Ikusaba Quest [Danganronpa/SMAC] - an Exodus story

Your shuffle over to Kirigiri's desk is less subtle and more like a pink elephant dancing on a skyscraper in downtown New York. Emphasis on "pink", given your blush.

Kirigiri is busy scribbling her name at the top of the paper, her handwriting surprisingly rough for someone so cool-tempered. You blank a bit as you approach, and there's an awkward second where you're just kind of staring at her, wondering what to say, before she finishes writing and looks up without an ounce of surprise.

"Ikusaba." Kirigiri says, tone flat but not hostile.

"Uh, hi." You say.

Kirigiri sighs slightly, sitting back in her chair and smoothing her paper out on her desk with one gloved hand, and then she nods at you. "Hello. Did you need something?"

"No, not really." You say meekly. "I just... Well, we're both kind of... Quiet, so I figured, maybe we could talk?"

Kirigiri's lip twitches slightly, as if amused, and she glances downward while crossing her arms. "I see. So because we are both quiet people, you thought I would be a conversationalist?"

You bristle slightly. "W-well, when you put it like that, it-"

"Take a seat, Ikusaba." Kirigiri says warmly, looking up at you and smiling slightly. "Let's give it a try."

Your blush is in full force now, but you pick a seat from Aoi's desk and sit down, scratching awkwardly at your trigger finger.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...I'm sorry, this was a mistake-" You start to rise from your seat, but Kirigiri stops you.

"No, please. I actually do have questions I want to ask, I was just formulating them."

"Oh."

You settle back down into your seat, watching Kirigiri tick her fingers before nodding firmly.

"If it's not to personal," Kirigiri begins with only a little diffidence, "I would like to ask why it is you and your sister do not share a name."

You blink, and look away. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I just want to confirm, for conversations sake and to sate my own curiosity. You're not under any obligation to answer."

You shuffle a bit. "Well, it's a fake name. I decided to cast aside my old identity when I became a soldier."

"I see. But... Don't take this the wrong way, but why 'Corpse Warblade'?"

"...I was seven and thought it sounded cool..." You admit, looking away.

Kirigiri's eyebrows shoot up. "You joined the military at seven years old?" She asks, putting a hand on the table as if about to write. You think that maybe she's a bit more used to interrogations than normal conversation.

"Yeah. What about you, though? Aren't you too young to normally be a detective?"

Kirigiri sits back slightly, but then nods. "Normally. They made a special allowance for my talent and my name. I imagine there were similar allowances made for yourself?"

You nod.

"Even so, it must have been prodigious to get you into the military."

"Fenris had... More lax rules. But yes, I have been very good at fighting since a young age. I am... Less good at other things. Sorry."

Kyouko looks you in the eye. "There's no need to apologize for your talent. Soldiers are a necessary and important sector of society. There is no shame in being good at being one."

You glance to the side, blushing again at the praise. "T-that's... Well, it's not as good as detectives. You don't have to... Kill people."

Kyouko shakes her head. "That's not true. Detectives do occasionally have to kill criminals who cannot otherwise be contained. While I have to admit I haven't utilized the skill myself, firearms training is a sizable part of police training in general."

"Well, yes, but..."

"Ikusaba, I'm not going to pretend to know what you've done, or why. But what is done in the past remains in the past. It is upon our shoulders to make the Future better, be that by repenting old misdeeds or simply changing our behavior. Our senior class includes a professional Yakuza and I suspect an assassin, if not more dangerous sorts. Hope's Peak Academy is a place of peace and learning, and regardless of what may have happened before, it is a place of acceptance." Kirigiri's intense stare rocks you back in your seat slightly. "Unless you plan on committing a crime while on campus, nobody here will judge you or hate you for misbehavior; if it's even so bad as you think."

Kirigiri's face softens slightly, and the intensity of her gaze lowers into a tolerable range. "It is not my place to tell you what to do, Ikusaba, but I suspect that if you forgive yourself for whatever past crimes you think you committed, you will find that others have forgiven you long ago."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Sorry. I should go."

"No, don't." Kirigiri says, completing the reprise of the first half of your 'conversation'. "To tell the truth, you were right about placing me as quiet. Although, perhaps, 'awkward' may be a better word for it."

"Huh?"

"I am quite good at figuring out the minds of criminals and other people through observing their actions, but unfortunately, I'm less skilled at... Speaking casually." The light-haired girl waves a hand in the air lazily. "I fear I've just become used to keeping secrets."

