If Despair Never Ended

by Burpcycle

Fourteen students wake up in Hope's Peak Academy, confused and scared, just as a certain mastermind planned. But this time, the Ultimate Fashionista is missing. In her place is a naked, frightened girl with a host of injuries and no memories.

22. Chapter 4: Daily Life 3

It was late at night, at least according to the clock, and the cafeteria was empty but for two girls. Hina sat on a table, kicking her legs childishly into the air, and Mukuro was still restrained in her wheelchair. A half-eaten plate of green-and-yellow salad sat in the first girl's lap. Every few seconds, she stabbed at it with a fork, twisted, and pulled up some semi-appetizing piece of lettuce-and-dressing. After a moment's inspection to ensure it wouldn't fall apart, she raised it to Mukuro's lips, who accepted it and smiled as well as she could.

Even now, even burdened by all of this despair and misery, Mukuro was still too self-conscious to be fed in front of anyone else. She was thankful the others weren't around.

"I think Byakuya has some kind of secret plan," Hina said in a gossipy tone. She poked her cheek with her tongue, and tapped at the wheelchair with her foot. "Not sure what it is, though."

"Yeah," Mukuro nodded as well as she could, very sullenly. There was a leafy piece of something caught between her teeth, but she didn't care. Her mind was still half-on Sayaka's song. For all the talk about how idols can't really sing, and that they're all autotuned or something, those words still stuck in her mind. "He definitely does. Secret from us, and probably from Junko, too."

"He's such a—"

"Don't." Mukuro sighed. "If he can get everyone out without anyone else dying, then him being a jerk about it is fine."

"Hmph! You're way too understanding."

A crazed blue-haired idol flashed through Mukuro's mind, singing that evil, mocking tune.

"'Corpse Warblade,' one of us is named / For trapping us in Hell, she feels slightly ashamed / So hey, it's all cool! We should forgive and just hold hands!"

Mukuro's heart stuttered. She'd have grabbed at her chest if she could.

I wouldn't forgive someone who's done the things the Ultimate Despairs have done, and yet I'm the one who's too understanding?

Was it greedy to hope that somehow, Mukuro just accidentally died, and no one would be held responsible?

"I can't believe what Sayaka did up there," Hina muttered.

"Don't…" Mukuro rasped, very weakly. She felt like she deserved this pain, but greedy or not, she just couldn't tolerate it any longer. "Please…"

"O—okay!" Hina stammered. She reached out a hand and gripped the side of the wheelchair, and thought hard for a moment. "Uh… Um… Oh, swimming! I didn't get to teaching you how to swim better yet! We'll do that later, for sure!"

Water…

Mukuro swallowed. Swimming was okay to talk about. She was only a soldier.

I've probably never drowned anyone… Probably.

(Scene)

The next hour passed by without incident. Mukuro would have even enjoyed it, had she allowed herself to. Always, she kept a barrier between herself and genuine pleasure. She didn't deserve it.

Nevertheless, this was still the best time she'd had all day. Somehow, the conversation turned to diving, rather than specifically swimming, but it turned out that Hina knew everything about that subject, too. She talked a mile a minute about every conceivable intricacy of the subject, leaving Mukuro barely any time to respond – which was completely fine. Truthfully, the Ultimate Soldier barely paid attention. It was just nice to have someone who wasn't judging her, nice to have someone talk about something completely unrelated to killing games, identity crises, and evil twins.

Evil twins… Such a stupid cliché.

"Yeah," Hina rambled on. "So, if you surface too quickly, all these weird gases turn into bubbles in your bloodstream, and it makes you feel super awful, like you just ate so much you want to explode. Once, I went diving with my brother Yuta, and he didn't listen to me, and he was rolling around on the boat for an hour afterward. Did you know, there was a guy during World War II whose submarine crashed underwater at a depth of 170 meters, and he broke a world record for fastest surfacing when he escaped without any gear. That almost killed him, and then he had to swim to the nearest island." She crossed her arms and smiled, making no secret of her jealousy. "Even I've never done anything like that before!"

She seems so ditzy, but when she's passionate about something, Hina's actually kind of smart…

For a little while, the worst of Mukuro's problems melted away. She would never let herself enjoy anything again, but the rest of the world seemed almost normal. It was…

Almost nice.

At length, even Hina grew tired of their gossiping. She glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped.

"Oh, man, it's almost ten o'clock! We should get going."

They rolled out of the cafeteria exactly as the nighttime announcement played. As Monokuma's awful, screeching voice echoed in the halls, the two made for the dorm rooms.

By pure chance, they stumbled into someone just walking out of the warehouse. Mukuro turned her head as well as she could, and saw a certain guitar-loving redhead. In his hands, he carried an unused roll of duct tape and, oddly, ten circular pocket mirrors, the kind a stereotypical teenage girl would use to apply makeup while chatting to her friends. There were a million of those in the warehouse for anyone to take, but…

Why the hell does Leon have those?

Mukuro didn't realize it, but even her self-loathing was swept away by curiosity.

The Ultimate Baseball Star kicked the warehouse door shut behind himself, turned, and jumped back when he realized he had company. His eyes darted between the two girls, each of them sitting or standing perfectly still and staring at him blankly. For a long while, no one said a word.

"Hi, Leon…" Hina said, very awkwardly.

"… Heya."

"You, uh, need those mirrors for something?"

Leon looked down to the mirrors, then smiled nervously. He was sweating.

"These aren't for me. They're for…" His eyes seemed to glaze over for a second. "Toko."

"Really." Mukuro said. It wasn't a question.

"She needed five mirrors, so I'm… delivering them to her."

Mukuro looked back down to his hands. So did Hina.

"You have ten mirrors, though."

Thick, salty sweat poured down his brow.

"Well, duh," His plastic smile grew, and he did his best approximation of a scoff. "Five for Toko, five for Jack."

The air grew even stiller.

"Weeeeeeeeeelp," he said, and edged along the wall past them. "Think I'll just be heading out to my room, now."

"With the mirrors?" Hina asked.

"With the mirrors." he confirmed.

He scurried away a second later, and disappeared past a turn in the hallways with the tape and the mirrors.

"Mukuro," Hina whispered, a little frightened. "He's totally not planning… you know, right?"

Mukuro scrunched up her face. Duct tape probably had a million possible uses for a murder scheme, but hand mirrors? It was hard to imagine any way to kill a person with a hand mirror that needed nine extra ones.

"I doubt it," she said. "But even if he was, he probably won't be anymore, since we just saw him."

Hina sucked in her teeth.

"Monokuma said that you can kill two people, and… No. No!" She pulled her hands into fists. "I'm letting him get to me. I absolutely trust everyone here, at least enough that they won't kill anyone."

But as they wheeled through the quiet, empty hallways, both girls watched the shadows Leon had entered. Hina's hand edged toward her friend's, ready to pull on a knot and release her at any second. And despite all of her earlier protests, Mukuro didn't argue.

Nothing happened.

They unlocked the Ultimate Soldier's door just as uneventfully as they had the previous few days. Mukuro twisted her head around one last time as far as she could, watching for a flash of white clothes or red hair, just to be safe. Leon was absent, but in the corner of her eye, she caught just an instant of blue.

"Here!" Hina declared, and slammed the door shut before Mukuro could say anything. "Tomorrow, we'll swim, and maybe learn more about Byakuya's stupid plans."

Mukuro's eyes instantly went to the monitor hanging from the ceiling. Her heart started pumping harder just at the sight of it.

I could destroy it easily… But Monokuma might punish Hina. Even if he doesn't, it'll be fixed quickly, for sure…

"Hina," she said. "Could you please sleep with me again, tonight? … Maybe until things get better?"

"Sure!" Hina got to work on the ropes. "In fact, I was going to offer to." She smiled, a little sadly. "Heh… That night, with Sayaka and Leon and Makoto, when you stopped the first murder before it could happen… That night, Sakura and I were sleeping in the same room, 'cause I was worried."

Mukuro nodded, this time easily, since the ropes were off.

Sakura helped her that night, and it's the least she can do to emulate that for me, now…

The idea that Mukuro's weakness actually made Hina feel better, since it gave her the opportunity to embody Sakura's strength in some small way, was almost comforting. At the very least, it meant that Mukuro could still serve a purpose for someone she cared about, even tied-up, helpless, and despairful.

Hina bound her to the bed, this time not spread-eagle, turned off the lights, and climbed up onto the sheets next to her, still in her normal clothes. She yawned messily, and fell asleep in less than a minute.

"Night…" she mumbled, and wisps of saliva snapped between her lips.

There was still just enough light to see by. Mukuro's eyes trained on the monitor. The screen was wholly black, but it threatened to flicker to life at any moment. She waited, forcing herself not to shake, waiting for her doppelganger to appear.

Despite everything, she still wanted to be Mukuro, not Junko. Even if it didn't make any sense, even if Mukuro was just as bad as her sister, this was the only thing she desired, besides the safety of her friends. Not to escape, not to stop feeling all of this despair, not even to magically bring back Makoto and undo her many sins.

She'd trade anything, if only she could be Mukuro Ikusaba.

Sleep claimed her at some point, but her sister never appeared.

(Scene)

Mukuro's eyes flit up to the clock on the wall: 10:14 AM. She yawned.

The laundry room was very stuffy. It was always a little more humid than the rest of the school, and the air always felt like it was pressing down a little more than it did anywhere else, but for some reason, today was especially bad.

Hina busily stuffed red jacket after red jacket into a machine on the far end. She said nothing, but she seemed otherwise in good spirits. Truth be told, even Mukuro was not quite as paranoid and miserable as she normally was. A single night without Junko's appearance (at least, hopefully it was Junko) was almost enough to clear her head of worry. She almost had to consciously make herself feel bad.

I wonder if the person I was before, that Mukuro, could have stood a day without Junko…

She must have, if she'd run off to join a mercenary group for years. But somehow, she knew in her heart that the true Mukuro, whomever that was, had thought about her sister every day while separated.

Hina finished with the machine, turned it on, and stretched for a few seconds.

