Archive of Our Own ^beta

 
Typing fills the small, quaint room, a set of keys clicking away at a swift pace. It was simple work really, filling out reports on student grades and their wellbeing. Surprisingly, only few profiles needed adjustments, but the harm itself ranged from minor to something that should be looked into. There was nothing of great urgency, most attendees of the newly restored Hope’s Peak Academy doing positively wonderful, much to the delight of the man typing away behind the screen.

Makoto found that maintaining a school, especially one that has such a stained history and later becoming an urban legend to this day, was more challenging than expected. Sure, he knew it would be no walk in the park, but he hadn’t expected to jump through so many obstacles just to get to this point. He had argued for  days upon the fate of the building, claiming that even a blood soaked place like that had a glimmer of potential within it, setting the chance of a revival back up in the air. Considering how most didn’t want to debate with the madman who insisted upon keeping a useless building up while also wearing the title of the Ultimate Hope, they granted him access to do as he wished, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he would be provided with government funding.

That would’ve almost proven to be a defeat, were it not for a mix of donations from Togami and Future Foundation members who actually wished to help fund Naegi. Ever since that last debacle, and the final killing game at the Foundation Headquarters, it took the young man a while to convince them that he had no ill will towards anyone, and in fact strived for the opposite. And although his methods and beliefs still raise some brows even now, he was perfectly content with what he had accomplished, along with the bright future that lay ahead in running a school where both ultimates and non-ultimates can mingle, never again holding a sense of elitism within the school walls so history couldn't possibly repeat itself. 

In truth, despite anyone now being able to apply, there weren’t that many submissions in the fledgeling months of the restored academy. It took a while to collect enough students to actually place the teaching aspect in motion, but there were a surprising amount of slots left for potential new students. He couldn’t complain though, any and all students were welcome, the refurbished building now having a few expansions that fit the criteria for most ultimates. Speaking of which, just his luck that he receives an email regarding him that one of the teachers will be out for the day, specifically that of the cooking class. Given the last minute arrangement, along with all the other staff having no room to take on the task, the young man exits out of the tab on his screen before turning it off, running a hand through his ruffled tan air before standing up. 

He pushes his chair in just to be courteous and make his office look proper and tidy. It wasn’t necessary, but he felt it comforting to keep up a clean office, regardless of how insignificant. He reaches for the door, ready to head out when it happens to open for him, revealing a lavender haired girl on the other side. What throws him off, is her surprised expression, only coming into existence for a moment. She blinks and steps back, reverting back to her usually calm stature. “Ah, Naegi-kun,” Kyoko greets warmly, a pleasant smile on her face. The boy in question couldn’t help but smile back, excitement brimming in his chest. Hearing anything of Kyoko during work hours was always nice. The couple didn’t really have time for each other at the academy nowadays, however they were able to “finally tie the knot” as their friends put it, living in a small cottage style home just near the woods. It was quiet and secluded, but absolutely cozy. 

“Kirigiri-san,” The young man hums back, stepping out of his office and closing the door behind him. His hazel gaze meets hers, smile widening. “What can I help you with?"

“I wanted to inform you that I’ll be substituting for the cooking class today. I know their skill level is exceptional but unfortunately we’ll be creating a small dish until their teacher returns.” She brushes part of her hair away from the right side of her face, revealing that one side was darker than the other. It looked like a faint bruise, one that was purple in hue.

It was no such thing however, but rather a result of the traumatic events during the final killing game. “Oh, I was actually about to head down there myself. I-I mean, you can substitute instead if you want but I-“ Even after all these years he couldn’t help but become a stuttering mess.

Kyoko smiles, gesturing for him to walk alongside her. “Perhaps we both could substitute. Does that sound like a fair compromise?”

He pauses, quickly catching up to her and nodding. “Of course Kyoko, that’d be great!” They’d finally be able to do something together at work! How wonderful! 

He’s quick to notice her fiddling with the same part of her hair. Every time he passed by her at school it always kept the damaged side of her face partially hidden, maybe in an effort to not scare the other students, which she really shouldn’t have to worry about if Makoto were being honest. Yes, it served as a grim reminder that she had been poisoned back in the final killing game, the others, including him, presuming her dead. It was a great loss, only to learn that she had simply slipped into a comatose state, taking a semi-cure moments before she had been injected with the deadly serum. She had been rescued and fully cured thankfully, but it left permanent damage to that side of her face. Part of her vision in that specific eye had suffered immensely, making her nearly blind. But it didn’t matter, because Makoto and the others were quick to assist her in adjusting to having impaired vision. It no longer bothered her physically, but he could tell she didn’t sppreciate the odd stares. He doesn’t believe the source is insecurity, not in the slightest. But rather, finding so many eyes on her a distraction from her job and focus in general, which is why she decides to keep it tucked away.

The one exception to this, was Naegi. Of course it was her lover that she was fine with exposing her entire face to. For a while, she felt guilty that her husband had to look upon nothing more than a bad memory, to which Makoto very blatantly objected to. He adored her to no end, and she had nothing to be sorry for. He however, suffers from the same predicament, feeling as though her “death” was his doing, blaming that him still being alive was what had gotten her “killed” in the first place. Everything that had gone down in the final killing game was gruesome and horrific, and while there was the occasional triumph, it only lead to an even worse situation, being stripped away of the momentary happiness within such a bleak game. His thoughts become consumed with the events that occurred at Future Foundation Headquarters, walking beside Kyoko with mind somewhere entirely different. 

