Archive of Our Own

The typhoon had begun during the early hours of the afternoon.

At first, it had only been heavy rain accompanied by occasional gusts. However, in less than an hour, the sky above Hope’s Peak Academy turned an almost black shade of gray, and the wind began battering the dormitory windows with such force that the glass rattled inside its frames.

The news repeated the same warning on every channel:

No one was to leave the buildings until further notice.

The academy staff had also gone through the dormitories to make sure the students stayed inside. The exterior doors had been reinforced, the courtyards closed off, and all activities for that afternoon canceled.

For that reason, the sixteen students of Class 78 were gathered in the dormitory common room.

“Everyone, listen carefully!”

Kiyotaka Ishimaru’s voice managed to rise even above the noise of the wind.

He stood in front of the television, his back straight and a sheet of instructions in his hands. He had underlined several lines and added notes in the margins, even though the staff notice was barely two paragraphs long.

“The academy staff has ordered us to remain inside the dormitories until the alert is lifted! The windows must remain closed, no one is to open the exterior doors, and leaving the building is strictly forbidden under any circumstances!”

“You’ve already said that three times,” Leon Kuwata complained from one of the couches. “No one’s thinking about going outside to play baseball in the middle of a typhoon.”

Mondo Owada, sitting with his arms crossed beside the couch, looked toward the windows.

“You’d have to be an idiot to go out in this weather.”

A clap of thunder shook the building.

Leon gave a small jump.

Mondo glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

“Did that scare you?”

“Of course not!” Leon immediately straightened himself. “I just thought a window had exploded.”

“That means you were scared,” Chihiro Fujisaki remarked quietly.

Leon looked at him with a wounded expression.

“Even you, Fujisaki...?”

Near the window, Aoi Asahina had her face almost pressed against the glass.

“You can’t see anything!” she exclaimed. “The courtyard looks like a giant swimming pool.”

“Asahina, step away from the window,” Taka ordered. “The notice says we must keep a safe distance!”

“I’m looking through it, not trying to climb through it.”

Sakura Ogami placed a hand on Aoi’s shoulder and gently pulled her away.

“It is better not to take unnecessary risks.”

“Fine, Sakura...”

Aoi obeyed without protesting, though she kept looking back at the storm over her shoulder.

Makoto Naegi was sitting in a chair beside Sayaka Maizono. He watched the tree branches bend beneath the wind and tried not to imagine what would happen if one of them was torn loose and hurled into the building.

“It’s much stronger than they said it would be this morning,” he murmured.

“Are you worried, Makoto-kun?” Sayaka asked.

“A little. My parents worry even when it’s just raining normally. Komaru is probably watching the news and thinking the whole building is going to blow away.”

Sayaka smiled.

“You should call them once the signal is more stable. I’m sure they’ll feel better after hearing your voice.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

On the other side of the room, Yasuhiro Hagakure had spread several magazines and a small charm across the table.

“According to my clairvoyant powers, there is a thirty-percent chance this typhoon was caused by an ancient maritime curse.”

Kyoko Kirigiri, who was sitting in a corner reading, did not even look up.

“There is also a seventy-percent chance that you are making it up.”

“Exactly! That means the thirty percent is real.”

“That isn’t how probability works,” Makoto muttered.

“Naegi, don’t argue with a professional.”

“A professional?” Toko Fukawa let out a scornful laugh. “You’re a s-scam artist with the hair of a dead palm tree.”

“Hey! My hair serves a spiritual purpose.”

Byakuya Togami turned a page in his book, apparently oblivious to everyone else.

“What a pointless conversation.”

Toko immediately turned toward him.

“T-Togami is right! You should all stay quiet so you don’t interrupt his reading! Not all of us have simple minds that need constant noise to remain active.”

“You’re the one making the most noise,” Leon said.

Toko glared at him.

“No one asked you, second-rate baseball player!”

“I’m the Ultimate Baseball Star!”

“And yet you don’t even want to play baseball.”

“Because I want to be a musician!”

“That’s even more pathetic.”

“Want to say that again?”

“Silence!” Taka intervened. “Unnecessary arguments are harmful to collective harmony!”

Junko Enoshima, reclining in one of the armchairs with her legs crossed, let out an exaggerated sigh.

“This is so boring.”

For several minutes, she had been shifting positions, checking her phone despite having no signal, and flipping through a fashion magazine she had already read twice.

“There’s no signal, we can’t go outside, every channel is talking about the same typhoon, and the disciplinary committee president won’t stop repeating the rules,” she continued. “Dying of boredom while trapped in a dormitory would be a pretty unglamorous ending.”

“I am not the president of any committee!” Taka protested. “I am merely fulfilling my duty as a student!”

“That’s exactly what a committee president would say.”

By one wall, Mukuro Ikusaba remained silent. She had discreetly inspected the windows, the evacuation routes, and any objects that could become projectiles if a pane of glass shattered.

“The building is secure,” she said simply. “The wind would have to increase significantly before it could cause structural damage.”

Everyone looked at her.

Mukuro blinked.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Makoto replied. “That was just... very specific.”

“It is useful to know.”

Junko waved a hand.

“My sister always knows how to turn a boring afternoon into a military report.”

Mukuro lowered her gaze slightly.

“I was only trying to reassure everyone.”

“And you did,” Makoto said quickly. “Thank you, Ikusaba-san.”

Mukuro watched him for a moment before turning her head and nodding.

“You’re welcome.”

Aoi suddenly clapped her hands.

“I know! Let’s do something!”

Taka raised an eyebrow.

“Something?”

“An activity. We’re all trapped in here, and everyone’s mood is getting worse. We could play a game, eat something, or tell stories. Anything so we don’t spend the entire afternoon staring at the rain.”

“I agree,” Sayaka said. “The atmosphere is pretty tense. Doing something together might help us relax.”

Leon sat up.

“As long as it’s something fun.”

“We could hold a tournament!” Hifumi Yamada proposed, raising one finger. “Video games, questions about otaku culture, or acting out two-dimensional female characters.”

“No,” several voices answered at once.

