Archive of Our Own

Rainwater dripped from the edge of Kokichi’s hood and onto the convenience store floor.

The cashier noticed on the third drip.

“Hey.”

Kokichi looked up immediately, widening his eyes to appear startled, like a kitten caught in a tree.

The cashier - a tired-looking man in his forties – pointed at him.

“You gonna pay for that?”

Ah.

Kokichi’s fingers tightened around the plastic wrapper hidden in his sleeve.

Right. He’d been caught.

For a second, nobody moved. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere near the back of the store, a refrigerator hummed loudly like a mosquito.

Kokichi smiled.

“Oh,” he said softly, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry…”

The cashier didn’t smile back. “Empty your pockets.”

Kokichi’s stomach twisted painfully. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and was starting to feel it. Usually, adults barely looked at him. Looking pathetic worked better than people thought it would.

He glanced toward the door automatically.

Too far.

And running made people angry.

The cashier came around the counter with an irritated sigh. “Kid, don’t make this difficult.”

“I wasn’t stealing,” Kokichi lied instantly.

“You hid it in your sleeve.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You literally did.”

Kokichi lowered his gaze.

Then he made his voice shake.

“I-I forgot to pay…”

That usually worked.

Not perfectly. But enough times that it was worth a shot.

Adults liked feeling merciful.

The cashier rubbed his face. “Where are your parents?”

Kokichi said nothing.

“Your school uniforms soaked. And when was the last time you slept?”

Still nothing.

The man stared at him for a long moment before exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Do you have money or not?”

Kokichi was already preparing his next lie when the automatic doors slid open behind him.

Cold air rushed into the store.

“Oi, move.”

A tall boy brushed past him carrying rain and cigarette smoke with him. Broad shoulders. Sharp eyes. Dark circles under them. Older. But judging by the school jersey he was wearing, he couldn’t be older than 18.

He dumped a sports drink onto the counter and only looked up halfway through pulling coins from his pocket.

“…What’s going on?”

The cashier pointed at Kokichi immediately. “This brat tried to shoplift.”

Kokichi replied before thinking.

“He’s my brother.”

Silence.

The older boy blinked at him.

Kokichi blinked back with practiced innocence.

Please go along with it. Please please please.

The cashier frowned. “Your brother?”

“Mhm.” Kokichi nodded quickly. “He forgot his wallet at home, so he told me to wait here for him.”

The boy stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

Kokichi smiled weakly.

Please.

Something shifted in the boy’s expression then.

Recognition, maybe.

Of wet clothes. Hollow eyes. Too-fast lies.

The boy looked back at the cashier. “Yeah,” he said after a second. “He’s with me.”

Kokichi nearly sagged with relief.

The cashier looked unconvinced. “Then pay for it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The boy pulled crumpled 200¥ note from his pocket with obvious irritation and motioned for Kokichi to pass him the bun, which was still stuck up his sleeve, Kokichi obliged. As their hands touched – Kokichi noticed that his hero’s fingers were scraped raw across the knuckles.

The cashier bagged their items in silence and the second they stepped outside, the older boy grabbed Kokichi by the hood and dragged him into an alleyway next to the convenience store’s awning.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped.

Kokichi flinched automatically.

The boy’s expression changed and his hands fell away.

“…I wasn’t gonna hit you,” he muttered.

Kokichi stared at the wet pavement.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Why’re you apologizing?”

Because-

Kokichi swallowed.

The older boy sighed heavily and shoved the chocolate bun into his hands.

“Eat.”

“…Huh?”

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Kokichi hesitated before carefully taking it.

“You didn’t have to buy this for me.”

“Yeah, well, I already did.”

The rain poured steadily beyond their vantage point. Cars hissed through puddles on the road.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Then the boy glanced sideways at him.

“You should be at home or at school, kid.”

Kokichi stiffened slightly, before forcing a laugh. “I’m taking a break from school right now.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Sure, it is.”

The boy practically glared at him, and Kokichi resisted the urge to step backward.

“You ran away?” the boy asked.

Direct hit.

Kokichi smiled automatically. “Nope.”

“…You’re a terrible liar.”

The boy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and looked out at the rain.

“…I’m Momota Kaito,” he said finally.

Kokichi blinked.

People usually didn’t offer their names to him.

“Ouma Kokichi,” he replied carefully.

Momota nodded once.

Then, after a long silence:

“You got somewhere to sleep tonight?”

Kokichi looked down at the warm bun in his hands.

He could lie again.

He probably should.

Instead, he said quietly:

“No.”

--

The internet café was on the fourth floor of a narrow building squeezed between a karaoke bar and a massage place with flickering neon lights.

Kokichi followed Momota up the stairs quietly, trying not to think about how strange this entire night was.

What does he want from me?

People always wanted something.

The woman at the front desk barely glanced up at them as Momota paid for two overnight booths. He looked weirdly familiar with the process.

That thought sat unpleasantly in Kokichi’s stomach.

“You come here a lot?” he asked lightly.

Momota shrugged. “Sometimes.”

Not an answer.

Kokichi noticed that too.

The café smelled faintly like dust, instant noodles, and old fabric. Dim lighting cast everything in orange shadows, rows of computers glowing softly in the dark.

It was warm.

Warm enough that Kokichi suddenly became painfully aware of how cold he’d been all day.

Momota tossed him a folded blanket from a storage shelf. “Take it before you start shivering to death or something.”

“I’m not shivering.”

“You literally are.”

Kokichi took the blanket anyway.

Their booth was cramped - just enough space for the floor mats, a tiny table, and two computers neither of them planned on using. Rain tapped softly against the windows somewhere deeper in the building.

Momota disappeared for a few minutes, muttering something about food.

The second he was gone, Kokichi exhaled.

His body hurt.

Not dramatically like it had in the past, when his body has been marked by the hands of others. Just the dull ache of exhaustion buried deep into his bones.

He wrapped the blanket around himself and wandered toward the manga shelves lining the hallway. Thousands of brightly coloured spines blurred together under fluorescent light.

Romance. Sports. Horror.

His fingers drifted absently across titles until one caught his eye.

Sasaki and Miyano.

Kokichi paused.

The cover showed two boys sitting close together, smiling shyly at each other.

“…Huh.”

“You seriously reading romance manga right now?”

Kokichi nearly jumped.

Momota stood behind him balancing a tray of assorted food items and canned drinks in his arms.

Kokichi straightened immediately. “I was just looking.”

He leaned sideways to read the title.

Then he snorted.

“That’s kinda gay.”

Heat rushed violently into Kokichi’s face.

“I-it’s just manga-”

“I didn’t say it was bad.”

Kokichi looked up at him, tilting his head.

“Who cares if it’s gay?”

“Oh.”

Momota raised an eyebrow. “You looked like you were about to pass out.”

“I did not.”

“You totally did.”

Kokichi stared at the manga cover for another second before quietly pulling the volume off the shelf.

His new friend grinned a little at that but didn’t comment.

Which somehow embarrassed Kokichi even more.

Back in the booth, Momota dumped everything onto the table with a tired sigh. Instant ramen cups. Rice balls. Two canned coffees. Some fried chicken in a paper bag.

Kokichi blinked.

“That’s too much.”

“Nah.”

“You’re gonna go broke.”

“I’m already broke.”

Fair point.

Momota handed him chopsticks. Kokichi hesitated before taking them carefully.

The ramen smelled incredible.

His stomach twisted so hard, his fingers clenched.

“…Thanks,” he mumbled.

Momota flopped against the wall beside him. “Mm.”

For a while, the only sound was quiet slurping and the muffled hum of computers outside the booth.

Kokichi ate slower than he wanted to, but he had to in case this was the last time he would have a hot meal in a long time.

Momota noticed.

“You can eat normally,” he said suddenly.

Kokichi froze.

“Huh?”

“You keep acting like I’m gonna take the food away.”

“…I’m not.”

Momota gave him a look but didn’t push further.

That almost made it worse.

Kokichi stared down into his noodles for a long moment before speaking quietly.

“Why are you helping me?”

Momota shrugged immediately. “Got nothing better to do.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Kokichi looked at him carefully.

Momota was sat sprawled against the wall, absently tapping his fingers against the can of diet coke balanced on his knee. Up close, the bruises on his knuckles looked older than Kokichi first thought.

Not one fight.

Lots of fights.

“My parents are dicks too,” Momota said casually.

Kokichi’s expression immediately smoothed into confusion.

“What?”

Momota snorted softly.

