『 Red Roses 』Danganronpa X [F] Reader [One Shots]

A Key and Locket [Yasuhiro Hagakure]

First, I know, I'm very slow at updates. And second, sorry that this might be a crappy chapter. I might be losing inspiration for writing :( 

This was an OC request, so if you see the person's name, please inform me, and I'll change it immediately. :) And if you see a specific eye color or hair color, please also notify me!

Requested by: shslcardiologist

[***] = Time Skip

3rd POV

-Flashback-

"You promise?"

"Yes, let's get married when we grow up, Hagakure-san." A small girl said.

"I have the locket." He started.

"And I have the key." She finished.

"That would be nice, to see you all grown up," Hagakure said.

"Mmhm!" The small female grinned.

They both laughed and played around on the hills, waiting for the sky to darken and for their parents to separate them.

Now the real question is: Who is the Promised Girl?

-McFlashback-

Y/N's POV

Hagakure came from a good family. They loved him.

I, however, had an entirely different story.

"Oh, Y/N, your ribbon's loose." Hagakure pointed out. He reached his tiny fingers around my ear and pulled the ribbon tighter. "There we go!" He smiled brightly, and I did the same.

"Thank you, Hagakure-san!" I screamed happily, tackling him in a hug.

My three other friends, Celestia Ludenberg, Aoi Asahina, and Sayaka Maizono, ran up to us.

"Y/N! LET'S PLAY HOPSCOTCH!" Aoi screamed happily, a silver key tied to a string dangling around her neck.

"Hm? Oh, can I play?" Celestia asked, twirling a copper key around her finger.

"Sure! Let's all play together!" Sayaka smiled, a gold key poking out of her pocket.

"YEAH!" Hagakure shouted, reaching for the blue chalk.

I held up my key: bronze. It wasn't as intricate as Aoi's, Celestia's, or Sayaka's, but... just maybe it could do the trick.

-Present-

I grabbed my pencil and jotted down some notes in my notebook. 

'It seems that I have fumbled into a classroom. Maybe I had been knocked out with a gas or sleeping powder of some sort. I shall investigate it immediately.'

My feet immediately started to move, walking down the halls, clutching my investigative journal in my hand.

A migraine was pounding against my head, making my skull hurt. I was used to it though: staying up long hours of the night, writing notes and theories in my journal.