Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kokichi doesn’t believe in an afterlife.

He’s not religious at all, actually. Growing up poor without any rich people around to string him along sort of robbed him of that mindset. He doesn’t believe in God, or the angels, and he certainly doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell. As Kaito helps him lie down underneath the press, Kokichi isn’t thinking about where he’s going to end up. He’s not thinking about the afterwards at all, really. All he can think about is pain, in his shoulder and in his back, and how weird it is that Kaito’s jacket, which is spread out beneath him, is still warm. He closes his eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath through his nose, and thinks about how sharp his blood smells, and strangely his shoulder and back aren’t hurting anymore. He’s not even scared of what’s going to happen when that press lowers down.

But he has a throbbing headache, and he really wishes that would go away.

Kaito’s footsteps are far too loud, and far too slow. Kokichi has half a mind to crack open desert dry lips and tell the moron to speed things along, because the electrobomb isn’t going to last forever, but any reason for Kaito to hurry up at this point would just be paranoia. They’ve got plenty of time left, Kokichi knows, and he’s not even going to be alive for the rest of the process.

(The thought isn’t scary, but it’s a little bit sad; he’s leaving the fate of countless children after him in the hands of a bumbling astronaut with a higher opinion of himself than is perhaps deserved.)

It’s not fair for him to be snarky at all right now, though, not when Kaito is dirtying his hands for his sake. In fact, Kaito isn’t even here for him, he’s here for Maki, who is most certainly going to be executed unless Kaito kills him right now. Kaito is essentially his hostage, and Kokichi would be more hung up about that had Gonta’s execution not left him numb and bitter, exhausted by games and ready for all of this to be over. Actually, it’s doubly not fair to Kaito because his plan will still work if everyone is executed. If his plan works, and Kaito jumps out of that exisal even though everyone agreed that he’s Kokichi, Monokuma could still choose to kill everybody. Whatever he thinks will save their ratings.

What Kokichi is banking on is that it won’t. Because even if everyone dies, he will still have beat the mastermind. Monokuma will still have agreed with everyone else and said that the culprit was Kokichi. Whatever messed up audience that’s still out there will see that this game is flawed. (Has been, from the beginning, what with those desperate attempts to make someone commit a murder back when Kaede was alive. Kokichi… doesn’t really want to think about Kaede right now, though, because they’ve got too much in common.) Kaito probably won’t be able to handle that. So maybe despite everything, despite the fact that Kokichi is going to die in less than five minutes, his plan will still fail.

From the top of the stairs, Kaito says something, and Kokichi has to strain himself to hear it. Even with that, Kaito has to repeat himself twice for it to be heard.

“I’m sorry.” Well, that’s hardly any good now that Kokichi is about to die. (But maybe that’s why he has to say it.) “If I could’ve understood sooner, I…”

“Idealistic and stupid until the end, huh?” Kokichi smiles, and finds that he can’t quite muster the same snark as usual. He turns his head so that he can’t see even a little bit of Kaito’s pants, staring at the press, which is close enough to him that if he extends a hand, he can lay his palm flat. (As Kokichi contemplates what else to say, he does just that.) “This is the only way to end it, you know that, right? We’re in a killing game. In order to prove that the game is flawed,” and his voice breaks, which is really stupid, because he came to terms with this back before Ryoma was killed, “someone needs to die.”

There’s silence from Kaito’s end, and for a minute Kokichi thinks he’s just gonna lower the press down onto him without saying anything else, which would honestly be easier than forcing one last conversation. Unfortunately, as much as Kaito is an idiot, he has a heart. Even for someone like Kokichi. “Is there anything that I can-” he pauses, and Kokichi practically hears his hesitation. “That I can do… when we get out? When we get back to the outside world? Anybody you want me to talk to? Or…”

With a note of bitterness, Kokichi thinks, everyone who I remember probably isn’t even real, bucko, but in lieu of saying that, he presses his lips together. Kaito is probably gonna die, anyway. He can let the dude die without ever knowing that. It’s barely a mercy considering everything that Kokichi has done. “Nah. You really think there’d be anyone out there for someone like me?” And then, before Kaito can protest, he adds, “Just press the button, Momota,” and screws his eyes shut. His words carry a lot more conviction than he feels.

He’s half expecting Kaito to talk again, to say something else in a lame attempt at sentimentality, but then there’s a click, and-

Kokichi wakes up.

Well, he doesn’t wake up, not in the traditional sense. But that’s the best way to describe what happens to him. For a moment he’s totally convinced that he’s in some kind of afterlife, and damn, that means he was completely wrong with his stance on religion, but-

Unless he’s in Hell (which is totally plausible, by the way, so he hasn’t ruled it out yet) he’s not really sure why he’d have such a pounding headache. He’s having a difficult time breathing, actually, and he can’t see anything. It’s like there’s something around his face, making it hard for him to suck in breaths. Kokichi scrunches up his face, fluttering his eyelashes and dragging his eyes back and forth across what should be the spot in front of him, but- no, it’s completely dark, he can’t see anything at all. He kicks one of his legs, frustrated, and when his leg lands, he realises that he’s lying down.

He lifts his foot again and drops it back down, testing the pliancy of the surface that he’s lying on. It’s soft, obviously, but that could be any number of things. Kokichi lifts his arms, feeling his brow furrow, and finds that he’s not restrained. He presses one of his hands into the cushion beneath him, and while it’s obvious now that he’s lying on some kind of mattress, it comes away slick with sweat, and- ew. He must’ve been lying here for a while.

(Which tells him that he’s probably not in any kind of afterlife.)

He’s obviously not still under that press, though. Kokichi reaches up with both of his hands, bending his elbows when he feels something right above him. His chest constricts, strangely, when he feels it, but he squashes that down because while it’s smooth and cool (though wet with condensation, likely from his breathing, which means he’s been in here for a while), it’s more like plastic, or maybe glass, than steel. He’s not under that dumb press. Kokichi edges his hands over to the sides until they knock against the walls on either side of him. He doesn’t even have space to extend his arms all the way. What he’s in is… kind of shaped like a casket, actually, but he’s not going to panic about that because for him to be in a casket wouldn’t make any sense. Nevermind that caskets aren’t ever (in the history of ever) topped with glass or plastic, even if they were, there’d be nothing of him left to put in a casket, anyway. He was supposed to have been crushed completely.

Use your brain, Ouma, he thinks bitterly, and begins feeling along the sides of the box that he’s in. About at his hips, he feels a latch on his left side, but he retracts his fingers quickly so as not to change anything. Before he gets out of here he needs to account for the fact that he still can’t see anything. Kokichi drags his knuckles along the top of the box and reaches up to touch his face.

Instead of feeling his face, though, his hands end up sliding along another smooth surface. It’s round, dome-like, and it makes him think of an astronaut helmet, even though he’s not sure that that’s really how those work. Kokichi furrows his brow, and then it occurs to him that he’s wearing a helmet. (This really isn’t one of his better moments.) The box that he’s lying in probably isn’t even dark. To an outsider he’d probably look like a moron, feeling all over the place while neglecting to take off the dumb helmet. Kokichi tries to sit up a little bit, but before he can even bend his torso the helmet knocks against the top of the box that he’s in, and he sighs. He’ll probably have to get out of this stupid box before he can take off the stupid helmet. But that means he’ll have to do that without his eyes.

He bites his lip to keep from complaining (as there is no one here for him to complain to, that he knows of, and he would look very stupid if there is someone here) and instead moves his hand back to that latch that he found earlier. He digs his fingernails into it, feeling around for some kind of button, or something to use to open the dumb box, but before he makes any real progress-

There’s a popping noise, like a release, and then Kokichi is hit with a wave of cool air. He shivers, suddenly aware of how warm it was in there. The top of the box must have opened, because when he reaches up there isn’t anything for his hand to touch, but he still can’t see anything, which is infuriating. Whatever kind of helmet is on his head, the visor must be opaque.

“Ouma? Can you hear me?” A familiar voice, but Kokichi is too tired to place it. It’s someone from the killing game, though, someone he hasn’t heard in a while, which means they’re probably dead, which means that the chances of this being some sort of effed up after life have suddenly increased. “I don’t remember if the helmets cut off hearing too, Akamatsu, do you-”

“I can hear you,” Kokichi blurts, and he’s startled by how hoarse his voice sounds. Talking hurts a bit, too, and he swallows saliva in a tempt to soothe his throat. It’s like he hasn’t spoken in a while, or something, which is ridiculous, because he was literally talking right before he died. (A strange sentence, but he can’t say that these are exactly the circumstances for judgement of any kind.) His tongue darts out from between his lips and he realises how dry they are. Suddenly he’s glad for the helmet, because whoever is out there looking at him can’t see him licking his lips like some kind of middle schooler with anxiety. “Or maybe I can’t, and that was just a lie based on what I thought you were saying.” He adds, but finds that it’s hard to muster the same mischief as he would usually put into the statement.

A sigh from outside, and Kokichi finds himself smiling, though he’s not sure if it’s simply out of habit or because he really feels like smiling. “You must be feeling better than I did, if you’re cracking jokes already.” A higher voice says, and Kokichi places this one as Kaede’s, but probably only because the lower, raspier voice from before (probably Rantaro’s, now that he thinks about it, and that makes his heart beat like crazy for reasons he doesn’t want to get into) said her name. She sounds like she’s smiling, though it’s a bit begrudging, like she’s trying not to be endeared but she can’t help it. “Do you need help sitting up?” And Kokichi doesn’t have any time to answer before there’s a warm hand placed on his shoulder, and then a couple other hands on his other side, and he’s being guided to sit up.

“Stay still, hm? It hurts a bit coming off,” comes in a third voice, and Kokichi nearly balks. “Angie still has a killer headache from it and she took hers off days ago!” Before Kokichi can ask what she means (though he’s pretty sure that she’s talking about the helmet, which is extremely heavy now that he’s sitting up) there is movement behind him, and then another one of those odd popping sounds, except around his head. Despite what Angie warns, there isn’t much pain as the helmet comes off; rather, a gentle pinching feeling against his forehead, followed by a dull throb in his temples, but mostly he feels relief, in his shoulders, and on his head, when the weight is lifted.

He has to squeeze his eyes shut, though, grasping onto the sleeve of someone steadying him, at the light that floods in when the helmet is gone. He’s wincing, and he tries not to make any noises, because that would just be humiliating, but he can’t stop a quiet whimper from leaving his throat. The light hurts far worse than the helmet does. His head is pounding and even through his eyelids, everything is red and dizzying.

“Breathe, Ouma,” Rantaro’s voice soothes, one of his hands massaging his shoulders. Kokichi leans into it without meaning to, startled by how nice the touch feels. The sleeve that he’s clutching must be Kaede’s, because one of her hands closes over his. They’re noticeably smaller than Rantaro’s, but soft and warm, and she’s rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “It gets better after a moment.”

Kokichi sincerely doubts that, but before he can say as much, the light seems to dim down a little bit, and the throbbing subsides. He takes a chance and sucks in a breath, forcing himself to slow down and savour the oxygen that fills his lungs. The air inside of that box (and inside the helmet, no less) was stale, and it smelled bad, like sweat. He probably smells terrible, actually, and looks terrible, too, because he’s definitely sweating from every pore in his body and all the moisture is making him shiver in the cold of the air outside of the box.

“Are you okay?” Kaede’s voice this time, a hushed mezzo soprano, and Kokichi never let himself think it during that dumb game, but she sounds awfully kind. His grip tightens a bit on her sleeve. “Are you cold? He’s shivering, Yonaga, can you-”

“Mhmm,” and with little warning, something is draped around Kokichi’s shoulders. It smells sweet, like some kind of tropical fruit, and he guesses that it’s a jacket of Angie’s, though it’s much too soft to be her rain coat from the game. It’s this thought that spurs him to open his eyes, blinking dizzily in a stupid attempt at adjusting to how sharp the lights are around him. The jacket that’s resting over him is yellow, naturally, but less sharp on his eyes than the jacket he’s used to seeing on Angie, more like a custard shade. It’s a sweatshirt with a zipper in the middle, though quite large, as is to be expected of Angie with her long rain jacket. After drinking in the sight of it, Kokichi’s gaze moves to his right, and he looks down at the hands that are holding his.

