Possibilities

AN: I've mulled this idea over a few times. What a full length fic of the IF route would be, how I would go about it if I had the time and money to spend crafting it. What to incorporate (UDG) and what would need to be reworked (DR3). In the end, I decided to burn it down to the base essence. Enjoy.

What IF 7: The End of IF

"Okay, lower your stance a bit. Bring your elbows in. Finger off the trigger until you're absolutely sure you need to fire. Otherwise, lie it flat on the guard. Fire when ready."

If you asked Mukuro what her list of preferred date nights would involve, the firing range was surprisingly low on her list of places to make out. Hitting stationary targets was little sport to the girl who could single-handedly mow down an army of Monokumas with nothing more than two handguns and a burning desire to protect a friend. A new concept, having friends. Komaru had been the first of many, not that she deserved a single one.

But it was the elder Naegi sibling that concerned her today, as he did most days. Headphones on, goggles donned, Makoto was every bit the nervous first-time shooter despite his insistence that they head down to the range today. It only took the first attempt to drill in that movies and television leave out all of the less desirable aspects of discharging a firearm. The weight of solid metal dragging down your hands. The crack of gunpowder, punching the inner ear and singeing the senses. The recoil of each and every shot fired, jolting the bones and throwing off the amateur marksman. He looked so dreadfully out of place amongst the concrete walls and glass panels, a sheep in wolf's clothing. But he had insisted, so as his girlfriend (what she'd done to deserve him was beyond anyone's guess, especially hers, seeing as the war she'd helped ignite was still ongoing), it was her responsibility to make him miserable for a couple of hours until he dropped this silly idea, recognised that she'd always be around to kill people so he didn't have to, and found a more desirable use of their evening. Cuddling in bed came to mind.

Another shot went absurdly wide, missing even the paper around the monochrome rings and chipping the concrete wall instead. Makoto sighed, flicked the safety back on, returned the handgun to the bench and removed his headphones.

"I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong."

"Maybe it's a sign. The universe doesn't want you to kill anyone."

"Well, neither do I, but I'd like to be able to hit someone in the leg or the arm. You know, to stop them. Or a Monokuma, if needed."

"Leg and arm shots don't work on Despairs. The lower ranked ones power through the pain, and the Ultimates just get excited when they get injured. As for Monokumas…"

She trailed off, staring at the unmarked sheet. If he couldn't hit the outermost ring, nailing a glass eye was in the realm of miracles. And while he'd created miracles before (everything involving her, for one), she couldn't rely on him drawing out that power each and every time he had to pull the trigger. Makoto began the reloading process. After so many shots pumped into the walls, it was the one thing he had down to a tee at this point.

"You know I'll always be around when someone needs to be subdued, right? There's no need to put yourself through all this. Any idiot can pick up a gun, but your talents are actually useful to the world. Kindness, understanding, forgiveness. That's what we need more of."

"I know, but at the same time, I can't lean on you forever. Especially if you get sent away again."

Mukuro had worked a multitude of solo missions since joining the Future Foundation, both officially and unofficially. In any case, she was the only operative to work solo missions. She suspected it was a roundabout way of getting her killed on the part of Kyosuke Munakata, albeit an incredibly inefficient one.

"You have plenty of other friends that can protect you until I return. It's one of Class 78's greatest strengths."

A small sigh, a re-examination of the weapon. At least he didn't point it directly at his face. Class 78 was brimming with hope and camaraderie, but not so much common sense. Mondo had punched a hole straight through his beloved pompadour the first time he'd taken to the range. Mukuro slipped in behind Makoto, resting her chin on his head. As always, his adorable little cowlick tickled her nose.

"You're not worthless, okay? It's just… the current situation doesn't appreciate your talents. Ultimate Despair can't be talked to and understood when it's running at you screaming. You work by getting under its skin, until it's spooning you in a firing range."

That got a chuckle out of him.

"You're not like that anymore, you know?"

"I know. I'm worse."

He wriggled out of her grip, capturing her in kind. Damn him, he knew she was weak to handholding.

