Summary:
- Claim: You are not ready to die
- Evaluation: False
Also, this, from a very impressive fan: pegasister60/733566373200035840/locus-standi-has-been-initiated-make-your?source=share
It didn't take long for accusations and insults to start flying. Almost everyone was raising their voices, discussions were happening over the nature of the new mechanic, the perpetrator responsible for said mechanic and the occasional snide comment or question thrown Naegi's way. Not that he was paying much attention. There was a distinct ringing in one of his ears that had abruptly built up when Monokuma was talking, and his body was finally starting to catch up to his mental fatigue. His knees buckled slightly, just barely, and that was as good a cue as ever to go somewhere else.
His footsteps were near silent amidst the noise, but as he staggered in the direction of the door, a hand carefully tugged at his tattered sleeve. The Luckster turned slightly, blinking in surprise to see Fujisaki, who looked like she was mulling over something, even as she halted his movement. The Programmer sighed softly, before motioning for him to lead the way. Somewhat confused, but not exactly against it (Fujisaki was one of the…three? Four? Well, one of the few people that hadn't given him a reason to distrust them), he continued his shuffling, slipping out of the gym silently with a small wave in Enoshima's general direction as she watched them go with narrowed eyes. He attempted to pick up the pace after getting beyond the doors, not nearly in the mood to deal with anyone who might have questions. That was a problem for the future Luckster.
"What's up?" Fujisaki jolted at the sudden inquiry, but regained her composure remarkably quickly for someone who looked like they could be picked up by a strong gust of wind. She frowned, fingers twitching like she was hammering away at a keyboard before forcefully stilling them.
"Well…" She stuttered, taking several deep breaths before continuing, "you looked like you needed some assistance. And, well, I wanted to talk to you about something." He inclined his head, silently gesturing for her to go on as they paused in front of a still-barred infirmary. Kicking it somewhat bitterly, he switched directions. There was probably something, somewhere in his room that he could use to set his wrist. And ice in the dining room, but he was fairly certain setting foot in there would send him back to fight-or-flight. Shivering slightly, Naegi absentmindedly wondered whether it would be better to keep using his now two ruined articles of clothing or swap them out for the remaining four or so in his closet. If he kept burning through them at this rate, he'd have nothing left to wear by the end of the run. Snickering slightly (and then wincing as his ribs twinged once more), he missed the nearly imperceptible mumble coming from the Ultimate currently following him around.
"I didn't quite catch that?"
The Programmer looked almost offended. "Our secrets are going to be revealed tomorrow. And I thought it'd be best if you knew mine beforehand." He resisted the urge to look around, using his uninjured hand to point at himself. This time, Fujisaki did roll her eyes. "Yes, you."
"I'm probably the last person you'd want to know your secret."
She shook her head. "Everyone's going to know it anyway. But you risked a lot trying to keep us from murdering each other. I appreciate that. And, well…" Fujisaki trailed off, a distant look in her eyes. "...by sheer chance, you stopped me from doing something that could've killed me."
"Huh…" Well that was certainly something. That is, something he wasn't expecting to hear in the slightest. "how'd I do that?"
Fujisaki bit her lip gently, eyes scanning their surroundings. "Could we do this somewhere more private?" He tilted his head slightly, but acquiesced. Not like he wasn't already planning to temporarily hide somewhere. Although that wording…he closed his eyes briefly, grounding himself with the sensation of cold steel within reach.
A couple minutes of somewhat awkward small talk later, Naegi took several seconds to fumble with his keys before unlocking the door to his room. Taking a fraction of a moment to check if anything was out of place, he held it open for Fujisaki to pass through before gently shutting the door behind them (keeping it unlocked of course). He waved a hand at their chair in the corner of the room, then at his bed, lifting and twisting the doorknob to his bathroom in search of first-aid supplies. Flicking on the lights, Naegi nodded at Maizono's corpse, eyes wide and following him across the room, stepping over her legs to poke his head into the cabinet. Stuffing several rolls of tape, medical gauze and bandages into his pockets, he exited the now empty bathroom, the phantom scent of copper and iron lingering like a ghost.
He slumped into the somewhat uncomfortable armchair, idly watching Fujisaki fidget out of the corner of his eye as he busied himself with his wounds. Carefully taking off his hoodie (and concealing the kitchen knife within it), Naegi lifted his shirt to assess the extent of the damage. Needless to say, he looked more like a mottled rug than a human. Prodding the bruising experimentally, he took several deep lungfuls of air, listening for any discrepancies in his breathing while searching for any signs of breakages. When he found nothing (though pressure certainly hurt, and would be hurting for a while), next was the very slow and tedious process of wrapping one's chest and abdominal region with only one functional hand.
"...you're not gonna ask, are you?" He looked up from his work, hands moving in accordance with muscle memory while he focused his attention on Fujisaki. He shrugged, and the other teenager laughed briefly before fading back to silence. "I suppose you're not the type to care."
"Unless it's something you'd kill someone else over?" He tightened the bandages with his teeth, grimacing at the texture. "Not particularly." Next was his wrist, which was a little more problematic without anything to use as a splint (and he highly doubted a knife was the right thing to use), but with a little creativity—
"I'm a guy."
—his fingers spasmed, dropping the roll of gauze into his lap. Naegi met Fujisaki's gaze, wisely resisting the urge to comment on the fear he could see in their gaze. Very slowly reaching for his item, the Luckster resumed his work.
"As in you're a girl who identifies as a guy or a guy who identifies as a girl…? How should I address you?" The Programmer blinked slowly, before casting their gaze downwards.
"Well…it's a little more complicated than that. Do I identify as a girl? No, not really." They began to speak, gradually becoming more comfortable after seeing Naegi's somewhat apathetic response. "The truth of the matter is that I'm terribly weak. And I spent a lot of my childhood being bullied for it. So, to hide from it, I started crossdressing."