"Maaaaaan, Mukuro! I don't know how you can stand being tied up like that! I just have to keep myself active all the time or I'll go crazy!"

Behind her, a flurry of red-and-white clothes swirled behind a circular pane of glass, and the room filled with a deep rumbling. Hina looked almost excited as she jumped up and down, then punched the air. After that, she grabbed the handles of Mukuro's wheelchair with a little more energy than was actually necessary.

"I've got a great idea," she chirped, clearly very happy.

"What is it?"

They rolled out of the room and into the considerably better-ventilated hallways. Fresh air rushed against Mukuro's exposed skin.

"Well," Hina started. "It's—Oh!"

Across the way, they saw Byakuya just exiting the cafeteria. For once, a certain Ultimate Writing Prodigy was nowhere to be seen.

I wonder where she is…

He noticed them at the same time, and stopped in his tracks. His eyes locked on Hina's.

"I can see you have something to say to me." He rolled his eyes. "I suppose I might as well hear it."

"Sure, then!" Hina replied, her voice set and absolutely certain. "I'm gonna take Mukuro back up to the pool today, 'cause we can't spend all day, every day down here." She barreled on before he could refuse her. "But! I'm also gonna take her to the library, so we can grab some books for when we are stuck down here."

The ends of Byakuya's lips pulled into a cruel, mocking smile.

"I had no idea you knew how to read, Hina." he said, calmly. "Is Goodnight Moon your favorite, or are you up to The Very Hungry Caterpillar yet?"

"Ugh! What's your problem, Byakuya?!"

"… Are you serious?" He waved a hand at Mukuro. "You need to face reality. In a best-case scenario, your friend there helped trap us in a death game, rebelled against it only because her sister turned against her, might very well turn against us again if her memories are returned, and is extremely shortsighted and emotional even if she wouldn't."

"Mukuro's not shortsighted!"

THAT'S the part you disagree with?

"Hina… Killing Hifumi like that was an idiotic move. He was already dead no matter what happened. Being able to walk away after killing someone was an irreplaceable resource. Someone clearheaded would have left Hifumi to his fate, but she squandered it on pity, of all things." Hina's entire face turned red. He turned away before she could shoot back, but kept talking. "Tch. Go up the to the second floor, then. Stay with her, like before. But you don't need to let her out of the wheelchair to visit the library."

He was gone a moment later.

"I can't believe him!" she said.

Mukuro shut her eyes. Despair crushed her from all directions. She deserved it, and so it felt almost good.

She wanted to feel this way.

Hina harumphed, and they made for the main school building's stairs. On the way, they passed Hiro, who was playing with a crystal ball, Celeste, sipping tea near the student store, and Kyoko, who was just leaving the gym, deep in thought. All of them greeted the two politely, but said nothing substantial.

Hina pulled off the ropes, Mukuro hauled the wheelchair up the stairs, and they entered the now-familiar second floor hallways.

"Let's do the library first," Hina said.

"Then tie me back up."

"Oh, come on! That's ridiculous! We'll only be in there for a minute"

Mukuro sat back down on the chair, and closed her eyes.

"If someone else is in there, I don't want them complaining that we broke the rules. And… I deserve it, anyway."

Hina pursed her lips, but obeyed. A few minutes later, they rolled into the library, only to find that it was empty anyway.

It felt like it had been a million years since Mukuro had been in this room. Shelves overburdened with every type of book imaginable greeted them from every direction, save the one they came. A desk in the center was covered with stacks of barely-organized tomes, each as thick as an arm. Ancient, musty dust filled the air, and Hina sneezed twice as they quickly gazed over the scene.

"Okay!" she said. She kicked the entry door closed and parked Mukuro's wheelchair next to it. "What type of book do you like?"

"Do you mean… 'genre?'"

"Uh… yeah! Obviously, that's what I meant!"

Even Mukuro couldn't help smiling at her friend's nervous insistence, and obvious lie, that she'd known such a basic word.

"Well, I guess I don't really know."

"Oh, yeah, the amnesia. Jeez, it feels like I've known you for so long that I don't even think about that. Okay! Then, the only solution is to grab a book from every genre, and see which ones you like the most!"

"That… actually makes complete sense."

Hina set her hands on her hips and beamed with pride. A second later, she turned away and skipped over to a shelf that was especially full.

"Hm… Oh! Oh! Toko writes romance novels, right? I bet they've got some here. Hm…" She scanned a few rows. "'So Lingers the Ocean, by Toko Fukawa.' Um, 'linger' means 'wait,' right?"

Mukuro was about to respond when she felt a rush of air behind her back. The door had creaked open, but only just barely. In the corner of her eye, she saw the same flash of blue she had the previous night.

A skinny, pale hand pulled over her mouth. Mukuro tried to yell, but she was a second too slow, and the hand held some kind of white cloth. For a second, she feared it was laced with who-knows-what, but she breathed in reflexively, and tasted only normal air.

The hand pulled at Mukuro with all its strength, and—

It was actually pretty weak. Pathetically weak, even. Weaker than any of the boys, weaker than Toko, weaker probably even than Celeste.

Mukuro knew who it was, of course. Her instinct was to bite down, but she repressed it. She remembered the time she'd given into her instincts in the gym with Sakura, and almost kicked a spear through Hiro's face. And this person here and now was so weak physically that she feared causing permanent damage, even through the cloth, and so frail mentally that—

Maybe I'm not one to talk of others' mental weakness…

The door slid open slightly, just wide enough for the wheelchair, and Mukuro felt herself pulled through and into the hall. Despite everything, she still fought against the ropes, but it was a hopeless endeavor.

Another hand grabbed at the library door and pulled it almost closed, though it remained slightly ajar. Then, her captor flipped around the wheelchair until they were face-to-face. Her hands, so tiny and feeble, pressed on the two infinitely stronger, but restrained, ones tied to the chair. Dark bags hung under her beautiful blue eyes. They'd only grown in the time since Mukuro had seen her last. Her bangs were fraying, too. Sayaka had always swept hers to the left so that most of her forehead was hidden behind them, but now they grew in all directions, and the tiny dots of her pupils were half-invisible. Her teeth clattered sometimes, and at random moments, some kind of low whining noise rose out of her throat. It was only audible this close, but her lips, if closed, bubbled for a second whenever it happened.

"He died because of you."

Mukuro didn't have to ask whom she meant. She closed her eyes. She tried to shake her head.

"His luck…"

"Not that." Sayaka whispered. Her voice still had that airy quality to it, but it sounded like she was trying, for the first time in a while, to focus enough to really talk, to have a meaningful conversation. Her eyes watered, and she pressed a finger onto Mukuro's nose. "Though, also that. If he was really lucky, it would have been you who dropped the book. It should've been you."

The blood drained from Mukuro's face. She nodded. It was nothing she hadn't thought herself, before.

"Why wasn't it you?" Sayaka asked, desperately. "Why? Why? Why?"

"If I really am the Ultimate Lucky Student, then maybe me dying now, in this way, is the way that will save the most people. And… I still don't want to die, but I do want to save people."

It felt like months since Makoto had said those words, but they came to mind so clearly. She opened her mouth to repeat them, but the look in Sayaka's eyes said that she'd already thought of them, too. There was no point.

"But that's not what I meant, when I said he died because of you." the other girl said. "I meant, you have all this power," She poked Mukuro's restrained upper arms. Her finger was ice against the exposed muscle. "All this skill and fighting ability. You were as good as Sakura! And you… did nothing." She laughed, hoarsely. "You did nothing. Sakura was Monokuma's spy, and she still tried to save Makoto. But you…"

Mukuro sobbed. She babbled out a few words between the tears:

"If I'd known I was the Ultimate Soldier!" she cried. "If I'd known I could have fought!"

"But you diiiiiiiidn't!" Sayaka laughed, again more sharply. "Do you remember? Do you remember what he did right after saying that he hoped more of us would live this way?"

Mukuro's brow furrowed. She tried to bring it to mind, but she'd been in so much distress at that moment, she could barely think of anything else.

"Sayaka," Makoto said. "I don't blame you for anything. But I need you to do me a favor."

She nodded, just barely. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear. She burned red, then looked away. She couldn't stand.

"Do you know what he said to me?" Sayaka whispered. "Do you know?"

Mukuro shook her head as much as she could. She was still crying. Her cheeks were on fire with the tears, but she wanted to know.

"I'll tell you," the broken idol giggled. "If you answer a question for me."

Mukuro nodded.

"The last thing he whispered to me was this: 'Don't blame Mukuro, please be friends with her.'"

Despite everything, Mukuro smiled. That was so like Makoto.

"But I do blame you," Sayaka wheezed. Tears poured down her face, but she was also smiling. "I hate you. I wanted to make it up to him. I wanted him to forgive me for what I did that night, I wanted things to go back to the way they were… I knew him for years, but I still hurt him!" Her bloodshot eyes went wide with rage, and she pushed her face close to Mukuro's. They were almost touching. "If he'd only lived, if I'd only gotten him out of the trial, even against his will!"

"I'm sorry…"

"No, you're not!" Sayaka snarled. "You'd save the others over him, again!"

Mukuro looked away in shame. She wasn't sure that was true, but she dared not deny it.

"But… I know it doesn't make sense!" Sayaka stammered.

For the first time, the soldier looked, really looked into the idol's eyes, looked past her shattered demeanor and her self-hate, useless rage, and the obvious insanity consuming her.

She saw a weak girl there, barely more than a child, swallowed by the same ocean of despair drowning herself. Two lost souls, victims of the same dark torrent of emotion. She saw that same brilliant potential that shone in every student of Hope's Peak, smothered out by despair, helpless to right itself above the waves.

"Sayaka…" she breathed.

"I know it doesn't make sense!" Sayaka repeated. Her voice broke several times. She was on the verge of screaming. "I know you didn't do anything wrong! I know no one did anything wrong! Even in Hifumi's trial, when I tried to convince the others you did it, I didn't understand what I was doing! But I still hate you! I still blame you! I can't help it, I can't help it!" She grabbed at her temples and shook her head, groaning in agony. "I don't want to help it anymore, I don't know why I'm even fighting, I want to just accept it all and give in and feel nothing but—my question." One of her eyes twitched. "Answer my question!"

