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Kaito has a secret. Something only he knows that happened in the hangar. Even Ouma doesn’t (couldn’t) know.
And Shuichi will never be able to figure it out. No matter how smart he is.
Shuichi’s argument review is so thorough that Kaito is impressed even after seeing it so many times. It’s incredible how much the detective transforms when he’s in a trial. As if this is his true self, unchained from fear, judgment and self-hatred.
It’s a shame this is the last time Kaito will see this. Especially as they wasted so much time bickering after Gonta’s execution. No, not them. Him. He was angry and just wanted to avoid Shuichi.
If Kaito could redo one thing… no, it wouldn’t even be that. He’d have to start at the very beginning. With Akamatsu. Maybe he could’ve done something there. But it was now too late.
Ouma entrusted him with this and he’d be damned if he died before he did something worthwhile to end this joke of a game.
He’s so proud of his assistant. Now, as he feels his final energy draining, he can admit he had nothing to be proud of himself. He was a disappointment from beginning to end. But he was glad he managed to have some sort of positive effect on his assistants.
Particularly Shuichi. Maki… was someone he didn’t know how to look in the eye. If they had more time, they could’ve sat down and really talked. Because Ouma was right. He didn’t really understand Maki. He saw what he wanted to see. He hoped that what he pictured was the reality and that was it. He couldn’t forgive her for restarting the killing game. Using such a brutal poison… did she even know the effects? Really know them? Because how could you pick that substance knowing exactly how long and how much the target suffered… It was inhumane.
But he didn’t want to think that. He didn’t want to have their last conversation be of guilt. He felt Maki wouldn’t be able to handle it. He could only reject her as lightly as possible and leave it at that.
Shuichi’s argument was great. He basically recreated what happened during the hangar. Scene by scene. But it wasn’t flawless.
He didn’t quite get everything.
Even if his and Ouma’s final effort failed and their switch was revealed, he was glad for that one little miracle.
That’s the one secret he’ll never expose. Even Shuichi, in all his brilliance, couldn’t figure it out.
It doesn’t mean their plan didn’t fail. Monokuma caught on and there’s nothing else he can do by now. He’ll reveal himself and their trick is over. Maybe if it had been the other way around… no, he knows if Ouma were here, he could’ve acted perfectly. But life was never fair, as Kaito himself knew well.
Their attempt to end the killing game ended in failure. But he can protect their last conversation from the rest of them — and the cameras.
It’s a relief to show himself and know that, at least, all of them would remain alive and safe. Even if the mastermind is among them, he’s sure (no, he just wants to believe. He was never really sure about anything, from the very beginning) that his assistants will solve this. The only thing he has left is hope and he’ll die holding on to it.
In part he’s glad: Shuichi is capable of getting through even this (and he was so worried the boy would never want to get out of bed after Akamatsu’s horrible death) and Maki is safe and won’t be executed (and he hopes against hope one day she will understand what a grave mistake it was. How awful it is to be poisoned in such a way).
But mostly, he’s glad for Ouma. Ever the actor, he pretended he was fine in the beginning. Though not even his lying could hide all the signs: the pale skin, shaky breath, sunken eyes, the sweat, and a body that was burning up but shivering nonstop. He was suffering so much, it was painful to watch. Every motion hurt Ouma and it was obvious. Kaito never felt so clumsy or so guilty.
He could’ve prevented this… if only he’d been better, actually noticed and understood the people around him, communicated in the right way, thought rationally and not emotionally… but it was too late. Even if Kaito couldn’t stand Ouma for the entirety of their time together — save the very end — he wouldn’t wish that pain on his worst enemy. No, maybe the mastermind. And Ouma wasn't like that. He had never been that. But damn if he didn’t fool them all into thinking it. Playing them all into his hand… until the mastermind turned the tables against them.
The mastermind would never know about their secret, though.
Kaito would make sure of that.
They can’t stop asking: why, why would you have helped a monster like him? A horrible guy who enjoyed the suffering of others.
