Notes: Aaaaaand it's here at last, beautiful readers! The free-time events that you all voted for! I took my sweet time writing these three events and making sure they were up to my standards. The entirety of this story is for my own edification, but it's also my way of entertaining you. This chapter, especially, is made for my beautiful readers! It's important to note that these FTE will be referenced by the rest of the story, so things might turn out very interesting in the long-run, depending on your future choices.

Ah, the future... brimming with possibilities. How have you been handling the Despair and Future of Danganronpa 3? I have to say, I've adopted the mindset of a certain character and just stopped thinking about theories! Each episode surprises and baffles me so! I trust you're handling these things better than I, though.

As always, I encourage you to critique my chapter! Was it good? How could it be improved? All things I want to know! I also appreciate discussions about theories, characters, etc.

With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Until next time, beautiful readers!

Mankind's nature can be understood through semiotics.

The cultivation and blossoming of ideologies can be owed to the symbols created in the collective consciousness of ideologues. Each individual contributes to the furthering of a conceit, and yet each individual is molded by the greater structure they create. In this, man and his beliefs are like the cells within a flower. And as flowers present myriad of hues, so, too, do human collectives dream variegated symbols. The history of Despair is one of turbulent cycles, impetuous whim, and grim acknowledgment of self. The guiding symbol of Despair is Revolving Monochrome.

Hope's flower is different. Observing Hope, its developments are grand: explorers risked life and limb to discover what lay beyond the seemingly finite horizon; artists, inspired by the gifts of sight and nature, sought to replicate and surpass the beauty before them; religious men renounced the limits of human nature and held faith in the ultimate righteousness of existence. Is it any wonder that in the first of days God created the infinite heavens and the endless earth? Creation of the boundless––creation of Monday––could not have occurred were it not for hope.

Hope. The flower of Hope is Boundless Space.

/Makoto\/Ahodori\

"...Ok?"

Makoto closed Hope and the Infinite and shrugged. Whoever understood the nature of Hope like this certainly had a different perspective on life. Hope... is like infinity? He knew it only as an instinct; it was an intense power most potent in dire circumstances, and it awoke in him a state of mind he couldn't quite describe. If there was one message he could connect with in the first page, it was that Hope can do the impossible.

Or almost the impossible. Makoto would have to do something besides hope for the time to pass. He also wasn't keen on continuing the book––he felt a migraine approaching, and doing something else could assist in digesting the material.

Makoto exited his house and looked around his little cul-de-sac. The Expanse greeted itself with an opaque fog at the boundaries of an increasingly familiar jagged path. It was a strange environment, both more and less vibrant than a colorful school's hallways and barricaded windows. Whistling a tune that he couldn't quite recall the name of (but recalled it playing in happier days), he stepped down from his porch and wandered down the path.

Makoto's meandering made him a guest to a shrill but upbeat buzzing somewhere nearby. He kept whistling along, noticing how well the tune complemented his own beat. Feeling a bit more spring in his steps, he moved on to different things. Then, just as he passed one of the many houses on the path, it stopped. He halted his walk and his whistling and turned. An image of another house appeared to him.

A minute or so passed before Makoto faced the path again. He shrugged and took a step forward. A click echoed in his ear, and he turned again, a bemused expression on his face. The house's porch had an occupant now, whose blue eye he could discern was closed as she leaned on a railing.

A smile emerged on Makoto's face, and he followed the neatly bricked road to Ahodori with gusto. The air became more damp and cold as he moved down the road, with his breath thickening into little vapors halfway through. He had to thank the Future Foundation's verdict of him for his newfound resilience: after more than a few nights sleeping on some cold pavement in a drenched suit, this was a luxury to the senses. She hadn't opened her eye yet or done anything to suggest she noticed his approach. A moment's deliberation led him to stand a respectable distance from her and wait.

Ahodori slowly nodded and stood, turning to Makoto. Her chest swelled and relaxed once, then she opened her eye. A hand shot up to cover her concealed mouth.

"... Makoto," Ahodori said.

Makoto waved a hand, still smiling. "Hi, Ahodori."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing in particular. I just wanted to check up on you. I ate breakfast with everyone earlier. We... learned a lot of weird things."

Her hands retreated to her coat. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

He put a hand up in protest. "It's alright. You were amazing yesterday, so you've done enough. In any other scenario, the problem would have been over."

She chuckled. "I suppose if life had to throw a 'squid' at me to slow me down, I must be doing something right."

He nodded. "You're right! Have you always been that..."

"That... fast, strong, or skilled? Yes, on all counts."

"Ha! I was expecting you to be more modest." He softened his voice. "I'm happy to see your mood improve, though."

"My apologies." She shook her head. "My little surprise is still affecting me. Music always cheers me up..."

He tilted his head. "Music? I heard some when I was passing by. It's why I managed to find you here. Were you playing some?"

Her eye widened. "You..." She recomposed herself. "I'm getting sloppy if I didn't notice you sneaking up on me... rat."

"J-just an honest stroke of luck, is all! Haha..." A weak grin was plastered on his face. "No amount of luck in the world can save me from that glare!"

"Relax." She huffed. "You're more like a pigeon, anyway. Hide played my favorite song on his kazoo."

"Oh, that makes sense." He wrapped a hand on his chin. "Since you brought Hide back with you after the 'meeting', he probably wanted to repay the favor."

"That he did." If his eyes were not deceiving him, a little coating of pink teased its presence on the sliver of pale skin underneath her eye. "He waited all night at my bedside, just so he could play for me when I woke up."

"You two are really close." He smiled. "Like family."

She closed her eye. "Aren't we all family: Hide would say that. His youth is charming."

"He's right, though: you're family to the 79th class. You're willing to risk your life for them, and Daisuke even calls you 'ma'!"

"More of a Godmother, really." She tapped a finger on her cheek. "I did tell him to climb up a Giant Sequoia when he was younger, though, and his mother always told me I gave birth to a monster that day. Not my finest hour, but I guess that explains that?"

