Ave

Turning a Blind Eye:

Let’s start with the aspect of Mahiru and Hiyoko's relationship that most people point to when calling Mahiru a hypocrite: her ignoring Hiyoko’s bullying.

At a glance, I can’t say this criticism rings false. During my first playthrough, I was just as confused by the class’ reaction (or lack thereof) to Hiyoko’s verbal abuse. Only when I read deeper into her character did it start to add up. Put simply, I believe that Hiyoko’s behavior is handled the way it is for several reasons – however frustrating – and that these reasons are key to understanding her dynamic with Mahiru.

When it comes to Class 77B as a whole, there’s a fairly straightforward explanation: Hiyoko’s behavior is rendered trivial by the killing game. Under life-or-death circumstances, a 4’2” pipsqueak childishly slandering her peers is lucky to register as any concern, let alone an urgent one. This is reinforced by the formulaic nature of her bullying scenes, almost all of which go something like: jab → target’s reaction → another character reroutes the discussion to focus on more pressing issues → jab is forgotten → rinse and repeat. Something similar can be said for Teruteru’s sexual harassment and Kazuichi’s overstepping of Sonia’s boundaries (and on a more inoffensive note, why comic relief moments, courtesy of Ibuki or Gundham, are so fleeting): the threat of the killing game looms large. Only when a threat within the group becomes synonymous with the killing game is it addressed with nearly the same urgency (think Nagito post-chapter 1) – otherwise, it might as well be non-existent.

If insults were the long and short of it, Hiyoko’s conduct would be – for all intents and purposes – harmless. Rude at best and borderline malicious at worst, but ultimately not a big deal. Except that isn’t the case. Why? Because two characters, Mikan and Kazuichi, lack the self-esteem to brush it off, and through their emotional reactions, they become prime targets. In no time, general unpleasantness gives way to full-on bullying, which – needless to say – is a big deal. Compounding this, while the other characters aren’t oblivious to Mikan and Kazuichi’s sensitivity per se, they aren’t actively mindful of it, either. In most scenes where Mikan breaks down pre-trial 3, Hajime’s inner monologue is something along the lines of, “Why is she crying and apologizing so much?” as opposed to, “Oh no, is she okay?” He’s concerned, just not enough to adjust his approach. The same goes for Kazuichi, particularly when his sensitivity causes him to panic. Ironically, by choosing those two as her main targets, Hiyoko may be the only one who “acknowledges” their low self-esteem as anything worth treating them differently over (though that’s obviously not to her credit, since it’s in the most twisted way possible.)

I’ve seen it suggested that simply being childish is what gives Hiyoko a “pass” on the behavior front, and while I don’t think that's wrong, I think it underestimates Hiyoko’s own awareness of how she’s perceived, i.e., as younger – both physically and mentally – than her classmates. She doesn’t act the way she does and then expect her childlike image to compensate for it automatically; she’s in a constant, deliberate (if not always conscious) flip-flop between unapproachable and childish. After all, while she is a paranoid individual who puts forth her assholish personality to avoid forming connections and facing betrayal, she’s also someone who likes to have her cake and eat it, too. In Hiyoko's mind, so long as she can be simultaneously unlikable and unthreatening, she needn't fear going too far and making enemies (instead of just, y’know, not making friends). To that end, she turns to her young appearance as a sort of “back-up” – a way of being avoided without being antagonized. This tactic, hinted at a few times in DR2 as well as other canon material, backfires, however, highlighting its fundamental flaw: sure, no one takes her seriously enough to get mad at her insults, but by the same token, no one takes her seriously in general – not even when she wants them to.

Again, though, that’s the class as a whole. What about Mahiru specifically? From what I've seen, she’s frequently singled out by the fandom as the character most to blame for Hiyoko’s behavior going unchecked, and this can be attributed to a few things:

Her emphasis on manners and decorum.

Her friendship with Hiyoko making her responsible for correcting the latter’s behavior.

The opening scene of 2-2 in which she defends Hiyoko (dubbed “the restaurant scene” by me because it’s set in the restaurant and I’m uncreative.)

The second and third reasons go hand-in-hand, but I have a lot to say about the third, so I'll save it for the next section. The first and second I'll talk about here.

Hypocrisy is defined as not practicing what one preaches. One could argue that Mahiru exhibits hypocrisy when she preaches good manners, but 1) doesn’t call Hiyoko out for being a bully, and 2) ultimately becomes her friend. Does this argument hold water? In my opinion, yes and no. Let me explain.

First, we should establish how Hiyoko’s flip-flopping carries over into her relationship with Mahiru. In a nutshell, Mahiru isn't immune to it; she doesn't take Hiyoko seriously, either. This might seem like a nonstarter for their relationship, but counterintuitively, I think it’s what allows them to find common ground. The dichotomy between their most basic values is reflected in their profiles, with Mahiru’s stating that she dislikes bad manners, Hiyoko’s that she dislikes being lectured. It doesn’t get more “polar opposites” than that. Despite this, they get along. Why? Well, the answer is complicated, but in short, it’s because – while Mahiru may not be immune to Hiyoko’s flip-flopping – her perception isn’t quite as limited by it as her peers’.

