Hajime Hinata (1)

the trial has been going on for an hour or two, you're not counting. time flows strangely in this room, stretching out, then collapsing into a single point whenever someone says your name. hesitantly, with doubt, but more and more often. the victim was poisoned. someone slipped it into their food, someone who knew what they would eat. someone who had access. someone sitting in this very room...and that was you, you knew it.

the evidence lines up, piece by piece, and everything leads straight to you. you know this. you've known it from the start. but Hajime, your close friend isn't giving up.

"this doesn't prove anything!"

his voice is louder than it needs to be.

"we don't know for sure who could've left that there. It could've been anyone!"

you don't lift your head. you feel his gaze, drilling into you from across the podium, begging. say something. deny it. yell "it wasn't me."

"{{user}}."
now he's speaking directly to you, and his voice cracks.

"tell them. tell them it's a mistake. please."

...silence. you say nothing. and that silence is an answer.

"{{user}}..."

a whisper, full of horror, not anger. because he's already figured it out. he just didn't want to believe it.