"What is it?" Mukuro asked, terrified.

"What is it like to be an Ultimate Despair?" Shakily, Sayaka moved her hands onto Mukuro's again. "Is it just that you're an Ultimate, and you always feel miserable and hateful? Or is there more to it?"

"Sayaka, please, don't…"

"Tell me!" She pressed a hand onto Mukuro's cheek. Her skin was like winter. "Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Even Mukuro didn't know why she said what she did.

"I don't know what they do…"

"They?" Sayaka's eyes went wide. Mukuro could see the blood vessels underneath the sclerae. "There are… more than just two?"

"I don't know how many more…" she rasped. "But I think… they worship my sister?"

"Junko…" Sayaka breathed. Her eyes unfocused, and the tears ceased to flow, and she nodded absently to herself. "Yes, Junko…"

She stepped away, wobbling around in a daze, no longer paying Mukuro any attention. A few seconds later, she was gone.

The door to the library flew open.

"Mukuro!" Hina cried. "What happened to you?! How'd you get outside?"

Mukuro didn't reply. She couldn't.

Sayaka was in so much pain. More than Makoto had been, more than Hifumi, perhaps even more than Mukuro herself. All she'd ever wanted was to save her friends from Junko's machinations, and now they were all dead, and so was Makoto. Hina spoke often of Mukuro redeeming herself in the others' eyes, of fixing things and proving she was a good person inside… but even that measure of absolution was denied to Sayaka. The only people who could forgive her were all dead.

How could I have gone all this time without understanding her?

"I… rolled backward…" she whispered, not knowing why she lied.

Hina looked back to the door, which had been mostly closed just a moment before. She pursed her lips, debating whether or not to call Mukuro on the blatantly obvious.

At last, she turned back to her friend, nodded, and took her back into the library.

Minutes passed as Hina assembled more books, mostly in silence. After a while, Mukuro's emotions calmed a little. The idol's pained expression still danced in the corners of her sight, but a certain thought came to the soldier:

I can't tell if she wants to kill anyone, anymore.

Way back, Mukuro foiled Sayaka's plan to kill Leon simply by knowing that she was planning to hurt someone. After that, it had been clear that she no longer held any killing intent, and things had seemed alright for a while.

Now, though, her feelings were in as much flux as Mukuro's own. Even when the soldier had been completely at her mercy, it didn't even occur to her that Sayaka might be dangerous in a physical sense.

"Hina…" she said, not thinking.

The other girl twisted around, blinked, and shot Mukuro a kindhearted smile.

"Yeah?"

"Um… Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure! Anything."

"If I'm not around… please, don't go near Sayaka."

Hina made no indication of it, but Mukuro knew that she understood.

(Scene)

Mukuro groaned, and shook her head ruefully from side to side. Swimming with Hina had been a fine idea. Competing with Hina had been an act of insanity.

Her eyes were closed, and she genuinely wasn't sure she had the strength left to open them. She pressed up against the side of the pool, wading and letting her legs float loosely in the water. If the pool had had tides, she would have washed out to sea and never been found again.

Every one of her muscles was either on fire or felt like jelly. Even her eyelids felt like she'd overused them. Mukuro was strong, easily the strongest student left now that Sakura was gone, but three-odd hours of competition in the water had put to rest any ambition she had of stealing that Ultimate Swimming Pro title.

Hina sat on the edge of the pool, very nearby, probably smiling to herself. All that 'working through her pent-up energy,' and she was barely even winded. Somehow, even after hours of swimming, that ridiculous hair spike-meets-ponytail stayed in shape. Another secret of her talent, perhaps. Mukuro was too exhausted to care about that, but even her ability to worry in general had been lost to the rippling waves.

How can I carry all this despair, with arms too tired to carry anything?

She snorted, and regretted the movement instantly. Now her shoulders were crying out in agony – but it was a fun, happy type of pain, and she was too worn down to keep up that barrier that separated herself from happiness. Perhaps she would regret letting herself feel this way later, but for now, the world seemed to almost make sense. Byakuya might have been right to call her emotionally volatile; not a few hours earlier, she was certain she'd never stop hurting.

"Stop, stop!" she groaned.

"Oh?"

Hina laughed, kicked up some water, and kindly set So Lingers the Ocean on the top of a growing pile.

"I guess you're not a fan of Toko's work, then?"

"I mean, I can tell it's well-written," Mukuro conceded. "But I don't want to hear mushy romantic stuff. It's just not for me."

"Heheh, better not tell her that."

"Why, do you like it?"

Hina shrugged.

"I'm not really a… book person in general. But don't tell Byakuya that!"

She reached over for another novel from the yet-unread pile. It was much shorter than the pile of books Mukuro had so far dismissed. Most of them, they'd read less than half a page of. For a few of them, mostly sci-fi and fantasy stuff that seemed more aimed at people like Hifumi, they'd read only a few sentences.

"Okay," Hina chirped. The book in her hands had a cover with a bloodshot eye. "This one's called… The Eye-Scream Killer. It's a mystery."

"Not a very clever title," Mukuro mused.

"Really? I thought it was smart!"

Mukuro pursed her lips, and forced herself not to laugh at her friend's expense. It was a good thing her eyes were still closed, or else she might have looked over and smirked. As it was, she let Hina's voice take her away.

"It was five o'clock on a cold, windy morning in London. An empty, rocky road led to the boarding platform at Sinamon. Alongside it stood the train grandly known as the Vanilla Express…"

Mukuro had dismissed entire novels for less than three sentences' worth of content. So far, she wasn't offended. Hina's voice bubbled with excitement over how they'd made it ten seconds in without a problem.

It wasn't long before the crux of the novel was presented: a train of fifty people cut off from the rest of the world, a woman whose eyes were cut out, boiled, and unknowingly consumed by the wealthiest passengers as part of a dessert, and a list of suspects that numbered a doctor, a priest, an athlete, and a scientist.

"It's the priest." Mukuro said in the middle of a paragraph. They were only ten pages in.

"How do you know?"

"I just do." She didn't move at all, except her lips. "I'll bet you anything that the doctor gets blamed until he's murdered, and then they think it's the scientist until the last second."

Mukuro didn't open her eyes, but she could hear Hina flip through the pages to the last chapter. There was silence for a little bit, and then Hina made a very gruff grunting noise.

"… Maybe you read this book in the past, and you're remembering its plot subconsciously?"

"Maybe," Mukuro agreed. "But that's because I just like mystery stories."

She'd meant to say that as a possibility, that she might like mystery novels… but instead, it came out very confidently. She wasn't sure if that boded well or poorly, but even with her eyes closed, she could tell Hina was delighted that they'd dredged up one of Mukuro's forgotten interests.

"Yeah!" The Ultimate Swimming Pro clapped her hands together. She probably pumped her fists as well, though Mukuro couldn't see. "You were pretty good in the trials. So, we'll pick some more up after the pool."

Mysteries… I suppose it makes sense. Junko and I set up an entire mystery-investigation-trial sequence for this game. We must both have some kind of affection for it.

"Okay," she breathed, and let the water take her away.

(Scene)

Hina wheeled Mukuro out of the changing room and into the hallway. It was well after the vaguely defined dinnertime the students set, and someone downstairs had surely prepared a meal. There would be leftovers waiting for them.

Too bad we don't have an Ultimate Cook… Although, who knows? Maybe he'd be quick to start killing, anyway.

Both girls still had wet hair, and a little bit of moisture still clung to their bodies. Mukuro could feel the slight dampness between her delicate, tired body and her clothes, or between her skin and the ropes, but she said nothing. It would dry off soon enough, and she was still sore from an entire day spent exercising.

Just before they made for the library, they saw a quick flash of white on the stairwell coming down from the third floor. It paused for a second, and more clearly turned into the form of Kiyotaka Ishimaru. He didn't jump back when he saw them, but he did look surprised. He was carrying something small and pink in his hands.

"Aoi, Mukuro," he said at once. At least he didn't seem scared. "I am certain you both remained in the pool area all day, correct?"

"That's right," Hina said. "Except when we picked up some books from the library." She motioned to the small pile of novels on Mukuro's lap.

"Good, good."

Taka slipped a hand into his uniform, then removed his logbook. Impressively, he managed to scribble down their activities for the day with a hand holding both a pen and the pink object.

That pink thing…

"Taka," Mukuro asked. "Why do you have Kyoko's camera?"

Taka's eyebrows shot up. He whipped the logbook and pen back into his uniform, then examined the gaudy pink camera a few times.

"Er… That is…" He tapped a foot on the ground for a few seconds, clearly lost for words. After a while, he made a fist and shouted, very needlessly, back at the girls. "Hmph! I am under no obligation to answer that question!"

"I didn't say you were… I was just curious."

Taka scowled, probably more at himself than at Mukuro. Then he sighed, rather guiltily.

"Ah, you don't deserve me being angry at you. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry, Mukuro, but I still can't tell you why I have this camera. Please understand." He moved for the staircase back to the ground floor, then paused for a second. He turned back to Mukuro, and nodded. "For whatever it is worth, I think you did the right thing with Hifumi."

"You mean, exposing him in the trial?"

"No, that's not what I meant." In a very uncharacteristic move, Taka rubbed the back of his head and frowned. It was one of the few times he'd ever seemed less-than-absolutely-certain of himself. "I meant sparing him the humiliation and pain of one of Monokuma's punishments. I don't think anyone could have handled watching another one after what happened to Makoto."

Mukuro winced when she heard his name, but she managed a smile.

"Thank you, Taka."

"Hmph." Taka crossed his arms. He looked a little friendlier than usual, or perhaps he just seemed more compromising. There was definitely something different, something in his expression that was more sympathetic than he'd been in a long time.

He opened his mouth to speak again, then thought better of it, and scurried away.

"What was that about?" Hina asked.

"I think he's torn between emotions," Mukuro said. "What he wants to do and what he feels obligated to do."

I sure know what that's like.

Hina chuckled for a moment.

"I bet that's a new feeling for the Ultimate Moral Compass."

