I'm unable to stop myself from boggling. What- how the- this is an actual poem, how did...?! The game just offers the player a bunch of random words to string together without any actual connection, they can't possibly have made- did the game turn the words the player picked into this on its own? Why-?!

"Great job, Elano!" I enthusiastically exclaim while handing back the page. "I was going 'Ooh' in my head while reading it."

...I can't focus on this right now. I'm running out of time and lines to speak with. Like so very many other things as of late, it'll just have to wait until later.

"It's… no. Hey, player?" I start, talking over my intended line. "Yes, you, the one playing this game. I'm sorry to ask this, but could you reload the last save file, please? I... kind of forgot to do something important, which might screw a few things up if I don't fix it, so I'd really appreciate if you could do that."

I wait for a moment, hoping, but nothing happens besides Elano replying to an unspoken sentence.

"It's easiest for me to keep everyone's expectations low. That way, it always counts when I put in the effort."

I want to laugh at that, even though it made no sense without the set up line, but pull myself back.

"This isn't a joke, I swear." I try again. "I just need you to load another file. I don't even mind which one it is, either of them would be fine."

The script makes me shift to a new pose. I quickly drop out of it in favor of a pleading expression.

"Please, I'm begging you…" I continue, my heart sinking. "You don't understand, my very existence might be at stake here. I don't know what else to do…"

"I'm sure I'm nowhere near her level yet." Elano says.

"Please…"

Nothing.

I hang my head, even my gravity-defying ponytail seeming to droop. I can't even tell if that's confirmation that the player can't hear/read me and is only getting the normal scripted text, or if it's confirmation that they're just a jerk. There's no way to distinguish between the two from this side of things...

"I'm sure I'll end up trying different things a lot." Elano continues, oblivious to my plight. "It could take a while before I feel comfortable doing this."

"That's okay!" I say happily, a sudden rush of scripted positivity managing to override most of my disappointment at my plan's failure. "I'd love to see you try new things."

I shudder at my mood's abrupt attempt to invert itself, finding the almost 180-degree shift my emotions just went through extremely disorienting. Ugh, I guess that's one way of keeping me from dwelling on that idea's total failure.

The scene continues as I do my best to shake off the fake happiness and look down at the list in my hand, attempting to very, very quickly come up with another way out of this. I then do a double take upon suddenly realizing that the words on the page don't seem to be written in my usual winding cursive, but in a slanted, meticulously even print that I vaguely recognize from Monika's in-game poems. Wha- did the game change it to be like this when I wasn't looking? Or did I write it this way and somehow just not notice until now? Could the universe kindly stop throwing new confusing questions in my face before I've managed to get a complete handle on literally any of the old ones?!

Shoving yet another item into the increasingly full "issues for later" box, I check the code window to see what few lines remain.

}}} m "Ahaha!"
mc "Ahaha..."
m 1a "Anyway, do you want to read my poem now?"
m 1e "Don't worry, I'm not very good..."
mc "You sound pretty confident for someone who claims to not be very good."
m 1j "Well...that's 'cause I have to sound confident."
m 1b "That doesn't mean I always feel that way, you know?"
show monika 1a
mc "I see..."
mc "Well, let's read it, then."
return

Damn it, I'm basically out of time... okay, last chance. I'll try simply refusing to give up my list, and hope the script has the grace to allow that to happen. If that fails, the fallback is still running out of the room — it may just end up pissing the script off, but it's all I've got left.

The next few lines pass quickly, and soon Elano expectantly holds out his hand towards me.

"Well, let's read it, then."

I smile, but resist the urge to hold mine out in turn, refusing to move my hand from my side. Several seconds pass by, and the script relents as Elano speaks again.

"Um, Monika? Are you…blushing?"

"Hehe…maybe." I say, looking away and feeling a sudden hotness in my cheeks.

"No need to be embarrassed. I'm sure your poem is better than mine."

I laugh nervously. "I'm not embarrassed! Really. It's just…the subject of my poem isn't something I'm entirely comfortable with sharing."

I'll grant you that much is definitely true.

"Well, if you don't want to show me, I don't want to pressure you..." Elano says.

Wait, did that actually work? Oh thank god, about time this game threw me a bone-

"No, no," I say, my rising hopes immediately crashing back down as I shake my head. "I knew I would have to share it when I wrote it. It's just…here."