"I see..." You say, unable to think of anything else to say. "Um... Kirigiri-"

"Kyouko is fine." Kirigiri - Kyouko - interrupts, a firm note in her voice.

"Okay? K-Kyouko, then. Can I ask about the, uh, gloves? I noticed you're wearing them even inside."

Kirigiri twitches, and then glances at her gloves. Then she looks back up at you, an apologetic note in her expression. "I'm afraid that's one of the secrets I intend to keep. Suffice to say they should not ever come off during the school day."

"Oh. Is it a detective thing? Like, handling crime scenes? What do they do?"

"Cover my hands."

"Oh. LOOK OUT-"

Kirigiri rocks forward as a flying pencil case strikes her in the back of the head, before spinning in a whirling maelstrom of lavender so light it's almost white.

"What is going on- Eep!"

Your own hand snaps up to catch a small stapler right before it strikes you in the head as well, Kyouko flinching back as the device whirls past her. You look her in the eye, anger and shock playing in both of your expressions.

"LIKE HELL YOU ARE-"

"Maizono." Makoto warns the snarling idol, calmly but firmly. "I keep saying we can talk about this somewhere-"

"We're talking about this fucking now!"

Makoto raises his hands. "I'd rather not air out all this with everyone-"

"Maizono, stand down." Kirigiri snaps, approaching. You didn't even notice her get out of her chair, but you quickly follow her, slipping into combat mode.

The familiar rush of adrenaline paradoxically calms and excites you. Everything sharpens to fine points, slowing down as your brain works overtime to process your senses. You feel your arm twitch as if to bring a rifle to your shoulder, or fists into a CQC stance. But for now, you just cross them, allowing your face to become stern as you hold the stapler visibly in front of you.

Makoto's seated across from Maizono's desk, someone elses chair pulled up to make a small conversation area much like yours and Kirigiri's. Unlike the civil discussion between you two girls, though, Maizono and Makoto both look upset, Maizono in particular a tower of rage that has even Owada raising an eyebrow.

It was obviously her who hurled the stapler and pencil case, unluckily aiming it directly at the back of Kirigiri's head. You wonder what could have made the blue-haired idol so angry.

"I apologize." Makoto says smoothly, as Maizono glares at Kirigiri for daring to stop her thunderous rage. "This is my fault. It seems-"

"You shut the fuck up!" Maizono snaps.

"He's safe, Maizono-"

"I don't believe you! Where's-"

"Both of you, quiet, now!" Kirigiri snaps, as Mr. Kamikawa bursts back into the room.

"Kirigiri? Maizono? Naegi? What's the meaning of this-"

"That isn't-"

"She's just-"

"They were-"

"It doesn't matter!" Mr. Kamikawa snaps, as the three voices tumble over each other. "Principals office, all three of you!"

Kyouko's eyes widen, then narrow as she hunches her shoulders, but she nods. Makoto is accepting, shrugging languidly and sighing as if the danger had passed. Maizono smiles like a predator, still furious. The three march off, leaving you with Mr. Kamikawa and the rush of battle fading as you try to calm back down.

"Ikusaba, what happened here? Should you be sent to the Principal's office too?"

Still in battle mode, you clip out a status report. "I'm not aware of the source of the altercation. However, Naegi and Maizono were engaging in discussion when Maizono became irate, throwing a pencil case which struck Kirigi- Kyouko, in the back of the head around..." You glance at the clock. "Eleven hundred eighteen hours. Kirigiri became upset and attempted to defuse the situation, and I moved to support, sir."

The class is silent for a moment.

"So this is the power of the Ultimate Soldier..." Mutters Yamada, adjusting his glasses.

"...Right. But you didn't throw anything back, Ikusaba? You or Kirigiri?"

"Negative, sir, I was at Kirigiri's desk and it was clear of everything but paper. Ah," You realize something. "I've completed my assignment, sir. Permission to grab it?"

"Um... Denied?" Mr. Kamigawa says, still looking a little off base. "I'll pick it up on my own round about the classroom. I want to talk to everyone and get to know them. Hopefully to prevent this sort of thing..." Mr. Kamigawa pinches the bridge of his nose. "Well, it's whatever. Get back to your seat, Ikusaba. In the future, when you see a fight, please come get a teacher to stop it, don't stop it yourself unless someone is about to get seriously hurt."

