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Makoto Naegi was an idiot.
He fell in love far too fast and much too easily. A bat of the eyes, a swish of the hips and a cute voice from plump lips had him smitten. It's something he's lived with. His breath catching in his throat at a random passerby, hearts blooming in his eyes like vibrant roses at the boy he often sees at the park.
Huh, I wonder what he's up to right now…
Makoto thinks of his jet black hair, those deep and striking blue eyes that got him swooning. The ghosts of freckles on his pale skin, his sharp canine teeth and the way his shoulders shake when he laughs. Just the memories of quick, little conversations had turned his cheeks rosy.
However, those soft feelings and innocent longing quickly turned to dread, not quite despair, but dread.
Sayaka…
He can't quite place if he thought of her or mumbled her name aloud. The pop sensation whom he'd had the pleasure of going to middle school with, not doing much but admiring from afar. Seeing her deep blue hair blow in the wind, twinkling eyes like diamonds only ever glancing his way.
Her lifeless dead body covered in grotesque blood splatters… yep, in that shower he had to sleep just feet from, his first ever crush died. Blood slowly draining, making Sayaka Maizono a great unfinished symphony. Her delicate voice would never sing again, her confident strides onto stages everywhere would never be seen again.
The brunette found his hand clutching at his hoodie, stomach churning and making him feel queasy. Thinking of one's dead crush never was easy, huh? Anyone with common sense would be able to keep their emotions under control in a killing game. A life or death situation where trust, let alone love, would get you killed.
Yet, here he is, finding it increasingly hard to still his beating heart.
Kyouko Kirigiri.
She was unlike anyone Makoto had ever met, let alone fallen for . He didn't have a type when it came to looks, not at all. He'd fallen in love with redheaded cashiers for just a moment's notice, purple haired boys who laughed just a bit too loudly in restaurants and drew his attention, managing to stay on his mind for an entire day.
But, he leaned towards the kind, gentle types. Ones who laughed easily and seemed to radiate like the summer sun, warming the hearts of everyone around them, silently demanding attention. Other times, he liked the loud and overconfident types, the ones with golden hearts and big dreams.
Kyouko was... neither of those.
She was cold, off put, rarely smiled and calculated. Her stare was fiery yet sent shivers up his spine. She didn't radiate warmth and sunshine, no, she seemed like a sword. Intimidating, dangerous, everything about her screamed to stay away. That only pulled Makoto in more.
There were a lot of people who purposely tried to come off as intimidating or scary but Kyouko… She could simply run her hands through her hair and even just that , asserted some form of dominance.
As this horror show of teen murderers dragged on for what felt like forever, he had grown somewhat close to Kyouko. His crush only intensified with each passing day and with every flickering moment, he knew it was futile. See, his detective friend was like ice but she melted when around a certain gambling woman.
Makoto had seen it up close more than enough. The tiniest smirk would form on Kyouko’s lips, no smile lines as that wasn't something she did often. Those pale, somewhat grey and almost dead looking cheeks would heat up to a healthy pink. Words spilled from her easier, she was quick to make a quip or two. Her shoulders would relax in the most beautiful way, her eyes of ice having turned soft.
The way it made Makoto’s heart skip, he could only imagine what Celestia must have felt like, being on the receiving end of it all. The lying woman rarely ever faltered. She would bat her long ebony eyelashes, giggle incessantly but it was nice on the ears so no one really minded.
Her usual prim and proper smile would splinter into something less refined and more juvenile, a grin filled with absolute giddy. Everyone noticed how closely she sat to Kyouko, how their touches lingered, their way their gazes would meet and not break until something else called for attention.
They were absolutely smitten. Makoto tried his best to deny it, at first but there was nothing he could do when Kyouko was applying Celestia’s scarlet lipstick during breakfast. Nor was there any action he could take when everyone heard the lolita laugh so hard she snorted past the very ‘night time’ she had set up.
Makoto simply basked in just how beautiful the two women were, how wonderful it was to see a more open version of his close friend. Celestia was too far removed from the luckster’s usual type to garner his affections. She was too proper, too refined and her emotions were hard to read unless they were an unstoppable whirlwind of curse words and insults. Her lies were hard to see through, her bluffs impossible to grasp.
Yet, somehow, Kyouko could see through it all. It was like God himself designed these two women for one another. And even that revelation didn't stop Makoto's heart from banging against his ribcage any time his dough eyes met Kyouko’s lilac skies.
He had never stopped to think about the truth he had so firmly tried to hammer into his own head.
This is a killing game, it's a death sentence to simply trust someone, let alone love them.
He never got to warn Kyouko of the impending danger, how badly her heart can be broken. And that was a big, big mistake. Sure, the detective had long, worry free days but it only made things worse .
Celestia Ludenberg fell under his scrutiny, the attention of the class trial on the gambling woman. The label of being guilty was breathing down her neck, loss hanging around her neck. The lolita screamed and shrieked, voice cracking like uproarious thunder. Even with an almost animalistic snarl draped over her features, she still somehow managed to look beautiful. It was... unnerving .