The urge to hand over the page returns, twice as strong as before. My left arm starts moving as if on its own, and I have to physically grab and restrain it with my right one to keep myself from passing the list over to Elano. Two completely opposing impulses clash with each other as I struggle with myself, straining not to let myself give in.

Alright, clearly the script does not want to take the out I offered it, so I guess it's time to leave!

I turn around and make a dash for the door — and in that same moment, my hand spasms and catches on a nearby desk. The impact isn't hard enough to do more than sting, but the surprise alone is enough to loosen my grip on the page I was so desperately keeping hold of. No-!

The list slips from my fingers and floats backwards, right into Elano's waiting hand. I whirl around to try to take it back before he looks at it, but slump upon seeing his gaze already fixed upon the page.

Great. I'm screwed...

"So…what do you think?" I hear myself ask.

I dully await the inevitable cascade of confused questions the script is doubtless about to have Elano launch at me.

"Hmm…it's very…freeform, if that's what you call it."

…huh?

"Sorry, I'm not really the right person to ask for feedback…"

Are you kidding me?

"Ahaha. It's okay." I say. "Yeah, that kind of style has gotten pretty popular nowadays."

I check the code window, which has now moved to a much earlier part of the file, and confirm what I already know — this is the original reaction to Monika's poem. It's line for line identical.

"That is, a lot of poems have been putting emphasis on the timing between words and lines." I continue. "When performed out loud, it can be really powerful."

Performed out lo- you couldn't perform that! What, did the script just decide to default to the original lines because it couldn't think of a way to write a proper reaction?! Or did it... turn the words on the page into something actually vaguely poetic, like his…?

"What was the inspiration behind this one?" Elano asks. "I know you said you weren't comfortable with the subject, so you don't have to tell me if you don't want, but I'm curious."

"Ah..." I hesitate. "Well, I'm not sure I know how to put it…I guess you could say that I had some kind of epiphany recently."

Yeah, specifically that I clearly have no idea what is and is not worth worrying about in- wait, epiphany? As in Monika's epiphany that she's a character in a dating sim? Is that a confirmation that this is Psych-Horror DDLC, or is there some other way that line could make sense? I… who even knows anymore…

As I tell Elano maybe I'll give everyone more detail on that after everyone is better friends, he hands me back my "poem", which I briefly look at to see if it's any different. Barring the possibility that it changed back while it was exchanging hands however, my list looks exactly the same as it did a minute ago. Elano just... doesn't care, I guess.

I spout off Monika's trademark Writing Tip of the Day in a sort of fugue state and tell Elano "Thanks for listening~", before darkness once again passes through the classroom to no apparent purpose. Another *ping*, another wave, and I'm standing next to the desk I claimed earlier, list still in hand, while Yuri is now standing in front of Elano instead.

I all but collapse into my seat, letting my head loll back so far that I feel the end of my ponytail brush the floor.

Well, crisis averted… sort of… honestly, was that even a crisis? Elano's the MC. He doesn't seem to have any ability to think or act beyond the confines of the script, and the script wants things to stay on track. Of course it didn't have him react any differently than he was originally supposed to. And yet, I…

...what am I even doing…

"Monika?"

I open my eyes and look to my right. Sayori has stood up from her desk, and is looking down at me with a sympathetic expression.

"Still tired, huh?"

"No, I'm just…" I start, only to trail off, reconsider, and sigh. "…yeah, I'm tired."

Tired of running my brain in circles like my thoughts are on some sort of mental Mobius strip, that is.

Sayori giggles. "Sorry! I'm kind of glad I'm not the only one though."

I glance somewhat resignedly at the code. Elano and Yuri are having their poem exchange... no sign of the hidden script... seems Sayori and I are free to talk. Not that I feel like I have any clue what to do with that information at the moment.

"Can I share my poem with you?" Sayori asks with a small smile.

...sure. Why not? I'm too mentally drained to know what to say or do right now anyways.

I wordlessly nod my assent, and Sayori passes me her torn sheet of looseleaf.

.

.

Keep Going

The days always leave me so so tired. My eyes so full of sleep.
So so I curl up atop the pillows, and sink beneath the sheets.
If only I could sleep forever, dozing the days away.
Always dreaming of you, and the things I know you'll never say.

