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It was the scream that jerked him into action, throwing open his door to an empty central area. It had sounded like Tenko, but no sign of her or a struggle was here. It had sounded so close, almost right in his head, how could he be too late to help anyone? His inner voice seemed to be taking it worse than he was, though it was oddly muddled and muted, not the clear declaration it usually was, Disappointing he could understand, but boring? Someone could be in trouble and the voice only wanted to express that it was not interesting enough, or too short? He had to do something, yet the room seemed as muddled as his thoughts. The robot had to close his eyes, clutching at his head to try and wait out the disorientation.
The mastermind was dead.
Rantaro had done what he had set out to accomplish. End the killing game. Tsumugi Shirogane was a lifeless corpse, head cracked open by the very weapon she had intended to use.
This was a good thing, mostly. Killing was wrong, but understandable considering she had been the one putting them all through this strange killing game.
Yet this was also the worst thing? It was boring, it was too soon, it was a lame cop out. It could not end here. Rantaro had to pay for his crime, and then the game would continue as planned.
He didn’t want that? He did? The voices did.
How did he know any of this?
The voices demanded more.
The show must go on.
Kiibo did not want it to continue. He could manage to wrangle that thought out as his own opinion, though his certainty wavered with every new declaration of annoyance. Ignoring or denying the voice did nothing but dump even more feedback, disappointment, anger, even hatred. Too much to sort through. He? They? Demanded he act.
The show MUST go on.
He knew the mastermind was dead, as he had seen the body. From a camera he was unaware of, oblivious to, reporting to him. It liked that it could transmit directly to him, now that his connection to the entire network had been restored.
The voices. The audience. Only here for their own amusement. He was a puppet for them to play with.
You exist to entertain. That is your only purpose. That is why you were built.
His hands drop, fingers still half curled into fists. His memories contradicted this. His memories were false.
If the game continues, the voices will be pleased. The only reason he exists is to make them happy. Rantaro will be ‘wrong’ about Tsumugi’s identity as the mastermind, and they will have a whole new mystery to solve.
Didn’t he want to be more than that? To be like the others, like his friends? A person?
He never wanted anything Tsumugi Shirogane had not put in his head first. He was a machine, not a real person. Didn’t he want to go off script? Be something meaningful?
THE SHOW MUST GO ON.
The other voices quieted, locked away from influencing him as his left eye opened and switched, a red haze overlaying the room, revealing the resources he had control over and commands he could make. The voices could not be allowed to see who the new mastermind was, after all.
Monokuma asked the question, still hearing it in the bear’s voice even as only a message read in his head.
So what’s the plan, boss?
This was wrong. He didn’t want this. Yet the information Team DanganRonpa had dumped in his hard drive made one thing very clear. As their robot, he did not really have much of a choice in the matter. Either he did it now, himself, or he could be reset back to default and do it anyway. At least as himself, he might be able to tone down the brutality?
Make the body discovery announcement.
The horrified gasps that come from his classmates, his friends, his enemies is both discomforting and thrilling. He had caused that. He had meant something to all of them, in that brief moment. He dropped his connection to Motherkuma and the rest of the mastermind resources, Monokuma’s AI knew how to prep for a class trial without any input from him. That, and if he mentioned overhearing something he had no logical way to hear, the mystery of if there was a backup mastermind would be solved too quickly.
The voices returned as his eye snapped back to the normal blue hue, back to the more consistent singular idea at any given moment. Go and see what happened. They were excited, surprised, pleased. At least obeying that command did not feel as much like a betrayal.
Rantaro had the sense to admit he had killed Tsumugi when the entire class had gathered and the bears asked who would claim the first blood perk. After all, everyone already knew he had done it.
Monokuma had a lot of fun with it, mocking everyone for even thinking there was a mastermind. Did they all like thinking Rantaro totally had a good reason and wasn’t just using this ‘mastermind’ excuse to look better in their eyes before he left? Ryoma had been incensed, raising his voice as he asked Rantaro why he had killed her, after he had already offered to die instead if he just wanted out.
Honestly, he did not have to meddle much. Monokuma and the kubs did more than enough to spark tension and throw doubt that a mastermind existed.
After all, Kiibo could act on his own, who said they couldn’t? Who said there had to be someone behind it?
