At the gym, they were surprised by a living, talking teddy bear that, in short, instructed them to participate in the School Life of Mutual Killing.
It was a lot to absorb; a talking teddy bear named Monokuma, a school they could never leave, and back's put against the wall to kill. Things only got more surreal when the bear self-destructed, almost killing Mondo with it.
As asountded as everyone was, as they objected to their orders to kill each other to graduate, Makoto couldn't help but ponder why everyone's memories were erased for such a thing. They could be forced into a situation like this with their memories.
They had already been trapped in the school for a year; but Monokuma was talking as though they had just arrived at Hope's Peak.
Why? Why take away that distinction? Why take away the memories? Why not just lock away all the food? Or take away something else? Why something like memories? He kept asking himself.
One by one, the students filtered out to go explore the school and report their findings.
The last two in the gym were Makoto Naegi and Mukuro, disguised as Junko. Makoto was about to call out to her, but then he noticed the security cameras set up around the gym.
Those weren't there the last time he was in the gym. He got a bad chill down his spine and decided he would try and talk to her in a more private location. Whatever situation he was in, something had gone wrong, and he needed to be exceedingly careful.
But as the two left the gym, there were no private locations; there were cameras and monitors lined up in every room.
He had an idea. "Hey, M - Junko." He caught himself, but even as he did, he saw Mukuro flinch. "I'm going to check the laundry room for clues, want to come with me?"
It took Mukuro a second to answer, "Ew, you're like, not trying to score with me, are you Makoto?"
Makoto's eyes widened, cheeks flushing. That was so... unlike Mukuro. She was usually quiet and reserved. But her voice sounded nothing like Junko's. Despite the change in tone, he could easily recognize it as Mukuro trying to imitate Junko's voice. The result was that it sounded halfway between the two, and unrecognizable as either. "No, of course not. Just can't be too careful, you know?"
"Well, what if I was dangerous?"
That question sounded a bit more like Mukuro. Makoto remembered the first time he and her had sat together after the Tragedy.
Makoto had accidentally gotten up an hour early, due to some bad luck with his alarm clock. Still, his stomach rumbled and he decided to get up for some food at the dining hall.
It had only been two weeks since the school went on lockdown, but the walk in the darkened halls wasn't any easier. He missed seeing his parents and sister on the weekends. He missed the feel of the sunshine on his face.
As he entered the kitchen, he made himself a simple omelette and rice. He was not a bad cook by any means, but he didn't want to leave anything to chance. Although he somehow accidentally made too much.
As he walked back to the dining hall, he was surprised to see Mukuro walk in. "Good morning, Mukuro!"
She didn't convey emotions as strongly as Makoto did, but her eyebrows raised slightly to convey. "Good morning, Makoto," she replied, shifting her eyes to the side. "Um... you're up early."
"Ha... alarm trouble," he replied, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "What about you?"
"I don't like to eat in large groups," she replied. "That's why I wake before the others."
"Oh, that's why I don't see you until after breakfast," Makoto nodded. Suddenly, he gave her a bright, enthusiastic smile. "Maybe I was really lucky today then!"
"Why would you say that?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.
"Well, I get to have a nice breakfast with my friend," He beamed. "You want some omelette? I made too much. Hey, are you okay? Your face is a bit red. Do you feel alright?"
Mukuro's turned her scarlet face down slightly, hoping her bangs would hide her embarrassment. "Um... I-I feel fine. I'll have some egg, sure."
The two sat down across from each other and began to eat.
"I'm glad we got to do this," he said, happily. "You're always doing such nice things for me, I hope this lets me repay you at least a little."
Ikusaba stared at the egg on her plate so Makoto couldn't see how much he was wriggling under her skin. "It's nothing."
"I don't think it's nothing," he retorted. "You literally caught me when I fell off the third step the other day." His grin returned. "You're really strong."
"I'm dangerous." She said.
Dangerous was the only adjective Junko allowed Mukuro to have that wasn't synonymous with useless.
"I'm only strong from years of war. Years of death and bloodshed."
She allowed herself to glance up at Makoto, expecting him to be scared or taken aback.
Instead, he was still smiling at her, though his expression softened. "Well, it's true you're a soldier. You've seen stuff I can't even imagine. But moreso than that, you're my friend, and you've always been kind to me. I've never felt scared around you. If anything, you make me feel safe to have around. So I appreciate you."
Makoto barely heard the, "thank you," that escaped Mukuro's lips. It was almost inaudible.
She started joining him and the others in the dining hall at the normal time after that.
Makoto looked at the Mukuro in front of him now, in her disguise. "Well, if you are dangerous, all the better to keep you around if we run into trouble." He offered her a smile.
Little did he know, Mukuro couldn't say no to it. "Alright, Makoto. You win."
