Chapter Text
The first thing he was aware of was rainfall pelting against the bedroom window. Kokichi stirred slightly, pulling the blankets tighter around himself and burying his face back in his pillow, thinking how nice it would be to snuggle all day with his husband in this weather. The second thing he was aware of was that Shuichi was not lying next to him. He groaned, smacking the other side of the bed in search of that secondary source of warmth, but it had already grown cold.
That wasn’t fair. It was their day off and Kokichi had lectured him all night about them sleeping in today. What was Shuichi doing up already?
Kokichi forced himself out of bed, wrapping the heavy quilt Tojo had made a few years back around his shoulders and trudged through the room. The cold floor against his feet made him wince and he thought again about begging Shuichi to let him throw a few more rugs around the place.
He found Shuichi in the kitchen, as he’d anticipated. Bluff was perched on the countertop smug as can be as she oversaw Shuichi cooking breakfast. No doubt she’d awoken him because she was positively starving and they were horrible, neglectful parents even though her bowl was full and she hadn’t even touched it. Kokichi gave her a proper, admonishing glare as he collapsed against Shuichi’s back, grumbling his incoherent complaints in between his shoulder blades.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Shuichi hummed, jostling him as he continued flipping the pancakes. Damn Shuichi, always knowing how to placate his disgruntled husband.
“Too early.” Kokichi reminded him, just for good measure.
Bluff leapt down to begin rubbing against Kokichi’s ankles with satisfied purrs. He watched her with narrowed eyes. “You’re a pest, you know that?”
“Don’t say that, I was awake already, I swear. I’m sorry, I know you’d rather we slept until noon.” Shuichi turned around to let the food brown, pulling Kokichi into a hug against his chest. “Did you sleep well, at least? You seemed pretty deep in a dream when I got up.”
“I was faking, of course.” Kokichi lied just to drag out his melodramatics.
“Mhm.” Shuichi clearly wasn’t buying it for a second but opted not to call him out on it this time. Just kissed the crown of his head and released him to give his attention back to the pancakes.
“We will have some errands to run today, okay? We’re out of a few groceries and we need to pick up something to bring to Amami’s tonight anyway. I figured we could-” Shuichi explained, but Kokichi’s attention had migrated.
He hadn’t noticed the TV playing in the background, too familiar with Shuichi’s normal routine of watching the news as he readied for the day to pay the little details much mind. Kokichi wasn’t much of a fan of it anyway. He found it far more exciting to get snowed on out of nowhere than his husband. Besides, the rest of it was boring drivel about Tokyo’s day-to-day, or sad political bullshit that made him more depressed than thinking about how few brain cells poor Momota had been born with. However, a few words had caught his attention — words he hadn’t had to think about in quite a while.
“-marks the 20th anniversary of Team Dangan Ronpa’s cancellation. Given the tragic events on the last ten year mark, many people are left wondering if there will be a repeat this month. Despite assurances from the Military Intelligence and Law Enforcement across Japan, citizens have still been writing in a flood of their concerns. We have the Superintendent General with us today to go more in detail about the measures they’re taking today.”
The camera panned over to some exhausted, gruff-looking man. Kokichi didn’t really hear anything he said over the ringing in his ears. He pulled out his phone and tapped it on. Sure enough, the date confirmed it. He’d known it was coming up, hadn’t he? He felt like there was some conversation weeks ago about it over drinks, fretful vocalizations everyone preferred to keep under a patient-doctor confidentiality agreement instead of potentially worrying everyone else over nothing.
And it was nothing to get worked up about. It was silly that his heart felt like it was going to burst under the constrictive belt around his lungs. This was just another day, the same as last year had been and everyone before it. He'd eat breakfast with Shuichi and play with Bluff and everything would be absolutely, positively fine. Kokichi sucked in a breath, and then another one. There wasn't enough air in his lungs.
Fuck.