Hifumi placed a hand over his chest.

“My talent has been rejected before it could even reveal itself.”

“We could have a swimming competition,” Aoi suggested.

Everyone looked toward the storm.

“That was a joke,” she clarified. “Mostly.”

Celestia Ludenberg carefully set her cup onto its saucer.

“Since we are being forced to share this space, we could play a board game.”

“A normal game?” Makoto asked.

Celeste smiled.

“Naturally. Although it would be far more interesting if there were some form of wager.”

Taka slammed both hands onto the table.

“Gambling with money is forbidden!”

“How predictable.”

“Besides,” Makoto added, “playing for money against Celeste seems like a pretty fast way to lose all our savings.”

Celeste gave him a satisfied smile.

“At least Naegi understands the situation.”

“We can play for points,” Sayaka suggested. “The winning team could choose the next activity.”

“That sounds good!” Aoi threw both arms into the air. “Let’s do it!”

Byakuya kept reading.

“I will not participate.”

“No one is forcing you,” Kyoko said.

Byakuya looked up.

“I did not need you to clarify that.”

“Then you can continue reading.”

The two of them stared at each other for several seconds.

Makoto felt as though an entire argument had taken place without either of them raising their voice.

Toko moved closer to Byakuya’s chair.

“I won’t participate either. I can stay here and make sure no one bothers Togami.”

“Your presence already bothers me,” he replied.

Toko froze.

“S-such direct cruelty... Just as expected of Togami...”

Leon grimaced.

“I don’t want to know what that expression means.”

Eventually, the students cleared the central table. Celeste produced a deck of cards and explained a simple team game. Since no one trusted her to deal without giving herself some kind of advantage, Kyoko handled the shuffling.

The teams were formed on the spot.

Makoto ended up with Sayaka, Chihiro, and Mondo.

Aoi joined Sakura, Leon, and Taka.

Celeste gathered Hifumi, Yasuhiro, and Toko, though Toko insisted she was only participating because Byakuya had agreed to watch from a nearby armchair.

Junko ended up with Mukuro and Kyoko.

“Three against four?” Makoto asked.

Junko smiled.

“We don’t need a fourth person. We have the detective, the useless sister, and Japan’s most fabulous model. The balance would be broken even if we played with one hand.”

“You shouldn’t exaggerate, sister,” Mukuro said.

“I wasn’t exaggerating about myself.”

The game began relatively calmly.

That calm lasted less than five minutes.

“That isn’t fair!” Leon protested. “Celeste is counting cards!”

“There is no rule forbidding it,” she replied.

“There is now!” Taka wrote something down on a sheet of paper. “New rule: counting cards is forbidden!”

Celeste looked at him with a perfectly still smile.

“I understand.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

“I think you made her angry,” Aoi whispered.

“The rules must guarantee a fair competition!”

“Do not worry,” Celeste replied with unsettling sweetness. “I am not angry in the slightest.”

Makoto swallowed.

“She’s definitely angry.”

Meanwhile, Yasuhiro tried to consult his cards by holding them close to his charm.

“I’m feeling a vibration. The universe is telling me to play this card.”

“That card can’t be used on this turn,” Hifumi pointed out.

“The universe can be wrong sometimes.”

“That explains a great deal about your predictions,” Toko said.

On Makoto’s team, Mondo was gripping his cards so tightly that several of them had begun to bend.

“Owada-kun,” Chihiro said carefully, “I think you’re damaging them.”

Mondo flinched and loosened his fingers.

“Damn. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s only a game,” Makoto reminded him.

“I know it’s only a game!” Mondo slammed a hand against the table. “But I’m going to win it!”

The impact made the cups tremble.

Chihiro shrank back.

Mondo noticed immediately.

“I wasn’t yelling at you.”

“I-I know.”

“And stop making that face. I’m not going to hit you for losing a round.”

“That isn’t especially reassuring,” Sayaka remarked with a delicate laugh.

On Junko’s team, Mukuro studied the cards as though they were a tactical map. Kyoko watched everyone’s movements, while Junko devoted herself to provoking the others.

“Naegi,” Junko said, resting her chin on one hand. “You’re making that face.”

Makoto looked up.

“What face?”

“The ‘I don’t know what to do, but I’ll pretend everything is fine so no one worries’ face.”

“I didn’t know I had a face like that.”

“You make it almost all the time,” Kyoko added.

Makoto looked to Sayaka for support.

The idol smiled with a hint of guilt.

“It’s a little true.”

“Wow...”

Junko burst out laughing.

“You’re far too easy to read.”

“That’s because you’re far too loud,” Mukuro muttered.

Junko slowly turned toward her.

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing.”

Despite Celeste’s early advantage, Aoi’s team ended up winning thanks to a combination of Sakura’s memory, Taka’s obsession with the rules, and a completely accidental play by Leon.

Aoi jumped out of her seat.

“We won!”

“A victory achieved through cooperation, discipline, and respect for the rules!” Taka declared.

“I played the winning card,” Leon said.

“Because I told you which one to play,” Sakura clarified.

“But I was still the one who played it.”

As the winners, they chose the next activity.

Aoi suggested a game of charades.

Byakuya closed his book.

“This has gone too far.”

“All you have to do is guess!” Aoi said. “You don’t even need to stand up.”

“I have no intention of participating in childish entertainment.”

“Can’t you do it?” Junko asked with a provocative smile.

Byakuya looked at her.

“A rather poor provocation.”

“Then prove it.”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“That sounds like you can’t do it.”

Toko shot to her feet in outrage.

“Togami can do anything! He could defeat all of you with his eyes closed if he considered you worth his time!”

Byakuya reopened his book.

“Fukawa, sit down.”

“Yes!”

The charades began without him.

Aoi went first. She moved her arms as though she were swimming, and everyone guessed it in under ten seconds.

“That was way too easy!” Leon protested.

“It’s not my fault I’m excellent at acting out swimming!”

Sakura received the word “cat.” Her imitation consisted of tilting her head slightly and raising one hand.

No one dared to laugh.

“A tiger?” Taka asked.

