Summary: You and I? We're the same.

Also! Everyone, go look at this! sunnyhanako1505/737589332630814720/silly-boy-spoilers-for-chaoter-23-3-hihi-im?source=share

Huzzah! Thank you sunnyhanako1505 for this wonderful work of art

Alter Ego was a surprisingly good conversation partner, all things considered. Even if it did know a little too much about him to be comfortable with. Several hours of chatting later, with Naegi neatly sidestepping as many intrusive questions as posible (and there were a lot of them), he bid the AI farewell before carefully locking it away once more. At some point, they would have to reveal the existence of it to the rest of the class. But until he could figure out a surefire way to keep Alter Ego away from the prying eyes of Monokuma and its puppet master, best to keep one of the few trump cards they had secret. At least this way, they could hopefully gleam some insights from the files on that laptop. Just another couple days.

The fact remained that each "victory" so far had been seized at great cost, and even then, he was merely delaying the inevitable. At some point, Monokuma would grow tired of his defiance. Considering the bear had suggested the existence of viewers, it would make sense that at this point, the lack of deaths was beginning to bore them. The next motive might not be so easy to dismantle. Or perhaps Monokuma would create a rule that prevented him from tampering with them. Or in the worst possible scenario, he would simply assign a bounty to Naegi. Ogami already had one on her head. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to place another on the Luckster's.

Even the documents in the secret room on the second floor filled him with nothing but dread. Character profile after profile, some stamped with a clinical [Deceased], others [Alive] and most concerningly, those who were [Converted]. There was something going on, something far greater and more terrible than whatever was going on in here, and he wasn't in the mood to escape from one hell only to fall straight into another. Call it compulsion, call it simple paranoia, but Naegi hated to be caught off guard. He sighed, attempting to calm his racing heartbeat. It was seven-fifty in the morning. Way too early for this sort of existential breakdown.

Probably time for a nap.

Well, it was less of a nap and more of passing out from sheer exhaustion. His sleep was troubled and more than once, the only reason he didn't escape the grasp of unconsciousness was the sheer amount of fatigue plaguing his body. After several hours of fighting his physical limits (and losing), Naegi finally managed to wake up by rolling off his bed. He did have to spend several minutes shaking and trying not to throw up afterwards, but that's besides the point.

Mechanically going through his daily routine, the boy gingerly peeled his eyepatch off to examine the injury, ignoring the nausea churning in his gut. The eye was still swollen and weeping. The symbol carved into it was faint against the backdrop of his green-grey iris, but incredibly hard to not think about. It was also bloodshot, but who cares about that, really? He had to close it again as the faintest hints of a headache began brewing, switching out the gauze pad and replacing his eyepatch once more. Naegi tried his best not to laugh. Even if he covered up that half of his face, he still looked like he'd been through a small skirmish. Or two rounds with the Ultimate Boxer.

Now, what to do with his time? Simply because he was a weak teenager with no sense of self-preservation, Naegi chose to poke his head into the gym—

"This is your fault, you know? You made me do this."

—and promptly ducked out due to the smell of ash, along with a small glimpse of the scorch marks that had yet to be buffered out of the wooden floor. Anyways! He hadn't done his laundry in a while. Backtracking to his room, the Luckster picked up the many sets of discarded hoodie-pants combo, pausing only to inspect the two very battered hoodies that he had been wearing in various fiascos. Turning out the pockets, he froze as something clattered to the floor. That was the first hoodie, judging by the way one sleeve was practically torn to shreds, which meant the only sort of object that could've been in that pocket…

He picked up the key, flipping the attached nameplate over in his hand and shuddering at the name engraved on it. Maizono Sayaka. Huh. Well then. This certainly was something. Carefully placing down his laundry bag, the Luckster first inserted her key into his lock to test a theory. It did fit, but as expected, nothing happened when he attempted to twist it. Well, at least this indicated that each key was designed specifically for the room it was associated with. The alternative would've been very dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