The two walked to the laundry room, passing Chihiro on the way. The Programmer looked scared and turned away from the two.
It struck Makoto that if they reset, or lost memories, that no one else would know Chihiro was a male. It was so hard for him to tell us all... I'd hate to have to see him go through that again.
Pushing the thought aside, Makoto was thankful the laundry room was empty. Mukuro jumped as the Ultimate Lucky Student ran forward and quickly turned on each machine, making a loud racket throughout the room.
"What are you...?" She asked, but she froze, as Makoto looked at her with eyes full of resolve and determination. It was a look he didn't have often, but when he did, she knew he would not back down.
"Mukuro." He said, just barely audible above the noise of the machines.
Her eyes widened.
This was not the plan.
She didn't know what to say, so Makoto continued, "Why are you dressed like Junko?"
Mukuro looked around, and said loudly, "Nothing here, Makoto, let's look somewhere else."
As she said that, she had a look on her face that told Makoto not to say anything else.
She turned on her heel and left the laundry room, Makoto in pursuit. To his surprise, she led to the bathhouse area. Hesitantly, he followed her in
It became clear why she chose that room; it was the only room without a camera or monitor.
As he followed her in, Mukuro whipped around, eyes steely and blank. The air around her seemed to chill, and Makoto, for the first time he had ever known her, paused. Maybe this was the aura she gave off on the battlefield, able to instill fear into others. He refused to fear her though; this was the Mukuro he had grown close to over the last two years.
"How did you know it was me?" She asked. Her voice was harsh, and abrasive; which was another tone Makoto had not heard from her.
"Mukuro," he said, slowly, "we've been living here at Hope's Peak for a year. Of course I'd recognize you, even if you're dressed as Junko. Junko doesn't have cute freckles, like you do." His expression turned sheepish. "Sorry, that was a bit much, wasn't it? M-my bad."
Mukuro's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed pink. Not a single soul had ever regarded any feature of hers as cute. Focus, can't get flustered now.
Makoto wasn't able to read her expression. "Do you... not remember either? ... No... that doesn't explain why you're dressed as Junko."
Mukuro tried to improvise, think of some excuse, but Makoto continued. "If you had the same problem as the others, you'd know your name and still dress and act as yourself. No one's personalities changed; they just think it's two years ago. If you're pretending to be Junko..."
She could feel a cold sweat on her back. Makoto could ruin everything. All of Junko's hard work.
"Is Junko... controlling Monokum-ACK!" He grunted as Mukuro lifted him by the collar and slammed him against a locker.
Their eyes met as she held him off the ground.
For the first time, Makoto was looking at Mukuro with fear in his eyes. An invisible knife twisted in Mukuro's chest and stomach. Remorse and guilt filled her being, but she tried to swallow it down.
The two stayed like that, for some time. "So... I'm right." Makoto said, glumly, the fear in his gaze giving away to sadness. "Can you tell me... why you're working with her?"
Steadily, Mukuro replied. "Junko is my sister. We never told anyone."
His eyes widened. "What? Why?"
The soldier grit her teeth. Makoto was an obstacle. A problem. An issue in the game that could ruin everything. She should kill him, just like Junko would want, had told her to do. It would be easy. Her mind went through at least one dozen ways to do that from this position alone.
But it was Makoto. Mukuro could not bring herself to hurt Makoto, and she felt worthless for it. "That's not important." She answered.
"How can it not be?" Makoto replied, eyes regaining some of that steely resolve. "How could you two have taken everyone's memories? Mukuro, she wants us all to kill each other! Are you really okay with this? What's there to gain?"
"We knocked out everyone," Mukuro replied, grimly. "With gas. The procedure was developed by the Ultimate Neurologist, Matsuda Yasuke. It's actually simple, and, supposedly, works with 99.9999% accuracy."
"So I'm the 0.0001%?" Makoto groaned. "Figures. Lucky me."
"As far as your other questions... this is all in the name of Junko's despair."
"Desp - what?" He asked, voice raising in pitch as he asked, confused. "What does that even mean?"
"Junko isn't the Ultimate Fashionista, Makoto," Mukuro explained. Part of her didn't even know why she was. Maybe to delay the inevitable. "She's the Ultimate Despair. Some would say she has a despair compulsion or despair fetish. But while this may be true, it's deeper than that. She exists only to try and feel - and spread - despair."
Makoto's eyes widened. "But that... that's the same as!"
"Yes," Mukuro sighed, "The Biggest, Most Awful Tragedy... was orchestrated by Junko. That's why everything happens in the name of despair."
Makoto absorbed the words and his face twisted into an absolute, broken expression. The soldier couldn't help but think that Junko would have loved to see it.
"So all this time... these last two years... were all lies?" He asked, on the verge of tears.
