Chapter Text
“Is this thing on?” The voice of a young male sounded through the large, vacant room.
The boy curiously peered up at the camera. He attempted to touch it, but quickly realized that he couldn’t reach. He retracted his hand, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as a small, nervous smile made its way onto his lips.
“I-I’m Kokichi Ouma,” he started, clenching his fists slightly as a tad of confidence began to rise within him. His smile faded, his expression morphing into one of determination. “And I think I would be a perfect addition to Danganronpa!”
-
On a brisk, chilling winter night, I hurriedly ran back and forth between the kitchen and the front counter, urgently exchanging sweets for cash. Being that we were short staffed that night, I had quite the workload. Nonetheless, I threw on a smile and greeted each customer politely, always sure to deliver their sweets with care. For I knew, I didn’t have a choice.
I had a job at a very popular, well-respected bakery that was owned by my family. I had been working at the bakery since I entered high school, and I still retained the job by my twentieth birthday. Though I thoroughly enjoyed baking, I didn’t particularly like running the register or dealing with the customers—even though I gave off the illusion that I was skilled at customer service.
When I approached the counter with the current customer’s sweets, I heard the store door slowly creak open. Normally, customers would just barge in like it were their own home, but this customer appeared to be new. I narrowed my eyes slightly as I looked towards the door. A person in a baggy, black hoodie entered the store. They faced the floor as they entered the long line of customers—I couldn’t see their face at all. I shrugged my shoulders, ignoring the odd feeling in my gut as I returned my attention to the customer before me.
When the stranger in the hoodie finally made it to the front of the line, the strange feeling in my gut still hadn’t faltered. I curiously eyed the person, trying to get a look at their face, but to no avail. They held their head low, shoving their hands into their pockets.
“Five chocolate chip cookies and three glazed donuts,” the voice that left their lips was low and void of emotion. It sounded a bit familiar, yet also different. Strange.
“Alright, just a moment please,” I said, forcing a smile upon my face.
Once I grabbed the arrangement of sweets, I set the bag on the counter. Just when I was about to tell them the total, they snatched the bag off the counter and sprinted towards the door. On impulse, I hurried behind the thief, not thinking things through in the slightest.
“S/N! Cover for me! I’ll take care of this!” I yelled as I exited the bakery.
I hurried behind the thief, my breathing becoming rapid as I kept my eyes on the target. As the thief was running, the hood of their hoodie was blown back, revealing the back of their head. I gazed at the person’s long, purple locks gliding in the wind. Somehow, I felt like I had seen those same locks years ago, but where? My running slowed a bit as I became distracted by my thoughts, but soon enough I shook my head and charged forward with all my might.
“Why are you still running?!” I yelled, exasperation evident in my voice. “Come on, stop already!”
I continued to follow behind as we entered an alley. I could feel my blood run cold as the shadows of the buildings cast a dark shadow over the both of us. Regardless of my nerves, my determination hadn’t faltered—I had to catch this person no matter what. In the back of my mind, there was something about them that I found familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Not only did I want to confront the thief about their actions, but I wanted to see who this person was—I wanted to know their story. For some reason, the aura of mystery that they were shrouded in drew me in.
As the chase continued, I noticed a dead end ahead. The thief slowed their pace and approached the wall of the left building, seemingly ready to try and dupe me. I lunged forward, grabbing onto the thief’s wrist as they tried to turn around and escape. When I grabbed their wrist, I caught eyes with the thief, or rather, male. His tired, shocked violet eyes sucked me in. His hair was messy and a bit long—shades of purple and blue, he had pale, white skin—so pale it almost looked like a light gray, and he was a normal, average height—his body thin. There was no mistaking who this person was. It was Kokichi Ouma, one of the participants in the killing game that took place several years ago. He looked older now—he had obviously had a growth spurt.
-
“___!” My sister shouted as I walked in the door, impatiently slapping the spot next to her on the couch. “You promised you would watch with me tonight.”
“I know, I know, S/N” I stated, placing my keys on the counter before entering the living room. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding it. Now that I have both school and work, things have been a bit hectic. I think I’m finally getting used to it though.”
“It’s fine, just sit down already,” she said, an excited grin on her face. “You just have to see my favorite character!”
I lazily sat down next to my sister. When my eyes met the screen, a short, purple-haired boy with a checkered scarf immediately caught my eye. He was toying with the other characters’ emotions, and overall, just acting untrustworthy and manipulative.
“So, the bad guy is your favorite, right?” I teased, nudging her shoulder playfully.
“___, how dare you!” She yelled, obviously annoyed by my words. “Kokichi Ouma is not bad. He has good intentions. This act is all part of his plan.” She paused for a moment, placing her finger to her chin and flashing me an embarrassed smile. “Or at least, that’s my interpretation.”
“Okay,” I said, laughing lightly. “If you say so.”
“Even though you definitely just misjudged his character, you were right—he is best boy,” she said.
