Chapter Text
April 1st
Winded and choking for air, Makoto Naegi hit the ground, legs buckling beneath him. Cotton filled nose, vision blurred and spinning, a needle was digging deep into his brain, he could still feel it. His eyes were still in that room, strapped down to the table while chords and tape were plastered over scarred arms and legs, looking into mismatched eyes looming over his barely conscious form.
“Remember,” the voice whispered, close to his ear. “Remember the mission objectives, and remember what you have to do if you fail. We only have one chance, time will never play out the same way twice.”
Eyes rolling in his skull, Makoto settles on the face just behind the first and he almost smiles at the crease line worrying itself between Byakuya’s narrowed turquoise eyes. This had not been his idea, the blonde had protested against the suggestion since its conception, but he was still here… Still here to say ‘goodbye’.
Coughing, the contents of his stomach, an unknown breakfast, swelled inside of his stomach. Bent double Makoto curled his fingers over the concrete of the polished pavement beneath him.
“My name is Makoto Naegi.” He swallowed the acid. “I am—” Not 23. “—17-years-old, and this is my first day at Hope’s Peak Academy.”
He had a mission, and if he succeeded then he just might be able to save everyone.
Passers-by were glancing in his direction, their stares piercing as they grazed across his shoulders. What did they imagine a kid like him was doing, dressed in a strange school uniform and standing at the gates of the most prestigious school in the country? Perhaps they imagined him to be a desperate applicant who had been turned away, or maybe they thought him a fanatic, here to weep at the gates.
Even before Junko, there had been sycophants and adoring fans of Hope’s Peak Academy. All of Naegi’s memories of his school life were gone, but he still remembered the magazine articles, the news stories, and the pop culture that surrounded not only the school itself, but also the handpicked students that were invited to attend.
Once, Makoto had been one of those ‘lucky’ students, even if his admission had been a little unorthodox.
On wobbly knees, Makoto got heavily back to his feet. The motion made him aware of his diminished height almost immediately.
Even if he had never been a particularly tall individual, Makoto had benefited from a late growth spurt between 19 and 20, lifting him from 5’3’’ to 5’7’’, the national average, and there was humour in that thought. After all, was that not what Makoto had thought of himself when he had first stood here at the gates to the Academy? He had thought himself an ordinary and average human being in every way that mattered, a teenage boy with generic tastes, who followed trends and never stood out in a crowd.
Looking down at his 17-year-old body, Makoto was a little stunned by what he saw. His body was healthier but a lot more scrawny than the one he had left behind. Healthy meat was padded around the bones of his wrists and forearms, and when Makoto peeled back the sleeve of his hoodie he discovered fresh and unscarred skin.
His hair was longer, Makoto could feel it tickling at the back of his neck, and he drew back a hand to tug at a single brown strand.
Dressed in his old Dusk High School uniform, Makoto could not help but shudder a little. It was the same outfit he had worn when he had taken part in the Killing Game. The thought caused his stomach to give another violent lurch, only this time he was braced and able to keep his body standing upright.
Those last words that Hajime had whispered to him, Makoto had to remember that he had a mission, a mission that he could not fail under any circumstances.
It was a warm April morning, cherry blossoms flitted around the towering school walls, leaving rose-coloured pools on the ground below. His watch read ‘07:08’, he was early… he had been early, Makoto had long since forgotten the reason why.
His memory of standing before the school gates, they were the last memories he’d had before two years of his life had been stolen from him. Even if he had lived all of this once before, it would be as new to him now as it had been back then. The only difference this time was that he now knew how it was all going to end if time was simply allowed to take its course.
Taking one final breath, Makoto stepped through the open gates and walked —very carefully— the long length of the paved path — his shorter legs puzzled his brain, and more than once Makoto tripped over his own feet. White paving slabs, trees lining the walkway, all leading, all guiding him towards an intimidating oak panel door. Biting his lower lip, Makoto pushed them open to reveal the entrance hall.