He wanted to turn the TV off, the noise, the reminder making him dizzy and disoriented. Oh god, did Shuichi know? He should- instead of, he should turn the TV off so it couldn't upset him too. Only, what if Shuichi was listening? What if it drew his attention? He seemed alright, though. Of course he was. Of course. Because nothing was wrong. They hadn't even been a part of that so what would there be to panic about? Nothing.
Kokichi just needed to… to… He wanted to run, but there wasn't exactly anywhere to go. His hands were shaking, almost dropping his phone. Right, right he was at home, he was safe. There was nothing to run from-
"'Kichi?"
"What?" Kokichi asked dumbly, head snapping up to see Shuichi standing in the doorway of the kitchen. When had he gotten over there? How had Kokichi not noticed? This wasn't like him. He needed to be more observant. Keep an eye out for, for-
"Weren't you getting the utensils? For breakfast?"
"Oh!! Well, obviously. I just needed to get Sherlock's food down first. I, um, noticed the container was empty so… shoo. I'll be there in a moment." Kokichi shrugged, waving Shuichi away. The ringing died down to a steady, distant buzz and the ache lessened into a cold rock, settling in the pit in his stomach like it was keeping everything cracked open and exposed. Could Shuichi tell? Kokichi rarely even bothered properly lying to him past sarcastic comments and the occasional game, just to see if his intuition was still what it used to be. There was hardly ever a point to, though. Shuichi always knew.
However, there was nothing to know. Right? Right. Because Kokichi was perfectly fine.
Sherlock came snuffling up, padding in from where he'd been napping in the living room. After a wet sniff of the bag, Sherlock peered up at him much too inquisitively for Kokichi’s taste.
"What?"
Normally, the German Shepherd mix was very patient while they dished out his food, but today Sherlock pressed forward to lick his hand.
"Stop that! Sit down," Kokichi hissed, glaring half-heartedly at him as he began shoveling food into the container next to his bowl. Sherlock huffed, moving in again for a lingering lick against his knuckles. "Sherlock," Kokichi snapped, voice lowered so Shuichi wouldn't overhear. "Knock it off. No signal, I'm fine. Eat your breakfast."
Sherlock blinked at him, having no right to look so unamused. However, he didn't persist with his signaling and let Kokichi finish up and walk away unpestered.
Shuichi had already served Kokichi a few of the chocolate pancakes, and was in the middle of drowning them in blueberry syrup when Kokichi sat down. On Shuichi’s plate rested an omelet he must have made while Kokichi was spaced out.
"Something extra sweet for some body extra sweet," Shuichi grinned, looking far too pleased with himself as Kokichi’s nose wrinkled.
"How much caffeine did you down before I got up? You're way too chipper. You know you're on a restriction, mister." Kokichi shook his finger at him before taking a massive bite of the pancakes. Absolutely delicious, as usual. It was hard to imagine that Shuichi had ever once been useless in the kitchen, or was supposed to be. Something deep inside him always remembered how, though.
"Only one cup, I promise. I'm just excited to spend the day with you," Shuichi flushed, looking abashed all of a sudden. He shifted nervously in his seat, eyes bouncing between his omelet and Kokichi’s face. It was unnerving, not being certain why his husband was suddenly flummoxed. Obviously not from such a silly confession that he had to know Kokichi reciprocated? "We've both been working too much. I know it's no day in bed together but…"
"You sure you don't want to change your mind? We could cancel on Amami for once . Surely you need the extra sleep after being awake all night."
Shuichi’s eyes widened, "How'd you know? I thought I was so careful!"
Kokichi grinned, "Well, for one, you're never up before me unless you haven't slept. And, secondly, you were up before Bluff . Thirdly, I always know."
Shuichi pursed his lip, cutting up his omelet while he mulled this information over. “Hm, well, they’ve been arguing again so I thought it’d be quiet last night because they don’t talk for days after their fights-”
“Days of bliss,” Kokichi said bitterly, stabbing savagely at his next bite as if it could somehow scare his neighbors into being quiet forever. His husband deserved a full night's rest!
