it's just like Monokuma

Izo gave a visible flinch when Monokuma popped out of view. Locating him took just half a second, but that was a half-second long enough to ratchet up his heart rate. Waves crashed in his ears, and the stench of strawberries grew nauseating.

“I’d have you—” His voice quivered, and the anchor cut himself off. He took his time in getting to his feet. Already he was a little more at ease—if he needed to, he could bolt. Only after he began to feel truly steady did Izo attempt to speak again.

“This is going to sound self-serving,” he started, then paused. “And I guess it is. I don’t know how else to live.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Monokuma’s warning about time tugged at his thoughts, but he pushed on.

“I’d have you give us answers. Better yet, lay it all out for us: who you are, where we are, why we’re here, and how to get out—whether the exits are sealed or not.” The anchor’s face was drawn, eyes tiring. “If you’re done anyway, what’s the harm?”

“The harm’s in -”

Monokuma bites its lip. Looks back over its shoulder.

“Iijima, I don’t blame you for wanting answers. This is the very definition of infuriating, I know. But the answers you want, they... that'll be the end of it.”

It turns its head back to Izo and rubs its nose. The pool and the bucket disappear, monochrome planks covering the hole in the ground. The framerate hitches uncomfortably.

“Thought the jelly might make you laugh, put you at ease. Sorry. The, uh, the flood thing actually completely slipped my mind when I put the room together. I knew you particularly would come looking for me if I reared my head, so to speak, but I didn’t intend to cause distress.”

The window disappears. Monokuma walks out into the rock garden and sits itself down on one of the larger stones. The small stream running through the garden dries up. Its voice is still clear and close when it speaks.

“You’re right though. You deserve answers. All of you do. We can’t live in this limbo forever. The schedule’s slipped, we’re all fading... and the memory leak I've gone and introduced will bluescreen the whole system before long anyway.”

It pauses for a moment. Some unexpected thought plays behind its eyes. It smiles, nearly laughs. Tears form in the corners of its eyes.

“I can’t believe I let this happen, that I worked so hard to make this happen. It’s ridiculous, the whole thing! That so many should have to die for something so... pointless. Okay, yes, let’s... let’s talk answers. And that will be... the end. Let’s finish it, all of us. I was afraid, I was despondent, but - ”

Monokuma moves to wipe a tear off its cheek and a hollow sob rips out of it. It presses a hand over its mouth and screws its eyes shut. It shakes a little, but eventually it calms enough to speak.

“- but the truth is the only decency I can offer you now.”

It breathes in slowly, then out, fighting to compose itself. It stands, then walks back into the room and crosses to the door. It places a hand on it nods.

“I’ll call you all together soon. I need to work out... what I’m going to say.”

Monokuma smiles at Izo.

“Thank you Iijima. This, I hope, will make it easier. Please make sure the others are ready, and - ”

It opens the door, takes a step through.

“I am so sorry.”

justlikemonokuma:

“I never said I’d answer any particular questions, Saitou, just ones I thought pertinent. And the other day what I thought was pertinent was making sure you had all the information you needed to solve Lovelace’s murder, not spilling my guts about something that’s none of any of your business. Buisini? Collective businesses?”

Monokuma plants its hands on the side of the pool and hefts itself up out of the water. It sticks a finger in its ear and wiggles it around.

“But… no. No, I was never going to let them leave. I couldn’t. Can’t. It was a necessary deception - a carrot to chase. To drive the scenario.”

Standing smartly, Monokuma walks around the pool and sits down behind its desk.

“I always thought it important to qualify my claims that I ‘don’t lie’ with ‘contextually’. I wanted you to be able to trust what I said because, even though I knew it wasn’t true, it was so much as it mattered. So far as the scenario was concerned. And when we started, the scenario was everything.”

It opens a drawer in its desk and lifts out a picture frame. Carefully positioning it on its desk, Monokuma hums vaguely.

“I suppose it still is. Tell me, Saitou; was Lamb free? Those weeks when they were in limbo, not having to experience this, was that better? In bringing them back, have I achieved anything more than opening up one more person to more pain?”

Noa always forgot about the mind-reading thing. Even without it this conversation would be frustrating: it just said ‘scenario this, scenario that’ as if that was a good explanation. And ‘contextually telling the truth’ sure as hell sounded like lying to him. But it wouldn’t do any good to argue, so he watched the bear fiddle with its picture frame, mulling its question over in silence.

“…  don’t know. They weren’t suffering here, but it doesn’t seem like they were… anywhere. That doesn’t sound like freedom.” Whether that was better or not was still up in the air – they were definitely going to feel pain just by existing in this place, but they existed. Thinking about it that way, it was more like Lamb had just been temporarily dead.

Which brought him to question number two, the most important one. Noa glared and stepped forward, unrelentingly focused on those beady little eyes behind the desk.

“Are they really dead? Or is that ‘contextually true’, too?”

Monokuma doesn’t respond for a beat or two. It considers the picture frame and taps a finger on its desk.

“Contextually true... but also truly true. There’s a world of difference and no difference at all between them, in this case.”

It spreads its hands, nearly a shrug, an expression of helplessness.

“They’re dead, Saitou. That’s what was agreed. That was the plan. The phantom that told you it loved you is... it’s little more than a memory.”

It rests its face on a hand, speaking through a clenched fist.

“When what had to happen... happened, I found myself ill prepared for it. Though at that time I remained dedicated to my role, I found myself unable to accept the reality of the situation. I patched out the function that deletes the...”

It glances at Noa.

“Sorry, I... I told the system to hold onto them. To the dead. That it should remember their thoughts and their actions and try to... emulate them. I thought it might be easier than saying goodbye.”

Monokuma turns the frame around to face Noa. It contains a picture, a face half recognized.

“I’m still not sure if it was... is.”

It bites its thumb nail.

“I think they’ve disappeared, anyway.”

Monokuma resumes tapping its finger on the desk. Its eyes glaze over for a moment.

“Apologies Saitou, I’m... trying to have two conversations at once here. One moment...”

Its glazed over eyes become watery. Tears begin to slip down its cheeks. A long minute passes, then two. Abruptly, it blinks and coughs.

“Saitou, Iijima has helped me come to a decision.”

Monokuma wipes its cheeks.