A blank stare crosses his face, hazel eyes enlarged and staring at the floor. He isn’t processing the ground moving beneath his feet, dissociating into a pool of disturbed memories that took place almost a year and a half ago. He recalls all of it in excruciating detail, from the smell of dust and blood to the sore ache of his scraped knees, pressing onward no matter how tough things got. Makoto always kept pushing and pushing, fully willing to discover the truth until-

He took it too far.

He almost stops in place, forcing himself to manually put one leg in front of the other, pushing the thought down into the darkest depths of his troubled mind where it should remain. Normally, he’d face his trauma head on, sometimes willing to discuss it during therapy, or when he simply needed to vent to a loved one. Most of it was of the events from the first killing game, but given that the final killing game was a more recent trauma, it had begun to merge with his nightmares of being trapped in the academy, back when The Tragedy was going on. Out of all these horrid memories, was one incident he refused to speak of, one he wanted to completely ignore the existence of. 

So determined to find out the truth behind these deaths, prompted on even further by Kyoko’s “demise” and with what she had written down in a notebook that contained a certain theory on what was going on with the victims, he willingly volunteered to test this hypothesis. Makoto blacked that part out from his mind, refusing to accept what had happened...and what almost happened. Not another living soul would hear of it, he swore to himself. And yet…as he recounts that when the game first started, the recorded message of Monokuma blatantly stated that the whole thing was being broadcasted…meaning... a lot of people must have seen it. The thought that someone recorded the footage of the killing game, recording the little scene of him during that unspoken incident and somehow leaking online or being sent to his friends...it haunted his mind constantly. What would they say? What would they think? Would they chastise him, calling him out on the notion that he was preaching something he had unwillingly turned his back on?

What were to happen if Kyoko found out?

That one always struck him hard. It didn’t take long to figure out that there was a reason Kyoko kept this information from him, as well as her NG Code throughout the killing game. If he had found out that his life was the one thing keeping her fate in the balance, while simultaneously finding out that the victims were killed by that of being brainwashed into taking their own lives, then it's more likely than not she feared he’d put two and two together and try and do something reckless.

How horrible would it be if she found out her sacrifice to keep Makoto from doing something so horrible, was so close to being in vain?

A chill runs down his spine, finally having to stop right outside the classroom, catching the attention of his partner. “Makoto?” She asks, gently taking hold of his hand, something she doesn’t do often. He snaps out of his daze, looking up at her and spotting the slight concern glinting in her eyes. She could tell when he was dissociating, especially when he sat still or shuddered for no apparent reason, sometimes being extremely noticeable in warm conditions. “Something’s the matter, isn’t it?” She states more as a fact than a question. “If you feel as though you aren’t up to substitute, then I can-“

“N-No!” He says quickly, trying to brush it off with an awkward laugh. “I mean, no. It’s fine Kyoko, seriously.” He sighs, tightening his grip just a tad. He feels Kyoko rub her thumb over his hand soothingly in an attempt to calm the boy’s nerves. “I started thinking was all, thinking about…e-everything.”

“I understand.” The lavender haired girl nods, making it obvious that she already knew well before he confessed. “We can continue if you say you’re up for it, but if you start to feel any worse, you should let me know, okay?”

There was a promise in her tone, soft purple meeting hazel once again, only this time, the look in her eyes was far more gentle than usual. She was truly worried for the boy, and he couldn't help but worry about her in turn. There was no more keeping secrets in this relationship, save for the one Makoto couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge.

“Mhm,” The young man nods, Kyoko leaning forward and opening the door to reveal a large room, several built in mini-kitchens lining the walls on either side. They were all relatively small, an oven, sink, and cabinets that were stocked well with supplies. All the ingredients were kept near the back, the larger counter and sink being where the teacher would demonstrate today’s course of the day, a large metal fridge resting on the back back wall alongside a pantry stacked full of ingredients. The chattering class goes silent, staring at the headmaster and vice headmaster.

Eyes widen, while others raise brows. What was going on? Where was their teacher? Did the pair have an important announcement to make, going door to door to reveal whatever they had planned? They got their answer soon enough when Kyoko greets them, not wanting to waste any time as she heads over to the large counter. 

“Your teacher is out for the day,” She explains quickly, coming to a stop behind the polished counter. She turns toward Naegi, giving him a small nod as if gesturing to him. “Me and headmaster Naegi will be substituting for the day, helping you all make a simple dish. Forgive us if this as an inconvenience, but there’s nothing to be done about the matter.”

The class turns back to the young man, curious on his next move. He tenses up before quickly walking over, not exactly used to substituting. “Ah, yeah!” He chirps, rubbing the nape of his neck as he stands beside Kyoko with a cheery grin. “We r-really are sorry about your teacher and all that! But let’s make the most of this day! I promise, it’ll be a fun day for each and every one of you!”

“What are we cooking?" 

The single voice that cut through the crowd of students made him stop in his tracks, stunned. The realization hits him about as hard as a semi-truck slamming into his body, feeling foolish that he hadn’t come up with an idea for a dish on the way here.

“Well, uh- what do you have?”

The class erupts in laughter, only enhancing his nervous state. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before sighing. He was fine, he’d be okay. After all, these students were still enjoying themselves right? Even if he had made a rather humiliating start. “Right, right.” He claps his hands together, Kyoko smiling beside him as the boy quickly bounces back. “Okay, what are you guys in the mood for? That’s...probably what I should’ve said in the first place.”