Tall rustic pillars supported the ceiling, the floor large squares of tan and grey marble, two glass doors leading deeper into the building. The only decoration of note was the whiteboard balanced in one corner with notices pinned up to cover every available surface. It was just as he remembered it.
For five full minutes, Makoto did not move, he remained in that place, heart thudding in his chest as he waited for the world to blur, waiting for all of this to fade away. Any moment now he would wake up, with his head on a desk, in an abandoned classroom with sheets of thick metal bolted onto the windows. He didn’t know any different, that was the life he knew.
However, the clock struck a confident seven-fifteen, and he was still here.
“Hey there, you lost?”
Alarmed by the sudden appearance of another person, Makoto turned, head moving faster than his body resulting in a clumsy stumble. His reaction time was not aligned between body and mind, something else Makoto realised he would have to take note of.
The student who appeared was clad in the traditional brown uniform of the Academy, and it took Makoto only a few seconds to put a name to the face. The 18-year-old standing in front of him was younger, green eyes bright and curious as they gazed at Makoto, taking in his unfamiliar uniform. Nagito Komaeda, a name that would be on the lips of every terrified soul in only two short years.
“You’re a first year, aren’t you?” He laughed, glancing around at the space around them. “First day back,” he began to explain, even though Makoto hadn’t asked. “Wasn’t expecting to be here until this afternoon, but I got a call last night from the airline telling me that they were overbooked, and that I had been upgraded to first class on an earlier flight with a full refund.” The older boy grinned. “Luck, huh?”
This disconcertingly unconcerned attitude was unnerving, although Makoto couldn’t say if that was because he knew what Komaeda had become… might still become, or if it was simply in his nature.
Nagito Komaeda was the only other student that carried the title of ‘Ultimate Luck’, although from what Makoto had seen and heard it manifested very differently from his own.
“Yeah… lucky,” Makoto agreed, forcing a smile.
Komaeda wasn’t the enemy here, it took effort to remind himself of that, he was just another of Junko’s victims, an innocent with a troubled past.
“I’m a little early myself.” The memories flooded back as if they had always been there, and Makoto felt his hand move to motion vaguely in the direction of the clock on the wall. “My dad’s car got a puncture last night so I had to get the bus. If I had gotten a later one then I wouldn’t have been here in time for the entrance ceremony.”
This answer only made Komaeda smile more broadly. “What did you say your name was?”
“Naegi… Makoto Naegi.” Realising that he had not been given Komada’s name and it would seem rude not to ask, Makoto followed his answer up with a question. “And you are?”
“Nagito Komaeda, class 77-B. That puts me in the year above you.” It was a statement rather than a question. “It was very nice to meet you Naegi, just be sure to ask me or anyone else if you need a hand settling in.” He smiled again, green eyes flashing in a way that could have been interpreted as ‘playful’, before disappearing through one of the glass panel doors, heading deeper into the school.
Had that happened the first time around?
The gifts of Komada and himself were based on luck, and Makoto’s own brand of luck always had a purpose, every path, no matter how turbulent or cruel, always took him to the place he needed to be when it truly mattered. But his purpose had shifted, he was no longer an awkward teenager suffering from imposter’s syndrome on his first day of a brand new school. Did that mean his luck was already moving and changing the world around him?
Filing the thought away for now, Makoto used the map pinned to the whiteboard to find his way to the main hall.
As it transpired, the school’s layout was not so very different from the version he remembered. There were extra buildings, and the dorms were not located on the ground floor the way they had been during the Killing Game. Makoto found them on the map, tracing his finger over the path along the green to a small collection of circular buildings that were marked as the school dorms.
The gym however, was right where Makoto expected it to be.
Retracing the familiar route with ease, Makoto paused here and there to marvel at how ordinary the academy looked now.
In his memories there had always been an eerie colouration to the lights, making everything appear dark and surreal. But now, they were lit by simple white lights that reflected off the ordinary tiled floor and wood panelled walls.