"Why did you...?" He shook the astonishment from his mind. "So, you know his mom?"

"... I..." she stared at her hand, "know all of their parents."

"Really?" He approached her.

"Yes... but I don't remember many details."

His shoulders slugged down, but he still moved closer. "It must have been Monokuma and his supervisor. Our class can't remember what the kids do, and vice versa." He sighed. "Ultimate Despair... Via Desperatio... what is the truth?"

"Via Desperatio is a name I can never forget." She leaned on the railing as Makoto stopped next to her. "I have forgotten many things, though..."

"..." He leaned on the railing as well and found himself staring at her bandaged face. "I wish I could help you with your memories. Especially the one that squid brought up. I couldn't hear what he said––his words were hidden by a scream like a siren. But… If it helps any, I've forgotten some important things in my life, too."

"... Like what?"

"My best friends from Hope's Peak Academy." Memories floated back to him, each so cold to the touch but each he held like still warm embers. "It's funny: even without memories, things didn't really change. The noble ones still sacrificed themselves; the aggressive ones still picked fights; and me––well, I was still a sentimental guy..."

"...!"

Makoto recoiled back, swearing on the fragments of his higher mind that he was dreaming. An absurd event like this couldn't be anything more than a lie: according to his eyes and ears, the enigmatic Ahodori Kuroashi was laughing a girlish giggle not at all apt for her dark spirit and sealed body. That body, too, was all wrong––how she held her head back, reaching out with bold hands and like a starry-eyed child for when the bandages that fettered her to unknown regrets would finally be unraveled; that was all wrong, for she didn't need to search for the freedom she already was.

"Sentimental!" Ahodori exclaimed in-between fits of laughter. "That... that was it! I remember... I remember something!"

"A-Ahodori?" Makoto tapped a finger on his reddening cheek. "You, uh, still with me?..."

Before he could even register time's movement, he jerked forward: his tie had been yanked by the firm grasp of a gloved hand. He looked up and gazed into an azure eye. "More than you know."

"... Ah...?"

"Makoto, do you want to get flowers?"

He vigorously rubbed a hand on his neck. Things weren't looking too hot: his neck felt just as flushed as his hands. "W-wow, ok! I mean, not a, 'yes, absolutely!' ok––which isn't to say I'm not ok with getting flowers with you but––" her domineering eye burrowed further in him, "––Argh! Ok! Ok!"

"Good! A strong affirmative!" She let go of his tie and immediately headed inside her house. "I'll be back in a second!"

"..." He could only stand and stare dully at the house's railings and the fog beyond them. He heard some muted clanks, a muffled conversation wherein one participant sounded drowsier than the other, and, eventually, a firm click.

"Ahod-Gah!" He heaved a flower pot from his feet up to his chest. It wasn't so heavy, once he could prepare himself!

"Are you ready?" She displayed another pot in one hand and a shovel in the other. "Because I am."

"... Why do you have a shovel?"

"Why don't you have a shovel?! I'm prepared for anything!"

"... Riiiight. And why flowers?"

She spun the shovel energetically, stopping the near blur just at the moment its blade would scrape his sweaty nose. "It's... because flowers are sentimental!"

He gulped at the fine tip of the shovel. "S-sentimental...?"

"Yes! They are..." she put the shovel down and paused, "... a symbol of love! Of life's beauty! That was what the most important person in my life taught me!"

"Sure?" He hid himself in the inside of a fairly inert pot. "Can I ask why I have a pot?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The pot in her hand twirled over the motion of her finger. "Since you helped me remember something, you deserve a symbol of my appreciation."

A cool streak of sweat flowed down his forehead as he forced a smile. "Y-you really don't have to give me a flower! And besides, would this creepy place even have flowers?"

"Stop talking, Makoto," she said matter-of-factly. "We're surrounded by wilderness and trees––flowering plants are to be expected. And, you know, the flower's just the end goal. I really just want to search."

"..."

She gave him her sparkling eye, flowing with a now familiar energy. "You could say that's my hope."

"..." He looked down at his pot again, then looked back up to her powerful eye. Its azure hue reminded him of something. His hands moved on their own, shifting the now weightless pot to one hand and placing the other over his now warm chest.

"You know what?"

"What?"

He smiled. "Your hope is my hope."

She descended down to ground level. "Then what are you waiting for? The journey's not happening without you."

He held the pot up on his shoulder as he took his first steps down. "I wouldn't have it any other way!"

"Ok, maybe this journey thing was a little romanticized..." Makoto said.

"No, you're just too weak." Ahodori scoffed. "Hide could handle this in his sleep."

He gritted his teeth as he stomped through the muddy ground underneath him and peered at a claustrophobic fog. "I am not Hide."

Makoto and Ahodori's trek to the woods reminded Makoto much of his time in South America: too moist, isolated, and dangerous for his tastes. He could hear the odd cry or roar of beasts in the vast distance, and the warmth he had fostered earlier evaporated the instant they became audible. She assured him that the noises could not have originated anywhere close by and that the fog's obscuring of his primary sense distorted his perception of the other four, but that was little comfort. He noted how mud-caked his shoes had gotten and wondered who in their right mind would introduce her to this hobby-slash-passion.

"Yes, but Hide needs role models, and, as an adult, you're one of his role models," Ahodori declared.

"I'm only 21, though. I barely qualify as an adult!" Makoto protested.

"21? That's old enough." Her brisk pace slowed. "I was that old when..."

The deep fog meant that Makoto had to hug the area across from Ahodori, so was close enough to notice her steps erode into shambles and her hands begin to tremble. "Ahodori?"

His words came out just at the moment she would have stopped. He had moved ahead of her, so he turned around. Her grip on her tools seemed tighter than ever, and, in the next second, the force of her sprint carried him along. "Thank you."

