Summary: This arc is probably the closest we get to Daily Life.

"Yeah…we should probably do that." Enoshima seemed to realise that he, Naegi Makoto, was a living breathing human being instead of a life-sized doll, considering she decided to deposit him back onto the table before promptly changing the subject. "But is there really a way we can do anything about it? Not like we can politely ask the serial killer to not kill. In a Killing Game."

"When you put it that way, it does sound pretty stupid." Naegi straightened his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and wincing as the knife dug into his arm. He really needed to find a sheath for that thing. "But considering we're sharing a living space with one attempted murderer and another who committed three quarters of a kill, there isn't really much of a difference now, is there?"

"It's still logical to establish some contingency plans. I would rather not die to a serial killer. Or in general."

Naegi laughed. "Don't worry, neither of you really fit Genocider's modus operandi." He ticked them off on his fingers. "So far, she's only killed males. More specifically, those that fit a specific type…pretty boys, essentially." He tilted his head. "May have to keep Fujisaki's gender a secret then. They're one of the few decent folk we still have walking around Hope's Peak."

"Right, so we need to keep a closer eye on you as well." What part of him even fit that criteria? Enoshima nodded seriously, folding her arms under her bust. "I'm assuming you didn't think to disarm her during your confrontation."

"Even if I had, which I didn't, we don't actually know how many pairs of sharpened scissors she's just carrying around." He closed his eye, flicking through the crime scenes in his mind. "Genocider Syo has a tendency to crucify her targets, indicating a certain level of strength that I really shouldn't be surprised by anymore, considering two Ultimates have sent me flying with a blow. One pair of scissors in each arm, sometimes a third and fourth in the legs. Considering she leaves them after her murders, it's not illogical to believe that she has a decent supply of them somewhere."

"Fantastic…" The Fashionista looked a little grumpy. "So we've not only got a killer who's liable to just pop out of nowhere from time to time, but she's also packing an unknown number of blades to slice people up with. Ain't that great."

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it." Naegi tilted his head, running bandaged fingers through his hair and removing glass dust from it. He was going to need a thorough shower after this. "We've got some time right now, so how about we go up to the next—"

"No." / "Fuck no!"

"...alright then, forgive me for trying to be efficient with our time." The Luckster looked away from his unimpressed classmates, long-ignored self-preservation instincts telling him it was a bad idea to press the idea any further. "What's on our agenda then?"

"Say, Naegi…" Enoshima drawled, the stiffness to her posture warning him that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "How long exactly has it been since you last had a meal?"

He hummed to buy himself time, mentally counting off the days on his fingers. "I had a cup of ramen right before the second Investigation. That's not too long ago, is it?"

"The fact that you had to think about when you last ate concerns me greatly, my herbivore boy." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And was that all you had for a meal? Jesus, Naegi, sometimes I feel like you're more machine than human. Which is kinda weird, with your whole I'm a very normal kid shtick."

"...I'm electing to ignore that last part—" he was normal compared to all of these Ultimates, after all, "—and doing the mature thing by not responding with the first thing my brain is telling me to say."

"Tch. Smartass." She aggressively ruffled his hair, but there was a soft grin on her face he didn't really want to read too much into. Affection was nice and all, but at any moment, anyone could simply stab him in the back. And with the sort of target he was putting on it, it was a very nice back. Very tempting. It's almost like it was made for knives.

Kirigiri concealed a smile behind her hand before promptly digging a bigger grave for the Luckster. "And when was the last time you ate before that?"

He paused. Now that was a slightly trickier question. He ticked off the days on his fingers once more, feeling their unimpressed stares boring into his skull. "That time I threw you across a room."

"...that was at least six days ago." Kirigiri looked concerned. Sort of. He wasn't particularly adept at reading faces. "How are you still standing…?"

"Right, that's it!" Before he could protest, Enoshima scooped him up, this time into a bridal carry instead of the fireman's carry from earlier. He winked slowly, looking up at his captor. Huh. Freckles. She was a lot more beautiful up close, even if very different from the pictures the magazines used. He internally mused that it would be a lot nicer if said magazines didn't cover up the unique purple tint to her eyes. All the Ultimates had pretty unique styles (he pointedly ignored the way his own eye colour had been fading when he looked in the mirror), but he didn't exactly have much time to interact with them outside of fights and arguments.

"I can walk, y'know." Even as he complained, the trio were already moving, Enoshima adjusting her grip to prevent his body from swaying too much. It was a weird feeling, being held like this. Like he was actually worth something. "I may be injured, but not that badly."

"He says, knowing full well he's walking around with cracked ribs and temporarily missing an eye." Enoshima quipped back, tapping softly at his eyepatch and looking a little sad when it reflexively drew a flinch from him. "Look, you've done a lot in a very short span of time, Naegi. Just…can't you take a break? For a little bit?"

He lifted one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug, lapsing into silence. She took that as agreement.

