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korishisector · 4 years

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Trial 1 Summary Post

All posts from the first trial will be contained beneath the Read More:

MICHAEL:

He hadn't been present for any part of the investigation. He'd been MIA the entire time -- as soon as he'd seen Chizuru's body, Michael had dipped almost immediately, and had only now decided to make a reappearance. His fursuit head betrays no emotions, and his posture is only slightly more slumped than usually as he quietly walks into the trial room and stands at his assigned seat without a word. Whatever's going through his head right now is difficult to tell, if there's even anything at all.

RURIRA:

When Rurira walks in, she’s trailing behind Desmond, Nana, and Miyu, holding herself in a tight grip as she begins shivering in the cool air of the concrete room. She’s looking worse than she usually does— mumbling incoherent words with a couple of clear mentions of their now-deceased classmate; one of Rurira’s closer (if only) friends she’s made over the past year. As soon as she’s standing at her miamikuma-assigned lectern, she starts to look her classmates over, gaze travelling as she mutters, most likely only loud enough for Sumiko and Nana to hear: ”...cleaned up Chizuru’s room. Where was everyone during investigation, we should figure out...” before her voice trails off again. She wipes some cold sweat off her forehead with the back of her bare hand, and pulls up her facemask over her mouth nervously.

IYASA:

A trial… None of this should have been happening. Iyasa knew that much as he stepped into the elevator, brushing off some of the ash and char that had accumulated on his once-polished shoes. A shower was one of the last things on his mind, despite smelling like a walking ashtray. He was their chaperone—one of them, anyway—and he should have been more attentive. If he had just been smarter, stronger, better… He shook his head free of such thoughts. He did what he could. He just had to hope it was enough. As Iyasa took his place at his podium, his eye trailed over the faces of everyone else in the room. His expression matched their own—sorrowful, nervous, uncertain. He wanted nothing more right now than to be free of all of this—well, for him and the underclassmen to be free of it. But there was nothing he could do except stand and wait for the evidence to come in. He could contribute so little, he had to hope it would be enough. Enough for what? A “successful” punishment? Hardly worth it. He cleared his throat and tried to offer a reassuring smile to the underclassmen, but it came out as more of a grimace than anything else. With a deep breath to calm himself, he continued to survey the others—hoping against hope that someone had found something, anything helpful.

NANA

Nana, despite it all, could walk in with her usual lazy smile and a bit of pep in her step. She had come in with Miyu, Desmond, and Rurira and was even able to follow Rurira to their assigned stations. "Ohoho? Using language such as 'punishment'? That's vague enough but that doesn't really get to the truth of things. Should I be the one to tell everyone that the one with the most votes gets-- Ah." She was ready to talk and spill but... Nana closed her mouth before she could continue, hearing her more nervous neighbor speak. "Tsuru-san said she cleaned up Madaraki's room. She also asked where was everyone during investigation so we could figure out... Nya know, what everynyan knows and solve this whole murder deal." She gave a thumbs up to Rurira, now assigning herself as the other's speaker-- There were some good things about being a loudmouth. "Ah, but if nyall have something meow-r (more) you'd like to talk about, I'm all ears~!"

LAURENCE:

Laurence approached their podium with shaky legs and a big nervous smile. They hadn't said anything, their eyes darting around the room rapidly. It's fine. Treat this like a game. People solve murders in video games all the time. How hard could it be? Well... Very hard when you were underprepared. Not to mention that you were playing with people's lives. But knowing that would only raise the difficulty. Man... This video game metaphor thing was not working at all. Now was the time for Laurence to use their brain. That's all. Just breathe.

DESMOND:

Entering with his group, he gives them one last look before heading to his podium. His expression is...hard to read. Giving everyone a moment to settle, Desmond nods at what Rurira said. “In addition to what Rurira asks, I’d also like everyone who wasn’t at the courtyard this morning - whether they didn’t get invited, or didn’t accept Chizuru’s invitation - to state where they were when the body was discovered.” “And if you were invited but refused to attend...I’d like to know why.”

IYASA:

"Well-" Iyasa began, using a gentle tone, "I was at the courtyard when the blast happened, and...after everyone else seemed to go chase ah...whoever that was...I remained behind and tried to stamp out the fires so they would not spread." He paused, sighing in resignation, "I remained there, with Hayashi-san and MASA-san, the three of us investigated the source of the explosion a little. I fear we did not find much, but-- ah...we can discuss that later, I suppose..."

MICHAEL:

"You guys are jumping into this...really fast. I mean, there's...something weird here." Michael speaks up after a few minutes, scratching the back of his head -- or rather, making an attempt to. "Nana talked about vague language like "punishment", but haven't we already...seen that? To the point where it's...a major issue?" He tilts his head at that, before making a lazy gesture to point at Miamikuma. "That...Californikuma file or whatever. Isn't it really half assed? I mean, the cause of death is just...organ failure. That could mean a lot of things. In, like, games and stuff, with how she was bleeding from the mouth, I would think poison or something, but...there's a reason the cause of death isn't...specific, right? Like there's something Nevadakuma's trying to...hide here. We don't even...know which or how many organs failed. And it's not like we're medical professionals...or anything." He shrugs at that, before tilting his head up to scan the room briefly. "I mean, what could be used...to cause organ failure in Chichi anyway...? Maybe she brought something like that with her herself? But she died - - really fast. From when we last saw her. And I don't think she had any wounds. Unless they're...somehow internal. We can't do that now, anyway. But -- Nebraskakuma's trying to keep things really...vague here. In terms of the cause of death. Couldn't there -- be a reason for that? Like...he probably wants to make this...difficult, or something. Considering all the. Setup. So -- maybe being more specific about Chichi's cause of death -- would make the suspect list more specific, too?" He lets the question hang in the air for a bit, before shrugging." Sorry. I'm not a detective...or anything."

RURIRA:

Rurira looks confused at Nana’s words for a moment. She shakes her head, and then nods. “I cleaned up Chizuru’s room. It was really messy, the bed was unmade and there was blood, Chizuru’s hand was bloody, she was coughing into her hand, and there was papers though Desmond cleaned those up, and all of the furniture, I made sure it was neat… why should …” Ah, if anyone found the crime scene a little more organized than initially found, looks like it was Rurira’s doing. She adjusts her mask with both hands again as she looks at her fellow classmates. ”How could anyone… here… Chizuru is our friend… Chizuru invited me to meet her.” Rurira blinks at Michael as if she’s just hearing the word ‘punishment’ for the first time. “Will… wh-what will happen to us?” She looks distressed, but after knowing Rurira for a year, no one should be surprised. CW: needles talk “Chizuru, Chizuru….” Rurira makes a gesture to showcase what she means, pretending to inject herself with a syringe into her upper left arm. “Chizuru had been injecting herself with something, yes, could she have just succumbed to her own experiments? Her own suffering?” She's mumbling nonsense again… /end cw Rurira straightens up suddenly, eyes wide and body shaking. “She’s been coughing up blood for a while now, it seems, when we check-checked her wastebin and… the hand with the… she’s been coughing up blood… there was a handprint on her bedsheets…” Rurira brings up her hands into her hair, closing her eyes. She takes a deep breath. Her thoughts are so out of order. “Mmm… Let me start over.” Take your time, Rurira. “I don’t know if she ingested something poisonous, but she’s definitely been coughing up blood due to something… the...birth conditional, maybe...” Her voice trails off there, but that makes more sense now, huh? “The… Nana, Miyu…. Desmond and I, we found a bloody smear on the West Bathroom handle, and a trail of blood going from the bathroom to Chizuru’s room. Paired with the blood in her hand, implying she’s been coughing into it, and how there was a bloody handprint on her bedsheets matching the size of it… there’s a timeline here we need to figure out.” She holds onto her podium and looks around with a shaky expression. this post is getting too long so i’ll hold off on some other things rurira might want to say so we can discuss! sorry this was two messages

MUTSUMI:

“Well, Brandt-san...” Letting a little groan escape his lips, the cracking of muscles popped against each pause of the counselor’s delivery. “... this may come to a shock given... yours and Tsuru-san’s budding acquaintanceship with the recently deceased... but Chizuru Madaraki was not the easiest to get along with...is it any wonder for the low turnout to the event, myself included?” Scratching his chin with a yawn, the ever disinterested appearance of Mutsumi was once again highlighted with droopy eyes closing. “Whatever information she was planning to divulge... her character was off putting to most, which I’m certain was a factor in this. My time sleeping in was certainly... something I appreciated more.” ... Despite the uncomfortableness of the tone Mutsumi spoke on, the counselor simply continued. “Why don’t we all... continue discussion. Brandt-san, you ran off with... what I would assume be Madaraki’s briefcase. Would you be so kind... as sharing the contents?”

DESMOND:

“While Rurira’s suggestion - that Chizuru’s death was due to her own illness - could have some merit, I have my doubts.” Desmond says, “As you pointed out senpai, I took Chizuru’s briefcase and it’s lock was forced open” Turning his attention to Mutsumi, Desmond doesn’t seem phased at all by his tone. “Before I get into all of the details, could you just clarify senpai - are you implying that you were invited, but didn’t attend, or that you weren’t invited at all?”

TSUTOMU:

Tsutomu didnt find much, A laughable attempt at investigation had yielded little in the way of evidence so they listened. Tsutomu was good at that in fact. Listening to his classmates go round and round, having Isaya vouch for their findings meant Tsutomu didnt need to draw attention. And yet he was as always piecing things together like it was a puzzle. A direct solution to an otheriwise complex set of clues and misdirection. "Excuse me, just so im clear as to what has been said so far, Chizuru's brief case was forced open but there was no sign of forced entry to her room.... where her body was found? So she wasn't running from her Killer." Tsutomu paused. "... If there was a killer. Regardless someone wanted us to find Madaraki's Body at the very least otherwise why lead us there. Which means someone knew beforehand Chizuru was dead and they forced open her brief case for.... i suppose her research, but who would benefit from knowing what Madaraki was studying?" Tsutomu's eyes glanced around the trial room, searching the faces of his classmates for a tell, something to denote guilt, or perhaps even witheld information. His own gaze remaining impassive as ever. "Anyway this is a digression, Desmond if you would be so kind as to tell what were the contents of the case?"

DESMOND:

Desmond's gaze wanders the room, meeting everyone's gaze for a moment before it settles on Chizuru’s empty podium beside him. “There was a lot of things. I went into detail about all of its contents when I was investigating with Rurira, Nana and Miyu, but I’ll try to condense it to the most important parts.” Desmond says, nodding at each of the others in turn. “Please remind me of anything if you feel like I missed something. I would also appreciate it if everyone would be understanding of the fact that, unfortunately, I cannot read any languages that use cyrillic.” “The most important thing that we were able to discern is that we were able to confirm that Chizuru was sick. And I have reason to believe that being here was likely making it worse.” “We found information about Madaraki Syndrome - an illness caused by damaged DNA that can cause immunodeficiency, predisposition to tumor development, increased chance of malformation of one or more internal organs, physical birth defects, among other things.” “The case study proposition - the document we found this information on - also noted that Ibrayeva, or IBa, Cells, a radiation damaged cancer cell, are the most dangerous part of this illness because - among other things - those cells directly attack the individual's healthy cells and will cause total organ failure. However, the document also states that creating a gene therapy vaccine has been attempted using genomes C.sphaerospermum.” “All this information is relevant because the briefcase also has several petri dishes with growths in them - one labeled C.Sphaerospermum, one labeled IBa Cells, and one labeled Modified Patient Stem Cells. The additional equipment in the briefcase - 5 syringes containing various substances - one of which is empty, please make note of that - an emergency surgical kit, along with her other notes and observations - imply that Chizuru was attempting to treat herself, but according to her notes was not succeeding. She had made note that she was feeling extremely nauseous, light headed, fatigued, had trouble breathing, had nosebleeds, intense migraines, and an overall pain rating of 9. Desmond takes a moment to pause, allowing everyone to mull over the information he had presented before continuing. “As I mentioned previously, one of the syringes was empty. In her notes, Chizuru recorded that she had injected an extra dose.” He’ll let them make the connection themselves. “The last thing I’d like to say - for now, since it is relevant - is that prior to her death, I spent some time with Chizuru, and she had significant concerns regarding the abnormal radiation levels she was recording.” “In our discussions while walking around, Chizuru told me that typically, a regular person would only be exposed to 1 millisievert of radiation a year. Absorbing that much radiation all at once is enough to pose a serious health risk. But based on her readings and observations, just being here for a week has exposed us to just under 2 millisieverts of radiation.”