Again, the duo is met with odd stares, the class going abruptly quiet. Both find it just as awkward as the other, and in an attempt to close the silence, Naegi makes his way over to the large pantry, opening the door and rummaging through. Now, he was no expert in cooking, meaning he couldn’t really think of a possible dish with the pile of ingredients before him. Then, a voice rings out, much like his own personal savior.

“Naegi-kun?” Kyoko turns to the slightly panicked boy, the fridge open with swirls of cool air pouring out onto the room. “There’s a plentiful supply of vegetables, why don’t we prepare soup for today?”

That honestly didn’t sound like a bad idea. His smile returns, searching for spices and broth mix while he hears Kyoko searching through the fridge, both having already settled on the idea. He returns to the counter, dropping the armful of ingredients onto the countertop unceremoniously. “A-Alright,” he starts, trying to rid himself of his nervous demeanor. There was nothing to fret about, he was just teaching a class, not to mention he had Kyoko by his side to assist. The worst that could happen was that he made a bad impression or god forbid a student got injured under his watch. And it soon fades, taking in easy breaths and allowing the positives of what the class will bring them erasing any potential fear. Even if something bad did happen, they’d make up for it. But as of now, they should all prepare a hot meal to enjoy and chat amongst themselves! After all, teamwork was a valuable trait to have, and bonding over creating something, even as simple as vegetable soup, kept the young man's hope in bound.

“I guess you all should get into your assigned groups and-” No sooner had he said that did the rustle of dozens of chairs scraping against tile fill the room, surprised how quickly the students organized themselves into groups of four and stood beside their respective kitchen. He was impressed, then again he really shouldn’t given that it was long into the semester, meaning that the students had bountiful knowledge on the subject and how to behave, their skills ranging in quality considering it was a mix of ultimates and regular students. But they were all equal in the classroom, and within the entire school, working together in a single unit without bickering over who was better or worse.

The tan haired boy opens his mouth to say something the same moment the students search the fridge for an array of cold vegetables, ones commonly used in creating soup. However, he doesn’t find the words as one person from each group heads over to the pantry to gather more ingredients. Meanwhile, the rest of the students were setting up utensils, pots, and ladles for the dish, some already turning on the stove in preparation. Maybe it was too simple of a dish for these students, Makoto now unsure of just how far they’ve advanced in their teachings. He supposes it isn’t that big of a deal though.

A touch to his shoulder makes him jolt from his thoughts, only to be met with his partner leaning back ever so slightly. “Did you hear what I said?” She asks, her voice calm as usual.

He has to do a double take before shaking his head. “N-No, sorry about that Kyoko. Could you repeat that? I guess my head’s not in the game today.”

“It’s alright,” The lavender haired girl starts, gathering the vegetables into a strainer bowl. There’s no edge in her tone, bearing not a hint of anger towards him. Not that she would be anyhow. It was completely understandable for him to have days like this. In fact she’s grown used to it, knowing it was a result of trauma that wouldn’t go away so easily. She would never berate him on something he had trouble dealing with that was out of his control. “I wanted to know if you’d help me wash the vegetables?” She taps the edge of the metal bowl with a gloved finger. “And cut them?”

“Oh sure!” Naegi chirps, quickly grasping the edges of the bowl and hauling it over to the sink. He glances over his shoulder, grinning back at the other girl. “No problem Kirigiri-san!”

After a moment of deliberation, her eyes close, a small yet content smile on her face as she nods to her husband. “I appreciate your help Naegi-kun.”

“Of course, wh-why wouldn’t I?” Seriously, why wouldn’t he? He’d never turn down the opportunity to help someone unless he found himself incapable of doing so! With that, he turns on the sink, water leaking down the faucet and onto the vegetables. Naegi lifts up the bowl, water straining out from the small holes beneath it while the sound of a large metal pot being pushed onto the stove can be heard behind him. Ah, it must be Kirigiri. She’s probably adding the broth and spices to the mix. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to wash them, coming back over with a mildly dripping metal strainer and placing each clean vegetable onto the cutting board, starting with a pair of carrots.

It is only then, that the knife finally captures his attention, a sharp gleam of light catching the corner of his eye. Strange, he hadn’t seen it there on the counter before, finding that now was suddenly the perfect time for it to descend upon his sight like some supernatural apparition in a horror flick. The young man was not deterred, brushing off the peculiarity as nothing more than his eyes playing tricks on him. The weariness of the day had latched onto him, leeching off of his energy until there was nothing left but will and optimism. Naegi didn’t mind, of course he didn’t. A little bit of drowsiness was nothing compared to what he’s went through before, and it wasn’t going to stop him now. He reaches for the knife, able to see a partial glimpse of his own reflection in the clean blade.

An eerie sense of dread creeps unto him, mere seconds away from his fingers caressing the handle. He had stopped in his tracks completely, only now reconsidering at the last second. But his hand does not pull back, trapped in the same spot with trembling fingers. He curls them, urging them to move and do the simplest of functions by picking up a damn knife. But there was that feeling, one that felt as if he had been dropped into the coldest, most treacherous part of the ocean, sinking into an unknown void with who knows what lurking inside. It could’ve been that he was afraid of what was going to happen if he chose one way or the other, far too frightened to have his hand grab or rear away from the shimmering object as if it’d spring to life and attack him.

