────୨ৎ──── ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴇꜱꜱɪᴍɪꜱᴛɪᴄ. ɪ’ᴍ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟ

It was obscene every time a bloodied body was discovered in this tragic death game. Hot pink goop spilled over more times than you’d ever like to recall. In such a short time the strangers—no, friends you’d made, they’d all started to silence each other. Motive after motive, loss after loss, fear after fear. It crushed your hope for escape. If we couldn’t work together to survive, how were we to outsmart Monokuma and the mastermind? It was utterly hopeless and dreadfully despair inducing.

Still. You didn’t just want to die. No. Even as gloomy and saturnine as daily life in Hope’s Peak Academy had been, you still have the will to live. Lucky you.

Investigations were of vital importance around these parts. And although you felt lackluster at best compared to Kyoko and Byakuya (well mostly Kyoko. Byakuya… he was just loud, confident, and annoying and nothing had seemed to knock him down a peg) you still aided when you could. So far, the result was of course correct. You’d lived another day. But you still woke up wondering if this would be your last.

⋆˚࿔

Through the perils of your sleep, you tossed and turned. Insomnia, took hold, along with the very rational fear of death, irrelevance, isolation, and probably a LOT more things you didn’t want to add on to your despair inducing list. It was common to toss and turn—so you’d heard. Hina detailed her painfully gloomy nights (only enlightened by doughnuts) and before the whole… Taka Mondo situation, you overheard the two guys consoling each other over their sleepless nights.

This night, however, proved much more different than it had certainly been before. A self imposed rule — no leaving your rooms after 10 PM. It wasn’t enforced like all of the other Monokuma rules, but everyone seemed to follow the “stay in your rooms and don’t creep anyone else out” policies.

So a knock at your door at this hour; a time you could only assume to be around 1 AM was more than peculiar. It was suspicious. You didn’t answer it. You, again, had no death wish. You simply watched the door. After about a minute, a paper slipped underneath the smallest of crack between frame and concrete, before you imagined to hear a small clicking of boots on the tile outdoors. Of course, you didn’t actually hear it. Soundproof room and all.

With caution, you picked up the note. It too seemed peculiar, in sharp and clean penmanship. Not Hiro’s, but sure rivaling its cleanliness: “Meet me in the 2nd floor men’s bathroom storage closet. I know you’re awake. It’s important.”

You let the note fall from yours hands—a secrete meeting? In a storage closest? At this time of night? Well that was just… totally asking to be killed.