Disclaimer: I do not own Danganronpa or its characters, just my sick, twisted mind and the stories that it churns out.

Also, names will be in accordance to the Japanese manner, [last name][first name]. Suffixes (-kun, -chan, -san) are added to a person's name if the character uses it in canon.

To use a person's first name, you must be extremely close (best friends, in a relationship, etc.), and you must obtain that person's permission, or you must be family.

The use of last and first names and suffixes is pivotal in this story.

Load the ammunition.

When Naegi Makoto first stepped into Hope's Peak Academy, he was filled with awe.

The building towered over him, just like the expectations of everyone. Just because he secured a place in Hope's Peak Academy by winning the lottery, they thought he would not make it among the top students of Japan. No, he was planning to prove them wrong and emerge as one of them.

He had always wanted to be one of the elite, and this school would shape him into one of them. Granted, Naegi got in by sheer luck, but that would change, wouldn't it? His most redeeming trait was his optimism, and he was determined to show them that he could live up to the name of this legendary school.

(He could do it. He would do it. Optimism was his only redeeming quality, after all.)

When Naegi stepped into the Hope's Peak Academy at the start of the second week, he was filled with dread.

Arrogant bigots, the lot of them. Looking down on Naegi because he did not have a so-called talent. They never spared him a second glance, ostracizing him from every activity, ignoring his cries of help when the fists of Oowada Mondo rained upon him, sniggering when a sewing needle was found in the bento Maizono gave to him, laughing when he almost drowned and the Ultimate Swimmer stood by, watching him splutter his lungs out.

Kirigiri, with all the kindness of her heart, patched him up and shipped him to the principal's office, where Naegi was promised disciplinary action against the perpetrators. He cried, tears of joy that seemed to flow endlessly, and in her all-knowing goodness, Kirigiri held him as he wept.

(Having a heart in the lands of the heartless was both a blessing and a curse. It allowed Naegi to keep his morals, but it also left him prone to hurt.)

When he stepped into Hope's Peak Academy for the 137th time, he decided it would be his last.

He lived for her, to see a smile decorate her face, framed by lavender hair that seemed to glow silver in sunlight. He loved her intelligence, her integrity, but most of all, her heart.

That is, until she turned from him as well.

They had a bad breakup, and she screamed at him for not being man enough to face his troubles by himself, and it was then that he realized that she did not understand as well as he thought. How would she bring herself to understand? She was the daughter of the principal, the Ultimate Detective, amazingly intelligent and stunningly beautiful. She was never in the same position as he was, heck, she was not even in the same league as him. She could survive without him, and after he was truly gone from her life would she be able to find someone who was able to take care of himself and her.

He made a decision. Fingering the concealed blade hidden in his hoodie, he steeled himself. He pushed his sleeves up, revealing line upon line of self-inflicted scars. He chickened out time and again when her face appeared before him, but this time, he truly had nothing left to lose.

The blade traced his veins down the underside of his forearm, and he jumped from the tower of expectations he once hoped to conquer.

(And he actually thought they were meant to be.)

When he stepped into Hope's Peak Academy after that incident, he kept his head under his hoodie, refusing to reveal himself to anyone.

So many apologies arrived, too little, too late. He was a shell of what he used to be, his most redeeming trait crushed by the city's most redeeming students. Hushed whispers and stares pierced him, but he ignored all of them. He did not want their pity, all he wanted was to get this over and done with. Withdraw from the school, and be spared from the misery of facing these people.

Yet, life was never going to be that easy.

"Hey, you're the guy who tried to kill himself, right?"

He pulled his hoodie further down and began to brisk walk, ignoring the deathly silence that befell the crowd.

"It's not nice to ignore people, you know!"

Irritated, he threw his hoodie down, turning around to face the person. "What?" he hissed. Get it over and done with, and I can drop out of this blasted school.

The person ran his hand through raven locks, laughing nervously. "I'm Matsuda Yasuke, the Ultimate Neurologist. You must be Naegi Makoto," the boy said, holding out a hand.

He eyed the hand suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"To be friends with you!" Matsuda beamed, before grabbing him in a headlock and dragging him away, ignoring screamed protests and none-too-veiled threats.

(Perhaps the start of his downfall was here, and not the fall he took while attempting to take his life.)

When he stepped into Hope's Peak Academy after being let on to The Plan, Naegi felt his optimism return to him.

He ripped the withdrawal form to shreds, returning to class and pretending that nothing ever happened. Teachers and students alike gave him odd stares, but he ignored them. After all, he had something to live for now.

"Seems like that senior really did Naegi some good," Asahina whispered to Kyouko – no, Kirigiri-san – completely unaware that he could hear her.

Enoshima Junko, too, heard. They exchanged glances, and in that gesture, so much more.

(Kirigiri saw, and swallowed the hurt and jealousy and sheer guilt and hoped that Makoto – no, Naegi-kun – would be better off without her.)

When he stepped into Hope's Peak Academy for the last time, he wondered if he would ever leave.

The door was barricaded and shut and steel panels were hammered into windows. There was no escape now, no turning back from the situation he put himself in.

Methodically, Junko, Mukuro and himself knocked out students one by one, with Mukuro knocking them out and carrying them to Junko for memory erasing while he watched security cameras for suspicious activity.

When all of the others (those who made his life hell) were knocked out and placed in different classrooms, he nodded and placed himself on the surgical table, grabbing Mukuro's hand when she tried to administer anesthesia.

In all irony, he forgot his agony in the overwhelming pain.

(He was meant to suffer. It was meant to be.)