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Korekiyo could not forgive himself. Even after they all woke up from the program, even after they had learned the entire truth of their pasts (and what had been replicated for the game), even after Angie, Himiko, and Tenko had eventually forgiven him...He could not find it in himself to move on.
He wasn’t actually a killer, thankfully, yet She was real. Miyadera. Sister. Her death. That part had been entirely truthful, and now that a year had passed, Korekiyo’s eyes were slowly opening to the truth.
Miyadera did not love him.
(Apologize, apologize, apologize--)
His skin was tainted with her touch, her lips, her lies that she murmured to him to convince him that she was his /lover/. No.
Rantaro had explained, Kaede had explained, as had Shuichi, Gonta had even tried to, as had countless others. Rantaro, however, had been the one to truly make it sink in. He explained his feelings towards his sisters, the ones who were missing, and...They were so different. He wasn’t /afraid/ of them, his love with pure. The explanation helped. It had taken a while yet...Korekiyo soon realized their relationship had not been normal.
He still felt vile. His dreams were plagued with memories of her, his past playing on replay like a broken disc. Korekiyo wished that it would stop, he wished that he could break it but...Alas.
Kirumi had promised him that eventually, he would feel free. Korekiyo chose to believe her. He had bonded with her (and Gonta) somewhat, due to their position as a blackened during the game. Rantaro tried to help with his guilt also.
Despite their well-intended promises, Korekiyo still felt vile. Though she was gone, he was terrified to remove his mask in fear of seeing her. Afraid to change his hair from the style she loved, afraid to change out of the outfit she had made him, afraid to remove the bandages that hid the punishments he gave himself for her, afraid to change the makeup she wore. Afraid to invoke the wrath that he had spent his entire childhood trying to avoid.
(That was your fault, was it not? You were just an idiotic child who needed retribution, to apologize for the burden that you were. That you are.)
He was taking steps, though. Korekiyo, along with most of the others, had started seeing a therapist after the game had ended. His therapist knew, of course, about Sister beforehand. The entire world that had watched the stream of their false-game did. Of course, it wasn’t as they had been told- Danganronpa was not popular, but rather a remnant of the despair the world had recovered from a few years before.
One of his first steps was that his...Friends, yes, /friends/ had begun to solely call him Kiyo, or other nicknames based on his full name. He had instructed them to do so beforehand, but now they made an effort to never mess up with it.
Korekiyo had been the name his sister had called him. No matter what. She said that it was too beautiful to shorten, and asking people to call him Kiyo after her death had been his first step of defiance. He had told himself it was to preserve his full name for her, but it wasn’t.
Now that he didn’t have to hear it, he didn’t have to hear his name in her voice. It was oddly liberating.
Secondly, he had changed his mask. It looked practically the same, but it was not made by her. He couldn’t handle an entire uniform change yet, but...It was still a step.
Third, he had stopped wearing his hat. Oddly enough, that had been quite hard. He assumed it was due to his resistance to change, and the stimulation he found in it, but perhaps it was due to the purpose he had originally worn it.
His hat, his mask, his entire outfit had originally been to cover his skin from his Sister. He had not told her that, of course, instead choosing to say it was to help his brain function. The bandages originally shared the same purpose, but soon they were to cover the scars on his hands and arms.
(I find them beautiful, sweet Korekiyo, but others will find them disturbing…)
Perhaps one day he would remove them, along with his jacket, but not while he still felt the need for punishment. Once the wounds were healed, then he could take that step. He would take that step.
For now, though, he was more focused on another thing. His hair.
It had always bothered him, not only from its sensation and texture but also just from the length. Yet, Sister had told him to grow it out, and after her tulpa had formed, she would stop him from cutting it. However, she also would not allow him to braid it, or even tie it up. He wouldn’t mind it if it didn’t touch him during his sensory overloads, yet she didn’t seem to care.
(Don’t you want to be good for me, Korekiyo? Don’t you want to make me proud, my sweet?)
He had been preparing for a very long time. A year. A year of trying, and failing to cut it, or braid it, or tie it up. It seemed to be the thing holding him back-- because every time he looked into the mirror, he saw her. Her hair, flowing behind her back instead of his. It was intolerable, unjust, it made him sick to his stomach and filled with disgust.
He was ready. Perhaps not prepared, but ready. He had told Rantaro of his goal previously, and he full-heartedly supported him. And, even offered to help if needed. As much as Korekiyo disliked the idea of asking for his assistance, it seemed necessary.
