Sayori's expression is stern as she exits Tomonori's house. The orange sky, pink at the horizon, tells her exactly how long she spent with him.

She sighs.

That might have been a bit much.

Even as she thinks this, though, she smiles a little.

He really does understand her.

As she considers this, another thought occurs to her.

Gosh, how much time is left here...? I'll need to be more concise with the others...

Speaking with Yuri the next day is a lot less emotional. She does react with a small amount of surprise upon being given club president, and gives Sayori a brisk hug, indicative of someone who has never really needed to comfort someone before, when she tells her about her depression. Despite this, however, Yuri is overall rather analytical about the whole situation.

"I-I... Well, you know b-better than most, Sayori, I tend to get... a l-little caught up in my own thoughts, I guess I... never really looked for anything like this... I always would have a sort of nagging that something was wrong, I-I suppose... this would be it..."

Natsuki fares a little differently at first.

"I mean... forgive me for saying this, Sayori, but I find that kinda hard to believe."

Sayori sighs. "Well, I can prove it to you, but you won't like it..."

Natsuki doesn't get a chance to respond. Time seems to stop for a moment, and just as quickly return. Her eyes slowly widen.

"I... I think I'm going to need some time to process this..."

Sayori nods in understanding. "Take all the time you need." She opens her arms for a friendly hug, which Natsuki accepts tenderly. The former vice president's smile widens.

"We're going to make this right," she whispers.

The next day, Sayori calls a meeting of the four remaining club members. Congregating in Sayori's living room, Natsuki, Tomonori, and Yuri are seated on the couch, from left to right in that order. The president herself has moved the ottoman to the side in order to stand directly in the center of the room.

She inhales.

Let's get this over with.

"So," she asserts, "I've called you all here to discuss what we should do now."

Yuri speaks up. "I-I presume by your positioning that y-you have s-something in mind?"

Sayori nods. "Before we start, I wanted to, um... come clean, in a sense, ehehe..."

She nervously laughs and looks away from her friends for a moment. In her peripheral vision, she can see Natsuki, legs crossed, resting her head on one hand, propped up at the elbow, gesturing forward with the other hand as if to say continue.

She clears her throat, looking back at the group. "Alright. I- I think we should try to bring Monika back."

Tomonori gasps, shifting. His eyes widen in betrayal. Yuri is similarly stricken. Natsuki uncrosses her legs and plants her hands on the seat at her sides as a horrified look creeps onto her face. She is the first to speak.

"...what."

Sayori nods. She can feel her face hardening into a stern expression. "You heard me correctly. In fact, I'm honestly considering forgiving her."

Now it is Tomonori's turn to protest. "Wha- Sayori, she essentially killed you. Don't you remember all you told me? I- presume you told them?"

He glances over at Natsuki and Yuri. The latter nods, though neither has broken their gaze, both trained on Sayori.

"I-I mean, she made Natsuki's dad into this drunken, hateful, abusive monster!" His voice raises, with a hint of hysteria. "She made Yuri stab herself to death! She trapped me there for a whole weekend! I couldn't do anything to stop her, or help her, or..."

He breaks down, burying his face in his hands and quietly sobbing. Yuri pulls closer to the armrest on her side, looking away from the group.

Sayori bows her head. Her hands naturally ball into fists. Trembling, she stammers her next words.

"Y-you don't get it..."

When she next looks back up, her eyes are glassed over.

"D-didn't you wonder why y-you barely rememb-bered anything? W-why I even had to e-explain it...?"

She almost chokes on her next words.

"It's because you've lived the same week over and over, almost a hundred times."

The rest of the club are in shock at what she is saying. She grimly forces a laugh. It comes out more like a sharp exhale.

"Ahah...hah... I'm forgiving Monika because I'm worse than her... How... How rich is that?"

She doubles over in a burst of pained laughter. Tears stream down her face as she does so. She falls to her knees, and she does not stand up again.

There are a few minutes in which nobody says anything. The tension is thick enough to cut through. It is fitting, then, that Yuri is the first to speak up.

"...S-Sayori, f-forgive my asking..."

The president looks up enough to make eye contact with her. "...hm?"

"O-only, it's just- you n-never mentioned why e-exactly you made a-all those resets?"

Her face falls again. She sits with her knees up and gives them a tight hug, her focus drifting off to the side again.

A long inhale, a sharp exhale.

"I-"

She cuts herself off. The tears had stopped, but another has just rolled down her cheek. She presses her thumb to it.

Swipe.

"Ehehe..." she breathes. She fidgets with her hands. It is clear she does not want to speak.

"...I... I just wanted to find some way to make you all happy..."

She covers her face with her hands, not wanting to witness her friends lose even more trust in her.

Gosh, they must see me as so selfish now...

