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dangans-ur-ronpas · 9 days ago

Text

Chapter 29

well that's a series wrap on mondo. we keep trekking though this fic's not about him

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

every time i write makoto pov i feel like avatar aang getting his spine realigned by a rock and suddenly unlocking the avatar state. achieving access to all sensations...

there was supposed to be more togiri development but i had to address some kind of naegami interaction after everything. like makoto you lowkey left your situationship to die bc someone else told you to

ty @digitaldollsworld for helping me bc i could not be settled on this chap no matter what

Content warning tags: character death, description of blood/gore, canon-typical violence implied, emotionally-charged arguing/yelling, Kyoko-typical callousness

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The whole time while he had been trying to help to stop Mondo’s bleeding, everything had been so overwhelmingly loud. The roar of adrenaline in his ears, the sound of Mondo’s limbs twitching and knocking against the floor, and his fading, hastened gasping - it was cacophonous to him.

Now, though, it was painfully silent. Mondo’s eyes are closed, and even with his face pale and drawn, he looks so…young. Almost childishly innocent, his mouth slightly open, like he could just be asleep.

If not for the numerous stab wounds littering his chest.

Makoto thinks he’s going to be sick.

At that moment, there’s a deafening, chilling chime over the intercoms, and Monokuma’s voice delightedly declaring ‘another body discovery!’ and he nearly jumps out of his skin with a shuddering gasp, trying to fight back the sob threatening to break the surface. Someone’s grabbing his shoulders, dragging him upwards and away, and he tries to push them away.

“Calm down-” Whoever it is grabs him by the collar of his jacket and yanks him to his feet, then shakes him firmly. It’s Byakuya, scowling deep and furious. “Keep it together. Can you hear me? Makoto.”

“He - he-”

“Yes, I know. This is, what, the fourth time you’ve been up close with a body? Breathe, you idiot.” Hands trail searchingly from his collar to his face, cupping his cheeks. Chillingly cold, enough to make him gasp and shock him back to reality. “Don’t mourn him right now. We need to figure out what happened here.”

Makoto blinks, taking a deep breath, and holds it for a moment, forcing himself to calm down. Byakuya was right. In a twisted way, he really should be used to this by now; Sayaka, Junko, Leon, Chihiro, Taka, and now…

He pushes them out of his mind, forcing himself to focus only on what was in front of him. As he takes in the other boy’s appearance, dressed the least formal that Makoto’s ever seen him - in a standard-issue tracksuit that was only slightly ill-fitting, hair still stringy and damp - but alive and well, and he feels some of the agony wiped away with the relief that he was okay.

“Wait, are you okay?” He blurts out, suddenly noticing how pale Byakuya looked, a lack of blood in his cheeks. There’s a brief, sharp thrill of guilt that resurfaces at the realization, and another surge of panic - he shouldn’t have left him to Kyoko and the others like she had insisted, he shouldn’t have been so quick to trust her, should have protested more - but it must show on his face, because Byakuya rolls his eyes at that, and squeezes his face sharply in reprimand.

“I’m fine. And it seems like you are too, if you can ask stupid questions.” He scoffs, sounding so much like his old self that it’s a relief. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

Makoto wishes he knew. Instead of responding, he turns his gaze behind Byakuya at the other body in the room, leaning against the opposite wall between a vase of plastic flowers and a styrofoam replica of a Roman statue.

Even in death, Celeste Ludenberg was as dramatic as she was in life, hands clasped over her stomach and eyes closed. The left side of her headdress was crushed, the white lace stained and matted with blood, with more of it dripping down her pale face to pool on her dress. She’s posed artfully, like for a photoshoot, her legs tucked primly under her skirt, head tilted to the side.

It looks so purposeful that he half expects her to wake up any moment now, a pleased smile playing on her face at her own appearance. But she stays as still and unmoving as a doll.

“What are you looking at,” Byakuya turns his head belatedly, freezing when he catches sight of the body. “Is that-?”

