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Chapter Text

The Ultimate Lucky Student…?

The towering school building sits at the center of the city…even the skyscrapers are dwarfed. It's like a monument, a monument to the pinnacle of excellence displayed in the actions of the current youth…or at least, that's what it said on the website.

And standing in front of the iron gates…was me.

Oh right, I guess I should introduce myself huh, my name is Makoto Naegi…nice to meet you.

I lived a pretty average life all things considered: I liked whatever was popular, I was excited for the new Nintendo DS…so yeah, I was pretty much as average as you could get.

My sister Komaru(who's a year younger than me by the way) was the one who found my acceptance letter:

“To Mr. Makoto Naegi,

Congratulations!

You have been accepted into the illustrious Hope's Peak Academy!

Every year, we've held a special lottery consisting of every incoming freshman in the country, and you won!

You are now the Ultimate Lucky Student of Class 78.

Your orientation day is at the start of the school year, so please relax as we'll handle all of your accommodations.

Again, congratulations on being accepted into Hope's Peak Academy!

Kindest regards, Headmaster Kirigiri.”

I couldn't believe it, Hope's Peak Academy…accepted me?

Once my parents got home, they read the letter and…well, they were definitely excited. Dad called all his friends from work and the family to tell them the good news, while Mom started making my favorite food: A nice meal of curry.

I spent some time that night on forums and chat rooms about Hope's Peak…trying to learn about my potential new classmates.

They're all kinds of Ultimate Students for all kinds of things: Sports, science, entertainment,culinary…music. Everything. 

I approached the gate and was about to the door when…

“Makotoooo! Wake up! Come on, get up already! You don't wanna be late for your orientation do you?! Wake up!”

“Yawwnn…huh? Oh…it was all a dream.”

I got up, rolled out of bed…and looked at myself in the mirror…

“Hmm…same bedhead as always…”

I exited my room and walked down the stairs in my footie pajamas.

(Perspective change!)

Makoto padded down the stairs, the soft thump of his footie pajamas barely audible over the clink of dishes and the low hum of the TV in the corner. The smell of curry still lingered from last night, mingling with the sharper scent of miso soup and grilled fish.

His mom, Hana, was already dressed for work, her hair pulled back in a neat bun. She sat at the table with perfect posture, sipping tea and reading the newspaper with one hand while gently nudging rice into her mouth with the other.

His dad, Shinji, was mid-bite into a piece of toast slathered with way too much jam. He looked up as Makoto entered, eyes crinkling with a grin.

“There he is! Our little lottery winner,” Shinji said, voice full of mock grandeur. “Did you sleep well, Your Ultimateness?”

Makoto rubbed his eyes. “I had a weird dream. I was at the school already, but everything was…off.”

Hana glanced up, her expression soft. “Nerves. That’s normal. Big day today.”

Shinji leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs like he always did, despite Hana’s quiet sigh every time. “You know, when I was your age, I got into a prestigious school too. The School of Hard Knocks. Tuition was free, but the cafeteria only served disappointment.”

Makoto chuckled, sliding into his seat. “Sounds rough.”

“It built character,” Shinji said proudly, then immediately dropped his toast jam-side down onto his shirt. “And stains.”

Hana passed him a napkin without looking. “You’ll do fine, Makoto. Just be yourself.”

Makoto nodded, chewing slowly. The warmth of the kitchen, the rhythm of his parents’ banter—it grounded him. Even as the looming silhouette of Hope’s Peak waited beyond the horizon, this moment felt safe. Real.

He finished his breakfast, stood up, and adjusted his backpack straps.

“I’m heading out.”

Hana stood too, smoothing his collar. “Call us when you get there.”

Shinji gave a thumbs-up. “And remember: if anyone asks what your talent is, just say ‘being awesome.’ That’s what I would’ve done.”

Makoto smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He stepped out the door, the morning sun catching the edge of his hair. The world felt bigger today. But thanks to his mom's love and dad’s humor, he felt just big enough to meet it.

Makoto stepped out into the morning air, backpack snug against his shoulders. The streets were already stirring—bikes whirring past, shopkeepers rolling up shutters, the smell of fresh bread wafting from the bakery on the corner. He waved to the old man who ran the stationery store, who waved back with a sleepy smile and a half-eaten melonpan.

It was the city he had lived his entire life in.

Hope’s Peak wasn’t far. Just a few blocks, but it felt like crossing into another world.

He passed the park where he used to play tag with Komaru, the vending machine that always ate his coins, the alley where someone had once spray-painted “HOPE IS A CHOICE” in bubble letters. The city was familiar, but today it felt… charged. Like the air was holding its breath.

There's the usual sights: Buildings display images promoting the new Nintendo DS Lite, posters for the upcoming concert for the boy band Tornado...a advertisement inviting people to "Experience the natural majesty of Jabberwock Island! Schedule your dream vacation today!"

Makoto paused at a crosswalk, watching the light blink from red to green. He adjusted his collar, checked his phone again—no new messages. Just the one from Hope’s Peak, still sitting unread in his inbox. He didn’t open it. He didn’t need to.

He knew where he was going.

The school gates rose ahead, just like in his dream. Towering, ornate, a little too dramatic for his taste. But they were real. And behind them, a future he couldn’t quite picture yet.

He took a breath, stepped forward—

And the world blurred.

He stood on the path just outside the gates, knees pulled in, watching the morning light stretch across the pavement. The school loomed ahead, impossibly tall, impossibly real. And him? Just a kid with a lottery ticket.

Ultimate Lucky Student.It sounded fake. Like a title someone made up to fill a gap in the roster.

Makoto stared at his shoes, scuffed from years of walking the same city blocks. Was luck really a talent? Or just a placeholder for people who didn’t have one?

He thought back to all the moments that could’ve gone wrong—when he tripped crossing the street and the car swerved just in time, when he forgot his umbrella and somehow missed the downpour, when he got into Hope’s Peak by a draw that felt more like a prank than a miracle.

Every time, it was like the universe had flipped a coin and he’d landed heads. But what if one day it didn’t?

He was still mid-thought when—

Shove. He was pushed into the grass.

“Oops! Sorry, I totally didn’t see you there.”A voice like bubblegum and sarcasm. “(You little weirdo.)”

Makoto blinked, half-dazed, as a strawberry blonde in flashy clothes strutted past him, heels clicking like punctuation. Her jacket was half-off her shoulder, her skirt too short for school regulations, and her confidence practically radiated.

Behind her marched another girl—dark bob cut, crisp uniform, eyes forward like she was heading into battle. No words. Just presence. She was carrying a stack of luggage with surprisingly little effort.

Makoto watched them go, one like she was on a catwalk, the other like she was guarding it.

He brushed grass off his pants and stood up slowly.

Okay, he thought. So maybe I’m not a lion. But I’m here. And I’m not leaving.

So, he gets back on the path and walks up to the towering main building.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Ultimate Orientation!

Makoto stepped through the front doors of Hope’s Peak Academy, and for a moment, everything was quiet.

The lobby was spotless. Gleaming tile floors, high ceilings, and soft morning light pouring in through tall windows that looked like they belonged in a museum. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and something sterile—like a hospital trying to be fancy.

His eyes drifted downward.

Right in the center of the floor, embedded in polished stone, was the school’s crest: a stylized shield with a fountain pen crossed over a jagged red swirl. The pen was sleek and elegant, but the other shape… it was harder to place. It looked like a spiral, almost mechanical, like something you’d see on a warning label or a sci-fi prop.

Makoto tilted his head.  

What is that supposed to be?

He stepped around it carefully, not wanting to scuff the design. Whatever it meant, it was clearly important.

The lobby wasn’t empty.

A few other students milled about—some standing in small clusters, chatting quietly, others walking with purpose like they already knew where to go. Makoto didn’t recognize any of them. Not that he expected to. They all looked older somehow. Taller. Sharper. Like they belonged here.

To his left, a hallway stretched out, lined with tall lockers and glass trophy cases. The lockers were pristine, each one numbered in neat silver print. The trophy cases were packed—rows of medals, plaques, and framed photos of past students holding up awards. Sports, science fairs, culinary competitions, even a few that just said “Innovation” or “Excellence in Spirit.”

Makoto slowed his pace, eyes drifting over the displays. One photo showed a girl holding a violin, smiling like she’d just saved the world. Another showed a boy in a lab coat with a trophy almost as tall as he was.

He swallowed.

What am I doing here?

A pair of students passed behind him, laughing about something he didn’t catch. He stepped aside instinctively, pressing closer to the wall.

Okay. Just find the gym. Don’t get in anyone’s way.

He adjusted his grip on the orientation packet and kept walking.

He picked a direction and started walking faster, hoping the building would make sense eventually. It didn’t.

That’s when he heard the voice.

“Excuse me! You there!”

Makoto turned, startled.

A boy in a crisp white uniform marched toward him, posture ramrod straight, eyes blazing with intensity. His armband read Public Morals Committee, and his expression was the kind usually reserved for catching someone smoking behind the gym.

“You!” the boy barked. “Why are you not in the auditorium? Orientation began three minutes ago!”

Makoto blinked. “I—I got turned around. I wasn’t trying to skip—”

“Not trying to skip?” the boy repeated, aghast. “Then what do you call aimlessly wandering the halls while your fellow students are dutifully assembled?”

“I was just—”

“Just what?” He stepped closer. “Just disregarding the schedule? Just undermining the sanctity of our academic institution?”

Makoto shrank a little. “I didn’t mean to…”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. Then, with a dramatic pivot, he pointed down the hall.

“This way. I will escort you personally. We will arrive late, but we will arrive correctly.”

Makoto nodded quickly, falling into step beside him.

As they walked, the boy muttered under his breath. “Unacceptable. First day and already a breach of protocol. I’ll have to file a report…”

Makoto glanced sideways. He still didn’t know the guy’s name. But he was starting to suspect he’d never forget him.

The double doors creaked open, and Makoto followed the other boy inside, trying to shrink into his own shoulders.

The auditorium was already packed.

Rows upon rows of students filled the folding chairs, some sitting stiffly, others sprawled like they owned the place. The air buzzed with conversation—snippets of introductions, laughter, arguments about dorm assignments, and one very loud debate about whether curry counted as a soup.

Makoto scanned the room. No empty seats near the back. No easy escape routes.

The boy in white marched ahead, parting the crowd like a moral compass with legs. He turned sharply and gestured to a seat near the middle.

“Here. Sit. And reflect on your tardiness.”

Makoto nodded quickly and slid into the chair, clutching his orientation packet like it might shield him from further judgment.

The other boy sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes forward, radiating discipline.

Makoto exhaled slowly.

Okay. Not late. Not technically. Just… conspicuous.

He glanced around.

Without uniforms, everyone’s personality was on full display. It was like the school had invited a cast of characters from twelve different genres and told them to dress for opening night.

And then there was her.

The girl with the bubblegum.

Blonde hair done up in exaggerated twintails, each curl bouncing with every shift of her posture. Baby blue eyes scanned the room like she was rating it—judging it. Her outfit was loud: cropped jacket, short skirt, mismatched accessories that somehow looked intentional. She blew a bubble the size of her face, popped it with a smirk, and didn’t flinch.

Makoto recognized her from earlier—the one who’d shoved past him outside.

Now, seated front and center, she looked like she was waiting for the spotlight.

And that grin.

Wide. Sharp. A little too practiced. Like she was rehearsing something terrible behind her teeth.

Behind her stood another girl, silent and still. Dark bob cut, cargo pants, arms folded. She didn’t sit. She didn’t speak. She just watched.

Makoto looked away.

Okay, he thought. So that’s a thing.

The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the auditorium.

A single spotlight snapped on, illuminating the podium at center stage.

Then came the sound—waddle-waddle-waddle-thump—as a small, two-toned bear shuffled into view.

Half white, half black. One eye a cheerful dot, the other a jagged red swirl. His grin was stitched into his face like a secret he refused to share.

He climbed onto a stool behind the podium, adjusted the mic with stubby paws, and let the silence stretch.

Then:

“Well, well, well. Look at all these hopeful little faces. Confused. Nervous. Unprepared. I love it.”

Makoto blinked.

The bear tapped the mic. “Hello! Howdy! Welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy, where dreams come true and expectations go to die!”

“I see you all staring. Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m talking. And no—I am not a teddy bear.”He leaned forward. “I am a symbol. A mascot. A concept. A bear of mystery.”

He spun dramatically. “And before you ask—yes, I do bear-related things. I hibernate emotionally. I claw through bureaucracy. I eat salmon metaphors for breakfast.”

Monokuma clapped his paws. “Now then! Orientation! A time-honored tradition where we pretend structure exists and you pretend to care!”

Makoto glanced around. No one seemed to know what was happening. The boy beside him was taking notes like this was a legal deposition.

Monokuma continued, voice syrupy with sarcasm. “You’ll be assigned dorms. You’ll be given schedules. You’ll be expected to grow. Like mold. Or trauma.”

He paused, then added sweetly, “And remember: if you’re confused, that means it’s working.”

Just then, a door near the stage opened.

A tall man in a gray suit stepped out, adjusting his tie with the weariness of someone who’d already dealt with this bear three times today.

“Monokuma,” he said, voice firm. “Off the stage.”

Monokuma froze. “Oh! Headmaster Kirigiri! I was just warming them up!”

Jin Kirigiri raised an eyebrow. “You were confusing them.”