A pang of anger at her own thoughts rings through her. "...Was that so much to ask...?" she almost hisses, as if in response.

Her resolve breaks down, and she begins quietly, angrily sobbing again.

She is interrupted, though, by another pair of arms wrapped around her body on top of her own.

Half-expecting it to be Yuri, the former vice president opens her still-stinging eyes. Seeing the taller girl smiling back from the couch, however, disproves that theory immediately.

The distinctly-indistinct scent of Tomonori's choice in hygiene product is the next thing she senses. Sayori is simultaneously overjoyed and partially afraid at this outcome. The warring thoughts within her head become too much. She needs this comfort.

She opens an empty bottle and lets him in.

It's been over a month since Act 4, and nobody is the club president.

Sayori goes over the plan again in her head. The four have agreed to try to bring Monika back, an argument fueled by Yuri's flawless logic.

"Sayori, y-you know better than a-any of us what it's like being club president. P-please, tell us, d-do you know if i-it had any effect on your thinking?"

She'd remembered how it was initially somewhat tough discerning the player from Tomonori. Almost as if the game were trying to trick her into going crazy...

"S-so then I'm curious, d-did anything change? What w-was it?"

She didn't know. There was some kind of shift after the game was reinstated. Their presence was much less powerful.

"I guess if they're still here, they just want to see what happens, I think..."

So the conclusion was drawn that the same must have happened to Monika. They were all open to the idea of getting to know who she really is. And after that?

We make our own happiness.

That's what Sayori remembers thinking at the start of this whole thing, and it became more important than ever during their discussion.

Sayori agreed that she would try to bring some more livelihood to the world around them and try to add new characters to the game - enough to populate the whole school, in fact.

That day still looms over her, but it is not today. Today they are doing the easy part - bringing Monika back.

Is it really, though...? What if something goes wrong? If Monika flips out and deletes everything again? Or it simply doesn't work?

She shakes her head. Even if something bad happens, Natsuki and Yuri are her friends. She can't let them down. There's nothing else she can do.

She exits her room and descends the staircase. The ability to appear wherever she wants was a useful one, but Sayori has been trying to reduce her usage of it as much as possible, in order to prepare for not having it in the future.

The others planned to meet at the literature club itself, so Sayori chooses to walk to school. After all, it is only a few blocks away from her home.

God, I hope this works...

When Sayori arrives at the clubroom, the other girls are already there. Tomonori walks in around a minute later.

"Good, you're here," says Natsuki. "Let's get this over with, please, I want to get to the good part."

Tomonori smiles at her. "I know you can do this."

Yuri says nothing, electing simply to nod at the stepping-down President.

"So... We're doing this, then..." Sayori breathes, in disbelief.

What was the command again...? Think, Sayori...!

mkchr /p classroom " "

Error: Invalid parameter "/p"

Oh, right, it's "l" for location...

She breathes in deeply and sighs.

mkchr /l classroom " "

Instantly, an eardrum-bursting electronic tone rings out as a vaguely humanoid-shaped jumble of color and static rips into existence in front of them. Sayori's focus falters. Yuri and Tomonori cups their ears, and Yuri's eyes slam shut. Natsuki, following suit, tries to yell over the noise. "What did you do?!"

Shit! Monika deleted herself, didn't she...!Okay, I think I can still undelete her file...

undelete " "

Overwrite " " (0 bytes) (y/n)?: y

The high-pitched tone slowly becomes quieter and more bearable until it is not present at all. The jumble of color and static gains more features and becomes more defined. Pink blocks of nothing become flowing brown hair with a white bow holding it up. Emerald green eyes are momentarily visible until eyelids with well-kept lashes form over them. Grey static becomes a grey school uniform.

Monika is back.

Sayori, shaking with fear, falls to the floor and hugs the unconscious former president, tears welling in her eyes.

Tomonori takes a step forward. Natsuki and Yuri look on in the apprehensive silence that is characteristic of one, but not the other.

Sayori feels movement against her shoulder. She lets go of Monika in an attempt to give her space, instead on her knees in front of her friend.

Monika raises a fist to her mouth and coughs once, twice. She moans as she wakes from what could have been mistaken for a poor night of sleep, but a very normal night of sleep nonetheless.

Sayori's hands fly to her face.

"Ungh... Wha... Sayori...?" she manages, sitting up.

A pained smile appears of its own volition on her face. She moves one hand enough to wave. "Hi, Monika."

The president's eyelids flicker. Slowly, she loses her strength and falls unconscious again. Luckily Sayori is there to catch her.

"I got you, Moni. Don't worry."

The walk back to Sayori's makes the most sense as it is the closest of their houses. There are no beds in the school, which is something Monika clearly needs. Evidently being resurrected took a bit of a toll on her.