"Yessir." You say, and then sit back down in your desk. Then lay your head on your desk. And then let out a breath.

Junko puts an elbow on your head from her seat beside you. "Well that was interesting." She says languidly, slowly pressing the point of her elbow into the back of your head. "Definitely a good start to the school year in my opinion. Maybe we'll get to see even more fireworks!"

"S-s-s-shut up before you get us in t-t-trouble! Are you t-t-trying to get me in trouble?!" Hisses the girl in front of you, a hunched over little gremlin of a woman who smells like old sweat and dried blood.

"Probably~!" Junko says brightly.

You groan, and start looking for a teacher.



He doesn't know she remembers him.



You sigh and open your eyes. This bed is too comfortable, really. It's nothing like the barracks you had back in Russia, which was busy with life and warmth on every side, cold iron cots and thin blankets. The smell of whatever chemical they put in the MRE heaters activating with a little water, occasionally popping when someone doesn't lt the bag breath properly.

It probably would seem crazy, but you almost miss the sound of shells and mortars outside. You grew up with it. Without the suffocating presence of Death just outside the window, the building feels empty despite the plethora of classmates and safe, thick walls of Hope's Peak Academy. You're forced to stand up by your own restless brain, feeling very far from the harsh, cold wastes of Siberia.

You decide to get some water. The First Year dorms are on the first floor, so the dining hall is quite close. Slipping through the door, you pad quietly down the hall, trying not to wake your classmates.

The dining hall is spacious, filled with cheap chairs and plastic tables that are surprisingly comfy and sturdy. The kitchen in the back is locked, but there's a small fountain drink vendor right outside it, and the device is still operational. After grabbing a cup and filling it with warm water, you wander back out of the dining hall, sipping softly.

Your eyes scan right over the light on in the bathhouse at first, but then you freeze. Blinking, you step back and turn slightly, looking. The bathhouse is supposed to be closed right now, who's in there?

You narrow your eyes and set your cup on the floor, sneaking over to the curtains hung across the door to the changing room. The voice becomes clearer, and you realize with a start that it's Makoto.

"...Right, and I know it's something of a gamble, but these things can't be helped." He's saying, exasperated. "...Uh huh. Seiko, listen. Have I ever steered you wrong? ...Besides that, and I still say that was Yeshua's fault... Yes, exactly... Right, and that's why I gave you one of the canisters... I just want three of them, and the appropriate chips... Yes, unprogrammed. I'm going to want Yeshua back before everything hits... Definitely, yeah... No, no no. Not a full sized factory, I only need a couple of guns and some backup plans."

Guns?!

"...Well, then it's their fault for thinking that, but I still think you can do it... Obviously, yes. You're the Ultimate Pharmacist, this is literally your field... Alright, keep him there for, oh, another four months or so? I want to make sure he's here when... I can do five, but I can't go later. I need to get everything in place beforehand, or else I'm going to have to make some very obvious moves at the worst possible time... Exactly, yes. The last thing we need is a Ultimate Despair with a-"

You blank out.

You come back in. Blinking, you glance at your cup of water in your hand, and then back at the bathhouse. The lights are off now, and there's no noise.

Well that's definitely very weird.

You head back into the dining hall and dump the cup of water, tossing the paper into the wastebin. Then, senses keen, you head back into your room, before laying down in your bed. When you close your left hand, it stings ever so slightly. So you look.

There's a slight mark on your palm, a couple of small divots as if something was pressed very hard into your flesh. Not a needle, but something about the size of a small stone, or a broach. Flexing your hand, you watch the divots disappear. You lick the small cut on your lip, and go to sleep, feeling all to at home here.

[ ] Dream
-[ ] Red
-[ ] Blue
-[ ] Yellow

[ ] Tell Junko about last night (-3% Despair, +5% Junko Dependency)
[ ] Don't tell Junko about last night (-5% Junko Dependency, +3% Despair)

[ ] At class, make an effort to:
-[ ] Concentrate on schoolwork
-[ ] Observe your classmates
-[ ] Interact with your classmates

You cough yourself awake this morning, throat filled with phlegm. There's no malaise, though, so you figure you're not sick. Perhaps you ate or drank something that disagreed with you?

You suppose it's time to start the day.