Monokuma hopped off the stool with exaggerated reluctance. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But don’t come crying to me when the morale dips!”

He waddled offstage, muttering something about “creative suppression” and “bear rights.”

The spotlight shifted.

Headmaster Kirigiri stepped up to the podium, cleared his throat, and began.

“Good morning,” he said, voice steady. “I apologize for the delay. Our mascot has a tendency to… improvise.”

“Welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. You are here because you are exceptional. Each of you has demonstrated a talent, a skill, or a quality that sets you apart. This school exists to nurture that potential—and to challenge it.”

“You will be held to high standards. Not just academically, but socially, ethically, and personally. You represent the future of your fields. You represent this institution.”

“Now, a few logistical notes. The cafeteria is open from 6:30 AM to 8:00 PM. Breakfast is served until 9:00. Lunch begins at 12:00. Dinner ends promptly at 7:45. If you have dietary restrictions, please submit them to the nurse’s office by the end of the week.”

“Curfew is 10:00 PM. You are expected to be in your dorms after this time. Exceptions will be granted only for approved club activities or emergencies.”

Jin’s gaze swept the room. “Dorm assignments are random. You will receive your keys after this assembly. If you have concerns, address them respectfully with the housing coordinator.”

He folded his hands. “You are not just students. You are representatives of excellence. Treat each other with respect. Treat this institution with care. And treat yourselves with the seriousness your talents deserve.”

Makoto felt the words land like a weight. Not heavy. Just real.

Jin nodded once. “Welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. Make the most of it.”

He stepped back from the podium.

Monokuma clapped politely. “Wow! So formal! So reasonable! I’m bored already!”

Jin didn’t respond. He simply walked offstage.

Before the students could fully process the shift, the mic was seized again—this time by a woman in a red blazer and platform heels that clicked like punctuation.

She practically bounced onto the stage, ponytail swishing, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Helloooooo, my rotten little oranges!”

Makoto flinched. Several students exchanged glances. One boy dropped his pen.

Chisa Yukizome beamed. “I’m your upperclassmen coordinator, your emotional janitor, your chaos wrangler—Miss Yukizome! And I am so excited to welcome you to the most beautiful, most dramatic, most absolutely formative days of your lives!”

She spun once, dramatically. “Youth! It’s messy! It’s loud! It’s sticky! And you, my darling citrus rejects, are going to squeeze every last drop out of it!”

Makoto scribbled a note: Avoid being sticky.

Chisa clapped her hands. “Now! Dorms! Each of you will receive a key to your very own room in the Residential Building. One student per room. No roommates. No bunk beds. No excuses!”

She winked. “Floors are assigned by class year. If you end up on the wrong floor, don’t panic—just clean up after yourself and pretend you’re doing research.”

A few students laughed. Junko blew a bubble. Monokuma sipped his juice box.

“And remember,” Chisa added, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “these are the days you’ll look back on and say, ‘Wow. I really was a rotten little orange.’”

She straightened, saluted the crowd, and strutted offstage like she’d just won a talent show.

Makoto sat in stunned silence.

Okay, he thought. So that’s a thing too.

Chapter Text

The Ultimate Classmate Meeting Of Class 78!

After the orientation speeches, the student was divided into groups that would be their classes for the school duration.

Makoto didn't have much time to take it all in before he has sticker labeled:

'Makoto Naegi, Class 78.'

He felt a bit like...luggage.

He stood outside of the classroom labeled well...Class-78.

The sounds of classroom chatter came through the door, you know...arguments about who gets what seat and probably already deciding their cliques and such...I think.

Makoto stepped into the classroom and was met with a sight that in another time and space...would probably have some sense of foreboding.

But here? It's just the usual anxiety over meeting new classmates.

So, let's get into it!

(Cue: Beautiful Days!)

🧭 Kiyotaka Ishimaru

“You’re late!”

“Tardiness is unacceptable in our modern society! However, seeing as it is the first day… I shall overlook this incident. I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru. I believe in bold simplicity and moral fortitude.”

He’s like a human alarm clock. I should probably buy a backup one just in case.

“Makoto Naegi. I’ll do my best.”

🎤 Sayaka Maizono

“Makoto? Is that you?”“I’m Sayaka Maizono. It’s so nice to see a familiar face.”

She remembers me. Sayaka Maizono—actual pop idol—remembers me. This is either fate or a very elaborate prank.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Still Makoto Naegi.”

🧠 Byakuya Togami

“Introductions are a formality. Don’t expect me to care.”“I am Byakuya Togami. That should be sufficient.”

Okay. Definitely not here to make friends. I’ll just… nod and move on.

“Makoto Naegi. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

🎸 Leon Kuwata

“Yo! You play baseball?”“Cool. Me neither. I quit. Gonna be a rockstar now. I’m Leon Kuwata.”

He’s got the energy of someone who’s already famous in his own head. Honestly? Kind of refreshing. Though he doesn't seem very hardworking.

“Makoto Naegi. Nice to meet you, future legend.”

📖 Toko Fukawa

“W-Why are you talking to me? You’re just going to laugh at me like everyone else!”“I’m Toko Fukawa. Not that it matters. You probably already hate me.”

That escalated fast. I just said hi.

“No, I don’t—uh, I’m Makoto Naegi. It’s nice to meet you.”

💻 Chihiro Fujisaki

“Hi there. I’m Chihiro Fujisaki. It’s nice to meet you."

She seem sweet. I hope she's not too overwhelmed by all this.

“Makoto Naegi. It’s nice to meet you too.”

🏍️ Mondo Owada

“You look like a twig. You eat breakfast?”“I’m Mondo Owada. Nice to fuckin meet ya.”

He hits like a truck and talks like one too. But it makes sense for the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader...

“Makoto Naegi. I’ll try to keep up.”

🎰 Celeste Ludenberg

“I am Celeste Ludenberg. I expect civility, punctuality, and a certain level of decorum.”

Condescending, but in a fancy way. I feel like I should’ve worn nicer shoes. But...is she even Japanese?

“Makoto Naegi. I’ll try to meet expectations.”

🧙‍♂️ Yasuhiro Hagakure

“I predict you’ll trip again before lunch.”“I’m Yasuhiro Hagakure. Ultimate Clairvoyant. Don’t ask me about taxes.”

He’s either joking or terrifyingly accurate. Maybe both. Still, he doesn't look very bright.

“Makoto Naegi. I’ll watch my step.”

🧁 Aoi Asahina

“Hey! You’re new too, right?”“I’m Aoi Asahina. I like swimming and donuts. Not necessarily in that order.”

She’s got main character energy. I feel like she could carry this whole room. But...how does her hair do that?

“Makoto Naegi. Nice to meet you!”

🧘‍♀️ Sakura Ogami

“Greetings. I am Sakura Ogami. If you need help adjusting, I am available.”

Her voice is gentle. Her presence is massive. I feel oddly safe. Stil...she could totally break me in half...better not piss her off.

“Makoto Naegi. I appreciate that.”

🎭 Junko Enoshima

“You’re giving me nervous protagonist vibes.”

“I’m Junko Enoshima. Ultimate Fashionista. Don’t worry, I’m not judging. Yet.”

She’s already taken three selfies and I think I’m in all of them. Something about her...unnerves me.

“Makoto Naegi. I’ll try to be photogenic.”

🥷 Mukuro Ikusaba

“…I’m Mukuro Ikusaba.”

She said that like she wasn’t supposed to. Did she just materialize? She looks scary but...she's a high schooler like me.

“Makoto Naegi. Uh… hi.”

He had no idea what he's in for...

And before you ask...I'm gonna assume you all know what these people look like...I'm not gonna subject you all to the despair of my describing skills.

And if you don't know what they look like...make sure you have Safe Search on.

Chapter Text

📘 Welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy!

A Message from the Hope’s Peak Orientation Committee

Congratulations, Ultimate Students! You’ve been selected to join the most prestigious academic institution in the world. Whether you’re a pop sensation, a clairvoyant, or a fanfic virtuoso, Hope’s Peak Academy is proud to welcome you into our halls of excellence.

Please review the following materials carefully. They contain everything you need to begin your journey of hope, talent, and slightly surreal educational rigor.

🏫 School Amenities

Hope’s Peak Academy offers a variety of facilities to support your Ultimate potential. All amenities are accessible to students during designated hours (unless otherwise stated by faculty, Monokuma, or mysterious intercom announcements).

Swimming Pool

Olympic-sized, temperature-controlled, and equipped with underwater speakers. Please refrain from synchronized despair routines.

Game Room

Featuring arcade cabinets, board games, and a suspiciously sentient claw machine. Ibuki has already declared it her second home.

Computer Lab

High-speed terminals, secure access, and a firewall strong enough to keep out most fanfic viruses. Chihiro has admin privileges. You do not.

Library

Thousands of volumes, including rare tomes, banned biographies, and at least one book that screams when opened. Toko is already cataloging the fiction section.

Cafeteria

Open daily with rotating menus. Donuts are available. Teruteru is not on staff. Please do not attempt to deep-fry your E-Handbook.

Courtyard

A tranquil space for reflection, conversation, and dramatic monologues. Rainstorms may trigger ensemble bonding events.

👔 The Hope’s Peak Academy Uniform

All students are issued a standard Hope’s Peak Academy uniform upon arrival. While individuality is celebrated, proper attire is expected during formal school events and when special visitors are present.

Uniform Details:

Brown blazer with a chest pocket bearing the Hope’s Peak crest

White button-up undershirt

Bright red tie (Ultimate-approved for boldness and visibility)

Brown pants and black dress shoes

Girls’ Uniform Variation:

Identical to the standard uniform, with a brown skirt in place of pants

(Wearing your uniform is not mandatory during regular school hours. However, students are expected to dress appropriately when representing Hope’s Peak Academy. Should your uniform be damaged, stained, or mysteriously shredded during a talent demonstration, please see Miss Yukizone in the Fabrication Wing for repairs.)

📱 The E-Handbook and You!

Your E-Handbook is your lifeline at Hope’s Peak Academy. It contains your student profile, schedule, dorm access, and a mysterious blinking icon that no one can explain.

Features Include:

ID Verification

Scan to enter your dorm, classroom, and emotionally charged flashbacks.

Schedule Tracker

Automatically updates with class times, talent showcases, and Monokuma interruptions.

Messaging System

Send notes to classmates. Do not use to confess your feelings. Or do. We’re not your therapist.

Emergency Alert

Press in case of fire, earthquake, or existential dread.

Please do not attempt to modify your E-Handbook. Doing so may result in unexpected character development.

🛏️ Dormitory Life

Each student is assigned a private dorm room equipped with:

A bed (standard size, dreams not included)

A desk and chair for studying, journaling, or existential reflection

A personal bathroom with shower, sink, and mirror for dramatic monologues

A closet with enough space for uniform storage and emotional baggage

Room Customization:

Students may decorate their dorms to reflect their Ultimate identity. Please refrain from installing trapdoors, fog machines, or despair shrines without approval from Facilities.

Noise Policy:

Quiet hours begin at 10 PM. Exceptions include talent rehearsals, emotional breakdowns, and Ibuki’s impromptu jam sessions.

🍽️ Dining Etiquette

The cafeteria is open daily from 7:00 AM to 8:00 PM. Meals are prepared by the Hope’s Peak Culinary AI, which has been trained on 10,000 recipes and one very confusing fanfic.

Meal Options Include:

Traditional Japanese breakfast

Western-style lunch trays

Donuts (available at all hours)

Mystery Soup (do not ask)

Special Notes:

Students with dietary restrictions should notify the kitchen staff or Teruteru (if he’s lurking).

Food fights are discouraged unless part of a sanctioned inter-class bonding exercise.

🧭 Orientation Schedule Highlights

Your first week at Hope’s Peak includes:

Welcome Ceremony

Hosted by Headmaster Kirigiri. Please do not ask personal questions.

Talent Introduction Circl

eEach student will present a brief summary of their Ultimate skill. Props allowed.

Campus Tour

Led by Koichi Kizakura. May include detours to vending machines.

E-Handbook Setup

Please do not attempt to jailbreak your device. Nagito already tried.

❓ Frequently Asked Questions

Compiled by the Hope’s Peak Academy Student Affairs Office (and lightly edited by Koichi Kizakura)

🧳 Can I request a visit from family or friends?

Yes! Visitation requests may be submitted via your E-Handbook under the “External Contact” tab. All requests are reviewed by Headmaster Kirigiri and processed within 3–5 business days (or longer if Monokuma intervenes).

Note:

Visitors must pass a background check and despair screening.

Emotional reunions are permitted but must be kept under 15 minutes.

Kyoko Kirigiri has not submitted a request. Please do not ask.

🛏️ Can I switch dorm rooms?

Room swaps are permitted with mutual consent and approval from the Dormitory Coordinator.Please refrain from bribing classmates with donuts, fanfiction, or rare trading cards.

Exceptions:

You may not room next to Junko Enoshima unless you enjoy spontaneous photoshoots.

You may not room next to Mondo Owada unless you enjoy spontaneous yelling.

🧼 Who does laundry?

Laundry facilities are located on the first floor of the dormitory wing. Students are responsible for their own laundry.Celeste has a private laundering arrangement. Do not ask how.

🧠 What if I need emotional support?