He had to force himself to walk past the golden sword stored away in the trophy cabinet without looking at it.
Another deserted space, an odd contrast to his memory of a gym filled with people waiting for him to arrive. Who had been the first to arrive during the Killing Game? Had it been Taka? Toko? Perhaps Hina or Sakura? He had never actually asked.
With time on his hands, Makoto sat himself down on one of the waiting chairs, facing the stage where he still expected a demonic monochrome bear to make a sudden appearance. He ran over everything in his head one more time.
He had one year to change the future. One year to prevent Junko Enoshima from bringing about The Worst, Most Despair Inducing Incident in the history of mankind. When he wasn’t arguing with them about the plan in general, Byakuya had suggested that they simply kill Junko outright, to which Kyoko had snapped that it wasn’t as simple as that.
You couldn’t beat despair with something as horrific as murder. “You would only be playing into her hands,” was Kyoko’s lesson to them all.
No. Junko had to fail, and it was Makoto’s job to bring that to fruition.
First, he had to save Hajime Hinata.
Second, he had to stop her from organising the first Killing game with the student council.
And third, he had to prevent Junko from infecting class 77-B.
The first task would be the most difficult. Makoto had not started at Hope’s Peak until after the Izuru Kamukura project had started. The Hajime of the future had told him as much as he could recall about that time, although he had confessed to being at a loss as to what Makoto could do to stop him.
“Better to kill me,” were Hinata’s words the night before ‘The Regeneration Project’ was set for launch. His tone had been sombre, eyes following the flickers of their glittering fire, the remains of ‘the final meal’ scattered across the creaky floorboards. “ You cannot reason with me, you cannot appeal to my humanity or emotions, they were stripped from me. Back then, all I knew was the value of talent. Kill me quickly, and you might just catch me off guard.”
The open hand of Akane had promptly struck him across the head.
“Shut-up! If he’s going back to save us, then he sure as fuck is saving you as well. Who else is going to invent this weird time travel machine thing again if he fails?”
With the exception of Hajime and a flustering Toko, they had all been in agreement, saving everyone meant saving everyone.
According to Hajime, Junko would get her hands on him by early June, which gave him only two months to break into the facility where Izuru Kamukura was being held.
The death of the student council would take place in July, just before they broke up for the Summer, and that would be the trigger for all that followed.
And then, in November, following the gruesome murder of one of their classmates, the class of 77-B would be corrupted with Despair.
The timeline of events had been seared into his mind.
Was all this really possible in a year?
Makoto shook his head, yes , it had to be, otherwise all of this would be for nothing, and he would have to go through the events that followed again… again… he couldn’t do it, not again… never again.
Sayaka, Chihiro, Leon, Taka, Mondo, Sakura, Hifumi, Celestia… he couldn’t watch them die a second time.
“Oh, I see I am not the first to arrive.”
Broken from his thoughts, Makoto was drawn back to the present by a voice he had not heard since… since…
He almost smiled at the thought that Kiyotake Ishimaru had arrived exactly 15 minutes before the designated arrival time, because truly, what else had Makoto been expecting?
Seeing him standing there, it was surreal, and it only occurred to Makoto after a few seconds of silent staring that the other boy looked just a little bit younger than he had been in Makoto’s memory. After all, he was only 17 here, and the Taka he remembered had been 19 (even if they hadn’t been aware of that at the time).
Of course, he still had those ridiculously bushy eyebrows, expressive red eyes, and rigid appearance. His dark hair was still cut short and orderly, features open and easy to read… However, his features were just that little bit softer, his physical build a little slighter, although Makoto did not doubt the strength of the other boy hidden behind layers of clothing.
“Makoto Naegi.” As if in a dream, he held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Heat was building behind his eyes, and the unsettled pool at the base of his stomach was stirring again.
Lying face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood, the back of his head split open. He hadn’t seen it coming. The Monopad had said that he died instantly, but how instant was instant? Had he felt a moment of pain before he passed, had there been a twitch of realisation before all life drained from his body?
