Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The girl took a hoarse, staggered breath, coughed again, and crashed against the wall to her left. Her shoulder, already weak, felt like it would break from the force. One of her knees was weaker than the other, and she slid down the wall and collapsed into a pile a moment later. The floor tiles were cold as ice against her naked skin, and their black-and-white colors were slowly stained pink by the blood trickling from her thighs and her waist.

A familiar feeling welled up in her throat; she knew another fit of coughing was coming. With great effort, she brought a bandaged hand up to her lips. Her body shook as she hacked up more blood and spit, but she could barely hear a sound.

Anything beyond the reach of her hands was a haze. She was definitely in a building, but it was so dark. Whether that was because the lights were dim or because her vision was weak, she couldn’t say. There might have been another wall across from her, but it was too hard to make it out.

Her breasts and hips were covered in bandages, as were various parts of her hands and arms, but the rest of her body was naked. She could tell that they were once white, but had mostly turned either pink or gray with blood or grime. They could have been days old. Between the bandages were countless lumps and bruises; entire portions of her body were just masses of red bumps. All of them hurt, but some were much worse than others. From the skin between the bruises, she guessed she must be very pale.

Her mouth filled with either blood or saliva, or a combination of both, and she managed to swallow. The liquidy mass went down painfully. She rolled her eyes and saw, for the first time, the tresses of unwashed black hair around her shoulders. Her head throbbed, as if some object were being swung inside of it. She groaned, though barely, and tried to concentrate.

Where am I…? she wondered.

She looked around, forcing her eyes to focus. Yes, she decided, it wasn’t just her: the lights here were very dim.

She was in a hallway, a very large one. Dozens of people could have comfortably passed each other here, though no one else was around right now. There were no windows, but there were two thick wooden doors across from her. Next to each was a plaque: 1-A and 1-B.

To her right, the hallway met a metal gate. To her left, it extended past a corner she couldn’t see around. She grunted weakly, then looked back to the gate. It was closed and locked… and yet, it felt to her as if she’d come from that direction. Hadn’t she?

She frowned, massaging one especially painful bruise on her shin. Her thoughts were jumbled, and when she concentrated, all that came to her was a sallow, useless blur.

Her heart leapt out of her chest. She was still shaking, but now it was from fear. With a start, she realized:

I remember nothing.

She could not recall a second of her life before leaning against this wall. She could not remember what this place was. She couldn’t even think of her own name or her face. She reached up and pressed her fingers around her nose, searching for some distinguishing characteristic that would remind me of who she was, or at least what she looked like. But there was nothing.

She turned suddenly to her left. Barely, she’d heard a sound. She closed her eyes. Her ears weren’t as injured as the rest of her body, and it might be possible to hear more.

“… unacceptable!” It was a boy. He was screaming, but he didn’t seem scared. This was more like anger or indignation. “Surely you were aware…”

The girl coughed again, and lost trace of the boy’s voice. But she knew he wasn’t far. She bit the inside of her cheek, and gingerly forced herself to her feet. Without shoes, the floor was cold and harsh. Her ankles almost gave out under her own weight, but she somehow kept upright. She steadied herself against the white wall, coating it in a thin streak of pink, and then lurched forward.

 She still couldn’t stand up straight, and when she moved forward, it felt as if she was really just falling horizontally. Now that she was wobbling forward, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself without completely slumping to the ground again. If she fell, she wouldn’t be able to get back up.

“… unspeakable! I must report you!” cried the boy.

“Everyone just calm down!” This voice was a girl’s. She was trying to sound diplomatic. “Listen, why don’t we all go around and introduce ourselves?”

There were more voices, eleven or twelve of them, and then a heated argument. The girl lost track of what they were saying.

She stumbled to the other side of the hallway, and then rounded the corner. She could see an enormous door of red velvet. She would have paused to examine it more, even aching as she was, but her legs kept moving on their own. All she could tell of it at a glance was that it looked nothing like the rest of the architecture here.

The girl pressed forward. To her left was another door, this one made of yellow metal. Next to it was a plaque that read A/V Room.

Sweat dribbled across her eyebrows, then off the tip of her nose. She needed to rest. She needed to sit down somewhere. Could she yell out and get the others’ attention? But she knew she couldn’t. Her throat was much too sore.

The hallway opened up into a square chamber. A pillar in the center was surrounded by benches. To her right, a door with a plaque that read School Store. Forward, the hallway continued to parts unknown. To her left…

A large pair of double doors. One was slightly ajar. Through it, she could see shadows moving. What sounded like five different conversations were all going on at the same time.

“Where are we?”

“My name’s Asahina!”

“This is all some kind of weird orientation thing.”

The girl collided hard with the wall next to the doors, but the din of the people inside kept them from noticing. To her surprise, she actually kept her footing by leaning against the wall.

She breathed hard for a bit, listening to the others in the next room.

“You think maybe someone grabbed us and hauled us off and we’re not actually at school?” asked an unfamiliar boy.

“I’m sure that’s it!” said another boy. This one sounded older, though.

The girl inched forward. Carefully, she snuck a peek through the open door. From this vantage, she could see only an unfriendly, cruel-looking girl in a dark school uniform. Hair the same color as the uniform fell in two long braids past her shoulders, and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses covered almost half of her face. This girl hunched slightly, as if uncomfortable in the presence of so many others, and looked back and forth between them while biting on the back of her thumb.

“Ah!” she cried. She looked to the doors suddenly, jumped back, and pointed. “O—over there! There’s someone there!”

The conversations died instantly. The girl in the hallway tried to move back, but she wasn’t fast enough. There was a flurry of steps, and then the door she’d been peeking into flew open. A bright light exploded out of the classroom, and framed a monstrous silhouette: a man with muscles the size of a normal person’s entire body, and long, white hair past his waist.

His body twisted into a fighter’s stance, and his thick arms pulled up to his chin and chest. He could probably have killed the girl with one punch.

The girl gasped and stumbled backwards, losing her balance. A moment later, she was on her back.

“Oh!” The man lowered his arms. With a deep, rumbling voice, he started to speak. “I—”

The girl tried to scream, but she only fell into another fit of coughing. In-between the coughs, she scrambled backwards on the floor, scraping her elbows. Parts of the bandages started to come undone.

Another person exited the room, this one a boy in a white uniform. He wasn’t nearly as large, but his eyes were red and wild, and there was an aura to him that seemed to scream even when his mouth was shut.

“What is—” he started.

The girl twisted, still trying to get away. Another figure came out, and then another. All of them started talking over each other, then screaming.

“Woah!” cried a boy’s voice. “She’s scared!”

He moved out of the crowd, then put up a hand behind himself in a stopping motion. He didn’t approach the girl, though.

He was very short for a boy, shorter even than most of the girls. His hair was a mess of brown spikes, each of them catching the ceiling lights in a slightly different way, and he wore an ugly, too-big jacket of black, brown, and red. A hoodie the size of his entire chest fell behind his head. He was awkward for sure, and seemed almost comical, but there was something about him, about the way he stood or looked down on the girl, that made it impossible to doubt his sincerity.

He smiled nervously, then held out a hand to her. The girl’s heart was beating fast.

“Hello,” he said gently. “My name’s Makoto.”

The others in the room melted away. For a long while, nothing existed except that hand.

Sweat trickled down around the girl’s nose and eventually onto her tongue. She realized she was biting her lip. She’d stopped moving backward without meaning to. Slowly, she reached up and took Makoto’s hand.

“She’s so hurt!” cried a friendly-looking girl. She was tan, had big blue eyes, and wore a red tracksuit. She moved to help, but stopped at Makoto’s hand.

“She’s covered in bandages…” said a boy. He looked slightly older than the others, and his hair struck out as dreadlocks in long points.

“N—nice observation, idiot.” said the dour-looking girl from before. Her face was blue, and she turned away when her eyes passed near the trickles of blood; she was clearly trying not to look at them directly. “Next you’ll notice that she’s practically naked.”

With Makoto’s help, the bandaged girl reached her feet. She was still unsteady, and part of her knee was still bleeding, so he lifted one of arms over his shoulder and helped her to the bench by the pillar.

She looked to the others crowded around her. No longer cowering in fear, she could see that the man from before was actually another teenage girl, although an enormous one. She was even wearing a skirt as a school uniform. She was obviously aware of how badly she’d intimidated the girl, and so she hung in the back, arms crossed.

The tallest of the boys, a blond in a black uniform that almost looked like a business suit, also crossed his arms. He cocked his head as he looked her over.

“That makes fifteen of us.” he stated, somewhat disinterestedly.

“You sound so cold!” said the tan girl. She kneeled down by the bench and took the girl’s hand. Some of the bandages were fraying off. “Are you okay? My name’s Aoi Asahina, but you can call me Hina.”

The girl nodded. She looked back to Makoto. She opened her mouth, and mercifully, almost to her own surprise, she didn’t start coughing. When she spoke, her words came out in a gravelly, quiet tone.

“I’m okay.” she said. “I’m… hurt, though.”

Sakura, who seemed much less frightening now, examined her wounds from afar.

“You are hurt,” she agreed. “I’ve seen many wounds like these, though never so many at once. I think… I think none of them are lethal, though.”

“How’s that?” Yasuhiro laughed. “Makoto, looks like you aren’t the only lucky student here, eh?”

“Oh, shut up!” Hina snapped at him. She looked up, eyes overflowing with warmth. “Are you alright?”

“… No.” the girl squeaked out, still looking up at Makoto. She wondered if she was blushing. She wondered if the blush would show underneath the bruises. “I don’t know where I am.”

The boy with the dreadlocks laughed. “Then welcome to the club! None of us know what the hell’s going on, either!”

One by one, everyone else announced his or her name: Chihiro, Toko, Hifumi, Celestia, Taka, Leon, Sakura, Mondo, Sayaka, Yasuhiro, and Byakuya. The last to speak was the pale, lavender-haired girl in the back. She said two words, “Kyoko Kirigiri,” and then fell silent again. If she had any sympathy for the girl, she didn’t show it. Instead, she propped her chin on a gloved hand and studied the bandages and bruises on the girl.

“What’s your name?” Makoto asked.

The girl scowled. She looked down at her lap, then shook her head.

“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “I can’t remember anything, except wandering through the halls.”

She looked up to the others. Most looked alarmed, though the girl with lavender hair seemed even more interested than before.

“Memory loss…” she repeated. Her eyes were ablaze, though it was hard to tell with what.

“Everyone’s… a student?” asked the girl.

“Yeah,” said Sayaka. “This is Hope’s Peak Academy!”

“At least we think it is,” Leon muttered.

“This is the school for Ultimates!” announced Taka. “I am the Ultimate Moral Compass, and for that reason, I must apologize for scaring you earlier!”

For some reason, he screamed both sentences. It was easy to see that this boy had no concept of an indoor voice.

Again, almost everyone told her their Ultimate Talent: baseball player, idol, martial artist, and so on. Byakuya said nothing, but Makoto explained that he was the Ultimate Affluent Progeny. Only the quiet girl with the gloves said nothing.

“She’s the same age as the rest of us,” Hifumi said. “She must be a student, too!” He leered in closer, studying her. For some reason, it was much more uncomfortable when he did it. “A cute, freckled girl wandering the halls, naked and covered in bandages? This is more the realm of 2D than 3D!”

“Gross!” screamed Hina, and she pushed his face back. She looked at her hand, grimaced, and rubbed what might have been drool onto the bench.

I have freckles? The girl automatically touched her face.

“I don’t suppose you remember your talent?” Makoto asked, smiling.

“I don’t know… I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be here.” she said.

“Very toned…” Sakura mumbled. “Good musculature. Probably an athlete.”

The girl looked down. For the first time, she realized that she actually was very athletic. Her chest was obviously toned even underneath her bruises, and the parts of her arms that weren’t covered in red welts looked as strong as Hina’s, the Ultimate Swimmer’s. With a surprising amount of pride, she realized that a weaker girl could not have made it to these doors with all of these wounds.

“M—maybe…” Toko said. “She’s still weird, though.”

Toko wore a long skirt down to her ankles. As she said this, she started scratching absently at her right thigh.

“So, she probably doesn’t know why we’re trapped.” Chihiro said, clearly disheartened.

“We’re not trapped!” exclaimed the carefree Yasuhiro. “It’s just some weird orientation.”

The bandaged girl frowned, but said nothing.

“Let me explain!” Hina smiled. She stood up suddenly, then grabbed the girl’s hand. “You’re all bloody right now. There’s a nurse’s office right over there; I passed it when I woke up. I’ll help you get cleaned up, and I’ll explain everything along the way.”

The girl looked back at the others. Byakuya, Kyoko, and Celestia regarded her coolly, and Yasuhiro seemed not to realize… well, anything, but the others all looked concerned for her. There was no way to refuse Hina’s offer, and no reason to do so.

“O—okay.” she said.

DING DONG BING BONG

Everyone jumped up as the bell chimed through the halls, except Kyoko and Byakuya. Suddenly, the girl saw that there was a large, conspicuous television bolted to the ceiling, as well as an equally obtrusive camera. Its screen flashed to life, and a strange, black silhouette appeared over static.

“Ahem, ahem! Testing, test!” said a playful, high-pitched voice. The girl shuddered, though she wasn’t sure why. Something about the voice just filled her with dread. “Mike check, one two! This is a test of the school broadcast system! Am I on? Can everyone hear me? Okay, well then! To all incoming students: I would like to begin the entrance ceremony at… right now! Please make your way to the gymnasium at your earliest convenience! That’s all! I’ll be waiting.”

“Well then,” said Byakuya. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He was gone before the television even switched off.

The strangeness of the announcement and the gross mischief of the voice left almost everyone else with an obvious sense of unease. The only one who still looked comfortable was Yasuhiro.

“I’ll go ahead, too,” he said, totally unconcerned. “I’ll find the teacher or whatever and tell ‘em you and Hina are in the nurse’s office, don’t worry.”

He ran off a moment later.

“What a fool,” breathed Celestia. “A naked, half-dead girl wanders the halls alone, yet he thinks nothing is odd?”

Makoto grinned nervously and rubbed the back of his head. Rather than responding to them, he looked to the girls on the bench.

“Do you need any extra help?” he offered. “I don’t mind waiting.”

The girl looked up to Hina, then back to Makoto.

Suddenly, she felt acutely aware of her own weakness, of how small she felt and must seem to the others around her. She bit her lip.

“Makoto!” Hina frowned. “She needs to change these bandages, and you’re a boy.”

“Oh!” He scratched the back of his head, then nodded. “I guess that’s true. Alright, we’ll wait for you guys in the gym.”

Hina nodded, smiling. She placed an arm underneath the girl’s shoulder, then hefted her to her feet. Hina was doing more than half of the work to keep her on her feet.

Most of the students went off to the gym with a quick “goodbye” or “see you later.” Sakura in particular seemed to want to help, but she was still indecisive after the earlier scare. After a moment, she turned and left. Last of all was Kyoko, who hesitated for some time. She looked to the group, and then back to Hina and the girl. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes lingered on the bandages.

Without a word, she placed another arm underneath the girl’s other shoulder.

The nurse’s office was only a very short distance away; they were there in less than thirty seconds. Hina pushed open the doors with her foot, but Kyoko frowned again and paused. Silently, she examined the frame around the doors.

The girl followed her eyes until she found what was so interesting: there was something all around the doorframe. It was a transparent, slightly shiny substance, almost too faint to notice. There were five or six lines of it across the edges of the frame.

Kyoko pulled a hand away and touched it. A tiny bit of the substance came off, sticking to her glove.

“What is it?” the girl asked.

“Glue.” Kyoko answered. “Like… something was taped here not too long ago.”

Kyoko stayed behind to examine the door as Hina and the girl entered.

“Woah!”

It was like no other nurse’s office she had ever seen… Not that she could recall ever seeing one before. X-rays hung on the wall, advanced machines were everywhere, and another of those obvious, ugly security cameras was bolted onto the ceiling. The floor sparkled and shone, as if this was the first time anyone had ever set foot in the room.

“C’mon,” Hina said, and she set the girl on a bed – they were all equally clean.

-----

A few minutes passed. Hina pulled off the old bandages, cooed and tsked as she found more bruises underneath, and assured the girl that all of this would heal after a few days. As she applied new bandages, she chatted away, explaining that this was the first day of school, that everyone had passed out when they arrived, that the entrance hall was blocked by a giant metal vault, and that huge guns, which were probably fakes, hung from the ceiling.

When she pulled off the bandages on the girl’s right hand, she gasped.

“Oh my god!” she squealed. “What a cute dog!”

The girl looked down, startled. On her hand was a black-and-white tattoo of an eight-sided star. In its center was the head of a wolf baring its fangs. Underneath the wolf was a word: FENRIR.

She frowned, trying to conjure up some kind of memory… but nothing came.

“Is this your dog?” Hina asked pleasantly. “Oh! Wait, the memory thing. I’m sorry.”

My dog? The girl repeated the words in her mind. She rubbed a thumb against the tattoo, wondering if she had indeed had a wolf. If this was a school for Ultimates, could she be some kind of animal handler? She hoped not. Nothing about animals seemed very interesting to her.

Unlike the rest of her body covered by bandages, the hand seemed mostly fine. Hina didn’t bother covering it again. Instead, she rummaged through a medicine cabinet for a few seconds, then brought back a bottle of pills.

“Here!” she said cheerfully, and handed out three pills without reading the label. “These should dull any pain.” Kyoko reentered, but Hina continued on. “You stay here, and we’ll go to the gym and get a teacher.”

“She should come with us,” Kyoko said blankly. She kneeled and started examining the floor. If she found something interesting, no one else could see it. “I doubt there will be anyone who can help her there.”

“I agree that it’s all scary,” Hina said. “But that doesn’t mean there’s anything, I don’t know, sinister happening here!”

The girl ate the pills. Instantly, most of the pain subsided. She nodded.

“I’ll go.”

Hina frowned, but didn’t fight her. Instead, she pulled off her red track jacket and placed it around the girl’s shoulders. It actually did offer some modesty.

“Thanks,” the girl said.

Kyoko stood and checked the girl for a moment. Her eyes darted to the tattoo, and the girl could see her asking questions about it within her own mind. Without another word, she left.

“Hmph!” Hina pursed her lips. “Jerk.”

Parts of her body were still in pain, but the girl felt much better now. She could walk without too much effort, though she was still covered in sweat, and any blood was either wiped away or covered by bandages. She didn’t even need to steady herself against the walls as she walked to the gym. Hina hovered beside her; her arms hung at her own sides, but she was clearly waiting to catch the girl if she stumbled.

To their mutual surprise, that didn’t happen. The hallway fed into the gym, and they found Kyoko there, just opening the door. Through it, they could see—

BOOM

The walls shook. Bits of plaster fell from the ceiling, breaking apart wherever they struck skin.

“Wh—”

The explosion came from the gym. Without a moment’s hesitation, Kyoko rushed inside. Hina paused, torn between seeing what was happening and attending to her friend, but eventually chose the latter.

“Come on!” she cried.

They rushed to the double doors to the gym and looked inside. The choking smell of gunpowder washed over them. The girl gasped slightly; this smell felt more familiar than the idea of dogs. It swept into her nose and her mouth, stinging her nostrils and sinking into her tongue.

I know this smell, this taste.

Several people were screaming or running inside of the gym, too many to count, but the scene inside was clear: a large stage in the back was partly exploded. Bloody, gory chunks of a human body were smeared across the otherwise immaculate wooden floor. Tatters of clothing were scattered everywhere, half on fire and the rest charred to black. It was impossible to guess who this had once been.

Yasuhiro screamed the loudest. Throwing up his arms, he fell backward, covered his eyes, and curled up into a ball. Toko was completely unconscious. Chihiro was silent, but obviously in shock. She simply stood in awe of what had momentarily before been her friend, mouth agape. Almost everyone else was the same, save Byakuya and Kyoko.

Hina’s throat welled up. She seemed ready to barf.

Nearest to the stage was Makoto. It was hard to guess if he’d been knocked back by the explosion or if he’d lost his footing from the shock, but either way, he was on his back, shaking and sputtering. His face was covered in soot and blood.

God… thought the girl.

Her heart was racing. Minutes before, Makoto had come to her aid and offered a hand… yet she could only shy back behind the door to the gym, barely poking her head to see inside. She wanted to help someone, or at least Makoto, but she just couldn’t.

She hated herself.

While everyone rolled or covered their faces or cried, the girl counted through everyone she could see.

Byakuya… Taka… Sakura…

The only student she couldn’t find was Mondo. She swallowed hard. Then the streaks of blood and gore…

But how did he explode? she wondered.

“‘But how did he explode?!’” cried a familiar playful voice. “I bet that’s what three of you are wondering right now!”

The students’ screams died out instantly, but the air was just as panicked. A strange black-and-white creature dropped from the ceiling and landed without a sound in the center of what had once been the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. It was a plush teddy bear with an elongated red left eye. It was obviously a robot, but everything about its design was just a little wrong somehow. Just looking at made her stomach turn. Instinctively, her lips pulled back just at the sight of it.

“Heehee!” It rubbed its stomach. It seemed about to say something, then cocked its head. “We have three tardy students! Well, I’ll let it go with a warning just this once. Your classmates can fill you in on what you missed later.”

“You just killed Mondo!” Makoto screamed. “Why?!”

The bear let loose another high-pitched laugh. Then it flipped backward into the air and landed deftly on the stage.

“I guess that does technically count as ‘later,’ but I meant… Well, whatever. There’s a punishment for breaking school regulations, and your dear stupid, stupid friend laid hands on the headmaster. Tsk-tsk!”

The bear rubbed it stomach again and laughed hysterically, as if this was the funniest thing in the world. Then it stopped without warning. It wasn’t facing anyone in particular, but its red eye trained in the center between the three new arrivals in the back.

“If only someone had been here to warn poor Mondo to throw that other copy of me. It could have saved his life! In fact, I know it would have.”

Me…?

She bit her lip and looked to Hina, who was horrified, and Kyoko, who’d stopped halfway through the gymnasium. She knew instantly that that comment had been a taunt against Kyoko. In the corner of her eye, she could see Byakuya making the same deduction.

“Now then!” cried the bear. “To commemorate your entry into our school, I have a little present for all of you!”

Its hands disappeared behind its back, then, as if by magic, reappeared holding fourteen electronic pads in a pile.

“This is our official student handbook! Pretty cool, huh? It’s fully digital, so naturally we call it… the e-Handbook! Each one is personalized, and it’ll display your name when you start it up. Its space-age design makes it unbreakable, waterproof, fireproof, and able to withstand an impact force of up to ten tons! Most important of all, it contains all of our school regulations, so make sure you review them very thoroughly! Unlike Mondo.”

It paused. Half of its face was always smiling, but it seemed as if it would have frowned if it could have.

“You’ll hear me say this a lot,” it said emotionlessly. “But any more violations of the school rules will not be tolerated.” Then it laughed uproariously again. “That concludes our entrance ceremony! Please enjoy your abundantly dreary school life!”

A second later, it disappeared, seemingly melting into the wall behind the stage. All that was left of it were the fifteen e-Handbooks scattered where it had stood a moment before.

A long time passed before anyone said another word. The nauseous scents of gunpowder and charred flesh filled the air until they became stale.

At last, Byakuya walked to the stage, taking a circuitous route to avoid the blood on the floor, and pulled out one of the e-Handbooks. He turned it on, tossed it back, and picked up a new one. He did this six more times before turning the handbook off and slipping it into his pocket.

“Is there anyone here who’s seriously considering all this?” he asked. His voice wasn’t quite emotionless, but neither was it scared. It sounded almost like… a challenge. No one answered.

Considering what? she thought. She turned to Hina, whose eyes said that she was thinking the same thing.

After a while, the others began stirring. Enough time had passed that the pills had really worked over her body, and the girl found she could walk almost without issue. She moved over to Makoto, who was still on his back, and kneeled beside him. The action hurt her knees, but she didn’t mind. She opened up her mouth to speak, but a moment later, the blue-haired girl, Sayaka, joined her.

“Makoto,” interrupted Sayaka. “Are you okay?”

She’d asked the question just before the bandaged girl could. Makoto turned away. Tears were in his eyes. He didn’t answer.

The bandaged girl bit her lip, then pulled away. She watched the scene unfold: one-by-one, most of the students found their handbooks. Sakura helped Toko to her feet, and the latter girl thanked her by pushing her away and retreating to a corner of the gym. At no point did Toko ever again look directly at the bloody mess that had been Mondo. As soon as she was alone, she went back to vigorously scratching at her leg, even after someone else delivered her e-Handbook to her. Makoto was one the last students to get up, and Sayaka was by his side the entire time, whispering to him about something unknown.

The bandaged girl looked back to what had been Mondo. She’d barely known him, and he’d never said anything to her except his name and title. She knew that she ought to feel sympathy for him anyway, that she ought to cry at his sudden, inglorious death the way Makoto had. She tried to force herself to feel those sensations, to rage at this evil action.

She did manage to summon an emotion, but it wasn’t the one she intended. Within herself, she could feel a spark, a modicum of pure despair.

Please, not me…

Kyoko knelt by the blast area, tracing a finger around the edges of the soot and blood. The girl watched her for a while, but then a finger softly poked the back of her shoulder.

“Hey,” Hina said, awkwardly. “Only one handbook is left, so… I guess it must be yours.”

She held it out gently in her right hand. The girl bit her lip. Trembling, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. For some reason, she had a terrible feeling of dread, as if pressing the button to turn it on would do more harm than good.

But that was silly. Everyone else had turned on theirs, and nothing had come from it. She steeled herself, swallowed hard, and watched its screen flicker to life:

MUKURO IKUSABA

FEMALE

Chapter Text

Ding dong

Mukuro awoke with a start. She turned onto her side, accidentally shifting her weight onto a wound on her arm.

“Ah!”

Her eyes shot wide open. She was in a strange, unknown room, on a bed she’d never seen before…

The disorientation passed. A moment later, she remembered Hina bringing her into the dorms to rest.

My room, she thought.

She was on a flat, pink bed just large enough for one person. The dorm room might have looked normal, if a little spartan, but for the ubiquitous hanging camera, bulky monitor, and steel window plates. The red track jacket Hina had loaned her was draped over a desk.

What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Unlike the classrooms, there was no clock here.

Ding dong

She eased herself to sit up as gently as she could. The effects of the drugs were wearing off, and moving caused her head to swim. She could still manage it, though, and slowly made her way to the door. She opened it and found Hina on the other side.

“Heya, Mukuro!” the other girl said, almost cheerily. “We’re all meeting in the cafeteria.”

“Oh… Wasn’t that supposed to be at seven?”

Hina smiled.

“It’s seven right now. You’re late.” Mukuro groaned and looked to the ceiling. She’d slept for over ten hours. “Although… you really can’t go dressed like that.”

Mukuro looked down and gasped. Her bandages had come so loose that they barely covered anything at all. Blushing, she turned to grab the jacket.

“It’s no problem,” Hina interrupted, and she entered the dorm. “Everyone’s closets have spares of their outfits.”

She led Mukuro to the closet door, and slid it open with a flourish.

“Ta-d—oh!”

Inside of the closet were ten plastic hangers. Each of them held exactly the same item: an unused roll of white bandages. On the floor of the closet were ten bottles of antiseptic. Even through the glass, the sterile, burning stench of the medicine stung Mukuro’s nostrils. Otherwise, the closet was completely empty.

This is supposed to make me feel embarrassed or something, she instantly knew. But…

It wasn’t exactly embarrassment she felt. It was closer to… resignation. If she’d thought about the closet for even a second before opening it, she would have expected to find something like this.

Mukuro sighed, took one of the rolls, and dutifully wound new sets of bandages around her body.

“I don’t understand,” Hina bit her lip. “Everyone else has normal clothes…”

“Maybe this is normal for me,” Mukuro offered without emotion. “Maybe I’m the Ultimate Patient.”

She finished with the bandages, slipped on Hina’s jacket again, and nodded. On the table, she found a key marked MUKURO IKUSABA, and slipped it into one of the jacket’s pockets.

They exited the dorm room and stepped onto the pure white tiles of the main hallway. Each dorm room had a plaque with a picture of its occupant on it; Mukuro’s showed her with half of her head bandaged up. The plaque’s version was actually more injured than the real person.

Hina noticed none of this, though, and led the way to the cafeteria. As they walked, she chattered excitedly.

“Did you remember anything else?” she asked.

Mukuro shook her head.

“To be honest, I’m still a bit uneasy around everyone.”

“That’ll change!” Hina said, pumping her fists. “Almost everyone is really nice, and I can tell Byakuya and Toko’ll come around eventually. Monokuma… that stuff he said about killing each other…” She sucked in her lips and looked away. “It’ll never happen.”

When they’d almost reached the cafeteria, Mukuro looked down a hallway to the left. A cast iron gate blocked the entrance to a stairway.

“Second floor of the dorms,” Hina said. “We can’t get past the gate, though.”

They entered the cafeteria.

“Mukuro Ikusaba!” boomed a deep voice. Mukuro’s eyes went wide, and she raised an arm reflexively. “You’re late! Completely inexcusable!”

Taka stood in the center of the cafeteria, pointing at her accusingly. Other students were sitting at tables or standing around. Some of their clothing had wrinkled over the day, but Taka’s white uniform was still pressed and flawless.

Hina looked furious.

“Taka!” she screamed back. “She was injured. You’re crazy!”

“And why haven’t you put on real clothing?” Taka asked, ignoring her.

“My closet…” Mukuro said, still half-stunned. “Just has more bandages…”

She heard a snicker to the side. Toko stood there, biting a finger.

“W—Walking around the school n—naked. Ultimate… Slut, aren’t you?”

The cruelty of the remark stung more than Mukuro would have expected. She frowned and checked her half-exposed hips, and then looked away from the creepy, disheveled girl without defending herself.

Taka eventually accepted the excuse, and he led both of them to sit at a large table in the center of the room. Mukuro’s stomach started rumbling, but someone had left a basket of fruit in the center of the table. She bit into an apple as she surveyed the scene.

Toko and Byakuya sat at a different table slightly to the side, apparently for no reason except to separate themselves. The only other students not at the main table were Yasuhiro, who stood by himself in the corner, hands over head, praying and mumbling while holding a string of beads, and Kyoko, who was absent entirely.

On the other side of the main table sat Makoto and Sayaka. They were smiling and whispering to each other. Sayaka in particular was in great spirits, giggling at whatever Makoto was saying. Mukuro tried to listen in, but the din of the other conversations drowned out most of it.

“… Like I said, I’m psychic!” Sayaka laughed. Then she said something about being the Ultimate Assistant.

A sudden pang of regret struck Mukuro. While the others had all spent time together and learned more about each other and the school, she’d spent the day asleep and completely alone. Not only had she accomplished nothing, she was actively worse than useless. She watched Makoto laugh and smile at some joke Sayaka made, and found herself feeling oddly jealous.

Someone waved a hand at her, and the conversations quieted. Mukuro looked and saw it was Leon.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Are we just going to ignore that her name is Corpse Warblade?”

“Leon!” Taka cried. “Insulting others’ names is not permissible!”

Toko laughed spitefully. She was still scratching at her leg.

“I a—agree with the b—baseball guy. Th—that’s something a fourteen-year-old would call himself online…”

Mukuro bit her lip.

I think it’s kinda cool…

“Completely disagreed!” Hifumi slammed his fists onto the table. “That name is amazing!”

Despite herself, Mukuro suddenly shifted opinions to side with Leon and Toko.

“She does look like a corpse.” Byakuya chided.

“Enough of this!” Taka thundered. “I wanted to wait for Kyoko, but we’ll get started without her. Everyone, report on what you discovered!”

Minutes passed. Each group described exploring some part of the school or trying to contact the outside world, pry off a steel plate from the windows, or break through a gate. In the latter cases, they always met with failure.

“Makoto and I looked through the cafeteria and kitchen together,” Sayaka chirped. “No secret doors or anything, but Monokuma showed up and said that the kitchen restocks every day, so we’ll never go hungry.”

“Mondo’s body is gone from the gym,” Celeste said evenly. “In fact, there’s no evidence of the explosion at all. The stage is completely repaired.”

Taka nodded as each person went through what he or she did with the day. Last of all was Yasuhiro, who finally joined them at the table.

“I spent the whole day trying to divine the future.”

Half of the students groaned or scoffed.

“What did you discover?” Taka asked, apparently serious.

“… Only one person here will actually murder anyone,” Yasuhiro said, clearly proud of himself. “And my predictions are right thirty percent of the time!”

“You idiot,” Byakuya snapped. “You’d better hope your nonsense is false, because if it’s not, that would just mean the first person to kill is going to get away with it.”

The blood drained out of Yasuhiro’s face. Hands shaking, he raised the beads above his head again and started whispering a cant to some god.

More time passed. A new rule was voted on that no one would leave their dorm after night. Despite everything, almost everyone appeared to be in decent enough spirits.

“Do we even know that this is really the school?” Chihiro asked.

“Yes.”

Everyone turned to the cafeteria entrance. Kyoko was there.

“Kyoko Kirigiri!” Taka cried. He started admonishing her like he’d done to Mukuro, but she ignored him completely. She dropped a piece of paper onto the table and pointed to it.

“I found this map of Hope’s Peak Academy’s first floor. I made sure the dimensions all match with the building we’re in. There have been a number of strange renovations made, but this is definitely Hope’s Peak.”

“Then… how did Monokuma, or whoever’s controlling him, take over the school?” Leon asked.

Kyoko shook her head, then took a seat.

“There’s not enough information to answer that yet.”

Mukuro found herself admiring Kyoko. The girl was so composed, so calm. Mukuro herself felt more like the hunched-over, fearful Toko in the corner. Even Byakuya still showed some emotion at being imprisoned in this game, but Kyoko was an immutable island in an ocean of chaos and distrust.

The others handled this revelation much worse. Toko grabbed her head and started groaning. Several people started arguing about the police. Only Byakuya smiled.

“Weren’t you listening to the bear?” he said. “If you want to leave, you just have to ki—”

“Don’t!” Hina demanded. To Mukuro’s surprise, that actually shut Byakuya up.

“Where are all of the other classes’ students?” Sakura asked. “If this is the school, there should be several classes.”

Makoto, who had been almost silent during the meeting, finally spoke up.

“Yeah, and not even all of us are here.”

Everyone grew quiet.

“What’s that mean?” Yasuhiro asked, setting down his prayer beads. “I think everyone’s here… Except Mondo, of course.”

“I mean Junko Enoshima.” Makoto said, scratching his cheek. “She’s part of our class.”

“How do you know that?” Kyoko said, suddenly very interested.

Fourteen pairs of eyes trained on Makoto. He shrank back, but managed to keep a smile.

“Last night, I went onto the internet and looked up my new class on a message board. People all over Japan talk about Hope’s Peak, and I was curious.” He shrugged. “Not everyone’s famous enough to talk about, but some of us are, like Leon, Mondo, and Junko. Am… Am I the only person who looked us up online first?”

Everyone started murmuring at once.

“Junko Enoshima,” Byakuya said sharply. “The model?”

“The Ultimate Fashionista,” Makoto confirmed. “Blonde, twin pigtails, blue eyes, beautiful. She’s supposed to be in the 78th class with us. I think she’s the most famous student in the entire school.”

Mukuro frowned. If Junko truly was so famous, it would be impossible not to know about her. That certainly seemed to be the case for everyone else, who all clearly recognized the name if nothing else, but no bells rung for her. She sighed.

I can’t have even this tiny connection to the others…

“It could be that she was fortunate enough to fall ill on the first day,” Sakura suggested. “If so, she may have avoided this entire scenario by luck.”

Yasuhiro started laughing.

“I thought that was supposed to be Makoto’s thing!”

There was more speculation, but nothing of real value. Mukuro listened without speaking.

“Are you okay?” Hina asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied, digging a bit of apple out from between her teeth with her tongue. “I just have nothing to contribute. I don’t know about this Junko at all.”

Hina smiled sympathetically, then rubbed her shoulder.

Celeste was also quiet during the conversation. Her e-Handbook was out, and she flipped through its pages with some interest.

“Excuse me,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been looking through the rules here, and something is quite odd.”

“Oh? Explain!” demanded Taka.

She turned her handbook so the rest of the table could see it, then flipped through each regulation one at a time.

Rule #1: Students may reside only within the school. Leaving campus is an unacceptable use of time.

Rule #2: “Nighttime” is from 10 pm to 7 am. Some areas are off-limits at night, so please exercise caution.

Rule #3: Sleeping anywhere other than the dormitory will be seen as sleeping in class and punished accordingly.

Rule #4: With minimal restrictions, you are free to explore Hope's Peak Academy at your discretion.

Rule #5: Violence against headmaster Monokuma is strictly prohibited, as is destruction of surveillance cameras.

Rule #6: Anyone who kills a fellow student and becomes “blackened” will graduate, unless they are discovered.

“This all just what the bear told us earlier,” Leon said. “What’s wrong with it?”

She ignored him completely, then flipped to the final page.

Rule #7: Betraying your sister is not allowed.

Everyone went quiet again.

“That rule is both much more specific and somehow vaguer than the others…” Kyoko muttered.

“Why only sisters?” Sakura asked. “Why not brothers as well? Or just word it as ‘siblings.’”

“Does it even matter if you don’t have a sister in Hope’s Peak? None of us are related to each other.” Chihiro squeaked out.

“Who here even has a sister at all?” Taka asked, rubbing his chin.

“M—me…” Toko offered, still scratching her leg. “Though, she’s only a h—half-sister…”

“I do as well!” Hifumi declared. “Her name is Fujiko, she’s older than me.”

Makoto raised his hand.

“Me too, though Komaru’s younger than me.”

“Is that it?”

No one else responded. Taka crossed his arms.

“Then only three of us must worry about this strange rule. Though I can’t see how it could even apply he—”

“Wait.” Byakuya said. “The girl with amnesia.”

Mukuro turned, suddenly alarmed.

“You could have a sister and not know it.” he said. His tone was almost accusatory.

Another thing I don’t know…

The thought of losing a sister struck Mukuro much harder than anything else she’d forgotten. She furrowed her brow, and another strange emotion burned inside her.

Despair…

She looked around. Everyone was in fine physical condition, and as far as she knew, everyone had their memories untouched. It was just her. What was a person except a body and memories? With Mukuro, the first was broken, and the second was torn away entirely. Although Byakuya had made cutting remarks before, this one hurt the most of all, particularly because of its semi-innocence. She looked away and found the camera mounted on the ceiling. It stared down at her without moving, and she wondered what else Monokuma had stolen from her…

Makoto sensed all of this somehow. He reached across the table, squeezed her hand, and smiled gently.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll get back your memories.”

Despite everything, Mukuro smiled back. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, but by the look on Sayaka’s face, she guessed she was.

“We’ll get you some new clothes, too.” Hina said. “For now, you can borrow mine.”

“Why?” Kyoko asked.

“Oh, you weren’t here. Everyone’s closets have spares of their outfits except for Mukuro’s. She just got more bandages.”

Kyoko frowned. Her eyes were on fire, but Mukuro couldn’t possibly guess what this information meant to her.

“I object to that.” Byakuya said. “We can’t have two people wearing the same clothing. It’ll make them look too similar at a distance. That would be… problematic in a game like this.”

“No one is going to kill each other!” Makoto said. His voice was harsher than Mukuro expected.

“I don’t want to be an issue.” Mukuro said. “Maybe I could find a towel, and—”

“You can borrow some of mine.” Kyoko said impassively. She wasn’t even looking at them as she spoke. “Combining two outfits will make you look different enough.”

“Good idea!” Taka said, pressing his hands against his hips. “Make sure to borrow a pair of Kyoko’s gloves! You can cover that criminal tattoo on your hand with them.”

“Tattoo?” Byakuya repeated.

He leaned over in his chair slightly to examine Mukuro’s hand. Mukuro, suddenly cognizant of the tattoo, almost wanted to cover it, but she knew that would just make everyone more curious.

Instead, she raised the hand so Byakuya could see it more easily. His eyes went wide as soon as he did, and he jumped back and out of his chair. He moved so suddenly that even his glasses slid down his nose and went crooked.

“That’s a Fenrir tattoo!”

He was uncharacteristically scared. No one else moved. A sea of confused looks greeted him.

“They’re a mercenary company,” he hissed. He was sweating. “Each member has a tattoo of that wolf. Their soldiers are the deadliest, most merciless people on the planet.”

Mukuro had been looking at Byakuya and Toko as he said all of that. When she turned back to the table, she found that almost everyone’s entire countenance had changed. Where there’d been pity before, there was now fear. Her eyes darted to each of her classmates, trying to see how they reacted to this news.

Yasuhiro and Sayaka’s faces were blue. Hifumi bit his hand, Chihiro covered her lips, and Leon pulled back slightly. Sakura uncrossed her arms and was staring at her with one eye closed, apparently measuring her threat. Celeste raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea. Taka was just completely flummoxed. Only Kyoko’s cold analysis, Hina’s warmth and energy, and Makoto’s unrelenting hope remained unchanged.

Mukuro looked back down to her tattoo and ran a finger across the wolf’s teeth.

This is what represents me?

She certainly didn’t feel like a predator.

“I have it!” Taka laughed, and he slammed a fist into his open palm. “This is a hoax! Mukuro is too young to get a tattoo, so she can’t have been in this Fenrir!”

No one responded to him, not even Mukuro. She rubbed the tattoo again.

“She’s clearly scared!” Hina cried. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

Scared? It was true, she was scared, and it showed on her face. Some of the students around her looked like they’d jump onto her and pin her to the ground, and most of the rest certainly wouldn’t argue against it. For all Byakuya said about her, Mukuro didn’t feel like someone powerful. And on a more existential level, if she was some kind of soldier, then someone else at Hope’s Peak was dangerous enough to have left her body battered and broken.

But the fear was mixed with something else: comfort. Her classmates weren’t the only ones who could see the tattoo in a different light.

Mukuro didn’t know what her Ultimate talent was, or if she had a sister, or anything else… but she did know that she had this tattoo. It was a link to her past, good or evil, benign or malicious, and there was solace to be found in the fact that she did come from somewhere, and had at some point believed in something enough to etch it into her body forever.

It was a strange thing to have fear and relief mix together. They should have been like oil and water, but after the initial shock, they were almost indistinguishable emotions to Mukuro.

Even my victories are tinged with despair…

“It is interesting,” Sakura allowed. “But Mukuro hasn’t acted against anyone, and I sense no hostile intent from her.”

“Yeah!” Makoto said. “There’s no fair reason to be scared of her, and she needs our help.”

Makoto’s kind words dissolved Mukuro’s negative emotions. She tucked her chin into her chest and smiled.

The other students mulled this over. Kyoko studied the tattoo intensely.

“A—are you insane?” Toko squeaked. She gripped her head in both hands and shook it from side to side. “I—it’s already bad enough to be trapped in a c—crazy killing game, but now one of the people in it is already a k—killer?!”

Byakuya seemed about to agree with her, but thought better of it. After a moment, he settled back into his chair. Mukuro couldn’t help but notice, however, that he’d maneuvered it to place the other table between himself and her.

Things settled down, but Mukuro could still see the distrust in almost everyone’s eyes.

“Heehee!”

The high-pitched voice took everyone off-guard. People looked to the ceiling and the floor to watch, but somehow Monokuma simply appeared standing at the head of the table. The bear only had one expression—smiling—but he still looked especially mischievous this time.

Mukuro had almost felt happy to learn that one tiny speck of her past… Looking at Monokuma now just twisted up her stomach.

“Why are you here?” Kyoko asked. She was the only person who could have said that without fear or hostility.

Monokuma grabbed his stomach and laughed.

“Why, to help you settle into your communal life here, of course!” He raised a hand and swept it across the table. By coincidence or design, it ended pointing at Mukuro. “Garbage is a fact of life, and when you find it, you have to throw it out!”

No one responded for a long while.

“What does that even mean?” Yasuhiro asked.

Monokuma dipped a hand behind his waist. Even though half of the table could see his back, he still produced a silver key without any obvious method of having hidden it. While everyone reeled over that, he raised the key into the air like a sword.

“We can’t just let the school fill up with junk! Someone’s got to dispose of it. In the dorms is a trash room with an incinerator. Every day, someone needs to gather up all of the trash from around the school and burn it. You can switch who’s on duty each week, but you’ll need this key to open the gate in the trash room.”

“Why?” Kyoko asked. “Why not just leave the gate open all the time and let everyone deal with their own trash?”

Monokuma cackled again.

“Isn’t it obvious? Because that would make disposing of evidence too easy! Now, who wants the first week?”

No one quite jumped at the opportunity. Finally, Hifumi stood up and adjusted his glasses.

“I suppose I can offer my services as—”

“No!” said most of the girls at once, save Kyoko. Hifumi shrank back into his chair.

“I’ll do it.” Chihiro said, unfolding her hands from her lap. “I can’t help open the windows or the doors, and I’m useless without a computer, but I can at least handle this.”

Trembling, she reached over to Monokuma’s hand. Sweat beat down her face, and she expected at any moment for the smiling bear to snap up and attack her.

But Monokuma simply let her take the key. His hand fell down to his side. He seemed about to bounce away when Kyoko stepped in front of him. Her eyes met his.

“What do you want?” she asked simply.

For a lengthy, tense moment, Monokuma stood motionless. Just when Mukuro was certain he wouldn’t respond, a single shrill whisper coiled out of his lips.

“Despair.”

Chapter Text

“Will this do?”

Kyoko stood in her dorm’s doorway. In her arms were three pleated skirts, white blouses, black underwear, and a pair of black gloves. She was perfectly kind and reasonable, but Mukuro definitely noticed how she hadn’t been invited into the room.

She smiled back at Kyoko, weakly.

“This is perfect, thank you. I’m… sorry to impose.”

Kyoko deposited the clothes into Hina’s arms, which were already overflowing with the several full sets of clothing that she’d selected to give away.

“Don’t worry about it.” Kyoko said flatly.

She turned away, and her lavender hair went flowing back over her shoulder. It lent her a further air of unapproachable mystery. Even the simple act of closing her door felt like some grand message was concealed underneath the surface, one that no ordinary mind could comprehend.

The door slammed shut.

“Didn’t even say goodbye.” Hina pursed her lips. “Though she was the only other person who let you borrow some clothes! I can’t believe none of the other girls offered.”

Mukuro chose not to tell Hina that Toko disliked her, Chihiro was too tiny, Sakura’s clothes were so large that two people could fit into them, and Celeste…

Mukuro didn’t need her memories to know that she’d never touched one of those monstrous lacey dresses in her life, and she didn’t need Hiro’s crystal ball to know that she never would.

They entered her own room, and Hina laid out all of the clothes on the bed.

“Hina…” Mukuro said, a little softly. “Why don’t you go back to talk to Sakura in the cafeteria? I’ll… decide how I want to wear these on my own and meet you later.”

Hina bit her lip and looked over Mukuro’s still-very-bruised body.

“You… sure?”

“Yeah. I’m feeling a lot better now.”

Hina pumped her fists and nodded.

“If you’re not there in ten minutes, I’ll come check on you, okay?”

She stepped out into the hallway, closed the door, and disappeared. Mukuro bit her cheek. She looked back up to the camera and wondered if Monokuma was watching her

One of the bandages on her arm had started to show a bit of pink blood. Mukuro slid open the closet door to get a new set, and gasped. There were ten more hangers, but these ones didn’t have rolls of bandages. They held nothing except identical black bras.

Confused, Mukuro reached over and took the nearest one. She examined it for some seconds before pulling it over her breasts. She blushed as soon as she did; these bras were at least a size too large for her, maybe two sizes.

Flat…

The word echoed in her mind. She furrowed her brow, wondering where it had come from. She wasn’t… exactly… flat.

She looked down to the bottles of antiseptic on the ground. She hadn’t noticed it before, but they’d also changed. Each one was now stacked on top of a small cardboard box. She kneeled down and took one, wondering what it was. The top of the box had a circle of dotted lines cut into the top, clearly intended for someone to break with their fingers and reach inside. She did, and her fingers immediately met a soft white paper.

Tissues?

For some seconds, she held the bra and box of tissues in either hand, perplexed. When it struck her what they were meant to be used for, she jumped back and dropped them both, blushing horribly and scowling. She kicked them both back into the closet, grabbed some new bandages, and slammed the door shut.

Stupid bear probably played the same joke on all of the girls.

-----

Mukuro examined herself in the mirror for longer than she meant to, cursing herself and what she looked like. Kyoko’s dark skirt clashed horribly against Hina’s bright white socks and yellow sneakers, and the formal white blouse was a complete mismatch when combined with the casual red track jacket. And although the gloves would have looked alright if worn, they were impossible for now; her hands were still too sensitive from the injuries.

Even without the still-visible bandages over her thighs and knees, the ugly clash of Hina’s energetic bright colors and Kyoko’s subdued dark ones was a complete wreck. No one on Earth would ever voluntarily wear something like this. What’s worse, Hina’s well-endowed jacket hung over Mukuro’s smaller chest almost comically. Despite everything, Mukuro found herself thinking about those bras and tissues in the closet and hating herself for it.

Thank God that Ultimate Fashionista girl isn’t here, she thought. I’d be her enemy for sure.

She turned away from the mirror and toward the door. As she did so, she accidentally faced the monitor bolted to the wall. It had been off when she lasted looked at it, but the screen was alive right now. It showed an image of a wooden throne, and on it, Monokuma. He slouched on the chair, his half-smiling face propped up with one hand, staring right at her. He was so still, in fact, that Mukuro’s initial thought was that it must be a static image. But his red eye shone or dimmed ever-so-slightly every few seconds, so that couldn’t be it.

Her heart pounded hard against her chest. When had the monitor turned on? Was the bear even really looking at her? What, if anything, was he trying to tell her? Was it against the regulations to ignore him?

She blinked, and in that quarter of a second, the monitor soundlessly turned off. There was no evidence it had ever even been on in the first place.

-----

Hina sat on a metal chair on the other side of the table from Mukuro. She leaned it back so it only stood on the back legs, but pulled herself far enough into the table that she could prop her knees on its underside. This let her both easily maintain her balance and reach the plate of semi-stale donuts a foot away.

“Weird!” she breathed.

In the same motion she used to speak, she grabbed and bit into another one of the donuts. She offered a second donut to Mukuro, who shook her head. In front of Mukuro was a simple bowl of soft yogurt – she’d decided that eating something as hard as an apple again was a mistake with her gums still sore.

“Monokuma’s motives are a complete mystery, but his methods are indirect and foul-intentioned.” Sakura said, crossing her arms. She sat on the same side as Hina. “It may well be that he intends to confuse and bully all of us in turn, until someone snaps and gives him what he wants.”

Mukuro felt terrible for having mistaken Sakura for a man when they first met, and for being so frightened of her. In this bright, calm light, the Ultimate Martial Artist’s noble spirit and honorable intentions were as clear and as physical as the table at which they sat. It was easy to be soothed by her words.

“I wonder if I do have a sister,” Mukuro said, changing the subject. “I guess there’s no way to really know, but…”

“But what?” Hina asked, half-muffled by a donut.

“I kind of want to believe that someone out there is waiting for me, but I don’t want to get my hopes up in case it’s not true.” She brought the spoon up to her lips and ate the yogurt. It was tasteless, but that was fine by her – she just wanted something in her stomach. “I guess there’s no point in dwelling on it, though.”

“You are likely correct,” Sakura said. “Our only concern must be to resist Monokuma. Our families… will be waiting for us.”

“No way!” Hina protested. “I’ve got a brother named Yuta, and I’m definitely seeing him again, and soon! Friends and families are a source of strength and… inspiration!”

She beamed with pride and heroism at the declaration she’d just made, then cringed as she realized Mukuro was the only person in the school who couldn’t draw from the strength she’d just extolled.

“Mukuro, I—”

Mukuro shook her head.

“I’ve still got you guys, right? So, I still have just as much motivation to escape this stupid game as everyone else.”

Hina cheered after Mukuro said this, and the mood of the conversation quickly shifted to be much happier. But in Mukuro’s heart, she knew the truth:

I want to know if I’m alone.

-----

Mukuro grew tired more easily than Hina and Sakura, and bid them farewell after only an hour. Stifling a yawn, she pulled herself out of the cafeteria and entered the main dorm area.

Hiro was there, standing on one foot and praying toward the ceiling. His hands were over his head, and Mukuro couldn’t help listening in.

“… Buddha, Vishnu, Zeus, whoever, c’mon, help me out… I’ll even give everyone a discount reading if you can get me out of here.”

Mukuro shook her head, then instantly regretted it as her neck started aching. Rubbing it as hard as she could, she made her way back to the hallway of dorm rooms and encountered an unexpected sight.

Kyoko was there, standing in front of Taka’s room. She’d slid the plaque off from its place on his door and was turning it over in her hands, carefully inspecting it for something Mukuro couldn’t possibly guess.

“Kyoko?” Mukuro asked. “What are you doing?”

Kyoko didn’t even look at her. Instead, she just slid the plaque back into its proper position.

“Observing,” she said, cryptically.

Mukuro looked over Taka’s plaque. As far as she could tell, it looked completely ordinary. She turned back to Kyoko to ask what made it special, but the other girl had already opened her own door, which was across from Taka’s, and stepped inside.

Mukuro shrugged and went into her own dorm. She yawned again, disrobed, and entered the shower. The steaming hot water felt almost too good against her bruises. Drops and rivulets of water streamed down her body, boiling steam filled her lungs, and the sensation was so relieving that she almost thought this was the first hot shower she’d ever taken in her entire life. When her legs started aching, she leaned against the sliding glass door for support, and just let the water flow over her.

Her mind went blank. The trancelike state she entered was one of pure ecstasy. She could stay in here the entire night.

DING DONG BING BONG

She yelled out, then slipped on the tiles and fell onto her butt. The water turned off without warning, and the last of the droplets squeezed out of the shower head and splashed onto her legs.

In the main bedroom, she could hear the monitor flicker to life. A familiar voice shrilled as she stumbled to her feet and fetched a towel.

“Mm, ahem, this is a school announcement. It is now 10 PM. As such, it is officially nighttime. Soon the doors to the dining hall will be locked, and entry at that point is strictly prohibited. Okay then… sweet dreams, everyone! Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite…”

Mukuro dried off the last of the water, wrapped the towel around her chest, and collapsed onto the bed, utterly exhausted. She didn’t even bother with the covers.

-----

Mukuro twisted and tried to cry out, but no words came. She was in a black void, but her back was still pinned on a cold and metal floor. All around her was a shifting, nebulous haze that grew thicker whenever she tried to focus.

A heavy body was on top of her, pinning her so that she could hardly breathe. She screamed, begging her friends for help, but the words died on her lips. No one came.

The haze lifted, and she saw that the body on top of her was Monokuma. Behind him were a hundred, two-hundred, three-hundred more Monokumas, twirling and dancing in place. It was a scene straight out of a fantasy. They danced, and the space between the Monokumas filled with more Monokumas, and the space around the Monokumas filled with more Monokumas still, until there was no more void at all, only an infinite cascade of grinning bears, dancing and shrieking and laughing.

The head of the Monokuma on top of her twisted around like an owl. It said something when its back was to Mukuro, but she couldn’t hear it over the din of evil cackling.

Then the head twisted fully around in a circle, and the eyes that faced her were not Monokuma’s, but Mukuro’s own.

DING DONG BING BONG

Mukuro’s eyes went wide. She wept and swung her head from side to side in fits, unable to parse that she’d never left her bedroom.

“Good morning, everyone!” cried the same voice from her dreams. As soon as she heard it, Mukuro started screaming. “It is now 7 AM, and nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!”

The monitor went dead, but Mukuro screamed for another several seconds and trashed on her bed. Her heart was leaping out of her chest.

The scream died only when she ran out of breath. She sucked in air for another few seconds, each gasp shorter than the last, spraying tears and saliva all over her bedspread.

After a while, the reality of the situation and her room overcame her fears, and Mukuro calmed down. But even when she dragged herself from the bed and started pulling on her skirt, her teeth were still clattering.

-----

Mukuro was still weak, but the pain from her injuries had partly dulled overnight. There was no more bleeding, and even putting weight on her feet didn’t hurt. Physically, she felt almost fine.

Best day of my life… that I can remember.

She opened her door, looked to the side, and saw Hifumi and Leon making their way toward the cafeteria, with Toko trailing behind at a fair distance. Mukuro still didn’t feel up for running, but it would definitely be easy to join them. She shut her door, stretched her arms, and managed a brisker pace than even Toko. The two girls entered the room at the same time.

Mukuro looked around and confirmed that, indeed, the full class was present. A bit to her surprise, no one except Byakuya and Toko seemed scared of her tattoo anymore. Hiro and Chihiro even passed right next to her without saying a thing. She felt… almost normal.

As before, Byakuya and Toko sequestered themselves at a private table, while Sayaka and Makoto sat together and chatted pleasantly. Hina and Sakura had saved her a seat at a small circular table, and the first was waving her over excitedly.

Mukuro frowned. Upon closer inspection, she realized Toko was sweating. The girl was always strange and nervous, but she’d definitely gotten worse in the time since last night. She was shaking with fear, almost to the point of hysteria, and her eyes flashed between each of her classmates, as if she expected someone to pounce at her. Only Byakuya was exempt from her obvious paranoia, having apparently won her trust at some point in the previous day.

Mukuro was about to sit next to Hina, but realized she could more subtly watch Byakuya’s table by sitting next to her. Hina started chattering about something, but all Mukuro paid attention to was that other table.

Toko was sweating profusely as she whispered to Byakuya. He seemed annoyed at first, but as he heard more, it became clear that whatever she had to say had piqued his interest. He was better at hiding his emotions than most of the class, but he was still no Kyoko – his expression definitely changed. At last, he frowned and said something too quiet to overhear.

Toko saw something last night.

Mukuro wondered what it was. Had she also had an experience with Monokuma?

“I sense it as well.” Sakura said. Her low, gravelly voice was almost a whisper. “The two of them know something.”

Hina furrowed her brow, then looked between her friends, completely perplexed.

“Should we ask them?” Mukuro asked.

“Confronting them directly, either in private or public, will only have negative consequences. Byakuya is prideful, but he isn’t stupid. If it’s to his benefit to reveal what Toko tells him, he will.”

Mukuro nodded. Sakura was right, of course. They would just have to hope that if it was important, one of the two would eventually tell everyone.

-----

Mukuro felt well enough after breakfast to really walk again. She wasn’t quite up to speed, running would be completely impossible, and she knew that she’d have to take frequent breaks, but she could probably make it as far as the gym. She was anxious to see the rest of the school, too; everyone had seen everything except for her. Hina offered to join her, but she also wanted a little time to think alone, so she thanked her, declined, and went her separate way.

Her strides were a little unsteady, but Mukuro made it to the door without issue. She had to pass by Makoto and Sayaka as she did, and the former of whom turned to her.

“Mukuro! You look great today.”

Mukuro’s face burned up at the compliment, and she automatically raised a hand to straighten her hair.

“Do I?”

“Yeah! Your injuries must’ve not been as bad as they looked.”

Makoto grinned with naïve happiness, not realizing how Mukuro had interpreted his words. He was just so guileless and sincere…

Mukuro’s face burned even more. Sayaka, though, definitely understood what Mukuro was thinking. It could have been Mukuro’s imagination, but she thought she saw Sayaka draw subtly closer to Makoto.

“Yeah,” she agreed. There was no hint of malice in her voice. “You look healthier today.”

They parted ways, and Mukuro realized that she wasn’t sure where to go. The short path between the dorms and the cafeteria was all she really knew, and the school opened up in several directions into several expanses.

For no reason, she wandered around the dorm area. The laundry room was boring, the girl’s restroom was exactly what it should have been, and there was nothing to be done about the rooms Monokuma had left locked or off-limits. It wasn’t long before she ended up in the dorm area again. She paused in front of Mondo’s room and tried to open the door, but it was locked, too.

She kept wandering aimlessly, until at last she came to the only unlocked room left: the trash room. For no reason, she opened the door.

“Oh!”

There was a large metal gate that could slide into the ceiling. It was down and locked right now, but on the other side of it stood a surprised figure holding her hands to her chest.

“Chihiro?” Mukuro asked.

Chihiro stood next to what was obviously the incinerator and its control panel. An orange fire burned within it. Behind it was an array of countless pipes, some thin, some very thick, broken up by unmarked levers and wheels to turn. Next to Chihiro were several white bags of trash, as well as a number of small trash cans she’d collected. Probably twenty feet of distance separated her from Mukuro.

“Hi, Mukuro.” she chirped. The surprise had already passed. “I’m just dumping the garbage.”

“In the morning?”

“I forgot to do it yesterday!”

Mukuro nodded. She leaned against a wall for a little support.

“Why’d you close the gate?”

“Well… you know… If I’m busy with the garbage, I’ll be looking at the incinerator… And someone…”

Chihiro looked away, guiltily. It was hard to tell from this distance, but Mukuro thought she might see tears in her eyes.

“Not that anyone would!” Chihiro added quickly. “It just… It just made me feel a little bit safer.”

“That makes sense,” Mukuro agreed. “You don’t have anything to feel bad about.”

Chihiro beamed. The bad mood was gone in an instant. She skipped over to the gate, and Mukuro recognized that the girl was going to offer to spend time together.

But then, just by chance, Chihiro’s eyes fell upon the Fenrir tattoo. She hesitated, and Mukuro’s face fell. It took all she had to resist the urge to pull her tattooed hand up and cover it.

“Anyway,” Mukuro started her way back to the door. “I’d better get going.”

“W—wait, I—”

“I still want to explore the whole school,” Mukuro waved without looking back. “I’m the only person who hasn’t seen it all yet.”

Her leg started acting up again just before she reached the door. She had to lope the last few feet, and she knew that only made her look more pitiable. Chihiro gasped, and she might have apologized, but Mukuro was out of the room before she finished.

-----

Mukuro wandered through the school without direction, entering rooms at random. She pulled at the immovable steel plates on the windows, wondering what she would even do if she escaped. She sat in desks in the classrooms to catch her breath, as bored as she would have been during actual class. In the corner of one of the blackboards, someone had scrawled HIFUMI WAS HERE in alternating colors of chalk.

The entrance to the school was exactly what had been described to her. Like the others, she examined the massive steel vault door, and like the others, she found nothing of value.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She turned around and found Byakuya in the doorway. He regarded her for a long moment, then walked in. Though he said nothing, he took the longest route around the walls, putting the most possible distance between himself and Mukuro.

“I… I’m not going to hurt anyone…” Mukuro said softly.

“I believe you.” he replied.

She frowned. He was the type to keep a distance between himself and others. It was almost plausible that he held nothing against her specifically, but yesterday’s scene in the cafeteria was still fresh in her mind.

There was nothing else she could think to say, so Mukuro simply went out the door. She turned to her left, expecting to see the cast iron gate that blocked off access to the stairs to the second floor.

Instead, the stairway was completely open. Mukuro gasped; she knew for certain that the gate had been closed yesterday.

“B—Byakuya!” she cried. She looked at him through the open entry door. “Come over here!”

He hesitated, but slowly came toward her.

“This had better be important.” he warned.

She pointed him to the stairwell. He looked around the corner at the same time she did. The gate was closed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“T—the gate…” She turned back to him. “It was open for a second!”

He scowled at her.

“I—I’ll prove it!” she said.

She half-ran, half-lurched to the gate, and tried to pull it up. It didn’t budge at all.

“Go get your eyes checked out.” Byakuya said contemptuously. “And no—you can’t borrow my glasses. They cost more than your entire outfit.”

He was gone a moment later. Mukuro stayed there by the gate for some time, pulling at it to no avail.

Maybe… my head…

Mukuro bit her cheek again. At length, she let her arms drop to her sides and pulled away from the gate. She prodded it one more time with her foot before finally giving up.

She strolled back to the benches where the others had found her for the first time. Just before she reached them, a shadow entered the student store. She hid around the corner and watched it: it was a short boy with scruffy brown hair and a too-large jacket.

The store was an ocean of disorganized cups, candies, balloons, and framed pictures. Much of the room was even filled up with novelty suits of medieval armor. How Makoto intended to find anything inside was a mystery.

Mukuro stayed behind that corner for a long time, watching him with wide, curious eyes. Makoto poked, prodded, and examined every inch of the store, slowly ferreting out what looked like copper tokens. When he was satisfied that he’d found them all, he inserted one into the garish white vending machine on the counter. Lights on top of it flashed, and it dispensed a small capsule. He opened it and pulled out a red hairclip with a black-and-white kitten on it.

It was the type of thing that appealed only to a girl with an interest in bright, cute clothing. Hina, perhaps, but never the gloomy and dour Toko, dark and elegant Celeste, or cool and composed Kyoko.

Mukuro stared at it greedily, imagining it in her own short, black hair. “Her” clothes were just a hodgepodge of Hina’s and Kyoko’s, but no one else had anything cute like this. It was the perfect accessory to make her unique, to give her something distinctive, even special.

She realized she was biting her thumb exactly the same way Toko sometimes did. Ashamed, she pulled her hand from her mouth and stuffed it into a pocket on her jacket.

Hell, I’m even skulking in a corner.

Makoto stowed the hairclip into his jacket, then made to leave the room. Swallowing, Mukuro timed her exit from the corner so that she would “coincidentally” run into him. Makoto waved.

“Hi, Mukuro!”

“Hi!” she said. She slid her hands behind her waist, then leaned forward a little. It was the best girlish pose she could manage.

“You doing alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m way better now!”

“Great to hear! See ya later.”

And then he was gone.

-----

The day rolled on without much else of note. Mukuro spent most of it in the cafeteria with Hina and Sakura eating, drinking, and speculating about what was hidden on the second floor.

“I wish we had a gym,” Hina pouted. “There’s nowhere to really work out here.”

“You could use the main hall in the dorm area?” Mukuro suggested.

“Dumb Hiro hangs out there all day, doing his stupid prayers and divinations. He’s too loud.”

Mukuro nodded without commitment. She wasn’t sure whether she preferred gods and divination to be real or fake.

“Announcement!” cried Taka. He hadn’t been in the room a moment ago. The three girls, as well as Hifumi and Leon at other tables, all turned to him. “I have found… a logbook!”

He held it high above his head for all to see. It was indeed an ordinary little logbook with a black leather cover.

“From this time forward, I will be logging everyone’s activities and ensuring order and safety within the school!”

“Where’d you even find that thing?” Hina asked.

“In… a storage closet!” He pointed heroically, seeming to believe this was an impressive accomplishment.

“Did you also find a pen?” Mukuro asked.

Taka opened his mouth to reply, then his eyes went wide. He puffed out his cheeks and hurried out of the room.

Everyone laughed, even Sakura.

-----

The night’s sleep was thankfully dreamless. Mukuro woke feeling even better than before. Her body was still sore, but almost all of the pain was gone. She even felt good enough to stretch.

“Ah!”

She regretted that idea as soon as she tried it. For whatever reason of bruises and muscles, moving her arms too high produced a sharp, stabbing pain all over her back. It didn’t last long, but she knew she wouldn’t be exercising with Hina and Sakura any time soon.

Breakfast came and went, as did the customary gossip with her friends.

Friends… she thought, pleasantly.

“Rrgh!”

The three of them turned to see Chihiro in the corner of the cafeteria. The diminutive girl struggled with two large bags of trash. She was forced to drag them on the floor, and somehow one of them had torn. A trail of sticky brown something snaked out of the bag.

“D—disgusting!” Hifumi said, propping up his glasses.

“Chihiro, do you require aid?” Sakura asked.

“No!” Chihiro cried. “I’ve… I’ve got this.”

She tried to pull both bags up behind her back to carry them, but the weight was too much for her. She stumbled backward and landed on her butt, staining her skirt in the gross liquid.

“No, Chihiro!” Hina ran over. “C’mon, let us help you.”

Sakura also hovered over her. Without a word, she picked up both bags in one hand. Chihiro looked up at them. Her eyes were hard to read – one moment she looked like she was on the verge of tears, the next moment, she almost seemed angry. It was clear that she didn’t want their help, but Hina was completely oblivious to this.

“… Thanks.” Chihiro muttered, still upset. “I’ll… come back here afterward and clean up the liquid. No one touch it until then!”

Mukuro got up to help, but Hina shook her head.

“You’re still sore, aren’t you? You can’t go around carrying heavy stuff.”

Mukuro pursed her lips, but accepted this.

“See you later, then. I’m going to go explore some more.”

Hina waved goodbye happily as the three girls left the room.

-----

Mukuro squeezed herself down as small as she could go, then pressed against the wall next to the door. It was just barely open, and she could see the shadows of the people inside. No one else was in the gym, which meant she could spy on the trophy room and never be seen. Even if someone moved to enter the gym, she’d have just enough time to make it to a bleacher and pretend to just be sitting around. No one would ever know… except maybe Monokuma, but he probably wouldn’t tell.

“… Jeez! I barely touched it, and I got that gold stuff all over my hand.”

“Wow, you’re right. Your hands are totally gold.”

Mukuro watched Makoto and Sayaka play with the gold-coated sword in the trophy room through the crack in the door. Makoto tried to wipe the gold varnish on his hand back onto the trophy case, meeting with only moderate success.

“You should take it with you!” Sayaka chirped. “It might help liven up your room a little.”

Mukuro bit her thumb, this time fully embracing her inner Toko.

Giving him a sword! She cursed herself for not thinking of that first. Swords are so cool!

It wasn’t even a bad weapon. Even in a sheath, it would still make a serviceable club. The gold coating was an annoyance, but if you wiped it off, argh! It was a perfect gift to impress anyone.

Makoto removed the kitten hairclip from his jacket, and Sayaka squealed with delight.

“… I can’t begin to describe this feeling!” she said, instantly sliding it over her ear. Its adorable goofiness was perfectly at home with her white shirt, pink ribbon, and shining smile.

Mukuro watched the exchange with hungry, envious eyes. A tiny stream of drool trickled over her hand.

“If anything were to happen,” Makoto said seriously. “When the time comes… I’ll protect you.”

“You’ll protect me?” Sayaka gasped.

Mukuro restrained herself from growling, but only just barely. Sweat and saliva flowed into a single liquid along her thumb.

Just look at the two of them…

She could just imagine them married as soon as they were out of here, teenagers or not. Competing with a gorgeous, smart, funny girl-next-door who was also an idol was a despair-inducing thought.

No… Even that’s flattering myself.

Aside from Sayaka frowning once when Makoto was kind to Mukuro, the two girls had barely had a single interaction. Sayaka probably didn’t think about Mukuro at all.

“What about you, Sayaka?” Makoto asked. Mukuro shook her head; the conversation had continued without her. “What’s your dream? I’d love to hear.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a star, as long as I can remember!”

Sayaka related her story: a motherless household, seeing an idol on television and mistaking her for a princess, that idol melting away her loneliness, and the earnest belief that you can chase your dreams and always make them come true. It was a heart-wrenching, beautiful tale, and even Mukuro was crying by the end of it, though not for the same reasons as Sayaka.

Dreams…

Sayaka’s dream was to inspire people and to be loved. Did Mukuro have anything like that? Dreams and aspirations? She searched inside herself and cried out for an answer, but found only a void where she thought a dream might go. Career? Family? Sightseeing? Love? It was bad enough not to want any of these things, but it was worse not to know what wanting them was even like.

No wonder everyone in the school was so driven, either to escape or survive. They all had dreams and goals and ambitions, all except for Mukuro. The thought of escape had barely crossed her mind so far, except as a vehicle to learn if someone was waiting for her outside. Meanwhile, Sayaka was the most driven girl in the school. It was so perfectly obvious why Makoto was enamored with her.

“Everyone in my group is like family to me.” Sayaka whispered. Her voice was unsteady. For a moment, that façade of a beautiful, perfect girl cracked. Sayaka’s skin went as white as a ghost, her eyes were wide, and she drew her trembling hands over her heart. “While I’m in here, the world out there is forgetting about me! Minute by minute, we’re all disappearing. I can’t… I can’t afford to be stuck in here!”

Mukuro’s own expression changed as she watched Sayaka’s breakdown. She had never imagined that the girl could cry out so desperately like that, to express the fear of her dream being crushed and lost forever.

The blood washed back to Sayaka’s face.

“Sorry, I kinda killed the mood, huh?”

“No, not at all,” Makoto comforted her.

Sayaka’s cheery demeanor returned all at once. A few seconds later, she was smiling and pressing out her breasts.

“I might not look like it, but I’m actually a pretty good cook!”

“Wow,” Makoto looked excited. “What’s your specialty?”

“Chili oil!”

“The… condiment?”

“Just kidding!”

Sayaka burst out laughing, and her bright smile was the last thing in the trophy room before the two of them disappeared into the hallway. Mukuro stayed concealed in the gym, not moving from her hiding place. She watched the empty trophy room for a long time, a single thought roiling through her mind:

Holy shit, she’s totally gonna kill someone.

Chapter Text

Leon and Toko walked into the cafeteria, both of them clearly reluctant and annoyed. Behind them marched a male figure in flawless white. His voice exploded into the room.

“Excellent! Everyone is here at last!”

It was telling how no one really reacted to Taka’s bellowing anymore. Hina didn’t even look up from her breakfast, and Mukuro watched the scene with complete disinterest. Her attention was laser-focused on the blue-haired idol sitting at the largest table, chatting pleasantly with everyone else like nothing was wrong at all.

Mukuro recalled something Sakura had once said about sensing “hostile intent.” The idea was that an experienced enough combatant could just feel when someone had an intent to kill, like some kind of instinct. To Mukuro, Sayaka gave that off like a lighthouse in the dead of night. She wanted to scream and ask everyone how everyone else didn’t feel it. But Sakura seemed not to sense it.

What’s that say about me? Mukuro wondered. She poked through her cereal before coming to a conclusion: That I’m either much better or much worse at it than Sakura.

Taka took up a position roughly in the center of the room, then slammed a fist into his palm.

“Attention, fellow classmates! I have an exciting announcement! I have decided that from this point on, we will all meet here and have breakfast every morning!”

He smiled proudly, as if this idea was the stuff of genius. The others mulled it over, talking amongst themselves, but most seemed agreeable. As usual, it was only Byakuya and Toko who looked uncertain about it. Toko in particular went green with disgust and started sweating.

“Y—you want me to eat breakfast with other people?” she muttered.

Her lips stretched into a smile Mukuro had no words to describe. It seemed to her like Toko was fantasizing about this, as if it was some kind of naughty, filthy thought to her.

“It seems that the fate of our future mornings has been decided.” Sakura said.

“It makes complete sense.” Kyoko said, tapping the back of her hand against her chin. She continued without looking anyone in the eyes. “It lets us keep track of everyone’s movements in the morning, helps establish camaraderie between students, and it will alert us if someone doesn’t show up because they were murdered at night.”

She said the last part so casually that it took Hina a moment to process it. Hina puffed out her cheeks and was about to protest when Mukuro interrupted.

“Those are all good points,” she said. “Maybe Taka’s actually pretty smart.”

Kyoko didn’t respond.

Time passed, and the topic of conversation turned to the mastermind behind Monokuma. Of course, no one had any actual clues.

“One thing I can tell you is who’s behind this!” Hina yelled. “Someone totally weird and messed up!”

Mukuro saw Byakuya roll his eyes.

For the first time in a while, Chihiro cleared her throat and spoke up.

“Um… If you think in terms of people who are really abnormal or bizarre… There is someone who springs to mind…”

Makoto looked surprised.

“Do you have an idea of who’s behind this, Chihiro?”

“Sort of… I can’t be certain, though—”

“Certainty is not a concern right now!” Taka roared. “All remarks are allowed!”

“Have you guys ever heard of Genocide Jack?”

The next few minutes consisted of random speculations about the serial killer. Everyone except Mukuro, Kyoko, and Toko joined in at some point. Byakuya seemed particularly well-read on the subject, surprising everyone.

This is just like the Junko Enoshima thing, Mukuro reflected. Everyone knows about this crazy murderer except me.

She felt less bad this time around, though. She met Toko’s fearful eyes, and knew they were thinking the same thing:

The fewer insane murderers in our lives, the better.

“It’s okay!” Hina said. “Everything’s absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent without a doubt going to be okay! ‘Cuz help’s gonna be here soon, I’m sure of it! We’ve been stuck here a few days, right? So, our families must’ve called the police already!”

Screeching, insane laughter burst through the cafeteria. Everyone, even Kyoko, tensed up. A moment later, Monkuma bounced in from some unknown shadow and was simply there at the head of the table.

“You’re putting your faith in the police? All they’re good for is losing against the villain! The bad guys come along and destroy them, and that shows just how badass they are! If you wanna get out of here, there’s only one way!”

Makoto shook his head.

“There’s nothing you can say that will make us start killing each other.” he said.

Monokuma hung his head down in a poor imitation of disappointment.

“You kids are so lazy and selfish… I’m so bored watching you! All the mystery ingredients are here – right people, right place. So why hasn’t anyone killed anyone yet? That’s what I couldn’t understand. But I just realized there was one important piece missing! Motive! I just need to give you all a motive!”

Taka shook his head.

“No one is interested in your motive, Monokuma! Get lost!”

“Oh? Weren’t you guys just talking a second ago about the outside world? Well, it just so happens that I have a video of what’s going on outside of the school, if you’re really that interested. I mean, don’t you want to know about your friends and family?”

No one spoke. Although Monokuma’s aims were childishly obvious, he was right: everyone wanted news of the outside world… with one exception. The bear couldn’t know that his taunts about friends and family were each a stab in Mukuro’s heart. She made sure not to show it, though.

“Anyway!” he shrilled. “If you really want to know what’s happening with that boring outside world you keep yammering about, just go to the AV Room!”

He was gone a moment later. No one spoke for a long while.

“So… who’s going to go and check?” Hiro asked.

“Why aren’t you volunteering?” Leon replied.

Hiro simply raised another set of prayer beads above his head and started mumbling.

“If this is a motive to make us kill each other,” Celestia said. “Perhaps we should just ignore it?”

“No one is going to do that, and you know it,” Byakuya chided. “The only real question is who we send there first.”

“It should be the person least likely to be compelled to murder, even if given a strong reason to.” Kyoko added.

“T—then who’s the s—smallest and most inept person here?” Toko asked. “Oh! Makoto!”

Everyone turned to him. No one protested what Toko said, not even Sayaka. Makoto smiled uncomfortably.

“Well… Okay.” He stood up. “If it’s something dangerous, I’ll call out.”

He waved awkwardly, then left.

-----

“Goddammit!”

The scream of rage was faint, but everyone heard it. There was no discussion or lengthy argument this time; almost everyone simply got up and ran to the AV Room.

Though Mukuro’s bruises were mostly gone, she was still too sore to keep up with the crowd. Only Kyoko matched her relatively slow speed. The quiet girl was certainly capable of keeping up with everyone else, so why she would choose to lag behind was a mystery. Then again, almost everything she did was a mystery.

When they finally joined the others, everyone sat at private terminals within the room. Each terminal had a monitor, a DVD player, and a set of headphones. The closest one to the door was Makoto’s, and he just sat at it, head in his hands. Next to him was a cardboard box with two DVDs. One was labeled “Kyoko Kirigiri,” and the other “Mukuro Ikusaba.”

Kyoko took hers without a word, then sat down at one of the terminals. Mukuro hesitated. Makoto was actually crying, either in frustration or fear. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Monokuma’s words bubbled up in her thoughts: Friends and family…

She pulled away from Makoto, took the final DVD, and found a terminal in the back corner of the room. No one would be able to see her monitor. Heart pounding, she set the CD in the tray, slipped the headphones over her ears, and pressed the Play button.

Static, and then a flash to life. Someone unseen was carrying a camera down a narrow, unlit hallway. Heavy footsteps echoed. Shadows were everywhere. There were doors on either wall, and on each of them was an empty holder where a plaque would have gone. With a terrified gasp, Mukuro realized what she was seeing: the communal dorm area.

The unseen person with the camera paused at one of the doors. A left hand stretched out to pull the knob. It was a woman’s hand. No – it was a teenage girl’s.

The lights were on, but only very dimly. The camera entered the dorm, and the heavy footsteps disappeared as floor tiles transitioned into carpet. Another sound took their place. It was something like a muffled cry.

A pink-sheeted bed came into view. On it was a teenage girl. Her blonde hair was pulled back into two enormous pigtails, each of which was held in place by a black or white hairclip in the shape of a bear’s head. She wore a black cardigan over a white shirt, a long, loosely-fitting white tie, and a tiny red miniskirt. Her hands were tied with rough, crude rope, as were her knees and ankles, and her mouth was covered by a heavy rag. Her skin was covered in scratches and blood. She faced away from the camera, and Mukuro watched her struggle and grunt, trying in vain to free her hands from the ropes.

The camera was set on the edge of the bed. The girl stopped struggling, and started to tremble with fear. She curled up into a fetal position, and seemed to pray through her gag. Then the girl who’d walked in grabbed her roughly by the hair, and flipped her sideways until her face came into view.

She was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous – she was the most attractive, irresistible woman Mukuro could possibly imagine. No mere words could do her justice. In fact, she was almost more beautiful for the streams of mascara flowing down from her red eyes. Trickles of blood flowed from bruises all along her forehead.

 She looked into the camera fearfully, fitfully, and then up to her still-unseen tormentor. She shut her eyes closed, but the hand bat her on the ear, so she peeked one open. Some signal was given off-screen, and she nodded her head. The hand pulled off the rag, then dropped her head next to the camera so that her face, damaged, angelic, and terrified, was all that could be seen.

She gurgled for a second, then spit up blood. Dripping pink obscured half the image.

“Mukuro…” she whispered. She looked up, then back to the camera. Her voice was barely audible. “Mukuro, I need you, Mukuro.” She tried to swallow, but only spit up more blood. Her eyes shut tight. “Oh God, Mukuro, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please forgive me, you’ll always be my big sis, I love you, please—”

The hand belt her on the ear again. She whimpered, then looked back into the camera.

“I know we always had our differences, Mukuro, but… It was always my fault. You hear that?” She smiled, sort of, and nodded profusely. “My fault, never yours. If you… If you forgive me, if you… Big sis, oh God, I’ll never argue with you again. Please, I love you—”

The rag was stuffed back into her lips. She screamed into it, but the hand pushed her face away from the camera. A heavy kick connected with her stomach a second later. The girl on the bed wheezed, then fell limp. She could have easily been dead.

Monokuma’s shrill voice pierced the scene.

“Oh boy, this is bad! What could have possibly happened to her? What could have possibly happened to your sister?! There’s only one way to check up on her!”

Goofy pink font exploded onto the screen.

LOOK FOR THE ANSWER AFTER GRADUATION!

The message faded, and the tormentor reached to turn off the camera. Just before the screen went black, her right hand came into view for a split second. On its back was a Fenrir tattoo.

-----

Mukuro lay on her bed face-up, staring at the ceiling. The DVD hid inside a drawer in her desk, but its presence was inescapable. She’d stopped shaking, and her heart beat at a normal rate, but she was still afraid.

It was worse than simple fear. It was as if nothing could exist within her except fear, as if she was a fear-shaped container mistakable for a person. It was as if those days with Hina and Sakura were just an accidental moment that should have never been possible.

She turned over on her bed. Was it this bed? Was this lavender-scented happy pink sheet the very one that her sister had been tied and beaten on? Tears welled up in her eyes. So many questions, and the only one who could answer them was Monokuma. Asking him would be worse than useless.

She buried her head in a pillow and screamed. Suddenly furious, she threw it at the camera. It caught against the lens for a second, then fell to the floor with a plomf.

She forced herself to calm down.

It’s a fake, she decided. It’s a fake, or else it’s shot to confuse me.

That was a comforting thought, actually. Monokuma would do something like that, and it would be very easy to tattoo a fake Fenrir symbol on the back of someone’s hand. Or maybe the person in the video was from Fenrir, and they were allied with Monokuma to get revenge for Mukuro leaving them.

But… was that really her little sister, begging and crying for help? Half of Mukuro wanted to believe she was real, that someone needed her, and the other half wanted her to be an actress working for the mastermind behind the bear.

She punched the wall. To her surprise, her knuckles not only damaged the wallpaper, they chipped a piece of the wood underneath. She wasn’t even bleeding. Curious, she kicked her desk, and sent it reeling back several feet.

I’m this strong?

She looked at her hands. If she was this strong while still injured…

At last, she decided there was no reason to stay locked in her dorm. She grabbed her key and opened the door to leave.

“Oh!”

Kyoko stood there, hand in mid-motion to press the doorbell.

“Mukuro.” she said.

“Kyoko…”

“I want to ask you for a favor.”

Mukuro frowned. She hadn’t really thought they were very close… But Kyoko had loaned her half of her clothing.

“What is it?”

“I’d like to see your video. You can see mine, if you want.”

Mukuro’s heart leapt out of her chest.

“Why?”

Kyoko tapped one of her gloved fingers against her chin. Her voice was perfectly calm.

“I’m certain everyone saw their family or friends in danger… But then I thought, ‘what would Monokuma show someone who has no memories?’ If it’s different from what everyone else saw, that could be a clue to his intentions.”

Mukuro bit her lip.

“It was… my sister… I think.”

Kyoko regarded her with cool eyes for a few seconds. Mukuro knew that the girl saw right through her. With total certainty, Kyoko knew that Mukuro’s tape was special.

“I see,” Kyoko said. As much as she ever showed emotions, she feigned disappointment. “Never mind, then.”

Mukuro made sure to lock her door when she left.

-----

DING DONG BING BONG

Monokuma’s typical nighttime announcement played. He said something about the doors to the dining hall closing shortly, but none of the three girls in the cafeteria moved to leave. Mukuro, Hina, and Sakura stayed right where they were and slowly finished their very late dinner. Hina and Mukuro each had only a single cup of tea remaining.

“… Mine was about my brother…” Hina murmured. “He’s on the track team at his high school. He was running, and then he was gone, and the entire scene changed to the track being destroyed. But I don’t understand how!”

“It may be an illusion of some kind,” Sakura offered. “But… There is no way to know for certain.”

“Ugh!” Hina slammed her arms onto the table, then laid her head on top of them. “Stupid Monokuma and his stupid games! I’m kind of scared, guys.”

“Do you think someone will try something tonight?” Mukuro asked.

“It is a distinct possibility,” Sakura said. “If someone were particularly ruled by emotions, the immediate aftermath of the videos being handed out would be the most dangerous few hours.”

Hina mumbled something to herself.

A figure appeared in the doorway that linked the cafeteria to the dorms. In the corner of her eye, Mukuro saw a flash of blue hair. She tensed up at once.

In the excitement of the videos, she’d completely forgotten about Sayaka’s strange behavior in the trophy room the other day.

The immediate aftermath of the videos being handed out…

Sayaka went straight to the kitchen without speaking a word. Hina and Sakura barely seemed to notice her presence. Mukuro tried to look her in the eyes, tried to get a sense of that killing intent, but it was impossible without looking conspicuous.

A minute later, Sayaka left the kitchen. Again, she went straight for the exit. Hina looked over and gave Sayaka a tepid wave.

“I… had to get a drink of water…” Sayaka said, barely seeming to register them.

Then she was gone.

Mukuro’s blood was pumping hard. Sakura noticed her distress and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, Mukuro?”

“I… no.” She stood up. “I’m feeling a little down right now. I think I might’ve eaten too much after… my injuries. I’m just gonna head to bed right now, it’s past ten anyway.”

She waved goodbye, then left the cafeteria. In the distance of the main dorm area, she saw Sayaka moving away at a rapid pace. Mukuro hurried to catch up, but made sure to stay silent. When Sayaka stopped, Mukuro ducked behind a corner. Sayaka looked from side to side to make sure no one could see her, then slipped into her room.

Her room? Mukuro’s eyes narrowed. As a semi-professional follower of Makoto’s movements, that didn’t seem right to her. She left her hiding place and crept up to the door. It did indeed have Sayaka’s plaque, but… She remembered Makoto’s dorm as being across the hallway from Mondo’s. She’d noted that because Mondo was the only dead student. According to the plaques now, Sayaka’s room was across from Mondo’s, and Makoto’s was to the side.