Sakura shook her head.

“A mythical beast?” Hifumi guessed.

Sakura shook her head again.

Aoi raised her hand excitedly.

“A kitten!”

Sakura nodded.

“Correct.”

“How did you know?” Makoto asked.

“Because Sakura is adorable.”

Sakura looked away, slightly embarrassed.

When it was Kyoko’s turn, she had to act out “detective.”

She remained completely still.

“Have you started yet?” Leon asked.

Kyoko nodded.

“A statue?” Aoi said.

“A boring person?” Junko ventured.

Kyoko looked at her.

“A silent assassin?” Yasuhiro asked.

Mukuro shook her head seriously.

“Her posture is unsuitable for concealing a weapon.”

Everyone looked at her.

Mukuro fell silent again.

Makoto studied Kyoko’s gloves, her posture, and the way she examined everyone present.

“A detective?”

“Correct,” she replied.

“But you didn’t do anything!” Leon protested.

“I observed the scene and waited for a conclusion.”

“That isn’t charades.”

“It worked.”

Junko went next. Her word was “idol.”

She stood up, put on an exaggeratedly sweet smile, and began waving to an imaginary audience while striking poses in front of the table.

Sayaka watched her with a patient smile.

“An idol?”

Junko pointed at her.

“Correct! Though I expected it to take longer. My performance was far too perfect.”

“You looked like an idol from a cheap commercial,” Toko remarked.

“And you look like the kind of customer who would write a twenty-page complaint because she didn’t receive a personal smile.”

Toko turned red.

“S-shut up, you exhibitionist!”

When Makoto’s turn came, he took a slip of paper and read the word.

“Washing machine.”

He looked at Aoi, who was waiting eagerly.

Makoto began rotating his arms in front of his body.

“A windmill?” Sayaka asked.

Makoto shook his head.

He spun his arms faster and swayed his body from side to side.

“A dizzy person?” Chihiro said.

Makoto shook his head again.

“Naegi trying to survive an ordinary day?” Junko asked.

Several people laughed.

“No,” Makoto replied, though he smiled as well.

He tried crouching while continuing to rotate his arms.

Mondo frowned.

“Are you fighting someone?”

“Why would that be your first conclusion?” Leon asked.

“Because he’s waving his arms around like an idiot.”

“A washing machine!” Sayaka suddenly exclaimed.

Makoto stopped moving.

“Yes.”

Aoi collapsed onto the couch laughing.

“Makoto, you looked like you were trapped inside the washing machine!”

“I did the best I could.”

“That’s the worrying part,” Junko said.

The activity continued until a flash of lightning illuminated the entire room.

A moment later, the lights went out.

Chihiro let out a muffled sound.

Toko screamed.

“W-what happened?!”

“It’s only a power outage,” Kyoko said calmly.

“No one move!” Taka ordered. “We must avoid accidents!”

A thud echoed through the room.

“Damn it!” Mondo growled.

“Are you all right?” Chihiro asked.

“Yeah. I ran into the table.”

“I told everyone not to move,” Taka complained.

“I moved before you said it!”

Emergency lights switched on in the hallway, bathing the room in a dim glow.

Mukuro was already standing by the door.

“The generator should activate soon.”

Junko rested her elbows on the back of the armchair.

“Now things are finally getting interesting.”

“Don’t start,” Makoto muttered.

“Start what?”

“I don’t know, but whenever you say something like that, a problem happens.”

Junko smiled broadly.

“Maybe you’re the problem, Ultimate Lucky Student.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither does luck.”

Yasuhiro raised his charm.

“I propose a séance while we have the darkness.”

“Rejected,” Taka, Makoto, Leon, and Chihiro answered at the same time.

“You didn’t even hear the price.”

“That makes it worse,” Makoto said.

Sayaka suggested telling stories until the electricity returned. Hifumi wanted to begin with a lengthy tale about a demon princess, but Toko interrupted him before the first minute was over.

Celeste told a story about a European mansion where the guests vanished one by one during a storm. She spoke in such a calm voice that Chihiro eventually moved a little closer to Mondo.

Mondo noticed, but said nothing. He merely crossed his arms and positioned himself between Chihiro and the window.

When the story ended, Aoi clung to Sakura’s arm.

“It didn’t scare me.”

“You are trembling,” Sakura observed.

“It’s because I’m cold.”

“The room is still warm.”

“Then it’s emotional cold.”

The power returned several minutes later.

By then, the atmosphere had become much more relaxed. Even Toko had stopped arguing with everyone, though she continued casting suspicious looks at any girl who came near Byakuya.

The staff sent a message confirming that the alert would remain in effect throughout the night. They also reminded the students to keep the main entrance clear in case an evacuation became necessary.

Taka read the message aloud.

When he finished, he examined the room and his eyes widened.

“This is a disaster!”

During the activities, they had left cups, wrappers, cards, and cushions everywhere. In addition, the floor near the entrance was covered in small wet footprints. Before the storm worsened, several students had come inside with soaked shoes, leaving mud and leaves near the door.

“It isn’t that bad,” Leon said.

“Cleanliness and order are fundamental responsibilities of every student!”

Mondo stood up.

“Then we clean it up. No speech necessary.”

“I agree,” Sakura said.

Everyone began tidying, some with more enthusiasm than others.

Sayaka and Aoi gathered the cups. Sakura straightened the tables. Chihiro carefully collected the cards so Celeste would not have to do it alone. Mondo and Leon moved the furniture while arguing about who was stronger, as Taka demanded that they not drag the legs across the floor.

Byakuya simply closed his book and walked into the hallway.

“Togami still hasn’t helped!” Taka protested.

Byakuya did not even stop.

“I did not create this mess.”

Toko ran after him.

“T-Togami, wait! I didn’t make any mess either! Well, perhaps one cup, but that was because that swimmer shouted near me...”

“Fukawa!” Taka called.

She ignored him and disappeared down the hallway.

Once they finished tidying the room, only the entrance remained.

“We need to sweep up the leaves, clean the mud, and dry the water,” Taka said. “Two people will be enough.”