Kaede is dressed like she just woke up, in a pink sweatshirt (though this one does not have a hood) and paler sweat pants. She has her music note hair clip, but her blonde hair is braided and out of her face. In the game, Kaede’s hair smelled like honeysuckle- which Kokichi found out through standing near her a couple of times- but she smells more like generic shampoo at the moment. Her touch is as gentle as is to be expected of a pianist, though, and she smiles at him when he meets her plum eyes. Kokichi looks over to Rantaro, who is still bracing him with a hand on his back, and finds himself pulling a blank when he meets the other boy’s green eyes.

It’s strange that the roof of his mouth is suddenly feeling so dry considering that he didn’t have the same reaction to Kaede or Angie, but suddenly all he’s thinking of is Rantaro’s body in the library, lying on his side with a pool of pink blood large beneath him. He looked so excruciatingly still, back then, and his eyes were closed, but right now his eyes are open, albeit half-lidded, and he’s gazing at him with a relaxed smile on his face. Kokichi had almost forgotten the exact shade of green of his eyes, replaced it for other things, like plans and carefully constructed lies, and it’s a bit jarring to see him now, looking so calm and alive. He still has all of that jewelery, but all he’s wearing right now is a long-sleeved grey t-shirt and black pants, which seems unfathomable to Kokichi considering how cold it is.

His attention snaps over to Angie when she bounces over, dropping herself in front of Kokichi on the mattress in the box. She looks more alive than Kaede or Rantaro, and the sight of her is less out-of-place, somehow, because Kokichi can vividly remember her being alive. Her blue eyes are sparkling and she’s got a wide, friendly smile on her face. Rather than that odd bikini she wore during the game, Angie is wearing a white t-shirt and shorts, and when he glances at her feet, he notices that she’s wearing socks without any shoes at all. Platinum blonde hair pools in her lap when she tilts her head to the side and it occurs to Kokichi that she’s let it out, rather than tying it into pigtails like she did the whole time he knew her.

Before he says anything, Kokichi takes a minute to look around at his surroundings, because observing the three who are near him has calmed him down a fair amount. The box that he’s sitting him is definitely shaped like a casket, and somewhere off to his right the lid has been thrown. It’s green, he notices, and turned over onto its back. When he notices the lingering condensation on the top, he tears his eyes away and looks up. The ceiling is tall, far taller than he’s used to in the Ultimate Academy, and dark. He can’t see where the ceiling is, exactly, though he suspects that dark grey pipes and wires are running along it, because that’s what makes sense to him. The floor is a dark blue, and glows a bit, making everything seem a bit bluish, and some ways off on both of his sides, there are what appear to be other caskets, other boxes like his, with similar green lids; though, the one on his left is empty, the lid tucked neatly into the side, and the one on his right… has the lid on top, glowing green. There are boxes like this around the room in a circle, Kokichi supposes, though he can’t see all of them from where he’s sitting.

The most prominent feature of the space is the large blue structure right in front of him. He grips Kaede’s arm a bit and pushes himself up onto his knees to see a bit better, and confirms to himself that there are lines leading up to the thing. It’s like… well, he would compare it to the supercomputer from the game, the one on the fourth floor, except that it’s… a bit different. There are computer screens all around the base of the structure, and he’s a bit too far away to make out any details, but what the screens are showing is that it’s nighttime. It takes a moment to realise that they’re showing the Ultimate Academy.

Honestly, Kokichi doesn’t even know where to begin. He releases Kaede’s sleeve, and she pulls her hands away accordingly, perhaps suspecting that he doesn’t want to be touched. Rantaro retracts his hands too, but Kokichi almost wishes that he wouldn’t, and that Kaede wouldn’t either, because without them holding him up he feels unsteady.

“It was a simulation.” Kaede says, without preface. He looks over at her, his eyes wide, and she manages a weak smile. “Sorry, I’d… lead up into it, but…” she trails off, and then shakes her head. “The point is, none of it was real. That’s why we’re all here. This isn’t an afterlife. I… thought it was some kind of afterlife. But it’s not.”

“We’re at Team Danganronpa headquarters, at the moment.” Rantaro adds, and when Kokichi glances at him, he’s wearing a rueful smile. “Uh, you probably don’t know what Team Danganronpa is, but…” he pauses. “We can explain as little or as much as you want to know right now, I just figure those are… the basics.”

“Huh.” Kokichi doesn’t really understand. (Is Danganronpa even a word?) But as he reaches up to rub his eyes, he finds that he has a more important question that he wants to ask. “So, is everyone else…”

“They are all alive and well!” Angie confirms. “Oh, actually, well might be a bit of an exaggeration. Korekiyo finds it difficult to leave his room, and Tenko has crying fits at times over Himiko being all alone, and-” she purses her lips. “Actually, perhaps nobody is doing well right now.” She huffs. “But alive! We are all alive.” She nods, as though certain of this fact. “It was all in this strange virtual reality thing. I find it- annoying, that God did not tell me as much, but, alas…”

“They’d be here too, to greet you, but we didn’t want to overwhelm you with a big group.” Kaede explains softly. “Actually, we’ve been sending in one person at a time to be there when people woke up, because that feels more manageable, but- well, all three of us wanted to be here when you got up. It wouldn’t have been fair if any of us had been absent.”

“Oh yeah?” Kokichi raises an eyebrow. That’s weird to him, because if those computer screens over there have been showing the game, then he doubts that anybody would want to be here when he wakes up. The person who killed Gonta, and Miu, and who pretended to be the mastermind and manipulated Kaito- he’s having a hard time believing that they don’t all hate him. Rantaro and Kaede are soft, and Angie’s religion probably doesn’t let her be harsh on people who want forgiveness, but even them, he just can’t fathom the idea that…

“I know when I woke up,” Kaede looks over at Rantaro, a meaningful look on her face. (Rantaro’s smile diminishes, turns into something more sympathetic.) “I broke down because I failed.”

“Oh, yes, yes, Angie too,” Angie nods quickly. “It was rather embarrassing.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But it was worse knowing that I wasn’t able to do it than knowing that I was exposing myself to everybody.”

“Since we know how it feels, we wanted to be here to support you.” Kaede’s gaze returns to Kokichi. “Because I don’t think anyone should have to deal with it alone.”

Frowning, Kokichi asks, “What are you talking about?” The look that Kaede gives him doesn’t reveal anything, so he continues. “Failed what? Deal with what? What are you here to comfort me about? I think I missed the memo on that one.” He wants to tell a lie, or something, give them a grin and a giggle and bounce out of the room, but that would require knowing what they’re talking about. Kokichi still doesn’t have any idea what’s going on. It’s infuriating, actually.

“Stopping the killing game.” Rantaro speaks up, and Kokichi looks over at him, feeling his mouth dry out all over again. “That’s what we all died trying to do, and when we woke up, knowing that we failed, it-”

“Failed.” Kokichi interrupts.

“That’s right,” Kaede says quietly. “You couldn’t watch the trial.”

“The trial.” Kokichi repeats. “You mean that- Momota-”

“He did well.” Rantaro cuts in. “I had no idea who was in the exisal. If he hadn’t jumped out of it, I don’t think that I would’ve-”

“Jumped out of it?” Kokichi feels his chest tightening. “What are you talking about.” It’s hardly a question. “Did he- what did he do? Did he reveal himself too early? Did he mess up a line?” His voice is raising, he can’t help it; what Kaede and Rantaro and Angie are saying is that they’re here to comfort him, because his plan to end the killing game failed, just like theirs, and that’s- he doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to do about it. How is he supposed to respond?

“Shuichi put eeeverything together!” Angie says, and though her tone suggests that she’s being enthusiastic, her eyes are dull and empty, like she is feeling no joy from the words that she’s speaking. “He figured out every single detail and then told it all to everyone, in one of those closing arguments that he does.” She sighs. “After that, though, he tried to flip sides again, and convince Monokuma that it was actually you in there, but-”

But then Kaito climbed out, probably, because at that point it was too late anyway. Angie doesn’t say that, but that’s what Kokichi puts together in his head. He’s not sure what to say, what he’s even going to say, if he’s going to shut down and curl up into himself and lie and force smiles and start laughing over nothing, or if he’s going to scream and throw something like he wants to, destroy the simulation and everyone in it, burn the whole building to the ground. How exactly is he supposed to react to this? Every word he spoke in that god-forsaken killing game, everything he thought about, every piece of evidence he snuck off early to drag to his room, he did it so that he could execute this plan. Those stupid letters on that stupid rock, he wrote them all one by one, biding his time until he could go forward. He planned out his own suicide, he killed his best friend, he made a monster out of himself and chased away every single person who could’ve possibly cared about him in there-

And for what?

What ends up happening is that Kokichi says nothing at all. His eyes glaze over and he slumps down a little, filled with emotions to the point where he just stops functioning. His brain stops working and his heart pounds heavy and painful in his chest. Everything he did in the simulation was to end the killing game, only for it to fuck up magnificently because he didn’t account for some dumb smart detective.

“Ouma, do you need a minute?” Kaede’s voice is quiet, too quiet, and half of Kokichi wants to scream at her but the other part, the rapidly turning indifferent part, tells him there’d be no point. It’s not Kaede’s fault, anyway. If there’s anyone that he really can’t blame, it’d be the three people in front of him, because unlike those useless shmucks still in the simulation, they actually tried to end the killing game. Sure, Kaede is a murderer, and Angie is a cult leader, and Rantaro is a coward, but after everything he did, Kokichi can’t claim to be superior to any of them.

“Perhaps it would be best if we gave him some space.” Angie reaches out to him but her hand stops before it lands on his face, and Kokichi finds himself grateful that it does, because he’s not entirely sure that he wouldn’t bite her, if she tried to touch him right now. “Kokichi, call out when you are done processing, alright? Someone will hear you, they will come.”

Angie climbs out of the box, and tucks herself into Kaede’s side. The pianist slides an arm around Angie’s shoulders, and glances at Rantaro, who waves them on. “Be with you in a second.” He says, and Kaede nods, offering a smile and a gentle, I’m sorry, in Kokichi’s direction, before she and Angie start to walk away.

They’re hardly even a few meters away before Rantaro looks at Kokichi to speak. “For what it’s worth, you…” he pauses for a minute, floundering for words. “Nevermind. I don’t think anything I could say right now could stand even a slight chance of making this any better.” He smiles, but it’s a sad smile, and something inside of Kokichi crumbles. “You did a number on everyone here. Even if… even if in the simulation, they don’t understand… we do. Uhm,” he hesitates. “I do. You didn’t deserve it, Ouma.”

Kokichi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even know if anything would come out if he tried. Rantaro looks at him for a moment longer, his gaze sad, and then gets to his feet.

“Talk to me anytime.” He says. “I’m more than happy to explain everything so that you don’t have to hear it from some Team Danganronpa worker, yeah? I’ll see you around.” With that, Rantaro turns, and he starts to walk away.

(And then Kokichi is thinking about it, and his brain starts to move again, and he thinks about all those chances he got from Gonta, despite lying to him over and over again, and how Miu made him those inventions without having to be coerced, and how Kaede never said a mean word to him despite all his cruelty, and how Shuichi spent all that time with him despite his tricks and his games, and Kiibo put up with endless teasing and in the end Kaito supported all his weight on the way to the press, helped him get off his shirt, delicately laid him underneath the press, promised that the plan would be executed correctly-)

Suddenly Kokichi is lurching forward, to edge of the box, and he reaches out, a wild grab for Rantaro; Angie’s jacket slips from his shoulders but he catches the boy’s wrist and holds tight. Words form and die in his throat and what escapes instead is a wheeze of a sob, something unintelligible and Kokichi doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.