"You're not worse. You've been working all this time to set things right. No matter what everyone thought of you, no matter what you had to do to prove yourself. I know you think you're just the blood on your hands, but you're not your sister. We'll stop her. Together."

She could see her furious blush reflected in his goggles, doubling in intensity as she got trapped in his eyes once again. After a year of dating, one would think she'd be long past filling up with teenage butterflies just from looking at him. And yet here she was, all composure fled despite being deep in her element.

"Ugh… cheater."

"All's fair in love and war Mukuro. Now come on, I'll stop as soon as I can land one shot. Show me again how I'm meant to stand."

"Okay, fine. I'll give you some hands-on experience."

She slipped behind him again as he took his mark, already looking more relaxed. A good sign. Gently, she reached around and guided his hands towards a place where he couldn't possibly miss, even with the recoil shakes. She didn't bother to factor in luck, because the calculations required to work in his particular set of skills to even the straightest shot were beyond her as someone who simply applied bullet A to object B without thinking. She squared his shoulders, noting how broad they'd become over the years. A slip of a boy flashed in her mind. Before The Tragedy, before she'd gotten herself together, before she could fathom the little spark in her breast that blossomed at a simple smile. She was forever taller though, much to the amusement of their former classmates. Body position was fine, but she couldn't resist adjusting his hips; an unashamed grin on her face as he took notice.

"Well, if the herbivore boy will lock himself into the wolf's cage…"

"Grabbing my butt aside, is this good?"

"If you miss now, there is nothing I can do to help you."

Hands up, she backed off, retrieving her own ear protection. After a few seconds, Makoto emptied the magazine. With the ringing dying down, she returned to find a look of perfect disbelief upon his face, an expression quickly mirrored on hers. With nine shots, he'd missed the target eight times and hit once. Outside the rings, eight holes marked each cardinal direction. Dead centre of the black, a single mark.

Yup, there was no accounting for luck.


The war between Hope and Despair was reaching its climax. The Monokuma hordes had torn themselves into shreds thanks to the Warriors of Hope. The bodies of Ultimates from either sides of the conflict could fill a graveyard a mile wide. Izuru Kamukura had abandoned the battlefield, so utterly tired of it all. And as the Future Foundation's headquarters burned to the ground, the first and last of Despair scrambled for an advantage atop the peak.

"Seriously, all these years and you never considered that I might be able to defend myself? Ultimate Analyst, Mukuro! I can see everything you do before you do it!"

Junko slid past a clumsy kick and wrapped her arm around Mukuro's throat. Even without Junko's ability, Mukuro had been going from battle to battle, endless waves of Despairs wound up into a fury by their mistress. Not to mention the equally insane zealotry from the Future Foundation, so drunk on the idea of a final victory that they had set fire to their own home for the chance to eliminate both sisters at once. More than that, she only had herself to blame. She'd had her chances, two of them. But after everything between them, after everything done to the world, Junko was still her beloved little sister. An existence she simply couldn't extinguish. Her beloved little sister didn't share the exact sentiment. The world was going dark.

"So when does your grand plan kick off Mukuro? You promised me a despair beyond despair, didn't you? Was a fistfight to the death all your one-track mind could come up with? Cause if so, then all you've given me is disappointment beyond disappointment. But then again, what else is new?"

Junko wrenched her arm, cutting off the last slivers of air.

"Well, goodbye sis. Hold still while I kill you this time, okay?"

"Mukuro!"

The single word cut through the darkness, a spark igniting in her soul. He wasn't supposed to be here. She'd seen him off with a final kiss, pushing him out of the building before it locked down completely. Somehow, for some reason, Makoto had made his way back to her, his adorable face blackened with soot. He'd lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way, and clutched in his hand was a standard Future Foundation handgun. Junko chuckled, low and unhinged.

"Well, look who it isn't. Hey lover-boy! Give me a second to finish up sissy-poo, and then I'll take you apart too. You can both plummet into oblivion together. How romantic."

"Let her go Junko. No-one else has to die today. There's still time to get out."