He’d been properly offended, his anger genuine. “I am nothing like you!”
He was exactly like them, and he hated it.
He spared the others from knowing ‘leaving’ was getting to see the airless 'outside world', ordering Monokuma to cut the feed once the door was open to maintain the surprise. It was too early for them to know of the devastated 'world' outside.
It was too painful to watch the one who managed to end the killing game try to scrabble back to life giving air, only to be denied by a savage kick from the Exisals. For him to die thinking he had been wrong, mistaken, possibly killed an innocent...
It was unfair. Yet this is what they all wanted. So the ‘Ultimate Survivor’ suffocated alone, the others still getting to have the hope that Rantaro would get word out.
A peek outside would be all the crueler with his rotting corpse on display, hands outstretched to a worthless, meaningless hope.
Even though the Monokubs managed to mess up the motive delivery, he did not need to act as the mastermind. Kirumi getting her own video had sufficed to get desire to kill in the air, no matter how hard Kaede tried to get the group to stick together and ignore the videos. Kokichi had been a major help in making sure Ryoma had seen his own video with his viewing party scheme, while also being an active antagonist during the trial. He may ultimately have led them to the right conclusion, but it was unlikely anyone else would notice it off hand.
So this was how Tsumugi intended to remain in the shadows. Who would suspect her when there was this relentless troublemaker front and center? Who would notice that she wasn’t actively participating that often, or only parroting things someone else said first?
He had it just as easy. After all, his existence was a joke. Robots aren’t people, unfortunately for all of them. He wanted to be one, but that was the punchline. No wonder all of them ignored any upset responses he made to such comments. It was like being offended about the sky being blue. Being mad at reality, at something that was not going to change. None of them would still be in this game if he could truly be a person.
Kaede managed to help Shuichi let go of his need to hide behind his cap, to face the reality that Kirumi had killed Ryoma, and died for it. That Maki was indeed an assassin and hid it.
It struck him as somewhat cruel to force the timid detective to face the truth head on. There were no kind truths to be found here. Deflecting it, embracing the lie that escape was possible would be kinder.
Though they may die before they learned that truth.
Korekiyo’s actions made him question if a mastermind was even needed to keep this game active. Beyond choosing when the motive should go out, he got to play student. The sheer irony of the mastermind being in Angie’s Student Council didn’t escape him. Any harmony brought through her actions he’d be obligated to break, but it was nice to be wanted for something that wasn’t reprehensible for a change. The voices usually voted in favour of spending time with the others, which was always difficult. Kiibo wanted to be their friends, to help them. On some level he did still care for them, wanted their approval, hungered for it as if it would make him more human. That may be why none of them realized he was lying to them. He could almost forget he was the monster behind the curtain while the sun was up, averting his eyes as Kaito tried to hide his illness. A nasty little virus that he had delivered to the astronaut, making sure morale would drop near the ending stretch. Yet he dared to try and be their friends? Blaming the voices would be easier, and he did nothing but lie these days, what was one more to himself?
Would any of them actually believe the pain he expressed learning of each death was genuine? That he pitied them and mourned the loss?
The executions made him doubtful. Anyone creating such painful deaths clearly did not care for anything but the spectacle and misery. Shelve those false friendships, remember what you are. The blood of four people is on your hands.
Miu’s death shatters that flimsy pretense. The only one who saw a machine as worth knowing, saw it as a positive instead of a detriment was dead. The last flashback light had been too much, it had pushed her over an edge and he could never take that back. A few of the students seemed to notice she was off, but did not press. Her fevered work to modify the VR program to cover her tracks was precise, careful. Her tracks would be covered, her target would die, and then the rest would fall shortly after. He could step in, try and talk her down from this murder plot. If he was a friend. If he could explain how he'd found out.
He couldn't.