You're up earlier than most of your classmates, so you have the benefit of a few moments to yourself before you have company. Who does enter, though, shocks you slightly. You expected to see Sakura, or perhaps Hina; either of them would be in the habit of waking early for training. Toko or Hifumi, perhaps, would have stayed up through the night.

Instead, Makoto greets you as if it weren't 6 AM, chipper and bright as he was when you met him. He wanders over to the kitchen and rings the bell, turning to you while he waits for the cook.

"Ultimate Soldier up and at 'em early, huh?"

"Uh, yeah." You say, still wondering. "Don't bother waiting for the cook, he's not up yet."

"Oh. Pity." Makoto says, sitting down in one of the plastic chairs with an oddly heavy thunk. "So what are you eating?"

"MRE. Uh, 'Meal Ready-to-Eat.'" You show him the packaging of your 'chili-mac', a rather barren slip of dark green plastic with a large U.S. stamped on the front. "I kept a few."

"Do you have an extra? I'm starving." Makoto says with a smile. You frown, but when you check your bag you do have one.

"Guess so." You pass him the package, which he flips around easily, examining it.

"Are the ribs any good in these? I can't say I've had any before."

You shrug. "Ever have fast food?"

You're feeling calmer around Makoto today. You're not sure why, but your vague sense of unease around him has simply... Vanished. (-5% Despair, -5% Junko Dependency, ???)

"...No." Makoto says after some hesitation, but he tears open the package anyway.

"W-wait, really? No fast food? Ever?"

Makoto raises his hands in a warding guesture similar to the one he made against Maizono yesterday. "Hey, now! They just didn't have them where I'm from!"

You sit back a bit, staring. "Uh..."

"I take it that this tastes like 'Fast Food', huh?"

"Kind of. Same sort of low-quality flavored cardboard texture." You say, letting it go.

"Hmph." Makoto's flipping around the instructions on the bag, looking at them intently. "Oh, I see. Clever bit of chemistry, that. No need for a indu-... Oven." He coughs slightly. "I'm going to go get some water, I'll be right back."

You watch him go, but eventually your attention is taken back by the arrival of Sakura Ogami and Asahina Aoi arriving at the door to the dining hall, loudly in the case of Aoi.

"-I've seen the matches on TV, and I thought they were super cool! It was totally awesome!"

"...Thank you." Sakura replies, looking slightly put out but blushing with praise at the same time. "I didn't realize the Ultimate Swimming Pro would be interested in such things..."

"Well of course I would! A sport's a sport, right?" Aoi smiles with the light of two suns, filling the room with her strange, bubbly sunlight.

"I suppose that's true." Sakura says, smiling slightly. then she nods at you. "Mukuro."

"Sakura." You reply, blushing slightly.

"Woah, you guys are on first name terms already?" Aoi says in awe. "I gotta step up my game!"

"That's your goal here?" You ask quietly.

"You're allowed to call me Sakura if you wish, Miss Aoi." Sakura says.

"Really? Thank you!" Aoi smiles again, forcing you to raise a hand to shield your eyes. "You can just call me Hina, if you want, all my friends do... That goes double for you, Mukuro!"

"W-w-wait-"

"Did you have a nickname while you were, uh, 'in the service'?" Hina asks, her bombastic personality utterly steamrolling yours. "N-not to say that Mukuro isn't totally cute and all, but, uh..."

Now that's irritating. "I'm aware of what it means, thank you." You say a bit snippily.

"Oh, are we discussing nicknames for Ikusaba?" Makoto buts in, sitting back down with a cup of water and pouring it into the MRE bag.

"Yes." Hina says eagerly.

"P-please don't-"

Sakura gives you an apologetic look and opens her mouth to speak, but she's interrupted.

"Personally, I think 'Muumuu' would be awfully cute." Makoto says.

The Spears of Gungnir pierce your fragile, lupine heart, and you collapse facefirst into your chili and macaroni MRE as Hina claps her hands to her cheeks, sucking in breath.

"You're a wizard!" The tanned girl proclaims. "That's way too cute to come from 'Mukuro'! Wait, sorry... Muu- Mukuro?!"

Don't mind me, you want to say, I'm just reheating my food with my face. But you don't say it, because you are deceased.

"Augh, this is awful! Remind me to never try 'Fast Food'!"





