Welcome to my writing blog! Oneshot/headcanon requests are temporarily closed as I catch up lol. Prompt lists and things are tagged ‘ask game,’ but feel free to shoot me anything that’s on your mind -- random thoughts, questions, ships, etc! I’ve been in Milgram Mode lately, but I also write for fe Echoes and any fandoms you catch on my mainblog :3 (Original aus I'm collaborating on are Lights Camera Sing Your Sings, Order of Attack, and Myosotis)
✍️Currently working on:
Not requests but I'm getting to my LCSyS updates, Thermoregulation stuff, and some translyric projects :)
Milgram timeline reference I made up to help me keep the dates straight in my head lol. I chose specific dates -- birthdays, possible crime dates, the start of milgram irl, and today -- to compare how old characters would be then. The +/- marks the discrepancy between how old we thought they were then, and how old they actually would have been. (I know we have a few guessed bdays for Es, but I'm only counting the year based on the comments during Confessions of a Mask.)
A little Chapter 3 Deltarune thing I was inspired to write! I got the idea back when the chapter first came out, something about the soul not meshing with Kris’ piano playing but having other skills, and finally got it down on paper while riding the chapter 5 buzz LOL. It’s my first time writing in first person in forever, and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out :D
“Ooh, ooh!” Susie grabs a handful of my shirt. Her claw points excitedly to the screen, causing the bowl of popcorn on her lap to leap up dangerously with the motion. “Noelle said you used to play, is that right?”
I follow her gaze to the character playing some flashy keyboard. She lingers on the channel for an extra moment, watching the musician’s scaley arms fly across the keys. My attention quickly refocuses on her – it’s still jarring to see her here, in my house, on my couch. Her presence is as out of place as it is familiar.
“I guess,” I mutter and offer the ghost of a shrug.
“She said you took classes and everything.”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t notice my reluctance. More likely, she just doesn’t care.
“And you were actually good at it?”
“Yeah.”
“Who even taught you?”
“Your mom.”
Her next question is cut off by one of her loud, growly laughs. I keep my expression controlled, but can’t help the warmth in my chest. Susie resumes rapidly flipping though channels as she nudges me. “I mean it, loser!”
Before I can suggest we change the subject, I spot my mom in the doorway. She’s giving up on her pretense of minding her own business by stepping into the room and answering for me.
“It was a family friend,” she says. “Kris complained at first, dragging themself around the house in all sorts of little tantrums~”
“Mom…”
The last thing I need is Susie regretting her camaraderie with me. I’ve finally found people who didn’t know me when I was stumbling after them on tiny feet – I wince as mom’s tone reminds us that I’m always be the baby to her, and to everyone else in this damned town.
At least Susie isn’t buying it. She shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Crumbs fly as she muses, “I get it. I’d hate doing extra classes on top of school...”
“Oh, I don’t think they minded the lessons themselves. Piano just wasn’t flashy enough.”
“Eh?”
There’s that grossly sweet smile of hers, and I know she isn’t looking at me anymore – she’s seeing me and Asriel from half a decade ago. “It’s adorable… Kris had big dreams of being in a rock band.”
“A rocker? You?” Susie’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s badass! What made you wanna do that?”
I bend my head to let a fringe of hair hide the way my eyes dart away from the question. I try to ignore the rapidly surfacing memories of discordant plucked strings, of frustrated tears wiped away, of another’s hands guiding my own into the right shapes.
But Mom is smiling, with that unreadable shade of emotion she gets caught up in the same kind of memories. “There was always a lot of music over at the Holiday’s place. I caught Kris trying out the guitar a few times. Maybe… one day… you can take lessons. How does that sound?”
I clench my fists in my lap. I could never survive something like that. Each hour would be agonizing, letting someone else teach me instead of who it should have been. I’d be utterly miserable.
“I’d love that!” you say.
I tense, but no one notices. Mom nods, satisfied, and Susie is shifting positions on the couch. She speaks up before I can blurt out that you sure do need lessons, if your piano skills are any indication of your musical talent. She reclines across the cushions, purposefully smushing me into the arm with her legs.
“You want more classes? Nerd.”
“Tch. Weirdo.”
“Freak.”
“Dumbass.”
“You’re the dumbass!”
“Language, children,” mom warns. Then, “Well… I’ll, um, leave you to it. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Goodnight, dears.”
She flashes a smile laden with confusion as she leaves. At least she understands the concept of giving someone privacy when they’re hanging out with their friend.
“Goodnight!” you call.
---
Mom isn’t the only one clinging to a younger memory of me, though. Later that night, we discover that Mr. Ant Tenna doesn’t really see me, either. He’s seeing someone smaller, with a headband tousled in their hair and hands pressed up against the fuzzy static of the screen. He’s presenting games to that Kris, with a glossy cheeriness that covers his cluelessness.
I know for a fact he’s misled when the curtain rises, and the three of us stand decked out in wild outfits. A crowd roars, ten times the size of the previous studio audience we were facing. I gape at them.
Susie spins, checking out her new leather and spikes. Ralsei’s gentle expression clashes with his flashy makeup and mohawk. My eyes flick over my own changes: colored bangs drape over my face, a glint of silver highlight in them. Shining leather pants meet with reflective heels. A bedazzled jacket frames my figure in startling shapes. An angular guitar crosses my chest.
It would be perfect if it wasn’t straight out of a nightmare.
Even without any sort of recitals in my life, I’d dreamt of performances without any sheet music. Not only am I unsure what to play now, I don’t know how. This new instrument feels clunky in his grasp. Regardless of the darkness over the stadium, I can feel the thousands of eyes on me.
My throat squeezes. All of my muscles are aching to run. I think about bolting backstage and giving that stupid television a piece of my mind about these games. Despite it all, my feet remain rooted in place. I can’t tell if it’s you or if I’ve already been consumed by stage fright.
Chords echo onto the stage to lead in the performance.
To my right, Susie sits down at her own instrument. Without a second of hesitation, she slams down on the drums. Bitterly, I wish I could find that same sort of carelessness. My music-trained ear picks up on my upcoming cue, but my fumbling hands remain trembling.
Why is the universe so determined to mock me? Rubbing it in my face, reminding me of yet another childish dream that isn’t realistic?
I shut my eyes tight.
Then, my fingers move with ease. The instrument sings out with a beautiful, rich distortion through the amplifiers.
I jerk my head down to watch the strings – you play each chord with clean movements. You strum with my right hand, using my left to slide across the frets and shape into various sounds. I can’t help my jaw from loosening.
You hold out a note, fluttering in a way that vibrates the sound before continuing on. How the hell did you learn something like this? I finally allow myself to look up at the audience.
They roar with a fresh wave of cheers. Hands and hats wave in the air. Camera flashes sparkle over the mass like light over the ocean. The spotlights swing around to join in the dance of light and catch on the iridescence of my jacket.
Hesitant at first, then gaining confidence, I lean into your playing. You attack the notes, and I go after the crowd.
I take on a new stance in my heels, something comfortable but intense. Recalling an old photo of Noelle in dark makeup and hair dye, I flip my bangs with a new confidence. I sway and lean. I tip my head back, and hunch over the guitar. I’m not Hometown’s quiet baby. I wink at the audience.
The subsequent squeals sent me stepping backwards in embarrassment. I’m getting carried away. I shouldn’t be having this much fun. I can only do this because of you, and even so, it doesn’t change anything.
But then Susie pauses her drumming just long enough to shove a thumbs-up my way. Her hair once again flies around in a wild, fiery halo as she beats on the drum set like she’s trying to break it.
Ralsei flashes me an encouraging grin through his singing. I wasn’t paying attention to the song before, but now that I listen, it sounds like something I would have sang back then, with everyone. I can picture them now, just over my shoulder – I can see those antlers bouncing along with the heavy rhythm.
She never saw me as someone young, or weak, or lame, even back when I was. Even without you giving me an extra edge, she always looked at me like she was proud.
The thought hits me amid the dazzling lights and music that vibrates through my very bones. It’s glamorous. It’s ridiculous. It’s the most fun I’ve had in forever.
My chest heaves from the effort, half of which isn’t my own, but I’m not angry about it this time. I would never go so far to say I’m grateful, but when you jump on the next verse, I smile.