After sharing this final piece of information, Desmond sighs, and for a moment looks visibly exhausted...before he returns to looking as neutral as ever. “Please let me know if there are any points you’d like me to clarify.”

SUMIKO:

Sumiko may not be smart... That's it. Despite being an incredibly modern piece of technology, her AI wasn't exactly the minds of the scientists who had created her. No, not really. To her core she was still learning about everything new. And you'd assume that a piece of technology like herself would understand science at least, but... The invention looked more and more confused as Desmond threw out fancy words. You could practically hear the gears turning in her head (literally) as she tried to keep up, confused and bewildered. She wasn't great at this murder mystery stuff, which was a shame considering how much she liked to watch detective movies. However, something clicked and she raised her hand politely.

"I wanna look at the briefcase, please!" She didn't wait to be called on and excitedly bounced up and down on her heels as she spoke, staring at Desmond. "Cause... I think I can do something! But it's a surprise, like, uhm, like in movies! And also just in case I do it wrong, kyohohoho!"

DESMOND:

"I would prefer to know regardless." Desmond replies. "I know you mean well Sumiko...but at this point I don't think that a surprise is something we'd be comfortable with..."

SUMIKO:

She frowns. "But Dessie! I just want to look at it! And if I can't actually figure it out I'll be super embarrassed!" She pouted. "Please? I promise I won't let you down!"

DESMOND:

"You won't let us down." Desmond assures her. "But please Sumiko. I think that it'd be best if we know what you're planning. Do you all agree?" He asks, turning his attention to the rest of the room."

IYASA:

Iyasa clears his throat and looks toward Desmond with a soft, reassuring smile (as good as he can muster, anyway). "Perhaps you can hold the contents of the briefcase to show her, if you are concerned with damages of some kind...? It seems ill-advised to withhold evidence if she can potentially offer some insight...right?"

SUMIKO:

"Aaawawawaa, don't get everyone else to agree with you!" She wailed, holding her head. "I just want to try and translate, that's all! I know a bunch of languages and codes!" She was sulking now, upset that her cool entrance was being dunked on.

DESMOND:

Desmond smiles at Sumiko, looking fond. "I appreciate you telling me Sumiko. Was there anything in particular you wanted to look at?" He asks. "The cyrillic text can be found on the front plaque of the briefcase, in some of the binders, and on the syringes. There is also a voice recorder, with a recording that I do not understand"

SUMIKO:

"All of it, please!" She holds her hands out expectantly, beaming from ear to ear. She was actually pretty excited to have a look at everything, that excitement only multiplying at Desmond's fond expression. "Just leave it to me!"

Sumiko took the case from Desmond, picking up the writing first and reading it over. Her smile slowly starts to fade as her pupils dilate much like a camera lens, flicking through the binder. She slowly moves to the recording, letting it play as her mechanics whirred gently. Her expression changes a few times as it continues and she closed her eyes for a few seconds as it ends. For a moment she's completely silent, processing everything she just read and heard. Then, her head lowers.

"..." Her voice glitches out a few times, almost like she's stammering as she tries to figure out how to phrase everything. "... It's not important to the case, I don't think, but... I think she did have the disease for sure. I think. Maybe. It doesn't say for certain, just..." She shakes her head, a gentle whimper escaping the robot as she slowly folded into a crouching position behind her podium.

"Uhm. The syringes say... 'Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Thursday'. Three of the full ones read Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, have a muddy red/yellow substance inside. The one which is mostly empty, with only a small amount of clear liquid inside, reads Thursday. But the sticker is wrong on Thursday. The rest of the stickers are perfect." She goes silent again, sullen and not even celebrating her help. "... Please don't ask me to repeat the recording or the binder. I don't wanna." She quickly adds, burying her face in her hands.

IYASA:

Despite his apprehension during the trial, Iyasa remained attentive during the surprisingly long lists of findings that others were bringing forward. Watching Sumiko's reaction to what she heard and read, he frowned slightly. "I'm...I admit, I'm rather confused. If I can...attempt to summarize..." he took a breath, "So...Madaraki-san was sick, terribly so...she kept her research regarding that sickness in her briefcase, along with medicine she created and self-administered. She...believed she had made a major discovery, hence her inviting us to the courtyard. Then, as we arrived, an explosion happened just as the meeting was scheduled to start. We saw a cloaked figure run past, presumably going to Madaraki-san's room, which had been presumably ransacked for no discernable reason. Ah...judging by the time of death, she had just...died...almost as soon as she was found...right?" He paused, looking upon the underclassmen and then toward his own classmate, "So...did she die of natural causes? Did the radiation she found worsen her symptoms to the point where her medication no longer helped...? Was she responsible for the explosion, was she the cloaked figure? If not, then who? And why? I...feel as though we have a great deal of evidence with no solid...understanding of what occurred. I...apologize...am I making sense? Was...she even--....was she really...murdered?"

ASH:

Ash didn't really investigate, unfortunately, but they were following along the best that they could, taking little notes in their notepad. Memory issues were horrid today. Regardless, Ash clears their throat. "... Ah... I would like to say I'm also confused... All of the syringes were the same, save for one? With a different-colored liquid inside? And that one had the 'sticker wrong'...? Are we sure this medication wasn't tampered with, in some way? I understand that she apparently used an extra dose, but... What if that was the dose that was tampered with...?" "If... That is the case, this still could very well be a murder," Ash pauses. "But if I'm missing something- And I feel like I am- You are all, ah... Free to correct me..." They do not seem very confident here, for once.

RURIRA:

After speaking, Rurira seems to zone out a bit - or a lot, actually. She’s staring blankly at the floor, not even her usual mumbled-out-loud thoughts making an appearance. She has long stopped gripping her podium and now just sways slightly in place as the conversation continues without her. It seems that despite her clocking out of the trial for a few moments, she must’ve understood what was still going on, because she pipes up at the “...Not… Not sure if any of her actual medication was tampered with from the source… in the second drawer of her dresser there were a lot of medication bottles. Many were unlabeled, and others were handwritten in - I’m assuming it was Kazakh. Of the ones in Japanese there were…” Rurira brings her hands up to start listing them off of her fingers: Midodrine, which is a medication to treat low blood pressure and anemic symptoms (hypotension). Prednisone, a medication to treat joint inflammation, immune system dysfunction, and breathing problems. Hydrocodone… heavy-duty painkillers. Rizatriptan, this is a medication to treat migraines. And… Progesterone, a hormone replacement medication.” She nods to herself, ensuring she’s correct. “Finally, there were some more medical supplies in the last drawer - hemostatic nosebleed dressings and a bronchodilator. Which is an inhaler. Next to it were a few canisters with varying names near it. This device is used to treat bronchiectasis.” “None of these items looked like they were tampered with - in fact, this dresser drawer seemed completely untouched, which was odd considering her top drawer definitely looked rifled through, like… like the rest of her room. But I'm unsure if these have anything to do with what's in the briefcase.” She thinks a little for a moment. “In one of her journals, in that first drawer, she had some entries in Japanese talking about her time here. There were pages missing, ripped out. The last one, most recent, read… something along the lines of her ‘attempting another invasive test’ and that she would need ‘a kn...kn-knife, or something of the sort.’” She looks to her classmates for help in this. She wipes some sweat off the side of her face. She seems feverish, or perhaps just really affected by the circumstances. “The… the sticker sounds like it was removed and then replaced, but… I’m not sure.” She clears her throat. “Also, I’m not sure if the cloaked figure was Chizuru - I have a feeling she may have been in the bathroom instead of the meeting, and walked from there to her room. It was only a coincidence we caught her dorm room open before it was nearly closed. It was swinging slightly, after all... She must’ve collapsed as soon as we got there.” She adjusts her face masks once more, eyebrows furrowing in worry. “Would she even have the energy to run so quickly, if she was coughing up blood? If her pain was at a level 9?” She’s shaking her head, not thinking that it’d be the case.

MUTSUMI:

“An invasive test...? About that...” With a low hum in contemplation, Mutsumi bobbed around, the hum slowly turning lyrical as the counselor slowly swung in place behind his podium. “Given the circumstances... and what has been unveiled about Chizuru Madaraki and her... shortening time limit, is it out of the question that her invasive test... was on us? Once again, it was certainly a point the deceased made... of how she felt about us.” Turning to his robotic compatriot, Mutsumi brushes away dusty locks to no avail, wispy strands falling back into place before his eyes. “Invention-san, I think it’s vital... that we learn the nature of Chizuru Madaraki’s experiments... just exactly was she attempting here? Is it anything related... to the explosive incident in the courtyard?” With a breathy sigh, Mutsumi massaged his neck. All this speaking was starting to give him a sore throat.

LAURENCE:

"Um... Uh..." Laurence decided to take this brief interlude to get some thoughts out. "I don't know... I think it's a murder after all. If there were unusually high radiation levels, then something or someone was causing them. So if that killed her, then whoever made that happen would be the killer. I think." Laurence rubs the back of their neck. "Besides, would, uh... Would Miamikuma make us do this trial for a death caused by illness?" Laurence looked over at Miamikuma. They weren't expecting the bear to weigh in, but who knows! "Also... Whoever threw that water balloon at her at the talent show should probably come forward. Just so we can confirm that isn't related to the case." Laurence hadn't forgotten that incident.

IYASA:

There were a few beats of silence as the recent questions hung in the air. It seemed that no one was willing to speak up of such things. "I...feel similarly to Morishibe-san, at least in that...I am wondering what the purpose of that explosion was, and what kind of experiment she was planning to perform. I...would not so quickly suggest that she was willing to cause us harm, but...it is not something I'm willing to discount either for at least...having some relation to what happened...I am unsure." Iyasa seemed uncomfortable to even be suggesting such a thing, causing him to look away from his classmate for a moment, muttering an apology as he realized how ill he had spoken of the dead just then. "As for...your suggestion, Laurence, as much as I want to know as well, I...doubt such a culprit would come forward now. With Madaraki-san...dead...I think...anyone would fight to hide their involvement in that sort of assault. Or else...ah...they would just put suspicion on themselves simply by virtue of having pulled such a cruel prank. Especially with a "punishment" looming...I have my doubts we will see a straight answer about that..." He turned his gaze once again toward those who he knew were in attendance at the meeting, "Did anyone get a good look at the figure who ran? Their size, or any other details? Perhaps that will help us to narrow down something...we at least know a few people it could not have been, based on who was present in the courtyard."

