hey guys!! this blog hasn’t been active much since the end of Doubt Academy 2: White, but i plan on making it indie again!!
until i can get the mojo to make new sprites, i will be using katsuyas sprites that i made at the beginning of the game… aka super old sprites SO
ttthats about all i have to say!! other than that i run a lot of blogs so i might not be the most active person ever LMAO…..
Brain threatening to burst, the journalist rubbed his temples for most of the trial, focusing hard on the words being shot at him like bullets. He could feel himself breaking down, falling. And, in an instant, after at least an hour of silence, Katsuya ripped his eyes open and his hands away from his face, arm jutting out to point straight at the astrologist who’s aim was focused directly on him.
His harsh words no longer stung him. Acidic tones felt natural, sliding off of his tongue. Kindness did not matter right now, not when he was being questioned like this. Only force.
"Naoto. I did not kill Hidehisa Maruhashi. My tone may be harsh, but to me, your reasoning sounds like you’re just desperate to accuse someone. It sounds hasty, childish even. I know we’re all aching to get out of here, but hold your damn horses.”
Katsuya lets his arm fall back to his side, expression firm and eyes narrowed.
"I am drawn to Oshirou-kun because he had hope. I never wanted him to lose it. In fact, when things started to fall apart for me, he gave me hope. I never thought he would lose it. I.. I just can’t be around him right now.”
His expression falters for a moment, a tint of pain in his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to go right back to setting his glare dead on Naoto. Katsuya furrowed his brows, clenching and releasing his fists repeatedly. He smiled and let out a wry laugh, mood abruptly changing as he gave the astrologist his next point.
"I also have worn no jackets going more than four or five inches past my waist in the duration of our time here. The only one I have worn resembling a suit is on my shoulders right now and it doesn’t even come close to coming down to my knees. I don’t believe I remember owning any that go down so far, either. You should know that.”
"I haven’t fallen for a single motive yet, Ueyama-kun. What makes you think I’d kill now?"
frcik i accidentally answered naotos question privately but…
1. yes u can look in katsuyas room
2. im not gonna post today or tomorrow im really sorry i have a lot of stuff i need to do and i only logged in for a second to post this
|imagine all recording equipment malfunctions around katsuya. for he is slenderman|
(Sunrise Station -> Katsuya’s Dorm -> Eiji’s Dorm)
The journalist’s interests, however piqued, were definitely not strong enough for him to consider the motive. A single thought loomed in the back of his mind like dark clouds on the horizon, and that was that a certain somebody would actually take it seriously. Many of his comrades had fallen into the cold hands of despair. He refused to do such. As long as he remained alive, even if everyone else around him died, he still had a task at hand that he had to complete.
Wandering back to his dormroom, the backs of his loafers sounded with a series of “clacks” against the tile floor. Unlocking and opening his door, he began to walk in, only to hear the crunch of paper under his foot. Backing up, Katsuya gingerly took the letter at his feet, prying it open to read its contents.
The clacking started again. Faster. Coming to a screeching halt in front of Eiji’s door. A letter being dropped to the floor. A keycard being shoved into a door. Running water.
Katsuya slammed the bathroom door open, pausing at the sight in front of his eyes. Eiji Oshirou, the Super High School Level Show Host, laying nearly naked in the overflowing tub in his bathroom, smoky red swirling from his submerged wrists.
Panic. Do something, Katsuya! Don’t let someone else die on your watch!
The journalist felt adrenaline pumping through his veins, the only thing giving him the strength to pull Eiji’s limp body out of the tub and onto the damp bathroom floor. The only thing giving him the strength to not scream or cry. The only thing giving him the strength to tie two of the rags in Eiji’s bathrooms tighty over his wrists and apply pressure to them.
“MONOMI! I NEED YOUR HELP! MONOMI!”
It was the only other thing he could think of. He could hardly hear himself screaming over his thoughts and the sound of running water. Everything was loud to him. Katsuya could hear his heart thumping like drums in his ears. Was it even any use? He could already be dead. He wasn’t supposed to die like this. He was supposed to get out alive like Katsuya had promised him. He did, right?
Why was Eiji making him break his promises?
Eiji noticed Hisa as he made his way to the room. He turned his head as the trapese artist greeted him, one arm wrapped tightly around Katsuya’s hand. He hadn’t said a thing to Eiji and the same could be said for Tomiko. He had broken down in front of them and no one could say a damned thing.
As Hisa stood there, apologizing, Eiji looked lost, as if he were a child in a mall who had just lost his parents. Where was he? His mom was really dead, wasn’t she? It hurt so much damn it. So what would an apology do for him right now? Here he was, out doing the best he could for everyone…and the universe decided to shit on his life in the form of this bit of information.
…No apologies could change what he found. He was too far gone. Too far struck down to do much of anything.
How could such a thing even be his fault? Still, he said it freely as the hand he held the article in slid to the floor, towards Hidehisa. He looked at the boy who was trying to hard to apologize. He would forgive him of course, if he didn’t feel too emotionally broken to comprehend a thing.
Katsuya knew Eiji was falling apart. Yet he didn’t know how to help. It was pathetic.
All he could do was sit with him. He rested his free hand in the show host’s hair, running it down the back of his head and down his neck, going back up and repeating again.
"Oshirou-kun, how could this have been your fault? … I think it would be best if we left this room, don’t you think?"
The journalist gulped down the knot in his throat, wetting his lips nervously. The least he could do was get Eiji out of here. There had to be somewhere else they could look here; something else they could do that would help him. If there was one person out of everyone he absolutely could not afford losing hope, it was him. He began to walk, pulling the show host’s hand roughly.
"Oshriou-kun. Kawasaki-san. Come on, we need to leave. Maruhashi-san, you can come too. We’re going somewhere else."