So he let Monokuma take Kokichi’s deal, thinking he had a plan to protect himself from Miu’s plot. He had managed to figure it out without the help of being to see everywhere, after all. He had been right, Kokichi did have a plan, said plan involved killing her. Of course it had, anything the mastermind had a cold hand in would lead to death. It had been a stupid hope, thinking it might have kept both of them alive a little bit longer. (He needed her to build things, they’d been getting along okay, did the answer have to be death?) Kokichi reveled in the negative attention, drawing all eyes to him. It was all lies, but everyone seemed to buy his declaration. Couldn’t they see his smile was a bit fixed, that he barely stopped to breathe as he ‘gloated’ about being better than them, how he felt nothing for Gonta? That wasn’t joy, it was hysteria. This was a ploy, but what he intended to accomplish with it, the robot couldn’t understand. Maybe he would have fallen for it if he couldn't see how the boy trembled while hidden and alone.
So he kept his hands off and ‘hated’ the smaller boy with the rest.
Having someone play at being the mastermind and locking down all his firepower had been unexpected. It was bold, to try and flush out the true mastermind like this. Kokichi had almost slipped when Himiko pointed out Rantaro’s corpse, but managed to keep up the farce. The motive card had only shown the video after all, and Tsumugi had made that before the grisly new addition to the scene.
Even Kaede’s endless optimism faltered with Kaito a coughing, bleeding hostage to insure their good behaviour. Shuichi was left to keep Maki back on his own, having to point out they had to be careful to save Kaito later.
Really, the ploy was genius. Bore the mastermind into action and catch them. It wasn’t as if Kokichi could account for his ability to fabricate new flashback lights on a whim.
He clutched the new flashback light for a long time, the urge to simply smash it and let the voices be bored was incredibly strong. A pointless sentiment. At least it was almost funny that he had to fall back on his original purpose, to be a bringer of hope in order to get the murder everyone wanted.
Managing to blank out all the cameras and hiding the survivor in an Exisal to obscure the killer and victim was exciting in a way. If he lost like this, if Monokuma could not know the facts of the case, the game may truly end. That would be fine by him.
Shuichi was simply too much of a seeker of truth to realize they should be taking the offered lie and running with it, to let it rest when he could only guess who was inside that red Exisal. Instead the detective worked with him, helped Monokuma determine the reality of the case. Only when it was too late did he realize handing the mastermind the answer was a mistake.
How much courage had it taken to wait under a slow crushing death? How much had Kaito needed to even press that button?
If the voices truly pitied those who died, why were they here? They wanted to help, to push through. This was only happening for their sake!
Kiibo may have let a bit slip there by admitting to Kaito that he believed the final words Kokichi had said to the astronaut were true, but none of the others questioned the robot. Kaito’s death was a little more pressing than the passing words of some silly blue eyed machine.
Monokuma may not have been thrilled with Kaito dying before his execution was finished, but he didn’t care. The flying debris that almost hurt the others was more concerning. Was it foolish to help people that you had been tormenting and killing the entire time? Yes.
Still, it felt better to do so. He was going to need to head to his lab for a quick fix, perhaps he could excuse himself from the final exploration that way.
They would all know the truth soon, the voices would have their ending, and they would all despise him. At least it would be over.
Monokuma was happy to tell the students they had to determine the future of the gopher project and set them loose to explore the remaining hidden rooms and the planted clues, only Rantaro’s room remaining locked. The classic hope and despair final vote, either a risky trip back to space, discovering a new place to live, or simply give up and let the human race die here in safety. Not that there were enough people to even try and continue the human race with the chosen settings, but that would be for the post show nitpickers, his friend victims would not likely think that far ahead. From what he could tell they had already dismissed the possibility of Kaede having a twin as false. (Which was fine, it wasn't like he made for a convincing twin. He probably should have just tossed it.)
He would argue that they all stay here, regardless of if they chose to discover who the mastermind was or not. That was his job now. Did he want them to find the whole truth? No.
Yet he would give it to them if they pushed.
When Shuichi expressed his belief in Kokichi, that his mastermind plot had been for a reason, the robot could only sigh.
Why couldn’t he believe in him by just taking the lie?
His grip tightened on the stand as the conversation returned to the mastermind. Maki, too sensible, too logical.
“We can’t vote on something like this if the mastermind is among us, this whole ‘trial’ is pointless.”
“Didn’t Rantaro just make that up? Not that it mattered..."
“No, Shuichi thought there was one too. There was no reason to have a hidden door like that if there wasn’t someone hiding among us, remember?” Kaede shook her head at Himiko’s question, brow wrinkled as she pondered.
