In my hand, I hold a piece of paper. One that carries in its writing all of my hope and all of my despair. Thoughts and feelings that I’ve been suppressing in the month since we escaped Hope’s Peak are coming back to the surface of my mind. The moment I picked up the sheet, she became the dominant force in my thoughts once again. I have to do something about her.

I have to tell him about this.

I navigate to our floor’s lounge. Inside, I find Makoto and a handful of our classmates sitting in chairs, having a conversation. The Foundation has provided us good accommodations, the best we could hope for given the state of the world. I’m fortunate that the others vouched for me by insisting that I be allowed to join them here. That makes what I’m about to do all the more problematic.

“Makoto. Everyone. I need to show you something,” I announce.

They all stop and look over. I sense the mood shift when they see me; most of them haven’t quite gotten used to me. They’re uncomfortable, and I don’t blame them. There is one exception.

“What is it, Mukuro?” Makoto asks.

“Take a look at this,” I say.

I hand him the piece of paper and he scans it. “It has a pair of numbers,” he observes. “Two long decimal numbers, and a drawing. Is that a building?”

I nod. The drawing is flat but detailed, showing a carefully shaped and ornate house. The way it’s drawn matches one of her preferred styles.

“What do the numbers mean?” he asks.

“Let me see,” says Kyoko Kirigiri, taking the paper from him. After a few seconds, she hums in understanding. “These are coordinates,” she explains. “Latitude and longitude.”

“That’s right,” I say. “This note describes a location, and the picture is of something I’m supposed to find at that location.”

Sakura Ogami frowns. “Who sent you this note?” she asks.

“The answer to that is on the other side,” I say.

Kyoko turns the paper over and reads the message. “It says, ‘To my most disappointing student: You need a lesson in despair! I’ve scheduled a tutoring session for you, but you’ll need to take a little field trip to reach it. Come and find me, and I’ll make you a straight-A student in no time. Puhuhu!’” She looks up at me. “Well, that almost seems too obvious.”

“It sounds like it came from the mastermind!” says Aoi Asahina.

“It’s Junko,” I clarify. “She’s telling me where to find her.”

“But how do you know it came from her?” asks Celeste. “Anyone could have fabricated a message like that. I think you believe this note far too easily.”

“I recognize the drawing,” I explain. “It’s a building I remember from childhood. Junko would know it, and she’d know that I know it. I don’t know of anyone else who would think to show me that drawing.”

It’s been a long time since I thought about that place. But thinking about it now, it makes sense that that’s where she would go back to. If the others are skeptical of this evidence, they don’t say so. They all believe me easily enough.

“How did you get this note?” Kyoko asks with deadly seriousness.

“It was slid under my door while I was asleep,” I recall. “I found it when I woke up.”

At this, looks are exchanged. This is bad news to them. To me, it was unexpected, but unsurprising.

“If it really is from Junko Enoshima, that has some troubling implications,” Kyoko says.

“I know,” I respond, “but we’ll be able to deal with those in time. Right now, I need to leave as soon as possible.”

Aoi stands up. “Don’t tell us you’re actually gonna go there!” she protests.

“It is very likely to be a trap,” Celeste comments. “You would be playing right into Junko’s hands, there is no doubt about it.” She idly sips her tea, acting disinterested in the conversation, but participating anyway.

“Even so,” I say, “I can’t just ignore this. I have to go after her.”

“What do you plan to do once you find her?” Sakura asks.

“I’m going to bring her back. Once she’s been captured, she won’t be able to hurt anyone.”

“Why are you so desperate to bring her here?” Aoi asks confrontationally. “She tried to kill you, remember? Like, several times!” She’s getting on my nerves.

“She’s still my sister,” I reply, making no effort to hide my annoyance. “She’s my responsibility. I don’t like not knowing where she is, or what she might be doing. If she’s here, I know she’s safe. And we’ll all know that she’s not doing any harm. You should all be on board with this.”

Aoi has no immediate rebuttal, but I can tell she’s trying to think of one. When she can’t, she crosses her arms and looks away.

Makoto stands up. “Alright,” he says with a confident smile. “In that case, let us come with you. Together, we’ll have no problem catching Junko!”