His face curled into a smile even as he was almost deserted in the brown plain. "What'd I do this time?"

"... You reminded me that the most important person in my life would laugh if they saw me this flustered."

"Who is this most important person, anyway?"

The squishes of feet meeting mud quieted, as did the howls of things unknown. "... I remember..." her voice more absorbing than it had any right to be as a murmur, "bunnies?"

"... Bunnies? That's it?" He shook his head. It wouldn't be right to probe further into her unclear memories, but the mystery disappointed him nonetheless. The fog began to dissipate at this point of their conversation, revealing blurry black outlines meters away, blank rock faces piercing through the gray veil, and an increasingly verdant ground at the outskirts of the mist. Heat returned to his slightly numb hands and feet while a breath of relief escaped his lips.

"Who's the most important person in your life?"

He glanced at her with wide eyes. "That's... a really hard question to answer. Hm..."

She turned to him, her blue eye scanning his body. "If I'm allowed to guess, I'd say someone as average as you would pick their parents."

"A-average?!"

"It's a compliment. Sometimes the extraordinary is anything but good."

"I think I get what you're saying. Yeah, my parents were––are––always in my thoughts." He chuckled. "I'm sure they're looking out for me and my sis right now."

She nodded. "Sister, huh."

"Yup. If you think I'm something, you should check out my sister: she's the real hero of the family. She fought tooth and nail through some huge challenges." He paused. "Just, ah, keep that between you and me. I'm still the older brother, so I have to at least try and compete with her, y'know?"

"Hm..." She spun the shovel idly. "Can't say I do. But, sure. It's our little secret."

"Phew! But seriously, though my family's an obvious choice, it's not quite accurate to say they're the most important people in my life..." He lifted his face up. "... The friends I made in Hope's Peak matter just as much to me. I wouldn't even be here if they hadn't placed their trust in me and I hadn't placed my trust in them, and we've only grown closer over time."

"Sounds... familiar."

"It should––the 79th class are just like us, I think. Really, at this point, I can't give you a straight answer for the most important person in my life: everyone's important, in their own way."

"Sounds very familiar."

"Does it?"

"Search your memories, or it will come to you in a dream."

He sighed. "That's the third non-answer I've gotten today."

She planted the shovel into the ground and stopped. "And it'll be your last, if you can find a good flower for me."

He stopped as well and observed the area. "Yup. Looks like we're here."

The dispersal of the fog which had hitherto hidden the wood also signaled significant progress on the two's journey, but Makoto gathered that there was yet more to be done. At the mouth of the sparse forest were many large rocks with buds of dew and sprinklings of mildew stuck almost deliberately around a made path. Grass grew everywhere outside and inside the forest's seemingly endless base. Trees as black as midnight loomed over him, their trunks unmarred but their branches barren, and those branches twisted and turned around each other so tightly that the sky disappeared behind them. All was still.

Ahodori approached Makoto and stood to his right. She stacked her own pot on top of his and looked straight ahead, then clenched her free hand around the shovel.

"Stay right behind me," Ahodori whispered. Makoto nodded soberly.

The two crept into the forest. Without light, Makoto grew more dependent on his deep breaths, like bellows of something fearsome inside this stagnant place, to keep track of himself against the willowy shadows sliding further into his vision. He felt the coarse fabric of Ahodori's coat against his hands and wondered about the battles that worn coat had lived through; it certainly persevered over someplace frigid, as what else could explain the feeling spreading on his hands as they rubbed against its icy, sinewy surface?

A hoot echoed from somewhere, nearly causing Makoto to drop his pots. He did not make even a squeak, however: Ahodori's hush, prodigious in its pygmy volume, entombed whatever he could possibly utter. He would not dare to speak, and he was using his ears only to counteract the pounding drum in his chest through the steady breaths in front of him, so he fell back on sight and touch. Compared to the tepid touch of his pots, the surface he felt on his hands' backs was more engaging––alive and always in minute but identifiable flux. The trees clustered more and more the deeper he went inside the forest, and though the lighting was abysmal, he saw signs of life in red leaves popping out of the once bare trees. Surreal as it was, he couldn't deny the forest was interesting.

What surprised him was just serene he was when it came to him: as he passed from one image of a red-leafed tree to the next, two tiny orbs stood out in the corners. He saw them, one azure dot in union with one saffron speck in the sea of dark green grass, but he did not examine them. He stopped and stared at the back of his companion, an almost childish confusion on his countenance.

"You don't see it?" Makoto asked.

Ahodori turned her head to the side, giving Makoto a skeptical eye. When he did not react at her gaze, she took deliberate steps towards him. Her shovel dangled in her hand as she followed his example and observed the field off the path. A moment of tranquility passed.

Ahodori gasped. "How did you...?"

Makoto shrugged. "I just did."

Before Makoto could blink, Ahodori stood at the area with the dots, beckoning him to follow. He drifted to her position, somehow soothed from his earlier anxiety regarding the potential dangers surrounding him. His eyes were stuck on the two azure spheres ahead of him and on their saffron companion.

The goal of their trip to the woods did not lay beneath Makoto now; rather, two flowers, in happy serendipity, discovered themselves here. One flower's azure petals raised out around its cooler blue core, as though it was stretching to grasp the entirety of reality itself. The other flower, in contrast, seemed to cherish its saffron hue, as its petals grew more radiant in color the more they ascended inward their vibrant pith. He handed Ahodori one pot and rested his next to the saffron flower.

What a strange time, strange place, and strange reason to marvel the beauty of a flower.

Ahodori had informed Makoto of how to pot a flower during their walk, so they went to work without hassle. She handled the shovel work with delicacy, using only the finest of movements and digs to excavate each flower intact. He grabbed some rocks nearby and placed them into each pot, then added fresh soil she had dug out. When both pots were ready, he and she carefully placed the flowers into their pots. After they had both took turns patting down the dirt in each pot, they knew it was time to return. The flowers would need to be watered, after all.