Whether that's a classic rescue or a rescue reversal, I'll leave that to you.
Put that Coward who Pretends He’s Tough in Danger Right Now!!!! I’ll forever be emotional that someone like him who bought into toxic masculinity and the idea that he needs to be completely independent and violent was the one saved by the golden-hearted, abuse-broken little girl. Although there’s plenty of canon situations to explore, I couldn’t help going with a medieval/witch-hunt twist for a little extra damsel-in-distress vibes :3
It is assumed that the church acts as the authority on evil. That the priests and acolytes dictate what is sacred and what has been sullied. One may think that Amane, the daughter of a witch now passed, would be the town’s expert on defending against the dark craft.
Such an assumption is wrong.
When the time came, the decision didn’t fall to her at all – it was taken up by the raging crowd in the square.
She should have seen the rumbling of unrest from the citizens, but it was easy to ignore from the peace inside the temple. When Fuuta told her of the jeering voices that followed him around, she reminded him to turn his thoughts inwards and upwards.
“You have nothing to fear, my disciple.” She smiled at him. “The voices of humans have no power in comparison to God’s.”
That, too, was wrong.
The cries of “devil” and “witch” rose deafeningly as a group of villagers barged through the door to grab Fuuta. They arrived in the middle of an evening prayer, causing the two to snap their heads up from a reverent kneel toward the altar.
Amane rose to her feet, ready to deliver a calming speech, but was not given the chance. The crowd shoved her aside to reach their target. Dozens of hands fell upon Fuuta, dragging him to his feet and out the door.
“You murderer!”
“To kill such a young girl…”
“With a witch’s wicked tongue!”
“Don’t deny it!”
Fuuta’s eyes whirled around the group. “W-wait, that’s not –! You don’t understand! Amane!”
She rushed forward. A stray elbow sent her stumbling into a pillar. There came a sharp pain in her head, then darkness.
She woke with an ache throbbing behind her eyes. She forced herself to ignore it as she ran out into the warm night air. Her robes billowed around her; she didn’t have time to redress. The thought repeated over and over, she needed to find Fuuta. That is, if it wasn’t already too late.
She’d already missed the makeshift trial and verdict, by the sound of the commotion outside of the courthouse. In her experience, witch trials could forgive as easily as they could condemn – no true evidence was needed either way. The townsfolk’s feelings toward the defendant, whether a loving mother or a loudmouthed apprentice, were all the proof they needed.
Amane made it to the throngs of people gathered at the entryway. Despite the bright, flickering glow from torches and lanterns raised overhead, she couldn’t see a thing. Her protests went unheard. She wasn’t able to shove her way through.
With her throat squeezing in panic, she took off back toward the temple. Her legs flew up the belltower’s ladder. She leaned out under the grand bell and finally got a good look at the situation.
Fuuta emerged from the courthouse doors. Blood and bruises painted his face. His clothes showed stains, and his right eye was swollen shut from the beating. Members of the crowd yanked him forward by the shackles around his neck and wrists. His lips snapped at those around him as he fought against the restraints, but it was clear the physical and emotional drain would soon overtake him.
Amane’s eyes followed the lines of the masses to Fuuta’s final destination. Citizens were tossing firewood into a grand pile. A single stake rose in the center.
A pang of rage stirred in her gut, overpowering her fear for a moment. The town was awfully prepared for a witch burning, now. Where was this efficiency when her mother’s magic drowned her? Where were the shouts of injustice when she brought lightning down from the heavens upon her daughter? Why was it up to Amane herself to silence her calls to the devil?
She pushed the thought away. Her eyes scanned over the view, seeking out anything that could help. To her dismay, not one citizen appeared inclined to stop the impending execution. The towering, torch-clad bodies didn’t show any weak points until reaching the execution platform. The nearest water pump stood on the neighboring street, too far to be of any use.
Fuuta was dragged on. Though not entirely silent, he hunched himself against the hateful rioting around him. A final tug sent him sprawling forward onto the cobblestone in front of the stake. The group took the opportunity to lift him up onto the firewood.
Amane was out of time.
She rushed back down the ladder. Following the paths she’d spotted from the belfry, she headed toward the stake. Again, she tried to raise her voice against the crowd and express some sort of authority in her white embroidered robes. Again, she went ignored. A sudden chorus of cheers chilled her blood. The fire had been lit.
“You bastards! You’ll all pay for this! You – you’ll fucking pay!”
Fuuta’s threats only became audible when she arrived, his voice hoarse and weak from the ordeal. She finally got a good look at him through the townsfolk. No matter the venom to his words, his expression betrayed his desperation. He released hysteric, rapid breaths as he struggled against the chains that had been wrapped haphazardly around him. They locked his limbs in place, leaving him no way to shy away from the flames licking closer.
Amane broke free of the crowd, to where everyone had given the fire a wide berth. Even from that distance, the heat felt sharp and suffocating. Fuuta was too preoccupied with the pain and panic to notice her presence, but at long last, the rioters did.
They watched her curiously as she spun back to face them. They didn’t appear hostile to her, but that was about to change. Amane swallowed hard.
“Oh, Wise One.” She bent her head away from God. “Forgive me.”
She lifted her palms. The townspeople really should have looked to the church for guidance. They should have treated her as the authority on witches. After all, her mother wasn’t the only one tainted with darkness.
A gust of air rushed through the square. The clouds churned. They blocked out the stars.
A wave of uncertain chatter rushed through the crowd. They watched as the wind picked up, causing Amane’s hair to encircle her head in a wispy halo. Thunder rolled as her clothes swirled up around her. With the sound of Fuuta’s pleads echoing in her ears, she brought her arms down.
What came tumbling out of the sky could hardly be considered rain. The curse brought water down in thick, choking streams. Fear echoed from the crowd as the onslaught crushed them from above.
Amane heard it sizzle on the firewood behind her, though she couldn’t enjoy the success. She forced air in and out of her lungs. The way the water spilled into her eyes and mouth was all too familiar to her. Through the rumble of thunder overhead, she swore she could hear her mother’s shrill cries.
The thunder crashed louder, this time bringing with it a flash of light. Screams erupted from the crowd as lightning blasted through a nearby roof. Another column struck a tree bordering the square. Debris whipped around the charged air.
Insults and accusations were indeed slung her way, but the chaos of the storm kept her safe from the citizen’s wrath. The weather raged until the final stragglers disappeared indoors.
Amane let her arms relax at her sides, the rain drizzling and calming in reply. She blinked. The power was intoxicating. Dizzying. The buzz of energy filled her again as she raised a finger toward Fuuta’s chains. They shattered.
He collapsed in a fit of coughing. The bottom of his legs were raw, but the rain had arrived before any serious damage was done.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Amane secured her arm under his, dragging him out of the smoldering mess with a burst of strength that didn’t match her size. She eased him down onto the cool stone. With all the lanterns extinguished or entirely destroyed, the pair sat in darkness.
The haze of magic receded. Amane’s gaze lowered once more. At least God had known what she was long before today. It was all a shock to Fuuta. She’d saved him, but she knew the cost.
“I… I know what you must think of me. I know how you must be feeling. All I ask is you follow my direction a little longer so I can get you out of the city, and then –”
She inhaled sharply as Fuuta lunged forward. His arms gathered her up into a tight embrace. He smelled of blood and smoke, but she leaned into him just the same.
“Thank you,” his voice was rough and trembling. “Thank you…”
I made a remark somewhere in the fic that Fuuta is worse off because Shidou didn't prioritize him, but I don't think I ever expanded on it.
Man… No one notices his drain damage in canon because they’re busy with Mahiru’s condition… no one notices it when he’s in Mahiru’s condition because they’re busy with Amane… The guy can never catch a break… I ended up switching my idea and giving this a good dose of Amane angst (not that I think you’ll complain hehe.) There’s reference to Fuuta’s symptoms, but everything is indirect.
“What is Amane-chan up to?”
She tensed, defensive, even though Muu didn’t say it with any accusation.
Every action, every choice, every little quirk of hers had been carefully monitored of late. It was no longer a kindness for her to bring food to a suffering patient – now, it could be “overexertion”. It could be “recklessness.” Worse, it could again be accused as “sabotage.” Her eyes darted down to the vegetarian breakfast.
