SAVE WHAT HAS BEEN LOST, BRING BACK WHAT ONCE WAS MINE... [CHAPTER 7: START!]
After a week of Mugmanās body being untouched, and the building of Small World being in shambles - it appears as though nothing had ever happened. The shards of Mugmanās body were swept up and cleaned, and the building looks as though nothing ever happened up there. You have grown used to the scene of the crime showing as if nothingās ever happened there to begin with, yetā¦
ITāS A WORLD OF HOPES, AND A WORLD OF FEARS... [EXECUTION: JUNPEI TENMYOUJI]
āYouāre all fucking idiots.ā
āYou see a few tears, and believe that Iām heartbroken?ā
āYou want the truth? Youāve got it.ā
āIām your horrible, disgusting traitor.ā
Exposed by Peterās shiny new metal detector to have a bullet lodged in his shoulder, Junpei immediately admitted to not only the murder of Mugman, but also to being the traitor of this killing game. Rejecting his camaraderie with his classmates and his love for Mugman, he told everyone that he was in the depths of despair, that his emotions heād shown before were nothing but an act.
injury tw (mentioning the ones from the execution), death tw, dismemberment tw (brief mention)
So. It was all over.
For him, anyways. Heād been executed. It had been.... rough, Junpei would admit, although he hadnāt really surprised. He had figured that the mastermind would be quite angry at him for the betrayal- but then again, wasnāt that what traitors did? Heād rather successfully managed to stab everyone in the back to at least some degree, so a brutal execution was to be expected.
When heād first opened his eyes after dying, heād assumed heād jumped. After all- he could never remember being a ghost. Whenever heād died, it was simply as if his existence.... faded. He just stopped 'beingā, as the darkness crept up and pulled him into a comforting nothingness. So, itād been natural to assume the same had happened there, right?
Except heād looked, heād seen his own blood, and heād seen all of them.
Heād thrown his hood up as soon as he realized that he was dead- if the others were anything to go by, that would likely mean his own body still reflected what itād looked like when heād died. While itād been quick, he still figured that the back of his skull would not be pleasant to look at.... not that the rest of him looked too pretty, either.
Naturally, heād wanted to get away. After all- they shouldāve all hated him, right? He was as culpable as the mastermind, regardless of the fact that heād wanted to stop the game- he was the reason all of them were here, like this.
And yet before he could leave, Mugman had thrown his arms around him and kissed him, and every wall Junpei couldāve possibly tried to throw up crumbled in an instant.
Everything seemed to move quickly after that, Junpei unsure of what really to say or do once everyone had filed out of the trial room. Heād followed the others, staying near Mugman for a while... but eventually, he needed space. He needed to have at least a little time to be alone.
He wasnāt thinking when he walked, simply wandering aimlessly through the park until he realized that his feet had brought him to the ride- the ride where Mugman had died. Where everything had gone so wrong, so fast.
Of course he wouldnāt show it, but his shoulder was screamingĀ in pain. Not just from the bullet, probably still in there- but the axe had further fucked his shoulder up quite seriously. The only reason he hadnāt been showing a ton of pain for that entire week had been the painkillers, and the fact that heād died before. It was easy to tolerate things when he could compare it to being literally stabbed, or having his arm cut off. Easy to pretend like every little movement hadnāt been hurting, especially as time went on and the poorly-done patch-job started to show wear.
After a few moments, his legs gave out and he slid to the ground, body weak. His left arm slumped to the side, bloodied and mostly useless at the moment, his back screamed in pain, and he had the worst headache of his life. Or.... un-life, perhaps. After all, he had died.
He didnāt really know how to feel right now.
On the one hand- he felt like heād failed, completely and utterly. Heād known that the trial wouldnāt be able to end things so simply, but heād still hoped that perhaps, he could figure somethingĀ out. But he hadnāt. And yet.... despite that, he couldnāt say it had been completely in vain. Every single plan heād come up with had broken down completely, he couldnāt say a single thing had really gone how heād wanted it to, but.. he was glad theyād dragged the truth out of him. He was glad they hadnāt let things rest.
