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dangans-ur-ronpas · 2 months

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Chapter 15

alexa bring me my popped corn and a drink. im about to watch a white boy get annihilated

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

may go back and edit some things for the final cut bc im STILL not all the way satisfied with how the trial is working out

the one where byakuya has only the vaguest idea what the hell is going on

syo is so fun to write. sorry im syo apologizer now

betaread byy @digitaldollsworld :)))

Content warning tags: mild descriptions/mentions of blood/gore

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The ride down to the courtroom is tense as usual, but with a new, palpable level of hostility in the air. He feels gazes, laden with suspicion and wariness, but there’s no whispers, at the very least. Aside from the rumble of the elevator (and the occasional grunt and insult from Syo, who was picking a fight with anyone who ‘looked at her funny’), the air is dead silent.

He ignores them, arms crossed and staring resolutely ahead. The animosity isn’t unfamiliar to him; he’s experienced such things countless times already, from his siblings who wanted him gone, to adults who thought him young and impertinent and an obstacle. And he’s not one to care for the opinions of the lower class either, but it irks him that he needs to take them into consideration for this trial.

If he lets them decide based on their naive pathos alone, they’ll all be doomed. No matter how much he disliked having to cooperate with the rest of them, as foolish as they were, it would be necessary to ensure his own survival. As a child, Pennyworth once reprimanded him for criticizing the democratic structure of the various national governments, saying ‘the greatest asset is people.’ Byakuya had grown to understand the truth of those words, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

There’s a quiet shuffling sound at his side, that startles him out of his thoughts. He glances over, and sees Makoto, surreptitiously edging near.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, and when Byakuya raises an eyebrow at him, he taps the side of his face. “You know…”

Ah, right. “Yes. I’m fine.” He reaches to touch the side of his face - the swelling has reduced noticeably already, though it still feels soft and tender under his fingers. Like an overripe fruit. “Don’t worry about pointless things.”

“It’s not-” He starts, before sighing. “Okay.” Makoto’s head twists, glancing around them for any onlookers. “About my investigation-”

“Save it.” There were bound to be eyes and ears on them, most noticeably, Kirigiri’s. He can see the girl standing out of the corner of his periphery, a pillar of pale violet. He’d prefer not to draw unnecessary suspicion now. “I’ll hear about it during the trial anyways.”

Makoto falls silent. For a few moments, the only sound is the rumble of the elevator, the occasional shifting of restless bodies. Then Makoto leans closer until their arms graze, a sudden, shifting press of warmth.

“I promise, I’m going to prove you’re innocent.” There’s an unexpected fierceness to his tone, a determination that Byakuya only heard once before, during the last trial. “No matter what.”

He blinks, taken aback somewhat. He hadn’t expected this display of loyalty, but - well - maybe it was to make up for their previous falling-out. Whatever the case, Byakuya finds himself strangely reassured.

“Hmph. You better.” He crosses his arms and surveys their surroundings. “If you don’t, we’re all dead.”

So Makoto was certain of his innocence. That was some comfort, though Byakuya couldn’t put his entire faith in the other boy alone. At the end of the day, he could only rely on his own strength to get him through this.

It will be fine. The elevator shudders to a stop, and the metal grate of the doors rattle as they slide open. Everyone files silently to their stands, at this point already familiar with what being in this room meant. No matter what the outcome was, at least one of them would die.

From his stand, he looks around. Everyone seems somber, and even Syo is quieted down for once, currently consumed with picking at her nails. Ogami has her arms crossed, face turned downwards. Hagakure keeps fidgeting, head nervously turning this way and that. Kiyotaka seems as stiff as ever, posed as rigidly as a statue and staring silently ahead. Something white is wrapped around his head, stark against his dark hair; a bandage, most likely, and Byakuya wonders for a moment if he’s concussed.

“Welcome, welcome!!” Monokuma springs up, twirling on its chair like a clown. “What do you guys think of my redecorating? Pretty nice, right?”

Byakuya has no idea what the bear is talking about, until he looks around again and notices that there were more plaques, standing in each of the unoccupied podiums. Even with his vision, he can identify what the dark-framed rectangles are supposed to be, and why each of them had red paint splattered across it in an ‘x’.

Last time, it had been Maizono and Enoshima. This time, it was Kuwata, and Chihiro.

How tasteless. No one bothers to say a thing in response.