Like Makoto, Taka was wearing his old school uniform, it was what they had been instructed to do in their acceptance letter.
“Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Ultimate Moral Compass.” Tilting his head inquiringly, Taka grinned. “As you are here so early, your talent must be an impressive one?” Before Makoto could get a word in edgeways, Taka began listing off a few possible guesses that ranged from ‘Ultimate Punctuality’ to ‘Ultimate Student’, before Makoto finally managed to push in with his answer.
“Ultimate Luck, or so they tell me.” The disparaging laugh felt strained, but he was unsure if Taka would notice. Even during the Killing Game no one, apart from Monokuma and Kyoko had taken any notice of his talent.
“Ultimate Luck?” Taka repeated, tilting his head to the other side thoughtfully before breaking into another grin. “Well I’m sure even things like luck require hard work.”
“You have no idea.” That slipped out before Makoto could stop himself, but the answer seemed to please Taka who was already nodding enthusiastically.
They were saved from making small talk by the arrival of a rather small girl… no, not a girl, although honestly, Makoto had forgotten just how much like a girl Chihiro had looked. He felt a little guilty thinking of Chihiro as a girl, knowing how much that fed into their insecurities, but Makoto had not known the living Chihiro as anything else, and even now, if he was to feign ignorance then he had to act as if he suspected nothing about her true sex.
“Is this the main hall?” She asked shyly, flinching a little as Taka went bounding up to the door to pull her inside.
“You must be another of our fellow first years. I am Kiyotake Ishimaru, Ultimate Moral Compass, and this is Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Luck.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly excited and eager to begin the school year, just as Makoto had imagined he would be in a real ‘school environment’.
“Oh… I am Chihiro Fujisaki, Ultimate Programmer.”
That was putting it mildly, even with the few short memories he had of Chihiro, they had been incredible, achieving feats in a matter of days that would take most professional and experienced adults years of their life. That was what a true Ultimate talent was.
Bit by bit, the other students began to filter into the main hall. Monda
“You must be another of our fellow first years. I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Ultimate Moral Compass, and this is Naegi, Ultimate Luck.” He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, clearly excited and eager to begin the school year, just as Makoto had imagined he would be in a real ‘school environment’.
“Oh… I’m Chihiro Fujisaki, Ultimate Programmer.”
Bit by bit, everyone began to filter into the main hall. Owada and Leon didn’t arrive until after the Headmaster had already started his welcoming speech, and Junko didn’t appear at all, although Makoto did take note of her sister slipping in at the back just before 08:00.
They were all here, all of them alive and naive, all except him.
The weight of that responsibility bore down upon his back, and set off dizzying pulses behind his eyes.
It was particularly daunting to see Hina, Byakuya, Kyoko, Hiro, and Toko sitting around him. They all looked so young, less tired and drained, so much more… immature. Kyoko’s cool distance and Byakuya’s indifferent arrogance were amusing to him now, but seeing those looks reminded him of how real all of this was. They were so different to the friends he had left behind.
And if he succeeded… If all went to plan, then would the friends he had simply cease to exist forever? They would never be the same people, they would never experience the same hardships and growth. It was likely in this world that they would never be his friends.
Kyoko caught him staring, her lavender eyes turning to meet his. Makoto turned away quickly, turning his gaze back to the front of the room, ribs squeezing around his heart.
Rule number one, don’t draw any unnecessary attention to yourself.
As far as his classmates knew, he was just optimistic and ordinary Makoto Naegi, a brand-new student here, just like the rest of them. That was all he would ever be to them.
“And without further ado, I welcome the 78th Class of Hope’s Peak Academy. Please, pick up your welcome packs from the table at the front. Inside you will find a key to your dorm, please do not lose this key or give it to anyone else. A list of the school rules can also be found inside, along with your fully digitalised student handbook with the details of your classmates, and your class timetable.”