It was selfish, really. Selfish to want to be able to tell the truth, after so much time of lying. Selfish for him to want his final act to be so cleanly struck down. But still, he was glad. Glad that they knew the truth, glad that heād been able to reassure them the best he could... and praying that theyād be able to overcome what remained.
He knew he couldnāt tell anyone who the mastermind was, still. It didnāt matter if he wasnāt around them anymore- he couldnāt. There was still too much at stake. He had no promise that Oswald wouldnāt be listening, and he would fully believe that the mastermind would still be willing to kill them all purely from spite- it was too dangerous. He couldnāt let the rest of them die, too.
Hero complex, or just a coward? He didnāt really know- but at this point, it didnāt really matter anymore. He was dead, and his role in this game was over. There were people who he wouldnāt be able to apologize to, people who he regretted not talking to before heād gone to help the mastermind... people who he wouldnāt ever be able to talk to now. Hopefully, someone who survived would know, and be able to tell them the truth about him- if it hadnāt already been made horribly clear.
For just right now, heād allow himself a little self-pity. He hurt too much to really do much else, after all.
Everything was coming to an end now, one way or another.
He could only hope that, at the very least... his friends truly would survive this.
aĀ āoutfit changeā for junpei! Post trial, heās always got his hood up. Something closer to how he actually looks is under the cut for blood/mild gore (shoulder injury)
(please pretend like its not mirrored i messed up and drew his injury on the wrong shoulder originally rip me)
and, just for fun: a despair sprite edit. This man is not okay someone help him please--
Tws: major self-loathing/self-deprication tw, bullying mention, mild mention of post-mortem bodies/staring at corpses (no heavy description though), depression, anxiety, blood
minor/implied 999 spoilers
Falling asleep that night had not been easy.
When Junpei had first closed his eyes, itād been a dreamless sleep, but it hadnāt stayed that way for very long. Perhaps it had been from seeing Mugmanās corpse, or perhaps it had been for the same reason everyone else had been remembering things- but Junpei was remembering too.
The first time heād jolted awake from the nightmare, heād told himself it was just a dream. That it was only a dream, that this was all because of what had happened todayā¦ but the thoughts wouldnāt leave his mind. They were too real, too fresh, too painful- they were too much to brush away as simple dreams, and he knew that.
He knew that, and it terrified him.
In his memories, the most striking thing was always the blood. Or rather- not the blood itself, but the amount of it. Overwhelming, sickening- almost choking, the scent forcing its way into his nostrils and making him want to gag. He hated the scent of blood, it was always too powerful... and too familiar.
There was a dull sense of awe, a sickening feeling of curiosity when he saw the body. There was horror too, of course- but it was as if heād thought āoh, so thatās what happensā. Wasnāt it natural to be curious? Wasnāt that human too, in a way? To understand what happened when you died, how you died, how a body could deform...
But really, wasnāt that the only way someone could cope with something like that? Or had it only been that same horrid numbness that crept up on him at times, threatening to block everything out? He didnāt know- he couldnāt know, and he didnāt want to know. How could anyone cope with those memories, after all? It wouldāve been better if heād never remembered anything at all, he wouldāve preferred that.
He hadnāt been the one to kill them- not directly, at least. But bad luck was a merciless thingā¦
Thinking back, his mind drifted to thoughts of long before heād ever arrived at Hopeās Peak. They were memories that heād never lost, ones that had nothing to do with any of this- but, was that really true? After all, that summer had been the one where heād learned that humanityā¦ really wasnāt that beautiful. People were cruel. Sadistic. Merciless. They would hurt and they would take and they would feel nothing from it.
Heād only been twelve. Only twelve, and heād had to learn that lesson. Still a child, when the veil had been so cruelly ripped away. Only twelve, when heād learned that being an unlucky person was an unforgivable sin. His mere existence was enough to harm, destroy- heād deserved what heād gotten in school. Heād deserved to be bullied. Heād deserved to be hated. Heād deserved all of it.
He never should have been born.
It was unspeakably selfish of him to have ever thought that he couldāve had a happy school life. Heād been happy- god, heād been happy, but heād never deserved it. He was cursed, he was a freak, he was bad luck- he never shouldāve accepted his position at that school. Suffering silently at his old school wouldāve been better, for himself and the world.
