schtrial

Dachshund in Circles | Morgan | Monotheatre | Re: Everything

In hindsight, Morgan knew that his ideas weren’t exactly the greatest, and when they were shot down, it didn’t come off as a surprise to the football player. It was okay though. Minus all the screaming and arguing, everyone seemed to have a handle on things. Maybe? It was becoming a convoluted trainwreck that he had a hard time following. Just when he thought he could actually know what was going on. Boo.

Morgan couldn’t understand the anonymous votes though. There were no explanations behind them, and yet, Haruka and Toshio were being voted. Alarming. He didn’t get it. Well, he couldn’t tap out of the ring just yet. He didn’t have anything to contribute aside from the checks that came his way, but other than that, the only reason why he was staying tuned in was because his name was brought up every now and then. That or Kroger. E-Excuse? He would very much prefer if people didn’t feed his goat strange things. Pass it to him instead, thank you very much.

There was no free interval for him to sneak in a goat joke, especially since there seemed to be a conflict rising with Kenichi and Naoya. Morgan’s eyes shifted between the two before his gaze landed on the voting panel. This was tricky. He wasn’t quuuiite sure what the answer was. People seemed to be rather split, and usually, he followed along with the crowd. The exception would have been for Itona since Morgan didn’t quite mean to space out until the voting period had passed. This time was different. He simply didn’t know. He had stared, boring holes at the possibilities, but before he knew it, Morgan’s vote had defaulted due to time running out. Oops.

Things were getting so loud though, almost uncomfortably so. Almost was the keyword. He was fine with this, right? He had to be. Cursing. Yelling. Violence. Why would anyone -actually- do this? Of course, it was all pretend.–

…then you are a coward, and you are a fool.

Morgan froze upon hearing Starre’s words, desperate smile still tugged at his lips. He had thought about what to say. It was easy enough. He could just joke about fool’s gold or something since gold flakes had been part of trial. He opened his mouth to try, but he found himself unable to. Words were stuck in his throat, and his skin felt clammy and tacked with sweat. Uncomfortable now? Yes. The football player found himself from leaning across his podium to slowly slipping to the ground. Or something akin to this.

Yeah, he was going to have to call for time out now. Doogbye.

trial; JAEHWA&SULLY | we interrupt this very serious trial to bring u: comedy

With all these theories flying past him at a moderate speed, Seung began to zone out for most of the trial at this point, vacantly staring off into the space in front of him. The only investigating he’d done was find…a blood trail to say the least, but he wondered on if someone was going to bring it up– if not already, for the mun is very much in the worse state of mind to write things. Bah, whatever, the whole mystery will be solved in the end…right…?

A pun snapped him back into reality, his eyes sliding over to look in the direction of the punny fellow that had made it, almost having a grin grow on his face with a thumbs up. Except, he didn’t approve of the method of showing their arms, as much it would be logical to in a situation like this. Oh, and the suggested stripping idea was still ever so present within this trial, making him scowl a bit at the thought of him succumbing to what people had said. The nerve…!

“No.”

“No.”

… Oh, no, not this sort of 90’s movie cartoon whatever the hell idea. 

“Quit that.”

“Quit that.”

He could feel himself get frustrated at every word that had that individual to go ahead and…!!! Ohhhh, this was annoying,  why did this guy even have his goddamn voice– or at least, a voice similar to his.

Meanwhile, Suleiman Ahmed was positively glaring across the courtroom. Because fuck; his life just had to be the cruelest joke ever. If he- a singer of star-spangled fame and riches- was going to have the same voice as an antisocial gaming nerd… Fate was laughing at him, wasn’t it? 

“I swear to…”

“Swear to God…”

Fuck. 

“I hate you.”

“I hate you.”

one stubborn child! | Yutaka | ch 4, execution reaction

Annoying.

Annoying, annoying, annoying.

Annoying, annoying, annoying, annoying –

(Just keep trying to wipe the fear away. It’d be okay.)

He kept repeating it in his head. Annoying. (he knew precisely why this murder had scared him so much.) Annoying(itona was really, really right about a free pass on his conscience. he–) Annoying!! How annoying, that these shitheads wanted to act all angsty and sad and entitled as if they were the royalty of the whole god damn universe! (he – didn’t know them well, at all. but he–) Who the fuck cared? Ooh, you’re friends? Gee! Ain’t that great! (he still knew them.) Still doesn’t explain why you fucking did it, though! Y’know, it was totally fine to just fucking admit you did it to try and get out. Or even for fucking money, because everyone here was batshit, anyway! No need to pretend like your reason for doing it is some deep angsty shit that must be hidden from the world! How totally laughable was all of this cliche, dramatic crap –

Euuugh…

How gross! Hahahaha…

Ha. This time he wasn’t even fooling himself.

He had talked to Ken – he’d spent a whole day with him, technically. an incredibly shallow day, running around planning things, but still a day. Like hell he ever fucking cared for him, but he had still talked to him. He still knew him. He was – just a weirdo. A weirdass, stoic, classmate whose strange, quiet behaviour could be consider bizarre and humorous by itself. He’d played along with him, cracking jokes at him to no reaction, making hopeless small talk with him as they were working together. He – he never thought much of him, like he never thought much of anyone else at all, really, ever, in his hilariously sad lifetime. And –

He had talked to Naoya, too. Laughed insensitively at his little meltdown – what a poor kid, falling for a fake video! – and played medic and patient with him. They had laughed together. Over something terribly stupid, and Yutaka didn’t know whether to think Naoya was chill or an idiot for laughing with him. His impression of him wasn’t too bad, but he didn’t know Naoya very well at all and he didn’t care to know Naoya better – like he never cared to know about anyone else at all, really, ever, in his hilariously sad lifetime, but –

but… people he’d actually really talked to here still had a small place in his mind, and –

These particular people he had talked to had blood on their hands.

that was terrifying in itself.

