The Guests From Afar — (Danganronpa x Alice in Borderland)

by mxshroomblqnkiit

Summary:

A world where survival is the ultimate game. If everything you’ve ever known is a lie, how would you even begin to see the truth?

******

A Danganronpa × Alice in Borderland story where Shuichi Saihara is the main protagonist. Must he always suffer through hell?

Notes:

Hello! I have no idea how this works.

But hey, look! First story! I hope I actually finish this one. :3

Chapter 1: Introduction

Summary:

[March 19. 2025] [EDIT!!!]: New people if you see this, beware that the first few chapters have kinda shit writing and are a bit short😭But trust it gets better overtime🙏

Things I’d just like to say:

-This story will mostly feature V3 characters as the main cast. But fret not, THH and DR2 are included!!
-This is my first time working with AO3, so I still don't know how most things work. :')
-The V3 characters will be a mixture of pre-game and in-game. (At least my perception of them.)
-The background and irrelevant characters will be given random names and random Ultimates.
-My headcanons are also very much included. :]
- Weekly updates unless I say I feel tired or lazy. :>
- Normal amount of words in a chapter would be 3000-4000 at best. If it takes a little too long for me to update, it might be 6000+
-Forgive me for not knowing canon Danganronpa lore well.
-Also sorry if your favorite isn't here! I'm trying to include everybody.
-I often reread previous chapters and edit the paragraphs. Sometimes the ones that has a flashback, so if those don't align, pay no mind.

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Chapter 2: Three of clubs 1.1

Summary:

A solid starting hand doesn't ensure a successful finish. This rule always applies.

Notes:

[EDITED ON THIS DAY: JULY 25. 2025]

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Time was like a stream, always rushing along, never quite asking where you'd like to go.

If you slipped in, well, you’d be whisked away, with nary a say in the matter.

It flowed endlessly, this curious little river of time, pulling you along as it pleased, with no mind to your desires or protests.

No choices here, you see. Only the current knew where it fancied taking you.

And somewhere in that bustling stream, in a quaint little classroo, a teenage boy lounged atop his desk with his posture languid. He sat, a lone figure in the middle of whispered conversations and the scratch of pencils on paper, as if he were a dandelion in a field of busy bees. The teacher’s voice droned on, like a gentle lullaby of facts and figures, while he pondered the mysteries of time: Why must it crawl like a snail when he wished for it to race like a rabbit?

Time seemed to stretch, each tick of the clock scratching his brain roughly. His gaze wandered to the window, where the world outside seemed far more intriguing than the lessons droning on inside.

Suddenly, a folded piece of paper slid onto his desk, nudged with just enough force to catch his attention. The edge of the note caught the light, its presence understated yet deliberate, much like the blonde girl who had sent it. She didn’t look his way, not now at least.

He unfolded the paper slowly, careful not to draw any eyes. Inside, a few words were scribbled in quick, sharp handwriting.

“This place is a joke, Shuichi. Tell me you’re as bored as I am.”

A brief glance to the side showed her posture was unchanged, as though she hadn’t just admitted, in her own blunt way, to sharing his quiet discontent. He stared at the note for a moment, the corners of his lips barely lifting into the hint of a smile. He picked up his pen, tapping it idly before leaning over to write a reply beneath her words.

”Kaede, I'm trying not to fall asleep.”

He folded the note and, in one subtle motion, slid it back to her desk. The gesture was quiet, much like their silent exchange, as if nothing had happened at all.

Kaede’s fingers slid over the note, unfolding it with the same quiet care Shuichi had shown. She glanced down at his neat reply and, for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. No smile, no outward reaction, but just a slight pause.

“Always. You’re the only person here who doesn’t annoy me.”

Kaede, he thought, was a paradox.

Outside of school, she radiated warmth, her laughter brightening even the dullest days. She poured her heart into her piano playing, fingers dancing over keys. Yet here, within these four walls, a different version of her emerged. She would glare at the chatter around her and made it clear that she wanted to distance herself from the crowd. It was almost humorous, how she could flip from effervescent to misanthropic in an instant, as if school transformed her into a version of herself she hardly recognized.

”I guess that makes two of us. Let’s keep each other sane, at least.”

Later at lunchtime, the cafeteria was noisy with the usual crowd of students. Shuichi moved through the crowd with his eyes scanning the sea of faces until he spotted Kaede at their usual table in the corner. He slid into the seat across from her, relieved to find her there; her tray stayed mostly untouched as she tapped her fingers against the surface.

“Hey,” he greeted, “I thought you might skip today.”

Kaede looked up, a small smile on her face upon seeing him. “I almost did. But I figured it was better to face the madhouse with company.”

As their conversation flowed, Shuichi was just about to fire off another remark when a sudden voice interrupted them, loud and overly confident.

“There you two are!”

A taller boy with violet hair stormed up to the table, grinning like he’d just won a game no one else was playing. Without asking, he dropped his tray next to them and flopped into the seat beside Shuichi, making the table rattle.

Kaede raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, while Shuichi just sighed. “Kaito.”

Kaito slapped Shuichi on the back, nearly knocking him forward. “Come on, you guys look like you’re planning a secret evil takeover or something. Lighten up!” He flexed his arm like he was trying to intimidate the entire cafeteria, but all it did was make the blonde roll her eyes harder.

“We were just talking about how to make school more unbearable,” Kaede deadpanned. “Maybe you’ve got some ideas?”

He laughed, clearly missing the sarcasm. “Unbearable? Nah! This place isn’t so bad. You just gotta take charge! Show everyone who’s boss!” He clenched his fist, clearly envisioning himself as the cafeteria’s self-appointed king.

“Mhm,” Shuichi muttered, rubbing his back where Kaito had smacked him. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

Kaito grinned, leaning in like he was about to drop the most life-changing advice. “Simple. You gotta be intimidating. Walk in like you own the place! No one messes with the guy who looks like he’s ready to knock them out.”

Kaede snorted. “Pretty sure that only works in sports movies.”

For reasons neither Shuichi nor Kaede fully understood, their trio with Kaito somehow worked. It shouldn’t have, not on paper. Shuichi and Kaede were the quiet, cynical pair who preferred to blend into the background, sharing snide remarks and dark humor like an inside joke with the universe. Kaito, on the other hand, was a burst of energy: loud, overly confident, and completely shameless about taking up space wherever he went.

After lunch, the trio wandered through the crowded hallways, walking past groups of students without really paying attention to them. Shuichi walked slightly behind Kaede and Kaito, his hands stuffed in his pockets, while Kaede strolled next to him, arms crossed and eyes focused straight ahead. Kaito, as usual, dominated the conversation.

“I'm telling you, all we need is a plan,” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. “You guys focus too much on the negatives. We could totally pull off something fun. Maybe we skip out early and head to the arcade or something!”

She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Sure, because that’ll make sitting through the next three classes totally worth it.”

Shuichi chuckled softly, glancing at her. “Skipping school sounds more appealing the longer you talk about it.”

Kaito's smile broadened, clapping Shuichi on the back–again. “See? That’s the spirit! You’re finally coming around.”

Shuichi couldn’t help but smile at that. As obnoxious as Kaito’s enthusiasm could be, there was something undeniably comforting about his persistence. He kept walking a step behind, watching as Kaito launched into another dramatic tale of something that happened at his last basketball game.

Despite Kaede’s initial skepticism and Shuichi’s hesitation, Kaito had managed to convince them–just this once–to skip the rest of the day. After all, the idea of sitting through hours of dull classes was unbearable when the outside world beckoned with so much more life.

The plan to hit the arcade had been Kaito’s grand idea, but as they wandered through the busy streets, each arcade they checked had signs plastered across the doors: CLOSED FOR RENOVATION or TEMPORARILY CLOSED. Kaito’s usual enthusiasm wavered each time, but he refused to give up hope until they reached the fourth one and found the same disappointing sign.

“Well, this sucks,” he mumbled, staring at the shuttered door. “Who closes all the arcades at the same time?”

Kaede crossed her arms, staring at the sign like it had personally offended her. “Maybe the universe is telling you something. Like, ‘Go back to class, you idiot.’”

“Yeah, that or maybe you didn’t check if they were open before dragging us here.” Shuichi leaned against the wall beside her, his hands deep in his pockets, watching Kaito’s face slowly fall.

Kaito scoffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine! Maybe I didn’t. But there’s no way I’m going back now.”

“Well, we’re already here. I’m not going back either.” She let out a sigh.

Shuichi pushed off the wall, glancing up and down the street, people rushing by in waves. “Then what now?”

For a moment, there was silence, as the city continued on around them. Kaito ran a hand through his hair, looking around like he might find an idea lying on the sidewalk. Then, with a sudden grin, he pointed toward the heart of the city.

“Let’s just go to Shibuya Crossing,” he said, ”hang out, people-watch. It’ll be fun.”

She arched an eyebrow. “People-watching? Really?”

“Hey, it’s better than going back to school.”

Shuichi exchanged a glance with Kaede. The thought of wandering back through the gates of their suffocating high school was far from appealing. And while Kaito’s alternative plan wasn’t exactly thrilling, the idea of being out in the city, free from responsibilities, was enough to sway them.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”

The blonde sighed dramatically. “Fine. Lead the way, Mr. People-Watcher.”

With Kaito in the lead, they left the arcades behind, heading deeper into the city. Even though their original plan had fallen apart, none of them seemed to mind.

The three of them stood there, side by side, letting the world rush by around them, content in the moment. It was one of those rare times where none of them had to be anything more than who they were: a bored kid with a detective uncle, a piano prodigy with too much on her mind, and a wannabe hero trying to live life in the biggest way possible. Somehow, it was enough. The Shibuya Crossing was as lively as ever, with people bustling about, cars honking and music blaring from nearby shops.

Kaede broke the silence with a question. “So uh, what now?”

The trio exchanged glances, all of them sharing a look of “we didn't think this far ahead.”

“Oh well,” Shuichi sighed, “I wish I could just go somewhere nobody knows.”

“It'd be pretty bad if zombies showed up in Shibuya, huh?” She snickered, picturing the scene. “If everyone gets bitten, they'll all turn into zombies!”

“Cut it out with the zombie talk and focus on where we should go,” Kaito exhaled, trying to sound in charge.

“But if zombies did show up, only Kaito would survive,” Shuichi tried to tease with a small smile, nudging his shoulder. “You'd take them down with just one punch.”

“No, it wouldn't be me.” He shook his head and turned to him. “You'd be the one to survive, Shuichi.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I know you'd outsmart them.”

“Huh…”

“You know, Shuichi,” he bega, glancing at the crowded streets, “maybe you should stop hanging out with us and try to live a normal life.”

“What? Why would you say that?” He turned to him, tilting his head in confusion and waiting for a reply, but none came. He let out a soft hum and leaned back against the wall.

Shuichi’s curiosity was sparked by Kaito's words, but he chose not to press the issue. Instead, the three friends settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. They stood there, leaning against the wall, observing the passersby and soaking in the lively sounds of the city around them.

“Ah, screw it!” Kaito suddenly exclaimed, surprising everyone as he bent down and wrapped his strong arms around Shuichi's thighs. In one swift motion, he hoisted him up onto his shoulders. “Here we go!”

“K- Kaito! What are you doing?” He gasped, taken aback. His hands instinctively grabbed onto the back of Kaito’s head for balance.

But his friend could only smile, steadying himself as he held Shuichi's thighs firmly and declared cheerfully. “This is your Independence Day, Shuichi!”

Meanwhile, Kaede whipped out her phone, excitement lighting up her face now that she was away from school. “Oh, we definitely need to take a photo!”

With a nod, Kaito started striding confidently into the busy streets of Shibuya, Kaede trotting along behind them with her phone camera ready. As they wove through the throngs of people, he called out loudly to the passersby, announcing their presence. “Move aside, coming through!”

A few people turned to look at the unusual sight of a man carrying another man on his shoulders, a phone aimed at them.

“Kaito, put me down! This is so embarrassing!” He protested, but a smile crept onto his lips despite his words.

Kaito soon spotted an open space in the middle of the street and came to a stop, spreading his arms wide and flexing dramatically. Kaede raised her phone, excitement in her eyes. “Hold that pose, Kaito! Let me get a shot!”

“Hey, don’t take my picture!” Shuichi exclaimed, laughter breaking through his embarrassment. Then, without warning, his friend abruptly spun around, causing him to nearly lose his balance. His arms flailed wildly as he instinctively grasped Kaito's head, holding on for dear life.

“Here, Shuichi! Over here!” She giggled, capturing the moment with her camera as flashes of light danced in front of them. “C'mon, Shuichi! Here! Smile!”

“Stop it already!” He yelled, his voice half-laughing, half-exasperated. Yet, despite his protests, a grin began to form on his lips. The initial shock of being spun around was quickly replaced by an exhilarating rush, the kind that made his heart race. The more they spun, the more Shuichi found himself getting swept up in the moment. He and Kaito were both shouting and laughing, enjoying the wild ride.

They didn’t care how foolish they looked, twirling around in the middle of the street like a pair of kids at play. It was just pure, unadulterated fun; an unforgettable moment of friendship that made everything else fade away. As the pedestrian light turned green and cars began to move forward, the trio suddenly realized they were still standing in the middle of the road, blocking traffic. Curious onlookers stared at them, a mix of amusement and confusion on their faces. Shuichi urgently tugged at Kaito's shoulders, desperate to get down. Kaito quickly understood and crouched low, allowing Shuichi to step off his shoulders just in time.

“Hey!” Shuichi exclaimed, taking a quick step back as a motorcycle zoomed past, nearly running him over. The trio turned to retreat, but another car sped by, forcing them to halt. In a panic, they turned and ran in the opposite direction, dodging traffic. Just as they thought they were in the clear, another car came barreling toward them.

Kaito, reacting instinctively, yelled out, “Run!”

Without a second thought, they dashed forward, sprinting down the street as cars whizzed by on both sides. “Hurry up!” Shuichi urged, pushing Kaito ahead.

“Look, fireworks!”

They were so lost in the thrill of their chaotic escape that they barely registered Kaede's exclamation. Fireworks in the morning sky? They didn't have time to ponder the strange sight, too preoccupied with their wild dash to safety.

Eventually, they reached the sidewalk, panting and gasping for breath. As the trio stumbled onto the pavement, their heavy breaths gradually slowed, only to halt abruptly when they spotted police officers exiting a nearby building.

Shared looks of anxiety passed between them.

“Where to!?” She exclaimed, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead as she hurried to keep up with Kaito and Shuichi. With the police in hot pursuit, the trio dashed into a subway station, only to find more officers coming down the stairs.

Shuichi, with his quick thinking, immediately steered the group towards the restroom, “Head for the restroom!”

“Guys, I'm a girl—” “Just move!”

They rushed into the male restroom, the door swinging shut behind them. Kaede awkwardly mumbled an apology, her cheeks burning red as she glanced around. Meanwhile, Shuichi and Kaito frantically scanned the cramped space for a place to hide. In a panic, they spotted a stall and rushed inside, locking the door behind them. The three of them clumsily compressed into the tiny space, their backs pressed against the walls and faces all but squished together.

All three of them exchanged glances, panting with hearts racing, before bursting into hushed laughter.

It was utterly ridiculous, hiding in a bathroom stall from the police, but somehow, they made it work—at least for the moment. As they all tried to suppress their laughter, a sudden and rather comical event occurred. The lights in the bathroom went out, plunging them into complete darkness. A collective gasp echoed through the stall.

“Power outage,” she pointed out quietly.

Shuichi slowly leaned his ear against the stall door, straining to hear anything over the unsettling silence. He glanced back at Kaito and Kaede,, “I’ll go out and check.”

“Be careful,” Kaito warned, his eyebrow furrowed with concern as he watched Shuichi carefully open the door.

No one was inside the restroom. Not even a single stranger.

The silence was almost deafening.

They trudged out of the make restroom and into the subway. They were utterly alone, the silence broken only by the sound of their breathing and occasional distant city noises. They headed to the entrance of the subway and not a soul was found.

Where did everyone go?

The trio spent the day exploring the eerily vacant city, the absence of people was becoming increasingly disconcerting. Shops and restaurants were dead silent, and not a soul was found on the streets. It was as if everyone had vanished into thin air. As the sun began to set, the group gathered in the center of Shibuya. A city that was already abandoned now plunged into complete darkness.

“Could it be...an evacuation drill...?” Kaede mused, trying to make sense of the situation, “or an event? A flash mob, maybe?”

Kaito shook his head, letting out a sigh as he took a swig from a water bottle he had grabbed from a nearby store that remained oddly open. “The scale is too huge for that."

“If only the three of us remain here…” Shuichi trailed off, not bothering to finish his thought as he looked around at the quiet streets and monotonous buildings. “This is...quite nice.”

“What?” The two replied in unison.

A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Don't you find this exciting? It's like a situation I would see in my favorite show.”

The two of them exchanged glances, then stared at Shuichi as if he had grown another head. “Are you insane?”

Kaede hummed as she started to nod. “...You're right. This is kind of nice," a small smile formed on her face, "with this, we don't have to attend school anymore.”

“Have you guys gone crazy?” Kaito narrowed his eyes, his mouth going agape.

“No one would be angry at us,” the pianist continued. “And we could eat and drink all we want, right?”

Shuichi joined in, sharing her enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s like a free day in a deserted paradise!”

Kaito, however, struggled to keep a straight face. “Yeah, yeah, sounds like a dream come true. No parents, no responsibilities, just unlimited junk food and a city to ourselves. What more could you ask for?” His tone was sarcastic, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes suggested he was starting to warm up to the idea.

She pushed herself off the ground, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. The quiet surroundings made her feel oddly empowered. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted as loud as she could.

“Echo!!” Her voice rang out, bouncing off the buildings around her. “Can I get a pizza and a soda?!”

Shuichi and Kaito joined in with Kaede, rising to their feet and standing together in the middle of the empty street. They giggled like little kids playing a strange game.

“I want some ramen!” Shuichi yelled, a genuine smile brightening his face.

“Dibs on all the cola!” Kaito added.

“And I want fried chicken!” she exclaimed. They all stood there, in the middle of the empty and quiet city, shouting out their food orders as if they were at a drive-thru.

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on them, but their spirits remained high. Then, all of a sudden, the peaceful silence of the night was shattered.

A grand white screen emerged against a nearby building, casting a bright glow that danced through the darkness like a mischievous flame. Bold letters blinked to life, proclaiming:

“WELCOME, PLAYERS.”

followed closely by a weird reminder:

“THE GAME WILL COMMENCE IN A MOMENT.”

“Game?” The pianist parroted, her gaze fixed upon the enchanting white screen, shared with her two companions.

”THIS WAY TO THE GAME ARENA.”

burst forth in grand letters, gesturing towards a beckoning path ahead.

“Game arena?”

Shuichi, who had been quietly observing, turned to follow the screen’s direction and spotted...red lights. “Over there!”

She frowned concerningly. “There are lights.”

“Is someone there?” The violet-haired boy hopeful asked. The three exchanged a quick glance. “Let’s go.”

They ran, their breaths coming in short gasps as they dodged past deserted streets and buildings. Every now and then, they would exchange worried glances, but they continued their dash towards the destination. At last, they reached the place the screen had pointed them to. The GM Building towered before them, its imposing structure casting a shadow in the night. However, unlike its usual dark silhouette, it was now adorned with a multitude of dazzling lights, twinkling like a festive Christmas tree.

In a moment of silent understanding, they began to walk forward, their footsteps echoing softly against the ground. They lifted their gazes to a screen that declared:

“THE GAME ARENA IS UP AHEAD.”

With a nod, they cautiously moved toward the corner where an arrow pointed to the right. As they rounded the bend, they found an elevator, its doors a deep, foreboding red. Beside it stood a small desk, adorned with several phones, each one neatly aligned. A sign hung above them, stating:

“ONE PER PERSON.”

Drawn to the desk, their eyes darted between the elevator and the phones. Kaito reached for one first, examining its details closely, followed by Kaede and Shuichi, who did the same.

“FACE RECOGNITION IN PROCESS…”
“PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT.”

... ...

“WELCOME, ULTIMATE DETECTIVE.”

Shuichi stared at the screen, puzzled. Ultimate Detective? What does that even mean?

“Ultimate Pianist...?” Kaede read from the phone she had chosen, her expression turning skeptical. “It has facial recognition, too...”

“Ultimate Astronaut? Does this mean I’m destined to be one?!” He beamed, a bright smile spreading across his face. But as his friends turned to him, his excitement faded into a sheepish frown. He cleared his throat. “Can we actually use these phones?”

“There’s no signal,” Shuichi noted, his eyes fixed on the symbol above the screen. “We can’t make calls with this.”

Suddenly, another message flashed across the phone, repeating the earlier announcement from the white screen:

“PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE.”

Below it, a countdown loomed ominously:

“TWO MINUTES UNTIL REGISTRATION CLOSES. THERE ARE CURRENTLY THREE PARTICIPANTS.”

“...What’s this?” Kaito asked aloud, his gaze still locked on the glaring white screens.

“A game.”

The three of them spun around, startled by the sudden voice.

There stood a slender young woman who looked poised and elegant. Her long ashy-green hair cascaded partially over her left eye, framing her face. She wore a long black apron-dress adorned with a spiderweb pattern, layered over a simple white dress and a purple tie.

They exchanged bewildered glances before the latter whisper-yelled, “There’s a human!”

“Uh...um, e- excuse me, do you know where everyone went...?” Shuichi asked politely, giving a slight bow.

The girl in the black dress stepped forward, her gaze stern. She turned to the Kaede. “May I borrow your hair clip?”

“...Sure?” Kaede replied, watching as the woman carefully removed the clip from her hair and then abruptly tossed it behind her. It hit an invisible barrier, erupting in a flash of red.

“What was that?!” Kaito gasped, stepping back. “A laser?!”

“Once you cross the borderline, you can never return,” the woman said flatly, her eyes fixed on the singed hair clip on the floor. “You have no choice but to participate in the games.”

Shuichi, ever curious, stepped forward to investigate the boundary. But just as he reached out, a red light flared to life in front of him, halting him in his tracks. A small hole opened in the ceiling, and thin, wispy smoke began to drift down.

The newcomer let out a sigh. “Please don't tell me...you're first timers? Did you three just get here?”

“Um…” Kaede hummed, glancing at her companions then back at the woman with a small shrug. ”Yes…?”

Although, Shuichi frowned. “How do you know this? If you have information, just tell us.”

“My name isn't ‘you.’ It's Kirumi,” she replied coolly, ”Kirumi Tojo. Labeled the Ultimate Maid.”

Just as the three friends were starting to process the bizarre situation they found themselves in, another person suddenly appeared. It was a regular schoolgirl in a standard uniform, and upon seeing the group, she exclaimed with relief.

“I'm so relieved!” She cried out. “Geez! I thought I wouldn't find anyone here!”

The trio stood frozen in panic as the schoolgirl approached the red line. Their instincts kicked in, and they began shouting warnings, desperate to alert her to the potential danger.

“No, no, no, wait!” Kaito waved his hands to her in alarm.

To their surprise and relief, the schoolgirl crossed the line without any issue. She walked right through as if it were nothing. They all exhaled in unison, tension easing as they watched her join them, their worries momentarily forgotten. Before the schoolgirl could even speak, the woman who calls herself Kirumi stepped forward and wordlessly handed her a phone. Her pale eyes, calm and unreadable, fixed on the newcomer as she extended the device, “My condolences.”

“REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED.”

“THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

“GAME, 'DEAD OR ALIVE.’”
“DIFFICULTY, THREE OF CLUBS.”

The screen displayed a motionless three of clubs card. The pianist's brows knit together in confusion. ”Three of clubs...?”

“RULE:”
“SELECT THE CORRECT DOOR WITHIN THE STIPULATED TIME.”

Shuichi blinked. “What?”

“CLEAR CONDITION: LEAVE THE BUILDING WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.”

As unsettling as it all was, the red elevator doors slid open, revealing a wall with the word “START” written across it. The trio exchanged worried glances, their eyes darting between the elevator and Kirumi. She stepped inside without a second thought. “You'll die if you keep spacing out,” she remarked flatly.

The schoolgirl glanced nervously at the trio before lowering her gaze to the floor. Without a word, she hurried over and stood beside the apron-clad woman.

“There’s no time,” Kaito muttered as he tucked the phone into his pocket as if sealing away his hesitation. Kaede sighed softly and followed, while Shuichi cast one last glance at the wall before stepping inside the elevator.

When the doors slid open again, the trio found themselves in a new room. The checkered-tiled floor and cold grey walls felt sterile, like the inside of a box too small for comfort. Facing them were two doors, each promising a different fate. One was labeled “DIE,” a skeleton grinning as if it knew the punchline to a cruel joke, while the other, “LIVE,” showed an angelic anime girl, her smile too sweet to trust.

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS TWO MINUTES.”

“Is this really a game?” The pianist scoffed as her eyes darted between the doors. “This is starting to get a little exciting.” With a curious grin, she started recording on her phone. “Now I'm sure this is some kind of event.”

Meanwhile, Kaito and Shuichi moved towards the “LIVE” door, examining it closely. Behind them, the schoolgirl let out a small whine. “I want to go home…”

Kaede shifted her phone to the girl, flashing her a warm (and maybe fake) smile. “It'll be fine. You're with us! We'll win the game, take the prize, and go home safe and sound.”

“The prize...?” the girl repeated with eyes wide as Kaito and Shuichi moved over to inspect the “DIE” door.

“ONE MINUTE REMAINING.”

“Shuichi,” Kaito blinked at the detective (in training). “Which do you think it is?”

“Well... If it's a choice between life and death…” He trailed off as his gaze bounced between the doors.

Kaede shook her head like a dog resisting a bath. “I wouldn't choose the one with the skeleton.”

Shuichi quickly turned to the more mature woman. “What if we choose the wrong door?”

“The answer is ‘Live,’” she answered without hesitation, “we should open the door that says “Live.’”

“How do you know that?” Shuichi's expression tightened, suspicion etching on his face as his eyes flickered from the angelic door back to her.

“Evidently, the appropriate option is the ‘Live’ door,” she said again, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As they stood there, a faint scent of smoke began to creep into the air. It was delicate at first, but noticeable enough to send a shiver down their spines.

Kaede wrinkled her nose at the scent. “Um, do you guys smell that...?” She kept her phone up, still recording.

Kaito’s eyes widened in alarm as he glanced downward. “Look!” Wisps of smoke began to slither up from the cracks in the floor, swiftly filling the room like a suffocating fog.

“THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

The maid coughed with a strained voice. “The answer is ‘Live’! We have to open the door now!”

“Do it yourself!” Kaito yelled back, his voice slightly muffled by his elbow as he tried to shield himself from the haze.

“What will happen when time runs out...?” the pianist asked with a trembling voice as she covered her mouth and lowered her phone slightly, anxiety carved on her face.

He shook his head vigorously. “We don’t have time! Hurry!”

Shuichi focused on the woman, extending his arms in a questioning gesture. “Why do you think that’s the answer? We can’t just choose to die, can we?”

“TWENTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

The schoolgirl, her nose pinched tightly between her fingers, cried out in a blend of impatience and fear, “I can't stand it anymore!”

With a surge of adrenaline, she rushed towards the LIVE door with her heart pounding like a war drum echoing in her ears.

Then, as if summoned by fate itself, a red laser slashed through the air, landing ominously on her head.

Pew!

In a heartbeat, her body fell to the ground, like puppet being cut loose from its strings. Smoke curled upward from the wound, mingling with the chilling sight of blood cascading from her eyes and mouth. The door–once a sign of salvation–shut with a slow, deliberate finality, the poster nearby transforming into a cruel reminder of her tragic end.

Such a young life extinguished, snuffed out like a candle.

Chapter 3: Three of clubs 1.2

Summary:

He once had a beautiful dream. A dream so beautiful that he forgot how ugly he was while staring at it.

Notes:

Chapter summary recited by Isolde from Reverse 1999 !!

________________________________

With a swift fall, she collapsed like an actor cut from the performance, her body lying still as the curtains drew closed. He stood frozen, thinking that it was all a game, a playful charade where no one would truly fall. The laughter faded, replaced by heavy silence, and the stage felt darker than ever.

He remembered the days when he wished for escape, dreaming of another world far from the monotony of his own. The reality he inhabited felt painfully dull, a canvas of gray. But this was no thrilling episode from his favorite TV show; it was actually reality.

“Did she just…die?” Kaede gasped, her eyes widening in shock, hands quaking as she fought to keep the phone steady, capturing the horror that unfolded before her.

“TEN SECONDS REMAINING.”

Kirumi quickly redirected her focus to the DIE door, gliding toward it with an eerie calm, opening it effortlessly and no laser poised to strike her. For a brief moment, they all stood there, hands pressed against their noses to shield themselves from the thickening smoke, caught in a collective pause as the countdown marched on.

“FIVE. FOUR. THREE.”

Kaede remained frozen, shock etched across her features, her mind struggling to process the horror they had just witnessed.

“Kaede! Quick!” Shuichi’s voice cut through the haze, yanking her back to reality.

“TWO. ONE.”

In a frantic rush, they all plunged through the DIE door just as the countdown hit zero. The instant they crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind them, sealing off the view of the fiery chaos they had narrowly escaped.

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS ONE MINUTE AND FIFTY SECONDS.”

“Th—that poor girl just died…!” The blonde gasped, wide-eyed, covering her mouth as if the image of the corpse had seared itself into her memory. She had once prided herself into handling blood and gore back then. But now that she actually witnessed it, she wasn't sure what to do.

Shuichi stepped forward, confronting the young girl in the apron dress with a stern intensity, his voice laced with accusation. “You were the one who killed that girl.”

She met his gaze calmly, her tone unruffled and matter-of-fact. “It was necessary for our survival. We are alive because of me.”

“What?!” Kaito exclaimed, disbelief and anger boiling within him. He stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re acting like what you did was entirely necessary!”

“Do we choose ‘Die’ here, too?” the bluenette muttered, her gaze fixed on the white screen of the phone as the seconds slipped away. “Since the last choice was ‘Die,’ the next one must be ‘Live.’”

Kaito nodded vigorously. “Yes, it can’t be ‘Die’ twice in a row. But it’s difficult to choose ‘Die.’”

“I see,” Kirumi mused, resting a hand under her chin as she contemplated. “This is surely a game designed for us to select a sacrifice within the time limit.”

“Sacrifice?”

“The doors likely hold no true significance; what matters is who dares to open them. They’re forcing us to choose one person within the time we have.”

“You sacrificed that girl just now,” Shuichi said, his eyes flicking from his phone to her with flat intensity. “Why don’t you open the door next?”

She met his gaze coolly. “I believe that if I am to survive, it must be for the greater good of all mankind.”

“Are you serious? Just because you think your survival is for the good of all mankind, you expect the rest of us to follow along?” Kaito shook his head vigorously, his voice rising like a storm gathering strength. “We’re talking about people’s lives here!”

“ONE MINUTE REMAINING.”

Shuichi stole a glance at Kaede, who sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching her phone as if it were a precious treasure, her breaths coming in shallow sips. “At this rate, no one will dare to open the door,” he murmured.

“Everyone’s going to die in the fire when the time runs out!” Kaito scowled

“Then why don’t you open it yourself?” Kirumi twitched her nose slightly, fixing her gaze on Shuichi as if sizing up a curious creature. “Why insist that someone else take the leap? Perhaps the task is better suited for your hands.”

As the countdown dwindled, the room filled once more with acrid smoke, swirling around them like a mischievous ghost. The pale tendrils drifted up from the floor’s crevices, and the stench grew stronger. “I’ll open it.”

“Shuichi!” Kaito hollered, panic threading through his voice as he watched the boy stride toward the LIVE door. But then, in a sudden twist, Shuichi cast a glance at the DIE door and veered toward it instead. “Stop, Shuichi! Don’t let her provoke you!”

He gripped the doorknob shakily, the texture cool and foreign against his palm.

“THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

“Shuichi!” Kaito’s voice rang out, filled with urgency, like a bell tolling in the distance. He could hear Kaito pleading for him to stop, yet his hand felt stuck, as if enchanted. Slowly, his knees gave way beneath him, and he sank to the floor, the doorknob slipping from his grasp like a dream fading away.

“As you can see, even you couldn’t open it,” she sighed, her tone dripping with condescension. “You, too, would have sacrificed that girl!”

“Shut the hell up!”

“TWENTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

“I’ll do it,” Kaito declared, hovering by the door like a ship caught in a heavy storm. “He’s got bad luck anyway.”

Shuichi yelled, “Kaito!”

“You’ll go after me,” Kaito glared at Kirumi, then turned his attention back to the door.

“TEN SECONDS REMAINING.”

“Kaito...” the bluenette murmured, still kneeling on the tiled floor. He watched as his friend took a deep breath, then grasped the doorknob and flung it open. “Kaito!”

To his surprise, no laser shot through his head.

“FIVE. FOUR. THREE.”

“K- Kaito...!” Kaede, who had been silent for what felt like an eternity, cried out as she rushed toward the DIE door, with Shuichi and Kirumi following close behind as the time dwindled.

“TWO. ONE.”

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS ONE MINUTE AND FORTY SECONDS.”

Shuichi gasped for breath, his voice shaky. “The time limit gets shorter each time…”

"I-I can't do this anymore...!" Kaede hunched over, fingers knotted in her hair like tangled threads.

“We’re taking turns,” the astronaut wannabe gasped, his voice sounding like a dying machine. He shot a glare at the other female. “You open the door next.” Firmly, he grabbed her wrist. “I’ll choose which door to open.” “Wait...!”

In a swift motion, he pushed her toward the LIVE door and shouted, “Open it!”

“No,” she replied simply, tilting her head in refusal.

Kaito took several deep breaths, his body still trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. He turned to Shuichi, who sat on the floor, trying to steady himself like a ship in choppy waters. “Hey, Shuichi. You’re the clever one in our group. Got any ideas?”

“...Ideas?”

“You always say there's a solution to every game, right?”

“This isn't a game.”

“You must know what to do!” Kaito urged, his voice rising. “You’ve always solved those puzzle games and cases from that show that I could never figure out. So do it!”

“This isn’t a game, Kaito,” Shuichi replied, shaking his head slowly, his expression heavy with despair. “It’s... all about luck now.”

“Think, Shuichi!” Kaito slid down to his level, kneeling sharply in front of him.

“ONE MINUTE REMAINING.”

“There might have been a hint somewhere,” Kaito suggested, trying to jog Shuichi’s memory. “First, we entered this building—”

“Stop it already!” the ashy-haired woman shouted, her back pressed firmly against the LIVE door.

“Then, the elevator took us—”

“I can’t do this...!” Shuichi felt the weight of panic rising as Kaito continued to press him for ideas. He usually relished solving puzzles and cracking cases from his favorite reality show, but this was different. This wasn’t a game or a mystery to unravel; it was a matter of life and death.

“Don’t give up, Shuichi! We can’t reset!”

“It's, It's impossible, I'm telling you...!”

“I'm telling you to think!" He faced him angrily. “I’ve been working my ass off, while you were just playing games and watching TV!”

Shuichi shook his head in disbelief. “What does that have to do with any of this?! You know how to... how to beat people up! What gives you the right to act so tough?!”

“Well, I'm sorry about that!” Kaito exclaimed, suddenly swinging his fist and landing a punch square on Shuichi’s face.

“Kaito, stop it!” Kaede pleaded, rushing closer to him, trying to restrain his arm.

Shuichi, on the floor, paused as something snapped. “Wait a minute…”

“THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

“BMW 523rd... It was a BMW 523rd.”

“So?” The violet-haired boy raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparkling in his eyes as he remained silent for a few moments, like a riddle waiting to be solved.

“...The answer is ‘Die.’”

The ashy-haired woman glanced at the DIE door, then back at Shuichi, her expression furrowing like a stormy sky. “How are you sure?”

“TEN SECONDS REMAINING.”

“...I’ll open the door,” His hand gripped the doorknob like it was a cold, twitching insect, with each breath coming out in unnerving, uneven puffs.

“Shuichi! Are you sure the answer is ‘Die’?”

He gritted his teeth and whispered, “Please…”

He gripped the doorknob tighter, feeling the cold metal beneath his palm, as if it were alive and trembling. With a swift motion, he slammed the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. No laser shot out to strike him down. “This, This means it's correct, right?!”

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS ONE MINUTE AND THIRTY SECONDS.”

Kaito groaned upon hitting the tiled floor harshly, he glanced upward at him with apprehension. “Do you know which it is now?”

“The length of a BMW 523rd is 4 meters and 94 centimeters,” Shuichi explained, his voice steady and confident. “As far as I remember, there was one parked outside. The length of this building is equivalent to four of those cars… Therefore, this building is approximately 20 meters long.”

He pressed his back against the concrete wall, a look of concentration on his face. “My feet are 28 centimeters long.” He took a step forward, aligning his toes with his heels. “One, two, three... It should be around six meters.”

Beads of sweat formed as he continued, his voice tinged with urgency. “According to the evacuation map, the elevator is at the corner of this building.” Shuichi remembered casting a fleeting look to the wall before heading inside the elevator earlier. He firmly remembered seeing the evacuation map. It featured multiple rooms, corridors, and clear exit paths marked by red arrows leading to green exit signs. The elevator ("EV") was located in the top left, while male and female restrooms are indicated in the center. A curved staircase was present on the bottom right, offering another route to other floors. The map also included symbols, such as red dots and arrows, likely representing fire safety equipment, and Japanese text provides additional evacuation instructions. That's what Shuichi remembered.

“The building's structure forms a perfect square, and so do these rooms,” he murmured as the others began to rise, still groggy. “If each side of the building measures 20 meters, and each room spans 6 square meters, then there can only be three rooms along one side.”

“ONE MINUTE REMAINING.”

“Is there somewhere I can write?” Shuichi asked, glancing around.

“Here you go,” both Kaede and Kirumi offered him the items he needed. He knelt down, his hands trembling slightly. “Inside a square building,” he began, sketching a square on the paper on the ground. “If each room is also square,” he continued, drawing two lines both vertically and horizontally, “this floor should contain nine rooms.”

Kaede gasped in realization. “It's just like a puzzle game!”

“We began in this room,” he said, tapping the bottom square on the left. He then drew an arrow pointing to the middle square. “The schoolgirl met her end here,” he added, indicating the space above the left square. “This is our next room. Thanks to Kaito, we pressed on.” The ink flows steadily across the paper. “That means the door on the right is off-limits.” He gestured to the top middle square. “Then, I opened the door to this room.”

“TWENTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

“By process of elimination, these two rooms are out of the question,” he declared, crossing off the center and bottom middle squares. “I’m certain of it.”

“TEN SECONDS REMAINING.”

With a burst of urgency, he stood and pointed emphatically. “The answer is ‘Die’! The ‘Live’ door is a trap!”

“FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE.”

The four of them sprinted toward the DIE door, narrowly escaping the flames that threatened to engulf them.

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS ONE MINUTE AND TWENTY SECONDS.”

Kaito, panting, flashed him a grin. “If your reasoning holds, we’ll make it out alive! You're incredible, Shuichi!”

“This game isn’t about luck! We can clear it together!” He chuckled, eyes fixed on the drawing. “According to my sketch, the next door is ‘Die’ too.” He lifted the paper and approached the door. “Are you ready?”

The aspiring astronaut nodded enthusiastically. “Ready!”

Shuichi pushed the door open, taking a leap of faith—a gamble grounded in careful calculations and deductions.

To their surprise and immense relief, no lasers erupted from the doorway.

“It worked!” Kaede exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy. A wide smile spread across her face as she reached out to give Shuichi an encouraging pat on the back. “Great thinking, Shuichi! You really pulled us through!”

Kaito sprang forward with a joyful cry, wrapping Shuichi and Kaede in a tight bear hug. His exuberance filled the room, his laughter echoing off the walls as he squeezed them both tightly.

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS ONE MINUTE AND TEN SECONDS.”

“What’s next?!” Kaito exclaimed.

Shuichi quickly scribbled on the paper, his finger pointing decisively at the lighter door. “It's ‘Live.’”

They pushed the door open, bracing for the worst, but once again, no lasers erupted. With a burst of laughter, Kaito seized Shuichi and Kaede in another tight group hug, his joy infectious. The bluenette chuckled, gently wriggling free from Kaito's grip. "Hey, hey, that hurts!" he teased, stepping back to rub his shoulders, a playful smile on his face. Kaito then turned to Kaede, his grin widening mischievously. Without warning, he scooped her up, spinning her around in a tight embrace, their laughter filling the air.

Shuichi watched the lively scene with amusement, but his expression quickly shifted to confusion as he took in the view ahead.

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS ONE MINUTE.”

Before them stood a solid concrete wall—no door in sight. Shuichi stepped back, his brows furrowing. “There’s no door in front.” Instead, he noted the doors were placed sideways: DIE to his left and LIVE to his right.

Kaede peeked over her shoulder, her smile bright and energetic. “What’s next?”

Kaito scratched his head, glancing at the walls. “Since the right door is off-limits, should we consider the outer wall?” He and Kaede, along with the unnamed lady, moved toward the DIE door. Suddenly, Shuichi shouted, causing them to halt.

“Wait!... I might have missed something.”

“FIFTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

The realization hit him: they were situated in the back-left corner of the building. The top-left section is shaded in translucent purple, indicating that was where they were. The clear condition was to leave the building. They're compelled to choose the DIE door, which leads them out. But if Shuichi recalls, there is no gap between that and the neighboring building. The LIVE door led them to the very spot where the schoolgirl had perished. Shuichi’s mind raced with questions. Why wasn’t there a door at the rear of the building? Surely, he must have overlooked something crucial. What could it be? He considered the rooms they had traversed—there was no room for any hidden tricks or surprises. If that were the case...

“There's no time to waste! We’ll all die!” Kirumi exclaimed, her voice tinged with panic. Kaito shot back, “You didn’t even open the door!” “You were the one who pushed it onto me!” “Give me a break!”

A light bulb lit over Shuichi's head. “A video!” He turned to Kaede, urgency painting his voice. “You recorded something in the first room, right?”

“We don’t have time for that!” Kirumi yelled out, shaking her head vehemently. But Kaede quickly opened her phone, fingers dancing across the screen in search of the crucial footage.

"THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING."

Shuichi focused, murmuring. “I might have overlooked something...some hidden thread.” He fast-forwarded, his heart racing like a drum. When he found the right moment, he zoomed in on the wall where the schoolgirl had met her fate. “There’s no door! The room she entered is a solid wall!”

“So what?” Kirumi shot back, her impatience flaring.

“This means…”

“TEN SECONDS REMAINING.”

The pen's tip touched the paper, and with a steady motion, it drew a diagonal line through one of the squares. The ink glided smoothly, leaving a thin, sharp stroke in its wake, cutting from one corner of the square to the other. He cried out, “the room that the girl died in isn't a square!”

Kaito hummed thoughtfully. “So, this door…”

Shuichi’s eyes lit up with a sudden spark, his finger lifting with all the certainty of one who had just solved a riddle, “Ah, there's another room behind it! Behind that door marked ‘LIVE,’ no less!”

“FOUR. THREE.”

Kaito dashed ahead without a second thought, Shuichi sprang in right after him, Kirumi followed with grace, and Kaede hurried closely behind, though not quite close enough. In that split moment, the fires sprang to life, and Kaede's leg was kissed by the flames just as she neared the threshold. With a startled cry, she stumbled, collapsing onto the ground beyond. “Ahh!!”

“THE TIME LIMIT FOR THIS ROOM IS TEN SECONDS.”

“Ten seconds?” The boy with violet hair shed his purple jacket in one swift motion, flapping it over the flames licking at Kaede’s leg. “Are you joking?”

“It’s not ‘Live’! It’s 'Die’!” Shuichi shouted, his voice urgent, as Kirumi reached for the door with its misleading, angelic glow. “Don’t fall for its trick!”

“FIVE. FOUR.”

“Hurry!” he urged, the words tumbling out as Kaito hoisted Kaede up, Kirumi following just before the fire could reach them. The four of them stumbled into the narrow, darkened corridor, breaths quickened. “Down the stairs!”

The stairway yawned before them, dimly lit and wrapped in an eerie silence, save for the clanging of their footsteps on the cold metal steps. Upon reaching the bottom, they all drew in sharp breaths, gasping for air as if emerging from a dream.

“GAME CLEAR.”
“CONGRATULATIONS, ULTIMATE DETECTIVE.”

The words flashed on the white screen of the phone he held, Kirumi sat down and panted out. “This achievement is entirely due to your efforts. Thank you.”

Kaede, however, let out a pained grimace, wincing as the adrenaline wore off and the pain began to unfurl. She couldn’t help but release low growls, each one a muted cry in a world gone wonderfully mad.

Kirumi noticed something strange ahead. There was a stark white table placed in front of them, its mere existence seemingly out of place in their surroundings. She raised a suspicious eyebrow and stepped closer to investigate.

A three of clubs playing card.

She picked the card up, staring at it with a mix of silence and skepticism, her eyes wide with wonder. The other three followed suit, their gazes drawn to the peculiar object as if it held the secrets of a forgotten realm.

“TO THE SURVIVORS OF THE GAME, A TRUTH BULLET WILL BE PROVIDED.”

The white screen illuminated, displaying three club symbols.

“ALL GAME SURVIVORS WILL RECEIVE A THREE PIECES OF TRUTH BULLETS.”

Shuichi creased his brows. “Truth bullet?”

Before they could consider its meaning, a weary figure approached from the alleyway. The man wore a black hat adorned with two blue tennis rackets, a black leather jacket, and a black-and-dark-blue striped jumpsuit that resembled a prison uniform.

Upon noticing the four, he spoke in a deep voice, “I’m going to... drop out of the game.” He lowered his hat with a heavy sigh. “You guys, there’s no end to this game, no matter how much you clear.”

“I don't have any truth bullets left.” Achilling smile spread across his face. “Finally... this is the end.” He nodded at them. “I still have a ways to go.”

And then—

Pew!

The silence was deafening as the four of them stood watching in stunned disbelief. The sudden appearance of the laser and the ensuing sound of the shot echoed through the alleyway.

Without warning, the entire area was plunged into total darkness once again. There was an eerie stillness in the air, the sudden absence of light making the surroundings feel even more ominous.

They slowly approached the corpse on the floor, the air thick with silence, save for Kaede's occasional grunts. Kirumi spoke softly, “When a new day dawns, you’ll die if you run out of Truth Bullets. Our Truth Bullets will run out too.”

Kaito huffed out. “Three more days.”

“If you don't want to die,” she said. “You’ll have to keep playing the games.”

Chapter 4: Five of Spades 2.1

Summary:

Could the next card reveal more than just a play? One can wonder.

________________________________

By dawn’s pale light, the group stepped into a city trapped in an uncanny hush. Digital clocks stood as silent sentinels, their usual flickering numbers extinguished. TVs, normally brimming with life, now gazed back with dark, empty eyes, and the IC chip devices hung limply in their pockets. It was as if the veins of the city had been drained, leaving behind an empty shell devoid of its lifeblood.

Shuichi sat beside Kaede in the furniture store, his presence was a quiet comfort as they waited. The room was cluttered with mismatched chairs, tables, and sofas. The silence between them stretched thin, broken only by the soft rustle as Kaede shifted her injured leg. It felt strange, he thought, how even in a place meant for rest, they could find no real comfort.

She grabbed one of the devices–a radio–that lay scattered across the sheets beside her. “These seem to work for some reason,” she muttered, adjusting the dials with a practiced hand. “Probably because they don’t have IC chips installed.”

“What does that mean?” He asked from the other bed.

“Maybe…”

*****

Without a second thought, they dashed forward, sprinting down the street as cars whizzed by on both sides. “Hurry up!” Shuichi urged, pushing Kaito ahead.

“Look, fireworks!”

They were so lost in the thrill of their chaotic escape that they barely registered Kaede's exclamation. Fireworks in the morning sky? They didn't have time to ponder the strange sight, too preoccupied with their wild dash to safety.

*****

It was utterly ridiculous, hiding in a bathroom stall from the police, but somehow, they made it work–at least for the moment. As they all tried to suppress their laughter, a sudden and rather comical event occurred. The lights in the bathroom went out, plunging them into complete darkness. A collective gasp echoed through the stall.

*****

“It could be… an electromagnetic pulse attack,” she mused, tapping her lips thoughtfully. “I’ve read about it online. When detonated in the stratosphere, it’s a weapon that can wipe out all electronics in an entire city.”

“Really?” Shuichi blinked, his surprise evident. She nodded, and his gaze fell to the phone he’d kept from the night before, still glowing softly. “So why is this still operating?”

She turned to him with a sullen sigh, shoulders slumping. “I wish I knew.”

He glanced back at the phone, its disgustingly bright screen glaring up at him.

“TRUTH BULLETS. SHUICHI SAIHARA, THE ULTIMATE DETECTIVE. REMAINING: 3 DAYS.”

Before he could process the words, the screen flickered, shifting to a dull loading icon that spun lazily for a moment, then blinked out entirely, leaving the device lifeless in his hand.

He still wondered what that 'Ultimate' part even meant. When he had asked Kirumi earlier, just before she left with Kaito, she simply shrugged and said she wasn’t sure either, guessing it was just some title given to the player.

“So it’s useless if we can’t charge it,” he mumbled, exhaling sharply as he placed the phone on a nearby desk, its once-bright screen now as dead as the city around them.

Meanwhile, Kirumi and Kaito moved through the same building, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty halls as they kept a watchful eye out for anything useful. Kaito’s gaze darted around, scanning the dimly lit surroundings, mentally cataloging anything that might come in handy. Kirumi, however, checked each room and storage compartment with the methodical care of someone who’d done this countless times before.

They stepped into a store that seemed to have what they needed. Kaito picked up a small but sturdy knife, testing its weight in his hand. “Alright! This’ll serve as a decent weapon.”

Kirumi glanced over, arching an eyebrow as she skimmed through the cooking appliances. “And what exactly are you planning to fight?” she asked politely.

“Man, I dunno, zombies?” he shrugged, grinning, but her amused chuckle made him pout a little. “You can't use electricity and gas either, right?”

“I’m certain the portable stove can still be used,” she replied with a nod. “Batteries might work as well, so we can manage with flashlights. Besides,” her eyes softened slightly, “it’s my duty as a maid to serve. Don’t you want to eat something warm?”

“Maid? Oh yeah, you mentioned you were the Ultimate Maid,” Kaito said, slipping the knife into his pocket. “Are you sure it’s just some fancy title? Maybe it's a sign or something?”

“It could certainly be seen that way,” she agreed, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps it reflects something about who you used to be before coming here.”

“Who I used to be? Huh…”

Later in the day, the four of them gathered in an empty restaurant, sharing a meal of canned tuna and other non-perishable food they’d scavenged. It wasn’t much, and the taste left a lot to be desired, but it was all they had. They ate in silence, the only sound filling the space being the soft clink of cutlery against their plates, echoing faintly in the hollow, abandoned room.

“May I ask, what were you three doing? When everyone disappeared, I mean.” Kirumi inquired, taking a measured spoonful of food into her mouth.

Shuichi nodded, swallowing before he answered, “We were in a restroom.”

Kaede quickly cleared her throat, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “The male restroom, to clarify... We were talking in the same stall.”

“I fear I don't really understand what's going on,” the maid admitted with a soft, resigned sigh.

“What about you?” Kaito turned to Kirumi, his curiosity piqued. “What were you doing when it happened?”

*****

Flashback to Kirumi in a kitchen, orchestrating a culinary symphony for an extravagant soirée in a resplendent mansion. As she wove together the ingredients, ensuring they pirouetted in delightful disarray, the lights sputtered and vanished, plunging her into a surreal void, as if the sun itself had decided to play hide-and-seek.

With a curious heart, she set down the ladle, its weight familiar and comforting, and stepped into the dim halls beyond the kitchen. What she encountered was an eerie calm, draping over the house like an old, dusty curtain. Room after room offered only silence, as if the lively chatter had slipped through a crack in reality.

*****

“I was in the kitchen of another's house, cooking for them,” she said, her words drifting through the silence. “When I left the kitchen, I couldn't find anyone at all.”

Shuichi leaned in. “Did you see or hear anything?”

“I don’t remember,” she replied, turning her head slowly. “I arrived here three days ago, and I was thrust into a game. I was the only survivor; everyone else perished.”

“...What was the game?”

“I was at a subway station where a game involving poison gas was taking place. The gas caused everyone to vomit blood, and blood even flowed from their eyes.”

He placed the can of soda on the table with a soft thud. “Isn't it strange?” he mused. “When everyone vanished from this world, it was yesterday for the three of us, right?”

“Yes,” she affirmed.

“But for Kirumi, it was three days ago. Why the difference in time?”

“You're right,” Kaito said, lifting his head and nodding with a mix of agreement and skepticism. “And even the vegetables were rotten.”

“Yeah, it’s only been a few days since everyone disappeared. What could be the reason...?”

Kirumi rested her hand under her chin, lost in thought. “Perhaps time passes differently here?”

“What?” He responded, puzzled.

“I'm not really sure,” she continued, “but even among us, the times when people disappeared are different, right?”

“Could we have time-traveled while we were in the restroom...? It sounds ridiculous, but still…” Kaede shook her (good) leg anxiously.

“That's impossible,” the aspiring astronaut dismissed, scrunching his nose slightly.

“But it's also impossible for people to just vanish.”

“Time travel is impossible.”

“How do you explain the game and the disappearances?”

“Don't ask me that.”

“In any case,” Shuichi interjected, pulling out the three of clubs card they found last night, “one thing we know for sure about this game is that there’s a game master. You know, a mastermind.”

Kaito arched an eyebrow, “A game master?”

“Someone designed this game,” he said, placing the card on the table with a serious expression. “I’m certain of that.”

“While we were in the restroom, did they move everyone in Tokyo away... and set up for this game?” Kaito theorized, as Shuichi continued, “then they tracked our movements, too.”

*****

“I don't have any Truth Bullets left.” A chilling smile spread across his face. “Finally... this is the end.” He nodded at them. “I still have a ways to go.”

And then—

Pew!

The silence was deafening as the four of them stood watching in stunned disbelief. The sudden appearance of the laser and the ensuing sound of the shot echoed through the alleyway.

*****

Kaito tapped his finger on the wooden table, each tap mimicking the ticking of a clock. “Can a human really do that? But who could be behind it?”

“Could it be...the federal or state government or something?” the blonde pondered, tilting her head slightly.

“I’ve heard some rumors from my clients,” Kirumi began, her voice steady as a metronome. “An IT corporation from Europe wants to conduct an experiment to create a world in VR that is completely identical to the real one.”

“But shouldn't we be able to distinguish VR from the real world?” Kaito scratched his cheek, a frown creasing his brow. He recalled a time he had tried a VR set related to space; it felt incredibly realistic, yet he could still clearly differentiate between the virtual and the tangible.

Kaede glanced down at her bandaged leg. “It really hurts... I don’t think VR can cause burns like that…”

“Is your injury getting worse, Kaede?” Kirumi’s nurturing instincts sprang to life as she turned her head toward her. “I could try to heal it again, but unfortunately, I'm not sure how to treat a burn like that.”

“It’s going to be fine, thank you, Kirumi…”

Later that night, Kaito and Shuichi stood side by side on an indoor balcony, their eyes sweeping over the quiet, empty expanse of the mall below. Shuichi leaned against the railing, his gaze wandering over the deserted stores and the still escalators. “I think Kaede needs to see a doctor. Kirumi is doing well, but maybe it's best if we find a professional.”

“Shuichi,” Kaito huffed out, “let’s join the game tomorrow night, just the two of us.”

“What? But we still have three days left on our visas.”

“It's better to get used to the game while we still have time to spare,” he said, leaning sideways on the railing to face Shuichi. “We’ll probably have to beat the next game with Kaede's injured leg... If we don't learn how to clear the games with just the two of us, we won't be able to protect her.”

”You’re right, but…”

“And we can search for a doctor too," he quickly added, ”it’s easier to meet people in games, right?”

”...But, do we have to do that again?”

“There might be a hint as to what the game is about!” He exclaimed, his enthusiasm bubbling like a pot of writhing maggots.

Shuichi let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess... If we join the game, we might be able to uncover their signature.”

“Signature?”

“If someone actually created this game, we'll definitely be able to discern their characteristics through the challenges,” Shuichi affirmed with a nod. “If we can discover that, we might develop a strategy to tackle the game.”

Chapter 5: Five of Spades 2.2

Summary:

Are we really going with the "Return to the Scene of the Crime" plot now? Spare me the cliché, please...

Notes:

Chapter summary is recited by Horropedia from Reverse 1999 !! I only changed it a bit, though.

[Apr. 29 2025, EDIT]: I tried editing the name list to make it less shorter and easy to scroll through, but I don't really know how do I'll just leave it like that🙏.

________________________________

The night had descended once again, enveloping the city in a shroud of darkness. The L-shaped apartment building jutted into the skyline, its unique silhouette standing out among the towering structures that loomed nearby.

A young woman with fair skin and extraordinarily long, dark brown hair cascading into two low twintails made her way up the staircase. Her uniform was a striking red seifuku with black sleeve cuffs that contrasted sharply against the deepening night. She wore a short, pleated black plaid skirt, and beneath it, red yoga shorts that extended just below her knees. Completing her outfit were sleek black shoes, perfect for a quick escape if necessary.

As she reached the entrance to the game arena, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed above, she surveyed the crowd with a penetrating gaze.

”ONE PER PERSON.”

With practiced ease, she selected one phone from the rack.

“FACIAL RECOGNITION IN PROCESS.”
“PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT.”

“WELCOME, ULTIMATE ASSASSIN.”

“THERE ARE CURRENTLY 10 PARTICIPANTS.”
“PLEASE WAIT UNTIL THE GAME COMMENCES.”
“ONE MINUTE UNTIL REGISTRATION CLOSES.”

Letting out a weary sigh, she leaned against the wall, her mind racing with strategies and possibilities. Just as she settled in, a tap on her shoulder jolted her from her thoughts, the touch of a newcomer breaking the tension of the moment.

“Excuse me,” He had spiky, desaturated brown hair with a prominent ahoge and washed-out hazel eyes. He had black jeans, a zipped-up dull green hoodie, an open black jacket with gold buttons, and red sneakers with white toes. “Where did all the people in Tokyo go?”

The female assassin merely glanced at him. She didn’t bother to respond as another figure slipped between them, drawing her attention away. Black hair, purple eyes, a uniform consisting of a brown tie, white button-down blouse, brown pleated skirt, black stockings, and black shoes. She looks inexperienced and new, but she's not.

The spikey-haired boy leaned the phone he took to the assassin, "This thing—" only to be interrupted, again, as two people approached between them.

“Huh, that’s a lot of people,” Kaito remarked, stepping confidently toward the entrance, Shuichi at his side. His eyes scanned the crowd as he added, “I wonder if there’s a doctor here.”

The assassin let out a quiet scoff, watching as the two brushed past her without a second glance. She turned away, distancing herself from their banter and the newcomer’s probing questions.

Once Shuichi and Kaito reached the white table, they each grabbed a phone, the cool plastic feeling foreign in their hands. Shuichi took a moment to take in the scene, observing the participants gathered for the game. His gaze fell on a figure lingering in the corner, shrouded in a white hood that obscured most of his features. Only the tips of his blackish-purple hair peeked out from under the hood, visible just above the shadow of his bangs.

”REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED.”
"THERE ARE A TOTAL OF 13 PARTICIPANTS."

***

- Harue Adachi, Ultimate Librarian

- Ryuichi Mineo, Ultimate Fry Cook

- Kagemori Naozumi, Ultimate Crossing Guard

- Ikuyo Nakamura, Ultimate Ballerina

- Ikumi Nakamura, Ultimate Cheerleader

- Kokichi Ouma, Ultimate Supreme Leader

- Otohiko Rikichi, Ultimate Dog Trainer

- Akitsugu Hagamori, Ultimate Bartender

- Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Luck

- Maki Harukawa, Ultimate Assassin

- Mukuro Ikusoba, Ultimate Soldier

- Shuichi Saihara, Ultimate Detective

- Kaito Momota, Ultimate Astronaut

***

“THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

“Excuse me,” the spikey-haired newcomer tapped Shuichi's shoulder. “Just what is this? I ended up here and...I have no idea what's going on.”

Shuichi quickly answered, “It's a game.”

“Stop it,” Kaito whispered to him as he leaned closer to his ear. “Beginners will only get in our way. It doesn't feel great, but it might be a good idea to act like Kirumi did.”

“DIFFICULTY, FIVE OF SPADES.”

The twintailed brunette lowered herself to the ground, her movements deliberate as she began to stretch out her legs, easing into each motion with the familiarity of someone who'd done this countless times before. Meanwhile, Shuichi stood nearby with his eyes narrowed. He repeated what was on the screen, almost questioning, “Five of spades?”

“It’s a physical game,” an energetic blond suddenly appeared beside Kaito, seemingly out of nowhere. A confident grin spread across his face as he nodded, extending his hand. “Strength is everything here. Name’s Akitsugu Hagamori,” he introduced himself with a slight bow, his voice carrying an air of pride. “Labeled the Ultimate Bartender. Nice to meet you.”

Shuichi flickered his eyes, “Each mark has a meaning?”

“Exactly!” Akitsugu shook Shuichi's hand excitedly. “The mark on a trump card signifies the game's genre,” he began to list off. “Club is team-based, and Diamond refers to intellectual games. As for Heart...it's the most troublesome one of all.”

‘“Troublesome?’”

“It's a game of betrayal where you play with people's hearts.”

”And the titles...?”

”I don't have much info about it yet. But I'm sure it has something to do with what you were like before all this.”

“...What about the numbers?”

“The difficulty level,” the bartender said, leaning casually against the wall with a grin. “The larger the number, the harder it is to clear.”

“GAME, ‘TAG.’”

“RULE:”
“RUN AWAY FROM THE TAGGER.”

“A game of tag?” the detective-in-training parroted, leaning slightly toward Kaito. “Who’s the tagger?”

“How should I know?” He replied, shrugging.

“CLEAR CONDITION:”DISCOVER THE SAVE ZONE, HIDDEN IN ONE OF THE BUILDING ROOMS WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.”
“YOU CLEAR THE GAME WHEN THIS OBJECTIVE IS FULFILLED.”

“TIME LIMIT, 20 MINUTES.”

“AFTER 20 MINUTES HAS PASSED, THE TIME BOMB HIDDEN IN THE BUILDING WILL EXPLODE.”
“THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE. THE TIME LIMIT IS 20 MINUTES. GAME START.”

“THE TAGGER IS ON THE MOVE.”

“We should look for an unlocked door.” Shuichi instructed as Kaito stood to his side, and Akitsugu trailed behind them like a lost puppy with a grin. After Shuichi approached the next door and discovered it was locked, Kaito grumbled, “We won’t make it if we dawdle like this!” Meanwhile, other participants on different floors were also trying to check their doors, some fumbling like desperate insects trapped in a sticky web, their movements frantic and futile.

"THREE MINUTES HAS PASSED."

As the three made their way to the next flight of stairs, a series of gunshots echoed through the air, sharp and jarring. The main duo exchanged nervous glances, their expressions twisting like pretzels in a pressure cooker. Cautiously, Kaito took the lead, moving slowly toward the staircase, each step as careful as a cat tiptoeing through a field of broken glass.

Thud!

A guy with big circled blood on his shirt fell on the upper staircase and landed harshly against the wall, causing Kaito to jerk back quickly as Shuichi flinched from behind him, he was discreetly reminded of that poor schoolgirl from last game.

”He's dead,” Akitsugu mused.

The two had nothing to say to that; instead, they carefully peered around the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of this elusive tagger. Was it a robot? A deadly laser like before? Or perhaps a human?

Shuichi's eyes widened in horror as the tagger came into view, slowly raising the gun in their hand and aiming directly at him. Just in time, Kaito yanked him back, narrowly avoiding the bullets that whizzed past. “Shuichi!” he shouted, urgency lacing his voice. Their shoes slapped against each step, barely touching the ground before they were propelled forward again down the stairs, like frantic cards being shuffled in a desperate game. “Hurry up!” “Quick!” “Run!”

As they reached the second floor down, Shuichi suddenly stopped Kaito from descending the next set of stairs. “Kaito, wait!”

They paused for a moment, watching as Akitsugu dashed down the stairs in a frenzy, his movements wild and frantic like a joker trying to escape a losing hand. The detective then grabbed Kaito, dragging him into a narrow hallway and shoving him against the wall. He pushed him into a small corner, quickly following him in and covering his mouth with a shaky hand.

Kaito’s back pressed against the unforgiving surface of the wall, trapped like a rat in a cage, squeezed into the tight corner with Shuichi. The tension in the air felt suffocating, stretching time until the sound of footsteps finally faded away.

 

*****

 

Meanwhile, in their base, the pianist sat in a chair, her bandaged leg propped up on a footstool like a wounded bird with a shattered wing. Kirumi hovered over her, tending to her injury, applying a fresh layer of ointment and securing a new bandage.

Kaede winced slightly as the cool ointment made contact with her burned leg, like ice meeting a freshly seared wound on a butcher's block. Kirumi noticed her discomfort and apologized. “I’m sorry. This may sting a bit.”

“It’s alright,” she managed a small smile, shaking her head. “I can handle it.”

The maid continued her work, her hands moving deftly and carefully to wind a fresh layer of bandage around Kaede's leg, as if wrapping a delicate porcelain doll in protective layers of cotton. Once she finished, she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork, “There. That should hold up for now.” She reached over to adjust the footstool, positioning it so that Kaede's injured leg was elevated.

The blonde shifted slightly in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position for her leg, which felt like a lead weight tethered to her by a strand of agony. (See what I did there?). She glanced up at her caretaker, who was now tidying up the supplies used, her movements precise and methodical. “Thanks for taking such good care of me, Kirumi.”

The maid paused for a moment, then bowed lightly. “It’s no problem at all, Kaede. I'm happy to help.”

“Do you think Shuichi and Kaito will come back...?” She asked, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her skirt, a nervous habit that felt like a drowning fish thrashing for air, as she watched Kirumi place the ointment and bandages back in their designated spot.

“Yes, I have faith in both of them,” Kirumi nodded, her hands folded in her lap. “Shuichi is incredibly intelligent and has proven himself to be resourceful. And Kaito is strong, both physically and mentally. They work well together, and they're determined to survive and I'm sure they will return to us safely.”

“You're right. They have their strengths and have survived their own messes. Still, it’s hard not to worry when they’re out there risking their lives like it's a joke…” She looked down at her bandaged leg, a small sigh escaping her lips.

She leaned forward and rested a hand soothingly on Kaede's good leg. “I understand your worry, Kaede. It's only natural to feel anxious in this kind of situation. But fretting won't help them. Believing in them and supporting them from here is the best we can do right now.”

“Yeah... I just need to trust them and hope for the best.” She gave a small smile, feeling like she had finally found the perfect parental figure. “Thank you, Kirumi. You always know just what to say.”

As they continued their conversation, the maid noticed how antsy and uncomfortable the pianist was, shifting around in her seat like a caged bird desperate to escape. Realizing she needed some distraction, she decided to show her something she was sure she would be happy with.

“I have something to show you... Follow me.” She helped Kaede to her feet, making sure she was steady on her good leg, and led her away from their temporary base.

They walked through the desolate mall, and eventually, they reached a large space that looked like a former shopping area. And in the center of this open area, there stood a grand piano, a relic of better days. Even in its abandoned state, it was still a sight to behold - gleaming ebony wood and shining ivory keys calling out to be played.

“I thought this might cheer you up a bit. I found it while I was with Kaito earlier.” She turned to look at Kaede, who was staring awestruck at the instrument, her face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

Kaede practically hobbled over to the stool in front of the grand piano, her excitement barely contained, like a storm cloud ready to burst. She gingerly sat down, wincing slightly as the stool pressed against her injured leg. But she didn’t quite care. The piano drew her in, offering a place to escape, even if she wrote emo and misanthropic music with it.

The first few notes flowed out of her fingers, shaky and hesitant at first, but gradually gaining confidence as she continued. Her eyes were closed as she lost herself in the music, her entire being focusing on the sound of the keys beneath her fingers and the emotions they brought out.

For once, she felt like a different person. One who didn't hate the world and the cruel people who lived in it. The recent chaos weighed on her. Witnessing death and narrowly missing death was like standing in a room filled with rotting flowers. It made her rethink everything. She had always wrapped herself in bitterness, like a shroud clinging to a corpse. But now, the memory of that loss gnawed at her, a rat in a dark corner, forcing her to confront how fragile life really was.

 

*****

 

Akitsugu barreled down the staircase, limbs flailing like twisted roots yanked from the earth, leaving Shuichi and Kaito behind. He charged towards the lowest floor, hurtling through the corridor as if the walls bled around him. The tagger with the horse head mask lurched into view, its plastic eyes staring blankly. But before Akitsugu could react, the tagger's gun fired, the bullets tearing through him with a sickening force.

The bartender's lifeless body thudded to the floor at the fry cook's feet, like a discarded rag doll tossed aside. The old man's hands trembled violently around the doorknob, his breath hitching in his throat. ”This is impossible...!” He stammered, retreating a few steps as if the walls were closing in. ”Th- This is crazy! I can't do this!”

In a blind panic, the cowardly fry cook rushed toward the exit stairway, desperate for escape. But as he stumbled through the barrier of crimson, a sharp crack split the air, and a laser tore through his head. His body went limp, falling backward down the stairs, lifeless and rolling.

I suppose that's three participants out. Back with the main duo, they abruptly spun each doorknob they could find in the same hallway they found themselves in. Meanwhile, on the floor below, two young girls–the Ultimate Ballerina and Ultimate Cheerleader–were fleeing from the relentless tagger.

”Hurry up, Ikumi!” The ballerina shouted, her movements fluid yet frantic as she urged her twin, who lagged behind.

But just then, the cheerleader stumbled on her toes, and the ballerina spun around, her last word a choked cry of her sister's name. Bullets went through her chest, and she collapsed like a fallen star.

”Ikuyo...!” Ikumi screamed, her heart shattering as she turned to face the tagger, who was methodically reloading their gun. In a moment of defiance, she threw her shoe at the assailant, a weak attempt to ward off death. ”I’ll fucking kill you! Don’t come any closer!”

Tragically, her bravado was in vain; she took fell to the victim to the tagger's cruel aim. A few floors above, Kaito and Shuichi watched in horror, their eyes wide as the scene unfolded below. Shuichi gasped softly, and Kaito looked at him, dread creeping his voice. ”What do we do, Shuichi? Can you think of anything?”

”We can't clear this game with something like that...” He said, narrowing his eyes in deep thought. ”Just think, Shuichi!” ”Then you think of something...!”

Just then, the tagger's horse head swung toward them, and they dove to the floor with their hearts racing like caged animals. Shuichi half-expected bullets to tear through the wall behind them, but instead, there was only silence. With bated breath, the tagger spun around, the mask's hollow eyes searching but finding nothing.

”The tagger didn't see us,” Shuichi breathed, the realization washing over him like cold water. ”His field of vision is narrowed because of his mask!” His eyes widened, and a grin broke across his face. ”That’s his weak point! That could be the key...” All of a sudden, he bolted down the hallway, and started shouting loudly. ”Everyone!” He hoped someone would catch his frantic call. ”The tagger is currently at the second level of the central area!”

”What are you doing!? Stop it, you’ll get killed!” Kaito yelled, trailing closely behind him.

