"Hurry up, Komaru!" he hissed, his voice slightly hushed. The girl behind him fumbled with the grocery bags in her arms, and gave him a worried look. "I'm trying, Makoto," she whispered back, an apologetic look on her face. Makoto frowned slightly, a bit guilty—he was the one who asked her to come with him. Perhaps he shouldn't be so hard on her…
"It's fine," he replied, tugging on her sleeve to get her closer to him, "just… be careful. Don't get too far behind me, okay? I want to make sure you're still safe."
Komaru nodded gently, offering him an unsure smile. Makoto smiled back for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder, slowly taking in all of the sights around him. The debris in the road, stacked up to unimaginable heights—waiting for the perfect crowd to tumble down upon. The broken glass scattered everywhere, glittering in the dull light like tiny fireflies, and crunching under their feet with each careful step they took. The blood that painted the streets, staining the path they walked on with its vivid hue, like a masterpiece of chaos and discord. But this was fine by him. He was used to such sights—this didn't faze him much anymore. Not as much as it used to.
"Is the coast clear?"
With one last scan around the area, Makoto nodded, gently taking his sister's hand and dragging her beside him as the hurried down the street. Both remained silent, the only sounds they could hear being the crinkling of the paper bags filled with food, and their timid footsteps, which echoed softly in the quiet area around them.
Makoto wasn't sure what he used to think of silence—it wasn't something he looked forward to, but he didn't dread it either. But now silence unnerved him. It terrified him, because silence meant a lack of mayhem.
And a lack of mayhem meant it would be starting again soon.
That thought was what propelled him to move quicker—he squeezed Komaru's hand tighter and tried to make his strides longer. They were almost home, just three more blocks—they could make it before anything happened.
Komaru followed behind him, trying not to drop the groceries she carried as she struggled to match his pace. She chewed on the corner of her lip, then took a deep breath in an attempt to placate her fears. She trusted Makoto—he knew what to do. If she listened to him, they would both be okay. That was what she believed. That was what she needed to believe.
There had been an undeniable bond formed between the siblings ever since this outrageous life became casual for them. They had considered their previous relationship to be relatively normal to be honest. They argued a lot, they teased each other for ridiculous, petty things. They played games together and would walk to school with each other. If Komaru was sad, Makoto would cheer her up. If Makoto was sad—which Komaru was surprised how rarely that actually happened—well, she would do her best to make him smile as well. As far as either of them had been concerned, it had been comfortable between the two. Perhaps they had wished they could call their relationship something other than average—but not like this. Never did they want to grow closer under these circumstances.
Both felt rather helpless—and they relied on the other quite often. It seemed to be all they could do to survive at the time, anyway.
They kept walking, and Makoto let out the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding when he saw his mother on the porch, looking for them. Their eyes locked, and the woman let out a sigh of relief, tears filling in her eyes. Makoto and Komaru ran as quick as they could to close the rest of the distance, almost immediately being ushered into their house by their mother. The door clicked closed, and the siblings felt the woman pull them into a hug.
"I was so worried…," she murmured, burying her face in her children's hair—Makoto could feel the warm tears fall on the top of his head at an uneven pace. He felt guilty—he hadn't meant to make his mother worry so much, but then again, what did he expect? He knew she would refuse to let him and his sister out of the house if they outright said they were leaving by themselves. But he didn't want his mother to risk going out by herself either. His father was still away at work—he wouldn't have been back for another hour or so. And they needed food to cook for dinner—as they had nothing at the time. It had seemed like a nice gesture to go out and get the stuff for her—in any other circumstance, she would have appreciated it. But now, he realized, that wasn't the same case. Her two children suddenly disappeared, and she was all alone, unsure of what was happening to them in the world outside. If the way she was trembling as she held them close, like they were a lifeline, was anything to go by—the ideas she had of what happened to cause their disappearance wasn't pleasant in any way.
And Makoto wanted to kick himself for causing that.