He was never a monster but it took his death for them — for him — to understand. And Kaito can’t really forgive himself for that. He can’t forgive himself for so many things.
Recalling Ouma’s words about the game, he tells what he remembers. What he can, toeing the line between truth and lies. For Ouma’s sake.
“Who knows if those words were lies?” It’s not difficult to force a casual tone, not to an experienced liar like him.
Make them understand Ouma wasn’t a villain. But not too much compassion, that would piss him off. Don’t give them enough to make them curious. Don’t let them ask for more.
Kaito needs to change the subject. He can’t pretend he knew everything Ouma was going to say. Or anything at all.
Ouma Kokichi died as he lived: an enigma, impossible (unwilling) to be solved.
K1-B0, out of all of them, is the one who believes in Ouma’s last words. Or wants to believe at least. How ironic that it’s the robot. The ultimate supreme leader (another lie) would’ve gotten a kick out of it.
“It has to be the truth”, the robot insists.
No one agrees. Most of them still see Ouma as a villain. Maybe that’s what he’d have wanted.
Deep down, Kaito agrees with K1-B0. Ouma was being honest when he explained the game, cameras, and everything after he used the bomb was the raw, blatant truth. He felt it deep under his skin, in his soul. That was the only time Ouma opened up and was vulnerable.
“At least I wasn’t boring, right?”
No, he’d never been boring. Annoying, unstoppable, kind of adorable, horrific, a monster, the mastermind… he’d been everything. But never boring. Kaito made sure he knew.
And even now, at the very end, Kaito was still lying to them.
Pretending that he was okay with dying, that he’d resolved everything and he was going into death fearlessly, fitting for the luminary of the stars. Though that title is also a lie, he feels it in his bones. Every single title here is a lie.
And lying about one thing more.
Facing Monokuma, it’s time for his death now.
Kaito truly cares less about his execution than he did before. He’d been terrified of dying, hoping against hope they’d escape in time and get to someone and find out what was wrong with him. He couldn’t die without going to space! At the darkest times, he’d thought his execution would just be him limping over and coughing until he died. Which was worse: dying alone in his room, his body left to rot for hours until someone found him, or collapsing in front of everyone and showing his weakness to all of them? It sounded awful but he knew himself: the latter was impossible. Even now, he wanted to die with dignity.
Ouma at least came up with a plan to save everyone. Kaito was just trying to save himself first and foremost. The others came after. At his darkest hours, he’d prayed he could escape this disease, this place. Even if it's just him. And he couldn’t forgive himself for that. He knew Ouma had seen it in him.
“You were never my first choice,” he said scathingly after forcing him — no, just offering the antidote; Kaito was the one who chose to drink it all, they knew it — to escape death from poison.
He knew it very well. It’d never have been him. And yet, some sick side of him felt honored he’d been chosen by Ouma. Which was still pretty insane, considering he almost considered killing the smaller boy. How he wished they’d had more time. They had so much to talk about, to learn about each other. At the very end, Kaito knew: Ouma was the only one who saw him for what he was. Who got him all pegged down: the good, the bad, and the lies.
How he wished he could’ve heard Ouma’s true last words.
Maybe then he could’ve convinced everyone Ouma was decent. No saint, but no monster either.
A rocket, how fitting.
He deserves this end.
For everything he failed. For everyone he failed. And for noticing too late how Ouma was right. If only they’d worked together sooner…
His mind is only filled with ‘if only’s now.
Kaito knows even this execution won’t be as painful as everything Ouma went through. The awful pain of the poison, having to grit his teeth and explain the plan, and then get under the press. And even then, he still managed to be levelheaded and teach him the plan. What a guy.
This would die with him, but Kaito thought for a second (a good long second) that it had all been a trick. That Ouma was actually going to crush him in the press and laugh at the silly astronaut who believed his lies. Of course, he didn’t. And Kaito honestly hated himself for even thinking that.
Just imagining being crushed by that awful press… Ouma was a stronger man than he’d ever be. To just pick that as a dying method was insane.
