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It was rare for Shuichi to experience the sensation of free-falling. Of course, he felt it when he went on carnival rides that nearly dropped their riders, or occasionally while suddenly waking up from a dream. But he hadn’t expected to be feeling it like this: sitting in a mildly uncomfortable plastic chair, across a table from his parents.
Shuichi was practically raised by his uncle. He had some faint memories of running around some film set, part of one of the mics clutched triumphantly in his three-year-old self’s hands. But that was about all. His uncle was the one who walked Shuichi to his first kindergarten class, who he asked for help with his homework, and who was in the crowd when he graduated high school (one of the most prestigious high schools no less!). Things that parents traditionally did.
The worst of it was the questions. In first grade, he burst into tears when his classmates asked him why he didn’t have a mom and dad (although this did lead him to meet his friend Kaito, who was being raised by his grandparents). Shuichi just never knew how to explain that no, his parents were alive and well, and yes, the Saiharas that you see credited on all of those huge blockbuster movies were related to him. His father was one of the most highly acclaimed directors, and his mother was an actress, having debuted at sixteen and only gotten more and more popular. They married when his father was 21 and his mother was 19, and Shuichi was an accident that happened about a year later.
Yes, he knew that he was a mistake. His mother had even told him that if it wasn’t for the publicity and pregnancy-related advertising opportunity, that she would have gotten rid of him. She said it without any malice, and Shuichi doubted that she understood how hurtful being told that was. His mother just saw it as a fact. He was turned over to his uncle just two weeks before his fourth birthday, and that was that. And it wasn’t like he never saw his parents; on the contrary, they came to visit him for two or three days every year, before going back to pretending that they didn’t have a son. How thoughtful of them.
They hadn’t even come to visit when he was freed from that sadistic simulation of a killing game. Shuichi had been literally kidnapped, had his memories all fucked with, and was thrown into a simulation for a popular TV show against his will. And they hadn’t bothered to even show up to check in on him.
This visit had gone about as Shuichi had expected it would. His parents dragged him to fancy restaurants, and his mother bought him a bunch of expensive clothes and other things that he didn’t need, most likely trying to make herself feel like she was a good mom. This particular visit had been highlighted by his mother hounding him to dye his hair blonde. She insisted it was much more “in-fashion” than Shuichi’s natural dark blue-black. He just did his best to avoid talking about it, since he liked his hair the way it was, thank you very much.
The final afternoon of their visit had finally arrived, after what felt like three weeks instead of three days. His father had found a fancy cafe to have brunch at, and Shuichi silently came along without protest. Despite it being brunch, his parents ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate spending time with their son. Shuichi declined to partake, sticking with his normal, familiar order of a black coffee.
After two glasses of champagne each, and before their food even arrived, his mother and father had turned to look at him after a shared look and a minute of silent communication. His father had his “business” face on, while his mother was beaming with excitement. Shuichi just sipped his coffee and tried to ignore the growing sensation of pure dread that had begun to swell in his chest.
“So, your father and I heard about your starring debut role in Danganronpa,” his mother began, clasping her hands together. Ah, so they had heard about that. It’s not like he was surprised, considering just how popular Danganronpa was, but they hadn’t mentioned it at all before this.
“Starring is a bit much–” Shuichi tried to say, only to be interrupted by his mother’s excitement.
“Don’t be so modest! We were so proud!” Oh. That… that ignited a tiny flame of warmth in him. Just that small bit of praise felt so nice to hear. It was almost enough to make him forget about the fact that the conversation was centered around what had easily been the most traumatizing event in his life. “You’re our son, of course you have such stellar acting skills! Your sadness, your anger, it was palpable through the screen!”
“You… you watched it?” Shuichi asked, his hands tightening around his coffee cup. His father nodded in confirmation.
“We didn’t miss an episode, despite our busy filming schedules.” Right, when Danganronpa had aired six months ago, his parents were in the middle of filming a spin-off movie from yet another one of the successful franchises that they were involved with.
“Thank you, but… none of that was acting,” Shuichi said, staring down into his drink. “I thought all that was real. It was horrible.”
“Well, character immersion is an important part of any good show or film,” his mother replied with a nod. “Such a next level of it is simply amazing!”