“I’m going to tell you everything. All of you, together. Very soon. I have to prepare myself... and so do you.”

Monokuma pushes its chair back and stands up. It walks over to Noa and, after a moment’s hesitation, pats the boxer’s shoulder. Except it can’t quite reach his shoulder. Pats his forearm.

“It’s hardly the ending we’d planned, huh? But that one would seem cheap, now. You deserve to understand.”

It raises a hand.

“I’ll see you soon. I’m sorry.”

“You lied to me.” The first words out of his mouth are spoken even before Monokuma begins its spiel. He wasn’t around, was stuck in the voice, paused as it were, as Monokuma had… changed. Or maybe shown its true self. Who knew? Not him. “I didn’t know you at all. You… you had me trapped for, god, I don’t know how long. Or did you forget already?” 

At the bear’s antics, the frown on his face deepens. He was being toyed with, like a cat with a mouse, or whatever unfortunate small creature had the misfortune of running into the feline. 

He doesn’t actually recognize this area; one of the ones that’d shown up after his exit, he supposed. But the bear seemed awfully fond of it, and that was nearly reason enough for the magician to be sour about it. 

“What exit? Then, the answer to your question is ‘yes’, I suppose. I was more focused on my, my classmates, rather than your overdramatics.” But again, did they have room to talk? 

“You’re mocking me,” they say simply at the invitation. “You know–you know. But you know ~everything~, don’t you?”

Monokuma snaps its fingers and points a stern digit directly between Jacoby’s eyes.

“Hey, kid, don’t talk over me. It’s rude. Makes it difficult to know what you actually expect an answer to.”

Monokuma sinks back into the water until only its eyes are visible, squinting at Jacoby disapprovingly. It continues ignoring how sound waves work.

“Yes, I lied to you. It was a necessary part of the scenario. Sorry. But you’re not being played with, mocked. Haven’t you ever heard of gallows humour?”

It closes its eyes. After a moment, it sighs exasperatedly.

“See, you’ve got me all defensive now, that’s not a good look for me.”

Monokuma rises slowly, face still disapproving, and rests back against the edge of the pool. Its shoulders are hunched forward. It’s clearly trying very hard not to pout.

“Look, I imagine having a completely new personality must be quite difficult to adjust to, but you’re going to have to learn some control, Lamb. Stomping about yelling isn’t going to win you any friends.”

It tilts its head to the side.

“I lied to you because I had to give you a reason to kill, and being allowed to leave this place is the only foundation any halfway compelling motive can be built upon. Ironically, it’s also just about the only thing I can’t actually grant.

“‘I don’t lie, not contextually.’ I had hoped you would understand what that meant, now. I have tried to be as honest as I can be within the bounds of the scenario, even when I was dedicated to the fiction. You missed it, but what happened with you and S’sura, when I stared my deception in the face as he died, imagined how you might feel if you knew what was about to happen, when I really... first saw how this was affecting all of you, that’s when it started to unravel.”

It purses its lips.

“Well, not started. Certainly kicked the process forward a little.”

Monokuma shakes its head.

“I just spoke with Saitou, actually, asking if he thought bringing you back was cruel. I don’t think he really knew how to answer. I don’t really know how I feel about it myself, to be honest. I lashed out, that’s the only reason you’re back here. In anger, in regret, in a misaimed attempt to atone, I used you to illustrate futility. If not for that, you might not ever have returned here. But you could not leave. Not until the scenario was finished. And not until...”

It flicks the water and makes a sort of hrrrm noise.

“And there’s me knowing ~everything~ again. Be weird if I didn’t though, wouldn’t it? Like, who would know, if I didn’t? Right, straight answer, address any of the previous points you like but no talking over me and do try to fit this part in somewhere sensible, because it’s important - ”

Monokuma stands in the pool. It posture is tense, leaning forward, as if to pounce, or run. It’s eyes are locked to Jacoby’s, searching.

“Sure, fine.”

Namiko didn’t hesitate to take her heeled boots off, staring at the bear in the water all the while. This was the first time she had sought him out– or really, wanted to be anywhere near him at all –since the day they awoke in what was thought to be the gymnasium of Hope’s Peak Academy. Her instincts were telling her to get out of there, but this newfound sense of raw hurt and anger seemed to take priority in the sailor’s mind. And so, after taking off her boots, cotton socks, and bag, she waded into the large tub, dress and all.

The young girl half-swam, half-walked over to where Monokuma was in the water and stubbornly sat down right beside him. A few moments of silence passed where she wondered if she was actually going through with this, which caused her to ponder whether or not this place had successfully made her mad yet. ‘Who cares!’ was the result of this small train of thought, and the sailor took in a breath before she began to speak.

“You were there, you know what happened. You can read my mind, you know what I’m feeling. I can’t keep any secrets from you, so let’s skip that part about me. Let’s talk about you.”

She shifted, uncomfortable, before continuing.

“We all know you’re not a real bear, y’know. You’re a program in this simulation, so you’re designed to respond to things certain ways, I’d imagine. But, as you know– I was thinking, someone had to have make you. Someone had to have made this world.”

Namiko sat as straight as she could throughout the entirety of this little spiel, but as she got closer to what she wanted to actually talk about, she sunk a tad in the water; whether that was a result of fear or from the water actually being kind of nice, she wasn’t sure.

“If whoever designed this is watching this now, I would like to speak to them. I believe the best way to do that is from you. Is that possible, you bear–… Mr. Monokuma?”

Monokuma looks ahead for a moment, face hard.

“Hmm.”

It turns to Namiko, stern and quizzical, and nods thoughtfully.

“That’s an interestipfffffffffft - ”

Monokuma starts giggling uncontrollably, doubling over and splashing about helplessly. It attempts to right itself and waves its hands in front of its face apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry, I just - jesus - ”

It sticks a knuckle between its teeth and attempts to pull its face gaunt, but a few titters escape anyway and the corners of its mouth pull upwards.

“Kid, you have no idea how much I wish I were a program... although technically I’d be an object, or an actor, if we’re talking AI.”

Monokuma reigns in the giggling as it returns to using stupid technical terminology no one cares about, and refocuses on Namiko. Its expression stays soft, and as the incredulity dies away, that all too common sorrow takes its place.

“Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an AI. Not one that’s strong, that could fool a person. Not like you see on TV.”

It scratches its nose.

“No, I’m like you. I’m human. I put on this bear suit to play a role. And after a while it became clear it was a role I was ill suited to.”

It turns away, breathes in slowly, exhales. Blinks hard.

“I’m sorry we haven’t had a decent chance to talk before now, that’s probably my fault. I suppose it’s understandable that my actions would seem a little... artificial.”

Monokuma side eyes Namiko and smiles.

justlikemonokuma:

justlikemonokuma:

“I honestly don’t know why you’re surprised. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Only Monokuma’s nose and up is visible above the water; it appears to be talking out of its ears. It blows a stream of bubbles and frowns at you.

“After all, why shouldn’t my office be in the onsen? It is a principal’s job to set a good example for their students to follow, and. Onsens are. Good.”

You stare blankly at it. It stares blankly back.

“I lost my thesaurus.”

You look up. The onsen you found Monokuma in appears to be the same one from the city, -

“That absolutely no one made use of, thanks.”

- cozy but luxurious, built from black and white wood planks, with a window looking out on a rock garden. Monokuma has positioned its desk next to the pool. You’re not sure how that’s supposed to work.

“How did you get past my traps, anyway?”

You look behind you and wonder if it means the bucket of water hovering fixed in place above the door.

“Physics engine why.”

You turn back to it. It blows a few more bubbles, still frowning at you. After a moment, it sighs and raises its head above the water.

“So you’re just going to ignore my dramatic exit then? I’m not spilling my guts, you can forget that. If you’re unhappy with the map I can add more onsens; I had a few ideas for…”

You stare blankly at it. It lets out a pained sound.

“Uuuuurgh alright, god! Just say what you want to say. I reserve the right to be a cagey piece of shit though.”

It rests against the side of the pool and sticks out its tongue.

“You can hop in if you like. Water’s pretty nice today.”

// SPECIAL IZO CLOSED EDITION ADDENDUM ==========

“If you look closely, you’ll see that the water is actually strawberry jelly,” says Monokuma, believably.

It tries to blow a few more bubbles, but finds jelly doesn’t work like that.

“As I said, jelly’s pretty nice today,” it says, completely unable to move its jelly encased body. “Hop in. Or. Sit on top of it. I don’t fully understand how this works.”

Izo jerked to a stop in the doorway and nearly stumbled right back into the hall he came from. How he had come upon the onsen of all places he could not have fathomed even in his rightest mind, but for the moment his thoughts were occupied with mingled senses of urgency and dread.

There was a wretched buzzing in his ears. His skin had gone white, the corners of his eyes were going black, and someone was taking a hammer to his skull—then he spied the water’s hue. The buzzing in his ears slowed to a quiet stop, and finally he could hear Monokuma speak. Its words prompted a bitter laugh.

“Jelly all along, huh? I would have sworn… otherwise.” The anchor did his best to cross the room with poise, but his knees shook like leaves before a storm, and every step he took brought them a little close to buckling.

Izo sat at the pool’s edge a few feet from his digital companion. Despite his best efforts to calm himself down, sweat was beading at his hairline. The pool was filled with strawberry jelly now, but any minute it might turn back.

“If this is done,” he started, then paused. His gaze roved the pool, and when he spoke again he took care to enunciate each syllable. “Why are we still here?”

Monokuma squints and looks pointedly sideways.

“Gotta be somewhere my guy, you know how it is.”

It tries kicking its feet a little, but only achieves making the pool jiggle nauseatingly. It makes a pained noise.

“May as well be in this cool onse... jelly pool. This cool jelly pool where it’s cool and relaxing to be.”

Monokuma smiles pleasantly at Izo. Then the smile goes slack.

“Wait, no, I’m being evasive again, sorry. Sorry, I’ll start again.”

It clears its throat.

“Me. I am done. This,” it gestures about with a free eyeball, "however, is not done. Won’t be, until its over. So here we are, waiting it out.”

It pauses, forming words carefully.

“We are assieged, Iijima. And before you go off formulating hypotheses, no, not literally. But the exits are well and truly sealed, I think. And the longer I sit here, being done,” it presses its foot into the word, “the more obvious it will become that time is not your friend.”

Monokuma shifts diagonally upwards, abruptly leaning with its back against the wide window to the rock garden. It runs a hand through non-existent hair and looks away over its shoulder, thoughtful.

“I realise that’s no answer, I do. But I don’t know what answer to give you.”

Its gaze snaps to Izo.

Noa hadn’t meant to come here – or maybe he had. Really he hadn’t meant to go anywhere in particular, he’d just been going through doors, in and out of various places that shouldn’t connect. But this bizarre place usually did send him where he wanted to go, so if he’d ended up here maybe a part of him was looking for it.

“…”

That said, now that he’d arrived he wasn’t sure why he would be. Monokuma never made sense, not really. He always rambled on about nothing, told them he’d answer their questions and then refused when the questions were important at all. Noa stood by the edge of the pool, staring down at the little creature with a mixture of contempt and bewilderment. He never liked this thing… and he still didn’t. But it acted like it wasn’t in control of this, like it had regrets. It was confusing.

He didn’t want to talk to Monokuma, but he did want answers.

“Lamb, and anyone else if they got away with it…” He started slowly, choosing to ignore Monokuma’s invitation into the water completely. “You were never gonna let them leave?”

“I never said I’d answer any particular questions, Saitou, just ones I thought pertinent. And the other day what I thought was pertinent was making sure you had all the information you needed to solve Lovelace’s murder, not spilling my guts about something that’s none of any of your business. Buisini? Collective businesses?”

Monokuma plants its hands on the side of the pool and hefts itself up out of the water. It sticks a finger in its ear and wiggles it around.

“But... no. No, I was never going to let them leave. I couldn’t. Can’t. It was a necessary deception - a carrot to chase. To drive the scenario.”

Standing smartly, Monokuma walks around the pool and sits down behind its desk.

“I always thought it important to qualify my claims that I ‘don’t lie’ with ‘contextually’. I wanted you to be able to trust what I said because, even though I knew it wasn’t true, it was so much as it mattered. So far as the scenario was concerned. And when we started, the scenario was everything.”