“No!” I shout. Makoto flinches, and I immediately regret being so harsh. “No,” I continue, “I can’t bring anyone with me. Alone, I can move safe and undetected through the outside world. But I can’t keep an entire group safe by myself, and we’d be certain to draw attention together. Not to mention, the Foundation definitely wouldn’t be happy with all of you going outside.”

“Ah, yes, the Foundation,” Celeste says. “Have you thought about how you will get them to approve your little escapade?

“I won’t,” I say. She giggles. Does she find something amusing?

“Hold on. Hold on!” Aoi says, getting angry. “Are you serious? You’re just going to sneak outside, walk miles through the deadly, broken outside world, to find your psychotic sister—who’s probably just waiting to spring some kind of trap on you—and hope you can convince her to come back here?”

“Of course not,” I say. “I’m going to bring her back by force.”

“That’s crazy!” she objects.

“Mukuro,” Makoto says, “I know that she’s important to you, but I don’t think you should do something so risky—”

“Let her go,” Sakura says. Everyone looks at her in surprise.

“Sakura?” Aoi says.

Sakura doesn’t take her eyes off of me. “Mukuro Ikusaba is a warrior. We need not be concerned for her safety. Nor is it our place to tell her not to seek out her sister. This is a matter of family. If Mukuro is our friend, we must support her in this.”

I wasn’t expecting Sakura to step up for me. It seems that her words have had an effect on the others; everyone looks deep in thought. After a moment, Makoto breaks the silence.

“Alright,” he says. “If this is what you need to do, Mukuro, then you should do it.”

I relax. With Makoto’s approval, I feel a lot better about this. “Thank you,” I say. “Once I’m gone, I want all of you to cover for me with the Foundation; explain what I’m doing, and make sure they don’t try anything when we get back.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Makoto says.

“In that case, I’ll get my things ready. I can leave within a few minutes.”

“Hey, Mukuro,” Makoto says, “one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Take care of yourself, okay? Make sure you get back here alive.”

I can’t help but smile, hearing him so concerned for me. “Of course, Makoto. I promise.”

After a two-day journey, I arrive at my destination: a small house on what used to be private property. Now it stands abandoned, in disuse and disrepair. However, I have reason to believe that someone is in here. I walk across the front yard and up to the door. I notice an intercom attached to the wall on the right side. I press the button and speak.

“Is anyone here?”

It takes only a second for a familiar, sinister voice to respond.

“Yes, yes! Hello, my pupil. I’m so glad you could make it!” Monokuma says through the speaker. “Before I let you in, I have to ask: are you carrying any weapons?”

“No,” I lie.

“I see. Please drop your knife on the ground.”

I look around. Is there a camera somewhere? How does she know I have a knife? The only way forward is to do as she says, so I take out my survival knife and drop it to the floor.

“Done,” I say.

“Very good! Now, please, do come in, and come down to my classroom.”

I hear the door unlock. “Down?” I ask. I receive only silence as my answer.

I grab the door handle and pause for a moment. What I’m about to do is very dangerous. I’m unarmed and facing an unpredictable enemy. This is my last chance to turn back. I already know, though, that I can’t do that. Even if it’s not the “smart” decision, I have to go after Junko. I have to take her back to the Future Foundation. That’s the only way I can keep my promise. I’m going to show her the hope that will bring her despair. We’ll finally be together again. I take a deep breath and open the door.

I step inside and look around. It’s a familiar but now empty room, dimly lit by natural evening light coming through the windows. Markings on the wall draw my attention to one particular hallway. I look down that hallway and see a new addition: an elevator. Now I understand. Junko’s created some kind of basement, and that’s where I’m supposed to go.

I walk down the hallway towards the elevator. Observing my surroundings, I notice several wires running along the wall and into the floor in various places. Listening closely, I can hear the faint hum of a generator. Junko has managed to bring electricity to this place. What’s the purpose? Why did she do all of this?

I suppose I’ll find the answer soon enough. I press a button to open the elevator doors, and step inside. The interior is plain, grey, and dimly lit. There are only two buttons on the inside: one labeled with an up arrow, and one with a down arrow. I press the down button, and the elevator doors slide shut.

As elevator descends, music plays through a speaker. It’s a song I remember from a long time ago, rearranged as light, upbeat elevator music. The stark contrast between the memories associated with that song and the musical style of this rendition is unsettling. I suppose that’s the effect she was going for.

“You always add the strangest little things,” I mutter. The elevator comes to a stop. I take a deep breath and brace myself.

