#dsc 999

[futurecreated]

Next Level

@geimaa

     The box’s weight strains against my fingers as they cling to it.  Just a few more steps and... there.  Setting it beside the handful of other equally heavy cardboard cubes we lugged in here already, all of our worldly possessions are safely together in one place.  It’s... honestly kind of depressing to think about how easily our lives can be packed up and moved at a moment’s notice.

     ...And on that cheerful note, I’d say Nanami and I are officially moved in.

     Why we are requires some explaining.  To sum up, Enoshima’s in the wind, the Kuzuryuu were robbed of an heir and their best hitter, and the school will have to hemorrhage cash between PR work and campus renovations.  Culpability for all that falling on either or both of us depending, we have some pretty large targets painted on our backs.  With no shortage of people who want us dead, our country’s total lack of a witness protection program left us in a dangerous position.  Thankfully, the Library stepped in.   My employers secured an apartment for us not far from the office and honestly, this place is pretty nice.  It’s tough to finding a comfortable place to live in Tokyo, let alone one with a separate bedroom, bath, and kitchen, but somehow they pulled it off.  Guess the impossible does come easier when you’ve got dirt on half the people in the city.

     After a solid week of living in an office, it’s difficult to put into words how refreshing it is to be in a proper living space.  Seems like Nanami shares the sentiment, seeing as she’s already flopped onto couch with portable in hand.  I scoot her feet off the end cushion before flipping on the television across from us.  The news ticker scrolls endlessly as a woman in too thickly applied makeup talks through the details of the incident at the school for what I can only assume is the umpteenth time today.  Flicking it back off with a sigh, I decide to bite the bullet and begin addressing the elephant in the room.

      “Hey,” I say, attempting to draw her attention away from the device in her hands.  “What do you think of the place?  I know we still have to unpack and everything, but I think we can make this work.  You?”

[futurecreated]

Lessons for the Mysterious

@tantkill

     The faculty office looms over me like an obelisk containing some unknowable power.  That's what it is for me, a headfirst dive into the abyss, my one and only chance of becoming something more than nothing at all.  Even now though, what that something could be sends a chill down my spine.

     This is it.  This is where everything will be decided.  Here and now, I have to decide whether or not I'll keep on living as Hinata Hajime.  As eager as I've been to properly attend Hope's Peak, as hopeful as I've been to become one of the elites I've admired for so long, as desperate as I've been to finally acquire a talent that I could be proud of, there's a fear lingering within me that I just can't shake.  It's with trembling legs that I collapse onto a bench across from the building, it's reflective windows staring down at me like sets of too many inhuman eyes.

     To begin with, my being here is an irregularity.  My parents aren't the most well off of people.  They can pay their bills on time, but affording the tuition necessary to enroll me in the Reserve Course would be patently ridiculous.  Just like me, my family is so average it's almost a curse.  The only reason I'm on this campus at all was because I was scouted by the school, but not like you'd hope.  I was so obsessed with Hope's Peak, so consumed with being someone special, that I managed to catch their eye, not as a talented elite, but as a guinea pig.

     The Ultimate Hope Project, that's why I'm here.  Hope's Peak High School was founded with the intent of cultivating talent in young people, to create hope for the future.  After nearly eighty years of success on that front, they decided it wasn't enough to foster existing talent in young people.  To truly achieve the vision of their founder, Kamukura Izuru, they would need to create talent within someone who had no talent themselves.  Who better to be the subject of such an endeavor than an ordinary boy completely consumed with becoming special himself?  This is my one chance to become someone extraordinary, to cast off the damnable mediocrity that's plagued me my entire life.  The only problem is, I'm not sure what awaits me beyond this experiment will be any better.

     It's hardly been a week since Kuzuryuu was killed and Satou not long after her.  Even after such a short amount of time, everyone here is trying to pretend nothing's happened.  The faculty, the staff, even my own classmates are just ignoring the fact that two girls we saw on a daily basis are dead now.  Of course, I'm not sure why I should even feign surprise.  They were only Reserve Course students, after all.  That guard made it painfully clear to me our lives mean nothing.   As far as Hope's Peak is concerned, the only real loss is their tuition, money I imagine pays for the experiments they intend to perform on me.

