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“We’ve been here for a while already,” Kiibo said, “Perhaps it would be best for you to go to bed. I can keep searching while you rest.”
“No,” Maki said, “I can stay up.”
“Are you sure? Sleep is integral for humans so that they can-”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, “I’ve stayed up much longer than this before.”
“You have? When?”
Maki paused for a moment before sighing, “…Can’t remember.”
“Ah. Another lost memory? Well, I’m sure you’ll get them back eventually! Who knows, maybe the key to unlocking them is right here in this room!”
Maki certainly hoped so. She was getting tired of not knowing where half her knowledge came from. Why she could sprint across a room in seconds. Why she knew which wounds were fatal and which weren't. Why she blocked punches without even a thought. So much she knew how to do, so much knowledge she had, without a trace of their origin. Not even a real talent to guide her. Just a stupid Monopad that labeled her as the Ultimate Survivor, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.
She was tired of flying blind. She wanted answers.
“Maybe there is some clue we missed for the vault?” Kiibo hypothesized, “Should we look around the building again?”
“We’re not gonna find anything new. Don’t bother.”
The two of them were currently sitting in Maki’s lab. Blood red walls. Creepy round table with sixteen chairs, it looked like something out of a dark fairytale. Where the monsters were more vicious and the endings weren’t happy. The stupid dial vault took up an entire wall of the room, taunting them with its inconceivable passcode. There were so many different combinations, it wasn’t something that could really be brute forced. Not for lack of trying. She and Kiibo had spent an entire night just trying combinations on it. All wrong. By the time the sun rose all Maki had was a headache and Kiibo a memorized list of incorrect combinations. They hadn’t even made it a fourth of the way through. It wasn’t worth it.
Besides, there were plenty of other things to test in the room. Like the stupid shelf, filled to the brim with encoded books. For the better part of the night, Maki’d seen Kiibo flip through them, desperately trying to find their cipher. With their luck, it was probably related to the dial, but Kiibo tended to be more optimistic than her, and she could see in his eyes that he was hoping for a breakthrough.
Maki wasn’t. Oh, she’d be happy if they figured it out, but she wasn’t one to bet on losing horses. The room was an enigma, taunting them with its secrets, and Maki knew it would continue taunting them for some time to come.
As for Maki? She’d spent most of the night staring at the wall. Not in a zoned-out sort of way! She wasn’t one to just leave it all to Kiibo. Like it or not, they were in it together. The least she could do was pull her own weight. Still, she couldn’t help but gravitate to the wall. Because on that wall… were pictures.
A long-haired muscular boy in a brown suit. A dark-skinned, white-haired girl in a yellow jacket. A blonde girl with music note hairpins. Faces covered the room, picture frames and portraits hanging off the walls, smiling and laughing like frozen moments in time. Maki couldn’t count the number of nights she’d spent there, just staring at the pictures on the wall. Trying to understand their meaning. Their purpose. And why she couldn’t help but be drawn to two of them.
Right next to each other, as if they were an inseparable pair, were two pictures. The first was of a blue-haired boy. He wore a black uniform, with subtle stripes and gray accents. His skin was pale, like he didn’t see much sun, and he was thin in a way that bordered on unhealthy. He wore a shaky smile, tinged with nervousness but real. The kind that was rare to see but oh so rewarding when you did. And his eyes. God, his eyes. Every time she looked at the picture it was like they changed. At first, she thought they were gray. Then perhaps green. Then gold. They were beautiful but vulnerable and she couldn’t help but stare, wishing the still image could move if only to see the colors change in real-time.
Beside him was another boy. Purple hair in the most ridiculous of hairdos, she couldn’t help but smile every time she saw it. Far too much gel had to have gone into making that hairstyle possible and Maki couldn’t help but find that endearing, even if she didn’t know why. He had a goatee, carefully groomed and presentable, and flashed a thousand-watt smile that no doubt lit up the world around him. One sleeve through his coat, the other not, the inside of his jacket peaked out from where it rested on his shoulder. A beautiful array of stars, planets, and moons were embroidered into it, mixing with the purples, blues, and blacks of space. It was beautiful and Maki wished she could reach through the picture and touch it, if only to feel the soft fabric run across her fingers.
She didn’t know either of them. Never seen them before in her life, not until stepping into her lab that first time. Looking in confusion around the room before stopping and staring at the confusing figures on the walls. She didn’t know them, and yet she couldn’t help but feel like she did.
