Uso dayo!

When Kokichi stepped into the elevator at the Shrine of Judgement, he tucked his arms behind his head like he always did, cradling his throbbing skull. He'd cleaned up the blood, stopped the active bleeding, and he was fortunate enough that his bangs hid the mark the board had left behind. To anyone else, he looked fine, and only Saihara and Harukawa had seen him on his way out—he vaguely remembered finding himself on the floor when they stumbled across him.

His forehead was pounding as the elevator started its descent. It was a miracle he didn't stumble. Or did he? He looked around. No one was looking at him, so he must not have. His vision kept swimming—that probably wasn't good.

He couldn't exactly ask Monokuma to be excused from the trial, though, could he? That was stupid.

Were they at the bottom yet? This trip was taking longer than Kokichi remembered.

Or maybe not because they were already spilling out onto the trial grounds.

God, Kokichi had no idea what was going on. The lights on the grounds were blinding, bright neons and varying shades of blue from the podiums and the stained glass windows. He resisted the urge to shut his eyes, rub his head, anything to alleviate the pain as he stepped on his podium. Why was there a deceased photo stand on his—

Wait, no, that wasn't his podium, was it?

Or he must have found his way to it at some point because the trial was suddenly starting. Monokuma blathering on the same rules they've heard three times now. Kokichi's mind was spinning, trying to organize his thoughts. The discussion started without him and he struggled to keep up.

If his head throbbed, no it didn't.

If he clung to his podium with a white-knuckle grip as it shifted and spun, no he didn't.

He plastered on a smile and dropped whatever comment made sense to push the discussion forward.

Who's death were they talking about again? Yonaga's? The lock, right. Well, only student council members could get in.

Wait, no that wasn't right, was it?

Everyone was staring at him all of a sudden. The lock. The lock, what was it about the lock?

Oh, fuck, he'd picked that in front of everything, hadn't he? Son of a—

No, maybe he could work with this. There had to be something. He was thinking about something during the investigation, before the whole seance thing happened. There was something wonky about the door. Kokichi couldn't remember what it was. He was in no condition to come up with a witty lie. What was something obviously false that Saihara could sink his teeth into for a second?

People were talking to him. He had to say something.

It was the first lie that popped into his head, and what a goddamn mess of a lie it was.

No it wasn't. He could make it work, he always did.

His podium lurched to the center as he was put under everyone's scrutiny. His vision nearly blacked out for a second as the whole room spun. He was gonna throw up. Come on, hold it. Once Saihara finds whatever it is Kokichi knew had to be there, he could rest his eyes for a bit.

How did he lock the door again? What a dumb question—

The back door. It was the back door, right. He remembered now. Actually, if he'd forgotten, no he hadn't.

It was over before Kokichi could even really comprehend where the discussion was going, but that was fine with him. Of course he wasn't banking on Saihara to do all the work. If that's what he'd been doing, no it wasn't. He'd never admit that was what he was baiting for, he was doing what he always did—boggle everyone's mind with his stupid games. Luring the culprit out with a blatantly stupid lie.

If his stomach was churning from vertigo and delirium, no it wasn't.

If his head was throbbing through the base of his skull, no it wasn't.

They were moving on, they were moving on without him again. What were they talking about now?

He just wanted this trial to be over. Would it kill them all to just be a little quieter? Just... just a little quieter. Turn off the lights. Iruma shut up, just shut the fuck up it doesn't matter who locked the back door, they had to get in first. And now Yumeno was yelling, lovely.

He couldn't let them know. It'd paint a target on his back.

He was fine. Everything was normal.

Focus on Yumeno instead. She's been putting herself through the wringer this go-round.

Take the spotlight off yourself.

And it worked. So they're talking about Chabashira now. Kokichi nodded along, making some kind of remark here and there just to appear engaged. Some dumb idea that it had been Yonaga's ghost. Suicide? No, that was dumb. Let's act like it's not though because Yumeno's being weird again.

Pure...? Him...?

Pure...

Him? Pure...?

Next question. The floorboard was used as a see-saw. Kokichi knew that painfully, painfully well.

Next question. Ugh, they're accusing Yumeno again? She's not even arguing this time!?

It's been hours at this point. When will it be over? He was going to black out again at this rate. No he wasn't. It was so, so bright. He took the opportunity in a lull to rest his eyes, ease the splitting ache behind them, just for a moment...

He nearly collapsed over the railing of the podium when he zonked out, and the vertigo over falling nearly made him puke.

Saihara was talking to him. What? The floorboards again?

Oh.

Kokichi tried not to go into too much detail. It's not like the severity of his injury was relevant to the case.

No one batted an eye. If his heart clenched a little at the simple dismissal, no it didn't.

Next question. Who got to the floorboards? If the pain from Kiibo flashing his stupid high beams for the gajillionth time that trial nearly made Kokichi break down in tears, no it didn't. Saihara and Shinguuji were arguing. Everything was spinning, everything was so big, he just wanted to go to bed and cry and sleep forever, and finally he could. Finally, it was over.

What a pitiful lie for him to tell himself, with the double-murder rule looming over him.

God, and they hadn't even gotten to the debate scrum yet. The podiums lifting into the air and spinning around like they did, as if he wasn't nauseous and disoriented enough already.

Kokichi was dreading the debate scrum.

Maybe, though, if everyone stayed on the same page, they wouldn't have to have one at all. That's all he could hope for. He resisted the urge to cradle his throbbing head as the topic shifted back to Yonaga's murder...

