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Kaito can see the end coming and was determined to watch its arrival. He wanted it to wash over him in huge swathes, like the swell of the ocean and its salty water cooling his too-hot skin. The end is coming, and now he’s watching even though he feels not-quite-in-control of his own body.
For a moment when he sees the press descending above him, he thinks that Kokichi might not keep his word. This might be the perfect murder, of smashing a corpse beyond recognition. Maybe if someone got up close, someone would be able to tell—because of the clothes or something. He couldn’t even imagine Maki, the consummate body enthusiast, examining a corpse that looked more like a bunch of undigested meat than a recognizable human figure.
“C’mon, don’t look like that,” Kokichi’s ever-smug voice chimed from nearby. “You can trust me!”
Kaito couldn’t quite muster a response.
The press kept lowering. Kaito watched helplessly as it came lower and lower, blocking out light, and Kokichi—he was humming.
Kaito’s heart pounded in his chest, as desperate to escape as he was.
The press reached the tip of his nose.
Then, it stopped. All was quiet.
“Okey dokey,” Kokichi chimed. “We can switch places now.”
The breath Kaito held released. He scooted sideways, eager to get out from underneath the overwhelming weight of the press before Kokichi changed his mind. He crashed rather unceremoniously out into the open, relieved to be feeling the cool air against his skin, smothering the lava in his veins and soothing his nerves for a brief, wonderful second.
Leaving his coat behind, he straightened up, not wanting to be off guard while Kokichi was still in striking distance. He looked towards the control panel, but Kokichi had already moved.
He was sitting on the lowest steps and poking at the fresh wound on his right arm.
What the hell was he doing? Weren’t they on a time limit? Kaito came over as casually as he could in such a situation.
Kokichi looked up at him, eyes shining.
“Eager to get me on my death march, huh?” Kokichi joked.
“Don’t call it that,” said Kaito.
“Fine, fine, my goodbye party, then.”
“Stop.”
“My final siesta? My bon voyage? My execution? Man, I wonder how Monokuma would’ve executed me if I'd killed someone. Guess we’ll never find out, will we?” He sighed. “Disappointing. I know you’re desperate to get this sordid affair over with, but we have a few minutes to relax and ponder life’s meaning. It only gets hard to breathe when I walk.”
“Knock it off, you moron!”
“M—Moron? Who you calling a moron? Have some respect for the walking dead.”
“You’re not dead yet, so I have no reason to feel guilty. Moron.”
Kokichi laughed in his usual, high-pitched, irritating, uniquely Kokichi sort of way. The laughter flew into the rafters and faded with an echo.
After Kokichi went quiet, Kaito frowned and looked off towards the offline Exisals, wondering how comfortable it would be in there and if he’d have to witness the whole sordid affair of the others discovering the corpse in the press. No, not just any corpse. Kokichi’s corpse. Except they wouldn’t know that and it would become as big a mystery as everything else that had been since the killing game first began. All this and Kaito felt a small twinge of regret that he wasn’t going to watch the mystery unravel after the trial, that he wasn’t going to be with Shuichi and Maki and all the rest as they found hopes in the depths of despair.
It was then that Kaito heard a wretched, ugly sound, like a cat being squeezed until all the life sucked out of it. Kaito searched for the source...
...And to his surprise he realized that the sound had come from Kokichi.
At first, he thought that Kokichi was going to vomit. What did happened, however, was much worse.
Fat, ugly tears fell unashamedly down Kokichi’s pale face. Visually, it was a truly awful sight to see an almost-grown man reduced to a bubbling mess of tears and snot. The sound was worse, though. A gut-wrenching, spine-tingling, choking noise that made Kaito want to puke his own guts out then and there. Kokichi crouched over, pinching the bridge of his nose and covering his lower face, as if he could hope to hide the tears cascading over his pale fingers. Kokichi was pale enough to begin with and that was before blood loss and poison slowly killed him.
“Wha—What?” Kaito blinked. “What—shit, man! Shit!”
It was apparent that Kokichi wasn’t in a state to respond, for all he did was give Kaito the most strained smile he’d ever seen.
Kaito let Kokichi carry on like that for...he wasn’t sure how long. He knew it couldn’t be too long, because too long and Kokichi would be overcome by the poison. How long did they have until the poison killed? Minutes? Was he going to have to wrestle a semi-conscious body into the press?
He really didn’t want to do that. Kaito felt dirty enough going along with Kokichi’s insane plans.
Before now, Kokichi’s crying, whether crocodile tears or not, had been vocal, loud, and impossible to not notice. He'd wanted the attention, even revelled in it. The only time Kaito had wondered if he was sincere or not was right before Gonta's execution. But now, with the sounds he was making, it was clear that he was trying to cover up the noise, trying to disguise it. Trying to disguise the truth? Who knew. If Kaito knew Kokichi, he had to be faking it. Still, it was abnormally distracting, particularly when there was an agenda to be had and so little time to put all the puzzle pieces in place.