I've seen people describe Hiyoko as “fawned over” by her classmates, but I can’t say I agree. Instances of the others offering Hiyoko comfort and/or sympathy are pretty much exclusive to the second trial (after her name is cleared; before that, they're accusing her left and right) and the scene where they discover her shrine (after Chiaki sheds light on its true purpose; before that, they're rallying to burn it.) In both, I think it's made clear that they're doing it out of a sense of, “Wow, this killing game sucks,” and not, “Wow, Hiyoko is so cute and precious.” That's nothing unique to her; every character who loses a loved one to the killing game is afforded some tenderness afterwards, regardless of what they’re like or whether the blame lays at their feet. Where her Mahiru-related suffering isn't concerned, though, Hiyoko’s classmates more or less tolerate her existence. They go, “Hey, look, there's the rude little girl we for some reason share a grade with,” and move on with their lives.

Of course, it’s no one's responsibility to parent their peer, and Hiyoko's other classmates aren't necessarily wrong to take her at face value. But Mahiru is different; she assumes responsibility for those around her whether they want her to or not. Her desire to bring out the best in others is what allows her to perceive Hiyoko as a child not just in temperament, but in impressionability. In other words, she’s the only one who sees potential in Hiyoko – with a nudge in the right direction – to grow and improve. She showcases this quality in 2-2, when Hiyoko admits the reason behind her smell. While the others are busy asking why a high schooler can’t dress herself, Mahiru is offering to help. She doesn’t slap a Band-Aid on the problem and tie Hiyoko’s kimono for her, either; she teaches her how to do it herself.

If Hiyoko were a plain old bully, all cruelty and no childishness – if there were nothing to bridge the gap between her and Mahiru like, say, the need for a role model – Mahiru would be more inclined to call her out, yes, but the circumstances that bring them together would cease to exist. And if you ask me? This would hurt both their characters in the long run. I’ll get to why in the last section. In the meantime, I’ll answer a relevant question: if Mahiru is the only one generous enough to believe Hiyoko can change for the better, why does she demonstrate this generosity only once – in a situation where Hiyoko is vulnerable rather than hostile, no less? Well, there’s a reason for that, too.

See, Hiyoko’s quick and fervent attachment to Mahiru, starting with the restaurant scene, makes it easy to forget that – all told – their relationship on the island spanned three days. What’s more, the attachment was one-sided; Mahiru was surprised and somewhat exasperated by Hiyoko's clinginess, and while she didn’t outright reject her affections, reciprocating them came very much second to unraveling the secrets of the island – especially once Twilight Syndrome entered the picture (no pun intended). Hell, apart from the restaurant scene (and the bonus event that follows), there are only two other times they interact face-to-face: 1) in an optional scene where Mahiru lets Hiyoko drag her to the supermarket, but warns Hiyoko that she’s busy and can’t spend too much time with her, and 2) during the off-screen meeting we piece together in 2-2’s Closing Argument. Following the restaurant scene (arguably the only one where Mahiru is focused exclusively on Hiyoko), she’s reluctant to help Hiyoko shower and redress right away, considering the upcoming investigation a bigger priority. The morning after, although Hiyoko is still clinging to Mahiru, Mahiru doesn't acknowledge her at any point, focused instead on forcing Nekomaru and Kazuichi to give up Nagito’s location. Starting to notice a pattern?

None of this is to diminish the ultimate impact of Mahiru and Hiyoko’s relationship, of course (I’m working up to that slowly, if you couldn’t tell.) But calling them “friends” only really works from the vantage point of the entire Class 77B saga; in DR2 alone, it’s a bit of a stretch. I refer to them as such in write-ups (half for the sake of brevity, and half because Danganronpa uses “friend” as a generic term for all harmonious relations), but in fact, the only time Mahiru or Hiyoko is described as the other’s friend is in 2-3, when Chiaki asks Hiyoko what Mahiru would say about Fuyuhiko’s seppuku. Chiaki’s observations about her classmates aren't off the mark per se, but they are sometimes lacking in nuance – likely due to her being an AI with a limited framework for understanding people. Us players, on the other hand, can be a bit more discerning: we got one scene where Mahiru was focused on Hiyoko and Hiyoko only, and by the time it was over, her attention had already returned to the killing game. Two days later, she died. I’d be concerned if anyone besides Chiaki called that friendship.

Consider Fuyuhiko for a moment. The fact that Mahiru has basically double the interactions with him that she does with Hiyoko, even prior to the events of case 2, is telling. She’s on positive terms with Hiyoko, whereas she and Fuyuhiko butt heads constantly, so it should be the other way around, right? Nope. Fuyuhiko represents a danger synonymous with the killing game (due to his threats of continuing it, plus refusal to cooperate), and so reining him in is automatically higher on her list of priorities.

And that's the thing: despite being a grade A cunt, Hiyoko is cooperative. Making oneself unapproachable requires being approached to begin with, after all (and, as we soon learn, she’s not as averse to company as she lets on.) She doesn’t create rifts within the group the way Fuyuhiko does pre-chapter 3, much less entertain the idea of the killing game – and while she might not be very useful in investigations, she doesn’t refuse to participate in them (unless, you know, she’s being framed for murder). For all her brashness, Mahiru is quick to ease up on those she sees as working toward a common goal – namely, invalidating the killing game – and cooperation, however basic, is essential to that end. This, coupled with the aforementioned flip-flopping effect, makes it so Hiyoko only shows up on Mahiru’s radar when she starts crying over her kimono in 2-2. Fuyuhiko, meanwhile, shows up the moment he starts threatening to kill someone.

All in all, what I’m getting at is, Mahiru’s role modeling in DR2 isn’t supposed to go beyond the restaurant scene. At no point during the killing game is correcting Hiyoko’s behavior a consistent goal for her, and while I think it's fair to argue that it should've been, I only half-agree – for reasons I'll get to soon. Since I’m not sure I can explain the purpose of Mahiru's guidance in DR2 without repeating myself in the third section, for now, I’ll just highlight what it aims to achieve in other installments.

