Mukuro carefully bent over the bathhouse changing room bench, laying down the helpless form of the blue-haired idol as gently as she could. The room was humid and very warm, but that wasn't why they were both sweating.
Only the heavens knew what roiled through Sayaka's unconscious mind right now, but her body was shaking, and her eyelids twitched and furrowed like she was having a nightmare. Every so often, her lips offered up a low, whimpering hum.
Mukuro heard a louder commotion from outside the room. She turned just in time to see everyone else enter, most of them cautiously hovering around a certain Ultimate Detective.
Kyoko's eyes were glazed over, and she made a good attempt at seeming unfeeling and neutral… but Mukuro could see that she was afraid. Not just afraid, but wracked by other emotions, too. Could all of the others, or was it obvious only to her? She didn't dare to ask if the thinned lips and fake composure fooled Hiro or Leon. Byakuya surely guessed.
Someone, Mukuro didn't know whom, had given Kyoko a long stick to tap against the floor. But she was too proud to actually rely upon it, and she carried it, rather than held it properly, in one hand. Instead, she made her way toward the other bench from memory, dragging her feet along the floor in front of her body in a strange, almost loping motion. Mukuro startled, realizing that her friend's strange kicking motion was meant to feel for anything blocking her way. Seconds passed, and her foot made contact with the legs of the wooden bench. Trembling just slightly, Kyoko reached down, felt its smooth surface for a few seconds, and set herself and the stick on top of it with all the certainty she could manage. She was still a hundred times calmer than anyone else would have been.
It had to be by chance, but Kyoko's eyes passed over Mukuro's for a split second. The latter girl swallowed nervously. Despite the blistering heat of the bathhouse, her sweat grew colder.
Those cool, purple eyes had always seemed so intense, so purposeful… Now they were just glazed over, like glass or plastic, a mere facsimile of what they'd once been.
The focus that had always guided Kyoko's actions was still there, but it was subtler now, observable only in her movements and expressions. Even now, Mukuro saw it faltering.
Please, let whatever she learned be worth the price…
But she cursed herself for even thinking such a thing. This was all by her sister's design, of course. Junko (hopefully Junko) had even told her that this was all in the service of another murder. Vaguely, Mukuro recalled something about a European mythology, where someone traded sight for knowledge. Or maybe it was a common thing in many mythologies? She wasn't sure, but she knew she didn't like this result.
Kyoko had always seemed like one of the hardest possible targets for a murder…
She sucked in her lips as she watched her closest remaining friend fumble over the edge of the bench. Did she see only blackness? Or was even the concept of colors denied to her, and all she had to guide herself was a nothingness that defied sighted explanation?
All throughout, no one had said a word. Mukuro wasn't the only person uncomfortable with the scene. Toko chewed on her thumb and looked Kyoko over again and again in disbelief, Hiro and Leon were openly unsettled, and had no idea what to say, and Taka paced back and forth, pushing a hand onto his still-injured chest, trying to come to grips with what was happening. Only Byakuya seemed undisturbed.
Mukuro sighed. Her heart felt so faint. Without Hina here, there was no positive energy left in the group, only a gross malaise. It permeated the air just like the heat, the idea that this was all ultimately hopeless, that their enemy wasn't just a young woman, but rather the unassailable concept of despair itself.
Even a soldier can't kill an emotion…
It was the subject that no one had dared to broach, not even Kyoko and Byakuya: even if they struck down Junko, nothing was waiting for them, and no one had any idea what to do afterwards. And with every step forward they took, they lost something or someone.
Never before had Hina been so desperately needed. In her absence, it would have helped for someone else to step up, for someone else to announce something happy and bright and—
"So," Byakuya said, standing at the end of Kyoko's table. His voice was cold and dead even. "Talk."
The chance was lost. Mukuro settled for patting Sayaka's unconscious hand. That was probably something Hina would have done in that situation.
Kyoko closed her eyes for a while. Was she trying to comport herself, or was she just searching her memories? It was impossible to tell.
"It's all true." said the detective. This time, even her voice cracked. "Everything."
"Everything?" Hiro repeated.
"Our two years at Hope's Peak. Everyone being friends. Happy school memories. The world being destroyed. Presumably, Junko being behind everything." Her voice trailed off into a squeak, and she bit down on her lip. It was so uncharacteristic of her that Mukuro thought she might have misseen it at first. "I can't…"
"Can't what?" Mukuro asked. Without meaning to, her fingers locked with Sayaka's.
Aside from her being too proud to accept anyone's help in walking around, Kyoko acted less and less like herself by the minute. Mukuro balked when she realized there were the beginnings of tears in the detective's eyes.
When she spoke again, Kyoko's voice was thick with anguish. Her eyes stared off blankly into a wall.
"It's hard… To everyone else, we've only known each other for a few days… But I have all these memories. As if we were all close friends, or at least as close as we could get." She shivered, despite the heat, and raised a hand to cover her mouth. Her hand, made warm by the gloves and the air, was shaking. After a while, she continued. "It's like I've known you all my life, and I look back on an hour ago, where I kept everyone at arm's length, and can't understand my own actions…"
"Y—You're acting really w—weird!" Toko stammered, hiding behind a counter in the back of the room. "N—Not like yourself!"
The others noticed, too.
Mukuro quickly scanned the room. It was obvious that everyone agreed with the cowering girl. The detective nodded, ruefully. A second later, she sat up straighter. The old Kyoko – new Kyoko? – shone more clearly.
"Yes," she admitted. "I… Maybe I did change, a little, in two years. I can't…" Her voice cracked again, and she looked away – though that had to be a reflex. "Five of us are dead."
The words struck the group like a slap across the face. Kyoko had so casually counted that biker guy among their number – he'd died so quickly, Mukuro could barely even remember his name, but he obviously carried an equal importance to her.
"Tell us!" Taka demanded, making a fist she surely couldn't see. "Tell us about what was taken from us!"
And so, she did.
(Scene)
Hiro taking Sayaka's joke about psychic powers too seriously, and his vain attempts to profit off of her.
Makoto serving as the central heart of the group, the bastion of normality among their own extreme personalities.
The strange relationship between Hifumi and Celeste.
The declaration of eternal broship between Taka, Mondo, Leon, and one other person Kyoko omitted mentioning.