(people he knew could’ve killed him instead. people he’d talked to. people he knew. people he’d happily assumed wouldn’t harm a single thing. he could’ve been dead.)

It was easy to distance yourself when you didn’t know people. It was easy to think of nothing of these silly murders when you classified all these – far away parties as stupid morons. They acted because they were irrational, and you were uninvolved. You didn’t think anything would happen to you, because you were an unrelated party. Someone who was there, but not important enough. That’s how it always worked – how he had lived his life. Acting close, but not actually being close – just a friendly face. A mere friendly face avoided trouble. A mere friendly face didn’t get involved in anything. A mere friendly face didn’t get stabbed in the back by anyone. But now… now…?

Someone had been stabbed in the back for being one.

Literally. Ha, ha, ha. Get it. Because that’s how she died. Ha –

Oh he was so fucked.

Ken’s execution was the final straw. He didn’t keep a close watch. He didn’t give a fucking shit about this silly respect people wanted to pay by watching it. Who cared about respect for a soon to be dead person? They wouldn’t feel it when they were fucking dead! But – but still –

He couldn’t laugh at something fake on a screen now.

It was right in front of his eyes.

Pretending was always his game. Pretend to be a friendly face. Pretend to be the most airheaded idiot. Pretend to find everything funny. Pretend– pretend to think this whole terrible situation just isn’t real, and you’re fine, everyone else is just a stupid, melodramatic idiot for believing things –

But that – wasn’t quite working out anymore.

Nothing was working out.

His plans weren’t working out.

He loved feeling confident. Feeling assured. Standing above it all. Even if it was just his own delusion – but now, now –

he felt so… vulnerable.

would he be the next friendly face to die?

was staying close to others the answer to staying alive?

he knew one thing for sure. he didn’t want to die. but – but… he… how would he assure that? To change everything he’d believed in his whole life – He… He couldn’t do that.

(he’d been gripping his shirt subconsciously, keeping eyes away from the stage.)

He’d – work his way around this. Figure out the best thing to do. Come up on top. He could always adapt – that’s what he always did.

(He could play a different game of pretend.)

|| (☼! + SETSUNA) (CH2 3.4) || “A Lonely Battleship Island” ||

At first, it was…kind of a relief that people were listening to him. More or less. They were at the very least getting about 80% of what he was saying, right? And that was good.

That was lucky. 

And yet Sun couldn’t make his breathing any…less…loud…

(Calm down, Sun. Calm down. Calm doooown…!)

(Because – this wasn’t like him! – is what he wanted to say. It wasn’t usually like him, anyway. But he couldn’t say that he’d never been in a similar situation before – and wasn’t that hilarious? How history repeated itself? How fucking ironic it was to have this kind of thing happen again?)

(But the “being accused of murder” thing…still new. Still scary.)

In response to his handedness Sun brightened up a little:

“I’m…left-handed. I use…this hand, see?” And he raised his left hand, sans index finger, and wiggled it around. “Little…lion man can confirm! He saw me writing…with…it. But with no index finger…I can’t…shoot with it! Not even with other hand. Because reasons…”

“…And speaking of…reasons.”

Sun took a deep breath, and: 

I’m not stripping in front of all. That is…the kind of drama I would…like to save…for my llama…or, ahh, mama?…whatever. But anyway…I will strip for Dvevo-tyan. Ok? …Ok.”

Sun paused for a few moments, apparently satisfied with what he had announced. Then, he realized:

“N…Not because of weird reasons, I promise…!! Only because…it’s okay, because…she’s seen me naked, already. Err, I mean…not like…!! I was swimming! Completely PG12…!!”

Why couldn’t he explain things properly once in his life just god damn fucking

“J…Just as long as I have…somewhere where no one else…is looking, ok?? …Then it’s fine!!”

There. Close enough.

But then Siyu… Then Siyu started fucking talking and – 

(He shouldn’t have said they were condoms. Fuck should he not have said they were condoms. What the fuck was he thinking, calling them condoms, he could have at least had the chance to maintain some of his dignity if he was honest about it, why did he – )

T…They’re socks, Tigger. I was taking the…piss.” 

“Also, the soap stains? From…bubbles. Bubbles, and…bubble solution. Trash-kun can confirm – he was there. But anyway…but anyway.”

Then Setsuna chose to save chime in. To respond to him. To save his sorry ass. 

“Ah, I apologize for disturbing, but w- what Solnceslav stated is true, his right arm is out of question..”

From the depths of silence and patient waiting, Setsuna finally spoke - rather softly and slightly embarrassed - after being addressed by Sun. It didn’t take long for her to hop off of her podium, approaching her taller classmate across the room, later to be by his side.

“And I don’t mind performing a check on him.. — p- pardon our soon to be absence, um, please continue the discussion without us.”

So the two wandered off together – Sun crouching behind a podium where his body could be hidden, Setsuna crouching by his side. 

So the two began.


Sun and Setsuna emerged later.

Much later. 

Much, much later.

Sun positively dripping with tears, clutching his chest, choking on each shuddering breath, repeating the words: 

I didn’t wanna – “

“I didn’t wanna, I didn’t wanna, I didn’t wanna, I didn’t – “

And Setsuna – leading him by the arm – with some strange expression on her face.

Nausea?

Regret.

Trial #6 :: CU [ feat. Chitose, Hiyoko, Nao, Tae-hyun, etc. ]

It had been a while since he felt like he was thinking so hard.  Had the previous CU really not use his brain that much?  It arose in the form of a headache to which a quick rub of his temples was used to attempt to relieve it.  What the boy needed was a good nap.