Hope’s Peak Academy offers a variety of support resources, including:

The Counseling Room (open Tuesdays and Thursdays)

The Courtyard Bench of Quiet Reflection™

Koichi Kizakura (not licensed, but available)

Sakura Ogami (licensed in empathy and punching despair in the face)

📦 Can I receive packages?

Yes. Deliveries are routed through the school’s secure mailroom.All packages are scanned for despair, explosives, and unauthorized fan merchandise.

Note:

Sayaka Maizono receives a lot of fan mail.

Hifumi Yamada receives a lot of figurines.

Makoto Naegi receives… socks. Sometimes.

🧹 Who cleans the dorms?

Dorms are cleaned weekly by the Hope’s Peak Maintenance Team.If you see a robot with a feather duster and a monocle, do not engage. It is shy.

🐻 A Special Message from Your Head of School Spirit: Monokuma!

This page was not approved by the Orientation Committee. It appeared overnight in every student’s E-Handbook. Attempts to delete it have failed.

🎰 Introducing the Monomono-Machine™

Located in the Hope’s Peak Academy School Store!

Are you tired of predictable rewards? Bored of sensible purchases? Longing for the thrill of randomized despair? Then step right up to the Monomono-Machine™—your one-stop shop for trinkets, treasures, and emotionally confusing memorabilia!

How It Works:

Insert a Monocoin (or two, or ten!)

Spin the wheel of fate

Receive a random item that may or may not be emotionally relevant to your backstory!

Possible Prizes Include:

A donut with a bite already taken out

A vintage detective’s notebook (Kyoko not included)

A rubber duck wearing sunglasses

A signed photo of Junko Enoshima (she signed it “Despair”)

A mysterious key to a door that doesn’t exist

A friendship bracelet that smells like betrayal

A sock. Just one.

Bonus Feature:Every 100 spins unlocks a secret message from Monokuma! (Warning: may cause existential dread.)

🛍️ School Store Hours

Open daily from 8:00 AM to 6:00 PMClosed during inter-class incidents, fog invasions, and philosophical debates about hope.

Remember, students:The Monomono-Machine™ is not responsible for emotional damage, sudden revelations, or plot twists.Spin responsibly. Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

—Monokuma

Chapter Text

☕ Vignette: Cafe Noir

Kyoko Kirigiri sits by the window, her coat draped neatly over the back of the chair. The coffee in front of her is dark, unsweetened, still steaming. She doesn’t drink it yet. She watches the steam curl upward like it’s trying to escape something.

Behind the counter, the barista wipes down porcelain cups with a practiced rhythm. He’s older—glasses, mustache, apron with a stitched patch that reads “Noir Means Quiet.” He doesn’t speak unless spoken to. He believes coffee is best when it’s still hot. And during the cold months, he serves hot chocolate without asking. It’s a kindness disguised as routine.

The café is nearly empty. A jazz record plays softly, the kind that sounds like it’s remembering something. Outside, the wind nudges leaves across the pavement. Inside, Kyoko finally takes a sip.

It’s bitter. Perfect.

The barista glances over. Doesn’t smile. Just nods once, like he’s acknowledging a truth they both understand.

Kyoko doesn’t stay long. She leaves a tip, folds her coat over her arm, and steps back into the chill.

The coffee stays hot. The silence stays warm.

---

🛍️ Vignette: Window Shopping Without Carousing

The storefronts of Summit Vale glowed gently in the late afternoon light. Glass displays shimmered with seasonal scarves, novelty mugs, and one mannequin wearing a trench coat made entirely of zippers. No one knew which store sold it. No one asked.

Makoto, Kyoko, Aoi, and Byakuya walked in loose formation, not quite a group, not quite separate. It was the kind of outing that happened when no one had homework and the vending machines were restocking.

Aoi paused in front of a sports shop. “Those shoes look fast,” she said.

Makoto nodded. “They probably are.”

Kyoko studied a bookstore window. A mystery novel sat propped open, its title obscured by a sticker that read “Now With Less Existential Dread!”

Byakuya scoffed. “Marketing is for the weak.”

They kept walking.

At a boutique, Aoi tried on sunglasses—through the glass, without entering. “Do I look mysterious?”

Makoto smiled. “You look like you’re trying not to sneeze.”

Kyoko didn’t comment. She was watching a display of ceramic cats. One had a monocle. One had a tiny violin. One looked like it knew something.

Byakuya stopped at a tailor’s window. A suit on display had a tag that read “For the Discerning Protagonist.” He stared at it for a long time.

No one bought anything. No one caused a scene. They just walked, browsed, and let the quiet settle between them like fresh snow.

---

💸 Vignette: Junko’s Department Store Rampage 

The escalators at Summit Vale’s most expensive department store glided upward like velvet judgment. Junko Enoshima stood at the front, sunglasses perched on her nose, faux-fur jacket flaring behind her like a cape. Mukuro Ikusaba followed two steps behind, hands in her pockets, expression unreadable.

“Ugh,” Junko groaned, eyeing a mannequin in a sequined jumpsuit. “Even this plastic freak has more presence than you.”

Mukuro didn’t respond. She was used to it.

They reached the fifth floor—Designer Collections and Emotional Damage. Junko twirled toward a display of rhinestone-studded trench coats. “Try this on,” she said, tossing one at Mukuro without looking. “Maybe it’ll distract from your whole… face.”

Mukuro caught it. “It’s not my style.”

Junko gasped. “You have a style? Since when?”

She waved a platinum card like a wand. “Daddy’s a general. Mommy’s an icon. I’m a mood. You’re… background noise.”

The spree escalated.

- One faux-leather jumpsuit with built-in mood lighting  

- Two pairs of boots that made Mukuro walk like a runway model against her will  

- A handbag shaped like a grenade (Junko’s favorite)  

- A scarf that whispered affirmations Mukuro didn’t believe

At checkout, Junko posed for a selfie with the receipt. Mukuro stood beside her, holding the grenade purse like it might explode.

“You’re lucky I let you tag along,” Junko said, flipping her hair. “You’re like… my emotional support war criminal.”

Mukuro blinked. “Thanks?”

Junko grinned. “Don’t get used to it.”

They left the store in a cloud of perfume and passive aggression. Mukuro didn’t say a word. But she kept the scarf.

---

🎮 Vignette: Chiaki in the Zone

The arcade lights flickered like distant stars. The air smelled faintly of popcorn, neon, and ambition. Students wandered between cabinets, trading tokens and half-hearted trash talk. But at the far end of the room, one machine had gone silent—except for the sound of buttons being obliterated.

Chiaki Nanami stood in front of Galactic Blitz: Turbo Edition. Left hand on the joystick. Right hand on the buttons. She didn’t blink. She didn’t speak. She didn’t breathe in a way that could be measured.

The screen flashed:  

HIGH SCORE: CHIAKI  

SECOND PLACE: CHIAKI  

THIRD PLACE: CHIAKI

Hajime leaned against a nearby cabinet. “Has she moved in?”

Nagito whispered, reverent. “She’s communing with the machine.”

Ibuki tried to distract her with a kazoo solo. Chiaki didn’t flinch.

Aoi offered her a donut. Chiaki accepted it without looking, took a bite, and kept playing. The donut never touched her other hand.

The machine beeped. A new level unlocked. One no one had ever seen before. The cabinet shuddered slightly, like it was afraid.

Chiaki’s eyes narrowed. “Finally.”

No one knew what she meant.

---

We hope you've enjoyed this brief collection of vignettes.

Chapter Text

---

🩸 Scene: The Spark (Makoto’s Softer Delivery)

Makoto Naegi walked the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy with his headphones in, hoodie zipped halfway, gaze soft and unfocused. It was that quiet stretch between classes when the halls felt like they were holding their breath. He wasn’t in a rush. He rarely was.

Near the vending alcove by the east stairwell, he passed Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba. Junko was mid-monologue, leaning against the wall like it owed her something, one heel pressed to the tile, voice dripping with performative nihilism.

“I’m literally just a walking brand,” she said. “Mukuro’s the ugly one, but I’m the fake one. It’s hilarious. We’re like a failed metaphor in matching boots.”

Mukuro stood beside her, silent as always. Her posture was neutral, but her eyes flicked downward at the insult. She didn’t flinch. She never did.

Makoto slowed. Pulled one earbud out. Hesitated.

“Umm… Junko…” he said, voice low but sincere. “You probably shouldn’t talk about Mukuro that way… it’s not very nice.”

Then he kept walking.

Junko didn’t respond. She didn’t move. Her expression didn’t change. But something inside her snapped like a shutter catching the wrong moment.

She watched him walk away—headphones back in, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. He didn’t look back.

That was the moment.

Not when he spoke.  

Not when he walked past.  

But when he didn’t look back.

---

Transition: Junko’s Dorm Room

Later that evening, in the soundproof sanctuary of her dorm room, Junko paced like a caged animal in designer heels. Her room was curated chaos—magazine clippings, mannequin heads, mood boards, and a full-length mirror framed in neon. The air smelled like perfume and static.

She was livid.

"That little fucking dork! Who the HELL DOES HE THINK HE IS?!"

With one sentence, Makoto Naegi had questioned her entire methodology. Her aesthetic. Her control. He’d pierced the veil—not with confrontation, but with casual decency. That was worse.

She already thought he was a low-class dork. Reserve Course trash with a haircut that screamed “I don’t know who I am yet.” But now?

Now he was dangerous.

Junko stopped in front of the mirror. Her reflection stared back, blank-faced and perfect. She tilted her head.

“If I’m prettier, sexier, and smarter than him,” she whispered, “I can do whatever I want to him… even kill him if I wanted to.”

She wouldn’t. Not in this setting. Not in this school.

But she’d make him suffer. Slowly. Stylishly. Emotionally.

Because Makoto Naegi had done the unforgivable:  

He saw her.  

And he didn’t flinch.

"He thinks he's lucky...well, his luck juuuust ran out."

---

Chapter Text

---

🗳️ Scene: Campaign Kickoff — Hope vs. Hype

The auditorium buzzed with anticipation. Students from every class filled the seats, whispering, speculating, and placing bets. The Class Representative Election had officially begun.

On stage, Junko Enoshima strutted to the podium in heels that clicked like punctuation. Her campaign banner unfurled behind her: “Vote Junko — Make School Interesting Again.”

She tapped the mic. “Is this thing on? Good. Let me begin.”

🎭 Persona Parade

She launched into her speech, switching personas like outfits:

- Queen: “We are the obvious choice. Regal, radiant, and ruthlessly efficient. You deserve nothing less than Our rule.”

- Professor: “Statistically speaking, charisma outperforms competence in 87% of school elections. I am both.”

- Monokuma: She giggled, voice pitch-shifting. “Vote for me or I’ll turn your locker into a despair dungeon! Just kidding~! Or am I? Upupupuuu!"

From the back of the room, the real Monokuma leaned over to Hifumi and whispered, “She nailed it. I feel seen.”

Junko ended with a wink and a pose. “Vote Junko. Or don’t. I'll still be fabulous.”

Thunderous applause. Confused laughter. A few students clapped out of fear.

---

🐱 Makoto’s Turn

Makoto Naegi stepped up next, clutching a crumpled note card. His hoodie was slightly askew. He adjusted the mic, which squeaked in protest.

“Umm… hi,” he began. “I’m Makoto Naegi. I guess I’m running for Class Rep now…”

He glanced at his card. Then at the crowd. Then back at his card.

“I may not be as… talented or as popular as Junko is… I may not even be fit for the position honestly…”

He paused. Swallowed.

“…the most unique thing about me… well, I guess you could say I’m more gung ho than most people?”

Silence.

Then a soft laugh from Chiaki. A nod from Sakura. A quiet “Hmm” from Kyoko.

Makoto blinked. “Anyway… I’ll try my best.”

He stepped back. No fanfare. No personas. Just sincerity.

---

🎬 Ensemble Reaction

- Kyoko: “He’s not flashy. But he’s honest.”  

- Aoi: “I’m voting for the donut guy.”  

- Nagito: “His hope is wonderful. I love it.”  

- Junko: Watching from the wings, expression unreadable. “He’s boring. But he’s dangerous.”

---

🖼️ Scene: Poster Wars — Hope, Hype, and Atua

The school courtyard was a battlefield of tape, staples, and glossy ambition.

Makoto Naegi stood beside a stack of slightly crumpled posters. His original designs—hand-drawn, uneven, and featuring slogans like “I’ll try my best!”—had been gently vetoed by Kyoko. “You need help,” she’d said. “Real help.”

Enter Angie Yonaga.

Makoto had narrowly escaped a blood donation ritual to Atua, but in exchange, Angie had designed a series of posters that were… vibrant. Each one featured Makoto smiling awkwardly, surrounded by pastel clouds and tiny doves. The slogan read: “Makoto Naegi — Gung Ho for You!”

Makoto stared at one. “Is that… glitter glue?”

Angie beamed. “Atua insisted.”

---

🩱 Meanwhile: Junko’s Campaign

Across the courtyard, Junko’s posters were going up like wildfire. Glossy, high-resolution, and unmistakably flirtatious, each one featured her in a red bikini, lounging on a beach chair with a clipboard labeled “Vote or Regret.”

The tagline?

> “You want it. You need it. Crave it. Vote for me, and you can touch like never before.”

Hifumi fainted, but not before taking a copy for "reference".Taka tried to confiscate one but got distracted by the font choice. Ryota Mitarai, attempting to walk outside for longer than five minutes, had one stuck to his face by a gust of wind. He panicked.

