She had sworn she would never go back. And now there was nowhere else to run.
Himiko Yumeno stood on a rocky outcropping, looking down at the ruins of academy she used to call home. No, "home" was the wrong word. "Prison," maybe; "battlefield," definitely; "lie"...well, she would never be sure about that. One thing was for certain: beneath the crumbling buildings and rubble-strewn paths lay the only hope for saving her friends. Possibly the whole world. If it wasn't already too far gone.
Careful not to slip, Himiko lowered herself down to the dewy courtyard. Even in their current state, the Academy grounds were rife with memories of past triumphs and tragedies. The dilapidated dojo: a reminder of her greatest friendship and failure. The broken dorms: a monument to all the nightmares the Killing Semester had brought on her, and the dreams she had dared to hold onto. Despite the urgency of her task, Himiko couldn't help but linger on these markers of her past-it was as though she were staring into a fractured mirror, the images reflected both familiar and alien.
The hole K1-BO tore in the sky remained overhead, allowing moonlight to stream freely onto the desolate school as she ran. At one time, the starry opening was a promise to Himiko, a sign that the outside world was ready to change, that it would shed light on those it had once confined to darkness. Now she saw the jagged fissure for what it really was: a trap for those too blind to recognize it.
A cool breeze blew through the campus, chilling her skin through the thin prison uniform she wore. Outside these walls, Shuichi Saihara and Maki Harukawa were still captives of the nefarious Team Danganronpa corporation. Only Himiko had managed to escape. And only she could free them. But she couldn't do it alone.
The stairs that lead into the basement were long and dark, beckoning Himiko deeper into the depths of the Academy. With a deep breath, she drew the lighter she had pilfered during her flight, casting a flickering light on the cracked stone. If she had recharged her MP before coming here, she could have easily cast an illumination spell to light the way. Oh well. No time for rest or regrets. She had work to do.
Somewhere in these shadowy halls lay the two keys to her salvation:
A book of dark arts, long forgotten...
...And the checkered bandanna of the man it would resurrect.
Chloe Schwarzblum knew she was in trouble when her boss announced the meeting would be in Neo-Space. A simple phone call would have done for a reprimand; a video conference for a more extensive dressing-down. But to force the her to enter the virtual realm, to demand that she surrender her mind to a world completely under another's power...Lady Hope must have been really and truly pissed.
Chloe performed a quick breathing exercise as she sat at her desk. Even before Team Danganronpa had given her Ultimate Psychologist talent, the 25-year-old Head of Security had mastered dozens of techniques for combating stress and anxiety. Even so, her slender fingers quivered as she turned the Neo helmet over in her hands, triple-checking to make sure the memory and consciousness jacks were properly connected. Brushing her long dark hair off of her neck, she lowered the helmet over her head, the visor clicking into place and covering her vision entirely.
The Team Danganronpa logo flashed before her eyes, a red progress bar filling as her mind was transported into the digital body of her Neo-Space avatar. It was a form much like the one she inhabited in reality: tall, slim, and sharp, her shining eyes just visible under a shock of dark bangs. It was customary for high-ranking company officials to match their virtual and earthly representations. But that didn't mean Chloe's avatar was completely free of customization. A black, strapless lace dress was the one indulgence she allowed herself, a perfect replica of the outfit she had pined after when she was still living in the rain-streaked slums of New Munich.
Her mind and body now synchronized with the program, Chloe watched as the meeting venue unfolded into existence before her. A black-and-white checkered floor; arches framed by red curtains with golden trim; sixteen identical podiums arranged in a circle, and a wooden throne overlooking the arrangement. As composed as she was, Chloe's breath still caught in her throat.
It was a perfect replica of the Hope's Peak trial grounds. Not a good sign.
Even less welcome were the people waiting for her, the three of them already stationed at their podiums. It was just like Lady Hope to invite the other Heads, turning what was supposed to be an evaluation into an ambush.
The towering man in the lavender three-piece suit was the first to notice Chloe's presence. "Schwarzblum!" he exclaimed, jabbing a meaty finger in Chloe's direction. "How dare you show your face to us! You should have thrown yourself from the Tokyo Tower the moment the Magician slipped through our perimeter."
Chloe scowled. It was just like Michael Sugar to leap right to the extreme. The Head of Business Affairs seemed to believe that his impressive physique and Ultimate Grappler talent gave him the right to bully anyone who crossed his path. A useful tactic in negotiations, but one that caused Chloe no small amount of annoyance. Hopefully the vulgar American managed to keep his shirt on the entirety of this meeting-the last thing Chloe needed to deal with today was even more repressed insecurity.
"Must you be so loud, you ingrate?" the man with the admiral coat and eye-patch groaned. "The purpose of this meeting is to punish her, not us."