“Ouma?” It’s Rantaro’s voice, but through blurry eyes Kokichi sees that Angie and Kaede stop, turning around, and suddenly he’s crying, and he really doesn’t know why because that’s not the way he wanted to react at all, but then he’s being engulfed in warmth and it registers (somewhere) that Rantaro is hugging him, tight enough that it’s almost like Rantaro is the one who needs it, despite Kokichi being the one bawling his eyes out. He hears footsteps, vaguely, which sound like they’re underwater, and then his back is supported, and there’s weight on the cushion beneath his knees, and he shudders and buries his face into Rantaro’s chest because he doesn’t want them to see him crying like this, blubbery and red faced and probably so very childish.

(The way he couldn’t let himself cry after watching Gonta’s execution, the way he couldn’t let himself cry in front of Kaito, the way he wanted to cry practically every second of being trapped in that school but couldn’t because that would be showing weakness and weakness, in a game like that, is essentially a death sentence.)

“Breathe, breathe,” Kaede’s voice, probably, and Kokichi shakes his head because he doesn’t really know how to do that right now. He chokes though, and then he’s coughing hoarsely, and he’d probably throw up if there was anything in his stomach. Instead he gags, breathing in dry air, and lifts his face from Rantaro’s chest to suck in a real lungful of oxygen.

He tries to say something, but it comes out broken again, just like what he tried to say before, and a hand on his shoulder (big enough that it can only belong to Rantaro) squeezes tight but not painful. “Shh, Ouma, I got you,” he assures gently, and Kokichi rolls his lips in between his teeth, thinking that he must look pathetic.

But eventually he stops sobbing, either because his voice runs out or because he loses the urge, and his shuddering cries turn into an occasional hiccup and silent tears, and then finally those run dry too because he only has so many, but he can’t make himself let go of Rantaro, nor can he shove off Kaede or Angie, because they’re all keeping him upright when he’d probably just fall to the ground if he was on his own. Instead of collapsing in on himself Kokichi melts, dissolving into nothing in their arms, and he finds that he doesn’t have the energy to put himself back together again. Not this time.

But it seems like the arms around him are holding him together, sort of, so maybe it’s alright to stay in pieces for the moment.

Chapter Text

When Kokichi wakes up the second time, he finds that he can see.

Actually, he can see pretty well. The darkness from that box he was lying in before (which Kaede must have referred to as a pod earlier because that’s the name that’s coming to mind at this point) would be so completely alien where he is now, it feels more like a distant memory. The oppressive warmth and humidity of the pod all feels really vague and warped, like a dream he had several years ago. He knows that it was real, though, because the white walls that are making everything seem so incredibly bright belong in a hospital room, and the tube that he’s hooked up to suggests that he’s malnourished. Which would make sense, after being in a simulation for however long.

He doesn’t remember being brought in here, though. After breaking down, he must’ve passed out, or at least spaced out, because everything that happened from that point onward is pretty fuzzy. He doesn’t think he was entirely unconscious, because he has a vague recollection of Angie talking to him, and the back and forth motion of being carried (probably by Rantaro) before the lighting changed and he closed his eyes to block it out. But he definitely wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings, or else he’d be less disoriented upon waking up.

Shaking his head against the pillow, Kokichi drags himself into a sitting position. His limbs refuse to cooperate with him for a long, scary moment, and he thinks that maybe not using them for so long has rendered them useless, but then his arms shift and his legs bend and he manages to prop himself up against the head of the hospital bed. He’s alright. His joints feel stiff and his arms and legs are impossibly heavy but that’s something that happens even when he sleeps for too long, so it’s okay. When he reaches up to rub his eyes with the palms of his hands, his finds the motion doesn’t hurt, or even ache, but the sensation of his own hands on his own eyes feel distant, alien. Cold and unfamiliar. His hands are cold and a little bit damp.

There’s a throbbing in the back of his head, near where it meets his neck, and in his temples too, but it’s not very incessant and Angie mentioned something earlier about it not going away for a while, so Kokichi figures there’s nothing he can do about it and moves on. He’s dealt with much worse pain before. In truth, the blaring white light of this room is absolutely unbearable and it’s his bigger concern at the moment.

Speaking of this room, Kokichi figures he ought to take stock of his surroundings. Kaede, Rantaro, and Angie seemed fine when he saw them, if a little bit sad. Angie mentioned Korekiyo and Tenko very briefly, but the way she described it their problems were all emotional. (And no kidding, either. Poor Tenko.) As much as Kokichi doesn’t like the implications of them all being stuck here- which is what it sounded like, though none of them gave any information once he started bawling- he doesn’t think he’s in any immediate danger. Even if Kaede was a murderer in the simulation, she has an unquestionably good heart and she would tell him, for sure, if there was something suspicious going on. He didn’t get the impression that she was ever being dishonest, either, when she was there in front of him, so he opts to go with it.

The walls, now that Kokichi is looking directly at them, are actually off-white, but it doesn’t make them any less painful to look at. The corner of his lip presses flat and he makes a conscious effort to relax it, wary of showing any emotions (beyond what he has already) in a place where he might be being monitored. There’s a tapestry hanging on the wall to Kokichi’s right, but it’s entirely black and white, except for a jagged red shape in the middle, and- well, that actually looks a lot like Monokuma, so before bile can rise in his throat he tears away his gaze and looks elsewhere.

For a minute Kokichi is questioning why Korekiyo would refuse to leave his hospital room, because the amount of white in here is actually extremely nauseating, but then his eyes land on the small, plastic potted plant next to the door. The leaves are a deep green, and without a doubt they’re fake, but the splash of colour sets him at ease. The shade reminds him of Gonta, in a way, and it’s sort of a sad thought so he tries to shake it off, but…

It’s not like Gonta is dead. Angie said everyone is alive, so that’s got to include the entomologist. Kokichi brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes and finds that it’s a bit wet with sweat but for the most part gross, unwashed. He follows the strand to the back of his neck and realises that it’s all matted and disgusting. The feeling that gives him is unpleasant, because he likes to take good care of his hair, but he’s sure there’s some kind of shower here, because Rantaro, Angie, and Kaede all smelled fine. Good, even. Nothing like people who have gone weeks without showering. (Nothing like Kokichi, right now.)

It’s just, the thought of actually talking to Gonta is… a little bit overwhelming. He should, obviously, there are a lot of things that he needs to say to the guy. Apologies he should’ve given back when Ryoma died, thanks he should’ve given when Gonta stuck by him (in the place of anyone else), even just kinder words and a pinch of honesty to make up for all that manipulation. It had to be done, obviously, Kokichi isn’t gonna change his mind on that- he had to do all of it because he had to make everyone hate him- but he still feels awful.

The plan didn’t even work, either. Kokichi refuses to start crying again, because it’s embarrassing enough that he had a full-on meltdown earlier, but the thought still makes him want to screw up his face and bury it in the infuriatingly white blanket that is covering his legs. (He settles for clenching fistfuls of it in his lap.) He used and betrayed Gonta, got him killed, even, and the stupid plan didn’t even work.

Kokichi bites the inside of his cheek. What was it Rantaro said before about where they are? Team Danganronpa Headquarters? What’s Danganronpa, anyhow?

Well, alright. That isn’t a question that he needs to ask. He could figure it out if he took a minute. And actually, he has a minute. Maybe several. Maybe too many to waste time on counting.

Obviously, that killing game was a simulation. Strange because he doesn’t even remember being put into a simulation, but it makes sense. The word began and ended within the Ultimate Academy. There was even a big, obnoxious dome over their heads which turned colour during the day and during the night. That tunnel didn’t lead out of the dome, clearly, it just led into another room which was made up to look like some sort of barren wasteland of an outside. If Kokichi had held his breath and tried to go out into it, he probably would’ve passed out anyway, long before he ran out of breath, and woke back up with the door closed. There’s nothing beyond the dome. That’s where the world ends. Just like in Miu’s virtual world, except at the Ultimate Academy, their avatars were way more realistic, and the world probably didn’t loop. It just straight up ended.

If the simulation was hosted by some group called Team Danganronpa, then they are definitely the ones responsible. The killing game is a television show of sorts, a fucked-up twisted reality show with a really large and really expectant audience, so that must make Team Danganronpa the producers of the show. They probably controlled Monokuma from computers outside, or maybe he was even his own AI. Either possibility makes sense to Kokichi. It would certainly explain discrepancies in the bear’s behaviour. And if the Ultimate Academy was a simulation, then it would make sense why the academy was seemingly built just for them, and why random buildings and rooms would pop up if they were touched or activated with some kind of artifact.

Essentially, at the moment, Kokichi is in the home-base of the people who are responsible for the killing game. And so is everyone else, everyone who died in the simulation and everyone who is still trapped in it. He grits his teeth. This is stupid. Why haven’t Kaede and people made any attempts to get out? Out of everyone, at least Kirumi would be capable of that, right? And Gonta is super strong, surely he could-

It occurs to Kokichi, out of nowhere, that Kaede, Angie, and Rantaro were waiting at his side when he woke up, and those thoughts immediately drift out the window. Making any escape attempts was probably out of the question for Kaede, and everyone else would listen to her, even if people like Tenko and Gonta weren’t bound to insist that they stay for the very same reason. They’re waiting for everyone to wake up. They’ve been waiting- most of all, Kaede and Rantaro have been waiting- for every single one of them to wake up and get out of that simulation so they could take them with. Nobody’s getting left behind this time. Something, something, we can all be friends once we get out of here. It’s stupid how happy the thought makes Kokichi so he squashes it down. He needs to focus on being angry at Team Danganronpa, because he can do the most when he’s angry. That’s how he managed all the lying and mind games in the simulation, by crushing down his empathy and focusing on the pure, burning red-hot rage at the people who were keeping them captive there for entertainment. Every time he wanted to feel bad for somebody, or make them feel better, he reminded himself of his disgust and hatred towards killing, and all the resolve resurfaced.

This same anger is what made it possible for Kokichi to betray his best friend, but he chooses to ignore that for now.

The rage fuels him enough to rip the IV out of his arm, wincing a bit at the pain but shaking it off. His arm is bleeding a little bit now, but it’s fine. If he was hooked up to begin with, then Team Danganronpa is going to want him alive. He doesn’t have to prioritise his own survival right at this moment, not until he knows for sure that he’s in danger. Kokichi swings his legs around to the edge of the bed, exhaling sharply at the exertion, and finds that his feet are bare. They, at least, aren’t cold, and the air in the room isn’t exactly warm, but he just wiggles his toes to get his blood circulating and plants his feet on the floor. It’s carpeted, which seems an odd choice for a hospital room, but whatever.

When Kokichi stands himself up, he takes another look around the room. There’s a pale beige chair next to the wall near the door, and a cart with various medical instruments lying on top… along with a change of clothes. He glances down at himself, notices that he’s wearing an ugly washed out green hospital gown, and decides that maybe he’d better put them on. The clothes are simple, just a white sweatshirt (without a hood) and purple sweat pants, and when he pulls them on he finds a black and white checkered scarf at the bottom of the pile, which he’s glad to see but a little insulted, because it seems like Team Danganronpa is giving him clothes that are casual but will still mimic his character.

(He puts on the scarf anyway, though, because he feels naked without it.)

After tying the scarf into a square knot under his hair, Kokichi finds himself wishing that he had socks. It’s okay, though. He’ll just be careful where he steps. And anyway, his feet are turning so cold that he’s pretty sure he’s not even gonna feel it if he does step on anything bad.