When it dawned on Makoto that he had just survived a trek through woods that frightened the (admittedly antsy) ultimate explorer, he laughed.

"Don't laugh so much," Ahodori ordered, her hands embracing the pot containing the azure flower and her shovel trapped between her arm and body. "You might drop yours."

Makoto stopped, though a smile remained on his face. "Sorry, I was just thanking my luck again."

"It was surprisingly peaceful. I didn't have to use this shovel for anything more than digging."

"You sure that would be a good weapon against whatever lives there?"

"Frankly, my hands would be good enough."

He didn't need to skim his memory to respond. "That's... accurate."

The Expanse lay behind them now, and the comforting sight of brick buildings snuck out from the fog. Makoto didn't know how much time he had spent with Ahodori, but his sore feet told him that that was enough action for one day. As they neared Enoshima, a question popped up in his mind.

"Hey, which flower do you want?" Makoto asked.

"The one I'm carrying," Ahodori replied.

"You sure? I definitely like this one, but I'm not calling dibs or anything."

"No..." she looked the other way, "I think that flower suits you more. And this flower suits me."

"Huh." He took a second to glance at her flower. "I think it does, too. Matches your eye."

"... That's true." She quickly adjusted her pitch. "But there's more to it. My flower is searching and grows more beautiful as it seizes the day. I think it and I also have that in common."

His eyes widened. "I never thought of that. So," he gazed at the saffron heart of his flower, "does that mean you think my flower resembles me?"

"Of course," she replied. "Your life glows in other's eyes, and the more they understand you, the more it becomes clear your light attracts them because you are simple but pure."

"W-wow, that's nice of you to say!" He felt his cheeks redden. "I appreciate it, though. If you think that's how I am, I don't want to prove you wrong."

They were back inside the town, the path to her house next to them. "Your response proves it."

He smirked. "If you say so!"

The cul-de-sac emerged, and Makoto headed to his house without a care in the world. As he went up some steps, Ahodori followed him.

"Hm?" Makoto turned to Ahodori. "What's up?"

Ahodori tilted her head. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, this is my house. I thought you had something you wanted to say."

She jerked, causing the shovel to fall clumsily on the porch. "Your house? Did I get distracted again...?"

"Looks like it." He smiled. "That isn't too bad, though: it means I can say thanks! For the flower, and for the company!"

"...Right." She chuckled. "Yes, as I've said before: thank you, Makoto."

"Don't mention it!"

She picked up her shovel and faced away from him. "By the way... If you need some help taking care of your flower, I'll be around." She stepped down and turned her face towards him. "Goodbye."

"I'll keep that in mind." He put his flower down and opened his door. Before he disappeared through it, he waved at her. "Seeya!"

Once Makoto was inside, he made his way to the guest room again and rested. He laid the flower on the table, behind Hope and the Infinite. On a whim, he looked through it. Rereading the first page, he smiled.

"Hope is a boundless flower, ready to be the infinite," Makoto mused.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

|Kyoko||Lemeza|

Earthy with a fruity element to it. Aged wood with a polished gleam and darkness nestled in small crevices under an orange light. Even heat rested over a cool body. Bitter tingles with a piquant aftertaste. Crackling and popping.

All senses operated at expected efficiencies. Therefore, Kyoko Kirigiri could proceed as she should: orchestrating a full synthesis of her individual senses to gather together what each could not perceive alone.

It had been two days since Kyoko's arrival in Enoshima. In those two days, neither sleep nor trepidation accosted her in an investigation of the area and its inhabitants, and at least trepidation had not been a factor for today's work. With one last cup of coffee before the coming of Night-Time––she had acquired a working intuition for the passing of time, since the e-handbooks only notified the user of the status of the day and her time-keeping devices had disappeared––she reviewed her observations.

The town and the coffee had one more in common than a cursory comparison would suggest. This much was clear to Kyoko even before the sweet vapors from her coffee sent sparks into her mind. Soil was an important connection between the two, for one thing. Her coffee was high quality due to the seeds likely growing in fecund ground, and this town was rustic due to its good soil. The humidity of a vast body of water touched both soils. The land Enoshima stood on was identical in characteristic to the temperate ground of New England. She'd been there before; all worthy detectives had to visit that location at least once.

Kyoko saw her reflection on her coffee's still surface, dark as a moonless night, She was pale, so her reflection shone particularly bright against the darkness. It was unlike the unerring bulb behind the clouded skies above Enoshima. That bulb's glow was sickly and its position arbitrary. Yes, arbitrary. The moon and sun followed natural orders and patterns, so that bulb and its redundant light were anything but natural. But the soil outside and its smell? Authentic.

Kyoko circled her gloved finger along her coffee cup. As expected, it was entirely cool to the touch. She recalled the various occasions she had watched Makoto struggle to keep a hold of a fresh brew of coffee for her. It was a shame that he could now handle the task with ease; it was a good thing that he also seemed unaffected by the tepid touch of this town's breeze, though. It meant that this place's weather really was out-of-sync with its smell and appearance. No place is New England, a grimly lit office, and a defective fridge at once. Why, if she had to guess, this 'place' was no place at all. Rather, it was a…

Footsteps approached. Tap-tap, tap-tap. Kyoko's sights darted to the entrance of the tavern's interior and stuck to it. She knew who it was––no mistaking It.

"This'll be easier than North Sentinel Island." A voice let out a confident laugh. "Those apples are mine––"

"..."

"..."

Lemeza Go was a corpse. Kyoko of all people could attest to that fact. Frankly, she preferred this dead silence to the other noises that frequented him.

"M-M-MISS D-DETECTIVE!" Lemeza shrieked. "P-PLEASE EXCUSE ME! I––I JUST CAME FOR SOME F-F-FOOD! I'M SORRY FOR DISTURBING YOU!"

Kyoko eased her glare if only to spare her already sore ears. "Good evening. You didn't disturb me."

