Notes: I held off on posting this first chapter until I had seen Hope, as it was more or less done a day or two before. I did not expect the two to match up even remotely, and they really didn't. But I did want to see what direction Hajime would go in, and I'm glad to see we agreed on a great deal, but not everything. Which is exactly what I hoped for. So this story should in no way be considered an angry response to what happened in canon, as is often the case with me. I was very pleased with the ending. Instead, consider this a not as hope-filled ending. Because I am truly amazed we got as much hope as we did out of a series that birthed Junko Enoshima.

(I realize this dedication is outdated now, but I decided to leave it as is.)

For Chiaki and Kyoko. Their only sin was being cute while lacking main protagonist plot armor.
And on that note... please don't die for real, Aoi. You better be sleeping off that gunshot. And if Yuta calls, tell him you'll get back to him later. Much, much later. After your family name is Naegi and you've had six babies under the watchful eye of the Ultimate Obstetrician later.
And Kyoko, if you're only sleeping: not cool.

Despair for the Hopeful

A Danganronpa Fanfic by

Nate Grey, Ultimate Procrastinator (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)
Chapter 1: Dark into Light

Don't do it... (crash)
Don't do it... (smash)
Don't do it... (bash)
Don't do it... (thrash)

Don't ever give up (you're close)
Don't ever give in (you're strong)
Don't ever give out (you're right)
Don't ever give in (they're wrong)

Just dance! (despair) And dance! (despair)
And drown the world in your black magic!
Your chance! (burn it) At last! (break it)
Show the world the joys of Ultimate Tragic!

Caught between the warring noises of the blaring speakers behind her, and the roaring crowd before her, Mioda Ibuki's mouth split in a grin full of mad delight. She was totally in her element.

People had always responded to her music. Nothing less could be expected of an Ultimate Musician. But it was so very different now. People did not simply respond to her music anymore. They obeyed it, craved it, were nourished by it. With every note, a new ear fell under her spell, and a new soul sank into her own personal brand of despair.

And even if some people did manage to resist Ibuki's music, they could not do so for very long. The reason for this abruptly sashayed into Ibuki's personal space, a whirl of hips and perfume and sin, her devilish smile and matching wink momentarily stealing Ibuki's breath and interrupting the song.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered on the stage was Saionji Hiyoko.

Not a single person in the crowd blamed Ibuki or minded, because they were also enchanted by this wondrous woman and her dark dance of despair. But for Ibuki, the impact was ten times more potent. Because each time those hips gyrated, Ibuki could feel them grinding against her own. Each time those lips formed a sexy smirk, she could still taste them. Each time Hiyoko so much as looked her way with intent to thrill, Ibuki recalled those frenzied moments beneath the sheets: twisted up with men, with women, with toys, with animals, with each other.

No one had ordered them to work together. No one had needed to. The natural pairing of their talents was obvious from the start, and they had simply gravitated to each other as if Junko herself had willed it. And perhaps, on some level, she had. When Ibuki set out on the road, Hiyoko went with her, no questions needed or asked, and neither one had looked back for even an instant.

Suddenly, Ibuki gasped in pain as a hand twisted into her hair and yanked her head down. She could see nothing but Hiyoko's snarling face.

"I didn't tell you to stop playing, you overflowing pile of sweaty pig-barf," Hiyoko growled.

"And I didn't tell you to stop dancing, you midget whore," Ibuki spat, their foreheads knocking together as she glared right back.

For a moment, it looked as if they would tear each other apart right there onstage.

Ibuki broke first, unable to ignore the heady scent of perfume and sweat at such close range, and flicked her tongue across Hiyoko's lips. "The next time I untie that kimono, it's staying untied for at least a week."

"You say that like it's supposed to be a threat, and not the treat that it is," Hiyoko purred, nipping at Ibuki's chin. Then she bumped Ibuki's hip hard with her own. "Try and play something worthy of me this time, you tone-deaf cow."

Ibuki grunted. "Whatever, you teeny-tiny tramp."

But as they turned away from each other, both young women wore matching smiles: of delight, of desire, of deepest despair that their love, if it could accurately be called that, only existed in this form, in this way, in this time. Under any other circumstances, they would be friends and nothing more. Lifelong friends, to be certain, but never anything else.

Both would have preferred death, rather than life with the memory of that loss.

As Ibuki began to play again, she made a wish: that they would always be together, whether in despair or death.

Fortunately for her, if Wish-Granting had ever been a recognized talent, then she had already placed her fate in the hands of a man who could and would make it come true.

