Chapter Text
DICE was gone, everything was gone.
Kokichi Ouma sat still in the small hospital bed, white blankets tucked around a body that could no longer move as he would like.
That would never truly be mobile again.
A thin line of drool slid from the partially open mouth, the thought of closing his lips a bit difficult when he simply couldn't hold a thought much longer than a few moments.
Infuriating for someone who only ever could think.
Kokichi's breath was slow, dull violet staring at the children's show the nurse had left on his television. The mascots danced and sang, though Kokichi couldn't remember what about. Focus was difficult in a body as disastrous as this one.
Trauma, the nurse has told one of the few classmates who has willingly come into his room during their own rehabilitation.
Everyone else was okay because they had been able to pull them before they died in the simulation.
Ouma had stayed dead until the end of the fifth trial.
Some days, Kokichi could remember a lot. He would cry and writhe the best his useless body could muster, mourning the loss of DICE and the loss of himself.
Kokichi Ouma should have stayed dead, it would have been better than this.
The nurses were always honest, terribly so. The first time, and only time, Saihara-chan had come to see him they explained Kokichi's immobility. The head nurse was changing his clothing as she spoke, empty head laid on her shoulder as she shamelessly wiped the mess from in between his legs in front of Saihara.
Practically braindead, she had said.
But Kokichi was there, he was there and God, why wouldn't they just put him out of his misery?
The trip had ended with Kokichi crying, pathetic little whines, and mewls being all he could manage from his lips.
Saihara-chan never came to see him again. Kokichi Ouma was a lost cause.
Gonta Gokuhara came a few times, bringing in all sorts of picture books about bugs and even some "friends" from the bug catcher. Kokichi hadn't had enough energy to make a fuss, not that he had enough motor skill to do anything but twitch and shiver. Gonta had stopped coming when his therapy progressed, finding unresolved resentment for the little leader and never having the means for closure.
Kokichi so desperately wanted to apologize, but he had deduced this was hell long ago.
Kaito Momota still came, every week.
The door to his little hospital room opened, the man of the hour slipping through. Kaito was healthy, moved on with his life. The Ultimate Astronaut had come frequently after the rest of their classmates were discharged, seemingly aware of Saihara's one visit to his room.
"Hey man!"
Kokichi had been greeted, shortly after feeling a soft tissue at the bottom of his chin, climbing to wipe at the drool.
"I'm glad to see you, Ouma! You're sitting up today, good for you!"
Kaito Momota always used a positive intonation when they interacted as if Kokichi was a stupid, pathetic, worthless little child that needed someone to pretend they cared about the hell he had been in for the last six months.
What made it worse was he was.
Strong arms ruffled his unkempt hair, carefully pulling the long tousels of hair out of his face and settling in the Momo chair.
"We had a reunion today, though I've gotta say it wasn't as fun as it would've been with you. Kaede played the piano for us, the first time she's touched the thing since, y'know, the game. Saihara asked me to tell you he was thinking about you, though!"
Kokichi didn't care, thoughts didn't mean anything. Not to someone who faded in and out of lucidity. Not to someone who was determined cuucuu.
Someone the Nurses said would live and die in this hospital, if something didn't change.
More than once the nurses had spoken over his body as if he wasn't there, blaming him for his own state.
If only Kokichi had just keeled over and died.
If only Kokichi hadn't tried to end the game.
If only Kokichi could untangle his brain from believing he was still dead.
A strong hand held his cheek, wiping under one of those dull, dead eyes.
"I thought about you too. When you get out of here, I've got a room with your name on it in my house. Seriously! I painted on the door, you know! It's not done or anything, but we can finish it together! I... I know you're still in there, man."
Yeah, Kokichi agreed, only Kaito knew there was still a person in the body of this danganronpa victim.
"And I was thinking-- ah, shit... sorry Kokichi, I've just gotten a text from Maki Roll. I'll come visit again soon, okay? She needs me."
I need you.
Kokichi's mouth garbled in response, mice sounds and embarrassing whimpers caught on his closed lips. They parted slightly, enough for his heavy tongue to stifle the cries.
"H-Hey, it's okay dude. I'll be back soon. If it wasn't urgent I wouldn't leave. Why don't you work on getting some words going while I'm gone, okay? I betcha can do it! Nurses said you could start going to therapy if you could get your mouth moving and voice working, you know."
Kaito petted at his hair, Kokichi hated how he relished in it. No one touched him unless necessary besides Kaito.
Kaito Momota had attached a filthy, disabled Rat to his person by simply touch.
As Kaito left Kokichi sniffed weakly and mewled, head finally lolling to the side.
He watched Kaito go.
Kaito told him he would get better every visit, would praise him for minute things, and sate his need for attention and praise. Kaito would talk about Kokichi's room in his house, presumably the only place Kokichi could ever go besides here.
No one else wanted him.
But Kokichi knew he was never leaving the hospital bed.
A truly hopeless ending was fitting, Kokichi had despaired.
Because... because Kokichi was alone now, and he always would be.