”The tagger has terrible vision because of his mask!” Shuichi pressed on. ”We need to communicate the tagger's location to each other and search for the safe zone together!”

Somewhere on the highest floor, the guy in the white hood lounged against the cold concrete fence, a sinister smirk curling on his lips. ”Nishishi... It's a clever idea, but no one will respond,” he sneered, mockingly sighing as he rested his chin on his palm.

A couple of floors below him, on the opposite side, the two-tailed brunette from earlier found herself facing yet another locked door. Her gaze dropped, and she spotted the tagger poised to ascend the stairs. ”The tagger is moving from the fourth level of the central area! Anyone nearby, run!”

With that warning, she sprinted forward, realizing she was on the same floor. Ahead of her, she saw a middle-aged woman. ”Quick, run away!” she urged, gesturing frantically for the woman to flee, but the woman merely tilted her head in confusion. ”What?”

The brunette spun around sharply, her hair whipping through the air as the tagger came into view behind her. Frustration etched on her face, she glanced back at the bewildered lady, furrowing her brow. ”I’ve done what I can. You should've run when you had the chance.”

Without another word, she leaped onto the concrete fence, vaulting off toward a nearby pole as the old librarian fell to the ground, shot down without mercy. The brunette climbed higher, deftly dodging the tagger’s bullets as she hopped from fence to floor with effortless grace.

Meanwhile, the figure observing from the highest floor tilted his head, intrigue sparking in his eyes. ”A climber, huh? She’s pretty good. That’s neat.”

”EIGHT MINUTES UNTIL THE GAME ENDS.”
”THERE ARE CURRENTLY SEVEN SURVIVORS.”

The spikey-haired boy was about to open a door, only to receive sudden bullets hit the wall as he promptly ducked down. Kaito covered his head and Shuichi looked up since they were nearby, he found the tagger a few levels up shooting from a far distance.

The two of them deliberately hunkered down and gazed ahead to see the inexperienced fellow clutching his head as the bullets continued echo harshly.

”Psst! Hey...!” Kaito called, cupping his hands around his mouth, desperation threading through his voice. ”Hey you! Over here! Hey!”

But he remained frozen, paralyzed by dread, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Shuichi glanced back at the tagger, then tucked his phone into his pocket. Before Kaito could voice his objections, Shuichi began crawling toward the terrified boy, flinching with each gunshot that echoed like thunder in the cramped space.

”D- don't just sit there, move!” He urged, patting the boy’s shoulder as if trying to shake him from a waking nightmare. With a final tug, he yanked him to safety.

Meanwhile, the supreme leader in white flicked his gaze to his phone, the countdown glaring at him like a hungering beast with only six and a half minutes left before it devoured them all. With a deep sigh that felt like inhaling smoke from a funeral pyre, he slithered away from his hiding spot. ”Time to make my presence known.”

Chapter 6: Five of Spades 2.3

Summary:

He flashed him a grin that would have charmed a saint, or at the very least, made a devil blush.

________________________________

Shuichi, Kaito, and the unfortunate student surged down the desolate hallway, their paths briefly splitting when Kaito abruptly halted and shoved Shuichi toward the stairs. ”You go first!” he insisted, drawing the knife he'd unearthed alongside Kirumi with determination dancing in his eyes. ”Let’s take the tagger out.”

”What?! Kaito, we're up against a machine gun!”

”No, that's a human,” a new voice cut in, smooth yet laced with an edge. It came from a black-haired girl in a plain, unadorned uniform. “The tagger stands at 190 centimeters, weighs about 90 kilograms, and clearly favors his right hand. His marksmanship is crude and nothing refined. My guess is that he’s a former SDF operative or a policeman, someone who’s handled a weapon before but never trained to perfection.”

”I got it.” Another figure emerged from behind the blunt female, tossing her an extinguisher with a flick of his wrist.

The female soldier handed Kaito the red extinguisher as casually as if it were a toy. ”Take this.” When he merely gawked at her, she stepped down the stairs, forcing the extinguisher into his grip. ”Let’s go hunt down the tagger.” She fixed an intense gaze on Shuichi, nodding sharply. ”You go find the safe zone.”

”What?” Kaito scowled at her, indignation flashing in his eyes. ”Hey! Don’t give us orders!"

With no time to spare, Shuichi affirmed with a nod. ”I’ll search from the top.” ”Shuichi! Don't do that!” Kaito's hand shot out, grasping his wrist with a grip that bit into his skin. Shuichi shook his head, swallowing down the knot in his throat. ”We don't have any other choice.”

”I checked the 5th on the south block and the 6th floor on the east and south blocks.” Another voice cut through, cold and detached, as if the words themselves carried a chill. Maki crouched on the edge of the concrete floor, balancing with a casualness that defied the drop below. She didn’t even flinch, eyes focused ahead as if the sheer height meant nothing. ”Let’s split up and search for the safezone.”

”Uh, I haven't checked the first and second floors.” Shuichi stammered, feeling like a fish out of water.

”Got it. I’ll take care of that.” She nodded, then leaped down a floor, gripping the edge of the fence like a bat clinging to a rotting branch.

Shuichi and Kaito exchanged glances as the soldier murmured, ”It’s time to snuff out the tagger.”

”FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.”

As the soldier and the crossing guard creaked down the stairs like rusty machinery, the main duo paused for a moment. Kaito fixed Shuichi with a gaze as fierce as a wolf's, saying, ”Don’t die on me, Shuichi. Kaede needs us. I hope to see you later.”

”Okay.” He watched as Kaito descended down the stairs, then exhaled like a deflating balloon. shadows, then exhaled like a deflating balloon. Alone now, Shuichi sprinted up the stairs to the seventh level.

Kaito, on the other hand, drifted behind the black-haired soldier like a shadow, while the crossing guard led them through the dimly lit corridor. They both gripped extinguishers. ”He wields a MAC-10,” she stated with the coldness of metal, ”and empties his 32-round clip in 1.5 seconds.” Her eyelids sank like curtains drawn over a stage, ”We’ll strike when he's busy feeding it more bullets.”

”...Aren’t you a little too young to know this stuff?” He mumbled, earning a glare sharp enough to pierce bone. He quickly waved his hands like a startled bird. ”I don't mean to judge! It's just that you’re wearing a uniform, so I thought you were younger than I am is all...”

She glowered, her eyes as cold as chipped glass. ”I am Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier. I don't like being underestimated, so please don't. Thanks.”

Kaito had nothing to add, his lips pressed thin as paper. He nodded, moving to the side to begin their plan against the tagger. The crossing guard, who seemed more like Mukuro’s shadow, descended to join her. She gave him nothing but a stare, her eyes blank as empty sockets, before crouching down into her hiding spot.

”I’m over here!” Kagemori, the crossing guard, hollered, his voice cracking like shattered glass as he tried to lure the tagger. As the figure loomed into view, he stepped back with a grin that spread like an oil slick. ”Just come at me. I dare you!”

When he stood face-to-face with the tagger, his grin melted like wax, his eyes darting toward the soldier. ”Mukuro?” The tagger lifted its gun with a weighty, mechanical slowness. ”Mukuro? Mukuro!” The crossing guard yelled one last time before turning to flee, only to be brought down by a hail of bullets.

”You just let him die...?” The violet haired boy muttered, gripping the extinguisher like a last hope as the tagger fired bullets into the crossing guard’s lifeless body, each shot a funeral bell rolling in the air. When the tagger's plastic eyes locked onto him, Kaito raised the red object.

Before the tagger could snuff out his life, Mukuro blasted the extinguisher from behind, the foam exploding like a ghostly apparition. The tagger flailed their arms wildly, shooting at nothing, while Mukuro ducked to avoid the bullets, and Kaito followed suit.

The tagger clicked the trigger again, the sound echoing like a death knell. Reaching into their pocket to reload, Kaito shouted and swung the extinguisher at their head. The impact sent the tagger crashing into the wall, but they stayed on their feet, dazed but not defeated. Kaito blinked in disbelief before a brutal kick from them knocked the wind of his lungs, leaving him gasping.

Mukuro charged at the tagger like a bull seeing red. They fought fiercely, but soon she was thrown to the floor with a loud thud, taking a kick to the face from the powerful horse head.

Kaito lunged behind the tagger, wrapping his arms around their neck like a rogue vine, pulling out his small knife to stab at their shoulder. But his success was short-lived; he was hurled against the wall violently. Suddenly, the tagger pulled out a larger knife from their coat, the blade gleaming ominously. Kaito stood up, alert and ready, narrowly dodging a series of stabbing strikes that sliced through the air. His breath hitched as the blade came dangerously close to his waist, the edge biting his skin like a rat's teeth, blood that dripped like ink on a blank page.

Hearing him groan, she sprang up and kicked the tagger hard in the side, sending them crashing to the ground. Kaito dropped beside her, groaning in pain as he clutched his bloody side.

As the fight raged on, Shuichi floundered in his search for a safe zone. He rattled one door after another, each locked entrance a mocking laugh in his face. Desperation clawed at him as he gripped a doorknob, hunching down like a hunted animal. ”Think...” Shuichi muttered, straightening up and leaning against the fence, his eyes darting around in a panic as his fingers fidgeted nervously. Then, he spotted the door from which he had saved that person earlier; a door riddled with bullet holes. ”Why did he shoot from such a long distance...?” His breath hitched as realization struck him, and he rushed down to the door's level, encountering another figure, this time shorter than himself.

”So you realized that too?” The purple-haired boy, Kokichi Oma, approached with a smug grin so disarming it could sway even the purest of hearts, leaving even the wicked feeling flustered, his hands tucked inside his white jacket.

”...Yes. The safe zone is in this apartment.” Shuichi stepped forward, grasping the doorknob tightly, vivid flashbacks flooding his mind.

Kokichi glanced from the doorknob to Shuichi. ”Aren’t you gonna open it?”

”Why did the tagger chase us?” He asked suddenly. ”They could have just waited here.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, pulling out his phone to illuminate the screen. ”Seems like there's still a lot of mysteries we don’t know. But if you don't open it...”

“THREE MINUTES UNTIL THE GAME CONCLUDES”

Cautiously, Shuichi opened the door. It creaked wide, revealing a dark room with white walls that felt like the blank stare of a ghost. Little did they know... Shuichi’s instincts prickled at the back of his neck. “Look out!” he shouted, pushing Kokichi aside as a bullet zipped past them, sharp and angry like a wasp.

Kokichi reacted quickly, drawing his taser and zapped the figure that emerged–another tagger with a horse head. “You know, I used to have those in my room. The horse heads, I mean.” His smile was a twisted crescent, but Shuichi’s focus was locked on the taser. He chuckled darkly, “Nishishi... It never hurts to be prepared—”

Pap! Pap! Pap! Pap! Pap!

They ducked down, moving like shadows, barely escaping the barrage of bullets that peppered the floor like angry raindrops. Shuichi sprinted toward the inner door of the apartment while Kokichi bolted out, slamming the door shut behind them with a resounding thud.

The bluenette made it inside and quickly shut the door, locking it with a click that echoed like a heartbeat. Suddenly, the room transformed from a dark void into a blinding glare as artificial lights flickered on, illuminating a floor patterned like a chessboard, waiting for the next move. A few items stood out in the cramped space: two red buttons positioned high on opposite walls and a massive window looming at the front. Shuichi frowned at the sign that hovered in his mind:

”PUSH BOTH BUTTONS AT ONCE TO CLEAR THE GAME.”

He threw open the window, flailing his arms like a frantic windmill. ”Someone please come over! The safe zone is Apartment 553! It’s impossible to clear the game alone! We need two people to win!”

Kokichi, still propped against the door, let out a snort. ”Seriously?”

Shuichi jolted as the doorknob clattered to the tiled floor behind him. The door banged open, revealing the second tagger, who entered ominously.

”TIME REMAINING, ONE MINUTE.”

The second tagger raised their arm, gun in hand, and began firing. Shuichi instinctively ducked, propelling himself forward and pinning the tagger against the wall, desperately trying to wrest the weapon from their grip.

Kokichi leaned in from outside the door, peeking in nonchalantly since Shuichi had called for help. He quickly withdrew from view as the tagger started pulling the trigger, their arm thrashing like a fish out of water.

TIME REMAINING, THIRTY SECONDS.”

On her way, the athletic assassin, Maki, spotted a bright open window on the wall. She grasped the sill firmly and swung herself toward the next window, which was slightly higher up. With a powerful push, she propelled herself forward, landing deftly on the ledge.

”TWENTY SECONDS.”

Shortly, the brunette arrived, landing smoothly next to him. ”You called?” she asked, hopping down from the larger window left open by the detective.

”TEN SECONDS.”

Shuichi gasped, gripping the second tagger's right arm, which felt like a coiled snake. They raised it, aiming to shoot down Maki. She rolled to the side, easily dodging the bullets that whizzed past her.

”Psst. Hey!” Kokichi yelled from behind the door, brandishing his taser like a lucky charm. Then, he tossed it in her direction. Maki snatched the taser from the air, her fingers closing around it with lethal intent. With a quick jab, she drove it into the second tagger's ankle, releasing a jolt of electricity. They flinched, collapsing to the floor like a broken clock, thrashing their limbs around.

”FIVE. FOUR.”

Shuichi pointed at the red buttons, ”The buttons!”

”THREE.”

The two of them immediately stood up.

”TWO.”

And threw themselves to each button then slammed their hands sharply against the plastic.

”ONE.”

They both fell to the floor after the hit, bodies dropping like sacks of sand. Shuichi paused for a moment, his heart racing, before his movements became frantic. He reached for the phone in his pocket and stared at the screen, where the words glowed out.

”GAME CLEAR.”
”CONGRATULATIONS, ULTIMATE DETECTIVE.”

A soft groan broke the tension, drawing their eyes to the tagger. Kokichi, still lingering by the door, shifted his focus as well. The tagger's horse head lay discarded on the floor, revealing a woman with tangled hair and a bewildered expression. As she sat up, the collar around her neck began to emit a steady blue beep.

Shuichi began, ”Excuse me—”

Splat!

Crimson painted the once-white walls as the collar detonated on the woman's neck. Shuichi instinctively raised his forearm to shield himself, while Maki turned her head away, her eyes heavy with resignation, as of the violence around her was just another scene she had become numb to. Kokichi stood still, his expression blank, as though he were watching a puppet show without strings.

Meanwhile, Mukuro stepped forward, kneeling by the fallen tagger who leaned against the concrete wall, blood pooling beneath them. She sifted through their weapons, examining the cold metal and unused ammunition in their pockets.

Kaito's attention, however, was drawn to the phone that belonged to the tagger. The words saying:

”GAME OVER.”

“This person…” Kaito began, glancing between the lifeless body and Mukuro. “Were they also made to participate in the game?”

Mukuro didn’t respond, her attention fixated on the lifeless tagger. She extended her hand, methodically patting down the tagger's pockets as if searching for lost change rather than remnants of a life snuffed out.

Kaito sighed at Mukuro's silence, his gaze drifting to the other figure, the crossing guard, slumped nearby. Suddenly, he heard a faint crackle of static emanating from the guard's pocket. Curious, he patted down the fabric until his fingers found a walkie-talkie. He lifted it to eye level, the device sputtering to life with a disembodied voice. “Answer…in our hands now,” it droned.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. “'Answer'? Hey… can you hear me? What’s this ‘answer’ you’re talking about?”

The walkie-talkie only repeated itself, its voice monotonous. “Return. The answer is in our hands now. Return to the Mark of the City”

“‘Mark of the City’?” Kaito attempted to stand up straight, but he was still badly injured. He spun around, only to find the soldier had vanished.

“Return,” the device repeated again. “Return to the Mark of the City. Return to the Mark of the City.”

A few moments later, Shuichi slipped out of the apartment room, spine curling like a sick worm coiled around a thorn. The door, riddled with bullet wounds like an infected scab, creaked open to reveal the brunette who had pulled him from the depths. ”That woman...” He murmured, ”I killed her.”

Maki’s gaze was as flat as a corpse’s eyes, an unblinking stare before she let out a tired breath. ”Everyone was made to participate in these games. It's no one's fault.”

”Just what in the world is all this...?”

”Does it matter? I don’t know either,” she walked forward, her steps carving shallow graves. ”But... It’s sickening how much I’m willing to scrape and claw just to keep breathing.” She spared Shuichi one final glance. ”If you’re not ready to drown in the filth, you might as well choke now,” and she walked away.

A moment later, the lights vanished, plunging everything back into shadows. Kokichi sat in the blood-smeared checkered room, humming a tune to himself, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket like a thief preparing for a heist.

He approached the dead tagger and searched her pockets casually, treating her as if she were just another discarded item. Eventually, he found a folded piece of paper and tilted his head, unfolding it to see what it contained.

It was a roughly drawn, abstract design or sketch on it that appears to be a series of interconnected, curved lines forming a circular pattern. The drawing consists of a series of curved, intersecting lines that form a central, circular or web-like pattern. The lines appear to radiate outwards, creating a tangled, intricate design that lacks any clear, recognizable shapes or symbols. He tilted his head in curiosity as he wondered why such a drawing had something to do with something like this.

Chapter 7: Seven of Hearts 3.1

Summary:

What's done can't be undone, but at least you can keep it from happening again.

Notes:

Chapter summary recited by Anne Frank !!

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”Someone radioed in?”

The pianist inquired. Shortly after their reunion, Kaito recounted his tale of how he unearthed a walkie-talkie from the graveyard of someone’s pocket.

He nodded firmly, “Yeah,” while doing that, his injured side was being bandaged by Kirumi. “Thanks.” He adjusted his sitting position into something comfortable, curling like a cat in the sun. “If we go to the place called the Mark of the City, we might be able to discover something important.”

“Like where all the people who disappeared went?” Kaede questioned, sinking into the chair next to Kaito and Kirumi like a stone into murky waters. “Could it ...really be just an evacuation center?”

“Hm... Maybe everyone else is there,” he said. “Well, we can get there. It's just a matter of time.”

“What should we do?” Shuichi asked, absorbing their expressions like a sponge soaking up water. “Shall we try going there?”

“In any case,” Kaito began, “we have no choice but to trust that voice for now.”

Kirumi’s gaze flitted to Kaede, then back to the boys,. “Kaede won’t be able to make it with her leg injury.”

The two tensed at the mention of their friend’s injury, Kaede’s lips sagged like wilted petals. The detective exhaled slowly, “You're right.”

The maid's face mirrored Kaede’s growing concern as she subtly fidgeted with her gloved fingers, jittering as if tiny, parasites crawled under her supple kin. “The two of us…our Truth Bullets are going to run out by the end of today.”

“We’ll clear today’s game and wrestle you more Truth Bullets from the void,” Kaito declared firmly, “and then, let’s hunt for the Mark of the City tomorrow.”

He played with the edge of the bandage around his wounded waist, a grimace flickering across his face. He glanced over at Shuichi, who was staring off into the distance, his expression lost in thought. Kaito sighed, “I will go to the Mark of the City. No matter what. I'll do whatever it takes.” He reclined against the chair. “We still have hope.”

 

*******

”But... It’s sickening how much I’m willing to scrape and claw just to keep breathing. If you’re not ready to drown in the filth, you might as well choke now.”

Shuichi leaned against the balcony of their temporary base, the rusted railing biting into his palms. The fresh afternoon wind tangled with his hair, teasing his ahoge like they were nature’s fingers. He recalled the words that stabbed daggers in his heart from the woman who assisted him back in the spade game.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the images of the secondary tagger's head exploding, but they stubbornly remained, etched into his memory like it was permanently carved into his brain.

He tried to think of something else, anything else besides seeing the blood in the white room. He found his mind wandering to his life before the Borderlands. It was a life that seemed so distant now, like it belonged to a completely different person.

A boring and sad existence.

He wondered, how many lives could he have saved if he had taken the time to learn and grow as a detective instead of idly wasting away on the couch, watching the hours tick by on a reality show that didn't even mean anything. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. A real detective would have been able to piece together a clearer picture of their situation and maybe even uncover the truth behind the games and the disappearances.

“Oh hey, Shuichi.” He turned to see Kaede standing there, leaning heavily on her crutches, a resigned smile on her face.

As she settled next to him on the balcony, a comfortable silence fell between them for a moment. The two shared a quiet understanding of the changes they had undergone since ending up in the Borderlands.

”Kaede, I'm...sorry.” He spoke up suddenly, giving her a side-long. ”I don't really know why I should be apologizing... But I feel like I should.”

”Sorry? For what?” Kaede raised her eyebrows in surprise, turning to look at him with a puzzled expression. She leaned back against the railing and shifted her weight to relieve some of the pressure off her injured leg.

Shuichi rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. He knew his reasoning might sound a little convoluted, but he wanted to get his thoughts out. “I don't know... I just feel like I should be apologizing for something.”

She shifted a little closer to him, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch his arm in a comforting gesture. “You don’t need to apologize for anything, Shuichi,” she replied gently, ”we’re all in this messed up situation together, aren’t we?”

He blinked at her touch, surprised by Kaede's uncharacteristic display of comfort. He glanced down at her hand on his arm, then back at her, trying to lighten the mood. “Who are you, and what have you done with the Kaede I know?”

“Har har, very funny,” she answered dryly, withdrawing her hand from his arm. “I can’t be nice sometimes?”

“I didn’t say I was complaining. It’s just...strange. You’re usually a lot more...well, blunt and rude.”

“You’ve changed too, you know,” she commented, tilting her head thoughtfully, ”you’re more…decisive than before. More willing to take charge, it seems.”

“I guess I’m just...trying to figure things out, you know?” Shuichi scratched the back of his head, a faint blush blooming like a shy flower on his cheeks. He wasn't used to receiving compliments. “I can’t afford to be indecisive in this situation. We’d be toast if I just sat back and watched.”

“You're starting to act more like a detective now,” she giggled in an amused manner, “reminds me of your uncle, in a way. I guess all those lectures and practice cases he used to drown you in are finally paying off.”

“Yeah, well... I guess now I see how much he was trying to help me,” he muttered with a soft sigh, “I just... I never took it seriously. I always said no to the practice cases, I didn't want to listen. I didn’t even care.” He paused for a moment, his jaw clenching. “I don’t know why anyone would want to trust their life to someone like me.”

Kaede smacked him lightly on the shoulder, she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Enough with the self-deprecation, Shuichi. Stop saying ‘someone like me.’ You’re a hell of a lot more than you give yourself credit for. You just proved that in that door game. We survived because of you.”

“I know,” he let out a shaky breath, “but... what if I can't keep doing this?” He looked down at his hands, which were trembling slightly. He clenched them to stop them from shaking, but it didn't work completely. “What if I mess up the next game? There’s no more room for mistakes. Every wrong move could mean someone’s death.”

“Shuichi… if there was a piano here, I’d play something just for you. And no, it wouldn’t be one of those ‘emo’ pieces,” she added with a faint smile. “I think Debussy’s Clair de Lune would suit this moment best. It’s a song that feels like the moon’s reflection rippling gently over the water–quiet, tender, and able to soothe even the most restless heart.”

He watched as she slipped her hand in his. "Do you feel that? I’m shaking too. But if you weren’t here…it would be so much worse. I’d be trembling so hard I wouldn’t be able to do anything at all.” A dry, almost bitter laugh escaped her lips, then she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. ”But even with everything that’s happened, I’m glad you’re still here beside me. Because of you, we made it through that game, even if I lost my leg in the process. If you hadn’t been there…my whole body might have burned instead.” She glanced up at him, smiling. ”That’s why… I think you should be prouder of yourself. If I can believe in you, then you should believe in yourself, too.”

Shuichi’s breath caught as Kaede’s fingers closed gently around his own. Her voice flowed into him like a soft tide, loosening the tightness wound deep in his shoulders. The tremor in his fingers began to subside, replaced by a fragile calmness, as though she had lit a small lantern inside him. Without thinking, he tightened his grip on her hand, a silent response to everything she was giving him in that moment. she was, comforting him, when she was the one who had been injured. He didn't feel worthy of her praise.

“Kaede…” he whispered hoarsely. He glanced down at their hands, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. He swallowed, his throat feeling strangely tight. “I...don’t know what to say. I’m...sorry.”

”You can start with: ’I’ll try.’” She nodded to him with a small, rare smile. ”Go on, say it.”

“I...I’ll try." He said, his voice wavering slightly. It felt like such a simple vow, but there was a deep meaning behind it. He was promising to try to be better, to believe in himself. For her, for their fellow survivors, and for himself.

“Good,” she smiled softly. They stood there on the balcony for a while, hands still entwined, as if the world had pressed pause just for them.

 

********

 

The night was suffocatingly still as they moved forward, the only sound being the soft shuffle of footsteps. Shuichi, Kaede–leaning on her crutches with each step–Kaito, and Kirumi made their way through the dimly lit path.

”THIS WAY TO THE GAME ARENA.”

They soon arrived at the arena, a glass-encased botanical garden, veins of greenery pulsing like an organism straining against its own transparent skin. ”Shinjuku Natural Botanical Garden,” the sign bared its teeth at them. The four stopped at the barrier, its blue light crawling over their bodies like maggots before they took a step ahead.

Dragging themselves forward, they peeled through the lobby, which stood like the ribcage of some creature. Three tables waited, like organs left on display. The first was littered with dangerous tools: blades, hammers, and other sharp, jagged edges...and beneath a sign that said: “FEEL FREE TO USE ANY OF THESE.”

The second table bore the phones, the devices staring back at them like dead eyes, glassy and unblinking.

Kaito reached out, his fingers curling around the hilt of a knife. “Are we dismantling something?” he mumbled, lifting the blade as if testing the weight. “Yup, I'll take this. Y’know, just in case.”

Their focus shifted to the last table, which displayed the advanced mechanical headgear. The masks lay like sleeping beasts, their sleek surfaces reminiscent of polished bone, adorned with spines that curled and twisted as if alive. The spines connected the masks to the necks of whoever dared to wear them, resembling the collar of a creature in servitude, ready to fuse flesh.

“FACIAL RECOGNITION IN PROGRESS.”
“PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT…”

…

”ENTRY REGISTERED.”

The TV crackled to life with an almost eager pulse, like a wide grin stretching too far across a decaying face.

”WELCOME! SPONSORED BY SHINJUKU NATURAL BOTANICAL GARDEN.”
“PUT ON THE GOGGLES AND PROCEED TO THE GARDEN.”

They hesitated before the table, the mechanical headgear seeming to pulse in the light, like parasites waiting to latch onto their hosts. Shuichi was the first to step forward, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the cold surface of the gear. It felt unnervingly smooth, like the skin of something long dead but preserved for far too long. The spine crept along his neck, cold and invasive, latching onto his skin like roots digging into soil. He winced as the mechanical tendrils tightened, securing their hold.

”REGISTRATION IN PROGRESS…”
“CURRENT PARTICIPANTS:”
-Shuichi Saihara (ID: 100907)
-Kaede Akamatsu (ID: 100326)
-Kirumi Tojo (ID: 100510)
-Kaito Momota (ID: 100412)

The mechanical enhancement built into his eye had a glowing ring in its center, a subtle yet eerie red that spins like a targeting reticle. It’s as though his eye isn’t just seeing but calculating, analyzing everything in his line of sight with sniper-like accuracy.

”What’s this?”

As Shuichi turned, his mechanical eye flickered, the red reticle adjusting and locking onto Kaede, who stood just beside him. His augmented vision immediately recognized her, confirming her identity through the system. The gear on his head whirred faintly, processing the information as the small ID number flashed beside her, verifying her presence.

”Huh. My goggles recognized Kaede and the target cursor turned red,” he said.

”Yeah, when we look at each other.”

Kirumi nodded to their direction, holding onto the housing. “It must be a tracking function.”

”REGISTRATION IS NOW CLOSED.”
”THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

”DIFFICULTY, SEVEN OF HEARTS.”

Shuichi’s eyes widened, like old stitches tearing apart. “Hearts?”

“The mark on a trump card signifies the game's genre. Club is team-based, and Diamond refers to intellectual games. As for Heart...it's the most troublesome one of all.”

”...You play with people’s hearts and you tear them apart.” He stared blankly at the screen, his eyes glazed over like the glassy stare of a corpse.

Kaito's eyebrows sank low like two heavy clouds. “Seven? Isn't that kinda difficult?”

”GAME, ‘HIDE AND SEEK.’”

”RULES:”
-”ONE PERSON WILL BE THE WOLF, AND THE OTHER THREE WILL BE THE LAMBS WHO WILL TRY TO EVADE THE WOLF’S GAZE.”
-”ONCE THE WOLF DETECTS A LAMB, THE SENSOR WILL REACT AND THE LAMB WILL BECOME THE NEW WOLF.”

”Hey, wait a second!” He yelled out upon reading the rules. “You can't mean that the four of us have to compete against each other!?”

Kirumi lifted a palm to her lips, her eyebrows creasing. “Wait, would that mean…”

”That it’ll be game over,” Kaede continued for her, “for whoever is the wolf in the end!”

”THE CLEAR CONDITION: ”ONCE THE FIFTEEN MINUTE TIME LIMIT IS UP, IT’LL BE GAME CLEAR FOR THE WOLF.”

Notes:

Sorry. Too short? :<

(Also little detail I liked: The ID numbers are their birthdays!! :3)

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Chapter 8: Seven of Hearts 3.2

Summary:

border [noun]
/ bor•dr

Bordering death.
No turning back.
The end.

Notes:

I'm starting to realize how kind of short each chapter is here😭I promise it'll be longer next time.

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”THE CLEAR CONDITION: ”ONCE THE FIFTEEN MINUTE TIME LIMIT IS UP, IT’LL BE GAME CLEAR FOR THE WOLF.”
”WHEN FIFTEEN MINUTES HAS PASSED, THE COLLARS FASTENED TO THE LAMBS’ NECKS WILL EXPLODE.”

”THE FIRST WOLF IS ID: 100326. KAEDE AKAMATSU.”

And like an applause from an unsuspecting audience, Kaede’s neutral blue profile turned into red. It had a cartoon wolf with a silly expression, its tongue sticking out in a playful, exaggerated manner.

”FIFTEEN MINUTES, COMMENCE.”

”Hah… Really?” She forced a dry smile, but it quickly shifted into a crooked frown. Her hands flew to the collar around her neck, fingers trembling as she tried to pry it off. Her nails scraped uselessly against the cold metal as her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Shuichi rushed to Kaede’s side the moment he saw her struggling. Without thinking, he grabbed her wrists, stopping her frantic movements. “Stop it, Kaede! If you try to take it off, the collar might explode!”

”I don't care!”

“Stop it!”

“Leave me alone!”

For a moment, everything was still except for their ragged breathing. Then, Kaede’s eyes locked onto Shuichi’s, and in that instant, something shifted.

Shuichi’s once neutral blue profile turned a bright red, splashing across the screen like a spilled can of paint. Next to it, the cartoon wolf grinned like it had just won a prize in a bizarre contest, its exaggerated features stretched into a mocking smile.

”Shuichi?” Kaito frowned, arching an eyebrow at detective. He glanced at him and they locked eyes, causing for him to become the new Wolf. Even after their profiles changed, Kaito and Shuichi didn't stop staring at each other.

”When we lock eyes, the Wolf role is passed on,” he said, “that's the catch in this game.”

”So if the Wolf doesn't survive, it's because the lambs killed it?” Kaede exchanged glances with her two friends as Kirumi approached one of the tables. “What do we do, Shuichi?”

Kirumi grabbed a metal hammer, and raised the volume of her voice. “I have an idea!”

Once Kirumi had drawn the attention of every player, their gazes locking onto hers like the grip of a noose tightening around a neck, the role of the Wolf was forced upon her. In that frozen moment, her eyes met another's across the space. The hammer in her hand felt heavier now, not just a tool but the weapon of a hunter. She didn’t linger. Without another word, she ran into the depths of the botanical garden, the vast expanse of greenery now nothing more than a battleground dressed in vines and leaves.

”Kirumi! The one that needs to hide in this game is the Wolf!” Kaito’s voice tore through the stillness, thick with anger, as if the truth had clawed its way out of his throat. His anger flared as he watched her slip into the depths of the garden, and with a burst of adrenaline, he took off after her. “Kirumi!”

”Kaito!” His friends called out, the latter almost tripping.

He burst into the garden, the lush greenery swallowing him whole as he strained to keep Kirumi in sight. The air inside the garden was stifling, damp with the cloying scent of damp soil and rotting plants, like a mausoleum disguised in greenery.

The towering trees and thick undergrowth cast long shadows, turning once-innocent paths into dark corridors of death. She moved quickly, her steps purposeful. The garden offered no real sanctuary; its beauty was a lie, a mask stretched over the face of a monster. There were no flowers here but only the creeping, drowning sense that something terrible was about to happen. “Stop running!”

Desperation fueled his pursuit, but Kirumi was quick, and soon she spotted a cluster of thick bushes. She quickly ducked behind them, her heart pounding as she pressed herself against the cool earth, her breath shallow. Kaito sprinted past the bushes, his frustration palpable as he scanned the area, his eyes darting between the foliage. The moment felt agonizingly slow as he continued onward, oblivious to the fact that Kirumi was mere feet away, tucked away in the safety of the dense greenery.

Simultaneously, Kaede struggled to keep pace. With crutches supporting her weight, she limped toward the entrance of the botanical garden. The burn on her bandaged leg remained throbbing with every movement, a searing ache that made it difficult to concentrate on anything but the pain. Before she could even step foot into the garden, her strength faltered. With a soft groan, she sank down onto the hard floor, the rough surface biting into her skin. She could hear the distant shouts of Kaito calling for Kirumi, their voices echoing through the air, but they felt worlds away.

”Kirumi, can you read me?” She asked through the headgear, it seemed it had a microphone like a gaming headset. “I still want to thank you. Can you stop running?”

”I’m sorry, I intend to live…” She murmured, like speaking to a deceased loved one’s grave. “I must survive…no matter what it takes… If I must debase myself, so be it! I would drink filth and eat carrion to survive!—”

The world around her seemed to shift in slow motion as she fell, the vibrant greenery blurring into a messy oil painting of madness. She hit the ground hard, the impact jolting through her body and knocking the wind out of her. For a split second, she lay there, stunned.

Kaito burst through the underbrush and finally reached Kirumi, who was still on the ground, stunned from her fall. Before she could react, he stepped closer, looming over her as he forced her chin up, compelling her to meet his gaze. He yelled, “Turn around!”

She instinctively tried to crawl away, desperate to regain some distance between them. But before she could make it very far, Kaito's hand shot up, gripping the back of her shirt with a fierce hold, anchoring her in place.

Feeling trapped, Kirumi’s heart pounded loudly against her chest. She quickly scanned the ground for anything that could help her escape. Her fingers brushed against a small, jagged rock. And in a swift second, she swung the rock at him, aiming for the side where he had been injured. The sharp edge connected with a dull this against his waist, and Kaito staggered back, a grunt escaping his lips.

Time seemed to freeze. In that instant, they both felt the undeniable shift in their roles. He tried to get up and attempted to escape in the other direction, but the revelation angered the maid. She wasn't about to let this moment slip through her fingers. With a sudden ferocity, she grabbed the other side of his waist and began to hit his injured side again and again.

Just as she aimed for another hit, he took the opportunity. Quickly, he pushed her back, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Suddenly, a voice called out from the other side of the garden, breaking through the charged atmosphere. “Kaito!” His attention snapped back to Shuichi just as the two locked eyes. Suddenly, the rules of their twisted game shifted again. The detective lowered his head, avoiding his gaze. “Both of you, enough! Stop it! I- if we work together, we might be able to figure this out!”

"You're so naive; this is a game of Hearts!" Kirumi grabs the knife Kaito once extracted from the earth like a bone from a grave.

”TEN MINUTES REMAINING.”

As he reached the edge of a dense thicket, he slowed his pace, glancing back to gauge how far she had come. But in that instant, he froze. Kirumi stood before him, her expression was unreadable as she slowly moved forward. “Do you want to live or die?”

Shuichi stood his ground. “All I need is some time, please! I'll think of a way to get out of this game!”

Kaito suddenly emerged from an underbush, trapping the detective between the two of them. Kirumi halted her advance, her eyes narrowing as she registered Kaito's appearance.

The maid bitterly smiled. “Make me the Wolf. Where's the justice when someone who has the desire to live dies? I have people on my shoulders. I can't die in a hellhole like this.”

”Shuichi,” Kaito began, panting, “we can't all survive in this game!”

As Kirumi prepared to lunge at Shuichi, her muscles coiling with intent, a sudden movement from the side caught everyone off guard. Kaede burst from the underbrush, reaching out with surprising speed and grabbed Kirumi by the arm, yanking her to the side. The force of the sudden pull sent them both tumbling to the ground, their bodies crashing against the soft earth. Shuichi watched, heart pounding, as the two girls fell in a tangle of limbs, mud splattering around them.

”Let me go!” She struggled from her grip.

“Go, run!”

“I said let me go!”

With Kirumi and Kaede grappling on the ground, the opportunity was too precious to waste. Shuichi stole a quick glance at Kaito, he quickly pivoted and sprinted away from the tangled struggle.

”EIGHT MINUTES REMAINING.”

After a frantic chase through the twisting paths of the garden, Shuichi finally lost sight of Kaito, the sounds of their footsteps fading into the distance. Just ahead, he spotted a narrow entrance partially concealed by thick vines. Without hesitating, he slipped into the tiny cave-hallway. Recalling the tools he had gathered before entering the garden, he pulled out a handful of screwdrivers and other tools, their metallic surfaces gleaming even in the low light. His fingers trembled slightly as he gripped a flathead screwdriver.

He positioned the glass against the wall, using it as a mirror to reflect light and reveal his reflection. The metal felt cold against his skin as he twisted and pried, but no matter how hard he tried, the headgear remained stubbornly affixed to his head. Each attempt only led to frustration as the tools slipped and failed to gain any leverage. He grunted in irritation, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried various angles and techniques, but the headgear wouldn’t budge.

”Where are you, Shuichi! Come out!” His friend shouted loudly, his voice echoing throughout the entire botanical garden. “Are you really just gonna hide until time runs out?”

Shuichi picked up a pair of pliers, and as he turned the tool over, almost pinching the metallic collar on his neck, he hesitated. His breath hitched, would he risk it? Would the collar explode his neck and cover the room in his blood?

His hands trembled uncontrollably, and he felt the pliers slip from his grip. They clattered to the ground, the sharp sound echoing harshly in the stillness of the cave. It was a sound that seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of his failure to act decisively. He covered his face in despair, sobbing slightly. “I don’t know what to do… I’m sorry. I’m sorry!...”

”What's the use of saying sorry? Shuichi!” Kaito grunted loudly, still gripping his now bleeding side. “In the end, that’s…all you ever do. All you ever do is say sorry!”

Shuichi wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, taking a shaky breath as he glanced towards the entrance of the cave. He sank to the ground, curling into himself as he hugged his knees tightly to his chest. The cold, hard floor pressed against his body, grounding him yet also reminding him of the reality he faced. His breath quickened, each inhale a struggle as the panic rose.

Shuichi buried his face against his knees, letting the world around him fade away for just a moment, cocooned in the desperate hope that somehow, everything would be alright.

This was just another one of his terrible nightmares, and he wanted to wake up.

Chapter 9: Seven of Hearts 3.3

Summary:

Life has a wicked sense of humor. His best friends, his acquintances, everyone in general, each of them deserved to live more than him. But they're all gone now. There's only him talking to you, alive, useless.

Notes:

Chapter summary recited by Enigma from Reverse 1999 !! Seriously, play that game. It's so good.

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”I’m sorry…!”

Shuichi sank deeper into himself, clutching his knees as the weight of despair pressed down harder than ever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, mixing with the cold air of the cave. The muffled sounds of madness outside–the shouts and scuffles–felt like a distant nightmare.

”I’m sorry…”

Why is this happening? How did it come to this? Where did it all go wrong? Weren't they all friends with each other several minutes ago? He guessed that's the effect of a Hearts game.

He pressed his forehead against his knees, the tears flowed freely, his body shaking with each sob. He felt lost, like a piece of driftwood tossed about in a stormy sea. Why does everything have to be so hard?

He thought about his uncle, who had always wanted him to be a great detective. He thought of Kaito and the others, who were out there fighting for their lives. He thought about himself, who wasted his life away instead of doing something worthwhile.

”I’m…sorry.”

What was the value of his life, anyway?

******

The sun hung high in the clear sky, casting down its warm rays on the small park where Kaede, Shuichi, and Kaito had decided to spend their day off from school.

They were sitting on a grassy spot under a large tree, its leaves providing a cool shade from the heat. Their backpacks were scattered on the ground next to them, forgotten for the moment as they chatted idly, enjoying each other's company.

Kaito, as usual, was the loudest of the three, his voice booming across the clearing. He was in the middle of regaling them with a tale of the latest sports match he had watched on TV, his enthusiasm infectious and lively.

Kaede let out a sigh, rolling her eyes. She was used to his loud and boisterous demeanor, but it was still a little too much for her sometimes.

Shuichi, on the other hand, was quietly listening to Kaito's story, his chin resting on his hand. He glanced sidelong at Kaede, noticing the annoyance on her face. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her expression.

She glanced at him, catching his amused expression. She narrowed her eyes playfully at him, silently telling him to shut up. He grinned back at her, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Kaito, blissfully unaware of their silent interaction, was still going on about his story. “And then, in the last second, the team scored a goal! Can you believe it? It was insane!”

It was impossible to fully shut Kaito up, especially when he was this energetic. “Yeah, yeah. We get it, the team won. It's not like it's the first time.” She huffed, trying to sound uninterested, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

He stuck his tongue at her. “You’re just jealous because you don't know anything about sports.”

”I don’t need to know about sports to know that you’re annoying.” Her voice was laced with a mix of annoyance and affection.

”Hey! I'm not annoying, I'm awesome!” He flexed his muscles like an exaggerated bodybuilder, trying to prove his point. He glanced over at Shuichi, seeking support.

He knew how to play this game. He wasn't going to pick a side. He raised his hands up in defense with a small chuckle, “Oh no, don't drag me into this.”

”Traitor!” Kaito exclaimed dramatically, feigning hurt. Then, he turned back to Kaede. “See, you’re even turning Shuichi against me.”

As the conversation continued, Shuichi realized that they had finished the snacks they had brought along. Feeling his stomach grumble, he got up from his spot under the tree. “Alright, I’m going to buy some more snacks.” He said, stretching his arms. His legs were a bit numb from sitting in the same spot for too long.

He walked away from his friends, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced back at Kaede and Kaito, still arguing, and couldn't help but smile wider. They were loud, yes, but they were his friends. He wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world.

Of course, it hadn’t always been like this. High school had begun with him more...isolated, withdrawn into himself. But they had barged into his life like a tornado, forcing him to open up, to enjoy their company. They had been the ones to pull him out of his shell, and for that, he was forever grateful.

Lost in his thoughts, wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. As he rounded the corner of a nearby building, he accidentally bumped into someone, the collision jolting him back to reality. He stumbled backwards, a sheepish expression on his face. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled.

The stranger he bumped into was a boy shorter than himself. He couldn't remember much of his appearance but could only recall the color purple, with him wearing the standard school uniform, but with the jacket unbuttoned and the tie loosened. The boy offered a brief apologetic smile before quickly walking past, hands shoved into his pockets. It was a swift encounter, but it left Shuichi a bit flustered. He shook his head, feeling a bit foolish for spacing out so much.

As he continued towards the store, Shuichi's mind strayed back to his friends. He chuckled softly to himself, picturing Kaede and Kaito's faces as they continued their banter. They would probably be at each other's throats until he returned with the snacks. But he knew they meant well, that their arguments were just part of their dynamic. And even though he often found himself caught in the middle, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Wouldn't he?

******

”Shuichi! Come out!” His friend’s panting and groaning could be heard. “If you’re happy being a loser…then let me be the Wolf!”

Oh right. He was still in a nightmare.

Shadows elongated and warped around Shuichi, as if they were alive, mocking him as he wept silently. Each sob that escaped his lips felt like a betrayal, the kind that sank into the marrow of his bones. He pressed his forehead against his knees, trying to stifle his cries, but they slipped through the cracks.

Kaito had initially sought him out, eager to confront the Wolf, perhaps even to save him from the darkness that clung to him. But now, as he staggered through the garden, clutching his injured side, he felt more like a shadow than a man. His breath came out in ragged gasps, every inhale seeped into his veins like poison.

Meanwhile, Kaede grappled with Kirumi, her friend transformed into a creature of desperate ambition. She struggled to maintain her grip on her, whose movements were frantic, like a trapped animal desperate for escape. She dragged Kirumi beneath a tangle of thick bushes, a hiding place that felt more like a grave than a refuge.

They were all bound by their will to escape the game that could break them, knowing only one could walk away in the end.

”THREE MINUTES REMAINING.”

Three minutes left, and he was still the Wolf. Shuichi sat there, his tears slowly drying, but the weight in his chest refused to lift. He felt small, useless, and trapped in a situation he didn’t know how to fix. Why was he still here? he thought, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He wasn’t a hero, wasn’t some brave detective like his uncle had wanted him to be. He was just…Shuichi. A guy who didn’t want to be here, who wasn’t cut out for this. He had no fight left in him. What’s the point of running anymore? He couldn’t win, not like this. There was no glory in surviving if it meant playing a game he never wanted to be part of.

I’m done.

The decision was simple, almost too easy. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He didn’t want to be the Wolf. All he wanted now was for this game to be over.

”I…I’ll quit,” he said, breaking the stiff silence. “I’ll drop out of this game.” He hugged his knees tighter, breathing heavily. “You’re all… You’re all that matters to me. If someone has to lose at this game…let it be me.” He stood up slowly, feeling the stiffness in his limbs from sitting so long in the cold. “I'm leaving the game.”

He would give up the role of the Wolf to someone else. He never wanted it anyway. He was going to find someone else, anyone else, and pass the role of the Wolf onto them. Maybe then he could finally stop running, finally stop feeling like he was drowning in this nightmare. “Kaito? Kaede? Kirumi?” he called for his friends but no answer.

The garden felt eerily still, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Shuichi swallowed hard, trying to keep the panic from rising in his throat. He tried again, his voice cracking slightly. “Kaito? Kaede?” Still, nothing but the soft rustle of leaves in the distance.

”Guys!” He called once again, but to his avail. Meanwhile, Kaito sat slouched on an old wooden bench, hands resting in his lap as he stared blankly ahead. The distant echoes of Shuichi’s voice reached him, but he didn’t move. He heard his name being called, felt the desperation in it, but he remained still. Let him live. That’s all he could think. He wasn’t going to drag Shuichi back into this nightmare if he didn’t have to. His fingers twitched slightly, but he kept them still. He knew he could answer, make it easy, but he didn’t. Not this time. For once, maybe doing nothing was the best thing he could do for Shuichi.

Elsewhere, hidden in the thick bushes near the edge of the garden, Kaede crouched with Kirumi pinned beneath her. She had one hand clamped firmly over Kirumi’s mouth, her other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her still. Her heart pounded in her chest as she listened to Shuichi's desperate calls, feeling each one like a sharp pang in her gut.

”Kaede!” Shuichi sprinted through the dense garden, his breath ragged as he pushed past the low-hanging branches and thick vines. His heart pounded in his chest, faster with every step as he ran to where he had last seen Kaede and Kirumi. As he neared the spot, Shuichi’s legs burned, and his chest heaved, but he didn’t slow down. The clearing came into view, just ahead—the old stone bench, the twisting vines, the place where Kirumi had fallen. But as he reached it, he skidded to a stop. His eyes darted around wildly. They were gone. “Where are you?! Kaede!”

”YOU BECOME THE WOLF IF YOU ARE FOUND. HIDE SO THAT THE WOLF WON’T FIND YOU.”

”Kaito! Kaede!” His eyes widened in panic as he began to search the area frantically, his footsteps quick and uneven as he darted around the clearing. “Come out! Let’s talk! Please!”

”HIDE SO THAT THE WOLF WON’T FIND YOU.”

”Kaito! Where are you?!” Kaito’s eyes flickered open as he heard the rush of footsteps approaching. He had almost called out to him, almost pushed himself up from the bench, but the weight of his decision pressed heavily on his chest. Instead, he stayed low, laying back against the bench to avoid being seen. Shuichi continued his frantic search, his mind consumed by thoughts of Kaede and Kirumi. He had no idea that Kaito was so close, hidden just out of sight. “Why won’t you answer me?! Kaito!”

”HIDE WELL, LAMB.”

”Where is everyone? Anyone?” Shuichi slowed his frantic pace, panting heavily as exhaustion began to creep in. He scanned the area again, his breath hitching in his throat. “Kaede! Kaito! Come out, please!”

He zigzagged through the paths, trying to remember the routes they had taken before, but the labyrinthine layout only added to his confusion. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed past thorny bushes, heedless of the scratches that lined his arms.

Kaito, still on the bench, sat up, grunting in irritation, “My God, shut up.” Shuichi paused mid-step, the unexpected response cutting through his desperate search. “...Hey, do you guys remember? That time when I accidentally spilled soda on Kaede’s birthday at a karaoke place and it malfunctioned.”

”Kaito, where are you?!”

”Hah… We started singing improvised songs that we were supposed to play,” Kaede smiled at the memory. It was only a memory now. “We laughed a lot that day, didn't we?”

”Kaede?” This wasn't the time for reminiscing, and it made Shuichi frustrated at their lighthearted banter. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on past memories; not now.

”Yeah, we pretended to be characters from some soap opera. I remember when Shuichi snorted out another cup and it came out of his nose,” he laughed, like nothing ever wrong happened.

”Where are you, Kaede?! Kaito!”

”Shuichi,” she began, “live for us. And you better not lose. Okay? It's a promise.”

Kirumi, who had been struggling in the thick underbrush, suddenly halted. The world around her faded, and for a brief moment, all she could hear was Kaede’s voice echoing in her mind. Live for us. She had only known these people for a few short days, and they were risking their lives for a single friend, and the thought of it shook her to her core. For Shuichi. For each other. She could never be like them.

”THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.”

She turned to Kaede, who sat there, a smile breaking through her tears, the expression a beautiful blend of joy and sorrow. Without a word, they rushed toward each other, colliding in a tight embrace. No words were needed; the hug spoke volumes. Both cried, their sobs muffled against each other’s shoulders.

”It can't be me!” Shuichi yelled desperately. “I shouldn't be the one to live!”

”TWENTY SECONDS.”

”I’m behind you,” he turned around, seeing his friend slumped against the railing, “Shuichi.”

”TEN SECONDS.”

”Thank you.”

”FIVE, FOUR.”

”Kaito, WAIT!” He ran forward to his friend. The other two, away from the scene, could only hug each other tighter as the countdown went…

”THREE, TWO.”

Splat!

In an instant, it was over. Shuichi’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, paralyzed, as the device detonated. Blood and tissue splattered in the air like a celebration confetti for his friend’s death.

His world narrowed to that singular moment. Oh wait, his world had died that day.

Chapter 10: Five of Diamonds 4.1

Summary:

The music has ended; it was a pleasure to hear while it lasted.

Notes:

It took a while to make up this game :') I had to ask a friend to help me think of one and dang was it complicated and hard to write.

Sorry for the lack of updates, my Danganronpa phase went on a hiatus during November and December. It just came back now this January. :>

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Shuichi didn’t remember much.

After that, he didn’t have the courage to find his friends’ corpses, but he knew very well that he couldn’t just leave them like that. The least he could do is see them off with his own hands. That's what they probably would’ve wanted.

Flick.

The decision wasn't rational, but nothing about this game was. The small flame in his hands sprinkled to life with a soft hiss, illuminating his face in the growing twilight as he held the lighter he found. Slowly, he walked toward the nearest bush, eyes cold and empty, before lowering the flame to the dry leaves. The fire caught quickly, devouring the foliage with a hungry crackle, spreading like a disease across the garden floor. He didn’t stop. He moved from plant to plant, setting fire to anything that would burn. The flames reflected in his eyes as they grew higher and higher, the heat almost licking at his skin, but he welcomed it. It was almost comforting to watch the garden, the place where so much had gone wrong, slowly consume itself in the blaze.

He walked away, the burning bushes behind him, the warmth barely brushing his skin. His footsteps were steady, almost casual, as if this was just another task to complete. The garden was vast, but he didn’t rush. He didn't look back to see the flames creeping further, didn't hear the crackling of leaves turning to ash.

Shuichi felt nothing as he left the garden behind. He had burned the garden, but it felt like something inside him had burned out too. He didn’t even try to think about what came next. There was nothing left to do, no one left to save. So he just…gave up.

He roamed the desolate streets, his steps aimless as he wandered through the empty city. His eyes, red and swollen, stared blankly ahead, not focusing on anything in particular. There was no noise except for the soft scuff of his shoes against the cracked pavement.

He passed by a shop, its window broken, the remnants of its displays still visible through the shattered glass. Something caught his eye–a black cap lying on the floor among the debris. Without thinking, he reached for it, slipping it on his head. It was loose, but he tugged it low, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. It wasn't just for comfort. The cap shielded him, blocking any chance of locking eyes with anyone else. He knew, even in an empty city, that the memory of the game’s cruel rules lingered: eye contact was dangerous. It had been the trigger, the moment that decided who became the Wolf and who would fall. He didn’t want that anymore. He didn’t want to look at anyone nor have anyone look at him.

Slowly, his legs grew heavier until he couldn’t move anymore. He stopped in the middle of the empty street, looking around at the nothingness that surrounded him–no people, no life, just the cold emptiness of a city that might as well be a graveyard. He didn’t care anymore. There was nothing left for him to care about. He sank to the ground, his body folding in on itself. The cap stayed low over his eyes, shielding him from whatever remained of the world around him. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see anything.

He stared up at the gray sky, empty of clouds or warmth, just like everything else. The world had fallen silent, and so had he. He had lost everything–his friends, his will, his purpose. The game had taken it all. He closed his eyes, sinking into the numbness that had overtaken him.

****

Time slipped by without meaning, each hour blending into the next. A day has passed, yet he still lies motionless on the street. As he lay there, Kokichi bounced into view, full of energy, with a big grin on his face. He paused when he spotted Shuichi, and squinted his eyes slightly, trying to get a better look at him, who was partially obscured by a black cap pulled low over his eyes. “Oh! You’re that guy from the Tag game!” He exclaimed, pointing as if he had just solved a riddle. He giggled, squatting next to him and peering under the brim of his hat. “Geez, you look even more emo now.”

No reply.

Kokichi’s grin widened as he stepped around to block the sunlight from Shuichi’s face, casting his shadow over him. He didn’t really want to drag someone along, but leaving this guy here felt...wrong. Even for a liar like him. Besides, he has potential. He can’t rot here yet. He could still be useful to him.

“Okay, fine,” Kokichi muttered. “Look, I’ve got this camp nearby. It’s not much, but it’s better than dying out here, right?” He paused, watching Shuichi for any reaction, any sign that he was listening. “If you come with me, we can...figure something out. I’m not saying I need your help, but, you know...you’re pretty smart.”

Shuichi didn’t move. Kokichi puffed his cheeks and then let out an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, alright, I get it! You don’t wanna move. But I’m not asking, okay? I’m telling you. Get up.” He crouched down again, this time grabbing Shuichi’s arm. And he barely stirred, his body heavy and uncooperative. Kokichi tugged harder, letting out a huff as put more effort into pulling, but he didn’t budge. “Oof! Geez, you’re like a sack of bricks! C’mon, I’m not that weak, am I?”

He stumbled backward, letting go of Shuichi and landing on his backside with a groan. “Okay, okay! So maybe I can’t exactly drag you... But I’m not leaving until you get up! I’ll start singing if I have to. I know a lot of annoying songs, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

No response. Like he fell asleep. He poked Shuichi’s shoulder a couple more times, hoping to stir him, but there was no answer. Just more quiet breathing. He peeked under the brim of his hat. Ah, of course...

”Hmph, you better be worth all this effort.”

****

After some time, Shuichi stirred, blinking slowly as consciousness returned to him. His body ached, and his mind felt heavy, like he had been out for days. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he noticed was the dim light filtering through the fabric above him. A tent? He didn’t remember being inside a tent. Sitting up slowly, he looked around, his vision still adjusting. The space was small and cramped, the air warm and musty. Everything felt like a blur. How did he get here? He couldn’t recall walking or even deciding to move from where he had collapsed on the street.

The sound of shuffling outside the tent made Shuichi lift his head slightly, still dazed. He heard the flap rustle before a familiar voice broke through the quiet. “Gooooood morning, sleepyhead! You look like you’ve been knocked out for a week!” He held a steaming bowl of what smelled like rabbit stew. “I definitely didn’t kidnap you or anything. But, geez, you’re heavy! Do you know how hard it is to drag someone who’s dead weight? Ugh, my back hurts just thinking about it.”

S“Wait a minute,” Shuichi murmured, squinting at him. “You’re that guy from the Tag game, right? The one who…uh, had the taser?”

“Bingo! The one and only! Can’t believe you remember me. I was starting to think I was just a figment of your imagination.” He leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “But I’m real, I promise!” He shifted his hand to stir the bowl of rabbit stew in his hands. “Well, it’s not everyday I get to rescue a randomly smart rotting guy from an empty street! Makes me feel like a hero or something.”

Shuichi rubbed his temples, still feeling the weight of his grief. He raised an eyebrow, “Rescue? I didn’t ask for a rescue. I just—”

“—looked like you needed one!” He interrupted, shoving the bowl in his hands. “And it’s Kokichi, by the way–Kokichi Oma, the one and only labeled Ultimate Supreme Leader! But you can just call me whatever you want. ‘Cool guy,’ ‘Genius,’ or maybe just ‘that guy who carried you.’”

”Um… Shuichi Saihara.”

”Cool. What’s your label?”

”Ultimate Detective, I think.”

”You’re a detective?! Ah, no wonder you noticed the far-range shooting from the tagger before! Cuz you’re a detective, duh!”

Shuichi felt a pang of embarrassment. “Well, not exactly an official detective. Maybe more like…in-training.”

”Alright, super cool,” he replied nonchalantly, as if Shuichi’s detective abilities were no big deal. He placed a small stack of clothes beside him. “By the way, your clothes are dirty. You should change into these. My sense of fashion kinda sucks, so please keep your complaints to yourself.”

Before Shuichi could say anything, Kokichi turned and exited the tent, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The sudden silence felt heavier than before as he stared down at the clothes his new companion had left him. His mind wandered back to Kaito, to Kaede, to everything that had gone so wrong. He’d given up, let himself be dragged here, and now he was supposed to…what, keep going? Why? What was the point? His mind moved sluggishly, like it was stuck in a thick fog. He could barely string his thoughts together, each one slow and disconnected. The world felt so far away.

Shuichi. Live for us. And you better not lose. Okay? It’s a promise.

Shuichi. Thank you.

They wanted him to live, to keep going. But...why? He didn’t feel alive. Not really. He was here, breathing, but that was all. He wasn’t living. What did it even mean to live now? What were they expecting him to do?

I will go to the Mark of the City. No matter what. I’ll do whatever it takes. We still have hope.

His eyes drifted back to the clothes Kokichi had left. The small pile just sat there, waiting for him to act, like everything else. Like his life. Waiting for him to make a choice.

Mark of the City.

Maybe he shouldn’t float aimlessly like a dead leaf on a stagnant pond anymore. No, he should fight to find the surface and breathe again, no matter how murky the waters had become. Slowly, he pulled on the clothes Kokichi had left for him. The fabric felt rough against his skin, a reminder that he was still here, still alive. He shouldn’t let their memories fade with him.

Even if it felt forced, at least he was doing it for someone.

”Kaito, Kaede, Kirumi… Please don’t be angry with me…” He muttered. He wasn’t sure if they were listening. He hoped they were, and he hoped they weren’t. “I can’t join you all just yet. I don’t…know how far I’ll be able to get, but with all my might I’ll live, I’ll live and figure out who’s running these games. That’s what you probably would’ve wanted. And not until I can get out of the Borderlands, I won’t ever stop living!”

A silence settled in the tent, thick and heavy, almost as if the air itself was listening to his vow. Outside the tent, Kokichi heard faint, incoherent murmurs. He squinted through the fabric, unable to make out the words. “Hey, do you need anything in there? Some snacks? A magic spell to help you out?”

”No…” He denied bashfully with a small awkward chuckle. “More importantly, Kokichi, meat. Could I have some? For the moment, I think I just want to eat whatever I can.

”Nishishi! There’s plenty, so feel free to eat it all!”

Later, the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, casting the small camp into shadow. The stars hung in the sky like empty eyes, their dim light seeping into the clearing where Shuichi and Kokichi sat across from each other by the fire. Kokichi was prodding at a metal pot over the fire, stirring it with the occasional dramatic flourish. The smell of something vaguely edible wafted into the air–stew again, if Shuichi had to guess.

Kokichi grinned as he leaned back, letting the pot simmer. “Lucky for you, Shuichi, I’m an amazing chef. And by amazing, I mean...edible.”

He gave him a half-smile, eyes distant but warmer than before. “I don’t think I’ve had ‘amazing’ food since I got here.”

“Ouch! That’s not how you thank your gracious host for saving you!” He poured the stew into a couple of battered tin bowls, sliding one to Shuichi. “Come on, try it. I swear it won’t kill you. Or…maybe it will! Who knows?”

Shuichi raised an eyebrow but picked up the bowl, taking a cautious sip. It wasn’t exactly a masterpiece, but he couldn’t deny it was warm, and that counted for something. The quiet crackle of the fire, combined with the earthy taste of the stew, felt strangely grounding. They ate in a sort of comfortable silence, Kokichi slurping loudly, purposely trying to get a reaction from his companion, who just sighed with a faint chuckle. Shuichi had questions, a lot of them, but for now, he forced himself to his feet. Maybe Kokichi was a stranger, but in a city stripped of life, any semblance of connection (no matter how strange or abrasive )was better than the void he had been left with.

After a while, Kokichi shifted, tilting his head to the side. “Hey, Mr. Detective,” he called playfully, “what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours? You’re way too quiet for you. Don’t tell me my cooking’s that terrible?”

Shuichi looked up, surprised, and shook his head. “No, it’s…fine. Actually, it’s good.” He took a sip from his bowl, trying to gather his thoughts. “I guess I’m just…still figuring things out. Everything feels so—” he paused, searching for the right word, “—numb.”

“Yeah, well, life’s a circus. Sometimes you’re the performer, sometimes you’re just the guy sweeping up the mess afterward,” he shrugged, setting his empty bowl aside, “and right now, I guess you’re the sweeper, huh?”

Shuichi looked down at his food, considering this. “Maybe. I just keep wondering if things will ever go back to normal. It feels like we’re losing parts of ourselves.”

He shrugged again. “Well, if we’re losing parts of ourselves, I guess that just means we’ll have to find some new parts to add! A little upgrade never hurts anyone, right?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.” And, for the first time in what felt like ages, Shuichi managed to let out a faint laugh, the smallest echo of something he thought he’d lost forever. “Look, Kokichi, I need your help with something…”

****

”Oh! The Mark of the City? I know where that is!”

Shuichi spat out the cup of water Kokichi handed him, turning to him in shock. He had just finished explaining his situation to Kokichi, sharing only about the walkie-talkie Kaito had found. There was no need to go into every detail. “What?! You do?! Then, you can take me there! Right?”

”Sureeee! Of course I can!—” Shuichi lit up, “—in one condition,” then his smile faded. “You help complete a game tomorrow since my Truth Bullets end in a day or two. If we manage to survive, I’ll take you there!”

”Okay... So, you’ve been there…? What’s it like?” He inquired curiously.

Kokichi extended his arms dramatically, like a broken clock striking midnight. “It’s a really big place!... A pretty boring one. Be warned though, it’s a place full of crazies. Everyone is crazy. Maybe a little too crazy. That’s why I sometimes leave and camp out here instead!”

Everyone went crazy? What’s that supposed to mean? Did all of Shibuya actually go insane? And all because of morning fireworks?

”So… If I help you win the next game, will you take me there?” He tilted his head like a curious crow inspecting a glimmering trinket, hoping he’d keep his promise.

”Mhm! Scout’s honor!” He made a show of crossing his heart, a promise he probably wouldn’t keep. “I, Kokichi Oma, will take you, Shuichi Saihara, to the Mark of the City after you win me a game!”

Shuichi’s expression tightened, trying to read Kokichi’s sincerity. Kokichi’s promises were as flimsy as smoke, but it was his best lead. “Alright… I’ll help you with the game. But you better not be tricking me.”

“Ohoho, how scary,” he mocked with a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t lie to you, Shuichi! Well…maybe just a tiny lie, but nothing painful.” He stretched, as relaxed as a cat toying with a mouse.

Later, Kokichi slipped into the tent, while Shuichi sprawled comfortably on the ground, feeling a little content. The gentle sounds of the night surrounded him, the distant chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves creating a serene atmosphere. Just as he began to drift into a peaceful sleep, he felt a sudden itch on his arm. Shuichi groaned, opening his eyes to swat at the source of his annoyance. A mosquito had found its way to his skin, leaving an irritating bite behind. And more, and more. “Aaah! It itches!”

Kokichi feigned innocence as he leaned toward the flap, peeking out. “Nishishi… I told you you wouldn't be able to sleep outside.”

He huffed, swatting away another mosquito that had landed on his leg like an unwelcome guest. “I’m fine. Just a few bites, I think,” he replied, trying to sound brave, but the annoyance in his voice slipped through the cracks. “I can handle it.”

“Handle it? I didn't know you could be funny!” Kokichi laughed, his voice light. He leaned back, resting his chin on his hands with an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Shuichi, just get inside! It’s much safer in here.”

The detective glanced at the tent, where Kokichi’s playful smile beckoned him. “What? You want me to sleep in there with you?”

”Of course! We can’t have you turning into some kind of mosquito buffet out here. Plus, I promise to keep you safe…at least from the bugs!”

With a reluctant chuckle, Shuichi pushed himself up from the ground, brushing off the dust. “Alright, alright. I guess it would be nice to get away from the mosquitoes.” He crawled into the tent, zipping the flap shut behind him. Inside, Kokichi made room, a playful grin still on his face as he laid back against the fabric of the tent. Shuichi settled in beside him, still feeling a little embarrassed but relieved to escape the bite-happy insects outside. “Just don’t start snoring or anything, okay?” he joked, looking at him sideways.

“No promises!” He shot back with a grin. “But I can’t make any guarantees about my other noises either.”

”What?”

”Nothing. Go to sleep. Good night!”

The next morning, Shuichi woke up to the faint light filtering through the tent fabric. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before remembering where he was—huddled in a small tent with Kokichi, who was still sound asleep beside him, curled up with a mischievous smile that hadn’t left his face even in slumber.

The day unfolded like an odd little adventure as Shuichi and Kokichi wandered around the empty city, looking for both food and anything interesting they might stumble upon. After a while, they stumbled upon a small park, its grass overgrown and wild. Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught their eyes. A rabbit, with its soft fur blending into the surroundings, hopped cautiously out from behind a dilapidated wall. Its nose twitched nervously, and for a moment, Shuichi and Kokichi exchanged a glance, excitement lighting up their faces. They crouched low, ready to pounce. But the rabbit was too quick, disappearing into the tangled weeds before they could close the distance.

As they strolled, they took in the odd assortment of debris scattered across the streets: a rusted bicycle leaning against a lamppost, discarded newspapers fluttering like lost thoughts, and a tattered shoe lying forlornly on the sidewalk. They meandered through the city as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. The final beams of sunlight vanished like shy children retreating behind a curtain, and darkness slowly wrapped the city.

Chapter 11: Five of Diamonds 4.2

Summary:

He stood alone, haunted by the faces that should have been there.

Notes:

Sorry if it's short again. 💔💔 I also did a spin-the-wheel for the trio, so I'm sorry if it looked a bit random. I don't honestly remember much about the personalities in DR2 soooo I kinda just winged with it.

Please also tell me if I got any calculations or formulas wrong!! :3

________________________________

As they approached the industrial pressure chamber, the imposing metal door loomed ahead, its surface tarnished with streaks of rust and grime. With a deep breath, Shuichi turned the heavy wheel lock, the door groaning open with an eerie metallic creak. Kokichi, on the other hand, sauntered beside him with a mischievous grin. They stepped inside, the stale, metallic air prickling their senses.

Thick pipes crisscrossed the ceiling, occasionally venting bursts of steam with sharp hisses. When they headed into the main lobby, a lone light pierced the darkness, shining down on the center like a harsh judgment. Beneath its gaze stood three figures, their shapes sharply defined against the light, like actors frozen in place on a darkened stage. The latter exchanged glances before slowly stepping forward and taking a phone from the round table, it quickly recognized them in seconds.

A man with hair the color of sickly bubblegum and a tattered jumpsuit twisted his head to look at them. “You guys don’t seem new to this,” he quipped.

”And you?” Kokichi tilted his head, echoing the sound of a neck snapping.

”The three of us cleared four games together,” a guy in dust blond crew cut hair and a dark pinstripe jacket casually replied. “We happened to be together in our first game, and we kinda stuck together after that.”

Shuichi glanced at him, his eyes zeroing in on the slight hobble in his step. A sprained ankle, it seemed. “...Your leg. Are you injured?”

The man gazed down at his injured ankle before looking back up at him with a guarded expression. “Well spotted,” he grunted, his tone terse. “Yeah, I’ve got a sprained ankle. Got it from our last game... Damn luck wasn’t on our side then.”

”Hey, it’s starting,” Kokichi nudged the latter’s arm.

”REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED.”
-Kazuichi Soda
-Nekomaru Nidai
-Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu
-Shuichi Saihara
-Kokichi Oma
”THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

”DIFFICULTY, FIVE OF DIAMONDS.”
”GAME, ‘PRESSURE POINT.’”

”RULES:”
“GOAL: STABILIZE THE ENVIRONMENT WITHIN ONE HOUR.”
”IF THE CONDITIONS REMAIN UNSTABLE FOR MORE THAN 3 MINUTES, THE CHAMBER WILL LOCK PERMANENTLY, AND THE WALLS WILL CONTRACT TO CRUSH ALL PARTICIPANTS.”

”CLEAR CONDITION: MAINTAIN THE SYSTEM’S PRESSURE (P) AND TEMPERATURE (T) WITHIN SAFE RANGES:”
• P < 250, kPA
• T < 350, K
”NOTE: THERE IS A VENT CONTROL PANEL, GAUGES FOR P, V, AND T, AND A MALFUNCTIONING THERMOSTAT INSIDE THE ROOM.
”GAME START.”

The sands of time started to slip through the hourglass. Stabilize the environment? What does that even mean? How does this…system even work? Shuichi glanced down, and the numbers seemed to flicker erratically, pressure rising and falling in a rhythm he didn’t quite understand. Well, he’ll try to understand. He has to.

Kokichi blinked for a moment before mocking the situation. “So, basically, do math or die? This is almost too easy!”

”Would you stop screwing around, dumbass?” Fuyuhiko glared at the boy who raised his hands in faux surrender. “Focus before we all get flattened!”

”Relaaaaaax,” he placed his hands behind his head causally. “I’m great under pressure. Pfft, get it? Pressure?”

Shuichi kneeled next to the row of worn, rusted gauges, his fingers brushing lightly over the cold metal. His fingers hover near the dials, hesitant but careful, as he reads the measurements. “Okay, we have to monitor pressure, volume, and temperature... If the thermostat’s malfunctioning, we might need to adjust everything manually.”

”Figures,” Kazuichi scoffed, “nothing’s ever simple in a place like this. I’ll check the machinery for issues.”

