Therapy Trio Sh!t REAL!!!

Frail (Remembrance)

(1737 words, Osoroshi's POV)
(TW: Self-Harm, Suicide)

Osoroshi sat alone in the garden, taking care of the flowers there. The killing game had ended a long time ago. How long, exactly? He wasn't sure. It might've been just a week ago, or as long as a few months. It's not like he needed to know the passage of time anymore, now that he lived alone.

He didn't unscrew the metal sheets from the windows, and he turned off Monokuma's announcements that would wake the participants up and tell them when nighttime occurred. He just fell asleep when he was tired and woke up when his body said it was time.

The artist didn't need to know; therefore, he didn't care.

Besides, knowing of the passing of time might have made him... somewhat sad? Sentimental? No... that didn't sound like him. He refused to be a little sad crybaby who wallowed in misery anymore.

The only person he needed now was himself. He could take care of himself with what Sosa had taught him and his own survival skills he had learned through the years of torment and neglect.

Osoroshi Atisuto, the Ultimate Artist and Ultimate Despair didn't need anyone else. Especially not a particularly stubborn purple-haired skydiver...

The hand that was holding the watering can shook as he felt a strange yet familiar ache in his chest. It wasn't a particularly nice feeling. Actually, it hurt so bad that he almost wanted to succumb, to fall to the ground and sob.

No... I-I refuse to b-be that we-weak...

Osoroshi sighs and puts down the watering can onto the molch ground of the garden. He shut his eyes and tried to block everything out- every thought and every feeling that would make him want to chase after the survivors and hope for a better future with them- all of them.

After a moment, he opened his eyes with a blank face. No weakness could be shown. No weaknesses for anyone to exploit to hurt him. If he showed weakness, others would care about him, and then they'd leave, just like everyone in his life.

The artist stood up and brushed his apron clean of the dirt, his jaw set. That's why he couldn't trust anyone, aside from his big sister.

What a-about Sako- Masako...?

No. N-Not even she c-could have b-been trusted. S-She was probably ju-just trying to get close to me so s-she could hurt me o-or abandon me... that's t-the way t-the world works f-for me.

Osoroshi chuckles dryly. L-Lucky me.

He swung open the door to the garden, stepping outside. He could remember a time when these halls were filled with rambunctious teens playing silly games, the screams of despair that filled the school when one of their own was murdered, and the quiet chatter of the cliques that formed within the group.

Now these halls were silent.

Osoroshi found this silence to be both relieving, yet... lonely? The mastermind of the now-over killing game huffs. There was no way he was getting sentimental over that... stupid group of stupid people who did stupid things... he just wanted them to shut up and leave him alone.

He thought of the stubborn skydiver again... did he really want her to go? Osoroshi shook his head. Yes, yes, of course he did. He was always so annoyed in her presence. All she ever talked about was escaping with everyone and finding hope (something that especially annoying Violinist would vehemently agree with), even when it was proven time and time again that no help was coming.

Of course that grated on his nerves, as the Ultimate Despair (and as someone with a working brain). He also hated how she seemed too kind and sympathetic to others. She always tried her best, even if she was a bit clumsy and awkward at it, to cheer the others up.