Chapter Text
As Kaito held Ouma and limped over to the pressing machine, Kokichi stayed quiet. He knew his plan was brilliant, why wouldn't it be? But he still had room for doubt in his mind. What if the plan failed? What if Monokuma figures it all out? In his brain, he could imagine Monokuma over his dead body, laughing that same horrible laugh.
“Are you okay?” Kaito asked. His face held genuine concern for him. Ouma wanted scream ‘no’ in his face but he couldn't do that. Not when Kaito agreed to kill him.
“I'm fine,” he smiled, “you should worry about yourself.” As soon as he said that, He fell and started to cough up blood onto the cold floor.
“Ouma!” Kaito yelled. He was going to dive towards him, but Ouma had enough of Kaito helping him.
He held up a hand, signaling that he was fine, and then he raised himself up.
“Let’s get on with it,” Ouma coughed.
Kaito didn’t look convinced, but he reluctantly gave up.
As Ouma’s plan setted in motion, his stomach felt like it was falling. Especially after he filmed Kaito’s “death.” After he paused both of the camera and the press machine, Ouma looked over to see Kaito under the press machine. Kaito seemed to be terrified. He was staring right at the cold press machine with his starry eyes. But then he finally blinked out of it.
Kaito got out and carried Ouma in his arms. Ouma was so tired; he could feel the poison running through his veins. He gripped Kaito with all of his strength, with wasn’t much at this point. As he was dying, Ouma felt despair. He wanted to have just a little more time. Maybe he should have been nicer to the others. Maybe he could have told the truth. Either way, there was no turning back.
As Kaito placed him on the press machine, the only thing that kept him warm was Kaito’s coat. Its warmth travelled into him like the sun. However, when Ouma looked up, he immediately got terrified. The silver press loomed right over him. He couldn't help but feel claustrophobic as he swallowed the remains of his saliva.
Kaito moved towards the camera, although he looked terrible. He had a pained expression on his face, clearly worried and nervous about killing somebody.
Ouma couldn't understand. Why is he so scared? Didn't he want to kill him? In the end, the hero always killed the villain. Once this is over, Kaito would have saved Maki and stopped this damn game. He would still be loved.
At the camera, Kaito looked down at him.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” Ouma replied.
“You sure?” He asked, “you know, you can't go back on this. Once you're dead, you're… well, dead.”
In Ouma’s head, he was internally screaming in terror. He wished this was all just a lie, but no. This is the hard truth.
Ouma smiled as he looked back.
“Of course I know that,” he replied, putting on a facade of a smile, “I told you, I will do anything to end this game.”
Kaito didn't reply. He stood there in silence, looking at the press controls to Ouma.
“Alright then,” Kaito sighed.
Ouma forced himself a bigger smile back at Kaito. He was so scared now. But this is for ending the game, once and for all.
“Hey Kaito?” Ouma panicked.
The astronaut looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.
Ouma knew this was a weird question, but he had to ask.
“I-I… wasn't a boring, was I?”
Kaito looked puzzled from the question. He bit his lip, and tried to think of a good reply.
“I don't think you were the nicest,” he started, “but I'm sure you weren't boring.”
Ouma smiled, a legitimate smile from happiness. He could die now, in peace. He never was very religious or spiritual, but right now, he felt like his soul will move on.
“Thank you.”
That was the last thing Ouma ever said before being crushed by the press machine.
~*~
Ouma was falling. That's all he knew. He couldn't tell if he was in heaven or hell. But all that he knew is that he had to be dead.
Right?
Ouma’s head felt terrible. It was like a migraine, but a thousand times worse for him. As he opened his eyes, he rubbed his forehead; the obvious headache started to hurt. With his groggy eyes, he noticed he was in a white room in a bed. More specifically, a hospital bed.
That was when he noticed himself.
He had an IV through his hand’s veins, with a sticky bandage wrapped around it. He had a white hospital gown on, which was patterned with blue. On his mouth, he had a giant breathing tube that breathed air into him.
He noticed on his right that there was a bundle of bouquets on a table. The ones on top were fresh and vibrant while some on the bottom were rotting, evidence of their old age.
He noticed a little card propped next to the flowers. It looked elegant yet simple. The card read:
Thank you for your efforts in the 53rd Season of Danganronpa! We are unfortunate that you have lost this round and that you will not receive the prize of one billion dollars. But don't worry! There's always another chance to participate in our annual show of Danganronpa.
“Danganronpa?” Ouma thought. “What the heck is-”
Suddenly, Ouma remembered everything. From the body discovery announcement to his final moments of his planned fate. Everything flashed in his mind.
He could remember how he acted. He was such a brat that he disgusted himself. He purposely lied about everything and even killed Iruma. It was so different from how he used to be. Yet, his lies came out so naturally. As if they were really true.
Why couldn't he die? He was supposed to vanish right after his plan. That would have been the perfect solution to the end of Danganronpa.
He was a killer. He killed both Gonta and Iruma. He ruined everyone's lives. He laughed at people dying without any mercy. He was evil. He was a liar. He was the worst person on the earth. .
He couldn't help it. Kokichi screamed.