“C’mon. You think I’m stupid?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“If you were happy at home,” Momota said, “you wouldn’t be hiding in an internet café at two in the morning with some guy you met outside a convenience store.”

Direct hit again.

Kokichi hated how easily he could read him.

He stared at the steam curling from his ramen cup.

Part of him wanted to deny it again.

But he was too tired to keep up this game of cat and mouse.

So instead, he sighed quietly and pulled his knees closer to his chest beneath the blanket.

“…Thanks,” he said again, softer this time.

Momota looked over at him.

His expression did something strange then.

It softened for the first time in the short period that Kokichi had known him – it made him look younger, less jaded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s alright.”

--

Kokichi woke up slowly to warmth against his side.

For one disoriented second, panic shot through him.

Then he blinked blearily at the dim internet café booth and remembered where he was.

Right.

Rain still tapped softly against the windows outside, though weaker than last night. The lights in the booth had been turned off at some point, leaving only the glow from the hallway slipping through the curtain.

Momota was still asleep beside him.

And apparently sometime during the night, he’d half rolled over and thrown an arm across Kokichi’s waist.

Kokichi stared.

His brain felt weirdly blank.

Momota’s face looked softer asleep. Less tense. His eyebrows weren’t pulled together like usual, and his mouth hung slightly open against the pillow.

Kokichi became abruptly aware that he could feel Momota’s body heat through the thin fabric of his jersey.

Heat rushed into his face instantly.

Oh my god.

Very carefully, Kokichi tried to move.

Momota made a low annoyed sound in his sleep and tightened his arm reflexively.

Kokichi froze completely.

“…Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

Kokichi stared at him in horror.

Thankfully, after another second, Momota’s breathing evened back out again.

Still asleep.

Okay. Okay.

Good.

Kokichi looked away quickly, pressing the sleeve of his thermal against his burning face.

This was stupid.

It was just body heat.

People touch each other accidentally all the time.

So why did his chest feel all tight?

A phone alarm suddenly blared from somewhere beneath Momota’s pillow.

The taller boy jerked awake violently.

“Huh- shit-”

His arm slipped away from Kokichi immediately as he scrambled for the phone.

Kokichi sat perfectly still.

Momota silenced the alarm with a groan and rubbed at his eyes. “What time is it…”

“Morning,” Kokichi squeaked.

Momota blinked at him.

“…Why do you sound weird?”

“I don’t sound weird.”

“You do.”

“I just woke up!”

“Okay, okay…”

Momota yawned hard enough his whole body curled forward. Then he stood, stretched, and disappeared out of the booth for a few minutes.

Kokichi exhaled slowly into his blanket.

And by the time Momota returned, he had successfully convinced himself to act normal again.

Mostly.

Momota tossed a bundle of clothes directly into his lap.

“Here.”

Kokichi blinked down at them. A hoodie. Sweatpants. Clean socks. Boxers.

“…What’s this?”

“Clothes.”

“I can see that.”

“They should fit you.”

Kokichi looked up suspiciously. “Where did you get them?”

Momota avoided his eye as he answered.

“…Found them.”

“You stole them?!”

“They were sitting unattended!”

“That’s still stealing!”

Momota pointed accusingly at his chest. “You literally shoplifted yesterday.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Kokichi opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

“…Shut up.”

Momota grinned smugly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Anyway,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “we should leave before the guy notices his clothes are gone.”

“Definitely.”

The shower rooms were tiny and smelled aggressively like cheap soap, but the hot water almost made Kokichi fall to his knees in gratitude.

He stood beneath it longer than he should have, scalding his pale skin slightly, but he figured it would be better to be too hot than too cold.

His mood dipped however when he finally changed into the stolen clothes, which fit surprisingly well, because when he stared at himself in the mirror, he barely recognized the person looking back.

He shook his head, snapping out of his daze as he exited the cubicle and bumped into Momota, who looked up from where he was slouched against a radiator in the hallway checking his camera.

Then he blinked.

“…Whoa.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You totally meant something by that.”

Momota shrugged casually. “You look less like a drowned cat now.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

Still, his ears had gone slightly pink.

Kokichi noticed.

They left the internet café with all their possessions fitting into two bags between them.

Outside, the city was grey and damp from the night’s rain. Morning commuters flooded the sidewalks around them, completely ignoring the kids who definitely should have been in school.

Kokichi walked beside Momota quietly for a while before asking:

“So, what are we gonna do now?”

Momota shoved his hands into his jersey’s pockets.

“Dunno.”

“That’s not a plan.”

“We don’t need one yet.”

Kokichi frowned slightly. “Then what do we do?”

Momota glanced sideways at him, before grinning.

“Anything we want.”

The answer hit Kokichi surprisingly hard, like a firm pillow which looks soft on the outside.

Anything we want.

Like the world had suddenly cracked open a little wider.

He looked away quickly before Momota could notice.

“…Can we get bubble tea?”

Momota barked out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“That’s your first priority?”

“You did say we could do anything.”

“Fine, fine.”

--

The café they found was small and crowded with students skipping morning classes.

Kokichi kept expecting someone to stop them.

To recognize him.

To drag him home.

Nobody did.

He sat across from Momota in a window seat clutching a taro milk tea while Momota messed with an old digital camera covered in scratches and stickers.

“What’s that?”

“My camera.”

“I can see that.”

Momota pointed it at him suddenly.

Click.

Kokichi flinched. “Hey!”

Momota looked down at the tiny screen with a grin.

“You looked cute.”

Kokichi nearly inhaled his straw.

“I did not.”

“You were holding the drink with both hands.”

“That means nothing.”

“Sure.”

Momota kept grinning while Kokichi aggressively looked out the window to hide his face.

After another second, Momota turned the camera over in his hands more thoughtfully.

“I take pictures of stuff,” he said. “Videos too.”

“Why?”

Momota shrugged. “Dunno. I like documenting things.”

“What things?”

“Our journey, I guess.”

Our.

That word lodged itself awkwardly in Kokichi’s chest.

“How long have you been…” Kokichi hesitated. “Like this?”

“Homeless?”

Kokichi nodded.

Momota leaned back in his chair.

“…About six months.”

Six months.

Kokichi tried not to visibly react to that.

“I work sometimes,” he added. “Convenience stores mostly. Random stuff.”

“That’s how you pay for food?”

“And internet cafés.”

Kokichi stared down at his drink quietly.

Then:

“I’ll get a job too.”

Momota nearly choked on his tea.

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?!”

Momota pointed at him like this should be obvious. “Because you’re gonna attract old perverts.”

Kokichi blinked.

“…What?”

“You look like the kind of kid creepy guys try to hit on.”

Kokichi stared at him for a long second before bursting into startled laughter.

Momota frowned, slamming both fists down onto the table hard enough to rattle their drinks.

“I’m serious.”

Several people in the café glanced over.

Kokichi flinched before he could stop himself.

The sound had been too sudden.

Too loud.

He hated that he’d reacted like that.

“I can take care of myself,” he muttered, staring stubbornly at his half-drunken bubble tea.

“Kokichi-”

Momota stopped abruptly.

Then corrected himself awkwardly.

“…Ouma.”

Kokichi blinked.

Momota rubbed the back of his neck with obvious frustration. “Look, I’m not saying you’re weak or anything.”

“You literally are.”

“I’m saying old men are creepy!”

Kokichi tried to will away the heat rising in his face.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic!”

Momota leaned forward across the table, lowering his voice slightly.

“They’re going to take one look at a pretty boy like you and try stuff. You look younger than you are, and you trust people too easily.”

Kokichi almost laughed at that.

Trust people?

If only Momota knew.

But instead, he tilted his head innocently. “So, you think I’m some naïve idiot?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You just said I trust people too easily.”

“You know what I mean.”

Kokichi stirred his drink absently. “You barely know me.”

“Yeah,” Momota said immediately. “And?”

“…And you’re acting like you’re responsible for me.”

Momota opened his mouth.

Then paused.

His expression shifted strangely for a second, like he genuinely hadn’t thought about it before.

“…Maybe I am,” he said finally.

Kokichi stared at him.

The café noise blurred softly around them - milk frothers hissing, students laughing too loudly, cups clinking against tables.

“…You can’t just pay for everything forever.”

“I can try.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Probably.”

Kokichi frowned harder. “Kaito.”

The name slipped out naturally.

Momota blinked.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Momota grinned suddenly.

“Oh, we’re doing first names now?”

Kokichi immediately regretted everything but affirmed it in a tiny voice. “I guess”

“Then I’m calling you Kokichi.”