Heck, now he was thinking like Kokichi.
Kaito struggled with what he should do. Should he be pragmatic and throw Kokichi in the press? Should he wait for the poison to take him out? Give him a good kick and see if that made him come to his senses?
Fucking hell.
Letting out a long sigh, Kaito took a cautious step forward. When Kokichi didn’t stop him, probably blinded by the overwhelming amount of tears still building up in his eyes, he took another step.
The steps were narrow, but Kaito managed to squeeze in beside Kokichi, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the pathetic boy who’d lied, manipulated, cheated, orchestrated not one, but two murders including his own, and done nothing but run circles around the Ultimates. The same boy who Shuichi had mocked, saying that he was ‘alone’ and no one would ever stick up for him because he kept them at bay with his intricate web of misinformation and games. Sometimes Kaito regretted being a nice, upstanding sort of guy because Kokichi didn’t deserve any sympathy. If Kaito was someone like Maki, he would have some of his emotions conveniently blocked off in a place where they wouldn't interfere. Kokichi didn't deserve sympathy. Not at all. Not in the least. Not the slightest ounce of sympathy.
Then again, maybe none of them did. They were murderers. Ryoma had been an outright criminal even before the killing game. None of them were saints.
Kaito went to pat his back. When he remembered the scarlet blood staining his white coat, he went for the head and gave it a gentle pet. It occurred to him that Kokichi must have nice shampoo, because it was silky and conditioned to perfection.
Kokichi froze at the contact. When he didn’t respond, Kaito kept petting.
The sobbing and hiccuping came to a steady halt, though there was no end to the waterworks.
There wasn’t time for this. If it got to the point where Kokichi couldn’t walk, Kaito would have to drag him to the press. He did not want to have to do that, not when he was still trying to reconcile his ethical boundaries with having to finish Kokichi off with a hydraulic press.
He’d have to make sure. He had to be sure. For his own immortal soul if nothing else.
“You’ve thought this through, right?” Kaito asked.
Kokichi hiccuped, wiped his nose on his sleeve—gross—and stared at the floor. “Are you doubting my talent as the Ultimate Supreme Leader?”
“Well—it’s just, once—y’know...it happens...that’s it. No take-backs.”
“W—What?” Kokichi peered up at him with mock, childlike glee. “Y—You mean death is permanent? Hate to break it to you, but it’s a little late for take-backs.”
Somehow that sent a flare of frustration and anger through Kaito.
“Yeah, well you can at least take something seriously for once in your goddamn life,” Kaito snapped.
“I am taking this seriously. In fact, I’m overjoyed. These are tears of true happiness. Now I don’t have to be bored anymore and, better yet, I don’t have to be subjected to your stupidity.”
Kaito stopped petting his head and instead gave Kokichi’s fat skull a good slap. Kokichi nearly about fell off the stairs and only managed to regain his balance by grabbing the railing.
“Ow, that’s rude,” Kokichi whined.
“Fuck you,” Kaito growled. “Fuck you and your fucking plans and your fucking ideas. You’re too smart for your own good and you flaunt it around for everyone to see, always pullin’ the strings and actin’ like a jackass. I was feeling sorry for you, but I take it all back now. You’re a jackass and you deserve this because if you’d acted like a normal human being, then none of this would've happen and you wouldn’t have to die.”
Kokichi smiled, reached forwards, and pinched Kaito’s cheeks. “Aw, you say mean things, but I know you love me.”
Kaito smacked his hands away. “Are you fucking serious? I just said that I hate your guts!”
“And in no uncertain terms, either.”
“What? So the ugly tears? It’s not because you’re sad that you’re gonna die?”
“I said,” Kokichi stressed, “that these are tears of joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. Take a good look, Kaito. You’re looking at the happiest man alive.”
“Your mouth says one thing, your eyes say something else. I’m not as good at detecting lies as you, yeah. I still know when someone’s yankin’ me around, trying to hide from his own feelings. I dunno—I dunno why. Maybe you’re scared of facing the truth, maybe you’ve always been terrified of that. Maybe you just want to keep everyone at bay and not get too close—for whatever fucking reason that is. You can take your goddamn secrets to the grave. I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re hiding; it’ll all come out in the end anyway. Seeing as you planned out for advance, maybe for my sake, to make this whole business of having to kill you easier on me, you can give me some goddamn sign that you have one ounce of humanity left in you.”
"You think I planned this?" Kokichi asked. "You think I planned for Maki to hit me with a poisoned arrow?"
Kaito considered it. "I dunno. Maybe. Maybe you weren't specific on the details, but I'm wondering if you planned to live."
