[There is no time to define the room she's landed in. The buzz of electric shields may make her teeth grind, the high vaulted ceilings trigger a vertigo lurch, but the jump of her pulse from resting rate to life-threatening panic jolts her into focus. She's too late. Two figures are locked in an elaborate dance past the humming shield, swinging lights like blades. (Lightsaber.) One is a fright to behold, a beastly man, a Noh mask rendered in flesh. The other is her Master. Part father, part teacher, part saviour, part friend. Everything poignant rolled into one.
And when the red blade jabs through his middle, her rage might blow her apart.
The shields shift and she's on the monster like a lion, her own blade cuts the air quick enough to split atoms. She's supposed to embody peace. Remain calm. Those old platitudes are punched through and doused in flame. There won't be peace until he is dead.
He missteps, and she has him split in two.
There will be no peace until Qui-Gon is on his feet.
But he feels limp in her arms, even as he's still speaking. Beseeching her with his last breath. Train the boy. And as she realizes what this means, she has no choice but to agree.
No choice but to agree.
They're at the door, six students left out of fifteen. Sixteen, counting the hidden mastermind. They've beaten the bitch at her own game and she kept her word. She threw them a remote as she skipped merrily to her own execution, their only guarantee of opening the exit. They've made their promises. No matter what's outside, they'll stick together and fight for a better future.
Pollution coats your nostrils at once, old smoke and foul fumes that sour the air and colour the sky. There's guns mounted on the school, on every surface imaginable. If you look out far enough you can see they've been used.
Hagakure heard some muffled blasts once and mistook it for construction. How naïve. There are crumpled tanks and battered trenches, black spots spackling the ground. You squint and realize they have splayed arms, crooked legs, scattered weapons. They had come to save you, shaken by the broadcast of the game. Now no one could get close enough to bury them.
She told you it was all over. She had gloated about robbing you of your memories. One year of laughing and learning with your school chums, and a second clutching them tight while you watched the world fall apart. Hope's Peak was in the middle of the city, and the city just plain isn't there anymore.
You were killing each other to come back to this. For money that was worthless, for families long since dead, for secrets that didn't matter anymore. The mastermind was right. It's all gone.
You bring your hands to your heart and wring the knuckles, fighting the urge to cry. How are you supposed to make a future out of this?
Arms come around her. Toko isn't one for being held, the gesture is always alarming unless it comes from Komaru. She doesn't fight it this time. Her arms lock around his middle, her nose buries into his chest. His pain is so potent she can almost smell it. He wears his glib guise so expertly, you'd never know. Obi-Wan buries his feelings deep, fossilizes them, and still he cannot forget them.
She finds herself in a smaller frame next, but the passion is no less. No, she has to prove herself here. Her opponent is a sound fighter but she wants it even more. There's no chances left. She has to succeed, and she'll use every ounce of strength to guarantee it.
He's no match for her then. She fells him, the practice bout soundly won. And there is the Jedi Master at the ready. She sees the beam punch through his chest and her heart seizes in shock. She sees the wise eyes cast over her frame, and she feels it. Victory. She'll be chosen.
He shakes his head.
She's too aggressive. Easy prey for darkness.
And just like that she's sentenced to a life of drudgery. Farmer's drek, after all she's sacrificed. Bandomeer is an overpopulated blight, and she can't fight her disgust at the sight of its city sprawl. Can't fight her disgust at herself.
One foolhardy miscalculation. She'd pushed too hard, and it had cost her everything.
Toko shakes her head. It shifts the set of his fine tailored suit. The thing feels wrong on him, just as the designer drapery sits ill on her. Her hands snag it in the back, as if to prove her point.
This is the man she knew. Thought she knew. She's cast him in such saintly lights, and his failings are all too human.
When Toko lifts her face, her head stops swimming. She blinks him back into clarity. Moves her hands, takes his lapels instead. Urges him to wake up.]
Danganronpa Spoilers
And when the red blade jabs through his middle, her rage might blow her apart.
The shields shift and she's on the monster like a lion, her own blade cuts the air quick enough to split atoms. She's supposed to embody peace. Remain calm. Those old platitudes are punched through and doused in flame. There won't be peace until he is dead.
He missteps, and she has him split in two.
There will be no peace until Qui-Gon is on his feet.
But he feels limp in her arms, even as he's still speaking. Beseeching her with his last breath. Train the boy. And as she realizes what this means, she has no choice but to agree.
No choice but to agree.
They're at the door, six students left out of fifteen. Sixteen, counting the hidden mastermind. They've beaten the bitch at her own game and she kept her word. She threw them a remote as she skipped merrily to her own execution, their only guarantee of opening the exit. They've made their promises. No matter what's outside, they'll stick together and fight for a better future.
Naegi hits the button. The blast doors part and you all wait with bated breath.
The world that waits beyond is worse than you imagined.
Pollution coats your nostrils at once, old smoke and foul fumes that sour the air and colour the sky. There's guns mounted on the school, on every surface imaginable. If you look out far enough you can see they've been used.
Hagakure heard some muffled blasts once and mistook it for construction. How naïve. There are crumpled tanks and battered trenches, black spots spackling the ground. You squint and realize they have splayed arms, crooked legs, scattered weapons. They had come to save you, shaken by the broadcast of the game. Now no one could get close enough to bury them.
She told you it was all over. She had gloated about robbing you of your memories. One year of laughing and learning with your school chums, and a second clutching them tight while you watched the world fall apart. Hope's Peak was in the middle of the city, and the city just plain isn't there anymore.
You were killing each other to come back to this. For money that was worthless, for families long since dead, for secrets that didn't matter anymore. The mastermind was right. It's all gone.
You bring your hands to your heart and wring the knuckles, fighting the urge to cry. How are you supposed to make a future out of this?
Arms come around her. Toko isn't one for being held, the gesture is always alarming unless it comes from Komaru. She doesn't fight it this time. Her arms lock around his middle, her nose buries into his chest. His pain is so potent she can almost smell it. He wears his glib guise so expertly, you'd never know. Obi-Wan buries his feelings deep, fossilizes them, and still he cannot forget them.
She finds herself in a smaller frame next, but the passion is no less. No, she has to prove herself here. Her opponent is a sound fighter but she wants it even more. There's no chances left. She has to succeed, and she'll use every ounce of strength to guarantee it.
He's no match for her then. She fells him, the practice bout soundly won. And there is the Jedi Master at the ready. She sees the beam punch through his chest and her heart seizes in shock. She sees the wise eyes cast over her frame, and she feels it. Victory. She'll be chosen.
He shakes his head.
She's too aggressive. Easy prey for darkness.
And just like that she's sentenced to a life of drudgery. Farmer's drek, after all she's sacrificed. Bandomeer is an overpopulated blight, and she can't fight her disgust at the sight of its city sprawl. Can't fight her disgust at herself.
One foolhardy miscalculation. She'd pushed too hard, and it had cost her everything.
Toko shakes her head. It shifts the set of his fine tailored suit. The thing feels wrong on him, just as the designer drapery sits ill on her. Her hands snag it in the back, as if to prove her point.
This is the man she knew. Thought she knew. She's cast him in such saintly lights, and his failings are all too human.
When Toko lifts her face, her head stops swimming. She blinks him back into clarity. Moves her hands, takes his lapels instead. Urges him to wake up.]
O-Obi-Wan. Obi.