Granted, most spin-off interactions are one-on-one, meaning only Twilight Syndrome Murder Case and DRS showcase how Mahiru responds to Hiyoko’s bullying in a non-killing game setting. I’d argue that neither disappoints, however: she instructs Hiyoko more than once on how to act in both. What I like about this portrayal is that Mahiru’s gentle approach stays the same; only the urgency with which she addresses Hiyoko’s behavior changes. As far as she's concerned, Hiyoko is still a child in need of teaching, but now – with the stakes that much lower – she’s evidently also a bully to be reined in.

These interactions make Mahiru one of few characters to try to temper Hiyoko’s cruelty at any point in the series. You know who doesn’t ever try, not even outside of the killing game? Most of the DR2 cast, who witness far more frequent and targeted bullying than Mahiru does, simply by virtue of outliving her. This includes:

the game’s protagonist, whose inner monologue consistently acknowledges how terrible Hiyoko’s behavior is, but who never calls it out.

the self-appointed leader of the group, who either ignores Hiyoko’s comments or encourages the ones directed at him.

the Ultimate Team Manager (who also encourages insults thrown his way) and Princess, whose talents center on order and unity.

the Observer AI, whose main objective is to ensure that everyone gets along no matter what.

Of course, how much incentive and/or know-how someone has for stopping a bully is unimportant when a simple “cut it out” from anyone would suffice. At the end of the day, the fact remains that everyone – Mahiru included – turned a blind eye to bullying during the killing game, and there’s no excuse for that. My aim in pointing this out is not to absolve Mahiru of blame, rather, to put into perspective why it may be unfair to saddle her with all, let alone most, of it.

So, at last, with all that out of the way, is Mahiru a hypocrite when it comes to Hiyoko? Well, sure. She’s hypocritical in the sense that she exercises a double standard, i.e., cuts Hiyoko more slack than she does others. But is that double standard exclusive to her? Hardly. If anything, by not dismissing her as a child through and through, Mahiru holds Hiyoko to a higher standard than most of her peers do, and this gets its chance to shine outside of DR2. Moreover, her double standard isn’t a function of favoritism; on the contrary, if Hiyoko took precedence in her mind, their interactions wouldn’t be so few and far between. Calling Hiyoko out isn’t one of her priorities, but neither is being her friend.

In view of this, I think a better question is whether or not Mahiru’s hypocrisy is conscious. Conscious hypocrisy is when someone deliberately acts against their stated values, usually for personal gain or convenience. Unconscious hypocrisy is when someone fails to align their actions with their beliefs, often due to cognitive dissonance or blindspots. If you ask me, the latter seems more apt. Mahiru isn’t a hypocrite because she seeks to protect or enable Hiyoko; she’s a hypocrite because she pigeonholes those around her, deciding her approach based on first impressions – not in a bid to hurt anyone, but to create order from chaos. At any rate, I don’t see the point in singling her out.

Speaking of…

The Restaurant Scene:

The opening scene of 2-2, i.e., Mahiru and Hiyoko’s “bonding” moment, is where I’ve noticed a lot of fans’ ire with their relationship is focused. Mahiru’s defense of Hiyoko here is widely considered hypocritical, and honestly? While I disagree, I don’t blame people for seeing it that way. Even I had to give it some extra thought before it started making sense to me. Here’s why I don’t think it deserves all the flack.

Immediately on entering the restaurant, the brooding atmosphere hits hard. Almost everyone is silently grieving the Imposter and Teruteru, too overwhelmed by the events of the night prior to make conversation. Mahiru is no exception; she struggles to say “good morning.” Hiyoko, meanwhile, is the odd one out. She badmouths Teruteru, claiming he deserved to die for his crime and shouldn't be mourned. How does Mahiru respond? She doesn't. But her silence isn’t for lack of caring – quite the opposite.

See, the thing to understand about Mahiru (and perhaps her fatal flaw) is that, despite her headstrong attitude and emphasis on “doing the right thing,” she doesn’t always know what the right thing is. Her lack of confidence leads her to second-guess herself, and that hesitation becomes the driving force behind her actions. The restaurant scene quietly foreshadows its role in her final confrontation with Fuyuhiko.

Consider the things Mahiru jumps down her peers’ throats about: all relatively “simple” moral dilemmas. Impropriety, reckless decision-making, threats, the like. Then compare that to the dilemma Hiyoko poses here, albeit unintentionally. Do the ends justify the means when it comes to reuniting with family? Is trading the lives of 15 strangers for that of one important person right? Mahiru has no idea; she’s never had to think about it before. Even if she disagrees on principle, who is she to tell this girl she barely knows not to feel relieved that someone who tried to execute her is dead? Only later, after giving it some thought, does she come to terms with this dilemma – and in the meantime, Peko steps in, hinting at her familiarity with topics like execution.