MICHAEL:

"..." Mike is silent for a second, before he looks up. "Who was...the last person who saw Chichi -- because, I think...I had a conversation with her. Before she -- died. Obviously. And we were...talking about Sumiko." He stops there for a second, pressing his fingers together awkwardly as if trying to put the words together in his mind, letting out a sigh afterwards. "I...wondered if -- the bomb. Wyomingkuma said that -- it would kill someone no matter what...right? And if -- Sumiko is, a robot, right, I wondered if...even if she didn't -- know, because...I don't know. AI -- I don't...know what she is, exactly. The specifics. But I wanted to...ask Chichi -- what if...the bomb was inside someone. Like in...movies. And things. And down that line of...thinking, wouldn't it be easier to...put the bomb in Sumiko compared to -- the rest of us. Like, if...she got hacked somehow. And if she -- blew up, that would kill her...definitely, right? So that would make things...true. But the bomb that went off. Was that the actual bomb? In that case, did...someone find it? Chichi was...busy checking radiation levels everywhere while we talked. She was doing that as soon as this...killing game thing. Started. Maybe even before then. But she told me -- if there was a bomb, she would have found it. But maybe she did find it. Or someone with her did -- what I'm saying, is, that...I think that maybe...the person who killed Chichi -- would have been close with her? Someone...like that? Who she would. Let hang around her. Maybe even into her room. Maybe she found the bomb. And it was what she wanted to show us. Maybe that was it. Something like that. But she got...stabbed in the back. But not literally. There's no wounds...Right? Yeah." He takes a second to breathe. Talking is hard. Words are hard. "...And maybe, the, uh. Person. We saw -- maybe they're...a third party. Maybe someone else tried to kill her too. Or something."

NANA:

"Woah, woah~ I think you might be barking up the wrong tree?" Nana raised her hand, leaning forward to bring a little bit of attention to herself. "For the most part, unless it's explicitly part of the motive Uglykuma shouldn't be able to directly kill us. I mean, like, he very much can if we break a rule or, uh, weeeell..." Nana pauses, rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't directly looking towards anyone, it seemed like she was holding something back. "Even so..." she starts up again, clearing her voice, "he's shown, eh.... Well I wouldn't really call it mercy per se, but I guess restraint? But nyanyways~ Even the dummy bear has his own set of rules he can't outright betray, lucky us, riiiight?" "But if you're asking for more info on the figure, Takashima-chan can help with that!" This might be the first time Nana has ever referred to herself through just her last name. "I've been thinking that we got some really cute people in our class~" Oh god what is she even saying. "So I always thought that'd it'd be super duper neato if some of you guys considered becoming idols. Ah, but we'd have to get into units, riiight? Working together as a group seems to be the best way to go!" She was smiling more, her cat ears perked up and her tail swishing gently. "So since I've never really seen everynyan dance or sing, the best way I could group people is by height~! And if Madaraki-san was in a group, I'd pair her with Inaba, Nisha, Morishibe, Brandt, or Tsuru. Those are the ones closest to her height. Ah, and I guess I would put Mysterious Figure-san as well since they were her height too, nya know~"

DESMOND:

“We can narrow that list down even further.” Desmond says after Nana finishes her piece. “Out of those five people that you mentioned, Rurira, Miyu, and I were already in the courtyard - you, Adrian, Sumiko, Masa and Tsutomu can vouch for that. That would leave only Amami or Mutsumi as those who are of a similar height to the person we saw running away, and were absent from the courtyard.” Turning his gaze to Michael and Iyasa, Desmond continues, “Regarding the explosion. When we investigated the area, we found evidence of a small fire having been built out of garbage, papers, a discarded empty gacha capsule, a small tube of glue and some scraps from the kitchen. The glue looked like it came from the commissary, and we confirmed with Ramsey that someone had taken a half-empty bottle of cooking oil and the contents of the grease trap.” He says. “Based on that information I think that we can infer that the explosion that happened in the courtyard wasn’t part of Miamikuma’s threat. Or at the very least, it wasn’t structured in a way to cause death or a massive amount of destruction.” “Looking back at the explosion, while it was...impressive, frankly, it reminded me more of the types of explosions I’ve seen on movie sets - all show, no actual substance. So i think that, perhaps, that explosion was a distraction, not an actual attempt on any of our lives.”

AMAMI:

"I heard you need my word for today?" Her arms crossed the entire time, Amami raises her head, eyes peering down to Desmond, who called her attention. "You all should know by now that I am always fashionably late in gatherings, and this one isn't even an exception! It'd be a disappointment to see anyone try their minds in accusing me when my room was nowhere near Madaraki-san's. However, I found something or rather, someone, that may interest any of you. Riddle me this." She bats an eye at Mutsumi's direction. "As I was investigating Madaraki-san's room alone, it bothers me how Morishibe-san has done nothing but stand by the door the whole time and watch me. Listen to me, what is he? Placed in guard duty like a security guard to make sure none of the evidence has been tampered with. Everything in the room has already been picked up by a certain group who selfishly kept the briefcase to themselves until this very moment. What's there to steer clear of?" "Now, tell me how suspicious that was, but not at my face."

MUTSUMI:

Ears twitching like a wild rabbit startled into a flurry, hazy eyes pulled up from the slouch the counselor had slowly sunk into during the duration of his last keynote.

With a short snort, the student straightened up his posture. The furrowed brows and spacey look glazing over Mutsumi’s eyes quickly shifted with a succession of quick blinks. The mildly surprised expression painting the face of a student who certainly did not just dose off during a rather sweltering accusation simply wilted back into a usual, sloth like demeanor. .

“…yes, that is a suspicious course of action… I guess the person addressed is a suspicious person then…” .

Craning his neck, Mutsumi lets a slow, breathy sigh pass his nostrils and the muscles audibly crack under his skin. Eyes closed, the motions of a cat lazily stretching under a sunbeam coming to mind as the counselor lifts his arms.

“…What is a suspicious person like that to do… when burdened with the responsibility as your senpai, I wonder?” Arms outstretched the heavens, Mutsumi opens a single eye as his arms fall to a shrug.

“…What can a suspicious person like me do in a situation like this?”

“Would you say it’s suspicious that I’ve gotten to know everyone here… but not everyone here has gotten to know me? Would you say its suspicious that thrust into the role as an upperclassmen chaperone… I’m forced to keep tabs on the students, to know them… Like I would the back of my hand? To know their daily schedules… but keep at an arm’s distance, unlike some others who… would let their guard down on their duties…” Shooting over a glance at… someone in particular, A twitch flickered on the counselor’s brow line. “Given that sort of information about… that kind of suspicious individual… what would you think of them? Would you trust that kind of person?”

Relaxing a knit in his brow, it appeared as if the counselor would almost look something other than disinterested in the moment.

“What would you think of a suspicious individual like that discovering a body of classmate? Would you trust anything they would have to say, or would your suspicions prevent you from moving forward without bias? Perhaps this suspicious individual simply likes to drape tarps over themselves and flee blindly… haphazardly into the dewy morning hours. Maybe that’s simply… one of their hobbies. Or perhaps… in a flurry of a shocked discovery… amongst a distraction to pull away from somebody in particular taking the time to dispose of… evidence, a split decision was made… to make an even bigger suspicious scene than the one occurring… and draw bystanders to the scene before such a thing could occur…” Letting out a dry cough, the counselor’s hazy eyes stared downcast at his podium. “That’s just… a theory out there, perhaps. Maybe… that’s just the kind of person this suspicious individual is… thrust into a role utterly out of his league… unable to solve problems on his own…” … Taking a moment to roll up a sleeve, Mutsumi looked away as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, a hitched inhale extending to a yawn. “…That’s what I believe, anyway. Why else join a group to investigate the matter… and relegate himself to whatever is needed? Tell me, Nisha-san… it makes you feel good to put others down during this trial, doesn’t it? It’s kind of unfounded… saying that… especially…” Taking a moment to sway, the counselor fishes a container marked with odd chemical symbols in a plastic bag out of his cardigan. “…When some clues are overlooked…”

NANA:

Nana's eyes moved from one speaker to the next. She dug the ball of her foot into the ground while the other bounced a bit. The tail had begun moving more and even seemed to bristle as her leg bounced with more fervor. Even her cat ears seemed to flick about nervously as people spoke. Finally, she reached up, touching something unseen, hidden by the cat ears. A soft yet quick beep could be heard by the two who were at her side. Her ears perked into a default pose and the tail settled, neither moved again. "Wow~ Can't believe Brandt's trying to get mad at a pretty girl like Nisha for wanting to make an entrance! Geez, didn't you know it's impolite to be rude to cute girls?" Nana laughed a little with her own playful teasing, finally settling both of her feet on the ground. "Please forgive us, Nisha-san! I think people just like to make sure their friend's stuff doesn't get messed with. That's probs why something like a briefcase got moved. To make it up to you, I'll let you but only you look at my diary when I die, okay? Burn it when you're done reading it, I'm a super sensitive girl." "But enough about the secrets of a girl's heart, I can explain our reliable senpai's actions! Tsuru-san was super duper worried something would happen to Madaraki's body so Morishibe volunteered as a guard to ease her worries. Maybe that was all a ploy so he could keep a careful watch over who was discovering what and persnaps even try to discourage them..." She looks thoughtful for just a moment before ending up in a little giggle fit. "If that was the case, he'd super suck at that! We were able to investigate no problemo~ In fact, it was thanks to our one and only super reliable upperclassman that we could proceed with our investigation with no worries~" Nana turned to Mutsumi with a smile, holding up a peace sign to him as well. "Wow, wow~ Is Morishibe-senpai trying his hardest to look suspicious or something? Who else would bring out a container that held…” she squinted, looking at a bit closer, “Mercury. Just where did you find that?”

IYASA:

Iyasa listened to the various details and accusations that arose, but it wasn't until Mutsumi almost directly questioned Iyasa's efficacy as a chaperone that he flinched and showed a hurt expression. "I...deeply apologize, Morishibe-san, I have been doing my best. I...did not mean to leave you feeling as though I have shirked my duties...I will be better. All I found was evidence relating to how the explosion was made, but it did not seem very relevant to finding a culprit or determining a sequence of events, so I...let everyone speak first. I--.....regardless...I apologize. I have...not been as attentive of a chaperone as I should have..." He said this softly, bringing his gaze to the floor in shame. The one thing he did that he thought had helped, in fighting the fire, had been a waste of time as well. "I....if it matters, I believe the explosion happened because a partly-filled bottle was glued shut...the fire heated the liquid until it boiled, creating steam and pressure and..well... I...do not believe it is relevant, now, though, I apologize. However....I have-- one theory, but...then I also have a question." He paused briefly, "...what if Madaraki-san's announcement had nothing to do with the radiation itself? I mean.....ah.....is it possible she found something...harmful to someone here? Someone's secret? Perhaps even....relating to the person behind this whole..."game"? Perhaps what she found...gave this person reason to act...it's...just a theory, though..." He paused another beat, glancing at Miamikuma nervously as the theory left his lips, "I...in any case...I....am not certain this host will leave us much more time to deliberate, and as much as I fear voting for a culprit...I fear even greater what might happen if we fail to vote. Does...anyone have any ideas what actually happened? As in....a full summary of events...? Anything...?"

MIYU:

Miyu was confused. Really confused. It was an interesting rabbit hole, Chizuru's medical history, but it went way too deep, far deeper than she ever expected. And the conversation was going all kinds of confusing places. Someone left to guard Chizuru's room? Someone else was accusing them over that fact? There was a bottle of mercury? What??? What is happening? She was confused. "I'm... I'm confused." Thanks Miyu. "Um... We went to the courtyard at 7:30 to wait for Chizuru-san, but she didn't show... and then there was the explosion by the big ugly tower..." She tapped her chin. "And then, a cloaked figure outside the courtyard ran west from the big ugly tower, around the edge of the courtyard, towards the dorms..." She stopped a moment. "Um, did anyone figure out where the figure went? Could they have gone into a different room on the west side, maybe?" Positing over. Apologies if anyone brought it up earlier, her mind wandered. "Anyways, the figure. Brandt-san led the way after them, stopped around Chizuru's room, where we found her... I was late to the chase, so I'm not sure who got there first...?" She looks up, thinking again. "Um, anyways. In terms of what Chizuru might've found out, I wonder if it had to do with the bomb Uglykuma mentioned?" She hmmed under her breath. "I mean, that explosion, Brant-san said it was more... Hollywood-y? More fireball then destructive power? But more importantly I guess it seemed like the bomb was constructed with makeshift parts readily available around here? Not something that was just planted in secret, meant to kill?" She crossed her arms, starting to get on a roll. "Um... along with that, everything related to Chizuru's medical condition seemed to be untouched by whoever tossed her room, which means it had to be something related to this place the culprit was looking for? Like Iyasa-senpai said! Related to the bomb, perhaps, or somethign more..." Her bluster was fading fast. "Um... And does anybody know what killed Chizuru, and how? For a while I was wondering if she hadn't just... died, from complications, but no, someone definitely set up that bomb and led us to her. Possibly after tossing her room, and possibly killing her? What the heck is with that mercury? Where the hell did that come from? That's awfully convenient, but I suppose it could've killed her... But again, how?"