“Fine.”

Kokichi grumbled quietly into his straw while Momota no Kaito laughed.

Still smiling, Kaito leaned back in his chair.

“You don’t have to do anything right now,” he said more gently. “Seriously.”

Kokichi picked at the corner of his drink label.

“But I should.”

“Why?”

Because if he wasn’t useful, people stopped wanting him around.

The answer rose automatically in his throat.

But Kokichi swallowed it back down before it could escape.

Instead, he shrugged lightly.

“I don’t like feeling useless.”

Kaito’s expression softened in a way Kokichi didn’t entirely understand.

“You’re not useless,” he said simply.

Kokichi stared at the condensation sliding down the side of his cup like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Then he laughed softly to cover up the tight feeling in his chest.

“You’ve known me for less than a day.”

“Yeah,” Kaito said. “And?”

What a stupid answer…

Kokichi hated how much he liked hearing it.

--

The park was nearly empty by the time the sun went down.

A couple walked their dog along the far path. Somewhere in the distance, traffic hummed steadily through the city, softened by the trees.

Kokichi lay curled on one end of the bench wrapped tightly in Kaito’s oversized jersey.

It smelled faintly like laundry detergent and cigarette smoke.

Mostly cigarette smoke.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

Kaito immediately tugged the jersey higher around Kokichi’s shoulders without comment.

The fabric swallowed him completely.

Kaito snorted quietly. “You’re tiny.”

“I’m normal sized. You’re just huge.”

“I’m not huge.”

“You absolutely are.”

Kaito laughed under his breath and leaned back against the bench, arms folded behind his head.

Above them, the sky stretched dark and unusually clear between the city lights.

Kokichi followed Kaito’s gaze upward.

“You like stargazing?” he asked.

“Course I do.”

“Why?”

Kaito pointed lazily toward the sky.

“That’s Vega.”

Kokichi squinted. “Which one?”

“The bright one.”

“That describes all of them.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does.”

Kaito grinned. “You’re hopeless.”

Still, he kept pointing them out anyway.

Altair. Deneb. Orion’s Belt.

His voice changed when he talked about them.

Like the words meant something important.

Kokichi watched him more than the sky.

“My old man taught me all this stuff,” Kaito said eventually.

Kokichi stayed quiet.

Kaito had never mentioned his family before.

“He used to take me to this observatory outside the city,” he continued. “When I was little, we’d stay there for hours.”

A small smile appeared briefly on his face.

Then faded.

“He got worse after a while, though.”

Kokichi glanced over.

Kaito’s eyes stayed fixed upward.

“Started drinking all the time,” he said flatly. “Stopped working. Started yelling at everybody. Breaking shit.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“Eventually he just became this…” Kaito exhaled sharply through his nose. “Alcoholic waste of space.”

Kokichi looked down at his hands inside the sleeves of the jersey.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Kaito shrugged like it didn’t matter.

But Kokichi could tell it did.

After a moment, he asked softly:

“Would you wanna go back someday?”

Kaito blinked. “Back where?”

“The observatory.”

For a second, Kaito looked genuinely surprised by the question.

Then his expression softened into something almost boyish.

“…Yeah,” he admitted. “I think I would.”

Kokichi smiled faintly.

The wind shifted gently through the trees around them.

For a while neither of them spoke.

Then Kaito sighed.

“…Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Sorry again.”

Kokichi frowned slightly. “For what?”

“The café thing.”

“Oh.”

Kaito rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Kokichi instinctively opened his mouth to deny it.

But Kaito was already shaking his head.

“You flinched,” he said quietly. “I noticed.”

Kokichi looked away.

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

Finally, Kaito laughed once under his breath.

“Figures, honestly.”

“What does?”

Kaito stared up at the stars again.

“Delinquents like me probably shouldn’t be around nice people.”

Kokichi blinked.

“What?”

“I mean it.” Kaito shrugged. “I get angry too easily. I fight people. I steal stuff.”

“You’re not scary all the time,” Kokichi said quietly.

Kaito looked unconvinced.

“You bought food for a random kid,” Kokichi continued. “You gave me your clothes. You let me stay with you.” He tugged the jersey sleeve slightly. “You even gave me this.”

“That’s not exactly gentleman behaviour,” Kaito muttered.

“Yes, it is.”

Kaito snorted softly. “Your standards are terrible.”

“Nope.” Kokichi smiled a little. “I think you’re a nice guy.”

Kaito stared at him.

Kokichi suddenly became hyperaware of how close they were sitting.

Oh.

Oh no.

Kaito’s eyes flicked downward briefly.

Then back up.

“Kokichi,” he said quietly.

The way he said it made Kokichi’s stomach flip violently.

“What?”

“You’re…” Kaito stopped, visibly struggling for words. “You’re really weird.”

Kokichi laughed softly. “That’s romantic.”

“I’m trying my best here!”

That made Kokichi laugh harder.

And maybe that was what did it.

Maybe it was the stars.

Or the exhaustion.

Or the fact they were the only people in the world who understood one another.

Whatever it was, Kaito leaned forward suddenly-

then hesitated inches away.

Giving Kokichi time to pull back.

He didn’t.

Kaito kissed him carefully.

Kokichi’s breath hitched.

Nobody had ever kissed him before.

It lasted maybe three seconds.

Maybe less.

When Kaito pulled away, he looked completely panicked.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “I should not have done that.”

Kokichi stared at him for one stunned second before grabbing the front of his hoodie and kissing him again.

That seemed to short-circuit Kaito’s brain completely.

When they finally separated, both of them were bright red.

Kaito looked dazed.

Kokichi hid half his face inside the oversized jersey sleeve.

“…Still think you’re an unworthy delinquent?” he mumbled.

Kaito laughed breathlessly and pressed a hand over his eyes.

“You are gonna ruin my life.”

--

Kokichi sat cross-legged atop a stack of unopened drink boxes near the back entrance, slowly eating a melting ice lolly, watching while Kaito unloaded crates from the delivery truck outside.

“Why,” Kaito grunted, dragging another heavy box across the floor, “do they need this many canned coffees?”

“Society runs on caffeine.”

“Society should die.”

Kokichi laughed quietly around his ice lolly as Kaito shoved another crate into place before wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

Kokichi tried very hard not to stare.

And he failed completely.

Kaito noticed immediately.

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

“You took your shirt off first. That sounds like a you problem.”

Kaito nearly dropped the box. “I am literally working!”

“Mhm.”

“You’re evil.”

Kokichi smiled innocently and licked his ice lolly again.

Outside, birds tweeted in the spring breeze. The delivery truck driver smoked nearby while half-listening to a baseball game through his phone.

Kaito leaned against the stacked crates with a tired sigh.

“My boss is gonna kill me if he sees you sitting back here.”

“He loves me.”

“He doesn’t even know your name.”

“Exactly.”

Kaito snorted.

Then, after a quieter pause:

“I checked the bus routes earlier.”

Kokichi perked up immediately. “Really?”

“Mm.” Kaito nodded. “There’s one that heads North pretty regularly.”

“North where?”

“Couple different places.”

Kokichi swung his legs from atop the boxes. “Can we go somewhere cool?”

“Depends what you count as cool.”

Kokichi pretended to think very seriously.

“Tashirojima.”

Kaito blinked.

“The island full of cats?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna spend our non-existent money traveling across the country to hang out with cats.”

“Yes.”

Kaito stared at him for another second.

Then shrugged.

“…Sure. Why not?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Kaito stretched his sore shoulders with a grimace. “Might take us a while to save up enough though.”

“A tragedy.”

“We’re homeless, Kokichi.”

“And yet you crush my dreams anyway.”

Kaito grinned tiredly and reached over to flick his forehead.

Kokichi gasped dramatically. “Violence.”

“You’ll survive.”

Probably.

The thought slipped through Kokichi’s head automatically.

He looked away before his expression could change.

After a moment, he said quietly:

“I can get a job too.”

Kaito’s expression flattened instantly.

“No.”

“Kaito-”

“Nope.”

“You can’t stop me forever.”

“I can try.”

Kokichi frowned down at his half-melted ice lolly. “You’re already working enough.”

“So?”

“So it’s not fair!”

Kaito crouched down in front of him then, resting his arms against his knees.

His expression turned frustratingly gentle again.

“Kokichi,” he said. “You don’t have to earn staying with me.”

The words hit hard enough to make Kokichi’s chest ache.

He looked away immediately.

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s not.”

