Maybe in a better world, Kyrie Ushiromiya wouldn’t have killed someone.

It wasn’t like there were no chances to turn back. Plenty of chances were there, she could have stopped anytime, but she didn’t.

Ever since the game started, she analyzed the situation and got to a conclusion: to win the game, you had to strike first, or strike last. She considered striking before anyone else did, taking advantage of everyone’s shock and surprise to get away with it, but she decided to wait and see what’d happen once someone died. She needed more information.

Weeks passed. Every time, someone committed some atrocity and she listened carefully to the trials. She saw mistakes, thought of ways to counter them, and slowly formed plans in her head, ways to not make the same mistakes everyone else had done so far.

Paradoxically, waiting could have been her undoing. She was sure she wasn’t going to die – no way she’d put herself in danger – but if someone else was successful before she could kill, it’d all be for nothing. Her undoing almost came from an unexpected source, though:

Bonding.

Sure, there weren’t that many people she considered reliable or friends. She could have gone on a rampage anytime, if that could lead to her survival. However, there were a few she’d actually hesitate for. Imagine that! They had to be extraordinary! Elda, Sayaka, Alex…there was something about those three Kyrie grew to like and actually support.

The more time passed, the more hesitant she felt. When no new floor was opened she knew it was time:

I must make my move.

Obviously, it had to be done in any other day except Friday. Nobody would expect it to happen some other day. But she continued hesitating. Everyone gave her a reason to not go ahead and actually do it. There could be secret passages, Yuri had said. The ghosts may have found something, Elda had said. Alex and Sayaka’s conversations gave her a little bit of hope. Kyrie discovered she’d like all that to be true. For once in her life, she wasn’t 100% willing to take murder as the prime solution for any situation.

But nothing happened. Nothing was found, the ghosts had nothing.

“It's true. But if you want to allow yourself to be upset, I shall be here for you.”

Elda had said that. For a moment Kyrie froze. Kyrie felt no sadness for the death of her family, she held no intentions to go get Ange and take care of her. She was a free woman. But Elda’s offer…the constant kindness from someone she knew could snap her neck if she wanted was puzzling, but she found it was welcome.

“I...I'm not sure...what to say. Marker-san, I...”

Kyrie started saying. For a moment she considered confessing how she wanted to get out no matter what. She could even use Ange as a convenient excuse.

“I plan to kill someone” she could have said. Elda would have let go of her hand, staggering back with that weird way she had of making her eyes look like a cat’s.

“You idiot, what’s that supposed to mean?” maybe Elda would have said. At that point, Kyrie would have told her reasoning and finish it with…

“Convince me I shouldn’t be the killer this time”

Elda would have managed to do it.

But Kyrie said none of that. Instead she looked down, actually feeling a pang of guilt. “Thank you for the offer. I guess maybe someday I could accept it, but for the moment I shall hold myself back. It's for the better.” It was too bad Elda would die, but it wasn’t like there was any other option.

-ooooo-

Days passed and she still hadn’t done any progress in killing someone. True, she had thought about it, but she hadn’t done anything to make it happen. She hated that, she hated she was hesitating. Most of these people were strangers! Who cared about them?

On Thursday night, she knew she couldn’t keep procrastinating. She made the ball with some clay, she set up the mechanisms in the library, she frayed the cable and left it where the water would touch it. Everything was ready. Impersonal, with nothing that’d point of her. It’d happen in front of everyone. The victim would be at random. It truly wouldn’t be linked to her. Kyrie finished the trail of red paint, watching her work with appraising eye. It was all perfect.

There were only a few hours left before morning arrived, but Kyrie didn’t sleep. She felt both excited and somewhat remorseful, wondering who’d fall victim to her mechanism. Just in case, she set two deadly traps, in case the machete didn’t work. That’d work.

She kind of hoped someone else would take action. Whole worlds were at stake, surely someone would be enough of a bleeding heart to save them by committing a murder. In that case, she’d have more time to think, a reason to back off even for a week longer.

Nobody did.

Jericho’s announcement sounded. Right, the timer death. Kyrie went and watched with grim expression what happened. Hibiki’s death was awful, but Kyrie didn’t care about that. Over and over, she thought:

That could have been me.

It could have been her. In eight hours, if nothing happened, someone else would be chosen. It could be her.

She couldn’t let it happen. It was her last chance.

Grim, Kyrie exited the foyer and, with a quick move, she went to the stairwell, taking out of her coat the stun grenade she always had with her ever since she had received them, and threw it to the stairs, running to the closest place to pretend it hadn’t been her. The grenade exploded, attracting attention.

The plan went without a single problem. What Kyrie didn’t expect was who’d fall victim to it. Sayaka…of all people, she was the one who noticed the talisman. For once in her life Kyrie found she felt genuinely distraught for someone else – almost as distraught as when she found out Battler was her son. When Alex moved to get to Sayaka, Kyrie tried to stop her. “Stop!” she had yelled, trying to grab Alex.

Two of the three people she genuinely liked were gone, she had killed them. For a moment all she could do was stare in horror at the bodies. Did it really matter? They’d have died, anyway. She was going to get away with the murder no matter what, they’d have died, executed. This was no different. Telling herself that over and over, Kyrie left while Elda lashed out at everyone, furious, and went to the shooting range, eyeing the crossbows, thinking how to take one into the trial room with her.

She had gone and done it: she murdered someone, no, two people that were generally beloved, both by dead and alive. She had to accept that happened.

She had to escape or die trying.

While she packed as many crossbow bolts as she could in her pocket, she wondered if she’d have to kill Elda, if she was ever found out.

“Whatever. I’m the evil culprit who killed two defenseless girls. If I have to add a couple people more to the list of casualties, then so be it” she murmured, cold.

If only this had been a better world.