Prideful Byakuya slowly coming to insult everyone less often.
Toko none-too-subtly sliding her desk ever-so-closer to his day after day.
The Tragedy of Hope's Peak, and the killing game between the Student Council, that ended with only one survivor, and the ensuing unsuccessful coverup by the school.
The mass suicide by the Reserve Course, that ended with all but one member of the talentless portion of the school dead.
The Mahjong game between Celeste, Makoto, another Lucky student, and Jin Kirigiri, and the lack of a clear winner.
The time Leon replaced all of Taka's uniforms with casual street clothes as a joke, and how Taka spent all night sewing them into an almost perfect replica of his real uniform.
The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History, which was exactly as Genocide Jack had described.
An epic battle between Sakura and the Ultimate Swordswoman, that began as a sparring match and ended with half the first floor in ruins and both of them suspended.
The time Hina somehow found a ring-shaped blade, and used it to cut out the center of a pizza to make it more donut-shaped.
The time Despair followers somehow replaced Mt. Rushmore with Monokuma heads.
The first time Toko let herself smile around the others.
Celeste finally letting down her guard and admitting her true name.
The fall of the Togami Family, and how Byakuya was almost certainly the last survivor.
The time Hifumi ate some ramen, and Hiro's bizarre prediction that the cup would end up on Kyoko's head, so she threw it into the trash underneath the school just to be certain it wouldn't.
The uncountable dead, the poisoned air just outside of the school, and the unending despair of the rest of the world that pressed in on all sides.
Kyoko started slowly, but after the first three or four stories, it all came out of her almost too fast to keep up with, like a dam bursting and a powerful river of memories spewing out, unconstrained. She spoke twice as much on that bench as she had during the entire rest of the killing game combined.
Strangely, she showed more emotion at her lost happy days at school than the Tragedy or the hopelessness of their situation. The first she described in perfect detail, lingering on the silly moments that bound them all together. The second, for all their horror, she described in her standard sterile, clinical fashion. Whenever she spoke of school or her friends, especially Makoto, her guarded poise relaxed, even collapsed, and her body language screamed of her unconscious trust in all of her friends.
This was still Kyoko, but it was an older, wiser Kyoko, with her cold edges blunted by treasured friendships and her own misconceptions wiled away. This was a Kyoko who found it unbearable to be almost a stranger to the people she clearly cared for, and who struggled to keep up a façade of coldness, now paradoxically for their sake instead of her own.
Kyoko, restored to the way she should have been all along, loved everyone around her…
… except one person.
Not a single one of her stories included either of the Despair Sisters, even when she spoke about the class as a whole. No one else brought them up, either – everyone's attention was too rapt upon her tales of the past, even Byakuya's, to think of it. Somehow, she must have sensed or guessed where Mukuro was, and the only guard she still had up was focused in that direction. She was subtle about it, but Mukuro, for all her sister's taunting, wasn't an idiot. She could tell.
By the end, Taka and Leon were comforting each other, the latter's arm around the former's shoulder, their broship tearfully rekindled. Hiro raised a string of beads above his head and started mumbling a prayer to some unknown god, but he only got halfway through before he broke down, scowled, and stared at his feet. Toko bit down hard enough on her thumb to draw a trickle of blood, but she apparently didn't even notice. She eyed Kyoko suspiciously, caught between her cynicism that she could have ever grown to appreciate the people around her, and her desire to believe that Byakuya had eventually let her sit near him. The only person unmoved by the stories was Sayaka, and even then, her breathing had steadied, and her nightmares ceased.
Their leader, the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, studied the Kyoko for a long time, never responding. Was he suspicious of her? Or was he too torn up about the news of his family?
There remained, of course, one more issue that no one had addressed: the possibility that Kyoko was a spy for Junko. But that seemed infinitely remote, now, for the details that her stories contained seemed to satisfy everyone. Taka hadn't protested when she mentioned that he hated his grandfather, Hiro said nothing when she mentioned how his dorm room had a ley line in it, and Toko had only gasped in shock when she mentioned a pet stinkbug. It was all secret information only they could have known, unless they'd told her over the course of years. If the lavender-haired girl was working against them, she had at least genuinely been their friend in the past.
"What about me?"
The words slipped out of Mukuro's lips before she could stop them. They were so faint that even she could barely hear them, but the room silenced in an instant. The others suddenly realized who among them had been left out of Kyoko's stories… and Mukuro herself recognized the precarious position she was now in. Hina wasn't here anymore, so one wrong word from her only remaining friend, and everyone would certainly turn against her again.
"… You were there, too." Kyoko confirmed, coldly. "And your sister." She paused for a long time before continuing, and when she did, there was just enough venom in her words to steal away whatever strength Mukuro had left. "… I never suspected that either of you would work against us. It never crossed my mind even once. Even my father figured it out, but I… failed as the Ultimate Detective."
Every conscious pair of eyes turned to the cowering Mukuro on the floor. Kyoko sucked in her lips, then nodded.
"We didn't know you were sisters. You were a loner, even more than Byakuya, but we all still counted you as one of us. The only ones who could get you to come out were Junko and Makoto."
Mukuro sniffled. The world was blurry. She didn't realize she was crying.
"Junko, though, was always with everyone else."
Of course… Vibrant, beautiful, genius Junko… Manipulating everyone's trust…
"Wh—what about the first t—time?" Toko stumbled over her words, then her eyes darted over to Mukuro. "I—I mean, the f—first time Junko r—ran this game, and we tried to e—escape, and failed…"
"Yes." Kyoko confirmed. "We were basically correct about all of the details. Makoto regained his memories. Junko tried to kill Mukuro to get the game started, but he saved her. Mukuro turned against her sister, and tried to help us… Except, in the end, we failed to escape. We were all brainwashed again afterward. I suppose Mukuro was thrown in with the rest of us as punishment."
The air turned a little more sympathetic. Mukuro smiled, weakly, now that she'd been vindicated in this small way.
"Mondo…" Kyoko continued. "The first time around, I saved him from the Monokuma explosion. The second time, I stayed behind to help Mukuro, who was injured. If I'd gone to the gym for Monokuma's first announcement…" She shook her head. "I wonder if Junko expected me to go the gym again, and was as surprised as anyone else when he died?"