She noticed two shadows in the distance behind her. She hurried to her own room, fumbled with the lock, and dove inside just in time for Hina and Sakura to pass by without seeing her. When they were gone, she peeked out again.

The way the doors were set up, it was just possible to leave hers slightly open and still see Makoto’s and Sayaka’s rooms. If she turned off the lights the same way as in the video, no one was likely to see her from the hallway unless they came right up to her and looked inside.

She kneeled there in the doorway, absolutely still. Even her chest seemed not to move. Even Mukuro herself could not hear her own breaths. If there was any sound at all, it was only that of a bead of sweat dripping down from her chin and splashing onto the carpet.

Minutes passed. Mukuro’s mind went blank. Nothing existed except for those two doors.

Just when Mukuro began to wonder if she was overreacting, Sayaka’s door swung open. She crept out, made sure no one was watching, and ran down the hall. She moved so quickly that Mukuro didn’t have time to shut her own door, but Sayaka thankfully didn’t notice her anyway. The idol ran to one of the dorms on the far side of the hallway.

Thanks to the absolute silence in the hallway, it was just barely possible to hear the click of a button being pressed. Then Mukuro heard a paper being crumpled. She couldn’t see whose door Sayaka was at, but by eliminating all of the doors she could see right now…

Makoto, Kyoko, Taka, Byakuya, Toko, Chihiro, Hina…

That left only Celeste, Sakura, Leon, Hiro, and Hifumi.

Sayaka rushed past again, still not noticing Mukuro in the shadows. She quietly entered her room again. Five minutes passed, and then Mukuro heard the creak of a door she couldn’t see. Seconds later, Leon passed by. He was dressed as if it was still full daytime. Mukuro’s heart was on fire. He paused at Sayaka’s room, then licked his hand and slicked back his hair. He jumped in place for a moment, then finally pressed the doorbell.

The lock clicked. Leon took the knob in hand, twisted it, and stepped inside.

Mukuro moved without thinking. She twisted in place, pulled off one of her sneakers, and tossed it forward. It flew through the air with pinpoint accuracy and landed exactly where she wanted it to: right between Sayaka’s door and its frame.

She rushed forward, heedless of the aching in her legs and arms. Through the crack in the door, she heard a yelp.

“Ah!” Leon cried.

She heard heavy breathing, then a shink as metal struck metal.

Leon screamed, then there was a horrible snapping sound. Mukuro knew it was a bone breaking.

She kicked open the door. Leon stood there with a golden sword in his hand. Sayaka was huddled against the wall near the bathroom, screaming. Leon turned to Mukuro. Either by malice or fear, he swung the sword at her.

It happened faster than Mukuro could understand. The blade came at her, and she dodged to the side like she’d done this a million times before. At the same moment, her right hand raised on its own. It caught Leon by the wrist, and then she pulled him toward her. She stepped forward, slammed her fist into his neck, and yanked the sword out of his hand like he was a child. He gasped for breath, she flourished the sword, took it into both hands, and brought it down on his terrified face.

No!

She pulled back just in time. The blade left a nasty gash along his right cheek. He stumbled back, clutching both the wound and his neck, and tripped over an upturned table.

Sayaka was still screaming. Leon held out his hands in a motion of surrender, but he wouldn’t be making any noise with his throat like that.

Mukuro breathed in and out. It occurred to her in that moment:

I could kill them both, and no one would ever know.

Everyone else was asleep… Mukuro could silence them quickly, then simply leave back to her room. The entire dorm room was already contaminated by these two failed murder attempts; no one in the universe would ever be able to piece together what happened here by inspecting it. She could just play dumb as the others guessed randomly, maybe even make some “guesses” herself. Then, when she was out of this hellhole, she could find the police, tell them everything, and let them rescue the others while she found her sister. In fact, Hope’s Peak would actually be safer without two attempted murderers on the loose.

Sayaka’s scream finally died. Only just now did Mukuro see that her wrist had been broken by the sword. Leon coughed, hacked up some spit, then shoved himself up against a wall and whimpered. Their eyes were wide and crazy.

Without a doubt, this was the best opportunity anyone in the killing game would ever have to get away with it.

No one will ever know except Monokuma…

-----

“… and that’s the whole story.” Mukuro finished, having told perhaps half of what she knew.

She sat on the edge of the bed. Sayaka and Leon were sequestered in opposite corners of the dorm. The former nursed her still-broken wrist and the latter pressed a pinkening towel against his cheek. Both grunted and whimpered in pain. Sayaka was still wearing Makoto’s hairclip.

Almost everyone else stood or wandered about in the half-destroyed room, either surveying the scene or watching Sayaka and Leon. The only exception was Toko, who stood outside of the room and listened in. She didn’t dare look at the sight of blood. Many of the students were only half-dressed; it surprised Mukuro to learn that Celeste’s spiral pigtails were just clip-ons. Without them, her pale skin and short, dark hair actually made her resemble Mukuro quite a bit.

Kyoko kneeled over every dropped item and ran her fingers over every slash in the wall. The sword and kitchen knife were bundled together on top of the desk.

“Let me get this straight,” Hifumi said, pushing up his glasses. “You just happened to leave your dorm when Leon entered this one?”

“That’s right! I was thirsty.”

“But the dining hall is closed at night.”

“I… forgot.”

Hifumi shrugged, but Byakuya scowled at her. She wasn’t going to fool him with such weak lies.

Leon started to say something, but Kyoko cut him off.

“How’d you know something was wrong at all?” she asked. “You can’t hear anything through the doors.”

Mukuro was prepared for that one.

“The door wasn’t completely closed when Sayaka came at him with the knife. I heard him yell out, so I stopped it from closing and looked inside.”

This satisfied everyone, except the usual two: Byakuya and Kyoko.

“Sayaka must’ve picked up that knife when we were in the cafeteria!” Hina cried. Her eyes were wide with awe. “I noticed one was missing, but I didn’t think anything of it. Oh man, Mukuro, you totally saved two people’s lives!”

“You must be quite the combatant,” Sakura agreed. “Disarming a sword while injured? That is no small feat.”

“Look, man,” Leon screamed. “It’s not my fault! I just grabbed the sword that was already here, I wasn’t gonna kill her, I was just defending myself!”

Hina kicked him in the shin.

“Then why’d you try to stab Mukuro with it, you stupid liar?!”

“She came at me all suddenly, I was just panicking, I said I’m sorry! I wasn’t gonna hurt anyone, I wasn’t gonna kill anyone!”

“I have a question.” Byakuya said. He pointed at Mukuro. No – he pointed just beneath Mukuro. “Why is that bed blue? Aren’t the girls’ beds pink?”

Mukuro knew the answer to that, of course… But if she said it, that was as good as admitting that she’d been stalking Makoto.

“It’s not Sayaka’s dorm room,” Kyoko said. “She switched with someone else, including the nameplates. Isn’t that right, Makoto?”

He was standing near the doorway to the dorm. He’d heard everything, but he’d been facing away the entire time. Mukuro couldn’t see his eyes, but she could see his shaking fists.

“What do you mean?” Hiro asked. He was rubbing the back of his head. “Why would Makoto switch rooms with Sayaka to help her kill Leon?”

“He wouldn’t.” Byakuya said. He understood her meaning instantly. “Sayaka tricked him.”

Makoto’s fist shook so hard that it started to hit the wall. Little thump thump thumps were audible in the suddenly quiet room. Over them, everyone could hear sniffling.

But still he said nothing.

Toko cackled from outside of the door. Mukuro had forgotten she was there.

“O—oh, I get it! The f—fucking idol slut m—made up a sob story, then got the s—stupid idiot to switch rooms with her. Th—then she invited Leon over and…”

She made a throat slitting noise.

Makoto concealed his face in his arm. His body convulsed every few seconds, and it was clear he was crying.

“Makoto!” Sayaka tried to move toward him, but Sakura blocked her. “Makoto, it’s… it’s not like that…”

“Sayaka…” he breathed. He didn’t look at her. “Is what they said true?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She was crying, too.

“Were you planning this all along?” he asked.

“No!”

“Were all those memories and all that talk just so you could kill someone and frame me?”

“No, no, they weren’t!”

Makoto pulled himself from the wall, then ran out into the hallway toward the main school. His footsteps echoed for some time, and then he was gone.

Sayaka’s entire face was red. She was openly weeping. After a moment, she fell to her knees. Everyone, even the people who’d been upset with a moment before, looked at her with pity… except one. Byakuya just rolled his eyes.

“I will take Sayaka to the nurse’s office and tend to her wrist.” Sakura said. “After that…”

“After that, we tie up her hands!” Byakuya said. “We can’t have her running around anymore. I’d say to put her out of her misery now—”

“Byakuya!” Chihiro gasped.

“—but the bear would probably count that as a murder, which would only create more complications. Someone’s going to have to watch her from now on.”

Taka stroked his chin.

“In lieu of school authorities to report Sayaka’s actions to, I must regrettably agree with Byakuya. Of course, I will make a full report of this incident to submit to the administration as soon as possible.”

“Then that shall also be my task.” Sakura said. “I will attend Sayaka during the day and night until we can agree to trust her again.”

“Me too!” Hina joined in. “The two of us can take turns.”

“Look,” Leon interrupted. “It’s like I said, I was never going to—”

“Shut up.” Byakuya snapped.

It was agreed to take a vote. By a 7-4 margin, Leon was allowed to move freely. Byakuya and Toko were, as always, the most against the decision.

“There’s one more thing we should take care of,” Celeste yawned. “Makoto just ran off at night.”

“He’s not gonna hurt anyone!” Hina groaned.

“That’s not what I meant. It seems like he wanted to go and take a nice, long cry, yes? But if he falls asleep out there…”

“He’ll be violating one of Monokuma’s regulations!” Taka cried. “Someone needs to go out there and make sure he returns to the dorms before that happens.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Before anyone else could seize the opportunity, Mukuro stood up.

“Um… I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Hiro asked. “Aren’t you, like, tired?”

“Not really… In fact, I’m probably not going to sleep for the rest of the night. All of this excitement…”

She shrugged, then maneuvered out of the room.

Makoto was the lucky student? Not tonight – Mukuro couldn’t believe her good fortune. Or maybe it was a reward from one of Hiro’s gods for doing the right thing? Either way, she followed Makoto’s tracks.

-----

Mukuro found him in the gym. Makoto was sitting on the floor, leaning against the stage. Even from the doorway into the room, she could hear his tears and short breaths. Like most of the other students, he was only half-dressed, and was missing his customary jacket.

He looked up for a second and saw her. Then he turned away and covered his face with his arms. Mukuro didn’t know whether approaching him would make matters better or worse, so she just stood in the doorway, watching.

His tears stopped after a while. He looked back over to her. His eyes were red.

“Mukuro…” he said. She rushed to his side and kneeled next to him. “I… I guess I need to thank you. You… You saved Leon and Sayaka… And you… you stopped me from having…”

“You wouldn’t have been responsible for anything,” Mukuro said gently. “It would have been only Sayaka’s fault.”

“Is that really true?” Makoto asked. He was still trembling, and his breaths were more like wheezes. “She… Did she know what she was doing? Because… Maybe she was tricked somehow, by Monok—”

“She knew.” Mukuro said flatly. She reached out and put her arms around his shoulders. Her heart exploded out of her chest when he didn’t pull away.

“But… But then that means she took advantage of me.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I was trying to be kind, and she…”

He trailed off.

“Was I wrong?” he asked. “I wanted to believe in hope, that no one would ever play Monokuma’s game, but—”

“You weren’t wrong,” Mukuro said softly. She was surprised at how comforting she managed to keep her voice. “Sayaka… She just…”

What do I say?!

To tell him the truth as she saw it, or to say something that would ensure he’d never look at Sayaka the same way again? Mukuro sweat more than Makoto did.

“She just cracked under the pressure,” she said. “It’s no one’s fault but… but her own. You never made a mistake. You need to keep being kind and believing in people. There was one person who acted evilly, but we stopped it, and now she’ll never try it again because… well, because everyone would suspect her, right? So, you can be sure that your kindness and your hope will never fail anyone ever again, as long as we keep an eye on her.”

Makoto’s breathing slowed. He looked Mukuro in the eyes, and that sparkle he’d always had returned. His face was still covered in tears, sweat, and grime, but Mukuro knew that he would be alright.

“Mukuro…” he said.

She thought he was going to move up and kiss her. She was the one shaking now. She pursed her lips, her heart was racing, and—

Whatever energy had propelled Makoto this far finally failed him. His eyes closed, and he leaned his head against her shoulder. His warm breath blew against her breasts.

It was heaven.

Chapter Text

Mukuro pushed her elbows onto the surface of the cafeteria table, then propped up her chin with her hands. She stared into the face of the boy across from her, not even trying to hide her feelings. Though he was still somehow oblivious, probably everyone else in the room, which was everyone else, could tell what she was thinking.

But Makoto’s attention was elsewhere. He barely even poked at his breakfast.

Sayaka was in the corner of the room. At Byakuya’s insistence, her hands were still tied… although no one had really argued against him. Her right wrist was in as good a cast as Sakura could fashion, and either Sakura herself or Hina hovered around her at all times. For his part, Leon sat at the exact opposite corner. People were still hesitant around him, uncertain of his promises that he’d never hurt anyone except by accident.

Sayaka still had on her clothes from last night, including the hairclip she’d been given. They were wrinkled and dirty, but she didn’t seem to notice… anything, anymore. Her face was still pale, and she stared into a wall with aimless eyes. She never responded when spoken to, and the only indication she was alive at all was that she’d follow Sakura or Hina when pressed. To any outward indication, Sayaka was completely catatonic.

Good! was the only thought Mukuro would spare for her.

She found herself twisting a finger around a strand of her own hair as she looked at Makoto. From her position, she could see both him and Sayaka at the same time. Mukuro guessed, or perhaps just hoped, that he was trying not to think of that treacherous skank at all.

As always, Taka’s voice boomed in the room above the din of other conversations.

“Everyone! You will all be happy to know that I have recorded the full incident from last night!”

“You’re very reliable,” Hiro said, with more than a little sarcasm.

“I aim to be!”

Breakfast continued without incident until, five minutes later, Toko stood up suddenly. Taka was next to her, and Byakuya was already gone. She huffed, absolutely furious for some reason.

“Toko, I—”

“Rrgghhh!”

In a rush, she grabbed the logbook out of his hands and flung it as hard as she could, spinning it through the air. By awful chance, it landed square in the center of Celeste’s tray of tea and jam. Strawberry splattered all over her fine, lacey clothing.

Everyone watched quietly for a moment. Somehow, Celeste maintained her composure, and simply stood up and walked away. Bits of food trailed onto the floor beneath her.

Taka rushed over to his logbook and pulled it off of the tray.

“No!” he cried. Tears flowed liberally from his eyes. “It’s ruined!”

“G—good!” Toko sneered. She grabbed her own breakfast and ran out of the room.

“I’m sure you can find another one,” Makoto offered.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I already have four, and I copy everything onto all of them just in case the primary one is damaged.”

Everyone was speechless.

“Then…” Hifumi trailed off.

“This one was my favorite!” Taka bellowed. “The others are yellow, pink, and lime green! This was the only black one!”

There was another moment of stunned silence, and then everyone turned away to ignore him. Heartbroken, Taka tromped over to a large trash can, one that was already overloaded with uneaten food, and tossed his former logbook inside.

“Mukuro,” Makoto said after a while. “I was thinking… I don’t know, maybe I’d just hang out around the school again. Do you want to—”

“Yes!” she said, a little too quickly.

“Alright.” He finished off a hash brown, then stood up. “First, I’ve got to talk to Sayaka.”

Mukuro’s heart sank.

“Why?” she asked sharply.

“She’s not a bad person, you know? I’m… I’m still a little mad at her, but if we can all put this behind us, we’ll all be better off for it. That’s what I believe in!”

Despite herself, Mukuro started cheering for him internally. It was such a… a pure interpretation of events, she couldn’t help it.

They walked over to Sayaka. Her eyes didn’t move from the wall. Hina and Sakura, who were sitting to her, looked happy that he’d come to work things out.

“Sayaka,” Makoto put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice. “Please, Sayaka… I’m not upset. I’m not mad! See? I was just angry last night.”

Her expression didn’t change, but Mukuro still sensed the overwhelming shame that burned within her.

“I don’t blame you for what happened. I blame Monokuma.” Makoto maneuvered around Sayaka and sat in front of her. Instantly, she closed her eyes and looked away. She whimpered pathetically, and a layer of sweat caked her entire face. “I want to still work together with you, and with everyone. I want to still be friends!” He reached for her good hand. “In fact, if you’re up for it, I still need you as my Ultimate Assistant.”

Sayaka pulled her hands over her head and took the fetal position again. Then she rolled onto the floor and under the table. She might have easily hurt her wrist again when she struck the floor, but she didn’t mind at all.

“Sayaka…” Makoto reached down for her again, but Hina put her hand on his.

“Things’ll be alright, but I bet she needs some time,” she explained.

“But—”

“Makoto Naegi! You might be over what happened last night, but she’s not. Give her a little bit, okay?”

Very reluctantly, Makoto pulled his hand back. He let Mukuro lead him away and out of the cafeteria, but not before saying one last thing.

“I still believe in you, Sayaka, absolutely. When you’re ready, come find me, and we’ll talk.”

If anything, that made Sayaka even worse. And Mukuro…

Mukuro knew the happy, satisfied feelings she had were wrong, but she just didn’t care.

-----

They talked.

They talked in the gym, in the trophy room, in the dorms, in the cafeteria, and in the entry hall. They talked while walking, while sitting, and while throwing stuff at the wall and watching it bounce off.

They talked about Makoto’s little sister Komaru, about his parents, about his house, about his old school, about his favorite TV shows and video games, and about boring, ordinary things that had happened to him when he was little. And it wasn’t just him talking; Mukuro listened intently, pressing him for further details whenever she could.

At first, she asked because she wanted to know more about his life. But it wasn’t long before it became her life, at least in her mind. She could almost imagine the goofy little sister Komaru as her own, that boring, ordinary high school as her own… It was easy for Mukuro’s imagination to replace itself with Makoto’s descriptions, to pretend his memories were her own. The only times she didn’t ask for more was when he reminisced about Sayaka in middle school.

Eventually, they found themselves in the school store.

“I don’t know how much I really believe in all that luck stuff,” Makoto said. “… ‘Ultimate Lucky Student.’ That’s not even really a skill in the same way as your guys’ Ultimate abilities. And if I’m so lucky, why are we all here?”

“Maybe it’s so you can save people!”

“What?”

“Imagine if everyone was here except you, and we all eventually kill each other like Monokuma says.” Mukuro said. “By being here, you change something that allows people to survive. Maybe you stop a murder, maybe you figure out who the Blackened is, whatever… The point is, just being here lets you alter events. And if you want to help people, then that’s pretty lucky for you.”

And I know you want to help people, she thought. You’re too nice a guy not to.

Makoto flushed red.

For no reason, Makoto tried the MonoMono Machine again. It shuddered and popped out a capsule. Inside, he found a paper charm emblazoned with the symbols of a god of martial arts.

“A God of War charm…” Makoto said. “I’m about the least qualified person in the world to have one of these… But I know someone who is.”

He held it out to Mukuro. She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes, then cradled the charm in her hands.

It was even better than a hairclip.

-----

As the day wound to a close, Makoto and Mukuro were walking to the cafeteria when they heard a grunt from inside.

“Rrgh!”

They peeked around the doorway. Chihiro was the only person inside. She was trying to move an entire heavy bag of garbage and two large trashcans from the room all at the same time. Taka’s food-stained logbook glimmered in one of them. The task would have been possible for a larger student, but not for such a diminutive girl.

“Chihiro!” Makoto ran over. “Do you need some help?”

“Oh, Makoto… Well, I guess. Thank you. I probably shouldn’t have tried to do this all in one trip.”

Makoto leaned over and took the heavy trash bag. When Mukuro came over for one of the trashcans, Chihiro hesitated. She looked much less happy about her help.

Is she still afraid of me from the other day? Mukuro wondered.

Actually, now that she thought about it, Chihiro had been upset when Sakura and Hina helped her. If she was completely fine with Makoto…

Does she not like other girls? Mukuro wondered.

They walked into the main dorm hallway. Hifumi passed them when Mukuro decided to shift the trashcan to rest on top of her shoulder instead of against her chest.

“Ah!”

Pain stabbed all over her right shoulder and part of her spine. She stumbled, but Makoto caught her in his arms. She swallowed hard.

“Thanks…” she nodded. “I guess my injuries… When I raised my arm over my shoulder…”

Hifumi looked over as he walked by, but didn’t offer to help them. Mukuro moved the can back down to her chest.

“I’m okay. Let’s keep going.”

They arrived at the trash room a minute later. Chihiro lifted the gate, and for the first time, Mukuro realized how noisy these pipes behind the incinerator were. Steam flowed through them probably all the time. Mukuro couldn’t even hear her own footsteps over the din.

There was more trash piled up beside the incinerator, probably the entire school’s worth of it. Chihiro must have made multiple trips back and forth, and they were here only for the last one.

When they were all inside, she slid the gate down and locked it.

“Oh, sorry, that’s just a habit… You know…”

“I get it.” Makoto nodded.

Chihiro pressed a button on a panel next to the incinerator. Orange flames roared to life within the machine, and then heat poured out of it. It was like they were on the surface of the sun.

Mukuro knew she was the strongest one here, so she grabbed one of the heaviest bags and held it up to the fire—

“Argh!”

That stabbing pain struck her again. She stumbled, and the bag fell out of her hands. Makoto grabbed her.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We can handle it, you can just sit over there.”

Mukuro had too much pride to obey that request, so she settled for taking only the lightest of the trashcans, the tiny ones from the dorms, and slowly raising them to the fire. Makoto and Chihiro were the ones who lifted up bag after bag and flung them into the incinerator. When only the large, heavy cans were left, like the one from the cafeteria, Makoto took them into hand one at a time and held them up to the flames. Once, he misaimed, and a half-eaten apple hit the machine’s surface and fell to the floor. As Mukuro had guessed, the pipes drowned out the sound of the apple striking the ground.

When they finished, all three of them settled onto the floor and took a break. Chihiro in particular was very exhausted.

“Thanks, guys…” she panted.

“It was no problem!” Makoto said. “I was a little surprised you volunteered to be the first person to deal with the garbage.”

“Well,” Chihiro said. “It’s like I said… I’m useless without a computer.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is! I wish I was stronger.”

“Like Sakura?”

Chihiro didn’t respond immediately. She seemed almost annoyed.

“Something like that.” she murmured, almost too softly to hear.

Mukuro traced her finger along the floor.

“I don’t think you should worry about that, Chihiro.” she said.

“Oh?”

“Your programming might not help right now, but how many of the other Ultimates are strong or fast or tough? They aren’t any better at escaping than you are, and you at least know exactly how to use your skill once you have a chance…” Mukuro wasn’t really paying attention to Chihiro or Makoto anymore. Her mind drifted away, but she just kept talking. “How many people out there will go their entire lives without ever knowing what they’re good at, or what makes them happy? Some people will go their whole lives and not know if they’ve made any mark on the world at all… You’re the Ultimate Programmer. Your code, you can look at it and know that it’s yours, no different than anyone else using their physical strength to move or build or kill something…”

Mukuro trailed off.

Not know what you’re good at… she thought. But the truth was, between the tattoo and chipping that wall, she had a pretty good guess at own her talent already.

She shook her head. The others were looking at her.

“Mukuro,” Makoto said. “That’s… kind of profound.”

“Ahhhh,” She blushed. “No, it’s not. I was just talking.”

Chihiro sighed.

“Maybe you’re right…” she said. “I mean, I do still want to get stronger, but…”

Makoto shook his head.

“There are a million ways a computer expert can help us – hack open the vault door at the entrance, contact the police, take control of the Monokuma robots… It’s not your time yet, Chihiro, but this is a school. There’ll be computers somewhere, and once we find one, it’ll be your time to shine.”

“You’ll save everyone,” Mukuro agreed. “You’re the single person most likely to save us all.”

Chihiro brightened instantly at the idea.

“My time… to shine…” she repeated. Her eyes were wide.

When they were all rested, Chihiro turned off the machine and unlocked the gate. She took most of the cans in her hands and nodded to them.

“I’m gonna go return these,” she said. Her spirits were high again. “See ya!”

Makoto and Mukuro returned to the cafeteria. Dinner was fun… but unexciting. When night fell, he walked her back to her dorm.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Mukuro said.

Makoto nodded.

“Me, too. I just wish… Ah, anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Of course!”

They parted ways, perhaps a little awkwardly, and Mukuro entered her room. It was still completely unpersonalized.

How do you decorate a room when you don’t even know your own tastes?

Thanks to Makoto, Mukuro finally had an answer. Carefully, delicately, she hung the charm over her bed and grinned.

-----

Another breakfast passed. Everyone was present, although Byakuya and Toko retained their customary distance from the others. The former seemed to barely tolerate the latter. Mukuro wondered if he did so because he wanted company, no matter his seeming aloofness, or because he needed a potential ally.

Sayaka was exactly the same as before. She whimpered occasionally, but remained white as a sheet. Mukuro was certain she hadn’t showered or changed clothes in two days. Even that hairclip was still on her, an eternal reminder of her failure and betrayal. She never ate, even when Hina practically pushed food onto her. Sometimes her eyes moved to Makoto’s back, but she always quickly turned away. The aura of shame and self-loathing from her was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I really want to help her,” Makoto whispered. “Do you think if I go over there…”

Mukuro looked back over to the quivering girl. Even she was beginning to pity her. She scowled.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think she hates herself for what she did.”

One person who certainly didn’t hate himself was Leon, who moved through the cafeteria like nothing was wrong at all. By paying attention to others’ reactions to him, Mukuro guessed that Sakura, Celeste, Byakuya, and Toko all feared he would try something again. Kyoko, too, perhaps, but she was hard to read.

The cut Mukuro made on Leon’s cheek had turned into a scar, and no one was more impressed by it than Chihiro. She studied it intently, complimenting its shape and color, and was so in awe of it that she even left the room with him. Leon would have that scar for the rest of his life, and…

Damn, Mukuro admitted. That’s a really nice scar.

Mukuro was almost jealous of it. If she’d been in this mercenary company Fenrir, why did she not have any scars like that? She shook her head and turned back to Makoto.

“Do you want to do something fun again today?” she offered.

He sighed. He was still very clearly torn.

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess.”

And that’s exactly what they did.

-----

Someone, Mukuro wasn’t sure who, prepared chicken for dinner that night. People entered and exited over time, but Mukuro and Makoto stayed and just talked. By about 9 PM, only Mukuro, Makoto, Hina, Sayaka, Leon, Chihiro, and Byakuya were left, the last of whom arrived very late to begin with.

Leon was talking to Chihiro at a table in the corner. His voice raised, and then he started groaning.

“Man,” he complained. “I wanna get outta here so badly! There’s nothing to do in this school.”

“Then kill someone,” Byakuya chided.

Everyone grew quiet.

“You keep talking about that,” Leon fired back. “But I don’t see you trying anything.”

“Of course not. Only an idiot would make the first move.” Byakuya grinned. “Once I learn more about how the process of finding the Blackened works, and see what worked and didn’t work for the first killer or two, I can improve upon—”

“How can you just say that kind of stuff?” Hina pointed at him. “You’re, like, acting super suspicious.”

Byakuya shrugged.

“I was actually quite surprised by the incident the other night with the sword. Between Leon, Sayaka, and Mukuro, only one of them was smart enough not to try to kill anyone. I didn’t expect you two to be more bloodthirsty than the mercenary.”

At that, the already-traumatized Sayaka sniffed and turned away. She covered her ears as best she could with bound hands, and began shuddering.

“You monster!” Hina cried. “C’mon, Sayaka.”

She quickly led the idol out of the room. Leon huffed and looked like he would run over and attack Byakuya. Byakuya didn’t move at all, absolutely confident in his own invincibility.

Frustrated, Leon grabbed one of the metal chairs and slammed it against his own table. The table’s single leg broke apart, and the pieces of it fell to the ground and rolled away. Still upset, he tromped out of the room. By chance, this was when Kyoko entered. She stepped to the side and let him go.

Chihiro sighed, then ran after Leon.

“I’m… gonna make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” she explained.

They watched her disappear. Hina and Sayaka left shortly afterward.

“Kyoko,” Makoto said. “Do you want to join us? We’re just talking about life outside of the school.”

“Really?” Kyoko raised an eyebrow. “What would someone without memories have to talk about?”

Mukuro flushed red.

“Not much,” she admitted. “But it’s neat hearing others talk.”

Kyoko shook her head.

“No, but thank you.”

Kyoko took a seat by herself and started on a late dinner. Sakura entered the cafeteria shortly afterward, though, and left with water. The nighttime announcement played, and the day ended without incident.

-----

Breakfast the next morning was awkward. Several people were late, including Byakuya, Toko, Leon, and Hiro. Leon was still fuming at Byakuya from the previous night, but chose to avoid him rather than confront him. Sayaka was back to what passed for normal for her, still quiet but for her whimpering. She was finally dressed in a new set of clothing, but Hina had to almost feed her to get her to eat.

Despite all of this, the general mood was mostly friendly. It had been so many days since Monokuma had last made his revolting presence felt that Mukuro was actually in decent spirits. She felt even better for the fact that this was the first time since waking up in the school that she no longer needed any bandages. Her bruises were completely gone, and her skin had returned to its natural pale color. She still got sore when lifting things, but she could run and jump, and otherwise felt completely healthy. While they ate, Sakura's eyes studied her every muscle. Even her normal stoicism wasn't enough to mask her obvious curiosity.

She's wondering if I'm really some great Fenrir warrior.

The idea of Mukuro ever testing herself against Sakura was a frightening one. There was no doubt in her mind that the Ultimate Martial Artist could effortlessly handle the entire rest of the class combined... but neither of them approached the subject actively, and so any questions went unstated.

Hifumi was the first person to finish his breakfast. At about 8 AM, he stood up and moved to where the trashcan normally was – but the space was empty. Before he could speak, Taka made a noise.

“Hm!” He pulled out a logbook – lime green – and started scribbling in it. “Most curious.”

“What is?” Hifumi asked.

“We… are missing a person!”

Mukuro blinked. She looked around and realized, to her surprise, that Taka was right. The entire morning had gone by without Chihiro joining them.

“Where is she?” Sakura asked.

No one responded. Taka cleared his throat.

“Has anyone seen her since dinner last night?”

Again, no one responded. Taka tapped his foot on the floor. Without warning, he pointed at Hina.

“Hina! You will check Chihiro’s room!”

Hina pursed her lips, but set her tray down and ran out. Two minutes later, she ran back into the cafeteria.

“I pressed the button like a billion times, but she wasn’t there.”

The air was still. No one said a word. Everyone knew what this meant. Only Byakuya grinned.

“Then it’s begun.” he said.

Hiro grabbed his head.

“Oh, no, no, no, the cards said I still had at least a week, man!”

“Nothing’s begun!” Hina growled. “Chihiro’s just missing.”

Kyoko stood up.

“We should split into teams and search the school. Everyone should stay with another person to ensure a potential killer can’t tamper with evidence.”

“There isn’t a killer…” Hina protested, but not as loudly.

Seconds later, they were assembled into pairs: Makoto-Mukuro, Celeste-Taka, Sakura-Hiro, Kyoko-Leon, and Toko-Byakuya. Hina would stay with the still unresponsive Sayaka in the cafeteria.

Makoto and Mukuro took the dorms area. Just to be safe, they ran up and down the hallway, pressing the doorbell for each room. There was no reply. Next came the laundry room. Chihiro was small enough to fit inside of a washing machine, so Mukuro checked each one. Thankfully, she found nothing except some boy’s forgotten underwear.

“I’m a little scared…” Makoto said.

“Me too.” Mukuro agreed. “If someone killed Chihiro, then… Then they’d have been eating with us this morning, like nothing was wrong. That’s something a sociopath would do.” She hugged herself and shuddered. “And that would mean we’d been with that person for all this time, never realizing anything was wrong.”

That thought unsettled Mukuro. It was bad enough to not know herself, but this would mean that she couldn’t even tell such malice from others.

They moved out of the laundry room and toward the restrooms. Each of them checked their gender’s stalls and toilets – nothing.

 The only place left was the trash room. They stood in front of its door for a long while.

“Chihiro was on trash duty, right?” Makoto asked. “So… If someone was going to target her…”

Then they’d know exactly where to find her.

Their hearts were both racing. Each looked the other in the eyes and knew that neither of them wanted to be the one to push open the door.

Mukuro took in a deep breath, turned the knob, and slowly pushed the door open. The sharp creak made her bite her lip. The heavy din of the steam in the pipes blasted out of the room. On the opposite wall from the door, Mukuro saw orange light dancing. She took one step inside and looked past the locked gate.

Chihiro lay on the floor to the side of the incinerator, face-up, in a large pool of pink blood. Her eyes were open, but they saw nothing.

Mukuro stood there, dumbfounded. Distantly, she heard Makoto screaming. She didn’t know how much time passed, but there was a rush of footsteps. Someone said something, then pushed past her – it was Sayaka. She looked through the gate and yelled out. A few seconds later, Hina arrived.

DING DONG BING BONG

“A body has been discovered!” shrilled an excited voice.

Chapter Text

“A body has been discovered!” Monokuma’s excited voice screeched from all directions. “After a certain amount of time, a trial will begin! Everyone, please assemble in the trash room!”

Mukuro, Makoto, Sayaka, and Hina all stood in stunned silence.

Kyoko was the first to arrive. Unlike the others, she stayed fully sober. To pass the time until everyone else joined them, she kneeled by the gate and examined each of its bars, then tested its padlock. Mukuro had never paid any attention to the gate or the lock before, but Kyoko seemed particularly interested in the latter.

It’s just a big silver rectangle…

The rest of the class ran inside one-by-one. Almost everyone gasped or cried when they saw the body. Toko was one of the last ones, and Hiro, of all people, had the presence of mind to stop her.

“Woah, Toko,” he warned. “It’s really bloody in there.”

She paused, bit her thumb, and hanged back in the hallway. She didn’t thank him, though. And then—

“Heehee!”

Monokuma peeked out of the door, then stepped inside the trash room.

“Poor, poor Chihiro!”

“You bastard!” Leon cried. “This is all your fault!”

“Me?” Monokuma feigned offense. “Why, I didn’t do anything! I never forced anyone to kill anyone, or even told you to. The person who killed Chihiro… is one of you!”

Everyone grew quiet. They wanted to argue or disagree, but…

“Who is it, who is it?!” Monokuma jumped from side to side. “Well, you’ll be figuring that out soon… at the class trial!”

“Class trial?” Mukuro asked.

“Mmhm! After you collect evidence, I’ll summon you all to a special courtroom, where we’ll have a class trial. At the end, you’ll vote for who you think did it. If you vote right, the Blackened will be punished. If you vote wrong, everyone besides the Blackened will be punished.”

“Just to be clear,” Kyoko said. “By ‘punished,’ you mean ‘killed,’ correct?”

Somehow, she kept her voice perfectly even.

“Yep, yep, yep! And now, I have a present for all of you!” Monokuma dipped his paw behind his back, then pulled out thirteen black-covered files. “It’s… the Monokuma File!”

“Monokuma File…?” Hiro repeated.

“Yep! Think of it something like an autopsy report. You’ll need it to solve the murder!”

“Then you know who killed her?” Byakuya asked.

“Of course! I couldn’t run a very fair trial without knowing that!”

“That’s a good point,” Kyoko said. “The judge has to be able to make the proper decision. That’s… almost comforting, actually.”

Monokuma quickly dispensed the files.

“And now, I’ll just be leav—”

“Hold it.” Kyoko said. “If you want to run a fair trial, we’ll have to be able to examine the body. The gate is locked.”

Monokuma paused.

“Rrghghghhhh…”

He pulled out another silver key and twisted it in the padlock. Then he signaled at the nearest student, Hifumi, to pull it open. A moment later, the gate slid into the ceiling.

“And now,” Monokuma continued. “I’ll just be—”

“Wait.” Byakuya interrupted. “I don’t think this is the case, but if the victim committed suicide—”

Monokuma shook his head.

“Around here, the only deaths not considered murder are disease and old age. Anything and everything else, someone is responsible for, and it’s up to you to figure out who that is. And now I’ll just be—”

“A moment,” Celeste asked. Monokuma growled. “Can the killer work together with anyone else?”

“Yes,” Monokuma replied, clearly annoyed. “There can be up to one Blackened and one accomplice at a time. But only one student, the one who actually does the killing, will be the Blackened, and the accomplice will be treated like anyone else. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just be—”

“Wait,” Hiro scratched the back of his head. “Then can’t you just kill everyone else but yourself, and leave that way?”

“No!” Monokuma growled. “Fine! Jeez, you kids.” Somehow, magically, he produced an e-Handbook of his own. His fingerless paws tapped on it furiously. “I’ll add a bunch of new rules to establish all of these very obvious things. And if anyone else interrupts me again, I might just get a little angry!”

He waited for a few seconds. No one else spoke. Satisfied, he bounced out of the room. Mukuro decided to read her Monokuma File.

The victim was Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer. The time of death was around 9:30 PM. The body was found in the back of the trash room. Cause of death is a blow to the back of the skull. Death was instantaneous.

Truth Bullet added: MONOKUMA FILE #1

Afterward, she checked her e-Handbook for the new rules.

Rule #8: Any given Blackened may only kill two victims.

Rule #9: Once a murder takes place, a class trial will begin soon after. Participation is mandatory for all surviving students.

Rule #10: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

Rule #11: If the guilty party is not exposed, they alone will graduate, and all remaining students will be executed.

She looked up to find Kyoko had already finished with her file and was approaching the body. The others all stayed back awkwardly, apparently afraid to touch Chihiro. Even Makoto hesitated, but Mukuro…

She felt nothing. A body was just a thing. She walked up to it as casually as Kyoko had. As she examined the corpse that had once been her friend, the heavy din of the pipes drowned out all other sounds.

Chihiro lay flat on her back. Her eyes were wide open, but completely lifeless. Her head rested on the floor just next to the still-active incinerator. A pool of pink blood spread from the back of her head. It was old enough to have partly set, and become more sticky than liquidy.

“We need to examine this entire scene for evidence,” Kyoko said. “That’ll be our starting point.”

“Who put you in charge of the investigation?” Leon asked. “I mean… You could’ve done it!”

Kyoko stood up and faced him.

“The Monokuma File said the murder took place at 9:30 PM last night. I was with Mukuro, Makoto, and Byakuya in the cafeteria at that time.”

Leon bit his lip.

“If you trust anything that stupid toy says…”

“Listen, guys,” Hina said. “I hate to flake out on you, but I don’t think Sayaka… is doing too well with this blood…”

Sayaka’s eyes were as wide as they had been that night with the sword. The expression on her face was unreadable.

“I’m gonna take her back to the cafeteria,” Hina said. “Toko, you hate blood, too, right? You can come with us.”

Toko growled, but actually obeyed. The three of them disappeared a moment later.

“The rest of us…” Kyoko murmured. “We’ll need two people to guard the body and make sure the evidence isn’t tampered with.”

“I volunteer,” Sakura said.

“I shall do this, also!” Taka cried.

“I’ll do some divinations!” Hiro gave a thumbs up, then disappeared into the hallway.

Byakuya crossed his arms.

“Which is more likely,” he mused. “That Hagakure really is this dense, or that it’s all just been an act to prepare for this moment…”

Celeste smiled kindly, then waved goodbye.

“I think you have this well in hand. I wouldn’t want to get in the way… If you need me, I’ll be finishing up breakfast.”

Then she was gone.

“Leon and Hifumi,” Kyoko said. “Could you please guard Chihiro’s room? We may have to examine it soon.”

Both of them seemed disappointed at the task they’d been assigned, but soon agreed and departed. The moment they were gone, Byakuya shook his head.

“Funny, isn’t it? Chihiro spent a lot of time with Leon… He doesn’t seem upset at all that she’s dead.”

“I thought you suspected Hiro!” Makoto said.

“Not really,” he said. He smiled a second later. “I think he’s probably as dumb as he looks.”

This left Kyoko, Makoto, Byakuya, and Mukuro in the room. Kyoko eyed each of them.

“Don’t think you’re investigating the body alone.” Byakuya warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Kyoko said. “Makoto, please come over here.”

“Me?” Makoto blinked. He was shocked, but obeyed the request. “Why… me?”

Kyoko kneeled down by the body again.

“I’ll need someone to help me.”

“But all of us have alibis for when she died.”

Kyoko shook her head.

“That’s not enough, for reasons you’ll learn at the trial. What matters right now is this: cooperation is absolutely key at this point, and who you decide to trust will determine everything. In my judgment, you’re the least likely person to be the killer.”

“Well, I trust Mukuro completely. I think she should help.”

Kyoko looked over to her. She didn’t exactly give any signal to join them, but Mukuro somehow understood. Byakuya came as well.

“First, let’s examine the area around the incinerator and the body.” Kyoko said.

It was easy to see what she thought was important. Piled up next to the incinerator were several white trash bags brought in from the rest of the school. Next to them were a number of trashcans. Some of them were the large versions from the cafeteria, while others were the tinier versions from the dorm rooms. The dorm trashcans were empty, but the cafeteria ones were still full.

Truth Bullet added: CAFETERIA TRASHCANS VS DORM TRASHCANS

“Chihiro burns the trash every night,” Mukuro said. “She must’ve been in the middle of it when she got ambushed from behind.”

“A reasonable assumption,” Byakuya said, rather snidely. “Except that her body is to the side of the incinerator, not in front of it. She couldn’t have been dumping the trash at the moment of death.”

Mukuro poked her tongue in her cheek. Byakuya’s logic was sound.

Truth Bullet added: POSITION OF THE BODY

Kyoko started digging through the remaining trash. Without looking back at the others, she said only: “Next, the incinerator.”

Makoto took this one. He looked inside and saw the fires still burning.

“It must have been on all night.”

“That fits with her getting ambushed while working.” Mukuro added.

“Good,” Kyoko said. “But I meant the corner of the machine.”

“The corner…?”

Mukuro and Makoto both gasped. A large amount of blood stained the upper back corner of the incinerator near Chihiro’s body. It was impossible to see from the front of the room, but with their attention drawn to it now, it was unmistakable.

“I wonder how it got there.” Mukuro asked. “Maybe the murderer hit Chihiro, and then the weapon kept going and banged against the incinerator, getting some blood on it?”

Byakuya scoffed.

“For that to happen, Chihiro would have to stand at the side of the incinerator, maybe a foot away from the back wall, and face away from the door. That’s not very close to the pile of trash or the mouth you feed it into.”

Mukuro fell silent. Byakuya was correct in that that seemed implausible, and yet… Chihiro’s body was right there, and she clearly hadn’t been facing toward the door.

Truth Bullet added: INCINERATOR WAS ON ALL NIGHT

Truth Bullet added: BLOOD ON THE INCINERATOR

“We’ve delayed long enough,” Byakuya said. “It’s time to check the body.”

Kyoko pulled away from the trash and cleaned her gloves on a discarded towel.

“I agree.”

“What were you searching for in the trash?” Makoto asked.

“Potential murder weapons, or blood. I saw nothing in there that could be used to kill Chihiro.”

“Wouldn’t you just throw the murder weapon or bloody objects into the incinerator?” Mukuro asked.

No one responded.

Kyoko kneeled down by the body. The pool of blood from Chihiro’s head extended in all directions. She stepped around it, then paused. She pulled out a pen from her jacket, then poked at something at the edge of the pool near Chihiro’s foot. Mukuro pulled back in shock.

It was Taka’s old logbook. Its cover was black leather, and its spine faced the front of the room, which allowed it to blend into the rest of the floor. The pages were still splattered with food, and the bottom cover was stained with blood from the pool.

“That’s impossible!” Makoto cried. “We threw that out two days ago!”

“It was in one of the trashcans?”

“The big ones, from the cafeteria. Toko got it dirty, so Taka had to throw it out. Mukuro and I helped Chihiro throw stuff out that day, and I know we had the can it was in.”

“Curious…” Byakuya crossed his arms again. “Only the back cover has blood on it…”

“Is this the murder weapon?” Makoto asked.

No one had the answer.

Truth Bullet added: TAKA’S LOGBOOK

Finally, there was no more delaying. Mukuro stood next to Kyoko, and they examined the body.

“Over there!” Makoto said. He pointed at Chihiro’s left hand. She was clutching something shiny.

Kyoko reached over. Without any hesitation or respect for the dead, she simply pried open the girl’s hands. Inside, they found a string of brown prayer beads.

“One of Hiro’s useless baubles…” Byakuya said.

“How’d it get here?” Makoto asked.

Kyoko took the beads. Only a few of them on the end of the string had any blood, and even those were only lightly stained on their bottoms, just like the book. In addition…

“There aren’t enough beads here,” she said. “This is only around forty. There should be one-hundred-eight.”

“The top of the string is frayed.” Mukuro noticed. “It’d be easy for the beads to fall off if they were held from the other direction.”

“This doesn’t look like a very good murder weapon, either.” Makoto said.

He’s right, Mukuro knew instantly. She was calculating ways to kill using a string of prayer beads before she knew what was happening. The only remotely plausible method would be strangulation.

Truth Bullet added: BROKEN PRAYER BEADS

Kyoko set the beads down. Next, she turned Chihiro’s head to the side. As expected, there was a deep cut in the back of the skull, like something had pierced it. The area around the cut was undamaged, save for being covered in blood.

“Mukuro,” Kyoko said. “Do you see what’s wrong with your initial guess that the weapon killed her, then banged against the incinerator?”

Mukuro studied the wound for a moment.

“Oh! It pierced her, not slashed her. It’s impossible for it to have moved horizontally from her head to the machine.”

“Very good,” Kyoko said, smiling very slightly.

“Check her pockets,” Byakuya said. “I want to see something.”

Kyoko obeyed. She pat down Chihiro’s outfit, then untied her green jacket. Underneath the jacket was a white shirt, and on that shirt was a pocket. A moment later, Kyoko had the silver gate key.

“What’s this mean?” Makoto asked.

“Can’t you guess? Think about what the key being here means.”

Makoto bit his lip. Mukuro could tell he was really thinking.

“Well,” he said at last. “If Chihiro had the only key on her when she died, the killer shouldn’t have been able to lock the gate after they left.”

“It’s even weirder than that,” Mukuro added. “They shouldn’t have been able to get to her at all. Chihiro always locks the gate when she burns the trash.”

“She does?” Kyoko asked. This was the most interested she’d been in any information so far.

“Yeah,” Makoto agreed. “She mentioned that she always locks the gate while she works, even when she has someone helping her.”

“Maybe the killer helped Chihiro burn some trash, killed her, opened the gate, locked it again, and threw the key back?” Mukuro suggested.

Byakuya was about to snap at her, but Kyoko patiently held out a hand.

“Mukuro,” she said. “Do you remember where we found the key?”

“Chihiro’s pocket… Oh.”

Mukuro stared at her feet, feeling stupid. No one in the world could throw a key from twenty feet away and land it in a pocket.

Truth Bullet added: KEY IN POCKET

Truth Bullet added: LOCKED GATE

“We’ve examined everything here,” Kyoko said. “We need to check elsewhere for clues.”

Byakuya left without waiting for the others.

“I know where I’m going,” he said. “I won’t need you for the rest.”

He was gone a moment later.

Kyoko led Mukuro and Makoto into the hallway. She set a direction toward the dorms.

“Thanks for letting us help you, Kyoko.” Makoto said.

She shook her head.

“It’s important that we all be able to defend ourselves in this class trial, and find the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Suppose someone you trust actually is the killer, and you realize it during the trial. What would you do?”

Makoto shook his head.

“I can’t imagine. What would you do?”

“Expose them immediately. Not just for the truth, not just because they’re a murderer, but also to save everyone else. It’s your duty. And if you can’t handle that…”

“I can.” Mukuro said. “But… I also know it can’t be Makoto.”

Kyoko stared her down.

“Who you decide to trust is important, Mukuro, but having absolute trust in someone else is a liability.”

Kyoko didn’t reply. They reached Chihiro’s room a second later. Leon and Hifumi were waiting.

“Hey, it’s you guys,” Leon said. “Find anything?”

“Maybe,” Kyoko closed her eyes and adjusted her glove. “But I have a question for you, Leon.”

“Sure.”

“You saw Chihiro last night, didn’t you? She ran after you when you stormed out of the cafeteria. You might be the last person to see her alive.”

“Woah! I see where this is going!” He shook his head. “Nothing happened. She caught up to me at like 9:15. She was all ‘you should calm down, don’t let Byakuya get to you,’ but I was just angry, so I locked myself in my dorm. I don’t have any idea what happened to her after that.”

“Did anyone else see you enter your dorm?”

He grunted.

“Hina might’ve…” he said. “I remember seeing her in the dorms at the time.”

She regarded him for a long moment, then nodded.

“Thank you, Leon,” she said. After that, she marched toward the cafeteria. Mukuro and Makoto hurried to catch up.

“Wait,” Makoto said. “Aren’t we going to check Chihiro’s dorm?”

Kyoko didn’t look back when she responded.

“There’s nothing useful in there.”

“Then… why’d you tell them to guard the door?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Makoto couldn’t, but Mukuto understood at once.

“You just wanted them out of the way.” she said.

Kyoko gave one of her very rare, very faint smiles again.

“Do me a favor,” she said. “Go to the cafeteria and interview everyone there for their accounts of last night.”

“What are you going to do?” Makoto asked.

“Check something.”

She rounded a corner and was gone.

“She could really stand to be clearer!” Mukuro groaned.

The two of them entered the cafeteria next. Hina and Sayaka sat at one table, while Hiro was at another nearby. Toko and Celeste were gone.

“Makoto!” Sayaka stood up, ran to him, and pressed her bound hands against his chest, completely ignoring the cast still covering her wrist. There was actual color back in her face. She was still messy and pale, but the catatonia and shock were gone. “Makoto, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I…”

She trailed off into tears.

“It’s okay, Sayaka.” He took her hands. “It’s okay. I know you made a mistake that night.”

She shook her head.

“I… I would’ve…”

“I know you still care.”

“How?”

He pointed to her head.

“You’re still wearing that hairclip I gave you.”

Shocked, Sayaka reached up and tapped the hairclip. Her jaw fell.

“I… I forgot…”

“I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone again,” Makoto said.

“I promise, I promise! When I saw Chihiro, I… She was so gentle and kind…”

“After the trial, I’ll get everyone to hold another vote. I’m sure they’ll let you go again.”

Sayaka managed a weak, wavering smile, then nodded several times. Makoto scratched the back of his head, then grinned.

Mukuro’s heart fell. The way they looked at each other…

“We have a job to do,” she said flatly. “Hina!”

Hina joined them a second later.

“Jeez, way to ruin the moment, you… moment… ruining… person!”

“Hina, we need to know what happened to you last night with Sayaka.”

“Why?”

“Because… Well, think about it. People are going to assume that if you tried to kill someone once, you might try again.”

The moment was indeed ruined after that. Sayaka’s hands fell, and she looked away, completely ashamed.

“There’s nothing to really say,” Hina said. “We were in the cafeteria with you guys and Byakuya until around 9:10 PM, when Leon and Chihiro left. Then—”

“Wait!” Mukuro thought back to Leon’s description of events. “Did you see Leon and Chihiro?”

“Yeah, for a moment. Chihiro said something to him, then Leon locked himself in his dorm. Chihiro left after that.”

That fits with what Leon said…

“After that, we met up with Sakura, and the two of us decided Sayaka needed new clothes. We took her to her room around… 9:15 or so?”

“Were you with her the entire time?” Mukuro asked.

“Well, no, but Sayaka went into her room to change. I stood outside of it. There’s no way she coulda left the room without me seeing her.”

“Wait! So, you were standing in the dorms then?”

“Yep.”

“Did you see anyone else? Anyone at all?”

Hina poked her tongue into her cheek.

“Besides Leon and Sakura, who went to the cafeteria to get us some water, I didn’t see anyone.”

“Oh yeah,” said Makoto. “Actually, I remember seeing Sakura then.”

Truth Bullet added: HINA’S ACCOUNT

“Thank you. Do you know where Toko and Celeste went?”

“Celeste just wandered off on her own. Toko was here until Byakuya showed up. He told her he needed her help, and she went with him.”

The four of them stepped over to Hiro next. He was at a table by himself, staring into an expensive-looking crystal ball.

“Hiro.” Mukuro said.

“Mukuro! What’s up?”

“What happened to your prayer beads?”

“My prayer beads? Woah, how’d you even find out about those?”

“Chihiro was holding them when she died.”

Hiro threw up his hands.

“Woah, wait, what?!”

“This is important, Hiro.”

“Well, yesterday, I was doing some meditations in the cafeteria, right? Taka screamed out something, don’t remember what, and I lost my concentration. I accidentally snapped the beads, and they went flying everywhere. I didn’t know how to fix the string, so Taka helped me pick all of them up and chuck ‘em in the trash.”

Truth Bullet added: HIRO’S ACCOUNT

“Thanks, Hiro.”

Kyoko ran into the cafeteria.

“Hiro and Hina. They had some interesting things to say…”

Kyoko nodded. She led Mukuro away from the others and into the kitchen. As they spoke, she busily examined the walls and drawers.

“What were you doing?” Mukuro asked in private.

“Checking for any secret way to enter the trash room. Byakuya and Toko had the same idea,” She tapped the back of her hand against her chin, then abruptly changed the subject. “Who do you think is the most suspicious?”

“I don’t know,” Mukuro said. “But I bet people’ll accuse Leon and Sayaka right away.”

“They will.”

“Will you?”

Kyoko didn’t reply at once.

“I’ll view whatever they say as neutrally as I can.”

Mukuro turned around, then turned back to Kyoko.

“Kyoko… A while back, you asked to see my DVD…”

Kyoko said nothing.

“There’s a reason I didn’t let you, but… It’s just that I was scared. And stupid. I know you… Well, after the trial, if you still want to see it, I’ll show you, okay? But you have to promise—”

DING DONG BING BONG

The monitor on the cafeteria’s wall lit up. Monokuma sat on a wooden throne and stared into the screen.

“So, I’m getting bored. What say we get started, hm? It’s time for the long-awaited class trial! Now then, please go through the red door on the first floor of the school! Heehee! See you soon…”

-----

Mukuro licked her lips. The red door…

It stood at the end of the hallway, as ominous as the day she’d first woken up in the school. Back then, it had been completely unknown. Now that she had only one fact about it, that Monokuma wanted her to go through it, she wanted it to stay unknown.

But there was no disobeying the bear. She swallowed, walked down the hall, and pushed it open. Everyone else waited inside, save Chihiro. In the back of the room was a gate to an old-fashioned elevator. Another of Monokuma’s monitors was bolted to the wall.

Someone in this room is a murderer… she told herself. Someone here is willing to let everyone else die in order to escape.

She nodded to herself. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Makoto and Sayaka were in the corner of the room. Someone had removed the rope around her hands, and she was almost back to normal. One of her wrists was still in a cast, but her other hand was over her mouth, and she smiled and laughed at some unheard joke he’d just made. It was as clear as the day Mukuro had never seen that the two of them were made for each other.

Sayaka grabbed Makoto’s hand and said something. Mukuro felt like she was being crushed.

When you look at me like you’re looking at her now, when I feel your hand in mine… I feel like I’m real, like it doesn’t matter that I don’t know who I am…

It would have been so convenient if Sayaka was the killer, but… to her surprise, Mukuro realized she didn’t want that to be the case. She reached inside for that desire and found it simply absent. And in a strange little way, she almost felt proud of that.

Okay, Makoto… If proving that Sayaka’s not a killer will help you, then… I’ll do it.

The monitor lit up.

“Heehee! Everyone’s here! Okay, folks, please board the elevator in front of you, and it will transport you to the courtroom… where all your fates will be decided… I’ll be waiting!”

They entered the elevator one at a time. It was almost impossible to breathe with this many people crammed inside. When the last person stepped inside, it descended. No one said a word. The air was heavy and humid. Even the cheerier students like Hiro and Taka were deadly serious.

When the elevator stopped, everyone gasped.

They entered a wide, circular room. The walls were blue, and red velvet drapes were arranged to cover certain portions of them at regular intervals. In the center of the room, sixteen podiums were arranged in a circle. Behind one of them stood Monokuma’s wooden throne, on which he sat, waiting for everyone to arrive. At another was a picture of Chihiro, but two red scribbles of computer plugs were drawn over her photo as an X. At another was a picture of Mondo, that biker boy who’d died the first day, who also had a red X drawn over him.

“Okay, okay!” Monokuma cried. “It’s finally time! Everyone find your assigned seat! Hurry, hurry!”

They did as he demanded. Mukuro’s seat was next to Makoto, who was flanked on the other side by Sayaka. He smiled at each of them, then held out a hand on either side. They took his hands, linking together, and shared in each other’s strength.

Our first case is opening… A deadly crime… A deadly double-cross… A deadly mystery… A deadly lie… A deadly… class trial!

Chapter Text

Once everyone was settled at their podiums, Byakuya was the first to speak.

“Before we start properly, I want to confirm something with the bear.”

“Oh?” Monokuma cocked his head.

“You said that there are only two keys to the gate, correct? One for Chihiro, and one for you? And you’ve never loaned out your key to anyone else?”

“Yep, yep, yep, that’s right! I’ll choose another person for trash duty after the trial… if there’s anyone left, of course.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Just make sure it’s not me.”

“You seem pretty confident, Byakuya.” Makoto said. He withdrew his hands from Mukuro and Sayaka, but his presence and warmth still buoyed them both.

“Of course,” Byakuya grinned. “Who else is has a chance? This entire game is nothing but another way to prove the superiority of the Togami family name. In the end, I’ll stand alone as the victor.”

“Don’t argue with him,” moaned Celeste. “Defeat isn’t a concept he understands.”

“Of course I do,” he said, still grinning. “It’s what happens to people who aren’t me.”

“I also have a question for Monokuma,” Kyoko said, rather softly.

“Oh?” Monokuma cocked his head even further.

She pointed to the sixteenth podium, the one in front of him. It was empty, and didn’t even have a picture like Chihiro’s.

“Why is there an extra spot?”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Monokuma waved a paw dismissively. “It’s just that this class courtroom is technically large enough for sixteen students. Don’t worry about it.”

Byakuya adjusted his glasses, then faced the rest of the courtroom.

“Good,” he said. “I suppose I’ll let you all know what I was doing during the investigation – it’ll save us some trouble later. I checked every wall and floor in the rooms and hallways around the trash room. I’m absolutely certain that there are no ‘hidden entrances’ of any kind that would let someone bypass the gate.”

Toko pouted.

“I—I helped, too…”

“Ah, I see,” Celeste cooed. “You wanted to confirm that this is a ‘locked room’ mystery, yes?”

“Exactly.”

“Excellent work, Mister Togami!” Hifumi pointed to the ceiling. “With that, we know the murderer must’ve gotten in through the gate!”

“No.” Byakuya said at once. He made no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.

“Whaaaaaat?!”

“Chihiro’s body was about twenty feet behind a locked gate. The only key to the gate was with her. That means there are three possibilities. One, that someone threw something through the gate that hit her in the head, killing her. Two, that someone was in the gate with her, killed her, and left. Or three, that someone set a trap in advance.”

The others students considered this for a moment. Mukuro swallowed, wondering who would point out the obvious problems with each. To her surprise, it was Makoto.

“I don’t know about that…” he said, scratching his chin. “Each of those options has an obvious problem. For the first, we didn’t find any weapon near Chihiro that could be thrown into the room and kill her. For the second, the gate was locked when we found it, and the key was with Chihiro. And for the third, we didn’t see anything that looked… well, trap-y.”

“I’m glad you were paying attention,” Byakuya grinned again. “But it won’t be hard to resolve them. Isn’t that right, Leon?!”

“Wh—what?!” Leon jumped back, though not very far. “What’d I do?”

“Killed Chihiro, of course. You already tried to kill Sayaka, so we know you would.”

“I didn’t—”

“But more importantly, Chihiro always locked the gate to the trash room as she did her work, specifically to prevent herself from being snuck up on. As the Ultimate Baseball Star, you’re the only person who could stand outside of the gate and throw a small object with enough force and accuracy to kill her.”

Leon balked.

“I didn’t do anything like that, man!” he screamed.

“Excuse me!” Taka crossed his arms. “I believe Makoto said that no obvious murder weapon was found on the scene. I would assume that if Leon threw something, it would be either in Chihiro’s head, or on the ground next to her.”

“Y—yeah!” Leon smiled nervously. “Makoto and Taka are right!”

“Oh, that’s easy to explain.” Byakuya went on. “You simply tied a rope or a long string around the weapon, whatever it was, and kept the other end with you. When Chihiro was dead, you spooled it back up, creating a crime scene that seemingly had no murder weapon.”

“Ingenious!” Hifumi gasped. “I had no idea Mister Kuwata was capable of such insidiousness.”

“Pardon me,” Celeste said. “But wouldn’t that leave a long trail of blood between Chihiro and the gate?”

Byakuya shook his head.

“Not if you used a towel and a long stick or rod to mop it up from outside.”

Mukuro watched Makoto out of the corner of her eye. He’d grabbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger and furrowed his brow in thought. Sayaka stood on the other side of him, watching him just as intently.

(Present Your Argument)

“I’m telling you, I never did any of that stuff!” Leon screeched.

“I dunno, man, it sounds pretty possible to me,” Hiro shrugged.

“It would be easy to find a knife in the kitchen to throw at Chihiro!” Taka shouted.

“Th—the boys’ rooms have toolkits!” Toko stuttered. “Wh—what if you took apart a classroom chair or desk to make the pole?”

“And there are any number of towels in the school…” Celeste nodded.

“Then that’s it!” Hifumi cried. “You threw a knife into the back of Chihiro’s head, then cleaned up the scene!”

(Break)

“No, that’s wrong!”

The voice shook everyone, save Kyoko and Byakuya. All eyes turned to Makoto, shocked at the force with which he’d shouted the words.

“Leon could throw something to kill Chihiro, and he could clean up the crime scene, too, but… Did you consider the position of the body?”

“The body?” Hina repeated.

“Chihiro was killed by a blow to the back of her head. If you throw something at someone’s back, they should fall forward. But she was laying on her back.”

“Oh, yeah!” Leon nodded fitfully. Sweat flew everywhere. “Haha, that’s right, that’s right! So, I couldn’t have killed her!”

“But wouldn’t it be possible to flip Chihiro over with the stick?” Sakura asked.

“I don’t think so,” Makoto said, stroking his chin. “Chihiro was small, but she must have still weighed around 90 pounds. There’s no way you could push her onto her back from that distance with just a thin stick.”

“Okay, then consider this!” Taka pointed at Leon. “Perhaps he called Chihiro over to the gate, killed her when she turned away, and flipped her over by shoving his hands through the space in the gate! Then, he pushed her—”

“Pushed 90 pounds with just a thin stick?” Celeste asked.

“Maybe he had more than one stick, and he used them together!”

“No,” Makoto said. “Because you and Byakuya forgot something else…”

“What?!”

Makoto stroked his chin again before responding.

“You forgot about the blood on the corner of the incinerator! It’s around three feet tall. There’s no way the blood could get that high unless she was killed while standing up, next to the machine. Furthermore, Chihiro’s back was to the incinerator, not to the gate. If you pulled the weapon out of her head with a rope, there’s no way it could leave a bloodstain in that position. All of that proves that—”

“She wasn’t killed by a throwing weapon.” Byakuya finished the statement. He sounded completely unimpressed.

“What?” Makoto blinked. “But you—”

“Oh, I knew the throwing weapon hypothesis was wrong, I just wanted to get it out of the way so we could move on.”

Leon turned red.

“That isn’t funny, man!”

Mukuro’s mouth was agape. No matter Byakuya’s haughty attitude, Makoto had blown open his entire argument with ease. After all that complaining the other day about luck not being a real talent, Makoto proved that he was at least an amateur detective. Focused purely on the case like this, he seemed almost like some kind of hero, shooting down foes with bullets of logic.

Sayaka noticed it too. She watched him with as much awe as Mukuro did.

Mukuro caught Kyoko out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t said a word since the trial began, but she was tapping her chin with the back of her hand and smiling. Her words from the investigation echoed in Mukuro’s mind:

It’s important that we all be able to defend ourselves in this class trial, and find the truth.

Had she been guiding him this whole time?

“Cheer up!” Hina punched the air, then faced Leon. “This proves you didn’t do it.”

Byakuya shook his head.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Leon was the only person who could throw something to kill her, but anyone could have killed her a different way, so he’s still a suspect. More importantly,” he said, cutting off Leon’s angry rebuttal. “This leaves only two possibilities: either Chihiro was killed by someone inside of the gate, who somehow escaped afterward, or she fell victim to a trap set in advance.”

“Yeah, actually,” Hiro leaned over his podium. “I’m still kind of confused about how she died?”

“Yes, this is a mystery to myself, as well,” Celeste said airily. “Perhaps it would help to establish the murder weapon?”

Kyoko finally broke her silence.

“Chihiro’s skull was pierced by something fairly large,” she said. “I think it was thicker than a knife, but it might not have been sharp. I checked the scene, but there was nothing like that there.”

Hifumi adjusted his glasses.

“Then, for the moment, let us assume that the killer struck Chihiro right then and there, and there was no trap set in advance!” he said. “What could the weapon have been…?”

(Present Your Argument)

“Could the killer have used the sword?” Taka asked.

“No,” Sakura said flatly. “After that night, I broke the blade in several places, then disposed of it completely.”

“Then it must have been something from the kitchen!” Hina said.

“No,” Kyoko said. “I checked the kitchen during the investigation, and everything was in its proper place.”

“That’s easy to explain,” Leon said. “The killer just wiped off the weapon, then put it back.”

“I suppose that is plausible…” Celeste agreed.

“Oh, oh!” Hiro interrupted. “What if the killer smashed her head in with the corner of a book!”

“A b—book?” Toko asked, rather angrily. “B—books aren’t weapons!”

(Break)

“No, that’s wrong!”

Again, Makoto ended all conversation.

“Leon, that can’t be right.”

“Why not?”

“Because the incinerator was on all night, and it was right next to Chihiro’s body. If you wanted to hide evidence, it would be crazy not to use it.”

“Well, maybe the killer wanted to make it look like they didn’t get the knife from the kitchen!” Leon pressed. “Maybe they went to the kitchen at a suspicious time to get a knife or whatever, then realized that if it was missing, everyone would ask questions.”

“No,” Makoto shook his head. “Because Kyoko was the last person in the kitchen yesterday night, and she didn’t mention anything missing!”

“That’s right,” Kyoko smiled. “I’m confident that the kitchen was as it should have been last night.”

“H—ow do you know that?” Toko asked. “I—it sounds like you just w—went in there to get some food!”

“After the incident with Sayaka and the knife, I’ve inspected the kitchen every time I’ve gone back in, just to be safe.”

“Haha!” Hiro pounded his desk. “But if you were the last person in the kitchen, then you could just be lying right now, and you could be the killer!”

“No,” Makoto said. He pointed directly at Hiro. “Because last night at 9:30, Mukuro, Byakuya, Kyoko, and I were all in the cafeteria together! If Chihiro was killed by someone inside of the gate with her, then none of us are suspects.”

Hiro sighed.

“Oh… My bad.”

Makoto seemed almost invincible; no one could stand up to him. Both girls to his side gleefully watched him in action.

“But that still leaves the question of what the weapon was,” Celeste said. “Could it have been a tool from one of the toolkits?”

“That’s a great question,” Makoto said. “But… none of us checked the toolkits.”

“Bear!” Byakuya turned to Monokuma. “If you want a fair trial, we’ll need to be able to check those toolkits.”

Monokuma growled.

“We’re not interrupting the trial for that!”

“But—”

“Argh! Look, I’ll confirm for you all that no toolkits were involved in this case at any point, okay? In fact, none of the toolkits or sewing kits have even been opened.”

Byakuya grinned.

“That solves that, then.”

“Then we’re back to square one,” Leon grunted. “It must’ve been something from the nurse’s office, or a classroom, or something.”

“I don’t understand,” Hina pursed her lips. “I can imagine killing Chihiro with some kind of weird weapon, but why? If you already have access to knives and hammers and stuff, and you can just throw them into the incinerator when you’re done, why bother with a special weapon?”

“You wouldn’t,” Byakuya said. “If the murder was premeditated. What if the killer just used something they found at the scene?”

“I cannot accept that,” Sakura said. “To escape from a locked room obviously requires forethought. The murder must be premeditated.”

“Byakuya may be right,” Celeste said, twisting a piece of her hair. “It could have been a crime of opportunity!”

(Present Your Argument)

“Miss Ogami is certainly correct!” Hifumi pointed to the ceiling. “Miss Fujisaki always locked the gate, so the killer knew how to defeat that defense!”

“I dunno, man,” Hiro scratched his head. “You’re assuming a lot. What if Chihiro just forgot that one time?”

“The fact is that the gate was locked afterward,” Taka said. “So, if the killer struck directly, then he knew how to lock the gate back up and return the key to her body!”

“I—If you planned in advance how to bypass the l—lock, then you’d bring a weapon with you instead of r—elying on finding one at the scene.” Toko said.

“We do not know if the killer planned things out, though.” Celestia said. “In that case, you’d use any weapon you found at the scene.”

“Could you really just figure out how to escape an unescapable room on the fly…?” Hina mused.

“Perhaps the killer simply punched her!” Taka suggested.

Mukuro smiled. Her classmates spat out theory after theory, painfully unaware of how Makoto carefully studied each of them, waiting for the right one to rip to shreds. Even though Chihiro was dead, Mukuro actually found this to be fun. She couldn’t resist the temptation – she had to bait Makoto just watch him destroy her.

“I’ve got it!” she cried out, knowing she was wrong. “The weapon is so tiny that it was just left inside of her head!”

(Break)

“No, that’s wrong!”

Mukuro smiled widely when Makoto faced her. She knew what was coming: he was going to say that Kyoko checked the wound, so a tiny weapon was impossible.

“The incinerator,” he said. “It’s got that bloodstain on it. If you pierced Chihiro's head with a small weapon and left it inside, there’s no way that blood would get up there.”

“That makes sense!” Hifumi agreed.

“But it’s more than that… The incinerator’s been bothering me for a while now.” Makoto sighed. “Why is there a bloodstain on it?”

Leon shrugged.

“Dude, it’s ‘cause the killer hit Chihiro, and then weapon kept moving and hit the corner.”

“No, that’s not possible. Chihiro’s head was pierced by something, remember? The weapon couldn’t have moved horizontally except into or out of her head.”

Celeste tapped a painted nail on her podium.

“Perhaps the killer struck her, then as she staggered about, struck again, and missed, staining the incinerator with blood from the first attack?”

Makoto closed his eyes and thought for a moment.

“No,” he said. “The Monokuma File said Chihiro died instantly. There’d be no need for a second attack.”

“W—ell, what about this?” Toko gnawed at her thumb. “L—let’s say the killer pulled the weapon out of her head, and in that motion, it just h—happened to hit the incinerator.”

Makoto shook his head.

“In order for that to happen, you’d have to stand up against the side of the machine, stab her in the head, and pull the weapon out while she’s still standing. That’s probably not even possible, but if you somehow did do that, and the weapon was covered in enough blood to leave that mark on the incinerator, then it would have sprayed blood onto the wall and the pipes that were inches away. But there wasn’t any blood on the wall.”

“Well, then maybe the killer cleaned it up to disguise how she died!” Leon said.

“And leave the blood on the incinerator?” Makoto asked. He shook his head. “No, there’s only one way you could kill Chihiro in one attack and leave the bloodstain on the incinerator.”

Byakuya’s poker face failed him for a moment. He sucked in his lips, then grinned.

“Not bad, Naegi.” he said.

“What’s not bad?” Hiro demanded.

Makoto struck his palm with a fist.

“The murder weapon was the incinerator itself! Someone grabbed Chihiro’s head and smashed it into the machine’s corner, then let her fall to the ground.”

Kyoko nodded.

“That also explains why she’s laying face-up instead of face-down, when a blow to the head would normally result in the opposite.”

“Chihiro was very small,” Sakura growled. “Any of us could have overpowered her easily…”

Mukuro beamed with pride. Makoto had demolished her argument, but in a completely different way than she expected. His skill was so great that she couldn’t even predict him at all.  But even better…

I helped solve the case!

She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at no one in particular. But she spied Sayaka watching her, jealous and angry. It surprised Mukuro to realize that that didn’t make herself feel any better.

“I guess this means it can’t have been a trap set in advance,” Hiro shrugged. “If you had to be there yourself…”

“It also explains why there’s no evidence of a trap,” Celeste mused.

“Then that leaves the question of how the killer escaped while the key was still in Chihiro’s pocket,” Taka said. “The main question of the trial…”

“Let’s leave that for now,” Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “Instead, let’s just assume the killer somehow could enter and exit the gate at will, without regard for the key, and determine who even could have done this.”

Mukuro jumped in.

“Like Makoto said earlier, Kyoko, Byakuya, him, and I were in the cafeteria at 9:30, so we’re all clear.”

“Um… Could I say something?”

Everyone turned to Sayaka, a little shocked. Those were the first words she’d spoken since the elevator. She was covered in sweat from the effort of even speaking, but she forced herself to go on.

“It can’t be Hina or me. She took me to my room to change.”

“Was she with you the entire time?” Byakuya asked.

“No,” Hina admitted. “But I was in the hallway the whole time. I stood outside of Sayaka’s room around 9:15 to let her change. At the same time, I saw Leon go back into his room. He didn’t come out again, at least not before 9:30.”

“That was the last time I saw Chihiro!” he said, wiping his brow of sweat.

“So, that means Leon and Sayaka can’t have done it,” Byakuya agreed. “But if you were alone in the hallway, you could still be the killer, Ashina!”

“Ulp!” She shook. “But—but Sakura—”

“Was in the cafeteria, getting water, for a minute or two.” Byakuya said. “Both of you are still suspects. But… That’s still too many people unaccounted for… Celeste, Hifumi, Asahina, Sakura, Hiro, Taka, and Toko.”

“S—surely you don’t th—think I would do it, Byakuya?” Toko smiled nervously. “Y—you know me…”

He didn’t even look at her.

“Do any of you have alibis?”

No one responded, except to mutter that they’d already gone to bed by then.

“Um…” Sayaka raised a hand. “Can I ask a weird question?”

“If you must.” Byakuya allowed.

“I went over the evidence with Makoto before the trial, and… why’s Taka’s logbook at the scene of the crime?”

“Excellent point!” Hifumi pointed to the ceiling. “Perhaps that itself is a clue!”

“Well, I just meant—”

“A clue that proves Ishimaru did it! Mister Ishimaru!” he roared. “You killed her!”

“What?” Taka was more confused than frightened at the accusation. “What are you basing that on?”

“The logbook, of course! We all saw you throw it out, but it was on the floor instead of in the trash or the fire. That means someone pulled it out of the trash to use in the murder. But if it wasn’t used as a weapon, then it was left as a special note of vengeance!”

(Present Your Argument)

“That’s completely insane!” Taka pulled his hands into fists.

“I dunno about this, Hifumi…” Hina scratched her head. “Isn’t the whole point of murder to not leave evidence pointing to yourself?”

“I would never take anything out of the trash,” Taka yelled. “It’s unsanitary!”

“But the fact remains that the logbook was there!” Hifumi’s eyes twinkled. “Which means someone placed it there!”

“That’s d—dumb,” Toko said. “You’re d—dumb. Everyone is dumb, except B—Byakuya and me.” Her lips curled into that weird, naughty smile. “M—maybe even just B—Byakuya, if he says so…”

“Wait a minute, I got it! There was another black logbook!” Hiro cried.

“This doesn’t even make sense!” Taka protested. “If I wanted revenge for my logbook, I would target Toko, not Chihiro!”

“Maybe you were angry that Chihiro would so recklessly burn the logbook you threw out?!” Hifumi pressed on. “The trash room floor was completely clean of anything except your logbook and Chihiro’s blood!”

(Break)

“No, that’s wrong!”

Before Makoto could even say anything else, Byakuya interrupted.

“Yamada, shut up.”

“Whaaaaaaaat?!”

“First of all, that entire theory is idiotic. Second, there was something else on the floor: the prayer beads.”

Makoto looked dejected. Mukuro reached over to pat him on the back, but Sayaka beat her to the bunch. She smiled over his shoulders at her, smug and self-satisfied. Again, to Mukuro’s surprise, it didn’t make her feel any worse.

“Those are also suspicious!” Hifumi said. “Hagakure! Why were they there?”

Hiro shrugged.

“I dunno.”

“… what?”

“I threw ‘em out earlier that day. Taka was there.”

“Oh, yeah! Yes, Hiro broke his string of prayer beads while we were in the cafeteria, and he threw them out.”

“That doesn’t explain why Chihiro was holding them when she died, though.” Leon said.

“Maybe she was crying out to a god for help?” Hiro shrugged. “She was getting attacked, after all.”

“You’re distracting from the logbook!” Hifumi moaned. “Ishimaru, what was your argument with Miss Fukawa even about, when she destroyed your book?”

“What?!” Toko trembled. “I—it wasn’t about anything!”

“She was offended that I was keeping notes of our goings-on,” Taka said, crossing his arms. “I still—”

“No!” Toko cried.

“… I still don’t understand why she was so upset,” Taka continued. “I would have dropped it, but if it’s important for the trial, then all I did was ask if her leg was alright.”

“… What?” Mukuro asked.

“Her leg. Surely you noticed she kept scratching at it for the first day of class?”

“Oh yeah!” Hina looked over to her. “I forgot all about that.”

Toko groaned.

“I… I was angry! Th—the hall monitor just keeps asking annoying q—questions! S—sometimes you just want to be left alone!”

Mukuro frowned. She’d also forgotten about Toko’s leg.

“Then is Toko the killer…?” Hina poked her cheek with her tongue. “She’s the only other person who would take a special interest in the logbook.”

“W—what?! No!” Toko pointed at Hina, shaking. “I just wanted to n—not have every day of m—my life get written down by Taka! N—no wonder your boobs are so big, th—they’re taking up mass that would’ve gone to your b—brain!”

“Hey!” Hina huffed.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Byakuya shook his head. “It’s a complete waste of time.”

“I… think it might not be, actually.” Makoto said. Even he sounded surprised.

“This had better be good, Naegi.”

“I was just thinking… When Mukuro and I helped Chihiro dump the trash a while ago, an apple fell out of the can and hit the floor. It could just be that the prayer beads fell out of the can, and Chihiro went to pick them up.”

“I understand,” Sakura said. “That is when the killer struck: while she was distracted.”

“That explains the beads,” Celeste twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “But it does nothing to explain the logbook. That happened two days ago, yes?”

“Well, that was Taka’s black logbook. It’s the same color as the floor,” Mukuro said. “It could have also dropped, then just none of us noticed it.”

Someone gasped horribly. All conversation silenced, and the room turned to Kyoko. Something shattered her composed demeanor: her eyes were wide and her face was pale. She seemed not to breathe. It was if an entirely different person inhabited her body. The sight of her looking so out-of-character sent a chill down Mukuro’s spine.

This isn’t Kyoko, she thought. Kyoko isn’t even capable of looking like this.

“Kirigiri,” Byakuya said. “It looks like you figured something out. Do you want to share it with the rest of the class?”

She didn’t respond to him in any way, not even to look over. Seconds passed without a word, and then, quivering, she pulled a hand down to her podium. She still said nothing.

“Kirigiri!” Byakuya repeated. “Are you going to tell us what you know?”

She looked away from the circle of podiums. Her face was hidden, but she was still obviously disturbed.

Mukuro looked over to Monokuma. He was also facing her. His expression never changed, but she knew, somehow, that he was smiling at the knowledge she’d just discovered.

“It seems she refuses to answer,” Celeste said. “How… strange a decision?”

“Kyoko…” Makoto said. “Whatever you know, you can tell us. We all trust you.”

She didn’t reply.

“F—forget her,” Toko said. “I’m… still wondering about how the k—killer relocked the gate.”

Mukuro and Makoto kept watching Kyoko for a little while. Mukuro could tell that he was as disturbed as she was by Kyoko’s strange behavior. When they turned back to the trial, they realized the debate had already begun.

“… way to resolve this, is there not?” Celeste asked. “No one has ever questioned whether the lock can simply be picked. If that’s the case, the killer could have easily gotten in and out without the key.”

“That’s a good question,” Byakuya admitted. “Bear!”

“Yesssss?” Monokuma said.

“I remember you claiming at one point that the locks on our dorms are unpickable.”

“That’s right! No one in the world can—”

“Does the trash room have a similarly unpickable lock?” he interrupted.

Monokuma froze for some time, contemplating.

“You know,” he said slowly. “I don’t think I’ll tell you that.”

“You have to,” Byakuya stared him down. “You provided that information about our dorm rooms, which means no potential killer will ever bother trying to enter a bedroom without permission. Thanks to Sayaka, that’s already influenced our actions, so in order to run a fair killing game, you’ll either have to tell us about all of the locks or none of the locks,” He pointed directly at him. “And you already made that decision!”

Monokuma froze again. After a while, he threw up his hands.

“Argh, fine!” he growled in annoyance. “None of the locks in the school can be picked, they can only be broken.”

Byakuya grinned smugly.

“As I thought.”

“Are we sure the lock even worked after the murder?” Taka asked. “What if the killer escaped the room by breaking it, but left it looking like it still worked?”

“That’s not possible,” Mukuro said. “Kyoko examined the lock before Monokuma opened it, and she never said anything about it being broken. Plus, Monokuma’s key worked when she asked him to open it.”

“Then we’ll need another method to explain how the killer locked the gate behind themself while the key was still with Chihiro’s body.” Taka said. “Any ideas?”

(Present Your Argument)

“Maybe the killer just threw the key back to Chihiro after locking the gate?” Hiro asked.

“No, Hiro,” Hina sighed. “The key was in Chihiro’s pocket. Even I know you can’t throw a key into a pocket.”

A little bit of energy reinvigorated Sayaka. For the first time, she joined the debate.

“What if we reuse that string idea from earlier?” she asked. “You know, maybe the killer ran a string from the gate to her pocket, then slid the key back after using it?”

“Maybe Monokuma only made two keys, but the killer made a copy of Chihiro’s?” Leon asked.

“I just don’t know…” Hina groaned.

(Break)

“No, that’s wrong!” Makoto yelled. “Sayaka, the pocket we found the key in was on Chihiro’s blouse, which was underneath her jacket. You’d never get the key to slide in under a jacket like that.”

Byakuya scowled. He tapped a foot on the floor as he thought.

“We can assume that the killer is reasonably clever,” he said, with the greatest reluctance Mukuro could imagine. “Definitely the cleverest of any of you…”

“W—well, there is s—someone who knows something!” Toko stuttered.

Everyone looked over to Kyoko again. She still hadn’t turned back to them.

“Kyoko,” Makoto said gently. “Please, tell us what you know.”

She turned to him, very slightly. There was an unreadable emotion in her eyes.

What the hell does she know? Mukuro wondered.

“Kyoko,” Makoto continued. “I know that you couldn’t have done it. I… don’t want to believe anyone here could have, but… Well, you said yourself that the stakes are all of our lives. You said that if you knew who the murderer was, you’d expose them right away.”

Kyoko turned away again. Almost too softly to hear, she whispered a single word: “Trap.”

“Trap?” Makoto repeated.

“I see!” Byakuya sighed. “We were on the wrong track. I thought that might be the case.”

“Oh, you did not!” Hina said angrily.

Byakuya ignored her.

“If there’s no way the key could be returned to Chihiro’s pocket, then we have to reconsider the possibility of a trap. Kirigiri has clearly figured out who set the trap, and has decided to play with us for some reason. And if there’s a trap, then none of our alibis for the time of death matter anymore.”

“But why would Kyoko not help us?” Leon asked. “Doesn’t make any sense…”

“Because the killer is someone she’s close to,” Byakuya scoffed. “It’s probably Naegi!”

Makoto jumped back.

“W—what?”

“That’s pretty weak reasoning, Byakuya.” Sayaka said. She’d kept her cool better than Makoto or Mukuro had.

“Perhaps we should focus on the trap itself.” Taka stroked his chin.

“I don’t know what there’s even to say,” Mukuro shrugged. “When we looked at the murder scene, we found no evidence of it.”

“Never mind all that for now,” Byakuya said. “A better question is ‘who can even set a trap?’ We know that it must have been set next to the incinerator, because that’s where Chihiro died. And the room is normally locked, which means most of us couldn’t have accessed it. Which means… only someone who’s helped her throw out trash could have set it!”

“Then… Who’s helped her dispose of the garbage?” Celeste asked.

Mukuro said nothing, but Makoto didn’t hesitate.

“Mukuro and I did.”

“Hina and I also assisted Chihiro once.” Sakura said.

“Has anyone else ever helped her?” Byakuya asked.

“Allow me!” Taka cried. “Such is the power… of logbooks!”

He pulled out a lime green logbook from his uniform, leafed through it for a moment, and turned.

“Leon!”

“Ack! Man, you’re such a tattletale.”

“The Ultimate Tattletale!” Taka said proudly. “Let’s see… Day 1: Chihiro forgot to do the garbage. Day 2: Chihiro does it herself. Day 3: Sakura and Hina help. Day 4: Leon helps. Day 5: Makoto and Mukuro help. Day 6: Chihiro does it by herself… and dies.” He stowed the logbook back into his uniform. “We have only five suspects: Makoto, Mukuro, Sakura, Hina, and Leon!”

A moment passed. One by one, everyone turned to one of the five people listed. Most eyes were on Leon, but one set in particular honed in on Mukuro.

“Ikusaba!” Byakuya pointed at her. “It was you.”

Chapter Text

Like the others before her, Mukuro jumped back at the open accusation.

“Wh—what do you mean?! I was in the cafeteria…”

Byakuya crossed his arms.

“Alibis don’t matter anymore, not if a trap was set in advance. In fact, being one of the few people who was in a public place at the time of death is even more suspicious!”

“But, like, you were in the cafeteria, too…” Hiro muttered.

Byakuya spared a brief condescending glance at his classmate, then dismissed him entirely.

“There’s a reason why I was reluctant to consider the possibility of traps,” he said. “It’s simple: there’s no evidence of one, which implies the killer would have to be extremely proficient. No one else here is likely to be an expert trapper, but you… You say you don’t have any memories, but we don’t actually know that for sure, do we? We’ve just taken your word for it.”

“Byakuya,” Hina cried. “That’s nuts! You have no evidence of that!”

“Don’t I? She’s part of Fenrir, a renowned mercenary company. That tattoo proves she’s already a killer. She could very easily be the Ultimate Trapper or the Ultimate Assassin; both of those are professions useful in war.”

“Y—yeah!” Toko agreed. “What else could she be? The Ultimate Soldier? Not likely!”

Sakura closed one eye and squinted at her.

“You must have some kind of reasoning for dismissing that possibility, Toko.”

“I d—do!” the Ultimate Writing Prodigy stammered. Despite this, it was obvious she making up her reasoning on the fly. “Look at her! It w—was hard to tell before, when she was covered in bruises on the first day, but now that she’s h—healed, you can tell she doesn’t have a single scar on her body.” She pointed wildly at Sakura. “You’re the best martial artist in the world and you’re covered in scars! So, tell me, how l—likely is it that she could be a fighter and never taken damage before?! Being an assassin or s—something just… makes more sense!”

Mukuro pulled her tattooed hand over her chest. She had never given any thought to why she had no scars – after all, why would she? But Toko’s reasoning did make some sense…

The Ultimate Assassin… Would she be a pale, black-haired teenager sullenly hiding in her room most of the time, only to get lured out by a boy…?