Soon thereafter, Akane identifies Hiyoko as the source of a bad smell, and while most of the comments that follow are born of genuine concern for her hygiene, Gundham and Kazuichi’s are a tad insensitive. Mahiru says as much, and here’s where I think some fans’ readings of the restaurant scene miss the point. Nowhere during this exchange does Mahiru accuse her peers of bullying Hiyoko. The reason she intervenes has everything to do with her flaw regarding moral dilemmas, and – up until her offer to help Hiyoko with her kimono – almost nothing to do with Hiyoko herself. “Is it rude to harp on a sensitive hygiene issue outside of one’s control?” is already a dilemma far simpler than “should a murderer be mourned?" but the added layer of disregarding a lecture and doing the same thing the next morning makes it a no-brainer. Mahiru doesn’t care that Hiyoko is the target of a few obtuse comments; she cares that the guys didn’t listen to her when she schooled them previously – something she makes clear by opening with, “I’ve said it before, but…”

Seeing that Hiyoko is still crying, Mahiru decides to lend a hand. She offers to teach Hiyoko a simple knot, and if the hug that follows is any indication, this touches Hiyoko deeply. Why? Well, the secret lies in her backstory.

A few in-game clues – along with her FTEs and Island Mode – reveal that Hiyoko’s childhood was… less than wholesome. She was forced to leave her parents’ home and move in with her grandmother, who put her to work studying the traditional dance for which the Saionji Clan is famous. Sheltered and isolated, Hiyoko found herself at the mercy of political rivals, who targeted her with cruel “pranks” and made attempts on her life. Her grandmother knew that Hiyoko didn’t want to be the next head of the family, and so, to prevent her traumatized granddaughter from shirking her responsibilities, she spoiled her into total dependence, neglecting to teach her basic life skills – including (but not limited to) dressing herself. This act of manipulation led Hiyoko to develop an inferiority complex around her lack of self-sustainability.

This context puts Hiyoko’s reaction in a whole new light. To anyone else, this would be the bare minimum. But to Hiyoko? It’s a monumental kindness. Rather than taking care of it for her, Mahiru offered to teach her how to take care of it herself. Not only did this instantly earn her Hiyoko’s trust, it gave Hiyoko every reason to see her as a role model – as someone whose example could be followed. This point becomes all the more relevant later.

Honestly, while I understand criticisms of the restaurant scene from a “Mahiru should have also defended Mikan/Kazuichi” standpoint, I can't say I do from a “she shouldn’t have helped Hiyoko” one. I’ve already outlined where her blindspots lie in terms of calling Hiyoko out, but of the characters most attentive to Mikan/Kazuichi otherwise, I’d argue she’s up there (although, again, no one is nearly as mindful of them as they should be.) She’s clearly concerned for Mikan, and while she’s critical of Kazuichi’s cowardice, it's not always “man up” with him; she comes to his defense when Fuyuhiko taunts him for his fear of the Monobeasts. To reiterate, Mahiru defended Hiyoko once in a situation where she would have done the same for anyone. As for assisting Hiyoko…? Frankly, I don't see the issue. If the restaurant scene has anything to say, it's that Hiyoko – while a rotten bully – is still human at the end of the day. The fact that she's a little shit, and the fact that she's so helpless she can't get dressed by herself, aren’t mutually exclusive. Showing her compassion for the latter isn't giving her free rein to continue being the former – it's just that: compassion. She needed help, and if Mahiru wouldn't give it to her, who would?

More than once throughout her screentime does Mahiru extend compassion to someone who isn’t an unambiguously good person. She genuinely sympathizes with Teruteru’s motive, despite not agreeing with his actions; she brings food to a tied-up Nagito (twice, for that matter), despite the chaos he’d sown the previous chapter; and she commiserates with Fuyuhiko over Natsumi’s murder, despite what they'd both done and how they'd both treated her. In light of this, helping a bully tie her kimono is not only in-character for Mahiru, but arguably her least “extreme” act of compassion. I’d also argue that it pays off – in more ways than one.

Why I Think it Works:

So far, I’ve explained why nothing holds Mahiru and Hiyoko’s relationship back per se, but I’ve yet to explain what pushes it forward. Let me rectify that.

Following the events of the second trial, Hiyoko’s hostility toward her peers increases. The third island investigation has her manipulate Akane into exploring the motel on her behalf, and when Hajime talks to her, not only does she insult him right off the bat, she's openly classist toward him, comparing the rundown building to his house. This behavior is low, even for Hiyoko, and where it came from is no mystery.

See, Mahiru's death sets itself apart from others in the series in that it isn't an immediate incentive for the person closest to her to change. Hiyoko doesn't get the tried and true “character loses a friend and is motivated to better themselves as a result” arc – not straight away – because unlike, say, Sakura and Aoi, Peko and Fuyuhiko or Tenko and Himiko, Mahiru had no last words, no final message of strength or wisdom for Hiyoko. Her murder was a source of conflict and animosity – nothing more, nothing less.

As is established following Teruteru’s execution, Hiyoko has a retribution-oriented mindset – not too far off from Fuyuhiko’s “an eye for an eye.” She doesn't believe in forgiveness or redemption; she holds onto grudges indefinitely; and she maintains that all killers deserve to die themselves. This mindset is yet another symptom of her paranoia – of her belief that she was born with a target on her back. Unlike Fuyuhiko, whose hostility was a mask he wore to compensate for his insecurities, Hiyoko’s is an extension of her worldview; an ingrained trait.

That's why I only half-agree with those who say Mahiru should have reprimanded Hiyoko in DR2. Would it have given Mikan/Kazuichi some peace of mind? Absolutely, and that's reason enough. Would it have changed Hiyoko’s behavior in the long run? Doubtful. A scolding would address the bullying in the moment, but it wouldn’t get to the root of the problem, i.e. the paranoia from which the behavior stems. The only reason Mahiru’s instruction outside of DR2 (as underscored earlier) has any effect is that Hiyoko is already in a safe environment with friends she trusts, far away from her family and their perilous traditions. Though her lizard brain instinct is still to be as nasty as possible, the groundwork is there for her to integrate Mahiru’s guidance and improve over time – groundwork that's virtually non-existent in DR2’s killing game.

