It was 1:15 AM. Mukuro poked her head out of the warehouse just far enough to check the hallway out to the dorms.
Empty.
Just to be safe, she checked the other end of the hallway. As always, the cast iron gate that blocked access to the second floor was down and locked.
A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and over the bridge of her nose, then launched off her face and splashed onto the floor. She hadn't realized how much she was trembling.
Mukuro pulled back into the room, grabbed what she'd come for, and wheeled it outside. She shut the door behind her to make sure there'd be no evidence she'd broken the nighttime rule, but it would all be for nothing if someone else happened to leave their room.
In front of her was a large wheeled whiteboard, the kind a teacher could bring into his or her classroom to have more space to write on. It wasn't too far to her dorm room – as long as everyone else respected the rules, no one would ever know, and the fragile trust she'd built up would remain unshattered…
Unfortunately, the wheels were extremely noisy. They were barely attached to the metal frame that held up the whiteboard, and wobbled every which way as she pushed them, creaking incessantly. If anyone's door was even slightly ajar, they would definitely hear everything.
When she reached the turn that would lead her to the main dorm area, Mukuro cast one last glance back at the warehouse. It was just a precaution to make sure she'd really closed the door, although she was already certain.
The gate was wide open.
The blood rushed out of her face. One of her eyes twitched.
Wh… what?
She blinked, trying to clear her head, trying to reveal this all to be a dream or a hallucination. But it wasn't. The gate was definitely raised into the ceiling, and it had gone up without a hint of noise. The beads of sweat turned into a torrent, and her face was completely drenched.
Mukuro turned back to the main dorm hallway and scanned it with paranoid, disbelieving eyes. Everyone's very closed doors waited for her to run past.
She turned back to the gate, and it was down and locked again.
"Ah!" she screamed, and jumped back. Her fists raised by themselves, ready to defend her against—
Nothing.
There was nothing around except the whiteboard and a light chill from the AC. She stood there, heart pounding, fists raised, and… nothing happened.
Perhaps a minute passed as she examined the gate from far away. She didn't dare turn away from it, but neither did she have the courage to approach the thing.
She swallowed hard, and grabbed the whiteboard. This time, she ran past without regard for the squeaky wheels. She didn't look back to the gate, and she stopped running only when she reached the door marked with her face.
She bounded into the room like she was being chased by a monster, swung the whiteboard inside, and slammed the door shut. The key fumbled in her fingers and fell to the floor.
"Dammit!"
Still sweating, still pale, Mukuro picked it up as fast as she could and twisted the lock shut. She was safe… for now.
(Scene)
A thousand colorful scribbles enveloped the whiteboard's surface.
Monokuma could be watching – surely was watching. Mukuro was prepared for this. Everything she wrote on the board, she turned into a code with either a letter or a number or both. Her own name, for instance, was U14-D. There was no real reason for it, except that it was unguessable to an outside observer. Hope's Peak Academy was 77-2M; again, there was no actual logic involved. Every student, room, and idea in the school had a similar code, and once she decided on a designation, the Ultimate Soldier never forgot it. The idea of cryptography had come so naturally that it never even occurred to her to ask where she'd come up with it.
So, although the whiteboard would have been only so much shallow, meaningless nonsense to anyone else, the patternless codes translated instantly into their proper meanings for her.
STUDENTS: Hina, Byakuya, Celeste, Hifumi, Taka, Kyoko, Leon, Sakura, Sayaka, Toko, Hiro, Mukuro
Under each name was a list of attributes, again in codes. The code LL-14 meant that someone was a spy – currently, only Sakura was so marked. The code D-0 meant that she was certain they couldn't be the spy. Right now, only Mukuro and Sayaka were so labeled.
Sayaka can't be a spy, she thought, tapping a marker idly against her hip. She tried to kill Leon that night, and a spy wouldn't have risked her life so pointlessly if she planned to undermine us throughout the game.
She paused, trying to organized her thoughts. That… made sense.
Besides, it cost her everyone's trust. Terrible move for a spy.
A twinge of guilt stabbed at Mukuro's heart. How terrible was it to even suspect Sayaka? No one in the universe felt more obvious pain and self-loathing than the girl who'd offered herself up to Monokuma as a sacrifice. The idol, whose only wish was to love and be loved by others, couldn't even eat unassisted anymore. It should have been possible, even easy, to accept that Sayaka was genuinely destroyed by what she'd done. Using reason instead of emotion to eliminate her as a suspect just meant that the Ultimate Soldier trusted nothing and no one except herself.
She flashed back to almost killing Sakura and Hiro in the gym.
Hell, I don't even trust Mukuro…
She flopped down backwards onto her bed. It was nearing 3 AM by now, and Mukuro could feel bags forming under her eyes. In her mind, she waged a war over which students were most likely to be Junko's second spy.
A spy would want everyone's trust, right? So, they'd either want to guide everyone toward Junko's goals, or they'd want to blend into the background really well and be seemingly helpful…
Who did that remove as a potential spy?
Byakuya and Toko are too suspicious… No one would ever really trust them if we hadn't learned about the memory wiping stuff, so…
They were the two least likely.
Taka is always in the foreground, always yelling and doing stuff in front of everyone… Besides, as the Ultimate Moral Compass, he's probably immune to being bribed or threatened into spying, anyway.
That meant he was probably also safe… But no one else could be discounted in such a way.
Mukuro groaned and pressed her palms against her eyes. She knew what was coming. She didn't want to consider this reasoning from the opposite direction. She didn't want to think about who most fit the descriptions of "helpful guide" or "student in the background…"
Kyoko, Hina, Hiro, and Hifumi…
As soon as she admitted it to herself, Mukuro became certain it was one of those four.
Let it be Hiro or Hifumi…
Everything would be so much simpler if the second spy was someone she wasn't friends with. She didn't even care about how awful it was to wish someone was evil just because she didn't personally like them.
Mukuro's lips parted, and she let loose a horrible, bellowing yawn. She was seconds away from sleep now, and she still hadn't even begun to unpack the idea that Junko Enoshima, the girl responsible for this entire disaster, could be her sister…
Rule #7: Betraying your sister is not allowed.
Mukuro sprang back up, suddenly awake again. Cold sweat dripped off her forehead and was lost on the bedsheets.
Kyoko thought I was the one who derailed the original game by trying to save everyone… Could I have 'betrayed' Junko by trying to save everyone?