“Don’t look at me,” Leon replied. “I moved the couch.”

“So did I,” Mondo added.

“I washed all the cups!” Aoi said.

“I helped you,” Sayaka reminded her.

Yasuhiro tried to quietly step backward.

Kyoko pointed at him.

“Hagakure is attempting to escape.”

“I’m not escaping! I was only checking the safety of the hallway.”

“We will draw lots,” Taka decided. “It is the fairest solution.”

Celeste prepared several folded slips of paper. Taka mixed them inside a box to prevent any tampering.

Everyone still present took one.

Makoto unfolded his.

A large red mark was written on the paper.

“I got it.”

“Bad luck, Makoto-kun,” Sayaka said.

Makoto smiled with resignation.

“I’m used to it.”

“One person remains,” Taka announced.

Junko opened her paper and stared at it in silence.

Then her face twisted into an expression of absolute outrage.

“Me?”

“It seems so,” Kyoko said.

“This has to be rigged.”

Celeste smiled.

“You watched Ishimaru mix the papers yourself.”

“Then the universe is rigged.”

“I don’t think you can file a formal complaint against the universe,” Makoto remarked.

Junko looked up at him.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

Taka handed them a broom, a dustpan, a mop, and a bucket.

“I trust that both of you will fulfill your responsibility!”

“Of course,” Makoto replied.

Junko took the broom between two fingers as though she had been handed a contaminated object.

“This is going to ruin my nails.”

“You can use the cleaning gloves,” Chihiro suggested.

“Those gloves will ruin my image.”

“No one is going to take your picture,” Mukuro said.

Junko turned toward her.

“That is no reason to abandon personal standards.”

Aoi approached Makoto.

“Good luck.”

“We only have to clean the floor.”

“I wasn’t talking about the floor.”

Makoto looked at Junko, who was examining the broom with an increasingly bored expression.

“Oh.”

Sayaka hid a laugh.

Little by little, the others withdrew to their rooms. Taka was the last to leave, after reminding them three times not to open the exterior door.

Makoto and Junko were left alone at the entrance.

The typhoon continued roaring beyond the glass. The gusts struck the doors and made the handles tremble slightly.

Makoto dipped the mop into the bucket.

“It’ll be faster if I clean the mud and you sweep up the leaves.”

Junko rested her chin on the end of the broom.

“Why do you get to assign the jobs?”

“I wasn’t trying to order you around. I just thought it would be more practical.”

“Then I’ll clean the mud and you’ll sweep.”

“Fine.”

Makoto offered her the mop.

Junko looked at it.

Then she looked at the dirty water in the bucket.

“I’ve changed my mind. Your first idea was excellent.”

Makoto sighed.

“I thought so.”

He began cleaning the footprints while Junko pushed the same leaf back and forth without picking it up.

“Enoshima...”

“I’m working.”

“You’ve been playing with the same leaf for a minute.”

“It’s a very rebellious leaf.”

“You just have to push it into the dustpan.”

“Don’t restrict my creative process.”

Makoto continued mopping.

Junko watched him from the corner of her eye. He had not truly complained, not even when she had stopped sweeping entirely. He simply kept cleaning with that resigned, patient expression that seemed to follow him everywhere.

“Naegi.”

“Yes?”

“Do you always do what people tell you?”

Makoto paused for a moment.

“Not always.”

“It seems like you do. Ishimaru says ‘clean’ and you clean. Asahina says ‘play’ and you play. Maizono says ‘call your family,’ and you’ll probably do it the moment we finish.”

“That last one is because she’s right.”

“What a boringly sensible answer.”

Makoto smiled a little.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

Junko spun the broom between her hands.

“Nothing. It just seems exhausting to care so much about keeping everyone happy.”

“I’m not trying to keep everyone happy.”

Junko raised an eyebrow.

Makoto looked down at the wet floor.

“Well... maybe a little. But I prefer that to watching everyone argue.”

“People argue even when you try to stop them.”

“Yeah. Today made that pretty clear.”

Junko let out a brief laugh.

Another clap of thunder rolled over the dormitories.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Makoto kept cleaning, and Junko finally began sweeping for real, though she did so with obvious reluctance.

“The gathering wasn’t so bad,” Makoto commented.

“You lost at cards, made a fool of yourself during charades, and now you’re cleaning mud.”

“It was still fun.”

Junko looked at him as though trying to decide whether he was sincere or merely naïve.

“You’re strange, Naegi.”

“I don’t think I’m the strange one in this class.”

“That’s what makes you strange. You’re surrounded by Ultimates and still act as though you’re the most normal person in the world.”

“Probably because I am.”

Junko smiled.

It was not her exaggerated model’s smile, nor the mocking expression she used to provoke the others. It was something much briefer and harder to interpret.

“We’ll see.”

Makoto did not understand what she meant.

Before he could ask, Junko pushed a leaf back out of the pile she had just gathered.

“Enoshima...”

“It escaped.”

“You pushed it.”

“You can’t prove that.”

Makoto stared at her.

Junko held his gaze for two seconds before she started laughing.

“Your face! Fine, fine. I’ll finish sweeping.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Makoto returned to the mop while Junko gathered the scattered leaves again. Outside, the typhoon continued battering the academy. Inside, the entrance slowly began to regain its usual appearance.

The cleaning was still going to take a while.

Especially because Junko seemed determined to turn every simple task into an argument.

The wind howled around the dormitories like some enormous animal, pounding the walls, shaking the trees, and making the windows tremble. From time to time, a branch went flying through the air, or something metallic rolled across the courtyard with an impossible-to-identify crash.

No one in their right mind would consider going outside.

For that very reason, Junko Enoshima had spent nearly twenty minutes staring fixedly at the main door.

“I’m bored.”

Makoto Naegi continued running the mop over the floor without looking up.

“You already said that.”

“I’m terribly bored.”

“You said that too.”

“I’m so bored I can feel my soul trying to leave my body in search of something more interesting.”

Makoto let out a quiet sigh.

“That one’s new.”

“Thank you. I work very hard to keep my complaints fresh.”