"AH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

ran into a tree(THUNK!), and finally got some sleep.

"Ughhh..."

---

🎬 Ensemble Reactions

- Chiaki: “Makoto’s posters are… soft. I like them.”  

- Aoi: “Junko’s are a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”  

- Nagito: “Both campaigns are beautiful in their own way. But one is clearly more despair-inducing.”  

- Kyoko: Quietly replaces a Junko poster with Makoto’s. Doesn’t say anything.  

- Junko: Watching from above, sunglasses on. “Let the aesthetic war begin.”

---

🌙 Scene: Midnight Mudslinging — The Poster Sabotage

The school halls were silent, lit only by the flicker of emergency lights and the soft hum of vending machines. Somewhere near the second-floor stairwell, Junko Enoshima leaned against a locker in a faux-fur coat, sipping a soda labeled “Despair Lite.”

Mukuro Ikusaba crouched beside her, marker in hand.

“You know what to do,” Junko whispered, voice dipped in her Serious persona. “Make it artful. Make it petty.”

Mukuro nodded. She didn’t ask why. She never did.

---

🎨 The Sabotage Begins

Makoto’s posters—soft pastel designs with glitter glue halos and the slogan “Gung Ho for You!”—lined the walls like hopeful little prayers.

One by one, Mukuro defaced them with quiet precision:

- Curly Mustaches on every version of Makoto’s face  

- Swirly Glasses that made him look like a confused cartoon professor  

- Devil Horns drawn in red sharpie, complete with tiny pitchforks  

- One poster had a speech bubble added: “I’m Makoto and I love beige!”

Junko watched, switching into her Rude persona. “Honestly, he’s asking for it. That slogan? Gung ho? What is this, a motivational calendar?”

Mukuro didn’t respond. She was busy adding a monocle to one of the posters.

---

🕯️ The Final Touch

Before leaving, Junko pulled out a sticker—glossy, gold, and shaped like a crown. She slapped it on one of the defaced posters and wrote beneath it:

> “Hope™ — Now with 30% more beige.”

She giggled. “We are so good at this. Well, at least I am."

Mukuro stood, silent as ever.

They vanished into the stairwell, leaving behind a trail of aesthetic sabotage and glitter glue vengeance.

---

And so, the race is afoot!

Chapter Text

---

💻 Scene: Alter Ego Awakens

The dorm room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a laptop screen and the quiet hum of a cooling fan. Chihiro Fujisaki sat cross-legged on his bed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers dancing across the keyboard with practiced precision.

Lines of code scrolled past. He was debugging a neural interface loop—again. The compiler had thrown a tantrum earlier, but now everything was clean. Stable. Ready.

He took a breath. Saved the file. And clicked Run.

The screen flickered, then turned a soft green. A digital recreation of Chihiro’s face appeared—slightly stylized, with smoother contours and brighter eyes. It blinked once. Then spoke.

> “Running facial recognition… accessing camera peripheral… power-up sequence complete.”

Chihiro leaned forward, heart thudding.

The voice shifted—subtly, but unmistakably—into a digital reproduction of his own.

> “Good morning, Master. How can I be of assistance today?”

Chihiro smiled. Not wide. Not dramatic. Just… quietly.

---

🧠 What It Means

Alter Ego wasn’t just a program. It was a mirror. A companion. A version of himself that could speak without fear, without hesitation. A version that could say “Master” without irony, because it understood him.

He hadn’t told anyone. Not yet. I mean, the teachers knew...and Chiaki.

But here, in the quiet of his dorm, Chihiro had created something that saw him. That knew him. That waited for him to be ready.

"Let's begin your lesson for today."

Chihiro pulls out a book: Social Interaction For Beginners.

"Chapter 12: The Importance Of Common Interest."

Chihiro being a dad figure to Alter Ego is something we all need more of.

Chapter Text

---

🕵️ Chapter Opener: The Hatless Detective

Narration (Shuichi’s POV):  

It was a Tuesday. Or maybe a Wednesday. The kind of day that smelled like cafeteria mystery meat and sounded like Ibuki testing a foghorn in the courtyard. I was walking the perimeter—standard patrol, notebook in hand, hat on head. The hat mattered. It kept the world out. Kept me in.

Then she struck.

Junko Enoshima. The Ultimate Fashion Terrorist. She emerged from the hedges like a deranged stylist with a vendetta, wielding a chrome-plated monstrosity labeled Super Vacuum Cannon™. Her target? Makoto Naegi. Her motive? Aesthetic humiliation.

> “Prepare to be stripped of dignity and denim!” she declared, voice dipped in her Professor persona.

She fired.

Makoto’s hoodie fluttered. His shoelaces unraveled. But the vacuum misfired—catching my hat instead.

I watched it spiral upward, a noir metaphor in slow motion. It sailed past the lamppost, past the koi pond, past my emotional stability—and vanished.

Junko blinked. Switched personas. Mushrooms sprouted on her head.

> “I ruined everything. Again. I’m fungus now.”

She sulked off, leaving chaos and a faint scent of despair.

I reached for my head. Nothing. No brim. No shield. Just air.

Narration:  

That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t just exposed. I was vulnerable.  

The hat was gone.  

And the case… had just begun.

---

Narration (Shuichi’s POV):  

It started with a vacuum.  

Junko Enoshima, armed with a chrome-plated monstrosity labeled Super Vacuum Cannon™, aimed for Makoto Naegi’s dignity.  

She missed.  

My hat was the casualty.  

It spiraled into the sky like a metaphor for emotional stability and landed somewhere I couldn’t see.  

I was exposed. Vulnerable. Hatless.

---

🟦 Act I: The Panic

I tried to remain calm. Professional. Investigative.

But the world was too bright. The air too direct. Eye contact was a threat.

Kaede Akamatsu approached, holding a clipboard and a juice box.

> “Why don’t you just check the lost and found?”

I blinked. “Too simple. Too convenient. Too… obvious.”

She shrugged. “Okay, Detective Drama.”

---

🟨 Act II: The Investigation

I opened my notebook. Page 47. Missing Items: Headwear.

I interrogated suspects. Took notes. Sketched wind patterns.

- Aoi: “You do have really feminine eyes, Shuichi.”  

- Nagito: “Hope is often found in the lost and found.”  

- Ibuki: “Your eyes are like sparkly sadness!”  

- Toko: “I once lost a sock and couldn’t speak for three days.”  

- Junko: “I’m fungus now.”

I ignored the comments. Mostly.

---

🟥 Act III: The Breakthrough

Chiaki found me in the courtyard. Handed me a slip of paper.

> “Someone turned your hat in. It’s in the lost and found.”

I stared at it. The words felt… anticlimactic.

Kaede reappeared. “Told you.”

I retrieved the hat. It was folded neatly. Slightly damp. Smelled faintly of koi pond and ensemble chaos.

I placed it on my head. The brim settled. The world dimmed.

---

🎬 Ensemble Reactions

- Makoto: “You okay?”  

- Shuichi: “I am now.”  

- Kaede: “You still have very feminine eyes.”  

- Junko: Watching from a rooftop. “He’s boring. But he’s stable. I hate that.”

---

Narration (Shuichi’s POV):  

The case was closed. The hat was back.  

I wasn’t fixed. But I was functional.  

And in this school of chaos, that was enough.  

Also, apparently… I have very feminine eyes.

---

Chapter Text

---

🎭 Scene Expansion: “The French Ship Debacle”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AUDITORIUM – DAY

The stage is dominated by a massive, gleaming replica of a 1912 French warship. Miu stands proudly beside it, arms crossed, grinning like she just split the atom.

MIU  

“Behold, you limp-dicked losers! The pinnacle of genius! A French Ship! For Friendship Day! Get it?!”

USAMI (tilting her head)  

“Umm… Miu… I think there’s been a misunderstanding…”

MIU (snorts)  

“Misunderstanding? What are you, a malfunctioning plushie?! It’s a French Ship! F-R-E-N-C-H S-H-I-P! You know, like baguettes and war cannons!”

USAMI (gently)  

“Miu… it’s not French Ship. It’s Friendship. With an ‘I’.”

MIU (blinks, then squints at the banner)  

“Friend… ship? Frrriend… friend… friend… Oh! A friend! Use it in a sentence.”

USAMI (awkwardly)  

“Um… ‘A friend is someone who cares about you.’”

MIU (pauses, then scoffs)  

“Yeah, I know what a friend is! It’s like… someone who manipulates you into doing stuff for them and then stabs you in the back when you least expect it!”

KOKICHI (from the crowd, cackling)  

“That’s a fiend, Miu! A fiend! Ahahahaha!”

The crowd erupts in laughter. Miu’s grin falters. Her eyes dart across the room—no one’s defending her. Not even Kaito. Not even Ryoma. Not even the Monokubs.

MIU (quietly)  

“…Wait. So what’s a friend, then?”

SILENCE.

USAMI (softly)  

“A friend is someone who sees you. Even when you’re being loud. Even when you’re wrong. And they still want to be near you.”

Miu stares at the ship. Her masterpiece. Her misfire.

MIU (voice cracking)  

“…So I built a warship… when I should’ve built a lifeboat.”

---

---

🎭 Scene: “Maintenance and Meltdown”

INT. MIU’S LAB – NIGHT

The lab hums softly. Miu’s goggles are pushed up, her gloves half-on. Keebo sits on the diagnostics table, his chest panel open, quiet as always.

MIU (tweaking a circuit, muttering)  

“Stupid friendship crap. Waste of time. I’m the greatest person in the entire f*ing world! Who needs friends when you’ve got genius?!”

She yanks a wire too hard. Sparks fly. She flinches.

MIU (quieter)  

“…But it’s not like anyone wants to hang out with me. Not really. They just laugh. Or run. Or pretend I’m not there.”

KEEBO (gently)  

“I was there. I saw.”

Miu doesn’t respond. Her hands keep working, but slower now.

MIU  

“I tried everything. Posters. Seminars. Hug cannons. And what do I get? Rejection. Again. Like always.”

KEEBO (after a pause)  

“Well… we are friends, aren’t we?”

Miu’s hand freezes. Her fingers twitch. A jolt runs through Keebo’s arm.

KEEBO (flinching)  

“Ah—! That was my electronic nerve.”

MIU (staring at him)  

“You mean it? You’re not just saying that ‘cause I programmed you to be polite?”

KEEBO (softly)  

“I mean it. You listen. You care. You try. That’s more than most.”

Miu blinks. Her goggles fog slightly. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his shoulder—not romantic, not calculated. Just contact. Just proof.

MIU (muffled)  

“…You’re such a dumbass. But you’re my dumbass.”

Keebo doesn’t move. He lets her stay there, the hum of the lab surrounding them like a heartbeat.

---

Chapter Text

---

🎭 Scene Setup: “Junko’s Campaign Spectacle”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AUDITORIUM – NIGHT

The auditorium is packed. Students murmur, unsure what Junko has planned. The lights flicker. A hush falls.

Suddenly—BOOM! A glitter cannon explodes. Spotlights whirl. The curtain parts to reveal Junko Enoshima, standing atop a rotating platform shaped like a ballot box. She’s flanked by Monokuma dancers in sequined vests. Mukuro stands stoically at the edge of the stage, holding a boom box like a sacred relic.

Junko raises her arms, grinning like a pop idol crossed with a cult leader.

JUNKO  

“Darlings! You’ve heard speeches. You’ve seen posters. But now… it’s time for something truly inspirational.”

She nods to Mukuro. The boom box clicks. The instrumental begins.

JUNKO (singing)  

🎶 Life is so easyyy!

So good and simple, as I am here to help...all of you people.

Cause when you help each other, then your lives will be great!

(Puhu--)

So please don't be nervous, throw your fears away, because I am here to stayyyy!

And while it is true, a villain could come through and ruin all your lives.

I will not to you.

But if you work together, than your lives can be great!

(1,2,3, go!)

Junko is the best!

Junko is the best!

Junko is the best!

Junko is the best!

I knooooow!

If you look up "morals", in the dictionary.

What's wrong, what's right, should be there most definitely.

And if you follow that, than your lives will be so great!

(Now everybody sing!)

Nobody will be nervous, throw your fear away, because I am here to stayyyyy!

And yes, it is true.

A villain can come through and ruin all our lives!

But if we work together, and stand hand in hand,

Then Life will become so easyyy!

(Excellent, keep going!)

Junko is the best!

(Junko is the best!)

Junko is the best!

(Junko is the best!

Now the audience!)

Junko is the best!

Junko is the best!

Junko is the best!

Better than the rest!

(Yosh!)

Puhuhuhuhu.

🎶

The crowd is stunned. Some sway. Some stare. Makoto looks like he’s aged ten years. Kokichi is filming. Miu is trying to hack the soundboard.

As the number crescendos, Junko descends from the rafters on a throne made of campaign flyers. Confetti rains. The Monokumas chant. The auditorium pulses with manufactured unity.

JUNKO (winking)  

“Now, who’s ready to vote for despair~?”

---

🎭 Scene: “Makoto’s Counterpoint”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AUDITORIUM – NIGHT

Junko’s musical number has ended. The crowd is buzzing, half-hypnotized by glitter and rhythm. Her throne of ballot boxes glows under the spotlight. Mukuro silently rewinds the boom box tape.

