Danganronpa: Painful Truth

Finding Yourself

Maki collapsed against the nearest tree, breathing heavily. She grabbed her nearby water bottle and sipped from it, careful not to drink too quickly after so much physical activity.

She was glad she had abandoned her inconspicuous school uniform for the training outfit Shinji had made after demanding that she promise she would no longer kill for money. The top was a simple black and white checkered sports bra, and the bottoms were a pair of comfortable crimson leggings with checkered stripes down the sides. She liked the aesthetic, although she would never admit it. The checkered pattern reminded her too much of Kokichi.

Peko sat calmly beside her, only slightly winded. She stowed her bamboo sword in its bag and proceeded to clean her glasses. "You have already made significant progress, Miss Harukawa. Your training as an assassin has given you an impressive sense of discipline."

Maki scowled. "Thanks, I guess."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you." Peko watched her with intense red eyes. "But I am curious. You do not intend to return to your work as an assassin, correct? If that is the case, why is it that you desire more training?"

Maki hesitated, staring at the grass. "I've always wondered...what I would be like if I were never trained as an assassin. I feel like I don't even know myself. But someone from the killing game helped me start to figure it out." She blushed, her scowl deepening. "I didn't know what I was feeling, all I knew was that I didn't want it to stop."

Peko stayed silent. She simply listened patiently, adjusting her silver braid.

"Then suddenly...he was about to die," she continued. "In a panic, I confessed my feelings to him. It made sense at the time, but...now that we're both alive and free, and we aren't in any immediate danger...I'm starting to realize that I might have been wrong. This is the first time I've felt this way, so I can't tell if I actually love him, or if I just love the feeling of getting to know myself for once." She sighed, feeling silly. "Maybe it doesn't make sense, but that's why I have to try to start overcoming my weaknesses without him. I need to know for sure before I talk to him again."

Peko blinked, looking mildly surprised. "Actually, that is very wise of you." A tiny, wistful smile played across her lips. "As a matter of fact, I envy you. I wish I'd had the privilege of such rational behavior at your age."

Maki glanced at her with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"It is a very long story. If that won't be a problem, I will proceed." When Maki nodded, Peko closed her eyes and began.

"As I said, I was once employed as a hitwoman for the Yakuza, assigned to protect the heir to the Kuzuryu clan. However, that was a severe understatement. From infancy, I was deliberately stripped of my humanity, instructed to think of myself as no more than a disposable tool, for the Kuzuryu clan to use however they saw fit." Her stoic face held a hint of bitterness. "Once I was assigned to protect Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, my life was dedicated to being available for his use at any time, as a tool should be. 'If your master is attacked, you will be his shield. If he intends to kill, you will be his sword.' Those words were spoken to me every day of my childhood, for as long as I can remember."

Maki's eyes widened. Even the Holy Salvation Society hadn't used such dehumanizing language, and had allowed her a small sample of a childhood before subjecting her to brutal training. They seemed like small details, but she couldn't imagine the difference it made.

"However, Fuyuhiko had no desire to lead his clan. He was born into the Yakuza lifestyle, yet he never seemed comfortable with it. He despised his own clan, everything they stood for, and even himself for his inevitable involvement in their operations. By extension, I assumed he hated me, as well."