“Naegi-kun?”

Makoto jumps at the sound of his name, heart shooting up into his throat and skittering back far more than needed be. His wife offers a strange look in turn of his little freakout, the wooden spoon churning in the large pot coming to a stop. The small squeak of terror that came out of his mouth was no help either, only furthering Kyoko’s suspicion. “Is everything alright?"

As usual, her tone is laced with a concern only he could detect beneath the flat exterior of her voice, light purple eyes trained on him as she awaits a proper answer. Her eyes got to him first, his heart dropping right back down. He could see the emotion that betrays her worry, narrowed but with widened irises. He wasn’t the best at reading people, the boy himself being an open book, but the gaze that withheld their promise, teetering on the edge of breaking it made his chest ache. 

You promised if you felt any worse you’d tell me.

It’s clearly what her expression was saying, the silence only furthering the crackling tension while students continued to mill about nonchalantly in preparing their basic meal. Naegi swallows, his throat ungodly dry for an unknown reason. “Uh yeah, sorry about that.” He gives her a quick, apologetic smile with soft hazel eyes. “I started to zone out a little, nothing too bad.”

“Hm.”

That little noise is enough to sound off alarm bells in his head. What further cements it, is when she turns away from him and goes back to stirring, the pot beginning to reach a light simmer. It’s a miracle when she speaks again after slowly turning the spoon a few times. “I really think you should go to the nurse. Or take a rest inside your office."

Naegi remains in shock as she side-eyes him before tending to the soup once more, her mouth formed into a blank line that reveals nothing. But what she had just said, revealed everything and more. Kyoko was one who kept things to herself, especially concerning her ow wellbeing. Now, during a case she’d always be willing to give input, but as the gears in her head turned, she never told anyone of the puzzle pieces she had clicked back together until the time was right. That, or if she were to completely trust someone. And Naegi, absolutely fit that criteria.

But shouldn’t that make him more on edge? That she’d blatantly tell him what she thinks would be best for him? Had the seeds of distrust between the new couple already been planted? The guilt began to hammer down on him, much like each hard, rhythmic thump against his chest. 

“I can handle it Kyoko.” He really should be taking her advice, she knows best after all. But the fact of the matter was, the truth would eventually come out. He’d have to tell her why he was so skittish about a knife of all things. He could easily say it was trauma from the first killing game, but being blatantly dishonest was just not in his nature. His one little secret had actually began to chip away at him, feeling as though he were lying to Kirigiri every day, waking up and looking into her trusting eyes, only to withhold one little bit of information. Did this even matter? It was one little thing, surely Kyoko doesn’t tell him everything! And Makoto was an a very open person ninety percent of the time, what was one thing he wished to keep personal? It would more likely than not hurt Kyoko anyhow, and their relationship.

There was no longer any interruptions or suggestions, Makoto’s hand shaking terribly as he made the first cut. He has to swallow in order to hold back a whine when the knife gets stuck halfway into the vegetable. He blames himself, honestly. He had been cutting so cautiously like the blade were going to lift up and slice him that he didn’t even think to put a little more pressure on it. He leans forward, making a crude attempt to shield himself away from Kirigiri’s field of view. He finds the handle eerily cold against his warm skin, blood rushing in his ears and against his quickening pulse.

The spark of an idea crosses his mind, one that sends his mind to a complete stop perfectly in sync with the soft thunk of the knife hitting the cutting board, the carrot slices having clear signs of being cut in an amateur fashion. It was like a lighter, metal constantly grinding against it with a single flick of the wrist, a hungry flame desiring to bloom to life and linger for however long it can remain useful.

In that small fleck of a spark, he thinks about what cold steel against his neck would feel like.

It wasn’t that weird, right? He had is mind tracked onto the knife while subconsciously thinking of how heavy his pulse was flowing, so it made sense that the two would briefly cross paths, didn’t it? Either that, or denial had begun to settle in. Maybe he was constantly living in denial, even though he had accepted all the hardships of the past besides that one incident.

His mind starts to trail back, the artificial lighting of the room being washed away by blue hues with red beaming down upon him, looking around frantically as the friendly classroom morphs and dips into the endless halls of Future Foundation headquarters, hazel eyes widening at the sight of a large monitor near the back of the room, the symbol of despair displayed proudly on the screen. The young man stops completely, terror gripping his erratically thumping heartbeat. 

What was going on? Where the hell was he? One moment he was happily by Kyoko’s side, ready to help out his students, and the next, he’s been locked into a nightmare that felt all too real. He had to have blacked out, right? It was the only possible explanation for this, either that or he had finally cracked and started to hallucinate. He wasn’t completely wrong on the latter, the dim world that plagued his mind flickering in and out of reality. Between the brief glimpses of the classroom he’d get, he’d spot judgemental eyes glowering upon him, most of them that of confusion. He’s so tired of being judged, being shamed for crimes he did not commit….

But it was his fault, wasn’t it? He deserved to be looked down upon like lowly scum; he had sent all his friends to death, and if not that, roped them into deadly situations all because he still had a pulse. It was sickening to think about, the fact that he could’ve given up his life so easily in order to keep those he loved safe. But what kind of Ultimate Hope would he be if he simply gave up? Then again, what kind of Ultimate Hope would get their friends killed in the first place, only to be thrust into another killing game with even higher stakes?