Her teeth were bared, eyebrows knit together in fury. Yet, at the same time, her ruby eyes burned with a determination Makoto had never seen before. Not even when the wildest dreamers talked of reaching the stars, not even when Sayaka babbled about becoming famous as a child, not even Monokuma proclaimed his love for this sick, twisted killing game.
“You don't know the first thing about desperate!”
Ripped from Celestia's throat, on its own portraying a life of hardship and struggle. Makoto was struggling against this killing game, he was struggling to survive, he was struggling with the way Kyouko's eyes seemed wet, he was struggling to get his feelings under control .
Kyouko probably knew what Celestia had been through, told to her during one of their many nights together. And she was shaking like a leaf in the wind because she knew, the woman that she loved, her soulmate was guilty. They were all guilty of a lot of things but within this game...being guilty means being executed.
The detective would have to vote with her own two hands, she would have to send her lover off to a painful death. It was a cruel and unusual punishment.
The very definition of despair.
Monokuma didn't just want the despair of high school kids killing each other, that was too vanilla. Makoto had come to realize that despair came in many flavors. Seeing your first love’s corpse, being unable to protect these people you've begun to call your friends, longing for the outside world and your family, fuzzy memories that leave you with a sense of loss. Despair wasn't just the executions, it was seeing what they did to the people around you, too.
He had never known anything like it before. Makoto had a soft, impressionable heart. He was somewhat of a crybaby and easily scared, he was just as quick to cry as he was to laugh. He'd cried over movies, dying animals, tragic stories on the news. But nothing filled him with a numb pain like this.
Words were falling out of his mouth and he wanted to stop them but he couldn't, no matter how much thunder cracked in this trial room, no matter how silent Kyouko was. He wanted to scream, he didn't want this. In the end, the brunette must be a terrible person. Makoto didn't want to break Kyouko's heart but even more than that…
He didn't want to die .
He's a scumbag who prioritizes his own feelings over his friend's. That's what he told himself to cope with how quiet Celestia suddenly became.
“ Taeko ... Yasuhiro ...is fine....” The lolita admitted, once passionate eyes cast to the floor. It was deathly silent before Byakuya cut in with some snide remark but it was too quiet, the sound of a lifelong dream shattering into pieces overtook it.
Celestia had worked for that dream all her life and Makoto just took it from her… Who was he to even do such a thing? Who was he to sentence an innocent man just protecting himself to death? Or a man with his pride on the line? Everything was hitting him at once, an ocean of guilt was drowning him and Kyouko was only pulling him deeper.
Celestia handed the key to Alter Ego to none other than Kyouko, her hands cupping the other girl's the entire time she spoke. Ruby eyes never left lilac, voices were hushed. Kyouko swallowed, barely holding back tears but Celestia simply cupped her cheek and offered her this gentle smile.
It was the kind of smile you gave someone when they were scared, a smile that said everything was going to be okay.
But it wasn't .
Kyouko's soulmate, best friend, the perfect woman for her, the first person to ever make her truly laugh, the first person she ever loved , was about to die in mere moments. However, in an act of strength unlike Makoto had ever seen before, Kyouko smiled back.
It was weak and her lips were shaking pitifully but it responded with a gentle, I know . The detective knew that one day she was going to be fine, it wouldn't be any time soon but it would come in due time. Celestia chuckled a little before Kyouko began to speak.
“I...I promise to survive and when I...when I get out of here, I'll buy up every castle I can think of and all of them will be in your name!”
It was a serious yet childish promise. With her smarts and physical strength, Kyouko would most likely survive this killing game but the latter half of her words sounded like something a child would say. She knew it and so did Celestia. The woman of rosary nodded, “Thank you, Kyouko. That is truly the hope I've been looking for. Someone willing to pursue my dreams beside me.”
She hesitated, finally looking away as she cleared her throat. “Ah, well, I suppose you will have to do all the work, though…” She laughed dryly, Kyouko gripped her hand tighter but that didn't stop the gambler's next words. “Alright, Monokuma! Let's end this!”
Makoto’s heart shattered into a million pieces, shards that would cut even the hardest steels. He was breaking due to the way Kyouko's breath caught in her throat, eyes going wide as Celestia was taken from her and being led down a dark corridor. The gambler gave her last au revior, throwing one hand up as she declared, “Let us all meet again, in our next life!”
The luckster was on edge, what would be this theatrical liar’s untimely demise, when would his detective friend break? Makoto was going to be there for her, of course but, he was waiting to be needed.
Celestia's execution started slowly, an extravagant stage seeming to unravel behind her as a fire was lit. Each ember crawled higher and higher, the smell of ash and soot pungent, every flame seemed to be screaming in stark contrast to the smile that never left the dark haired woman's face. She was wrapped in mysteries and even in death, the cover was tightly shut to all but Kyouko.