Before Sakura could respond, Makoto intervened.

“I think you’re wrong, Byakuya.” he said.

“Oh?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow. “I certainly hope you have a way to prove that.”

“Maybe it’s not proof, exactly, but…” Makoto pointed to Leon, then Sayaka. “If Mukuro was going to murder someone, wouldn’t it have made more sense to do it when Sayaka and Leon screwed up in my room? But the thought didn’t even occur to her. She stopped the murder and got us all up without any hesitation. Why would she give up the best opportunity anyone could ever ask for, then commit a different murder later on that could more easily get her caught?”

Mukuro turned away and covered her mouth, burning with shame at Makoto’s words and confidence in her. She hated that Mukuro of a few days past who’d almost struck down Leon and Sayaka.

“It’s—it’s true!” Sayaka backed him up. “Mukuro… She saved me that night, even though she didn’t have to. In fact, she saved everyone! And we all saw how injured she was that first day. She’s… She’s never lied to anyone.”

Is she… helping me?

Mukuro looked over to her. The idol smiled at her, then gave a thumbs up. Sayaka’s emotions had changed so rapidly that it was impossible to keep up with them, but Mukuro managed a weak smile in an attempt to accept the gesture.

“I… didn’t treat you that well, Mukuro,” Sayaka admitted. “But I know you didn’t do this.”

Makoto’s belief in her had been bad enough, but Sayaka’s just made Mukuro even more ashamed. An image of that cowering, screaming blue-haired girl in the corner passed through Mukuro’s mind, and her face turned red. Sayaka mistook this for blushing at their new friendship, though, and kept on smiling. Mukuro turned away, regretful of what she’d thought about that night, and how close she’d come to becoming the murderer the two of them were certain she could never be.

“What Makoto says makes sense,” Taka said. “Although, I have something to add to it! Consider the following: Mukuro would have been in Makoto’s and Chihiro’s eyesight the entire time in the trash room. Setting up a trap without one of them noticing would have to be incredibly difficult.”

“That same logic applies to Hina and myself,” Sakura said. “Although, it should be noted that I have absolute trust in her regardless of any lack of evidence.”

Celeste’s red eyes shone as she leaned over her podium. A strange, spine-chilling aura surrounded her as she challenged the martial artist.

“Are you really this naïve?” she asked. “How can you have such trust when you know one of us is a murderer? Not only that… but we know Mukuro in particular was a killer even before any of us met Monokuma, or else she wouldn’t have that tattoo.”

Mukuro rubbed her hand again.

The tattoo…

The one link to her past, and it caused her nothing but trouble.

“Mukuro’s Ultimate talent doesn’t matter here!” Makoto pointed straight at Byakuya. “No matter what you think of her, and no matter what your trapmaking skills might be, there’s no way anyone could set up a trap in an open space with three people in the room!”

In his typical fashion, Byakuya crossed his arms and let everyone’s anger and suspicion wash over him, like it didn’t even matter at all.

“Okay,” he allowed. “Then let’s talk about Leon again!”

“Ah, dude, again?!” Leon screeched.

(Present Your Argument)

“You set up a trap in the trash room when Chihiro wasn’t looking,” Byakuya said. “Then you waited for someone to trigger it.”

“Dude, I didn’t do anything!” Leon fired back. His skin was as red as his hair.

“It is also nearly impossible to believe that Makoto, Mukuro, Asahina, or Sakura could have set up a trap with two other people in the room.” Taka agreed.

“I don’t know, maybe they could have!” Leon threw his hands in the air.

“Heheh…” Toko snickered evilly. “L—let’s not f—forget how you almost killed two people with a sword!”

“I already explained that!”

“Yeah!” Hiro laughed. “Plus, since you helped her with the trash, you totally would’ve known where Chihiro would stand to trigger your trap!”

(Break)

“No, that’s wrong!”

Everyone looked to Makoto. Although he’d shouted the words with conviction, he looked hesitant and disturbed. He wasn’t facing anyone as he spoke.

“That… that can’t be right, Hiro…”

“What? Why not?”

“Because…” He kept speaking, but he was clearly as confused anyone else. “Because Chihiro only stood in that spot… because she was grabbing the prayer beads that fell…”

The room fell silent. Then—

Byakuya gasped in exactly the same way as Kyoko. He wasn’t as horrified as her, but he was just as shocked. His eyes flit between Makoto and Mukuro, blazing with… frustration? Anger? Disappointment? Mukuro couldn’t quite tell.

“Byakuya?” Makoto asked. “Do you know something?”

Byakuya quickly regained his footing, but he was breathing heavily. He looked at Makoto like he might have looked at a UFO or a portal to another dimension. He tried to speak, but the only thing he managed to say was: “That’s… impossible…”

“Again?!” Taka groaned. “Is there some epic secret to this murder that silences all who discover it?!”

“Yes!” Monokuma shrilled. His legs kicked up and down wildly, like a little child. That was the most terrifying moment of them all. Mukuro’s heart sank, and she knew one thing for certain:

Whoever the killer is, I won’t like it.

Sayaka had the same feeling. She reached over and gripped Makoto’s hand. Her own fingers were covered in sweat.

“Fine,” Makoto said. “Let’s keep solving this. We’re almost there, anyway. I can feel it.”

“So what Makoto is saying,” Hina said. “Is that if the beads fell by accident, they couldn’t be used to lure Chihiro in a trap?”

“We don’t know they fell by accident,” Sakura said. “We just assumed that.”

“No,” Makoto said. He closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and opened them. “Hiro only threw them out earlier that day. No one else could have gotten into the trash room to set them there, so unless Chihiro planted them there on purpose herself, they had to have fallen out of the trashcan by accident.”

“They could’ve been thrown through the gate!” Hina said.

“No…” Makoto said. “If you’re setting a trap, the location where the victim is standing is going to be the most important thing, right? You couldn’t reliably throw the beads into that exact position.”

“He could!” Hifumi shouted, and pointed at Leon.

“C’mon,” Leon groaned. “Why does everyone hate me?!”

“No,” Makoto said. “It wasn’t thrown. Remember how the string was broken? If it landed hard like that, after being thrown a long distance, the beads would have exploded everywhere in all directions.”

“Perhaps the killer used the pole idea that Byakuya had, but in reverse?” Sakura suggested. “You could place the beads on the floor inside of the gate, then push them forward until they’ve reached the proper placement.”

Makoto shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s possible. There’s no way you could push it that distance with just a pole without some of the beads rolling off in other directions. We didn’t find any extra beads on the floor. So, they must’ve been dropped by accident!”

“And yet… Chihiro triggered the trap, yes?” Celeste tapped a finger against her podium. “She dropped the beads by mistake, which means they couldn’t have been part of the killer’s plan… But they were also the most important element in setting up the trap.”

“Yeah, um, sorry if this is a stupid question, but let me ask a question here,” Hina leaned over. “What was this trap, exactly? I don’t really understand.”

Makoto looked down, thinking.

“It was something that would cause Chihiro to fall backward, hitting her head on the corner of the incinerator.”

Sayaka swallowed, hard.

“But it’s also something that disappears once it’s triggered, leaving no evidence behind? Am I getting that right?”

“Yeah…” Makoto looked up to Kyoko and Byakuya. Neither spoke. “I don’t… understand…”

“You can’t build a trap that just ‘disappears!’” Taka said. “There must have been something else left behind at the scene.”

Mukuro shook her head and responded.

“There was nothing else at the scene of the murder except the trash, the prayer beads, and the logbook.”

At the last word, Makoto’s head sprung up.

“No…” he whispered.

Monokuma cackled hysterically.

“Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes! I thought there was bearly any chance you’d figure it out before the vote, but I’m so happy to be wrong!”

Makoto turned away, just as Kyoko and Byakuya had. But unlike them…

“I… figured it out.” he said. His voice was low and sullen.

“What the hell happened, man?!” Leon demanded. “Tell us!”

“Chihiro… she just slipped.”

Mukuro’s heart pounded hard against her chest. She wanted him to stop talking, but Makoto kept right on.

“She dropped the beads, went to pick them up, and slipped… on the only thing there was to slip on…”

“The logbook.” Mukuro said, almost too softly to hear. “It was the same color as the floor, so she didn’t see it…”

“And fell backward… and hit her head…” Makoto continued. “That’s why only the bottom of the logbook has blood on it. It never left the floor, Chihiro’s headwound just bled out and engulfed it over time.”

No one said anything. And then…

“Hold it,” Hiro said. “I thought we said that this was some kinda super sophisticated trap. How do you plan something like that?”

“You don’t.” Byakuya finally broke his silence. He sounded disappointed. “It could only have been… impossibly bad luck.”

“What?!” Hina screamed. “Then it’s not murder!”

“Allow me to repeat myself!” laughed Monokuma. “Any death except disease and old age counts as murder.”

“That’s insane!” Taka boomed. “No one reasonable would ever claim that’s murder!”

“You kids today and your ‘justifiable manslaughter’ and your ‘acts of God!’ Take it up with your local congressman if you want the law changed!”

“Woah, we can do that?!” Hiro asked, suddenly excited. “Who do we complain to?”

“Me!” Monokuma laughed. “And I’m in office for four more years, so good luck persuading me! Now, if you don’t tell me who the Blackened is, the rest of you will be executed in their place!”

“And the killer will graduate… by accident?” Byakuya asked. He sounded almost angry.

“Yes! It’s so delightfully despairful, I almost can’t take it!”

Makoto looked down to his podium. He was caked in sweat.

Sayaka stood next to him. Her hands were over her lips, and there was no blood in her face. The rest of the class was a flurry of anger, disbelief, confusion, panic, and outright denial.

“Then… we need to determine who dropped the book.” Byakuya said, joylessly.

“You sound a lot less excited than before.” Leon said.

“I am.” Byakuya admitted. “Overcoming challenges with intelligence is one thing, but random luck? The game is suddenly less amusing.” He shook his head. “The book was put in the trashcan the day Naegi and Ikusaba helped with the garbage, so…”

“It was o—one of the three of them.” Toko said. Even she sounded sympathetic.

“It’s unlikely either Makoto or Mukuro remember…” Celeste cooed.

All throughout this exchange, Makoto had been silent. His legs were shaky, and his expression was dark. Mukuro was pretty sure he could only keep standing by holding onto the podium.

“Makoto…” she whispered. “Are you alright?”

He closed his eyes. He tried to speak, but his voice squeaked, then trailed off.

He knows something, Mukuro thought. Something that makes him unable to keep fighting, even though he knows he has to for everyone’s sake.

Mukuro knew it in her heart, too. She didn’t have any evidence, but she knew there was only one thing that would leave Makoto unable to fight for everyone’s survival.

“Mister Naegi!” Hifumi screeched. “I believe you can help us figure out who dropped that logbook!”

Makoto didn’t open his eyes.

“It seems he can’t speak,” Byakuya said. He sighed. “It’s hard to blame him, though. Whatever he says will get either Ikusaba or himself executed.”

Mukuro flinched when he voiced what everyone was thinking.

“Nuh-uh!” Hina shook her head vigorously. “Nuh-uh, no way, no how! Chihiro could’ve dropped the book herself! If that happened, Monokuma can’t kill anyone!”

“We must know the details of what happened in the trash room the day of Toko’s and Taka’s fight,” Sakura said. She was one of the few who could keep her voice steady. “If Makoto will not speak, then the unhappy task falls to Mukuro.”

“What?!” Mukuro jumped back. “Me?!”

“Yeah!” Leon stared at her. “Do you know who dropped the book?”

Mukuro shook her head.

“No… There isn’t really anything to tell. Makoto and I helped Chihiro with the trash, then we just left her.”

“Are you sure?” Byakuya pressed. “Maybe no one set out to commit murder, but withholding information here isn’t just incompetence. It would be murder, itself.”

“Y—yeah!” Toko agreed. “You could get Byakuya and me killed! … oh, and everyone else, too.”

“Look!” Mukuro crossed her arms and tried to look confident than she really was. “I don’t know! I went to the trash room to help Chihiro throw stuff out. If I’d seen the book drop, I would have picked it up and tossed it into the fire. Since I didn’t pick it up, I must not have seen it drop, which means I couldn’t have seen who dropped it!”

“Ugh!” Leon moaned.

“That same logic will apply to Makoto as well…” Sakura nodded.

“Very well, then,” Celeste toyed with a strand of hair. “Let us speculate upon how to determine who dropped the book.”

(Present Your Argument)

“Are you kidding?!” Hiro grabbed his head. “There’s no way to know who picked up a random trashcan!”

“M—maybe you can ch—check your crystal ball…” Toko snarked.

“…” Kyoko closed her eyes. She was either lost in thought or unwilling to condemn someone so unjustly.

“I remember that the trashcan was mostly full of food…” Taka murmured. “Can we use that information somehow?”

“…” Byakuya carefully studied both Makoto and Mukuro.

“Is it important that the trashcan was from the cafeteria?” Sakura asked.

“…” Sayaka bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Her eyes never left Mukuro.

“What about how the trashcans were made of plastic?” Hifumi asked. “Maybe that’s useful!”

“This is insane!” Hina cried. “No one is really responsible. Chihiro could have dropped the book, so let’s just vote for her. That way, Monokuma can’t punish anyone!”

(Break)

Mukuro sucked in her lips. What she’d just heard was definitely false… But if she voiced her reasoning for why, it would kill someone for certain. Herself or Makoto, she didn’t know, but…

Doing nothing will get almost everyone killed, she thought. If I went free because of that… I’d hate myself forever.

Even the thought of that hurt. Mukuro could never live with that kind of shame. But to voice what she knew was as good as killing someone herself.

Everything within Mukuro was chaos. Her throat tightened, sweat poured down her face, and blood rushed through her veins so fast and so hard that it practically overwhelmed everything else in the trial. But most of all, Mukuro felt the infinite weight of Kyoko’s words on her shoulders:

Expose the killer immediately. Not just for the truth, not just because they’re a murderer, but also to save everyone else. It’s your duty.

Had Kyoko honestly meant those words? She was completely silent right now. Mukuro could do that, too. She could wrap herself in that hypocrisy, just like Kyoko…

“That’s not right!”

The words were out of Mukuro’s mouth before she knew what was happening. All eyes turned to her, save Makoto’s. No one was angry, but everyone was surprised, scared, or both. Without thinking, she kept talking.

“What… what you said, Hina…” Mukuro shrank back. The fact that she’d spoken hit her, and she wanted to die.

“What do you mean?” the Ultimate Swimmer asked. “All I said was that three people were in the room doing the garbage, so any of them could’ve dropped the book.”

Mukuro bit her lip. She felt an overwhelming urge to back out of her claim.

“Oh…” she said. She poked each of her forefingers against the other. “Well… Never mi—”

“No!” Byakuya snapped. “You know something.”

“I agree!” Taka barked. “You are definitely hiding something!”

Mukuro turned to Makoto. He was still stone-faced.

“I…” Mukuro could barely stand. “I…”

Someone told her to say it; Mukuro didn’t know whom. She kept watching Makoto.

Please, she prayed. Please, please, please, please let someone tell me I’m wrong…

At last, Mukuro turned back to the class. She swallowed, hard.

“We can’t vote for Chihiro,” she said. “She… didn’t drop the book.”

“No way!” Hina shook her head. “It’s totally impossible to know that for sure!”

Mukuro took another breath. From across the circle, she saw Kyoko watching her, eyes wide and ablaze. Kyoko didn’t seem to hate her like Sayaka; if anything, she seemed impressed.

“The cafeteria trashcans are much larger than the dorm ones,” Mukuro continued. Her voice cracked several times. “Chihiro was too weak to lift them without a lot of effort. She’d have only tried if no one else was around to help her. That’s probably why, the day she died, she’d emptied out the small trashcans already, but didn’t get to the large ones.”

“That’s right!” Leon ran a hand through his hair. “When I helped her, I was the one who did the big cans. Aw, man! I totally forgot about that!”

Hina’s eyes were tearing up.

“No!” she said. “No, no! Stop! I don’t want to hear more, this isn’t fair!”

Mukuro’s legs were jelly. She stood only by holding onto the podium for support. She looked over to Makoto. If he’d given the slightest signal, or even done nothing, she would have happily stopped talking and let the others take over. But instead, he smiled.

That smile crushed any hope Mukuro still had. They both knew who dropped the book.

Beyond him was Sayaka. Her eyes were wide, too, but there was something behind them. It wasn’t just anger, hate, or even fear. It was something else entirely, something worse than all of them combined. And Mukuro knew, without a doubt, that all of it was directed at her.

“It’s… It’s probably me.” Mukuro forced the words out through a sob. “I… I’m the one who—”

“Mukuro.” Makoto whispered. “Don’t.”

She turned away from him. It was impossible to face him. For a moment, she caught Kyoko’s eyes again. The other girl was staring at her. Her face was also a mixture of emotions.

“Makoto,” Mukuro gasped out at last. She was crying. “I’m so sorry, I wish it was me, I really do, but… it… it had to be you who dropped the logbook.”

“No!” Sayaka shrieked. Her eyes were on fire, her voice was full of wrath, and her skin was red instead of white. Within her was something halfway between hysteria and despair. “You’re lying!”

She screamed so forcefully that even the other students were taken aback. She slammed her fists into the podium in front of her, then grabbed its edges and twisted. The wood underneath her nails cracked.

“You’re trying to save your own skin!” she hissed. Tears of hate and guilt streamed over her face. “I won’t let you! I won’t let you! I won’t let you hurt him!”

(Bullet Time Battle)

“Noooo!”

“I hate you!”

“He’d never hurt anyone!”

“It’s not his fault!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“You’re betraying him!”

“You’re wrong, you’re just wrong!”

“You did it!”

“You lying bitch!”

“How could you?!”

(Killshot)

“You can’t possibly prove who touched that trashcan!”

(Break)

“I’m sorry, but I can!”

The words came out of Mukuro’s lips, but there was no confidence or energy behind them. She was barely holding herself together.

“You lying whore!” Sayaka threw her head from side to side and roared. “It’s all an illusion to save your own skin!”

“Sayaka—” Makoto started.

“No!” She pounded the podium again. “Whatever you say, it’s only because she’s tricked you somehow!”

“I couldn’t have lifted the trashcan to the fire.” Mukuro breathed. Her eyes unfocused. The world was just a blur of shapeless colors and muffled noises. “For the past few days, I’ve felt a pain in my back when I lift my arms too high.”

A thousand miles away, someone cried out the word “Liar!” It might have been Sayaka.

“I…”

Something hot caught in Mukuro’s throat. She couldn’t continue.

A hand gently touched her shoulder. The world flooded back – first Makoto, and then the rest of the classroom. All of it was still covered in a teary haze.

“Mukuro,” he said. He wasn’t mad at all. “Keep going.”

“But…”

“It’s all on you,” he said. “You’re everyone’s only hope, now.”

It took a long, long time for Mukuro to tear her eyes away from Makoto.

“Hifumi…” she said.

“Whaaaaaaat?!” He threw up his hands and screeched. “Me?!”

“Do you remember when Makoto and I passed you in the dorm area with Chihiro and the trash?”

“Oh, yes, I do. But you were all holding trashcans and trash bags. I don’t know who had the one with the logbook!”

Mukuro paused one last time. She wanted more than anything to stop. But…

“When we passed you in the hallway,” she said. “I tried to lift a trashcan over my shoulder. I stumbled, Makoto caught me, and I had to carry it against my chest.”

“Oh!” Hifumi gasped. “Yes, that’s right! I forgot all about that!”

“So, you see… It doesn’t matter who picked up the trashcan with the logbook from the cafeteria, because I physically couldn’t have lifted a heavy object up to the incinerator, and Chihiro wouldn’t have done so either, at least not while she had help. One of us might’ve brought that can to the trash room, but lifting it up like that was too much, which means…” Her voice gave out, and she barely choked out the conclusion obvious to everyone: “It must have been the third person there.”

“Nooooo!” Sayaka screamed. “That doesn’t prove anything!”

Sayaka raged again against her podium, screaming and weeping and spitting up. She’d verged on suicide for days, catatonic and unable to accept what she’d done, the people she’d betrayed. And now, having been granted a second chance by the very boy she’d hurt the most, it was all stolen away from her by pure dumb luck. Mukuro looked at her with tears and pity, but it wasn’t for Sayaka she felt – it was for herself. She would have given anything to be Sayaka now, to deny everything and scream and wallow in hate and anger and despair.

But it wasn’t to be. Makoto charged her to be strong, so Mukuro ignored the knots in her stomach and forced herself to go on. She stood and pointed straight at Sayaka, but the truth was that a weak breeze would have knocked her over in an instant.

“I’ll lay it all out for you, Sayaka,” she said without emotion. “And when I’m done, there won’t be any room left for doubt.”

(Closing Argument)

“This is what happened!”

“It all started when Taka, proud of his new logbook, went around pestering everyone for what they’d done the previous day.”

“He made the mistake of annoying Toko one too many times, though, and asked her about a sensitive topic: her leg. I don’t know why she was so upset about that, but…”

“In a fit of anger, she grabbed the logbook from him and flung it away.”

“By accident, it landed in Celeste’s breakfast. Celeste left in a huff, but the book itself was ruined, so Taka threw it out.”

“Later that day, Makoto and I were walking past the cafeteria and heard Chihiro struggling with the trash.”

“We volunteered to help her out, thinking we were doing her a kindness… Though, knowing what we know now, I wish we’d just kept on walking.”

“We passed Hifumi in the hallway, and I lifted up the heavy trashcan over my shoulder.”

“Pain surged through my back, and I almost fell over. I had to carry it against my chest, instead.”

“When we got to the trash room, I wasn’t able to help with the heavier cans, including the one I brought myself. Chihiro was also too weak to easily lift the heavy cans, so the job fell to Makoto.”

“But when he wasn’t looking, Taka’s logbook fell out of the can and hit the ground. The noise it made was probably drowned out by the loud pipes, and because the book itself was the same color as the floor, we couldn’t see it.”

“Maybe we would have, if the stained part of the book had faced us, but… In the end, we just left it there.”

“Later, Hiro broke his strand of prayer beads, and had to throw them out.”

“No one volunteered to help Chihiro that time, so she threw everything out by herself. It probably took her twice as long.”

“At some point, she dropped the beads to nearly the same place as the logbook. They probably couldn’t have been heard over the pipes, but since they were brown, she saw them against the black floor. She went over to pick them up, and…”

“Slipped on the book Makoto dropped.”

“She hit the back of her head on the corner of the incinerator, which killed her instantly. Then she fell to the ground, and lay in a pool of her own blood until we found her the next morning.”

“It should have been too unlikely to ever happen, but it did anyway. And the only person who could make something so improbable become reality…”

“Is the Ultimate Lucky Student.”

“It has to be you!”

(Break)

Mukuro felt like she ought to point dramatically at someone, but she barely had the energy left to even say two words:

“Makoto Naegi.”

She fell to her knees, completely drained of whatever power had propelled her this far. She was only a husk of human being; the shell of a girl without the heart or feeling inside.

A heavy, terrible air hung over the courtroom. There was no sound for a long time, save Sayaka’s helpless sobs. A merciless iron hand gripped each of the students’ hearts and squeezed, denying them not only hope, but even the satisfaction of their own survival. Almost no one looked up from the floor. Kyoko was the only one who stared on ahead, but her attention was on Mukuro.

Makoto grabbed Mukuro’s shoulder and smiled at her, resigned to his fate. He didn’t hate or blame her at all, and that hurt all the more. It would have been easier if he’d acted betrayed. Mukuro knew now how Sayaka felt when Makoto so easily forgave her.

“Welp!” Monokuma laughed. “With that, it’s voting time! And make sure to vote, because if you don’t, you’ll be executed, too!”

A lever appeared out of Mukuro’s podium, as well as a 4x4 grid of pictures. Each was of a student, save the last, which was blank. Chihiro’s and Mondo’s pictures were grayed out.

“Who will be chosen as the Blackened?” Monokuma asked. “Will you make the right choice, or the dreadfully wrong one?”

She watched the others slowly, reluctantly vote for Makoto. It was unimaginably cruel of Monokuma to force them to actually condemn him themselves.

Mukuro slowly, emptily wrapped her fingers around the cold lever. For a moment, she wanted to just let her hand fall away and let herself be executed with Makoto. It would have at least been some kind of resistance to this horrible game.

But she pulled the lever anyway. Did she want to live, or did she just not want Makoto to see her die? Even Mukuro herself didn’t know.

She wasn’t the only one who’d had the idea. Sayaka stood at her podium, arms at her side. She said nothing, and only stared at the lever and sniffled.

She plans to die.

“Sayaka!” Makoto said. “Pull it!”

She didn’t reply. He pressed a hand to his heart.

“Sayaka, please. I don’t… I don’t want to die knowing that someone else is dying, too.”

Her face screwed up. She shook her head.

“I won’t,” she whispered. “It’s not right.”

“Sayaka,” Makoto said. “There’s no reason to throw your life away. Please!”

He stared her down for a long while. Finally, she reached up and pulled the lever. That only made her cry even more.

“Heehee!”

As if by magic, a slot machine appeared in front of Monokuma. In its center, three reels spun down and down. Mukuro could just barely make out cartoon images of each student’s face. Some moments passed, and each of the reels slowed and stopped on the same face: Makoto’s.

“Uh-oh!” said Monokuma. “Looks like you got it right on the money! The Blackened in this case, the one who killed Chihiro Fujisaki… was none other than Makoto Naegi! Though, I should mention that it wasn’t a unanimous vote. One of you voted for Mukuro instead! Who could it have possibly been?”

“This is bullshit!” Hina screamed. It was so out of character for her to curse like that, even Monokuma seemed surprised.

“I concur,” Sakura said. “Blaming him for this is an act of madness.”

Other students spoke up in Makoto’s defense, and even Byakuya seemed dissatisfied with the result. He crossed his arms and looked away, clearly frustrated. Sayaka in particular ran up to Monokuma’s wooden throne, then threw herself at his feet.

“Let me take his place!” she cried. “Please! I… I’m the one responsible, if you think about it! Makoto only dropped that book because he walked by the cafeteria with Mukuro, and he only spent time with her because I screwed up that murder with Leon!”

Monokuma rubbed his chin.

“Oh, I didn’t consider that.”

Sayaka’s face lit up. She nodded her head up and down.

“Yes, yes! Please, Monokuma, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, and since your logic makes so much sense… No!”

Monokuma laughed hysterically, then jumped up to the top of the back of his throne. A laptop fell from the ceiling and landed in his hands. He slapped the keyboard furiously for a few seconds, and then a massive television descended from on high.

The screen lit up with a still image of the trash room.

The security camera, Mukuro thought.

Past the gate, Makoto, Mukuro, and Chihiro sat in a circle. A red circle appeared where the wall behind them met the floor. At first, Mukuro saw nothing inside of it. Eventually, just barely, she found the almost-invisible logbook.

Without warning, the image turned into a video. Makoto was the first to move, shaking his head and looking back at Chihiro.

“There are a million ways a computer expert can help us,” he said. “Hack open the vault door at the entrance, contact the police, take control of the Monokuma robots… It’s not your time yet, Chihiro, but this is a school. There’ll be computers somewhere, and once we find one, it’ll be your time to shine.”

“You’ll save everyone,” Mukuro agreed. “You’re the single person most likely to save us all.”

Chihiro’s face brightened. She smiled wide.

“My time… to shine…” she repeated.

The recording stopped, and the screen went dark. Everyone in the room was quiet.

Mukuro thought her heart might have stopped beating. If that had been so, if she’d died right there, she would have been fine with it.

“Ahahahahaha!” Monokuma screeched. “How delightfully cruel of you, Makoto, telling Chihiro she was going to save you all as you set your trap to kill her. I didn’t think you had it in you! Byakuya, maybe, but not you!”

Makoto’s face was very pale, and he was obviously fighting hard to stay calm.

“I will not permit this!” Sakura roared. Her pupils disappeared, and eyes of pure white fire stared straight into Monokuma. “You will not touch Makoto except by passing through me!”

She ran to place herself between Makoto and the throne, then took up a martial arts stance. A fierce aura of black energy simmered in the air around her.

For a long, tense moment, it seemed like she would actually leap at Monokuma and make good on her threat. But then a voice interrupted.

“It’s okay, everyone,” Makoto said. “Don’t.”

“But—” Sakura started.

“No! I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I don’t blame anyone here. Don’t feel bad.”

But it was painfully obvious that everyone felt nothing but bad. Sayaka was crumpled up in a heap at the foot of the throne, and most of the students looked away, completely ashamed. Makoto kept talking.

“Don’t give Monokuma an excuse to hurt you. Please… just survive.”

He put his hands on Sakura’s fists and lowered them. Still obviously upset, she turned away, stricken by shame.

“And,” Makoto continued. “I am… I’m kind of respon—”

“No.” Kyoko said. It was her first word since she’d put together what happened. She looked Makoto dead in the eyes, then thrust her hand at him, pointing at his chest. “You’re not responsible for this at all. Don’t think you are. This is… completely unjust. Remember that.”

“I don’t really get it,” Hiro said. He kicked the ground. “If Makoto’s the Ultimate Lucky Student, then shouldn’t this be impossible?”

Somehow, Makoto managed to smile.

“I was thinking about that…” he said. “But… maybe now, no one will play Monokuma’s game.”

“I do not understand your meaning.” Celeste said.

“Now everyone knows that this game is rigged and insane. The rules to it are too absurd, so there’s no point playing it when the only real enemy is Monokuma himself. If I really am the Ultimate Lucky Student, then maybe me dying now, in this way, is the way that will save the most people. And… I still don’t want to die, but I do want to save people.”

“A—and if you’re not?” Toko stammered. “Wh—what if there’s no such thing as luck?”

Makoto smiled again. This time, he was very sad.

“Then I guess I’m just unlucky.”

“No!”

Sayaka threw herself at Makoto.

“Please, don’t die!” she begged. “I… We… The way I…”

Whatever control Sayaka had over herself disappeared. She started babbling incoherently, shaking against Makoto, until he took her hands in his own.

“Sayaka,” he said. “I don’t blame you for anything. But I need you to do me a favor.”

She nodded, just barely. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear. She burned red, then looked away. She couldn’t stand.

He stood and faced Kyoko.

“I enjoyed your unofficial lesson during the investigation,” he said. “It… it actually helped me a lot, during the trial, trying to figure things out.”

Kyoko turned away to hide her face. Even she couldn’t keep calm after that.

“You can trust Sayaka and Mukuro,” he said. “They’re both good people.”

Last of all, Makoto came to Mukuro. She was crying as hard as Sayaka.

“This isn’t fair,” she wheezed. “I wanted to spend more time with you… I wanted… I wanted to play with that silly charm you gave me! I wanted to explore the school with you! I wanted… I wanted…”

Mukuro fell to her knees. Makoto kneeled down with her, then grabbed her shoulder.

“You saved everyone.”

“I didn’t save you!” she hissed.

He shook his head, and seemed about to speak, but someone interrupted.

“And that’s a wrap!” Monokuma shrilled. “It’s time for the punishment!”

“You bastard.” Mukuro muttered. It was all she could say.

Monokuma twirled down between them and split them apart. His face was inches from Mukuro’s.

“Heehee! Oh, Mukuro, Mukuro, Mukuro. Does this fill you with despair?”

It did. No matter Makoto’s kind words, there was no strength left in her. She wanted to feel hate, to feel anger, to rage and scream and attack the stupid bear, and perhaps to be struck down in response. It would have been better than the torrent of despair that filled her.

“I hate you.” she whispered.

Monokuma saw right through her.

“You’re such a disappointment.”

Disappointment…

The word struck a chord within her. A distant memory, faded but not entirely erased. For the briefest moment, there was something inside of Mukuro, something solid and real, and not the ghost of who she’d once been, or the memories of others told to her that she seized upon. This was her memory. Monokuma was not the first to call her a disappointment; Mukuro’s sister had often done the same, and it had hurt every time.

And that half-formed memory, pulled from whatever life she’d had before this damnable school, carried with it only one emotion: despair. It poured into her, suffocating her, drowning her even worse than Makoto’s impending death had. It was the most devastating realization of them all:

I finally have something besides despair, and it’s just more despair.

Her throat seized up, and she fell to the floor, unable to breathe. She grasped her neck and wept, and when the tears cleared, all she could see was a cord wrapped around Makoto’s own neck. He reached out for her, but the cord pulled back and dragged him with it. A second later, he disappeared into a drape.

The television screen above flickered back to life.

GAME OVER

A tiny pixel version of Monokuma marched over to a tiny pixel version of Makoto, then dragged him off-screen by the hair.

MAKOTO NAEGI HAS BEEN FOUND GUILTY. TIME FOR THE PUNISHMENT!

~ Seventy Seconds of Bad Luck ~

A perfectly straight, dimly-lit hallway stretched on in either direction. The walls were gray and cracked, and the skeleton of wood and metal was visible through the fractures. The carpet underneath was moist and frayed. Tiny, indistinct bugs crawled in and out of the holes, having lived and died for countless bug generations within the mold hidden just out of sight. Something like four-leafed clovers grew out of the floor, but they were black and dry, and crumbled to dust whenever they were touched.

Makoto searched either wall for a door, but found nothing. Unsure of what to do, but certain in the knowledge that anything would be to Monokuma’s benefit, he simply stood at the ready, waiting for the punishment.

Bump

Everything shook. Bits of plaster fell out of the walls and ceiling.

Bump

Makoto flipped around. His heart was racing.

Bump

In the distance, he saw something silvery shining in the dark.

Bump

A number of small shapes skittered over the floor from one direction. He looked down and saw that they were cats. No – tiny robots in the shape of cats, and each had Monokuma’s red eye. There were thirteen of them, and all of them were black.

The tiny robot cats jumped around, meowing in faux terror. They ran past Makoto, mocking panic and bidding him to follow.

Bump

Makoto squinted. The faraway silver something came more into focus.

Bump

He gasped.

It was a huge vehicle, a tractor or a steamroller, but modified. In the place of wheels, it had enormous metal legs that slammed into the ground, then pulled it forward by a few feet.

Bump

It filled the entire hallway. There was no way to pass it, and no way to slow it down.

Bump

The nose of the vehicle was emblazoned with picture of Monokuma’s face. Underneath it was the text: BAD LUCK BEAR. The bear in question sat in a seat behind the thick glass window of the machine, controlling it and forcing it toward the Ultimate Lucky Student.

Makoto ran from the machine in the other direction, and as he did, the speed at which it moved increased.

Bump bump bump

It moved faster than he could, faster than any human could, and he screamed and tried to stay ahead of it.

Bump bump bump bump

Something shone in the distance, but Makoto couldn’t slow down.

Bump bump bump bump bump

Four ladders were set up so that their legs touched either side of the hallway. They were easy to run under.

Bump bump bump bump bump bump

The ladders fell beneath the machine in seconds. It crushed them all underfoot like paper.

Bump bump bump bump bump bump bump

The shining light in the distance became clearer: it was a mirror. Like the machine, it took up the entire hallway. There was no way around it. Makoto watched his reflection grow larger and more panicked, and the machine behind him grew.

Bump bump bump bump bump bump bump bump

With no other choice, Makoto covered his face and jumped through the mirror. It shattered instantly, and on the other side—

A spear impaled Makoto straight through the heart. Lucky to the end, he died instantly, and his lifeless body was consumed by the machine. The uncaring vehicle moved on, leaving only a smear of blood where once a boy had been.

-----

Mukuro kneeled on the floor in abject shock, unable to tear her eyes away from the pink streak that had been Makoto. Even when the screen went black, she saw only his final, terrible moments. Her heart didn’t beat, her eyes didn’t blink, and no air passed through her lips. Whatever despair she’d felt before was less than a drop in the ocean compared to this. A ravenous void consumed all inside of her, leaving only a drape of pale skin pulled over despair shaped like a girl.

The world went black, and Mukuro lost herself in the darkness.

Chapter Text

Mukuro lay on her back. Dead, listless air entered her lungs unnoticed. Wrinkled, unwashed clothing and old bedsheets pressed against her skin. Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t tell the difference between light and darkness. Maybe her heart wasn’t beating.

A painful feeling gnawed at her from within. It was probably hunger, but that was okay. She could just lay here and starve to death, and that would be fine. How long had she been on this bed, staring at the ceiling and drifting in and out of consciousness? It might have been days. She’d read somewhere that it takes four or five days to die of thirst.

Just another day or two, then.

An old bulb in one of her ceiling lights flickered. The light it cast when it returned to life made something on her desk shine. For the first time since Sakura had laid her on the bed, Mukuro’s eye twitched. It was automatic, not conscious. Had she remembered what was on her desk, she would have never looked.

The God of War charm Makoto had given her sat there.

She tried to cry out, but her throat was aching and parched. She had only strength enough left to turn onto her stomach. Even burying her head in a pillow would have been too much effort. Now her eyes looked to the wall, and she saw one of Monokuma’s monitors. It was on. There was a single word in blocky white text over a black background: DISAPPOINTMENT.

Yes, she thought. I am.

-----

Ding dong

Mukuro woke, but she didn’t bother opening her eyes. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs. She felt like a ghost, an observer in her own body, unable to control it. Even that earlier act of turning over was impossible.

Her eyes burned and opened on their own. The bedsheet next to her head was wet with tears and saliva.

Ding dong

The door wasn’t locked. If someone opened it and came to kill her, she wouldn’t resist. It would end this despair.

Ding dong

A low rumble rose out of her throat. A groan? A scream? She didn’t know what she was doing anymore. Nothing made sense. Against her will, her thoughts began to organize. Makoto—

She shook her head. It was her first movement since waking up.

Makoto’s death—

His face, that spear, Sayaka’s hatred, images of these things filled the blackness of her sight. She opened her eyes just to ward them away, but it didn’t help. The monitor was off, but she still saw watery smudges of Makoto, Sayaka, and Chihiro on it.

Ding dong

She heaved what might have been a sigh. She tried to cry, but her body had no more tears to give.

The door clicked open. Footsteps. An ember sparked of whatever Mukuro still had that passed for hope.

Someone’s coming to kill me.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see who it was.

“Are you going to lie there forever?”

She winced with disappointment. It was Kyoko, one of the people least likely to murder her. Mukuro didn’t open her eyes. If she was lucky, the other girl might leave on her own.

It didn’t work, of course.

“Starving yourself to death won’t solve anything.” said her visitor.

You’re wrong… It would solve everything.

A gloved hand lightly touched the end of one of Mukuro’s tresses.

“Have you been in bed since the trial?”

Mukuro didn’t respond. After a few seconds, she tenderly opened one eye. Kyoko’s own violet eyes were a few inches away as she kneeled beside the bed, hand over her knee. Her normally icy demeanor had softened ever so slightly.

“You have to get up.” she said. Her voice was completely even.

Mukuro managed to make her lips part. Her tongue was so parched. A miserable, rasping sound squeezed out that could have been a word, but not even Mukuro knew what it was.

Kyoko sighed.

“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you want.”

It was.

“Just because your name means ‘corpse’ doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

Mukuro couldn’t muster the strength to argue. It was so painful to have this conversation, to be forced to think. She just wanted to lie back and let herself be swept back into nonexistence.

How can she be so cruel?

“Leave me al…” Mukuro said. Her voice was so weak and weary, even she almost couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t even finish the third word.

“Did you forget your promise to me?”

Mukuro’s head throbbed. She didn’t want to think.

“You promised me that I could watch your motive video.”

Mukuro turned onto her back.

“Desk…” she mouthed.

“No, you’ll watch it with me. Get up.”

Kyoko stood up. Now that the trial was over, she’d transformed back into some kind of immovable sculpture, a being of perfect poise and confidence whose desires could not be argued with. Mukuro looked up at her, begging with her eyes to be left alone to die. But, of course, it didn’t work.

Mukuro pulled a trembling hand to the edge of the bed. She barely felt the wooden frame at all. At last, she hauled herself into a sitting position. Her legs were far too weak to stand. She couldn’t even raise her head, and settled for just staring at Kyoko’s feet. Her head wavered back and forth, barely even attached to her shoulders.

“You’ve been in here for two days.” Kyoko said, answering her unspoken question. Mukuro nodded absently. “Sakura and Aoi are worried.”

Somehow, Mukuro forced herself to grab the bed’s headboard. Her legs cooperated automatically, and she was on her feet. She wobbled back and forth, feeling like she might drop to the floor at any moment. Kyoko studied her for a few seconds before issuing an order:

“Take a shower.”

Mukuro didn’t argue. She half-walked, half-fell to the bathroom. She didn’t close the door, though Kyoko was kind enough to do it for her. Mukuro smashed against the wall and leaned her face against it for support. Her hand grabbed for the faucet, and the showerhead burst water.

She didn’t realize she was still dressed.

-----

“Here.”

Kyoko held out a bottle of water. Mukuro saw it only half-consciously, but her body acted for her. Her hands reached out and took it. A moment later, water rushed into and down the desert of her mouth and throat. It was the greatest feeling of relief Mukuro had felt perhaps in her entire life. With it came a rush of sobriety. The world came slightly more into focus.

She hadn’t even realized they were in the AV Room.

Her lips stayed wrapped around the bottle, and she found that she couldn’t separate herself from it. More and more water raced down her throat, and she felt it all sloshing in her stomach. She almost bent over from pain and pleasure at the same time.

Mukuro’s hand pulled the bottle away once it was empty. There wasn’t a drop left. She let it fall into a small trashcan to her side, and turned back to find Kyoko pulling out a plastic DVD case. The cover was transparent. Within it was one of the gray motive DVDs. The words “Kyoko Kirigiri” were scrawled onto its surface.

Mukuro leaned against the doorframe of the AV Room. Even with the water in her system, she was still pale, still barely able to stand. Her eyelids were almost too heavy to even open. She wasn’t even sure how Kyoko had gotten her here.

“I don’t need to see yours.” Mukuro sighed. The six words slurred together so much that even she herself could barely hear them. The water was the only thing she could feel inside.

Kyoko shook her head.

“I promised to trade our videos.”

“Just tell me what’s on it. I trust you.”

That was only technically true. Mukuro did trust Kyoko, but she just wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. She could close her eyes and just pretend to listen…

She let herself slide to the floor and leaned against the doorframe. How could anyone be this fatigued from doing nothing at all?

Half of her body was in the AV Room, and half lay outside in the hallway. The hallway was much larger and airier, so the cool air felt almost fresh. Her eyelids shut, and she sat against a tree on top of a beautiful green knoll. The wind swept against her skin and took with it all of her guilt and hate. For a moment—

Kyoko tapped her on her knee. Reluctantly, Mukuro came back to reality. Groaning, she pulled herself to the nearest monitor and plopped heavily into the chair. Kyoko fetched a second pair of headphones, slipped her own DVD into the console, and closed the door.

It was basically what Mukuro expected. A shaky, faraway camera took video of a kind-faced old man with wispy white hair and pale brown eyes. He walked down the steps of an office building and to a black sedan. Monokuma’s horrible voice explained that this was Fuhito Kirigiri, Kyoko’s grandfather, and then the scene switched. The same car was wrecked up by the side of a road, and a house in the distance – presumably Kyoko’s or Fuhito’s – was on fire. There was some more taunting…

Mukuro yawned. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open. After an interminably long time, the video ended.

“Do you love your grandfather?” she asked.

The question took them both by surprise. Mukuro hadn’t meant to ask it, or even to ask anything at all. It had just… sprouted from nothing.

Kyoko hummed.

“What do you think?”

I think you never answer questions directly…

“You must.” Mukuro yawned again.

“Why?”

“You’re too moral… too noble…” Mukuro lay back in the chair. She wasn’t thinking as she spoke, and the words were as new to her as they were to Kyoko. “You must love your family very much.”

This clearly amused the other girl. The corner of Kyoko’s lips tugged into a small smile, then the biggest one Mukuro had ever seen from her.

“Me? Noble? Maybe you’re not as perceptive as I thought…”

“Liar…” Mukuro breathed. Her eyes closed again, but she kept talking. “In the trial, when you realized what happened… You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t condemn Makoto or me for something you knew was so wrong. Makoto couldn’t speak up against me, even to save his life… Even Byakuya couldn’t do it, but…”

“But you could?” Kyoko finished the thought.

“But I could!” Mukuro shouted as she flourished a hand in the air. It was the most effort she’d spent on anything since the trial. Her voice was strong for a moment, then it died. Her face contorted, her teeth grit together, and she tasted the bitter, salty tears flowing down her cheeks. “Oh, oh, Makoto! I killed you!”

She took Kyoko by the shoulders, who recoiled at the unexpected contact. But Mukuro was much stronger, and easily overpowered a girl only slightly smaller than herself. Her muscles tightened without her meaning to, and she squeezed Kyoko so hard that the latter girl cried out in pain.

Mukuro swung the flailing, utterly helpless girl over and onto her lap. Kyoko was something between surprised, afraid, and completely indignant, but Mukuro couldn’t help it. Her weeping turned the world into a blurry smudge, and she buried her face in what was probably Kyoko’s chest. She retched and heaved for minutes, weeping and destroying whatever piece of cloth her eyes and nose were pressed against. Sometimes she babbled something even she couldn’t understand, but mostly she just gasped for air in short, shallow breaths.

Kyoko squirmed in her arms, but there was no way she was going to escape. After a while, she awkwardly raised a hand. She looked away and blushed, clearly embarrassed despite herself, and tried to pat Mukuro’s back.

“There… there?” she tried to coo. The words didn’t come easily to her; even in this state, Mukuro knew it was the first time Kyoko had ever tried to comfort someone distraught. It didn’t help that she was obviously uncomfortable with physical contact.

Mukuro sniffled, then released her. Kyoko fumbled for a second, but managed to regain her footing. Mukuro wiped her bloodshot eyes with her wrist, a smear of translucent teardrops left shining on Hina’s loaned jacket. Once she could see clearly, she realized Kyoko was gritting her teeth and rubbing herself where Mukuro had grabbed her.

“Oh no!” Mukuro stood up suddenly. Kyoko recoiled two or three steps, and Mukuro pressed her hands against her own mouth. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Kyoko lied.

“I’m so sorry, please, I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

Kyoko let her arms drop to her side, but Mukuro could tell it was just to keep up the charade of not being injured.

“Kyoko, please don’t hate me, I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t hate you.” Kyoko replied.

She signaled Mukuro to sit back down. Mukuro obeyed, folding her hands in her lap.

“It hurts.” Mukuro said. She was still crying, though it wasn’t as bad as before. “It hurts so much.”

“I know.” Kyoko nodded. “I’m hurt, too.”

“You?” Mukuro sniffed. “But you’re—”

“Noble? Don’t call me that.” The lavender-haired girl closed her eyes. “I’m not.”

“But—”

“When the time came to act, when everyone’s lives were on the line, I let my emotions get the better of me.” She crossed her arms, and her voice sounded almost angry. “It’s shameful.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It is,” Kyoko retorted, and the way she said the words left no room for argument. “Did you think I’m emotionless? That I can ignore everything and focus purely on the job?” She shook her head. “I feel the same things you do. I just hide it when there’s nothing to be gained by letting others know what’s inside. I couldn’t even do that well enough to comfort Makoto in his… final moments.”

Mukuro didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to respond. Kyoko smiled, but there no mirth in it. She seemed sad.

“Despite all of that, despite bragging how I would expose the killer as soon as I could to save everyone…” She shook her head. “It killed you to tell everyone how Chihiro died, I know. But you were able to anyway. You chose the hard path.”

“The hard path?” Mukuro repeated.

Kyoko opened her eyes again.

“Your DVD.” she said. Her voice was back to normal.

Despite everything, this weird, awkward talk actually had calmed Mukuro’s nerves. She still felt horrible, of course, but Kyoko had given her back some energy. With a sigh, she pulled the DVD out of her jacket and slid it into the tray. Kyoko watched the screen intently, but Mukuro, having already seen it, just closed her eyes.

“Oh no, oh no, oh noooo!” an all-too-familiar voice shrilled in her headphones.

Mukuro’s eyes shot open. She didn’t remember Monokuma saying that in her video. Her alarm was not missed by Kyoko, who watched both the screen and her partner with great interest.

The screen was completely black, save for a single figure in the center. The black-and-white bear himself stood on some invisible surface, back to the camera. He was hunched over, feigning some kind of dejection or humiliation.

“Oh dear, this is beary bad! What do I do?” he asked.

Mukuro sat up and stared at the screen. This was not the creepy hallway. This was not the dorm bedroom. Where was the girl with the blonde pigtails? Her heart was racing.

“I just don’t know what to do!” Monokuma continued. “You see, Mukuro, this is normally where I’d play a video of your loved one in danger. I’d imply that he or she is about to die, and the only way for you to save them is to kill someone to escape and go to the rescue! It’s what I did for everyone else. But for you…” He shrugged. “You just don’t have any loved ones! There’s no one in the world you love, and no one in the world who loves you!”

Mukuro stood up, sending the wheeled chair behind her rocketing away. Sweat dripped from her brow and splashed onto the screen. Monokuma’s face went fuzzy underneath the water.

“So… I guess I’ll just need to improvise! I hereby present the Special Mukuro Ikusaba Exclusive Motive!” Monokuma raised one foot, then twirled to the camera like a ballerina. “Ohohoho! If you mukurotize someone – that is, turn them into a corpse – and you lose the trial… Nothing will happen!”

Monokuma performed a perfect pirouette, jumped into the air, then spun to a stop as he landed. His form was flawless.

“Yes, my murderiest of students! How many lives did you end while in Fenrir? I literally don’t know! In honor of your skill, I offer a special one-time Get Out of Jail Free card! Your execution… won’t be an execution! You can just go back to your communal school life as if nothing had ever happened… except with one fewer classmate, I guess.” Monokuma ran up to the camera, leaned in, and pressed a hand over his mouth, as if whispering conspiratorially. “Personally, I’d kill whoever bugs you the most. That way, it’s a win-win situation.”

Monokuma pressed his hands on his stomach, then roared with laughter.

“What will life be like after you graduate?!”

Goofy pink font exploded onto the screen.

LOOK FOR THE ANSWER AFTER GRADUATION!

The message faded, and Monokuma laughed like an insane person. A second later, the screen went dark.

Mukuro didn’t move. She felt numb. Even number than after the trial. At least then, she’d been aware of her pain and despair. Right now, she felt… nothing.

“Mukuro.”

She craned her neck to the side. She’d forgotten Kyoko was there. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Kyoko tapped the back of her hand against her chin, watching her closely.

“That wasn’t your original video, was it?”

Mukuro tried to respond, but words failed her. Nothing came out when she moved her lips to form words. Sweat trickled down her forehead and into the corners of her eyes. They stood there in silence for some time. Mukuro didn’t know how long.

“I don’t understand.” she said at last.

“Was that your original video?” Kyoko asked.

“I don’t… what?”

“Mukuro!” Kyoko frowned. “Was that your original video?”

Mukuro moved over to the nearest chair, then settled into it. She looked at Kyoko’s feet.

The girl with blonde pigtails…

It was impossible. She hadn’t just imagined that, right? That entire horrible video with the girl who claimed to be her sister?

She pulled her legs up onto the chair, pressing her knees against her breasts. Her emotional numbness shifted very quickly into fear and dread. She was trembling.

This is a trick by Monokuma!

“It’s probably a trick by Monokuma.” Kyoko said.

Mukuro looked up, shocked at how perfectly Kyoko had echoed her thoughts, except with confidence instead of doubt.

“It… is?” she asked.

“Monokuma says he doesn’t lie to us, but he’s extremely deceptive.” Kyoko shook her head. “I suppose he never technically said that he wouldn’t replace our motive DVDs when we weren’t looking.”

Mukuro considered this. It helped to hear it from someone else. Blood flowed back into her face. A sense of profound relief washed over her, dispelling even her pain from the trial.

“Yeah…” she whispered. “Yeah, that does… make sense, right?”

“Mukuro,” Kyoko said. “Tell me what was in your real video.”

Mukuro nodded, still thankful for Kyoko’s reassurances.

“Well… It was this creepy camcorder footage. Someone was walking in the hallway to the dorms—”

“The dorms here?”

“Yeah, except the lights were all off. They went to a room, I couldn’t tell if it was mine, and opened the door. The person holding the camera was… a teenage girl with…”

She burned red and turned away. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeats.

Kyoko can’t see the video… If I tell her about me being the person with the camera…

“A teenage girl with a Fenrir tattoo,” she decided. “I think it was me, but I couldn’t tell. I never saw the face.”

She looked up to Kyoko with puppy dog eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t condemn her immediately. Kyoko simply tapped her chin, listening in neutrally.

“Keep going.”

“The girl – me, maybe – went into the room and found another girl on the bed. She was beaten up a lot, and tied up. She was gagged, but I removed the rag in her mouth, and she started begging me—”

“You, in the video, or the camcorder?” Kyoko asked.

Mukuro’s heart skipped a beat. Now that she thought about it…

That is weird!

“The camera…” Mukuro whispered. Her eyes unfocused, and she imagined the scene from the recording. “I… She tried to look at me in the video, but then looked to the camera and started begging for me to… forgive her. Saying things like ‘it was her fault’ and ‘I’ll never argue with you again,’ and calling my ‘big sis.’ Then the me in the video beat her up a little more, and she seemed to go unconscious.” She looked back up to Kyoko, eyes wide. “I swear I have no memory of any of that! I swear, I’d never hurt my sister like that, no matter what.”

“Describe the girl in your video.” Kyoko pressed.

She didn’t say ‘your sister.’ Does she think…?

“Unbelievably beautiful.” Mukuro said. “You’ve never seen anyone half as gorgeous. Blonde pigtails, each as thick as your torso. The biggest, softest blue eyes you could ever imagine. Pale, flawless skin, except where she’d been beaten up. Even when she cried and her makeup ran, she was still a million times more beautiful than you could ever imagine. Just looking at her, even not knowing she was my sister, made me want to protect her, like I was failing in some way if someone so innocent and perfect could ever be in danger. Any boy would gladly die for a chance with her…” She hesitated, blushed, and finished her thought with a squeaking voice. “I think most girls would, too.”

Kyoko absorbed everything Mukuro said, her attention never wavering. At last, she nodded.

“Interesting.” was all she said.

“You… do believe me, right?” Mukuro asked.

Kyoko shook her head.

“It’s not about belief. What matters is evidence.”

“But I—”

“Have been specially picked out by Monokuma before.” Kyoko said. “It doesn’t surprise me that he’d do it again.”

“I was picked out?”

“Who’s the girl with the missing memories?” Kyoko asked. “Who’s the girl who was beaten almost to a pulp? Who’s the girl who doesn’t get clothing?”

Mukuro frowned. When you put it that way, it sounded like Monokuma had a special interest in her.

I don’t like that idea…

“Did he play that bra trick on you, too?”

“Bra trick?” Kyoko asked.

“The first day, in my closet, there were a bunch of bras that were way too big, and some boxes of tissues.”

Kyoko raised an eyebrow.

“No.” she said, clearly interested. “But even without that, we found something while exploring the school. Monokuma never mentioned anyone specifically, but it was obviously really about you.”

“What did you find?”

The door flew open before Kyoko could respond. Toko stood there, breathing hard. Her hair was more frazzled than usual, and she made no real attempt to hide her awkward relief at finding someone.

“O—oh, Kyoko!” She smiled nervously. “G—guess what?!”

Kyoko stared at her blankly, not even responding.

“I’ve been l—looking for you,” Toko kept going. “I know you’re r—really busy with Mukuro and whatever, b—but I’m going to th—the bathhouse right now, wanna come?”

“Bathhouse?” Mukuro asked, utterly perplexed.

“Monokuma opened up some new locations in the school,” Kyoko explained. “When we explored them, we found—”

“Y—yeah, that’s really interesting! Tell me more later!” Toko snarled. “But I need someone to… uh… wash my back, so come with me right now!”

She said the last part of the sentence too quickly, all as one word. Kyoko was clearly as surprised as Mukuro.

“But—”

Toko ran inside of the room and grabbed Kyoko by the wrist. Mukuro could tell she was squeezing as hard as she could.

“G—great! Glad you agree. I didn’t want to say anything, but you smell like s—shit, you know? Let’s go right now.”

She pulled a semi-resistant Kyoko almost off of her feet and dragged her through the doorway. Mukuro watched them, more confused than anything else. The last thing she saw of them was Kyoko looking back at her.

“Find Taka.” she said, and disappeared.

-----

Although Kyoko had left Mukuro with that cryptic order, the Ultimate Unknown found something else pulling at her attention: her stomach. Hunger overwhelmed her the moment she was alone, and she found herself entering the cafeteria almost before she even knew what was happening.

The room was empty but for a single occupant: Celeste. She sat alone in a corner, legs gracefully crossed. What looked like fifty cards were scattered over her table in a complicated pattern Mukuro couldn’t discern, being used to play a game she knew she would never understand. An elegant china tea set sat in the center of the table, steam pouring out of the pot’s spout. Fittingly for its owner, the set was decorated with black and red flowers. Mukuro wondered where it had even come from.

“Ah, Mukuro!” Celeste looked up at her coolly. “Are you here for an early dinner?”

Dinner?

Mukuro checked the clock on the wall: 3:34.

Her throat was too dry for her to really care much about that, though. She waved awkwardly, then bounded into the kitchen.

Two entire water bottles later, Mukuro had at least quenched the problem of thirst. Someone, likely Hiro or Hina, had left half a loaf of stale bread out. It was almost hard enough to use as a weapon, but Mukuro’s teeth grinded it down in seconds. Dry, hardened starch had never tasted so good.

A minute later, Mukuro emerged from the kitchen holding a pile of the first things she’d found in the fridge: three more water bottles, a box of frozen waffles, someone’s cold pizza, a plastic box of strawberries, and a jar of some sort of purple jam.

She threw all of it onto the closest table, allowing one of the water bottles to roll away and bounce onto the floor. It didn’t matter. The hunger was all that controlled her now. Without regard for dignity or even health, she splashed the strawberries and jam across the waffles and shoved the Frankenstein’s monster of a meal into her mouth. Just the taste of it brought satisfaction.

“My, my,” Celeste cooed. Mukuro hadn’t seen when, but at some point, the gothic girl had picked up her cards and wandered over. She set herself down on the opposite side of the table, carefully avoiding the strange meal Mukuro had created. “I’m happy to see you out and about, finally.”

Mukuro managed to swallow the waffle in her mouth before responding. She might not have bothered otherwise, but Celeste seemed like the student who most valued proper manners.

“Yeah…” she said. She picked up a slice of pizza, rolled into a tube despite its half-frozen status, and raised it to her lips. “I heard you guys explored the school without me.”

“Indeed, that is so!” Celeste grinned. Suddenly, she pressed against the table. Her eyes were wide and intense. “What do you think of what Byakuya found?”

“Dunno,” Mukuro said, then stuffed the pizza into her lips. She swallowed it in three bites. “What did he find?”

That question pleased Celeste greatly.

“Then you haven’t heard?”

“I don’t know anything except that there’s a bathhouse somewhere.”

Celeste tapped one of her fingers on the table.

“Apparently, Byakuya, Kyoko, and Taka explored the library on the second floor together. Monokuma confronted them for some reason. I don’t know the specifics of the conversation, but… Byakuya either convinced or tricked him into giving him a sheet of paper.”

Mukuro had finally sated enough of her hunger to could focus on other things. It was only now that the strangeness of this conversation struck her:

Wait, Celeste?

Celeste was probably the single student she’d spoken the least to. Had they exchanged even one word to each other besides introductions on the first day and during the trial?

Come to think of it, I don’t think I know anything about Celeste, except that she’s a gambler and likes black. Why would she be interested in me all of a sudden?

“What’s on this sheet of paper?” Mukuro asked, suddenly cautious.

“From what I hear… you are.” Celeste leaned over. That creepy wide eyes-and-open mouth look returned. “It seems you may no longer be quite the mystery you once were!”

Mukuro furrowed her brow.

“I don’t understand.”

“Monokuma offered the trio their choice of one student’s official school profile,” Celeste continued, returning to her normal elegant demeanor. “Before Taka or Kyoko could speak, our dear Byakuya said your name, and so Monokuma produced your file.”

Mukuro was suddenly much more interested.

“What was on it?!” she demanded. “Wait, no – why’d he choose me?”

Celeste closed her eyes, smiled, and set her face on her hands.

“To answer your second question first… There’s really no other choice but you, is there? Who else would he pick?”

Mukuro bit on her cheek.

Not anyone whose Ultimate talent we already know…

“He could’ve chosen Kyoko.”

“He could have, but he didn’t,” Celeste shrugged. “As to your first question… Our dear Taka unfortunately confiscated the file before anyone could read it, citing privacy concerns. He said something about how the person actually in the file has the right to read it first, and has carried it around with him since. No one knows what’s on it.”

Mukuro bit into another slice of pizza.

My profile! It would have my talent, my history, everything about me!

“I’ve got to find Taka, then!” she said.

“Hold on a moment!” Celeste asked. “Before you go and destroy your own ears with his bellowing, I have a proposal.” She set the deck of cards she’d been playing with in the center of the table. “Would you be interested in a game?”

“… Why would I want to play a game?” Mukuro asked, suddenly very suspicious of the sparkle in Celeste’s eyes.

“Everyone is very curious about your file… including me. I know Taka wouldn’t have altered or read your file since he obtained it, which means it must still be in its original condition. So, I’d like to play a game with you! If I win, we’ll go to Taka together, and I’ll read aloud your profile, and then you can take it with you as normal.”

Mukuro blinked, wondering if she’d heard that right.

“Why would you possibly want to read my profile aloud, then give it back to me?” she asked.

“What, indeed?” Celeste breathed. “Well, the truth is… I don’t trust you!” It was almost impossible to believe how politely she could say something like that. “If I have the file myself, before you touch it, then I’ll know what was actually on it. I mean no offense, but I don’t have quite the same trust in you that Makoto had.”

Celeste kept smiling, either oblivious to or willingly ignoring the strangeness of her behavior. There was something predatory in her bearing, something unstated but that screamed to Mukuro that this was the single most untrustworthy person in Hope’s Peak.

“No offense, Celeste,” Mukuro said, trying to stay polite. “But why would I want to bet the right to read my profile when I get nothing if I win?”

“Did I say nothing?” Celeste traced a finger along the spiral hair of one of her clip-on pigtails. “I don’t think I said I’d bet nothing in return… No, I think I might just have something to interest you…”

She reached into an invisible lacey fold of her skirt, then flourished a sheet of paper folded into four parts. Her fingers ran across the edges of one square, lifting it up and revealing a small photograph paperclipped near the top. The picture was a headshot of Makoto.

“What is that?!” Mukuro gasped.

“Why, I believe it’s our dear departed Makoto’s student profile.”

Mukuro stood up and slammed her hands onto the table. Celeste didn’t flinch.

“Where the hell did you get that?!”

Celeste raised a hand over her lips and suppressed a giggle, and used the other to wave Makoto’s profile tantalizingly close. Perverse pleasure burned behind her eyes.

“Byakuya wasn’t the only one to have a run-in with our headmaster while exploring,” she explained. “Though, I was alone when Monokuma confronted me. I had a similar conversation, and this is what I now own.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’d choose Makoto’s file!”

“Doesn’t it?” Celeste chided. “I’m not like the others, you know. I very much do believe in the power of luck… Yet Makoto, supposedly the luckiest of all of us, suffered the most unfortunate and unjust demise imaginable. If his fortune could fail him, imagine how panicked I, a gambler, must have been.”

That’s a lie, Mukuro thought. That’s a damn lie! She wanted my file, and Monokuma had already given it away, and she knew this was the only way to get it.

Why Celeste would want to read Mukuro’s profile specifically was unguessable, but… that Makoto file was the only link that still existed to him. It was the only way to learn more about him, unless Mukuro could one day track down the sister he’d mentioned, and the chances of that were slim.

A bead of sweat dripped down Mukuro’s nose. She knew this was a bad idea, just as surely as she’d known Sayaka was going to kill someone, and yet…

“Why not just trade for it?” Mukuro offered. “You could just offer me Makoto’s and demand the right to read mine in return.”

An evil smile tugged at Celeste’s lips.

“Why do that, when I can keep what I already have? Besides… I want to know more about you than just a profile can tell me.”

Know me?

Celeste continued, happy to answer the question in Mukuro’s thoughts.

“It’s human nature to want to answer a mystery, and you’re the biggest mystery of any of us. I’m almost jealous. People talk about you when you’re not around, and even I want to know more. I just haven’t had a chance to get to know you since this all started. Sakura, did you know she can tell much of a person just by how they fight her? Or so she says, at least. I’m the same way, except by gambling. Once, in Vienna, I played a few hours of poker with four men I’d never met before. By the third hand, I knew their entire life stories, their number of mistresses, their wealth and income… and other things, I suppose. I bet Asahina can tell the same thing by watching someone swim, or Leon by watching them play baseball. In any case, I want to know more of you. So, no, I won’t trade it.”

As if to emphasize her point, Celeste folded the profile back up and started to slip it back into her skirt. For a moment, all Mukuro could imagine was losing this chance forever.

“Wait!” she said through gritted teeth. “I… want to choose the game.”

Celeste beamed, then daintily set the profile onto the table face-down.

“Of course! Any card game at all, your choice. I might just have to upgrade you to a D-rank…”

What game can I beat Celeste at?

It wasn’t an easy question. Mukuro knew the basics of poker and blackjack, but trying to beat the Ultimate Gambler at those things would be like an arm-wrestling contest against Sakura, a baseball match against Leon, or a stuttering contest against Toko. It was suicide to even try it.

Celeste punctuated her thoughts by picking up and shuffling the deck. Her fingers barely seemed to move at all, but the cards just flew in any direction she desired.

What Mukuro needed was a game with no skill involved at all, where the difference between a novice and an expert was nonexistent.

“High card draw.” she said at last.

Celeste raised an eyebrow. The request at least surprised her.

“You want to just draw a single card each?”

“That’s right.”

Celeste mulled this over for a moment.

“D-rank, indeed…” she admitted. “Very well, then! Aces high.”

She brought her hands together with a high-pitched smack, pressing the cards into a single pile. A moment later, it was on the table.

“How… do I know you aren’t cheating?” Mukuro asked.

“Oh, please!” Celeste scoffed. “You insult me. As if I’d ever need to cheat at a card game. Shuffle it yourself, if you want. Or you can choose which one of us picks first. Either is fine.”

Mukuro bit her lip. She reached down a trembling hand and took the first card on the deck. Without checking it, she pushed it against her chest. Neither of them could see its face.

Celeste took a much less dramatic option: she just plucked up the second card and turned it over. It was a Four of Clubs.

Mukuro was shocked by the lameness of the draw, but Celeste’s haughty demeanor didn’t crack an inch. She looked back up to Mukuro’s yet-unknown card and smiled.

“Well?” she asked with faux-kindness.

Is this my chance? Mukuro wondered. The mystery card pressed against her chest, and her beat hard against it. Oh God, I actually have a chance!

She set the card down on the table, back-up. Slowly, carefully, she flipped it.

Two of Hearts.

Celeste’s pale, pampered hand swept down upon the student profile. With a broken heart, Mukuro watched the only remaining link to Makoto disappear back into the folds of a lacey black skirt. She must have looked devastated, but Celeste didn’t seem to notice.

“Shall we go find Taka?” Celeste asked, her voice as pleasant as ever.

Chapter Text

Certain students could be stealthy when they wished it, like Kyoko, Byakuya, and Toko… but Taka wasn’t one of them. He was always loud, always obvious, and always seen. Tracking down his whereabouts to the pool on the second floor was an easy task.

It was the first time Mukuro had seen the second floor. Before she had much of a chance to take it in, Celeste glided to the left of the stairs and toward a new room.

“This leads to the pool,” she explained. “But… when I open this door, make sure not to panic.”

“Panic?” Mukuro repeated.

Celeste smiled, then slid open the door. Beyond it was a room filled with a myriad of pool equipment – nothing especially notable. Separate doors led to the boy and girl changing rooms, which presumably fed into the pool area. Nothing was unexpected…

Except the enormous, terrifying gatling gun installed on the ceiling.

Mukuro’s heart skipped a beat. It was beautiful.

“It’s one of Monokuma’s school defenses, I’m afraid,” Celeste said airily. She seemed to mistake Mukuro’s expression for fear. “To enter your gender of changing room, you scan your e-Handbook on the panel next to the door. Go through one without scanning, and…”

Mukuro was barely listening. Her eyes darted over the gun again and again.

Definitely active and well-maintained… maybe a M194 Vulcan, or an M161, scraping along the mount means it was probably pulled off a decommissioned jet fighter, 6000 bullets per minute, if the belt into the ceiling can feed it enough. Doesn’t have full coverage over both doors from the middle of the room. You could probably slide through the wrong door if the gun’s facing the wrong way in advance, but getting back out would be difficult. Definitely impractical; more of a threat or decoration more than a serious deterrence.

She was in love. Her heart beat almost as fast as when she’d held Makoto, and a tiny bit of drool eked out of her lips and crept down her chin. He was the most beautiful gun she’d ever seen. Mukuro could have spent the next five hours running her hands over him and examining his every nook and cranny, learning all of his secrets.

Wait, 'him?'  She blinked. Aw, hell, would Monokuma be made if I named him?

Celeste raised an eyebrow, and Mukuro snapped back to reality.

“Um…” She bit her lip. “Scary.”

“Indeed,” Celeste agreed.

Something in her tone made Mukuro wonder if the other girl had seen the actual emotions in her mind, but Celeste gave no other indication of it. Instead, she turned on her heels and waved her e-Handbook over the panel.

“Monokuma said something about adding another rule,” she said vaguely. “Something about not lending out your handbook…”

Mukuro followed suit, scanning her own handbook and entering the girl’s changing area. The door slid open over the course of a few seconds. She craned her head around, sad to see the enormous gun disappear behind the automatic doors. They slid closed over the course of seconds.

I’ll be back, she promised.

The walls of the girl’s changing area were an ugly shade of deep purple, and were decorated by a single poster for some boy band named Tornado. Dumbbells were everywhere, just begging to be dropped and chip the expensive wooden floor. A few exercise machines and punching bags hung here and there, as did a long metal bench. Another door in the back led into the pool.

“I just thought of something,” Mukuro said. “How do we know that the student profiles are accurate?”

Celeste paused, then looked back. It seemed as if the thought had never occurred to her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean… What if Monokuma just made them up to mess with us?”

“Hey!” screeched a certain familiar voice.

Monokuma bounced in from some unknown angle. He stood between Mukuro, who jumped back in surprise, and Celeste, who regarded him coolly and without fear.

“Who are you calling a liar?!” he cried.

Mukuro stared him down for a long time, unable to speak. This was the first time she’d seen Monokuma since the trial, and she was possessed suddenly by the urgent desire to kick him into the wall. Only the knowledge of the bombs inside each robot stopped her.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” Monokuma said. “It seems like Mukuro is thinking about something she shouldn’t be. Well, that’s okay. Imagining breaking the rules isn’t actually against the rules… yet.”

“You fucking bastard.” Mukuro hissed. “One day, I’ll—”

“Oh, yes, yes, avenge your not-boyfriend or whatever. Mukuro, honestly, you’re like third on the list of girls Makoto had his eye on, at best, behind Little Miss Withholds Evidence and Childhood Friend.”

Mukuro’s leg flew forward in a horizontal arc all on its own, and struck Monokuma in his red eye. Most of his head caved in, and his broken body soared into the center of some lockers, which crumbled in an instant.

The collapse of the lockers trapped what remained of Monokuma in a small heap of metal, but it was easy to hear the warning beeps. This finally alarmed Celeste, who gasped in shock and horror, and ran for the pool door. She slammed against it and jumped out of the room without a trace of her normal measured elegance.

Mukuro stood there, watching the site of Monokuma’s demise. She was furious, but something in the back of her brain was working on its own.

Pile of lockers means lots of small pieces of metal, she thought automatically. An explosion inside there will act as an IED. Probably encompass everything within thirty feet.

That would take out the entire room. She couldn’t go for Celeste’s door; covering that distance would take too long. The door back out took a few seconds to open. Judging by how the beeps from Monokuma’s corpse were increasing in frequently, there was little chance of escape.

Mukuro’s body dodged backward. Her foot caught the edge of a metal bench and kicked it so it would stand on its short side, reaching as tall as a human. She gripped one of its long edges, took it as a shield, and slid herself and the bench behind the thick punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Her hands raised to her ears.

BOOM

Sound. Heat. A wave of force. Hundreds of metal shards whizzing past her face. Splinters of what had been a locker carving through the punching bag, then slicing into the bench. Mukuro being thrown against the wall, hiding behind her makeshift bulwark, her slim body the perfect size and shape to escape any harm.

Mukuro kicked down what was left of the bench. It shattered on impact with the floor. The room was completely obliterated. The walls and ceiling were more metal than wood and plastic, the school monitor and camera were minced to pieces, and even the heavy metal weight machines were knocked onto their sides and broken into bits. Slivers of locker and robot bear pierced almost every inch of the floor and turned it into a miniature minefield.

Mukuro’s heart was barely beating. There wasn’t a scratch on her. In fact, she’d never felt calmer in her life.

Then it struck her what she’d just done. She examined her hands and feet with the greatest surprise, unable to comprehend how she’d just kicked a robot’s head in and survived an almost pointblank explosion.

“Oh, jeez!” whined a knee-high voice. “Do you know how expensive it’ll be to fix this?!”

Mukuro jumped back. Mechanically, her body took on a practiced stance, and her hands raised up to her face. She was ready to rip open a man’s chest and pull out his heart… if he had one. The new Monokuma scanned what was left of the girl’s changing area, then shook his head.

“This is why senators keep slashing the education budget!” he whined. “Taxpayers think they’re sending dollars to pay for improved school infrastructure, but it all just gets funneled into the ‘fixing things flat-chested teenage girls broke while upset at how flat they are’ fund.”

“You…” was the only word Mukuro could force out.

“… are the sexiest, most lovable bear in the world?” Monokuma’s face turned red. “Aw, you shouldn’t have, but don’t forget – student-faculty relationships are strictly forbidden!” He moved his paws to his stomach, then laughed. “Ah, oh well. I was planning on killing you with the Spears of Gungnir, but honestly, the time for that’s passed. I think I made the right call not killing you at the start of the game; this is slightly more fun.”

Mukuro huffed. Monokuma’s rambling wasn’t just annoying, it was getting nonsensical. Spears of Gungnir? Killing her at the start of the game? What did those things even mean? She wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face again as revenge for Makoto… but there wasn’t enough material left in the room for her to survive another explosion.

“Anyway, Mukuro, I came here to tell you something very important: bears do NOT lie. Anything you find in this school, be it photos, files, books, or DVDs, is always real. So that student profile you were so worried about? No need to be concerned: it’s real.”

“You fucking bastard!” she said again.

“Oh, please. What would you be using your time to do if you weren’t in a killing game? Manga? Video games? Movies? Betraying your sister? Dating? Fashion? All a complete waste of time.”

That fourth example struck a chord. For a second, Mukuro’s anger waned.

“W—wait!” she said. “That video I had of my sister, the girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, is it real?”

“Ugh!” Monokuma raised his paws above his head and stamped the ground. “Are you stupid, or are you just not listening to me? … Probably both. You’re lucky I don’t give grades, or you’d get an M for ‘Mukuro!’ Fine, I’ll repeat myself just this once: anything you find in this school is always real, unless someone in the game tampers with it in a fully justified attempt to kill you.”

Then the first DVD has to be real… Mukuro thought. I do have a sister.

Mukuro dropped her stance and resumed a normal standing position. Shards of metal were embedded everywhere into the floor, but she stepped around them easily.

Monokuma laughed.Mukuro pressed for the pool door to open without looking back.

The pool was spacious, beautiful, and clear, everything you would want it to be… but that barely even registered. To its side, Taka, Celeste, and Hifumi stood, jaws dropped.

“M… Mukuro!” the first sputtered. “You’re alive?!”

“Looks like.” she said.

“You attacked Monokuma!” Celeste cried. She still hadn’t quite recovered her normal composure. “H—how?!”

“Yeah…” Mukuro reached a hand to her other arm and rubbed it. “His metal frame’s not as tough as it looks. It only took one good kick to collapse most of it.”

“That doesn’t explain how you survived, though.” Taka said. His eyes moved all over Mukuro’s body, searching in vain for a broken bone or a trace of blood.

“Oh, I just dodged behind a metal bench to use as a shield.”

Hifumi gasped.

“So, this is what dad meant by 3D being as good as 2D…”

Mukuro rubbed her arm again and hummed. She hadn’t been the center of attention like this since the first day; she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Taka,” she said. “Kyoko mentioned you had something for me?”

“Oh, yes!” he shouted, rather needlessly. “Byakuya retrieved your school student profile!” He reached into his uniform jacket and removed a manilla envelope. A white sheet of paper was inside. “I’ve kept it safe from prying eyes since. I’ll admit, however, that I am also curious as to what’s inside.”

Taka handed it over to her rather stiffly, then crossed his arms.

It was only an envelope with a single sheet of paper peeking out of it. It couldn’t have weighed more than a quarter of an ounce… and yet, in Mukuro’s hands, it seemed to be as heavy as the school itself. She watched it carefully for some time, half-expecting Monokuma to fly in and whisk it away, or something equally terrible…

But nothing happened.

Mukuro looked up to Celeste, who hung behind Taka. The gothic girl was regaining her normal detached calmness, but she wasn’t quite back to normal yet. Celeste had a strong poker face, perhaps literally the strongest in the world, but Mukuro could sense the unease radiating off her. The Ultimate Gambler made no approach to make good on their bet from the cafeteria.

She’s afraid of me… If I read the profile myself, right now, she won’t do anything about it.

But…

“Celeste,” she said. “Could you read it aloud for me? I’m… feeling a bit dizzy.”

She held out the envelope. Celeste’s face twitched in surprise, but she regained her footing almost instantly.

“Of course!” she said, and accepted it.

She stepped to the side and faced everyone else. Again, it was a subtle deception, but Mukuro knew instantly that Celeste was positioning herself so that no one else could see the page.

But why? she wondered. She must know I’ll check it after she reads it aloud… There’s no way to lie about what’s on there.

Celeste opened up the envelope with a flourish, pointedly keeping the actual sheet of paper invisible behind it. If she did anything dishonest – used a sleight of hand, scribbled something, or anything else like that – Mukuro couldn’t see it.

Again, Celeste would have known that Mukuro would check the profile as soon as they were done. No matter the quality of her handwriting, it would be impossible to add anything to a typed sheet of paper. To Mukuro, her actions made no sense at all.

Taka and Hifumi were oblivious to all of this, and Celeste seemed to think Mukuro was as well, so she read on without issue.

“Name: Mukuro Ikusaba,” Celeste began. “Sex: Female, Height: 5’7”, Weight: 97 lbs., Blood Type: A, Birthdate: December 24, Chest Size: 80cm—”

“Wait, what?!” Blood rushed to Mukuro’s face. She instinctively covered her already-clothed breasts and turned away from the boys. “Why does a school profile have that?!”

Celeste shrugged.

“Who knows? They probably have those numbers for all of the girls. Shall I continue?”

Mukuro huffed.

“Go ahead.” she said, still a little angry about her lost dignity.

“You are… The Ultimate Soldier.” Celeste’s eyes flit down and down. She began to read something word-for-word, and her tone became a little stiffer and more formal. “‘Although small for her age, she was a military specialist trained in every weapon type imaginable. She showed interest in the military from childhood and soon found herself completely absorbed in it. In elementary school, she won a survival game tournament and began writing for military magazines. Just before entering middle school, while she and her family were on a vacation to Europe, she disappeared. The story of a young Japanese girl being kidnapped quickly took over Japanese media outlets. An intense international investigation turned up no information, and she was never found. However, she reappeared in Japan three years later, alone and completely unannounced. She revealed that she had joined a mercenary group known as Fenrir for those three years. She insisted that she hadn’t been kidnapped, that she’d received battle training of her own volition. However, she never revealed why she decided to return when she did. Despite her time in battle, she has never been wounded, bruised, or scarred.’”

“Soldier…” Mukuro mouthed.

Taka slammed his fist into an open palm. He was saying something, but Mukuro didn’t hear him.

I’m a soldier…

The Ultimate title wasn’t a complete shock. Byakuya’s insults and Toko’s fears had prepared her for something like this, and the second motive video had called her a killer.

What did shock her was the paragraph that followed. To be an expert in military stuff, sure, she could understand that. But she wrote for magazines? She won some big survival game tournament? She was the subject of an international investigation and media circus? She abandoned her family? And even the school, even the famous Hope’s Peak with all of its resources, barely knew anything about her time in Fenrir?

It was simultaneously both more and less than she’d hoped for. She finally knew something substantial of the Mukuro-that-was, but it was only from the perspective of others, and it wasn’t nearly enough to fill the void within herself.

Hifumi’s screechy voice brought her back to reality.

“Miss Ikusaba!” he cried. “I remember that incident! The one about the missing girl! I had no idea it was you!”

“It does ring a bell…” Celeste agreed, tapping her finger on her chin.

“Yes, I followed it closely, as well.” Taka said. “I recall seeing images of the girl on TV. I’m ashamed I didn’t recognize you on sight.”

Mukuro shook her head.

“I… don’t know anything about that,” she said, and gave weak smile. “I guess I was alright, though.”

“Are you really a specialist in all weapons?” Hifumi asked. He was in awe. “This is just like in Blades of Princess Baldra, when the princess…”

He started rambling about some anime Mukuro had never heard of, or maybe it was a manga. She ignored it all, except for the initial question.

I did disarm Leon’s sword, identify that gatling gun, and beat up a robot…

“Maybe.” she interrupted him. “I don’t really know.”

She reached over and plucked the envelope out of Celeste’s hands without asking. She didn’t care about the rudeness. She wanted to see if Celeste had added anything, of course, but what leapt to mind first was the picture. How did the Mukuro of times past dress? How professional and, well, soldiery did she look?

And there she was: the Mukuro of the past. A pale teenage girl whose black hair was parted over her right eye and into two long triangles. She was in a school uniform, a black-and-white one that told her nothing, and her eyes were thin and expressionless. If the girl in the photo felt anything at all, she didn’t show it.

She doesn’t look like a killer, Mukuro thought. *I*… don’t look like a killer.

But Mukuro-of-the-Past also didn’t look like Mukuro-of-the-Present. The old version of her looked so professional, so composed. She seemed so… in control of everything.

Celeste folded her hands in front of her, smiling with that faux-politeness she always seemed to have.

“Well, Mukuro… Taka, Hifumi, I think I’ll take my leave.” She looked up, pretending to think. “I’m a little tired, actually. I may go lie down.”

With that, she stepped away and started back to the girl’s changing room. Taka nodded rigidly, then crossed his arms.

“It’s good to know your capabilities, Mukuro,” he said. “I don’t think we can fight Monokuma, but… it is still to everyone’s great benefit to know our own talents. Perhaps you should inquire with Sakura about—”

Sakura! Now there’s someone who can tell me if I’m an expert in ‘every weapon imaginable.’

“I’ve gotta go.” she said, and ran out.

-----

Like Taka, Hina and Sakura were not among the stealthier of students. One was loud and always cheerful, while the other was a tanned colossus among ordinary-sized people. Tracking them down required only slightly more effort than it took to find Taka, and soon enough, Mukuro was in classroom 2-B.

“Mukuro!” Hina punched the air as soon as she saw who’d opened the door. “You’re up again!”

So many things were on Mukuro’s mind that she honestly didn’t know where to start… But all of that disappeared as soon as she saw who else was in the classroom.

Like the other classrooms, 2-B’s windows were covered by massive steel plates bolted onto the wall. Sakura was by one of them, testing it with her superhuman strength. A bent crowbar was on a desk, who knew where they’d found it, and there was obvious damage to the paint on the wall around the plates. The plates themselves weren’t even scratched, though, and Sakura’s efforts here had clearly been in vain.

More importantly, a third student sat in the back.

Sayaka…

In all the excitement, Mukuro had completely forgotten about her. The idol quietly slumped in a chair at the back of the room, staring at nothing. Her pupils were so small as to be almost invisible, mere tiny dots of dark blue lost in a sea of empty white barely paler than the rest of her blood-drained face. Her hair was unkempt and wild, fraying off in every direction imaginable. Days-old makeup caked around her thin lips and under her eyes, some of which was lost in the black bags she’d gained from an obvious lack of sleep.

If Sayaka had been catatonic before, she seemed barely alive now. Her eyes didn’t so much as twitch when Mukuro walked in, and her chest seemed not to rise or fall as she, presumably, sucked in air. Her hands dangled listlessly to her sides, and it was almost a miracle that she didn’t just slide out of the chair entirely. If she had, Mukuro had no doubt that she would have just stayed on the floor, dead in every way except for breath. She honestly could have been a corpse.

Despite all of this, her clothing was fresh and spotless, and the cast she’d worn around her wrist was gone. Even the cute kitten hairclip was still there. The contrast between her bright, perfect uniform and her numb, glazed-over face was almost nauseating.

She’s killing herself from the guilt, Mukuro knew.

A sallow feeling rose in her gut. How could Sayaka, the girl who’d betrayed Makoto, take his death this hard, while Mukuro had managed to forget about it, however briefly, in just two days? She looked away, as heavy with guilt as Sayaka.

Hina seemed oblivious to what passed through Mukuro’s mind, but Sakura understood it all in an instant.

“Assigning blame to yourselves, or any of us, is pointless,” she said stoically. “The only one responsible is Monokuma.”

“Sayaka…” Mukuro muttered. She still couldn’t face her. “Is there anything we can do to help her?”

“She takes Makoto’s death very harshly,” Sakura’s deep growling turned more sympathetic. “Hina and I hope to return her to some normality, though it will not be instant.”

“I hate Monokuma more than anything!” Hina groaned. “Even when he’s not around, he’s still ruining everything.”

“I take offense to that!” screeched an unwelcome voice. Again, Monokuma was suddenly just there. “How dare you impugn my good name!”

“Impugn?!” Hina gasped. “I don’t even know how to spell that…”

“The G is silent!”

“Why are you here?” Sakura asked, hostility brimming in her voice.

“Why are any of us here?” Monokuma’s voice became wistful, and he looked to the ceiling. “It’s a question that’s baffled philosophers for thousands of years…”

“You know what she meant,” Mukuro growled. “You worthless excuse for a—”

“I just came to tell you that your friend destroyed the girl’s changing room,” He pointed to Mukuro. “You two get the most use out of it, so I thought you’d like to know it’s off-limits until I fix it. I’d estimate it should be… tomorrow!”

Monokuma’s faux-thoughtfulness did nothing to ease the tension in the room. Both Sakura and Mukuro were ready to launch themselves at him.

“Well, anywayyyyyy,” Monokuma shrugged. “I can see you two aren’t in the mood, so I’ll see you all again later.”

He bounced away. Sakura and Mukuro both looked back to Hina, who furrowed her brow and mouthed something.

“I-M-P-U-N-E…” she said silently. “Where’s the G go…?”

Mukuro sighed and looked back up to Sayaka. The latter girl seemed not to hear the conversation at all. She knew that the only thing on the Ultimate Pop Sensation’s mind was Makoto.

“Sayaka…” she said again. “I’m… sorry, too.”

“Forgive us for not visiting you, Mukuro,” Sakura said. “We thought that you would be better served by some time alone…”

“It’s fine,” Mukuro replied. “Actually, I came here to talk to you guys about some something really… well, cool, I guess.”

She launched into an explanation of the last half-hour’s events, starting with the bet with Celeste – Kyoko seemed like she might resent their private meeting being told to others, and Mukuro didn’t want to talk about the motive DVDs anyway. When she finished, she set her profile on the desk in front of her.

“You beat up Monokuma and got away with it?!” Hina cried, breathless and exhilarated. “That’s the most amazingly awesome thing ever! So, what’s your talent?!”

“Read it for yourself.” Mukuro offered.

Hina scooped up the file in an instant.