"I'm sorry, mom," he said quietly, leaning into her embrace as if to reassure her that he was still alright. Komaru did the same—her head nestled in the crook of the woman's neck, eyes closed and teary. His mother held them closer for a moment longer, then pulled away, wiping away the tears from her eyes—but Makoto realized the gesture was futile because the tears just kept coming. Had he really had her that scared? He felt awful.
"Don't you ever leave like that again, do you understand?" she hissed, her voice stern, yet laced with fear. She sounded angry, but Makoto knew she wasn't entirely furious—she was just terrified.
The siblings nodded, but she continued. "I was absolutely capable of getting food for us myself. There was no reason for you two to risk your lives instead…"
Makoto opened his mouth to speak—to protest that she shouldn't have to risk her life every time either—but she cut him off. "No, Makoto. I am an adult, and your mother. It is my job to take care of you kids… I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to either of you."
And after those words left her lips, she pulled them into another hug, her paranoia-driven anger dissipating as quickly as it came. Makoto returned it without hesitation, shifting the bag in his hold so he could curl his arm around her as well.
"Your dad will be home soon," she said, "so help me put the groceries away in the meantime, please."
Kyoko didn't want to admit it.
She had started this group—this resistance against despair soon after this tragedy had begun—in an attempt to try and stop her. When this all began two years ago, everyone was ready. They weren't the bravest or the strongest, but they were willing. That was what she needed.
She and her group were fighting to reverse any damage done to the world, to try and preserve hope, and stop the madwoman who started all of this.
But she didn't want to admit that she was losing miserably.
Even her own resistance didn't have much fight left in them. They were caving in to the despair—less and less did they see reason to rise above it. Kyoko was watching them sink into their own despair—watching their hopes start to slip from their grasp, and watching how they didn't even have the will left to reach out for it anymore.
She didn't want to admit they were losing the battle. But even less so did she want to admit she couldn't do anything about her teammates giving up.
She tried talking to them about it, she tried to raise their spirits and convince them that it would end well if they just tried. Kyoko found that was just as helpful as punching a brick wall to try and get past it.
They didn't believe any of it.
She sat in her chair by the window, waiting for the three to return. She had sent Aoi, Byakuya, and Hotaru out for supplies they would need, and they should have been returning any moment now. Should have being the keywords, she supposed, as they were nowhere in sight.
The group mumbled around her, expressing different ideas of what was taking them so long. Kyoko could almost see the anxiety in the room—and she narrowed her eyes. They were getting nowhere with this.
"If we give up, we surely will die. That's why we have to keep fighting at the very least."
Nobody said a word. The silence was almost suffocating them by the point someone finally spoke up. Kyoko didn't even look Leon in the eyes as he rasped out, "You're kidding, right?"
"What reason would I have to joke around with something this serious?"
Leon ran a hand through his hair, the once bright red now faded to a dull, rusty color. His eyes were intense though, full of emotions that Kyoko wasn't sure she recognized. "How the hell should I know, Kyoko? You… you just…! This is stupid as hell and you know it! Keep fighting? Fighting for what?"
"Salvation. Hope. Freedom. Choose your reason, if it gets us to the same end result."
Leon let out a bitter chuckle, putting his head in his hands and leaning on the table. Touko—who was sitting next to him, her pen scribbling down random spells in a little leather notebook—glanced between him and Kyoko a few times before opening her mouth. Kyoko briefly wondered whose side she was on in the argument, but with a tired huff Touko closed her mouth, continuing to write down the words Kyoko would never truly understand.
"S-sometimes…," Chihiro whispered, her voice timid and almost broken, "I wonder… why are we even fighting?"
She let out a little squeak, as if she was afraid of being scolded. No one said a word, so she continued carefully. "I-It's just… t-thinking about it, i-it seems… pointless? I-I mean, it just… i-it's all so—,"
"We know what you mean, Chi," Haku said wistfully, his expression almost numb. The ginger haired boy shuffled the cards in his hand, pausing for a moment as he let his finger gently run across the edge of the deck. He was silent, then clenched his fist as tight as he could, opening it up to reveal a card, folded neatly in half. It was a practiced routine, something the boy could do without truly realizing he was, and Kyoko wondered if he was merely bored and trying to occupy his time, or using those kinds of smoke and mirror tricks to cope with his unease.