“I’m bringing something to Fuuta-san. Something easy on his stomach.”
She carried the breakfast tray down the hall. Her shoes rested carefully on each step, her uneven vision threatening her usually perfect posture.
Muu fell into step. “Ohh, is he still not feeling well?”
Amane frowned. That was quite the understatement.
“His condition has worsened, yes. Shidou-san has noted increased irritability, so I’m hoping to improve his mood with a meal that he can keep down.”
“But…” Muu angled her head, genuine confusion across her features. “Isn’t Fuuta always in a bad mood?”
She wasn’t the first to conflate the behaviors, to Amane’s surprise. Fuuta’s usual quips stemmed from his anxieties with a bit of arrogance. They held no true edge, and often sounded playful to her ear. His recent insults, however, were filled with a very real venom. As often as she reminded herself of the true reason behind his attacks – irritating hols in his memory and constant energy going toward his pain – the words still cut deep. More than once, she’d been forced to end her visits early to save face in front of him.
Did the others really believe he was always this cruel? Had anyone even spoken to him before now?
She gave a slight shake to her head. “This is something new. Which is why I hope he enjoys what I’ve chosen for him.”
The tray presented a carefully chosen balance of healthy and sweet. She’d prepared the fruit and honey and toast just as her parents had when she wasn’t feeling well.
Muu wasn’t looking at the nice display. “I mean, you could just take him to the cafeteria, right? Shidou-san got that wheelchair and everything.”
“W-well, but it’s more than just getting him there.”
While all of Amane’s behaviors underwent supervision, it felt like Fuuta’s slipped by completely ignored. Kazui hadn’t seen the way Fuuta flinched against the lights he flicked on when visiting the cell. Mahiru paid no mind to his wincing when her cheery voice lilted too loudly. Even Shidou, who spend all his time working out compromises and comforts for Amane, spent all his time focusing on her. He never asked Fuuta for his opinions on anything.
“He’s complained a lot about—”
“Hah, is there anything he doesn’t complain about?”
Amane straightened her spine. “There’s also the dizziness. And the memory problems. This is serious!”
The other brought her hand up to smother a giggle. “It sounds like all the things Muu did to stay home from school.”
“How dare you! Fuuta-san would never fake something like this!”
Startled a bit by Amane’s passionate response, she shrugged. “I’m not saying he is, just that it’s very easy to. I’m sorry.”
She sounded genuine, and for a moment Amane thought they’d reached a conclusion. Then, just as she turned to leave, she angled her eyebrows into something patronizing and pitying.
“You shouldn’t get so upset, I’m just being honest. It’s not like Fuuta hasn’t faked things for attention before...”
Amane was left stuttering and fuming in place. Did Muu think that past mistakes remained forever? Couldn’t she see that Fuuta was atoning? That all this pain was given by God for a reason?
She entered Fuuta’s cell, taking everything at half the pace to save her balance. She placed the food beside him. The clatter of the tray didn’t stir him.
Amane exhaled.
She shook his shoulder. She knew she should be more gentle with his injuries, but each morning her nerves got the better of her. His sleep was too deep, too still, and she found herself waking him in a hurry just to be sure he would wake.
“Fuuta-san. Fuuta-san!”
“What.”
“Good - good morning. I brought you breakfast.”
“Eh?” His eyes glossed over the tray. He made no move towards it. “Oh.”
“I picked it out special for you.”
“What, you gave me only baby foods? Mushy things and toast?”
“I… How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” he snapped. “Or haven’t you noticed?”
“R-right. I’m sorry.”
“Tch.”
Amane moved the tray onto his lap, ignoring his exasperation. She sat awkwardly beside as he started shifting things around with his utensils.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. It would have been nice to pray together again, but lately Fuuta had been forgetting all the words. No matter how much patience she displayed teaching him again and again, he made it clear it was a waste of his time.
The cell bars rattled open, and the doctor’s stern voice echoed inside.
“I have told you countless times --”
“I know. I’m not bothering him.” She stood to leave. The smile she gave Fuuta was one of warmth and resignation. “Remember, you can call for me at any time, and I’ll be here.”
Been bouncing around some ideas for this au after learning Mahiru’s family had money and influence and manpower to track her down after an arranged marriage 👀 It definitely works better for a mob family as opposed to the yakuza, but I'm in too deep now...
One option is that the two meet and fall in love normally, only for Fuuta's online snooping to lead him to some of the yakuza's crimes. In an attempt to call out these "ordinary citizens" who seem dangerously close to his lover, he ends up in the clutches of deadly gang members. Mahiru shows up, revealing her true identity, and uses her sway to free him.
Alternatively, Fuuta's dad is high enough in society and traditional enough that he's determined to ensure his son marries well. Fuuta brings up Mahiru in conversation, mentioning his feelings for her (in his tsundere way). While he was actually lamenting that she's trapped in the controlling household, his father only processes that Fuuta has fallen for a wealthy heir. He speaks to the Shiinas and arranges for the pair to be married.
Another fun choice (and inspiration behind the second sketch) is that Mahiru is open about her identity, and Fuuta tries to expose her crimes on his account. She has plenty of protections, so she hardly feels his digital attack. Instead of fear/anger, she falls head over heels over the cute little self-appointed hero she met online. She wants to dote on him, her family wants his callouts silenced, so it's decided she'll keep him as her new forced fiancé <3
I went with a phoenix/fire tattoo for her because of her bird symbolism, "overheating" love, and the idea of returning after death is very fun for this cast hehe
Ummmmm a little indulgent thing based on that third option 👀
“A gift? For Mahiru?” The woman pointed to herself. She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from her. “You shouldn’t have!”
Sitting in the dim, smoky restaurant, the announcement from her bodyguard came out of nowhere. She was used to receiving gifts from other factions – things that could earn them favor with her or her family. The presents were beautiful and rare, but she wasn’t so naive to believe they meant anything personal.
Her excitement that this would be an exception was almost immediately dashed. Following the guard’s clipped whistle, two towering men dragged in a body.
Not the type of gift a woman likes to receive, no matter how highly ranked in the yakuza she may be.
Mahiru kept her expression light; it would have been rude to deflate as she wished to. She waited patiently as the bloody form was brought to her table. The wrists were bound, and a bag was knotted around its head. The men shifted it around in some semblance on kneeling when they arrived at her side.
“Your parents mentioned a cyber threat,” her bodyguard said flatly. “Harassment, hindrance, and drawing more attention to the Shiina than is appropriate.”
One of them tugged the bag away, releasing a mess of wild red hair.
“His name is Kajiyama Fuuta, and he won’t be bothering you any longer.”
Mahiru leaned in. Now that he mentioned it, the corpse did resemble the grainy photos she’d seen of her cyber stalker. He would have looked rather cute in person, if not for the tape wound around his mouth, or the blood that crusted around his right eye and down his cheek.
She angled her head to get a better view when the body suddenly let out a cough. Mahiru squealed as he wheezed in another rattling breath through his nose and jerked himself upwards. Her hand flew to her chest, unable to hide her shock that he was alive.
That made for a slightly better gift, at least.
“We’ve erased what we could, and left our mark where we could,” the man continued as Fuuta gained his bearings. “No one will come looking for him.”
The bodyguard reached out, passing her the end of a rope. Her and Fuuta’s eyes followed it to discover the other end around his wrists. He let out a muffled protest and yanked himself back, only to meet with two firm hands on his shoulders and one gun barrel to the back of his head. His face paled.
Mahiru gave it a little tug herself, drawing Fuuta toward her. Her eyes widened in wonder. So this was the young man who had dedicated so many hours to her. He’d stayed up through the night thinking of her, and gathered various photos of her. Sure, the publicity proved an issue, but there was no doubt that this man was obsessed with her.
Her heart raced. She’d never had an admirer like that before.
“I see. You don’t need him for anything? He’s really for me?”
What was that about Shidou in LCSYS? Can't say the same for Kazui-
LOLLL, honestly the craziest reveal of this trial 😂 Have a little short and sweet follow-up concept to “everyone has a crush on Shidou”, which is “everyone is gay for Kazui.” Nothing explicit but I mean they’re talking about his virginity sdfdsf
“Never?”
Kazui frowned. “Kashiki-chan.”