"I need another reason."

Naegi Makoto looked up from the electronic notebook in his hands, gazing into the frowning face of his closest friend. "Excuse me?"

"I need another reason," Kirigiri Kyoko repeated firmly. "I said I wouldn't support or stop you, and I won't. But I still feel that you're walking into this with blinders on. So any other reason you can give me for this decision, beyond what you have so far, would be much appreciated. If not as your boss, then at least as your friend."

Makoto smiled faintly. "You can't just believe in me again?" he asked.

She glared at him. "I do believe in you. I can't say the same for them."

"I'm not surprised you can't see it, but I'm still a little disappointed that you don't." Makoto tapped his notebook's screen once, and then handed it to her. "Look through them one more time, and tell me if anything leaps out at you."

Kyoko grimaced as she looked at the three pictures on the screen. Each showed Remnants of Despair in various acts of terrorism. "I've seen these before, as you well know. I see nothing new."

Makoto sighed. "They're in pairs. That isn't always the case, but it is here."

"And why should that convince you to save them?"

Makoto reached over and tapped the screen. Three new pictures replaced the former ones, but at glance, Kyoko could tell that they were the same people, younger and untainted by despair, in the exact same pairings.

"Where did you get these?" Kyoko asked.

"The Ultimate Archivist owed me a favor, and she managed to save some files from Hope's Peak Academy before everything went wrong."

"I still don't understand. Their friendships survived all this time. What does that matter? They still joined Ultimate Despair. Even Enoshima claimed to love her twin, and that didn't stop her from murdering Ikusaba twice."

"I know. I can even remember those two hanging out a lot at school. There's no doubt they were close. But there's a big difference between these two, and the Remnants. As far as we know, none of the Remnants have turned on each other yet."

"And because of that, you see hope in them?"

"They at least aren't as far gone as Enoshima was. She didn't hesitate to betray. But these bonds are different, I think. No, I know they are. And I want to do something about them before they do end up like Enoshima's. I want to save these guys before they reach the point where they think nothing of betraying each other. These bonds, strong enough to survive such deep despair, should and must be protected. It may just end up being the only thing that can restore them to what they were before being swallowed by despair."

"That sounds like blind hope to me," Kyoko said with a sigh. "But blind hope is still hope, I suppose. Though you're putting a lot of faith in the New World program. Some might say too much."

Makoto smiled. "I have to believe, though. That's my talent, right? It's true we don't know anyone who was saved this way. So these guys will just have to be the first."

For the third time in ten minutes, Tsumiki Mikan checked her patient's pulse. Not out of any real fear, but because there was nothing else to do. So far, the Despair Disease had proven largely resistant to her efforts to combat it.

Mikan assumed this was because it was a difficult disease to treat, even for an Ultimate Nurse. But lately, she had begun to think that maybe she simply wasn't trying her hardest.

And for some reason, Mikan was having trouble finding any motivation to try at all.

The reason for that was unclear. At least, it was until Mikan looked up to find two other women in the hospital room. She had not heard them enter, and was fairly sure they had made no sound at all while doing so. If she had not recognized them instantly, she would have been alarmed. But as she did recognize them instantly, the only thing she felt was overwhelming joy. Not mere happiness, but drool-inducing, pants-wetting, truly orgasmic joy.

Mikan felt all three, to varying degrees, and could not at first express her feelings.

"You aren't even going to greet me properly, Mikan-chan?" the first woman asked, adding a fake sigh for effect. "That makes me sad."

"No!" Mikan cried in horror, rushing toward her. "Please don't be sad!"

The second woman, who had been behind the first, blurred into movement, neatly tripping Mikan with her foot so that she landed inches from the first woman's boot.

"No touching without permission," the second woman said sternly.

Mikan stared pathetically up at the first woman, who eventually nodded, giving Mikan the honor of tenderly kissing her boot. "Junko-sama," Mikan murmured. "Mukuro-san. Please forgive me for-"

Junko drove her boot hard into Mikan's face. "I said greet me, not her."

Mikan stared up at her with a dazed expression. "I'm so sorry! I thought you'd be offended if I failed to greet your beloved sister!"

Mukuro didn't even have to glance at Junko for permission to kick Mikan in the ribs. "Who said I was beloved, or needed a greeting?"

Junko shook her head sadly. "We've been separated for so long that you've forgotten my preferences, Mikan-chan. But that's okay. I don't mind training you until you're back to my liking again."