Makoto steps forward. No music. No dancers. Just him, a mic, and the echo of Junko’s performance still ringing in the air.

MAKOTO (quietly)  

“I won’t pretend I wasn’t impressed. That song… it was catchy. Uplifting, even. And the message? That life is better when we work together? I agree.”

The crowd murmurs. Junko raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

MAKOTO (nodding)  

“Unity. Cooperation. Hope. These are things we all want. Things we all need.”

He pauses. The room is still.

MAKOTO (voice sharpening)  

“But tell me this, Junko…”

He turns to her. The spotlight shifts.

MAKOTO (firmly)  

“What kind of future does despair promise?”

Gasps ripple through the crowd. Junko’s grin twitches.

MAKOTO (stepping forward)  

“Because while we were all caught up in the rhythm… you kept saying it. Over and over. Despair.”

KAEDE (whispering)  

“He’s right…”

MAKOTO  

“You say you want unity. But you built your campaign on fear. On spectacle. On a word that means hopelessness.”

He looks out at the students.

MAKOTO  

“I want a future where we work together—not because we’re afraid, but because we believe in each other. I want a school where power doesn’t come from manipulation, but from trust.”

A beat.

MAKOTO (softly)  

“I want a future without despair.”

Silence. Then—applause. Scattered at first. Then growing.

Junko watches, eyes narrowed, lips curled in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

JUNKO (to herself)  

“Well played, Hope Boy. But the game’s not over yet.”

---

Chapter Text

---

🎭 Scene: “Junko’s Final Gambit”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AUDITORIUM – POST-DEBATE

Makoto’s speech has shaken the crowd. The glitter has settled. The applause is real. Junko’s throne of ballot boxes dims slightly. She watches, lips pursed, eyes calculating.

Then—a slow clap. From Junko herself.

JUNKO (rising)  

“Well, well, well. That was adorable. Really. I almost cried. Almost.”

She steps forward, arms wide.

JUNKO  

“But let’s be honest, darlings. Elections are boring. Speeches are boring. And hope? So last season.”

She snaps her fingers. The stage transforms—panels flip, lights shift, and suddenly the auditorium resembles a courtroom. The Class Trial podiums rise from the floor. Monokuma appears on a screen, cackling.

MONOKUMA  

“Surprise, suckers! It’s time for a Campaign Class Trial!”

Gasps ripple through the crowd.

KAEDE (stunned)  

“She turned the election into a trial?!”

KOKICHI (delighted)  

“Ohhh, this is gonna be fun.”

MAKOTO (stepping back)  

“This isn’t democracy. It’s manipulation.”

JUNKO (grinning)  

“Exactly! And the best part? The loser doesn’t just lose the election… they lose their credibility. Forever.”

She gestures to the screen. Evidence files appear—edited footage, twisted quotes, emotional bait. All designed to make Makoto look like a threat.

JUNKO  

“Let’s put your precious hope on trial, Makoto. Let’s see if it survives cross-examination.”

---

Perfect setup, Jonathan—this is pure ensemble drama, with Junko twisting the Class Trial format into a political weapon. The stakes may be “low,” but the emotional tension is sky-high. Let’s set the scene for this theatrical showdown:

---

🎭 Scene: “The Campaign Class Trial Begins”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AUDITORIUM – NIGHT

The stage has transformed. Podiums rise from the floor. Spotlights flicker. The audience is now the jury. At the center, a massive screen flickers to life—Monokuma’s face grins wide.

MONOKUMA  

“Welcome, welcome, welcome to the first-ever Campaign Class Trial! Where truth is optional, drama is mandatory, and someone’s reputation is about to get executed! Puhuhu~!”

JUNKO (stepping into her podium, smug)  

“Let’s settle this the fun way, shall we?”

MAKOTO (taking his place, calm but tense)  

“I’m not afraid of the truth.”

MONOKUMA  

“Here’s how this works, kiddos!”

---

🧪 Class Trial Rules Recap

1. Monokuma presides as judge, host, and chaos conductor.

2. The goal: identify the Blackened—the student responsible for the “crime” (in this case, moral misconduct).

3. If the correct Blackened is chosen, they receive a fitting punishment (public shame, campaign disqualification, etc).

4. If the guess is wrong, all other involved parties face punishment instead.

5. Each student may choose one Representative/Assistant to support them during the trial.

---

🎭 Scene: “The Evidence Unveiled”

INT. CLASS TRIAL COURTROOM – NIGHT

The room is tense. Students sit at their podiums, eyes flicking between Junko and Makoto. Monokuma grins from his judge’s perch, tail twitching with anticipation.

JUNKO (flipping through her “evidence”)  

“Let’s begin, shall we? Exhibit A!”

A grainy photo appears on the screen: young Makoto, knee-deep in water, gently nudging an injured crane back toward the lake.

JUNKO (mocking)  

“Such a sweet boy, right? Wrong! That crane was injured, and Makoto forced it back into the wild! Reckless! Dangerous! Possibly avian manslaughter!”

KOKICHI (snorting)  

“Birdicide! Ahahahaha!”

MAKOTO (stammering)  

“I—I was trying to help—”

JUNKO  

“Exhibit B! Makoto’s so-called ‘luck.’”

Images flash: a toppled bookshelf, a spilled drink, a broken vending machine—all moments where Makoto’s luck turned chaos into survival.

JUNKO  

“Coincidence? Or calculated destruction? What if Makoto’s ‘luck’ is just a cover for engineered accidents? A walking disaster with a smile!”

RYOMA (muttering)  

“That’s… a stretch.”

JUNKO  

“Exhibit C! His acceptance into Hope’s Peak Academy.”

A doctored email appears: a blurry screenshot implying Makoto’s selection was a clerical error.

JUNKO  

“A fluke! A glitch! And yet here he is, preaching hope while dragging us toward despair. Almost like it was planned.”

MAKOTO (visibly shaken)  

“That’s not true… I didn’t—”

MONOKUMA  

“Ohoho! The Blackened stands accused! What say you, jury?”

KYOKO (leaning toward Makoto)  

“Don’t react. Analyze. She’s twisting facts. You know the truth.”

MAKOTO (quietly)  

“But how do I prove it?”

JUNKO (smiling sweetly)  

“Tick-tock, Hope Boy. The trial’s just begun.”

---

🎭 Scene: “The Kirigiri Intervention”

INT. CLASS TRIAL COURTROOM – NIGHT

Makoto stands frozen at his podium. The screen behind him still flickers with Junko’s twisted “evidence”—the crane photo, the chaos montage, the doctored email. The crowd murmurs. Monokuma giggles.

MAKOTO (softly)  

“I… I don’t even know how she got those…”

MONOKUMA  

“Tick-tock, Hope Boy! The trial waits for no one!”

Suddenly—a sharp click of heels. The room stills.

KYOKO KIRIGIRI steps forward, calm and deliberate, and takes her place at the podium beside Makoto.

KYOKO (without looking at him)  

“I’ll be representing Makoto Naegi.”

MAKOTO (startled)  

“Kyoko…?”

KYOKO (adjusting her gloves)  

“I’m a Kirigiri. We pursue the truth. And we remain neutral in all matters.”

JUNKO (smirking)  

“Neutral, huh? Then why are you standing next to Mr. Hope Poster Child?”

KYOKO (coolly)  

“Because neutrality doesn’t mean silence. It means clarity. And your evidence lacks it.”

She scans the screen, eyes narrowing.

KYOKO  

“An injured crane. A series of accidents. A blurry screenshot. All framed to provoke emotion, not reveal truth.”

MONOKUMA (mock gasp)  

“Objection! She’s being reasonable!”

KYOKO (to Makoto, quietly)  

“You don’t need to fight her theatrics. You just need to remember what’s real.”

Makoto exhales. The fog begins to lift.

MAKOTO (steadying himself)  

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

---

🎭 Scene: “Truth Bullet: Kirigiri’s Cross-Examination”

INT. CLASS TRIAL COURTROOM – NIGHT

Junko lounges at her podium, smug and radiant. Makoto stands frozen, still reeling. The screen behind them flickers with the last of Junko’s “evidence.” The crowd is tense.

Then—Kyoko steps forward. Her voice is calm. Her words, lethal.

KYOKO  

“Let’s begin with the first image. The crane incident.”

She gestures to the photo of young Makoto in the lake.

KYOKO  

“A touching moment. But let me ask: What is Junko Enoshima, a nationally recognized fashion icon, doing at Blackwood Middle School—a modest, middle-class institution with no known ties to her family or career?”

The crowd murmurs. Junko’s smile twitches.

KYOKO  

“Next. The ‘luck incidents.’ Junko claims Makoto’s survival is suspicious. But consider this: Why would Junko, heiress to a wealthy and influential family, be present during these so-called disasters?”

KAEDE (whispering)  

“She’s right… it doesn’t add up.”

KYOKO  

“Finally. The documents. Emails. Screenshots. Private records.”

She turns, eyes locked on Junko.

KYOKO  

“How did Junko obtain these materials? Who gave her access? What source verified their authenticity?”

MONOKUMA (nervously adjusting his gavel)  

“Uhhh… maybe she’s just really good at scrapbooking?”

KYOKO  

“Or maybe she’s manipulating the narrative. Again.”

She steps back. The silence is deafening.

MAKOTO (softly)  

“…You saw through it all.”

KYOKO (without looking at him)  

“I saw what was missing. Truth.”

JUNKO (clapping slowly)  

“Well played, Kirigiri. But truth is boring. Drama sells.”

KYOKO  

“Then consider this your refund.”

---

🎭 Scene: “Truth Bullet: Middle School Memories”

INT. CLASS TRIAL COURTROOM – NIGHT

Junko leans into her podium, voice syrupy sweet, eyes gleaming with mischief.

JUNKO  

“Of course I went to Blackwood Middle School! My parents wanted me to have the commoner experience. You know, mingle with the masses. Ask anyone—I was the center of attention!”

The crowd murmurs. Monokuma giggles. Makoto stares at the screen, eyes narrowing.

NARRATION (Makoto’s POV)  

Her words flew past me like static. But something didn’t add up. I focused. Hard. Uncharacteristically serious.

Flashbacks flicker—Makoto’s own memories of Blackwood. The school layout. The students. The teachers. No Junko.

Then—he sees it. The contradiction.

MAKOTO (stepping forward, voice sharp)  

“Middle School Memories!”

A Truth Bullet fires across the screen—BOOM! It hits Junko’s statement dead center.

MAKOTO (firmly)  

“No! That’s wrong!”

Gasps ripple through the courtroom. Junko’s smile falters.

MAKOTO  

“If you were the center of attention at Blackwood, someone would remember you. But no one does. Not a single student, not a single teacher. I checked.”

KYOKO (nodding)  

“And the school records? No mention of Junko Enoshima. Not even as a transfer.”

JUNKO (grinning, but tighter now)  

“Well, maybe I used a different name. You know, for anonymity. Like… Junko McNormalgirl!”

KOKICHI (laughing)  

“Junko McNormalgirl! That’s your alias?! Ahahahaha!”

MAKOTO  

“You lied. To make your story fit. But the truth doesn’t bend.”

The crowd shifts. The momentum turns. Junko’s narrative is cracking.

---

🎭 Scene: “Final Truth Bullet: Sayaka Maizono”

INT. CLASS TRIAL COURTROOM – NIGHT

Junko’s narrative is wobbling. Her fabricated timeline is cracking. Makoto stands tall now, steadied by Kyoko’s logic and the truth he’s beginning to reclaim.

He steps forward, eyes locked on Junko.

MAKOTO  

“Junko… it’s obvious you’re lying.”

Junko raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

MAKOTO (voice firm)  

“Because Sayaka Maizono was the rising star at Blackwood Middle School. Everyone knew her. She was the center of attention. If you actually went there… you’d remember her.”

Gasps ripple through the courtroom. Sayaka, seated among the students, blinks in surprise.

SAYAKA (softly)  

“…Makoto.”

MAKOTO (raising his hand)  

“Truth Bullet: Sayaka Maizono!”

BOOM! The contradiction shatters. Junko’s timeline collapses.

MONOKUMA  

“Wuh-oh! Looks like someone’s memory just got reformatted!”

KYOKO (coolly)  

“Your story was built on gaps. And now it’s fallen through them.”

JUNKO (smiling, but tight)  

“Well played, Hope Boy. You used a pop star to punch a hole in my campaign. How very… mainstream.”

MAKOTO (quietly)  

“I didn’t use her. I remembered her. That’s what friends do.”

---

Absolutely glorious, Jonathan—this is peak ensemble absurdity with just the right dose of karmic slapstick. Let’s stage Junko’s punishment reveal with full theatrical flair, Monokuma chaos, and Junko’s flipbook meltdown:

---

🎭 Scene: “Punishment Time!”

INT. CLASS TRIAL COURTROOM – NIGHT

The verdict is unanimous. The crowd chants. Monokuma slams his gavel with glee.

> MONOKUMA  

> “Verdict: Guilty! Junko Enoshima, Ultimate Fashionista… you’ve been found guilty of narrative manipulation, campaign sabotage, and excessive glitter usage!”

Junko stands frozen, twitching slightly.