Junko held her broom in one hand, though saying she was cleaning would have been generous. Since their shift began, she had done little more than push the same pile of dust from one side to the other.

As a result of the drawing Taka had held after the activities ended, the two of them had been assigned to clean the dormitory entrance.

Junko had declared that the universe was rigged.

Makoto had simply accepted the result with resignation.

“You could finish your part,” he said. “The faster we’re done, the faster we can leave.”

“Leave for where?”

“Our rooms.”

“That isn’t leaving. It’s trading one boring room for a smaller, even more boring room.”

Junko tilted her head back and stared dramatically at the ceiling.

“Is this the grand future that awaited me at Hope’s Peak? Trapped in a luxury dormitory, surrounded by supposedly talented teenagers, and forced to sweep a floor that was already clean?”

Makoto looked around.

The floor was not clean.

There was damp dirt near the entrance, leaves that had slipped inside before the doors were shut, and small puddles left by students who had run back from the other buildings.

“It could be worse.”

“That’s the kind of thing someone says right before everything gets worse.”

“I wasn’t trying to tempt fate.”

Junko turned toward him with a sudden smile.

“You? The Ultimate Lucky Student? Never.”

Makoto grimaced.

“I’d rather we didn’t start with that.”

“With what? Reminding you that you were chosen out of thousands of students by pure chance?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

“Don’t be so modest. Maybe your incredible talent is making annoying chores seem like everyday events.”

“That doesn’t sound like good luck.”

“It depends on how much fun I’m having.”

Junko giggled and rested her chin on the end of the broom.

Makoto focused on cleaning again.

He had already learned that trying to win an argument against Junko was practically impossible. She changed the rules of the conversation every few seconds, deliberately exaggerated everything, and seemed to take special delight whenever she managed to make someone lose their patience.

Makoto did not get angry easily.

That seemed to frustrate and amuse her at the same time.

For several seconds, the only sounds were the scrape of the broom against the floor and the violent pounding of the rain.

Junko looked at the door.

Then at her broom.

Then at Makoto.

A dangerous smile appeared on her face.

Makoto caught it from the corner of his eye.

“Junko...”

She gripped the handle with both hands.

“Yes?”

“Don’t do whatever you’re thinking.”

“And what am I thinking?”

“I don’t know, but you have that expression.”

“What expression?”

“The one you make right before doing something you know you shouldn’t.”

Junko widened her eyes in mock outrage.

“Naegi! What a cruel accusation! I would never do anything inappropriate during a cleaning shift!”

Makoto stopped.

“Really?”

“No.”

Crack!

In one quick motion, Junko braced the broom handle against her knee and snapped it in half.

Makoto froze.

One half of the broom fell to the floor.

Junko raised the broken pieces in front of her face and put on an expression of theatrical horror.

“Oh, no!”

“Junko...”

“My broom! My poor, innocent broom has succumbed to this academy’s terrible working conditions!”

“You just broke it.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I’m standing right in front of you.”

“Unreliable testimony. You are emotionally involved with the victim.”

Makoto closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because now I can’t keep cleaning.”

Junko dropped both pieces of wood onto the floor, dusted off her hands, and began walking toward the hallway.

“Well, it was a pleasure working with you. I’ll leave you in charge of the funeral.”

Makoto reacted immediately.

“Wait!”

Junko kept walking.

Makoto left the mop propped beside the bucket and went after her.

“Junko, you can’t just walk away!”

A deafening roar shook the building.

BOOOOOOM!

The glass doors rattled violently. Makoto jumped and completely lost the firm tone he had been trying to use.

Junko stopped.

Slowly, she turned her head.

“Were you saying something?”

Makoto cleared his throat.

“I said you can’t leave. We were both assigned this task, and we have to finish it.”

“My work tool suffered an accident.”

“You caused the accident.”

“The broom and I had creative differences.”

“Junko.”

Makoto tried to give her a serious look.

She watched him with a mocking smile.

“Oh. That look.”

“What about it?”

“You’re trying to look authoritative.”

“I’m not trying to look authoritative. I’m only saying we should fulfill our responsibility.”

“That sounded even less authoritative.”

Makoto tightened his fists slightly.

“Either way, I’m not going to let you—”

CRAAAAASH!

Something struck the outside of the building. The sound was so loud that Makoto instinctively turned toward the door.

For an instant, he thought he saw a metal trash can rolling across the courtyard before it vanished into the rain.

When he looked back at Junko, she was covering her mouth to hold in her laughter.

“The typhoon really doesn’t want you to finish your sentences.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Of course it is. The great Makoto Naegi tries to assert his authority, but nature itself keeps interrupting him.”

“I’m not trying to assert anything.”

“That’s your problem.”

Junko turned away.

This time, however, she did not walk deeper into the dormitory.

She headed toward the entrance.

It took Makoto a second to understand.

“Wait... what are you doing?”

“Looking for something interesting.”

“Junko, there’s a typhoon outside.”

“I noticed from the wind, the rain, the warnings, and the enormous number of people repeating it every five minutes.”

Junko reached the glass doors.

The wind pressed against them, making the handles tremble slightly.

Makoto ran forward and planted himself in front of the exit.

“You’re not going outside.”

Junko’s smile vanished for a second.

Not because she was angry.

She seemed surprised.

Makoto was surprised too.

He was not an especially imposing person. He was shorter than many of his classmates, did not possess an intimidating voice, and knew that his firm expression was probably not as convincing as he wanted it to be.

Even so, he remained in front of the door.

Junko tilted her head.

“And who says so?”

Makoto swallowed.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

This time, he did not look away.

“I do.”

Junko raised an eyebrow.

“Wow.”

“It’s dangerous,” Makoto added quickly. “The teachers said no one is allowed outside. There are branches flying around, the ground is flooded, and the wind could knock you down.”

“How touching, all that concern.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I.”

Junko began walking closer.

Makoto did not back away, though he had to force his feet to remain in place.

She stopped a short distance away and looked directly into his eyes.

“We’re young, Naegi.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

Junko spread her arms as though delivering a speech to an invisible crowd.