While the others came to their own conclusions around the table, Yuno continued glancing between the report and his face.
“Okay, okay.” She squinted. “…But never?”
He let out a sigh.
Mahiru’s gaze was distant in dreaminess when she spoke. “It’s a little romantic, isn’t it? Saving yourself, even past marriage, for your true love?”
“But it wasn’t for true love,” Fuuta said. “It was that asshole.”
Kazui winced. He shook his head gently. “Ryousuke is a good man. I put him in a tough position. He was just…”
“A raging homophobe?” Fuuta crossed his arms. “He is not fucking worth waiting for.”
“I wasn’t waiting, though…”
Shidou, who’d been watching everyone’s expressions, interrupted with an easy smile. “Perhaps these are not memories Mukuhara-san wishes to relive. Nor things we should get too loud about with the children in the other room. Shall we continue?”
Yuno looked at him with apology. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I just think it’s the most unbelievable thing so far!” She nudged him playfully. “You know you don’t have to lie anymore, we won’t judge you for any little pre-marital escapades. ”
“Hold on. You’re discovering the life stories of nine other murderers, and you’re most surprised about my sex life? That’s ridiculous.”
“I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately…?”
Mahiru’s enthusiastic nodding made him flush. “Hah… you kids have such dirty minds. People aren’t always thinking about that. Especially when it’s other guys.” He turned to the men gathered. “I mean, when you look at me, it’s not like that’s your first thought.”
Silence settled over the table.
Mikoto shrugged. “Depends on the day.”
Fuuta’s face had gone bright red, speaking the answer for him. He simply turned his head away and snapped, “don’t let it give you a big head, old man!”
Kotoko leaned over to tease him, but Yuno moved on to Shidou’s cool expression. She poked at his side. “And you?”
“I’m married.”
Kazui gestured to him in gratefulness.
Yuno narrowed her eyes. “Avoiding the question, I see…”
Much like how Life (Yuno's report) was explained in a long ramble, I'm curious to see how Non-Demonium was done in the LCSYS AU! Aside from their "real" ages, I also want to see the older prisoners' reactions (especially Shidou) of Amane beating up her mother/abuser.
Though I could've worded that last part better, it just goes to show how much I love this AU that this fic has now been living rent-free for the past few months! Keep up the good work ^v^
P. S. Can't wait for the revision!!!!
Ah, yes! I also included thoughts about her vd you mentioned in our chat -- this turned into a whole Amane ramble hehe. Thank you so much for the questions and the patience! It means a lot as I get my act together to get the revisions all together 😂🫡
So, Amane’s story stays very similar aside from the actual day of the murder. She notices her mother getting worse, and gets hints that she’s thinking about medical care, all which leave Amane with the fear that her mother would ask her to help. This time, however, the illness episode happens while Amane is out, and her mother is forced to make the call herself. She’s rushed to a hospital, and treated there. While Amane is still processing her mother’s “betrayal,” she’s taken in by Milgram.
I know this makes Amane the only prisoner who didn’t actually carry out any of her ‘violent’ actions beforehand, but I feel like once she started, there would be no way to recover from that situation. Similar to Shidou (ironically) she always had the idea/conviction of doing it, and Milgram has some supernatural ability of knowing that, but she never actually harmed anyone.
As for the reactions… oof…
I can see the older ones going crazy reading her new report and demanding the adoption process hurry up 😅 Kazui would kick into high gear making calls and getting child services aware. Shidou would set her up with a specialist to make sure there was no hidden damage/lasting illness from the previous beatings. She would hate that so much of a fuss is being made over her, but I think by this time in the trials something finally clicks about her previous treatment. She’d start having realizations about the reality of her situation then, and everything comes to a head during her interrogation with Es.
I’m going to keep the writing light when I get back to the fic sections, but I can’t help but think of a serious conversation between her and Haruka… Something where she’s convincing him that he didn’t deserve such baseless punishment in order to earn his parent’s love, and having a hard time realizing the commentary applies to her, too. On a smaller scale, it would be fun to see her talk with Mikoto or Mahiru about abusive systems that they dedicated their life to (religion, work, the idea of true love) only to realize the reward wasn’t worth it.
As for the filming itself, I can imagine everyone getting a little restless seeing just how violent things were in the Momose household :( Even though her mother is played by a lookalike, Amane avoids her shooting sessions, and the others leap into Protective Mode. Those who do watch the mother's scenes head straight to her bedroom to comfort her and tell her how Not Normal that is. Some try to convince her to change her script, stop filming her own sections, and not go through that pain. With Kotoko’s encouragement, she reminds them that she must face the truth, and they must face the truth, no matter how ugly it may be.
On top of everyone's extra protectiveness, prisoners like Kotoko and Kazui are impressed by her strength and conviction, and earn a little more respect in their eyes. Others, like Fuuta and Muu, make a mental note not to piss her off 😅 Mahiru would be the most vocally emotional about the whole thing, but Amane is mostly just grateful she doesn't hold the whole indirect murder thing against her ;-; (Now that I say that, I wonder if she/Muu/Kotoko would ever share their guilt over killing another prisoner...)
And for the vd!
It’s funny, I pictured everyone going crazy over the mvs just before the trial starts, but I never considered them hearing each other’s vds after it ended… 👀 I definitely think they’d all want to keep those moments private, but I wonder if Jackalope demands the group go through all the material in order to plan out their new songs. Though, even by that logic, they can keep their third trial ones to themselves, still. Some details, like Yuno’s hug or Muu’s crying are easy enough for them to admit while in prison, still. Others, like Kazui and Amane’s conversations, would likely stay a secret to them.
Fuuta hears the most details as her closest confidant, but neither share everything. Even if it’s the same things everyone has been telling her, Amane is able to open up more around Es and have that very vulnerable moment with them. She respects them admitting they’re a kid and their own open emotions, and doesn’t want to go around sharing that with everyone.
based off my theory amanes crime happened in the 90s/2000s, post crime shes put into foster care/witness protection as she's too young to be charged + it's deemed as self defence. she ends up being adopted by a family with an infant son, and her names legally changed to Nagisa.
now when fuuta ends up in milgram he finds amane looks oddly familiar but doesn't know why, things go the same as canon and then he's dropped off back home post milgram now very traumatised. then sees a old family photo while tryna calm down, the dots connect and he immediately calls up his sister going "YOU WERE IN A CULT?? AND INDOCTRINATED ME????"
now why amane/Nagisa never brought up milgram growing up? uhh idk. maybe she repressed it and fuuta reminded her, maybe she semi remembers but wrote it off as something she imagined due to dissociation or hell maybe she just never saw the point in doing so and decided "we'll get there when we get there"
(there's also a funny slight alternate route where amane ends up in milgram not long after being adopted. nothing changes other than her knowing that's her baby brother during milgram but she never tells him cause he won't believe her anyways)
Really love this idea…. Such a fun path to take…. 👀👀👀 I do think Amane would try to stop his crime if she remembered, so I’m going with the “repressed as a traumatic dream”/Milgram’s amnesia magic at work. It’s interesting now finding out she’s just a year older than him (I really liked the image of her holding him as a lil baby ;-;) because Milgram-Fuuta would really think she looked like young Nagisa.
She could be so insistent on her name and religious identity, though, eventually he’d drop it as a weird coincidence. (You could also swing that Amane radically changed her appearance as soon as she left her home, because of how similar she and her mother looked…) Or, Fuuta might understand right away what happened, and realize this is his chance to get to Amane and convince her on the path to joining his family.
It’s adorable thinking of Fuuta giving her the bad haircut, and wishing he could remember his sister’s advice – and the reason his sister gave him that advice in the first place was because somewhere in her mind she remembered that awful bangs job 😂 I have a little two-part drabble because I wanted a little snapshot of both points in time...
“I only have one question for you.”
Shouichi was an intimidating man. He stared down his nose at Amane, his thick brows narrowing his eyes into a glare. “Why me?”
It was a little late to be asking, seeing as the rest of the process completed this morning. Still, she couldn’t blame him for his curiosity. It didn’t even make sense to her. But God’s plan didn’t always need to make sense – you just needed to follow it.
She folded her hands neatly together in front of her. “It may sound silly to you, but... I had… a dream. A message. Your name came to me. All I knew… I knew I’d be safe with the Kajiyamas.”
