"It sounds absurd, yet the odds are disturbingly high."
Alone in the locker room, Kyoko Kirigiri sifts through the avalanche of new intel, trying to coax order out of chaos.
Most of what he told her borders on fantasy, but the more she turns it over, the more the pieces click.
The claim that all seventeen members of Class 78 have lost their memories of Hope's Peak is hard to swallow—except she herself only just remembered her own talent. Plausible.
The mastermind theory is no different. Junko Enoshima—or, by his account, that girl calling herself Mukuro Ikusaba—radiates red flags.
In the magazines, "Junko" looks nothing like the girl on campus. She blames Photoshop, but what if it isn't retouching at all—what if it's another person entirely?
Her behavior has grown suspicious, too: insisting everyone watch the motive DVDs, encouraging the panicked students to dissect the images together. Who volunteers to relive a nightmare unless she knows her own disc is blank?
If she really is the mastermind, then, as K proposed, the second mastermind is probably the persona she's acting—"Junko Enoshima" itself.
The outside-world story is just as grim yet convincing. A mass hostage crisis in downtown Tokyo and zero outside interference? Neon-sign suspicious.
If the world has collapsed, the silence makes dreadful sense.
But accurate or not, can she trust K, the self-proclaimed Ultimate Counselor?
Until a few days ago she considered him dangerous, if not mastermind material. Close observation, however, revealed nothing but ludicrous friendliness—he befriends anyone in minutes.
Today he visibly broke watching the motive video. The children on screen seemed to be friends of his pre-enrollment; could someone that adored inspire such loyalty if he were truly twisted?
Shorn of his usual air-headed grin, he switched to deadly earnestness. Unless he's the grandmaster of method acting, he's simply kind.
Besides, someone that transparent could never maintain a perfect act. If he could, he'd be the Ultimate Actor, not the Ultimate Counselor.
He counsels classmates, volunteers for night guard, spots the danger in the motive videos and persuades everyone to stay calm—running himself ragged to stop a murder before it starts.
That diligence, plus the lightning-fast judgment he showed when panic struck today, practically makes him the group's axis.
Therefore Kyoko decides—for now—to trust him. He wants the Killing Game smashed, he holds crucial info; an alliance could be the key to toppling the mastermind.
Yet several riddles remain.
Most of their conversation rang true, but one moment pinged her intuition.
When he said, "My memories of the last two years are intact," his clenched fist loosened, his voice quavered, and his eyes slid away. Likely a lie.
If that was false, how does he know all of this?
And how did he deduce that she'd forgotten her own talent? She only told him she wouldn't reveal it, never that the memory itself was gone.
Back at introductions, why did he look at her with such aching nostalgia? The stare branded itself into her mind.
Strangest of all, ever since recovering her title as Ultimate Detective, she feels a flicker of that same emotion whenever she looks at him.
Seeking a label for the indefinable feeling, Kyoko soaks in the tub and churns through theories—but no answer surfaces.
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.
Leaving the bathroom, she finds Monokuma waiting. What fresh nonsense now?
"Hey, hey! What were you two doing in there?"
She ignores the bouncing bear and heads for her dorm. He blocks the hall, babbling on.
"Oho? Secrets? Unfair! I demand an exclusive interview—"
"Interview denied."
"Dodging me like that… don't tell me you two were getting steamy—"
"Where do you even get these ideas…"
"Well, you went in first, Kirigiri followed, and a few minutes later you staggered out drenched in cold sweat, soooo—"
The sweat was just nerves; talking to my favorite character is stressful, okay? Quit fantasizing!
"We only bumped into each other on the way to a bath, chatted, and I let her go first. End of story."
"Hmph… if you say so. Anyway, congrats on graduating from virginity!"
"Get out of my sight."
If violence against the headmaster weren't banned, I'd have punted that smug face. Monokuma cackles—Puhuhu—then vanishes on "urgent business."
I'm grateful Enoshima can't pilot the bear and spy on me simultaneously. Heading for my room, I stop dead.
If she rushed off, something must require direct surveillance… but what?
A blue-haired idol flashes through my mind.
"Oh, crap—Sayaka Maizono."
Sure, her psyche's cracked enough for murder, but Naegi should be comforting her—wait. I sent everyone straight to their rooms.
Right. In the game she bolts from the AV room, Naegi chases, comfort follows. This time I blocked the dash, so Naegi never had reason to play therapist.
"Uh-oh. This is bad."
Deprived of Naegi's reassurance and blocked from killing by our night watch, Maizono might do anything.
First priority: find her and talk her down.
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.
Sayaka Maizono stared, hollow-eyed, at the motive video Monokuma had shown her.
On screen shone the idol group that was her life, her everything.
–The nation's sweetheart group led by the Ultimate Idol, Sayaka Maizono! Spotlights suit them perfectly. But…
The concert clip suddenly bled crimson. The stage lay in ruin, every member but Maizono collapsed.
–Unbelievable! Japan's number-one idol group… has disbanded!
Seeing her friends—partners through laughter and tears—strewn like dolls made her head spin and her lungs seize.
–Their days in the limelight are over. No more singing, no more stardust.
Feeling her dream shatter in real time, Maizono trembled. Malice seemed to target her alone. Her mouth dried; she gagged.
–In short, Sayaka Maizono now has nowhere to go back to!
With that verdict, sanity snapped. Despair flooded in. The Monokuma in the video whispered sweetly.
–Now, here's the question: Why did the nation's idol darlings break up!?
"Answer revealed… after graduation!" flashed the final card, and the screen went black.
Maizono murmured unconsciously.
"Graduate… If I graduate… I'll learn the truth… All I have to do is graduate…"
Her voice was eerily calm. Then a boy spoke.
"We probably all saw something similar. It's natural to be shaken. Let's rest and clear our heads before we talk, okay?"
Watching him offer such levelheaded advice ignited fury. Her dream, her life, had been stamped out—how dare he say "calm down" as if he understands!
She nearly screamed at him, but the others nodded weakly and drifted away, reeling her anger back.
They must have watched equally cruel videos… What am I doing…?
Trying to steady herself, she found the world tilting, spinning.
Instinctively she looked for Naegi, but he had already retreated to his room, shaken by his own footage.
Alone, Maizono staggered down the hall. When her mind surfaced again, she was in the kitchen, rummaging.
At last she found it—a gleaming kitchen knife—and laughed, vacant.
Knife in hand, she returned to her dorm, muttering on repeat.
"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"
What crime deserved this nightmare? She only wanted to sing, be happy, grow closer to that boy—maybe even—
Why had fate thrown her into such cruelty?
No answer came. Staring at the knife clenched so tight her hand cramped, she began plotting. Then—
Ding dong, bing bong!
"Maizono? I'd like to talk for a minute…"
–Creak.
"Huh? The door's open. Maizono? You in here?"
He stepped inside.
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When Maizono ran off in the game, her first hiding spot was an empty classroom. I searched that and every likely corner—nothing. Only one place left: her dorm.
Standing at her door, I rang the intercom. Silence. I tried the knob—it turned.
Slipping inside, I called her name. Nothing. Maybe she isn't—
I scanned the room—and locked eyes with Sayaka Maizono, crouched in the corner, white-knuckling a knife.
Oh, hell.