Even if he had once known this man, those memories were gone. Kyoko’s father was the only stranger in this room.
With the welcoming ceremony complete, Headmaster Kirigiri dismissed them formally, declaring that lessons would begin as normal starting tomorrow, and he advised that they were not late for homeroom.
Nobody made any attempt to mingle as the students rose as a wall to pick up their welcome packs, and there was silence during the awkward walk from here to the doors of the gymnasium.
Taka was firing daggers at Mondo and Leon’s hair, and Makoto assumed that the only reason he wasn’t shouting at them right now for the inappropriate styles and colour was down to first day nerves.
“I think the way out is here.” Hina, an awkward smile on her face, pointed shyly towards a hallway marked on their maps that led to the outer courtyard where the green would be accessible. She was the first of them to address the group, and she was also the second, only a short while later. “I thought there were supposed to be… I mean… Has anyone else noticed that we’re missing someone?”
She had her student handbook open and was looking down the list of faces, comparing them to the boys and girls in their group. “Junko Enoshima? Hey! I know that name…”
Summoned by her name, as if she had been waiting for the opportune time to appear, Junko Enoshima dropped down from a wall, landing with precision and grace that made her worthy of her secondary title, Ultimate Fashionista.
“What’s up losers, I was wondering when you’d all get here.” Sharp and energetic, Junko’s confident grin was enough to put most at ease in her presence. “Is that for me?” She snatched a second welcome pack from her sister’s hands. “Junko Enoshima by the way, Ultimate Fashionisa, in case you didn’t know.” She laughed, the sound false but infectious. “But of course you know, whatever.”
Her blue eyes traced their faces, everyone had come to a stop in front of her. It was a predatory gaze that only just passed for friendly. Makoto's stomach tensed dangerously, and he was suddenly eased by the urge to do something impulsive and drastic. He wanted to kill her. It wasn’t the way he had expected to feel at this moment, but the urge was overwhelming. If he killed her now, if he could put an end to the monster responsible for the deaths of so many people then that would be a good thing, it had to be a good thing.
“It is a pleasure to meet you Enoshima.” Sayaka, her face gentle and smile genuine, stepped forward. “We didn’t see you at the welcoming ceremony?”
With no transition, Junko’s expression fell, her body closing inwards as she broke eye contact. “Oh… well, I didn’t attend because it just seemed so boring.” Her tone was now dull, all the energy she had previously been displaying gone without a trace.
So, she had always been like this, even when they were at school together, Makoto had not expected that.
The expression change was enough to throw off the others, and Sayaka now looked hesitant, even if she did manage to refresh her smile with a new one. “I’m a real fan of yours, your make-up tutorials have saved me more times than I can count.”
Seeing the two of them interact made Makato feel sick.
“Really?” The depressed demeanour gone, Junko was now blinking wide-eyed at Sayaka, flushing like an embarrassed child. Makoto was not sure how much more of this he could take.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to say anything, as Sakura, who looked only marginally less powerful than she had done when Makoto had known her, took a step forward. “It has been a long journey, so I hope that you will all excuse me, but I would like to get some rest.” She dipped her head politely and took another step towards the dorm buildings, but not before Taka had found his voice again.
“Yes! We should all get ourselves settled. There will be time for introductions later.”
As a group they moved now with a little less tension in their shoulders, Junko hanging off Sayaka’s arm like they had been best friends since childhood.
Three dorm buildings came into sight, each an identical and modern design, green grass growing on the roof that slanted back against the hillside imprinted on the scenery behind them. They were each two-stories high, although the central building was marginally bigger than the others that bordered it.
Their little group was marked down for the first building.
Sakura, still in the lead, scanned her key against the electronic pad, and the glass doors slid open.
Wall length windows made up the walls of the main living area, an open plan with a study space, kitchenette, dining table, and a few chairs and soft bean bags settled at the far side. To the left were the girls, and to the right were the boys.
