Fanfiction: a little too late (Danganronpa)

[rionaleonhart]

doreyg reminded me of a detail in the first Danganronpa that means, if you do certain Free Time events, Naegi's probably going to end up blaming himself for the events of the second chapter. This fic grew out of that thought!

I really struggled with which names to use for this fic! Naegi has always been Naegi in my head, but there are other characters heavily involved who I think of by their given names, rather than their family names. I ended up going with the conventions of the official English release, referring to everyone by given name, but I can't tell you how many times I accidentally wrote 'Naegi' instead of 'Makoto'.


Title: a little too late
Fandom: Danganronpa
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,200
Summary: It's the second case. Makoto pieces some things together.



“Chihiro was carrying a blue track jacket in a duffel bag,” Celeste says. “When I asked her if she was planning to exercise, she seemed surprised. She asked how I knew.”

There’s a cold prickling creeping down Makoto’s spine, spreading from the back of his neck.

Chihiro was planning to exercise. That’s why she was in the locker room. She was seen preparing to exercise, just before Night Time. And then she was killed.

She said something about this to Makoto, right? She said she wanted to train. She wanted a strong guy to give her advice.

He said she should talk to Mondo.

He stammers a thank-you to Celeste, walks out of the warehouse with his head swimming.

Chihiro was killed by a single blow from a heavy object. Whoever killed her, they had muscle. Someone like Sakura, or Hina, or—

He needs to speak to Mondo. It’s hard to think clearly; it’s hard to pin down where he needs to go. Mondo is... he should be guarding the body, right?

He can’t pretend he’s not scared. Someone killed Chihiro, killed her sadistically, strung her up by the neck, and—

—and if it was Mondo, if Mondo starts to think that Makoto suspects him—

But he wants to believe in Mondo. When Chihiro was upset, Mondo was kind to her. It’s hard to picture the same guy doing something like this.

And it can’t be Mondo, because—

Because then it’s Makoto’s fault.

Makoto swallows, blinks back tears. Tries to breathe.

It can’t have been Mondo. He couldn’t have got into the girls’ locker room. Right?

-
“Hey,” Makoto says. “Can I – can I talk to you? In private?”

Something flickers across Mondo’s face. Something nervous, maybe, or angry, and neither of those feels like it can be a good sign. Makoto can picture Chihiro standing in front of Mondo just like this, asking if he’d be her training partner.

“I have to guard the body, right?” Mondo asks.

“You want me to take over?” Hina asks, breaking off her conversation with Sakura. “I’ve just been hanging around in here anyway. It... doesn’t feel right, just leaving Chihiro like this, y’know?”

Mondo looks at Chihiro’s body for a moment. His expression helps to reassure Makoto, a little. He can’t have done this, right? It always seemed like he and Chihiro got along.

“Fine,” Mondo says. “Let’s talk.”

-
Makoto pokes his head into the boys’ locker room, takes a quick look around. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s here.

“We’re going in there?” Mondo asks. He doesn’t sound happy about it. It’s not that private, Makoto guesses; it’s right next to the scene of the crime, so people might come in to investigate.

“I guess we could go to my bedroom?” Makoto doesn’t like spending time in there when he doesn’t have to, though; he just ends up thinking about Sayaka. “Or yours?”

A few seconds go by. They feel long, somehow.

Mondo shakes his head, pushes past him into the locker room. “Forget it. It’s fine. Let’s just...”

He tails off, looking at a stain on the carpet. Makoto quietly follows him in, closes the door.

Mondo seems pretty on edge in here. Glancing uncomfortably around. He almost seems more tense than he did in the room with the corpse in it.

“You okay?” Makoto asks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Mondo says. “What do you want?”

“I—” He just has to say it. “I was wondering if maybe you saw Chihiro. Last night.”

“What the fuck?” Mondo demands. “No, why the hell would I?”

It makes sense that he’d be defensive. It makes sense that he’d be defensive, right? The question means he’s being suspected; anyone would react badly. It doesn’t have to mean he has anything to hide.