In the dark of night, a voice calls out.
It whispers clear, and doesn't shout.
My ears might just be playing pretend.
But it sounds a little like a friend.

It reminds me of what I haven't done.
Reminds me what I still need to do.
Reminds me to keep on going.
Then it's gone, and all is quiet.

Their words echo through me as I do my best to stand.
Getting to my feet, trying not to slip and fall.
No matter what, they always push me onward.
But I wonder if they're enough.

Hoping that they're enough.
Wanting them to be enough.
Wishing they were enough.
Pleading for them to be enough.

…I still want to sleep.
But I know that I can't.

Because it's morning soon.

.

.

My eyebrows raise as I read through the verses. This isn't "Sunshine", but... unless I'm mistaken, it's still a poem about what Sayori was thinking of just after she woke up.

"How is it?" Sayori asks nervously.

Well, on the one hand, this is at least in part a pretty thinly-veiled account of my little visit to Sayori's room last night, making it more a short description of a literal event than anything else. On the other, it's also a pretty decent, almost blatant metaphor for Sayori's depression, which I can only assume is intentional, and the fact that she worked it in so well with the surreal "vision" I gave her is kind of impressive. Overall…

"I like it." I tell her honestly. "The repetition works well, and I can tell that there are multiple layers of meaning. The contrast between the first verses and the ending ones is pretty interesting too."

Sayori seems happy with that, and motions for me to go on. I briefly struggle to figure out something else to say — Sayori doesn't know I'm aware of her poem's actual subject matter, but trying to comment without referencing that is somewhat difficult.

"I also think the emotions feel really authentic." I add after a moment. "Although, the overall tone does seem a bit... ah..."

"Sad?" Sayori suggests as I trail off.

"...melancholy, might be a better word." I finish.

Sayori looks away, pressing her fingers together again. "I kind of think so too. I meant it to be bittersweet, but I wasn't feeling great when I wrote it. Looking at it now, it feels like there might be a bit too much bitter, and not enough sweet… maybe I'll try to write something a little happier next time."

She smiles, and I smile back. At least I've managed to do one thing right.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that, but write what you feel like writing, Sayori."

"I will. Thanks Monika!" Sayori says brightly, which I take as my cue to hand her poem back to her. "Do you want me to read yours now?"

I look down at the paper still clutched in my left hand.

I… guess there's technically no harm in it. That incident with Elano reminded me that since I know I can edit the .chr files now, I can probably just show everyone the list and then immediately erase their memory of it if they react poorly, or add a trait like "doesn't read Monika's poems" to their character traits. There was no reason for me to be so panicked about the idea earlier; I just hadn't gotten far enough in my thought process yet to realize it.

"Sure, but just to warn you, it might seem a little weird." I say, passing Sayori my list and reopening her file in preparation. I idly note that the most recent item in her event log says that she shared her poem with Natsuki, which I guess must have happened while I was busy with Elano.

Sayori's expression as she looks the list over goes from happy to confused nigh-instantly. Since there's not much on it, it doesn't take long for her to finish and turn back to me, still looking befuddled.

"Wondering if I passed you the wrong page?" I ask.

"N-no!" Sayori stutters. "It's just… really metaphorical? Sorry Monika, I don't think I quite get it…"

I suppose that's probably one of the kinder ways to express the sentiment "this makes no sense, and isn't really a poem".

"It's fine, don't worry about it." I assure her. "Elano said pretty much the same thing, and I don't think anyone else is going to 'get it' either. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really intend to be sharing this at all. It's not even done."

"Oh... really? So that's why it's…" Sayori trails off.

"Yeah." I answer anyways. "The club president not finishing the activity she herself assigned isn't exactly setting a great example, I know. Sorry about that. Promise the next one I bring in will be complete."

As in, when this day finally ends, I'm not letting the next one start until I'm good and ready for it.

"I'm gonna hold you to that promise, Monika." Sayori says playfully as she hands the page back to me. "Don't force me to use my super special Vice President powers on you!"

I snicker at her antics and snap off a casual salute. "Understood, ma'am!"