Stretching out her back, Sakura walked left.
“Absolutely unacceptable!” Taka’s voice was deafening, and it was enough to make even Sakura stop in her tracks. “The rules clearly state that girls may not enter the boys’ hall, and that boys must not enter the girls’!” He was brandishing the sheet of paper with the school rules on like a weapon.
Sakura, unfazed, turned back to him. “I am a girl.”
Déjavu, Taka was already apologising, reduced to a flustering heap of stammering.
“Perhaps we all need some rest,” Sayaka suggested diplomatically, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Byakuya and Kyoko had already left to find their rooms. “It says lunch will be held in the cafeteria at 12:30, perhaps we could all meet up here and walk there together?”
Sayaka… Was it any wonder than Makoto had once had a crush on her?
She was the sort of girl that any ordinary boy could not help but develop feelings for. She was tall and beautiful in every way that little boys and girls were taught. Even back in Middle School, where the two of them had first met, Sayaka had been working as an idol, working hard to further her career and bring joy to her fans.
Perhaps it was too much to assume that they had been friends, but… Sayaka had recognised him before, would she recognise him again?
Only a few voiced their support for Sayaka’s idea, and Makoto imagined that only a few would actually be here at the suggested time with a willingness to walk across the green for lunch. Everyone was beginning to turn in the direction of their rooms, some trailing up the small and open spiralling staircases leading up to the next floor, others simply walked along the ground floor hall.
Makoto waited until only Chihiro and he were left.
Realising this, Makoto gave the effeminate looking Programmer a quick smile and turned around quickly to find his own room, realising that she wouldn’t want anybody to see which direction she headed, once they were all shut away in their own rooms.
How would she manage to keep her secret? It couldn’t be easy with a set up like this? Had no one thought to make accommodations?
He knew it was hard for her, but it also wasn’t his job to push them, or give any indication that he knew anything regarding their secret. It was her business, and nobody else’s until she chose to tell them.
Finding his own door, Makoto unlocked it apprehensively, before pushing it open to peer inside.
It was very different to the room he had lived in during the Killing game. It was plain and moderately sized, with a tiny ensuite attached. His luggage had been organised in the centre of the room, ready for him to unpack.
Overcome, and now in the safety of his own room, Makoto bolted to the ensuite and threw up everything in his stomach into the clean toilet bowl.
He shuddered, sweaty palms braced against the rim.
They were ghosts, spectres of the people he had once known. Their trauma was his, and his alone.
Retching again, Makoto’s spine heaved with the effort, breath hot against dry lips.
Sayaka was slumped against the shower wall, legs folded inwards where they had atrophied, arms limp at her sides. Unlike Taka, she had not died instantly, she had been alive long enough to write her killer’s name, each breath excruciatingly painful as she inched closer to the darkness of death. A knife protruded from her stomach, the visible blade coated in thick red that leaked down the white of her school uniform.
It had been his first taste of death, their first taste of death. Sayaka was the first of their number to die, the first to fall victim to the cruel game orchestrated by Junko Enoshima.
Still shuddering, Makoto forced himself to stand, spitting the last of the vomit from his mouth into the sink.
From the little mirror, his reflection stared back, pale faced, eyes twisted into something darker and deeper than his 17 year old self should have been able to wear.
Running the cold tap, Makoto cleaned his face and the sink, leaning across with one hand to flush away the mess he had made down the toilet.
One breath and then another.
With little else to do before lunch, Makoto unpacked, finding his toothbrush first to freshen up his mouth before moving onto other things.
Occasionally he paused to marvel at his old treasures, items long since lost, things that he had brought with him that seemed so important at this age. His handheld console, several games, another of his favourite hoodies, and a bracelet his sister had made for him before he left.
He also discovered four sets of the Hope’s Peak uniform stored in the cupboard, made for his side. He had been wondering where they were going to get that from. However, he assumed that it didn’t matter much if they chose not to wear it today.