“Gosh, what’s with the silent treatment? Cats got your tongues?” Monokuma hums, apparently put off by the lack of reaction. “What a bunch of downers! Where’s your youth?”

“Enough with this.” Owada growls darkly. His hands are fisted tightly on the railing. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Well, aren’t you rip-raring to go! Didn’t expect that from you, Mister Owada!” Monokuma cackles excitedly. “But I don’t hate it! Alright, let’s get this show on the road!!”

So it begins. Byakuya readjusts his stance, lifting his head to stand tall and straight. He cannot afford to show weakness here. He cannot afford himself any more leniency, any reason for failure.

It was time to start the trial.

___

“Because we have a newcomer, let’s go over the rules one more time.” Monokuma says, as it climbs onto its chair. “At the conclusion of this trial, you will all vote for who you think committed the crime, and your vote will determine the results. If you can figure out ‘whodunnit’ then only they will receive punishment. But if you pick the wrong one…” It grunts slightly as it finally clambers into its seat, settling in with a bounce. “Then, I'll punish everyone besides the blackened, and the one that deceived everyone else will graduate!...Does that make sense, Miss Syo?”

“A death game, huh?” Syo hums, tilting her head. “No wonder y’all are so tense. It’s a real battle royale in here!”

“How dare you? My game is way more sophisticated than that government-organized waste of tax dollars!” Monokuma sounds genuinely affronted, somehow. “But- well, I could talk forever about that, but I don’t wanna cut into everyone’s time. To start, why don’t we go over some details from the case? I’m dying to know what you guys are thinking~!”

The response is more quiet, some awkward shuffles. Considering the events of the last trial, everyone was treating this one like a minefield, and each person was afraid to venture out first.

Finally, someone speaks up. “Let’s start with the scene itself.”

Kyoko’s voice is calm and steady, and cuts through the tense air. Silently, Byakuya appreciates her initiative, the careful drawing of the reins, the call for a preamble. If he came out and began throwing accusations outright, it would only damage his credibility; he needs a base to stand on.

“R-right.” Makoto follows up quickly. “Um, so. At around…one-fifteen today, Chihiro’s body was discovered by Byakuya, Hina, and Kyoko in the hallway outside the library. The body announcement went off shortly after.

“The body…was leaning against the wall, and apparently crucified,” His voice wavers slightly, but he presses on. “The presumed cause of death was…was a blow to the head. The Monokuma file says the death was instant.”

A blow to the head? He almost asks aloud, surprised. Though it hadn’t exactly been clear with the amount of blood on Chihiro’s body, he thought the cause of death would have been stab wounds, given Syo’s modus operandi.

If it was someone with the same cleverness as Kyoko, they wouldn’t have missed such an obvious detail, and if it were Syo herself I doubt she would have strayed from her pattern… He casts a glance at Syo, now picking at her teeth. Though, it is difficult to kill someone cleanly with sharp objects alone.

Somewhere to the side, Asahina shudders. “How horrible…”

Makoto only nods once, jerkily, in agreement. “The word ‘bloodlust’ was written on the wall besides the corpse, presumably with blood from- from the crime itself.” There’s the quiet sound of him swallowing drily. “The scene also mimics the signature of a serial killer that was pretty prolific a short while ago-”

“That’s ri-ight~!”

He’s interrupted by a giggle. All heads turned towards the source.

Syo is twirling in her stand, pointing at herself with the same glee as an audience member who was picked out of a game show. “It’s yo-ours truly! Call and I shall appear!!” She strikes some kind of ridiculous pose, hip cocked out and arms raised. “Genocider Syo is here!”

Even though they had all been present for her initial self-introduction, the declaration still draws some disbelief. “Wait, so…you’re serious?” Hagakure asks, with an air of incredulousness. “Lil’ Toko, the bookworm, a serial killer? You sure this isn’t, like, a late-case of middle-schooler syndrome?”

“Bah! Don’t compare me to those posers, Grasshead!” She snaps, pointing at him, and he yelps, flinging his arms up as if she was threatening him with an actual weapon. “I’m the real deal!! Ask me about any of the victims, and I can tell you everything ‘bout ‘em, from their favorite foods to their shitty tastes in girls!”