Shuichi gave him a small smile before continuing on. “Well, I guess the blonde ended up feeling really guilty so she made her roommate-”
“I’m pretty sure they’re dating,” Kokichi corrected.
“No, no the dark academic one had that boyfriend a few months ago, remember?” Shuichi explained, waving his hand.
“Don’t be biphobic, Shuichi! They literally only use ‘babe’ to refer to each other. It’s pretty gay.”
Shuichi snorted, narrowing his eyes at him. “Funny. Can I continue?”
“I don’t know, will it make me want to glitter-bomb them any less for robbing you of sleep?”
“Please don’t. They already hate the neighbors down from them. The blond theatre kid is really paranoid. She’s convinced they’re stealing her mail.”
“Is that the one that sings show tunes at 3 am at the top of her lungs?”
“I think so?”
“Cool. I’m gonna find a way to start stealing her mail.”
“Kokichi,” Shuichi sighed but he only looked utterly amused and fond as he stared at his husband over his glasses. “It’s fine. At least they’re interesting! Definitely better than the last tenants.”
“The last tenants were quiet and you slept more often.” Kokichi scowled.
“They were also homophobic and always reporting Sherlock Bones.”
“Remind me why we wanted to live in an apartment complex again?”
Shuichi only rolled his eyes and stood up, gathering the plates. “Go shower and quit pouting. I want to get to the market early before that pastry vendor opens.”
Kokichi’s eyes widened at the prospect of getting fresh crêpes . Surely Shuichi was planning something today. Either he was going to attempt to make a really healthy dinner that he didn’t want Kokichi to turn his nose up at, he was bringing a massive bottle of water that he wanted Kokichi to finish by the end of the day, or the Amami plans were going to be absolutely hellish . All the sugar-plying was definitely suspicious. His sweet tooth was too demanding, however. There was a reason these tactics worked. He satisfied himself with the knowledge that Shuichi was up to some sort of mischief as he gathered his things for the day and prepared himself to be spoiled for it.
***
Both of them had quickly developed a love for shopping at street markets as opposed to superstores early on in their first few years outside of Team DR’s facilities. The open-air walkways and aromas of cooking food were calming in opposition to the overwhelming noise of the crowds. Large stores were always worse for Shuichi’s anxieties than Kokichi’s, but it was still too much. The heat and density of people in one space caused such a bad panic attack the first time he managed to get Shuichi outside, they hadn’t been able to go back out again for nearly a month.
This particular market near their apartment was what had drawn them to the building in the first place. Any excuses to avoid the subway systems. They became quite efficient over the years. Knowing all the best ways to avoid being recognized, the shops they loved the most, which vendors to stop at for lunch if they went out around a mealtime. It was a lot more fun than it used to be. Kokichi usually loved grocery shopping together, each of them holding bags of food and walking close enough that their arms brushed against each other. The light conversation and the laughter behind their face masks.
Today though, he found it difficult to not hang off his husband, clutching the straps of his bags a little tighter than necessary, holding his breath again when they passed cooking meat even though that hadn’t bothered him in years. What was wrong with him? What was the unease turning his stomach? Maybe too many pancakes… Just nausea, probably. Shuichi was right, he really should start having more balanced breakfasts. Maybe he’d let him sneak some protein shake or eggs into his meal next time.
He watched as his boots splashed in the puddles lining the streets instead of paying attention to the vendors setting up late or lowering their umbrellas. The rain had stopped before they’d left, thankfully. As much as Kokichi loved walking in rain showers, he didn’t fancy the idea of wandering around all afternoon in wet clothes while Shuichi fretted over him and Sherlock whined because he hated the rain and wanted to go home. This was much preferable.
Sherlock knocked his leg, shielding him from a passerby walking a little too close. Kokichi offered him a quiet good boy.
These sorts of days were frustrating.