Wait.

Why were so many people insisting that they vote now?

"Oh man, I'm honored you asked me to meet up with you, Iruma-chan. Is this a booty call...?" Kokichi turned from the brick banister to face Iruma.

"... Or are you here to kill me?"

She took a step back, and if Kokichi saw a flash of fear on the overly simplistic face of her chibified avatar, no he didn't.

He couldn't get cold feet now, and neither could she.

"S-so... you figured it out," she muttered, composing herself. "But there's nothing you can do. You... can't resist me. I made sure of it when I programmed your settings."

Just as he'd anticipated. Damn. Guess it would have to be the nuclear option after all.

"Uh-ooooh!" he gushed sarcastically, making her wince. "Guess I'm in trouble now!"

The cheerful tone fell flat amidst the tense atmosphere. There was no mistaking it or covering it with a lie. No diffusing the situation as she continued to advance on him.

Iruma was serious.

"I-I'm sorry, but... you should just give up. This is... my only chance."

Of course it was. She had been planning this for days. Kokichi was all too aware of that, and what a thorough plan it had been. She really had thought of everything, from the method to the opportunity to the scapegoat to...

To the careful selection of her godforsaken victim.

It stung, really. After all the faith he'd put in her. After all the gadgets he'd commissioned from her. The plans she'd played a crucial part in—

"Ugh, what a pain in my ass. Why do I gotta make this again?"

The tink tink tink of a tiny hammer on a delicate electrical casing echoed through the lab as Kokichi casually fiddled with an unfinished remote in his hands, mashing the useless buttons at random.

"Quit complaining. This is all an unfuckable, ugly bitch like you is good for, anyway."

"Huh? Oh, okay."

For all the hostility, the atmosphere was comfortable between them. Two outliers who didn't let the other's eccentricities bother them. The relaxation for Kokichi somehow managed to loop right back into being unsettling.

If he'd gotten used to these quiet moments with Iruma, no he hadn't.

"But this is so exciting!" He hopped off the table and spun on his heel like an idiot to get some of that nervous energy out. "When this is done, we can probably defeat Monokuma, right? Especially when we all join forces!"

"Don't be stupid... If you're gonna do it... do it yourself."

Kokichi stopped and stared for a moment. Iruma didn't look up from her work.

"Hmmm?" He tucked his arms behind his head, leaning curiously with an inquisitive smile.

"It doesn't matter if we promise to work together... Someone will still betray us..."

If a chill ran up Kokichi's spine, no it didn't.

"Betray us and... kill one of us..."

He dropped his arms, his expression unreadable and Iruma continued to prattle on.

"Besides, this weapon won't make a difference. We'll be killed by an Exisal before we can use it. I just... invented it because I was asked to. I have no intention of defying Monokuma..."

She swapped her hammer for a tiny screwdriver, fingering her way through delicate wiring, entirely focused on her task.

Entirely oblivious to Kokichi watching her.

"There's no way we can beat him... And... I can't afford to die here, anyway... Not when I still need to invent something that's gonna change the world!"

She snapped the casing over the wiring on the newly finished electrohammer with a sense of finality.

"S-so... if you wanna defy Monokuma, do it yourself."

So that was it, huh...?

"But, if it does work out... come help me, okay? I'll do anything—anything—to thank you..."

Well, if he had the opportunity, he knew he would without question.

—but of course, that was a lie.

"I have no choice but to do this."

No, he supposed she didn't.

"My inventions will change the world... They'll make the world a better place!"

And at this point, neither did he. He carefully wiped his expression clean.

If his hand trembled slightly as he gave the signal, no it didn't.

"It's my duty as a genius inventor! S-so I can't afford to die here—"

Gokuhara descended on her immediately, just as they'd planned.

It was surreal, how the thin paper looped around her neck in one smooth motion. Kokichi staggered back as she desperately reached out to him, trying to make contact, to paralyze him, but Gonta held her back.

"S-sorry...! Gonta is so sorry!"

Kokichi sauntered to the door, flipping the lock shut. He took a stuttering breath and pushed the choking gasps behind him out of his mind. Mask on, he had to make sure Gokuhara didn't get cold feet. They were in too deep to turn back now.

"Don't be sorry, Gonta-chan," he reassured calmly. "She was trying to kill me, too."

It was either her or the rest of the class. He had to believe that. If there had been any chance, any at all, that Kokichi could be sure Saihara would have figured things out on his own without him—without the living lie detector to sniff out the shady truth of Iruma's world—then he would have happily bowed his head to her hammer. But he couldn't. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. Not after what he saw.

"She said it was for the world or whatever, but that was just a poor excuse," he insisted. If a waver managed to worm its way into his voice, no it didn't. "We're doing this to stop the vicious cycle of misery! So you don't need to apologize."

"B-but... but...!" Gokuhara sobbed as Iruma slowly stopped struggling, crumpling in his arms. "Gonta is sorry! Gonta is so sorry, Iruma-san!"

It was a shame Gokuhara would have to go down with them, too, but depending on Monokuma's answer then maybe he could work out a deal.

He was taking Iruma out of this game, so he alone should go with her.

"I already said you don't need to apologize. We had to do this for everyone's sake."

They had to do this. He had to do this. There was no other option. She would have lied. No one would have known. They would have died by her hand.

Besides, it was too late to ask for forgiveness.