It took a herculean amount of self-control not to look up and stare at her with a gaping jaw. Well, stare or snap and scream at her about how he truly thought he had lost everything, how he had watched his friends brutally murder or be slaughtered, and all she cared about was the technology behind it?
“So of course, we had to reach out to Team Danganronpa, because your father had a simply genius idea for the next season,” his mother continued, oblivious to Shuichi’s distress. His father reached into his bag, pulling out a thick stack of papers and placing them in front of Shuichi. He ignored the way his hands were shaking as he picked them up and began flipping through the pile.
“What… what is all this?” He forced himself to finally say, his brain outright refusing to absorb any of the information. There were pages and pages of typed notes, a draft of an episode script, and several legal documents. His mother excitedly answered his question.
“The proposal and partnership papers and the like!” Shuichi had never seen her this enthusiastic about something, which, for some reason, only made him dread what was coming next all that much more. “ So, for season 54 of Danganronpa, the Ultimate Detective Shuichi Saihara returns, still emotionally taxed by the horrors of the last killing game! The other two survivors didn’t last very long in the outside world, so he’s alone. Driven insane by his grief, Shuichi snaps, giving in to despair, and becomes the mastermind of a brand-new killing game!”
He dropped the papers on the table. He didn’t necessarily mean to, but he was shaking so hard that he could hold on to anything at the moment. The earth felt like it had given way beneath Shuichi, sending him falling, tumbling into an abyss. Free-falling. He could tell that his breaths had become erratic because he was suddenly desperate for oxygen despite being outside. He felt as if he could puke his literal intestines up onto the table, and honestly, it would be appropriate for the situation. The edges of his vision were darkening, he was hyperventilating and falling, falling to his death. But all he could see were his parent's expectant, smiling faces staring back at him.
“The mastermind?” He finally choked out, his voice just as strained as he knew it would be. His mother clearly misinterpreted what exactly his reaction meant.
“Yes! Isn’t that so exciting?” She reached across the table to take his hands, but he yanked them away, wrapping them tightly around himself. Touch was the last thing he needed right now. “And it would be a family production! Your father and I would direct and help write the script, and you would star in it! We’ll finally be together, Shuichi!”
For all the times he had cried himself to sleep when he was younger, wondering why his parents didn’t want him, Shuichi never wanted this.
“Do you hear yourself?” He managed to gasp out again, watching shakily as his parent’s expressions grew confused. “What you’re asking me to do? To willingly relive all of that? I know that the mastermind gets their memories erased too, Tsumugi confirmed it. You want me to go back to believing that I watched my friends slaughter, and murder each other, that I had to see them executed in the most… cruel and sadistic ways possible. You want me to relive and return to that reality and then do it again? Watch as more innocent people are massacred, and worse yet, be the one who’s behind it all?” His parents exchanged looks, clearly not having expected this reaction. How could they not have?
“Shuichi, it’s just acting,” his father replied, looking startled at the barking laugh that he got in response.
“The most immersive acting possible! Not knowing that reality’s not reality and that none of it’s real!” Shuichi shook his head, still barely believing that they even came up with this, and thought that he would be okay, even excited about it! “You said yourself that I’ve been what, ‘emotionally taxed’? I still wake up screaming after watching my friends die over and over again in my nightmares! None of that is acting, it’s just PTSD!” His legs were finally stable enough to support him, so he stood up. In doing so, his chair crashed backward, and his hip bumped into the table, upending the champagne and coffee all over the proposal papers. It wasn’t purposeful, but he sort of wished that it was.
“Shuichi! How can you be so ungrateful for this opportunity?” His father snapped at him, standing up as well, which caused Shuichi to begin stepping away from the table. “This is supposed to bring us together as a family!”
“I’ll see you next year,” was all Shuichi could bring himself to say before fleeing. He knew it was a cowardly move, but he didn’t even dare to peek back over his shoulder as tears streaked hotly down his face.
Kokichi was exactly where Shuichi expected him to be: in his apartment, laying on the couch in the most sprawled out starfish-like position that he could contort himself into, and watching compilations of children tripping, falling, or messing up in some sort of capacity, and laughing maniacally. Kaede had sent him the link to a video like that a couple of days ago, and Kokichi still had yet to get tired of watching clips of kids ending up with a faceful of pavement.