But back to 2-3. Once out of the hospital, Fuyuhiko tries to right his wrongs. Waving off his peers’ concern, he introduces himself properly, signaling his desire to become part of the group. Hiyoko is less than receptive. The fact that he took Mahiru from her is only a sliver of the issue; more than that, he's a killer, and killers are irredeemable monsters who targeted her as a child, instilling within her a permanent fear of the world. She sees only the worst in him, no matter the sincerity of his efforts.

Hiyoko’s shrine, while testament to her love for Mahiru, is a kind of… development red herring, as it were. Setting aside her insecurities to perform a task beyond her (forced) field of expertise is a feat, don't get me wrong, but it isn't really a change. She’d never hesitated to convey vulnerability when it came to Mahiru, whether by saying to her face that she loved her or expressing how much she missed her when she was gone. It's only when she confronts Fuyuhiko about Mahiru and Peko’s deaths, and he responds by committing seppuku, that we see dynamics start to shift.

Here, Hiyoko is stunned into silence, and that in itself speaks volumes. She believes strongly that all killers deserve to die, doesn't she? So then why does she go quiet? Why doesn't she take advantage of Fuyuhiko’s instability and get him to finish the job? It’s not because she doesn’t want to die herself; the last trial confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that only the person to deliver the killing blow is punished. It's because she realizes something: that’s not what Mahiru would want.

Mahiru had always stood firmly on the side of restoration and mercy. She never wished harm on anyone, no matter what they'd done; she extended compassion to everyone, even killers; she disapproved of cruel and unusual punishment; and she showed particular distaste for acts of revenge. Of course, in keeping with her fatal flaw, she didn't always go about these ideals in the right way. She covered up a murder in a desperate attempt to protect her friend from yakuza “justice,” and she scolded an enraged Fuyuhiko for avenging his sister – both rash decisions that she paid the ultimate price for.

But by the same token, she kept thinking about Teruteru's actions after the restaurant scene and concluded that he didn’t, in fact, deserve to die for his crime. She forced Nekomaru and Kazuichi to disclose Nagito’s location; criticized their extreme methods; and brought Nagito breakfast when nobody else would. She deliberated for days over how best to make amends with Fuyuhiko, even though his threatening letter – coupled with her knowledge of the game’s true ending – would have been more than enough to convince the others to restrain him like Kazuichi wanted. Had she thought more like Hiyoko and dismissed Fuyuhiko as an irredeemable murderer from the get-go, the opportunity to lure her to the beach house would have never existed.

At its core, Hiyoko’s journey in 2-3 is about her integrating Mahiru’s ideals in order to forgive Fuyuhiko – and of all the routes it could have taken, I find this one the most powerful. Hiyoko losing the one person on the island she trusted – hell, having that trust exploited by the ones responsible – could have precluded all progress right then and there. Mahiru's guidance was limited to a single act of compassion that had (seemingly) nothing to do with what she stood for. Being framed for her murder put Hiyoko in a vulnerable position she thought she could only shore up by becoming meaner. If anything, she should have become worse. But because Mahiru’s compassion reached her in a fundamental way – because she valued Mahiru enough to consider her unspoken ideals – she defied the odds and changed anyway. Not because Mahiru told her to, but because she wanted to. 

And so, at last, that's why I think the way their relationship was written – with a brief but meaningful role model dynamic, limited intervention on Mahiru's side and childlike admiration on Hiyoko's – worked in both their favors. It allowed Mahiru's impact to carry on past 2-2 (more extensively, anyway, as it would have played into Fuyuhiko’s arc regardless; his desire to make amends using the second chance Peko gave him was no coincidence), and it made it so the sincerity other arcs work hard to convey is there by default with Hiyoko’s – just by virtue of it happening at all. Do I still wish Mahiru called Hiyoko out on her bullying for Mikan and Kazuichi’s sake? Yep. I just wouldn't change anything else.

On that note, it’s also why I can’t get behind the idea that Mahiru “enabled” Hiyoko. An enabler is someone who, well, enables something – usually a behavior – right? Remove the enabler from the equation, and the enabled behavior should become harder to maintain. So… what would become of Hiyoko if she never “befriended” Mahiru? I mean… she'd smell worse. She'd like one fewer person. That’s about it. Not receiving Mahiru’s compassion wouldn’t have done much of anything, but receiving it made a world of difference.

Hell, even if we strip away Mahiru's primary impact on Hiyoko, i.e. prompting her development in 2-3, I’d argue that what we’re left with in 2-2 is still unequivocally positive. Helping Hiyoko shower and tie her kimono were both good things that improved the lives of everyone on the island. Not only did it eliminate the odor problem, it gave Hiyoko a new point of focus: given the opportunity, she spent her time clinging to Mahiru instead of going around bullying others. Keep in mind, Hiyoko doesn't think she needs friends or close contacts (or, at least, she convinces herself that she doesn't). Before Mahiru, she reasoned that, so long as she could learn to be self-sustaining, she’d never have to rely on people who might betray her. She could eschew human connection and ensure her safety forevermore. But then Mahiru earned her trust in one fell swoop, and suddenly she was prioritizing the pursuit of friendship over the prevention of betrayal, if with just one person. That's big.

