Uso dayo!

This couldn't be happening.

He'd seen the tapes. The archived historic documentation. Explain in detail what was happening. How the killing game worked. Kokichi knew from beginning to end what they were in for the moment the body discovery announcement had played. From the moment he'd come face to face with the first casualty of this nightmare scenario.

History repeating itself in the form of Ran crumpled in a pool of his own blood and the crushing dread that it had been one of his closest friends who had done it.

And yet as the collar descended from the ceiling to whisk Kei away—Kei, Kokichi still couldn't comprehend—it only now struck him how truly screwed they all were.

That's right. The executions of the Blackened were publicized.

The piano rose from the ground in the execution chamber with a rumble, and despite her acceptance, Kei's confused scream reverberated out as she was dumped unceremoniously on the comically large keys. Kokichi looked apprehensively around at the others, gauging their reactions. Of course they all didn't remember a thing. This would all be completely unexpected to them.

They were meant to watch.

Watch as the shining beacon of the group was made an example of.

A hush fell over the chamber as Monokuma lifted his arms in a mocking pantomime of a conductor. The Monokubz flanked the piano with ropes and pulleys. The rope on the collar was pulled taught, yanking Kei to her feet and leaving her to balance precariously on her tip-toes on the keys.

Kei, the cheer and music of their group.

Monokuma waved his arms, and the recital began. Kokichi and the others could do nothing but watch.

Kei, the heart and soul.

Watch as she was lifted and dragged by her neck across the keys, choking and grasping at the collar to alleviate the pressure any way she could.

Kei, who was first to check in on you after a mission.

Watch as she was plunked down on key after key, the briefest respite as she was allowed a gasp or cough of air.

Kei, who'd laid with Ran on the floor, talking out his frustrations after he'd destroyed the kitchen in a fit of rage.

Watch as her feet scrabbled at the keys for purchase as she was lifted again and again, pressing them at random in a garish, off-key mash of notes.

Kei, who'd shined through to everyone even after forgetting, bringing them all together again.

Watch in abject horror as the minutes dragged on into hours, as her gasps turned into wheezes, her face turning red and then blue and the purple, each note only giving her just enough air to barely take her to the next, as it slowly dawned on them all that piano recitals typically last for up to two hours.

Kei... Who was no longer Kei but Akamatsu.

A stranger wearing Kokichi's dear friend's face.

Just like a real recital, there was a cruel fifteen-minute intermission. Nobody could actually leave, the execution chamber eerily quiet save for the choked wheezes of Akamatsu tip-toeing helplessly on the keys, unable to speak without wasting precious air, only able to look down at them with pleading eyes. Kokichi averted his gaze. No one said a word, dumbstruck and horrified at the cruelty. What could they have possibly said in this situation?

Some had dispersed throughout the chamber—Yumeno, Chabashira, Shirogane, Kiibo, Hoshi—huddled in the corner, not wanting to humiliate Akamatsu further by watching the pathetic display.

And some—Saihara, Harukawa, Shinguuji, Toujou, Momota—maybe because it was the only thing they could do, maybe because it felt cruel to let her die alone, with no one acknowledging the horror, forced themselves to keep watching.

And then it began all over again, faster.

Kokichi continued to watch with them. For Kei's sake. For Akamatsu's sake.

Akamatsu, who didn't listen to a word Kokichi had said.

Continued to watch as her eyes rolled back in her head, the light finally starting to leave them as her raw, bloody fingers slipped from the collar.

Akamatsu, who just assumed she'd known best because she had everyone's best interests at heart.

Continued to watch as they continued to play for another forty minutes after her body went still, swinging her lifeless corpse across the keys.

Akamatsu, who took the stupid risk to take down the Mastermind herself. To kill, and now Ran was dead, and now she was, too.

Continued to watch as by the end, as if that hadn't been enough, the lid slowly swung closed, snapping down on her like the jaw of a monster, reducing her body to an unrecognizable, dehumanized splatter of blood and gore sent spraying all over the remaining members.

Akamatsu, the Blackened, no more.

But still, at least to Kokichi, undeniably Kei.

Stubborn, overoptimistic Kei, whom Kokichi had failed to protect from herself.

How could he, their true leader, the only one who knew who they all were, have been so useless...?