The doors slide open on their own. Behind them is a dark room. I have no idea what I’m going to find in there, but I’m not afraid. All I’m worried about is finding Junko.

I step into the room, looking left and right. The room is too dark, so I can’t make out any details. I’ve taken five steps in when I’m suddenly knocked to the ground. Something fell on me. No, someone fell on me. I struggle.

I’m far stronger than she is, but she has position and leverage. Before I can break free of her mount, I feel something being attached to my right wrist. It’s cool and metallic. Is it a bracelet? As I try to figure it out, I feel a sharp pain in my skin under the object, as if I’ve been pricked with a needle. I need to figure out what’s going on, quickly.

With enough pushing and kicking, I’m able to get free from my attacker’s hold. By the time I return to standing upright, the doors have shut behind me. I hear sounds of gears turning and metal sliding. The doorway is locking and securing itself, leaving me trapped in darkness. When the noises stop, a single light comes on. A bulb hanging from the ceiling sheds more than enough light for me to see her at last.

“Glad you made it, sis!” Junko says casually. “I figured you’d come crawling to me sooner or later.”

It’s good to see her, but I can’t waste any time.

“I’m not here to chat,” I explain. “I’m going to bring you back with me.”

Junko sighs. “It’s always a mission with you. Must do this, must do that. You’re never any fun at all.” She smirks. “But maybe we can change that.”

“What are you planning?” I ask.

She giggles. “You’ll see. First, come and sit with me.” She walks toward a table directly under the light and gestures for me to follow her. I follow without protest. We sit across from each other with a clean surface between us.

I ask the most pressing question. “Did you poison me?”

Junko looks amused. “Gee, sis, I haven’t seen you in a month and that’s the first thing you want to talk about? Some family. No, you haven’t been poisoned. That needle was just a little trick; I wanted to see the look on your face when you thought your life was in danger.” She pouts. “And I have to say, I’m disappointed as always. You’re not even a little scared of death, are you?”

I experience fear like any other human. My talent requires that I keep that fear hidden and not let it inhibit me, so I’ve made a habit of staying cool under pressure. Junko already knows that. I ignore her question and ask another of my own.

“What’s this bracelet?” I ask. “What’s it for?” I take a close look at it for the first time. It’s a band attached to a gray piece of metal that has no special features except for a small red light that blinks repeatedly, a bit more frequently than once a second.

“Why yes, Mukuro, I’ve had a lovely time, thanks for asking! As you can see, I’ve decorated. I’m thinking about getting some plants. How do you feel about cacti?”

“Junko.”

“Alright, fine! I’ll tell you! So much for quality time between sisters.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk after we leave here.”

Junko flashes a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” She holds up her right wrist to show me the same type of bracelet that I’m wearing. “This is a heart rate monitor. It’s going to keep track of your pulse. Every blink matches a heartbeat. We have a matching pair. It’s like we’re twins or something! Cool, huh?”

I remain silent. Seeing that she won’t get a response from me, Junko continues.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘Why did you put these stupid monitors on us? What’s the point?’ Well, I’ll tell you that too. As you can see, this room has only one exit. While both of us have a heart rate higher than zero, that exit will not open.”

That gets my attention. I immediately stand from the table and walk over to the metal doors. I look around for a button or some mechanism to open them, but I find none. I try pushing, pulling, and hitting; as expected, there’s no effect. Junko’s right. I have no way to open the exit. If what she said is true—that the only way the doors open is one of us dying—this is really bad.

“Get back here, dumbass! I’m not done explaining this shit. I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. The door’s not gonna open, so don’t worry about it for now.”

I don’t have a choice. I sit back down across from Junko. I try removing the bracelet, but there’s no way to get it off. It’s sealed itself onto me.

“How dumb are you?” Junko asks. “Did you seriously think you’d just be able to take it off and walk out? I wouldn’t leave such an obvious way for you to escape. No, sis, if you want to get out of here, you have to play a game with me.”

I make a conscious effort to keep my breathing even. “What game?” I ask.

“Well, it’s kind of like—” she pulls out a revolver and places it on the table. “—Russian Roulette! But the rules are a bit different.”

I really don’t like where this is going.

“Different how?” I ask. I try to ignore the feeling of my heartbeat accelerating. I’m sure Junko enjoys seeing the light on my bracelet blink noticeably faster.

