Chapter Text
What do social workers do?
- Social workers help individuals, families, and groups restore or enhance their capacity for social functioning, and work to create societal conditions that support communities in need.
- The practice of social work requires knowledge of human development and behavior, of social, economic and cultural institutions, and of the interaction of all these factors.
- Social workers help people of all backgrounds address their own needs through psychosocial services and advocacy.
- Social workers help people overcome some of life’s most difficult challenges: poverty, discrimination, abuse, addiction, physical illness, divorce, loss, unemployment, educational problems, disability, and mental illness. They help prevent crises and counsel individuals, families, and communities to cope more effectively with the stresses of everyday life.
-National Association for Social Workers
Your shoes tapped like a snare drum against broken, scattered tiles, barely audible above the bassy groan of metal machinery lumbering at your footstep. You gulped, swinging your arms with every corner you turned and every slip of your foot on the wet moss leeching across the floor. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding from the moment you woke up dazed in a locker, nor when you realized you were alone in a classroom covered in barbed wire, nor when a mechanical monster lunged to grab you in its claws like a plushie in an arcade game.
The ground was too slick; in one motion, you tripped and collapsed into a puddle, unable to hold back a whimper of fear. By the time your feet found purchase on the ground to push you forward, you could feel the pond water soaked through your shirt. You never liked this uniform anyways. You had advocated for its ban in front of the school board one year ago, proudly arguing the financial burden it caused on families who could not afford the school-mandated, school-branded slacks, derby shoes, button-downs, and seasonal overwear (including vests, blazers, and jackets). In this moment, however, you couldn’t care less about its price; you ripped apart the buttons on your jacket and let it float behind you. A chill concentrated on the water soaked along your chest and stomach. It did little to soothe the burning in your lungs.
You skidded to a halt upon seeing a final set of doors. You didn’t chance a look over your shoulder; you knew seeing it at your tail would paralyze you. Instead, you took two jumps forward, slamming your shoulder into the door and spilling into the room, curling your body against the ground. You shivered against your will, yet death did not come.
“H-hey… You fell pretty hard! Are you okay?”
It was a voice—a girl’s voice. Caught under the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears, you didn’t notice the lack of mechanized footsteps behind you, nor the excited chatter in front of you. Lifting your head from the ground, you were startled to find there was not just one girl in front of you, but an entire class full of students, all in different uniforms.
“Did you get chased by that monster, too!?”
“What… are they? What do they want with us?”
“Do you want me to check on what’s happening?”
“H-huh? No way! Are you crazy!?” You pushed yourself to your feet; with a wince, you shook your wrists, attempting feebly to shake off the sting from the scrapes on your hands. The boy who made the suggestion frowned meekly up at you and shrunk back into himself. You almost felt bad reprimanding his efforts to help, but the adrenaline pumping through you cried for safety, not heroics. “I mean, we’re not even safe in here, right? We should keep moving.” You looked back at the gym doors, latched closed by a simple lever handle.
A girl with a honeyed complexion and ashen hair stared at you owlishly. Her words lifted at the ends like a playful song. “Huhhh? But there is no other place to go!”
Another girl with long, dark pigtails cast her gaze down, her stare as hard as the waxed floor beneath you. “They could have easily followed us inside. I think they wanted to gather us for a reason.”
“Why did they bring us here?” A tall boy with a shag of olive green hair rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. The muscles of his arms strained the sleeves of his uniform jacket. “We’re all just high schoolers, right?”
A boy in a loose sweater and looser tie scanned over the crowd, his low, warm voice humming thoughtfully. You felt your heart seize upon seeing his face, glamorous like a celebrity. You hadn't expected to see him here, yet seeing him made everything fall into place. “And that makes seventeen. Seventeen high schoolers.”
Seventeen high schoolers...
A flash of heat flared in your chest, chilling your skin as it dissipated. You turned away, pretending to take a moment to think, hoping no one saw the look of terror cloud your features. You imagined her face and realized she must be standing among the crowd right in front of you. This is it. There’s no turning back now. Remember… you wanted this.
“Okayyyyy,” a voice sang cheerily from a speaker, “quiet everyone! Shimmy down, shimmy down!”
“No no no, it’s simmer down.”
“Kyahahahaha! Thanks for bear-ing with us!”
That playful laughter bordering between whimsy and mockery locked you in place. You knew as soon as you looked, you would be paralyzed. You knew they’d have you grasped in their claws. Still, the shrieks of your classmates willed you to open your eyes. If you wouldn’t face them for yourself, you would for them. You wanted this.