Haku let the folded card drop unceremoniously on the table, his expression troubled. From the seat next to him, Celeste picked up the card like it was something delicate, unfolding it to see what it was. She stared it for a moment, seemingly musing over the identity, then placed it down face up on the table.
The seven of hearts.
Oh, he was still worried about Tomoyo.
Kyoko's mouth twitched into a frown for a moment, before she quickly went back to her usual blank mask. Celeste said nothing about the card he chose, instead placing her hands in her lap, her fingers winding their way around the button-eyed doll that lay limply in her grasp. For a moment, the lavender haired detective wondered why Hotaru left Molly behind, but figured it was for the doll's safe-keeping and left it at that. It wasn't like she would ever understand why the seamstress did the things she did, anyway. Kyoko knew she would likely drive herself mad before she could ever comprehend the other girl's actions.
No one moved after that, the atmosphere dreary and depressing. Kyoko almost swore she could see the darkness of despair seeping into the room—swallowing her teammates whole. The quiet was almost painful—Kyoko scanned around the room, then spoke again.
"Really, what will we achieve by giving up?"
"What will we achieve by still fighting?" Aiko retorted, reaching out for her girlfriend's hand the moment the words passed her lips. Mitsuki obliged almost immediately, lacing her fingers in with the blonde girl's own, and gently squeezing her hand to reassure her of something.
Kyoko made note of how Aiko changed the subject, but chose not to bring it up yet. "If we fight, we won't succumb to her despair. If we fight, we won't be victims to her cause."
"No, you're right," Leon spat, "we won't be victims to her cause. We'll just get ourselves killed for nothing, right?"
"It won't be for nothing if we—,"
"Kyoko," Mitsuki started, her hand still grasping Aiko's, "I understand what you're trying to say. I mean, we all do… but really. It's been two years now, and if anything has changed, it's been for the worse."
Yasuhiro chewed on the corner of his lip momentarily before adding in, "All we're doing is just taking a longer trip to get to the end, right!?"
Kyoko glared briefly—then recomposed herself. "No, we're not. The only way we're going to die for sure is if we give up."
"Y-you can't be s-sure of that…!" Touko murmured, digging her nails into her scalp. "I-I bet one of t-t-these days, w-we're just gonna get s-so close to victory and then we're a-all gonna die. Just like that, r-right?"
"That does sound like something she would do," Celeste mused, a sweet smile on her face. Sometimes Kyoko hated that expression dearly—especially because she knew it was false and it just proceeded to mock her. Celeste rested her chin on the backs of her hands before continuing, "After all, she wants to cause the greatest despair she can, does she not?"
"S-so that's it then!" Yasuhiro stammered, "we're only getting our hopes up by fighting! That's her plan, isn't it? She wants us to have high hopes so we—,"
"No, that's not—,"
Kyoko didn't get to finish her protest before Haku chimed in, "Even if it isn't her grand plan, we all know damn well it would happen, right?"
"That might be true, but—,"
"S-see!? Y-you can't e-e-even deny it!"
Kyoko sent the author a brief, scolding look—she was getting tired of getting cut off. The others were getting riled up now, and Kyoko contemplated ways she could calm them. Or, at least try to. She was smart, and she could read people well. She could find facts and reason flawlessly. Yet why was it so damn hard to convince a group of teenagers—no older than she was—to not give up so easily?
They didn't see things the way she did. And she wasn't exactly sure of how to fix that.
At the very least, the discord died down when Byakuya slammed the door open and walked in, followed quickly by Aoi and Hotaru. The girls were carrying multiple bags of supplies—food, clothes, any immediate necessities—while Byakuya simply carried one bag in each hand.
