Chapter Text
Several floors beneath the headquarters of the Future Foundation, a conference room hummed quietly with the steady rhythm of running systems. The space had been designed for oversight rather than comfort. A long table stretched across the center of the room, surrounded by chairs arranged with careful symmetry. The walls were lined with monitors, each displaying streams of information that updated in steady intervals - amongst them, environmental readings, system diagnostics, status reports, and other technical data scrolling past in pale columns of green and blue. Indicator lights blinked softly beside them; the room was less of a meeting space and more like the control center for something delicate.
Inside, Makoto Naegi rested one hand against the central console as he looked across the table. Several members of the Foundation were already seated. Tablets and printed reports lay in front of them, though most of their attention had shifted toward him rather than the documents. Some leaned forward with quiet focus while others sat back in their chairs with the patient composure of people accustomed to long briefings. At his side, Kyoko Kirigiri stood with her arms folded loosely across her chest. Though her posture remained relaxed, the stillness in her stance carried its usual sharp awareness.
Hajime Hinata was also present. Although not a member of the organization, he was the subject of the Kamukura Project at Hope's Peak Academy and sat slightly apart from the others, maintaining a position that neither implied exclusion nor centrality. He listened attentively throughout the meeting, his tense posture noted by several attendees.
Makoto glanced once toward the monitors behind him before speaking. "Thanks for coming, everyone," he said, his voice carrying easily through the quiet room.
"So, prep work is finished. The environment has completed initialization, and everyone has been transferred to their starting positions," Kyoko continued.
A small murmur passed between several of the officials. Makoto didn't raise his voice as he moved forward. "As I'm sure you're all aware, we're here to finalize plans for our fifth attempt at the Recovery Process."
One of the Foundation members, a middle-aged man seated near the center of the table, tapped the edge of his tablet with his finger. "Sir, you are aware that the previous four attempts ended early due to a long string of mechanical errors?" When Makoto nodded, the man leaned back slightly in his chair. "Then you understand why some of us are hesitant to proceed again."
His tone carried professional caution rather than open criticism. Makoto met his gaze. "I do, but -"
Another member of the staff spoke from the far end of the table. "Naegi-san, for the purposes of recording," she said, "please summarize the purpose of the program once more."
Makoto drew a slow breath, now realizing a camera was pointed at him. "The people participating in this project went through similar events as a consequence of the actions committed by the Ultimate Despair," he said. "Many of them found themselves in situations where survival depended on turning against each other. This includes some members of the class Kyoko and I belonged to. Others still carry the weight of decisions they made just to stay alive. They never had the chance to face those experiences together in a place free from fear. This environment gives them that opportunity, which they otherwise lost when they passed away."
It was a controlled setting where they could interact without the pressure that had once defined every moment around them. The camera operator scribbled something in her notes before turning the page around for Makoto to read: And the earlier attempts?
"The four previous attempts ended in failures," Makoto admitted. "The main issue seems to be the environment being unable to sustain the damages caused by the project's commencement." Behind him, a slideshow of ruined buildings flashed, all with the faces of several subjects the Foundation was attempting to rehabilitate. "With the exception of the third trial, all of our previous attempts were discontinued within one hour of starting."
Kyoko broke the silence. "Each attempt gave the Foundation more information," she said calmly. "After each failure, the engineers adjusted the programming by minuscule amounts. The team revised the introductory sequence again yesterday, and now the initial meeting point encourages staggered interaction."
Several members of the staff glanced toward the monitors as if imagining the adjustments she described. Another official looked back at Makoto. "You believe this version will succeed?"
"We are somewhat uncertain of the potential of the project in this state," Makoto considered the question carefully. "That being said, all of us are committed to running a minimum of three more attempts over the course of the upcoming six months."
The man watched him quietly. "You're placing a lot of faith in them."
Makoto smiled sadly. "They've survived more than most people ever deserve. Some were given executions in awful ways, whilst others died knowing nothing other than fear in their final moments."
Silence settled across the room until another official shifted in his seat. "All systems are active. Monitoring is in place. Technical protocols cleared for booting." He turned slightly in his chair, directing his attention down the table. "There's only one question left."
Several pairs of eyes followed his gaze toward Hajime. The former reserve course student felt the attention shift immediately. He kept his hands folded on the table, staring at them for a moment longer than necessary. The silence stretched for several seconds before a woman addressed him directly. "Hinata-san, as always, your role in this project is critical. Before we move forward, we need to know if you are willing to proceed."
Hajime didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice lacked the quiet certainty Makoto had carried. "Before we start, there's something you should understand." For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the steady hum of the monitors. "When I agreed to help with this, it wasn't because I thought everything would go smoothly. You all know what happened to me. The procedure that created Izuru Kamukura didn't just give me abilities; it also gave me a new identity. It changed how my mind works."