“What’s really throwing me through a loop here is– ”

He stopped as the masseur completely pulled his attention by saying he was in possession of his lewd body pillow.  He was poised to stop him from calling him that stupid nickname and demand he toss out the disgusting thing when he continued seemingly enraged?  This did not fit with the image of Tamashiro he had in his mind.

It must’ve been the Despair Syndrome or whatever.

He had quite the cajones to call him out for his tattoos.  Not only was it an excruciatingly long sequence, but it was very painful!  He was proud of them and before all this nonsense he displayed them with pride.  He was fire itself, wasn’t he?  There was no way he would allow himself to be intimidated by the other male, nor let him speak ill of his treasured body art.

He unzipped his sweater vest and placed it behind him, keeping his eyes focused on Tamashiro.  This revealed his body armor that stopped a little below his ribcage and consumed his shoulders and neck.  Next, the skin-tight body armor went up and over his head, it too was placed messily atop the other article of clothing.  Even just removing this much, the tattoos that covered his body, all the way up to his neck, were in full flourish.  As he undid the binding, the remainder of the tattoos were exposed to the students for the first time.

Flames, starting from a deep crimson red on his finger tips and slowly changing to a bright shade of yellow as they reached his neck.

He looked down at his body and grimaced.  It had gotten so… flimsy.  He pinched at the extra skin that had appeared, appearing disgusted.  He needed to tone up.  Even then, exposing his arms like that, he felt a stinging sensation in them. He rubbed at them for a bit knowing that someone didn’t like them being exposed.

“Tamashiro.  I’m going to have to politely ask you to it your ass down before I place you in it myself.  I am quite proud of my tattoos, thank you.  The only thing freaky around here is your attitude and–”

He stopped closing his eyes and pressing his knuckles against his mouth.  The line of conversation would only be a consistent exchange of petty jabs.  He cleared his throat, trying to get back on track.

“Good on ya, Niwatori, you too Heiwano.”

They actually took the time to read it, showing more of the damaged note.  He nodded along with Heiwano smugly.  No, he was not affected by this Despair Syndrome or what have you.  To say he was was nothing short of an insult to his true character.  Shortly after, he couldn’t help but snicker at Tae-hyun’s little dig; they were right.

“Whaaat, you didn’t like the tiny anime schoolgirl version of me?”

The new CU was certainly more easy-going then the last to say the least, and more flexible in terms of mood.  He chuckled a bit more and then refocused..

“Everyone stop gawking, it’s weird…  ahem… At any rate.  Same height as the stuttering dweeb over there and the purple-haired lady?  hm… Sasaki Yuzuki weighed 63 kilograms if the bear wasn’t lying to me.  Also, that axe looks on the heavy side too, not to mention moving those doors?  Points to someone on the strong side, no?”

He rubbed his chin, really giving his brain a work out as he tried theorize.

“Man… I’m drawing a blank, guys.  Apologies.”

monobear theater | naoya | raise your flag. [re: ken, haku, rover, starre]

All he could do was stare.

Hands, gripping the podium in front of him with such force that they threatened to snap the thing in two.

Feet that ached, ached with residual pain from the monster the pair had faced what could have only been a week ago.

And his heart. His heart, beating fast enough, hard enough that it threatened to tear itself from Naoya’s chest and leave his pathetic, barely-functioning body behind. He was not sick. He was not gravely injured. But all throughout his body, something more than fatigue, far morethan mere exhaustion overtook his entire body and threatened to swallow him whole, and leave him as little more than a husk of his former self.

And throughout it all, all he could do was stare.

Kenichi Uoya!

Stare as Kenichi, his…

(His…?)

(Words couldn’t describe it. Words couldn’t do it justice. Words were useless, pathetic, meaningless things that couldn’t save either of them.)

(But they were all he had.)

He was to die.

A million words, as useless as they were, raced through his mind as he stared at Kenichi from across the courtroom. Words that could do nothing alone, but instead came together to form a fog, an impenetrable fog that filled his entire being, rendering him useless to all, and especially himself. Apologies. Cries for help. Demands. A reassuring reminder of how far they had come. How far they had to go. A whimsical anecdote, recounting that one time they did this and that, way back when. Back where things were easier. Back when they could be two kids, dreaming of a place other than this. A place where they could…

“What should I do next?”

Words didn’t need to be exchanged. Naoya knew. He understood. But still, it would have been nice to do so anyway. As much as he wanted nothing in that moment but speak to Kenichi, alone, away from all of this, someone else had different plans, and before Naoya could react–

“…!?”

WHAM!

Chances are it was the shock that had exaggerated the pain – Haku was not the strongest guy, and a punch from him shouldn’t have hurt as much as his had. Even then, somehow, it had been enough to cause Naoya to stagger backwards, with one hand gripping the podium for support and the other coming up to hold the side of his face in shock. A searing pain in his cheek that eventually made way for a dull throb, but also a pain that pierced straight through the fog that clouded his mind and forced him to…

To what? Face reality? Act?

(What was there left for him to even do…?)

Looking Haku in the eye was certainly not on his list of immediate things to do, that was for sure. He didn’t look away, but his gaze dropped slightly, and his presence lacked a certain something. Something that made Naoya Naoya.

“Just let me be a fuckin’ hypocrite. Just this once. I know I say all kinds’a shit, and I meant it all. Still do, but… sometimes, y’gotta…”

“Sometimes y’get people who you’re willin’ to go against what you believe in for.”

Haku’s next words didn’t cause any sort of reaction from the dealer, but he… definitely heard them. As the photographer shuffled back to his own podium, all Naoya did was continue to stare. Stare into empty space, as he weighed up his options and searched for a way forward. Ways to keep himself and Kenichi alive. Ways to get out of his current situation. Ways to get out of Meridian altogether.

(Of course, none existed. He was stuck!)

(At least, none existed right now.)

A few moments later and he finally forced himself out of his trance, turning to face the rest of the class just in time to see–

Red.