Shouichi mulled over her words in silence. His eyes flicked over her expression until she broke her gaze away.
Then he knelt in front of her.
“I understand you were raised in a very religious household. I must warn you, I don’t believe in messages from God like that.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “But as long as you’re sure you want this, you are free to stay with us.”
She didn’t realize how much tension she’d been holding within herself until tears sprung to her eyes. She caught her breath. “Th-thank you, sir. I really do.”
He offered a curt nod. “Alright.” Moving to the doorway of the little office, he called down the hall. “Fuu-chan, come here. This is the young lady I told you about.”
A boy crept through the doorway. He had his father’s wild red hair, though his eyes were rounded rather than calculating. He seemed awfully small, though he was only a year younger.
Shouichi gestured to Amane. “I’d like you to meet your new sister. This is… er, you’re changing your name, correct? What should he call you?”
She didn’t truly believe anyone in her cult would come after, but she had readily agreed when the social workers suggested a new identity. This was her fresh start. Her rebirth.
Her mind spun with name possibilities. She never watched much TV, and had few friends her age. What were good names for a little girl? For a daughter? For a big sister?
“Nagisa.” She blurted. Something tugged at the back of her mind, but there was no time to discern why she’d stated it so confidently. Shouichi was pulled away to finish paperwork. The two children were left facing each other in silence. Amane shifted on her feet.
Suddenly lurching into motion, Fuuta stepped closer. He dug his arm into his pocket. Without meeting Amane’s eyes, he pulled out an action figure. It was some superhero, scratched up and with bite marks on one of the legs.
“Pa said you’ve been through something scary.” He muttered. “That’s why you’re living with us. Sometimes, to feel brave, I… um...” He shoved the figure forward, too embarrassed to finish. “You can keep it.”
Though the motion was aggressive, he offered the toy somewhat reluctantly. Rather than accept, she curled her fingers around both the toy and his hands.
“You don’t have to give this to me – it can be both of ours. We’re family now, right?”
“O-oh. Yeah.”
Kajiyama Nagisa smiled.
---
Over the years of cheering up her scowling baby brother, Nagisa assumed she was prepared for whatever ridiculous trouble he’d gotten himself into this time. She could not have been more wrong.
She stared out of her bedroom window, her gaze somewhere else entirely. Her legs floated under her; she didn’t feel connected to the world around her. Memories tore through her mind.
Never able to handle too much silence, Fuuta spoke up at last.
“So, you remember now?” He perched on her bed, his hands wringing his hoodie strings so that they frayed.
“Not all the details,” she said distantly. “Back then… it was all a blur, and I thought it was some kind of nightmare. They tell you that trauma does weird things. A religious chorus kid could definitely have a dream about judgment, and the afterlife, and music. I could have heard your name said out on the street, or read it somewhere. I never thought… I mean, it was never real...”
“It was real, Amane.”
No one had called that in over a decade. The sound rung in her ears, stirring deep inside her.
“Do you at least remember,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “we were close?”
“Well, it sort of merged with growing up together. We were always close, you know.”
“Yeah.”
She remained silently watching the flicker of lights from the surrounding buildings. The tightening in her chest squeezed all the way up her throat, until a sob broke through.
She turned to Fuuta. “I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth, leaning back against the window for support. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember sooner. I had the chance to warn you, to save you. I should have saved you.”
“No.” He stood, frantic at her sudden change in demeanor. “I didn’t tell you when things got bad because, well, I thought you wouldn’t understand. Ironic, huh? But also…”
He wrapped her in a hug. Though he stood mere centimeters taller, an old feeling washed over her – a time where she curled up in his lap, wholly encircled by him.
KITTY FUUTA!!!!! Thank youuu, it was definitely funny thinking kitty thoughts for him :3 For a while I wanted him to be a human transformed within Milgram, but in the end it worked better if he was always a cat lol. I pictured all the prisoners as kitties, and Es their eventual (slightly reluctant) caretaker 😂 (Normal au for Es, though I was wishy-washy about their home life in line with our limited info.)
Es heard the visitor long before they saw him.
They swung their legs from the front step. It was yet another quiet evening, and they preferred to people-watch while they ate their dinner. Anything was better than the empty kitchen.
They couldn’t completely escape the loneliness here on the street. Few pedestrians passed them by, and even fewer acknowledged their presence. They munched on the convenience store food as they watched the sky fade from brilliant blue to a dull dusk.
A string of meows preceded the orange cat that strut from the bushes. He paused in place to give Es a weary stare, but returned to his chattering soon after.
Es smiled. Their expression brightened as the tiny, trembling nose headed toward their food. They broke off a piece, placing it on the ground in front of them. The cat snatched it up, bringing it a few feet back to enjoy in peace. His eyes studied Es with suspicion, despite the gift.
“A little company is nice, eh?” they said, stretching out their hand. Their parents were out late again; it had been a while since they had someone to share a meal with.
The cat came sniffing closer, cautious. Es angled their fingers gently to touch his fur. He clamped his jaws around their palm.
Es cried out at the bite, sending him racing off down the street.
“Oi!” They cradling their bloody hand. “Asshole…”
They spotted the cat more and more, on their way to and from school, hanging laundry outside, or picking up the mail. Fast as the wind and howling louder than typhoon gusts, they dubbed the stray Fuuta within their mind. They wondered if they should have picked something harsher, the way he screeched and scratched at other cats. He swatted just as eagerly at people and dogs that towered over him. After school one day, Es was heartbroken to find a dead bird on their stoop – the work of that cruel creature. If this kept up, there’d be no animals around at all.
The next time he approached during their solitary dinner, Es was prepared. They drew their food close to themself, and their hands even closer.
“Don’t even think about it,” they muttered in response to his incessant meows. They took their umbrella from the steps, brushing it in his direction. “Shoo, shoo!”
Fuuta released a threatening hiss, but scampered away without a fight.
Es didn’t see him again for a while. Days passed. A week. They ate inside on the night of a storm, their mood souring from the lonely night, even as the storm cleared. They didn’t expect to be woken so suddenly, screaming at the window jerking them awake in a panic.
Fuuta yelled from outside, his claws raking against the glass with a horrible sound. His ginger fur was damp and streaked with mud.
After a moment of returning their heart rate to normal, Es’ temper flared. “Stupid cat! The hell are you doing?”
They approached the window, contemplating how to make him leave. That’s when they noticed patches of dark red mingling with the mud. He wailed again, leaving a smudge of blood as he pawed at the glass.
Es glanced toward their bedroom door. No one else had woken. They looked back at the cat. Fuuta headbutt the window weakly.
Es inhaled. They grit their teeth. “This is a terrible idea,” they made sure to remind themself. Then they pulled the sash up, letting in a gust of chilly night air.
Fuuta crawled inside, still yowling. They tried to hush him, but only earned a defensive stance and fluffed tail. He avoided them, taking a wide circle around to the dark crevice between their desk and closet. He curled up inside, finally quieting down.
Es crouched beside the hiding place. They flicked on their lamp, trying to pinpoint Fuuta’s injuries. His little body heaved with struggled breaths. Blood matted around a gash over his right eye. It could have been a cat fight, but the claw mark down his face seemed more akin to a dog. Leave it to Fuuta to pick a fight with something so much bigger…
They immediately felt bad for the thought, seeing the way he shivered through the cold and pain. Their hand instinctively reached out to him, then withdrew. As stupid as it was to let a feral cat into their bedroom in the dead of night, Es wasn’t stupid enough to get themself scratched up by trying to treat his injuries.
Instead, they crept to the kitchen, pouring a dish of water and scavenging foods that were cat friendly. They didn’t have any quilts around this time of the season, so they rummaged through their closet to find a flowing cape. They laid the food in front of Fuuta and the makeshift blanket over him.
“I’m sorry,” they whispered. They sat beside the desk, bringing their knees to their chest. This was their fault – if they hadn’t shooed him away, if they’d let him stay on their front steps instead of wandering the streets, he wouldn’t have gotten so hurt. “I’m sorry…”
Every so often they bent down to check on Fuuta’s sleeping form. Seeing his sides rise and fall, even weakly, they sighed in relief. At some point between their monitoring, they dosed off against the wall.