IYASA:

Whether frozen by indecision or otherwise, the gravity of the current decision felt paralyzing. Iyasa's gaze stuck to Miamikuma, unwavering, wondering just how much longer it would lounge around puffing its smoke before forcing them to make their choice. Not much longer, he assumed, and no sound theories had come up. "I...want to try to organize what...might have happened. I believe....as we were locked in, perhaps...Madaraki-san made an enemy, even one who pretended to be her friend. As...Morishibe-san said, some may have felt she was...difficult to get along with. I did not interact with her very much, so...I cannot say for certain myself...but...the water balloon that hit her says that she was...not friends with everyone." A deep breath. "...as we were locked in...she avoided people, and focused on her research. By only inviting a few people to her research reveal, that meant that maybe whatever she found, she only believed she could trust a few people to see it. Anyone not invited was likely someone she did not trust or did not particularly like. What did the attendees have in common? Is there anyone not present who may have been invited, based on that commonality?" He paused again, allowing this question to hang in the air. "In any case...it is clear this was done with the intent to prevent her findings from being revealed publicly, if her journal was damaged as you have described. To stop her event, they...had to....kill her. She was poisoned, if...Morishibe-san's evidence is to be believed...though I...admit I do not know how long it takes for poisons to take effect, so...it is impossible to say when she was poisoned, unless someone knows better...I cannot imagine it took...an incredibly long time...no more than a day...right? Was she poisoned this morning, as we were headed to the courtyard? Was she poisoned as she left the talent show last night?..." Finally bringing his gaze away from Miamikuma, he turned to the underclassmen. "...from there....I believe the possible scenario is...her assailant waited for her to react to the poison...and used that opportunity...of her being weakened...to take the evidence she intended to announce, and left her there to.........succumb. So...I think what we need to focus on is...when was she poisoned, and by who? When was her room ransacked? Who do we suspect would be...both capable and willing...and who do we believe is innocent?"

DESMOND:

“Before we address your points Iyasa-senpai, Mutsumi-senpai, please cut the theatrics - you still haven’t answered Nana’s question.” Demond says flatly, breaking the silence after Iyasa’s last point. “Where did you find that vial? Frankly. Could you please elaborate on the points you made without being as obscure as humanly possible?” “Correct me if I’m wrong, but from that convoluted mess, are you trying to imply that you found Chizuru in her room, dead on the floor, came to the courtyard - because you knew people would be there - in time to see the explosion, and once you saw that we had seen you, you bolted back to Chizuru’s room, knowing that we would follow you. And you did that so that instead of lingering to see what could have caused the explosion, we would find Chizuru’s body before someone could tamper with it before everyone else realized what was going on.” Desmond pauses for a moment before returning his attention to Amami. Staring at her for a long moment, Desmond’s neutral expression turns into a scowl. “What do you mean your room is nowhere near Chizuru’s? You’re literally in the same hallway.” “All of our rooms were assigned alphabetically. And the first four rooms - A to D - are in the same hallway. Adrian, Amami, Ash, then Chizuru.” He lists off. “It's common knowledge where all of our rooms are. And before you point a finger at Ash - since yes, their room is in that hallway, and unlike Adrian hasn’t had anyone vouch for them yet - Ash wasn’t the one who just lied about the location of their room.” “You did.”

MUTSUMI:

“Convoluted... mess? You can’t lead a horse... to water...hmm...” Brows furrowing as Mutsumi trails off, the counselor mumbles the rest of the phrase back to himself before settling back into place. A gaze now sliding between the assortment of characters before him, a slow blink leaves Mutsumi’s eyes as they turn to his addresser. “Well... feeling rather dejected and beyond further use, I decided my final fate to wait out this storm... would be where all the useless garbage goes, the waste disposal room...” With a dry wheeze that someone might mistake for a chuckle, Mutsumi’s pause to look around for reactions are brief. “... that’s a joke of course. There’s only one way to reliably dispose of unwanted items here... burying it in the waste disposal room. Scoping the area... seemed to be somewhat of a logical choice, I think. And it looks like something came out of it...” Swaying as he leaned into his podium, the counselor’s expression darkened. “...Do you get what I’m saying, Brandt-san? There’s a lot of suspicious people... all letting out the bare minimum... but the most suspicious... just keeps burying themselves even further in their own garbage every time they open their mouth... desperate to give themselves an alibi. But... it’s something they can’t help, after all... just like they cobbled together... a flaming distraction of garbage... they just can’t help putting garbage back together.” ... “...As for the cause of death, now that we know the cause, I think we know someone here... who can tell us a bit more about it. The timeline will be... a bit more clear then. And don’t worry... given the... kind of sloppy timing of it all, they’re not the murderer... this time...” With another placid placement of blinks, Mutsumi shifts his gaze away, awaiting a response from the group.

LAURENCE:

"Ah, could that be it!?" Laurence suddenly exclaimed in surprise. They had been silently mulling over the ideas presented to them throughout this trial. "I think... I think I may have an idea. Of what Chizuru wanted to talk to us about." Though they weren't the happiest about it. "She said there were super high radiation levels around the place. Well... I'm convinced that I know where they were coming from. I think that she figured it out too. Those invasive tests... I think she was going to scan everyone with her radioactive scanner. One by one. One of us was the cause of the radioactivity." Laurence turns to face Sumiko. "Sumiko... The truth is that you run on nuclear energy, don't you?" They nod. "That would explain it. High levels of radiation. Sumiko loves to be around other people, and if there was some sort of leak in her body... Well, that wouldn't turn out good for any of us. When you read the dossier and heard the audio tape, you seemed really shocked and upset. Is it because you finally made the connection?" They look very solemn as they turn their attention back to the crowd. "I... I can't think of anything that would be able to be around something irradiated without dying... besides a robot. Chizuru had to tell us all about it right away, especially given her condition." "So that's why... Why I think you must have killed her, Sumiko. To keep your secret." Laurence hugs themselves and stares down at the podium, not exactly happy about accusing a fellow classmate of murder.

MICHAEL:

"..." Michael looks up at that, looking straight at Laurence, before looking at Sumiko. "...You heard me earlier, didn't you? About what me and Chichi talked about. That you were suspicious. I mean, you're a robot -- you could be hacked, or something. But. Still. I asked Chichi, and...you know what she said?" Michael crosses his arms at that. His knees shake slightly, as his head tilts down, like he can't meet Sumiko's eyes. "Chichi...was adamant that you had just as much as a right to live as the rest of us. She was...rough around the edges. I know that. We all know that. But she cared about us -- that was obvious. She saw you as a person, Sumiko." For more likely than not the first time for everyone here, Michael moves. Not slowly and lethargically, not lazily, not like he's wading through sludge -- there's a quick snap of motion, as he slams his hands down on his podium. The sound of the impact echoes around the room, as for the first time in who knows how long, Michael yells. "So tell me! Tell everyone! That! It! Wasn't! You! That it was some accident! Or Chichi was just really sick! Or the bear lied about everything! Tell! Me! You! Didn't! Kill! Her! Tell me you DIDN'T KILL HER! TELL ME! NO ONE! HERE! KILLED! ANYONE!" The energy from that outburst seemed to evaporate from Michael, as he slammed his hands down on the podium with each beat. Letting out a long gasp for air, his fists continued to shake as he returned to staring at the floor. "...I'm gonna...be blunt here. You don't wanna repeat...the recording. Sure. You don't wanna. But did Chichi...wanna...die!? Huh!? Did she wanna die? No! No, she didn't! But she did! Do you wanna die? Do you want everyone here to die!? Is that what you want? No -- No, like hell it is!" Michael's back to yelling, his movements frantic and angry. "So tell us what you're hiding already...! I want to believe in you! I want to believe in what Chichi said! I don't know what it's like for you, that's true, but..." He looks up again, gaze focused straight on Sumiko. "I know it's probably hard. I know it isn't easy. I know you asked me not to. But I want to believe that you didn't do anything. There's something you're hiding. We all...know it at this point. And if you -- if you don't say anything, people are going to vote for you. And...no matter what the truth is, in that case, you'll die. And we'll all die, too, probably. Because I want...to believe that you didn't kill her. But there has to be something...in what you're hiding. So please." He takes a deep breath. "...Please tell us." And one more motion, as he throws out his arm. "Please! Show me that Chichi was right! That I was wrong! That I was wrong to suspect you! PROVE ME WRONG!"

MIYU:

Miyu raised her hand slowly, hesitantly. "Umm... I have a question. Didn't we all agree that the figure we saw could've only been a certain height? Didn't we narrow it down to Amami-san and Mutsumi-san? Isn't... Isn't Sumi-chan a whole foot shorter?" She blinked, unsure of her words. "So I'm confused... Even if something is wrong with Sumi-chan, why are we accusing her of murder all of a sudden?" Her bluster faded, and she looked down. "I mean, I... wanna know what this was all about too, but... it feels like we're jumping the gun a bit, yeah?" And she trailed off. She didn't have much right to speak when this was still all an extremely confusing mess in her head. Nothing made sense, so she may as well not chime in when she didn't understand. But something clicked in her head. "Wait, the water balloon? Could that have been when she was... poisoned? Assuming she was? It'd be nice if we could do a blood test, or something, to actually confirm she was poisoned with mercury. Would that even be enough to do it, though? I mean, her health was compromised, so perhaps, but... Oh, I don't know..." She trailed off again. Don't mind her.

DESMOND:

Like everyone else, Desmond listens carefully and silently to what everyone else is saying...but anyone looking at the blond has a very distinct impression that despite his calm demeanor he is...irritated. “As a reminder. Could we please keep the theatrics to a minimum? We’ve barely gotten anywhere despite how much evidence has been brought forward.” “So Mutsumi-senpai found the vial of mercury in the waste disposal room.” He says. “The question we should be attempting to answer now is why, and how it could fit in with Chizuru’s death.” Pausing, Desmond’s eyebrows knit together, eyes flicking toward several people in the room before settling back on Mutsumi. Sighing he pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself quietly in french before looking foward. “Going back to one of Iyasa-senpai’s points - and linking it to Miyu’s suggestion - perhaps Chizuru did get poisoned prior to today. I can’t imagine organ failure happening that quickly especially if it wasn’t caused by external and very violent trauma. And maybe there was mercury in the water balloon. If anyone is familiar with the way mercury behaves and whether liquid mercury coming into contact with skin after being diluted is particularly hazardous, please speak up. “Addressing another one of Iyasa-senpai’s points - ‘what did the attendees to the 7:30am meeting have in common’? What we have in common is that Chizuru expected us to take what she said seriously.” Desmond lets the implication of what that says about everyone else who wasn’t in attendance left unsaid. “And I agree - I think that Iyasa-senpai is right that whomever killed her wanted to hide her research from us because there’s still pieces of Chizuru’s research missing.” “But getting back to the point that I made earlier that seems to have been left unaddressed…” “Amami lied to all of us, to our faces. Earlier, we narrowed down that the figure running away from the explosion could have been either Mutsumi-senpai or Amami. And in response to that observation Amami said that me questioning her was ‘disappointing’ when ‘her room is nowhere near Chizuru’s. Her room is in the same. Hallway.” Turning his gaze to Lawrence, and Michael, Desmond’s gaze hardens. “I can understand Mutsumi-senpai glossing over that - I had asked him a separate question after all - but are you seriously going off on a separate tangent when we just caught someone in a lie?” “Answer Amami. Now. Why did you lie about where your room was.”

