Danganronpa: Until Proven Guilty

Chapter Four - 7: A Fall From Grace

a potential trigger warning: references to self harm scars. discretion is advised

—

The sound of the intercom reverberating those haunting words is a sound I can always wait for. What once started as a siren's call to our untimely demise now feels more like an annoying bite scratching at the back of my brain.

I avert my gaze from the patch of mud, staring into the distance, hoping for some kind of salvation. And of course, nothing. Just the painful reality that, once again, we're to be subjected to three hours of hell. And the loss of another friend.

Kaso heads off first, as if he's attempting to lead us as the others follow suit.
The thought of Daiki and Kaso's final conversation nags my mind like a sting I can't itch. An almost beautiful moment, a shining golden light on Kaso ending in grey cast and horrific insults.
I watch as Mitsuharu strolls behind the others, just a metre or so apart. Dashing up to him, I grab the back of his over-shirt to grab his attention.

"H-hey," I whisper, voice low as to not attract attention from the others, "I need to tell you something..."
He looks at me, confused, "You're madly in love with me?"
"No, you idiot," I shake my head, unintentional spite in my words. Yes, I am, "About Daiki. I saw him and Kaso talking earlier, just as we left the bar."

I recite the scene to him with detail. Too much detail for me, as the air around me feels just as it did in the moment. With each sentence, Mitsuharu's face grows more concerned, yet more curious.

"Wow," He says, face blank, "Didn't know Kaso was like that."
"Please don't tell anyone," I grit my teeth, "Please. Not unless-"
"Daiki killed himself?" His words cut through mine.
I stop, utterly baffled, "N-no? Where did you get that from? I meant if their conversation is relevant to the case. Where did suicide come from?"
"We can talk more about it later," He says, "But, I had something to talk to you about too."
"Right?"
"A-a while ago, I saw something," He seems almost hesitant to speak, "Back when we had the pool party. Daiki has a lot of scars. And they aren't from some tree branch or anything. When I saw he'd fallen from the roof, I thought about that moment. We talked about it, he insisted he was fine. I'm just praying he was and this was all a sick plot against him. But I can't rule it out."
I nod, processing his words. A pause. I can barely muster the courage to talk. As if I know what I want to say, but not how.
"I think there's more nuance to this," I finally say, the words slipping from my mouth, "I'm not sure why. But it's not that simple, I know it isn't."

"We shouldn't talk about it with the others, though," Mitsuharu says, "Unless we have to. As much as I hate Kaso, it's not right to embarrass him. And Daiki...well, I doubt he'd want the others knowing about his personal life."

I barely feel time pass, and before I know it, we're back on the bus. With that same guy. The creepy guy. The creepy guy that has a gun.

I feel the rustling of paper in my pocket, taken aback by the sensation at first until I remember. Those scraps from earlier. Taking them out, I scan them briefly. Through the bleeding ink and smears of dirt and red stains I pray aren't blood, I can just make out the words.

"I don't want to drag you with me. Hell wouldn't suit you."

"May God give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed. - Psalm 20:4"

"This is my choice. It's for the best. Goodbye."

The sinking of my heart sends bubbles through my stomach, and I feel the urge to throw up. Horrible words. Disgusting images plague my head. Did Daiki write this?

I immediately nudge Mitsuharu, handing the paper to him without a word. He takes them from me, raising a rather concerned eyebrow.

"Well, who do you think wrote these?" He asks me, handing the paper back to me.