“Well,” she says, “like Russian Roulette, the game ends when someone dies. However, the players get a few more choices. In this game, the revolver starts empty. When it’s your turn, you decide how many bullets to put in before you spin.” As she says this, she places six rounds on the table next to the gun. “You can only put bullets in, though. You can’t take any out.”

“I think I understand,” I say. “You have to consider how much of a risk you’re willing to take to make your opponent bear the same risk.”

“Puhuhuhu! Did someone say bear?” Junko says, suddenly producing a stuffed Monokuma and holding it in front of her face. “You’re mostly right, my pupil! The game is about taking risks to give risks to your opponent. However, what you don’t yet understand is the nature of that risk!”

The nature of the risk? It’s Russian Roulette. It’s a revolver. The risk is obviously death, right?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Junko says, putting Monokuma down and speaking in one of her normal voices. “What kind of risk am I creating by loading a gun with bullets? It is a difficult question. But don’t worry, you’ll understand when I explain the last part of the rules.”

I say nothing and wait for her to continue.

“On your turn, you can only pull the trigger once. After that, if the game isn’t over, you give the gun to your opponent and it’s their turn. When you pull the trigger, you have to be pointing the gun at yourself… or at your opponent! Pretty fun rule, huh?”

“Wait, what?” I say, taken aback. “That doesn’t make any sense. If you can shoot your opponent, the game’s not fair at all!”

“Nah, it’s totally fair,” Junko assures me. “Because as the oldest player, you get to go first, Mukuro! Here, take it!” She picks up the revolver and holds it out to me.

I stare at it. What is Junko thinking? She’s practically asking me to kill her, literally handing me the gun to use.

“Why?” I ask. “Why are you doing this?”

“Are you for real?” Junko demands. “You of all people should know how many times I’ve heard that stupid question, and you should know what the answer is. I know I didn’t wipe any of your memories, so you have no excuse for asking that.”

Right. Of course. Despair. I have to admit, she’s created a perfect situation for it. Two sisters locked in a room, knowing that one has to die for the other to be saved. I’m sure she’s reveling in how despair-filled this situation is.

“Hurry up and take it!” she yells. “My arm’s getting tired. Not everyone does a million push-ups a day, you know!”

Reluctantly, I take the revolver.

“What if I refuse to play?” I ask. It’s a simple enough solution: don’t take my turn, and stall until I can find a way out of here. I could knock Junko out easily; she’s fast, but I’m faster. Then there has to be a way out. I know Junko well enough to know she always leaves one.

“Yeah, sorry sis, but that’s not an option.” Junko pulls another item from her skirt: a handgun. This one is a semi-automatic pistol instead of a revolver. “If you break any rules, or refuse to play, then I’ll just kill you. That’d be pretty boring, though, so don’t do that, okay? We can get way more despair than that. Oh, and this should be obvious, but don’t try shooting your bracelet either. Even if that would work, I’d kill you before it did any good.”

“Grr…” I vocalize my frustration automatically. She’s got me cornered. She’ll be able to shoot me before I can even get close to her. Damn it, how did I get into this mess?

“Well, sis, let’s get started! You’re with the people fighting for hope now, right?” Junko taunts me. “Then show me what you’ve got! Show me how you’ll overcome despair!”

“I’m not here to fight for hope. I’m just trying to get you back.”

“Then come and get me, soldier.”

Junko manipulated me at every turn. She knew I’d come as soon as she called. She knew I’d ignore the risks and do whatever I needed to do to reach her. And now I’m here, right where she wants me. What am I supposed to do?

I look down at the revolver. I weigh my options. If I were a rational, self-interested person, the choice would be obvious: load all six bullets, and shoot Junko. I would survive and escape easily enough. All I have to do is kill Junko. But killing Junko is the last thing I want to do.

I look at Junko’s face. She’s studying me with a mysterious smile, watching with anticipation to see what I do. I imagine shooting that face. A bang, and a trail of blood streaming from a fresh, fatal wound. The thought of it turns my stomach. I couldn’t do that to her. Despite everything, I love her too much. I don’t want Junko to die.