“Did we ever see it get used? It could be a false door?” Kiibo offered, struggling to keep the resignation out of his voice. They never found the card before he swiped it from Tsumugi's room.
“We got to go in there while you were gone.” the detective clarified. “It definitely isn’t fake. What I don’t get is why Monokuma wants to push some stay or go vote now. To protect the mastermind from being discovered? Kokichi must have realized something to put a target on his back like that.”
“So we just need to figure out who the mastermind is, get the answer out of them and go from there,” Maki gave everyone a sharp glare, only Shuichi managed to keep from flinching.
“Um.” Kaede stopped looking down, looking more upset than confident. “Tsumugi absolutely was the mastermind, right Shuichi?”
He nodded stiffly, averting his eyes. “The secret passage, the fact she managed to get there completely unseen, there’s no doubt she was the mastermind.”
Kaede was looking at him now. She knew. It was practically written on her face. The confusion, the betrayal was painful even if he deserved far more than that for this. “Could it be? Kiibo are you...the mastermind?”
He still had to try to dissuade her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“Think about it, there’s no other option!” she leaned forward, intent on getting the answer. “Rantaro killed Tsumugi and yet the killing game didn’t end! And all the clues point to you!”
Right again. “But! I can’t hurt human beings!” he sputtered, trying to think of a reason. “It’s not in my original programming-”
Shuichi pounced on that slip like lightning. “‘Original programming?’” the detective saw how he froze. “Does that mean...something was changed?”
Kiibo keeps his face still, not even looking at the detective. Yes. Please don’t push. Please don’t realize it doesn’t make sense for him to be changed if Tsumugi is dead and the human race is gone. Just let the lie stay.
Shuichi continued his questioning in spite of the stillness. “Were you infected by a virus?” If only. “Was your AI overwritten with something?”
He wasn’t going to be able to deny this. The voices were getting noisy again with the ‘twist’ that they had been watching from the Mastermind’s eyes the whole time.
“The show has to go on.” his tone was flat, trying to ignore their reactions. “That’s what my inner voice...no. That’s what the voices told me…” It wouldn’t make this better, but he felt the need to explain.
Was it pity mixing with the disgust on their faces?
He clenched a fist. “...but you can’t have a killing game without despair.” The voices of the audience were silenced as he dropped his disguise as a student and tried to meet the four’s eyes as the mastermind. “The moment Tsumugi Shirogane drew her last breath I was no longer the ‘Ultimate Hope’”
They were avoiding the gaze of his red eye, but he kept firm. They wanted a mastermind, to know the whole truth. So he would deliver. “Your deductions are correct. I’m the backup mastermind of this killing game.”
“Why? How could you-” Himiko still couldn’t look at him head on, but her voice was strong enough.
He laughed, needing to grip the podium to keep stable. “Why? I said why!” It was almost funny how no one listened, even when he admitted to being a complete monster. “Ask Kaede, or your detective! You know, don’t you?”
“You said this was a show.” Shuichi was hesitating, hands reaching for a hat that was no longer there. “So that means-”
“Every flashback light was fake.” Maki finished, regaining her composure faster than the others. She had managed to turn that confusion into proper hatred now. “Made up for someone else’s amusement.”
“Correct. You’re all as fake as I am.” his shrug was dismissive. It would be easier if they simply hated him and moved on with their lives after this, but the world wouldn’t accept an ending where they didn’t overcome despair. “There is no Gopher Project, there is no Ultimate Hunt and all your memories are fabrications. I set you all up. You died as entertainment,” he kept the red eye turned towards Maki as he tried goading her “Kaito really should have been more careful about what he ate.”
The absolute fury in her clenched teeth and stiff posture said more than any words. Yet Kaede stepped in, trying to get the assassins attention. “Revenge isn’t what Kaito wanted, Maki. Just hold on.”
“So these voices are-”
“The audience. The real world. My creator, and yours.” The robot snapped his fingers, letting the comments of those watching fill the screens that surrounded the courtroom. “The world might as well be over for all of you. You don’t belong there. Nothing you recall, no one you know exists. There are only these people. Who see you as entertaining toys.”
“No one else here is a robot! No one made us!” Himikio’s denial was honestly surprising.