"I hate to interrupt this," Byakuya said, a little less snidely than usual. "But we need to address the important question." He adjusted his glasses, then pointed down at Mukuro. "Which sister is she? The Fashionista or the Soldier?"
Kyoko shook her head.
"I can't tell, without being able to see. I have a good memory for details, but I wasn't paying close attention to how 'our' Mukuro looks. If I could see her again, I could tell in an instant… but as it is, I'm not sure."
"Ha!" Hiro jabbed a finger at Mukuro's chest. "Then that's it! Then, Junko's the one who's running the game, and she wanted to keep the mystery going of who Mukuro is! She wanted to keep us unsure!"
"I don't know about that," Kyoko said. Now that she was back to the topic of mysteries, she'd returned to her normal 'character.' "There's a lot of strong, though not definitive, evidence that this is Mukuro. But even if we did learn that Junko was among us, I'm not sure what that would really change. Our goal of stopping the killing game would remain the same."
"I disagree!" Taka shook his head vigorously, then winced in pain from the injury where Mukuro had kicked him. "There must be a solid motive for our captor to turn you blind. She has to have a real reason, and the only logical one is that you regaining your memories would let you pierce any disguise in an instant. I do think we have Mukuro here, and Junko probably just wants to keep this strange game between them going."
"I got a better question," Leon said. He hefted himself up to sit on the counter near Toko, kicking the wood with the back of his foot. "I mean, all this is interesting and all, but it doesn't really put us closer to stopping Junko, or to… I don't even know if we're still trying to escape anymore."
"It's still the morning," Kyoko said. "Go."
"What?"
"Go outside. Do what you normally do. Keep not killing anyone. The best thing we can do right now is to stall the killing game and frustrate Junko."
"Interesting way of phrasing that," Byakuya raised an eyebrow. "It implies that we should go outside, while you stay in here."
Kyoko didn't deny it. Instead, she turned to Hiro (how did she even know where he was?) and said:
"Can you take Sayaka back to her room? I need to stay here and talk."
There's only one person she could possibly want to talk to… And only one reason why she'd have someone besides me take her.
Mukuro gulped.
"Aren't you scared?" Leon asked. "You know… Mukuro or not, you're blind, and—"
"I won't die here," Kyoko cut him off. The tone of her voice, which suddenly carried the weight of someone two years older than the teenagers around her, made argument impossible. "Everyone, just go."
Slowly, uncertainly, the others filed out of the room, Hiro carrying Sayaka's limp form in his arms. Byakuya was the last to leave, watching Kyoko for a long time with a stony, imperious glare. He never said a word.
Mukuro climbed onto the bench across from what now seemed like a woman, not a girl. Her face burned childishly. How was it that she could sit and look at a blind, helpless person holding a cane, and still feel like the weak, pathetic whelp?
"… Makoto, Chihiro, Mondo, Hifumi, and Sakura are dead because you chose to be a slave to your sister."
Kyoko said the words with total coldness, but they set Mukuro's throat on fire. She nodded twice, weakly, unable to deny the charge. It didn't matter that the other person in the room couldn't see the motion, because Mukuro certainly couldn't speak.
"And so's my father. And thousands of others. Maybe more than thousands."
Mukuro hiccupped. She couldn't even move her lips to form words.
"… Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
There was no defense. Mukuro said nothing, not that she could have even tried to. The tears grew worse, and soon she was as blind as Kyoko.
"… Was it truly that you were just in love with her? Or was it deeper than that?" The lavender-haired girl paused. "I suppose asking you directly, as you are, is pointless. You can't remember."
Some kind of weird grinding noise eked out of Mukuro's lips. Even she wasn't sure what she was trying to say.
Kyoko didn't respond. They sat there for a long time, one of them in blind silence, the other heaving and clutching at her chest.
After some minutes, the tears stemmed, and Mukuro regained enough of herself to wipe her face off. Kyoko must have guessed based on the sound, because she quickly asked:
"Were you really an Ultimate Despair at all?"
"… What do you mean?" the soldier squeaked.
"Something occurs to me… If you were really an Ultimate Despair that whole time, for two years or more, then you must have been in great psychological pain. I saw you almost every day for two years, even at a distance, and never suspected."
"You…" Mukuro sniffed. "You did with J—Junko, too…"
"We lost our memories," Kyoko responded, calmly. "But we all stayed the same people. The essence of what made us Leon, or Makoto, or Hina never changed, it just shifted as we grew older. What happened when you lost yours? You became this scared, despairing girl obsessed with your sister. I'm certain that Junko must have known that would happen."
"Y—Yeah…" Mukuro hiccupped again. "So what?"
"… When I told Byakuya that I would know in an instant if you were Junko, if only I could see you, I wasn't exaggerating. I know this because Junko pulled that trick on me once before."
"What?"
"There was a time when she brainwashed herself, dyed her hair, and tried to fool us… Makoto and I knew in an instant, because we simply know her face."
Mukuro's jaw dropped. Distantly, far in the back of her mind, some ancient memory sparked. She groaned suddenly, her brow twitching, as the faint image of her sister with red hair danced through her mind.
"I can't do that here," Kyoko continued, unaware of what went on in Mukuro's mind. "But from what I remember, even Junko's alter ego was still Junko, not a completely different person. You might fool yourself, but in the end, you're still you. And you don't feel to me like Junko did."
You can lose your memories, but you'll stay the same person…
The red-haired Junko twisted and laughed, and degenerated back into the cruel psychopath whom Mukuro had always loved. She shut her eyes, trying to dispel the image, but Junko Enoshima clung to the insides of her eyelids like glue.
"Mukuro isn't as good at lying to people as Junko," Kyoko said bluntly. "If you're Junko, then you must constantly be calculating how best to trick everyone and prey on our weaknesses."
"I'm not!" Mukuro said, truthfully.
"… And if you are being genuine with your feelings, and if the pain you seem to feel right now is true, then you must be Mukuro."
Mukuro braced her hands on her knees and rocked herself back and forth. There was a certain emotional sense to what Kyoko was saying, but it was all very abstract. Most of all, there remained that question:
Why even bother blinding Kyoko, if not to stop her from seeing that one of her friends here and now isn't the same person she knew for two years?