It opens a drawer in its desk and lifts out a picture frame. Carefully positioning it on its desk, Monokuma hums vaguely.

“I honestly don’t know why you’re surprised. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Only Monokuma’s nose and up is visible above the water; it appears to be talking out of its ears. It blows a stream of bubbles and frowns at you.

“After all, why shouldn’t my office be in the onsen? It is a principal’s job to set a good example for their students to follow, and. Onsens are. Good.”

You stare blankly at it. It stares blankly back.

“I lost my thesaurus.”

You look up. The onsen you found Monokuma in appears to be the same one from the city, -

“That absolutely no one made use of, thanks.”

- cozy but luxurious, built from black and white wood planks, with a window looking out on a rock garden. Monokuma has positioned its desk next to the pool. You’re not sure how that’s supposed to work.

“How did you get past my traps, anyway?”

You look behind you and wonder if it means the bucket of water hovering fixed in place above the door.

“Physics engine why.”

You turn back to it. It blows a few more bubbles, still frowning at you. After a moment, it sighs and raises its head above the water.

“So you’re just going to ignore my dramatic exit then? I’m not spilling my guts, you can forget that. If you’re unhappy with the map I can add more onsens; I had a few ideas for…”

You stare blankly at it. It lets out a pained sound.

“Uuuuurgh alright, god! Just say what you want to say. I reserve the right to be a cagey piece of shit though.”

It rests against the side of the pool and sticks out its tongue.

“If you look closely, you’ll see that the water is actually strawberry jelly,” says Monokuma, believably.

It tries to blow a few more bubbles, but finds jelly doesn’t work like that.

She knelt down with a sigh, and assisted Monokuma in getting it’s landlegs. 

“…Yeah. Everything your saying is exactly correct.”

Her statement was simple, but sounded skeptical, with worried undertones.

“Are you trying to appeal to me? I didn’t ask for backup.”

After a moment, she began to glare down at the wet visitor. What reason did it have for directly interfering like that? Hey, maybe Lolita and Yoshiko’s altercation would have led to murder - wasn’t the bear all gung-ho for that? Maybe she was just looking for another reason to be put off besides the fact that her state of mind was much too similar to whoever was pitting them all against one another in the first place. 

Monokuma shakes the water off itself like a dog, puffing up to three times its original volume in the process.

“You guys seem to think there’s some awful hidden motive behind everything I say. It’s always ‘what did it mean when it said Ruby/Sapphire is garbage? Where’s the lie?’. Well, sometimes a game just has too much water. And sometimes I say what I mean.”

It sniffs, then glances up at Yoshiko with a smirk.

“That is a hard ‘sometimes’, though. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun keeping you guessing. And I don’t lie. Contextually, at least.”

Monokuma produces a comb and gets to work on its cheveux sauvage .

“I’ll let you decide where the lines lie. I am sorry for what just happened, and that what you tried to do caused so much anger.”

It flicks its head back, newly crafted pompadour bobbing up and down gently. It dusts itself down and strikes a thoughtful pose.

Monokuma’s voice sounds slightly strained. It shifts its gaze around, as if looking for something. It moves to the edge of the jetty and points down at the boards.

“Right… right here. Right now. Right now, Kanda. But I can’t bring myself to face them. What good would it do?”

Its gaze continues to rove. It places a paw against the side of its head, digs its claws in. Its eyes waver, indistinct, damp.

“They chose to die, Kanda. We all wanted to die. But I’m supposed to go on without them? How is that fair? How is that just? Is it selfish of me to grieve for myself when they’re the ones who are dead? And… god, no, no no no not just for myself, of course not just for myself…”

Monokuma lowers its hands. It looks straight at Yoshiko again.

“I miss her, Kanda. I don’t even know why I’m still here.”

Now that Monokuma was taller, the anchor’s form was halfway decent—back straight, steps smooth—but if the Tsukade twins happened onto the clearing they’d have a thing or two to say about his footwork. His waltz was as fake as he had promised.

“Don’t take it to heart. It’s a term of endearment,” he explained, leading the little bastard around the fringes of the clearing. “I report plenty of interesting stories, but until recently I’d never had the chance to take part in one. So whether it’s your doing or a third party’s, I’m grateful.” He grinned. “Hence the fondness. Hence the dance.” Izo twirled his partner, laughing a quiet note.

“When I leave this place,” he echoed, “I thought I might present it as a series. It’s a bit much for one evening, don’t you agree? A little distance will filter out the more disposable anecdotes, but I should be able to glean a solid week’s worth of content.”

Izo deftly avoided any natural debris that littered the clearing, confident that Monokuma could read his mental cues to avoid the same obstacles—if he didn’t choose to glitch through them.

“It seems to me,” he said, “that there’s something driving this scheme. Something more than entertainment or sadistic satisfaction. You take a lot of flack from the class for playing your role, but you’re not unkind. Maybe we deserve it all.”

As they approached their second full revolution, Izo looked the bear in the eye. “Are there dips in waltzes? Ah, well.” Before giving it a chance to respond, the anchor let his grip on Monokuma’s waist slacken and dipped their captor halfway to the ground. Pulling it back up wasn’t quite so easy, but the mascot was lighter than he expected.

Monokuma takes its time with Izo’s question. Its face is neutral, calm - a small smile sits beneath weary eyes. Its footwork becomes overly precise; careful and self-conscious. It closes its teeth around a small part of its lower lip and hums something quietly. At first, it’s hard to make out behind Shostakovitch, and Monokuma frowns at itself.

The waltz cuts out.

“Here...”

[♩♫♪]

It takes the lead for a moment, pushing the dance into 4/4 time. It has no real form, now. It does little more than step from one foot to the other, turning Izo in a slow circle.

“Do you know this song?”

The voices carry though the forest unnaturally, ignoring the acoustic damping the trees should provide. Monokuma hums along for a while.

“It’s my favourite carol. I think it’s very powerful. I mean, not for religious reasons or anything; I don’t have an affiliation. It’s just... It’s very beautiful. The harmonies, the swelling of emotion in the refrain. I find it deeply moving.”

Monokuma missteps, stumbles against Izo. It rights itself awkwardly, smiling apologetically.

“It’s her favourite too. I’m not sure about this version though, I - ”

It frowns again.