“Ah, Rantaro? Are you free?”
“Oh, hey Kiyo. And yeah, I am, did you want to talk about something?”
“Yes. I,” Korekiyo hesitated, “I’d like to cut my hair. I haven’t been able to do so myself, unfortunately,”
“Oh, yeah! I can totally help with that. How short? I have scissors, but if you want to shave it, I’ll have to ask someone else if they have something,”
“No, no-- Not that short. Maybe…” Kiyo gestured to a bit above his shoulders, “Here?”
“That’d look super cool! We can do it in my bathroom,”
“I appreciate it, Rantaro,”
“Of course,”
The pair walked to Rantaro’s room and the slightly-shorter male looked for his scissors before putting a chair in his bathroom.
“Alright, I used to cut my sister’s hair and I do my own, so I kind of know what I’m doing, but it might not look perfect. Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”
“I...Am afraid that if I wait, that I will no longer have the nerve to do it,”
“Cool, that’s fine. I’ll do my best. With that length, you can tie It up, by the way. It’ll make cutting it easier, also, if you tie it where you want it cut,”
“Oh...Alright. That is acceptable,” Korekiyo said, and gingerly took the hairband Rantaro offered him. Taking a deep breath, he began to tie it back.
(Vile, wretched boy! What are you doing?! Take it out this instance, and apologize! APOLOGIZE! APOLOGIZE!)
“Awesome! That’s great. Okay, you can sit down now and I can start,”
“Are you sure I am not burdening you?”
“Of course not, I’m, glad you came to me,”
“...Alright,” Korekiyo said, before sitting in the chair.
“Okay, last chance. Ready?” Rantaro asked. Korekiyo looked into the mirror in front of him so that he could see Rantaro, who was holding the scissors by his hair. A knot of dread formed in his stomach.
“Yes. I’m ready. Though I may not be able to watch, I apologize,”
“That’s fine! You can close your eyes. Do you want me to talk during it, or be quiet?”
“I would...Appreciate it if you talked,”
“Cool, I’m good at that. Alright, I’m going to start now,”
“Alright,” Korekiyo said, before closing his eyes.
Rantaro began to speak about many things, drowning out the sound of the scissors and even the screaming of Miyadera inside Korekiyo’s mind. However, he could still feel as Rantaro cut through the ponytail.
Then, suddenly, with the last snip through that section, it came free. Korekiyo squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and instead focused on Rantaro’s voice. He seemed to be talking about a country that he visited and got lost in. It would be an amusing story if Korekiyo wasn’t trying his hardest to not freak out.
Rantaro wasn’t done, of course, and seemed to begin to even it out. He could feel the other’s male’s presence moving to his side, and feel his hand as he gently held his hair to cut it.
However, sooner than he thought, Rantaro’s rambling ended.
“...Okay. It’s done. You can open your eyes whenever you’re ready, I already cleaned up the hair though,”
“Ah, you didn’t need to do that, I apologize for the incon-- Oh,” Korekiyo said, as he opened his eyes.
That was him. That was HIM. Not Miyadera, that...that…
That was Kiyo. And, without meaning to, Kiyo found himself smiling behind his mask.
“Is it okay? I tried to get it where you showed me,”
“Rantaro it’s...It’s lovely, thank you. Thank you, truly. I...I don’t know how I could ever repay you,”
“Seriously, you sounding so happy right now is enough payment. I’m glad that you like it,”
Kiyo stood up, marveling at how light his hair felt now. Though, perhaps it wasn’t just his hair, but also his entire being.
“I am truly overjoyed. Thank you, Rantaro,”
“Yeah, man!” Rantaro grinned, “Can I give you a high five? I know you have some issues with touch sometimes, so you can totally say no,”
Korekiyo nodded and raised his hand, “Yes, you may,”
Rantaro enthusiastically high-fived him, “Awesome. You sure you’re okay?”
“...Yes. I haven’t been this okay in a very long time,”
“I’m glad I could help,”
“Are you sure there’s no way I can repay you?”
“Actually-- there is. If you’re feeling up to it, how about we go drink some tea or coffee together and hang out?”
“That would be quite nice,”
Together, with Rantaro continuing his story, the two went to do so.
And while it would take a while for her voice to fade completely, and even longer for her grip on him to dissolve...Kiyo felt as if Miyadera’s voice had become quieter.
He was finally taking steps.