He staggers back, the kitchen knife that had been resting plainly on the counter warping into a curved dagger through intermediate flashes. Naegi groans and clutches the sides of his head, eyes squeezed shut. He had to wake up, he had to escape this terrible hell he’s been plunged into. He had to-

What feels like artificial lights buzzing over him comes to a stop, slowly blinking his eyes open. He dares to look up, a bead of sweat trailing down his brow. At first, he’s relieved, having settled back into the classroom. But something gnawed at the back of his mind. It looked...different. What caught his attention first, was that the room was dimmer, the front of the room seeming to be poorly lit. That wasn’t too big of a deal, given that the students were already at their kitchens working away. 

It was the students who caught his attention, making his entire being cease as he looks onward with distraught hazel eyes.

They all gave off the facade of being normal and hard at work as if nothing was wrong. The students divulged in the ingredients, dumping them in and cutting up whatever was next. What bothered the young man, was that the liquid within each simmering pot had turned into a viscous hot pink, dripping down the silver metal. He forces himself to shut his eyes again and re-open them. For a brief flash he sees the bright colored blood that has haunted him for so, so  long, but his nerves are soothed temporarily when it remains as nothing more than normal, plain soup, the lights in the front now back to their original state.

Maybe he really did need to go see the nurse. If not the hospital. Kyoko was right, he really wasn’t fit for the task of substituting, at least not in his current state. He takes a shaky breath, hoping he hadn’t caught anyone’s attention besides a brief glimpse from the students. He wasn’t even sure if that was real either. He smiles, looking forward to getting a proper diagnosis and hopefully something to aid whatever’s rooted itself deep within him. Sure, he was scared, but fear would do nothing other than increase his paranoia.

“Hey Kyoko, I-”

The second he turns to her, a scream rings out, jumping back. The warm metal pot she once tended to now crudely shoved aside, blue flames licking up the scarred, burnt flesh of her hands as they rest over the stove. The lavender haired girl is intently focused on her task, expression casual as can be like she was completely numb to it. A sensation much like needles grazing against his back pierces him little by little, only able to witness the horrific display. 

“St-Stop you’re gonna hurt yourself!” His hands ball up into fists, arms resting at his sides. His body screams at him to move, that his beloved was in danger! And yet, he remains in place, like a silent command given to a loyal dog. He bites his lip, the pressure against his arm increasing as it attempts to make even a significant twitch in the invisible iron tight binds. He doesn’t budge an inch, eyes now locked onto the young woman who seems to be ignoring his existence. That is, up until now.

Kirigiri turns to him, one eye dull and half lidded. His breath hitches when he sees that her other eye had been swollen shut, a dark purple staining one half of her face, able to see the dead veins stick out against her cheek. Blood trails from the poisoned side of her eye, her expression darkening. What brings Makoto to snap, is the recognition in her lavender gaze, as if this hallucination were playing out in real life. But, such a stare had gone from casual, to burning as deeply as the flames, an aura of hatred  for the boy radiating off her. Kyoko’s stature was cold and expressionless, but her face said it all, a single eye narrowed with her mouth set into a harsh scowl. She looks him over as if there was filth beside her, that alone sending a genuine whimper through Naegi. He would ask what he’s done wrong to deserve such spite, but he knows exactly why, and Kyoko didn’t need to repeat it back to him. The moment their eyes lock the pair both knew how truly awful he was, parading around in a mask of hope to pretend as if he didn’t sentence all his former friends to death, and endanger the only survivors. He had wronged Kirigiri the most during the final killing game, and it had carried over even to this day, still keeping secrets from the person he’s poured all his respect and appreciation into.

Of course keeping one little thing to himself, was what would tip him over the edge.

The beginnings of a scream rise in his throat once he was able to move again, only realizing now his face had been stained with tears, taking in a ragged breath. He’s cut off before the horrifying shriek can leave him however, gasping when she finally speaks.

“Why don’t you just do it already?”

The flesh of her hands had long since peeled away, leaving behind blackened ash in the shape of a hand that flaked and cracked, her eye ever living his, Naegi’s eyes having specs of red dancing within them, although it was barely noticeable amongst the hazel.  Her voice was so casual, so clear and well-spoken. It was a simple question, one he could come up with a million excuses for but never have a proper answer because he had no reason for not doing it already, save for being selfish with his own life.

But that wasn’t Kyoko’s voice.

What instead came out of the young woman, was higher in pitch, cynicism and boredom laced within the context of the query. It was a tone that reminded him of the mesmerizing scent of bubblegum and death, memories of blonde pigtails bouncing erratically and a pleaded skirt moving in time with its owner as she preached despair so passionately, putting up a convincing argument that ultimately fell through.  There were no tricks this time. No tip-toeing around the subject until she gave up and revealed it once she realized she was getting nowhere, and there were certainly no unhinged mannerisms emanating off of her, just a calm question being asked as if it were a regular occurrence.