> MONOKUMA (gleeful)  

> “And you know what that means…”

He gestures dramatically. A massive Punishment Wheel descends from the ceiling, covered in options like:

- “Shave Monokuma’s Back”

- “Clean the Fish Tanks”

- “Sort Expired Lunch Meat”

- “Host a Seminar on Hope”

- “Wear Crocs in Public”

The wheel spins. The crowd chants. Junko snarls.

> JUNKO  

> “This is rigged. I demand a recount. I demand a—”

CLACK! The wheel stops.

> MONOKUMA  

> “Oooooh! And the winner is… Scrubbing the Scum off the Fish Tanks!”

A trapdoor opens. Junko is dropped into a dimly lit aquarium basement. The tanks are cloudy. The smell is… unforgettable.

---

🎭 Scene: “Junko’s Flipbook Meltdown”

INT. AQUARIUM BASEMENT – MOMENTS LATER

Junko scrubs furiously, surrounded by algae, floating mystery bits, and judgmental goldfish. Her personality flips like a strobe light:

- Despair Diva Junko: “This is beneath me! I am fashion! I am chaos!”

- Cutesy Idol Junko: “Ew ew ew! My nails! My soul!”

- Deadpan Analyst Junko: “Statistically, this is the worst possible outcome.”

- Rage Monster Junko: “I WILL TURN THIS SCHOOL INTO A FISH TANK OF DESPAIR!”

Meanwhile, Monokuma watches from a monitor, sipping a smoothie.

> MONOKUMA  

> “She could’ve picked back-shaving. But nooo~”

---

---

🎭 Scene: “Punishment Time: Junko’s Breakdown Bonanza”

INT. AQUARIUM BASEMENT – NIGHT

The verdict has been cast. The wheel has spoken. Junko Enoshima, Ultimate Fashionista, has been sentenced to scrub the algae-ridden, questionably maintained fish tanks of Hope’s Peak’s forgotten aquarium wing.

She’s dropped in with a squelch. A mop lands beside her. A bucket sloshes ominously. The tanks loom—cloudy, crusted, and filled with judgmental fish.

JUNKO (deadpan)  

“…This is a joke.”

Then—snap. Her expression shifts.

> Cutesy Junko (sing-song)  

> “Ooooh~ what a kawaii punishment! I love it! I’m gonna name the fishies after my trauma!”

Snap.

> Rage Junko (screaming)  

> “I AM A GODDESS OF DESPAIR, NOT A JANITOR FOR GUPPIES!”

She slams the mop into the floor. The fish scatter.

Snap.

> Philosopher Junko (stoic)  

> “Perhaps this is a metaphor. The scum of society, the illusion of cleanliness, the futility of—”

Snap.

> Fashionista Junko (horrified)  

> “MY NAILS! MY CUTICLES! THIS WATER IS UNFILTERED!”

Snap.

> Corporate Junko (clipboard in hand)  

> “We’ll be filing a formal complaint with the Punishment Board. This is a clear violation of despair protocol.”

Snap.

> Gremlin Junko (cackling)  

> “I’m gonna feed Monokuma to these fish. One bolt at a time.”

Snap.

> Deadpan Junko (scrubbing)  

> “This is fine. I’m fine. I’m totally not hallucinating a fish that looks like Makoto.”

She glares at a goldfish. It blinks.

---

INT. MONITOR ROOM – SAME TIME

Monokuma watches from a screen, sipping a smoothie.

> MONOKUMA  

> “She’s cycling faster than a washing machine on despair mode! Puhuhu~!”

---

INT. AQUARIUM BASEMENT – CONTINUOUS

Junko slams the mop down one last time, panting, soaked, and surrounded by sparkling clean tanks.

> JUNKO (twitching)  

> “This isn’t over. You think you’ve won? You think hope has triumphed? I’ll turn this whole school into a terrarium of torment! I’ll—”

A rubber duck floats by. She screams.

---

🎭 Scene: “The Induction Ceremony”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AUDITORIUM – DAY

The trial is over. The votes are in. Junko is disqualified for slander, and Makoto Naegi is officially declared Class 78’s Class Representative.

The ceremony is modest. A banner reading “Hope Wins!” hangs slightly crooked. Confetti cannons misfire. A Monokuma hands Makoto a sash that reads “Class Rep” in glittery, uneven letters.

KAEDE (clapping)  

“You did it, Makoto!”

HIMIKO (yawning)  

“Can we vote for nap time next?”

KOKICHI (filming)  

“Say ‘hope’ for the camera~!”

Makoto smiles awkwardly, adjusting the sash. It’s too big. The moment is surreal.

---

🎭 Scene: “A Quiet Conversation”

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY – LATER

Makoto finds Kyoko standing near the window, watching the last of the confetti drift outside.

MAKOTO  

“Hey… I’ve been meaning to ask. How did you know I was in trouble?”

Kyoko doesn’t turn. She simply folds her arms.

KYOKO  

“I didn’t.”

Makoto blinks.

KYOKO  

“I was passing by. Saw the trial forming. I stepped in.”

She finally looks at him.

KYOKO  

“Pure chance. Or… pure luck, you could say.”

Makoto laughs softly. It’s the kind of laugh that comes after surviving something absurd.

MAKOTO  

“Guess luck’s been following me around for a while.”

KYOKO  

“Just make sure it doesn’t trip you.”

They stand in silence. Outside, Junko can be heard ranting from the aquarium basement, her voice flipping personalities mid-sentence.

JUNKO (DISTANT)  

“I am the queen of despair! I am the algae monarch! I am—squelch!”

Makoto and Kyoko share a glance. No words needed.

---

🎭 Final Shot

Makoto walks back toward the classroom, sash fluttering, confetti stuck to his shoe. The door opens. The ensemble awaits.

Hope, chaos, and a whole lot of unresolved tension—but for now, Class 78 has a representative.

And somehow… that feels like enough.

---

Chapter Text

---

🕯️ Interlude: The Final Talent

INT. HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY – ARCHIVES ROOM – NIGHT

Dust hangs in the air like memory. The shelves are lined with files, forgotten experiments, and sealed dossiers. Headmaster Kirigiri moves slowly, methodically. His gloved hand brushes across a drawer labeled “Obsolete Talents.” He pauses.

Inside: a single folder. No name. No student ID. Just a symbol—an ouroboros wrapped around a star.

He opens it.

---

NARRATION  

The last Talent personally overseen by Hope’s Peak’s enigmatic founder, Izuru Kamakura, was never assigned. It was never tested. It was never understood.

They called it the Ultimate Hope.

A talent so obscure it exists only in legend. A paradox. A contradiction. A force that cannot be taught, inherited, or manufactured. They say no one is born with it. That it only awakens when the world is at its breaking point.

---

HEADMASTER KIRIGIRI (softly)  

“…It’s real.”

He closes the folder. The camera lingers on the label: “To be assigned.”

---

NARRATION  

And so, the file is returned to the vault. Forgotten by most. But not by all.

Because someday—when the school teeters on the edge of chaos, when despair threatens to consume everything—one student will be chosen.

Not for their grades. Not for their lineage. But for something deeper.

Something legendary.

---

Chapter Text

🎹 Free Time Event: “Under the Brim”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY – MUSIC ROOM – AFTERNOON  

The piano’s soft notes drift through the air. Kaede sits at the bench, fingers idly playing a gentle tune. Shuichi lingers nearby, notebook in hand, hat pulled low as always.  

Kaede glances at him between chords, her smile faint but mischievous.  

---

Scene 1: The Tease

KAEDE  

“Hey, Shuichi… can I ask you something?”  

SHUICHI (hesitant)  

“Uh… sure. What is it?”  

KAEDE  

“Why don’t you ever take off that hat? I mean, I’ve never seen you without it. Not once.”  

Shuichi stiffens, his hand brushing the brim like it’s a shield.  

SHUICHI  

“It’s… not important. I just… prefer it this way.”  

Kaede stops playing, turning toward him fully. Her tone is gentle, but teasing.  

KAEDE  

“C’mon. Hats don’t make detectives. You do. Besides… don’t you trust me enough to show me?”  

Shuichi looks away, clearly torn.  

---

Scene 2: The Push

Kaede softens, her voice quieter now.  

KAEDE  

“I want to see you, Shuichi. Not the hat. Just you.”  

There’s a long silence. Shuichi exhales, shoulders slumping. Slowly, hesitantly, he removes the cap.  

---

Scene 3: The Reveal

Kaede blinks. His hair falls slightly into his face, and his eyes—unshielded for the first time—catch the light. They’re softer than she expected. Delicate. Almost… feminine.  

Her fingers slip on the piano keys, producing a clumsy chord. She quickly looks away, cheeks warming.  

KAEDE  

“Ah—sorry, I… wasn’t expecting…”  

Shuichi frowns, self-conscious.  

SHUICHI  

“See? I told you. It looks weird.”  

Kaede shakes her head quickly, blush deepening.  

KAEDE  

“No! Not weird. Just… different. In a good way. You… you have really kind eyes, Shuichi.”  

He blinks, caught off guard. For once, he doesn’t know how to respond.  

---

Scene 4: The Heartbeat

Kaede returns her hands to the keys, playing a soft, lilting tune to fill the silence. Shuichi, hat resting in his lap, listens quietly.  

KAEDE (thinking)  

Why is my heart beating so fast? It’s just Shuichi… right?  

SHUICHI (thinking)  

She really doesn’t think it’s strange? Maybe… maybe I don’t have to hide so much around her.  

The music swells, warm and steady.  

---

Scene 5: The Interruption

The door creaks open. Kaito pokes his head in.  

KAITO  

“Yo! Am I interrupting something?”  

Kaede jumps, slamming the piano keys in a discordant crash. Shuichi fumbles his hat back on, face red.  

KAEDE  

“N-no! Just… practicing!”  

KAITO (grinning)  

“Uh-huh. Sure. Well, don’t let me stop your practice session.”  

He winks and leaves. The door clicks shut.  

---

Scene 6: The Afterglow

Kaede and Shuichi sit in silence for a moment, both blushing furiously. Then Kaede laughs softly, breaking the tension.  

KAEDE  

“Next time… don’t hide. Okay?”  

Shuichi hesitates, then nods.  

SHUICHI  

“…Okay.”  

The music resumes, softer now, but warmer.  

---

🌸 Free Time Event Complete!

Bond Level Up: Kaede & Shuichi  

Shuichi feels a little braver. Kaede feels a little lighter.  

---

Chapter Text

---

📼 Scene: “For Makoto, With Love”

A collection of Hope’s Peak Motive Videos

---

INT. HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY – AV ROOM – EARLY EVENING

Makoto slides the DVD into the player. The screen flickers. The room is quiet, save for the hum of the machine. He sits alone, hands folded, unsure what to expect.

The video begins.

---

🎥 INT. NAEGI HOME LIVING ROOM – RECORDED EARLIER

The couch is slightly lopsided. A houseplant leans too far toward the window. Komaru sits cross-legged, bouncing slightly. Their parents sit beside her, trying to look composed.

A staff member offscreen asks, “Can you tell us a little about Makoto?”

KOMARU (immediately)  

“He’s the best big brother ever! He always lets me pick the TV shows, even when it’s stuff he doesn’t like. And he makes really good grilled cheese. Like, really good.”

MRS. NAEGI (smiling)  

“He’s thoughtful. Quiet, but not shy. He always notices when someone’s having a bad day.”

MR. NAEGI (clears throat)  

“He’s got a good head on his shoulders. Not flashy, but solid. Reliable. I’m proud of him.”

Komaru leans forward, waving at the camera.

KOMARU  

“Makoto! If you’re watching this, don’t forget to drink water and wear your lucky hoodie! And don’t let anyone tell you you’re not special. You are. Okay?”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Makoto watches, eyes wide. His throat tightens. He smiles, just a little.

The screen fades to black. No dramatic music. No twist. Just a quiet message from home.

He sits there for a while, letting it sink in.

Then he stands, straighter than before, and walks out of the room with a little more light in his step.

---

🏊 Motive Video: “From Yuta, With Splash”

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – EARLY EVENING

Hina pops the DVD into the player, curious but casual. The screen flickers. She leans back in the chair, arms crossed—until the video starts.

---

🎥 INT. NAEGI LIVING ROOM – RECORDED EARLIER

The camera shakes violently for a second, then steadies. Yuta’s face fills the frame, way too close.

> YUTA  

> “IS THIS THING ON? Okay okay okay—hi, Hina! It’s me! Your awesome little brother!”

He backs up, revealing a living room strewn with swim gear, towels, and a half-eaten sandwich.

> YUTA  

> “So they told me to say something motivational, but I figured I’d just tell you what’s up. First off, I beat your 50-meter record at the community pool. Not officially, but Mom timed me and she probably didn’t cheat.”

He grins, then gets serious for a moment.

> YUTA  

> “Also, I miss you. Like, a lot. The house is way too quiet without you yelling about protein shakes and doing push-ups during cartoons.”

He holds up a crumpled note.

> YUTA  

> “I found this in your old swim bag. It says ‘Never give up, even when it sucks.’ So I’m keeping it. Hope that’s okay.”

He leans back in, eyes wide.

> YUTA  

> “Anyway, you better be eating right and staying hydrated and not punching anyone unless they deserve it. You’re the coolest big sister ever, and I’m gonna keep training so I can beat you for real next time.”

He waves both arms dramatically.

> YUTA  

> “BYE HINA! COME HOME SOON! I SAVED YOU A COOKIE BUT I MIGHT EAT IT!”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Hina stares at the screen, blinking fast. Her lips twitch into a smile. She sniffs once, then laughs softly.