Chloe shot a cold glance his way. Odafe Bankole: Head of Technology and keeper of the Ultimate Programmer talent. It was rare for a Head to take on a talent perfectly in line with their given skillset; when it came time to become an Ultimate, most candidates chose talents that complimented or compensated for their innate attributes. The fact that Odafe clung to his computational abilities showed how highly he thought of his particular field. It also made him incredibly easy to bait.
"If anyone should share blame, it should be you, Odafe," Chloe said. "After all, it was your shoddy algorithms that allowed Yumeno to slip under our radar."
"Why you!" Odafe exclaimed, the wooden podium the only thing preventing him from grasping Chloe's neck. "There was no flaw in my programs! How dare you even suggest that-"
Beside Odafe, a white tiger in a neon hoodie jumped up and giggled excitedly. "Eeheeheehee. You're sooooo uptight, Odafe! It's no wonder Chloe loves picking on you!" The tiger turned her attention to Chloe, eyes sparkling. "Oh! Which reminds me: Chloe! How have you been? I heard you came to Japan to check on the contestants, but I haven't seen you around the office at all. We should get coffee soon! Or a pedicure! Maybe a spa weekend! we have sooooo much catching up to do!"
Chloe suppressed a weary sigh. Even in Neo-Space, being around Hikari Ike was exhausting. The Head of Design and Ultimate Gamer was an odd duck...or tiger, as the case may be. Her radiant energy and off-beat choice of avatar lead many to believe that she was a quirky daydreamer, but Chloe knew the truth. If she wasn't careful around Hikari, the chirpy woman would gladly plant a knife in Chloe's exposed back.
"All of you, quit derailing our agenda!" Michael growled. "Time is money, and all of you are wasting it!"
Chloe shot a glance into the shadows at the back of the room. She could feel Lady Hope there, reclined in the judge's throne, watching the circus play out before her. Though Chloe couldn't make out her boss's features, her regal white dress and delicate hands were visible enough. That, and the locks of golden hair that fell about her shoulders, radiant even in the darkness. Chloe didn't know much about her superior, but she knew enough to be afraid. Lady Hope had run Team Danganronpa for over two decades, her many talents and ruthless instincts assuring her supremacy was never challenged. Chloe supposed it was for the best: the world depended on Team Danganronpa's entertainment to function, lest it fall back into the chaos of the Burning Age. As one of the stalwart vanguards against those dark times, Lady Hope had earned her title.
Still, at this moment in time Chloe wished the Lady's presence wasn't so...oppressive.
The Security Head cleared her throat, re-centering herself. "Mr. Sugar is right: there's no need to drag this out," she said. "I take full responsibility for the loss of the Ultimate Magician. It was my confinement protocol that proved inadequate, and my men that fell for her illusions, allowing her to escape. I can only beg and hope for your forgiveness."
"Awwww Chloe, don't be sad!" Hikari squeaked. "I'm sure the next Ultimate Magician that comes around, you'll be on her like a cat on a plastic bag!"
Odafe sneered. "Your apologies do us no good, Schwarzblum. I believe a changing of the guard is necessary to assure the company's safety. Who knows? Maybe the other two are preparing for their escape this very moment."
Chloe felt her cheeks flash hot with rage, but she kept her expression neutral. "There's no need for such drastic action. Security has been tightened around the Detective and Assassin, and my agents are already on Yumeno's trail. This crisis will be resolved in less than a week."
Hikari ran her paws through her whiskers. "Do we even know what Himiko's gonna do next? What if she gets a buncha anti-Killing Game nutjobs on her side and tries to spring her friends outta here?"
Odafe sighed. "This is why I suggested we wipe their characters the moment we captured them. They're nothing but a liability."
"Don't you start that again!" Michael exclaimed. "Those kids represent billions in labor and resources. There's no way we're spending another mother load redeveloping them, not when we have a chance to recoup our losses."
Right when Chloe was sure the Heads would devolve into their old arguments, Lady Hope's resonant voice rang out from the back. "Do Maki and Shuichi know their friend has escaped?" she asked.
The other Heads fell silent. Chloe swallowed. "No," she said. "And I'll make sure they never do."
Even in the darkness, she could detect Lady Hope's smirk. "I wouldn't speak so boldly, if I were you," she cooed. "After all, you are committing the same sin that allowed Himiko to escape." She leaned forward, allowing the cruel gleam in her eye to pierce the shadows. "You are underestimating them."
"She's not coming," Maki murmured, casting a covert glance at the security camera overlooking the dining table.
Shuichi nodded, absently stirring his soup. Five missed dinners in a row: too many to be attributed to illness or negligence. It was safe to assume that Himiko was no longer in the confines of the Monokuma Hotel. The question now was: why? It was a mystery the Ultimate Detective had been mulling over since the morning and, seeing how tense Maki was, he deduced it was one she had been struggling with as well.
