Chapter Text
As I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I waited—prayed—for sleep to come. But it refused, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Why am I here? What’s going to happen to us?
No matter how many times I turned the questions over, I found no answers. Only dread. The idea of murder, of anyone here actually going through with it, felt impossible… unthinkable. This had to be some kind of dream. No, some kind of nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
At last, exhaustion claimed me. My eyelids grew heavy, and I let myself slip away, clinging to the faint hope that when I opened my eyes again… all of this would be gone.
When my eyes finally cracked open, the dull light spilling in from the curtains made me flinch. For a second, I almost believed I’d wake up back in my old bedroom, with Rin scolding me for oversleeping again. But reality set in fast—this wasn’t home. This was here. This prison in disguise.
I dragged myself out of bed, tugging my gray cardigan tighter over my shoulders. My stomach churned with a mix of hunger and dread, but I forced myself down the hallway anyway. The silence of the dorms made every step echo too loudly in my ears.
By the time I pushed open the doors to the dining room, the murmur of voices spilled out like a wave. Everyone was already there. Sixteen chairs around the long table, now filled with faces—some tired, some nervous, some acting like nothing was wrong.
Yuriko was busy setting trays of bread and sweets down in the center, her calm smile trying to lighten the tension. Seishi balanced plates alongside her, moving quickly like a seasoned server. At the far end of the table, Hotaru had his head buried in his handheld console, completely ignoring the situation.
Rin sat a few chairs down, arms crossed, eyes sharp as always. She spotted me immediately.
“Finally awake,” she muttered. “Don’t keep people waiting.”
I swallowed and nodded, trying to muster some courage before I stepped further inside. Every eye turned toward me, and for the first time, I felt the full weight of being one of sixteen trapped in this nightmare.
“Ah… Yuriko, your cooking is truly delightful,” Utena murmured, her voice calm and lilting as she delicately tore another piece of bread.
After Seishi finished passing out the last of the plates, he slid quietly into the seat beside her. “Um… good morning, Miss Utena,” he said, his tone soft but earnest. “D-Did you, uh… sleep well?”
“…Yes,” Utena replied without hesitation, her answer clipped and matter-of-fact. She raised her cup of tea, sipping it as if the conversation were already over.
Seishi’s fingers tapped anxiously against the table. I caught the way his cheeks reddened, almost as if he wanted to sink beneath the polished wood.
“… Why do you always talk to me so quickly, then just… drift away?” he finally blurted, his voice more vulnerable than usual.
Utena’s lone pink eye softened, though only slightly. “…You remind me of someone I once knew.” She sipped again, giving no further explanation.
“…Oh,” Seishi mumbled, lowering his gaze.
The silence between them lingered, and I felt myself turning away, almost guilty for eavesdropping. My eyes landed on Rin, sitting further down the table with her arms folded, staring at her untouched plate. She looked restless, maybe even irritated.
I pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. “Hey,” I said quietly, leaning closer so only she could hear. “You doing okay?”
Rin raised an eyebrow at me, her sharp gaze cutting through me for a moment. “…Do I look okay?” she muttered, her voice edged with both annoyance and fatigue.
I hesitated before answering. “…Not really. You look like you’re ready to bite someone’s head off.”
That managed to get the smallest smirk out of her, though she quickly hid it behind her hand. “…Guess you’re not as dense as you look, Tsuneo.”
I chuckled under my breath. “Glad I passed the test.”
Rin’s eyes flicked down to her plate, her smirk fading. “…I just don’t like this whole… act. Everyone is sitting here like it’s normal. Eating breakfast like we’re not trapped.” Her voice dropped lower. “It feels fake. Wrong.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, and for once, she didn’t look like the sharp, sarcastic girl she usually tried to be. She looked tired. Human.
“…Yeah,” I said softly, nodding. “I feel the same. But… maybe acting normal’s the only thing keeping some of us sane right now.”
Rin let out a quiet scoff, but it wasn’t mocking. More like she was trying not to admit I had a point. “…Tch. You’re starting to sound like Ichiro, you know that?”
I gave her a faint grin. “Ouch. Don’t compare me to him.”
That earned me the smallest laugh, barely audible—but it was there.
Rin’s quiet laugh was cut short by the sudden thump-thump-thump of sneakers against the floor.
“Good morniiing, sunshine!” Ichiro’s voice rang out before his body even fully appeared. He bounded over, plopping himself down right beside me, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine.
“Uh—Ichiro?” I blinked, startled. “You, uh… seem energetic.”
“Of course I am!” he grinned, leaning on the table with one elbow and propping his chin in his hand, his face tilting just a little too close to mine. “I couldn’t possibly let my dear Tsuneo sit here all serious-faced without some cheer in his life.”
I felt the tips of my ears heat up. “…D-Dear…?”
Rin rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might stick that way. “You’ve been insufferable since the second we met you, Ichiro.”
