Author's Note: I'm not dead! Also, I suck, I know! I promise to try to not have such long delays-and to facilitate that, I would like to thank Snickerwarrior, who also frequents the SB forum and beta'd this for me! Well, enjoy!
Mukuro awoke silently, without the aid of an alarm, as her internal clock had long since been accustomed to awakening early from her military-style life in Fenrir; of course, the time difference of Japan compared to the other countries she had operated out of in recent years meant that it was before dawn and the rising sun had not even began to peek over the buildings of the neighborhood. Staring at the ceiling, Mukuro recalled the impromptu "slumber party" that Makoto's sister had insisted that they partake, and she squinted through the gloom of the room to see that her nails were now painted in the hues of a rainbow, a different color on each finger, with some repeating.
Mukuro stared at her fingers for a while, strange half-formed thoughts and ideas racing across her mind. The former mercenary turned her head and regarded the glowing green numbers of the alarm clock: 4:07 in the morning. From the clock, her eyes caught sight of her cell phone, a blinking light near the top informing her of what she already knew. She had missed a call, or text message.
Junko.
The young woman's face twisted into a frown; should she call her sister back? Junko was, no doubt, livid over being ignored the previous day, and Mukuro knew that no matter the explanation, her little sister would not care. However, Junko would most likely be equally angry at being disturbed this early in the morning, since "beautiful, talented geniuses like her need their beauty sleep!".
Mukuro sighed softly into the silence of the room. How had things become so complicated? Well, she knew that it was because of Makoto (not that the earnest young man could be blamed) and his strange, warped form of fortune. Unlike some people, Mukuro knew well the power of luck, having her own life being saved more than once on the battlefield through sheer chance, but she had never before seen a type of luck quite like what Makoto seemed to possess...
The original plan had been to simply leave in the morning and forget all about the young boy who had shown such affection and gratitude towards her, and the family of strangers who welcomed her into their home as she were one of own. But now that it was known that she would be a classmate with Makoto this coming semester at Hope's Peak Academy, she couldn't very well vanish in the middle of the night—as she had been planning to—and make a clean break.
Truthfully, she wasn't certain she wanted to.
And so, the Ultimate Soldier, true to the first half of her name, lied in the bed that belonged to her "friend," still as the dead. Her eyes gazed at the shadowed plane of the ceiling above her, noting a thin hairline crack that was only now able to be viewed with the scant light that the approaching dawn afforded, and let her mind wander.
Plan of action after plan of action were created and discarded, entire scenarios composed and run through as she tried to quantify this new situation she had found herself unwillingly pulled into by the misfortune of one Makoto Naegi. Mukuro frowned; predictions and analytics were a gift possessed by her genius younger sister, not her. Mukuro Ikusaba was but a weapon. A blade, forged through effort and hard work to a fatal edge—and she was very good at what she did. She was the best—why else would she awarded the title of Ultimate Soldier, after all.
Though, Mukuro thought, this new complication to her life and her sister's—their plan, she scolded herself—wasn't unpleasant. Mukuro was quite certain she had never, in all her travels, met a more inoffensive and well-meaning youth as Makoto Naegi, and even his sister, for all her zeal and enthusiasm, was someone who Mukuro thought the world would be poorer for if either died.
And their parents... well, Mukuro resolutely did not dwell on the fledgling feelings that the kindhearted man and woman stirred in her breasts. This was only temporary, and they would all be dead (whether physically or so twisted by Despair that they simply became a base creature) anyway.
Her heart wrenching at that thought, and the images that her brain spooled forth to accompany them, Mukuro glared at the crack in the ceiling. Rising from the bed, not making a single noise so as to not alert her hosts and possibly wake them, Mukuro made the bed she had slept in to military perfection, even though she knew that the sheets would be laundered once more, as they had been when the room was being prepared for her. Softly, the teen turned on the bedside lamp, and resumed reading her thriller novel from yesterday, allowing her mind to immerse itself in the world between the well-loved pages: one of intrigue, murder and bones.
••• Danganronpa •••
Red eyes glared at the cell phone held in their owner's hands, trapped in a vice-like grip so strong the plastic creaked and groaned beneath the pressure. On the phone's screen, it shown that the attempt to contact the other person was yet unsuccessful-again.
Letting out a shrill shriek, Junko threw the phone down, causing it to sink down into the expensive leather she was seated upon.
