Notes: A story wherein the six survivors regained their school memories sometime after Super Danganronpa 2. Naturally, there are spoilers present for all Danganronpa media (Danganronpa & Super Danganronpa 2, Another Episode, Zero, IF, etc.).
Hello, everyone! As you all know, the real Danganronpa 3 is going to air very soon. I, for one, cannot be any more excited: Danganronpa is the first franchise in a long while that is so compelling that I simply must express my fondness for it through writing. Indeed, this is my first stab at fanfiction in a long while. That being the case, I am eager to refine my writing, so please do not hold back on any critiques you have to offer!
Now, is it a bit strange to write an alternative ending to the main series when the real ending is so close? Yes-but I consider this work my own tribute to this engaging series. I hope you've enjoyed this tribute as much as I enjoyed writing it! Updates are not scheduled, but I intend to publish bi-weekly, or whenever it is fit for securing a chapter's quality.
Addendum: A big thank you to user Waterfial for beta-reading my first chapter! I feel confident publishing this chapter now that I got some useful assistance!
Prologue: In Search of Lost Friends
"Future Foundation Urges Government to Reopen Hope's Peak Academy
TOKYO – The Future Foundation, having successfully contained bubbles of Ultimate Despair activity, are explicit about their desire to reopen the prestigious Hope's Peak Academy. 'Hope's Peak Academy,' a representative of the Future Foundation elaborated to the House of Representatives, 'is as much to thank for rebuilding the damage done by Ultimate Despair as the brave individuals who spearheaded Ultimate Despair's downfall. We must acknowledge there is still more work to be done to bring about a shining future, and we must be aware it will take the continued existence of people like those brave individuals to achieve prosperity. If Hope's Peak facilitated in the growth of those brave individuals who triumphed over Ultimate Despair, then a reopening of the academy may be integral to our prospective goals.'
Hope's Peak Academy . . ."
Makoto Naegi rose his eyes from his tablet to inspect the airport terminal. Escalators greeted his immediate vision, and bright rays of sunlight seeped through the left corner of his vision. He followed the hints of sunlight and saw a large window separating the airport terminal from the ramp and runway. The sun's brilliance overwhelmed him, so he quickly turned away from the window and stared at the escalators again. Their mechanical murmurings contrasted with the silence that inhabited the lobby.
Makoto yawned and leaned back into his leather seat. His hands moved the tablet to an adjacent seat. What use would the tablet be for him, when he could occupy himself with his surroundings?
The Future Foundation had kept Makoto busy: traveling to Europe for peace-talks between Czechoslovakia and the once aggressive country of Novoselic, building stable relations among warring African countries, and pacifying a potential civil war in the United States were what the leaders of the organization accepted as adequate compensation for his actions in Jabberwock Island. He, in spite of the meager pay, mostly enjoyed his work. He had to admit, though, that all of his humanitarian efforts, exciting as they may have sounded, only made him even more boring. After all, he was currently entertaining himself by drawing imaginary figures on an indistinct airport roof.
Makoto sighed, his hands on the back of his head. No, he couldn't fool himself that easily with a façade of boredom. A bitter realization dawned on him that morning day, and he could not distract himself from it: ambivalence is a far more impactful force than even the most acute despair. He could recall the dread of sliding closer and closer into a crushing and roaring instrument of death, constructed by a deranged mastermind for a certain Kyoko Kirigiri but capriciously forced onto him; he could also recall the horror disappearing immediately when Fortune's plan intended for his survival. The anxiety that justifiably encumbered his spirit when he confronted the near-deified Junko Enoshima AI would have incapacitated any lesser person, but it too disappeared, if only for a brief moment, when Sonia Nevermind learned her indecencies had been aired to an audience. His was not the most brilliant of intellects, but Makoto felt pride spread through him as he contemplated the ineffectual nature of despair. Ineffectual, at least, in comparison to the ambivalence he recognized even now.
"Hope's Peak Academy. I don't really know what to think about Hope's Peak Academy," Makoto thought.
Makoto liked the warmth of his hands on his scalp. He couldn't remember the last time he had laid his head on something like a fluffed pillow. The accommodations provided by the Future Foundation during his travels were Spartan, if plane seats and sleeping pads could be called anything. He had grown fond of his business suit as well. It lacked the calming embrace of a blanket, but it performed admirably as a prevalent substitute.
Makoto continued, "Improving the world by helping talented people reach their potential? There's nothing wrong with it on paper, but the administration of Hope's Peak took things way beyond 'on paper'. How they treated everyday people… what they did to Hajime… Do we really need that mindset coming back again?"
Makoto hadn't slept since he arrived at the airport. In spite of being the sole passenger of a hospitable jet (access to a jet and the private terminal he now resided in were some of the few genuine luxuries provided by the Future Foundation.), all the paperwork he had to review prevented him from resting. Frankly, he thought, Toko's irascible personality was perfectly understandable, since she had to carry the brunt of the heavy work in her capacity as an intern for the Future Foundation. his felt his brain pulsate within his skull.
"And Junko... she abused the school's good intentions to kickstart her insane plan. The Academy even let her do it. The Academy also let me stay, though. Let me stay… and meet my friends," Makoto considered.
The bags hanging under Makoto's eyes strained his last vestiges of strength. Waves of delirium swelled and receded in his mind, eroding the internal mechanisms that unjustly segregated the irregular chaos of the unconscious from its rebelliously regulated offspring, reality. The imaginary roof drawings took on a life of their own, dancing in celebration of his blurring vision to the music of the escalators growling just a distance away. Reality fizzled into the breast of Slumber.