“...Anyways, Toko - in this case, known as Syo - was also carrying these.” Kirigiri withdraws a brown pouch from her jacket, the contents of it jingling. “Inside are scissors matching the unique make and model of the murder weapons found at Syo’s crime scenes. Between these and the…dramatic change in personality, I think we can confidently assume that Toko is Syo, and vice versa.”

“Hmph. Gloomy wishes she could be me.” Syo harrumphs. “But yeah, sure, you got me detective! Me n’ Gloomy are like twins in one body, but only one person can drive at a time, yakkno? And she always hogs the wheel.”

There’s a murmur, as people take in this new revelation. “So…like a split personality?” Yamada asks.

“Not quite.” Kirigiri replies immediately. “It’s not clear how her affliction might be classified, but it does explain how she was able to avoid detection for so long.”

I see…” Celeste’s fingernails tap lightly against the railing. “But with this, does it not appear as if this case is already solved?”

“No…it’s not that simple.” Makoto says, a frown in his voice. “All of Syo’s previous victims died by stab wounds, but this time around, Chihiro’s cause of death was from blunt force to the skull…plus, nothing sharp was used in the crime at all.”

This time, Byakuya can’t hide his surprise. “Really?”

He immediately shuts his mouth, at once disgusted with himself for losing his control like that, but it’s too late. Attention turns to him. “What is it, Byakuya?”

He grits his teeth, now with no choice but to move forward. “I didn’t get a close look at the body earlier,” He explains, which is something like the truth. “But - given the blood and the nature of Syo’s crimes - I assumed that there would have been use of stabbing to at least mimic the scene, if only just to suspend the corpse?”

It’s a plausible enough explanation. He can only hope no one noticed the hesitancy in his voice. Kirigiri is the one that responds. “It is strange,” She nods. “I noticed that as well. But no, there are no stab wounds whatsoever on the body, and Syo’s scissors are completely clean. The body itself is suspended with an extension cord looped around the wrists, and hammered into the wall.”

This was more unexpected information, but useful information nonetheless. But it was frustrating that he couldn’t have seen it for himself to confirm, and all he could do now was rely on Kirigiri’s claim. But no one else was speaking up to disprove her, and so he had no choice.

“Couldn’t she have chosen a different weapon and method of crucifixion to keep suspicion off of herself?” Celeste asks again, curiously. “Given the enclosed nature of our surroundings, would it not make sense for her to try and create a scene where we could not ascertain her role in it?”

“Right! Couldn’t it be that Syo - er, Miss Syo -” Yamada corrects himself quickly. “- was trying to cover her tracks? I mean, I’ve seen it all the time in mystery mangas, where the killer changes up their style to throw the dogs off their tail…”

“No way!” Syo confirms aloud, sounding genuinely affronted by the suggestion. “I take pride in my works, yakkno? Any shmuck can make sushi, but it takes a real master to make the real thing. And what happened with Chihiro is some cheap convenience-store trash you can buy for a kid’s allowance!”

Ugly metaphor aside, it made sense. After reading so many case files, he had an understanding of how hedonistic killers operate, and it seemed that Syo was certainly not out of the norm in this case. She and the mastermind were similar in this regard. No matter how irrational, they always adhered to their own twisted sense of pride, and by extension, followed their own set of guidelines strictly.

But, then that meant it was unlikely for Syo to have committed the deed. Out of three possible suspects in his mind, he knew it was not himself, and if it wasn’t her, then the last one left was…

“That’s a possibility, but it’s not likely here,” Kirigiri speaks as if Syo had never said anything in the first place. “Syo was far too eager to reveal her identity, so it’s unlikely that she had intentions of hiding herself...and furthermore, with someone with as extensive a streak as her, it strikes me as odd that she would break her habits now.” She voices out the exact thoughts he was having himself, and that both reassures and irritates him at the same time. “Rather, the obvious way the body was displayed, plus the small differences with the actual killing method and the mounting, makes me think that this is a red herring.”

“Quite right,” Byakuya says now, and he can feel eyes turning onto him. “But many details on Syo’s killing methods and habits were concealed from the public, including the fact that the victims were crucified. Which means there is only a limited number of people here who could have copied her M.O to this extent. Am I correct?”

There’s a moment’s pause. He’s taken them by surprise, by pointing out the very thing that would otherwise suggest his involvement. Everyone had seen Owada confront him on the second floor hallway, had heard his messy accusation, though given how Kirigiri was quick to have the suspects isolated and Owada occupied by the menial task of overseeing the scene, they likely weren’t aware of any real explanation for his suspect status beyond Owada’s initial, hasty claims.