"A-ah…" He ruffled his hair. "A-are you sure? I t-think, I think I have."

"How so?"

He crawled from the doorway to the sideboard, his eyes everywhere but on her. "Y-you're, uh… you're w-w-wrong. About the time of day."

"I'm confident it's around evening." She looked at the sideboard. "You'd better get your apples before it's Night-Time."

"N-no." He shifted his head from right to left with barely enough movement to qualify as a shake. "I-it's just around a-a-afternoon." His eyes livened up a second later. "I c-c-can, I can provide evidence for it! With an… experiment!"

She slowly put a finger up to her chin. "Experiment?"

His jittery hands grasped at the first round object it could grasp on the sideboard and moved it to his mouth. He stared at the apple with a small smile on his face. "I-if I… by the time w-we s-stop talking and it's still not Night-Time, t-then I can––it can show you that it's the afternoon."

"... Ok."

He nearly dropped the apple in his hand. "R-Really?!"

"If you think I'm mistaken, then what harm is there in testing me?"

"T-this––this!" He hurled the apple upward, shooting it to the ceiling of the two-story tavern. As he did this, his other hand clenched his face, leaving only a shining smile uncovered. Just as the apple was about to fall on the sideboard, his hand retrieved it with the speed of a black mamba. He removed his hand from his face, showing off a glimmer in his eyes before taking a mighty chomp on his apple. "This is it! I'm about to show the ultimate detective what I'm made of!"

Kyoko noted this personality shift, though not with her usual impartiality. She sighed to herself but kept her expression unmoved. There was more than one reason she accepted Lemeza's challenge, so she prepared herself to lead the conversation.

"Former ultimate detective. And it's just a title," Kyoko corrected.

"... You're r-right," Lemeza said. "B-but, whatever! You're still a detective!"

"I am." She took a sip of her coffee. An interesting array of flavors washed over her tongue. "Do you like apples?"

"Huh?" He moved to the table and sat facing her. He leaned on the back of his chair with a bit of vigor, and his chest was less guarded than the previous times she had seen him. "Yes. Y-you noticed?"

"Yes." She brushed some hair to the side. "Before entering, you said that you specifically wanted the apples. Additionally, you were quite distressed when Emilia didn't give you your apple yesterday."

"A-ah! O-of, of course y-you'd n-n-notice! You're the ultimate detective, that'd be the easiest of deductions to make!" He took another, more modest bite of his apple. "I'm… I'm taking the i-initiative, now. E-Emily's been hoarding them from me, s-so I'm taking the initiative."

Kyoko nodded. Emilia Lugosi, nicknamed Emily by Lemeza. She didn't make the best first impression, and her skills with gore effects would have to be kept in mind. That she seemed close to him did not help matters, either. Perhaps, if Kyoko played her cards right, he could do some of the leg work for her.

"Has Emilia always been that way?" Kyoko asked.

Lemeza gulped air. "I… I guess s-so. Not that that's a bad thing! H-honestly, she's a, she's a life-saver."

"Life-saver? What makes you say that?"

Another nibble. "W-well, you know how courage is doing or facing s-something, no matter how s-scared you are of i-it? Y-yeah, I'm not a... I'm not a courageous guy."

"I wouldn't say that. You stood your ground when Ahodori destroyed Monokuma."

"T-that… that doesn't c-count. I was," he sighed, "I wasn't afraid. At all. N-not a bit."

"You're telling me seeing a mechanical bear that suggested you kill your friends be torn apart while most everyone else panicked didn't affect you at all?" She let out a smirk. "You're quite on top of things, then."

He giggled. "Y-yup! I'm a s-smooth o-operator! And it's thanks to Emily! Y-you can't get scared of something if y-you're u-used to it! A-and, and she gets me used to e-everything."

"... Even a mechanical bear with a squid?"

"... T-Terror of Coakley Avenue got pretty w-weird after the first three s-sequels..."

She held her resolve to not respond with an eye roll. "If you say so. I'm not much of a movie-goer."

He raised a shaky eyebrow. "N-no, no movies? B-but…"

"But?"

He averted eye contact, looking down at his legs. "She looks just like…" he muttered to himself.

Fine-tuned senses were both a blessing and an impediment: Kyoko never really got used to the fetid cadavers and malodorous fumes of chemicals, for example; on the other hand, she was always privy to whatever 'private' whispers a person of interest might have. This conversation with Lemeza highlighted both elements of this trait she had, but there was more to be done. She waited for his response.

Lemeza lifted his head up. The blush on his face stood out immediately. "..."

Kyoko stared at him. "..."

Under the homely sea of orange, she could see two sparkling pearls developing in the corners of his eyes. "I… I… c-can't. Ican't. Ican'tIcan'tIcan't––"

"Lemeza."

He jolted in his seat with a yip. After slowly reworking himself back into his original posture, she noted a certain lightness to his previously crunched shoulders. "... Yes?"

"Am I really that scary to you?"

He nodded. As he did, the pearls from before sunk down his tan, boyish face.

"I see." She gazed at the opaque surface of her coffee. "Let me ask you another question: do you think detectives don't feel fear?"

The question birthed something within Lemeza. Beyond the glint in his brown eyes, beyond the viselike grip on his apple, beyond the sudden rocketing of his body over his chair, burnt a vigor in him so intense, she had to reel back in spite of her guard.

"Is that even a question?! The only thing detectives don't know is fear itself! Hercule Poirot, the unflappable genius who solves mysteries with a smile! Leonard Diamond, a no-nonsense police detective who brings down the sickest crime boss around! And the," Lemeza panted, "and the Kirigiri clan, miss detective, the Kirigiri clan! You could look at death itself and laugh! Without fear, your family set the standard for every other amateur around!"

"... You're right on one part," Kyoko allowed herself one controlled laugh, "we can laugh at death's face."