As he descended into Her depths, Makoto recalled his friends, "Kyoko, Byakuya, Aoi, Yasuhiro, Toko… Sayaka, Leon, Chihiro, Mondo, Kiyotaka, Hifumi, Taeko, Sakura… even Junko. I… really do owe Hope's Peak a debt for meeting all of them."
Slumber would not take Makoto just yet, however, for he had made a venial error. A moment passed, and with its passing crept a wistful smile.
"Ah, how could I have forgotten about... Mukuro…" Makoto realized.
And with that realization, Makoto finally faded into her embrace.
"Well, I can't say I'm surprised by this."
"That makes two of us. I suppose Makoto hasn't completely disappointed me, at the very least."
"Aww! He's kind of cute when he's napping! Maybe not being the best greeter right now, though..."
"Dude, I wish I could be in his place right now. Been taking a beating to my chakra balance from... y'know, money problems."
"H-how'd you manage to get yourself into another mess?! On second thought, never mind: I know exactly how you'd sink your funds."
Familiar voices echoed in Makoto's unconscious, spurring him back into the waking world. With a groan, he opened his eyes and tilted his head to meet those voices. Standing around him were his five classmates from Hope's Peak Academy, each better groomed and better rested than him. They seemed to have made themselves comfortable waiting on him—ironic, considering he had arrived so early to wait for them—and they all could not help but be amused by his awakening. He wanted to laugh uproariously at how anemic of a host he was, but his ongoing transition into lucidity only allowed him to chuckle tiredly.
Makoto leaned his head back onto his hands and crossed his legs, exaggerating the pose he had been caught sleeping in. "Hey, guys. Glad to see you've finally made it!"
"And I'm glad our arrival has been so warmly acknowledged by a timely host," Kyoko Kirigiri replied, a hint of a smile escaping from her otherwise stoic face. She styled her hair into a knot tied by a black ribbon with two long strands of it reaching down to her front abdomen. She wore a plain black blazer over an equally indistinct white blouse, completed by a short pencil skirt, heeled boots, and a pouch wrapped around her left leg. Her black gloves remained as constant throughout the years as her diligence to incorporate practicality with aloof beauty. Gratitude flowed within Makoto when he caught the hint of a smile: if all the tribulations Kyoko and Makoto had overcome were necessary for the emergence of that expression, then he would cherish despair itself for birthing such a lovely smile.
"Self-deprecation won't earn you any points from me. But... It's good to see you again, Makoto," Byakuya Togami said softly, deigning to give a genuine smile. Little had changed in his appearance since Makoto last saw him: he wore a black business suit like Makoto's, although his was impeccably clean in comparison to Makoto's more visibly worn attire. His hair had grown a bit thicker, Makoto noted, and its growth highlighted that certain Togami nobility he embodied. Makoto also noted that said nobility seemed to have been tempered by something encapsulated in Byakuya's smile, and he was glad for it.
"Makoto! It's a good thing I've arrived: we need to get you energized with some physical activity!" Aoi Asahina waved a hand at Makoto and grinned. She wore a black blazer and an olive green tie over a standard button-up shirt, shorts accompanied by leggings, and tennis shoes. The style combined business with casual, perhaps to demonstrate how she had matured while keeping her perky nature intact. She still had a ponytail, but the downward angle of it suggested to Makoto that she was beginning to entertain the idea of being more 'feminine' with her hair. He was enthusiastic for the day when the idea would become reality.
"Yo man, long time no see! Want me to give you some chants to ward off lethargy? This one's on the house!" Yasuhiro Hagakure guffawed after he greeted Makoto, which made Makoto briefly doubt how sincere he was about the free lesson. He presented himself strangely: a business suit, wrist-watch, and glasses (which, given his strategy for roping in customers, Makoto concluded were purely cosmetic and only worn to present an appearance of credibility) suggested a professional; rolled up trousers, sandals, a loose hanging green tie lazily wrapped around an unbuttoned collar, outrageously unkempt hair, and the fact that he didn't even tuck his arms into the suit 'jacket' revealed a sloven. Makoto ultimately decided that Hiro was Hiro and that he was simply too tired to be anything but happy to see him.
"... I guess I was wrong: Komaru definitely wouldn't develop a complex over you. Haha, n-not to say you're a bad guy. It's just, you see, you're acting so immature after being caught sleeping like a sloth and—and I'll shut up now." Toko's tone and countenance sputtered out in much of the same way her attempt at a jocular comment did, but Makoto appreciated the effort. Byakuya once snorted at the mere suggestion of a servicer not keeping themselves tidy and formal at all times. This sentiment compelled Toko to remodel herself: she wore a sleek black business suit with stockings, dress pumps, and a slit skirt; her long black hair was tied into a singular braid, and she accessorized it with six hairclips. Makoto was proud for his sister when he observed the results of her friendship with Toko.
"Yeah, looks like there's no denying I was caught napping." Makoto rose from his seat, tablet and luggage in hand. "Seriously, though, it's been too long since we were all in one place. In some ways, this reunion is already a success!"
Byakuya pointed a finger at Makoto. "Hmph, it's so like you to be easily contented. Don't you remember the day's just begun?"
"Byakuya's right, we haven't even gotten breakfast yet!" Aoi added with puffed cheeks.