That was what he needed to take advantage of now, if he was going to keep suspicion off of him and survive.

Kirigiri nods slowly, likely also taken aback by his sudden interjection. “That’s true…the details of the Syo’s victims were kept confidential to only high-level police and investigators-”

“But that doesn’t mean jack here,” Owada cuts in sharply. He had been quiet this entire time, but now he leans forward, hands clutched against the wooden rail. The tip of his pompadour is facing Byakuya, as if staring him down. “There was that folder thing, right? The one that had all the details on Toko or Syo or whatever, I don’t give a shit.” He drawls out his cusses with a snarl, trembling with rage. “And the only guy who’s spent enough time in the library to be reading about that kinda stuff is right in front of me.”

Byakuya suppresses a sigh. Of course, Owada would jump to such conclusions, easily thrown into a blind fury by mere provocation. The bruise still throbbing on his face is evidence of that. “As I was beginning to explain, yes, I did have access to this knowledge. However, I alone can’t be classified as the killer-.”

Owada cuts him off again. “But there’s more evidence, ain’t there? You were the only one closest to the body when it was found. You were the only one with blood on you-”

“Oh, please. Everything you’re describing is circumstantial at best.” He scoffs. “It’s not like I’m locking the library doors or living in there, anyone could have read that file. I don’t have access to anything that could’ve been used to stage such a crime. And the blood on me isn’t enough to justify a murder.”

“You could’ve cleaned it off then!” Owada spits, and Byakuya simply rolls his eyes.

“And what’s your proof? Beyond your own, half-baked opinions based on some coincidences?” He snarks. He can’t waste too much time on this. He needs to move on, and quickly. If too much attention lingers on him, he’ll lose credibility. “Tell him, Makoto.”

Gazes turn towards Makoto. Byakuya waits, expecting him to say something, to point out the blatant lack of proof, or offer some counterargument to break down Owada’s logic. But Makoto is silent, his face cast downwards. After a pause that feels entirely too long, Byakuya finally understands why.

The realization completely derails him, and his fragile, haphazard plan of attack shatters. “Don’t tell me…” he says incredulously under his breath, mostly to himself.

“There is proof.” Kirigiri confirms his suspicions. She holds something up - rectangular and maybe the size of a small book, and maybe white once, but stained so thoroughly with blood it was hard to tell - “There was a mess in the library suggesting a struggle had occurred, and there was a textbook that had some bloodstains along the spine found near the far shelf. There were also two of these gauze pads found behind the door.” There’s a dry crackle as she sets the bloodied gauze down against the railing. “Furthermore, the cord that was used to crucify Chihiro was also confirmed to have come from the library. We found an empty box with a broken lid, with a dust imprint that suggests that it was used to hold the cord.” She pauses for a moment, as if gauging reactions. “There was also a white sheet found in the boy’s bathroom on the second floor, with a large spot of blood near the middle of it.”

It feels like the floor is tilting under his feet, and he leans his weight forward into his arms, his hands still clutching the rail. The cord, the bloodied gauze? The sheet?

I’m being framed. That much was clear, but - he has no idea by who. It couldn’t have been Toko, or Syo. Had someone snuck into the library after Chihiro’s body was found, during all the confusion? Planted evidence to doom him?

“That’s impossible,” He hears himself saying, voice strangely distant. It takes an effort to drag himself back, out of his racing thoughts. He can still salvage this; I just need to stay calm.

“I’ve never touched that cord, and I have no idea where that gauze came from.” His own words sound pathetic and baseless, floundering attempts with no substance. “And- there’s not enough blood on the book to justify that kind of killing blow-”

“So it was used to hit someone?” Celeste asks, an amused note in her voice. Immediately, he snaps his mouth shut, cursing at himself silently. “Won’t you please elaborate for us?”

“That was-” It’s hard to explain the real reason. That he had struck Fukawa, in a moment of panic; no matter how much he hated that girl, to admit such a thing was humiliating, the act of someone lesser than him. “-from something else.”

His eyes dart towards Syo, half-expecting her to come forward and call him out on his avoidance of the topic. But all she does is…wiggle, her hands clutching her face.