Kokichi blinked up at him, his response stunted, whether because of the poison or the blood loss.
“Wouldn’t the opposite be true?” Kokichi suggested tentatively.
“W—What? What do you mean?"
“Yeesh, I’m the one dying, but you’re the one not making any sense. If we go by your logic, then if I show—what was it you called it? Humanity. If I show humanity, it’ll be easier for you to kill me. That seems completely contradictory. Wouldn’t you say that it’s easier to step on an ant than to kill a human being because ants don’t have pesky things like abstract thought? Ergo, if my behaviour is closer to an ant, or some unsympathetic liar, wouldn’t it make it easier to kill me? I know you’ve wanted to punch me for a long time.”
He snapped his fingers.
“Damn, almost forgot,” he sighed. “If you want to fulfill your fantasy of hitting yours truly, this is your chance. I'll give you one free swing! It's not every day someone gets to mess up this beautiful face.”
When Kaito didn’t answer, Kokichi tugged at his sleeve.
“C’mon, just hit me!” Kokichi urged. “One little punch?”
“I’m not going to hit you,” said Kaito.
“Fine, fine, but you’re missing out. Just ask Maki. I’m sure she’ll tell you how great it is to cause me great bodily harm, though I guess you hit the jackpot today, am I right?”
“So this doesn’t upset you,” Kaito asked. “You’re not scared of dying?”
“Eh, living’s overrated, especially in this shit storm,” Kokichi shrugged. “Yup, I feel more sorry for you guys than I do for me.”
The tears suggested otherwise.
“Do you like clowns?” Kokichi asked.
“What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a sincere inquiry. Humour me—do you like clowns?”
“Does anyone like clowns?”
Kokichi analyzed his face, and burst into laughter. “What would you say if my super evil organization was actually just a bunch of clowns?”
“I’d say you were lying.”
“Ah, you’re learning. Good job, Kaito.”
“I think the poison is getting to you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe. Still...might be a bit afraid of dying. Just a little. Who isn’t? I mean, survival instinct. Mankind wouldn’t have gotten far without that pesky need to live, though I almost want to think that we were dead the moment those bastards put us in this goddamn cage. I’ve never been good at staying confined.”
That, Kaito could believe. “Yeah, I can relate.”
“That’s why you wanted to go to space, right?”
Kaito shrugged. “There were a lot of reasons. I suppose it doesn’t really matter now.”
“Heh, if you inflate your head enough, maybe you’ll be able to float up into space.”
Kaito let the jab slide. This time.
"I want to give Monokuma a big middle finger," Kokichi said, voice quiet and trembling. "A big, fat middle finger. That's what this is. Yeah."
They sat in silence. The tears were receding. Kokichi wiped his nose on his sleeve a few times. When he pulled back, there was a scarlet smudge. A trickle of blood ran out of Kokichi’s nose and he stuck out his tongue to probe at the trail.
“Gross,” Kaito groaned. “Just...blow your nose or whatever.”
“Can’t,” Kokichi croaked. “Can’t leave unnecessary evidence.”
“I could get rid of—”
“Can’t take the chance. I didn’t get this far because I relied on other people.”
“Maybe if you had this wouldn’t be necessary!”
Kokichi looked at him evenly. He’d given up on trying to suppress the blood coming out of his nose and let it flow down his face to meld with the snot and tears.
“Are you gonna say something or what?!” Kaito exclaimed. “That whole thing with the tears—was that the real you?”
Kokichi smiled faintly. “And now you’re doubting reality? Are you sure that antidote worked?”
“Ugh, I give up. I can’t talk to you. You’re...impossible. It’s a wonder no one killed you!”
“...Until now.”
Kaito twisted his neck so fast it was a wonder it didn’t break right then and there. He wished it had—and spared him the agony of another class trial.
“You’ll follow the script, right?” Kokichi asked, suddenly serious. “You’ll finish the trial?”
“Not like I got a choice,” Kaito said.
“Promise,” Kokichi said lowly, eyes darkening. “Promise that you’ll follow the script and see the trial through to the end. Promise me!”
“What the hell? After everything you’ve done, I don’t have to promise you anything. I’m cooperating. What more do you want?”
“I don’t—shit. Just look me in the eye...and promise.”
Kaito did look him in the eye.
For the first time, he thought he saw the flicker of the real Kokichi Oma, the one so well-buried in his lies that he couldn’t determine truth from fiction, so inconsolably broken by the killing game that he had no other purpose than to make his death march mean something. The Kokichi Oma who wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to his grave for a pointless cause, and Kokichi Oma who—maybe, somewhere well-buried and well-forgotten in some deep part of his soul—wanted one last fragment of comfort from the only person available to him.
“Okay,” said Kaito. “I promise.”
“You promise?” Kokichi echoed.