“I had a talk with Chihiro,” Makoto says. “Not—”

He falters. Not long before she died, he was going to say. He first met Chihiro a handful of days ago; he guesses every interaction they’ve had was soon before she died. It’s a strange thought.

“Not long ago,” he says, instead. “She said she was looking for someone to help her get stronger.”

“Yeah, but...” There’s a weird desperation to Mondo’s expression, his voice; it’s making Makoto’s stomach feel like it’s folding up very small. “That could’ve been anyone, right? It – it would’ve been a girl, she was in the girls’ locker room. You asked any of them about this?”

Makoto takes in a deep breath. “I told her she should talk to you.”

Mondo’s hand slams into his throat.

Makoto’s back hits the wall. He chokes, scrabbles at Mondo’s fingers, locked tight around his – fuck, he’s being lifted up by his neck—

“It’s your fucking fault this happened,” Mondo snarls into his face.

Suspended by his neck. Just like Chihiro.

Makoto’s head is spinning, his body trying to hyperventilate and just not getting any air. He can barely see, tears blurring his vision. Is he going to die here?

“Fuck,” Mondo mutters.

The grip on Makoto’s neck loosens; he thinks for a moment he’s going to fall, but there are arms around him, lowering him carefully down to the floor. He’s choking and shaking and crying, but he’s – he’s alive, he’s going to live.

“Shit.” There’s a loud thud, something being kicked or knocked over; Makoto hasn’t found the strength to look up from the floor. “I haven’t fuckin’ learned anything.”

There’s a long pause, while Makoto struggles to get himself under control.

“You okay?” Mondo asks, eventually. “Tell me you’re not dying, man. I can’t deal with that.”

Who is Mondo? Makoto doesn’t want to see him as the ruthless murderer he pictured when he saw the crime scene. But there’s one thing he’s certain of, now.

Makoto draws in a few deep, shaking breaths. Manages to climb to his feet at last.

“You killed Chihiro.” He’s afraid of saying this; it feels like at any moment he might have a hand around his throat again. “Right?”

“Fuck.” Mondo lets a hiss of air out between his teeth. “Yeah. Obviously it was me. I’m an asshole who can’t control himself, and now that kid is dead because of my own goddamn problems.”

And because I told her to speak to you. The words sit in Makoto’s throat like shards of glass.

Can’t control himself? Chihiro was strung up by her neck and wrists. That didn’t look like a loss of control; that looked calculated.

It doesn’t feel like something Mondo would do. But how well does Makoto know him? He thought Mondo wouldn’t hurt a girl; he thought Mondo and Chihiro were friends; he thought Mondo was kind of rough around the edges, but basically a good guy.

He still wants to believe it, even with the echo of Mondo’s fingers around his throat.

Mondo let him go. Makoto suspected him; Mondo could have killed him. He didn’t. That means something, right?

“Why did you do it?” Makoto asks.

Mondo sits heavily down on the floor. It’s disconcerting for Makoto, suddenly finding himself looking down at a guy who’s always towered over him.

“The kid told me her secret,” Mondo says, not meeting Makoto’s eyes.

“Her secret?”

“The one in the envelope. The one that damn bear was threatening to spill.”

Makoto wet the bed until he was in 5th grade. That kind of secret? It couldn’t be anything on the same level, right?

“And... it was something so bad you killed her?” Makoto asks. What kind of thing would that be? He can’t even imagine it. And it’s Chihiro, maybe the sweetest person he’s ever met; how bad could her secrets be?

(Sayaka was sweet, too.)

“No.” Mondo shakes his head. “It was nothing like that, it was – you don’t get it. I didn’t kill her ’cause of her secret. I killed her because she told me.”

Makoto can’t make sense of any of this.

“You killed her,” he says, cautiously. “Because... she trusted you?”

Mondo slams a fist into the floor he’s sitting on. Swears under his breath.

Makoto takes a nervous step backwards, palms out. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“I’m a fucking coward,” Mondo says. “She told me her secret. You know how strong you have to be to just say something like that? And there I was, and I’d never been able to say a fucking thing about—” He cuts himself short. “It just pissed me off. My mind went totally blank. And I was holding the dumbbell, and—”

He kind of chokes off.