     And so here I sit, as anger, guilt, and the terror of the unknown churns in my gut. I've been presented with a binary choice.  If I choose to go through with the project, odds are who I am will be nothing but a distant memory forgotten by the world.  Hinata Hajime will cease to be, shut down in the place of something wholly new.  If I reject their offer, assuming they even let me live, my boring, untalented existence will continue on, but I'll have to leave Hope's Peak forever.  Even I could somehow stay in the Reserve Course, it wouldn't change a thing.  Regardless of what I do, she's going to graduate from here and whether she means to or not, I'll eventually be left behind.  That's the future that's been decided for me.  No matter what happens, I'll never be able to hold my head up high alongside her.

     I feel the color drain from my face and my hands clutch the sides of my head.  My teeth gnash against each other as I screw my eyes shut and desperately deny the reality before me.  I don't have any talent.  I don't have any hope.  Becoming someone different, staying as am I, neither will change the future that awaits me, a future filled with despair.

     Why… Why do I have to choose!?  If what she said was true, if I can go anywhere and do anything, then why can't I create a future for myself?!

     Raising my despair-filled gaze up, I see something I could have never predicted.  Striding out from the faculty office on heels that announce her presence is a figure only as definite as unknown she represents.  Lavender eyes stare back at me from beneath flowing lilac locks and I can't figure out who saw who first.  Dark leathers cover her simple mode of dress, including an eye-catching pair of studded leather gloves.  Any details that might shed light on her identity are either not visible or nonexistent.  Her face is like a porcelain mask, stoic and guarded, and her eyes display no emotion within them.  Whoever this girl is…  Well, that's just the question.  She's an enigma, an unknown…  She's a mystery.

     Noticing the growing awkwardness of our wordless exchange, I clear my throat, straighten my tie, and stand up to speak with her.  "Excuse me.  Is there something I can help you with?"

     In the back of my mind, there's a singular question beyond her identity, beyond her reason for being here, and beyond what impact this might have on my hopeless future.  With the scene around us, I can't help but think it.  Is this what you’d call a fateful encounter?

[futurecreated]

Line of Action

@2dyllic

     Water falls from the stone pillar in the basin’s center, cascading down in a beautiful wall before being cycled back into the structure’s inner workings to be expelled once more.  The endless rush of the fountain has become as soothing to me as the quiet creak of the wooden slats beneath me.  It was just a coincidence at first, but I’ve found myself coming here more and more the longer my time at Hope’s Peak goes on.  Aside from this being more or less the designated meeting place for Nanami and I, it’s become something of a hideout for me, especially since I started my investigation.  I come here whenever I need to clear my head and figure out what my next move should be, as is the case at the moment.

     As things stand, I’m at an impasse.  Ever since the new class arrived, my progress with the case has slowed to a halt.  Thanks to Koizumi’s photos, I have the evidence I need to prove Kuzuryuu was murdered by a fellow student, but it’s still not enough.  Without more evidence, I can’t prove the school obfuscated the cause of her death and I’m still dead in the water with Satou.  They cleaned up the scene of the crime before her body was even cold.  The only record of it left is probably locked away in the school’s private network and I still have no way of breaking into it.  If I don’t find something actionable soon, I’m a dead man.

     There’s not much time left.  I managed to push the deadline back with the old man’s help, but even that extension is running out.  Even if I refuse, there’s no way they’ll let me walk away from this, not while I know about the Project.  I’m playing a dangerous game here with my life as the wager.  Unless I can solve this mystery, Hinata Hajime will cease to exist.

     Come on, damn it.  Think!  There’s got to be something I’m missing here, some dirt the school overlooked.  As powerful as Hope’s Peak is, I can’t be the only dark secret it’s hiding!

     As I wrack my brain for the solution still out of my reach, a sudden sight captures my attention.  Walking the grounds seemingly doing his utmost not to draw attention to himself, I see a decidedly slight-looking young man.  His hair is nearly as pale as his unhealthy complexion, contrasting sharply against the earthy tone of his suit.