That would explain everything. The presence of that weird, seemingly pointless rule. Why Monokuma kept toying with her. Why her memories were more wiped than everyone else's… Come to think of it, the "second spy" could have been Mukuro herself, if she'd been working with Junko to begin with.
Kyoko thought I escaped being captured and mind-washed the first time, but what if I'd helped Junko willingly, then had second thoughts? … and now there is no second spy, and Junko just especially hates me in particular.
Mukuro leaned herself back onto her bed. Her body was still tired, but her mind was racing. Did she… did she really want that to be true, though?
The implications of that idea were staggering, but two stood out most of all. First, that Sakura was the only spy in this second version of the game. Second, and more importantly, that Mukuro was as responsible for the killing game as Junko. That she'd helped set everything up, maybe helped capture the more dangerous students – the Ultimate Fashionista probably couldn't restrain Sakura for a memory wipe, but with the Ultimate Soldier on her side…
It would mean that Mukuro fought against the despair and hatred of the killing game, but that she was still as much its mother as Junko was. That she was, unambiguously, one of the villains in all of this, and that she was at least partly the reason Makoto and Chihiro were dead.
On the other hand, didn't that possibility make things too convenient? She could just be lying to herself in an attempt to spare Kyoko and Hina her suspicion. The 'sister' in her video might not be Junko at all, but some other girl dressed up as her. Or, hell, what if her sister just liked dressing up as a famous fashion model, and Junko took advantage of that fact? What if Kyoko and Byakuya were totally wrong, and Junko was just an innocent student in all of this? She could have even been in the first version of the killing game that got derailed and been killed, and the actual mastermind forced Toko to carve that message into her leg. And if that was the case, then there really was a second spy somewhere.
And Mukuro didn't dare consider the third possibility, the most dangerous and horrible one of them all.
Maybe you're the girl in that video you saw, the innocent, beautiful blonde on the bed…
Mukuro pressed at her temples and moaned in anger and confusion. Kyoko, Hina, her own sister, herself… she had to suspect them all, and everyone else. The only people she could allow an ounce of trust for were a half-insane stalker who mistook abuse for love, a catatonic singer-turned-attempted-murderer, and the richest, most contemptuous bastard to ever live.
With those thoughts on her mind, the whiteboard in her vision, and her own heartbeats in her ears, Mukuro at last succumbed to sleep.
(Scene)
"May I offer you a suggestion?" Celeste asked pleasantly.
Today was a rare day when Mukuro ate breakfast apart from Hina and Sakura. For some reason, Taka had insisted on eating with the two of them, and so the four-person table was too full – once Sayaka was accounted for, of course. The end result was that Mukuro, for the first time ever, ate across from Celeste.
The gothic girl had her breakfast, tea and crumpets, brought to her on a silver platter by the ever-helpful Hifumi. He hadn't offered to fetch anything for Mukuro, but that was fine. Her own plate was stuffed with mostly-edible waffles of her own creation.
"What is it?" she asked, very wary of Celeste's good mood and cheerful demeanor.
The Ultimate Gambler blinked, then looked to either side for anyone listening. Everyone else in the cafeteria was engaged in a conversation of their own, except Hifumi, who was busy dishing something up for himself in the kitchen.
Once she confirmed that no other student could overhear them, Celeste even checked over her shoulder. It was doubly meaningless, since she was seated in a corner that faced the door.
Celeste traced a finger across one of her pigtails, then leaned in conspiratorially. Mukuro swallowed a chewy piece of waffle and panicked, then leaned over the table to hear.
Does she have something secret to say about Junko?
Celestia Ludenberg whispered just two words:
"Never adapt."
Mukuro scrunched up her face in confusion, then looked up. Celeste was already back to her normal graceful demeanor, daintily plucking a crumpet up from her platter and tossing it into her lips.
Hifumi arrived again. His eyes darted to Mukuro for a second, and he seemed hesitant. Then, he pulled out a chair to join them. Before he could actually sit down, Celeste grabbed a fork and pushed its prongs into his stomach, all without a word. Dejected, he left the chair where it was and worked his way to another empty table nearby. Celeste then dropped the fork on the chair's seat, regarding it with the same expression she might have used for animal dung.
"What do you mean, 'never adapt?'" Mukuro asked.
"Never get comfortable!" Celeste smiled, but there was no warmth in her eyes. "Never feel like this is a place you belong; never treat the others like reliable friends."
"But they are my friends."
Celeste leaned across the table, eyes wide. Mukuro squirmed under her gaze, and felt like someone was staring into her soul.
"They're as much your friends as they can be," she replied. "But… if one of them had the chance to escape alone, do you think they wouldn't take it?"
Mukuro frowned.
"Kyoko, Hina, Sakura, and Taka wouldn't abandon us."
"My, my, such faith!"
"Makoto wouldn't have, either."
Celeste seemed about to reply, then shrugged and returned to her food.
"He wouldn't have," she conceded. "But he's gone, now."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Celeste raised a pale hand to her lips, then giggled.
"Because when someone betrays you, and it will be you they betray, it will put everyone else in danger, unless you're prepared for it."
She said the words so casually that Mukuro almost couldn't believe what she'd heard.
"There's no way anyone would betray anyone else, not after…" She looked up to the camera. "Uh, not after last night."
"There's a limited amount of luck in the world," Celeste replied, and raised some of her tea to her lips. "Makoto had an unfair share. I, too, have an unfair share. That means some people are born equally unlucky. And you, Mukuro… are one of them." She swished some of her tea in her cup, forming a small whirlpool within the green liquid. "Oh yes, something's coming, though I don't know what."
She looked up, revealing a predatory gleam in her eyes. Everything about her face changed, and for the briefest moment, she looked nothing like herself. Someone else was behind that pale skin, someone calculating and deceptive and terrifying.
Then she was back to normal. Mukuro's blood started flowing again, but she felt cold and helpless.
"I'm the scion of French and German nobility," Celeste boasted, then pressed a hand over her heart. "The blood of Europe's greatest minds flows through my veins. I can just… tell."
Mukuro bit her lip, uncertain of whether or not to say that Celeste was obviously Japanese.
"My advice to you is simply this," the Ultimate Gambler finished. "Always be suspicious and on-edge."
Mukuro scowled horribly, then picked up her plate and glass. She finished off the rest of her waffle as she walked back to the kitchen, then tossed her dishes into the sink.
I shouldn't have been so shaken up by that, she pouted.
