AN: Super sorry I was a late update on this. Spent a lot of time on Skyrim and personal stories, and just remembered to update here now. I'll make it up to you with another update tomorrow, promise. Maybe another after that, to make up for lost time. Enjoy the show.
Kiyotaka Ishimaru was late.
He'd never been so before. Over the two eventful years she'd known the class, Taka had been the one person she could never apply the term towards. Just... discipline this, regulations that, politeness there, responsibility all the way...
It had been fun to be told off - she wasn't a masochist. Yet, anyhow... there had to be some despair found in pain, so maybe she counted? Emotionally? But anyhow, Taka was fun precisely because he wasn't, what with that stick up his ass so far up he poked people in the face with it whenever he went on about violations and curfew.
But he was late. Which was a first for her, despite everything she'd experienced throughout her admittedly strange nineteen years of life.
Was she being stood up? It was despair-inducing. To be neglected, her time disregarded, her presence igno-
Yeah, she might just be a masochist. Cool.
The brains of the Despair sisters stretched her fingers over the controls, rubbing some warmth into her stiffened digits. People really didn't get the nuances of nearly 24-7 robot piloting. It was hell on your hands, screwed with your peripheral vision, screwed with your primary vision (she'd swear she'd actually need those glasses she wore to mess with people), and just led to neglecting your physical body.
Don't get her wrong, of course. Junko knew her body was hot - sleek but curved, with just enough fat to round off the edges and taper down like those damn good dresses she designed. She wasn't at risk of blobbing up like Hifumi or going all gonk like that fat chef she'd instructed to start teaching people what they could make with long pork.
It. Just. Sucked. Stuck. Behind. The. Controls.
So Junko Enoshima took a well-deserved break from her helicopter headmastering, eating a healthy meal prepared for her by the Ultimate Chef. An olive and cherry tomato salad topped with minced scallion and diced basil leaves, wrapped in a plastic Tupperware with her own lovely mascot staring back at her, wicked grin and gleaming eye. She crossed her legs and placed the meal box on her lap.
There was some despair in self-neglect, but ultimately it was boring. Too predictable, with the body wasting away in such mundane, clinical ways. Like Sayaka, who just had a habit of doing that in the good old days, though never quite to the same extent as now. The Ultimate Analyst wasn't some ditsy despair fetishist - she was a connoisseur of the emotion, thank you very much. This required extraneous circumstances to observe, and that meant self-care to get there, as bizarre as her followers had found that tidbit.
Admittedly, the concept took a while to take root - even longer to make sense. Miaya really was the Ultimate Psychologist, teaching someone like her the concept of maintenance. She would have been a really, really good remnant. Shame the boys in suits already nabbed her before she could.
The meal was rich, robust, and flavorful. Ergo, boring. It went down mechanically.
Then came plain mineral water - who said she didn't have anything in common with her sister?
Then came the exercise. Ten minutes on the treadmill on a program - she'd do the other twenty when everyone else was asleep.
There was so much more to the game that her dear classmates didn't get. Like making sure everyone got fed long enough to kill each other, making sure the buzzkill hope guys couldn't breach the outer walls, coordinating their little human DDOS attacks with her Remnant upperclassmen, and keeping herself fit out of personal standards.
If she hadn't already been living large in despair a long time ago, Junko was sure to have gotten there through the sheer, back-breaking workload.
On that cheery, bureaucratic note, the Ultimate Analyst ended her power run, changing into a clean sleeveless top and knee-high shorts.
And the Ultimate Moral Compass was staring at her, eyes all red and intimidating.
Well, not at her per se. At the bear that was her. Kinda? She scrambled towards the controls, fidgeting until her pet mascot stirred from standby mode.
"Well, look who it is! Fancy you being all late and bothered. Way to keep a girl waiting, birdbrain." Monokuma called out, sputtering to life.
The prefect looked perplexed, eyebrows all scrunched in what could best be described as a special brand of trademarked confusion.
"You Did The Same To Me, Did You Not?" Taka rebutted. Damn him and his logic. Fight fire with fire - time for hypocrisy!
"Yeah, but I'm the headmaster." Monokuma explained, paws flailing. "I have responsibilities to neglect. You're the self-proclaimed discipline committee chairman."
"I... See?"
"Darn right you do." Monokuma huffed, as Junko giggled behind her screen. "Now I'd like to know why you were late, Mr. Ultimate-On-Time-Guy!"
"That's... Not My Talent..." The prefect began, his fiery disposition finally quelled, which was always a treat to see. "I Was Imploring Miss Maizono To Have A Meal. She Hadn't Eaten Anything In Perhaps Three Days, And That Was Only Before The Trial Commenced. I Brought Her Some Scrambled Eggs And Orange Juice Earlier Today. The Reason for My Tardiness Was Her Obstinance, And After A Rather Pointless Exchange Of Words I Decided To Leave The Meal At Her Door. I Apologize For The Delay."
It was an earnest apology. Actually earnest, which was baffling as it was interesting. Taka really was made of sterner stuff, keeping unfailingly polite to their killer game leader and going all the way to look out for his attempted murderer's well being.
"In an odd way, kid, part of me actually looks up to you." Junko muttered into the voice translator. "but the rest of me is looking forward to the day you get dragged down."
"And That Day Will Never Come." The Moral Compass declared unfailingly. Was it a challenge? Oh, she did love challenges.
"I've come to discuss your mental well being, given your recent traumatic encounter of nearly getting smoked like a salmon."