”This sounds more of a Clubs game than a Diamonds game,” Fuyuhiko commented. The walls emit a low, rumbling groan, the sound like a deep sigh from the very bones of the building itself. They shudder, contracting ever so slightly, as if the structure is holding its breath. “Yeah, I’m keeping my eyes on these walls. If they move too much, we’re toast.”

”We should start by adjusting the vent controls. Kokichi, can you—”

”Already on it, detective!” His lips curled into a sly, moonlit smile, his fingers dancing across the control panel like worms squirming through flesh.

”Wait, don’t just—” Before Shuichi could finish his sentence, a loud hiss of steam erupts violently from the vents, the force of it sending a blast of hot air across the room. The gauges flickered erratically, their needles swinging wildly as the pressure fluctuates unpredictably. “Kokichi! What did you do?!”

”Oh oops, did I do that?” He tucked one arm behind his back and placed his hand over his mouth, as if trying to smother the truth, pretending innocence like a child caught in a lie.

Fuyuhiko threw up an arm to shield his face, cursing under his breath as the heat seared past and the shrill whine of the gauges filled the room. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” he barked, spinning toward Kokichi. “Are you trying to fucking kill us?!”

Kazuichi, coated in grease, hollered from the machinery. “That vent panel’s ancient! If you’re gonna mess with it, at least warn me first!”

”You’d better behave, or I’ll toss you into the next vent myself!” With a swift motion, Nekomaru pointed a finger at Kokichi, the gesture sharp and forceful. His posture was rigid, exuding an unmistakable threat as his glare bore down on the supreme leader.

Kokichi tilted his head to the side, his hands raised in mock surrender, his fingers wiggling playfully. He took a small step back, tapping his chin as if pondering. “Aw, big guy, don’t be mad. I’ll be good. Maybe.”

The detective cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably as he took a deep breath. “Everyone, stop arguing!” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck. “We need to work together...if we’re going to stabilize this.” He glanced over at Kokichi, who was still grinning like he hadn’t heard a word, and at Nekomaru, whose arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

A few minutes later, the group had somewhat settled, though tension still hung in the air. Shuichi was hunched over the console, hands moving rapidly as he tried to make sense of the readings. Kokichi stood near, his grin retreating into the depths of thought.

”Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” Shuichi mumbled, tapping away at the controls. He glanced over his shoulder at Nekomaru, who was still standing at the ready, arms folded tightly. “Uhm, can you check the pressure levels again? It’s fluctuating too much.”

The man gave a grunt but nodded, stepping over to the pressure gauge and squinting at it. He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s unstable, but it’s not gonna blow up anytime soon,” he shot a side glance at him, “unless he decides to mess with it again.”

Kokichi pouted dramatically, putting a hand to his chest as if he were deeply offended. “I’m insulted, big guy! I’m just here to help!”

Shuichi sighed, rubbing his temples. “Please, just...focus. The pressure’s all over the place... It’s fluctuating between 100 and 250 kPa. And the temperature’s spiking above 350K. This isn’t normal,” he inspected the gauges, “we need to figure out the cause of these fluctuations. I think the volume is decreasing too...0.5 m³ per cycle.”

The mechanic fiddled with the thermostat with a thoughtful expression. “And this thing? It’s totally broken. It’s randomly triggering heat surges. We’re gonna need to fix it if we want to maintain the temperature.”

”We’re running out of time. We’ve got to stabilize everything now,” Nekomaru said.

Kokichi crouched near the wall, his fingers prying at a piece of loose plating. With a triumphant tug, the metal panel popped free, revealing a small, dusty control interface hidden behind it. He straightened up, brushing off his hands and grinning as he turned to face the others. “Hey, look at this!” he called out. “I found a vent control panel behind some loose plating!”

“Of course you did,” Fuyuhiko muttered. He glanced at the exposed panel, his brow furrowing. “What is it?” He leaned slightly closer, studying the array of buttons and levers. “If this thing blows up, I’m taking you down with me, you little shit.”

“There’s a keypad…and the numbers 5378 are scratched around it. Think that’s important?” He gestured to the buttons, tapping the edge of the exposed panel.

Shuichi stepped forward, his gaze flicking to the keypad and then back to Kokichi. He nodded, “It’s worth trying. We need every edge we can get.” Without hesitation, he leaned over and began tapping in the numbers. His fingers hesitated for a moment before pressing the final number. There was a faint click, and the vent panel popped open with a soft mechanical hiss. “Got it,” he mumbled, as his eyes scanned the message flashing across the screen. “Now, this message...”

”CORRECT THE EQUATION: PV = nRT. MAINTAIN T < 350K.”

After a moment of silence, Kokichi’s grin widened, and he clasped his hands together. “Ah, the famous Ideal Gas Law!” he declared. “I’m practically a genius. Right, Shuichi?” He tilted his head to the side, as if expecting validation.

”Yeah,” he bobbed his head considerately, “we need to adjust the pressure, volume, and temperature to keep things stable. If we can fix the thermostat and control the pressure with the vents, we might be able to balance it out.”

Kazuichi grumbled to himself, brushing a strand of hair out of his face as he approached the thermostat. “I’m going to work on that thermostat,” he said, his hands already reaching for the control panel. “Hopefully, I can stop it from going haywire...”

“We’ll handle the vents. We can stabilize the volume by adjusting the pressure while keeping an eye on the temperature. It’s a delicate balance.”

After some time, the soft hum of machinery filled the air, but the tension in the room was still palpable. Kazuichi, working diligently on the thermostat, glanced over at Shuichi, wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. “So, uh… Are you actually a detective? You look a little too young to be one.”

Shuichi paused, blinking in surprise. He wasn’t used to casual conversation while working, but he decided to answer. “Oh, well, not really. I’m still in-training…”

”For someone in-training, you’re doing pretty well.” He gave him a thumbs up. “I’m just here to fix stuff. Get my hands dirty and make things run smoothly, you know? It’s simpler that way.”

“I guess we all have our own ways of contributing. It’s important to have someone who knows how to fix things...especially when stuff starts breaking.”

Fuyuhiko, standing nearby, rolled his eyes but couldn’t help himself from adding his two cents. “If you’re asking for advice, Kazuichi, I’d say stop trying to make things sound all...heartfelt. Just fix the damn thermostat before it blows up.”

“I’m working on it, okay?” A breath hissed out of him. “I know what I’m doing.” Nekomaru’s booming laughter followed soon after Kazuichi.

The dynamic was different, but painfully familiar.

His hands faltered on the panel for a moment. He could still hear Kaito’s voice, telling him to believe in himself, to keep moving forward. These weren’t his friends. They were strangers who just happened to form a similar dynamic. His eyes squinted slightly. It wasn’t fair. Kaede and Kaito were supposed to be here. They were supposed to be the ones working alongside him, solving this together. But instead, he was here with a new group, one that didn’t even know him, and it felt wrong to see the souls of his friends in them.

The resemblance was almost cruel.

”Yoo-hoo, detective?” Kokichi’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He was waving his hand in front of his face casually. “Earth to Shuichi! Get back to work!”

”Ah, sorry. I got lost in thought.”

******

The temperature spikes again, causing the room to feel like a sauna. Kazuichi’s hands tremble as he examines the thermostat, sparks flying from the panel. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, gritting his teeth. “This stupid thing is short-circuited! I need to fix it, fast! It’s the only way!”

Shuichi’s eyes darted to the gauges again. The temperature’s creeping dangerously high. They had less than a minute before it could hit critical, and that would be it–an explosion that would tear everything apart. Kokichi is busy adjusting the vent control, but it’s clear they need Kazuichi’s fix to have a real chance.

Kazuichi’s voice tears through the madness, a frenzied command that claws its way to the group. “Just keep those vents steady! I can fix this! I’ve got it!”

Shuichi’s heart leaps in his chest. “Hey, be careful! If the thermostat shorts again, it’ll—”

But before he can finish, Kazuichi is already crawling beneath the panel, his hands fumbling for resources. The room reeks of charred metal and searing plastic, as sparks writhe like diseased insects, twitching in spasms of dying light. The air hangs thick, clinging to skin and lungs, every breath a labor as if the very atmosphere is trying to swallow them whole.

“You sure about this, Kazuichi?” Fuyuhiko yells, his voice having a rare edge of concern. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

The mechanic doesn’t answer him, his focus unbroken. He successfully tears open the panel, revealing the network of sizzling wires underneath. The electrical current flickers violently, as if alive, and Kazuichi mutters under his breath, his voice low and strained. “I just need to reconnect this one… It’ll stabilize the system. I know it.”

His hand hovers above the exposed wire, fingers trembling just slightly. The danger is real, and he knows it. One wrong move, and the shock could kill him. The decision crawls over him like a mass of unseen hands, cold and suffocating, gripping tighter with every moment. The walls seem alive, shifting and closing in. If he didn’t do anything, everyone else would die and he would be at fault. There’s no time to think. There’s no room for hesitation.

If I don’t do this… he thought. ...everything’s for nothing.

The words burrow into him like parasites, feeding on the gravity of the moment until his resolve swells, bloated. He drags in a jagged breath, as fingers close around the wire, and he reconnects it with a swift motion, not allowing himself a moment to second-guess.

Zap!

A jolt of electricity tears through him, like claws raking through his veins. The shock surges without mercy, violent tremors wracking him as though his very nerves are being shredded apart. His limbs jerk and twist unnaturally, every muscle pulled taut as if trying to rip free from his bones. The convulsions wrack him mercilessly, his body flung backward like a lifeless doll before slamming against the floor with a hollow, sickening sound.

The room falls into a stunned silence, the sound of the thermostat humming softly the only thing breaking the heavy stillness. The air clings to him, thick and rancid, like it’s been soaked in the aftermath of something foul and irreversible. Slowly, the temperature stabilizes, the once-dangerous heat slowly dropping to safer levels. The vents, now steady, continue to hiss softly as the balance is restored.

But none of that matters.

Another person just died right before their very eyes. Nekomaru’s breath hitches, his eyes wide, locked on the mechanic’s lifeless form. His legs feel like they’ve turned to lead, rooted to the floor as panic grips his chest. His mouth opens, but no words come out at first. When they do, it’s a strained whisper, “Kazuichi…?”

Fuyuhiko steps forward, his face set in a scowl, but there’s something behind it. Worry, maybe? No, he doesn’t show worry. Not in front of anyone. He kneels down beside Nekomaru, his hand hovering near Kazuichi, and for a moment, Shuichi, watching with wide eyes next to Kokichi, wonders if he’s about to stop him from checking. But Fuyuhiko just mutters under his breath, “Idiot…”

Chapter 12: Five of Diamonds 4.3

Summary:

A jolt will bring us together.

________________________________

”20 MINUTES REMAINING.”

Shuichi felt like the room itself was crushing him, and it wasn’t just the walls closing in. Every time someone fell, it was like a part of him crumbled too. Losing Kaede and Kaito had been a blow to his heart, a gaping wound that he hadn’t known how to heal. But he still had to fight for them. It was like solving a puzzle, only this one demanded more than logic. It demanded survival.

I can’t let anyone die anymore.

The room was tense. Far too tense. He glanced toward Fuyuhiko, who was manning the thermostat, his brows furrowed in concentration. Fuyuhiko wasn’t used to this kind of responsibility, not like this. But then again, none of them were. Nekomaru, too, had calmed, though his large frame still shook with the remnants of exertion. They were all here, alive, in the same room, for now. And that was enough. For now. Suddenly—

”CRITICAL FAILURE IMMINENT. STABILIZE WITHIN THREE MINUTES.”

“What the hell did you do?!” Nekomaru yelled out with asperity.

Fuyuhiko’s face drained of color as his hands hovered above the thermostat, frozen. “Shit–shit! I didn’t mean to—”

The walls creaked and groaned under the straining, the faint grinding of metal growing louder. The pressure in the room spiked violently as the volume decreased even faster than before. It wasn’t just the heat, it was the way everything was closing in on them. And then, there it was–a sharp hiss, like the breath of a dying machine. The temperature had jumped. He’d turned the dial the wrong way. It was too high. Over 400K. The temperature was soaring.

“Damn it!” Fuyuhiko cursed, twisting the thermostat dial frantically. “Why the hell is it moving so fast?! I thought I had it under control!”

“You thought?” Kokichi’s voice rang out mockingly. He was leaning casually against one of the vents, his expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a scowl. “Wow, that’s suuuuuuuper comforting. ‘Thought’ is just another way of saying you guessed and hoped for the best, huh?”

“Shut up, you fucking asshole!” He snapped, his hands still fumbling with the controls. “I don’t need your bullshit right now!”

Nekomaru planted his feet firmly against the floor, bracing his hands against the walls as they pressed inward. His muscles strained as he pushed back, veins bulging with the effort. “Don’t worry about me! Just fix this mess before we’re all pancakes!”

Fuyuhiko’s eyes were wide, but his hands were steady. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he worked quickly to fix the thermostat. The pressure in the room was intensifying, forcing everyone to brace themselves. The volume was decreasing rapidly, not just in the sense of the temperature fluctuating but in a physical way, too. The walls continued to close in, inch by agonizing inch, the pressure building. Shuichi felt it in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. It was all too familiar, like when he had watched the life drain from his friends’ faces when their heads exploded.

Kokichi sighed exasperatedly. “You know, if you screw this up, I’m totally blaming the slightly bald guy. Not that it’ll matter when we’re all squished into a nice little human pancake stack.”

“Kokichi!” Shuichi snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “This isn’t the time—”

“It’s always the time for honesty, Shuichi!” Kokichi’s grin broadened.

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” The latter barked.

Shuichi stepped closer to Fuyuhiko, trying to steady his own nerves as much as the yakuza’s. “You can do this,” he said, his voice oozing like slime yet still urgently. “Just slow down. Think about what you’re doing. We still have time.”

”STABILIZATION REQUIRED WITHIN 90 SECONDS.”

The walls shifted again, faster this time. Shuichi staggered slightly as the floor beneath them seemed to tilt ever so slightly. Nekomaru grunted, his arms shaking as he held the wall back with sheer force. “Any time now!”

Fuyuhiko's hands froze for a split second the weight of the moment crushing him like the walls closing in. The detective could see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear. He had seen that same look before; in Kaede, in Kaito. He twisted the dial sharply, and for a moment, nothing happened. The temperature continued to climb, the walls grinding closer, the air growing impossibly heavy. Then, with a sudden, jarring clunk, the thermostat’s display flickers, and the temperature begins to drop.

Then, a click. A soft, almost imperceptible sound. Fuyuhiko’s hand slammed down on the final button, his fingers trembling. For a brief moment, nothing happened. The walls continued to contract, the temperature still hovering dangerously high. But then…the systems hummed. The walls halted their movement. The pressure began to ease, just slightly. The temperature finally began to stabilize.

”STABILIZATION COMPLETE.”

A low hum filled the room as the thermostat came back online, the temperature dropping back to a safer level. Nekomaru let out a deep breath, leaning heavily against the now-still wall. “Hah! I knew you’d pull it off, Fuyuhiko!”

He staggered back from the thermostat, his hands trembling as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, well…it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

Shuichi collapsed against the wall, his legs threatening to give out from under him. He let out a relieved sigh, “Well, you did your best. You fixed it. That’s what matters.”

But even so, the walls continued to contract slowly. The timer was still ticking down. Less than 20 minutes. The once-mercifully slow contraction of the room had sped up, and the oppressive heat made every breath feel labored. The walls weren’t just closing; they were encroaching with purpose, as if alive and intent on crushing them. The metallic floor gleamed with a faint sheen of water dripping from the vents above. It wasn’t much at first, just an occasional drop splashing against the ground. But as the thermostat’s settings continued to glitch and malfunction, the humidity rose sharply, and the steady drip evolved into small puddles forming beneath their feet.

Nekomaru stepped forward first, his face stern as he took in the movement of the walls. His massive frame loomed in the room, his arms bulging with muscle. He noticed the water pooling and quickly stepped into action, positioning himself between the two walls with a determined expression. His body, a monument of strength, was the only thing capable of holding them at bay, if only for a moment. “Don’t waste time arguing! I’ll keep these things back. Just fix the damn vents before we’re all squashed!”

”What?!” Shuichi’s voice cracked. “The walls–they’re… they’re reacting to the pressure changes! If you- if you put too much force—”

“I don’t need a lecture!” Nekomaru cut him off with a strained grin. “Just trust me, alright?!”

With a grunt, he pressed his hands and shoulders against the two encroaching walls. His massive frame trembled as he absorbed the weight, his muscles straining under the relentless pressure. It was working, barely. The walls slowed, no longer grinding forward with the same vicious speed.

But the water. Oh, the water.

Kokichi’s gaze darted down with an unreadable expression on his face. The water was climbing, spreading across the floor in jagged, uneven patterns. The exposed wires from earlier repairs lay dangerously close, some already sparking faintly. “Uh, hate to ruin the ‘heroic sacrifice’ thing you’ve got going on, but has anyone noticed we’re about to turn this place into a giant toaster?” He gestured dramatically to the growing puddle and crackling wires. “I mean, I’d hate to see someone as big and strong as you go out like that, but hey, your call!”

“SYSTEM DESTABILIZATION DETECTED. TEMPERATURE RISING. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.”

“Dammit,” Fuyuhiko hissed, his sharp eyes flicking between his remaining friend and the wires. “We need to reroute the power now, or this place is gonna fry us all.”

Shuichi’s fingers fumbled as he tried to reconfigure the settings on the thermostat. His mind churned, a writhing mass of tangled, squirming possibilities. Sadly, time wasn’t on their side. The walls groaned again, and Nekomaru let out a strained shout as they pushed harder against him. His shoes skidded slightly on the slick floor, his footing faltering. “I’ve got this!” he roared, more to himself than anyone else. “Don’t stop working!”

The moment was painfully brief. A sharp, hissing sound filled the air as one of the exposed wires connected with the rising water. Electricity surged, violently dancing across the puddles and climbing up Nekomaru’s legs. His entire body jerked as the current coursed through him, his muscles spasming uncontrollably.

“Nekomaru!” Fuyuhiko shouted, his voice raw. He instinctively reached out but froze, knowing any contact would only make things worse.

The man flinched, the jolt visibly traveling through him. He staggered, but he didn’t let go of the walls. “I- I can hold it Don’t...waste this chance!”

“Fuck, you’re getting electrocuted!” Fuyuhiko yelled provocatively.

“Then f- fix it faster!

Shuichi’s hands shook as he worked, Kokichi suddenly leaned in beside him blankly. “Hey, detective. You’d better not mess this up. I kinda like living.”

The words snapped Shuichi into focus. He adjusted the settings, his fingers flying over the controls, while Fuyuhiko rushed to reroute the power. The robotic voice counted down the seconds. The temperature was stabilizing, but too slowly. Another spark jumped through the water, and this time, Nekomaru collapsed to one knee. His body spasmed, his hands slipping from the walls. His face twisted in pain, but through clenched teeth, he managed one last shout.

“KEEP GOING!”

The light in Nekomaru’s eyes dimmed as his body slumped forward, the smell of burnt ozone filling the air. The walls groaned but slowed, the system finally stabilizing just as the timer hit its final seconds. Shuichi stared, his mind blank with shock. Kokichi let out a low whistle, his usual playfulness muted. “Well...that was shocking.”

“Shut up,” Fuyuhiko snapped, “Jjst shut the hell up.”

The pressure was still dangerously high, and the air felt thick, suffocating. It wasn’t just the system threatening to crush them. It was the pressure of having to solve everything, to make sure no one else died. He still had to get to the Mark of the City. That’s what they would’ve wanted.

Was this how it always ended? People died and left their marks on him, and all he was left with was guilt, frustration, and helplessness. Shuichi's hands clenched involuntarily, his nails digging into his palms.

Focus.

This wasn’t about them anymore. This was about the people still standing, still fighting, still trying to survive. He glanced at Fuyuhiko, his brow furrowed in concentration. The man was watching the gauges, his posture tense. The walls are contracting, the heat rising. His gaze shifted to Kokichi, who was carefully adjusting the vent sliders, his face showing an unusual level of seriousness. For a second, he almost questioned whether Kokichi was taking it seriously at all. But there was no time to dwell on that.

He turned back to the thermostat and the damaged wires in front of him. His hands moved without thought, as if the motions were being carried out by someone else, a person who didn’t question the weight of every decision. His eyes locked onto the equation in his mind. P = nRT/V, he had to make it work. He had to make sure the gas released at the right rate, fix the thermostat to prevent any more spikes in temperature, and keep the pressure in check. And then, as the pieces clicked together in his mind, the realization came like a bucket of cold water dropped on him.

It was actually pretty simple.

”Shuichi, you’ve been staring at that panel like it’s gonna solve itself. You got a plan or what?” Kokichi’s voice broke through his thoughts.

He blinked, the fog lifting from his mind. He nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ve got it,” he turned to him, “Kokichi, adjust the vent sliders to release gas at a rate of 0.05 cubic meters per second. Don’t let it fluctuate.” Kokichi gave a mock salute, but his focus was sharp as he moved to the vent controls. Then his gaze shifted to the other man, “I need you to monitor the gauges. Let me know when the pressure starts to approach 200 kPa.”

Fuyuhiko shot him a sharp look but nodded, stepping over to the gauges. “Don’t screw this up, detective.” The numbers on the thermostat were climbing again–350K... 360K... It’s too high. It’ll cause a meltdown. But before Shuichi could panic, he shouted from the corner. “Pressure’s hitting 240 kPa! It’s too much! Shit, what do we do?!”

P = nRT/V. Pressure too high, temperature too high... volume too low... we need to stabilize them all at the same time.

“Keep adjusting the gas release rate!” Shuichi barked. “Kokichi, now!” And he was already on it, his hands moving to the vent control panel, quickly typing in the code he had found earlier, 5378. The moment he hit enter, the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. A slow hiss followed by a deeper, steady hum. The gas began to release in controlled bursts, the pressure starting to stabilize.

”Fuck! We’re running out of time!” Fuyuhiko hollered out, glancing at the pressure gauge. It was still rising, inching dangerously close to the point of no return.

But Shuichi was already moving faster now. Adjust the gas...fix the thermostat...balance the equation. His hands were a blur as he finished his work on the thermostat, the sparks finally stopping, the temperature beginning to stabilize. The temperature started to drop. The pressure began to hold steady. “Okay, it’s working!”

“It’s holding steady at 200 kPa...and the temperature’s back to 330K.” But the walls–those cursed walls–hadn’t stopped moving. They were still closing in. The temperature was stabilizing, but it wasn’t enough. The walls kept moving, and every inch they closed brought the death sentence closer. The equation in his mind shifted like a puzzle, just out of reach.

Shuichi’s fingers found the vent controls, and he adjusted them once more, pushing the gas release rate higher, just slightly, but it was more than enough. The pressure began to steady at 200 kPa, and the temperature dropped to a tolerable 325K. The room shuddered, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. But the walls weren’t stopping. They were still inching toward him, unforgiving. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he turned to Kokichi. “Release more gas, faster! We’re almost there!”

The gas began to flow more rapidly, and the pressure slowly began to balance itself out. But it wasn’t enough to stop the walls from closing in, from crushing them all alive. “Shit! We can’t keep this up forever! The gas will run out!” Fuyuhiko’s eyes flicked from the gauges to the walls and back again. “We need more time!”

More time. The equation…

5378

It wasn’t just a code. It was a failsafe, a way to unlock the final part of the system. There was something more to the vent control than just adjusting the gas release rate.

“Kokichi!” Shuichi shouted. “The code you found–it’s not just for the gas release! It’s to trigger the final vent override! Input it again, but this time hold it down!”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t question. His fingers slammed against the keypad, entering the code again. As soon as he held down the last digit, the sound that followed was like the hiss of a long, tortured breath being released. A grinding, mechanical whir echoed through the chamber, and Shuichi felt the temperature in the room dip ever so slightly.

The walls paused in their relentless advance, then shifted. Slowly. Imperceptibly. They stopped moving.

The detective’s legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor, breathless, exhausted. “It...it worked. It actually worked.” For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe.

”GAME CLEAR.”
”CONGRATULATIONS, ULTIMATE DETECTIVE.”

As the final door clicked open, a heavy silence fell over them. Fuyuhiko limped away, his movements uneven but steady as he headed elsewhere. Shuichi stared after him, hesitation tightening in his chest before he called out, “Hey, wait! Where are you going? Your ankle... I mean, it’s not healed yet.“

Fuyuhiko glanced down at his foot, a small, dismissive grunt escaping his lips. “It’s fine. Don’t act like I’m some fragile little thing.” He gave a half-smirk, though the pain was clear in his eyes. “I’ll be okay. You two, though...you’ve got your own path ahead of you.” He paused, then added with a genuine look, “I hope I see you both again. Alive, preferably.” Without waiting for a reply, Fuyuhiko turned and continued forward, his figure gradually swallowed by the dim light of the corridor.

Shortly, Shuichi turned to Kokichi. “You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?”

Kokichi raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in mock confusion. “Promise? Hmm...I make so many, detective. You’ll have to be more specific!”

His narrowed his eyes. “The Mark of the City. You said you’d take me there after this game.”

“Oh, that promise!” Kokichi dramatically gasped, slapping a hand to his forehead. “I thought you’d forgotten, too. Guess you’re not as scatterbrained as you look. But fine, I’ll take you there in the morning. You’ve earned it.

“Tomorrow morning,” He repeated, nodding, “alright.”

Chapter 13: Four of Clubs 5.1

Summary:

People are whispering. The scene is like the falling of small rocks before a severe landslide.

Notes:

Summary is a line from Reverse: 1999!! (Unrelated but Anjo Nala finally came home! >▽<) Also, welcome to the Mark of the City!! We hope you enjoy your stay.

Also, I'm changing the game. It ain't gonna be Distance. 😈

________________________________

The Mark of the City was where dreams died and promises lived.

The detective stared out at the faint light of dawn creeping over the horizon. The Mark of the City was more than a destination. It was a promise he made to Kaito, a dream Kaede never got to see. If he stopped now, if he turned back, it would be as if they never mattered. The wind brushed against his face, cold and sharp, like they were combing his hair.

Everyone is crazy.

Kokichi’s words played in his mind over and over. Was that really true? What if the place was full of people who had lost themselves to the madness, people who wouldn’t hesitate to tear him apart if it meant survival? Maybe he was just exaggerating, playing games with people’s minds like he always did so. But still, Shuichi couldn’t ignore the unease in his gut. What kind of place would drive people mad like that?

For as long as he could remember, there had always been questions–too many unanswered, too many that clawed at him in the dark corners of his mind. The Borderlands. The twisted games they were forced to play. Why? What was the point of all of this? The question had lived inside him since the first game, since the first life lost, and it had never stopped haunting him. But what if the answers were so twisted, so impossible to grasp, that they would break him, too?

“Kokichi,” Shuichi began quietly, shaking his head lightly to brush off unnecessary thoughts, “are you ready to leave?”

The supreme leader, leaning casually against a tree, grinned. “Ready? I’ve been ready since you begged me to take you there.”

”Begged? I think you’re remembering things a little differently.” He crossed his arms, letting out an exasperated huff. “But...I guess you’re right. I asked for your help. Are you sure you know the way?”

The journey to the Mark of the City wasn’t something he’d taken lightly. Kokichi had seemed too eager for it, and that unsettled him even more. He laughed a little, the kind that sounded more like a chuckle than anything reassuring. “Of course I do! I know everything. Don’t you worry your cute little head, Shuichi.” He stretched, raising his arms to the back of his head, as if to emphasize the point. “If you’re scared, you can hold my hand. I don’t mind.”

Shuichi rolled his eyes, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction despite himself. “I’m not scared,” he said firmly, but his words lacked the conviction he’d hoped for. “I just…need to know that we’re not walking into a trap.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. The only trap here is your mind.” His tone was teasing but oddly sincere. “But that’s why you’ve got me, right? I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. Or, you know, at least I’ll make sure it’s fun.”

He let out a slow breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the morning sky. The streets seemed to stretch endlessly before them as Kokichi led the way, his steps light and almost playful, like he was taking them on a scenic tour rather than leading them toward something ominous. As they approached the Mark of the City, Shuichi’s mind raced with doubts, his steps slowing the closer they got. From the street, all Shuichi could see were darkened windows and forgotten alleys. The city still looked as if it had been abandoned for so long.

Shuichi hadn’t expected much of the Shibuya Mark City shopping mall, it was just another looming landmark in the middle of the city, after all. But now that they were standing right in front of it, it felt different.

He froze for a moment, taking in the scene. “Wait... This...this is the Mark of the City?”

The Mark of the City, the destination he’d been led to, wasn’t some otherworldly location. It was right here, in the heart of Shibuya, hidden in plain sight. The empty streets outside made it hard to piece it all together, but now, as the building stood above him with all its lights bursting to life, the truth slowly clicked in place.

“Oh, you finally got it?” Kokichi teased, almost smug. “This is it. The Mark of the City. Bet you didn’t expect it to be this place, huh? It’s been here all along, right under your nose.” He laughed, low like a note in a cello’s long throat. “Well, maybe you already did. You are a detective, after all.”

Shuichi blinked, still processing. He had expected some grand, alien place, something that didn’t feel like this. But standing here, in front of the glowing building, he realized how...obvious it was. The Mark of the City wasn’t a distant location or a place tucked away from reality. It was part of the city itself, hidden in the hustle and bustle, only visible to those who knew where to look. “I didn’t think it would be...here. It’s hard to imagine that this place is so much more than just a shopping mall.”

Kokichi smirked, nodding his head. “Yup. Welcome to the real Mark of the City.” He gave the detective a sly look. “Ready to see what’s inside? I told you, it’s not what you’re expecting.”

As they crossed the threshold, Shuichi expected the usual emptiness of the mall to stretch before him, but instead, his eyes widened in shock. The mall was bustling with people. Hundreds of them. But none of them were the kind of people Shuichi expected to see. Some moved quickly, others more slowly, but they all seemed absorbed in their own world. Overall, there was life.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea. The place was so...ordinary. The people here were not like the ones he’d seen in the games or even the empty streets outside. They were talking, laughing, browsing store windows, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening at all.

“Kokichi…,” he started as he glanced around, “these people... how can they be so...normal? Don’t they know what’s going on here? Don’t they realize the games they’re being forced into? How can they be so...happy?”

The supreme gave him a sideways glance, his grin not faltering. “Oh, Shuichi,” he said, stretching his arms out as if the answer were simple. “They know exactly what’s going on, but they’re not exactly like you and me, are they?” He chuckled, though there was a strange note to it. “Don’t overthink it. You’re in the Mark of the City now. These people, they’ve got a different mindset. No need to go getting all paranoid.”

Shuichi opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything more—

”Kokichi!”

A woman, tall and unapologetically bold, with platinum blonde hair strutted toward them, her face sharp and impatient.

”You’re fuckin’ late,” she snapped with her hands on her hips. “And here I thought you’d at least try to show up on time for the council, ya jackass.” Her blue eyes flicked to Shuichi for a brief moment, then back to Kokichi, sizing him up with a look that made Shuichi feel uncomfortable. “Who’s this loser?”

Kokichi, unbothered as ever, threw a casual arm over his head and smiled. “Oh, just a little tag-along. No big deal. He’s looking for answers. But don’t mind him. He’s new here. A bit of a square, if you ask me.”

He looked between Kokichi and the woman, still a bit stunned by the sudden interruption. He hadn’t expected anyone else to show up so quickly, let alone someone so...intense. “I...I didn’t mean to intrude,” he interjected awkwardly, taking a step back. “I’m just—”

“Whatever,” the woman cut him off, waving her hand dismissively. “We don’t have time for introductions. Kokichi, seriously, you need to get going. The council’s not gonna wait forever. They’re already complainin’.” Her gaze redirected back to the detective. “You—” she paused as if deciding something. “Stay here. Don’t go wandering off. We’ll be back soon.”

“A little rough around the edges, huh? Don’t mind her. Let’s go, Shuichi. This’ll be fun. I’ll show you the ropes.” Kokichi laughed enthusiastically.

As Shuichi was pulled along, his mind began to race with questions. What council? Kokichi’s part of a council? He hadn’t known anything about Kokichi being involved in something like that. It didn’t make sense. But then again, he called himself the Ultimate ‘Supreme Leader’... And who was this woman, anyway? She seemed to know Kokichi, but her attitude–so bossy and dismissive–left him more confused than ever. Was she an ally? A rival? Or someone in between?

Kokichi smirked and leaned toward Shuichi, his voice dropping to a conspiration whisper. “Alright, now listen up, Shuichi. Let me introduce you to the one and only Miu Iruma, labeled the Ultimate Inventor.” He gestured toward the woman with an exaggerated flourish, as though presenting a prize. “She’s...how should I put it? A genius,” he dragged the word out with mock sincerity. “And by ‘genius,’ I mean she thinks she’s a genius, but it’s mostly just her big mouth and her weird inventions. Don’t get me wrong, her inventions sometimes work...but, uh...well, let’s just say her ‘creativity’ isn’t always safe.”

“Says the guy who can’t even find his way out of a paper bag. At least I don’t need to rely on lies and bullshit to get by,” Miu barked, “unlike you, I actually create things that matter. You wouldn’t know anything about that though, huh, dickwad?”

Kokichi rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Does it look like I care? You should stop making such dumbass comments and keep your smelly breath in your dirty mouth.”

”Heeeee! You—! You termite-infested bastard! You can’t just say shit like that to a lady!” Miu whined, stomping a foot. “Besides, I bet your breath smells like a rotting sewer!”

“Oh, I know it does. But at least mine doesn’t smell like a wet dog and an unwiped ass.” He made a show of dramatically waving a hand in front of his face. “Ugh, seriously, Miu, when was the last time you brushed your teeth? Feels like I’m inhaling straight-up chemical waste.”

Before she could counter, Kokichi grabbed Shuichi’s wrist and started dragging him along. “Alright, that’s enough fun for today. We don’t have time to stand here listening to a walking health hazard complain,” he shot Miu a teasing grin over his shoulder, “see ya later, stink-bomb~!”

Miu’s frustrated shout echoed behind them, but Kokichi didn’t seem to care. He dragged Shuichi further down the hall, laughing to himself as he hummed a random tune. The latter stumbled a bit, not expecting the sudden rush. “Kokichi, wait, where are we—”

“Shh! I’ll give you the grand tour in a bit, but first, we gotta get to the meeting before Miu finds a way to blow something up again. Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this place in full. You have no idea what’s in store for you, Shuichi.”

Shuichi tried to pull his wrist free, but Kokichi’s grip was tight, almost too tight. They passed by a few stores, each one having a lesser crowd than the last. He glanced around, but his thoughts were interrupted as Kokichi led him into a room at the far end of the corridor. He slammed the doors open as they approached abruptly, revealing a sleek, sterile-looking space with a large round table in the center and several chairs around it.

Before he could say anything, Kokichi pushed him toward an empty seat and plopped down himself with a loud thud, throwing his arms back and crossing his legs. He looked completely at ease in the room of strangers. Shuichi reluctantly took a seat, feeling the eyes of the group turn to him, but not in a welcoming way. They were...waiting.

Although, not entirely strangers, he encountered one of them before, right? The girl in short black hair and a blank expression. His mind briefly flashed back to the encounter they’d had before, in the Tag game, when he hadn’t even known who she really was.

Kokichi turned to the other person who sat next to him, a woman with lavender hair, beaming up as he gestured to Shuichi. “Kyoko, Kyoko, look! I found another detective like you! Isn’t that so cool?”

The woman–Kyoko, apparently–barely spared Kokichi a glance, before shifting her piercing violet eyes to Shuichi, scanning him. Her gaze alone made him sit up straighter. “You’re a detective?”

Shuichi swallowed, feeling like he was already being evaluated. “I’m still in training,” he admitted quickly, “I wouldn’t call myself a full detective yet.”

Kyoko gave a small nod, as if that answer was exactly what she expected. “I see,” she didn’t say anything else, simply watching him with that same unreadable expression. “Patience is key. Don’t rush things.” Then, without another word, she turned her attention back to the table, clearly dismissing the conversation as if it was nothing more than a passing thought. She folded her hands neatly on the table, signaling the end of her interest in him.

Shuichi shifted in his seat, unsure of what to do with his hands. The conversation around him continued, but it felt like everyone was speaking a language he didn’t quite understand. The council members didn’t seem to care much for his presence, and the chatter that filled the room was completely unrelated to the reason he had even come here.

“I still think the lighting in the west wing is far too dim,” a voice from the far side of the table remarked. It was a woman with hair as blue as the ocean. He wasn’t sure who she was, but she seemed far more invested in her point than anything else. “We can’t have our people tripping over themselves, can we?”

A man with blond hair and a pair of glasses replied flatly. “The lighting’s fine. You’re just overthinking it, as usual.”

“Overthinking?” she retorted, leaning forward slightly. “I’m just making sure everything runs smoothly. You could learn a thing or two from my attention to detail.”

“And you could learn to shut up once in a while,” he fired back.

The woman with ocean-blue hair leaned forward, her hands pressed lightly on the table as she fixed her eyes on the man with blonde hair and glasses. “You really think that’s the best approach, do you? I’m telling you, the lighting isn’t ideal. It’s important to consider the little details, especially when it comes to atmosphere.”

The blond sighed heavily, barely looking up from whatever book he was reading. “You’ve been obsessing over this for weeks. The lighting’s fine. If you keep this up, you’ll start rearranging the whole building.”

“And that wouldn’t be a bad thing, now, would it?” she shot back, “I just want things to be perfect, Byakuya. It’s a shame not everyone shares that same level of commitment.”

Shuichi could feel his discomfort rising as he watched the argument escalate. It was clear that this wasn't going to end anytime soon, and he didn’t know how to jump into a conversation that seemed so...offbeat. He was about to glance away, when suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room.

With a loud crash, a woman with disheveled yet somehow fixed blonde hair slammed her glass of something vibrant and red onto the table. The glass shattered with a loud pop, sending a jagged spray of broken shards across the surface. The pieces scattered across the table, some rolling off the edge onto the floor, but she didn’t seem to care.

“ORDER! ORDER!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the arguing like a sharpened knife, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU IDIOTS!!”

Everyone at the table froze, startled by her sudden outburst. Even the formers who argued fell silent, their arguments hanging in the air unfinished.

The woman’s smile grew wider, almost too wide, as she fixed her wild eyes on the entire room. “God, you people are so fucking annoying! Can’t we go five minutes without hearing you bicker like a bunch of schoolchildren?” She reached down, swiping a napkin across the table and casually wiping away the shards of glass with a nonchalance.

She stretched her arms above her head lazily, her eyes shifting toward the group, scanning each one in turn. “Alright, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about the plan,” she said, her tone suddenly taking on a more businesslike edge. “I was thinking we could—” Her eyes landed on Shuichi, and she froze for a second, narrowing her gaze. It was almost as if she had just noticed him sitting there, quietly in the corner of the room, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. “Oh-ho! A new face!!” she exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the table for emphasis. “Who brought you here, huh?”

”Meeee! I did! It’s really simple, actually. My buddy here and I made a little deal. He gave me exactly what I needed, and in return, I promised to bring him to the Mark of the City. And here we are!” He gestured dramatically to the room around them. “Isn’t that right, Shuichi?”

”Yeah...that’s about right.” He mumbled, unsure whether to be relieved or even more awkward by the attention.

”A deal, huh?" she smiled, clearly intrigued. “You don’t see many people making deals with Kokichi and walking away unscathed. This oughta be fun. I assume you want answers? About the Borderlands?”

It was true, he really had come here for answers. He’d hoped to uncover something, anything, about the Borderlands, something that might give him clarity about this strange place he found himself in. He cleared his throat, “Well, yes. I need to know what I’m involved in. I’ve heard this place has the answers to my questions. What is this game? Where is everybody?”

“We have the answers that you are looking for,” she stepped up onto the table, her heels clicking sharply on the wood, her eyes never leaving him as she looked down on him. The height and the intensity of her gaze made him instinctively shrink back. “Welcome to the oasis known as the Mark of the City.” She raised one hand dramatically and snapped her fingers. “Here is the first answer!”

Shuichi's eyes darted to the large wooden wall she pointed to, the followers pushed it aside. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the sight of a deck of cards marked off with ‘X’s, save for a select few. The sight made his head spin.

He blinked rapidly, his eyes darting between the cards. “What… What is this?”

“Allow me to enlighten you, ” her heels clicked against the polished surface as she strode to the end of the table, where her chair was. With an exaggerated kick, she sent it sliding away, only to move toward the card display. She stretched out her arms as if presenting the greatest discovery. “These cards… These cards are the only way to end your nightmare. To clear the game, you must collect all the cards.”

“Collect all the cards…?” He repeated, his eyebrows furrowed. “If we collect all the cards, will the world we once knew return?”

She slowly turned toward him, a twisted smile curling on her lips. “It’s not the world that will return. Only one person…can return to the normal world. Do you understand now? One person–just one–gets to leave. The rest of you will stay behind.”

”... Only…one?”

Her smile grew wider, almost predatory. “It’s impossible for one person to clear all the games and collect all 52 cards,” she continued, sighing exaggeratedly, “they could not do this alone. That’s suicide.” She stepped closer to the wall, her heels clicking on the floor with each step. “That’s why we’ve united as one in order to allow one person to leave. That is the Mark of the City’s objective. From now on, let’s play together! United, as one! And collect all the remaining cards together!”

”...What if I say no?”

”You can’t say no! You’re involved in that now, silly!”

His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. “So if I help you, you’re saying we can end the games? Will this be over?”

The blonde hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her chin. “Can’t answer that for certain. But there are indications that it’s possible,” she glanced over her shoulder at the others in the room, “everyone in this room, long before you entered the game, has been searching this country.”

”’This country’...?”

“Truth Bullets have been issued, therefore, this is a country,” she started pacing again, her tone picking up a fevered energy, “it seems that the people of Tokyo haven’t disappeared like we have. We wonder, have we been transported somehow to another country? If we have, there must be a way to return!”

The woman with the gentle, almost innocent smile, who was the same person who argued with the other, chimed in with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. “So together, all of us built this small organization. Electricity is produced from a fuel-powered generator, and we use rainwater for our water supply.”

She grinned at the mention of their setup. “We got firearms from the living and the dead. However, only a select few of us are allowed to use them.”

The same blunt man from earlier cleared his throat, flat and unamused. “Our aim here is to unite and collect all the cards together.”

“And in this…paradise, the Mark of the City, we only have two rules,” she held up two fingers, her smile stretching across her face as she turned back to Shuichi. “Rule 1: all cards are the Mark’s property. That means all the cards you’ve collected, we’ll hang onto for safekeeping. The day when the Mark’s brothers and sisters can leave this country is fast approaching!”

Shuichi bit his lip, his stomach churning. “...And when exactly will that be? And…what if I refuse to join?”

Her smile didn’t waver, though she paused for a moment before speaking once more. “Well, there’s rule 2. The last one.” She raised a finger, her voice suddenly colder. “Death to all traitors.” Her grin returned, but it was anything but warm. “Buuuut who in their crazy mind would betray the amazing Mark of the City?! Everyone’s free to drown in alcohol, get high on drugs, and have sex as much as they want. Enjoying life while they still can. Another thing, all keys and locks have been destroyed and thrown away. So there are no secrets,” she paused, her eyes turning steely, ”but those who do betray us…the Mark shows no mercy.”

Shuichi sat still, staring blankly at the card wall behind her. He swallowed hard. Did he have a choice? If he refused to join, what would happen? Would they kill him right here? Was that even a real threat, or just a scare tactic? The Mark shows no mercy, kept replaying in his head.

“Ohhh, you’re thinking real hard, huh? Gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up, emo boy,” she suddenly threw her head back and laughed, loud and wild, like the whole situation was the funniest thing in the world. “Ahhh, shit! You don’t even know who the fuck I am, do you? Well! Since you’re so desperate for answers, let’s start with the most important one—me!”

”I am Junko fuckin’ Enoshima!” she declared ecstatically, “labeled the Ultimate Despair, ruler of this little shithole, and the bitch in charge!”

Notes:

'How is Junko still the Ultimate Despair if she's arranging a utopia that's basing more on hope than despair itself?'

Honestly, I don't have a solid explanation for that. I just thought Hatter's role would fit her 💔. But since Ultimate labels base on who you were before the Borderlands, Junko used to cause despair all over, receiving her title. And when she entered the Borderlands, she decides to lead an organization where people will worship the ground she steps on. Sadly, mindless people these days focus on hope to escape rather than to suffer in despair. And a trait I'd like to headcanon Junko with, is that she enjoys the feeling of others following and being influenced by her. Anything to be worshipped as a God I guess.

But idk, I'm just yapping.🤷‍♀️

***

'Why is Miu looking for Kokichi but not going to the council with him?'

She's not part of it. She's, like, an honorary member. She's the one who contributed the most to help make the Mark of the City's setup.

Chapter 14: Four of Clubs 5.2

Summary:

Weekdays, holidays, back to back days! Everyday you're a mess.

Notes:

How would you guys feel if I snuck in fanganronpa characters here in future chapts??? :>

Chapter summary is a lyric from 'Brain Revolution Girl' by MARETU (English translation)!!

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Death to all traitors.

What did he just get himself into? Shuichi sat on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazed at the floor. The Mark of the City’s council–or the Mark, as they called themselves–let him stay inside one of the small empty stores, which was now turned and arranged into a guest room. Before he left earlier, Junko demanded to give him all the cards he collected. And with every eye latched on him like starving rats on exposed bone, he handed him her cards. She was ecstatic to see that he carried the Seven of Hearts, one of the cards they were missing. Shortly after, she shoo-ed him out and sent him to this room. Thankfully, Kokichi said that he’ll see him again later.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The walls around him were once lined with shelves, now stripped bare. The room was small, but it was better than sleeping out in the open. Still, he felt trapped. Though, sitting here wouldn’t do him any good. If he was going to be stuck in this place, he needed to understand it. Needed to see what he was dealing with. Besides, he had time to kill before Kokichi returned, and he had no intention of spending it in this cramped room.

Deciding to get a better look at the so-called oasis, Shuichi left the room and stepped out into the mall’s open halls. He walked forward without any real direction, his gaze drifting over the abandoned storefronts and the people who now called this place home. The place was barely recognizable as a shopping center anymore. Tents and makeshift homes lined the walkways, patched together with old tarps and whatever scraps people could find. Some stores had been completely emptied out, their windows smashed and looted long ago, while others had been repurposed into communal spaces. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed the approaching figure, until he collided with them. The impact was solid, jolting him back to reality. He stumbled back a step, blinking in surprise. The person he’d bumped into barely moved, standing firm as if the collision had meant nothing. Then, as Shuichi’s gaze lifted, recognition hit him like a second impact.

A girl with long brown hair tied into low twintails, her crimson eyes sharp and cold. He had encountered her before during the Tag game, he remembered. Back then, she had been a competitor, one of the many scrambling to survive, same as that other member in the Mark. Though that short black haired woman was the same, another acquaintance in the game, but the girl who stood before him–he witnessed her assisstance.

”... You,” she pointed, leaning her head to the side slightly as if sizing him up. “Didn’t think I’d see you again. Much less here.”

Shuichi blinked, struggling to find his words. “Um, I guess I am.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How the hell did you end up here?”

He hesitated. “You…knew about the Mark of the City?”

“Obviously,” her tone was clipped, like she thought it was a stupid question, “but you don’t look like someone who’d be involved with them.”

“I could say the same about you,” he shot back, unable to hide his confusion, “you’re part of this?”

”I was brought in right after the Tag game ended. I just joined shortly after everything went to hell,” she sighed, “how’d you end up here?

“How did I…? Well, I was led here by Kokichi, actually,” he explained, though his voice faltered slightly at the mention of the weird boy who had been responsible for bringing him in. “He…said he could help me find answers.”

”Kokichi? You mean that guy with the purple hair and boring checkered clothes?”

”Uh, yeah, that’s him,” he scratched the back of his neck, surprised at the blunt description, “he’s definitely hard to miss.”

For the rest of the free time, Shuichi spent it with the athlete who helped him with the Tag game, Maki Harukawa, labeled as the Ultimate Assassin–which was slightly concerning… He still wasn’t sure what to make of her. She was quiet, blunt, and had this unnerving air of detachment. They didn’t talk much at first, just wandered through the Mark of the City, taking in the sights. The place was surprisingly lively. People lounged around in small groups, chatting and laughing like they weren’t trapped in a death game. A few were playing cards (not the prize ones), gambling with whatever currency they had come up with. Others drank, their faces flushed as they cheered over something ridiculous. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he had just stumbled into an underground club.

Eventually, Maki broke the silence. “So? What do you think?”

Shuichi hummed thoughtfully. “About what?”

”This place,” she gestured vaguely to their surroundings, “the Mark of the City.”

He hesitated. “It’s…a lot to take in.”

“This all seems kind of like a dream. This relaxed atmosphere… I’ve never experienced it in the previous world.” She gave a quiet hum, crossing her arms as they walked. “It’s excessive escapism. They're flocking to a place where they can turn an eye to uneasiness and fear.”

Shuichi followed her gaze. He saw people talking like old friends, sharing drinks, and laughing too loudly. It felt forced. Artificial. He sighed. “I guess it makes sense. Everyone here has most likely experienced it too. Numerous moments of despair.” She nodded slightly in response but didn’t add anything. He kickied at a loose tile on the floor. “Do you trust them?”

“The Mark?” Maki asked. “No.”

That answer was immediate.

Shuichi looked at her, surprised by how easily she admitted it. “Then why are you here?”

She stared ahead for a moment, her eyes hard, as if calculating the right words to use. Finally, she answered flatly. “It was either playing another game or looking for something useful. Information. Something that could give me leverage.” She shook her head. “I’m not here for their petty little distractions. If there’s information to be found, I’ll take it.”

“I’m looking for answers as well,” he admitted timidly, “something to help me understand what’s going on here. What this place even is. I need to know more. Anything that could explain why I’m stuck in this game.”

She shot him a quick glance. “You won’t get answers here unless you search for them. No one’s just going to hand it to you.”

“I figured as much,” he huffed, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “but I can’t help feeling like I’m being watched. Everyone here has a different agenda.”

“That’s the game. Figure it out yourself. Or don’t. It’s your choice.” Her lips barely twitched as she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

He eyed at her. “You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.”

“It’s common sense,” she raised one shoulder, ”you should’ve figured it out by now.”

“I guess,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He faltered before responding, ”what did you do before all this? Before the Borderlands?”

Her expression didn’t change, but she took a second before answering. “You already know, don’t you? The whole ‘Ultimate Assassin’ thing.”

He gave a small, curt nod. “Yeah, but…was that really what you wanted to do?”

”That’s a stupid question,” she narrowed her eyes slightly, as if scrutinizing him.

“Maybe,” he acknowledged openly, “but I’m still asking it.”

Another pause. Then, she sighed. “I didn’t choose it. I was raised for it. That’s all there is to it.” He frowned but didn’t push further. He had a feeling Maki wouldn’t appreciate any attempts at sympathy. “And you?” she asked suddenly, turning the question back on him. “What did you do?”

He hesitated. “I’m a detective in-training.”

“You don’t sound too confident about that,” she regarded him with disbelief.

He let out a weak chuckle. “I was more of an apprentice, honestly. My uncle’s the detective, and he was trying to get me to follow in his footsteps, but I never really put in the effort,” he kicked at the loose tile again, “and now I’m stuck here, trying to figure out what’s going on, just like you.”

“You must be good enough if you survived this long,” she uttered a quiet hum.

He blinked, not expecting the slight compliment. “Uh...thanks?”

She just crossed her arms. “It’s not a compliment, it’s a fact. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“...Noted.”

Sadly, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud, familiar voice cutting through the crowd. “Shuichi!!!” His head snapped toward the sound, and before he could fully process it, Kokichi appeared from the sea of people. “There you are!” Kokichi’s voice was cheerful, almost annoyingly so. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You didn’t think you could hide from me, did you?”

Hiis expression is already weary. “Kokichi…”

Without waiting for an answer, he bounded toward him, his excitement almost comical as he grabbed onto Shuichi’s arm, tugging him away from Maki. “The meeting’s finally done! Isn’t that exciting? Come on, let’s go! I’ve got so much to show you!”

Shuichi shot a brief glance at Maki, who only raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. He then sighed, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Nope!” Kokichi responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s get going!”

As Kokichi dashed forward, Shuichi followed, giving Maki one last look before allowing himself to be practically dragged deeper into the hallway, ignoring the ocean of bodies around. While being dragged around, Shuichi felt something odd. It wasn’t the overwhelming noise or the flashing neon lights that made him tense–it was the eyes. Specifically, the two pairs of eyes that had been watching them ever since they started walking. He subtly glanced to the side, catching sight of two girls standing near a dimly lit corner of a hallway. One had long dark-green hair tied into long, low braids, her arms crossed tightly as she frowned in their direction. The other, significantly shorter, had short red hair with a dull, sleepy expression, though her stare felt just as piercing. Neither of them spoke. They only watched. Judging.

He didn’t know who they were, but this wasn’t the first time they had locked eyes in passing. It was unsettling. Before he could dwell on it, Kokichi tugged on his arm again. “Hellooo? Earth to Shuichi! I’m giving you a tour, not leading you to your funeral!”

”Um… Right.”

******

Nightfall. The energy in the Mark of the City had shifted. Music blared from speakers set up around the mall, and the open space was filled with people drinking, laughing, and celebrating like they had already won whatever battle they were preparing for. Shuichi, however, stood at the edge of it all, hands stuffed into his pockets, unsure of how to blend in.

Kokichi, of course, had no such problem. “You’re so stiff, Shuichi,” he nudged him in the ribs. “What, never been to a party before?”

“Not one like this,” he sighed, watching the crowd cautiously, “what exactly are they celebrating?”

“Who cares?” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “A good soldier doesn’t ask why they march. They just do it.”

Before Shuichi could say anything, a sudden blaring horn cut through the air. The music stopped. The atmosphere shifted instantly. Conversations halted, laughter died down, and heads turned toward the source of the sound. A moment later, someone in the crowd shouted over the growing silence. “Hey, it’s game time!” Then the excitement returned tenfold.

The flow of the crowd shifted, bodies moving toward the center of the mall like a tide being pulled toward shore. The duo were swept up in the movement, finding themselves among dozens of others converging in the main lobby. The words spread quickly, murmured between people like wildfire. Then, as if rehearsed, the chant began–low at first, then rising in volume and fervor.

”Junko! Junko! Junko!”

Shuichi didn’t join in. He just watched as, above them, figures emerged onto the mall’s balcony. The Mark. And at the center of them, grinning ear-to-ear, stood Junko Enoshima. Her arms were outstretched, her smile wide and triumphant as the people below cheered for her. For a long moment, she just stood there, basking in the attention, letting the chant go on uninterrupted. Then, with just the subtle tilt of her wrist, she silenced them all without a word.

“Everyone!” Her voice rang out clear and commanding. “Tonight brings us a new challenge. And my soldiers never back down from one. This challenge is a war against your own fear.” She let the words sink in before continuing. “Individually, each of you has the courage within to play. To battle and to win. And when you stand united as one, nothing can stand in your fucking way.” She raised one hand dramatically. “Together, we will get the cards we need to return to our old world. I know—” she extended her arms out, as if addressing each of them personally, “—that you will get there!”

The room exploded into cheers. People raised their fists, shouted in agreement, fueled by the belief that they were closer than ever to escaping this world. Shuichi watched them, watched the way they seemed utterly absorbed in her words, in the promise of something greater. He wasn’t sure if he should feel admiration or unease.

Junko let them revel in the moment before clapping her hands together. “Let’s get fuckin’ goin’!”

With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared back into the halls of the Mark, her council following close behind. But even as she left, the energy she stirred remained. Another announcement followed, this time from a man below. “Go to the car that has your number!”

There was no hesitation. The people moved instantly, eager to follow the order. Some broke into a sprint, others laughed as they rushed toward the vehicles waiting outside the mall. Shuichi looked down at the number printed on his slip before glancing at Kokichi, who was holding his own paper with a lopsided smirk. “... Is this what we are now? One of them? Collecting cards?”

“Would you look at that? We’ve been divided into separate games,” Kokichi twirled the slip of paper between his fingers before tucking it into his pocket, completely ignoring his earlier comment. “Guess that means we should be careful, huh?”

He huffed softly. “Yeah… Be careful.”

“Awww, you do care! Don’t worry, Shuichi, I’ll be fine! You, though…” he poked Shuichi’s forehead. “Try not to die.”

“Team 1 to Team 9, proceed to the game arena in Shinagawa. Team 10 to Team 17, head to the game arena in Tokyo. Team 18 to 24, please proceed—” The voice in the radio blurred into a wall of indistinct sound as people shouted, engines revved, and the night swallowed them whole.

The detective sat in the car, his hands resting in his lap as they descended into the city. The bright lights of the Mark faded into the background, replaced by the looming shadows of Tokyo’s dead streets. And after what felt like forever, the vehicle came to a stop.

Shuichi exited the car and narrowed his eyes at the building before him, an empty school with a glowing, bright gymnasium from the side. He spared a glance to the other participants, there were three more participants who left. One of the Mark council member’s–Kyoko and three other people. Neither of the party spoke a word as they pushed through the school gates and headed to the direction of the gym.

Familiar and always, a round white table stood in the side of the gym doors. Each of them took one, letting the facial scanner examine their faces.

“FACIAL RECOGNITION IN PROGRESS.”
“PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT…”

…

“ENTRY REGISTERED.”

Shortly, the doors to the gym creaked open with a groan, revealing quite a strange sight. Shuichi was one of the first to enter, his eyes swept across the room, taking in the eight stools arranged in a circle, their wooden legs firmly planted on the floor. Each stool had a thick, sturdy noose hanging above it, the ropes swaying gently as though they were alive, waiting for the players to take their places. In the center of the circle, was a rotating table with the alphabet in it.

The gym doors behind them open again, four more people emerge. As the next party comes closer, Shuichi’s eyes widen. “Hey, you’re…you’re the one from the Tag game. So you’re alive, too.” It seems many of the participants from Tag managed to find themselves wound up in the Mark of the City.

It was the man with the spiky brown hair and a green hoodie from before. He looked fervid to see Shuichi again. “Yeah! I help the Mark during—”

”Leave the formalities for after the game,” Kyoko interrupted, her arms folded across her chest.

”Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.” Shuichi barely had time to react before another familiar face stomped up beside him, arms flailing around. “Why the hell are you here?!”

He blinked, confused. “What?”

”What?! Don’t ‘what’ me, you fucking sad sack!” Miu jabbed a finger at his chest. “First, I find you when I was dealing with Kokichi, and now I gotta deal with you again?! This some kinda sick joke?!”

Geez, what is her problem? “Uh, this was random. I didn’t choose to be here with you.”

”Yeah, sure, like you didn’t secretly wish you’d be stuck with me,” she scoffed, “whatever. Just don’t drag me down, okay? I don’t need a loser like you weighing me down in a game where we’re gonna die if we screw up.”

Shuichi sighed, trying to ignore Miu’s venomous words. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, one of his party stepped in. “We’re all here because we don’t have much of a choice. But if we start bickering now, it’ll just make things worse for all of us.”

A dirty blonde haired woman standing beside him, nodded in agreement. She had been quiet until now, but her sharp eyes darted between everyone. “He’s right. The more we argue, the less time we have to actually figure out the game. And with the stakes being what they are…” She trailed off, as ger fingers twitched, itching to pull out her notebook. She was a linguist—she could decipher anything if she had enough time.

”Let’s just get this over with, aight? I still have some unfinished business with my girl back at Mark.” Another guy went forward with a smirk and stood up on the stool, placing the noose over his head and felt it tighten ever so slightly.

And with all eight participants standing on the stools, the game had officially begun.

Chapter 15: Four of Clubs 5.3

Summary:

The words were hanging by a thread.

Notes:

Like I said, a game change!! :3

 

[TRIGGER WARNING: HANGING. LOTS OF HANGING MENTIONS.]

 

________________________________

”REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED.”
-Kyoko Kirigiri, Ultimate Detective
-Shuichi Saihara, Ultimate Detective
-Sayuri Agatsuma, Ultimate Herbalist
-Akihiro Kawakami, Ultimate Flautist
-Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Luck
-Keisuke Furuta, Ultimate Billiards Player
-Anzu Kawano, Ultimate Linguist
-Miu Iruma, Ultimate Inventor
”THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

”DIFFICULTY, FOUR OF CLUBS.”
”GAME, ‘HANGMAN’S GAMBIT.’”

”GOAL: THE PLAYERS MUST WORK TOGETHER TO CORRECTLY GUESS ALL WORDS/PHRASES.”

”CLEAR CONDITIONS: THE TEAM MUST COMPLETE ALL THE WORDS CORRECTLY AND WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.”

”RULES:”
”- ALL PLAYERS ARE PART OF A SINGLE TEAM, BUT THE GAME IS DESIGNED TO TEST HOW WELL THEY COOPERATE UNDER EXTREME PRESSURE.”
”- THE WORDS COULD BE COMPLETELY UNRELATED, SPANNING ACROSS CATEGORIES LIKE FAMOUS FIGURES, GEOGRAPHY, OBJECTS, EMOTIONS, OR ANYTHING ELSE. HOWEVER, THEY ARE GIVEN A DEFINITION.”
”- TO ENTER A LETTER, PRESS THE KEYBOARD BEFORE YOU. IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU KNOW THE WORD, TYPE IT DOWN. BUT IF TOO MANY WRONG GUESSES WERE MADE, A PLAYER WILL BE HANGED.”
”- IF THE WORD INPUT IS INCORRECT, THE ONE WHO TYPED IT WILL BE ELIMINATED IMMEDIATELY.”
”- IT IS ALSO NOT ALLOWED FOR THE SAME PLAYER PRESS A LETTER TWICE IN A ROW. YOU MUST TAKE TURNS.”

”EVERY TIME A PLAYER GUESSES A LETTER, THE FOLLOWING HAPPENS:”

”CORRECT GUESS: THE LETTER IS FILLED IN, AND THE GAME BOARD UPDATES.”
”INCORRECT GUESS: THE ROPE TIGHTENS AROUND ONE OF THEIR NECK, AND THEY ARE SLIGHTLY LIFTED OFF THEIR STOOL.”

”CHOOSING SELECTION OF WORDS: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10… 5!”

”GAME START.”

”Round 1: Word • _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _”
”Definition: Brain part that helps with emotions.”
(9 letters)

”This one seems long… Any- any ideas? What do we do?” Sayuri, the herbalist, kept her hands on the noose trying to make distance with it from her neck as the rough texture itches her skin.

The inventor scoffed, shooting a sharp glare at her. “What do we do? Are you serious right now? We guess, dumbass!”

As they argued, Shuichi hummed in thought. Nine letters. That’s quite a lot. It’s probably a word that’s somewhat common. What’s something with that many letters? He should go with a safer option for now without much of a lead—vowels.

“How about we try ‘A’? It’s a pretty common letter and could fit a lot of different spots,” he cleared his throat. “If we guess wrong...we might be in real trouble. But, it could work.”

”I agree,” Anzu, the blonde linguist, bent her head, making her neck crack like a brittle bone. “We should start with vowels.”

”Well? Then go ahead and press it!” Miu’s eyes did a slow, exasperated orbit before settling back in place. “It’s your letter, so you do it!”

Shuichi inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched slightly as he hesitated, but he knew they couldn’t afford to waste time. He reached out toward the oversized keypad floating in the air before them and pressed the letter ‘A’. The moment he did, a mechanical chime rang through the gym.

✅ A
”Word • A _ _ _ _ A _ A _”

Several blanks on the board filled in, the first, sixth, and eighth letters revealing themselves as ‘A.’

”Nice! We actually got one!” Sayuri exhaled in relief, her grip loosening slightly on the noose around her neck.

”Tch, you sound surprised.” Keisuke’s breath escaped in a sharp, dismissive puff. “What, you thought we’d just screw up instantly?”

”I mean, the stakes kinda make it feel that way,” she murmured undee her breath.

Shuichi’s eyes stayed locked on the board. Three A’s. That helps narrow it down but it’s still not enough. A nine-letter word related to emotions, and ‘A’ is the first letter? What could it possibly be? There were so many possibilities. Affect? Anxiety? Amnesia? No, too short… wrong meaning… missing a letter…

”We should keep going with vowels,” Kyoko spoke up, interrupting his thoughts a little. “‘E’ or ‘I” might help us see the structure better.” She reached forward, pressing ‘E.’

✅ E
”Word • A _ _ _ _ A _ A E”

After the next letter revealed itself, the group let out a collective sigh of relief. Sayuri shifted nervously, her hands fidgeting with the noose around her neck. “So... um...what’s next?”

Anzu squinted at the letters that had been revealed so far. “We’ve got A, E... I’m thinking the next vowel should be ‘O,’ right?”

Keisuke glanced at her, then the board. “You sure?”

”It’s a common vowel,” she reasoned. “And it fits with what we have.”

”Better than standing around like idiots,” he mumbled under his breath. He didn’t hesitate to reach out and slam the button for “O” before anyone could argue.

The game board shifted—

BZZZT!

There was a collective gasp from the group as the sound of the buzzer echoed. The noose tightened, and Keisuke gasped as the rope jerked around his neck, lifting him just slightly higher from his stool. He gasped, stumbling a bit as he fought for air. He barely managed to regain his footing, his breaths now coming out in raggedy pants. He groaned, rubbing his neck, then snapped his head toward Anzu. “Nice fucking pick, genius!”

She flinched, her face tightening. “I was trying to help! I thought it could fit!”

”Yeah? Well, you thought wrong!” His voice cracked like a frayed rope finally giving way. “I nearly got my damn throat crushed for that!”

”We all agreed to this!” She fired back like a loaded gun. “It’s not like I forced you to press it!”

”You suggested it!” He hissed, his breathing still uneven. “That’s on you, you slimey conniving bi—!”

”Enough!” Makoto, luck by his side and Shuichi’s acquaintance, interrupted sharply, stopping the words before they could escalate. “We don’t have time for this.” His eyes darted between them. “You’re making it worse for everyone.”

”Makoto’s right,” Kyoko nodded calmly. “Why don’t we go with another common letter? Something we know is likely to appear.”

”If it makes you feel any better, I’d be happy to press the next letter.” Anzu glared at Keisuke and extended her hand, hovering on a letter. “I’ll press ‘D’.” Honestly, she expected to have her noose tightened next, but…

✅ D
”Word • A _ _ _ D A _ A E”

He scoffed, his jaw locked like a steel trap as he watched the board update. “Hah. Lucky guess.”

“Oh, shut up,” Anzu’s words slithered out like a severed tongue still twitching. “What, you mad I didn’t get my noose tightened?”

Keisuke clicked his tongue but didn’t respond. Instead, he just looked away, arms crossed. He was still annoyed, but after nearly getting choked out, he wasn’t about to argue again. “Tch, yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Makoto sighed in relief, glad that things weren’t spiraling further. “Alright, let’s keep this momentum going. We’re making progress.”

“Okay, so…who’s pressing next?” Sayuri asked hesitantly, her fingers still gripping at her noose as if she could somehow keep it from tightening.

“Well, not me again, that’s for damn sure,” he scowled.

“I’ll do it.” Miu suddenly spoke up, cracking her knuckles. “Bet my big, sexy brain can figure this out way faster than the rest of you dweebs!”

“Miu, this isn’t—” Kyoko started, but Miu had already slammed her hand down.

BZZZT!

And in the next instant, Miu’s noose wrenched tighter, a hungry snake sinking its fangs into her throat. Her body convulsed, and a strangled yelp clawed its way out of her mouth, raw and wet, only to be swallowed by the crushing embrace of the rope. Her fingers scrabbled at the coarse fibers, nails peeling as theu dug in. “Shit—!” She gasped. “What the hell?! That was supposed to be right!”

“That was reckless,” Kyoko stated bluntly. “You should’ve taken a moment to consider first.”

“Oh, shove it!” She rasped, still clawing at the noose. “I don’t see you stepping up!”

“... Okay, let’s not just guess randomly this time,” Shuichi let out a small cough. “We should think about what letters are most likely to be in the word based on what we have so far.”

“Easier said than done.” Keisuke continued to massage his neck. “We don’t even know what kind of word this is.”

The female detective narrowed her eyes at the board. “‘A’… something… something… ‘D’, ‘A’… something, ‘A’, ‘E’.” Her fingers tapped against her arm in thought. “It could be a noun, maybe?”

“Or a verb,” Anzu added, “but that’s assuming it’s an English word. This game might throw something foreign at us.”

Sayuri gulped. “Who’s next? Should we try another vowel? ‘I’ or ‘U’?”

“I dunno…” Akihiro, the flautist, who had been mostly quiet up until now, finally spoke up. He tilted his head, staring at the word hard. “I think a consonant would be better. Maybe a ‘T’? That’s common in a lot of words.” Makoto opened his mouth, almost like he wanted to protest, but Akihiro had already made his decision. He reached out and pressed the letter—

BZZZT!

“Ghhk—!” Akihiro barely had time to react before his noose snapped tight and felt his body lift a little higher, his body jerking as the rope dug into his skin. His chest heaved, each breath sharp, as if his lungs were being crushed by invisible hands.

Kyoko let out a disappointed sigh. “I said no more reckless guesses. Think carefully.”

The herbalist’s hand was still hovering above the board, but she hadn’t even made a guess yet. She just kept asking who would go next. “Who’s going next?”

Shuichi glanced at her, the patience starting to wear thin. “Uh, you’ve asked that three times already.”

”Bitch, you’re not even trying to guess anything,” Miu glared daggers at her.

Sayuri flinched, her face flushing with embarrassment. “I—I’m just… I’m not sure, okay? I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, so you don’t know? Big surprise.” The inventor sneered, not backing down. “You’ve got all the time to sit there and whine but never the guts to actually help. We’re not here to coddle you, sweetheart!”

”Okay, okay! Fine! I’ll press something!” And though many were about to protest to her about making a reckless guess, she had already tapped on a letter with shaking hands.

✅ M
”Word • A M _ _ D A _ A E”

The moment the letter “M” appeared on the board, the group felt a slight relief, but it didn’t last long. A little moment after, Shuichi shifted uncomfortably in his stool. Every word he thought of–every letter he considered–felt like a dead end. He had already gone through “amendable,” “amortize,” even “amplified.” But none of those words made sense in the context of the definition they were given nor the spelling.

“I’m out of ideas,” Miu looked at the board with frustration on her face. “Why is this so hard? It’s just a word. How hard can it be?”

”We’re trying to think, okay?” Keisuke’s brows furrowd. “You’re not the only one here, you fat bitch!”

”Fat?! Bitch?! How fucking dare you!—”

Akihiro groaned, massaging his temples. “Could you two just shut up for once?! We’re already running out of time, and we’re not helping anyone with these pointless arguments!”

Shuichi’s head felt like it was going to explode. He wanted to be the one to step in, to lead, but he couldn’t even wrap his head around the word. Sayuri, meanwhile, was growing more and more agitated, still clutching the rope that was tightening around her neck. “We’re all gonna die if we don’t stop yelling and figure this out!”

Shuichi sighed heavily, but before he could respond, Anzu suddenly stepped forward, her expression unreadable. “I know the answer,” she said calmly. Everyone paused, looking at her, surprise and skeptical.

“Wait, you know it?” The billiards player scoffed. “Then what are you waiting for? Type it in already!”