Dangan Ronpa truly was a bastard of a company. A broiling disgust for them stirred in his stomach as his skin prickled thinking about people watching him, as he questioned what was real. Something in the back of his head was trying to remind him of something, a long-forgotten exercise, but he was too busy finding his eyes searching the crowd.
Pink hair, warm, a flash of a face he didn’t see because he pictured that girl, one of the few they managed to rescue that he could never remember because when he saw her , he thought of Iruma, and his chest hurt. Everything was blurry, and he felt hot-
No one was watching him, everything was fine.
There were so many people, he wasn’t safe, if someone tried to grab Shuichi - god forbid, recognized him - he would be helpless. Too many, they were outnumbered. Three by the stand of fresh fish, a dangling Usami keychain and he felt sick.
Shuichi was saying something but he just gripped his hand tighter, told himself he could just hold on and no one would take him away but it was dangerous why had they come out he hadn’t wanted to this wasn’t safe . Shuichi cut his hair last week, why had he done that? It wasn’t like Kokichi’s anymore, long, braided down his back - hair sticking to his sweaty neck - a chop that barely reached his shoulders and resembled an old look too much - he was so recognizable today. That stupid fan with the stupid keychain was whispering to her friends and turning to look at them and that was enough it was enough they had to leave they needed to run before-
Ice dripped down his spine, soaking his, admittedly, already sticky, feverish skin. Cold pressed against the back of his neck, a shock enough for him to see Shuichi in front of his face. A hand, familiar band glinting in the weak Sun, cupped his cheek and effectively blocked the sight of the street to their right.
“Deep breath, Ko. Deep, slow… I’m right here. Want me to count for you?”
Kokichi squinted, processing the request and not understanding it in the slightest. “Wh-what?” he wheezed, choking on his own breaths. When had it gotten so frantic and fast?
Warm pressure against his leg and hip from something pressed against him caught his attention too. He glanced down to see Sherlock leaning against him, eagerly nudging his arm with his wet nose. Shakily he ran his hand over Sherlock’s head, fingers scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Hi, buddy.”
“Kokichi?” Shuichi asked softly, the cold bottle against the back of his neck rolling slightly as his husband drew closer.
Kokichi brought his gaze back up, focusing on Shuichi’s eyes. Everything had that weird hazy, tilted quality to it from the lack of oxygen to his brain, making him dizzy and even more confused.
“Do you need to sit down?” Shuichi inquired, drawing the bottle away from his neck so he could hold Kokichi upright with both hands. The cold fingers around his elbows were strangely grounding.
Kokichi nodded after a moment, loathing even needing to do this. There weren’t very many private places to hide in the street, lined so heavily with carts and shops. Shuichi had managed to tuck them into a small corner next to a protruding shop wall. Most of the privacy came from the way Shuichi loomed over him, shielding him from onlookers. His husband helped him to kneel down, leaning heavily against the wall his back was against. Shuichi stayed crouched slightly above him to keep people from seeing him and, more importantly, Kokichi from seeing any onlookers. Sherlock was moved behind Shuichi too as an extra precaution, forcing anyone a little too curious to keep their distance.
“Okay, slow, deep breath for me. In for one, two, three, four, five, good! Really good, okay hold for two, three, and out for one, two-” Shuichi spoke softly but clear, just loud enough for Kokichi to hear.
As soon as his breathing had normalized, Shuichi took his hand and they began walking as directly as possible back to their apartment. Sherlock was very determined, pulling ahead and clearing a way for them as any passerby gave the service dog a respectable berth. Kokichi kept his head ducked and decided right now he didn’t care too much about being clingy with his husband. He just needed to leave and was quite happy to feel safe with the physical reassurance of his hand squeezing tightly around Shuichi’s.
They were safe, they were safe, they were safe, they were safe.
Sherlock began whining again as they made it into the lobby and headed for the elevator.
“Stairs?” Shuichi asked, turning to look at him as he gave Sherlock a head pat for the small alert.