The purple haired woman was standing there, nearly dumbstruck as no noise left her and no emotion other than utter loss sauntered across her face. She wasn't even moving. Just staring as flames swirled and twirled, making everything unbearably hot and bringing sweat to Makoto's forehead. Eventually, as those embers sunk their teeth into Celestia's legs, it was finally all too much for the stone faced detective.
Sobs began to rip from her throat, pushing their way past her grit teeth and sounding strained. It was as if every wail was pushing its way out by force, every tear running like a trapped man to freedom.
It was almost like Kyouko had never cried before.
It was a foreign feeling to her, hot salty tears decorating her cheeks. Her entire face was red, shaking hands tangling into her hair. There were creases in her brow and snot falling from her nose. This gorgeous woman was such an ugly crier, simply not built to display such strong emotion. That's what Celestia Ludenberg had brought out in her, strong emotion that she wasn't built to handle.
A death fit for a queen … is what the detective kept telling herself over and over, it was almost comforting. At least Celestia would die in a way befitting for her, unique, beautiful and somewhat old fashioned.
That lying woman would live on forever within the cracks of Kyouko's mask and the tears in her heart. Loud sirens and deafening ringing sounds filled the air as wide eyes all looked to a fire truck, it was barreling towards the stage Celestia was standing on, tied to . Suddenly, everything clicked and Kyouko tried to scream but nothing came out.
It wasn't just the cruelty of the act that had despair on her tongue and bile in her throat, it was what Celestia must have felt. Being treated as if she was going to be executed in some unique way only to die by being hit by a car, something mediocre and common. It filled Kyouko with a blinding rage but it wasn't enough to overpower how sick she felt, legs shaking.
She must be terrified .
That was all the detective could think as that blood red fire truck slammed into Celestia and, thankfully, hid her body from view. All the energy and strength that was holding Kyouko together disappeared, her legs gave out as she fell to her knees.
She stared at the now extinguished stage, face of utter disbelief. There was nothing she could say right now. The others masked their horror in different ways before leaving the execution site as quickly as possible.
Makoto and Kyouko remained, however. The luckster allowed the girl a few more moments to stare at the stage, it was being burned into her memory and it would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. Makoto shuddered, he really was such a horrible person. Maybe...maybe Kyouko would've preferred for Celestia to live while they all died instead.
That look of despair on her face, it was screaming so many things at him yet not saying a word. The brunette walked over to her, slowly grabbing her arm and pulling her up. Makoto pulled her along, taking her away from this gruesome scene. Her steps were uncoordinated, eyes still looking behind her as if the latest victim of this killing game would emerge from the rubble, chuckling as she declared it was all a lie.
Eventually, they made it back to Makoto's room. He originally planned to take Kyouko back to her own but...there were probably too many reminders of Celestia in there. That would be too much for her right now. He sat her down on his bed, she was still silent and her eyes were still blown wide.
She resembled Ishimaru after Mondo’s death and that scared him. It was a selfish request, especially after the fate his detective skills had bestowed upon Kyouko but he didn't want to lose her. The brunette sat down next to her, leaning his head on her shoulder, trying to be reassuring.
Despite it all, she still smelled like roses. That perfume he'd see Celestia spritz on every morning. Makoto's heart ached but its pace still quickened. His feelings were still there and he wanted to cry, why wouldn't this crush just fleet like the others did. Why was his heart so stubborn, love and thoughts of intimacy sweeping over him.
Suddenly, the sturdy shoulder he was leaning on began to shake rather violently. Tears were pouring down Kyouko's porcelain cheeks like bursting waterfalls, mouth opened as loud wails left her like a child crying over a lost toy.
Her hands twisted into the sheets of Makoto's bed and he was frantic, patting her back and running his fingers through her hair. He wanted her to feel better, it was so painful to see her like this. The luckster couldn't help but to wonder how long would despair dominate Kyouko's features and how would it shape her? He imagined that she'd look even wiser, eyes looking far away.
She brings her shaking hands to her gushing eyes as she tries to wipe her tears in a futile effort. There are too many for her small, gloved hands to catch. Makoto finds himself kneeling in front of her, taking her hands away from her face and holding them in his own.
“Kyouko, I will do anything to make you feel better please tell me what to do.” His voice was gentle and desperate, a legitimate plea. He wanted to soothe both of their aching hearts.
“Make them stop…” Her voice was weak, wavering as she whispered. Kyouko looked down at Makoto through her long eyelashes, such a light purple they seemed white. Her skin was still flawless and cheeks a dark red, it complemented her plump, pink, trembling lips perfectly. She managed to look beautiful even like this, Makoto found himself getting choked up.
“ My tears… ” she removed her leather clad hand from his, pointing to her chest, “ this...this ache right here..? ” Tears sprung in the luckster’s eyes but he bit them back as Kyouko pleaded with him once more,
“
Make them stop.”