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Makoto Naegi was having a day.
Was it a bad day? Probably not. He’d survived another deadly game and managed to save his seniors–and the world–from a looming despair, quickly becoming regarded as a hero once more.
But it didn’t really feel like a good day either. As the boat containing the 77th class sailed away, an invisible string pulled his eyes downwards to the pale streak of blood on his palm. The color had diminished more with every passing sunrise, and it was barely visible now. He feared there would come a time when his memory would start to fade as well.
He had to keep moving forward. Dwelling on the past would only leave him unprepared for the future.
He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to face the future planned for him.
The reconstruction. The recovery. The funerals.
Her funeral.
It would be alright, though. If not now, then eventually. In doing this, he would spread more seeds of hope to grow a better world in the ashes of yesterday’s destruction. He had his classmates to rely on if needed. He had many others providing support. He would find a way.
The soft yet sure tap of boots on concrete broke through his thoughts. He blinked twice to clear the fog, donning a mask of resolve before turning to face the advancing person.
Words failed him as his mind shattered, eyes widening, trying to mend together the shards with a gasp, the truth registering in pieces.
A single braid within a cascade of light lavender hair, the wind blowing life into the locks.
A pair of striking purple eyes that felt like they could pierce through your soul, calmly observing despite the brimming tears.
A faint smile, so small you’d never notice if you didn’t know what to look for.
He felt like he was in front of the elevator again, years ago, watching a ghost walk back into his life once more.
His feet were frozen. He had the smallest sensation of shaky hands, eyes welling up, but it was barely discernible as time slowed to a stop.
His voice was a whisper of disbelief.
“Kiri...giri?”
Icy eyes softened. A small grin widened.
“Naegi.”
And then he was running, feet flying off the ground before he even made the conscious decision to move, the fragile shield holding back his emotions finally splintering as he practically crashed into Kyoko in a tight embrace, beaming with gratitude, strange mixtures of laughter and sobs hiccuping out of his mouth as he felt her chest rise and fall with breath against his, a reminder that she was alive, she was really alive and really here in his arms somehow and oh wait she’d never really been open to physical affection he realized as he stepped back, an apology already forming-
“What, you’re not going to let me hug you back?” she muttered in a blend of annoyance and admiration, wrapping her arms around the trembling Makoto, and oh it felt so good to hear her voice again, a voice he was scared he’d lost forever. After a few wonderful seconds, he took a step backwards, wiping the tears of happiness from his face, his mind scrambling to catch up with the now, trying to figure out-
“How?” he managed to choke out between breaths of relief, his words staggered, voice breaking. “I thought you were–I thought you were dead, I saw your forbidden action, I-I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry-”
“No, you’re wrong.” Kyoko’s words were as confident as he remembered.
“Huh?”
“You did save me.”
“What do you mean? Kirigiri, because I was alive, you died.” Makoto’s words were laced with confusion.
“Well, upon investigating Kimura’s body, I found she had an antidote to the poison stored in the bracelets. There was barely enough for one dose left, and I wasn’t even sure it would work, but it looks like some of your luck must’ve rubbed off on me, and I was fortunate enough to end up in a coma instead. The one who woke me up was the Ultimate Nurse, who was part of the 77th class you freed. Without her, and by extension, you, I’d still be asleep right now. So thank you, Naegi.” As Kyoko recounted her story, Makoto couldn’t help but feel another surge of respect, quite similar to the class trials all those months earlier when she would always deliver nothing but the unfiltered truth with perfect precision.
He was silent for a moment. More memories came back in short bursts, memories he’d tried to lock away so he could face what he had to do with dry eyes.
Memories of Kyoko holding out a bag of food and water, a piece of trash perched on her head, her eyes shining with care and worry despite the cold, unmoving expression she typically wore.
Memories of Kyoko’s corpse, somehow reanimated, berating him for leaving her behind, her tone admonishing as she wished he’d died instead of her. He should’ve died instead of her. He could’ve saved her if he’d just been more, if he’d just been enough-
No, that wasn’t right. There’s no way she’d say that.
“You okay?” Kyoko’s words broke through the thoughts that weren’t his, and he hurriedly pushed aside that tormenting video with a few deep breaths. “You zoned out for a bit.”
“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Makoto muttered, rapidly blinking away the haze. “The rest of the game was...strenuous, to say the least. There were a lot of-”
“Mind tricks, I take it?”
“Yeah. You were right, by the way, about your theory. That there wasn’t a killer, and the monitors were definitely involved.”
Kyoko raised an eyebrow slightly, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. “Well, since when have I been wrong?” Her eyes flicked downward in thought. “Wait-how did you figure that out? Don’t tell me you-”
“Yeah,” Makoto cut her off, instantly regretting it when he saw the flash of panic dance across her face. “Sorry, but I volunteered to test it, and you were right-”
“Do not tell me I sacrificed myself just for you to go and try to die anyways!” Kyoko exclaimed with concern.
“I was fine, Sakakura-san saved me!” Makoto replied, choosing to ignore how terribly useless the ropes that Munakata tied him up with had ended up being. “But...you were in the video the monitor played, and it felt so real, and–and now I’m scared that nothing’s real sometimes, that maybe I’m still trapped there, hallucinating...” Even as he said the words, he wished he could take them all back, hated how hurt he’d been to cause this paranoia, hated that he’d even entertained the stupid idea, hated how weak he was to the worry-
In response, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his.
A startled squeak was elicited from his throat, and before he’d even begun to process what had happened, she’d pulled away.
“Regardless, I’m just glad you’re okay. You believe this is real now, right?” Kyoko asked. Her voice was still the same undisturbed tone, but a subtle blush broke through her usually cool and collected mask.
In perfect contrast, Makoto was sure his face was a bright scarlet. All coherent thought promptly evaporated as he intently stared at the ground in embarrassment. “I-uh, you-you just-did you-I-oh my god you actually did that-”
Makoto’s startled gibberish dissolved into laughter, Kyoko joining in with a grin. “You know, your smile is just so cute.” Upon seeing his mildly shocked reaction, she added, “I hope it’s not too soon to bring that up now, is it?”
More memories of past conversations flooded Makoto’s mind, causing his smile to stretch even wider. He took a breath, meeting Kyoko's eyes and hoping to no avail that his face didn’t show how flustered he was. “I love you, Kyoko.”
Her eyes widened, a rare show of surprise, but not soon after, her smile returned, sweet as ever. “I love you too, Makoto.”