"Ha! Then let's make sure today's worth the flying and sleep deprivation!" Makoto declared with a bright smile.
Makoto's confidence warmed and comforted his friends. Even Kyoko, cool-headed by nature, had to bask in his determination. "Lead the way, Makoto."
The street corner bustled from the daily travels of numerous Tokyo citizens as Makoto and his friends sat in a secluded area of the corner's restaurant. The restaurant had a quaint atmosphere, with the smell of black coffee permeating the air and its bright yellow walls mimicking the hue of narcissus flowers. The light pretense emphasized the exclusivity of the restaurant, though Byakuya reserved seating in a blasé manner nonetheless. The party were grateful for Byakuya's discriminating tastes, and Makoto in particular marveled at the quality of his pancakes with eggs. Sitting to the right of a window once again, Makoto enjoyed the exhibition of everyday life most of all.
"Clear as a crisp spring morning..." Makoto said idly.
Hiro sipped his coffee. "I'll tell you what's as clear as a crisp spring morning: this coffee!"
"What're you poeticizing about? I kind of like the interior here myself," Toko asked.
"Oh? I'm just people-watching, I guess," Makoto replied.
"Don't cut yourself short, Makoto," Kyoko said. "Seeing society operate is a good activity. You can't appreciate work if you don't see its results, right?"
"Heh, you could say that. A shepherd who never bothers to know their sheep is doomed. I'm making sure I keep my sheep in order," Byakuya said.
"I would be worried about your way of putting it, but I think you've got good intentions," Aoi muttered in between drinking a protein shake and chomping on a donut. "Plus, I really owe you one! I haven't had this great of a breakfast since who knows when!"
Makoto peeked through the window and saw a young mother smile lovingly at her light-haired, cooing baby. "Isn't it wonderful, though? That we and everyone else can live this life?"
Toko, having also caught a glimpse of the blossoming family, grew rose-red. "M-master Byakuya, if you desire, I can be the best and happiest caretaker of your—"
"Only in an alternative universe could that happened. Even then, the probability is only barely above zero." Byakuya's rejection carried the authority of a lightning bolt.
Aoi snickered. "Leaving you two love birds alone, I totally agree! Whenever I feel a bit down, all I gotta do is go for a run or swim and look at the world we've helped, and I get pumped! Seeing so many people just be people... It reminds me that I'm a part of something bigger than myself, y'know?"
Hiro stroked his goatee. "I might not look it, but I've got similar sentiments. Like, have I told you guys about my new project? I've been organizing a partnership between the Future Foundation and TAT Television. Basically, I suggested to both of 'em that TV could inspire audiences as much as it can entertain them, and the Future Foundation agreed, so the higher-ups drafted a show highlighting the hopes of humanity. TAT accepted the proposal, and now we're going to produce the best television we can offer! Pretty sweet, huh?"
Byakuya smirked and finished up a lightly topped English muffin. "I must say, there are times where even I am impressed by your intermittent instances of competence. Though, considering you had nepotism on your side, can we really say it was your doing?"
"HEY! Way to call the bowl or whatever black, Mr. rich family teapot! And it's not like that, I just have a direct line to the head of TAT Television—totally friendly line to him, may I add!" Hiro shouted.
Byakuya's rebuttal came swiftly. "The idiom is, 'the pot calling the kettle black,' firstly. Secondly, I arrived at my status through my own means, whereas you simply bumbled into the good graces of a girl who herself is only wealthy because of her father's work."
"Whatever man, I'm still helping people!"
"Hiro, I'm happy to hear that things are going well for you––both professionally and personally," Kyoko chimed in.
"Whoa, thanks Kyoko! I guess I must be doing something right if you're on my side!" Hiro cheered, oblivious to Kyoko's loaded language. She smiled knowingly.
Makoto observed the development of the conversation and felt a familiar hesitation wash over him. Unfortunately, its arrival was not concomitant with any encroaching weariness, so he knew he couldn't escape the conflict this time. Hope's Peak Academy and the Future Foundation screamed in his mind, both challenging him and both soothing him in their paradoxical unity. A beam of sunlight burst through the sparsely clouded sky and restaurant window, blinding him temporarily. He considered the possibility that the painful light dulled his inhibitions enough to allow him to speak, but he, perhaps still stuck in a state of sleepy delirium, chose to interpret the event as a call to action: he would place his faith on his friends' sympathies and take the leap.
"Is anyone else bothered by what the Future Foundation is doing?"
It surprised Makoto to see his sudden question receive an equally unexpected response.
"Their interest in restarting Hope Peak Academy concerns me as well." Kyoko's face darkened.
"Exactly—wait, how'd you know I was thinking about Hope's Peak Academy?..."
"I saw the news article on your tablet, and it seemed reasonable to assume you'd be troubled by it. Plus... I had been thinking a lot about it before I arrived. I suppose you could call it an intuition from empathy."
Toko groaned. "Ugh, can I tell you all the ways I don't want this to happen? Not only has the paperwork been a nightmare, but it also reminds me too much of Towa City... Komaru and I both discovered there how awful things can get if people obsess over reviving the past."
"Paperwork? So there's more going on than just a suggestion?" Makoto inquired.
"Ah!" Toko cried. "I m-mean, I didn't make any big decisions or am privy to any of the specific details, but being an intern has some perks."
