Chapter Text
Waking up with a helmet on his head and a soft, steady beeping somewhere nearby was not the weirdest way Kokichi has started a morning. Afternoon? Night? The room was so dark, he couldn’t gauge the time of day.
“Ah, you’re up. I had a feeling from watching the feed.”
He didn’t recognize that voice. The room was so dark, albeit a muted TV screen across the room, that Kokichi couldn’t make out the two forms sitting in chairs beside him. From what he could see, he knew he was in a hospital. For what? He scrambled through his memories and couldn’t place how he ended up here.
He sure as hell knew that the academy didn’t have a hospital, he searched that place as thoroughly as possible.
Kokichi reached to remove the helmet, but his arms felt like someone injected him with lead. His muscles ached, much like he hadn’t moved in so long. He wiggled his toes to test the waters, pleased he still had some mobility. So he was exhausted, not paralyzed. He could work with exhausted.
“Don’t push yourself. You’ve been asleep for a while.”
That voice, he knew all too well.
“Sup, slut. What hell are we in where my reward is waking up to your ugly mug?”
Well, that’s what he wanted to say to Miu Iruma, but all that left his mouth was a wheeze that ended with a wet cough. Holy shit, what happened to him? His throat burned, the cough only adding fuel to the fire.
“Kokichi, breathe. It’s going to be hard at first, okay?” That unknown voice again. Kokichi squinted his eyes, focusing on the bigger form hiding in the dark. Something about his tone of voice reminded him of someone, but the spot between his eyebrows throbbed at the thought. “You haven’t moved in months. You need to relax. It’s for your own safety.”
He glanced toward Miu, hoping she would pick up on his unvoiced question. She shifted in her chair, playing with the ends of her hair. Through the dark, Kokichi noted that she changed from her bright, revealing clothing to a more modest, dull gray hoodie and sweatpants. It reminded him of people going through physical therapy or people with an addiction of sorts. He found himself snorting, remembering how Miu was searching for drugs when he first met her, and his eyes stung from the sudden movement, water flooding to them.
Out of all things to remember first, he had to remember Miu fixated on finding a high. He mentally punched first-impression-Miu out of his head.
Miu ignored the obvious question looming in the air, because of course she would, she’s Miu and can’t pick up on social cues or neon signs flashing in her face. Instead, she asked, stuttering nervously, “W-What’s the last th-thing you remember?”
Kokichi tried to give her his best “shouldn’t you be telling me what’s going on?” face he could muster, which only resulted in him squinting his eyes and his mouth forming a thin straight line. Miu sighed, missing the point. Dammit, dammit, dammit, he felt useless and Miu was useless. He’d get nowhere at this rate.
“I understand if y-you don’t w-want to t-talk to me.” She played with her hair again. “It is k-kinda my fault things went to sh-shit, huh?”
The throbbing between his eyebrows returned. He should know what she’s talking about, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall anything passed… His eyes widened.
“I died, didn’t I? That incestial piece of shit killed me!”
He was surprised at his own voice, but he kept his composure so the others wouldn’t catch it. However, the unknown male’s hand flew to his chin as he thought over something. The throb intensified.
“Korekiyo?” Miu sounded more confused than he felt. Her hands dropped to her lap.
Kokichi fought the urge to slap sense into her, not like he could if he wanted to anyways. “I fell through the floorboards, you idiot. I know you saw me after. You pointed and laughed.”
“Oh.”
“I bled out, didn’t I? That dick got three kills under his belt!” Kokichi coughed again as he tried to sit up. The man held a hand to his chest, forcing him to lay back down. “Karma’s a bitch. I’ll make his life a living hell when he sees his stunt didn’t work—“
“Kokichi, you didn’t die by Korekiyo.”
Kokichi’s rant caught in his throat. He searched, searched, and searched further than the start of the class trial, but his mind went black once he gave Shuichi the little hint he held onto tightly until the right moment. Everyone else was too stupid to put the pieces together except for Shuichi, and no one believed Kokichi when it really counted, so he made sure to perfectly place hints when Shuichi was ready to understand. He wondered if the detective trusted him deep down, and that’s why he took his hints at face value or explored the possibilities… but that was beside the point at the moment. The last image burned into his mind was Shuichi raising a hand to his chin once Kokichi dropped a bomb in typical fashion fit of a supreme leader.
Shuichi and that stupid motion.
Kokichi chewed the inside of his lip, a sad replacement for biting his nails since the only part of him that seemed to function correctly was his mouth. Typical. So he let it run once the puzzle piece fell in place.
“You’re Shuichi’s uncle.” It was meant to come out confident, self-assured as always because Kokichi was a genius, and he knew it. No one had to tell him answers because he always figured it out, and the small details he sometimes missed were filled in by Shuichi, who he held in the same regards. Instead, there was a slight lilt to uncle, turning his statement into more of a question, and there’s no way Shuichi’s uncle missed it.
“Ah, despite everything, you still have enough mind to figure things out.” A soft smile. Kokichi chewed his lip harder, noting the skip in the introduction. “I have a lot of explaining to do.”
“And you needed the slut here to help you?”