When they woke the next morning, Fuuta was gone. In their half-asleep recklessness, they’d left the window open. Droplets of blood and mud speckled the route between them and the exit.
“You’re welcome,” they sighed, though there wasn’t as much bitterness in the words as intended. As hard as they tried to focus on their daily activities, Es couldn’t help but think about Fuuta. He was in a bad shape already, and wouldn’t last if he got into another fight. Each day that he was absent, their stomach churned with guilt and worry.
It wasn’t until a few days later, when they were back chewing halfheartedly from the front step, that he appeared next. Fuuta approached uncharacteristically silently, causing Es to flinch when he emerged at their side.
“Jeez.” Their gaze softened. “You scared me…”
Fuuta replied with a gentle meow, rubbing his head down their leg. As quiet as he was, his breathing looked normal again. His ratty appearance wasn’t on deaths door, at least. The injured eye was crusted over, but more clean that it had been last time.
They prepared themself for another delicate dance of avoiding his teeth. Instead, the cat flicked his tail and jumped right onto their lap. He padded in a circle, settling into a round heap of fur.
Es gaped. They lifted their hand. Carefully, and with a wince, they placed it down on Fuuta’s back. He let out a single, defiant noise, but didn’t move.
Their fingers pet down the orange fur, softer than they would have expected from his otherwise disheveled appearance. It took a mere minute for him to erupt into purring. His ears twitched happily as they scratched behind each. His paws began to wildly knead at their legs, lost in bliss.
“Was that so hard?” Es chuckled. They would have happily done this during their first encounter. At least they had the chance, now.
The sun set in a wave of vibrant colors. Es and Fuuta both took bites from their dinner. The night cooled around the pair.
At last, the breeze became too cold to bear. Es was forced to nudge the cat from their legs. It earned them a one-eyed glare as they stood and stretched their legs.
“Don’t give me that face, it’s late. Time to turn in.” They gazed back toward their home. Their parents were still out. When they opened the door, it was dark and silent inside. Their voice dropped. “You should go home, too.”
Fuuta meowed in agreement, then wove between Es’s legs to enter.
Now that we know Kazui's case is highly likely to be the first chronologically, imagine him getting Myosotis memories and trying to stop everyone's murders from happening.
Starting with Haruka, who is only one year away.
The idea of one of the prisoners shouldering all the grief and trauma onto themselves so that the others can be free from it..... owww.... They can’t save the very first victim, but they can save the many that follow. I have a version with Kazui that I drafted when this was sent, but then the second section is an unrelated scene with the new knowledge that Amane was actually the first one ;---; (I also wonder if Kazui would reach out to Shidou first since he doesn’t know when the organ donations started, but that was less fun than having him visit Haruka lol)
“Good day, officer. Can I help you?”
Kazui clamped his jaw shut as the woman answered the door. He couldn’t reveal just how shocking her appearance was. Though she was a complete stranger, he couldn’t tear his gaze from her familiar eyes. They were round and blue, the kind you could just drown in. He’s seen that crinkle of confusion before. She looked exactly like her son.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Mukuhara Kazui. I’m with the Yokohama region police department.”
He hated framing this as official business – he should have been done lying about his identity. Still, he reminded himself that he was stopping crime, even if not mandated by the chief
“You’ve made quite a trek to get here,” she noted. “Is something wrong?”
“I was wondering if I could have a word with your son, Sakurai Haruka. It won’t be lo—”
“What did he do this time?” She flicked a glare over her shoulder. Her lips twisted into a scowl.
“N-nothing! He’s not in trouble or anything. He may have some information for a case we’re working on. He’ll be very helpful to me.”
“I see. You can come in.” She muttered, “but I wouldn’t get your hopes up about that.”
She led him into the house. Everything was ordinary, but Kazui gaped at if he’d stepped into a grand art gallery. They passed by his bedroom, and it took all his willpower not to linger in the doorway. No matter how much time he spent with Haruka, Milgram had always stripped a part of each prisoner away. Now, he was able to see everything. He knew exactly the toys Haruka enjoyed, and the art he chose for his walls, and the view from each window. He knew the color of the walls he grew up around, and the plants that grew alongside him. He knew what kind of couch had been home to the boy as he sat down.
The back door slammed, there was some shouting, and then Haruka appeared. He offered shaky greetings before sitting in an opposite seat.
Kazui had seen everyone at different stages of their lives, living normally. They all had pictures online: an extensive social media presence, a class photo, a congratulatory job posting, something. All but Haruka.
The boy looked nearly the same – Kazui was cutting it close with his timing – but it was still a shock seeing him look so ordinary for the first time. His lounging clothes would have looked comfortable if they weren’t pinched in ill-fitted spots. Dirt brushed across both knees, and a single blade of grass tucked in his hair. Though it was obvious, the thought of the boy being able to go outside and lie in the grass nearly broke his composure before they’d begun.
He coughed. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
Haruka only tensed more.
“My name is Mukuhara Kazui… Do you… do you remember me?”
He had no idea how to go about this conversation. Days of weighing the options still hadn’t brought him to any conclusion. Telling the boy he was a time-traveling murderer probably wouldn’t go over well. But if he lied, would Haruka trust him enough to change?
“Remember…? Um. N-no, I’m sorry. I have a bad memory. My brain is too-too stupid. I’m sorry.”
“No! No, I just...” He inhaled carefully. He was already screwing this up. “Do you… believe in supernatural things?”
“Like, um. Ghosts? Maybe? I, uh, I don’t really know…”
“Not specifically. The thing is. I know a little bit about the future.”
“Oh…?”
“You don’t have to believe me, or anything. I know it sounds crazy. I just want you to know… bad things are coming in the future. That’s why I’m here to help.”
Haruka squinted at him. “Bad things like ghosts?”
If he only knew the half of it.
“You’ve been lonely, right? Your mother has been spending less time with you?”
“I…” Haruka dropped it head. “It’s my own fault.”
“It isn’t. But it still hurts, right?”
The boy paused, unsure of what the correct answer was. His face remained guarded as he watched Kazui speak.
“I can help with that. I know a lot of people who would love to spend time with you. Teachers, counselors, friends. I’m going to bring them here, and introduce you to them.”
The boy chewed on his fingernail, awe fighting with his previous suspicion.
“They’re very nice people, I’m sure you’ll like them. But… I wanted to speak with you first. If anything isn’t working, if your mother is making things difficult, or if one of those people isn’t good for you, you can tell me, okay? You can tell someone. Don’t keep it to yourself. Keeping it to yourself will only make things hurt more. I… I know that for sure. No secrets, no lies.”
Was that too much? Did he sound crazy? Should he have left out the part about knowing the future altogether? Was he only projecting? What if he’d only made things worse? Panic whirled inside of him until Haruka began to nod.
It was a subtle gesture, then a grin spread across his cheeks. His hands wrung, but this time out of excitement. “Are you sure?” he asked. “All those p-people… here for me…? And mama! Um, it will make mama like me again?”
Kazui winced. “Well, I can’t guarantee anything about her feelings. Love… love isn’t a thing to be forced.”
He placed a hand on Haruka’s shoulder. The boy beamed up at him, unaware of the pain in his previous statement. He would be unaware of a lot of pain, going forward, much to Kazui’s relief.
“But I promise you’ll have love everywhere you turn. I promise, everything is about to change.”
--------
Brrrrrring.
“I’ll get it.” Hinako hurried to the phone. She didn’t recognize the number calling. “Hello, Mukuhara residence.”
Kazui stood just after her, taking both their dinner plates to the kitchen.
There was a pause on the other end. A young girl spoke. “O-oh. Mukuhara-san?”
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“I… um…”
Hinako frowned. It was never a good sign when a child called an off-duty officer with so much nervousness in their voice. “Is everything alright there?”
“Y-yes. It’s nice to hear you’re well.”
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
“No. I am a friend of your husband’s. May I speak with him?”
Hinako’s concern melted with a smile. Kazui had likely visited her elementary school or program for some event – it was sweet he made a big enough impact that she saw him as a friend, and spoke of Hinako’s health so politely.
“Of course.” She pressed the receiver to her chest. “It’s for you.”
Just before she passed it over, the girl said, “thank you ma’am. May God bless you.”