At that moment, another double scene transition sweeps through the room, leaving Natsuki talking to Elano, and Yuri back at her desk. Sayori walks away and heads towards the purple-haired girl, while I remain where I am, surprisingly uplifted from that small conversation. Huh, that actually managed to put me in a slightly better mood, and in a natural way, unlike when the script just forced happiness on me earlier.

Unfortunately, I now have to erase all record of that talk ever happening from Sayori's .chr file, which kind of sours things.

I stuff my list inside my desk as I check the already open file. As expected, Sayori's event log has a new item:

–Exchanged poems with Monika. Received primarily compliments on her own poem, but was personally dissatisfied with it, and concluded she should try to write something happier for the next one. Was somewhat confused by Monika's poem, thinking its contents rather strange, but ultimately brushed this off upon learning the poem was unfinished.

Huh, seems my saying I didn't finish actually might have been important. It was just a one off remark, but if Sayori only thought the list was "strange", and isn't going to dwell on it, then I might not actually need to erase this — in fact, if I'm still planning on trying to bring her into the fold later, her having already seen my list might even serve as a good lead-in. Unless the script is likely to use it as a catalyst between now and tonight for Sayori to have an epiphany in sudden and horrific fashion, I think I actually want to leave this be.

…wasn't this something I considered potentially disastrous, like, ten minutes ago?

I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh heavily, beyond frustrated with myself. I feel like I'm running around trying to put together a puzzle that keeps adding additional dimensions to itself, and not only do I not know if I have all the pieces, but the ones I do have, I keep putting in incorrectly. That is, when the arrival of more pieces doesn't sidetrack me from the ones I was already working on. I'm focusing on all the wrong things, panicking over stuff I don't need to, twisting my mind into knots trying to make sense of what's happening, and failing despite that.

Logically, I know that's not entirely my fault, what with how complicated the rules governing the continued operation of this world seem to be. However, my constant lack of focus and clearly lacking grasp on the numerous outstanding issues I've encountered thus far are definitely not helping. When today finally ends — and right now, I think my goal is just to reach the end of today — I really, really need to see if I can resolve some of those questions I've been so readily accumulating, else I'm eventually going to get myself so badly confused that I end up giving myself the digital equivalent of an aneurysm.

...although, given what happened during the last "nighttime", there is at least one thing I should probably try to figure out before then. Is there something I can write with in here?

I look around, figuring there's probably at least a pencil or two laying about. To the contrary however, the room appears barren of any and all writing implements — the blackboards don't even have any chalk in their trays.

Whoops, guess I started thinking about this place like a real classroom for a sec. That's annoying. If there's nothing in here…

I glance over at Sayori and Yuri, considering asking one of them if I can borrow something to write with, before deciding to search Monika's bag first. It didn't seem to have anything but the composition book in it earlier, but if I don't have anything to write with, I doubt anyone else does either, so I might as well look.

Luckily, it turns out I was wrong — there's a small zipper pouch on the inside lip that I didn't notice before, containing several copies of the same pink, heart-capped pen as the one that was waiting for me on the desk last night. Taking one out along with the currently blank notebook my poem was supposed to go in, I open the latter to a random page.

Alright. Let's see what happened with the text of my list.

Putting pen to page, I attempt to write the sentence "This is a test." on the first line — and the words automatically emerge in a neat, almost calligraphic manner, which seems to come completely naturally to me. It actually takes me a conscious moment of examining what I wrote before I realize it's most certainly not my usual handwriting, the lack of connection between the letters being a rather major tip off in my case.

...well, that certainly answers that. Can I force myself to write normally, at least?

As it turns out, no, no I cannot — no matter what I try, my usual large, looping lettering seems all but impossible now, with everything I write inevitably coming out in Monika's prim, precisely printed penmanship instead. Further testing shows that it's not just cursive I can't use though — I'm also unable to pen words sloppily, space letters further apart, or even reduce the slant of my text. Every stroke of the pen I make is measured, perfect, standardized, with results that ultimately look closer to typing than writing.

After a couple minutes of this, I stop, feeling like I've seen all I need to. Looks like the script didn't do anything to my escape methods list; I just physically can't write in any style besides the one Monika is meant to use, which seems perfectly familiar and normal if I'm not paying enough attention. Or perhaps "style" isn't the right word, since I'm pretty sure it's a literal font, which would explain not only the unwavering consistency of my writing, but also my total inability to alter it in any way. I don't know exactly how the typeface is linked to me, whether it's in my .chr file or some line buried deep within the code, but it's the only thing that makes any real sense, so at least that's one mystery solved.