"Steamed, You Mean." He corrected, and the impulsive part of Junko - kept under lock, key, and chains- yearned to reach through the screen and punch him square in the jaw.
"Don't make me come over there, kid. Anyways, how do you feel about sharing school life with your attempted murderer."
His expression sobered slightly - good. "It's An Exercise In My Capacity As The Moral Compass, Truthfully."
There was nothing to doubt in his word. Maybe it was time to fix that. "Don't you ever get just a little bit angry, hearing how she doesn't regret anything. That she'd do it again. That she was okay with the idea of both of you suffering slowly."
He hesitated: That little flicker of doubt was there. Everyone had it, and it was nice to be reminded there were no superhuman - or extracurricular - exceptions.
"She Was Not Herself At That Period. She Was Suffering From Circumstances Beyond Her Control." Taka reminded, staring back balefully.
"Yeah, so? Neither are you, and neither is he. Everyone came out of that just a bit changed." Monokuma declared, somewhat mollified by the knowledge of consequences.
"Indeed. I've Never Had An Attempt On My Life Before. Bro Might Have, Though I Don't Believe It Gets Easier."
"Not what I mean, kid." Junko corrected, gleeful behind the monitor. "You've been breathing harder recently - collar popped open looks weird on you, given you've never actually worn it like that all this time. Mondo's been having a rough time with the same, but he's been looking a bit puffy as of late. My on-call nurse told me it may or may not be a holdover from your steamy sauna time together, and may or may not be acute organ damage. Maybe both of you, or maybe neither. Who knows? Not you."
The prefect took a moment to process the information. Then another. And a few more for good measure until he laid a calming hand on his chest.
"It's pretty bad how shortness of breath gets waaaay worse when you get reminded of it." Monokuma taunted, gleefully sadistic.
"Sayaka Maizono Was Simply Not Herself." Taka insisted. Desperate denial was a good look on him, Junko noted.
"Maybe so - Mako's ganking really did a number on her. You, on the other hand, are completely yourself. Mondo as well, all honest and gang leader-like. And both of you have to deal with everything, y'know? That trauma that goes beyond the memory, that reminds itself of itself with every struggling breath you take."
"Then we will persevere." Taka insisted, curbing his horror at the pervasive future awaiting.
"Voice's getting a bit soft there, buddy boy. You almost sound like you aren't yelling for once."
"Sayaka Made Her Choice. I Made Mine. Mondo Made His. And We Will Persevere." He stated, calmly, defiantly.
"Yes. Your choice to die next, if anything bad happens to anyone else." Monokuma deadpanned, rolling his mechanical eyes. "You want to be a martyr, don't you. Part of you must, to be so willing to die for someone. Like some of my own family, but you actually seek it out like the suicidal daredevil I never knew you were. Consider this: You die, you take your talent intact to the grave. You live a cripple, and you can retire to those old-timey nursing homes to set an example to those young whippersnappers about morality and conviction from a gilded wheelchair or something. Your talent means more to you than your life, and you won't be losing anything that matters no matter what gets taken. Your bro Mondo doesn't have that. He dies, the Crazy Diamonds collapse into obscurity, wipe themselves out in a bar brawl-slash-gang war, or start taking each other on for power. He lives a cripple, and he won't ever ride a bike again - doctor's orders, I promise. He could, if he'd be interested to be some rich guy's hood ornament. Imagine how much that means to him, and how big that meaning swells the moment you turn it into a distant memory. One way or another, he loses his borrowed legacy, all thanks to some blue-haired chick who decided to turn on you two on a whim during the rough equivalent of a panic attack."
"He's Stronger Than That. Bro Will Survive."
"Don't be so confident - everyone can die here. But even if he survives, are you really sure he'll live? His blood family's gone. He might never ride again. His gang could fall apart like a bundle of sticks if he lets his guard down here. And getting even with person who took it away from him gets his bro killed. Did you even consider that?"
"N-No, I Had Not."
"Good! I hope I've helped you come to terms with yourself - it really, really, really helps to unpack everything we aren't saying. I'm glad we could have this discussion."
"-"
"And I'm not a complete monster! At the very least, I'm not unfair about it. The little rule we set in place for your act of unadulterated kindness only applies to other people. You're free to compromise your own values and take them out yourself. Might even get away with it with the little martyr stunt you pulled."
"- We Both Know I'll Never Do That, Headmaster -"
"And disappointingly, I believe you. But you are the discipline committee chairman, for all the power it holds right now... so how 'bout I deputize you? Give you the backing of the school for any and all violators of the big book of rules. Catch them and report to me, and maybe I count it as assisted suicide. Bank error in your favor, almost. That way, your hands stay clean - but the gloves get filthy. Then just take off the rubber and your twisted memories, and maybe live on to become the Prime Minister you always wanted to be."
"-"
"What, no vehement denials this time? My God, you're actually considering it."
"-No... I Refuse Your Deputation."
"No, you didn't. Not entirely. I'm leaving you alone with that thought and this power. Adversity strengthens character, after all, and few things are better than temptation."
"- Is That All? -"
"Yeah. Go get mad at people for running in the halls or whatever it is you think you do."
"-"
"Oh, and Taka... I'm glad we had this talk. I feel like you and I grew a little closer today."
AN: LuckenHaft - To be honest, I felt like a bastard making that call. My off-site beta even chewed me out over it, but the show must hurt. And it was memorable - though oddly enough, the people who seem keen on it are from , while my Ao3 crowd didn't even bat an eye at Chiaki's second execution.
Don't worry: Class of 78 makes a lot of cameos in this story, some of them even plot relevant.