You decide to keep the strange events of last night to yourself. (-5% Junko Dependency, +3% Despair)




The Speech classroom is actually a large lecture hall, held in Building 4, which is rather disturbingly close to Building 3, a smoking ruin. But Building 4 is completely intact, leaving the lecture hall standing in full glory.

Flags and banisters hang from the walls, covering the whole amphitheater-like set in bright colors and popping scenes, nowhere leaving the eye uninterested. And yet the acoustics are unimpeded, and you're dreadfully conscious of your footsteps as you clack down the stairs, your indoor shoes sounding like monoliths being laid in the ground as you approach the stage.

You only have a couple classmates. With the ever shrinking Hope's Peak class size, there are more electives being taught then students to take them. Speech only consists of the teacher, a brown-haired young woman who's name you simply cannot recall, and Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Sayaka Maizono, from your class. Both of them nod as you approach, Sayaka calling out a quiet greeting which nevertheless echoes around the lecture hall.

"Hello, Ikusaba."

"Good morning, Maizono." You respond. "Ishimaru."

Unlike yourself and Maizono, who are cognizant and aware of the echo effect, Ishimaru appears to have not yet gathered that noise is not needed here.

"GOOD MORNING, CLASSMATE!" He shouts, sending his voice rebounding around the walls and causing the teacher to flinch and hiss at him. "Ah! My apologies!"

Maizono grins sardonically. "Perhaps the first lesson should be volume control?" She snarks quietly.

"I concur!" Ishimaru says with not an ounce of shame. "I fear I've always been a loud speaker! Volume control is what I lack, and so shall be taught!"

"Please don't make up the lesson plan, Ishimaru." The teacher says, lifting her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. "But yes, for you, your first test is to go the rest of the class without speaking."

Ishimaru straightens, looks confused, then determined, then confused again, and then tilts his head.

"Very good." Says the teacher. "You're a natural." She turns to you and Maizono. "As for you two... First, we should understand why we're here and what we're doing. Just call me sensei while we're in here - names are important, they have power after all..." Sensei tugs at her shirt, which you notice is covered in the kind of writing you're more used to seeing on shinto wards and wiccan rituals. "But if you must know, my title is that of the Ultimate Public Attourney. Well, not any more. I've graduated. But I don't really think that should matter. Anyway, anyhow, so, yes, names. You are... Sayaka Maizono. I know you."

"Thank you, Sensei." Maizono says smoothly, with the sense she's had this conversation a million times before.

"You're a pop idol."

"Yes."

"That's too bad. I guess graduation would matter for you." Sensei says bluntly. Maizono's face drops. "For now, though, that's good. You have acting experience then?"

"...Yes?"

"Then you probably know much of what we'll go over in the first year. Acting and Public Speaking are very similar traditions. In many ways, lying to a crowd and lying to a camera are the same."

"...Okay?" Maizono glances at you. Sensei follows her gaze, her fish-like eyes resting on you for a moment. You have the sudden urge to stand to attention.

"You... I don't know you. Strong. Are you an athlete?"

"...Mukuro Ikusaba, Ultimate Soldier, Ma'am." You tell her.

"I see."

"An honorable profession!" Ishimaru blurts, before looking mortified and clenching a fist, lowering his head. Sensei pays him not an ounce of heed, her eyes trained on you.

"You are plagued by Nightmares." She says mystically, causing even Ishimaru to look up from his angsting over a single mistake. "Did you know? Nightmares are caused by demons that sit on your chest while you sleep. Yes. Nightmares."

"It's... Not a problem?" You say uncertainly.

"No. Not for you." Sensei backs up. "For class today, I want you to get to know your classmates. I will collect the information tomorrow. Good afternoon."

Maizono snorts as the young woman sweeps out of the room. "Does that include Ishimaru?"

Ishimaru nods so fast you can hear the wind coming off his chin. You shoot him a glance and crook an eyebrow.

He taps his chest twice, points at both you and Maizono, and then jabs at his own head before crossing his arms and nodding.

"You can talk you know, she's gone." Maizono says.

Ishimaru says nothing, instead glaring at Maizono. It seems he has no intent to speak again.

Maizono shakes her head and steps off the short stage and into the rows of seats, where she sits primly, throwing her long blue hair back. "Well, I suppose she did tell you. I still haven't forgiven you for yesterday, though, so remember that."

"What happened yesterday?" You ask, taking a seat next to her.