"I-I am?!" He pumped his fists. "Wow, d-detectives really are the best! I'm gonna write this down in my jour––"

"We laugh because we're afraid, you know."

His eyes widened. "W-what?"

She crossed her arms. "Detectives are people, too, and people aren't robots. Earlier, you said you weren't a courageous person. I thought that was odd. When I look back on my past, I see nothing but a scared girl forced to deal with the consequences of actions she wouldn't want to dream of doing. Do you think detectives don't know fear? On the contrary: one of the things we're most intimate of is fear. It's the mother of imagination, I think."

"B-but, you looked so… you looked s-so c-composed and indifferent to scary things… I've seen p-people. People c-can't face fear. W-when they stare it i-in the eye, they f-flinch back. I-I know what makes the s-special people special: they d-don't feel fear. It's why, it's why I'm the best explorer around! I let fear punch me in the face until it's gone, and then I can do what I want!"

"Wrong. People face fear all the time––children face fear all the time. Only the most detached child can break from their parents without thinking, in the back of their minds, how frightening it is to not have someone constantly watching over them. Sure, they grow out of it, but only after they act in spite of their fear. As for me? I simply don't publicize my feelings unless needed. Ultimately, I accept fear." She narrowed her eyes. "It's something you should do too, especially when you're braver than you think."

"... I'm, I'm not… not courageous… a-anything, anything I do is d-done without f-fear."

"Lemeza, I just said that we detectives know fear." She smiled. "We can see it a mile away. You're absolutely filled with it. Back with Monokuma, and now with me."

"N-no!" He tapped his teeth on his apple. "I am not scared!"

"You are scared. Otherwise, you wouldn't have stood your ground."

"..."

"Did you want your friends to be hurt by Monokuma?"

"N-never!"

"Right. So, fear for your friends' safety made you risk your life. And, unless I've misread you, you aren't looking to die soon."

"U-um… no. Dying i-is not what I want."

"Why are we having this conversation? It's because I think it's going to be Night-Time, right? If you couldn't care less about me, why should you care about what I think the time is?"

"B-but, but I don't want you to be wrong…" He breathed. "If you went investigating in unauthorized areas during Night-Time, you might… get hurt."

"And that concern you're feeling for me? That's fear. And you're acting because of and in spite of your fear."

Lemeza stared at Kyoko for a long while. The fire's crackle faded away before her conclusion. He sat down, his face crunched inward and downcast. She kept staring at him.

"... I really am too arrogant." Lemeza sighed. "If I was your Moriarty, I wouldn't last a second."

"Don't cut yourself short just yet," Kyoko said. "There's still your experiment."

He nodded. "Oh, forgot about that, I guess. Huh… I think we've been talking for a while, actually."

"So why not get our results?" She pulled out her e-handbook. He followed with his. Two deliberate taps of the screen came from each person.

DAY-TIME

Kyoko's eyes widened. She grasped her head, feeling her brain pulsate within her skull. With ruthless scrutiny, she filtered superfluous information from her mind to find the source of her error. Nothing. Her mind was in sync, as far as she recalled. She inched her hand towards her coffee––

Ah. Coffee. There was something she hadn't considered. Caffeine, though effective for preventing the setbacks of short-term sleep deprivation, was just as capable of harming a person's mental capabilities, especially after 48 hours awake.

"Just as I thought," Lemeza said. "I've been to too many places and time-zones to not keep my clock in check."

"... See?" Kyoko shook her head, a smile on her face. "You've surprised me in more ways than one today."

"I, uh, I try." He ruffled his hair again, blush returning.

"I think, with this revelation, I should get some sleep." She stood up, disposed of her coffee, and went to the exit. "Before I go, can you tell me what's interesting about me not watching movies?"

"A-ah?! Y-you still remember t-that?! Uh, uh…"

"Don't think you need to be fearless. Just be brave. Detective's orders."

"... You're right, again." He chuckled. "Well, uh, I just thought it was weird, 'cause… you'd fit, you'd fit right in a film noir."

"... That's not a bad comparison to make. I enjoy that genre."

"R-really?! T-that's awesome!"

"I believe we should continue this discussion in the future." She turned to him once last time. "Thanks for fixing my error."

"T-thank you, miss detective. Seriously. I need to think about what you said… about fear and courage."

"Keep in mind one more thing: there's a difference between not showing your emotions and not having emotions."

And with that, Kyoko left. She had gathered more than what she needed from Lemeza. She had also imparted more than she expected on him. He was still a person of interest, as were all the individuals in this strange town (including herself), but she felt an odd obligation to him now. She would be ready the next time she crossed paths with her new fan: both to provide a helping hand and receive the helping hand. Above all, though, she would keep her senses acute. From behind her, she knew It was near.

And It scared her.

\Yasuhiro/\Asami/

The time had come. The time of divinity's realization had come; the time of proven merit had come; the time of easy profit had come; the time of clever trickery had come.

Most importantly, Yasuhiro Hagakure's time of sweet, sweet payback had come.

"Haha!" Hiro released his pen from his mighty hold, its mark on his notebook made. "Mark Twain, eat your heart out!"

Wait, was it Mark Twain who wrote that cool opening sentence for that one book? Hiro was pretty sure it was Mark Twain. A face of an elderly, bald male with a cool beard appeared in his mind: he looked like Santa Claus. Was that Mark Twain or was it the real writer of the book? Was it neither or was it both? He considered all possibilities. Then he promptly dismissed them all as silly second-guessing. How could he be wrong in a time like this?

Besides, Hiro thought as he swaggered from his bedroom, his handwriting was so perfect, he could have written complete nonsense and it'd have been a work of art. Three days trapped in this creepy place, reliving a game he still wished was just a bad nightmare, had inspired him to look back on his numerous positive qualities. He was a charming, sexy adult––this was clear when Byakuya dragged him to the breakfast meetings so people wouldn't miss him. Choosing a house like this, with its full-on library of esoteric texts and scented candles, must have been a result of his great intellect. When he reached his front door, ready to exit, he thanked his instincts directing him to his future.