Kirigiri's somber gaze, burning into the back of his head, told him the other teenager knew better.

"I'm just saying, cup ramen is a perfectly good meal!" Just because he had consented to being carried around like a bag of potatoes didn't mean he was going to take this besmirching of his primary source of calories lying down. "It's cheap, easy to make, and decidedly unhealthy!"

"Remind me again why that last point is supposed to be a good thing?" The Fashionista was decidedly unamused after she had managed to drag some more ideas of the haphazard daily schedule he followed religiously.

"I imagine it's a bonus for him because of how little he eats." Kirigiri put in her own two cents, selecting some fresh produce to add to the small stack of food currently piling up on what he knew they were going to make him eat. He had reluctantly agreed to having a proper meal (whatever that meant), provided they eat as well. Considering how cheerfully and quickly the two had breezed past that condition, he was starting to think he had been tricked. "Judging from how used he is to intermittent fasting, having a way to quickly load up on calories without filling his stomach would be quite the benefit."

"And that's why he's light enough for me to toss around." Enoshima punctuated her statement by briefly sending Naegi airborne, before catching him like this was perfectly normal. Which it wasn't, if that wasn't obvious enough. He'd be embarrassed, if he even had a lick of pride in his soul over stuff like this. "I'm just surprised you know how to cook."

Kirigiri looked away from her work just long enough to give the Fashionista a dry stare. "Anything I do must seem like culinary genius to someone who suggested military rations as a primary meal. You two are truly made for each other." Naegi yelped when the grip on him tightened momentarily.

"Smartass." There was definitely a blush there. "You done?"

"Almost." She was currently placing the dishes onto a tray. "I'll leave the washing up for later."

"Dibs on that." He quirked his mouth in a sarcastic smile. "It'd be rude of me to not pull my weight…even if you two insist on treating me like I'm made of glass."

The enigmatic Ultimate returned the smile. "Considering the way that bottle shattered against your head, you're definitely not made of glass."

"Y'ouch. Duly noted." This was…nice. In a way that unpleasantly reminded him of the fact that his family (and by extension those of his classmates) were likely dead. He shook the thought from his mind. "You can let me down now. Preferably before someone walks in and sees us like this."

"Yeah…" Enoshima glanced toward the doorway before shooting him a smirk. "I think that ship has sailed."

Naegi reluctantly followed her gaze, meeting eyes with Fujisaki before relaxing. "This is arguably the best case scenario." The Programmer muffled a laugh before shyly approaching, hands placed behind their back.

"Well then, Naegi-kun." Fujisaki was having the time of their life. "You seem to be having fun."

"You could put it that way. I guess." His humour was rewarded with a small chuckle and a finger flick to the forehead. No prizes for figuring out who did what. "How're you? The third floor was surprisingly empty when we were walking around there."

"I'm alright." They smiled reassuringly. "Rather worried about you…but I think these two have it covered." The smile flickered and died. "As for the rest of the class…" They trailed off, a dark look that was at odds with Fujisaki's general nature on their face. "Well, it's better if we sit down to talk about that. It's been pretty bad."

"As long as no one's dead or currently dying, it's a step up from yesterday." Enoshima shrugged, lifting Naegi slightly in the process. "But it would be nice to get a quick status report, especially since Kirigiri and I have been sorta busy dealing with this guy. It's hard work."

Fujisaki's complex expression spoke volumes about their inability to respond to that statement. Probably because they didn't want to be rude or anything. "Considering the alternative was dumping him in the infirmary beside her ," they spat the last word with some venom, "it was for the best. Sorry that I wasn't able to help out, Naegi-kun. They wouldn't let me."

He waved off the apology. "I heard. 'S alright." The Luckster glanced over to Kirigiri. "Mind making another plate for them?"

"Oh! I wouldn't want to impose—" The Programmer deflated as their female classmate immediately started up the stove again. "—thank you. Sorry for being a bother."

A lilac eye darted briefly towards them. "You're not a bother. It would be far ruder to have a meal if you didn't have anything to eat alongside us."

"What she said." / "What she said."

"Heh…" Fujisaki laughed sheepishly. "Still. Thank you."

Naegi crunched down on an apple, idly inspecting his bat for any irregularities as they dined. "What's the news about the rest of the class?"

The Programmer blinked, hurriedly swallowing a bite of scrambled eggs to reply. "Where would you like me to start?"

"The beginning is a great place." He quipped dryly. "I've heard a little about Ogami-san and Celeste-san, so how 'bout we start there?"

"Right…" Fujisaki rubbed their face. "Now, I want to preface this by saying that Ogami-san doesn't blame you for what you did—"

"Ah fuck." He slammed his face into the table, narrowly missing his plate. "She was the one who I bit when I was…" There wasn't exactly any way to make "trying to turn the Gambler's skull into paste" sound good, so he decided not to say anything. The taste of blood on his lips was a phantom sensation, but one that immediately drained what little appetite he still had. He still continued to nibble at his food anyways, just to be polite.