“We’re still allowed to make stupid mistakes. We can still take risks, break rules, and make decisions that will embarrass our future selves. If we don’t do it now, we’ll turn into those boring adults who only talk about safety, schedules, and responsibilities.”

“I don’t think going outside during a typhoon is necessary to become an interesting adult.”

“That is exactly what a future boring adult would say.”

Makoto frowned.

“You could also become an injured adult.”

“But I’d be an injured adult with a good story.”

“Or you might not live long enough to become an adult.”

Junko watched him for a moment.

Then her smile widened.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“That little bit of brutal honesty you hide underneath all that politeness.”

Makoto looked away slightly.

“I’m only worried.”

“Yes. I know.”

Junko placed one hand on a door handle.

“Besides, doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“That we’re always being watched.”

Her tone shifted slightly.

She still sounded carefree, but there was something else behind her words.

“Ever since we arrived, everyone has been telling us what to do. What time to wake up, when to go to class, where we can enter, which parts of the academy are off-limits... They even decide when we’re allowed to have fun.”

“It’s a school.”

“It’s a cage in a pretty uniform.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Of course it is. Exaggerating makes things less boring.”

Junko looked through the glass.

Beyond the door, the world seemed to be disappearing beneath the storm.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to do something just because someone told you that you couldn’t?”

Makoto fell silent.

He had felt something similar before.

Not exactly the desire to break rules, but the frustration of other people deciding what he could or could not do based solely on the fact that he was “normal.” He also knew what it was like to feel trapped in situations he had never chosen.

Still, that did not mean he should go outside during a typhoon.

“Feeling that way doesn’t mean we should do it,” he replied.

Junko glanced sideways at him.

“What a responsible answer.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I figured.”

Makoto held out a hand toward her.

“Come on. Let’s go back, find another broom, and finish quickly. Afterward, we can find something less dangerous to do.”

Junko looked at his hand.

For an instant, she seemed to consider the offer.

Then she smiled.

“No.”

She pulled the handle.

The door opened only a few inches before a brutal gust shoved it inward.

Wind burst into the lobby, scattering papers, leaves, and dust. Makoto had to cover his face.

“Junko!”

She slipped through the opening before he could stop her.

“Freedom!”

“Are you insane?!”

“Probably!”

Junko ran out into the rain.

Makoto grabbed the door to keep it from slamming into the wall. The wind pulled at it with such force that he could barely hold it open.

“Junko, get back here!”

The girl spun around in the middle of the courtyard, spreading her arms as the rain soaked her hair and clothes.

“I can’t hear you!”

“You know perfectly well you can hear me!”

“Then you should shout louder!”

Makoto looked back into the dormitory.

Then he looked outside again.

He could close the door. He could find a teacher. He could ask for help.

That would have been the sensible thing to do.

It would also mean leaving Junko alone for several minutes in the middle of a typhoon.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this...”

Makoto stepped outside.

The wind hit him immediately.

He felt the air vanish from his lungs. The rain lashed his face, and in less than five seconds his uniform was completely soaked.

The door slammed shut behind him.

“Junko!”

She was already several meters away, moving along the path that connected the dormitory to the gardens.

“Come on, Naegi!” she shouted without turning around. “Try to keep up!”

“I’m not trying to keep up! I’m trying to bring you back!”

Makoto took one step and his shoe sank into a puddle almost to the ankle.

“Great!”

The icy water soaked through his socks.

Junko burst out laughing.

“Your luck never disappoints!”

“This isn’t the time!”

A sideways gust shoved Makoto. He managed to keep his balance by grabbing a railing, but then saw an empty flowerpot rolling straight toward him.

He jumped aside.

The pot passed beside him and smashed into a bench.

Makoto stared at the pieces.

“Definitely not the time...”

Junko kept moving forward.

Her silhouette appeared and disappeared behind curtains of rain.

Makoto clenched his teeth and went after her.

Every part of his body told him to turn back. Every creaking branch, every flash of lightning, and every gust reinforced the same thought.

This was stupid.

Junko was doing something stupid.

He was also doing something stupid by following her.

He should stop.

He should think this through more carefully.

And yet his legs kept moving.

Junko’s voice cut through the wind, calling to him, provoking him, pulling him forward.

Makoto knew he was not drawn to danger.

Nor was he trying to prove anything.

He could only imagine her tripping, being struck by a branch, or getting lost in the rain.

And even though Junko was irritating, capricious, and impossible to control, he could not abandon her.

“Junko!”

There was no answer.

Makoto quickened his pace.

“Junko Enoshima!”

A shadow appeared in front of him.

“Here I am!”

“Wha—?!”

Junko burst out from behind a bush and threw herself at him.

Makoto barely had time to open his arms before catching her. The impact made him stagger backward several steps, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Junko wrapped both arms tightly around his neck.

“You came!”

“Of course I came!” Makoto replied, trying to catch his breath. “I couldn’t leave you out here alone!”

“That’s fantastic!”

“No, it isn’t!”

Junko laughed beside his ear.

Her laughter did not sound fake. It was loud, euphoric, and almost childlike.

“I knew you were strange, Naegi, but I didn’t think you were this kind of strange.”

“You’re the one who went outside during a typhoon!”

“Yes, but I know I’m crazy. You pretend you’re normal.”

Junko pulled back slightly, though she kept her hands resting on his shoulders.

Makoto looked at her, rainwater covering his face.

“I am normal.”

“Normal people don’t chase troublesome girls through natural disasters.”

“Normal people also don’t leave someone in danger when they can help.”

“That isn’t normal. That’s concerning.”

Makoto blinked.

“Now you’re worried about me?”

“No. I am making an objective assessment of your complete lack of survival instinct.”

Another gust struck the garden.

Junko lost her balance for a moment.

Makoto caught her by the arms.

“We need to find shelter.”

“Don’t you want to keep running?”

“No!”

“What a spoilsport.”

“We’re surrounded by water. I don’t think I need to ruin the fun too.”

Junko burst out laughing.