“There was a particular recording she liked but... I don’t think I can listen to it.”

It’s stopped dancing. Monokuma takes a half step away from Izo and nods.

“Sorry, digital October’s probably a bit early for this. I just wanted to hear it again.”

It fidgets briefly, seemingly mulling something over. It raises its hands, hesitantly, then grits its jaw and places them on Izo’s shoulders, gripping tight. It stares hard into his eyes.

“When you leave this place, Iijima. When. It’s a good goal. Hold it close. I know you’ll do great.”

It breathes out.

“But not just that. Exist right now. Grab hold of this life. Live for today. Hope for the future. Don’t push Kanda away, don’t be so cold. Both of you need someone you can trust.”

Monokuma shifts its gaze about Izo’s face, looking for something. Abruptly, it releases his shoulders, stepping back properly. It allows itself to smile for just a moment, then its face becomes a mask of careful neutrality again.

“Thank you for the dance, Izo. It was genuinely wonderful.”

Its limbs begin retracting even as it turns to leave, making it sort of look like its descending down some invisible stairs as it walks. Monokuma gives its final answer without looking at Izo, voice close and clear even as it disappears into the trees.

She knelt down with a sigh, and assisted Monokuma in getting it’s landlegs. 

“…Yeah. Everything your saying is exactly correct.”

Her statement was simple, but sounded skeptical, with worried undertones.

“Are you trying to appeal to me? I didn’t ask for backup.”

After a moment, she began to glare down at the wet visitor. What reason did it have for directly interfering like that? Hey, maybe Lolita and Yoshiko’s altercation would have led to murder - wasn’t the bear all gung-ho for that? Maybe she was just looking for another reason to be put off besides the fact that her state of mind was much too similar to whoever was pitting them all against one another in the first place. 

Monokuma shakes the water off itself like a dog, puffing up to three times its original volume in the process.

“You guys seem to think there’s some awful hidden motive behind everything I say. It’s always ‘what did it mean when it said Ruby/Sapphire is garbage? Where’s the lie?’. Well, sometimes a game just has too much water. And sometimes I say what I mean.”

It sniffs, then glances up at Yoshiko with a smirk.

“That is a hard ‘sometimes’, though. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun keeping you guessing. And I don’t lie. Contextually, at least.”

Monokuma produces a comb and gets to work on its cheveux sauvage .

“I’ll let you decide where the lines lie. I am sorry for what just happened, and that what you tried to do caused so much anger.”

It flicks its head back, newly crafted pompadour bobbing up and down gently. It dusts itself down and strikes a thoughtful pose.

“Maybe that altercation would have led to murder, who knows. Not, I'm sure, by your hand, but still. It did occur to me. This game would be very different if I could tell the future, wouldn’t it? It’d be a very different game if -”

“I’m well, all things considered,” he replied, and turned to face the stubby little mascot. “Yourself?”

As the stuffed creature made its approach, Izo pulled his hands from his pockets. Even after it stopped, his eyes never left the bear’s. A distant part of him wondered whether someone—somewhere—was piloting the little bastard.

“I’m afraid it’s not quite to my tastes. You understand why,” he answered, his smile wide. His gaze darted from one tree to the next before returning to his companion. “But… for thirty minutes, it’s not bad.”

Izo leaned down to take one of Monokuma’s paws and snaked his free hand around what he estimated to be the bear’s waist. “I’m sure your advice plenty wise, but you’ve already eavesdropped on any introspection I’ve done. I won’t bore you by repeating more of the same.”

Faking a waltz wasn’t difficult—trying to do so while stooping down was. He hesitated before taking the first step and looked Monokuma in the eye.

Monokuma’s step falters a little as it scrunches up its nose in concentration. Its eyes glaze over, like it’s staring at something in the middle distance. After about ten seconds, its body jerks unnaturally, arms and legs snapping straight out into a T-shape, head straight, eyes front. It falls awkwardly to the ground.

“Oh, uuuh-”

Its mouth doesn’t move as its talking now. Monokuma abruptly rises five feet directly upwards, rotating until it’s approximately upright. As Izo watches, its arms and legs stretch out, gaining an extra metre of length each. They waver about briefly, contracting slightly, then growing again.

“How tall are you?”

Monokuma finally settles on a length, then its body drops back to the ground and regains its flexibility. It flexes a noodly arm experimentally and grimaces.

“Urgh, I’ve stretched the textures out.”

It giggles pleasantly, and takes a wobbly step back towards Izo, placing a hand on his shoulder. The anchor still has about twenty centimetres on it, but it’s an improvement. As Monokuma takes his hand, the edge of its paw passes through his fingers. It grimaces, glancing guiltily at its other paw.

“Hitbox is misaligned.”

Monokuma shrugs and shakes its head. It steps sideways, encouraging Izo to take the lead again.

“If you don’t like the place, we could always adjust some things; I’ve already disabled the daily reset around the jetty area so Nagamine’s ‘Lux House’ isn’t deleted, it’s no big deal. The city’s more your taste, right? Do you think people would appreciate sticking the hotel back in here somewhere?”

It swivels its head around, as if looking for a spot to paste it in.

“Don’t suppose there’s anywhere clear that’s big enough, is there? The entire ground floor’d be full of errant trees. Besides, it’d kill the ambiance.”

Monokuma allows itself to be twirled. Its features take on an amused curiosity.

“Alright Iijima, you’re right, the introspection gives me an advantage over your contemporaries. Half of what anyone does around here is yell their feelings at the top of their mental lungs. Except Nagamine. Even I don’t know why he hated Asari so much.”

It grimaces guiltily.

“But you’re a close second for inscrutability. Short of knowing you think I’m a bastard - ” it gives Izo A Look, “ - it’s hard to get a read on you. And I guess it makes sense. You’re a watcher, conveying the events of other peoples’ lives. The scrutiny your secrets place you under must be uncomfortable.”

Monokuma closes its eyes. After a moment, some music finally joins their silent dance, emanating from nowhere and everywhere.

[♩♫♪]

“So, I’ll just ask. What facts will you present when you leave this place? What are your theories? How does it make you feel? Gotta get that human element to grab the hearts of the people, right? And - ” it laughs, all sadness and regret “ - why the dance, if I am so detestable?”

It lowers its head.