He wondered if the press would’ve been more merciful than the poison. Ouma seemed to think so or at least sell that idea. At the end, he’d been so delirious… he couldn’t even say coherent sentences.
“Boring” was the last word Ouma said, really. How fitting. Everything else had been babbling, wide eyes and such a cold, sweaty hand clamping down on him. Ouma cried, calling out for names Kaito never heard of. He wondered if they were his family or friends. He’d never get to know.
“Ouma, Ouma, goddamn it, stay with me! I’m here! It’s stupid Momota! Come on, man! You can do it!” he was almost screaming, desperately as Ouma struggled against his hold, trying to get down or then to climb over him, incoherently mumbling.
“I’m right here. I’m here, Ouma.” He was holding him in such an awkward way that it had to be painful. But then again, the supreme leader had been in pain for so long. Nothing he was saying was reaching him.
“Talk to me, please! Come on! Ouma!” Only Kaito could know how much he was crying and panicking them. “Kokichi, please!”
That got a reaction. Purple glazed eyes looked at him. For a second, he knew Kokichi was there again: knowing exactly where he was and what their plan was.
It was like the world was right again. He could breathe. He wasn’t alone in that torture chamber anymore.
Ouma smiled as he kept gasping for breath. His eyes were slowly losing focus, becoming frantic again. But he understood the message: ‘get me on to the press already’.
Kaito handled him in the most careful way he could — still too painful, he berated himself as he saw Ouma wincing, tears slipping out — and made sure Ouma was lying on top of his coat. In the center of that cold, death trap.
Ready to die.
Ouma looked at him once more. He could feel it.
These would be his last words. Kaito would make absolutely sure to remember it. He stopped breathing, to make sure he wouldn’t miss anything, be it mumbling or whispering. Ouma looked focused (but so so pale, his breath almost not leaving his body anymore, his eyes getting farther and farther away) and-
No words came.
Soft gasps led the way into silence.
Those irritating — captivating — unforgettable purple eyes lost focus. They stared at nothing now. Ouma didn’t move anymore.
The son of a bitch died before he could’ve told him his last words.
He wasted his goddamn last breath explaining to Kaito the plan, making sure “an idiot like you won’t mess up, make sure to use your brain, Momota-chan”, mocking him, berating him… and then he died before saying what he needed to say.
Was there someone he wanted to remember him by? Things he regretted (of course there were, they both knew it), things he wanted to pass on to Kaito?
It was impossible to know.
And what was the point of relaying last words to a fellow soon to be cadaver.
As cold as Kaito had been — and K1-B0 certainly thought that of him — what else could he say about Ouma’s so called last words. When they hadn’t been his true last words at all.
The world would never know Ouma Kokichi’s last words. Just like it never knew Ouma Kokichi himself.
It was a small mercy but Ouma deserved it. He still got to go out and still trick the mastermind. He didn’t suffer as much though it was still awful. And that’s what matters to Kaito. At this stage, he couldn’t let himself wonder: which was worse? The poison or the press? He only hoped Ouma got the least awful end.
The press would hide the truth of Ouma’s death. Just like Kaito would make sure to hide it as well. There are no more words necessary. Ouma was no mastermind. He was just a kid, like all of them.
If Kaito has one regret, it’s this: not being able to finish this game as they wanted. He couldn’t honor his promise to Ouma.
Not his first choice at all, indeed. Maybe Shuichi could’ve honored Ouma’s wish. Maybe he could’ve heard his actual last words.
Kaito would never know.
But he could at least honor Ouma’s will by saving Maki, like they both wanted. And maybe that counts for something.
He smiles wildly, confidently (so fake, so very fake, what a liar he was) to everyone. Not scared even of death. That’s the luminary of the stars. That is the Kaito Momota the world would remember.
Even in failure, he dies satisfied: he won’t let Monokuma kill him. Just like Ouma didn’t let Monokuma either.
And he died protecting Ouma and Maki’s wishes.
Kokichi Ouma died before the press came down.
That’s Kaito’s secret. And the one thing this world, this killing game with its cameras and executions, could never take away from him (and Ouma).
This secret dies with him.