Kaito sighed softly through his nose.

“I’m serious,” he said. “It’s my responsibility.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m older.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Probably.”

Kokichi stared down at the sticky wooden stick in his hands.

He didn’t understand Kaito.

Didn’t understand why he kept giving things away so easily.

Food. Money. Space. Affection.

Like he thought Kokichi was worth the trouble.

It made him feel warm.

It also terrified him.

Eventually, Kokichi huffed quietly.

“Fine.”

Kaito narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That sounded too easy.”

“I said fine.”

“You’re planning something.”

“I would never.”

“You absolutely would.”

Kokichi smiled sweetly.

And privately vowed to stop being jobless as soon as possible.

--

“I’ll be back by ten,” Kaito said, adjusting the strap of his bag over one shoulder.

Kokichi walked backwards along the sidewalk in front of him, hands tucked into the sleeves of Kaito’s jersey.

“Don’t die while cashing people out.”

“No promises.”

“You’re so brave.”

Kaito snorted. “Go entertain yourself or something.”

“I always do.”

“That’s what scares me.”

Kokichi grinned and waved dramatically as Kaito disappeared into the convenience store.

Then, once he was gone, the smile slowly faded.

Because Kokichi already had a plan.

A few streets away, tucked above a pharmacy and beside a tutoring centre, was a tiny office plastered with bright hiring posters.

NO EXPERIENCE REQUIRED.

HIGH COMMISSION.

START IMMEDIATELY.

Kokichi had noticed it three days earlier.

The call centre smelled faintly like instant noodles and overheated electronics. Rows of cramped desks stretched across the room, employees speaking in exhausted scripted voices into headsets.

A woman at reception looked him up and down sceptically.

“You here for an interview?”

Kokichi smiled sweetly. “Mhm.”

“You’re young.”

“I’m a hard worker.”

That seemed to be enough.

An hour later, Kokichi sat in front of a computer wearing a headset slightly too large for him while reading from a laminated script about double glazing.

It was absurdly easy – years spent tiptoeing around his parents allowed him to slip naturally into whatever version of himself each caller wanted most.

Old men softened instantly when he sounded polite and earnest. Lonely women stayed on the line just to chat. Angry customers calmed down if he apologised softly enough.

And by the end of the trial shift, his supervisor looked genuinely delighted.

“You’re a natural,” she said.

Kokichi smiled.

If only she knew.

That evening, Kokichi arrived at the internet café nearly bouncing with excitement.

He had spent almost all the money immediately on lodgings and food for tonight, and he was happy to do so to see the look on Kaito’s face when he pulled back the booth curtain later that night, exhausted from work.

“…Whoa.”

The tiny table was covered in convenience store snacks, warm takeout containers, canned drinks, and even a slice of shortcake balanced carefully in plastic wrapping.

Kokichi sat proudly in the middle of it all.

“Welcome home!”

Kaito stared at him suspiciously.

“…Where did you get the money for this?”

Kokichi answered instantly.

“I sang for it.”

“You what?”

“I busked.”

Kaito blinked. “You can sing?”

“Beautifully.”

“That sounds like a lie.”

“It’s not my fault strangers were moved by my angelic voice.”

Kaito narrowed his eyes.

Kokichi smiled innocently.

The lie sat surprisingly easy on his tongue.

Not because he wanted to deceive Kaito.

Because he didn’t want Kaito getting angry at himself for not “providing enough.”

Because he knew Kaito would blame himself.

Eventually, Kaito sighed dramatically and sat beside him.

“If you somehow joined a cult while I was at work, I’m leaving you there.”

“Cruel.”

Kaito laughed softly and accepted one of the drinks.

For a while, they just ate together in the dim booth light while rain pattered softly outside again.

Kaito looked exhausted.

His hair was messy from work, hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder, eyes half-lidded with sleepiness.

Kokichi watched him quietly over the rim of his drink.

“What?” Kaito asked eventually.

“You’re pretty.”

Kaito nearly inhaled his noodles.

“Kokichi!”

“What? You are.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that suddenly!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird!”

Kokichi laughed softly.

Kaito’s ears had gone bright red.

Cute.

The thought settled warmly in Kokichi’s chest.

Then Kaito reached over suddenly, brushing a strand of hair away from Kokichi’s face almost absentmindedly.

The movement was so gentle it made Kokichi’s breath catch.

Kaito seemed to realize what he’d done a second later.

The booth became very quiet.

Outside, someone laughed faintly in the hallway.

Kokichi looked at Kaito.

Kaito looked back.

And then they were kissing again.

Slower this time.

Closer.

Kokichi melted into the warmth of him embarrassingly quickly.

Nobody had ever touched him like this before.

Like he mattered.

Like he was something worth being careful with.

At some point, Kaito pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his.

“We don’t have to,” he murmured suddenly.

Kokichi blinked.

Kaito looked nervous now.

“If you don’t want to,” he clarified quietly.

The fact he asked nearly made something inside Kokichi ache.

Kokichi kissed him again instead of answering.

And later that night, curled together beneath scratchy blankets while the city buzzed quietly outside their tiny booth, Kokichi realized with dizzy disbelief that he had somehow lost his virginity on the floor of an internet café booth.

And honestly?

That felt embarrassingly on brand for his life.

--

The weeks passed strangely fast after that.

One day bleeding into another until Kokichi stopped counting how long he’d been gone from home altogether.

Kaito worked convenience store shifts three or four days a week.

And every single time he did, Kokichi secretly slipped away to the call centre.

The money was nice.

Granted it wasn’t a lot.

Bu it was enough for warm food. New socks. Occasional luxuries.

Enough to contribute.

So, every afternoon, Kokichi transformed himself into someone pleasant and harmless beneath fluorescent office lights.

“Good afternoon, ma’am! I was calling today regarding our new double-glazing offers-”

He started to become a valued member of the company.

One older coworker called him “sweetheart” so often Kokichi started timing how long it took each shift.

Usually under seven minutes.

He learned exactly how to make his voice sound trustworthy.

Exactly when to laugh.

Exactly when to apologize.

Exactly how to make lonely people stay on the line long enough to buy an installation plan they probably didn’t need.

It made him feel a little sick sometimes.

It also paid for dinner.

Kaito never found out.

Mostly because Kokichi got very good at lying to him specifically.

Which felt worse than lying to anybody else.

On days neither of them worked, they wandered.

Parks.

Arcades.

Riversides.

Shopping streets packed tightly with tourists.

Sometimes they spent hours inside bookstores reading manga they couldn’t afford.

Sometimes they rode trains without destinations just to watch scenery blur past the windows.

And sometimes-

when they ran low on money-

they shoplifted.

Kaito hated it every time.

“This is wrong,” he whispered intensely while Kokichi slipped instant noodles into his bag with terrifying ease.

“You stole clothes for me.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It was romantic.”

Kokichi laughed so hard he nearly got caught.

Other days, they explored abandoned buildings at the edges of the city.

Half-collapsed schools.

Old apartment complexes.

Factories filled with rusted machinery and broken windows.

Kaito loved those places especially, snapping photos of everything and anything – Kokichi included in a variety of poses.

One rainy afternoon, they climbed all the way to the roof of an abandoned hospital and sat beneath a crumbling stairwell eating convenience store bread while thunder rolled overhead.

Kaito filmed the skyline with his camera.

Kokichi watched him instead.

“You record everything,” he said quietly.

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

Kaito adjusted the focus absentmindedly.

“So, I remember it happened.”

The answer settled strangely in Kokichi’s chest.

Because Kokichi spent most of his life trying not to remember things.

Meanwhile, Kaito wanted proof.

Proof he’d existed somewhere outside of pain.

Proof these days were real.

That realisation made Kokichi kiss him suddenly and hard enough Kaito nearly dropped the camera off the roof.

“Kokichi!”

“You’re cute.”

“You almost killed my camera!”

Still, Kaito smiled as he said it.

Kokichi liked it when he smiled. A lot.

He was beginning to like a lot of things, his life included, enough that he started catching himself imagining futures again.

Cat island.

The observatory.

Different cities.

Tiny apartments.

Kaito laughing in grocery store aisles.

The problem with happiness, Kokichi realised, was that once you had it, you suddenly had something to lose.

--

When Kokichi stepped out of the call centre that evening, the first thing he saw was Kaito standing across the street.

Oh.

Shit.

Kaito was supposed to be at work for another three hours.

Instead, he stood beneath the flickering glow of a vending machine with his arms folded tightly across his chest, jaw tense enough to look painful.