It was to be expected, he supposed. Their world had been defined by uncertainty the moment they had stepped out of the Killing Semester and into the blinding light of the outside world. It was a world unlike anything the former students could've anticipated, a shining utopia of peace with an ugly, violent heart; a populace under constant surveillance by corporations and governments alike, the killing entertainment of Danganronpa being the only outlet for their repressed emotions and urges. Maybe it was naive of Shuichi to believe that his friends could change such a society so easily. But it still came as a shock how quickly Team Danganronpa had found and detained them.
Fortunately, if Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko were baffled by their new world, the new world was just as baffled by them. As far as Shuichi could tell, no contestant had ever escaped the confines of the Danganronpa series before, much less forced it to implode while the whole world watched. As a consequence, the three survivors had become a weird cross between the world's most beloved celebrities and its most wanted criminals. Some reviled them for ending the most popular show on the planet; others saw the 53rd season as a wake-up call, and demanded killing entertainment be discontinued entirely; still others existed somewhere in between, cheering on the 53rd class' daring while still hoping for another season. Protests and counter-protests rocked the globe, making it difficult for the powers that be to determine which way the public winds were blowing. There was no legal precedent for the "crimes" the survivor's had committed, and no backup plan or protocol for dealing with the fallout.
For now, Team Danganronpa's answer seemed to be a tenuous compromise between imprisonment and reintegration. Rather than jail Shuichi and his friends, the corporation cleared out one of their resort hotels and placed the remaining Ultimates under house arrest, transforming the building into a luxury fortress. Every square foot was packed with guards, cameras, and automated security measures, and each prisoner was confined to a separate floor, dinners and photo ops being the only time they were allowed to see each other. It was an odd arrangement, but one that had its desired effect: placating fans of the 53rd class while still keeping the students under control until the higher ups could figure out the next move.
It had been six months since they were checked into their high-class holding cell. Six months of sleepless nights and lonely mornings; six months spent pacing the holes in the carpet while the T.V. blared, trying to make sense of the new world and all its madness; six months of wondering if each day might be their last. Now Shuichi and Maki sat in an otherwise empty banquet hall, the stunning view of the skyline completely wasted on their fretful moods.
Maki's fingers drummed restlessly by the handle of her steak knife. "They better not have done anything to her," she stated flatly, failing to hide her rising bloodlust. "If Himiko comes back with a hair or memory out of place, I'll make them beg for mercy before I bleed them dry."
Shuichi swallowed nervously. He didn't doubt that Maki could back up that threat, or at least that she would die trying. "I don't think it'll come to that," he said. "I doubt Team Danganronpa had anything to do with her disappearance."
Maki's eyes narrowed skeptically. "What makes you say that?"
"Just a hunch," Shuichi admitted. "But if they were planning on executing us or wiping our memories, I think they would do it all at once. Removing us one at a time just puts pressure on the survivors to take matters into their own hands."
Maki paused, then shook her head. "I see what you mean, but that's just an assumption. It's also possible that they've just managed to finish building one flashback light, and so can only wipe one of us at a time."
Shuichi crossed his arms in thought. What Maki described was a possibility. During their time in Team Danganronpa's "care", Shuichi and Maki had learned that flashback lights were surprisingly difficult to come by outside of the killing game. Creating false memories or talents that would be accepted by a target's mind was no simple task, and the tech used to build the devices wasn't cheap either. Precise care had to be taken during their manufacture, or else there could be a whole host of side-effects and unintended consequences. The flashback light creation device Tsumugi Shirogane had used during the 53rd season was apparently one of a kind, an invention that Team Danganronpa had spent years and billions developing. Now it lay broken and buried with the rest of the ruined Academy. Probably for the best, Shuichi thought.
"It's possible they can only afford to rewrite us one at a time, but it's also unlikely," Shuichi explained. "After all, if that were the case, they probably would've started with you, as you pose the largest threat to them and their staff."
Maki nodded and turned away, her gaze distant. Shuichi knew that expression well: it was the look of an assassin who had seen and committed countless horrors, and yet, despite herself, was starting once again to hope.
"So...then that means..." Maki said.
"Yes." Shuichi confirmed. Himiko had likely escaped.
Maki fell silent for a moment, making sure she kept her face blank for the cameras. Outside the window, the two friends could make out the twinkling lights of the city, as well as the faint shadows of protesters camped outside the resort's walls.
"Do you know what she'll do next?" the Assassin finally asked.
Shuichi hesitated. The truth was, he already had a pretty solid theory about Himiko's next move. If the tiny magician had as much faith in her friends and magical abilities as Shuichi suspected she did, there was only one place she could've gone. But Maki wasn't going to like it. In fact, there was a chance she would launch a bloody breakout attempt of her own, just to make sure it didn't happen.