"Hmm? Oh. Well, I guess you're aware of why, but while I was in the principals office, Ishimaru decided to come in and 'help establish order'." Maizono says with air-quotes.

"...Maizono, if you don't mind me asking, what did happen yesterday?" You ask diffidently, ignoring Ishimaru's frantic signing.

"...It doesn't matter." She huffs, looking away. "Apparently I'm crazy anyway. And, go ahead and call me Sayaka. Everyone else does. It's just... I remember him looking different, as a kid. As in, a completely different race."

"You remember him as a different race?" You repeat. You'd heard of people "not seeing color" before - you yourself had worked with individuals of many races without caring much about it - but this was quite the extreme example.

"I could have sworn he used to be Japanese. His name is Makoto Naegi. That's a Japanese name!" Sayaka says, remembering to hiss instead of shout. "He... Michael Jacksoned me!"

"...I don't understand."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter." Sayaka huffs in consternation.

"Are you sure that's the one you remember? Makoto is a common name."

"I thought that was the case, but he says he remembers me. And when I saw a photo of his mother... She was Japanese too."

"A half-blood?" You ask, already suspecting the answer. Ishimaru has gone off on his own, and is now rummaging in his backpack. You pay him no heed.

"With that face? No way." Sayaka says firmly. "That's a pureblooded Gaijin if I ever saw one. Whiter than sour cream... Actually, there's something off about him in general. Not a half-blood thing, but like a general... Human thing? It's hard to describe."

You shrug.

Sayaka fidgets for a moment. "Like... Sometimes I joke that I'm psychic, but it's actually really good intuition..." She admits. "But... Not really? Does that make sense. It's like... Sometimes, I can just kind of gather information from people without really... Knowing how I do it. I don't really believe in psychics, but that's the closest way for me to describe it."

You frown. "I... Don't know what to say to that." You say quietly. That's not a normal talent, you think. You've never heard of such a thing.

Sayaka flinches."Well, I can't tell you, because that's what I would say in the same situation... But... That, weird, talent, thing? Just kind of slides off him. And I swear he smirked at me when I felt for it. Like he knew."

"Maybe he saw you looking at him."

"Maybe."

The conversation dies after that. But you have something to think about, when Ishimaru recovers his notebook and proceeds to attempt to scold Sayaka for "entertaining delusions" when she was meant to be studying. The two proceed to have the quietest argument you've ever half-heard, until the bell rings.






"Welcome to Psychology!" Says the bunny.

You lean back out of the door and double check the numbering. Surely...

"No, no, you have the right room! Come on, don't leave already!" The bunny calls.

It's pure white, with a little 'x' on it's belly and a protruding belly button, a frilly skirt and a ring on one ear. In other words, it's a 2 dimensional character in a saccharine environment and for a plurality of reasons shouldn't be talking to you.

And yet it is.

"Um..."

"I'm your sensei, Usami!"

You blink, then narrow your eyes. "Who are you really?"

Usami just giggles. "Try looking at the person behind the desk instead of the screen then."

Already feeling quite foolish, you look behind the desk.

Behind it sits a young girl, a third-year if you remember right, in a motorized wheelchair. Her hair is a steely blue, and her blue eyes sparkle with warmth. Her mouth is covered with a large scarf, and her heavy coat obscures everything else behind layers of formless cloth. The girl's head tilts invitingly, urging you inside. But she doesn't make a sound.

The bunny does, though. "Come on come on! Hurry inside, before you let all the cold air out!"

You obligingly shut the door, cutting off the flow of blessed cool air to the outside world.

"A-a-are neither of you c-c-c-cold?" Makoto asks from his seat, clutching himself tightly.

"Not at all." You reply.

"Nope." Says Usami.

"I'm more than able to handle it." Togami huffs.

"O-o-oh, right, you're h-h-here too."

"Suit up, cadet! Bring a coat to class next time!" Usami says brightly.

"S-s-sorry for not t-t-thinking I need-d-ded cold weather g-g-gear for s-s-social psyche..."

"It's like fifteen degrees..." You murmur, sitting down. The cold iron feels nice on your back.

"I p-p-prefer thirty, th-th-thank you."

"That's hot!" Usami exclaims, a small exclamation mark appearing over her head. The wheelchair girl controlling her lifted her eyebrows as well.

"C-c-can we just get to learning?"

"I agree. This conversation is going nowhere." Togami butts in. "Sensei?"