And he looked furious.

Kokichi’s stomach dropped immediately.

For half a second, instinct screamed at him to turn around and disappear back into the building.

Too late.

Kaito had already seen him.

The second Kokichi crossed the street, Kaito spoke.

“You lied to me.”

Kokichi tried for a smile anyway.

“…Hi to you too?”

“Kokichi.”

The warning in his voice made Kokichi’s blood run cold.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said quickly, eyes glued to the floor. “I just picked up a few shifts-”

“A few shifts?” Kaito interrupted sharply. “How long have you been working here?”

Kokichi hesitated.

Which answered the question by itself.

Kaito stared at him in disbelief.

“All this time?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Kokichi, what the hell?”

People brushed past them along the sidewalk, umbrellas bumping shoulders in the evening drizzle, but Kokichi suddenly felt horribly exposed standing there.

“You said you were busking,” Kaito said.

“I did busk once.”

“Kokichi.”

“Okay, technically that one was a lie.”

Kaito laughed once under his breath, frustrated and hurt all at once.

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks.”

Kokichi crossed his arms defensively. “Because you wouldn’t let me work!”

“Because I told you I’d take care of it!”

“You can’t do everything yourself forever!”

“I know that!”

“Then why are you acting like this?!”

Kaito dragged both hands through his hair harshly.

“Because you keep disappearing behind my back!”

The sudden volume made Kokichi flinch.

Kaito stopped instantly.

The anger on his face cracked apart the second he noticed.

“Kokichi…”

“I’m fine,” Kokichi muttered automatically.

Kaito looked sick with guilt immediately, which somehow made Kokichi feel worse.

The silence between them stretched painfully for a moment before Kokichi spoke again, quieter this time.

“Why do you care so much?”

Kaito blinked.

“You act like me getting a job is…” Kokichi gestured helplessly. “Like it’s some horrible thing.”

Kaito opened his mouth.

Then stopped.

For a second, he just stood there breathing unevenly while rain tapped softly against the pavement around them.

Finally, he laughed bitterly under his breath.

“…Because my mom did the same thing.”

Kokichi went still.

“She started taking extra shifts all the time,” he continued quietly. “Saving money. Hiding it.”

His voice sounded rough now.

“She kept saying it was for groceries. Bills. Whatever.”

Something cold settled heavily in Kokichi’s stomach.

Then Kaito swallowed hard.

“But really she was saving up to leave.”

Oh.

“Kaito…”

“She left one night while my dad was drunk,” he continued, staring at the ground. “Didn’t even wake me up first.”

The anger had vanished from his face completely now.

All that remained was fear.

“I know you’re not her,” Kaito said quickly, almost defensively. “I know this is different; I know it’s stupid but every time you sneak around like this I just keep thinking…”

He stopped abruptly.

Kokichi looked up at him softly.

“…Thinking what?”

Kaito laughed weakly, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“That you’re getting ready to leave too.”

The words hit Kokichi like a punch to the chest.

Because Kaito was scared.

Scared in the same ugly desperate way Kokichi was scared all the time.

“I just…” He pressed a hand against his face tiredly. “I just wanna keep you close.”

Kaito looked genuinely ashamed now.

Like admitting that fear out loud made him lesser than.

“Kaito,” Kokichi said softly.

Kaito wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m not saving money to leave you.”

Nothing.

“I’m working because…” Kokichi hesitated, trying to conjure words with his flailing hands. “…because I want us to live better than this someday.”

Kaito finally looked up.

Kokichi forced himself to keep going.

“I wanna go places with you,” he admitted quietly. “I wanna see the observatory. I wanna go to Tashirojima.” A tiny laugh escaped him. “I want us to stop sleeping in internet cafés eventually.”

Kaito’s expression crumpled all at once, and before Kokichi could react, he covered his face with one hand and started crying exhausted, shaky tears he clearly hated being unable to stop.

“Shit,” Kaito whispered hoarsely. “Sorry.”

Kokichi’s chest tightened painfully.

“Kaito…”

“I know I’m being insane,” he said quickly through a broken laugh. “I just- fuck- I got scared. I got so scared that you were going to leave, and I would be left with nothing.”

As if Kaito were a deer, Kokichi approached him carefully, wrapping his arm around his waist.

Kaito immediately folded around him.

“You idiot,” Kokichi mumbled softly against his hoodie.

Kaito laughed wetly. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to be scared of that or be sorry.”

Kaito’s arms tightened around him.

“…Okay.”

They stood there quietly for a while beneath the light rain and city noise.

Then Kokichi tilted his head, a small smile playing on his face.

“You wanna go back to the internet café?”

Kaito sniffed once. “Maybe.”

“We can eat a shit ton of junk food.”

“That sounds good.”

“And watch a really crappy anime.”

That finally pulled a real laugh out of Kaito.

“…Alright,” he said tiredly. “That would make me feel better.”

Kokichi smiled softly.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Then let’s go home.”

--

The overnight bus to Ishinomaki was strangely hypnotic – it sent Kokichi to sleep within twenty minutes.

Not gracefully, either.

At first, he’d tried to stay awake beside Kaito, rambling sleepily about cat island facts he’d read at three in the morning in the internet café.

The island has more cats than people.

The cats predict the weather for local fisherman.

Dogs are strictly prohibited-

And then he was zonked out completely against Kaito’s shoulder.

Kaito glanced down at him carefully.

He curled inward beneath Kaito’s oversized jersey, cheek pressed against the window, one hand loosely clutching the fabric near Kaito’s sleeve like he was afraid of getting separated.

The bus lights cast warm gold across Kokichi’s face, smoothing out the constant guardedness he usually carried.

Asleep, he looked younger.

Safer.

Kaito quietly pulled out his camera.

Click.

The flash went off accidentally.

Kokichi jerked awake instantly.

“Huh- what-”

Kaito burst out laughing before he could stop himself.

Kokichi blinked at him blearily, hair sticking up in every direction.

“…Did you just photograph me unconscious?”

“You looked cute!”

“You’re evil.”

Kaito immediately turned the camera screen toward him.

The photo showed Kokichi completely asleep, mouth slightly open, one hand tangled in Kaito’s jersey.

Kokichi stared in silent horror.

Then he lunged for the camera.

“Kaito!”

Kaito held it out of reach easily while laughing hard enough nearby passengers started glaring at them.

“Delete it!”

“No!”

“I look dead!”

“You look adorable!”

“You’re a criminal!”

“You shoplift!”

“That’s unrelated!”

Eventually Kokichi gave up trying to steal the camera back and instead collapsed dramatically against Kaito again with a groan.

“I can’t believe my final moments before cat island were spent being humiliated.”

Kaito grinned and rested his head lightly against Kokichi’s hair.

“You’ll survive.”

Probably.

Seven hours later, the bus finally rolled into Ishinomaki just after sunrise.

Kokichi stumbled off first dazed, looking around with bleary eyes.

“It’s freezing,” he complained immediately.

“Put another layer on.” Kaito said, draping a blanket around Kokichi’s shoulders, earning a grunt of thanks from the smaller boy.

--

The harbour air smelled sharply of saltwater and rain.

Fishing boats rocked gently in the distance beneath a pale grey sky while gulls screamed overhead.

Kokichi stopped walking for a second just to stare.

“…Whoa.”

Kaito smiled a little at his expression.

The countryside felt much freer than Tokyo.

Slower.

Fresher.

Kokichi turned in a slow circle taking everything in - the harbour, the tiny shops, the misty water stretching endlessly beyond the docks.

Then he looked back at Kaito with sleepy excitement brightening his whole face.

“Are we really doing this?”

Kaito adjusted his bag over one shoulder and grinned.

“Guess so.”

Together, they headed toward the ferry port.

--

“This is horrible,” Kokichi mumbled weakly, slumped forward against the plastic table they were sat behind.

Kaito looked at him incredulously with a hint of concern in his eyes.

“We’ve been on the boat like fifteen minutes.”

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

Kokichi closed his eyes dramatically. “Tell the cats I loved them.”

Kaito snorted and nudged his shoulder lightly.

“You want me to get you something?”

“I want solid ground.”

“That’s not on the menu.”

Kokichi made a miserable sound into his folded arms.

Kaito’s expression softened.

“…Stay here,” he said. “I’ll grab you a drink or something.”

“Bring me back alive.”

“No promises.”

Kaito disappeared toward the small café counter near the back of the ferry.

Kokichi exhaled slowly once he was gone.