“No, no. I’m- goddamnit, I’m fine. This is so stupid. I can take the stupid elevator, I-I-” Kokichi hissed, smacking the call button a little harder than necessary. “There’s no reason for us to lug this much food up eight flights of stairs.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s nothing. Let’s just put these away and get ready for Amami’s, okay?” Sherlock licked his trembling fingers with yet another insistent whine. “ Stop it. We’re fine, I’m fine. Nobody’s dying so- so-”
Shuichi sighed and pulled them both into the elevator. “Can I hug you?”
Kokichi bit his tongue, fighting back the knee-jerk desire to push him away. He swallowed and took a deep breath and gave a small, quick nod. As Shuichi rushed forward, he fell into his arms.
This was safe. Something both familiar and reassuring and definitively separate from any experience he had in that game. Shuichi protected him and he protected Shuichi in turn. Feeling his husband in his arms calmed his panicked heart, that familiar smell, the steady warmth and pressure… Shuichi wasn’t going anywhere. Never had. Team Dangan Ronpa hadn’t succeeded in taking him away and nothing else would.
“I’m here,” breathed into his ear and hands rubbed his back soothingly.
The elevator dinged, pulling the pair apart as they trudged out and down the hall towards their apartment at the furthest end. Sherlock practically dragged Kokichi to the door, tugging as hard as he was.
“Eager to see Bluff again?” Kokichi teased, knowing full well everyone present just wanted to get him back in the apartment.
Shuichi snickered as he unlocked the door, taking the single bag Kokichi was holding into the kitchen, leaving Kokichi to unharness Sherlock. Kokichi huffed, staring down at the German Shepherd for a few beats.
“You’re a traitorous snitch, you know that? You do remember you’re meant to help Shuichi and not me, don’t you?” Sherlock just wagged his tail, nudging Kokichi’s knee to be let go. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not forgiving you for this.”
He knelt down and undid the buckles, grimacing when Sherlock licked his chin.
“You’re not doing yourself any favors!”
Sherlock just bounded away to go find Bluff.
“Feeling better?” Shuichi hummed, coming back in from the kitchen. “Must be if Sherlock left you alone.”
Kokichi rolled his eyes, letting Shuichi pull him into a loose embrace. “I told you earlier I was fine, dummy. You’re both overreacting.”
Shuichi’s lips pressed into a thin line like when he wasn’t sure whether or not he should speak his mind. Kokichi shifted uncomfortably wishing they could just let this moment pass and continue on with their day. It was quite enough humiliation for him for a whole week. He knew Shuichi likely would respect that, always apt at knowing when he should press a matter or leave it well alone and let his husband come to him about it when he was ready.
Even still… clearly ignoring the issue wasn’t doing him any favors.
“Go ahead,” Kokichi muttered reluctantly into Shuichi’s shoulder.
Shuichi kissed the top of his head and pulled him back to give him a small, appreciative smile. To Kokichi’s surprise, he didn’t open his mouth yet, merely took Kokichi’s hand and led him into the kitchen. All the groceries had been put away as he suspected and a pan was starting to simmer on their stovetop.
“Sorry, can’t leave the milk alone or it will burn,” Shuichi explained apologetically, stirring it without dropping Kokichi’s hand.
A broken-up bar of melting chocolate lay nearby along with two mugs and Kokichi saw that Shuichi’s precious coffee maker was on and dripping into one of them.
“More coffee?” Kokichi scolded, narrowing his eyes up at him as he leaned back into Shuichi’s side.
“Okay, so I’m a little more tired than I mentioned earlier,” Shuichi gave in sheepishly. “But you’ll allow it in exchange for hot chocolate, right?”
“I thought the hot chocolate was to bribe me into honesty.”
Shuichi’s shoulders drew up slightly around his ears, face reddening. “It’s… not exactly that. I just… it’s comforting and you’re stressed so-”
Kokichi leaned forward, up onto his tiptoes to kiss Shuichi’s cheek. “Relax. It’s appreciated. But I’m demanding you try to nap before Amami’s.”
“As long as you have some water while you’re waiting.”
