Summary: Peace and Quiet

"You really don't have to do this if you're still injured, Naegi-kun." Fujisaki stated with some concern upon realising that he was, in fact, having trouble walking. "We can always reschedule."

"It's the least I could do. And I did promise." Left unsaid was the fact that there was an itch in the back of his skull demanding that he do something productive with his time. That he wasn't doing nearly enough. "Plus, we're going to be doing more theory for the time being. At least for an hour. You're not supposed to do anything strenuous right after a meal."

"So when were we going to figure out you were teaching chibi over here how to fight?" Enoshima had reluctantly not picked him up after lunch-slash-dinner, but only if the Luckster allowed her to prop him up. Which was pretty handy, because one of his legs had gone completely numb. Fairly concerning, but that was more likely to be the fatigue talking rather than any sort of major internal injury. They'd figure it out depending on whether or not he randomly dropped dead in the next couple days.

Kirigiri was walking ahead of them, browsing something on her E-Handbook. "Probably when Fujisaki ends up fist-fighting someone twice his weight class and winning." He scoffed. These two were making it sound like he was turning the Programmer into another version of himself.

"Oi, I resent the accusation that I'm the one going around picking fights." It wasn't his fault everyone picked on him like he was their doormat. "And Fujisaki-san asked nicely. Which is already a step above what most people do. Besides…" He trailed off, carefully constructing his next sentence. "It's better that all of us know how to defend ourselves." Situational awareness, paranoia and a distinct refusal to roll over and die had saved his life more times than he'd care to admit. If he could save a couple lives, especially after fruitlessly attempting to stop the Mastermind on multiple occasions, he'd be perfectly fine with whatever weird perceptions everyone else had of him.

"That's one way to put it."

"Naegi-kun's been very helpful!" Fujisaki was a nice person. "He's been telling me not to fight people unless I absolutely have to, and to punch someone in the kidneys!" But they were really not helping to disprove whatever misconceptions the two girls had of him. He sighed quietly, fingers curling around his bat. Now that he knew something was definitely off about it, it was fairly obvious that the weapon was heavier than the first time he picked it up. He'd have to disassemble it later. Wouldn't surprise the Luckster if Monokuma also put a camera in there to spy on him, considering it had already somehow modified the bat into a sheath for a far deadlier weapon. He pointedly ignored the way Enoshima was snickering.

"In any case." He paused at the door to the locker room. "Are girls even allowed in here? I distinctly recall something about machine guns and rules." In unison, four sets of eyes (seven, not eight) looked towards the mounted weapons, gleaming ominously as they hung from the ceiling. "I'd rather not get anyone shot full of holes. Especially people I can stand."

"Aww~" Enoshima cooed as she squeezed him in a side hug. "That's mighty sweet of you."

"Specifically, Monokuma mentioned that the only thing stopping us from entering the other gender's locker room was the way the ID-card readers work." Kirigiri gestured to them. "Assuming one of you scans yours and just keeps the door open, we should be fine." Huh. Good to know. Especially since he had a dead girl's E-Handbook just sitting in his drawer. Exchanging a slightly concerned look with Fujisaki, he sighed.

"Could one of you lend me your PDA?" His fingers twitched. "I'll test it on the girl's door." Kirigiri shrugged, scanning her own before motioning for him to go through. "That works as well."

Very carefully, he poked his head into the locker room to check for any of his other classmates. When the guns didn't whir to life, he tentatively stepped into the room, noting its similarities to the boy's locker room before stepping back out. "Theory proven. Let's continue."

The quartet marched into the boy's side of things, Naegi immediately beelining for one of the benches with a quiet sound of relief. The tennis ball he had used to test his hand-eye coordination was still lying innocently on said bench. The Luckster glared at it half-heartedly, before pushing it aside. He had been practicing with other implements in the privacy of his room, which was pretty convenient when he did stuff like drop a knife (handle first) onto his foot, considering there was no one around to heckle him. Except Monokuma. But he was resigned to that at this point. Someday, he was going to exact his vengeance on that infernal bear. It would be great and terrible and he would dance on the grave of the Mastermind afterwards.

