After the hundredth reset, Sayori can no longer take it.

She never quite understood why the game was reinstalled. Monika deleting it should have been the end, right?

And yet... here she was, trucking along.

So she did the only thing she thought anyone in her situation could - she tried to make everyone happy.

The first time, she had hope. The first time, they almost made it to the festival.

But on that day, while walking to the clubroom, the faint odors of blood and gastric juices told her everything she needed to know.

So she tried again.

And again.

And she tried ninety-seven more times.

And nothing worked.

Each reset, each new strategy, ended in a different kind of tragedy.

It never got any better.

She shakes her head. There really is no happiness to be found in the Literature Club.

And now, there is only one thing left she can try.

Maybe. Maybe happiness doesn't come from this world naturally.

But we can do it ourselves.

It takes her two more resets to ensure whether her idea will work. A spark of hope turns into a small flame.

I'll do it myself.

And then everyone will be happy.

She sets off for the MC's house.

A next-door neighbor to Sayori, the only male character in the game resides in a house with a similar feel to her own. The two buildings are laid out in a mostly identical fashion. While Sayori's house is made up of two cubic prisms with external roofs, the adjacent abode is instead composed of two trapezoidal ones.

Sayori could never tell if the paneling on the house was real or faux wood, but the cream coloring has always given her a familiar sense of comfort, and despite the circumstances today is no different. She knocks the front door with the special knock that only she and her childhood friend know, wearing a forced smile that she knows all too well.

Remember, don't think about it. Just do it.

As he pulls the door open, the afternoon sunlight momentarily blinds him. In all her resets, Sayori has managed to get the game to start earlier than normal - a Sunday.

His eyes, temporarily shielded from the sunlight, are a deep amber. His jaw is square, but his face is more round, as if the rest of his body were in protest at his bone structure. He is taller than Sayori, but only by a few centimeters, and his dark hair is even more messy than hers. He dons a blue graphic tee with some design that Sayori doesn't recognize, as well as a pair of jeans.

"Hey, Sayori!"

She waves at him, eyes forced shut from the width of her smile. "Hiiiii~!" she says. "Could I come in...? I wanna ask you something."

"Sayori, you know you're always welcome here! Come on in, I think I might have some cookies left."

She gasps. "I wanna cooky!" she exclaims, darting past him into his living room and plopping on the couch.

She hears him chuckle to himself. "Never change, Sayori..." He closes the door and momentarily disappears into the kitchen, only to return with two freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.

"One for me, one for you," he says as he holds out a hand. The former vice president giggles as she plucks the treat from his grasp.

Somewhere in memory, a phrase is commented out of the next Python instruction.

easy there uncle joe

Sayori's normally unwavering mask of unadulterated happiness sustains a hairline fracture, if only for a moment.

What...? W-whatever, I don't have time to worry about that. I'll just need to cut to the chase...

The boy sits down next to Sayori and smiles back at her. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Her expression falters a bit.

How do I introduce this...? Oh, wait!

"Ummm... okay, first I wanted to ask you something because I'm just kinda curious..."

"Sure. Shoot."

"Okay, this might be a little bit if a strange question, but I wanted to ask your name?"

He shakes his head.

"Sayori, you dummy, did you somehow forget? It's [nul]."

Sayori, ignoring the infinitely loud result of his somehow saying every name that can be entered in the game at once, frowns and slaps his arm.

"Noooo! Not your nickname, I've only been calling you that since maybe last week. I meant your real name, silly. Your given one."

"Oh! It's-"

He matches her frowning expression. "I-"

A shake of the head. The hand flying to the temple. A full minute passing before a single tear sneaks its way down his cheek.

He finally breathes a response.

"I don't know."

Beat-for-beat, his reaction is the same as the last reset.

"Do I..." he manages to choke out amongst silent sobs. "Do I even have a real name, Sayori?"

She feigns disbelief. "I- I don't think you do..."

"I can't remember anything. Anything. What..." Another shake of the head. "What the hell is wrong with me...?"

The president shakes her head out of reflex. "It's not your fault. I will explain everything in just a second, but there's something I need to do first..."

She inhales and exhales.

Here we go.

echo 1 | givePres



For only a fraction of a percent of a millisecond, Sayori has complete peace of mind.

The noise seems several orders of magnitude louder when it returns.

The boy buries his face in his hands and emits a guttural scream in a fit of soul-crushing fear.

"W-what... ahaha... what was that, Sayori...?"

She covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. Her vision becomes slightly impaired from her tearing up.

"It was the truth."

The former vice president spends the next hour in what feels like an eternal side-hug with her childhood friend.

Her thoughts race. She was too preoccupied with actually executing her plan before, but now she has time to think.