He does one last sweep of the room before walking to the door. He’ll probably be back later. He hasn’t been moving much, or even standing for very long, but he already feels really dizzy. Since he’s fueling himself with anger right now, Kokichi’s prime objective is finding some Team Danganronpa person who he can yell at, but he’d probably settle for another one of his friends. (Friends.) Maybe Korekiyo is exempt from that considering how weird that trial was, but if he’s not leaving his room anyway, there’s not much of a chance that Kokichi will see him. The thought makes him feel a little bit guilty, but he’s just being honest. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever been a particularly kind person, and he’d be lying if he said he’s totally comfortable with the prospect of running into the anthropologist during this trip through the place.

Upon stepping into the hallway, Kokichi notices that it’s a lot darker, and a lot colder. The tile under his feet is cool and would be pleasant if he was just emerging from the pod, but as things are it sends shivers through his body. He’s actually been… pretty cold, since waking up from that simulation. He sees green for a moment, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, but when he finally does, he notices that his surroundings resemble the room that he woke up in. There are doors lining the hall; he counts sixteen of them and turns around to look at the one behind him. Near his eye level, there’s a plaque with his name on it, as well as a tiny white chess piece, perhaps to represent his talent. The piece is a knight, which only furthers his suspicions that this is the case, because the knight is his favourite piece.

Curious, Kokichi turns around again, facing the door directly across from him. He’s not very good with kanji, but based on the katakana in Angie’s given name, he determines that the door belongs to her; also, there’s a yellow paintbrush beneath her name, so considering that she’s the Ultimate Artist, he probably could’ve figured it out.

There are sixteen rooms here. Team Danganronpa is probably planning on accommodating all of them. Kokichi isn’t sure whether to be angry or relieved by this information. Instead of reacting either way, he moves to the middle of the hallway and scans the doors up and down the hall. After a moment of searching, his gaze catches on the door he’s looking for. Out of everyone in that group of people, there was only one person whose name he bothered to learn how to read, and he’s not even awake yet. Which means that there’d be no point to his going into the room.

Regardless, Kokichi walks up to the door labeled “Shuichi Saihara” (with the black icon of the hat so befitting to Shuichi underneath) and twists the knob. Part of him is expecting it to be locked, but it isn’t. It turns easily underneath his palm. (Not that it would matter, if it was locked, because even though he doesn’t have his needles on hand he could find a way to pick the lock, but the fact that it isn’t makes everything a bit easier.) It’s kind of unnerving, actually, that this is going to be so easy for him. After struggling so much and for so long during the stupid killing game, he… was expecting this to battle him too. But it’s not.

The room, Kokichi finds when he opens the door, is completely empty. Of course it is. The intended occupant isn’t awake yet, so there’d be no reason for anyone to be here. But the fact that the room is so vacant is a bit… scary isn’t the right word, perhaps unsettling would be better… or maybe just weird. He hasn’t known Shuichi for long, obviously, but it wasn’t hard to think of the other boy as a constant. Someone who would always be there, regardless. Shuichi just didn’t seem like someone who would ever be out of Kokichi’s immediate reach. He was there consistently, always a short walk away from Kokichi’s room. Seeing a room with his name on it be so empty… makes the blaring white of the walls seem a distant annoyance compared to the real uncomfortable things about the space.

He’s wary of letting the door close behind him, so Kokichi grabs a pair of scissors from the cart near the (empty) bed and jams them under the door. It works as far as keeping the door open goes, and he doesn’t really care to respect anything that belongs to Team Danganronpa, so he considers that a win. He turns back around after that, looking around the room. There are clothes folded on the cart here too, a dark blue shirt and sweatpants, as well as a hat similar to the one Shuichi wore in the simulation. Kokichi can’t help himself, so he reaches out and takes it, feeling the rough material of the fabric under his fingers and wondering why the simple sensation of touch is so different now from how it was in the simulation.

Of course, he didn’t notice it while he was in it. Everything felt perfectly normal while he was there. Feeling and sensation were exactly the same as they had always been. Except that the simulation missed the tiny details, like the tiny ache every time he inhales too hard, or the way that resting his weight on one leg for too long makes him sore and he has to switch or even things out. It missed out on the feeling of each individual fiber on the hat, and the exact way it feels when goosebumps rise on his skin, and the pain in his eyes when he moves them around too much and too fast.

It doesn’t feel real, either, none of the simulation does. It feels like some distant, far-off dream that he can no longer remember entirely. Even though his head is still pounding with the vivid image of that press coming down, and the hatred in Shuichi’s eyes after Gonta’s trial, and the fear that shot through him when Maki emerged from that exisal… even though he still remembers, in high definition, how it felt watching Monokid’s head roll over by their feet, and bright pink blood pooling underneath Kirumi’s body, and that insect, driving its spike through Gonta’s…

Kokichi sets down the hat, realises that he had picked it up, and wipes at his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s crying again. He thought he cried all of that out with Kaede and Rantaro and Angie, earlier. None of this makes any sense to him and his head really hurts. He’d like to sit down, but going back to his room isn’t an option at the moment and sitting down on Shuichi’s bed feels like a violation, like tainting something pure, like taking what isn’t his. It’s just sitting down on a mattress, but it’s like there are bars in front of him, preventing him from taking that seat. Maybe he’d better go somewhere else.

As Kokichi turns around, he realises that someone is standing in the doorway behind him. It’s startling that he didn’t hear them approach, but the jolt of fear in his chest dies down when he meets a pair of red eyes and realises that it’s only Gonta. (The fear, though, starts to turn into something else, something more bitter, as soon as that realisation starts to sink in.) Kokichi swallows. He’s not sure that he could manage a smile right now, or any lies, not in Shuichi’s room, not after seeing Gonta executed, not after forcing out laughter and cruel words (and violence, of all things) in the wake of that execution. His tongue feels heavy, and uncomfortable, like a mouthful of cotton, and his teeth are dry all of a sudden. He’s not sure what to say.

“Is Ouma alright?” Gonta’s voice feels different, in real life. It’s fundamentally the same voice, and if Kokichi heard it in a crowd, he’d definitely recognise it, but it’s just… strange how solid it feels. There’s something comforting about how gentle the entomologist’s manner of speaking is, despite having such a low voice. Kokichi chews the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t really… deserve, to be privy to that kindness. “Gonta figured he’d be here,” the other boy continues, glancing away. “After he saw that Ouma’s room was empty.”

“Of course I’m fine,” Kokichi manages to say, and curses the way his voice shakes, because based on the way that Gonta’s brows furrow, he’s not convincing at all. Pull it together, you’re a supreme leader! He chastises himself, but it doesn’t have much of an effect. He settles for clearing his voice and trying again. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m a supreme leader, after all, nishishi!” His voice breaks. Damn.

“You don’t sound alright,” Gonta says accusingly, and Kokichi notes the use of you, rather than his name, and wonders if there’s a reason for that. “In fact, you seem… pretty sad.” Sad. That’s not exactly the word he’d use, but he’s got the spirit… though, upon further reflection, Kokichi realises that he’s not really sure what the right would would be. Disoriented? Out of his depth? Traumatised? Deeefinitely not the last one, that one is even worse than sad. He frowns, and when it occurs to him that he’s frowning, he tries to smile instead, but the corners of his lips… don’t go up.

The idea of saying something, in fact, anything to Gonta that isn’t true right now… makes him want to cry, a little bit. And that’s not really an option, so he probably shouldn’t. It’s just that, lying is all he really knows how to do, and already countless explanations and lies are forming on his tongue, and maybe Gonta would even believe them, if Kokichi pulled it off properly, because if the entomologist was anything in that stupid simulation he was naive, and gullible, and… and Kokichi really really really doesn’t want to lie to him. There’s only one thing that he does want to say, actually, and it’s that he’s-

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk to Gonta.” Gonta says, which isn’t what Kokichi wants him to say at all, but he keeps his mouth shut for the moment. “He, uhm, after everything… understands.” The other boy averts his gaze and something inside of Kokichi folds in on itself. “Anyway, he wanted to come and talk to Ouma because Momota is awake, and he figured that Ouma would want to-”

“Gonta.” It comes out all disjointed and weird and honestly, Kokichi can’t remember if there was ever a moment during the game where he was honest with Gonta. Despite considering him his best friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Gonta looks startled at that, genuinely, and then Kokichi is kind of crying again, which is really stupid and also incredibly dumb. “What are you talking about?” And that’s such an idiotic question, Kokichi almost covers his mouth with his hand so that he doesn’t start sobbing right there. He absolutely can’t cry in front of the other boy, not only because it would be embarrassing but also because it would be terrible to cry while he’s apologising, because then Gonta would have no choice but to accept his apology (because that’s who Gonta is) and that’s just not fair, it really isn’t. “Gonta has already forgiven Ouma, haven’t we-”

“No.” Kokichi shakes his head. “That’s not fair, you can’t have forgiven me when I haven’t even said sorry yet.” He clears his throat. “I lied to you, and used you, over and over again, and after you died, I-” he can’t even make himself say it. He’s so pathetic, crying so much, but he-

“Gonta understands,” Gonta says softly.

“No, you don’t, don’t say that, you can’t just forgive me.” He inhales. “After I-”

“Ouma was trying to stop the killing game.”

“Well, yeah, but I-”

“I watched the trial.” Gonta interrupts again, and then Kokichi stops cold, because Gonta switching to first-person pronouns is jarring. “Momota explained how much you were planning, and he didn’t really get it, I don’t think. He just knew what you told him. But even back before Hoshi died, when you had me host the insect meet-and-greet, you were trying to end it, right?” Kokichi swallows.

“Of course, but-”

“Everything Ouma did was in an attempt to save everyone. Even if he did some bad things.” Gonta explains, quietly, like he’s talking to a young child. “So it’s okay. Gonta forgives you.”

“You fucking idiot, no,” Kokichi shakes his head. “You don’t get it, I wasn’t trying to save everybody. It would’ve been nice if everyone had lived, yeah, that would’ve been ideal, but I would’ve been okay if it if everyone was killed, too. If Monokuma executed everyone regardless. That wouldn’t have hurt my plan.” He feels his voice raising again, getting more strained and desperate, and he hates that, how he’s getting so worked up when Gonta is being so nice. “The goal was just to end the killing game, to take down the whole system and prevent it from happening again. Everyone’s lives were irrelevant to me, in the grand scheme of things.” And he’d do it again, too, he’d take every god-forsaken step again, because there’d be nothing else that he could do, put in another simulation. “And I used you to do it, I manipulated you and goaded you into committing a murder and then spat on your name after you were gone. For what? Some stupid fucking plan that failed?”

“Ouma,” Gonta looks sad. “You shouldn’t apologise to Gonta over things that you yourself are angry about. You already have Gonta’s forgiveness. The forgiveness that you’re looking for is going to come from yourself.”

And Kokichi isn’t even going to begin to unpack all of that, not right now, not when he already feels so bad. Instead, he just lets Gonta’s arms wrap around him in a hug, even though his mind is telling him that he needs to pull away, and tucks his face into the entomologist’s chest. This isn’t fair. He was crying earlier.

“Ouma can cry as long as he needs, okay? Everyone else is talking to Momota right now, so Ouma will get a chance later.” Gonta’s voice is still very quiet. Kokichi tries to gather himself enough to speak, but eventually he just screws his eyes shut. He’ll let himself have this. Even if it’s just for a moment. It’s jarring how real and solid Gonta is now, so… he doesn’t think he could stop himself from indulging in the embrace for a while, even if he wanted to.

Chapter Text

The tiles on the floor outside of Shuichi’s room are just as cold as they were earlier, but Kokichi’s feet feel stiff and numb from being left out for so long, so he barely notices. It’s brighter now, greenish-white lights having flickered on high above his head, and he can see that the tiles are an ugly washed out blue-green-grey colour. Some of them are cracked, but Kokichi thinks that’s due to age, rather than impact. He scuffs the balls of his right foot against the floor as he goes, frowning at the small mark of sweat it leaves behind.