"God!" Junko groaned, throwing her head back and staring up at the ceiling. "What the hell is that flat-chested disappointment doing!?" she moaned. "What does she even have to live for, anyway?"
Junko's question was answered by a demure giggle that originated from across from her. "My, my," a sweet voice chirped. "Big sis Junko sure does have it difficult—saddled with such a troublesome little sister," the green-haired girl said, her eyes closed. "You could always just kill her and let me take her place as your beloved and devoted little sister, you know?"
Junko tilted her head but did not reply, instead staring at the speaker: a young girl with green hair and cherubic features, sitting in the chair across from herself, happily kicking her feet; nearby, a wheel chair sat unused. The silence stretched for several uncomfortable seconds, and the green-haired young lady swallowed a lump of dread that had begun to form in her throat. Suddenly, without warning, the fashion icon sprang from her place on the couch with speed that one would not expect from her and lunged at the other girl, the deep blood-color that painted her long, knife-like nails shining in the light.
"Like, O-M-G!" Junko cried out, clutching the younger girl to her chest in a grip that would have made a boa constrictor proud. "Monaca is, like, totes adorb! Yes you are! Such a good girl!" Junko squealed, tightening her grip and forcing Monaca's face deeper into her cleavage, cutting off her airway. Junko's smile widened as the younger girl struggled in her grasp to breath, and after close to a half a minute more of the flailing, Junko let her victim go, pinching the round cheek of the gasping younger girl, making sure to press her nails hard enough to draw blood. "If only Mukuro could be more like you, Monaca!"
Chest heaving, Monaca gave an unsure smile at her "big sister's" praise, rubbing at her mauled cheek with a palm that came away wet with freshly drawn blood. "O-of course!" she chirped. "That could be possible... if you wanted it..." Monaca said, looking down at her hands.
A long painted nail tapped against full lips in thoughtfulness. "Hmmm... It's an idea..." Junko said, staring at the ceiling and kicking her legs childishly from her seat on the sofa. "The Despair of killing my own flesh and blood big sister would be amazing, no doubt about that," the Ultimate Fashionista pondered; Monaca looked on with rapturous awe, hanging on every word with bated breath. "But... Nope! Sorry! No can do, Monaca-chan!" Junko exclaimed, smiling and flashing a peace sign at the younger girl. "Useless as Mukuro is, she still has to play her part for the big show!" Junko said, throwing her hands wide in revelry at the thought of the entire world plunged into Despair, reduced to base animals. So much blood! So much sorrow! So much violence!
So much Despair!
Junko bit her lip, tasting the sweet copper taste of her own blood, as she stifled a moan, and her whole body shuddered as a bolt of pleasure ran down her spine at the very thought of all the Despair. Exquisite! Monaca looked on, her head tilted quizzically to the side, unsure why Big Sister Junko was acting like that, but accepting that Big Sister knew best!
Her rather generous chest heaving, Junko opened her eyes and stared at Monaca. "Speaking of," she began, "you have been taking care of things on your end—haven't you?" Junko asked the young green-haired girl, a note of chilled menace coloring the saccharine tone of her voice. Monaca swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and tried to suppress the shiver of dread that had suddenly washed over her body.
"O-of course!" Monaca nodded frantically. "I've already sold daddy—" the word dripped with scorn and venom that should not be capable from such a young girl—" on the viability of robotic aides for emergency and everyday situations!" Monaca reported. "The rough draft of the endoskeletons is nearly complete! We just need a central control program and marketable facade for the robots."
Junko smiled at Monaca, all previously veiled hostility and implied violence gone from her expression, as if it were never there to begin with. "I knew I could count on my beloved Monaca!" Junko praised, clapping her hands gaily in celebration. "Don't you worry about the control program or the exterior design of the robots! I've got plans for those..." she trailed off, her lips curling into a sinister grin. "By the way!" Juko suddenly exclaimed, looking at Monaca with wide, attentive eyes. "What's up with those other losers you got saddled with in school?" she wondered.
"Oh, them..." Monaca said, frowning and puffing out cheeks in a pout. "They're so pathetic! Really! Acting like they do just because Daddy hit them or Mommy let a strange man touch them in the special place! I mean, I already have them eating out of the palm of my hand, as it is... Maybe it'll be fun to convince them to commit mass suicide or kill their parents or something!" Monaca chirped, her eyes wide with childish glee as she clasped her hands in delight. "Wouldn't that be fun!"