Byakuya glared at the trio discussing Hope's Peak Academy with lion's eyes. When Toko revealed her knowledge, he pounced. "Toko, what do you have to offer them—and me?"
"Master," Toko purred, "the world—and more. Like I said, I didn't have access to all the confidential material, but I can confirm that the higher-ups already have the logistical and administrative plans worked out. Honestly, I think all they need now is a government sanction to begin construction."
Makoto sunk into his seat as he heard this revelation. His sight drifted across his friends sluggishly, searching for one expression of stability. Faces depicting an alien sensation—a stranger of perturbation and even despair—greeted him; Perhaps instead, the faces merely reflected the foreign look back at him, identifying him as the interloper and mocking him with an effigy. The truth was not for him to know.
"I..." Aoi said, breaking the silence, "I like the idea. I got to be where I am because I had heroes to look up to. Was I just born to swim? Definitely. But there's more to it than that. When I was younger, Yuta––Yuta and I used to always watch the Olympics. We'd huddle together in a big blanket, watch the best of the best claw their way to victory, and bet on which of us would end up on the big screen with a gold medal first. Every time I swam for fun or for a competition, I would always think about those televised events, those gold medals, and those bets you make when you're young and just want to one-up your bratty little brother... What I'm trying to get at here is seeing heroes made me want to be one. Hope's Peak Academy was all about showcasing our future heroes, and if there's any time when people need something to hope for, it's now."
"Yes," Byakuya challenged, "present people with a facile picture of hope: hope––but born only from prodigies––championed by ultimates––but ultimates who know only isolation––to parade to the populace––but only a pathetic and servile populace. I am not kindred spirits with the common man, but, if I have learned anything from our time together, I have learned that the most regular person is just as much a possible source of hope as the ultimates. Hope's Peak Academy deluded itself and deluded its students: what came of those delusions besides jealousy, destruction, and despair? As an experiment, the academy failed. That our superiors took all the wrong lessons from this failure reminds me why I even bother to remain a member: someone needs to succeed them and lead the organization properly."
"Wait a minute, Byakuya," Makoto interjected. "We both have firsthand knowledge of how badly Hope's Peak Academy screwed up directly creating hope, but I think you're trying to ignore their indirect successes."
"Oh?" Byakuya sneered at Makoto. "Weren't you the one who brought up the obvious problem of a new Hope's Peak Academy? Before you make a fool of yourself, do at least present a somewhat compelling case for my willful ignorance: what am I leaving out? Come on now, out with it."
"I don't mean to be cheeky," Makoto answered with poise, "but you're staring right at some of the indirect successes of Hope's Peak Academy. We met because of Hope's Peak, and the sheltered environment we all had to live in forced us to understand each other. You've just admitted you wouldn't have grown as a person were it not for Hope's Peak, so it's strange to see you portray it as a completely negative place."
"That's right," Kyoko declared. "The ultimate affluent progeny would be just as deluded as the administration of Hope's Peak Academy if he didn't just so happen to attend the very same academy. I, more than anyone here, have the largest incentive to reject the idea that Hope's Peak helped me grow up, but, even with all the corruption I know lurked in the school's heart, I can't deny the idea any more than I can deny my friendships born in Hope's Peak. I'm completely with you in doubting the wisdom of this plan, but I don't think you want to admit that you're like Makoto and everyone else here in sympathizing with the idea of a new Hope's Peak."
The silent room shook and time itself paused at the power of Kyoko's deduction. Aside from Toko skittishly looking at the debaters, no one moved from their positions prior to the debate. Byakuya glared at his two opponents with an intense but ambiguous expression. He then laughed.
"Just like old times," Byakuya said. "I always said you must embrace the truth, no matter how unpleasant it appears. I suppose I do have a certain fondness for Hope's Peak Academy, then. We're now right back at square one: we don't hate Hope's Peak, but we don't completely support it either. Now isn't this a conundrum? Makoto, I believe I have a method of determining the solution to this problem, if you're willing to humor me."
"Um... sure? What do you have in mind?" Makoto asked.
"Let's play a game, maybe one that involves one-pocket pool: if you win that pool game, I'll allow you to ask me whatever inane questions you desire to have answered regarding my time at Hope's Peak; if I win that pool game, I'm allowed to ask what precisely made you enjoy your time at Hope's Peak. Do we have a deal?"
A droplet of sweat fell from Makoto's forehead, staining the otherwise solid green cue table he had flinched back from. The ceiling light's sterile light fell on the result of his ineptitude: the absence of the cue ball indicated a scratch, and the surprisingly neat arrangement of object balls showed that little playing actually occurred. He could feel the smug satisfaction of his opponent across the table suffocate him, and all he could muster as a response was a sheepish laugh and a downcast face.
"Ultimate 'lucky' student… Sure, I guess this is luck…" Makoto thought. Though a more self-aware part of him acknowledged he had entered this no-win situation voluntarily and thus was fully to blame for this outcome, he reasoned that he deserved this pretend persecution for once. He wanted to just quietly escape to the round booth his friends, who had watched the lopsided game, were sitting in and make nothing of this unfortunate game. Before he could act, however, Byakuya made the first move.
"When it comes down to skill and intelligence, the real superior becomes obvious," Byakuya taunted. The harsh lighting of the bar, a high-class establishment with a deliberately shady aesthetic, emphasized his assertive features.
"Wow, um, that didn't go quite as well as I wanted it to."
