The two of them walked side by side, stopping where the ocean met the sand. During the walk, they planned a strategy. Or, rather, Peko reeled off ideas that Fuyuhiko rejected, as the other strangers were gradually brought into the picture. If the two were to be equals, now, as the young master had said, they were to follow the same plan.
"I don't want to fucking meet with them," Fuyuhiko sneered, retorting, "And neither should you."
"Young master-"
"Don't call me that. Remember what I told you before."
Peko snapped her lips shut, pursing them until she could map out what to say next. As she spoke, she looked at a black smudge of ink on her thumb.
"I…do believe they are people of good will. Perhaps if we-"
"Forget it." he grimaced. "This is all just bad news to me."
He scratched the back of his neck, as if it actually itched. She knew that persuading him wouldn't be this easy. It never was.
It was night one of this paranoia that she knew would swallow him if she didn't act quickly.
"Do you really think they expect us to kill each other?" he more asked to himself, staring out across the endless ocean, the moon's rays sparkling along the ripples.
Peko never liked it when Fuyuhiko gave her a question she couldn't answer. Some tools can't do certain things. A screwdriver can't hammer in a nail. A terrified girl can't put a tense man at ease.
With no answer, the two silently watched the unwavering moon that constantly watched them.
"Will we make it out of here alive?"
{*}
"O-Of course we will!"
Peko found a cave for them in the crevice of the mountain after hours of wandering, forming a fire on the ledge for a potential smoke signal. She had spent what felt like hours attempting to calm her panicking friend, offering her coat that he'd reject every three minutes.
She gave him a half-smile, knowing that was as far as the smile would go. They were lost, cold, and children.
Fuyuhiko shook his head.
"You're scared too." he winced.
A fruitless effort.
{*}
It was inevitable.
Peko couldn't bear to look at the screen, and Fuyuhiko knew that this was nowhere near anything that his father would have the balls to do, much less the power.
A man turned into a fried morsel within seconds. The bear laughed as he got off the helicopter. This was normal practice to him.
That night, the two met at the same place where the stars kissed the horizon. Fuyuhiko threw shells out to the water, huffing, "You still think everyone here's so good-willed?"
She let out a defeated sigh.
"But he killed for a reason."
He turned to her, mouth slightly agape.
"Peko, Teruteru murdered someone knowing he easily could. I don't give a shit whether his mom was 'waiting for him' or not. He was responsible for the loss of a life that didn't need to be lost. End of story."
"Fuyu-"
"End of story, Peko."
He skipped a mussel along the tide, watching it skid and bounce off the water three times until it plopped into the deep.
Maybe it was the fact she grew desensitized to the idea of death. It was something she was conditioned to do so young. He'd never know of everything that she did for the clan, and not just for him. Every heart her sword splashed into.
The bamboo sword coiled around her spine like a snake; her real blade would choke her alive at that moment.
He sighed once the mussel sunk.
"Didn't mean to snap at you like that. I guess you have some kind of point," he noted, "It's the only way any of us could leave here. It's brutal for some people to be away this long and not go insane. It's…"
Peko walked closer to him, feeling such a desire to be held by him. By someone. By anyone.
"Bigger than us."
He turned to her, with too many options of what to do next and knowing all of them would be bad ideas. Her skin matched the color of the twilight, reflections of the ripples dotting her skin and crashing along her collarbone. It was bigger than him.
"Yeah." he agreed. "Bigger than us."
{*}
Cigar smoke lingered around her tattered skirt. He snapped at her, tobacco fumes billowing out of his nostrils.
"Hikers shouldn't have been fuckin' responsible for your lives."
"I know."
"We trained you twelve years for shit like this. You know what those hikers could have done if they found out who you were? If they asked one more question?"
She didn't bring up how they would have died without the hikers who happened to see the smoke from across the trail, nor the fact that she gave the police a home address five miles away from the mansion. Fruitless effort.