“Gonta,” he speaks without really knowing what he’s going to say; partially to break the silence, which feels oppressive and thick even though he still has that light and fluffy feeling that comes from crying, but partially because they haven’t really said much (aside from, of course, the small are you okay after Kokichi had finished crying and the let’s just go that he gave in response) and it feels weird not to be talking after everything that happened. He’s missed Gonta, as in really truly genuinely missed him, because as much as he liked-- a weird word to use but true enough-- Shuichi and Himiko and Kiibo, none of them are like Gonta. Could be like Gonta, even if they tried. “Can you carry me? My feet are cooold,” he whines the last word, but it’s not necessary. The entomologist has already begun to lower himself down to allow Kokichi onto his back.

As Gonta straightens himself out, he comments, “Gonta found shoes by his bed when he woke up. It’s strange that Ouma didn’t have any.” He waits for Kokichi to get comfortable before he starts walking again. He’s a really considerate guy. Ridiculous how Kokichi wasn’t more aware of the fact before he (as in Gonta) died. But losing someone will do that to you, he supposes. “Maybe Ouma should ask? Or Gonta could ask for him, if he doesn’t want to talk to Team Danganronpa. That’s probably for the best,” the look Gonta gives now is sideways, and has to be such if Kokichi is going to see it, but it’s difficult to miss. “Gonta noticed that you’re bleeding?”

“Yeah! I can’t rub one out very well without a little bit of pain, y’know!” Kokichi grinned, and thankfully the expression felt more natural on his face than the smile he tried to force in front of Gonta earlier. The entomologist sighs, which makes him laugh. Gonta is a pretty innocent dude, but he’s also a scientist, so it’s not unbelievable that he’d know what Kokichi is alluding to.

“It looks like Ouma ripped out his IV,” Gonta says pointedly. It sounds like he’s trying not to smile. “That’s not very safe behaviour, you could get hurt.”

“I’m a supreme leader. Living on the edge is my specialty.” Kokichi feels the vibration through Gonta’s back when the entomologist snorts, and smiles, but doesn’t say anything else for the moment. He appreciates this, that he can just go straight back to bantering after that meltdown in Shuichi’s room. In all honesty he’s feeling kind of awkward about seeing Rantaro, Kaede, and Angie again… after they dealt with the fallout of his first breakdown. He’s not sure that they’re going to handle it as well as Gonta is now. Then again, he might be underestimating them. He definitely wasn’t expecting to be greeted with as much kindness as he was when he laid himself down underneath that press.

Of course, he wasn’t expecting to wake up again in general. Kokichi is still pretty sure that there’s no such thing as an afterlife. When he dies, and like, actually dies, as in for real, his heart stops beating and all of the things cease their functionality, it’ll just be nothingness. Maybe he’ll dream forever. That wouldn’t be so bad. Getting to spend the rest of eternity with a bunch of figments of his imagination, even while his physical form completely rots underground.

God, he hopes he isn’t buried in a coffin, though. After being under that stupid press and then waking up in that stupid pod, anything even remotely similar sounds terrifying. A tiny cage around his heart. Maybe that’s just claustrophobia settling in. Which would make sense, all things considered, but considering that Kokichi has been fine with the tiny enclosed spaces in the past, he doesn’t have any prior experience to draw from in confirming anything.

He’s still having some difficulty processing that it was all a simulation. Not in the way that, he thinks this is some elaborate hallucination that his brain came up with post mortem (things are too painful for that theory to be worth even a moment of his time) but it’s just, it’s hard to believe that everything he went through at the Ultimate Academy just… wasn’t real. Oh, it felt real, and everything that everyone did was real too, because that’s how free will works. Sure, none of their actions happened in the real world, but they all thought they did. It’s just difficult for Kokichi to believe that none of their actions are going to have any real repercussions.

And everyone, Rantaro, Kaede, Kirumi, Ryoma, Korekiyo, Tenko, Angie, Gonta, and… Miu, they’re all alive. Those dead body discoveries, and the trials and executions to follow, it was all in a fake world. Everyone is alive and kicking. (Not doing well, he remembers that Angie made sure to specify, but… kicking.)

“Gonta, have you talked to everyone yet?” Kokichi asks, tilting his head to the side and resting it on Gonta’s shoulder. The entomologist hums, and he feels it; low and strong against his chest.

“Not everyone.” Says Gonta finally. “He’s been trying to, but since waking up Shinguji has stayed in his room, and Chabashira won’t see anyone. Especially not the boys. Or Yonaga, actually.” Huh. Kokichi got the feeling there was some kind of conflict there, but it’s still weird that Tenko is turning away from one of the girls. “He’s talked to Iruma, though. She was there when he woke up. Hoshi too. And everyone else has been coming and going. Akamatsu has been trying to get everyone to eat together, but,” Gonta hesitates. “People haven’t really been listening to her. Normally they just do their own thing.”

Wow. Without him there to poke holes in Kaede’s powers of persuasion? Kokichi really underestimated this group and their capacity to be cruel. He messes with the shoulder of Gonta’s shirt, picking at a loose thread. They should all be eating together. None of that cheesy get along crap, that’s not the reason, but… eating together and forcing camaraderie is a lot better than everyone just sitting alone in their own rooms, stewing in their hatred and regrets from the simulation. Plus, it’s not really fair to Kaede for people to be adamant about it. She might have snapped and committed a murder, but only because she was really, really desperate to save everyone. That’s much better than what anyone else did by far. Including Kokichi.

“Gonta has been hoping that Momota waking up will help everyone listen to her, but Iruma says mean things when she’s upset, and she’s been saying a lot of angry things since the trial.” Gonta sounds a bit sad. “Toujo will go along with what everyone else wants, but she’s only been around when she’s been needed to do things for other people. Otherwise she’s been off by herself. Gonta thinks she feels guilty.” He’s awfully observant. Kokichi already knew that, but it’s easy to forget it with how much the guy dumbs himself down all the time. He has a really sharp eye. Kokichi should keep that at the front of his mind from now on. It’s an important thing to pay attention to.

“Huuuh.” Kokichi rests his chin atop his hands, and Gonta turns a corner. The room they enter is familiar, the one with all the pods, and all the computer screens. On the monitors, Kokichi can see the feed from several different rooms; one of the girl’s bathrooms, where Himiko is poking around, what seems to be his bedroom, with Maki and Shuichi sifting through blueprints, and the courtyard, which shows Kiibo flying around and… shooting things? Yikes, the guy really went full terrorist.

So the monitor screens are showing the simulation. Kokichi already gathered as much, but it’s nice to get confirmation. He tears away his eyes then, because looking at it too hard makes his chest ache. The room is filled with the sound of chatter, and when Kokichi follows it, he quickly finds the cause.

“Gonta!” It’s Angie’s voice. The artist pops up, peeking over the small cluster of people who are crowding around one of the pods, and beams at the both of them. “And Kokichi! Hooray, everyone is here!”

“The shota cunt finally shows his face!” Miu’s voice crackles a bit, and Kokichi relaxes his face into a neutral expression, scanning the group for the blonde. She’s near the edge, it seems, and her arms are folded across her stomach, but she doesn’t seem angry. She isn’t smiling, but she’s not scowling, either. Kokichi decides that this is a good thing. “What, the first thing you do when you get out is suck off Gonta? I mean, I know the guy’s totally hung, but-”

“Iruma!” Kaede sounds scandalised. She’s standing closest to the pod, but the people who were standing around her move out of the way a bit so that Kokichi can see her. (Everyone is here, he notes, just as Angie said. Except for Korekiyo, but he shouldn’t be surprised by this.) “Can you be a little bit more delicate, please?”

“Eee! Why do you call me out so much?” Miu sounds thoroughly chastised, even though, in Kokichi’s opinion, Kaede’s request is pretty reasonable.

“You can put me down, big guy,” Kokichi says quietly, and Gonta lowers him down to the floor. When he’s supporting his own weight, Kokichi spreads his arms, offering a wide grin. “What’s up, whore? Did you miss me?”

“Not a chance,” Miu scoffs. “I wouldn’t miss you if you bent me over and fucked me right here.”

“Like I’d want to get close enough to you to lay a finger on your slimy body, much less have sex.” Kokichi gags, but it’s exaggerated. He won’t say it to Miu unless she says it first, but he has missed her. And this. Even as she gasps and squeals, covering her face with a hand, Kokichi knows that it’s familiar to her too. Comforting in its predictability. He doesn’t have to be a gorgeous girl genius to know how these interactions are going to go.

“You guys are so vulgar,” Kaede pouts, crossing her arms, and Kokichi shoots her his most sincerely apologetic expression. “Don’t make that face at me! I know you’re faking at it!” The mock annoyance lasts for a moment longer before Kaede breaks into a reluctant smile, walking over and reaching out to ruffle Kokichi’s hair.

“Hey! HEY! I worked very hard to style this half an hour ago, you handsy woman!” Kokichi protests, ducking away from her touch. Kaede laughs, but retracts her hand, plum eyes sparkling. “Yeesh! I’m gone for all of four seconds and you guys figure out all sorts of different ways of annoying me!”

“I don’t think,” Ryoma’s low voice takes Kokichi off guard, but he isn’t surprised to see the (former) tennis pro pulling his hat down over his eyes. “That you’re in the position to be talking about being annoyed.”

“Aww! Hoshi is so mean!” Kokichi wobbles his lower lip and wills tears into his eyes, which isn’t all that hard after the cry he had into Gonta’s arms earlier. “Didn’t you miss me at all?” He sniffles, loud and obnoxious as he can muster, and Ryoma heaves a sigh. He doesn’t dignify the question with a response, which makes Kokichi grin. It’s comforting to know that not everyone is all mushy and gushy after that stunt he pulled in the simulation. Actually, speaking of mushy and gushy, where’s--

“Ouma,” Rantaro, the guy in question, beckons him over. He’s still standing right by the pod-- and, as a result, right by the person sitting inside of it, who Kokichi has been purposefully avoiding looking at this whole time. “Come over here.”

“Hmm, is that an order?”

“I figured you’d want to? It’s not like I’m telling you that you have to, but I--”

“Nishishi, that was a lie! I’m dying to see my beloved Momota!” Kokichi skips over to the pod, spins on his heel, and peers into Kaito’s face.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Wow. You, uh,” Kokichi pulls a blank, not really sure how to say what he’s thinking. “You look-”

“I know,” Kaito grumbles, touching his hair with one hand. “It looks dumb without the hair gel.”

As much as he thinks it might be in-character for him, Kokichi wasn’t actually planning on calling it dumb. He’s glad Kaito cut him off, actually, because in retrospect he doesn’t know what he was even gonna say. The astronaut’s hair looks deflated, that’s the best word for it; it’s still the same vivid purple that Kokichi remembers, but it hangs around his eyes, a bit damp with sweat and perhaps ratty and knotted in the back. It’s clear he’s been lying on it for quite some time. If anything, Kokichi thinks that Kaito looks almost worse than he must have upon waking up from the simulation, because his skin tone breaks right through pallid into sheet-white levels of paleness. It’s scary, but what’s a bit reassuring is the flush in his cheeks, probably as a result of the quick temperature change between the warm humidity of the pod (that which Kokichi remembers oh-so-well) and the chilly dryness of the room.

It’s weird, too, seeing Kaito in so few layers as he is currently wearing, in just a tank-top and basketball shorts, his feet bare but tucked under his knees and dragged in close to his chest. He looks exhausted, really, radiates it almost as much as he radiates the gross stuffiness that Kokichi was living when he first woke up. There are red marks around hs eyes (still a piercing lilac) that must be from the headset. Kokichi notices that it’s been placed on the floor by Ryoma’s feet, so it doesn’t take much to figure out who took it off for the guy.

As it occurs to Kokichi that he’s been standing here silently for far too long, he clears his throat in a feeble attempt at hinting to Kaito that he can say something more. When the other boy doesn’t, he releases what might be a sigh and does so himself. “Kinda hard to pull the hero shtick without the fancy space-print jacket, huh?” He tries, but it comes out misshapen and wrong and when Kaito meets his eyes, as in fully meets his eyes, he knows that they’re both just thinking about the trial.

