I'd barely settled into a seat in the cafeteria when the students began filtering in. The moment Makoto Naegi slipped through the door last, Kiyotaka Ishimaru barked in parade-ground cheer.
"All present and accounted for! Then let's commence breakfast!"
Back on day one that thunderous enthusiasm grated on my ears; now, if Ishimaru's megaphone voice doesn't kick-start the morning, the silence feels almost lonely.
"Thank you, comrades, for gathering at my request!"
"Request? You dragged us here at stupid-o'clock," Leon Kuwata muttered, but Ishimaru's raw decibel output steam-rolled the protest.
"Very well—breakfast time, begin!"
We ate while trading the usual questions: any clues, any secret passages, any miracle epiphanies? Predictably, nothing.
"Come on, somebody cough up something! Anything about the culprit, a way out—pick one!"
Mukuro Ikusaba snapped, her irritation practically blood-red. Nice display of audacity, considering she and her psycho partner are the very culprits.
"If you show weakness in public… you'll die."
"…What was that?"
Celestia Ludenberg's frigid warning set Ikusaba growling—a cat versus a panther. Leaving those two to bare their fangs, the rest of us shifted to theorizing about the mastermind.
Fact check: the mastermind is that military-grade high-schooler currently fake-flirting with Celeste, plus the despair-addict peeping on us from the CCTV room. Like anyone here could know that.
"The culprit's obvious, right? Some freaky, sadistic weirdo," Aoi Asahina ventured—remarkably close to the mark. Where on earth could you find anyone freakier than Junko Enoshima?
"U-uh, if we're talking sadistic serial weirdos… could it be the 'Genocide Jack' killer?"
Ah, right. Sitting two tables away from Byakuya Togami, twisting herself into a pretzel, is that very serial killer.
Chihiro Fujisaki's "Genocide Jack theory" sparked murmurs about the killer's crime spree. Toko Fukawa went sheet-white, but only I seemed to notice.
"Don't worry so much! Rescue will show up any minute! The police must be freaking out that we all vanished—"
"Ahahahahahahahaha! Rescue~?"
Monokuma exploded onto the scene, making everyone jump. He cheerfully informed us no cavalry was coming. On that point he's probably right—the outside world is a smoking crater.
The Future Foundation will try, sure, but canon says that op's a bust. Don't hold your breath.
"By the way, K… you hardly flinched when I popped out."
Uh-oh. Getting flagged already will wreck my entire schedule.
"If this keeps up… I'll be disqualified as the cute murder-game mascot, y'know?"
Panic mode: time to babble excuses for the voyeur in the surveillance room.
"I—I'm a chronic over-thinker, see? Once I'm in my own head you could piggy-back me out and I wouldn't notice… ha ha…"
Even I can hear how pathetic that sounds. No way this sells—
"Hmm… well, I guess that happens…?"
Monokuma scratched his head, inexplicably buying it. Crisis averted—change the subject, stat.
"So, why are you here? Don't tell me you're joining us for waffles."
The bear's grin widened, pure malice behind the cuteness.
"Upupupu… Why am I here? Encouragement! No one's killed anyone yet!"
The class collectively grimaced, but Monokuma droned on.
"Several days into Academy Life, and still zero murders!"
"O-of course! We're not killers!" Makoto protested.
Monokuma ignored him, snapping his paws as if struck by a revelation.
"Oh, I get it! The stage is set—people, place, paranoia—but no murder because…"
"A motive…" I muttered.
Monokuma's eyes gleamed. "Exactly! You're short on 'motive'!"
Right on cue. Time for the Motive Videos.
"What I want to show you is a teeny video clip—footage from the great wide world outside!"
Game on. Gotta stay razor-sharp now.
"What kind of outside footage?"
"No spoilers! Go find it yourselves—hidden somewhere in the school!"
"Before that, I have questions."
Kyoko Kirigiri stepped in. Go, queen.
"Who are you? Why do this? What exactly do you want from us?"
Internally I scream: He's Junko Enoshima, she wants a despair reality show, open your eyes! But out loud—silence.
So this is how the guy who shouted "The emperor has donkey ears!" felt.
"What I want from you…? Simple."
Monokuma paused, then hissed,
"Despair—nothing else."
The room froze. Then, cackling, the bear ordered us to go locate "that place" and vanished.
"He's gone… and again we learned nothing," Kirigiri murmured.
She fell silent, stare drilling the spot where the bear disappeared. Watching her think is oddly adorable; I was still staring when Sakura Ogami spoke.
"This 'outside footage'… what could it be? I am concerned."
Ogami is high-priority risk: honorable, yes, but already blackmailed by Monokuma. If she flips completely, even the rest of the Ultimates together might not stop her. Conclusion: rehabilitate Mukuro and recruit her as counterweight, then befriend Ogami ASAP.
"All right, then—"
Right about now, Mondo Owada will ask Naegi to scout. I'll volunteer to—
"Yo, K! Check it out for us, will ya?"
Why me? Probably because I look like easy prey. Whatever—I'd planned to tag along anyway.
.
.
.
.
After wandering the halls "searching," I slipped into the AV room. A cardboard box waited on the desk, stuffed with DVDs labeled with everyone's names.
I carried the box back to the cafeteria; every eye latched onto it. Showtime.
"Found these in the AV room—DVDs, one per person."
I plucked out the disc marked K and held it up. Curiosity lit the room—perfect moment.
Snap!