“Yes.” Someone says from behind them, and Makoto jumps a bit. At some point, Kyoko had risen to stand near them, and now stepped forward to Makoto’s side. “Hifumi was the one who alerted us that she was here. The body discovery for her went off when Makoto and Hiro went to go see, while the rest of us were still in the pool.”

“I see.” Byakuya squints slightly at the corpse. “I’m assuming that when they arrived, Mondo was also already here, in that state?”

Makoto swallows down another wave of ill to answer. “Yeah. He - he was barely alive.” He clenches his fists to keep from shaking. “Monokuma - Monokuma said if we could keep him alive while it made up its mind, it’d save Mondo.”

Byakuya clicks his tongue at that. “Idiot,” But the venom in his voice isn’t directed at him. “You were being toyed with. That bear would never keep an honest promise.”

“Oh, don’t be so sure!”

There’s a scream of surprise. They all turn to catch Monokuma, standing near Mondo’s body. Its red eye glimmers with a strange, living excitement. “I could have saved him, you know? Had all the brains and tools for it! …But, alas.” It sighs dramatically, shaking its head. “I was only gonna wait for…well, maybe a second longer than you all had left to go.” It cackles, clutching its belly with the same, jolly motion that reminded Makoto uncomfortably of winter holiday commercials. “Seems you all just didn’t have the chops for it! Guess you can’t spell ‘teamwork’ without the ‘eam’ from ‘dream on’!”

Hands grip his shoulders tightly, pulling him backwards. He’d stepped forward without even realizing it, fingers clenched into fists, trembling at his sides.

“Calm down.” Byakuya hisses quietly. His nails bite into Makoto’s shoulder through his jacket, though they shake slightly. He’s just as angry, face twisted in disgust. “Don’t play into its games.”

“But-”

“He’s right.” Kyoko agrees. Her face is pinched into a scowl, lips turned downwards. And then, louder, to Monokuma: “Give us the files.” Harsh and firm and shockingly cold. One hand stays clamped stiffly on Makoto’s shoulder, the other extended towards the bear. “There are two bodies, so we can’t waste any time.”

“My, how bossy! But I do so love proactive students!” Monokuma sighs, before producing (Makoto still couldn’t figure out where it was keeping all the props that seemed to materialize out of thin air, it didn’t have any pockets he could see) two black files, tossing them forward. Makoto catches one, and Byakuya fumbles the other, awkwardly pinning it against his chest with one hand.

“Ta-ta! Good luck, my sweet cubs!” It waves, and waddles away. Aiming one last playful ‘boo!’ at Hifumi outside, who lets out a shriek of terror.

One of the files is for Owada, and the other for Celeste.

After a brief, heated, glaring competition between him and Kyoko over the file with the most unknown (which he’s pretty sure he won, all things considered), Makoto compromises for them by taking Celeste’s file to read out loud.

“We all have to hear it anyway,” He says sternly, when Byakuya frowns at him. But he relents, crossing his arms to listen.

The information is laid out like this: the death was instantaneous and caused by a blow to the head. There were two blows, one at the side, one near the top of the cranium, with the latter being the one to end it.

“Time of death?” He asks, and Makoto just shrugs.

“Less than three hours,” Kyoko says from where she’s crouched by Celeste’s body. Already deep in her own examination, by the looks of things, as she unknits one lifeless hand from the other and lifts it. “No rigor mortis yet, and still warm.”

“Eugh,” Hiro shudders audibly. He’s standing near the doorway, too paranoid of another Monokuma surprise to wander away from the group, and too uncomfortable to enter fully. Hifumi sits on a stool next to him, dabbing a colorful handkerchief to his face, pale and glossy with sweat. Fukawa is laid out in a corner on a few mats, dead to the world but not deceased, so Byakuya ignores the lot of them.

“Anything that looks like a weapon?”