"Awful naïve of you to assume no-one else will die today Makoto. A meteor could drop out of the sky right now, wipe us all out! Wouldn't that just be the cherry on top of this tragedy? Nothing any of us did would have mattered! Not the murders, not the redemptions, not this beautiful sisterly rivalry, none of it!"

"Is a meteor about to fall? Look out the window and tell me if so. I'd like to hold my girlfriend while it happens."

"Ugh, way to take things too literally. You're no fun lover-boy."

"Maybe, but I've seen what your idea of fun is, and I'll have no part in it."

"Yeah, you having no part in it is why we're in this mess to begin with. Ugh, why'd I put that stupid button in the MonoMono Machine to begin with?"

"You said… it would bring… Ultimate Despair… if they remembered… before the right time."

"Shut up Mukuro, you aren't a part of this conversation."

"And isn't that the point? Every time someone points how untrue your worldview is, you just get rid of them. You knew we'd never kill each other if we had our memories, you knew– "

"Hey, Makoto. Not to cut you off or anything, but I'm cutting you off. See, Mukuro doesn't have long left if I keep squeezing her like this, and you boring me to death with one of your tiresome speeches is going to kill her before it does me in. So, how about this?"

Mukuro was wrenched up, Junko resting her head alongside her sister's, fingers pushing the corners of Mukuro's mouth up into a smile.

"You brought a piece to the party, so let's play some Russian Roulette. How many shots you got?"

"Just one."

"Oh man, that's just perfect! Okay Makoto, here's the game. Put your best foot forward and take your best shot. If there's any hope left in this world, you'll ruin my fashion career forever. Also I'll be dead, but whatever. But, in the more likely event that despair rules everything around me, you'll put poor little Mukuro out of my misery."

Makoto looked down to the gun, as if noticing he'd brought it along for the first time. Feeling the weight of a life in his hand.

"Come on Makoto, I'm waiting! Mukuro's not got much life left in her."

Mukuro could feel herself getting pulled around and tried to push back, but her body was so heavy. Her mouth moved breathlessly, half-summoned thoughts spilling out. He couldn't. Not Makoto. It shouldn't be his cross to bear. That is, if he managed to hit them at all. But despite her prayers to all that was good and right, all she could do was watch as he brought the pistol up, left hand cupped about the magazine. He lowered his stance, fixed his breathing. He squared his shoulders, keeping his finger lying flat along the guard.

"You know, it's funny."

"Oh? What is? I do love a dark joke. Hence my sister's entire life."

"I have no idea how to use this thing."

"Excuse me?"

Makoto took a step forward, and his left shoe, eternally untied, came away from his foot. With the laces spilling out, his ankle twisted, and he began to tumble forwards. The gun flew away from his hand, spinning towards the Sisters of Despair. In perfect slow-motion, it arced right over Mukuro's shoulder, and directly into Junko's face. There was a crunch of mangled cartilage as both sisters hit the ground, Mukuro falling into Makoto's waiting arms. Sweet oxygen rushed back in, as much as she could gather from the smoky air. Her vision cleared enough, showing her a smile on the brink of tears.

"Mukuro? Are you okay, can you hear me?"

"I'm… good."

"Well bully for you."

Junko was back up, her face bright crimson from the torrent of blood gushing from her broken nose. The gun was in her hand, pointed straight at Makoto. Mukuro tried to scramble up and protect him, but her body was still sluggish and weak.

"A gun to the face. A gun. To the face. That's so fucking lame! Who throws a gun?"

"Did you see it coming?"

Junko didn't speak, but her twitching, blood-shot eye said everything.

"That's why."

Silence fell between the trio, leaving only the crackle of flames from below, steadily rising. Junko pressed the barrel to the side of her head.

"Fuck you. I'm out."

Mukuro reached up futilely, trying to stop her. A flat click echoed. Junko stood standing, slowly bringing the weapon to bare. She stared at it, her gaze looking out a thousand miles.

"And it's empty."

"I told you, I have no idea how to use it. Why run the risk of someone getting hurt?"

The pistol clattered to the ground.

"Give it up Junko. You lose. Take your despair from that."