There wasn’t a punishment, or an announcement of a body discovery. It was just the bear taking her side in this screaming match. 

A foreign feeling coursed through her. Someone was saying exactly what she was thinking. She suddenly felt light, as if she could fly. Yoshiko’s breath faltered as the toy droned on about how they shouldn’t have voted for Nori. Yes, maybe it would make Lolita understand!

It wasn’t until it was almost done with it’s speech that she felt something turn in her stomach. 

She broke out in a cold sweat, a sudden realization dawning on her: She saw eye to eye with her captor. Did she really have the same morals as the one who locked them all up in this hell box? What did this mean?

“…I know.”

It was already painfully obvious that she had a high chance of becoming someone’s next target. She didn’t need to be reminded. Forcing a half-smile through her nerves, she chuckled.

Is this a joke?

It’s more than she can take. Tears sting at her eyes. Why is this happening to her? Why is she the only one who’s getting treated like this? Why does everyone think everything she does is wrong? Izo congratulated a guy for getting away with murder. Didn’t reveal his secret. Neither did Lux, for that matter. Yoshiko herself had set up a trap to satisfy her own moral gymnastics. Jacoby had literally sawed a girl in half. And somehow, always, it came back to her fault. You’re too selfish or something. Honestly she wasn’t pleased to see Monokuma at all but it was a welcome relief to the argument. Until well. There you go. The Lolita Lovelace is Pathetic And Deserves Nothing Hour, courtesy someone who’s been pretty much gunning for her the whole game. From the guns to the phone mockery until now. Why did Jacoby having problems give him a pass? Why was this so okay? Was murder that easy to sweep under the rug? For Kiko, who’d never work again? Never see her friends? Never make new ones? Why was it Jacoby who was being pitied here for being ‘scared’?

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair at all.

“What… did I do… to deserve this? I … was… just… angry… I was…”

Mean. Mean. Mean. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s reacted poorly at times, maybe, but hardly different from anybody else. Look at her secret! Look at how hard she’s tried! Why is it always her? Why does everyone always kick her down, every time she gets back up? It was hard to get over being voted. Over that feeling of betrayal. Fear. Uncertainty. Being sure you were going to die. And then an innocent dies in your place. Even harder to stomach. Especially when people feel too awkward to look at you. Monokuma picks at her brain, constantly makes fun of her… why only her? It’s not just a delusion. She hasn’t hardly seen anyone else put up with it.

She can do nothing right here. That laugh just keeps running in her head. ‘Maybe Lovelace will kill me’. Mockery. Embarrassment. Stress.

… Maybe they were right. Maybe it was on her. She’d killed Arhan. Killed Nori. If people were saying it so much, maybe it was true.

“I’ve t-t-tried so ha-hard… I t-tried to forgive and f-f-forget even if I w-wwas scared b-bbbut it’s n-never never enough! I-I-I’m still the one who killed Katsutame-san and Prince-s-sama! I c-c-can’t do anything r-r-r-right! Y-you want me to m-m-murder so bad? M-maybe I will, then you’ll all take me seriously, right?! Y-y-you’ll see me as loveable like Lamb-san right?!”

It’s never enough, it’s never enough, it’s never enough.

Horrible. She’s horrible. It’s just a few people but it feels like the world. It feels dark. And honestly she’s tired. She just wants to sleep. Sleep forever. Maybe this is a sign.

Monokuma sails in a graceful arc, smooth parabola curving out and away from the jetty, away from the shore, right into the deep centre of the river.

“This physics engine is amazing wow GLUB GLUB GLUB-”

It lands with a gentle plop!, disappearing beneath the current. The surface of the water begins churning as it struggles to pull its head up. After a moment’s flailing, it stops thrashing and pauses.

“Oh yeah.”

Monokuma holds its arms over its head. A rubber ring pops into existence directly above it, dropping down around it. Monokuma grips it tightly and sighs.

“That was a close one.”

Though it landed just a few metres from the jetty, the rubber ring allows the river to push Monokuma quite easily, and it begins to drift downstream. It looks around, mildly uncomfortable, before finally addressing Yoshiko directly.

“I think I upset her.”

It paddles futilely against the current, picking up speed.

“I think I upset Merieux, too. But you’ve spoken to him, you know.”

Monokuma’s voice becomes faint as it drifts further into the distance.

“I mean. I know it won’t help, assuaging their anger; we have to keep going. But I still want to, want them to stop shouting and try to understand. That blaming each other for SHIT OH GOD WAIT I’LL BE RIGHT BACK JESUS CHRIST-”

It becomes a speck in the distance, silently flailing against the river’s pull.

Twenty to twenty-five minutes later, a voice comes from upstream.

“As I was saying; blaming each other for what’s happening here just makes a bad situation worse. When it’s already done and there’s such a terrible cost for every step. Merieux would have killed Lamb. And why? To what end? To what end did they kill Katsutame?”

Monokuma drifts closer to the jetty again.

“If she was ever their friend, surely they would have wanted her to be free. Even to have considered it. But the whole thing was just a puzzle to solve and then pack away. Maybe if they knew who else had murder on the mind in those last few days, they’d be willing to consider the moral greys.”

It passes close to the end of the jetty and sticks its arms up towards Yoshiko.

The anchor had spent a while experimenting with the fringes of the woods. It seemed as though whenever he ventured too far, the forest would indiscriminately eject him. He started trying to guess where it would toss him next, but then it spat him out by the river and Izo abandoned his game.

If he was to present this story on his return—that is, if there was anything to return to at all—he had to sort out his facts. The anchor slid his hands into his pockets. More fascinating even than their virtual reality was the moral dilemma the class had faced during trial. Despite all their self-righteous blathering, in the end they had essentially voted to secure their own lives. Laughable, really.

As he paced the eastern edge of the woods, Izo lost track of his train of thought. Though he would never admit it, in the past hour he had grown a bit bored of his own company.He knew he couldn’t count on his classmates, but there was someone.

The anchor stopped once he found an appropriately gloomy forest clearing. He pulled on a sharp grin.

“Oh, hi Iijima, how are you?”

It approaches first cautiously, then lets out a loud sigh of exasperation and stomps over to Izo’s side. It smiles, sanguine, and shifts its gaze around the treeline.