Upon instruction, he says nothing, mind nosediving into autopilot as his hand reaches over the counter. Something cold greets his grip, the sound of polished granite scraping being drowned out before it comes to a sudden stop. His body seems to slump, head tilted to one side with his lips parted slightly, hazelish red eyes fully blank. He almost looked akin to that of a curious dog finding a treasure, his attention focusing in on Kyoko, or whatever bore the disguise of her. Not like he cared anymore, he’d always listen to her, no matter how she appeared. Because that was true love, wasn’t it? Listening to your partner unconditionally and holding onto every word they say because he has to make it up to Kyoko after disfiguring and indirectly sending her into a coma. If she told him to jump off a cliff, he’d do so without hesitation. If she had asked something similar before now, he’d question her and refuse, thinking it was horribly out of character for her to do something in such a manner. But now he understood! Of course he’d give his life to her, because she’s done the exact same! Wether it be out of petty revenge or keeping her alive, why wouldn’t he sacrifice himself to her? What a great excuse that would be instead of having to crush her heart by confessing that he experienced despair for the first time, all because of her fake death being the stake in the ground that cemented that path!

The thought of protecting Kirigiri, the thought of giving himself up to her and having his heart stop beating forever, made a euphoric warmth encompass him, his blank expression finally turning into a smile.

It’d all turn out fine, it’s what she wants.

The second she hears him stagger back Kyoko's gaze is settled onto Naegi, eyes widening slightly when she notices the wrecked state he’s in. She keeps her hands gripped tightly on the sides of the pot. At first she wants to make sure the liquid didn’t become scolding hot and burn, but that quickly became of little importance to her, looking the young man up and down as he stares back, completely mortified for an unknown reason. Her heart begins to race, quickly coming to the conclusion that his petrified stare had to do with his trauma.

“Naegi-kun,” She starts softly. Her surprise turns into a concerned frown, his eyes not even wavering when she addresses him. Didn’t he hear her? They were only a foot or two away from each other. Unless of course, he had begun to dissociate. Kyoko brushes a rather annoying strand of hair out of her face, her focus completely settled on the tan haired boy. Part of her mind told her to run over to him, to embrace him and tell him that she was there for him, and always will be, no conditions required. She wanted to reassure him that he had nothing to do with the outcome of her fate during the killing game at Future Foundation headquarters, and he shouldn’t carry around such a heavy weight of guilt. It was a bit hypocritical, given that she carries her own baggage, but it wasn’t nearly as heavy as Makoto’s, even though he insisted that he wanted to help her with her own form of guilt.  

That’s another thing to appreciate, his thoughtfulness, fully willing to put others above himself at the drop of a hat. But right now, it was his turn to have the feeling reciprocated, to be validated and told that while his guilt would take time to adjust to, it absolutely doesn’t define him or make him a bad person.

She can’t do any of it.

As much as her instincts plead for her to go over and comfort Naegi, it’d make the situation worse. Touching him could result in worsening the panic attack, and she had never really seen how he reacted to physical touch when in this state. The one time she did however, was when she had talked him down and eased herself over to him, gently intertwining an ungloved hand with his before caressing his cheek. She had calmed him before making a move, and if Makoto didn’t even respond to his name, then this was something to truly be worried about. She didn’t even want to get into how the students would react once they caught onto the fact that their headmaster was in the middle of reliving a horribly traumatic event. The only way to get to him properly, was if they were alone.

She takes a step forward, something Naegi also doesn’t pay any mind to, clutching the sides of his head with a low, pitiful whine. Kyoko turns to the class, her gaze narrowing. “Class,” She speaks sternly, dozens of eyes quick to snap their attention onto their vice headmaster. “Me and headmaster Naegi need to speak alone. It’s an important manner, so I’m sorry if this comes as an inconvenience. Turn off all your stoves and shuffle out of the classroom in an orderly fashion. You’ll be able to gather your belongings at the end of class.”

She had expected no retaliation, assuming that her voice although strict, had care etched into it, letting the students know that this was a private discussion, one they couldn’t listen in on. She was surprised to meet widened eyes and agape jaws, spotting one or two students pulling out their phones to record whatever was so damn entertaining about her instructions. Irritation brims within her, about to ask the class to disperse again when it dawns on her that all those shocked gazes aren’t focused on her.

The second she turns to Naegi, her world collapses.

Ushering students out of the room is the last thing on her now panicked mind, the image of Naegi looking over her with a kitchen knife glinting in his grasp slashing fear across her entirely. His blank expression seethes into her, lacking any form of life and vibrancy they once held. In fact, something’s very off about the once gorgeous hazel that normally dots his eyes. Kirigiri attempts to collect herself, inching closer to Naegi, her hand preparing to raise in order to remove the weapon from him. She’s sensible enough to know he wouldn’t turn it on her, never in a million years could she even dream or picture such a thing. And judging by that vacant stare, he was awaiting instructions, or contemplating one his falsely implanted visions of her had given moments before. Naegi struggled a lot with his trauma, and she was even aware of his hallucinations that would happen once in a blue moon, but if she were under the hypothesis that his visions were creating scenarios and faux words coming from his friends and others, then this had escalated into something far more dangerous than she could ever imagine. But she has to wonder, one single thing:

 
What was his tipping point that brought him to where he was now?

As the clean blade slowly rises closer to him, his knuckles white and shaking from how hard he was gripping the handle, Kyoko swears she can see his eyes flicker red.

She cries out, a single “Don’t!” before any harm can be done, the knife smacked out of his hands in an ungraceful manner, clattering onto the tile and sliding off into a corner to be discarded.

“Naegi-kun!” Kyoko’s voice is filled with emotion, a rarity in of itself. She isn’t sure if it’s anger, terror, or sadness filled within the name she shouts out, hoping her love is brought back down to earth. She removes a single glove and clutches his wrist delicately, hand still in the same position as if he were still holding onto the knife. “Please,” Kirigiri didn’t mean for herself to sound that desperate, nor did she count on her eyes softening as she checks over him, looking for any other noticeable signs that he wasn’t in the same reality as her. “C-Come back to me, okay?”