Kokichi grinned and trudged over to their fridge for a bottle. “You drive a hard bargain mister, but it’s a deal.” He took a sip of the cold water and played up his gag at the bland, neutral flavor just to make Shuichi laugh at his antics. The air was way too serious. It was making his hands sweat and he loathed it.
They played around for a while longer, eventually joined by Bluff, whose favorite place to sunbathe in the apartment was the window above the sink, second only to her cat tree in the hallway, and Sherlock, who Kokichi sincerely hoped was just following around the family and wasn’t staring at him in preparation for yet another alert. Thankfully, the dog just laid down with his sad ‘please pet me’ eyes and watched as Shuichi finished up their warm drinks. Kokichi grabbed Shuichi's mug as the machine beeped, drizzling a spoonful of caramel syrup into it as Shuichi was busy dumping goodies into Kokichi’s drink. He spotted several colored marshmallows bobbing around before they were blanketed under an overabundant helping of whipped cream and sprinkles, his husband even wiping off the side of the mug where the drink had splattered when he poured it because he remembered how Kokichi hated to get his fingers sticky.
Shuichi leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss as they passed each other their respective beverages, holding his mug up to his nose to breathe in the steam like an addict.
“Get your last kisses in before you drink that sludge, I’m not interested in getting a secondhand caffeine buzz off you or having your nasty coffee breath in my face.” Kokichi called over his shoulder as he moved past their dining table into their partitioned-off living room.
“Your ploy to get me to dump it out isn’t going to work. It’s been sixteen years too many to fool me, beloved.” Shuichi said, face utterly unbothered and too blissed out about being shoved into his cup to probably even process Kokichi’s words.
Kokichi set his mug down on a coaster that Yonaga had made for them last year per Shuichi’s request and flopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Almost immediately, Bluff hopped into his lap, rubbing her face against his stomach in a plea for pets. He scritched under her chin absentmindedly, gazing around at their plants to avoid having to look at Shuichi’s knowing gaze. Their apartment had become a bit of a greenhouse over the years, almost every surface housing something green and flowering. A few months after they’d been released into the general public, Shuichi had a breakdown. Too scared to brave leaving his apartment to be harassed by paparazzi, it was easy to be overwhelmed with the feeling that he was still in some ways imprisoned. The plants had been Amami’s idea, a way to liven the place up and give him a distraction, a hobby, for while he remained stuck indoors. All of them were very leafy or flowering and none of them had anything resembling a vine.
Shuichi cleared his throat, nudging Kokichi’s thigh with his foot. Kokichi bit his tongue, kicking his feet back and forth a few times to feel the plush, electric-blue rug as some kind of reassurance, swallowed, and finally looked up at him. “Would you like to stay home and play chess with me, instead of going to Amami’s?”
Kokichi bristled, glaring at him. “I don’t need you to-”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting, Kokichi. You were very clear this morning that you preferred to stay home today, and I pushed you, and I’m sorry. I know you’d be okay, and this isn’t about that. I just… I probably wasn’t very subtle, even though we were trying to be but… the whole point of everyone meeting up today, just like we do almost every month, was so we could all have something else to look forward to, a distraction… a… familiar comfort. Something that wasn’t this damn anniversary, okay? So if it’s not helpful, there’s no point in us going.”
“No, I appreciate it, but, no. I want to go. You’re right. It is familiar and I’m not going to let them control my life, okay? It’s been 20 years. They don’t get to make me feel like this. We’re going. I wanted to stay home, before I remembered that- I’m not staying home for this .” Kokichi shook his head firmly, focusing his gaze back on Bluff as she started purring.
“Then… Do you want to at least talk about what’s going on in your head right now? I can guess, obviously, but… I feel like there’s more to it. Is it just the anniversary, or…?”
