Guess Who's Going On An Amasai Writing Binge

Guess who's going on an amasai writing binge

Me

@amasaiweek day 3: family/forgiveness

*sigh* alright here we go

Tw for: knives/scalpels, blood, death/dead bodies, literally the whole thing is angst so look out

Lots of spoilers for @kagazuly 's beta au fic!! Don't read if you haven't gotten past chapter 3!!

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There was a blade pressed against Shuichi's throat.

It had all happened so quickly. He had gone to check on the medic in the warehouse, and-

And there was a hand on his wrist, and a sudden falling, and a weight on his chest so that he could just barely breathe if he made his breaths shallow enough. And there was the sharp, bitter sting of the knife at his throat.

Shuichi was going to die, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. All because of- he looked up at his killer's face- Rantaro?

Rantaro?

But-

But he was our leader, the person most dedicated to ending the game, the violinist thought. We trusted him more than we trusted ourselves and each other.

It was all an act, then, huh? He got us to trust him, and now he's going to kill me and escape, probably.

He looked up at the green-haired man's face again. His eyes were wild, feral, as if he was driven by instinct rather than his morals. An idea came to Shuichi. Could... Monokuma have brought back the Despair Disease? No, I'd think that repeating the same motive twice would be too boring for Monokuma... Then, did Rantaro have it all this time since looking after the patients, and managed to fool even the mastermind into thinking he didn't have it?

The blade pressed closer to Shuichi's neck, and he felt warm blood slide down onto the floor beneath him.

This was not the Rantaro he knew.

Memories of the previous trial came flooding to him, of Himiko's dismembered body, the blood spilling in a scarlet puddle on the tile, stained weapons scattered around, Angie's crazed face when the others figured out she had the Bloodlust Disease. The man above Shuichi looked like that now, ruined by his own Bloodlust Disease.

He was going to die.

Shuichi was going to die.

Hesitantly, he looked the medic in the eyes. "R-Rantaro?"

Time seemed to stop for a moment.

Rantaro's breathing slowed. Shuichi felt the blade slip away from him, and the medic put what Shuichi could now see was a scalpel in his pocket.

Rantaro let out a sigh, shut his eyes, and stood back up, turning to face whatever he'd been doing before. He paused and, without looking back, tossed an alcohol wipe from his pocket to Shuichi.

"Sorry. I thought you were going to kill me. Use this, it'll clean up the wound, and there's plenty of bandages in my lab," he said nonchalantly.

"You... You thought I was going to kill you?!"

The blonde boy stood.

"Dont think I'm gonna forgive you that easily, Rantaro."

"Fine."

"I... I COULD HAVE DIED!!'

"If you're just going to yell at me, go work your issues out with Kiyo. I'm the medic here, not the therapist."

He turned his head to look at Shuichi.

"Besides," he said in a stern yet ominous whisper, "it's not like I havent killed anyone before."

Shuichi froze in terror. "W-Wha-"

"Even medics have to kill to survive, sometimes. War is war. I'm not the only one, either. Most of us have been the cause of another's death, in one way or another. We're all killers, Shuichi. Killers all crammed into one place, under circumstances that mean we can't help but distrust each other, no matter how much we try to tell ourselves we have allies. Reminds me of the battlefield, now that I think about it."

What... was Rantaro saying?... They couldn't... trust anyone, that was true, but...

He took a few cautious steps toward the doorway and was going to leave, when he heard the medic speak again.

"Hey, Shuichi?"

"What?"

"You said you won't forgive me, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"See what I mean?"

"What?"

"You see, Shuichi,

"There's no forgiveness on the battlefield."