Anzu didn’t respond to him. She was already at the board, her fingers poised over the keys. “It’s amygdalae,” she said, typing it in. They watched as she input the word without much hesitation. “The amygdala, it’s part of the brain. You know, that little almond-shaped thing deep in your brain? It’s responsible for emotions. Like, fear, pleasure, anger…all those primal responses that kick in when we’re under stress, or when we’re facing danger.”

“YOU HAVE COMPLETED ROUND 1: A M Y G D A L A E.”

”NOW MOVING ONTO ROUND 2.”

”Round 2: Word • _ _ _ _ _ _”
”Definition: To urge, to coax.”
(6 letters)

There was a collective exhale. Miu was the first to react, throwing her arms up. “What the actual fuck? You knew that the whole time and didn’t say anything?!”

“I figured it out when the ‘M’ was revealed,” Anzu said simply, stretching out her shoulders like she hadn’t just pulled them all back from the edge of death. “But I needed to be sure before I said anything.”

”Either way, we made it through.” Kyoko interjected, her gaze remaining on Anzu longer than necessary. “No point dwelling on it.”

The male detective frowned at the board, his mind already racing. Six letters… urging, coaxing… persuade? No, that’s too long. Convince? Still too long. Maybe something simpler… He took a breath. “We should go with the same strategy. Vowels first.”

“Alright… I’ll go first this time.” Makoto hovered over the keypad, glancing back at the others. “We started with ‘A’ last time, right? Maybe we should try it again.”

“Whatever, dude, just press it already,” Keisuke shifted uncomfortably in his noose. Makoto exhaled and pressed the letter wordlessly.

✅ A
”Word • _ A _ _ _ _”

The herbalist’s shoulders sagged with relief. “That’s one down, at least.”

”Pfft, as if that helps,” He scoffed, “what, are we supposed to magically know the answer just because of one letter?”

”It’s better than nothing,” Shuichi pointed out.

“We could try another vowel,” Akihiro suggested, “maybe ‘E’ or ‘I’?”

“Hmm… ‘I’ sounds like a solid choice,” Sayuri responded thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “It’s pretty common in words, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s in this word,” Keisuke glared. “We don’t even know what the damn word is yet.”

“No shit, genius, that’s how this works,” Miu arched a frustrated eyebrow. “We’re supposed to figure it out, duh.”

“Alright, alright,” Anzu interrupted before an argument could break out. “Let’s stay focused.” Her head turned to Sayuri to address her. “If you think ‘I’ is a good choice, go ahead and press it.”

“Alright! Here goes nothing!” Sayuri smiled nervously and pressed the letter ‘I’.

BZZZT!

The loud buzz was followed by the sharp tightening of her noose. Her body jolted upward, the sudden tug lifting her slightly off the stool as the rope bit into her skin. “Gkk—!” She coughed, stumbling a bit. “O- Okay, bad idea! Really bad idea!”

The billiards player groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

“Holy hell, you’re worse than dumbass detective over there,” Miu jabbed a thumb at Shuichi. “At least he overthinks instead of just pressing whatever like a braindead ape!”

”Okay, so no ‘I’…” Makoto hummed. “What else fits? A six-letter word for urging someone to do something.”

Kyoko tapped a finger against her arm. “It could be a verb. Something active.”

“Duh, obviously,” the inventor rolled her eyes. “We just don’t know which one, smartass.”

Was it ‘appeal’? No wait, there’s only one ‘A’. Maybe ‘handle’? No, that means to manage, not to coax. ‘Gamble’? That’s more risk than persuasion… ‘Pastor’? Definitely not. ‘Master’? No, too unrelated. This is getting frustrating, what could it be? ‘Flatter’? Pretty close, but the arrangement is wrong. ‘Dangle’?... It also means to offer an enticing incentive to someone, right?

Maybe that’s it, he thought.

Without thinking much longer, he pressed ‘D’.

BZZZT!

Shuichi’s eyes widened in shock as the rope around his neck tightened alongside being lifted a bit off the stool, and he instinctively jerked his head back. His hands shot up, trembling slightly as he tried to pry the rope loose, but the more he moved, the worse it felt. And this was only round 2 out of 5? Which meant the rope was gonna get tighter and lifted higher the more mistakes were made? Someone kill him already– wait no, his friends probably wouldn’t like him thinking like that.

The room was tense, but most of the players didn’t react much. Keisuke, looking somewhat unbothered, merely chuckled under his breath. “You really need to think before you guess, man.”

Anzu crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "We’re not getting anywhere. We have one letter right, but that doesn’t mean we can guess willy-nilly.”

There was a sudden silence. No one was speaking anymore. They were all waiting for someone to make a decision, but no one dared move. Then, without a word, Kyoko’s hand shot out, and with calm precision, she pressed the letter ‘C’.

✅ C
”Word • C A _ _ _ _”

Shuichi stared at the board with blank eyes. Later on, the group continued to struggle, with Keisuke pressing ‘T’, Miu pressing ‘M’, and Makoto pressing ‘P’, all resulting in incorrect guesses. Each wrong press tightened the noose around their necks. Finally, Anzu pressed ‘O’, correctly filling in a letter—forming “C A _ O _ _”, bringing a brief moment of relief. However, Sayuri’s press of ‘R’ was wrong, causing the noose to tighten again.

”This is bullshit!” Miu stomped on her stool. “How are we still getting wrong?! We’re gonna get choked at this rate and it’s only round fucking 2!”

Keisuke clenched his fists. “We don’t have time to argue! Just pick a letter, anyone! We’ve all been wasting too much time!”

Sayuri’s eyes squinted. “I’m not just going to pick a letter without thinking anymore, okay? We’re down to the wire here, and you want to just guess blindly?”

Akihiro, who had been silent for a while, leaned forward with a slight shrug. “Screw it.” He pressed on the letter ‘J’ without hesitation, as though he were making a gamble.

✅ J
”Word • C A J O _ _”

Makoto stood frozen for a moment, staring at the board as the letters hung in the air. His mind buzzed, trying to piece together what could fit. He had already been through so many options, but none felt quite right. Then, something clicked. He began to laugh at himself. It seemed so obvious now. “Geez,” he muttered. “It’s cajole. We’ve been overthinking it.”

There was no immediate reaction from the group. No one spoke, no one moved. Then, the screen flashed.

“YOU HAVE COMPLETED ROUND 2: C A J O L E.”

”NOW MOVING ONTO ROUND 3.”

”Round 3: Word • _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _”
”Definition: To transform in a surprising or magical way.”
(17 letters)

The silence was deafening. A collective, confused look passed between them as they stared at the screen. The word was impossibly long...seventeen letters? It was like something out of a fucked up puzzle they weren’t prepared for.

“What the hell is that?!” Miu finally broke the silence with disbelief, glaring at the board like it had personally offended her. “Who the hell knows a seventeen-letter word for that?!”

Sayuri’s voice quivered slightly as she glanced between the puzzle and the others. “To transform in a surprising or magical way...but seventeen letters? There’s no way we can figure this out, right?”

Akihiro was the quietest, staring intently at the screen, his face slightly pale. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Everyone’s eyes shot back to the screen, the word still mocked them with its length. But Anzu, the linguist, narrowed her eyes at the screen, her fingers lightly tapping against her arms as she processed the word in her head. She had a wealth of experience with words, so the challenge wasn’t as impossible to her as it seemed to the others.

As the game continued, the group tried to piece together the mystery word. Makoto took the lead, correctly guessing ‘A’ for the third and fourteenth letters, followed by Anzu who got ‘T’ right for the first and fifteenth positions. Akihiro’s turn brought success with ‘R’, filling in the second and ninth spots, while Keisuke chose ‘N’, locking in the fourth and seventeenth letters. Miu also contributed, correctly pressing ‘S’ for the fifth and ‘M’ for the sixth position. However, not everyone was so lucky—Shuichi, Kyoko, Sayuri, and Anzu each made some wrong guesses. ‘E’, ‘B’, ‘K’, ‘D’, ‘U’, ‘P’, ‘L’ were all rejected, causing the nooses to tighten with each incorrect guess.

Makoto confidently pressed ‘O’, and the screen flickered with a satisfying green checkmark. Next, Kyoko pressed ‘F’, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. She watched with bated breath as the screen confirmed her choice was correct. But the winning streak didn’t last quite long. Akihiro chose ‘J’ next, and immediately, the noose tightened. He winced as the rope constricted around his neck, lifting him off the stool just slightly. Miu, feeling the sharp sting of pressure around her throat, hesitated for only a second before she chose ‘G’. The room kept quite for a second or so before the buzzer sounded, this time followed by the sweet relief of success.

✅ G
”Word • T R A N S M O G R _ F _ _ A T _ O N”

Sayuri, still struggling the most with her tightened noose, was doing her best to stand on her tiptoes, trying to gain a better angle on the board. She wobbled slightly, her hands shaking as she reached forward, only to accidentally press a key. The letter ‘H’.

BZZZT!

The sensation was immediate when her body jerked upward slightly as the rope pulled taut. She wheezed for air, her chest constricting painfully, but the pressure didn’t relent. Her hands shot to her throat, her knees buckling as she tried to gasp for breath. Her body lifted off the stool, the noose tightening to an unbearable degree. She immediately staggered back, choking out, “No... no, I didn’t mean to—!”

A strangled gasp left her lips, her fingers quickly clawing at the noose squeezing her throat. Her legs kicked frantically, searching for anything to stand on, but there was nothing. Choked, wet sounds came from her throat as she tried to breathe, but the rope only tightened further. Her chest heaved, her face turning a deep shade of red, then purple. Her legs convulsed, jerking wildly, before slowing then stopping altogether.

Her arms twitched. Her fingers flexed weakly.

And then…nothing.

Her body hung motionless, swaying ever so slightly.

Guess she really choked under pressure.

Notes:

The game name was supposed to be ”Deadman’s Hangman” but then I suddenly remembered something way better lol. I also hope you guys won’t mind that I'm putting my main OCs with actual lore included here (Anzu)💔. She’s not gonna be that important, trust me, maybe a few minor mentions of her in future chapters but that’d all be it. :')

This game was also supposed to be a Six of Clubs, but I realized that the difficulty was probs too high and subtracted it by two. This was also planned to be a Diamonds game but the previous game was already a Diamonds so I changed it... :3

Bonus: I was supposed to write the Light Bulb game and follow whatever was on AIB but then I suddenly felt bored and went, "Yk what, I think I wanna make up a new game. :]" What gave me this idea was when our math teacher let us play hangman during class with only math related words with whoever wins getting additional plus points to our grade. (My team did NOT win🙏❌)

Chapter 16: Four of Clubs 5.4

Summary:

He ran happily towards the light. Like a young swallow swooping out of sight.

Notes:

Chapter summary is a line from Reverse: 1999!! :3 (Also feel free to imagine who is who, it honestly fits both of them.)

I also might be a bit wrong with the letter count..., but yeah lol

 

[TRIGGER WARNING: HANGING. LOTS OF HANGING MENTIONS.]

 

________________________________

A cold, suffocating silence fell over the group as Sayuri’s body swayed above them. No one moved, no one spoke until Keisuke, breathless and pale, hissed through clenched teeth. “Okay- okay, someone figure out the next letter, because I am not going out like that.”

Akihiro swallowed hard, staring at the board. “Someone— just–pick something already.”

It had happened so fast; one wrong press, a gasp, and then she was gone. Though he didn’t understand why he felt so familiar with this scene. Oh, that’s right. The way her body dangled, the unnatural stillness...it reminded him of a case he’d once followed his uncle on. In that old case, the victim had been found hanging in an abandoned warehouse, an alleged suicide.

“You’ll face moments like these, Shuichi,” his uncle had said, crouching down to inspect the scene. ”When you’re too late to save someone, when you can only watch. But remember this: the case doesn’t stop when the victim dies. It’s when the real work begins.”

Young Shuichi stood frozen at the edge of the crime scene, his tiny hands gripping the fabric of his uncle's coat as the scene unfolded before him. The woman hung from the rafters with her lifeless body swaying gently in the breeze. It was such a terrible sight for a middle schooler to see. The woman’s body was suspended by the rope, her face frozen in a grimace, limbs awkwardly dangling. It was his first real case, the first time he had seen death up close.

The officer standing beside them shifted nervously, glancing at the body, then at Shuichi’s uncle. “I just… I just don’t get it,” the officer whispered, shaking his head. “I’ve seen suicides before, but this doesn’t feel right. It’s almost as if she’s been, well, transformed- some kind of, uh, transmogrification or something.”

His uncle raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp as ever. “Transmogrification?” he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue.

The officer nodded, a slight quiver in his voice. “I mean, look at the body...it doesn’t sit right. The way her arms and legs are positioned, the marks on her neck… It’s almost like she was made to be like this, rather than having done it to herself.”

Shuichi stood quietly, unsure of what exactly was going on, but something in the air told him this was no simple case. His uncle didn’t show any signs of alarm, his face as unreadable as ever. “We’ll take a closer look,” his uncle said, turning back to the body. “It’s important we don’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

... Wait a minute.

He snapped back to the present, his eyes involuntarily darting to the board.

Word • T R A N S M O G R _ F _ _ A T _ O N

His breath hitched. That word, he’d heard it before. Not here, not in this hellish game, but years ago, standing behind his uncle in an old warehouse. He could still hear the officer’s voice, the way they slipped the word transmogrification into the conversation, the way it meant nothing to him back then. But now... Now it was the answer staring him in the face.

”I got it!” he shouted, startling the others. His fingers trembled as he turned to face them. “The answer is transmogrification!”

Without waiting for their approval, he turned to the keyboard, his fingers typing swiftly.

“YOU HAVE COMPLETED ROUND 3: T R A N S M O G R I F I C A T I O N.”
”NOW MOVING ONTO ROUND 4.”

”Round 4: Word • _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _”
”Definition: Oppressed or treated badly by people in power.”
(11 letters)

“Eleven letters? That’s so vague,” The billiards player grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. His voice was still hoarse from the noose tightening earlier. “Could be anything.”

“Not anything,” Kyoko countered with folded arms. “It’s specifically about being oppressed. We need to think of synonyms for that.”

Miu sneered. “Oh, sure, lemme just pull out my Thesaurus while I’m literally choking to death over here.”

“Don’t act like you’re the only one suffering,” Anzu retorted, “we all are.”

Akihiro, quiet as ever, suddenly spoke. “Marginalized?”

The linguist shook her head. “Twelve letters. Too long.”

Keisuke clicked his tongue. “Then what the hell is it?”

”Whatever it is, let’s pick a letter.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll go first. I’ll start with ‘A’.”

BZZZT!

Anzu barely had time to react before the noose yanked her upward, lifting her just an inch off the stool. Her breath hitched as her toes barely grazed the surface. “... Okay. No ‘A’, then.”

Akihiro leaned forward, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the board. “Alright, I’m gonna try P,” he muttered mainly to himself. “I’m thinking ‘Persecuted’.” He slammed the button, confident in his guess.

BZZZT!

He gasped, barely managing to steady himself. “Shit! It’s wrong?” He blinked in disbelief as the noose tightened around him. He began counting on his fingers, realization dawning. “Wait a second… ‘Persecuted’ only has ten letters, not eleven! Damn it, that was dumb…” He groaned, the rope still hovering in the air.

Miu rolled her eyes at Akihiro’s stupidity, and pulled out a sleek pack of cigars from her pocket. She flicked open the box and slid one cigar out, bringing it to her lips as she tried to light it. ”You know what?” She puffed out a cloud. “I’m feeling lucky today. Why not take a gamble?”

The others exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of what she was planning. “A gamble?” Shuichi repeated, raising an eyebrow.

”I’m gonna take a chance with a vowel,” she declared boldly, her finger hovering over the keys. “Let’s see if I can shake things up.”

A few voices protested in unison, “Are you crazy? You can’t just—”

She cut them off with a shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s all about taking chances, right?”

✅ O
Word • _ O _ _ _ _ O _ _ _ _”

A few of them blinked in surprise. Miu just laughed, the cigar dangling from her lips as she leaned back smugly, basking in the moment of triumph. “Told you. Looks like I made the right call.”

The group barely reacted to Miu’s smug grin before someone muttered, “Moving on…”

A short time passed, tension hanging heavier than the ropes around their necks. Kyoko took a chance with ‘U’–wrong. The noose tightened, her breath hitching slightly. Keisuke followed up with ‘E’, which landed a correct spot at the tenth letter. Makoto, still shaken, attempted ‘I’–wrong. He barely managed to stay balanced as the rope constricted. Akihiro tried ‘L’ but it was wrong as well, then Kyoko redeemed herself with ‘T’, successfully placing it as the fifth letter. Anzu followed up with ‘N’, correctly filling the fourth and final letter. Makoto, hoping to turn his luck around, pressed ‘S’–wrong. He coughed as the noose bit into his skin. Lastly, Akihiro, grimacing slightly, decided on ‘C’.

BZZZT!

The sound was deafening, followed by the sickening creak of rope. His body jolted as he was suddenly lifted higher than before, legs kicking out instinctively. A sharp choke forced its way out of his windpipe as the rope tightened, cutting off his air instantly. His feet kicked and searched for a surface that no longer existed. A garbled, wheezing sound escaped his lips, barely audible over the creaking, “Ack—! Fuck, wait!—,” his face turned red, then a sickly purple as oxygen deprivation set in, the veins on his forehead bulged.

The struggle didn’t last long. His movements slowed and his kicks turning to weak spasms, his fingers twitching before going limp. His head dropped forward, chin nearly touching his chest as his body settled, hanging motionless.

Two bodies now hung lifelessly before them; the herbalist and the flautist. Their feet dangled inches above the stools they had once stood on, the ropes swaying ever so slightly.

Keisuke’s jaw clenched, swallowing hard, forcing down the bile rising in his throat. “...Shit.” That was all he could say.

Makoto decided to stare at the floor, “...Two already.”

The word was beginning to take shape, but that didn’t make things any easier. Miu tapped her fingers against her arm. “Okay, so we got _O_NT_O__EN. That’s...uh… Anyone got a clue?”

Anzu groaned in frustration. “I’ve definitely heard of this word before, but what was it? I can’t remember…”

”Try hard to remember it,” the female detective said, ”and while you do that, someone needs to make a calculated guess.”

The group fell into a tense silence, looking between each other. Then, almost in unison, their gazes landed on Shuichi.

“You haven’t contributed in a while,” Keisuke pointed out. “It’s your turn.”

Shuichi blinked, taken aback. He glanced at the board, then at the tightening nooses around their necks. “Oppressed... badly treated by people in power…” he mumbled quietly to himself, trying to piece it all together. That’s what he has been doing the entire time for this round, but nothing came to his mind.

What fits? What fits?

He wasn’t sure why but hus mind kept circling around ‘D’. It wasn’t a guarantee, but in his gut, he had a feeling. The pattern of letters–D, O, N, T–seemed like a plausible match for the word. He couldn’t think of another letter that might fit without risking the tightness of the rope. So he exhaled slowly, trying to quiet his heartbeat. He looked back at the screen and made up his mind, tapping the letter ‘D’.

✅ D
Word • D O _ N T _ O D D E N”

Anzu’s eyes widened as the letters filled in on the screen. Her eyes flickered rapidly, her brain scrambling to make sense of the word. It took a few moments for the gears to click into place, but then it hit her like a lightning bolt.

“Oh! I finally remember!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up. “It’s downtrodden!” She wasted no time to type in the word, grinning ear-to-ear. “It fits perfectly! This word matches the definition!”

“YOU HAVE COMPLETED ROUND 4: D O W N T R O D D E N.”
”NOW MOVING ONTO THE LAST ROUND.”

”Round 5: Word • _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _”
”Definition: A frenzy caused by desire for the unattainable.”
(11 letters)

”Another one with eleven letters?” The billiards player tilted his head slightly, thought the texture of the rope prickled his skin a bit so he slanted it back.

”I don’t mind going first,” Kyoko already extended her hand, gazing at the board. “I’ll start with ‘A’ again so we can have a lead.”

BZZZT!

She choked slightly, the constriction pulling her up into the air a few inches. Her breath became shallow, but she didn’t make a sound.

Moving on, Anzu’s body wavered slightly as she struggled to maintain her balance on the precarious stool. The noose was tight around her neck, making it hard to breathe, and her legs felt like they could give out at any moment. Desperately trying to steady herself, she tried to lift her feet a little, standing on her tiptoes, but in the process, her finger accidentally pressed the letter ‘Y’.

Her heart skipped a beat as the sound of a loud BZZT! echoed in the room. Her eyes widened in panic, was this it? Was she about to be like Sayuri, hanging lifeless before the others? The world seemed to slow down for a moment, the fear crawling under her skin.

Her eyes shakily reached up to meet the board.

✅ Y
Word • _ Y _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Y”

It took her a second to process, but she stood still, hands shaking, as she tried to regain composure. “I—what?”

”Damn,” Miu sharply laughed, “one wrong move and you’d be swinging like a Christmas ornament.”

Anzu let out a shaky breath, still regaining her footing. “Not like I meant to press it. I thought I was dead for sure…”

Shuichi, still shaken from the close call, furrowed his brow, deep in thought. His gut twisted with a strange certainty, the kind that you couldn’t explain but just knew. He exhaled softly, his gaze narrowing as he considered the next logical move. There was something pulling him toward ‘N’, like it was destined to fit into this puzzle. He couldn’t quite explain it, but his instincts as a detective told him that ‘N’ had to be the next step.

✅ Y
Word • N Y _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Y”

”Oh, thank God.” Keisuke’s shoulders sagged.

Kyoko, who was still struggling silently from her previous mistake, finally spoke through clenched teeth. “Keep going. The faster we solve this, the better.”

Later, Miu pressed ‘R’–BZZT! The noose yanked upward, cutting into her skin. She hissed, rolling her shoulders to ease the strain. Then Kyoko placed ‘M’, filling the third spot. Anzu followed with ‘P’, securing both the fourth and ninth letters. Makoto, carefully considering, added ‘O’ in the sixth slot. Kyoko tried again, pressing ‘I’–BZZT! Her body flinched as the rope jerked her slightly higher, making her bite her lip. Suddenly, Miu felt reckless, and went for ‘V’–which was another mistake. Shuichi, trusting his gut, hit ‘L’, correctly placing it in the seventh spot. Makoto added ‘H’, completing the fifth letter.

✅ H
Word • N Y M P H O L _ P _ Y”

Most of them were barely standing now, their toes curled over the edges of their stools, as if the slightest shift wound send them plunging into a quicker death. The nooses had tightened to the point where every breath felt shallow, their necks aching from the strain. Some gritted their teeth, eyes wide with panic, while others simply tried to breathe. Shortly, Keisuke, desperate to contribute, hit ‘J’ randomly.

BZZZT!

Miu let out a strained breath. “Okay, okay, fuck…we’re getting somewhere- just…don’t fall, guys.”

”I’m trying!” Anzu wobbled dangerously. “It’s kind of hard when your life depends on not sneezing wrong!”

”Don’t start that now,” Kyoko adjustdd her stance, her fingers twitching near the keyboard. She winced as her already-tightened noose dug deeper.

Shuichi tried to steady himself, but his legs were shaking too much. His foot slipped slightly and his hand reflexively hit a key. ‘K’.

BZZZT!

His body jerked upward, his feet barely touching the stool now. A strangled noise escaped him as he gritted his teeth. His feet, already aching from the tippy-toe stance, felt weaker by the second, and the stool beneath him wobbled. One more wrong move, and he’s gone. He needed to stay grounded.

“Dude! Be careful!” The billiards player yelled.

”I’m—” Shuichi sucked in a breath, his throat burning. “Not on purpose!”

Makoto shifted on his feet, gritting his teeth as his hand hovered over the keyboard. With a strained breath, he pressed ‘E’.

✅ E
Word • N Y M P H O L E P _ Y”

”Good job, Makoto.” Kyoko nodded slightly, her voice hoarse but grateful. “All we need is one more letter.”

”I don’t know guys,” Keisuke’s eyes scanned the others. “I really don’t know now, fuck…”

”Shit, I don’t think I’ve heard of this word before…!” Anzu, her face pale and eyes wide with panic, had her hands clenched tightly around the rope, as if trying to hold herself steady. “Someone, please! Choose a letter, I can’t die yet!” Her voice cracked as she gasped for breath, making every word feel like it might be her last. “I still have to find my sister... I can’t just—” Her voice broke off.

The whining, the begging–it was all too much. “Oh my God, shut the fuck up! Stop whining! You think we want to die here, too? I’ll pick a damn letter for you just so you could stop acting like this is your personal fucking tragedy!” Miu slammed her fist down onto the keyboard with a loud thud, pressing ‘S’. All eyes were on the screen, waiting for the verdict.

✅ S
Word • N Y M P H O L E P S Y

”PLEASE TYPE IN THE WORD ON THE KEYBOARD TO CONFIRM YOUR ANSWER.”

The words seemed innocent enough at first. But as they read the fine print, a cold chill swept down their spines.

”TAPPING A WRONG LETTER WILL LEAD TO EVERYONE’S ELIMINATION.”

It seems they weren’t done quite yet.

Miu’s eyes widened, the words flashing before her. “Fucking great! All this and now we gotta trust our typing skills? This is bullshit!”

”Wait, everybody. We…we can’t all press at once. If just one of us does it, we’ll probably make a mistake under pressure,” Shuichi gulped hard. “Let’s take turns and go in order. One person types one letter at a time. If we rush it, we’ll- we’ll screw up.”

The others exchanged looks, some nodding, others still shaking slightly. Kyoko, who had been silent until then, gave him a brief, thankful nod. “Okay,” she said. “You can go first, then.”

His fingers were stiff on the keys as he pressed the first letter.

CONFIRM • N _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

”I’ll go next,” Makoto moved quickly.

CONFIRM • N Y _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The others followed suit, each person pressing a letter.

CONFIRM • N Y M _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P H _ _ _ _ _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P H O _ _ _ _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P H O L _ _ _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P H O L E _ _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P H O L E P _ _

CONFIRM • N Y M P H O L E P S _

Miu’s eyes darted back to the screen. One letter left. They were so close. “One more letter…! Someone fucking press ‘Y’!”

Shuichi’s body swayed dangerously. It was his turn. His hand was still hovering over the keyboard, ready to press the final letter. One wrong move, one slip, and they were done. His finger brushed the keyboard, but it was a split-second too late.

He almost hit W, then X—

”Fucking hell, you bar code! Just hit it already!” Miu shouted, her vision getting blurry.

His hand trembled, fingers barely able to grip the keys, and it felt like the noose was about to lift him off his feet. His eyes locked on the last key. ‘Y’. And in one final movement, he tapped it.

CONFIRM • N Y M P H O L E P S Y

For a brief moment, everything seemed to hold its breath. Before any of them could react, their nooses began to descend, the ropes slackening until they were just loose loops around their necks. The unbearable pressure vanished in an instant, allowing them to gulp in deep, desperate breaths.

”GAME CLEAR.”
”CONGRATULATIONS.”

Keisuke let out a dry chuckle, rubbing his sore neck. “Well, that was absolute bullshit.”

”Yeah, no shit!” Miu yanked the noose off and tossing it to the floor. “I swear to god, if I ever play Hangman again, I’m throwing hands with whoever suggests it.”

Makoto rubbed his temples. “I can’t believe ‘nympholepsy’ was the last word. Who even knows that word?”

Shuichi took heavy breaths. “We do now.”

”We’re half an hour late to return to the Mark of the City.” Kyoko adjusted her gloves. “Let’s go.”

After a while, the party returns to the Mark of the City, using the same vehicle as before ro get there. The moment they stepped into inside, the overwhelming frenzy of Shibuya’s underground world hit them like a truck. Music blasted from all directions, the bass shaking the floor beneath their feet. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, alcohol, and something else entirely. The people he’d been with barely exchanged more than a few stiff nods before they broke off into their own separate paths, swallowed by the crowd. Acquaintances. Nothing more, nothing less.

Shuichi’s eyes scanned the scene, but it was all a blur as the colors smudged together like wet paint. It was the usual scene; people drinking straight from bottles, others gambling over stacks of cash, and some…well, they weren’t exactly hiding what they were doing in the darker corners. The place reeked of sweat and booze, a perfect picture of excess and lawlessness.

That’s when he heard someone calling his name. Seeing a familiar face in the madness was a relief he hadn’t. realized he needed. His guide didn’t give him much time to process, though. In a flash, he jumped toward Shuichi dramatically as his arms wrapping around him.

“Yayyy! You survived!” Kokichi exclaimed, his voice high-pitched with that trademark enthusiasm. “I knew you would! There’s no way someone as cool as you would let something like that keep you down.” He pulled out a bottle, twirling it in his hands and offering it to Shuichi. “Wanna shot? You totally earned it, right?”

Shuichi looked at the bottle, then back at Kokichi, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “I’m 18, Kokichi,” he said. “I still can’t drink.”

”Whaaat? C’mon, not even a little sip?”

Shuichi shook his head. “I said no.”

Kokichi’s grin only widened, as if the word “no” had no effect on him whatsoever. He reached into seemingly out of nowhere and pulled out not one, not two, but a whole assortment of carbonated drinks. “Fine, no shot! But you can’t just leave me hanging!” He laughed, placing the drinks in front of Shuichi, practically piling them up. “You’re not getting out of here without having some fun, so try these!”

Shuichi stared at the bottles in disbelief. Each one had a different color, some with glittery fizzing bubbles rising up. He huffed when Kokichi suddenly shoved them in his hands.

“These are way more fun than boring old alcohol anyway!” He chirped, his grin as crooked as a winding road. “Give ‘em a go!”

“Are you seriously trying to get me to drink all of these?” He continued to gaze at the overwhelming stack of drinks, his brain still processing everything. His tone still flat but with an almost exhausted amusement creeping in.

Without warning, he yanked Shuichi by the arm, pulling him through the bustling crowd. “Of course! You’re not escaping that easy!” Kokichi skipped as he dragged him along. “Come on, we’re finding the perfect spot!”

He stumbled a bit, still holding the stack of drinks, but his grip never loosened “Kokichi, wait, slow down!’

”Nishishi! No way!”

For now, the storm had passed, but he couldn’t help but wonder, how long until the next one?

Notes:

Lowkey had to speedrun this bit since my exams start next week and I don't wanna start reviewing knowing you guys probably won't get the next update for another week 💔. Also sorry if there are a lot of skips if you wanted to solve the word, again, I had to write quick. ':< Writing the game was both fun and frustrating, since I had to plan out which letter each player is gonna choose and carefully align the amount of mistakes they make until they form a "stickman". The fun part was choosing the words. I love words!! :D

Lastly, I might change some of the games from the face cards in the future that's fitting for the person. :>

Chapter 17: Ten of Hearts 6.1

Summary:

A toast to happiness. Why must it taste like sorrow?

Notes:

Huzzah! Alice in Borderland finally has a Season 3 release date! Apparently it's gonna come out this September and I'm lowkey excited!! :3 I don't like Arisu's employed haircut though. BRING BACK NO-SHOWER STINKY ARISU!!

Another thing, I'm gonna upload the rest of the Ten of Hearts chapters individually because I know it's probably gonna take forever to upload them all in one go. 💔

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”Ahhh, now that’s the good stuff. Drink up, Shuichi!”

Kokichi sat cross-legged on a makeshift seat (some overturned crate or abandoned bench, who even knew at this point) downing carbonated drinks like they were the lifeblood of the night, each bottle fizzing and popping as he eagerly chugged them down. He tilted his head back, letting the bubbles rush down his throat, and let out an exaggerated gasp of satisfaction after each gulp. Shuichi, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic. He held a half-finished bottle in his hand, eyeing it warily before taking another forced sip. The carbonation burned his throat, making him cough slightly, but his friend(???) wasn’t giving him a choice.

He was nudged with an elbow. “Oh, come on! Don’t be such a baby about it! You survived a death game, but you can’t handle a few drinks?”

”I’m not a baby,” Shuichi exhaled through his nose sharply. “You’re just drinking these way too fast.”

Kokichi grabbed another bottle, already twisting the cap off. “Nah, you’re just slow! Here, chug it! Chug it! Chug it!” He started a fake chant, clapping his hands.

Shuichi shot him a glare, but he only grinned wider, waiting. With a reluctant sigh, he tilted the bottle up and took a bigger sip, one too big. The carbonation burned as it hit the back of his throat, and he immediately coughed, hand flying to his mouth.

“Booooo! You’re terrible!” He pouted before tossing back another bottle like it was water. “Man, these are so much better than alcohol. I can drink all I want, and my brain cells stay perfectly intact! Can’t say the same for you, though.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, looking at the mountain of empty bottles piling up. “I think your body might disagree. You’re going to regret this later.”

“Nah, that’s a future me problem.” Kokichi cracked open yet another bottle and grinned. “Right now, the present me is having the time of his life! So hurry up and catch up, slowpoke!”

And in an instant, the energy of the party shifted. Quieting down for a moment before cheering and screaming once more. Shuichi whipped his head, instinctively tightening his grip on the bottle. Three figures had entered, and even from a distance, they stood out.

The first was a battle-scarred woman with short dark hair and an unreadable expression. She wasn’t flashy, wasn’t loud, but something about her presence made people instinctively step aside. He recognized her; he had seen her before. First, during the Tag game, where their interaction had been brief. Then again at the Council meeting he was unwillingly dragged into. Even now, with cuts lining her arms and a deep scratch on her cheek, she stood like a soldier.

Next to her was a violet haired girl with a grin wider than Kokichi, twirling a pair of sharp scissors between her fingers like she was aching to use them. The most notable feature of all is that her tongue was long, like really long it was quite unsettling.

And the last one, a tall figure clad in dark, layered clothing with a mask covering his face stood slightly apart from the other two. But what stood out the most was the golden sword strapped to his hip, its hilt gleaming even under the dim lights. It looked like it wasn’t just for show.

”Hey, remember that girl there? The one with the black hair from back at Tag?” Kokichi nudged him on the arm with a bottle. “That’s Mukuro, Ultimate Soldier, and the Mark’s best militant sect. With this many people here, there’s bound to be a division of favor in the upper ranks, y’know?” He twirled the drink in his hands absentmindedly. “Effectively, there’s two political factions at the Mark of the City. Junko leads the cult faction and Mukuro leads the militant faction cuz they’re siblings, duh.”

He continued to talk. “Mukuro’s side is the real deal when it comes to violence. They operate like a private military, running raids, executing threats, and keeping order through sheer firepower. If someone crosses the Mark, they’re the ones sent to deal with it. Efficiently.” He tapped his bottle against Shuichi’s. “And by ‘deal with it’, I mean putting a bullet in their skull and dumping it in the back alley. Buuuut I’m not fully sure, though. Never seen her actually kill someone here yet. So if you want peace and quiet here at the Mark of the City, I suggest you don’t mess with them.”

Shuichi’s eyes blinked like a glitched screen. “…And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier why?”

Kokichi blinked, then let out a shameless chuckle. “Oh, yeah! I got too excited showing you around! You know, bright lights, borderline-illegal entertainment, fun little death traps...kinda slipped my mind. My bad!” He smiled, completely unapologetic. “Besides, isn’t it more fun learning this after you’ve already walked into the lion’s den?”

The energy of the party hadn’t completely died, but there was certainly a shift in the atmosphere. The moment the militants stepped further inside, the noise dulled. Conversations hesitated, laughter quieted, and even the most reckless partygoers moved aside. Shuichi felt it before he saw it. The steady footsteps approaching his way. He knew better than to look up, but even averting his eyes didn’t stop the tension in his spine.

”What happened to your friend?” Mukuro asked bluntly.

Shuichi didn’t answer.

She was silent for only a moment before she spoke again. “I see. He died. What a shame.” She tilted her head slightly. “So only the small fish survived.”

Shuichi’s fingers curled at his sides. He didn’t like having his world being taken lightly like that. He wasn’t just a simple 'what a shame'. “You shouldn’t talk about him so lightly,” he said. “Kaito wasn’t just some casualty. He- he gave everything to help the people around him. He deserved more than just being dismissed like that.”

A sharp laugh cut through the moment.

”Hah?! The hell’s this little sad sack goin’ on about!?” The woman with wild purple hair, one of the militants, suddenly stepped forward, her grin widening into something unhinged. “Listen here, you little brat- if you’ve got somethin’ to say, say it with your chest! Or should I carve it into your ribs instead!?” She twirled her razor sharp scissors between her fingers. “The balls on this one! Givin’ lip to the higher-ups like he’s got a death wish–Mukuro! What d’we do about this back-talking little shit, huh? Wanna let me gut him!?”

Blankly, she replied, “Break his legs so that he’ll die in the next game.”

They moved immediately.

Shuichi barely had time to tense before they were crowding around him, blocking off any chance of escape. His eyes darted everywhere for an opening, but before he could react, Kokichi threw his arms up. “Hey, hey, hey! He’s with me!” He huffed, pouting as he pointed at himself. “I’m part of the council too, y’know! You can’t just—”

”Is this a fight?” The voice was casual, almost lazy. But the moment Junko spoke, the entire party stilled. Even the militants hesitated, their movements stopping as she sauntered forward. “As your amazing leader, I’m obliged to maintain order at the Mark of the City.” She smiled, slanting her head slightly. “Could you let off the new kid on my account, Mukuro?”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she and Junko stared at each other for a long, heavy moment. Junko’s gaze shifted to the wild-haired militant, the one still twirling her scissors impatiently. “Syo.”

Syo bared her teeth, cackling under her breath. “Hate to break it to ya, but I only take orders from the boss.”

Junko let out a small scoff before turning her attention back to Mukuro. “Then let me ask your boss,” she glared with the intensity of a thousand swords. “Who is your boss, Mukuro?

The silence stretched, dense with unsaid thoughts. Then, finally, the soldier answered. “It’s you, right?”

Junko exhaled through her nose, almost like a quiet laugh, before her eyes briefly flickered over Mukuro’s appearance–bloodstains, bruises, the remnants of whatever brutal game she had just survived. She wrinkled her nose slightly, unimpressed. “Go take a shower,” she replied flatly, like she was dismissing a stray dog. Then, she turned on her heel and called out, “All executive members are to gather in the meeting room!” The moment she gave the order, people began moving past her, slipping into their designated roles like clockwork. “You’re coming too, Shuichi. I’ve heard somewhat about your potential from Kyoko. So, be a good boy and follow me, yeah?”

*************

Shuichi shifted uncomfortably, his back pressed against the cold wall of the meeting room. The air carried q faint scent of cigarette smoke, gunpowder, and something metallic like dried blood. Every executive member had a seat, but he wasn’t given one, leaving him to stand at the side like an outsider. He wasn’t one of them anyway. No one acknowledged it, nor did he expect them to. He simply adjusted his posture and tried not to let it bother him. The masked man gripping a golden sword met his gaze sharply, making his skin crawl. He looked away quickly.

The woman with long blue hair and glasses strode toward the table with a small stack of cards in her hands. “Two of Spades. Four of Clubs. Three of Hearts. Two of Clubs,” she listed off smoothly, placing them in front of Junko one by one. “We’ve plainly collected all four of them. However—” she paused, adjusting her glasses, ”—we still haven’t found any face cards. Until now, none have surfaced.” She took her seat, looking around. “If face cards don’t exist, then that would mean the only remaining card is the Ten of Hearts.”

At the mention of a Hearts game, Shuichi’s fingers curled slightly. His mind unwillingly drifted back to that game, the Seven of Hearts. He didn’t want to think about it, but the memory forced its way back anyway. It was a game that shattered him in ways he hadn’t known were possible. And now, they were talking about the Ten of Hearts? A game that could only be worse? The thought alone made his throat feel tight.

Kyoko was sitting across from the woman. “If the Ten of Hearts doesn’t appear, then we won’t be able to clear it. That means there’s likely a condition for it to show up.” She tapped a gloved finger against the table in thought. “It’s possible that it isn’t even in Tokyo.”

“A game arena has never been found outside of Tokyo,” Byakuya scoffed, reclining slightly in his chair.

”That doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” she countered, “we haven’t investigated far enough to be certain.”

”It doesn’t change the strategy,” He leaned back slightly, “speculating without evidence is meaningless.”

Junko, who had been quiet up until now, let out a dramatic sigh before clearing her throat. “Alright, listen up, shit-for-brains,” she dragged her nails along the table. “We’ll continue investigating the game arenas in town. Make sure you’ve got enough days left on your Truth Bullets, and keep an eye out for the Ten of Hearts.” She groaned, tilting her head back. “Fuck, I need to replenish my Truth Bullets soon.”

Across the table, Mukuro cast a brief, knowing glance in the direction of two council members, one with a wild grin, idly twirling a pair of scissors, and the other, the masked man with the golden sword. Shuichi didn’t miss it, though he still didn’t know who they were. Then, the blue haired woman leaned forward slightly, a small smile creeping onto her face. “There’s a way to earn Truth Bullets for sure.”

Junko perked up. “Oh? Do tell.”

She smiled. “Hearts games let you toy with the emotions and decisions of others. If you bring along people who don’t mind dying, you’ll survive for sure.” Slowly, her gaze drifted toward Shuichi, lingering a little too long. “Even in the Seven of Hearts game that Shuichi cleared.” A quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “The same thing happened, didn’t it?” Shuichi felt something in his chest tighten. “It’s a game that doesn’t even require you to use your brain!” She finished with an amused lilt to her voice.

Laughter fractured the air, Junko’s head twisting in a way that spoke of broken joints and slack tendons. “Oh, yeah! You did clear a Hearts game, didn’t you?” She grinned, gesturing toward him as if presenting him to the rest of the table. “As someone with actual experience, got any tips for us, Shuichi?”

He remained silent.

Kyoko sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. “Would a Hearts game even appear that conveniently? Besides, we won’t know what type of game it is until registration closes.”

”We should be able to deduce it based on probability theory,” Byakuya scoffed slightly.

Junko’s expression immediately shifted into one of irritation. With a sharp thud, she slammed her hand against the table, cutting him off. “I don’t need some boring pretentious-ass investigation method,” she snapped before pushing herself to her feet. “I’ll join the next game. Whether it’s Hearts or Spades, doesn’t matter. Someone like me, with a fucking perfect win rate, will clear it easily.” She strode across the room, approaching the wall where the marked cards were displayed, her arms stretching outward as if declaring something grand. “I’ll keep playing until the Ten of Hearts appears!" She turned on her heel, flashing a triumphant grin at the room. “The day we collect all the cards and get the hell out of this country is so close!” Then her gaze swept over the council members. “Executive members, I’m counting on you guys to oversee things here.” And, with one final dramatic wave of her hand, she declared, “Meeting adjourned!”

But of course. They weren’t really done quite yet.

Shuichi sat across from Junko, a small table between them adorned with alcohol and a plate of appetizers in a new room. His posture was stiff, his hands resting uneasily on his lap as he watched Junko fiddle with a black-and-white stuffed bear, her fingers curling around its tiny limbs. The presence of guards behind him made it clear, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

She grinned, tilting her head slightly as she glanced at him. “You should drink too, Shuichi.”

After the meeting, he had been brought here for a private conversation, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He hesitated, eyeing the drinks in front of him. He was only eighteen, underage for drinking. His fingers hovered over the cups before he picked the one that seemed the least likely to contain alcohol.

”I also like to enjoy myself before a game,” Junko mused, swirling the liquid in her glass.

He glanced at his cup skeptically, unsure if he should take a sip. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to take anything she handed him at face value.

She let out a short laugh. “There’s no poison in it, dummy!” She stood, reaching across the table to take his glass before bringing it to her lips. Taking a small sip, she set it back down and returned to her seat, watching him expectantly. “See? Totally fine.” She took another sip from her own glass. “You really don’t trust me, huh?”

She didn’t seem offended. If anything, she was entertained. Lifting her own drink, she took a slow sip before speaking again. “I like your prudence. So, what did you do in the original world? Is it true that you’re a detective?”

Shuichi hesitated before giving a short nod. “In-training, yes.”

She smirked. “I was a rising model, y’know? That was the mark of my life.” She rested her elbow on the table and leaned her cheek against her palm. “Ever heard of me?”

He shook his head. Not really. Her name didn’t ring a bell when she first announced it.

Her laugh was loud and exaggerated, like she found the idea ridiculous. “I was famous for quite a while in Kabukicho! I started a lot of trends. It wasn’t official or anything, but people just copied whatever I did. It was almost too easy.” She leaned forward slightly, her grin widening. But when she caught the blank expression on Shuichi’s face, the corner of her smile twitched, faltering just a little. “I was literally everywhere. Billboards, magazines, commercials–you name it.”

He simply shrugged. “All I ever did was ignore my mentor’s practice cases.”

Junko set her glass down with a soft clink against the table. “Did you know? I wanted to be the best in Tokyo…desperately.” Her voice took on a strange, distant quality, like she was speaking to someone who wasn’t there. Slowly, she rose from her seat, beginning to pace in a slow, deliberate circle around the table. “My subordinates all looked up to me. I told them I’d do whatever it takes to rule over this place.”

She made her way to Shuichi’s side and dropped onto the seat next to him. “As a model, it’s all over if your audience looks down on you. No matter how much you’re made to drink… you must never lose your human pride.” Her fingers curled slightly, her nails pressing into her palm. “I instilled that mindset into my subordinates.”

”However…” Her voice trailed off. “That pushed him over the edge. He hanged himself.” A pause, just long enough for her words to sink in Shuichi’s brain. “And then everyone left me. They all disappeared. I…I felt despair.”

He frowned. His stomach turned slightly. “He?”

Junko didn’t answer. Or maybe she just ignored him. She sat there, unmoving for a beat too long, before finally turning toward him with a strange, unreadable look in her eyes. “Now that I think about it,” she murmured, “his death was a necessary evil. In order for me to mature.”

He stared at her, becoming more confused the longer she spoke. “Mature?”

She stood again, this time with more energy, extending her arms as if presenting herself to an invisible audience. “In the Mark of the City, all the players will devote their bodies and lives to me!” Her voice changed again. She gestured toward herself with both hands, her grin widening. “I will be the leader. The one and only leader to succeed in leaving this country! And that is me, Junko Enoshima.” Then, she returned to the table, lifting her glass like she was making a toast. “For a leader, tragedies are needed.” Without hesitation, she extended the cup toward Shuichi, expectant.

Shuichi hesitated.

Junko waited.

After a long pause, he finally reached for a cup of his own.

“To the Mark of the City,” she declared, clinking her glass against his before downing her drink in one go. Shuichi, after watching her for a brief moment, did the same. The moment the liquid hit his tongue, he regretted it. The burn was harsh, bitter, and completely unpleasant. It was almost worse than the carbonated drinks Kokichi would force him to chug. He swallowed it down, but the taste was still there, and he suppressed the urge to cough.

His first time drinking, and he already hated it.

Notes:

Are you guys ready for some nice, juicy saiouma angst in the future? :3

Chapter 18: Ten of Hearts 6.2

Summary:

Two pairs of eyes locked upon the selfsame star. All it takes is one lie to set off a chain reaction, and I’m afraid the butterfly effect has reached him. I have bad news, and he may not like it.

Notes:

Chapter summary is a description from Reverse: 1999!! :3

I think I made Kokichi act a little ooc here... Sorry guys💔. I'm also gonna try to make my chapter summaries more longer :> Also, I introduce you cranky Shuichi in the morning!! I've also made some quick changes: Makoto is now the Ultimate Luck instead of Ultimate Lucky Student! I don't know if there's a difference, but yeah, it's gonna be like that now :3

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The shopping center was silent.

Not just empty, silent. The kind of silence that stretched long and uneasy, where even the softest footsteps seemed to echo endlessly, bouncing off the lifeless walls. A blonde woman walked ahead, her posture straight. Behind her followed a black-haired woman, her face blank and unreadable.

Junko Enoshima extended her arm outward, fingers splayed, as if reaching for something unseen. “A better world isn’t found; it’s created, choice by choice.” She paused, a smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s what he said.”

A mockery of wisdom, twisted into something far more self-serving. She gestured sharply, as though slicing through the air itself. “I will make a land of hope... No, a land of ME. A society where they will crawl to me, cling to me, worship me. And I will be the center of it all! Me. Me, me, me.” Her grin widened, a little too sharp, a little too hungry. “A goddess, a queen, the only thing that matters!”

Mukuro Ikusoba remained silent. She had seen this before–this feverish, all-consuming declaration of purpose. It was something that pulsed in Junko’s veins like a sickness, something that drove her forward, pushing her to tear down and rebuild in her own image.

She watched. She listened. And she said nothing.

*************

The bed was heaven. The guest room was quiet, bathed in the pale gold of morning light. The white sheets were a mess; half kicked off, half twisted around Shuichi’s legs like a trap of his own making. His arm dangled over the edge of the mattress, his fingers twitching slightly, and his face was half-buried in the pillow with his bangs sticking out in a messy sprawl.

It had been so long since he slept like this. The bed was absurdly soft, the air just cool enough, and for once, his mind wasn’t restless, wasn’t constantly reminded of playing death games, wasn’t dragging him back into wakefulness every hour. The world outside didn’t even exist right now. He could stay like this forever. Just a little longer—

”Ohhh, Shuichiii~!”

The sing-song voice shattered the peaceful silence. Shuichi barely flinched, but his brow twitched, and his grip on the pillow tightened.

Kokichi poked his head through the doorway, grinning ear to ear. “Yoo-hoo! Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” The door creaked open fully as he stepped inside, hands tucked behind his back like he hadn’t just committed mild breaking and entering. Not that it would matter considering circumstances. “Time to wake up! Or are you gonna sleep all day?”

Shuichi grumbled.

“Geez, you’re such a grandpa.” Without another word, he made a beeline for the window. The moment the curtains were yanked open, sunlight poured into the room, sharp and blinding.

Shuichi let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a dying animal, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head like a shield. “Go away.”

Kokichi gasped dramatically. “How rude! No ‘good morning, Kokichi, my bestest friend’? No ‘thank you for waking me up’?” He skipped over to the bed, plopping himself down at the edge. “Are you hungover or something?”

“…No.” Shuichi’s voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Ohhh, that pause was suspicious.” He leaned closer. “Aww, is your head all fuzzy? Did you wake up and regret everything?”

Shuichi groaned again, louder this time. “I said go away.”

Kokichi giggled. “That so sounds like something a hungover person would say.”

He cracked one eye open, glaring weakly at him. “Kokichi.”

“Is this any way to treat your wake-up call?” He gasped again, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “I could’ve barged in way earlier, but I was nice enough to let you sleep in, then I open your curtains with love, and this is the thanks I get?”

Shuichi sighed heavily, rubbing his face. “I was having a nice morning…”

“And now it’s even better! You’re welcome,” He beamed.

Shuichi rubbed his eyes as he slowly sat up. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking out in every direction, his mind was still foggy from the deep, rare sleep he’d managed to get. But Kokichi wasn’t going to let him have another moment of peace, was he? Later, he found himself wandering around the Mark of the City alone without the supreme leader (what’s the deal with his label anyway?) to accompany him, claiming he had something important to take care of. So he basically woke him up for no reason? Rude. People stumbled past him, laughing loudly, reeking of alcohol and sweat. Some were barely clothed, their outfits either shredded from carelessness or abandoned entirely. A woman sat on a store counter, her shirt half-unbuttoned, legs spread over a man’s lap as they whispered into each other’s mouths, making his face burn as he quickly looked away.

He took a deep breath before he began to gather bits and pieces of information as he moved through the shopping center, talking to people who were willing, or just drunk enough, to share what they knew.

One guy, lounging outside a convenience store turned liquor stand, mentioned something strange about the suburbs. He and some others had driven out there, but the further they went, the more the city seemed to fall apart. The streets cracked, buildings crumbled, and beyond a certain point, it stopped looking like civilization at all.

Elsewhere, a girl chatting with a group of friends near the old arcade talked about the game arenas. Every arena seemed to be inside Tokyo, as if the city itself had been turned into a playground. There was no mention of fights happening outside like everything had been deliberately contained.

Another group, huddled around a small firepit made from a pile of old furniture, shared rumors about escape attempts. Someone had tried fleeing by boat, but before they could get far, the red lasers would rain down from the sky. Shuichi barely had time to process that before someone else in the group dug deeper into the topic, was it only people inside Tokyo who were disappearing? If this was only affecting Tokyo, why hadn’t the Self-Defense Forces stepped in? Why hadn’t Japan sent anyone to rescue them? And worse, what if it wasn’t just Japan? What if the entire world had vanished?

Their conversation shifted into something inappropriate right after.

Another guy, loitering near a betting stall, leaned in conspiratorially. His voice was low, but his words were ridiculous, he believed aliens had implanted chips in their brains and were playing with them like puppets. He didn’t think anyone could escape.

Shuichi left that one alone.

He arrived at the main lobby, walking wherever his legs could take them. The more he heard, the more depressing it got. His only hope might really be those playing cards. He let out a sigh, rubbing his temple. So much for trying to make my uncle proud. He headed to one of the more secluded parts of the Mark. It was nice and quiet. A rare reprieve. Then, that was when he spotted them.

Two girls stood near the entrance of a secluded store, speaking in hushed voices. One was small, wearing a loose hoodie over a simple dress, her auburn hair slightly messy. The other was taller, with long dark hair tied into a high ponytail, wearing a sleeveless top and capri pants. Shuichi was sure he’d seen them before, though he didn’t know their names. If they were familiar, then maybe they had useful information.

He decided to approach them. “Hey, excuse me! Do you guys mind if I ask you something?”

The redhead stiffened. The taller girl grabbed her hand. Then, without a word, they turned and sprinted off.

Shuichi barely had time to react. “Wait- I’m not trying to hit on you!” His shoulders slumped. Well, that went nowhere… He decided to go somewhere else and ask more there, perhaps on the other sid—

Thud!

A dull, heavy noise echoed from further down the hall. He froze for a moment. Where did that sound come from again…? The further he walked, the more the noise of the crowd faded, replaced by stillness. He found a group of people casually exiting a nearby alleyway, chatting among themselves as if nothing was wrong. He slowed his steps, watching as they disappeared into the next room.

All of a sudden, he smelled something. Thick. Overwhelming.

He recoiled instantly, a sharp grimace crossing his face. Something seemed to stink the moment he stepped further into the room. His first thought was that something had been left out to rot, maybe spoiled food, some garbage left too long in the heat. But no, this was different. This wasn’t just garbage. It was stronger, heavier. A smell that set off every alarm in his brain. Had an animal died here? But that wouldn’t explain the sheer intensity of it. Was there a gas leak? No, gas wouldn’t smell like this.

Then, a dumpster came into view, the lid slightly ajar. A dark stain pooled beneath it, seeping into the pavement. He had a feeling he already knew what was inside, yet he brought himself to check anyway. He reached forward, fingers trembling as he grasped the edge of the lid. He hesitated for just a second, then slowly lifted it.

Corpses.

Piled inside, tangled together, limbs limp and contorted in unnatural angles. Their skin was bloated, some already discolored with rot. Their faces what was left of them were slack, hollow, empty. Some had eyes wide open, staring into nothing, frozen in terror. Others had their mouths agape, as if they had died mid-scream. He gagged at the stench, and quickly closed the lid back. He took a step back and stood still, his gaze locked onto the dumpster, as if it would grow legs and walk away. But his eyes don’t deceive him.

”The most known rule at the Mark of the City,” a monotonous voice appeared out of nowhere. “‘Death to all traitors.’”

Shuichi whipped his head to face the person who spoke. Her red eyes met his without hesitation, her stance firm as if daring him to argue. “Maki? Wait, what do you mean ‘traitors?”

”They all tried to run away from the Mark of the City,” she answered plainly. “Once you’re in, you don’t leave. Ever.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Are you saying no one has ever escaped?”

She exhaled sharply. “Not alive.”

”So…they just kill anyone who tries to leave?”

She gave the slightest shrug. “Most don’t even try after hearing about what happens to the ones who do.”

He clenched his fists. “It…sounds like a cult. Does the council enforce these rules?”

”Obviously,” she replied flatly, “and it’s not just them. Everyone follows the same rule, whether they want to or not. If a traitor gets caught, people look the other way. No one interferes. No one asks questions. If you make trouble, you end up in the same place as them.”

He looked back at the dumpster, the sick feeling in his gut growing stronger. “And everyone’s just…fine with that?”

”Do you think they have a choice?” Her eyes narrowed.

He hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “What about the others? The ones that weren’t running away?”

She didn’t even blink. “The injured or sick.”

”What? But there are doctors here, right? People who can help them?” His brows furrowed.

”There are,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t matter. If you take a mortal wound during a game, there’s not much anyone can do. Even the best doctors can’t bring back someone who’s already dying.”

His jaw tensed. “So they just…get dumped here like trash?”

Maki didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was firm, but there was something almost distant in her expression. “The council makes sure no one sees them,” she finally said. “As far as everyone is concerned, they just disappear. That way, everyone still believes this place is ‘paradise’ and they obediently collect the cards.”

He turned back to her, studying her carefully. “But, why are you telling me this?”

She met his gaze without hesitation. “Because you’re going to find out one way or another.” Then she took a deep inhale. “To be blunt, can I ask you a question?” she paused for a moment before continuing. “In this world of despair, how do you live?”

Shuichi was, well, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question at all. He cleared his throat. “My goal…my goal is to find who’s running all these games, and to avenge my friends.”

”That’s a good goal. Though quite impossible.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her voice quieter as she stared into his soul. “Listen, Shuichi. Be careful of who you trust.”

His face crumpled like a misplaced receipt. “What do you mean?”

”I mean Kokichi,” she said firmly, “he’s dangerous. If you think you understand him, you don’t. He doesn’t just lie. He wraps people up in his lies so tightly they can’t tell what’s real anymore. He makes you think you’re making your own choices, but the truth is, you’re just playing into his hands. He doesn’t even care about anyone but himself. Not to mention he’s also a complete asshole…”

He stiffened at that, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think he’s that manipulative. He’s unpredictable, sure, but—”

“Not just unpredictable. He lies as easily as he breathes, and you’re too willing to listen. Once you’ve done your purpose to him, he’ll toss you aside without a second thought.”

Shuichi wanted to argue, to say that Kokichi was more than just a liar, he was his guide, but Maki’s cold stare made it hard to speak. “Then…what do you think I should do?”

“Keep your distance,” she advised, “you want to survive, right? Then stop letting yourself be his pawn.”

The silence settled between them. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with her. But he also wasn’t sure if she was wrong. Kokichi lied, that much was obvious, but was it really as dangerous as she made it seem? He tried to recall everything Kokichi had done since the moment they met. But before he could dwell on that thought further, a loud, familiar voice shattered the quiet.

”There you areeeeee!!! I finally found youuuu!!!”

Shuichi barely had a second to react before a weight crashed onto his shoulders, nearly sending him forward. He flinched as Kokichi draped himself over his back with his arms lazily hanging around his neck and a wide grin plastered on his face.

”Geez, Shuichi, I give you an inch and you take a mile! I said you could wander, not get yourself lost in the middle of nowhere!” His grip tightened around his neck ever so slightly as he leaned closer. He could hear the smirk in his voice against his ear. “I was starting to think I’d have to put you on a leash.” Before the detective could shake him off, Kokichi abruptly slid off his shoulders and grabbed his wrist instead, yanking him forward. “Alrighty, let’s go, Shuichi!!! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

Shuichi stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet as Kokichi pulled him along. “Wait—”

”Nope, no waiting! You've had your little adventure, now it’s time to come back to me!” He shot him a broadened simper, all teeth, tugging insistently. “Seriously, what were you doing all the way out here? You make one wrong turn, and suddenly, I gotta send out a search party. I shoulda known you’d be a handful!”

Shuichi instinctively glanced back. Maki hadn’t moved. She simply stood there, arms crossed, staring. But her eyes were locked onto Kokichi, sharp as knives. A silent warning. The third party noticed but he chose not to acknowledge her. He just kept walking, dragging Shuichi along without hesitation. It was like he wanted to leave before she could say another word.

The moment they were in an environment without Maki around, Shuichi frowned, trying to pull back a little. “I was just—”

“Oh, I know what you were just doing.” Kokichi interrupted, his voice taking on a sing-song lilt. “Getting all buddy-buddy with Maki Harukawa, of all people! You do know what she is, right?”

The detective hang back. Of course he knew.

“Ultimate Assassin,” he continued, answering for him. “Y’know, someone who literally gets paid to kill people? Someone who was raised to be a murderer? Ohhh, but she tells you not to trust me, and you just listen?” He let out a laugh, short and sharp. “Wow, I feel so betrayed.”

”It’s not like that…” He muttered, but Kokichi wasn’t finished.

“She’s used to it, y’know. Death. Violence. People getting thrown away like garbage.” He leaned forward. “Maybe she didn’t personally dump those bodies, which I’m sure you already saw, but do you think she cares?”

Maki had warned him not to trust Kokichi. Now Kokichi was warning him not to trust Maki. Their reasoning was different, but the intent was the same. And yet, neither of them seemed to be lying. “…She had a point about you, though,” he mumbled, testing the waters.

He let out an exaggerated gasp, yanking him just a bit closer as he pressed a hand to his chest like he had been gravely insulted. “What?! Me?! Oh, Shuichi, how could you let a cold-blooded killer slander my good name?!” Then, just as quickly, his tone dropped. “I mean, sure, I lie, but at least I don’t, y’know murder people.” He glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You should be more careful about who you believe.”

Shuichi had no reply to that.

*************

The engine purred, but Junko didn’t tell the driver to move just yet. She lounged back in the seat, one leg crossed over the other, taking in the chorus of cheers surrounding her. The crowd was eating it up–praising her, hyping her up, showering her with words of admiration. She soaked it all in, a slow smirk curling her lips.

Meanwhile, in the quieter halls of the Mark of the City, Shuichi found himself being dragged more than walked, Kokichi’s arm wrapped around his like they were the best of friends. “You really don’t like sweets, huh, Shuichi?” He mused, dangling a small box of pastel-colored candies in front of him.

He sighed. “I didn’t say that.”

”Then why do you keep making that grumpy face?" Kokichi plucked one from the box and popping it into his mouth. Then, without warning, he pressed another into Shuichi’s hand. “Here! Try one! I swear I’m not poisoning you…this time.” Shuichi shot him a tired look but humored him, biting into the candy. It was unexpectedly good, sweet with a slight tang. The supreme leader smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I do know what I’m doing.”

Shuichi exhaled, his mind too weighed down to respond properly. There were so many things to think about. The Ten of Hearts, and how cruel it’s going to be. Then there was the Mark of the City council. And then…there was Kokichi and Maki. Each of them had warned him against the other, spinning their own versions of the truth. Shuichi didn’t trust either of them completely, but for now, he was stuck in the middle. And above all of that, there was his own goal. Kaito and Kaede. They should still be here. They should have survived. No matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he wished he could change the past, all he could do now was move forward.

”Hey, Shuichi. Do you want…” Kokichi paused, drawing out the moment. “...a ticket out of here? The Borderlands, I mean. Do you wanna leave already?”

The detective blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “...What?”

Kokichi hummed, his grip on him tightening ever so slightly. “Junko’s making sure she keeps control of the militant corps, but it’s only a matter of time before they retaliate.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if that happens, this place will be run by a bunch of brainless idiots with guns. Then it’s cut and run.”

Shuichi narrowed his eyes. There was something off about the way Kokichi spoke. “What are you planning?”

”I’m planning to steal all the playing cards.” His tone was light, almost playful, as if he were discussing a harmless prank. Then, with a tilt of his head, he added, “Wanna help me? I could use it.”

He took a deep inhale before responding, “Let’s talk first.”

Chapter 19: Ten of Hearts 6.3

Summary:

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

Notes:

One word is all you need to get the gist of this chapter.

(P.S. I’m sorry if Toko and Syo’s shifts are inaccurate to actual DID shifts. I just realized this after I posted this. I won’t edit this chapter (maybe) but I’ll try my best to get it correctly in future chapters featuring them. <3)

________________________________

Makoto’s footsteps pounded against the cold floor as he sprinted through the empty halls. He needed to find Kyoko. He nearly slammed into the door of the forensic lab in his rush, but he barely had time to steady himself before pushing it open.

“Kyoko! Kyoko, you gotta—”

The words immediately died in his throat.

A body lay sprawled out on the metal table, completely stripped bare. Its skull had been carefully cut open, the bone peeled back to reveal the brain underneath. Kyoko stood over it, meticulously examining something inside.

Makoto paled instantly. His stomach lurched and he slapped his hands over his eyes. “Oh God, why- why is it open?!”

Kyoko didn’t look up. “Because I’m in the middle of an autopsy.”

“That’s not an autopsy, that’s—” Makoto shook his head, still shielding himself from the horrific sight. “No, nope, I don’t even want to know! Just- Kyoko, you need to come with me! Now!”

She let out a small sigh, wiping her gloved hands clean. “Maybe another time. I’m a bit busy.”

“Yeah, I can see that except I really don’t want to,” he said, still keeping his hand firmly over his face. “But you really need to come with me! Something happened, and—” He hesitated, his fingers curling slightly. “It’s just important, okay? You’ll see!”

She paused, then glanced back at him. “How important?”

Makoto swallowed. “I mean Junko’s involved.”

The female detective was silent for a moment, then, without a word, she pulled off her surgical gloves to wear her usual ones. “Lead the way.”

Meanwhile, Shuichi walked down the long, empty hallway. His footsteps echoed off the walls with each one being louder than the last. As he passed by, he noticed two men standing at the far end, their eyes trained on him. They weren’t going to let him slip by unnoticed.

A man looked him up and down. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping forward with a slight swagger, blocking Shuichi’s way.

The other guy stood still, with arms crossed over his chest. “Get out,” he said, “this isn’t your business.”

Shuichi froze for a moment, and he wasn't sure how to respond. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a voice cut through the air–a woman’s stuttery voice and shaky voice. She appeared from around the corner, her long twinbraids swaying as she walked. This woman looked almost fragile, her eyes wide and nervous. Not like the girl who carried scissors with her. Is this perhaps a twin? “W- what do you want?” she stammered. “No one asked for you to be here!”

Before he could process it, another voice chimed in, almost playful, like a child who wasn’t concerned by the tense situation. Kokichi popped into view, grinning widely. “Actually, I asked him to come,” he said cheerfully, “y’know, because we’re buddies.” He flashed an innocent smile, as though the two men and the nervous woman didn’t even matter.

She whipped around to face him. “Who says you can just summon people like that?”

Kokichi didn’t even flinch. He simply shrugged, still smiling. “I’ve already invited him before, anyway,” he responded casually, “It’s just when Syo’s around.” He glanced briefly at Shuichi, as if remembering something. “There’s something important he needs to hear. Come on, Shuichi.” He waved him forward with an carefree gesture.

Shuichi and Kokichi stepped into the spacious meeting room, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. It felt like the whole room was holding its breath. The room was filled with the usual executive members, a few guards standing watch, but all attention was focused on one thing: a body lying on the table. The body was unmoving, lifeless. It was Junko Enoshima, her once flamboyant presence now reduced to a cold, silent corpse.

After a few moments, the door opened again, and Makoto and Kyoko entered the room together. He was the first to break the silence, his voice flat as he stared at Junko’s body. “Apparently, she couldn’t clear her game.” His eyes didn’t leaving the corpse. “The maintenance team just happened to find her in Shinjuku while we were filling up with gas.”

Kyoko, ever the professional, instinctively approached the body. Her fingers hovered near Junko’s form but never quite touched. She leaned in, her eyes scanning for any obvious signs. The woman with twinbraids shifted nervously, her eyes flicked from the female detective to the body. “Can you not?” she snapped. “You’re so o- obsessed with dissecting things. It’s so weird…”

She didn’t speak a word, but her eyes sharpened as she noticed something near Junko’s heart. She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing. “This is from a bullet. Did the game she was playing involve guns?”

“Seems like it,” Makoto answered, “people around the game area heard gunshots.”

Shuichi, however, felt a bit uncomfortable. He glanced at Kokichi, who was standing silently beside him. Their eyes met for a split second, and without a word, Kokichi gave a soft shake of his head, his smile still in place, though it held no warmth. It was a quiet acknowledgment; one that left him with more questions than answers.

One of the guards swallowed. “So now what? What happens to the Mark of the City?”

The woman with long blue hair and glasses spoke softly, but her tone brooked no argument. “I suggest nobody says a word about this.” Her gaze swept across the room. “We don’t want people freaking out.”

The twinbraids woman cleared her throat. “I- I suggest we choose...the strongest person to be our next leader.” She gestured vaguely, her hands shaking. “In case you don’t know, we’ve been...g- getting rid of the traitors. Well, she is,” she corrected herself, clearing her throat again. “S- Since this elitist dictator is dead, the power now shifts. Let’s…be democratic and go with the majority.” She glanced around the room, her eyes darting from person to person. “Who’s with me and thinks that Mukuro should be our new leader...?”

There was a long silence. No one responded. She sighed in frustration, pulling something from her belt–a taser. Then, she pressed it to her head. “You guys are forcing me to let her out again...” she mumbled under her breath, her fingers tightening on the taser. When no one spoke up to stop her, she huffed. “You- You must really like her if you’re not stopping me, then...”

Mukuro interrupted her. “So be it, and let her out.”

Her expression twisted, and before Shuichi could react–before he could even process what was happening–she activated the taser. Her body jerked, and a strange transformation began to take hold. Her eyes glowed bright red, and her tongue became unnaturally long. Her voice turned into a sickeningly sweet, yet deadly sounding.

“Gotta kiiill! Kill kill kill kill! I feel like I wanna chop somebody!” Syo giggled maniacally, her hands making dramatic slicing gestures in the air as she pulled out her signature pair of scissors. She looked down at Junko’s body with a crooked grin. “Ooooh, this is delicious,” she purred. “I could just start slicin’ right here! A perfect way to really celebrate, huh? Can’t believe little miss likes-black-and-white-bears died so quickly!”

This made Shuichi even more confused as his brows furrowed. His eyes shifted to Kokichi again, silently pleading for some kind of context. The supreme leader could only offer a half-smile and a shrug. “Oh, she has Dissociative Identity Disorder,” he stated lightly, as though discussing the weather. “Toko is the nervous and fidgety one–the Ultimate Writing Prodigy, while Syo is, uh, the killer counterpart–the Ultimate Murderous Fiend. You’ll get used to it...or not.”

”Oh-ho-ho, so does this mean we finally get a new leader?” Syo piped up excitedly, poking Junko’s legs with the tip of her sharp blades. “I say we vote Mukuro! Violence is always the answer to everything! Don’t you agree?”

Silence once more, her patience thins. Her red eyes snap to the man in the mask, standing at peace in the corner. “Hey kooky.” She lifts her head up, as if it were a signal to something. Wordlessly, he grabs his golden sword and steps forward to Kyoko, the tip of the blade slowly tracing to her neck.

”So… Do you guys still want Mukuro as our new leader?” She said. “Raise your hand if you agree!

Kyoko stood motionless, her body suspended in a moment of unnatural stillness, as if her soul had momentarily abandoned her limbs. For what felt like an eternity, she was trapped in the unblinking stare of the predator before her. Then, with a guttural snort, she broke the silence. Her hand rose, like she was swatting away a pesterous fly, which made Shuichi’s brow knitted further at the relevation.

”This,” the woman in glasses clicked her tongue, “is not democracy.”

Syo scoffed and began to circle around her as she remained unmoving. “Democracy? Oh, but I think it is, isn’t it?” She wrapped two pairs of scissors around her neck as she stood behind her. “No pressure or anything, of course… You can vote whoever you want to, anyway. Right, Tsumugi?”