"I…I know. It's just that we-"
"You aren't equals. Get that shit out of your head."
"I know."
A slap across her face, scarlet skin across her cheek.
"That all you can fucking say?"
She took a breath, holding up her chin.
"No."
A flick of the cigar, orange flying across her braid.
"Then say it."
"I will protect him with my life."
Peko's arm was nearly pulled from her socket, her lungs a tea kettle as the embers mixed with her skin.
"Damn right, you will."
{*}
"You plan on killing her?"
"Damn right, I am. And I will. Believe that."
He tossed the photos across his bed, pausing for a few seconds before flipping over his table and kicking and throwing and breaking the fodder that was atop it. All Peko could do was watch, keeping guard of the door and windows for bystanders that were to ask questions the next morning. Letting the dust settle and the clashing cease, Fuyuhiko paused in his own mess. He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his shaved head.
"I…tried to talk to her today."
"And?"
"Wouldn't fuckin' stop to hear what I had to say." he clicked his lips together, growling, "Guilty."
Peko couldn't deny it. The photograph of Natsumi bathed in her own blood was left bent on the floor. A cruel discovery, and an even more bitter reminder of what kind of game this was.
She didn't ask what happened to his glimmering moral code from before. After all, the clan's thirst for revenge was why she was needed in the clan in the first place. Money, ransom, cheating, lying, rape, ravage.
The Kuzuryuu clan functioned on constantly being owed lives. Revenge was the fabric the two were wrapped in as children.
"Just tell me what you need me to do, young master." Peko stated bluntly, her blade burning in her mind.
Fuyuhiko huffed, "I don't need your help, Peko. You don't need to get wrapped up in this."
"Young master, I'm insisting."
He grabbed her hand without realizing it. Their eye contact was tense and unwavering.
"Peko, you remember when Teruteru was fried alive over a goddamn volcano? You want something like that to happen to you if you get caught?"
"To me, it does not matter. I am your tool. I'm meant to be used."
"Oh my God, with that shit again," his grip around her hand jittered. "I told you the first second we were enrolled into Hope's Peak that we were officially equals. You're no longer my tool, don't you get it?"
"Master, as much as you don't wish it," she let one of her fingers loop out from under his thumb. His thumb coiled back. "I can't simply stand by and let you go in alone. You can't do this alone."
She leaned into him, whispering, "So tell me what to do."
He grimaced.
Pointless.
He quivered, nodding with a soft, "Okay. Let's get to work, then."
The two spent the late hours of the night calculating a plan, analyzing exact times and drawing out a map of the island to find the optimal location for the perfect crime. Peko quickly realized that someone needed to be framed.
"I'll do it."
"Peko, no."
"Who else, then?"
Fuyuhiko huffed, "Why do we even need one?"
"Because you need to be alive. Natsumi needs a proper funeral. The clan needs their leader," she repeated, "You need to."
"I…"
He trailed off, knowing this was to be the plan no matter what. He paused for a moment, until he asked, "Who is that toddler that follows Mahiru around all the time?"
"…Hiyoko? She's seventeen."
"…No shit."
"But that…could work. She has been following Mahiru around constantly recently, so that could be passed off as some ulterior motive."
"Mahiru would be the most vulnerable to her."
"Right."
They continued to plan, brewing the sin and letting it fester.
{*}
She was so weak around him.
"Come on, Peko! Live a little!" Fuyuhiko gave her a glass of champagne. "We're heading to Hope's Peak tomorrow! Aren't you even a little excited?"
She slinked the champagne around in the flute glass. Her black dress cascaded down her body, tight bun winding her head in place.
"I'm pleased you are, young master." her mouth stretched into a very small smile.
"We'll be students together, Peko," Fuyuhiko laughed, which was something rare in this family. "No need to refer to me as your superior anymore."
Peko felt blessed that his father didn't hear that. He was too busy drunkenly groping a woman on the opposite side of this gala thrown for them, while his wife was looking for the biggest shotgun in the mansion.
