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Makoto Naegi was a perfectly ordinary boy. He was of average height, earned average grades, and didn’t have much personality to speak of beyond being an optimist. Even his acceptance into the most prestigious school in Japan had been due to mere chance rather than any amazing skills he had.
So the fact that he had not one, but two names etched into his skin when most people only had one was all the more puzzling to the ordinary boy.
He’d heard of many strange cases involving people and their soul mates’ names. Though most people had just one on their bodies, a fair amount had none at all. Some people had names but never met to whom they belonged. Some fell in love with the wrong owner of the name, or with someone whose name was nowhere to be found on their bodies. But rarely did he hear of people with more than one name written across their skin, and those people were usually accused of fraud or deemed “unnatural.”
The names stretched along his left collarbone, one stacked right on top of the other. He could easily conceal them with any of his oversized hoodies or with a simple t-shirt, so he avoided unwanted attention to them. One of the names seemed normal enough: “Kirigiri Kyouko”, the kanji read. Above it, however, was a combination of symbols that always puzzled Makoto. It read “Ikusaba Mukuro”, but he had never heard of a name quite so… well, morbid. He knew that the name of a soul mate didn’t necessarily have to be their birth name, but was there really someone out there called “Corpse”? It sounded more like the name of an anime villain than anything. Sometimes he wondered if he was the first of a strain of humans that had the name of their murderer in addition to the name of their soul mate. If so, he wondered when his manga-esque adventure would start and whether he’d be revived by his friends after death like in Dragonball Z.
Whatever the case, after receiving news that he was to be a student of Hope’s Peak Academy, he had more pressing concerns than a few birthmarks. Until, of course, he heard both names spoken aloud on his first day of classes.
--
“My name is Kyouko Kirigiri. I’m the Ultimate Detective.”
Though she knew her classmates would figure it out sooner or later, Kyouko was loathe to share her token talent with a classroom full of strangers, particularly when she had no plans to befriend any of them. She wasn’t there for lessons or socialization; she was there to confront her father. Nothing more.
But the instructor had asked everyone to share their names and talents, and she wasn’t in the mood to argue. Upon identifying herself, some of the students nodded acknowledgement. One of them seemed to scribble something into her palm. Kyouko made a mental reminder to sneak a look at the girl’s makeshift notes later.
Despite her disinterest, she listened and memorized each student’s name and associated title. It couldn’t hurt to know, she supposed. Not that she could help it; people-watching and eavesdropping were habits of hers. So when she heard a name she never expected to encounter, it took all her willpower to resist turning to pinpoint the source of the voice that announced it.
“Mukuro Ikusaba. Ultimate Soldier.”
It took her a moment to realize why she recognized it. It wasn’t until she felt a psychosomatic itch below her palm that she remembered the two names branded deep into the scarred flesh of her wrist. Her heart began to race, but she steadied herself with a deep breath. Now was not the time to lose one’s head. She squeezed her wrist with a hand and tried to focus on the continuing train of introductions, but it was impossible; in an attempt to ascertain the nature of the name’s owner, her mind was already trying to recall the faces of the students she’d seen seated when she’d entered late.
The voice, as dull and dead as the owner’s name implied, belonged to a young female by the sound of it, assuming the suspect wasn’t genderqueer. Could it be, then, the muscular girl covered in scars? No, she was sitting to Kyouko’s side, and the suspect’s voice had come from behind. She recognized Sayaka Maizono and Junko Enoshima from popular media, so they were out. It couldn’t be the bubbly dark-skinned girl with the ponytail, either. But who else…?
“Hellooooo! Junko Enoshima here, the Ultimate Fashionista! Don’t wear it out, or you’ll regret it!” Enoshima winked and threw up a playful peace sign.
Ah, that was it. There was another student who had entered along with Junko Enoshima, the one who looked so plain standing next to her colorful classmate that she seemed to be printed in grayscale.
Kyouko knew she could easily be wrong, of course, but at least she had an idea of who to avoid. She could only pray that Ikusaba would either do the same or was one of those rare cases in which a soul mates’ name was printed inside the body where only a surgeon could hope to see it.
For the time being, Kyouko relaxed. She had two names on her arm, but if she was only in danger of meeting one, she was certain she could handle it. She released her wrist and returned her attention to the introductions that were still in process.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat yourself?” the teacher entreated to a student that had apparently mumbled his identity.
“Um,” the timid boy squeaked, his nervous gaze focused on his fidgeting hands. “Ultimate Good Luck. My name is M-M… Makoto Naegi.”
…Shit.
--
Mukuro Ikusaba was trained not to flinch. Even so, when she heard the detective girl speak, she couldn’t help but curl her fingers and stretch the inked skin across the back of her fist. Her second fist clenched when she heard the second name.
In Fenrir, members were required to conceal, to some degree, their soul mates’ names with a tattoo of the group’s crest. Some said that it was to protect members’ loved ones from harm, but many believed that it was to encourage soldiers to forget about them. As such, the most dedicated soldiers chose to cover the names with the opaque snarling wolf head so that the names could no longer be seen at all. Others, like Mukuro, chose different methods.
The symbols were in the star-shaped frame of the sigil, hidden amongst surrounding crisscrossing lines as though camouflaged. Anyone that didn’t already know they were there would merely see it as convoluted tattoo design, but Mukuro could still easily read it if she wanted to.
Not that she really cared about their names. It just looked cool.
When they were kids, she and her sister would pretend it was a hit list. Junko, who had no name to be found on her skin, would be the mob boss, and would send Mukuro into the forest behind their house to hunt the imaginary victims down. When Mukuro returned empty-handed, Junko would either yell or cry over her sister’s failure, so Mukuro always made sure to bring some dead animals back to appease her troubled sister.
