Split in two (Dangronpa AU -Editing)

Trial by Fire

Dual POV

Elevator Descent 

Makoto's fingers twitched toward the knife hidden under his jacket. The note in his pocket burned like a brand. 

'Don't mess this up!'

The elevator doors opened, and his podium gleamed- Makoto & Naegi etched onto it.

Celeste's claw-like nails hover over the engraving. "Pardon, but I do believe this trial room has a typo." 

Monokuma giggled. "Upupu! Two names for the price of one! What luck~!"

"And what is that?" the red-eyed girl speaks again. 

"Poor Sayaka shouldn't miss out on her trial! Think of it as her joining you!" 

Kirigiri's gaze locked onto the 16th stand. "We only had 15 students." 

"Details, details! Just like Naegi's silly typo." The bear waved a paw. "Now, vote wrong, and everyone dies! Except the blackened~!"

--

Toko jabbed a finger at Naegi, accusation rang in his ears, "H-he did it! S-snuck into the bathroom—!"

"Unlikely." Kirigiri's voice cut like ice. "The killer erased all traces of their hair. Why would Naegi need to do that... in his own room?"

Naegi's palms slicked with sweat. 'Hair? What's she—'

A pressure built behind his eyes, like a cold headache. 

And then his mouth moved without him. 

"Why would I scrub my hair from my room?" His voice sounds sharp like broken glass. 

The class recoiled. Hina's eyes widened. "Makoto, you sound-"

'Shit. Too sharp.' 

The cold receded as fast as it came. Naegi gasped, hands flying to his throat.  "I-I mean! It's just...logic?" His voice cracked. 'What did I just say?' 

Kirigiri's gloved hand tightened behind her podium, again, his tone shifts so fast. 

--

Hiro slammed his podium. "Bet the knife's from Naegi's creepy locked drawers!"

Togami smirked. "How convenient your room had locks no one else's did."

'Play. Dumb.' Makoto hissed internally.

Naegi rubbed his neck, laughing too high. "Uh—luck? Heh...? I didn't even know they locked until-"

"Until Sayaka pointed it out." Kirigiri stepped into the conversation, "Why then remove the key if you weren't aware?"

Guilt choked him. 'I....did look? No, he did-' 

Makoto's thoughts dripped venom: 'Congrats. Now we're dead.' 

Monokuma's paws slam down on his throne, "Boring!! You sick little disgusting kids can have a lovers' quarrel later! Hurry up and find the culprit before I pick for you!"

The baseball star was breaking down, as the truth unraveled. The katana, the nails, the broken doorknob, and most damming, 11037-but Makoto barely registered it. His fingers brushed the note in his pocket, its edges sharp as the knife against his ribs. 

The voting screen flashed.  Leon: Guilty. 

Relief evaporated as the execution unfolded—a personalized hell of screaming fastballs and shattering bats. The class watched in horror.

All except one.

From the corner of his eye, Makoto caught Junko's expression—not fear like the rest, but disappointment. Her lips moved silently, echoing words she shouldn't know:

"Strike... out."

Then she blinked, and the mask of despair was back.