Kiibo argued that perhaps the key to her lost memories was hidden in the room. That her lab held the answers to all her questions. To why she didn’t know who she was, why she was the Ultimate Survivor, why she was in the Killing Game. Perhaps even why the message in her Monopad told her to trust Kiibo, something that confused the both of them to no end. Why they were apparently the only ones they could trust in the messed-up game, despite having never met until finding themselves trapped in a hellscape of blood and suffering. All of that was in the room, inches away from her reach, just waiting to be grasped. Maki didn’t know if every answer was there, but she had no doubt that the pictures on the wall were connected to her memories. She just didn’t know how.
“Uugh,” Maki groaned, flopping on the ground to stare at the ceiling.
Giant oversized picture frames hung by red string. Cardstock papers dangled from ropes, morbid messages written on every inch. Once, She and Kiibo had considered that the papers might’ve held some clue. She’d balanced on one of the round table chairs, Kiibo grabbing her legs to steady her, and reached for the letters in the sky.
They hadn’t helped. Page after page, nothing more than dying letters and cryptic nonsense. One she’d looked at told her to check the boiler in the garden, but there was no boiler nor garden so they assumed it wasn’t a clue for them. No, if anything, all the papers twirling in the air conditioner’s breeze seemed to be written for people in the past. They referenced things Maki had never seen nor heard of, spoke of people she’d never met, and gave penance for actions she’d never witnessed. She stopped when she came across a suicide note. There was no worth in those messages and, frankly? She didn’t want to hear it. She’d seen enough suffering already. She didn’t need to see any more.
“It is three thirty-five in the morning,” Kiibo reminded, scouring over a book, “Are you certain that you don’t need to sleep?”
“I’ll be fine,” Maki insisted, “What about you? When was the last time you charged?”
“I am fine,” Kiibo stated, “I have enough charge for about three more days. Even then, I do not sleep. I can work and charge at the same time.”
“What, like there’s a power outlet in this room?”
Kiibo pointed to a corner of the room, “Yes, actually. It makes things much more efficient. I admit that I prefer charging in my room, but this works just fine as well.”
Maki huffed, “Convenient.”
“Monokuma does tend towards irony.”
The two lapsed into silence again. Kiibo flipping through his book. Maki staring at the ceiling. If the world could stop being so difficult for five seconds, they’d have figured everything out already. But life was never that simple. They’d enter hell sixteen strong. Staring at the pictures on the wall, Maki reminded herself that there were only nine of them now. Seven people had died already, and she knew full well it wasn’t going to stop there. Kiibo was optimistic. She wasn’t.
“This is going nowhere,” Maki sighed.
“Don’t give up hope now! We’re close to a breakthrough, I’m sure of it!”
Maki grumbled, “Yeah right.”
“Really!” Kiibo insisted, “I’m certain hope is just around the corner.”
Hope. Kiibo loved to talk about hope. Especially when prompted by his Inner Voice. It would be endearing if it wasn’t infuriating.
“Oh fuck it. Hey Kiibo! What’s your Inner Voice say about the pictures on the wall?”
Kiibo startled, “Huh? But you never want to hear what my Inner Voice has to say.”
It was true. Maki didn’t trust Kiibo’s Inner Voice for shit. Her Monopad told her to trust him, not some shady voice in his head. For all she knew, some prick was trying to manipulate the one ally she had from the outside in, and she wasn’t gonna have that.
Something about it all just rubbed her the wrong way. It was bad, she knew it. Of course, it seemed to be the opposite for Kiibo. He seemed predisposed to think that anything his Inner Voice came up with was the Best Thing Ever and that it could do no wrong no matter what. To him, it was a guide in the dark, leading him towards the right path. To her, it was the fairytale wolf taunting Red Riding in the wrong direction.
“I know,” Maki admitted, “But fuck it. We’re both out of ideas, so what do those assholes think? Maybe their answer can help us narrow down something.”
“My Inner Voice isn’t an asshole!” Kiibo argued.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Kiibo shook his head, “As much as I’m grateful that you are giving my Inner Voice a chance… I’m afraid it won’t be much help this time.”
Maki groaned, “Why?”
Kiibo put his book down and joined Maki where she lay on the floor.
“Whenever I try to ask my Inner Voice about this room or those pictures it goes all silent. Not in the sense that they’re not talking. Rather… it’s like whatever’s being said isn’t going through.”