Speechlessly, the woman with blue hair–Tsumugi–hesitated, her hand lifting to hover in the air with a plainly blank face.

The murderous fiend giggled, and her eyes darted between the others. “So, any other takers? C’mon, don’t be shy! This is how democracy works, right? No pressure, but if I don’t see more hands, well…I might just have to start snipping.” Then she turned to the blond. “What about you over there, pretty boy? What do you think?”

Byakuya looked at Syo up and down with a disgusted glare, and scoffed. “I will not allow myself to be—”

He was quickly interrupted when she threw one of her scissors flew to his direction, merely cutting off a few pieces of his hair, as it slid through the side of his head. The scissors landed directly at the portrait of the Queen of Diamonds on the huge card wall marked with red crosses. She watched expectantly as he raised his hand with a roll of his eye. A guard next to him followed suit when she spun around and met eyes with Kokichi. She grinned, flashing her sharpened canines. “And you?” she cooed, waggling her scissors at him. Kokichi only smiled, tilting his head slightlyy. His silence made her eye twitch. Syo pouted exaggeratedly, shifting her voice into a high-pitched baby tone. “Kowkichi, you’we not wooking down on wittle old me, awe ya?”

Kokichi merely raised an eyebrow. “Who? The morons in the corps?”

Syo snickered sharply, but the blades of her scissors drifted closer to his neck, close enough that he could feel the faintest brush of metal against his skin. “Ugh, your stupid smug face makes me wanna shank you sometimes, y’know?” she hissed. “You really think you’re hot stuff, huh?”

He chuckled and raised both his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, I vote for Mukuro to be the leader,” he said simply, his gaze flicking briefly to the blade still hovering near his neck. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you want to hear, riiight?”

She scoffed and finally pulled her scissors away. “Well, let this be a reminder of how you should act in the future.” She twirled the blades between her fingers before her eyes landed on Shuichi, who stood frozen in place, still processing the situation. “Hey, why are you looking so freaked out, Hot Topic regular?” she teased.

Shuichi failed to respond, still caught in his daze. Syo’s grin broadened as she abruptly stepped toward him, making him instinctively take a step back. Before he could react, the tip of her scissors hovered dangerously close to his chest. “I thought I told you to give me an answer,” she replied sweetly, though the glint in her eyes was anything but gentle. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Before Shuichi could stammer out a reply, movement caught his attention. The masked man drifted away from his spot near Kyoko in an eerily graceful way, approaching beside him. Without a word, he raised his own blade and pointed it in Shuichi’s direction. She laughed, inclining her head. “Awww, just about to shit your pants, huh?” She absentmindedly played with her scissors, flipping them around. Her eyes went to his expression, and when he hesitantly lifted his hand, she cackled. “KYAHAHAHAHAAHAHA! Look at his face! Priceless!”

One by one, the others hesitantly raised their hands. Fear was painted all over their faces, exactly the reaction she wanted. “Now we’re talking!” she practically squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet in giddy excitement. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her scissors snapped shut with a sharp snick just to watch a few of them flinch. “Ahhh, I love democracy! We have a new leader now! Isn’t that amazing?”

”Junko wouldn’t allow this,” Tsumugi said, lowering her hand back down. “If she were alive, she would not have allowed this.”

“But she’s not alive, right?!” Syo cackled, skipping over to Junko’s lifeless body. Without hesitation, she smacked her across the face with the flat side of her scissors. “See? Nothing! Nada! Zilch!” She hit her again–thwack–and again–thwack!–each slap punctuated by another wild giggle. She struck her again, harder this time, before leaning in mockingly close. “C’mon, say something, oh great and powerful Enoshima! Any words of wisdom from beyond the graaave?”

Silence.

”No? Nothing? Well, if you’re not gonna do anything…” With gleeful enthusiasm, she drove her scissors into Junko’s torso, twisting the blades before yanking them out in a messy spray of dried blood. “See?! See?!—”

Just as she lifted the weapon again, ready to stab one more time, “That’s enough.” Mukuro’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Syo froze mid-motion, her manic energy still crackling in the air. Then, slowly, she straightened, licking the blood on her blades clean, as she turned to face Mukuro. “From this day onwards, I will be the Mark of the City’s new leader.”

Syo clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and mocking. “Yeah, let’s hear it for the queen, huh?” she jeered, flashing a grin at the others, who barely reacted–whether from fear or sheer disbelief. Then, she turned back to the soldier, tilting her head with an exaggerated pout. “So, lady boss, what’s next? Time for the big, fancy succession ceremony?” she said. “Maybe you oughta crack open that blackened envelope and make it all official, huh?”

Mukuro gave a short nod. “You’re all free to go.”

There was a long, tense silence before the others finally processed her words. Shuichi let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Tsumugi looked dazed, her eyes moving between Junko’s lifeless body and Mukuro, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. One by one, the others hesitantly began moving toward the exit. As the others slowly dispersed, Kokichi fell into step beside Shuichi, hands tucked into his pockets. The detective still looked shaken, his eyes darting to the bloodstains left in the room before focusing straight ahead.

Kokichi let out a hum, rocking on his heels as they walked. “Sooo, you really were about to pee your pants back there, huh?”

Shuichi shot him a flat glare. “I was not.”

“You looked sooo nervous! I thought you were gonna drop dead before Syo even got the chance to stab you.”

He huffed as he rubbed his temples. “I had a knife pointed at me. Two, actually. How was I supposed to react?” He glanced out at the scenery out the window then back to him. “...Kokichi, what’s the ‘blackened envelope’?”

”I’ve been waiting for you to ask that question!” He stretched his arms behind his head as they walked, a smug little smile playing on his lips. “The blackened envelope. All the playing cards collected by the Mark of the City are kept in the safe of Junko’s royal suite. And that safe? Ohhh, it’s got a very special lock. The code to open it is sealed inside a super-duper secret envelope.”

“So…the only way to get into the safe is to open the envelope?” Shuichi hummed.

“Ding ding ding! But it’s not just lying around for anyone to grab, duh! The envelope’s hidden away in some super secret location. And the only time it ever gets opened is when there’s a new leader.”

He drew his brows together. “Then Mukuro…”

Kokichi wagged a finger. “Mhmm! She’s gotta open it in front of the executives. But here’s the fun part! Only the leader gets to see the code inside. Then, they have to write it down on a new piece of paper, stuff it into a fresh envelope, and seal it all over again.”

“And that’s the new blackened envelope?”

“Yup!” he beamed, “And every executive has to sign it before it gets tucked away again.”

Shuichi let all that sink in, crossing his arms. “…How do you know all this?”

“Seeecreeet~!”

***********************

The main lobby was packed with people, their hushed voices mixing together into a cacophony. Atop the grand balcony overlooking the crowd, Toko stood stiffly, her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. Her posture was tense, shoulders drawn inward as if she wished to disappear entirely. She took a shaky breath and cleared her throat, though it did little to steady her nerves.

“I- I’m here to tell you…” Her voice wavered at first, barely carrying over the restless murmuring below. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. “We have a new leader.”

People began to mutter. Some spoke in confusion, others in disbelief.

“Junko… Junko is no longer with us,” Toko went on, “and that leader has been chosen. Th- The new leader is…Mukuro.”

The murmuring grew louder.

Toko’s patience snapped. “Shut up, all of you!” she barked. A heavy silence fell and every eye was on her now. She hesitated for only a second before pressing on. “It seems as though Junko failed in her game… She just couldn’t crack it. A vote was taken, and- and the executive was unanimous. Mukuro was voted as our new leader.” She stepped aside, making way for the one who now stood at the helm. “You better all listen c- carefully…!”

Mukuro stepped forward, allowing the silence to linger before speaking. “…Toko,” a small pause, “said everything that needed to be said.”

Kokichi pressed his back against the wall on an upper floor, glancing down at the crowd below. He gripped a walkie-talkie, whispering hushedly. “All right, the new leader is making a speech in the lobby.”

Shuichi, a few floors away, listened in silence. He wasn’t sure why, but he chose to trust Kokichi over Maki. It might have been a dumb choice (Maki had warned him plenty) but he knew Kokichi longer. And right now, Kokichi’s plan was his best option. It wasn't like Maki told him any sort of plan either. The plan was simple: Shuichi would infiltrate the royal suite, locate the safe, and steal all the playing cards inside. Kokichi knew the code and would relay it to him when the time came. Miu, who had begrudgingly agreed to help, was on lookout duty. She had been furious and annoyed when she found out Shuichi was involved.

Now, through the walkie-talkie, Kokichi’s voice came through again. “All members of the executive and the militant corps are here at the lobby. We’re not gonna get another chance like this, so try not to be screw-ups. Especially you, Miu.”

A faint hiss of static, followed by a whispering, venomous reply. “Fuck you, too.”

He snickered. “Well, I’ll let you guys know if there are any changes here.” Then, his tone suddenly softened, almost sweet. “I’m counting on you, Shuichi!”

The detective paused for a second before replying, warily. “...Copy that.”

Shuichi crept into Junko’s royal suite, every sound amplified in his ears. His pulse pounded, thoughts racing back to what Maki had told him yesterday. ”Keep your distance. You want to survive, right? Then stop letting yourself be his pawn.” And Kokichi’s so casual, yet pointed words. ”I mean, sure, I lie, but at least I don’t, y’know, murder people. You should be more careful about who you believe.” But what choice did he have? The only favorable option right now was Kokichi’s plan.

Carefully, He started his search. Under the bed, nothing. Inside the drawers, empty. He moved quickly, but not recklessness. Then, as his gaze landed on the closet, a strange intuition struck him. He slid it open, and there it was, the safe. Adrenaline surged through him as he pressed the walkie-talkie to his lips. “I found it.” He knelt in front of the small safe. “Kokichi, what’s the code?”

Slowly, he responded, “2-1-6-4-5-3-0.”

Shuichi hovered his fingers over the keypad but hesitated. “You saw what was in the letter?”

”Nope, but it was simple! Well, kinda. I mean, it was basically the most ridiculous, roundabout, absolutely insane way to get a code ever!” He let out a hum before continuing, his tone oddly giddy. “See, I remembered something very specific about Junko. One time, when I was flipping through an old magazine about her–I don’t remember the details, ‘cause, y’know, boring–I noticed that a bunch of her shoots had this weird thing going on with the numbers in the background. Like, I dunno if it was just a coincidence or some super secret mastermind-level branding, but the same sets of numbers kept popping up.”

Shuichi scrunched his eyebrows. “Numbers?”

”Yep! They were all over the place–on fake price tags, in the corner of pages, even subtly printed on some of her outfits. At first, I thought, ‘Wow, what a weird obsession’. But then I dug a little deeper. I compared ‘em across different magazines, different years, different themes—and boom! One particular set stood out. Wanna guess which one?”

Shuichi didn’t answer. Kokichi guffawed.

”That’s right! 2-1-6-4-5-3-0! So I thought, ‘Well, it’d be hilarious if Junko, the so-called Ultimate Despair, actually used one of her modeling gimmicks as a security code.’ But then, get this, I flipped the numbers upside down just for fun, and guess what? They kinda, sorta, vaguely looked like they spelled ‘DESPAIR.’ How fitting is that?!” He let out a giggle. “Honestly, I don’t even know if Junko did that on purpose or if she’s just that predictable, but hey, I went with my gut, and here we are!”

Shuichi blinked at the explanation. His stomach churned uneasily, but he shook it off and refocused. He reached out and pressed the numbers Kokichi had given him. 2-1-6-4-5-3-0. Enter.

The alarm shrieked to life.

Shuichi’s breath hitched. “It’s not opening!” His fingers scrambled at the keypad, but nothing changed. Panic surged through his veins. “Kokichi! Kokichi, are you there?!”

A voice from behind sent a jolt through his spine. “Wow, I- I gotta hand it to you…”

Shuichi whipped around, heart hammering. Toko stood a few feet away, arms crossed, a nervous yet oddly amused smile twitching on her face. “You really got some balls.”

His gaze flickered past her. Mukuro stood behind her, face blank, unreadable. And then, just beyond them, another figure stepped forward.

Kokichi.

He was flipping his walkie-talkie idly in his hand, wearing a smirk. It was blank, unreadable, just like Mukuro.

Shuichi’s blood ran cold.

What?

Why?

Why would Kokichi do this? He had led him here. He had guided him with hope, reassured him (in his own way), and told him he was counting on him. And now he was standing there, indifferent, as if none of it had mattered. Had it ever mattered to Kokichi in the first place?

The world caved in around him. The truth he had been clawing for was nothing but a lie wrapped in silk, fed to him with a sweet smile. Shuichi swallowed hard. “Why would you...” His voice cracked before he could finish. It sounded so small, so weak.

The liar tilted his head with that ever-present grin never faltering.

Toko shifted on her feet, her fingers twitching at her sides. “A- ahaha, w- well, y’know… I’m not exactly a fan of blood and violence, so…” Her nervous laughter wavered, her eyes darting to the others before she let out a frustrated huff. “Ugh, whatever! Might as well let her handle this!” She lifted a shaking hand to her head, pressing the taser against her temple. “Night-night, nerd.” A sharp jolt came and her body convulsed for a second before she slumped forward, gasping.

And then, a manic grin stretched across her face.

”KYAHAHAHA-HEHE-HAHA!” Syo threw her head back, cackling. Her gleaming eyes darted around the room before landing on Shuichi. She seemed to have assessed the situation quickly. “Ooh, what do we have here? A sneaky little rat trying to snatch up our collected cards?! Kinda hot, not gonna lie! But do you know how long it took to get all that?!” she said. “Naughty, naughty!”

Shuichi instinctively took a step forward, his hands slightly raised. “Wait, let me explai—”

Before he could finish, Syo was already on him. With unnatural speed, she slammed him down, his body hitting the floor with a brutal thud. Pain exploded across his skull, a hot, pulsing wound opening up on his forehead as he hit the ground. His vision flashes white, as he barely registered her shrieking laughter.

His body ached, but his heart ached worse.

It felt like a Hearts game.

“KYAHAHAHA! You should be grateful! I could’ve just snipped you into little ribbons, but where’s the fun in that? You deserve a better punishment!” She cackled, her foot pressing down on his back, pinning him like some pathetic insect under her heel. Her foot slammed into his side. Once. Twice. Again. The impact rattled through his body, each kick driving sharp pain into his ribs. Warm blood trickled down his face, the coppery scent filling his nose.

Everything was spinning, but one thing was crystal clear—Kokichi had set him up.

Why?

It all came to that one three-letter word again.

Was Maki right all along? Should he have trusted a killer over a liar this whole time?

What about the time when he dragged him away from the streets to give him hope? Was that all part of the plan? His plan?

Liar! Deceiver!

That’s all Kokichi had ever been, wasn’t he? He should’ve known better. Even knowing what kind of person he was, he had let himself be led along. He had ignored every warning. Maki’s. His own instincts. Every small, nagging doubt that told him this wasn’t right. He should’ve trusted everyone else instead of following Kokichi off a cliff with blindfolded eyes.

How stupid. How utterly pathetic.

Mukuro, who had remained silent, finally spoke. Arms crossed, she glanced at him. “Kokichi, I owe you.”

Shuichi’s stomach twisted.

The liar continued to smirk. “Yeah, well...just wanna be of service.” He was just standing there, watching. Not intervening. Not stopping this. Just…watching. Like a mastermind in a game he had orchestrated so carefully to go according to plan. A sick, hollow laughter bubbled up in Shuichi’s throat. He barely recognized it as his own.

A joke. A lie. Of course it was.

Shuichi wanted to scream. He wanted to demand answers, to dig out whatever hope had been left inside because it had rotted. If the trust, the guidance, the supposed camaraderie had just been one big joke.

But he couldn’t. His head was too heavy, and his body too weak. Physically and mentally.

Had he ever been on his side? Had there ever been a moment where it wasn’t all just some elaborate game?

Liar, his voice came to echo.

His world dimmed–for the second time with his thoughts turning sluggish.

Liar, it came again.

The last thing he saw was Kokichi’s empty smile before the darkness swallowed him whole.

Liar, good night.

Notes:

Hallo!! :D

Surprisingly, I had a lot of free time last week, so I had plenty of time to write this! I hope I didn‘t make the end a little bit to cringy or something... It’s my first time writing an angst scene properly. Like, in a serious way where I actually have to make it to the end rather than keeping it hanging, cuz I have a shitload ton of unfinished drafts in my docs 😭 or in the way where there’s no joking or any kind or idk.

Also, finally more Toko and Syo scenes!—well, mostly Syo, cuz I love Syo<333 Since in the original, Niragi wouldn’t stop acting so chaotically, I kept switching to Syo to let her do it rather than having Toko in control since it was a bit ooc. I’m aware she only kills hot and cute men but I wanted to do something in-character for that one scene with Junko, soooo 💔. I hope I didn’t make either of their dialogue too stuttery or too energetic. I haven’t seen THH in a while as my focus was solely on DRV3. Another thing, why is she, of all people, adamant of making Mukuro the leader instead of Byakuya? They’ve acquainted before in a game together and kind of teamed up. I don’t have much of an explanation for it, but it’s something like that. :>

Now, the password. It was supposed to be 11037 cuz you know, it’s famous lol. Problem is, it didn’t connect to Junko in any sort of way. I tried to use her name—04167 (I couldn’t think of anything better)—but it didn’t at all look right. I tried mixing 77, 78, and 79 but I wasn’t sure where I’d originate it from. So, I tried to form ’despair’ and, surprisingly, I see it.

Lastly, don’t worry, this isn’t the end of saiouma. :3

(Bonus: Did you get what I meant about the ”His world dimmed” part? Yeah, that was purely on purpose <3)

Chapter 20: Ten of Hearts 6.4

Summary:

Yesterday, I was a friend. Today, I am a stranger. Tomorrow, I might be your greatest regret. People change, not because they want to, but because you never really knew them to begin with.

Notes:

Here’s Shuichi regretting EVERYTHING🙏.

________________________________

Darkness.

That was the first thing Shuichi registered when consciousness crept back to him.

It was the kind of blackness that felt almost gentle at first, like a lullaby wrapping around his skin, whispering, Shh, sleep now, don’t worry about anything anymore. But then the sweetness turned bitter; the lullaby became a funeral march.

He tried to open his eyes. Nothing changed. There was something on his face, though. Sticky, rough. Duct tape, he deduced.

His lips parted instinctively to breathe, but there was something there too. Tape over his mouth. He inhaled sharply through his nose, but the air felt too thin, like he was breathing through a straw.

He jerked forward, only for sharp resistance to pull him back. His wrists and his ankles were bound. The rough bite of rope burned against his skin. He was tied to a chair, it seemed. And his heartbeat pounded like a war drum in his ears.

Where was he? How long had he been here? Who else is here with him?- if there even was anyone.

And then, he heard a faint voice. It was muffled, sure, but it was still recognizable.

“W- Well, rumor has it that…y- your Truth Bullets expire tonight.” Toko’s voice wavered at first, stumbling over her words, like she wasn’t sure if she should even be saying them. But then she let out a nervous chuckle, one that cracked at the edge like a sugar-coated glass just about to shatter. “With your sight a- and your hearing taken away, you’re like a…a…sitting duck.”

A small jittery giggle escaped her lips. It was like she was unsure whether to be horrified or entertained by the whole thing. “I can just imagine the terror you’re feeling as you s- sit here and w- wait for the laser to burn through your skull.”

His body jerked in response, but the ropes didn’t budge. The chair creaked beneath him. He let out a strangled, muffled noise, but it was swallowed whole by the duct tape. His breathing came fast now, too fast, and suddenly the darkness wasn’t just covering him, it was smothering him. When was the last time he came in contact with this darkness? Oh yes, after a Hearts game. Then he was led to the light, and returned to darkness.

The thought of going to die here alone, blind, and helpless made his stomach writhe. Was his efforts all for nothing in the end? What about his promise to Kaito and Kaede? The promise he told his uncle as a child that he would be a great detective like him when he grew up, only to be left unfulfilled? Was everything going to be thrown in the trash?

Toko spoke again, something taunting, something cruel, but her words blurred into meaningless sounds in his ears. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think. He heard footsteps slowly fading away.

“…Well, g- good luck, I guess.” A nervous laugh; a shaky breath. Then, the door slammed. A lock clicked. The came pure silence.

His screams were nothing but muffled sobs swallowed by the darkness.

*********************************

Kyoko remained still, standing beside Junko’s lifeless body, her gloved fingers methodically working as she inspected the corpse. Now that she was alone, she could take her time. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she traced the wound. Then, with the precision of a surgeon, she used her tool to extract something embedded deep within the flesh. A bullet.

...Smoke curled lazily through the hallway, rising in ghostly tendrils. Miu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the cigarette between her lips glowing softly with every slow inhale.

It was peaceful. Boring, but peaceful.

Then, static crackled.

Her walkie-talkie came to life with a high-pitched chirp, followed by an all-too-familiar voice. “Yoo-hoo~! How’s it going, Miu? Keeping that filthy little rat in check?”

Miu groaned, tilting her head back against the wall. “Tch. It’s fine, I guess,” she dragged another breath of smoke before yanking the walkie-talkie off her belt. “Mukuro’s still in her room, doing whatever the hell Mukuro does. Nothing interesting’s happened.” She exhaled sharply, watching the smoke disperse. “This is so boring, you fucking twat.”

A chuckle crackled through the speaker. “Well, let’s go ahead with our plan, then.”

Kokichi’s shoes barely made a sound against the plush carpet as he strolled into the royal suite. The air inside was thick with the scent of polished wood and something faintly artificial, like an expensive perfume that had long since faded. He let his gaze wander, idly tapping his walkie-talkie against his palm.

“Y’know,” he mused aloud, “I really can’t tell if Shuichi is smart or just plain stupid.” He snorted to himself, twirling the device between his fingers. “Cuz, like, there’s no way they’d keep something this important in some ordinary safe.”

Miu’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. “Then where do you think the real safe is, genius?”

Kokichi hummed, pacing. His violet eyes flicked across the room, taking in every detail. Then, he stopped, his grin widening just a fraction. “Hmm… Well, when Shuichi found the fake safe, Mukuro–who, by the way, usually has a killer poker face–was glancing at something else. Kinda sus, right?”

He clicked his tongue, sauntering toward one of the picture frames on the wall. It was a painting of a bear: half its fur black, the other half white.

”I think whatever’s in that envelope isn’t a code or some blank letter. I think it might just be…” He gripped the frame. “A drawing.”

With a sharp yank, Kokichi pulled the painting from the wall. Behind it, nestled snugly within the paneling, was a hidden safe. Ah, bingo. “Yup. Found it.”

A scoff rang through the speaker. “You sly bitch. So this is why you threw him to the wolves?”

Kokichi hesitated, his smile faltering completely. Just for a second. Then, his grin sharpened. “Yeah, well. You gotta give something to get something.” He reached for the keypad. “That’s why I dragged him off the street in the first place. He had a lot of potential from what I’ve seen. He was very fun to play with.”

His fingers danced across the buttons. 2-1-6-4-5-3-0.

With a click, the safe unlocked.

Kokichi pulled the small chest from within, opening it just enough to peek inside. A deck of cards–the deck. No face cards. No Ten of Hearts. But that was fine. He pocketed them, let out a pleased hum, and turned on his heel. Time to disappear before anyone noticed.

*********************************

Maki’s footsteps echoed in a empty hallway, her expression impassive but her mind racing. She had gathered enough information to know she needed her own plan, one that didn’t rely on anyone else. So far, she knew this much: Junko was dead. Mukuro was suspiciously quiet about it; she’s now the new leader as well, which is dangerous. She sighed, rubbing her temple. If she wanted to survive, she needed an edge.She considered Shuichi for a moment. He was an easy detective, easy to read, sometimes too easy. He had already started unraveling things in his own way, even if he didn’t realize it. That made him both a potential ally and a liability. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

Kyoko, on the other hand, was a different story. Another detective, but an unreadable one. If Shuichi was an open book, Kyoko was a locked safe with no key in sight. Maki didn’t trust people she couldn’t predict, and Kyoko seemed like someone who would always have ulterior motives.

No, if she needed help, Shuichi was the better option.

But first, she had to deal with the problem right in front of her.

Wham!

Maki barely registered the small collision until she took a step back and found herself face-to-face with Toko, one of the members of the Mark of the City Council. Toko stumbled, adjusting her glasses frantically. “G- Gah! Watch where you’re going, y- you—!” She cut herself off as she realized who she had bumped into, immediately tensing.

Maki didn’t react. “You were the one not looking.”

Toko’s lip twitched. “Oh, sure! B- Blame me! It’s always my fault, isn’t it? ‘Oh, Toko, you’re so c- clumsy! Oh, Toko, you’re so annoying!’” She huffed, trying to sound indignant but mostly just flustered. “I was thinking! A writer like me is always deep in thought!”

She gave her a blank stare, raising her eyebrow, “You were thinking?”

“E- Excuse you?! W- What’s that supposed to mean?!” Toko bristled.

“It means what it means.”

Toko let out a dramatic groan, throwing her head back. “Ugh! First, I get shoved, and now I get mocked?! Why do I even bother talking to people?”

“No one’s forcing you,” Maki deadpanned.

“Maybe I want to talk! Ever think of that, y- you little—?!” She suddenly stopped herself, sucking in a sharp breath. “N- Not that I need social interaction or a- anything! Hah! As if! I’m fine! Totally fine! No one cares what I think anyway… Not like I d- don’t have enough to deal with already…”

“What exactly are you dealing with?”

Toko flinched. “N- Nothing!! Nothing at all!!” She let out a nervous laugh. “I- I was just, uh…doing inventory! Y- Yeah! That’s right! Checking supplies and restocking the, uh, the food! B- Because some people are just so wasteful, you know?!”

The assassin wasn’t pleased. “Since when do you care about that?”

“W- Well, excuse me for t- trying to be useful! It’s not like I want to do it, but if I don’t, then who will?! I bet you d- don’t even think about things like food r- rations, huh?!”

Maki ignored the jab. “So? Did you find anything interesting while ‘checking supplies’?”

“N- no- No!! Nothing at all!! Toko visibly stiffened. “Everything’s fine!! No missing food, no weird…uh, weird smells, or—” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

Maki’s expression darkened. “…Weird smells?”

“N- NOPE! Definitely not! You m- must’ve misheard me! A- Aha! I meant, uh, w- weird spells! Y- Yeah, like, people saying weird words! But that’s totally normal, r- right? Haha…”

“Toko,” she said, “you’re a terrible liar.”

Toko took a step back, sweat forming on her forehead. “W- Wait! W- We don’t have to talk about this! I- It’s not like there’s anything horrible in the basement or a- anything—!!” She froze.

Maki tilted her head. “…I know about the basement.”

Toko went pale. “Y- y- you—?!”

”You guys weren’t subtle on where you hid the bodies,” she scoffed, “and that’s coming from me.”

”Agh! Leave me alone, you whore!” She pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Don’t interrogate me! I- I’m n- not some sneaky, lying, secret-hiding snake like some other people around here!”

”Oh? Who would those ‘other people’ be?” Maki watched Toko stiffen. “Are they the Council?”

”Well, duh! But that doesn’t mean I know anything!!”

Maki narrowed her eyes. “So there is something to know.”

Toko’s breath hitched. “I- !! N- no! I mean—!! I- it’s just—!!”

”What is the Council hiding?”

”N- NOTHING!!” Toko’s voice cracked.

”Then why are you panicking?”

”I’M NOT—!!”

All of a sudden, Toko froze after she shouted for a second. Maki watched her carefully, and before she knew it, she let out a choked laugh as her body relaxed.

And then there was that grin.

Toko–no, Syo cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders before licking her lips with a sharp giggle. “Geez! You really know how to back a girl into a corner, huh? Kinda sexy, not gonna lie~!”

Maki didn’t move. Her expression didn’t change, like she had already expected this.

“Aw, no reaction? You’re all business, huh? That’s kinda boring!” She twirled a pair of sharp scissors between her fingers (which she seemed to pull out of nowhere). “But I guess that’s what makes ya fun to mess with!”

Maki’s glare hardened, and she didn’t waste a second swinging a punch at her.

Syo barely dodged, flipping back onto her hands before landing in a crouch. “WHOA! ALREADY? No threats? No dramatic ‘I’ll make you pay?’ Just BAM! Straight to the action?! HA! I love that!”

The assassin lunged with her fist aiming for Syo’s ribs. But Syo twisted, cackling, and landed light on her feet.

“Hey, hey, no foreplay? Gotta work me up a little first, sweetheart!”

Maki’s response was a roundhouse kick aimed at Syo’s head.

WHAM!

Syo ducked, the wind from the kick ruffling her bangs. She flipped back onto a display shelf, scissors in her grip. “PHEW! You are NOT playin’ around, huh?”

Maki closed the distance fast–too fast for Syo to jump away this time. She grabbed the front of Syo’s shirt and yanked, slamming her into a nearby shelf.

“OOF—! Damn, girl, buy me dinner first—” Maki’s fist snapped forward, but Syo jerked her head to the side just in time. The punch dented the wooden shelf behind her. “YIKES! Your boy toy got the same treatment, huh? No wonder he—” She didn’t let her finish. She let go of Syo’s shirt and spun, aiming a heel kick to her jaw.

CRACK!

The murderous fiend stumbled back, rubbing her chin, but instead of wincing, she grinned.

“KYAHAHAHAHAHA! A LITTLE PAIN NEVER KILLED ME! Actually, wait–sometimes it does! BUT NOT TODAY, BABY!” She lunged, scissors flashing.

Maki barely dodged the first swipe. The second nearly nicked her shoulder. She grabbed the nearest thing, a metal chair leg, and swung it like a baton. Syo blocked it with her scissors, but the force sent her skidding back.

BAM!

She crashed into a locker. Maki moved fast, closing the distance before Syo could fully recover. She grabbed her and flung her back. Syo’s body crashing through an already-broken doorway with dust kicking up as she followed. They had landed in an empty furniture store.

Syo groaned from a heap of overturned tables. “Owwww… Talk about a rough ride!” She rolled onto her back, grinning, then flipped onto her feet just in time as Maki’s fist whizzed past her face. “WHOA, WHOA- wait, let’s take a breather, sweetheart! Maybe get to know each other better—” Maki aimed another roundhouse kick at her ribs. Syo arched back, narrowly dodging. “Or we could skip to the good part!”

CLANG!

“Man, your boy didn’t last NEARLY this long!” When Maki froze, Syo didn’t fail to notice. “Wanna know what he sounded like?”

But before Maki could try any more attacks—

*********************************

Kokichi hummed to himself as he walked through the empty corridors near one of the exits of the building. The tune was familiar, one of his favorite nursery rhymes as a kid. Without thinking, he muttered the lyrics under his breath.

“Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing,
Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?”

He wasn’t even sure why he was singing it. Maybe out of memory, maybe to fill the silence. He trailed off as he stepped outside. The cool night air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of cigarette smoke. A little ways off, Miu stood near the wall, cigarette between her fingers, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. She didn’t look up, just huffed and flicked the ash onto the ground.

He inclined his head. “Smoking kills, y’know.”

Miu simply scoffed. “Yeah? So does a fuckton of other things. What’s your point, twerp?”

“No point! Just sayin’ you’re statistically more likely to die before me.” He grinned. “Not that you need the cigarette’s help for that…”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, pipsqueak,” she rolled her eyes, “you’re such a little shit.” She sighed and took another drag before stomping out her cigarette. “Don’t you feel sorry for him? Shuichi, I mean.”

Kokichi paused mid-hum, his expression shifting as he kept his face turned away. “Sorry for him?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye before letting out a small exhale. “Hmm. Yeah, of course I do.” Miu frowned, but before she could say anything, he fully turned to her. “Sometimes, we have to do things in order to survive.”

Then, Kokichi took a step toward the exit. All of a sudden, a sound. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but he caught it. His grin faltered just a little.

“...Oh, shit.”

The blonde arched an eyebrow. “What? You realize you left your balls behind or somethin’?”

Kokichi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped back, subtly raising a hand to stop her. “W- Wait!”

She frowned. “The hell’s your problem—?”

Kokichi dug into his pocket, pulled out a small metal coin, and tossed it through the exit.

FWIP!

The coin was instantly struck by a swift red laser, clattering to the floor in a smoking heap. Her eyes widened. “Seriously?” They both turned, scanning the area. Red laser lines now covered the outside walls of the building, sealing the exit.

Then, a PA system chimed, followed by a robotic announcer’s voice.

“We would like to take this opportunity to sincerely thank you for visiting Shibuya Mark City, Tokyo. As a token of our appreciation, we will now commence a game with all 53 participants in the venue.”

The air grew still.

“…Welp,” his grin twitched.

Miu groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Notes:

The Ten of Hearts can finally begin! :3 Are you all excited? Anyways, sorry for the shit fight scene💔I don’t know how to write fight scenes. I had a lot of fun writing Maki, Toko, and Syo’s dialogue, though. Again, I hope I wasn’t overdoing the stuttering and the energy. And yes, I headcanon Miu as someone who smokes. :] Classes were also cancelled the last few days so this is how I spent tthem :> Dw, I got to finish my homeworks in time lol

Chapter 21: Ten of Hearts 6.5

Summary:

I never once thought about leaving this place. But being washed away with it would be just a punishment for all my sins. So I have decided. I shall fuel the fire of this hell, and burn with the world.

Notes:

Chapter summary’s first few sentences are from Reverse: 1999!! I just watched the 2.6 patch and omg🛐 I can’t believe I have to wait for several months for the release…😔

________________________________

”DIFFICULTY, TEN OF HEARTS.”

”ALL PARTICIPANTS MUST ASSEMBLE IN THE LOBBY IMMEDIATELY.”
”THE RULES OF THE GAME WILL THEN BE EXPLAINED.”

The world beyond his makeshift blindfold was nothing but darkness, but he could still hear his breath and the faint rustle of fabric as he shifted uncomfortably, and now, the game announcement echoing through the building. A Hearts game was about to begin, and he couldn’t participate. He wasn’t in the lobby. He was still trapped, bound, and completely vulnerable.

”I REPEAT. ALL PARTICIPANTS MUST ASSEMBLE IN THE LOBBY IMMEDIATELY.”

His breathing came out uneven as he struggled against the bindings, his wrists burning from the friction. He let out a muffled whimper, thrashing weakly. He pulled harder, his fingers flexing against the restraints, but the ropes dug deep into his skin. His shoulders ached from the strain, and the tape over his mouth stifled his frustrated groan.

Meanwhile, in the lobby, the once scattered crowd had begun to surge forward, a flood of participants grabbing phones for registration. Maki, still catching her breath from the fight moments ago, barely took a second to glance back. She turned sharply, eyes locking onto Toko, who had recently turned back to herself after the announcement. Taking advantage of the distraction, Maki broke into a sprint the moment she heard the announcement. She shoved past the others, slipping through the shifting crowd, her focus solely on reaching the lobby.

When she arrived, she immediately noticed the cluster of people frozen in place, murmuring among themselves. Their gazes were all locked on something in the center of the room. Maki furrowed her brows and pushed forward, squeezing through until she finally saw it.

A fresh body.

A girl with long navy hair lay motionless on the ground, a knife lodged directly into her heart. Blood had begun to pool beneath her, staining the floor. A sharp gasp cut through the whispers as another person forced her way through the crowd.

A short girl with red hair stopped in her tracks the moment she saw the body, her eyes going wide with horror.

”Tenko!” She choked out, her voice breaking. She stumbled forward, dropping to her knees beside the girl. Her hands hovered, trembling, unsure if she should touch her. A sob racked through her small frame as she hunched over, her fingers clenching into fists against her lap. “T- Tenko! Why...?”

”GAME, “WITCH HUNT.”

”RULES:”
- “THE MURDEROUS WITCH WHO KILLED THIS GIRL IS HIDING AMONGST YOU IN PLAIN SIGHT.”
- “THE WITCH ROLE IS NOT LIMITED TO WOMEN.”

”CLEAR CONDITION: YOU MUST FIND THE WITCH AND BURN HIM OR HER IN THE FIRE OF JUDGEMENT.”

”TIME LIMIT: TWO HOURS.”

Outside, standing ominously, was a fire stake. It was crudely constructed, a towering wooden post reinforced with thick ropes, its base surrounded by a pile of dry, splintered kindling. The wood was old and worn, darkened by exposure and stained in places where past fires had scorched it.

”GAME START.”

A man shoved his way back into the crowd after looking outside, panting, his face slick with sweat. “There’s a fire at the back of the building!”

The fear spread like a disease, warping whispers into shouts, twisting confusion into something ugly. Kyoko’s voice sliced through the rising panic. “We have to find whoever murdered her and burn them in the Fire of Judgment.”

Maki barely reacted. Her grip on her phone tightened, fingers flexing before curling into a fist. “So that’s it, then,” she muttered under her breath, “no way out.”

Still crouched beside the body, the redhead was shaking, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Her fingers trembled against cold skin–her friend's skin–lifeless, already starting to stiffen. It didn’t feel real. She stared at the knife lodged deep in her friend’s chest, as if expecting her to get up, as if expecting this to be a trick, some kind of joke, anything but what it was. Kyoko stepped forward and nudged her aside, careful but firm, shifting her weight as she knelt to examine the body. The girl’s hands were still outstretched, hovering over the corpse like she could somehow will it back to life with magic.

Then someone spoke. A voice, loud and clear. Accusatory. “You. You’re always with her.” She barely had time to react before a finger jabbed toward her. “Why weren’t you with her today?”

The words hit like a slap. Her mind stuttered. The question barely made sense. “Nyeh…?”

Another voice joined in. “Yeah, that’s right. You weren’t. What happened? Did you fight?”

The glances thrown her way weren’t just glances anymore. They were sharp, scrutinizing, like knives pressed against her throat, waiting for an excuse to press harder.

Toko’s shaking hand pointed next as she stood among the crowd, her voice pitching higher with hysteria. “Th- Then you’re the witch!”

She flinched, “It’s not me!”

Someone scoffed; polished, amused, and cold. He didn’t need to raise his voice. His words carried weight all on their own, each syllable like a nail hammered into her coffin. “I suppose we’ll know for sure once we throw you in the fire,” Byakuya said.

“I was in my room!” she protested, “She was my friend!”

Byakuya barely reacted. His fingers ghosted over the bridge of his nose before he adjusted his glasses, the light catching the lenses for a fraction of a second. “So you’re with her every day, except the day she gets killed.” His lips curled in disdain. “Then it’s decided. She’s the witch. Let’s take her to the fire.”

She barely had time to react before hands grabbed at her arms. “Ack—! Let me go! I didn’t kill her!” The men held onto Himiko like she was already dead weight, gripping her limbs tight, their footsteps heavy as they prepared to haul her away.

Then a figure stepped into their path. “That’s enough,” Maki stood firm.

The men hesitated, their movements stiffening for just a moment, long enough for another presence to emerge beside Maki. Tsumugi, adjusting her glasses, nodded in agreement. “That’s right. Put her down.”

Then, grudgingly, they obeyed. Himiko hit the ground with a dull thud, gasping as pain jolted through her limbs. She didn’t move, just lay there, catching her breath, the burn of humiliation spreading under her skin.

”We’re all suspects here in this game,” Maki’s eyes swept across the lobby. “Where were all of you?” she continued. “What were you all doing? And can you prove it?” Her gaze flicked toward Toko for just a second. Just long enough. Toko immediately averted her eyes, shifting on her feet, her fingers twitching at her sides.

Kyoko straightened from where she’d been crouched, dusting off her gloves. “Everyone will take turns explaining what they did in the past hour.”

Before anyone could speak, someone shouted, “Look, blood!” A girl pointed at Kyoko’s hand. More specifically, at the white handkerchief she held with its edge stained dark.

The detective looked down, utterly unfazed. She lifted the fabric slightly between her fingers. “I can explain this.”

Toko took a step back, her breath hitching. “I- I say she’s the witch!”

“You’re wrong,” she glared plainly. Then, without hesitation, she lifted the handkerchief higher for all to see. “This is Junko’s blood.” The crowd reacted instantly, gasps rippling through them like waves crashing against a shore. “I was examining Junko’s body,” she continued, “that’s how the blood got on me.”

A girl, clutching her phone tightly, spoke up hesitantly. “Her…body?”

Kyoko’s reply was blunt. “Junko was murdered.” More gasps; more whispers. Shock curled its fingers around the room, squeezing tight. She exhaled, irritated. “The executives believed this might throw everyone into a panic.”

A man clenched his fists, voice rising. “What else are you- you people hiding from us? Huh? What?!”

She ignored him. She reached into her pocket, retrieving something small, holding it up between her fingers. A bullet. “I took this from Junko’s body,” she stated, “its caliber matches the ones we have here at the Mark of the City. That means someone here killed Junko.”

Silence followed.

Then, finally, someone broke it. “Do you think maybe…the witch killed Junko?” The girl who spoke clutched her phone, knuckles turning white. She hesitated when she felt eyes on her, then forced a nervous laugh. “I mean, that doesn’t sound so crazy, right?” She turned, raising her arm, about to point at someone—

And then she choked.

The sound was wet, strangled. Her eyes widened and ahe staggered forward. A blade protruded from her chest.

For a second, no one moved; no one breathed.

Then, collectively, the crowd recoiled. People stumbled back, gasping, screaming. The girl collapsed, revealing the figure behind her. A masked man stood tall, blood dripping from the sword in his grip.

“She was quite annoying.” His voice was smooth, thoughtful, utterly devoid of remorse. He straightened, his grip tightening around the handle of his blade. “Why don’t we just burn everyone? That would be much better, yes?” And the fire outside roared in response.

Then, Mukuro’s voice was the knife that cut the tension open. “If someone here is the witch, then everyone in this room except me could be the witch.” She walked like a soldier who already knew the war was lost. “So, who here is the witch?” She demanded. “Step forward. That’s an order.”

“When no one here will admit it,” she said, “then all of you will burn.”

The room snapped and panic began to spread like fire in dry grass. People shoved, tripped, screamed, sprinting for any exit they could reach. It didn’t matter if there was nowhere to go—running was better than waiting to burn. Maki didn’t stop to think. She grabbed the girl and yanked her up, barely giving her time to stand before dragging her forward.

Then something hit her like a punch to the ribs.

Her grip on her tightened, her feet skidding to a halt. She whipped around, eyes locking onto the white-circled table.

One phone left behind.

Shit.

She ran back, snatching it up in one quick motion. “C’mon!” she barked, gripping Himiko’s wrist and sprinting.

The halls stretched before them like the throat of some starving beast, long, dark, endless. The screams behind them never stopped. Maki kept running until she saw a door. She wrenched it open, pushing the redhead forward. ”Hide in here.”

She shook her head. “Alone? I want to stay with you! Please! It’s sure to be game over for me if I stay here…”

All of a sudden, heavy and fast footsteps came.

Maki moved without thinking, stepping in front of Himiko like a shield, her fingers curling into fists.

Then, two figures.

Makoto, breathless, hands up. “Stop! It’s me! Makoto!” The assassin didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her muscles were still wound tight, her eyes switching between him and the guy beside him. Makoto took another step forward, “Listen, hear me out. I think we should work together like we have before.”

Her stare cut into him like glass, her brain calculating too many things at once. Then she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Help me find Shuichi.”

Makoto nodded and so did the other guy.

Suddenly, the sound of screams and gunshots cut through the halls, through the air, through skin and bone and thought. Makoto stiffened, “...We gotta keep moving. They’re getting close.”

The four of them bolted down the corridor, feet slamming against the cold, polished floor. Maki was in front, her grip still tight around the redhead’s wrist, dragging the girl forward without a second thought. Said girl struggled to keep up, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her legs barely moving fast enough to keep from tripping.

*********************************************

The screens painted a picture of madness with bodies collapsing like it was nothing, walls splattered with fresh coats of blood, people running, screaming, falling. Dying. Miu leaned forward, her elbows digging into the desk, eyes flicking between the security feeds. It was a show of bodies dropping. Blood smearing the floors. The weak crushed underfoot. Human nature at its finest.

She clicked her tongue, “Huh. They’ve all gone crazy.”

Kokichi, lounging beside her like this was some late-night movie, hands behind his head and feet kicked up top of a desk, scoffed. “Not their smartest move.”

That was an understatement. The herd mentality had taken over. Logic was dead, survival instincts had drowned it, and now the whole damn place was a bloodbath. She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, she barely even blinked as another figure on the screen dropped to the floor, their blood pooling into the cracks of the tile. There was no pattern to the madness anymore, just blind, desperate survival. No strategy; no plan. Just kill or be killed. It didn’t even matter anymore.

The camera flickered for a moment with static and distortion, then cleared again. She exhaled sharply. “Why the fuck would they go so far just to survive…?”

It wasn’t really a question. She already knew the answer. People would do anything when backed into a corner. It was basic survival instinct toclaw, bite, tear through whatever stood in their way. The thought of being nothing, erased, forgotten, terrified people more than becoming monsters. And if that meant killing?

Well.

She wasn’t so sure she’d be any different.

The game was simple: find the witch. Find the liar. Burn them, purge them, cleanse the rot. But at this point, the hunt had turned mindless. They weren’t searching anymore. They were just killing.

“Hell, there’s no way to find out who the witch is this way,” she said.

“You could be the witch,” Kokichi remarked lazily, “riiiight, Miu?”

Miu turned, unimpressed. “Or it could be you.”

That was the thing, whoever the witch was, they weren’t obvious. They weren’t standing on a podium, cackling, twirling their fingers and chanting curses. They were blending in, watching as everyone else tore each other apart. It could be you. It could be me. It could be no one. Maybe the witch was already dead. Maybe they were laughing behind one of these doors, waiting for the last survivors to turn on each other and do the job for them.

It was only a matter of time before this place becomes a graveyard.

*********************************************

The halls were painted with flesh and liquid, and Syo was the artist. Her scissors sliced through flesh with the same ease as a blade through silk. Some she stabbed up close, feeling the satisfying shudder of their final breath. Others she flung her scissors at, metal piercing into throats, eyes, chests–wherever she felt like it. She laughed as bodies crumpled to the ground, her high-pitched cackle ringing over the panicked screams. Some of the militants had explained the rules–Ten of Hearts, a game where no one was innocent, and the only way to win was to kill everyone else. And Syo? Oh, she loved a game where she got to be the reaper.

She snatched a walkie-talkie off and pressed the button. “KYAHAHAHAHAA! Herd them out through the courtyard! It’ll be easier to move their bodies!” Her voice crackled through the speakers, shrill and giddy.

And somewhere, deep beneath the building, the man in the mask moved like a ghost in the boiler room. His hands dragged gas cans across the floor, the metal clanging dully in the dim light. His plan was simple: burn the whole place down, cleanse the weak in fire, and let only the worthy escape the flames.

Syo’s voice cut through his thoughts from the walkie-talkie he carried. “Some of them are sure to be hiding inside the hotel.”

He lifted his own walkie-talkie. “I will ensure that they are all removed.”

With a swift kick, one of the cans toppled, spilling gasoline across the floor in a dark, glistening pool. He watched as the liquid slithered across the tiles, creeping toward the walls, the foundation, the very bones of the building.

”Aight, you do you, Korky!” She laughed through the device.

He sighed, “It’s Korekiyo.”

Then, with the flick of his wrist, he tossed the walkie-talkie into the spreading gas. The spark came next. Then the fire.

*********************************************

In another hallway, the four continued their search for the captured detective. The assassin moved ahead, scanning the abandoned stores, her hand ready to reach for a weapon at any second. Makoto and the other guy continued checking further down the hall. That left her with the redheaad, who, despite her small frame and sluggish attitude, was holding up well enough.

The dust in the air thickened as they stepped into another room, shelves left in disarray, half-open cabinets revealing long-expired supplies. She trailed behind Maki, her eyes flickering nervously toward every shadow, every unseen space something–or someone–could be hiding. She hesitated at a small storage room, her fingers gripping the handle. Something about it unsettled her, but she forced herself to move. With a deep breath, she pulled the door open.

And screamed.

Maki whipped around, instantly alert, and rushed to her side. She expected to see a corpse–or worse, an attacker–but what she found was something else entirely.

A man was crouched inside, shaking violently, his breath ragged and uneven. He clutched a gun to his chest, his fingers curled tightly around the grip, but there was no strength behind it. He wasn’t going to use it. He probably couldn’t. Maki hesitated. Then, she stepped forward carefully. “…Are you okay?”

The man barely reacted at first. His eyes darted toward her, but his body remained stiff, locked in place by fear. “I… I can’t do this,” he finally whispered. His shoulders heaved, and the gun in his hands trembled violently, its safety still on.

Maki knew the feeling. She had seen it before_people who weren’t made for this, people who thought they could handle bloodshed until they saw it up close. He wasn’t like the people outside, desperately killing to stay alive. No matter what people assumed about her as an assassin, she had been raised with kindness once. And some part of that still lingered in her. She knelt slightly, keeping her movements slow, careful not to startle him. “Have you seen Shuichi? The guy with dark blue hair?”

The man’s lips parted, hesitation flickering across his face. He hesitated, as if debating whether to speak, then swallowed hard and gave a small nod. “He…he’s in the main building,” he said weakly.

Maki’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is he alone?”

The man nodded again, this time more certain. “I…can’t remember, sorry. But I’m sure he’s somewhere there.”

The shorter girl, still clutching Maki’s sleeve, shifted nervously. “Then we have to go. What if he’s alone? He could be—” Gunfire rang out in the distance, followed by screams. She flinched, and the man in front of them let out a small, panicked breath. He gripped his gun tighter, but he still didn’t lift it.

”You should leave,” Maki said bluntly with a sharp exhale. “Sitting here won’t save you.”

The man didn’t respond. He just stared at the ground, his body still trembling. Maki didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed her wrist again and pulled her away. “Come on,” she spoke.

And just like that, they left him behind.

Makoto and the other guy moved cautiously, checking each room as they went. Every door they opened, every hallway they crossed, they braced for an attack. Then, either of them could react, two militants lunged from the shadows, attacking without hesitation after being spotted. The other guy barely managed to block a strike, but he was outnumbered. Makoto didn’t hesitate to jump into the fight, grabbing one of the militants and shoving him against the wall. The man struggled, elbowing Makoto in the ribs, but Makoto gritted his teeth and yanked the rifle from his hands before knocking him to the floor.

The other guy fought off the second militant, dodging a wild swing before landing a solid punch to his face. The man staggered but didn’t go down. He pulled a knife, aiming straight for the other guy’s stomach— Makoto didn’t think. He grabbed the rifle and swung, slamming the butt of the gun against the attacker’s head. The militant dropped, unconscious.

Makoto breathed hard, steadying himself. “You okay?”

The other guy wiped his forehead. “Yeah, just—”

Pew!

Then he collapsed. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading fast.

Makoto’s head snapped toward the shooter. A female militant stood at the end of the hall, her gun still raised. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t the type to attack without reason. He had always believed there was a better way. But right now–right now, all he could think about was how easily she had pulled that trigger. How she had taken a life without hesitation.

He clenched his fists, his vision tunneling with rage. He rushed toward her as she fired again, he ducked, barely avoiding the bullet. It was like his body reacted before he could even think. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched the gun away, shoving her back against the wall.

”Where is Shuichi?!” He demanded.

The woman barely flinched. “He’s somewhere…on the fourth floor.”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw Toko come out of a room there.”

Makoto searched her face, looking for a lie. There was none. He didn’t let go immediately. His mind was screaming at him, telling him she was the enemy for killing a friend. But revenge wouldn’t stop this madness. Then, without a word, he yanked the gun from her holster. The woman tensed, her breath hitching as the cold metal left her side. He stepped back, gun in hand, watching her become unarmed. He had never fired a weapon before. He didn’t even know if he could. He turned on his heel and ran, gripping the stolen gun tightly as he sprinted off.

*********************************************

Kyoko’s heels clicked softly against the tile floor as she moved through an empty pharmacy store with scattered files. Her sharp gaze skimmed over the shelves–disinfectants, painkillers, antibiotics–but that wasn’t what she was after. She crouched down, pushing aside a row of adhesive bandages to check the back of the shelf. No luck. A quiet huff escaped her lips as she stood, brushing a strand of lavender hair behind her ear. This pharmacy was small, probably only meant for basic injuries and health care. But there had to be glue somewhere.

Her fingers trailed over the shelves as her mind pieced together the plan. Cyanoacrylate glue was a form of super glue and when heated, the moisture in the glue would evaporate, creating a layer of hardened residue. If any fingerprints had been left on the murder weapon, the glue would bond to the oils and ridges of the print. From there, cocoa powder could be used to dust and expose the marks. Then, she could lift the print with cellophane tape and identify the person responsible.

If there even are any fingerprints left.

It wasn’t a perfect plan. Sweat, moisture, or even someone wearing gloves could ruin any chance of finding a clear print. But it was her only lead right now.

Her eyes sharpened when she spotted a row of adhesive products near the register. She strode toward it, and pulled a small tube of cyanoacrylate glue from the shelf and turned it over in her hand. It was a cheap brand—maybe not ideal—but it would do.

Now comes the hard part.

Kyoko slipped the glue into her pocket, exited the pharmacy, and made her way toward the main lobby. The scent of blood and smoke hung in the air, making her nose wrinkle slightly. Actually, this whole place was reeking of blood and corpses.

Her gaze settled on the girl’s lifeless form. The knife was still lodged in Tenko’s chest, the handle slick with drying blood. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief. Without hesitation, she crouched down and wrapped the cloth around the blade’s handle. Her gloved hand tightened around the hilt and, with a swift pull, she extracted the knife from Tenko’s chest.

She stood, sliding the knife carefully into a plastic evidence bag she had taken from the pharmacy. She straightened her posture and tucked the bag beneath her jacket.

Kyoko cast one last glance at Tenko’s body. Her lips thinned. Then she turned and walked away, the sound of her heels disappearing down the hallway.

*********************************************

His mouth was taped shut, his eyes blindfolded—he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t cry for help. He sucked in air through his nose, but the smoke stung as it filled his lungs. His hands tugged at the ropes around his wrists, twisting until the fibers bit into his skin. He rocked back and forth, trying to get some kind of leverage, but the chair barely moved.

Shuichi’s mind reeled, replaying the last thing he remembered. ”Yeah, well…just wanna be of service.” Yeah right.

He pulled harder at the ropes, his body turning in a frantic effort to free himself. His breath hitched as the smoke thickened in the air, making his lungs burn. Why was there even sudden smoke? Was there a fire starting? He didn’t understand the game mechanics of the Ten of Hearts yet, so he had a disadvantage and a high chance of dying. He threw his weight to the side–once, twice–until the chair tipped over and slammed against the cold floor with a loud crack.

Pain shot through his shoulder and the back of his head from the impact. Fuck! He gasped through his nose, but all he inhaled was smoke. Tears began to well beneath the blindfold as the lack of oxygen made his body tremble. He moved his wrists again and again, but the ropes only seemed to tighten the more he struggled.

He didn’t want to think about how he’d gotten here. How easily he’d been led. He pulled at the ropes harder, and his wrists stung, but he didn’t care. It was too hot. Too quiet. His body became paralyzed, exhausted from all the struggling. His mind was screaming at him to stop, to give up—

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not after this. Not after him.

Shuichi’s fingers twitched against the ropes, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t let himself slip away. He couldn’t let this happen again. He wished things could've been different.

Notes:

Guys my prom is this saturday and no one in my friend group is attending except me so I’m going by myself am I cooked💔💔 It’s actually so funny how near the venue is to my house (by near, I mean across the street lmao)

Anyways, it was pretty hectic writing this due to the different povs, and I haven’t even reached episode 8 yet😭 I’m trying to speedrun the Ten of Hearts so I can start the face cards next!! I already assigned characters for the face card roles and the participants, so yeah :D Don’t worry, I’m not feeling burnt out about it or anything. :) It’s also because I kinda have an idea for a new story…but I still don’t know if I’m gonna go through with it cuz I’m still not done with this one. (Hint: it’s another ‘danganronpa x something’ story😭)

Oouhhh I’m running out of things to say in my end notes omy💔 Well, that’s it. Have a great day and take care!!

Chapter 22: Ten of Hearts 6.6

Summary:

They rest beneath the earth, but he carries them in his veins. When his legs fail, it’s their strength that carries him. When his heart breaks, it’s their voices that stitch it back together. They’re gone, but not gone. To give up now would be to bury them again, and he couldn’t bear to lose them twice.

Notes:

Okay ummm, I think I made this one a little short😭

________________________________

Blood stained the cracked concrete beneath Syo’s feet, dark splatters marking the dirt and broken pavement of the courtyard. A body lay at her feet, barely recognizable. Another groan sounded nearby, weak and pitiful. Syo’s smile twitched as she turned toward the noise, her gaze settling on a soldier trying to crawl away. Blood smeared beneath his palms as he dragged himself toward the cover of the ruined building’s wall.

”Aww, poor thing,” Syo purred, crouching beside him. “You look like you’re in pain." Her fingers brushed beneath his chin, lifting his trembling face toward her. Her scissors clicked open. “Let me fix that for you—”

”Yawn, when are you gonna get bored?”

Syo’s head snapped toward the voice. Her smile immediately flattened into a scowl.

Kokichi stood a few feet away, hands tucked behind his back, that same smug grin plastered across his face. His scarf fluttered slightly in the breeze as he stood at the edge of the courtyard, his shoes barely skimming the bloodied dirt beneath him.

”Tch,” she rose to her feet, stepping over the dying soldier without a second glance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His smile widened as he walked toward her. “Just checking in. Looks like you’ve been busy.”

”And?”

Kokichi tilted his head. “And…it’s kinda rude, you know? Keeping all the fun to yourself.”

”Oh, don’t worry. I’ll save a spot for you in the pile,” her grin grew.

”Ooh, how scaaaaaary. You really are the Ultimate Murderous Fiend,” he snickered.

”Huh, you seriously mockin’ me?” She arched an eyebrow. “Because I willseriously murder you.”

He lifted his hands to his cheeks, pretending to be shocked as he mimicked that one painting. “Who, me? Never! I’m honestly terrified. A serial killer is no laughing matter!” But his facade quickly broke when he started laughing again. “By the way, Genocider Syo is too long! Mind if I just call you Geno for short?”

Syo’s gaze darkened and fingers curled tighter around the handle of her scissors. “Seriously, what do you want?”

”Maybe I just missed you.” His eyes gleamed beneath his bangs.

Her hand shot out, and without warning, she hurled one of her scissors toward him, the blade spinning through the air with deadly accuracy. But just as it was about to strike, Kokichi’s hand flicked outward as he ran ahead.

A blur of white exploded between them–a deck of cards scattering into the air.

The cards fluttered like feathers, spinning and tumbling between them. Syo’s scissor blade sliced through several of them before embedding itself in the ground. Her eyes widened, “What the—” Her gaze followed the cascade of cards as they drifted toward the ground. She was quick to recognize how they were the deck of cards. “You rat, you stole them?!”

She lunged toward him, another scissor already in hand. But Kokichi was faster. He pulled out a small black canister from his coat and pressed a button on the side. A powerful electric charge began to surge through her body. Her muscles locked up, her limbs spasming uncontrollably. “Ghh—!!”

Syo collapsed to a burning bush from several step-backs and, well, burned.

Kokichi slouched down in front of her, placing his hands on his knees. “Wow, Syo. You let your guard down so easily. That’s not very professional.”

*********************************************

Maki and the redhead continued to push forward. Behind her, the girl’s breathing was quick and shallow. Her smaller frame struggled to keep pace, but she didn’t complain, not this time. “We’re close,” Maki muttered, scanning the corridor ahead. “Stay close.”

She nodded. “I know…”

Suddenly—

A figure stepped into view at the end of the hallway.

Maki’s steps halted and her arm instinctively shot out in front of the redhead.

The figure was tall, shrouded in dark clothing, wearing a mask that covered the lower half of his face. In his hand, he held a golden sword, the blade resting casually against his side.

“I had a feeling you’d come this way,” Korekiyo said, almost sounding amused to see her.

Maki’s eyes narrowed as her hands curled into fists. “Out of the way.”

“What’s he doing here?” The girl behind her whispered.

“I don’t care,” she hissed back.

Korekiyo took a single step toward them, the edge of his sword trailing lightly against the floor. The sound of metal scraping against concrete sent a chill down Maki’s spine.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he spoke softly, “a chance to truly test your strength. The one who is labeled the Ultimate Assassin!”

Her eyes scrunched into a glare, nudging the girl on her arm as she kept her gaze on the man. “Hey.”

She flinched. “What—”

“Go find Makoto.”

“What?!” Her eyes became round as pennies. “But—”

“He can help you find Shuichi,” Maki snapped, “I’ll handle this.”

Her gaze darted from Maki to Korekiyo, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. “But- what if he—”

“I can handle this,” Maki repeated, “now go. Now!”

Korekiyo inclined his head, watching them with detached amusement. “You’d really send her off alone?” he mused. “How cruel. Isn’t she the witch?”

“Shut up.”

The redhead hesitated a moment longer before squeezing her eyes shut and turning on her heel. Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she broke into a run. Maki didn’t turn to watch her go, but kept her eyes on Korekiyo.

“You’re awfully protective,” Korekiyo said with light tilt in his voice. “It’s almost…sweet.”

“You talk too much.” She positioned herself in a fighting stance. It sucked she didn’t have a weapon with her, which was a disadvantage against his sword.

“Let’s see how long that confidence lasts,” and he lunged.The assassin’s body reacted before her mind could process it. She ducked under the blade, twisting to the side as the edge of the sword narrowly missed her shoulder. She rolled across the floor and shot to her feet, backing toward the wall.

Korekiyo’s mask tilted slightly as he hummed. “It’s strange seeing you so defenseless. Aren’t you an assassin? Aren’t you supposed to have back-up weapons with you or so?”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” she said.

Maki sidestepped when he lunged again, her hand shooting out to grab the edge of his sleeve. She turned her body, using his momentum to pull him off balance. Korekiyo’s foot scraped against the floor as he stumbled, but he quickly recovered, the tip of his sword flashing toward her face—

She ducked low. Her hand shot toward the floor, grabbing a loose piece of broken pipe. It was blunt, rusted, and uneven, but it was better than nothing, and swung it upward.

Korekiyo’s sword clashed against the pipe, the impact sending a sharp vibration down Maki’s arm. “Resourceful,” he commented. She didn’t answer, though. She twisted the pipe and shoved upward, forcing Korekiyo’s blade to slide along the metal. The friction sent sparks flying between them. He leaned back slightly, “But how long can you keep this up?”

He pushed forward, his blade driving down toward her shoulder. Maki shifted, letting the strike glance off the side of the pipe. Her arm trembled under the force of the blow. She stepped back, then his sword cut upward. She barely managed to avoid it. The edge of the blade skimmed the edge of her shirt, slicing through the fabric at her side.

Her back hit the wall. “You’re slipping.”

Maki’s grip tightened on the pipe. Then, Korekiyo’s sword flashed downward—

She rolled to the side. The sword embedded itself in the wall where her head had been. She spun, swinging the pipe toward his exposed side— His foot shot out, kicking her legs out from under her.

Maki hit the floor hard, and the pipe slipped from her hand and skidded across the ground.

Korekiyo’s sword hovered at her throat.

Maki’s chest heaved and sweat started to sting her eyes.

*********************************************

He could still hear Kaede’s voice. Bright and teasing, cutting through the dull hum of an early summer afternoon. They had been sitting under the shade of a tree just outside Kaede’s house, the sun filtering through the leaves above them. Shuichi sat with his back against the bark, his knees drawn up, as Kaede stretched her legs out in front of her, arms behind her head.

Kaede had been laughing at him. Of course.

“Come on, Shuichi,” she said, tilting her head toward him with that amused smirk she always wore when she was being insufferable. “You’re really going to let your uncle rope you into another one of his cases?”

Shuichi groaned, resting his forehead against his knees. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You do have a choice,” she pointed out. “You just refuse to make it.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, well, it’s easier not to argue.”

“That’s pathetic,” she scoffed.

He lifted his head to glare at her. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Just saying,” she grinned, “if you don’t want to be a detective, you don’t have to be. You could quit.”

“And then what?” Shuichi said bitterly. “My uncle would kill me.”

Kaede shrugged simply. “Not your problem.”

Shuichi’s gaze lowered. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. He knew his uncle meant well. But sometimes it felt like he was being pushed toward something he didn’t even want.

The pianist leaned back, her eyes squinting against the sunlight. “You don’t have to know what you want to do yet.”

“Yeah,” he let out a sigh. “What about you?”

Kaede’s smile faded slightly. “Piano, I guess.”

He frowned. “You sound excited.”

“I’m not,” she admitted slowly, “but it’s all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true.”

“It kind of is,” she sent him a side glance.

Shuichi hesitated. He wanted to say something else, but Kaede beat him to it.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” she continued flatly. “If I stop playing, what else am I going to do?”

Shuichi hated it when she talked like that. Like her whole life was already carved out for her and it was just a matter of waiting until she hit the end of the road. “You could just… quit,” he suggested quietly.

Kaede’s gaze softened. “I’ll figure it out,” she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe I’ll write music for other people. Or open a music school. Or…I don’t know. Something.”

“Maybe you could actually start writing songs that aren’t depressing,” he teased, smiling.

The blonde shot him a dark look. “Shut up.”

And Shuichi smiled faintly.

Kaede exhaled, her head resting back against the tree. “…Maybe one day I’ll write a happy song.”

Shuichi’s heart clenched at the memory of how small her voice had sounded.

He never heard that happy song.

******

He squeezed his eyes shut. A fresh wave of tears spilled down his cheeks. His chest felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Kaede…

******

“Shuichi! Let’s go!”

Shuichi remembered the sound of Kaito’s voice cutting through the crowded street. Kaito had one arm slung casually over Shuichi’s shoulder, dragging him through the mob of people without hesitation. Shuichi was practically stumbling to keep up with him.

“Kaito- slow down—”

“Can’t slow down now!” Kaito grinned over his shoulder. “We’re gonna miss the launch!”

He groaned. “You’ve already seen it like a million times—”

“Not the point!”

They broke through the edge of the crowd and into the open plaza. Kaito finally stopped, arms crossed, looking up toward the dark sky, his smile softening.

Shuichi’s breath finally steadied, and he followed Kaito’s gaze upward. “You really want to be up there someday, huh?”

His smile broadened. “Obviously.”

There was a bit of silence before Shuichi spoke up hesitantly. “…Aren’t you scared?”

“Of what?”

“Of…dying. Out there.”

Kaito’s eyes darkened slightly. He was quiet for a moment. “Nah,” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m more scared of never getting the chance.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. His gaze remained fixed on the sky. “…If I die up there, at least I’ll die knowing I tried.”

He swallowed hard. “But—”

“Stop worrying about it,” He cut him off. He grinned, teeth flashing. “You’ll probably end up being my detective on the ground, anyway.”

“Yeah, sure, he snorted.

Kaito’s grin softened. “It’ll be okay.”

And Shuichi had believed him.

He never got to see Kaito’s launch.

******

Oh Kaito…

His shoulders shook violently as he lay slumped on the cold floor, bound to the chair beneath him. His face was hot, his throat raw from the helpless sobs tearing out of him.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

They were gone, weren’t they?

And he was still here.

He could still hear Kaede’s music. He could still feel the warmth of Kaito’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mmh- mmff—!” His voice broke against the duct tape, more hot tears spilling down his cheeks. Hadn’t they told him to live for them? That he won’t give up? That he won’t let this place break him?

Oh, but he couldn’t stop crying.

He could see himself running up to them as he still couldn’t accept their deaths. He’d probably say, “I want to be with you… Please…don’t leave me alone again… I’m sorry for being alive… I’m lonely without you… So please, from now on…let me come over there…” He would frown and continue running. “...Right? The three of us…have always…been friends, right?”

Then Kaito would probably say, “Yeah, of course we’re friends.” He’d smile warmly at him. “That’s why I won’t forgive you. If you and your ugly mug comes over here acting like that, I’ll never forgive you.”

Kaede would scoff. “You’re sorry to be alive? You’re lonely? That’s why you’re such a kid.”

”Should we be apart, should we separate, and should we never meet again, all of that doesn’t matter!” Kaito would wave a dismissive hand.

”As long as you don’t forget, we will always live inside of you!”

Then, after a moment, he grit his teeth beneath the tape.

Get it together, Shuichi.

Slowly, shakily, he tilted his head down. He pressed the side of his face against the rough floor and began to drag it across the concrete, the edge of the tape catching against the surface. It burned and it made him hiss through his nose but forced himself to keep going.

Scrape. Scrape.

The tape caught.

Scrape.

It was loosening. He could feel it.

Scrape. Scrape

Just a little more…

Scrape—

Suddenly, the tape peeled back just enough for his mouth to open. His chest heaved as his breath hitched violently, his lips pulling apart as the tape clung to his chin. He coughed, sucking in a sharp, shaky breath through his mouth. His lips were dry and cracked, but he didn’t care.

“Hhh… hh… hh…” His mouth hung open as he forced air into his burning lungs. “...H- help…someone…anyone…”

God, he sounded so weak. “…I’m… I’m here…” His lips trembled. “P- Please… I’m… I’m still here…”

His chest rose and fell unevenly as his breathing quickened. His hands tugged helplessly against the ropes binding him to the broken chair. Then his throat closed up, more tears slipping down his face.

“I’m… alive… I’m still alive—”

His mouth opened.

“I’M ALIVE!! I’M HERE!!”

His voice cracked as he screamed, his throat burning as the sound echoed painfully off the walls.

“PLEASE- SOMEONE- PLEASE!!”

His scream broke into a sob as his chest heaved. His throat ached, but he kept screaming until his voice was raw.

“I’M ALIVE! I’M HERE!! PLEASE!!”

Notes:

Bro I got a few stares sent my way cuz I was literally writing this inside my prom venue💔 (Also I went to the eye doctor yesterday and they told me my right eye was 4/20 which is horrible😭 The doc can’t guarantee if my eyesight will go back to normal cuz it seems kinda late now for my age. So um, next updates might be slow cuz now I can’t exceed more than 2 hours on my phone…😔)

Anyways, hooray! Go Shuichi!! :D My bro legit has been through so much, but he’s still standing—and so are you!! Even when it feels like everything’s falling apart, you’ve both made it this far. That strength means something. You’ve already survived so much—don’t stop now. Keep going. :)

Chapter 23: Ten of Hearts 6.7

Summary:

To remember is to relive, but never exactly as it was. Memories are moments that slip through our minds like grains of sand, some sticking while others fade into nothing. A happy memory can turn bittersweet when viewed through regret, while painful ones can soften with understanding. We think of memory as truth, but it’s more like a reflection in a river’s water, clear one moment and distorted the next.

Notes:

Anyways, Makoto and Shuichi friendship🔛🔝

________________________________

The brunette took in what seemed to be the Mark of the City; they made it sound so grand, she’d be pissed if this place actually held no answers.

After she left that scrawny yet smart boy with navy hair in the building after the Five of Spades, she headed back to her base, a warehouse of some sorts. She was familiar with that place, though. She vaguely remembered a suicide case happening there several years ago. But as a trained assassin, she wasn’t afraid of a mundane case such as that. She couldn’t stop thinking about how that same boy started screaming about the locations and everything, even at the cost of risking his life. She could never do that, she only lives for herself, not for others. On her way there, she spotted a suspicious group of people talking about the Borderlands. Eager to learn the truth of the disappearances, she threatened them for answers, which led her here.