“The Ultimate Soldier!” she breathed, wonderstruck. Stars were in her eyes. “No way! That’s incredible! And I love your photo here! We should do your hair like it used to be!”

She read the file aloud for Sakura. It was the third time Mukuro had heard it (having it read it privately once after Celeste), and it still teased her just as much as before.

“So, you ran away from your parents to join the military?” Hina asked. For a moment, she seemed to look at Mukuro in a different light. “That’s incredible. Do you remember any of it?”

“No,” Mukuro admitted. She hugged herself for a moment, and was lost in thought. “It doesn’t ring any bells at all… For all I know, it could have happened to someone else.”

“But it says it happened to you!”

“Don’t get me wrong. I believe the profile’s right.” Mukuro shrugged. “But it could have said anything, and I would feel the same way. I ran away from home and fought wars for three years?” Mukuro’s heart sank, and she managed a very weak smile. “I don’t feel anything more like that person than I did before I read this.”

She didn’t add how the idea actually made her feel. Every few minutes, Mukuro still wondered about the girl in the video, her blonde, blue-eyed sister begging for her sympathy and forgiveness. To have had an entire family, and then just abandoned them to go on a crazy adventure…? And could she really have hurt that sister of hers?

“Anyway,” Mukuro said. “I actually came here because I figured there’s only one other person in the school who could test how much of an Ultimate Soldier I really am.”

Hina nodded happily, and turned to Sakura. But for her part, the Ultimate Martial Artist hesitated.

“I mean no disrespect, Mukuro,” she said. “But… are you certain you’re ready? You said during the trial that your back was injured, and Makoto’s death would unsettle anyo—”

“No!” Mukuro shook her head. “I just beat up Monokuma in a rage, and if I am some kind of legendary warrior, then…”

“Oh man, oh man!” Hina leapt up, then started jumping up and down. “Are you two gonna have a sparring match?!”

Sakura crossed her arms. Mukuro did the same. A twinge of excitement sparked within each of them.

“Yes.” they said at once.

-----

Sakura stood just off-center in the gym, motionless. Her arms, each as thick as anyone else’s entire torsos, were crossed, and though her expression was cool and imperturbable, it was easy to read the curiosity in her eyes.

Mukuro stood maybe ten feet away. She was less stoic.

What she’d done in the changing room to Monokuma had been pure instinct. Now that she was actively channeling her knowledge, calling upon it for a conscious purpose, she had no idea what she was doing. She tried to summon that martial arts stance that had let her beat up their captor, but all she managed was something out of a Hollywood movie. Her feet were apart, her fists were raised, and she hunched slightly to shrink her profile, but… she could just tell that this wasn’t quite right. Maybe this would be enough against someone else who didn’t know how to fight, like Leon or Hiro or something, but against the world’s greatest martial artist, and a giant almost a foot higher than herself? Never in a million years.

Will my instincts return if she comes at me?

Mukuro licked her lips. Imagine what that would represent. If her fighting skills could return when appropriate, could her other lost knowledge do the same?

Hina and Sayaka sat on one of the bleachers to the side, the former of whom was stuffing what looked like three donuts into her face at the same time. The latter still stared off into space, her eyes unfocused in the vague direction of the stage. On the other side of the bleachers were Celeste, Hifumi, Taka, Leon, and Hiro. The boys all spoke with each other excitedly, pointing at one or the other of the girls on the floor, while Celeste sat apart, twirling a finger through her hair and half-ignoring the scene.

Mukuro wasn’t quite sure what she thought of having an audience, but there was no way to ask them to leave anymore. At least Byakuya, Toko, and Kyoko weren’t there to watch her potential failure…

As if on cue, the double doors to the gym flew open. Toko came in first, and held the door for the Ultimate Affluent Progeny behind her. She let the door close as soon as he was in, but Kyoko slipped inside anyway. Mukuro sighed.

“How did you all even hear about this?” she demanded.

“Word spreads fast when the world’s just twelve people!” Taka bellowed. “And since there’s not much else in the way of news, so does your Ultimate talent.”

Mukuro shook her head.

“I meant, why is everyone interested in us fighting?”

“‘cause what else is there to do in this school?!” Hiro yelled. “I’ve got a bet of two-thousand yen on Ogre, by the way.”

“Hiro!” Sakura growled. “You dishonor the name of martial arts. You will retract that wager with whomever you made it with.”

Hiro laughed.

“No, no, no, I’m just joking!”

But then Hiro leaned over to Leon, and the way they whispered, and the blue look on their faces, said otherwise.

“There’s something else to consider,” Byakuya said, grinning. “Up until now, Sakura has been the only person who could just kill anyone without a plan or a weapon. When the next person decides to become Blackened, it’ll be important to know whether or not you’re a good target.”

Hina huffed as she stared him down. She probably would have shouted something at him, but her habit of stuffing donuts down her face made her momentarily unable to respond. With no one else to challenge him, Byakuya took a standing position in the corner of the gym, away from the bleachers and everyone else. Toko joined him at a slight distance and wrung her hands back and forth. She was sweating and nervous – clearly far too upset for just watching a simple martial arts sparring match. In fact, she was barely paying any attention at all.

Wonder what’s on her mind?

Last to take a position was Kyoko, who settled down on the Hina-Sayaka side of the bleachers.

Some moments passed. Mukuro awkwardly tried to stretch, pushing out one leg and pressing her weight against it, but Sakura remained cool.

“I also would have preferred a lack of audience, save perhaps Hina,” she said. “Are you still comfortable?”

“I guess,” Mukuro half-lied. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Eventually, Mukuro finished her useless stretching. She jumped from one foot to the other, uncertain of what would come next.

“Sakura,” she said, swallowing. “Don’t go easy on me. The worst that could happen is you bruise me or something.”

Sakura closed one eye, then smiled.

“I thought your profile said you’d never been wounded before?”

Mukuro couldn’t help but grin.

“Heh… I guess it did.”

Mukuro nodded, then took back up her martial arts stance.

“I guess… I guess I’m ready when you are.”

Sakura nodded almost imperceptibly, then finally uncrossed her arms. She faced slightly to the side from Mukuro, then brought up two hands at chin- and waist-height. The din of the others’ voices muted.

Sakura made the first move. She came up slowly, enough so that Mukuro could have escaped if she’d wanted to. Carefully, the Ultimate Martial Artist threw her first punch.

A test, Mukuro knew instantly.

It wasn’t fast enough to do any real damage, and it came at an awkward angle. Even a novice could have dodged it, and Mukuro’s body moved out of the way automatically.

Sakura’s next punch came ever-so-slightly faster. Mukuro twisted her body out of the way without even thinking.

Next, Sakura tried a low kick. Mukuro heard the others gasp as her feet leapt off the ground, over Sakura’s leg, and connected straight in the center of her mass.

Sakura fell back, clearly more surprised than injured. She paused for a moment, then nodded.

She threw another punch, this one faster. Mukuro’s hand intercepted it and knocked it off-target. Another punch. Mukuro weaved under it, and was as surprised as everyone else when her hand turned into a fist and smashed Sakura’s shoulder.

“Rrgh!” Sakura growled.

The attacks came faster and faster, but Mukuro could tell that Sakura still wasn’t being serious. Each punch or kick came just slowly enough that it would hurt, but not bruise, and that made them easy to dodge or block. She waited for a few seconds, effortlessly backing up or ducking to the side to evade the attacks, then grabbed her by the wrist, twisted behind Sakura’s back, and grabbed her opponent by the waist. Without thinking, Mukuro lifted two-hundred-something pounds of weight, heaved it up into the air, and threw Sakura ten or fifteen feet.

Screams and gasps. Mukuro ran forward at the same speed her victim flew, and just before Sakura hit the floor, she jumped up and delivered a perfect flying kick into Sakura’s stomach. The tan giant went flying again, this time into a bleacher near Kyoko.

Metal and plastic exploded. Mukuro raised her hands to her lips, terrified that she’d gone too far, and others started screaming about the nurse’s office.

Sakura jumped out of the wreckage of the bleacher, only slightly bruised. She watched Mukuro for a moment, then grinned.

This time, Sakura did not hold back. Mukuro dodged the first punch, but only barely. It whizzed by her head with enough speed and force to certainly break her nose had it struck true.

A second punch, then a third, then a flurry. Mukuro evaded or blocked them all, each of her arms and legs moving on its own, each one with its own mind and purpose that she couldn’t keep up with. Her hands and feet would automatically punch or kick back when it was time, and Sakura would dodge or block each one. Trying to think about anything consciously would have disrupted her body’s instincts and spelled the instant end of the duel – for this was no longer just a test.

Seconds passed, then a full minute. Fist met air, open palm met wrist, and each strike by either girl missed its target by a half-inch or less. Mukuro still didn’t really understand what was happening, but something in her mind warned her:

Sakura is better than me.

It would have been invisible to any observer, but Mukuro and Sakura both knew it. They were both sweating, but Mukuro’s responses to Sakura’s relentless assault came less and less frequently. This duel would last for minutes, or even an hour, but in the end, the Ultimate Martial Artist would win a fistfight with the Ultimate Soldier, and there was nothing that could change that fact.

A glint of light shimmered on the bleacher Sakura destroyed. Mukuro’s eye caught on several thin metal tubes that had been the skeleton of the seats. Each was about two or three feet in length.

Her body maneuvered around Sakura, and she leapt backward and onto the undamaged bleacher above it. Hina said something, but Mukuro’s only attention was on those metal tubes. She kicked one up without thinking, and when it reached waist-height, she spun and struck its end with her foot.

It rocketed forward like a missile. Sakura’s eyes went wide, and she barely escaped to the side. The spear – and that’s what it was – went flying across the full length of the gym. Someone screamed, and Mukuro’s weapon went straight for Hiro’s head. He didn’t have time to dodge out of the way, and—

Leon pushed him at the last second. The spear sliced through two of Hiro’s dreadlocks, then penetrated the wall.

“Wooooaaaarrghhh!” Hiro screamed. He fell off the bleacher, then curled into a ball.

“Oh my God!” Mukuro’s heart leapt out of her chest. “No, I—”

Sakura was on Hiro in a second. She kneeled over him and pressed a hand to his head.

“He is alright,” she said. “Merely scared.”

Mukuro ran over. Hifumi, Leon, and Celeste pulled back in fear, the last of whom was wearing the same expression as when Monokuma had started beeping before the explosion.

“Oh my God, Hiro, please, I—Sakura!” Mukuro babbled. “I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t… I didn’t…!”

“I am uninjured,” Sakura rumbled. “And Hiro…” They looked down to Hiro, who was still in a fetal position. “He will be alright.”

“I… I don’t know…” Mukuro grabbed her head. “I don’t—I didn’t—”

“Tch!” Byakuya turned away and made for the door. “Dangerous psychopath.”

“No!” Mukuro whimpered. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“That would have killed Sakura, had she not been the world’s greatest martial artist, or Hiro, if not for Leon saving both of your lives.” he replied. He didn’t look back at her. “Guess you’re even with him for that incident with the sword, huh?”

“But… I…” Mukuro teared up. She looked back to the metal tube buried halfway into the wall. It would be impossible to ever remove.

“You didn’t even have the decency to make the trial interesting.” Byakuya finished.

The rest of whatever Mukuro was trying to say came out as an incoherent garble. The world turned into a blurry haze, and she ran to the door. A watery shape that could have been Byakuya stepped to the side, and Mukuro pushed her way out, and was gone.

-----

Mukuro sat, pressed herself into the corner, and buried her face in her knees. She wasn’t even sure what room she was in, but it smelled dusty and had small spaces to hide in. She sniffed, weeping quietly, and hoped that no one would find her. Her eyes were bloodshot again, and her throat was as tight as it was during the trial. It was hard to breathe.

It had all happened so quickly. Her body had just operated on its own, and now everyone was afraid of her. And what’s worse, they had every right to be. No – it would be crazy for them not to be.

Her tears cleared for a moment, and she saw her hand. That damn Fenrir tattoo. She wanted to claw it off. That first day Byakuya had seen her hand, he’d freaked out and started sweating. The others had given her the benefit of the doubt, and she’d sent their good graces hurling across the gym and toward a Hiro’s head. It was only Leon, of all people, who’d averted disaster.

All that contempt they’d had for him, and he was the hero between us…

At length, she allowed herself to look up. She was in a room filled with shelves and shelves of books.

The library, she thought. Someone mentioned a library…

It was very small, though, and a lot of stuff was scattered haphazardly on the floor. Cardboard boxes full of blueprints and unorganized books were everywhere.

She craned her head left. There was a row of books at knee-height, perfect for a girl sitting on the floor. She read some of their titles.

Case 78-13 – Kobayashi Twins… Case A412 – Watanabe Murders… Case 8001 – Ito Murders… Genocide Jack Serial Murders – TOP SECRET…

She frowned, then turned to her right. This other row was full of files.

Sato Clan… Kuzuryu Clan… Yamaguchi Clan…

These were yakuza clans, she knew.

Sheer curiosity momentarily overwhelmed her. Those terrified faces the other students had worn disappeared from her vision, and Mukuro stood up to examine more shelves.

It wasn’t long before she realized that this wasn’t the library – it was an archive. An archive of secret or even criminal information. She picked a file at random and read the scrawling handwriting on its cover.

Toshi Bank Conspiracy

She opened it and was greeted by an array of complicated math equations dealing with (she thought) finances, faraway photos of important-looking men in black suits, and a map of Japan with pins in various cities. The dense numbers were too much for her to read, but from what she could guess, this looked like someone’s effort to prove an illegal conspiracy orchestrated by a banking syndicate.

She placed the file back where she’d found it and took another one at random from a different shelf. This one was about a South American dictator being assassinated. Another file. This one was about how a passenger jet suffered an “accident” while transporting a politician. Another file. This one was about a mercenary company in Southeast Asia, the Rakshas…

She gasped.

She dropped the current file and grabbed everything from that row. More mercenary companies, more professional assassins…

But nothing about her company. Either this archive didn’t have anything about Fenrir, or it had been removed before she’d found it.

Disappointed, she slipped back onto the floor and ran a hand through her hair. For the first time since the gym, she felt completely sober. She wanted to ask the obvious question, which was why a room like this existed at a school, but something else was on her mind:

I almost killed two innocent people today.

It was the most important, horrible fact in the world, and she’d let herself forget it. How terrible could she be? Was it possible to make it up to Hiro and Sakura? Was it possible to convince everyone that she wasn’t a ‘dangerous psychopath,’ as Byakuya had called her?

She sighed. She wasn’t crying anymore, but dry tears still stained her cheeks. She got up again and moved to the door.

This door led into the library itself. Another one led, presumably, into the hallway. She must have run through this place without even registering what it was.

The library looked exactly as she expected it to. Shelves of books towered over her, daring her to spend the rest of life reading their contents. These books were normal, though: mundane histories, simple fiction, and the like.

Her eyes caught on a simple, well-worn book in a corner. There were three words on its spine: WILDERNESS SURVIVAL GUIDE.

There was something about it that triggered Mukuro. She plucked it off the shelf. The cover was nothing but those three words over an image of a forest. There wasn’t even an author’s name.

Something in the back of Mukuro’s mind was turning on and off. She flipped to a random page. The edges of the paper were torn here and there, and small stains covered up some of the words, but it was still easy to read.

If the bear does not move toward you, move away slowly and sideways. This allows you to keep an eye on the bear and avoid tripping over objects you do not see behind you. Bears are not threatened by sideways movement, unless it is toward a cub. Do not run.

By the third sentence, Mukuro was mouthing each word she’d read before she read it.

If the bear pursues you, stop and hold your ground. You cannot outrun a bear. Bears will chase fleeing animals more easily than they will approach ones that stand their ground. Do not climb a tree. Except for polar bears, most common bears can climb trees. Most bears are not aggressive enough to attack a human unprovoked, again with the exception of polar bears.

“Leave the area and take a detour…” Mukuro said softly. She kept reading; that was the next sentence. “If this is impossible, wait until the bear moves away on its own. If there is only one escape route, do not take it until the bear leaves first.”

By the end of the paragraph, Mukuro was certain she’d read the entire book before, maybe multiple times. She flipped to the interior cover of the book, hoping she might even find her own name scrawled in it. There was nothing – but she still knew that this book or one like it had been given to her once upon a time.

She slipped it into her jacket to read again later.

There was a desk in the center of the library. A few hand-selected books were piled on its corner, brought there by some bored student.

Byakuya or Toko… she thought. No one else seems like they’d read much except Kyoko and Celeste, and they’d probably clean up after themselves.

There was a laptop on another desk. She stepped over to it and pressed the power button. Nothing happened.

Broken…

She watched it sadly. Chihiro might have been able to fix it, but…

Lastly, there was an envelope on a short shelf of books. The paper had yellowed over time, but the top was ripped open. A sheet of paper peeked out of it.

She picked it up and read it:

From the Hope’s Peak Academy Executive Office

Throughout the years, we have been committed to shaping the youth who will one day shape the world. We have a long, proud history as an institution of higher learning with full governmental support. However, Hope’s Peak Academy must now lower the curtain on its glorious history, for the time being. This decision was not an easy one to make, but serious issues beyond our control have made it necessary. But make no mistake – this is not the end for Hope’s Peak Academy. We intend to reopen our doors as soon as the issues forcing our closure have been resolved. And I would like to personally and sincerely thank everyone for your help and support over the years. That being said, it is the end for now… And I would like to personally and sincerely thank everyone for your help and support over the years. For now, we are awaiting official governmental authorization to formally cease operations…

“It’s real.”

Mukuro flipped around. Kyoko was in the library doorway.

“It was covered in dust when we found it,” she continued. “It’s at least a year old, too.”

“Kyoko…” Mukuro started. “I… I don’t…”

“What do you think?”

“Of the letter?” Mukuro asked, exasperated. “I don’t—”

“Tell me.”

She huffed, annoyed.

“Maybe whoever’s controlling Monokuma took over the abandoned school, and trapped us all here… though, that doesn’t explain why no one knew that Hope’s Peak had shut down.”

Kyoko smiled.

“You figured that out faster than Byakuya did.”

“Does everyone hate me?” Mukuro asked. She didn’t care about the letter at all.

Kyoko took a moment before responding.

“You should avoid Hiro for a bit,” she admitted. “You should also go and thank Leon for saving… well, both of you. Sakura isn’t angry, though. She and Aoi are worried about you. They’re searching the first floor.”

“And you’re searching the second floor… alone?” Mukuro looked away. “No one else wanted to look for me, huh?”

“You should come get dinner.” Kyoko said.

“Dinner?” Mukuro looked to a nearby clock. It was 7:00 PM. “God…”

“Come on,” Kyoko said, and Mukuro let herself be led away.

-----

The cafeteria was incredibly awkward, even more than Mukuro would have guessed. Hina, Sakura, and Sayaka sat at a table in the corner, and everyone else sat far away from them, except Byakuya, Toko, and Kyoko, who weren’t present. Mukuro knew why; those three and Kyoko were the only ones who’d let her sit with them… And Sayaka was only because she was still catatonic.

Mukuro desperately wanted to go over and thank Leon for saving Hiro’s life. She looked over, and the redheaded baseball player yelped and skid behind the rolls of Hifumi’s fat. A moment later, Hiro did the same – less Mukuro’s heart sank, and she looked down at her plate. Someone had fried up enough chicken for the entire class. Mukuro had come last, and so had had the last choice. Hers was only lukewarm.

“They’re all idiots,” Hina growled. “Everyone knows you didn’t mean it.”

She could still feel everyone’s eyes on her.

“They’re not idiots,” she said quietly. “If anything, that just makes it worse.”

“Mukuro,” Sakura said. Her voice was as gravely as ever, but she clearly made an effort to be soothing. “They do not know you well enough for their judgments to hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have spent my entire life fighting,” Sakura said. “Almost from the moment I could stand. I am the heir to a dojo with three-hundred years of history. I mean no arrogance, but I know all there is to know about unarmed combat, including the art of understanding a person through it.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about this!” Hina said excitedly. “You’re talking about reading someone’s instincts by seeing them in action?”

“Yes,” Sakura confirmed. “And you, Mukuro…” Mukuro shied away, suddenly afraid of what she might hear. “You are the most conflicted person I have ever fought.”

Mukuro choked on a piece of her dinner. She looked up into Sakura’s gray eyes, but said nothing.

“Within you is a roiling sea of emotion,” Sakura continued. “I cannot imagine the pain of losing yourself the way you have – and then of losing Makoto, as well. Two untoward tragedies, each of them enough to break many people on their own.”

Mukuro’s eyes darted to Sayaka. All that was left of the original girl, the excitable, passionate, charismatic idol who could charm anyone in a minute, was this ghost.

She sighed.

“What about me, as a person?” she asked.

Sakura took a moment before responding.

“I am uncertain,” she confessed. “I…”

She trailed off.

She has something to say, but not in front of Hina or Sayaka…

“I would risk my life to protect anyone here,” Sakura said. “I think that I would even give it, were it necessary.”

“Even Byakuya?” Hina murmured, stuffing a donut into her face.

“Even Byakuya,” Sakura said. “It is what I would expect of anyone whose pursuit is of combat as a way to better themselves. The sport of martial arts can be a noble one, if the one who learns it is noble themself…”

Mukuro understood instantly.

I lack that honor…

She’d already known it, though she lacked Sakura’s ability to express it in words. No one who learned to fight for a genuine love of the sport would have instinctively tried to kill someone just because she was losing.

“I’m sorry, Sakura…” Mukuro whispered.

“Do not be sorry, at least not to me.” she said. “I would not be the Ultimate Martial Artist if I could be so easily slain. Apologize to Hiro, and yourself.”

Again, Mukuro understood instantly. Whatever combat skills she had, she didn’t learn them for any noble greater purpose, like Sakura. Both the student profile and Mukuro’s own intuition told her the same thing: that she’d become an expert in killing people just because she thought it was fun.

To Sakura, that had to be almost an insult. But Hina’s eyes were filled with stars again.

“You guys are amazing! Who would’ve won that fight in the gym, anyway?”

Sakura. Mukuro thought. If I hadn’t flipped out…

“Who can say?” Sakura responded diplomatically, though she certainly knew the truth. She reached down to pick up her cup, then frowned. “Damn,” she growled. “I forgot to get more protein powder.”

“Protein powder?” Mukuro asked.

“Oh, that’s right! You don’t know about the warehouse!” Hina laughed. “There’s a warehouse that opened up after the trial. It’s got everything, and an endless supply of it, too. Clothes, food, laundry stuff, bags, tools, sports equipment – it’s amazing. You could live off it for a billion years.”

“Unfortunately, its protein powder is cheap swill,” Sakura said. “But it is better than nothing.”

“Sakura,” Hina said. “You go get more powder with Mukuro, she hasn’t seen it yet. I’ll stay here with Sayaka.”

“Are you sure, Hina?” Sakura asked.

“Of course! Go on.”

Mukuro looked up to Sakura. There was no explicit reason to refuse, but… It was so awkward, the idea of spending time alone with someone she’d almost killed.

And truth be told, Mukuro had never really spent time alone with Sakura anyway. Her friendship with the giant was mostly through Hina.

“Come,” Sakura said.

Mukuro shifted uncomfortably, but if Sakura herself invited her, there was no good way to escape. She stood up and scarfed down the last of her chicken.

-----

The warehouse wasn’t far from the cafeteria. Following Sakura, Mukuro only needed to round two corners to reach it. They said nothing as they walked.

This led them to a long, empty hallway. It terminated with another sliding gate. Behind it was an inaccessible staircase to the second floor of the dorms. To its side was another door.

“The warehouse.” Sakura said.

Mukuro’s skin crawled. Was Sakura studying her even now? Was she prepared for another attack? No matter what she’d claimed, Mukuro knew that Sakura would have been killed by that spear in the gym.

She’s only human, Mukuro thought. And humans hold grudges…

Mukuro swallowed, then pushed open the door.

Hina hadn’t lied: the ceiling reached up fifteen feet or more, and there were rows upon rows of shelves overflowing with every object you could ever need to survive, and a thousand cardboard boxes of who-knows-what. They really could live off of this for a lifetime, if not quite Hina’s claim of a billion years.

“According to Monokuma, it restocks each night,” Sakura said.

Mukuro hesitated, so Sakura entered first. She moved to a shelf against one of the walls and toward a row of carefully set blue bottles. Mukuro couldn’t read their labels from the door, but they were, presumably, the protein powder. The bottles were high enough that a normal person would have had to stand on their toes to reach it, but to Sakura, they were at eye-height.

“Barely better than water,” Sakura said. “I wonder if this is a joke by Monokuma?”

“He’s made jokes before,” Mukuro responded. “At least to me, he makes them all the time.”

“His very existence is a joke.”

They stood in silence for a second. Then Sakura scowled.

“That… was meant to be a joke, also.”

Mukuro snorted.

“Well, neither of us is the Ultimate Comedian, at least.”

“Indeed.”

Mukuro’s heart was beating fast.

“Sakura,” she said. She wasn’t sure where the word came from, but… “Am I… a terrible person? You must have sensed how easily I could have cut someone down there. And in my motive DVD, Monokuma said I’ve killed people before, and I know he’s telling the truth.”

Sakura did not respond instantly.

“Is that your only evidence for being ‘a terrible person?’”

“Well… earlier, I played a card game with Celeste, and told me my ‘rank’ had gone up with her. I don’t know if I like her approval, either.”

Sakura crossed her arms.

“That is poor evidence, indeed,” she said. “All I can say for certain is that I was surprised by your performance.”

“Because I tried to kill you?”

“No,” Sakura shook her head. “Because I did not expect to find a fighter of this caliber at Hope’s Peak. I am… immensely pleased.”

“Really?” Mukuro blinked. She felt a little better.

“I had resigned myself to the idea that I would have to practice alone. I feared I might lose some of my skills.”

“Then… you still want to spar with me?” Mukuro didn’t mean to, but she started smiling.

“Of course.” Sakura slid one eye closed, then smiled back at her. “To ensure everyone survives, both of us must ensure our skills are turned toward purely noble purposes.”

This was the first time Mukuro had really believed that Sakura held no grudge – in fact, how could she have even thought someone like Sakura even could hold a grudge? This was the world’s greatest martial artist, strong in body, mind, and spirit, and her honor…

It was beyond question.

“I… feel for Sayaka,” Sakura said. That was an unexpected subject to broach, and Mukuro was momentarily confused. “The motive Monokuma gave her compelled her to murder, and her betrayal of Makoto almost destroyed her. I know she will dwell on the past. I hope she can look toward the future.”

Once again, Sakura’s meaning was clear:

She worries I’ll do the same thing.

Mukuro hugged herself. It was easy, so easy, to fall into that same trap as Sayaka. She looked away, burning with shame. By chance, her eyes caught on a series of boxes on a bottom shelf. The word TRACKSUITS was written on them in blocky text.

Mukuro pulled one out at random. It was pink, and a size too small, but beneath it were dozens more, each in a different color. She dug through them without thinking, and pulled out a blue one with yellow stripes. She held it against her body, over the clothes she’d been given by Hina and Kyoko.

The future… or dwelling on the past…

She thought of the Mukuro in the student profile. The one who looked so clean and professional, but who’d killed people in war, had instincts like murdering someone with a spear, and who’d beaten up her sister…

Mukuro still wanted her old memories back, but…

“I shall give you a moment,” Sakura said. “I’ll wait outside.”

She stepped into the hallway, and Mukuro was alone.

Since the first day, all Mukuro had had to wear was a patchwork of Hina’s and Kyoko’s clothes. But these tracksuits, as simple as they were, could be hers.

-----

Mukuro stepped out of the warehouse feeling like a changed woman. Her black track jacket fit her even better than the donated clothes had, and she’d rolled up the sleeves to help make it more her own. This also made her the only girl in the school to wear pants. Digging through the warehouse had yielded yet more treasures: pairs of black sneakers and new white underwear. Right now, Mukuro wasn’t wearing a single thing owned by another student.

The only word she knew to describe what she felt like right now was… fresh.

“I see,” Sakura said. “It suits you.”

Mukuro blushed. What Sakura didn’t know was how much time she’d spent agonizing over colors. Mukuro knew anything bright or energetic, like yellow or pink, would be impossible for her to pull off. In the end, she’d settled on black-with-white-stripes.

 Hanging from her shoulder was a bag of ten more identical tracksuits, as well as Hina’s and Kyoko’s old clothing. She’d return all of the borrowed clothes tonight.

“Thanks.”

Sakura nodded, then turned back for the cafeteria. Mukuro hurried to catch up.

Just before she rounded the corner, Mukuro realized that something felt wrong to her. She frowned, and looked back to the warehouse door—

And saw Monokuma. He stood there behind the gate to the second floor, watching her. His arms were at his sides, and for once, he was silent.

Chapter Text

Sakura stepped back into the cafeteria. Mukuro wasn’t far behind. They’d only been gone for twenty minutes or so, but in that time, everyone had left save for Hina, Sayaka, Leon, and Hiro.

Hina gasped, leapt up, and ran to them as fast as she could. Her eyes were alight with excitement. She jumped around Mukuro, examining each angle of the new tracksuit. Finally, when she was done, she pumped her fist and grinned.

“I love your new clothes, Mukuro!”

Mukuro blushed.

“Thanks…”

“It’s super awesome that the warehouse had something that fit you so well! It’s like a whole new Mukuro!”

Mukuro raised a hand and scratched the back of her head. She smiled, still blushing, and looked away. By chance, she turned to the table.

For the briefest instant, the blue of Sayaka’s eyes seemed to flicker toward her, then back to the empty vacuum they normally watched. Her hands, body, and face remained still, and it was over so quickly that Mukuro wasn’t even sure it had happened at all.

She opened her mouth to ask Sayaka a question, but Hina, oblivious to all of this, just grabbed her hand and hauled her over to the table. She started babbling about who-knew-what, but Mukuro was only paying attention to their silent companion. Yet, Sayaka made no further movement.

If she’d even looked at me in the first place…

With a grunt, Sakura twisted open the top of her bottle of protein powder. She dumped a few spoonfuls of it into her cup. To Mukuro, the powder looked almost indistinguishable from a pile of brown dust… Certainly, it looked horribly unappetizing. It could have been her imagination, but it even seemed to smell bad.

She must have made a face without realizing it, because Sakura nodded sadly.

“As I said before, this is cheap swill,” she growled. She poured a pitcher of water into the cup, and the water turned a nauseating shade of brown. She dipped the spoon into the cup and swirled the concoction. “I would call it an insult by Monokuma, but the rest of the material in the warehouse is generally of decent quality.”

She drained the glass over the course of a few seconds. Mukuro frowned and looked back to Sayaka. Behind her, at the other table, were Leon and Hiro. Ever since the former had saved the latter’s life, the two had spent all of their time together. They had nothing in common as far Mukuro could tell, and she certainly wasn’t invited to their conversations, but her actions had still definitely helped spur on a friendship.

Leon… I owe him… probably everything in the world.

She stood up. Without a word to Hina or Sakura, Mukuro swiftly stepped over to the other table. Leon and Hiro both squirmed as she approached. The former managed a horribly nervous plastic smile, but the latter pushed his chin onto his chest and sweated profusely.

Mukuro had been prepared for these reactions. But she’d made a decision.

I’m going to be better, she thought. I’m going to be a new person, and that involves settling the scores of the old Mukuro.

Despite this, her heart was beating probably even faster than the boys’.

“Leon.” she said evenly.

The redhead squeaked. A bead of sweat trickled down and over the scar on his cheek.

The scar I gave him.

“Uh… yeah?” he asked. Somehow, his voice cracked several times during just those two syllables.

Mukuro laid herself on the floor and bowed to him. She couldn’t see anyone’s faces, but she could hear a few surprised gasps.

“Thank you so much, Leon.” she said, holding back tears. “I almost made an unforgivable mistake, and it was only your fast reaction that stopped it. You… You saved Hiro’s life, and you also saved mine. That night with the sword, you said you never intended to hurt Sayaka, and I doubted you, and…”

Her voice trailed off into a choking whisper. It was alright, though. She wasn’t sure where she would have gone anyway.

Leon didn’t respond. After a while, she dared to look up. He was still sitting in his chair, completely flummoxed. Across the table, Hiro looked down at her. He was also shocked. He pulled a hand behind his head and scratched, and Mukuro felt even worse under his gaze.

“Hiro,” she said. She shifted to face him, but didn’t get up. “I could have killed you. I would have killed you. I… can only say I’m sorry. I understand if you still hate me.”

Hiro pursed his lips. Eventually, he shook his head.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he said. “Like, Mukuro, it’s not… Look, you don’t gotta…” He frowned. “Jeez, don’t be all heartfelt like that, man, it makes you hard to talk to or whatever.”

At his prompting, she stood up. Her eyes trained on the part of his dreadlocks that the spear had cut off. Both boys, she realized, had been marked by her in some way.

“Hey, Mukuro!” Hiro said, smiling. “Tell you what, I’ll forgive you if you let me to do a reading of your future!”

“Really?” she blinked.

“Yeah! That’s just the kinda guy I am! You know what? I’ll even let you pay after we get outta here.”

“Hiro!” Hina screamed from the other table. “I can’t believe how awful you are!”

“It’s 100000 yen for a reading!” Hiro finished, ignoring her, then he gave a thumbs up.

Well, if the price of his forgiveness is a literal price…

It wasn’t quite the response she’d hoped for, and so she didn’t exactly flush with relief, but she smiled all the same.

“Okay,” she said, a little more energetically than she’d meant. “I just want to make things okay between us.”

Leon was looking away. He rolled his chin across his chest, then nodded.

“It’s fine…” he said. “Everyone knows you didn’t mean it. And if I’m being totally honest, it gave me a chance to show off in front of everyone. So, it’s okay…. As long as it never happens again.”

“Never!” Mukuro promised. She nodded several times. “Never, never.” She looked up toward one of the ceiling lights, and imagined for a moment that it was the sun. “From this moment on, I’m going to be a new, better person.”

-----

Ding dong bing bong

“Mm, ahem, this is a school announcement. It is now 10 PM. As such, it is officially nighttime. Soon the doors to the dining hall will be locked, and entry at that point is strictly prohibited. Okay then… sweet dreams, everyone! Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite…”

Mukuro yawned as she entered her dorm. She stretched her right arm, then her left, and kicked the door closed behind her. A moment later, she tossed her new bag of tracksuits onto the floor. She could deal with hanging them up properly tomorrow.

Part of her still felt guilty. It gnawed at her, the idea that she could have felt any happiness or relief so soon after Makoto’s death, or even at all. That part of her told her that Sayaka had the right of it; that there was no other way to truly pay homage to Makoto except to totally give into despair.

Mukuro looked over to the God of War charm he’d given her. It was still on her desk, sparkling under the ceiling lights. She picked it up, then ran a finger over its surface. It was a simple paper charm marked with stark black ink. She closed her eyes, and felt the ink from the paper, traced her thumb over it and imagined the symbol.

God of war…

She was the Ultimate Soldier, and though Makoto hadn’t lived long enough to learn that, his one gift to her was a reminder of that fact. A reminder of him. A guarantee that his spirit watched over her, and Sayaka, and the others.

It suddenly felt very heavy in her hands. Mukuro’s eyes popped wide open, and she almost dropped it. It could have weighed a thousand pounds. This was too great a burden. What was there to do with the last worldly reminder of Makoto Naegi?

She opened up the drawer with her sewing kit, then buried the charm underneath it. A few seconds later, the lights were off, and Mukuro was naked in her bed.

The world was so much lighter.

-----

Be a new person, be a new person, be a new person…

Mukuro chanted this to herself as she opened her dorm’s door. She didn’t quite feel like a better person, and images of Makoto’s death and Hiro’s near-death still flashed occasionally in her mind, but she did feel a little better.

She stepped out into the hallway wearing a new, clean track jacket. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she was ready for this new morning. No one else was in sight, so she headed for the cafeteria. Along the way, she stretched her right arm. That made her catch sight of the Fenrir tattoo.

She slowed her pace. Unconsciously, she ran her fingers over the tattoo’s edges.

This damned wolf has done nothing but cause problems.

She stretched and pressed her skin for a while, distorting the image as much as she could. But no matter what she did, it was always still clearly a wolf, and its name was always still easy to read.

At last, Mukuro sighed and looked up. She gasped with surprise. She was at the door to the warehouse. Her body had taken her here without thinking, knowing before she did that this place would have something that could help her: a pair of gloves. She’d already returned Kyoko’s clothing, and she’d never really taken advantage of the pair loaned to her.

She threw open the door to the warehouse, happy and confident in her purpo—

“You little bitch!”

“Eeeeeeeekkkkk!”

A small mountain of clothes, boxes, bottles, bedsheets, glassware, detergent, umbrellas, and God-only-knew-what-else rose out of the center of the room. The two shelves around it, each nine feet high and normally bursting with products, were almost empty. Even what remained on them was still spilled or on its side. So much was on the floor that Mukuro couldn’t even see behind the mess, but she could definitely still hear the two people on the other side.

“How dare you, you stupid fucking little—”

Mukuro darted forward. Her hand caught one of the empty shelves at neck-height, and she lifted herself up and over the heap of material. She landed on the other side without an issue.

Celeste jumped back, surprised and frightened at her sudden unexpected entrance, and slammed into Hifumi. The fatter boy was on his knees, his hands raised in a pathetic begging motion. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t seem aware of Mukuro.

“Please, Miss Ludenberg, I didn’t mean to—”

“Mukuro!” she stammered, very out-of-character. “What are you doing here?”

Mukuro bit the inside of her cheek. It didn’t look like Celeste or Hifumi were about to get violent with each other. Hifumi’s eyes opened once her name was mentioned, and he paled and started shaking.

“Uh… I just wanted to check for some gloves,” she said, a little happy that that was actually the truth. “What happened here?”

Celeste scoffed, then swallowed, hard. A tiny bead of sweat rolled down her forehead.

The stupid spear incident…

No! This was a perfect opportunity to prove how much of a normal, non-dangerous, non-psychopath she was. Mukuro stepped back, then consciously made her hands fold behind her waist. She was pretty sure this would be as nonthreatening as possible.

The effort seemed to work. Celeste took a moment to regain her composure, then twirled a finger around one of her pigtails and mocked disinterest.

“I made the mistake of asking Hifumi to help me move something.” she said, simply.

Hifumi’s eyes darted between the two girls, trying to judge which of them was the greater threat. Eventually, he settled on the gothic one.

“No, Miss Ludenberg,” he pleaded. “I didn’t—”

“Oh, shut up!” she snapped. One of her eyes bulged with hate and rage. “How clumsy and useless can you be?!” She turned back to Mukuro, completely pleasant. “There was a beautiful black china tea set decorated with white flowers, but I couldn’t reach it on the high shelf. Hifumi decided the fastest way to remove it from that height was to knock everything off of both shelves.”

Hifumi burned red, and looked to the ground. Mukuro actually felt sorry for him. Then she realized—

“Wait,” she said. “Celeste, I saw you drinking out of a black tea set yesterday, why do you need another one?”

The Ultimate Gambler raised the back of her hand to her lips, then laughed.

“That one has red flowers on it,” she explained. “This one has gray flowers. They’re completely different.”

Mukuro pursed her lips and looked over the room. She wasn’t even sure how Hifumi had done this. It really looked like a tornado had passed through these shelves

All this destruction for an extra tea set…

“Huh…” Mukuro muttered. “You know, I was right outside the warehouse a second ago, and I didn’t hear anything.”

“It could be that the warehouse is soundproofed, like the dorms…” Celeste cooed absently.

It’s also soundproofed…

Hifumi interrupted Mukuro’s thoughts by gasping in delight. He dug his hands into the pile, then wrestled out a cardboard box. Half of it was wet and corrugated with some blue liquid, probably laundry detergent, and the other half had been crushed by some invisible object within the trash.

Quickly, but unsteadily, he opened the top of the box and peeked inside.

“Look, Miss Ludenberg!” he squealed. “See? The china isn’t damaged.”

Both Celeste and Mukuro craned their necks to see inside. By some impossible miracle, the delicate tea set had survived falling seven feet and being smashed by fifty or more pounds of material. Mukuro’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe it.

Celeste’s own reaction was more muted. She regarded the tea set for a few seconds, then looked away.

“I see,” she said, rather abruptly. “Very well, come along, Hifumi.”

She started away from the pile of junk, intent on rounding the other end of the shelves. Hifumi stood up, beaming with pride.

“Wait!” Mukuro said. “Why do you need Hifumi to lift a tea set for you?”

Once again, Celeste scoffed.

“Look at that box,” she groaned. “I wouldn’t touch it with a pole. He can carry it to my room like the good little Rank-E he is.”

“Rank-E?!” Hifumi sobbed.

It was true, though. The box was disgusting. The blue liquid dripped onto Hifumi’s hands and underneath his fingernails. It would probably take minutes of scrubbing to get his skin clean again, and Celeste would be lucky indeed if the tea set wasn’t permanently stained. Furthermore, the wetness made the cardboard almost fall apart. Hifumi had to scoop it all into his arm and cradle it like a baby, rubbing the liquid thoroughly into his jacket and shirt.

A few seconds later, Celeste had made her roundabout path out of the room. Hifumi trailed behind her, offering pitiable apology after apology.

Mukuro watched the giant pile of trash for a few seconds. A single thought passed through her mind:

Glad I’m not in charge of cleaning that.

A minute later, she was out in the hallway. In the far distance, she could see Celeste opening her door, and Hifumi following behind, still carrying the ruined box. He hovered a hand underneath it and his arm, trying to catch all of the disgusting drips of the blue liquid.

Mukuro pushed the two of her mind, and looked down to the pair of fingerless black gloves on her hands. They looked so cool, and they finally banished that stupid wolf, but there was a new problem she hadn’t considered.

Black jacket, black pants, black gloves… Maybe I’m overdoing it with the black…

She paused, then looked back into the warehouse.

Nahhh!

-----

“No way, no way, no way!” Hina slammed her hands on the table. Half a donut bounced into the air and landed in Mukuro’s orange juice.

“I did not mean it as an insult or challenge, Hina,” Sakura offered. “I retract the statement.”

“There’s absolutely no way you’re doing that!” Hina fired back.

Mukuro grimaced, then pushed her ruined drink to the side.

At least my cereal’s still un-donutted.

She raised a few spoonfuls of it up to her lips before that could be compromised, too.

The cafeteria was completely full that morning, and the argument attracted some attention. Almost every head turned to watch, though Mukuro noticed a few of them were still cautious of her. The only exception was Sayaka, who still sat at their table, breathing slowly and looking at nothing.

“The cafeteria is not a place for screaming!” Taka screamed. “Explain yourselves.”

Hina pumped her fists, then angrily pointed straight at Sakura.

“Sakura said she could run the length of the pool faster than I could swim it!”

Byakuya rolled his eyes.

“What a waste of time. Go have your inane debate elsewhere.”

Toko leapt in as soon as he took a side.

“Y—yeah! You two should… g—go away!”

“I’m sorry, Hina,” Sakura said again. “I was only speculating—”

“No way!” Hina slammed her hands on the table again. This time, Mukuro’s drink jumped up, and spilled into her cereal. Bits of donuts and orange liquid contaminated everything. “We’ll have to have a race to settle this!”

A smile tugged at the edges of Sakura’s lips.

“I see.” she said. By the tone of her voice, it was clear she’d already agreed to the idea.

Mukuro tapped a finger on the edge of her bowl. It seemed to her that it was much easier to run than to swim, and that anyone on Earth would be faster on land than in the water. Furthermore, Sakura was easily the most athletic person in the school. The pool was, what, one-hundred feet long? Sakura could probably cover that distance in a few seconds.

But… if anyone in the world could beat that time in water, surely it would be the Ultimate Swimming Pro.

It would probably be an interesting race to watch. Mukuro was looking forward to it.

“You wanna go right now?!” Hina was trying to mock indignation and offense, but it was obvious that she was excited at having an excuse to flex her skills.

“I see no reason not to.” Sakura nodded.

Hina moved her hands to her hips, then laughed. A moment later, she jumped in surprise.

“Oh wait, Sayaka!” She turned to the blue-haired girl sitting next to her. That entire conversation had passed, and nothing had changed in the idol’s bearing. “We can’t bring her with us.”

“What?” Mukuro blinked, and leaned over the table. “Why not?”

“Recently, Monokuma added a new rule,” Sakura explained. “Perhaps you didn’t know. It says that we can’t loan our e-Handbooks to anyone else. As she is now, Sayaka can’t scan hers on the door, and we can’t scan it for her while she’s still alive, or else it will count as her breaking the rule.”

“Yeah!” Hina groaned, allowing the noise to die off in the back of her throat. “‘Cause of that dumb rule, Sakura and I haven’t been able to check out the changing room or gym at the same time yet.”

Mukuro almost asked “Can’t you ask someone else to watch her,” but caught herself. They definitely couldn’t ask Celeste, Toko, or Byakuya. Leon had an obvious bad history with her. Hifumi was a definite no-go. Hiro was too unreliable, and Taka too strict and unrelenting. Besides Mukuro, all that left was Kyoko, whose motives and goals always seemed to be a little too mysterious.

“I’ll hang out with her,” Mukuro offered. “You guys go do your race.”

Hina looked uncertain about the proposition, but she didn’t reject it outright. Instead, she poked a finger into her cheek, then carefully responded.

“Are you sure?”

Mukuro looked over. Sayaka stared on ahead, her face still ghost-white and her spirit still destroyed.

I’ve never actually spent time with her alone…

“I’m sure.”

Hina turned one hand into a fist, raised the other into an open palm, and punched it.

“Alright! Sakura, c’mon.”

The two girls exited a second later. Moments afterward, Kyoko went into the kitchen with an empty plate. When she came back out, she left the cafeteria without a word or acknowledgement of anyone else’s presence.

The others filed out on their own over the next few minutes. By 7:45, only Mukuro, Sayaka, and Taka were left. The last busily scribbled a report into his logbook.

“Another breakfast – successfully conducted!” he announced blithely.

Mukuro couldn’t tell if he was telling this to her, or to the room itself. Either way, he followed the others a second later.

Mukuro looked back to Sayaka. She was just… so shattered. The light within her eyes was just gone. Her waifish idol figure seemed to have lost weight, and her lips had drained of any color. Her hair was mostly straight, the happy kitten hairclip was still set, her old makeup was washed off, and her clothes were brand new… but she was beginning to stink. Mukuro guessed that Hina or Sakura had helped groom her to look as nice as possible, but that neither could force her to shower.

She reached over and waved a hand in front of Sayaka’s face. There was no response. She frowned, then examined Sayaka a little more closely. The girl’s lips were very parched, and Mukuro could only think of that time in her bed when she’d tried to starve herself to death. Kyoko had rescued her then. Had she done it because she would rescue anyone, or just because Mukuro was useful? Or had she owed her something? Did she… did she expect Mukuro to do the same, here?

Would it help to talk about Makoto?

What Mukuro wouldn’t have given for the Ultimate Psychologist right then. Sighing, she ran over to the kitchen, making sure to look back at her charge every few seconds, and fetched a pitcher of water, a glass, and the nearest untouched food item she could find, which happened to be a croissant. When she returned, Sayaka hadn’t moved an inch. Mukuro sat down next to her and poured a glass of water.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” she offered.

No response. Very lightly, Mukuro poked a finger into Sayaka’s cheek. Again, she didn’t stir, but Mukuro was surprised to find how warm her skin was. It was so easy to forget that Sayaka was still, well, alive.

As slowly and obviously as possible, Mukuro put a finger on each of Sayaka’s cheeks, then pressed. Automatically, the idol’s mouth opened. Strands of half-dry saliva ran from lip to lip.

Very uncertainly, Mukuro raised the glass of water. She was careful to move in such a way that she could retract the glass at the first sign of protest or annoyance. But Sayaka’s eyes just kept staring off into space.

The glass went clink when its lip connected with Sayaka’s bottom row of teeth. Mukuro tilted it up, and water poured inside.

For a moment, she thought the water was just going to stay there in her mouth, splashing around her tongue and molars. It would dribble out and onto her new jacket, and Mukuro would have to take her to her dorm and find a new set of clothing. Or perhaps Sayaka would just stay there, perfectly still, and allow herself to drown from half a mouthful of liquid.

Instead, to Mukuro’s surprise, she actually swallowed it. She did so with the least amount of energy possible, of course, and her muscles seemed to barely move, but it did go down her throat.

“Sayaka!” Mukruo said, thrilled. She looked up and into her eyes—

There was still nothing in there. The process of drinking had just been mechanical. Mukuro was disappointed, but this was at least something.

She broke off a corner of the croissant, then gently set it on Sayaka’s tongue. A moment passed, and then she swallowed it.

And so, the next few minutes went by this way: Mukuro would raise a piece of food or the glass an unfeeling mouth, and Sayaka’s body would do the rest. By the end, when only the last bit of croissant was left, Mukuro was almost making a game of it. She pulled the bit between her middle finger and her thumb, then flicked it with her forefinger from a foot away. It arced through the air and landed perfectly in Sayaka’s mouth, and the idol obediently swallowed.

Sayaka was little more than a robot; programmed to handle a single task in a very specific way, but utterly unable to act outside of that constraint or to think on her own. Even the act of eating and drinking didn’t seem to have any effect on her except, presumably, to keep her alive. If she was still inside that body, she must have been trapped in a deep, dark place indeed.

Another minute passed in silence. Mukuro tapped two fingers on the table, then looked to the hallway outside of the cafeteria. She truly was sympathetic to Sayaka, but… she was also getting a little bored. Surely it would help to take her somewhere, right?

Come to think of it, she wasn’t actually sure how Hina moved her from room to room. She doubted Sakura would just carry her everywhere. They had to have some kind of system for getting her to walk on her own, but they’d neglected to mention it to Mukuro.

“Sayaka, do you want to go hang out somewhere?” she tried.

Of course, there was no reply. In fact, Sayaka’s mouth was still hanging open. Guilty for having forgotten about that, Mukuro quickly pressed a finger to her chin and shut it closed.

Still unsure of what to do, she moved a hand on top of Sayaka’s. It was almost a surprise when she felt warm skin and pumping blood. Their fingers interlaced, and Mukuro instinctively stood up and pulled.

She almost jumped back when, bit by bit, Sayaka’s legs moved. After what seemed like an eternity, Sayaka hefted herself to a standing position. Her eyes still looked at nothing, and she wavered back and forth on her feet, ready to collapse at any moment… But she actually had moved under her own power.

Mukuro stepped back and pulled. Sayaka obeyed, and lurching forward unsteadily. Mukuro raised her hands, thinking that she’d have to catch her—

But Sayaka maintained her footing, and Mukuro knew that she could take her anywhere.

-----

It was exciting to have Sayaka on her feet again, but Mukuro quickly realized that she had nothing to actually do with her. They hadn’t really been friends even before Makoto’s death, save that one connection in the trial.

What did Sayaka like? What were her dislikes? What made her feel good, and what made her feel bad?

Not that I really know much of those things for myself…

It was surprising to realize how little Mukuro knew about the world-famous idol, which made it hard to think of an activity to do with her. She led Sayaka though the halls, hand-in-hand, patiently letting her wobble back and forth, her mind and spirit as devastated as ever. They entered classrooms and the gym, but Mukuro was never really sure what to actually do, and Sayaka never spoke up. Mukuro actually wouldn’t have minded checking out the library again, maybe reading aloud a little bit, but she didn’t dare try moving a catatonic person up the stairs.

Finally, if only because there was nowhere else to go, the two girls entered the student store. She knew it was her imagination, but Mukuro could smell Makoto here.

“Ahhhhh, doesn’t it just smell like him?”

Mukuro whipped around, pulled her hand out of Sayaka’s, and brought them both up into fists. Monokuma stood behind them in the doorway, smiling.

“What’s this?” Monokuma cocked his head and stared up at her. “It looks like one of my dear students is thinking about kicking me in the face again! What, did you want to join the Karate Club? … because we don’t have one.”

Mukuro scoffed.

I could take twenty of these stupid robots. Thirty! A hundred!

It wasn’t an exaggeration. She was the Ultimate Soldier, and after the incident with Sakura, Mukuro was pretty sure she really could fight an army of Monokumas and live.

… if there was a reason to, and if she didn’t have to worry about Sayaka. Her eyes flashed over to the other girl, who just stood there, still staring off, still making no attempt to defend herself.

When Mukuro looked back to Monokuma, there were three more of him standing in the doorway. These three had a set of steel claws extended from each paw. Their faces were stuck in that same stupid smile the bear always wore, but she knew that right now, it was a taunt.

Mukuro bit her lip hard. She hated to give in, but she would have to play his game for now. She dropped her hands to her sides, then led Sayaka to lean against the store counter and face toward Monokuma. Finally, she turned and sneered down at their captor. The other Monokumas were gone.

“Why are you here?” she asked. Spite dripped from her voice. “Do you have nothing better to do than bother me?”

“Nope!” he replied cheerfully. “But actually, I do have something else to do while I bother you.”

As he’d done many times before, he dipped a paw behind his waist and pulled something out. This time, it was a brown bag about the size of a fist. Mukuro barely had a chance to see it before he tossed it over to her. She caught it automatically, and felt a number of small, solid discs inside. They jingled as she pressed her fingers to them.

“What’re these?” she asked suspiciously.

“What kinda question is that?!” Monokuma laughed. “You know they’re coins! What, did you get conked over the head when I wasn’t looking?”

“I meant, what are they for?” she asked, more irritated.

“Jeez, what kinda education must you have had to not know what coins are for? I guess Fenrir Middle School skipped out on the economics class, eh? Okay, listen up! Money can be exchanged for goods and services, and—”

“God, shut up!” Mukuro squeezed the bag so hard that the top came open. Indeed, she could see some seventy or so bronze coins inside. “Why are you giving them to me?!”

“Finally,” Monokuma shrugged. “Took you three tries to ask a decent question! The coma patient over there didn’t even ask me one dumb question, and her brain doesn’t even work. Lobotomies! Maybe I should bring in an expert…”

He stamped over to the counter, then jumped on top of it. He was too close to Sayaka for Mukuro’s comfort, but there was nothing she could easily do about it.

“Well,” he continued. “I thought I’d award some coins after each trial, you know? For a job well done, that sort of thing. You could buy presents from the machine over there, give them to your classmates, grow closer and friendlier, all that kinda stuff to make your communal life here more comfortable.”

Mukuro’s eyes flickered to the machine in question. She remembered it now—it was where Makoto had won the very kitten hairclip Sayaka still wore.

“Are you giving these coins to everyone?” she asked.

“Oh, no! Imagine if I did that! Again, economics, economics! If you flood the market with too much currency, the value of any individual coin will drop proportionally! But my machine still gives you a prize for each coin you put in! I’d bankrupt myself in a day! No, it’s only one student who gets these. Go ahead, give it a go.”

Mukuro squinted. Unsure of how Monokuma would react if she refused, she slowly raised a coin into the machine, then pulled the lever. Lights on its sides flashed, and then a capsule fell into her hands.

Inside was a black video game system with a red screen. A label on the top said FUNPLANE. A cartridge was inserted into the back, but she didn’t bother checking the name of the video game. She just stuffed the whole thing, and all of the coins, into a pocket of her jacket.

“Why me?” she muttered.

“Well,” His evil smile seemed somehow to grow wider. “Makoto seemed the most protagonist-y of you, but since you killed him—”

The scream burst out of her throat before she could stop it.

“I didn’t kill him!” she roared.

Her voice echoed out into the hallway. When it disappeared, there was silence for several seconds. Then Monokuma just shrugged.

“Didn’t you?” Monokuma asked. He poked his chin with his paw. “I don’t know about that! You were the one who got him convicted for murder. You could’ve easily gotten him off scot-free, if you’d really wanted to.”

“I hate you so much!” Mukuro snarled. “I swear to every god, someday, I’ll rip your heart out of your chest, the real you, the person controlling this stupid robot!”

“And to think,” Monokuma continued, ignoring her threats. “You betrayed Makoto after he tried to get all of you out of here.”

Mukuro was about to fire back with another insult, but that…

That was too specific.

She knew it could only lead to more pain, but she had to know.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked warily.

Monokuma jumped over to the machine, then sat down on top of it.

“I know you might be unsure if ‘luck’ is real or whatever,” he began. “But let me assure you: it is. I promise you, it absolutely-100%-totally is. I know because I saw it in action. Did you know? In this machine is a very special item. It’s called an Escape Switch.”

Monokuma kicked the machine with the back of his foot.

“If you press it, something interesting will happen, and you can open up that big ol’ door in the front of the school, the one with the guns pointing at it. Anyone can leave whenever they want! Sort of a self-graduation, if you get my meaning.”

Mukuro snorted.

“Obviously there’s a catch.”

“Nope! The only ‘catch’ is that the Escape Switch has a 0.00000001% chance of showing up. I know you’re very stupid, so that means a 1-in-100-million chance. There aren’t even one-hundred-million Monokuma Coins to play with, so believe me, no one was more surprised than me when it popped out of there. Turns out that not even I, the great Monokuma, can control the Ultimate Lucky Student. You taking him out for me,” He raised a paw, then extended a claw like a finger gun. After a moment, he pulled back the claw, as if in a shooting motion. “That was actually a major help, so thank you!”

“Why even include an item like that?” Mukuro spat. “What, did you just want the excitement of being able to lose, but not have to actually worry about it being a real chance?”

Monokuma went silent for a moment. Even his exaggerated movements went still. Mukuro’s eyebrows leapt up, and she realized, to her shock and dismay, that her random insult was exactly right.

Monokuma instantly realized his mistake. He knew that she’d figured that out, too.

“Heehee!” he swept his paws up into the air. “Sometimes you’re less of a disappointment than I expect… though, not often.”

I need to know about that Escape Switch!

Monokuma, or perhaps the person operating him, seemed to respond to Mukuro differently when she did something unexpected, or when there was an opportunity to antagonize her. If she just asked about Makoto and the prize, she’d never get a straight answer…

She crossed her arms and turned to the side.

“Maybe there is an Escape Switch,” she allowed, keeping her voice steady. “But you never said Makoto won it. I bet he never saw it, or even knew it existed.”

“Wrong!” Monokuma bellowed. “Wrong, wrong, wrong! Makoto Naegi definitely won that switch, and he definitely used it right away!”

“Liar,” Mukuro said, not actually believing her own words. “If that was true, he’d have told us all, and we’d be back in our real homes by now.”

Monokuma froze again. He knew she was trying to play him. The only question was if he’d let her.

“Is that a fact?” he asked, tapping his foot on the machine. “Is-that-a-fact? But you forgot one possibility. What if he got betrayed?”

“No one would betray him.”

“Miss Maizono would,” Monokuma said, and he swept a hand toward her. “Or did you forget? In fact, Makoto won that escape switch the very day she hatched her plan to kill Leon and escape. And the next day, when you were alone with Makoto, he realized your true identity.”

“I don’t have a ‘true identity!’” Mukuro protested.

“I know you think that’s true, but like I said – bears don’t lie. Makoto did press that button, then Sayaka came to his room to switch so she could kill Leon, and the next day, he did realize that you were pretending to be someone you’re not. Then he saved your life. He put his life, and everyone else’s lives, in Mukuro Ikusaba’s hands, and got betrayed. There was one chance to escape after that switch was pushed, and because of her, everyone is still here.”

“That’s a lie!” she screamed. Saliva jumped out of her mouth and splashed on his face. “That’s a damn lie! I remember that day perfectly; all we did was hang out!”

“I know!” Monokuma giggled. “I know, and you’re telling the truth! But… so am I! They’re both equally true!”

Mukuro steamed. Was that possible? Even ignoring the fact that she would never betray Makoto, the logic of Monokuma’s statement obviously didn’t track.

But…

She knew he was telling the truth, even if she didn’t understand how it could be.

“Poor, poor, Makoto,” he laughed again. “In his hour of greatest need, Mukuro failed him – twice. And now you’re stuck taking care of a girl who can’t even eat properly. Just wait until she needs to go to the bathroom!”

Mukuro looked over to Sayaka.

This time, the idol’s eyes really were looking back at her. There was no mistaking it. She was still trapped in that dark place within her own mind, but Monokuma’s words had pulled her out of that prison, if only slightly.

Mukuro’s heart started beating fast. Sayaka’s guilt had overwhelmed her for days. Snapping her out of her reverie was important, but not the way Monokuma was going to do it.

Was he waiting for me to be alone with her?

Mukuro was suddenly possessed by the absolute certainty that she needed to get both herself and Sayaka away from him. She grabbed her classmate’s hand, and found, to her shock, the slightest resistance.

It was nothing she couldn’t handle, of course. Sayaka was still weaker than a child. Mukuro could have lifted her up and carried her out bridal-style, if she’d wanted. But a catatonic person trying to refuse at all was almost too shocking to believe, and it made her hesitate for a moment.

“It’s almost cute,” Monokuma teased. “You sacrificed Makoto to save yourself, and now you want to feel better by taking care of the girl he wanted instead of you. Mm!” He pretended to blush. “You aren’t thinking of horning in on that action yourself, now, are you?”

Mukuro stared into Sayaka’s eyes, uncertain of how alert the girl was. Did she understand what was happening here? Even Monokuma seemed not to know, even as he just kept talking and talking.

“Heehee! You want her to stay this way, don’t you?”

“No!” Mukuro protested. “I want her to be normal again! I want to be her friend!”

“‘Friend?’” he chided. “Mukuro Ikusaba didn’t have friends.”

“Well, she does now!”

Monokuma cocked his head again, this time turning it so far that it was parallel with the floor.

“I don’t know about that,” he challenged. His voice was more serious than it had been before. “I can see you’ve put on those stupid little gloves to hide your Fenrir tattoo. What kind of lame excuse for a disappointment tries to hide what she is without understanding it herself?” He jumped down onto the floor. “Or did you regain your memories when I wasn’t looking?”

“I know what I am.” she fired back. “I’m Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier.”

Monokuma said nothing for a moment. Mukuro imagined that she could hear whatever mechanisms kept turning inside his head.

“Are you?” he said quietly.

Mukuro’s blood was boiling by this point.

“What the hell does that mean?” she snapped.

“Exactly what you think it does.” Monokuma’s normal mirth and faux-affability were gone. He sounded completely genuine, a tone that did not at all mix with his screechy, aggravating voice. “I would think that’s almost a relief to you, isn’t it? You tried to reject Mukuro just yesterday with those new clothes, and today with those gloves, and just now, with that statement. Wouldn’t it be much easier to reject her if this was all some big mistake, and you were someone else all along?”

The blood rushed out of Mukuro’s face. She was shaking, and her hand fell out of Sayaka’s. All of her confidence evaporated, and she shrank against the counter, reduced to a timid, helpless little girl.

“Y—you’re just m—messing with me.” she squeaked.

“Do you want that to be true?” Monokuma asked, his voice perfectly even. “Maybe I gave you someone else’s e-Handbook. Maybe that tattoo is a mistake. You don’t have any of Mukuro’s memories, after all.”

“N—no!” Mukuro shuddered. Her vision went hazy. “Liar! I—I know I’m Mukuro Ikusaba. Th—there’s a photo of me in my student p—profile!”

“The photograph attached by a paperclip?” he asked. “The profile Celeste, the master of sleight of hand, had access to first?”

Mukuro gasped, and pushed her hands over her lips.

“I was able to f—fight Sakura to a standstill!”

“Did you really?” Monokuma’s voice was still even. “Maybe I’m blackmailing Sakura into being a spy in your group, and I told her to lose to you on purpose.”

“N—no! Kyoko was there. She’s s—smart, she would have noticed if I w—wasn’t really good at fighting!”

“Maybe I’m blackmailing Kyoko, too. In fact, ‘Mukuro,’ do you want a hint? Byakuya has already guessed there’s a spy, because he’s not a complete idiot like you, but what he doesn’t know is that when Makoto pulled out that Escape Switch, there were already two different spies in your class, both working for me.”

“You’re lying!”

“Nope,” he said, and the fact that he didn’t use that ‘bears don’t lie’ statement made the bluntness of his denial sting even more. “And you know what else? Neither of my spies are dead yet.”

Mukuro choked up. She shook her head from side to side.

“L—liar…”

“Maybe you’re the girl in that video you saw,” Monokuma offered. “The innocent, beautiful blonde one on the bed…”

“Stop it!” Mukuro jerked away from the counter, and then hugged her shoulders and pushed against the wall. Her throat was on fire, and her words came out as a hideous shriek. “Stop it, stop it, stop it! I know you’re lying!”

“Why do you want me to be lying?” Monokuma asked, completely reasonably. “Why do you want to be the Fenrir mercenary who murdered scores of people? Why do you want to have beaten the tar out of your sister? Why do you want to be able to murder everyone here you’re your bare hands? Why do you want t—”

He paused for a moment almost too quick for Mukuro to notice, as if he was somehow conflicted. Then his paws fell to his side. He seemed like a completely different person, like a completely different character. That smile was still on his face, but the emotion was gone from his voice.

“Let me show you who Mukuro Ikusaba is.”

An electric hum buzzed out behind Mukuro’s head. She flipped on her heels, still crying and barely able to breathe, and saw—

The monitor on the back wall. It was crammed in between so much merchandise and dusty garbage that she hadn’t even noticed it before, but now its screen flickered to life. For a moment, there was static. Then…

A beautiful woman was tied to a chair with metal bands. She looked twenty or twenty-two, and her long red hair was pulled into a thick ponytail kept in place with lacey headpiece. A white apron covered most of her body. Her eyes, green and gorgeous, were pried open with circular pieces of metal. Tears streamed from each of them, and she was in great distress, sweating and screaming and trying in vain to pull away or close her eyes. Every one of her muscles strained visibly, cutting her skin against the shackles.

The room was mostly dark, but a row of computer screens in front of her provided a colorful glow. From the camera’s position, it was impossible to see what she was being shown, but it obviously horrified the woman.

“Please…” she whimpered. Her body tried to heave over as she sobbed, but a metal band around her neck held her in place. “Please, stop, stop…”

Mukuro’s body wouldn’t move. She was crying, too, as hard as the woman. Not just because of how awful the scene was, but because, in the back of her mind, each second of this scene coalesced into a memory she already had, something unlocked through the amnesia. She mouthed along without thinking.

Mukuro, unmistakably Mukuro Ikusaba, the girl in the photograph, appeared behind the woman. She wore a black skirt and a nice white blouse with a cute red bow just beneath the collar. She was reading a small handbook.

“Let’s see,” she said, slightly bored. “In this situation… From the outside…”

Mukuro-of-the-Video looked down on the woman, and Mukuro-of-the-School saw her, too. In her mind and on the screen, the helpless, doomed woman begged for mercy, and an image flashed to the mind of Mukuro-of-the-School, who saw the woman both on the screen and in her own memory.

Mukuro-of-the-Video reached behind herself, and Mukuro-of-the-School mirrored the image, like a puppet following its master. She pulled out a pair of thin metal spikes, and Mukuro felt their coldness, their hardness, their sharpness.

“Stop this!” begged the woman.

She raised them over Chisa’s head—

Chisa

Measured their placement over her luxurious red hair—

Got to get this juuuuust right…

And plunged them in through the skin and the skull.

Chisa howled in agony, and then delight, as the spikes dove into the pleasure center of her brain. Mukuro raised one, lowered the other, then reversed the process. Chisa’s eyes went even wider, pink streams of blood trickled down her cheeks, and the last of her resistance faded as her body was forced into an orgasm. Again, and again, and again, and again, her weeping eyes unable to look away from the screens. Even her screams died out, replaced only by an incoherent gargling sensation.

It would have been better to do this the proper way, like with the others, but if Mukuro had to lobotomize Chisa, to erase the thin line that separated pleasure from despair, then so be it. The problem was that this was just sort of boring. She started thinking about other things while she worked.

Pizza tonight?  she hummed. Bacon, or pineapple…

The screen went dark, but Mukuro still saw Chisa’s head, still saw her wide, terrified eyes, and her lips pulled back in ecstasy and pain, still knew that the Ultimate Housekeeper would join the Ultimate Despairs…

Minutes passed, but she never snapped back to real life. Instead, the memory faded by degree over agonizing degree, allowing the grim reality of bright trinkets and useless baubles to take its place. This could have been the memory, and the screen reality.

Mukuro was still moving her hands up and down, imitating—or reliving—what she’d done in the video. Even when she saw what surrounded her, even when she understood that Chisa was gone and her hands were empty and her entire body was caked with sweat, Mukuro still lived half inside that memory, this newest, cruelest chain to the life she’d had before this amnesia.

Or was it her memory at all? Had Monokuma somehow given her someone else’s thoughts? Which was the worse option?

Tears and sweat mixed into a single liquid, then streamed into the corners of her mouth. She smelled and tasted vomit. Automatically, her hand turned into a fist and slammed against her heart. For the first time in half a minute, her throat opened enough for her to breathe. The sharp, fresh air was like a knife in her chest. She collapsed onto the counter, then wheezed for what felt like hours.

By the time she opened her eyes, Monokuma was gone. One other person still remained. Sayaka’s arms still hung limply at her sides, and her body was still listless and weak. Her skin was still ghostly pale, and she was still trapped in that dark prison within herself, unable to communicate with the world.

But there was something in her eyes now that hadn’t been there before. However much in a dream of guilt and despair Sayaka was trapped in, she had still seen everything.

Chapter Text

Sayaka stared listlessly into space, seated at the table farthest from the door into the cafeteria. Behind her, Mukuro propped up another chair and ran a comb through locks of blue hair. She raised it up, then brought it down, then up, and down, and up again, her actions as lifeless as her would-be friend’s. Sayaka’s mind was trapped within her own body, but Mukuro’s was a thousand miles away. Neither of the girls spoke; neither could speak.

Mukuro knew her body was weak and trembling. She knew she was ghost white and covered in sweat. She knew that the acrid stench of vomit still hung around her tongue, and that her feet and toes were fiddling around, pushing against each other and the chair legs. But she couldn’t feel any of it. She was an observer in her own body, an operator who sent signals by radio and numbly watched the response from a faraway sterile room. The only thing she could think about or feel for real was Monokuma’s words.

For a split second, she poked her head over Sayaka’s shoulder. The lines on the idol’s face had grown into deep chasms, and the blue pinpricks that passed for her irises stared right back at her. A bit of drool trickled out of her lips and dribbled off of her chin. Whatever despair Mukuro felt, it was but a drop in the ocean compared to her ward’s. There was nothing behind those eyes except a mindless void of self-hate.

“What’s going on in there?” Mukuro heard herself whisper. “What do you remember? What do you think?”

She would have given anything for a second opinion.

Maybe you’re the girl in that video you saw, the innocent, beautiful blonde on the bed…

Mukuro swallowed, and sensed, rather than felt, that vomity taste choke down her throat. Did she even want to be that girl on the bed? It would be a relief to not be a monster, but that would deny her even a name. She’d spent less than a day feeling like she knew herself, grasping onto that slim bit of hope that she could be a decent person after all, a girl who just helped her friends and that was it. Even then, ‘Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier’ was the only thing she could latch onto, a single rock jutting out of rapid of confusion and self-doubt, and she was loathe to surrender it.

Maybe I’m blackmailing Sakura into being a spy in your group…

At least that was impossible. Sakura was too noble, too honorable, and too proud. Monokuma was definitely bluffing there, but he had confirmed the existence of a spy. His game there was obvious, but Mukuro still had no idea who could be a spy, or who could be trusted even if they weren’t. And worse yet, Monokuma had implied the existence of two spies…

A pang of anger surged through her, the first real emotion she’d felt since the school store besides fear. She had to do something, anything. She had to take some kind of decisive action… but what was there to do? What was there to try? The only thing worse than this situation would be following Sayaka into her catatonia.

I’d give anything for an enemy to fight.

Mukuro’s thoughts were interrupted by a hideous, discordant sound, like some kind of metal monster screaming in agony. She rushed back into her body, that faraway numbness instantly gone, and accidentally crushed the comb. She twisted around in a panic, afraid that the world might be ending.

Instead, she saw Leon in the far distance, just entering the cafeteria. In his hands was a huge electric guitar, colored black and white and red, that he held awkwardly. He looked down at it, face scrunched up in confusion and dismay, and clearly paid no attention to where he was walking. If he kept in his current direction, he’d trip over a chair for certain.

“Leon!” she shouted, half to help him, and half to stop him from strumming the strings again.

He looked up in surprise, then made his way over. He hesitated when he came close to Sayaka, obviously uncomfortable with her.

“Heya, Mukuro,” he said slowly. He kept his eyes on her unresponsive charge. “How’s it goin’?”

“I’m just hanging out with Sayaka right now.”

To enter such a bluntly normal conversation so soon after all that introspection was almost painful, but Mukuro managed to conceal her discomfort – that, or Leon was simply very oblivious. He opened his mouth, and by the expression on his face, she knew he was going to say something unkind about Sayaka. He caught himself at the last moment, then snorted. He settled on:

“Good of you to do that.”

She did try to kill him, she allowed. Come to think of it, this is the same group of people as that night…

Mukuro tossed the ruined comb over into a nearby trashcan. At least there were no swords here.

Leon leaned up against the table, his attention still focused on the guitar. He tested another of the strings. If it was possible, he’d somehow managed to play that single chord wrong. Mukuro cringed backward and made a face, but he didn’t notice.

“Like the axe?” he asked proudly. He swung the guitar so Mukuro could get a better look of it. “Think I’ll name it… Red Flame.”

The girl named ‘Corpse Warblade’ was in no position to judge that… but she did anyway.

“It looks like a good guitar,” Mukuro said diplomatically. “Did you find it in the warehouse?”

“Sure did!” Leon gave a thumbs up grinned ear-to-ear. “First good thing to happen in this stupid place.”

“Are you a musician, too?”

“I’m a musician, only.” Leon shot back. He adjusted one of the tuning pegs on the instrument’s head, but he was definitely doing it randomly. “All that baseball stuff isn’t me at all.”

Mukuro furrowed her brow.

“Do you mean… you don’t like baseball?”

“Hate it,” he sneered, voice dripping with contempt and hate. “I hate the shaved heads, I hate being in the pit with a bunch of sweaty guys, I hate the practice… Only thing I don’t hate is how it got me into a fancy school on a scholarship, and even that landed me in this prison.”

He strummed another few cords and conjured up the most hellish sound on Earth. Sayaka’s mindlessness mercifully guarded her from it, but Mukuro almost wanted to throw up when she heard it.

“But…” he continued, not noticing her gritted teeth. “I’m just really good at baseball. The best in the world, I guess. Didn’t ask for it, didn’t work for it, but people begged to play, so I played, and it got in the way of my real destiny: punk.” He scoffed. “Music’s the best.”

Mukuro had never really given Leon any thought before. The only thing she really associated with him was that time in the dorm with the sword, so he’d always come across to her like some kind of hotheaded idiot trying to dodge responsibility. She presumed he was very good at baseball, but otherwise, he’d seemed like one of the least impressive, least interesting people here. But…

Hating what he is, wanting to be something else, and being completely talentless at it…

It wasn’t quite a connection to Leon that she felt, but it was something. For a second, he seemed almost like a reflection of herself: an oblivious, redheaded, kind of stupid mirror. She wanted to know more.

“Why do you like music?” she asked sweetly, hopeful that it would somehow provide insight into herself.

Leon rubbed the back of his head, then shrugged.

“There are a few things I did like about baseball,” he admitted. “And, like, what if I could get those things some other way, right? Like, the girls.”

“The girls.” Mukuro said flatly, suddenly questioning her curiosity in this boy.

“Oh, yeah,” Leon rolled his head back and bellowed out laughter. “I’ve gotten to third base in more ways than one, know what I mean? But there’s this one girl at the hair salon, smokin’ hot, you wouldn’t believe her body, but she only dates musicians! Girls love musicians.”

As if to emphasize his point, he tilted the guitar down at the ground, then beamed and struck a pose.

Mukuro’s heart did not flutter.

“When I came to Hope’s Peak, I was hoping I could somehow transition my talent, right? Go from being the Ultimate Baseball Star to the Ultimate Musician.” He spat. “But obviously, that’s not gonna happen now, so my only hope is to practice while I can, and become a famous musician once I’m outta here.”

Mukuro pouted, unsure of what to make of Leon. His motives were so transparent and childish, but they weren’t really harmful or cruel. He was unreliable and a bit of a dunce, but his instinct had been to save another student in peril. He clearly hated Sayaka for her premeditated murder, but held no grudges against Mukuro for stopping him from killing her, giving him a scar, or the spear incident.

For the briefest moment, the epiphany struck Mukuro that calling someone a mirror was unfair, that reducing any person to a single word like that was a disservice to them both. She saw the tiniest inkling of how complex a person might be, of how a whole universe might unfold within someone she barely knew, how anyone might have conflicting emotions dividing themselves, and yet learn to survive and become better. Most of all, there was the hope that a single action, no matter how terrible, might not forever define them…

Then Leon strummed another few notes on his guitar unprompted, and Mukuro’s body tensed up, and her skin broke out in goosebumps. She almost vibrated out of her chair.

“The great thing about punk is that you don’t need to be good at it,” Leon babbled on, grinning to himself. “You ever hear the Clash or the Sex Pistols?”

“Yes?” she answered, hoping that would prompt him to keep talking, and therefore stop playing the guitar. And for all she knew, maybe she really had heard of those bands, so it wasn’t technically a lie.

“Haha, yeah!” Finally, Leon set the guitar down on the table. “What about you? I’m thinking… I’ll start up a band! Gonna need some backup, right? You know anything about music?”

Mukuro shrugged, and used her bare hand to smooth out some of Sayaka’s hair. She wondered if the Ultimate Pop Sensation in front of them was listening, if she had any opinions on this conversation.

“Leon… I barely know what I do and don’t know.” Mukuro offered.

“Oh, yeah!” He slapped his knee, then looked up. “I’m a dumbass, huh? But c’mon! Try singing something.”

“Me? But I’m… the Ultimate Soldier.” She bit her lip. “What could I know about singing?”

“What could the Ultimate Baseball Player know about music? But I still do!”

That’s debatable.

Mukuro sighed, then looked up to Leon. He seemed genuine, at least, and she didn’t want to disappoint his good intentions. So, she would try and fail, and that would be that.

Her eyes went wide as soon as she opened her mouth. A soft, humming melody coalesced from nothing, and words sprang out of her throat unbidden, their origin unknown. Her eyes shut closed on their own, and the darkness of her vision summoned a new world before her.

“If I could have one wish granted / I would want wings on my back, like on a bird’s / Please give me white wings…

I want to spread my wings to the sky, and fly away / To the free sky, where there is no sadness. / I want to flap my wings, and go there…

The dreams I dreamed in childhood, even now, I still dream…

I want to spread my wings to the sky, and fly away / To the free sky, where there is no sadness. / I want to flap my wings…”

The last word trailed off. Mukuro’s heart was thumping against her chest, and she felt some strange combination of excitement, shame, and regret. Where had that song come from? Why did it carry with it those emotions?

She opened her eyes, expecting to find Leon looking impressed, or perhaps angry that she was better than him. And indeed, that did happen, but beside him also stood Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko, all but the last of whom looked shocked and pleased.

“Mukuro!” Hina shouted in her bubbly tone of voice. “That was incredible!”

Mukuro turned pure red. She looked away, unable to face anyone.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“You have depths yet unexplored, Mukuro,” Sakura agreed. “And talents we know nothing of.”

Leon pursed his lips. He was more toward the ‘angry’ end of the spectrum than the ‘impressed’ one.

“You’re pretty good,” he admitted, steaming.

Kyoko was the only one to remain silent.

“I’m glad you guys are back,” Mukuro stood up, then picked up the ruined comb. She awkwardly passed it off to Hina. “Uh… How’d the race go?”

Hina made a face, then crossed her arms. A second later, she uncrossed her arms, and pulled a jelly donut from her jacket. She stuffed almost the entire thing into her mouth.

“I don’t see how that’s important,” she muttered, and spewed crumbs all across the floor.

Mukuro smiled sympathetically. She was actually a little surprised Sakura hadn’t let Hina win.

“Oh!” Hina’s demeanor instantly shifted back to her usual cheerful high spirits, then she swallowed everything in one go. She grabbed Leon by the shoulder, hoisted his guitar into his hands, and pushed him away. “Shoo, shoo! We’re gonna talk about girl stuff.”

“Aw, man, I was here first!” he whined.

“Go away!”

Leon reluctantly obeyed, kicking his feet against the floor as he did.

“Guess what?” Hina asked. “We decided to celebrate the race by having all of the girls go to the bathhouse tonight!”

Mukuro had yet to actually see this mysterious bathhouse, but she wasn’t opposed to going with everyone else. Before she could ask any questions, Hina pumped her fists and rambled straight on.

“Kyoko mentioned something about how the pool and bathhouse both opened up the same day. Both have water, so that gave me the idea of everyone going together! I can’t wait!”

“That sounds fun,” Mukuro said. “But I don’t think everyone will come.”

“Wrong!” Hina shouted. “Toko’s already agreed!”

Mukuro was taken aback. That was the girl she was most certain would refuse. She wasn’t actually certain Toko even bathed at all – she usually carried a weird, slightly barfy odor with her.

“And Celeste?”

Kyoko shrugged, then spoke up. Her voice was soft, but still extremely certain.

“I’m sure she’ll come.”

Mukuro squinted and bored into those purple eyes. Hina was too excited to notice, but where was something in Kyoko’s face that said that this wasn’t just an ordinary certainty. Kyoko knew Celeste would agree.

This is more than just a bath.

-----

It was the first time Mukuro had ever entered the bathhouse, but it proved to be exactly what she’d expected: a long, wide, and tall room with a floor that was half square wooden tiles and half shallow blue bath. The air was swelteringly hot, and a hazy fog settled over the room at waist-height and above. Each breath Mukuro sucked in pierced her throat and lungs, and her bare feet on the wood felt like they might catch on fire. If there was any surprise to this place, it was only that there was no camera. It was the first place in the school, except the dorm bathrooms, where Mukuro hadn’t felt like she was being watched.

Kyoko, Celeste, Hina, Sakura, and Sayaka were already inside when she arrived, leaving only Toko absent. Each of the girls, including herself, wore nothing except white towels around their chests, except for Kyoko. Mukuro couldn’t help but notice how the Ultimate Mystery kept her gloves on even in here. It was painfully hot, and those gloves would probably mold onto and stick to her skin for the rest of the day. For a moment, Mukuro wondered what Kyoko might have to hide under them, but then she rubbed her own bare right hand, and thought:

Who am I to judge?

Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko stood above the bath, talking about something she couldn’t hear from her vantage point, but two girls were already inside the water. One was Sayaka, who sat in a corner, hair down and eyes faraway. Parts of her skin seemed to have turned red from the heat, but it clearly didn’t bother her.

The other had pale skin and short, dark hair. She faced away from the door, eyes shut, and sat by herself with a practiced regal poise. Her grace and elegant bearing made her immune to the brutal warmth of the air and, presumably, water. Next to her, on the floor beside the bath, was a circular serving tray with, to Mukuro’s shock, a bottle of wine and a tall, half-filled wine glass.

It took Mukuro a second to realize that this was a rare moment of Celeste removing her clip-on pigtails and lacey bonnet. They were all so much a part of her identity that seeing her without them was almost disconcerting.

Somehow, Celeste sensed her presence and peeked open a single red eye. A smile pulled at the corner of her lips, but she said nothing. Mukuro, more curious as to how a high school student got hold of wine, pretended to turn away, then surreptitiously looked down at the tray to read the bottle’s label.

Grape juice.

She hunched over and grabbed her sides in an effort to stop herself from laughing. Of course Celeste cared more about the image than the contents.

If I saw it, then Kyoko would’ve also noticed it…

She wondered if Kyoko also had to stifle her laughter.

Probably.

“Mukuro!” Hina waved to her cheerfully. “Over here!”

Mukuro stepped around the bath and joined the three. She had always known, of course, how enormous and muscular Sakura was – the very first day, she’d had mistaken her for an adult man. But especially here and now, with only a towel to cover up her body, the true extent of Sakura’s strength was impossible not to see. Every muscle was defined, every inch of her skin was bronze and tough as steel…

No one was more impressed than Hina, whose eyes darted all over Sakura’s perfect body. She stared at her friend in awe.

“I can’t believe you were able to throw Sakura across the gym that one time!” Hina said. “Both of you guys are amazing!”

Before Mukuro could say anything, a new voice joined the group.

“O—okay, I’m h—here!”

She twisted around to find Toko by the door. Her dark, braided hair fell around her shoulders in an uncharacteristically cute manner. Strangely, she wore two towels, one around her chest and the other around her waist, so that her entire body except her head and arms was covered.

Her glasses were completely fogged over, though, and she held them in her hands, cleaning them again and again with a piece of white fabric. Each time, the lens she’d just cleaned would be opaque by the time she finished with the other lens, leading her to engage in an endless, useless cycle.

Come to think of it, this might have been the second time Mukuro had seen Toko without Byakuya around, after that brief moment in the AV Room. Certainly, Toko seemed very uncomfortable, and she hunched over and kept her shoulder facing the others, as if prepared to run away at any moment.

The dour, almost blind girl made her way over to the bath, then slipped her useless glasses back on and paused by Celeste.

“H—hey, Mukuro!” she growled. Before Mukuro could respond, Toko raised a foot and kicked over the wineglass. Purple liquid went flying, but the glass itself somehow survived. “W—what gives you the r—right to steal the best c—corner for yourself, you w—worthless psychopath?”

Mukuro raised a hand to her waist, then raised an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

Toko looked up to Mukuro on the other side of the room, yelped, jumped back in surprise, and then looked down more carefully. Celeste sat there in the bath, steaming more than the water.

Mukuro pursed her lips. Actually, she could understand how Toko had made that error. Without the pigtails, both she and Celeste had short black hair and very pale skin. You could still have told the difference if you paid attention to Celeste’s graceful mannerisms, but with poor eyesight or from far away, the two of them probably looked identical.

“Pick up that wineglass.” Celeste ordered. Her teeth were grit together and didn’t move as she spoke, and her voice was dripping with hate. Toko mumbled something to herself, or maybe it was an apology, and dutifully picked up the glass. Before she could set it down again, Celeste continued. “Clean the glass.”

“Wh—what? W—with what?” Toko stammered.

“Find something.”

Toko muttered something again, this time more loudly, about how “only B—Byakuya can o—order me around,” but she obeyed anyway, and wiped off the glass with a corner of her own towel. Now in a stained towel, she set it down and moved away, but Celeste raised a hand out of the water.

“Pour another one.”

Toko groaned about how she didn’t deserve this, but finally picked up the bottle and poured the glass back up to half-full. Mukuro was pretty certain it had never been touched in the first place.

“A—are you happy now, y—your Majesty?” she sneered.

“No,” Celeste shot back even as she closed her eyes. “You’re still around.”

Toko started muttering again, then marched over to the others outside of the bath, bereft of her earlier paranoia.

What’s it say that Toko’ll get on my case for taking a corner of the bath, but not Celeste’s?

Mukuro honestly wasn’t sure. In any case, Toko faced Kyoko and motioned at Sayaka.

“Wh—why’d you bring the v—vegetable?”

“I didn’t,” Kyoko replied. “Hina did. Who else could we leave her with?”

“Hey!” Hina made a fist, then pointed at them both. “Don’t call Sayaka a vegetable! She’s going through a lot right now, and she needs our support!”

“I d—don’t care about her s—stupid emotions!” Toko sneered and bit her thumb. “We’ve g—got stuff to talk about, and she’s in the w—way.”

“Stuff to talk about?” Hina blinked in complete innocence. “What do you mean?”

Toko looked confused for a moment, then cackled evilly. The undisguised mockery in her already cruel voice seemed to genuinely hurt Hina.

“H—how dumb are you?” Toko laughed. “A—all your mass went to your ch—chest instead of your h—head, huh?”

“We’re just here to have a nice bath and celebrate the race…” Hina said, but her tone of voice showed that she was no longer certain of that.

