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“I was wrong about you, Ouma.”
Even now, the words are still hard to get out. Be it his wounded pride or the fact that the leader in front of him was, in fact, a great person. Greater than him by a mile, so much better in everything: analyzing, focusing on what truly mattered, acting… in the past, his superiority was a source of real aggravation and anger. Or, if he’s being honest, envy. In front of him is the person who’d excelled at everything he tried. And how much that infuriated him.
But throughout these trials and this daily forced life in front of cameras, things changed. Envy became admiration — the same one held long before, since childhood — and maybe something more.
That’s not what this moment was about, though.
“You’re a good guy. Maybe the best one of us.” Swallowing through fake blood that soaked his goatee, he ignored it and marched on. “I didn’t see you for who you were. And I’m… sorry about that.”
Even now, the words still hurt to say. Maybe because they were the actual truth, and not just another moment of acting between them. He was truly sorry for failing to see who the guy in front of him was. They wasted so much time fighting and being petty and for what reason? It would all be over today, in this claustrophobic moment.
With the press looming behind them.
“I- you-“ He gulps in a breath, glad that he isn’t actually sick and coughing his lungs out.
It’s bizarre. He knows exactly what he needs to say and what the words are, beat by beat. Pause by pause. But he can’t bring himself to say it.
Because it’s all a bit too real.
At least, it is for them. Right now.
“I wish we had more time. I… I hope we do. Someway, somehow…”
The purple eyes in front of him shone with surprise and maybe… fear? Even knowing the other for months now, there would never be a day that would bring him confidence to fully read the smaller one. But he wants to get there one day… wants to be able to tell exactly what’s going on behind those purple eyes and to not be tricked — like everyone else — by unprompted words, pranks, or cruel remarks.
He’d never wanted something more than that. He’d trade everything to be able to spend more time together. To get to know each other better, be it here or anywhere else. Any other world, universe or setting they had to play out. Or, even better, far away from any cameras.
Breathing in, he prepared for his usual megawatt smile for the cameras. Except this time, he knows it’s off. It’s so far off that he can tell he looks like the awkward, bumbling teenager he is instead of the Luminary of the Stars.
Still, he needs to keep going. Those purple eyes in front of him are urging him to go on.
“Let’s meet again in space, okay?” His smile definitely cracked a bit, especially when space would more fittingly be the afterlife.
It is, in many ways, a confession. But not a love one. Even if it sounded like one… they both knew it wasn’t one, not really.
And yet, it felt so real right now.
Nothing else mattered. It was a moment where only the two of them existed. Looking at each other, covered in sweat and (fake) blood, the press hanging behind them ominously.
They even forgot the cameras were on, even if for a second. Until-
“Cut!”
The coldest water from the Arctic would have shocked them less than that one word. Both jumped, out of breath, and remembered where they were.
A world with no killing, no tiny fly cameras or robobears.
Where the cameras were always on.
And there were other people.
“That was incredible, you two! Great work!” An old man came walking and huffing, all smiles. “Let’s take five and go back from the ‘wrong’ line.”
Whatever was hanging between them, like a spell, was completely gone now. Taken off and cut apart. They couldn’t even look each other in the eyes anymore, too awkward and shy from feelings that weren’t even their own.
Or more like they shouldn’t be theirs.
The fictional world was totally different from reality. At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves as the recording went on.
“Momoi,” the director’s voice brought him back to earth, “In the next one, less stuttering, okay? I like how you did it, but let’s try something else. A bit more confidence for the next take, ‘kay?”
He only nodded. Right, Momoi. Not Momota. Curse the fact that his character’s surname was so similar to his own. And how his personality was basically his. Damn, it felt like the writers (and that Shirogane actress) were just playing with them at this point. He knew for a fact that she was the one who pushed for this change in the script. They barely had any lines here, as this would be a flashback once edited.
But now here it was: a goddamn life and death confession. Honestly, it was a pretty obvious love confession, and even he couldn’t deny it. He tried to avoid playing it as one since no way in hell Momota would be all loveydovey and much less Ouma… but his real feelings crept in.
It wasn’t just him, though.