There was nothing to be done about it. Now that she was alone, she let herself stretch for a moment, work out the kink in her neck, and—
She suddenly realized her track jacket was very wrinkly.
It's the same one from yesterday.
She'd put it on without thinking! That was dumb. She reached down to press out some folds, then felt something hard by her stomach. She put a hand inside and pulled out—
That video game system! The Funplane, wasn't it? She'd forgotten all about this silly thing.
Her fingers moved over the buttons and readied themselves to play something. Mukuro wasn't even thinking when she flipped on the switch. The screen flashed to life, and a futuristic red logo coalesced over a white background. After a second, the logo faded, and a setup screen filled with squares took its place. A black cursor automatically phased over the upper-left square, apparently the name of the cartridge that came with the system: Killfield 4.
The suddenness of what just happened struck Mukuro. Her movements had just been so natural and unthinking, as if her body just expected her to start playing this Killfield.
She puffed out her cheek. Maybe she did like video games? She'd barely explored her own likes and dislikes these past few days. It was possible, maybe even likely, that the Mukuro of old had many hobbies waiting to be rediscovered.
But who in the school would know about video games, of all things? Makoto had mentioned liking them, but Monokuma killed him, and Chihiro was the Ultimate Programmer, but she was dead, too.
The two best options to ask for advice, gone…
Her heart sank a little at the thought of Makoto, but Mukuro shook her head. There was no use dwelling on that right now. She peeked out of the kitchen and started counting her fellow students for who was likely to know about video games.
Hina, Sakura, Sayaka, definitely not… Taka probably thinks they're a waste of time, Hiro's too dumb, Celeste, no way, Kyoko, I doubt it, Byakuya wouldn't give me the time of day even if he did, Toko probably thinks they're beneath literature, Leon, I don't know, Hifumi—
Oh, yes, of course. Hifumi was the closest thing in the world to an Ultimate Nerd. Except for the Ultimate Gamer, if that was even a real thing (unlikely!), he had to be the foremost authority on the subject.
Other students were starting to file out of the cafeteria to go about their business. When it was just Hifumi, Hina, Sayaka, and Leon left, Mukuro crept out of the kitchen and toward the lonesome Ultimate Fanfic Creator.
Hifumi was also one of the people I thought might be the second spy… Talking to him would give me more information about him!
Mukuro was momentarily proud of her brilliant little idea, then slowed her pace. Being suspicious of her fellow Killing Game participants was the exact thing Celeste had just advised her to do, the exact thing that she herself had argued against.
… but was it really hypocritical if she was genuinely going over to him to talk about a (potential) mutual interest?
No, she decided, mostly out of a desire not to admit Celeste's point, and walked up behind Hifumi.
"Hi, Hifumi."
"Yeeeeee!"
Hifumi yelped in surprise and bumped against his overfilled plate. A stack of pancakes wobbled, then collapsed onto his half-eaten waffles and eggs. His two breakfast glasses of diet soda also splashed up and down, but their contents luckily only landed in each other.
"Ms. Ikusaba!" he exclaimed, voice quavering, and he twisted around to face her. His rolls of fat flowed over the chair's arm and dangled over the floor. "Wh—what are you doing here?"
Mukuro cocked her head. She thought it was pretty obvious, since she was holding the game system right in front of him.
Like with some of the other students, Mukuro had never really interacted with Hifumi before. She hadn't realized how difficult it was to read some of his expressions. His circular glasses completely covered his eyes, and his sagging cheeks and multiple chins meant that half his face was in constant motion whenever he did more than breathe. Even worse, he was so starved for physical activity that he was covered in a perpetual sheen of sweat.
But… she was pretty sure he was sweating more than usual right now, and his chins were jiggling from something other than just normal movement.
He's scared of me, she realized all at once.
She couldn't see his eyes past his opaque lenses, but she was pretty sure he was watching her every movement like a hawk. But why? He hadn't been like this before the trial.
The time in the gym?
Had Hifumi really been this nervous around her since then? If so, Mukuro had completely missed any indication of that. Her immediate reaction was to be annoyed, or perhaps unhappy, but…
If I'm that blind to other people's emotions, then it's at least sort of my own fault…
Mukuro smiled as warmly as she could, and was secretly relieved it was Hifumi she tried to conceal her emotions from, and not Kyoko or Byakuya.
"Hifumi!" she chirped, pretending not to notice his fear. She flipped the Funplane around so he could see the screen. "I wanted your advice on video game stuff."
"O—oh," he said. He wiped his brow with one of his sleeves, smearing an inexplicably greasy stain across its gray fabric. After a moment, he managed to comport himself, and took on a slightly more authoritative tone, though no more confident. "Yes, well, I am the resident expert on all things 2D. Er… if anything were to happen to me, there'd be no one else left who could… competently deal with such matters."
Mukuro was slightly upset by the way he'd phrased that, but decided to let it drop.
"Yeah," she said. "I found this video game system, but I don't know anything about the game, so I came to you."
"Oho!" Hifumi pushed up his glasses, then smiled. Light gleamed off the right lens, and all of his confidence returned. "Well then, you've come to the right place, Ms. Ikusaba! To properly write fanfiction, you must first consume the anime, manga, or game in question, so chances are I can indeed assist you."
"What exactly… is fanfiction?" Mukuro asked.
In truth, she already had some idea, but—
"Super direct question, huh?" Hifumi crossed his arms. "I suppose that's fitting, for you. Very well! Fanfiction is a holy crusade! A crusade to enlighten the unenlightened masses by summoning more of a fictional world into existence perhaps long after its creator has 'moved on!' An eternal battle waged against the forces of boredom and neglect! A war where soldiers march to cons and sell their wares, be it fiction, comics, or artwork, where dissemination of product, alternate paths for a canon property, and memory of decades-old anime means a victory!" He stood up, shaking the table, and slammed a fist into his open palm. "That is what fanfiction is!"
Is he… is he phrasing everything in battle terms because I'm the Ultimate Soldier?
Mukuro wasn't sure how offended to be, but she was pretty sure the answer was at least "mildly."
"So… Do you know about this video game?" she asked, moderately offended.
She handed the Funplane over to Hifumi, who took one look at it and shook his head.