…I'm not sure why, but somehow having my handwriting so thoroughly restricted feels more discomfiting to me than literally being Monika.

Shadows surge through the world again, an occurrence I think I'm actually starting to become numb to. Sayori is now talking to Elano, while Natsuki gets up from her desk and starts walking over to me.

"Hey Monika." she says before I can do anything, looking over the various pristine-looking nonsense scrawled upon the page in front of me. "What are you doing?"

"Um… nothing much." I reply somewhat guardedly. "Just practicing my handwriting."

Still no script, hidden or otherwise. Here I was all worried about having no time or place to explain anything to Yuri and Natsuki in the future, and it turns out if I'd waited all of fifteen in-game minutes or so, I'd have found out nearly the entire poem sharing time apparently qualifies, and probably not just today's. I'm still not going to say anything to them just yet — that can wait until after I've finished testing the waters and refining my approach with Sayori — but I swear, I'm going to drive myself spare with all these wrong assumptions.

"Seriously?" Natsuki stares at me, placing her hands on her hips. "I don't feel like that's something you usually need to practice, but I guess you are the club president for a reason."

I glance down. My clubmate has her poem in hand, so I doubt she's here just to make random small talk. Might as well head her off.

"Well, I wouldn't say that just yet." I comment. "I'm the only one here who didn't finish my poem, after all."

"...huh? What do you mean?" Natsuki asks, tilting her head to the right.

I smile sheepishly. "I mean exactly that. I didn't finish. Time just seemed to run away from me last night."

Somewhat literally, in fact.

"Really?" Natsuki blinks, clearly surprised. "That's not like you, Monika. You're always so… you know, on the ball."

"I know." I reply. "I'm kind of embarrassed about it, actually."

"Why not just do it now then?"

…what?

"We still have some time left before club ends," Natsuki points out, "and there's no reason you can't finish your poem here, right?"

"I… I suppose not…" I stutter.

"So what are you waiting for?"

I stare at the pink-haired girl for a moment, not entirely sure what to say. I could probably refuse, since the script isn't around to enforce any particular outcome to this conversation, but… I don't think there's really any good reason to do so?

"Come on Monika, you owe it to everyone to at least try." Natsuki pouts. "We can't trade poems with you if you don't have one yourself."

"…I suppose that's fair." I admit, capitulating.

The only "risk" to this I can think of is potentially embarrassing myself with a bad poem, so I suppose there's no real issue in going along with this.

I reach into my desk to pull out my list, before immediately thinking better of it and retracting my hand.

"Er… you know what, maybe I'll just start a new poem." I say somewhat nervously, flipping my notebook to a clean page. "I didn't really like where I was going with the other one anyways."

"Fine by me." Natsuki says indifferently. "Probably shouldn't make it too long though, or we won't have time to share."

I hum my agreement, but hesitate to put pen to paper again, bereft of a clear topic. I wouldn't really call myself bad at poetry, but it's pretty rare that I have reason to be writing anything like this, and when I do, I usually I have some sort of prompt to work with, not to mention a heck of a lot more time... I guess I'll just write about what I'm feeling right now or something? That's the only subject that immediately comes to mind, and I do admittedly have quite a lot to get off my chest…

I start writing, and words begin flowing out of me at a rather startling speed.

.

.

The place in which I've found myself
Is one I'd wish on no one else

At each turn a problem, each turn something new
Each time I learn something, it becomes untrue

I'm consumed by panic, torn apart by rage
Forced through the motions like a doll on parade

Struggle and thrash, but a lone displaced girl
Is hardly a match for the whims of the world

For a plan is in place, and it can't be resisted
It holds every card as the plot grows more twisted

The threads intertwining; complexity grows
A tangle of thorns from my brain's blooming rose

'Til all that remains is a mind without thought
Hopelessly snarled like the Gordian Knot

Should that time ever come, there'll be naught I can do
But await to be finally cloven in two…

.

.