"Y'know, you could have helped a little more," Aoi said, glaring disapprovingly at the heir. He huffed, and looked back at the swimmer with an impassive expression. He said nothing, merely placed the bags down on the table in the corner and sat down in an empty chair with his book—placing himself a noticeable distance from Touko.
Hotaru—who had been silent since arriving—set the bags down wordlessly next to where Byakuya dropped his, and marched over to Celeste. The gambler gave her a smile, and gingerly picked the doll up from out of her lap, handing it to the bluenette. Hotaru grabbed it quickly, muttering out a quiet thanks to her and hugging the small toy close to her chest. Kyoko recalled the emotional attachment Hotaru had to the doll, and decided it was best not to comment. Molly hugged back—at least, that's what Kyoko assumed the enchanted doll was doing. It was hard to tell, but it wasn't like it mattered much.
"You didn't run into too much trouble, right?" Kyoko asked, looking between the three of them.
Aoi shrugged, "We were fine. Nobody was really out today—and the stores weren't busy. We managed to get in and out fast."
"Then what took you so long to return?"
"Precaution," Byakuya said—flipping the page of his book. "With the riots just yesterday, we wanted to be absolutely sure no one was tailing us. For all we know, the Ultimate Despair is still in this town."
Kyoko nodded, then stood up, brushing off her skirt. "In that case… if you'll excuse me, I need some fresh air. I'll be back in an hour."
She waited for some form of acknowledgment from someone, before sighing. "Celeste, please keep things organized while I'm gone."
A soft giggle and a nod was all she received from the gambler—but she expected nothing more, in all honesty. Turning on her heel, Kyoko walked to the door, and left the base without another word.
At the very least, his mother seemed pleased with what he and his sister bought. The shelves weren't stacked anywhere close to full at the store, so the siblings had to make do with whatever they could grab. In the end, it was mostly fruits of a few varieties, loaves of bread, and cans of soup—but it appeared to be good enough for the time being.
Makoto's father had arrived home around the time they had just finished putting everything away. He greeted them each with a smile and a hug—Makoto wasn't sure if the smile was real, but he appreciated the effort either way. Even if the world around him was falling apart—seeing the people around him smile was practically therapeutic for him. It reminded him of why he kept going and why he kept pushing through every obstacle life threw at him.
Makoto leaned back on the couch, listening to the sounds around him. His parents were in the kitchen cooking dinner, and his sister was sitting in a chair beside him, rereading her favorite manga, and making soft squeals or gasps when she skimmed over her favorite parts of the story. Makoto wondered what scene she had gotten up to when she started to stifle a giggling fit—but he smiled at her reaction either way. For a moment, he could almost forget the tragedy going on just outside his door. He could—for just the smallest bit of time—pretend that this was any casual weekend when he and his family would be eating their dinner in front of the TV, whatever decent show that was scheduled playing in the background. All of those simple things he sort of overlooked.
It was strange to think that everything he missed was still there just two years ago. It felt like it had been decades—yet sometimes, it also felt like it was just yesterday. In the end, Makoto only knew of the current situation—which was that around two years ago, Junko Enoshima brought the world to ruins.
The most spectacular thing about that was that it was almost overnight. One day, the world was happy. Makoto was about to start his freshman year of high school, learning about algebraic expressions and essay writing. He was spending his afternoons with his friends, playing games and joking around with each other. And his weekends would be spent with his family, bonding over simple pleasures like TV dinners or a board game that they would all play. It was what he used to describe as a normal life.
And then, it was almost like the very next day, normal life was redefined.
In the beginning, he wondered if Junko was a magic user herself. He wondered what kind of magic she wielded—was she an elemental? Those were the most common kind after all. Or an enchantress even—that might explain all of those odd little plush bears she would have running around, like they were her very own army. She might have been gifted with using spells or potions as well—then again, anyone could be good with those. He remembered that one boy from junior high—who was born without magic, but could speak the language of spells as if it was the easiest thing to do. Could it be the same for Junko?
Though he was sure it didn't matter what magic she herself possessed—in the end, her group of followers had magic users of all kinds within. Each one was loyal to the end, willing to use their gift to destroy for her—which is what they had spent the past two years doing.