He shook those wistful thoughts from his head, ignoring the way Enoshima was poking at the obnoxious poster on one of the walls. Kirigiri was doing the reasonable thing and inspecting the room. Idly squeezing the tennis ball with his damaged hand to figure out how badly he had damaged its capabilities, he leaned back to rest his head against the wall. "What are we doing today?"

"Well…" Fujisaki began, stretching slightly. "Maybe a little more about how to fight? I don't think I have any chance against someone like Ogami-san—" All you really needed was the element of surprise and a good blade, but that's besides the point. "—but is there anything you know that could make it more viable for me to win against some of the others?"

He grinned. "If nothing else, blows to the head tend to rattle the brain. That's how people get concussions. Even trained fighters will be forced to pause if you hit 'em hard enough, because unlike most other parts of your body, you can't exactly make your head harder to a noticeable extent." Naegi idly tapped his chin, wondering why the three of them were now sitting like they were in school. "A blow to the jaw or chin can knock someone unconscious. There's a sweet spot here because biologically speaking, it causes your brain to just pinball around."

"Speaking from experience, Naegi?" Enoshima eyed him with an undiscernable expression. He shrugged.

"Not particularly. The main issue with most knockout blows is that when done incorrectly, you can kill someone. Or cause brain trauma. Either one is not something you'd like to be held accountable for." Bad enough that there were people in here willing to kill. It would be even worse if they had to start solving accidental murders. "I'd avoid hitting the head in general. The skull's surprisingly strong. If you hit it at a bad angle, say the temples—" he tapped them to punctuate his point. "—your finger bones may just fracture with a glancing blow. I've heard of cases where someone who knows they're about to get hit in the head will lean into the blow to try and break fingers in the process."

"That sounds like something you'd find in a story." If Kirigiri had a notebook, he suspected she'd be taking notes. "The sheer amount of skill and timing you'd need for that makes it unrealistic."

"Not really." He formed a fist, miming a punch. "Unless you're very good at what you do, most people only tighten up the moment before impact. It also minimises the acceleration of the blow. Of course, I'm not saying you should try to catch a fist with your face. The best defence is just not getting hit in the first place. But it is certainly possible to break someone's fingers with a headbutt, especially if they're not experienced enough."

"So, going back to your standard principles of avoiding a fight then." Fujisaki nodded seriously. "And fighting dirty, of course."

"Yep." Always nice to have an active learner. "If it's a fistfight, bring a knife. If it's a knife fight, bring a gun. Et cetera." Though having a gun in Japan was a lot more inconvenient than it sounded. "Anything can be a weapon. A bottle can be shattered for a shiv. Keys as improvised brass knuckles. No one expects a brick to the face."

The Fashionista barked out a startled laugh. "Jeez, Naegi. You have really bad luck, huh."

He teetered his hand in a see-saw motion. "There's a reason why the saying, 'may you live in interesting times' is a curse, rather than a blessing." The Luckster chuckled humourlessly, getting to his feet. "Anyways…for someone of our stature, I'd suggest judo. Unfortunately I'm not exactly in any condition to teach it, but I can still give some pointers."

"Judo?" Fujisaki stood up, approaching with caution. "Why judo?"

"Well~" Quick as a whip, he slung his good arm around Fujisaki's neck, sweeping their legs with an osotogari , making sure to catch them before they could fall. "It's all about leverage. And the heavier you are, the more easy it is to use leverage."

"Duly noted." The Programmer quivered, but recovered well. "But please elaborate. Preferably without throwing me." He patted them on the shoulder apologetically.

"So. Judo works a lot on the idea of shifting balance." He tapped his joints. "Apply pressure in the right places, push a little in others…you get the idea. It's actually a lot easier when you're shorter because a bunch of the principles involved include having the tori being lower than the uke to use gravity as well."