AMAMI:

Of course , of course, Amami knows well a case like this would be to her taste, no wonder. While she listens, she's been taking mental notes of most of the details presented, including Nana's little diary. Still with arms crossed, she then flashes Desmond a pursed smile that quickly dissolved into a frown upon being accussed of lying. Mutsumi wasn't wrong when she did feel good on putting him down this trial, yet Desmond's a completely different case. How many times has he asked her to speak up? Is he this desperate of shooting her down? "I can see where you're coming from, Desmond-san, yet... I've no intention to lie. Have you forgotten of the stairs dividing rooms A to D? My room is not in the same hallway. It's not on the same floor as Chizuru's. You need to run down the stairs to get to hers. Mine doesn't require that strenuous effort." She rolls her eyes. "Not that it matters either. We are all aware that the general direction where the cloaked figure around my height ran to is west, and guess what, rooms A to D, as well as many others, are in the west half." A moment of silence ensues, then she sighs, looking at her classmates. "I'll cut to the chase since none of you can take a hint or two. My alibi is as plain as the clear blue sky you've been missing dearly since the explosions, I was in my room the entire time, preparing for that meeting. Like jeez, can't you be more considerate towards a girl?" Amami holds her forehead, seemingly displeased of the other. "There. That's my immediate answer. And before Your Kindness also answers your other question, do tell us how much mercury has been used from the vial."

SUMIKO:

A dull hum came from Sumiko's circuits as she recovered from her moment of sadness. It wasn't cute at all, and she was adorable! So she had to stop crying in order to be her normal cute adorable self, right? She wiped her tears and brightened up in an instant as she listened in, just a tad confused. And by a tad, I mean a whole lot. Just because she was a piece of technology did not make her smart in the slightest. In fact, she was incredibly stupid. But when Laurence turned to her and spoke, she blinked a few times. Radiation... Powered... "Snrk-" She snickered, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled at them.

"Silly Laurence! There's no way that Sumiko is nuclear powered! I was made by one man only! My Papa! Do you realise how many years and how many people it would take to make a robot that was nuclear powered?" She laughed, turning her torso so that her back was facing the crowd. "Also!" She opened a flap and pulled out a plug. "Here's my charger! You guys have probably seen it before, kyohoho! I am powered by electricity, not nuclear power!" She put it away and spun her torso back around, rocking back and forth on her feet with a smile. "Is that all? Cause your evidence doesn't add up at all! I won't kill Zuru Zuru cause that's illegal! Papa said I'm not allowed to do illegal things!"

NANA:

"Geez, why does it feel like I'm telling a lot of you to not pick on cute girls..." Nana sighs and fusses with her bangs a bit before raising her hand again to bring the attention back to her. "Alrighty~ So since it seems like Brandt's gonna get super peeved if we keep going with theatrics the always lazy and super cute Nana will try and make some of these things easier to understand, okie dokie?" "First off, let's talk about what we have in common. Is it really that'd we'd take things seriously? After all, it was Madaraki who said," Nana cleared her voice a bit, "how can I live in a world where everyday I’m told that “social media influencers” hold the same credence and importance. Kurokawa and myself, both people that were invited, kinda are internet celebs, huh? Like, it's even in my title and everything, nya' know-- Unless one of you thought the net was, like, a fishing net..." She paused, looking over at Sumiko. If anyone was gonna think that-- NVM! "So I'm juuuust saying~ If she wanted serious people, she wouldn't put my name nyanywhere near that list." "As for the balloon... From what I saw, no one present there was able to throw it. I was on the stage with Edwards and Fiore. From my point of view, I could see everyone in the crowd which was Brandt, Marlowe, Kusumoto, Inaba, and Hayashi -- None of them threw it. I would've been able to see someone move. Oh, and, like, obviously I didn't throw it. So if the water balloon is somehow involved then we have to look for someone that wasn't currently at the talent show at the time..." She fusses with her bangs once more before sighing. "Actually, shortly after that balloon was thrown... Iyasa arrived. He had stuff in his hands so maybe he didn't throw it but nya never know~" "Nyanyways so the thing about mercury..." Nana paused, looking over to Rurira who didn't seem to be doing the best. "Tsuru-san! Please tell the class about mercury poisoning if you can, pwetty pwease!"

LAURENCE:

"...A-Alright. I was wrong... and stupid.. S-Stop laughing, now..." Laurence just looked down at their shoes. "But really, Sumiko... We need to know everything from the tape and binder. If Chizuru's records have evidence that helps us catch the killer, we can't afford to miss it. Right?" Laurence will back Mike up on this one. The woman was already dead, anyway. Not like she can be hurt worse than being murdered. "Oh... Also... It's pretty obvious, but I didn't throw the balloon either. Everyone would've seen me do that." Better to clear that up. "...Well, the only people in the west wing who weren't there at the talent show were Kimiko, Amami and Masami, then... Saying you were just in your room isn't really a good alibi, either." "But I think we've been glossing over something important. The strange syringe. One of them contained differently colored liquid and the sticker was wrong. Can we really dismiss that? It's possible that it even was involved in the murder. So we shouldn't turn away from anything strange like that." "Also, uh... Desmond? Did you find Chizuru's weird scanning device when you searched her room?" They had been wondering about that. She always seemed to have it on hand. Nod nod. "Also, Miamikuma... Nobody found the bomb, right?" Maybe it was worth asking, just to try and clear that possibility up.

MIAMIKUMA:

"Upupupu, as far as you know, nobody found the bomb I hid. Since Cheezy-Breezy croaked, you probably won't need to worry about that little Easter egg for now. Probably."

DESMOND:

Desmond sighs. “...My apologies Amami. It appears that I misinterpreted the map.” Desmond apologizes. Turning to Laurence, Desmond nods. “I did find her geiger counter - it was in her briefcase.”He confirms. “And I agree that that vial must have something to do with the murder.” Turning to Nana, Desmond shakes his head. “I don’t mean serious in personality, I meant serious as in if she told us something was wrong, we would genuinely listen. We wouldn’t be in denial about something needing to be done.” Running a hand through his hair Desmond’s expression turns to one of frustration before smoothing out again. What could they be missing?

RURIRA:

Rurira jumps at the sound of her name being called. Her eyes widen and she looks to her right, and then just past Nana, straight at the vial Mutsumi is holding. She shakes her head, looking nearly horrified. “That is…” She pauses, squinting her eyes a bit to make sure she’s reading it properly. “Dimethylmercury.” She straightens back up. “it’s an organomercury compound - one of the strongest known neurotoxins on Earth.” and Chizuru… she, the syringes - “It’s a colourless liquid, looking very similar to water. Symptoms of exposure include itching and burning pain at first, then memory issues, muscle weakness, nausea, vomiting, loss of motor skills, body numbness, i-inability to speak, see, walk, difficulty breathing -” She looks around the room, wondering if everyone understands the severity of this substance. “There was a well-known case, where, a scientist working with it, got one drop of it on her latex glove and the exposure of the chemical absorbed through that barrier, into her skin, and was fatal enough to kill her only 10 months later.” “If dimethylmercury was in the water balloon, and if the entire 50mL was used…” Rurira shakes her head. “But… the residual clear liquid in one of the mislabeled syringes in Chizuru’s briefcase - there’s nothing left in this vial. I think Chizuru injected it, and may have also been exposed to it with the water balloon. Wh-When she came by to ask if I’d like to join her in the Courtyard at 7:30AM, this was after the talent show, I think.” It was clear that Rurira didn’t attend it, after all. “She seemed fine then, but it’s possible that the symptoms of the mercury poisoning hadn’t shown up until later. This could have included the trouble seeing - because I cannot fathom Chizuru injecting herself with a substance that clearly wasn’t one of the medications she created herself. She must’ve injected herself last night with the final 5-10mL dosage of dimethylmercury, finishing the 50mL vial Mutsumi is holding…” She steps to her left a bit, away from the presence of that vial. “I have no clue when someone could’ve gotten into her briefcase to switch out her medicine with the dimethylmercury, or why they would need to do that if they already knew the dangers of it - if they were the one to throw the balloon…” Rurira hums to herself, closing her eyes momentarily to remember something. “Today is Wednesday.” It’s Wednesday, my dudes! “I looked through Chizuru’s trash can and the empty syringe on the top had its label peeled off - it’s possible that this is where the second ‘Thursday’ label came from.” She rubs the back of her neck. ”I don’t know… I don’t know…” She mumbles to herself. “The… two missing syringes in the briefcase must’ve been for Monday and Tuesday. She did mention in her notes she took another dose, therefore, the third syringe used - possibly at random? I don’t understand then, why, whoever filled the syringe with the clear liquid… would switch the labels to say Thursday. Is it to throw us off track…? Why put the syringe back in the briefcase?” She looks around for answers, wringing her wrists, nervously. “I’m trying to figure out this timeline, it - I definitely think that the rifling of her room must’ve been this morning - perhaps when Chizuru left for the bathroom due to feeling ill - there was blood trails leading to and from, after all, maybe someone waiting slipped inside and broke open her briefcase, her lacquer box in her closet full of the other syringes - they must’ve taken her notes and then… used the explosion to burn some important information? There was evidence of burnt paper after all…” Her voice trails off into incoherent mumbling again. Looks like that’s all she has to say for now - it’s a lot of information, but she’s trying to figure out the timeline of events. Who could’ve even put that mercury into one of Chizuru’s syringes?

IYASA:

"I...have to agree with Sumiko-san. And...even if she were powered with nuclear power...I doubt Madaraki-san would have invited us to gather around a...ah...source of leaking radiation, just to prove a point..." "As for the...water balloon theory...it seems plausible...though...did anyone see someone throw it? If we cannot narrow down who threw it...then what?" He paused, "Also...I...have to wonder how much of the evidence found in her room or briefcase can be trusted, with how it was...raided." He once again glanced at Miamikuma, searching for any sign that what he said was correct, but was met with a poker face. Looking back down and tapping on his podium, he frowned. "I...in any case...I...believe some of us are....hesitating to voice a guess for the culprit. I...ah...am not sure we will be granted much more time...if...you have an accusation, perhaps...it is best not to wait much longer..."

LAURENCE:

Well, if there was nothing else to do, then Laurence may have to push forwards with an accusation. "I think... There's someone I need to hear more from before I can be certain, but they've been suspicious. I just realized that something about their actions doesn't add up." Laurence points at Mutsumi. "You. You were guarding the body, weren't you? So when would you have had the time to go to the waste disposal to find evidence?" Perhaps this was an incorrect line of thinking, but nobody gained anything from not speaking up about their doubts. "There's more, too. We've already established you could have been the one under the tarp. I believe very strongly that the person who set up the explosion and the person who ran away were the same person. After all, that person definitely would've had time to run away before the explosion, but they only ran away when they were spotted.After the explosion happened. I can only imagine that was done to deliberately lead people to the body. I'm not entirely sure why, but..." Laurence takes a deep breath, continuing. "Not to mention, you mentioned that you were a chaperone. You had to keep tabs on everyone here. Learn about them, learn about their schedules. Wouldn't that make it easier to kill someone? Easier to learn what Chizuru was doing? You weren't in the crowd at the talent show, either. So you could have been the one to throw the water balloon." Laurence turns to everyone. "Don't you all find it weird that nobody has owned up to throwing the balloon, even now? If it was unrelated to the case, it would be easy to clear up. Considering that the target ended up dead, it's just too suspicious for me to believe that it was just a prank unrelated to the case at this point." "Mutsumi, I want to hear what you were doing before the body was found, as well as what you were doing during the investigation. I also want to know where that tarp could've come from. If anyone knows, please speak up."