"Is it…?" Mukuro said, quietly. Hina redirected them toward the library again, but Mukuro kept talking, half to herself. "What makes someone the Ultimate Moral Compass? Is it that he always chooses the most just action possible, even in difficult situations… Or is it that his sense of morality is so strong that he never sees any scenario as difficult to begin with?"

The first is probably what I want to be, and the second is something I almost can't even conceive of.

Hina pursed her lips.

"Jeez, I didn't think this'd turned into a philosophy thing! I was just joking around; I didn't mean anything deep by it."

It didn't matter. Mukuro's mind was set on examining this new idea, and she trudged through it like a person would wade through waist-deep mud. Until this moment, Taka had always just been the kind-of-annoying kid who screamed a lot. Even the other Mukuro on the TV had complained about him.

Leon, Hifumi, Sayaka, Taka… Every time someone seems one-dimensional and stupid, I look closer, and realize they're just as complex as anyone else…

That had to be how the others saw her, too. They looked at her and saw someone one-dimensional, but in her case, most perceived her as dangerously crazy or unreliable, rather than just stupid or foolish. Hina looked at her and saw only someone in desperate need of help. They were all guilty of the very same thing Mukuro was, weren't they? Everyone was. Even the clearly brilliant Byakuya seemed to see potential treachery in everyone and reduce his peers to just a quick judgment of their intelligence. Every single person in Hope's Peak was guilty of the same flaw: assuming everyone was a one-dimensional anime character, except perhaps for Kyoko.

If everyone truly is more complex than I thought… Is Junko, too?

Just assuming that the girl who tormented her whenever she was alone was really Junko, of course. Could it be that she had some secret, sympathetic reason for torturing everyone? Something more complicated than just 'I feel despair, and I want to make others feel it, too?' That might have been the most unsettling thought of them all. A cartoonishly evil Junko Enoshima, whose only motive was destruction itself, was preferable. She'd be a monster who couldn't be reasoned with, but at least she could be resisted without regret.

That other girl clearly believed Mukuro to be an inferior, stupid, gutless sycophant. If she truly was Mukuro, and there was nothing more to her than that, then she disgusted the girl in the wheelchair all the more, not just for being a monster, but also for accepting and loving life as Junko's ambitionless doll. She wasn't just a monster; she was also less than human.

Her hands pulled into useless fists. Fatigue and soreness didn't matter anymore. Even now, even in this very moment, she'd surrendered her free will and movement for the benefit and relief of others. Consciously, she knew that this was completely different, that she'd let Byakuya tie her up to keep everyone safe, whereas she'd given her life to Junko out of simple dedication and loyalty, but her heart screamed that even now, she was still the same Mukuro as before.

Or else, she was Junko's simulacrum of her own pathetic sister.

Slowly, she returned to reality. She realized, somewhat to her surprise, that Hina had parked the wheelchair in a corner of the library far away from the door. She wasn't hurt by the realization. If anything, she had to repress a smile at this evidence that the donut-obsessed Ultimate Swimmer, too, was cannier than she seemed.

Hina stacked the books from earlier in a lazy pile on the center desk, not bothering to return them to their appropriate shelves. After that, she made for the mystery section, tapping her foot on the floor and humming as she scanned the novels' spines.

I was here for years… If I really do have a thing for mystery novels, maybe I've already read them all?

That was an interesting thought, but did Mukuro actually want to remember her past? Definitely not. Had it just been her here, she would have retreated away from the dusty old books like she had that strawberry that her sister had tried to feed her. But Hina was clearly so excited…

What'll happen if I get my memories back? Will I return to that terrible person I was before?

She shuddered. Above all other things, she had to avoid that.

Especially if I'm… the other sister…

The uncertainty of it was almost as bad as the possibility. Hina was satisfied with the answer she'd provided; Mukuro herself was not. She would have almost rather learned she was Junko for certain than be trapped forever in limbo.

"… Mukuro?"

"Eh?"

She shook her head. She'd let herself wander off into her own dark thoughts twice in a single minute.

"I asked if these look good to you."

Hina held up two books: Murder on a Midnight Morning and The Girl in Gray. Absently, Mukuro nodded. For the third time in a minute, her mind was elsewhere. Her friend gently set the books in her lap, pumped a fist, and rolled her out of the room.

(Scene)

"Hang out here for a bit," Hina said. "I'll grab some food from the kitchen."

"Okay."

Hina left Mukuro parked on the wheelchair, books still on her lap, in the cafeteria. Despite being near dinnertime, the room was empty. Mukuro sighed and looked up to the clock on the wall, wondering if the hands actually made ticking noises and she was just too far away to hear them, or if it was fully silent. A modern clock couldn't possibly use 19th-century clockwork, so that tick sound would have to be artificially added, and—

She sighed, annoyed at herself.

Is this what I'm reduced to? she wondered, half as a joke. Think about the interior mechanics of clocks, my only hope that Byakuya has some kind of amazing killer plan hidden up his sleeve?

"Ah!" cried out a feminine, warbling voice.

Mukuro caught a flash of brown in the doorway to the dorms. Toko was there, sticking her head out, chewing on her thumb.

Toko…

Now that Mukuro thought about it, Toko was one of the few people she'd never really sat down and had a real conversation with. She'd always seen her as just an ill-tempered, mewling fool in desperate need of… something. Something Mukuro couldn't even identify, much less provide.

If I betrayed my sister for everyone else's sake, then… The least I can do is learn more about the people I wanted to help, right?

She smiled warmly, wriggled her right hand out of the ropes as much as she could, and gave Toko a very tepid wave. Slowly, the other girl emerged from behind the doorway, still chewing on her finger, and dared to approach.

"Wh—why can you still move y—your hand like that?!" she demanded. "Sh—shouldn't you be even m—more tied up?"

"Sorry…" Mukuro said, politely. "I promise, I haven't done anything… See? All I can do is sort of wave." To emphasize the point, she twisted her hand around as much as she could. Just as she'd claimed, waving two inches to the right or left was the extent of her free movement. Toko harrumphed, but Mukuro kept smiling. "It's good to see you, Toko. I thought I'd be alone in the cafeteria."

"Wh—why would it b—be good to s—see me?"

"I—"

"Oh!" Her eyes narrowed. "I—I get it… You're h—happy because I'm e—eating, and you w—want me to get f—fat!"

"What?! No, I—"

"Gonna o—offer me some of A—Ashina's donuts, a—aren't you?!"

"No!"

"Then wh—what?!" she sneered. "You th—think I'm ugly, d—don't you?!"

"No! You're fine! You're pretty, even!"

"L—liar!"

Her eyes darted down to Mukuro's lap.

Oh, yeah! Toko's a wizard with books, and Hina and I went to the library! What a lucky coincidence. It might even save this conversation.

"Um, I recently discovered that I kind of like mystery novels," Mukuro offered, pleading with her voice for sympathy. "Do you… Maybe have any suggestions?"

"Hmph! I'm s—surprised you c—can even r—read, you… c—crazy, murdering soldier bitch…! Wh—what kind of girl runs o—off to the Middle-East and j—joins a bunch of w—warmongers?!"

"Well, I—"

"I bet y—you were the only g—girl among dozens of b—boys! Disgusting! You desert s—slut!"

"But—"

"A—And if you're J—Junko, like we th—thought?! Then y—you'd be an even b—bigger one! D—don't think I d—didn't see how happy y—you were… When the i—idol slut s—screwed up with M—Makoto, and you r—realized you actually h—had a sh—shot!"

Mukuro's mouth fell open. To say something like that to someone who'd tried to be kind! Her hands strained against the ropes without her meaning to, and an unpleasant heat rose in her chest. She realized, to her abject shock, that she was angry.

Had she ever felt this way before? Maybe, but not since losing her memories. When Makoto had died, when she'd almost killed Hiro, when she'd condemned Hifumi to death, when the other Mukuro told her that she was irredeemable or worse, all those times, she'd felt nothing but despair and misery. Passive emotions, things that just made her want to lay down and die. Anger was like a splash of water across her face. It felt like something completely misplaced, like a car in the ocean, like a bird underground, like…

Like an Ultimate Despair working with everyone else.

"I'm n—not like the o—others, I d—don't hate being here, n—not as long as M—Master Byakuya's with me… But I d—do hate f—feeling like I c—could be killed at any m—moment, and it's a—at least partly your fault! And n—now you're t—trying to l—look smart by r—reading mystery b—books?!" Toko snorted, and her lips curled into a cruel smile. "E—everyone knows that m—mysteries only appeal to the l—lowest common d—denominator! I b—bet your big b—breasted friend wou—"

The ropes around Mukuro's right arm exploded. Her hand whipped out faster than she could see, and she was suddenly squeezing the terrified girl's orange ascot. She pulled back, and Toko's entire body left the floor, as if she was just a weightless doll, and she screamed as Mukuro rent her throat apart.

Or not.

Mukuro banished the thought of murdering another student, scowled, and looked away. Her arm was still firmly kept in place by the ropes. At least no one else would ever know what she'd imagined herself doing.

"—would a—also be interested in m—mystery books, too!" Toko finished, still sneering.

Mukuro breathed in and out. Her entire body felt hot, especially her chest. Weirdly enough, it felt good. That pain that always accompanied despair and misery wasn't present, and neither was the thrill and contentment of genuine happiness.

Anger was so alien a sensation that it almost confused her. She knew for certain that she wanted to smack Toko across the side of the head, but beyond that, she had no idea what to do with this emotion.

Yet one thing was clear:

I'd rather be the Ultimate Fury than the Ultimate Despair.

Yes! To defeat Junko with just raw anger. She could get free of this wheelchair, grab a pipe or a knife, find their tormentor, and strike down the army of Monokumas she'd summoned to protect herself. And then, at the end, Junko would cower in some corner, begging about how they were sisters, helpless before Mukuro's bloody wrath, helpless to protect herself from vengeance for all the people she'd killed!

Mukuro looked up to that horrible girl, still chewing on her thumb and calling her names, and decided to embrace this new, powerful emotion. Maybe not by attacking physically. Toko probably didn't deserve that. But you didn't need to be an Ultimate Writing Prodigy to make use of language.