“For Celeste? Yes, there’s a bloodied mallet over there that roughly matches the shape of the wound.” She points behind him at Mondo’s body. For the first time, Byakuya notices a wooden hammer, stained with blood, sitting near one of Mondo’s hands. “And for Mondo…”

She lifts Celeste’s other arm, and a pair of silver scissors slide out of a lacy sleeve into her waiting hand. Fully silver, from the handle to the pointed tip, with what looks like awkward-looking protrusions extending off one of the grips. A slight smear of blood trails down the blade of it, only visible to Byakuya as she turns it to catch the light.

Aoi gasps at the sight of it. “Aren’t those…?”

“Syo’s scissors.” Kyoko nods, and despite being wholly dry, he feels a shiver of cold run down his back.

Kyoko sets the scissors down, and continues examining the body for a moment, running quick, careful hands over the skirt folds and sleeves. A few others make sounds of discomfort and turn away, especially as she begins undoing Celeste’s tie and collar. A little clumsily too, as she fumbles and finally yanks the last button open with the audible snap of threads. Hifumi gasps, and Hiro groans.

“Look, Kyoko, big props to you for everything that you’ve done, but can’t you be a little more…respectful?” He sounds queasy and faint.

Byakuya rolls his eyes a bit at that. “It’s a timed murder investigation. We don’t exactly have the luxury of being ‘considerate’.”

“Yeah, but-”

“If you have a problem, then say a prayer and go do something useful.” he says harshly, and there’s an audible snap as Hiro shuts his mouth. “Go look for clues at the swimming pool. Or go tend to Toko, maybe, if you don’t want to be involved at all.”

“You’re being an asshole again.” Aoi says warningly, a hard edge in her voice.

“And I hope you can afford me the decency of understanding why. Given how I almost ended up being the third victim in this case, I think I can be allowed to be impatient about finding the culprit even without my life on the line.”

The others fall silent. Painfully so. He has the feeling Makoto is staring at him, but he continues, unwilling to stop, or perhaps unable to. “If it helps you make up your mind, then let me make this clear. He-” And he points at Mondo’s corpse. “Is the one who tried to drown me like a common thug. And given the disaster that was the last trial, I’d like to make things as clear as possible before going in.”

“Wh- huh-” Makoto sputters. At the same time as Aoi and Hiro shriek, “What!?” Hifumi has hands clasped over his ears, visibly shaking.

Sakura steps forward. “Calm down,” She has her hands raised carefully, as if calming a skittish beast. “And you’re certain?”

He narrowly stops himself from blowing up right there. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be?!” He grabs the edge of his sleeve, yanking it upwards to reveal the white lines of bandages running up his forearm. “I know perfectly well why I was targeted. I haven’t made any attempt to be on good terms with anyone, and even if I were to miraculously survive, my testimony wouldn’t hold. But even if I can’t trust my sight, I still have everything else, and I know it was Mondo’s voice I heard.” He closes his hand around his bandaged wrist, and squeezes it tightly. “Don’t you dare tell me to be calm.”

“N-no one’s trying to say you’re not right,” Hiro stammers after a moment, stricken.

“Then what are you trying to say? My ears are fine. Speak up.”

No one says a word. Not for a long, painful moment. Byakuya is vaguely aware of how he must seem right now, similar to the proceedings of the last trial. Snappish and self-victimizing, like a wounded dog.

At that moment, Kyoko clears her throat.

“She was strangled.” She says, voice flat. Everyone turns to see her gesture at the pale column of Celeste’s exposed neck, at the dark shadows trailing up it. “Her collar was rumpled, so I suspected that as much had happened.” She readjusts the collar carefully, then stands. “In my mind, the best way to pay respect to an unrightfully deceased is to find the exact circumstances of their death. I try to be as discreet and respectful about it as I can, but I wasn’t lying earlier when I said we were pressed for time. If the timer starts with the first announcement, then we’ve lost a good chunk of it trying to save Mondo.

“But this indicates that, even if she died instantly, that there was a struggle. So we now have to figure out exactly with who.”

“Isn’t that much obvious?” Byakuya starts, and she shakes her head.

“Not according to the other Monokuma file.” She raises said file. “According to this, the stab wounds are only a few centimeters deep. Not enough to justify the scissors that Celeste was holding.”