Makoto spotted a large tree near the path. It was not a safe shelter, but there was a low wall on the other side that blocked part of the wind.

“Over there.”

He took Junko by the wrist and started moving.

She looked at his hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Look at that. Naegi is finally taking the initiative.”

“I’m only trying to keep us from being blown away.”

“How romantic.”

“Don’t say that!”

They reached the wall beside the tree. The structure reduced some of the wind’s force, though rain continued pouring down on them.

Makoto braced one hand against the wall and took a deep breath.

Junko settled beside the trunk as though she were enjoying a sunny afternoon.

“This is much better.”

“Better than being dry and safe?”

“Much better.”

“I don’t understand how your mind works.”

“That’s part of my charm.”

Makoto brushed the wet hair away from his forehead.

“We need to go back before something happens.”

“Something already happened.”

“What?”

Junko pointed at her soaked clothes.

“My jacket is probably ruined. It was expensive.”

“You chose to come outside.”

“And now I’m experiencing the consequences of my actions. How exciting.”

“You don’t seem particularly sorry.”

“Regret is boring when it arrives too soon.”

Makoto shook his head.

“Not everything has to be fun.”

Junko went still.

The wind shook the branches above them.

“Why not?”

The question sounded different.

It was not an obvious provocation. Nor was it a joke.

Makoto looked at her.

Junko kept her eyes fixed on the storm.

“Because some things matter even when they aren’t fun,” he replied. “Keeping a promise, helping someone, doing the right thing... Sometimes those things are difficult or boring, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing.”

Junko grimaced.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Sometimes it is.”

“And you still do it?”

“I try to.”

“Why?”

Makoto took a moment to answer.

“Because afterward, I might regret not doing it.”

Junko turned toward him.

Makoto pointed in the direction of the dormitory.

“I could have stayed inside. I could have gone for help and waited for someone to come. It would have been safer.”

“But you followed me.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you knew it was a bad idea.”

“Yes.”

“Even though I was the one who decided to go outside.”

“Yes.”

Junko stepped closer.

“Why?”

Makoto held her gaze.

“Because you were still in danger.”

Junko’s smile slowly disappeared.

For a moment, she did not answer.

Makoto could not interpret her expression.

She did not look moved, exactly. Nor did she look annoyed. It was as though she had just discovered an unexpected piece inside an object she thought she understood.

“What a stupid answer,” she murmured.

Makoto lowered his head slightly.

“Probably.”

“You should have said you followed me because I’m irresistible.”

“That wouldn’t have been true.”

Junko’s eyes widened.

Makoto hurried to correct himself.

“I don’t mean you aren’t attractive! Obviously you’re very pretty, you’re the Ultimate Fashionista and you appear in magazines, but that wasn’t what I meant, and I think I’m making this worse!”

Junko stared at him for two seconds.

Then she burst into laughter.

Makoto covered his face.

“Forget everything I just said.”

“Impossible! I’m going to remember that expression for years.”

“That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

Junko was still laughing when a violent crack sounded above their heads.

Makoto looked up.

One of the tree’s largest branches bent beneath the force of the wind.

“Junko, move.”

“What?”

“Move!”

The branch snapped.

Makoto had no time to think.

He threw himself at Junko, wrapped his arms around her, and shoved her to the ground behind the wall.

The branch crashed down where they had been standing a second earlier.

The impact sent water and splinters of wood flying.

Makoto remained bent over Junko, protecting her head with one arm.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

The typhoon continued roaring around them.

Junko was the first to break the silence.

“Wow.”

Makoto slowly opened his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

He carefully moved away.

“Did it hit you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Makoto ignored the comment and quickly checked her arms and shoulders for injuries.

Junko allowed him to do it.

“You’re bleeding,” she finally said.

Makoto looked at his hand.

A splinter had made a shallow cut near his wrist.

“It’s nothing.”

“You just threw yourself over me to protect me from a branch.”

“I didn’t have time to think.”

“That’s the interesting part.”

Junko slowly sat up.

Her wet hair clung to her face, but her eyes shone with a strange intensity.

Makoto stood as well.

“Now we’re going back.”

“Are you giving me an order?”

“Yes.”

Junko raised an eyebrow.

Makoto was surprised by his own words, but he did not back down.

“You can make fun of me afterward. Right now, we’re going back to the dormitories.”

She watched him in silence.

Then she raised both hands.

“All right, boss.”

“I’m not your boss.”

“Then stop sounding so bossy.”

“You forced me to.”

“Oh, no. Have I corrupted poor, innocent Makoto Naegi?”

“Just walk.”

Junko began moving beside him.

This time, she did not try to run.

Makoto stayed on the side most exposed to the wind, alert for anything that might come flying toward them. Every so often, he looked at Junko to make sure she was still there.

She noticed after the fourth time.

“I’m not going to disappear.”

“With you, you never know.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You’re learning.”

They walked several meters in silence.

Then Junko spoke again.

“I didn’t expect you to follow me.”

Makoto moved a small branch out of the path.

“You already said that.”

“I thought you’d shout a little, find a teacher, and wait for me inside.”

“I considered it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“I like that.”

Makoto turned toward her.

Junko was smiling, but it was not her exaggerated model’s smile or her usual mocking smirk.

She seemed genuinely interested.

“What do you like?”

“That you know how to surprise me.”

“I wasn’t trying to surprise you.”

“That makes it better.”

Junko walked a few steps ahead of him, moving backward so she could look at him.

“At first, I wasn’t very interested in you.”

Makoto blinked.

“Thank you for the honesty.”

“You were the normal boy in the class. The Ultimate Lucky Student without an interesting story. Kind, short, polite, always willing to help... Pretty predictable.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It did to me.”

Junko spun around.

“But then I discovered there’s something strange about you.”

“My bad luck?”

“Besides that.”

She pointed at him.

“You know something is a bad idea. You know you’ll probably get hurt. You get scared, hesitate, complain... and still move forward.”

Makoto lowered his gaze.

“Not always.”

“Often enough.”

“Only when someone needs help.”

“Exactly.”

Junko smiled.

“That’s the strange part.”