DON’T FUCKIN TOUCH H–”

Naoya’s voice boomed throughout the courtroom as he watched Rover send an uppercut right at Ken’s chin, catching in his throat mid-sentence and forcing him to take a moment to compose himself. Take a breath. Bring his precious words back in line. His hands slammed down on the podium in front of him, knuckles white as he leaned as far forward as possible without sending him tumbling head over heels and into the centre of the courtroom.

(Not like he wasn’t already in everyone’s sights. After Kenichi died, he’d–)

It was likely that his tirade would have continued, if not for the embrace that followed.

“Don’t… don’t…”

(Don’t. Please. Please. Don’t kill him. Don’t…)

And again, his words failed him.

His posture relaxed, as he returned to his normal standing position behind his podium.

Not because he had relaxed, but because he knew there was nothing more he could do. His body shuddered. Breaths came faster than usual, in short, irregular intervals – if he had anything left in him to let out, he may have cried. But at this point, he couldn’t bring himself to do that, either.

And then Starre spoke.

“I don’t owe you anything. Not my life, and definitely not an explanation. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Not angry, sad, or anything in between. The only way to describe how Naoya addressed Starre at that point was… with nothing. His words, monotone. Accent gone. Expression blank.

(He was alone. He was so alone. Alone, and soon, he’d be killed. Or executed. He wouldn’t live to see…)

(See anything. What had it all been for? Everything he had done. They had done. The future they had planned to create - one they could call their own. No-one elses. He couldn’t give up now, but…)

(The corner of his eye felt wet.)

He had nothing more to give.

Trial 3-2 | Daisuke | There Was a Terrible Crash [Re: Yori]

[tw piercings, bare chests, nipple trauma]

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

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Before the inevitable hysterical laughter. 

“hhhhhhAHAHAHAHA. OF COURSE. OF FUCKING COURSE. RIGHT. YOCCHI JUST BEING A GOOD GUY AS ALWAYS. JUST…. FUCKING…..”

Well. At least he was just crying now. Not quite as loudly and hysterically as his sudden burst of laughter had been but just as pathetically. 

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“F-Fucking why…”

His voice cracked, painful on everyone’s ears including his own. Goddamnit, he hadn’t cried this badly in a month or so. But now here he was. 

Alone

daisuke just because he’s gone…

and useless

why are you crying?

and so very very tired.

nothing anyone could do…

Finally his knees buckled.

how sad.
how pathetic.
crying gets you nowhere daisuke.

The uncomfortable sound of Daisuke’s crying was muffled by podium and his knees pulled tight against his face. 

what a waste
what would siyu think?
what would he think daisuke?
maybe you should just stay with what you’re good at.
pathetic

And for the first time in days, it wasn’t the lingering form of a body on the edge of his vision that made his hands shake killed the words in his throat. At least he didn’t have anything else to add. After all, that would have required him actually being good at this whole investigation thing.

SCHOOL TRIAL: Noboru - The Beast Stirs (part 2) (RE: Kaito, Chisato, Shuu, Yoshihiro, Airi, probably others)

Now then. Evidence time.

He turned to Chisato first, gulping. He was nervous – they hadn’t investigated together this time. This time… well, this time it was like a test. Even with the little evidence he and Chisato had unearthed before, the girl had managed to pull through. She was smart – and as one of her partners, Noboru felt like he should be up to the same standard.

Breathe in…

“Hey, Sakamoto-san. I-uhm… I know where the cloaks are. I… I have them, right here!”

… Breathe out.

He tried to sound confident. Admittedly, he was excited at the prospect of having evidence to show.

To those who might have observed Noboru, they might have noticed his jacket looked considerably bulkier than it normally did. From it, he withdrew one coat, neatly folded. He grabbed it by the collar and held it upwards, high enough for the class to see.

The coat was visibly ripped in certain areas.

“T-this is… uhm. Setsuga Igarashi’s coat. It has the nametag right here, and everything. I found it in the ballroom balcony. It was… hung over the controls. The bottom part of the page Kezao-kun has was actually found in here.”

He paused for a moment, and continued.

“Next… I also found a knife in the balcony.”

He set down the coat and pulled out the bloody kitchen knife, holding it upwards as well.

“I can confirm it went missing from the kitchen, since the knife was the only cutlery missing. In addition, this is actually fake blood. I, uh… erm… eheh. I figured out through… er, extensive investigation. And… M-Moyasu-san, the blood on the note is also fake. I assume all notes have fake blood. But uhm… I… I want to confirm what, er— Shimura-san…? Yeah. What he said, about the… body and the wounds. None actually match this knife, so it can be assumed that this was the supposed ‘fake’ murder weapon.”

He put the knife down beside the coat.

“Aaaand… here’s Bambi Sindrisson’s coat.”

Noboru pulled out another coat and held it up. This one was noticeably covered in blood.

“Sakamoto-san… y-you said it wasn’t fake, but it is! I found this… in the ballroom, actually. Wonder why nobody noticed it. In the pocket of this one there was also a note! This one reads:
My idea is this: We will stage a murder scene, with myself acting as the victim. We will actually act it out, thereby convincing the bear that it is real, in the event that he watches us. At the very least, we will have to make our final portion of the plan look convincing.’
This actually looks like it fits in the page with the notes Shimura-san and Shirayuki-san found.”

He held up the note in question as he read from it. Once he was done, he placed it back down on the podium, along with the bloodied coat.

“Ray-san actually has a good point, and, uhm… Park-san? Y-yeah! However, I kind of agree with Sakamoto-san more… maybe? I d-don’t think we should say the culprit was the one who worked in the fake blood – if Seong-san was a drama director, he probably knows all about movie props! Still, if we want to talk about fake blood, well… it’s used in tv shows, movies… hell, I’ve even seen some really good cosplays employ it, like—”

He opened his mouth to continue and—

Someone else spoke. Some guy. A big guy, but what mattered was what he said.