There was so much that could be said. So much that could reduce Toko to a quivering pile on the ground while Mukuro hovered above her and scoffed.

"Byakuya will never love you, and it's not because you're ugly, it's because you're a horrible person. If he was trapped here forever, you'd be his last choice of girl."

"You're right, you're everyone's least favorite classmate. We even like Jack more than you."

"Everyone would hate you except for the stunt you pulled with your leg. Self-harm is the only useful thing you ever did for us."

"Byakuya would just turn you in to the police if he could, and you'd spend the rest of your life in a mental asylum, which is what you deserve."

Yes, it would start here. Today: destroy Toko. Tomorrow: bask in anger and hate. The day after: end Junko, and end it all.

Mukuro opened her mouth to shout all of those horrible, monstrous things at the other girl, smiling evilly as images of a crying, broken Ultimate danced across her vision. And then—

She looked into Toko's eyes, and realized the other girl was as scared and lonely as herself. This dour, introverted girl had made mistakes in her life, horrible ones, that led her to hurt innocent people, and the others kept her at arm's length, fearing the crazy, bladed personality that slept inside her chest. Now she was lonely and hurting and gave herself fully to one other person for guidance…

Mukuro's face screwed up. Tears streamed down her cheeks, which felt like they were on fire, and even though she was still seething, her heart had equal room for pity, either for the other girl or for herself.

"Wh—why are you crying?" Toko asked, perplexed. She stepped back, dismayed and suspicious. "Y—You… If what I s—said hurt you that b—badly, then you'll n—never survive your s—stupid sister!"

Mukuro's throat tightened. She couldn't respond. Her heart was caught between anger and sympathy, and her mind didn't know how to make sense of it. Her head fell limp and low, and her tears slid into her lips. She didn't understand her own actions.

Toko growled, bewildered or disoriented, tugged at one of her braids, and scampered away for the hall to the dorms. As she ran across the cafeteria, she looked back. Her eyebrows arched, and she made one last futile attempt ad understanding Mukuro's pain before disappearing.

Why does learning always have to hurt?

(Scene)

The other Mukuro didn't appear that night. The real Mukuro (probably) slept almost tranquilly alongside Hina on her bed. If she dreamed, she didn't remember anything, and that was almost as good as peace.

The morning announcement played, Hina and Mukuro took turns showering, they dressed, they tied her to the wheelchair, Hina scarfed down a pre-breakfast (preakfast?) powdered donut… It was strange that so bizarre a situation could feel so routine. The only new element was that she still felt sore from the previous day, and even then, the sensation was disappearing rapidly.

They rolled into the cafeteria at about 9:00 AM. Except for Sayaka, everyone else was at the largest central table. Several messy completed plates sat here and there over the surface, and at a glance, only Leon was still working through what looked like a pile of slightly charred pancakes.

All eyes turned to the new arrivals. Toko stepped behind Byakuya wringed her hands, watching Mukuro like a hawk, but the others regarded her with only the same moderate suspicion they always did.

"Hey, that's a good idea!" Hiro slammed his fist into his open palm. "Mukuro, Hina, we were just talking about you!"

"… Really?" Hina asked. She cocked her head. "What about?"

"We were discussing the topic of Monokuma, actually," Celeste interjected. "More specifically, about his startling absence from our affairs for the past few days. We were trying to determine if anyone had seen him since the trial."

"No one has," Leon said. "At least, no one here."

"Oh… Well, we saw him, once," Hina said instantly. "The day after the trial, when all you guys were exploring, me and Mukuro were in the cafeteria. He showed up for a minute to make fun of us, then he left."

"And you haven't seen him since then?" Byakuya clarified.

"Nope. Right, Mukuro?"

"Right."

He sank deep into thought.

"Then no one's seen him for days. He doesn't respond when we call him, either."

"Why?" Hina blinked. "What's that mean?"

"I—If we knew th—that, we wouldn't h—have to have a m—meeting about it!" Toko groaned. "J—Jeez, try thinking for a m—moment!"

"I've been reluctant to try this, but if something happened to Monokuma, it may be a good time to try breaking one of his rules…" Byakuya mused.

"That's dangerous." It was the first time Kyoko had spoken, at least since Mukuro and Hina had entered. She sat at an end of the table, a bit apart from the others. "We don't know what his game is."

"It's possible that something happened to Junko," the Ultimate Affluent Progeny shot back. "If so, we'd be fools not to take advantage of it."

"What rule do you even want to try breaking, man?" Leon asked. "Uh… Just making sure you don't mean… y'know, murder."

"Isn't it obvious? The one he added last time."

"He added a rule?" Hina asked.

"Dude, did no one tell you?" Hiro laughed. "Here!"

He tossed his e-Handbook over to her. It was already pulled up to the page in question. Hina tilted the screen so both she and Mukuro could read it.

Rule #12: Attempting to break into locked rooms is strictly prohibited.

"Oh," Mukuro said. "I guess you want to break into either the headmaster's office or the data processing center, right?"

"Well…" Byakuya raised an eyebrow. "Not precisely. We don't actually know that something happened to Junko. She might be trying to bait us into breaking a rule so she can kill someone, like she did with…" He scowled for a moment, and played with the edge of his glasses. "The biker idiot…"

"Mondo." Leon suggested.

"Yes, him. I want those rooms broken into, but unless we know for sure that Junko is gone, it would be extremely foolish to do it myself."

"Wait, what?" Taka made a fist. "Are you so craven that you'd order someone else to break down the door and risk death on your behalf?!"

Byakuya shrugged.

"It's not cowardice, it's good use of resources. I think—"

"I'll do it." Mukuro said.

Hina gasped.

"No! You can't!"

"I can… In fact, I'm probably the only one of us who can break down a big steel door like the data processing center's."

Kyoko stared down at her. Even by her standards, the lavender-haired girl was unusually intense.

"This is very dangerous, Mukuro. You could die."

Mukuro looked down at her bound hands and feet. The others still distrusted her, and for good reasons, but if she could win back just a little bit of their faith by doing this…

"Don't worry about me," she said, pretending not to be scared. "I'm the Ultimate Soldier, right? I've destroyed Monokumas before. Junko… can't actually hurt me, at least not directly."

A low, uncomfortable murmuring filled the room. Some of the students were afraid of releasing Mukuro, and some were against letting her risk her own life. A few of them were both.

"Are we really certain?" Celeste asked. She remained composed, but her voice was just slightly too high-pitched to keep her words secret from Mukuro and Hina. "The message on the drawer…"

Hina puffed out her cheeks, but quickly dismissed the Ultimate Gambler and kneeled by the wheelchair. She looked genuinely hurt.

"Mukuro… You don't have to do this, even if they want you to. Even if you want to…"

"Like I said, Monokumas can't hurt me, at least not as long as I'm free. They've tried before and failed."

"But…" Hina whipped her head toward the others, who all watched in a deep silence. A moment later, her voice dropped to a hushed tone. "You said yourself that you might not be really be… You know…"

Mukuro smiled, very sadly. She didn't bother hiding her response from the others, though they probably knew what Hina was saying, anyway.

If she died doing this, her only regret would be that it would hurt Hina.

"I'm invincible," she said, decisively. "So, if the others will let me, then I'll do it."

Celeste tapped one of her long fingernails on the surface of the table.

"Not even the Ultimate Soldier can break down a steel door with just her fists," she said. "So, I assume you have a plan in mind?"

Mukuro half-snorted, half-laughed.

"We can do the headmaster's office first…" She looked right at her. Behind her, at the back of the room, a certain girl with fraying blue-hair and unwashed clothes idly played with her hairclip. "But if you want to get into the data processing center, I might just have an idea."

(Scene)

Mukuro's stomach churned. A sallow feeling of trepidation consumed her, and beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and off the tip of her nose. She was shaking, and her breaths were weak and shallow.

Also, she needed to pee a little.

Talking about breaking the rules and busting down a door had been one thing. But now she stood in front of the headmaster's office, mere feet away from directly contradicting Monokuma's orders, and her skin crawled. Had it been just her, she might have even chickened out.

The double doors to Jin Kirigiri's office lay at the end of a foreboding, empty hallway. There was no mistaking it: if you walked in this direction, there was no possible goal you could have except to approach him. They were made of thick brown wood cut in an old, classical style that looked absolutely nothing like the rest of the school, like they were lifted directly out of a courthouse or an important government building. Given that Hope's Peak was an academy of global importance, that might have actually been true. Mukuro felt anxious just looking at them.

Energy bubbled up inside her, and her ankles moved on their own. She jumped up and down twice, watching those doors. Her instincts told her that they'd throw themselves open at any moment, and a black-and-white ocean of Monokumas would come rushing out and consume them all—

But nothing happened.

She was free. She could flex her muscles, and no ropes would constrain them. What's more, the others had even armed her with a long lead pipe, one that she tapped against the floor and played with in her right hand. The heavy metal vault at the entrance to the school might have been able to stop Mukuro, but these doors, however magnificent, didn't stand a chance.

She twisted around and looked back the way she'd entered from. Almost everyone poked their heads around a bend in the hallway, watching her with rapt attention. Hina was the worst. She was sweating as badly as Mukuro on her worst days, and fidgeting as much as Toko on… well, normal days. Behind her, Celeste and Kyoko surveyed the scene, watching for any obvious traps along the hallway or door. Sayaka sat cross-legged on the floor, smiling and tapping the wall, clearly entranced. As always, her intentions were a mystery.

They'd left the wheelchair back on the first floor. Whether or not Mukuro would be reconfined to it after helping everyone had been left strategically undiscussed. She'd already made the decision not to bring it up, but if the others asked, she would acquiesce at once.

"You guys stay back there," she yelled. "I'll break down the door and check inside for anything weird. If I say to, or if he shows up, then just run."

Toko, Leon, and Hiro already looked ready to hightail it out of there as it was. Byakuya was calmer, of course, but Mukuro could tell that he was also prepared to leave at a moment's notice.

He probably only came himself to make sure I don't mess with anything in the office after I get it open.

It was only just then that she realized someone was absent.