Then there’s the other option. I turn the gun on myself, and I take the bullet. I can’t do that, either. I’ve spent my whole life struggling to stay alive, doing everything I could to stay just one step ahead of the reaper. I don’t have it within me to shoot myself, because that goes against my entire being. But, when I consider the alternative…

I don’t have to load six bullets. Could I load fewer, and leave it to chance? Even if I did that, I’d still have to point the gun at someone. I can’t risk either outcome. I can’t kill Junko. I can’t kill myself. I’ve been able to kill so many others in the past: soldiers, civilians, students, anybody. I never once felt an ounce of hesitation; I just did my job. Junko has taken perhaps the only two people in the world that I can’t kill, locked them in a room together, and told me to kill one of them. It’s a paradox of despair that suits her perfectly.

There’s only one option. I swing out the revolver’s cylinder. The six chambers are empty, as expected. Without putting any rounds in, I push the cylinder back into place, point the gun at the table, and pull the trigger. Click. My turn is over.

Junko sighs. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was expecting. You’re way too predictable, sis. As boring and disappointing as ever. By the way,” she says, brandishing her pistol, “you technically just broke a rule. You were supposed to point the revolver at someone when you fired, but you didn’t. Are you seriously too much of a coward to point an empty gun at someone?”

“Trigger discipline,” I mutter.

“Hmph.” Junko pouts. “I’ll let it slide this time, since it couldn’t have made a difference. But if it happens again, well…” she points the pistol at me, showing absolutely no trigger discipline. I get the message.

“Now it’s your turn, right?” I ask, holding out the revolver.

“That’s right!” Junko says gleefully. “Glad you remembered at least that much.” She takes the revolver from my hand, and I’m glad to be rid of it. Even though I know what not holding the gun means for me, I feel better without it.

Junko stares at the revolver as she lazily dangles it in front of her. “What to do, what to do?”

If I had to guess, I don’t think she’ll go straight for the win. That’s not her style. She’ll load some number of bullets less than six, then aim at me. I remember what happened in the gymnasium during the killing game. She has no qualms about killing her sister; she’ll gladly give my life for the sake of despair. The question is, how many bullets will she use? What are the odds going to be?

She picks up bullets from the table one at a time. One. Two. Three. She puts them in the cylinder, slides it into place, and spins. She’s opted for a 50/50 chance. I suppose that makes sense. She’d get the most enjoyment out of a completely uncertain outcome.

“Are you getting nervous yet, sis?” she asks. “I’ve got three slugs here with your name on them.” I don’t point out that the things she just put in the revolver are definitely not slugs.

“I’m not scared,” I bluff. “I’ve faced worse odds than this.” While I have been in greater danger before, that doesn’t make this any less terrifying. A one-in-two chance of death is something no human could face without fear.

“You aren’t? Well, that’s no fun,” she whines. “Then how about we spice things up?” She takes the revolver and presses the tip against the side of her head.

“Junko!” I shout, instantly rising to my feet. She’s poised to shoot herself at point blank. In one second, I’ve lost my composure entirely. My heart races as I watch her helplessly.

“Huh?” Junko asks with a vicious smirk. “What’s wrong, Mukuro? Are you worried about me?” She giggles with childish glee. “Oh, I can picture it now. I pull this trigger, and for a split second, just an instant, I get to see the look on your face as you watch your beloved sister die of misfortune. God, what brilliant despair! It’s getting more tempting by the second. Oh, I can feel my finger slipping—”

“Stop it!” I beg. “Please, Junko, don’t do it! Stop this right now!” I don’t know what else to do. This is unbearable. I can’t keep watching. I just want it to stop.

“Hahaha!” Junko laughs. “You’re so pathetic! To think you called yourself Ultimate Despair, and now here you are begging for someone else’s life. You’re nothing, Mukuro. That should be clearer now than it ever has been, if you can’t even appreciate this despair.”

I breathe heavily. “Appreciate? Of course I can appreciate it, Junko. It’s despair greater than I’ve ever imagined. But I don’t want that despair, I want you!”

“You want me, huh? Fair enough, I guess. Believe it or not, I want you too, Mukuro.” She turns the revolver away from herself and points it at me. “That’s why this will bring me despair, too. Just as much as it’ll bring you. Sit down.”

I obey. I get back in my chair and find myself at eye level with the barrel of the gun. I can’t tell what’s in the chamber. I have no idea whether my life is about to end. But somehow, this is easier for me to handle than Junko being in harm’s way. I guess I really am pathetic, huh? Someone who values another person’s life this much must be.