"I… you… no."

Junko hung like a ragged scarecrow, flipping in the wind. Mukuro found the strength to sit up, squeezing Makoto's hand for support.

"This isn't despair. This isn't anything. It's just a lame trick, followed by a lamer trick. What kind of miserable cuckold would be satisfied by things ending this way?"

Her head cranked a flat ninety degrees, to the edge of the platform where they'd been fighting. An odd light flickered in the depths of her eyes, the familiar manic grin returning to her face.

"Good news Makoto. You win."

She took off, sprinting towards the barrier. But as she leapt towards her doom from five stories high, a pair of arms caught her in the middle. Mukuro dug in at every inch of fabric she could grab hold of, keeping Junko aloft.

"Sorry Junko. I saw that coming."

"And I saw that you'd see that coming!"

Junko's jacket ripped along the seams, leaving scraps in Mukuro's grasp. Junko fell, but only for a second. Mukuro had her by the shoulders now, hanging onto the barrier by the very tips of her shoes.

"And I saw that you'd see what I saw coming."

"Mukuro you silly bitch, you can't pull us both up like this! We'll both fall to our deaths! But hey, I guess that's pretty poetic! We came in together, and we'll take each other out! A perfectly despairing death!"

Howling laughter whipped over the roar of the inferno, the sisters dangling precariously. Any little movement would send them plummeting to their deaths, so obviously Junko started kicking her legs and swinging back and forth.

"Junko, stop."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But if you wanted to survive this, you should have stayed up there with your boy-toy!"

"I did."

Junko stopped finding the situation so funny, and looked up. Past Mukuro, with her usual passive expression, to Makoto, holding onto her legs and slowly, steadily, pulling both of them up.

"How? What? How? He's a stick-figure in a cheap suit! There's no way he can do this!"

Back up on the balcony, Makoto pulled. And Sakura pulled on him. And Aoi pulled on her. And Mondo pulled on her. And so on and so on, all of the 78th and final class of Hope's Peak Academy, a solid line saving the trio from themselves. They fell over the barrier, leaving Junko to stare in disbelief at the classmates she just couldn't kill. Makoto fell into Mukuro, breathing heavily.

"Hey guys. Took you long enough."

"Not all of us fancied your suicidal shortcut." Byakuya pushed his glasses up.

"Yeah, it's a good thing you're so lucky. That crevasse was stupid huge."

Mukuro shot her boyfriend a look.

"What were you doing while I wasn't around?"

"Getting back to you."

"Oh my god, just let me die."

Junko's laments for death were answered as the building began to quake, the fire swallowing up the supports at long last.

"Okay, time to go! Grab that mastermind and let's get out of here!"


It was a clear day that the sisters were convicted. Lifetime imprisonments, no chance of parole. Not surprising to anyone. Who in their right mind would let either of the Ultimate Despairs run about free? But while the rest of the world sat and booed Junko in the accusation dock, Matoko had other problem so to consider, like electing the teachers for New Hope's Peak Academy.

"So, what would you say you bring to the role?"

"I like to think I've got a good grasp on discipline. I briefly had a small teaching position in Iraq for a couple of months. My group of palace guards lasted the longest before the rebels took over."

"I don't think I can submit that to Mr Munakata."

"You say that like he'll accept anything we give him."

"True, but that's no reason not to try. We didn't get this far by being lazy."

Mukuro smiled, ran a thumb along her wedding band.

"No. I suppose we didn't. Actually, pass the papers over."

She collected the documents of the teachers-in-waiting, shuffled them, and spread them out across her husband's new desk, face-down.

"Okay, pick ten. That's your new staff."

"Huh?"

"You said it yourself. We didn't get here by being lazy. We got here with kindness, understanding and forgiveness. But more than that, we got here with a heavy dose of luck. So, let's see which of your candidates is the luckiest. You've already vetoed them for everything else, so there's nothing to lose."

It seemed like a bad idea, but Makoto thought there might be a chance that this random method could lead to a perfect line-up of teachers for Hope's Peak. And so, he reached out, and selected the first one.