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Rin,” Ichiro teased, flashing her a wink before turning his focus back to me. “Anyway, did you sleep well, Tsuneo? Dream about me, maybe?”
“W-What?! N-No! Why would I—?” I stammered, nearly choking on my own words.
Ichiro burst out laughing, loud enough to make a few heads at the other end of the table turn. “Relax, I’m just teasing!” He clapped me on the back—hard, as always. “But hey… if you ever do dream about me, I won’t complain.”
Rin groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m fun, Rin,” Ichiro corrected smugly, flashing his wide grin. Then he looked back at me, his gaze softer for just a flicker of a moment. “Besides, I think Tsuneo gets it. Right, buddy?”
“…Y-Yeah, sure…” I mumbled, staring down at my plate, hoping no one noticed the warmth still burning on my cheeks.
The chatter around the table grew, small clusters of voices overlapping—Miki excitedly babbling about pool tricks to Yuna, while Hanako argued with Kenta about whether acting was a “real job.”
Then, a clear voice rose above the noise.
“Everyone, may I have your attention?” Yuriko Kawabata stood at the end of the table, her hands clasped neatly in front of her apron. She wasn’t loud, but there was a natural authority in her tone that quieted the room. Even Ichiro stopped mid-sentence, his grin fading into curiosity.
“I know we’re all… unsettled by what’s happening to us,” Yuriko began, her expression calm yet compassionate. “And none of us asked to be here. But I believe it’s important we hold onto hope and unity, no matter the circumstances.”
She paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “So—I’d like to propose we have a gathering tonight. A little party in the dining hall. Nothing extravagant, just a meal together. Laughter, music, maybe even dancing if we’re brave enough.”
Miki gasped, clapping her hands together. “A pool party too?!”
“No, Miki,” Rin deadpanned.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Seishi spoke up softly, nodding in agreement. “Something… to remind us that we’re people, not prisoners.”
Utena tilted her head, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass. “…A party to stave off despair. Hm. Symbolic, I suppose.”
Hanako leaned back with a smirk. “Fine by me. But someone better play good music. I’m not dancing to boring crap.”
Ichiro nudged me with his elbow, whispering close to my ear: “Guess that means you’ll have to save me a dance, huh?”
I stiffened. “…I-I don’t dance.”
“Oh, you will,” he teased.
Yuriko’s warm smile returned as she looked around the room. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we’ll celebrate. Not because of where we are, but in spite of it. As long as we’re together, none of us need to feel alone—or unsafe.”
The room buzzed again, a cautious but hopeful energy weaving through the tension that had been choking us since yesterday.
After breakfast ended, Yuriko clapped her flour-dusted hands together. “Alright, everyone! If we want this party to be a success, we’ll need to tidy up the dining hall. Seishi and I will prepare the food, but I’ll need a few helpers to clear and decorate.”
Seishi stood up quickly, nearly knocking over his chair. “Y-Yes! I’ll start the prep right away, Miss Yuriko!” His voice cracked, and he turned red when Utena raised an eyebrow at him.
“Relax, Seishi,” Yuriko chuckled. “I’ll handle the heavier cooking. You can help set things out later.”
Ichiro groaned, slumping across the table. “Cleaning? Boooring. Can’t we just, y’know, celebrate in the mess? Adds character!”
“No,” Rin said flatly, already stacking plates. “We’re not animals.”
I sighed and picked up a few empty cups. “Come on, Ichiro. Just help out. It’ll be faster.”
“Fine, fine,” he said, hopping to his feet. He leaned in close with a grin. “But only because you asked, Tsuneo.”
I rolled my eyes, clutching the cups tighter to hide the warmth creeping up my neck.
Meanwhile, Hanako dragged a chair across the floor, grumbling. “Why the hell am I playing maid for this? This better be the best damn party ever.”
“Don’t worry, it will be!” Miki said, twirling around with a stack of napkins. She dropped half of them on the floor but scooped them up quickly, humming as she went.
At the far end, Kenta was holding a spoon like a microphone, practicing a speech in the reflection of the silverware. “Ah yes, thank you, thank you—yes, I *am* the star of the evening…”
Rin muttered, “Unbelievable.”
While chaos unfolded around the room, Yuriko and Seishi quietly retreated into the kitchen. From the doorway, I could see Yuriko already kneading dough with practiced grace while Seishi carefully chopped vegetables, his hands trembling slightly.
“Careful with that knife,” Yuriko said gently.
“O-Of course! Sorry, Miss Yuriko!”
She just smiled softly, her tone warm but firm. “No need to be nervous. You’re doing well. Just focus. Cooking is best when it comes from the heart.”
Seishi’s cheeks flushed again, and he nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”
I turned back to the dining room, watching as Rin tried to wrestle decorations away from Miki while Ichiro balanced precariously on a chair to hang streamers. For a brief moment, despite everything, it almost felt like… a normal school day.
Almost.