"This is the first time I've seen someone scratch three times in a row. You deserve to know, as a reward for this accomplishment, that I have played against more challenging children."
"Whatever, you win. Can we just go back to the table and—"
"Hold it. We arranged this game to determine who would have to ramble about school days. I expect you to leave no memory unturned and no emotions unexpressed. That is the decree of the victor."
"W-what?! I remember what I agreed to! I don't get why you're so insistent about this idea, but... I won't back down! If I can't compete in this game, at least I can show you that I can hold my end of the bargain!" Makoto exclaimed. He noted something odd, though: usually, Byakuya would be taken aback by his bursts of energy, but after he launched his declaration, Byakuya appeared nonchalant. His eyes aimed right at Byakuya and received an image of him, still with a satisfied smirk, looking at something around the booth where his guests were sitting. He clenched his hand lightly.
"I think you're still playing a game, and this pool match was just a trap."
"You might be right, or you might be wrong. That is for me to decide and for you to find out. Now, let's begin our discussion with the rest of the group."
Makoto released his grip and sighed. "I guess I'll learn soon enough. Well, can't put it off, can I? Let's head back."
"Makoto, you kind of suck at pool," Toko said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," Makoto said, "it's nice to know you care enough to notice..."
"Hey, anyone challenging master is going to lose, but I can at least hope for something interesting when you're involved—being cool with your lucky turnabouts and all."
"Oh, you think I'm cool?" Makoto asked with genuine surprise.
"...! Komaru's words, not mine!" Toko's normally pale face turned pallid.
"Maybe 'cool' isn't the right word: 'motivational' might be what you're looking for?" Kyoko suggested. She glanced at Makoto and winked as she said 'motivational'; he nodded with a grin. Toko whispered a meek, "Yeah, that's it," then scurried back into her own thoughts.
Makoto looked at a clock near the group's booth: it was 10:30 P.M. Were it not for the clock and the dark windows, he would have guessed it was still sometime in the morning, even though he and his friends had gone to a baseball game after breakfast and had an evening dinner at the bar they were currently in. The minor migraine he felt informed him that this temporal confusion could be due to sleep deprivation, and he would have been happy to accept that explanation if he did not also feel a pang of melancholy when recalling the baseball game. The pain from the headache—a dulling agent which expanded continuously and replaced any higher-level thoughts pushed out with a shallow singularity—proved somewhat helpful in reminding him that he still existed right in the presumed present. The memories of a baseball game (and of a baseball star he once knew or knows) were of the past, as all memories are, he told himself.
"What an amusing baseball game today, Makoto. But you have to agree with me when I say we've seen better, right?" Byakuya asked suddenly.
"Huh?" Makoto returned back to time. "Well of course. Don't you remember the spring showdown during our first year at Hope's Peak Academy?"
Aoi's eyes sparkled. "Oh yeah! We reached the final game of the year! Us versus the best school Kansai had to offer! I knew we were going to win, but it was such a close match that I definitely remember nearly falling out of my seat from sitting too close to its edge!"
"Huh? I don't remember any big playoff!" Hiro said.
"You were banned from going within 100 meters of the school's baseball stadium, if you must need assistance," Byakuya said. "Specifically, the school didn't think you setting up shop immediately outside the entrance and offering to divine the results of the game—'for the low, low price of $1000 per prediction,' you advertised––painted a flattering image of them. If you're wondering how I know this, I was the one who reported your activity to the school after you wasted my time during the first game of winter season."
"Hm..." Hiro searched through his memory. "Yeah, now I remember! Honestly, I owe you a solid: not being allowed to actually see the games somehow tuned up my instincts, so my accuracy went up to 45%! Plus, I had to find a new way to provide my services, so I set up a little online server with Chihiro and Taeko. People could gamble for who would win the games AND pay me to help 'em make the best choice! It was a win-win for everyone!"
"Gambling is illegal, you know," Kyoko stated.
"W-what?! But Taeko told me it was a completely legitimate business venture!" Hiro shrieked, sweat already precipitating on his forehead.
Kyoko looked incredulous. "You... trusted the 'Queen of Liars' without fact-checking?... Don't worry, I was just... kidding. You're fine. Just... fine as you."
"Ah, Kyoko, don't scare me like that! I can't go to prison! I know the mafia'll have eyes and ears there, and I'm still not out of the clear just yet." Hiro relaxed into his seat, but not before doing a nervous scan of the establishment.
"What I want to know is how you and Taeko roped Chihiro into this," Makoto said.
"Yeah, Taeko did most of the negotiating: something about really needing the money for an important thing. I remember Chihiro looking pretty happy when he finished the network and wishing Taeko 'had a great time with him'. Never did find out what she did with her share of the profit, though," Hiro answered.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I know what she did with her money," Makoto said. "When we came back from winter break, Hifumi and Taeko were almost inseparable. I was pretty happy for both of them, but I wanted to know what changed the two's relationship. I mean, they were already an odd pair, but Taeko seemed genuinely considerate of Hifumi now. I asked Hifumi about it, and he told me that he and Taeko had went to a huge fanfiction convention in spite of Hifumi's lack of funds. Apparently Taeko paid for both of their travel costs and helped advertise Hifumi's new fanfiction. Hifumi was so grateful for everything Taeko had done for him that he promised to forever be by the side of... Um, what was the term he used again?... Oh yeah, his 'Japanese English rose'."