“I promise,” Kaito reiterated. "Not for your sake, though. I'm doing this for Maki and the others."
It was a partial lie, but in his final moments he wasn't about to let Kokichi get the satisfaction of a sliver of compassion. The tension in Kokichi’s shoulders released. Then, he gripped the railing in an iron grip and pulled himself up.
Kaito followed suit.
“No time like the present, I guess,” Kaito murmured half-heartedly. “I don’t know if—oof!”
Kokichi lunged forwards and wrapped his arms around his waist.
Kaito’s first response was to push him away. That's how he found out that that Kokichi had a vice-like grip. His second instinct was too faint from the shock, his vision swimming in and out of focus and an ungodly ringing in his ears, overwhelming his senses.
What if he had a weapon? What if this was the epitome of Kokichi’s master plan, to fake having real emotions and then stab him in the back? As discretely as he could, Kaito felt around to Kokichi’s hands to search for any trace of a knife. There was nothing. He even felt Kokichi laugh a little as he evidently realized what he was doing, only holding Kaito tighter and tighter until he thought he might have the breath squeezed right out of him.
Yet, Kaito was unable to refuse him.
Kaito’s hands hovered over Kokichi’s small frame, thoughts racing for first place. Push him away. Hold him closer. No, push him away. This is Kokichi Oma, Ultimate Supreme Leader, and he doesn’t deserve a lick of compassion.
What it came down to was that Kaito gently enveloped Kokichi, placing one hand on his shoulders above the wound and the other on the back of his head. Kokichi might’ve been crying again, he might’ve not, for any noise that came from him muffled as he buried his face into his chest. From that position, Kokichi must’ve been able to feel Kaito’s heart racing, struggling to contain itself in his chest as he swallowed anxiety and dread.
Ultimate Supreme Leader or not, mastermind or not, Kokichi had one quality about him that he simply couldn’t lie away.
It was that he was a human, and if there was one thing Kaito knew he had to take away from Kaede’s memory, it was that life was invaluable no matter the form.
Of course, the contact began to get uncomfortable after a minute passed without Kokichi making an effort to move. Kaito cleared his throat.
“This, ah, is gettin’ a bit weird,” Kaito complained.
Kokichi’s response was muffled.
“Speak up, man.”
Kokichi removed his face from his shirt and put his chin on his chest so that he could look straight up at Kaito with a sense of endless mischief sparkling in his features.
“I can’t walk,” Kokichi smiled. “Carry me?”
“Ugh, for crying out loud...”
Kaito didn’t carry him, but he did lend a lot of support and helped him limp over to the press. There had barely been enough room for Kaito to squeeze out of, but it wouldn't be too much problem for his accomplice. Kokichi pulled off his shirt and scarf.
“Welp, guess I’ll see you on the other side,” Kokichi sighed, handing his clothes to Kaito. “The coat was expensive. You can tell Maki that I expect for her to pay for my burial outfit, not that there won’t be much left of me. Hm...I guess you can put everything in a nice little pile and stick a nice shirt on it. Y’know, in the vague shape of a human form.”
“Don’t fucking say that, this is making me sick as it is,” Kaito groaned.
“Ha! Oh, and make sure it's a big funeral. Like, don't clump everyone in the games together. Give me something nice and grand with a lot of clowns."
Kokichi bent down to get under the press, his movements stiff as he fought against the wound on his back. Kaito grabbed his hand and helped him onto the platform, blood smearing across the metal as Kokichi shimmied underneath.
Once he was in place, Kokichi held onto his hand for a bit longer than necessary, and this time Kaito didn’t try to fight it.
“I’m sorry,” Kaito blurted out. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.
“Do it quickly,” Kokichi instructed him. “And remember: Maki’s paying for my burial outfit.”
Kokichi’s palm was sweaty. Or maybe that was Kaito. Maybe a little of both.
Kaito mustered the courage to let go and walked with shaky legs back to the platform. He positioned one hand over the button that would lower the press and the other over the pause button on the camera.
His hands were trembling.
This was it.
This was what it was like to snuff out a human life. Had this been what Kaede felt? Kirumi? Gonta? Kiyo—the crazy motherfucker? As easy as pressing a button. This was what a human life had been relegated to, and even if it was just Kokichi, Kaede’s haunting declaration about the validity of a life echoed all around him, mocking him from beyond the grave.
He was still shaking, and he started when he heard a determined voice strike out in the silence. As resolute as a katana, as steely as Kirumi Tojo's gaze, as terrified any human being would be facing death.
“Do it,” said Kokichi.
Kaito’s heart lodged in his throat, strangling his voice.
“Do it, Kaito!” Kokichi shouted, voice cracking.
Kaito could see the end coming and was determined to watch its arrival. But when the end came, he closed his eyes.