“…”

Silence.

“… h-how… how… how dare you!”

Woah. Noboru didn’t seem angry, but he looked betrayed and offended. He stepped down from his podium and marched right towards Kaito.

“Did you not see the fake blood? At a glance it could fool someone, but it was… it was obviously different than the real thing! Look at it! Look at it!”

He picked up the knife and waved it around, accidentally flinging a bit of the fake blood everywhere. Okay. Now he seemed mad, and he seemed to have been getting madder as he continued, and eventually he stopped right in front of the bigger man. He lowered his knife, and instead jabbed Kaito in the chest with his index finger.

“Let me tell you a little something about kaiju suits. Many people have seen my work; it’s been displayed on conventions and various social media sites, as well as my own blog. Meaning, people see it. A lot of people view my work. For those who are unable to see my work in real life, to get up close and personal, I take high-resolution pictures to show off the detail work. This blood… this blood is made out of basic materials, yes, but it’s… it’s poorly done! The creator probably used the steak juice as a reference! Steak juice! Frozen, processed, drained meat that had thawed out, and therefore got diluted with water.
Look, I’ll admit I don’t incorporate fake blood into my work very often. That’s a little too much trouble, and I just use stuff like paint. I have better control over the color, so I can work on more realistic looking blood. If I wanted to have nice, chunky, fleshy bits, I’d use liquid latex or something else to get the right texture. But even then, I have other ways to make fake blood and, might I add, it wouldn’t be as horrendously obvious as this! Who the hell do you think I am?! You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

Never mind the fact that he had initially freaked out upon seeing the fake blood, but that was for other reasons. The possibility that all of that was real blood had frightened him, and he had fled the area too quickly to actually take a good look. He wasn’t going to admit that, though. He headed back to his seat, scowling. About halfway there, he stopped turned around, and called out once more.

“And by the way, my room’s been checked. I have paint in there, which Mickey-san actually saw, but I haven’t actually touched the stuff. Y’know, since people have been dying left and right. Otherwise, there’s nothing suspicious in there.”

He fell silent. Was Kaito finally spared from the boy’s wrath…?

And one more thing, and this is to everyone here.”

Nope.

“Think about Kezao-kun’s words for a moment. Think about this: the recipient didn’t have to know how to make fake blood if Seong-san already knew how, which is already very likely if he works with shows and movies. That assumption hasn’t necessarily been proven. It’s a good way to narrow suspects down, but those suspects don’t match the implications of Seong-san’s words. So, you might want to rethink on who you’re accusing.”

Breathe in… breathe out.

After a few moments of silence, Noboru calmed back down – and then he realized what he did.

“A-aaaahhh! I-I’m sorry… I just.. I get really mad when people insult my work…! I-It’s kind of all I have…”

He looked really ashamed of himself. He began to tear up, and slooowly sank behind his podium.
Good job.

monobear theater | naoya | iron blooded orphans. [re: execution]

he was gone.

there one moment, gone the next. the feeling of ken’s clenched fist bumped against his own as they touched for the last time. the warmth. he was no longer there, but he remembered. naoya could still feel him, there, beside him, like he had always been.he knew it was coming, but all he could do was just.

“hey ken…? what should i do next?”

(what? nothing. he could do nothing.)

(this was his burden to bear. ken wouldn’t be around to watch his back. and naoya had failed to watch his.)

(ran usui was saying something. who was that? the actress? he ignored her. there wasn’t a person in that courtroom whose opinion he cared for less in that moment. after all, was she not the exact same as—)

“it’s obvious, right? we should go home.“

and the execution began.

his lungs screamed as he held his breath throughout the entire execution. intentionally or no, even if he wanted to, the one thing he couldn’t allow himself to do here was breathe. he had only two options here. not breathe, force himself to stay calm, and watch. or alternatively, allow his body to behave how it thought it wanted to, and let the floodgates open - breaths would come fast, ragged, shallow, his body would collapse and he would be left behind his podium weak and helpless and his mind would go blank and no matter which option he went for he…

no.

he would hold his breath. hold himself steady. and watch.

watch as blood was spilled. that iron blood that flowed through his own veins, and would soon cease to flow through kenichi’s. blood born of the unbreakable bonds that connected the two in every way possible. blood born of hardship, of shared experiences, of the knowledge that despite everything, he would still be there, no matter what happened. no matter where he went, what he did, who he —

a soft thump behind him.

the blade had stopped. the execution was over. but the show wasn’t over yet. without a word, he turned around. his right foot first, then his left.

(his arm ached, and his hand ached, and his head ached, and his heart —)

and finally after all this time, his mouth opened, with air filling his lungs forcefully enough to be audible to those nearest to him. eyes were met with eyes. his eyes.

every time i turn around, his eyes are there.

he choked.

he wanted to get something out. a word. a sentence. a hushed apology. a declaration never to fail him, or anyone else again. a solemn oath to ensure that the death and sacrifice of kenichi uoya was not to be wasted, that naoya would live on and continue the fight. the fight that he had died for.

but of course, what came out was none of the above.

AAAAUUGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

instead, all he could do was howl. yell at the top of his lungs with his voice breaking as he fell to his knees and —

and what? 

not cry. anything but that.

crawl forward on his hands and knees, calling his name. calling for ken to return to him, to come back and be that one constant he could rely on in a world that insisted on providing him with nothing but hurt and people who proved time and time again that the only people you could trust were —

were… family.

like ken was. and no-one else.

and he yelled. and sobbed. and begged for someone, anyone to bring him back. to take him instead. he knew it could never happen, even as he reached his hand out to touch the face of kenichi uoya for one last time and pray some sort of miracle would occur, or that monobear would return with his irritating laugh and tell them all it was one big joke, and they could all go home, and…

eventually, he stopped. but still he did not allow himself to cry. he sat there, staring at the head that rest in front of him, the puddle of blood that formed around the head soaking his pants and the hem of his jacket and getting into his boots but he didn’t care it was his blood he didn’t care. if anyone approached, he ignored them. if they yelled at him, he ignored them. if they struck him, he ignored them. he could do nothing, and they could do nothing to him.

he had to move on, but… he needed this. a moment of weakness. a moment to let it all out, before he steeled his resolve once more and pushed forward.

a few minutes later, and without a word he stood up. reaching down, he picked up the head, turned on his heel and left. he spoke to no-one. looked at no-one. eyes, blank. skin, pale. he would return to normal with time, determined to live on and continue what he had been working towards. but until then, he would allow himself to be weak.

just for now, at least.

Meet Luther | Date Masamune | School Trial | Re: Setsuna, Poison Talk [Attn: Jaz]

It seemed that Date Masamune had gotten caught up in something unexpected, or perhaps it really was expected. Either way, he had shifted from his position at this previous podium and was now standing with Setsuna at hers. He was carrying her books for a reason, but it seemed like the girl needed him to do more than that.

How could he say no? He was nothing, anyways. If he could be of some use to someone, then all the better.

…That being said, it was a pretty strange request.

“Alright! Listen up; does anyone have charcoal or chalk on them? ‘Jaz’, the 'aconite’ might have been absorbed by your skin. If left untreated, what happened to Daisuke could happen to you. Charcoal or chalk could take care of it, but until then you need to stay calm and not over-work your heart.”

Date had been blessed with good genes; he had height, a recognizable voice, and he could be loud. It was all he needed to get peoples’ attentions, minus smashing Setsuna’s podium.

“Anyways, I’m going to clarify the cause of death for everyone using some medical terminology deciphered by Setsuna.

Ventricular arrhythmias: Abnormal rapid heart rhythms that originate in the lower chambers of the heart. Ventricular arrhythmias include ventricular tachycardia and ventricular fibrillation. Both are life threatening and most commonly associated with heart attacks or scarring of the heart muscle from previous heart attack.

Asystole, colloquially known as flatline, is a state of no cardiac electrical activity, hence no contractions of the myocardium and no cardiac output or blood flow. Asystole is one of the conditions that may be used for a medical practitioner to certify clinical or legal death.

Basically, he had a fucking heart attack. He’s dead. Big whoop.”

There was a brief pause as he transitioned to the next bit of information Setsuna wanted the group to know. Although he didn’t really understand how everything worked into each other (not yet, at least) he at least knew that they were on the right track.

“Of all the plants mentioned, wolf’s bane and aconitum root are the most likely cause of death. The other plants mentioned do affect the heart, but probably not to the extent that wolf’s bane and aconitum root do.

“I apologize for the interruption.”

One More Confession; An Invitation to EVERYONE. | Hibiki | RE: Alice

“I guess since I’m so close to my death, I can just tell you anywa-”

CRACK.

And there it was. The first act of violence directed towards her. Of course, she knew she deserved something like that. Hell, she knew she even deserved that execution that will soon be coming her way. But, despite how hard the girl smacked her, all she could do was laugh.

“Murderers are people too. Hey.. while you’re at it, you might as well not consider Red Rover a human being anymore as well. I admit that I stabbed him first, but near the end of the whole ordeal, he just wasn’t fighting out of self defense anymore, that much was obvious. It was a fight to death. I hope you realize that I could be the one dead right now, and Rover be on the lne waiting for execution. Just a thought.”

Please, your little acts of violence mean nothing to me.

“How well do you all pay attention? Not very good apparently.. I never sweat, I never react.. that should be a perfect indication of my condition. Learn to pay attention.”

Looking away from Alice, she directed her attention back towards everyone else to give a small little announcement. Taking a deep breath, she put back on her grin, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Consider this a formal invitation. Take your anger out on me. Punch me, kick me, do whatever you see fit. I can’t even feel it anyway. How do you suppose I can stand here with such a terrible stomach wound and not bat an eyelash? Come on, I’m waiting!”

Whether she was bathing in the attention or was repenting for her sins, that would remain unknown. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

trial 6:1 | haru | [bryn voice] ur not gogna have fun [ATTN: sora]

Haru Uotani, by no definition of the word, could be described as being “fine.” That was irrelevant though, because everyone was supposed to think they were fine! Because they totally were!

Sure.

A few hours and a handful of bad life decisions later, along with a… rather interesting conversation about aliens that cannot be disclosed publicly lest they threaten their entire lizard-people world domination scheme thing, Haru felt strong enough to leave their room and head down to the trial. Another trial from hell. Would there ever come a week where the murder trial didn’t make them want to repeatedly bash their head against their podium until rendered unconscious? L-O-L. Probably not.

(They nodded at Ren briefly as everyone filed into the room. What a good kid.)

But first, back to this █████ that had a lot to say about them the other day in the past trial.

Shortly after the initial argument about whether or not Hyouri was truly the culprit— which seemed pointless, because what other fucking option was there— started, Haru spoke up for the first time.They leaned over the edge of their podium, getting a good look at a certain classmate standing a few feet away and flashing him their teeth, pulled into a grin that could only be described as belonging to a huge douchebag.

“Wooooooow, Nishida, not gonna accuse me of murder again? Nothing I love more than having to prove my innocence over and over and over again despite there being no logical explanation for me killing anybody this week; come on dude, have some fucking fun with this, fail miserably again or something. What bullshit argument couldja pull outta your ass this time…”

They laughed, otherwise completely ignoring the rest of the trial. Which is totally not just because it’s late and Lex is exhausted and she wants to get a small post out before passing out for the second time today. Nope. Not at all. It’s not like they had much to add to the current discussion either— they rolled their eyes, plugged in a vote for yours truly, the man of the hour, and let the rest of the class do whatever the hell they felt like.