This party wasn't about them, really. It was more about how much the clan liked to splurge, get plastered, and lose their fidelity all in one night. Neither Fuyuhiko nor Peko minded the lack of spotlight.
Fuyuhiko, with a surprising jolt, grabbed Peko by the hand. She gasped, the high bun falling loose as he dragged her into a sprint. He bolted up the stairwell, drinks in hand, and Peko's eyes widened every time she caught the gleam in his.
The two finally stopped atop the roof of the mansion; a flat, marble-lined sitting area with granite gating lining the roof. There were topiaries in each corner that were all shaped like nothing in particular, due to the clan's lack of creativity or desire for details. Here, the breeze was smooth and cold, as Peko took a slow sip of her champagne and gave her heart a second to relax.
He was like a young child all over again. With a flip of a switch, the roof was lit with a striking gold from underneath. From behind one of the topiaries, he pulled out a radio and another bottle of champagne.
"Let's party." he exclaimed, turning on the radio to some kind of swing dance music Peko wasn't familiar with.
"Young master…" Peko looked around, realizing that, yes, it was just them up here. "What about the gala?"
"What? So we can get occasionally interrogated by a random old person about our 'talent'? Like wow, you're brilliant with swords and my family scares the piss out of police officers. Amazing."
He straightened up his back, holding his drink tightly and saying in a timid voice, "I have heard so many wonderful things about Hope's Peak Academy. I am sure you will take our clan far after you graduate. Isn't Natsumi attending the school too? Oh, as a Reserve Course student? Ah, but still. What an honooooor."
Peko, before she knew it, giggled. The audible laugh astonished her, as the giggling grew louder. Fuyuhiko, amazed himself, laughed along with her.
After catching a few breaths, Fuyuhiko extended his hand out to her.
"Come on," he cooed, "Let's dance a little."
She readjusted her bun, adding, "Well, you're the one who took dance lessons with Natsumi when you were younger. You know I haven't."
"And I'll teach you." Fuyuhiko replied, gesturing his hand out for her and growing impatient. "Ready?"
The two put down their drinks down on the floor nearby. Peko found it hard to swallow air, as the radiance of the scene blinded her.
"Ready." she replied, taking his hand.
The height difference didn't help much, with Fuyuhiko's toes growing bruised. But he saw her smile. It was what he set out to do that night. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen her, despite the fumbles along the way. Their grips tightened around each other's waists and hands, as Peko saw the world swirl around her.
Her fingers glided from his waist, to his shoulder, to the side of his neck. His head tilted into her touch, eyes closed. The two stopped swaying and sunk to the floor. With the soft piano behind them, Fuyuhiko kept his hand in Peko's, arching over her body. Her breath quickened, mind absent as she unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. With her fingers reaching to his skin, he reached for her neck.
His skin felt warm. She wanted him terribly, and here he was, touching her, tasting her: a beautiful sin.
She unbuttoned the shirt from the inside, feeling more of his collarbone, his chest, gliding over his ribcage like a harp. A faint gasp escaped her lips as he began kissing her neck. Above his shoulder, she could see the moon shining over them; blaring light that was the only witness to this sin.
Light. Cigar. A growl.
"You're not equals."
Oh God, she could never do this and get away with it.
Fuyuhiko curled her into a grip and nibbled softly. One of his hands cupped her breast. And, with a sudden jolt,
"Get that shit out of your head."
"M-Master." she pulled away from him, her hand curling back behind her. She shot up to her feet, with him following.
He stepped back.
"D-Did I do something wrong?" he said, "I'm sorry, Peko, I-"
"No, it's not that. It's not you. I just…I could never do this."
"What do you-"
"I have to go."
Away she ran, suddenly so far away from him. And he knew why. He knew her.
He knew, and he hated himself for that.
{*}
She fell so suddenly, knees buckled against the damp sand as she held his head in her cramped hands and curled it into her chest.