…yikes. That was unpleasant to think about. Naegi grimaced internally, but chose not to comment. His own experiences on the matter weren't exactly nice, and he had very different coping mechanisms.
"At first I was relieved. People weren't picking on me for being weak anymore. But then I realised…I realised I was building my life on a lie. The reason people stopped bullying me for my weakness was because they expected me to be weak—" Well, Naegi would beg to differ on the matter, but that was his own opinion. "—and I began to hate myself even more. Because I hadn't changed in the slightest. Still as weak as ever. So when Monokuma revealed the second motive…"
"You realised that we would eventually know what you were hiding."
"Mhm." They nodded. "And at first, I was terrified. Especially in these sorts of conditions…well, it was daunting. But then I remembered all the things you've done so far." Fujisaki gave him a shaky smile.
"Even though you're not the strongest, or smartest, even though you kept getting picked on and beaten up—" Really feeling the love here. "—every time there was trouble, I'd watch you run headfirst into danger. It didn't matter how injured you were, or how many people were against you. Even at the start, when all of us thought you were the one who killed Maizono-san, you stood your ground. I couldn't understand it."
"It was nothing special. Gotta give it your all when everyone's lives are on the line."
Fujisaki chuckled, although it was a somewhat bitter sound. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. At first I thought people like Owada-san and Ogami-san were the epitome of strength. They were physically strong, and unflinching in their beliefs and behaviour. But you…you chose to stand against them. Again. And again. And again." There was something akin to awe in the Programmer's voice, something that made Naegi shift uncomfortably in his seat. He continued to wrap his wrist, taping portions together to create a makeshift brace.
"At first I wanted to be like them. I was even thinking about asking Owada-san for tips on how to get stronger! But then I saw how they were using their strength. And I thought to myself," they looked up to watch the Luckster, "people with strength tend to be bullies. And I don't want to be a bully."
Naegi shrugged. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a little bit of a bully myself."
"Are you?" Fujisaki's stare was a little too discerning for his tastes. "Cause the only person I've seen you torment is yourself. You walk these halls like a ghost. I saw you at the swimming pool, shivering like you were running a fever. You have nothing to gain, but you keep putting yourself on the line for us. So, well, I have a favour to ask."
"...go ahead."
"If I could grasp just a single fraction of your strength…maybe I could overcome my own weakness. So, teach me how to become like you. Please. I know you have no reason to do it, and I won't fault you for rejecting my request. But please, Naegi-san," Fujisaki bowed their head, "I'd appreciate it."
"Geez." He added a double layer of tape over his wrist. "When you put it like that…well, I don't have a reason not to help you out. But I must say, you don't want to be like me. You want to be stronger? Sure. I'll teach you. Not like I can do much when I'm down a hand. We got an agreement, Fujisaki-san?"
They smiled. "Thank you, Naegi-san. This means a lot more to me than you might imagine."
"I have an inkling."
"Maybe. But nonetheless, thank you."
He shrugged, massaging his wrist gently. It was weird to be thanked for acting like a semi-decent human being. "Say…you never did mention how you'd like to be addressed. Pronouns, and all that."
"I…don't know?" The Programmer frowned, falling back onto the bed with a soft thud. "Gender's always been a complicated thing, especially since I don't feel like I'm strong enough to be a male…"
Naegi lifted a finger. "For the record, I don't think strength should be your measure of gender. That's an unhealthy and outdated stereotype. And call yourself whatever you want to call yourself. As long as it feels right."
"I'll get back to you on that." Fujisaki clenched their fists. "I need to figure out who I want to be first, before I think about stuff like that."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged, "we've got nothing but time in here."
"Heh…that's one way to put it."
"...they really just left you in here, huh?" After going to the dining room to acquire three ice packs (which he promptly strapped against his more serious injuries), Naegi's idle patrol of the premises had led him back to the gym. Fukawa was still propped up against one of the walls, oblivious to the rest of the world. He frowned. She'd been unconscious for a concerning amount of time. Idly wishing that he still had his bat, the Luckster tentatively lowered himself to shake her by the shoulder.
"Fukawa-san." Shake, shake. He didn't have nearly enough medical prowess to properly diagnose whatever the hell was going on. "Fukawa—"
His arm snapped up in time to block a strike to his head, wrist screaming out in protest as he twisted to bleed the momentum. Even then, he was now well aware of the distinctly wet sensation of fresh blood dripping down his cheek. Twisting his hand despite its injuries, he grabbed Fukawa's wrist, applying pressure and forcing her to drop whatever it was that had set off his reflexes.
A pair of scissors dropped to the floor with a clatter as Naegi let go, shaking his hand slightly in an attempt to decrease the pain he was feeling. What in the world…? Fukawa looked up, red eyes narrowed and teeming with bloodlust.
Without hesitation, he pulled the knife from his sleeve, ignoring the burning trail it left against bare skin, holding it against the Writer's throat. It wouldn't hurt her unless he saw a reason to. She tilted her head curiously, eyes darting from the blade gently resting against her neck to Naegi himself, leaning over her. He snarled, pinning her other arm to the ground beneath a knee. Despite the position she was in, the normally timid girl wasn't panicking or begging for her life like he had expected, but looking around like she was watching a particularly amusing play. He could've sworn he saw an abnormally long tongue dart from her mouth, but considering it was gone as soon as he blinked, it was probably nothing.
"I'd prefer it if you didn't try to stab me."
She cackled, almost as though Naegi had just told the world's funniest joke. Crimson eyes twitched in…was that excitement?
"Kyeehahahahaha…you look like shit, Macoco Chanel! Who pissed in your cereal today?"
…there was no way to reasonably unpack that statement.