Out of curiosity, and in a move that could also be described as self-flagellation, Naegi chose to visit her room to see if anything had changed since that fateful day. It was right next door after all. With some hesitation, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The room was just as devoid of life as its previous owner. There was no sense of customisation bar the different wallpaper, and the faint scent of bleach indicated that someone (or something) had cleaned up after Naegi had vacated this place prior to the first Class Trial. Even with an eye wide-open and searching for details, there were no traces that anyone had ever used this place. He grimaced. Moving to the center of the room, the teenager closed his good eye, taking a wistful moment to imagine that all was well in the world. That he was just a regular teenager visiting one of his friends after school to hang out. That for a single fraction of a second, there wasn't a killing game to survive, or a diabolical Mastermind to fend off, or that he was probably going to be permanently crippled by the end of this whole thing.

He slapped himself gently after that. Right. Back to work. No time to feel sorry about yourself.

The laundromat took an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out, especially since it had a coin slot…without any coins to put in. Sure, there was plenty of soap, detergent and chemicals he was more certain were supposed to be used to poison the rest of his classmates than wash his clothes. That suspicious swimsuit was still hanging from the ceiling, but that was more of a side note than anything else.

Once he figured out that the washing machines took Monocoins, on the other hand, things became a lot easier. And it also validated his earlier scrounging for more things than tacky collectibles and the occasional pack of junk food from the MonoMono Machine. He sat there for several minutes, absentmindedly listening to the sounds of the washing machine and taking a moment to disconnect himself from his fight or flight reflexes. With how little time he's had to catch a break in the past few days, the sort of decompression process that helped keep his hands steady and his heart rate at a pace that wouldn't get him diagnosed with high blood pressure. Again.

Breath in. Count to five. Breath out. Not having to fight for your life was surprisingly good for you. Who would've thought? Chuckling somewhat bitterly, Naegi rotated his neck to release some of the tension in it. He sounded like an old man complaining about the good old days.

"Ah, Naegi-dono!" The Ultimate Luckster. Who had gone toe to toe with a goliath of a woman capable of pulling him in half. Who had fought the Mastermind time and time again, and got a branded eye for his efforts…fell off the bench from surprise. He groaned as the sudden impact sent starbursts of pain arcing up his spine. Squeezing his eye shut in an attempt to bite back the curses threatening to spill from his mouth, he glared half-heartedly at an apologetic Doujinshi Writer.

"Yamada-san." He was slightly impressed at how such a big guy managed to shrink back like a cornered mouse. "And what are you doing here?"

The other teenager adjusted his glasses. "Why, to fulfill the necessary task of gearing myself up for another day of course!"

"Ah, washing your clothes. Okay." Did he have a little too much fun taking the wind out of his sails? Yes. Did he care? No. He winked. "What's with the toolkit?"

The bespectacled Ultimate gestured with the screwdriver in his hand. "It's very handy for assembling miniatures. And well, if I just push this in here like this—" he inserted the tool with surprisingly deft movements for his pudgy fingers, twisting it and producing a click. "—you can depress the part that requires a coin. I used to do this with gachapon machines after one cheated me of a limited edition Princess Piggles figurine."

…he didn't really understand that last part, but he could respect the tenacity of picking up a whole new skill just to get revenge on someone or something that screwed you over in the past. "Cool."

"Thank you for the compliment!" Yamada puffed up like a peacock, before abruptly deflating into something more somber. "If you don't mind me asking…how are your injuries doing?"

Naegi tapped his eyepatch, feeling each impact acutely. "I can't even expose this thing to light for more than a couple minutes before it starts aching again. My wrist is broken for the foreseeable future. I'm hoping none of my ribs are about to snap and puncture things I have no possible way of fixing. Other than that, I'd say I'm feeling fine."

"My sympathies."

The Luckster laughed, shaking his head. "It is what it is."

Looking at him incredulously like he had switched languages, the Doujinshi Writer blinked, before turning his gaze to his own laundry. "Would you ever kill someone, Naegi-dono?"