RURIRA:

Rurira looks like she doesn’t want to listen. How can someone, sure, not really one of their classmates, but someone who would often bother Rurira and Chizuru in the science halls, how could they - could they have done something like this? She wrings her wrists in thought. “....Just sort of showed up, didn’t really… taking notes and…” Rurira looked to Mutsumi, adjusts her mask over her ears again, and shakes herself out slightly. “I don’t want to do that.” She whispers to herself. At the mention of the tarp, she latches on to that piece of evidence and recalls - “There are tarps in the athletic storage room. There were two types; a few smaller than a tablecloth and some that were larger than that.” She nods, holding onto her podium for a moment, only to let go seconds later, her limbs swaying at her sides. “Only one was missing. Though… one did appear to be folded differently than the others - haphazardly. A small one. It had a faint smoky smell to it, so… does that mean it could’ve been around the explosion? Someone must’ve put it back… I made sure to fold it back, properly.” She adds that last part quietly, like she’s thinking out loud.

MUTSUMI:

Hearing another accusation hurled his way, Mutsumi could only shake his head in disagreement, the crinkle on his nose signaling something starting to bubble over in the counselor. “As a guidance counselor... as a peer, it’s one thing to guide you all... that’s... my purpose, to lead you in the right direction. It’s another to... tell you. I don’t like telling anyone what to do, or... what to think... I don’t like what I’m about to say now, either... but with lives on the line... I can’t afford to... hold back...” ... ”Iyasa-senpai is the culprit” Gripping the podium, Mutsumi’s brows are furrowed. The counselor’s shoulders are pulling into themselves, and at this moment, he is appears almost self conscious about the situation. “The evidence... pieced together implicates Iyasa-senpai. I think my suspicions arose... with Iyasa’s unusually friendly interactions with you all, despite him knowing his position... and responsibilities following our situation... here in Korishi.” Wiping a few loose strands, Mutsumi let out a shuddered sigh. “Edwards-san... I think I explained enough for you to discern... who was under that tarp... leading the group to the discovery... and why. From that... I believe it’s easy to understand... how I joined Tsuru-san’s investigation team following that*. Please...” Take a moment to wet a dry throat, Mutsumi swallows. “...let’s move on with... certain evidence. The urgency shown by Iyasa’s... invasive interactions with you all... following our entrapment... I suspect to be the beginning of that process. Our duty... as you know... is to protect the student body. I believe... Iyasa took this to heart. To protect the students... you all, by all means necessary...” ... “I think it’s made known now that... Madaraki-san was... not well liked, save for the few of you she... perhaps sought to utilize. I think it’s obvious now, aside from her announcement, that... Madaraki-san prioritized ‘like-minded’ individuals**.”

“Like-minded as in... those whose talents could benefit her own... or actively made a partnership with her. Iyasa-senpai fit neither of those categories, yet he made himself known... at the gathering this morning. What better reason... than to give himself an alibi? And... perhaps the most damning... was the distraction set; a recollection of recycled goods. Whose talents specialize in recycling such parts into something new? This was all... a bigger distraction, which I assume... was to be a misdirection to keep you all from discovering Madaraki-san in her room. For myself... I apologize... I did decide to attend Madaraki’s planned meeting. I went to her room first to discuss some matters... when I discovered...” Mutsumi trails off, before shaking his head again. “...whatever the case, I believe Iyasa was threatened by Chizuru Madaraki’s unknown plan, and decided to take... preemtive action. The syringe with the... out of place fluid? Did Madaraki-san even have signs of an injection? Maybe that’s why... the suitcase had been tampered with... to plant doubt about the cause of death. I believe now... from what I’ve heard so far... *that the water balloon incident was the source of the victim’s poisoning, yet... it’s me who is accused? It was just said... Iyasa appeared at the scene shortly following the incident**. I don’t like it, but...” Looking up from his podium, Mutsumi finally displays a sense of dread in his eyes. “... the pieces... just keep lining up...”

IYASA:

As Iyasa heard the words leaving Mutsumi's lips, he frowned as his expression quickly grew more and more hurt. For a brief moment, he seemed resigned to his fate of being accused by his peer, but he was then struck with a look of refusal. ".....you're lying, again...Morishibe." he said softly, as his eyes turned to the counselor, he seemed almost frozen in fear, unable to urge himself to speak further for a moment. "You always.......do this. Get into people's heads...see how far you can push them...see how you can...manipulate them...and once the finger points to you, you turn it on me...? These are...your peers...and you treat them like petri dishes.. You've...already damaged me enough--" he cut himself off with a sharp inhale, pushing his hurt back down into his stomach so he could carry on. "....as correct as you are that I attempted to befriend everybody, and attempted to remain a calm presence in all of this, I truly, honestly did not interact with Madaraki-san much at all. I gave her a greeting, and beyond that, the two of us only exchanged passing hellos because of how busy she seemed. Perhaps I was invited because I had befriended many of those who were already informed. If I recall,, you spent a great deal more time around her than I did. There are a few underclassmen I simply failed to interact with on a meaningful level...and you yourself made sure to emphasize how much I had failed my chaperone duties in response to that. You, however, are the person who sees fit to slander her reputation and insist she was heavily disliked. Projecting your own feelings onto them, to make your actions seem less harsh...? That is...how you would define that...she had reason to dislike you...and rebuff your treatment of her." His hands shook as he confronted Mutsumi, seeming less afraid of the counselor with each breath. "If you joined Tsuru-san's group right after disposing of the tarp, then when did you find the time to 'discover' that poison bottle? ....furthermore, how could I have thrown a water balloon accurately, with my eye missing? It impacts my depth perception, and I...admittedly...do not practice athletics much. You, on the other hand, could have thrown it from a hiding place, never made yourself known, and therefore no one would have thought to connect you to it. These...are all your mind games, Morishibe. I came late because I had to wait for my work to dry before I could safely carry it." [TW: Su*cidal Implications] Finally, with his piece said, he looked down at his podium for a beat, "...if I were to kill anyone, it would be me, to protect you all. What is a kintsugi artist in comparison to someone who could save dozens of lives with her research...? Or any of you? You're lying, Morishibe...I'm...sorry."

NANA:

"Wow, wow~!" Nana covered her mouth in a show of awe and surprised - terribly forced and played up, of course. She was smiling, closed eyes and all (^U^), with tight lips pressed against each other. "You both are very terrible role models. Maybe next time they'll give us some senpais with better morals, huh? ... Ahem, meow-rals." "Now here's the dilemma, huh. Which one of them is lying? Obviously, at least one of them is lying. I mean, I don't exactly blame them 'cause I probs would in their situation." She moves her hand, gesturing to Mutsumi next to her, "This guy is super sus! Like Iyasa said, he's been treating us like funky little things to observe, right? I mean, I'm def not the only one he's writing notes on while conversing~ I can't say I know everything about our sleepy senpai, but I haven't seen him go out of his way for us. I can't image he'd be the type to kill for the group as a whole or even worry super duper much to kill as an act of self preservation." Nana moves again, this time using both of her index fingers to point right at Iyasa. "And that give over there is also super sus! Sure he does his best to get close to us, but isn't that weird too? Especially for someone who's supposed to look after us. Not that I agree with the school giving us babysitters. Either way, outta the two Iyasa tends to get the most worked up. Like he said, he's gotten close to us so wouldn't he want to do something to protect his quote-unquote friends? Even now, with all his scary talk-- he sure likes to hype us up! Ah, nyand I'm not claiming I know everything about Iyasa, but if he's had his injury for-- fur awhile now, couldn't he have already adapted to it? At least enough to feel comfortable throwing something?" She moves her hands to her hips and lets them rest there. "But he's kinda, like, a really big pushover, huh? Or maybe Takashima-chan just has that effect on people~ Killing could be toootally of the question for him - especially planning a murder this elaborate and nyall~!" Nana pauses, looking between the two upper classmen before raising her hand. "Uglykuma, Uglykuma~ You know who the murderer is, huh? Like, you for sure, 100% no doubt, no questions asked know who the murderer is? Because I'm curious! What happens if they could be two murderers? Ah-- And what if there's an accomplice? Even without waiting for an answer, Nana makes her vote. "I'd consider their words carefully before making a super big decision. Though I'll admit this right away, I'm voting for Iyasa as the killer. Sorry, sorry~ I just really can't stand the pathetic wannabe hero types!" @Modi | Iyasa just bc theres a question for miamikuma in here! )

MIAMIKUMA:

"Of course I know, what do you take me for? Some kinda cub? If there were two murderers, which I'm not sayin' there are, I would only punish the one with the most votes. If there was a tie, well, upupupu...let's say we'd have a surprise on our hands. With that said, it's deeeefinitely not worth it to help someone with their murder plot, since you could easily get wrapped up and punished in the killer's place!"

MICHAEL:

"...I think...we should vote for a tie." Michael speaks up, pressing his fingers together. "If we can't...settle for one with conclusive evidence, it's...probably safer. For the majority, or...something. Like that -- I don't know." He quiets down after that, looking back at the ground -- seems like he doesn't have much else to say.

DESMOND:

Looking between Iyasa and Mutsumi, Desmond looks visibly uneasy. However after Michael suggests a tie, Desmond shakes his head. “No. I don’t trust that ‘surprise’.” Desmond says. “I don’t think aiming for a tie is the best move.” “Earlier, before Mutsumi-senpai laid it out for us, I was willing to believe Mutsumi-senpai had found Chizuru, ran toward the courtyard, and then after seeing he had gotten our attention, ran back to the room to lead us to her. But if that was the case, why not call out to us?” “Another thing that I think is important here is the motive behind the murder. Clearly, based on the missing pages and information from Chizuru’s things, whomever committed the murder did it because they wanted to make sure information stayed hidden...and between Iyasa-senpai and Mutsumi-senpai, I think that we all know which one is more likely to reach out and try to figure out things about us...like what Chizuru could’ve been researching about...”

NANA:

"We can't settle this with a tie. Based on Stupidkuma's words, I'm betting that either both parties will be punished or it'll count as a mistrial and someone uninvolved would be punished." She was tapping her foot more now before shifting her weight. She looked between the two upperclassmen before looking out at the rest of the class. "Vote for Iyasa." "I'm doing the best to say this with urgency even though that's super duper not my style at all." She was still smiling which was probably betraying how serious she wanted this to be, if she was telling the truth. "But you guys to need to realize that when Dummykuma says punishment, he means death. Whoever we vote for will die, basically in front of us. They're going to have a horrible execution." Nana leaned forward, holding onto the podium to keep herself stable. "From this point forward, we're gonna be faced with a lot of difficulties. The person you love most in the world, the secret you can't let anyone find out, something that scares you, something you want... That's all gonna be held over our heads while we're here. We can survive it, but we need the right people to help us survive. Who here has been diligently watching over us and not doing the most to involve himself with us? Who here is able to help us figure out things about ourselves and keep us calm?" She doesn't turn to look, but her eyes shift over to the side to where Mutsumi stands. "Compared to the guy who hasn't even told us his name, I'm more inclined to trust the senpai who tries to say things to get under our skin in order to understand us. This is just... a reasonable and logical way of thinking of things. Somehow I believe that they've both had a hand in this, but I'm willing to have Morishibe help us... even if Iyasa is friendlier."