It looked like Shibuya Mark City, but twisted and wrong. People were partying, drinking, gambling, having sex…and so on. It wasn’t like your usual shopping centre anymore. She was beginning to have doubts about this place.

As she walked with her hands tucked under pockets, a figure bumped into her shoulder.

”Watch it,” she called flatly, sending them a glare.

”Oh?” A boy’s voice, light and playful, responded. “My bad.”

Her eyes narrowed upon seeing who she collided with. He was short, with unkempt purple hair and bright violet eyes, like rotting lilacs drowned in stagnant water. He wore casual clothes, but the most noticeable feature was his checkered scarf.

”Hey, weren’t you in Tag?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

He was there?, she thought. Her eyes narrowed, surveying his face for a moment, then it clicked. “Yeah. You were there too.”

He guffawed. “Wow, good memory! And here I thought I didn’t leave much of an impression.”

”You didn’t.”

”Ouch. That’s cold, even for you,” he snickered.

Sigh. Might as well… “What’s your name?”

”Kokichi Oma. Labeled Ultimate Supreme Leader!” He gave an exaggerated bow, one hand pressed to his chest. “And future ruler of the Borderlands.”

She remained unimpressed. “That’s not funny.”

He straightened his back, his smile still stitched into his face. “Didn’t say it was.” Then he leaned forward slightly. “And you are?”

”...Maki Harukawa. Labeled Assassin.”

Kokichi’s grin faltered ever so slightly, his expression becoming curious and maybe wary. “Assassin?”

”Yeah, so?” Maki arched an eyebrow.

”Wow, no denial?” His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “Most people would try to dance around something like that.”

A harsh laugh escaped her throat. “I don’t care what people think.”

”And yet you just admitted it so easily. Kinda suspicious, don’t you think?”

Maybe it was a mistake starting a conversation with him. “What are you trying to say?”

”Ohhhh, nothing~” He sang playfully. “Just wondering how someone with a sick background like yours ended up in the Borderlands. Funny. I thought assassins were supposed to be good at surviving.”

She scowled. “And what are you supposed to be good at?”

”Lying,” he answered, like it was the most obvious fact in the whole world—it kind of was. “But you already knew that, right?”

”It’s obvious,” she folded her arms across her chest.

”So why are you still talking to me, hmmm?” A self-satisfied smirk bloomed on his face, spreading like a stain.

”I’m trying to figure out how someone so annoying managed to survive the games.” Her sigh scraped the air.

He laughed. “Aw, that’s cute. Were you worried about me?”

”No.”

”Well, maybe you should’ve been.” He lifted his fingers, absentmindedly fiddling with loose strands. “I’m pretty dangerous, y’know.”

”Not to me,” she spoke coldly.

”Ouch!” He staggered back, clutching his heart as though struck by a bullet. “Hurts more coming from an assassin.”

Her gaze sharpened. “If you know what I am, then you should keep your distance.”

He leaned back, hands behind his head casually. “Nah, that’s boring.” His smile turned relaxed. “Besides, you’re not going to kill me.”

”You don’t know that.” She hated how this guy was testing her patience.

His smile continued to perch on his lips. “Maybe not. But I think you’d hesitate.”

”Do you really wanna find out?”

He began to nod, acting like this was a serious matter. “Touchy, touchy. Must’ve hit a nerve. Guess that assassin blood’s still in there somewhere.”

Her head lowered. “You don’t know anything about me.”

”Sure I do,” he replied sweetly. “Cold, ruthless, not much of a personality beyond that whole ‘scary killer’ thing. Bet you’re just thrilled to be stuck here with the rest of us.”

”More thrilled than you,” she rolled her eyes.

His lips curled back so far it was almost painful to look at. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m very good at surviving.”

She scoffed. ”By hiding behind others.”

”At least I don’t kill them.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re really testing your luck.”

”And you’re really easy to piss off,” he shot back, “not very assassin-like, is it?”

She huffed, turning away sharply, walking away. “Go to hell,” she retorted over her shoulder.

And he laughed. “Already there!”

*****************************************************

Shuichi’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked hard, trying to clear his sight, but the shapes in front of him slowly came into focus. Two figures. One with brown hair and the other with vibrant red. His heart skipped a beat, relief washing over him like cold water after being left in the sun for too long. He was in a new room now. It was an empty restaurant, and it seemed someone managed to hear him after all.

Without a word, Makoto pulled him into a hug, a gentle smile softening the lines of worry on his face. Shuichi stiffened at first, his body still tense from the fear that had gripped him moments ago. But as Makoto’s arms tightened around him, he let himself relax, if only a little. His breathing evened out. His head rested against Makoto’s shoulder for a brief moment, and for the first time in what felt like several hours, he didn’t feel completely alone.

”It’s good to see you,” Makoto whispered, his hand brushing lightly over his back before he pulled away.

Shuichi wanted to say something, thank him, but before he could, the redhead crossed her arms and frowned. “Nyeh…sorry, but we only have 30 minutes left.”

His head snapped up. “30 minutes?”

Makoto handed him a registration phone. “Here.”

Shuichi took it with shaky hands, the smooth surface cold against his palm. He forced his fingers to stop trembling as he tapped the screen, allowing the facial recognition to take process. His gaze flicked between them.

”Okay…” He nodded slowly. “Explain the rules to me. Quickly.”

In a few minutes, Makoto and the redhead–Himiko Yumeno, the Ultimate Mage (not really, she’s just a magician), as she said–explained the rules of the Ten of Hearts. They carefully went over each step, and everything that has happened so far. They went through the death of the victim–Tenko, the mass hysteria, and the mass killings. By the time they finished, silence enveloped them.

Shuichi let out a heavy sigh when he sat on one of the chairs. “This is the worst of the games yet…”

”But just like those horse-headed taggers we met before, they were forced to participate with rules of their own.” Makoto concluded, pacing around the room. “I’m sure…it’s the same this time. The witch had to kill Tenko to start the game and try to survive until the end of it.”

Himiko flinched upon the mention of her deceased friend, pouting a little. Shuichi’s voice scraped against his throat like broken glass when he spoke up. “In other words, the witch wins the game if everyone at the Mark of the City either gets a Game Over or is killed by the laser.”

”But who could be the witch?” Makoto’s hands shot to his hips, his head dropping with a sharp exhale. He hummed thoughtfully, “If I were the witch, I’d join the others in the hunt. Because it’d be Game Over if I was caught, right?”

”So, it’s someone in the militant corps?” Himiko mused, fidgeting with her fingers.

”It can’t be Toko since she doesn’t like blood at all,” Makoto shook his head. “Then…Syo, Korekiyo, or Mukuro?”

”No,” Shuichi’s head whipped side to side slowly. “If that was the case, the militant corps would simply kill each other. It…doesn’t feel like that’s the purpose of the game.”

”Nyeh… The purpose of the game?”

The detective lifted his head up in determination. “This is a Hearts game. It’s not just a physical game. I know because I’ve cleared a hearts game before… It’s the most evil of the games. You toy with people’s feelings. You betray and try to kill each other.” He stared at the palm of his hand, like he could still feel the warmth of their hands. “The Heart games can chip away at your own heart,” he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Even if the militant corps wins, other conflicts will turn up.”

”So, what should we do?” Himiko quered, exchanging glances with Makoto.

Shuichi’s gaze drifted toward the floor, replaying Makoto’s words in his head, the explanation about the witch and the militant corps circling in his thoughts like vultures. It made sense–on the surface, at least–but that was the problem. It felt too neat, too straightforward for a Hearts game. The witch’s goal was to survive by eliminating everyone else, but why would the game design itself to push the militant corps toward self-destruction? If that were the case, the game would end too quickly. There wouldn’t be enough suffering.

Hearts games are psychological, not physical. They thrive on emotional strain and mental manipulation. But if the militant corps just turned on each other…it wouldn’t be enough. No, there had to be another layer beneath the surface. Some hidden mechanism, an unseen pressure designed to drive the players to despair.

”Something’s not right.” His eye twitched slightly, moving his hand up to scratch the back of his head. “What could it be?

The objective was survival, but Hearts games were never that simple. Directly killing everyone would be too plain. The witch wouldn’t win by brute force alone. They’d have to manipulate the group, twist their emotions, and make them turn on each other. To divide and conquer.

His fingers curled against his palm. If I were the witch…how would I steer the game to win?

*****************************************************

Korekiyo’s golden sword flashed through the air, the blade catching the dim light as he swung toward Maki without hesitation. Maki twisted her body, narrowly avoiding the strike, but her footing slipped on the uneven ground. She grit her teeth, springing forward with a swift kick aimed at his side. He turned, deflecting the blow with the flat of his sword, and countered with a downward strike. She raised her arms to block, the force of the impact making her arms tremble. Her breath came in sharp bursts. He was faster than she expected, and the reach of his weapon gave him an edge.

“You’re skilled,” he remarked, “but in the end, you’re only human.”

Maki lunged again, this time feinting to the left before aiming a sharp jab toward his throat. Korekiyo sidestepped, his sword glinting as it sliced toward her exposed side. Maki’s eyes widened. It was too fast. She couldn’t dodge in time.

But all of a sudden,

”Outta the way, bitch!”

A blur of gold and pink shot between them. Maki stumbled back as Miu shoved her aside, a jagged metal pipe–the same pipe she dropped–clanging against Korekiyo’s sword with a loud clang! Sparks flew.

“The hell are you doing?” Maki growled, pushing herself up.

Miu grinned, flipping her hair back. “Tch, you looked like you needed a hand.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, too bad! You were about to get your pretty little head sliced off!” She snickered, gripping her pipe tighter. “Besides, you think I’m gonna let weird mask boy win that easily?”

Korekiyo’s head tilted slightly. “How interesting… Two against one? Hardly fair.”

The inventor sneered. “Yeah? Cry about it!”

Maki rolled her eyes. “Just don’t slow me down.”

“You wish.”

Maki and Miu surged forward together. Maki’s fist shot toward Korekiyo’s face while Miu swung her pipe low toward his legs. Korekiyo parried the punch, but the pipe connected with his knee. His leg buckled slightly, giving Maki an opening to strike his side with a sharp kick. He stumbled back, his sword swinging in a wide arc to regain control, but Miu was already there, her pipe crashing against his weapon with a metallic screech.

His gaze darkened. “You’re both quite troublesome.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point!” The latter taunted.

Maki darted behind him in a blur of movement, locking her arms around his shoulders. Korekiyo’s eyes narrowed as he tried to break free, but Miu was already raising her pipe. “Night-night, creep!” She swung the pipe down hard, striking him across the mask. The crack deepened, and Korekiyo’s body collapsed under the force, his golden sword clattering to the ground.

Maki released him, breathing hard. “It’s over.”

Miu twirled her pipe with a cocky smirk. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” She snorted.

As they left Korekiyo unconscious on the ground, Maki’s gaze drifted toward Miu. Her breathing was still heavy from the fight, but her eyes lingered on the other girl longer than intended. Miu walked ahead with a confident swagger, twirling the metal pipe lazily in one hand. She only got to interact with this girl today. Sure, they already introduced each other one time but kinda dropped already, but…she looked so familiar.

Her brows furrowed. Why did it feel like this wasn’t the first time they’d fought side by side? It felt so strange, the way Miu had covered her without hesitation, the way Maki had instinctively fallen into sync with her movements. It was like muscle memory.

Miu glanced over her shoulder, catching Maki staring. “What?”

Maki blinked, her expression hardening. “Nothing.”

“Geez, at least say thanks,” She scoffed.

Her mouth twitched slightly. “I said I didn’t need help.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miu waved her hand dismissively, ”whatever.”

Maki’s eyes lingered a second longer. Why does this feel so familiar?

*****************************************************

”No.”

Shuichi barely noticed the faint tremor in his hand as he clenched his fist.

”I shouldn’t be putting myself in the witch’s shoes.” His lips curled into a twitching smile. “I should be in the shoes of the mastermind.”

Makoto’s forehead creased deeply. “Mastermind?”

The detective’s head slowly turned toward him, his eyes locking onto Makoto’s. “Don’t you see? The game was designed to suit both its location and its players. Right after Junko was killed, Tenko was murdered.” He lifted his hand, staring at his palm as though searching for answers in the lines of his skin. His hand trembled slightly before he closed it into a fist. “Someone who knows the ins and outs of the Mark of the City…constructed the game and its timing.”

“You think the two deaths didn’t happen at the same time by chance?” He said.

”It’s likely that the mastermind has been waiting for this moment.” Shuichi’s voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “Waiting for the perfect conditions to make their move.”

“Nyeh… Seriously?” Himiko’s hands curled into her lap as she shifted uncomfortably on the chair. “Then…who’s the witch?”

Makoto began pacing again, his hand pressed against his chin. “Junko’s death was announced after Tenko died.” His steps slowed. “The only people who knew of her death before that…were the militant corps and the executives.”

“But the mastermind may have known about Junko’s death too.” Shuichi’s brows tugged downward.

Himiko’s shoulders sagged, her voice growing faint. “Then everyone at the Mark of the City is a suspect…”

“When I passed by the lobby an hour before the game started,” Makoto hesitated, “Tenko’s body wasn’t there.”

The magician’s gaze lifted. “Someone must have moved her body there sometime during that hour.” She hugged her knees to her chest as she sat down on the edge of a table.

Shuichi’s head shook slowly. “No point questioning someone,” he murmured. His lips pressed into a thin line as his hand curled at his side. “The witch can simply lie.”

His wrists still ached at the memory of the restraints.

His hand lifted to his temple. His fingers pressed into his skin as if trying to steady his thoughts. “The question is…why did the game start when it did? Why did they wait for Junko’s death before starting the game?”

It’s not random. They knew exactly when to start. The game needed a catalyst. Something to create chaos. His heart hammered painfully in his chest. Junko’s death wasn’t just an opening, it was part of the design.

Makoto’s voice cut through the haze. “I’m guessing it was...to throw the Mark of the City into a state of confusion.”

“If that’s true…” His brow dipped low, his eyes hardening to a needlepoint. “If I were the mastermind, what would I do next?”

*****************************************************

Kyoko sat in the dimly lit room, her gloved hands steady as she held the knife over the heat of the lamp. Thin tendrils of smoke curled upward as the glue reacted to the heat. She narrowed her eyes, watching intently. Almost there…

The moisture in the glue began to evaporate, leaving behind a thin, hazy residue. Slowly, the outline of a fingerprint emerged, faint but distinct. Kyoko’s breath hitched. Carefully, she reached for the small tin of cocoa powder and lightly dusted the surface. The print sharpened beneath her touch.

Her lavender eyes widened.

“But of course.” Her lips curled into a thin smile. “I know who it is.”

She strode toward the door, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor. Her hand pressed against the cold metal of the handle as she pulled the door open—

THWACK.

Pain exploded at the side of her head. Her vision swam, and the ground beneath her lurched violently. A metallic taste filled her mouth as her body crumpled forward. A figure loomed over her, a militant.

Her breath faltered as her head struck the floor. The plastic sleeve containing the fingerprint slipped from her grasp, sliding across the floor. Her vision blurred as the last thing she saw was the outline of the figure’s boots stepping over her before the world faded to black.

*****************************************************

Shuichi replayed the details in his mind. The timing of the deaths. The placement of the body. The structure of the game itself. It all fits together, but how?

His breath quickened as the pieces began to align. His eyes widened and his chair scraped against the floor as he suddenly stood up.

“Shuichi?” Himiko’s head snapped up. “What is it?”

His hand rose to his mouth, his fingertips brushing against his lips as his eyes shadowed over. His breath escaped in a thin, trembling exhale. His hand fell to his side.

“I think I know…” he said, “…who the witch is.”

Notes:

So uh, pretend the fight scene against Kiyo was longer🙏

My final exams just finished and summer vacation officially started!!

Hooray! I’m so close to finally finishing season 1! September 2024 me wouldn’t have thought it was possible for me to actually got through a story without ending on the second chapter, but here we are!! :D

Thank you for still being here and reading up till now! See you next chapter!

Chapter 24: Ten of Hearts 6.8

Summary:

Grief is like holding your breath underwater, waiting for someone to pull you up—except no one’s coming. You finally surface, gasping for air, and realize the person who used to save you isn’t there anymore.

Notes:

An extra long one bc Ten of Hearts has gone on long enough and I want to end it before it reaches 6.10 or so😭🙏 Advance sorry for the occasional flashback. :’)

________________________________

The fire began to grow louder, fueled by the burning flesh and bone. Muscles were tightened and split open, exposing tendons that curled and shrank under the heat. Their eyes melted in their sockets, leaving hollow gaps in skulls, as the bodies were reduced to smoldering heaps of ash and blackened bone. The fire simply burned louder and more violent with every passing second.

”FIFTEEN MINUTES REMAINING.”

In the main lobby, Mukuro’s troops stood in a rigid line, guns raised at the crowd. People shrank back instinctively, some raising their hands while others hunched over, trembling. Their eyes widened in quiet panic, but no one dared to scream or run. She had only said one thing amidst all of this.

”Kill them all.”

One of the militants who stood among the soldiers had his hands trembling as he tried to lift his gun. His grip faltered, the barrel dipping slightly before he forced it back up, only for it to waver again. The others were as still as a statue, guns raised without hesitation, but his arm refused to steady no matter how hard he tried.

Without warning, Mukuro stepped forward and drove her boot into their shin with a brutal kick. A sickening crack went through the lobby as the man’s leg buckled, and they collapsed to one knee with a strangled gasp. His rifle slipped from their grip, clattering onto the cold floor.

”Did you hear me? Don’t hesitate.” She scowled at the man, then everyone. “Anyone who defies me here is the witch.”

Before they could even process the pain, Mukuro pulled out her gun and leveled it directly at his head. The man’s breath hitched, their eyes going wide as the cold barrel pressed against their forehead—

”That’s enough!”

A sharp yell sliced through the tension, snapping every head toward the source. There stood Shuichi, his arm was slung over Makoto’s shoulder for support, while Himiko steadied his other side.

”This ends now!” Makoto shouted, guiding Shuichi to the center as the crowd stepped back.

”You…” Shuichi began, “you had me tied up the whole time.” He removed his arm over Makoto to take a step forward, albeit a little wobbly. “When the murder happened, that’s where I was. So that means you know that…that I can’t be the witch.” His chest heaved, pausing for a brief moment. “And if you aren’t the witch, you don’t need to kill me. Just please work with me- and we’ll find the real witch!”

Mukuro’s expression didn’t change as she approached him. Her scowl deepened, “Idiot.”

Without another thought, the butt of her gun slammed into Shuichi’s face with a brutal crack. His head snapped sideways as he collapsed to the floor with a sharp gasp. Blood dripped from his mouth as his hand weakly pressed against the ground.

”Shuichi!” Himiko yelled. She lunged toward Mukuro, grabbing her arm. “Stop it…!” But the soldier’s arm twisted sharply, and Himiko was sent sprawling to the ground with a harsh thud.

”Stop…!” Makoto cried out, rushing toward Himiko to help her up. His breath hitched as he turned toward Mukuro. “I know everything now!” He yelled. “You’re going after Shuichi even though you know he didn’t do it. And that’s because…you’re the witch!”

Mukuro’s hand seized Shuichi’s collar and lifted him into the air. His legs dangled beneath him as his hands clawed weakly at her wrist. The gun slammed into his cheek again, leaving a smear of blood on his skin. Shuichi’s head lolled slightly, his breathing becoming shallow once again. Then—

”Are you…the witch?”

The hesitant voice came from the crowd. Silence enveloped the room for a moment as the soldier glanced around.

”Yes,” she said, “I am the witch.”

The militants’ eyes widened, then their rifles lifted in unison, the barrels clicking into place as they pointed directly at her. She was still indifferent to their reaction. They watched in terror as she walked up to one of the people pointing a gun at her.

”Go ahead,” she gave them a nod, “do it!”

A shaky voice cut through it. “W- Well… shoot her…!” A hesitant man in the crowd raised his rifle, his hands trembling.

Shuichi, still crumpled on the floor, wiped a smear of blood from his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. His chest heaved as he forced himself to speak.

”Mukuro is not the witch!”

The air seemed to freeze as the people with their guns raised hesitated, glancing at each other. Mukuro's head turned toward Shuichi, her expression impassive as she stared down at him.

Shuichi coughed, more blood staining his sleeve as he pressed a hand to his side. “It’s a Ten of Hearts game. It plays with your feelings and emotions. You’re not gonna win by killing Mukuro. That’s not how this game works. I know you're not the witch. So why then? You gotta have another reason…”

Himiko rubbed the side of her head, still wincing from where Mukuro had thrown her earlier. “What…what are you saying?”

Shuichi’s lips twitched upward in a weak, bitter smile. “The one that you killed…wasn’t Tenko.”

The soldiers who had their guns trained on Mukuro hesitated, the barrels lowering slightly.

”...It was Junko.”

Mukuro’s mouth remained closed, but her eyes darkened.

”I could see it right away in your eyes,” Shuichi whispered. “It was like you lost all hope and… just gave up.” His head lowered slightly. “I had that same feeling…when I killed my friends.” He pushed himself upright. “You’re not dumb. But as soon as you took over, you wanted to kill everyone. And that's not like you. So you…had to have another motive.”

”Ever since I came to the Mark of the City, I couldn't quite figure it out. If you had possession of all these guns, why didn’t the militant corps take over a long time ago?” His head shook slowly. “That never happened until now. Because in the end…you weren’t against Junko at all. Didn’t you actually help each other out?”

And Mukuro’s jaw tensed.

”You wanted to make sure that…scary people like Syo didn’t go ballistic. You tried to hold them back.”

More guns wavered and shoulders sagged. Up on the second floor, leaning casually against the railing, Kokichi’s grin widened. His chin rested on his hand, tilting his head curiously as he watched the detective below. What a truly amusing sight indeed.

Shuichi’s legs nearly gave out as he took another shaky step forward, his arms shaking at his sides. “I know…how close you and Junko were. I mean, you guys were sisters, right?”

The soldier’s fingers curled so tightly around the gun that her knuckles turned white.

”Then why did you kill her?” He asked, but answered the question before she could. “Because you could never forgive her for what she did,” he said. “You wanted it all to stop, but it was too late. You didn’t recognize her anymore…isn’t that right?”

*****************************************************

The shopping center was silent.

Not just empty, silent. The kind of silence that stretched long and uneasy, where even the softest footsteps seemed to echo endlessly, bouncing off the lifeless walls. A blonde woman walked ahead, her posture straight. Behind her followed a black-haired woman, her face blank and unreadable.

Junko Enoshima extended her arm outward, fingers splayed, as if reaching for something unseen. “A better world isn’t found; it’s created, choice by choice.” She paused, a smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s what he said.”

A mockery of wisdom, twisted into something far more self-serving. She gestured sharply, as though slicing through the air itself. “I will make a land of hope... No, a land of ME. A society where they will crawl to me, cling to me, worship me. And I will be the center of it all! Me. Me, me, me.” Her grin widened, a little too sharp, a little too hungry. “A goddess, a queen, the only thing that matters!”

Mukuro Ikusoba remained silent. She had seen this before; this feverish, all-consuming declaration of purpose. It was something that pulsed in Junko’s veins like a sickness, something that drove her forward, pushing her to tear down and rebuild in her own image.

Junko turned to her sister, smiling. “This will be where Junko Enoshima will be truly born.”

She watched; she listened; and she said nothing.

For a moment, that is.

”That’s impossible.”

It was. Junko Enoshima had already been born in the real world. Why be born again in another world?

”Really?” Junko scoffed, stepping forward to Mukuro, then placed her hands on her shoulders. “We can and will do it together.”

******

Later, Junko successfully managed to build herself an obedient cult. It had started small. A few desperate people seeking guidance, craving someone to follow in the madness of the Borderland games. Junko offered them security under her rule, they wouldn’t have to face the games alone. The choice was simple: obey Junko, or face the terror of the Borderlands alone. It was a kingdom of aimless survivors, and she was the queen.

It didn’t take long for her influence to spread, as the weak and the frightened clung to her promises of protection. And once they saw how easily she dispatched threats to their survival, reverence turned to worship.

Junko stood on a marble balcony overlooking the lobby below. The people–at least over fifty of them–stood in neat, rigid rows beneath her, eyes raised toward her. Militants lined behind her, rifles slung across their backs. From above, Junko resembled a monarch addressing her loyal subjects.

“Hear my words now,” she called out,“we’re all in this together. Alwe’re going to unite and gather all the cards…and get back to the world we knew!”

A wave of cheers erupted through the hall, and eyes gleamed with the fragile hope that Junko had so carefully cultivated. Her smile widened as she lowered her hand, letting the sound wash over her—

—The scene shifted, and Mukuro stood frozen in the doorway of a dimly lit room, as she stared at the display before her. Junko stood over a pile of bloodied corpses, her white robe stained dark red along the hem. Blood pooled beneath the bodies, the sickly metallic scent hanging heavy in the air. Mukuro’s eyes widened as Junko, panting lightly, stood over one of the bodies and shook a handful of playing cards in her hand.

“Idiots…” Junko’s eyes narrowed as she tossed the cards onto the floor. “Motherfuckers thought they could hide their playing cards from me.”

Mukuro’s gaze drifted toward one of the men on the floor. He was still alive, his body twitching weakly as a faint, pained sound escaped his throat. Blood leaked from his mouth, bubbling at the edges of his lips before trailing down his chin in thin, dark rivulets. His eyes, wide and glassy, flickered toward Junko. A voiceless plea before his head lolled weakly to the side. Junko’s head tilted slightly before she crouched down and grabbed him roughly by the collar. Without hesitation, she drove her fist into his face–once, twice, again and again. His skull bounced off the floor with each impact, as his bones splintered beneath her knuckles, cartilage giving way with a sickening squelch. She didn’t stop until the body beneath her slackened completely, the light fading from his swollen, bloodied eyes. She brushed strands of hair from her face with a careless smile, the smudge of blood across her cheek bright and raw.

Junko’s head turned toward her, that crooked grin widening. “Mukuro,” she said smoothly. She stepped forward, blood still dripping from her hand. “As of this day, there will be a new rule,” her smile deepened, “‘death to all traitors.’”

*****************************************************

Mukuro’s breath came out ragged, her eyes burning with a quiet rage as she glared down at Shuichi.

“You don’t know anything!” she snarled. Her fist slammed into his face with brutal force, a sharp crack echoing through the tense silence. Shuichi’s head jerked to the side as bits of blood splattered across the cold floor.

“Stop it!” Makoto rushed toward them, grabbing Mukuro’s arm in an attempt to pull her back. “Mukuro, that’s enough- he’s not—”

But the soldier tore herself away from him. Her knee slammed into Shuichi’s stomach, and he doubled over with a pained gasp. Himiko stumbled toward them, wide-eyed and frantic.

“Stop!” she cried, grabbing her arm from the other side. “You’ll kill him!”

Mukuro easily shoved them both aside with a single harsh motion, sending Makoto stumbling backward and knocking Himiko to the ground. Shuichi coughed violently, blood dripping from his mouth as he sagged in her grasp. Her eyes sharpened dangerously as she pulled him upright by his collar.

Shuichi’s face was a mess of blood and bruises, one of his eyes already swelling shut. He barely had the strength to keep his head upright, but his clouded gaze still met hers.

Her knuckles whitened as her hand twisted in the fabric of his shirt. “You know nothing.”

*****************************************************

The night was suffocatingly quiet, as Mukuro, Junko, and two guards arrived at the game venue.

“This way.” One of the guards gestured toward the game arena’s metal doors. Junko gave him a slow nod, her expression unreadable beneath the dark shades perched on her nose. Without a word, they proceeded forward.

The entrance was grand, almost theatrical in design. The doors were massive, decorated with elaborate carvings of twisted shapes and symbols. Beyond the doors, the venue opened into a cavernous hall lined with sterile walls. A circular platform sat in the center, surrounded by rows of dark seats. The whole room smelled faintly of iron and sweat.

Mukuro sat down in one of the chairs, her gaze flicking toward the rusted metal sign hanging above the platform. It bore the emblem of the Mark of the City. Junko stood beside her, arms crossed as she stared up at it.

Junko sighed. “This brings back memories,” she said wistfully. “This place really hasn’t changed at all.”

Mukuro’s fists tightened in her lap. She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat.

Say it.

Say it before you lose the nerve.

“Look…” She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Junko’s gaze. “I’m done.”

Junko’s head turned toward her slowly. The glasses reflected the dim lights above them, hiding her eyes.

Mukuro’s throat burned. “We’re losing control of Syo and the militant corps. Let’s get rid of the Mark of the City.”

Junko slid her sunglasses off, tucking them lazily into her shirt collar. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, like she was amused. “Get rid of it?” Her head tilted slightly. “Every member of the Mark of the City is consumed with the happiness they found there.”

No turning back now.

“Getting back to the old world by gathering a few cards was just a lie you came up with,” she spoke. “We need to end this.”

“So you’re…betraying me, then?” Her arms extended slightly, the movement oddly graceful. “‘Death to all traitors,’ right? That’s the rule of the Mark of the City. Remember that.”

Mukuro’s nails dug into her palms. “The Mark means nothing. Just stop this.”

“Why would I stop?” She replied affectionately. “A utopia where everyone lives to serve me… That was the whole point.”

The soldier stood abruptly. Her chair scraped harshly against the floor, the sound grating in the silence. “It’s bullshit, and you know it!” Her chest heaved as her eyes hardened. “You never cared about saving anyone. You just wanted control. You wanted to be worshipped.”

Her hands were shaking slightly at her sides.

“You made them think you were a god. But you’re not,” she continued, “You’re not invincible.”

And Junko’s smile faded, her expression turning blank.

“I followed you because you were my sister,” Mukuro whispered. “I believed in you. But now… You’ve gone too far.”

Junko’s gaze lowered, her eyes shadowed beneath the lights as she turned and walked away.

“Sometimes…” she began, “a queen is forced to make difficult decisions,” she slowly turned around, “even if it means hurting someone close to her.”

Mukuro’s mouth parted to speak, but then Junko’s hand slipped into the pocket of her jacket.

Now, her hand curled around the handle of a gun.

Time stretched unbearably thin. Mukuro’s eyes broadened as Junko pulled the weapon free, lifting it toward her.

“My sister.”

Junko’s finger curled over the trigger—

Mukuro ducked and her hand shot toward her holster, reaching for her own gun.

Bang!

*****************************************************

Shuichi’s head lolled slightly as he looked up at her, his face battered and bloodied. His eye was beginning to swell shut, but the other one remained open.

“I know…what it feels like to see the ones you love die.” His chest rose and fell rapidly. “To kill them. I see it. You killed your sister.”

Mukuro’s eyes spreaded slightly, but she didn’t loosen her grip.

The detective coughed weakly. “I see it in your eyes. Self-loathing…self-abandonment… Those eyes full of rage that can’t be released—they’re almost like mine.” His head inclined slightly, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The day I killed my friends.”

“And now,” he continued, his voice straining as another breathless cough escaped his lips, “you just want to kill everyone here because they were the ones who made your sister crazy.”

A single tear slipped down Mukuro’s cheek, like the first raindrop falling from a stormless sky. Her face remained blank, like a statue weathered by time, but her hands trembled faintly against the fabric of Shuichi’s shirt.

“These painful feelings of yours,” he whispered, his voice slowly getting louder, “the mastermind is using all of them. That’s why it’s a game of Hearts. Don’t you get that?!”

“Shut up!” Mukuro shoved him harshly to the ground.

A stunned silence followed, but a man from the crowd broke it.

“So if all of this is true,” he spoke up shakily, “then…Mukuro wanted to kill everyone no matter what the game was.”

Another man glanced toward him, nodding. “She had you do it.”

“And we said nothing and went along with it all,” a third man muttered, his gaze dropping toward the floor.

A woman’s voice broke the tension. “So, who here is the witch, then?”

Shuichi forced himself to sit up, raggedly. His hands pressed weakly against the ground, his shoulders trembling beneath the effort. Blood trickled down his chin, a dark ribbon staining his skin. His swollen eye clouded the world in a soft, dreamlike haze, but he remained steady.

“I know who it is,” his breath hitched painfully as he lifted his head. “I know who the real witch is.”

“A mastermind…” He trailed as he continued, “…uses similar characteristics in every game. In a game of Hearts, they usually make a fool out of everyone.”

*****************************************************

”DIFFICULTY, SEVEN OF HEARTS.”

Shuichi’s eyes widened, like old stitches tearing apart. “Hearts?” He paused, then slowly recited. “...You play with people’s hearts and you tear them apart.” He stared blankly at the screen, his eyes glazed over like the glassy stare of a corpse.

Kaito’s eyebrows sank low like two heavy clouds. “Seven? Isn’t that kinda difficult?”

Then Kirumi grabbed a metal hammer. “I have an idea!”

Once Kirumi had drawn the attention of every player, their gazes locking onto hers like the grip of a noose tightening around a neck, the role of the Wolf was forced upon her. In that frozen moment, her eyes met another’s across the space. The hammer in her hand felt heavier now, not just a tool but the weapon of a hunter. Without a word, she ran into the depths of the botanical garden, the vast expanse of greenery now nothing more than a battleground dressed in vines and leaves.

”Kirumi! The one that needs to hide in this game is the Wolf!” Kaito’s voice tore through the stillness, thick with anger, as if the truth had clawed its way out of his throat.

*****************************************************

Shuichi wiped a trail of blood from the corner of his mouth. “It might be that…there really was a way to end the game…without having to kill everyone. A solution where…nobody has to get hurt, and no one has to die.”

“But that’s impossible.” A woman’s voice rose from the crowd and her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “We have to hunt down the witch and burn them in the Fire of Judgement, right?”

Shuichi shook his head slowly. His arms trembled as he tried to push himself up again, but his body protested beneath the weight of exhaustion and pain. Makoto quickly moved to his side and helped him stand, his hand firm beneath Shuichi’s arm.

“No,” he said quietly. “The witch could be right here and…no one dies.”

Slowly, he raised a weak arm and pointed toward someone.

“It’s…Tenko.” His finger shook as it hovered in the air. “She was the witch all along.”

A heavy silence swept through the crowd, the kind that makes you suddenly aware of your own breathing. No one spoke; no one even moved. There were only wide eyes and shallow breaths, like they were waiting for permission to exist again. It stretched on too long, curling at the edges, turning stale and uncomfortable.

Another woman’s mouth parted slightly in disbelief. “So, wait…she stabbed herself in the chest?”

”Yes.” He nodded slowly. “If I were the mastermind…that’s exactly what I would come up with—”

WHAM!

Mukuro’s leg slammed into Shuichi’s chest with a swift roundhouse kick. His body hit the ground hard–again, the breath knocked from his lungs. His back scraped against the floor as he gasped for air, while her narrowed eyes were burning with rage.

“You’re full of shit!” she snarled, “I’m the witch!”

She turned to the crowd, her hands twitching by her sides as if ready to strike. “You all want to kill me, right?”

Her gaze darted from one person to another, her hand twitching toward her sidearm. “What are you waiting for? Come on. Come and get me!”

The crowd hesitated, shifting uncomfortably as Mukuro stalked toward them. Her steps were sharp and deliberate. A man took a step back, and Mukuro’s gaze immediately locked onto him. Suddenly, she lunged at him. The man barely had time to react before her fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Shuichi lay on the floor, clutching his side as the pain radiated through his ribs. Makoto dropped to his knees beside him, his face filled with concern.

“Mukuro’s trying to take everyone down with her,” the detective said weakly.

The soldier ducked beneath a swing, twisted behind someone, and slammed her elbow into their back. Another person rushed at her, but she swept her leg beneath them, knocking them to the ground. A man tried to restrain her from behind, but her body tensed, so she twisted sharply and drove her heel into his knee. He cried out and collapsed to the ground.

She was outnumbered, but it didn’t matter.

She was going to tear them apart.

Even as tears blur her eyes.

*****************************************************

Junko was lying on the floor, her eyes half-lidded and glassy. A pool of blood crept outward beneath her body, staining the pristine marble floor beneath her. Mukuro forced herself to stand, her gun was raised and pointed directly at her sister’s unmoving form.

Her finger twitched on the trigger.

She should shoot again, right? Make sure. Make certain. That was how you survived. That was how you won. She had been trained for this, kill or be killed. She knew the rule, and Junko had made it painfully clear.

But her hands…her hands were shaking now, unlike her usual hits.

Junko’s face was pale under the overhead lights, her blonde hair fanned out beneath her head like an angel’s halo. Why did she have to look so calm? Slowly, Mukuro’s arm dropped to her side as her eyes widened in quiet horror. She holstered the weapon, her fingers brushing against the metal at her hip before pulling away like it was burning her.

Her eyes dropped to Junko’s gun, resting near her limp hand, wondering why she was shot and she wasn’t. Mukuro crouched down, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. Her thumb slid over the chamber, and she pulled it open.

...Empty.

No bullets.

The gun was completely empty.

Mukuro dropped the gun like it was alive, stepping back as though it might lash out at her. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes broadening. She pressed her palm against her lips to stifle the sound of her breath.

She didn’t load it.

Junko–manipulative, cruel, and conniving·had aimed an empty gun at her. Why? What was the point? Was it a test? A final mind game? A twisted joke?

Or…

…Had Junko known she would shoot back?

“Oh, Junko…” she whispered. She curled forward, her forehead brushing against the dead body’s bloodstained clothes. Her hands clutched the fabric weakly, pressing her face into the soft material. “You…idiot. Why…”

She pressed her face into Junko’s chest, even as the blood soaked through her gloves and sleeves. She slowly lifted her head slowly, her bloodshot eyes staring at her blank face. Her hand slid to Junko’s cheek, brushing a lock of blonde hair away from her still features.

“You never wanted me dead.” A small laugh slipped past her lips, but it sounded broken. “God, you really were a selfish bitch.”

*****************************************************

The scream of a soldier tore through the air like a gunshot. Her breath was ragged, her eyes wild as she threw her fist into the face of the nearest man, sending him sprawling to the ground. Another person lunged at her from the side, she ducked and her knee shog upward into their gut.

”This stupid cult made her crazier!” She snarled as she grabbed someone by the collar, twisting their arm unnaturally before shoving them into the crowd. Her foot shot out, knocking another man to the ground as he tried to grab her from behind. Her knuckles were bruised and split, blood had stained her fingers; some of it hers, most of it not. “You fuckers made her crazier!”

Mukuro slammed her elbow into the jaw of a man who tried to grab her wrist. His head snapped back, and he stumbled away with a broken groan. She stood, panting, as more people circled around her. They hesitated now, but she could see the fear and rage in their eyes. They wanted her dead.

Good.

“Kill me!” She screamed, her arms spreading wide. “I'm the witch! You want justice? You want to burn someone? Then burn me!”

She lunged at the nearest person and tackled them to the ground. Her fists struck hard–one, two, three–and she felt the familiar sting of bone hitting bone beneath her knuckles. She rolled off them just in time to dodge another attack, turning and shoving her boot into someone’s chest.

Himiko watched the chaos unfold with wide, trembling eyes. The crowd scattered around her like waves crashing violently against rocks. She took a deep breath and darted forward, dropping to her knees beside Shuichi. His face was pale, blood streaking down the side of his mouth. His eyes were glassy with exhaustion and pain. But he was still awake. He was still fighting.

”Listen,” she began sharply, “I know how to stop Mukuro. Trust me!”

“What?” Makoto, still crouched down, looked at her in confusion. “Himiko, what are you talking about?”

Her eyes darkened with determination. “I’ll get her attention, alright? But you…you need to burn Tenko in the Fire of Judgement.”

Shuichi’s breath caught and his face twisted in horror. “Himiko—”

“Shuichi,” she interrupted, swallowing hard as her voice softened. “Please stop this madness. You’re smart–smarter than me. You’ll figure it out.”

Shuichi stared at her, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Himiko smiled faintly. It didn’t reach her eyes. Then she stood up. Her legs felt weak, but she didn’t let it show.

Makoto’s hand shot out toward her. “Ah- Himiko, wait!”

But she didn’t stop.

Her feet carried her toward the center of the room. Mukuro was still fighting off the crowd, fists swinging, boots slamming into ribs and limbs as people fell to the ground in bruised, broken heaps. It was starting to dawn on the crowd that they couldn’t win this. Not against Mukuro.

”Everyone!”

The fighting ground to a sickening halt, like a carcass finally giving in to rot. A collective shudder slithered through the room as heads snapped toward her, necks twisting too far, vertebrae crackling like brittle twigs underfoot. Eyes–too many of them–peeled open unnaturally wide, bulging and glassy. And there she stood, center stage, the eye of the storm, the lead actress whose entrance had torn the very fabric of the scene apart.

“I am a dealer of this game!”

For a brief moment, everything was frozen.

And then the red laser struck.

A thin line of light shot through the room.

And then Himiko’s legs gave out. Her small frame crumpled to the floor and her head lolled to the side.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Notes:

So, ummm…. I don’t know Junko and Mukuro lore that well so this was pretty ooc😔. I guess even if Junko acted pretty cruel to Mukuro, Mukuro can be somewhat mournful of her since they literally only had each other for almost their whole life. But don’t worry, that’s gonna change. She’s gonna hate her in future chapters MUAHAHAHA!!! Sorry guys, I don’t like Junko that much lmao.

Also a heads-up for 6.9, it's gonna be a little bit of backstory with Tenko and Himiko, then the rest is Himiko pov before she died, then we continue with the story!! :]

Anyways, have a great day!!

Chapter 25: Ten of Hearts 6.9

Summary:

I do not ask to witness this, yet my eyes are open and I do nothing. Not because I don’t care. Because I can’t. This is my punishment. But I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to see their agony. I don’t want to hear their cries echo in my skull long after they’ve gone silent. But no one asks what I want. So I watch. And they suffer. And I suffer, too.

Notes:

In honor of 69, I give you Tenmiko❤️

________________________________

Tenko Chabashira and Himiko Yumeno stood frozen at the edge of the street. Just a moment ago, the city had been buzzing like a beehive, filled with chatter and movement. They had been talking about nothing in particular—Himiko’s latest magic trick, Tenko’s training—when the sound of fireworks crackled in the morning sky. The two of them had rushed toward the nearest window to see the colorful burst overhead. And then nothing. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the world; the moment they turned the corner, the noise and life of the city had vanished.

The streets were empty. Too empty.

Tenko and Himiko now walked down the middle of another street, their footsteps thumping unnaturally loud against the quiet of the empty city like drumbeats in a dead theater. Cars were abandoned at odd angles, like someone had slammed on the brakes and left without a second thought, and open doors and half-eaten meals in restaurant windows sat like paused scenes in a broken film. It was as if the city had been left mid-sentence—people had clearly been there just moments ago, but now it was nothing but an empty stage.

“This is weird…really weird,” Tenko’s eyes scanned the street ahead. “Where is everyone?”

“Mmm…” Himiko mumbled, and rubbed her eyes sluggishly. Her steps slowed until Tenko turned back, watching her like she was afraid she might disappear too.

“Himiko, don’t slow down! What if something’s hiding around here?”

She sighed heavily. “Nyeh… I’m too tired for this…” She yawned, her eyes wandering toward the tall, empty buildings that stood like rows of gravestones. “Do you think…this is a dream?”

“No way! My Neo Aikido senses would definitely know if we were dreaming!” Tenko’s brow knitted.

Himiko hummed softly, unconvinced. “Maybe everyone’s playing a prank on us…”

Tenko shot her a look, crooked like bad signal bars. “A prank? How would you even pull something like this off?”

She simply shrugged. “Magic.”

“Come on, Himiko! This isn’t magic—something’s seriously wrong here!” She groaned, rubbing her temples. As much as she wanted to believe and humor her friend, now was clearly not the time.

The redhead exhaled, but her eyes drifted toward the sky. “Nyeh… But it doesn’t make sense. If this was some sort of…disaster or attack, wouldn’t we have seen something happen?”

“Yeah… It’s like they were all just…erased.”

“Or taken.”

Tenko stopped walking. “Taken?”

“You said it yourself.” She rubbed her arm beneath her sleeve. “There’s no sign of a struggle. No damage. No bodies. Just…gone.”

“Okay, but if they were taken, then why are we still here?”

“Maybe we’re special,” Himiko mumbled, but it was loud enough for the ravenette to hear.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Special?”

“Or…maybe we were left behind on purpose.”

Tenko’s chest tightened, like someone had slipped a wire around her ribs and started pulling. “That’s not funny, Himiko.”

“I’m not joking.” Himiko’s tone was quiet, but it settled uncomfortably. “If someone took them…it’s possible they wanted us to be alone.”

”But why? What could anyone want with just the two of us?” Tenko reached out, her fingers twisting through her hair, strands catching between her knuckles. She wasn’t even sure why she was doing it—maybe to ground herself, maybe to keep her hands from shaking.

Himiko’s head lowered, and her shoulders sagged. Maybe if she kept her eyes down, Tenko wouldn’t notice how tense she felt. “I don’t know…”

Silence fell and neither of them decided to continue the conversation. Tenko reached out, her hand hesitating midair, nerves buzzing under her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do—if Himiko even wanted it—but before she could pull away, Himiko’s fingers brushed against hers. Slowly, their hands linked together, the warmth of Himiko’s palm steadying the restless beat of Tenko’s heart.

Neither of them said anything as they started walking again.

Tenko and Himiko walked through the graveyard-like city for hours. They walked down empty streets, passed through deserted parks, and even peeked into houses. Every door was unlocked, and every room was empty. Later, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, brushing the sky with soft strokes of gold and rose.

Tenko sighed, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere…”

Himiko yawned, her hand gripping the martial artist’s sleeve as she lagged behind. “Mmm… I’m hungry…”

“We’re all hungry,” she grumbled, but her eyes softened when Himiko rubbed at her eyes sleepily. “Alright, let’s find somewhere to rest. But first, we’ll grab some supplies.”

They stopped by a convenience store, the glass door sliding open with a quiet hiss. The shelves were lined with untouched snacks, chip bags neatly stacked and candy bars resting in perfect rows. The place felt abandoned, preserved in a state of waiting.

Tenko grabbed a plastic basket and immediately started loading it with bottled water, protein bars, and packaged bread. “We don’t know how long we’ll be out here, so we need to be smart about this.”

“Nyeh…” Himiko shuffled toward the candy aisle and grabbed a pack of gummies. “These count as smart, right?”

“Himiko!”

“What? If we’re going to suffer, I’d rather have sugar.”

Tenko sighed, but didn’t argue. She reached for some instant noodles and extra bottled water. Her eyes slid toward her friend who lazily chewed on a gummy, her half-lidded eyes barely focused on anything. Of course Himiko could act this relaxed—she always did, even when things were falling apart. It was frustrating, how little urgency she seemed to have, how she could just shrug things off when Tenko was trying so hard to hold it together.

But… At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Tenko would still stick by her, would still keep them both safe, because it was Himiko.

If Himiko could act like everything was fine, maybe Tenko could believe it too—at least for a little while.

Then her eyes drifted toward the back of the store, where a stack of neatly folded blankets sat on a shelf near the cleaning supplies. “We should take some blankets too,” she said, already grabbing two. “It’s gonna get cold tonight.”

“Mm…” The redhead grabbed a pink fleece one and wrapped it around her shoulders immediately. “Mine.”

Tenko rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Once their arms were full of supplies, they left the store and headed back toward the main street.

“We need to find somewhere safe.” The martial artist’s gaze swept the street until she spotted the entrance to a subway station nearby. “There!”

The subway was colder than Tenko expected. It shouldn’t have been surprising—subways were underground, after all—but with how empty the city had been, she half-expected the air to feel dead in here too. Instead, it was damp, heavy, thick with the scent of dust and rusting metal. Every step she and Himiko took made an awfully loud sound of tapping on the ground, making it painfully obvious how alone they are.

Or at least, how alone they thought they were.

”This should be good enough,” she gestured to a quiet corner near an old map display. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but it was somewhere to sleep.

”Nyeh…” Himiko dragged her blanket behind her like a sleepy child. “As long as it’s not haunted.”

Tenko frowned. “Haunted? Seriously?”

She gave a lazy shrug. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened.”

...Okay, fair point. But ghosts weren’t exactly their biggest problem right now. They needed sleep. They needed warmth. They needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

Tenko was about to set down her things when—

A voice.

No—voices.

Real, human voices.

Not a single voice calling out for help. Not the sound of something distant and unintelligible.

Multiple people. Talking.

She turned to Himiko, heart hammering in her chest like a trapped bird slamming against its cage.. “Did you—?”

The magician nodded before she could even finish. Her drowsiness had vanished in an instant. They both heard it, and that’s when the thoughts started racing.

People. There were people here.

After all this time walking through an empty city, after watching the world suddenly become barren in the span of a single second—

Why now?

Where had they been? Were they lost like Tenko and Himiko? Had they been here the whole time?

Tenko’s brain was at war with itself—part of her screaming to go find them, to demand answers, to finally know something. But the other part? It was telling her to stop.

Because something about this didn’t make sense.

She and Himiko had wandered the city all day. They had searched, called out, walked through streets that should have been crowded with life. If these people were here, if they were survivors, why hadn’t they shown themselves? Why hadn’t Tenko and Himiko heard them earlier?

No footsteps. No signs of movement. Nothing.

And yet, now, deep underground, in the most isolated part of the city—

They weren’t alone.

For a second, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or terrified.

Both of them exchanged a glance, and dropped their supplies right there on the floor, abandoning the blankets and pillows without hesitation. The closer they got, the more their chest clenched, like something inside of them was twisting itself into knots, wringing tight enough to make their ribs creak. Tenko’s mind burned with questions, but they weren’t the kind she could just ignore.

What if these people had answers? What if they knew exactly what was happening? What if they had been watching this whole time—watching them? And what if that wasn’t a good thing? What if they had been waiting, not to help, but for something else? What if this was a mistake—one of those mistakes, the kind that doesn’t give second chances?

Her fingers twitched at her sides. It was too quiet. Had it always been this quiet, or was something listening, waiting for them to speak first? And—think about it—what if they weren’t even people? What if they were something else? Something worse?

What if—

The door ahead was slightly open, just enough to tease at what lay beyond. A sliver of light spilled from within, too thin to reveal anything, but enough to make the shadows around it feel deeper.

Himiko pressed herself against the wall beside it, and peeked through the gap, barely tilting her head, like even the smallest motion might give them away. Tenko held her breath and leaned in beside her. The crack in the door felt impossibly thin, yet just wide enough for something to be looking back.

Then they saw it.

A casino.

Or—no. Not really. But it felt like one. That same air of reckless indulgence, of people throwing themselves into a game where the stakes didn’t seem real. But here, the stakes weren’t money.

A massive security room stretched before them, lined with glowing monitors. Rows and rows of them, stacked high, covering almost every inch of the far wall. It reeked—not of dust or disuse, but of something far worse. Of perfume and blood. Of old leather and fresh rot. Each screen flickered with a different scene, a different story playing out in real-time. But none of them showed the empty city. None showed the abandoned streets or lifeless buildings.

They showed carnage.

A man stumbled through an alleyway, his leg bleeding, his face twisted in terror as he dragged himself forward, barely keeping his balance. The screen beside it showed a woman standing over a corpse, her shoulders shaking, a bloodied pipe clutched so tightly in her trembling hands that her knuckles had gone white. Another screen showed a man pinned to a wall kicking his feet, his mouth was open in a silent scream as a noose tightened around his throat, his body jerking less and less with every passing second.

Both of them couldn’t look, but she couldn’t look away either.

And the people in the room—the ones watching—weren’t horrified. In fact, they were laughing.

Laughter like wet, gurgling breath in a dying throat. Laughter like nails dragging against bone. Some lounged on plush couches, their bodies draped over fabric as if they were royalty gazing down at a festival put on just for them. Others leaned back and sipped from crystal glasses, murmuring bets under their breath as though the lives unfolding before them were nothing more than numbers, statistics on a board. A few sat on the floor, legs crossed, nudging each other and chuckling, whispering like kids sharing gossip about their favorite contestants.

The room stank of something beyond cruelty, beyond sadism. It was detachment. The casual, effortless kind that came when people had long since stopped seeing others as human.

The monitors burned in Tenko’s vision, their sickly light warping the edges of reality, turning the horrors on screen into something more than real—etched into her brain, carved into the marrow of her bones. She felt wrong looking at them, like her very presence was some kind of sin, like if she stared too long, she’d become just another flickering image on the wall, another body gasping for air, another name no one would ever say again.

And then there were the people inside—the ones drinking, gambling, grinning at the spectacle—weren’t human. They couldn’t be. No person with a beating heart, with blood in their veins, could laugh like that while watching someone die. It wasn’t just indifference—it was pleasure, bubbling up in their voices, in the way they leaned forward like children before a puppet show. She wanted to scream. To make them look at her and see something other than their sick little game. To make them feel it. The weight of what they were doing. The weight of what they had already done.

Tenko wanted to throw up. She wanted to grab Himiko’s wrist and run, but her body refused to move. Her mind screamed at her to do something, to stop looking, to breathe, but all she could do was stare, muscles locked, blood pounding so loud she barely noticed the tiny, broken sound that slipped from Himiko’s lips.

THWACK!

The sound cracked against the silence and Himiko jerked violently forward. Her legs gave out, her entire frame crumbling with a helpless, boneless sway. Her fingers twitched at nothing, reaching, grasping—for Tenko?—but her eyes were already fluttering shut, her breath slipping into silence.

The martial artist inhaled sharply. No, no, no! Himiko!!—

THWACK!

Pain slammed through her skull, like a blade carving straight to the core of her thoughts. Her vision snapped sideways, the world pitching into a spiral of disjointed movement—floor, ceiling, wall—before gravity yanked her down. She tried to move—to reach out—to do something, but her limbs were weak. Himiko’s form blurred beside her, the edges of her vision dimming, darkening, swallowing her whole.

Himiko.

Himiko had fallen first.

Himiko had been hurt first.

She had let it happen.

She had been standing right there—right there!—and she had let it happen. What was the point of all her strength? All her training? What was the point of being a fighter, of being Tenko Chabashira, if the one time it actually mattered, she had just stood there and let it happen?

She was supposed to be stronger than this.

She was supposed to protect her.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. She wanted to do something—

But the darkness consumed her before she could try.

******

The moment Tenko's mind stirred back to consciousness, it was flooded with immediate panic. She tried to move, only to feel the biting restraint of something digging into her wrists. Her fingers flexed, but they couldn't move freely. Her legs, too—bound to the chair. And worst of all, something sealed her mouth shut. Her breathing grew frantic as her surroundings became clearer. Himiko was beside her, slumped but awake, her groggy eyes widening in realization.

One moment, they had been in the subway, following that strange noise, staring at those horrific screens—and then…

The door creaked open. A man stepped in, his presence oozing a smug sort of confidence. He had long blue hair that fell lazily over his shoulders, and his right arm was wrapped in a cast.

”Well, well, look who’s awake,” he drawled, leaning against a table. “I gotta say, I’m impressed. Two girls sneaking into our little paradise? Either you’re extremely lucky or unbelievably stupid. Maybe both.”

Tenko clenched her fists. Who was this guy? What was he talking about?

The man chuckled at their silence—or rather, their inability to respond. “Oh, right. The tape. Don't worry, we'll get to that.” He crossed his arms, his tone turning casual, as if they were just chatting over coffee. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering where you are and what’s going on. So let me introduce myself—I’m Haiji Towa. And you, my dear accidental intruders, have found yourselves in the Borderlands.”

Borderlands? The word felt foreign, unfamiliar. Himiko's eyes flickered with confusion, and Tenko could practically hear her muffled, “Nyeh?” through the duct tape.

Haiji sighed, pushing himself off the table. “Let’s break it down. The world you once knew is gone. Replaced by this lovely little dystopia where survival is a gamble. And the people in this country? They fall into two categories: players and dealers.”

Players? Dealers? Tenko's thoughts raced, recalling the screens they had seen before. People running. People hiding. People…dying.

”Those people you saw on the monitors? They’re the tenants of the Borderlands—the players. They have one goal: survive the games. And for us, we’re the ones who set those games up. We’re the dealers.”

Tenko’s stomach coiled in on itself suffocatingly, like a fist clenching around her insides. He was saying this so casually, like it was a simple transaction.

The man took a few steps forward. “Now, here’s where things get really fun. Players need what we call a visa, or as we like to nickname them—Truth Bullets. If their Truth Bullets run out, well, a nice little laser from the sky takes care of them. Boom. Gone.”

Himiko flinched, barely more than a twitch, but Tenko felt it like a shock to the spine. Her breathing sharpened, cutting in and out of her lungs too fast.

”That rule applies to us too, of course,” Haiji continued with a smirk. “Players extend their stay by clearing games. Dealers extend theirs by making sure those games end in, let’s say, an entertaining fashion. We orchestrate, we supervise, and if the players win? Well, the dealer in charge of that game is void. Which means—” he dragged his thumb across his neck, “—game over for them.”

Tenko felt her blood run cold. She and Himiko weren’t players. That meant—

”Hm…” Haiji glanced at a clipboard with an unreadable expression on his face. “Looks like you two run out of Truth Bullets tonight. Which means we’ll be putting you straight to work. Lucky you! You’ll be supervising tonight’s game.”

Tenko thrashed, her muscles burning, her wrists raw against the rope. A muffled, furious scream tore from her throat, but it barely filled the space between them. Haiji didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look surprised. He only chuckled lowly, lazily, and amusedly. Like he was watching a caged animal exhaust itself.

”Oh, and what a game it is—” he tapped the clipboard. “A Ten of Clubs. High difficulty. High casualties. Most likely, no players will survive. Pretty convenient for your first job, huh?”

The martial artist writhed against the chair, rage clawing up her throat. He was sitting there, so casually, talking about people's lives like they were nothing more than objects to be tossed around, discarded at will. It made her sick to her stomach—how could someone be so callous? How could he look at all of this pain, this destruction, and treat it like some twisted game?

Haiji sighed heavily. “Fine, fine, let’s hear you out.” He strolled over and ripped the duct tape from Tenko’s mouth.

”You—!” she gasped for air before launching into a tirade. “We’re not going to do this! You can’t just force us to—!”

“Oh, but we can,” he cut in smoothly. “You want to live, don’t you? Your visas are expiring. Refusing isn’t an option.”

Himiko made a muffled noise, a soft, desperate sound that barely reached Tenko’s ears. Haiji, looking more entertained than anything, casually peeled the tape off her mouth.

She coughed. “Nyeh… This is a joke, right? We don’t… We’re not going to kill anyone.”

”That’s exactly right!” Haiji grinned. “Good news, you’re not killing anyone directly. You just oversee the game. Whether they live or die? That’s up to them.”

Tenko hesitated, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. What other choice did they have? “I don’t like this...but I’ll do it,” she muttered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “I still won’t be happy about it.”

Haiji shrugged. “That’s fine. You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.” He moved behind them, undoing their restraints, surprisingly with no struggle with just one hand. “Now, let’s get you to your stations. A friend of mine will escort you.”

The second Tenko was free, she surged forward, instinctively positioning herself between Haiji and Himiko. Her body coiled with tension, every muscle primed to fight, to protect, to do what she had failed to do before. every muscle primed to fight, to protect. She shot a fierce, defiant glare at Haiji, daring him to make a move. But he didn’t seem dazed in the slightest. It looked like he didn’t even notice the threat in her posture, simply staring at her like he was watching a child play at being a hero.

Just as they were inching toward the door, Haiji clicked his tongue. “Oh, one last thing.”

And they both froze.

”You’re welcome to interact with players during the day, but the existence of dealers must NEVER be uttered. That includes talking, writing, even Morse code.” He tilted his head. “Slip up, and let’s just say… The Borderlands will know.”

Himiko swallowed a lump in her throat. “Nyeh… So we just watch the players? What about us? Is someone watching over us?”

”Maybe they’re being recorded; our brainwaves,” he said. “If you even think about leaking the secret, well…” He mimicked a gun with his fingers and pointed at his head. “Zap. You’re out.”

Himiko and Tenko exchanged an uneasy glance.

******

After their Ten of Clubs game, Tenko and Himiko sat in the same spot where they had originally planned to sleep in the subway, before everything changed. Tenko pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them as if trying to make herself smaller. Himiko sat beside her, unusually alert. For once, she wasn’t leaning on Tenko out of exhaustion or laziness—she leaned on her out of something else. Maybe for comfort. Maybe to give comfort. Tenko didn’t know. All she knew was that she felt sick. Heavy. Suffocated by something she couldn’t even see.

“...A lot of people died.” Tenko’s voice was small, almost lost in the vast emptiness of the subway. “Seven of them. There was even a girl about our age…” She shut her eyes, but all she saw were flashes of those final moments—pleading screams, blood splattering against concrete, the vacant stares of bodies discarded like trash. “All because of us.”

Himiko, normally so passive, suddenly lifted her head, eyes sharp with something Tenko wasn’t used to seeing in her—anger. Watching people die had jolted her awake in a way no amount of sleep could fix. “Are you saying we killed them? Don’t you dare!”

Tenko lifted her head, her face pale, almost lifeless. Without a word, she pulled out the phone the dealers had given them, her fingers trembling. The screen glowed in the dark, displaying a single, damning number—

Seven days. One day for each life lost.

Her grip on the phone tightened, her breath shaking as she forced herself to speak. “What about these Truth Bullets?! We got one for killing those seven people. Isn’t this proof? Am I wrong?!”

Himiko flinched.

She had seen Tenko angry before—passionate, loud, indignant—but this wasn’t the same. It wasn’t righteous fury, but brokenness. This was something fragile shattering into pieces. And it was terrifying. For the first time, Himiko had no idea what to say. Tenko had always been strong. Even when she was annoying, even when she was too much, she was still strong. She had a heart that burned with conviction, a will that didn’t break no matter what. Seeing her like this—shaking, on the verge of falling apart—made something ache deep in Himiko’s chest.

Tenko’s voice cracked, quieter now. “I just...can’t take this.”

Himiko had always run from responsibility. From effort. From things that made her heart race in discomfort. But this—this wasn’t something she could run from. It clung to her, suffocating, pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe. And she hated it. She hated feeling this way. She hated this place. And most of all, she hated the way Tenko looked right now—like all the fight had been drained out of her.

“…Tenko,” she finally whispered. She reached out, hesitating for just a moment, before pulling Tenko into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her. The martial artist didn’t react at first, her body still tense and shaking slightly from anger and grief. But Himiko held on tighter, burying her face into Tenko’s shoulder. “Tenko… This is all just a bad dream.” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to keep going. “It’ll be okay. Some day, you’ll surely wake up from this dream.”

Her words weren’t just for Tenko. They were for herself too. Because if she didn’t believe that—if she didn’t believe there was an end to all of this—then she wasn’t sure she could survive it either.

******

It had been two and a half weeks since Tenko and Himiko became dealers.

Life had been hell.

There was no sugarcoating it. Every day was a slow descent into something they could barely recognize. They hated it—every minute of it. Every smile they forced was a lie, every word they spoke was a chain that tethered them to the world they now had no choice but to endure.

Every time Himiko shut her eyes, she saw their faces—twisted in desperation, in rage, in grief. The screams echoed in her head even when the room around her was silent. But she knew Tenko had it worse. Tenko, who always believed in protecting others, who fought for justice, who never let harm come to someone if she could help it. Now she was stuck watching people die, knowing her own existence ensured their suffering.

The meeting was routine at first—just another gathering of the unwilling. Dealers stood around, listening for their next orders like prisoners awaiting sentencing.

”Mark of the City?”

“We’ve identified a large band of players,” Haiji announced, clearing his throat. “Orders from above say that the mall they're at should be turned into a venue to execute a large-scale game there. For the important details—the game is called ‘Witch Hunt.’ Difficulty of Hearts.”

“This time is a bit irregular,” he continued, scanning the gathered dealers. “It will be first come, first served for the two people in charge we are recruiting.”

Before Himiko could fully process what was happening, the others began to jump at the chance. Random shouts filled the room, voices eager to volunteer for the opportunity.

“This is a huge chance to boost my Truth Bullets!” one man declared.

“This is some juicy news!” another added with a grin.

“I’ll volunteer!” a girl called out.

“Me!” someone else chimed in.

“Me too!”

Both of them couldn’t help but feel nauseous at their enthusiasm. Their willingness to embrace the death games was sickening. Did they even realize what they were signing up for? Did they care?

But when Haiji spoke again, his words chilled her to the core.

“One of the two supervising dealers will impale themselves with a knife through the heart to start the game. The witch will be the first casualty. For everyone to kill each other in search of a non-existent witch is the aim of this game. If no dealer can be determined to take the role of the witch, our branch will be the first to be dismantled.”

The murmurs started again, crawling through the air like rats skittering in the dark. Tenko felt the decision settle in her chest, as if a dead weight had been shoved inside her ribs, pressing down until each breath felt sharp and painful.

Suddenly, she raised her hand, her fingers twitching like they were trying to escape her grasp. It hovered in the air, suspended in a moment that stretched far too long, like a bad joke that had gone on far too many awkward seconds.

“May Himiko and I volunteer?” She said, “I don’t mind taking the role of the witch.”

Himiko froze, her wide eyes locking with Tenko’s, the shock evident on her face. “Wai—Tenko?!”

Haiji’s gaze flickered briefly over her. “Fine,” he replied, his tone indifferent. “Both of you still have 12 Truth Bullets left. This will be the time allotted to prepare for the witch hunt.”

Notes:

I thought I could fit the entire thing of them together in one chapter………guess not😭 Other half will be continued in 6.10. Why is Ten of Hearts so long bro💔

Haiji also might've been a bit ooc here...but I don't really like him that much so I'll leave it that way🙏

Random, but a story I have in mind currently is a Danganronpa apocalypse kinda thing. I so desperately wanna make it but I don't have everything planned out yet, like the chronological order of who dies, the fight scenes, and I don't know THH and DR2 cast that well.....😔 I'm debating whether to do it or not because I'm not even finished with this story, but you know...we'll see!!!

Chapter 26: Ten of Hearts 6.10

Summary:

One man deserves the credit, and one man deserves the blame. The outcome was inevitable—success had its price, and failure was its own burden, for this is no schizophrenic dream.

Notes:

“One man deserves the credit, one man deserves the blame”—is a lyric from Tom Lehrer’s song: ‘Lobachevsky’! “This is no schizophrenic dream”—is a lyric from Trickle’s song: ‘ReReReRegulus’!

________________________________

The next day, the sky hung low and heavy over the Mark of the City. The two dealers sat on a worn bench a little away from the growing crowd. Himiko swung her feet lightly off the edge of the bench, hugging her knees to her chest. She kept her eyes on the concrete, on the gum stains and old cigarette butts.

“Tenko…” she mumbled, barely lifting her head. “It’s about time you tell me. Why did you volunteer us so haphazardly?” She looked up, a faint pout tugging at her lips. “If you don’t… I’ll put a curse on you. With my magic.” Her voice tried to sound teasing, like the old days.

Tenko didn’t answer at first. Then she said, softly, “Thirty-two.”

Himiko blinked. “Nyeh?”

“That’s the number of people we’ve killed so far in the games.” Her gaze dropped to the ground below, her eyelids lowering with the weight of it. “If we let everyone at the Mark of the City end in a game over…that’s probably more than a hundred in total. You might be able to leave this island then, right? If enough people die.”

“Tenko…” she sighed, her heart sinking through her ribs like a stone dropped in molasses.

“…But, you know,” she continued, “I might be wishing for that not to happen.”

Himiko turned, her brow furrowing like a crumpled napkin. “Huh?”

“In this place, every night… The unknowing players and the knowing dealers kill each other without any reason. We’ve all just accepted it. And I…” She slouched forward slightly, breath shuddering. “I can’t take much longer living with myself as a dealer.”

Tenko glanced around the area—at the players milling about. “In order to live, we just pray for the death of the players,” she said. “That’s all we can do. And over time, death itself becomes meaningless. The dealers’ eyes go…empty. Dirty. Their souls rot. They stop being human. It’s far worse than a degenerate male.”

“Can you really call that living?” She looked down at her hands, fingers trembling slightly as she wrung them together. “Can you call it being?”

There was a long pause. Then she continued softly.

“If…and it’s a big if…if this game doesn’t go the way the dealers want—what if the players at the Mark of the City actually talk to each other? What if they start thinking clearly, rationally? What if they figure out that I’m the witch and burn me like the rules say?” She smiled, bitter and small. “If that happened, no more players would have to die. We could end it here. Maybe…maybe we could end this whole nightmare.”

Tenko’s hands stilled in her lap, and she stared ahead at nothing. “There wouldn’t be a bloodbath. Just an end. A quiet, clean end. And if I have to be the witch for that to happen…” She gave a soft, almost peaceful sigh. “Then I’ll take that role. Happily.”

“…All of that,” Himiko exhaled, “is just escapism.” She looked up at her with tired eyes. “And that’s coming from me.”

******

They stood quietly near the entrance of a small, half-hidden store tucked beneath a rusted awning. There were only two days left before the inevitable witch hunt. Suddenly, Tenko raised her hands in front of her chest, miming the weight of an invisible knife. Her fingers curled around air, trembling slightly. She looked like she was trying to convince herself it was real—trying to rehearse for something she hoped would never come.

“Stab the heart with the knife…” she whispered under her breath. “Stab the heart with the knife…”

Her hands twitched. She looked ready to cry.

Himiko watched her silently. They’d both made a promise, decided they’d go through with this insanity, but now it felt like a choice that would swallow them whole. She bit her lip, unable to look away from Tenko’s trembling hands. Is it really possible for them to get through this?

“I don’t think I can do it,” she admitted suddenly. “I thought I could, but now…”

They’d fought, screamed, and cried—all just to land on this decision. She exhaled deeply, trying to muster any courage she had left. Her voice was firmer than she intended. “Nyeh… We decided already, didn’t we? If you can’t do it, then I will.” This wasn’t just about them anymore—people’s lives are at stake. “In either case, many will die!”

Before either of them could speak again, a voice called out suddenly.

“Hey, excuse me! Do you guys mind if I ask you something?”

The words were startling, so unexpected that both Himiko and Tenko froze in place. Their hearts skipped a beat as they turned in unison, eyes wide, pupils dilated. It was a man with navy hair, golden eyes, and simple clothes. Tenko’s instinct was immediate. Without a word, her hand shot out, grabbing Himiko’s wrist with startling force. She didn’t even think, just acted on pure instinct. Her feet moved almost faster than her mind, and they dashed off without looking back, desperate to put as much distance between them and the stranger as possible.

Behind them, the voice came again, more confused than threatening. “Wait—I’m not trying to hit on you!”

******

”Emergency! Look at this!”

Midnight. The kind of hour where things rot in silence. Inside the dealers’ control room, the people who stood watched the monitors. They didn’t blink much. They barely breathed. Just eyes—glued to the feeds—watching, waiting, maybe even dreading. On screen, Junko Enoshima slumped to the ground after being shot by the one and only, Mukuro Ikusoba.

“She…she shot Junko,” someone whispered, like saying it aloud made it real.

“The equilibrium of the Mark of the City is broken!”

“This is bad! At this rate, the witch hunt might fail!”

”Shut it—send a message to HQ, now! Update the rating—the Witch Hunt difficulty has been changed from a Five of Hearts to a Ten of Hearts!”

The dealers moved frantically, with their fingers trembling on keys, and their eyes darting between monitors and each other. The game—their perfect little game—was about to crumble like a house of cards.

Then came the voice from the back.

“Hmm… Looks like Mukuro has chosen her side.”