“It’s possible Celeste didn’t have the strength to push the weapon in deep enough,” Sakura notes grimly.

“Possible, yes. But look - “ she lifts the scissors, and tilts them slightly - whatever it is she’s showing them, Byakuya can’t make it out, but someone else lets out a sudden ‘oh!’

“There’s blood on the screw!” Aoi points out, and Kyoko nods.

“It’s fresh, too. Not fully congealed, so we can’t say it’s old blood. And there’s no evidence of splatter along the handle, which makes it odd that we should find blood along the whole length of the blade.” She wraps the blade in a cloth. “I propose that we should split into two groups. One to guard the scene, the other to investigate. As we have been.”

There’s a morbid irony in how quickly she settles the atmosphere, and by using murder evidence, no less. But he’s grateful for it. He had a feeling it couldn’t have ended well if it had continued, especially told by how Makoto had closed a vice grip around his forearm, and was halfway through trying to drag him away to the door.

He jerks out of Makoto’s grasp, irritated in an entirely new way now. He hasn’t forgotten the fact that Makoto hadn’t been there when he was being dragged out of the pool. Even if it had been an entirely logical division of labor, and likely hadn’t been an easy choice to make - was the events of the previous day so cheap to him that he couldn’t have tried to be there?

But those thoughts are wholly irrational, and sound more like the displeased whinings of a jilted mistress than the careful logic he needs, so he pushes them out of his mind with a scowl and turns his attention back to Kyoko.

“Should we split again?” He asks. “We have two bodies and another scene of an attempted murder. I don’t doubt that they might be linked.”

“Hm.” Kyoko looks over the body once more, then nods. “Okay. Sakura, can you stay here and guard the scene? And keep an eye on Toko if need be?” And at Sakura’s nod and acknowledging hum, she continues. “Makoto. You, Hiro and Hifumi should continue investigating here and the hallways leading towards the second floor. Byakuya, Hina and I will go to the pool.”

It’s not the groupings Byakuya expected, and apparently, none of the others had expected as well. “Wait, wait,” Makoto protests immediately. “Shouldn’t you stay here? You’re better with bodies, and why…”

He trails off, but his unspoken question was clear, and shared by Byakuya. Why keep us separate?

“I’ve already gleaned everything I can from the bodies themselves,” Kyoko replies simply. “And I didn’t get the opportunity to take in the potential clues at the pool earlier. You’re better at noticing details - when you’re done here, you can come meet us there, but don’t rush the work.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

“I know.” She pauses. “I was saying that out loud for my own sake as well.”

It’s an uncharacteristically personal admittance, and not one he can discern as being wholly genuine, or just spoken to ease Makoto’s feelings. Byakuya casts her a glance, perceives nothing, and looks away again.

“Um…” Aoi raises a tentative hand. “Could Hifumi and I switch, maybe? It might be better for him if he doesn’t have to stay in this room…”

“...I suppose that would be fine.” Though Byakuya notes the slight flatness in her voice suggesting that that was less than fine. “But in that case…we should also bring Toko along. HIfumi can help watch over her in the nurse’s office.”

It was another, rare display of unexpected care from Kyoko, and it takes him just as off-guard as Aoi. But unlike him, she accepts the suggestion easily. “Oh, uh, okay!” And she turns to Hifumi. “Is that okay, Hifumi?”

“O-oh, uh…yeah, okay.” He sounds quiet, lifeless. An understandable reaction. “Um…should we carry her, or…?”

The thought of having to handle Fukawa’s body was just as unpleasant as suffering her company. Especially if she woke up partway. “Yes, unless you think you can wake her up?” Byakuya gestures at the heap of her in the corner. “In any case, I’m not in any state to carry her. I doubt Kyoko is either.”

The frown in Kyoko’s voice is practically audible. “...I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Your hand is still injured. Don’t lie,” He adds, when she turns fully towards him to argue. “I felt it back at the pool. It’s stiff as a board.”