"No, I don't," the Detective finally lied.
"Nyeh?!" Himiko froze with a start, almost dropping her lighter in the process. A shattered, mechanical face was sticking out of the rubble, it's features bisected in black and white. It could only be one thing: the remains of MotherKuma. If the heart-shaped chemical lights hanging from the ceiling weren't enough of a clue, this confirmed it: Himiko had found the mastermind's layer. The key that she sought was close.
Using her extensive knowledge of hidden compartments as well as the blueprints shown to her by the...source she had met outside, Himiko quickly found the false panel behind MotherKuma's podium. She moved the cracked plaster aside, revealing a hidden doorway. It was impossible to see what was on the other side: the pink glow of the heart lights were too weak to penetrate the murky passageway. Still, Himiko knew what was waiting for her on the other end. And she knew she was going to hate it.
Taking a deep breath, Himiko stepped into the shadows. The flickering flame of her lighter revealed a room lined with metal freezers on either side, each with eight labeled compartments. There was no mistaking it: she had found the morgue.
A wave of nausea crashed though Himiko's stomach, causing her to double over. If only there was someone else around so she could use her puke-transfer spell. Lacking that, she would have to work fast. Averting her gaze from the freezer doors, Himiko quickly moved to the back of the room, hoping beyond hope that her source was right. A scratched metal table gradually took shape in the darkness. And resting on top...
It was the motive from the third class trial; the mysterious tome that supposedly had the power to raise the dead; the dreaded Necronomicon.
Himiko shivered as her hand closed around it. To be holding an object that had caused her so much pain, that had lead to the death of two of her friends and the continuation of the Killing Semester...it was almost too much to bear. Part of Himiko wanted to scream and cry and rip it to shreds, or cast a black hole spell and send it spiraling into oblivion. But neither was an option: she needed this book if she ever wanted to see Shuichi and Maki again. And she only had so much MP to spare, anyway.
Pushing down her feelings of revulsion and regret, Himiko searched for the second item on her list. It didn't take long: resting in a basket nearby was a pile of clothes taken from the deceased Ultimates. At the very top was a familiar purple jacket, still splattered with blood from the wearer's final moments. Himiko resisted the urge to vent her guts right there, instead digging deeper into the pile until she found what she was looking for: a tattered white uniform formerly belonging to the man she came to resurrect. The Ultimate Supreme Leader. Kokichi Oma.
With the Necronomicon and clothing in hand, Himiko dashed out of the morgue as quickly as she could, gasping for breath as she reentered the mastermind's lair. Using scraps of couch cushions and furniture from the wreckage, she stuffed the uniform and arranged it in a humanoid shape, laying the checkered scarf on top to complete the improvised effigy. Himiko hoped it would be enough.
The rules of the Necronomicon were simple:
"1. Prepare an effigy of the dead soul you wish to contact.
2. After preparing the effigy, burn the Necronomicon to ashes.
3. Sprinkle the ashes on the effigy and repeat the name of the deceased three times.
4. Then close your eyes and wait. You should feel a light tap on your back. If so, that means the ritual was a success."
Her heart hammering in her chest, Himiko raised the dark tome over the lighter. There was no going back from this. She had one shot, and one shot only. Whatever happened next would change the course of her life, and possibly that of the entire world, forever.
She hesitated. A thousand doubts and questions raced through her mind. If this really worked, she could bring any of her former classmates back. Why did it have to be him? She could bring back Kaito. Or K1-BO. Or...
Tenko.
The memory of the spirited martial artist almost caused Himiko's knees to give out. There was nothing she wanted more than to see Tenko one more time. Himiko needed to see her smiling face, to hear her encouraging words and...to tell her she was sorry.
Himiko blinked, then let the tears flow freely. No. That wasn't what Tenko would want. She would want Himiko to do what was right. She would want Himiko to give it her all and save Shuichi and Maki no matter what. She would want...she would want the little magician to move on, and face her fears with eyes wide open.
Himiko lifted her gaze, flicked the lighter, and set the Necronomicon ablaze. The pages burned an eerie green, but she did not look away.
When the fire subsided, she scooped up the ashes and dusted the effigy with trembling hands. Closing her eyes, Himiko clasped her palms together, knelt on the floor, and recited:
"Kokichi Oma.
Kokichi Oma.
Kokichi...Oma."
Silence. A minute passed. Than another.
Nothing. No magic light. No gust of wind. No wicked laugh. Just the sound of Himiko's shallow, anxious breaths.
Then.
A tap on her shoulder.
"Neehee. Waiting for someone?" a cheery voice asked.
Himiko's eyes snapped open.