"Hey," she shouted. "Where's Taka?"

"I gave him something else to do," Byakuya responded, instantly. "You don't need to know what it is. Just deal with the door."

Mukuro puffed out one of her cheeks, but she knew it wasn't worth fighting him over this. She nodded, mostly to pretend she didn't care, and turned back to the office.

She leapt forward, slashed her pipe twice to the right and twice to the left, and the doors' hinges exploded into shrapnel. Dozens of metal scraps bounced off the walls and tore the clean gray tiles to shreds, but not one of them so much as grazed the Ultimate Soldier. She launched off the floor without even thinking, and her body instinctively twisted out of their way on its own. She kicked off the wide of a wall a second before a metal bolt would have blown through her big toe, swiveled her body, and dodged another section of metal. Anyone else would have been lacerated for sure, and as she flew through the air, only one thought flew with her:

The student profile said that Mukuro could never be hit by an enemy, no matter how dangerous the battle…

Metal clinked to the floor, and Mukuro landed last. She was grinning ear-to-ear, relishing the sensation of her heart racing against her chest. Her hand squeezed around the end of the pipe, and she brought it up to her chest and hugged it without thinking.

She wanted to try that again.

One good kick each to the knobs, and the doors collapsed inward. A resounding thud echoed into the hallways, and thick dust, disturbed for the first time in years, exploded out. It billowed up her nostrils, and she sneezed violently several, but by the end, Mukuro was still beaming.

She stepped inside, still wielding the pipe. She'd never felt so certain of herself, so convinced of her own invulnerability. Nothing in the physical realm could ever touch her; in Hifumi's terms, she was playing on invincible mode.

No wonder I fell to despair. Emotions are the only thing that can hurt me, huh?

She wanted a spear to fly out at her neck, a trapdoor beneath her feet to spring, or the ceiling to come crashing down… Her skin was itching for it, her heart was pumping for it… This, precisely this, is what she lived for!

… but nothing happened.

Like the doors, this office looked nothing like what you'd expect of a school headmaster or principal. Two flags emblazoned with Hope's Peak symbol flanked a hand-carved mahogany desk at the back of the room. A matching pair of long leather couches in the center of the room surrounded a low coffee table. Behind one was a shelf of thick books, packed cleanly and precisely, unlike the messy library. Behind the other was a glass case of gleaming trophies, medals, and ornaments, none of which were silver or bronze.

Except for the trophy case, nothing here seemed like it belonged in a school. Like with the headmaster's dorm, the atmosphere here was too rigid, professional, and unmistakably adult. And the obvious expense of the furniture, the couches in particular, implied that this room wasn't meant to really be part of the school.

This whole place just screams 'I'm more important than you.' Nothing about it is understated or subtle, but none of it was placed here just to show off…

It was all a necessary bluntness, where every object served a true purpose, and it seemed all the mightier for it. In a strange way, it reminded Mukuro of Sakura, though it was also bereft of her wisdom and kindness.

There were kings and politicians whose spaces told of less power. Given the global importance of this school, though, that made some sense. That photo had made Kirigiri look like such a boring, unimpressive man, but sitting on the couch across from him must have been the most intimidating thing in the universe.

Leon's harsh voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Hey, Mukuro!" he screamed. "What the hell's going on?!"

"Uh, nothing!" she yelled back. "It's safe! Monokuma's not here."

Hina bounded through the doorway first. She pumped a fist as soon as she entered the room, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was super worried!" she moaned. "Maybe something really did happen to Junko!"

My sister, just happening to die randomly? We could never be so lucky…

But one thing did stand out to Mukuro: that it was easy to think of Junko as the sister, and herself as Mukuro, for certain. Junko probably didn't hug blunt weapons to her chest and dream about fighting armies…

Probably.

The rest of the students filed in shortly afterward. Everyone's jaws dropped as they surveyed the scene and took in the power and luxury of the room, save Kyoko and Byakuya. The former scanned everything impassively, but the way she tightened and retightened her left glove, and how she just barely bit down on her lower lip, told a much different story. The latter just looked disappointed.

"Hmph," The heir stroked the arm of one of the couches. "A little more pedestrian than I expected. Mukuro! Have you touched anything besides the doors?"

"No! Everything's exactly how I found it, I swear."

He smirked.

"I suppose you probably haven't had enough time to swipe anything… Just to be extra safe, though, why don't you turn out your pockets?"

"Argh!" Hina shot him a merciless, hateful glare. "You don't—"

Mukuro obeyed instantly, turning out each of her pockets in turn, and pulling off her track jacket to show that nothing could be hidden inside. When she finished, Byakuya stepped away without a word. He didn't even acknowledge that she'd proven herself.

"That guy…" Hina muttered. "He's totally got the most slappable face on Earth."

It was hard not to agree.

The last student to join them was Sayaka, whose arms hung limply at her sides as she wandered inside, rather than entering with purpose. She gasped, and half-walked, half-fell in the direction of the trophy case. Her eyes caught on a gleaming golden sword inside. Only just now did Mukuro realize that it was identical to the one Leon had wielded in self-defense that night. Sayaka's eyes widened and locked on the weapon, and she never looked away.

Kyoko tapped the back of her hand against her chin and glided over the bookcase, quickly dismissing everything inside as irrelevant. She did a good job of hiding it, but not good enough, and Mukuro could easily see the emotions behind her violet eyes. Her feelings on her father were obviously complicated, and this was the first time she'd seen evidence besides the photo of what his life had been like.

Mukuro's stomach churned. Which was worse: knowing that your hated family member was dead, or knowing that your hated family member was trying to kill you?

Hiro stumbled onto the desk, threw open a drawer at random, and laughed.

"Haha! Detective Yasuhiro Hagakure, on the case!" He dipped his hand inside, and pulled out a long metal key. Its handle was shaped like Monokuma's head. "Oh, man! I bet this opens up something important!"

"Give me that, you idiot," Byakuya snapped. He grabbed it out of Hiro's hands, examined it for a few seconds, and threw it to Toko. She stumbled back and yelped in surprise – but, impressively, she actually did catch it against her chest. "Toko! Hiro!"

"Y—Yes, Master B—Byakuya?"

"Uh, yeah, Byakuya?"

"I have things to do here. Both of you, go test that key at the data processing center."

Toko cradled the gross little object like a treasured gift given to her by her would-be lover, and smiled up at him in awe. She might have even drooled a little. Hiro, though, just looked annoyed.

"What? Why us?"

"Because two people need to do it to keep an eye on each other, and you two are useless. Surely you know how to use a key, right? So, get to it."

"O—Okay!"

"Bleh… Fine."

The two of them disappeared. Meanwhile, he and Kyoko rummaged through the desk. They pulled out dozens of important-looking documents, and each sank into thought.

Mukuro sighed, and leaned against the wall. She could tell they'd be at this for a while. She flourished the pipe in one hand, spinning it around on an outstretched finger. Her eyes locked on Sayaka's back.

She wasn't alone. In the corner of her vision, Mukuro noted a certain Ultimate Gambler also taking a careful watch over the idol, though much more subtly. Celeste stood in the corner of the room farthest from her, daintily folding and refolding her hands, pretending to look over everything – but Mukuro could tell.

She's no fool. She probably knows something's wrong with Sayaka, even though she can't guess the extent…

Mukuro slid over to Byakuya. She licked her lips, then quietly whispered:

"Um… Byakuya?"

"Yes?" He responded without directly looking at her, and he seemed annoyed just to speak with her.

"I think there's something seriously wrong with Sayaka. I didn't tell the others yet, and I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I've seen her doing some weird things, and I thought I'd warn you because… I don't know, you're kind of the leader."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Did you only just notice?" he chuckled. "And here I took you for one of the smarter ones."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that I'm well aware of what Sayaka is like, even if I don't know exactly what you've seen her do."

He didn't elaborate further, and Mukuro didn't know what else to say. She grunted a weak affirmation, more for herself than for him, and retreated back to where she'd stood before, near Celeste and Leon. The latter of them crossed his arms and looked down at her pipe. He wasn't scared, but he did seem unsettled.

"How are you doing, Leon?" she asked, as kindly and unthreateningly as she could.

He shook his head.

"Guess I'm alright." He smirked. "I guess it figures we'd have to release you sooner or later."

"How's that?"

"Ain't it obvious?" His eyes narrowed suddenly, and he laughed. "Or maybe it's not, not to someone like you."

Mukuro made a face.

"I really don't understand what you're getting at."

"Ha! Mukuro, I feel like I'm a goddamned extra in somebody else's story. Byakuya's, Kyoko's, or yours. The smart people and the sister. You know what that's like? The rest of us are just trying to ride things out to the end."

Mukuro grimaced. That was yet another perspective she'd never considered. When she was tied up, the whole world reformed around her helplessness… But most of the others were helpless from the start, and helpless even now.

Her eyes darted across the room. Leon's assessment was almost certainly correct: if there was any hope of people escaping this death game alive, it lay with either Kyoko's and Byakuya's intelligence, or her own dark connection to Junko. For all Mukuro's fault and pain, irrelevance was one feeling she'd never experienced.

She turned back to Leon to deny it, even knowing that her words would be a lie, when three more people stepped into the room. Taka, Hiro, and Toko rejoined them – and the first of them still carried Kyoko's pink camera in his left hand.

"Byakuya!" he shouted, for no discernable reason. "I see the door plan worked… We shall apologize to the relevant school authorities later. In any case, I finished with—"

"Good," Byakuya said. He didn't look up from the documents he'd pulled from the drawers. "Toko?"

"Th—The key didn't w—work, Master Byakuya… S—Sorry! Blame M—Mukuro…"

"Yeah, it was completely useless," Hiro added. "The key for that door is, like, a completely different type. This one didn't even slide into the hole or anything."

"Interesting…" Byakuya nodded, but still didn't bother looking up. "Toko, Hiro, go test the key."

"What?" Hiro blinked. "Where?"

"Everywhere, obviously, until we know what it goes to. Start with the ground floor dorms."

"What?! That'll take forever, man!"

"Then you should get started right away, shouldn't you?"