"Oh," he said, clearly disappointed. "Yes, this is Killfield 4. Actually, it's the sixth or eleventh Killfield, depending on how you count. Killfield 0 is considered a mainline title, as is Killfield: Drop Zone, but Killcraft is really more of a base-building-focused spinoff, while—"
As Hifumi went on, layers and layers of jargon began to consume his speech. About a minute passed, and there was probably a lot of information offered, but Mukuro understood maybe one out of every three words. It must have shown on her face how all of these technical details were lost on her, but Hifumi was definitely oblivious. Occasionally, he gestured to the Funplane to make some kind of point, but only God knew what it was.
"—whether an updated remaster with day one DLC that refocuses half the game's stealth options to turn it into a half-FPS, half-stealth really constitutes a 'mainline' title or not is up for debate, but the original version still has some popularity among diehard fans."
He handed the Funplane back to Mukuro, now with some extra grease on the buttons, and lifted a glass of soda up to his mouth. It took her a few seconds to realize that he was done talking. After a moment, she blinked, then scratched the back of her head.
"So… you're a fan?" she asked.
"Of course not!" Hifumi pressed his hands to his hips and grew red. "It's only really popular in the United States, and even there, it's maybe the fourth most popular FPS. Complete trash series, it's really just a knockoff of Medal of Death."
"Oh… So, you've never written any fanfics of it, then?"
This clearly offended Hifumi, who crossed his arms and roared to the ceiling.
"Of course I have! Who do you think you're talking to? But I've only written six fanfics and drawn a doujin. Of course, if you count crossovers, then it's eighteen. Personally, I'm more of an RPG or visual novel fan, but the Funplane got a few ports of these kinds of games."
Hifumi's tone when he said "these kinds" made it clear what he thought of Killfield 4.
"Hm." Mukuro hummed.
She leaned up against Hifumi's table, then pressed to open the game. A short cutscene of a soldier tromping through mud started to play, which stopped once she pressed the A button, and a new screen of a smoking field littered with bodies appeared.
CAMPAIGN
ARCADE MODE
VERSUS
CONTINUE
OPTIONS
Automatically, she clicked Arcade Mode. One second later, she was at the edge of a field, half covered in dark grass and half in blood. Fires raged faraway, and black smoke covered the sky. A chorus of dying men screamed over the din of explosions, machine guns, and mortar shells. In the back of Mukuro's mind, she could only think of one thing:
That's not how tank treads sound when they roll over bloody mud pits.
The game was in first-person, so she could only see her character's arm, but he was holding some kind of fictionalized version of an AK-47. His finger was already on the trigger even when he wasn't aiming at anything.
Poor trigger discipline.
She pressed forward. Bullets whizzed by, yellow beams unrealistically trailing behind. Who would use tracer bullets in this situation? Ridiculous.
An enemy soldier appeared behind a concrete barricade—
She killed him in a second.
Ten more soldiers appeared, and a flashing orange tutorial marker suggested she take refuge behind the barricade she'd just freed up. But, instead…
Blam
Blam
Blam
Mukuro managed ten headshots without even thinking. One bullet killed four men in a row, and the other two killed three each. It wasn't even hard. Deftly, she reloaded and continued, trampling their bodies underfoot.
It was all just a simulation, but Mukuro's senses were on fire. She bit down on her lip, killing another fifteen men with six bullets, and jumped over a fence. A rundown gas station filled with enemy soldiers waited in the distance. A sniper shot rang out, and Mukuro ducked behind a tree.
Twenty minutes passed this way before, without warning, the Funplane shut off.
"Ah!"
Mukuro's sweaty, excited hand pressed the power button several times. The only result was a yellow power symbol flashing on the screen. A red X laid over it.
"Dammit," she mumbled. It was her own for not charging it first, she supposed.
She stashed the game system back into her jacket, then turned around. She'd completely forgotten about Hifumi.
He stood there behind, biting his fat fingers, watching her intently.
"Mm, Ms. Ikusaba…" he moaned. "You are… quite good at that."
"I suppose," She shrugged, then smiled at him. "I feel like I've played one of these before."
She furrowed her brow. All of a sudden, she realized that Hifumi was shaking.
He's scared of me again… because I was good at a video game?
"Hifumi…"
She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he pulled back.
"Err, uh… Well, Ms. Ikusaba, I hope you appreciate this foray into the realm of 2D!"
He hurriedly picked up what remained of his meal, then ran off to the kitchen without looking back.
Mukuro's lips parted slightly. Confused, she pulled a hand over her chest, shocked at how hot her skin was. Her heart was beating so fast, and she didn't understand why.
It really hurt when someone was scared of her.
(Scene)
Mukuro swiped her hand up, caught Sakura by the wrist, and tossed her to the side. A second later, she swept her foot in a horizontal arc, but the larger girl was prepared, and twisted in the air to dodge.
Mukuro skipped backward, easily avoiding the next six blows that came her way, and backflipped to land on the gym's stage. Sakura didn't bother with the flourish, and just leapt up and landed beside her.
A punch, a parry, a kick, a dodge… A minute passed, neither girl able to actually land a strike. Sweat poured off both their bodies, but never blood.
She's not holding back this time, Mukuro thought.
The Ultimate Soldier was, though. She let her body take control, as it had the first time, and watched herself fight the Ultimate Martial Artist… but this time, she kept herself more aware, more prepared. If her instinct was ever to jump back over to the bleachers…
"Enough!" Sakura growled.
Mukuro grunted in surprise. It took her a second to actually force her body to stop moving. Even after she froze in place, her fists were still reflexively raised.
"We're not done, are we?" she asked.
"Mukuro," Sakura said, wiping the sweat off her brow. "You are not taking this training seriously. I can sense your restraint."
Mukuro finally let her arms fall to her sides.
"Well, yeah… After that other time—"
"No, you worry about something else."
Mukuro looked down, annoyed at how easily she'd been read. After a moment, she eased herself to sit at the edge of the stage, dangling her legs over the gym floor. She scanned the room to make sure no one else was around, then nodded.
"I think Hifumi is still scared of me. Maybe that just got me a little upset. It's not a big deal, but I guess it was still on my mind while we were fighting."
"Hifumi?" Sakura crossed her arms. "I do not doubt his expertise in his field, but he knows nothing of combat or of killing intent."
"I know!" Mukuro groaned. "I know, but I don't like people being scared of me, you know?"
Sakura was silent for a while. At length, she jumped back down to the floor. So tall was she that, even sitting on the stage, Mukuro was still only at eye level with her.
"I understand," the white-haired colossus rumbled, a little more gently than she ever had before. "I am… also familiar with the burden of others' such judgments."
Mukuro burned with shame.