     Wait a minute.  That’s a Main Course uniform.  He’s an elite!  As someone, well... obsessed with this school, I know every last elite on campus, but I’ve never seen him in my life.

     So the question is, who the hell is he?

     “Hey!”  I call out to the unknown elite as I bolt to my feet and begin rapidly walking towards him.  “Hey, hold on a second!”

     A new Super High School Level doesn’t just appear out of thin air.  This isn’t a mystery I can afford to leave unsolved.  Whoever this guy is, I’m not going to stop until I find out.

[futurecreated]

To Survive

@kibouzuru

     I drape a blanket over the unconscious gamer collapsed on the sofa before stepping out of the office and back into the chaos of the Detective Library’s main office.  The chaotic chatter roaring from the sea of suited individuals furiously attempting to manage the crisis from their desks is quick to clue me in as to what I’ve missed.  Apparently in the time our little heart to heart took, they started ferrying over some of the elites to us.  As much as I’d like to touch base with my friends in Nanami’s class, I’ve got a job to do.  Class 78 will have to come first.

     As I basically broke the word on the attack today, my superiors had no choice but to listen to me for information on what was going on inside the school.  In the debriefing, I managed to negotiate, in addition to my full membership, getting first crack at the elites.  My latent guilt due to benefiting from this tragedy aside, it’s difficult to express the satisfaction I feel holding all the cards for once.

     After a few minutes of helping out where I can in this organizational nightmare, a stern-looking man in glasses grabs my attention and leads me back to the interviewing rooms.  Preparing myself for the imminent interrogation, my gaze shifts back and forth from the file in my hands to the young man seated at the table on the other side of the glass, Naegi Makoto, the latest winner of the Super High School Level Luck lottery.  I did my homework on him during my investigation and suffice it to say, there wasn’t much to find.  This might be a case of the pot calling the kettle black but, he’s a startlingly average teenage boy, even as far as the usually mundane lottery winners go.  Well, I say that, but last year’s got put on suspension for trying to blow up the goddamned gym.  Honestly, Nanami was in enough danger before this gyaru chick entered the picture.

     Satisfied with my review, I close the file, tuck it under my arm, and head in.  The younger man’s head turns to me as I open the door and I offer him a courteous nod.  “Naegi-san.  I don’t know if you recognize me, but I want to clear this up now,” I say, taking a seat across from him.  “My name is Hinata Hajime.  For the past few months, I’ve been investigating Hope’s Peak’s undercover as a Reserve Course student.  It was during the course of my investigation that I was made aware of the conspiracy that was put into action today.”  That’s lacking a number of pertinent details, but I doubt that matters to him much at this point.

     If you want to be precise about it, I learned about that girl’s plans approximately ten hours ago.  It’s been a busy ten hours.  I’m handling the situation better than I should because I’ve grown admittedly numb to this particular brand of horror.  Between my murdered classmates and what I saw in that video, it’d be hard not to.  Naegi on the other hand?  I can’t imagine how he must feel.  Nanami and I got out of the school right before everything went completely to hell.  Him and of his classmates were in the thick of it.  Of course, that’s the problem.

     “I apologize for putting you in this position so recently after the trauma you’ve suffered, but I’m going to have to ask you a few questions before we can release you.  Our hope is that any information you and your classmates can share with us might prevent further loss of life.  If there’s anything I can do to make this process easier on you, know I won’t hesitate to have it done.”

     While the students of class 78 were eventually rescued, not all of them are accounted for.  Two students remain missing and first responders on the scene are already beginning to report evidence of their deaths.  Ordinarily, that much might be believable.  Two teenage girls could have easily fallen victim to the carnage today.  The problem is, they were the Super High School Level Soldier and the Super High School Level Gyaru.

     “Now, whenever you feel ready, there are two things I need from you.  First, I need you to walk me through everything that happened today.”  I close my eyes for a moment and exhale slowly.  For his sake and mine, I need to stay calm here.  This is where it all begins.  “Second, I need you to tell me everything you know about Ikusaba Mukuro and Enoshima Junko.”