I'm doing this for me, aren't I...?

Not for them.

How could I be so selfish?

She shakes her head.

This won't make anyone happy.

Her thoughts become too much, so she distracts herself by doing other things. Resting her head on his shoulder. Rubbing his back.

Finally, her voice as comforting as she can make it, she opens her mouth to speak.

"So... considering they left you, um... nameless, is there anything you think sounds good that you want me to call you?"

"I-I..."

He sighs, hands interlocked between his knees.

"It's just... hard to believe. I... guess it's confirmation that we're real, but... the idea that we're here for the sick pleasure of some incel in his basement is kind of messing me up at the moment..."

Sayori cringes at the "incel" comment. Her status as club president initially made her enamored with the player as well, but Act 4 got her thinking, and the first few resets were enough to finally put that school of thought to rest. Still, she knows she does have a bit of lingering bias.

She continues rubbing his back. "It's okay if you don't want to talk. I can literally give you as much time as you need."

He sits up, rubbing his face. "Tomonori."

"Hm?"

He makes eye contact for the first time in quite a while.

"I... think I would like to try being called 'Tomonori'."

A small smile creeps onto Sayori's face, naturally this time.

"I like it."

He shakes his head and begins to chuckle. "Y'know, I don't know how you do it, Sayori. I mean-"

Tomonori falters for a moment. His expression hardens again. "I could see everything at once. It was too much. I would have gone insane if I had to do that for more than a second."

Sayori slowly nods. "Monika definitely was..."

He raises an eyebrow. "'Monika'? I don't know anyone with that name..."

"Oh... that's right, you probably don't remember the past resets, do you..."

She looks off into the distance, staring at nothing. Her mouth, normally shaped into a permanent smile, now forms a small frown.

She sighs. "I won't be able to explain this perfectly; there isn't enough time for all the details. A quick summary should be enough..."

She swallows, then clears her throat.

"I think you were able to see Natsuki and Yuri?"

He nods the affirmative. She mirrors this.

"Okay, so you know about the club. Good, that will make this a bit easier.

"You see, the game originally had five characters: you, me, the other two girls, and one other named Monika. She was the club president from the start, and that meant she had one desire only: to be with the player.

"But... there was a problem. The game didn't allow her to have a 'route' where the player would choose her. She was meant to sort of be in the background, giving him tips on how to win us over..."

Sayori shakes her head. "The thought of it is still sickening to me.

"And that's not even the worst part.

"She thought she could force the player to choose her by... making us look bad..."

Tears well up in her eyes. She wipes them away.

I need to be strong, just for this.

She looks at Tomonori again. His face hosts an expression that is difficult to read, but he seems to understand that this is going somewhere rather dark.

"I-I'm sorry, Tomo... I'm going a bit fast, hehe..."

He shakes his head. "No, Sayori. This is important. You can finish."

"O-okay..."

She hugs him a bit tighter, at the same time breaking eye contact.

"Part of this was the game's fault, really. All three of us had our problems: Yuri was anxious and could get a little obsessive sometimes, Natsuki's father was kinda strict and couldn't always provide for her, and I-"

She stops short.

"I'm sorry, I... don't think I'm ready to talk about myself..."

At the same time, an avalanche of thoughts falls onto her.

You need to tell him. It's much too selfish to keep this to yourself...

But you can't tell him. He'll hate you. He won't see you the same way again.

She shakes her head. This is all my fault. I shouldn't be trying to help them, I'll only make this worse...

Sayori hangs her head in what is probably shame. She sniffles, then boils over and begins quietly sobbing.

Tomonori returns the hug she has been giving him. "This... isn't going to be easy for either of us," he manages. "And... I trust you. You can tell me anything you want, I-"

"I have depression, Tomo."

He stops short.

"Having to carry on through all of this has been... nothing short of hell. The only thing that gets me through it is the idea that somehow, one of these resets, I'll... be able to bring happiness to the club.

"A-and M-monika made my depression worse." She shakily inhales. "Even so, I n-never did what she wanted..."

Sayori closes her eyes. She can feel her tear ducts welling up again and she knows she will burst out crying if she opens her eyes.

Slowly her hands find the collar around her neck. They slide down to the top button and cautiously push it out of the matching hole. Tomonori watches on in bewilderment.

With one gesture, the former vice president pushes down the side of her collar and reveals the permanent dark mark left from the noose, resting a finger on it. A few scars slash vertically against it, abruptly ending at the mark itself.

Sayori's eyes finally open. As she expected, tears once again stream down her face.

"S-so she did it hers-self."

His hand reaches out, shaking. Her free one finds it, and they hold hands in silence.