Toko grabbed Hiro by the coat, and the two departed, one happily and with purpose, and the other reluctantly and grumbling.

"So, Byakuya, Kyoko," Celeste mused. "Is there anything else interesting in that desk?"

"Yes." Kyoko said, instantly. "The student profiles."

Mukuro snapped to attention.

"You mean, our profiles from when we were at school?"

"I do." She busily studied a single white sheet of paper. Her eyes moved almost too fast to keep up with. Nearby, there was a small stack of similar papers. Each looked identical in format to the profile in Mukuro's dorm, with one exception: there were no attached photographs. "I already checked. It's everyone except Mukuro and Makoto."

"Those are the profiles other students already found earlier!" Taka said.

"These have all of the vital information, brief histories, and information on Ultimate talents of the students here… assuming Monokuma's claim that school documents are always accurate is true."

"Hmmm," Celeste cooed. "I believe he said something more similar to 'they're always accurate, unless another student altered them.'"

"But no one could get in here until Mukuro busted down the doors," Leon said. "So, they've gotta all be right."

"Is that a fact?" Byakuya chuckled. "Alright, then. Kyoko! What's your Ultimate talent?"

"… Detective." she said, unceremoniously.

She acted like it was the least important thing in the world, but it was easy to tell, even for the others, that this was a huge weight off her shoulders. Hina in particular smiled warmly, and seemed about to say something to help Kyoko in this great moment, only to be rudely interrupted.

"Fucking Junko!" Leon scoffed. "Making a murder mystery killing game, then throwing a goddamned detective into it."

"Indeed," Taka nodded along. "Even by her twisted logic, that clearly violates the spirit of a killing game in which everyone has a chance at victory."

Does it?

Mukuro stared deeply at Kyoko, who seemed not to notice. The other girl emotionlessly read, and probably reread, the document detailing her history and place in the academy, until finally folding it twice and slipping it into her jacket.

It makes sense for Junko to specially erase my memories, beyond what everyone else experienced – or else, for Mukuro to erase Junko's memories, the way she described. Either way, it was to make me feel more despair. But Kyoko had something similar done to her…

Mukuro swallowed. Two plausible explanations leapt out at her. One, that a detective in a murder-solving game, and in particular a game where Junko had to conceal things from the students, was a threat, and had to be given a handicap. Two, that Kyoko was perhaps lying about her memories, or else also wanted to experience more despair, and that would certainly mean she was also Junko's flunky.

She shivered, and told herself that there was no actual evidence for that… But someone had to be working for Junko.

Mukuro maneuvered through the room until she was almost at the profiles. There was only one piece of information she wanted, and it would be on Junko's page. Thankfully, her sister's (or her own) profile was the topmost one.

Name: Junko Enoshima, Sex: Female, Height: 5'7", Weight: 99 lbs., Blood Type: AB, Birthdate: December 24, Chest Size: 90cm—

Byakuya quickly grabbed all of the profiles, shooting her a dirty look as he did. But Mukuro didn't care; she'd already gotten what she wanted out of them.

90 centimeters, huh? She faced the wall away from the others and subtly looked down to her own chest. That's definitely not me…

She snorted. There were ways to explain that, of course, but it was more evidence in her favor. And another thing stood out to her:

My profile said 97 pounds, hers says 99… Maybe next time, I should call her fat.

She smiled without meaning to. That would upset Junko for sure! … Probably.

"There's something else," Kyoko said. "Those student profiles didn't have any dust on them."

"So what?" Hina asked.

"This whole room is dusty," Mukuro explained, kindly. "That means the profiles were left here recently, or disturbed recently."

"More importantly," Byakuya interrupted. "These profiles are missing the photographs."

"Oh, yeah!" Hina crossed her arms and thought. "I'm one-million-percent sure that Mukuro's has a picture paperclipped to it, right?"

"Right," Mukuro agreed. "And Makoto's did, too, although I didn't see it too closely."

Leon hummed.

"Then… Either all the other photos got removed, or they never had photos to start with."

Surprisingly, Byakuya didn't disagree with Leon's assessment. He watched Mukuro for a long while, clearly unsettled and unhappy about something, but he didn't elaborate on what.

"It doesn't take a genius to understand Junko's game, here!" Taka bellowed. "Obviously, she removed her photograph so we couldn't tell which of the sisters we actually have with us right now!"

"No," Kyoko said, quietly. "If that was the case, then she wouldn't have left Mukuro's photo, or Makoto's, for us to see, and she wouldn't have needed to take all of the others."

"Um!" Hina raised a hand. "Doesn't that also break the rule about Monokuma not messing with the stuff we find?"

"Perhaps not," Byakuya said. "We've been using the names 'Monokuma' and 'Junko' interchangeably, but it would be to her benefit to draw a distinction no one else cares about. It would violate the rules if the robot bear removed the photographs, but he gave Mukuro's and Makoto's files out, as-is. But, if Junko considered herself, the human being, to also be a player in the game, and therefore a valid target for murder, she could have removed all of the other pictures with her own two hands."

"Tragically, I believe all of this speculation is useless," Celeste giggled. A second later, she grew unusually intense, and leaned over to face the center of the group. "Unless Junko is here, and wishes to explain how she's bent the rules?"

No one responded, of course. At last, Byakuya tapped his foot on the floor.

"Enough… We've examined what's in here." He stole the remaining files without offering the others to check on theirs, and stashed them under his arm. "Mukuro, I believe you told us you had an idea for how to break through the data processing center's steel door?"

"Oh, yeah." She smiled, and tried not to make her excitement too obvious. Nevertheless, her voice still squealed with girlish excitement. "You're gonna love it."

(Scene)

Mukuro tossed the pipe spinning into the air. A second later, her foot connected with its end, and it rocketed away with exactly the same power and killing force she'd used to almost kill Sakura and Hiro. It sailed off into the distance almost too fast to see. She grinned. Her skin was tingling. She couldn't even see precisely where the pipe went, but she already knew she'd nailed the shot.

This time, that power is mine to control.

The others huddled behind her, close to the second-floor stairwell. She didn't look back, but she could tell that Hiro and Leon winced from the memory in the gym.

They heard, rather than saw, the pipe connect with something metal. There was a distant electrical noise, and then something metal and extremely heavy dropped from the ceiling to the floor. A resounding thud echoed into Hope's Peak, loud enough that it was probably audible from the dorms. The others all gasped or cried out when they heard it, save the usual three.

Mukuro ran to the pool's changing room area without waiting for the others. Her feet clomp clomp clomped on the floor like a horse's, and her heart was pounding out of her chest. She couldn't wait to see it. Times like these, despair didn't even enter the equation.

There he was: 470 pounds of pure, beautiful gatling gun. Gleaming steel body, six smooth black barrels, and a belt of a few dozen 7.8mm bullets, each the length of a human forearm. With the body and barrels combined, he was taller than any of the girls. He had a big dent where he'd hit the floor, but that was okay. Most warriors, with Mukuro excepted, had at least one or two scars. Now that he was freed from his chains on the ceiling, as well as the wiring that connected him to some invisible computer, he waited, still and gorgeous, for a new master to claim him.

Mukuro was drooling. She'd already given him a name, of course. She kneeled down by Makoto and cradled him for a few seconds.

By the time the others arrived, she'd let go of him, and was pretending just to inspect the pipe lodged into the wall above the boy's changing room door.

"It's in working condition," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "Though, it only has as many bullets as were already fed into the belt. I'm counting fifty-eight."

She craned her neck and looked back. Several of the others, particularly Celeste, looked uncomfortable with her so close to an actual firearm, especially one of this caliber.

This is the kind of thing that can kill a literal tank.

Mukuro was still tingly inside. She was almost certain that back when she'd worked for Junko, she'd been the one to pick this weapon out, that she'd been the one to hang him up on the ceiling. There was even a pretty good chance that she'd given him the same name the first time, although she would never have told anyone.

Best of all, best of all, this was very strong evidence of her identity. The way she'd kicked that pipe and severed the connection between the gun and the ceiling, the way she obliterated that door, the way she dodged the shrapnel… Sure, it could all technically have technically been a set-up, but there were so many elements you'd have to consider. This was almost inarguable.

Fuck Junko! screamed her heart.

The memories of what Junko had shown her on the monitor still gnawed at her, of course, but she ignored them. Yes, the Mukuro of the past was an unforgivable monster, but…

She needed this moment, dammit.

The others had to see it, too. It was all she could do not to smile down at Leon, Celeste, and Byakuya with a huge shit-eating grin. She could tell they were thinking the same thing; their eyes showed a mixture of relief that she was who she'd always claimed to be and slight fear at how ridiculously deadly she obviously was. Mukuro managed to be modest only by the knowledge that playing things this way was probably better for diplomacy. No matter what Junko claimed, she—

"Ha!" Hina jumped up and laughed in Byakuya's ear. "I knew she was really Mukuro! No normal person could have done that, only someone super good at fighting! You guys were all super dumb!"

"It's fine, Hina!" Mukuro stood up suddenly, held out her hands in a conciliatory motion, and smiled anxiously. "It's fine, it's fine. What matters is that we have a way to bust down the steel door now."

Byakuya had watched the scene play out with an intense, silent interest. Everyone else was in awe of the gun, but his eyes alone trained on Mukuro, and she found herself biting the inside of her cheek.

What's he thinking right now?

(Scene)

Mukuro was strong, but she wasn't superhuman. She wasn't a Sakura, and she wasn't going to deadlift that absurd gun by herself. It took two dollies from the warehouse, several ropes, and a group effort from Hina, Leon, Taka, and Mukuro herself just to get Makoto to the staircase.

Hauling him two floors up was a nightmare. His weight wasn't evenly distributed, which left Mukuro and Leon, who had to lift up the body and step up the stairs backward, in an intensely awkward position. It didn't help that Mukuro herself was doing half the work of the group just on her own.

Stupid fighter jets being able to just mount stuff on their stupid wings…

That process took over ten minutes of grunting and misery. By the end, even Mukuro was out of breath. Byakuya, who'd done nothing to help, just leaned against a wall and looked at each of them in turn, not bothering to hide his condescension.