Still…
His head shot up when he heard knocking at the door—the noise startling him out of his memories. From the corner of his eye, he saw Komaru look up as well, wearing an expression of unease. Makoto supposed he would have felt the same, although the knock on the door was in a distinct tempo. Like a song.
Wait, it was a song, wasn't it?
Makoto bolted up from his seat on the couch and ran over to the door, unlocking it to let his friend in. Sayaka's eyes widened, obviously not expecting him to answer so quickly, but she seemed thankful to see him nonetheless.
They both stood there for a moment, smiling at each other, before Sayaka cleared her throat gently.
"… Can I come in?"
"O-oh! Right, of course!" Makoto chuckled, stepping to the side to let the idol enter his house. Komaru smiled, waving happily at the navy haired teen. "Hi, Sayaka!" Sayaka merely stayed still for a moment, looking slightly dazed. Makoto paused, about to question, before the idol quickly blinked and looked over at his sister. Sayaka smiled, waving back at Komaru. "Hello, Komaru. It's nice to see you again," she said, stepping forward as Makoto closed the door behind her. His father had walked into the room at that point, looking at the idol briefly, before smiling. "Good to see you, Sayaka," he said, nodding towards the girl. She smiled back kindly, nodding to him as well. "Likewise, Mr. Naegi."
"Wasn't expecting you to stop by… oh, but it's fine! I'm glad to see you, kiddo," the man said, quickly correcting himself. There weren't any harsh intentions behind his words—thankfully, Sayaka knew what he meant. "No, I understand. I'm sorry for stopping by without notice."
"It's alright," he said, "if you want to stay for a while, that is. We don't mind."
Sayaka smiled softly, looking at the floor, "Thank you, Mr. Naegi."
His father chuckled, and turned back into the kitchen to help his wife with dinner. It took only a few moments for Sayaka's smile to fall, her shoulders sagging a bit as well.
"Are you okay?" Makoto asked, concern etched into his features. Sayaka nodded quietly, but then promptly shook her head, before just shrugging her shoulders. Makoto frowned—he suspected it had something to do with Ayaka. The idol's recent death had made news pretty quickly. And he knew Sayaka thought of her idol group as sisters in a way—the loss of yet another member must have been getting to her.
"Hey, how about we go up to my room and talk a bit? I haven't seen you in a long time…"
Sayaka smiled slightly, turning to Makoto with a tear in her eye. "Yeah, I know. It's been too long… I wish I could have stopped by sooner."
"No, it's okay. I understand—life is busy. You can't help it. But you're here now, right? So c'mon, maybe we can even play a game!"
He was trying to distract her, and they were all aware. Still, the effort was appreciated, and Sayaka just giggled pleasantly, enjoying the boy's optimism. She nodded, and Makoto took her hand, leading her up to his room. Komaru called out after them, telling them to wait for her—the brunette could hear his sister's footsteps echoing behind them.
And once more, Makoto recalled the old times—before the world had fallen to despair. Before that one girl managed to destroy everything. A hopeful smile curled at his lips—moments like these were definitely why he kept fighting.
So, from now on, my A/N will be at the end of chapters, unless I need to put a warning or something important before you start reading.
Speaking of important stuff, disclaimer: I do not own nor do I make claim to the characters of Danganronpa, or the game itself. This is merely a fan story for the fun of it. Any FCs mentioned in this story are mine, however anyone else is not. Again, I do not own nor make claim to Danganronpa.
Anyway! As I get back on track with my other two stories, I also started this one. I already have it all planned out, and the first three chapters already written. So... yeah. I honestly hope this is as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for me to write and plan out.
Also, on the topic of FCs, don't worry, guys. I'm not making the FCs the main focus of this plot. They're just here to add more numbers to the cast, that's all, really.
If you have any questions about this story, feel free to ask. If the stuff with magic isn't all that clear yet, I apologize, we're working our way there. Review and let me know what you think, because I'd love to know.
That said, I hope you enjoyed!