I cracked my own disc clean in half, right in front of them.
"K-K! What the hell are you doing?"
Exactly the reaction I wanted—one act beats a hundred lectures.
"Were you actually planning to watch whatever Monokuma handed us? Those discs are designed to shove a murder motive down our throats!"
"Y-yeah, but…"
"Isn't it safer to stay ignorant than risk everybody catching motive-fever?"
I wrung every last drop of oratory skill from my [Ultimate Counselor] title. Heads began nodding—progress!
"Hah? I'm watching mine," Mukuro cut in. Of course the insider derails me.
"Didn't you hear me? It's a motive—"
"You really think one video makes me a killer? What if it holds a clue to our situation?"
"True… the 'outside footage' does pique my interest," Ogami rumbled.
Great, the muscle weighs in. Panic.
"E-even so," Chihiro stammered, "Monokuma imprisoned us. Blindly obeying him seems worse… I-I vote we don't watch."
Leon Kuwata chimed in: "Yeah, feels hella sketchy."
Aoi Asahina nodded. Tears, incoming—my grind isn't wasted!
"If Master's wisdom declares the discs taboo, a disciple must comply," Hifumi Yamada intoned.
"My fortune also says the DVDs reek of danger," Yasuhiro Hagakure added.
"Only a fool gambles hard on uncertain odds," Celeste smirked.
"I concur with K! I'll smash the rest myself!" Ishimaru vowed.
Momentum snowballed. Finally—
"I agree," Naegi said. "No motive video, no motive."
"If that's Makoto's stance, I'm in," Sayaka Maizono echoed.
Consensus locked. Everyone except Mukuro and Ogami seemed content.
"Settled, then—nobody watches."
Ding dong, bing bong!
"Attention, students! Kindly assemble in the gymnasium at once! Repeat: all students to the gymnasium!"
Grumbling, we shuffled out.
I'd blocked the first motive, but what trick is next? This detour wasn't in the original script. Better head to the gym and recon.
.
.
.
.
"Even without his memories, he still hogs center stage."
Junko Enoshima murmured to the surveillance feed, lips curling. She'd half-expected this, but that boy never fails to entertain.
"You never gave up before…"
She recalled how close he'd come to ruining everything last time. Failure would have been deliciously despair-soaked, too. Either way, fun.
"Let's see if you can keep that spark alive now…"
With a giggle, Junko began flicking switches on an elaborate console.
.
.
.
.
Inside the gym, Monokuma awaited in a tiny tuxedo. When did he even tailor that?
"So, why'd you summon us?"
"Upupupu… Heard you pulled a cute little stunt, kiddos."
"Like we'd watch your cursed videos!"
Monokuma chuckled. "Well, if you refuse…"
Relief bubbled—maybe he'd drop the motive.
"…I prepared an alternative! Presenting the Thrill-Kill Motive Premiere!"
Of course. Should've known.
Screeeeech
A colossal screen descended from the rafters. Not in the original blueprints. No time to stop it—
The video rolled before my fatigue-fogged brain could craft a counter.
""Big Bro K!!! Hi there!!!""
""K Oppa!!! How are you!!!""
Oh no.
""Hope's Peak treating you okay? We're doing great thanks to you!""
Fuck.
""Remember, you promised us yummy treats when you get back!!!""
Stop.
""Have a wonderful day!!!""
This can't be—
Kzzzzk
The image cut to the orphanage in ruins. I froze, mind blank, unable even to shield the class.
"K enrolled at Hope's Peak… cheered on by those adorable orphans… but it seems something happened to them, huh?"
Those kids were the only anchor I'd found in this world. What started as a talent test turned into genuine affection.
"Pop quiz! What fate befell the children~?"
The screen flashed: "Answer revealed after graduation!" then blacked out.
I stared dumbly until emotion returned—and saw the others' shock mirrored back.
"Punishment for tampering with the motive! K's video goes public! Everyone else, wait outside until I call your name!"
I clenched my fists. I'd been naïve.
Back home, watching Danganronpa deaths felt awful. I hated seeing such vividly crafted characters crushed by despair—maybe because I saw my own defeated self in them.
In the epilogues where everyone survived, I'd found solace. And now fate had dumped me inside the nightmare with the chance to engineer that happy ending myself.
I treated it too lightly—thought meta-knowledge alone could win.
Result: two years lost to despair, and I couldn't even protect a handful of kids.
My body's wrecked, my heart's worse, and quitting sounds seductively easy.
So what?
Am I really going to collapse again, the way I have for decades?
I'm sick of being limp and lifeless.
The lazy voice in my skull croons that I've done enough, that I deserve rest. So inviting…
But if I break now, I betray the students I love, the orphans who trusted me, and the tiny ember of self-respect I've just rekindled.
I shut my eyes, inhale, and conjure images: Kirigiri's steady gaze; the quirky Ultimates I've begun to befriend; the orphans stuffing candy into my pockets; and, finally, a scrawny, gloomy boy—me—staring back with desperate resolve.
The despair inside combusted into anger, then hardened into purpose. Fine. No more half-measures. I will wreck this killing game—utterly, ruthlessly.
Let Enoshima suspect me; suspicion was inevitable anyway. I'll turn it into a weapon.
I will craft an ending where everyone lives happily ever after.
Steeling myself, I walked out of the gym first, leaving my worried classmates behind.
Monokuma watched me go, quiet chuckle rumbling in his stuffed belly.