He lifted his gaze. "And if that side of me wakes up completely... things can get unpredictable. The system you built uses my brain as its core. My body is what allows the project to reconstruct the participants and keep them stable in the new world. So if Izuru gets bored while I'm connected... he could start changing things."
The room fell silent. Makoto stepped forward before the tension could settle too heavily. "We've accounted for that possibility. There's an emergency shutdown built into the system. If anything begins behaving unpredictably, the experiment can be stopped immediately."
Kyoko added, "The command requires a passcode, the likes of which only Makoto and I know."
"Before Hinata-san is transferred, we need to complete the consent recording," an official noted. Makoto's expression tightened, but he said nothing as a small camera rotated toward Hajime. "This is a requirement to ensure your consent is given," the operator said, "thus we request you answer all yes-or-no questions with 'I do.'"
Hajime provided the date and time, then listened as the prompts continued. "Please explain the purpose of the Rehabilitation Project to the best of your ability."
"It's meant to help people who went through extreme psychological trauma rebuild trust and confront those experiences in a controlled environment," Hajime said. "The goal is to give them the chance to move forward."
"Explain your role within the project."
Hajime's fingers tightened. "My body will serve as the core system used to reconstruct the participants and maintain their existence inside the environment."
"Do you give verbal and formal consent to participate in the Rehabilitation Project?"
"I do."
"Do you acknowledge the life-threatening dangers imposed by the project and agree to accept those risks?"
"I do."
The operator held up a board with a final, formal prompt. Hajime stood up, straightening his chair. "I, Hajime Hinata, do give verbal confirmation of my choice to participate in the Rehabilitation Project. By making this acknowledgement, I absolve the Future Foundation of any and all consequences arising from the Project and voluntarily waive my right to take legal action against the Foundation. I acknowledge that this decision is my own and not influenced by any other party."
When he finished, Hajime bowed respectfully toward the camera. The red light flickered off. "Recording complete," the operator said. While the legal staff seemed satisfied, Makoto did not look particularly pleased about the final statement, though he kept the thought to himself.
Two security officers stepped forward. "If you'll come with us." Hajime rose from his seat, glancing once toward Makoto and Kyoko. Makoto gave him a small nod in return as Hajime followed the guards out.
The elevator carried them several levels deeper into the facility. Security increased with each corridor they passed until they reached a circular hub with branching passageways. At the center of the room stood a large pod connected to a network of cables. One of the technicians gestured toward it. "You can take a moment if you need it."
Hajime nodded once. Instead of approaching the pod immediately, he walked toward a side passageway. Inside the brightly lit chamber beyond, he reached into his pocket and placed a small object carefully on the platform at the center. He stood in silence for a few seconds before returning to the central chamber. The shutter closed behind him with a heavy metallic sound.
"Ready?" a technician asked.
"Yeah."
The pod opened with a soft hiss. Hajime climbed inside and lay back. Above his head, a panel slid open to reveal a recessed button. "Once the lid closes, you will have thirty seconds before the neural connections begin," the technician explained. "If you change your mind during that time, press the button above you. The program will terminate immediately. After the connection begins, the control retracts and cannot be accessed again. And these units can't be forced open from the inside. Trying to damage the pod would risk severe neurological feedback."
"Understood," Hajime said.
"Closing the hatch." The curved lid lowered, sealing him inside. A countdown appeared on the small display above him. Hajime stared up at the button. For several seconds, he didn't move. Then he lowered his arm and let it rest at his side.
Back in the conference room, the command interface updated:
PRIMARY SUBJECT CHAMBER SECURED
NEURAL INTERFACE PREPARING
Kyoko stepped closer to the console as a middle-aged man walked into the room. "Signal coming in from the chamber," a technician reported. Just then, a second line appeared on the CLI: NEURAL LINK ESTABLISHED.
"Connection confirmed," the technician said. "Izuru Kamukura is now linked to the system."
A passcode prompt appeared. Kyoko entered it without hesitation. Across another monitor, a technician reviewed several participant records. "There's an identifier here listed under an alias," he said. "T.Y."
Makoto glanced toward the screen. "I see... that one is using her proper name." Kyoko didn't seem concerned either way, but she executed the command, and the entry was updated. Nearby, another technician opened a personality configuration file to run an integrity check. Memory records were updated simultaneously as the system finalized its sequence.
Deep below the facility, the green in Hajime's right eye slowly faded. When the synchronization finished, both of his eyes were red.
Roughly ten minutes passed before anything changed. At first, the shift was subtle. The command line display continued scrolling in the same steady rhythm. Then, someone near the back of the room leaned forward. "Wait."
The first one pointed at the terminal: SUBJECT INITIALIZATION - COMPLETE. For a moment, the room went quiet. Another line followed: ACTIVE SUBJECTS: 01. A few technicians let out quiet breaths they hadn't realized they were holding. Chairs shifted as people leaned closer. "Environmental stability is holding." "Connection integrity's clean." "The neural bridge didn't collapse."