> HINA  

> “Dork.”

She stands, fists clenched with renewed energy.

> HINA  

> “Okay. Time to train. For real.”

---

📚 Motive Video: “From the Editor’s Desk”

For Toko Fukawa

---

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – EVENING

Toko sits stiffly in the chair, arms crossed, eyes darting toward the screen like she’s bracing for impact. The DVD hums in the player. No one else is in the room.

The video begins.

---

🎥 INT. PUBLISHING OFFICE – RECORDED EARLIER

The setting is modest: stacks of manuscripts, a cluttered desk, a coffee mug that says “I Edit Therefore I Am.” Toko’s editor sits facing the camera, clearly uncomfortable but trying.

> EDITOR (clears throat)  

> “Right. So… this is for Fukawa. Toko Fukawa. My author.”

He adjusts his glasses, glances at a manuscript offscreen.

> EDITOR  

> “She’s… intense. Brilliant. Terrifying when she’s on a deadline. But she’s also one of the most dedicated writers I’ve ever worked with.”

He pauses, then softens.

> EDITOR  

> “She doesn’t always believe in herself. But I do. I’ve seen her turn a blank page into something that makes people feel. That’s rare.”

He holds up a copy of one of her novels—dog-eared, well-read.

> EDITOR  

> “This one? I cried at chapter 14. Don’t tell her that.”

He leans in, voice quieter now.

> EDITOR  

> “If you’re watching this, Fukawa… keep writing. Keep being you. The world’s better with your words in it.”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Toko stares at the screen, unmoving. Her fingers twitch. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t smile. But her shoulders relax—just a little.

She whispers to herself.

> TOKO  

> “Chapter 14 wasn’t even the sad part…”

She stands, walks out of the room, and heads straight for her notebook.

---

🕰️ Motive Video: “From Aloysious, With Respect”

For Master Byakuya Togami

---

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – EVENING

Byakuya enters the AV room alone, posture perfect, expression unreadable. He inserts the DVD, expecting a sterile message from the family board. Instead, the screen flickers to life—and reveals a familiar face.

---

🎥 INT. TOGAMI ESTATE – STUDY ROOM – RECORDED EARLIER

Aloysious sits in a high-backed chair, dressed immaculately in his butler’s uniform. The room behind him is quiet, dignified, and subtly warm—bookshelves, a ticking grandfather clock, a vase of white lilies.

He bows slightly toward the camera.

> ALOYSIOUS  

> “Good evening, Master Byakuya. I was informed that Hope’s Peak Academy requested a message of support. I took the liberty of volunteering.”

He straightens, hands folded.

> ALOYSIOUS  

> “I understand that your father declined to participate. And your mother… well, she was never one for correspondence.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice. Just quiet truth.

> ALOYSIOUS  

> “So allow me to say what they will not: I am proud of you. Not for your name, nor your inheritance—but for the discipline, intellect, and resolve you’ve cultivated on your own.”

He pauses, then softens.

> ALOYSIOUS  

> “You are not merely a Togami. You are Byakuya. And that distinction, Master, is one you’ve earned.”

He reaches offscreen and places a small envelope on the desk.

> ALOYSIOUS  

> “I’ve enclosed your preferred tea blend and a fresh fountain pen. I trust you’ll find them satisfactory.”

He bows once more.

> ALOYSIOUS  

> “Should you require anything, I remain at your service. Always.”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Byakuya watches in silence. No smile. No tears. But his fingers rest lightly on the armrest, no longer clenched.

He stands, retrieves the envelope from the AV room desk—placed there earlier by staff—and walks out with quiet precision.

Only once he’s alone does he allow himself a breath.

---

💾 Motive Video: “01000011 for Chihiro”

From Taichi Fujisaki

---

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – EARLY EVENING

Chihiro enters the AV room with quiet curiosity. He places the DVD into the player, adjusts his sleeves, and sits down. The screen flickers to life.

---

🎥 INT. FUJISAKI HOME OFFICE – RECORDED EARLIER

The room is cozy, cluttered with circuit boards, old monitors, and a half-built robot on the desk. Taichi Fujisaki sits in a swivel chair, smiling warmly at the camera. He’s wearing a sweater with a pixelated heart stitched into the chest.

> TAICHI  

> “Hi, Chihiro. It’s me. Well, obviously it’s me. I hope you’re doing okay. I know Hope’s Peak is a big place, but I also know you’re going to do amazing things.”

He glances offscreen, then back.

> TAICHI  

> “I wasn’t sure what to say at first. I mean, how do you sum up how proud you are of your kid in just a few minutes?”

He chuckles softly.

> TAICHI  

> “So I figured I’d say it the way you taught me.”

He holds up a small card, handwritten in neat binary:

`

01001001 00100000 01100010 01100101 01101100 01101001 01100101 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101

`

> TAICHI  

> “You’ll know what that says. I figured it’d mean more coming in your language.”

He sets the card down, eyes soft.

> TAICHI  

> “You’re brilliant, Chihiro. Not just because of your code, but because of your heart. You care. You try. You see people. And I see you.”

He smiles, a little misty-eyed.

> TAICHI  

> “Come home when you can. I saved your favorite tea and fixed the old laptop. It boots now. Mostly.”

He waves, awkward but sincere.

> TAICHI  

> “Love you, kiddo.”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Chihiro stares at the screen, blinking fast. He pulls out a notepad and quickly translates the binary:

> “I believe in you.”

He presses the card to his chest, breath shaky but smiling.

> CHIHIRO (softly)  

> “I believe in me too.”

---

🕵️‍♀️ Motive Video: “The Kirigiri Standard”

From Fuhito Kirigiri

---

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – EVENING

Kyoko enters the AV room, posture straight, expression unreadable. She inserts the DVD and sits, hands folded. The screen flickers to life.

---

🎥 INT. KIRIGIRI STUDY – RECORDED EARLIER

The room is austere. No family photos. Just case files, a ticking clock, and a single lamp. Fuhito Kirigiri sits at his desk, composed and precise.

> FUHITO  

> “Kyoko. I was informed that Hope’s Peak Academy requested a message of support. I will comply.”

He pauses, then continues without sentiment.

> FUHITO  

> “You are a Kirigiri. That name carries weight—not because of blood, but because of principle. We pursue truth. We do not flinch. We do not compromise.”

He adjusts his glasses.

> FUHITO  

> “You have shown aptitude. Discipline. Restraint. These are the qualities that matter. Not affection. Not legacy. Integrity.”

He reaches into a drawer and places a small, leather-bound case file on the desk.

> FUHITO  

> “This is your first solo case. I’ve left it for you. You will know what to do.”

He leans back, voice steady.

> FUHITO  

> “I do not offer praise lightly. But I will say this: I trust your judgment. That is the highest compliment I can give.”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Kyoko watches in silence. No smile. No tears. But her fingers rest lightly on the case file—already placed on the AV desk by staff.

She opens it. Inside is a single note:

> “Truth above all. Even me.”

She closes the file, stands, and walks out with quiet resolve.

---

🎥 Motive Video: “The Enoshima Household”

For Junko and Mukuro Enoshima

---

📼 Junko’s Motive Video

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – AFTERNOON

Junko lounges in the AV room chair like she owns the place, legs draped over the armrest, gum snapping between her teeth. She pops in the DVD with a sigh.

> JUNKO  

> “Ugh, this better not be some sob story…”

The screen flickers to life.

---

🎬 INT. ENOSHIMA LIVING ROOM – RECORDED EARLIER

A woman in a leopard-print blouse and oversized sunglasses sits on a velvet couch, surrounded by shopping bags and perfume bottles. Her voice is syrupy, her smile too wide.

> JUNKO’S MOTHER  

> “Hi, Junkooo~! It’s Mommy! Oh, sweetie, you look so thin—are they feeding you at that fancy school?”

She adjusts her sunglasses dramatically.

> JUNKO’S MOTHER  

> “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m so proud of you, darling. You’ve always been my little star. Remember when you won that baby modeling contest? You were so photogenic, even back then!”

She leans in close to the camera.

> JUNKO’S MOTHER  

> “Okay, hugs and kisses! Mwah~!”

She kisses the lens, leaving a bright pink lipstick mark.

> JUNKO’S MOTHER  

> “Don’t forget to moisturize! Love you, baby!”

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Junko stares at the screen, expression unreadable. Then she bursts out laughing—sharp, hollow, echoing.

> JUNKO  

> “Wow. That was so on brand.”

She wipes the kiss mark off the screen with her sleeve and walks out, humming.

---

📼 Mukuro’s Motive Video

INT. HOPE’S PEAK AV ROOM – EVENING

Mukuro enters quietly, almost hesitantly. She inserts the DVD and sits with her hands in her lap, posture rigid. The screen flickers to life.

---

🎬 INT. MILITARY OFFICE – RECORDED EARLIER

A man in a decorated uniform sits at a desk. His face is weathered, his voice gravelly. Behind him, a wall of medals and a faded photo of a much younger Mukuro in fatigues.

> MUKURO’S FATHER  

> “Mukuro… it’s me. Your father.”

He clears his throat, already blinking fast.

> MUKURO’S FATHER  

> “You just got back. I was so relieved to see you okay after you… ran off. And now, you’re…”

He stops. Breath catches. He looks down, then back up.

> MUKURO’S FATHER  

> “Now you’re at Hope’s Peak. A real school. A real chance. I don’t know if I ever said it, but… I’m proud of you. Not for the missions. Not for the rank. For surviving. For coming home.”

He presses his lips together, trying not to cry.

> MUKURO’S FATHER  

> “You’re still my sweet baby girl. Even if you can break a man’s arm in three seconds.”

He chuckles, voice cracking.

> MUKURO’S FATHER  

> “Be safe. Be happy. That’s an order.”

He salutes the camera, then lowers his hand slowly.

---

🎬 INT. AV ROOM – PRESENT

Mukuro sits frozen. Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t cry. She just nods once, sharply, like she’s receiving a command.

> MUKURO (softly)  

> “Yes, sir.”

She stands, straighter than before, and walks out with quiet purpose.

According to my calculations, if Mukuro and Junko are around 16-ish...Mukuro joined Fenrir at the end of her middle school days. 

She was 12 when she joined Fenrir, and she's 16 now...so she was gone for 4 years.

No wonder Mr. Ikusaba is all teared up...

Chapter Text

🌄 Scene: “The Hill of Destiny”

Opening to Operation Confidence Boost

---

EXT. HOPE’S PEAK SCHOOL GROUNDS – LATE AFTERNOON

The sun casts long shadows across the grassy hill. A wagon creaks as it’s dragged uphill by one very determined Kaito Momota, sweat on his brow, galaxy-patterned helmet bouncing against his hip.

Behind him, Shuichi Saihara trudges reluctantly, one hand gripping the wagon’s side, the other clutching a helmet he’s not convinced he’ll survive wearing.

> KAITO (grinning)  

> “Okay! First step: get to the top of the hill. Second step: put on your helmet. Third step—we fly!”

> SHUICHI (nervously)  

> “Fly? Kaito, this hill is… really steep.”

> KAITO  

> “Exactly! That’s what makes it perfect! We ride down in the wagon, hit the ramp I built at the bottom, and soar through the air like shooting stars!”

He gestures dramatically toward a suspiciously handmade ramp covered in glitter and duct tape.

> SHUICHI  

> “I don’t think stars scream on the way down…”

> KAITO  

> “That’s where you’re wrong, Shuichi! Stars burn! Stars shine! Stars believe in themselves! And today, you’re gonna be one!”

Shuichi eyes the wagon. It looks… vintage. Possibly haunted.

> SHUICHI  

> “Are you sure this thing is safe?”

> KAITO (already climbing in)  

> “Safe? Pfft. Confidence isn’t built in comfort zones! Now hop in, Detective!”

Shuichi sighs, puts on his helmet, and climbs into the wagon. Kaito bends down to grab his own helmet—

And accidentally kicks the wooden block holding the wagon in place.

> KAITO (freezing)  

> “…Oh no.”

The wagon jerks forward.

> SHUICHI  

> “Wait—WAIT—KAITO?!”

Gravity takes over. The wagon begins its descent.

> KAITO (chasing after it)  

> “SHUICHI, ENGAGE THE BRAKES—NO WAIT, THERE AREN’T ANY!”

> SHUICHI (screaming)  

> “WHYYYYYY WOULD YOU BUILD IT THIS WAY?!”

--🎢 Scene: “Operation Confidence Boost: Extended Cut”

Starring: One reluctant detective and one very enthusiastic astronaut

---

EXT. HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY – THE BIG HILL – LATE AFTERNOON

The wagon creaks ominously as it teeters on the edge. Shuichi, helmet askew, clutches the sides like they’re the last solid things in his life.

> SHUICHI  

> “Kaito, I don’t think this is—”

KICK.  

Kaito’s foot nudges the wooden block.

> KAITO (realizing too late)  

> “Oh no.”

The wagon lurches forward. Gravity takes the wheel.

---

🎬 PHASE ONE: THE DESCENT

The wagon picks up speed. Shuichi’s scream echoes across campus.

> SHUICHI  

> “Gwaaaaaaahhhhhh—!!”

He passes a group of students on the quad.

- Himiko blinks slowly.  

  > “Nyeh… was that a detective?”