“Hina,” Kyoko said, as gently as possible. “Sorry for deceiving you, but it was necessary. We’re here to talk about something important away from the cameras. There’s important information to discuss that Monokuma can’t learn.”

“What?!” Hina turned blue. “Did everyone know except me?!”

“Yes.” Sakura said.

“Yes.” Kyoko said.

“Yes.” Toko said.

“Yes.” Celeste said.

Hina looked last to Mukuro, begging with her eyes for some support. But Mukuro only smiled sadly and admitted the truth:

“Yes.”

Hina’s jaw dropped.

“But… but… coming here was my idea!”

“Hina,” Sakura rumbled. “Did it not occur to you that you only had the idea after Kyoko awkwardly mentioned the bathhouse to you, even though she’s normally quiet and withdrawn?”

Kyoko tapped the back of her hand against her chin.

“I didn’t want to seem suspicious by inviting everyone to the bathhouse the day after Toko took me here,” she explained. “So, I tricked you into doing it for me.”

Hina’s lips curled into her mouth, half in shame and half in annoyance, and she marched over to the bath. Without a word, she slipped into the water beside Sayaka and submerged herself up to her bottom lip.

“At least you haven’t betrayed me…” she muttered.

“The boys will come here tomorrow,” Kyoko continued. “Byakuya agreed to explain everything to them.”

“Byakuya?!” Mukuro repeated in surprise. “Have you been talking to him secretly?”

Toko shook her head.

“M—more like Master Byakuya’s b—been talking to h—her!” she stammered. “Th—this was all his b—brilliant idea, d—don’t give her the c—credit.”

‘Master’ Byakuya?

“I think he’s going to trick Taka into asking the rest of the boys, but I don’t know his exact plan,” Kyoko said. She sat by the edge of the bath, then dipped her legs in. Through the haze and reflection on the surface, Mukuro could see her stretch her bare feet. A moment later, she entered the water up to her shoulders. “But that doesn’t concern us for now. What’s important is that yesterday, I had a conversation with Byakuya and Toko.”

“Oh!” Mukuro said. “That’s when Toko invited you to the bathhouse.”

“Yes. Byakuya was waiting for us there. He needed to talk to me, but inviting me here himself would have been too suspicious, so he used Toko as a proxy.”

“He’s so s—smart…” Toko clapped her hands and looked up, dreamily.

Sakura moved into the bath alongside Hina. Unlike the others, her mass was great enough that the water visibly rose a little.

A few seconds later, Mukuro joined them. The water actually wasn’t as hot as she’d expected. In fact, it was rather comfortable. She waved over to Toko to follow, but the other girl hesitated.

“Are you going to come in, Toko?” Sakura offered.

“She can’t,” Kyoko interrupted. “At least, not yet. That’s what we’re here to talk about.”

“We’re here to talk about Toko’s bathing habits?” Hina gasped and covered her mouth. “I didn’t know Byakuya wanted us to do an intervention…”

“Sh—shut up, you big-titted idiot!” Toko’s kicked some water at her in a fury. “Th—that’s not it! And I s—smell just fine.”

“Toko,” Kyoko said tactfully. “Perhaps it would be easier if you sat down.”

Toko scowled for a few more seconds, then finally accepted the advice and sat at the edge of the bath. That was as close as she got, though, and not even her toes entered the water.

“Okay,” Kyoko continued. “We may as well get right to the point. Toko?”

“Y—yeah?”

“Show everyone your leg, and explain what happened that day with Byakuya.”

Toko stalled for a second, suddenly conscious of everyone’s attention. Her face burned red, and she seemed like she might retreat. But she finally sighed and shook her head, and moved a hand down to her lower towel, the one around her waist. She flipped it open to reveal her right leg.

Save Kyoko and Sayaka, everyone gasped.

-----

One day ago

Kyoko was such a useless, conceited piece of shit. Who did she think she was, acting all mysterious and aloof? Anyone can do that. All you have to do is stand in a corner and not talk. It’s easier to do that than to open your mouth and actually contribute to the conversation, like some people – especially Master Byakuya.

Toko’s bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She bit down almost hard enough to draw blood. Her eyes rolled back up in their sockets, and she slowed her pace through the school.

Master Byakuya…

A pink-and-white haze drifted over the world. A tall, bespectacled Adonis appeared in the distance, his locks of golden hair flowing magnificently in the warm wind. His long white shirt was unbuttoned, and each of his pale abs shone in the dim light of an unseen sun. He opened up his arms to sweep in his future bride, and Toko—

“Toko?”

She looked back at Kyoko, furious that her fantasy had been interrupted. Of course, this was actually useful, Master Byakuya would be angry if they were late, but Kyoko couldn’t have known that. Where did she get off, talking to Toko like that?

Toko grabbed Kyoko’s hand again (stupid glove) more roughly this time, and pulled her into the dorms area and in the direction of the bathhouse.

“I—I wanted someone to h—help me wash my h—hair…” she muttered.

Kyoko was probably stupid enough to believe that lie, of course. Everyone in this prison-school was, with two exceptions, of course. What she could possibly have to contribute, Toko couldn’t guess, but Master Byakuya wanted her, so he was going to get her.

As long as it’s not in THAT way…

Toko bit her thumb. If this lavender-haired seductress made a move…

She stepped into the bathhouse’s locker room. The dark carpet and long wooden benches were completely spotless – almost no one had actually used this place yet, except that idiot Celeste. One wall was mostly covered by metal lockers, and two automatic massage chairs sat in a corner away from them.

An entire room dedicated to bathing…

Toko shuddered. If not for being told to come here, she never would. But there was one other redeeming feature to this place, even if it was only temporary…

Master Byakuya stood in the center of the room, arms crossed. He tapped his foot on the floor again and again, waiting impatiently. He was always impossibly handsome, of course, the most beautiful man for a thousand miles. Even she would agree.

Have to make sure she doesn’t come out… Have to make sure she doesn’t touch him…

In this room, in this awful place whose only purpose was bathing, the Greek god that was Byakuya Togami stood out even more, like a diamond surrounded by filth.

I could be that filth…

Toko’s mouth started watering at the thought of it. Even better, his eyes briefly flit down to hers.

“Toko,” he said. “I thought I gave you two minutes to get her.”

“B—but!”

He lifted up his sleeve, exposing his beautiful, chiseled wrist, and looked down to his watch.

“You got here with twenty seconds to spare.” He pushed his sleeve back down, then looked up to her. Those deep blue eyes met her, and there was definitely, unquestionably a connection. He loved her for sure. “Go faster next time.”

“Ah!” She clapped her hands together, then brought them up to her shoulders and hugged herself. He hadn’t even insulted her this time! “M—Master Byakuya!”

She fell backwards and landed on a bench. By luck, she was sitting. Byakuya’s lip pulled back in disgust, and then he dismissed her.

Toko looked back up to Kyoko, who looked at her, confused.

She doesn’t understand our deep, personal love…

No one did.

“Kyoko,” he said. His voice was cool, and he crossed his arms again. “Do you know why I had Toko bring you here?”

“There are no cameras,” she said instantly. Her voice was also very calm. “You have something important to talk about, and can’t risk Monokuma learning about it.”

“Heh… You could say that.” Byakuya leaned up against one of the walls. “Tell me… Did you notice something during the trial? Something odd, that the bear skimmed over as fast as he could?”

“You’re talking about the sixteenth podium,” she responded, again instantly. “He said the courtroom could ‘technically’ hold another student.”

Sixteenth podium?

Toko scowled. She didn’t like how this siren was so easily answering Master Byakuya’s questions. She liked even less how Master Byakuya’s tolerance of her verged on… not respect, but some plastic respect-like substitute.

Kyoko went go.

“By itself, that podium might not have meant much, but combined with what Makoto said on the first day we got trapped here—”

“Wh—what?!” Toko cut in. “What d—did he say?! I don’t r—remember that!”

Byakuya scowled down at her.

“Don’t interrupt.” he commanded, clearly annoyed.

But Kyoko stayed calmer, clearly trying to show Toko up in front of Master Byakuya, and explained.

“On the first day, Makoto mentioned we were missing another student… Junko Enoshima.”

That name!

Toko’s hand reflexively started scratching at her right thigh. A low mumble eked out of her lips. If Kyoko didn’t already know that Toko knew something, she definitely did now. Both of them looked back to Byakuya, who grinned with immense self-satisfaction.

“Obviously, you think that podium is for Junko,” Kyoko said to him. “I had the same thought.”

“Of course!” Byakuya’s smile grew. “Junko Enoshima is the mastermind behind this entire game… She is Monokuma.”

Master Byakuya’s poise and the ease and certainty with which he said those words broke Kyoko’s false, practiced calmness. For a brief, extremely gratifying moment, her eyes went wide.

Not even she’s immune to Master Byakuya’s wit…

“I’m confused.” Kyoko said, suddenly back to normal.

“I guess I’m not disappointed,” he said, a little bored. “Definitely not surprised. You’re not here to help me figure anything out, honestly.”

“Then what am I here for?”

He scoffed, then cocked his head.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re here because I’ve already solved everything, and I need a way to disseminate that information to the others, and Toko’s not a sufficient tool for the task.”

“Ah!” Toko wrung her hands in her lap, burning with shame. “M—Master Byakuya—”

“Quiet.”

Her lips closed on their own.

“Do you remember on that first day?” Byakuya asked. “Sakura speculated that Junko missed the first day because she was sick, and just got lucky.”

“I remember.” Kyoko said.

“From the beginning, I didn’t like that explanation. It might have satisfied the other mouth-breathers, but I could tell it was wrong. What were the chances she’d get sick on such a convenient day?”

“It seems more probable than any other reason she’d be missing,” Kyoko offered.

“I know, and that’s what bothered me about it. It was too convenient. But…” He grinned again. “Toko!”

“Y—yes, Master Byakuya?”

“Show her.”

Kyoko looked down at her, confused. Toko relished that confusion, and made sure to draw everything out as long as possible, to watch h—

“It’s your leg, isn’t it?” Kyoko guessed. “We all thought there was something wrong with it, but no one knew what.”

Toko stared up at her. Angrily and all at once, she hiked up her skirt and revealed only her right leg. She had, of course, made sure to remove that girl’s secret supply of scissors in advance.

Kyoko’s eyebrows shot off of her face.

A sentence had been brutally carved into Toko’s right thigh with a blade. The scars would last for the rest of her life. Ugly red letters sliced into the skin in haste formed letters and words. They were the right way up from Toko’s perspective, as if she’d cut them herself, and…

Well, she knew her own handwriting.

JUNKO ERASED OUR MEMORIES x2

The skin around the letters was red and swollen. It was impossible not to scratch at it. It itched even now. But before Toko could scratch at it again, Kyoko swept down and ran her fingers over the letters, completely disrespecting all of Toko’s privacy and personal space.

Bitch…

Kyoko finished examining the letters after about a minute. At length, she stood up and faced Toko.

“When did you find this?” she asked.

“Th—the first day, I went into my dorm. My leg was k—killing me! So, I went into the b—bathroom and saw it. It w—was just luck that I d—did pulled up my s—skirt in a place without c—cameras.”

Kyoko flipped around to Byakuya.

“You’ve known about this for days,” she said. “Why now?”

“Heh…” He looked away. “I wasn’t sure if Toko was being truthful or not before.”

“B—but you are now, right?” Toko asked hopefully, still scratching at her leg.

“Quiet, Toko.” Byakuya snapped. She fell silent instantly. Oh, the contempt in his voice! Her heart was racing. “I still wouldn’t have believed it, but Mukuro’s amnesia makes for compelling supporting evidence. So, yes – I think it’s a near certainty that this Junko Enoshima, for reasons I can’t guess yet, erased our memories and masterminded this game.”

Kyoko pressed her finger against her cheek.

“Junko erased our memories times two…” she murmured. “That means—”

“Ha!” Byakuya shook his head. “I’ve chosen you two to explain all of this to the other girls tomorrow, so let me make sure you understand it yourselves: it means that Junko erased our memories once, then we figured out what she’d done, and she decided to erase our memories again. Before she could, Toko thought to leave herself a secret message, which means that, despite all appearances, she actually managed to do something mildly useful.”

Toko’s arms snaked up to her shoulders until she was hugging herself. Complimented by Master Byakuya! It was almost too much to believe. Drool and snot leaked out of her mouth and nose.

“… I see.” Kyoko finished. “And what do you intend to do with all of this information?”

“Heh…”

He turned away. A moment later, his good mood was gone.

“I… I think I’ve lost interest in Junko’s little game, as it stands.”

“Because of Makoto?” she pressed.

Byakuya took a moment before responding.

“… Don’t mistake what I have to say. I haven’t been moved by some worthless sentimentalism. No one in this school is willing to sacrifice himself for the others, or anything like that—”

“Makoto did.” Kyoko said instantly. Byakuya scoffed, but didn’t argue. “He could have misled us once he realized what had happened. He could probably gotten Mukuro not to turn him in. He could have easily tricked us into voting for her or Chihiro.”

Byakuya’s lips were sealed in a harsh scowl, but a low murmuring sound escaped. He didn’t meet Kyoko’s eyes.

“You know what happened in that courtroom was completely unjust,” she kept going. “You know that—”

“Enough!” he sneered. “It’s arrogance to apply your own morality to someone else. Don’t read your own emotions onto me. The simple fact is that I’ve decided Junko’s rules aren’t worth following, even as entertainment. From this point on, I will set the rules, and I’ve decided the win condition is her death.”

Toko’s mouth fell open. Master Byakuya intended to bring the fight directly to the mastermind? She should have expected something so amazing! … Though, if she had, it would have been a little less amazing, so perhaps not.

Kyoko, though, was less visibly surprised. At length, though, she did smile.

“Could it be, Byakuya?” she chided him. “Inside that black husk you call a body is a heart?”

“Don’t.” he snapped. “The simple truth is that—”

“You can’t leave until you have back what she stole from you?” Kyoko finished his thought. “At the very least, you need to know how much of your memory she took.”

Again, Byakuya looked away.

“… You already suspected she’d messed with our memories, hadn’t you?” he said. It wasn’t really a question.

How did he know that? Toko wondered. He’s so brilliant…

Kyoko shrugged.

“I didn’t know it was Junko Enoshima,” she admitted. “But if Mukuro had had her mind wiped, why not the rest of us?”

“Her amnesia could have been a coincidence. You must have had more than that.”

This time, it was Kyoko who smiled.

“On the first day, I checked all of the nameplates on the dorm doors. I discovered that all of them had a lot of dust on their backs, as if they’d been there for months.”

“Even though we’d supposedly only just arrived…” Byakuya muttered, and adjusted his glasses. “That means Junko either prepared those nameplates months in advance, or we’ve been here for months, and just recently had our memories wiped…”

“Except for one,” Kyoko said. “There was one nameplate that was almost dustless.”

Byakuya looked up, surprised.

“Then it was a late addition, someone Junko didn’t expect to include in this game. Who?”

“Mukuro.”

Byakuya’s face darkened.

“I am bowing out of this game, at the rest of you are following me.” he declared. He pointed directly at Kyoko, who didn’t flinch. “In the name of the Togami family, I’m going to reclaim all that she stole, and kill her for wasting my time! Everyone else… will do what I say, and perhaps I’ll tolerate you for the duration.”

The light behind him shone brighter and transformed him into a beautiful silhouette, and Master Byakuya’s soft, perfect skin molded into the radiance, until nothing was left but a yellow-haired god.

-----

“Junko Enoshima, the sixteenth student, lying somewhere hidden in this school. The one they call the Ultimate Fashionista. We must watch out for her.”

Kyoko finished the thought after the story was over. The two girls who’d spoken to Byakuya that day looked back to everyone sitting in the bath.

Mukuro watched them in amazement, mouth wide open. How much of this mystery had Kyoko and Byakuya just uncovered? An hour ago, they’d known almost nothing. Now, if nothing else, they had an enemy.

Each of the other girls took the information in a different way. Celeste’s eyes were closed, but her face was scrunched in obvious contemplation as she worked to absorb this information. Hina covered her lips in terror, and Sakura’s eyes blazed with anger. Only Sayaka’s empty expression remained unchanged.

“But… wait!” Hina slammed her fists into the water. “If Junko Enoshima wiped our memories, how did Toko know to carve that into her leg? And why did Junko just let her? That would obviously tip all of us off!”

“Here’s what I think happened,” Kyoko said. Her voice was as calm as ever. “I think we were all students at Hope’s Peak Academy, including Junko. For some reason, she decided to put us all into this killing game – I don’t know why – and erased our memories. Again, I don’t know how. I think that Mukuro escaped being captured and mind-wiped, but couldn’t reach anyone for help, so she came back for us. She showed up partway through the game and told us the truth about Junko.”

“Y—yeah!” Toko added. “S—so, Junko learns wh—what Mukuro’s doing, and s—sends the Monokuma r—robots to stop her. As the Ultimate S—Soldier, Mukuro f—fights them for a while, but eventually g—gets overwhelmed! Junko decides to m—mindwipe us again and put us b—back into the game, with o—one new addition, which explains the l—less dusty nameplate.”

Kyoko nodded.

“But before Junko can recapture us, Toko runs to some hidden location away from the cameras and carves that message into her leg. Assuming that the method of memory wiping doesn’t involve stripping you naked, it would be possible for Toko to do this and Junko not to realize her mistake.”

“If that’s the case,” Hina asked. “Why not tell us more? Like, put the full story on her leg.”

“M—maybe it was impossible in the t—time I had!” Toko growled. “I—I don’t know!”

Sakura had closed her eyes and been silent throughout this entire exchange. The area around her nose twitched several times, and it was clear she was even more disturbed than the rest of the girls. Mukuro wasn’t sure why.

“Oh! And this explains Mukuro’s amnesia!” Without warning, Hina grabbed Mukuro by the shoulders and shook her. “Maybe Junko was more scared of her because of how good at fighting she is, so she mindwiped her extra!”

“I also thought that,” Kyoko agreed. “Or, depending on how volatile Junko’s emotions are, she may have just been upset that Mukuro ruined the first game, and punished her for it. In any case, it seems certain that that first day we remember in the school, waking up and meeting each other for the first time… wasn’t the first time. At the very least, Junko had to erase our memories twice to get this game actually started. For all we know, she’s erased our memories even more than that, and the Toko of the past just didn’t know about it.”

“Then…” Hina covered her mouth again. “Oh my God! Are you saying that we could have all been friends and stuff? We could’ve gone to school together for who-knows-how-long? That… That would explain why I felt such a connection with Sakura and Mukuro! Because we were already friends to begin with!”

“O—oh!” Toko’s eyes lit up. “N—no wonder Master B—Byakuya and I are so in l—love! It’s old m—memories resurfacing!” She bit down on her thumb coating it in drool. “I bet b—before this, we were l—lovers, and Junko erased it all b—because she was so jealous! Th—that slutty whore!”

“Stop.” Celeste said. She opened her eyes, and obvious suspicion and distrust burned within them. “Just, stop. This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Kyoko asked.

“Yes. Consider this: Byakuya has opened talked about becoming the Blackened before. This could just be an elaborate ploy to bait us into a position where he can easily kill one of us.”

“N—no!” Toko shook her head. “He d—didn’t say anything like that to me!”

“That only helps prove my point,” Celeste raised her nose. “Besides, Toko herself could be in on it. She clearly listens to anything he says. He could have told her to write that message on her leg.”

Kyoko interrupted before Toko could start yelling.

“No,” she said. “Toko was scratching her leg from the moment we met her in the entry hall, even before she’d ever met Byakuya. Besides, I examined the message on her leg. It’s at least a week old, probably more. I’m certain it’s genuine. At the very least, it predates our waking up here.”

Celeste was obviously still skeptical.

“This entire story posits that Junko Enoshima somehow has the power to erase our memories. How does the Ultimate Fashionista have such a power? I would think her skills would be limited to cosmetics and clothing.”

“Th—that’s obvious, you i—idiot!” Toko moaned. “The Ultimate F—Fashionista is going to be i—irresistible to men! I bet she s—seduced the Ultimate Neurologist or s—something and g—got him to build a machine to do th—that!”

“Or, or!” Hina pumped her fists. “Maybe she’s also the Ultimate Hypnotist!”

“Those are both leaping to conclusions,” Kyoko interjected. “But it is a possibility that another Ultimate student helped her, or that she found something in the school to do it.”

Celeste sniffed, then shook her head.

“Do we have any actual hard evidence for our memories being erased besides a deranged lunatic scarring up her leg?”

Toko was about to say something everyone would regret, but this time it was Hina who interrupted her.

“Mukuro’s amnesia!” she said. “Stop being dumb!”

“I am still unconvinced. I would say that—”

“I also have amnesia.” Kyoko said.

The room went quiet. Even Sakura opened her eyes.

“I’ve been keeping it a secret,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone in this killing game. I’m still not sure. But… I do think we knew each other before this. Hina is right; we might have even been friends. Even if I’m wrong, though, it’s obvious that this is too important for there to be any debate about.”

Mukuro’s heart fluttered in her chest.

“Y… You, too?” she asked, breathlessly.

“I shouldn’t have kept this from you,” Kyoko said quietly. “For that, I apologize. My memory loss isn’t as severe as yours, but there’s much of my past I can’t remember. I have only vague recollections of my family, for instance. And my Ultimate talent… It’s hazy.”

Mukuro raised her hand. Without thinking, she placed it on Kyoko’s shoulder.

“I… I’m not alone in this, then?”

“We all have had our memories wiped,” Kyoko said. “But for some reason, Junko thought the two of us had to be made more helpless than the others. It’s a certainty that Junko’s plan, whatever it is, requires us not to remember any time prior to waking up in Hope’s Peak.”

Mukuro’s breath caught in her throat. She’d always been able to count on Hina’s support, but actually having someone else like her… It was a sense of relief she couldn’t express in words.

“Oh!” Hina grabbed Kyoko’s other shoulder. “Maybe you’re the Ultimate Fighter or something, too!”

“No,” Kyoko smiled. “I already tested myself in the changing room. I’m just a normal person. But, Celeste… Are you convinced, now?”

Celeste scowled. It seemed as if she wanted to still argue, but…

“I admit defeat,” she said cheerfully. “I cannot believe that you, Mukuro, Toko, and Byakuya would all conspire to lie to us.”

“Oh!” Mukuro fell back and almost hit her head on the floor. She slapped the water several times in surprise, splashing the girls around her. “Oh, oh! Oh my God!” The other girls looked at her. “Monokuma said something about this!”

“What?!” Kyoko stared right at her. “What do you mean?”

“Today, in the student store. I was with Sayaka, and Monokuma said there was a special item in the machine, with a one-in-one-hundred-million chance to get it. He said Makoto won it because of his luck on the day Sayaka tried to kill Leon. It was called an Escape Switch, and it would let everyone leave. But… He told me that I…” She sucked in her lips. She hadn’t thought this far ahead, and she wasn’t sure how the others would react. “Well, he said that I… uh… betrayed Makoto.” She said the last two words in a low voice, as quickly as she could. “I said that wasn’t true! I said Makoto would have told us if he’d gotten something like that, and that nothing like that happened the day Sayaka attacked Leon.”

“No, that makes perfect sense now,” Kyoko nodded. “Perhaps Sayaka tried to kill Leon the first time around, and got stopped somehow. Then, after our memories were erased again, she came up with the exact same plan. Then, Monokuma claiming things happened that we don’t remember would mean those things happened the first time. In fact, this Escape Switch could be the impetus that forced her to erase our memories a second time.”

“But…” Hina shook her head vigorously. “I can’t believe Mukuro would ever betray anyone!”

“She didn’t,” Kyoko said calmly. “Junko was using the word ‘betray’ to mean ‘failed.’ Mukuro probably just failed to protect Makoto from the Monokuma robots, and Junko wanted to rub that in as revenge for ruining the first version of this game.”

This time, it was Mukuro who covered her lips. That idea—that idea that she’d heroically tried to save everyone, that she’d failed in the end, that she—

But there was still that video where she’d lobotomized Chisa.

I can’t have been a hero.

There was an ocean of relief waiting to pour around Mukuro, if only she’d accept it – and she just couldn’t. No one who’d be so cruel and evil to that poor woman could be the person Kyoko described.

“I must know how much of our memories have been erased.”

It was the first time Sakura had spoken since the story began. Her eyes were still closed, but conflict raged across her face. She was shaking, either with fear or frustration.

“There’s no way to tell precisely,” Kyoko said. “Months, at the very least, for the school to have been renovated the way it is. But… I suspect it was years.”

“Based on what? I must know.”

Kyoko tapped a finger on the edge of the floor.

“This isn’t precise,” she confessed. “And I am unsatisfied with this explanation… But I feel like my body isn’t quite the way it should be. Like—”

“You feel slightly taller, or slightly heavier.” Sakura finished.

Kyoko’s eyebrow raised, then lowered.

“I should have known… You’re a bodybuilder; of course you’d be the first to notice if your body felt at all off.”

“You think it’s been a year or more because we’ve grown slightly… Yes,” Sakura growled. “But for me, it’s the opposite. I feel as if my muscles have atrophied. The difference is almost imperceptible, but with the aid of the weights in the changing room, I’ve measured a minute difference in the amount I can lift. I think my time in this school has robbed me of some refinement.”

“Yes…” Kyoko said. “I thought Monokuma might have done something to our bodies, but it’s just the opposite. He only touched our minds.”

“Years…” Sakura rumbled.

She stood up suddenly, then hefted herself onto the floor. She was breathing in and out quickly, clearly flustered at something. She turned down to everyone in the bath, opened her mouth, and then closed it again. It was such an alien look on her that Mukuro didn’t know what to think. Sakura always had such a confident, prideful poise. To see her at all indecisive like that was unthinkable.

Sakura stood perfectly still for a few seconds. Her normal stoicism transformed her into an outright statue. For a while, only her eyes moved, darting between each of the girls.

“Know that I think of you all as friends,” she said at last.

“What are you talking about, Sakura?” Hina asked. She was as confused as Mukuro, but far more disturbed.

Of course, Sakura is her best friend.

Sakura crossed her arms, then looked to the far wall.

“I am guilty of a great crime,” she said in a low voice. “I cannot ask forgiveness, but I must explain it. I…” For a brief second, she lost her composure, but she regained it just as quickly. “Monokuma has blackmailed me into being a spy.”

Toko flipped backwards in surprise, and Hina shook her head from side to side. Everyone was else was too stunned to do anything.

“No!” Hina said, alarmed and confused. “That can’t be true.”

“For three-hundred years, my family has watched over a dojo,” Sakura explained. “Monokuma threatened it. I cannot let it be destroyed on my watch… But if what Kyoko said is true, then I have already been away from it for a year or more… It might already be destroyed… And we might have all… been friends, so that this betrayal is even crueler. And, in truth, I felt immense shame about this arrangement as it was. I am sorry, Hina, I went back and forth many nights over whether or not to tell you. You do not deserve this treacherous behavior.”

Before Hina could respond, Kyoko spoke up.

“What did Junko have you do?”

“He—that is, Monokuma—contacted me after the incident with Sayaka and Leon.” Sakura explained. “The impression I received was that he was frustrated no one had died.”

“Of course,” Kyoko said. Her eyes went down to the water, but her mind was on fire. “It must have happened similarly the first time, and been stopped somehow. Monokuma changed some variable and expected the murder to go off perfectly this time, but then Mukuro intervened and ruined it… Maybe, the first time, Monokuma even contacted you before the Sayaka-Leon fight, and was surprised by it…”

Mukuro looked over to Sayaka. Those blue eyes stared back at her, but there was no other indication that she’d heard the rest of the conversation.

To learn you betrayed Makoto twice, and that you’d been even closer to him than you’d believed…

It was almost too savage to believe.

“Perhaps,” Sakura said, oblivious to Mukuro’s thoughts. “He told me that if no one died in the next few days, I was to kill someone else of my choosing and prompt a trial. The day before I was to commit murder, we found Chihiro’s body.”

Hina lifted herself partly out of the bath, then hugged Sakura’s tree-trunk leg.

“Okay!” she cried. “Okay, but you didn’t do anything, so it’s okay, right?”

Sakura turned away, burning with shame.

“Hina… You forgive me too easily. I—”

“Keep going.” Kyoko pressed. “Did you do anything else?”

Sakura nodded.

“Yes, I am sad to say. I passed information on our dealings to Monokuma. He…” Sakura closed her eyes, then spoke again. “He knew we were planning to discuss something in here secretly, and contacted me when I was alone. I am to tell him of this discussion after I retire to bed.”

Celeste raised a hand to her lips, then laughed.

“I see! You bring this up now because you wish to volunteer yourself as a double-agent, yes?” Her eyes took on that wide-and-crazy image she loved so much, and she pushed herself forward to face Sakura. “You think it is the only way to redeem yourself.”

Slowly, Sakura eased herself back down, and sat at the edge of the bath. Toko crawled away from her, clearly still scared and upset.

“I cannot apologize enough,” whispered the martial artist.

She took this confession much harder than everyone else, and it was clear how much it tore her up inside. For the first time, Mukuro saw Sakura as something other than that invincible colossus. She had emotions, she had shame, she looked and felt just like anyone else…

But most of all, Mukuro saw Monokuma dancing over her friend’s body.

Maybe I’m blackmailing Sakura into being a spy in your group…

Mukuro shuddered. Monokuma had always claimed that bears don’t lie, but she’d still have never believed it from anyone but the source herself. And if that was true…

He said there might be a second spy.

A cold chill ran up Mukuro’s spine. If noble, honorable Sakura could work against them, then anyone was a suspect. She couldn’t dare reveal that information now, though. If one of the other girls was the second spy…

“Y—you traitor!” Toko gnawed at her thumb. “I’m g—gonna tell Master B—Byakuya everything!”

“You’ll have to,” Kyoko agreed. “Especially the part where we tell her what to lie to Monokuma about.”

Toko blinked in surprise.

“Oh, I, uh…”

“Make sure you find a way to tell Byakuya before he takes the boys to the bath, otherwise, there could be problems later.”

Mukuro wanted to wade over to Sakura and comfort her friend, but…

Who could the second spy be?!

She sank into the bath up to her nose, then pulled up her knees to her chin and hugged herself. Her teeth were chattering, but the water disguised that fact from the other girls. If they hadn’t already been in such a hot environment, the sweat rolling down her forehead would have given away her fear.

Hina couldn’t be a spy, could she? Celeste was too suspicious, no one really trusted her. Sayaka was in no position to do anything… unless it was all an act.

She looked over to the idol’s empty blue eyes. It couldn’t just be an act.

It couldn’t.

It couldn’t.

Could it?

“What shall I say?” Sakura asked. “I yield to your expertise in this matter.”

“T—tell Junko that we j—just took a nice bath together!” Toko demanded.

“No,” Kyoko shook her head. “Junko already knows we know something worth talking about secretly, and she knows I’m the one who manipulated this bath into happening after I met with Toko and Byakuya. Our lie will have to be about something important.” She furrowed her brow for a few moments. “The motives.”

“Motives?” Hina asked.

“The first incident with Sayaka and Leon was prompted by Monokuma giving us what he called a ‘motive.’ It’s highly likely that Junko will attempt to provoke us into murder again by inventing another motive.”

“I see,” Sakura nodded. “You propose we invent a fake way to combat the upcoming motives.”

“Yes. Let’s declare that the next time we’re given motives by Monokuma, we’ll come here and ‘secretly’ discuss them as a group. We’ll all put them out in the open so there won’t be any real reason to kill each other, or at least so we’ll know whose motives are most compelling. That will be a good fake reason to meet tonight, but also serve a useful purpose once the time comes. Toko can relate all of this to Byakuya.”

“O—okay.” said the girl in question.

“And make absolutely certain never to mention memory loss, people knowing each other already, or Junko Enoshima.” Kyoko added. “No one is to talk about either of those subjects outside of this bathhouse. Make sure the boys know this… Especially Hiro.”

But the second spy…

Mukuro didn’t know what to do. If she took Kyoko aside right now and explained in private, it would surely give away her knowledge to the spy, if they were watc—

Kyoko.

That was the most impossible person of all, right?

But Monokuma had implied that Sakura was a spy, and lo and behold, it was true. And he’d implied equally that Kyoko was a spy…

She’d been so helpful and considerate. She was the only reason anyone survived the first trial. She’d almost cried when Makoto died, she’d pulled Mukuro out of bed when she tried to starve herself to death.

Mukuro hated herself for feeling such distrust. Kyoko didn’t deserve this!

… right?

“It’s getting late,” Celeste said. “We’ll have to break up for tonight no matter what.”

“Agreed.” Kyoko said. “We can—”

“Wait, that’s not where I was going. I have a question about this Junko Enoshima.”

“Yes?”

“What does she look like? I confess, I do not pay very much attention to popular fashions, unless they are… Well, of a very particular sort.”

Kyoko tapped the edge of the bath.

“I actually don’t know. I might have, but I’m suffering the second worst memory loss.”

“Me neither.” Mukuro said quietly.

What their captor looked like was the furthest thing from Mukuro’s mind. Who could possibly care about something as trivial as that? What mattered right now was Kyoko.

To trust, or not to trust…

Mukuro felt like a sword was being driven through her heart. She pressed her knees together and forced herself not to shake.

“I’ve seen her on TV and stuff,” Hina said. “Um… She’s super beautiful, like, more than you can even imagine. She’s got these two giant blonde ponytails, and big blue eyes.”

Mukuro’s blood ran cold.

Two giant blonde ponytails, big blue eyes, unbelievably beautiful…

She bit down hard on her thumb, exactly like Toko always did, and looked up to find Kyoko staring right at her. For a terrifying second, she thought her friend might announce to everyone what had been in that motive DVD.

Kyoko remained mercifully silent to the others. But she stared across the bath and screamed her thoughts with her eyes:

The girl in your video.

Chapter Text

It was 1:15 AM. Mukuro poked her head out of the warehouse just far enough to check the hallway out to the dorms.

Empty.

Just to be safe, she checked the other end of the hallway. As always, the cast iron gate that blocked access to the second floor was down and locked.

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and over the bridge of her nose, then launched off her face and splashed onto the floor. She hadn’t realized how much she was trembling.

Mukuro pulled back into the room, grabbed what she’d come for, and wheeled it outside. She shut the door behind her to make sure there’d be no evidence she’d broken the nighttime rule, but it would all be for nothing if someone else happened to leave their room.

In front of her was a large wheeled whiteboard, the kind a teacher could bring into his or her classroom to have more space to write on. It wasn’t too far to her dorm room – as long as everyone else respected the rules, no one would ever know, and the fragile trust she’d built up would remain unshattered…

Unfortunately, the wheels were extremely noisy. They were barely attached to the metal frame that held up the whiteboard, and wobbled every which way as she pushed them, creaking incessantly. If anyone’s door was even slightly ajar, they would definitely hear everything.

When she reached the turn that would lead her to the main dorm area, Mukuro cast one last glance back at the warehouse. It was just a precaution to make sure she’d really closed the door, although she was already certain.

The gate was wide open.

The blood rushed out of her face. One of her eyes twitched.

Wh… what?

She blinked, trying to clear her head, trying to reveal this all to be a dream or a hallucination. But it wasn’t. The gate was definitely raised into the ceiling, and it had gone up without a hint of noise. The beads of sweat turned into a torrent, and her face was completely drenched.

Mukuro turned back to the main dorm hallway and scanned it with paranoid, disbelieving eyes. Everyone’s very closed doors waited for her to run past.

She turned back to the gate, and it was down and locked again.

“Ah!” she screamed, and jumped back. Her fists raised by themselves, ready to defend her against—

Nothing.

There was nothing around except the whiteboard and a light chill from the AC. She stood there, heart pounding, fists raised, and… nothing happened.

Perhaps a minute passed as she examined the gate from far away. She didn’t dare turn away from it, but neither did she have the courage to approach the thing.

She swallowed hard, and grabbed the whiteboard. This time, she ran past without regard for the squeaky wheels. She didn’t look back to the gate, and she stopped running only when she reached the door marked with her face.

She bounded into the room like she was being chased by a monster, swung the whiteboard inside, and slammed the door shut. The key fumbled in her fingers and fell to the floor.

“Dammit!”

Still sweating, still pale, Mukuro picked it up as fast as she could and twisted the lock shut. She was safe… for now.

-----

A thousand colorful scribbles enveloped the whiteboard’s surface.

Monokuma could be watching – surely was watching. Mukuro was prepared for this. Everything she wrote on the board, she turned into a code with either a letter or a number or both. Her own name, for instance, was U14-D. There was no real reason for it, except that it was unguessable to an outside observer. Hope’s Peak Academy was 77-2M; again, there was no actual logic involved. Every student, room, and idea in the school had a similar code, and once she decided on a designation, the Ultimate Soldier never forgot it. The idea of cryptography had come so naturally that it never even occurred to her to ask where she’d come up with it.

So, although the whiteboard would have been only so much shallow, meaningless nonsense to anyone else, the patternless codes translated instantly into their proper meanings for her.

STUDENTS: Hina, Byakuya, Celeste, Hifumi, Taka, Kyoko, Leon, Sakura, Sayaka, Toko, Hiro, Mukuro

Under each name was a list of attributes, again in codes. The code LL-14 meant that someone was a spy – currently, only Sakura was so marked. The code D-0 meant that she was certain they couldn’t be the spy. Right now, only Mukuro and Sayaka were so labeled.

Sayaka can’t be a spy, she thought, tapping a marker idly against her hip. She tried to kill Leon that night, and a spy wouldn’t have risked her life so pointlessly if she planned to undermine us throughout the game.

She paused, trying to organized her thoughts. That… made sense.

Besides, it cost her everyone’s trust. Terrible move for a spy.

A twinge of guilt stabbed at Mukuro’s heart. How terrible was it to even suspect Sayaka? No one in the universe felt more obvious pain and self-loathing than the girl who’d offered herself up to Monokuma as a sacrifice. The idol, whose only wish was to love and be loved by others, couldn’t even eat unassisted anymore. It should have been possible, even easy, to accept that Sayaka was genuinely destroyed by what she’d done. Using reason instead of emotion to eliminate her as a suspect just meant that the Ultimate Soldier trusted nothing and no one except herself.

She flashed back to almost killing Sakura and Hiro in the gym.

Hell, I don’t even trust Mukuro…

She flopped down backwards onto her bed. It was nearing 3 AM by now, and Mukuro could feel bags forming under her eyes. In her mind, she waged a war over which students were most likely to be Junko’s second spy.

A spy would want everyone’s trust, right? So, they’d either want to guide everyone toward Junko’s goals, or they’d want to blend into the background really well and be seemingly helpful…

Who did that remove as a potential spy?

Byakuya and Toko are too suspicious… No one would ever really trust them if we hadn’t learned about the memory wiping stuff, so…

They were the two least likely.

Taka is always in the foreground, always yelling and doing stuff in front of everyone… Besides, as the Ultimate Moral Compass, he’s probably immune to being bribed or threatened into spying, anyway.

That meant he was probably also safe… But no one else could be discounted in such a way.

Mukuro groaned and pressed her palms against her eyes. She knew what was coming. She didn’t want to consider this reasoning from the opposite direction. She didn’t want to think about who most fit the descriptions of “helpful guide” or “student in the background…”

Kyoko, Hina, Hiro, and Hifumi…

As soon as she admitted it to herself, Mukuro became certain it was one of those four.

Let it be Hiro or Hifumi…

Everything would be so much simpler if the second spy was someone she wasn’t friends with. She didn’t even care about how awful it was to wish someone was evil just because she didn’t personally like them.

Mukuro’s lips parted, and she let loose a horrible, bellowing yawn. She was seconds away from sleep now, and she still hadn’t even begun to unpack the idea that Junko Enoshima, the girl responsible for this entire disaster, could be her sister…

Rule #7: Betraying your sister is not allowed.

Mukuro sprang back up, suddenly awake again. Cold sweat dripped off her forehead and was lost on the bedsheets.

Kyoko thought I was the one who derailed the original game by trying to save everyone… Could I have ‘betrayed’ Junko by trying to save everyone?

That would explain everything. The presence of that weird, seemingly pointless rule. Why Monokuma kept toying with her. Why her memories were more wiped than everyone else’s… Come to think of it, the “second spy” could have been Mukuro herself, if she’d been working with Junko to begin with.

Kyoko thought I escaped being captured and mind-washed the first time, but what if I’d helped Junko willingly, then had second thoughts? … and now there is no second spy, and Junko just especially hates me in particular.

Mukuro leaned herself back onto her bed. Her body was still tired, but her mind was racing. Did she… did she really want that to be true, though?

The implications of that idea were staggering, but two stood out most of all. First, that Sakura was the only spy in this second version of the game. Second, and more importantly, that Mukuro was as responsible for the killing game as Junko. That she’d helped set everything up, maybe helped capture the more dangerous students – the Ultimate Fashionista probably couldn’t restrain Sakura for a memory wipe, but with the Ultimate Soldier on her side…

It would mean that Mukuro fought against the despair and hatred of the killing game, but that she was still as much its mother as Junko was. That she was, unambiguously, one of the villains in all of this, and that she was at least partly the reason Makoto and Chihiro were dead.

On the other hand, didn’t that possibility make things too convenient? She could just be lying to herself in an attempt to spare Kyoko and Hina her suspicion. The ‘sister’ in her video might not be Junko at all, but some other girl dressed up as her. Or, hell, what if her sister just liked dressing up as a famous fashion model, and Junko took advantage of that fact? What if Kyoko and Byakuya were totally wrong, and Junko was just an innocent student in all of this? She could have even been in the first version of the killing game that got derailed and been killed, and the actual mastermind forced Toko to carve that message into her leg. And if that was the case, then there really was a second spy somewhere.

And Mukuro didn’t dare consider the third possibility, the most dangerous and horrible one of them all.

Maybe you’re the girl in that video you saw, the innocent, beautiful blonde on the bed…

Mukuro pressed at her temples and moaned in anger and confusion. Kyoko, Hina, her own sister, herself… she had to suspect them all, and everyone else. The only people she could allow an ounce of trust for were a half-insane stalker who mistook abuse for love, a catatonic singer-turned-attempted-murderer, and the richest, most contemptuous bastard to ever live.

With those thoughts on her mind, the whiteboard in her vision, and her own heartbeats in her ears, Mukuro at last succumbed to sleep.

-----

“May I offer you a suggestion?” Celeste asked pleasantly.

Today was a rare day when Mukuro ate breakfast apart from Hina and Sakura. For some reason, Taka had insisted on eating with the two of them, and so the four-person table was too full – once Sayaka was accounted for, of course. The end result was that Mukuro, for the first time ever, ate across from Celeste.

The gothic girl had her breakfast, tea and crumpets, brought to her on a silver platter by the ever-helpful Hifumi. He hadn’t offered to fetch anything for Mukuro, but that was fine. Her own plate was stuffed with mostly-edible waffles of her own creation.

“What is it?” she asked, very wary of Celeste’s good mood and cheerful demeanor.

The Ultimate Gambler blinked, then looked to either side for anyone listening. Everyone else in the cafeteria was engaged in a conversation of their own, except Hifumi, who was busy dishing something up for himself in the kitchen.

Once she confirmed that no other student could overhear them, Celeste even checked over her shoulder. It was doubly meaningless, since she was seated in a corner that faced the door.

Celeste traced a finger across one of her pigtails, then leaned in conspiratorially. Mukuro swallowed a chewy piece of waffle and panicked, then leaned over the table to hear.

Does she have something secret to say about Junko?

Celestia Ludenberg whispered just two words:

“Never adapt.”

Mukuro scrunched up her face in confusion, then looked up. Celeste was already back to her normal graceful demeanor, daintily plucking a crumpet up from her platter and tossing it into her lips.

Hifumi arrived again. His eyes darted to Mukuro for a second, and he seemed hesitant. Then, he pulled out a chair to join them. Before he could actually sit down, Celeste grabbed a fork and pushed its prongs into his stomach, all without a word. Dejected, he left the chair where it was and worked his way to another empty table nearby. Celeste then dropped the fork on the chair’s seat, regarding it with the same expression she might have used for animal dung.

“What do you mean, ‘never adapt?’” Mukuro asked.

“Never get comfortable!” Celeste smiled, but there was no warmth in her eyes. “Never feel like this is a place you belong; never treat the others like reliable friends.”

“But they are my friends.”

Celeste leaned across the table, eyes wide. Mukuro squirmed under her gaze, and felt like someone was staring into her soul.

“They’re as much your friends as they can be,” she replied. “But… if one of them had the chance to escape alone, do you think they wouldn’t take it?”

Mukuro frowned.

“Kyoko, Hina, Sakura, and Taka wouldn’t abandon us.”

“My, my, such faith!”

“Makoto wouldn’t have, either.”

Celeste seemed about to reply, then shrugged and returned to her food.

“He wouldn’t have,” she conceded. “But he’s gone, now.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Celeste raised a pale hand to her lips, then giggled.

“Because when someone betrays you, and it will be you they betray, it will put everyone else in danger, unless you’re prepared for it.”

She said the words so casually that Mukuro almost couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

“There’s no way anyone would betray anyone else, not after…” She looked up to the camera. “Uh, not after last night.”

“There’s a limited amount of luck in the world,” Celeste replied, and raised some of her tea to her lips. “Makoto had an unfair share. I, too, have an unfair share. That means some people are born equally unlucky. And you, Mukuro… are one of them.” She swished some of her tea in her cup, forming a small whirlpool within the green liquid. “Oh yes, something’s coming, though I don’t know what.”

She looked up, revealing a predatory gleam in her eyes. Everything about her face changed, and for the briefest moment, she looked nothing like herself. Someone else was behind that pale skin, someone calculating and deceptive and terrifying.

Then she was back to normal. Mukuro’s blood started flowing again, but she felt cold and helpless.

“I’m the scion of French and German nobility,” Celeste boasted, then pressed a hand over her heart. “The blood of Europe’s greatest minds flows through my veins. I can just… tell.”

Mukuro bit her lip, uncertain of whether or not to say that Celeste was obviously Japanese.

“My advice to you is simply this,” the Ultimate Gambler finished. “Always be suspicious and on-edge.”

Mukuro scowled horribly, then picked up her plate and glass. She finished off the rest of her waffle as she walked back to the kitchen, then tossed her dishes into the sink.

I shouldn’t have been so shaken up by that, she pouted.

There was nothing to be done about it. Now that she was alone, she let herself stretch for a moment, work out the kink in her neck, and—

She suddenly realized her track jacket was very wrinkly.

It’s the same one from yesterday.

She’d put it on without thinking! That was dumb. She reached down to press out some folds, then felt something hard by her stomach. She put a hand inside and pulled out—

That video game system! The Funplane, wasn’t it? She’d forgotten all about this silly thing.

Her fingers moved over the buttons and readied themselves to play something. Mukuro wasn’t even thinking when she flipped on the switch. The screen flashed to life, and a futuristic red logo coalesced over a white background. After a second, the logo faded, and a setup screen filled with squares took its place. A black cursor automatically phased over the upper-left square, apparently the name of the cartridge that came with the system: Killfield 4.

The suddenness of what just happened struck Mukuro. Her movements had just been so natural and unthinking, as if her body just expected her to start playing this Killfield.

She puffed out her cheek. Maybe she did like video games? She’d barely explored her own likes and dislikes these past few days. It was possible, maybe even likely, that the Mukuro of old had many hobbies waiting to be rediscovered.

But who in the school would know about video games, of all things? Makoto had mentioned liking them, but Monokuma killed him, and Chihiro was the Ultimate Programmer, but she was dead, too.

The two best options to ask for advice, gone…

Her heart sank a little at the thought of Makoto, but Mukuro shook her head. There was no use dwelling on that right now. She peeked out of the kitchen and started counting her fellow students for who was likely to know about video games.

Hina, Sakura, Sayaka, definitely not… Taka probably thinks they’re a waste of time, Hiro’s too dumb, Celeste, no way, Kyoko, I doubt it, Byakuya wouldn’t give me the time of day even if he did, Toko probably thinks they’re beneath literature, Leon, I don’t know, Hifumi—

Oh, yes, of course. Hifumi was the closest thing in the world to an Ultimate Nerd. Except for the Ultimate Gamer, if that was even a real thing (unlikely!), he had to be the foremost authority on the subject.

Other students were starting to file out of the cafeteria to go about their business. When it was just Hifumi, Hina, Sayaka, and Leon left, Mukuro crept out of the kitchen and toward the lonesome Ultimate Fanfic Creator.

Hifumi was also one of the people I thought might be the second spy… Talking to him would give me more information about him!

Mukuro was momentarily proud of her brilliant little idea, then slowed her pace. Being suspicious of her fellow Killing Game participants was the exact thing Celeste had just advised her to do, the exact thing that she herself had argued against.

… but was it really hypocritical if she was genuinely going over to him to talk about a (potential) mutual interest?

No, she decided, mostly out of a desire not to admit Celeste’s point, and walked up behind Hifumi.

“Hi, Hifumi.”

“Yeeeeee!”

Hifumi yelped in surprise and bumped against his overfilled plate. A stack of pancakes wobbled, then collapsed onto his half-eaten waffles and eggs. His two breakfast glasses of diet soda also splashed up and down, but their contents luckily only landed in each other.

“Ms. Ikusaba!” he exclaimed, voice quavering, and he twisted around to face her. His rolls of fat flowed over the chair’s arm and dangled over the floor. “Wh—what are you doing here?”

Mukuro cocked her head. She thought it was pretty obvious, since she was holding the game system right in front of him.

Like with some of the other students, Mukuro had never really interacted with Hifumi before. She hadn’t realized how difficult it was to read some of his expressions. His circular glasses completely covered his eyes, and his sagging cheeks and multiple chins meant that half his face was in constant motion whenever he did more than breathe. Even worse, he was so starved for physical activity that he was covered in a perpetual sheen of sweat.

But… she was pretty sure he was sweating more than usual right now, and his chins were jiggling from something other than just normal movement.

He’s scared of me, she realized all at once.

She couldn’t see his eyes past his opaque lenses, but she was pretty sure he was watching her every movement like a hawk. But why? He hadn’t been like this before the trial.

The time in the gym?

Had Hifumi really been this nervous around her since then? If so, Mukuro had completely missed any indication of that. Her immediate reaction was to be annoyed, or perhaps unhappy, but…

If I’m that blind to other people’s emotions, then it’s at least sort of my own fault…

Mukuro smiled as warmly as she could, and was secretly relieved it was Hifumi she tried to conceal her emotions from, and not Kyoko or Byakuya.

“Hifumi!” she chirped, pretending not to notice his fear. She flipped the Funplane around so he could see the screen. “I wanted your advice on video game stuff.”

“O—oh,” he said. He wiped his brow with one of his sleeves, smearing an inexplicably greasy stain across its gray fabric. After a moment, he managed to comport himself, and took on a slightly more authoritative tone, though no more confident. “Yes, well, I am the resident expert on all things 2D. Er… if anything were to happen to me, there’d be no one else left who could… competently deal with such matters.”

Mukuro was slightly upset by the way he’d phrased that, but decided to let it drop.

“Yeah,” she said. “I found this video game system, but I don’t know anything about the game, so I came to you.”

“Oho!” Hifumi pushed up his glasses, then smiled. Light gleamed off the right lens, and all of his confidence returned. “Well then, you’ve come to the right place, Ms. Ikusaba! To properly write fanfiction, you must first consume the anime, manga, or game in question, so chances are I can indeed assist you.”

“What exactly… is fanfiction?” Mukuro asked.

In truth, she already had some idea, but—

“Super direct question, huh?” Hifumi crossed his arms. “I suppose that’s fitting, for you. Very well! Fanfiction is a holy crusade! A crusade to enlighten the unenlightened masses by summoning more of a fictional world into existence perhaps long after its creator has ‘moved on!’ An eternal battle waged against the forces of boredom and neglect! A war where soldiers march to cons and sell their wares, be it fiction, comics, or artwork, where dissemination of product, alternate paths for a canon property, and memory of decades-old anime means a victory!” He stood up, shaking the table, and slammed a fist into his open palm. “That is what fanfiction is!”

Is he… is he phrasing everything in battle terms because I’m the Ultimate Soldier?

Mukuro wasn’t sure how offended to be, but she was pretty sure the answer was at least “mildly.”

“So… Do you know about this video game?” she asked, moderately offended.

She handed the Funplane over to Hifumi, who took one look at it and shook his head.

“Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. “Yes, this is Killfield 4. Actually, it’s the sixth or eleventh Killfield, depending on how you count. Killfield 0 is considered a mainline title, as is Killfield: Drop Zone, but Killcraft is really more of a base-building-focused spinoff, while—”

As Hifumi went on, layers and layers of jargon began to consume his speech. About a minute passed, and there was probably a lot of information offered, but Mukuro understood maybe one out of every three words. It must have shown on her face how all of these technical details were lost on her, but Hifumi was definitely oblivious. Occasionally, he gestured to the Funplane to make some kind of point, but only God knew what it was.

“—whether an updated remaster with day one DLC that refocuses half the game’s stealth options to turn it into a half-FPS, half-stealth really constitutes a ‘mainline’ title or not is up for debate, but the original version still has some popularity among diehard fans.”

He handed the Funplane back to Mukuro, now with some extra grease on the buttons, and lifted a glass of soda up to his mouth. It took her a few seconds to realize that he was done talking. After a moment, she blinked, then scratched the back of her head.

“So… you’re a fan?” she asked.

“Of course not!” Hifumi pressed his hands to his hips and grew red. “It’s only really popular in the United States, and even there, it’s maybe the fourth most popular FPS. Complete trash series, it’s really just a knockoff of Medal of Death.”

“Oh… So, you’ve never written any fanfics of it, then?”

This clearly offended Hifumi, who crossed his arms and roared to the ceiling.

“Of course I have! Who do you think you’re talking to? But I’ve only written six fanfics and drawn a doujin. Of course, if you count crossovers, then it’s eighteen. Personally, I’m more of an RPG or visual novel fan, but the Funplane got a few ports of these kinds of games.”

Hifumi’s tone when he said “these kinds” made it clear what he thought of Killfield 4.

“Hm.” Mukuro hummed.

She leaned up against Hifumi’s table, then pressed to open the game. A short cutscene of a soldier tromping through mud started to play, which stopped once she pressed the A button, and a new screen of a smoking field littered with bodies appeared.

CAMPAIGN

ARCADE MODE

VERSUS

CONTINUE

OPTIONS

Automatically, she clicked Arcade Mode. One second later, she was at the edge of a field, half covered in dark grass and half in blood. Fires raged faraway, and black smoke covered the sky. A chorus of dying men screamed over the din of explosions, machine guns, and mortar shells. In the back of Mukuro’s mind, she could only think of one thing:

That’s not how tank treads sound when they roll over bloody mud pits.

The game was in first-person, so she could only see her character’s arm, but he was holding some kind of fictionalized version of an AK-47. His finger was already on the trigger even when he wasn’t aiming at anything.

Poor trigger discipline.

She pressed forward. Bullets whizzed by, yellow beams unrealistically trailing behind. Who would use tracer bullets in this situation? Ridiculous.

An enemy soldier appeared behind a concrete barricade—

She killed him in a second.

Ten more soldiers appeared, and a flashing orange tutorial marker suggested she take refuge behind the barricade she’d just freed up. But, instead…

Blam

Blam

Blam

Mukuro managed ten headshots without even thinking. One bullet killed four men in a row, and the other two killed three each. It wasn’t even hard. Deftly, she reloaded and continued, trampling their bodies underfoot.

It was all just a simulation, but Mukuro’s senses were on fire. She bit down on her lip, killing another fifteen men with six bullets, and jumped over a fence. A rundown gas station filled with enemy soldiers waited in the distance. A sniper shot rang out, and Mukuro ducked behind a tree.

Twenty minutes passed this way before, without warning, the Funplane shut off.

“Ah!”

Mukuro’s sweaty, excited hand pressed the power button several times. The only result was a yellow power symbol flashing on the screen. A red X laid over it.

“Dammit,” she mumbled. It was her own for not charging it first, she supposed.

She stashed the game system back into her jacket, then turned around. She’d completely forgotten about Hifumi.

He stood there behind, biting his fat fingers, watching her intently.

“Mm, Ms. Ikusaba…” he moaned. “You are… quite good at that.”

“I suppose,” She shrugged, then smiled at him. “I feel like I’ve played one of these before.”

She furrowed her brow. All of a sudden, she realized that Hifumi was shaking.

He’s scared of me again… because I was good at a video game?

“Hifumi…”

She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he pulled back.

“Err, uh… Well, Ms. Ikusaba, I hope you appreciate this foray into the realm of 2D!”

He hurriedly picked up what remained of his meal, then ran off to the kitchen without looking back.

Mukuro’s lips parted slightly. Confused, she pulled a hand over her chest, shocked at how hot her skin was. Her heart was beating so fast, and she didn’t understand why.

It really hurt when someone was scared of her.

-----

Mukuro swiped her hand up, caught Sakura by the wrist, and tossed her to the side. A second later, she swept her foot in a horizontal arc, but the larger girl was prepared, and twisted in the air to dodge.

Mukuro skipped backward, easily avoiding the next six blows that came her way, and backflipped to land on the gym’s stage. Sakura didn’t bother with the flourish, and just leapt up and landed beside her.

A punch, a parry, a kick, a dodge… A minute passed, neither girl able to actually land a strike. Sweat poured off both their bodies, but never blood.

She’s not holding back this time, Mukuro thought.

The Ultimate Soldier was, though. She let her body take control, as it had the first time, and watched herself fight the Ultimate Martial Artist… but this time, she kept herself more aware, more prepared. If her instinct was ever to jump back over to the bleachers…

“Enough!” Sakura growled.

Mukuro grunted in surprise. It took her a second to actually force her body to stop moving. Even after she froze in place, her fists were still reflexively raised.

“We’re not done, are we?” she asked.

“Mukuro,” Sakura said, wiping the sweat off her brow. “You are not taking this training seriously. I can sense your restraint.”

Mukuro finally let her arms fall to her sides.

“Well, yeah… After that other time—”

“No, you worry about something else.”

Mukuro looked down, annoyed at how easily she’d been read. After a moment, she eased herself to sit at the edge of the stage, dangling her legs over the gym floor. She scanned the room to make sure no one else was around, then nodded.

“I think Hifumi is still scared of me. Maybe that just got me a little upset. It’s not a big deal, but I guess it was still on my mind while we were fighting.”

“Hifumi?” Sakura crossed her arms. “I do not doubt his expertise in his field, but he knows nothing of combat or of killing intent.”

“I know!” Mukuro groaned. “I know, but I don’t like people being scared of me, you know?”

Sakura was silent for a while. At length, she jumped back down to the floor. So tall was she that, even sitting on the stage, Mukuro was still only at eye level with her.

“I understand,” the white-haired colossus rumbled, a little more gently than she ever had before. “I am… also familiar with the burden of others’ such judgments.”

Mukuro burned with shame.

“I must’ve made you feel the same way, that first day, huh?” she asked in a low voice. “When I first saw you, I jumped back in fear.” Sakura didn’t respond, so Mukuro continued. “Jeez, I didn’t even think of that. Now, all I see when I look at you is a friend who’s smarter than I am.”

Sakura shook her head.

“Smarter? No. But surer of herself? Perhaps.” She closed one eye, then examined Mukuro with the other. “It is an interesting thing, to be robbed of your memories, of your very self. I do not know if I would have handled it as deftly as you have. I suspect no one else would have.”

Mukuro shook her head.

“Deftly, huh?” She looked up to the ceiling. “All I ever feel is unsure of myself.”

“That is only a sign of your growth, or capacity for growth.” Sakura said. “Most people go their entire lives without consciously attempting to improve themselves. Your introspection is a good thing, Mukuro.”

Mukuro burned red again, uncertain of how to respond to this praise. Just being with Sakura was almost enough to siphon some of her strength and noble bearing. It was easy to see why Hina loved her so much; Sakura was an island of reliability in the raging sea that was the Killing Game. Even her admitting to being a spy hadn’t changed that at all.

After a while, Mukuro closed her eyes.

“Sakura,” she started. “Do you have any real goal with your training, or is the art of fighting the goal by itself?”

The question took the martial artist by surprise.

“Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking, what made me become the Ultimate Soldier? My profile kind of implied that as a kid, I just liked fighting and weapons. It sounds like I had no reason at all beyond that… And I’m pretty sure that’s correct.”

Sakura held a palm up to the ceiling, then squeezed it into a fist.

“I was born to inherit my family dojo and maintain its legacy. That has always been in my thoughts. For that purpose, my life was predestined for the path of the Ultimate Martial Artist… although, I do have another goal…”

Sakura trailed off, suddenly a touch less stoic than she normally was. She studied Mukuro for a moment before continuing.

“Well,” she said at length. “That is a tale for another time.”

“Sure,” Mukuro agreed, and jumped off the stage. She pulled out her e-Handbook and pressed the screen. “5:40 PM. Almost time for dinner.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.” Sakura said.

They started for the door. Mukuro cocked her head.

“Where’re you going?”

“To the warehouse. I go to pick up some protein powder every morning before breakfast, every evening before dinner, and every night before I sleep.”

“Pretty regular.” Mukuro observed.

“It is necessary. Anyone can take care of their body for a day, but to truly hone it, constant work is necessary, no matter the circumstance or complaints.”

“Complaints?” Mukuro asked. “Did someone complain about your diet?”

“Kyoko,” A smile tugged at the end of Sakura’s lips. “She called me ‘unbelievably careless’ to have such a regular schedule.”

“Huh.” Mukuro pursed her lips. “Celeste said something similar to me.”

Sakura grunted, clearly discontented at this news.

“Let us hope that is the only thing Kyoko shares with Celeste.”

Mukuro snickered at the joke, and even Sakura allowed herself a wider smile.

-----

Dinner passed without incident. The routine of the school was almost second nature now. Hina chattered excitedly about swimming in the pool, somehow still enthusiastic about the “new” part of the school even days after it opened up. Sakura was stoic, consuming her dinner and protein drink almost without comment. And Sayaka was still her shattered, despairing self, who sometimes followed Mukuro with her eyes.

The black-haired girl frowned and poked at a salad someone had made, slowly and quietly making her way through the greens. The conversation at the table went on without her. Her mind was solely on one thing:

Who can I trust?

The boys were the first to leave the cafeteria. As Kyoko predicted, Byakuya tricked Hiro into suggesting they go to the bathhouse. Mukuro watched them from afar, chewing on a tasteless piece of lettuce.

If Junko didn’t already know what we’re doing, the idea that Byakuya would ever agree to spend time with the others would be pretty suspicious.

She wondered what exactly they would talk about. The girls had had both Toko and Kyoko to listen to; the boys would be stuck with just Byakuya’s spin on things.

Mukuro was suddenly overcome by a gigantic yawn. She stretched her arms above her head without thinking, and looked over to the clock on the wall.

7:15 PM…

Whether it was from the exertion of fighting Sakura, her lack of sleep the previous night, or just all of the thinking she’d been doing all day, Mukuro was a little tired.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed early,” she said.

“You sure?” Hina asked, a little alarmed.

“Yeah. I’m just beat. See ya guys tomorrow.”

She disposed of her dishes in the kitchen, then made her way out of the cafeteria. She was the first girl to get tired, and she noticed Celeste’s eyes linger on her for a few moments.

“Goodnight, Mukuro.” said the gothic girl, very pleasantly.

Mukuro waved back to her a little awkwardly, then left into the brightly-lit hallways. It occurred to her that in all of her memories, Mukuro had never actually seen a real window.

Who knows? she thought ruefully. Could be I’ve never seen a window in my entire life.

Mukuro’s stomach growled. That little salad hadn’t really satisfied her, but she didn’t want to go back and see everyone again.

I could pull a Hina… Grab some donuts from the warehouse…

As soon as she had the idea, Mukuro knew she would make it a reality. She spun on her heels, made for the warehouse hallway, and froze.

The gate to the second floor of the dorms didn’t look quite right. She eyed it intently, studying it as much as she could from the distance of fifty feet or so. There was definitely something wrong with it, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

It reminded her very much like the other times the gates had been open, only to close as soon as she looked away. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the gate would be back to normal if she took her eyes off it.

Quietly, she took a test step toward the iron bars.

Nothing happened.

She pressed a hand against the wall, tracing her finger along the plaster, and took another few steps, waiting for the gate to do… something.

Nothing happened.

Mukuro steeled herself and took off running straight down the hallway. She had never actually tried to run at full speed before, and found, to her mild surprise and panic, that she was much faster than she expected. The iron bars grew larger faster than she meant them to, and she feared she might barrel into them and hurt herself.

Just before she reached the gate, Mukuro dropped to the floor and slid the last ten or so feet, ready for anything.

Nothing happened.

She lay on her back on the floor, feet pressed against the bars. She kicked one of them, and a metal clunk clamored in the hallway.

Loose.

Mukuro hefted herself into a sitting position and grabbed the bars with her fingers. She shook as hard as she could. The bars were definitely loose this time.

The gate’s down, but not locked properly.

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. Someone opened the gate and went upstairs, but didn’t lock it after closing it! But who?

The boys are all together right now, and the girls are all in the cafeteria…

That meant one of two things. Either someone went up there earlier, came down, and forgot to lock the gate behind them… or someone was up there right now, and that person was Junko Enoshima.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Either thing was almost impossible to believe. The idea that the spy would just forget to lock the gate was unlikely, but the idea that the mastermind would forget was outright ridiculous.

With all her strength, Mukuro stood up and lifted the bars. They slid up into the ceiling easily. The stairs were wide open.

Do I get the others…

It wasn’t an easy choice. If one of the girls was the second spy, alerting them all to this discovery could have major negative consequences. This chance could be lost forever! On the other hand, if Junko wasn’t up there, she might be watching on the cameras, and going up alone would be risky and stupid.

Mukuro jumped a few times on her heels, then punched the air.

I’m always hesitating. She licked her lips. Right now, I want to be risky and stupid.

She stepped forward, lowered the gate behind her, and barreled up the stairs without a second thought.

She gasped when she saw what was waiting for her. For a long time, she simply looked forward in disbelief and confusion.

A hallway stretched out in front of her, very much like the one downstairs, except in one important way: it was completely destroyed. Walls and ceilings had collapsed, great scars ran across the floor, and rubble was everywhere. Rusty or damaged rebar stuck out of holes all across the hallway, sometimes hanging so low that she would have to duck to get around it. Boulder-sized pieces of the ceiling had fallen blocked half of the floor. Dust and bits of plaster covered everything, and just stepping into this mess had kicked some up into the air, sending Mukuro into an awful sneezing fit.

When she opened her eyes again, she half-expected to wake up in bed.

The lights were very dim, partly because some of the bulbs were old and partly because other light fixtures were just broken. The shadows ran very long, and Mukuro couldn’t quite see to the end of the hallway, even though it was straight and narrow.

It looks like a warzone.

Without thinking, she reached a hand out to the nearest wall and traced a finger along a thin marking.

Knife, she thought. No blood, so he missed.

Judging by the dust, whatever happened here had happened more than a year ago, perhaps even longer than that. Mukuro kicked one of the fallen chunks of ceiling, and it didn’t move an inch. It must have weighed a thousand pounds or more, and she just now realized the floor tiles around it were cracked and destroyed where it had smashed.

A chill ran down her spine, and not just because of the eerie location. The air conditioning and heating that kept the rest of the school nice and temperate was absent here. Mukuro rolled down her track jacket’s sleeves and slipped her hands into her pockets. Even then, she still lifted her shoulders and pressed her chin to her chest.

What the hell happened here?

Unconsciously, she started down the hallway. Her feet knew to step around the fallen bits of rubble. She looked for the nearest camera or monitor, hoping there was a way to avoid Junko’s eyes and ears, and realized, to her shock, that there were none around.

If this place hasn’t been touched in a year, and there are no cameras… She licked her lips. Then the cameras and monitors were installed after Junko wiped our memories, and she never intended for us to be up here!

Mukuro moved forward slowly, until the darkness so enveloped her that she could see only ten or so feet ahead of her. She could no longer walk properly through the rubble; instead, she had to push her feet along the floor, knocking the bits of ceiling and plaster out of the way to avoid stepping on them.

Just as she was about to turn back, she saw something gleaming in the distance. It was a long, vertical rectangle of yellow light, just barely visible through the blackness of the broken floor.

A door!

All thoughts of returning to the warehouse for a flashlight exited her mind. Suddenly, Mukuro was possessed by the absolute need to open that door. She pressed on through the rubble, kicking more dust into the air and sneezing a hundred more times. Tears filled her eyes and turned the yellow light into a watery haze, but it didn’t matter.

Finally, she reached the wall. It was too dark to see any knobs, so she pressed her hands against its surface and searched. Her right palm made contact with a round piece of metal, and she twisted it and pushed.

Light exploded out of the room and blinded her.

“Argh!”

Mukuro covered her eyes with the crook of her elbow, grimacing and cursing herself for not thinking of something so obvious. She could feel her retinas bursting into flame.

Stupid, stupid!

After perhaps half a minute, she dared to move her arm just slightly, keeping her forearm an inch away to use as a shield. Light flooded into her eyes, but it wasn’t as bad as before. By degrees, she lowered her arm, until at last she was staring right through the door.

It was an office. The walls and floor were made of varnished wood. Carefully-laid couches and coffee tables were arranged in a half-square in the center of the room, a black shelf full of obvious alcohol behind them. Another shelf held row after row of thickly-bound books with a lengthy titles and important-looking spines. A tall plastic potted plant raised in the corner of the room, and a professional-looking desk was pushed against the wall.

As horrible as Hope’s Peak Academy was, it was still definitely a school. The classrooms, the gym, the dorms… They all had that sense of adolescence and slight childishness to them, just twisted by the evil and cruelty of Monokuma. This room felt completely different, like something out of an office building for a banker or a lawyer. There was zero room for doubt: this was a place only adults were ever meant to see.

Unlike the rest of the floor, the temperature and lighting here still worked fine. Mukuro would have felt completely at ease but for how starkly this place clashed against everything else in the school, against every other place she had memories of. She entered the room and shivered from unease rather than cold.

As soon as she shut the door behind her, her foot made contact with something solid on the wooden floor. Mukuro looked down and found a brown leather notebook, the kind a student might jot notes down in. In a place that was otherwise well-organized and professional, this piece of litter was horribly out of place.

She kneeled down and took it into her hands. Out of simple curiosity, she flipped through its mostly blank pages until she came to a few long paragraphs written out in the clean, meticulous handwriting of a girl.

There’s a plan to turn Hope’s Peak into a shelter, and isolate the students here in a communal life.

Mukuro’s heart raced. What had she just stumbled onto?

I decided to talk to the one who came up with the plan directly. It just so happens to be the headmaster – and my father. He was willing to give me some more details regarding the plan. Here's what he said… “The point is to keep our student prodigies safe, to keep them as our hope for the future. Only their genius can overcome disaster, and only their hope can overcome despair. For the future of our country, our world, it's not an exaggeration to call this our final hope. We must isolate our superior youth from the corrupted world, to serve as the foundation for a new era. This is the only hope we have. I hope that you'll be willing to go along with this plan.” So that’s what my father had to say to me. As usual, he made a selfish decision without consulting anyone else. I can't imagine a worse father.

Question marks spun through the Ultimate Soldier’s head. Someone here was the child of the headmaster? She flipped through more pages, hoping to find something else concrete, but there were just pages and pages of blank paper.

Just before she gave up, Mukuro found a disorganized scrawl on the last two pages of the pocketbook. It was the same handwriting, but far messier. There were just two sentences written:

Despair walks among us. And so, we survive… There’s a second “despair.”

“A second despair?” she said aloud, hoping it would somehow lend meaning to the cryptic phrase. Of course, it didn’t help.

She looked up from the book, still horribly confused, and toward the computer on the desk. Mukuro’s mind flashed back to the one in the library, and her heart sank at the idea of a second broken machine.

But when she tapped a key at random, the screen came to life. She yelped in shock and delight. She slipped the notebook into her pocket and fell into the rolling chair by the desk, heart racing at the promise of secret information.

She pulled up the desktop, a simple black background emblazoned with the logo of Hope’s Peak, and searched. There was no internet connection, and therefore no way to call for help, but three files did stand out to her:

Headmaster ID

Ultimate Despair – Research

Door Code

Without thinking, she double-clicked Headmaster ID. As promised, it loaded a PDF image with a photo of the headmaster. A man in his late thirties stared impassively back at the camera. He was dressed in the same black business suit you could find anywhere in Japan, and he had short, dark hair with a clean, professional cut. He might very well have been the most unremarkable-looking man in the world. Mukuro’s eyes slid off of him almost as soon as she saw him.

To the side, lines of data listed all of his personal details. His height, his weight, the subjects he was capable of teaching (Composition and History), and, finally, his name.

Jin Kirigiri

Mukuro’s eyebrows shot off of her face.

Kirigiri’s an unusual last name, she thought. He must be Kyoko’s father.

She cocked her head and looked into Headmaster Kirigiri’s eyes, searching him for a resemblance to the lavender-haired girl she knew. But there was nothing. He could have been a stranger.

How many times have I seen your face? she wondered. How many times did we see you in the halls, knowing that you were Kyoko’s dad?

Even accounting for her amnesia, Kyoko seemed like a very guarded person. It must have irked her to be the daughter of someone so important.

Mukuro sighed and clicked out of the PDF. Next, she clicked the mysteriously titled Ultimate Despair – Research file. This opened up a long document, some hundred pages of text and photographs. It was way too much to read in one sitting, but there was helpfully a synopsis at the top.

Since the Tragedy, I’ve dedicated as much of my time and resources as possible to researching the Ultimate Despair.

“Ultimate Despair…” Mukuro mouthed.

That’s right! She’d heard that name before, or more specifically, remembered it. It was during that flashback to torturing that Ultimate Housekeeper woman, Chisa. Mukuro cringed back at the thought, but she couldn’t afford to avoid it. She knew she’d been trying to turn Chisa into an Ultimate Despair…

“An” Ultimate Despair… as in, more than one?

That sort of implied that Mukuro herself was an Ultimate Despair, too. She grimaced at how easily that title slipped onto her, but forced herself to keep reading.

First of all, I’m certain the Ultimate Despair(s) account for more than one person. They may be just two, or a group. Crucial to understand is their motivation – or rather, lack thereof. They act simply for the sake of despair itself. Reasoning with them is an impossibility, because they don’t actually want anything except to spread chaos and to ruin the world as much as they can. I believe they might also even harm themselves and their own families, physically and emotionally, in an attempt to feel further despair.

I had my doubts of this at first, but further investigation leaves no room for doubt. The Ultimate Despairs are responsible for the Tragedy, the worst, most despair-inducing incident in the history of mankind, their fallout, and the shutdown of Hope’s Peak. The Student Council killing game was orchestrated by one of their number, and I am absolutely confident that that person exists in the school. I’ve interviewed the faculty too thoroughly for there to be any chance of error here; they’re all clean. Useless, in many cases, but none of them could be an Ultimate Despair.

This leaves only the possibility that one or more of the students we cordoned off in the building are responsible. This fits the timeline, as the Student Council massacre happened shortly after the 78^th Class was accepted. At least one student is an Ultimate Despair, and perhaps more. However, I have no idea who it could be. All of my efforts right now are spent on trying to uncover their identity, but I lack any talent for detective work, and I cannot entrust this task to a student without first confirming that they aren’t part of the group. I only pray that my daughter isn’t one of them.

For now, the class must be allowed to believe they are sequestered purely for their own safety. The Ultimate Despairs are the most dangerous, terrible threat to the world.

Mukuro finished the synopsis. Her face was white.

I’m the Ultimate Despair here, she knew with certainty. I’m the one who killed all those people.

Her head spun, and she sank into the chair. She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, trying and failing to block out the world from her mind. Her hands clawed up to her shoulders and hugged her body, but it offered no comfort. Her throat was instantly hoarse, and she heaved loudly in awful, pathetic sobs. Spittle leapt out of her lips and splashed against her breasts.

Despair, despair, despair…

She’d never feel another emotion again. She would never deserve to feel another emotion again, and that just made her feel even worse. And that despair, that very thing she felt now, she’d used in the past to summon up something called “the Tragedy,” to massacre the Student Council, and to lobotomize a poor, innocent woman. The very feeling she was giving into was itself a weapon she’d used to kill children. How dare she let herself feel that way, how dare she let it seize control of her like this? But that realization itself just plunged her into even further despair, an infinite hole of darkness from which there was no escape.

She screamed as loudly as she could. She was so skilled and strong and effortlessly powerful, and yet so weak before an emotion everyone else in the world could live with.

After a while, Mukuro’s voice and bawling gave way, and degenerated into just a feeble, sniveling whimper. At some point, she’d fallen onto the floor and dug herself underneath the desk. She huddled in the fetal position, breathing in short gasps. Eventually, her body grew still. She vaguely felt dried drool around her lips.

I don’t even remember hurting those people, she despaired. I can’t even properly feel guilt over it.

She shut her eyes so hard that it hurt. The faceless ghosts of those she’d hurt danced before her.

After what might have been an hour, Mukuro’s body was too drained to even feel despair. She would carry this turmoil with her, but as she grew calmer, one spark of hope shone in the darkness around her. There was one modicum, one tiny speck that might undo, or at least mitigate, her crimes.

Please, let Kyoko have been right, she prayed. Let me have tried to stop Junko, and had second thoughts about it all, and that’s why I lost my memories…

Was it a blessing to have lost her memories like that? To have been reset to a time before she was an Ultimate Despair?

I can’t ever regain those memories. I can’t ever let myself regain them…

There could be no worse fate than returning to the Mukuro Ikusaba of old.

A fate I deserve…

She’d have to confess it all. Go the others in the bathhouse and tell them everything. In fact, she should have done that to begin with. They deserved to know how dangerous and crazy she was, if only to be able to defend themselves against her. Afterwards, she could hole up in her dorm and never leave, and in that way be certain she wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Yes, that was the way. That was the only reasonable thing she could do.

Mukuro pulled herself out from under the desk, grabbed the chair with a shaking hand, and made herself stand. She wobbled on her feet, but she could probably get back to the first floor alright.

Gotta find the others, she thought. Gotta tell them everything.

She looked over to the computer one last time, and suddenly remembered—

The other file.

She sucked in a gasp of air, then sighed.

Fine, she thought. Fully explore the computer, THEN tell the others right away.

She closed Jin Kirigiri’s research, then clicked the last file: Door Code.

Unlike the others, this just opened a simple gray bar to input a password. Mukuro shook her head. Guessing something like that was completely impossible, but she’d already dedicated herself to “fully explore the computer.”

She only owed it once chance. One shot at the password, then go talk to the others. What was the laziest, weakest password possible?

She quickly typed in Kyoko Kirigiri, knowing it was wrong, and hit Enter.

The wall beside her rumbled. The despair disappeared, replaced by alertness and surprise. A few feet away, part of the wooden wall slid backward and into itself, and revealed the door to a hidden room. Mukuro stood there for what might have been a full minute, completely dumbfounded.

Eventually, she regained her senses and peered inside the secret room. It was a small room with concrete walls and a variety of metal pipes. Like the hallway outside, there was a chill draft that froze her skin.

Three pieces of furniture were inside: a circular table, a set of shelves, and a desk. On the table was a goofily-wrapped birthday present box, on the shelf was a picture frame, and on the desk were a few scattered papers.

Swallowing hard, Mukuro entered the room. Her first instinct was the present. The ridiculous, colorful wrapping paper stood out so thoroughly from anything else she’d seen in Hope’s Peak, especially the bleak desolation of the dorms’ second floor and the professional atmosphere of the office, that no one could possibly look at anything else.

For that reason, she stepped around it like a landmine, hoping against logic that putting it off until last would make whatever surprise it held less terrifying.

Mukuro’s eyes darted between the desk and picture on the shelf. Eventually, she went for the desk. The papers on its surface were yellow and deckled. A quick scan of them revealed they were just years-old bills for school supplies, as useless as they were uninteresting.

She threw open a drawer, but it was empty. The next drawer was empty as well. When she bent down to open the next and lowest drawer, she was certain she’d find nothing.

Thud

She bit the inside of her cheek. Something made of solid metal smashed inside of the wooden drawer. She looked inside and found…

An e-Handbook.

Mukuro wiped the thick dust off its surface, revealing sky blue metal. A red warning label on its bottom-right read IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.

A handbook with no limitations, given to the school’s ultimate authority…

This was the power to enter anywhere in the school barred electronically. It weighed as much as a truck. Her hands were shaking.

Mukuro slipped it into her pants pocket, next to her real handbook. She wasn’t sure what she’d use it for, but there would definitely be something useful for it to do later.

Next came the photo on the shelf. This one was much simpler to deal with than the desk, but perhaps represented more.

Even from across the room, it was obvious what this was: Jin Kirigiri lifting up his daughter into the air. Kyoko was maybe five or six in the picture, but it was unmistakably her.

She hasn’t changed her haircut in ten years…

Mukuro managed a weak smile as she picked up the faded photograph. This would be a cute present for Kyoko; she’d probably love to see that her father kept this in his office.

She stared at it for a little while, studying the little girl. She was smiling and laughing and acting nothing at all like the young woman who now wandered Hope’s Peak. Mukuro wiped her thumb over the glass frame and cleaned the section over the little girl’s face.

When did she change…?

A better question occurred to her a moment later: Why did she change?

It was none of Mukuro’s business, and yet…

What if she’s the spy? What if she’s an Ultimate Despair?

It wasn’t impossible. This cute little girl could have survived some horrible trauma, been scarred and left feeling hollow and despairful. Hell, that was probably what had happened to Mukuro.

No! I’m just making excuses.

Mukuro shook her head to clear it. All of that was just an excuse not to tell the others about her own history. She had no good reason to suspect Kyoko. She couldn’t let her resolve waver. The others had to know the truth.

She slipped the frame into another pocket and put it out of her mind. There was only one thing left to do now, and then she could return to Kyoko and the others and tell them about what she found.

Putting off the present until last hadn’t helped at all. She stared at the ridiculous wrapping paper for seconds. A million possibilities rolled through her mind, none of them good. In fact, whatever was in there had to have been left by Junko or the spy. It had to either be dangerous or some kind of taunt, right? So, there was no point in opening it.

Her feet took her to the table, and her hands grabbed the box.

She tugged the shiny orange ribbon that secured the sides to the top. It fell to the floor without a sound. Trembling, she reached a hand over the top’s edge and pulled it off as slowly as she could, waiting for it to explode or burst into spikes or shoot out poison gas. When it didn’t, she peeked inside a corner of the box and bit down hard on her cheek.

It was bones.

She didn’t yell out, which surprised her. In fact, her entire body relaxed as soon as she saw them. A white skull with a cracked frontal lobe smiled up at her, resting on a bed of ribs and arm bones.

Adult man, she knew instantly, though she had no idea how. Young or middle-aged.

Mukuro felt utterly calm as she looked over this last remnant of a man’s life. She didn’t feel sadness, despair, or even surprise… She didn’t even feel numb. This was the most mundane thing in the world to her. And yet, though her heart seemed to have room only for boredom, she also felt disgust and shame for being this undisturbed.

She shook her head and traced a finger across the bones. They felt weak and fragmented, as if they might break apart at too strong a touch. To test this, she picked up a rib between her thumb and forefinger and pressed down. It crumbled to dust in a second. His death must have been agonizing.

Jin Kirigiri… A good man who tried to protect us… Who would be most likely to think it’s funny to put him into a childish box like this?

There was only one answer, of course. The headmaster directly wrote it in his research for anyone to see:

I believe they might also even harm themselves and their own families, physically and emotionally, in an attempt to feel further despair…

The Ultimate Despairs could even target their own families… Mukuro swallowed, and thought back to her blonde sister on the bed, begging for mercy. Jin Kirigiri’s words echoed in her mind:

I only pray that my daughter isn’t one of them.

Chapter Text

Ding dong bing bong

“Good morning, everyone!”

Mukuro Ikusaba grunted, but she didn’t open her eyes. The lights were still off, and the world was pure black before her. She smacked her lips, forming and breaking thin strands of saliva between them.

“It is now 7 AM,” the shrill voice continued. “And nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!”

The Ultimate Soldier lay on her sheets for a while, breathing slowly and steadily, trying to empty her mind. She could feel the burdens of a thousand ideas and concerns brushing against the surface of her consciousness, but couldn’t yet stir herself to think about them. The pressure was overwhelming; as soon as she stirred, as soon as she allowed herself to think even a single word or feel any emotion except exhaustion, it would all come roaring down and bury her in a mountain of paranoia and despair.

Dammit…

And so it all came back: Junko Enoshima, the second spy, the dead headmaster, her sister on the DVD, and her yet-unknown sins as an Ultimate Despair. There was so much to unpack that Mukuro didn’t even remember the killing game itself for minutes.

She rubbed her eyes, then rolled onto her naked stomach. At some point last night, she must have pulled off the track suit and left it on her sheets, though she had no memory of that. Buried within the nylon jacket, she could feel something cold, metal, and rectangular.

She lazily reached a hand around her body, but her arm was still half-asleep, and it wouldn’t quite obey her finer commands. Her fingers just hung listlessly, numb and useless. Eventually, she managed to push the back of her wrist against the object.

She recognized it at once: Jin Kirigiri’s e-Handbook. Somewhere nearby was the photo of Kyoko as a child.

Kyoko…

Mukuro growled and pressed her cheek against the pillow. Saliva dripped out of her mouth and stained the sheets. It killed her to distrust Kyoko. Even worse, she couldn’t admit the truth of her Ultimate Despair status to the others, not until she’d worked out the truth of the spy business.

She stood up as quickly as she could, bundled the e-Handbook and photo into her unwashed jacket, and stuffed it all into a drawer in her desk. Those were problems to be dealt with by that bitch Future Mukuro, who would no doubt be distressed and confused and helpless the entire time.

-----

Hina exited the kitchen, her face scrunched up in deep concentration. She juggled four different plastic trays in her hands. The acrobatic prowess necessary for the task might have been impressive in another context, but right now, Mukuro’s attention was drawn only to the contents of those trays. Across the table from her, Sakura’s head also raised in surprise. Only the still-shattered Sayaka remained unmoved.

On each of the trays was the Ultimate Swimmer’s latest and most terrible creation: the donut sandwich. The bottom donuts were chocolate, the top donuts were vanilla, and stuffed between them was jam-on-lettuce mixed with condiments Mukuro couldn’t quite identify… and an entire extra jelly donut each, broken into crumbs and scattered over the lettuce. The donuts themselves were glued together with peanut butter to keep them from flying apart. They were an act against God and science, a Frankenstein’s Monster of culinary bad taste that no sane person would have even birthed into the world of man.

Around Hina, others students raised their eyebrows in confusion, then pursed their lips in disgust. Even the normally composed Byakuya pulled away from this “breakfast,” sweating and gawking in disbelief. Only one person looked impressed at her hard work.

“Ye-hah!” Hiro shouted. He’d happened to be walking past her, and reached down one of his long arms and thoughtlessly plucked one of the donut sandwiches from its tray. Before she could respond, he took an enormous bite. Hiro was one of the largest students, outmatched only by Sakura, but even he could only bite down on about one-and-a-half donuts at a time. “Not bad!” he complimented, spewing crumbs everywhere.

“Hiro, you jerk!” Impressively, Hina shifted the three trays that still had donuts on them onto one hand, then used her free hand to slap Hiro’s arm with the remaining tray. “I made those for the girls at my table! Now there’s not enough for everyone!”

Mukuro stood up instantly.

“Oh no!” she mocked concern, and started babbling before Sakura could interject. “Well, Hina, you know what, I’m disappointed, but I’ll just get some cereal.”

Hina’s bottom lip curled into her mouth in frustration at the tall, dreadlocked idiot, but Mukuro was (not so) secretly thankful for his stupidity. She didn’t look back at Sakura, whom she hoped would forgive her for this minor betrayal. Others who understood why she’d been so quick to volunteer not to have one of Hina’s creations reacted with amusement. Toko snickered from across the room, Leon, Taka, and Celeste laughed, and even Kyoko broke a smile. Even Byakuya seemed at ease.