He sighed, grabbing his drink again and taking a long gulp from it. Maybe he was stalling, or maybe he just needed time to think about it himself… maybe both. He hadn’t exactly let himself think about it in the first place beforehand. “It’s not this, no. I mean, it’s just another stupid year. I don’t care about it anymore, I hardly even think about it. I didn’t even notice it was coming up. I didn’t care last year, or the year before because… they’re gone . We’re all living our lives and we go out and we’re so far removed from what they made us for, you know, even the hardcore fans they wouldn’t even blink twice.”
Shuichi nodded understandingly and Kokichi swallowed around the knot in his throat. It was so frustrating that this was happening. He hated it. It was ridiculous and stupid and it pissed him off. There was no reason for him to feel this way.
“We weren’t even there, right? So,” Kokichi cut himself off with a snort, taking another drink. Shuichi made the best hot chocolate. He tried to think about that instead of his overwhelming need to redirect the conversation.
“Is this about the fan game?” Shuichi spoke up when Kokichi didn’t continue right away.
Kokichi clenched his jaw, fingers aching from holding the handle of his mug so tightly. Sherlock stirred from his bed across the room, lifting his head tiredly to look in their direction. Stupid dog.
“Of course not. God, Shuichi, it was… what? Five, eight years ago? It was sick, but… why would I even care about that? No, no, I just. I saw some silly DR pin at the market and my brain flipped out. I told you it wasn’t that big of a deal-”
“Kokichi.” Shuichi’s voice wasn’t exactly admonishing, but it was also rather apparent he didn’t believe him at all .
A hard exhale through his nose, drew his legs up and forced Bluff onto the lemon-yellow couch cushion. In place of her warm weight, he tugged one of their frivolous and useless throw pillows into his arms to pull at the button in the center.
He hated thinking about that day. Truthfully, it shouldn’t matter. Yeah, it was horrible, but god he had his own fucking trauma to flashback to and breakdown over. Some stranger’s tragedy wasn’t his crisis.
Yet, he couldn’t help feeling that they were blindly lucky that they hadn’t gotten pulled into it. Remembered the swarm of reporters, some of the sick bastards that thought their friends had something to do with it, the extra publicity. Everyone talked about it for weeks as they found more and more bases across the entire globe.
It was frighteningly well-planned out. One in almost every major country. Most of the people involved were volunteers, fans that remembered the “glory days” of Dangan Ronpa and wanted to revive it. Ones that felt robbed of the opportunity to be a part of it. But they wanted accuracy , wanted that energy of panic, someone that wanted to escape. Without the resources of the long-since destroyed Team DR technology for memory erasure and character programming, they took a different route. And that’s where the kidnappings came into play.
He remembers the panic they felt every day as they waited for confirmation that they’d all been shut down, and tries not to think about how many didn’t survive it. Remembered the nightmares he’d had for months that they’d gotten to him, or Shuichi, or anyone he’d grown to care about over the last decade. One that wasn’t a virtual reality, wasn’t something they’d come back from.
“You’re not silly for being afraid it could happen again, you know? Yeah, it’s been ten years but… It was a moment where we’d all felt safe and the rug was pulled out from under us. It's the same year marker as last time. It’s logical to feel how you are, right now.” Shuichi explained after a few times of Kokichi failing to start speaking. He felt a shift on the couch and glanced over to see Shuichi scooting closer, coffee mug clinking on their center table so he could have his arms free to scoop up Bluff, effectively removing any obstacles between them.
“I don’t want to be, though.” Kokichi retorted before he could fully process a response. “It’s exhausting living my life crawling back under rocks and having it all thrown in my face over and over and over. I don’t want to go back outside again and see everything on fire and people shoving cameras in my face asking if I’m responsible, or if I feel lucky to have avoided it this time. I want to have control over my own life back and not go outside again and think someone’s going to grab me or recognize you or- or- or… I don’t care if it’s sensical that I’m processing it this way or if I’m valid or… I want to have a night out with you and the only time it matters what day it is when it’s our anniversary.”
Shuichi nodded thoughtfully for a few moments, mulling that over. “Okay. I hear you. Do you want to try something with me?”