The small tremble in her voice is what causes Naegi to blink a few times, surprised that she had stammered in a tone that sounded like it was on the verge of heartbreak. His eyes go back to hazel, and after closing his eyes momentarily to press a palm to his aching temple, they’re now a forest green. “K-Kyoko?” He asks, wondering if it really was her. He’s given all the evidence he needs when he glances to his free hand, an ungloved, slightly scarred hand clutching his wrist. If not that, then the worry dappled within the lavender of her eyes was enough.

“I…” It takes him a good minute to process what he’s done, what he was about to do. Somehow, he still managed to hurt the one he loves, even if he were intentionally trying to avoid it. He frowns, lowering his arm and moving his hand so that it connected with Kyoko’s. Neither of them had noticed the class had already silently exited the room, now understanding why they were supposed to leave in the first instance.

“I have to tell you something.”

“You don’t have to say anything right now, alright? You didn’t do anyth-”

“It’s not that.” He’s quick to interrupt, catching Kyoko off guard from the sudden shift in his demeanor. “I’ve been keeping something from you, a-and it’s about the final killing game.” 

Curiosity sparks in her eyes, a prickle of exasperation spilling into her. They had promised not to keep things from one another, not anymore. It only led to trouble, but at this point she was well aware that Naegi had discovered the realization too. So, there was no point in pestering him about it at the moment. “I don’t mean to offend you, but now would be the worst time to speak of an event that scarred you.”

“Kyoko,” Makoto says again, his tone still soft as ever but glazed with seriousness. “It’s extremely important, i-it’ll let you know why I a-almost did what I did just now.” 

The detective was never one to shy away from receiving information, especially helpful information at that. Her concern for Naegi was above everything else though, but because of his insistence, she couldn't help but budge. “Go on.”

“Before I say anything, I just want you to know that I-I am so sorry for keeping this from you. I thought if y-you found out, you’d feel guilty and blame yourself for what happened.”

That particular statement makes her raise a brow. Admittedly, she did feel guilty from time to time about having her “death” leave a harsh impact on Naegi, but she did it knowing that he’d pull through, which he did! But not without consequences for the both of them. “I’m...not really sure what exactly could make me experience guilt, besides my "absence" within the killing game of course. So I can only assume that whatever you want to tell me is tied to this.”

Makoto nods slowly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Y-Yeah, kind of.” He sucks in a slow, deep breath before exhaling, trembling a little as he finally recalls the one tale he’s never confessed to. “A-After you had been poisoned, we found your notebook, and what was inside. Kyoko, I….I know why you kept those notes from me, about the monitors. It’s the same reason you didn’t want me to find out your NG Code, because you thought that if I had found out about the two before the time limit was up, then I would’ve…”

Kyoko glances away shyly, bringing her free hand up to her arm. She clears her throat awkwardly, a bit put off by the fact that he knew. “Yes, maybe it was wrong of me to think you’d resort to such a drastic measure, however you’re always willing to sacrifice yourself for others, you even did so back in the first killing game.”

“No, it’s fine Kyoko.” Makoto finds himself able to smile from her comment. “I don’t blame you, I totally get it. A high stakes killing game, the threat of you having your life cut short, and my own being the key to keeping it intact, well, I probably would have done something crazy…” His voice drops into a small murmur. “And I...kind of did.”

“What?” Kyoko hadn’t quite caught that.

“Uhm-” He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure. “Well, y-you see, when we had gone through your notes, it was just a theory of yours at the time. None of us really knew if it was true. On the bright side-” He was trying far too hard to try and put an ounce of a positive spin on this. “You were right. The uh, the monitors play a video that brainwashes its victims into wanting to kill themselves. That, and it drives them into despair, which enhances their suicidal intentions. Th-The video takes all your guilt a-and trauma and...personifies it. It creates a nightmare that’s an embodiment of all the negative things you’ve experienced and feel towards yourself. It’ll keep going until...you break, and once you see the knife, you’re already too far gone to resist.”

The lavender haired girl is quick to process the information, raising a hand up to her chin. “I see,” She says calmly, running it over in her head multiple times before the clear picture shows itself. Kyoko had never really been informed about the monitors after her recovery, setting it aside in the hopes of a better, brighter future. And the monitors had all been destroyed anyway, so there was another reason not to pursue it. Then, something clicks, the next question brimming on the tip of her tongue. “How...How did you find this out?”

Judging by Makoto’s hard, sudden flinch, she already knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Well, she already had an idea of an answer, but she hated the idea that it would be true.

“Someone needed to volunteer to test out if your theory was true or not…” A solemn expression crosses his face, his tone turning uncharacteristically defeated. 

The pair spend the longest time staring one another, waiting for the other to make a move or speak up. Makoto is well aware Kyoko will understand in no time, if she already hasn’t figured it out at this point. He can see it hit her, even if she had already known. It was like it had bubbled to the surface, entering the forefront of her mind with no other possible option. She pulls back from him, trying to keep a calm stance. She couldn’t hide her wide, shocked eyes though, still awestruck by the truth.

So this is what was kept from her?