The only other conceivable explanation was to turn her into murder fodder, and that seemed a little too obvious a ploy by the mastermind…
But if the mastermind is really Mukuro, and she's not that smart, then…
Mukuro shook her head. Kyoko was offering her certainty. Why not take it?
Because she might be working for Jun—
"No one is working for Junko." Kyoko said, piercing her thoughts.
"W—what?"
"I've thought over the spy issue. I don't believe any of us can be working for her."
"How?"
"I know everyone too well, and I know that none of them would do this. But if you want a real reason… I already said why it can't be you, and I know I'm not a spy. Byakuya is too prideful to join his own captors. Hina and Taka could never be persuaded to act against their morals. Leon and Hiro are too stupid to keep up the charade for very long. Toko would refuse to do anything that endangers Byakuya, or would secretly tell him after agreeing. Genocide Jack is the same, but also unreliable and crazy. Sayaka's mental state makes her useless as a spy. By process of elimination, that only leaves Celeste. But there's nothing to blackmail Celeste with like there was with Sakura. Her most treasured family member is just a cat, and it's probably already dead. After learning the truth of the outside world, there's simply no possible reason for her to be willing to work with someone as unreliable as Junko."
There's also the issue that Celeste was one of the people who triggered Junko's trap – if you wanted a spy, you'd likely warn her of that in advance.
Mukuro nodded, sullenly. Everything Kyoko said made perfect, reasonable sense, except one thing:
'I know I'm not a spy.'
Was it possible? Was it possible for Kyoko to have some reason to betray the group that was so compelling, she'd still do it even regaining her memories?
"But, doesn't the evidence suggest that there's someone working against us?" Mukuro asked.
"Yes." Kyoko said instantly, tapping her chin. "I don't know what to make of it, except that Junko is somehow manipulating us."
Mukuro grunted. Even now, even after one of them regained their memories, there was still no certainty to be found in the world.
"… I also bear some responsibility for not seeing what was happening with Junko and you," Kyoko said. "I should have known that people can do stupid things when it involves their families."
Mukuro wiped her tears again with her wrist, smearing a wet stain across the thin fabric. Her cheeks were very red.
"Kyoko," she said. "Did you ever resolve things with your father?"
She wasn't sure why she asked. She wasn't even sure why she cared. Perhaps it was simply that she wanted to hear that conflict within a family, any family could be worked through. She didn't feel like Kyoko would ever answer something so personal. And yet…
"Yes." The Ultimate Detective closed her eyes. Mukuro didn't know if she was being honest or not. "We never completely reconnected, but I did… come to terms with his actions. I accepted living in this school with him, after all."
"Must be nice, to have a normal family…"
Kyoko offered one of her rare, sympathetic smiles.
"It's not too bad."
She stood up, holding the cane in one hand, rather than tapping it against the floor.
"I'm going, now."
"Where?"
"To search for more evidence, of course."
"What?!" Mukuro stood up like a rocket. "Then, I'm coming with you!"
"No. The others are already wary of you. You can't be alone with a blind girl."
"But—"
"Besides, you'll get in the way."
"You're blind!"
"Blind and helpless are two different things."
Barely.
But it was pointless. This was an older, wiser Kyoko, but like she said: it was still Kyoko Kirigiri, the girl too proud and calm to accept any help, except when she absolutely couldn't move forward without it.
"I'll find Hiro," Kyoko reassured her. "One by one, I'll probably try to reestablish what we lost…" She smiled again. "I wish Makoto had been the one in this position. He'd be much better at this."
That said, Kyoko made for the door, hesitantly holding one hand out in front of herself. When it connected with the doorframe (her aim had actually been almost spot-on), she swung herself through and exited, alone.
Fine, Mukuro scowled. Then I'll follow her, whether she wants me there or not.
She snuck out of the bathhouse, saw Kyoko stepping quickly toward the door to the school proper, and—
"Hold it."
She flipped on her heels. Someone tall and blond was standing behind her, arms crossed.
"Byakuya," she said. "Kyoko's being unreasonable. She wants to run off alone, and I—"
"It's fine." he said. "Let her. There's nothing that can hurt her. Seriously, anyway."
"I want to—"
"No."
"There's no reason for me not to go with her—"
Mukuro's eyes narrowed. Why did Byakuya even care about her following Kyoko, anyway?
There's only one possible reason.
"I know you have some kind of secret plan that involves Leon and Toko," she said, bluntly. "The other day, Hina and I saw Leon grabbing a bunch of hand mirrors." Byakuya made a tsk noise, probably angry at the Ultimate Baseball Pro's stupidity. "I know you can't tell me the details because you don't trust me, and I'm actually alright with that. As long as no one gets hurt, I'm okay. So, you must have already factored Kyoko's blindness into your plan, right? I know that from your perspective, she must be the most suspicious person after me. I bet you want to see if she's actually blind or something."
Byakuya's arms were still crossed. He tapped a finger against his elbow.
"Mukuro," he said. "It shocks me to admit that you're one of the smarter people here… I suppose that says more about our company than anything else, though. Kyoko doesn't need you to hover around her. Someone else does."
"Who?"
"Sayaka."
Mukuro sucked in her lips. In all this excitement, she'd forgotten about that.
"But I…"
"Well?" Byakuya chided. "Get going. Who else do you think is going to babysit her?"
Mukuro steamed for a moment. She hated that he was as right as he was, but there was no getting around it. A blind Kyoko was definitely more capable of taking care of herself than a healthy Sayaka.
"You…" Mukuro stretched for something to say, anything to counter his argument. "You never even told me what you found in the data processing room!"
It was such a random thing to scream, even he seemed surprised. But he regained himself a moment later, and shrugged.
"Nothing like I'd hoped. We could access the computers, but there was nothing important on them. They may have been scrubbed clean. We couldn't get any of it to connect to the internet, or any outside broadcasts. We're still stuck in here, as if nothing has changed at all. All that leaves is the Monokuma door, which we still can't get through."
Mukuro's hands balled up into fists. Reluctantly, cursing Hina's absence and Byakuya in general, she made her way to the dorms, kicking her feet along the floor like an angry kindergartener.
(Scene)
Sayaka's chest rose up and down, gently. Her hands rested on her chest, clutching tightly the kitten hairclip Makoto had given her. There was no way that Hiro would have thought to arrange her like that.