"Huh." Fujisaki prodded curiously, and he buckled when they pushed at the back of his knee. "That…seems way too easy."

"Oh it isn't." He laughed, straightening up. "You have to remember that people are going to actively resist your actions. And there's the fact that you're willingly putting yourself into close-quarters combat. But if you can do it quickly enough, they'll be too busy recovering from a collision with the ground to figure that out."

"Say, Naegi." Enoshima chimed in, amusement apparent on her face. "Let's say you had to do that in your condition. How'd you do it?"

"Are you offering?" He met the unspoken challenge with a small smile. "Cause I'd rather not injure Fujisaki-san over here."

"And I'm fair game? Guess I know who's your favourite." The Fashionista invaded his personal space like she belonged there, looking down on him both figuratively and literally. "The floor's pretty soft, so it'll be fine. If you can even do it."

Naegi rolled his eye. Well, she did ask for it. He glanced over at Fujisaki, who looked like they were witnessing a train wreck in progress and Kirigiri, who was hiding a smile. Welp, can't disappoint the audience. "Now, what you want to do in a street fight is force your opponent to move for you. The easiest way to do it is with a joint lock that threatens dislocation…" He tugged at Enoshima's arm, adjusting his own posture. "But what someone taught me that's also pretty effective, is this—"

Twisting, he slapped the Fashionista (gently) across the face, following through with the action and executing a tai otoshi , making sure to use his hip to launch the startled girl who then slammed into the floor with a small "oof". He stepped over her prone body, shaking the pins and needles from his broken hand. Probably shouldn't have done that.

"—because people don't really expect you to slap 'em." His audience of two watched with widened eyes, speechless. Naegi resisted the urge to laugh. "So, any questions?"

"I've got one, you bastard." Enoshima glared at him while lying down. "How good are you at falling?"

"Pretty decent, I think—" She grabbed his legs, pulling them towards her as he met the ground face-first with a groan.

"Yeah…" He rolled over, wheezing slightly. "I deserved that one."

Omake: When Worlds Collide [9]

It had been three days since his doppleganger had popped into existence in front of the class, and something had happened that the staff didn't want to talk about, but had led them to watch him like he was a dangerous convict. Naegi didn't really know how to feel about that. Even if "Naegi" had been a little weird, and threw himself out a window, there was no way he was capable of doing anything that people were whispering about…right?

Kirigiri was currently taking a leave of absence from regular classes, indicating that it probably had to do with her set of skills. Judging by the increasingly concerned expressions she was wearing when he bumped into her from time to time, it was bad. Really bad. He sighed, trying to ignore the way Enoshima was snickering from the back of the classroom. The Fashionista had been in a particularly good mood since "Naegi's" appearance and subsequent disappearance, and the last time she had been laughing like that, the school had to figure out how to deal with the flock of geese that had mysteriously taken residence in the Headmaster's Office. And the Research Labs. And the dorms.

The class had pestered Ikusaba about what she had been doing with his counterpart, only to be met with stony silence. Though the permanent blush on her face since then did not help his own private worries about the situation. He sighed, slightly depressed. It was bad enough that he struggled to keep up with his classmates. Now he was finding that he couldn't even keep up with an alternate version of himself. The Luckster shook his head, refusing to follow that train of thought. He was doing his best!

A knock on the window cut their teacher off mid-sentence, and the class' heads turned in unison to see "Naegi" waving, balanced precariously on the ledge. How had he gotten there!? There were a few moments of awkward silence before the Fashionista strolled over to open the window, leaning out with a smile.

"Did you like my gift?" Naegi resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands at the suggestive tone she was taking. He had just gotten the rumours to die down.

His counterpart laughed, leaning forward with a smile. "It was certainly one of the highlights of yesterday."

"Good~" She reached out, brushing his eyepatch almost tenderly. "Your move."

"Well—" He tapped her fingers teasingly. "—I've been thinking of visiting Hope's Peak Elementary. See you there?"

"It's a date~"

Seriously, what the hell was his counterpart doing!?