I glance at Junko’s wrist. The light is blinking at a normal rate. She’s not feeling any adrenaline at all.

“Well, sis, in case this is it, I want you to know that it’s been fun.” Junko licks her lips. “Good luck! Hello, despair…”

I think about a lot in the seconds before she pulls the trigger.

I remember how I felt less than an hour ago, wanting nothing more than to see my sister again. Wanting nothing more than to bring her home safely, to be with her and not have to worry.

I remember the way she dismissed me after I turned against her during the killing game. I can still feel the pain in my heart from her attempt to sever our bond. I think about how easily I forgave her for her attempt on my life back then.

I remember the voice calling out for me in the gymnasium. “Mukuro!” In my mind’s eye I see Makoto taking a spear for me. His trust and his concern for me that day gave me a life I would have otherwise lost. And now here I am, handing that life right back to Junko. I can’t help but feel that his kindness went to waste.

I remember the last thing Makoto said to me before I left. “Take care of yourself, okay? Make sure you get back here alive.” He wanted me to stay safe, no matter what. But my own safety was the first thing I threw away, and I did it just to see Junko. What’s he going to think when he finds out I died? Will he feel betrayed? That would be fair. I did betray his wishes.

I don’t want to die. I can’t die here. I want to stay alive, and it’s too late. It was too late the moment I stepped into this room.

Junko pulls the trigger. Click.

Overwhelming relief. Release of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Trembling. I just sit for a moment, feeling every sensation in my body. Feeling glad to be alive.

“Aw, bummer!” Junko says. “Looks like I had bad luck that time. Oh, well! Your turn again, sis. And remember: no taking bullets out.” She holds out the revolver sideways. Very carefully, I take it. Once again, the responsibility is mine.

“Junko,” I say, “you really are an artist.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“This place. This game. They’re all perfect for creating despair. You deserve some credit.”

“Why, thank you, sis!” Junko replies cheerily. “It’s always nice when someone takes notice. At the very least, you’ve always given praise where it’s due.”

“Yeah,” I nod. While this exchange is going on, I try to get my body under control. Recover from my jitters, relax my tense muscles. Try to ease up enough that the light on my wrist stops blinking like crazy. I need to make sure I’m in the right state of mind for what’s to come.

“So, what are you gonna do?” she asks. “Come on, come on! I can’t bear to keep waiting. Tell me what your plan is!”

“I…” I pause. I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m still recovering. Junko’s right, though, I need to get my mind back to reality. “I’m not going to tell you,” I say. “You’ll just have to wait.”

“Ugh, fine,” Junko whines. “Hurry up! I want to see your despair!”

My despair. She’s right in thinking that’s what she’ll see. I don’t have any way to avoid despair. Maybe my best move is to just pick a target and take a 50/50 chance. I could kill Junko or myself on accident. Could I live with that? The stakes are massive. Whether I or Junko makes it out alive is about to be determined. Whether I see Makoto and the others again, or whether she does. Can I let that be a coin toss?

No. No! My sister’s life, my life, I can’t just throw them up in the air again. Not after what I just experienced. I won’t leave it to chance.

“I have to make a choice,” I say.

“Is that so? And what’s your choice?” Junko asks. She makes relentless eye contact with her hungry gaze. She wants nothing more than to see me struggle.

I pull out the cylinder and look inside. As expected, three of the six chambers contain rounds. The other three are empty. I take a breath. Before I can second-guess myself, I take the remaining three rounds off the table and load them into the revolver. Six of six chambers are full. The gun is fully, irreversibly loaded.

Junko giggles. It’s a soft, almost cute sound. Then it grows. It turns into a laugh, a joyful laugh that fills the air. It almost sounds completely benign. It grows further, into a mad, roaring cackle that echoes through the room. It’s the sound of Junko indulging in a cocktail of emotions, the primer for despair. It’s all too familiar to me.

“Yes. Yes!” she shouts. “Oh my god, yes, Mukuro! This is it, this is your chance! Finally, for once in your fucking life, prove that you can create despair!”

I push the cylinder back into place. I spin it, for no other reason than that Junko will probably enjoy it. There’s no turning back now. I’m committed to making a kill.

But I still haven’t decided who to shoot.