One of the programmers stepped toward the central terminal. "We should save the progress," she said, reaching toward the keyboard. "Just in case something -"
"No." The technician beside her was firm. "Because this isn't a video game. We don't pause the world and reload a save file if something breaks."
No one pushed the argument. Across the room, Kyoko remained at the primary console, eyes moving calmly across the diagnostics. Makoto stood beside her. "So the program works," he said quietly.
"For now," she replied. The screen refreshed again: ACTIVE SUBJECTS: 02. Another line appeared: 03.
Makoto tilted his head. "They're waking up faster than I expected."
"The first successful connection stabilizes the environment," Kyoko explained. "Once that happens, the synchronization process accelerates."
A staff member approached. "Naegi. The call you were expecting."
Makoto exhaled softly. "Right." He gave Kyoko a small nod, then turned to the room. "Everyone who isn't directly monitoring the system can step outside for now. We'll call you back if something changes."
As the technicians filed out, Makoto and Kyoko stepped into the adjacent conference room where Byakuya Togami appeared on the screen. He was seated in a high-tier office with polished stone walls. "Well?" he asked.
Makoto rubbed the back of his neck. "We've successfully activated the first subject."
"One," Byakuya repeated.
"The process has begun," Kyoko added. "More connections are forming now."
As if on cue, a voice called out: "Four subjects active!" But when Kyoko refreshed the system, it had changed once more: ACTIVE SUBJECTS: 06.
"They're accelerating," Makoto noted.
"Of course they are," Byakuya muttered. "If the system collapsed before the first wave finished connecting, even I would have been disappointed. I still question the logic behind dedicating this many resources to resurrecting people who did not contribute to the world."
"You've mentioned that," Kyoko said evenly.
"And yet you're proceeding anyway."
Makoto shrugged slightly. "Some things are worth trying."
"Optimism remains your most dangerous flaw."
"Fourteen subjects active!" a voice echoed. The terminal stabilized soon afterward. Kyoko watched the command line for several seconds.
Before the conversation could continue, a technician stepped into the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt. Asahina asked to speak with you."
A few minutes later, Hina hurried into a nearby office, looking out of breath. "Sorry, but something came up earlier. Hajime made a request before the procedure started. He asked Sonia to supervise the program. He said if something goes wrong with him, he wants someone else overseeing things who actually understands the people inside."
Makoto blinked. "Sonia?"
Before Kyoko could respond, Byakuya's voice cut in. "That arrangement is acceptable. Princess Nevermind controls considerable wealth. If she wishes to involve herself in the project, it would be foolish to discourage her participation."
Makoto sighed. "You're trying to make her help fund it."
"I prefer the term 'encouraging responsible investment.'"
Hina rolled her eyes. "Figures. But there was something else. Two people from Team Danganronpa's case arrived earlier today: Shuichi Saihara and Maki Harukawa."
Kyoko's expression sharpened. "The survivors?"
"Well, yeah, excluding the mage. They've already started working with some of the technicians," Hina said. "They kept a lot of records after their game ended. Personal habits, relationships, the way everyone changed over time... stuff like that."
Not long afterward, the group split up. Makoto returned to his office with Maki, while Kyoko brought Shuichi into hers. Maki stood across from Makoto's desk with her arms folded, her rigid posture clear proof she wasn't there for comfort. Makoto explained the plan - the memory reconstruction and the four-week timeline to prevent shock - but Maki's expression remained unreadable.
It all came to a halt when she asked a single question: "What about Kaito?"
Makoto hesitated. He explained the illness, the medical records, and the complications of reconstructing a body that had already been deteriorating. "The chances of curing it aren't very good."
Maki didn't leave. She tilted her head slightly. "Did you try? Was fixing him even worth your time?"
"We have medical teams reviewing the data -"
"That's not what I asked." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you try with him?"
Makoto hesitated. The pause lasted barely a second, but it was enough.
"You didn't," she said quietly. Makoto tried to explain the risks of altering a biological template during reconstruction, but it didn't help. "You're bringing back people who killed each other," Maki said, her voice dropping. "And the one person who died after he spent that entire game trying to keep everyone alive, you didn't even try to fix him."
Makoto tried to reassure her, but Maki let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Everything you're willing to try," she corrected, then turned and walked out.
Across the hall, Shuichi sat across from Kyoko's desk. The two detectives spoke calmly about evidence and documentation. Shuichi described the records he and the others had kept, admitting a little awkwardly that it felt strange explaining investigative reasoning to another detective. Kyoko assured him he would manage.
Eventually, he left to begin organizing the material. A short while later, Makoto's phone buzzed. He answered, listened, and nodded once. "I understand. I'll be there in a moment."
He ended the call. Across the hall, Kyoko opened a new notebook, its pages completely barren. She picked up a pen and wrote a single line at the top of the first page: 1 of 30.
Then she closed the notebook, aware that the project had begun, but unaware of the magnitude it would reach.