Shuichi had mostly gotten his crying under control by the time he was using his key to open the door, and he entered the apartment quietly. Kokichi seemed to have some sort of “Shuichi radar” as he popped up right away.
“Shumai! You have to come watch, this little fucker just ate absolute shit, and–” Kokichi stopped abruptly, noticing his boyfriend’s red eyes and wettened cheeks. “Oh, shit, Shuichi, what happened?” In a flash, he had paused his video and was by Shuichi’s side. “Just say the word and my entire organization will go and flay alive anyone who you want. Or dismember, that’s always fun too.” Shuichi let out a small, watery laugh, the tears beginning to well in his eyes again.
“Don’t worry, you don’t…” He trailed off as his voice cracked a little, and Shuichi felt his legs deciding to revert back to jelly, so he collapsed to his knees and he began to cry freely again. Kokichi knelt next to him.
“Shu… is touch okay?” It had taken some practice, but Kokichi had finally hammered into his head the concept of asking Shuichi for physical contact when he was upset. Whereas he himself was very touch-starved, Shuichi didn’t always want it. Shuichi managed to nod, and Kokichi automatically wrapped his arms around his shoulders, letting Shuichi tuck his face against his shoulder and cry into it.
The two of them were on Kokichi’s floor for a while, silent except for the occasional hiccup from Shuichi. Finally, Shuichi pulled away from the embrace, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Kokichi pulled the checkered scarf (the one part of his killing game outfit that he still wore) off from around his neck and used it to help dab the tears off of Shuichi’s face.
“Thanks,” Shuichi said with a soft smile, placing one of his hands over Kokichi’s. Kokichi gave him a classic grin in reply.
“You should know I would do anything for you, you are my favorite after all,” he said in a bragging tone. “Plus, you have tons of streaked eyeliner all over your face, so I wanted to smear it around more!” This was probably true, and Shuichi made a mental note to wash his face as soon as he could. But first…
Kokichi’s usually bright purple eyes had gone dull by the time that Shuichi finished explaining to him what had happened. He knew that this only happened when his boyfriend is beyond upset, but Shuichi didn’t mention it.
“It was probably overdramatic of me,” he said regretfully, looking down at his lap. Not that it mattered much, he wouldn’t see his parents for another year anyway, they would have forgotten about it by then.
“No, it wasn’t,” Kokichi replied tersely. “Jeez… and people think I’m bad. That’s just sickening.” Shuichi’s first instinct was to defend his parents, but it was quickly drowned out by reason.
“You’re not bad, Kokichi,” was all that he murmured in response. Quiet enveloped the pair again for a soft moment before Kokichi reached over and took Shuichi’s hands in his own.
“Hey, Shuichi?” Shuichi looked up to meet his gaze, easily locking eyes with his boyfriend.
“Yes, Kokichi?”
“I may not be the most honest or reliable or whatever, but…” Kokichi paused to find the right words before continuing. “I want to make you a promise. And I intend to keep it, and I say that truthfully.” Shuichi blinked, as this wasn’t what he had expected to hear, but he stayed silent to let Kokichi finish speaking. Kokichi let go of one of Shuichi’s hands to dramatically lay his own hand on his chest over his heart. “I, Kokichi Ouma, the ultimate supreme leader, the commander of a secret evil organization of over 10,000 members (Shuichi couldn’t help but smile at this old lie), promise you, Shuichi Saihara, the ultimate detective and ultimate nerd, that I’m never going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” Shuichi’s smile softened, as did his gaze.
“That’s impossible, but thank you, Kokichi,” he replied, holding onto his boyfriend’s free hand with both hands.
“I don’t care, I’m going to make it happen,” Kokichi responded with such determination, that Shuichi was convinced for a brief moment that he really could complete such a momentous task. “And I’m sure as hell going to make sure that you don’t get roped up into any bullshit regarding another killing game. I know the others will agree with me.” Shuichi leaned forward to kiss him, the act gentle. He hoped that it communicated to his boyfriend just how thankful he was, kissing Kokichi for as long as he could before needing to pull away for a breath. Shuichi rested his forehead against Kokichi’s.
“I promise to protect you too,” he whispered, closing his eyes blissfully. The killing game was behind him now. No one, not even his parents, were ever going to drag him away and back into that living hell ever again. And he knew that Kokichi wouldn’t let them, his promise wrapping around his heart and staying there.