Uso dayo!

Something was very, very wrong, but Kokichi couldn't really place what it was.

The dining hall was overtaken with idle chitchat as the "strangers" around him—his supposed classmates—discussed their plans for the day. He sat at the end of the table, with his back to the wall, all three doors in and out of the room and every occupant in clear view. Was there a reason to be this vigilant? Everyone was here. Kokichi had counted. Twice.

Make that three times. Everyone was here.

That he knew of.

He shifted his seat uncomfortably to better see the barricaded door to the deck on his right.

The breakfast Toujou had made sat in front of him, a traditional Japanese breakfast of grilled fish, miso soup, rice, and steamed vegetables, as he'd requested. A cup of tea steamed to the side, also per his request. Kokichi stared at it. Jasmine tea, per his request, brewed fresh by Toujou, which he'd requested. He picked up the cup and gazed into it, a pretty, mild green color that made up for the aroma that was lost on him.

Kokichi swallowed thickly.

His heart stuttered in his chest, and he looked across the room at everyone else. They were happily digging in to their own meals, all made by Toujou, all presented by Toujou, without a care in the world. Two chairs down, Amami caught his eye for a brief moment, and Kokichi anxiously dropped his gaze back to his tea.

"This is amazing, Toujou-san, thank you," Akamatsu said warmly, and a chill ran up Kokichi's spine.

What was going on? There was something, something wrong that Kokichi couldn't for the life of him place. A strange sense of familiarity? A skewed sense of knowledge he felt should be there, but wasn't. It was more than the kidnapping itself. Everything about this place, the faces, the words being spoken were—

"Is the tea not to your liking, Ouma-san?"

Kokichi's head snapped back up to find everyone was staring at him. His blood ran cold as he smiled innocently. "No, it's perfect!"

And then he took a sip to prove his point.

And then suddenly glass was clawing its way down his throat.

Amami, Toujou, and several others jumped to their feet in concern as Kokichi doubled over, choking and sputtering. He could feel it, tearing through his throat, ripping into his lungs and stomach, fine granules of something—

And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

His grasp on the cup trembled as he heaved, trying to collect himself. Everyone was watching. Staring. Expecting him to keel over. Expecting the killing game to start right there at breakfast in front of them all. Slowly, he stood on shaky legs, plastering on a wobbly grin.

"Whoops, I lied!" he rasped. "It's terrible, Toujou-chan! I've never had tea this bad before!"

"How rude! Her tea is great!" Chabashira scoffed, and everyone settled down. "Typical behavior of a degenerate male."

The whole world felt like it was tilted sideways.

"If it was truly not to your liking, I would be happy to brew another pot," Toujou offered. Kokichi's hackles raised.

"No need!" Kokichi quipped. His throat felt like sandpaper. "I wasn't really that thirsty anyway. I'm gonna go clean up."

Most everyone dismissed him after that, and he breezed past them all, cup in hand. Only Amami's gaze continued to burn a hole in Kokichi's back as he disappeared into the kitchen.

He thought it would feel safer there, a moment of respite without everyone's eyes on him, but the moment he entered it was like Death himself had followed him inside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—it was your average industrial kitchen, seen in most any school. Despite Toujou's recent use of it, the counters were spotless. The industrial refrigerators hummed and whirred in the background, and something about that noise in particular constricted around Kokichi's lungs like a vice.

Kokichi quickly made his way to the sink with what remained of his cup of tea.

He peered inside of it.

Again, nothing seemed suspicious. And yet, the idea, the memory of it had felt so viscerally real—countless razor-sharp tiny grains ripping and gouging their way down through his insides. He looked into the cup again. If it was crushed finely enough, you still might not notice it in liquid, right?

Kokichi's hand shook as he poured it into the sink.

The whirring of the fridges behind him filled the room. Someone was behind him in the empty kitchen, a target painted on his back.

The tea evenly and innocently ran down the drain without a speck of glass in sight.

Everything was hot and cold at the same time. The room was dark, but somehow it still managed to spin and Kokichi groaned and tossed in bed. His stomach twisted and his pajamas were sticky, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Tears streaked flushed, feverish cheeks as he turned again, desperate to find a comfortable position. His wrist itched, but he couldn't scratch it. He got in trouble the last time he tried.

The door clicked open, letting in a stream of light from the hall.

"Kokichi?" came the soft, shy voice. Kokichi immediately stilled as his heart stuttered in his chest.

It was Nee-nee.

She wheeled a small cart into the room, clicking on a soft lamp on the nightstand to illuminate the room. Kokichi whined pathetically as she peered down at him with an unknowable something in her eyes. He wasn't sure why, but something was different about his Nee-nee whenever Kokichi was sick. Or rather, whenever she was taking care of him.

Something like a cat peering down at a helpless mouse.

She smiled sweetly, brushing Kokichi's damp bangs from his face. "Oh me, oh my, has that pesky fever still not broken?"

"It's sticky, Nee-nee," he croaked, tears pricking his eyes. "Make it stop..."

He couldn't tell if her smile changed or if it was the fever playing tricks on him.

"Don't worry, dearest," she tutted, turning to fiddle with whatever was on her little cart. "I'm sure some fluids will help."

Kokichi's stomach rolled at the sight of the IV bag. No, no, he didn't like the fluids! Anything but that, he'd even take Teru-nii's soup at this point. He didn't like how the cloudy contents of that bag made him feel.

She seemed unfazed however, hanging the bag up on the stand affixed to her baby brother's bed as he cowered under the covers.

"Kokichi, I need to attach—" She tried to peek under the blankets to get to the IV port taped to Kokichi's wrist, but he snatched it away, hugging it to his chest.

"Don' wanna, Nee-nee! Feels icky!"

Her momentarily surprised expression melded into another smile. A different one. Kokichi shivered.

That was the bad smile.

"Silly boy," she cooed with a saccharine sigh. "The fluids are what will help you not feel icky anymore!"

For the first time in his life, Kokichi doubted his Nee-nee.

She must have known, because her smile finally fell, leaving an eerily blank stare in its wake.

"Kokichi, you know that you're sick, right?"

Kokichi whimpered.

"You need someone to take care of you. To tend to your fever."

Her tone was so distant. Was she talking to him, or at him?

"You can't do anything like this. You're so small, so ill, completely helpless..."

She took a shuddering, breathy sigh.

"Who better than the Ultimate Nurse to care for you? " she drawled, her gaze sliding off to the side in a daze. "Your Nee-nee, right? Do you not trust me, Kokichi?"

Kokichi's chest tightened. His head hurt. He was dizzy. He wanted it to stop.

Nee-nee knew best, right?

"I-I trust you, Nee-nee," Kokichi stammered. "I just...!"

He eyed the bag warily.

"I'm scared..."

Her smile returned, and she held out her hand for his. "I know, Koko. Let Nee-nee make the scary sickies go away..."

Kokichi stared at her hand, then looked up at her again. A sweet, reassuring smile graced her features, but that... thing in her eyes remained. Kokichi didn't know what it was. It made his skin crawl, but...

Nee-nee knew best.

He gingerly turned over his arm, and she deftly took it in her chilly hands, turning it over to attach the IV to the port. Kokichi buried his face in his pillow, preparing for the burning sensation that would inevitably creep up his arm and through the rest of his body as the fluids entered his veins.