Slowly, you turned to look over your shoulder and attempted to reign in the look of fear on your face. You needed them to think you were frightened, not terrified. You took a step back near the boy who offered to look outside the gym. The "Exisals" jeered and tittered with eagerness to play as though this were some sort of game. When Monokuma sprung into place—center stage as always—and announced the school killing life to come, you bowed your head to the floor, staring down not in despair, but in hope. Please, please, let it be how I planned.
Your outfits leapt from the Exisals into your hands; you had to clench every muscle not to breathe a sigh of relief. Taking a moment to look cautious, you shed your clothes, too nervous to be embarrassed, and rather glad to be rid of the shirt soaked in pond water. Your eyes traveled down your new clothes—possibly the last outfit you would ever wear.
They had given you a pair of black leather tassel loafers. Your ankles were left exposed underneath the hem of your black 7/8 trousers. Hanging loose over your shoulders and skirting around your hips was an oversized sweater, the color of pale lemon flesh. On your right sleeve, the outline of a human heart was embroidered with red silk. It bled a small line of red stitching down the seam to the cuff. The sweater’s top button hung down at your sternum; the white button-down underneath was exposed, closed at the neck. Small black polka dots spread over the poplin. Your shirt cuffs and sweater sleeves hung low, helping to hide the shaking in your hands. Still, your fingertips were exposed; you gasped when you felt the warmth of touch upon them.
“Hey,” a quiet voice whispered. You glanced behind you to the boy from before, dressed in… what looked like a casual, everyday tattered straitjacket with a checkered bandana tied around his neck. “This is crazy, right? I mean… Can you believe we were really picked?”
His eyes were just as wide as when you burst into the room, but his nervous tight-lipped frown had disappeared. In its place was a wide smile, spread so far it pinched his cheeks and pushed the limits of his skin, so far you knew it wasn’t enough to fully express his joy and marvel at being chosen as a participant of this killing game.
You felt your stomach twist and coil itself. You knew everyone who participated had to audition to be part of this killing game—that’s how you became a member yourself. In your relief that you had gotten the role you desired, you hadn’t prepared yourself to witness the delight of everyone else. Excited chatter filled the gym; it reminded you of home, the last day of school before vacation when no one cared about finishing the lesson anymore, not even the teacher.
With squeals and whoops of joy, people spun around to show off their outfits, gossip about possible crushes, and giggle over potential killings. You made yourself smile, too, for whomever might be watching you. “It’s… amazing, right? We must be like, the Ultimate Lucky Students.”
“Nyeheehee! I know, out of thousands of applications.” He stood much taller than earlier; it seemed the spirit of the game helped him grow a few inches. He held out a pale, lithe hand. “Well, congrats! I know we’ll just have to introduce ourselves again later, but I can’t help myself! My name’s Kokichi Oma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader.” His voice was warm and low; it crackled like fire eating wood.
“Ultimate Supreme Leader…?” You hesitated to grab his hand, but he took it firmly. “Um, that’s quite the title.”
Nearby, a girl was leaning close to a boy in a dark outfit with white pinstripes. She nabbed his hat and placed it atop her blond hair. She laughed merrily at his face, flushed pink to match her sweater.
Kokichi’s smile creased his wide, dark eyes. “Go big or go home, right? This is actually my first time auditioning. I wanted to make sure they noticed me. I intend to be one of the characters the audience remembers in another 50 seasons. And, you know… with that kind of title, they’re not gonna kill me off so quick, right?”
His hand was still squeezing yours long after you ceased shaking it. It almost felt like he was pulling you towards him, pulling you down to look up at him. You hummed nervously, wondered if you had imagined his meekness from mere minutes ago.
“You know… I have a feeling that’ll be the case.”
“It’s a shame, isn’t it? That we’ll never know what the audience really thinks of us. If our death is gonna be one of the cool ones or the lame duds.” Finally, he let go of your hand, stretching up his arms and lacing his fingers behind his head. His hair fanned out in curls like question marks. “What about you? Maybe… the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s Assistant?”
You laughed despite your nerves. You looked down at your shirt, pointing at the polka dots spread across your chest. “I think we’re a little mismatched. Shouldn’t I be wearing checkers as your Ultimate Assistant?”
“Nah, it’s complementary. I think we’d look good together.”
Your lashes fluttered as your eyes flitted over his face, trying to find some hidden meaning—but he stared you down, intense and unwavering. His smile widened just enough to show a glimmer of teeth. Behind you, you heard someone cooing. (“Ultimate Robot, huh? Well, since I’m gonna be the Ultimate Mechanic, maybe they’ll have me pry you open and test your parts.”)
You cursed everyone for their fame-seeking, lust-filled brains, and yourself for warming at the attention of the “Ultimate Supreme Leader”.