"I must've made you feel the same way, that first day, huh?" she asked in a low voice. "When I first saw you, I jumped back in fear." Sakura didn't respond, so Mukuro continued. "Jeez, I didn't even think of that. Now, all I see when I look at you is a friend who's smarter than I am."
Sakura shook her head.
"Smarter? No. But surer of herself? Perhaps." She closed one eye, then examined Mukuro with the other. "It is an interesting thing, to be robbed of your memories, of your very self. I do not know if I would have handled it as deftly as you have. I suspect no one else would have."
Mukuro shook her head.
"Deftly, huh?" She looked up to the ceiling. "All I ever feel is unsure of myself."
"That is only a sign of your growth, or capacity for growth." Sakura said. "Most people go their entire lives without consciously attempting to improve themselves. Your introspection is a good thing, Mukuro."
Mukuro burned red again, uncertain of how to respond to this praise. Just being with Sakura was almost enough to siphon some of her strength and noble bearing. It was easy to see why Hina loved her so much; Sakura was an island of reliability in the raging sea that was the Killing Game. Even her admitting to being a spy hadn't changed that at all.
After a while, Mukuro closed her eyes.
"Sakura," she started. "Do you have any real goal with your training, or is the art of fighting the goal by itself?"
The question took the martial artist by surprise.
"Why do you ask?"
"I was just thinking, what made me become the Ultimate Soldier? My profile kind of implied that as a kid, I just liked fighting and weapons. It sounds like I had no reason at all beyond that… And I'm pretty sure that's correct."
Sakura held a palm up to the ceiling, then squeezed it into a fist.
"I was born to inherit my family dojo and maintain its legacy. That has always been in my thoughts. For that purpose, my life was predestined for the path of the Ultimate Martial Artist… although, I do have another goal…"
Sakura trailed off, suddenly a touch less stoic than she normally was. She studied Mukuro for a moment before continuing.
"Well," she said at length. "That is a tale for another time."
"Sure," Mukuro agreed, and jumped off the stage. She pulled out her e-Handbook and pressed the screen. "5:40 PM. Almost time for dinner."
"Good. I'll meet you at the cafeteria." Sakura said.
They started for the door. Mukuro cocked her head.
"Where're you going?"
"To the warehouse. I go to pick up some protein powder every morning before breakfast, every evening before dinner, and every night before I sleep."
"Pretty regular." Mukuro observed.
"It is necessary. Anyone can take care of their body for a day, but to truly hone it, constant work is necessary, no matter the circumstance or complaints."
"Complaints?" Mukuro asked. "Did someone complain about your diet?"
"Kyoko," A smile tugged at the end of Sakura's lips. "She called me 'unbelievably careless' to have such a regular schedule."
"Huh." Mukuro pursed her lips. "Celeste said something similar to me."
Sakura grunted, clearly discontented at this news.
"Let us hope that is the only thing Kyoko shares with Celeste."
Mukuro snickered at the joke, and even Sakura allowed herself a wider smile.
(Scene)
Dinner passed without incident. The routine of the school was almost second nature now. Hina chattered excitedly about swimming in the pool, somehow still enthusiastic about the "new" part of the school even days after it opened up. Sakura was stoic, consuming her dinner and protein drink almost without comment. And Sayaka was still her shattered, despairing self, who sometimes followed Mukuro with her eyes.
The black-haired girl frowned and poked at a salad someone had made, slowly and quietly making her way through the greens. The conversation at the table went on without her. Her mind was solely on one thing:
Who can I trust?
The boys were the first to leave the cafeteria. As Kyoko predicted, Byakuya tricked Hiro into suggesting they go to the bathhouse. Mukuro watched them from afar, chewing on a tasteless piece of lettuce.
If Junko didn't already know what we're doing, the idea that Byakuya would ever agree to spend time with the others would be pretty suspicious.
She wondered what exactly they would talk about. The girls had had both Toko and Kyoko to listen to; the boys would be stuck with just Byakuya's spin on things.
Mukuro was suddenly overcome by a gigantic yawn. She stretched her arms above her head without thinking, and looked over to the clock on the wall.
7:15 PM…
Whether it was from the exertion of fighting Sakura, her lack of sleep the previous night, or just all of the thinking she'd been doing all day, Mukuro was a little tired.
"I think I'm gonna head to bed early," she said.
"You sure?" Hina asked, a little alarmed.
"Yeah. I'm just beat. See ya guys tomorrow."
She disposed of her dishes in the kitchen, then made her way out of the cafeteria. She was the first girl to get tired, and she noticed Celeste's eyes linger on her for a few moments.
"Goodnight, Mukuro." said the gothic girl, very pleasantly.
Mukuro waved back to her a little awkwardly, then left into the brightly-lit hallways. It occurred to her that in all of her memories, Mukuro had never actually seen a real window.
Who knows? she thought ruefully. Could be I've never seen a window in my entire life.
Mukuro's stomach growled. That little salad hadn't really satisfied her, but she didn't want to go back and see everyone again.
I could pull a Hina… Grab some donuts from the warehouse…
As soon as she had the idea, Mukuro knew she would make it a reality. She spun on her heels, made for the warehouse hallway, and froze.
The gate to the second floor of the dorms didn't look quite right. She eyed it intently, studying it as much as she could from the distance of fifty feet or so. There was definitely something wrong with it, but she wasn't quite sure what.
It reminded her very much like the other times the gates had been open, only to close as soon as she looked away. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that the gate would be back to normal if she took her eyes off it.
Quietly, she took a test step toward the iron bars.
Nothing happened.
She pressed a hand against the wall, tracing her finger along the plaster, and took another few steps, waiting for the gate to do… something.
Nothing happened.
Mukuro steeled herself and took off running straight down the hallway. She had never actually tried to run at full speed before, and found, to her mild surprise and panic, that she was much faster than she expected. The iron bars grew larger faster than she meant them to, and she feared she might barrel into them and hurt herself.
Just before she reached the gate, Mukuro dropped to the floor and slid the last ten or so feet, ready for anything.
Nothing happened.
She lay on her back on the floor, feet pressed against the bars. She kicked one of them, and a metal clunk clamored in the hallway.
Loose.
Mukuro hefted herself into a sitting position and grabbed the bars with her fingers. She shook as hard as she could. The bars were definitely loose this time.
The gate's down, but not locked properly.
Her head was spinning. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Someone opened the gate and went upstairs, but didn't lock it after closing it! But who?