Of course, Junko eventually tired of that game, just as she grew tired of Mukuro and her boring potential love life. And so Mukuro grew tired of it as well.
Thus, by the time she’d uncurled her fists as the class lecture began, Mukuro returned to her cold, unfazed demeanor. It didn’t matter to her that she could have some sort of future with these people. It didn’t matter the nature of their feelings toward her, or vice versa. It didn’t even matter that the smile the boy had given her before he even knew her name was the kindest smile she’d ever received. It didn’t matter.
Thankfully, the detective girl appeared to hold a similar opinion, for the two of them never even made eye contact that day. The luck boy, on the other hand, seemed to want to speak to her, but only ever managed a nervous smile before Mukuro walked away or averted her eyes.
By some miracle, Junko gained renewed interest in Mukuro’s dilemma. After classes, when they met in Junko’s room, she hooted and hollered with amusement at Naegi’s nervous stammering, mourned that she could no longer accuse Mukuro of being a lesbian (for she’d assumed that the name Makoto, like Kyouko, belonged to a girl), and reveled over the despair of being destined to be alone while her sister was beloved by everyone. Of course, Naegi probably only stammered out of fear of a potential lover being a known killer, Junko continued to mock Mukuro for her queerness, and being labeled as “beloved” was a gross exaggeration. But that was Junko: always prone to fickleness and drama.
“So what are you going do about it, hmmmmmm?” she finally asked. “Are you gonna chase after them, or let them come to you?”
“I…wasn’t planning on doing anything, actually. They’ll just get in the way. Right?”
Junko released a doleful sigh. “Whatever. Forget I asked. You’d probably fuck up and end up with a normal, happy life, anyway.”
Mukuro blinked. “You think I should… get close to them? And then ruin my own relationship? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Of course that’s what I’m fucking saying! You think I would pass up an opportunity like this?”
“N-no, but—“
“Think of the utter ruin you’ll leave them in when you betray them! When the world has been destroyed and they find out you’ve lured them into a despair-inducing trap… God, the look on their faces! And on yours!” Mukuro didn’t respond, finding it hard to imagine loving anyone other than her sister. Junko’s ecstatic visage vanished. “Look. The least you can do is keep that detective off our trail. I don’t care how you do it as long as she doesn’t die. And no, I’m not going to give you a detailed plan on exactly how to do that. But if you do happen to fall in love with them…” Junko lazily traced a heart over Mukuro’s chest. “Just imagine my name carved into the plaque lining your arteries from those cheeseburgers you love so much. Then you’ll snap out of it.”
“Yes, Junko-chan…”
“Yaaaaaaaawn! You’re way too accommodating. Whatever, though, at least it means you’ll get the fuck out when I say I’m getting laid tonight. By the way: get the fuck out, I’m getting laid tonight! Out!”
Mukuro, trying not to wonder who Junko had ensnared on the first day of classes, nodded absently and let herself be shoved out of Junko’s bedroom.
The idea that Mukuro could be the instigator of emotional rather than physical damage was difficult for her to fathom. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she complete her mission and please Junko. Of course, she had absolutely no idea how to get people to fall in love with her, or even how to break their hearts. Well… at least the first part should be easy. She already knew the three of them were predisposed to be compatible, so maybe she could just… wing it?
Mukuro continued to mutter to herself as she made her way past scattered classmates and upperclassmen wandering through the dormitory building. Like fish around a shark, most students wandering the halls stepped aside as she marched through them. One student, however, did not.
A surprised yelp stopped Mukuro in her tracks. “I-Ikusaba-san!” She blinked and looked down to find her hands clamped around Naegi’s arms.
“Oh.” She released him and took a step back. “Sorry, I must have—I didn’t mean to—“
Naegi chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “It’s alright, I just, uh, you just surprised me.” He lowered his hand and cracked a smile. “You must have really good reflexes, Ikusaba-san!”
“Oh, um… thanks.” Mukuro felt her ears grow hot.
They stood there in silence for several seconds as students milled about them. Conscious of the quiet (and of the soldier staring at him), Naegi started fiddling with his sleeves. “Anyway, i-it’s my fault for almost running into you, so… sorry!”
“Yeah, fine, it’s fine,” Mukuro stammered. In her head, she could hear Junko screeching with delight. She felt the heat in her ears spread to her face. She wanted to bolt. “Um, I gotta go. Bye.”
“Oh! Bye, Ikusaba-san! See you tomorrow!” But Mukuro had already passed the boy and turned the hallway corner.
Mukuro found her room as quickly as she could and jammed her room key into the lock. A moment later she stood the middle of her room surrounded by unfamiliar furniture and the small collection of luggage she brought.
Great, she thought. Day one at Hope’s Peak and she’d already been attacked by emotions she never knew she had. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, told herself that it was just Junko’s influence taking its toll; she didn’t really like the way Naegi had beamed at her, she didn’t really find his tiny frame and timid chuckle endearing. No, Junko had just put these things into her head because that was what she wanted, that was what she did best. She’d tell Junko what happened tomorrow, her sister would have a good laugh, and that would be the end of it.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to… Her jaw tightened when she remembered. She still had to focus on Kirigiri. That would be exponentially more difficult with Naegi around.
Mukuro crouched and began to open her luggage, unpacking clothes and concealed weapons. No use worrying about it now, she knew. What would be would be; things would fall into place regardless of her actions simply because her sister willed it so. All she could do was play her role.
And if that meant treading into the treacherous, unknown territory of high school romance, then so be it.