"Let's give it all we've got!"

Monokuma's laughter filled the trial room, and Peko looked away from the monochrome bear.

Then, Kuzuryuu spoke, and Peko remembered this voice, the voice that, when they were children, he would always use when he was trying not to cry, and her heart clenched painfully as he murmured, words meant for her alone.

"Why... couldn't you have just been you?"

His composure seemed to break, and he clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

"I... I never needed a tool! All I ever needed was you!"

Her lips parted and she looked up at her Young Master, scarlet eyes wide.

"Y-young Master?"

It was hard to breath, Peko vaguely noticed, as she unconciously took a small step towards Kuzuryuu.

"Why?! Why couldn't you ever see it?! We've been together since we were kids!"

Monokuma leaned forward, seemingly dissatisfied with what was happening. "Here we go! It's punishment time!"

Peko could see Kuzuryuu's lip trembling slightly as he ignored the bear. "S-so, Peko! Don't go yet!

"I need you! Don't leave me here alone!"

His last words caught Peko completely off guard, yet his distraught cries weren't what truly broke her, it was the tears that he couldn't hold back, and the truly terrified shine in his honey-colored eyes.

Peko's vision blurred as tears filled her own scarlet eyes. "Y-young master?"

Biting her lip, she let the tears fall, almost choking on her words.

"... Young master!"

And, suddenly, she stood on what appeared to be a cliff, waves lapping hungrily at the jagged rocks.

Her sword was in her hand, and countless wooden puppets surrounded her, a red eye, identical to Monokuma's, glowing in their shadowed faces.

Suddenly, her arm raised. W-what? And before she could figure out what was happening, she moved.

Her sword seemed to dance along with her as the puppets fell to the ground, sliced to pieces by the kendo swords's sharp blade.

In the corner of her vision, she could see Kuzuryuu, trying to get past the puppets, trying to get to her.

Crimson blood.

Suddenly she felt the familiar sensation of cutting through flesh, which, she realized now, felt distinctly different from the wood and metal of the puppet soldiers.

Crimson blood.

And the Young Master was there, behind what used to be one of those damned puppets, blood spurting from a clean line over his left eye.

Crimson blood.

Kuzuryuu collapsed, his hand stretching towards Peko, before dropping, limp, to the dusty ground, and Peko, the kendo sword falling from her pale hand, and she rushed forward, kneeling beside him.

Crimson blood.

The sticky liquid coated the left side of his face, and Peko reached to wipe it off his cheek, tears in her eyes, and then she sensed the puppets, surrounding them, bloodred eyes forebodingly bright.

Crimson blood.

Peko wrapped her arms around Kuzuryuu, covering him as the puppets drew nearer, weapons raised, and, as she died, a wistful smile on her lips, her Young Master in her arms, and her tears mingling with his blood, she decided that the piercing agony of the dozens of swords in her back didn't even compare to the torment of seeing Young Master Fuyuhiko's tears.


Sometimes it amazes me how often I make typos, and/or forget words.

Please review/let me know if there's a typo I haven't caught yet!