Kneeling over his body, she felt herself losing her religion. No prayer could undo this. There was nothing she could do to stop the rise and fall of the ocean pounding along the cliffside or the shuffling of wood and metal crowding around them.
Gripping his wrist, she felt nothing. Nothing.
She now, truly, had nothing left.
Hanging her spine over him like an umbrella, she could feel her own cold sweat drip down her cheeks.
Then, as if she froze, a sudden force clamped over her hand.
He looked up at her with a wink so slight in Peko's own shadow that she barely noticed him wince afterwards. Bells chimed somewhere in Peko's mind as she nearly fainted into him. A silhouette landed behind her shoulders with a blade of silver that began to reach for the sun.
Fuyuhiko noticed this. He held her. Tight.
"Ready?"
He smirked slightly as Peko collapsed into to his chest. Sliding her hand swiftly under his jacket, she could feel his rib cage rattle. Rhythm quickened under her fingertips.
The silver got lost in a wave of samurai and shadows.
Peko let a waterfall of blood from his face inch down her hand that was quivering like a faint leaf.
"Ready."
She was.
Fuyuhiko, with a final inhale, pressed his hand against the back of Peko's head, pushing her in. The silver got lost in his fingers, the taste of justice and regret growing familiar to him; to her, the taste of royalty. As her eyelids tightened shut, Peko's fingers fidgeted under his jacket, then snapped, then fell limp.
The end of the blade pounded through her and grazed over the finest tip of his tie. Braids frayed. Another splice of silver etched along his shoulder.
He felt lava seethe along his shoulder as she lurched off of him, losing connection to half of his body within seconds. A few inches away from his face, she cracked her nails into the sand with each whip above them. Shadows of molten metal blinded them both, her glasses flying off into the void after another sword slammed into her spine.
"Hey, Peko."
He crawled over to her with one arm, his knees latching onto each other.
Sloshing thoughts and shaking breaths, Peko craned her head onto her shoulder so a working ear was free; the other ear was caked over at that point. All she could see were halos of brown and black and red and him, perched miles above her.
A single rope was left for her to cling to.
The rest of the world fell to static.
"I love you. You did it."
So cruel of him.
She let go.
The tide was clear, and the sky turned to a blinding grey and a furious pink. Tears fell just as Fuyuhiko had timed them. With wobbly knees, he stood up from her body, arm still hanging limp and face growing numb. He turned to the puppets, his other arm outstretched before them.
"Well? What are you waiting for, you bastards?" he exclaimed, "Show me whatcha got!"
As they all came at him with a blinding speed, he laughed maniacally at the sky. The tears rapidly shot down his face as he got continual jabs in the chest and collapsed next to Peko's corpse. The smile he pasted on for her was now tattered, as, finally, he let go too.
Fidget, snap, fall.
And down they went.
{*}
He groaned at the glaring light looming over him. It wasn't so audible, but it triggered a response in the room.
"Oh! Fu…Fuyuhiko!" a faint voice and a brisk shuffle across the floor. "Y-You're awake!"
From the shrunken window of vision he had, Fuyuhiko was able to match the voice with the face.
"…Mikan, right?"
She looked at him and nodded with a small smile, explaining, "I was…just about t-to put this on the counter so y-you could h…have it when you w-woke u-up. You…you w-want it now?"
Just as he was about to answer, she added with a cry, "I-It's okay if not! I c-can get you something else or-"
"Mikan."
She quit stuttering.
"It's okay," Fuyuhiko sighed, realizing why he was there in the first place. "I'll take it."
Mikan, with a second of hesitation, nodded, placing a tray gingerly on his lap. On it were some microwavable chicken tenders, four green beans, and a cup of pudding, with a travel-size bottle of orange juice.
"Are…the bandages…"
She gestured to the right side of Fuyuhiko's face, and he nodded.
"Yep, they're there. They're tight." he nodded, the gauze a little too constricting.
Yes, it did happen. It was real.
Mikan smiled with, "E-Everyone really w…wants to see you."