“Kyoko,” Makoto says, accusingly and utterly disappointed, and Kyoko whips back towards him instead. “You said it was better.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” She protests, but without supporting it with any reasoning, the objection comes off as uncharacteristically weak and unsubstantial. As if knowing this, she quickly acquiesces: “Fine. We won’t waste time on it. Hifumi, can you carry her? If not, we’ll leave her here, but the rest of you will have to keep an eye on her.”

Hifumi jumps, caught off-guard by the sudden question, and quickly looks away from where he’d been staring at them. “N-no, no, I can…I can do it.” He says hastily. A little too hastily, and if Byakuya had the mind for it, he would’ve commented on it, made some snide note about Hifumi’s apparent overeagerness to carry a girl.

But he was being distracted, at that moment, by Makoto. Pinching onto his sleeve and looking up at him. Whispering in a hushed, desperate tone: “Can we talk?”

“Is it important?” There really were more pressing matters to deal with. If the time for investigation started with the first body announcement, then Kyoko’s earlier declarations were right, and they needed to optimize their time.

“I just wanted to say sorry-”

“Not important,” Byakuya decides out loud, turning away to watch Hifumi precariously and carefully balancing Fukawa on his back, having shuffled his backpack to his front. “Save it for after the trial.”

“But-”

“It was the best choice to have gone with at the time. Kyoko was the one who suggested you all split up, right?” She was the only one who could’ve come to such a conclusion, immediately upon hearing the possibility of another body. He might have done the same in her position. “And it worked out. I’m perfectly fine.” And to demonstrate, he lifts and flexes a hand, ignoring the slight twinge in his wrist that accompanies the action.

Makoto doesn’t reply to that, his face instead turned towards his hand, staring at it - and Byakuya belatedly realizes that his attention was on the bandages wrapped around his wrist. “It doesn’t hurt,” He adds, a hasty attempt at reassurance, even as Makoto reaches out and wraps his hands around his forearm, pushing up the sleeve of his jacket. “Aoi’s quite skilled with these things. And I doubt I was in there for long, seeing how I’m still in full possession of my mental faculties…”

He trails off. Makoto’s grip was tightening, encircling the bandaged area. The pressure reigniting the dull ache of it, making his already-cold fingers go numb.

“Makoto,” He says quietly, mindful of anyone who might have been watching. And when there’s no response, a little louder: “Makoto.”

Makoto seems to flinch at that, hand squeezing fiercely for a moment, inciting a sharp, warm flare of pain, and Byakuya blinks at the feeling, eyelids fluttering as he draws a sharp breath. It wasn’t unbearable, or even unpleasant, but it was - and he racks his mind for the word - intense, strangely intimate, like Makoto was trying to press all the words he didn’t have time to say through the bandages, into the bleeding line of raw skin and exposed nerves.

And then he’s withdrawing, more slowly than Byakuya might have expected, fingers dragging along the exposed edges of the gauze and an apologetic thumb swiping against the pulse-point of his wrist as he goes. “...Sorry,” He mumbles, face noticeably pinker than before. “I…I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”

He turns away quickly before Byakuya can reply, leaving him standing there with his arm still partially outstretched, a warmth in his face matching the one still lingering in his wrist. Feeling the same kind of stunned he might have felt if Makoto had kissed him instead.

Kyoko clears her throat from behind him, and he nearly jumps, arm snapping down to his side. He glances around quickly, face heating, but Makoto was already busying himself with shaking through the contents of a wastebasket with Hiro, and no one else seemed to be paying him any attention at all.

Kyoko had certainly noticed however. That much was clear by how she was staring at him. But regardless of what her thoughts might have been about it, her voice betrays nothing. “Let’s go.”

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#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #still casually injecting my own interests regarding wounds and pain into here #sorry celeste u dont get to survive here either :/#was writing this between and during finals week and going back home but only posting it now #also posting this on my top-surg anniversary! not a full tiddy removal but i look good as hell. happy to be fluorishing while he suffers <3 #chapter 30 will come out on the 30th exactly and be da last update of da year...waow......

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