“I can’t imagine the state of mind necessary to make something that disgusting,” he commented.

“That’s okay, you jerk,” Hina stuck out her tongue. “You’ll never need to, ‘cause no one’ll ever make you something with love like this!”

Mukuro passed Hina, and the two shared a grin. For once, everything was right in the world.

Ding dong bing bong

Everyone froze. The monitor hanging from the cafeteria ceiling sparked to life. Monokuma appeared before them on his throne.

“Wellllllllp!” he said through a yawn, though the robot body didn’t really move. “I hope you’ve all enjoying your breakfast. Growing bodies need all the food they can get! Anyway… it’s 7:30 right now, so… how’s about we all meet up in the gym at 8:00 AM? Attendance is mandatory, of course. After all, it’s important that everyone be there for the next motive.”

He said that last part so casually…

The monitor switched off, and the friendly atmosphere was instantly ruined. Mukuro could hear everyone’s hearts beating rapidly, see their faces shining with sweat underneath the ceiling lights. A few sets of eyes turned to the blue-haired idol sitting by Sakura, each of them remembering how the first motive had spurred her to murder.

Mukuro’s hands pulled into fists, then released, then pulled back. The bones in her knuckles cracked. Like many of the others, she was shaking. Her eyes darted from student to student. Byakuya had pulled out a file from the library archives and was leafing through it, pretending not to worry. Kyoko’s eyes were closed; she was lost deep in thought. Toko bit down on her thumb, Taka crossed his arms and paced, Hifumi stuffed three croissants in his mouth at once, Leon rapped his fingers against a table, Celeste sipped a cup of tea, Hiro waved his hand over a crystal ball, and Hina pressed up against Sakura for warmth and support.

There was one hope, though: Kyoko’s plan. Tonight, everyone would find some excuse to assemble in the bathhouse, and they’d all work together to defeat Monokuma’s plans.

After what Makoto did, after what we learned about Junko and our memories, I know that no one could ever kill again…

Each time Mukuro’s heart beat, her chest grew tighter.

-----

The first time Monokuma had given out a motive, everyone had run to the AV Room in a disorganized mess. This time was different. No words were exchanged, not even insults by Byakuya or Toko. At 7:50, everyone simply stood up from their benches in the cafeteria, disposed of their plates in the kitchen, and gathered into a large group.

The twelve students marched down the school’s first floor together. The air was silent but for the echoes of their footsteps. Byakuya led the way, flanked by Toko and Kyoko. In the back, Hina slowly led the still-white faced and broken Sayaka, holding and patting her hand the entire way. Somewhere in the middle, Mukuro fiddled with her fingers, pressing them together again and again, thinking.

Were they collected together like this to show solidarity against the bear’s evil intentions? To bask in the mutual safety offered by the fact that no killer could strike when so many people were together? Or was it just out of resignation?

Mukuro wasn’t sure.

Byakuya threw open the doors to the gym. In the distance on the stage, Mukuro spied a table. A red cloth was draped over it. Her heart was pounding.

We all know it’s Junko Enoshima now, she thought. It’s just a girl our own age, and not some unknowable mystery with alien motives…

No… only she knew that. Only she knew the truth behind the Ultimate Despair. She would have to tell the others after this, some way or another.

One by one, the students assembled before the stage. Byakuya, Kyoko, and Sakura stood closest, while the rest of the class mulled somewhere behind them. Celeste in particular stood in the back where no one could see her, twirling long strands of hair in her fingers.

Mukuro steeled herself, then walked up to the stage to stand beside the Ultimate Martial Artist. She knew there was no chance Monokuma would actually attack anyone, but… just in case, it was obviously their job to protect the others.

If only this could be solved with just brute force…

Mukuro remembered her dream from days ago, the one where she fought an army of Monokumas. It was so easy to believe that something like that was real, that—

A flash of black and white from the stage, and Monokuma jumped into the air. He landed comfortably on his feet on the table with an exaggerated flourish, then bowed to his captive audience.

“Welcome, welcome!” he shrilled. “It’s always exciting, isn’t it? Each time we announce a new motive! What’s it gonna be, what’s it gonna be?! Ooooohhh, my fur is standing on its ends!”

“Get to the point.” Byakuya ordered.

Monokuma just cocked his head, then tapped a claw against his chin.

“Oh? Does Mr. Togami have better things to do than listen to his headmaster?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Byakuya said, completely humorlessly. “Like anything.”

“That’s the problem with you kids today,” Monokuma sighed. “No respect for authority, none at all!”

“That is incorrect!” Taka shouted. He shoved a finger at their headmaster. “We have nothing but respect for earned, relevant officials! You are just some psychopath! There is nothing you can say that will push us toward murdering each other again!”

“Yeah!” Hina joined in. “Besides, even the first murder wasn’t really a murder! It was just an accident!”

“I agree,” Celeste cooed. “You rather discredited your entire game from the start by executing someone undeserving.”

“Oh? Oh, oh, oh?!” Monokuma laughed. “What’s this, what’s this? You think you’re all above killing each other? That you’ve made friendships that’ll last lifetimes and forged unbreakable bonds? Well, that’s great!” He jumped up and threw his hands into the air. “If you really do want embrace the communal high school life in Hope’s Peak, then I’m just as excited as if we were in the midst of a class trial!”

“Haha,” Hiro shook his head from side to side. “You just don’t get it, do you? We’re onto your stupid tricks, J—ouch!”

Leon slammed a shoulder into his chest to stop him from saying Monokuma’s real name. Almost every face turned to him in disbelief. Even Hiro seemed to momentarily recognize the depths of his own stupidity, and he shrank back and scratched his head.

“Onto your stupid tricks, J… erk.” he finished, rather lamely.

Mukuro shot daggers at him. She wasn’t the only one. Monokuma didn’t seem to notice, though, or at least he gave no indication he had.

“Hm…” The bear tapped a claw at his chin again. “Maybe I should add a rule against insulting the headmaster… Well, that’s a decision for another day. For now, I’ll reveal our super-exciting, super-amazing, super-wonderful new motive!”

He reached both hands behind his back. For a moment, Mukuro feared he would pull out something dangerous or horrible.

When he showed his hands again, they were holding twelve white envelopes. A name was scribbled on each of them, though Mukuro could only see Hifumi and Toko from where she was standing.

“This is the Secrets motive!” Monokuma announced. “Each of these envelopes has a piece of paper inside. On each of piece of paper is written your greatest, darkest, most terrible secret, the thing you want kept hidden more than anything else in the world.”

Mukuro sucked in a gasp of air through her teeth.

I have so many secrets I don’t want to tell the others, and that’s just the stuff I already know… What else does Junko know about me that would destroy me in their eyes?

Her legs were jelly. She wasn’t going to be able to stand after this.

“Of course, you may not believe me,” he kept going. “You may be thinking, ‘I’ve never told anyone about that thing, so Monokuma can’t know possibly about it.’ If that’s the case, then please, allow your headmaster to dispel those illusions.”

He threw the envelopes down onto the stage. Various names were visible for all to see: Hifumi, Leon, Sayaka, Toko, and Mukuro. After this, he waved a hand over the crowd.

“If there’s no murder in twenty-four hours, I will reveal all of these secrets for the entire school to hear. No one will ever look at you the same way again, if they can stand looking at you again at all after learning what you did.”

“This will not work!” Taka bellowed again. “There is no such thing as a secret worth killing for!”

Monokuma didn’t respond at all. Instead, he just bounced away, leaving twelve worried, confused students in his wake.

Toko was the first to rush up to the stage and grab her envelope. She ran to the nearest wall, nearly tripping over her long skirt, and pressed her back against it so no one could look over her shoulder. Trembling and fumbling over the paper, she ripped the of the envelope open with one loud tearing sound and shook her head.

“N—no, no, no, no,” she whispered, stumbling to unfold the paper. Her eyes darted over it, and her face turned blue. Foam formed at the edges of her mouth, and she pulled on her two long braids in frustration and fear. “Nooooooooooo!”

Sakura took and read hers calmly.

“Interesting…” was all she said.

Taka’s jaw fell as soon as he read his.

“How… how does he even know about this?” he asked, as confused as he was dismayed.

Everyone had a similar, though unique, reaction. Byakuya made a tsk sound at his, Kyoko read hers in quiet contemplation, Hiro growled and pressed his hands to his temples, Leon kicked at the floor, Hifumi bit his entire hand, and Hina turned bright red and buried her chin in her chest. Besides Toko, who covered her eyes and kept chanting “no, no, no” to herself, the most obviously dismayed was Celeste. All traces of her normal elegance and grace were gone. Instead, a vein visibly popped out of her forehead as she read hers, and she bared her teeth at the paper as if trying to scare it into submission.

Okay, Mukuro thought. Toko and Celeste have the worst secrets. Gotta keep an eye on them, but that’s fine, neither is a serious danger by herself. This could be a lot worse.

Despite this, Mukuro struggled to remain calm. There could be anything written on hers. Monokuma could even make something up from her past, and there’d be no way for her to deny it or defend herself… and even the things she did know about herself were damning. Once more, she sympathized with the panicking, bespectacled girl with glasses.

Only two envelopes remained. Hina gathered up Sayaka’s and offered it.

“Here,” she said gently. “Here, Sayaka, if you want it…” The idol’s eyes flickered down to the paper, but she didn’t move for it. Hina gasped and waved it again. Sayaka’s eyes followed it. “Okay!” Hina pumped a fist and slipped Sayaka’s secret into her own jacket. “When you’re ready, I’ll give this to you right away.”

Mukuro licked her lips. She was the last one left. Everyone else was paying attention to their own paper, or else was lost in thought or pacing in anger. No one was paying attention to her.

She grabbed her envelope and ripped it open. Before she could read it, she pressed the paper against her breasts. She was terrified, but she had to keep herself from overreacting. Everyone knew that Monokuma twisted the truth. Everyone knew that people make mistakes. There was nothing on this paper that would make the others hate her. There was nothing that could tempt her to murder.

“It can’t be that bad, it can’t be that bad, it can’t be that bad…” she whispered.

She held her breath for what seemed like an entire minute. At last, she managed to force her hand away from her chest and read the paper.

Mukuro Ikusaba has an incestuous gay crush on her own sister.

She breathed out all at once, then breathed in. Air had never tasted sweeter. She laughed slowly, deeply, and craned her neck so she’d face the ceiling, flush with relief. This was disgusting and horrible, and she’d have to bury her head in the dirt to avoid looking anyone in the eyes ever again… but it had nothing to do with the killing game.

-----

Mukuro sighed, a little discontent. Mostly, she felt numb. The bright lights on the ceiling, the crisp air from the AC, the hard walls she leaned against – all of them were faraway sensations she barely noticed. Only her ears seemed to work, and only then to hear the sound of her own heartbeats.

Thump

Thump

Thump

She stood in the doorway between the cafeteria and dorm hallways, leaning against the frame. The taste of one of Hina’s jelly donuts still lingered on her tongue. Across the way, she saw the bathhouse. It was 7:57, and the meeting time to discuss the motive was 8:00 PM. Students were already “accidentally” bumping into each other as they entered. Most of the class was already inside, save for Kyoko, Toko, and herself.

I can’t believe it… she sighed. My secret’s just super embarrassing, but it’s not that bad…

Of course, she still didn’t want to reveal it. She wouldn’t even be able to defend herself from it. She could just imagine everyone looking at her with disgust…

If only I could just destroy it…

Mukuro thought again and again about how to avoid revealing her secret, but there was only one option: kill someone.

My second motive video said that even if I get caught, I won’t get executed… I could just confess immediately, and…

Somehow, Makoto’s words from the trial echoed in her mind:

“You can trust Sayaka and Mukuro, they’re both good people.”

Her mouth went dry. How dare she think about that even as a joke? It was a betrayal of Makoto’s and the others’ trust.

In the distance, she saw the dark, cowering form of a girl with braided pigtails. Toko paced back and forth, biting one thumb and crushing a piece of paper in frustration with her other hand. Mukuro could almost hear the girl growling and cursing to herself, but eventually, the Ultimate Writing Prodigy slinked into the bathhouse to join the others.

Even Toko has the courage to face whatever’s on her paper. I should be ashamed of myself.

Mukuro looked up to the clock on the wall: 7:59. She nodded to herself a few times, then pulled away from the doorframe to stand on her own two feet. Soon enough, she was almost at the bathhouse…

Stay calm, stay calm… The others won’t hate you for this. It’s not that bad.

“Hiya!”

Mukuro jumped back what might have been the length of her entire body and raised her fists against Monokuma, who stood in the center of the hallway. He cocked his head and mocked confusion.

“What’s up, Mukuro?” he asked.

She hesitated for a moment, then lowered her fists. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d almost destroyed the paper.

“I’m… gonna take a bath…” she said.

“Oh, my! Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear!” He raised his paws and laughed. “Don’t you know there are a bunch of boys in there?”

He knows what we’re really doing in there, but he doesn’t know that Sakura told us she told him, so I’m not supposed to know that he knows…

Her head started throbbing.

“They’re just boys,” she said, annoyed. “Get out of my way.”

“Well, I suppose teens will be teens! I don’t normally let students know what’s on the upper floors they can’t reach yet, but just as a friendly warning, there are no abortion clinics.”

Mukuro’s vision went red.

“Shut up!”

“Heehee! Guess it doesn’t matter to you, though, what with Makoto dead.” Monokuma tapped a paw on his chin. “Actually, do the rules cover it if one of you gets teen pregnant, and someone else kills the baby after it pops out? Hm… I didn’t think about that when I wrote them…”

“One day, someone’s going to kick your teeth in,” Mukuro sneered. “The real you.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing Makoto’s dead,” he kept going, completely ignoring the threat. “Yeesh! Pity the baby that comes outta you! That flat chest of yours probably can’t—”

Mukuro raised a fist to slap him down. She only narrowly restrained herself.

“Get out of my way!” she spat.

“Oh sure, sure, we here at Hope’s Peak fully understand you adolescents’ growing needs. Just one more thing, and then I’ll be gone.”

Mukuro lowered her hand.

“What is it?” she said, voice dripping with venom.

“Those boys you’re going to meet… Do you think they’ll be disgusted by your secret?”

She scoffed.

“It’s… First off, the girls will be just as grossed out, and second off, I don’t… Even if it was true once, it’s not true anymore.”

“How do you know? Maybe the moment you see your sister again, you’ll fall to your knees and beg her for a good time.”

Mukuro turned green. The idea of that…

“No.”

“Well, tell you what, Mukuro,” he clapped his paws together. “If you get down on your knees and beg, I’ll replace your secret with something else. Something like how you’re a terrible murderer or responsible for untold death and destruction.”

Mukuro shook her head, then feigned a as much confidence as she could.

“I’m done with that,” she declared, voice even and powerful. “I believe you when you say that I killed people in the past, but that doesn’t mean it has to control me forever.”

Monokuma burst out laughing, sending a chill down Mukuro’s spine. Whatever confidence she actually did feel instantly evaporated.

“Are you trying to live up to Makoto’s expectations of you?” he shrilled.

She thrust a hand at him, then pointed a finger.

“So what if I am?” she demanded. “So what if I am?!”

“I hate to be the bear-er of bad news, but Makoto’s a thing of the past, just like all of the crimes you committed. If you still feel the weight of one of them on your shoulders, then you should feel the weight of both.”

Mukuro’s body suddenly felt a thousand times heavier. She wobbled on her feet for a moment, then half-ran, half-fell onto the nearby wall. Without its support, she would have crumbled to her knees. Her eyes dropped to her quavering feet.

He says two sentences, and I almost collapse…

Time passed, and she realized she wasn’t breathing. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and looked up – but Monokuma was gone. Someone else stood in his place, someone with a dark violet jacket and lavender hair.

“You need to stop letting him get to you.” she said.

Mukuro stared up at Kyoko, wondering how much of a mess she herself must have looked like. Probably her face was white. Probably her hair was wild. Probably she was covered in sweat.

Kyoko might’ve been a spy, but right now, she was the only person Mukuro could talk to.

“I can’t…” she wheezed. Her throat was very tight. “Every time he says anything… He’s always right.”

Kyoko’s eyes slid down to the crumpled paper in Mukuro’s hand. Without thinking, Mukuro pulled it behind her back. She knew it only made her look guiltier.

“Come on,” Kyoko said, and turned to the doorway. “Let’s go take a bath.”

-----

“Alright!” Taka shouted. “So begins the first late night Special Motive Meeting!”

He stood rigid and upright at the door separating the changing room from the bathhouse proper. Ten pairs of eyes scattered throughout the room looked up to him.

Hina and Sayaka sat on one of the benches, Hifumi on another. Celeste sat by a counter in the back of the room, far away from anyone else. Toko was at the same counter, though on the opposite end, rocking back and forth, grasping and ungrasping the paper in her hand. Everyone else leaned against the walls or stood around the room, save Sakura, who hovered over Hina and Sayaka. Mukuro herself stood by the exit to the dorm rooms, her thoughts still lingering on Monokuma’s words.

Most confusing of all was Byakuya. That he was present wasn’t a surprise – but for some reason, he was holding a small bag of flour. Normally, he was always very considerate and proud of his appearance, but here he didn’t seem to mind the loose white powder sticking to his fingers. Mukuro wasn’t the only one curious about it, but no one said a word.

Hina sat with Sayaka, holding her hand and patting her gently on the shoulder. Briefly, she looked away from her ward and to Taka.

“Why did you name the meeting?” she asked.

“N—never mind that!” Toko stuttered. “A—aren’t you suggesting w—with that name that th—there’ll be more meetings like this?”

“Well, of course!” Taka nodded. “After this motive fails to compel us to murder, Monokuma will surely invent new motives, all of which will warrant discussions on how to properly thwart them.”

There was a murmur of general approval through the room. Most of the students seemed to agree that this made sense.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ishimaru,” said Hifumi. “But what exactly are you planning?”

“Well… Isn’t it obvious?” Taka crossed his arms, then scanned the crowd. “We’re going to reveal our secrets here and now, so there’s no reason to kill anyone over them in the future.”

Mukuro’s heart sank. She’d known that was coming, it was obviously coming, but it still hurt to hear.

“I—I don’t like that idea!” Toko tugged at one of her braids. “W—we should vote on it!”

“Feh!” Taka shook his head. “If our memories truly were erased by Junko Enoshima, and we truly were schoolmates for months or even years, then there’s an excellent chance that all of us already knew each other’s secrets anyway, and either didn’t care or forgave them. In fact, that’s the only explanation for how Junko could have even known my secret in the first place, since I’ve never told anyone… to my knowledge, at least. This is nothing but a step toward reestablishing our prior relationships!”

“I agree with Toko,” Celeste said. “I want to vote on it.”

Now confronted by two dissenters, Taka sighed.

“Fine. All in favor of revealing our secrets immediately?”

Taka’s hand shot up first. To Mukuro’s absolute shock, Byakuya’s was next. A few moments passed, then Sakura and Hina joined them.

“All against revealing our secrets?” Taka asked.

Toko’s and Celeste’s hands raised instantly, then so did Hifumi’s. Hiro hesitated for a second, then also raised his hand.

Taka tapped one of his feet.

“A tie… That is deeply unfortunate. Kyoko, Mukuro, and Leon! May I assume you all abstain?”

“That’s right.” Kyoko said.

“Uh… yeah, sorry…” Mukuro agreed.

“Don’t really care.” Leon muttered.

“Then we must also count Sayaka as another abs—”

Gasps around the room, none louder than from Hina. Everyone’s heads turned to the blue-haired girl on the bench, whose hand slowly and weakly raised into the air above her knees. Her eyes still looked dimly into space, but the tiniest bit of color returned to her cheeks.

“S—Sayaka!” Hina made two fists, then looked directly into her eyes. “Are you okay?! Are you back to normal?!”

Sayaka’s lips parted very briefly, then formed into a shape. If she made a sound, Mukuro couldn’t hear it. Hina leaned in and hovered an ear an inch away from her.

“She said she votes to reveal!” Hina shouted.

“Hold on a moment,” Celeste interjected. “As I recall, you confiscated her secret for her, did you not? Does Sayaka even know what she’ll be revealing?”

Hina was about to respond, but then her face scrunched up. Sayaka whispered something else that only she could hear.

“She says she doesn’t care about what’s on it.” Hina translated.

There was another murmur throughout the room. Over it, Toko made some kind of ugly, watery growling noise.

“Very well!” Taka pumped a fist, then beamed. “I have taken the liberty of preparing twelve straws to draw, each of which has a number written on them.” He pulled a hand into his uniform, then produced the straws. Mukuro stared longingly at the 12 straw. “I will hold them, and we will go around in order from one-to-twelve, announcing our secrets. But! After each person reads their secret, they will be given time to explain it. No doubt Monokuma has left out crucial context in an attempt to make us all look worse to each other – this will be an easy way to combat him.”

He hid the straws behind his back for a moment, randomized them, and held out a fist. The numbers were hidden inside.

“Mukuro, you first.” he said.

She grabbed one at the edge, then slowly pulled it out. Both she and Taka watched it carefully. The number on its tip said 12.

Huh… Maybe I’ve got Makoto’s luck.

“Hifumi! You next!”

Mukuro watched the others pick their own straws absently, not really paying attention. She’d been so relieved that her secret wasn’t about anything evil she’d done that she’d barely considered how disgusting it was. It still wasn’t worth killing for, but…

God, I’ll never be able to look anyone in the eyes ever again.

She looked up to Sayaka. There was a straw in one of her hands, but Mukuro didn’t know if she’d picked it out, or if Hina had just taken two and given one to her.

“Alright!” Taka shouted. “Who has the 1 straw?”

“Aw, hell!” Leon groaned. He kicked the floor twice, then crossed his arms. “Fine, fine, it’s fine. I’ll say it.”

“That’s good, Leon,” Taka crossed his arms. “And everyone, remember: no one should criticize anyone or hold anything against them, no matter how awful their secret may be.”

Leon pulled out his paper from a pocket, unfolded it, and cleared his throat.

“‘Leon Kuwata damaged a cop car, then let another kid get arrested for it and imprisoned for six months.’”

“Leon!” Taka thrust a finger into his face. “That is unforgivable, you absolute monster!”

“Taka,” Kyoko said. “I believe you promised each of us would have a chance to explain ourselves.”

“Oh, yes,” Taka looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Bah!” Leon shook his head. “Look, I hit a homerun without thinking, the ball smashed into a cop’s window. I didn’t think, I just pointed to this other kid named Kai and said he did it, and the cop didn’t even ask questions, just hauled him off. I didn’t know Kai already had a criminal record, so the punishment was way worse than I expected.”

Leon flushed red, waiting for someone else to jump on him, but nothing happened. Byakauya, Toko, Celeste, and Kyoko clearly didn’t care about his crime, and the others all seemed to accept the explanation without too much difficulty. Only Taka still seemed offended.

“Well,” Leon said at last. “I guess that’s that. Heh… That wasn’t too bad.” He wiped a trickle of sweat off of his brow. “Haha! That was supposed to make me murder someone? Get fucked, Junko.”

“Who’s next?” Taka asked. No one volunteered. “Come on, seriously? Your secret can’t possibly be worth murdering someone over.”

He stomped to each student one at a time, inspecting their straws, until he reached Hifumi.

“Hifumi! Your straw clearly says 2!”

“O… oh, yes, it does…” he grumbled. “I thought it said… 12…”

“Liar! Read your secret at once!”

Hifumi stood up from his bench, adjusted his tie, and craned his neck to the ceiling. Only when everyone’s eyes fell on him did he finally pull out his paper.

“Er… Well, I…” He cleared his throat. “‘Hifumi Yamada broke into a used panty vending machine and stole all of the contents.’”

A moment passed, then every girl except Sayaka and Kyoko instinctively pulled away from him. He bit down on his pudgy fingers, spewing sweat and saliva everywhere.

“Er… It’s not as bad as it sounds!” he squeaked. “Ah… Well… You see, it was a bet! Yes, my friends and I had an ongoing bet to steal vending machine contents, and I just happened to—”

“G—god, you’re the w—worst!” Toko interrupted.

For once, everyone seemed to agree with her. Burning red with humiliation, Hifumi sat down on his bench. He buried his chin in his chest and didn’t look up.

“I’m next,” Hina muttered, fiddling with her 3 straw. “Um… Everyone, please promise not to laugh…”

“This is a matter of life and death, Hina,” Sakura offered, as soothingly as her rough voice would allow. “None of us will laugh at you.”

“Alright. Alright!” Hina pumped her fists, then pulled out her paper. “Umm… ‘Aoi Asahina has never kissed a boy.’”

Hiro burst out laughing. Hina hid her face in Sayaka’s shoulder.

“Nooooo!” she cried.

“Haha, sorry, Hina!” He raised a hand in apology. “Like, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just that these secrets have been super lame so far. I was thinking that maybe my reading was right when it said there’ll only be one murder…”

Byakuya shook his head, clearly annoyed.

“Speak for yourself,” he said, still playing with the unexplained bag of flour. “At least one person here has a secret worth killing for, or else Monokuma wouldn’t have bothered with the motive.”

“Are you volunteering to tell us yours next?” Taka asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Byakuya flicked his 4 straw over to Taka. It clattered on the floor a second later. “‘Byakuya Togami accidentally crashed the stock market, costing Japan twenty billion dollars and prompting thirteen people to commit suicide.’”

A deafening silence filled the air. Even Mukuro briefly forgot her worries.

“Are you fucking for real?” Leon asked, dumbly.

“Not that it matters,” Byakuya grinned, beaming condescension. “But it was when I was eleven. I had just made my first billion day trading, and I didn’t quite realize how stupid the average man was compared to a Togami. I invested a bit too much here and there, and there was brief panic. That’s all.”

“Thirteen people committed suicide?!” Hiro grabbed his head and screamed. “That’s, like, an unlucky number, man!”

“I’m done with my explanation,” Byakuya said simply, then tossed the bag of flour from one hand to the other. White powder caked both of his sleeves. “Move on to the next ingrate.”

Like with Hifumi, no one volunteered to reveal their number. Taka groaned again, then went student-to-student, examining their straws, until…

“Celeste!” He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Come on! You know you’re next!”

She sucked in her lips, clearly upset.

“I voted against this,” Celeste said, angrily pulling at one of her pigtails. “I… I don’t want to.”

Hina jumped in before Taka could start shouting again.

“Celeste,” she said sympathetically. “No one will be upset, no matter what it is.”

“It’s not like that… I wouldn’t care even if it did say I did something illegal.” Celeste stuck her nose up into the air. “My secret is wrong. Monokuma is wrong.”

“He hasn’t been wrong so far…” Hifumi muttered.

Celeste shot him a hateful glare, and he shrank back so far that he fell right off the bench and onto the floor.

“Enough, you worthless fool,” Byakuya snapped. “Stop wasting our time on your nonsense and just tell us.”

Celeste tapped a finger on the wall, then pulled out her paper.

“Mine says… It says…” She sucked in her lips, then crushed the paper. Her hand was trembling. “It’s wrong, I tell you, it’s w—”

Byakuya’s hand shot out and ripped the paper from her hand.

“‘Celestia Ludenberg’s real name is Taeko Yasuhiro, she was born in Utsunomiya, not Europe, and she has no noble blood of any kind.’” he said all in one breath.

Celeste, or perhaps Taeko, steamed for several seconds. Her face contorted into one of absolute rage, and she seemed about to leap onto Byakuya and strangle him—

Then she huffed, picked up her lacey skirts, and marched to another corner of the room. She faced away from everyone and buried her face in the shadow.

“What a waste of a secret,” Byakuya spat, throwing the paper away. “I almost want someone to have something serious, if only to be more entertaining.”

“I suppose I’m next,” Kyoko sighed, then tossed the 6 straw into a trash can. “I’ll be brief. ‘Kyoko Kirigiri wears gloves because she has disgusting, disfiguring scars all over her hands.’”

The room fell silent again.

“Kyoko…” Hina started, her voice soft and kind.

“I’m not embarrassed about them,” Kyoko said, but the words came out so sharply that anyone could tell she was lying. “I got them in a fire, nothing more to be said. Hiro is right. It’s a pathetic secret.”

“I am next,” Sakura rumbled. “‘Sakura Ogami is not really the Ultimate Martial Artist.’”

Everyone looked over to the massive, rippling giant in their midst, imagining how in the world she could be anything else.

“You sure about that?” Leon asked incredulously.

“I assume this secret refers to a boy named Kenshiro,” Sakura explained. “He is my rival. We are the two greatest martial artists on Earth, at least that I know of. Our battles have been many… but in truth, he is my superior.” She looked to the ceiling, then closed her eyes. Mukuro sensed the turmoil within her. “He is afflicted by a deadly illness. When I last saw him, he’d lost so much weight that he could barely stand… He may already be dead.” She crossed her arms, then stared ahead into the wall. “The true Ultimate Martial Artist battles an enemy that cannot be overcome with strength or skill, while I have the fortune to have been born healthy. Monokuma is right: I don’t deserve this title.”

“No!” Hina leapt up to Sakura and hugged one of her rippling arms. “You’re the best fighter in the universe. You’d have beaten that Kenshiro guy eventually… and even if you didn’t, I’m still glad we got to meet and be friends.”

Sakura’s stoic calmness cracked for a moment. She looked down to her feet, ashamed.

“… Thank you, Hina.”

Mukuro smiled at the sight of their friendship. Even Sayaka managed to crane her neck slightly to watch them.

“Who’s got the 8 straw?” Taka pressed, ignoring how everyone (except Byakuya and Toko) was warmed by the scene.

“Haha, you’re looking at him!” Hiro announced, then flicked his straw onto the counter. “Right… So, like, here we go. ‘Yasuhiro Hagakure knows that his story about aliens stealing his hamburger is fake.’”

Everyone looked at him, flabbergasted.

“Well, I never got to tell any of you that story!” he shouted. “It’s really, really good! But… uh… Well, look, I—”

“Be quiet.” Celeste snapped, and Hiro promptly obeyed. She’d managed to comport herself after her secret’s reveal, and returned to the counter. “Who is number 9?”

“I am!” Taka announced. “Please don’t judge me too harshly for this. ‘Kiyotaka Ishimaru once helped another student cheat on a test.’” He raised a hand before anyone could respond. “This is why I insisted on time to give context! I know my behavior was unforgivable, but please! Hiroto, my friend, had broken his leg in an accident, but the teacher wouldn’t give him an extension for the test, so when I saw him look over his shoulder at my paper, I… said nothing.” He raised his hands to his chin, and tears streamed out of his eyes. “I’m so sorry!”

“What a disappointment.” Byakuya muttered, and tossed the bag of flour from hand to hand again.

“Wh—what?!” Taka was still crying, but he looked to each of his classmates in turn. “You all… forgive me?”

“Jeez, man,” Leon groaned. “Get a fucking life.”

“Number 10 is next.” Kyoko said quietly.

“Oh, I think that’s Sayaka.” Hina said. She pulled away from Sakura, then pat a hand on the idol’s knee. “Can you read yours?”

Sayaka’s lips puffed out for a second. Her face was still bone white. Hina shook her head, then hugged her shoulders.

“Do you want me to read yours?” Sayaka nodded almost imperceptibly, and Hina made a fist. “Okay!”

She pulled Sayaka’s unopened envelope from her pocket, then stood up. She ripped it open, scanned it, and her eyes shrank into tiny dots.

“Ah… Ahhh…”

Hina’s own face went as white as her friend’s. Her mouth hung open, and then she sucked in her lips.

“S… Sayaka, I…”

“Just read the thing,” Byakuya demanded. “I have things to do.”

Hina fell onto her knees in front of Sayaka, crying, and pat her on the leg several times.

“I… I don’t want to read this.” she groaned.

Byakuya held out his hand.

“Give it to me, and I’ll do it.”

“No!” Hina violently pulled the paper to her chest. “Just… Just give me a second.”

She made sure no one could look over Sayaka’s shoulders, then tenderly revealed the paper to her. This time, even Mukuro could hear the noise that came out of the idol’s lips. It was the most awful, despairful, grieving mumble she’d ever heard, something that only someone who’d totally given up on life could produce.

Sayaka crumbled away and landed on her back, laying on the bench. She closed her eyes and tried to drown out the world. Her chest heaved up and down, and she sobbed horribly.

Mukuro ran over and placed her hands on her friend’s shoulders to support her.

My friend…?

Had she really thought of Sayaka as a friend this entire time?

“Jeez,” Hiro mumbled. “You don’t have to read it.”

“No, she does.” Byakuya said, completely devoid of sympathy.

Sayaka cried for another few moments, then slowly opened one eye to face the completely distraught Hina. Her blue eye was so much larger and deeper than Mukuro had ever remembered…

No matter what it is, I have to support her.

She steeled herself, and hugged Sayaka. For her part, the grieving girl on the bench just slightly nodded to Hina, who screwed up her face, wiped away her own tears, and stood up.

“Okay.” Hina said. “Ah… I’m really sorry, Sayaka.” She raised the paper to chest-level, then cleared her throat several times. “‘Sayaka Maizono… slept with five different producers to get on stage for the first time.’”

This time, the silence was even worse than before. No one said a word. Taka looked away, burning with rage, and even Toko looked like she wanted to hug Sayaka.

Mukuro slung an arm underneath Sayaka’s back, then hugged her as hard as she could. The weeping, wretched girl in her arms was so fragile that she felt like she might snap to pieces in a second.

“Don’t worry,” Hina said as soothingly as possible. “No one will ever tell anyone outside this room.”

Sayaka somehow found the strength to flip onto her stomach. She laid her arms on the bench, then pushed her face into them until it disappeared. Mukuro and Hina comforted her for a few minutes, during which no one spoke.

When at last Sayaka had calmed down, or at least run out of tears, Byakuya opened his mouth. He tossed the bag of flour between his hands for a few seconds before actually speaking.

“Well, now that that’s over with… We’ve only got two left.”

Mukuro licked her lips. Herself and Toko…

She’s the one who reacted worst to seeing her secret…

Toko bit down hard on her thumb, then pulled out her paper. It was covered in so much sweat that Mukuro could practically see through it in places, and Toko’s hands never stopped shaking.

“U—um!” She looked down to her secret. “M—mine says… ‘Toko Fukawa… p—plagiarized the o—opening paragraph in her novel So Lingers the Ocean.’” Her lips twisted into a weak, nervous smile. “Uh… I h—hope you guys… will forgive me for th—”

“That’s a lie.” Byakuya interrupted. “She’s Genocide Jack.”

Toko fell back onto the floor and landed on her butt. She shook her head back and forth for several seconds, looking completely terrified… but no one else really responded, except with confusion. Almost everyone just looked dumbfounded.

“N—no!” she managed, trying to defend herself. “Master B—Byakuya, it d—doesn’t say that!”

“Excuse me,” Kyoko asked. “Do you mean Genocide Jack, the serial killer?”

“Yes,” Byakuya said. “The famous serial killer who’s killed dozens of people,” he explained, a little disinterested. “Toko has dissociative identity disorder, also known as a split personality. Her other identity is an extremely annoying idiot who likes murdering attractive men with novelty scissors. Isn’t that right?”

“N—no!” Toko said. “Y—you’re making that u—up!”

Byakuya smiled evilly. Without a word, he tossed the bag of flour into the air. It arced for a second, then hit the floor right between Toko’s feet. A puff of white powder exploded up and over her face, and her eyes went wide with shock and betrayal.

She sneezed, and in that moment, her entire demeanor changed. Her eyes thinned and grew more certain, her awkward, cringing movements gave way to confident, powerful ones, and her tongue hung right out of her mouth.

Toko’s legs flipped around for a moment, and then she launched herself into the air with the grace and skill of an Olympic athlete. She landed crouching on the counter, and the entire room shook. It was like a completely different, completely unhinged person now inhabited her body.

Mukuro’s instincts screamed one word at her:

Danger!

Sakura zoomed in front of Toko, hands raised and ready to defend the others. Mukuro rushed to the other students nearest her, which were Celeste and Hifumi, shoved them into the safety provided by the crowd everyone else formed, and instinctively grabbed a glass bottle from the counter. She shattered it on a bench, then raised it as a weapon. Most of the rest of the room pulled back in fear and confusion, though Byakuya remained unmoved. Even Sayaka craned her neck to watch the scene.

For a long time, no one said a word. Then—

“Eeeheeeheee!” Toko cackled, sounding very much like a fairytale witch. “Well, well, well! Looks like the secret’s out, huh?”

Even her voice was nothing like the normal Toko’s. It was screeching and high-pitched and almost physically painful to hear. She moved her hands over her belly, then cried out in laughter again.

“Ohhhh man, my face’s covered in white stuff, and not the kind I like!” Her long tongue rounded her lips, slurping up all of the white powder. She twirled over to Byakuya, then leaned down so they were at eye-level. “Did Master betray little Miss Morose’s secret? I bet he diiiiiid!”

“Woah, like, Toko…?” Hiro cocked his head. “What’s going on, man?”

“She’s so intense!” Hina gulped.

“This can’t be the Genocide Jack,” Taka said, shaking his head. “Surely not…”

“Ugh, it’s the Dweeb Patrol.” Toko shook her head. “First of all, don’t call me that. Toko is the boring one nobody likes. I’m the fun one!” She slapped her chest several times, sending clouds of flour into the air. Each time, her tongue (which seemed to almost extend beyond human limitations) bounced around in her lips. “She writes books, but I’m the one people write books about!”

“So, you admit to being Genocide Jack?” Kyoko asked. It was amazing how calm her voice was.

“Sure, why not? What’re you gonna do about it?” Jack slid down on the counter to sit, then reached over to hug Byakuya. He pulled away just in time, and she grabbed only air. “We switch whenever Miss Morose goes unconscious or sneezes. Haha, she left me a letter, saying she’d met our knight in shining armor!” She slapped her hands together in front of her face and drooled. “And she was right! But… I knew Master Byakuya was too smart to let this go on for long. Ha! And my other self thinks she’s the smart one.”

“Hold on,” Leon addressed Byakuya. “Toko’s a serial killer, and she told you?”

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. “She came to me a few days ago, whining about this ‘murderous fiend who lives inside me,’ and blaming her for her bleak outlook on life. She’s got only herself to blame for telling me her tragic little tale – I never went to her asking about it. All I did was make her promise not to kill anyone during the game.”

“Hey, she made good on that!” Jack announced. She pulled a pair of scissors seemingly out of thin air. Sakura raised a fist in response, but Jack didn’t seem to notice. “She wrote me a message saying that if I didn’t kill anyone, Master Byakuya would go on a date with us!”

“That never happened.” Byakuya instantly said.

“Awww, I know why you betrayed us,” Jack laughed. “You were worried that as the cutest boy here, I’d eventually come for ya!”

“Crawl into a hole and die.” Byakuya sneered.

“For you? I would!” Jack’s scissors disappeared, and she clapped her hands together again.

“How can you talk so casually about murdering people?” Taka demanded. “You’re… insane!”

Mukuro was barely able to keep up with this entire conversation. Toko, or Jack, was just gleefully admitting to being a serial killer? It made her head spin.

“You… just go around murdering people?” Hina asked. She maneuvered herself between Jack and Sayaka, sweating profusely.

“No, no, no! Jeez, aren’t you listening, Tits?!” Jack clawed at Byakuya’s face, but he kept just out of reach. “I’m an artist, the Ultimate Murderous Fiend, and I take that as seriously as you take your breast implants.”

“Wh—” Hina flushed red. “I don’t—”

“I only kill cute boys!” Jack continued. “Master Byakuya here is a 10/10, the crème de la crème, the perfect ingredient to my cute boy stew… if Miss Morose hadn’t begged me not to, that is.” She gave a light, high-pitched sigh, then sat on the counter. “Oh well… I can wait until this stupid game is over.”

Leon’s entire face was blue.

“Wait, so like… you might kill us boys?”

“You?” Jack squinted for a moment, examining him. “Bleh, no. If Master Byakuya is the perfect ingredient, then you, dreadlock idiot, and Stick-up-the-Ass are the shit in the back of the fridge that expired two years ago.”

“W—what about me, Miss Murderous Fiend?” Hifumi inquired.

She didn’t even respond. Everyone remained where they were, processing the bizarreness of the situation, as Jack idly played with one of her scissors, snapping them open and closed every few seconds.

“I suppose I’ll be the one to ask this,” Taka said, maneuvering closer to her (though still standing behind Sakura). “Genocide Jack! Are you in league with our captor?”

“Nope.” Jack yawned. “I have less than no idea what’s going on here, actually. Miss Morose left me a letter saying that if I killed anyone, we’d both get executed by a robot bear? To be honest, I didn’t really understand that part. But I don’t want to get executed by anyone, and Master Byakuya asked so nicely, so I haven’t killed anyone… yet.”

“Hold on,” Kyoko crossed her arms, then stared right at Jack. “Do you not share Toko’s memories?”

“Oh, God! I sure don’t, and that’s a blessing. She’s soooo boring! I only share her emotions.” She launched herself off of the counter and behind Byakuya. This time, he failed to escape, and she hugged him with all her might, spreading the flour all over him. Sakura moved to intercept her, but when she realized this wasn’t exactly hostile, settled for slowly maneuvering around her instead of attacking. “Besides basic information, mostly boring everyday stuff like ‘what is a car durrr,’ we don’t know what the other one gets up to.”

Jack seemed about to continue, then cocked her head. Her eyes darted to each student, then she released Byakuya. He pat down his uniform and quickly moved to the opposite side of the room.

“Hold on a minute, is this everyone in the class?” Jack asked. “Where the hell is Makoto? He’s worth a stab or two.”

Even with Jack’s obnoxious, ridiculous appearance, the mood of the room grew more somber.

She giggled insanely.

“Ahahaha, oh, he died! Dammit! I was thinking about killing him, too!”

Mukuro set down the broken bottle she’d taken up as a weapon, then made a fist.

“You… you monster!” she roared. “Makoto was a good person!”

“Good for killing!” Jack laughed, then slammed a fist on the counter. “Seems like someone else agreed with me, too! Was it a robot bear-related execution?”

Mukuro was a second away from strangling her before Kyoko pulled a hand onto her shoulder.

“Hold on,” Kyoko said. “You said you needed Toko’s letter to understand what was going on with the killing game.”

“Yep, that’s right!” Jack nodded her head several times, sending her tongue flying everywhere. “You’re a good listener, Key-oko.”

“If you don’t share her memories, then how do you know about Makoto? I’m sure he would have mentioned it if he’d met you.”

“What, what, whaaat?!” Jack stared ahead to Kyoko, then locked eyes with each of the other classmates in turn. Only Sakura and Mukuro could match her gaze. After a moment, she seemed to understand something, and bit down hard on her thumb. “So that’s what’s been happening around here…”

“What’s been happening?” Kyoko pressed.

“Ha! As if I’d tell you!” Jack cackled again. “There’s nothing in the universe that would make me tell—”

“Tell us.” Byakuya said.

“Okay!” Jack pulled herself up with one hand, then dropped onto the counter to lay across it. She tapped a pair of scissors along its edge. Kyoko motioned to Sakura, who lowered her fists, though obviously remained ready for a fight. “All you idiots, and also Master Byakuya, lost your memories.”

“We already knew that!” Mukuro said. “But do you know how much of our memories we lost?”

“Nope!” Jack laughed. “Though it’s probably a lot. I’ve got a ton of memories of Hope’s Peak with you lot, pretending to be my other self. Even back then, Master Byakuya knew about me. It was so much fun to reintroduce myself to him!”

“What?!” Byakuya looked incensed. “How did you not mention this to me in private?!”

“I thought we were playing a game where you pretended not to know me!” Jack shrugged. “You played that game with us all the time whenever we annoyed you too much.”

Byakuya was about to snap at her, then bit his lip and looked away, frustrated at what was probably the truth. Kyoko just tapped a hand against her chin, deep in thought.

“No, that’s actually a lie!” Jack grabbed her sides, then screamed as she laughed, kicking her legs up and down along the counter. “I knew you forgot!”

“Then why—”

“‘Cause I knew you hated me, so I thought that if I had another go-around, I might be able to make you like me instead!”

“But I still hate you.”

“I know! It was a terrible plan!”

Jack slammed her fist on the counter several times, howling in laughter.

“The memory-wiping procedure…” Kyoko muttered. “It must have affected Toko differently…”

“Honestly,” Jack continued. “I probably should’ve figured it out sooner when things reset the second time, but I wasn’t really paying much attention.”

“‘Reset the second time?’” Mukuro asked. “What does that mean?”

“Huh? Don’t you know?” Jack tossed one of the errant straws at her. “Last time I saw you, you you’d gotten into an argument with the giantess over there. Big Mac was dying, Master Byakuya was screaming about your tattoo… None of this ring a bell?”

“We lost our memories, you absolute idiot!” Byakuya said, barely keeping himself together. “You already knew that!”

“Oh… Yeah, I did!” Jack laughed again, rolling across the counter. “I’ll tell ya more, if you give me a kiss!”

“I’d rather kiss a toilet.” he sneered.

“My toilet?” she offered, brightly.

“Explain!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighed. “I don’t really know all the details, though. We were all in the gym, including Big Mac, Cherry, and the biker idiot.”

“Big Mac being Makoto,” Kyoko said. “And Cherry… Chihiro?”

“Yep, yep! Dunno what happened exactly, but Big Mac was on the floor, speared through the body with an actual spear. I don’t even know where you buy one of those! He was all ‘blegh I’m dying,’ except not, because he was unconscious and bleeding everywhere. I woke up to find Pukuro standing behind me, dressed like Junky, in a fight with Little Miss Big.” She motioned over at Sakura. Suddenly, her face changed, and she seemed furious. “Hey! I just realized! Pukuro! You tricked me into fighting her so you could escape with Big Mac!”

Everyone looked over at Mukuro, who just shrugged.

“… Maybe?”

“No maybes about it! Do you know what?!” Jack jumped onto the floor and stamped her foot. “I lost! Got no idea what happened after that!”

“Do you know why Mukuro escaped with Makoto?” Kyoko asked.

“Dunno!” Jack responded sweetly, her anger suddenly gone. “But if you saw him alive after that, then I guess she probably took him to the nurse’s office for a blood transfusion, eh? ‘Cause I know about how much blood a cute boy can lose before dying, and he’d lost more than that. Doesn’t surprise me that she’s soft for him, the way she stalked him.”

“I… I didn’t stalk him!” Mukuro sputtered.

“Lady, as a professional stalker,” Jack jumped behind Byakuya again, then clawed at his resisting body. “I can tell you with total sincerity that you stalked the shit out of Big Mac. The only people I ever saw you lay eyes on were him and Junky.”

The room grew quiet again – then Jack started laughing.

“Oh yeah! Where the hell is she? She die, too? Oh wait! Oh wait!” She hiked up her skirt to reveal the scarring Toko had shown them before: JUNKO ERASED OUR MEMORIES x2. “Did she erase your memory, too? Man, you must’ve really pissed her off! I’d ask what you did, but… I guess that’s pointless!”

She roared in laughter again, and everyone once more turned to Mukuro. Byakuya in particular seemed angry, and he tossed Jack off and threw her to the floor.

“Mukuro!” he demanded. She shrank back in fear. “Do you have some relationship with Junko Enoshima?!”

“I… I…” Mukuro gulped. “I don’t know. My memor—”

“Yep, she does, Master Byakuya!” Jack screeched. “They’re besties! Pukuro was always hanging out with her like a dog and its master. She was slavishly devoted, the bedrock of any healthy relationship.”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“I believe you!” Hina said. She jumped between the cowering Mukuro and the rest of the class. “Yeah! First off, Genocide Jack is insane! Second off, even if you think she’s telling the truth, she just told us that Mukuro saved Makoto’s life and did something to piss off Junko! That makes her our friend!”

“You don’t get it, Hina,” Byakuya said, his voice low. “The very fact that Mukuro knew about Genocide Jack when the rest of us didn’t means she wasn’t memory-wiped like everyone else the first time, and the fact that she was dressed as Junko means that she was trying to trick us.”

“You don’t know that!” Hina protested.

“… Jack,” Byakuya said. “How similar do Junko and Mukuro look?”

“You kidding, Master?” Jack laughed. “Pukuro’s homely and covered in gross freckles, but Junky’s very pretty… I mean, if you’re into the big-breasted slut type, but I know your tastes are more refined.” She stood up and pressed out her comparatively modest chest. “If you saw them together, you’d never mistake them for each other.”

“Then that settles it,” Byakuya said. “If Mukuro even bothered trying to trick us by dressing as Junko, then that means we didn’t meet the real Junko after our memories were erased the first time. If that’s the case, and the only people in Hope’s Peak Academy are us, then Mukuro could only have been trying to trick us!”

“Eep!” Hina squeaked. “B—but that doesn’t make sense! Why would she even need to dress as Junko at all? Why not just be Mukuro?”

“Because of Makoto’s memories!” Byakuya declared. “Don’t you remember? He specifically said on that first day that he expected to find Junko Enoshima here, and was confused why she was absent. There needed to be a Junko here, but Mukuro was more obscure, and Makoto might not have known she existed at all.”

“So smart, Master!” Jack clapped her hands together.

“N—no!” Hina tried. “The only reason to do that is if—”

“Yes!” Byakuya thrust a finger in Mukuro’s face. She cowered back. “The only reason to do that is if she was working with Junko all along!”

The accusation was like a splash of cold water to the face. It didn’t just hurt emotionally; it really did feel like Byakuya had just struck her.

Mukuro felt lightheaded. She stumbled backward, and landed on a bench. Everyone, even Sayaka, followed her movements.

“I don’t… I didn’t…” She sobbed. “I don’t know!”

The rest of the world stopped existing. For a long while, there was nothing but Mukuro’s tears and pounding heart.

“Mukuro was thrown into the second round of this game with the rest of us, with no memories,” Sakura offered.

“So she says!” Byakuya snapped.

“Hold on a moment,” Kyoko said. “This doesn’t explain why Mukuro would save Makoto.”

“Maybe she injured him in the first place!” Byakuya said.

“I doubt it,” Kyoko replied. “Jack, did you say that Makoto had been nearly killed with a real spear?”

“Yep! Like something outta a medieval movie or one of Huffy’s dumb animes!”

“But Mukuro saved him?”

Jack puffed out her cheek in thought.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “She grabbed his useless, dying butt and hauled him outta the gym, at least. I don’t see how he could have survived that, unless she saved him.”

“And Sakura tried to stop her?”

“Uh-huh! Until I got in the way.”

Kyoko rubbed her chin for a moment.

“There are several possibilities,” she declared. “But with the information we currently possess, one seems the most likely.”

“What’s that?” someone asked. Mukuro’s emotions were in too much flux to know who.

“It does seem likely that Mukuro was working with Junko for some reason,” Kyoko allowed. “But if she was pretending to be Junko, and pretending to be a member of our class, then she wouldn’t have had access to any spears. Such a weapon that hurt Makoto must have come directly from Junko herself.”

“Why would Junko want to kill Makoto?” someone asked again, though Mukuro couldn’t tell who.

“Maybe Makoto broke a rule. Or… maybe someone else broke a rule, and he tried to help them. That’s the sort of thing he would do. Mukuro tried to save him, and somehow, her identity was revealed. That could lead to a fight with Sakura.”

“That’s pure speculation!” Byakuya snapped.

“Yes, but it’s the most likely possibility,” Kyoko replied. “There’s no way Sakura would have fought Mukuro in an attempt to stop her from saving Makoto, even as the spy, so that leaves one obvious possibility: in the immediate aftermath of learning Mukuro’s identity, no one would trust her, and an argument led to a fight even while Makoto lay dying. In fact… if Junko interpreted saving Makoto as a betrayal, she could have even revealed Mukuro’s identity to us specifically to cause a fight.”

“Hm…” Celeste cooed. “As I recall, Mukuro was near-death when we first met her in the hallways. Could it be that Junko punished her for the betrayal, and threw her into the game with the rest of us, but for real?”

“You don’t know that!” Byakuya demanded. “We only have this information at all because the memory wipe procedure affects split personalities differently from normal people.”

“Normalcy’s overrated!” Jack shrugged.

“That means Junko probably didn’t expect it, or didn’t expect us to talk to Genocide Jack normally,” he kept going. “Even if Mukuro tried to save Makoto against Junko’s wishes, that doesn’t mean that they broke up permanently.”

“That makes sense,” Leon agreed. “Remember when Makoto got executed? Mukuro was the one who told us about how he dropped the book. She totally threw him under the bus! So… maybe Junko told her something like ‘prove you’re still loyal to me by getting everyone to vote for the guy you almost betrayed me for?’”

“No!” Mukuro shook her head, spraying tears everywhere. “That never happened! I would never do something like that! It killed me to do that to Makoto! You saw me, I tried to get out of it!”

Most of the room looked uncertain. Only Hina and Sakura still seemed to trust her. Sayaka in particular had even managed to sit up, and stared at Mukuro with an unreadable emotion.

Through the din and the argument, Celeste raised a hand.

“Pardon…” she said. “But I have an idea that may prove Mukuro’s intentions.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Byakuya scoffed.

“Hear me out. Our possibilities are that Mukuro has been cast aside by Junko, or that she’s still working for her, yes? So, if our dear mastermind wants us to hate Mukuro, she would give her a terrible secret, something like ‘You helped make the killing game.’ But if Junko wants us to trust Mukuro, then she would give her a useless secret we wouldn’t care about, like the ones Kyoko and Taka have.”

Mukuro’s heart skipped a beat. A low hum formed from nothing, and then quickly evolved into a high-pitched shrill that was all she could hear. The room around her and the warm air from the bath grew in size and intensity, and her vision blurred and juddered, until the world vibrated so much that she couldn’t see anything at all. Her senses betrayed her, and left her with just one thought:

I’m telling the truth! she despaired. But my secret is useless…!

“Mukuro!” someone shouted. “Mukuro!”

“Ahhh… ahhh… I…”

A soft, kind hand pressed on her shoulder. The world returned instantly to normal, and Mukuro realized she was on her knees in the center of the room. She looked up and saw the smiling face of Aoi Asahina.

“Mukuro,” she said. “We believe you, but—”

“I’m going to say this one time,” Byakuya appeared over Hina’s shoulder, but conspicuously out of reach of Mukuro’s arm. “Tell us your secret, now.”

Mukuro’s face screwed up. She didn’t know what she looked like right now, but it had to be horrible.

“I…”

She pulled up the crumpled, damaged piece of paper. Her hand was shaking too much to even smooth it out.

“Wait, why am I even having her read this herself?” Byakuya spat. “Someone take it from her.”

No one moved. Most of the class looked at her with fear or trepidation. Hina was still too gentle to take it by force, and Sakura also chose not to. For a moment, Mukuro thought no one would, until—

“Okay!”

Genocide Jack flipped down from the air, landed between Hina and Mukuro, and snatched the paper away. Mukuro’s grip was so weak that she didn’t even resist.

Jack jumped back onto the counter, unfolded the paper, read it, and just burst out laughing. Everyone looked to her, even Sayaka.

“Hahaha, oh God, Pukuro! Really? What are you, a character from a gross manga?”

“Read it, now!” Byakuya demanded.

“Anything for you, Master! Ahem… ‘Mukuro Ikusaba has an incestuous gay crush on her own sister.’”

Eyebrows raised, but no one said a word. Earlier, Mukuro had imagined how she might try to explain or deny this, but now it seemed too trivial to even engage with.

“That’s it,” Byakuya said. “That’s another useless secret.”

“I don’t…” Mukuro whimpered.

“Enough! We should restrain her.”

“I agree with Mr. Togami!” Hifumi said, cowering behind Sakura. “Uh… Sorry, Ms. Ikusaba… Please don’t kill me.”

“No!” Hina demanded. “No, Mukuro’s absolutely, 100% on our side! This is a trick somehow!”

“Yeesh…” Hiro pulled out some tarot cards. “Better do a reading right away…”

“Master’s right,” Jack cackled, then sliced the paper to ribbons with her scissors. “He’s always right!”

“But I… but…” Mukuro’s face grew hot. She couldn’t stop her from shouting. “But I’m the one who stopped Sayaka and Leon that one night! If I wanted the killing game to happen, I’d have just done nothing!”

“That could have just been another piece of misdirection,” Byakuya said, his voice low.

Taka scratched at his chin.

“Hm… These are both valid interpretations… As to whether or not to restrain Mukuro, the only reasonable solution to this dilemma is another vote! All in favor of tying her up?”

Byakuya, Hifumi, Taka, Leon, and Sayaka raised their hands. Jack made sure Byakuya was in favor of it, then looked up to the ceiling and raised her overlong tongue in the place of a hand, undulating it back and forth to make sure Taka would understand it was her vote.

“I will… count that as a vote from Toko,” Taka muttered. “All against?”

Mukuro couldn’t find the strength to lift up her own hand. Hina, Sakura, Kyoko, and, shockingly, Celeste all joined in her defense. The only unspoken-for student was Hiro, whose back was turned as he busily spread a set of cards across the counter.

“That is six to five, assuming Mukuro votes for herself!” Taka bellowed. “The class votes to restrain her!”

Mukuro sniveled, but said nothing. She only looked to the floor, a defeated, pathetic mess.

“You guys suck!” Hina made a fist. “You all… double-suck!”

Despite the confidence Taka spoke with, no one who’d voted against Mukuro actually approached her. In fact, except for the cold Byakuya and the insane Genocide Jack, all of them looked nervous that their bid had actually won.

“Sakura!” Byakuya commanded. “Restrain her… This is a job only you can do.”

Most of the class pulled behind the bronze giant standing in the center of the room. Kyoko and Celeste stood behind Mukuro, but neither moved to defend her. Only Sayaka remained on the bench, sweating and pale but still conscious, and Hina, standing between the Ultimate Soldier and the Ultimate Martial Artist.

“No! Sakura, you can’t!” Hina angrily stretched out her arms to the side.

Sakura frowned. An obvious conflict raged across her scarred and chiseled features.

“It’s okay, Hina,” Mukuro managed. “Let her.”

“But—”

“It’s easier this way. I won’t resist.”

Hina pursed her lips, then started to cry. She ran off to the corner of the room, shooting hateful glares at Byakuya. The others on his side awkwardly kicked at the floor or cowered behind him… save for Jack, who just watched everything with a bizarre, crazy glee.

“Alright, Sakura,” Mukuro said. “Find some rope.”

“No.”

“What?” Byakuya said it before Mukuro could.

Sakura lowered her hands to her waist, then shook her head.

“I have fought Mukuro twice now. Nothing shows one’s true nature more surely than combat. There can be no lies between warriors. So understand that I know her heart, and by knowing her heart, I know that she does not mean us harm.”

“I don’t need your mystical warrior nonsense,” Byakuya snapped. “We voted, so go over there and tie her up!”

Sakura’s hard gray eyes stared into Mukuro’s soft ones. At last, she said:

“No.”

And with that, Sakura walked out of the room.

If the air after some of those secrets had been still, now it was a raging storm of silence. Byakuya looked furious, but most of the others just seemed scared.

Mukuro stayed on her knees for some time. No one said a word. No one approached. At last, she stood. Her legs were still weak from worry and exhaustion, and she wobbled back and forth. Her hands moved in front of her waist, and she fidgeted with her fingers for a little, trying to find something to say.

She left.

-----

Mukuro didn’t join the others for breakfast the next morning. Even without her presence, the scene between those who’d voted against her and those who’d voted for her had to be painfully awkward.

Half of them would probably just run away if they saw me…

It had taken so much for Byakuya to agree to work with the others. He was so smart! Him accepting everyone as tentative allies, or at least servants, was an enormous boon to the group, and it had been made possible only by Makoto’s bravery. And now all of that was in jeopardy thanks to Mukuro Ikusaba.

She smashed her head against the door and pushed her body to press against it. Eventually, she slid down to the floor in a naked heap and pressed her palms to her eyes.

How is it that every time I feel a spark of hope, it gets twisted up and used to create something even more horrible than I could imagine?

She wanted to blame it on Junko, but there was no way her sister could have predicted everything that would happen in the bathhouse. Unless the second spy had engineered the conversation to work against Mukuro, but that night had been a combination of everyone’s efforts.

At least if I’m the second spy, it’s not Kyoko…

She looked at her old whiteboard of spy information, a jumble of letters and numbers legible only to herself.

Life would be so much easier if it was Hifumi or something…

“It’s probably Hifumi or Toko.” squeaked a high-pitched voice at hip-height.

Mukuro jumped out of her skin and tumbled into the whiteboard. When she turned around, Monokuma was behind her on the bed.

“Ahhh!”

Until this point, she’d been almost naked, save for a bra and panties. Horrified, she covered herself as much as she could with her arms, turning away from as much as she could.

“God!” she scowled. “What the hell do you want?!”

“You!” Monokuma said directly. “And why are you even covering yourself?”

“I’m a girl! You can’t just come in on a girl naked without warning her first!”

Monokuma said nothing, but he did gesture up to the camera on the ceiling. Mukuro puffed out her cheeks. She almost kicked him again just on principle, but that would just get her own room destroyed.

“What the hell do you want?” she repeated.

“Jeez, I know human hearing isn’t as good as bear hearing, but this is ridiculous!” Monokuma paced on the bed. “I just said I’m here for you!” He picked up Mukuro’s own e-Handbook, then shoved it in her face. The current time beeped on it: 8:03 AM.

“So what?” she demanded.

“So… it’s time to reveal everyone’s secrets!” he announced, excitedly. “Everyone else is waiting for your lazy, flat butt to get over to the gym!”

The secrets…

Monokuma had to know they already knew everyone’s secrets, but they weren’t supposed to know that he knew… It was almost too absurd to keep track of.

“Can’t you just… put it on the monitors or something?” Mukuro asked. “I’ll still have to hear their secrets that way.”

“I could… But it’s more exciting if everyone is together, so you can all look betrayed and angry! So, get going!”

“What if I refuse?” Mukuro asked. “You can’t really make me. I bet I can fight an entire army of your stupid robots.”

“Hm…” Monokuma tapped a paw on the edge of the bed. “I suppose you could, but that would get the entire dorm area exploded, and then everyone would hate you, now wouldn’t they?”

Mukuro sighed. This was a losing argument. She nodded weakly, then motioned for him to leave.

“Give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I’ll be there.”

-----

With great reluctance, Mukuro entered the gym. Her entire body felt heavy. Everyone’s eyes turned to her. Most of her classmates said nothing or turned away back to the stage, on which Monokuma was already waiting.

The scene was even predictable. The people who’d voted against Mukuro last night were all together, including a back-to-normal Toko. Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko stood closer to the stage, and a still-very upset Byakuya had maneuvered himself to stand between the three of them and Mukuro.

The only new development was Sayaka. She was still white as a ghost, and she still said nothing, but her eyes were almost normal. Her hair was unwashed and disheveled, but she was definitely more aware today than she had been even during the secret meeting. Her clothes were new, and Makoto’s kitten hairclip shone above her right ear, but she wore no makeup of any kind, and her lips were thin and almost the same color as the rest of her face. She stood in front of Hifumi, who cowered to the side, and watched Mukuro enter with a blank look on her face. No one on Earth could have guessed what was happening in her mind right now.

Only two figures looked neutral to Mukuro’s approach: Celeste and Hiro. Celeste hung in the back of the room, playing disinterestedly with the tip of a black parasol, while Hiro just stood in the center of the group, focused purely upon a tarot card in one of his hands.

“Mukuro!” Hina waved. She was the only person who looked happy to see her. “Come over here!”

Mukuro’s eyes moved to Byakuya, who clearly still hated her. She tepidly raised a hand to greet Hina and Sakura, but didn’t want to fight him. Instead, she settled for standing in the back, closer to Celeste.

“Finally!” Monokuma groaned. “You’d think someone with amnesia would want to be at places on time to help form some new memories! But what do I know? I’m just the headmaster.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided to join us,” Celeste said in a low voice, barely paying attention.

“Sorry about that,” Mukuro told her. “I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Celeste said, a little friendlier than Mukuro expected. “Byakuya is being completely unreasonable, as is his wont.”

Monokuma started waving his hands around and running over the stage, shouting something about secrets down to everyone assembled… but Mukuro heard none of it. She turned to Celeste, surprise written all over her face.

“… You think so?”

Celeste shrugged, then twirled her parasol over her shoulder.

“He’s used to getting what he wants and not being second-guessed, at least not seriously.”

“Hey, you two in the back!” shrilled the bear. Mukuro flipped around to face him. “Do you want to let the rest of the class in on your conversation?”

Celeste responded before Mukuro could.

“We were just talking about how to overthrow you and help everyone escape the school unharmed, of course.”

“Ha!” Monokuma pressed his paws to his belly and laughed. “A likely story! Just for that little lie, you’re getting your secret read first!” He pulled a piece of paper from behind his back. “Ahem… Celestia Ludenberg’s real name is Taeko Yasuhiro, she was born in Utsunomiya, not Europe, and she has no noble blood of any kind!”

Celeste looked away. Only Mukuro could see the anguished expression on her face. The others, however, made no reaction at all.

“Ha! Alright then!” Monokuma laughed again. “Next up… Byakuya Togami accidentally crashed the stock market, costing Japan twenty billion dollars and prompting thirteen people to commit suicide!”

Again, no one responded. After a few seconds, Monokuma growled.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Why’s no one yelling yet?”

“Your plan’s failed,” Kyoko said simply. “Though, I think it never had much chance to succeed in the first place.”

Monokuma glared at her, then looked down his list. He read her secret next, then Hiro’s, then Leon’s, then Sayaka’s, then Hifumi’s. Everyone just mulled around, saying and doing nothing.

“Hmph!” Monokuma tapped a foot on the stage. “It’s too bad Mondo and Chihiro were the first two to die. They had much more interesting secrets than most of you. Unlike Toko Fukawa, who is the legendary serial killer Genocide Jack!”

Toko cringed a little and hid behind Byakuya, but no one else said anything.

“… I see how it is.” Monokuma muttered. “I see how it is! You lot told each other your secrets when I couldn’t see you, to make sure no one would have reason to commit any murders. Why, I can bear-ly contain my anger right now!”

“That’s right, ‘headmaster!’” Taka yelled. “You’re powerless to make us hurt each other! Get lost!”

To everyone’s surprise, most of all Taka’s, Monokuma actually obeyed the order. He bounced away into the shadows, and was gone.

An air of painful nervousness took over. Most of the class still looked at her with suspicion, and Sayaka looked at her with that same strange expression. Mukuro just raised a hand, then retreated back to her room before anyone could say a thing.

-----

Mukuro lay on her bed, silently studying her whiteboard of spy information. There was nothing new to add to it, so all she could do was read and reread it, and wonder if Byakuya’s hatred for her was well-founded.

No, it is well-founded… Just, if it’s right or not.

She felt herself drifting off to sleep. She looked over to her e-Handbook and checked the time: 12:20 PM.

Her eyelids grew heavy. A little nap couldn’t hurt…

Ding dong bing bong

Mukuro’s heart skipped a beat. There was no reason for the monitors to turn on in the middle of the day… Not unless there’d been a body discovery…

She turned over onto her side and saw Monokuma sitting on a throne. He seemed almost depressed.

“I guess I promised to reveal everyone’s secrets today,” he sighed. There was no energy left in his voice. “So, really fast… Sakura Ogami’s not really the Ultimate Martial Artist, Kiyotaka Ishimaru once helped another student cheat on a test, Mukuro Ikusaba has an incestuous gay crush on her own sister, and Aoi Asahina’s never kissed a boy. Bye.”

The monitor fell silent. Mukuro laughed, then fell back onto the bed.

At least there’s no reason for anyone to commit murder anymore.

She closed her eyes and smiled. They were safe, at least for the moment.

Ding dong

She flew out of bed. The person at the door had to be either Hina or Sakura. She opened it and found—

“Heya!” Hiro stood there with a heavy plate of green salad. “This is for you.”

Of all the faces Mukuro expected to see, Hiro’s might have been the absolute last.

“Thanks…” she said awkwardly, accepting the food. “Did you do this?”

“Nah, it’s from Sakura. Byakuya, like, banned Hina and her from seeing you. I know Sakura really wants to talk to you, ‘warrior stuff’ or something.”

“I see… That makes sense.”

“But don’t worry!” He sniffed his finger, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I know you’re okay.”

“How’s that?”

“Because last night, I did a reading in the bathhouse, remember?” Mukuro blinked. She’d actually forgotten all about that. Hiro didn’t seem to notice, though. “See, good things happen in fives, right? Whenever you see the number five, that’s a good sign. That’s why I plucked out two of the croutons in that salad, to make five.”

Mukuro looked down, and indeed found five croutons in her salad.

“I don’t follow.” she said.

“The people who voted for you number five, right?” He smiled. “You, Kyoko, Sakura, Hina, and Celeste. But the people who voted against you number six. Major sign that you’re actually cool.”

“Is that why you stayed out of the vote?”

“Aw, no, I’d have voted against you. Glad I didn’t, though! That would’ve pushed Byakuya’s group to seven, and seven’s a lucky number, so you’d have been evil.” He smashed a fist into his open palm. “Besides, my tarot reading proved you can’t be the next killer, because I learned a new fact about them!”

“… did you?” Mukuro asked, not bothering to inject fake enthusiasm into her voice.

“Yeah! I’ll even tell it to you for free! Get this: the next killer… will use a surprise attack!”

“…”

“…”

“Hiro,” Mukuro said. “How does that make me innocent?”

“Because you’re the Ultimate Soldier!” he laughed. “You don’t need to use surprise attacks because you can just murder anyone with your bare hands! You could kill us all without even trying!”

Mukuro opened her mouth to protest, then realized both that she would only be arguing against herself, and that Hiro was technically correct.

“If you see the others,” she said. “Please tell them I’ll just stay in my room until… Well, indefinitely. I promise not to come out. Tell Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko that I’m okay.”

“Got it!” He gave her a thumbs up, then disappeared down the hallway.

Mukuro stuck her head out for a moment to watch him leave. The hallway stretched on in front of her, bidding her forward.

She slammed the door shut, then placed the salad on her desk. Staying in here would be boring, but it was definitely the right call.

-----

A cold fog settled in the school. The floor was an invisible memory underneath the gray haze. The lights were dead, and Mukuro wandered through the hallways, freezing and shaking and naked. The blue-black sky taunted her, forever out of reach, and provided the barest trace of illumination by way of a sliver of silver moon.

Mukuro gripped a bare hand to her chest and shivered. There was no heartbeat. She tried to look down, but her eyes had a will of their own, and she pressed on through the hallway.

To her right, a wall of doors, each leading to a classroom. She looked into one at random, and saw the backs of a dozen Mukuros at their desks, all dressed in prim black skirts and white blouses. None noticed her; their eyes were only for the teacher: Monokuma. He stood at the blackboard, which molded into the dark sky, and pressed a paw to a crude chalk drawing of a girl with thick pigtails. The drawing was white, yet her hair was still yellow, and her eyes still blue, and all of the Mukuros, including the one in the hallway, were entranced. Monokuma droned on and on about her in his screeching voice, but as if in another language, and she understood nothing.

Then Mukuro turned away back to the hallway, but bumped her waist against something hard and wooden. This time her eyes obeyed her, and when she looked down, she found herself in one of the desks. She wore a scandalously short red skirt, a black cardigan, and long black boots. Her fingernails were long and red and fake, and in their reflections she saw her own luxurious blonde pigtails. Most of all, there was no tattoo on her right hand.

“Junko.” said a chorus of voices.

Around her, the other Mukuros twisted in their seats to face her. They had no eyes, noses, or mouths, but the creases on their faces twisted in anger. Holes formed where their lips would have been, and each pushed a hand into herself. When the hands emerged again, they held black combat knives dripping with the blood of innocent people. They pointed the knives at her, an army of faceless Mukuros.

“Junko,” they repeated. They were neither angry nor hateful; the only emotion in their voices was despair. Pink blood rained down from their blades and into the fog, gallons of it, and yet the knives never seemed any cleaner.

Junko tried to speak, but nothing came out. She tried to take a breath, but the sharp, crisp air of the foggy school didn’t enter her lungs. Confused and panicking, she looked down again, and found no body inside the clothes. There was only a cloud of vaporous fog in the shape of a girl, and it dispersed as a thousand knives held by a thousand Mukuros sliced into it.

Mukuro sat up, covered in a cold sweat. She gasped for air several times, and looked around her normal boring dorm room. Sober reality forced itself on her, and she clawed for her e-Handbook, hoping that it was the next day.

8:10 PM.

Irate, Mukuro threw the machine against the wall. A bit of pink wallpaper chipped away, and the handbook clattered to the floor, but nothing else happened.

Her stomach growled. All she’d had to eat all day was Hiro’s light salad. She found herself actually wishing for those extra croutons. If only someone had had the consideration to send her dinner, too.

I promised to stay in here.

She got up, punched the air, and paced. She was so bored.

She dropped down and started some push-ups, for no other reason than to have some kind of experience besides laying on the bed.

10… 20… 30…

She’d never actually done push-ups since losing her memory. When she got to 50, she realized her arms weren’t tired at all.

Mukuro weaved her left arm behind her back, then kept going.

60… 70… 80…

Her right arm was still just fine. She increased the pace of the push-ups.

100… 120… 140…

She was pushing as hard and as fast as she could now. Maybe Sakura could match this speed, but surely no one else.

180… 200… 250…

In the space of four minutes, Mukuro finished three-hundred pushups, most of them one-handed. A single bead of sweat rolled down her nose and dripped onto the floor.

She tested her right arm. It still felt just fine, but she switched to her left one anyway. 500 one-handed pushups later, she felt a little sore.

She stared longingly at the door.

I promised to stay in here! And I’m on thin ice as it is.

Her stomach roared at her to go out and find something to eat.

She kicked the door, chipping through a piece of it, and forced herself back onto the bed and to sleep.

-----

Ding dong bing bong

“Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 AM, and nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!”

Mukuro rolled out of bed. She still wore the unwashed clothes she’d greeted Hiro in yesterday. The same old familiar walls greeted her on every side, pressing in on her, denying her anything to see or do.

This room is so small…

Mukuro clambered to her feet. Her stomach felt like it was eating itself. She poked her belly a few times, taunting it.

Want food, do you? she thought, a little despondently. Well, maybe you shouldn’t have been working for an evil bitch like Junko.

“Ha! You didn’t get your mind wiped, Stomach.”

Mukuro sneered at her own body, then realized how ridiculous that was. She groaned, and looked over to the bathroom door.

Just to do something, she tossed her dirty clothes onto her desk and entered the shower. Forty minutes passed underneath the hot water. She tapped her knuckles against the glass door, inventing a random melody as she went. It wasn’t any good, but that was okay.

At last, she grew bored of this. She turned the faucet, dried herself off, pulled on a new set of clothing, and checked the clock.

7:49 AM.

“Aaaaaarghhhh!”

She looked back over to the whiteboard with her list of potential spies.

Maybe I could do some more work with it today…

But there wasn’t enough new information to work with, and she knew it.

Ding dong bing bong

Mukuro groaned. The only thing she didn’t want right now was more of Monokuma’s stupid announcements.

He must’ve thought of a new motive or found new secrets to announce, or something…

She crossed her arms and looked up at the monitor.

“A body has been discovered!” Monokuma’s excited voice screeched from all directions.

The world went black for a second. When Mukuro opened her eyes again, she was on her back on the floor.

This wasn’t possible. This simply couldn’t be true. After all they’d done, after all they’d learned, no one could possible hurt anyone else…

Right?

“After a certain amount of time, which you may use however you wish, a trial will begin!”

“No…” Mukuro covered her mouth.

“Everyone, please assemble in the warehouse!”

Mukuro jumped up, threw open her door, and jumped outside. No one was in the immediate vicinity. She took off as fast as she could. When she reached the bend that would lead her to the warehouse, she looked over at the cafeteria. Byakuya, Kyoko, and Leon were running out into the hallway. Behind them, a distraught, pale Sayaka leaned against the wall, loping in slow motion to catch up.

That leaves Hina, Hiro, Sakura, Toko, Taka, Hifumi, and Celeste…

Mukuro turned and made for the warehouse. The last of those options, the black-haired gothic girl, stood just outside in the hallway, looking in with uncharacteristic surprise and fear.

No, no, no…

Mukuro slid to a halt, grabbed the doorframe, and thrust herself inside, slamming into Taka’s back. He grunted and fell to the floor right behind Hina, whose eyes were invisible behind a waterfall of tears, and whose mouth was covered by both of her hands. She fell to her knees and screamed, and her awful, inhuman wail echoed throughout the school.

Before them lay a nearly destroyed warehouse; all of its contents were thrown to the floor, hanging off the racks, or simply smashed to pieces. Great white gashes tore through several of the shelves. And in the center of it all was the cold, dead body of Sakura Ogami, who lay on her back in a thick puddle of pink blood. A long wooden spear pierced her just beneath the heart.

Chapter Text

The world fell away from Mukuro, plunging her into a void in which nothing existed except the impossibility of Sakura’s corpse, Hina’s pitiable sobbing, and four words echoing in the darkness:

This can’t be real.

Sakura, the strongest and noblest person in the world, was dead. She was so honorable and wise and kind that she couldn’t harm a soul, even as a traitor… and she was dead. Cold gray eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, and pink blood spilled from where the spear pierced her just beneath the heart. Dull black-purple bruises the size of fingers dotted her bare arms and legs.

Her chest raised up and down, not because she breathed, but because Hina pathetically grabbed her by the shoulders and shook, screaming something Mukuro’s deadened nerves couldn’t hear.

It didn’t make sense.

After everything they’d learned about Junko and her killing game, after revealing their secrets, after Makoto’s sacrifice… It just wasn’t possible for anyone to ever kill again.

Junko must have killed her.

Mukuro’s fists tightened. Yes, that was it. That had to be it.

She felt a rush of air behind her, and turned to find Celeste and the others from the cafeteria: Kyoko, Byakuya, Leon, and a late-joining Sayaka. Taka was still on the floor from when she’d bumped into him, but Hiro stepped over some of the strewn supplies and gave him a hand.

Hiro?

Mukuro hadn’t noticed before, but the eldest member of the class had been in the room the entire time, just to the side. In all the horror of the scene, she’d simply missed his presence.

“Sakura!” Hina wept, snapping the absent Mukuro back to reality. “Get up! Get up!”

Hina dug her nails into Sakura’s flesh, probably without thinking, and shook her again and again. She grabbed at the spear, smearing Sakura’s drying blood across her palms, and tried to pull it out, but to no avail. Everyone present watched in silence, either sympathetically or in shock, except for Kyoko, who navigated her way around the chaos of the warehouse’s discarded and damaged contents and toward the body.

The warehouse!

Mukuro took another look around it. The entire massive room was all but demolished. Shelves collapsed in on themselves, clothes of every type and color were scattered about and torn to shreds, white gashes tore through the walls. She saw a wooden ladder split in half, a chest of drawers shattered into a thousand pieces, cleaning supplies exploded and spilled halfway across the floor, and destroyed pieces of sharp metal and plastic whose origin would never be known. Even some of the metal plates that formed the walls were bent and warped. In particular, the shelf next to Sakura was halfway-obliterated. It lay on its side, and a dozen unopened bottles of protein powder rolled across the floor. Some were even soaking in the pool of Sakura’s blood.

This room had seen a battle between titans.

And then—

“Heehee!”

A shadow on the ceiling stirred. Before anyone could react, Monokuma dropped in from above, landing right between Mukuro and the others.

“Youuuuuuuuu know what time it is!” he screeched.

“No!” Hiro pulled his hand out of Taka’s, sending the latter boy careening back to the floor, and grabbed at his head. “Not again!”

“Oh, yes! Again, for sure!” Monokuma pressed his paws to his belly and cackled. “And if we’re lucky, again and again and again after that!”

“You did this!” Mukuro shouted wrathfully, her vision growing red. She wasn’t even sure when she’d pulled herself into a battle stance. “You killed Sakura!”

“Bzzzzzt! Wrong!” Monokuma jumped onto a nearby destroyed shelf and shook his head. “You really need to get it through your heads: I will never directly kill anyone… physically, at least. Psychologically is another story.”

“Then it was another accident! Another fake-murder you’re using to—”

“Bzzzzzt! Wrong again! If I was keeping a tally of how many times people are wrong in this school, you’d definitely be in first place… Or is it last place? Hmm…” He tapped a paw against his chin, then looked to the ceiling. “Anyway… because there was some confusion last time thanks to the way Makoto murdered Chihiro, I suppose it might be best to clear up this whole shebang right now, just so none of you waste your time.”

“Clear what up now?” Byakuya demanded.

Mukuro noticed that Leon, Hiro, Celeste, and the finally-upright Taka all stood behind him, happy to let him take the lead. Sayaka was also there, but her eyes were trained straight on Mukuro. She seemed almost to ignore the rest of the scene in front of her.

“Yes, you kids sure need a lot of handholding. Makes me wonder why I got into this profession in the first place…” Monokuma pretended to think it over for a few seconds, then raised his paws into the air. “Alright! To ensure a fair and reasonable trial, I will guarantee you all that the murder of Sakura Ogami was not an accident. Someone in this school, other than yours truly, killed the Ultimate Martial Artist on purpose.”

“You’re lying!” Mukuro insisted. Before she could continue, though—

“Well, maybe you’ll find this easier to believe,” Monokuma laughed. “If you don’t identify the killer in the next trial, then all of you are un-bear-lievably dead! … except the killer, that is.”

He dipped a hand behind his back, then pulled out nine black files. Mukuro’s heart sank. It really was happening again.

Another trial…

Monokuma shoved one of the files into her hands, then pranced about, doing the same for everyone else. Hina didn’t even look up, and the file fell limply out of her grasp.

“Well then…” their headmaster finished. “I suggest you use this time to investigate the murder.”

He bounced up into a corner of the ceiling, then disappeared.

Mukuro slipped her Monokuma File into her jacket, then jumped over an errant large shard of what had been a shelf. She landed a foot away from Sakura and the still-distraught Hina, whose knees and legs were pink from kneeling in the pool of blood.

“Hina…” Mukuro started. She wanted to say something, but it was impossible. Nothing could matter now, not as long as their friend was dead.

She reached a hand over to grip Hina’s shoulder, only to be met by resistance. Her friend’s body tensed and pulled back, and she scooted away. A second later, she was on her feet, staring Mukuro down.

Wet tears streamed down her face, but her eyes were on fire. Her lips curled down, and though she didn’t quite look hateful, sorrow was only secondary. A hundred emotions roiled across her expression, but the chief among them were fear and doubt.

“Hina—”

Hina tried to say something, lost her voice, and gulped down. She closed her eyes for a moment, then stared Mukuro down again.

“Did you do this?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“What?” Mukuro covered her mouth. “Of course not! I would never!”

But this didn’t quell her friend’s obvious suspicions. Hina breathed in and out heavily, then balled her fists.

“I want to believe you…” she said. She nodded a few times. “I do… but…”

She trailed off. In the back of the room, Leon finished her thought.

“But Sakura died in a fucking fight!” he shouted.

Those words were a slap across the face. Mukuro turned to him, then back to Hina, then to Sakura, then to the spear. In the back of her mind, she realized again just how overturned the entire room was. An entire army could not have more thoroughly destroyed this place.

Mukuro’s heart exploded out of her chest.

The Ultimate Affluent Progeny… Baseball Star… Swimming Pro… Clairvoyant… Gambler… Moral Compass… Pop Sensation… Writing Prodigy… Fanfic Creator… and Kyoko’s unknown talent…

None of them would stand a chance in hell against Sakura in a fight. In fact, she could probably have easily handled every single one of them at the same time, one-handed. And even if Monokuma had wanted to lie, the mysterious Junko Enoshima was still merely the Ultimate Fashionista.

Reality came crashing down on Mukuro: the Ultimate Martial Artist had died in a fistfight, and there was only one person in the school who could possibly have done it.

“I… I didn’t!” she sputtered, stupidly.

She turned back to the others. Leon and Taka watched her with undisguised fear; both had already decided she was guilty. Hiro wavered in obvious uncertainty. Celeste tapped a finger across one of her pigtails, face scrunched up in concentration. Byakuya and Kyoko regarded her more coolly, but neither looked friendly.

Sayaka hovered in the background, observing all of this in silence. She swayed back and forth slightly, apparently unable to keep herself standing straight. She was more kempt than before; she’d definitely showered and cleaned herself up, and her skin was back to a pale pink color instead of pure white. And all that meant now was that her face could more properly express certainty and hate. Her eyes trained on Mukuro and screamed “You did this.”

Mukuro held out her hands and stepped toward the others. Half of them pulled back in fear.

“No! It wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t!”

“Well, that’s good,” Byakuya snapped. “You swear. I suppose we can all just dismiss you as a suspect now.”

Mukuro flipped around to Hina, who sucked in her lips, watched her carefully, and said nothing.

“Hina, I swear, I would never hurt Sakura! Not ever!”

“That is a dubious claim!” Taka tapped a foot on the floor. It was the only sound that pierced the silence of everyone’s near-panic. “We were all present for the incident in the gym with the spear… the other spear, I mean.”

“No! I didn’t!” Mukuro raised her hands and pressed them against her temples. “I would never hurt anyone!”

She regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. It was a triple-lie: everyone had seen her almost kill Sakura and Hiro by accident, everyone knew she’d spent years as a mercenary in the Middle-East, and she was the Ultimate Despair. Mercifully, the others only knew about the first two of those, but it was still more than enough.

Byakuya pulled up the Monokuma File he’d been given. He scanned it for a few seconds, then waved it at her.

“Mukuro!” he demanded. “What’s your alibi for last night, between 9 and 10 PM?!”

The room turned into a dark haze. Mukuro sniffed and wiped her eyes with one of her sleeves.

“I was… in my room, alone. I might’ve been asleep.”

“Great.” Byakuya turned around to face the group. “Taka! Leon! You two are in charge of watching the crime scene. Make sure no one except me touches anything.”

“Understood!” Taka saluted.

“Why me?” Leon groaned.

“Because you’re too stupid to be useful for anything else.” Byakuya snapped. “Surely you can manage to stand in one spot and just look at people as they walk by, right?”

Leon grunted, then murmured something like an agreement. A second later, he and Taka took flanking positions around the doorway. Finally, Byakuya looked back to Mukuro.

“Get out of here.” he said.

“But—”

“Mukuro,” came a softer voice. The Ultimate Soldier turned around to find Kyoko. The lavender-haired girl didn’t move to face her, and her eyes trained only on the lifeless body. Still, her voice was kinder than everyone else’s. “It would be inappropriate for you to be here right now. You can examine the body after I finish.”

Mukuro sniffed. Her cheeks were covered in the moist remnants of tears, but she nodded slowly.

“Okay…” she said, hoarsely.

She made for the door, hurt at how the others all scrambled to get out of her way. Only the quiet, gently swaying form of Sayaka stayed where it was. As she stepped out of the door, Mukuro looked back at the still corpse, and then at Hina.

The suspicion on her friend’s face was like a knife to the heart.

-----

Mukuro sat by her lonesome in the far corner of the cafeteria. No one else was present. She didn’t eat, except to chew on the back of her own thumb. She didn’t see, except to read the Monokuma File in her hands again and again.

The victim was Sakura Ogami, the Ultimate Martial Artist. The time of death was about 9:15 PM. The body was found in the warehouse on the first floor of the dorms. Her head was struck by a blunt object, while her chest was pierced by a wooden spear just beneath the heart.

Thoughts of Hina’s betrayed face and the others’ fears danced through Mukuro’s mind. She tried to make herself focus, but all she could see was her friend’s body.

Focus!

The file said that Sakura’s head was struck by a blunt object. That had to be important, right? Mukuro hadn’t gotten a good look at the body, but she hadn’t noticed anything like that when she was there. The only option was to return later and check it out more closely.

Check out Sakura’s body…

She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry and tight.

Makoto died for us, and now Sakura…

She closed her eyes and sniffled again. This was the worst death yet. Makoto’s death was a product of Monokuma’s cruelty and insane rules. If their headmaster was to be believed, Sakura’s death was the result of betrayal from within.