"Thank you so much, Junko-sama!" Mikan gushed, drooling a mixture of saliva and blood on the floor.

Though she perhaps should have been disgusted by the sight, Junko grinned her signature evil smile. "I need you to do something for me, Mikan-chan. You'll help me out, won't you?"

"Of course!" Mikan cried at once. "Anything for you!"

At Junko's nod, Mukuro hauled Mikan to her feet and dusted her off. "Well then, listen up." Junko leaned forward, placing a finger beneath Mikan's chin and raising her head. "This isn't real."

Mikan stared at her, clearly not understanding.

"You're asleep right now, and this is a virtual world. The Future Foundation caught you guys and stuck you all in here, in a misguided attempt to save you. But they're playing right into our trap. And that's where you come in, Mikan-chan." She paused, narrowing her eyes as she took in Mikan's dreamy expression. "You do understand so far, right? You're looking a little lost."

Mikan nodded at once. "Yes, I understand. I was just wondering: am I hallucinating you? Or are you part of the virtual world?"

Junko started to answer, then smiled. "Does it really make a difference to you, Mikan-chan? Are you not going to obey me if I'm one or the other?"

Mikan shook her head rapidly. "I will always obey you, Junko-sama! Just... if you're only in my head, I should know, so I don't talk to you while others are around..."

"So your brain is working. Good, I was worried. Anyway, I'm an artificial intelligence that hitched a ride on a virus." Junko paused to slowly twirl a few strands of Mikan's hair around her finger. "I've got plans for this world, but there is just one thing I need: bodies."

The smile on Mikan's face became twisted and sinister. "I will pile their corpses at your feet," she promised softly.

Junko giggled. "I like your spunk, but that's not what I meant."

"You're going to upload yourself into our bodies," Mikan said.

Junko blinked. "So you remember the plan?"

"I'm starting to," Mikan murmured. "When I first saw you here, it all began to come back to me. I must be the only one who remembers."

"It's the Despair Disease," Mukuro explained. "It unlocked your lost memories."

Mikan's eyes teared up. "Junko-sama... you chose me, out of everyone, to remember you? Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Thank me by taking care of Ibuki here," Junko replied, pointing at the sleeping girl in the hospital bed. "In this condition, she won't give you any trouble. And even though it doesn't really matter if you get caught or not, don't make it easy for them."

Mikan nodded eagerly. "There is something you should know, Junko-sama."

Junko stared at her with a smug smile. Between the surveillance cameras and the formidable mind she was patterned after, there was precious little happening in this virtual world that she did not know. But all the same, she was curious as to what Mikan actually thought might be hidden from her.

Mikan moved closer, well into Junko's personal space, and brought her lips to Junko's ear. "I can't wait until you're inside me," Mikan whispered with a throaty giggle.

Junko closed her eyes and only barely resisted the urge to laugh. "Oh, I can't wait, either..."

The voice brought her back, as it had several times before.

"Good morning, Koizumi-san."

Koizumi Mahiru slowly opened her eyes, taking in the surrounding field of white, and the red eyes staring down at her. Where someone else might have found them alarming, to her they were familiar, though a little off-putting.

"Hello, Hinata-kun," she said softly.

It was very faint, but she saw it: a slight narrowing of his eyes, and a sign that things would never be the same. This person was not Hinata Hajime, was still adjusting to being called that name. But he had chosen to live as Hajime, so he was going to have to put up with it. She doubted anyone on the island would ever use the other name.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better." She paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Are we... still in the-?"

"Yes."

"Ah." Mahiru bit her lip worriedly. "My body. Is it so damaged?"

"No. Because your talent was not as physically demanding as some others, you were rarely placed in situations where you could be damaged. And you apparently had not chosen to sacrifice it to the degree that others did theirs. No, your body is not the problem. Your mind is. You know that you are not dead. I have no doubt that your body is ready to accept that as truth. But I question if your mind has accepted the whole truth. Can you prove me wrong?"

Mahiru hesitated, but knew what he wanted to hear. "My actions, and my inaction, have resulted in people dying. Their blood is on my hands. No one else is responsible but me. I can shoulder that burden now. I won't run from it. It won't be easy, but I will learn to bear it."

"Excellent." His hand appeared before her. "You're ready. Come with me."

She hesitated. "My body... will I recognize it?"

"Yes. But you will not be able to ignore it."