Finishing his unpacking an hour before Sayaka’s suggested meeting time, Makoto picked doubt one of the old video games he could not remember completing and spent the rest of his free time working his way through the opening gameplay. Reaching his first proper save point, Makoto checked his watch and realised that it was time to go.
Sayaka was waiting, and so were Hina, Chihiro, Taka, and Sakura. However, it didn’t look like anyone else was going to walk over with them, a fact further illustrated when Toko stalked past them with a disgusted sneer, followed by Mondo who kicked the edge of the door on his way out, that act sent Taka into a flurry and he immediately left the group to sprint after Mondo, red faced and furious.
In the end there were only five of them.
They passed by Taka and Mondo on the way, engaged in a heated and angry argument. Taka was criticising everything from Mondo’s pompadour to his general demeanour and dress. The Ultimate Moral Compass was already wearing his new school uniform, while Mondo looked like he hadn’t even bothered to turn up in his old one.
“Should we… say something?” Hina paused, hesitantly.
“I think it is best to allow the two of them to sort it out between them.” Sakura, as wise as Makoto remembered her, placed a gentle but firm hand on Hina’s shoulder and led her down the path in the direction of the smallest school building, Chihiro trailing along behind them, with the occasional glance back at her two shouting classmates.
The cafeteria was not in the main building, but rather another that, according to the map, also housed the school shop, nurse’s office, and tech support.
“Naegi?”
He turned, surprised to find that he was now alone with Sayaka, and she looked nervous, hands fiddling with her long hair distractedly. “I… I don’t know if you remember me but…”
“Sayaka Maizono.” He smiled, remembering a time when she had been the most familiar face to him. “We went to Sixth Black Root Middle School together.”
She did still recognise him.
Looking relieved to hear him say that she clapped her hands together and smiled. “I didn’t think you would remember me.”
Honestly, it was still amazing to Makoto that she remembered him at all. He had been just as ordinary back then as he was now. The Makoto Naegi who would help lead The Future Foundation shouldn’t exist in this world. But Sayaka had always been popular, boys she had never even met were in love with her, and girls she had never interacted with worshipped the ground she walked on.
He asked after her group, something that Sayaka was ecstatic to tell him about, and so, Makoto listened patiently as they walked.
When he had first met her during the Killing Game, that crush he had nurtured for her since Middle School had still been there, and it was odd now to find that, looking at her now, he felt a warm fondness but nothing deeper. No doubt the original Makoto had been a flustered mess when he had first laid eyes on her again at the opening ceremony.
The cafeteria was not exclusive to the first years, and it already seemed to be occupied by a great number of second and third years, several of which Makoto recognised from Hajmine’s group. He had met all of them before, each in turn…
There was only one amongst the number that he had never truly interacted with, a pretty blonde with her gaming hoodie pulled up over her head and a console balanced beneath the table on her lap, Chiaki Namami.
Classmates were gathered around her, bees to a flower, watching her game with invested interest.
A tall and narrow figure passed in front of his view, and Makoto looked up to meet the furious eyes of Byakuya Togami.
“Naegi was it?” He looked fierce, pressing on before Makoto had a chance to reply, and not a moment to process why he had been confronted. “You should know that I consider most people to be below me, even amongst the students of Hope’s Peak.” Nothing about his posture changed, but Makoto could have sworn that his glare intensified behind his glasses. “You, an ordinary high schooler who got into this Academy on sheer luck I consider to be below my very acknowledgement⎯” And yet here he was being acknowledged. “⎯You’d do well to remember your place.”
With that rather baffling piece said, he spun on his heel and went, with tray in hand to sit alone at one of the empty tables to eat his lunch.
This mission relied on him being able to predict the people around him, the ability to predict how they would behave?
But what could have provoked that reaction from Byakuya?
Makoto swallowed, distantly aware that Sayaka was trying to comfort him.
Byakuya and Kyoko… it had not occurred to him before that his greatest allies might also be potential obstacles to their success.