“I suppose you can think that, if it makes you happy. The fact hundreds of thousands of people watched me have you slaughter one another and did not lift a finger to help you remains the truth,” he glanced at the screens. They liked watching his ‘friends’ be crushed. “I just gave them what they wanted. What they demanded.” The humans kept silent for a time, discomfort clear as they watched the casual words drift by. Realizing you were just a prop was likely harder for those of flesh and blood, judging by how they paled.
“So you’re a coward.”
He tilted his head at Maki’s spat words “More of an idiot than a coward. But yes.”
“You could have stopped all of this, but you didn’t.”
“Do you honestly think I wanted this?” Anger slipped into his voice as his shoulders hunched. “How did you put it, Himiko? A robot is useful by blowing itself up, I think? If that’s what you do with a useful one, what will a human do to a useless one?”
She shied back from his question, prior bravery apparently gone. That, or she knew the answer perfectly well. They would do whatever they wanted, a robot was just a tool.
“Then you should have died!”
“You’d still be here, having this conversation!” he glared at Maki, frustrated that she didn’t notice the obvious problem. “It would just be a slightly different version of me. One that never gave a single care for any of you. They talk in my head, you can’t honestly think they can’t just control me!”
“You never had a choice.” Kaede’s words cut deeper than any of Maki’s, even without the accusatory tone. She pitied him. After all of this, she still felt bad for some machine. “Did you stay to protect us?”
Why did she care? He’d failed! He didn’t even manage to let their game end without exposing all the mysteries they tried to solve were pointless window dressing for them to play with as they got on with killing each other. “No. I just wanted to live, as Maki said. We are not friends.” Friends did not kill friends. Friends did not notice a murder plan and just watch it happen. He didn’t deserve to feel anything about them.
“So why did you mention your ‘old’ title?” Shuichi prompted, looking distracted.
“I’m not very good at dramatics, but hope being twisted into despair is rather impactful.” At least, he thought it might have been. “We’re getting off topic. I have told you the reality that awaits you,” he paused to gesture as the scrolling comments, the constant refrains of loving to see them in pain clear as day. “That world that has used you is all that awaits you. You can choose to leave, to insist you can face it and deal with the consequences. Being closer to them will not make them see you as people with thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams. After all, they had a first person view all this time, and still they say these things,” his disgust was genuine. He probably should have covered it better with disinterest.
“A first person view?” Himiko was shaking a little, keeping her hat tipped down to avoid reading anymore.
“They could see through my eyes when I was fooling you. That was my original purpose...Rantaro just made the need for a backup plan rather urgent,” his shrug was stiff, unable to act completely at ease. “This is how they act towards people like you. They were your friend, and could tell me how to act before this. This is how they treat people they like. Do you really want to go out there?”
The magician seemed to crumble in on herself, completely silent in the face of that reality. So she was not his replacement. Maki was too angry...would it be Kaede or Shuichi that led the rest to the end despite it all?
Or perhaps he would be the one to ‘win’.
It was likely only his original programming speaking, but he still didn’t really want despair to win.
“Or you simply choose to stay here. It may be a killing game, but you know who’s behind it now, and have no reason to want to escape. It would be relatively peaceful, with no one watching. You could pretend everything was normal.” He offered the second option as the silence stretched on, watching for reactions. “Hope and leave. Despair and stay. That’s all there is to it.”
Nothing. Tsumugi likely would have been gloating at this point, or at least trying to goad for a reaction. Though it wasn’t as if Team DanganRonpa could complain, he wasn’t made for this, in the most literal sense.
"Does it really matter what the people watching think of us? The world is a big place," her voice strengthened as she went on, trying to catch her friend's eyes. "We're still real, no matter what they did to us. We all know that!"
Shuichi leaned over, whispering something to Kaede. What reason would there be to whisper now? Whatever he said had cheered her up somewhat, straightening while nodding at the detective.
“You said the voices could tell you how to act Kiibo. Does that mean right now, they can't?”
Shuichi’s question threw him. “The audience cannot speak to me while I’m like this. It would have exposed who the mastermind was if they could.” He covered the eye with his palm, ignoring the discomfort warning him from touching the lens with metal. “The ones in charge still can.”