He wanted to have hope. He wanted to cling to it, to grasp desperately at some reason, any reason to have hope, but it was difficult. The only thing he had left at this point was Mugmanās trial- if they could find the traitor, could they end this? If the traitor was the one behind this, the one working with Oswald, then all of this could come to and end. They would be able to end all of this.
Not that an āendā would mean much after Mugman had died, but heād find a different reason to live at a later point. Once the trial was over, then he could figure something out.
No matter how hard he tried to shut out the memories of whatād happened before all of this had started, he found it impossible. Vague impressions on his senses burned at the back of his mind, making his head spin. All of it was too much, far too muchā¦ but heād be fine. Heād be perfectly fine. He couldnāt ask any of them for help- heād allowed himself to fall in love with Mugman, and he had been murdered.
It wasnāt fair, none of it was fair- but that was life. Sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, life was simply unfair.
Turning onto his back, Junpei found himself staring at the ceiling of his room. It really hadnāt changed much at all over the course of the vacation- with the exception of those glow in the dark stars. They felt a little childish to him in some ways, and were honestly more than he was usedĀ to in terms of decorating... yet, he hadnāt taken them down. Heād found that he couldnāt.
He didnāt know when exactly heād started crying again, but he had. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared up at the little stars, everything thatād happened that day hitting him like he force of a train.
āAn.... eclipse...... this is just... just another eclipse......ā
Heād always thought his last name was weird, heād never liked it much as a kid... until his friend back then had mentioned liking it. Theyād told him they thought it was a little fitting, considering his luck- the bad luck was theĀ āeclipsesā, but after each one the moon came back, a little brighter than before.
It felt stupid, and he didnāt really think that it was true at all, and yet they were still words to cling to. He didnāt think there was any sort ofĀ āpositiveā to his luck, not when so many horrible things would happen- but the bad luck would pass. The recoil always hurt, but it would pass, and things would settle down.
Another eclipse. Another period of bad luck, some of the worst heād ever had in his life- but eclipses didnāt last forever, and they didnāt stop the stars from twinkling.
āIām... I-Iām... Iām so sorry, Mugsy, I... I-I... Iām sorry, but I... Iāll figure something out. I promise I will, so... please, donāt... donāt worry about me....ā The tears didnāt stop falling, and his voice was shaking, but he spoke anyways.Ā āItāll... itāll pass, and then Iāll be smiling again. B-But I... I canāt smile yet tonight. Itās not... itās not passed yet.ā
He was talking to himself, not to any possible ghosts that mightāve been there- he had no idea if any of them wereĀ there, considering he had absolutely no ability to sense them. Mugman, or anyone else couldāve been there- or absolutely nobody. It wouldnāt make a difference to him.
He figured that this was mourning, something natural. He didnāt like that somethingĀ ānaturalā was so painful, but he supposed that was simply another part of life. He would mourn today... and then by tomorrow, heād be better. He didnāt think he much wanted to leave his room, not when he felt so paranoid over his luck- but heād at least talk if people decided they were going to show up at his door.
The sky continued to grow darker, the tears eventually stopped falling, but the stickers in his room never stopped their gentle glowing. Even if everything was uncertain, even if it felt like everything that all of them knew was standing on the precipice of being uprooted forever, the stars continued to glow.
They were still there, just like he was.
And as long as they were, even the longest nights would have an end.
It was a memory- he knew that much. Thatās what it had to be, but that... it was....it made no sense, right? All of them in a schoolās uniform, talking together, no Oswald and no killing game. It was.... happy?
And yet, it filled him with complete dread.
There was no reason for it to make him feel so worried, right? And yet, even simple things like talking to Saturday or hanging with Mugman or watching Rocky get up to whatever recent nonsense was going on felt.... hollow.
Saturdayās theory about the memory loss had to be right, then. It explained a lotĀ of things, and this only further confirmed it- he wondered if everyone else had remembered something to, and assumed that it was a probable yes. After all... this was probably planned. He could only imagine that it was something Oswald had done, to try to break them down further.