The fortune Hiro had divined was clear: he saw, in a snapshot, his pockets with thirty extra notes in them, and a pink-haired chick running to embrace him with open arms. Only one girl here had pink hair, and he had warned her already that he always has the last laugh.

Hiro observed the outdoors in front of him and groaned. Somehow, this town whose name Hiro didn't know or want to know was even more gloomy than Hope's Peak and Towa City. How do you make a place creepier than blood red skies and a claustrophobic building? By making it look like Silent Hill!

"Least there aren't any evil cults this time!" Hiro cheered. He smirked, confident that all that talk about Ultimate Despair and Via Desperwhatever was junk.

"Evil cults? What have you been smoking, bro?"

Hiro pivoted to the voice's source and prepared himself with the finest martial arts he knew. Hands effectively covering his war-ready face, he couldn't see what was there. When his nerves eased, he dropped his guard to see Asami Seishin, recumbent on the top of his porch's railing and rabbit curled up on her abdomen, laughing obnoxiously.

"Argh!" Hiro clamped his hands on his ears. "Y-you're really loud, y'know?!"

"Pot calling the teapot black, right there," Asami said as she leapt to her feet, snickering.

"Wait a sec…" he thought. "The saying's, 'Pot calling the kettle black', actually."

She waved a hand. "Maybe in the past, but I'm a trendsetter."

"Yeah, totally. 'Cause changing one word makes it unique."

"You got it!" She tipped her jeweled hat. "Great artists steal with style."

"Nah, not re––Hey! I ain't loud at all!"

"Sure you are, I could hear you talkin' about Mark Twain from out here! Nice tastes in books, if you read him."

He held his head in his hands. "Ugh. What do you want, Asami?"

Asami twirled on her stage boots like a five-year-old girl in a flower field. Looking at her spin, Hiro felt a slight smile slip through his stern expression. If he had to guess, the girl in front of him wasn't any older than 16 (in spite of her rocking body), and she was making the most of her youth. Hell, if they weren't trapped here and if this wasn't a game where she was encouraged to kill him, he'd tell her to have some fun with the other kids. Eventually, she came to a stop.

"Well," Asami said, "I'm here to make a business arrangement."

The images in Hiro's mind of smiling kids and happy days turned into flashing money signs and green rain. "Business arrangement? You've come to the right place and at the right time!" He bowed. "I, Yasuhiro Hagakure, am here for you and you alone!"

She stuck out the tip of her tongue. "Who said I was making a deal with you?"

"Destiny, kid! I can shine a light on the mysteries of the universe with an accuracy rate of 30 percent!"

"30 percent?" She smothered her quivering chest as another fit of laughter broke out from her. "Someone call Penn and Teller, 'cause I smell some bunk!"

"Not to worry," he grinned, "I knew you were going to say that. You occult types always try and put an honest businessman down: so, I'm just gonna prove it to you with a free prediction of things to come."

"Free, huh? There'll probably be interest..." She shrugged. "Eh, not gonna lie, I came here to see if the 'Ultimate Clavoriyant' title meant anything. So yeah, I'm down, tell me the goods."

"Good choice!" He massaged his forehead with the tips of his fingers, humming some mysterious mantra. "Ah… I see it now: you will come and hug me with arms wide open, and I'll have thirty extra notes in my pockets!"

Hiro congratulated himself as he stood with pride. Yeah, he just reused the fortune from earlier, but what the customer didn't know didn't hurt her. When he opened his eyes, though, the only thing he could read off of Asami's slow clap and sneer was disrespect and a dim future for this conversation.

"Shit, bro, you could at least try and make your bogus exciting," Asami said. "Y'know, I guess I'll give you points for making a prediction that can easily be taken out of context." She winked. "Take me out to dinner and show me some moolah, and you might get your 'hug'."

Hiro bared his teeth and pointed at her. "What the hell, chick?! You're the one who's going to show me some money! And I ain't hungry for dinner, especially if you want me to pay!" He crossed his arms and held his head up. "And to think, I was going to offer you a discount love fortune as a treat––"

"Wait."

Hiro, refusing to relax his raised head, glanced at Asami. She was stiff, with her red lips stuck in a neutral expression but her hands clenched, and she was gazing right at him. Their eyes met and his became affixed to hers. He readjusted himself, put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"I'm interested in seeing my love fortune," Asami said calmly. "I have thirty in bills available right now. If that isn't enough, we can arrange for a late payment––with interest."

Hiro took a step back. "W-whoa, talk about a personality shift…" He pushed his glasses up and grunted. "But no worries. A businessman knows when to forgive and forget. I'm feeling generous, so just hand me the thirty and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Before Hiro could rethink his words, Asami took off her top hat, dived a hand into it, and retrieved a pinkish blue wallet from within. With almost mechanical awkwardness, she walked to him and picked through her wallet, never once breaking sight on him. After he plucked some money she had offered him with a still hand, she hovered underneath him.

Hiro shifted through the bills one more time. "Thirty bucks, alright." He frowned. "Not usually a guy who pokes around these things, but you seem pretty invested in this service."

"Yeah, I am," Asami said. "I just… need to know my chances with someone."

"Sure, I gotcha. Kids have their hormones on the fritz and all." He paused. "Oh, but, uh… try not to get to get too interested in one person. Obsessive feelings screw everyone over."

She shook her head. "It's more than hormones, but I appreciate the concern. It sounds like you know from experience."

"Not my experience, but… someone I know had that problem. Believe it or not, but I nearly got killed by that person because of it!"

"... I'm promising I'm not like that."

He laughed. "Nice, looks like you two are more different than I thought! So, you got any details you want me to know before I start, of do you want me to just dive in?"

"I don't want to bias the results. Just find my future and tell me everything."