“Shut up, you purple gremlin!” Miu’s anger melted away and the light all but faded from her eyes. She was forcing herself to be nice, and Kokichi hated it. He never disliked Miu despite her tendencies, in fact, under different circumstances, they could’ve been great friends eventually. He enjoyed their banter, and it almost deflated him to see her fun side shoved down. “Uh, well… I’m here to soften the blow. The only two people out here that you remotely seemed okay with were me and Gonta, and Gonta doesn’t exactly want to see you right now.”
Gonta didn’t want to see him? That too-pure-for-his-own-good dummy? Kokichi tasted iron on his tongue. He must’ve missed a lot while being out.
“We don’t have much time, Miu. He needs to be caught up.”
“I-I-I don’t know how to explain it, Mr. Saihara.” Miu wouldn’t meet Kokichi’s eyes. “It’s, um, he’ll hate me. He doesn’t remember past trial three.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” warned Kokichi. He wanted to size up Miu, but his body protested. “I’ll have my followers kill you for withholding information. Supreme leaders don’t like being kept out of the loop, you know.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Mr. Saihara squeezed the bridge of his nose. “DICE doesn’t exist. It never did. You’ve been in a simulation for the duration of the killing game. You were killed in the game, now you’re awake on the other side. None of it was real.”
Kokichi snorted again before falling into a laughing fit. Mr. Saihara’s eyes widened, similar to how Shuichi’s would when Kokichi did something unpredictable, something against how a normal person would react to their situation. Tears trailed from his eyes as his laughs intensified.
“See, I told you.” Miu rolled her eyes. Finally, an action typical of her. “He doesn’t believe you.”
“I may be concussed, but I’m not a moron,” said Kokichi once his breathing evened out. All emotion drained from his face.
“You’re not concussed.”
“You’re a cruel man for telling people the pain they feel is fake, Mr. Saihara.”
“I--”
“What about emotional pain? Is that fake, too?” Kokichi showed Mr. Saihara that smile, the one that set everyone on edge when he spoke about topics they refused to hear.
“Do you believe the pain your nephew felt watching Kaede die isn’t real?”
Miu’s hand gripped Kokichi’s wrist with an iron grip, sure to leave bruises later. All sense of nervousness and fear was replaced with resolve.
“I know you don’t know the outcome of the inventions I made for you, but you do remember what you said to me when you handed me those plans, right?” Miu squeezed harder. “I asked why you wanted an electrohammer and electrobomb, and you looked me in the eyes and said--”
“‘I’m here to put on a show,’” he finished with her. He remembered that. Kokichi slipped Miu those blueprints only a few hours before Korekiyo decided to off Angie and Tenko.
“At the time, I thought you said that because you’re a dick,” explained Miu. Kokichi couldn’t recall any time when she held such solid eye contact. “Now I know what was going on in that brain of yours. Congratulations, asswipe. You were right. We were on a TV show this whole time.”
For the first time since waking up, Kokichi examined the TV across the room. It was on mute, but he didn’t have to hear it to know. In the bottom right corner, “Dangan Ronpa V3” was written in an annoying font, and in a smaller size below it read “Himiko Cam!” Himiko sat in her room alone, her knees pulled to her chest. Her forehead rested on her arms, her small frame shook from crying. She squeezed her hat with one hand every time her body calmed, only to be overcome with emotion again seconds later.
Kokichi did what he always did when he heard news he struggled to bear, he buried it deep within his soul until he was alone to burn through it. He refused to share his innermost thoughts with those in the killing, and he sure as hell wouldn’t start anytime soon outside of the game. Last time he handed his problems to someone… He burned that thought away before he fell down a different rabbit hole.
“Did I at least go out in style?” Kokichi forced his mask back on, smiling like nothing bothered him.
Miu bought it, matching his smile. “You created the best trial Dangan Ronpa has ever seen. People were losing their shit.”
“You have a lot to be caught up on,” said Mr. Saihara. Kokichi almost forgot he was there. “Team Dangan Ronpa will be here for you soon, but I wanted to thank you before they pulled you.”
“And I wanted to a-apologize.” Miu sat up straight. “But if you’re gonna act like a blackout drunk, then I’m not sorry!”
“Unless you grovel, your apology means nothing to a supreme leader.” Kokichi turned back to Mr. Saihara. “And I don’t want your pitiful thanks. The killing game is continuing. I failed, I guess. I’ll take my leave.”
“I want to thank you for taking care of Shuichi.” He turned his head to the side, the same way Shuichi did when he became flustered. So, his uncle must be where Shuichi picked up his mannerisms. “I know you don’t remember, but I need you to know I’m grateful. I can’t bring myself to watch his feed now that--that you’re gone.”
The throb returned with full force, his brain and heart competed to escape his body. What the hell kind of reaction was that? Something, something he forgot, something important. Something to do with Shuichi? Kokichi hated not being one step ahead, he wanted to scream.
Mr. Saihara’s watch beeped, and Miu sank in her seat, her eyes sinking to the floor. Was that sadness he caught? Mr. Saihara stood, carefully pulling Kokichi’s helmet off.
“Sorry about this, but Team Dangan Ronpa is aware you’re awake now. Miu, help me move him to his wheelchair? We can’t be late to his post DR interview.”