“Shoukichi-chan, wonderful as always! Thank you for your patience dealing with so many beginners!” The director smiled a bit too wildly and was a bit too enthused when talking to Koki- shit, no, Shoukichi. That was his actual name.
Even if Shoukichi was the biggest actor in the cast and famous before he started wobbling and talking, it still rubbed him the wrong way… how close and touchy-feely some directors and producers got with him. It never bothered the actor, though, as if he’d long been used to it. He most likely was.
And it pissed Momoi off every single time. Still, he knew better now than to start a fight. Shoukichi himself stopped him last time, being mindful of his (non-existing) career more than Momoi himself.
Once the director left and before the makeup crew started calling them for reapplication, he had to say something.
Anything to break this awkward silence.
And of course, before he could even start psyching himself up, Ko- Shoukichi, spoke up.
“I agree with the fatso.” Those purple eyes were now looking off into the distance, like that earlier intensity had never been there. Like it never could be there. “You were waaay too awkward. I get that the bumbling fool act isn’t an act, but come on. You can do better.”
A challenge. The best way they know how to cover up all that awkwardness.
It feels like a far cry from the discussion he really wants to have, the feelings he really wants to bring out, but it’s good enough for now. Not like either of them knows how to deal with that stuff unless there’s a camera and fake names in front of them.
He decides to take the bait and act as usual. Ruffling that (adorable) purple hair like always — it’s become part of their routine by now, and he knows they both like it — he smirks.
“You sure? I was just following up on your performance, man. You were all doe-eyed and shit, I had to match your ‘sentimental vibes’.” He adds, smiling, this time 100% real and himself.
He’s so happy to see the blush that can’t be hidden in the not really supreme leader’s face and ears.
“It’s just the poison, dumbass. It’s called acting.” Funny how his acting capacity dipped when he actually got embarrassed, which was so rare.
It’s weird to compare his co-actor’s first day of filming to how they are now. It’s like night and day. Not like Pinocchio — he knows it’s a forbidden nickname, but so what, that’s how he knew him in the first place, way back then, when he first watched the film as a kid and saw this big star in front of him — became nicer or anything. He was still unleashing scathing remarks, calling almost everyone by mean nicknames and pranking a lot. But he seems more honest now. A bit freer. Kind of like Momoi himself.
Being Kaito really brought out the best in him. And he suspects it’s the same for the not really (but in a way absolutely him) Ouma Kokichi in front of him.
Neither is comfortable continuing this topic. He hopes they’ll get past this before their time is up. Before the cameras stop filming, they have to go back to their own lives: him, to his unknown everyday part-time jobs waiting for his break, and Shoukichi, to the stardom where he can pick any role he wants.
At first, he wondered why he’d even picked a small — to his standard — character like Ouma, just a side character, when he was usually the main attraction in all productions he joined. But now, he gets it, even if only a little.
It brought freedom to act in a ‘smaller’ production. And especially in a (fake) reality show, where the characters were based on themselves. A relief for many small-time actors, a challenge for the really bad ones, and surprisingly, a source of joy for the most experienced one of them all.
Which is what made the whole confession scene earlier so… weird.
Every day now that they’ve been recording their final chapter together, it’s been less acting and cold professionalism and more… he doesn’t really know what it is. They’re not friends — not like Momoi is with other actors here — nor are they enemies or just colleagues.
Acting together feels so special. It brings out different sides of him he never knew — and all of them real sides, even the ugly ones he wishes he could hide better (jealousy, anger that is too easy to bubble up, ego, envy, insecurity… all of it).
He really doesn’t want it to end.
The cameras, the show Danganronpa, it all feels not just a job… but the best thing that ever happened to him. He can’t let Shoukichi slip away after this. Like he knows he will.
“More confidence next time, got it.” He looks straight ahead at his co-actor, who’s just lying down in the press, as if it’s the most comfortable place in the world. Always pretending to be zoned out, but Momoi knows he’s more observant than ever at times like these.
They can only communicate as actors now, so why not push it further?
“But I feel like Kaito is the type who fumbles at these types of things, don’tcha think?” He asks in a casually controlled tone — they both know the acting already started, long before the cameras are rolling again.