Kyoko isn’t an irrational person, but as she continues to pry, all her questions are vague and indirect, with no mention of Makoto having any involvement. “You said the video brainwashes the victims into despair,” She starts, concern edging in her voice. Another thought crosses her mind, one purely out of denial. “And nobody has survived their suicide attempts from the monitors, and even if they could, I doubt they'd come out unscathed. So how would-”

“Kyoko, please.” He really didn’t like seeing her do this to herself, pushing away the truth just to keep her vision of the bright young man with untainted optimism that she fell in love with. She knew it too, and once he had called her out on it, her facade breaks.

Kirigiri felt childish for even attempting to bring doubt into the conversation. She accepts it moments later, a deep sigh leaving her, followed by an uncontrolled icy shudder.

It all fell into place. He didn’t want her to find out because if she did, she’d be mortified to know that her death pushed him closer to the monitors, closer to despair. It was what she tried to avoid in the first place, but inevitability just had to rear its ugly head and make a mockery of her sacrifice. Kyoko wouldn’t dare blame Naegi, hoping he didn’t assume that. “Naegi-kun, I...I appreciate your honesty.” She finally manages to say. “I don’t think it was in your best interest to keep something like that hidden from me, especially given what happened just now. But I can’t bring myself to blame you.” 

The shame plastered on Makoto’s face is quick to be replaced by surprise, having expected to be chewed out and resented for the knowledge being brought to light. He could still spot the hesitance amongst her body language though, clearly unsettled and going through her own process of the revealed secret. The thing was, and one he secretly hopes Kyoko wouldn’t figure out, is that the state of the victim's corpses depended on the amount of guilt, ranging from mild to brutal depending on the severity. And because the more guilt, the more damage, the fact of the matter was:

Naegi would’ve mutilated himself.

There would’ve been nothing left but a smear on the walls needing to be cleaned up, his body barely being recognizable. Speaking of, her next question snaps him out of that thought.

“How did you survive? Did you resist somehow?”

He heard the hopeful inflection in her voice on the second question, heart aching when he has to tell her the harsh reality. “No, sorry, I barely even hesitated.” He bites back a grimace when Kyoko looks back incredulously. “Sakakura stopped me at the last second. Literally.” He was mid swing when the dagger was knocked from his hands, so “last second” was putting it lightly if anything.

“Ah,” From what she was told, Juzo had died during her comatose state, surprised that he had opted to save Naegi despite their encounters being hostile throughout the entirety of the final killing game. “That makes sense."

“Kyoko i’m so sor-”

“No, don’t be.” She begins, inching closer to Naegi. It really didn't need to be asked if he snapped out of it or not, given that he was still the same cheery, optimistic young man from before. “I understand you wanting to uncover the truth Makoto, that’s noble of you. But it’s evident that this has left some kind of aftereffect on you.” 

“What? No, i-it’s just a part of everything else. It’s….It’s all connected.”

“Are you sure?” Kyoko presses herself against Naegi, slowly wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug. Displaying affection wasn’t her strong suit, but she tends to make an exception for Naegi from time to time. “This is the first time I’ve seen you react so severely.” She’s seen him scream, sob, and even writhe on the floor one time, but never has she encountered one of his flashbacks where he threatened his own life.

“If...If it worries you that much then we can look into it,” Naegi leans further into the hug, finding her embrace mixed with the tinge of sweet lavender coating his senses to be pleasing. He couldn’t let something like this happen again, he couldn’t let Kyoko fret over something that he needed to take care of. He wanted her to be happy and feel comfortable, not constantly on edge waiting for his next panic attack. Of course he knew she’d always be willing to assist him during these relapses, but he didn’t want it to escalate into her having to restrain him or walk in on him doing something awful to himself.

“We could set up an appointment, if you’re comfortable with it.”

Makoto chuckles and brings his hand to the darkened side of her cheek, his thumb hovering over the fragile skin. “Yeah, that sounds perfect. We should probably pick a date where were both free.”

Kyoko sighs, a mischievous smile falling upon her lips. “At this rate, we may as well consider the appointment a couple’s day.”

The young man laughs shortly, considering trying to figure out a way for them to spend more time together during and out of work. “Yeah, you’re kind of right.” He sighs, the smile remaining on is face. “How about afterwards we actually go out and enjoy ourselves, something the both of us can do?”

“I’ve been wondering about that myself, Naegi-kun.” Kyoko comments, a teasing edge grazing her tone.

“Let’s set up an appointment first, and then see what we can do. But for now…” He turns back towards the front of the class, walking beside Kyoko with their hands clasped against one another. “Wait, what are we going to tell the students?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kyoko says quickly, meeting Makoto’s gaze. “I want you to head to the teacher’s lounge, if you would. I’m sure someone will be there to check up on you while I handle the students.”

“Actually, I think I’ll go to the nurse,” He admits, a rose hue forming on his cheeks. “It’s probably for the best anyhow.”

“If that’s what you prefer, then I won’t stop you. But let me know if anything starts up again.”

“Of course Krigiri-san,”

Naegi smiles and opens the door for her, the pair quickly strutting out. They separate seconds later, the young man taking a sharp turn down the hall, voices of confused students echoing throughout before fading away, footsteps clacking against the floor as he makes his way to the nurse’s office. He finds himself upon a door with the symbol of a red cross on it, surrounded by a white background. He smiles, taking in a gentle breath before opening the door, silently telling himself that he’ll be okay as the nurse greets him.