     This is the first step in stopping Super High School Level Despair.

[futurecreated]

Revival

@veritaphobic

     The dim glow of my computer’s monitor stares back at me as my fingers tap rhythmically against the keys beneath them.  Hitting the enter key with a final slap, one report vanishes from my screen, only for a new one to take its place.  Chipping away at the mountain of digital paperwork I’ve been putting off is far from enjoyable, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter at the moment.  Pissing off the boss isn’t without consequence, though that certainly shouldn’t come as a shock.

     The final clacking stomp of her heel punctuated her frigid response. “The case is closed, Hinata-kun.  I told you to drop it.”

     She narrowed her lavender eyes at me from across her desk.  I should have been able to tell following the agency mandate regardless of her own feelings on the matter had clearly begun to wear on her nerves.  Anyone with a bit of common sense could have told you she was at a point where she was no longer willing to entertain any form of counter-argument.  However, after the day I had, I was fresh out of common sense and social grace.

     “Don’t give me that, Kirigiri.  You know the higher ups are burying their heads in the sand on this.  She’s still out there and if we sit around and do nothing-”

     A single gloved hand slammed down onto the desk now and she leaned over it.  That was a new level of intensity from her.  Forget common sense.  My basic self-preservation instincts should have been enough to tell me pushing any further was a catastrophically bad idea.

     “Detective, need I remind you that you are speaking to your direct superior?  I would ask that you keep your tone professional and refrain from making any disparaging remarks towards my deceased classmate.”

     Again, I wasn’t quite in possession of my usual mental fortitude at the time.  A shitty day often leaves you with pretty shitty decision making abilities.  In retrospect, I can safely say this one of the most shitty decisions I’ve made.

     “Is that why you’re being so bullheaded about this?  Are you really that sore over the fact that some random nobody found the psychopath hiding in your classroom before you could?”  That was the chip on my shoulder talking.  The next part was where I really crossed a line.  “Or are you just not invested anymore?  After all, now that you’ve gotten back at dear old Dad, who cares how many more innocent people die?!”

     The bruise on my cheek is mostly healed now, but I walked out of the building with a red mark in the shape of a studded leather glove on my face.  Before I did, I was curtly informed me I was up for a ranking review and that I should count myself lucky I wasn’t being dismissed entirely.  Starting today, I have a new partner who will be conducting an evaluation of my abilities as a detective to better determine my worth as an asset of the Detective Library.  Ordinarily, this might entail me moving up a rank, but at this point the best I can hope for is that I’m not fired the instant the new guy walks through the door.

     Speaking of, I’m mostly in the dark as to who my new partner is supposed to be.  The only thing I know for sure is that they had the front desk call me five minutes ago to let me know they were on the way.  Apparently the unfamiliarity is supposed to aid in the objectivity of the process, but I feel like brass is more interested in keeping me out of the loop than anything.  After spending the last few days attempting to deduce what expert gumshoe they were going to drop in my lap to completely discredit me, Nanami insisted I stop agonizing over it and put my energy into doing my best at work instead.  So, that’s what I’m doing now, filling out every extraneous form that’s been awaiting my digital signature and doing everything within my power to appear to be the by-the-book cop that I am so assuredly not.

     In that pursuit, it takes some effort not to leap out of my seat as I see the office door creak open out of the corner of my eye.  For someone to come around Division Nine this early, they must be here about a dead body or my new partner.  Either way, I’m the one they’re looking for.  With an aloof wave of my hand, I flag down the indistinct figure, feigning a continued focus on the documents in front of me.  It’s because of that I fail to see who they actually are, even as they approach my desk.

     “Welcome to Homicide.  I’m Hinata Hajime, Detective Shelf Collection 9-9-9.  I’m guessing you’re my new partner...”  Finally turning my chair sideways to face the new arrival, it hits me all at once.