"Yes. Junko only wanted this despair. It was all a part of her plan."
"Even you?" He asked. The question was pointed, sharp. It chipped away at her own resolve.
"I... I have always been part of her plan," Mukuro answered. "A disappointment like me should be so lucky to help my sister feel anything at all."
"But... you're my friend..." Makoto said, a tear creeping down his cheek.
It hit Mukuro's hand, and a million compulsions ran through her mind. She wanted to pull him close, hold him, tell him she would never let anything happen to him. Tell him that no matter what, she would see he was spared. Kiss him. Get him far, far away from here, where Junko could never hurt him.
She held him to the locker, but looked away. Her eyes were watering. Why were her eyes watering? She'd killed hundreds without a second thought. How does he do this to me?"I... no."
"But all those times you helped me," Makoto insisted, keeping his resolve. "The time you caught me from the stairs. Saved me from the billiard ball."
"Makoto, stop," Mukuro said, quietly.
"- or that time I fell into the pond and you jumped in after me."
"That's enough." Mukuro grumbled.
"Or all the times you ate breakfast with me!" Makoto cried out in anguish. "Was that all part of the plan, Mukuro?"
"NO!" She shouted. A tear ran down the side of her face, and she felt ashamed to let even that small emotion show. "No... it wasn't."
Makoto scanned her face, reading that she was telling the truth. "Then why would you do those things, if it wasn't because you felt the same way too? That we weren't friends?"
Mukuro couldn't take it. She dropped Makoto and took three long strides away from him. This was too much. She wasn't used to all these feelings, and she couldn't handle these swelling emotions in her chest. "I don't know, Makoto."
He stood like that for what felt like hours, staring at her back. He could see her shaking. Whether from rage or sadness, he dare not approach.
Finally, he said, quietly. "Then I believe that the Mukuro I know... the kind, helpful, strong Mukuro... is still in there."
Mukuro let out a scoff of a laugh. "Makoto... You're always so naive. It's not that simple. You know... You KNOW what's happening outside these halls."
He stayed silent for a minute.
"You know what this means. By helping Junko, I'm also part of the larger Ultimate Despair. All the things happening, all over... that's just as much me as it is Junko." She explained.
"It's not too late."
She turned, incredulous. "Excuse me?"
"It's not!" Makoto insisted. "You're here. You can get to Junko. We can stop her! We can fix this!"
"Why would I want to do that?" Mukuro asked. "Why would I stop what Junko wants?"
"What is it YOU want to do?" Makoto retorted, pointing at her for emphasis..
This took Mukuro by surprise, and she stepped back.
"All you've told me is that Junko wants that despair. That you did it for her. Do YOU want this despair? Does it make you happy?" Makoto asked.
The question seemed to knock Mukuro off her feet, both figuratively, and literally as she sat down on a bench in the bath house.
Makoto stared as Mukuro looked down at her feet.
"I... I just wanted to make Junko happy." Mukuro said, finally. "I wanted to give her the Ultimate Despair. I was a means to and end. That's all. A tool."
"If it doesn't make you happy, then I hope you'll reconsider what I said." Makoto frowned.
"What I want has never been the conversation," Mukuro replied, quietly. "Quite frankly, I don't know what I want."
It was another lie.
"You know... I've seen enough anime and read enough manga to know... tools of villains don't always have good endings when they outlive their usefulness." Makoto said, shuffling his feet.
Mukuro looked up. "What does that mean?"
"If you deliver what she wants... what do you think she'll do when her tool isn't needed anymore?"
Mukuro looked back down to her feet. She didn't have an answer. "After all I've said and done... you would still worry about me?"
Makoto sighed. "If what you're saying is true... Junko has hurt any and everyone... Who's to say she won't hurt you? I mean... I'd like to think she wouldn't do that to her sister... but you said she said you're a disappointment."
The soldier said nothing for a while. After a pregnant pause, she said. "Why does that matter?"
"Even with all you said. I still look at you and see a friend. I still see someone I don't want hurt. Even if she thinks you're just a tool..." Makoto replied. "I think... I think you could still be so much more. So please..."
Abruptly, Mukuro stood up to leave.
"What are you doing?" Makoto asked, confused.
Mukuro looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm... not going to betray Junko."
"What are you going to do?" He asked.
She paused, and said. "I... I won't betray you anymore either."
"Huh?" He asked.
"Just be careful, Makoto." She said, quietly. "You might be right. About their being kindness buried in me somewhere. But for now... I just... can't."
Without any further explanation, she left the bathhouse.
Makoto collapsed on the bench and put his head in his hands. "Now what..."
He'd gotten answers, but they didn't bring him any peace. After awhile, he stood up.
He'd have to make his own peace and protect his friends.