"So, Taeko used the money from the gambling server to fund a trip with Hifumi. Knowing this, it's almost as if the two had feelings for one another," Kyoko said teasingly. "Did you ever approach Taeko about Hifumi's testimony?"
Makoto grinned. "Do you really think I'm that much of a gossip? Well yes, detective, I did talk to Taeko to get her side of the story. She gave me the most honest response she could give."
Kyoko leaned in towards Makoto. "Oh? What was it?"
"She hid her face in her hands and excused herself without saying another word," Makoto said, laughing afterwards.
Kyoko chuckled along. "I must agree with your conclusion, then."
"I knew those two had something going on!" Aoi yelled. "They always did everything together. I even remember them sitting next to each other in the baseball game and just looking bored when it was getting so epic! Man, I was pretty ticked off: they should have been cheering! Applauding! Heck, I would have taken crying too! I was about to tell them to get their act together before Sakura stopped me."
Toko rolled her eyes. "Did she repeat some obscure epigram about letting people do what they will? That's totally something I'd expect from her. She always did sound like she walked out of a fortune cookie factory."
Aoi frowned. "Excuse me? Maybe if you spend less time in bookland and more time exercising your actual muscles, you'll realize how smart Sakura is!"
"I do think Sakura is smart... or was, at least. I was at that game too, right next to you and Sakura. I didn't even plan on going at first, but Sakura insisted I come along with her. Looking back on it, I... had fun."
"I... I see. I'm sorry I got snappy with you, and I'm sorry I didn't remember that you respected Sakura."
Toko put a finger on her lips and averted eye contact. "I-it's no big deal. Geez, you shouldn't be so maudlin when we're talking about a baseball game."
"Heheh, I guess you're right," Aoi said bashfully.
Toko raised the finger from her lips to the air and raised her eyes. "Of course I'm right! Wouldn't the Aoi I know be busy jumping in the air about how that one homerun in the spring game was super awesome or something?!"
Aoi nearly rocked the table with the vigor of her fist-pump. "Heck yeah she would be! And not just any super awesome homerun! I'm thinking about the one by my man Leon that gave us the clutch win!"
"That homerun sure was exciting, but wasn't the victory rush cool too? I couldn't stop cheering when I saw Leon hold that gold trophy up in the air!" Makoto added abruptly.
"Huh? Leon didn't hold the trophy. He passed it to someone else and just threw his cap in the air. That was neat too, but everyone cheered for the actual play more," Aoi said.
"Oh, right! Hahaha! My bad, guess my memory's not perfect. Anyways, sure, everyone loved the homerun, but you can't just focus on one part when the big picture is as impressive, right? Now, for me, the best part was when––"
"Makoto, why are you trying to avoid the homerun?" Kyoko asked.
Makoto visibly twitched and slowly turned his head from Aoi to Kyoko. "W-what are you talking about? I'm not trying to avoid anything. Haha, why would you even think... how could you figure..."
"Are you going to say your blush and wavering voice are just coincidences?"
"B-blush?!" Makoto's hands hastily felt his face. "This isn't... I mean... No, that's wrong!"
Kyoko smirked, and she was not alone: the rest of the group rallied behind her charge against Makoto. Aoi laughed jovially alongside Toko, who was barely suppressing laughter. Byakuya looked slyly at him while wagging a finger at him, and Hiro gave a hearty shake to his shoulder. "Save your energy for a trial you can actually win," Kyoko declared.
Makoto massaged his forehead. This defeat only exacerbated his migraine. "You can't be serious... Am I just life's punching bag today? This still doesn't qualify as my worst day ever... But it's close. Fine, I don't want to talk about that homerun."
"And why's that?" Kyoko asked.
"Not to be rude, but you should already know why it's... embarrassing."
Kyoko tilted her head slightly. "Should I?"
"Wait, you don't remember?"
"I don't. Look, if it's a genuinely painful memory, we can stop talking about this."
"No! It's not anything traumatic. In fact, maybe you guys will enjoy my little, err, story. And besides," Makoto took a moment to smile, "I don't want to see you get worried about me."
"Open like a book..." Kyoko brushed her hair to the side slowly. "I think everyone here wants to hear what you have to say."
"Ok," Makoto began, "so I was sitting in a middle row of the stadium with Kyoko and Sayaka. The three of us were invested in the game, but Sayaka especially kept watch of a certain Leon Kuwata's performance. The two had made an agreement earlier that if Leon tried his hardest in the game, she would go on a date with him. Throughout most of the game, it looked like Leon was fulfilling that promise. The other team was good, though, and we reached the final stretch of the game on a tie. Anxiety permeated the air, but we had hope in our hearts. After all, Leon was batting this turn."
"Can we cut past the exposition? We all know the circumstances surrounding the game itself," Byakuya said.
Makoto grimaced. "Y-yes, of course. Leon's bat collided with the ball and sent it rocketing through the air! My heart nearly leaped out of my chest, but my hands went up in the air all the same. I wanted to catch that flying ball and collect a piece of history. The ball did fly at my general direction, but..."
"But?" Toko asked warily.
"... It soared just a bit too high for my hands to reach. It wasn't too high to hit someone's loosely held popcorn bag above my head, though."
Kyoko's eyes widened slowly. "Someone behind Makoto with popcorn? Mondo..."
"Right. The last guy you want to inconvenience."