“What. They not allowed to spoil the mystery?” Maki complained.
“Perhaps. Perhaps it’s something we are meant to figure out ourselves. Something that no guide nor God can help us with.”
“Stupid. Should’ve known it would be useless.”
“My Inner Voice isn’t useless! I’m certain you will both learn to understand each other someday!”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Maki stated, “Or. Wait-”
“As I do not need to breathe I have no need to worry about running out of oxygen,” Kiibo said with a smile.
“Well then don’t…” Maki scrambled to find a better saying, “Don’t… Oh fuck you, just don’t!”
Kiibo chuckled, “I think you’ll find that sleeping improves one’s cognitive functions.”
“Shut up,” Maki shot back, “Anyway, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you make of the pictures?”
Kiibo turned to look at the wall, staring at the pictures Maki had stared at a million times before. His shoulders fell.
“I do not know,” he admitted, “I can see why you’re drawn to the blue-haired boy. There’s something about him. I feel… something. When I look at him.”
“Yeah?” Maki breathed out.
“Yes. He strikes me as an intelligent individual. Someone who… perhaps does not value himself that much, but is invaluable to others. I… trust him.”
Invaluable to others, huh?
“Yeah. So do I. …Anybody else?”
Kiibo hummed, “Her.”
Maki watched where he pointed. There, on the wall, was a long-haired blonde girl dressed in pink. Goggles on her forehead, choker round her neck, Maki was disappointed to find she felt very little for her. There was something niggling at the back of her brain, but it wasn’t strong. Not like the blue-haired boy or the star jacket guy.
“I got nothing on her,” Maki admitted, “Anyone else.”
“Uh, that guy?”
Kiibo phrased it like a question, but there was a knowing tone to his voice. Like he was certain about his connection to them, but not the feelings associated. Maki took one look at the picture and determined why.
“Oh, that guy’s a fucking asshole.”
“Maki!” Kiibo scolded, “You don’t even know him!”
He was right, but the purple-haired gremlin in white made her want to punch him anyway. A prick. If she had that much hatred for him without even remembering him, he had to be just an absolute dick.
“If I can tell just by looking at him he must be the biggest prick in the world,” Maki said.
“I don’t know about that,” Kiibo said, “If anything… I think he confuses me? Whenever I look at him I feel a big twist of emotions in my chest that I don’t understand. I must admit it is frustrating. Emotions are confusing enough to understand one at a time. That… mess is something I have little chance at figuring out.”
Maki had to sympathize with that. It’s the reason she left out the guilt that flooded her when she looked at the gremlin’s picture. How it mixed with the hatred in a horrible display, leaving her feeling worse than before.
She turned away from it, staring back at the two boys who sparked her intrigue in the first place.
“God, what are we missing?” Maki complained.
“Well, we know we have some connection to these people,” Kiibo started, “Perhaps they are from your lost memories?”
“Our lost memories,” Maki corrected.
“Well… yes. But you have more lost memories than me.”
“Touche.”
“Still! It means that we must’ve known these people.”
“And that helps us how?” Maki asked.
“Well… if those memories were removed, perhaps it is because these people hold the key to all the mysteries here?”
“Maybe. But how can it be connected to the Killing Game if only us two feel any connection to these pictures?”
Kiibo cringed, “Maybe… maybe it is connected to your talent then?”
“My talent?”
“Maybe you… maybe we all went through something together! With them. And… when all was said and done we got separated from them?”
Maki sighed, “Maybe. Maybe.”
Maki thought about her talent. Ultimate Survivor. The Monopad didn’t elaborate, but she had her hunches. It meant she survived something. Something… perhaps like a death game. Like a Killing Game.
But if that was the case, wouldn’t that mean that she and Kiibo had been through one before? With all the people on the wall? She recalled just how many had died already in the game they were in now. Did that mean… the people on the wall… were dead?
Maki felt her throat close up. No. No, that was silly. Dead? Why would the people on the wall be dead? They couldn’t be dead. She refused to believe that. Because if they were dead. If they were dead…
“Maki?” Kiibo asked, “Are you alright?”
If they were dead it’d mean she’d never see them again. She’d never understand just why she cared so much. Why just the thought of that beaming starlight smile fading made her heart want to break in two. Because no! No, he couldn’t die! She couldn’t lose another person she cared about! She wanted to hold him by the jacket, feel the galaxy wrinkle in her fingers as she buried her face in his chest and swore to never let him go. Because if he left. If he left, then he wouldn’t be coming back.