A purple eye — he’ll miss seeing these contacts for sure, it seems like the actual color of his co-star’s eyes — blinks open, curious and mirthful.
“Hmm, true…” He sighed happily, always content when either Kaito or Momoi was mocked. “But what kind of thing is this, Momot- Momo-chan?”
All too happy about the slip-up in names — so it’s not just him! — but knowing he’ll be punished later via pranking if he brings it up, Momoi continues.
“A confession.”
“What type?”
“You know.”
And he does. Both of them do.
But for which duo? The characters or the actors behind them?
Neither is too brave to bring it up, though — or humble enough.
Shoukichi opens both his eyes and smiles. It’s a bit of a smirk and a bit of a for-the-cameras-and-fans-only smile. Better than all the expressions he’d had when they started filming. But still not completely honest. Still, progress is progress. Not like Momoi is always smiling happily from the heart every time, either.
But between the two of them, it always feels comfortable and honest. Even during their arguments, fights, and moving moments — both scripted and real.
The biggest star in the crew (but physically one of the smallest) gets up from the press with that same smile, now just a bit more real.
“True. Kaito would definitely fumble big time.” He looks down at his nails, a habit he picked up from his own character (or maybe one he always had but hid). “He’d take days until he got it right, let’s be real.”
Both smile with the hidden meaning, “let’s stretch out this recording until the very last second”, or “let’s spend the most time we can together before this is over”.
Momoi will make sure it’s not over even after the cameras turn off and their season is done and live on TV.
He knows — or hopes — for the third hidden meaning behind all that: “let me hear you confess more and more”.
A bit unfair since he also wants to be confessed to. But now, like Ouma — character or actor — would ever be that truthful, even in a life-or-death situation (fictional or not).
They banter a bit on how exactly Kaito will fumble his lines before the crew calls them over for reapplying makeup now that the camera checks are done.
So far, they have settled on six variations: 1. He can’t make himself say the lines and gives up; 2. He rushes through in a jumbled mess of words; 3. He sighs and pretends there’s nothing else to say; 4. He sneezes; 5. He starts hiccuping; 6. He forgets his lines — but just once, he can’t seem too unprofessional or unprepared. And he totally ignores the seventh one that Shoukichi keeps pushing for, 7. He starts crying — which is totally unfair. Kaito won’t. Momoi won’t.
While the crew is coming up to them — his co-star with the big ego never goes to anyone, he makes them come to him — Momoi decides to take inspiration from Kaito and be brave (and maybe a bit stupid) for once.
“I like you, y’know.”
And he’s glad he can still hide behind Kaito, the Luminary of the Stars, to say that — for now.
Just like he knows Shoukichi is glad he can hide behind Ouma, the Supreme Leader and Ultimate Liar, who pretends his blush was all part of method acting.
Even though he doesn’t get a verbal answer for a long time — a really long time, as in years from now — he gets enough of a reply from how his co-star acts. It becomes a game between them about who can screw up the most and make the recording last longer, much longer than planned. To the point that the crew and agents get actually pissed off at them.
But he doesn’t mind. It’s the answer that matters, “I want to spend more time with you, too. Even if it means being unprofessional and a really bad actor, for once.”
They stretch the confession scene out for almost two days before the writers decide to cut it off, choosing to use an already recorded scene for their flashback.
Not that either cares, really. They still have some more scenes to act out. And Momoi hopes he can convince Shoukichi to come act in the trial too. He knows he’ll miss everyone but is too proud to admit it.
On their final take, he makes sure to add his own ad-lib (that he knows will never be used, even as bonus content for the DVD):
“You piss me off like no one else. And you know it, and you make sure to be even worse. I wanted to punch you (for real) so many times. But I also couldn’t get you out of my mind. Like some annoying small virus… what I’m trying to say is… you’re the worst, but you’re still the best, kinda… in a way. I don’t want it to end like this.”
Half the staff understood what the lines stood for, while the other thought he’d had an aneurysm and blacked out on the actual script. Neither side mattered.
What did matter was his co-star’s shining eyes and, for once, completely baffled expression. It took him much longer than usual to adjust and go back to his usual mask. But that was successful enough for Momoi.
Next time, he’d make sure to do it while the cameras were off.