"Mondo nearly tore his seat from its bolting when his popcorn suddenly disappeared. Frankly, it was a miracle Sayaka and I managed to calm him down enough for him to reaize Makoto didn't somehow knock his popcorn away, and that was with Taka and Chihiro by his side. We could have used your help in pacifying him, but you had disappeared––to the bathroom, you explained, when we finally reunited with you outside the stadium," Kyoko said.
"I see now... You don't remember what I did because you couldn't have."
Kyoko raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't have?"
Makoto shrugged. "You were preoccupied with calming Mondo down, so you didn't notice how I had stumbled away from the area and when. I left at around the same time Mondo freaked out. Not intentionally of course, because..."
Makoto paused to add dramatic flair. He noted a surprisingly tense expression on Byakuya's face––as if some unpleasant thought dawned on him––and was happy his pause elicited its intended reaction from at least one person.
"... I was walking around with a popcorn bag over my head."
The group, originally silent for politeness's sake, were now taciturn out of confusion. Makoto concluded his friends were trying to visualize the ridiculous image and failing. Lives perennially drenched in the surreal are no more resilient to additional absurdities, no how banal those absurdities are; this truth revealed itself when a group accustomed to a former serial killer couldn't quite comprehend the image. One member reacted differently, however.
"You," Byakuya spat. "It was you."
"It was me?" Makoto looked at Byakuya but quickly cowered back. Byakuya's scowl froze the hitherto warm air of the table. "H-hey Byakuya, did I d-do something wrong?..."
"Did you do something wrong? When you were bumbling about like the blind idiot you are, did you, oh, I don't know, bump into a person?"
"I... did do a lot of bumping into things that felt like people."
"I was minding my own business leaving when the game's conclusion was evident, but just what could happen to spoil my mood? Some imbecile with a popcorn bag over their head pushes me to the stadium's railings, making me drop my phone onto the ground level of the stadium! I would have stopped the fool dead in their tracks and ruined them if acquiring my phone wasn't the greater priority."
"Oh crap! I don't think I've seen Byakuya this livid!" Makoto thought, too frightened to speak at that moment. He regained his composure shortly thereafter, however. "It was completely my fault that happened. I didn't know what was going on at the time––I didn't even know why everything went dark––but that doesn't excuse my mistake. Since I damaged your property, I'll be happy to remunerate you with anything you'd like."
Byakuya shook his head. "The lowest appropriate price would be higher than your entire life earnings twice over. Therefore... I grant you clemency. Rejoice, for you have done nothing to earn this grace, popcorn head."
"P-popcorn head?!"
"There are some kernels of insight in your head, but they require external pressure far greater than anything you can muster in order to be realized. Apropos, isn't it?" Byakuya mocked.
"To be honest, I kind of like it!" Aoi said.
Hiro gave a thumbs up. "I'm down with it."
Toko nearly swooned."Master Byakuya, always so perceptive!"
"I'm not wholly against this nickname," Kyoko said, hiding a clear smile behind her hand.
Makoto sighed. "Whoopie, another nickname for me... Can I finish my story now? Following the changes of volume, I managed to find my way to the indoor section of the stadium. When I couldn't hear anyone around me, I felt relieved. I figured I could find out why I couldn't see anything and why everything smelled faintly of butter if I were someplace relatively isolated. Thinking I was alone, I tried to feel my face. Something happened, though: suddenly, cold hands gripped my shoulders, and as soon as I could recognize that someone was touching me, a massive force pushed me. In my panic, I tried finding something to stabilize myself. I got distracted, though; I heard a laugh, coming from nowhere because it was everywhere. It rang with a childlike glee: 'puhuhuhu'."
The shadows of the people and things around the table crawled, threatening to overtake the things in the light. Such a seizure would have been superfluous, however, for the disturbed expressions on everyone's face carried the same message of dread the darkness did. The ersatz laugh from Makoto was more than enough to summon the foul aura she truly existed as, all within that instant before the group could even think. The origin of this pressure suffusing their presence with malevolence differed in response to the pressure, though. Makoto, who evoked Junko's evil, sat resilient to her––in fact, he had the serene countenance of a man who recalled a happy but lost time.
"I was saved, though. Just when I felt myself slip on my own feet, two warm hands held my chest and stopped my momentum. I wanted to remain still for a second or two to try and process what had occurred, but the warm hands lifted me up. When I was back on my feet, I got enough of my senses back to ask if anyone was there. I didn't get a response at first, but I felt a dull touch on my forehead. The touch became a deliberate tug, and with the tug came the lifting of my blindness. My eyes adjusted from the darkness to see Mukuro in front of me, a popcorn bag in her hand."
"Mukuro? You were saved by that crazy chick?" Hiro asked.
Makoto smiled, staring off into space. "I wanted to thank her for helping me, but I was still too embarrassed by the truth to really say much. While I was standing dumbstruck, Junko appeared from behind me and laughed. She and Mukuro weren't staying for the endgame celebration and were hanging out in the stadium when I stumbled in. Junko figured out it was me under that bag and decided to play a 'light-hearted prank' on me. The three of us talked for a bit, Mukuro making it clear that she also recognized me from under the bag but wanted to help instead. We parted ways, but not before Mukuro advised me to say that I went to the restroom if anyone asked where I went. I followed her advice, though a bit doubtful it would work. Now I see that it did."
"This certainly was a surprising story," Kyoko said.
"Surprising? Yes. Enlightening?" Byakuya grinned. "Also a yes."
