Possibilities
What IF 9: Toy Soldier
She snapped up from the desk, broken into consciousness in an instant. Going for a weapon, she immediately began a ten-point inspection of her surroundings, aiming to gain as much information on her situation as possible. She found herself alone in a classroom, bereft of knives in her skirt or breast. Unconstrained, she rose and began to inspect further, the room utterly alien to her as one who'd never taken lessons in her life. The cameras were strange for reasons she couldn't put a finger to, and the blackboard ruined with graffiti involving a bear of some kind. But otherwise, she was alone, and the room empty. The next logical course of action was to try the door, and it was to her surprise that it came away unlocked, bringing her out into a corridor. Still no signs of life, but she proceeded slowly nonetheless, inspecting every shadow for attackers and peering around every corner before she turned them.
With the stairs barricaded by shutters, she instead took stock of a map she found on a wall, pointing her towards the entrance hall. Apparently she was within Hope's Peak Academy, which was both a source of comfort as much as it was a distress. The academy had summoned her after Fenrir dissolved, hoping to cultivate her prowess in battle. More personally, she had been supposed to reunite with her sister. Yet she had woken alone, unarmed, and Junko was nowhere to be found. Something had happened to the both of them, but the last she could remember, she was coming in to land on the flight Junko had booked for her, reflecting on how long it had been since she been set foot in Japan.
The quiet began to abate, stray voices floating through to her as she made her way to the entrance hall. A quick stake-out found fourteen others, huddled in conversations of varying intensities. The young man with the pompadour was getting quite riled at the disciplinary committee member in white. No sign of Junko amongst them, but intelligence was the first step in war, and so she stepped out, hands risen in surrender.
As it turned out, they shared similar stories. Other Ultimate students, waking up in empty classrooms with no clue as to they got there. She nodded through introductions in her usual, small-worded way, although she had to repeatedly reassure them that she was without weaponry, the idea of a soldier amongst talented students as comforting as watching a wolf striding along a herd of sheep. More frustratingly, while many of them had heard of Junko, and complimented her on having such a famous sister, not one of them had seen her on their travels. Mukuro was about to break off and go searching alone when the intercom crackled into life, and they were directed to the main hall instead.
There, they came face-to-face with the headmaster. A black and white bear, who gave them a simple task. Live a peaceful, imprisoned life, or escape, by killing without being discovered. Naturally, all eyes fell upon her. Not that they wrong to. Junko was out there, and she needed her, and so she would do whatever was necessary to that end. One more body on the pile that was her life was hardly consequential. She said nothing, merely stalking from the hall and locating the room that was assigned to her, leaving their whispers behind her.
That said, the game had been engineered quite well. While her room bore the hallmarks of her position, she found the guns to be plastic replicas and the knives made of rubber, a fact Monokuma teased her over, helpfully pointing out the sewing kit in the bedside table. But while she was confident that she could kill with a sewing needle, it would easier to do the job with her bare hands. Breaking a neck or slamming her palm into the nose of a student would be a practised motion, one she was more than comfortable with. But with comfort came notoriety. Killing with pure skill and strength would be pointed at her, the martial artist or the biker, and she was already assumed to be readying herself to complete the act. Blame, rightful or no, would fall on her shoulders, and the second part of the mission was to complete the kill without being caught.
She spent the night twisted between fitful sleep, quiet contemplation, and worry for Junko.
Morning came, and with it an alarm from the headmaster. She was up long before he barged onto the screen, clearing her mind with push-ups and Krav Maga drills. But it wasn't Monokuma who dragged her from her work, but rather a small knock on the door after she'd finished showering. Opening it up found the Ultimate Lucky Student, Makoto Naegi, stood there smiling. The one who'd taken a punch from Mondo the day before, looking none the worse for it now. Surprisingly tough, for such a small boy.
"Good morning Mukuro. We were just getting together for breakfast; would you like to join us?"
"That isn't a good idea."
"Ah, don't worry, this isn't a murder ploy or anything! It's just that we were planning on doing a proper investigation of the school today, see if we can't find a way out ourselves."
She paused in the doorway for a moment, just taking him in. He didn't seem the lying type, nor the kind that could take up a weapon. If this was an ambush on the part of the other students, they'd chosen their lure well.
"Give me a minute to dry my hair, and I will join you."
"Of course. Take your time."
Breakfast was a rather tense affair, sideways glances catching her non-stop all the time she quietly chewed through a cereal bar in the midst of the Ultimate's noise. With no-one willing to pair up with her for the investigation, Makoto once again offered himself up as the intermediary, laughing off Byakuya's comment about easy victim identification.