And someone wanted Mukuro to take the fall.

She scowled. Her fingers tightened on the file, and its glass screen started to crack.

I’ve read everything in the file, and I know what’s important, she thought. But is there any other way to draw information from it?

She thought on this for a few seconds. Yes, there was – what did it leave out? Anything Monokuma omitted had to be a clue by itself.

Three things stood out to her: the file made no mention of the battle in the warehouse, the object used to hit Sakura’s head, and which weapon, the mystery object or the spear, actually killed her.

Truth Bullet added: MONOKUMA FILE #2

At length, Mukuro let go of the file. It clattered onto the table. Distantly, she felt a pang of hunger, but there was no way she could eat now.

She ran her hands through her hair. It hurt that the others suspected her, but she couldn’t rightly blame them. There was just one option: prove to everyone, especially Hina, that she was innocent.

Of this particular crime, a voice echoed in her mind. She pulled into herself, wincing. Guilty of a thousand other murders, yet you’re on trial for the one you happened not to commit…

Mukuro grabbed at her temples again, closed her eyes, and shook her head back and forth.

“No, no, no…” she whispered.

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything?”

Mukuro flashed surprise, then fear. A familiar pale girl with black pigtails stood over her, watching her with detached amusement.

“Celeste…” she sputtered.

“My, my, you’ve almost mastered my name!” she cooed. “I’ve been told it’s quite difficult for Japanese people to pronounce. Do you think you can manage the whole thing?”

“What do you want, Celeste?” Mukuro asked. Her voice trailed off into a low, despondent groan. It wasn’t meant as an insult against her classmate; she’d have been just as overwhelmed to talk to anyone else, save maybe Hina or Kyoko.

“Yes, I suppose I’ll get straight to the point.”

She leaned over the table, bearing down on Mukuro with an overwhelming intensity. The Ultimate Soldier shrank back under the smaller, weaker girl’s gaze, and quivered in a strange fear. The gothic girl opened her mouth and breathed just four words:

“Did you do it?”

Mukuro stood up suddenly, upset and angry. Without thinking, she punched the table. Celeste didn’t move a muscle.

“No!” Mukuro roared. “Goddammit, no! I would never kill anyone here. Sakura was my friend, she was the only person who understood me, at least a little bit, and even more than that, killing anyone at all would be a betrayal of what Makoto died for. I swear that I’ve never hurt anyone since this killing game started, and I hate to death whoever the treacherous fucker is who did!”

It had all just poured out of her lips. Mukuro stood there, breathing heavily in and out. Her face was very red, and her skin was hot. It wasn’t just the indignity of everyone suspecting her – someone had murdered her best friend and framed her for it, and—

“I believe you.” Celeste said quietly.

Mukuro snapped out of her self-inflicted reverie. For a few seconds, she watched the Ultimate Gambler from across the table, neither of them speaking.

“You… do?” she asked. Her voice squeaked by accident.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Celeste drew back, then tapped a finger against her own chin.

“Do you remember when we played that card game a few days ago?” she asked. “I believe I boasted to you that I can learn everything of a person by watching their tells, their signs, and how they gamble?”

“Yeah…”

“I knew you were a killer as soon as you played with me,” Celeste smiled, but didn’t quite look Mukuro in the eyes. “I knew even before we learned that you’re the Ultimate Soldier. I knew that you could kill, that you could be made to kill, and that you’d killed in the past. Even if you didn’t know it back then, I knew.”

Mukuro bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t deny anything. In fact, the other girl had no idea how much she was understating all of this.

“But what I also know is that you played the best possible game anyone could have played against me.”

“I lost!”

“That’s of no consequence. I’m the Ultimate Gambler; no one on Earth is going to beat me. And I know that you haven’t snapped… yet.”

A low, grumbling laugh rose up in Mukuro’s throat. She looked away, hugging herself for comfort.

“That’s not very… evidence-y.”

Celeste rolled her eyes, then laughed in a low voice.

“Well, if you prefer,” she continued. “I also know that killing Sakura would be a stupid move for you. If you’d really wanted to kill someone, you’d target a person who doesn’t trust you, rather than remove one of your unwitting allies in the courtroom.”

“No one trusted me except Sakura and Hina,” Mukuro muttered. She didn’t even know why she was arguing against this. “Maybe no one else would let me get near them.”

“Yes, I’m sure it would be very difficult for the Ultimate Solder to sneak up on and snap the neck of Yasuhiro, Hifumi, Leon… or myself.”

Mukuro sucked in her lips. She thought back to that day they’d played the card game. All of her intuition had screamed at her not to involve herself with Celeste. Everything that was Mukuro Ikusaba had told her that this girl was bad news.

But… Celeste had never actually lied to or betrayed her, and she was shrewd enough to glean that Mukuro wasn’t the killer. Instinct said not to believe this girl, but reason and evidence demanded that she be given a chance.

“What’s your point in all of this?” Mukuro demanded. “Why come to me about this?”

“Because you’re endangering all of us.” Celeste’s eyes grew wide again, and an eerie shadow passed over her face. “If you want to crawl into some corner and die on your own, then no one will stop you. But being suspicious in this game means the others are more likely to pick you as the killer and get themselves, and more importantly, me, killed. It’s your responsibility to make everyone believe you’re trustworthy, and if they don’t, then it’s your own fault.”

Mukuro opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Celeste’s words were irrefutable.

“And so,” the Ultimate Gambler finished. “Since you’ve endangered me, I’m going to make sure you fulfill your responsibility.”

Mukuro scrunched up her brow. She hadn’t expected that.

“What?” she asked, rather stupidly.

“You and me,” Celeste repeated. “We’re going to figure out who killed Sakura.”

“Wait – why me?”

The gothic girl raised a hand to her lips, then gave a practiced noblewoman’s laugh.

“Because you and I are the only people I know for sure didn’t do it. Because my first choices, Kyoko and Byakuya, are already working together. Because you don’t have a choice except to help me, since no one else will tolerate your presence for long. Because it’s your job to help find the killer, and we already have enough lazy idiots doing nothing useful with Hiro, Taka, Leon, Hifumi, Aoi, and a literal serial killer. And most importantly, because I refuse to meet my end at the hands of a ridiculous contraption in the shape of a stuffed toy bear. I demand something more fitting of my bloodline – at the very least, I want a guillotine.”

It was almost too much to take in at once. For once, someone actually believed in Mukuro’s innocence – and it was this smiling, overbearing, slightly crazy person.

But the truth was this: Celeste could have made any demand right then, and Mukuro would have rushed to obey, if only to have one ally at her side.

Is this how Hifumi feels every day?

“Okay,” Mukuro whispered. “Okay!” She pumped her fists in imitation of Hina. A warm relief of blood rushed to her face. “Let’s work together.”

“Great,” Celeste agreed. “So, where do we start?”

“… what?”

“You worked with Kyoko on the first murder, didn’t you? You have more experience with this than I do.”

Mukuro’s hands fell to her hips. The initial rush of excitement dissipated, and she found herself sighing.

“Well… I guess we should start with how we found the body, right? You were one of the people who found it, right? What happened, exactly?”

“Oh,” Celeste looked up to the ceiling, lost in thought. “There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid. I was walking to the cafeteria for breakfast when I saw Aoi and Taka emerge. They went right for the warehouse. Yasuhiro was already going in that direction, I think by chance? He was definitely the one who actually opened the door. I remember he screamed, and then he and Taka rushed inside. The announcement played, and Aoi joined them after that, and I ran as fast as I could to catch up. You and the others were actually only a few seconds behind me.”

“So, Hiro and Taka were the ones who actually found the body…” Mukuro scratched at her chin. “That might be important. And you said Taka and Hina were together, coming from the cafeteria, and not the dorms?”

“That’s right. I never got the chance to ask why… Though, perhaps they were simply curious of Sakura’s whereabouts.”

Mukuro nodded slowly.

“Okay… Well, what’s most important is Sakura’s body—”

“Byakuya won’t let you near it right now,” Celeste warned.

Mukuro grunted. She waited a few seconds for her partner to offer any advice, but none came.

This was easier when Kyoko made all of the decisions.

“… Alright,” Mukuro agreed. “If I can’t check out the body yet, we can at least collect alibis from everyone else. I think Taka is in the warehouse still, right? Let’s start with him, we can talk to him outside of the door.”

Celeste shrugged, then fell in step behind Mukuro, apparently happy to follow rather than lead. The two left the cafeteria and entered the bright lights of the dorm hallways. Mukuro turned for the warehouse—

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong.

She turned back to Celeste, who blinked at her innocently. Confused, she looked around a few times, until she spotted a shadow hiding inside of the bathhouse doorway. It was the silhouette of a girl with long blue hair…

Sayaka stood there, within the dark of bathhouse. Like in the warehouse, she wobbled back and forth, apparently barely able to stand. A pair of pinprick blue eyes followed the pair’s movements, but the idol herself made no other movements.

“What’s she doing?” Mukuro asked.

“Oh, that,” Celeste said, clearly annoyed. “She’s been acting that way since Sakura refused to tie you up. She just stands of sits by herself, looking at nothing or watching from afar. It’s a little… off-putting, to be entirely honest.”

If something creeps out even Celeste…

“Should we go talk to her?”

“I doubt you’ll get anything useful out of her. She’s mumbled a few words to Aoi, I believe, but that’s it. Unless you think she killed Sakura, of course.”

Mukuro pulled in her lips.

Sayaka did try to kill Leon. She is a potential killer, like it or not…

But there was just no way. There was no way a girl like that could challenge the might Sakura in a fight.

Aside from that, Mukuro genuinely did want to go talk to her. Sayaka was the one closest to Makoto, after all… but in these circumstances, with Monokuma’s vague time limit looming over them…

“It’ll have to wait,” she said. “I’ll hash things out with her later. Let’s go to the warehouse.”

A few seconds later, they were there. The door was wide open, and Mukuro peeked inside. She squirmed when she saw Kyoko kneeling over the body, running her gloved hands over Sakura’s locks of white hair and checking for something unknown. Beyond her, Byakuya paced across the destroyed shelves, searching for… something.

Suddenly, a flash of white rushed across the doorway. Taka stood there, crossing his arms and looking upset.

“Mukuro!” he announced. “You are not allowed in this place. We will discuss the details of your crime during the trial.”

“I didn’t—never mind,” Mukuro hung her head and sighed. “I’m not here about the body. I came here to talk to you, Taka.”

“Oh?” Taka looked her over quizzically. “You should know that I immune to both bribery and begging.”

“No, I…” She raised a hand to her face, then massaged her eyes. “Look, Taka… I wanted to ask what happened just before you found the body.”

“Oh! Very well.” Taka made a fist, then nodded. “Byakuya, Kyoko, Leon, and I were in the cafeteria. We were the first to arrive for breakfast, and were discussing what to do with you. Aoi and Sayaka arrived then. Aoi began to complain that we were treating you unfairly, then realized Sakura was not present. She mentioned not having seen her since last night, so she and I decided to check for her in the warehouse.”

“Why there?”

“Because Sakura is very specific with when she goes for her protein powder, of course. It was just time for her to arrive. We met Hiro on the way. The three of us opened the door and looked inside, and the announcement played. From there, I believe you know the rest.”

“I see…” Mukuro sighed. Taka’s story fit with what Celeste had said, but it didn’t help much on its own. “Uh… This is a little awkward to ask, but last night, what were you doing at 9:15 PM?”

“Asking me for an alibi?” Taka grinned, then laughed. “You should ask Celeste! The two of us were together, were we not?”

“Oh, yes,” Celeste rolled her eyes. “How could I have forgotten…”

“You forget things frequently, Celeste,” Taka scowled at her. “Such as basic manners! Mukuro! Last night, I went to place my dirty clothes into a laundry machine at 9 PM, so that it would be done in the morning, only to be confronted by the most heinous and unbelievable reality imaginable!”

Mukuro raised an eyebrow.

“Which was… what?”

Taka thrust a finger into Celeste’s unimpressed face.

“Someone was using every single machine at the same time, in complete disregard for the inconvenience this might prove for the rest of the class! Seven machines at once, all of them loaded with frilly black dresses. Of course, it was my duty to immediately remind Celeste that those machines are for everyone, so I marched over to her at once.”

“To her room?”

“Wh—no!” Taka shook his head. “To the bathhouse.”

“She was in the bathhouse?”

“Mukuro,” Celeste finally chimed in. “I doubt this is important, but I’ve been taking late night baths there, at about 9 PM-on.”

“Ah!” Taka looked panicky for a moment. “I didn’t actually enter the baths, just to be clear. Not when I knew there was a naked girl inside… But I stood outside of the door and made her promise not to do this again.”

“It’s true,” Celeste rolled her eyes again. “It’s all true…”

“Regardless, I spoke with Celeste for, say, twenty minutes?” Taka rubbed his chin. “That sounds about right. So, I’d say this was 9:15-9:35. Celeste and I thus both have alibis… Not that either of us need one, given how neither of us could kill Sakura in a fight.”

Mukuro cringed at that last part, but managed to give a weak nod.

“I see… Thank you very much, Taka.”

“Of course!” He smiled, then made another fist. “Please enjoy your last few hours with Celeste.”

After that, he returned to his guard duty, and disappeared.

Truth Bullet added: TAKA’S ACCOUNT

Mukuro bit her lip again. Eliminating two people as suspects was a minor relief, but Taka’s story had raised another question.

“Celeste,” she asked. “Why were you using all of the washing machines at the same time?”

“Oh, that,” Celeste sighed. “Would you believe that yesterday, the wooden shelf at the top of my closet collapsed? Hope’s Peak has quite shabby craftsmanship, I think.”

“It… collapsed?”

“Yes. I suppose the wood was just very old? I can’t pretend to know much about these things, but when it broke apart, it got sawdust everywhere. All of my dresses and lace were covered in it. I don’t know when the wood fell apart, exactly, but when I became aware of it, I immediately called Hifumi and had him take my things to the laundry room for me.”

“When was this?”

“Oh… 8:45, I should say? Just before my bath.” Celeste traced a finger across the spiral of one of her ponytails. “After I got out of the water, at around 9:50 PM, I went to tell Hifumi to gather up my dresses from the machines and bring them to my room, but he wouldn’t answer his door! I had to haul all of them back myself. Completely unbelievable.”

Mukuro wasn’t really listening.

The shelf just ‘collapsed?’

That felt wrong. The school was always completely pristine, except when someone damaged it. Mukuro thought back to the time in the changing room when Monokuma exploded. It barely took a day before the entire room had been repaired.

“Can you show me your closet, please?” she asked.

Celeste cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think it’s important?”

“I’m not sure… It’s just sort of an instinct, I suppose.”

“Hmph. Well, I have no reason to refuse,” she chirped. “Follow me!”

Celeste led the way to the dorms. When they arrived at the door marked with a little plaque of her face, she reached into a fold of her dress and extracted a key with a dainty little flourish. She slid it into the lock, twisted, and pushed open the door. The two entered, and Mukuro nudged it closed behind her without looking back.

Celeste’s room was a perfect image of its owner. In fact, if Mukuro had given a single thought to what might be inside, this was exactly what she would have guessed: the pink sheets of a girl’s bed had been replaced by black, an elegant Victorian-era gramophone rested on a shelf, three dark parasols rested in a corner, decorative plastic roses were installed here and there and everywhere, and the standard light fixture hanging from the ceiling in every dorm had somehow been replaced by a fanciful chandelier. And despite everything, Mukuro smiled when she saw the black-and-white and black-and-red tea sets filched from the warehouse. The only giveaway that this was the room of a teenage girl and not a vampire was the child-sized plushie of a black cat at the foot of the bed. Even someone who’d never met Celeste before in their life would have known everything about her from this one image.

“Careful,” the gothic girl warned. “No matter your jealousy, I fear I won’t part with anything you see here.”

Mukuro thought it most polite to feign dismay.

“Maybe you can… help me find the second-best stuff in the warehouse, later…”

This response seemed to please Celeste, who strut over to the closed closet and threw it open with an elegant, yet very exaggerated, gesture of her hand.

Inside were seven white stands. Six of them were covered by fanciful black dresses layered with garish, showy frills. Each was indistinguishable from the next, and at their feet were dark red heels, spare white bonnets, red ties with some unreadable (but vaguely European) symbols, and golden earrings.

It was all so gaudy and absurd. Surely it took Celeste hours longer to prepare herself than any of the other girls, and for what? Mukuro tried to imagine any situation in a killing game where these complicated, monstrous dresses wouldn’t be a detriment, and came up short.

Better not tell her that, though…

The dorm’s ceiling lights glinted off of something in the closet, just barely visible behind the dresses. Carefully, Mukuro raised a hand and pushed one of the stands to the side. There, she found four sets of enormous twin-drill pigtails. Only now, in this context, could Mukuro see the subtle black clips that allowed them to fasten to a person’s head.

“Oh yeah,” she muttered. “I forgot your pigtails aren’t real…”

“Hmph!”

Mukuro looked over her shoulder to find Celeste plucking one of her parasols from the corner. She twirled it through her hands almost too quickly to see, scowling and looking away from her guest.

That was the wrong thing to say… I need to remember that Celeste cares deeply about her image. She even freaked out about the whole ‘Taeko Yasuhiro’ thing.

A moment later, Mukuro thought:

I hope I don’t have any ridiculous insecurities like that.

Above the dresses and fake hair, she spied several shards of light brown wood poking out of the closet’s walls. She raised a hand and touched one, running a forefinger over the jagged, sharp wood.

“That’s what remains of the upper shelf,” Celeste explained. “I suppose I put too much weight on the old thing, and it just collapsed. The rest fell off and hit my dresses and pigtails, covering them in dust. I had to spend an hour cleaning up my pigtails last night.”

“What happened to the shelf?”

Celeste wordlessly nodded toward a trashcan in the corner of the room. Mukuro stepped over to it and saw some dozen fragments of wood inside, along with a small pile of dark brown dust. She picked up the two largest, which were each about the size of a hand, and examined them closely.

These were definitely parts of an inch-thick closet shelf identical to the one in her own dorm room. The top and bottom of the once-shelf was smooth and varnished. The sides where they would meet was separated by a fracture, one that moved in almost a perfect zigzag pattern.

Mukuro was no expert, but it seemed to her that this crack should have been much rougher and random. She ran a thumb it, and found that it was almost as smooth as the surface, and not jagged and ruined like she expected.

Her lips curled in. Something about this was wrong.

She stepped over to the closet again and pushed the pieces of wood onto the bits still in the wall. They fit just as they should have, but…

She pulled one of the chunks back, then tossed it as hard as she could into the far wall. It exploded into tiny bits and dust.

“Ah!” Celeste covered her mouth, then raised the parasol between herself and the wall. “What are you doing?”

Mukuro didn’t respond. Instead, she took the other piece in her hand and tossed it half as hard as she could. It smashed against the wall, leaving a small gash, but didn’t shatter. A moment later, it clattered harmlessly to the floor.

“This wood’s not old at all.” Mukuro said, decisively.

“Perhaps it was installed incorrectly?” Celeste suggested.

“No way,” Mukuro tapped the pieces still in the wall. “It felt like completely normal wood when I touched it. You said you broke it by putting too much weight on it?”

“That’s the only reason I can think of…”

“What did you put up there?”

Celeste motioned to her desk, then pulled open a drawer. Inside, Mukuro found ten sets of lacey black bras and panties.

Woah.

These bras were enormous. The only girl in the school they might have fit was Hina, but their general aesthetic was undeniably gothic and Victorian. Mukuro couldn’t help subtly looking over to her partner and checking – but Celeste’s chest was only about equal to her own modest one.

Is she… taping down her breasts?

Mukuro bit her lip. That didn’t seem important to the investigation, but it was such a bizarre thing to do. Did Celeste think it made her more elegant?

“Uh…” Mukuro scratched her neck. She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask about something like bra size. “Was this all that was on the shelf?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Celeste… All of this underwear combined weighs maybe three pounds. There’s no way this would break a piece of wood, even if it was old and crappy.”

Truth Bullet added: STRANGELY BROKEN SHELF

Celeste puffed out her cheeks, clearly annoyed.

“Well,” she huffed, twirling her parasol even faster. “I spent my youth wandering between Europe’s finest bars, casinos, and palaces! I spent it meeting the nobility and royalty of places you can’t even pronounce! I speak flawless English, French, and German! Forgive me for not also becoming the Ultimate Carpenter!”

“Sorry…” Mukuro sputtered, though she wasn’t sure what she’d said wrong.

“Go clean up that wood you threw into my wall!” Celeste demanded, still upset.

Mukuro obeyed without thinking. She picked up the shards of wood, but all of the dust was too hard to—

Mukuro blinked.

The dust.

She rushed over to the trashcan, threw out the remaining wood, and scooped up the dust into her palm. A second later, she kneeled by the dust on the floor she was responsible for.

The dust in the can was many shades darker than the dust from the wood. And come to think of it…

Mukuro took a bit of it between her fingers and pressed them together. The dust felt a little too solid.

The dust that got Celeste’s clothing dirty isn’t from the broken shelf.

Truth Bullet added: DUST FROM THE CLOSET

Mukuro sighed. There was definitely something wrong with this dust and with the shelf, but she wasn’t sure what. Worse yet, this was almost certainly important – but she didn’t know how or why.

With a grunt, she gathered up everything on the floor and tossed it into the can.

“What now?” she asked.

“Hm…” Celeste tapped a finger against her chin. “I doubt Kyoko and Byakuya are done with the body yet. I’ve been thinking, we only gathered an alibi for Taka and myself. Perhaps we should go back and finish that?”

Mukuro nodded, her mind still halfway on the dust.

Celeste led the way back to her door, opened it, and stepped out into the hallway.

“Come along, then,” she said.

Mukuro stepped over to join her, grabbed the doorknob, and—

She frowned. Something shiny caught her eye.

She kneeled down and furrowed her brow. Like any normal door, the metal locking mechanism was a different color from the wood…

“Is something wrong?” asked Celeste.

Mukuro didn’t respond.

Part of the metal was a different color from the rest of the lock – the part where the bolt of the lock connects into the frame. Most of it was a dull yellowish-gold, the same common color found on a billion door locks all over the world. But that piece, the actual part that locks the door, was a shiny gray. And where the rest of the lock was smooth, this part was rough and didn’t quite seem to line up with everything around it.

Mukuro reached down to the gray part and traced a finger across it. Instantly, she knew this wasn’t metal – it was duct tape.

“Celeste,” she said, very slowly. “Did you put duct tape here?”

Celeste’s single eyebrow raised.

“No, of course not.”

Mukuro pulled it off without any issue. She frowned as she examined the floppy half-inch of silvery tape, wondering how it got there. One of its edges was smooth and straight, while the other was more uneven and snaggy.

This was probably the first use of a new roll of duct tape.

Curious, she reapplied the tape to the lock. Celeste was still on the other side of the doorframe…

“Hey,” Mukuro said. “I’m going to close this door. Wait five seconds, then open it. Don’t use your key.”

Before her companion could ask why, Mukuro shut the door and locked it from inside, paying special attention to listen for the click. Seconds passed…

The door opened easily. Celeste stood on the other side, twirling her parasol and raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” she asked.

“Celeste! You saw that piece of duct tape I removed from your door?”

“Yes.”

“Putting it there made it impossible for your door to lock properly. It was open the whole time, it just looked locked.”

Celeste and Mukuro each had the naturally palest skin in Hope’s Peak. Under certain light, both could at times seem the color of chalk. Right now, though, the former’s face was even whiter than normal. One of her eyes twitched for a few seconds, and then the Ultimate Gambler’s poker face failed her completely.

“Are…” she sputtered. Her face contorted in rage, and then she smiled, clearly still upset. “Are you… suggesting that I’ve… been sleeping in an unlocked room?”

“Well… yeah.”

Celeste’s cheeks puffed for a second. She seemed to swallow something, and then her entire body started vibrating. Her hand tightened on the parasol’s handle, and the light sound of snapping wood filled the air.

Without thinking, Mukuro ripped off the duct tape and took several steps back. Celeste’s face oscillated between fury, indignation, and disbelief.

Then all was well, and she was back to the normal cold, composed girl everyone knew.

“I see.” she said softly. “Do you know who put that tape there?”

“No…”

“When I find out who it was,” she said, very cheerfully. “I’m going to hurt them a lot.”

Truth Bullet added: TAPE ON CELESTE’S DOOR

Celeste turned away, playing with her toy parasol, but Mukuro was flipping the tape between her fingers and thinking of something else:

If you had the ability to sneak in and kill Celeste, why would you kill Sakura instead?

Two options leapt out at her:

1. The tape was placed here this morning, and the killer never had the chance to go after Celeste.
2. You specifically wanted to frame me for killing someone, and that’s easier with Sakura than with Celeste.

Mukuro hummed. Neither thing made any sense. For the first, there was no reason to sabotage Celeste’s door after already killing Sakura. For the second, there was no reason to bother framing anyone in particular if you could just sneak in and slice open Celeste’s neck in her sleep. Both of those had to be wrong.

“Yasuhiro!” Celeste yelled. Mukuro looked back up to find her partner, apparently completely back to normal, looking across the hall. “We were just looking for you!”

“Woah, really?” came a deep voice. “You know, I’d be happy to give you a reading of where I’ll be next time you need me, for just a few thousand yen!”

Mukuro slipped the piece of tape into her jacket, then stepped out of the room to find Hiro walking casually toward them from the direction of the warehouse. Behind her, she heard Celeste close and lock the door, then test the knob several times. It was hard not to smile.

“Mukuro, you’re there, too?” Hiro laughed. “How’s it going?”

“Yasuhiro,” Celeste cooed. “You seem awfully unperturbed for being in the presence of a potential murderer.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I was worried earlier, but then I remember that I did a reading on Mukuro last night. I know she can’t be the killer.”

Celeste seemed almost impressed.

“Truly? You’re certain?”

“Yeah!” Hiro gave them a thumbs up. “I’m right 100% of the time, 30% of the time!”

Celeste raised a hand to her lips, then giggled.

“You hear that, Mukuro? You only have a 70% chance of being a murderer.”

Mukuro shot daggers at her, then turned back to Hiro.

“Hiro,” she asked. “Could you tell us about what you were doing around 9:15 last night?”

“Why?” he asked, blankly.

There was silence for a time.

“Because… that’s when the murder happened.”

“Oh! Ha, okay.” He laughed again. “I went to the cafeteria around 8:55 PM, I guess? I was doing some late-night readings.”

“Was anyone there with you?” Mukuro asked.

“Uh… Nope!” He laughed. “But Celeste saw me. We talked a little bit.”

“That’s actually true,” confirmed the gothic girl. “The cafeteria faces across from the bathhouse. When I went to take a bath, I saw Yasuhiro through the doorway. He had a good view of the dorms from where he sat. We said hello to each other before I went inside.”

“And that was at 9:00 PM?” Mukuro asked.

“Yep!” Hiro crossed his arms.

“But the murder was at 9:15…”

Hiro’s happy demeanor faltered for a second.

“Ughhhh! Oh wait, but I know more stuff that proves I was in the cafeteria until after the murder!” He seemed on the verge of panicking. “You gotta believe me!”

“Hiro, I don’t seriously susp—”

“At 9:15, I saw Taka go into the bathhouse!” he continued.

“To talk with me…” Celeste rolled her eyes.

“I’m not done yet! At about 9:20, I saw Toko wandering around by herself! That was just after the murder took place! Super suspicious, am I right?”

“Toko was out late?” Mukuro lit up. “Where was she going?”

“She went into the main school area, out of the dorms. I didn’t say hi, she’s kinda… scary, after the whole Genocide Jack thing. A bit afterward, at around 9:30, Aoi came back from the school,” he continued, slightly calmer now. “She looked kinda miffed, so I didn’t talk to her. Then Taka left the bathhouse five minutes later and went back to the dorms, too.”

Mukuro rubbed her chin for a few moments.

“So, the sequence of events is… You went into the cafeteria at 8:55. You saw Celeste go into the bathhouse at 9:00, Taka enter the bathhouse at 9:15, Toko leave the dorms for the school at 9:20, Hina enter the dorms from the school at 9:30, and Taka leave the bathhouse at 9:35?”

“That’s right! If I saw all of that, then I can’t have murdered anyone!”

“The cafeteria is very close to the warehouse…” Celeste hummed. “If Toko really was there just after Sakura’s death…”

Hiro crossed his arms, then laughed loudly and obnoxiously.

“That means she’s totally another suspect!” He slammed an open palm onto Mukuro’s back, sending her reeling forward a few inches. “Plus, she’s an actual serial killer. I bet Toko’s the killer for sure! Consider it another one of my predictions!”

“Hm…” Celeste weaved some of her hair over a finger. “It’s impossible to pass between the dorms and the school without someone in the cafeteria seeing you. Therefore, Yasuhiro’s account at least clears Taka, Aoi, and myself.”

“What about me?!” he demanded.

Celeste leaned forward and intently gazed into his eyes.

“You could have seen Taka enter the bathhouse at 9:15, rushed over to the warehouse, killed Sakura, and returned before 9:20,” she said.

Hiro opened up his mouth, then turned blue.

“But… But I… Aghhh! I really was in there, I swear!”

“Don’t worry,” Mukuro shook her head. “Celeste is being silly. I believe you.”

He calmed down a little after that, then nodded.

“Uh… Thanks.”

“But, in all seriousness,” she continued. “When did you leave the cafeteria?”

“Around 9:45. I had a huge emergency.” He pulled a hand into his pocket, then removed a white napkin. Inside of it was what looked like half a deck of cards covered in something crusty, yellow, and disgusting.

“What… the hell is that?” Mukuro asked, not willing to get anywhere near it.

“My tarot cards!” he groaned. “It’s what I get for a late-night cheese wiz-tarot reading, I guess. After I did this, I went to the warehouse to pick up a new deck.”

“Does the warehouse even have spare tarot cards?” Celeste asked.

“I wasn’t sure, so I did a reading first, and the reading said yes!”

But if you can do a reading without the cards, why do you even need to—

Mukuro shook her head. That was a rabbit hole not worth jumping down.

“Though, to be fair,” Hiro rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I’m not sure if the cards being covered in food throws off the accuracy.”

“Did you find the new cards?” Mukuro asked without thinking.

“No! Why do you think I was going back to the warehouse this morning?” Hiro shoved the napkin and cards back into his pocket. “The stupid warehouse door was broken or something, so I couldn’t get in.”

“What?!” Mukuro's eyebrows jumped up, shocked at Hiro having said something so obviously important. “What do you mean it was broken?”

“Well… like I said.” He shrugged. “I tried to push open the door, but it just kinda jiggled around in the frame.”

“Could it have been locked?”

“No way! The knob moved normally, and it still sort of moved around when I pushed it. I think it was stuck on something.”

“Was the door still busted this morning?”

“Nope! Worked just fine.”

Truth Bullet added: HIRO’S ACCOUNT

Truth Bullet added: WAREHOUSE DOOR

“Thank you, Hiro,” Mukuro said, genuinely. “You really helped me out.”

“Why were you coming to the dorms, anyway?” Celeste asked.

“Oh, yeah!” Hiro slapped his forehead. “Byakuya told me to find Hifumi. No one’s seen him or Toko all morning.” Mukuro and Celeste grew quiet, but Hiro kept right on talking, completely oblivious to the importance of this. “Byakuya wasn’t super interested in finding Toko, but he said he needed to know if Hifumi was dead or not, so he told me to go check his room.”

The two girls fell in step behind him. Mukuro’s eyes darted to Celeste’s. No words were exchanged, but each knew what the other was thinking:

Someone else might be dead.

A few seconds later, they stood in front of Hifumi’s dorm room. A bronze plaque emblazoned with his face stared back at them. Hiro pressed the doorbell…

There was no response.

Even Hiro seemed to understand the seriousness of this. He pressed the button again, and then a third time.

After the sixth unanswered ring, Mukuro reached over to the doorknob and tested it.

It barely moved. The door was definitely still locked.

“What do we—”

Before she could finish the sentence, the door jangled for a few seconds from within. A lock clicked, and then it opened.

Inside, Hifumi pressed an arm against a wall, leaning most of his considerable weight against it. The other hand he used to push on his stomach, growling and gritting his teeth as he did so. He was shaking, and most of his skin was gray. One of his eyes was shut closed, and he wobbled back and forth even while braced against the wall, seemingly barely able to stand. Saliva leaked out of his open lips and dribbled down his chin, staining the clean white undershirt that covered most of his chest. His usual jacket was nowhere to be seen, but he still wore what was obviously an unwashed pair of gray pants from the night before, absolutely soaked in musty, putrid sweat.

He looked almost dead.

“Bleughh…” he managed. Several thin strands of spit formed as he opened and closed his lips, snapping apart when a foul-smelling belch escaped his throat. “What’s… happening?”

“God, Hifumi!” Mukuro instinctively reached out a hand to help steady him. She didn’t actually want to touch his head and cover herself in his sweat and saliva, so she grabbed at his relatively clean shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No…” he said, very slowly. “I think I… ate something bad…” He leaned more of his weight against the wall, until he was pressed up against it completely. “Is something wrong?”

“… Sakura’s dead.” Celeste said. Unlike Mukuro, she kept a great distance from him.

Hifumi closed his one eye, then nodded.

“I’m sorry, Miss Ludenberg…” he whined “I think I’m… just going to go back to sleep… Call me when… Mono… ku…”

He slumped down onto the floor, still leaning against the wall, then pushed closed the door with his foot.

“Wait!” Mukuro yelled. “Before you do that, what did you eat last night that did this to you?”

“Sakura…” he answered, already half-asleep.

The door shut closed with a click.

Truth Bullet added: HIFUMI’S STOMACHACHE

“I should have suspected Hifumi was fine,” Celeste said. “He ate something that did this to him? Hmph. That’s probably a lie.”

“He didn’t look fine,” Mukuro responded, a little kindlier. “But if he’s still alive, then we can’t afford to spend time worrying about him right now. I hope he’ll be alright by the trial.” She sank into thought for a second. “You know, speaking of food, I bet Sakura went to the warehouse to get some of her protein powder last night, and that’s when the killer struck. So, we should talk to the last person to see her.”

“No doubt that’s Aoi.” Celeste said, a little disinterestedly.

“I think she’s in the cafeteria,” Hiro said. “She kept getting in the way of Kyoko’s poking around, so Byakuya sent her there to be alone for a bit. Anyway, see ya guys at the trial.”

He gave them another thumbs up, then waved and tromped down the hall. Shortly afterwards, the pair set off for the cafeteria.

As promised, Hina sat alone, her back to the doorway. She nursed a cup of water in both hands, absently pushing it around the surface of the table. Her body seized up every few seconds, and her soft wheezes and sobs filled the air.

Mukuro made sure to step into the cafeteria as loudly as possible, so that Hina would know she was coming. She rounded the table and looked deeply into her friend’s eyes. There was still suspicion there, but the initial rush of fear and grief had waned.

“Hina…” Mukuro started. She wanted to say more, but no words came to her.

Hina pursed her lips.

“I want to believe you’re innocent,” she said, extremely weakly. “I really do, Mukuro.”

“… but you’re worried about how Sakura died in a fight.”

Hina looked away. Her eyes were watery.

“I just don’t see how anyone else could kill her that way.” she whispered. “If someone can come up with another explanation, anything else, then I’ll believe it in a second. But until then… I don’t… It’s just…” She sucked in her lips. “I feel really bad for doubting you.”

Mukuro nodded sadly. She desperately wanted to embrace her friend, to hug her tightly and mourn for Sakura together…

She was just about to turn away when Celeste intervened.

“We’re here to ask you about Sakura’s last whereabouts,” said the gambler, completely devoid of sympathy. “You might be the last person who saw her alive.”

Hina gulped something down, then rolled her chin across her chest.

“Yeah… That’s what Byakuya said, too.” She sighed. “I’ll tell you what I told him. After she spoke a little in the bathhouse two nights ago, Sayaka’s been sorta able to respond to people and do stuff. Last night, she was even able to talk to me a little bit. She said she wanted to stay alone in her room and sleep by herself. She’s slept in my bed or Sakura’s bed every night since the time you stopped Leon from killing her, so I thought that was okay.”

“This was around 10 PM?” Celeste asked.

“No, no. It was like 7:30. Sayaka’s been so weak lately, I figured she wanted to go to bed early. After that, Sakura and I realized this was the first chance we’d had in days to visit the pool together, so we went. We had a ton of fun. Sakura left around 8:50 for a late-night protein shake. I stayed behind to burn off some more energy. I was planning on swimming until 10 PM, but then she showed up.”

“‘She?’” Mukuro and Celeste repeated at once.

“Genocide Jack.” Hina puffed out her cheeks. “She came into the pool area. At first, she was surprised to see me, then she started yelling about how I was trying to steal Byakuya from her. Blegh!” Her face turned blue, and she stuck out her tongue. “Not in a million years.”

“What’d you do?” Mukuro asked.

“I told her she was nuts, then I dried off and left. That was around 9:25, I guess. After that, I went straight to my dorm and fell asleep. I didn’t even hear the nighttime announcement. I guess… I guess Sakura was already dead by that point.” She sniffled. Tears streamed out of her eyes. “Mukuro… I really want you to be innocent.”

“I am!”

“I…” Hina looked away, rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I guess that’s all I have to say that’s useful.”

Truth Bullet added: AOI’S ACCOUNT

Mukuro retreated to another corner of the cafeteria, trying to keep herself from crying. It hurt so much for Hina to look at her that way, or to not look at her at all. She’d already lost Makoto and Sakura; she couldn’t stand the idea of losing another friend.

She was so drained. She wanted to just lay down on one of these tables and fall asleep…

“So!” Celeste trilled. “Where to next?”

“Ugh…” Mukuro pushed her palms into her own eyes. “I don’t know…”

“You’d better know,” her companion pushed. “Otherwise, we might all die.”

Mukuro turned to face her, doing nothing to hide her annoyance.

She’s been perfectly helpful, said a voice from within. She’s the only person on your side right now…

Mukuro shook her head to dispel her anger, then closed her eyes again. It was so much easier to just sit down on a chair and wallow in mutual misery with her actual friend, Hina.

Don’t be unfair to Celeste…

“I’m just so tired…” she moaned, rubbing her eyes.

“You put us all in danger by being so frame-able,” came the calm reply. “If you really care about the others, then you have to do everything you can to find the real killer.”

Mukuro glared at her.

“As if you were concerned when Hifumi didn’t show up to the body announcement.”

Celeste shrugged.

“Weren’t we all there?”

“No! Hifumi and Toko were—”

Toko.

They’d confirmed that Hifumi was fine, more or less, but Toko’s whereabouts were still a mystery. She’d skulked around the dorm area last night, and seen Hina at the pool…

She’s definitely involved in this somehow…

Mukuro swallowed. If no one had seen Toko since 9:25 last night, and she’d missed the body announcement, there was a real chance that she was also dead.

The Ultimate Soldier shot out of the cafeteria at full speed, her mind consumed by a single image: Toko Fukawa, murdered at the edge of the pool.

Chapter Text

Mukuro leapt up the steps to the second floor five at a time. In the great distance behind her, somewhere near the entry hall or the student store, she might have heard the click-click-click of a girl in heels struggling to keep up. When she reached the top of the stairwell, she barely glanced backward, then launched herself in a hard left without looking. She soared through the air for what felt like seconds, caught her foot against the wall, and then jumped off toward the door that led to the changing rooms.

Cool air rushed through her hair, her body moved without conscious thought, and her foot pressed down on the knob just before she made impact with the door. Years of honed experience took over, and she pulled her body into a roll as she landed on the carpet. A moment later, she stood at the door to the girl’s changing room, just underneath the massive Vulcan cannon hanging from the ceiling. Less than three seconds had passed since she’d reached the stairwell on the first floor. Almost certainly, this was the fastest anyone in history had ever moved from the dorms to the pool area.

Desperate to check on Toko, Mukuro slammed against the door to the girl’s changing room, then grunted with frustration when nothing happened. She kicked it where it met the floor, and the entire frame shuddered.

I could break this door, she thought, automatically.

Instead, she slipped a hand into her jacket, pulled out her e-Handbook, and swiped it across the scanning panel installed in the wall. The door slid open over the course of several agonizing seconds, but Mukuro just sucked in her gut and maneuvered through the slowly-widening crack the moment she could.

Vaguely, she noticed that the girl’s changing room was completely pristine, as if that fight with Monokuma had never happened. But none of that mattered; she just bolted through and made for the door to the pool area. Sweating, breathing hard, and shaking, she slammed a fist down on the knob, kicked open the door, and barreled into the open, brightly-lit pool area. Mukuro swung her head from left to right, sweeping her eyes across the surface of the clean, beautiful water, and found—

Toko Fukawa, standing at the far corner of the pool.

She spun a pair of scissors lazily around one finger, releasing it occasionally and letting it fly up into the air. Each time as it fell, she hooked a new finger into the holes of the grip, waving her long, disgusting tongue across her lips—

Ah, Mukuro bit the inside of her cheek, a new source of worry replacing the relief she should have felt. It’s Jack.

The would-be serial killer set two crazed, burning red eyes on her. Her happy smile contorted into a suspicious, angry scowl. A moment later, she leapt across the entire width of the Olympic-sized pool, pulled her legs up to her chin, and landed powerfully right in front of Mukuro. The entire time, she kept twirling those scissors, which now looked very much like daggers. One thing was certain:

Jack claiming to have fought Sakura wasn’t an idle boast.

The self-proclaimed Ultimate Murderous Fiend frowned, obviously confused at her new target’s failure to scamper back in fear. The look on her face was easy to read: I’m a nearly superhuman serial murderer, I’ve tortured and killed a ton of people – why aren’t you afraid of me like the others?

Mukuro just glanced down at her for one second, then crossed her arms. Jack might have had several blades and an unhinged, natural fighting prowess, but that was never going to pose a serious threat to a trained professional in a straight fight. The Ultimate Martial Artist could take her, and the Ultimate Soldier needed only a half a second to know that she could do the same.

Jack gave her new guest a fiery death stare, then bit down on her thumb, just as Toko often did. Mukuro’s skin crawled with an awful realization: just as she’d sometimes understood Sakura’s warrior mindset, she had some grasp over this serial killer’s, for they were both murderers of scores of men. And Jack was definitely thinking one thing:

Goddammit, I bet she’s killed more cute boys than I have!

It was true. This murderer had taken dozens of lives, but Mukuro’s own kill count was an order of magnitude above any mere serial killer. Even if most of a soldier’s victims were of average or ugly men, the occasional cute boy who got through would easily put her over Jack, just by accident.

I deserve that “Genocide” title more than she does…

 Mukuro hugged herself without thinking.

Jack pulled her hand away from her face, then started twirling her scissors again. There was less humor on her face than normal.

“What’re you doing here?” she demanded.

“I could ask the same question,” Mukuro said, trying to dispel the thought of how many lives she’d taken. “But… I came looking for you.”

“Me? Hey now!” Jack violently thrust out a hand, waving one of her blades a scant few inches from Mukuro’s neck, trying vainly to intimidate her. “You’d better not be here to spy on me and Master!”

Mukuro blinked, confused. Before she could answer, the door to the girl’s changing room opened again, and out came Celeste.

The Ultimate Gambler took one look at them, then leaned against the wall. Her face was redder than usual, and sweat poured all across her brow. She huffed for breath several times, sucking in air with an open mouth, and barely held onto her parasol.

It was only a run the length of two hallways…

Mukuro decided not to voice this thought.

“Well!” Celeste barely managed. “I see… you found… Toko…”

“Don’t confuse me with her!” Jack shot back. “I’m a completely distinct, much sexier person. You can tell the difference ‘cause I’m Master Byakuya’s favorite between the two of us.”

I… wonder about that.

Mukuro decided not to voice this thought, either.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, shaking her head. “I promise, I’m not here to spy on anyone.”

“Hmph! And how do I know that?!”

How do you reason with an insane person?

“Because… I brought Celeste with me? And we can’t be working together to spy on Byakuya because… obviously, we’d be rivals for his love?”

Jack’s eyes flit over to the girl in question. Her tongue hung limply out of her mouth for a few seconds as she sank into thought, and then—

“Okay!” she screeched, pushing her hands onto her stomach and cackling. Her good spirits instantly flooded back, and her lips pulled into an inhumanly wide smile. “That makes sense!”

Mukuro nodded. She wasn’t sure whether or not she should be relieved at having so easily guessed how to appeal to a serial killer.

“Jack,” she said, slowly. “Are you aware that there’s been a murder?”

“Oh, sure,” came the casual reply. “I heard the announcement. What am I, deaf?”

“Then why didn’t you come to the warehouse to check out the body?”

Jack blew a long raspberry.

“Do you know how many bodies I’ve seen? They’re not that interesting, unless they’re part of my art. And I don’t really care abou—” Her face turned blue, and she grew unusually serious. “Wait. Who died?”

“… Sakura.”

“Oh!” She smiled again. “Yeah, I don’t care!” She howled in laughter, and Mukuro wanted to punch her in the face. “I’m waiting for Master!”

“… Byakuya’s coming here?”

“Sure is!” Jack pulled a hand into her long skirt, then removed a crumpled-up piece of brown paper. On it, Mukuro saw the neat handwriting of a boy:

Toko

Meet me by the pool at midnight.

– Byakuya

Jack pulled the note back to her chest, then hugged it.

“I’ve been waiting for him alllllllll night! He’s sure to come!”

Mukuro raised an eyebrow, then looked at the still out-of-breath Celeste. The gothic girl was just as confused as she was.

“Jack,” Mukuro said. “You do know that it’s past 8 AM, right?”

“So what?” Jack shrugged. “Master’s an important man. He probably got held up somewhere. I don’t mind him being a little late, unless it’s for our wedding.”

“But Byakuya’s in the—”

“Excuse me!” Celeste jumped in unexpectedly. “Errr, Jack, could you please tell us when you got that letter?”

“Dunno!” Jack was already shrugging, but now she pushed out her shoulders even farther. It actually looked a little painful, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I woke up in my dorm when Miss Morose sneezed, and I was already holding it. I read it, checked the clock, and hightailed it over here so Master wouldn’t be mad I was late.”

“So, Toko found it while in her dorm… Perhaps Byakuya left the note at her door, and before she could leave to meet him, you took over?”

“Sounds about right.” Jack nodded, bobbing her tongue all over the place.

“Hold on,” Mukuro interrupted. “So what time was this, that you were worried about being late to the meeting?”

“Oh, around 9:10, I guess.”

Truth Bullet added: BYAKUYA’S NOTE

Mukuro opened her mouth to protest that it made no sense to leave that early, but given who she was talking to…

“I see.” she responded, a little proud of how diplomatic she managed to sound. “And you stayed in the pool area, waiting for Byakuya, for… eight hours?”

“Hey!” Jack puffed up her chest. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that Master blew me off, right?! Not a chance! Because last night, I heard him.”

Mukuro furrowed her brow.

“You heard him?”

“In there.” Jack motioned to the door to the boy’s changing room. “I heard him in there, rummaging around. He must’ve come to see me as planned, but then gotten drawn away by something important.”

“Jack, it’s been over eight hours since midnight!”

“No, no, no! I didn’t say I heard him at 12. This was closer to 1 AM. He must’ve just been late. After a while, the sounds disappeared, and no one ever came for me.”

Mukuro frowned.

“Did you actually hear his voice?”

“Well… no. But who else would be in there? I’d have gone in there myself to meet him, but the door’s locked, and even I’m not crazy enough to mess with changing room doors as long as a gatling gun is involved.”

Mukuro sank into thought.

“I’m trying to decide if there are any obvious contradictions in what you’ve said.”

“Huh?” Jack cocked her head. “Why’s that?”

“Sakura died at 9:15, so you just admitted to being out of your room right when the murder happened. Plus, Hiro mentioned seeing you pass the cafeteria at 9:20.”

“What?!” The Ultimate Murderous Fiend spun a pair of her scissors around one of her fingers so fast, the blades seemed almost to disappear into the air itself. “I didn’t notice that doofus spying on me. How dumb do you need to be to stalk me?” She blinked for a few seconds, then laughed again. “Oh well, this is actually great!”

“It is?”

Jack shrugged again, completely carefree.

“I’ve never killed anyone at Hope’s Peak, including Sakura. I guess I did pass by the warehouse right when the murder took place, though.”

“Aren’t you worried that people won’t believe you?”

Jack slapped her hands together, then started drooling.

“Master Byakuya’s far too smart to fall for whatever fake evidence the killer might’ve planted. Oh, I can just imagine the trial right now! Some idiot accuses me of murder, probably you, and my knight in shining armor rides to the rescue, telling everyone how although he hates me and I’m a horrible person in a general sense, I couldn’t have committed this specific murder.”

“… You seem very accepting of Byakuya’s distaste for you.”

“Ha! Miss Morose is the delusional one, lying to herself about how Master loves her. Me? I like the back-and-forth abuse.”

“Okay, but what if Byakuya isn’t able to prove it?”

This idea clearly offended Jack, so Mukuro held up her hands and instantly switched tracks.

“Er,” she corrected herself, smiling a bit nervously. “What I meant to say is, what if Byakuya needs your help in proving that you’re innocent? Do you have any other evidence that you couldn’t have hurt Sakura?”

Jack scowled down, then tapped one of her scissors against her thigh.

“Oh, wait! There was someone else up that night! He’ll back me up.”

“What?” Mukuro perked up. “Who was it?”

“I saw Huffy in the dorm area when I left my room. He screamed a little when he saw me, we chitchat for a bit about how much he didn’t want me to stab him to death, and then he made an excuse and waddled off.”

“Where to?”

“Dunno. How much attention do you think I pay to that guy?”

“Huh… We’ll have to ask him about this at the trial later. We spoke to him earlier after Byakuya got curious about him.”

“What?!” Jack’s eyes flashed. “Now Master’s more interested in Huffy than me?! I’ve already read this doujin…” A moment later, she grabbed Mukuro by the shoulders, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hold it! If you knew that Master got curious about Huffy after the murder, then you must’ve seen Master since then! Where is he?!”

Mukuro did feel some sympathy for Byakuya, to be stalked by such a monster… but only some.

“He’s in the warehouse right now, examining—”

Jack zipped away, cackling madly, and then she was gone.

“She makes me rather uncomfortable…” Celeste murmured, and twisted a long strand of hair around her finger. “It’s a shame we lost Sakura instead of her.”

“Celeste!” Mukuro gasped. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

“Can you say I’m wrong?” she shot back, her voice completely even.

Mukuro sucked in her lips.

Not only can’t I say that, but I was thinking the same thing myself…

“Anyway,” She thought it best to change the subject. “Where to now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Celeste asked. “Jack said she heard someone in the boy’s changing room at 11 PM.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s right. But we can’t get in because we’re both girls.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. Monokuma!”

She shouted the name into the air. A moment later, the bear in question dropped in from the ceiling.

“Speak of the devil,” Mukuro muttered. “And he shall appear…”

“Haha, you wish!” Monokuma pressed his paws to his belly and laughed. “No, every living person in this school right now is just a normal, mortal human. No demons allowed!”

“Mukuro and I need to access the boy’s changing room,” Celeste said, completely ignoring the argument. “You will open the doors for us.”

“Whaaaaaat?!” Monokuma’s face flushed red with feigned embarrassment. “But Makoto’s already dead, so who’s Mukuro planning to ambush in there now?”

The soldier’s foot shot out before she could stop it. Her kick connected straight with Monokuma’s face, who flew through the air, flipped several times, and landed in the water. He sank like the metal robot he was, and then—

Boom

An explosion of water soaked half the room, though not the part Mukuro stood in. Cracks formed all over the clean tiling, and the floor of the pool buckled in. Concrete, wood, and rebar tore and collapsed into a tremendous, cavernous hole. A second later, the pool flooded through the opening, swirling around and draining into the gym on the first floor with a deafening roar. Through the rupture, Mukuro saw the water expand over the wooden court where they’d first met their headmaster, damaging and warping the floor underneath.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

Mukuro flipped on her heels and found the bear right behind her.

“Argh! You’re really testing my patience!” Monokuma paced back and forth for a second, steaming with anger. “Do you have any idea what that’ll cost to fix? Do you have any idea how much that’ll strain the budget? That’s it! No more Pizza Wednesdays!” He held out a paw, and three metal claws extended. “Oh, also, you broke the rules again, so I’m going to kill you now.”

Mukuro pulled her hands into fists. She couldn’t help but smile. Trying to win people’s trust was hard. Trying to prove to her friends that she wasn’t a murderer was hard. Trying to deal with Mukuro the Ultimate Despair was hard.

Fighting was easy.

Her eyes flit up to a speck of black. Celeste dashed to a corner of the room and pulled herself into a tiny ball. Her eyes, always red and calm and mysterious, shone with terrified tears. Instinctively, the girl held out here parasol in front of her like a shield, cowering behind the thin piece of fabric like it would do anything. A barely audible whimper escaped her lips.

Mukuro’s jaw dropped. She suddenly hated herself.

She lowered her hands to her hips, then regarded Monokuma with a cold, hateful glare.

“You can’t kill me,” she declared. “I’m too important for this trial.”

“Are you, now?” he taunted.

Mukuro smiled. For once, she got to wield power over him.

“Kill me now, and everyone will know that I’m not the murderer. But Sakura’s killer framed me specifically, with that fight in the warehouse and the spear. I’m a crucial part of their plan. If people know for sure that I didn’t hurt anyone, then you unfairly tilt the trial in favor of the non-Blackened students. Which means that until the trial ends, I’m untouchable.”

Monokuma stood perfectly still. He said nothing.

“Oh? Do you disagree?” Mukuro’s smile turned cruel. She held out her hands, then got onto her knees. The extended claw was level with her heart.

She scooted toward the metal blades. Monokuma backed up.

Her eyes narrowed. She scooted at the claw even faster. He backed up again.

At last, he lowered his paw. He stared back at her, and although his eyes should have been robotic and impassive, Mukuro could sense the indignation and hate burning behind them.

“Celeste,” he said, his usual humor evaporated. His voice was even, but it dripped with venom. “You wanted to go into the boy’s changing room, right?”

He walked over to the door, pressed a paw onto the doorknob, and twisted. A moment later, the way was open.

“This is only until the trial is over, and only so you can look for evidence.”

A moment later, he bounced back into the ceiling.

Mukuro got back up to her feet. Her blood was pumping harder than it ever had before. She couldn’t stop smiling.

I won, she thought, absolutely elated. I beat him at his own stupid game!

She pulled her hands to her cheeks, flushed beat red, and squealed in delight.

I won, I won, I won!

Then she remembered that Sakura was dead, and she came crashing back to Earth. She sighed, and turned around to help Celeste.

The Ultimate Gambler was already struggling back to her feet. That abject fear she’d succumbed to was already gone, and her composed, elegant poker face was back. Before Mukuro could apologize, she raised a hand and scoffed.

“I believe Monokuma has opened the way for us,” she said, her voice shaking just enough to be noticeable. “Let’s hope we find something useful.”

She stepped into the now-open door without waiting for a response, an obvious attempt to reclaim her dignity. Mukuro followed closely behind.

The boy’s changing room was very much like the girl’s. The same weight machines, benches, lockers, rows of dumbbells, and punching bags were in the same places. At a glance, there were only two differences: the walls were blue instead of violet, and the poster on the wall was of a huge-breasted supermodel at the beach.

Mukuro’s gaze subtly, unconsciously lowered down to her body. Without thinking, she pushed out her chest as far as it would go.

“We should start searching.”

She looked up at her partner, suddenly embarrassed, but the other girl mercifully had her back turned.

“What are we looking for?” Mukuro asked.

Celeste rolled her eyes, then absently drummed a finger against her parasol’s handle.

“Are you not paying attention? No one is supposed to be up past 10 PM. If someone was here last night, it might be related to the murder. So! Go check everything.”

“Aren’t you going to help?”

Celeste leaned over. Bright ceiling lights glinted off her deep red eyes.

“I’ll supervise.”

-----

The next five minutes passed in relative silence. Mukuro first combed over the floor, but there was nothing to see. Next, she checked the doors and doorknobs, to the same results. After that came the weight machines. Each of them was covered in dust, and probably hadn’t been used in months. Then the benches, then the lockers, then the poster, then the punching bag. All of them held no clues, and all were covered in dust.

“No one’s used any of this equipment in weeks or months.” she said, decisively.

“That’s no surprise,” Celeste agreed. “I suppose that biker gang leader might have been interested in this sort of thing, but the only others who would be are Sakura, Aoi, and you, none of whom can normally enter here.”

So, no one’s been using the boy’s room at all, except maybe to pass through to the pool… which means that whoever was here last night doesn’t come here often.

Mukuro smirked, a little proud at her deduction.

A double-rack of one-handed dumbbells was pushed against the wall near the punching bag. The heads on them were black and round, and were marked with numbers that scaled from 5 to 100, all in nice, clean rows. Each of the numbers was arranged right side up, a fact that made them simultaneously easy to read and easy to be certain that they’d never been touched. Like with everything in this room, a thick layer of dust hung over all of them.

Mukuro’s eyes narrowed.

One of the dumbbells on the bottom rack didn’t quite match the others. She kneeled down and looked it over more carefully, and realized that the 20 was upside-down. Even more strangely, it was shining and clean.

“Celeste, come here,” she said. Once her partner stood over her, Mukuro pointed to the dumbbell in question. “Do you notice something weird about this?”

“No… Should I?”

“It’s upside-down, but all of the others are arranged more nicely. And it’s not dusty at all.”

“Maybe someone used it recently?”

“They used only a single twenty-pound one-handed dumbbell? And took it from the bottom rack?”

Mukuro pulled it from its resting place. It felt lighter in her hands than she expected, though that was probably due to her deceptive strength.

Her nostrils widened. Confused, she moved the dumbbell almost up to her nose, and sniffed.

Bleach?

“Someone cleaned this thing,” she said. “The scent’s not that strong anymore, but you can definitely still smell the cleaning solution on this. And… if it had been longer than a day, I bet the smell would have dissipated completely. Jack was right – this is definitely evidence that someone was here in the last twenty-four hours!”

“Check it completely,” Celeste replied. “If it was cleaned, there must have been something on it that was worth cleaning.”

Mukuro rolled it over in her hands for a few seconds. The metal grip shone brightly in her hands, except when the dark shadows cast by its heads caught it.

“Oh!”

There was something very tiny caught where the grip met the head. Mukuro would have missed it but for those shadows. She pressed her thumb and forefinger around it and gently pulled. When she opened her palm, she found a tiny pink fiber, no longer than a quarter of an inch.

“It’s a tiny thread of cloth.” Mukuro pursed her lips. “I don’t know what it’s from.”

“How did it get caught in the dumbbell?” Celeste asked.

“… That shouldn’t have been possible,” Mukuro shook her head. “Dumbbells are designed so that the weights on either end are flush against the handle. There’s not supposed to be anywhere that a piece of cloth can get stuck.”

She reached out and grabbed the head where she’d found the thread. Sure enough, when she shook it, it was very slightly loose. The difference was almost unnoticeable, but now that she was looking for it…

“The weight’s not put on properly.” she murmured.

Truth Bullet added: DUMBBELL RACK

Truth Bullet added: THREAD OF CLOTH

“Hm!” A smile tugged at the corners of Celeste’s lips. “I wonder what the others will think of this?”

Mukuro shook her head.

“I’m not even sure it’s connected to the murder. All we know is that a dumbbell got damaged, then cleaned with a piece of cloth.” She stood up, then slid the thread into her jacket. “I hope it’ll be useful, though.”

“Hmph!” Celeste twirled around her parasol again, idly tapping a red heel against the floor. “Do you know what? I’ll bet Byakuya and Kyoko are done with the body.”

The body!

Mukuro grimaced at the thought of seeing Sakura like that again, but it had to be done. She nodded several times, more to steady her own nerves than to actually agree, and made for the door.

“Let’s go.”

They exited the boy’s changing room into the main entrance. The massive, beautiful Vulcan cannon hung over them. Mukuro wished there was more time to admire it, but for now, she had to make for the hallway. Just as they left, she took one last glance back at the gun—

And noticed that the door to the girl’s changing room was kept just slightly ajar by a pale hand. Through the crack, she could see someone had turned off the lights, so that all that was visible inside were two shining white eyes peering out at her, silently following her every move.

Mukuro’s heart beat faster. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted, and she recognized the silhouette hiding itself.

“Sayaka…?”

The door slid closed.

-----

Mukuro rounded the corner into the warehouse. A whirlwind of brown and black flashed across the doorway, something long and red and warm and covered in slobber brushed against her cheek, and something girl-sized and girl-shaped collided with her, sending her careening backward into a wall.

“Hey!” Jack screeched, pushing a hand across Mukuro’s chest. “Watch where you’re going, lady!”

Mukuro winced, then raised a hand to wipe off the drool splattered halfway across her face. The Ultimate Murderous Fiend stood in front of her, annoyed and frustrated. As always, she twirled a pair of her signature scissors around one of her fingers.

“Sorry,” Mukuro replied, rather insincerely. “I didn’t realize you were coming out of the door.”

“Ha! Leave it to Pukuro not to keep track of the serial killer’s whereabouts. But it’s okay!” Jack pushed her to the side, then slid out of the doorway and into the hall. She might have smashed into Celeste, too, but she stopped short, whirled about, and flipped behind her. Then she leaned from side to side, smiling insanely and undulating her tongue. “Master’s given me an important mission, and I just completed phase 1!”

“… What’s phase 2?” Mukuro asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Jack howled with laughter for some reason, then grew more serious. “I’m sure he’ll tell you later. Byeeeeee!”

With that, she fled down the hallway, giggling hysterically at a joke only she understood. Mukuro and Celeste stared at her in confusion for a few moments.

“Pardon,” the gothic girl said suddenly. “This will be where we part ways. I’m going to go check something out. I’ll see you at the trial.”

She gave one of her quick, girlish waves like nothing was wrong, then followed Jack into the dorms. Mukuro sighed, and entered the warehouse by herself.

The scene was much as it had been before: shelves were collapsed, their contents scattered all across the vast room. Finding any item in particular was probably impossible now. White gashes in the walls and broken equipment everywhere told the story of a mighty battle that had taken place not too long ago.

Sakura still lay face-up in the middle of the pool of blood, but the spear had been removed and set by her side. Now that it was out of the body, Mukuro could see that it was just a long wooden pole that someone had crudely carved a point into on one end. That end was thick with pink blood.

Kyoko stood by her lonesome in the center of the room. She pressed the back of one of her gloved hands underneath her chin, intensely studying some invisible detail on the far wall. Besides her, only Taka and Leon were still in the room. Byakuya was nowhere to be seen.

Mukuro first made for Sakura. For a long time, she stood over the body, watching it, and breathed.

It was hard to look at her like this. The bravest and noblest person Mukuro had ever known was reduced to this: a pile of cold meat. Dark bruises dotted her arms and legs, remnants of her final fight. The only honor or consolation done to Sakura was that she’d died in battle.

Mukuro kneeled down in the pool of blood and pressed her palm to the body’s heart, just above where the spear had been removed. Moist blood got underneath her fingernails. Tears dribbled down her cheeks, fell from her chin, and splashed against dead, bronze skin.

“I’ll avenge you,” she whispered, too low for even herself to hear. “Against both Junko, and whoever did this.”

“Good.” came a reply.

Mukuro startled for a second, but soon realized the word hadn’t come from Sakura herself. She looked up to find Kyoko standing above her.

Kyoko, the maybe traitor, the maybe Ultimate Despair…

She steeled herself. Even if this seemingly helpful girl was a spy (or worse), Junko obviously wanted the trials to go on as planned. Kyoko would be reliable at least until they learned the real killer’s identity, so Mukuro stood up, nodded, and wiped away her tears.

“Did you learn anything?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kyoko said, utterly calm. “I’m sure we’ll go over this again at the trial, but you deserve to know for now. I performed an autopsy on Sakura’s body—”

“What?!” Mukuro gaped. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“I did it with Chihiro, if you’ll recall. Though, in her case, the cause of death was easier to determine.”

Kyoko kneeled over the corpse, then ran one of her gloves through its hair. Now that she was closer and paying more attention, Mukuro could easily see the wound mentioned in the Monokuma File. The top of the skull, right where the hairline met the forehead, had clearly been smashed in by a powerful blunt weapon.

“I’ve confirmed that both attacks, the blunt object and the spear, happened while she was still alive. I don’t know which one came first, or how much time passed between them. The blunt weapon has also been removed from the scene – we searched everywhere carefully, and found nothing that could have done this that’s liftable by a single person. Finally, Sakura’s arms and legs are also covered by a number of dark bruises.”

“Places where she was hit during the fight,” Mukuro guessed.

“No.” Kyoko pointed at the largest and ugliest of the contusions, one near the top of her upper arm. “Her blood was already coagulated when the bruises were formed. That means she was already dead. It’s also worth noting that there are no bruises on the back of her body, only on the front and the sides.”

Truth Bullet added: KYOKO’S AUTOPSY

“Next up is the spear,” she continued, ignoring Mukuro’s obvious questions. “It’s a simple wooden pole that someone carved into a makeshift weapon. The spear’s tip doesn’t quite line up evenly with the center, so the point is nearer to the circumference than it should be. Whoever carved it is probably an amateur. More importantly, look at this.” She picked up the spear, and traced a finger over several coin-sized brown circles that formed a perfect line down its side. “Do you know what these are?”

“… No,” Mukuro admitted.

The lavender-haired girl nodded, then motioned over to the back of the room, toward a simple wooden ladder propped up against the wall. One of the legs was missing, and the rungs hung lamely in the air. “Byakuya found that half of a ladder while I checked Sakura. We compared it to the spear and it’s a match. Someone cut through the rungs with a saw, then took the loose leg and turned it into this.”

Truth Bullet added: SPEAR

Mukuro glared hatefully at the weapon. If someone had prepared such a thing in advance, then this couldn’t have been a spur-of-the-moment thing. Someone had targeted Sakura after all.

“Next is her hand.”

Kyoko set down the spear and carefully grabbed Sakura’s right wrist with both of her hands. The difference in size between the ogrelike Sakura and the ordinary-sized girl lifting up her arm with mild difficulty might have been comical in another context.

In any case, Kyoko motioned to the hand itself, which was pulled into a mighty fist. Mukuro kneeled over it and—

“There’s something inside!”

“Yes.”

Kyoko produced a pair of tweezers, probably also taken from the warehouse, and meticulously inserted them between Sakura’s massive fingers. Over the course of several seconds, she removed a fist-sized piece of white cloth. All of its edges were ripped and roughly torn from whatever the larger piece of cloth it had once been attached to.

“What is it?” Mukuro asked.

“I’m not sure, but one of Sakura’s last actions was to tear it. She kept it safe for us, whether she intended to or not.”

Kyoko handed it over to Mukuro. The cloth itself was too thin and smooth to have been from a towel or anything of the kind, and nothing came to mind as a possible source for it. Certainly, it didn’t come from Sakura’s uniform, which was damaged from the fight, but not torn.

Truth Bullet added: SAKURA’S PIECE OF CLOTH

“Next is where Sakura actually died.” Kyoko said, prompting Mukuro to quickly stuff the mystery cloth into her jacket pocket. “This is right next to where the shelf for protein powder was.”

“What?!” Mukuro zipped over to the nearest shelf. Bottles of powder were indeed strewn across the floor. “Then… they attacked her while she was getting some. They took advantage of her routine.”

Kyoko didn’t respond. Two cool, purple eyes looked up at Mukuro, giving away none of the thoughts behind them.

The world grew blurry again. Mukuro wiped away tears with her wrist.

“I’m sorry, Kyoko,” she said quietly. “Sakura told me about her routine with the protein powder. She told me that you called her careless for trusting everyone like that. We just laughed at how silly you were being…” A bubble of air rose out of her throat, and she hiccupped. “Oh, God! If I’d told her I agreed with you, maybe—”

“That’s not a productive way of thinking,” Kyoko said simply. “The ones at fault are the person who killed Sakura, and Monokuma.”

“Then… do you believe I’m innocent?”

Kyoko lowered her head, then poked a finger at the very edge of the pool of blood.

“Look at this.” she said.

She believes the evidence, Mukuro thought. I’ll just have to hope the evidence agrees with me.

She finished wiping away the tears, then followed Kyoko’s finger.

“What am I looking at?”

“The location of the blood. Do you see any blood anywhere else, besides this pool?”

Mukuro quickly glanced around the room. Despite the chaos, there actually wasn’t much in the way of blood. She saw only a much smaller puddle she’d overlooked before, and even that was only about five or six feet away from the larger one Sakura was in, right next to where the shelf with the protein powder had once stood.

“Over there.” she said.

“Anywhere else?”

“No…”

A light smile tugged at the ends of Kyoko’s lips.

“You’re right, in that those are the only two sources of blood anywhere in here. There’s also no blood on any of the warehouse’s stock or shelves, except where they rolled into the puddles.”

Truth Bullet added: BLOOD IN THE WAREHOUSE

“But…”

Kyoko pointed behind Mukuro, who turned around to find the door to the hallway. Barely an inch to its side, she saw a large wooden chest of drawers. She didn’t recognize it in particular, but she’d seen others similar to it in the back of the warehouse.

She looked it over quickly, but saw nothing obviously amiss.

“It’s one of the spare chests of drawers, I guess…”

“And what does that mean?”

Mukuro frowned at Kyoko, slightly annoyed at the obvious test, but also grateful that the other girl still saw her as worthy of even being tested.

“It’s weird that someone moved a chest of drawers all the way over here, but not to their room,” she said. “Actually, all of the rooms already have desks and closets, so it’s weird that anyone would want more storage space at all.”

Truth Bullet added: OUT OF PLACE CHEST OF DRAWERS

“There’s one more thing I found,” Kyoko said. “It’s probably the most important thing of all, so I saved it for last.”

“Oh?” Mukuro brightened a little. “What is it?”

Kyoko opened her mouth, and—

Ding dong bing bong

A monitor on the warehouse wall lit up with static. A moment later, Monokuma sat on a wooden throne, staring directly into the screen.

“Weeeeeeeelp!” he trilled. “I’d say you’ve all had just about enough time. It’s right around time for the second class trial! You all know where to assemble. Heehee! See you soon…”

Kyoko frowned, a rare moment of obvious emotion.

“It’ll have to wait for the trial,” she said. “I hope you used your time wisely.”

I hope so, too.

-----

The red velvet door.

It stood at the end of the hallway, ominous, foreboding, and cruel. Eleven students would enter it, but only ten would leave – or just one.

Mukuro hated that door. Not just what it represented, but even the door itself. It looked nothing like the rest of the school. If not for Monokuma, she would probably have ripped it down just on principle.

“To ensure a fair and reasonable trial, I will guarantee you all that the murder of Sakura Ogami was not an accident. Someone in this school, other than yours truly, killed the Ultimate Martial Artist on purpose.”

Those words echoed in Mukuro’s mind again and again. She wouldn’t trust Monokuma as far as she could throw him (though, to be fair, she could probably throw him pretty far), but she doubted he would lie about something important to a trial.

One of us murdered Sakura, she thought, despondently.

Could it be the spy? Could it be Kyoko, the Ultimate Despair? Or did someone genuinely give into the game and take a life for the purpose of escaping?

Her legs moved without her meaning to. Soon enough, she was in front of the door. Her hand raised on its own and pushed it open, and then she entered.

Byakuya, Genocide Jack, Celeste, and Hiro stood on one side of the room. Taka, Hina, Kyoko, Leon, and a white-faced Sayaka stood on the other. Hina looked over to Mukuro with quivering, suspicious eyes, but said nothing.

In the back corner of the room, near the elevator down, Hifumi leaned hard against the wall. He’d managed to pull on a new gray jacket, but the effort of lugging himself this far was almost too much for his body to take. His face was red and covered in grimy, disgusting sweat, as were his glasses, and he had to press both of his chubby hands against his stomach to keep his shaking legs upright. Even his hair was unkempt and fraying, and every few seconds, an “ughhhhh” snaked out of his lips.

Other than this, no one made a sound. The air was almost too thick to breathe. Even the people who had doubts about Mukuro being the killer still had the same thought in their head:

Someone here is ready to kill us all.

Mukuro scowled, then steeled her nerves.

Makoto gave his life to save the rest of us. Sakura would have given hers, too. Her hands pulled into fists. I’ve got to make sure that counts for something!

A monitor on the wall lit up.

“Heehee! You’re all here! Well, I think we can skip the drill for now and get right to business. Please, please! Everyone, step aboard, and all of your fates will be decided… I’ll be waiting!”

They entered the elevator one at a time. Last time, it had been almost impossible to cram so many people onto it. But now, with their numbers reduced by two, it was easier to move and breathe.

Mukuro’s fists shook.

I’d stop breathing in a second, she thought. If I could bring them back.

The elevator jolted, and they descended. No one said a word. Even Jack was serious.

Seconds passed.

They stopped, and the doors slid open. The same wide, circular room expanded out in front of them. The walls were blue, and red velvet drapes hung at regular intervals. Sixteen podiums were arranged in a circle, and Monokuma’s throne stood behind the only empty spot.

Junko’s spot.

Mukuro and Sayaka climbed onto their places. As before, Makoto’s podium separated them. Both of them looked over to the picture Monokuma had placed in his stead: a smiling, innocent black-and-white photo, with a simple red X drawn across the center.

Sayaka sobbed once, then again. Instinctively, Mukuro reached over to comfort her—

The idol pulled recoiled, nursing her hand like she’d been attacked. She bared her teeth like an animal’s, and for once, her eyes showed an emotion besides despair: raw, unceasing hatred.

Last time, Mukuro, Makoto, and Sayaka had shared in each other’s strength, ready to face the trial head-on as friends. But now…

“Okay, okay!” Monokuma interrupted. “It’s finally time! The second class trial is finally starting!”

Mukuro turned back to the circle in front of her. Save for Hifumi, everyone was doing the same thing: looking right back at her.

Our second case… A deadly crime… A deadly double-cross… A deadly mystery… A deadly lie… A deadly… class trial!

Chapter Text

“Let’s begin with a basic explanation of the class trial!” Monokuma trilled.

“Didn’t we already do this the first time?” Hiro asked, obviously perplexed. “Shouldn’t we j—”

“So! Your votes will determine the results. If you can figure out ‘whodunnit,’ then only they will receive punishment. But if you pick the wrong student as the killer, then I’ll punish everyone besides the Blackened, and the one who deceived everyone else will graduate!”

How helpful…

An open palm slammed into its podium, and the smack echoed into the large, empty room. Mukuro turned sharply to her right – two spots over was Leon. He thrust his other hand toward her, waving it over the amused, cackling Genocide Jack who separated them.

“Like we even need a trial at all!” he yelled. “It’s gotta be Mukuro!”

He said the words with complete certainty… but he shied away from actually facing her as he threw out the accusation. A twinge of pain stabbed at Mukuro’s heart. She looked at Leon, even at that scar she’d given him that night with Sayaka… but all she could think of was that goofy, silly guy playing the guitar horribly in the cafeteria, and that moment they’d shared together.

“I agree that it is Mukuro,” Taka nodded, crossing his arms. “However, we should obviously still conduct the trial. Nothing is gained by ending it early, and we owe it to Sakura to learn the details of how she was betrayed and murdered.”

Mukuro sighed.

Well, I knew these two were against me from the start…

“Kyahahahaha!” Jack slammed her fist into her own podium several times, laughing hysterically. Leon pulled back in surprise and fear. “No way, no way! The faster we vote, the faster I can get back to stalking Master!”

“Enough!” Byakuya snapped. “Shut up, all of you. Especially you, Jack. Even if Mukuro is the killer, we might still discover something unexpected and useful by playing along with the trial.”

“Then, do you also believe she murdered Sakura?” Celeste asked, idly tapping a finger along the edge of her podium.

“For now? Let’s just say that I’m open to hearing the evidence.”

Hina stood at the podium directly across from Mukuro’s. She listened to the argument in silence, biting down hard on her lip and staring into her friend’s eyes. She fidgeted with fingers again and again, murmuring some low, gravely sound as the trial and suspicion tore her up inside.

If for no one else other than Hina, I have to prove I’m innocent!

“Alright,” Kyoko nodded. “Now that we’ve decided, I’ll start by explaining the circumstances of the death that we know. Sakura was killed at 9:15 in the warehouse by the dorms. We found a wooden spear in her chest, but her head was also bludgeoned by an unknown heavy blunt object. The entire warehouse was upended and destroyed—”

“Wh—what?” All eyes turned to Hifumi. He was wavering back and forth at his podium, but he managed to look up as Kyoko said that. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “What do you mean… the room was destroyed?”

“That’s right, you weren’t there.” Kyoko crossed her arms. “The warehouse shelves were all knocked down, their inventory was scattered everywhere, and there were big gashes in the walls.”

Hifumi seemed confused, then grabbed his side again and shook his head back and forth. He seemed on the verge of vomiting.

“Ugh… I understand, Miss Kirigiri… Please, continue…”

“No need for her to say anything else!” Leon shouted. “I’m just gonna say what we’re all thinking!”

(Present Your Argument)

“Mukuro is the only person who could fight Sakura and live.” He scratched at the scar she’d left on his face all those nights ago. “Hell, she even used a spear both times.”

“A—anyone can use a spear,” Hina suggested, a little halfheartedly. “They’ve been around for thousands of years…”

“It is true that anyone can hold a spear,” Taka conceded. “But not just anyone can hit the world’s greatest martial artist just beneath the heart with one.”

“Ugh… Ooghh…” Hifumi shook his head and pressed his hands across his bulging gut again.

“Kyahahahaha!” Jack cried in laughter, then twirled two pairs of scissors across her fingers. “Sakura wouldn’t have gone down to any normal fighter, that’s for sure!”

“And it was during the fight with Ogre that the warehouse got wrecked up…” Hiro added, stroking his chin.

“Yeah, okay!” Leon smiled, fully satisfied in their reasoning. “Mukuro is the best soldier on Earth, right? We all heard how her profile said she’s ‘trained in every weapon type imaginable.’ So, she used her weapon expertise to make a spear in advance ‘cause she knew she couldn’t beat Sakura in a straight fistfight.”

“But… we still don’t know what the weapon was that hit Sakura over the head!” Hina tried again, tearing up.

“…” Sayaka’s narrow blue eyes never moved from Mukuro’s face.

“Who cares?” Leon slammed his palm on the podium again. “It was probably something that would give away that it was Mukuro, so she took it with her and hid it somewhere.”

(Spear > She used her weapon expertise to make a spear in advance)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Mukuro breathed in and out for a few seconds, sweating profusely. Everyone turned to her. She swallowed several times, trying in vain to calm herself, and forced her body to stand up straight. Her eyes darted to Kyoko’s, but the other girl said nothing, and gave away nothing with her quiet, calm demeanor.

Either she thinks I’m guilty, or she wants me to prove I can defend myself…

Mukuro hoped it was the latter.

“Leon,” she said. “You claimed I made that spear to kill Sakura with, and I used my knowledge of weaponry to do it, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right!”

“Wrong. In fact, I’m the single person who’s least likely to have made it. Have you actually looked at the spear?”

“Well, not close-up…”

“I see. Well, let me help you. A spear basically consists of two parts: the shaft and the spearhead. The shaft can be any length and thickness, but the head has to terminate in a sharp point so it can be used to pierce things once thrusted. On a traditional spear, made back when they were used as serious weapons of war, the spearheads were made of metal. Understand so far?”

“Uh—”

“The most important part about a spearhead is the way it’s shaped. It’s absolutely crucial that sharp point of the spear ends directly above the shaft, in a single smooth line. On a spear that’s carved out of a single chunk of wood and doesn’t have a dedicated metal spearhead installed into it, you need to make sure the sharp point extends directly out of the center of the shaft. Think of it like a circle, where the closer you get to the center, the more effective your spear will be.”

“Okay…”

“The spear pulled out of Sakura… wasn’t like that at all!” This time, it was Mukuro’s turn to thrust her hand forward, and Leon’s turn to jump back in surprise. “That spear’s point is way off-center. It’s a terrible excuse for a weapon that was clearly made by a total amateur with no understanding of the intricacies of how spears work or even of how to carve wood. Not to mention, it was made out of the leg of a ladder pulled out of the warehouse itself. That thing was flimsy and useless, it would be impossible to rely on it in a serious fight.”

Leon sucked in his lips.

“Well,” he grunted. “Maybe you carved it wrong on purpose, to confuse us?”

“I would have no way to be sure that anyone would even pull the spear out of Sakura in the first place,” she retorted. Mukuro was almost smiling; she was on a roll and she knew it. “If you’ll recall, I was sent out of the warehouse during the investigation. I had no way to direct anyone to notice the spear at any point. Plus, Sakura is the greatest martial artist on Earth. Going up against her with a substandard weapon on purpose? No one would ever even think to do that. It’s something that only someone with no experience in fighting at all would ever try.”

Mukuro’s eyes darted to Hina. She was smiling, too, and gripping the edges of her podium. She was coming around. They were all coming around.

“Dammit!” Leon was getting frustrated now, and not trying to hide it. “Okay, well what if you couldn’t make a better spear? The only material in the warehouse to make a spear out of could be those ladders you mentioned—”

“No way. There’re plenty of long, thin pieces of metal and wood you can get anywhere in the school. Those bleachers in the gym, for one. If you were really thinking about it and knew what you were doing, you’d grab one of those at around 3 AM when everyone else is asleep, turn it into a spear, and bring it to the warehouse for later.”

“I… Well…” Leon crossed his arms. “I may not be able to explain it exactly, but—”

I’m smarter than Leon, she thought triumphantly. I can pry apart anything he says and prove I’m innocent!

“I can explain it.” said another voice. That shook Mukuro back to reality. Byakuya pressed a finger to the edge of his glasses, then regarded her with a cool, cruel suspicion. “It’s actually quite simple. If there’s one thing we know about Mukuro Ikusaba, besides that she’s the Ultimate Solder, it’s that she has amnesia. She’s made that very clear. It’s entirely possible that she set out to expertly carve a spear, then whatever synapse was supposed to fire just didn’t, and she made a bad one by accident. People who take head trauma often make stupid, minor mistakes like that.”

“Wh—what?!” Mukuro was taken aback. She hadn’t expected anyone to argue against her mental state. “But… I’ve never made any mistakes like that before!”

“Haven’t you?” Byakuya propped up a finger against his glasses. “As I recall, you lost control of yourself during the first fight with Sakura and almost killed her, just mechanically following your soldier instincts. And you’ve been extremely emotional and somewhat irrational – that is, more than usual – since Makoto died.”

There was no possible response to that claim. It both completely dismantled everything Mukuro had said and was immune to any counterarguments.

Smarter than Leon, she moped. But not Byakuya…

That spark of life and hope and trust in Hina’s eyes was dimmer now, but not yet extinct. Near her, on the other side of the dead biker guy’s portrait, stood Kyoko, who watched the scene carefully and silently.

“Ooooh, that makes sense!” Leon gave one low laugh. “Trying to trick me like that, Mukuro! Not cool!”

“It’s only a theory,” Byakuya admitted. “But it does fit with the facts of your behavior.”

“No… I didn’t make that spear!”

Hiro grunted, then scratched the back of his head.

“I dunno, Mukuro…” he said. “That looks bad.”

“You said you believed me!”

“Yeah, I did. But I’ve been thinking, right?”

“I’m shocked.” Byakuya mocked.

“Hey! Just listen! Mukuro, the important thing isn’t really the spear. It’s the fight itself. Leon didn’t suspect you ‘cause of your amazing spear powers. He suspected you ‘cause you’re the only person who could fight Sakura. So… as long as Sakura died in a fight…” Hiro scrunched up his face. He looked like he was thinking harder than he ever had in his entire life. “Then… You’re the only one who could’ve killed her!”

The room was silent for a while. And then…

“Hiro,” Taka said, a little more gently than normal. “We already knew all of that.”

“Just be quiet, you oaf!” Byakuya shook his head.

Hiro shrank back, annoyed and ashamed, but something in his words resonated with Mukuro.

As long as Sakura died in a fight, then I did it…

The Ultimate Clairvoyant might have been dumb, but he was, in his own weird way, a genius.

“What if the fight… wasn’t what it looked like?” Mukuro suggested. “By that I mean… Sakura wasn’t killed in a fight, and the room was just staged that way?”

“Staged? How?” Hina asked, suddenly more vibrant.

“I… don’t know.”

“Ha!” Byakuya’s contempt had never been clearer. “You can’t just throw out unsupported ideas and expect them to mean something. You need something to back up your claims.”

Mukuro swallowed, hard. This had been so much easier the first time, when she could either rely on Makoto or already had all of the answers. Trying to argue like this was more like wading through a pool of uncertainty.

“Back up my claims? Okay…” she said, making up each word as she went and yet still trying to sound confident. “How about this? Everyone in the school knew about Sakura’s routine to get protein powder, right? So… anyone would know about the importance of the powder itself. What if… it was poisoned with sedatives from the nurse’s office?” She couldn’t help her voice squeaking as she said the word. “And that made her weak enough for someone besides me to fight?”

“Oh, really?” Byakuya laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Do you know what Sakura was doing immediately before she went to get that powder?”

Mukuro thought back to her evidence.

“Swimming with Hina?”

“That’s right. Aoi!” Byakuya turned to the suddenly alert Ultimate Swimmer. “Did Sakura seem out of sorts to you at all?”

“No… She was totally normal.”

“I thought so. If Sakura had been drugged before getting that protein powder, from her previous batch, then it surely would have already taken effect before she went to get her next batch. You couldn’t possibly rely on it starting to take effect in the few minutes between leaving the pool and reaching the warehouse.”

Mukuro’s throat tightened. Byakuya could slap down any half-formed argument the second it left her lips, and he knew it. He wasn’t going to give her any room to try to build something, not unless it was based on an indisputable fact…

“But—what if she wasn’t poisoned with the powder? Hifumi is also poisoned, right?” She pointed over to the boy groaning at his own podium. “Maybe they ate the same bad thing that was only meant for Sakura…”

Byakuya scowled for a moment, but at least he didn’t instantly dismiss it.

“Hifumi!” he demanded. “What did you eat yesterday that made you… like this?”

“Ugh… Argh…” Hifumi shook his head. “Nothing. All I ate was what everyone ate for lunch and dinner last night… We had chicken, didn’t we…?”

“It’s true,” Hiro said. “I remember Hifumi yesterday, and he did eat with us. Sakura did, too. We all had basically the same thing, except Sakura also had her powder, and Aoi had some donuts with it.”

Mukuro glared at him like the traitor he was.

“Then, Hifumi,” she asked kindly, hoping to pull anything useful out of him. “Why do you feel so awful?”

“I don’t know!” he groaned. “Maybe… it’s allergies?”

“Hmph.” Byakuya rolled his eyes. “It’s an interesting side story, I’ll admit, but it seems unrelated to the topic of Sakura. Because the simple fact is that Aoi saw Sakura completely fine minutes before she died.”

Mukuro wiped a sleeve across her forehead. It came back dripping with sweat.

I need something… I need anything to pull suspicion away from myself and get everyone talking. Maybe then I can come up with something solid… If I can’t prove that the scene was staged, and I can’t prove that Sakura was weakened, then I need to prove that someone else could have killed her in a fight…

Mukuro looked up and to her right. The long-tongued, self-admitted serial killer stared back at her with crazy red eyes, cocking her head in surprise and curiosity.

It’s probably not you, Jack… Mukuro privately admitted. But…

“I think we need to consider Genocide Jack a suspect!” she screamed, much louder than she intended. “Jack once said that she fought Sakura fairly and only barely lost! And… I’ve seen her jump the width of the pool! She has just as good a chance in a fight as I do!”

It was all a lie, of course. Jack could never hope to kill Sakura in a fair fight. And Jack probably wasn’t stable enough mentally to come up with any complicated plans, and since she didn’t share memories with Toko, she was the only person in the school who hadn’t seen the time with the spear in the gym, so she plausibly might not even know to frame Mukuro with a spear in the first place.