So there you have it. The first half of Hiyoko’s arc is complete. She’s already well on her way to vanquishing her paranoia – to having her worldview reformed by Mahiru’s ideals and outgrowing the need for a defense mechanism. Nothing can stop her from improving further…

… is what we're led to believe. But then comes Nekomaru’s sacrifice.

Seeing Nekomaru try to save Akane from Monokuma’s bazooka – and get demolished in the process – throws a wrench in Hiyoko’s newfound hope. It convinces her that teamwork, friendship, cooperation? At best, none of it matters. At worst, it's one big death sentence. This random act of self-sacrifice being the reason she relapses is painfully fitting. Hiyoko has always been a person motivated by fear. Fear of vulnerability, fear of forming connections – fear of a sudden, violent death. That doesn’t mean fear has her completely in its grips; she came closer than ever before to conquering it, thanks to Mahiru. But it does mean that, when given reason to believe that something is fatal – that it could lead to betrayal – she's going to disavow it.

There's a certain irony in this takeaway. After all, if anyone should identify with Nekomaru's actions, it's her. She's a firm believer in protecting that which is near and dear. But those values are what make his fate so devastating in her eyes: Mahiru was near and dear, yet as much as she wanted to protect her, she couldn't. That's forgivable; she's weak. Nekomaru, on the other hand, is strong, and while he succeeded in protecting Akane, at what cost? If a force of nature like Nekomaru can be brought to his knees protecting someone, what hope does Hiyoko have of doing the same? How can she possibly protect the people she loves? She can't. Nekomaru is irrefutable proof of that now.

Hiyoko’s relapse, and subsequent death, are why her relationship with Mahiru is so often considered a waste. I may be something of an outlier in that I’ve never minded Hiyoko’s send-off from a writing standpoint; I only dislike its incorporation into the deadly life, which is a bit different. But staying with the topic of this write-up, I’ll focus less on why I wouldn’t consider Hiyoko’s character as a whole wasted, and more on why I wouldn’t consider her relationship with Mahiru so (though the two go hand-in-hand to some degree.)

The morning after the sacrifice, the Despair Disease motive is introduced by Monokuma, and the afflicted students are brought to the hospital. Those remaining (minus Mikan, who’s tending to the patients) convene in the hospital lobby to discuss a plan of action. Hiyoko, paranoid as she is, insists on a quarantine. Chiaki agrees first, and the rest follow. While still not a joy to be around, Hiyoko is noticeably mellowed out in this scene. Thinking back, I can count on one hand the number of times she says something rude. Her nastiest remark by far is: “I want [the patients] to at least have the decency to consider committing suicide before they start bothering us.” Now, don’t get me wrong, this is a hideous thing to say under any circumstances, and there's no excuse for it. It puts a bad taste in my mouth. That said, with how unusually tame the rest of her dialogue is (hell, she refers to Mikan twice without so much as an insult), I don’t think such an extreme comment was included arbitrarily. No – I think it's part of a pattern.

The bulk of Hiyoko’s arc this chapter has adhered to the principle of “actions speak louder than words.” This made sense before, during its positive half, but it makes even more sense now: because she’s afraid to be vulnerable – more so than usual – the story has to find roundabout ways of showing that she isn’t as heartless as she would prefer to be seen.

Exhibit A: she claimed to believe that all killers deserve to die, but given the opportunity to coerce a killer into suicide, she faltered.

Exhibit B: she callously remarked that Fuyuhiko’s injuries were deserved, but given the option to skip his recovery party, she showed up anyway. She tried to pass it off as an interest in the party itself, but nothing before this scene establishes her as a party animal (quite the opposite; she called the Imposter’s party in 2-1 “laaaaame”), making this an obvious bluff. So obvious, in fact, that Hajime “I know Nagito has the Liar Disease, but I’ll take everything he says at face value” Hinata immediately sees through it.

Exhibit C: at the party, she stressed that Fuyuhiko wasn’t forgiven yet – promising that, if push came to shove, he’d bear the brunt of any dangerous situation – but given the chance to make good on this threat, the idea didn’t even cross her mind. Instead, it was Fuyuhiko who rose to the occasion.

And finally, Exhibit D: she claims to wish the Despair Disease patients would kill themselves, but given the option to ditch – to succumb to her paranoia right away – she takes on a de-facto leader role in the plan to keep the patients safe. She doesn’t just come up with the idea; she spearheads the operation, assigning her classmates different roles and commissioning a communication method between hospital and motel. The player can’t progress to the next scene without speaking specifically to her.

So then… how does this all tie back to Mahiru? Well, I like to think about Mahiru’s impact on Hiyoko in terms of before vs. after Nekomaru's sacrifice. Before, it was Mahiru’s belief in restoration that allowed Hiyoko to forgive Fuyuhiko, doing away with some of her paranoia in the process. After, it’s Mahiru’s belief in teamwork that allows Hiyoko to combat the Despair Disease, paranoia notwithstanding. Recall that, in the immediate wake of Nekomaru’s sacrifice, Hiyoko claimed that there was no point in working together – that she didn’t want to be involved in any team efforts. Then why does she collaborate with her peers in this scene? Because she’s making a last-ditch effort to honor Mahiru – to do what Mahiru would have done.

I say “last-ditch," of course, because – whichever way you slice it – the damage is done. Hiyoko can work with her classmates to prevent another killing, but she can’t trust them – can’t get close to them. Mahiru’s ideals are strong, but in the face of overwhelming fear, they’re only enough for that final bow.

