Chapter Text
Well… this was it, huh?
The press loomed above him, coming down at a steady pace. Kokichi could feel every muscle in his body tense as the harbinger of his death approached.
It was terrifying to know that his death was seconds away. He had been planning to do something like this since the third murders: something to catch monokuma, the mastermind, or whoever by tricking them. When he got the “truth of the outside world” motive, it felt like an opportunity just fell right into his hands.
He had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes until his plan: willing to do anything to win, including dying himself… and he was even willing to kill if it was called for.
He didn’t really kill anyone directly, he just got rid of people standing in the way of him winning the killing game! Everything he did was strictly because it was nessecary.
He wasn’t even fooling himself now. He sighed as he chanced a look back up towards his approaching death. How could he ever be forgiven for what he made Gonta do? For the fate he assigned to such a sweet gentleman? For— in his own right— executing Miu: sentencing her to death because she of her murder plan? Sure, there was really no other way, but he could never wash the blood off of his hands. And now Kaito. Putting him in this situation where he just might be executed if he slips up.
Dying was just as scary to him then when he worked through the possibilities for his plan, but you wouldn’t know it from how he acted. But now his fear was on display, though no one was watching.
As much as it hurt his pride to show this weakness, his real concern was the emotional battle happening internally. I can’t die fearful or upset. He thought that he would be able to accept reality by now.
He had to make peace with this. It was gruesome, but at least the pain wouldn’t last long. Once the press came down he would be dead in a matter of seconds.
Kokichi tried to steady his breathing, relax his muscles, forget the regrets and pain, and to come to terms with what was happening, but he couldn’t keep down the turmoil.
Where would he go once he was gone? He sometimes would think about an afterlife during late nights when he couldn’t sleep; overwhelmed with guilt or sorrow. He selfishly hoped that there was one, and that it was good… peaceful. Kokichi never believed in the supernatural: a god, magic, or whatnot, but as he stared up at death, he found himself praying— not knowing what he was even praying for.
And so unable to close his eyes or otherwise look away from his approaching fate, Kokichi braced for impact as the color drained from his pained face. I can’t make peace with this! He would never see anyone he cared about again: DICE (if they were even alive), Shuichi,— hell even Kaito or Kiibo or Himiko! He would never get confirmation on his theories of who the mastermind was or what was the purpose of the game. He would have to die with his suspicions and regrets!
But at least I can save the remaining innocents (and Maki). At least mydeath will help end the game.
God, like that made him feel any better. There were so many feelings he had that would never be known by the world. His real self would die with him: never to be discovered, let alone understood. A selfish part of him hoped that his classmates would figure out his intentions after the fact, and by them he meant most likely Shuichi.
…But it isn’t likely, is it? At least he would be the nessecary evil… he had to play the villain, and he had to die to make any of his cruel actions count. He had to die to make any of the terrible things he did mean anything! He had to die.
Damn. That sounded pathetic, but what else could he possibly do to justify this?
The press inched closer. He stopped silently, desperately trying to accept his fate. He was too exhausted. Too tired to move or to sob or to care.
…
His whole body hurt like hell.
*CRUNCH*
~~~~~
The viceral sound of the crunching of bones and the squishing of flesh rang throughout the hangar. Kaito winced at the sound, staring at the pooling blood that was once Kokichi with a mix of emotions that was foreign to him.
He couldn’t stand the guy, he could barely understand him, but he almost felt… sad. Kokichi did some messed up stuff, but he couldn’t help but pity him. It must’ve been exhausting. Despite all the messy feelings, more than anything he felt tired. His lungs still ached and his arm hurt like a motherfucker. He just had to hold out on his end if the deal to the little guy, even if he wasn’t sure what the bastard was trying to do.
~~~~~
And that’s when Kokichi woke up.
He still had his eyes squeezed shut, a ringing in his ears and the reverberated sound of wet crunching played on a loop in his head.
His eyes blinked open, only to find himself staring at the now closed hydraulic press. It felt surreal. The press was oozing blood… probably more blood than he had seen in all of the past deaths combined, and out of the presses’s jaws hung a singular sleeve from Kaito’s coat.
It… It’s me, isn’t it?
He felt numb and hollow, like he wasn’t really attached to the floor.
It’s… my blood.