"Oh calm down, Togami. We're already learning!"

Togami's jaw clenches and he lifts an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

"Well, think about it! The temperature in here is the same for all of us, but for me and Ikusaba, it's fuzzy fuzzy warm, but for Naegi and yourself, it's pretty cold, right?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself." Togami snaps, irritated.

"You don't have to! You said 'I can handle it', not 'it's not cold' or 'it's okay in here'! Verbage is an important part of psychology!"

You and Togami both blink, looking at the little rabbit prancing on the screen like a cartoon for children while discussing a trap capable of catching a Togami in its clutches. Makoto shivers and breaths into his hands, less impressed, but still paying rapt attention.

Togami scowls, but unable to refute the evidence, just turns away. "So this was all an experiment?"

"No, I just like it cold." Usami says. Togami twitches angrily.

"You-"

"Anyway!" Usami interrupts, her controller's eyes sparkling with amusement. "I've introduced myself, but only kind of. My real name is Miaya Gekkogahara. It's kind of a mouthful, so Usami or Miaya both work, with or without the 'Sensei' attached. I'm a third year here, but I've got a doctorate in psychology. So don't you underestimate me! Go ahead and get to know each other now, because we're all going to be good friends by the end of the school year. Love love~!"

Togami and Makoto both glance at each other before looking slowly back at Usami. Or at least the screen the avatar appears on.

"So, what do the rest of you know about symbology?"

Togami sneers. "We're moving to marketing now?"

"BRRRT! Wrong answer! It has nothing to do with marketing! Ikusaba!"

"Uh... It's the study of symbols?" You parse the root word, but it doesn't tell you much. Wouldn't the study of symbols just be writing? Is generic writing even a field that can be studied without particulars?

"Close, but no cigar!" Usami cheers, drawing you a dangerous glare from Togami. "Naegi!"

"..."

Naegi sits silently in his chair, thinking hard. Then he lifts his hands as he shrugs. "I dunno, Miaya-sensei. What is it?"

Both sets of Miaya's eyes narrow. "Minus one-hundred billion love points for giving up! What about that symbol on your sleeve?"

Makoto starts, then glances at his own sleeve, where the small omega-like sigil still is. He twitches slightly, then looks back at Usami. "'ts nothing. Decoration."

Usami's tone loses all mirth. "No it isn't. It means something to you personally, doesn't it?"

Makoto stares, not at Usami's avatar, but directly into Miaya's eyes. She matches him, glare for glare, until he eventually folds.

"It's personal. A family thing. Like my necklace."

Usami's jovial tone returns suddenly, and in full force, all the intensity vanished like smoke. The manner in which she dominates the room is almost Junko-like. "And boom! See! Symbols have power! That's Symbology! Specifically, applied psychiatric symbology! This is really important, because the mind cloaks itself in symbols! Figuring out what symbols mean what to which people is a vital part of learning what makes them tick, and can tell you lots of things about a person without ever saying a word! Like how a cross signifies 'Christianity'!"

Makoto settles back into his seat, rubbing his sleeve. You can't clearly make out the symbol there... You absently scratch at the Fenris tattoo on your hand. Family...


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There's still the Talent Honing and Firing Range update to write, but the Firing Range in particular is going to be kind of long and this has already taken me since 5 o' clock to write for some reason, so I'm going to split the update here and do the rest tomorrow.

Miaya was actually pretty fun to write. I tend to keep certain musical numbers in mind as "themes" for characters; Miaya's was the Hero Chao Garden theme from Sonic Adventure 2, which says a lot about her personality. For those wondering, we didn't really get to see the real Miaya in Danganronpa, although she was mentioned and present in a lot of the side material and at least SDR2. The fact that Usami was her avatar though gives us a pretty good idea as to at least the personality she puts on. In a lot of ways, she's nega-Junko: both her and Junko put on a cutesy, ditzy front to hide a keen mind that susses out secrets like Kirigiri's guest appearance on Dexter, but while Junko exploits those secrets to cause Despair and break people down, Miaya uses them like a surgeon uses scalpels, gently prying apart the mind to get at the insides so she can put them back together, leaving minimal scarring. I have a blast writing Junko too, although I fear what would happen if they both got in the same room. Like recognizes like, and poor Miaya is legitimately disabled (unlike a certain other) and Junko isn't the kind of persons to have compunctions about wheeling her into traffic or something.