Kokichi met his gaze, intrigued. He hadn’t been expecting a suggestion. “If it’s another breathing exercise-”
“No, no. Not like that. I was just thinking… you’re feeling out of control so… it reminded me how I was feeling a couple of weeks ago. I was just so angry and frustrated about keeping my hair so long all the time, just because I was scared about being recognizable. And then I just kind of thought… God, it’s been twenty years. If I want to cut my hair, I should. DR doesn’t hold a copyright on some stupid hairstyle. It’s my hair. I thought I’d feel sick going out the next day, but… I don’t know, it helped. I wasn’t stressed about how hard it was to maintain long hair anymore, and it was one less thing in my day that actively reminded me about ever being tied to them. We don’t have to do anything like that for you, but… I just thought I’d suggest it and maybe… We could figure out something tangible to do?”
“You want me to cut my hair?”
Shuichi shook his head. “Nope. I mean, we can if you like, but I think you enjoy yours a little more than I did. You seem like you have fun with it in a way I never really did, with the braids and everything. And besides, your natural hair is curlier, not some over-styled look for television so… you don’t even need the length as much. Honestly, I was thinking, because your favorite color is obviously still purple, but you only let yourself do white or your natural black-or that time it had that really pretty bright blue highlight? Maybe it’d be okay to do purple again. Because you want to, and it makes you happy, and it’s one less thing they own.”
“I don’t think we have the resources to dye my hair right now.”
“I wouldn’t want to do it this second anyway. I’m not sure how your brain would react to it impulsively without thinking about it for a while. It’s just something to consider, like… a goal to have that’s moving forward. We can come up with something else though if that’s not what you’d be interested in!”
Kokichi grinned at him, twisting around and pushing Bluff away so he could be in Shuichi’s lap instead. “No, I like it. And I really like your short hair too. I like stealing things away from Team DR, after all. So, what would you have me do right now? ‘cause I’m really disinterested in sitting here moping about this for four hours waiting to go to Amami’s.”
“You don’t want to talk about it anymore?” Shuichi prodded hopefully, drawing patterns on Kokichi’s arm as he spoke.
“ Absolutely not .”
“Okay, well. Then we need a good distraction. You want to try to teach me the mechanics of that video game again?” Shuichi suggested, fingers playing with Kokichi’s braid while they cuddled.
“Hm, for a little while. But you are not getting out of that nap, mister. You’re getting at least two hours.” Kokichi told him firmly.
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
***
Kokichi capped his eyeliner as his phone’s alarm went off, interrupting his music. Time to wake up Shuichi. He’d been snoring when Kokichi finally wiggled out from his arms to get ready for Amami’s. The current look wasn’t exactly dyed purple hair but… it was something. And it was a tangible thing he could do right now as Shuichi had said.
Wild purple eyeshadow smudged around his corners and up towards his brows, and under his left eye, he’d drawn on a pair of dice, a six and two. Not much, but it was a remembrance. A twinge of sadness, but it felt good anyhow. DR thought they’d robbed him of family, of people, of anyone at all in the world when he’d been thrown in. He got out and still, it felt like maybe they were right for a really long time.
He had a family, however. Obnoxious friends that he hated, and ones that forgave him, and ones that admittedly he didn’t hate so much. He had his husband, he had Bluff. He had Sherlock, even if the dog was temporarily disowned for being a filthy snitch. It had been twenty years and no one had gone anywhere.
And they weren’t going to. And maybe it was okay that he felt safe that they wouldn’t.
Kokichi took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror, swallowing that mushy stuff down to think about later when there wasn’t makeup at risk of smudging from tears.
It didn’t take Shuichi nearly as long to get ready, beyond the few minutes extra Kokichi spent shoving him off him because he’d ruin everything with all the kisses. Finally, they approached the door, coats on and Sherlock harnessed and ready to head out. Kokichi took Shuichi’s hand, opened the door, and decisively pulled his husband out into the hallway.