     Contrary to the official statement on the incident at Hope’s Peak, I know without a doubt Enoshima Junko is still alive.  As long as she is, she won’t give up on this twisted plan of hers.  As Hope’s Peak prepares to reopen with a new class of naive wunderkids, she couldn’t be more perfectly poised to try again.  Odds are, some element of her Despair has already managed to infiltrate the school.  That’s what I’ve been forbidden from looking into.  That’s what’s put me in such hot water.  Even so, I’m not about to give up.  If there’s a traitor in Class 79, I’m going to find them before they can start their new semester of killing.

     Of course, that might prove difficult with one of them being put in charge of me.

     Standing at the side of my desk, his gaze from beneath his hat refusing to meet mine, I find myself face to face with the newest Super High School Level Detective.   “...Saihara Shuichi.”

[futurecreated]

A Fateful Encounter

@despuddle

     The fading light of the waning sunset stings my eyes as I glare into it all the same.  The rush of continually spilling water from the fountain calms my racing mind.  The bench beneath me is sturdy as ever.  I walked Nanami back to her dorm.  Now it’s time to go to work.

     Unfortunately, I’m running out of time.  It was a miracle Tengan was able to talk the board into pushing back the deadline, but I can’t count on him to save my ass again.  If I don’t find the evidence I need before the semester’s out, my brain’s getting frappe’d whether I like it or not.  The Project, the murders, Yukizome and Sakakura, and whatever’s going on with the rest of the Reserve Course; I’ve got to straighten it all out in my head.

     My involvement began with the Ultimate Hope Project.  The school scouted me based on my... well, obsession with the place.  Without the money to enroll in the Reserve Course or the talent to become an elite, my only chance to enter Hope’s Peak High School was to become the subject of human experimentation.

     I had half a school year to reconsider the decision, a chance to back out and leave the school for good.  The deadline was just on the horizon when Kuzuryuu Natsumi joined my class.  Formerly attending the same middle school, she and Satou, a friend of the Super High School Level Photographer and fellow Reserve Course student, had real bad blood between them.  The day after a particularly violent confrontation between the two of them, Natsumi was found dead in the school’s music room.  A few days later, Satou was killed as well.  Even without Koizumi’s evidence, the truth was obvious.  Satou murdered Natsumi and her brother, the Super High School Level Yakuza, had Satou killed in return.

     Despite this, the school covered up both deaths and bribed the police to cease all investigation.  When I tried to uncover the truth myself, I hit a brick wall; or rather, I was hit by one.  Sakakura Juuzou, current head of school security and former Super High School Level Boxer, was adamant I keep my nose out of it.  I was only spared a hospitalization due to the intervention of Yukizome Chisa, Nanami’s homeroom teacher and former Super High School Level Housekeeper.  The both of them being school alumni and working here now, it’s too coincidental to overlook.

     With so many mysteries staring me in the face, I couldn’t walk away from the school or turn a blind eye to it all and give myself to the Project.  Both of my choices were unacceptable, so I decided to make a new one.  I chose the Detective Library.

     A shadow is suddenly cast over me, drawing me out of my mental montage.  Looking up to find its source, I see a feminine figure standing in the sunlight’s path, an unreadable expression across her features as she stares at me.  Her eyes have locked onto me like she’s seen something that shouldn’t exist.  A moment later, I recognize her and wonder how I didn’t do so instantly.  She’s the Super High School Level Gyaru, member of the recently arrived class 78, Enoshima Junko.  There’s no denying she’s beautiful, but something in my gut tells me there’s more to her than that.  I don’t know why, but can’t shake the feeling this woman could absolutely destroy me if she wanted to.

     My words catch in my throat as this feeling of dread refuses to leave me.  Finally, I force myself to speak and attempt to address the tension in the air.  “Can I... help you with something?”

[futurecreated]

Bardo

@foolsdivinxtions

     A good detective is thorough in his investigation.  Every possible lead must be properly looked into before a case is closed.  While I believe that wholeheartedly, I have to wonder if there might be some exceptions to that.

     Suffice it to say, my investigation has met with some setbacks.  The other day, security found my bug in the board’s private server.  They killed the thing and have stepped up their patrol density yet again.  It’s not enough to stop me, but it is making things considerably less comfortable for my already frayed nerves.