Makoto did not know how to respond.

He did not consider what he had done to be anything special. Anyone else would have tried to stop her. Sakura, Mondo, Ishimaru, or Mukuro probably could have brought her back much more easily.

He had simply been the person who was there.

“I think you’re exaggerating again.”

“Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

A gust shoved Junko to one side.

Makoto caught her hand before she could slip.

She lowered her gaze to their intertwined fingers.

“You’re still holding me.”

Makoto released her immediately.

“Sorry!”

“I didn’t say it bothered me.”

“I thought you were going to fall.”

“And you heroically saved me.”

“I only helped you keep your balance.”

“How humble.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Boring.”

Makoto let out a sigh.

“Why does everything have to become some spectacular story with you?”

Junko extended one arm toward the storm.

“Because look at this. The world is trying to rip the trees from the ground, the sky looks ready to split in two, and we’re walking through it like a pair of lunatics.”

Makoto nearly stumbled.

“A pair of what?”

“A pair of lunatics.”

“You mean a pair as in partners, right?”

Junko glanced sideways at him.

“What other kind of pair could I mean?”

“I-I don’t know. You said it in a strange way.”

“Maybe you interpreted it in a strange way.”

“I didn’t.”

“You turned red.”

“It’s because of the wind!”

“Of course. The famous romantic wind.”

Makoto covered part of his face with one hand.

“It’s impossible to have a normal conversation with you.”

“And why would you want anything normal?”

Junko moved closer until she was walking beside him.

“Admit it, Naegi. We make a good team.”

“You broke a broom, disobeyed a direct order, went outside during a typhoon, and nearly got us crushed by a branch.”

“And you followed me.”

“To bring you back.”

“Details.”

“They are important details.”

“You’re the responsible one, and I’m the fun.”

“You’re the problem, and I’m the person trying to stop the problem from getting worse.”

“That still sounds like a team.”

Makoto opened his mouth to argue.

Then he closed it.

Junko smiled triumphantly.

“See? A pair of crazies.”

“I didn’t agree to that name.”

“You don’t need to. It’s already been decided.”

“Decided by whom?”

“By me.”

“That isn’t how it works.”

“It worked with the broom.”

Makoto looked back toward the tree and the fallen branch.

“When we get back, they’ll probably punish us.”

“That will be our future selves’ problem.”

“Our future selves are less than five minutes away.”

“Then they don’t have much time to prepare.”

As they approached the dormitories, Makoto managed to make out several figures behind the glass doors.

Someone had seen them.

Probably the entire building had seen them.

Ishimaru appeared to be shouting behind the glass. Mondo was trying to open one of the doors while Sakura helped him hold it. Mukuro stood beside them with an expression that was difficult to interpret.

Makoto felt his stomach sink.

“We’re in trouble.”

“We’re making memories.”

“Memories that will include punishment.”

“The best ones usually do.”

When they reached the entrance, the door opened.

Mondo grabbed Makoto by the arm and dragged him inside. Sakura did the same with Junko.

The change from the roar outside to the relative quiet of the lobby was overwhelming.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” Ishimaru shouted.

Makoto was breathing hard, soaked from head to toe.

“I’m sorry. I was only trying to—”

“Naegi kidnapped me,” Junko declared.

Makoto spun toward her.

“What?!”

“He forced me to go outside. It was terrifying.”

“You broke the broom and went out by yourself!”

“He’s delirious from hypothermia.”

“Junko!”

She gave him a shameless smile.

Mukuro approached and placed a towel over her sister’s shoulders.

Then she looked at the cut on Makoto’s wrist.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s only a scratch.”

Junko leaned toward Mukuro.

“He threw himself over me to protect me from a tree.”

Makoto blushed.

“It was a branch.”

“A huge and deadly branch.”

“It wasn’t that serious.”

“It was pretty impressive,” Junko replied.

Mukuro looked at Makoto for several seconds.

“I see.”

Makoto did not know why those two words sounded so unsettling.

Ishimaru continued talking about regulations, safety, and irresponsible behavior. Makoto tried to apologize, though Junko interrupted him every few seconds to add increasingly exaggerated details about their “adventure.”

Eventually, while the others argued, Junko approached Makoto.

“Hey, partner.”

“Don’t call me that again.”

“Partner in madness?”

“Even less.”

Junko lowered her voice.

“It was fun.”

Makoto looked at her in disbelief.

“A tree nearly hit us.”

“That’s why it was fun.”

“I really don’t understand you.”

“You don’t need to understand me yet.”

That final word made Makoto frown.

“Yet?”

Junko smiled.

Then she held out her fist toward him.

“Our first adventure as a pair of crazies.”

Makoto looked at her hand.

“There won’t be a second one.”

“Of course there will.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Definitely not.”

“That’s what you said before you followed me.”

Makoto tried to find an answer.

He could not.

Junko shook her fist in front of him.

With a resigned sigh, Makoto lightly bumped his knuckles against hers.

“Only because I want you to stop insisting.”

“Whatever helps you sleep tonight.”

Junko walked away laughing, still wrapped in the towel.

Makoto watched her leave.

He remained convinced that going outside had been a terrible idea. He had disobeyed instructions, put himself in danger, and would probably receive a punishment far worse than cleaning the entrance.

But when he remembered Junko hugging him in the middle of the storm, laughing with a joy that did not seem fake, he felt something strange.

Not pride.

Not excitement either.

More like relief.

He had managed to bring her back.

That was enough.

Junko stopped at the end of the hallway and turned toward him.

“Naegi!”

Makoto raised his head.

“What?”

“Next time, we’ll choose a calmer natural disaster!”

“There won’t be a next time!”

Junko answered with a laugh before disappearing down the hallway.

Makoto remained there, watching her for several seconds.

Then he lowered his gaze to his soaked clothes, his injured wrist, and the puddle forming beneath his feet.

“A pair of crazies...” he murmured.

He sighed deeply.

“This is definitely the worst luck possible.”

Junko’s voice came from somewhere down the corridor:

“I heard that!”

And despite everything, Makoto could not help smiling.