Apparently, the salt was still very real.

monobear theater | naoya | the gravity of wishes. [re: ken]

Is this it? The place we really belong.

Yeah. It’s one of them.

All this time. All this time, he had been searching. Fighting. Working towards creating something better. Something new. A place to feel at ease. Comfortable. Safe. Surrounded by those who you loved, and who loved you back .

A place he could call home.

(He missed the streets.)

(He missed his family. Not his parents. His real family.)

It wasn’t much of a living, but at least they were alive.

If Naoya had been showing any signs of being anything even remotely close to distraught, or about to cry, they had disappeared without a trace as soon as Kenichi approached his podium. Tall. Proud. He had so little left to give at this point, but in front of him, he could show no weakness. But even then, he had no bravado. No powerful words to share about how things would be better, and that they’d make a difference, or change everything. How they were the only ones that could do it. About how adults didn’t care. After all, they were rich, or complacent, or just happy to accept the hand fate had dealt them.

(But why just take what you’d been given, when you could deal the cards yourself?)

All Naoya could do was stand tall. For now, that would have to do.

“Take a rest. Y’worked hard, Ken.”

Two sentences was all he could give before his voice failed him, but even then, his mouth continued to move. Naoya’s mind forced his body to co-operate in order to get through to Kenichi one last time.

“Thank you.”

(For the trial? For the last few weeks? Years? How long had it even been? Twelve… thirteen maybe?)

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t inspiring, but it was all he had.

Barely more than a whisper to match Kenichi’s own, but it was enough. Words weren’t needed here. At least not between the two of them. He understood. He knew Kenichi understood. As the pair locked eyes, gaze unwavering, Naoya knew. 

Anything more would be unnecessary. For now, he was content to wait.

(^._.^)ノ | Jaehwa | Trial | [RE: Manolo]

The test was done and gone with, and he retreated back to his podium without another word. Well… he was planning to stay somewhat silent if something didn’t catch his interest, making him perk his head upwards. Now, he should mind his own business, since curiosity kills the cat, no?

…But oh, Morse code. Well, he never really had to use it in all regards, and he was somewhat spotty with his knowledge of what the dashes and the dots interconnected to which letter. Not fluent, but knowledge of it. Just like a freshmen in a class for beginners at a language. Just simply, knowing. (Probably from the damn internet or that person–)

Although… if this was to translate something, it would take him a while due to how his state of mind was not so in tune at the moment. But hey! Hey, at least that would be fun! (No, no it won’t.)

Despite this, he flimsily raises his hand upwards– at least until his hand was up in the air near his own head in response to the question.

“…I can understand it…” Raise your voice louder, Jae-Hwa.

“I can understand it. I’m not fluent at it, but I can translate if it’s needed. Why would I need to be fluent in Morse code anyways, I’m a starcraft player, not some kind of signalman.”

“Or am I? Who knows, it’s a…”

Don’t you dare say it–

“…mystery.”

He unplugs the device that was in his pocket, just to play that one song with a shrug, his palms facing upwards with one hand having the device in it. What is the purpose of this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Goodbye memelord.

School Trial | Kamille Ray | System ERROR | Re: Kaito, Naohiro

Naohiro’s words fell through the air and crashed on the ground. Kamille didn’t care. He had long since stopped caring about hurting anyone. The only person he had truly been worried for was safe, she was fine and had accepted that he was a monster. All of his worries were gone- now it was just the painful wait.

“Five years ago, I still attended school normally. I was normal. Haruka Miki was a classmate of mine, a popular, well-respected person. I was dumb and naive and I wanted to be friends with her- she was cool! S-She was… She was someone you could look up to.”

“But, when I tried to be friends with her, when I tried to break out of my shell- they attacked me.”

Beat me, cut me. I was trash to them. And they- she did it all for a laugh.”

There was a pause. He held the blade closer, Tae-Hyun spoke and he didn’t care. Who was she? Someone equally as unimportant. With her tone of voice, he could only presume she was drowning in her own problems. Whatever.

“P-Paranoid schizophrenia. I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia after I went in to get checked for my injuries.”

His eyes darted between those nearby. Airi. Noboru. Could he trust him at the end of the day? Did he ever? Probably not. 

“Five years of voices in your head telling you that no one is really your friend. Five years of cowering in the corner of my room and covering my ears. Five years of hearing voices in the hallway and not being sure whether they were my siblings scheming, my parents whispering their disappointments, or the monsters that were out to get me.”

The plamo builder took a very, very deep breath.

“Five years of not knowing which of those three was worse.”

He adjusted himself so that his eyes were focused on Mayumi once again. He wouldn’t let her attack him. He was ready, far more ready than he had ever felt before in his life. Ready to go through with it, ready to die.

“And what are the chances that for this motive, Monobear goes and tells me that the most important person in my life is the one who ruined it. Bonus points for her being a classmate, to boot.”

I had forgotten her over the years, buried her memory deep away, but when he told me that I just had to… I had to confirm. So I went and knocked her out, I dragged her to the stables and waited it out until it was night. I tied her to the chair, and I talked to her. And I found out. And I knew I had to kill her.”

“We… We had a blood curse, you know? There was no way out of it. I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that the person who destroyed me was in this castle. Who’s to say she wouldn’t just do it again, huh? Who’s to say she wasn’t the fucker who set this entire game up? No, I wasn’t going to let her get away. Especially not with the threat of forgetting her; forgetting the person who ruined me? Just letting that slide, with no revenge?”

"No.”

“I know I won’t be forgiven; that’s fine. I don’t care. If I’m a monster, then she is too. If I die, then I can die knowing that I was finally able to do something on my terms.”