It’s the same dilemma as before: I can’t point the gun at myself or at Junko. I want to live, and I want to protect her. If there’s anything fundamental to my being, it’s those two desires. Survival, and keeping Junko safe. I have to choose one, though. How am I going to decide?

“Come on, Mukuro,” Junko prods. “Stop wasting time.”

Time. I don’t have much of it. If I take too long, Junko will make my choice for me. I can’t let her take it from me—I’ve taken it into my own hands. Time. I think about time.

The past. Junko and I growing up together. Enduring hardships, becoming closer. Me learning to value her over all else. Me running away to become a soldier. My only distraction on the battlefield being thoughts of her, and a longing to see her again. My eventual return. Joining her at Hope’s Peak. Helping her sow the seeds of the Tragedy. All the while coming to love her more and more. Thinking of all of this makes it harder and harder to shoot her. How could I, after all we’ve been through?

The present. I came here to retrieve Junko, but I ended up getting caught in a trap instead. My mission is a failure. She’s right in front of me. Looking at her, I see the face I’ve loved for so long. The person I value more than anyone else. She’s responsible for this situation, but I don’t think she made it happen out of malice. We’re playing this game because Junko and I have the closest relationship possible, and that relationship is a perfect catalyst for despair. She means too much to me. She may have the willpower to kill her sister for despair, but I don’t.

The future. What will happen to Junko if she survives this? I can only guess. She’ll probably remain in hiding for a while, then she’ll get back to doing what she does best: creating despair. While she’s still alive and free, the Tragedy can never come to an end. Will the forces of hope defeat her and capture her alive? That’s the outcome I want, but if I think about it, it isn’t likely. Either she’ll eventually be killed… or she’ll win. She might capture the 78th class again. Force them to participate in another killing game. She would wipe their memories, including Makoto’s memories. He would forget me, and never even realize it.

I have a feeling I can’t quite place. Is this anger? Fear? When I think about what might happen to Makoto, I feel different. Protective, almost like I am toward Junko. But I don’t care about him as much as I care about her. I couldn’t care about anybody as much as her. Still, he matters to me. His friends, too. I want all of them to stay safe. I want them to be free of her despair. If I die here, I can’t guarantee that.

I point the gun at Junko.

She’s genuinely startled. “Huh? Big sis?”

What I’m doing doesn’t feel real to me. It’s like I’m in a dream. It’s all hypothetical, none of this can be real.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I feel wrong and right at the same time. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done and the only thing I can do. Junko is the only one who could make these feelings happen, these things that don’t make any sense.

She isn’t disturbed. She smiles. “Wow, Mukuro, I didn’t think you’d be able to get that far. Actually pointing a loaded gun at me? That takes guts I wasn’t sure you had. But I know you aren’t really going to kill me.”

I stay silent. I hold the gun steady.

“I can see right through you,” she smirks. “This is your last gift to me, right? You’re pointing that gun at me, acting like you’re going to shoot, just to make me feel a bit of extra despair. But then you’ll turn it back on yourself. I like it, sis! Great plan. I’m almost sad that you won’t be around to make more despair, you were just starting to get good at it.”

I can’t think about it anymore. I just have to get it over with.

I summon every ounce of willpower I have, and I pull the trigger.

Bang.

Junko gasps and reflexively puts a hand on her chest. She looks down, lifts her hand, and sees it stained with blood. There’s a wound through her right breast. That’s where I shot her. Her expression is one of disbelief.

“You—You actually—” Junko struggles to get the words out. She’s in a lot of pain, and having trouble breathing. The bullet penetrated her lung, and probably got lodged inside. Even with all of my determination, I couldn’t bring myself to shoot her in the head. Nevertheless, if left untreated, that wound will kill Junko within a few minutes. The lung will collapse, she’ll run out of oxygen, and then she’ll die. She’ll die. It’s not real.

Junko makes a sound that probably would have been laughter if she could breathe normally. Instead, it’s a series of pathetic gasps and exhales. “Give it—to me,” she says, holding out her left hand.

I tighten my grip on the revolver. “No.”

She grits her teeth. “I’m still alive. It’s my turn. Give me—the gun.”

It hurts to see her in pain like this, even though I know she’s enjoying it. “No,” I repeat.

“Fine.” She reaches under the table and pulls out the semi-automatic. I dive out of the way, taking evasive action as she pulls the trigger.