Junko let out a hideous cackle that echoed off the vaulted ceilings of the opulent marble room. "Well, whatever you decide, be sure to your Big Sis so I can have a front row seat, 'kay?" she asked.
"You got it!" Monaca said, hopping to her feet enthusiastically.
••• Danganronpa •••
Mukuro found herself taking a stroll that afternoon. Now, a young girl taking advantage of the mild spring weather was nothing uncommon to see. However, Mukuro found herself ill at ease with the activity, lacking a clear direction or focus. After the rest of the Naegi household had risen from their slumber to get ready for their responsibilities for the day, Mukuro had made the bed to perfection, retrieved her cell phone, packed her things, and promptly went to thank her hosts for their hospitality, and then leave.
Needless to say, the old adage that the first casualty of any battle was the plan of attack, was proved once again true to domestic situations as well as military.
Before she could even offer her thanks, Mukuro found herself being semi-forcibly seated at the table with a cheerful "Good morning" from the Naegi matriarch, as well as an inquiry to how she had slept, before a hot breakfast with tea was placed before her. Thrown off balance, Mukuro was never given a chance to recover her previous resolve as the other members of the household entered into the dining area.
Despite her lack of sleep, Komaru was possessed of her seemingly characteristic energy—Mukuro had no doubt that she was what most people would call a "morning person"—and had greeted her cheerfully, taking a seat right next to the Ultimate Soldier and proceeding to rapidly chatter about how much fun it had been to have another female to sleep with, manga heroines, questions about what the soldier's favorite food was, and if Mukuro had found Makoto's stash of dirty magazines. Mukuro never got the chance to respond to any of these questions, as Komaru's mother had swiftly turned about, brandishing a spatula threateningly in fist, and admonished her daughter about keeping their guest up last night, as well as bothering her first things in the morning. Komaru had cringed and shrunk in on herself, reminding Mukuro of injured animals she had seen, trying to make themselves appear smaller so as to avoid the wrath of predators.
Makoto had wandered in, his hair a mess and his expression still cloudy with sleep. The newly appointed Ultimate Lucky Student stopped and gazed at Mukuro for a moment, blinking at the strange young woman sitting at the breakfast table sipping tea, and then the previous day's events seemed to return and he greeted her with a cheerful good morning that the dark-haired guest found herself returning with a slight smile at his earnestness.
It was then that Komaru repeated her question if Mukuro had found Makoto's "stash" and, if so, did her big brother favor blondes or brunettes? Mukuro was not certain why Makoto flushed red at the question, but she never got a chance to answer since Makoto began denying having any such material with fervent zeal and the complexion of a tomatoes.
The rest of the morning had remained in a state of chaos, with both siblings bickering at one another, their mother scolding them for such behavior in front of a guess, and their father just smiling at the scene, with an air of resignation that came from a person knowing better than to fight against something that he could not change.
And then one Komaru Naegi proceeded to turn all Mukuro's extraction plans on their heads by reminding the young ex-mercenary of her promise to show her "mad ninja skills!" after school. Mukuro did recall making a promise to do so the previous evening, but she had planned to have slipped away from the residence after leaving a simple note of gratitude. Mukuro looked down at her hands, taking in her freshly painted nails from the previous evening's festivities, and contemplated making an apology that she would not be able to, but then Makoto had expressed his desire to see her knife throwing skills with such enthusiasm that Mukuro found herself agreeing before she was even consciously aware of doing so.
What was this strange skill that those of the Naegi bloodline seemed to possess, to be able to draw her against her will into their lives?
And so, Mukuro had found herself promptly denied hope of offering household assistance to Mrs. Naegi, with the mother not hearing anything of having a guest work while she was guest under her roof, and sent outside to enjoy the fresh air and get some sun, having been told that she was "far too pale" for a young woman such as her.
Mukuro did not think it wise to inform Mrs. Naegi that she had, in fact, gotten large amounts of sun in various tropical and desert countries, and instead found herself agreeing to do so with a promise of being back for dinner.
She was even given a bento to eat for lunch with a thermos of barley tea.
This was a day of strange new experiences for Mukuro Ikusaba, Ultimate Soldier, ex-mercenary of the infamous Fenrir mercenary group. Mukuro knew vaguely what other average girls her age did when out and about, but shopping and the other usual activities they seemed to prefer held no appeal to the soldier, so she simply let her feet take her where they may, her bento held in one hand.