"Being abandoned… As if I care! It wouldn’t be the first time it happened! I bet you guys would love it if your entire family was out to get out for being a failure! So go on! If you want to talk about how you’re so much better than me, go ahead! I don’t care!”

Part of him wanted to shout at them, to pleasantly remind them that they all had blood on their hands. That killing someone for ‘justice’ wasn’t so different than killing someone for ‘revenge’. What would it matter? They would die too. Whoever had rigged this from the start would sit there and laugh. They would win.

Monothea | Rover | and i turned ‘round and there you go and michael, you will fall [RE: Ken]

There is this certain movie effect that could easily describe how Rover was fairing—the kind that comes to pass in a moment of disorientation, when tensions are high and your protagonist has just been hit on the back of their head. Time passes slowly, each second stretched out like a cat's prowl. You’re unsure when it happened, but you're perched on the edge of your seat now, the back of your thumb pressed to your lips, leg shaking. The camera tilts as if it’s suddenly on a ship rocking through a storm, and the visual has trouble focusing—the arch above their podium, someone leaning forward, a hand gripping around a railing, white knuckles. The sounds washes in and out, mouths move but there is no sound, a low ringing eases like waves. It reminds you of a wooden spoon knocking into the back of a large pan. Coins dropping on tile. The ring when a mallet is slammed into a puck, lights flashing up a tower and hitting a bell. 

“Step right up! Test your strength!" 

Ding!

When Rover opened his eyes, he was staring into black. His senses kicked in slowly—arms wrapped around him, breathing, a heartbeat, the smell of dry wood, warmth. He had a second to pray the two of them were close enough that he was more or less hidden, buried far enough away in the other boy’s arms to cover up the fact his shoulders had begun to shake. He didn’t make a sound, far quieter than you’ve ever heard the boy, besides by the sharp and shaky intakes of air every few seconds that perhaps only Ken could hear anyway. Rover decided then, stepping closer into the tighter embrace, his hand relaxing enough to let his fingers curl into the side of the Ken’s uniform, that he did not understand what Haku meant about him being more dangerous

(Dangerous, implying he was a threat to begin with.)

They pulled away with time and Rover was still shaking. His face was a mess, eyes bloodshot and teeth rattling to match with the shakes he felt deep in his muscles and tight in his chest. Their gazes met and Ken smiled with a warmth that the builder was quite certain could burn down the stars if he so desired, and in that instant Rover wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt more embarrassed in his life.

("Yer not cryin’, are ya?” he heard Miike ask, his voice sounding too close a grimace. “What’s the use in that? It’s not happenin' t'ya, yer hardly related at all. I mean, come on, the people actually goin’ through it are handlin’ it better than ya.”) 

He wanted to cry again, or beam and grin, or do anything more than just stareSay something, maybe—lean up and whisper something that would make the rest of the class wonder. A promise? A confession? What was it? What were they hiding? There were thousands of things he wanted to ask, most of which he knew would only come to mind hours later when he was brushing his teeth or fishing in the pond or boiling water for breakfast. He still had old things he needed to ask for God’s sake, naggings for answers Ken took the easy way around. Ken, Ken, Ken! What do y'think? What should I think? 

What’s right? I wanna think the right way. 

“Ke—”

(“You don’t have to want it—”)

—I don’t, not unless you’re around to teach me how to take care of it—

(“—but it’s a gift from me.”)

—but I’ll hold onto it for you—

Rover squeezed his grip around the sheath, gave it the shortest of looks through hazy eyes, and when he looked back up, Ken was gone. 

The next motion just went to prove how quick the builder was—turning around with a speed that betrayed how fast his heart was slamming into his ribs. If he let go of the sheath he’d still have time to grab his sleeve and pull him back, take his hand and run his fingers over the wound the iaidoka made a couple days earlier. Hiss between gritted teeth: your blood is important to me because you’re important to me, you weren’t suppose to forget that! But—

But… 

But while walking away Ken’s back didn’t look familiar to him, and he had the realization that if he had been someone walking through a crowd, Rover wouldn’t have offered a second glance at the boy unless their eyes met. He knew so little of him, so little of anyone here, and though every part of him yelled to reach out, a fear gripped and held him that it was not his place. 

Rover’s mouth opened, his voice croaking something out before his brain had a chance to figure out what it even was

“I wanted to get to know y'better." 

Yeah.

…yeah.

Rover didn’t return to his own podium, didn’t move save for a few steps backwards to allow himself to sink down behind Ken's podium, pressing his back into the cool surface. The sheath was pulled close to his chest, and he lowered his head to rest against his knees. 

(Nico pressed her lips together, blew out a raspberry. "Aw, leave him be, cryin’ ain’t so bad.” She turned to face him, tapped her index finger on his chest. “Anythin’ that makes y'feel, like, really feel, feel so much yer body can’t even contain it all an’ it’s gotta spill out of yer eyeballs is real. That feelin’ is real an’ it’s alright, y'hear?" 

Rover thought on this. He sniffed and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "It sucks." 

She laughed, and it was light and bubbly and Rover was struck at how empty it sounded. "Yeah.” Her lips curled in a smile so big he wondered if her cheeks ached. "Yeah,“ she repeated. "Feelin' suuuucckss.”) 

Trial 3.2 | I'm too tired for posts | Yuuki | RE: Exercise checks

“Oh are we checking for injuries again? I’ve got nothing on me but if you need proof.”

Yuuki took off her jacket and jumper to reveal a vest, then took off her socks and shoes leaving her standing only in her vest and shorts. Then she stretched, touched her ankles with minor difficulty (she’s a long way up), put both her feet on the podium and her clothes back on, to prove that she was at least uninjured from the stretchy stretch point of view.

“There.”

Thanks.

She then went back to doing….. nothing in particular outside observing the trial. Good goin, Yuuki.