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Himiko leapt to her feet, toppling her laptop to the ground. It wrenched itself unplugged from the charger with the force of it, and her blanket ended up tangled all around her feet, leaving her awkwardly bound in front of the couch, but she was too elated to care about any of that. The familiar, high-pitched voice of Monokuma had just told her exactly what she wanted to hear. The newest winner of Danganronpa, graduating after getting away with murder, was Shinguuji Korekiyo.
Her Kiyo-chan was coming home.
Online, everyone was buzzing about the end to the season. It had been five years since the last time a blackened took the win, and those fans who always favored the villains were thrilled, rubbing it in the faces of those who wanted every season to end with a small group of survivors thwarting the mastermind. Personally, she didn’t care about any of the fanwars. Not that year. In the past, she might have chimed in, typing comments on message boards and arguing for her favorites after every episode, but with Korekiyo competing, the show was real in a way it had never been before.
Their anthropological talent suited them well. A vengeful little part of her, the part that still couldn’t help but see Danganronpa at least partially as fiction, thought the rest of the cast deserved their fate after constantly disrespecting and mocking Korekiyo whenever they tried to share stories with the group. None of those idiots appreciated them the way she could, the countless times she’d dozed off with her head in their lap and their dulcet tones filling the room.
She texted them right away, a flurry of congratulations, but wasn’t really surprised when she didn’t get an answer. Obviously they wouldn’t get their phone and other personal belongings back right away, never mind the shock that the debriefing must have been. Previous winners sometimes had a hard time adjusting back to normal life, she’d read. So, with no expectations of receiving anything in return, she kept up the cheery stream of messages, telling Korekiyo all about things they’d missed, her favorite scenes they starred in, and her plans once they came. Maybe their prize money would help them finally move in together, or take a vacation overseas like they’d always wanted.
Driven to distraction, Himiko texted them day and night, relief slowly starting to give way to a familiar anxiety. They were alive, they were a winner. So why didn’t they have their phone back yet? If they had it, surely they’d be texting her back. Letting her know they were okay.
It was Team Danganronpa who contacted her first. She was given a date the following week to pick Korekiyo up from the facility. No other information, regardless of her replies. There was nothing to do but wait.
When they emerged from the hulking fortress of the Team Danganronpa headquarters, they looked more beaten down than Himiko had ever seen them, more than when their family had disowned them and cut them off from the Shinguuji riches. More than when they realized they’d have to make a choice between chasing their passions or putting food on the table, or when they’d resigned themself to gambling it all on live TV. The Korekiyo standing in front of her in a pale green sweatsuit and a medical mask, handles of their duffel bag clenched tightly in their bandaged grip, was like someone she’d never seen before.
“Kiyo-chan,” she said, voice wavering with emotion. “I’m so glad to have you back. I’ve been texting you every day, you know. Haven’t they—” Himiko paused, turning then to the staff member who’d escorted them outside. A nurse, maybe. It was hard to tell. “Haven’t you given them their phone back?”
“Er, yes, Yumeno-san,” the staff member replied, seeming strangely bewildered that she’d been spoken to. “All of Shinguuji-san’s belongings have been returned, electronic devices included. Now, if you’ll sign this release form?”
“Right. Of course.” She signed in a hurry, barely skimming the information on the form saying she was taking responsibility for overseeing the rest of their recovery. Of course she’d do it, she’d do anything. She was all they had, and the same was true in reverse. Himiko passed the clipboard back with a nod, and the nurse gave Korekiyo a little nudge towards her, prompting them to keep walking, or maybe to say something.
Either way, it worked. They shuffled off to the waiting taxi alongside her, and a little reluctantly, muttered out a reluctant, “Hello, Himiko-chan.” They sounded utterly monotone, like they were reading the greeting off a teleprompter. Getting them both bundled into the taxi and telling the driver to take them back to Kiyo’s place was enough to occupy her for a minute or two, but soon enough, she was shifting uncomfortably against the leather seats, glancing at Korekiyo and then away again.
“Are you okay? You’re acting really strange. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it’s... it’s totally normal for it to take a while to feel completely like yourself again, but you’re worrying me.” She tried to sound mature and capable of caring for them, and tried not to whine. She wasn’t sure if any of it made a difference, or if Korekiyo would have heaved that massive, tired sigh regardless.
“Words fail me when trying to describe my condition to someone who has never experienced it,” they said eventually, amber eyes staring out the window rather than at her. She could see them only in profile, or in the reflection on the glass. “Perhaps I’m alright, perhaps not. What I am not, however, is the person you believe returned to you. The Shinguuji Korekiyo you know is one I have no memory of, and if the Team Danganronpa doctors are to be believed, I may never remember. I’ve already forgotten that person. It would be for the best if you did too. Return to your own life. I’m certain I can manage on my own.”
The taxi idled to a stop. The driver cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly having overheard everything and just as clearly expecting his payment. Robotic, Himiko shoved too many bills at him, not bothering to say thank you.
Korekiyo wasted no time unbuckling their seatbelt and emerging onto the sidewalk in front of their apartment building. Himiko followed, a hollow pit in her stomach.