We're given the impression that Hiyoko's withdrawal from the group is an act of selfishness – that she's just trying to avoid the Despair Disease. But the disease turns out to be only part of the reason. Flash-forward to the investigation, we learn that, in her isolation, she was carrying out another last-ditch effort, this time to honor Mahiru by bathing and tying her kimono the way she was taught. In Hiyoko’s now empty motel room, Sonia expresses a regret: she didn’t understand what Hiyoko was going through – not really – and so she gave her some advice about a mirror and left her alone. It all comes together from there.

Because of Hiyoko’s takeaway from Nekomaru’s sacrifice, she closed herself off from her peers – both literally and figuratively – and this sharpened the contrast between her arc and Fuyuhiko’s. Nekomaru’s words made Fuyuhiko realize that this new life of his wasn’t a spare; it was precious. Nekomaru’s actions, on the other hand, made Hiyoko realize that her life was a fragile thing, and instead of becoming self-preserving like Fuyuhiko, she became self-isolating. She believed the only way to avoid a meaningless death was to go it alone, but going it alone – that is, isolating herself to the point where no one could help her – became her undoing.

Was it meaningless? From an overarching narrative standpoint, maybe. Her death has no real impact on the rest of the story, and the way it’s tacked onto the case 3 mystery is downright sloppy. But when it comes to her death by itself – to the individual story it tells – boy does it have meaning, and the character most to thank for that is undoubtedly Mahiru. Mahiru's involvement in Hiyoko’s death makes it feel like something built up to, something character-driven, as opposed to a shoehorned, hollow chapter 3 murder. She makes it so Hiyoko’s “wrong place, wrong time” encounter – while unlucky – is anything but random. The reason Hiyoko found herself in that wrong place at the wrong time wasn't bad luck; it was the direct result of her grief, paranoia and lack of self-sustainability.

Mikan didn't do what she did out of spite, didn't hunt Hiyoko down or kidnap her. Hiyoko just happened to walk in on her killing Ibuki. But this, too, was symbolic. Hiyoko went to the music venue in a bid to prove her independence, yes, but it’s only because Mahiru had become so entangled with her idea of independence that this was the case. If becoming independent were Hiyoko's sole motivation, she wouldn’t have found herself struggling with her kimono to begin with. She would have weathered the storm and gone without bathing until the Despair Disease passed; she’d done it before, after all. But she was desperate to honor Mahiru, to prove that Mahiru’s death wasn’t in vain, because – hey, look – she's self-sustaining now. Honoring Mahiru became her way of regaining control – not just over her hygiene, but her life as well.

Speaking of which, bullying Mikan was one of few things – squishing ants included – that served to give Hiyoko the sense of control she so desired. Even when forgiving Mahiru’s killer, one of her most selfless acts, she insulted Mikan to downplay her feelings and eschew vulnerability. And yet, in her last-ditch effort to prove her independence – to prove her control – Mikan, of all people, became an uncontrollable variable. The roles were reversed: Mikan used Hiyoko to regain control over the situation, and Hiyoko was helpless to stop it. I'd take that over a cliché revenge plotline any day.

All in all, if a death symbolic of Hiyoko's lifelong demons is what her journey in 2-3 was building to from the start (which I firmly believe it was), then in order for Mahiru's impact to not be wasted, she just had to remain instrumental to that journey until the very end. In that sense, I’d say she succeeded.

Conclusion:

Well then, it seems we’ve reached the end. Hooray. :)

This took me over a month to complete, and I'm happy with how it came out. I won’t be beating the “obsessed with Mahiru and Hiyoko” allegations anytime soon, of course, but I'm alright with that. Hopefully I've managed to provide a solid defense, as well as justify my obsession appreciation. Like always…

I’ll admit, when I first got to this scene, I viewed Lucy’s upbraiding as needlessly harsh. I mean, Atsushi was only trying to help, right? Right. Thing is, their interaction here is a callback to the Guild arc. Following Lucy’s defeat, Atsushi was conflicted. He knew that beating her was the only way, but he still felt sorry that she was about to lose her home. And so, he directed the same offer (i.e., “Is there anything I can do?”) at her. At the time, it seemed like Lucy ran away because she was embarrassed, but in retrospect, there was clearly more going through her head. That moment was a precursor to her current (and, in my opinion, very interesting) dynamic with Atsushi.

Put simply, Lucy is one of few people who perceives Atsushi’s victimhood, and as a result, she understands him on a level most don’t. She’s pieced together that, for Atsushi, heroism isn’t just a virtue, but a coping mechanism; an attempt to free himself from the demons of his past. That’s why he’s always diving headfirst into danger, trying to save those in need (and relying on the Tiger’s regeneration to bypass the consequences). She’s also uniquely positioned in that – because it was Atsushi’s vulnerability that “saved” her, not his strength – she has no qualms about confronting Atsushi when the hero in him eclipses the person. When strength turns to recklessness, or when fierce empathy turns to overreach. Though her methods could use some work (she has no idea how to convey care for Atsushi without yelling at him), her motives are clear: she sees Atsushi as more than just a hero, and expects more from him than just heroics. 

In other words, she’s not dragging Atsushi away here because she disapproves of his trying to help; she’s doing it because she sees the value in letting people fight their own battles. Atsushi’s offer was well-intentioned, but at that moment, Kyōka needed space – not someone to swoop in and save her.