The nausea honestly wasn’t even the worst part.

It was the weird floating sensation beneath his feet.

He rested his cheek against the cool tabletop and stared vaguely out the window at the endless grey ocean.

“You okay?”

Kokichi looked up.

A man stood beside the table wearing headphones around his neck and a loose green sweater, one hand tucked casually into his pocket.

He was pretty.

Annoyingly pretty.

He looked around college age maybe, his hair falling lazily across one eye and his fingers were studded with multiple rings.

Kokichi narrowed his eyes slightly.

“…You look familiar.”

The guy laughed softly.

“I get that a lot.”

Without waiting for permission, he slid into the empty seat across from Kokichi.

“Seasick?” he asked.

“Violently.”

“Yeah, this route does that.”

Kokichi studied him carefully.

There really was something familiar about him.

Not personally familiar.

More like…

Recognition.

Like seeing someone from TV unexpectedly in real life.

Then the guy smiled and solved the mystery himself.

“I was on Danganronpa.”

Kokichi sat up a little straighter immediately.

“…Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

The guy held out a hand casually. “Amami Rantaro.”

Amami Rantaro.

Kokichi stared at him.

Holy shit.

“That’s insane,” he blurted out, without thinking.

Amami laughed quietly. “Yeah, kinda was.”

Kokichi leaned forward despite his nausea.

“What was it like?”

Amami’s expression shifted slightly then.

Still friendly.

But more concerned.

“Complicated.”

Before Kokichi could ask anything else, Kaito returned balancing two cups of hot chocolate.

The second he saw Amami sitting there, his expression flattened instantly.

“…Who’s this guy?”

Amami raised both hands peacefully.

“Relax, man.”

Kaito did not look happy to see him.

“We were just chatting” Kokichi said quickly.

Kaito handed him one of the hot chocolates before sitting protectively beside him.

“What were you talking about?”

“Cats,” Amami said smoothly.

Kokichi snorted into his drink.

Liar.

Then Amami glanced between the two of them thoughtfully.

“…You guys got somewhere to stay?”

Kaito stiffened immediately.

“We’re fine.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

Amami reached into his pocket casually and pulled out a small business card.

He slid it across the table toward Kokichi.

“If you ever get tired of struggling,” he tapped it lightly with his fingers, “give that number a call.”

Kokichi glanced down at the card.

No company name.

Just a phone number and a small black-and-white bear logo printed in the corner.

Kaito folded his arms, not bothering to look at it.

“We’re not interested.”

“Maybe not now… but people change their minds when money gets tight.”

Amami’s gaze flicked briefly toward Kokichi instead.

The ferry horn sounded loudly through the air.

Amami stood.

“Anyway,” he said easily, “nice meeting you guys. And seriously. Call if you ever wanna stop worrying about money.”

Before Kaito could respond, Amami disappeared back toward the upper deck.

Silence.

Then:

“What the hell was that?”

Kokichi looked down at the business card again thoughtfully.

Kaito snatched it from his hands immediately.

“He was weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“Not helpful.”

Kaito turned the card over suspiciously before scoffing.

“This looks like a cult recruitment card.”

“Maybe it’s a fun cult.”

“There are no fun cults.”

Kokichi opened his mouth.

Kaito ripped the card cleanly in half.

“Kaito!”

“And now it’s gone.”

Kokichi stared in betrayal as Kaito tore it again and shoved the pieces into his pocket.

“Rude.”

“He was obviously sketchy!”

“Maybe he wanted to recruit us into rich people society.”

“We are not joining rich people society.”

Kokichi sighed dramatically and took a sip of his drink, the chocolate collecting on his upper lip.

Quietly, privately, he repeated the number in his head one more time.

Just in case.

--

Tashirojima turned out to be everything Kokichi wanted it to be.

Cats stretched across sidewalks in lazy piles beneath the sun. Cats slept on fishing nets. Cats wandered into shops like they owned them.

One orange cat climbed directly into Kokichi’s lap within ten minutes of arriving.

Kaito nearly died from how smug he looked afterward.

“Oh my god,” Kaito laughed, already lifting his camera. “Say cheese!”

“Cheese.” Kokichi grinned with all his teeth to the camera, before looking back down at the cat at his feet. “And who is this cutie?”

“It’s biting your shoelace.” Kaito deadpanned.

“It loves me.”

Click.

Another photo.

Kokichi pointed accusingly. “You’ve taken like fifty pictures already.”

“You keep doing photogenic stuff!”

“I’m petting cats!”

“Exactly!”

By midday, Kaito’s camera was probably eighty percent cats and twenty percent Kokichi smiling at cats.

And near dinnertime, Kokichi crouched beside a tiny calico kitten near the harbour while sunlight caught in his hair.

Kaito took the picture automatically.

Then paused while looking at it afterward.

The photo looked…

Dangerous.

Not because of anything dramatic.

Because Kokichi looked genuinely happy in it.

And Kaito suddenly realised he would do anything to protect that expression forever.

“Why are you staring at the camera like that?” Kokichi asked suspiciously.

Kaito immediately looked away. “No reason.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

When dusk fell, the reality of having nowhere to stay hit, they had spent all of their remaining money on snacks and dinner at the local hot pot restaurant.

Kaito rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly outside the tiny local library.

“…Worst case scenario we sleep outside again.”

Kokichi frowned thoughtfully at the warmly lit building.

Then smiled.

“Leave it to me.”

Ten minutes later, Kaito sat in complete disbelief as Kokichi sweet talked the elderly librarian behind the desk.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kokichi said politely. “We missed the last ferry.”

“Oh dear…”

“It’s okay though!” Kokichi added quickly. “We don’t wanna trouble anybody.”

The librarian visibly melted.

Kaito watched this happen in real time like witnessing dark magic.

“Well…” the woman hesitated. “I suppose you boys could stay here tonight if you promise not to make trouble.”

Kokichi gasped softly. “Really?”

“Just this once.”

“You’re an angel.”

By the time Kokichi returned triumphantly, Kaito was still staring.

“…How did you do that?”

Kokichi smiled smugly. “Natural charm.”

“You scare me.”

The library closed an hour later.

The old woman left them blankets, snacks, and strict instructions not to cause young people mischief.

Kaito nearly choked trying not to laugh after she left.

“She thinks we’re wholesome.”

“We are wholesome.”

“Kokichi, we’re homeless and we lost our virginities on the floor of an internet café.”

“That was spiritually wholesome.”

Kaito buried his face in his hands.

The library itself became eerily quiet after dark.

Moonlight spilled softly across bookshelves while ocean wind rattled faintly against the windows outside.

They sat curled together on the floor between shelves of old magazines watching Danganronpa clips on Kaito’s phone with headphones split between them.

Kaito frowned at the screen.

“…So that guy from the ferry really won?”

Kokichi nodded.

“He was super popular,” Kokichi explained quietly. “People liked him because he was nice to everyone without being all sunshine and unicorns about it.”

Kaito snorted softly. “And because he’s a pretty boy.”

“Probably.”

The clips rolled onward.

Highlights from the previous season flashed rapidly across the screen:

The protagonist the Ultimate Seamstress – Shirogane Tsumugi tearfully pleading for everyone to work together.

The Ultimate Botanist laughing manically as he’s executed for poisoning two classmates during Chapter Three.

A horrifying reveal sequence showing the Ultimate Ventriloquist succumbing to despair and professing to be the mastermind.

Kaito stared in disbelief.

“This show is insane.”

“That’s why people watch it.”

More clips followed.

Amami comforting a younger looking boy during investigations.

Tsumugi sewing costumes for the group late at night.

Execution sequences edited dramatically beneath flashy music and screaming audience reactions.

Kaito’s expression grew darker as the Final 2 – Amami and Shirogane stood together, exhausted and traumatized beneath blinding studio lights while the audience screamed around them.

Then came the twist reveal.

A smiling host announcing:

“Congratulations to this season’s survivors! As part of the victory conditions, you will both be required to compete in our 53rd season next year.”

Kaito blinked.

“…What.”

Onscreen, Amami looked horrified.

“They have to compete again?” Kaito asked.

Kokichi nodded slowly.

“That’s the rule.”

Kaito stared down at the phone screen thoughtfully.

“…Why would anybody agree to that?”

Kokichi opened his mouth to answer.

Then stopped.

Because suddenly he remembered the business card.

The promise.

Never worry about money again.

And for the first time, the idea didn’t seem entirely ridiculous.

--

The library’s free Wi-Fi was painfully slow.