They all turned to the woman who hadn’t moved. She watched the screen with her legs crossed and her head tilted slightly, as if she were sipping tea in a museum, quietly analyzing brush strokes instead of blood. She looked at the screen the way a god watches their creation crumble—patient and hungry. If evil had a face, it would wear that same soft smile. If the devil sat among them, she would sit just like that. Serene, amused, and utterly, terrifyingly pleased.

“She’s made herself the ultimate guardian of our witch. Not just a protector—an executioner.”

Someone swallowed. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It plainly is,” she replied, smiling faintly. “You’re all forgetting what this means. If the players panic, if they kill each other, if this ‘game’ goes completely out of control…” Her fingers tapped idly against her armrest. “They lose.”

“And if they lose,” she continued, voice syrup-slow, “we live. We don’t need the players to win. We just need them to kill.”

What had been the terror of the unknown became an unsettling relief, a sick satisfaction in their own survival. The expression on everyone’s faces shifted. Suddenly, the terror felt distant, almost…useless.

“They’ll tear each other apart,” one mumbled. “Paranoia, violence, collapse...”

“And we’ll be spared,” another whispered, stunned, as a smile grew on their face.

“Let Mukuro burn the whole building if she wants,” the woman said. “She’s done us a favor.”

******

The hour was drawing near—the moment they’d both dreaded but knew was inevitable. Himiko and Tenko stood side by side inside the main lobby of the Mark of the City. It was almost time. Time for the witch hunt to begin, and for Tenko to face the inevitable end. Himiko felt her heart weigh more than her brain. She glanced at her friend, her eyes softening with something that went deeper than friendship. Tenko, standing so strong and resolute, was everything Himiko admired.

“Nyeh…” Himiko’s voice broke the silence as she stared out into the emptiness of the lobby. She knew that it was all coming to an end. They had both accepted that fact a long time ago. “We’ve researched that no one passes through the lobby around this time…”

Tenko, sensing the doubt, turned to Himiko. Her features relaxed, and she moved forward, placing herself between the words and the girl they were meant to cut. “Himiko, once you’ve confirmed that the witch hunt has begun…go. Escape through the dealer’s exclusive passageway in the basement. Promise me. Please.”

Her words were simple, just a clear instruction meant to ensure Himiko’s safety. But something about the way she said it—like she'd rehearsed it a hundred times in her head—made Himiko’s heart twist painfully. Tenko wasn’t just telling her to run. She was begging her.

She leaned in slowly, almost like she wasn’t sure she should, until her arms found their place around Himiko’s small frame. The hug was quiet—no dramatic gestures, no words exchanged—but it didn’t end when it should have. Tenko’s hands stayed where they were, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of Himiko’s sleeves, her cheek resting just a little too long against her head. somehow both knew that speaking would unravel the moment. It wasn’t something they had ever discussed. It didn’t need to be.

“It’s…time for us to part ways, huh?” Tenko whispered to her. “If anyone spots us together, you’ll be the biggest suspect. We can’t risk it.”

Himiko looked up, searching Tenko’s face. She hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides as if the words were caught in her throat. “Tenko, I’ve…decided.”

Tenko blinked. “Eh?”

“I’m going to participate in the witch hunt. As a player.” Her eyes, usually so tired and half-lidded, were sharp now. Awake and about. “Until the very end of the time limit, I’ll be there!”

“Himiko?! That’s—!”

“You’re risking your life for something you so desperately believe in, right? So I’ll watch over your desire, too. I want to see it through.”

Silence swallowed them down the throat.

“If this were any other world,” Tenko murmured, her hand gently brushing over Himiko’s arm, a touch so soft it felt like the first ray of sunshine after a long storm. Her voice was quiet, barely like the Tenko any close person knew, as if she were sharing a secret with the stars themselves. “I’d tell you everything. Every little thing.”

She didn’t need Tenko to elaborate. She understood, somehow. “I know,” she said. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a quiet breath escaping her lips. “Maybe…in another universe, I’d be able to say the same.”

There was no response to that. No further words, no promises, no chance to change anything. They both knew that in the world they lived in, there was no room for such feelings.

Then, one moment they were hugging, and the next thing they knew was that someone so brave and strong was lying on the floor like a coward.

The crowd was suffocating. Himiko’s body froze, her eyes flickering between their angry and afraid faces. They were surrounding her, the same people she’d fought beside now screaming at her, calling her a witch.

“You. You’re always with her. Why weren’t you with her today?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You weren’t. What happened? Did you fight?”

“Th-Then you’re the witch!”

The crowd closed in like a swarm of insects. Her heart pounded in her chest as their faces twisted together, no longer individuals but a mass of hungry, faceless mouths. It didn’t make sense. Why were they acting this way? Why weren’t they thinking? How could they be so trigger-happy to wreak havoc? The very people she had believed in, now shouted at her like she was the enemy.

Himiko couldn’t move or breathe. The words clawed at her like diseased fingernails, every accusation becoming a festering wound that bled into her thoughts. Was this really happening? Was this what it had come to? She couldn’t believe that Tenko, who had fought so hard for hope, had been so wrong. Had Tenko believed in these players until the very end? Had she given up her life for nothing? These people failed her friend, and now they were going to burn her alive for the very thing she had been trying to protect: hope.

The dealers were completely correct at how they expected the witch hunt would go. Stir the panic, throw them into confusion, and watch them tear each other apart. How had they managed to manipulate the situation so perfectly? These people were too blinded by fear and rage to see the strings being pulled by the puppeteers.

The anger burned in Himiko’s chest upon realization. Never in her life had she felt so much rage. She wanted to scream, to destroy everything around her. She wanted to let them all burn, to just end it in a game over and return to the old world. It would be easier that way, wouldn’t it? It seemed like there was no hope left for anyone. People were so eager to kill, so desperate to see others die. Wasn’t that all they wanted in the end? The selfishness, the greed. The bloodthirst.

But then, a memory sliced through her thoughts. Shuichi.

She thought back to the hell he had endured since arriving at the Mark of the City—she hadn’t seen them for herself, but rumors were surely spreading. The way he had been beaten, bound and left to rot in that room. The way he had fought, still fighting for an end to the madness. And then, Mukuro. That monster had pummeled him, relentlessly pushing him to the brink. But through it all, Shuichi had never stopped fighting. He kept going, even when everything seemed lost. Even when the world told him to give up.

How?

How could he still hold onto hope in a world as broken as this one? How could he still believe in the possibility of a solution, a way out where no one had to die? Wasn’t everything about this world—this game—meant to crush that hope?

How can you still fight, Shuichi? Himiko wondered. How can you still believe in this?

Is there still hope in players, after all? But it felt so far out of reach… It seemed impossible, yet something in her wanted to believe. Shuichi had shown her something that she hadn’t seen in so long. But what was the point of hope, when everything was slipping through their fingers? Her mind screamed at her to run. To leave Shuichi and Makoto behind and disappear into the crowd, to escape this madness by herself. To leave everything behind and forget it all. But her body wouldn’t listen, and her feet were rooted to the spot.

This isn’t just anger. This is...

It wasn’t grief, not exactly. It wasn’t that kind of pain. It was something else. Something deeper. Himiko had never been good at facing her own feelings. So, she’d always found a way to bury them. Magic had been her way of dealing with the pain. A way to keep the world at arm’s length, a way to pretend she had control over something, anything.

Problem is—magic isn’t real. It was fake.

She had known that for a long time. It had been her way of coping, her way of convincing herself that there was still something she could do to fix the world. But now, magic couldn’t save her. It couldn’t bring Tenko or the many others who died back. She had spent so long hiding behind the illusion of control, believing that if she just worked hard enough at her magic, she could make things better. But belief, hope, magic—they weren’t enough to save anyone.

The truth was, she had never been a magician. She had always been a scared little girl clinging to the idea that she could make the world kinder if she just believed hard enough.

Himiko bit her lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. Shuichi’s words repeated in her mind: “It might be that…there really was a way to end the game…without having to kill everyone. A solution where…nobody has to get hurt, and no one has to die.” But that path was crumbling beneath her feet.

If magic isn’t real…then maybe this is the only trick I have left.

...

”I am a dealer of this game!”

Her small form seemed to collapse in slow motion. Her knees buckled first, and she stumbled, her hands reaching out to catch herself but finding nothing but air. She’d probably reach for Tenko if she were here, but sadly, no. Her head dropped, red hair falling over her face, and her once bright eyes—so full of magic and hope—stared blankly at the floor beneath her. The last of her energy faded, and the world grew distant, as if everything had been pulled further away.

And there, on the cold floor, Himiko’s world went dark.

Silence fell in the wake of her death, it felt like an unfinished performance, cut short, leaving the audience to stare in stunned disbelief. The stage was still, the actors frozen in place, their lines lost to the ether.

Then, out of nowhere, Kyoko appeared. Her entrance was almost ghostly, her body swaying slightly as she was supported by Maki and Miu, both of them holding her up carefully. Kyoko's face was a mask of exhaustion, a bloody wound on her head staining her lavender hair. In her hand, she gripped Tenko’s murder weapon. A knife, the blade wrapped in tissue to protect anyone from the prints that would be revealed upon closer inspection.

”It was a reverse grip,” she stated, lifting the item into the air for show. “Fingerprints with a reverse grip were found on the knife. This means...the victim grabbed the knife herself, and stabbed it through her own chest.” Her eyes turned slowly to Tenko, her words solidifying the truth. “She’s the witch.”

It felt like the floor beneath them had cracked, sending tremors through their hearts. A random girl in the crowd finally broke the stillness with a hesitant voice, “Why would she…kill herself for a game? Was Tenko really the mastermind…?”

A random man gestured to the lifeless form of Himiko. “That girl also said she’s a dealer.” He looked down, his voice filled with a creeping horror. “So were we just being toyed with by them?”

Makoto, sitting beside a battered and bloodied Shuichi, replied quietly. “But she’s human, just like the rest of us.”

Another voice spoke up. “The two of them… They might have been controlled by someone else too,” a random girl suggested.

Shuichi, who had been gasping for breath, his body wracked with pain, finally uttered something. “Mukuro,” the girl turned to him, but he could hardly hold his head up. “Let’s just stop this. Don’t let…the deaths of the innocent go to waste.”

Slowly, he pushed himself upright, his body shaking with the effort. “I understand what it feels like to kill your loved ones. But we shouldn’t take our frustration out on those who are still alive!” His voice got louder, like the room was shrinking. “We are still alive! We’re all facing despair head-on and fighting until the end!”

He stood up fully, and shouted, ”We shouldn’t underestimate the living!!!”

His scream tore through the air, but it didn't hang around. Oh no, it was swallowed up, the sound quickly consumed by an emptiness so thick, it felt like the room itself was squeezing out any trace of life. It wasn’t just loud—it was monstrous, the kind of sound that made your stomach twist, like the screech of metal scraping against bone. For a moment, it didn’t even sound human—just raw, primal, like a beast in the throes of its death rattle. The scream felt like it had been building for ages, a pressure that had been waiting to burst, to splatter across everything.

The silence didn’t last long—not that it ever does. Someone turned their head, maybe just to scratch their neck or look for a way out, but then they saw the fire. Crawling along the floor like it had a mind of its own, licking up the walls, hungrily eating its way forward.

“The fire is spreading!” A man shouted. “Run!”

Screams tore through the room like knives, people stumbling over each other, the panic so sudden and feral it barely felt human.

Maki, still supporting the wobbly Kyoko, turned sharply. “What the hell are you all waiting for? Move the body to the Fire of Judgement! Hurry up!”

The crowd hesitated for a moment, unsure, but then they began to approach Tenko’s lifeless body to carry her, intent on fulfilling Maki’s order and surviving this game. But just as they neared, a sound came—something slicing through the air, not like wind or a whistle, but like a scream in metal form. Razor-sharp scissors, glinting in the firelight, came flying through the smoke like angry wasps. One buried itself in the side of someone’s head with a thunk. Another followed, and another after that.

The room fell into a more frenzied party, people screaming and scrambling over each other like rats in a flooding cage. Then—through the smoke and fire—came a figure. Stumbling at first. Then straightening.

”KYAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Syo laughed maniacally. “That hurt so bad, y’know! Where’s the bastard who left me to die, hm? You know what, never mind. Fire’s not really my thing, but I feel like burning something today!”

She stepped forward, coming more into view. She was half-burnt and half-grinning. Her clothes were torn, flesh blackened in patches, as if she’d clawed her way out of hell just to return the favor. Her long violet hair, once silky and pristine, was hacked unevenly. In her right hand, her signature scissors gleamed, their blades reflecting the light of the torch she gripped in her other hand.

Suddenly, Syo tossed the torch into the lobby without hesitation. Within moments, the room became an inferno—the fire leaping greedily and hungrily. Syo charged forward without a second thought, scissors clutched in her hand. She swung her arms gleefully, slashing at anyone who was near her radius, even hurling her scissors towards the crowd.

The lobby became a madhouse. Panic ran rampant as individuals collided, like a herd of terrified animals trapped in a slaughterhouse. The fire had taken on a life of its own, the heat searing and choking, but Syo barely seemed to notice. Blood splattered the floor, dripping from wounds inflicted by the merciless barrage of scissors.

Maki grunted as she stood, still supporting Kyoko. Her gaze locked on Syo, and without another word, she suddenly broke away, sprinting through the carnage. She used a pile of bodies as a ramp, launching herself into the air, aiming to tackle Syo. At the same time, Shuichi, with every ounce of energy he had left, pushed himself to his feet and ran toward Syo. He lunged, grabbing at her arm, trying to disarm her, but Syo was quick—too quick. She turned on him, smacking him in the back with a powerful fist and sending him crashing to the floor. She spun swiftly, slamming Maki’s body into Shuichi, sending both of them sprawling.

She grinned down at Shuichi. “I’ve never been so trigger-happy in all my life ever!”

Her hand shot out, grabbing another pair of scissors, and hurled them at Shuichi. Just as the scissors flew through the air, another hand appeared—Mukuro’s. In one quick motion, she caught the blades out of the air and tossed them to the side. But Syo continued to hurl more of her scissors, but everytime, Mukuro would either dodge them or catch them in her hands and throw them away like they were nothing.

In an instant, Mukuro charged toward Syo, grabbing her by the waist and ran straight toward the fire. The two figures merged, swallowed by the smoke and rising flames, vanishing from view. Shuichi, still on the ground, stared in stunned silence, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened.

”THREE MINUTES REMAINING.”

Miu cursed, “Fuck! There’s no time!” She rushed to Maki’s side, instinctively helping her up.

The others shakily gathered around Tenko’s body, each of them lifting her carefully. Once they had made it out of the building, they paused at the edge of the fire, then gently dropped her onto the pile. The flames consumed her body within moments. The world around them seemed to slow as they stepped back, watching the fire do what was left of the game.

As they watched the flames erupt higher, Shuichi stood still. He wondered why Tenko had to throw her life away…but no answer came. Maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe he would never understand. But he was sure that she too was fighting the world’s irrationality. She fought more than enough, and for that, may she rest in peace.

Then Kyoko’s registration phone buzzed:

”GAME CLEAR.”
”CONGRATULATIONS.”

Congratulations. After all of this. As if anything could be congratulated…

The fire crackled on, eating the building and all it represented. The survivors, standing at a safe distance, watched in silence as the flames climbed higher. The building was nothing now. But the memories? They would stay with them forever.

”Everyone died…” Makoto whispered it as if saying it aloud would make it real, would make it hurt less. But it didn’t. He crumpled to his knees, defeated.

Maki’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the group of people standing beside Makoto. They were the same ones who had been involved in the senseless killings from the start. It was almost laughable, really—she, an assassin, of all people, getting angry at others murdering others. They didn’t even do it because of strategy or revenge. Just plain, blind violence and unthinking slaughter. And she hated that. With every fiber of her being.

”Slimy little fuckers…” She began to march toward them. But Miu’s hand shot out faster than Maki could react, grabbing her wrist.

”Hey! Chill the fuck out, will ya? Don’t stoop further into their level, you psycho.”

Maki jerked her wrist back, ready to break free. “They deserve it! They’re the ones who—”

”You sound like a shitty hypocrite!” she scoffed, “What, you wanna take it out on them? Huh? Like some stupid wild animal? We’re not savages, alright?!”

“...You really think we can just let them walk away after everything?”

”I mean, we let a dog like you walk free.” Miu shrugged, then quickly backpedaled when Maki glared at her. “Heeee! I- I mean we survive and leave them in the dust! Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing us fall! And move on! Th- That’s how we win, you dumbass…!”

There was a long pause as Maki stood there, her fists tightly clenched. Despite Miu speaking like a nervous lowlife, her words had reached her. Before she could speak again, her attention snapped to the man in the group who was now kneeling down with a revolver in his hand, aimed at his chin. His fingers hovered over the trigger, testing whether he deserved to live or not.

Some who noticed turned in shock, and Shuichi’s eyes widened. “Wait—! No! He extended his arm out, too weak to rush forward. “W- We’ve been through hell, but we can’t let it end like this. We have to keep going! We’re still here—don’t waste that. Don’t waste your life.”

The man’s fingers trembled on the gun, but he didn’t lower it. Shuichi could see the momentary hesitation in his eyes. He wanted to scream, to shake him, to make him understand, but instead, he found himself swaying, his body trembling with exhaustion. The dizziness was intense—like the room was spinning around him. He didn’t even see the man drop the gun on the ground with a thud.

Why…why am I so tired? He blinked hard, but it didn’t make the world around him stop spinning. His muscles felt sore, like he’d been running non-stop for days. His vision was blurring, the faces around him shifting in and out of focus. Focus, Shuichi. Focus. But it was so hard. His legs felt like they were made of jelly, and the ground seemed to lurch underneatg him, threatening to swallow him whole.

His gaze went to the ground, what if he just fell asleep right then and there? His eyes fluttered open, but everything was moving too fast. The faces, the voices—they were all so far away, like he was watching everything happen through a glass wall. He fought to stay upright, but his knees buckled, and he stumbled forward.

”Ah! Shuichi!”

He didn’t notice standing up and running to him. And in that moment, Shuichi surrendered to exhaustion, letting Makoto catch him as he finally allowed himself to sleep—sleep that felt like a long-deserved break.

*********************************************

The heat of the fire clung to the air and smoke started swirling in lazy spirals, but Korekiyo could only feel calm. Sitting against a crumbling pillar, his back resting against the cold stone, he felt stillness take over him. Perhaps this is what true freedom feels like. The flames around him were no threat. In fact, they were a welcome embrace. A world burning, and I, the lone observer. His breathing slowed, his thoughts quieting. He could feel the connection to the universe, as though he was becoming one with the flames, the air, the earth beneath him. What is freedom, if not the ability to choose your own end?

Then, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, breaking his reverie. He glanced up, unphased, to find the familiar figure of Kokichi standing in front of him. He tilted his head slightly, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Korky! Hi!” Kokichi waved energetically, but stood at a safe distance, as if respecting the space Korekiyo had claimed for himself.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be outside, living, with the others?”

He hummed, as though genuinely thinking about it. Then he shrugged, “Hmm, I would, but I need to look for something.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “What about you? Don’t you wanna live, too? Why are you still here?”

”Why should I leave, Kokichi?” Korekiyo leaned back against the pillar. “Life is a series of constraints, and in these last moments, I feel freer than I have ever been. These flames represent everything that ties us down. The expectations, the roles we must play. But in the midst of it all, there is a strange beauty. This place…this burning madness...it is the most genuine expression of freedom I’ve ever known. There are no rules here, no boundaries. No one tells me what I am, or what I must be. The fire nor the smoke doesn’t care. Everything is so raw, so real. I feel no need to escape it, because in this moment, I’ve found peace. To let go of everything—there is nothing more liberating.”

“Woah, Korky, that’s some deep stuff you’ve got there!” Kokichi bounced on his feet, clearly unfazed. “But I get it! Sometimes... you just gotta let go, right? But hey, don’t go getting all philosophical on me. You might be right, though. Maybe it’s better this way. I dunno, I guess I don’t really have time to figure it out.”

He chuckled softly underneath his mask, glancing at the flames. “Indeed. There is little time for much of anything now.”

They sat in silence briefly—Korekiyo tilting his head up as if feeling the sense of freedom in the air and Kokichi standing there as he surveyed the whole scene. Kokichi looked up at the ceiling as well as him, then broke the silence.

“Korky, do you know the original meaning of the word ‘utopia’? The English philosopher, Thomas More, created this word with intense irony in mind. In Greek, it means ‘a place that does not exist.’” He glanced at the flames, his voice becoming bitter as he continued. “Maybe this is for the best. A paradise…is not something man should be able to create.”

Korekiyo’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Kokichi’s words. For a moment, he seemed to consider the gravity of them. “That is very insightful of you, Kokichi.”

He lifted his arms behind his hand, smiling. “Nishishi! Yeah, well...I guess it’s a little too deep for me sometimes. You know what they say—when everything burns, it’s only the ashes left behind that matter. I guess that’s freedom for you.” Then, he waved his hand to bid him adieu. “It’s been fun, though! I gotta go find my thing. Stay free, okay? If you end up burning to a crisp, I’m sure you’ll be at peace with it, right? Bye-bye!”

Without waiting for a response, Kokichi spun on his heel and began walking into the thickening smoke. His figure became more and more obscured by the fire, disappearing into the blinding light and heat, as if he were walking deeper into the heart of the inferno itself. Korekiyo watched him for a moment, he closed his eyes for a brief second, feeling the warmth of the fire seeping into his bones.

“Goodbye, Kokichi. Perhaps, one day, you will understand the true meaning of freedom.”

******

Kokichi staggered through the flames, as if the fire was a corpse hand clawing at his insides. Embers kissed his clothes and hair, but he didn’t flinch—he barely blinked. His once playful steps had turned sluggish, like dragging his feet through sticky mud. His usual smile had faded, replaced by an almost tired, contemplative expression as he dodged the occasional burning debris. But even as the fire licked at his heels, his mind was far from the inferno around him. Time for a little mental checklist.

✔️ - Survive the nights when playing games: Nothing too hard here.
✔️ - Find a temporary organization and join if there’s some kind of council: Obviously. If this place had any kind of system, he was going to worm his way into the top. If he was going to rot in hell, he’d do it sitting on a throne made of plastic chairs and fear.
✔️ - Find someone (preferably cute or hot) to help you steal THE deck of cards from the Mark of the City. ((Note to self: whatever you do, DON’T GET ATTACHED.))
🔄 - Find the Ten of Hearts: That was the reason he was here. That stupid, shiny card. Everything else led to this moment.
✖️ - Find and/or collect the face cards: If they even exist, that is.
✖️ - Successfully leave the Borderlands: Hah. Funny. Everyone talks about escaping, but no one even knows how. Still, if anyone could find a way, it would be him. Obviously. Not that anyone ever appreciated that.

Kokichi huffed, pushing open a half-burnt door with his shoulder as the fire crackled behind him. “Tch… This place sucks,” he muttered aloud. “Everything’s on fire, half the people want me dead, and I’m still the only one doing any actual work—such as stealing the cards and looking for the dealers’ base. I mean, come on. What would they do without me? Die? They already did that!”

He emerged into the scorched ruins of the main lobby. The ceiling above was crumbling in chunks, smoke curling toward the sky. He paused for a second—because of course this was where it all began. Tenko had died here. The game had started here. And now, it was ending here, too. And right in the center, untouched by the fire, sat the Borderlands’ signature white circular table. And right there, as if it had been waiting for him the whole time, lay the Ten of Hearts.

Kokichi stepped forward slowly. He reached out, picked up the card and turned it between his fingers. It was smooth, cold. But for a moment, all he felt was…nothing. No triumph. No joy. Just the bitter taste of realization.

“So that’s it, huh?” He said loudly, shaking his head. “I did all that for…a stupid card?” He stretched his arms up, voice mockingly chipper. “Whew! Good job, Kokichi! You lied, manipulated, stole, and backstabbed your way into completing a deck of cards! Yay!”

Then just as quickly, he frowned and scoffed, shoving the card inside his pocket. His mind was running in circles, almost in disbelief at how much he’d invested in this. For what? For a pile of cards?

He had backstabbed, betrayed, manipulated, used people—he’d done everything to get here, and yet...what was the reward? He had almost made himself believe the endgame would be something amazing, some kind of epic payoff. Maybe a new life? Maybe freedom? Maybe a chance to escape this hellhole? But what was he left with now?

The idea of collecting the last few cards—the face cards—seemed like such a waste now. His gaze shifted, looking at the flames that surrounded him, the wreckage of everything they’d been through. People had died. People had played the game—killed, betrayed, and suffered. He had been a part of it, orchestrated it even, but...was there really a point? Was there a real end to this madness?

“What’s next, huh?” Kokichi asked aloud.

*********************************************

”Oh, congratulations, everyone!”

She greeted enthusiastically.

”Excluding the face card games, you’ve all managed to make it through the numbered ones with...such impressive success. Quite the victory, don’t you think? So many lives lost along the way... How sweet, how tragic.”

She tilted her head contemplatively.

”I wonder how many of your comrades have died?”

Then, she stood up from her chair and slowly paced.

”Think back…to the ones shot, to the girl you set on fire, to those who drowned, to the ones who were shot in the head by a laser, or those whose heads were blown off. Those comrades of yours—how does it feel? All that grief, all that despair. And those moments…those death throes you’ll never forget.”

She stopped pacing and faced the screen, extending her arms out gleefully.

”I’m plainly overwhelmed by your perseverance! Such dedication. Now, we have a little gift for you…”

She jumped excitedly, beaming up like the sun.

”I just can’t take it any longer!—There will be new games! Oh, we’ll play them together, alright? You’ll fight for face cards!”

She started to laugh softly, almost like you never suspected her to be the mastermind of this hellhole.

”There’s still so much more in store for you all...so much to look forward to! Isn’t that just wonderful? I hope you’re all excited!”

Her laughing grew a little manic, but she quickly caught herself and cleared her throat.

”Ahem, sorry… Anyways, the next stage will commence tomorrow, sharp at noon.”

Once again, she held out her arms with a smile.

”Let’s have some fun together!”

Notes:

Aaaaaaaand scene! I finally finished Ten of Hearts!!!! We’ve officially entered the face card games, everyone!!! :D

Mmmmmmyeahhh Kokichi might've been a bit ooc...his part was rushed, sorry😭.

Also bonus chapter incoming!! :3

Chapter 27: Four of Hearts (Intermission!!)

Summary:

It is only when we fall to the level of fleas that we come closest to death.

Notes:

Chapter summary is a line from Reverse: 1999!! :3

Would’ve probably changed the game but I just really liked it😔

 

This side story takes place four days after Shuichi first arrived at the Mark of the City.

________________________________

Hajime Hinata never thought much about the future. Sure, he had the basics figured out—graduate high school, get into college, work a part-time job to keep himself afloat. But beyond that? He didn’t really know.

Everyone around him seemed to have something special, some talent that defined them. He had classmates who could draw breathtaking art, others who could compose music that made people cry, and some who were simply geniuses in their fields. But Hajime? He was just…Hajime. No extraordinary skills, no outstanding abilities. Just a guy trying to get through life. He wasn’t the best at anything. Not the smartest in his class, not the most athletic, not the most creative. He wasn’t particularly bad at anything either, but that only made it worse.

Graduating high school hadn’t changed much. He had gotten into a decent college, nothing prestigious but not terrible either. He worked part-time as a barista at a small café near campus, making coffee for people who barely spared him a glance as they tapped away on their laptops. The work wasn’t difficult, and he was decent at it—not amazing, not terrible, just okay.

And then there was Chiaki Nanami.

They had met by accident, quite literally. He had been walking across campus, lost in thought, when someone bumped into him. When he looked down, there she was—her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen, fingers still tapping away at a game even after colliding with him.

“Oh,” she had said, blinking up at him. “Sorry. Was fighting a boss.”

It was such a bizarre introduction that he hadn’t even known how to respond. But then she had glanced at his phone, noticed a familiar app, and immediately lit up.

”You play that too?” he had asked, sounding more excited than he expected.

That was how it started.

Chiaki didn’t often meet people who played the same games as her, so when Hajime mentioned he enjoyed them too, she was thrilled. And from that moment on, she decided they were friends.

They spent a lot of time together now, usually in the small campus café where Hajime worked. It was one of those places with soft lighting, mismatched chairs, and coffee machines running in the background.

Hajime sat across from Chiaki, absentmindedly stirring his coffee, watching as the liquid swirled in lazy circles. She was sitting in her usual relaxed position, her chin resting on one hand, eyes half-lidded as she sipped her drink. She was always like this—calm, a little sleepy-looking, like she existed in some kind of dreamlike state. But Hajime had learned that just because she looked tired didn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention. In fact, Chiaki probably noticed more than most people did.

That was part of the problem.

“You’re doing that thing again,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Hajime blinked. “Huh?”

Chiaki set her drink down, tilting her head slightly. “Thinking too much.”

“Is it that obvious?” He huffed, leaning back in his seat.

She nodded, “Yep.”

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” He sighed.

Chiaki hummed in response, then reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out her phone. A few taps later, she held it up for him to see. The screen displayed the character selection screen of a familiar fighting game. “Wanna play?” she asked.

Hajime gave her a flat look. “Chiaki, this isn’t going to distract me from my problems.”

She blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“…Wanna try anyway?”

Despite himself, he let out a small laugh.

She smiled, just a little. “You still haven’t beaten me yet.”

“That’s because you play this game all the time.”

She shrugged, as if to say And?.

He shook his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled out his own phone and opened the game. A few taps later, they were matched against each other, their characters appearing on the screen. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, too focused on the game. Hajime furrowed his brows, fingers moving quickly, trying to predict her moves, trying to counter them before she could land a hit. He thought he had her for a second—his character darting in for an attack— And then Chiaki’s character dodged at the last second, countered, and took out half his health bar.

Hajime groaned. “Are you serious?”

“You hesitated,” She let out a small giggle.

“I did not—” He cut himself off when she won the match a second later. He stared at the screen in disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Chiaki sipped her drink. “GG.”

Hajime exhaledd, rubbing his temples. “I don’t even know why I try anymore.”

“Because it’s fun,” she said simply.

He scoffed. “Getting my ass kicked isn’t exactly fun.”

She inclined her head. “But you keep playing.”

...She had a point. Even though he lost every time, even though it was frustrating, he never actually wanted to stop playing against her.

Maybe that was why she kept bringing this up—the whole memories matter more than talent thing.

She had tried to explain it to him before. How life wasn’t just about being good at something, how the experiences you had and the people you met mattered more than having some big, flashy talent.

Hajime didn’t buy it. Not really.

“If you focus too much on what you don’t have, you’ll miss out on what you do,” she had said once. And even now, he still wasn’t sure what to say to that.

And just moments after, he was told to leave early due to some sort of emergency or somethin. The café doors swung shut behind them, and Hajime took a deep breath. Chiaki walked beside him, her hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie, her gaze lazily fixed on the sidewalk ahead. They had spent more time in there than he expected. Not that he minded—hanging out with Chiaki had become such a regular thing that it felt natural, like something that was just part of his life now.

As they neared the street corner where they usually parted ways, Hajime slowed his steps. Chiaki did the same, pulling out her phone for a quick glance before tucking it back into her hoodie pocket.

“This is where we split, huh?” Hajime said, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Mhm. Guess so.” Chiaki bobbed her head.

She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with her usual sleepy tone, she said, “See you later, Hajime.”

He forced a small smile. “Yeah. Later, Chiaki.”

She turned and walked off, her figure growing smaller as she disappeared down the road.

And just like that, he was alone again.

Hajime sighed, turning in the opposite direction. He tilted his head up, staring at the sky. The café had been lively, full of people talking, laughing, enjoying themselves. But here, walking home alone.

I wonder what it’d be like to leave this all behind.

The thought had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. What if he could go somewhere else—somewhere completely different? A world where he wasn’t just some ordinary guy with no talent, no real purpose? A world where he had something meant for him, something that made him special?

A fresh start.

A new life.

A talent that was his and his alone.

Here, no matter how hard he worked, he’d always be just Hajime Hinata—an average guy, struggling to find his place. But if he could go somewhere else, somewhere where he mattered…would he finally be happy?

The wind picked up, cold against his skin. He huffed, lowering his gaze back to the path ahead.

It was just a fantasy. A fleeting thought that would never become reality.

But still—

If there really was a world like that…

He’d do anything to be part of it.

Hajime walked with his hands in his pockets. The streets were still busy—cars passing, people chatting, life moving forward like it always did. But as he turned the next corner, something strange caught his eye.

Fireworks.

In the middle of…the day?

He stopped in his tracks, staring up at the sky. Bright colors exploded above him—reds, blues, golds—flaring brilliantly against the pale afternoon clouds before fading into nothing.

...That wasn’t normal. There wasn’t a festival today, was there? And even if there was, why set them off in broad daylight, where they wouldn’t even look that impressive? A couple of people nearby seemed to have noticed, too. He saw a few glances upward, some murmurs of confusion. But just as quickly as they came, everyone went back to their routines, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

Hajime did the same.

Weird, but whatever.

Shaking his head, he continued his walk home. The fireworks stayed in his mind for a moment longer, but he brushed the thought aside. It wasn’t like they had anything to do with him.

But then, as he turned another corner, everything changed.

The world fell silent.

The streets were empty. Completely, utterly empty.

Hajime’s steps slowed as he glanced around with his breath caught in his throat.

The stores, the sidewalks, the roads—where there had been people just moments ago, there was now nothing.

No cars. No voices. No movement.

Just him.

He turned in a slow circle, his heart beating out of his chest. His own footsteps echoed unnervingly against the ground, the sound louder than it should’ve been in a city this big. It was like the world had been wiped clean.

“What the…” He whispered.

There was no way this was real. No way an entire city could just—disappear. He took a cautious step forward. Then another. His eyes darted to the buildings, searching for any sign of life—someone looking out a window, a flicker of movement, anything.

Nothing.

His breathing grew uneven. Had he just missed something? A warning? A siren? Was this an evacuation? But if that were the case, why was he still here? Why was he the only one left?

Something was very, very wrong.

*********************************************

For hours, he searched the streets, his footsteps the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. He walked past empty cafés, through deserted shopping districts, down roads that should have been packed with people going about their day. The afternoon sun had long since started to sink, and eventually, the deep blue of twilight took over, and soon after, night fell completely.

Still, Hajime found nothing.

His legs ached. His throat was dry. He had called out—again and again—but no one answered.

This shouldn’t be possible. Even if this were some kind of dream, it was too real. No, he needed to think. There had to be some kind of explanation. Maybe a power outage? Maybe some massive citywide evacuation? But that still didn’t explain why he was the only one left.

What was he supposed to do now?

All of a sudden—a light. Bright and sudden, illuminating through the darkness. Hajime froze, eyes snapping to the source. And there stood a building. Just one. A lone skyscraper standing tall among the darkened cityscape.

That was the first sign of anything he had seen all day. He didn’t know what he would find there. He didn’t know if it would have answers. But right now, it was the only lead he had.

Without hesitation, Hajime started walking. Then walking turned to running. Then running turned into a full sprint.

The moment Hajime stepped into the building, the air felt different. The space was eerily quiet, save for the low murmuring of voices. There stood four people. Two girls and two guys. The younger girl, probably a teenager, was chatting with the middle-aged woman, who had an air of impatience around her. The older man, gruff and unshaven, leaned lazily against a wall, a cigar burning between his fingers. Meanwhile, the hooded man sat at a table, flipping through a stack of magazines, his face hidden beneath the shadows of his hood.

Hajime’s breath hitched. This…felt wrong.

It wasn’t just the fact that he had finally found people after an entire day of isolation. It was them. They weren’t surprised to see him. They weren’t relieved, confused, or even slightly curious. They just…were. Like his presence didn’t matter. Like he was just another piece of furniture in the room.

Something was off. Way, way off.

“…Uh.” His voice came out unsure, hesitant. “What is everyone doing here?”

The gruff-looking man took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke before giving Hajime a look of sheer disappointment. “You gotta be kidding me.” He sighed, shaking his head. “There’s still inexperienced people out there?”

He blinked. Inexperienced? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

The middle-aged woman scoffed, crossing her arms. “Like… Give me a break. Please at least stay out of my way.”

Hajime’s brows knitted together. He didn’t understand. Their words didn’t make sense. They spoke like they knew something he didn’t—like there was a whole conversation happening that he wasn’t part of. His instincts screamed at him and told him he was somewhere dangerous and that he should run. He took a slow step back, forcing a stiff smile. “Well, looks like I got to the wrong place, so I’ll be leaving now…”

He spun and reached for the door, pulling. But it just won’t budge. He frowned, gripping the handle tighter. He pulled again. Then pushed. Then yanked, harder this time.

“What…?” He whispered. “It won’t open?” His grasp tightened on the handle as he continued his attempts. “Huh? Wait—why? What?”

Slowly, he heard footsteps coming his direction. He turned, eyes locking onto the hooded man now standing beside him. Up close, his face was still mostly obscured by the shadows of his hood, but he could see his mouth—a neutral, almost bored expression.

“No point in escaping, sadly,” the hooded man murmured, holding something out toward him. “Here. You can register with this.”

Hajime hesitated. The dim light reflected off the object—a phone. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and took it. The screen lit up instantly and the device emitted a soft beep.

”FACIAL RECOGNITION IN PROCESS…”
“PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT.”

... ...

“WELCOME, ULTIMATE DETERMINATION.”

Hajime blinked his eyes. “…What?”

‘Ultimate Determination?’ What even was that? He wasn’t an Ultimate anything—he was just a normal guy! His fingers tightened around the phone as confusion swirled in his mind. “Umm… What is this?” He looked up, hoping for an answer—

”REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED.”
”THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

”TO PROCEED, ALL PARTICIPANTS MUST STEP IN THE ELEVATOR AND HEAD TO THE TOP FLOOR.”

Without hesitation, the four strangers moved. The younger girl, the middle-aged woman, the gruff man, and the hooded guy all walked toward the elevator at the back of the room. None of them spoke. None of them hesitated. Like they had done this before.

Hajime stood frozen for a moment, fingers tightening around the phone still in his hand. His brain screamed at him to question things—to demand answers, to refuse to follow these strangers, to do something.

But the door was still locked…so he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? With a heavy sigh, Hajime forced his feet to move, trailing behind the others. The moment he stepped inside, the doors shut behind him. He stood awkwardly in the corner, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor as the elevator began its ascent. He felt like he should go over what happened today in his head.

Okay… He was hanging out with Chiaki, then he was dismissed early by the café. He saw fireworks in the morning and, all of a sudden, everyone disappeared (aside from these people?). And now he was in an elevator playing a “game” with strangers. What has he gotten himself into?

Suddenly, the elevator doors opened and they were on the roof. Each person went over to the elevator lifts, and Hajime followed with the majority. Once he was on one, there was a small screen and two buttons. Majority and minority. Carefully, the lifts lower down to the 10th floor of the building, the exact middle considering there are a total of 20 floors.

The screen lit up.

”DIFFICULTY, FOUR OF HEARTS.”
”GAME, ‘ELEVATOR LIFT.’”

”CLEAR CONDITIONS: REACH THE TOP FLOOR.”

”RULES:”
”- EACH PARTICIPANT MUST ENTER THE LIFT OF YOUR CHOICE.”
”- A QUESTION WILL APPEAR AND IT MUST BE ANSWERED WITHIN 60 SECONDS.”
”- IF A QUESTION IS ANSWERED WITH THE CORRECT MAJORITY, PARTICIPANTS WILL GO A FLOOR UP.”
”- IF A QUESTION IS ANSWERED WITH THE INCORRECT MAJORITY, YOU WILL GO ONE FLOOR DOWN WITH AN ELECTROSHOCK.”
”- IF A QUESTION IS ANSWERED WITH THE CORRECT MINORITY, YOU WILL GO UP TWO FLOORS ABOVE.
”- IF A QUESTION IS ANSWERED WITH THE INCORRECT MINORITY, IT WILL BE GAME OVER FOR THAT PARTICIPANT.”
”- LIE AND YOU WILL GO MUCH HIGHER.”

”GAME START.”

’Game over’? His heightened into fists as he prayed this was some kind of complicated prank. Or some weird dream. But the majority would say it wasn’t.

”QUESTION 1: ASKED OF 100 TOURISTS, IF YOU FLIP A COIN THREE TIMES, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF GETTING ALL HEADS?”
”MAJORITY - ⅛ (72% agree)”
”MINORITY - ⅓ (28% agree)”

What kind of question was this? What did it have to do with anything? And why did it feel like the answer could cost him his life?

The teenage girl—Shiho Sonoda, the Ultimate Clarinetist—let out a panicked breath. “So these are the types of questions?” She shifted uncomfortably. “There’s no time to think!”

“If you trust the survey, 70% of tourists say it’s ⅛.” The gruff man, Nobuki Anzai—the Ultimate Structural Engineer, grunted. “Then it has to be the majority.”

Hajime hesitated for a moment. Should he really trust that? But the others had already selected their answers. They chose the majority. If he chose wrong, he’d either get electrocuted or worse—eliminated. With a swift inhale, he pressed “MAJORITY.”

His lift jerked upward.

”CORRECT!”

Shiho sighed in relief. “The lift rose!”

”QUESTION 2: ASKED OF 100 TEENAGERS, WHAT YEAR WAS THE FIRST iPHONE RELEASED?”
”MAJORITY - 2007 (77% agree)”
”MINORITY - 2005 (23% agree)”

”Ain’t this an easy question?” Nobuki laughed. “It’s obviously the majority!”

”CORRECT!”

Tomoka Kashiwagi, the Ultimate Flight Attnendant grinned, pleased. “Aren’t we lucky?”

”Looks like we’ll easily clear this!” Shiho said.

”QUESTION 3: ASKED OF 100 PEOPLE AT A TRIVIA NIGHT, WHICH COUNTRY HAS THE CITY OF ISTANBUL?”
”MAJORITY - GREECE (57% agree)”
”MINORITY - TURKEY (43% agree)”

Tomoka, the middle-aged woman, huffed, crossing her arms. “Tch. It’s not like we have time to second-guess. Just go with the majority and move on.”

Shiho hesitated. “But… I think—”

“Don’t think. Just pick.” Nobuki pressed “MAJORITY” without hesitation. Tomoka followed, then the hooded guy. Shiho bit her lip but did the same.

Greece? That doesn’t feel right, does it? But… They already chose something. If he went against them and picked the wrong one, he’d be eliminated. He exhaled slowly, then pressed “MAJORITY.”

”INCORRECT!”

The screen flashed red. Hajime barely had time to register it before—

BZZT!

A searing jolt of electricity shot through his entire body. A strangled grunt left his throat as his knees buckled. His hands trembled as he gripped the railing of his lift, trying to keep himself from collapsing.

Then, suddenly, the lift dropped to one floor. It only lasted a second, but his body braced like he was falling from a cliff. Eventually, the shocking stopped as well, and Hajime inhaled shakily, his entire body still on edge.

Tomoka clicked her tongue, shaking off the remaining tingles of electricity. “Tch. Annoying.”

Isn’t this supposed to be a game? What kind of a game is this? Was death really the punishment for losing?

”QUESTION 4: ASKED OF 100 ASTRONOMY FANS, WHICH IS THE BIGGEST STAR WE KNOW?”
”MAJORITY - UY SCUTI (65% agree)”
”MINORITY - BETELGEUSE (35% agree)”

Hajime’s heart beated so hard it felt like it was trying to break free from his ribcage. His fingers hovered above the buttons, paralyzed by the choices in front of him. He wasn’t an expert in astronomy—hell, he barely paid attention to science beyond the basics. He had no idea which one was right.

But he had to get this one right.

His arms still ached from the last shock, his muscles stiff and unresponsive like they hadn’t fully recovered. The brief zap had been enough to make his entire body convulse, and the memory of it sent a cold shiver down his spine. He couldn't afford to experience that again. What if it got worse with each wrong answer? What if the next shock was stronger, longer, unbearable?

If he second-guessed himself, he’d hesitate. If he hesitated, he might run out of time. Think, Hajime, think!

He didn’t know the correct answer, but the majority had a 65% agreement. That was safer, right? The larger the group, the better chance they had to move up. His finger jabbed the “MAJORITY” button.

For a split second, he braced himself, fearing the worst.

”CORRECT!”

His lift jolted upward, and relief flooded his body. A shaky breath escaped him, and he realized his hands were trembling. He forced them into fists, trying to steady himself. This game—this sick, twisted game—was toying with them. First the shocks, now the panic-inducing choices. What was even the point of this? But just as he thought they were all safe—

A sharp, choked gasp broke through the silence. Tomoka’s hands were gripping the railing of her lift so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. Her eyes darted between the screen and the others, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

”W- Wait…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Wait, I— I was the only—” one who chose minority?

"No… No, no, no, wait!” Her voice cracked, rising in pure terror. Her hands scrambled against the lift’s controls as if she could undo her choice. “I- I pressed the wrong one! I didn’t mean to—!”

The screen in front of her flashed an ominous red.

”INCORRECT MINORITY!”
”ELIMINATED.”

Her breathing turned ragged. “No, no, no—!”

Then the floor beneath her vanished, and her entire body plummeted into darkness. Moments later, her lift was gone. She was gone.

Hajime’s body went rigid, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. It all happened too fast. One second, she was there, speaking, moving, alive. The next—she had simply disappeared, swallowed by the abyss beneath them. Shiho's hands covered her mouth, her entire body shaking. Nobuki let out a heavy exhale, his head lowering slightly. His fingers twitched toward his cigarette, but he didn’t reach for it.

Hajime just stood there. His hands felt ice-cold and his stomach churned. He hadn’t even spoken to her. He barely knew her name. And yet, the image of her panicked face, her pleading words, and the way she had vanished in an instant… It wouldn’t leave his mind.

”QUESTION 5: ASKED OF 100 ENTOMOLOGISTS, WHICH INSECT IS THE MOST DEADLIEST TO HUMANS?”
”MAJORITY - BLACK WIDOW SPIDER (62% agree)”
”MINORITY - BLACK WIDOW SPIDER (38% agree)”

Hajime’s body still ached from the last shock, his nerves raw from the sudden pain. A black widow spider…that was obviously dangerous, right? Their venom was strong, their bites notorious. But something felt off. His instincts told him this wasn’t just about common knowledge—it was about what the survey said.

Shiho sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, okay, no time to think, just—just go with the majority, right?”

“Damn it, I hate this,” Nobuki growled. He clenched his jaw, frustration flashing in his eyes. “If we overthink it, we’ll just screw ourselves over. The majority picked the spider, so that’s our best shot.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Hajime could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Then, the screen flashed.

”INCORRECT MAJORITY! ELIMINATION IN PROCESS.”

A violent surge of electricity ripped through his body. Hajime let out a strangled gasp, every muscle seizing as white-hot pain shot through him. His vision blurred, his hands grasping against the cold metal of the lift. It only lasted a second, but it felt like an eternity.

He didn’t want to go through pain like this anymore. Why did he have to go through this? He was just fine as Hajime Hinata. He never should’ve wished for a world to start over.

Shiho yelped beside him, her hands trembling as she doubled over from the shock. “Nngh—! Why?! Why was that wrong?!”

”CORRECT MINORITY!”

Hajime blinked past the pain, eyes snapping toward the hooded guy’s lift. It rose, not just by one floor—by two.

”Why?” She cried. “If you knew the answer, why did you stay quiet?!”

Nobuki glared at him. “He probably made a gamble… He probably knew that no one would go with the minority after having seen someone just die… It’s a bet against the question itself!”

”But he would’ve died if the minority were wrong!” She said, “Just two floors isn’t worth—”

”QUESTION 6: ASKED OF 100 TRILINGUALS SPEAKERS, WHAT DOES THE PORTUGUESE WORD ‘ROSTO’ MEAN?”
”MAJORITY - FACE (67% agree)”
”MINORITY - SMILE (33% agree)”

”That’s not quite true,” Nobuki spoke up. “It’s not enough to just rely on correct answers. You’ll just remain in an up and down loop if you go with the majority.” He stared at the question before him. “In other words, if we don’t take the associated risk of dying alongside the minority, we’ll never reach the 20th floor!” He slammed his fist on the screen, but it didn’t quite break. “Let’s work together! There’s no other way to win!”

Even if he wanted to help, Hajime didn’t know Portuguese.

“I- I remember studying some Portuguese in my free time…” Shiho’s voice was shaky, her eyes darting back and forth across the screen.

”Really? Nice going!” Hajime said. Perhaps there was hope after all

”Even so!” She screamed. “Four people’s lives are on the line! I’m not confident! I don’t remember!”

Nobuki grunted. “Time’s short! Just shut up and concentrate! You’re the only one we can rely on right now!”

Shiho began to mutter. “Smile, wait…or was it face…?” She swallowed and told the answer. “The answer is…probably the minority with smile…”

”Minority?!” Nobuki’s breath hitched. “Are you sure? If you’re wrong, we’ll all die!”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She could only nod her head. Shiho’s voice was thin and unsteady—not at all like someone confident in their answer.

Should he trust her?

But Shiho was trembling. Her face was pale. Her hand was shaking so badly she could barely hold it over the screen. She didn’t look like someone who knew what they were doing.

...Alright, then.

”CORRECT MAJORITY!”

Nobuki’s eyes widened in horror. “You—”

Shiho’s hands were pressed to her mouth. “After thinking about it… I felt maybe it was the majority, but…you had already pushed the button, so I couldn’t bring myself to tell you…”

His lift snapped, and he glared at the liar who tricked him. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!!! I’LL KILL YO—”

And he plummeted to the ground.

Hajime’s stomach turned as he caught one last glimpse of Nobuki’s frozen, disbelieving expression before the darkness swallowed him whole. Shiho collapsed to her knees, clutching her face as tears streamed down her cheeks. “N- No… Noo!! I…I didn’t mean to!”

Suddenly, Hajime’s lift jerked upward—one floor. So did the hooded guy. Shiho’s shot up five. Now she was on the 17th, the hooded man at the 15th, and Hajime left on the 12th, the lowest.

”QUESTION 7: ASKED OF 100 PHYSICISTS, WHICH PARTICLE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR GIVING MASS TO OTHER PARTICLES?”
”MAJORITY - ELECTRON (70% agree)”
”MINORITY - HIGGS BOSON (30% agree)”

”Let’s work together! There’s no other way to win!”

Yeah, right. That had worked out well for him. With this, they can no longer work together. Hajime’s eyelids lowered in growing despair. Slowly climbing one or two floors at a time—it was ridiculous to think they’d reach the top like that. You couldn’t win this game by cooperating. Not when the cost of failure was death.

You can’t win unless you deceive each other.

“Hey…! Hey, you!”

Hajime’s head snapped toward Shiho. Sweat glistened on her forehead, and her hands were trembling. Despite that, she was forcing a bright, awkward smile.

“Uh… Well…just now…” She began. “I…I was flustered. And I…I did something unforgivable…”

His eyes narrowed. Unforgivable? He could still see the horror on Nobuki’s face as the floor gave way beneath him.

“But this time… I really know the answer! I’m serious!” She tugged a crooked grin. “It’s the minority! It’s the Higgs boson!”

...Really?

Was she that stupid? Her breathing was too quick and shallow. The smile on her face was brittle, barely hanging on.

“You’re sure?” Hajime answered coldly.

“Yes!” Shiho forced a nod. “I swear! This time, I’m positive!”

Positive, huh? Just like last time?

Hajime pressed his lips into a thin line—and then, without another word, he hit the majority button.

”INCORRECT MAJORITY!”

Hajime barely had time to process that before the surge of electricity hit him. “AGH—!”

The pain shot through his entire body, muscles seizing violently as the shock tore through him. His chest heaved as the electricity faded, leaving behind the sound of static in his skull.

”Fuck! Only a little further…!” She yelled out desperately. “I only had a little bit further to clear it!”

”QUESTION 8: ASKED OF 100 PSYCHIATRISTS, WHAT IS THE MOST COMMON SYMPTOM OF POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER (PTSD)?”
”MAJORITY - NIGHTMARES (66% agree)”
”MINORITY - HYPERVIGILANCE (34% agree)”

The moment Hajime read the question, his chest seized. The memory was immediate and crushing. The cold press of a gun barrel against his temple. The blinding flash of light and the deafening ring in his ears. The blood. The cold, wet feeling of it soaking his hands. His own choked scream.

“…Nightmares,” Hajime said, wiping his face with a trembling hand, blinking through the burning in his eyes. “It’s nightmares. That’s…the right answer.”

Shiho’s eye twitched. “What?”

“Yes!” He barked. “It’s always nightmares—every night—you see it again and again, you wake up gasping—you don’t even know what’s real anymore! I know what I’m talking about,” he rasped. His hand hovered over the button. “You have to trust me. Just- just press it.”

”This fucking—... No! At this stage, who’s going to believe a word anyone says?!”

”Please…” Hajime whined, gripping onto the railings of the lift. “I don’t want this anymore! Can’t we start over, and once again work with each other?” His shoulders shook as tears streamed out of his cheeks. “I’m begging you… Please believe me!”

Shiho’s hand trembled. She hesitated, and then pressed the button too. The hooded guy followed without hesitation.

”CORRECT MINORITY!”

That’s right. Every single one of you is looking out for yourself. If it’s for your own sake, you’re fine with lying, deceiving, betraying.

In that case…

”Minority… No way… You tricked us?! I- I won’t forgive you! How could you?!”

Hajime’s lift shot upward. Not one floor. Not two. Seven floors. That made him the lead.

”I can’t believe you! You’re just a little brat and you even started crying to deceive us?!” She stomped on the ground, raising her arm to flip him off. “Don’t fuck with me!”

...Wasn’t she the one to fucking with him?! She left that man to die and even had the nerve to deceive him afterwards! What’s wrong with deceiving someone like that?!

It’s natural she should be punished!

“Wait, I- I don’t wanna be shocked anymore…! A—AGH!!!” She screamed as electricity shot through her body. Her lift dropped a floor. The hooded guy dropped too, body twitching from the shock.

Hajime watched as they got electroshocked while he didn’t. He had his fill of being deceived these days… He should be fine with deceiving others, right? Then…are these genuine tears that are falling?

”I’m sorry!” He leaned forward, gazing down at the other two. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He was met with silence.

”QUESTION 9: ASKED OF 100 LITERATURE MAJORS, WHO WROTE ‘CRIME AND PUNISHMENT’?”
”MAJORITY - FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY (76% agree)”
”MINORITY - LEO TOLSTOY (24% agree)”

Hajime’s breath was still shaky as the next question appeared on the screen. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed down from the last round. “Fyodor Dostoevsky,” he said immediately. “It’s Dostoevsky! It’s the majority!”

Shiho’s head snapped toward him and her lips curled into a bitter smile. “Oh? Suddenly confident again?”

“You…you have to trust me this time! It’s the majority! That’s the correct answer!”

“Oh, so now you’re not crying anymore?” She scoffed. “That was fast.”

“I’m not lying!” He slammed his hands on the railing of his lift. His chest was heaving. “Please—just this once—believe me!”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she sneered. “It worked last time, didn’t it? Get all teary-eyed, beg us to believe you, act like you’re some scared little kid—and then you shoot up seven floors and leave us behind.”

“That’s not—”

Shiho’s hand curled into a fist. “You tricked all of us! And you think I’m just going to fall for it again?!”

Hajime couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in disgust. “You bitch! Didn’t you try to trick us first?!” His grip on the railing tightened. “You’re going to die! Just trust me—”

Shiho’s hand hovered over the buttons. “If I’m going to die,” she said quietly, “at least I’ll die without being tricked again.”

”CORRECT MAJORITY!”

Then, her lift fell. She gave him him one last middle finger before dropping and dying. The hooded guy looked down into the pit beneath them, then slowly turned away.

...Huh. He didn’t even realize he was already so close to the top. Only one more floor left.

”QUESTION 10: ASKED OF 0 RESIDENTS IN THE BORDERLANDS, WHAT IS OUR COMPANY MOTTO?”
”MAJORITY - SAFE AND SECURE (▓▓% agree)
”MINORITY - WHOLE HEARTED DEVOTION (▓▓% agree)

Hajime’s head dropped forward, his hand pressed against his forehead. “…What the hell is this?”

He had no idea. No one could know this. The hell were they even asking? ‘Our’ company motto? Whose company?

“...Whole hearted devotion.”

Hajime’s head shot up.

The hooded man’s voice was calm, almost bored. His hands were stuffed into his pockets. “The ‘our’ in the question likely refers to the office building we’ve been in this whole time. They left a plaque in the lobby for people to look at. I figured it might be important, so I checked it out.” His gaze sharpened beneath his hood. “The correct answer is the minority—whole hearted devotion.”

Well, Hajime’s mind raced at his deduction.

This guy… He’s been holding back this whole time. He’s already at the 14th floor—if Hajime gets this wrong, the hooded guy could easily take the lead. He’d rise five floors and get the bonus for tricking Hajime. That would put him at the top. He’d win.

What if…this was the strategy? What if this was the moment he got betrayed?

But… The hooded guy never deceived anyone so far. Even the girl lied and tricked them both. He had every chance to manipulate Hajime and yet…he didn’t.

”Why are you telling me this?” He asked hoarsely.

No reply from below.

Hajime’s hand hovered over the buttons, and his pulse hammered in his ears. He could press the majority. He’d stay safe. He wouldn’t risk it.

Click!

He pressed the minority with dull eyes and awaited for his lift to fall.

”CORRECT MINORITY!”

His list ascended and reached the roof. He stumbled out, legs shaking beneath him. He braced himself against the railing and looked down. From up here, the building seemed impossibly tall.

He made it.

But…why?

Why was this even a game? Why were they forced to go through all of this?

Hajime’s breath hitched and his chest squeezed painfully.

He didn’t want to stay here a second longer.

So he turned and ran.

*********************************************

”QUESTION 11: ASKED OF 0 RESIDENTS IN THE BORDERLANDS, WHAT IS OUR COMPANY’S CAPITAL STOCK?”
”MAJORITY - 770 MILLION YEN (▓▓% agree)
”MINORITY - 530 MILLION YEN (▓▓% agree)

Left alone, the man in the hood read the question silently.

”So everything after the tenth question comes from the pamphlet?” He mused aloud. His tone was flat, but there was a faint edge to it. “I should’ve brought it with me for good measure. I don’t remember at all…” A sigh escaped him as his gaze flicked to the timer. “In the end, I’ve come up short.”

And suddenly—

”PLEASE TELL ME THE QUESTION!!!”

He looked up sharply to see…the same boy who reached the top.

”I’ve brought—” he gasped for breath, “—the company introduction! I thought that if the next question was from this thing you could tell me the question!”

His lips parted slightly. “...Capital stock.”

”Capital stock…capital stock…” Hajime mumbled, skimming through the pages frantically. “Here! 770 million yen!”

”CORRECT MAJORITY!”

Hajime continued to help the hooded man until he reached the roof himself. He stumbled toward him as the lift opened. His face lit up. “You did it!”

The man barely had time to process before Hajime threw his arms around him. He stiffened, but after a moment…he let himself relax. His hand hovered awkwardly over Hajime’s back before he sighed and patted him lightly.

Shortly, they returned to the ground floor and exited the building. The man’s eyes softened as he watched Hajime. “...Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Huh?”

“If you hadn’t come back…” His hand slid into his pocket. “I would have died.”

Hajime’s expression darkened.

”Well… If you’re bothered by that girl who died back there…” he started. “Even if you didn’t do anything at that time, no one knows if we all could have survived.” He nodded his head gently. “But, if you still can't shake off the memory, shoulder it and live on.” His eyes narrowed slightly beneath the shadow of his hood. ”Fight through it! Even if you’re drowning in pain… live on, right to the very end!”

After silence, his lips slowly parted. “…Hajime,” he said. “I’m Hajime Hinata.” His gaze lowered. “The phone earlier…it called me the Ultimate Determination. I…still don’t get it, though.”

The man was quiet for a moment. Then, he reached up and pulled down his hood. Dark hair fell around his face, brushing over sharp golden eyes.

“I’m Shuichi,” he smiled faintly. “Shuichi Saihara. The Ultimate Detective.”

Hajime blinked. Then…he smiled.

Notes:

Anyways…Shiho’s a bitch lmao.

So glad I got to sneak this in :> because Doudou looked so much like Hajime and, well…yeah. I wrote this before and during Ten of Hearts!! Anyways, I really need to rewatch THH and DR2 guys🙏 I’m so sorry if Hajime was ooc, I really wanted to include every DR protagonist (YES, Komaru will be here :3) and I don’t wanna mischaracterize them by accident. Also in that one part earlier where bro tricked Shiho and Shuichi, the flashbacks he was getting came from an incident when he was a child. Man was held hostage🙏 I decided to say it already just in case of future confusion :3 I know it MIGHT not be canon, but yk……😔🙏

Lastly, please don’t freak out at who the King of Clubs will be💔

Chapter 28: Small A/N

Hi.

I've been, um, drowning in schoolwork... We even have Saturday classes guys. Send help.

Anyways, I want to take a moment to apologize for the way I handled the King of Clubs in this story. It's a game I don’t like nor hate, so I was tryinf to speedrun it one a bit. So like, absolutely NOT cinema.

The more I read them, the more I felt something was off. Whenever I try write the parts in my docs, I get this overwhelming urge to delete everything. Like I’ve said before, I have no idea what kind of drugs September 2024 me was inhaling to choose Gonta as the King of Clubs. It doesn’t feel right, does it? It's been bugging (HAHA) me more than I expected.

So, I’ve decided that I’m gonna scrap those versions and rewrite the whole section from scratch. I know it’s a bit of a disruption, but trust me guys, it's for the best. I just wanted to let you all know what's to come for 7.1, 7.2, and 7.3.

Also, thank you for 90+ kudos and 3k hits guys!! :3 It's really a motivation boost.

Chapter 29: Jack of Hearts 7.1

Summary:

You crawled through hell, and now the ground gives way again. This isn’t the end; it’s the marrow of hell, where everything you thought you knew about suffering gets shredded and rewritten. In this layer of hell, time won't move. Staring at the hands of a broken pocket watch will not make time go forward again, for it’s forever stuck at the hour you left home. But no matter how broken the clock or this place may be, you will return home, even if you have to break time itself to do it.

Notes:

Just letting you know, this is the previous 7.1 and 7.2 combined with the slightest of tweaks. Feel free to skip this if you’ve already read it. If you haven’t/are a new reader, happy reading!! :3

Also, I'm leaving the Card Title a secret (for now) *evil laugh intensifies*

[EDIT]: The truth has been revealed!!!

_________________________________

It was warm. That was the first thing Shuichi noticed.

Not the pain in his ribs or the burn of exhaustion in his limbs–just…warmth. He stirred gently, the softest groan leaving his lips as he blinked his eyes open. His head felt light, like he’d just woken up from the best nap of his life. The kind you get once in a blue moon; where you forget everything, even your own name, for a while. There was no sound of gunshots, no screaming, no burning structures collapsing in on themselves, and no blood. For a second, it didn’t feel like the Borderlands at all. Something soft even cradled his head, even covering him. His body still aches in all the familiar places…ribs, temple, legs…but the pain was muted. There were bandages hugging his arms and a fresh line of band-aids decorated his skin like stickers. He turned his head slightly and realized he was inside a convenience store. The lights above were dead, but enough daylight crept through the windows.

”You’re awake.”

He flinched at the sudden voice, it came from a shadowed corner of the store. “Ah, Kyoko…?”

She was leaning against a shelf with her arms folded across her chest, and her eyes were on him like she’d been watching this whole time. “Makoto refused to leave without you.”

As if on cue, Makoto came into view, crouching over a small camp stove placed on an overturned crate. He held a battered tin kettle over the flames, patiently stirring three paper ramen cups soaking in water.

“Oh, you’re up! I told Kyoko you’d be okay!” He called cheerfully. “Your heartbeat was strong, and we just had to stop the bleeding! I mean, you were in bad shape, but it was nothing too crazy.” He poured the hot broth evenly between the three cups and brought them over, handing one to Kyoko and another to Shuichi.

Shuichi murmured a thanks and took the ramen carefully, the heat bleeding into his fingertips. Makoto and Kyoko started talking, but their words were barely registered to him. He adjusted the blanket that covered him, which he now just noticed was a big hoodie. They were just talking. Talking like they’re not in hell. Talking like they were camping or something.

“And it’s Kokichi, by the way–Kokichi Oma, the one and only labeled Ultimate Supreme Leader! But you can just call me whatever you want. ‘Cool guy,’ ‘Genius,’ or maybe just ‘that guy who carried you.’”

”Um… Shuichi Saihara.”

“Cool. What’s your label?”

”Ultimate Detective, I think.”

”You’re a detective?! Ah, no wonder you noticed the far-range shooting from the tagger before! Cuz you’re a detective, duh!”

That was the night he stopped expecting to die and finally had a firm goal in his mind. He didn’t ask to be rescued that night, he surely didn’t look like he needed one, right? The soup in the noodles almost looked like the stew he made.

”So… If I help you win the next game, will you take me there?”

”Mhm! Scout’s honor! I, Kokichi Oma, will take you, Shuichi Saihara, to the Mark of the City after you win me a game!”

“Alright… I’ll help you with the game. But you better not be tricking me.”

“Ohoho, how scary. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t lie to you, Shuichi! Well, maybe just a tiny lie, but nothing painful.”

Nothing painful, he said. A ‘tiny’ lie, he said. Funny. Then why was he the one left behind, beaten, broken, humiliated, while he walked off like he never cared at all? He made it even sound so harmless, like a prank without consequences—

”Shuichi.”

”Huh?”

Kyoko faced him, arching an eyebrow at how easily he spaced out, but she supposed she should’ve known that would happen after what happened last night. “In one of the games I participated in, I found this.” She handed him a folded piece of paper, and he accepted it carefully, like it might dissolve under his fingers. “I was up against a person that time, and they dropped this once we won. I’m already sure it means something, but I also want your input on it.”

It was…a mess. It was a circle with scribbles and lines like sunbeams drawn using a blunt pen. Was this…art? Was this someone’s idea of therapy? It looks like something a bored student would doodle in the corner of a math test. Or something Kokichi would draw just to make fun of maps. “Look, Shuichi, it’s a guide to my heart—” No, wait. Nevermind. It didn’t seem that funny anymore.

He tilted the page sideways, then upside down. Maybe it was meant to be viewed at an angle? What if this is some kind of secret code? Ah, no. It still looks like a crayon tantrum. Kyoko wouldn’t have brought this to him if it was completely meaningless. She wasn’t the type to waste time on nonsense.

Alright… It’s not a sun nor art. Maybe it’s symbolic? But if it was symbolic, why does it feel so…frantic? The lines weren’t elegant or clean. They’re messy and impatient, like someone scratching at a desk during a panic attack. They curled and intersected like a pile of worms trapped in a bucket. Some of them crossed one another, others looked like they looped back. It almost resembled a maze, or spaghetti (angry spaghetti) inside and outside the bowl.

And then, it clicked.

This pattern… He’s seen it before. He inclined his head slightly, the paper bending a bit in his fingers. Back in the city, before the Borderlands, that one time he took the wrong train because he forgot how to read signs and ended up stranded for three hours…

Ah! The subway map! That’s what this looks like! A subway map but drawn by someone who was panicking and had five seconds to remember everything before being shot at. And the longer he stared, the more it made sense.

”...Shuichi.”

He jerked slightly. “What?”

Kyoko stood still, arms folded like shutters on a locked window. “I asked what you think. About the paper.”

“Ah… I think it’s a map,” he said quietly.

“Hm, that’s what I thought as well, but I’m not sure which map.” She hummed thoughtfully.

He hesitated, still staring at the paper. “It’s…it’s a map to the subways.”

Makoto perked up from where he was fiddling with the stubborn packaging of another ration bar. “The subways?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, more confidently now, “I’m almost sure of it.”

“What makes you so certain?” She asked bluntly.

”Mm,” he looked at the drawing again. “It looks kind of messy at first, but the shape reminded me of those maps you see in the stations. The circle in the middle looks like a central hub or transfer point, and these lines going out from it are like the train routes.”

Kyoko leaned in to see it. “But there are no names or station indicators.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be accurate,” he replied. “It’s probably drawn from memory. Like someone just needed a quick reference or reminder of where they’d been.”

Makoto tapped one of the wavy lines. “Could it lead somewhere? Maybe a way out?”

Everything went quiet in the conversation all of a sudden. Could this really lead to the exit of the Borderlands?

Kyoko grabbed the paper from Shuichi’s hands, folded it, and shoved it in her pocket. “Then we check. If there’s even a chance it’s useful, we’ll find one of the entrances.”

Makoto quickly stood up from his spot. “Let’s go, then!”

**********************************************

It’s quiet down here.

They’d been walking for a while. Maybe thirty minutes, or more. It was quite hard to tell. Every few seconds, one of them would accidentally kick a piece of trash, a bottle cap, a coin, a rock and it would rattle ahead before skidding to a stop. Since the electricity still didn’t work, the only light came from the flashlights they carried.

Shuichi’s legs started to ache. His shoes weren’t made for this kind of walk, and the deeper they went, the more it felt like they were going nowhere. This place felt bigger than he remembered, and it was almost hard to navigate through with the area being this dark without good light. The walls looked the same wherever they went, gray and smeared, with posters peeling off and black mold growing in patches.

He glanced at Kyoko, who walked like this was routine. And Makoto who was ahead of them, swinging his flashlight left and right like he expected something to pop out. He let out a sigh, fixing his eyes down to adjust the flashlight in his hand. The battery was starting to fade, so the light blinked every so often.

Then finally, Kyoko raised her hand. “Here,” she said.

Beside her, Shuichi stared at the unmarked metal door that looked like a corpse propped upright. And the keypad, long dead, was its useless tongue. Makoto gave the door a nudge, and it opened with a low creak.

It was a massive security room, flooded with monitors that should’ve been alive with footage. Instead, they were dead. Plenty of chairs, too. But it lacked the people who sat on them.

”Whoa…” Makoto’s eyes broadened.

Kyoko narrowed her eyes to slits. “So this is what the map led us to.”

“But nobody’s here,” he pointed out. “They just left this place behind?”

She crossed her arms firmly. “Or they moved somewhere else. Either way…it’s too central to be meaningless.”

Shuichi swept his flashlight slowly across the room, and each screen was black, stacked high across the wall like a digital graveyard. He shifted his feet, making the sound of soles scuffing against the floor. Then,

”You actually found this place.”

The voice came from somewhere across the room. Startled, Shuichi whipped the flashlight toward the sound. The light caught movement: two figures stepping out from the shadows of the doorway across from them.

And there entered Kokichi and Miu.

Kokichi strolled in with the confidence of someone who’d been waiting there the whole time. A bright, too-happy smile spread across his face. He chimed, “As expected from someone I have high hopes for!”

Shuichi lowered his flashlight slightly, eyes locked on Kokichi as he and Miu casually paced around the room, as if they owned the place.

“How are you, Shuichi?” He asked, flashing a toothy grin. “I hope you’re still not mad at me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He knitted his brows, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress the heat in his chest. Then, Kokichi reached into his jacket and pulled something out–a deck of cards. The very one he had stolen back at the Mark of the City.

“Thanks to you,” Kokichi said brightly, fanning the cards slightly, “I have all the number cards now. Isn’t that great?” His beam widened. “I owe you one.”

Shuichi’s mouth twitched, but before he could speak, Kyoko intervened. “How did you find this place? Are you a dealer?”