Click.

“Ha… Ha… it was empty—the whole time! Doesn’t that—fill you with…”

She falls out of her chair, onto the ground.

“Junko!” I shout. I rush over to her, still holding the revolver. She’s lying limp, letting the blood flow freely from her wound. She doesn’t have long.

“I feel amazing,” she says. “This despair. This wonderful despair!”

I don’t know what to say.

She gasps for more air. “I never thought—you’d actually do it. Didn’t think—you’d really betray me.”

Betrayal. That’s right. I betrayed my sister. I chose my life over hers.

“I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought,” I say.

“Heh. Guess not.” She looks up at me. “Did you do it for him?”

Did I do it for him?

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! You—you shot me and—you don’t—ha—you really are—hopeless.”

“Yeah,” I say. Hopeless. To us, that word has a deep meaning.

“Sis?” she says.

“What is it?”

“I never got—my execution. I wanted an execution.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Give it to me,” she says.

She wants me to execute her. Of course she does.

“You’re so predictable,” I say.

She does that gasping half-laugh again. Her condition is getting worse.

As I point the gun at her a second time, I detach myself. I put myself outside of the situation, put my feelings to rest. I’m an observer inside of my own body. With no sense of myself or what I’m doing, I say words that come from nowhere.

“Thank you, Junko.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I know what this despair means to you. I know how much it’s worth. The fact that you’re willing to share it with me is an honor. So—”

“Mukuro.”

“What?”

“Just shut up. Nothing’s more disappointing—than a half-assed lie.”

Silence follows. I stare at Junko. I capture every detail in my mind. Her lying on the ground, staring up at me. Blood flowing from the wound in her breast. Her eyes, containing an emotion I can’t comprehend. Her eyes, with life behind them. Alive for the last time.

“Well? Are you going to—”

I pull the trigger. The gun fires.

…

She’s dead.

I need to stop looking at her face. I look down at her bracelet. A continuous red light. A confirmation, as if the hole I put between her eyes isn’t proof enough of what I’ve done.

Behind me, I hear the sound of the elevator doors opening. No lies from Junko. I’ve been given the reward I earned.

I pick up Junko’s body and leave the room, carrying only her and the revolver.

Outside the building, I bury her and mark the spot. I’ll be able to find it again.

I begin the journey back.

In front of the Future Foundation building are two armed guards. I preemptively put my hands in the air so that they won’t shoot me when they spot me. As soon as I’m seen, they run over and grab me.

They ask questions. Am I alone? Am I armed? Am I injured? I tell them the appropriate answers. They ask a few more questions, to which I don’t give answers. They confiscate the revolver and force me inside. I make no effort to resist.

In the lobby, my classmates are waiting for me. They have a variety of facial expressions. Some of them are relieved. Others are worried. Others are indifferent. But they all have their eyes on me. They’re talking.

They ask me questions that I ignore. They give me lectures and admonishments that I don’t care about. Thirteen students each take a turn to say something to me, and it’s all in one ear and out the other. I’m not here.

His voice brings me back.

“Mukuro?” Makoto says. “Mukuro, please talk to us.”

I look at him. He’s the most concerned out of everyone. I’m making him worry. I’m hurting him.

“What?” I ask.

“Did you find Junko?” he asks. I feel heavy.

“Yes.”

“Where is she?” he asks. I feel faint.

The others start pushing me. Prodding, prying. They want the answer. Where is she? Where is she? I force it out.

“Junko is dead.”

That’s the answer. The truth they’ve been waiting to hear. The only thing they really cared about.

I look at them again. What am I expecting? Are they going to be sad? Or overjoyed? Will they immediately start a celebration? Throw a party to celebrate my sororicide?

They’re silent. None of them says a single word. None of them will look at me. Are they nervous? Scared? I don’t know. I can’t understand them. They’re not saying anything.

Makoto walks up to me. I know what he’s about to do. He’s going to say something. He always says something. He’ll use his words to give everyone hope. That’s his true talent: he brings hope to any hopeless situation. What’s he going to say? What could he possibly say?

He puts his arms around me. He says nothing. He just holds me in a silent hug.

Everything comes rushing to the surface. There’s a soreness in my throat, a stinging in my eyes, a sick feeling in my head.

I hold him tightly, cry in his arms, and feel the pain of loss like I never have before.