Kaito sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by scattered notebooks and half-eaten snacks while Kokichi lay on his stomach beside him, chin propped in his hands as pages loaded one agonizing second at a time on Kaito’s phone.

Outside, the island had gone completely silent.

The only sound came from Kokichi clicking through another archived forum thread about Team Danganronpa.

“…Okay, this is weird.”

Kaito looked up immediately. “What?”

“The contracts.”

Kaito shifted closer until their shoulders touched.

“What about them?”

Kokichi scrolled further.

“Apparently contestants use their real names.”

Kaito frowned slightly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Kokichi tilted the phone toward him. “Look.”

An old interview clip loaded slowly beneath the article.

Former contestants discussing how entering Danganronpa felt like “becoming a fictionalized version of yourself.”

Kaito read over Kokichi’s shoulder quietly.

“They change your appearance and backstory inside the simulation,” he muttered. “And even though your basic identity stays the same – height, age, birthday, what you experience during the killing game leaves lasting changes to your personality.”

Kaito frowned harder.

“That’s kinda creepy.”

Kokichi hummed absently.

It was creepy.

But it was also fascinating.

The deeper they dug, the stranger the entire thing became.

“After the simulation,” Kokichi began, sitting up, “the skills and memories associated with your Ultimate talent remain with you.”

Kaito stared.

“So, if someone became…” He grabbed the phone closer. “The Ultimate Mechanic or something…”

“They’d actually be a world-class mechanic afterward.”

That changed things.

A lot of things.

Kaito leaned back against the bookshelf slowly.

“That sounds fake.”

“It’s Team Danganronpa. They have the technology and money to do basically anything.”

More searching.

More archived interviews.

More horrifyingly polished promotional material.

Eventually Kokichi found a scanned section of an actual contestant contract leaked online years ago.

The highlighted text made both of them go quiet.

MONTHLY POST-GAME COMPENSATION:
1,000,000 YEN

Kaito nearly choked.

“A month?!”

Kokichi stared at the screen.

One million yen.

Every month.

If they collated their appearance fees together, they would never have to worry about money again.

Kaito rubbed a hand slowly over his face.

“No wonder people do this.”

“Yeah.”

Another clause loaded beneath it.

ALL PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL INJURIES SUSTAINED DURING THE SIMULATION ARE TEMPORARY AND CONTESTANTS WILL RECEIVE FULL RECOVERY SUPPORT FROM TEAM DANGANRONPA’S MEDICAL SERVICES.

Kaito frowned slightly.

“So, nobody dies?”

Kokichi scanned lower.

“Yup, apparently contestants are removed from the program and sent to a rehabilitation centre for as long as they need.” He tilted his head slightly.

Kaito exhaled quietly.

“This shit is so fucked up.”

“Yup, it’s really dystopian.”

Still-

neither of them stopped reading.

Hours passed unnoticed.

At some point, Kaito ended up pulling Kokichi into his lap as they continued scrolling through old contestant interviews together.

People smiling on talk shows afterward.

Former survivors showing off expensive apartments and sponsorships.

Contestants talking about how Danganronpa “changed their lives.”

Kokichi watched one former participant laugh brightly during an interview while discussing how she’d entered the show homeless.

Now she owned a house.

A car.

And had a career thanks to her Ultimate Equestrian title.

Beside him, Kaito stared quietly at the ceiling.

“…Do you think we’d be casted?”

The question hung heavily in the darkness between them.

Kokichi thought about it honestly.

About Kaito’s kindness.

About his anger.

About himself.

The lies.

The adaptability.

The way he could become whatever people needed him to be.

Then he smiled faintly.

“Probably.”

Kaito huffed a soft laugh.

“Guess that’s sorted then.”

Silence settled again.

Then Kaito spoke again into the darkness.

“One million yen a month…”

Kokichi knew what he was really saying.

No more sleeping outside.

No more running.

No more wondering if they’d eat tomorrow.

No more surviving.

Just living a dream together.

--

Neither of them had slept much after researching Team Danganronpa all night.

The idea hung between them like a weight.

It was tempting, so so tempting like sinking treasure ships at sea.

Kaito finally broke the silence.

“You still remember the number?”

Kokichi looked up immediately.

“Of course I do.”

“You memorised it that fast?”

“Kaito, I can memorise anything I put my mind to.”

“Right. Evil powers.”

Kokichi smiled faintly.

Then looked back down at his phone, thumb hovering over the keypad.

For the first time since they’d started talking about Danganronpa, real nervousness crept into his stomach.

Because researching it was one thing.

Calling meant this could actually happen.

Kaito noticed the hesitation immediately.

“We don’t have to,” he said quietly.

Kokichi glanced sideways at him.

“…Do you wanna back out?”

Kaito was quiet for a long moment.

Then:

“No.”

Neither did Kokichi.

Slowly, he typed the number from memory and lifted the phone to his ear.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Then the line clicked.

A man answered immediately.

“Team Danganronpa casting department.”

His voice was completely flat.

Kokichi sat up straighter.

“…Uh, hi?”

“Are you calling regarding contestant recruitment?”

Straight to the point.

Kokichi glanced at Kaito before answering.

“…Maybe.”

A pause.

Then:

“You were referred by Amami Rantaro.”

Kokichi’s stomach twisted slightly.

“How did you know that?”

“We track referrals.”

That somehow felt deeply unsettling.

Kaito clearly thought so too from the look on his face.

The man continued speaking in the exact same monotone voice.

“An open-call audition will be held in Tokyo three days from now.”

He began reciting an address, which prompted Kokichi to grab a pen from Kaito’s bag immediately.

It was in Gotanda, in an office building that Team Danganronpa presumably owned, as he recognised the address from the forums they had spent hours scouring the night before.

“No online application?” Kokichi asked carefully.

“No.”

“…That’s kinda weird.”

“Attendance confirms interest.”

Kokichi frowned slightly.

“Do we need to bring anything?”

“Identification.”

Another pause.

Then:

“If selected, psychological evaluation and compatibility screening will occur immediately following auditions.”

Compatibility screening.

Kokichi’s chest tightened strangely at the phrase.

Beside him, Kaito had gone very still.

The man spoke again before either could respond.

“Arrive before noon.”

Click.

The line disconnected.

Silence.

Only the ferry engine hummed softly beneath them.

Kokichi slowly lowered the phone.

“…Well.”

Kaito stared ahead at the ocean.

“That guy sounded like a serial killer.”

“Right?!”

“He sounded AI-generated chat bot.”

Kokichi laughed nervously.

But underneath the humour, his body was coiled tightly like a spring.

Kaito seemed to share his apprehension as he exhaled slowly and leaned back against the ferry seat.

“…Three days.”

Kokichi nodded.

Neither of them spoke after that.

Outside the ferry window, the shoreline slowly drew closer.

--

Inside the bus, everything felt oddly suspended.

Like time had slowed down a little.

Kokichi rested his cheek against Kaito’s shoulder and watched him scroll absently through the photos on his camera.

There were so many now.

Cats.

Train stations.

Convenience store food.

Rainy sidewalks.

Kokichi asleep in approximately twelve different locations.

“You take awful pictures of me,” Kokichi informed him.

Kaito snorted. “That’s objectively false.”

“You made me look short in this one.”

“You are pocket sized.”

“Delete it.”

“No.”

Kokichi leaned closer, squinting at the tiny screen.

There was one photo of him standing near the harbour on cat island with a cat perched on his shoulder and wind blowing through his hair.

He hadn’t even realized Kaito took it.

“…Oh,” Kokichi said quietly.

Kaito glanced sideways at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

But his ears had gone pink.

Kaito smiled slightly and kept scrolling.

There were pictures of stupid things too.

A vendor selling t-shirts with poorly translated English phrases such as “Crap your hands” or “Too drunk to fuck”.

Kokichi holding six bags of chips because they were on sale.

A blurry photo taken during one of their arguments where Kokichi was in the midst of a rant.

For the purposes of revenge Kokichi snatched the camera briefly to take the worst possible close-up photo of Kaito’s face.

Kaito recoiled immediately. “Delete that right now.”

“Never.”

“I look possessed.”

“You always look possessed.”

Kaito grabbed for the camera while Kokichi laughed quietly loud enough the old woman across the aisle to shush them.

They settled down after that.

The bus lights dimmed as evening deepened outside the windows.

Kaito stretched his legs into the narrow aisle with a groan.

“If we actually do this,” he said eventually, voice low enough only Kokichi could hear, “we’re probably gonna end up acting completely different.”