"...what brought this on?" It was a fair question, and considering some of the others probably expected Naegi to snap someone's neck at a moment's notice, it was a pretty polite way of broaching the subject.

Yamada sighed. "I'm an optimistic person, but even I can read between the lines." His glasses glinted in the light. "By this point, we should have had at least one more murder. But you've prevented that. If this keeps on happening, there'll come a point where Monokuma will force our hand. So…be honest with me. What would it take for you to kill someone?"

"Huh." Naegi tapped his fingers against his thigh, giving the query the proper consideration it deserved. "Honestly? A lot less than what people would expect."

"Money? Love? A way out of this place?"

The Luckster locked gazes with Yamada, smiling wanely.

"A cause."

After hanging up his clothes with some difficulty (hey, at least he was getting better at the one hand, one eye thing), Naegi spent some time roaming the corridors (quite the hobby), narrowly avoided a confrontation with a still seething Ultimate Gambler muttering darkly about money wasting fools and ended up dragged into Enoshima's room when he walked past.

It was half fatigue and half reluctance to hurt one of the few people that had shown a modicum of goodwill towards him that held the Luckster back from greeting the smirking blonde with a fist to the face. "Yo, Enoshima." He kept having to remind himself that this lady was walking around with a smile on her face and blood on her hands. Wasn't good for his stress levels, but it was better to be shaky with adrenaline than die because someone planted a knife in his back.

"Naegi-kun~" The Fashionista drawled, before adopting a serious look. Well, trying to be serious, at the very least. A corner of her mouth was twitching, and the sheer weirdness of the situation made Naegi bite back a hysterical giggle. "How's the eye? Didn't really have much time to see it before I had to go teach that punk a lesson."

The teenager winked, adjusting his eyepatch self-consciously. "Hurts like a bitch. It should heal though. At least, that's what Monokuma said. In any case, I'll live."

Enoshima laughed, gesturing for him to sit down. He took the offer gratefully, ignoring the way his bones sang in relief as he stopped putting weight on everything that hurt. Which was. Well. A lot. He could probably sort his injuries according to both alphabetical and chronological order and see significant variance. Humming to herself, the blonde teenager glided across the room, snatching up two cups and a kettle. Setting them down with a clink, she poured out what smelled like tea before placing it to one side and taking a small sip. Hesitantly, Naegi did the same, quietly appreciating the somewhat bitter taste. After far too long with just water, having something with a tiny bit of caffeine in it was greatly appreciated.

"Got any sugar?" The Fashionista tossed him an unmarked packet (most things in this school bar the junk food lacked brands). Tipping a little into his cup, he downed the drink in three gulps before refilling it. Now all he needed was a video game system or a couple stacks of manga to pass the time. He absentmindedly remembered that he never did finish that reading of Dogra Magra. A shame. "So. What'cha want to talk about?"

Enoshima grinned. "Thought I'd take the time to catch up with you since nothing's happened in a while. The last time we spoke like this was a while back." The Luckster shrugged, refilling his drink for the second time. There was a pleasant buzz thrumming in the back of his mind, which probably indicated that he was way too addicted to things that kept him awake.

"...has it really been that long?" Naegi felt a little bad. "Did you figure out what you wanted to do other than the whole modelling thing?"

"You do remember~" Enoshima purred, leaning forward and causing him to reflexively shift his gaze to a point over her shoulder. The mirror that used to be there was covered up by a drape. Hmm. "Well, I thought I'd try my hand at world domination. Can't be any harder than my current job."

The comment startled a laugh out of him, and he shook his head slightly. "I mean, it's all about manipulating your image to show people what they want to see, no?"

"Huh…" Her eyes sharpened, and Naegi was briefly reminded of that one time he encountered a feral bear while out hiking. "You know, I've never heard anyone put it that way."

He yawned, feeling his eyelids droop. "Showbiz is terrifying. All those cameras and attention…I don't see how you can stand it."