As she expected, the cage around them had been excellently constructed. Solid steel plates over the windows, fixed from the inside with industrial style bolts. Irremovable by hand, even for the strongest members of the group. Surveillance in every corner, metal grates over the stairways, high walls beyond the gardens. Without an exit to be seen, they found themselves drifting through the hallways, coming to a close in the gift shop. With no weapons to be seen on the shelves, she merely leant up against the counter, watching him feed coins they'd found about the place into the Monomono Machine.
"Well, maybe it was a bit much to hope we'd find a way out on the first day. Still, we've got time. And I'm sure our friends and families are out looking for us as well."
His back was exposed. It would be a quick and easy job. One snap, then stuff the body into a cupboard and go. No-one saw them enter, and it had been long enough since they started for plausible deniability to set in, claim they separated halfway through for a bathroom break. Instead, she made a half-noise of agreement, watching the machine rattle away as it spat another item into his hands.
Mukuro wasn't a stranger to death. But the difference was in the intent. Those on the other side of the trigger were fellow soldiers, aiming to do the same to her. And while those trapped in here with her could undeniably be classified as enemies as well, betraying the trust of a boy that had been nothing but nice to her felt… corrupt, somehow. She would still perform the act. It would just have to be on someone more deserving, or more distant. Byakuya Togami came to mind.
"Huh, this is a weird one. Looks like a survival kit."
It was a JSDF rations supply, lined with various canned and vacuum-sealed foods. She found herself standing a little straighter, looking over his shoulder to get a better look. He bobbed back up, meeting her eye smiling.
"I might be stereotyping, but do you want this? Not sure it's much good to anyone else."
"I… are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's all yours."
She took it from him gingerly, turning it over, slightly stunned.
"I've never received a present before."
"Oh, that's sad. Your house not big on birthdays?"
He was alongside her at the counter now, leaning beside her. She mulled her answer over for a second. Information for a gift. It seemed a fair exchange.
"I don't have a house. My sister and I grew up on the streets."
"I'm so sorry."
"Why? It's not your fault."
"I just assumed, what with your sister being so famous, that you two probably had a nice upbringing. I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."
"It's fine."
They fell into silence, Mukuro just examining the ration box. Part of her wanted to keep on talking, but nothing came to her for all the time she borrowed picking through the kit. He was a normal boy; and all of her stories involved armed combat in some way. If not for the fact that they were locked in this school, they would have nothing in common at all. A quick glance sideways showed him unusually taut, probably out of fear of her.
"Well of course, sis." Junko's voice whispered in her ear; "You're so dreadfully dull and stupid, no wonder you can't even carry on a conversation like a normal person. Better just kill him and come back to me where you can't do any harm."
The ration kit had run out of places to hide away in, she closed it with a soft click.
"Do you… have a sister?"
"Yeah! I mean, yeah, I do. Her name's Komaru, she's a couple years younger than me. Kind of a pain, but I love her anyway."
They ended up wasting the rest of the afternoon discussing family, Makoto talking twice as much as she did. Somehow, it wasn't that bad.
In the end, she was beaten to the punch. Sayaka Maizono turned up dead in Makoto's room before she could pick a target and set to rescuing Junko from the ring of Monokumas shown in her personal video. Makoto fainted dead away at the sight of the body, Mukuro having to carry him out of the blood-soaked bathroom and watch over him until he awoke in an awful state. But there was no time for grief, as those remaining had to find the responsible party and expose them in a trial. And with that the investigation began, with the students milling around the halls, looking for anything that might have been helpful.
Staying by his side had proven the best option for everyone so far and so she remained there, once again standing outside the bathroom, Makoto looking into the dark, pale-faced. She didn't really know what to do with herself. With Junko and with Fenrir, things were simple. Go there, do that, kill this. But Makoto didn't give orders, he talked to her. And when he wasn't saying anything, she didn't have a clue how she could be of assistance.
"Standing outside won't stop her from being dead. You can either confront that fact or look elsewhere, and go into the trial half-armed."
"Oi, have a heart Kyoko, he's still in shock." Mondo defended from somewhere behind them. But the comment spurred Makoto into life, colour dipping back into his cheeks.
"Okay, I can do this. Mukuro, you don't have to come in."
"It's okay. I'm used to things like this. Tell me how I can help you."
He nodded nervously, and slowly entered through the open door. Sayaka was still slumped against the shower, a kitchen knife fixed in her sternum and her blood splattered all about. They worked over the body, Makoto looking to her for confirmation on Sayaka's wounds. Broken wrist from a blunt object, covered in gold from where she'd been struck, the obvious cause of death with the knife. And more incriminatingly, the numbers behind her. Or rather, the letters.