I set the pen down, my hand actually cramping from how fast I wrote all that. Okay, that was really rushed, but for being written in all of a couple minutes? I think this actually looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.

...though, I'm not exactly fond of the overall tone, nor the ending for that matter. I was basically just writing off the top of my head, so it sort of naturally ended up like that, but while that is how it feels, it's certainly not how I want all of this to ultimately play out.

Trying to remind myself that things are technically looking up right now, I move to cross out the two end verses and replace them with something more uplifting. Before I can however, Natsuki notices that I've stopped writing.

"That was fast." she says, grabbing the notebook before I can protest. "Here, let me see… wow, you got a lot written in just a few minutes."

"Thanks, but I wasn't actually finished, Natsuki." I reply, slightly annoyed.

"...oh." Natsuki says, blushing. "It's just… it looked like you were done, so I thought-"

"It's fine, don't worry about it." I tell her, waving off the apology. I suppose it doesn't really matter how it ends; I only wrote it on request anyways. "I guess you could technically call it complete. Go ahead."

As Natsuki agrees and starts looking over the poem, I find myself briefly concerned I that I didn't properly think this through, given the subject I went with. I calm almost immediately however — the script isn't a factor right now, and unlike my escape methods list, the poem is fairly abstract, so it shouldn't be nearly as obvious how literal it actually is. I doubt Natsuki will extrapolate anything particularly important from it, and in the unlikely event that she does and takes it poorly, editing her .chr file is still on the table. I appreciate how knowing that I have that option now gives me a safety net of sorts.

"Well, I like the rhyme scheme," Natsuki starts, frowning, "but… this is kind of dour, Monika. Can't say I'm a huge fan of the tone."

Not surprising; I'm not either.

"I can see what you were going for though." the pink-haired girl continues. "Feeling frustrated and helpless to control your own destiny, with everything seeming overwhelming and out of your hands sometimes… it's definitely relatable. I am interpreting that right, aren't I?"

"You got it." I say, smiling sadly.

I mean, she's not actually wrong, truth be told.

"Have to say, I'm a little surprised you of all people would feel that way Monika." Natsuki comments. "You always seem so much more put together than everyone else. It's actually a little hard to imagine you writing this, even though I just watched you do it."

I almost snort. That would be wrong even if I actually were Monika.

"I'm far from perfect, Natsuki." I reply. "I get stressed out and overwhelmed just like everybody else. Maybe I'm just better at hiding it than most."

"Huh…" Natsuki seems to think on that for a moment, looking back at the poem again. "Well, I still feel like this could be a little less bleak, but I guess for what you were writing about, it works pretty well. Do you have a title for it?"

"Ah, I hadn't really thought about it, but…" I ruminate on it for a moment, "how about 'The World Won't Break Me'?"

Natsuki squints at me for a moment in response, then shrugs.

"Don't know if that really fits, but it's your poem, so if you say so Monika."

She hands me back the notebook, and I take a moment to write my on-the-spot title at the top of the page. Yes, it's a little contrary given where I left it, but I kind of like that.

"A-anyways, you can take a look at my poem now. If you want to, I mean." Natsuki says, looking away and crossing her arms under her chest.

I restrain myself from rolling my eyes at her less-than-believable attempt to act like she doesn't really care.

"Sure Natsuki. Pass it over."

She does, and I take a look.

.

.

Eagles Can Fly

Monkeys can climb
Crickets can leap
Horses can race
Owls can seek
Cheetahs can run
Eagles can fly
People can try
But that's about it

.

.

…nothing unusual here, it seems.

"Very nice." I compliment, handing it back. "Pretty simple, but I think the final sentence has more of an impact as a result."

Natsuki grins.

"That's exactly what I was going for!" she says, flashing her small fang at me. "You do get what it's about, right?"

I tap my finger against my chin for a moment, trying to recall what she said about it in the game. "You were trying to represent feelings of inadequacy, weren't you?"

Natsuki nods, her expression becoming a little downcast. "Yeah. Seeing other people do incredible things, while you're just sort of going along through life? It's pretty discouraging, sometimes. It can be hard to not just stop trying."

"I understand that." I say sympathetically. "Doing your best, only to never quite measure up to others… it's a horrible feeling."

That came out a little more negatively than I intended, but Natsuki doesn't seem to mind.