The boys are all together right now, and the girls are all in the cafeteria…
That meant one of two things. Either someone went up there earlier, came down, and forgot to lock the gate behind them… or someone was up there right now, and that person was Junko Enoshima.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Either thing was almost impossible to believe. The idea that the spy would just forget to lock the gate was unlikely, but the idea that the mastermind would forget was outright ridiculous.
With all her strength, Mukuro stood up and lifted the bars. They slid up into the ceiling easily. The stairs were wide open.
Do I get the others…
It wasn't an easy choice. If one of the girls was the second spy, alerting them all to this discovery could have major negative consequences. This chance could be lost forever! On the other hand, if Junko wasn't up there, she might be watching on the cameras, and going up alone would be risky and stupid.
Mukuro jumped a few times on her heels, then punched the air.
I'm always hesitating. She licked her lips. Right now, I want to be risky and stupid.
She stepped forward, lowered the gate behind her, and barreled up the stairs without a second thought.
She gasped when she saw what was waiting for her. For a long time, she simply looked forward in disbelief and confusion.
A hallway stretched out in front of her, very much like the one downstairs, except in one important way: it was completely destroyed. Walls and ceilings had collapsed, great scars ran across the floor, and rubble was everywhere. Rusty or damaged rebar stuck out of holes all across the hallway, sometimes hanging so low that she would have to duck to get around it. Boulder-sized pieces of the ceiling had fallen blocked half of the floor. Dust and bits of plaster covered everything, and just stepping into this mess had kicked some up into the air, sending Mukuro into an awful sneezing fit.
When she opened her eyes again, she half-expected to wake up in bed.
The lights were very dim, partly because some of the bulbs were old and partly because other light fixtures were just broken. The shadows ran very long, and Mukuro couldn't quite see to the end of the hallway, even though it was straight and narrow.
It looks like a warzone.
Without thinking, she reached a hand out to the nearest wall and traced a finger along a thin marking.
Knife, she thought. No blood, so he missed.
Judging by the dust, whatever happened here had happened more than a year ago, perhaps even longer than that. Mukuro kicked one of the fallen chunks of ceiling, and it didn't move an inch. It must have weighed a thousand pounds or more, and she just now realized the floor tiles around it were cracked and destroyed where it had smashed.
A chill ran down her spine, and not just because of the eerie location. The air conditioning and heating that kept the rest of the school nice and temperate was absent here. Mukuro rolled down her track jacket's sleeves and slipped her hands into her pockets. Even then, she still lifted her shoulders and pressed her chin to her chest.
What the hell happened here?
Unconsciously, she started down the hallway. Her feet knew to step around the fallen bits of rubble. She looked for the nearest camera or monitor, hoping there was a way to avoid Junko's eyes and ears, and realized, to her shock, that there were none around.
If this place hasn't been touched in a year, and there are no cameras… She licked her lips. Then the cameras and monitors were installed after Junko wiped our memories, and she never intended for us to be up here!
Mukuro moved forward slowly, until the darkness so enveloped her that she could see only ten or so feet ahead of her. She could no longer walk properly through the rubble; instead, she had to push her feet along the floor, knocking the bits of ceiling and plaster out of the way to avoid stepping on them.
Just as she was about to turn back, she saw something gleaming in the distance. It was a long, vertical rectangle of yellow light, just barely visible through the blackness of the broken floor.
A door!
All thoughts of returning to the warehouse for a flashlight exited her mind. Suddenly, Mukuro was possessed by the absolute need to open that door. She pressed on through the rubble, kicking more dust into the air and sneezing a hundred more times. Tears filled her eyes and turned the yellow light into a watery haze, but it didn't matter.
Finally, she reached the wall. It was too dark to see any knobs, so she pressed her hands against its surface and searched. Her right palm made contact with a round piece of metal, and she twisted it and pushed.
Light exploded out of the room and blinded her.
"Argh!"
Mukuro covered her eyes with the crook of her elbow, grimacing and cursing herself for not thinking of something so obvious. She could feel her retinas bursting into flame.
Stupid, stupid!
After perhaps half a minute, she dared to move her arm just slightly, keeping her forearm an inch away to use as a shield. Light flooded into her eyes, but it wasn't as bad as before. By degrees, she lowered her arm, until at last she was staring right through the door.
It was an office. The walls and floor were made of varnished wood. Carefully-laid couches and coffee tables were arranged in a half-square in the center of the room, a black shelf full of obvious alcohol behind them. Another shelf held row after row of thickly-bound books with a lengthy titles and important-looking spines. A tall plastic potted plant raised in the corner of the room, and a professional-looking desk was pushed against the wall.
As horrible as Hope's Peak Academy was, it was still definitely a school. The classrooms, the gym, the dorms… They all had that sense of adolescence and slight childishness to them, just twisted by the evil and cruelty of Monokuma. This room felt completely different, like something out of an office building for a banker or a lawyer. There was zero room for doubt: this was a place only adults were ever meant to see.
Unlike the rest of the floor, the temperature and lighting here still worked fine. Mukuro would have felt completely at ease but for how starkly this place clashed against everything else in the school, against every other place she had memories of. She entered the room and shivered from unease rather than cold.
As soon as she shut the door behind her, her foot made contact with something solid on the wooden floor. Mukuro looked down and found a brown leather notebook, the kind a student might jot notes down in. In a place that was otherwise well-organized and professional, this piece of litter was horribly out of place.
She kneeled down and took it into her hands. Out of simple curiosity, she flipped through its mostly blank pages until she came to a few long paragraphs written out in the clean, meticulous handwriting of a girl.
There's a plan to turn Hope's Peak into a shelter, and isolate the students here in a communal life.
Mukuro's heart raced. What had she just stumbled onto?
I decided to talk to the one who came up with the plan directly. It just so happens to be the headmaster – and my father. He was willing to give me some more details regarding the plan. Here's what he said… "The point is to keep our student prodigies safe, to keep them as our hope for the future. Only their genius can overcome disaster, and only their hope can overcome despair. For the future of our country, our world, it's not an exaggeration to call this our final hope. We must isolate our superior youth from the corrupted world, to serve as the foundation for a new era. This is the only hope we have. I hope that you'll be willing to go along with this plan." So that's what my father had to say to me. As usual, he made a selfish decision without consulting anyone else. I can't imagine a worse father.
Question marks spun through the Ultimate Soldier's head. Someone here was the child of the headmaster? She flipped through more pages, hoping to find something else concrete, but there were just pages and pages of blank paper.