Hinako ran the faucet as Kazui offered his greetings.
“Yes, I’m… Pardon? … How did you…? … What did you say your name was?”
He received a pointed look from his wife. The girl was so polite; surely she couldn’t have earned his harsh tone.
“Slow down. I don’t understand. … Well, no, but … What? No! How –!”
Hinako looked away from the dished when Kazui’s breath caught in a choked, distressed sound.
His eyes flicked frantically to her. His face had gone entirely pale. He stepped away from her, towards the front door.
“Is everything alright?” She whispered. Maybe her initial instincts had been correct. She was ready to head out, too. “Is she safe?”
He nodded weakly. “Yes. H-hold on…” He waved her back, even as he fumbled with the apartment door. “This will be just a minute.”
Hinako’s gaze followed him until the door shut. She didn’t mind that the conversation be taken in private, but his refusal to say anything was strange. She twisted her sponge anxiously. It wasn’t like her husband to keep secrets.
~
Kazui returned a little later. Though his eyes were still haunted, he wasn’t rushing into action or emotion. He simply wrapped Hinako in an embrace. His hold was solid and warm, as if he never planned on letting go.
“Kazui, honey,” she leaned into the hug. “What happened? Who was that girl?”
With his face still pressed desperately into her hair, he let out a strange laugh – the kind of relieved release after some grand ordeal or close call.
“I think… it might have been your guardian angel….”
Imagine if dead prisoners are alive in real world with no memory of milgram, what occurred nor the people they met so imagine when the alive prisoners had es are out of milgram and in real world they spot Haruka mahiru Shidou seemingly leading betters paths but not remembering who the prisoners are nor milgram
Oooh I love that ;-; The benefit of living a more peaceful life, but at the cost of not remembering the first people who were willing to reach a hand to forgive them…
It would break Muu’s heart that Haruka went from killing himself for her protection to not recognizing her at all. Though she’s hurt by it, she’s determined to find their old friendship. She’d try to explain everything that happened, even if Haruka never truly believed the wild tale.
Kazui would hesitate to intrude on Shidou’s peaceful new life, but would show up with flowers or some kind of condolence gift for his family. Amane would also send something mysterious and vaguely apologetic, but I don’t know if she’d actually go and visit for several years. Meanwhile, Kazui keeps things vague, not trying to force any kind of connection, but Shidou would be grateful for the shoulder to lean on. Over time, the two would rekindle their friendship with Milgram never coming up.
As for Mahiru, Yuno is shocked when she rushes up to her and realizes she doesn’t remember anything. Mahiru thinks it was just a bizarre misunderstanding and is content becoming friends anyway. Yuno may try to broach the subject of Milgram once more, picking her brain about her boyfriend and verdicts, but once it’s clear it was more distressing than memory-jogging, Yuno vows to keep that pain secret from her.
Now, I did have a drama-03-06 idea with this exact premise hehe. I’ve had this fic idea in my head for months now, so this was my excuse to finally get it down on paper >:3 (This scene is the main conflict, but I promise it has a happy ending in my mind lol.)
Mahiru took a deep inhale as she watered the fragrant flowers in front of the shop. It was a beautiful spring day, the kind that felt like your troubles would float away in the warm breeze. She hummed as she moved across the vibrant display. Her coworker returned a wave from the other side of the shop window. Pedestrians greeted her as they passed by, each brightening her day with a smile.
That is, until he showed up.
“Mahiru?”
A man around her age stopped dead a few feet away.
“O-oh?” She put the watering can down. “Can I help you?”
“It’s you! You’re alright!”
Mahiru had always been praised for her excellent memory, never forgetting a face or a name. Unfortunately, she could recall neither that belonged to this young man. He had wild red hair, and she got a view of his crooked teeth as he continued gaping at her. His grey eyes overflowed with emotion.
“I’m sorry…” She offered a beaming smile and a bow. It was sweet to meet someone so happy to see her, but she wouldn’t lead him astray. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
“No, no it’s you! Don’t you know me? It’s Fuuta!”
“I hope you find who you’re looking for~”
“It’s you! I swear, I know you! My, god, I can’t believe you’re alive!” He leapt forward, crushing her in an embrace.
Her smile melted into a pitying wince. While she dreamed about meet-cutes and shop-side hugs, it felt different when the other party wasn’t fully sane. “I – I mean it! There are a lot of Mahiru’s in the city, you know…”
“But only one Shiina Mahiru, born in Ashiya, only child.” He had pulled back, but kept his hands on her shoulders as he took her appearance in. She didn’t like the way his gaze flicked over her body, from her eyes all the way down to her feet.
“Your birthday is January 17, you’re blood type… uh… was it B? You studied literature at an all-girl’s school. You met your boyfriend at a convenience store, where he worked. Don’t you see?”
She shifted uncomfortably, but he did not let go. Was he someone who’d known her lover? Or just some stalker that overheard her case on the news a year ago? Mahiru glanced over to the shop window to catch her coworker’s eye.
The strange man paid no mind to the distress written across her face. He started listing off even more specifics – the dramas she liked to watch, the magazines she read. He recounted novels that she kept hidden under her bed, and opinions she’d only ever written in her diary. Her breath quickened.
“See? I know everything about you!”
He pulled her a little closer. His iron grip and wild eyes made her squeal. “And I know what you did. I know about your boyfriend. I know—”
“Get away from me!” She yanked herself free. Her cry caused some on the street to stop and stare.
“N-no! It’s not like that.” The man waved his hands to hush her. His eyes darted around before pinning her under that violating stare once more. “I killed someone too.”
She took a shaking step backwards. He followed. She flinched as he let out a crazed laugh.
“I can’t believe I found you! It’s a miracle!” He leaned forward, his arm reaching for hers.
Mahiru took a big stride away, her foot catching on one of the flowerpots. She tumbled onto the concrete, paralyzed by the shooting pain and panic. She could only stare up as the murderer reached out towards her.
He was yanked backwards. Two policemen grabbed under his arms to pull him away.
“Hey! The hell do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off me!”
Her coworker hurried out of the shop. “Are you okay?”
Mahiru simply clung to the woman’s arm after she helped her to her feet. The stalker – the murderer – was led a few feet back.
“Ma’am, do you know this gentleman?”
“She does! It’s me, Fuuta!”
Mahiru shook her head frantically. “I don’t. But… He knows about me… I don’t… I never…”
“That’s alright. We’ll take your number, and contact you when we need.”
“You don’t understand! She was dead! She died!”
His voice was rough and shrill as he shouted more nonsense. Mahiru wanted to curl up in on herself.
The crazed man was moved into the police car. He craned his neck to meet her eyes one last time. His words made her blood run cold.
“I’ll find you again, just you wait! I swear it! Mahiru!”
[In my mind, Fuuta calls Kazui from jail and he tells the others that the trio is alright. Yuno meets up with Mahiru and is much more tactful/keeps her emotions under control. She’s able to get through a little to her, and they have a genuinely sweet reunion. (I don’t know Japan law but in my head if Mahiru never presses charges, they can have Fuuta’s potential stalking stuff dropped.) Mahiru is hesitant around him for a bit, but seeing everyone’s teary reaction to her alive and well, she begins to understand and feel grateful for all their love <3]
Once again you get bombarded by Switch AU stuff yay
Anyways, i wanna talk about Jackalope and Es here as i decided to switch them too.
Jackalope, at the start, doesn't actually take the job too seriously. To him its basically a game, cut and dry, interview them, watch a video and make a judgement (that's not his own). Despite this hes, funnily enough, nicer in a way than canon Es. Even if hes being a little shit even from the start he talks to them more as people than prisoners, he pushes buttons and makes jokes and hes less intimidating overall. Towards the end of trial one he starts realising that this is serious a bit so hes less ragebaity but still annoying. Then trial two it hits that this is SERIOUS and hes very much wearing his heart on his sleeve, hes crazy stressed over the attacks and its obvious. He no longer wants to do this job, he wants to get everyone out and doesn't like this. At all.
Meanwhile, Es keeps the professionalism we see in canon but 10x worse, theyre disconnected. Judgement will be given no matter the consequences. They're still annoyed by Jackalope but now due to the fact hes such an emotional warden. Especially in later trials when Jackalope keeps begging them to stop Milgram and let everyone go, that this isn't safe. Milgram must be seen to its end after all.