Even with knowing that, it didnāt stop him from breaking down into tears once more inside his room. Thought of happy school days weighed heavy on his mind, thinking about how much a school life where heād simply be able to beĀ had been something heād dreamedĀ of when he was younger. So even with all that, even with people whoād accepted him- even still, itād all been for nothing.
Something horrible had happened to the world. Something awful, something he didnāt want to remember but did regardless.
And beyond that... there was something a little bit deeper.
He knew better than to bring up pointless thoughts by now, so it wasnāt like heād talk about any of this. Heād talk if someone elseĀ mentioned it, for sure- but he wouldnāt bring it up.Ā
Ā Ā Ā āIf āāāāās dead.... Iām going to be next.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWh-what are you talking about?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āWhat do you think when you hear the word...Ā āexperimentā?ā
Vague echoes of words heād heard once before haunted him, even when he closed his eyes. Conversations held privately, of things that did and didnāt make sense- but it was a little late for making sense, by now. Nothing really made sense anymore. Nothing had for quite some time, really.
He wished he could talk to people, talk about those memories and what things could mean for him and them and everyone, but he couldnāt. He couldnāt risk making anyone worry over him, not when so many people were hurting so much moreĀ than him.
So even if it was confusing and overwhelming and far too much for one person to handle on his own, heād deal with his memories alone.
TELL ME A SECRET AND UNLOCK MY HEART... [CHAPTER 6: START!]
Though the killer of arguably the most beloved person in the park had been caught and punished for their crime, it was hard to feel good about it. After all, they hadnāt even known theyād done it.
But still, rules were rules, even if you werenāt in control of your own body at the time of the murder. Of course, watching Yogi get brutally impaled wasnāt any easier than watching Michael purposely attack Oswald to get a penalty death, sacrificing himself either for the good of the class or so he could be with Yogi forever. Maybe both.
Heād cried a lot this time, he realized after- for the victims, the killer, for everyone still alive. It was hard notĀ to cry, not after everything thatād happened. It was a tragedy- all of this was. A series of horrible misfortunes borne of the most horribleĀ of circumstances.
People would keep killing, unless they could get out. Getting out on Oswaldās terms was not acceptable- Junpei wanted all of them to make it, not just one person getting out free because they got away with a murder.
He knew that, he truly did, and yet that didnāt stop the way that his heart felt like it was breaking. Saturday was blaming herself, everyone else had seemed like they probably were too- and Junpei wasnāt an exception to that. He felt no different, not really... except, he had his luck.
If the dead were going to blame anyone, they could blame him.
Despite his attempts to seem confident at the trial, the facade was broken the moment he shut his door to his room. He wasnāt confident, he wasnāt brave, he wasnāt strong- he was hurting, and praying that none of them would see how deep it went.
He could be brave tomorrow. He could pretend to be strong tomorrow. But for tonight, heād let himself fall into yet another restless sleep, making yet more pointless prayers that nobody else would have to die.
OVER THE HILL OR UNDERLAND...Ā [CHAPTER 5: START!]
After a horrifying and painfully emotional trial of brotherly love and betrayal, with Mugman and Cuphead being shattered in different ways, those remaining slowly filed their way out of the trial room and back to the castle above. Unlike the last trial, this one ended before the clock even struck noon; though the day stretched before them all with near-limitless opportunity, the overwhelming weight of what they had just witnessed ensured that none of them would enjoy it.
tws: mentions of bullying, blood, injury, self-loathing/depression
In the back of his mind, Junpei didnāt know if heād made the right choice.
Telling everyone about his talent- he didnāt regret that, strangely enough. It was better than having to hide it, better than being constantly paranoid that someone would find out, and use it against him. Sure, it may mean people would stay away from him... but was that truly a bad thing?
He knew what people had said to him. That they didnāt blame him, that it wasnāt his fault... and while he appreciated the sentiments, it simply wasnāt true. He knew his luck. He knew what happened. People got hurt.
There was a reason heād voted for himself.
It wasnāt like heād wanted to get himself hurt, and heād knownĀ that the class would vote correctly... but in the end, he couldnāt accept Cuphead as the killer. He couldnāt accept that horrible execution. He couldnāt accept Cuphead up and dying like that, leaving Mugman behind.