Just before she gave up, Mukuro found a disorganized scrawl on the last two pages of the pocketbook. It was the same handwriting, but far messier. There were just two sentences written:
Despair walks among us. And so, we survive… There's a second "despair."
"A second despair?" she said aloud, hoping it would somehow lend meaning to the cryptic phrase. Of course, it didn't help.
She looked up from the book, still horribly confused, and toward the computer on the desk. Mukuro's mind flashed back to the one in the library, and her heart sank at the idea of a second broken machine.
But when she tapped a key at random, the screen came to life. She yelped in shock and delight. She slipped the notebook into her pocket and fell into the rolling chair by the desk, heart racing at the promise of secret information.
She pulled up the desktop, a simple black background emblazoned with the logo of Hope's Peak, and searched. There was no internet connection, and therefore no way to call for help, but three files did stand out to her:
Headmaster ID
Ultimate Despair – Research
Door Code
Without thinking, she double-clicked Headmaster ID. As promised, it loaded a PDF image with a photo of the headmaster. A man in his late thirties stared impassively back at the camera. He was dressed in the same black business suit you could find anywhere in Japan, and he had short, dark hair with a clean, professional cut. He might very well have been the most unremarkable-looking man in the world. Mukuro's eyes slid off of him almost as soon as she saw him.
To the side, lines of data listed all of his personal details. His height, his weight, the subjects he was capable of teaching (Composition and History), and, finally, his name.
Jin Kirigiri
Mukuro's eyebrows shot off of her face.
Kirigiri's an unusual last name, she thought. He must be Kyoko's father.
She cocked her head and looked into Headmaster Kirigiri's eyes, searching him for a resemblance to the lavender-haired girl she knew. But there was nothing. He could have been a stranger.
How many times have I seen your face? she wondered. How many times did we see you in the halls, knowing that you were Kyoko's dad?
Even accounting for her amnesia, Kyoko seemed like a very guarded person. It must have irked her to be the daughter of someone so important.
Mukuro sighed and clicked out of the PDF. Next, she clicked the mysteriously titled Ultimate Despair – Research file. This opened up a long document, some hundred pages of text and photographs. It was way too much to read in one sitting, but there was helpfully a synopsis at the top.
Since the Tragedy, I've dedicated as much of my time and resources as possible to researching the Ultimate Despair.
"Ultimate Despair…" Mukuro mouthed.
That's right! She'd heard that name before, or more specifically, remembered it. It was during that flashback to torturing that Ultimate Housekeeper woman, Chisa. Mukuro cringed back at the thought, but she couldn't afford to avoid it. She knew she'd been trying to turn Chisa into an Ultimate Despair…
"An" Ultimate Despair… as in, more than one?
That sort of implied that Mukuro herself was an Ultimate Despair, too. She grimaced at how easily that title slipped onto her, but forced herself to keep reading.
First of all, I'm certain the Ultimate Despair(s) account for more than one person. They may be just two, or a group. Crucial to understand is their motivation – or rather, lack thereof. They act simply for the sake of despair itself. Reasoning with them is an impossibility, because they don't actually want anything except to spread chaos and to ruin the world as much as they can. I believe they might also even harm themselves and their own families, physically and emotionally, in an attempt to feel further despair.
I had my doubts of this at first, but further investigation leaves no room for doubt. The Ultimate Despairs are responsible for the Tragedy, the worst, most despair-inducing incident in the history of mankind, their fallout, and the shutdown of Hope's Peak. The Student Council killing game was orchestrated by one of their number, and I am absolutely confident that that person exists in the school. I've interviewed the faculty too thoroughly for there to be any chance of error here; they're all clean. Useless, in many cases, but none of them could be an Ultimate Despair.
This leaves only the possibility that one or more of the students we cordoned off in the building are responsible. This fits the timeline, as the Student Council massacre happened shortly after the 78th Class was accepted. At least one student is an Ultimate Despair, and perhaps more. However, I have no idea who it could be. All of my efforts right now are spent on trying to uncover their identity, but I lack any talent for detective work, and I cannot entrust this task to a student without first confirming that they aren't part of the group. I only pray that my daughter isn't one of them.
For now, the class must be allowed to believe they are sequestered purely for their own safety. The Ultimate Despairs are the most dangerous, terrible threat to the world.
Mukuro finished the synopsis. Her face was white.
I'm the Ultimate Despair here, she knew with certainty. I'm the one who killed all those people.
Her head spun, and she sank into the chair. She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, trying and failing to block out the world from her mind. Her hands clawed up to her shoulders and hugged her body, but it offered no comfort. Her throat was instantly hoarse, and she heaved loudly in awful, pathetic sobs. Spittle leapt out of her lips and splashed against her breasts.
Despair, despair, despair…
She'd never feel another emotion again. She would never deserve to feel another emotion again, and that just made her feel even worse. And that despair, that very thing she felt now, she'd used in the past to summon up something called "the Tragedy," to massacre the Student Council, and to lobotomize a poor, innocent woman. The very feeling she was giving into was itself a weapon she'd used to kill children. How dare she let herself feel that way, how dare she let it seize control of her like this? But that realization itself just plunged her into even further despair, an infinite hole of darkness from which there was no escape.
She screamed as loudly as she could. She was so skilled and strong and effortlessly powerful, and yet so weak before an emotion everyone else in the world could live with.
After a while, Mukuro's voice and bawling gave way, and degenerated into just a feeble, sniveling whimper. At some point, she'd fallen onto the floor and dug herself underneath the desk. She huddled in the fetal position, breathing in short gasps. Eventually, her body grew still. She vaguely felt dried drool around her lips.
I don't even remember hurting those people, she despaired. I can't even properly feel guilt over it.
She shut her eyes so hard that it hurt. The faceless ghosts of those she'd hurt danced before her.
After what might have been an hour, Mukuro's body was too drained to even feel despair. She would carry this turmoil with her, but as she grew calmer, one spark of hope shone in the darkness around her. There was one modicum, one tiny speck that might undo, or at least mitigate, her crimes.
Please, let Kyoko have been right, she prayed. Let me have tried to stop Junko, and had second thoughts about it all, and that's why I lost my memories…
Was it a blessing to have lost her memories like that? To have been reset to a time before she was an Ultimate Despair?
I can't ever regain those memories. I can't ever let myself regain them…
There could be no worse fate than returning to the Mukuro Ikusaba of old.