He remembered the dull feeling of pain— intense pain for a moment before pure nothingness, but it wasn’t something his body remembered.
IT’S MY BLOOD.
Speaking of which, he couldn’t really feel his body.
IT’S MY DEAD BODY.
The disconnect in his head disappeared and Kokichi’s thoughts and feeling snapped into sync like a lego brick.
It.. it doesn’t make sense.. how could… how could… if I just died, how am I still here? And if I’m here, HOW AM I STARING AT MY CORPSE?! (Or, his remains rather, but that didn’t matter to him right now.)
Kokichi kept a straight face apart from his wildly roaming eyes and trembling form. He let a singular shaking hand reach up to feel his face. He touched his cheek, but he couldn’t feel it. His entire “body” felt like it fell asleep: numb. There was only a slight tingling sensation when he touched… anthing.
Then with his entire form trembling in anticipation and fear, the felt for a pulse.
There was none.
Am I…….? No. Nononono. The idea was so stupid that he shook his head to dispel it. He couldn’t be… a ghost? It wasn’t possible… but what other explanation was there?
So… a ghost? Phantom? Spirit? Poltergeist??? (He reeeaaally wanted to be a poltergeist. How useful would that be?)
His train of thought was interrupted by coughing. A heaving, wet cough that even sounded painful. Looking over, he saw Kaito leaning against a wall, keeling over as he violently coughed into his fist.
The ammount of blood that came out was… concerning to say the least. Kaito was really sick, huh? He morbidly wondered if Kaito would even survive to the end of his plan.
Questions raced through Kokichi’s head once he saw the other boy. Can he see me? Can I touch him? Can he hear me? Would I be able to scare him reeeaaallllyy good? Can I help guide him with the plan? Kaito was the perfect person to test out his questions about his abilities on.
…
After some experimenting and attempts at terrorizing Kaito, Kokichi got answers. Kaito couldn’t see him, touch him, or hear him. However, Kokichi could definitely touch Kaito, but walking or phasing through him just gave him a chill from what he could observe. Apparently he could interact with objects, but he reasoned that scaring people would get in the way of a few things and just derail his plan. And as for helping out Kaito, he was still on the fence about it. On one hand, he could help things go smoothly and stop Kaito from fucking up his plan, but on another hand, doing ghosty things might just scare Kaito to death (since he was already halfway there) and the learning curve for them communicating would only make everything harder.
On another note, he found a bonus: he could walk through walls, floors, and float! He also deduced that there weren’t any other ghosts. He assumed that if there were any others than he would be able to see them, and that they would care enough to go to the hangar to see what happened (or at least he hoped so).
But there wasn’t time to ruminate on that, because it was time for the second act. The ghost watched from above as the dying pawn collected the camera, tore the power cord to the press, and flushed his clothes. Kokichi watched as he left in the exisal. There was a sense of detachment— well, for obvious reasons— but he was watching the clean up to his murder, or suicide, rather? It didn’t really matter what he called it because it didn’t change that he felt… shaken, but… dull.
Kokichi stayed in the hangar, staring at his own remains, and for the first time since Gonta’s execution, he felt tears, real tears, slip out of his eyes. Aside from being literally weightless, he felt like a constant pressure had been lifted from his shoulders. There was no act to put on anymore. No one around to see him and no way for the cameras to watch him. There was no need to wipe it off and act composed or bored or manic after. So he sobbed, genuinely sobbed, taking deep rattled breaths in between heartwrenching wails that hurt his nonexistent throat and made his ghost lungs ache.
“Ghh… FUCK!” His shoulders heaved and shook.
“Hahahaha……neeheehee…HAHAHA… hah…” It was all too much.“shit…GOD.”
It went on like that for god knows how long: with Kokichi letting out all of his bottled-up emotions. He shook and cried, he laughed manically, he screamed with anger and frustration all sporadically. His face grew red and puffy, and as his episode steadily came to a stop, he noticed that his tears disappeared as soon as they hit the floor.
When he fully snapped out of it he was on his knees, head in his hands, gripping his hair like a vice. He took deep breaths, and let the catharsis wash over him. It felt good: to feel real emotions without worrying, but something deep in his heart whispered to him the new fact that this was the most alone he would ever- could ever be.