Just One More Time

5 - Just Three More Times

Opening the new app on his Monopad, Shuichi watched the screen as he called Asano, the woman picking up after the first ring. "Why hello there Saihara, what can I do for the greatest mastermind of this fine institution?" She grinned with malice.

"How could you kill Kiibo?" Shuichi demanded an answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Asano's chuckle dripped with sarcasm. "That's what you told us to do, and we follow the mastermind's orders."

"What are you talking about?" Shuichi frowned. He couldn't fathom the idea of ordering his friends' deaths, but then again, his true version in this world was supposed to be different. The detective as he knew himself to be wasn't supposed to exist.

"Right, you've got amnesia. To put it simply, you've scripted everything that happens in this game. We do everything you say, that's why you're able to call me whilst inside the killing game. You scripted who kill whom, how and in what order," Asano explained.

"That would make sense. How could Kiibo die though? I mean, he's the camera for the audience, right? Aren't they supposed to see Danganronpa through his eyes?" Shuichi paced the dorm room as he talked to Asano on the black and white tablet. His heart seemed to be in a never-ending cycle of anxiety with each murder, just as depressing as the last. Nothing made sense to him, every time he thought he understood something, Shuichi found himself just as clueless as the first time he'd set foot in the academy.

"Ah, I take it that was the case in a few of the past worlds. That or it happened once and you assumed it was always the same," Asano teased. "We're doing something different, at your request of course. The audience is seeing the season through the eyes of the protagonist!" Silence enveloped the two as Shuichi awaited further explanation, realising he wasn't getting one.

"Who's the protagonist?"

"Oh my God, it's like talking to a five-year-old!" Asano sighed. "Amami Rantaro, do you know which one he is?"

"Yes, I'm in a loop, not an age regression," Shuichi spat at the woman who was starting to get on his nerves.

"Ooh, getting pissed? As much as I'd love to mess with you, this is getting unprofessional. Now, I'm going to warn you to be careful around Amami. His thoughts can be altered by the audience through polls we send out, so if the audience becomes suspicious of you it could spell the end."

"Thanks," Shuichi frowned, hanging up the call without a care for the other woman. It was moronic to trust a person who worked for Danganronpa, who worked for a literal game of killing. Slipping the Monopad into his pocket, Shuichi sighed and rubbed his temples underneath his hat. This is such a fucking pain. Glancing around the room, the untrained chemist pondered over his next move.

I have time to spare, maybe I should turn this place upside down for any clues? Although Shuichi had searched through the room for any hints as to his current killing game, he hadn't been super thorough. Walking over to his closet, the male began pulling everything out, analysing every nook and cranny of the familiar dorm.

-*_*⏳*_*-

Shuichi glared at the floor, having cleaned up the mess he made in his room. After spending the entire day searching his dorm, the male found nothing of interest. Even though he hadn't expected to find much, he expected something to turn up, even the tiniest hint. Frustrated, Shuichi brewed in self-hatred, hating the feeling that he had the upper hand, yet none of the benefits.

The doorbell broke him from his cycle of rage before it could boil out of his control. Shuichi rolled his eyes, wondering who could be bothering him at such a time of night. It was after the nighttime announcement, so Shuichi assumed everyone would be asleep. Peeking through the crack as he opened the door, Shuichi noticed the visitor waiting for him on the other side.