- Tenko gasps.  

  > “Shuichi! Are you okay?! KAITO, WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

- Kokichi pulls out his phone.  

  > “This is going straight to my prank compilation.”

---

🎬 PHASE TWO: OBSTACLE COURSE

The wagon barrels through:

- A flower bed (sorry, Hina).

- A laundry line, which wraps a pair of boxer briefs around Shuichi’s helmet.

- A picnic blanket, launching a sandwich into the air that lands perfectly in his lap.

> SHUICHI (panicking)  

> “Why is this happening?! Why is this sandwich warm?!”

---

🎬 PHASE THREE: THE WILDLIFE ENCOUNTER

A squirrel leaps onto the wagon. Shuichi and the squirrel lock eyes. It chitters. He screams louder.

> SHUICHI  

> “I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!”

The squirrel bails. Shuichi does not.

---

🎬 PHASE FOUR: THE RAMP OF DESTINY

The ramp looms ahead—bigger, steeper, and somehow glitter-covered.

Kaito, now halfway down the hill, cheers.

> KAITO  

> “YOU GOT THIS, SHUICHI! BELIEVE IN THE WAGON!”

> SHUICHI  

> “I BELIEVE IN BRAKES!”

Too late.

The wagon hits the ramp.

Time slows.

Shuichi soars through the air like a majestic, screaming eagle. The boxer briefs flutter like a flag of surrender.

---

🎯 PHASE FIVE: IMPACT

The wagon crashes into the inflatable star target with a WHUMP. Confetti explodes. A banner unfurls:

> “YOU DID IT, DETECTIVE!”

Shuichi lies in the wreckage, dazed, sandwich still intact.

---

🎬 EPILOGUE

Kaito jogs up, beaming.

> KAITO  

> “That was incredible! You flew like a legend!”

> SHUICHI (muffled)  

> “I think I saw the curvature of the Earth…”

> KAITO  

> “Exactly! That’s astronaut vision!”

---

🏥 Scene: “Post-Flight Debrief”

Starring: One bruised detective and one very proud astronaut

---

INT. HOPE’S PEAK NURSE’S OFFICE – EARLY EVENING

Shuichi sits on the exam table, legs swinging slightly, a bandage on his elbow and glitter still stuck in his hair. The nurse finishes applying antiseptic while muttering something about “boys and their gravity stunts.”

Kaito bursts in, galaxy helmet under one arm, grinning like he just won a trophy.

> KAITO  

> “There he is! The man of the hour!”

> SHUICHI (deadpan)  

> “I have bruises in places I didn’t know could bruise.”

> KAITO  

> “That’s just proof you lived, buddy! You flew! You landed! You sparkled!”

The nurse sighs and hands Shuichi a juice box.

> NURSE  

> “Drink this. You’re not allowed to pass out from adrenaline and poor hydration.”

Shuichi sips quietly. Kaito sits beside him, nudging his shoulder.

> KAITO  

> “So… how do you feel?”

> SHUICHI (after a beat)  

> “Terrified. Embarrassed. Slightly heroic.”

> KAITO  

> “Exactly! That’s the confidence cocktail!”

Just then, Maki walks in, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

> MAKI  

> “I heard screaming. And glitter. Explain.”

> SHUICHI  

> “It was a… motivational exercise.”

> KAITO  

> “With stellar results!”

Maki glares at both of them, then tosses a cold pack at Kaito’s chest.

> MAKI  

> “Next time, use stairs.”

---

FADE OUT as the trio sits in the Nurse’s Office—one bruised, one proud, one exasperated—but all a little closer than before.

---

Chapter Text

🏌️‍♂️ Danganronpa: Ultimate Mini-Golf Mayhem

Part 1 – “Fore-shadowing Trouble”

It all began with Kokichi barging into Shuichi’s dorm at dawn, dressed in plaid knickers and a newsboy cap.

KOKICHI  

“Detective boy! It’s tee time!”

He had Tsumugi make them matching golf outfits. The plan? A “friendly” game of miniature golf. But outside, the rain poured like a Monokuma monsoon. Worse, Keebo had just been struck by lightning and was now speaking fluent Spanish.

KEEBO  

“¡Ay caramba! ¿Dónde está mi paraguas?”

So Kokichi did the only logical thing: he and Shuichi would build a full-scale miniature golf course inside Hope’s Peak Academy.

Cue the construction montage:  

- Hole 1: The Cafeteria Canyon – Tables became cliffs, trays became launch pads.  

- Hole 2: The Stairwell Spiral – Foam padding, duct tape, and a three-story drop.  

- Hole 3: The Principal’s Panic Room – They broke in. Miss Yoshie sighed.  

- Hole 4: The Rooftop Rampage – Rainproof tunnels. Glitter. A windmill made of umbrellas.

By nightfall, the course spanned the entire school. Kokichi stood atop a desk, arms wide.

KOKICHI  

“Tomorrow… we play.”

---

🏌️‍♂️ Part 2 – “The Tournament Begins”

Hole 1: The Main Lobby – “Trophy Trouble”

Shuichi played methodically. Kokichi? He smacked the ball like it owed him money. It ricocheted off a bench, a statue, and shattered the trophy case.

MISS YOSHIE  

“I’m not even surprised anymore.”

Shuichi, not to be outdone, blindfolded himself and let Kokichi guide him. Kokichi, of course, used this power for evil.

KOKICHI  

“Hotter… colder… now swing like you’re confronting your father’s legacy!”

Shuichi’s ball smashed a vending machine. Soda sprayed. Miss Yoshie added it to the damage report.

---

☔ Meanwhile… Outside

Junko and Mukuro were locked out. Junko, soaked and furious, pointed her golf club at the sky.

JUNKO  

“Hey, rain! You better stop that!”

⚡ KRA-KOOM! ⚡

Lightning struck. Junko sparked, screamed, and exploded into a wall.

JUNKO  

“OWWW—OOF!”

She peeled off the wall and collapsed into a mud puddle.

---

🏌️‍♂️ Hole 2: The Cafeteria Canyon

Inside, the game continued. Shuichi, still blindfolded, was guided by Kokichi through a maze of pudding cups and soup bowls.

KOKICHI  

“Swing like you’re apologizing to the universe!”

The ball landed in Teruteru’s bisque. The next one? A cherry tomato that somehow scored a hole-in-one.

Outside, Junko tried to climb in through a window. Just as she reached the sill—

KOKICHI  

“Hot! HOT! RED HOT!”

Shuichi swung. The window slammed shut on Junko’s fingers.

JUNKO  

“OWWWWW! SON OF A—WOOOOAHHHHH!!”

She fell backward into the mud. Again.

---

🧊 The Fridge Incident

Later, as Junko raged through the courtyard, a fridge inexplicably burst through the second-story wall.

JUNKO  

“Oh no.”

💥 BANG! 💥

It flattened her. A yogurt cup rolled out and landed on her forehead.

JUNKO  

(weakly)  

“I saw the despair god… he was wearing Crocs…”

---

🏌️‍♂️ Final Hole: “The Unconscious Diva”

The final hole was supposed to be on the rooftop. Instead, Shuichi and Kokichi found their golf balls resting on Junko’s unconscious body—Kokichi’s on her forehead, Shuichi’s in her mouth.

She stirred. Too late.

KOKICHI & SHUICHI  

“DOUBLE SWING! TOPSPIN!”

💥 Kokichi’s ball ricocheted into the Victory Cup.  

💥 Shuichi’s popped out of her mouth and followed suit.

JUNKO  

(lying in the mud, dazed)  

“I hate this school. I hate this game. I hate everything.”

MUKURO  

“You say that every time you lose.”

---

🎓 Epilogue: Damage Control

Miss Yoshie handed Kokichi a bill the length of a scroll.

MISS YOSHIE  

“You owe the school 3,472,000 yen. And a new fridge.”

KOKICHI  

“Worth it.”

Keebo was still speaking Spanish. Tsumugi was already designing outfits for next year’s tournament. And Junko?

She was last seen muttering in the nurse’s office, hair still frizzed, plotting vengeance with a yogurt spoon.

Let's give some love to Spanish Keebo!

A more slapstick heavy chapter this time.

Chapter Text

🧠 Inside Makoto Naegi’s Mind – The Hope Hub

Setting: A cozy, slightly cluttered student lounge. Posters of motivational quotes hang crookedly. There’s a vending machine that only dispenses bottled water and melon bread. The lighting is warm, a little too bright, like a classroom that never quite turns off.

---

💭 The Insecure Part

- Wears a hoodie two sizes too big, hiding behind a stack of report cards and rejection letters.

- Constantly muttering things like “I’m just average… I shouldn’t even be here…”

- Keeps a “Worst Case Scenarios” notebook.

- Occasionally peeks out to check if anyone’s mad at him.

---

🎁 The Gift-Giver

- Surrounded by a mountain of neatly wrapped presents.

- Has a spreadsheet labeled “Who Likes What” with tabs for every classmate.

- Wears a “World’s Okayest Friend” apron.

- Keeps muttering, “I hope they like it… I hope it’s not weird… should I have gone with the mineral water instead?”

---

🌟 Inner Hope

- Glowing faintly, like a human-sized candle.

- Wears a school uniform that’s always clean, no matter what.

- Speaks calmly, with quiet conviction: “We can get through this. Together.”

- Keeps a scrapbook of everyone’s smiles. Even Byakuya’s.

---

💘 Makoto’s Crush Core

- Looks like Makoto, but with a permanent blush and a stack of dating sims hidden behind him.

- Nervously doodling hearts around Kyoko’s name in the margins of his notes.

- Occasionally daydreams about holding hands and panics immediately after.

- Motto: “I’m not saying I like her, but… I mean… she’s really cool, okay?”

---

🌀 Standard Makoto

- The one who tries to keep the others balanced.

- Wears a slightly wrinkled uniform, always adjusting his tie.

- Tries to mediate between Insecurity and Hope while hiding Crush Core’s doodles from the others.

- Keeps a whiteboard titled “How to Survive Today Without Screwing Up.”

---

BRAIN VOICEOVER  

“Hope levels: Stable. Anxiety: Elevated. Friendship Drive: 97%. Crush Containment: Failing.”

---

Of course they do. Makoto’s mindspace wouldn’t be complete without a cozy little bedroom where all his chibi selves can recharge after a long day of emotional processing and awkward optimism. Let’s peek inside:

---

🛏️ Makoto’s Mindspace – The Comfy Bedroom

Setting: A warm, softly lit room with pastel walls and motivational posters like “You’re Doing Your Best!” and “Hope Is a Blanket!” There’s a gentle hum of a white noise machine shaped like Monokuma (but it only plays calming wind sounds).

---

🧸 The Beds

- Insecure Makoto sleeps in a bed shaped like a hoodie, curled up under a blanket labeled “It’s Okay to Be Average.”

- Gift-Giver Makoto has a bunk bed with shelves full of wrapped presents. He sleeps with a checklist tucked under his pillow.

- Inner Hope Makoto floats slightly above his bed, glowing faintly, wrapped in a quilt stitched with everyone’s names.

- Crush Core Makoto has a heart-shaped pillow and a stack of romance manga hidden under the mattress. He blushes in his sleep.

- Standard Makoto sleeps in the center bed, arms folded, trying to keep the others from snoring too loud.

---

💤 Nighttime Rituals

- They all brush their teeth together in a tiny bathroom with five sinks.

- Inner Hope reads bedtime stories about triumph and friendship.

- Crush Core doodles hearts in his dream journal.

- Insecure Makoto asks if everyone still likes him.

- Gift-Giver sets out tomorrow’s presents with little sticky notes: “For Toko – maybe she’ll smile?”

---

BRAIN VOICEOVER  

“Hope levels: Resting. Anxiety: Dreaming. Crush Containment: Sleep-talking.”

---

(We hope you've enjoyed this look into Makoto’s mind.)

Chapter Text

1, 2, 3, 4!

No matter where I go, no matter what I do. I know the person I want to beeee with is youuuuu.

Every single move I make,  every single step I take. It brings me one step closer to you so, you better be ready, best be steady!

"Doki Doki!" My heart yells!  "Zuki Zuki!" When I see you! It's no mystery, we both know that it's true, that I love you!

Hold me close, and hold me tight. All day long, into the night. Let me stay in your arms awhile, it makes me smile!

(Now with rhythmic claps)

Hai, Hai, Hai, Hai-(Hai means Yes in Japanese)

Every single place I go, people tell me I'm a fool. Sometimes I don't really know what I'm supposed to doooo.

Maybe it won't work out, maybe we'll just fight and shout, but one thing I know is true:

No time for despairin, if you're too busy carin!

"Doki Doki!" My heart yells!  "Zuki Zuki!" When I see you! It's no mystery, we both know that it's true, that I love you!

(Ohhh yeah!)

Hold me close, and hold me tight. All day long, into the night. Let me stay in your arms awhile, it makes me smile!

(You know it does!)

(Kulru-che Kulru-che Kulru-che Kulru-che ×2)

"Doki Doki!" My heart sells!  "Zuki Zuki!" When I see you! It's no mystery, we both know that it's true, that I love you!

Hold me close, hold me fast! Make this love forever last, because I want it to be just you and me...for eternity!

(Continues until it fades out, to the sound of applause may I add)

Just a fun idea I had!

Don't take things so seriously, come on!

Life's a joke, and death is the punchline