He nodded, then rummaged through his suit pockets. Lint, tarot cards, and various wooden symbols were pulled out and put back in until a polished crystal ball emerged. "There it is! Ain't it a beauty? It's the prized possession of King Solomon, y'know."

"Does it help with your prediction?" she asked collectedly.

"Yeah, gets my intuition going…"

Hiro peered into his crystal ball, seeing everything and nothing within it. His brain devoted itself to the endless enigma of fate, with the ball dancing and guiding his mind's eye along ethereal streams of unimaginable hues, and each ray of colors presented to him little portraits of people, places, and things real and unreal. He had traversed this infinite boundary before an innumerable number of times, and he had grown familiar with it, but something was different now. The distance between his mind's eye and the visions it saw seemed non-existent, now. It wasn't like he was seeing things beyond himself: his conscious and the abstract realm collapsed into each other, becoming synonymous. If he still had an active sense of self, he'd have been terrified.

Hiro surged through the pockets of future-time in an instinctual pursuit of his crystal ball. It darted to one then to another then, finally resting atop a swirling future-time. He clutched the ball, and his journey was over. The iridescent vortex sucked his floundering mind into itself and erased itself and him. Then, he was back on his unchanged porch, the scene still glowing in his mind.

Hiro grinned and pointed at Asami. "I see Asami Seishin exiting a plane and entering a fancy atrium where the dude you love is waiting for you with gifts!"

"You do?!" Asami leaned into him, her hand on her heart and her cheeks flushing. "Oh god, tell me more! I need to know if this is real! How did I look?"

"Hm… you looked sick. Like someone gut-punched you before you saw the dude."

"Ugh," she rubbed the back of her neck, "I buy that. I hate plane rides. Always make me wanna vomit."

"See?! I'm the real deal, I couldn't have guessed that!"

"Maybe, maybe not… you want to convince me beyond a shadow of a doubt? Tell me what this guy looks like." She narrowed her eyes. "I have very specific expectations."

"Alright, alright!" He concentrated on the man in Asami's future. "Huh, that's kinda weird. I'm only getting pieces of him."

"What pieces are you getting?"

"Ah, first thing's first… he's tall."

"OK."

"I'm seeing a nice shade of brown hair on him."

"Alright…"

"Oh! He's wearing glasses and a neat business suit."

"Seriously?!" Immediately after that, she covered her mouth with a hand. "Wait, uh, I meant, is that really all you got?"

Oh yeah. He definitely has a satisfied customer. "Not at all! The gift he's got for you is a bunny cage with the name Peter on it!"

"How do you know about Peter?!" She hid her face behind her top hat. Her rabbit's red eyes were wide opened and its cheeks puffed. "Woundwort, it's OK! You don't need to worry about your little, little bro!" She pointed at Hiro, and he could see an embarrassed eye poke out behind her hat. "Just cut the crap and tell me who he is! Please! I'll pay you extra!"

"Then it's time for me to go into overdrive!" He rubbed his temples. "It's clearing… clearing…"

"Oh, I knew it! My true love, my soulmate, he really is––!"

"Hey…" he let out a booming laugh, "it's me! Well, that's a surprise. You'd think you'd notice yourself in a fortune, right? I looked like an old geezer. Kinda a bummer, though, 'cause I thought me and Kanon had something, but you can't beat my predictions!"

"..."

"You make some nice dough as a magician, right? If we're going to be in love, I ain't gonna be stuck paying the bills." He rubbed his chin. "Huh, wonder if you're the mother of me and Makoto's kids…"

"Yasuhiro Hagakure," she said monotonously, "I have a magic trick for you."

He laughed again. "You do? Whoa, I guess my prediction really moved you. Alright then, show me your talent, future lover!"

"Sure thing, lover." She brushed her top hat with shaky hands and jammed it on top of her head. Behind her full lips, gnashed teeth revealed themselves. "Here's my next performance: strangling a bitch and making the body disappear!"

Hiro could only respond with a shriek as he barely dodged a furiously slashed hand to his throat. By some miracle, he had managed to pocket his crystal ball while Asami stabbed him with a chilling glare. Just a second after that, he knew what he had to do: he kicked her in the knee and ran down the steps.

"Ow! Get back here, dickweed!" Asami screamed.

Hiro heard the footsteps behind him getting closer, so he peeked behind himself to see her chasing after him, arms wide out and hands tensed like claws. "You get away from me, psycho!"

"You're fucking dead, you hear me?! Give me my money back, apologize for that awful joke and the kick to the knee, and fuck off!"

"S-someone, help! My future lover is trying to kill meeeeeee!"

A realization struck Hiro as he bolted down the windy roads and slithered through every twist possible: money in his pockets, Asami chasing him, her arms wide open…

"A-ahhhh! Someone, save me! My prediction was 100 percent accurate!"

The nature of Hope and the Infinite has been summarized before. A certain philosopher understood Hope's allure:

What makes hope such an intense pleasure is the fact that the future, which we dispose of to our liking, appears to us at the same time under a multitude of forms, equally attractive and equally possible. Even if the most coveted of these becomes realised, it will be necessary to give up the others, and we shall have lost a great deal. The idea of the future, pregnant with an infinity of possibilities, is thus more fruitful than the future itself; and this is why we find more charm in hope than in possession, in dreams than in reality. (Bergson 9)

It is not the achieving of Infinity through which Hope emerges; hope blossoms through the process of becoming infinity. When Monday presented creation to itself, did it not intend for creation to become Tuesday, and for the Tuesday to become Wednesday, and so on and so forth in perpetuity? The cycle is not the end in itself––for to end goes against the totality of infinity––but it is becoming itself. Entities in the cycle must have the individuality to develop so that infinity can become but never be. That is the reason man and flower were not created to be one:

Man, when he sees flowers and remarks on their beauty, hopes for futures when he may have flowers' features. Flowers, too, hope: they hope for futures when they may know man's love.