She glanced down at her phone, and an icy serpent of dread constricted her heart in her chest. Her sister had not answered the calls she had made after leaving the house, nor the text messages she had sent either. Junko was no doubt furious with her. How could she make this up to her little sister? Plan of action after plan of action sped their way through the Ultimate Soldier's mind, each being considered and then summarily discarded.
Lost in thought, Mukuro strolled along the streets, having only once to show her special note of exemption to a local police officer who approached her apparent truancy. After maybe an hour's time of considering how best to make it up to Junko, Mukuro decided to take a seat and partake of the lunch that had been provided to her.
Bringing a clump of seasoned rice to her mouth, Mukuro thoughtfully chewed her morsel as she watched life itself play itself out before her. Pedestrians, consumers, businessmen on their lunch, all passed her by, none paying the slightest bit of interest to the dark-haired young woman who watched them with the eyes of a hawk, assessing their every movement.
Mukuro washed down a pickled vegetable with a sip of tea, and then glanced down at her phone to see the time. Shortly after noon. Mechanically eating bite after bite, vaguely making note that it was quite tasty, Mukuro ate her meal for lack of anything other to do. After she had placed her chopsticks back in the box and wrapped it back up, she found her hands restless, the fingers twitching slightly.
Normally, she would always have something to do while in Fenrir. Attending to some task, training, cleaning a knife or gun; but now, she could hardly remove a knife or a gun and expect to not have a return trip to a jail, and that was something she was keen to avoid after yesterday's debacle.
Getting up, Mukuro opted to simply walk—where she did not care. Store after store passed the young woman by, and she found her thoughts wandering. Of the Plan. Of Junko. And, increasingly, of Makoto, the strange boy that possessed an even stranger luck.
Stopping, she recalled back to the crest on his school's uniform. Retrieving her phone from her pocket, she confirmed the location of said school. Mukuro worried her lower lip slightly for a moment before coming to a decision. Pulling up bus routes on her phone, she marched with purpose to the nearest stop.
Hopefully, she would not find herself involved in any ongoing criminal activities today.
••• Danganronpa •••
The doors flew wide open, a torrent of students pouring forth from the school, to either attend to further academics, socialize with their friends, or to simply relax back at home. Among the throngs of youth, one Makoto Naegi walked out, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder.
Suddenly, he found himself falling forward, the ground fast approaching, having been knocked off balance by an over enthusiastic student coming from behind him. Before the young man could even close his eyes or put his hands forward to stop his fall, he found himself halted and suspended mid-fall. Blinking, he looked up to find a familiar face frowning down at him, the back of his collar held in an unwavering grip.
"Mukuro?" Makoto wondered, taking in the unimpressed face of his newest friend and current house guest. "What are you doing here?" he asked, heedless of the fact that he was frozen midway through a fall, as well as garnering the wandering stares of his fellow classmates around him.
Mukuro, toned muscles in her arm shifting beneath her pale skin, effortlessly lifted Makoto to a proper orientation once more, before scanning him over with gray eyes, checking in case of any injuries. "Your mother insisted I enjoy the 'beautiful weather' outside and that I was 'far too pale' for a young lady such as myself," Mukuro parroted.
Makoto blinked at that, and then felt his face heat up. "So... you decided to wait for me to get out of school?" he asked, feeling very self conscious now, with the multitude of students wondering whom the new beauty was and why she was familiar with Makoto.
"Hmm," Mukuro hummed, nodding slightly. "Honestly, I was afraid that you'd be hit by a car on the way home from school," she told him with no remorse.
Makoto took a step back, her words like an arrow that had pierced his very soul. "Hey!" he whined, staring at the raven-haired girl across from him with a look akin to that of a wounded puppy. "My luck isn't that bad!" he whined.
Mukuro simply looked at him, and ever so slowly a dark brow rose upward; Makoto flushed, recalling the incident that had just happened seconds ago. "I tripped, okay?" he defended himself. "It wasn't like I would have been trampled!" Mukuro honestly had her doubts about that, but didn't voice them, instead purposefully beginning her walk back to the Naegi household.
"I promised your sister I would show her my knife throwing skills," she told Makoto. He had hurried to catch up with her, the whispers and conversations behind him having only increased—when school resumed on Monday, he would likely be subjected to a great many rumors, it seemed.