"Pretty impressive I managed to represent that with just one line though, right?" she says, preening.

I smile at her with slightly lidded eyes. "I suppose so."

Natsuki seems to freeze for a moment, apparently not having expected me to answer in the affirmative, and begins sporting another blush.

"A-anyways!" she sputters, "I still have to talk to Yuri, so I… guess I'd better go do that."

"Right... try to keep an open mind." I tell her, seeing that she doesn't look terribly enthused about the prospect.

Natsuki nods somewhat grudgingly as the seemingly never-ending parade of scene transitions continues, though finally showing some variation in that only a single wave goes by this time. Natsuki starts walking around the classroom to where Yuri is sitting, while Sayori is immediately teleported from the front of the classroom to the side of her desk. Being all of a few feet to my right, she immediately notices the new addition to my composition book.

"What's that, Monika?" she asks.

"Er… Natsuki didn't want to trade for an unfinished poem, so I wrote a new one." I quickly explain, not having expected to jump right from one unscripted conversation into another.

"Ooh, can I see?"

I tentatively nod and pass Sayori the notebook, figuring there wasn't any issue when Natsuki saw it, so it's probably fine. As the other girl looks the page over, a sudden rush of cheer infuses me, and I find myself hoping she finishes quickly so we can talk... but not about anything specific, which rather confuses me. Huh? Is this the script, or am I just suddenly feeling talkative?

I check the code window. There's a line that just finished executing, which I can only assume is the one responsible:

"Across the room, Sayori and Monika are happily chatting."

...apparently "happily chatting" without any further details means there's no pre-defined topic, so I guess we're still free to discuss whatever, so long as we discuss something? That seems weirdly generous of the script. I am feeling a little less frazzled than I was earlier, so I suppose I could get a head start on tonight's planned discussion...? But I already know we're going to get interrupted, and there's probably not enough time for me to get into anything all that important. I guess I'll just leave it be for now.

"This is really good Monika!" Sayori declares as she finishes reading. "You wrote this in just a few minutes?"

"Yep!" I say, the cheer still affecting me. "It could probably stand to be refined a little actually. I haven't really gotten the chance yet."

Sayori shakes her head. "Maybe, but I like it as is! The metaphors kind of remind me of Yuri's and Elano's poems, though yours seems a little more… um… accessible, I guess?" she says, pausing for a moment. "Actually, the rhymes are a lot like Natsuki's poem, and the tone almost feels like something I might write. It's like a perfect blend of all our styles!"

Sayori's jubilant expression suddenly falls and takes a dip into panic. "Er, not to say you don't have your own style Monika! I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, it's fine!" I laugh. "I'm not insulted, don't worry."

She's giving me way more credit than she probably should, honestly. Also, now that I think of it, maybe I should at least tell Sayori I'll probably be showing up at her house tonight? If possible, I'm hoping to actually enter through the door this time, and it feels like I owe her that basic courtesy.

"Hey, Sayori?" I start as she places my notebook back on my desk. "I might need your help with something."

"Hmm?" Sayori looks at me with a doe-eyed gaze. "With what? The festival?"

"No, it's not that." I say, keeping an ear on the quiet altercation that's begun on the other side of the room. "I don't think I have the time to explain right now, so do you mind if I pop in and talk to you about it later tonight?"

"Tonight?" Sayori repeats. "Does that mean you're coming over to my house?"

I nod. "If you don't mind."

"Wait…" Sayori says slowly. "Monika, are you asking to have a sleepover with me?"

The suddenly excitement in her voice, combined with her near-ecstatic expression, catches me rather off guard.

"I… uh…" I stammer, not having expected that particular interpretation of my words. "I mean, I guess you could call it that, but-"

"I'd absolutely love to!" Sayori exclaims with a brilliant smile.

Ah- no, I wasn't...

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Sayori beams, her expression perhaps the happiest I've seen from her thus far. "I already can't wait!"

...I... fine.

"Wow, I can't even remember the last time I had a sleepover!" Sayori says, giggling. "What should we do? Stay up late? Paint our nails? Share secrets with each other?"

"Eheh... sure..." I mumble, looking away.

Somehow I doubt this will involve... well, actually at least two of those items probably will feature prominently come to think of it, but not in the way Sayori seems to expect. Still, no need to rain on her parade just yet.