She knew a smattering of English from her time overseas. And from Sayaka's position, her writing options would have been painfully limited. 11037, or rather, Leon. Makoto's face paled as they put the clue together, the reality of the situation sinking in. Rubbing his back like Junko had demanded when they were little and she was sick didn't do much to bring him back to the real world, but he did look thankful for it.
Pulling Kyoko in helped to confirm their theory, and they set to gathering as much evidence as they could.
Leon's defence was short and simple. First he blamed Makoto, since his room was the scene of the crime. Then Mukuro, for her standoffishness and her talent. That one stuck for a bit, since she had no alibi, having been asleep at the time of the crime. Pointing out that she'd never stoop to using a blunt, glittery sword when her hands would be more efficient did nothing for her defence. But when the subject of the crystal ball and the incinerator was brought up, the tide began to change. The writing on the wall was the writing on the wall for his version of events, and before long he was left spluttering half-insults and weak proclamations.
The execution was swift and brutal, and Mukuro had to hold Makoto back from taking an ill-advised swing at Monokuma and earning himself one as well. He was surprisingly well-defined under that hoodie, but admiration at his figure was the least of their concerns right now. Thankfully, the anger left him with the disappearance of the mastermind, peeling himself away with weak gratitude and shuffling off towards the elevator.
They headed back to their rooms for the night, but she was stopped by Kyoko before she could make for bed.
"You're quite sharp when you want to be."
"Luck, nothing more. If she'd written anything more complicated, I doubt I would have been able to translate."
"Nevertheless, I can only hope we don't have to do this again. You've abandoned your thoughts on killing, haven't you?"
"You thought I might commit a murder as well?"
"I believe that everyone had the potential. But you are the only one who showed the signs of actively planning a crime."
She debated her answer, since the person before her was the worst one to confess such a thing to. Sakura and Mondo were the physical threats, but Kyoko stood a level above that, able to turn opinions with a cool head and stern demeanour. And yet, Mukuro knew that she had nothing to fear from her from this confession. She knew that she couldn't turn her blades on this group anymore. Not knowing the consequences.
"True. I was assessing targets."
"But not Makoto?"
"He's… nice."
For some reason, her cheeks heated a little at that. Kyoko smiled an enigmatic smile.
"Just as well then, since he would have died with the rest of us had you gotten away with it."
"I suppose he would have. Is there anything else you want from me?"
"No, no. Have a pleasant night, Mukuro."
She flipped her hair and strode away, vanishing into her room. Mukuro watched her go, and retreated in kind.
Tomorrow, another day at Hope's Peak would begin. Junko was tough. She would survive until Mukuro found a way out of the mad game she'd been thrust into. It was simply a matter of time.
What IF 9 – Toy Soldier: Alternative
The first trial of the deadly game revolved around a simple kill. A broken neck and a rough disposal, leaving Chihiro's body in the bathroom stall with the door barricaded from the inside, escaping through the ducts and coming out on the other side of the school. In theory, a locked-door murder that couldn't have been solved. In practice, the class had worked out who had alibis and who didn't, and hers crumbled under examination, her tongue going with it when she'd scrambled to come up with a second excuse. She'd never been good under social pressure, and it didn't help that every time she looked up to speak, she caught Makoto's eye, and guilt would surge in.
She hadn't known they would all die if she got away with it. It likely wouldn't have changed things. Junko needed her, the video she'd received showing her beloved sister held hostage at the whims of the mastermind.
The vote was unanimous, and correct. Monokuma was completely beside himself as he announced the results.
"Well then, I've prepared a very special punishment for Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier!"
A knife found his eye, her prediction of the weakness proved correct. Two more kitchen knives were drawn from her person as a horde of the robots surged in, and she cast one last look back before setting off to work.
They battled throughout the school, a single girl constantly moving, dodging, countering, killing amidst a tide of black and white. When her knives broke, she took up Monokuma claws and school desks. When those broke, she used her hands until she could find something better. Her uniform ripped in a dozen places, but her skin was never marked.
In the end, it was down to her and just one last Monokuma, standing opposite one another in the entrance hall. It came at her as fast and deadly as the rest, and she readied herself to deflect the charge. But as it leapt at her with claws extended, a familiar whisper touched her ear, slipping from the bear's mouth.
"I love you Mukuro."
"Jun- "
The half-second of shock at hearing her sister's voice was all that was needed for Monokuma to tear her throat out.