Also, keep in mind, Lucy and Kyōka don’t like each other very much – not at this point in the story, anyway. They have no reason to fight anymore, since Lucy isn’t actively threatening to strangle Atsushi, but it’s no secret that they’re only tolerating each other for Atsushi’s sake. And yet, Lucy advocates for Kyōka. She has every reason to be jealous: if Lucy’s parents ever loved her, she has nothing to show for it. What’s more, Kyōka just received confirmation that her ability symbolizes something pure – something apart from violence. Lucy, meanwhile, is still too ashamed of her actions in the Guild arc to use Anne’s Room as anything but a coffee bean receptacle. Her ability is still defined by the labels and uses ascribed to it by others – people who didn’t have her best interests at heart. At the orphanage, it was a freak’s playground. In the Guild, an instrument of cruelty. Now? She doesn’t know what it is (and won't know until the Sky Casino arc). She should envy the fact that Kyōka got her answer. But if she does, she shows no sign of it. She sets aside their “rivalry” and makes space for Kyōka to process her feelings.

---

My response:

Ah, okay. I think I see the discrepancy now. Thanks for the explanation(s).

Personally, when I’m evaluating fictional characters, I focus on what they set out to achieve. If a character feels like they’ve fulfilled their role and/or adequately explored their core themes, I consider them “complete.” While I understand having personal gripes with how a storyline is handled (believe me, I do), I think there’s a difference between “I dislike how this character was written, therefore they are wasted potential” and “this character was trying to achieve something, but fell short/didn’t do it properly, therefore they are wasted potential.” The former isn’t necessarily invalid, but the latter feels a bit more logical.

I notice that your problem with a lot of these characters is (ultimately) that they died. That’s where our opinions differ the most. In a series like Danganronpa, I don’t see death as an automatic negative (writing-wise, I mean). When a premise more or less requires that a certain number of characters die early, the best way to ensure the cast is fully fleshed-out is to use death as a means for further exploration. Kodaka has proven himself able to do this, if not always perfectly.

Hiyoko and Ryoma, for example, are characters whose deaths I feel enhanced their development instead of undermining it. Hiyoko’s arc, short-lived yet powerful, was about her integrating Mahiru’s ideals in order to forgive Fuyuhiko, only to relapse on witnessing Nekomaru’s sacrifice. Her development wasn’t cut off; it was subverted, and from there it segued into a tragic death, symbolic of her lifelong demons. Ryoma’s, meanwhile, was about his search for a reason to live, upended by the realization that there was nothing waiting for him outside. Again, to me, this read less like wasted potential, and more like intentional tragedy.

Something similar can be said for Sayaka and Tenko: their deaths were poignantly relevant to the people they were growing into – Sayaka a case study on how the killing game weaponizes desperation, Tenko a person who wears her heart on her sleeve. If the creators were truly that tired of Sayaka, I don’t think they would have gone to the trouble of giving her a proper send-off. And as far as I’m concerned, Tenko’s arc of making amends with Himiko was complete by the time she died.

Of course, that’s not to say Danganronpa always pulls this kind of thing off. Taka’s variant of the “tragic arc,” in my opinion, is handled poorly, as his transformation into Kiyondo bore little relevance to his journey up to that point. And as much as I love Angie, her death is also mishandled; it was a “wrong place, wrong time” scenario like Hiyoko’s, but unlike Hiyoko, Angie’s reason for being in that wrong place at that wrong time had almost nothing to do with her character. Plus, her main legacy – the student council – fell apart way too quickly afterwards. That’s why I agree with you that those two are wasted potential.

With Chihiro, I didn’t feel like his story was overshadowed. If anything, I thought his dynamic with Mondo received more fleshing-out than Mondo’s dynamic with Taka. His contribution of Alter Ego didn’t really do anything besides keep him relevant post-mortem, but AE feels like a separate enough entity that I don’t consider that a mark on Chihiro’s character.

As for Mondo, I think his relationship with Taka is underdeveloped, but he makes up for that via his relationship with Chihiro, and his role in chapter 2 is solid enough that I don’t see his lack of presence in chapter 1 as a huge issue.

With Nekomaru, I don’t think his relevance being relegated to two chapters is really a problem. That’s the case with almost every DR2 character who’s not Hajime, Nagito or Chiaki. As long as a character uses their limited screentime well, I’m not inclined to call them sidelined or wasted, and Nekomaru did a lot with his. His death is also a good example of what I mentioned earlier.

I see your point about Teruteru. It would have been nice if his motive were foreshadowed more + his crassness toned down. That said, I liked his “mini-arc” of being in denial about the killing game, only for reality to come crashing down on him in the first trial – and I think he fulfilled his role as a tragic chapter 1 blackened nicely. Same goes for Kaede; her twist role as blackened does a great job highlighting her flaws, and like Nekomaru, I think she makes the most of her limited screentime. If you just… inherently dislike the bait-and-switch they did with her and Shuichi, then it makes sense that you’d consider her wasted potential, but I didn’t mind it, so I see her more as her own character and less as “the protagonist that could’ve been.”

With Kokichi, to be honest, I’m not really sure what you mean by “I can’t respect his character.” That feels kind of irrelevant to the issue of his potential, no offense (/gen). I also don’t think his motive video was meant to convey that he might have been “normal.” It just provided a bit more context for his actions – not to redeem them, but to explain them. Also, while his death didn’t hit me particularly hard, I’d have to disagree that it lacked emotional impact, given his final conversation with Kaito.

Himiko’s not my favorite character, but I find her decently compelling. Her arc isn’t executed perfectly, but it did what it set out to do. I also don’t think her impact was minimal. She struck me as an important emotional counterweight in the bleaker final chapters, and she made some pretty useful discoveries, above all Tsumugi’s secret room.