A fate I deserve…
She'd have to confess it all. Go the others in the bathhouse and tell them everything. In fact, she should have done that to begin with. They deserved to know how dangerous and crazy she was, if only to be able to defend themselves against her. Afterwards, she could hole up in her dorm and never leave, and in that way be certain she wouldn't hurt anyone else. Yes, that was the way. That was the only reasonable thing she could do.
Mukuro pulled herself out from under the desk, grabbed the chair with a shaking hand, and made herself stand. She wobbled on her feet, but she could probably get back to the first floor alright.
Gotta find the others, she thought. Gotta tell them everything.
She looked over to the computer one last time, and suddenly remembered—
The other file.
She sucked in a gasp of air, then sighed.
Fine, she thought. Fully explore the computer, THEN tell the others right away.
She closed Jin Kirigiri's research, then clicked the last file: Door Code.
Unlike the others, this just opened a simple gray bar to input a password. Mukuro shook her head. Guessing something like that was completely impossible, but she'd already dedicated herself to "fully explore the computer."
She only owed it once chance. One shot at the password, then go talk to the others. What was the laziest, weakest password possible?
She quickly typed in Kyoko Kirigiri, knowing it was wrong, and hit Enter.
The wall beside her rumbled. The despair disappeared, replaced by alertness and surprise. A few feet away, part of the wooden wall slid backward and into itself, and revealed the door to a hidden room. Mukuro stood there for what might have been a full minute, completely dumbfounded.
Eventually, she regained her senses and peered inside the secret room. It was a small room with concrete walls and a variety of metal pipes. Like the hallway outside, there was a chill draft that froze her skin.
Three pieces of furniture were inside: a circular table, a set of shelves, and a desk. On the table was a goofily-wrapped birthday present box, on the shelf was a picture frame, and on the desk were a few scattered papers.
Swallowing hard, Mukuro entered the room. Her first instinct was the present. The ridiculous, colorful wrapping paper stood out so thoroughly from anything else she'd seen in Hope's Peak, especially the bleak desolation of the dorms' second floor and the professional atmosphere of the office, that no one could possibly look at anything else.
For that reason, she stepped around it like a landmine, hoping against logic that putting it off until last would make whatever surprise it held less terrifying.
Mukuro's eyes darted between the desk and picture on the shelf. Eventually, she went for the desk. The papers on its surface were yellow and deckled. A quick scan of them revealed they were just years-old bills for school supplies, as useless as they were uninteresting.
She threw open a drawer, but it was empty. The next drawer was empty as well. When she bent down to open the next and lowest drawer, she was certain she'd find nothing.
Thud
She bit the inside of her cheek. Something made of solid metal smashed inside of the wooden drawer. She looked inside and found…
An e-Handbook.
Mukuro wiped the thick dust off its surface, revealing sky blue metal. A red warning label on its bottom-right read IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.
A handbook with no limitations, given to the school's ultimate authority…
This was the power to enter anywhere in the school barred electronically. It weighed as much as a truck. Her hands were shaking.
Mukuro slipped it into her pants pocket, next to her real handbook. She wasn't sure what she'd use it for, but there would definitely be something useful for it to do later.
Next came the photo on the shelf. This one was much simpler to deal with than the desk, but perhaps represented more.
Even from across the room, it was obvious what this was: Jin Kirigiri lifting up his daughter into the air. Kyoko was maybe five or six in the picture, but it was unmistakably her.
She hasn't changed her haircut in ten years…
Mukuro managed a weak smile as she picked up the faded photograph. This would be a cute present for Kyoko; she'd probably love to see that her father kept this in his office.
She stared at it for a little while, studying the little girl. She was smiling and laughing and acting nothing at all like the young woman who now wandered Hope's Peak. Mukuro wiped her thumb over the glass frame and cleaned the section over the little girl's face.
When did she change…?
A better question occurred to her a moment later: Why did she change?
It was none of Mukuro's business, and yet…
What if she's the spy? What if she's an Ultimate Despair?
It wasn't impossible. This cute little girl could have survived some horrible trauma, been scarred and left feeling hollow and despairful. Hell, that was probably what had happened to Mukuro.
No! I'm just making excuses.
Mukuro shook her head to clear it. All of that was just an excuse not to tell the others about her own history. She had no good reason to suspect Kyoko. She couldn't let her resolve waver. The others had to know the truth.
She slipped the frame into another pocket and put it out of her mind. There was only one thing left to do now, and then she could return to Kyoko and the others and tell them about what she found.
Putting off the present until last hadn't helped at all. She stared at the ridiculous wrapping paper for seconds. A million possibilities rolled through her mind, none of them good. In fact, whatever was in there had to have been left by Junko or the spy. It had to either be dangerous or some kind of taunt, right? So, there was no point in opening it.
Her feet took her to the table, and her hands grabbed the box.
She tugged the shiny orange ribbon that secured the sides to the top. It fell to the floor without a sound. Trembling, she reached a hand over the top's edge and pulled it off as slowly as she could, waiting for it to explode or burst into spikes or shoot out poison gas. When it didn't, she peeked inside a corner of the box and bit down hard on her cheek.
It was bones.
She didn't yell out, which surprised her. In fact, her entire body relaxed as soon as she saw them. A white skull with a cracked frontal lobe smiled up at her, resting on a bed of ribs and arm bones.
Adult man, she knew instantly, though she had no idea how. Young or middle-aged.
Mukuro felt utterly calm as she looked over this last remnant of a man's life. She didn't feel sadness, despair, or even surprise… She didn't even feel numb. This was the most mundane thing in the world to her. And yet, though her heart seemed to have room only for boredom, she also felt disgust and shame for being this undisturbed.
She shook her head and traced a finger across the bones. They felt weak and fragmented, as if they might break apart at too strong a touch. To test this, she picked up a rib between her thumb and forefinger and pressed down. It crumbled to dust in a second. His death must have been agonizing.
Jin Kirigiri… A good man who tried to protect us… Who would be most likely to think it's funny to put him into a childish box like this?
There was only one answer, of course. The headmaster directly wrote it in his research for anyone to see:
I believe they might also even harm themselves and their own families, physically and emotionally, in an attempt to feel further despair…
The Ultimate Despairs could even target their own families… Mukuro swallowed, and thought back to her blonde sister on the bed, begging for mercy. Jin Kirigiri's words echoed in her mind:
I only pray that my daughter isn't one of them.