IYASA:

Iyasa's eye widened in alarm at Nana's orders, but it was her explanation of what would happen to the accused that made his blood run cold. He stared at Nana, sorrow crossing his expression, despite the cheery manner with which she delivered such cold words. "I'm....I promise you, I have been truthful--...the reason you do not know my name is not for me to mislead you-- I...it is something very personal, it is for my own safety, nothing more....I do not know how to prove to you that I am being truthful, or that Morishibe is lying. It is...my word against his, but if there is anything I can say or do to reassure you of my innocence, please, I am willing to do whatever you ask to clear my name..."

#chapter 1 #chapter 1 trial

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brianahuggins · 7 years

Text

The Thoughtless: Part 1

This is part one of a three part short story I wrote a few years ago. I’ve been revising it, mainly because the ending was weak, and I still haven’t figured out what else to do with it. Read if you’d like, tell me what you think, yadda yadda.

TW for: gun violence, implied racism, child death, gore. I think that covers it?

Let me know what y’all think.

My face burns, fire and ash and violent flickering light too close for comfort and too important for me to move away. My childhood home burning to the ground, mother and father inside, and I wish I could say that I care, but I don't. The flames lick and singe and reach for me, begging me to join, to go out like the rest of my blood, and I don't, won't, can't move.

I don't care.

Strangely enough, they don't care, either. My parents, that is. Dying, and they don't care. Maybe they don't even feel it. I hope they don't feel anything. I hope that if there's anything left of who they were, that it can't feel what's happening now, and if they do, I hope it feels like cleansing.

Does this count as feeling? I don't know. I like to think not.

I don't know what any of these things mean anymore. Dying, feeling.

Whatever the case, there's no sense of urgency, nothing that drives me to move from where I am, and that doesn't seem like feeling, and it's almost frightening.

Just not as frightening as the fact that this is coming for me.

They're inside, burning to death, uncaring, not enough to save themselves, nothing left to save, and one day, this is going to happen to me.

Not the burning to death.

Maybe not the burning to death.

I would want someone to end me if I was like them, though, will want, would if wanting was a thing you still had after the change comes.

This is mercy.

I watch the flames devour the wood my mother used to build this house. I don't remember a time when this house didn't stand, when this house wasn't here. It feels strange to be the one that did this, strange that I should destroy what my mother built in a sliver of the time it took her to build it.

A hand on my shoulder, and I turn away from the flames. My eyes meet Darius's, and I realize that maybe, just maybe, I've been crying.

I wipe my face, tell myself it was only sweat from the heat, and turn my back to the fire.

“Maybe we should go,” he says, like we have someplace better to be, like I don't have to see this through to the end. He should know better.

He never does.

I hadn't even heard him pull up over the roar of the fire. It should worry me that I hadn't heard him, should scare me, the idea of what else could have snuck up on me, but there isn't anything left to feel. There is nothing left to fear.

I scoff. “Maybe we should finish the neighborhood,” I suggest instead.

“It won't change things,” he tells me, tone even, calm. Always calm. I could hate him for it, if I wanted, but I've known him too long to want it.

“It's the most drastic change this neighborhood's gonna see for the rest of its existence,” I tell him. I grab a rock from the side of the road and launch it through the window of my neighbor's house. Their car is out front, but if anyone is home, no one's bothered. Of course not. Of-fucking-course not.

I swallow hard.

My home roars, bones aching, bones breaking. I don't look back as I hear it collapse, everything tumbling into the basement, a burst of sudden extreme heat hitting both of us.

Darius clears his throat, speaks again. “Let me drive you home.”

“I drove my own car here.”

“We can come back for it later.”

“It might not be here later.”

“It's not safe for you to be driving.”

“Not real safe to be living now, either, but here we fucking are.”

He doesn't say anything. I watch the firelight dance on his dark face, watch it reflected in his light, golden eyes. I silently dare him to fight me on this, to argue against the lack of sirens right now, to tell me that things can still be alright. Everyone in this neighborhood is home, if they're still alive, and no one has even stepped outside to see what's happening.

Smoke is heavy in the air, the sky dark from it. Not that the sky is ever light anymore, but the darkness is thicker now, harder to breathe through. Anyone for miles should be able to see this. No one has come to see what's wrong. No one has called for help.

They wouldn't get any, either way.

“You can't drink tonight,” he says quietly. “I'll make sure you can't drink tonight.”

I roll my eyes, grab another rock, and lob it straight through the window of the nearest car that doesn't belong to us. This sets off the alarm, and again, no one comes to see what all the noise is about.

A year ago, I didn't know the sound of breaking glass could feel so satisfying, that the sound of breaking glass could harmonize so well with the pain in my chest.

“Break everything you want. You're still not drinking tonight.” He's using his adult voice, his authority voice, his “I dare you to argue with me,” voice. It is almost enough to work on me.

He wasn't close to his family before this. That's the only reason he's so calm, and by extension, that's the only reason he's in charge.

Okay, maybe not the only reason, but still a contributing factor.

“Come on,” he says, and makes a tentative move to touch me once more. When he meets no resistance, he leads me to my car. “Give me your keys. I'll come back for mine later, alright?”

I nod and begin to hand him my keys, and though my hand tenses at the last second, I relent.

The drive to shelter is short, not long enough, too close to the smoke. They say you can't go home again, and now I know I can't. Yesterday, a liberating, calming idea. Today, something closer to condemnation. At least now it can never be worse than I remember it. There is no more room for bad memories to be made.

I feel my stomach rumble, remember that I haven't eaten today, close my eyes and try to remember the kitchen schedule for the week so I can figure out who I have to talk into feeding me. When I find nothing, can't remember, I ask.

“The kitchen tonight. Who's in charge?”

He gives me a smile that answers my question immediately.

“Shit. Why does it have to be her?”

“Should've eaten before you left.”

“Why the hell does Nora even get assigned to cook?”

“Because she likes doing it, and she's good at it? What other reasons do we need? It's not like you're going to do it.”

I look him up and down, knowing better than to hope a glare will get him to help me. He's nineteen now, only months older than me. He's a ticking time bomb, and I'm not much better. Thoughtlessness could settle in over him any day now, any moment. He doesn't seem bothered by that.

He should feel more, while he still has the time.

“She's awful. That seems a good enough reason to kick her out to me.”

“It's a good thing you're not in charge, then,” he says, and I know I'm not imagining the smugness in his tone.

No alcohol tonight, Nora in the kitchen, and my home in ashes because I couldn't bear to live with it so empty. This isn't my day, or week, or year. I violently wish that this wasn't my life, but it is, and it won't be too much longer and it'll be over.

I don't want to die.

I just want the world to be different again.

We stand outside of our massive, sprawling high school, a place I hated when classes still happened here, a place I can stand just a little bit better now. It's the only thing that's improved. We've been working on it, turning it into a place people can come to... whatever. Wait out their time here on earth. Maybe we won't change. Maybe some of us are immune.

I honestly don't know if this is better or worse.

We've been working on turning the school into a safe spot. Maybe there are better places. I don't know. This was just the first place we thought of, the first place that had everything we needed. Classrooms claimed as bedrooms, converted to living spaces. It's the only place we could find that consistently has electricity, as long as we take care of the generators.

The kids who need to get away often stop here, out of habit, out of hope that someone will be here who can help. There are fifteen of us right now. Fifteen people who still think and feel and function like real people, and none of us over the age of twenty.

We walk inside, and I hear the frenzied patter of four paws rapidly crossing the tiled floor to get to me. When Hope hits me, I take several stumbling steps backwards as his paws hit my shoulders and he violently licks my face.

Hope is the giant black mutt I found while searching for kids to take in. I didn't name him, naturally. I didn't want to. Naming him felt too permanent, felt like trusting anything to last. Darius came up with the name, because he thought it'd be funny, but whatever the case, the dog keeps me coming home, and the name stuck.

“Down, boy,” I say quietly, like I'm afraid of what might happen if someone hears me being gentle. If they realize I'm weak... what? What's the worst that can happen?

They'll start to know you, and if they know you, they might care, and then you'd care, and you might actually have to be someone again.

Whatever smell is coming from the kitchen is nice. Not so nice that I'm going to ask Nora if I can eat early, but nice enough. I just want to eat in my room, but she won't let me eat if she knows that's where I'm headed. This is one of the multitude of marks she has against her.

My body hurts. My chest aches. I want to be less sober than I am. I smell like fire, and I burn like it, too. This day would hurt more, if my parents hadn't already been dead to me for months leading up to this. The dog pushes his nose into my hand, and I scratch the back of his head.

“Meaghan,” Darius begins, and I look up. “Eat with us tonight.”

“It's not like I have much choice,” I grumble.

“You've fought Nora on this before.”

“I've gone hungry before, too.”

He shrugs. “So eat with us tonight.”

My agreement falls somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and he smiles. He smiles so often.

We begin walking through the halls, towards the wing where most of the bedrooms are. It's the old history wing, rooms where I was used to sleeping long before I lived in them.

“You know,” Darius begins, his voice low and soft, “maybe we won't all turn. It's been months since we've seen it happen to anyone else. It might be done,” he tells me, and he tries so hard to be convincing. He's the one we're all watching. He's the one we're all waiting on now. Maybe he needs to believe for his own sake. Maybe I should take a page from his book.

We don't know how or why it happens. We don't know why some go unaffected and others don't. There's only one person we've come across over the age of 18 that hasn't become thoughtless, only one, and she's never here. For all we know, she's turned since last we saw her.

I push open the door to my room, and he follows me inside without invitation. Everything I've ever wanted is here. There's nothing I could want that I can't take at any moment now. My room is packed, somehow still organized in its chaos. Fabrics and trinkets rest on and hang from every surface, the ceiling not excluded. I've collected an assortment of rugs and wall hangs, the colors deep and rich. I've put more work into this room than I've put into staying alive, tried to use this junk to fill the hole in my heart.

Darius's eyes travel across it all, taking in everything. He makes no comments. I know he finds all of this excessive. I know he doesn't understand why I do this. Even I don’t, really.

Hope climbs the steps to my bed, where it rests on a raised platform, not dissimilar to a bunk bed. I built it myself. It was something taught to me by my mother, building, that is. The platform is uneven, rickety, barely stable, but it'll stand, and Hope doesn't seem to be worried about it, and I trust his judgment more than mine. It's not fancy, but like everything else in this room, its mine, and its under my control, and it doesn't have to be suitable to anyone but me, and that's fine.

Darius opens his mouth to speak, but he's interrupted by the school bells. Dinner is ready.

When the bells are done ringing, he sighs and clears his throat. “I was serious about you not drinking tonight. I'm tired of the kids finding you like that.”

“Stop sending them to get me, then, and we won't have a problem.”

He groans, but he argues no further, and we leave to eat dinner, Hope's large and shaggy form traveling happily behind us. None of this phases him. Maybe things are better for him now than they were before.

When we get to the lunch room, boxed in behind its glass walls, Nora and the kitchen team for the night are still carrying food out to put on the bar. Whatever it is, it does actually smell really good, and I'm glad I have Darius with me as an excuse to eat tonight. Not that I wouldn't be allowed to eat. Just that I wouldn't want to... whatever. I don't like Nora. I don't want to owe her anything, even if it just means a meal. With Darius forcing me to be here tonight, I don't owe her.

When she comes around from behind the bar, Hope runs to meet her. Hope has no sense about him, he really doesn't. Her face lights up, and she leans down to pet him. When he's done with her, he makes rounds around the room, giving his attention to everyone. Nora is still squatting, watching him with a smile on her face. She runs a hand back through her hair, blonde and cropped short, shaved on both sides. She realizes I'm watching her, and she stands.

“Actually eating with the rest of us tonight?” she asks pleasantly.