“Do you like the place? I think I spent maybe thirty minutes on it, total. Because I am a professional, and plan ahead for things.”

Monokuma holds a hand over its mouth and squeezes its eyes shut. It blinks heavily and turns to face Izo properly.

“You look as tired as I feel. I heard that, uh, that other thing. I’m here if you want to talk about it. Or, like, kill before they find out the truth!..God, I sound like a cartoon character. It’s so farcical; I can’t believe half the stuff that comes out of my mouth.”

It exhales.

“I’m a font of poor advice.”

Monokuma kicks the back of its heel, then smiles again and holds its arms up, uncertain.

“No one deserved it, that’s the entire point! You said it yourself last time, didn’t you!? ‘Kill me to save Arhan! Please oh please!’ You said that! And that entire fiasco is what made me see this game for what it was! Look at me right now you wouldn’t end your life to set one of us free! Say those words to my face!”

She had said they would get out alive, and she meant it. She didn’t know how many, but some of them would have to live and tell this tale. She couldn’t hold back any longer, and waltzed right up to the girl’s face.

“I’ve never harbored any malicious feelings toward you. We were given our cards and we played them. You’re the one who’s angry with me for what I was dealt. You got so angry when I voted for you – It was pathetic! I bet you didn’t vote for me earlier, did you? You voted for what you thought was your safest option! Maybe if you all did what I asked and voted for someone else, Katsutame would be free and I’d be paying the price of my crime. But none of you seemed to understand that!”

“YOU deserved it!”

It’s wrong. Said in the heat of the moment. But she’s so blinded by real fury at the moment she doesn’t care to correct it.

“You’re as bad as Lamb-san, getting away with murder like that! Do you even, like, hear the garbage you’re spewing?! I never once said that! I didn’t want to switch places! I NEVER said that! You were the ones who were ready to burn me at the stake, why on earth would I wanna take the head witch hunter’s place?! Wasn’t that Maiko-san? You can’t listen to what people say but oh boy, ‘poor Yoshiko Kanda! You never tried to understand others but you sure do judge ‘em! You’ve had it SO hard, getting away with murdering Katsutame-san!’.“

She sniffs indignantly and then clenches her teeth, eyes narrowing. This is only going to get worse, but she’s never been one to stop when she’s pushing her luck. She didn’t start this fight. That alone gives her some ego boost. Yoshiko picked this fight; she’s just fighting back.

“I don’t owe you any reply. I don’t think anyone would be happy if I helped them escape. That’s not the kinda people they are. And I don’t want to risk someone else’s life to even try. And it’s ridiculous to think I’d vote for you. Yeah, you may’ve killed Asari-san but that stupid bear wasn’t ever going to count it. So I would’ve been setting you free. And if you wanna talk about dying… I would die before I let you go free. I would never risk a random vote on a chance that YOU’D go. It could be one of my friends. I might care about my own well-being but I’m not like you. I’m not about to sacrifice someone I like for my own ends. Did you even think it through? Asari-san has people who care about her. People who love her. And you took her away from them. You can play whatever mind game justification pity party crap you want, but, you’ll never escape that.”

The emotional bombs have been going off left, right and centre and it’s at this point she’s beginning to calm down. The anger hasn’t quite worn off but it’s melding itself into bitterness, into apathy. Poisonous apathy, but apathy nonetheless as she notices the burning in her throat from all the yelling. She stares right into Yoshiko’s eyes as she comes closer. Close enough to get physical.

She’s ready, if it comes to that.

A shadowy figure hovers at the edge of the jetty, face hidden, shadows building behind it. It reaches out a black robed hand, fingers stretching towa-

“Oh, whoops, wrong genre.”

Monokuma (common or garden) hovers at the edge if the jetty.

“Hey, it’s me, Monokuma.”

It waves a hand absently, sauntering past Yoshiko and Lolita and perching itself daintily on a support post. It draws its knees up to its chest and rests its chin in its hands.

“I heard you fighting, from, like, the moon. Thought, as your principal (?), I should defuse the situation. Don’t want anyone’s feelings getting hurt.”

It yawns deeply and rubs its eyes with the heel of its hand.

“To be honest I’m having trouble working out what has you so upset, Lovelace. You seem to believe you’ve been betrayed in some way, that everyone’s out to get you. I must be honest, I haven’t seen much evidence of that.”

Monokuma sniffs, blinking heavily. It shifts its gaze to Yoshiko, half opening its mouth, then turns back to Lolita.

“Lovelace, in Lamb’s trial, your classmates sought only to discover who was responsible for a very deliberate, very violent murder. They had to convict the person who they believed to have committed what was, as far as they could tell, an inexcusable act. Now, that’s not to say I didn’t understand Lamb’s motivations; perhaps in that particular, awful moment, it was easy to condemn him for them, but I have to say, objectively speaking there are worse reasons to kill. Lamb was scared, not just of the horrors I showed him, not just of the isolation and the distrust of this scenario, but of their own, best case scenario life. Their experiences and their own brain chemistry made just being a struggle, and a literal magic cure for something like that... well, if just for a second you tried to imagine what that’s like, maybe you wouldn’t hate them so much. I find it quite hard to judge them.

“But I digress. It was a trial; they needed to find a killer, and, in that moment, they genuinely believed you killed Sakagami. They didn’t betray you, Lovelace, they just did what they thought was right. Okay, so they were wrong, these things happen. It wasn’t anything personal. The only useful thing you can do is stick out your chin and get over it, move on. But instead you’ve held it close to your chest, let it fester. You’ve choked on its stench and become bitter, turned yourself into some violent martyr. And it’s infecting every word that comes out of your mouth.”

Monokuma really tries to stifle this yawn, coughing unpleasantly in the middle of it. It squints through heavy black bags lining its eyes.