He was silent as he went to opening his pudding, intent on that being the one thing he would eat. Realizing there would be no response, Mikan stepped back from the bed, heading towards the door. Before she left, she looked over at his bed, then to the side table, then to what was on top of it.
"Oh!"
Mikan clopped back over to the side table, Fuyuhiko's head pivoting around towards her.
"Monokuma l-left this f-for you…"
It was a box so gaudy and red that it reminded Fuyuhiko that his right eye was so out of commission. The wrapping paper had a bizarre velvet texture that molted on Mikan's hands. After Fuyuhiko grabbed the present from her, Mikan brushed her hands off on her apron, grimacing at the scarlet fuzz now stuck to it. With whatever aggression he could muster, he ripped off the gaudy wrap. The red fuzz exploded over the sheets.
His finger traced along the gleaming dragon along the side of the sheath. It was a blade that was too heavy for him and too tainted for his soul.
"Y…You want me to g-grab everyone soon?"
He gave the sword to Mikan, instructing her to put it under the bed.
"In a couple minutes."
She nodded, finding a lint roller and hastily getting whatever scraps she could from on and around his bed.
{*}
And the next few days were just about the same. Mikan would wake him up with one of three meals, (which never really varied and he'd always grab the same thing anyway,) and every now and again, someone would pop in to check up on him. On one particular morning, Mikan trotted in with a large, open cardboard box that had been clearly giving her trouble on the way over.
Fuyuhiko looked up from his latest project, the sparkly thread in his hand pausing mid-loop. The embroidery on his eyepatch Mikan gave him was coming along nicely; Mikan made it a point to bring that up later when she worked up the courage. With a last wheeze, she plopped the box at the foot of the bed, making the mattress shake for a second.
"What's that?" Fuyuhiko briefly looked down to finish his loop, giving Mikan a minute to catch her breath.
"It…" she straightened out her apron, finding still a piece of red fuzz. "It's a b-bunch of l…letters f-from everyone."
Everyone except Hiyoko, of course. She didn't find it best to bring up the obvious.
"…Letters?"
She nodded, pulling them out from the box.
"T-There were a lot. It got h…hard to lug here." she explained with a barely audible chuckle, laying them out in front of Fuyuhiko. "I-It was S-Sonia's idea."
Fuyuhiko grabbed each card as Mikan pulled them out. Sonia's was in elegant, golden calligraphy, while Kazuichi's was in smudgy, pink crayon with a drawing of Fuyuhiko ripping off Monokuma's head attached to it. Nekomaru attached his card to a large jar of fiber, ("TO SHIT THE PAIN OUT OF YOU!"), which explained why Mikan's trek was so tiresome. He even got a letter signed by all four Dark Devas of Destruction, cursive names matched with corresponding pawprints.
Mikan handed him a small scroll next, pulling out Chiaki's card as Fuyuhiko opened the sideways scroll.
Clench.
"Who wrote this one?" Fuyuhiko asked, almost meekly.
Mikan looked on the back of the scroll, her brows furrowing.
"I…I'm n-not sure."
But he knew already. And he hated himself for that.
{*}
Young master,
I'm writing this in the off chance that anything happens to me while we're on this island. If anything does happen to me, as there is that chance that any one of us could be slain by tomorrow morning, I would like for you to know that it has been my honor watching you grow into the resilient, handsome young man you've become. …I should not use words like that. My apologies.
A dimly lit room. Peko reignited her candle, hearing the ocean crack against the sand outside her window. With a deep sigh, she continued.
You have been nothing but kind and gracious to me, after all these years. Sometimes, I truly do forget that I'm but your tool. I will never understand where your warmth comes from, but it's what's held my life together and given it a purpose.
She shook.
I truly have fallen for you. I wish I didn't run away from you the night before we came here. But you already know that nothing is simple with us.
A pause. She felt the faint marks along her arm under her sleeve. The skin, still, felt raw from the burns.