It only just happened, after all. Kaito only just died, and Kokichi was only just shot in the back by poisoned crossbow bolts. He swallows thickly.

“Let’s give them some space,” Kaede whispers, somewhere behind Kokichi, sounding like she’s talking to him through a fishtank. Though, whether he’s inside of it, or she’s inside of it, is impossible to decipher. All he knows is, Kaede and all the others exist on an entirely different plane of existence than he and Kaito do right now. Even when Rantaro’s hand places itself on his shoulder, squeezing gently before dropping off, it feels separate, disconnected, like a belated echo off the edge of a cliff.

As footsteps recede, sounding faded and low, Kokichi gestures for Kaito to budge up before swinging himself into the other end of the pod. He doesn’t particularly want to sit in it, on the sticky and wet mattress that’s been absorbing Kaito’s sweat for weeks, but it feels appropriate. Adds to the metaphorical distance between them and the rest of their friends. (A tentative way to refer to everyone else, for sure, but Kokichi finds that it fits regardless.)

The silent stretches between them like taffy on a stretcher. Thick and overwhelming, looping around over and over again, getting more and more difficult to pull all the while. It’s different, in so many aching ways, from the silence that was pulled out of them both in the hangar. That was a silence punctuated by ragged, painful sobs, ones that Kokichi hated releasing-- wouldn’t have, if not for the overwhelming pain coursing through his veins that was near indistinguishable form adrenaline, made heavy by the confession that he hated the game, hated its predecessors and the ones that would be sure to follow if he didn’t act. Made heavy by Kaito’s stillness, by the uncomprehending blankness in those lilac eyes, the slightly parted lips and stiff posture.

It was a silence that shattered, fully, when Kokichi started wheezing, and Kaito made up his mind, decided to follow along with the plan. (He called it brilliant.) An oppressive, unbearable, foggy kind of silence.

This one is different. It’s tense and uncomfortable but awkward, beyond all else, and neither of them have smog in their lungs to cough out now. Just ten minutes ago Kokichi was sobbing into Gonta’s arms, paralysed by guilt and regret, and now he doesn’t know what to say. What he could even say, prompted. What he would.

“Would you accept it this time?” Kaito asks, out of the blue and all of a sudden, and Kokichi blinks at him. Accept what? He doesn’t want to ask, though, doesn’t want to invalidate the reason that Kaito left the question ambiguous by not catching on. What kind of things does one accept? Help? Kaito never offered it to begin with. Forgiveness? There’s a lot to forgive but unless Kaito is talking about forgiving Kokichi for the blackmail, the astronaut isn’t the person whose forgiveness Kokichi really needs. Apologies?

Well… there was, one of those, near the end. “Maybe,” says Kokichi distantly, leaning against the back of the pod and savouring the discomfort of it digging into the small of his back, pressing into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Depends on what it’s for, though. Because if it’s more of that stupid hypothetical talk about how you could have been there for me,” testily, he meets Kaito’s gaze. “Then I seriously really don’t wanna hear it.”

“Nah,” chuckles Kaito, and then he rubs the back of his neck, wincing though it’s such a small action. As he lowers his hand to his side, Kokichi hears the crack in his joint, and winces too, more out of sympathy than actual pain, on his part. He recalls that stiffness, the aches and the unfamiliarity of real movement. The tentative way that Kaito curls and uncurls his fingers, brow furrowed and lips pulled. He’s smiling, though, a weird kind of half-smile and startlingly apologetic, when they make eye contact again. “I mean for fucking up your plan.”

“It was doomed to fail.” Kokichi shrugs, and thinks idly that he’s not entirely sure if it’s a lie or not, the dismissal. “I was playing their game and I used their hero to do it. You had a tragic ending and I’m sure it drove the audience wild.”

Kaito looks at him, long and slow, and Kokichi finds, for the first time ever, that he doesn’t know what’s running through the other boy’s head. “You got damn closer than anyone else did, though.”

That’s one way to look at it. When Kokichi barks out a laugh it’s bitter, and harsher than he intends it to be, but Kaito doesn’t flinch. Instead his lips twitch again, and his smile, when it spreads, is like the hesitant opening of a book. As much as it’s borderline pleasant, sitting here under Kaito’s smile, Kokichi finds himself sobering, squaring his shoulders a little bit, because there are things that he needs to say, still, that he’s having difficulty putting into words. Perhaps Kaito reads it on his expression (which is another first) because he relaxes back into neutrality after a moment.

And it’s like looking in a fucking mirror.

Kaito’s neutrality is alien, though, unfamiliar and scary and startling. Because where Kokichi’s is blank, a loading point between extremes, Kaito’s is calm and open, restful. His brows relax and the corners of his lips tilt down in that way people’s do when they rest. There aren’t any creases in his expression, just a smooth blankness, and it’s not a look of forced calm so much as it is thoughtfulness. Kokichi feels a rush of hot envy, watching the boy for a moment, but it’s not so alien to him. Kaito got to play the hero. He won by making everyone love him, by cherishing bonds and helping others to grow through kindness. Kokichi never got such luxuries, not when he was forced to look at those around him as fellow sacrifices, rather than friends.

“I’m pissed at you still, man.” Kaito mutters. “But I’m not as pissed as I should be, which is kind of bugging me.” Kokichi gives him a look that is steadier than he feels. He keeps quiet, though, waiting for the other to elaborate. “It’s like, I still can’t understand a lot of the shit you did. Why you did all that crap by yourself. But when I was put in that spaceship, for my execution, I--” he pauses. “It’s hard to word.” He mumbles. “It’s like, I just, couldn’t be mad at you anymore.”

“I appreciate it,” Kokichi says dryly. He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s sorely tempted to bring up the fact that he viewed all the other Ultimates as collateral damage. He would do so, even, if he had any idea how he might put it into words. Based on Kaito’s expression, he guesses that the astronaut is having a similar struggle, which is… reassuring. “Look, I…” he averts his gaze finally, heaving a sigh. “I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t say sorry too quick, or else I’m not gonna believe you.” Kaito warns.

“No, I know that,” Kokichi rolls his eyes. “And there are bits of it that I’m not sorry for, but I’m sorry that I-- I’m sorry that I threatened your girlfriend, or whatever, and that I picked holes in your friendship with Saihara. I was trying to vilify myself for-- the plan, and shit, but still.” His lower lip is chapped, he finds, rolling it in between his teeth, and he blows air into the pocket of his right cheek, furrowing his brow. “And that’s not a lie, okay?” He wants to lie, really, its safer and more comfortable that way, but doing it to Kaito feels wrong. With Gonta and Rantaro and Angie and Kaede it was acceptable for him to just start crying and accept their comfort but with Kaito, who was just straight-up with him, who is actually looking him in the eye after everything that happened, it feels immoral, in a way that is no longer acceptable now that things aren’t life or death, to lie to him.

It’s so utterly surreal. The killing game feels like it happened a million years ago, in another universe, entirely separate from this one. He woke up from it so recently and yet, everything that happened… Kokichi has a hard time equating them with reality. A hard time thinking of anything beyond this, sitting in a sweaty and disgusting excuse for a pod across from someone he should hate, as reality. Because this could be it, this could be all there ever as, and that’d… that’d be alright.

“I don’t wanna hold hands with you and sing kumbaya, or anything, ‘kay? Because that’s dumb and we’re not there yet and I’m having a hard time believing that either of us is even real, so--” before Kokichi can finish, Kaito reaches out, and then he’s pulled into-- into an embrace, he suppose, but it’s awkward and fumbling and all sharp angles pressing into the wrong places, and Kaito is so sweaty and he smells terrible and that deflated purple hair is pressing against his cheek, but--

But Kokichi hugs back, anyway, because anything else would feel wrong, and he’s so, so, so so so tired of being the bad guy.

(The throbbing in his temples reduces somewhere in between, pounding and pounding and pounding until it turns into nothing, and then shimmers away; nothing more than golden pixie dust on a dandelion scented breeze.)

Chapter Text

On screen, Shuichi ducks his head, a shadow falling over his eyes, and curls one of his hands into a fist against his face. It’s the expression he makes whenever he’s about make a declaration, the way he did wrapping up arguments in all those trials. Kokichi feels something in his stomach twisting at the fiery resolve in his face. He seems so completely different from the timid, nervous detective who he met on that first day, all those weeks ago.

“I… I refuse.” Shuichi is speaking speaking quietly; so quietly that Kokichi strains to hear it, even though the room is so silent he could hear each individual flap of a hummingbird’s wings. Louder, he declares, “I won’t accept that hope!” And Kiibo jolts with surprise.

“Damn,” Miu mutters. Kokichi turns to raise an eyebrow at her, but before his gaze lands on the inventor, a wave of hissing shushes sound from around the room, and he huffs out a laugh and turns back to the screen. Miu squeals, stammering out, “I-I’m sorry, I just didn’t think the twink had it in him,” before falling silent. Kokichi figures that Gonta is comforting her, because he’s already sitting near her, and he comforted her earlier, too, so he doesn’t waste his concern. Not that he would do anything about it, even if Gonta wasn’t there.

They’re all sitting huddled around the giant screen that some faceless “Team Danganronpa” workers brought in earlier. Kokichi has half a mind to be resentful about it, because they only brought in the screen in the first place so they could all watch the final trial in high definition, but he can’t be too pouty, because it’s got them all to sit together, which Gonta said people have been having a hard time doing. Next to him, Kaede has been curled up, her legs tucked against her chest, and lying in Rantaro’s lap for a while now. His hands are resting in her hair still, but they’re immobile; his gaze is fixed on the screen, a tiny crease between his eyebrows.

Angie is sitting awfully close to Kokichi, but he doesn’t mind, because she smells nice, like that comforting fruity smell that clung to the jacket she tossed over his shoulders when he woke up from the simulation. At a couple points, she clutched his hand, her grip vice-like, but she’s refused to meet his eyes all the while. Right now her hand is resting near to his, close enough that he could uncurl one of his fingers and link it with hers, but he doesn’t, not right now. Angie would start, and honestly, he thinks it’s important that she be paying attention to the trial, and not him.

Even Korekiyo is sitting with them, which took everyone off guard. He looks thin, thinner even than he was in the simulation, and instead of that fancy black mask he wore before he has a simple, white, fabric sick mask over his nose. He arrived half an hour ago, and everyone looked blankly at him for a moment, before eventually Tenko spoke up, and said, far too loudly: “You can sit next to Tenko,” before scooting over to make room for him. She didn’t meet anybody’s eyes, and Korekiyo complied without speaking, and that was that-- though Kokichi has caught people looking over at them during the quieter moments in the trial.

Shuichi’s raising his voice, and it’s hard for Kokichi to take in the exact words that the detective is saying. Vaguely he registers Kaede sitting up straight and heads turning behind him-- probably looking at Rantaro, because now that’s what Shuichi is talking about, but Kokichi figured all that stuff out during the investigation so he could genuinely care less-- but he focuses so hard on the screen that his vision starts to blur, a vague, dull pain beginning to reform behind his eyes. Another headache settling in with all the flashing lights on screen; the raised voices and the rapid switches of costume from Tsumugi (traitorous bitch, but it’s not like Kokichi ever trusted her anyway, because the plain ones are always the most dangerous) but he ignores it, shoves it way way way back, and focuses instead on the burning in his chest.

He fumbles blindly for Angie’s hand and when he gets to it, squeezes harder than he should. He feels it rather than sees it when she looks at him, concern etched into her expression, but he doesn’t say anything so neither does she. She squeezes back though, hard too, and Kokichi swallows.

“I don’t want anyone to feel that way anymore!” Shuichi declares.

There it is. That’s what Kokichi was thinking. That was why. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember how to breathe properly. Why he was willing to sacrifice all the kids sitting around him, why he did sacrifice two of them, himself too. Because the killing games are abhorrent. Because kids after them were going to suffer, and he knew it, and he couldn’t let it happen, because it wasn’t right. But the difference between him and Shuichi, it’s staring him in the face right now, a blinding electric blue that drives iron spikes right through his temples. His eyes crack open.

