Putting Pen To Paper - Naegami Story

International Hope! Arc - 31: The End of Hope

Hunched over, breathing slowly. In and out. In and out. He had to focus on breathing before he forgot. Before the fear that seared every nerve inside him surged forward and took over. Every time he looked forward, he was back in the killing game, red walls and locked door and-

"Naegi~" Kanon's voice, cloying and thick, called to him, beckoning his head to raise to face her. Her hand, pale with blushing knuckles, no longer held the hilt of a kitchen knife that she had poked and prodded Kirigiri with. She appeared weaponless, normal, at first glance. But he caught the glint of steel teasing him from beneath her short skirt. It was the only sign of danger he could see on her now. The clothes painted with dark splotches of red-brown had been traded out for a school girl-esque outfit. She looked like a normal girl, he had thought she was just a refugee when the first explosion had flung him from the stable ground into a crowd of panic and limp bodies. Blond hair chopped off at her soft jawline, eyes that sparkled, and thin lips that curled into an easy, unassuming smile. Then he had recognized her. "Get up now, I think someone's left you a note." She spoke slowly, like molasses that crept inside his brain and stuffed it up with fear. Her eyes flickered to the small rectangle of paper near the doorway, resting peacefully on the floor. He heaved himself off the bed, Kanon's gaze burning into him.

He grabbed the note. His breath caught in his throat. Kyoko's handwriting: smooth loops and scrawls, painted the paper, tracing out words he knew all too well from the Killing Game.

There's something I want to talk to you about, just us two. In five minutes, come see me in my room. Check the nameplates to make sure you don't get the wrong room.

-Kyoko

Bile started to climb up the walls of his throat, soon coating the entirety of his mouth and tongue, and he attempted to swallow it back down. Nausea curled at his insides. When he dared a glance back at Kanon, she was watching, blank-faced, wide eyes.

"Come on Makoto, answer her call," A pinprick of a smile leaked past her blank stare, and Makoto watched as she blurred into bright shades of white and yellow, a milky mixture that he couldn't tear away from.

After a moment of eerie silence, he found the strength to shake his head. "No," His voice was hoarse, and he knew it betrayed all the fear he was trying to shove down and away. He needed to be strong. He had been in many life or death situations before, he could last through another one. His luck couldn't dry up now.

Kanon frowned. Her hand moved closer to the shine of steel on her thigh. He could figure what she was doing. What this silent threat meant. "How impolite. She's only just invited you over. Don't you want to see her again?"

He didn't want to follow this message. But he wanted to, needed to, see that Kirigiri was okay. That she was alive and breathing just like she was. That the knife Kanon had been warning her with wasn't now fully lodged into her body. He had already seen her body, drained of all life, before, and he had to make sure she wasn't like that again. Kanon had already killed two people in front of them, with no hesitation at all present in the way she had swung her wrist forward and made the person bleed out at her feet. No horror at the sight had even slipped onto her face, there was nothing but satisfaction. He knew what she was capable of, that despite how cunning Kyoko was, that she had no weapon. Conceding, he twisted the knob and exited the room he had spent the past days in with no company, the nameplate on the door reading ' Leon Kuwata. '

He had passed that sign every day in the Killing Game. He had carried Leon's death with him, and he still hadn't let the weight of it go.

He nearly walked to the door that was labeled as Kirigiri's, but he knew she wouldn't be behind it. So he went to the one he knew was actually his own, but was labeled Sayaka Maizono. This entire plot had been burned into his mind ever since it had been laid out before him at the trial. And he knew he was taking Leon's part. When Sayaka Maizono's nameplate was staring him in the face, his guilt broke through the calming affirmations he had been trying to run through his mind. The vision of her body, slumped over, knife left haphazardly in her torso, blood splattered across the floor and wall was next to the surface. He went to press his finger to the doorbell, but a cold hand caught his. At first, he wondered if Sayaka's corpse had come back to touch him, but it was Kanon, guiding his hand to the knob.