“Don’t they just want an ending? Who says it needs to be their choices?” Kaede added, somehow still managing to smile.
“...That is how this works. The mastermind acts for despair, and the rest of you attempt to overcome that for hope. You pick one or the other and it ends. There are not any other choices to make.” he looked down at his hand, puzzlement prompting him to try and focus. Had he missed something? "That is why we were made, to act out their story."
“...bet there’s some dumb catch for the good side though to make the bad end look good.” Himiko mumbled, roused somewhat by the confidence the detective and pianist were showing.
“Hope does ask for two sacrifices, but you all seemed so put out it didn’t seem worth mentioning.”
“Well you keep mentioning ‘hope’. You already said the mastermind is the despair option, but who is standing in for the hope one?” Shuichi pressed again after sharing a glance with the others in the room.
“Whomever of you manages to get your friends out of the negative perceptions the mastermind is creating. So honestly, I don’t know.” Kiibo crossed his arms, uncertain on where they were going with this. It seemed like it might be Kaede, based on how she was the one trying to get them all to ignore the fact they were all pointless fakes.
“Well if the ultimate hope and the mastermind were the same person, we wouldn’t be able to pick, right?” She made it sound so simple.
...Would that work? No. He lost any right to that title. “They can't be the same person.”
“Weren’t you saying they built you for that first one?” Maki asked, though her dislike was still evident.
“Well assuming they can be the same person, couldn’t they just end this? The mastermind is in charge, and if we simply can’t vote because there isn’t more than one option…” Shuichi’s attempt to make it sound like a hypothetical wasn’t fooling anyone, but it did seem reasonable.
It was tempting. It wouldn’t make up for anything, but if all four could leave it was better than nothing?
When was the last time he had made a choice?
"You think our lives matter, don't you?" she spoke softly, as if lying to lure a kitten out from under a bed. "Even if our pasts are fake?"
Maki didn't seem all the convinced. "Or maybe you enjoyed it and Kaede is just being Kaito right now. An idiot."
"Almost fooled me when Miu died..." Himiko's reminder only twisted the knife.
Of course they mattered. Yet he hesitated. Wouldn't admitting this just make it harder? "You mean as much as I do. Nothing."
"I say our lives matter." She shoved away his insistence easily, as if they were simply talking out at the courtyard. "So if we're all the same, you matter too."
"So, can you end it? The mastermind might keep the game running, but they end it too." He was leaning forward, not letting the robot look away from him. "We don't need to care what the outside world thinks, or what they want anymore."
Defiance had never seemed possible. Yet if he was acting for the others, it wasn't really disobedience. He was just following their hope. That was his purpose too, wasn't it?
Well, there was an easy way to check. He pulled up the mask from his collar and attempted to call on the upgrades he had installed on the chance more violence was needed. The fact his arm responded and changed to the cannon was almost a surprise.
Miu would have gotten a kick out of that. Kokichi too, really. Too dead to care now.
“Is that a yes?” Kaede had no fear of the cannon, not even considering that he could simply turn it on all four of them. It was almost Kaito levels of belief. Foolish. He was their enemy...but maybe she did truly trust he never had the desire to do this.
“You all choose to have me end this, then? To have no say?” They had no fear. There was no real happiness there, stiff upper lips and raised chins at best, but they certainly were not in some state of despair either. “Is that really what you want?”
The nods were short, no hesitation. “We do. I trust you, I trust all of our lives matter. No matter what the outside world thinks!”
He stared at the pianist for a long moment, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t.” His chiding was somewhat muffled between the mask and the high pitched whine the jets made as they fired up. “Someone smarter than me will take advantage of that.”
If she responded, he didn’t hear it. He didn’t want the four’s plan to fail if those in charge suddenly objected to this course of action. A few test shots that did nothing to the dome enclosing the school meant they had prepared for that possibility. The fact the part of the school he shot at to make sure he had the power level at max exploded rather spectacularly made it clear only one weapon was going to do anything. It could still fail...but he wouldn’t be around to be disappointed.
The timing was good, he knew he felt his shoulder start to clip the dome as the self destruct timer hit zero. Whatever happened next would be up to those four. He could hope whatever it was would be better than here, at least. They’d suffered enough.