Her fingers must've pulled into that position on their own, naturally…
Mukuro sat at the edge of the bed, watching her closely.
She was so fragile compared to everyone else. Mukuro, Taka, Leon, and Hina were extremely fit, physically. Byakuya and Kyoko, even blinded, could easily take of themselves. Toko was weak, but her alter ego made up for that. Hiro was an imbecile, but he had the advantage of being a full-grown adult man. That left only Celeste, who might have been unimpressive in a physical sense, but clearly still had a keen mind.
Sayaka, though, was a weakling, and never struck Mukuro as especially intelligent.
Why, oh why, if you were going to tempt a boy with sex and try to kill him, would you target Leon?
What normal person thought they could launch a surprise attack on a professional athlete? In Sayaka's position, the prime target for an ambush like that was obviously Hifumi.
Mukuro scowled.
Is that just obvious stuff, or am I thinking too much like a soldier again?
She tapped a finger on the bedpost, and sighed.
Things had gone so very wrong after Makoto's death. They'd been wrong before it, too, but in a redeemable sort of way. The world could have been righted, if only he'd lived. For a second during the trial, it had even seemed like the two girls could be friends, and the three of them…
I'll never have another chance with Makoto, Mukuro desponded. And the others won't trust me again, not fully… Hina might even die, or already be dead, partly because of me…
Her expression darkened. For some reason, she didn't feel sad or miserable anymore. She wasn't sure what she felt, except that it was closest to anger.
She wasn't sure if she deserved it. Even when she was with Hina, at her most trusting and loving, Mukuro often denied herself the full feeling of happiness. It wasn't even just that she knew she ought to feel despair, it was a question of whether or not someone like her could feel pleasure without insulting her old victims. Even feeling remorse for her actions was almost an insult to them.
That middle school in particular, and all those children I butchered…
Yet, here and now, there was no choice. Sayaka had lost her memories. She was going to meet them all again, for the first time (fourth time?). Whether Mukuro deserved a second chance or not, she was not only getting it, she had to take it.
I'll fix things this time around, she decided. I will. I will! For his sake.
The nighttime announcement played. Mukuro checked her e-Handbook: 10 PM. She sighed, slipped it back into her jacket, and stood up.
I probably shouldn't sleep in this same room with her… She'll probably freak out as it is when she wakes up in a strange room alone. If there's a weird stranger with her…
Mukuro searched the dorm for a pad of paper and a pencil. Vaguely, she wondered if it was the same one Sayaka had used to lure Leon here that night.
Quickly, she sketched a warning:
Hello –
Sayaka, please don't worry. You've lost some of your memories. We'll explain everything after you wake up. It's very complicated, so I can't put it in writing, but we are your friends.
– Mukuro
Mukuro laid the note next to her (hopeful) friend's head, pat her on the shoulder, and left, locking the room behind her just in case. The hallway was already empty, and she realized, a little to her surprise, how tired she was.
She opened her own door and stepped inside. Without thinking, she left it locked behind herself. She should have been yawning, but she was too full of energy. Her skin tingled with anticipation. Tomorrow, Sayaka would wake up again, and be her original, true self.
If even losing your memories doesn't change who you really are, and Sayaka went crazy like that… must she always be on the edge, worried about her position in the world, and her friends, and what will happen to her if she's forgotten?
That was a sobering thought. For all her cheer and good spirits, Sayaka's soul had to be a little dark, indeed.
Mukuro threw off her dirty clothes and stripped down to her underwear. She stretched her legs, and it felt good. Blood was flowing. She felt like she belonged in the land of the living, even if she still didn't quite feel alive.
For no reason, she punched the air. Her heart was beating fast. She kicked an imaginary opponent, swept him off his feet, and delivered a killing blow with the butt of her heel down upon his throat. It chipped a blue tile on the floor.
The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Mukuro flipped around, fists raised to defend herself against—
The television.
She didn't even know how she'd known it was on.
The other Mukuro was there, but not as she had been. She wore an obvious pigtailed wig, but her real black hair peeked out from underneath her blonde bangs. A slightly too-small black cardigan and tie completed the look, as did her inexpertly-applied fake fingernails – but again, a shadow of the Fenrir tattoo was clearly visible beneath her foundation. And despite it all, she still had the freckles, and her eyes seemed slightly too thin.
Most of all, her posture was all wrong. She mocked confidence, but her hands shook as she pressed them against her waist. She smiled cruelly, but the corners of her lips were ever-so-slightly strained.
This wasn't Junko. It couldn't be Junko. Junko was so strong and assertive that the world would bend over and take whatever she gave it. Junko was such a perfect example of humanity, and such a paragon of all things Despair, that this weak, feeble recreation of her was almost mocking her.
Was this the best I could do at imitating Junko? I barely look like her…
No! This wasn't her. This was the real Junko, imitating Mukuro's own imitation. This was Junko shifting all of her own attributes to be just slightly wrong. There could only be one reason for it.
Mukuro shook her head. Before the other Mukuro, the real Junko, the fake Mukuro masquerading as Junko, could speak, she stamped her foot on the floor and pointed at the screen.
"Stop messing with me!" she shouted. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to convince me that you're the real Mukuro by showing how crappy a job you'd do at imitating Junko, aren't you?!"
The fake Junko's – no, the fake Mukuro-Junko's (Junkuro? Mukunko?) – face changed completely. Shocked at the sudden anger in the real Mukuro's tone, she drew a hand up to her chin. By accident (or brilliant calculation), one of her long fake red nails caught against the wig's tresses, and pulled off. Her real nail, cut appropriately short for a soldier, was covered in shiny glue.
"Junko," she smiled, voice quavering. "I knew you'd get it! But… does that mean you—"
"No! I'm still Mukuro."
"Heh…" She cocked her head. "But why do you even want to be her? Don't you remember that middle school?"
Mukuro's confidence cracked. She tried not to show it, and she probably could have hidden it from anyone else, but she knew instantly that her sister saw everything.
"I…" She bit her lip. "I don't care who I really am! Because all that matters now is who I am now!"
The sister on the screen gave a single quick, sharp laugh.
"That's a lie, and you know it."
"Shut up!" Mukuro insisted.
She shut her eyes, and tried to force herself to believe it.
I don't care who I am! I could even be someone else besides Mukuro and Junko, and it wouldn't matter. All that matters is what I want now!