“I…” Shuichi’s chest heaves as he takes a breath, shoulders shaking with exertion from all the yelling. His voice sounds hoarse. Kokichi is certain, all of a sudden, that he’s never used it this much before, virtual world or not. But he doesn’t falter, not for a second. “...refuse to vote.”

There’s silence, filling the room like a thick liquid, and then Kaede’s voice breaks it before anybody on screen does, hoarse but loud enough to be heard over the pounding music of the trial. “But… but then he’ll be killed!”

(On screen, Kiibo says almost the exact same thing, and Kokichi’s lips quirk in a bitter smile.)

“It isn’t real,” murmurs Korekiyo’s voice, sounding hoarse too, but from disuse, Kokichi thinks rather than sobs, like Kaede’s. “It may kill him in the simulation, but it won’t be… real. He will simply wake up again.”

“But… Saihara will still be dying! He’ll still feel it.” Gonta’s frown is heavy, heavy, and rough. Full of grief. “He’ll remember dying when he wakes up, just like the rest of us.”

“He must be insane.” Kirumi remarks, sounding aghast. “He can’t…”

“Not alone, he can’t.” Kokichi hears himself saying, talking over the debate that starts on screen. “Because if he abstains by himself it won’t be anything at all, just a pathetic death from a pathetic character.”

“Don’t talk about him that way!” Snaps Tenko, and Kokichi has half a mind to make a crack at her for defending a male, but he lacks the energy. “Saihara isn’t pathetic, even if he is a degenerate!”

“I don’t think he’s pathetic,” Kokichi hisses in kind. “I’m saying that’s what it’ll be, if he alone dies. That’s not his goal, to just abstain from voting all by himself.” He glares up at the screen, watches as Shuichi starts to talk to Himiko. Even beneath the resolve, Kokichi can see the compassion. But it’s startling how much of himself he’s seeing up on screen right now, even though, in so many ways, Shuichi is… so much different. “He needs all of them to abstain. Yumeno. Harukawa.” He hesitates. “Kiibo.”

And there it is, the difference between them. Kokichi thought he could end the games by beating them at their own game. If he played their game well enough, tricked even the people who made the rules, he could prove that the game was invalid. Shuichi doesn’t differ from him like Kaito does-- Kaito would never have the strength to ask that others sacrifice themselves alongside him. Kaito wants to be the hero, the only hero, and he couldn’t bear it, the prospect of other people dying too. Shuichi understands what Kokichi did, staring at Rantaro’s dead body on the library floor, that they were all goners from the very beginning. They were done for. But other kids weren’t. And those were the kids they needed to be protecting.

But the way that Shuichi is ending it isn’t by playing the game. He’s refusing to play. He’s refusing to give the people what they want. Where Kokichi tried to show them that what they wanted was foolish and overdone, inherently flawed, Shuichi… is simply refusing to hand it over.

And Kokichi knows, from the look in Maki’s eyes, that Shuichi is going to win. Because he’s lost so much already. Even if he’s set up to lose this… he won’t let himself. Shuichi Saihara is going to beat Danganronpa.

“He’s doing it.” Ryoma mutters. “He’s convincing them.”

“That’s--” Kaito’s voice breaks off. Kokichi knows what he was going to say, but… he understands why he doesn’t finish the sentence. Shuichi isn’t anybody’s sidekick right now.

“Kiibo too.” Miu sniffles. Kokichi realises with a jolt that she’s crying, and when he turns around to look at her, he sees that tears are streaming down Gonta’s cheeks too, though the entomologist is silently rubbing her back, rather than saying anything.

In fact, they’re not the only ones. Tenko is crying into a curled fist (she probably started when Himiko agreed not to vote) and Korekiyo is curled into a ball, his face pressed into his knees and his shoulders shaking slightly. Some ways off from them Ryoma’s eyes are awfully bright, but he’s smiling, and Kirumi’s head is turned to the side, showing Kokichi only the lock of hair that falls in front of her eye. He’s certain she’s crying, though, because her hands are shaking despite being clenched in her lap.

Kaede has been crying, Kokichi supposes, on and off, and Rantaro’s head his bowed, a mop of green hair obstructing his face from view because the rest of it is resting on Kaede’s shoulder, but he’s holding onto her hand so tight that his knuckles are pale, and Kokichi tears away his gaze, feeling like he’s intruding on something deeply personal. Angie’s grip has been tightening on his hand this whole time-- in small increments, so he hasn’t really noticed, but now there’s barely any circulation in his fingers. She’s wearing a broad smile, beaming up at the screen, but tears continue to drip off her chin and into her lap, completely against her will, Kokichi presumes.

He isn’t crying, though, and maybe that’s because he ran out of tears earlier, but he thinks it’s just more likely that he doesn’t want to cry, not right now. Not when Shuichi is walking the path that he couldn’t, that he wasn’t strong enough to. He wants to witness this, with clear eyes, until the very end-- and then, when Shuichi wakes up, he… he doesn’t know, really, but he wants… he wants Shuichi to understand that he was seen, by somebody.

Perhaps Kaito is thinking the same thing, because his face is dry still, and though he’s blinking more than usual, he keeps shaking his head, a furious look on his face. When he notices Kokichi looking, though, he grins, and Kokichi sighs, but lets a half smile settle on his face (an awkward, messy half smile) before looking back up.

On screen, Kiibo’s eyes are a solid blue, and Kokichi shoves the implications of it back back back to the furthest reaches of his mind, because Kiibo is a robot, but maybe-- maybe he’s a computer program or something, and he can be restored, and there are bigger things to worry about, bigger concerns, and Kokichi cannot lose his composure before the end of the--

“The impossible is possible!” Shuichi yells on screen. “All you gotta do is make it so!”

Kaito lets out a choked noise, and all of a sudden, Kokichi is the only person who isn’t crying.

Kokichi watches, impassive as he thinks is humanly possible, as Shuichi sets his jaw. He’s glaring a hole into Tsumugi by now; his gaze is smoldering. It wasn’t like this, when Shuichi thought that he was the mastermind. But then, at that point, Shuichi hadn’t truly lost everything. Now he has. Maybe that makes the difference. Maybe that’s why he’s winning now, where Kokichi failed-- where Rantaro, Kaede, and Angie failed before him. The trial isn’t over, not yet, but…

But Kokichi knows that Shuichi is going to win.

---

The screens fade to black after Kiibo destroys the academy, and the room is bathed in silence. Silence, except for the sounds of sniffling, of muffled sobbing, coming from everybody in the room. Kokichi is sitting alone now, because Angie flew from his side over to take Tenko into her arms when the execution began. Kaito’s head is bowed, Kokichi notices, and his hands are shaking, but underneath his hair, Kokichi sees the shadow of a grin on his face, despite tears streaking down his cheeks.

All the emotion in the room is palpable, and Kokichi wants nothing more than to escape from it. His legs are awfully shaky, but he manages to pull himself to his feet. Dejected-looking workers come into the room to wheel out the television, and Kokichi stares at them, wondering if they can see the unasked question on his face.

One of them, the taller, gruffer looking man, barks out, “They’ll wake up in the next five to ten minutes, depending when they get to the edge of the world. Tsumugi and Kiibo are gonna take a couple hours, since they died like the rest of you, but the other three will be up soon.”

“Kiibo?” Miu’s voice interrupts, sounding thick. “Is he-- what do you mean about Kiibo?”

The other man, shorter, and perhaps weaker, in Kokichi’s opinion, sighs. “He’s in one of those pods. You didn’t think that kid was actually a robot, did you?”

Nobody says anything else as the Team Danganronpa workers exit the room. Presumably to figure out what the hell they’re going to do now that Shuichi has destroyed their franchise, but Kokichi couldn’t give half of a shit about them or their intentions. The lids on the pods are see-through, placed around the giant computer like their podiums were placed back in the courtrooms. Kokichi turns on his heel and marches right over to where he knows Shuichi’s to be.

Before he can do anything stupid, a hand grips his shoulder. The touch is gentle, so Kokichi assumes that it’s Kaede-- and maybe it’s because it’s Kaede, he stops, and doesn’t immediately round on her to tell her off for stopping him.

She clears her throat. “Uhm,” Kaede sniffles. “I-It’ll make a hissing sound, when he’s fully out. That’s what happened with everybody else.” Kokichi turns his head to look at her, sees swollen redness around her eyes, and feels his gut twist. Of course she wouldn’t really be trying to stop him from getting to Shuichi. Nobody would, he doesn’t think, but especially not Kaede. Kaede, who made sure to be there at his side when he woke up because she knew how he’d be feeling. Kaede, who’s been trying unsuccessfully to rally everyone since she got out of the damn thing. Kaede, who he wasn’t kind to in the simulation, not even for a second.

Excuses be damned. Kokichi pulls his sleeve over the palm of his hand and wipes stray tears from Kaede’s cheek, trying to be gentle because the skin is reddened and probably sore from all the crying. She manages a smile. “You’re not bad, Kaede Akamatsu.” He murmurs.

“Yeah, well,” Kaede clears her throat a second time. “You surprised all of us, y’know? I think if anyone should be there when he wakes up, it should be you.”

Kokichi snorts derisively. “You’re the one he wants to see, piano hands. You should’ve seen him, getting all emo every time he was in the same vicinity as a piano.”

“It’s not a competition,” Rantaro appears behind Kaede, resting one of his hands on his shoulder and giving Kokichi a smile that is far too knowing for his taste. “All three of us can be there.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yonaga would too, but her priority is Yumeno, I think.”

“Mm.” Kaede smiles, closing her eyes for a moment, and Rantaro squeezes her shoulder. Kokichi raises his eyebrows. (Oh.) “Three out of four isn’t bad, though.” She remarks, opening her eyes again.

“Seventy five percent.” Kokichi states. “Which is pretty terrible considering how low the bar was.”

“Haha, okay,” Rantaro rolls his eyes. “I think three of us is just fine. Don’t need to blindside Saihara with too many of his previously-dead friends, or else he’ll have a heart attack in the pod.” Kokichi sticks his tongue out at Rantaro, preparing a retort, but all of a sudden the pod behind him lets out a loud hissing noise, and he flips around, staring down at it.

The lid is transparent, actually, but dark green. It’s hard to make out much through it other than a vague outline of Shuichi’s body-- that is, until one of his legs bends, and then his other knocks against the side of the pod. Kokichi winces, recalling how smelly and hot it is in those things, and moves towards the pod without waiting for any instructions from Kaede and Rantaro, who have done this countless times before him.

It’s not difficult to locate the latch on the side, and admittedly the lid is a little bit heavy, but Kokichi just sucks in a sharp breath and heaves it over. The loud clattering noise it makes on the floor is overkill, but satisfying, and he grins despite dirty looks that he can only imagine are being sent his way by everyone else.

Inside the pod, one of Shuichi’s hands flies to his headset, and stays there. He must be terribly confused.

“Hey!” Kokichi calls out, a bit louder than he needs to, because Shuichi can probably hear him regardless. “Saihara! Do you hear me?”

Shuichi freezes, a total stiffness rippling through his body. When his voice comes out, it’s both muffled by the headset, and incredibly weak. “Ouma?” He sounds beyond confused, and Kokichi doesn’t miss the way that his voice shakes near the end. Not being able to see probably isn’t making this very easy at all. Taking off the headset is less straightforward than getting off the lid of the pod, though, and for a moment Kokichi isn’t sure how to go about it.

“Saihara,” Rantaro walks around to the back of the pod, right near Shuichi’s head. “You probably have a lot of questions, but I’m going to help you sit up first, is that okay?”