"Hah!" Enoshima preened at the comment, adopting a haughty tone. "That's because commoners like you don't understand how to shine underneath a spotlight!" He scratched the back of his head, conceding the point without much resistance. It wasn't entirely wrong.

"Sounding a lot like Togami-san there." Still, he couldn't help but quip back, punctuating the statement by finishing his tea once more. He smiled behind his cup when the blonde drooped like a wilting plant, head making contact with the table.

"Urgh. Don't ever compare me to that prick. I think I just threw up in my mouth."

The teenagers sat there in a comfortable silence for several minutes, enough time for the Luckster to finish half the kettle and three more packets of sugar, judging by how light the appliance was as compared to the first time he lifted it. Swallowing another yawn, the boy leaned backwards in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"And what about you, Naegi-kun?" Enoshima looked curious, but it was the sort of curiosity that came with disassembling something to see how it ticked. Normally, this would be triggering several warning flags, but Naegi was a little too comfortable to care. "What're you gonna do once you exit this place?"

He took another sip to buy himself some time to organise his sluggish thoughts. "Well…probably go to therapy." He was a mess of messily forged coping mechanisms and trauma. Good for survival. Less good for mundane life. "Get myself some proper medical attention."

The blonde reached out, gently tracing the curve of his face, fingers lingering briefly on his eyepatch before removing them. "I mean for work. Or school, I guess. If you're boring like that."

"Boring is good." He shrugged, slouching in his chair. "Honestly? I've never thought about the day after."

"That's no good, Naegi-kun." Enoshima gave him a look of mock disapproval. "And here I thought you were the guy with all the plans. I mean, burning all that cash using an explosion? Genius. I would never have predicted that."

He shrugged once more. "It's a lot easier to escalate things when the alternative is letting people die. Plus, who would take in someone like me? I'd be lucky if I didn't get thrown in prison as soon as this ends."

The Fashionista chuckled, eyes glinting with humour. "Well, you could always join me in taking over the world. We'd make a pretty good team."

"Hmm…" It was a struggle to keep his eyes open for more than a couple seconds at a time. He really needed to sleep more. "Maybe. If I don't end up killing you by the end of it all." He winced internally at the slip.

She laughed, a bright, unhinged sound that stirred something in his mind. "I could say the same, Naegi-kun."

"Yeah yeah…" He rested his cheek on the table's cool surface, looking up at the other teenager through half-lidded eyes. "As long as you don't do it for money, of all things."

His eyes slipped shut. Gentle hands ran through his hair, coaxing him further into dreamland. "Oh don't worry about that, my dear." He barely heard the words being spoken. "I'm sure someone else has covered that for me." The fingers in his hair tightened almost viciously, but by then, he was too far gone to think much of it.

He woke, several hours later, with the sort of grogginess that usually denoted too long of a nap. Rubbing his uncovered eye, he got to his feet, glancing over to where the Fashionista was now situated, face half-buried in a magazine.

"How long was I out?"

A page turned. "It's evening now. I think."

He stretched with a groan, popping his joints before readjusting his eyepatch, which had probably been knocked askew while he slept. "Thanks for cleaning up. And uh, sorry for falling asleep."

"You looked like you needed it, Naegi." Enoshima glanced up, before immediately looking away. "Close the door on your way out."

"Yeah yeah yeah." He licked his chapped lips, grimacing slightly. "This is a little weird…but did you say something after the whole world domination bit?"

She shrugged. "Not that I can recall. You were muttering about killing Monokuma though."

"Hah." He averted his gaze sheepishly. "It's probably got way too many bodies to make that stick. See you later. Thanks for the tea."

Enoshima lowered her magazine briefly to flash him an awkward smile. "Thanks for putting up with me."

He waved it off, carefully closing the door behind him after making sure everything he had on him was still there. Hearing the lock engage seconds later, he huffed, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

"Gotta brush my teeth before I go to bed…" Naegi muttered. "Tongue feels like it's made of lead. Bleh."