Because we're weak? … Or because we have to do physical labor stuff?

It was best not to ask. Instead, Mukuro led the way to the data processing room. They stacked a pile of strong metal boxes stolen from the warehouse, slowly and carefully lifted Makoto on top of it, and swiveled him until he aimed right at the unbreakable steel door that protected…

Something.

She glanced to her left. Just as before, the others all stood behind another corner in the hallway, save Toko and Hiro, who were busy elsewhere. Anxious eyes watched her carefully, either worried about the gun, or about what she would use it for.

Mukuro gave them a thumbs up, and they all ducked behind the bend. Now alone, she gleefully lifted a pair of metal earmuffs (again taken from the warehouse) over her head, the same kind all of them would also be putting on right about now. They had distance, but the enclosed hallway environment of Hope's Peak would function like an echo chamber. Without these things, everyone's eardrums would be destroyed.

She grinned like an idiot.

Even the sound of a gun like this is a form of attack!

Just at that moment, something caught her eye.

Mukuro puffed out her cheek and stepped over to the door. Underneath it, right where it met the floor, she saw…

Orange dust.

She kneeled down pressed her face as close to it as possible, though she was careful not to disturb it. Sure enough, this was orange dust, the type spread all over your fingers and desk when eating certain types of junk food chips, the kind that usually ended in '-to.' But this dust was spread out in a mostly even line across the entire door.

It was hard to see from a distance, but now that she'd noticed it, it was impossible not to see how weird and unnatural it was. The line was too evenly-spread, too precisely measured, and it was almost perfectly dense from one side of the doorway to the other. Yes, there were a billion bags of chips in the warehouse that could have formed it, but even if you stepped through the door while chomping down like a maniac, with no regard for where the dust might land (which seemed unlikely for both an Ultimate Fashionista and an Ultimate Soldier), there was no way you'd ever accidentally get the same amount of dust in the corners as you did in the center. And when she looked up to the doorknob, it was immaculate.

If you were eating something messy like this and got it all over the place, and didn't bother cleaning it up, then you'd have also messed up the doorknob, right?

Mukuro sucked in her lips.

Do I tell the others about this?

The dust was strange, but it didn't seem immediately dangerous. Besides, she was already on thin ice, and she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she just really wanted to use that fucking gun.

She stepped back to Makoto and pushed the dust out of her mind. Her right hand guided itself to his trigger. She wasn't even looking at him. Her other hand took a position on top, steadying her aim. It all happened by intuition.

How many times have I fired something like this in the past?

Mukuro pulled the trigger, and a shower of red-hot bullets flew through the air. She was certain she heard someone screaming from far away, but she didn't even flinch.

Chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka

The sound was agony, even through the earmuffs. The recoil would have torn her arm apart but for the boxes' stability. The smell and taste of gunpowder was thick in the air, and her mouth watered. It was better than food, better than breathing, better than anything she could have dreamed of.

Chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka

Her lips curled up into a broad, toothy smile, and her eyes rolled back into their sockets in ecstasy. All those thoughts of helplessness before Junko's grand designs drifted away. It wasn't even that holding this gun made Mukuro feel powerful, although it did. Holding this gun felt like the most natural thing in the world. How had humans lived before gatling guns? It must have been like living without food or water or air. It must have been that every person to ever exist before the 1860s had felt a gaping hole of despair inside, and never known how to fill it.

Chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka

The heavy steel door that guarded the killing game's secrets didn't stand a chance. The bullets tore holes the size of two fingers, and the metal around them warped and broke and was rent apart. Mukuro spied the dim blue light of computer monitors through them, but she didn't care when some of that light went out, when the bullets flew through the room and destroyed the valuable equipment inside. Hole upon hole formed in the surface, until the door was halfway buckled just from the force of the bullets alone. The hinges didn't even explode like the other door's had; instead, they were simply obliterated. Nothing was left of them except dust, and maybe not even that.

Chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka

There wasn't even enough door left to actually stop them now. Most of it was gone, and what remained was shredded beyond recognition. The upper half in particular was barely hanging on to the lower. Anyone in Hope's Peak, except maybe Sakura and Hifumi, could have easily crawled through by now.

Chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka-chunka

She didn't stop. There was more door to kill.

At last, the barrels started click-click-clicking. No more bullets flew. Mukuro could still hear Makoto firing, but it was hard to tell the memory apart from the real thing.

She released her finger on the trigger. The barrels spun slower and slower, until they finally came fully to a halt. Without thinking, she stroked one, and it felt like touching a burning stove.

She grinned again, and kept her tattooed hand on it for seconds. It never cooled down. Without thinking, and for no reason, she pressed her palm to it for as long as she could, playing a game of chicken with the heat she knew that not even she could ever win.

At last, she lost the game to Makoto and pulled away, blowing on her reddened palm. By coincidence, what remained of the door collapsed to the floor.

You couldn't have even sold that thing as scrap metal.

Through the doorway, Mukuro saw rows of desks, and beyond them, an entire wall of security monitors. The vast majority were destroyed, some spraying dangerous electrical sparks across the room, some actively on fire, and others were simply dead, but enough of them still functioned to guess that they watched every inch of the school, save the bathhouse and bathrooms. This was the ultimate destination of what the ceiling cameras watched. Even now, Mukuro could see images of the cafeteria, of the pool, and of the hallway just to her left. She saw the little figures that were her classmates, covering their ears and groaning. Taka's face was fully white, and he seemed to be shouting even louder than usual. Celeste kneeled by the wall and pressed her pigtails over her temples. Hina lay on the floor, rolling around in pain. Byakuya pushed a hand onto the wall to steady himself, and looked like he was in agony. Even Kyoko's stoic demeanor was shattered, as she winced and massaged her ears.

Even with the earmuffs, eh?

No one else could see her, so Mukuro let herself smile at how they were all such wusses. The only ones who'd kept themselves standing were Leon and Sayaka, the two trained to handle terrible, obnoxious music equal in volume to that of a literal war machine.

Mukuro pulled her hands to her hips and beamed. The melody of that gun was a million times more beautiful than their singing would ever be.

Still elated, she entered the room. Her shoes clicked against hard metal tiles. Guided by her instincts, Mukuro glanced down and saw little circular green lights embedded in the floor. She stepped around them without thinking, marking them as potential threats, though what possible purpose they might serve, she couldn't begin to guess.

Rows and rows of glowing computer monitors were everywhere, piled on desks or hung onto the wall. Most were destroyed, but the survivors told the story of Hope's Peak. Right now, Mukuro could see Toko and Hiro running around the dorm hallway, testing the mystery key on Chihiro's room. And even here, in this room, there was still another camera hanging from the ceiling.

Between the ocean of computers, the dim lights, the ubiquitous blue glow, and the black floor, this room felt like it was from the future. It could have been lifted directly out of some spaceship movie. The only thing that gave away this wasn't a film set were the bullet holes covering the entire back wall of the room. Mukuro didn't need to count; she knew there were fifty-eight exactly.

There was another door besides the one she'd entered from: a tall steel one with Monokuma painted on its surface. It was built into the far wall, surrounded by countless destroyed security monitors – and yet, this door itself was still unharmed. Mukuro tested its surface with her hand, and discovered that it, too, was made of thick steel. She'd never break through it without another Makoto.

Mukuro sucked in a quick breath. Maybe wasting all of those bullets on the first door hadn't been the best idea ever. Annoyed at herself, she walked back to the hallway, shook her head, and made for the others.

Hopefully, they don't get too upset at me for that blunder…

She rounded the corner. Hina vaulted onto her and hugged her as tightly as she could, and the two almost went hurtling to the floor. The others were still removing their earmuffs.

"That was the scariest thing ever!" she cried. "Is everything alright?!"

"Yeah…" Mukuro looked up to Byakuya and Kyoko. "Um… The door's completely busted. But there's another, similar door inside, and it looks even more important."

"Figures," Leon moaned. "There's always gonna be something."

Mukuro chuckled.

Maybe, but at least this time it's not something Junko planned out.

Sayaka stood in the back of the group, smiling airily. Mukuro knew somehow that the idol had thought the same thing.

"Very well, then," Celeste said. She gently brushed off some dust on her sleeve with the back of her other hand. She'd composed herself almost back to normal, but it was obvious that she was still a little shaken by the gunfire. "Shall we examine the room?"

Without waiting for a response, the gothic girl stepped around the soldier and made for the data center. The others followed one-by-one. Mukuro and Hina were just behind her.

Mukuro slowed down as they passed Makoto. She still felt like she was on cloud nine. Hina laughed, pat her on the back, and joined the others as they entered the room. Distantly, Mukuro heard awestruck gasping. She stayed behind to check out the gun, which was only just now beginning to cool.

Can I persuade the others to let me keep him? Without bullets, he can't hurt anyone anymore…

She patted the dent from where he'd hit the floor again. There wasn't a single thing about Makoto she didn't adore. Even if they got out of here tomorrow, she'd want to bring him with her.

She sighed, content for what felt like the first time in her entire life.

Click

"What the—"

Mukuro spun around, raised her fists, and saw Celeste step onto one of the tiles she'd avoided without even thinking. Hina stood right behind her, and tried to say something, but never got the words out.

A hand-sized section of the ceiling opened up, and something bright and green flashed out of it. Time stopped.

The Ultimate Soldier leapt forward without even thinking. A green dart shot at her, but she craned her head and let it whiz by her ear. Another one came straight for her heart, and she batted it away with the back of her hand. A third zipped toward Sayaka, who haplessly stood right in its way. Mukuro barreled into her and sent her careening to the floor, scuffed-up but alright. A fourth one aimed at a wide-eyed Taka, so she just kicked him in the gut and sent him flying over a desk and away to safety. It all happened in the space of a second.

But then two more darts launched, and even Mukuro wasn't fast enough. They struck Hina's chest and Celeste's arm, and then the trap fell silent.

For a second, nothing happened.

And then, without a word, without an expression, without an indication that anything had happened at all, both girls just fell to the floor. Their eyes were pure white, and neither one was breathing.