There’s hesitation, but then Shuichi hums out an agreement, and Kokichi watches Rantaro brace Shuichi’s back, just like the green-haired-boy did for him when he woke up, and guide him to sit up straight. Kaede has rushed forward now, to take Shuichi’s hands and help him stay upright, so Kokichi walks stiffly forward so that his knees knock against the edge of the pod, but he doesn’t reach out to touch Shuichi, nor does he say anything else.

“I’m taking off your helmet now.” Rantaro says, and after Shuichi nods, he removes it with a tug, and Kokichi’s heart catches.

Kaito was a smelly-looking mess when he woke up from the simulation, but it’s really hard for Kokichi to even compare the two of them. Sure, his blue hair is messy and knotted and damp with sweat, and there are angry red lines across his forehead from the helmet, and when the light shines in Shuichi’s eyes he flinches, blinking fast, but-- but it’s him, as in actually him, pretty long eyelashes and light spattering of acne across his forehead and all, lifting the hand that Kaede isn’t holding the shield his eyes from the light, and--

And now Kokichi does want to cry, but he holds back, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to start crying now, not yet.

When Shuichi looks around, it’s somewhat wild. His grey eyes are bleary and they have the look of someone trying to take in too much information and much too fast, but then they settle (predictably) on Kaede, and immediately they fill with tears. “A--” he breaks off, his lower lip trembling, and before he tries again, Kaede has pulled him into a hug.

“I’m so,” she’s whispering, but Kokichi can still hear her. “Proud of you.”

Kokichi looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, and purposefully tunes out everything else that she says. Talk about awkward, man. Even if he realised something earlier that doesn’t make this too incredibly weird for him, he still feels like he’s intruding on an extremely sensitive moment. Which he so is, actually. As his eyes flit around the room, desperate for some kind of escape, he makes eye contact with Gonta, awkwardly hanging back from Maki’s pod, and the entomologist offers a smile that is equally uncomfortable. It makes Kokichi laugh, but he stifles the sound, not wanting to break the moment between Shuichi and Kaede with any harsh things.

When he chances a look back at the two, they’ve broken apart, and Shuichi is wiping tears from his face, a (stunning) confused smile on his face.

“O-Okay, I’m, really happy that-- but I don’t quite understand?” He gets out, and Kokichi’s lip curls up, because he really does sound baffled.

“It’s hard to explain when you’re so disoriented-- I was, when I woke up, but--” Kaede shrugs. “It was a simulation.”

“None of it was real.” Rantaro adds, reaching out and ruffling Shuichi’s hair. Shuichi lets out an indignant huff and ducks away, reaching up to swat at his hand, and Rantaro grins. “It was a virtual reality thing set up by Team Danganronpa.”

Shuichi is silent for a moment, likely processing the implications of that statement. “So, then, it was true? What Shirogane said, about-- about us signing up? And everything e--”

“No,” says Rantaro sharply. “We aren’t here by choice.” He stops; Shuichi looks slightly abashed.

Okay, Kokichi thinks. My turn. “We can get into aaaaaaall of that later, beloved,” he chirps, putting on as bright a smile as he can muster, and Shuichi’s head turns towards him, expression unreadable. Kokichi is pretty used to that, and if he wanted to read it he probably could, actually (Shuichi is an open book) but he decides not to. There’d be no real reason, and anyway, that’s not the point, not right now. Not ever again, if they’re lucky. “But what’s most important is that you totally sunk Team Danganronpa’s business! The workers here are all sulky and upset. Nishishi, I guess they aren’t used to being bested by a teenager.”

After a moment, Shuichi’s lips curl into another smile, this one tentative but familiar. The one he wore in all those times he asked Kokichi to spend time with him, the one he puts on before he says, but that’s a lie, isn’t it? He doesn’t ask that, though. “Ah. So…” he trails off. “The killing games are really over.”

“It feels like a bit of a win-win, doesn’t it? A super happy fairy tale ending.” Kokichi muses. “You defeat the bad guys, and everyone is actually alive! Even Momota, though he’s probably over there being gross and straight with Miss Assa-- uh, Harukawa, right now.” He clears his throat to direct attention away from the slip-up. “I promise it’s not a lie though, we’re really--” and Kokichi focuses on the pounding headache that’s yet to recede, the grounding ache in his chest every time he inhales and exhales. The things that let him know this is the real world, not another simulation, not heaven, not purgatory, none of it. “We’re really all here.”

Shuichi stares at him, and this time his expression is the kind of unreadable that Kokichi couldn’t decipher if he wanted to, and he leans forward to whisper something into Kaede’s ear that Kokichi doesn’t quite catch.

The blonde nods. “Hey, Rantaro,” she says, and Kokichi notes the use of his given name. “Can we go say hi to Yumeno?”

“I think Chabashira would kill me,” Rantaro hums, but when Kaede straightens up and gestures for him to go with her, he follows, squeezing Shuichi’s shoulder as he goes.

And then it’s just them.

Kokichi kicks at the floor, because there are things that he wanted to say, that he wanted to point out, that he noticed in the trial, but they’ve all escaped him now, and all that’s left is an ugly block in his chest that means more stupid tears, and he really doesn’t want that, not when Shuichi just woke up.

“So,” Shuichi’s tone is uncertain, lopsided, and Kokichi meets his gaze. “You left that note in your room. The, ah, this is not a will, one. Why?”

“Pfft, what a silly question, Saihara!” Kokichi rolls his eyes. It is a dumb question. Kokichi was expecting something more profound. “I left it so that you’d know where to find that code thing on the wall, duh--”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Shuichi cuts him off, but gently. “Your plan to end the killing game didn’t involve anybody looking around in your room, did it? I imagine that that would’ve been a pretty big inconvenience to you.” He pauses, and Kokichi wonders if he’s thinking about that stupid whiteboard with the word trustworthy? written underneath his picture. He knew he should’ve erased the damn thing. “So why would you leave something for someone to find?”

“Would you buy it if I said that I did it for kicks?” Kokichi asks.

“Ah, no.” Shuichi smiles. “I don’t think you did anything in that game for kicks, Ouma. If I’m correct, you hated all of it just as much as the rest of us-- if not more.”

Kokichi recalls the night after Kaede’s execution, stumbling back to his room with Miu’s drone in hand, barely dropping it on the way to his bathroom, and subsequently falling to his knees and throwing up. (Not that he had much to throw up to begin with, but still, he was there retching on the linoleum for the better part of the hour.) A good part of him is tempted to respond with what gave you that impression?, a cutting enough remark to shut Shuichi down, he thinks, but-- not the Shuichi sitting in front of him, he supposes. Shuichi from before would’ve looked down, hurt, but this one? He’d probably retort.

“If you’d rather not answer--” Shuichi starts to say, looking a bit anxious at the prolonged silence. Kokichi cuts him off.

“My plan wasn’t foolproof, stupid.” He tries not to sound angry, because he isn’t. Still, he has to avert his gaze. “I was the only one who bothered to look around that dumb academy, other than Gonta, who only ever did it when he was looking for bugs. I wanted my plan to work above all else, but the way I had it worked out in my head, it wasn’t gonna make any sense if I stayed alive, no matter what, and if things didn’t work, then I wasn’t gonna be around to share the information I’d collected.” Kokichi shrugs. “I wrote it down. I didn’t think Harukawa would take the time to sort diligently through all the blueprints.”

At that, Shuichi suppresses a smile. Kokichi notices the laughter in his eyes, though, and can’t help cracking one of his own. He wonders which blueprint sprung to mind. There were a lot of false ones put in there, after all. To throw off the mastermind, not the other students, but even so. It’s funny to him that Shuichi saw some of those.

“You did a lot better than I did.” Kokichi says idly, and it comes out of the blue even to him. Shuichi’s expression reflects surprise, which Kokichi supposes is normal. He rarely speaks so franky-- he could count the lies he’s told since getting out of the simulation on both hands, which is not regular for him-- and giving a compliment like this is probably something that Shuichi wasn’t expecting even a little bit. “I was impressed.”

“I-I… I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t executed your plan first, Ouma,” Shuichi says, a bit tightly, and Kokichi looks at him full on, raising his eyebrows. “If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself, gone out as the villain, I… I think it was that, and what happened to Momota, that finally… that finally tipped me over the edge. There were so many sacrifices before that, it already wasn’t fair, but after losing you two, I…”

“Did you even mourn me?” Kokichi asks with a smile. It occurs to him only after the words die in the air how bitter he sounds, and he shakes his head quickly. Not Shuichi’s fault. Not even Maki’s fault, or Himiko’s, that they didn’t mourn him-- he wanted that, he wanted them to hate him, that was the goal from the start. He’s not gonna do that thing where he manipulates people and then makes them feel bad for falling for it. He did it before, in the killing game, and he’s pretty sure it nearly tore Kaede apart. He’s not gonna do it to Shuichi, not here, and not ever. He doesn’t need to. And he doesn’t want to. “Don’t answer that, it’s a ridiculous--”

“Yes,” Shuichi interrupts, breathlessly.

“What?”

“ Yes, I mourned you. Ouma, you-- you died at the same time as my best friend, I’m sorry that I didn’t-- when you were watching, it probably didn’t seem like I was thinking of you, but I-- I was, alright?” Shuichi looks down at his hands, clenched in his lap. He looks fragile. Kokichi wonders if that’s how he looked to Angie and Rantaro and Kaede, when he woke up from the simulation and they watched him break into pieces. “I was thinking about you sitting alone in your room while everyone hated you, and-- and working on that book full of things to say, full of possibilities, and-- god, Ouma, you planned out everything and none of us even bothered to--”

“Stop that,” Kokichi says harshly. “You’re going to make me cry, and you know that that’s not what I wanted.” Shuichi doesn’t look up at him. “I mean it, Saihara, you’re being dumb. If you had tried to understand me more than you already did-- which was a lot, okay?-- I would’ve just pulled away even harder. You don’t get it. You were supposed to hate me. That was what I wanted, your hatred and your judgement. It was never about me, I was gone the second I was put in that game.” Whether or not Kokichi Ouma is a real person, ever was a real person, he never had any self-preservation, not in any life, and that much Kokichi can say with certainty. “You’re not gonna sit there and dump on yourself because you followed along with a plan that I wanted you to. That’s not on you.”

Shuichi’s voice shakes when he replies. “I still feel like there was more I could’ve done.”

“If there was, Saihara,” Kokichi sucks in a breath, waiting for the other boy to lift his head. When he does, Kokichi sees that he’s crying again, and it’s hardly a surprise, because Kokichi is on the verge of tears himself. “Then you wouldn’t have been able to end the games, would you?”

“I--” Shuichi breaks off, shudders, and then says, “Ouma, j-just-- can you--” he gestures aimlessly at the air in front of him. “Please, I--”

After a moment, Kokichi understands. He feels a bit weird about it, but he does as indicated, crawling into the pod next to Shuichi and leaning in close to pull the other boy into a hug. He feels it against his chest when Shuichi cries (probably leftover adrenaline from that stupid trial) and screws his eyes shut, because now that nobody can see his face anymore, and Shuichi’s body is sticky with sweat but absurdly warm, there’s nothing stopping those tears from rushing down his face, completely without his permission.

He tilts forward his face and hides his eyes in Shuichi’s shoulder, pressing his lips together to keep from sobbing. This whole crying genuinely thing sucks and he hates it. He’d like to get back to crocodile tears, immediately, if possible. But he knows that there’s no chance of that happening.

His headache is beating through his skull, strong and loud and demanding, but when he balls up his fists in the fabric of Shuichi’s shirt and inhales deeply, he can tune it out for a little bit. Shuichi smells terrible, and his bare feet are probably sticking to the mattress on the inside of the pod, but all of that disappears for a second.

It’s over. They’re over. The games are. And they’re alive. Really live. Shuichi’s heart is beating hard against his chest, and Kokichi knows that Shuichi can feel his own in kind. Whatever else happens, it--

It doesn’t matter. The killing games are over. Everything is okay now.

Kokichi shuts off his brain and lets himself dissolve in Shuichi’s arms.