Mukuro waited for a few seconds, chest rising and falling, knowing that everyone was going to say she was wrong, that it was impossible, that—

“Well, maybe…” Taka conceded. “She is an insane serial murderer…”

“Yeah… Yeah!” Hina made a fist, then glared across the room at her. “It was definitely Genocide Jack!”

On the other side of Makoto’s portrait, Sayaka’s pale blue eyes narrowed. Her gaze held on Mukuro, who could only wonder what was going on in the idol’s mind.

Jack didn’t respond at first. Instead, she simply turned to Byakuya and smiled innocently. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. A moment later, her entire expression changed.

(Present Your Argument)

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” she roared. “How dare you, Pukuro?! I would never kill Sakura!”

“Because she’s too strong?” Hiro asked. “Or because you’re not an evil murderer?”

“Neither! It’s ‘cause I only kill cute boys!” Jack angrily stamped a foot, sending her tongue flopping all over the place. “Didn’t I explain this already? If you aren’t a cute boy, I won’t hurt you! … physically, anyway.”

“Maybe that’s true in a professional sense,” Taka said. “But if you were promised an escape from the school, you might easily make an exception!”

“Nope!” She cackled again, like a medieval witch. “I have a very specific way of murdering people – I’m an artist, not just some garden variety wannabe-escapee! But even if I wanted to escape that badly, I still wouldn’t kill to escape if it got Master killed, too!”

“You care about Byakuya that much…?” Hina asked, oddly sympathetic.

“Of course! Master shouldn’t be killed by anyone except me!”

“Go crawl in a hole and die.” Byakuya snapped.

“Only if it’s with you, Master…” She turned back to the rest of the class. “But as for the rest of you, there’s no evidence I hurt your precious Sakura, so you can all just stuff it!”

(Hiro’s Account > There’s no evidence I hurt your precious Sakura)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Jack stopped laughing in an instant. Her demeanor grew more serious, and she tapped a pair of her specialty scissors against her thigh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, voice more even than usual.

“There’s something you conveniently left out of your argument there, Jack,” Mukuro said, not backing down. “Hiro was in the cafeteria last night from 8:55 to 9:45. He said that he saw you – actually, he mistook you for Toko, and said he saw her – leave the dorms at 9:20. That means you were in the area of the warehouse when the murder took place, and left the area just after Sakura was dead. So, you see… You had both the motive and opportunity to commit this crime!”

Jack scowled.

“Maybe you’re forgetting something, Pukuro…” she rumbled. “But I said I lost my fight with Sakura.”

“Yeah… You did.” Mukuro smiled evilly. She had Jack on the ropes now. She could definitely do this. All she had to do was point out one simple little fact. “But, Jack, you—”

Mukuro turned blue.

She was about to say “You remember the fight with Sakura, while she forgot about it thanks to the amnesia, so you could learn from it, while she definitely didn’t.” It was the perfect, unassailable argument that would instantly shift suspicion away from herself.

… but they weren’t supposed to know that they’d lost their memories. If she said that now, Junko would know for sure that they’d learned things they weren’t supposed to have, and the others would view her as a traitor or an idiot for revealing that. Yet, she’d already committed to this line of reasoning. Backing down now would just confuse everyone else, and there was no way to communicate why she couldn’t say anything.

“—youuuuuuuuuuuu…” Mukuro sputtered.

“You, what?” Jack cocked her head again. “What are you talking about?”

“Youuuuuuuuuuuuu could have learned from your mistakes and fought better the second time?” Mukuro tried, in a desperate attempt to stick the landing.

That save was much weaker than her original reasoning, but it would have to do. She looked up to Kyoko and Byakuya, hoping desperately that they’d understand what she was trying to say. To her shock, both of their eyes were sharp. They seemed to see where she’d been going.

That didn’t help the rest, though.

“I guess that’s true,” Leon admitted. “But it’s not the most convincing. All it proves is that Jack could have killed her.”

Jack was incensed. She twirled one of her scissors almost too fast to see, then buried its blades in the center of her podium.

“How dare you suggest I would willingly dirty my hands with a girl’s blood?!” she cried. “You’re lucky you’re not a cute boy, or else I’d—”

Her face changed. An eyebrow rose up in surprise, her mouth opened, and she seemed almost to panic for an instant.

Then she sneezed, and Toko stood in her place.

“W—what?!” The Ultimate Writing Prodigy shrank back and covered her mouth. “Oh—oh no, not again!”

“Great…” Byakuya rolled his eyes.

“Wh—what happened this time?” Toko asked.

“Sakura died,” Celeste said, completely devoid of sympathy. “We think the killer was either Mukuro or you.”

“O—oh…” Toko bit down on her thumb. “Okay… Thanks. I’ll… just f—follow along from h—here?”

“Mukuro,” Kyoko interrupted. It was her first word in a while. “You said something interesting a moment ago. I’d like to go back to it for a moment.”

“Oh? Sure. What is it?”

“It’s about what Hiro said. He was in the cafeteria during the murder?”

“Sure was!” He gave her a thumbs up. “I saw Toko – uh, Jack leave the dorms right after the murder. I also saw Aoi come back from the school a while after the murder. Plus, I saw Taka and Celeste in the bathhouse when it happened.”

“S—scandalous!” Toko stuttered. “I—I expected that from the sw—swimming bimbo, b—but not the g—gothloli…”

The aforementioned swimming bimbo flushed red and looked away, while the gothloli’s eyes flashed red. Celeste glared across the circle without saying a word, and Toko let out a cowardly “eep” and scampered behind her podium.

“It wasn’t like that, of course,” Taka hurriedly explained. “I was just explaining to Celeste, from outside of the door, that she isn’t allowed to use all of the laundry machines at the same time.”

“I see,” Kyoko nodded. “So, Hiro’s testimony can clear three people immediately.”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Byakuya agreed. “Although it leaves open the possibility that he’s the killer.”

“What?! No, I’m not!” Hiro pushed a finger out and glowered at him. “The killer is probably your girlfriend! And aren’t you forgetting how I’m one of the people who discovered the body?!”

“… If you ever call her my girlfriend again, I’ll have my family build up a subsidiary corporation dedicated to convincing people that divination isn’t real.”

“Ah!”

“But you did raise something that’s almost a point.” Byakuya turned to Monokuma. “I have another question for you.”

“So you ask, and so shall I answer!” Monokuma shrilled. “What is it?”

“Explain the body discovery announcement to us.”

“Oh, that’s simple. Once three people have seen the victim’s corpse besides the killer, the announcement plays.”

“I see. Hiro, Taka, and Aoi discovered the body this morning, so we can at least discount them, and Celeste, right away.”

That’s wrong…

Mukuro’s mouth went dry. She recalled what Celeste had told her not one hour ago:

“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid… I was walking to the cafeteria when I saw Aoi and Taka emerge. They went right for the warehouse. Yasuhiro was already going in that direction… He was definitely the one who actually opened the door. I remember he screamed, and then he and Taka rushed inside. The announcement played, and Aoi joined them after that, and I ran as fast as I could to catch up…”

Mukuro shifted to face Celeste, but the other girl made no indication that she’d noticed the contradiction. And why should she? The only difference about this timing from her perspective is that it clears Hina’s name, but they already knew from Hiro that she couldn’t be the killer…

It must have happened over the course of no more than five seconds, she thought. Hina was just barely behind Taka, so it makes sense that the two boys didn’t notice that she wasn’t with them yet when the announcement played.

But then, did Hina herself know that Byakuya was wrong? Mukuro looked across the circle and saw only her friend’s wide, innocent eyes. It was impossible that Aoi Asahina could ever deceive anyone.

She probably didn’t notice the exact timing. Only someone watching it all happen from outside like Celeste would have caught it…

It was such a minor, trivial detail that even Kyoko and Byakuya had overlooked it, yet if it was true, it changed everything.

If the announcement played before Hina arrived, then that means Taka was the third person to see the body, Hiro the second, and the first…

Mukuro swallowed. She went numb at the realization:

Someone else saw the body besides the killer, and didn’t tell anyone else.

Not only that, but this person must have seen the body at some point between 9:15 PM and its discovery at about 7:50 AM. That meant that someone had gone into the warehouse, and probably after the curfew.

It has to be the spy…

The implications of the second spy were endless. If there was another spy, then that meant Sakura’s betraying of Monokuma hadn’t been a surprise. That would mean that Junko knew all about them learning the truth behind their amnesia. That would mean that all of their careful planning was completely for naught…

But that’s such a bizarre mistake for a spy to make, it gives them away for sure!

A second later—

Wait a second, if the spy works for Junko, and Junko controls the body announcements, then she could have just played the announcement whenever she wanted…

Mukuro bit down hard on her bottom lip. It felt to her that Junko was a stickler for the rules. Monokuma was always talking about how he enforces the rules and demands they be followed precisely. The idea that her sister would create this elaborate game and then play fast and loose with the body announcement to imply the presence of a nonexistent second spy…

Is another explanation besides a second spy?

Only one: Sayaka. Mukuro looked over to the white-faced idol, who stared back at her with silent, expressionless eyes. It could be that Sayaka stumbled onto the body somehow, and in her delirious state said nothing… But there was no possible way to prove that either way.

This matter was too important to leave ambiguous, but if Mukuro brought it up right now, the discussion would have to lead to whether or not there was another spy, which would inevitably culminate with how much Junko knew… and they weren’t even supposed to know about Junko in the first place! Bringing it up anywhere except the bathhouse just wasn’t possible unless she was prepared to tip the class’ hand and let the mastermind know how much they knew.

Mukuro’s heart exploded out of her chest. She had to make a call: stay silent and let everyone think that Hina was one of the three body discoverers, or risk everything over this and probably derail the entire trial.

“Mukuro?” Kyoko’s voice broke her reverie. Mukuro looked up, not having realized at all that she was staring into space. “We asked where you were.”

She decided to stay quiet on the matter.

“Oh… I was just in my room all night, like I said earlier.”

A second spy… If Junko honored the rules of the body announcement, that clears Taka and Hiro for sure… Probably Celeste, too, since she’d have no reason to lie about Aoi being a step behind the boys and give herself away like that…

That meant that one of Aoi, Byakuya, Hifumi, Kyoko, Leon, Sayaka, or Toko was working for Junko… although, Mukuro instantly dismissed the idea that it could be Sayaka.

“H—ha! I knew she w—was the k—killer!” Toko pulled one of her hands to her heart, then pointed at Mukuro. “There’s n—no other reason to l—lie like that!”

Mukuro blinked.

“Lie? I didn’t lie…”

“Y—yes you did! Because I s—saw you outside in the h—hallways at 9:00 PM!”

Mukuro balked.

“What? That’s impossible! I never left my room!”

“L—liar! I d—definitely saw you prowling around. P—probably thinking about h—how to murder S—Sakura, it was just b—before she died!”

Mukuro turned to the others. Everyone was silent, watching her… Judging her. Hina was sucking in her lips, terrified.

“It’s not true! It’s not!” Mukuro pleaded. “I… Toko, where did you see me?”

“L—like I said, in the hallway.”

“Where in the hallway? This is important!”

“W—well, you were walking away from the dorms, toward the c—common area with the b—bathhouse and warehouse and c—cafeteria and stuff. I d—didn’t know you were p—planning to kill anyone, so I didn’t f—follow you or anything…”

“But that’s not true! I didn’t leave my room all night,” Mukuro insisted. “But… if I did, then surely I would have seen you watching me. It sounds like you knew I wouldn’t have.”

“Th—that’s just because I k—knew you were c—crazy, so I didn’t s—say ‘hi’ or anything as you w—walked away.”

“Wait! So, you only saw me from behind?”

“Th—that’s right. But it was d—definitely you!”

“Could Toko be lying?” Taka asked, stroking his chin. “She is the other prime suspect…”

“N—no! I’m not l—lying!”

Mukuro watched the girl beside her thrash and deny it, and it really felt to her like Toko was telling the truth…

(Present Your Argument)

“I s—saw Mukuro from b—behind, leaving her dorm at 9:00 PM!” Toko insisted. “It was d—definitely her!”

“Well,” Hiro shrugged. “She definitely didn’t leave the dorms or go to the bathhouse, right? ‘Cause I would’ve seen her if she did, and the only person I saw go there at 9 was Celeste…”

“Speaking of me,” the gothic girl cooed. “I was also out and about at 9 o’clock, heading to the bathhouse, and I didn’t see Mukuro anywhere.”

“Ugh… ourgh…” Hifumi swayed back and forth at his podium, trying and failing to keep up with the discussion.

“B—but she could’ve h—hid somewhere you didn’t see!” Toko continued. “I—I only saw her b—by luck!”

“A better question is why you were out of your room at that time at all,” Taka observed. “There’s no rule against it, but you usually keep to herself, except when Byakuya is involved. There’s no reason for you to be out at night, stalking the hallways.”

“…” Hina sucked in her lips. She watched Mukuro with wide, watery eyes, desperate to offer her trust again.

“Hm…” Hiro tapped a finger on his podium. “I’m still thinking about where Mukuro went that night when she left her room. Besides the warehouse, she could’ve also gone to the laundry room!”

“That doesn’t work,” Leon shook his head. “‘Cause there’s no reason for her to lie about not leaving her dorm, except that she was planning to kill Sakura! So, either she’s lying, or Toko’s lying.”

“…” Sayaka said nothing, and seemed barely aware that a conversation was taking place at all.

(Byakuya’s Note > There’s no reason for you to be out at night)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Mukuro slammed a fist down on the podium before her.

“Taka, you’re half-right about that, but only half-right. There was a reason for Toko to be out that night, and it’s the same reason she left for the school.”

“Oh? Explain.”

“Actually, I don’t have the full story. Everything I know, I learned from Genocide Jack. Maybe Toko should explain it herself.”

“O—oh, yeah…” Toko reached into her skirt and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper Mukuro had seen at the pool. “At 9:00 PM, my d—doorbell rang. I o—opened up the door, saw Mukuro from b—behind, and f—found this n—note on the floor. It was from M—Master…”

“What?” Byakuya raised an eyebrow.

“Y—yeah!” She held it up. “It s—says ‘Toko, meet me by the pool at midnight. From, Byakuya.’”

“Give me that.” he demanded. Toko cringed back for a moment, then passed the note over. He read it for a few seconds, then looked up. “I never wrote this.”

“W—what?!”

Byakuya smashed the paper by making a fist, then looked from one student to the next.

“Someone here has made the incredible error of impersonating me.” he said, his voice low and full of hate. “When I find out who it was, assuming it wasn’t Toko—”

“N—no! I’d never l—lie to you, M—Master! I’m the v—victim here!”

“Huh… So, someone wanted Toko at the pool at midnight,” Leon frowned. “I don’t see how that helps us.”

“Wh—what do you m—mean?”

“I mean, who cares? All that matters is that you went outside and saw Mukuro.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kyoko said. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Or rather, I think Leon’s absolutely right, but not for the reasons he thinks.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“Can you tell, Mukuro?” Kyoko pressed.

All eyes turned to the Ultimate Soldier. She was sweating, feeling the heavy weight of Kyoko’s expectations on her shoulders…

But she actually could tell.

“Nothing happened to Genocide Jack all night at the pool,” she said. “That’s what she told Celeste and me. Which means that Toko’s going to the pool didn’t matter at all. The only actual, meaningful effect of her leaving her room for those few seconds is that she saw me ‘from behind.’”

“So what?” Leon insisted.

“So, the killer must have placed that note there just as a pretext to get Toko to see me – although I still stay I never left my room. If I was the killer, the last thing in the world I would want would be for anyone to see me leave just before the murder happened. So, I can’t be the one who left that note – and if the killer left it, then I can’t be the killer!”

Leon was stunned into silence. At length, he said:

“Maybe someone besides you was planning to actually meet Toko at midnight by the pool, and then just didn’t?”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Byakuya adjusted his glasses again, then smiled. “Something’s odd to me about this. The note says for Toko to meet me at midnight, but Hiro said he saw Jack leaving at 9:20.”

“I noticed that, too,” Mukuro explained. “But Jack is… well, Jack. She seemed to think it was completely reasonable to leave three hours early.”

“I see… Well, then there is another explanation: someone genuinely did plan to meet Toko by the pool at midnight, and then when Jack took over and left so early, panicked and called off their plan. You being seen was just an accident.”

“Wh—what?!” Toko bit down on her thumb again. “Wh—why would someone call me to the p—pool by using y—your name?”

“Because they wanted to murder you, probably.”

“Ah!” Toko grabbed her pigtails and shook her head several times. “N—no! I’ve n—never done anything wrong in m—my life!”

“What about all the murders?” Hiro asked.

“I m—meant besides that.”

“We’re getting nowhere,” Kyoko said. “Did anyone else see Mukuro out at night?”

No one responded immediately. Then—

“Actually,” Celeste sighed. “Jack did mention something about this. She said that when she left her room, she ran into Hifumi.”

“Ugh…” Hifumi pushed his red face into the crook of his arm. “Don’t…”

“Hifumi!” Byakuya snapped. “This is important. Were you out that night?”

“Ugh… Well, I don’t… Completely remember…”

“Jack said she spoke to him for a while,” Celeste said.

“Oh, that…” Hifumi nodded very slowly. Sweat dripped off his brow and splashed onto the floor. “Yes… Miss Jack stumbled into me… I asked her not to kill me, and she said… something… I don’t completely remember…”

“What do you remember?” Byakuya demanded. “Did you see Mukuro?”

“Urgh… Well…” He gripped either side of his podium, trying in vain to steady his shaky legs. “I…” He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just a blur…”

“Why were you outside at nigh at allt?” Kyoko asked suddenly.

The room went quiet for a moment. Hifumi wiped his forehead again, smearing a greasy stain across his sleeve, and nodded.

“I was trying to find some medicine for my stomachache,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad then, so Miss Jack might not have noticed that I was feeling ill.”

“How much attention do you think I pay to that guy?” Jack’s words echoed in Mukuro’s ears.

“And this was at 9 PM?” Kyoko pressed.

“No… More like 9:10…”

“J—just before the m—murder…” Toko said, rather uselessly.

“I didn’t see you leave for the nurse’s office?” Hiro said.

“That’s because I couldn’t make it all the way. Ugh… As soon as I was out and about, my stomach started acting up. I only made it to the end of the dorm hallway before I had to turn back… I wanted to ask for someone else to pick something up for me, but the only people I saw were Miss Ikusaba and Miss Jack, and I was a bit scared of them both… If I’d known you were in the cafeteria, Mister Hagakure, I might have…”

Hifumi’s face suddenly went redder, and he keeled over the podium. For a while, he just breathed heavily. After some seconds, he folded his arms over its surface, and buried his head in them.

“S—sorry,” he said. “Please, continue without me…”

“That wasn’t very helpful,” Leon said.

“On the contrary, it was most enlightening,” Byakuya smiled. “It means that Mukuro left her room fifteen minutes before the murder, and wasn’t seen five minutes before the murder.”

“No!” Mukuro looked at each of her classmates, pleading with her eyes. “I swear, I don’t know what Toko saw, but it wasn’t me! I never left my room!”

(Present Your Argument)

“I—I think I see wh—what happened!” Toko said, smiling cruelly. “M—Mukuro left her r—room at 9:00 PM, and went d—directly to the warehouse, wh—where she killed Sakura.”

“I think it is significant that Jack and Hifumi didn’t see her,” Celeste said, tapping a finger along one of her pigtails.

“That proves nothing,” Taka shook his head. “Ten minutes is more than enough time get to the warehouse from the dorms. Once in there, Mukuro could lie in wait for Sakura to arrive, and kill her.”

“…” Sayaka kept silent, watching Mukuro, never moving her eyes away.

“And since Jack and Hifumi didn’t go into the warehouse, they’d never that know Mukuro was hiding it, ready to strike!” Leon slammed a fist into his palm. “Ha! We’ve got this shit figured out!”

(Hiro’s Account > Mukuro could lie in wait for Sakura to arrive)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but there’s no backing down now!

“Taka,” she said. “Your version of events is impossible.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Hiro was in the cafeteria from 8:55-on. While there, he saw Celeste, you, Jack, and Hina. But do you know who didn’t see? Sakura. Which means that Sakura must have come back to the dorms before 8:55.”

Taka stroked his chin again.

“Well… I suppose that makes sense…”

“It does more than make sense, it destroys your entire argument!” Mukuro pointed right at him. “According to Hina, the two of them went to swim at 7:30, and Sakura left at 8:50.”

“That’s right!” Hina agreed.

“Most people would have taken more than five minutes to cover the distance between the pool and the dorms, but Sakura is… well, Sakura. If she arrived before Hiro showed up in the cafeteria, then she must have made it into a short jog to work out her muscles before she drank and went to bed. But what that means for sure is that she got to the warehouse before 8:55 PM, because Hiro would have seen her otherwise. I still insist that I stayed in my dorm all night, but if I did leave at 9:00 PM, then I sure as hell couldn’t ‘lie in wait’ for her to arrive.”

“So what?” Byakuya said.

“So, that means—”

“It just means that Taka got the exact order of events wrong. You could have entered the warehouse at 9 PM, or shortly afterward, and killed Sakura then.”

“I could have entered the warehouse after 9 PM, maybe,” Mukuro conceded. “But there wouldn’t have been anyone for me to kill. It doesn’t take five minutes to pick up your protein powder. I think it’s weird that Sakura would have stayed in the warehouse long enough for me to even be able to run into her. She should’ve been in and out of there in twenty seconds or less, if she was just picking up a bottle from a shelf she’s been to a million times before. And that means that if anyone attacked her, it should have been in the hallway outside of the warehouse.”

“There are a million reasons Sakura could’ve gotten held up in there!” Leon said.

“I agree,” Mukruo admitted. “But it would be impossible for me to have known that. From my perspective, as a would-be killer leaving at 9:00 PM, I would expect Sakura to be out of the warehouse in seconds.”

(Present Your Argument)

“I think I get it,” Hina said, obviously still confused. “Mukuro’s saying that if she left her room after Sakura got to the warehouse, she wouldn’t have expected Sakura to still be there, which means she couldn’t be the murderer?”

“Yes,” Celeste agreed. “Such a thing implies that either the murderer would need to wait for Sakura in the warehouse or perhaps that they followed her inside.”

“That’s bullshit!” Leon insisted. “I mean, sure, the timing is janky, but that’s a minor detail.”

“I dunno, man,” Hiro responded, scratching his head. “I’m pretty sure the timing is pretty important to murder investigations.”

“Okay, then consider this!” Leon pointed right at Mukuro. “Maybe she didn’t expect to find Sakura in there. It was a crime of opportunity!”

“Ugh, that makes sense…” Hifumi moaned, wiping away much of his sweat.

“That is a plausible explanation!” Taka nodded.

(Spear > It was a crime of opportunity)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Leon fell back as Mukuro’s voice pierced the din of argument.

“Man, again?” he groaned.

“Perhaps you should stop being wrong?” Celeste chided, smiling. “Then she will have no good reason to tell you to stop.”

Leon grumbled for a few seconds, then crossed his arms.

“What’s wrong with what I said?”

“You said it was a crime of opportunity. But the spear makes that impossible. It must have been made in advance, which means that the murder must have been planned. Toko didn’t see me going through the hallway holding a spear, right?”

“N—no…” admitted the other girl.

“Which means that you’re suggesting I made a spear in advance, stored it in the warehouse, and then stumbled upon Sakura in there and attacked her with it on a whim!”

“…” Leon frowned. For the first time, Mukuro’s argument seemed like it might get through to him.

“… Does the spear need to have been made in advance?” Taka asked. “We know Sakura was also struck by a blunt object. You could have fought her, knocked her unconscious with the object, and then crafted a spear right then.”

This was finally too much for Mukuro. Fear and pain boiled over into frustration, and her eyes flashed with so much hate and anger that Taka almost leapt back.

“Oh, come on!” she growled, her voice cracking several times in just three syllables. “That’s insane! Why would you make a spear if it implicates only yourself? Why would you make a spear at all? If Sakura is unconscious, then you can just finish her off with the heavy blunt object, or with the blade you used to carve the spear, or with a thousand other tools you can find in the warehouse, or with your bare hands by just strangling her!”

Mukuro was breathing hard. Hot, roiling blood pumped through every one of her veins.

It’s bad enough to be reasonably suspected of killing my friend – but being suspected beyond the point of reason is even worse!

At some point, her hands had turned into fists, and she was staring Taka down with enough force and anger that he’d been bullied into a rare silence. His face was almost as white from fear as Sayaka’s, and for many seconds, he just adjusted and readjusted his collar without quite making eye contact. Satisfied that he’d abandoned that line of thinking, Mukuro turned back to the others – only to realize that most of the class was watching her with wide eyes or bated breath.

“You, uh,” Leon tried to smile. “You really thought out all the ways to kill Sakura there, huh?”

Mukuro closed her eyes, breathed in, and tried to calm herself. It didn’t help much.

“I’m the Ultimate Soldier, remember?” she said icily, as if any of them would ever forget – or let her forget. “It all just sort of occurred to me while I was saying it. But all of it… is still true.”

“Toko.” Unlike Mukuro, this voice was still composed. Kyoko spoke up, and turned to the gloomier girl. “I have a question about what you saw that night.”

“O—okay…”

“Was Mukuro holding anything in the hallway as she walked?”

“Y—you mean like a s—spear? Or a—anything at all?”

“Anything at all.”

“N—no… I don’t think so…”

“You don’t think?” Byakuya pressed. “Or you don’t know?”

“Sh—she wasn’t holding a—anything! I’m s—sure of it!”

“Interesting.” Byakuya adjusted his glasses again. “Mukuro, I’m sure you can see the significance of this, right?”

“Uh…”

Mukuro tried to think.

Why is it important that the Mukuro Toko says she saw wasn’t holding anything…? Toko assumed Kyoko meant the spear, but…

“Oh!” Mukuro forgot her anger. All of that heat and frustration disappeared, and she smiled brightly. “You’re talking about the blunt object that crushed Sakura’s head.”

“I don’t get it…” Hiro said. “Why’s that important?”

“It’s the most important thing about the case we don’t understand yet!” Mukuro replied. “The spear was left in Sakura’s corpse, but the blunt object disappeared.”

“Couldn’t you just have used something already in the warehouse?” Leon asked.

“No! If you killed Sakura with an item from the warehouse, there’d be no reason to hide it, because it’s already supposed to be there. The fact that they left the spear and took the blunt object is extremely important, and it means that the weapon that hit Sakura in the head wasn’t from the warehouse.”

“I get it!” Hina smiled, excited. “You’re saying that the blunt object would make it obvious who killed Sakura, so it had to be removed. And if Toko didn’t see you with anything like that when you went to the warehouse, then the object must have been stored in the warehouse in advance.”

“I never went to the warehouse.” Mukuro repeated, a little upset.

“… Well, okay.” Hina nodded slowly. “I… believe you. Yeah. Yeah!” She made a fist, then grinned as wide as she could. “Listen up! Mukuro couldn’t have killed Sakura, because the only way she could have was if she decided to do it without planning to, but the mystery weapon being there in advance means the killer had to have had a plan!”

“Hold on!” Leon interrupted. “Wait a second! Could the blunt object just be Mukuro’s fist or foot? I know that a normal person couldn’t kill Sakura like that, but maybe she could?”

“Maybe she could,” Kyoko agreed. “But she didn’t. Fists leave very distinctive marks on the human body, as do shoes. If Sakura had been punched or kicked, I would have been able to tell. I’m confident that there was some kind of heavy blunt object used in the crime.”

“Wh—what?” Taka’s face fell. “B—but… Sakura died in a fight. If Mukuro really is innocent, and we already discounted the possibility of poison, then the only person the killer could be is…”

Everyone turned to Toko.

“A—ah!” She shook her head wildly. “N—no! I didn’t do it!”

“Ahhh,” Hifumi nodded, spraying more sweat everywhere. “Ingenious! Miss Jack is cleverer than I gave her credit for, if she so perfectly framed Miss Ikusaba…”

“N—no! Didn’t she explain that she o—only kills b—boys?”

“We’ve already established that the motive of escape might compel her to make an exception,” Celeste explained, absently. “I suppose you were asleep, and she was in control, when we said that, though…”

Toko desperately looked to Byakuya, obviously begging with her eyes for assistance, but he said nothing. Mukuro felt more than a twinge of sympathy for her.

“N—no!” she quivered. “I can p—prove she didn’t kill Sakura! Because J—Jack uses scissors, r—right? She wouldn’t e—even know how to u—use a spear or a big blunt w—weapon!”

“That’s a weak argument,” Taka shot back. “Anyone can use those things. The only question is if you can use them well enough to fight Sakura with.”

“B—but… like we said, the o—only person who c—could do that is M—Mukuro!”

Kyoko quietly tapped the back of her hand against her chin. After a moment, she gave in to an almost imperceptible smile.

“Actually,” she said, her voice betraying her own satisfaction. “I don’t know what the blunt object used to kill Sakura was, but… there just might be a way for anyone, no matter how unskilled, to have used it.” Silence fell over the classroom, save for Toko’s constant whimpering and Hifumi’s occasional groans. Soon enough, Kyoko had everyone’s attention. “I discovered another piece of evidence while investigating the scene of the murder. I wasn’t completely certain of its significance at first, but after this discussion, I think I might know how it factored into the murder.”

She pulled her right hand into her jacket. A moment later, she produced a bottle of Sakura’s protein powder. Part of it was covered in dried pink blood, but on its back, clearly visible, was a piece of shiny gray duct tape the size of two fingers. Between the tape and the bottle was a piece of thin black string, almost invisible except for its contrast with the bright colors of the bottle and the blood. The string was very long, somewhere between three and four feet, and tied to the far end from the bottle was a solid strip of wood.

“What is that?” Leon asked, perplexed.

“I found it tangled up in the shelf next to where Sakura died,” Kyoko explained. “The shelf that held the protein powder. When I found it, this piece, with the block of wood, was tangled up on the highest shelf, while the bottle itself was caught where the bottles of powder normally would be, if the shelf wasn’t knocked over.”

“What’s it mean?” Mukuro asked.

Kyoko moved the bottle itself between her hands, looking it over again. After a while, she set it down on the podium in front of her.

“Imagine the warehouse as Sakura must have seen it last night,” she said at last. “In its normal, cleaned-up state. Where would this bottle have been?”

“Well… it would be on the shelf with all of the other bottles, right? And if the string ran up the shelves to the highest shelf, then the block of wood would have been on the highest shelf, too.”

Kyoko gave another one of her almost-prideful smiles. Mukuro could tell that she was following the lavender-haired girl’s logic well enough.

“Now,” Kyoko said. “Imagine what happens if Sakura grabs this bottle.”

Mukuro tried to envision it in her mind: the 6’4” Sakura, standing at the shelf, wraps a hand around the bottle and pulls. That pulls the string along with it, which goes up to the top shelf, which is about eight feet high…

“I get it!” she shouted. “When Sakura takes that bottle off the middle shelf, it pulls the string so that the wood block on the top shelf moves.”

“Alright…” Hiro said uncertainly. “But… how does that kill Sakura? That tiny wood block can’t hurt anyone.”

“Not by itself,” Celeste agreed. “But the block could be keeping something else in place, like a support. Move the tiny harmless piece of wood, and the other object, which now lacks a support, falls off the shelf.”

“… and onto Sakura’s head!” Hina covered her lips. She was horrified. “S… Someone would really do that?”

Leon was obviously less certain of this line of reasoning.

“I can see how this is set up,” he admitted. “But there are a million bottles of protein powder in there. How could you be sure Sakura would pick up the one that’s trapped?”

“You could place it a bit away from the others, maybe?” Hiro offered. “Or maybe you could hide the others, so it’s the only one left around.”

“It might not actually matter,” Celeste tapped a finger on her chin. “If Sakura doesn’t take the bait… so what? The trap is simply unsprung. You lose nothing, and no one ever knows you tried to kill her.”

Hina was still covering her mouth, completely aghast. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

“That’s… unbelievable…”

“Urgh…” Hifumi nodded. “I understand that this is a possibility… But can we actually be certain that that’s what happened? Isn’t it possible that this is unrelated to the murder?”

“No,” Kyoko said, with absolute finality. “In fact, this is exactly what happened. Don’t you agree, Mukuro?”

Why does she always put me on the spot? Mukuro sighed. I kind of preferred it when she did this to Makoto, and I just had to watch… Oh well, if Kyoko is so sure, then there has to be evidence to back her up. And that evidence is probably…

“You’re talking about the bloodstains, aren’t you?” she said. “And you probably mean the one that was several feet away from her body.”

“That’s right.” Kyoko folded her arms in front of her chest. “That pool of blood was directly next to where the bottles of protein powder once stood, underneath the shelves after they’d been knocked over. The blunt object must have fallen off the top shelf and hit her over the head.”

“I’m not convinced about this,” Leon protested. “There are too many other explanations besides this weird trap.”

Leon and Hifumi aren’t buying it, Mukuro thought. But this is definitely how it happened… I’ve got to make them see reason.

(Present Your Argument)

“Couldn’t the killer have hidden somewhere, and then beaned Sakura over the head while she was fumbling around with the powder?” Leon asked.

“No,” Celeste said instantly. “You are forgetting about where Sakura’s head was smashed in. She was hit in the forehead. You can’t sneak up behind her and hit the forehead, and you can’t hit from the side because there’s not enough space between the shelves to swing sideways.”

“Yeah…” Hiro nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. So, she was either hit from in front or from above!”

“And if she was facing the shelf to get the powder,” Hina added. “Then… she was hit from above!”

“…” Sayaka’s eyes never moved from Mukuro.

“Th—that’s only if she was f—facing the shelf,” Toko jumped in. “B—but what if she m—moved to leave it, faced a—away from it, and then the k—killer ran up and hit her over the head too f—fast for her to r—react to? Then, when she’s on the floor, they stab her with the spear?”

“That does sound sensible…” Taka allowed. “I can definitely see that happening.”

“So, that means it’s either a fast-moving attacker or a trap set in advance…” Hifumi groaned. “I can see either as equally likely…”

(Blood in the Warehouse > Then, when she’s on the floor, they stab her with the spear)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Toko yelped, then hid behind her podium again. Mukuro leapt at the chance to strike down her argument.

“I think you’re wrong, Toko,” Mukuro said. “In fact… I can absolutely guarantee it. Because you forgot about the pools of blood in the warehouse.”

“U—ugh! I never s—saw any blood in the w—warehouse, you… camouflage b—bimbo!”

Camouflage bimbo? Mukuro pursed out her lips. Because… soldiers wear camouflage, or because I’m hiding being a bimbo?

“Uh, right…” she mumbled. “Anyway, what’s important is that there are two pools of blood in the warehouse. Pools of blood, not splatters. That means Sakura must have been knocked down onto the ground for long enough for a pool of blood to form underneath her. That would take at least several minutes.”

“W—well, okay, but I don’t s—see why that m—means she was knocked d—down by a trap…”

“Because if you knocked Sakura down with a weapon like that long enough for a pool of blood to form, you’d kill her right then and there… But there was a second pool of blood, several feet away.”

“S—so what?”

“So, Sakura was on the ground for at least several minutes, and the killer didn’t finish her off until she moved again.”

“O—okay, but… maybe they thought sh—she was already d—dead?”

“They might have,” Mukuro admitted. “But we established that the spear was made in advance. They always planned to stab her with it, probably to implicate me. If they already had her on the ground, then whether she was dead or alive, they’d stab her with the spear right then, and leave!”

Toko was stunned into silence for a moment, then pulled her thumb to her teeth and bit down.

“N—never mind…”

“This is getting very confusing,” Taka said. “Are you saying that Sakura was knocked to the ground by the trap, lay unconscious for several minutes, and then the killer… did what, exactly?

“Sakura was definitely on the ground for a while after the blunt object struck her, that’s a definite fact,” Mukuro said. “But because there are two pools of blood several feet from each other, we know that she must have gotten up and tried to move. And it’s there that the killer struck her again and killed her with the spear!”

Mukuro licked her lips. She was on the verge of something here, a way to prove her own innocence and the truth of how the murder took place. She just needed to explain why the killer took so long to finish Sakura off after she was wounded by the trap…

“Here’s what I think,” she said. “Sakura was alone in the warehouse when she triggered the trap. The killer arrived a few minutes later to stab her corpse with the spear, only to find that she was still alive.”

“W—wait!” Toko said. “Couldn’t S—Sakura have made it the few f—feet on her own, c—collapsed, and died in the s—second spot? And then b—been stabbed with the s—spear?”

“No,” Mukuro said. “Because Kyoko’s autopsy confirmed that it happened when she was still alive.”

There was silence for a few moments. And then Taka asked:

“But how does that explain the fight?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mukuro slammed her fist on the podium. “There was no fight! Not even Sakura could have fought on and destroyed that room with a gaping headwound. She was probably only barely conscious.”

“I agree,” Kyoko said flatly. “That headwound might have been fatal by itself. In fact, I doubt any of us could have survived it except Sakura.”

“Ugh…” Hifumi wiped his brow again. “I—I’m sorry, Miss Kirigiri, but I’m not completely convinced… This was Miss Ogami we’re talking about, after all…”

“That’s okay,” Kyoko smiled, then looked to Mukuro. “Because there’s another way to prove that Sakura didn’t destroy that room, isn’t there?”

Dammit! Again?

Kyoko was really pushing the limits of Mukuro’s reasoning. It was almost tiring, in a way. But there was one thing…

“The blood in the warehouse, huh?” she replied. Kyoko’s smile told her she was on the right track. “Yeah… I get it! One thing we thought was strange when we investigated the scene of the murder was how it wasn’t very bloody. There were just the two pools of blood, which we now know where the locations where Sakura was attacked, and that was it. Except for objects that rolled into the pools, there wasn’t any blood anywhere else.”

“S—so?” Toko stammered. “How’s th—that important?”

“Because if Sakura destroyed the warehouse during a fight after already being wounded, then there should be blood everywhere! She’d already lost a ton of blood in the puddle, so we know she was bleeding. Since there wasn’t any blood anywhere else except those two puddles, she must not have moved around much after being attacked! The only explanation is that the killer staged a fight in the warehouse by knocking everything to the floor and destroying the shelves after they’d already killed her.”

“But…” Hifumi swallowed. “Can we be absolutely certain that’s the case…?”

“Okay,” Mukuro grinned again. “Actually, there’s another piece of evidence that’ll prove the scene was staged after Sakura was already dead… And you can find it in Kyoko’s autopsy!”

“What’s in there?” Hiro asked.

“Do you remember how Sakura’s body was covered in bruises?”

“Oh, yeah… I guess from the fight, right?”

“We were meant to think so, but no. The bruises were made postmortem.”

“… what’s p—”

“It m—means she was a—already dead, you i—idiot…” Toko muttered. “It m—means someone b—beat up her body after sh—she was already dead, so it’d l—look like a fight…”

Mukuro placed her hands on her hips and beamed, proud of the deductions she’d made. No one was arguing anymore, no one had anything to say. Sakura didn’t die in a fight, which meant that the Ultimate Soldier wasn’t the prime suspect… and neither was Genocide Jack, so this also made up for shifting blame onto her.

I should apologize for that later…

Mukuro turned to Hifumi, expecting him to relent. Instead, he looked at her confused.

“Miss Ogami’s body was bruised?” he asked, perplexed.

“Oh, that’s right! You never saw it.” Mukuro nodded. “Her arms and legs had a bunch of dark bruises on them. Without Kyoko, I’d have never known they were made after death.”

Hifumi nodded a few times.

“I see… Then I retract my protest, Miss Ikusaba.” He groaned again, then leaned over his podium for support. “I accept your version of events.”

“Heheh,” Byakuya was smiling. Mukuro didn’t like the expression on his face. “Let’s make sure we all understand what you’re saying, because this will be important,” he said. “You claim that Sakura arrived in the warehouse at about 8:55, pulled the protein powder off the shelf, and triggered a trap. This caused the blunt object to fall off the shelf and hit her over the head. She fell to the ground, where a pool of blood formed underneath her. She got up and tried to walk, only for the killer to arrive. They planned to stab her body with the spear, and when they saw she was alive, actually finished her off, now that she was too weak and dizzy from the headwound to defend herself. This happened at 9:15. After that, they destroyed the warehouse to make it look like a fight took place, beat up her body to add several fake bruises, and left with the blunt object, planning to hide it somewhere.”

“… Yes, basically.” Mukuro agreed. Her voice was warbling. She could tell Byakuya knew something she didn’t.

“Let me ask you this,” he said. “How long do you think it would take to knock over all of those shelves and throw everything to the ground?”

“A while… maybe half an hour or more?”

“Wouldn’t they be worried that someone would enter the warehouse while they were busy?”

Mukuro frowned.

No, there’s a way to be sure they’ll be safe…

“Hiro,” she said. “Do you remember last night, when you went to go get some new tarot cards?”

“Oh yeah!” He laughed. “The door was stuck or blocked or something. That was 9:45.”

“And I’ll bet I know what the door was blocked with,” Mukuro declared. “It was… that chest of drawers! It was completely out of place from where furniture is usually stored in the warehouse. Using that, the killer could take as much time as they needed to arrange the scene.”

Byakuya laughed several times in a low, dark voice.

“I agree,” he said. “You see… If Sakura fell victim to a trap at 8:55, and the killer arrived sometime after that, and stayed at least half an hour to arrange a fake fight, then that means the killer wouldn’t have had to be at the warehouse when the trap was sprung. In other words… Your claim that you couldn’t kill Sakura, because you left at 9:00, is no longer an alibi!”

The blood rushed out of Mukuro’s face. She hadn’t considered that at all.

“Wh—what?! But… But I’m the one who was framed! Why would I use a spear and fake a fight happening? Wouldn’t I try to implicate someone else?”

“Maybe…” Byakuya allowed. “Unless you planned the entire time for us to suspect you, only for you to ‘reveal’ how the ‘true killer’ framed you.”

Mukuro looked at him like he was crazy. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. He had to be too smart to believe that, he had to be…

He must know something else, she thought. Something else I don’t know…

“I can only say that that’s not what happened,” she sputtered. “And… that I never left my room in the first place.”

“Hmph…” The corners of Byakuya’s lips pulled into a cruel smile. “Is that a fact? Actually, there’s something I think might be important, something we need to clear up – and that’s the murder weapon itself.”

“We already went over that!” Leon groaned. “We don’t know what it is.”

“But we do know something about it,” Byakuya shot back. “We know that when the wooden block was pulled, it fell from the shelf.”

“I think I understand,” Kyoko said. “You’re suggesting that the weapon was round.”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t be able to be sure that the weapon would fall off the shelf… unless you knew it would roll.”

“Something round and heavy…” Taka mulled. “And it would need to be so out of place in the warehouse that the killer would want it removed from the scene of the crime. Nothing like that immediately jumps to mind…”

“Wait!” Hina said. “Why would you remove the weapon you used in the trap, but not the bottle you used to trigger it?”

“That can wait,” Byakuya snapped. “We need to know what rolled onto Sakura’s head, first.”

Something round and heavy… Something that doesn’t belong in the warehouse…

“Mukuro,” Celeste’s airy voice pierced the din. “Didn’t we encounter something like that during our investigation?”

Did we? Something round…

Mukuro gasped.

“Actually, Celeste and I found something like that… Not round, exactly, but part of it is. And it’s definitely heavy.”

“What is it?” Kyoko asked.

“After we spoke to Genocide Jack in the pool area, she mentioned that she heard someone rooting around in the boy’s changing room at 1:00 AM. She thought it was Byakuya, but the person never actually entered the pool area, and eventually disappeared. We got Monokuma to open up the door for us, and went to check it out. We found that no one was using the room at all – it was extremely dusty, like no one had used any of the machines in months.”

“That fits,” Hina said. “The only boy here who does physical exercise is Leon, and he’s more interested in music.”

“But there was something very out of place. All of the dumbbells were arranged neatly on a rack, and were covered in dust… except one. One of the 20-pound dumbbells had its number upside-down, and it was completely clean. It also smelled like bleach.”

“Bleach…?” Kyoko repeated, extremely interested.

“I pulled it out of the rack and checked it out. The heads – that is the heavy weight parts on either end – were round, which means it could be rolled. One of them was loose, which is never supposed to happen. I think it must have been damaged. In the loose space between the head and the grip, I found this.” She reached into her track jacket’s pocket and pulled out the thin piece of thread. “I think someone cleaned the dumbbell with a piece of cloth dipped in bleach, but part of the fabric got stuck in the dumbbell.”

“Mukuro, could I please see that thread?” Kyoko asked.

Mukuro nodded and passed it over. Kyoko was clearly very intrigued by it.

“Anyway,” Mukuro finished. “That’s what we found. It’s possible that the dumbbell is what was used in the trap.”

“We can’t be sure about that!” Leon said.

“Actually, I think we can,” Celeste smiled. “Or have you forgotten already that the dumbbell was broken? That would be most easily explained by it being dropped from a height and onto Sakura’s thick skull.”

“Bleach…” Taka muttered. “There’s an endless supply of it in the warehouse, and there were many damaged or open bottles. We’d assumed that that happened during the fight, but it could have just been a clever use of resources by the killer.”

“That’s still not guaranteed!”

“No,” Kyoko said. “There’s more evidence.”

“What’s that?”

“This thread from the dumbbell,” Kyoko said. “Sakura was holding a piece of white cloth when she died.”

“… Is the thread from the same cloth?” Byakuya asked.

“Yes. They’re both from a larger piece of cloth… although, I’m not sure what, yet. This proves that the dumbbell is connected to the murder.”

“There is something else to consider,” Celeste said. “And that’s where we found it.”

“Why’s that important?” Mukuro asked.

“Did you forget? It was the boy’s changing room. The killer delivered the dumbbell back to its rightful place at 1:00 AM. Monokuma made an exception for us, but normally, only boys are allowed into there…”

“W—wait a second!” Toko stammered. “A—are we s—sure a girl c—couldn’t have gotten in th—there somehow? I know you c—can’t lend a handbook, but one c—could steal one from a boy, r—right?”

“Well,” Celeste traced a finger across her pigtail. “Are any of the boys going to say that their handbook was stolen?” No one spoke up. “Then—”

“What about Makoto’s handbook?” Hiro asked. “Could a girl have taken his?”

“No.” Byakuya said. “After that night in the bathhouse, when we decided that there would be no more murders, I decided to confiscate the e-Handbooks of dead students… just in case. I have Makoto’s, Chihiro’s, and Mondo’s in my dorm right now.”

“So, does that mean you could access the girl’s changing room with Chihiro’s handbook?” Celeste asked.

“Hm…” Byakuya turned away. “That’s actually more complicated a question than you might expect, but it has nothing to do with Sakura’s murder. What matters right now is this: I can guarantee that no girl in this building had any of the dead students’ e-Handbooks last night.”

Mukuro scratched at her cheek.

“Then, if that’s true, it means that the killer must’ve been a boy.”

“Oh. Oh!” Hina’s eyes lit up. Her lips pulled into the widest smile Mukuro had ever seen, and she laughed with both excitement and relief. “Then that means that Mukuro really is innocent! It means that we were all total jerks for ever doubting her! Oh my God, Mukuro! I’m so happy, I’m so—”

“Not quite.” Byakuya interrupted.

Their happy moment ruined, both girls turned to face the Ultimate Affluent Progeny. He, too, wore a smile, but his was cold and vicious. He didn’t bother facing Hina – all of his attention was on Mukuro alone, pressing down on her like an ocean’s worth of pressure.

“We now know that the killer had access to the boy’s locker room last night,” he said, still smiling. “And since Hiro and Taka discovered the body, we know they’re innocent.”

“That’s right…” Mukuro said. Her voice was quivering. She didn’t know what Byakuya was getting at, but she knew didn’t like it. “Which means… the only suspects left are Hifumi, Leon, and you.”

His smile grew wider and darker.

“No,” he said. “There is one girl who could access the boy’s changing room.”

“Who?”

He reached into his jacket, rummaged for a few seconds, and drew out two objects. The first was a framed photograph of a small girl with lavender hair being tossed into the air by her father. And the second—

Was the headmaster’s e-Handbook, taken straight from the drawer in Mukuro’s dorm that she’d hidden it in.

“Recognize this, Mukuro Ikusaba?”

Chapter Text

The world did not exist. All that was, all that Mukuro could see, was the e-Handbook that should not have been there. Time stopped, and her eyes locked on the thing, her mouth hanging open, her body utterly numb.

It was impossible for Byakuya to have that handbook.

At some point, her eyes dried out. They blinked. She swallowed, not knowing what she looked like, not knowing what expression was on her face. He simply couldn’t have that handbook. It had to be an illusion or a hallucination, or else some other deception of her senses like that. She blinked again and again, trying several times to dispel this impossible thing in front of her. But it never disappeared.

A low gurgling noise eked out of the back of her throat. She didn’t hear it.

“I take it from your reaction that you’ve seen this after all, Mukuro?” he asked, clearly amused.

Feeling slowly returned. The numbness in her ears gave way to the rush of blood, then the gasps and baited breaths of everyone around her. Her limbs grew solid again, and she became aware of that awful sound she was making.

Mukuro closed and opened her mouth several times, trying to form her lips into an O-shape to ask a single word. No sound came out, but Byakuya understood.

“You’re wondering how I got this?” he chided. “It’s simpler than you might think. I just asked our friendly neighborhood serial killer for help.”

Toko yelped out, but Mukuro’s thoughts slowly turned back to the investigation. Jack had smashed into her as she turned a corner. Mukuro had just assumed it was an accident, but the serial killer’s hand pushed against her chest…

“Master’s given me an important mission, and I just completed phase 1!”

“… What’s phase 2?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know! I’m sure he’ll tell you later. Byeeeeee!”

Absently, Mukuro’s hand pressed on her jacket’s pocket. It was empty. Byakuya saw this, smiled cruelly, and tossed her room key across the circle. She caught it without thinking.

“After I went over the warehouse and Sakura’s body, I wanted to check out your dorm,” he explained. “Monokuma wouldn’t let me in, but that’s just when Toko’s alter ego showed up. She was more than happy to help. To be honest, I didn’t really think I’d find anything interesting…” His face darkened, but his smile remained. “I was very happy to be wrong.”

A bead of sweat dribbled into Mukuro’s right eye. She blinked, then turned to check the rest of her classmates. Everyone stared back at her with the same shocked look on their faces – Hiro, Leon, Hifumi, Taka, and Toko were all terrified, and even Kyoko’s and Celeste’s normal calm demeanors were cracked. Even Sayaka’s eyes were incrementally wider.

Worst of all was Hina. She covered her mouth with her hands and looked completely betrayed, as if she’d just watched Mukuro thrust the spear into Sakura with her own eyes.

“Ah…” Mukuro’s voice weakly twisted out of her throat. She couldn’t think of anything to say. “Ah…”

“Speechless, are we?” Byakuya asked. He tossed the photograph of the younger Kyoko to the modern one, but kept the handbook for himself. Kyoko caught the picture frame in one hand, then examined it, not bothering to hide her shock. “Well, then let me start by listing what I found in your dorm: the headmaster’s e-Handbook, which gives universal access to the school’s doors, a photograph of Kyoko at around five years old, and a whiteboard with alphanumeric secret codes written all over its surface.”

If there was any blood left in Mukuro’s face, it rushed out completely. Again, the only sound she could produce was “Ah…”

Byakuya’s expression grew even more vicious.

“So, Mukuro… Are you admitting that what I said is true?”

don’t panic calm PANIC calm calm calm panic calm calm PANIC calm don’t panic

Mukuro swallowed, but her throat was still dry. She closed her eyes and tried to banish the others’ faces from her mind. Byakuya’s words. Those were what was important.

Lie to him, say that they’re not yours… No! He can call up Jack to corroborate his story… but Jack is crazy and will do anything he says, the others might believe she’s lying if I say so…

Hina’s face flashed in her mind. Those betrayed eyes, that shattered, pained expression…

“They were mine,” Mukuro admitted, almost too feebly to hear. “I found them in the school… and I wrote on the whiteboard myself.”

“Heh… I thought you might try to deny it,” Byakuya chuckled. “Looks like I was wrong twice today.”

“W—wait?!” Hiro’s face turned blue. “So Mukuro actually was the killer after all?!”

“No!” she cried. “No! I… I can explain everything. I did have the e-Handbook, but I didn’t hurt anyone… In fact, I’ve never even used it at all.”

Celeste traced her fingers over the surface of her podium several times, clearly trying to order her thoughts.

“I… I am actually more curious about the photograph than the handbook,” Her voice wavered several times as she said the words. “The handbook I would understand as a tool to commit murder, but what good is the picture…?”

“Forget that!” Leon shouted. “What the hell’s with this secret code on the whiteboard?”

“D—does that even m—make sense, to have a s—secret code?” Toko bit down hard on her thumb. “Y—you only write in c—code if someone else m—might see what you wrote, but if it w—was in her dorm, th—then what good is it?”

“Maybe she was worried someone would break in like Byakuya did!”

“Th—that doesn’t make sense, you i—idiot! Th—then you wouldn’t k—keep the h—handbook or photograph inside at all! They’re w—way more incriminating!”

While those two argued, Mukuro again looked over to Hina and Kyoko. The former’s expression hadn’t changed: utter betrayal. The latter had regained her senses, but kept staring right at the photograph.

Despair welled up in Mukuro’s chest, which grew tighter and tighter. It was all so hard to go on.

Everyone already thinks I killed Sakura…

“Ugh…” Hifumi wiped his face of sweat again. “We should just vote for Miss Ikusaba immediately, I think…”

“Oh, I didn’t bring this up for that,” Byakuya shook his head. “We should still continue the trial.”

“But, Mr. Togami, you said—”

“I said she could have gotten into the boy’s changing room, which is true. I didn’t say she was the murderer.”

“Then… is she?” Hina asked, choking down a horrible cough.

“Maybe.” Byakuya grinned. “Or maybe it’s Hifumi or Leon.”

“I can’t help but notice how you left yourself outta that list…” Hiro muttered.

Tears streamed down Mukuro’s cheeks.

“Please,” she squeaked. “I’ll tell you how I found the handbook—”

“Don’t bother,” Byakuya interrupted.

“But—”

“If you’re the killer, then you’ll lie about how you found this. If you’re not the killer, then it doesn’t have anything to do with the trial – but you still endangered everyone by keeping this a secret. Either way, unless you can prove what you have to say, which I doubt, we can’t trust your word until after the trial… if we can trust it even then.”

Mukuro sobbed again as the others all watched her, either terrified of her or devoid of sympathy. Byakuya’s logic clamped down on her like an iron grip, and she’d be just as successful at arguing against it.

“Okay…” she whispered, pitifully.

Kyoko, who’d remained silent during the whole exchange, finally looked up. Mukuro’s tears weren’t enough to stop her from noticing how the headmaster’s daughter kept running her thumb over the photograph.

I wonder if she’s conscious of that…

“We know the killer is Leon, Hifumi, Byakuya, or Mukuro,” the lavender-haired girl declared. “It would help if one of them had an alibi. Maybe we should start by having all four describe their whereabouts last night.”

If only I could prove it! Mukuro thought, wiping away more tears. If only I had some kind of evidence that I’d stayed in my room the whole night…

(Present Your Argument)

“I was in my room all night,” Byakuya said instantly. “Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t writing notes to Toko.”

“Mmmrghh…” Toko grumbled, face flushing red.

“Same,” Leon nodded, then messed up his hair. “I was practicing the guitar.”

“Aha!” Hiro thrust a finger almost into Leon’s face. “You’re lying! My room’s right next to yours, and I didn’t hear any music all night!”

“… Hiro,” Hina moaned. “The dorms are soundproof.”

“… oh, yeah.”

“Ugh…” Hifumi shook his head, spraying more swear across his podium. “As I already believe I stated, I went to get some medicine for my stomachache around 9:10, then returned after seeing Miss Jack… I slept the rest of the night, or at least I tried to.”

“And Mukuro said the same thing, that she was in her room all night,” Hina crossed her arms. “So… one of them must be lying.”

“I—it’s Mukuro!” Toko stammered. “I saw her l—last night, out wh—when Sakura was k—killed!”

“But I was also out at 9:00 PM,” Celeste cooed. “And I absolutely never saw any of our suspects, including Mukuro.”

“Actually, that’s a good point,” Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “Toko, did you ever see Celeste?”

“N—no,” she admitted. “Maybe C—Celeste is lying? I w—would’ve seen her s—stupid fancy outfit and hair if sh—she was there!”

“And now that Jack and Toko have both been cleared,” Leon slammed his fist onto his podium. “She must be telling the truth!”

“Yeah.” Hiro laughed. “Looking pretty bad for the Ultimate Soldier!”

(Taka’s Account > I w—would’ve seen her s—stupid fancy outfit and hair if sh—she was there!)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Toko jumped back with an “eep,” then scrambled back up to and behind her podium.

“Wh—what do you mean?”

“Toko,” Mukuro said. “Celeste didn’t have her ‘fancy outfit and hair’ that night.”

“Sh—she didn’t?”

“No,” Hiro agreed. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“No!” shouted half the students at once, in varying degrees of anger and disbelief.

“Oh. Well, she didn’t. Don’t blame me for not mentioning that! Celeste didn’t, either!”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” she said. “Taka said earlier that I was using all of the laundry machines; what else would I use them on if not my dresses?”

“Wait,” Hina pursed her lips. “If you were washing all of your dresses at the same time, then what did you wear while walking to the bathhouse?”

“I had Hifumi fetch me—” Celeste’s face, already pale, turned bone white. “Oh… I…” Her cheeked burned red with shame, and she turned away to hide her face. “I asked him to grab me a clean tracksuit from the warehouse while my clothes were in the laundry room…”

“What color was your tracksuit?” Mukuro demanded.

Celeste made some kind of low murmur, then covered her face.

“… Black…” she groaned. “I didn’t think…”

“Celeste,” Byakuya said. “Take off those fake pigtails right now, and turn around. You too, Mukuro.”

Celeste hesitated for a moment, clearly unhappy with the idea of parting with her elegant, gothic look, but eventually obeyed. After setting each of the clip-on hairpieces on either side of her podium, she pulled up her deceptively short real hair, then turned around. Mukuro studied her for a second before doing the same – but she already knew. From behind, Celeste’s short dark hair and pale skin were a near-match for Mukuro’s own short dark hair and pale skin.

“Huh…” Hiro grunted. “You know, I can tell them apart, but only ‘cause we’re right up near ‘em. I can see how you could mistake them if you were across a hallway, or if you weren’t paying close attention.”

“Amazingly, Hiro, you’re actually right,” Byakuya agreed. “Hmph…”

Mukuro and Celeste turned around at once. The other girl was still burning with shame.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid…” she muttered, nearly too low to hear.

“I’m sorry, Celeste,” Mukuro smiled sympathetically. “But now that we know that Celeste was the one who was out at the time, that means no one ever saw me the whole night! And that’s because I really did stay in my room the whole time!”

Kyoko nodded. She was still running a finger on the edge of the picture frame.

“I think it’s highly unlikely for Mukuro to be the killer,” she agreed. “It might not be completely impossible, but she would have to have created several layers of false evidence to incriminate herself and expected us to unravel all of them except the last.”

“That… would appear to be the case,” Byakuya agreed, though he sounded a little annoyed. “Unless someone actually saw Mukuro out of her room, the actual Mukuro,” he added, glaring at Celeste. “Then it would have been difficult to sneak from the dorms to the warehouse with Toko, Hifumi, Celeste, Jack, Taka, and Hiro all active.”

“So… that means she innocent?” Hina asked.

Sweat poured off Mukuro’s brow. No one said a word.

I’m free! She smiled as widely as she could, and looked at Hina, who smiled back at her. I’m finally f—

“Wait!”

Mukuro’s heart stopped – not at the word, but at the voice.

“I… saw her,” Sayaka forced out.

The idol’s voice was a weak, warbling mumble, almost too low to hear, as if it hadn’t been used in months. Mukuro wasn’t the only one surprised when she spoke – half the students looked around the circle without thinking, having seemingly forgotten what she sounded like.

Sayaka’s skin was still inhumanly pale, and her eyes were still narrow pinpricks. She, too, was sweating. She never stopped watching Mukuro, but she raised her hand to her kitten hairclip, and starting playing with it without thinking. When she spoke, her lips barely moved.

“I saw her,” she repeated. The ‘her’ sounded like it was coming from the back of the throat, as if she was choking it out. It must have taken an incredible effort to manage even these short sentences. “Last night.”

Mukuro stared back, incredulous.

“Woah!” Hiro leaned over his podium. “She can talk again?”

“… How did you see her last night?” Byakuya demanded. Mukuro didn’t turn to look at him, but his voice made it clear he had doubts. “There were plenty of people up, and no one saw you.”

“… it was late.” Sayaka said, after a while. “It was… 1:30 AM…”

Mukuro couldn’t even begin to guess what her own face looked like.

“She was… coming back from the… school.”

Each sentence was slow and weak, but Sayaka’s words were definitely methodical. She was thinking about each and every one before she said it.

“That’s… not true!” Mukuro shouted. “That’s a lie!”

“Why were you up at that time?” Kyoko asked. Like Byakuya, she clearly had reservations.

“…”

Sayaka turned very slightly to the side. Her eyes darted to Kyoko for a moment, then back to Mukuro. Her white skin was dripping with sweat, which bounced off her cheeks and chin as she began to shake.

“… I wanted water.” she said. The words sounded like they came from faraway, or like she was speaking in a dream. “I went to the cafeteria, but I forgot it was closed at night.”

“Why didn’t you go to the warehouse?” the lavender-hair girl pressed. “There’s water there, too.”

“I… did. But before I got there… I saw Mukuro coming back. I hid and watched her… I was curious why she was up.”

“That’s… that’s just a lie!” Mukuro hissed. “It’s just not true!”

Sayaka pulled off her hairclip, then brought it to her lips. Her mouth was invisible behind it, but Mukuro could just barely detect her whispering something.

“Maybe…” the idol said, loud enough to hear. “Maybe Mukuro hid in the warehouse early and waited for Sakura… That’s why no one saw her at 9… Then she waited until early morning, and returned the dumbbell then…”

“No! Stop lying to everyone!”

“Sayaka,” Kyoko said, more calmly. “You do know that if Mukuro isn’t the killer, and we vote for her, then everyone will die, including you?”

“Yes…” she breathed. “But it’s all true.”

Mukuro couldn’t tear herself away from those pinprick eyes, even as the others around her began to talk amongst themselves. Sayaka was lying! She was lying, and it was so perfectly obvious that she was. Despair welled up in Mukuro’s chest again, and she realized, to her shock, that it was the same despair in Sayaka’s…

“I think we should consider the possibility that she’s lying,” Celeste offered. “Though I cannot guess why.”

“I’m not…” the blue-haired girl said into her hairclip, her voice a high-pitched whisper.

“Hmph!” Celeste shook her head. “I cannot disprove your claim that Mukuro was up that late. But what I can say is that I don’t think she could be responsible for my wearing the black tracksuit.” She turned to Hifumi, and her normally composed features twisted with rage. “Hifumi! You are the one who gave me that black tracksuit! That was an important part of framing Mukuro for the crime; I don’t see how the killer can be anyone but you!”

“N—no!” he stammered. “Miss Ludenberg, please, don’t jump to conclusions! I didn’t—well, I did get the tracksuit, but I had no choice!”

“What do you mean, ‘you had no choice?’” Kyoko asked.

“I went to the warehouse, as Miss Ludenberg requested, but the only color of tracksuit there was black. I thought it was odd at the time, but I didn’t think… Perhaps the real killer removed all of the other colors of tracksuits in advance, to trick me?”

Mukuro subtly glanced at each other student in turn. Their eyes all told the same story: that Hifumi’s explanation was weak.

“Kyoko,” Byakuya asked. “Were there other colors of tracksuits in the warehouse when you looked?”

“Yes.” came the instant response.

“Just yes?”

“Yes.” Kyoko said again. “I wasn’t searching specifically for tracksuits, but I know I saw some. I’m confident I would remember if there were only black ones there.”

“I thought so. Hifumi!” Byakuya tapped a finger on his glasses. “Care to explain that?”

The Ultimate Fanfic Creator’s face was red – not with Celeste’s shame, but instead with genuine illness. The others’ suspicion and questions were clearly not doing him any favors.

Please be guilty, Mukuro prayed. I don’t want someone innocent to be put through this…

As soon as she thought those words, Mukuro flushed with more self-loathing. Hifumi was still her friend, sort of, and to wish him to be the killer was the same as wishing he was dead by one of Monokuma’s cruel tortures…

“Ugh… Do I need to do this while my stomach is so upset…?” he begged. “Can’t we… pause the trial?”

“Nope!” Monokuma trilled.

Hifumi wiped his forehead again.

“F—fine…” he groaned. “Mister Togami, can I point something out, please?”

“Go ahead, Hifumi.”

“There were many, many tracksuits in the warehouse… enough that you’d need more than one trip to remove them all, if you took them out by hand. You’d run the risk of someone seeing you with them, and they might ask questions. But if you removed them from where they’re normally stored, and put them somewhere else in the same room, you could throw them around later while destroying the warehouse.”

Hifumi stood up as straight as he could, then pushed his glasses back over his greasy, sweaty nose.

“So… let me tell you what really happened!”

(Present Your Argument)

“The true killer wanted to frame Miss Ikusaba,” Hifumi began. “Or perhaps she’s the killer, and she wanted to create a multilayered mystery around herself, to make the murder too complicated to solve.”

“She did it…” Sayaka said, almost absently.

“But whether it was Miss Ikusaba, Mister Kuwata, or Mister Togami, it all started when Miss Ludenberg’s clothes somehow became dirty,” he continued.

“The killer removed all of the non-black tracksuits from their normal storage space and stuffed them somewhere else!” He roared the words with total confidence, then doubled over in pain. “… Somewhere I didn’t see them. This ensured that I’d have to give Miss Ludenberg a tracksuit that matched Miss Ikusaba’s.”

“I saw her near the warehouse…” Sayaka mouthed, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

“Later,” he groaned. “When they destroyed the warehouse to make it look like a fight took place, they threw all of the tracksuits everywhere so no one would think to ask questions!”

“And that… is the truth of how the killer used Miss Ludenberg to commit the perfect murder!”

“Mukuro used her…” Sayaka agreed, her face completely blank.

(Strangely Broken Shelf > It all started when Miss Ludenberg’s clothes somehow became dirty)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

Hifumi swallowed hard. So did Mukuro.

It’s probably Hifumi… But from the others’ perspective, it was probably me, earlier, too. He deserves the same chance to prove he’s innocent that I had. I… I want to believe in him!

“Wh—what do you mean, Miss Ikusaba?”

Mukuro closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hifumi, you weren’t exactly wrong when you said this,” she said. “But you were very vague about how Celeste’s clothes got dirty.”

“I wasn’t hiding anything, Miss Ikusaba!” Hifumi protested. “I just didn’t know the details.”

“Fine, then let’s ask the woman herself about it. Celeste, how did your clothes get dirty?”

Unconsciously, Celeste moved a finger to trace down one of her ponytails – only to remember that it was by her feet. She huffed in annoyance, then faced Mukuro.

“I believe I see where you’re going with this,” the gothic girl nodded. “Very well, then. The upper shelf in my closet broke yesterday, and a mountain of dust fell all over my dresses. Ah! When Mukuro and I investigated it, she noticed that the crack was very odd. It should have been jagged, yes? But instead, it looked perfectly straight and smooth.”

“It was cut,” Mukuro said. “Probably by the same tool used to cut that spear, now that I think about it.”

“Someone snuck into Celeste’s room to cut the shelf?” Byakuya thought on this for a moment. “Setting aside the question of how they got past the door in the first place, just thinking about it, that couldn’t possibly produce enough sawdust to get all of her dresses unusably dirty.”

“That’s because the dust that got the clothes dirty wasn’t from the shelf at all,” Mukuro replied. “I didn’t understand the significance of this earlier, but when I checked Celeste’s room, there were actually two types of dust. One was light brown and came from the shelf, and the other…” Mukuro dipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out some of the dark brown dust she’d taken during the investigation. “This was the dust actually on the clothes. It’s much darker and thicker.”

“Give me that!” Byakuya snapped. Mukuro obeyed, and he sniffed it. His eyes narrowed. “Hm… Aoi, take this.”

“What? Um… okay…”

Hina obediently took the dark brown dust. As soon as it was in her hands, she pursed her lips.

“This stuff looks familiar…” she muttered.

She raised the dust to her face, examining it thoroughly, and then—

She licked it.

“Hey!” she growled. “This isn’t dust, this is Sakura’s protein powder!”

“I thought so,” Byakuya chuckled. “The killer knew Celeste couldn’t tell the difference. It should have been obvious from the start – even Mukuro saw through it instantly. It doesn’t look, feel, or even smell the same as dust. I suppose that as long as you’re not dealing with gambling or clothes, Celeste is useless.”

The mentioned girl fumed, but couldn’t dispute him. Mukuro had also criticized her lack of basic knowledge during the investigation, and now it had come back up during the trial in the most embarrassing of ways. After a while, the Ultimate Gambler, for all her pride and dignity, just huffed and looked away.

“It makes sense that the killer would know to use the protein powder to fool Celeste,” Leon agreed. “‘cause they knew about the powder to set the trap for Sakura.”

“Well, that’s interesting and all,” Hiro nodded. “But it doesn’t really tell us which one of you actually did it.”

“Not by itself,” Celeste agreed, still not looking to the circle. “But there is something else important, something that links the broken shelf to the killer.”

“There is?” Hiro was surprised.

“She’s talking about how the killer got into the room in the first place,” Mukuro jumped in. “I know what you’re thinking of, Celeste. It’s this.”

She drew the tiny piece of duct tape from her pocket.

“We found this on the lock to Celeste’s door, just over the bolt that connects into the door frame. While it was in place, the door can’t lock – but it still sounds like it does. I think Celeste’s been sleeping with her door unlocked for a while now.”

Byakuya laughed again, as cruelly as he ever had. Celeste’s pale face turned red.

“I see what you’re getting at,” Taka rested his chin on a closed fist. “The killer sabotaged Celeste’s door at some point, then damaged her shelf in a complicated gambit to incriminate you. I suppose that’s plausible, but doesn’t it raise an obvious question?”

“Wh—what’s that?” Toko asked.

“If you could enter her room whenever you want, wouldn’t you just kill her? No offense, Celeste, but you’re obviously easier prey than Sakura.”

“None taken,” she cooed. “And I have no explanation for your question…”

“Urgh…” Hifumi pressed himself against his podium again, trying to stand. “Perhaps this is unrelated? As in, maybe the tape on Miss Ludenberg’s door was placed by someone else entirely, in a separate plan to kill her instead of Miss Ogami? It could even have been placed there this morning, instead of earlier.”

“Mukuro,” Kyoko said. “May I see that piece of duct tape?”

Mukuro handed it over, and the other girl smoothed it out and pressed it just underneath the piece of duct tape on the bottle of protein powder. The edges of each piece matched.

“Do you know what this means?”

“Yes,” Mukuro said, instantly. “The pieces of duct tape came from the same roll, which means the same person placed them. And you can’t have placed the tape on Celeste’s door today, because there’d be no reason to plan a murder of her if you’d already killed Sakura last night! It must have been put there before the murder took place!”

“Then… why kill Sakura?” Taka repeated, utterly perplexed.

“Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment thing?” Hiro asked. “Like, they didn’t plan—”

“Hiro!” Hina groaned. “We already know that there was a trap and spear made in advance!”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Well, there are a few reasons…” Byakuya offered. “If you wanted to frame Mukuro specifically, if you wanted to avoid killing Celeste with your own hands, or if you were afraid of Sakura in the investigation or trial… But actually, I don’t think the exact motive for not killing Celeste matters.”

“What does matter, then?” Taka asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? Tell them, Mukuro.”

Man, why don’t you tell them?

“You mean who had access to sabotage Celeste’s door in the first place, right?”

“Exactly. Celeste! Have you ever left your door unlocked without being inside?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, which of Hifumi, Leon, Mukuro, and myself was ever in your room before today?”

Even before Celeste could say “Only Hifumi,” all eyes turned to him. His face was more sweat than flesh.

“What?” he groaned.

“Hifumi,” Mukuro said, her willingness to believe in his innocence evaporating by the second. “Did you put the tape on Celeste’s door?”

He took a long while before answering.

“No!” he said at last.

“I want to believe you, but I don’t see how anyone else could have.”

“It’s easy! I did help Miss Ludenberg move several items into her dorm room on multiple occasions, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean I put the tape there. While running back and forth between her room and the warehouse, I frequently left the door open. It’s entirely possible that a passerby saw an opportunity to place that piece of tape.”

Celeste impatiently tapped a finger on her podium.

“I hate to admit it, but what he says is true. He did leave the door open. I was always in my room when, but sometimes I went to the lavatory, or else wasn’t facing the hallway. It… is possible that someone else did this.”

No, Mukuro knew. Leon didn’t hesitate to attack Sayaka that night. If he was going to kill, he would have just snuck into Celeste’s room and slit her throat. Byakuya, too. The only person with a connection to Celeste, the only one of us four who could be the killer and who might not want to attack her in particular is…

Hifumi wiped his brow again. He was trembling horribly. His eyes glanced up to Mukuro, who stared back at him. For some reason, she felt sympathy. It must not have shown on her face, though, because he looked away in fear.

“Well, then,” Kyoko said, still playing with the photograph. “If that’s the case, we’re still no closer to narrowing down the list of suspects. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

(Present Your Argument)

“So, we know it’s Hifumi, Leon, Byakuya, or Mukuro,” Hiro started. “But none of ‘em have alibis.”

“It’s Mukuro…” Sayaka whispered into the hairclip.

“Rrgh… Of th—those, only Hifumi and M—Mukuro were s—seen up around the time of the c—crime… It’s p—probably one of th—them.”

“Hifumi said he returned to his room after seeing Genocide Jack,” Hina pursed her lips. “But we don’t really know for sure that he’s telling the truth.”

“But if Miss Maizono’s correct, and Miss Ikusaba came back from the school at 1:30, then she’s the killer for sure!” Hifumi shouted.

“I don’t know if we should take Sayaka’s claim seriously,” Celeste shook her head. “Her mind is clearly elsewhere…”

“Right here…” came an airy response.

“Maybe there’s something we overlooked in how Sakura died?” Leon scratched at the scar on his cheek. “Hm… She got hit in the head by the trap, got up and tried to walk, and then stabbed by the spear before anything else could happen.”

“Poor Sakura,” Hina wiped away a few tears. “The killer got her before she could do anything…”

“D—dammit!” Toko grabbed her temples and trashed about. “W—we’ve already g—gone over all the e—evidence, and found n—nothing new!”

(Sakura’s Piece of Cloth > The killer got her before she could do anything…)

(Break)

“That’s not right!”

The conversation drew quiet as Mukuro addressed her friend.

“Hina,” she said. “That’s not quite right. Sakura did do one thing before she died.”

“What’s that?”

“She had a piece of white cloth in her hand, remember?”

“Oh yeah…” Hina crossed her arms and nodded, but she still didn’t look very certain. “What’s it from?”

“I’m not sure, but let’s think about it for a second. Its edges are all ripped up, so Sakura obviously tore it off from something. It’s also too smooth and thin to be from a towel.”

“Well, we know that Sakura got up after being konked in the head, right?” Hiro said. “So, maybe before she got stabbed by the spear, she ripped it off as her final action in life!”

“That doesn’t seem very likely,” Celeste shook her head. “If you’re being attacked by someone with a spear, you wouldn’t waste time ripping a piece of cloth.”

“Maybe she was already holding the cloth before she was hit by the trap?” Leon asked.

“I doubt it,” Mukuro answered. “We know that she triggered the trap by lifting up the protein powder bottle. Sakura was righthanded, right? And she was holding this cloth in her right hand. Why would she grab the bottle while holding a ripped piece of cloth in the same hand?”

“More than that,” Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “We know the killer used that piece of cloth, or the larger piece it was part of, to clean the dumbbell. I can’t imagine they would rip a random piece of cloth out of Sakura’s hand to clean it, when the warehouse is already full of towels and washcloths they could have used.”

“Hm… An ingenious dilemma…” Hifumi coughed again, then pushed a hand onto his stomach for support. “Er, perhaps Miss Ogami got up, was delirious from being hit on the head, and accidentally grabbed a random tablecloth or piece of clothing laying around the warehouse?”

“No,” Byakuya said, flatly. “Sakura couldn’t have grabbed anything like that.”

“Ah, why not, Mister Togami?”

“Tch! Tell them, Mukuro.”

She sighed.

I guess this does fit for his talent…

“I think you mean the bloodstains, right?” she asked. “The trap that got Sakura was in the middle of the warehouse, and we know she only moved five or six feet afterwards. All of the clothing is stored on the left side from the entrance. Before the killer destroyed everything, there wouldn’t have been any clothing or tablecloths or anything in the center for her to grab.”

“Maybe it was her own clothes?” Hiro suggested. “Like, just before she died, she ripped off a piece of her shirt!”

“No,” Mukuro sighed. As kindly as she could, she said: “That can’t have happened, Hiro. Sakura’s shirt was damaged, but it wasn’t ripped.”

Not to mention how that doesn’t make any sense…

“And yet,” Celeste mused. “If she wasn’t holding anything when she was hit by the dumbbell, except the bottle, then she must have found a source of cloth somewhere nearby…”

“Yes,” Byakuya grinned, contempt shining through. “That’s actually very simple.”

“It is?” she blinked.

“Yes,” Kyoko agreed. “That’s actually the simplest answer of all. Mukuro, can you explain it?”

Don’t I get enough of this from Byakuya?

She sighed again, for the second time in under a minute, then frowned and sank into contemplation.

If there’s no cloth in that part of the warehouse, and Sakura didn’t bring any with her, then there’s only one way it could have gotten over there… It’s the killer. Sakura ripped it off from the killer’s clothing!

Mukuro looked up to Kyoko, ready to answer, when her eyes passed over a certain white-faced idol again. There was an opportunity here.

I’m sorry to manipulate you like this, Sayaka, she thought. But you shouldn’t have lied, and it’s for the good of everyone.

“Before I answer that, I need to know something,” she said. “Sayaka… When you saw me at 1:30 this morning, what was I wearing?”

Sayaka’s mouth was invisible behind the hairclip, but Mukuro knew her lips thinned at the question. She was hesitating. She sensed this was a trap question, but couldn’t tell how.

“What you’re wearing now…” came the low, cautious reply.

“I thought so. Then, Kyoko, Byakuya! I think you were suggesting that Sakura must have ripped the cloth off from the killer’s clothing.”

“That’s right,” Byakuya said. “I can see you smiling over there, Mukuro. Care to explain why?”

“That’s simple. Sakura grabbed a piece of white cloth from the killer. But my clothes… aren’t white. Which means that, once and for all, for real this time, I can’t be the killer.”

Actually, my underwear’s white, but I’ll leave that part out.

“No!” Sayaka’s eyes flashed red, and she leaned over her podium, sweating and shaking. “I… misremembered. You had a white shirt!”

“… Give it up, Sayaka.” Hina said, as gently as she could.

Still shivering with anger and despair, the idol turned from one classmate to another, boring into their eyes, begging with her own for her lie to be believed… but no one accepted it anymore.

Mukuro’s good mood disappeared. She lifted a hand to cover mouth, and watched frustration and panic engulf the girl who’d once been her friend.

Do you really hate me that much?

“You…” Sayaka closed her eyes, then pushed her chin into her chest. Her hair was fraying apart. “It’s all your fault!” she screeched. “You murderer! You should have died instead of him!”

Mukuro turned her back to the circle, unable to face her. It hurt to hear those words. That they were spoken out of hate was bad enough, but the true pain came from one simple fact:

She agreed.

Sayaka started whispering something incoherent again, then fell quiet. She kept watching Mukuro, her eyes blazing with hate and fury.

“Wow,” Leon thoughtlessly interrupted the scene. “What a crazy bi—”

“Enough,” Byakuya said, unimpressed and unsympathetic. “Leon, Hifumi, and I all wear white. One of us is the killer.”

“Wait,” Hina said. “Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second! I get that Sakura must’ve grabbed the cloth off the killer’s clothing, but why did she do that? She was the Ultimate Martial Artist – shouldn’t she have tried to fight back instead of just grabbing a piece of a shirt or something?”

“She did,” Kyoko answered. “And her fighting back is what made this case solvable. She used her last moments to save all of our lives. Sakura was strong, but she was only human. She must have been barely conscious after being hit in the head by a dumbbell. I think her last action was to throw a punch, and as she pulled her hand back, she grabbed the cloth either by accident or because she realized it would help us.”

“Er… Miss Kirigiri,” Hifumi protested. “I don’t believe you can know that for certain.”

“No,” she admitted. “We won’t ever know exactly what Sakura was thinking at that moment. But it doesn’t matter. We know for sure that her last action was to attack her killer and grab part of his clothing. Unfortunately, all of the potential suspects, Byakuya, Leon, and you, wear white.”

Mukuro had listened to the conversation in silence. She’d already known who the killer was – in truth, she’d known for a while. But now, at last, she could prove it.

The weight of the world pressed on her shoulders. It was hard to turn around to face the others, hard to even breathe. To voice what she was thinking was the same as condemning one of her friends to death. Was it really any better to kill someone with evidence, instead of snapping his neck with her bare hands?

Countless people killed as a soldier, countless people killed as an Ultimate Despair…

That namesake emotion welled up inside her chest and pushed everything else aside. She didn’t even have the energy left to cry. At least last time, Makoto had wanted her to do this, had pushed her to it and forgiven her. This time, she’d be killing someone who wanted to live.

What’s one more person killed by Mukuro Ikusaba?

“Hifumi,” she said, utterly devoid of feeling. “You’re the killer.”

“Whaaaat? Ah, Miss Ikusaba, you are quite mistaken!”

“This morning, during the investigation, Hiro, Celeste, and I went to go talk to you in your dorm.”

“That is correct.” Celeste agreed.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Hiro said.

Mukuro’s eyes glazed over. She couldn’t bear to look at Hifumi anymore.

“You didn’t come out of your room,” she continued. “But I noticed something odd. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but… Your clothes.”

“M—my clothes?”

She could barely hear his trembling voice. He might have been a thousand miles away. It would have been easier if he was.

“You were wearing grimy, sweaty pants from the night before. In fact, you’re still wearing them.” She didn’t wait to see if everyone else looked down to check. “But the big white undershirt you always wear, that one was brand new. It was only barely stained, and only just then by your saliva, because you were feeling so ill…”

Somehow, even though she was looking into space, Mukuro sensed his noiseless panic.

“I know you slept in your pants from last night, and I know you pulled on a clean shirt just before opening your door. I can’t think of any reason why you’d remove your dirty shirt and not your pants, except that you were worried we’d ask why it was ripped.”

“I… Obviously, I started undressing last night to go to bed, but got tired halfway through!”

“No, you didn’t, Hifumi.”

Nothing happened for a long time. Eventually, someone, probably Byakuya, demanded Hifumi explain. A quavering, high-pitched voice started shouting a thousand words a minute, but Mukuro couldn’t hear them.

“Mukuro!”

Her eyes slowly moved to the side. Kyoko was watching her. One hand stretched out on her podium, and the other was still cradling the photograph.

“Mukuro,” she said. “Didn’t you promise Sakura that you’d avenge her death?”

The world blurred. Tears ran down Mukuro’s cheeks.

I wish I hadn’t said that.

She turned to Hifumi, equal parts despondent and resigned. He stood as straight as he could, and the lights from the ceiling shone across his glasses. His eyes were invisible behind them, but his stance and his scowl promised that he wouldn’t go down without a fight. Determination and hope radiated off of him – two things that felt like acid to Mukuro.

Here he was: the boy who’d framed her, killed her friend, betrayed their trust, and who was ready to sacrifice everyone else so that he could escape… and still, Mukuro felt only loathing for herself, for daring to kill him by trial.

There was no way around it.

“It appears you weren’t listening, Miss Ikusaba,” he said, and he pushed up his glasses. His voice was steadier and more determined than it had been the whole trial. “If you’re going to make false accusations and endanger everyone else’s lives by them, then it appears that I have no choice except to dispel your misconceptions!”

(Bullet Time Battle)

“You are quite mistaken!”

“You’re made an error!”

“Stop picking on me!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeee!”

“Argh… my stomach…”

“You can prove nothing!”

“Your argument is just a bad fanfic! I won’t leave kudos!”

“There’s nothing true about your claims!”

“Ughhhhh… I feel like I’m going to throw up…”

“Mister Kuwata also wears white!”

“This is just like one of my Japanese animes…”

“Why are you so certain it’s me?”

“I admit to nothing, you have nothing!”

“Surely you agree that Mister Togami is also suspicious?”

“Blergh… I can’t… Oh, argh…”

“Your argument’s weaker than a level 1 RPG character!”

(Killshot)

“You can’t prove that Miss Ogami attacked me!”

(Hifumi’s Stomach > You can’t prove that Miss Ogami attacked me!)

(Break)

“I’m sorry, but I can!”

Hifumi fell silent, terrified at the force with which Mukuro shouted the words. But for her part, she felt nothing – certainly not triumph, but not even the self-hate that had filled her a moment before. Something new unfolded within her: a ravenous void that consumed everything except the image of the sick, petrified boy she was about to condemn to death and the gentle, hopeful boy she’d killed days before in this same courtroom. And those boys were all that held back the pounding torrent of despair that would surely consume Mukuro Ikusaba as soon as this was all over. That emotion lapped over them, pressed against them, threatened to overwhelm them and obliterate her.

It’ll never be over, she despaired.

“Hifumi,” she breathed. Her vision went dark; she only pretended to look at him. “You don’t have food poisoning.”

“Wh—of course I do!”

“No,” she said. “Sakura punched you in the gut last night, didn’t she? Just before you stabbed her with the spear. And that one punch, thrown by a delirious, half-dead woman, nearly killed you just by itself.”

Never in the history of the world had any room been so silent. Mukuro could hear the beads of sweat dribble off Hifumi’s forehead and splash onto the floor.

“That explains why you did such a strange job of trashing the warehouse, and why you didn’t cover up all the evidence properly. You probably planned to do a better job, but could barely stand up afterward. In fact, I bet you didn’t plan to return the dumbbell at 1:30. You meant to do it before midnight, and lugging it all that way took much longer once you were falling over yourself.”

“N—no…”

Mukuro just felt cold.

“Lift up your shirt,” she said, still blind, still utterly exhausted. “And let us see the bruise where Sakura punched you.”

Her vision was still dark, but she didn’t need to see to know that he wouldn’t obey.

“Okay, Hifumi,” she sighed. The same despair that took her after Makoto’s death was engulfing her again, eroding the edges of her psyche. It was hard to stand, hard to even breathe. “I’ll explain what happened that night. I hope you can forgive me.”

(Closing Argument)

“This is what happened.”

“In order to maintain her status as the Ultimate Martial Artist, Sakura Ogami needed to be matchlessly strong in body, mind, and spirit. She meditated and forged strong connections with her friends, but her body still needed fuel.”

“Specifically, she needed protein powder from the warehouse in the dorms.”

“Maybe she thought that after the time in the bathhouse, none of us could betray the others, or maybe she was too honorable and noble to conceive of really killing another student at all, but either way, she made no secret of how she took the powder from the warehouse at regular times every day.”

“One student decided to take advantage of that. I hope it wasn’t really just because they wanted to escape.”

“First, they helped Celeste move various Victorian-themed items to her dorm room from the warehouse. They did this several times, and though we’ll never know when precisely they decided to sabotage the lock with a piece of duct tape, we do know that they completely abused her trust. This let them enter her room at will.”

“This meant that they had the ability to kill her whenever they wanted – but either because they wouldn’t kill Celeste in particular, or because they wanted to kill Sakura specifically, they spared her.”