“I didn’t do any of that weird shit,” he says, after a moment. “I swear. I didn’t – crucify her, or whatever that was. I didn’t go writing messages in her blood. That’s fucked up. But... fuck, she just wanted to talk, and...”

Someone else did that? Who would – why would anyone—

Makoto really doesn’t know anyone in this school at all, does he?

But he was right, he guesses, to think that Mondo wouldn’t treat the body like that. It feels like there’s some kind of reassurance in that, at least.

“What was the secret?” Makoto asks.

“No,” Mondo says. “I made a promise. I fuckin’ swore I wouldn’t say anything. That means something to me. And...” He closes his eyes for a moment; it looks like he’s in pain. Shakes his head. “It’s the only thing I can do for her.”

There are still unanswered questions, but things are starting to take some kind of shape in Makoto’s mind. The crime scene may have looked deliberate, but he’s read the Monokuma file, he knows the cause of death. A blow to the head with a blunt object. One blow.

“You didn’t mean to kill her,” he says.

Mondo shrugs. “That ain’t worth shit when she’s dead.”

“I think it’s worth something,” Makoto says. “It’s – it’s awful, what happened. But I’m glad to know...”

He hesitates. I’m glad to know I didn’t send my friend off to someone who wanted to kill her. It’s still my fault. But it was an accident, or something like it, and that’s better, right? That has to be better.

“I’m glad to know I wasn’t wrong,” he says at last. “To, y’know, to think of you as a friend.”

Mondo flops onto his back. After a moment, Makoto sits on the floor next to him, hesitantly.

“I really screwed this up,” Mondo mutters, looking up at the ceiling.

Makoto can’t really deny that. He doesn’t say anything.

“Kid probably thought I killed her because of her secret.” Mondo presses his hands over his face. “God. I can’t explain things now. It wouldn’t make things better, anyway.”

Makoto thinks about putting a hand on Mondo’s arm, his shoulder, his wrist. Decides against it. “I’m sure she knows you didn’t want to hurt her.”

“Hard thing to fucking know when someone’s swinging a dumbbell into your skull. Don’t try to make me feel better about this.”

He can’t say anything to that, either.

“This is gonna kill Taka,” Mondo says, after a moment. He looks at Makoto at last. “You’ll look after him, right?”

Makoto goes cold. This means Mondo is going to be executed. He hadn’t even thought about that.

“Can’t we do something?” he asks. “Like... hide you before the trial, or...?”

“It’s fine,” Mondo says. “I did this. Might as well man up and take the consequences head-on.”

“It – it won’t help Chihiro if you die! I know she’d want you to live!”

“You’re probably right.” Mondo half-shrugs, as well as he can while lying on the floor. “But I don’t see a way out. I guess this is just another way I’m betraying her.”

A moment passes.

“C’mon,” Mondo says, climbing to his feet. “Now that you’ve got a confession, I guess we don’t need to worry about preserving the crime scene or whatever. Let’s get Chihiro down from that thing. Makes me sick to see her like that.”

“I mean... we still don’t know who did that, right?” Makoto asks, standing up as well. “I feel like maybe we need to find that out. What if they’re dangerous?”

“Fine,” Mondo says. “I’ll help you look. Might as well do something useful with my last few hours. But... I know I don’t get to make requests, but I want to at least see the kid’s body treated better before I go out.”

Makoto nods; he’s hoping for that, too. He turns for the door.

“Hey.” Mondo catches hold of his hand. It makes Makoto tense up; he doesn’t think Mondo is a bad person, exactly, but he guesses he’s still kind of scared around him.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Mondo says, holding his gaze. “I was talking shit earlier. This is all on me.”

Makoto swallows; it’s difficult, suddenly, a little painful. He can feel tears creeping into his eyes, for a lot of reasons.

“I don’t want you to die,” he says.

“Yeah, well, that’s on me too.” Mondo lets his hand fall. “Sorry.”

There’s a moment’s silence between them.

“At least I know I’m not gonna wipe you guys out at the trial,” Mondo says. “Beat the fucking bear for me, yeah?”

Makoto nods, hesitantly at first, and then with more conviction. “I will.”