"Yeah…" The Programmer grimaced. "She said it was barely a punishment compared to what she did to you previously. So I don't think you'll have to worry about any sort of retribution for that. It's a good thing you let go as soon as you did. It was mostly superficial, and with the infirmary now open, we don't have to worry too much about infection."

"Still gotta apologise to her at some point." Naegi sighed, mournfully swallowing a bite of bread and ignoring the way his stomach protested. "Ogami-san was only trying to help, after all. And what about our resident wannabe killer?"

"She's currently confined to the infirmary." Fujisaki looked completely fine with that. "We have to let her go back to her dorm at night considering the rules against sleeping outside. But she's under near constant surveillance now." They tapped the table bitterly. "Honestly…I don't think any of us really know what to do about it. I mean, she wasn't coerced, or blackmailed, or even desperate. Killing someone for money like that…it's pretty bad, Naegi-kun."

"Hey, at least we don't have to worry about an angry Martial Artist pulverising you." Enoshima snarked between brisk bites of…was that salmon? Sheesh, so this was where all of Hope's Peak's funding was going.

"You don't need to tell me twice." The Luckster tested the grooves along his bat. Were those there before? "And have you been up to the fourth and fifth floor?"

"I've done a quick look around." The Programmer frowned. "There's a locked room on the fourth floor. Something about data processing. It might be useful if we can get in there at some point. The Headmaster's Office is locked as well. Not surprising. Haven't been up to the fifth floor, but apparently there's a greenhouse up there? So now we know where our food is coming from."

"Interesting. A fully functional greenhouse despite the fact that everything is sealed off?" Kirigiri took a sip of tea.

"Starting to think that someone planned for us to be stuck in here." Or at least wanted this school to be completely self-sufficient, which was equally concerning. "At least we know we won't go hungry anytime soon. The rest of the class?" It was almost like the bat was meant to be pulled apart, which definitely wasn't the case before someone confiscated it. How had it ended up in Monokuma's grubby little paws? If he twisted here—

He pulled, saw the glint of steel, then promptly pushed the handle back into place. Nope. Not unpacking that right now.

—there was no need to expose the fact that Monokuma had apparently upgraded his weapon. Very creepy.

"Well…" Fujisaki chewed nervously on a chunk of meat. "Put simply, they don't really like you right now."

"That's an understatement." Enoshima laughed. "Last I checked, the Swimmer was advocating for your death."

"She does realise that killing me would just lead to another execution, right?" Naegi was unimpressed.

"You do tend to inspire that sort of reaction in people, Naegi."

"Gee. Thanks."

Fujisaki chuckled awkwardly. "Regardless, expect people to be wary of you. Still, as long as you don't do anything weird in the next couple days, I think it'll die down. Hopefully."

"...story of my life." He sighed. "Up for a little training later?"

The Programmer visibly brightened. "If you don't mind."

Omake: When Worlds Collide [8]

"What are we playing for?" Junko watched "Naegi" stitch his hand up with quick, precise moments. The more she learned about him, the harder it was to resist the urge to take him apart, piece by piece.

"You keep doing…whatever it is, you're doing." Her Luckster shrugged, snapping the thread with his teeth. Were those sharper than normal? Interesting. "And I'll try to stop you."

"That's it?" Sure, he wasn't preaching about the kindness of humanity, but this was…underwhelming. "And here I thought this was going to be fun."

He smiled, placing a fresh eyepatch over his red eye. "It doesn't have to be complicated. You're going to kickstart the Tragedy. And I'll make sure that you fail at every turn. Imagine how positively Despairful you'll feel when all your carefully laid plans are ruined by an idiot with PTSD." He tilted his head slightly. "You're the Ultimate Analyst, after all. If you can't beat me in a contest of wits, you're just fuckin' pathetic now, aren't ya?"

"Ooh~" Junko grinned. This was very clearly a way to get a rise out of her. And it was working. "Now you're speaking my language."

"Good!" He wiggled her knife. "Want a freebie?"

"Girls like a little confidence in a guy, but too much and you're just arrogant!" This was more fun than she had in weeks. "Go ahead."

"The Steering Committee and the Hope Cultivation Programme." He sighed theatrically. "A bunch of old farts trying to create Talent. Ring a bell?"

"Maybe~" She had been investigating their pet project, waiting for one of those Reserve Course rejects to take the bait. It would be pretty hilarious if their Ultimate Hope fell to Despair. "What about them?"

"The school should be going into lockdown right about…now." Sirens began to wail in the background. The duo continued to watch each other. "Because they've been mysteriously found dead. A shame, really." He slipped the knife up a sleeve. "But hey, now I know not to feed someone a grenade. It's messy."

She cackled. "Seriously!?"

He grinned, drawing his hood over his head as her sister burst into the room. "Pawn to E4. Your move."