"Heh, you don't know the half of it. Mukuro rescues me from off-the-wall scenarios all the time. This isn't even a story that describes us two well: it's too mundane, y'know? Like, there was this one time when I went to the medical bay..." Makoto rambled, stopping only when he realized his throat felt heavy.
Byakuya cleared his throat, regaining Makoto's attention. "In fact, I think your answer to my question has been so enlightening that I don't need to beat around the bush any longer."
Makoto gave Byakuya a stern look. "This is about the game, isn't it? So what was it supposed to accomplish?"
"Since you were forthcoming with results, I'll be forthcoming with explanations: I asked something I knew you'd relate back to Hope's Peak Academy because I wanted to see how you and the rest of your peers would discuss that thing without tainting the subject with the school's possible return. You all performed perfectly: the immediate talk pertaining to Hope's Peak was positive, with it remaining so very nostalgic throughout. In spite of the grim future you now know awaited most of your friends, you even spoke of them as if they were still living. Like it or not, you've defined Hope's Peak by its people, and you very much like them."
The reactions of the group to Byakuya's revelation varied: two were shocked, two were pensive, and one was entranced. Since Makoto played the most integral part of Byakuya's game, he figured he should be the one to draw it to a conclusion. Did he truly view Hope's Peak Academy as a net good? He would find out only if he pressed on.
"So, you're saying I liked Hope's Peak Academy more than I disliked it?"
"That I am."
"And that satisfaction came from the friends I made in Hope's Peak?"
"That seems evident: you even presented Junko and Mukuro as close friends. You should hate both of them, but here you are remembering their good over their bad."
"Mostly Mukuro, but even Junko had her moments... Why make this game, though? We all already made it clear we both wanted and not wanted Hope's Peak Academy to return, so elaborating more on what Hope's Peak meant for us doesn't really get us anywhere."
Byakuya shook his head. "It does get us somewhere. How did you first feel when the conversation mentioned Hope's Peak?"
"... Happy. I was happy."
"Then we should support rebuilding Hope's Peak Academy."
"What?"
"It's something you pick up from business: when there is no one rational option, go with your first response."
Makoto's stern face quivered into a confused expression. "Wait just a second, earlier today you seemed to take the opposite stance about Hope's Peak Academy. You were the one proclaiming it was a failure that should be put to rest. If I'm right, opposing the plan was your gut feeling, so why are you now going against your gut?"
"Ah, but wasn't it you who recognized I made an error in not admitting I was ambivalent? You see, I completely tricked myself into thinking I had a firm stance on the issue. When you and Kyoko showed me this mistake, I had to laugh for two reasons: one, it was just like old times; two, my first response to Hope's Peak Academy when I understood that I had no clear position was positive. Honestly, for the 'ultimate hope', you should be less cautious about taking leaps of faith."
"But what about the downsides? The system could be abused so easily..."
"It's not going to be easy, but we've taken risks before. Besides, we can use those downsides to guide our rebuilding. If the reserve course created an unsustainable pyramid system, find alternative sources of funding. If the school's environment placed a great amount of stress on vulnerable people, make sure to provide exemplary mental health facilities for those people. If anyone commits a serious crime, don't try and save face by hiding their offenses."
Makoto grabbed his chin. A solid minute passed before he interacted with the world again. He glimpsed at Kyoko for a moment. She looked resolutely at him. He stood in his seat now, and in spite of his diminutive build, he radiated with a brilliance like the sun's.
"We have some say in the Future Foundation's plans: if we want Hope's Peak Academy to come back, then we're going to let them know how we want it to be reopened. I want Hope's Peak Academy to return––and not for any logical or obvious reason. It's just where my heart leads me to. Kyoko and Byakuya are here with me, but it just isn't right if we're not all in this together. So, who's with us?"
An hour ago, six graduates of Hope's Peak Academy unanimously agreed to rebuild the school with their own hands. As Makoto lay on his hotel bed, still wearing the suit he had already slept in, he looked at his ceiling. The ceiling fan spun in mechanical perfection above him, clicking and altering the lighting of the room in a now familiar pattern. The pillow below his head must have been made of clouds, for it had been a while since he had rested his head on something so soft.
The party, after making their pact, all acknowledged that it had been a long day. Lassitude had swept through even the more nocturnal or active ones, as both Aoi and Kyoko yawned during the drive to the hotel. Makoto's migraine, once a background nuisance, now was an obnoxious pecking. Once again, he could feel the walls of order decay and the obsidian goo from which all dreams bubble from ooze into his mind.
Makoto welcomed his approaching Slumber. Some of his best thinking happened during the periods immediately preceding and succeeding sleep, and the period when he was asleep contained so many avenues for escapism. He couldn't count the number of dreams, for example, where he was a space traveler who saved planets and discovered hundreds of alien societies. Perhaps it was due to his worldly nature, but his favorite dreams were not as grandiose in their substance. In fact, he thought in a daze as he slowly closed his eyes, his favorite dream was now a reality.
If Hope's Peak Academy were to ever exist again, Makoto wished it would only be so if all fifteen of his friends approved of it. Five of them vocalized their affirmation, but he realized there was more to the decision than just the five he heard. As he recalled the ten friends who did not have voices, he sensed an intensity which surpassed mere voice. They all persisted inside him, energized and opinionated, and they all agreed with the decision. His last thoughts before he met Slumber were jubilant: Sixteen students entered the school just before its death, and sixteen friends would leave its ruins to make a new home.
Prologue: In Search of Lost Friends
END