The Ultimate (un)Lucky Student sighed and followed after his friend.
"Don't worry," Mukuro consoled, though not turning back to look at him. "I won't let you get hit by an cars," she added in a matter-of-fact deadpan tone, but Makoto had the irritating feeling that she was smiling, if only a little.
••• Danganronpa •••
Makoto found himself staring up at the sky, absently noting that one of the clouds looked abstractly like a turtle, if he squinted his eyes. The young man thought of getting up, but did not quite trust his feet to be able to competently hold himself upright just yet.
Oh well, at least the grass was soft. He heard his little sister excitedly clapping her hands and giggling like the schoolgirl she actually was—at his expense! The world grew dim and the young boy blinked as a concerned face was now staring down at him.
"Are you injured?" Mukuro asked, biting at her lower lip in a manner that Makoto thought made the pale young woman look adorable.
Adorable? Makoto thought to himself, blinking at the suddenness of the thought and wondering where it had come from. Well, Mukuro was a very pretty girl, now that he thought about it, and she did look cute right now... His face heating up, Makoto quickly derailed that train of thought, instead taking the slender hand that was offered to him, surprised as he found himself quickly pulled to his feet with little aid from his own strength.
Although he had witnessed it yesterday, he was still amazed at the feats of physical prowess and skill that Mukuro was able to perform. There was no doubt in his mind that she deserved the title of "Ultimate Soldier".
"Just my pride..." Makoto grumbled to himself. Seeing Mukuro's worried expression, he quickly aimed to assure the girl. "I'm fine," Makoto said, trying to play off the fact that he just been knocked ass-over-teakettle with little to no effort. And not quite pulling it off, he supposed, seeing as his little sister was now in a heap on the ground, her frame shaking with laughter, pointing mockingly at him.
"Y-Your face!" she gasped out, unshed tears of mirth rimming her eyes. "It... It was like this!" Komaru made a face that somewhat resembled a fish out of water, before collapsing once more into unintelligible giggles.
Mukuro frowned and glanced over at Komaru, worried that the younger girl was having some sort of medical episode. What was so funny? It was to be expected that an average teen with no physical training would be easily taken down against a stronger and more skilled opponent.
"Will she be alright?" Mukuro asked, while giving Makoto a once over from head to toe, taking note of his posture and stance, looking for any signs of labored breathing or favoring of limbs that would suggest any sprains or broken bones. Granted, all she had done was demonstrate a basic non lethal takedown move, sweeping his feet out from under him, but for some illogical reason, how light he was when she had lifted him still lingered in her mind.
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Makoto waved away Mukuro's concern, only giving his sister a brief dirty look. "Anyway, that was amazing, Mukuro!" Makoto suddenly switched topic, now making the soldier feel unsure of her footing, metaphorically speaking. "I'm not even sure what just happened!"
"I swept your feet out from under you..." Mukuro explained, for lack of any other response to the unexpected praise. Why was he so pleased that she had disabled him? It wasn't anything that impressive, in her mind.
"I know," Makoto nodded (he was very aware of that fact), "but I never even saw you move" he breathed.
"Hmmm," Mukuro made a thoughtful noise, having no response. Her eyes scanned the area, searching for a new topic of conversation. She found herself alighted when her eyes laid upon the three empty soda cans near the door to the house, recalling her initial goal before Komaru had forcibly volunteered her brother for Mukuro to show off some "awesome ninja moves".
Reaching down, Mukuro hiked up the side of her skirt—not noticing that Makoto's face turned cherry red, nor the quick diverting of his gaze—and unclipped the holster of throwing knives that she kept strapped to one of her upper thighs. Deftly plucking the blades from their cradles, she held them in a fan-like motion in her fingers, edges gleaming in the afternoon's setting sun. The flash of the blades reflection drew the attention of both siblings, who both gazed in wide-eyed rapture at the wicked instruments of death.
"I believe I'd promised to show you these, did I not?" Mukuro asked Komaru, who looked for all the world like a young girl whom had just been gifted a puppy from Father Christmas himself. The female Naegi then let out a high decibel noise that Mukuro had never heard any human make before—and she had heard every manner of noises pass from the lips of men and woman on the battlefield, in their final moments.
If Mukuro had to make a comparison, she would say that Komaru's noise did slightly reminded her of the whistling one might hear from an incoming artillery shell.