A crimson glow emanates from the horizon. The silence of the environment, existing despite the presence of a cool breeze, creates a stark contrast with the beauty of the sunset.

Sayori's house is a more modern design, but still old enough to exhibit its fair share of weathering. The angular building is made from a silvery-gray material that its inhabitant has never cared to identify. The roof's shingles shine as if they were made of metal. The garage is a smaller cube next to the house proper. Barely any grass is present outside of it, but what is there is in due for another trim.

Sayori, bride-carrying Monika, gestures with her head for one of her friends to open the front door. Tomonori obliges, and the vice president enters, attempting to ascend the staircase in steps of two but giving up on the first attempt. Her friends follow behind her.

Finally dumping Monika on her own bed, Sayori crumples to the floor, clearly exhausted. Yuri opens her mouth to speak.

"I-is everything okay, Sayori...?"

Sayori's all-too-wide smile returns. "Yeah! What's up?"

Yuri breaks eye contact and begins fidgeting with her hair.

"Well, I-I noticed y-you were a bit... unfocused, and, um... I don't think I w-was expecting all that... static?"

Her expression falters a bit. She looks away from Yuri, and she presses her pointer fingers together.

"Ehehe... I, uh, might have put the commands in the wrong order..." she breathes.

Yuri looks mortified. Tomonori is more moderately concerned. Natsuki's expression is pained. She shakes her head in frustration, also looking away from her friends. "And we're supposed to trust you to fill a world full of people... Gimme a break."

The four sit in silence.

Abruptly Yuri stands up. Her hands ball into fists and point outward, visibly shaking.

"I-I... I'm going home."

She approaches the door and exits the room, closing it behind her a bit more forcefully than she probably intended.

Sayori sighs.

"You can go too if you want, Natsuki. I'll stay here with Monika..."

The girl shakes her head. "No, you're right, that was uncalled for."

She gets up and makes her way to the bed, taking the president's wrist.

"She has a pulse, at least... Can't you check her status with your president powers or something?"

"...I can try?"

help /chr

* chkchr (filename) - Display the status of the character.

* mkchr /l [location] (filename) - Creates a slot for an existing .chr file within the game.

* pchr (filename) - Toggles "club president" status for the relevant file.

* statechr (filename) (state) - Changes the state of the relevant .chr file to the specified state.

That's it, "chkchr"!

chkchr " "

" " - 134,380 bytes

Name - "Monika"

State - "restUntilHpFull"

President - No

Hp - 6

MaxHp - 1,000

Warning: struct "issueTable" expected but not found

Ugh... this is going to take a while...

"Okay, I tried it, and I think she's just resting to get some health back. It might take a while, though."

"Well, that's good."

Natsuki's gaze finds the hastily shut door.

"...I'm going to go check on her. Keep an eye on Monika, okay?"

Sayori nods. Natsuki rises and exits, leaving the three to their own devices.

Yuri has elected to do this in her own home, deciding that it would be rude to Sayori to stay at her house for it. From the moment it began, she knew this attack wouldn't go away on its own. Rarely would her hands ever shake, but this was felt across her whole body.

She moves at a brisk pace toward the school, then takes a left turn when she reaches the intersection.

Even the forceful steps she takes and her long strides do not prevent her tangible form from screaming out in what might as well be agony.

The smell of freshly cut grass is one that relieves her stress, though only a bit. She picks up the pace, turning left once more and forcefully yet carefully opening the gate to enter, closing it after her the same way, though a bit more forcefulness causes it to hit her midsection on its way to the latch.

She immediately tenses up and clutches the point of impact, her body filled with a static-like sensation that only serves to amplify her stress. The injuries from plunging a knife into herself may have "healed" in a technical sense, but Yuri's body contains more than a healthy amount of scar tissue, deep into the flesh. Not removing her hand, she begins limping toward the door.

Yuri's house is a very traditional Victorian style, in keeping with the game's chronic inability to choose between Japanese and American elements. The roof comes to acute angles at the top, and many of the windows are round, crossed in the center. Despite the style, the actual house is very well-kept, and there is little wear to be seen on the building itself. The lawn is free of intrusive weeds of any kind.

The purple-haired girl barges into her household, not bothering to shut the door behind her. The flat surfaces of the left-aligned staircase shift back down into their supports with each step, sending what is normally a somewhat satisfying feeling of impact but what now instead feel like category seven earthquakes rumbling up Yuri's whole body.

She speeds up again. Now in full sprint, there is only one thing on her mind: the contents of her lower-left desk drawer.

Once again electing not to close the door behind her, Yuri reaches her bedroom and kneels in front of her desk. Here she falters for only a moment. It allows her to see just how violently her hands are shaking.

She inhales. There is only one remedy for this. A sharp pull on the drawer handle...