He had warned her, more than once, but Mahiru had not really been able to appreciate it. Not until Hajime was helping her out of the sleeping pod, and she caught a glimpse of the pod to the right of her. The person inside was a cruel parody of a human being, as if someone had tightly stretched false skin over a skeleton. But then she saw the dark hair on the head, recognized it, and very nearly vomited right there.

Poor, poor Akane. The very idea that she had willingly done this to her own body, and likely destroyed any chance of ever making use of her talent again... it was too much.

Hajime whisked Mahiru to a restroom just in time to avoid a real mess. But there the nightmare continued, as Mahiru lifted her damp face and stared into the mirror, gazing in horror at her crimson eyes. She knew, instinctively, that no matter how much joy she experienced from then on, that final, physical taint of despair would never leave her. And she would not be the only one.

"It gets better," said a soft voice behind her.

Mahiru whirled around, gasped, and then burst into happy tears as she hugged the owner of the familiar face. "Pekoyama-san!"

For Pekoyama Peko, this was awkward for many reasons, but she allowed it and hesitantly returned the hug. Mahiru seemed to become aware of this a few seconds later, and quickly let go.

"Um, sorry," Mahiru blurted out nervously.

Peko stared at her. "I was under the impression that Hinata had told you everything. As in absolutely everything."

"He did."

Peko frowned. "And you not only have no issue with hugging me, but actually apologized for it?"

"Oh. That." Mahiru hesitated, then asked, "Did you see Akane?"

Peko nodded gravely. "Unfortunately."

"I guess I'm so glad to see anyone else that doesn't look that way, I didn't think about anything else. And your eyes have always been red, so... it was a relief to see you, looking like you."

"I can understand that."

Mahiru glanced away nervously, then began to twiddle her thumbs. "So, um... should we talk about it?"

Peko grimaced. "Koizumi-san, are you actually asking me if we should discuss the circumstances of me murdering you?"

"In the virtual world," Mahiru added, in what she seemed to think was a reasonable tone.

"I do not think you fully appreciate the truth. Had I had enough information earlier, I still would have killed you in the real world."

"Oh." Mahiru was suddenly painfully aware that if there was a fight, her talent would do her no good against Peko. Especially since she wasn't even carry a camera, and of course, Peko was carry her ever-present wrapped sword.

"However," Peko went on, "I did kill you, and Fuyuhiko has come to regret his role in that. You have nothing to fear from us now. If you desire an apology, you need only ask."

"So he's okay, too? How long have you two-? Wait, didn't you used to only call him 'young master' or something? You're using his name now?"

To Mahiru's shock, Peko blushed. "Our relationship has changed. We decided to cast away our past lives. I am no longer his tool, but a woman he has chosen to stand beside."

Mahiru smiled. "That's wonderful. I'm happy for you two."

"You are, aren't you?" Peko asked. "Why? We were never really friends."

"You already changed one relationship." Mahiru offered her hand to Peko. "Maybe you can change another?"

After a pause, Peko grasped Mahiru's hand. "Maybe I can."

End of Chapter 1.

Continued in Chapter 2: Omega-77

In which Makoto has trouble mediating between the Future Foundation and Omega-77. No one will agree to meet in person, the AI representatives are rather opinionated, and Makoto would prefer to be anywhere else.

Endnotes:

I know Ibuki's songs don't look or sound anything like the one shown here. I'm a former poet and I just have to rhyme song lyrics that I write. Plus I have a hard time imagining Hiyoko being able to consistently dance to Ibuki's usual music. No other reason than that.

Much as I don't care for the... expansion of Mukuro's character, I still feel she deserved more screen time as herself. So, the Junko AI has an additional lackey.

It was a fake Makoto that told us, but clearly the Remnants of Despair damaging their own bodies was true. I expected Hajizu to restore them, but I figured there would be lasting damage. But that only seemed to apply to Fuyuhiko and Nagito. In particular I thought whoever starved themselves to skin and bones would be immediately obvious, even after they recovered. I stared at the screenshot for a while, and tried to put a face to it. The person seems to have long, dark hair. Which rules out all but one guy, because there is no way Teruteru's body could look like that. So Akane and Ibuki seem to be the more likely suspects. I feel certain the one that tried to have children with the corpse was Teruteru or Mikan, because reasons. Maybe Kazuichi if he put a Sonia mask on it.

Neat as Hajizu is, I did not expect the fusion to be so quick and clean. What you see here is more what I had in mind: Izuru trying to live as Hajime. Which is immediately noticeable to anyone that's known Hajime for any length of time.