“H-ha, as if… You know the really cool ones don’t get romance plots.”
“The really cool ones, huh?” You glanced up to see a new gleam in his eye and a kittenish curl in his smile.
“...” You cleared your throat and lifted your chin, hoping the warmth in your face wasn’t showing. “U-um. My name is Y/N L/N… by the way. I’m the Ultimate Social Worker.”
The playful smirk dropped from his face, leaving only curious eyes. “... Eh? The Ultimate Social Worker? This was your chance to live out your fantasy, you know?”
“Hey, being a social worker is pretty cool!” You crossed your arms and felt the stitches of your embroidered heart under your fingertips. “You do all kinds of things as a social worker. You save lives!”
The bravado cracked to reveal a hint of the nervous person you had first seen in the gym. His shoulders slumped, head lolling to the side. “Uhh… No offense, but are you trying to die early?”
It wasn’t kind, but it was true. Rarely did the boring ones make it to the end; when they did, they usually had some standout personality or character arc that made them shine. Still, you felt yourself rooted firmly in the ground, confident in the fact that you placed yourself right where you belonged.
“Actually, I’m gonna be the one to stop this killing game.”
“Ohhhh—wow! I thought I was being bold, but you really went for it, huh?” Kokichi leaned in with closed fists and eyes sparkling like he was being gifted a new toy. “Are you sure they’re gonna give you that role, though?”
“Well… no, I’m not.” Your gaze drifted over his shoulder, across the faces of your classmates. Standing among you were heroes and killers, archetypes to root for and spite against. They were all smiling, all dreamy-eyed, speculating about their impending doom…
except her. Standing in the corner, taking refuge in the shadow of an Exisal, was a girl with blue hair and glasses writing in a notebook. Her eyes darted between each conversation, hand scribbling furiously. Your attention snapped back to Kokichi in an attempt to hide your prying eyes. You felt nausea gripping firm at your stomach, begging you to kill her now or run away while you had the chance.
Swiftly, you grabbed Kokichi’s arm, stepping close. He jumped at the contact, but his eyes were wide open with curiosity.
“I think we all can make our own roles if we try hard enough. Don’t you?” You didn’t wait for him to answer; taking another step, you leaned close to his ear, your nose brushing against the lazy curls of his hair. You whispered softly, feeling the heat from his ear on your lips. “Kokichi, I need you to make a scene. Right now. Distract everyone.”
You pulled away, your heart pounding, eyes bearing down into his. There was a pink tint on his cheeks, rosy against the dark purple of his eyes.
“You… What are you doing?”
“That’s not important,” you huffed, trying not to look at her. You wanted so badly to see if she had noticed your stare, but you couldn’t risk it.
“You have big plans too, don’t you?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hey… What did you mean earlier? That you’re going to stop the killing game?”
“Now, Kokichi!”
Finally, his gaze broke from you. He took a quick glance around the room before turning on his heel, running to the feet of one of the Exisals. You released your breath, trying to slow your heart with oxygen, willing yourself to remember his willingness to help you.
“Wowwww, this thing really is huge! I wonder if it’ll feel like a Gundam!?”
His bravado really was dazzling. After rolling up his sleeves, he took a leap of faith onto the leg of the Exisal, skittering like a lizard on the side of a house. You heard the whooping and cheering of your soon-to-be classmates; the laughter almost distracted you from her, watching his performance from the corner, chewing on her pen with wide eyes.
“Heh, you’re one crazy kid.”
“Nyeh, I wanna play with one, too!”
“Oy, kid, hands off the props!” The yellow bear bristled at Kokichi’s open-mouth grin, but it was no match against his will. With a decisive laugh, he grabbed the bear by the neck, flinging it out of the Exisal.
“H-hey, it’s kinda cute…!”
“Agh! Get yer dirty paws offa me!”
“Haha, I can definitely fit in here!” Kokichi cackled, planting himself in the seat with his legs hanging over the terminal.
Her face wrinkled in anger. She leaned to drop her notebook behind the foot of the pink bear’s Exisal before running into the crowd, letting faux surprise open her features.
“W-wait! Is that such a good idea?”
“Uhhhh... duh!! Team Danganronpa makes them look sooo real!”
With slow steps, you inched your way out of the crowd, rounding your way behind the Exisals. Slowly, you dropped to one knee, staring at the bright orange notebook covered in stickers of different anime characters. You clutched it greedily, allowing one more glance behind you before looking down at the notes.
It was a simple notebook-probably from the dollar store. The pen was also cheap and inconsequential. The stickers looked unique, perhaps bought from a fan convention. It almost looked like a real high school girl’s notebook. You wouldn’t imagine such plain materials would contain the despair scribbled on the margins. Then again, that was her motif, wasn’t it?