She didn’t want to see the gold flecks in the blue-haired boy’s eyes disappear. Didn’t want to see his life fade, his spirit crushed. Her chest heaved at the thought of tears in his eyes. As the evil black tendrils of every horrid, dark emotion swallowed him whole in the way that only led to notes like the ones hanging from the ceiling and the worst sort of pain imaginable.
She couldn’t bear the thought of either of them dying. So why did it feel like one of them already had?
“Maki!” Kiibo cried as tears finally began running down her face, “What’s wrong?! Are you alright?!”
He sat her up, hands unsteady on her shoulders, fingers twitching for something to do. She looked into his bright LED eyes and wondered if someone else was looking through them. If his Inner Voice was laughing at her tears and suffering or, worse, pitying her. She rushed to wipe away the tear tracks.
“I-I’m fine,” it was a lie, but who really gave a shit, “You-You were right. I should’ve gone to bed, I’m too tired.”
“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I do not think that is the issue.”
Her wiping wasn’t helping. Every track she wiped away was replaced with another as the tears kept coming down and her shoulders began to shake with held in sobs.
It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t lose them. She didn’t even know them yet, she couldn’t lose them before she got to know them. To understand why she cared so much. To understand why she. Why she-
A sob ripped itself from her throat. Head bending forward, she felt it knock against Kiibo’s chassis as her tears continued to drip. Thank God he was waterproof. She couldn’t bear to short-circuit her only ally in the game because of her pathetic breakdown.
Carefully, as if he was afraid of hurting her, Kiibo wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She felt his heater kick on as he rubbed circles into her back and hugged her close.
“I am not the best at this,” Kiibo admitted, “But I’ve been told that warm hugs can help people feel better. While my heater is supposed to be used when low temperatures are at risk of hurting my machinery, I hope the warmth brings you some comfort.”
Maki just sobbed harder.
“Would,” Kiibo started, “would talking about it help?”
“I-I I don’t, I don’t want,” she took in a shaky breath, “I don’t want them to be dead!”
Kiibo stiffened before pulling her closer, “Oh. I see.”
“I’m tired of-of of all of the death! I can’t lose anybody else! Not, not before I-I’ve even met them!”
“I understand,” Kiibo said quietly, “When I look at the girl with the goggles, a feeling of grief comes over me. I would like to believe it is simply because we are apart, and thus I am feeling the grief of being away from her, but…”
Kiibo didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. If he could, Maki was willing to bet that he’d start crying too.
“I love them!” Maki cried out, “I don’t- I don’t know why. I don’t even know in what way. But I just. I just can’t lose anything else! I don’t want them to be gone!”
She thought of a warm jacket around her shoulders. Of pushups in a courtyard. Of the stars twinkling overhead as laughter and conversation filled the late night air. She thought of shaky smiles and overwhelming side hugs and unwavering trust and of the absolute love she felt for those two boys on the wall. She didn’t know if it was romantic or platonic but she didn’t care. All she cared about was confirming that they were safe. Because, sobbing into Kiibo’s chest, she had the horrifying realization that they likely weren’t.
“It is going to be fine,” Kiibo reassured her, “We have to have hope. Hope that they are ok.”
Hope. What was hope? Did she dare hope for something like that? Pray and beg that the two on the wall were ok, trust in the hope in her heart that they were? What would that hope even lead to? Why was she afraid that it would lead her right back to where she was, crying and sobbing as the rug was ripped out from underneath her.
Kiibo rubbed circles into her back. Insisted that everything was going to be fine. That they were going to get out of there. Going to get out with all their new friends to see all their old friends and finally reunite with everyone on the wall. And they’d feel the relief of seeing everyone alive and well and everything would be ok and they’d deal with all the pain and trauma together.
And she hoped for it. She really did. But the doubt crept into her mind anyway as she considered how the pictures look oh so similar to the death portraits in the trial room, without the bloody x to put the nail in the coffin. And perhaps that’s all it was. A coffin without the nail, to dare her to hope. To dare her to believe they were alive, just to feel the pain hit all the worse when reality came crashing down like gravity.
She hoped anyway. Sobbing as she was, gripping Kiibo so tight that any human would’ve bruised, she let herself hope and clung to both like a lifeline. If she was going to get through the game, she had to let herself believe they were ok. Even if she knew it was just a lie.