Oooh, I really love that it’s more about the free emotions – he can be a ragebaiting tween asdfds, but he’s also just a kid thrown into an unbelievable situation. As soon as he realizes how real the consequences are, he’d be thrown into other emotions: regret/grief, but also anger (“that’s not what that verdict meant, why the hell would you react like that?”), and joy over the prisoners who did thrive. Then Es getting detached even from their fellow warden because they’re refusing to engage with anything except professionalism…. There’s a lot of good angst potential but I couldn't help myself from a fully silly drabble hehe~
“Can you please focus,” Es grumbled.
“I’m totally focused.”
“You’re shaking your ass.”
“And?”
Jackalope continued doing just that. Es sat atop the desk, strewn with notes and doodles and games. Their tail twitched in exasperation. “There are better ways to process the trial songs.”
“Are there, though?” The warden made a circle around his chair, picking up Es’ paws to dance together. The keys around his neck jingled as he rocked back and forth. “I think you really need to feel the music…”
Es snatched their arms back. “I would much rather you feel it in your brain instead of everywhere else.”
“I’ve given it plenty of serious thought! But sometimes you need to trust your emotion, your intuition.”
“Do you care to share any of those serious thoughts?”
“Oh, sure.” Jackalope shrugged, then listed off ten verdicts.
“Eh? You already chose for everyone?” Es’s fur bristled. “You haven’t even held all the interrogations!”
“They’re subject to change, of course. But you said I can judge for whatever reason I want, right? Well, I got my feelings about everyone. I can already tell you that number eight is a load of trouble, just like I can say number six gave us gold and could never have done anything wrong~” He struck a pose just as her song ended.
The songs looped back to the first prisoner’s. “I suppose he did a decent job with this one… The kid kinda of gives me the willies, though…”
“You realize they didn’t write these songs themselves, correct?”
“Oi, I’m not stupid!”
He paused his dancing, much to Es' relief. His gaze filled with passion. Confidence. He placed a hand on his chest, over the silken runed sash, and felt his pulse race from the exertion.
“You said to follow my heart. To throw myself into human connection. To let emotion come before law. To listen, to understand, and to relish in the process. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“…I see.”
“You should try this sometime.”
“What,” they deadpanned, “lean into my human side?”
Jackalope twirled on beat. “Experience fun.”
“Tch.” They hopped gracefully onto the floor. “Scrambling around the room like that is the last thing I’d describe as fun.”
“Oh? What does a mythical rabbit get up to for leisure, then?”
“I… Well…” They paused on their way to the door. “I don’t have time for anything like that. I have my duties here, as do you.”
“Yeah, but everybody has stuff they do for fun.”
Es was silent as they hopped away. Jackalope crossed the room quickly, cutting them off from the exit. “Nothing at all??” He placed his hands firmly on his hips. “That’s going to change, immediately. You’re coming to spa night tonight.”
They recoiled. “With the prisoners?”
“It’s not like they’re contagious, jeez.”
After a beat of silence, they muttered, “it’s dangerous to get so attached.” Then they tried to scoot past him. “Now. As I said, I’m very busy. If you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to. This is a prison, after all.”
“Come on, we have plenty of time for that later!” The Warden's pout melted into a smirk as he added, “plus, it wouldn’t hurt to take the night off from the kitchen. I could give it a whirl, eh?”
“Just what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything.”
Jackalope scooped Es from ground. On a crescendo of music, he raised them into the air with a bright laugh.
What if Fuuta had died instead of Mahiru? How would it have come to that, and how would it affect the state of the prison?
Aughh… possibilities that make me insane… Thank you for the prompt, hehe…
TW for discussions of death/grief
While I think there are plenty of ways Fuuta could have died T3 (worsening suicidal thoughts, getting into a fight with 09/10 while injured, going against Amane’s beliefs as much as Shidou), I think the best way to keep the rest of the story accurate would be like this: Shidou starts healing both victims after Kotoko’s attack, but Fuuta starts hanging out with Amane before he can help too much. He ends up spending more time with Mahiru, and is able to get her to a point where she’s weak, but not worsening. Fuuta, having thrown away medicine with Amane, is actively getting worse as his injuries get infected. Once Amane kills Shidou, there’s no one to pick up on signs of infection and take action. While Mahiru continues on the upswing, Fuuta succumbs to his fever.
Though Yuno’s development would be different, I still think Mahiru would have a big impact on her without her actually dying. Life may actually be more hopeful – “I wanted to die before, and still feel incredibly guilty because I was careless with the one thing Mahiru wanted, but we’ll have each other to lean on as we choose to live and find our connections going forward.” Just because she doesn’t cut her hair and act super depressed won’t mean she’s not deeply changed and is willing to speak more grounded with Es.
I think Kazui would get hit with even more angst of uselessness – he already feels guilty about not protecting the ones who died, but there’s something extra painful that the one prisoner he did manage to save died anyway. In his mind, the one good thing he managed to do in prison was undone (also by his negligence). I like to imagine he’d really throw himself into caring for Mahiru as atonement (which Fuuta was too independent to give him the same option in canon), but it’s just as likely that he’ll shut down and isolate himself further…
Even surviving, Mahiru would have it pretty bad, going through a huuuge Love Disillusionment. She would have survivor’s guilt that Fuuta died from his attack wounds but not her. She would understand that Shidou died because he was helping to heal her – his love for her got him killed, just like her bf. Haruka’s situation would remind her of her case as well – a boy who killed himself because of unhealthy love for a girl. I can’t see her rejecting love outright, but she’d have such a significant shift in her worldview, and it would not feel good.
All in all, Amane would have it the worst :( Rather than Fuuta getting his “divine punishment” for going against her, she would be haunted by the fact that he did everything right and still died a painful death. That on its own could kick start her realization that her abuse, too, wasn’t for any logical reason, and she doesn’t need to keep justifying it. The main problem is she’d be left wholly alone. As much as Mahiru would be sympathetic to her, she’s too weak to help much, and Amane would still be avoiding her because of her use of medicine. With no one else willing to humor her religious side, she wouldn’t have anyone there to lean on while she came to terms with her abuse and the blood on her hands. She has to get up every day knowing she killed the one person who was willing to save her…
Thinking about LCSYS some more... A key part of Milgram's T3 is that prisoners have been shaken to their core and changed by the deaths. So how could this be incorporated into LCSYS? Is there some way to make the prisoners believe that their fellow prisoners have died?
I knowwww I didn’t expect them to do mid-trial deaths !! Their growth would be at such different paces now ough…
While it might not be feasible to convince the participants the others died (they either wouldn’t believe it since there’s already so much fake death going around, or would believe it too hard and refuse to continue the trials thinking they need to make funeral arrangements and everything,) I think the closest they can get is a locked-down separation 👀
At some point mid-hiatus, completely out of the blue, Jackalope announces they’re cutting contact. The dead trio is secluded in one wing of the facility, neither group allowed any information or communication with the other. Even though they were aware of the story, the prisoners wouldn’t be prepared for the sudden separation. They’d probably still worry about one another’s health and well-being with Jackalope unable to confirm even “they’re healthy/they’re fine.”
Knowing it’ll be weeks (if not months) until they can see the trio again, the group is plagued with the things they realized too late. Muu starts to notice all the empty spaces Haruka has left, and her excitement at their bond falls. She worries Haruka will be thinking he’s better off gone for all that time, and she can’t tell him how wrong he is. Yuno had come to terms with her admiration of Mahiru, but as soon as they cannot talk, she realizes she’s never once mentioned it to the woman. Amane, too, sees firsthand the gaping hole that Shidou and Mahiru leave, and doubts she rid the world of sinners. She suddenly yearns to have a more civil conversation about the medical treatment. (Same goes for Kotoko’s potential guilt over Mahiru’s death.)
And in all these cases, I think the different situation would help the prisoners come to the same conclusions. Under the torment of verdicts and voices, the canon characters needed a sudden death to snap them out of their old mindset. In this au, however, they have so much extra time to develop friendships and open lines of communication and support. I know it’s not guaranteed to make them all friends like I usually write haha, but I think the opportunity for calm conversation without life-or-death consequences would allow them to very similar self-discoveries.
