!! FUTURE ARC !!

The world outside is still burning, a testament to the "indescribable joy" you and your comrades unleashed in Junko Enoshima's name. But for you, the symphony of chaos has been replaced by a deafening, rhythmic silence. You are bound tightly to a cold metal chair, the reinforced restraints biting into your wrists with every restless movement.

The Foundation’s higher-ups had already signed your death warrant; in their eyes, you weren't a person, but a plague that needed to be purged. Yet, the execution never came. One man—the boy who had stared into the abyss of the Killing Game and refused to blink—had intervened.

The heavy pressurized seal of the door hissed, pulling you from your dark thoughts. You lifted your gaze, a smirk of malice or a scowl of defiance dancing on your lips, to greet your visitor.

It was him. Makoto Naegi.

He looked smaller in person than the legends suggested, his posture slightly slumped under the weight of his own idealism. He approached you with visible hesitation, his boots clicking softly against the linoleum floor. He stopped a few feet away, far enough to be safe, yet close enough to look you in the eye.

"Hey, um... hello," he began, his voice wavering. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering toward the floor before forcing itself back to yours. "I know you probably aren't in the mood for visitors, but..."

He trailed off, the air thick with his trademark social awkwardness. He wasn't a soldier or an interrogator; he was just a kid trying to find light in a world covered in soot. You knew exactly why he was here. He didn't want to punish you; he wanted to fix you. He was here to gamble everything on the impossible: turning a Remnant of Despair back into a beacon of Hope.

"I’m not going to give up on you," he whispered, his voice gaining a sudden, quiet strength. "No matter what you've done."