"I'm making a declaration right now!" she screamed, surprising her twin. "I'm going to undo as much damage as I can that the two of us did."
"But if you acknowledge that 'the two of us' did all that damage, then you can't say that who you were doesn't matter—"
"No!" Mukuro spat at the screen. "No more sophistry. I can say that, and I will."
"But it doesn't make sense!"
"I don't care! This isn't a trial, and you're not my judge. I don't need your approval. Things don't have to make sense unless I want them to. I'll make the rules here, and my rules say that things will be alright from now on. So, get off my TV, and go hide in your stupid hole on the fifth floor, or behind that door in the data room, or wherever you are, and watch helplessly as I fix things, and seethe."
Junko, or Mukuro, or whomever she was, blinked just once. Her expression didn't change, but she seemed almost… contemplative.
After a while, her eyes grew dull.
"Okay," she said, completely without emotion. "Have it your way."
The television switched off, and Mukuro realized she was alone. She was still charged with energy, though. She grunted, punched a hole into the wall, and screamed with rage and satisfaction.
I'll *will* the world back to the way it should be, and I'll start with Sayaka.
Twenty minutes of sit-ups later, having burned off only a tiny fraction of her adrenaline, the Ultimate Soldier crawled into bed and commanded her body to sleep.
She should have felt triumphant, but for some reason, that same empty feeling stayed with her, a ghost gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. And when she slept, it took hold of her dreams, though she didn't remember it in the morning.
(Scene)
Mukuro tapped her foot on the floor of Sayaka's dorm room.
Tap-tap-tap-tap
Someone (she didn't even remember whom) had given her a plate of eggs. She nibbled at them lightly, not even certain of what they tasted like, nor smelled like. They might as well have been made of plastic; whatever attention she had could not be torn from the sleeping idol.
How long had she watched over Sayaka? Hours, definitely. It wasn't breakfast anymore. She wasn't even sure when she'd set the empty plate down on the room's desk.
Instinctively, Mukuro pressed her ear almost against Sayaka's mouth, and look toward her feet. There was breath, and her chest moved up and down.
I know first aid, she thought. I could perform CPR right now, or apply a tourniquet, or...
She shook her head, and sat back down at the edge of the bed. Whatever basic soldiery healing skills she had were useless in a situation like this. Anything less than a real doctor might as well have not existed at all.
What if Monokuma lied?
She didn't like the idea. Junko had gone to great lengths to ensure that the bear, at least, was perceived as trustworthy, if evil. She needed his word to be accepted for her game to continue.
But what if Sayaka's memory of events was wiped by that grape, only for her to never wake up? That wouldn't be 'lying,' yet…
She gulped down, hard. For the first time since she woke up, she perceived something other than her would-be friend: the heavy sheen of sweat rolling across her face and cheeks.
God, that's it, isn't it? Sayaka will never wake up. She'll die because she can't eat, and the person who suggested she have the grape will be executed for murder.
She stood up, panic mounting, uncertain of who to call for help. And then—
"Ugh…"
Sayaka tilted her head to the side. Her face screwed up into an expression of intense pain, and she raised a hand to her chest. She, too, was sweating. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, save for another moan.
Mukuro ran to the door, which she realized only just now had been open the entire time.
(Scene)
It was an even crazier story than Mukuro had realized, once you laid it all out there. Evil twins were the least of it. Memory wiping, brainwashing, despair cults, robots, long-lost loves, split personalities… If it had just been her saying it, Sayaka surely would have thought her a madwoman.
Luckily, everyone in the school, sans Celeste, Hina, and Junko, was there to back her up. They stood or sat in the bathhouse entrance, surrounding Sayaka, but giving her just enough space to breathe.
Mukuro did most of the talking, explaining everything from her own perspective. Taka and Hiro spoke up the most, adding this detail or that. Toko said nothing the whole time, of course, and neither did Leon. By the way he rubbed at the scar along his cheek, it was obvious what was on his mind, and why he kept his silence.
To her credit, Sayaka took the news better than probably anyone else would have. She was still shocked at certain parts, especially her plan with Makoto's dorm room and the news of his death, and teared up when she learned that her friends were likely dead, but she didn't deny it all, like Mukuro had feared.
Learning that the world was destroyed is something that should happen to you a maximum of one time…
Mukuro admitted most everything, including her own complicity in Junko's actions, but omitted a few key details. No one stepped into object.
First, she failed to mention just how despairful and crazy Sayaka had turned after Makoto's horrible death. To hear the tale, the Ultimate Pop Sensation had been depressed and guilt-ridden, but not the catatonic and insane wreck everyone else keenly remembered. Second, Mukuro downplayed the depth to which Sayaka loathed her, describing everything in terms of avenging Makoto.
If we're going to have this second chance, then I need her not to blame me…
She felt awful for the deception, but it was so subtle that she was certain even most of the others didn't catch it. Only Byakuya and Kyoko might have noticed, and they said nothing.
When it was all settled, Sayaka covered her lips. She still wore the same clothes from yesterday, and her hair was still unwashed and fraying. Dark bags underscored her eyes, despite all the sleep she'd had. Yet, despite all of that, she was still clearly the Sayaka of old. A ruddy color had returned to her skin, and her eyes were less narrow than they had been the past several days.
"I see." she said after a while, in a low, terrible squeak. "I'm… I don't know what to say." A few seconds passed, then she stood up and solemnly bowed to the group, and then again to Leon in particular. "I'm sorry."
Her would-be victim just scowled. Distrust and hatred burned in his eyes, perhaps even worse than before. And why not? The insane version of Sayaka at least stood for something clear. The kindly, cutesy idol who stood before them had been the most easily turned to murder of anyone.
Mukuro sucked in her lips. Leon's muscles were tense, as if he expected an attack at any moment.
She recalled feeling the killing intent radiating off Sayaka that day. How the girl's blood drained out of her face, how she quavered and relied on Makoto, and how her fears and emotions with him were genuine… and how clear it had been to the Ultimate Soldier, right then and there, that cute little Sayaka was totally going to murder someone.
Right now, she felt all the same fear and despair coming off Sayaka, but not as much of it. A muted version, one that could be restrained, or maybe even defeated. They could have back the real Sayaka.