It is so wrong and selfish of me to feel this way, I know. Your father made it a point that I never cross the boundary between my duty to the family and a deeper comradery with you, and over time, that festered into what I believed in. I figured that was what you wanted as well, but I can't help it when I have spent nearly every second of this life with you. I can't help the fact that I truly desire more. As a tool, even I have my limit, especially when I know that you don't want me as one.
The brush nearly snapped in half in her hand, the boiling lava trickling down to her chin. Teeth snapped down like a trap, and she grew so hasty that the ink smudged against her thumb.
You need to get out of here. You will make it out of here alive; I know you will. I'll assure it myself. It is not just a duty for the clan, or from your father. It's for myself.
A knock at her door.
"A minute."
Stay alive, young master. My final selfish request is that you keep your flame lit and at least give the others a chance. All of you have good will, and your own good will has kept me alive and more than privileged to be your tool, and perhaps even your friend.
More knocking. A familiar voice.
"Peko, come on."
Her heart screeched to a halt, as she went to slapping the tears off her face and readjusting her glasses. With a stutter, she exclaimed, "Coming, young master."
She signed it off, sealing it with the wax of the melted candle. After hiding it in the bottom of her dresser, Peko bolted out the door to go over potential strategies with the one most worth it.
{*}
"…and your own good will has kept me alive and more than privileged to be your tool, and perhaps even your friend."
With an exhale, Fuyuhiko sank his back into the pillow behind him. He tightly rolled back the scroll, nervously grazing across the broken seal with his nails.
"Mikan."
Mikan removed the box from the bed, accidentally dropping the box at the sound of her name.
"Y-Yes?"
He looked up at her, putting the scroll on the side table.
"You mind leaving for a few minutes?" he added, "I need to be alone for a bit."
With a murmur, she nodded, nearly tripping on her way out the door. Before she exited, however…
"…W-Why did you do it?"
He gripped the sheet under him.
"Do what?"
"Y…you know. R-Running in a…after her. Y-you knew she'd die, you…you know?"
Her eyes widened after but a second of silence.
"I-I'm sorry. That's…a very foolish question to a-ask you. S…so insensitive of me…" she repeated, "S-So-"
"She never gave up on me."
The whirring fan above them cut through their silence, just as he could cut through her words.
"H-Hm?"
"She had been by my side this entire time, literally no matter what." a half-smile was all he could muster. "Why would I not be there for her until the end? Even if I knew I couldn't save her, she deserved that comfort and assurance she gave me my whole life for the last few minutes of hers."
Mikan, almost appearing as though she was satisfied with that answer, smiled meekly towards him, adding, "T-There's so much good in you. That's why…why your b-body wouldn't g-give up."
She turned her back to him, and as the door closed behind her, Fuyuhiko could hear a yelp and clashing of metal; he appreciated that no one was there to see it this time. Peko told him about that secondhand embarrassment.
The moment the sound of her footsteps grew distant, Fuyuhiko gradually ripped off each bandage from his head, feeling the raw skin and stitch scars underneath. With a last wince, he peeled off the final bandage. His skull throbbed. With his other hand, he felt for the embroidered eye patch, sliding the elastic band around his head and adjusting it directly over the slumped eyelid.
Joints popped as he pulled himself off the bed, changing into a new folded suit Mikan put on the opposite side of the room "f-for when you're…ready to h-head out. Not anytime s-soon, of course, but…"
But, now was the time. This was past "anytime soon." He grabbed the sword from under the bed, unsheathing it.
"Here I go, Peko."
Another splice through skin.
And with the sheath and cards in hand, he bolted and then hobbled out the door.
{*}
"We'll make it out of here alive."
She held him tightly as she heard footsteps towards the cave.
"Promise, Peko?"
"I promise."
{*}
The sunlight kissed his skin. Her fingertips tingled across his shoulders as his stomach tingled. The stairs went on for miles, and still, she pushed him.
"I promise."