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Ishimaru Kiyotaka was poised and calculated. His uniform was as white as the day he brought it and without a single wrinkle too (not to mention you could see your reflection in his boots).
That's not to say he wasn’t emotional. He was often told he "wore his heart on his sleeve," allowing himself to openly express his emotions no matter how much backlash he got for it. Sometimes he always felt like the odd one out; he felt as if his emotions were cranked up to ten times the normal amount, threatening to bubble over and spill. His classmates made that very clear when they purposely provoked and imitated as if he was a doll to laugh at, trying to push him over the edge. No matter how many nights he lied awake he never really understood why they found it so funny, but he got used to the constant teasing.
Until, there was Mondo Owada. An unexpected friendship springs from passionate hatred. Their "duel" in the sauna led to awkward small talk about past pets and favourite school subjects, which led to a rapid budding friendship with his kyoudai. Mondo Oowada was there for him in the very short time they had together; sure, he was also awkward and a bit overly aggressive, but they fit like a glove.
Ishimaru Kiyotaka was many things, but hysterical was not one of them.
Yet here he was, on his knees in front of the whole courtroom as a result of his grovelling.
The leather of Mondo's coat felt slick and heavy. He knew he looked pathetic; he knew how weak and embarrassing he looked; he was never one to care about what others thought of him anyway, not really.
"Why mondo? Why? Make me understand!"
His own voice felt like static to his own ears; he was barely able to desperately choke it out. warm, hot trails of tears engraved down the paths of his cheeks.
His hands moved on their own accord, shaking his one and only friend in a weak attempt to shake the answer out of the man in front of him. He could see his facade cracking and chipping away with each borrowed second he had.
Lavender eyes avoided his own, dejectedly glaring anywhere but Ishimarus' grief-stricken face. Why did it have to be mondo? Why? Why his only friend? He secretly hated himself for his selfishness. Someone was dead because of his kyoudai, yet he couldn't seem to face the reality of that just yet. Mondo Oowada was a murderer who dashed out poor Fujisaki's brains in a blind rage.
But, mondo oowada was the same person who made him actually feel real, like he wasn't a wind-up toy people used to laugh at when they drove over the edge with their rebellious behaviour or an annoyance who ruined the day with his presence. He made him feel human for the first time in his life.
A static jolt ran through his body when he stared deeply into Mondo's eyes. They looked guilty and resentful—for whom he didn’t know. In the back of his mind, he hoped it was for him, just this once.
Mondo's lips trembled, his eyes shone with the tears he refused to let fall, and his breath was sharp and harsh. He was trembling, just like the coward he never wanted to be.
Ishimaru could tell the other classmates were waiting with baited breath for the metal chocker to rip Mondo away just as it did Leon.
His boots were scuffed etching away the perfect mirrored reflection they once proudly displayed; he couldn't bring himself to care.
A grating voice pierced through the grief.
"Pupupu! So very sorry to be the bear-er! (Pupu get it?) of bad news!"
No.
Nonononono, not Mondo, please.
Everyone was silent.
"It’s punishment time!"
"No! No! "
"Take me instead, please; I’m begging you!"
He was on the floor again, the cold seeping through to his aching bones.
Monokuma spared him a single joyful glance before pulling out his hammer.
His uniform was coated in filth from the floor, tainting it with the grime of Hopes Peak Academy.
His own choked-out pleas and sobs echoed through the courtroom.
Chains clinking, desperate crying, surprised gasps, clamping of metal—one last, final goodbye.
He tried to reach out.
There was no one there.
Ishimaru Kiyotaka was many things. Until he wasn’t.