“Best boy? He looks pretty young,” I replied blandly, lazily propping my arm on the couch. “So, you like them younger?”
“He’s your age, you know,” she said, narrowing her eyes with an annoyed frown. “So, he’s a few years older than me.”
“Hm,” I placed my finger to my chin, beginning to think like my sister. “So, I’m guessing he’s so small because he’s malnourished and neglected.”
“Maybe...” She said, sounding unsure of her words as she cocked her head to the side as she peered at me. “I know you said that as a joke, but it makes sense,” she paused for a few seconds, returning her eyes to the screen. “Even though this is just a show, I’m not so sure you should joke about things like that, ___.”
-
“Hurry up and let go,” I heard the low, annoyed voice of the boy before me. I shook my head lightly, noticing the scowl on his face. “Ugh,” he let out a sigh, tugging his arm as my grip tightened.
“You’re Kokichi Ouma,” I stated, surprise lacing my voice. “From Danganronpa.”
“I guess,” he paused, sounding defeated as he shifted his eyes for a second, then returned his gaze. “I’ll never live it down.”
“You’re basically a celebrity, and yet you feel the need to steal?” I spoke, biting my lip in vexation. My grip tightened on his wrist, almost drawing blood. “Why? You’re an actor, aren’t you?”
“Are you really that ignorant?” A ‘tch’ sound escaped his mouth, his eyes full of frustration and bitterness. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Everything we faced in that killing game was a simulation.” He averted his eyes, biting his lip. “Our memories and talents may have been lies, but the pain we felt was real.”
“A simulation?” I questioned. I placed my finger to my chin, confusion enveloping me. “T-that can’t...” I trailed off, a wave of regret swallowing me up. “No,” I muttered.
I wasn’t actually a fan of Danganronpa, but I did watch it with my sister from time to time. Since she talked about the killing game often, some facts about the game had been embedded into my mind. She found Kokichi’s character intriguing, so she talked about him often, which led to me having a decent understanding of Danganronpa and his character. Even though I didn’t have the same level of knowledge as my sister or Dangaronpa fans, it was plain to see that the Kokichi standing before me was not the same. He may have had similarities, but he was clearly different. He said their memories and talents were lies, so were they manipulated into believing those were the truth? My sister and I believed that the game was entirely fictional, so we didn’t think the game was harmful. When you expose real life people to a realistic simuation, it’s just...sick.
As I became lost in thought, my grip on the boy’s wrist loosened. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, he pushed me roughly, causing me to fall backwards. Stunned, I stared up at the boy, a painful groan escaping my lips. For a second, a hint of regret flashed in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by a disdainful stare.
“That game ruined my life,” he spoke sternly, refusing to look at me. “Sick fans like you don’t give a damn about what happens after the game…” The boy turned and began exiting the alley, but paused after a few steps, “So long as you were entertained.”
“My sister is a fan of Danganronpa, that’s why I know so much,” I blurted out. I stood up from the ground, dusting the dirt off my clothes as I eyed the boy’s back. “I’m not actually a fan o-”
“I don’t want to hear your lies,” he said, cutting off my words. His voice was cold and distant. “I’m sick of lies.” He turned back around, the look in his eyes as cold as his voice. His orbs had become dull, looking almost like someone had drained the color from them. As he locked eyes with me once more, he dropped the bag of sweets in front of him. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
And with that, the boy turned away and continued towards the alley’s exit. He lazily threw his hood over his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered ahead. I placed my hand to my chest, feeling it begin to tighten. In that moment, I ended up sympathizing with the thief that had stolen from my family’s bakery—the victim of killing game simulation.
My sister sympathized with the killing game Kokichi, while I was beginning to sympathize with the real Kokichi. The words that escaped his lips sounded genuine. The game version of Kokichi would lie left and right, but I believed the real Kokichi had told me the truth. Maybe they were polar opposites, or perhaps the game Kokichi used lies to cover up what the real Kokichi displays voluntarily? Or, perhaps, none of those theories were correct? Kokichi was human after all—things weren’t so black and white.
I watched as Kokichi’s form began to disappear into the distance. I hesitantly reached my hand out, feeling as if I wanted to call out to him. It was no use—there was nothing I could say to fix the situation at hand. I retracted my hand, letting a sorrowful sigh escape my lips. Was it really okay for me to just let him walk away?
“No,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll find him again tomorrow.” A strong, determined smile graced my lips. “I mean, it would be rude if he didn’t eat these sweets,” I paused for a few seconds, my hand returning to my chest. “Because they are a gift from me.” Once those words left my lips, I felt something cold, and slightly wet, land on my cheek. I looked up, noticing that the snow had finally arrived—the first snow this winter.
-
“And that’s why you have to pick me for Danganronpa!” The boy eyed the camera, a look of desperation in his eyes. He tightened his fists, biting down on his lip. “If you choose me, I promise I won’t be boring.”