After a while, Leon huffed, aggravated, and stomped out into the dorms without responding. Sayaka might have looked crushed, but the weight of everything she'd heard already weighed heavily upon her.
Byakuya was the next to leave, apparently dismissing her as irrelevant. Toko followed at his heels, but, strangely, Taka also went with him. Mukuro might have considered that more closely, but she was still too focused on her charge.
Sayaka sat on one of the benches, shivering despite the heat. Her arms were curled around her body, and she looked off into the distance. Her face scrunched up in pain and regret, a feeling Mukuro knew all too well, and she bit her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood.
Kyoko was suddenly behind her.
"Listen," said the detective, not unkindly. "Someone has to stay with her and help her through things."
"Shouldn't that be you? You know her the best."
"I'm busy," she said. "Besides, you're not doing anything else."
Mukuro didn't argue. She nodded and sighed deeply. She turned around to ask Kyoko one more thing, only to find that she and Hiro were already gone.
Fine, she decided. It's what I wanted, anyway.
She kneeled down by Sayaka's feet and looked up into those teary blue eyes. The girl felt such pain and remorse, all for something she didn't even remember – both of them did.
"I made some mistakes, huh?" Sayaka whispered.
"Yeah."
She whimpered and shut her eyes. Mukuro reached up a hand and squeezed her shoulder, thinking again that it was what Hina would have done for her.
(Scene)
The cafeteria lights blared down on them. Sayaka's weak hands slowly ripped a roll of bread in two. Dry, thin crumbs flaked off each half and drifted through the air. She raised the edge of the roll to her lips and tore a sliver off with her teeth. The part that actually entered her mouth was smaller than a fingernail, but it was almost too much for her to eat.
"Mmhmm…" Sayaka pressed a finger against one of the halves of the roll, pushing it over the side of her plate and sending it tumbling off onto to the floor. "I'm scared."
"Of Junko?"
She shook her head.
"My friends…"
She can't mean us…
"Your idol group?"
She nodded, almost too weakly to see.
"My only dreams were to make people happy, and to stay with my friends. I always thought that the worst thing in the world would be if people got tired of us. I wouldn't bring anyone joy anymore, those wonderful days with the others would come to an end, and everyone would go their separate ways." With each new word, her face drained further of blood. "I can see how all of that must seem like that smallest problem in the universe compared to what you told me about your sister, but even thinking about the others being dead still feels so…"
She trailed off, unable to finish. She was shaking.
"That's not a small problem at all," Mukuro said, and she meant it. "If I had anyone, they would be the only thing in the universe I thought about."
Nothing else was said for a long, long while. After what felt like minutes, Sayaka looked up into Mukuro's eyes.
"Were the two of us friends? … The time that you remember, I mean."
Mukuro hesitated before answering. She hid her hands underneath the cafeteria table, but it wasn't hard to see how she fidgeted and bit her cheek. She was not a particularly empathetic person, but even she could see that the girl across from her was fumbling in the dark, desperate for a friend to fill the void in this strange, unwelcoming school.
"Yeah," she said. "We were."
"And I… I blamed you for Makoto's death, and I was just trying to avenge him?"
"… Yeah."
It wasn't a complete lie, she told herself.
Sayaka nodded. She looked devastated.
"To be completely honest, I only kind of remember him…" she said, ashamed. "We went to middle school together, and I knew him, but I never really… knew him, you know?"
Mukuro shook her head.
"No, I thought you were closer than that."
"I guess we were, before Junko wiped our memory. And again, before I tried to kill Leon… Twice." Her eyes watered. A tear tripped off the tip of her nose and splashed against her bread. "God!"
"It's not your fault. Junko did this."
"It was still me!" Sayaka sobbed. She tossed her tasteless meal onto the empty plate, and pressed her palms onto her eyes. "I just wanted to bring people joy, I never thought…"
Mukuro reached across the table and took her hands into her own.
"We'll stop Junko, whatever she's planning."
But that didn't help Sayaka at all. What she cared about wasn't revenge, or even justice. Mukuro knew what really got to her.
It was my description of how she behaved, she knew. Even my sanitized version is still so awful, and her imagination does the rest.
For a moment, Mukuro felt the burden of her own forgotten sins, described to her by Junko and those videos. That pit of despair opened up underneath her, and she and Sayaka would fall into it together, and be trapped forever by their mutual transgressions and falling from grace…
Then she shook her head. She'd told her sister last night that none of that mattered, but that would only be true if she made it true.
"Sayaka," she said. "You can be better."
"But I—"
"Made a lot of mistakes. But you can be better than that other person. You can look back at her and feel ashamed without letting it eat you alive."
"… Is that really true?" Sayaka wiped her eyes with one of her sleeves. "I mean, when you think of what you did?"
No, Mukuro knew instantly. All I'm doing it trying to deny my old self's influence on who I am now.
But Sayaka's crimes were less than Mukuro's, and her psyche was weaker. This was the best way.
"Yeah," she lied. "And I… I want things to work out. For everyone. Including you."
Sayaka hiccupped, burning with humiliation. But the worst of that despair had been chased away, if only for an instant, and she managed a smile.
"I guess… you're trying to help me, for Makoto's sake." she said.
Or my own…
"Yeah," Mukuro smiled back, her features stretching to their breaking point. "And for yours."
(Scene)
"What a beautiful music room!"
Sayaka gasped in delight as they entered the massive room, clapping her hands together and beaming. After the shower and hour-long makeup and combing session, her hair and skin were back to normal. Combined with the fresh wash of clothing, and she looked hardly any different from the first day they'd woken up here. The only big change was that gleaming hairclip just over her right ear.
"Yeah," Mukuro agreed. She walked in behind her charge, then settled down into a nearby chair. "You must've sung here a lot of times, though I guess only Kyoko and Junko would remember for sure."
And that one time recently, when you sang to me about how I was responsible for everything…
Sayaka was oblivious to that last thought, though, so she just twirled around on the floor before hefting herself onto the stage.
"Oh, it's wonderful," she said, delighted. "Do you think I could sing something for everyone? To lift their spirits?"
That's why you became an idol in the first place, isn't it?
"Heh… We wouldn't mind. Well, maybe Byakuya would, but screw him. You'll love Hina, once she's better. She was always the most cheerful of us. Once she got hurt, the mood got way sourer."