“Me? A dealer?” he gasped. “You wound me. How could you say such a thing, Kyoko? I’m a very innocent boy.” He laughed, spinning the deck in his hand before sliding it back into his pocket. Then he reached into the other one, pulling out something smaller. It looked eerily similar to the one Kyoko had shown Shuichi earlier. It was worn, folded, and scribbled with wavy lines inside and out of a circle.

“Took me a while to realize this was a subway route map,” he remarked, waving it slightly. “Who knew those weird little doodles would actually lead here?”

******

A moment later, the lights vanished, plunging everything back into shadows. Kokichi sat in the blood-smeared checkered room, humming a tune to himself, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket like a thief preparing for a heist.

He approached the dead tagger and searched her pockets casually, treating her as if she were just another discarded item. Eventually, he found a folded piece of paper and tilted his head, unfolding it to see what it contained.

It was a roughly drawn, abstract design or sketch on it that appears to be a series of interconnected, curved lines forming a circular pattern. The drawing consists of a series of curved, intersecting lines that form a central, circular or web-like pattern. The lines appear to radiate outwards, creating a tangled, intricate design that lacks any clear, recognizable shapes or symbols. He tilted his head in curiosity as he wondered why such a drawing had something to do with something like this.

******

Makoto’s eyebrows creased in thought. “Uh… what would happen if we collected all the playing cards?”

Kokichi let out an exaggerated sigh, lips curling into a pout as he tucked the paper back. “I thought I’d know the answer after I got here.” His voice was less playful now, more thoughtful, as he slowly walked across the room. He stopped next to Shuichi close, but not too close. His eyes were still sharp despite the lazy tilt of his smile. “But there’s only one thing I found out.”

Shuichi turned his head slightly toward him. “That they’re not masterminds.”

”Right,” his smile tugged higher, almost proudly. He casually glanced down, letting the others follow his gaze. And there lied a dead body near the far end of the room, partially obscured by a desk. Makoto and Shuichi instinctively stepped back, but Kyoko, however, didn’t move. “Nishishi… Just judging from the fact that they were all killed after our victories, of course. They’re humans like us. And on top of that…” He turned his gaze upward, toward the tall wall of dead monitors. “There’s someone above them.”

Shuichi stared at the body, then slowly let his eyes wander. His gaze passed over wires, chairs, machines…and then landed on Miu. She stood silently at the side with one hand on her hip without a cocky smirk or any swears leaving her mouth.

Makoto rubbed his thumb against his chin. “But…who is it?”

Kokichi offered a nonchalant shrug. “Who knows? Could be anyone,” he paused. “Aliens, maybe.”

Shuichi turned his head, and Kokichi turned his, at the exact same time. Their eyes locked immediately, and in that moment, the room seemed to disappear–no Makoto, no Kyoko, no dead bodies slumped behind them. Neither of them spoke word to the other verbally, but it almost felt like they were communicating telepathically. The silence between them was loaded like a chambered gun, brimming with half-truths, splintered promises, and one-sided trust. Seconds felt like hours, and hours felt like years.

Shuichi stared at Kokichi as if trying to count every lie he’d ever told him and Kokichi stared back like he already knew the total.

Without warning, every light overhead flickered on, flooding the once-shadowed room in blinding fluorescence. All around them, the monitors turned on in unison with a white screen. Then, one by one, a label bloomed into view:

”SPECIAL URGENT BROADCAST.”

Beneath the text, four crisp symbols materialized: the spade, the diamond, the club, and the heart.

But then it changed. Now, displayed a woman seated on an elegant chair. She had long blue hair that fell in gentle ocean waves past her shoulders, and a familiar pair of glasses perched on her nose. A flowing gown shimmered around her, like she was dressed for a celebration, not an announcement of death.

”Oh, crongratulations, everyone!” She chirped from the screen. She gave a small, gleeful wave, then tilted her head with an oddly childlike curiosity. She just stared at the camera for a moment, smiling as if posing for a family photo.

Kokichi was the first to move, as he casually stepped to the side for a clearer view of the woman’s face. Kyoko followed without a word, her arms behind her back. Makoto and Shuichi trailed behind, slower, and tenser. Miu was already up front and her eyes narrowed into sharp slits.

“What the fuck?” she mumbled, barely under her breath.

“Well, would you look at that?” Kokichi smirked. “It’s Tsumugi Shirogane.”

“Excluding the face card games, you’ve all managed to make it through the numbered ones with...such impressive success,” she dragged each syllable with performative flair. “Quite the victory, don’t you think? So many lives lost along the way... How sweet, how tragic.”

She stood from her chair and paced slowly across the screen, hands clasped in front of her. ”I wonder how many of your comrades died?”

“Think back…to the ones shot. To the girl you set on fire. To those who drowned. To the ones who were shot in the head by a laser, or whose skulls were blown clean off. Those comrades of yours…how does it feel?” She spoke softly. “All that grief. All that despair. And those moments…those death throes you’ll never forget.”

Some of the monitor screens started to flicker with recorded footage of players killing each other during their games. One of them makes Shuichi’s eyes widen like the size of dinner plates. It was thatmoment. He could still hear the crackling sound of Kaito’s head exploding right before his very eyes before he slumped to the ground. He’d probably be in a worse state if he watched both Kaito and Kaede die before him.

She stopped pacing and faced the screen, extending her arms toward the camera, grinning as if offering a toast. ”I’m plainly overwhelmed by your perseverance! Such dedication. Now, we have a little gift for you…”

She bounced on her heels like a girl at a birthday party.

“Ohhh! I just can’t take it any longer! There will be new games!” she cried. “Oh, we’ll play them together, alright? You’ll fight for face cards!”

Miu scoffed from her place in front. “New games? Screw that.”

Tsumugi laughed, high-pitched and light. It was strange, how it suited her...until it kept going. Now louder, a bit more frayed, and more hysterical.

“There’s still so much more in store for you all...so much to look forward to! Isn’t that just wonderful? I hope you’re all excited!”

Makoto spoke up. “Tsumugi… Is she the mastermind?”

“I’d rather see a fucking alien appear on the screen,” Miu spat.

Her laugh pitched again, teeth showing in a grin that didn’t match her words. Then she stopped, cleared her throat with a polite “Ahem,” and smoothed her gown.

“Anyways! The next stage will commence tomorrow, sharp at noon.” She opened her arms wide once more. “Let’s have some fun together!”

”So,” Makoto sighed, “we have to fight again?”

”Correct,” Kyoko nodded, “but this time, there’s a difference.”

Shuichi continued for her. “This time, we can finally see who we’re up against.”

**********************************************

The moment noon hit, the words “NEXT STAGE START” appeared in bold white letters across the giant screen looming over Shibuya Crossing. But…nothing else followed. No explanation, rules, or even a countdown. Just the five of them–Shuichi, Makoto, Kyoko, Kokichi, and Miu–standing in the middle of an empty city square under that cold message.

Shuichi kept staring at the screen. “…None of the games started yet.”

”Maybe we still have time,” Makoto said.

Kokichi leaned back on his heels, twisting his purple hair in his fingers. “Or maybe someone just forgot to press the big red ‘go’ button.”

Miu was sitting on the pavement, one leg stretched out, the other bent, cigarette pressed between her lips. “Didn’t even tell us what the hell this one’s about. Just threw up a screen and left. What a bunch of dickless freaks.”

While they talked, Kyoko’s focus was elsewhere. She kept glancing around, not just casually. Her eyes scanned rooftops, alleys, the gaps between buildings. Like she was listening for something they couldn’t hear.

Miu caught her. “The fuck you lookin’ for?”

“I hear something.” She stepped ahead, toward the far side of the intersection where a few abandoned cars were sitting idle. The others followed her: Miu dusting off her pants, Makoto and Shuichi falling in line, and Kokichi skipping behind like this was some kind of field trip.

Nothing looked different at first, but then the silence broke as the sound of engines echoed. Not one, but multiple. Suddenly, cars appeared from down the road, forming a line as they slowly rolled into the crossing.

Makoto’s eyes lit up. “Everyone else is alive!”

Survivors from the Mark of the City were piling out of the cars, at least thirty of them. Familiar faces from the Mark. From the Ten of Hearts. From hell. They parked and gathered, some looking around like they were already bracing for a fight.

Shuichi stepped toward one of them, and his eyebrows drew. “What are you doing here?”

The man shrugged, pointing his chin toward the sky. “We saw the blimps. People said the next game’s starting.”

”Right…” He nodded slowly and glanced back at the screen. “Wait, blimps—?”

Bang!

Shuichi jolted as his words got abruptly cut off, blood spraying across his cheek. The man in front of him dropped like a ragdoll, his skull pierced clean through by a bullet. His body hit the ground with a loud, sickening thud.

Bang!

A woman standing next to the man screamed–just once–before her head jerked back violently, and her knees gave out. Her body folded over as she collapsed beside the first victim. Shuichi took a shaky step back, hand reaching forward instinctively, but he wasn’t fast enough to save anyone.

Bang!

A third body dropped.

Bang! Bang!

A fourth. Then a fifth. More gunshots began echoing down the deserted streets like a warning bell from hell itself.

“Sweet. A rifle,” Kokichi mused lightly, tilting his head. The weird part wasn’t just his tone, it was how he knew exactly what kind of weapon it was just from the sheer force of the shot.

Makoto’s voice broke out. “What’s happening?!”

Kyoko suddenly grabbed his wrist tightly, tugging him forward. “Get moving!”

“That thing’s an anti-tank rifle,” Kokichi added, more amused than alarmed. “So I suggest we don’t hide behind cars.”

“Quit yapping and run, you fucking dumbass!” Miu snarled, darting forward. Her boots kicked up bits of gravel and ash as she kept pace beside Kyoko and Makoto.

The five of them took off running, feet slamming against the ground of Shibuya Crossing. Shuichi followed them, and Kokichi closed by his side. But his steps slowed, only for a second, as another person ahead collapsed with a thud. The man had been sprinting, trying to reach cover, and then suddenly his chest had erupted in a blossom of blood. He dropped so quickly it was like watching someone cut down a tree with a chainsaw.

Shuichi’s stomach twisted, and his legs moved before he could think. They darted to the side and skidded behind a thick metal generator shoved up against the street corner. It stank of rust and oil, and the surface was still warm from the afternoon sun.

Miu tossed her cigarette onto the ground, breathing shakily. “Does this mean the game started?”

Makoto crouched beside her with his back pressed to the metal. “I…I don’t know.”

“They didn’t even give us rules! This is rigged!” she barked frantically. “Without rules, this is just a fucking massacre!”

Kyoko peeked around the corner and her eyes scanned every rooftop, every alley, every shadow. She signaled: move. So they ran again. Shots rang out behind them, one right after another. Not single cracks, but bursts.

“You know,” Kokichi started cheerily, keeping pace, “that rifle can blow your organs apart from a kilometer away.”

“It’s not just any rifle. I hear an assault rifle,” Kyoko added.

“Nishishi… You know your guns.”

Shuichi ignored him. “We don’t even know how many there are. There could be multiple shooters!”

They pressed up behind a corner, ducking under a broken awning. Ahead, people were starting to move in clusters. Shuichi watched helplessly as one group tried to stay together, only for a girl in the middle to suddenly collapse from a shot to the back. All of a sudden, the shooter managed to shoot at the car, forcing smoke to rise. Then people started running toward them. Survivors–panicking and stampeding. That was clearly bad. They would draw attention.

“Some are coming this way! We have to go!” Kyoko shouted, and bolted in the opposite direction without looking back.

Makoto followed alongside Miu. Shuichi glanced once more at the madness behind them and then took off too. Kokichi was beside him the whole time with a crooked grin plastered on his face. When they peeked out again, someone hurled a smoke canister near a car. It hissed, blinding white flooding the air. The car it landed under started sparking, and then smoke poured from its hood–then fire.

They ran through smoke and ash, coughing, and their eyes stinging. The gunshots were louder and closer. A scream ripped open behind them, followed by a wet crack, then the body hit the ground so hard it bounced. Shuichi didn’t have time to process it, and simply reacted. He vaulted over it like it wasn’t even there.

“Too many people!” Kyoko yelled. “We need to split up!”

Shuichi veered right on instinct. He heard the others scatter: Miu and Makoto going left, Kokichi following Kyoko into the thick of the alleys. Now it was just him. He ran past shuttered storefronts and overturned trash bins.

Why am I running away? To live, of course.

Where am I going? Nowhere. Anywhere. Just away.

He ducked behind a row of rusted vending machines, knees nearly buckling as he crouched low with his hands over his head. He peeked out, and lying on the ground were crumpled bodies. People he’d seen earlier, some from the Mark, and some he hadn’t even had time to speak to. Then, a loud crack sounded down the road–a man’s skull burst open like a dropped watermelon and blood misted the air. So Shuichi turned and sprinted again, letting his legs take control.

Turning left, a shortcut? Maybe. He dashed through a narrow gap between buildings, barely squeezing through. The alley smelled like piss and smoke. Yuck. He emerged back onto the main street, and for a moment, he was out in the open again. He flinched and darted toward the side, ducking under a tilted billboard frame and crawling behind a concrete wall. He peered around the side, squinting into the blinding daylight, trying to trace the sound. Still no visible shooter, so there’s still no way to tell where the next bullet would come from.

Shuichi’s legs didn’t want to move, but staying here wasn’t an option. People were being picked off just for standing still. He kept running and running, and no matter where he went, there were always people being shot. Then there was a staircase ahead. One of those long outdoor ones that curved alongside a sloped street. He took off with his feet slapping the ground, each step sounding louder than he wanted it to be. He scrambled up the last few steps, nearly stumbling at the top. The area opened into a wide stretch of city with multiple streets, tall buildings, and a plaza-like intersection crowded with fleeing people. His eyes darted frantically across the skyline, down alleys, at the blinking signs and broken windows. There weren’t any safe spots or good cover, so he turned a corner—

“Yoo-hoo! Shuichi, over here!”

Shuichi’s head whipped up and Kokichi stood further down the sidewalk, one arm waving high like he was greeting an old friend at a festival, not standing in a warzone. For a moment, he was hesitant to join him on the run. But another sharp bang! forced the decision out of him.

As soon as he reached him, Kokichi spun on his heel and the two of them ran together, hurrying down a stairwell that spiraled back into the street. They joined the swarm of people sprinting for their lives, as they turned down a sloping street with their feet pounding the asphalt. A car up ahead had crashed into a light post, sparks still spitting from the broken metal. Shuichi veered left to avoid it, Kokichi went right, then they met again at the corner. He kept running, scanning for cover, when—

Bang!

Someone ahead of them suddenly staggered and dropped, face-first onto the concrete. Shuichi's eyes widened as instinct kicked in. “Down!” he yelled.

He slid behind the nearest car, his back hitting the metal with a thunk. Kokichi was just behind him, but a sudden sharp whistle of another bullet forced him to juke sideways. He stumbled behind the next car over, crouching down. Shuichi and Kokichi exchanged a quick glance before Shuichi slowly peeked over the hood of the car, his gaze darting around until something across the road caught his eye.

There, hiding behind another abandoned car on the opposite side of the road, was Miu Iruma.

“What the hell? Are you trying to get yourself killed out there?!” she shouted across, just before a wild spray of bullets sent her ducking back down. “Where the fuck are they shooting from, anyway?!”

Kyoko crouched beside her, and Makoto crouched just behind, shielding them both the best he could.

Then came the rumble of something heavier, there was a sound that didn’t match the sound of gunshots.

Makoto was the first to glance up. “…Huh. He must be the King of Spades.”

Up in the hazy sky above the city, drifting slowly like some cruel celebration balloon, was a blimp. A massive banner hung beneath it, flapping lazily in the wind. And on that banner, bold and unmistakable: the King of Spades card.

“Psst. Shuichi.”

He snapped his head to Kokichi, just in time for something to hit him square in the forehead. It bounced into his lap with a metallic clatter. Blinking, he looked down and realized it was a…a soda can? No wait, there were wires that jutted from it haphazardly, and a bitter chemical smell made his nose crinkle. “Kokichi, what is this?”

“Oh, that? A little something I threw together. I already made one for myself, and I didn’t know what to do with the other. Soooo, you’re welcome! You get to keep it!”

Shuichi scowled. “Why would you give this to me?”

“Because I’m soooo nice and friendly!” He beamed like he was handing over a friendship bracelet, not an explosive device.

Shuichi sighed, pocketing the makeshift explosive. Then, he carefully peeked out. “…The gunshots stopped.” He glanced around once more for a quick double check. “Ah! Now’s our chance!”

He sprang out from behind the car and took off, Kokichi close behind. And mid-way across the road, his instincts suddenly screamed at him.

He snapped his head toward the road and saw smoke hissing up from the sidewalk, a cloaked man loading a long-barreled weapon.

He ran faster, veering sharply and throwing himself into the vehicle and crouched beside it, panting. Moments later, Kokichi slid in beside him, laughing breathlessly. “Did you see that guy? That’s one edgy motherfu—”

“Shuichi! Kokichi!” Makoto’s voice called from a few feet away. He and Kyoko were huddled with Miu behind another car. “Are you guys okay? Are you hurt?”

Shuichi opened his mouth to respond, but another bang rang out. A woman nearby collapsed, a shriek echoing in the air as everyone instinctively ducked. “…The King of Spades is…” He watched the cloaked figure calmly reload. “…just one person?”

Bang!

Kyoko spoke evenly, “We’re pinned down here.”

“Dummy, if we step out, he’ll turn us into swiss cheese,” Kokichi added with a scoff.

Suddenly, an engine roared in. The group turned just as a car skidded to a halt in front of them and the car window slid down. Behind the wheel sat Maki Harukawa, her face twisted like a wound pulled too tight, seething with fury that looked ready to tear through her skin. “Do you know how long it took to find you idiots?” She snapped. “Get in!”

”Maki!” The blonde gasped.

Another gunshot rang out dangerously close, so there was no time to argue. Makoto, Kyoko, and Miu bolted into the car first, diving for cover. Shuichi followed quickly, and Kokichi was about to climb in, but then a grenade landed right in front of the door.

“Oh, shit,” Kokichi mumbled under his breath. “You guys go! Toodles!” He pivoted and dashed the other way.

“Drive!!” Miu shrieked.

Maki slammed her foot on the gas, then the car screeched and accelerated down the street just as the grenade exploded behind them. Shuichi flinched and looked out the back window.

“Kokichi!!” he shouted, watching as Kokichi dove behind another car, the explosion flaring in his wake. He sat back in his seat, blinking. Why did he care so much? It’s stupid. He’s probably fine. He always is. Slippery, annoying, impossible to pin down…he’s probably off laughing somewhere. It shouldn’t matter, right? It’s not like they’re friends anymore after what happened at the Mark of the City, right? Maybe it’s because he got too attached easily. That’s a thing, right? People do that. Trauma, stress, whatever. It’s probably nothing.

The car tore down the ruined street, rattling violently with every pothole. Gunshots still echoed in the distance, but they were fading into the background now, which was good. The road stretched out ahead, the only sound being the harsh breathing of the engine and the occasional creak of the wheels as they rolled over broken pavement.

Makoto glanced over his shoulder. “Okay... I think we’re safe for now.”

Shuichi let out a long breath and leaned back, sweat slick on his skin. “Do you think Kokichi’s gonna be alright?”

“He can take care of himself,” Kyoko replied flatly.

Miu groaned, tugging at her hair. “Fuck, man. This might be the worst game yet! No rules, no warnings, and we didn’t even get to register!”

Makoto spoke firmly. “We just…have to take down the bad guys, right?”

“Just one,” Shuichi said, drawing their attention. “There’s only one King of Spades. I think he’s the boss of the physical challenges.”

Maki, her eyes still fixed on the road, added, “During the attacks… I saw a blimp. It was circling the city. That means the whole battlefield is in play now. The entire city.”

“Great. Just great,” Miu leaned back against the seat with a huff. “We’re screwed. We don’t even have weapons! That guy’s a fucking immortal!”

Makoto sighed heavily. “They really leveled up these next stages, huh?”

******

”Let’s have some fun together!”

******

”Now that I think about it, who is Tsumugi?” Makoto continued to speak. “Is she even human? I can’t believe we trusted someone like her to be a part of the council…”

”I’m not sure…” Shuichi leaned against the car window, looking around. “All I can say is she might be one of the masterminds.”

”Tsumugi? Mastermind?” Maki parroted, gazing at them through the car mirror.

”If our theory about the King of Spades is right, then each suit might have its own leader behind everything.” Shuichi deduced, straightening his back. “If we defeat them all then we just might be able to win and leave.”

That certainly got everyone’s attention since Makoto turned his head, his eyes widening penny round. “What?”

Miu had a similar reaction as she also looked at Shuichi with hope. “You mean we get to leave?”

The way everyone stared at him made him feel like thousands of little sparks were itching at his skin. Every eye in the car seemed to expect an answer. Why were they all looking at him like that? His deduction was a bit half-baked yet they seemed to believe it so quickly. He let out a breath, a fragile thing, before shaking his head slowly. “I…I’m not sure yet, but it’s our best chance to survive.”

******

The King of Spades, cloaked in dark fabric and grime, wasted no motion.

Across the street, the sharp whine of tires from a battered sedan sped down the road. A man and woman inside, panicked and unaware, were trying to escape the same nightmare everyone else was trapped in. In the middle of driving, the King of Spades suddenly stepped up in the middle of the road. The driver shouted, yanking the wheel to avoid him, making the sedan swerved hard. The entire vehicle slammed into a bent streetlight with a bone-rattling crunch and bounced back, skidding to a stop with a jolt. The couple inside was stunned, looking up ahead confusedly.

And then the driver blinked, just in time to see the passenger-side window explode inward.

Bang! Bang!

After they died, the King of Spades stepped inside the car, pushing the previous driver out. With a smooth flick of the wrist, the engine roared to life again. He reached over the blood-soaked passenger seat and picked up a long-barreled rifle. He sat it down across his lap, adjusted the mirror, and shifted into gear.

******

The car’s tires screeched in protest as Maki slammed her foot down on the gas. “Just because we get through all the face cards safely doesn’t mean we get to go back home. You don’t believe Junko’s bullshit, do you?”

”Yeah, but the next stage only kicked in after we’d gathered forty unique cards, just like she said,” Shuichi responded. “None of us knew a thing when we first arrived. We learned that winning games adds days to our Truth Bullets based on the number on the card. If they ever hit zero, a laser kills us.” He let out a long breath. “Junko says that getting a full deck will let us return home. At least the rules are clear enough.”

Kyoko closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “You just want it to be true.”

Shuichi’s brows knit together. “No… it’s more than that. There’s a pattern to it. It might’ve seemed insane at first, but there’s always been rules.”

Before anyone could respond, the unmistakable roar of an engine erupted behind them. The King of Spades’ car had closed the gap. The bullet hit the side of the road, sending sparks flying, but it was enough to make everyone in Maki’s car duck instinctively. She cursed under her breath and swerved sharply to the left. The car careened dangerously, the tires screeching against the asphalt as they tried to outmaneuver the King of Spades.

”Ah, fuck!” She cursed as she tried to regain control of the car, her eyes darting between the road ahead and the mirror.

”Drive better, you thot!” Miu yelled from the passenger seat, gripping the seatbelt like it was the only thing keeping her from flying out the window.

Maki rolled her eyes but didn’t let up on the speed. “You want me to drive better? Fine,” she snapped, pushing the pedal down even further, making the car lurch forward.

Their car zipped through a narrow gap between two old delivery trucks, nearly clipping the mirror off. In the back seat, Kyoko braced herself against the window while Makoto nearly toppled over onto Shuichi. The vehicle rocked dangerously every time Maki swerved, but she never let off the gas. But the King of Spades stayed behind their tail, following after them and occasionally extending out his gun.

The group shot through an intersection, nearly skimming a collapsed light post. Maki veered left, tires skidding across broken glass, then suddenly made a brutal U-turn around a flaming barricade. But to their avail, the King of Spades still followed them around the barricade, then fired again.

A bullet pierced the passenger-side mirror, blowing it clean off. Miu shrieked and ducked as another bullet cracked the windshield, sending shards flying inward. Makoto cried as he gripped the seat in front of him, “This guy is insane!”

Maki growled low in her throat. “He wants a chase? He gets a fucking chase.”

She slammed the gear and made a sharp right, nearly flipping the car as they turned down a narrow alley between two crumbling buildings. Behind them, the King of Spades drifted into the alley, bumping into one of the walls but barely slowing down. Maki burst out of the alley and back onto the open road. She shot forward between a line of long-dead, stalled cars. Then, a toppled bus forced her to slam the brakes and swerve hard.

They clipped the corner of a taxi. The back bumper ripped off, but she kept going. “He’s still gaining!” Shuichi called out, watching in horror as the King of Spades’ car swerved out from behind the bus.

“Not for long,” Maki hissed. After a few more moments of driving and trying to avoid the King of Spades, she threaded their car through a tight gap between two abandoned delivery trucks. The side mirrors scraped against the sides and sparks flew. The road bent sharply ahead, a ramp leading up to a higher street level. She took it without slowing, making the car launch into the air. Everyone screamed–except her, of course. The vehicle slammed back down onto the cracked road, bouncing violently.

“God—!” Makoto was half-curled up, arms shielding his head, while Kyoko stayed silent but kept her head low.

The King of Spades’ car barreled up the ramp, and it hit the ground harder than theirs. Miu looked like she was on the verge of exploding. “Fuckin’ hell, he’s still on us!”

Maki bit her lip. “I know.”

They swerved again, and Shuichi’s head slammed against the window once, while Makoto barely managed to grab the headrest to avoid tumbling into Kyoko. But the King of Spades persisted, bullets pinged off nearby wreckage and left fresh holes in their bumper.

“He’s trying to shoot out our tires!” Shuichi shouted.

“I noticed,” Maki grunted, sweat beading on her temple.

They sped into an underpass, and a bullet struck the top of their car, and another one ripped through the taillight. She took another left turn, there was a brutal drift through a roundabout littered with overturned trash bins. The car skidded hard but stayed upright (for now.)

“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die,” Miu mumbled repeatedly.

They burst out of the underpass, and Maki froze. There was a stalled van directly ahead. She didn’t have any time to turn the car, so she was left with no choice as they slammed into the vehicle.

Their car flipped once, twice then landed upside down. For several seconds, no one moved. Then, coughing came.

Makoto crawled out first, his lip bleeding and knees scraped raw. “Hey, is everyone okay?!”

Shuichi groaned, slowly pulling himself out through a broken door. “I- I think so…”

Blood ran down the side of Maki’s face as she kicked open her door and climbed out, strangely composed despite the wound above her brow. Miu stumbled after them, limping. “Yeah, I’m alive,” she gripped her neck. “I twisted my neck. And broke a fucking nail.”

All of a sudden, another gunshot cracked through.

Maki ducked instinctively, feeling the wind rush past her as the bullet missed her by inches. Without another thought, she ran off on her own, leaving the others behind. She heard one of them call for her name, so she told them in her mind, ’No! I’ll be fine on my own. Save yourself instead!’. She hoped somehow they got the idea.

Meanwhile, the others were still running, too. Makoto ran just behind Shuichi, who kept stealing glances over his shoulder to make sure the others were still close. Miu stumbled once over a curb but caught herself with a choked curse, gripping her side and pushing forward while Kyoko led the way.

”Keep going!” Shuichi shouted breathlessly, not even sure if anyone heard him.

Street after street passed under their feet. It was like they’ve been running a whole marathon. They passed by a small overpass, an abandoned plaza, and a collapsed newsstand, not slowing even as their breath came faster and heavier. Shuichi barely noticed the pain in his legs anymore. The only thing that mattered was putting distance between them and the gunshots.

Finally, after half an hour of nonstop running, Kyoko spotted a half-buried entryway beneath a crumbling apartment complex. She gestured for them to follow and led them down a short concrete ramp that opened into what looked like an old underground storage garage.

Shuichi was the last to enter, his legs nearly giving out beneath him as he let the still intact door swing shut behind them. He slid down with his back to the nearest wall with knees drawn up slightly as he tried to catch his breath. Sweat clung to his skin, and every inch of his body ached. It was like he was back in the Mark of the City again, back in that cramped room. He tried not to think of it, and instead thought of how he never should’ve denied Kaito’s insistence on hitting the gym with him.

Makoto followed suit, collapsing onto a pile of abandoned crates with a deep, shuddering exhale. “We made it…barely.”

”How far… How far did we run?” Shuichi panted.

”Far enough.” Kyoko stood near the entryway for a few moments, as if making sure they weren’t being followed, then slowly walked over to join them as she sat down.

“Fuuuuck me, I think my spine’s permanently curved now,” Miu groaned, rubbing her shoulder. She kept silent for a few moments then suddenly started pacing with a scowl on her face. “She just- she just fucking ran! Like- like a goddamn raccoon when a light turns on!”

Kyoko looked up. “We all saw.”

”What the hell was that?!” She paced harder and kicked a loose can that rattled across the floor. “That stupid bitch!”

“She must’ve panicked,” Shuichi reasoned. “The shots may have caught her off guard.”

“She panicked? Maki Harukawa panicked?” She laughed bitterly, her hands twitching as if she couldn’t decide whether to scream or punch the wall. “What if she’s dead now, huh? What if that King of Spades guy just blew her head off because she ran like an idiot?”

After a few more steps, Miu’s pace slowed. Her energy started fading, replaced by exhaustion. She let out a breath that shook more than she wanted it to.

“She better not be fucking dead…” And with that, she sank down onto the cold floor beside the others with her arms crossed tight.

Makoto pulled his knees to his chest, and his shirt tucked to his back with sweat. “I…hope Kokichi’s safe too. He jumped off before he could get in the car last time we saw him, right? Maybe he found somewhere to hide. He’s…resourceful.”

Miu let out a sharp laugh that quickly turned into a groan. “Pffft, Kokichi? Who cares about that idiot?” She flailed a hand lazily. “He’s probably fine. Cockroach-ass weirdo’s too slippery to die like the rest of us. He’ll fake being dead, then jump out of a dumpster just to mess with us.”

Makoto gave her a tired glance, not even sure whether to agree or defend Kokichi. Instead, he just looked back down at his shoes, fingers loosely interlaced. After a while of resting, Kyoko stood up. “Whether we like it or not, we might be here for a while. If we’re going to stay hidden, we need supplies. Water first, then food.”

“Come on, I just laid down!” She flopped her head against a broken piece of drywall.

Shuichi nodded in agreement with Kyoko. “The longer we wait, the higher the chance he finds us again. It’s not just about comfort, we don’t even know how long this shelter will last.”

“Ugh, fine!” She huffed, dragging herself upright. “I’ll go see if there’s a new car out there that isn’t on fire or full of fuckin’ bullet holes. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find one with A/C.”

“You two handle the food and water. Don’t take unnecessary risks, we’re not splitting up far.” Kyoko glanced at Shuichi and Makoto, and moved toward the garage entrance, then glanced over her shoulder at Miu. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t ditch us and go hunting for narcotics again.”

“Oh my god, I swear to Junko’s rotten tits, that was one> time!” She shouted, throwing her arms up, but following anyway. The remaining two glanced at each other before heading to a different direction.

The parking garage came into view only after a good ten-minute walk down roads and sidewalks.

“Ugh, nothing but busted garbage,” Miu grumbled, kicking the tire of a crumpled sedan. “Would it kill the universe to leave me one single non-fucked thing?”

Her companion didn’t respond immediately, scanning her flashlight across another row. “Keep looking,” she said flatly. “It’s not impossible. Some people abandoned their cars before everything collapsed. If we’re lucky, one of them left something behind in a rush.”

“Pfft. I am luck,” she mumbled. “The universe just doesn’t know it yet.”

But a few minutes later, after turning a corner into a lower level of the garage, Miu froze. “Ohhh...my God.”

Kyoko stepped forward, raising her flashlight. Parked neatly between two columns was a sleek, high-end car that looked almost untouched. Midnight black, glossy, with no visible dents or cracks. The interior behind the window was clean, and there were no blood, trash, or even bullet holes.

“This thing is a damn masterpiece!” She shouted, practically skipping toward it. “Look at those curves! The symmetry! I’d lick the rims if I wasn’t afraid of tetanus. Hell, I still might!” She threw herself against the window, peering inside like a kid in front of a toy store. “Leather seats... Digital dash… This baby could outrun a helicopter in her prime.”

She watched her with the smallest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You think it still runs?”

“I know it runs,” she declared confidently. “This kind of rich-person toy is built to survive World War IV. Shit, the battery’s probably still good. Or at least easy to jump. These things run smoother than- well, never mind what I was gonna say.”

Miu went quiet after that, as her eyes lingered on the smooth dashboard inside.

”Wait, I just realized something about those slimey rich fucks,” she began, still looking at the car, “they’ve gotta be losing their damn minds in the Borderlands, huh?”

”Why do you say that?” Kyoko said.”

“Because everything they built their lives around is useless here. The money, the status, the fancy tech…it doesn’t mean jack shit anymore. They spent years fighting to be on top, and now they’re crawling through dirt just like us.”

Kyoko was quiet for a moment, uncertain whether to respond. Talking about feelings with Miu always felt like walking through a minefield of insults and wild tangents. But still…she sighed and rested her hand against the metal of the car. “You’re right. They had everything, and now they have nothing. But I’m not sure how to feel about that. I’ve seen enough blood and gore in my life to know that the rich aren’t exempt. But even so, I can’t help but think...it would’ve been nice to avoid all this.”

Miu looked over at Kyoko, arching an eyebrow. “Avoid all this? You mean like, go back to being a regular detective, solving crimes and blowing your suspects?”

”...Something like that.”

”Well,” she said, “I’d consider myself lucky. I don’t gotta think about rent anymore or which debt collector’s gonna call me next.”

”But you wouldn’t have any proper food, water, electricity, or even safety,” she bluntly replied.

”Fair…but home was still better than this. I’d killto get back to our world.”

That was something Kyoko could agree to. “We’ll get back. Somehow.”

Then Miu pushed off the car with a half-hearted shrug and smirk. “Well, if I’m gonna die here, at least let me die in style. I’m taking this baby with me.”

”Assuming it still runs,” she reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. “Pfft. You doubt me? Gimme five minutes and I’ll have this beast purring.”

************************************************

The convenience store was quiet. It was pretty dark since the sun was almost starting to set, so they had to bring flashlights as well. Makoto headed toward the counter, hopping over it with a small grunt and aiming his light into drawers. “Feels like we’re really out here grocery shopping,” he joked under his breath.

Shuichi gave a small smile, quietly pushing a slightly squeaky cart like this was just another stop before dinner. He shined his light across a snack shelf and slowed. His eyes locked onto something familiar. It was a shelf stacked with Dynamite Curry Sticks. The label was wild and obnoxious, showing a cartoon chili pepper with a panicked face screaming: “Set your soul on fire! Literally!”

******

”Hey! These are the ones from the commercial! You remember ‘Set your soul on fire. Literally!’”

Shuichi blinked as Kaede proudly waved a bag of Dynamite Curry Sticks at them. Kaito leaned over the cart and squinted at the bag like it offended him.

”Kaede, you’ve got a death wish. That stuff tastes like regret and battery acid.”

Kaede smiled. “I beg to differ,” she declared, dramatically holding up the product like a game show prize. “Besides, they go great with rice.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Kaito groaned.

”That’s so uncalled for…!”

He huffed, “You better finish the whole bag yourself.”

Kaede tossed it into the cart anyway. “Shuichi’ll help. Right?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, I guess...one or two pieces.”

******

Shuichi reached forward slowly and picked up a bag of the curry sticks. Then another, and another. He began filling the cart with them, a small, quiet smile forming on his lips. Behind him, Makoto suddenly popped up from behind the counter.

“Cash or credit?” he called playfully.

The detective nearly jumped, then snorted under his breath, the sound morphing into quiet laughter. “I forgot what that sounded like,” he said. “Hm… Neither, but I’ll still take the receipt.”

They bagged up their haul in old plastic bags that crackled too easily. Makoto noticed the ridiculous snack Shuichi had taken. “Are these any good?”

He nodded, still smiling faintly. “Yeah. Someone I knew liked them a lot.”

Makoto didn’t press and placed the supplies he and Shuichi got in plastic bags. Once he was done, he tugged a smile and pretended to clock out. “Well, guess my shift’s over. I think we’re ready to close up.”

Shuichi nodded and walked over to the corner seating area, the one meant for students cramming over instant ramen and instinctively sat down. A soft smile graced his face, as he stared at the curry sticks in the bag. Then he said softly: “I can’t wait to get back. Back to a world where you could just eat, relax…hang out with your best friends.”

******

The three of them had crowded around a table just like this, Kaede prodding her curry stick after melting it in hot water into a bowl of rice while Kaito made exaggerated gagging noises. “You’re seriously eating that?”

”I don’t waste food,” she dramatically tossed her hair.

”You do waste your dignity.”

”Shuichi, tell him it’s good.”

He was mid-bite, eyes watering slightly. “It’s…unique.”

Kaito burst out laughing. “You liar!”

She beamed up, “That means it’s a win!”

******

“...Those were good times.” Shuichi looked at Makoto with a small but hopeful smile. “We’re gonna make it out of this. I know it.”

But he didn’t reply, which confused Shuichi for a moment and made him stand up. Makoto’s eyes were focused to the side, staring at a rack of convenience store magazines. One of them had a feature on a theme park opening soon. On the corner, an old ad: Family Discounts for Siblings!

”...Makoto?”

“I was just…thinking,” he swallowed, hesitating for a minute before he continued. “My sister, Komaru… Right before I ended up here, we split up. Just for the day. She was going to see a movie with her friends and I was supposed to meet her at the station. I remember checking my phone, then…I got here. I don’t know if she’s in the Borderlands or still out there. I don’t know anything,” then he sighed, “I hate not knowing.”

Shuichi stared at him. Then, gently, he scooted a bag of curry sticks over to Makoto’s side of the table. “I don’t know her, but I hope she’s okay. I hope she’s out there waiting for you.” His words made him blink fast, trying to push the sting away. “...I lost people too. Two, actually. They were loud and funny and annoying and perfect. It was really painful knowing I was the only one who got out.” He paused briefly. “We don’t know for sure. Maybe she’s safe, or maybe she’s still out there…maybe waiting for you. But either way, we’re going to survive this. And if she’s here, we’ll find her.”

Makoto looked down, then nodded slowly. “Thanks, Shuichi.”

Later, the sky was darkening fast. Shuichi and Makoto walked side by side down the cracked asphalt road with plastic bags rustling quietly in their hands.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a car engine. They both turned as headlights came into view and a sleek, beautifully preserved car rolled up beside them. The driver’s side window rolled down, and there sat Miu, grinning like she’d just hacked into heaven itself.

“Ohhh yeah, baby! Check her out!” She leaned an elbow out the window. “Bet your boring little brains didn’t expect to see this beauty again, huh?”

Shuichi blinked for a bit. “Wait…this is the car you found?”

“In the flesh! Or, uh, in the metal,” she said, smacking the side of the door affectionately. “Took a little Iruma magic, but she’s purring now. Honestly, she just needed someone with actual brains and a wrench.”

Kyoko leaned over from the passenger seat. “It was in near-perfect condition when we found it. Miu just refused to stop fiddling with it.”

“Yeah, and you’re welcome!” She huffed. “Without me, she would’ve stalled before she even blinked. The fuel lines were pathetic. But now? She’s perfect. Like me.”

Makoto let out a soft laugh. “Honestly, I’m impressed. You fixed this that fast?”

”Oh please. The Borderlands labeled me the Ultimate Inventor for a reason!” She guffawed boastfully. “Get in, losers. We’re cruisin’.”

Without hesitation, Makoto opened the back door and slipped in. “Sure beats walking.”

Shuichi stood for a second longer, glancing at the car again. It looked like it came straight from a different time–their time. Like something preserved from a better world. Then he got in, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Miu cracked her knuckles, shifted gears, and stepped on the pedal with a grin. “Buckle up, boys. I ain’t stopping ‘til the wheels fall off!”

Chapter 30: Jack of Hearts 7.2

Summary:

The symbol on your back looks disgustingly pretty, I can’t help but lie and tell you how gorgeously ugly it is. Please give our cast a round of applause! For a stage without lies will always just be an empty room.

Notes:

Surprise!! We’re skipping King of Clubs!!!

Cuz what if……I REALLY don’t know what to write for the King of Clubs☹️. Bear with me guys, I’m so sorry. I have shit persuasion skills but think of this as a good thing!! At least Makoto doesn’t have to die, right? :3

And now that that’s the case, we’ll be heading straight to Jack of Hearts. Hooray!! Kokichi screentime!!

TW!!: OC (Ahhh, I’m too lazy to draw right now. But just letting you know that I had absolutely no idea who to give Banda’s role to so the choice just came to an oc!)

__________________________________________

All of a sudden, a car skidded to a halt in front of them and the car window slid down. Behind the wheel sat Maki Harukawa, seething with fury that looked ready to tear through her skin.

”Do you know how long it took to find you idiots?” She snapped, her face twisting into a frown like a wound being pulled too tight. ”Get in!!”

”Maki!” Miu gasped, bolting into the car first after a gunshot rang dangerously close to the location. Makoto and Kyoko followed after her, diving for cover. Shuichi went quickly, and Kokichi was about to climb in, but then a grenade landed right in front of the door, making him pause.

”Oh shit,” he mumbled under his breath, ”you guys go! Toodles!” Then he pivoted and dashed the other way, ducking behind a nearby car before the explosion flared in its wake.

”Kokichi!!” Someone shouted, with the voice sounding eerily similar to Shuichi’s.

But before he had any time to register it, the grenade went off. Shards of metal bit into the car’s frame, the shockwave rattling Kokichi’s teeth as he ducked lower. Smoke and dust billowed outward, but the vehicle shielded him from the worst of it.

He blinked hard, coughing as acrid smoke stung his lungs. ”Ugh…so much for keeping my cute little eardrums intact…”

When the haze cleared a little, he risked a peek. The side of the nearby wall had a black scorch mark, a few windows cracked, but nothing collapsed. Still–grenade or not, it was enough to kill him if he’d been a step slower. Off in the distance, he caught sight of Maki’s car tearing down the road where the others were packed inside. He watched as it got smaller and smaller until he could no longer see it.

”Guess I’m on my own again. Boo-hoo.”

The humor barely made it past his lips before gunfire cracked again. He yelped, pressing flat to the wreck he was hiding behind. Fucking hell. He waited, biting down on his lip. When the gunfire paused, he counted under his breath. One…two…three. Nothing.

”Okay…coast is clear, probably…” he whispered, more to convince himself than anyone else. He crawled along the ground, ducking underneath the car’s shattered frame until he reached the other side. His hands shook as he pushed himself up, darting his eyes down the ruined street. He hesitated for a second before bolting out.

With his shoes slapping against the ground, he sprinted down the narrow side street. He moved in zigzags, forcing himself not to run in a straight line–because that was how you got shot in the head. His legs pumped faster than his brain could process. He dashed around a corner just in time to see a group of desperate players rushing across the intersection ahead.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Right in the head too! People don’t just aim like that unless they’ve done it a hundred times before. The King of Spades must be one fucked up psycho if he just blows people’s brains out like they’re nothing. What a sick bastard! Kokichi froze for a half-second, then immediately veered left, bolting down a narrower street instead. He even vaulted over a toppled motorcycle, nearly tripping when his foot snagged a hanging cable.

Up ahead, the street forked. The left was open but exposed. The right was cluttered with more obstacles, tighter but with more places to hide.

Kokichi didn’t hesitate to run up to the right trail, shoving himself in. He needed to get out of this city as soon as possible. But how? He couldn’t run forever. His legs weren’t made for a marathon, and every corner he turned only led to more wreckage. He needed something fast.

Like a car.

But where the hell was he going to find a working car in this mess? Half the vehicles he’d passed were wrecked beyond repair, with tires shredded or engines blown apart. And even if, by some miracle, he found one…there’s still the fact that he couldn’t drive!

”Ughhh, talk about unfair!” He groaned mid-sprint, but his eyes scattered wildly, searching for absolutely anything. Then, he caught something from the corner of his eye.

A lone figure fumbling nervously with the door of a dusty sedan parked half-hidden between two crumbling storefronts. The man didn’t look threatening. Harmless, even. What a complete jackpot! Kokichi cut across the street at full speed, beelining toward the car. The man slipped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. Before the engine could even turn over, Kokichi slammed both palms flat against the side window, pressing his face up against the glass with a smile that grew ear-to-ear.

”Hi, buddy!”

The driver nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a very unmanly squeak. His eyes bulged, darting to the side window where–good lord above–there was a boy grinning like a demon pressed against the glass.

Kokichi tapped the glass, wiggling his fingers before twirling them in a little roll it down gesture.

The guy hesitated, looking like he was debating whether to floor it and run Kokichi over instead. Slowly, hesitantly, he rolled the window down a crack.

He leaned in, smiling. ”Soooo…you look suuuuper non-threatening, which is wonderful news for me. I was just wondering…” He canted his head. “Would you, perhaps, possibly, pretty-please-with-a-gunpoint-cherry-on-top let me hitch a ride with you?”

The poor guy blinked at him. ”...What?”

”Y’know, inside,” he explained patiently, as though speaking to a child. He even mimed opening a door and sliding in. ”Me, passenger seat, or backseat, whatever. You drive us away from here, I don’t die horribly, and you get a delightful travel buddy. It’s a total win-win!”

The guy continued to stare at him, still internally debating with himself.

”Come on, don’t make me beg! That’s your job.” When no response came, he puffed his cheeks, tapping the glass again. ”Listen here, pal, I’m asking very, very nicely, so how about—”

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunfire split the air again, close this time; so close Kokichi could practically feel the vibration in his ribs. The driver’s eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face. In an instant, he reached over, unlocking the doors with a shaky hand. ”Get in, now!”

”Finally!” He cheered, flinging the back door open and throwing himself inside, like a rockstar stage-diving into the seat. The car jerked forward as the man stomped on the gas, tires squealing as they pulled away from the killing ground. Soon enough, the city shrank behind them. Kokichi wasted no time clambering into the passenger seat like it was the most natural thing in the world, buckling his seatbelt. ”There, safety first! Y’know, you could’ve saved us so much time if you’d just said yes the first time. I mean, look at me! Do I really look like a threat?”

”Um, yeah?” The guy kept his eyes glued to the road, as his knuckles went pale against the wheel. ”Are you going to kill me? Take the car for yourself?”

”Whaaat? Me? I would never!” He gasped markedly. ”I would only do that if I had the driver’s full, one-hundred-percent permission, and that driver’s name is…?”

The man glanced at him briefly, then back at the road. ”Uh, Kiibo Idabashi. I’m labeled the Ultimate Roboticist.”

For a moment, Kokichi just stared. Then he burst into hysterical laughter, doubling over in his seat. ”Pfft–that’s soooo boring! Oh man, a friend of mine would have her hands all over you if she ever met you.”

”...It’s not boring,” Kiibo shot him a sharp look.

He leaned back with a satisfied sigh, kicking his feet up on the dash. ”Aaaah, whatevs. You’re such a great chauffeur, Kiiboy!”

”Don’t call me that,” he glared at him from the corner of his eye, ”my name is Kiibo. Not…Kiiboy. And I am not your chauffeur.”

”Sure you are! You’re driving, I’m riding, we’re escaping certain death together–sounds like chauffeur duties to me! Maybe I should start tipping you?” He patted his pockets. ”Oh drats, I forgot money doesn’t have worth anymore in this hellhole. Oh well!”

”And you? Who even are you?”

”I thought you’d never ask!” He jabbed a thumb into his chest. ”I’m Kokichi Oma! The one, the only, the super extraordinary Ultimate Supreme Leader!”

”...Ultimate…Supreme Leader?”

”Yup! Isn’t it cool? Way cooler than ‘Ultimate Roboticist,’ let me you,” he laughed, ”I mean, what a snoozefest! All you do is build toys.”

Kiibo visibly bristled at the comment. ”They’re not toys! And I don’t believe for a second that you’re an actual supreme leader. That title sounds completely fabricated.”

”Whaaat?! Accusing me of lying already?! Kiiboy, we just met!” He faked a sniffle, dabbing at imaginary tears. “I never would’ve thought that things would develop so fast, y’know?”

”Fabricated or not, it’s ridiculous,” he said, “someone like you can’t possibly be a supreme leader.”

”Hooow dare you! I’ll have you know, my army of one trillion loyal followers would be devastated to hear that kind of slander!”

He blinked. “...One trillion? That’s more than the population of the planet.”

”Nishishi, exactly!” He wagged a finger in front of his face, almost distracting him from driving. “That’s how good I am at recruiting. People don’t even need to exist for me to get their loyalty!”

”That doesn’t even make any sense!”

”Doesn’t have to! Sense is boring, and I don’t do boring!”

”Then what do you do?”

”Wouldn’t you like to know, Kiiboy~” he sang, drawing out the syllables just to watch the vein in Kiibo’s forehead twitch.

”Stop doing that.”

”Doing what?”

”Being annoying!” he gritted his teeth, ”you’re going to get us killed before the King of Spades even finds us.”

“Ehhh, don’t be such a killjoy. You’re supposed to laugh at my jokes, Kiiboy,” he slouched back in his seat, “that’s, like, rule number one of being my chauffeur.”

”Just…please be quiet for five minutes,” he pleaded flatly.

Kokichi, naturally, took this as an invitation to ramp things up. “Five minutes? That's an eternity! What am I supposed to do, just sit here and think? My brain doesn't work that way, y’know?” He reached over and started fiddling with the radio, flipping through stations with manic energy. Static, a snippet of a polka song, a distorted news report, more static... “Ugh, this is all garbage! No bangers in this wasteland, huh?”

Kiibo winced as Kokichi landed on a station that sounded like a dying modem. ”Please, turn that off. My head is already pounding from hearing your voice alone.”

”Nishishi!”

Later, the car rattled over a pothole, but Kokichi hardly noticed. His chin rested against his hand, as his violet eyes scanned the sky outside the window. Up there, like some carnival display, floated the zeppelins. Each one carried a banner with its respective suit and number, fluttering proudly in the wind like invitations to a funeral.

For some reason, this felt familiar. Not the zeppelin shit and borderland business, no. Being in the same room with someone who has a nerdy Ultimate and a weirdass ahoge on their head. Yeah, totally that. He wondered if he’d somehow end up betraying Kiibo just like he had done with poor Shuichi. Because that’s what always happened to the people around him; they either get betrayed or just die.

His thoughts were cut short by Kiibo clearing his throat. ”So… Kokichi,” he said carefully with his eyes still on the road, ”do you think we should try playing in a face card game?”

He blinked, then broke into a grin. ”Obviously! You’re finally speaking my language, my dear Kiiboy. If we take out every face card guy out there, we might actually get to leave this dump. And when we do, I’m throwing the biggest victory party ever!”

His lips pressed into a thin line. ”You sound…disturbingly excited about this.”

”Well duh! What else do you expect from me?” He rested his chin on the open window frame. He stuck his hand out, lazily feeling the rush of the air as the car sped forward.

”Fine,” Kiibo said, ”then…who do we fight first?”

Kokichi stretched, sticking his head out the window, like a dog sniffing the air. The wind tousled his already wild hair as he pressed a hand over his eyes like a sailor. Then, his grin widened. He jabbed his finger toward a nearby zeppelin. ”Ohhh, bingo. The nearest one’s riiight over there–the Jack of Hearts.”

”The Jack of Hearts?” He frowned instantly. ”Do we really have to go straight into one of those? They’re…dangerous. Psychological games tend to be the hardest to predict.”

He plopped back into his seat. ”That’s what makes it more fun, of course!”

”Isn’t there anything else nearby? A Clubs game, maybe? Teamwork-based challenges would be easier to strategize for,” he said.

He leaned halfway out the window again as his eyes darted from one zeppelin to the next. After a moment, he pulled back in with a lazy shrug. ”Nope. Everything else is way too far. Unless you wanna drive until we run out of gas, this is the hand we’ve been dealt.”

”…Do we even have to play right away?” Kiibo pressed, glancing sideways at him. ”We could regroup, plan, or find allies—”

”Thank you for your wonderful input, Kiiboy!” He abruptly interrupted him. ”That’s true and all but the sooner we take out the face cards, the better. Right?”

”But could we at least go tonight? We’ll find a temporary place to rest for a while first and play the Jack of Hearts afterwards. How does that sound?”

Kokichi tapped his cheek thoughtfully, showing the oh-so deep contemplation in his face. ”Tonight? Hmmmm… I guess it’s worth a shot,” he answered, inspecting his nails lazily. ”Okay, Kiiboy! I suddenly remembered that my poor legs need immediate rest and care after running so much, so we’re going to take a quick break before playing!”

”Wow, you actually agreed. I didn’t know you’d be so easily convinc—”

”Hey, look, is that a bird?”

********

The night didn’t take long. Soon enough, the car rolled to a stop just outside the looming prison complex. The metal gates stood wide open, as though inviting–or daring–them to enter.

Kokichi hopped out first, stretching his arms over his head. ”Welp, here we are, Kiiboy! Jail time! Always knew I’d end up in prison one day. Just thought it’d be for tax fraud, not…whatever this is.”

Kiibo followed reluctantly, shutting the car door with more care than necessary. ”This place doesn’t…feel right.”

”Relax! When does anything here feel right? He tucked his hands into his pockets as he strolled through the gates.

The inside was sterile, unsettlingly so. A single, long white hall stretched before them. No dust, no dirt, not even a scuff on the floor. It was so clean, like someone had wiped it down only minutes ago. At the far end, a single white table stood waiting, lonely with a neat spread of black collars. Each one was heavy-looking, curved to fit the neck, with a single large circular panel on the front— no, wait…the back. Whatever that was for, it clearly wasn’t decoration. Above the table, a sign read: ”PUT ON A COLLAR AND GO UPSTAIRS TO THE CENTRAL GUARDROOM.

”Well, well, well,” Kokichi sang as he picked one up. He turned it over in his hands like it was some bizarre piece of jewelry. ”Guess the people running the Heart games have a real collar kink, huh? I’m starting to think the game masters are just lonely little weirdos with really questionable hobbies.”

He stared at the thing for a moment longer, his smile flattening at the edges. His reflection in the glossy black circle warped slightly with the tilt of the collar, and for once he didn’t laugh. He flicked his gaze at Kiibo, who was glaring at the object like it might bite him, then back to the collar he held.

This time.

Without hesitation, he snapped it around his neck. The collar whirred softly as it sealed itself with a mechanical click. He turned back to Kiibo with a lopsided smile. ”Well? You gonna accessorize too, Kiiboy? Everyone’s wearing them this season.”

The roboticist’s lips pressed into a thin line, but after a few seconds, he grabbed one and locked it around his own neck.

”Good boy,” he teased lightly, already turning on his heel to head up the stairs. He whistled a jaunty, off-key tune with his hands still tucked in his pockets. Kiibo followed after, more reluctantly.

The central guardroom was waiting at the top.

The stairwell was dim and narrow, and the concrete walls were pressing in like a tomb. At the top, a reinforced door swung open to reveal the central guardroom.

The space was larger than Kokichi expected, but not any less oppressive. The walls were painted a dull gray-blue, the same shade that hospitals used to pretend they were soothing. There were metal railings bordered the upper balconies that overlooked long halls leading to the cell blocks. Rows of barred doors stretched out from every direction like open maws, waiting to swallow anyone unlucky enough to step inside.

But the most noticeable thing wasn’t the decay. It was the people.

At least twenty of them stood quietly inside the guardroom. Each and every one wore the identical collar that Kokichi and Kiibo now had on. Nobody spoke nor moved much, save for the occasionally nervous glance or shifting of weight. It felt less like a gathering of players and more like a roomful of prisoners waiting for their sentence.

Suddenly, the TV above turned on, then blazed white, forcing everyone to squint up at it.

”WELCOME TO SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.”
”DIFFICULTY: JACK OF HEARTS.”

”RULES:”
”- GUESS THE CARD THAT APPEARS ON THE BACK OF YOUR COLLAR.”
”- HOWEVER, YOU MAY NOT LOOK AT THE SYMBOL YOURSELF.”
”- IN THE FINAL FIVE MINUTES, ENTER YOUR CELL AND DISCLOSE YOUR SYMBOL.”
”- IF YOU DO NOT ANSWER WITH THE CORRECT SYMBOL, IT IS GAME OVER. THE COLLAR WILL EXPLODE AND YOU WILL DIE.”
”- ADDITIONALLY, WHEN THE TIME LIMIT REACHES ZERO, THE SYMBOL ON THE COLLAR WILL RESET AND CHANGE FOR EACH ROUND.”
”- THERE IS NO LIMIT TO THE NUMBER OF ROUNDS, AND ENOUGH FOOD HAS BEEN PROVIDED.”
”- YOU MAY ROAM FREELY UNTIL IT IS TIME TO GO TO YOUR CELL.”
”- WHILE PARTICIPATING IN THIS GAME, NO DAYS WILL BE REMOVED FROM YOUR TRUTH BULLETS.”
- THE SOLITARY CONFINEMENT GAME IS ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU CAN TRUST YOUR FELLOW PLAYERS. BE AWARE THAT YOUR OPPONENT, THE JACK OF HEARTS, HAS ALREADY BEEN PLACED AMONG YOU.”

”TIME LIMIT: “ONE HOUR PER ROUND.”

”CLEAR CONDITIONS:”
”- ROUNDS REPEAT EVERY HOUR.”
”- YOU WIN THE GAME WHEN THE JACK OF HEARTS DIES.”

”PROHIBITED ACTIONS:”
”- LOOKING AT YOUR SYMBOL WITH A REFLECTIVE SURFACE IS CHEATING.”
”- PLAYERS MAY NOT USE WEAPONS OR VIOLENCE TO KILL FELLOW PLAYERS.”

”THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

By the time the voice fell quiet, the screen switched to a 1-hour countdown.

Obviously, no one moved at first. Some glanced at each other sidelong, while others stared down at the concrete floor like it might swallow them whole.

Kokichi tilted his head back as his eyes remained glued to the countdown. How entirely cute it was; an entire game about trust! Trust itself is a two player game, and everyone here just so happens to be paranoid. Including him! Especially him! He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. It’s like one big game of ’Hey buddy, what’s on my back?’ Except if they lie, his head goes kaboom. Half these people look like they’d lie about what he had on his collar just to watch him go splat. What pure comedy!

His eyes flicked across the room, cataloguing faces. Twenty people, all strangers with collars gleaming at their throats like black dog tags. He’s seen these types of things before, and the Jack of Hearts would much likely be very conspicuous. I mean, he never would’ve found out that Tsumugi was the…well, let’s say for now, the mastermind unless she revealed it herself on screen.

Welp! This game should be easy! He’ll beat it faster than whatever game Shuichi and the others are playing right now.

He leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching as the first two people finally worked up the courage to approach each other. They spoke in low, nervous tones, with their hands twitching toward the collars. The taller one raised his hand, just about to peek at the other’s symbol—

”Ridiculous,” someone says. A woman in a gothic dress and long dark drills scoffs under her breath. She didn’t bother walking toward anyone, merely standing with her arms crossed. “There are twenty of us and only one Jack of Hearts. That means nineteen of us will waste time and energy running in circles until the Jack strikes. Why, then, would any of us trust a stranger’s word, hm?”

The pair froze mid-move, exchanged a nervous glance, and stepped away from each other as if burned. Kokichi quietly snickered into his hand. At least one person here gets it. And from the far side of the room, a trio quietly decided to move downstairs together, disappearing into the prison halls.

Suddenly, someone giggles. ”Nyahaha! Everyone’s so gloomy already! Don’t worry, Atua has given me an idea!” She beamed, clasping her hands together. The woman has platinum hair and wears a golden coat. She twirled on her heel, smiling radiantly. ”Let’s all make teams! That way, no one has to lie, right? The truth will shine through!”

”That…actually sounds like a good idea,” said a tall woman behind her, brushing dark hair from her face. ”I’d like to join.”

”Me too,” a man added quickly.

”Of course, of course! The more the merrier!” The woman spread her arms wide as though welcoming children into a church. ”I am Angie Yonaga, the Ultimate Artist. It’ll be fun, so place your trust in my God, Atua!”

The mood in the room shifted. Where the gothic woman had sown suspicion, Angie seemed to plant the opposite–hope. People began drifting toward her, caught by her cheerful gravity.

Meanwhile, at the other end, a gruff-looking man zeroed in on someone trembling in the corner. He stomped over, and barked, ”Hey. What’s mine say?” The timid man, in return, flinched, stammering incoherently.

Kokichi yawned, watching all of this unfold. Same old, same old. People either bark like dogs or flock like sheep. Yaaaawn. Guess the Borderlands never changes, even after the face cards start. Really, it was kind of hilarious.

Beside him, Kiibo cleared his throat softly. ”Kokichi… Should we tell each other our symbols?”

He blinked, glancing at him with faux innocence. ”Hmm? And what makes you think I’m trustworthy?”

He stiffened, lips parting but no words coming out right away. ”I- I just thought—”

”For all you know, I could be the Jack of Hearts!” He cut him off with a sharp laugh. He widened his eyes dramatically and pointed at himself. Thank goodness for his past self joining drama club in elementary. Without it, he wouldn’t have been able to make such exaggerated expressions.

After a small moment of silence, Kiibo frowned, unimpressed by his display. ”…That’s impossible.”

”Oh?” His smile broadened and he cocked his head to the side.

”If you were the Jack of Hearts,” he started firmly, ”the zeppelin with its banner would follow your location. I observed that during the King of Spades’ game. Therefore…you can’t be the Jack.”

Tch. Smart cookie, huh? He immediately covered it with a bright giggle. ”Ahaha, caught me fair and square, Kiiboy! Guess you’re not as clueless as you look.”

”...So, does that mean—?”

But Kokichi had already turned his gaze elsewhere, watching people break off into twos and threes. A pink-haired girl with curly pigtails leaned into a taller girl with long blue hair; they whispered quickly before nodding, agreeing to stick together.

Just then, Angie’s group comes approaching them, her eyes targeting Kiibo.

”Would you like to join us?” She asked sweetly. ”No pressure, of course! The more the merrier, and Atua loves when everyone shares their truth together!”

Kiibo stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the sudden spotlight. But before he could reply, Kokichi threw his arm around Kiibo’s shoulders. ”Sure thing! We’d love to join!”

”Kokichi—!”

But Angie only beamed, satisfied, and swept past them with the rest of her followers trailing close behind.

The roboticist watched them go for a moment before shifting his attention to Kokichi. ”…Why did you say yes so quickly?”

”Because, Kiiboy…sometimes it’s better to sit inside the lion’s den than outside it.”

Shortly after, Angie’s group had swelled until it filled almost half the central guardroom. Everyone pressed in a semicircle around her, like she was the glorious and radiant sun.

Angie herself stood in the middle, glowing with delight. ”Okay! Let’s do this together, everyone. I’ll go first!” She turned around, brushing her hair aside to reveal the symbol stamped on her collar. ”Now, tell me, what do you see?”

The crowd leaned in, hesitant at first. A girl with cropped black hair and an oversized coat stepped forward, squinting carefully before speaking up. ”…It’s a spade.”

One by one, the others followed, repeating it like a strange little chant. ”Spade. Spade. Spade.”

She spun back around. ”Yay! You’re all so trustworthy! Atua blesses you!”

The girl who had spoken first stepped up next, brushing her hair aside. Her symbol was a heart.

”It’s a heart.” ”Heart, heart, heart.”

And so it continued. The players stepped up, showing their backs, and basked in the fragile relief of a crowd all agreeing with one another. For now, nobody dared to lie.

Kokichi’s attention, however, was anywhere but on the circle. His eyes would lazily flick from face to face, but it linger more on the pairs who stood in the more secluded areas.

From his right, the gothic woman with the dark twin drills stood with a smaller boy at her side. They spoke in hushed tones, the boy fidgeting nervously as she bent close with a wide grin. Their dynamic was easy to read. What’s a spider without a fly, anyway?

And to his left, he spotted another pair. The same curious pair who spoke quietly: the curly pink-haired girl with glasses and tall, long blue haired girl. He watched as they exchanged symbols like secrets. It’s funny how he already knows that this is going to get bloody before it gets clever. He bets his collar on it.

”Purple haired boy!”

The cheery voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times before turning his head just as Angie’s smile landed on him.

Before he could respond, Kiibo bristled beside him. ”Um, his name is Kokichi,” he corrected firmly.

”Oh, oopsie!” she made a small gasp, tilting her head slightly before quickly shrugging it off. ”Kokichi then. Do you want to go next?”

He gave her a long, flat stare. He could feel eyes on him now with half the group watching, waiting to see if he’d play along. For a second, he toyed with the idea of refusing just to stir the pot, but that probably wouldn’t look pretty for the first round. These people had no reason to lie to him. Besides, as long as Kiibo was in his pocket, he had all the verification he needed. What motive could the Ultimate Roboticist possibly have to lie?

His lips twitched at its corners before he replied, ”Eh, sure, why not?”

He sauntered toward the center of the group with the laziest movements he could muster. With a little shrug, he moved his messy hair out of the way and turned his back to them. For a moment, the room was quiet. Then rose the chorus.

”You have…a diamond.” ”Yes, a diamond.” ”Diamond, diamond, diamond.”

Every voice said the same thing. A whole crowd united, not by trust, but by the simple terror of lying in front of too many witnesses. Kokichi turned back around, and his eyes swept over the group like he was trying to detect if one of them was lying.

”Aw shucks, no one lied! You guys really are trustworthy.”

And by the time the digital countdown ticked its final five minutes, the announcer’s voice came to speak again.

”PLAYERS, PLEASE ENTER A CELL AND DISCLOSE YOUR SYMBOL. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE EXECUTION.”

Everyone looked tense upon the announcement as they went up and chose their cells. Kokichi, on the other hand, shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled down the hall as though this were nothing more than recess. He whistled tunelessly, picked a random cell, and locked the door shut with a clunk.

Inside, the room was bare.

”PLAYER, STATE YOUR ANSWER.”

”Mmm…” He glanced at his nails, examining them as if he had all the time in the world. ”Diamond.”

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then, click, his cell door opened. He stepped out, stretching his arms behind his head like he’d just woken from a nap. All down the hallway, doors were sliding open one by one. People emerged cautiously, touching their collars and looking around with wide eyes. Nobody was missing; nobody exploded.

”…It looks like everyone survived,” Kiibo said from behind him with his voice lighter than the atmosphere allowed. He let out a sigh, almost deflating with the sound. ”That’s…a relief.”

Kokichi nearly jumped at the sudden words, as his head snapped back slightly. He hadn’t noticed Kiibo’s door cracked open right behind him, hadn’t realized the roboticist had chosen a cell so close. Was he keeping an eye on him? Or was he just afraid of being far away? Either way, the thought amused him.

”Well, aren’t you sentimental, Kiiboy,” he chuckled, walking forward with his arms lazily put behind his head. ”But you know what? I’m starvingggg. I almost died of boredom back there, so I might as well stuff my face while I still can.”

”ROUND TWO BEGINS NOW.”

Once again, Angie’s group flocked together like a congregation. They stood in a loose circle, bowing to each other, repeating reassurances and ‘thank you’s as though saying it enough times would make it true.

”Thank you for your trust, everyone!” Angie clasped her hands together with a dazzling smile. ”Truly, Atua blesses us when we are honest!”

Kokichi and Kiibo, however, stood to the side. The roboticist tilted his head and spoke aloud. ”I wonder how long this will go on for…”

He clicked his tongue and answered without even looking at him. ”Until the Jack gets bored and kills someone, or someone too scared of the Jack gets jumpy and kills someone first. Either way, until then, this happy little tea party won’t end.”

Kiibo frowned, trying to keep the conversation light. ”Maybe…but as long as we’re honest with each other, we’ll be okay. Right?”

He could only shrug vaguely.

All of a sudden, a loud thud destroyed the atmosphere. A timid man had been shoved hard onto the floor, his palms scraping against the cold ground. Towering over him was a broad-shouldered man with his veins bulging on his neck.

”Tell me my symbol!” he bellowed, spittle flying. He spun briefly away, cursing under his breath, debating with himself if he should start a fight. ”Fucking hell…”

The poor man lies frozen and trembling, stuttering little words.

Quietly, the girl with pink curls stepped away from her partner, the blue haired girl, and approached. She crouched gracefully behind the timid man, gently keeping him steady.

”Are you okay?” she queried softly, so the buffer man could hear. But her real words brushed against the timid man’s ear. ”Tell him he’s a club.”

She lifted her head up to the predator, shrinking herself as though she were just another frightened lamb beside the timid man. The buffer man cracked his knuckles and growled, shoving the girl away before grabbing the timid man by the hair and yanking his head back.

”Say it!” His fist drove into the man’s gut, sending him coughing and curling on the ground. He drew back his arm again, ready for another strike.

”Y- you’re a club!”

The abrupt answer made the man pause. Slowly, his snarl shifted into a grin. ”Heh. There we go. That’s my buddy.” He dropped the man’s hair with a rough shove. With an ugly chuckle, he clapped his shoulder hard enough to make him wince, then straightened, lighting a cigarette as though nothing had happened.

As he strode past Kokichi and Kiibo, his expression shifted, the faintest trace of hostility creeping over his features. The look carried a kind of severity that pressed against the moment, stretching it into something uneasy. After a pause that felt both deliberate and punishing, he expelled a scoff before proceeding onward.

But not before Kiibo’s sharp eyes caught the unmistakable shape of a heart stamped boldly on the back of his collar.

”Wait, that’s a—”

”Shhh. Don’t be so quick to play hero,” Kokichi quickly pressed a finger to his lips. ”You never know who the Jack really is.”

”...But—”

”Exactly. ‘But’. Keep it zipped.”

Kiibo bit back his protest, glancing nervously after the buffer man as he disappeared down the corridor.

When the danger passed, Angie knelt gracefully like a benevolent priestess in front of the timid man. ”Are you alright? Atua, my God, says we should protect one another, not hurt each other.”

He clutched his side, but his lips curled into a weak, grateful smile. ”T- thank you… I thought…I thought he’d kill me.”

”Then why don’t you come with us?” She patted his shoulder invitingly. ”You should join my group instead. Everyone is welcome! We’ll keep you safe.”

”…Thank you. Really. Thank you.”

Bored, Kokichi went to the cafeteria with Kiibo trailing behind.

Shortly, everyone’s collars had reset, and a new round had begun. Conversations quickly dropped to nervous whispers. On the TV screen, the players’ profiles lined up. One profile now had a stark red X slashed across it; the gruff man’s.

Kokichi slouched against the wall, twirling a strand of his hair. ”Welp, guess someone didn’t get their daily serving of honesty today.”

”Please don’t joke about that,” Kiibo grimaced, ”someone actually died last round…”

Suddenly, Angie clasped her hands, smiling softly as if she were about to start a prayer. ”Atua is whispering to me…” Then, her eyes found its way to the timid man, who was standing in the corner, eating a small snack taken from the cafeteria. ”He tells me that that man must be the Jack of Hearts. He lied and led that man to his death. We mustn’t let him wander freely.”

Heads turned to her at her sudden declaration. Though, no one dared to object her.

A background woman frowned and hesitantly spoke up, leaning to whisper in Angie’s ear. ”What do you mean by that…?”

She smiled, turning her head slowly. ”Why, we simply lie to him! If he’s the Jack, then we’ll be free. And if he’s not, he’s still dangerous. Liars are dangerous. It’s better to act while we still have a chance.”

After that, no one said anything.

Notes:

Haha I love kiibouma I almost forgot this fic is specifically for saiouma oh well maybe in my next fanfic🙏