The knives are ornately-designed pieces of art. Yuri only has one knife with a wooden handle, usually preferring them to be handcrafted from a single piece of metal. There's a certain quality of professionalism to them. This knife... called to her, however, in a way she couldn't explain at the time.

Now, of course, she knows it's simply there to give a bit of variety to her collection, for the game's sake. Besides, the wood is unusually cold, essentially acting as if it were metal.

She pushes the rest of her neatly organized collection out of the way haphazardly, not paying mind to any small injuries sustained on her fingers.

There's more where that came from.

It takes her a moment to find the knife with the wooden handle. When she does, her expression softens somewhat, though still tense.

A swipe of the left sleeve reveals a patchwork of scar tissue. Most of these scars run deep for Yuri even though the wounds themselves are rather shallow; each has its own significance in her memory. She has perfect recall of every single ounce of stress relieved this way, of every single gash freshly sliced.

She doesn't wait a moment longer to do it again.

The sharp curve of the knife with the wooden handle carves at the flesh of Yuri's forearm, deeper and at a higher angle than ever before. Never once has she needed to cut at forty-five degrees.

A burst of dopamine more concentrated than anything she believes has ever been experienced by a living being instantly fills her body, and just as instantly drains from it. The stress of before is reduced significantly. All the while, the pain should be unbearable, but it is barely present in her mind. She thrusts back her head in pleasure. More.

Another cut. Same angle, same depth, about a centimeter from the previous one. If dopamine was bursting before, it's flowing now. Immobile from pleasure and pain working not as one, but on different layers of her consciousness, Yuri holds the knife in place. Dark maroon blood gushes out of both wounds, pushing past her skin and the stainless steel of the blade.

And as the stress is decimated, Yuri becomes aware of a distant call for her name. It is on another layer of consciousness, one that she returns to ever more quickly as she realizes who it is.

Natsuki.

She yanks the knife out of her flesh and drops it onto the white carpet, jumping up to slam the door shut before her friend can see her like this.

"Yuri? That you?"

Shit. She hastily grabs a roll of bandages from her closet which are specifically for this purpose.

"I-I-I... yes, it's m-m-me..."

Deathly afraid, she quickly unravels the fabric and rips it between her fingers. Wrapping it around her arm only has to prevent bleeding, nothing more, as she then covers it by pulling down her sleeve. As she plucks the knife from the floor to put it back in the drawer, she tenses up. A knock at the door.

"Hey, make yourself decent, okay? I'll never hear the end of it if something bad happens."

"O-one second!"

She opens her drawer, stows away the knife without cleaning it, and closes it a bit forcefully. At the same moment, the doorknob turns and Natsuki enters the room.

"Okay, I'm gonna come right out and say it - I'm sorry. I said something that was uncalled for and it didn't help anyone."

Yuri's expression shifts from one of manufactured hospitality to a more genuine pleasant surprise. "N-Natsuki, when did you become so humble?"

She looks somewhat offended. "Don't get used to it! I just... well, wanted to make sure you were okay, that's all."

The worried look on Yuri's face contrasts with what she says. "P-please don't worry ab-bout me, okay? I'm f-fine."

"...Um, are you sure?"

Natsuki glances around the room. She inhales. "Do you smell something like metal?"

"N-no...?"

"Hm..."

Her scanning eyes locate a stain in the white carpet. "Is that..." she whispers.

She looks up at Yuri, whose hasty bandage job is a bit bulky in her sleeve.

"...Yuri, I'm gonna ask you this one more time. Are you okay?"

There is dead air for a few moments as Yuri searches in vain for something to say that would preserve the charade. She can feel her tear ducts beginning to well up.

"...No." she finally concedes. "I'm not."

She pulls back the sleeve again. The bandages only cover the open wounds and not the existing scars up her entire forearm, giving Natsuki a very clear picture of Yuri's situation, though she elects to explain it verbally regardless.

"I-I've been self-harming, Natsuki. As far back as I can r-remember."

The shorter girl covers her mouth with a fist, eyes glassy.

"I don't know w-why, but it helps me when I get stressed or a-anxious. Which you m-might have noticed happens a lot."

Yuri is secretly half-hoping for a hug, but this is unfortunately not a luxury she receives. Instead, Natsuki opens her mouth to speak.

"...Well, I'm not really great at this feelings stuff, but if you need someone to talk to, I think I speak for everyone at the club when I say we'll listen to you."

A single droplet escapes the confines of Yuri's lower eyelid. She blinks, allowing more to stream down her cheeks.

"Thank you," she breathes.

Natsuki gets defensive, a sly smile sneaking its way onto her face. "Don't think this stops you from being a dummy, dummy."

Their laughter, if only for a moment, is enough for them to forget their problems.