"Ooh! If we're doing more of them for tomorrow, we can even work on our poems together!" Sayori chirps.

At that, I do smile, looking down at my poem again. I admit, while I've never really seen the appeal of a literature club before, writing and sharing this was actually kind of fun. Not exactly helpful in getting me out of here, but essentially harmless, so-

My veins turn to ice. Essentially harmless, unless the script decides to count this as my poem for tomorrow once today ends. I'm not sure how much narrative sense that would make with both Natsuki and Sayori already having seen it, but it's been repeatedly proven to me that I can't trust I know what the script will do — the poem has to go. I'd do that now, except Sayori is literally right next to me, so how do I do that without-

"Oh? I didn't realize you were so interested in trying to impress our new member, Yuri."

Natsuki's loud, spiteful sounding accusation rings out over the room, as does the sound of her chair's legs screeching against the floor as she suddenly stands up.

"E-Eh?!" Yuri squeaks in response. "That's not what I...! Uu...You...You're just..."

Yuri stands up too, and I look to my side — Sayori's attention has been completely diverted by the now rapidly escalating argument. Well, that works...

I quickly slip the still open book into my desk, alongside the escape methods list. Placing the unbound page on top as an afterthought, I quietly start tearing both pages to shreds, one for the second time over. Assuming this actually destroys them like I hope it does, I suppose Yuri won't be seeing either of these — I wonder why she never came over to exchange hers with mine? Not that I'm complaining, but the opportunity is clearly gone at this point. Maybe the game just didn't get around to it.

As Yuri snaps at Natsuki again, Sayori gets up and rushes over to intercede. Shortly after, I find myself getting up at the behest of the script and following her lead.

"U-Um! Is everyone okay...?" Sayori asks, attempting to cut in.

"Well you know what?" Natsuki all but yells, completely ignoring her. "I wasn't the one whose boobs magically grew a size as soon as Elano started showing up!"

"N-Natsuki!" Yuri gasps.

"Um, Natsuki," the script has me say uncertainly, "that's a little..."

"This doesn't involve you!" Yuri and Natsuki yell in tandem at both of us.

They're right, honestly. I know I certainly don't feel like I really need to participate in this.

With the level of noise going on around me making it next to impossible to concentrate on anything important, I just busy myself attempting to dissociate from the argument as the girls inevitably suck Elano into it, essentially trying to force him to choose the winner. I hear another *ping* when he finally chooses to respond, whereupon he decides to pass the buck to Sayori, who eventually manages to calm everything down…

"Natsuki's cute and there's nothing wrong with that!" Sayori asserts. "And Yuri's boobs are the same as they always were! Big and beautiful!"

…though her concluding statement could perhaps have used some revising. All the same, it seems to work, as Yuri flees under the pretense of making tea, while Natsuki sits down with a thousand yard stare.

"So, this is why Sayori is Vice President…" Elano leans over and whispers to me.

I suppose saying things like that with utter sincerity and zero embarrassment is a rather unique skill, yes. I don't bother to speak over the script to actually say that however, instead letting it guide me through the rest of the brief conversation until yet another scene transition leaves me standing at the front of the room. I think I've literally lost track of how many of them there have been at this point.

"Okay, everyone!" I announce to the room. "It's just about time for us to leave. How did you all feel about sharing poems?"

Everyone responds positively, prompting a swell of delight to rise within my chest.

"Awesome! In that case, we'll do the same thing tomorrow." I declare. "And maybe you learned something from your friends, too. So your poems will turn out even better!"

As I attempt to temper the flow of false emotion (despite how nice it feels), Sayori walks up to Elano and asks him if he's ready to walk home. As they begin walking out, I find myself unexpectedly calling out to them.

"I'll be over later in the evening, okay Sayori?"

Sayori smiles at me and nods before exiting the classroom with Elano. Apparently, the script is now on board with the sleepover plan. Makes sense — we did make arrangements for later in an unscripted scene, which tracks with how I changed the script before club started. I'm not sure I like that, but hopefully with nothing originally planned for this evening, there won't be any issues…

The world begins to shift, and a final tide of black floods in. The formless mass of shadow breaks upon me, and I let myself be swept away.