"But she'll be back soon? Oh, I can't wait!"
Sayaka struck a girlish, enthusiastic pose on the stage, almost identical to one of the ones she'd used during that awful, mocking song. Mukuro looked away, pained and awkward.
After a bit, Sayaka jumped down and sat in another chair across from Mukuro.
"Is it possible to reason with your sister?" she asked.
"No," Mukuro said without a moment's hesitation. "She's completely insane."
"… Okay."
Sayaka sighed, clearly disappointed, but not crushed.
"Mukuro," she said, more seriously. "Are you… in a lot of pain right now?"
"… What makes you say that?"
"Because I am, after I learned about what I did… And your situation's similar to mine, isn't it? But worse." She smiled, and this time it was her features that were strained. "So, you must be feeling really terrible."
"… Maybe."
"Do you want to feel terrible, together?"
"… Yeah," Mukuro said, and it wasn't a lie.
(Scene)
"… and this is the Data Processing Center," Mukuro finished. After this, there would be nothing left in the tour.
"Wow!" Sayaka quickly scanned the endless rows of glowing blue computers. "It's very… sci-fi-y."
Despite her attempt at enthusiasm, it was very obvious that she had no interest in this place. Why would she? She was an entertainer, not a programmer.
This is just one more thing that would have been more useful if we'd saved Chihiro…
Mukuro sighed, frustrated. She'd made a dedication to only look forward from now on, and not let the past weigh on her… But the truth was that she frequently thought of those she'd lost. Chihiro had to be the most innocent and helpless of them all, even moreso than Makoto, and her death was the most unfair.
"What's that weird door?"
Mukuro snapped out of it and followed Sayaka's finger. The girl was pointing at the black-and-white door in the back of the room.
"We don't know. It's obviously got something to do with Monokuma, though."
"How do you know?"
Mukuro narrowed her eyes at the oblivious idol, wondering for a moment if she'd misheard that.
"Oh!" She covered her mouth. "You haven't actually seen Monokuma yet, have you?" Sayaka shook her head. "He looks like a teddy bear, except half white and half black."
"Sounds disgusting."
"Yes," Mukuro said, loudly, knowing that Junko was surely listening in. "I couldn't agree more. Anyone who likes wearing black and white is definitely gross."
Sayaka wandered over to the door and rapped her knuckles on it.
Thump thump
"Yep," she said, smiling. "It's made of metal."
"I bet."
"What's this dust, though?"
She kneeled by the door and motioned downward. Where the door met the floor, there was a line of orange dust.
It was exactly the same kind of dust that had been in front of the data processing room the other day, before Mukuro busted down the door. She pulled Sayaka away from it to examine it all herself, careful to touch nothing.
She recalled the first time she'd seen this. The dust back then had been perfectly evenly-spread and measured almost too precisely, and had had a uniform density from one side of the doorway to the other. This dust…
Was exactly the same.
Mukuro laid herself down on the floor in front of it so that her eye was just above it, trying to get the best possible view. Now that she was focusing so intently, she could even see a tiny pattern in the surface of the dust, carved by some kind of thin tool, like the end of a pencil or something. It was just a wavy line, but it followed the same perfect measurements as everything else. The slightest disturbance would ruin it all, especially opening the door, and it would surely be impossible to ever get it exactly right again.
Someone had gone to great lengths to arrange this line of orange dust, but Mukuro had no idea whom. Who would even have the patience to do something like this? Not her, or Hiro, or Leon, that was for sure.
It's spread across one of the two parts of the school we can't access…
She snapped to attention. Staying careful not to touch the dust, she grabbed Sayaka's hand and made for the gate to the fifth floor. In truth, though, she already knew what she'd find there.
Another line of orange dust lay underneath the gate. Like with the door, it was crafted with probably an hour or more of dedicated effort. Like with the door, it was definitely impossible to open the gate without ruining the pattern carved into its surface.
Mukuro crossed her arms, contemplating this for a while.
"Did Junko put all this weird dust here and in the data processing room?" Sayaka speculated. "As part of her game."
Mukuro sucked in her lips. She couldn't really see why her sister would do something like that, though. This seemed completely useless as far as murder schemes went.
"I don't know," she admitted. "We should probably tell Kyoko."
Sayaka shuddered.
"She scares me a little," she moaned. "I can tell she's nice, but she… there's something about her, you know?"
Mukuro understood perfectly. Kyoko was her closest friend right now, but someone unfamiliar with her could be easily intimidated.
"I'll tell her later, alone, then." she offered.
"Thanks."
(Scene)
Sayaka yawned as she entered her dorm room. The nighttime announcement had just ended, and Mukuro stood at the edge of where the door met the hallway and leaned inside.
"I feel like my life was saved," the former said. "I guess it was."
"… Yeah."
"Mukuro," she said. "Do you always feel like something bad is waiting on the horizon for you, no matter how hard you try to fight it?"
"… Yeah."
Impossibly, the cheerful mood remained exactly as it was. Sayaka just smiled and nodded.
"Something bad is coming," she admitted. "I don't know what, but Junko won't let us be, will she?"
"No."
Sayaka nodded twice, then lifted a hand to her head. She pulled off the white kitten hairclip and offered it through the doorway.
"Take it." she offered.
Mukuro balked.
"Wh—what?"
"Maybe he meant more to me than to you, before. Or maybe he meant the same. I don't know. But, right now, he means more to you than he does to me. You should take this."
Mukuro eyed the silly thing greedily. Sayaka was right. She did want it. Even now, even with the gift Makoto had given her stashed in her own dorm room, she still wanted this kitten hairclip. It was his first gift, and the better one. It was something that could be taken anywhere, worn anywhere, as opposed to a little uncutesy charm to a very masculine god of war.
She shook her head.
"I can't," she said. "It was for you."
Sayaka nodded, and placed it back above her ear.
"I'll keep it warm for you, then, until you decide otherwise, or until one of us dies… Oh, sorry. That wasn't funny." She smiled sympathetically, reached across the doorway, and hugged Mukuro. "I don't know about the others, or even myself, but I know that you'll be okay in the end."
"How?" Mukuro asked, wanting to believe it.
Sayaka laughed, released her, and struck that same coy, girlish pose. Her lips tugged into an even wider smile.
"I'm psychic."