Trial 1
babysitter (assassin) kills detective, frames cosplayer
detective ♡ pianist, pianist kills survivor, detective discovers pianist is killer (ಥ﹏ಥ) no gf
Trial 2
bug gentleman ♡ maid, tennis kills maid, bug turns dark and serious
maid kills tennis player, make him cool and edgy >:3c make her… prime minister!?!? keep bug innocent for now
Trial 3
anthropologist kills artist + aikido, crazy incest serial killer ← still good
Trial 4
leader tricks inventor, kills social worker
robot ♡ inventor, leader tricks bug (innocence lost), kills inventor ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ no gf 4 robot
Trial 5
leader blackmails survivor, survivor kills magic + pianist
assassin ♡ astronaut, social worker ♡ leader, leader kills self and astronaut, no bfs ( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴
Trial 6
big reveal!!! (ᗒᗨᗕ)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
The notebook slipped from your fingers and spilled onto the floor. Your heart was pounding in your skull; it felt like someone was trying to beat the information into your brain, forcing you to remember. Pianist kills survivor. Maid kills tennis player. Anthropologist kills artist and aikido. Bug kills inventor. Leader kills self and astronaut.
You whipped your head around the leg of the Exisal. A girl in a maid’s costume had her arms outstretched. Kokichi was wailing, tears pouring down his face. Apparently he was too scared to jump down into her arms. A guy was cheering him on with a bold raised fist. His jacket parted to reveal a galaxy pattern underneath. A girl with goggles on her head was tugging on the sleeve of the muscular boy from earlier; he had an empty bug box slung around his chest now. The blond girl was laughing with the shy boy, hat back on the proper head, her hand grabbing fondly at his shoulder. You felt your breath shorten as you looked around, willing yourself to see classmates, not victims. She was in the middle, cheeks puffed with frustration, hands on her hips. Slowly, you rose to your feet and weaved back into the crowd, repeating a strange mantra to yourself. Pianist kills survivor. Maid kills tennis player. Anthropologist kills artist and aikido…
When your eye caught Kokichi’s, the wellspring of tears dried instantly and a bright grin formed over his face. Planting one foot on the terminal of the Exisal, he jumped forward, diving right into your chest. You barely had any breath to lose, but it was knocked from you as you were knocked from your feet.
“Whoa!” You felt a few pairs of arms grab and push you upright. Your arms windmilled in front of you before finding leverage on Kokichi’s back, clutching at his shirt for balance. He drew away from your chest, hands squishing your cheeks.
“Ah, my hero! My hope, my savior from despair! I almost died back there!”
You heard a few giggles of delight. It was so amusing to laugh about this killing game, wasn’t it? It was all some funny game, right? The inventor laughed heartily, a laugh both too mature and too childish for her age.
“Keep it in your pants, ya virgin!”
The girl in the maid’s uniform laughed into her hand, a playful smile on her face. “You should be careful not to fall for each other, lest something happen.”
social worker ♡ leader, leader kills self
You didn’t need a reminder; you already knew what was going to happen. This boy in your arms was written to die, yet here he was now, breathing and smiling and warm and alive. Had she written that you’d fall in love with him because he flirted with you once? Had she written for him to die based on that one conversation?
Sick bitch. Yet, the show had retained worldwide popularity for 52 seasons for a reason. Its claim to fame was the painful exploitation of human connection. Maybe in that one conversation, she could sense something between you two—something that compelled you to ask for his help, to hold him in your arms and marvel at the mere fact of his living body. You dug your nails in his back and pulled him close, brushing your lips against his ear.
“I will save you,” you whispered. “I promise.” You drew back slightly and planted a big kiss on his cheek, surprised at how soft his skin was under your lips. A wave of crooning rose from the crowd and you punctuated the performance with a wet smack as you released him.
“Why not fall for each other now? This is the only time we can actually have a kissing scene!”
Mercifully, you let Kokichi out of your embrace, silently hoping that she was watching and buying this shtick. More laughter sounded, but you didn’t know if it was at your joke or Kokichi’s face, red and twitching, unsure of what expression he should be making. You caught a glimpse of her as she was turning away, just enough to catch a satisfied smirk on her face. You let your hands drop to your sides, fingers curling into fists, the skin on your knuckles straining like leather.
“Now, now, children … It’s time we get this show on the road! Who’s ready to start the killing game!? It’s time for your first memory!”
You closed your eyes, trying to shut out the peals of excitement from your classmates. Pianist kills survivor. Maid kills tennis player. Anthropologist kills artist and aikido. Bug kills inventor. Leader kills self and astronaut. He helped you; he saw through you. Please, please remember.