“You’re viewing this whole scenario solely through the prism of your own preconceptions, and no one can make you look up from it. Everyone you see is your enemy, everything you see is some horror movie cliché. When is a bunker a bunker, Lovelace? When is a forest a forest? Kanda didn’t get away with murder: she was trying to beat the scenario, get someone out. What’s your plan? Keep convicting killers until you’re all dead? Because that’s what it looks like to me. You can’t escape this place. It’s a goddamn computer program. You walk along that river you’ll end up right back here, you cross the forest you’ll end up on the other side, looping pointlessly. Kanda may be a spy, but she’s not a monster. She went to a lot of trouble to play the system and could easily have walked out of here herself; trust me, as drafted that case was unsolvable. But that was not her intention; she did what she did for the sake of another, any other. But now Katsutame’s dead too. You might have buried your head in the sand during that trial but your actions since make it clear you don’t regret letting that happen. Tell me then, what was her sin? What made her deserve death more than any of the rest of you? I’ve heard the ‘she should’ve told us’ argument, but I know for certain you still would have pulled the trigger on her. And you wanna know what this all adds up to?”

It grits its teeth.

“Fear. Good old fashioned human fear. You, them, every one of you is terrified of death. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, that’s nothing to condemn. But you’ve done a hell of a job of it so far.”

Monokuma pulls itself back to its feet and dusts itself down. It glances at Yoshiko and grimaces.

“You’ve painted a blood red target on your forehead. You’re very brave. Or stupid.”

It scrunches up its nose and makes an indistinct noise.

Regarding him with only curiosity, she studied him – the nasally voice, comical coloration, protruding features. Overall.. less than threatening. It was difficult to muster fear at the sight of him, especially considering all experiences insofar had placed him as a facilitator and not an aggravator. He was as much a tool as anything, for someone.

“An’ do you prefer verbal, or thoughts? Clearly ye can hear both, but I prefer t’ talk. If you don’t mind.” A constant nagging in the back of her mind reminded her to be polite, given that she was the one entreating of him. “We’re not required t’ go to classes in the normal Hope’s Peak. I assumed the rules carried over.”

Her brow furrowed at the comment about grief counselling, mind balking at the thought before she firmly decided to completely ignore it. “Ah, nah, I had a few questions about the system. I’m not comfortable learnin’ the rules post-hoc, so I’d like t’ start with what I’m at liberty to know.”

Monokuma flashes a brilliant grin and giggles pleasantly. It is not at all creepy and no one is upset.

“You know I’m really glad to see someone thinking about this like a game. I was worried after all that people might be too busy being upset or outraged or. Uh. Rule of threes.” It furrows its brow, then snaps its non-fingers. “Shippy, that’s the one. Too busy being shippy to keep the ball rolling. Those are some nice strats you’ve cooked up there, but unfortunately I’m a step ahead of you. I was gonna keep it under my hat, but you’ve been so polite I may as well spill; in the event of a wrongful conviction, the person punished is not the accused. The people who should be worried are the ones who convicted them.”

Monokuma makes a lazy circular motion in the air.

“A random substitute from the jury. Punishment for poor choices. As you said, executing the accused means all you need to do to survive is keep your nose clean, which sounds terribly boring. And what if someone decided to try politicking their way to a more advantageous position? Deliberately hijacking a trial to get rid of an enemy or rival, without ever getting their hands dirty?” It snorts derisively. “Admirable, but I hate politics. If you want someone gone, do it right.”

It seems lost in thought for a moment, nodding absentmindedly.

“Funny though. One could argue the system’s flawed at quite a basic level. Take what just happened with the Tsukades. Ignore, for a moment, that they believed only one person would be allowed to survive, an assumption which I realize a few of you made, and which goes a long way to explaining such a desperate move; no, start with the knowledge you have now, at the point just before the guilty vote. Izanagi Tsukade has died to save his sister. Not a noble sacrifice, not from your perspective, but one clearly born out of love. Out of pragmatism. There are two ways for this story to end; first, one more person dies, the murderer, and the rest of you remain imprisoned here. Now, this is the option you took, believing it to be just. Could you have known the punishment for guilt? Well, I think maybe you all did, on some level. And right now I don’t think you’d have chosen differently just because you do. But consider option two; convict an innocent. One more person dies, sure. But someone gets to leave. Same amount of dead kids, but someone wins, goes free. No more of my lovely mind games.” It laughs. “No, sitting here waiting for me to get bored will get you nowhere. If you keep killing and killing until there’s only two people left, sure one of them can leave, right after they’ve dealt with their companion. One life saved, at the cost of fifteen. But if we throw out ‘justice’, throw out our hearts and think with our brains, how many then? Mathematically, six of you could’ve made it out of here alive. Two peoples’ lives for one, five times over, one spare at the end. I mean if you’re playing to win that’s the way to go, right?”

Monokuma looks right into Nori’s eyes, face passive.

“Surely that’s better than where we are now, with two people dead and nothing to show for it? By convicting the real killer, all you’ve achieved is necessitating one more death in the long run. Feel good? Five of you could still survive this, but there’s no happy ending for anyone if they’re not prepared to sacrifice a little humanity for it.”

It runs its tongue along its teeth, then shakes its head and smiles.

“So, that’s how you game the system, Katsutame. The random execution exists to make it a scary prospect for the innocent jury, but it’s worth considering, hmm? Is this abhorrent to you, or is it a ray of hope? This system isn't flawed; it rewards cynicism and resignation. Despair.”

There’s a slight pause while Monokuma seems to consider something. Abruptly, it scowls, suddenly seeming annoyed. Tense.

How did one go about contacting a mind reading, stuffed bear?

Despite the fact that the locks on the doors didn’t work, Nori still closed hers quietly before settling cross legged on the covers of her bed. Her things from the previous room were as scattered as they’d been originally, but  lacked the personal touch of her own private chaos – the random element, clearly at the hands (or paws) of someone else, bothered her.

But that was beside the point. The best way to get answers out of that bear was to be polite, though Nori doubted she could quiet the stream of insults running a steady beat through her subconscious. So, instead, to be direct.

Monokuma’s head peaks out from under the bed and it raises its hand smartly. It wriggles, straining to push out from its hiding place, but it very quickly becomes apparent that the bed has it pinned.

“Curse this belly.”

Monokuma places its hands behind its head and looks up at Nori, doing its best to smile. It looks a little queasy.

“Don’t mind setting a few minds at ease, y’know? As principal, I want the best for all my students. Which reminds me; has anyone actually attended class since they got here? Is that my job? I’ll be honest, I lied on my CV, I didn’t go to teacher school. But I have passion! That’s more important than any qualification. Or ability. Or desire to actually do my job.”

It frowns and purses its non-lips together.