    I find myself sneaking into the main course campus yet again with an entirely new objective in mind.  I’m desperate to have my fortune read.

     Yeah, I know.  Desperate is the operative term here.  In my defense, if there’s anywhere to seek out a divination, it’s at Hope’s Peak High School.  I hear they’ve got the world’s best clairvoyant here.  I also hear a lot of things about him, but I’m hoping they’re only hearsay as I look for him.

     True to his reputation, he’s not difficult to locate. I find him in the laundry room, sticking out like a sore thumb with his... honestly, I can’t find the words to accurately describe his hair.  There’s a lot of it though and I’m not sure how it’s staying like that.  He’s sitting by himself, his eyes closed while making a series of exaggerated hand motions around a crystal ball in his lap.  You win this round, stereotypes.

     I approach him, but he takes no notice of me.  Guess that’s to be expected of my less than commanding presence.  The direct route it is.

     I clear my throat before speaking to him.  “Excuse me, Hagakure-san?  I’m Nitoh Kousuke, the Super High School Level Archaeologist.”  Another new cover for my exceedingly plain features.  I wonder how necessary that is with this man who seems like he might forget my existence before I’ve even left.  “I’m set to head out for another expedition soon and was wondering if your third eye could help point me in the right direction.”

[futurecreated]

Backstab

@reginadesperatio

     Over the course of my investigation, I’ve been noticing some strange things.  For instance, in the usual din of conversation the other Reserve Course students are always carrying on, a certain name keeps coming up: Enoshina Junko.  Now, normally, I wouldn’t think twice about them discussing an elite student, especially one who invites as much attention on herself as the Super High School Level Gyaru.  The problem is that the staff has been throwing around her name as well.  Since I was able to bug the school’s classified network, I’ve seen the school board in particular discuss her frequently.

     If the guys who want to peel open my skull and frappe my brain are interested in her, she more than qualifies as suspicious.  This afternoon, I’ve decided to look into her myself.

     Fortunately, I come by the dormitories with Nanami enough the guards only give me stern glare as I walk by them to stairs.  I’m tempted to offer them a rude gesture, but I think better of it as I ascend the floors.  I reach the fourth floor quickly and recheck the student record I downloaded to my phone.  Her dorm’s supposed to be room 413.  ...I try not to consider the superstitious ramifications of that number and proceed along the hallway to the right door.  After checking the hallway for any to make sure I won’t be disturbed, I reach into my jacket to withdraw a pair of medical gloves and a pen.  The blue latex clings to my hands and ensures I won’t be leaving behind any fingerprints.  The pen front end slides off to reveal an electronic lockpick, another gadget the Library was kind enough to supply me with.  Inserting the device into the lock, it whirs and shifts for a minute until the door comes open with a satisfying click.  I return the fake pen to my jacket before cautiously moving inside.

     To be blunt, the decor is garish.  The worst crimes of her fashion subculture are on display, spitting in the face of all things elegant.  A red and pink color scheme dominates the room, bringing to mind a massive cavern of flesh and blood rather than a dormitory.  I pinch my nose in an attempt to better tolerate the heady scent of perfume that pervades through the space as I shut the door behind me and move further inside.  A stack of fashion magazines covers her crimson end table, each no doubt containing pictures of her.  Her neon pink vanity is lined with health and beauty products and its mirror reflects my phone’s light back at me.  The folding closet door is left ajar, leaving visible several gaudy outfits hanging inside.  Between the ugly bits of cloth however, something catches my eye.  In the back of the closet, there’s an edge of some kind.  Moving to the closet to examine it closer, I push the dresses out of the way to discover the edge is a panel built into the wall with no visible opening mechanism.

     As I press my gloved hand against the panel, trying to force it open, I hear a distant voice growing steadily louder.  The clack of heeled boots stops in front of the rooms door and I hear the metallic click of the door unlocking again.

     She’s back.

     Quickly shuffling inside the closet, I hide myself behind the curtain of silk.  The sound of the heels trotting through the room grows dangerously close as I hold my breath and hope I’m not discovered.