“Gosh, I’m jealous of whoever got to feel those hands on ‘em!” She swoons, and he realizes that she didn’t remember. Either that, or she had no intention of bringing it up, and the latter seemed unlikely.

Kirigiri leans forward a bit, pale face turned towards him. “The gauze pad I held up was soaked through, but it’s strange how clumsily it was hidden. Additionally, just the two of them wouldn’t have been nearly enough to justify the cleanup of an entire scene, especially given the tendency of head wounds to bleed.” She pauses, apparently waiting for any protest, before continuing. “And the book, too. To match the shape and dimensions of the wound, you would have had to use the corner of the book and apply a heavy amount of force, and there aren’t any deep stains or large splatters against the edges that would suggest such a thing.”

The relief he feels is nearly palpable, Kirigiri’s methodical words like a balm. He’d be almost grateful for it, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was suspecting her as well. Was she trying to get his guard down? To ensure his support if she were accused? He can see others nodding, following her logic.

“And what about the sheet?” Ogami asks.

“The stain on it doesn’t suggest it was used to wipe anything up. And there are no clear splatter marks to suggest that it was laid down prior to doing the deed, to reduce cleanup time.” An inadvertent breath of relief leaves him, a quiet sigh, and he swears for a moment that he feels her gaze flick towards him, a near-imperceptible turn of her head. “The boy’s bathroom is also not as strictly regulated as the locker rooms, so to claim that Byakuya was the only one on the second floor who could have put that there is untrue.”

He refuses to let himself show gratitude for her aid. He looks away as she turns to him fully, pretends like he doesn’t see it. “So…does that mean it wasn’t Byakuya?” Asahina asks, bewildered. Byakuya opens his mouth to confirm-

“The hell it isn’t.”

Owada’s voice is a low rumble. Byakuya has heard him yell and rage before, but there’s something different now. An unidentifiable emotion beneath the anger. But it creates the same sensation as the thunder before a storm.

“That fucker was in the library the entire fucking time. Chihiro got strung up right across from him.” The room is silent, everyone terrified to interrupt. Byakuya can hear the creak of wood as Owada fists tighten on the rail. “There’s too many things that make him suspicious, don’t fucking tell me that all of you are just gonna write it off as fucking coincidental? Chihiro’s DEAD!”

“That’s-” Makoto speaks up, but his voice is drowned out almost immediately.

“The gauze. The case file. The sheet, the fucking extension cord.” Owada continues, turning slowly to cast his gaze at every person in the courtroom. “There’s no one else in this room who could’ve known about how Syo does her murders. There’s no one else with access to all the pieces to set this shit up. There’s no one else who would’ve had a motive-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He manages to keep his voice halfway steady, unshaken despite the sudden onslaught, but the beds of his fingernails are beginning to ache from where he digs his nails into the grains of the wood. The inside of his mouth tastes of metal and salt, accompanied by a raw, bleeding pain in his cheek.

“A motive. You, during breakfast - didn’t you say all that shit about ‘waiting for someone to die’?” Owada sounds just as hysterical as himself. “And then, Chihiro said you were the one who told him to tell everyone his secret - were you trying to get his guard down? To make him vulnerable, like you said?!”

“You’re insane. Do you even hear yourself?” Byakuya spits back. His head spins, and he feels sick. “I would never kill Chihiro, I-”

I owe him a debt.

He can’t say that. The words freeze on his tongue before he even comprehends what he’s about to say, as if pure instinct has held it back. But his mind feels unfamiliarly, frustratingly blank, filled with the static of rushing thoughts and a haze of panic.

If he tries to explain, he reveals his blindness, and makes himself vulnerable. If he doesn’t, he risks letting himself be identified as the culprit. His options were torn between his honor and his life, and either choice would ruin him.

He hasn’t felt this cornered in years. Not since the competition for heir.

“See? See?!” Owada is still screaming, but he sounds so far away. It sounds almost frenzied, as if with triumph. “He can’t even explain himself! He tricked Chihiro, and then murdered him!”

“No, that’s wrong!”

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#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #had to throw in a 'tell em makoto' in here somewhere bc. he's so extra #this would go a lot smoother if he just admitted he hit toko (hitting a girl...not cool byakuya)#to summarize the evidence at this point: the mess in the library + the bloody book #the bloodied gauze pads behind the door #the sheet with a large spot of blood found in the boy's bathroom #the electrical cord used to hang chihiro came from the library

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