I nod. It's never easy to know what direction things are going to take with her. She's older than me, still younger than Darius, but her desire to keep this place up and running, and running smoothly, means she does things that I don't want, as if she has some kind of authority. She's almost as bad as Darius, as far as controlling me, telling me what to do.

“Darius asked,” I tell her. She nods. She chews and pulls absentmindedly on the ring through her lip, the silver glinting in the fluorescent overheads.

“The fire today. That was you, wasn't it?” she asks, like the smell of smoke doesn't still cling to my clothes, like there's any chance she can't smell me from where she stands. I should've showered before I came here.

I suddenly feel very self conscious, which is fucking obnoxious, because I don't actually care what she thinks.

I nod again. Short answers work best with her, and the less she knows, the less likely she is to berate me, or worse, to sympathize. She shrugs.

“That's one way to deal with this shit,” she says, and she turns her back on me. She disappears into the kitchen, and I'm left alone with Darius, who laughs.

“I think that's the most civil conversation I've ever seen the two of you have.”

“If she didn't ride my ass all the time, we wouldn't have any problems.”

“I just don't feel like that's true. Having spoken to you more than once, I am very aware that you want nothing more than a fight at every moment of every day.” He smiles, and as soon as his back is to me, I do, too.

The line for dinner begins to form, and I fall in behind Darius. When we sit down, Darius's sister runs to join us, her braided hair swinging behind her, her food tray stacked precariously on top of the pile of books she's carrying.

“Do you ever get tired of reading so much, Zoe?” Darius asks. We don't have to ask where she's been. Her bedroom is the old library office. Ever since we took up residence here, she's lived in that library around the clock, always bent over a book. This is how she's coping. No one ever gets mad at her for her escapes. Nora never complains when she brings her vices to dinner.

“No. Not ever,” she says, and even as she speaks, she's trying to eat and find her place in her book. She was like this before, honestly, but again, things weren't so great for her before. All that's really changed is where she lives, and she likes it better here, anyway. She always liked it better here.

“Tomorrow, we should go check out that nice neighborhood, see what we can find.” Darius always thinks we should be bringing in more supplies, thinks we should always be stocking up. If things go the way we think they will, and we can't know that they won't, even the youngest person here only has eleven, twelve years? And if the rest of us go before her, she probably won't even last that long. Stock runs give us something to do, certainly, but it won't be too much longer until we have more than we'll ever need. Maybe it's good to plan for the long run, maybe it gives everyone else here hope. It just reminds me how little time I have left.

“Hey, Darius,” a voice says from behind us. I fight the urge to groan out loud.

“Yeah?” he asks. Nora sits down beside me.

“If you guys are going out tomorrow, could you be on the lookout for a few things for me? Please?” she asks.

“Of course,” he answers, like he's ever turned anyone down in his life. She hands him a list, and he looks it over. After a moment, he nods.

“Yeah, shouldn't be a problem. You should come with us sometime.”

God, Darius. Please stop.

“I would, if there were a few more older people around here. Otherwise, I think I should probably hang around here. Maybe when Sicily gets back, though.”

“If,” I say quietly.

She glances sideways at me, a look on her face like she's making a difficult decision. Finally, she responds, her tone gentle, so gentle. “No. When.”

I don't argue again. She smells nice, and I'm angry that I've noticed, and her tone has thrown me off guard. I still smell like fire, and I'm still embarrassed.

I stand up. “I'm going to bed,” I say, and it isn't true, but I say it anyway. I just don't want to be around anyone anymore.

I throw my tray in the garbage, and I don't wait for anyone to say anything else to me. Hope is the only one that follows.

Once I'm in my room, I let the heavy wooden door fall shut behind me and I lock it. Hope looks up to me, his tail wagging, and I sigh.

“You want food?” I ask. Mere mention of the word sets him wild, and I laugh, and the feeling is strange, like speaking a language I don't know, or used to know.

I put out two bowls for him, food and water, and I straighten my room. Not that there's anything that really needs to be straightened, so its more like moving things from one spot to another. When this gets boring, I unlock my door, put in a CD, and I climb into my bed. Hope isn't far behind. I lay on my back, and he situates himself mostly on top of me.

I leave the door unlocked because I know Darius will want to check on me, and if I leave it locked, he's just going to assume any number of terrible things and force his way in. It's happened before.

I stare at the ceiling, absentmindedly petting Hope, my fingers laced through his thick black fur. I've been threatening to burn my house down for months. Today was the day I finally did it. I don't know why today had to be the day, but it was. I just wanted to go home so bad, to see my parents, for things to be the way they were. The temptation was too much. Any number of things might have happened if I had gone, and none of them would have been good. Now, the temptation is gone for good. I don't have to worry about what I might do now. I'll never go back again. I just...

By the time I think to check the clock, it's nearly midnight. I've been in my room, unchecked, for at least four hours. Unchecked and horrifyingly sober.

Almost as soon as I think this, I hear knocking on my door.

I sit upright, expecting Darius. Hope flops back over in bed, unwilling to acknowledge we're being called on.

“Yeah?” I call. The door cracks open, and Nora sticks her head in. I'm too tired and sad to feel annoyed.

“Do you mind if I step inside?” she asks.

I nod. I don't know what she's doing here. The only lights in my room right now are the fairy lights that hang from the ceiling, and that's all there is to see by. Once she's inside, she stops to take in what she's seeing. I realize this is the first time she's ever seen my room.

“Why are you here?” I ask, and I'm proud to say that not even the slightest trace of malice can be found in my voice. I sit on the edge of my bed, my legs hanging off the side. Hope is still pretending not to notice the world around him. Nora’s usual spiked hair lays flat, having been recently washed, and I can smell soap and shampoo from here. I haven't even changed clothes.

“Darius wanted me to make sure you weren't drunk. He said you were tired of him sending kids to check on you.”

I laugh, and this time, my tone is harsh. “He must have known how much more I'd prefer you.”

This time, she picks at her nose ring. She clenches her jaw, and releases an angry breath.

“I'm not hard on you because I want to piss you off,” she says, her face masked in calm, but her voice cracks. “And what happened before, today-

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm just saying-

“I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. That.”

She huffs and throws her hands out. “I only agreed to come here because I wanted to know if you were alright after that.”

“I'm fine.”

“You'd be shit faced if you weren't friends with Darius.”

“I'd be shit faced even if I hadn't done what I did today.”

“You know he only does what he does because he wants you to be alright, yeah?”

I grip my blanket in my hands. “Yeah, I know.”

“And I'm not your enemy. You know that one?”

“Will you please leave?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but stops. She sighs instead, and when she leaves, I'm not relieved.

I hate Nora because I want to hate Nora, and because good things won't last, and because if I become friends with her, I'll only get to know her for the sparse amount of time that'll exist between now and her turning, and it isn't worth it. We're not even friends now, and still the thought of seeing her turn kills me.

It just isn't fucking worth it.

Darius wouldn't be worth it, but I've known him and his sister since we were kids, and it would be too inconvenient to cut them off now.

I can't cut anyone off. I don't have the energy for that.

But I don't have to let anyone else in.

I roll over in bed, wrap my arms around Hope, and fall asleep.

***

“There's a cop car out front, Darius. Maybe we should skip this one.”

“I don't see why we should. Hell, maybe we'll even find a few more guns. I told you I'm going to start hunting, soon as I find what I'm looking for.”

“Darius, I have a bad feeling about this. We should skip this house.”

“You have a bad feeling about everything. It's like your calling card.” He squares his shoulders and walks ahead of me. Darius only wants to be listened to. He never wants to do the listening.

I follow him, resolved to save his sorry ass if it comes to it. The thoughtless are unpredictable, prone to the ugliest things they thought and felt in life. Usually, they don't do anything. Usually, they make the vaguest efforts to feed themselves, at least until the food is gone, and then they just.... waste away. Some still make vague gestures at doing the jobs they did in life, but mostly, they're just.... there.

The house is large, white, decked in the dressings of middle class life. There's a mini van in the drive way, next to the cop car, stick figure family stickers adorning the back cracked window, “blue lives matter” bullshit right beside.

Kids lived here. I hope they're gone by now.

Somewhere down the street, I see the other portion of our group leaving a house carrying the spoils of their trip.

Darius forces the door open, and we cross over into the dark house.

The house reeks, and Darius looks back and makes a face, and if you think a smell that bad would be enough to stop him, you'd be wrong. He shines his flashlight around the trashed living room. All the thoughtless have is anger, when they have anything at all, or whatever it is that makes them do... this.

It doesn't take us long to find the source of the odor.

Sitting at the kitchen table, in front of skewed cereal boxes and empty bowls still waiting to be filled, are brother and sister, heads lolled back, dead eyes open to the expanse of the ceiling above them, ugly gunshot wounds littering their tiny frames. I don't know how long they've been here, but this had to have happened some time after the change, and more recently than I'd like to think. The smell is too strong, the decay too recent. A scene so empty shouldn't create so much sound, but there's so much; bugs and maggots and flies, so much writhing, so much moving filth.

I gag, and what very little I've eaten spews out on the floor. I look up to Darius, and his eyes haven't left the scene in front of us. His face is empty, expressionless, and for a moment I'm so afraid that he's turned, here and now, that something so ugly is enough to force the change.

But finally, after several moments of silence, he looks to me and groans. “Let's get out of here.” I don't have to tell him that I was right not wanting to come here, that he should have listened to me. He knows. I can hear it in his voice.

I take his arm, and I start to lead him away, an action of role reversal so far removed from anything that's ever happened between us before that for a moment I feel like someone else. I don't even have time to enjoy the feeling before it all comes crashing down.

“We should burn this place,” Darius says, quietly.

We're in the front doorway, and I'm reaching for the door when I hear something behind us. A shuffling of feet, the clink of metal on metal. I look over my shoulder, and I see where the noise is coming from, but it's too late.

A flash of light, and another, two bangs louder than thunder, and I feel Darius crumble. The thoughtless, the cop that lived here before, had fired the shots before either of us could have gotten away. The man, eyes blank, face gaunt from starvation, turns away, apparently satisfied with his work. I watch him shuffle off, his hands both working over the silver hunk of metal he's just used to injure my friend.

“Darius.” I say his name with no particular intent, like hands grabbing for a thing too far away to reach.

He's up against the wall, gripping his chest. His breathing is ugly, his skin too pale. I try to see the wounds, but I can't make myself look too closely. I don't actually want to know how bad it is. The blood that's pooling on the ground under him tells me all I need to know, and if I know much more, I might run and never look back.

“M-Meaghan.”

“Don't talk,” I tell him, and I'm not really sure why, but these could be his last words, his last moments, and on me, they're wasted. I can't carry his last words with me. I'm not, never have been, strong enough.

I try to figure out how to lift him, how to get him out of here. The man might come back at any moment.

Both bullet wounds are on his right side, and so I lift him from his left. He groans, but he doesn't say a word. More likely, he can't.

I drag him outside and into the sunlight, where this feels unreal. The day is almost bright, almost pleasant, not a day for bleeding or dying, but it won't and can't change things.

There's already a group running toward us. “Hey, we heard gun-”

But, what's her name again, Amanda? stops, her eyes wide, and I try to ask for help but all that comes out is a nasty, loud sob, and I nearly fall. Two people rush forward and try to take him from me, but I can't let go, and I can't catch the words they're throwing to reach me.

When I finally let them take him, two girls much stronger than me, I really do collapse. I fall on my knees and curl in on myself, and maybe I scream, maybe I tear out my hair and beat the ground, or maybe I don't do anything but lie there, my face in the dirt and my soul somewhere lower, because it all feels the same and none of it fixes this, and when finally someone lifts me up by my arm and leads me to the nearest car, I don't have anything left in me to fight. Car doors slam and engines crank and everything inside me unwinds and unravels, and I don't think Darius can survive the night.

#The Thoughtless #Writing

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