The world was cruel. It could be cold. He knewĀ that- heād learned that lesson far too well when heād been twelve, an image of red stained into his mind and the pain of being beaten black and blue by some idiot sadist bullies still echoing at the back of his memory. But still, he wanted to believe in something good.... it was just that, those good things didnāt happen to him. There was a reason heād moved to Hopeās Peak, despite being scouted on account of bad luck- itād still been better than the other school. Heād wanted to lie, to pretend that he wasnāt unlucky... but then this game had happened. It mustāve been punishment from god, for thinking he could actually escape his luck... instead of a new school and a new start, heād been thrown into a game of death.
And still, even still, Something as simple as Mugman hugging him and crying was enough to pull him back from the edge of despair, to give him a reason to want to hope.
He was unlucky, and he knew that. And yet, even accepting that, he was going to refuse to let that bad luck interfere now. If there was recoil, heād deal with that later- heād accept whatever was thrown back at him, even if that did mean death, so long as he could keep his promise. It didnāt matter whoād given him this luck; be it god, the devil, or something else entirely- he wouldnāt just lie down and accept this.
Mugman, Saturday, others too- they hadnāt hated him, even knowing his talent. They hadnāt blamed him, theyād accepted him. Even Rei, despite the fact that he couldnātāve known about Junpeiās talent- even then, heād still been nice to him. If he let himself freeze up, if he stumbled, heād only be letting all of them down, wouldnāt he?
Heād take on all the bad luck in the world, if he had to- heād just make sure to keep his promise. He hadĀ to.
WELCOME TO OUR BROTHERLY TIME... [EXECUTION: CUPHEAD]
āI canātā I canāt keep it a secret anymore, I really canātā¦ā
āIT WAS ME!ā
āTheyāre dead, anā itās my fault!ā
Pushed to the breaking point and cornered by the ceramic shard discovered at the crime scene, Mugman confessed to the horrific triple murder in the water park.
In all honesty, Junpei couldnāt remember much of whatād happened this time.
Heād been so goddamn tired, his whole head had been fuzzed up- actually managing to communicate with other people properly had been hellish, and heād barely been aware of what heĀ was saying, let alone other people. Heād ended up mostly just parroting the others during the trial, hoping that something he was saying was making sense... because fuck if heĀ knew if it was.
And yet, for all his trouble with communication, his eyes were working just fine- and seeing that gunshot had somehow been too much for him. Heād gone silent in the trial room, managing to mutter something soft about needing to leave- and then heād gone immediately to his room, collapsing on a heap on his bed. He wanted to sleep, he was exhausted... and yet, his sleep wasnāt restful at all. It was plagued with nightmares, vague memories and echoes of the executions, the deaths, the murders-Ā the blood and gore and violence playing on an endless loop in his mind, the stench of blood and something foulĀ forcing its way into his nostrils and making him feel as though he was going to be sick.
They were dead. His friends had been murdered. He hadnāt been able to help them- he hadnāt been able to saveĀ them- they were dead, they were dead, they were dead-
Junpei awoke with something of a start, barely managing to stumble his way to the bathroom before he was sick, the burning feeling of acid in his mouth an unpleasant aftertaste.
He wasnāt asĀ tired, and yet he didnāt feel rested at all... but heād try to go back to sleep. Continuing on without any wasnāt going to be good for him at all...
Hopefully this time, heād have a sleep without dreams.
I CAN GO THE DISTANCE... [EXECUTION: MANAMI SANGAKU]
Nineteen frayed and weary minds, most of them fresh from the scene of their beloved classmate Alyssaās brutal murder, were locked in a room with each other. Try as they might, their own exhaustion and the sheer messiness of the scene made it nearly impossible to make any headway into flushing out the killer.
When Oswald drops a little hint as to some of the side effects they were dealing with, Rei and Saturday began a final gambit: the murderer was suffering from paranoia due to a lack of sleep, and by agitating everyone, reminding them that they were all being watched by countless people they could find out who the culprit was.
Though the group went around and around, focusing on Peter Pan for quite some time, the culprit ultimately revealed themselves.
areudirty
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