Kokichi tilted his head slightly.

“Maybe.”

“They might give me some stupid talent.”

“You already have a talent.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Kokichi pretended to think seriously.

“Ultimate Delinquent.”

Kaito looked offended. “Rude.”

“Ultimate Guy Who Cries Outside Call Centres?”

“That happened one time.”

“Ultimate Convenience Store Employee.”

Kaito grabbed him around the waist suddenly and pulled him sideways into the seat.

“Kokichi.”

Kokichi immediately started laughing.

“Violence! Assault!”

“You deserve it.”

Kokichi grinned against Kaito’s shoulder while Kaito loosened his grip but didn’t let go completely.

After a quieter moment, Kokichi murmured:

“What if whatever happens in the simulation messes everything up, and we can’t distinguish between our pre-game and post-game selves anymore?”

Kaito blinked.

“Huh?”

“What if we don’t want to know each other anymore?” Kokichi clarified.

Kaito was quiet for a second.

Then he shrugged lightly.

“I’ll always want to know you, Kichi.”

The answer came so naturally it made Kokichi’s chest ache a little.

“…Even if I’m evil and dramatic?”

“You’re already dramatic so you’re halfway there.”

“Wow.”

“And if they make you evil,” Kaito continued, “I’ll just beat you up about it.”

Kokichi laughed softly into his hoodie sleeve.

“Good plan.”

Kaito leaned his head briefly against Kokichi’s hair.

It felt instinctually, which was strange because a month ago, they’d been strangers.

But now Kokichi knew the exact cadence of Kaito’s laugh.

Knew he twitched in his sleep when he had nightmares.

Knew he always gave away the last bite of food while pretending he wasn’t hungry.

Beside him, Kaito suddenly held out one earbud again.

“What’re you doing?”

“Listen.”

Kokichi took it suspiciously.

A stupidly cheerful anime opening blasted immediately into his ear.

Kokichi stared at him in disbelief.

“This song sucks.”

“It’s good.”

“It sounds like friendship propaganda.”

“That’s because you’re dead inside.”

Kokichi rolled his eyes dramatically but kept the earbud in anyway.

And for the rest of the ride, they stayed curled together in the dim bus lighting listening to terrible music and trying not to think too hard about how everything was about to change.

--

They returned to the internet café where they’d spent their first night together. Even though only a month had passed, Kokichi looked back on that night fondly every now and then.

It was the first time Kokichi realised someone could be kind without immediately demanding something back.

And unfortunately-

also, the place where they lost their virginities.

Kaito clearly remembered that too from how red his ears suddenly got while checking in.

Kokichi noticed immediately.

“Oh my god,” he whispered dramatically. “You’re thinking about internet café sex.”

“Kokichi.”

“You are!”

“Please lower your voice.”

Kokichi burst into quiet laughter while Kaito shoved him lightly toward the booth hallway.

Their old booth happened to be free again.

Kaito stared at it suspiciously.

“This feels weirdly symbolic.”

“It’s fate.”

They settled inside with convenience store snacks scattered around them and the soft hum of computers surrounding the booth walls.

For a while neither of them mentioned tomorrow.

Not directly.

Kaito edited photos on his camera while Kokichi lay upside-down beside him scrolling through old Danganronpa audition clips on his phone.

Eventually Kokichi paused a video and looked over.

“…We should probably decide how we’re gonna act.”

Kaito lowered the camera slightly.

“Huh?”

“At the audition.” Kokichi sat up properly. “People don’t get into Danganronpa by being normal.”

“That’s fair.”

Kokichi pointed toward the phone screen where a former contestant dramatically sobbed during an interview montage.

“They cast characters.”

Kaito frowned thoughtfully.

“So, we exaggerate ourselves?”

“Pretty much.”

They sat down on the floor, back-to-back, racking their brains for ideas.

Kaito was the first to speak up.

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

That tone worried Kokichi instantly.

“What are you doing?”

Kaito sat up straighter and lowered his voice into an exaggerated growl.

“I hate humanity. I wanna kill everybody. Society made me evil.”

Kokichi stared.

Then immediately started laughing hard enough he almost fell sideways off the booth seat.

“Kaito, what the hell was that?”

“A crazed lunatic.”

“You sound like a middle schooler discovering Joker edits.”

Kaito looked offended. “I can be scary.”

“Aww such a scawy, scawy delinquent.”

“Shut up!”

Kokichi buried his face in the blanket laughing while Kaito sulked dramatically beside him.

Eventually Kaito poked his shoulder.

“What about you then, smartass?”

Kokichi hummed thoughtfully, his posture curling inward slightly.

“I think I’d act reserved and nervous at first,” Kokichi said, stammering every other word. “But every now and then I’d say something kinda twisted.”

Kaito stared at him without speaking, before nodding. “You’ve got it.”

“Hm?”

“That’s absolutely getting you cast.”

Kokichi laughed softly and dropped the act.

“You think?”

“You’re terrifying in a very marketable way.”

“Aw, thank you.”

Kaito flopped backward against the booth wall with a groan.

“We’re seriously doing this.”

The joking faded after that.

Tomorrow suddenly felt very close.

Kokichi looked down at his hands.

“…You nervous?”

Kaito was silent for a second before speaking. “I’m terrified.”

Kokichi exhaled, leaning sideways until his shoulder bumped against Kaito’s.

“…Me too.”

Kaito glanced over at him.

Then reached down absentmindedly and intertwined their fingers.

And for a while they stayed like that in the dim booth lighting, sat on the floor with the quiet understanding that this was probably the last night they’d ever just be normal teenagers together.

--

They arrived outside an innocuous office tower tucked between two taller buildings at half past eleven.

Honestly, it looked more like a tax company than the headquarters for a nationally televised killing game.

Kaito stared up at it with his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.

“…This feels illegal.”

“It’s probably a little illegal.”

“Cool.”

Kokichi laughed softly.

But underneath the joking, his stomach churned with anxiety.

Because this was real now.

Actually real.

Inside, the lobby looked sterile and painfully bright.

A woman at the front desk barely glanced up as they entered.

“You boys here for the open call?”

Kokichi immediately slipped into character.

He shrank into himself, shoulders tense, voice softer.

“…Y-Yeah.”

Beside him, Kaito went in the complete opposite direction.

He grinned sharply and leaned against the counter with exaggerated arrogance.

“Hope you’re ready for ratings gold.”

The receptionist didn’t react at all.

Which somehow made it funnier.

Instead, she slid two clipboards toward them.

“Fill these out completely.”

Kokichi took his carefully.

The paperwork was disturbingly normal.

Name.

Age.

Address.

Emergency contact.

Medical history.

Synopsis of the character you want to portray.

Kokichi paused slightly at that section before continuing.

Across from him, Kaito had already started writing aggressively large letters like he was fighting the paper.

Kokichi peeked over.

WHY DO YOU WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN DANGANRONPA?

Kaito had written:

BECAUSE WATCHING PEOPLE SUFFER SOUNDS FUN.

Kokichi nearly inhaled his own saliva trying not to laugh and looked down at the same question on his own form.

I want to understand what people become when they’re truly afraid.

Kaito leaned over immediately afterward.

“…Okay yours is actually poetic.”

“Thank you.”

Once they finished, the receptionist collected the forms without visible judgment and pointed them toward a waiting room down the hall.

About fifteen people were already sat inside.

Some looked nervous.

Some excited.

Some deeply unstable.

One guy appeared to be muttering execution ideas into his phone.

Kaito leaned toward Kokichi’s ear.

“Competition’s rough.”

Kokichi snorted softly and sat beside him in relative silence until a girl approached them.

A blonde with sleepy looking eyes carrying a music case.

“You guys here for auditions too?”

Kokichi tilted his head slightly. “Mhm.”

“I’m Akamatsu Kaede.”

“Momota Kaito.”

“Ouma Kokichi.”

“So,” Akamatsu began, her voice brightening slightly, “this is exciting, huh?”

Kaito blinked. “Exciting is one word for it.”

“You don’t think so?”

Kaito shrugged slightly. “I mean, it’s still a killing game.”

Akamatsu’s expression sharpened unexpectedly.

“That’s why it matters.”

Kokichi perked up immediately.

“Oh?”

She leaned forward slightly, fingers folded neatly together.

“Human beings only reveal their true selves under pressure,” she said calmly. “When people are cornered - really cornered - they’ll do anything to survive.”

Kaito frowned.

“That’s kinda messed up.”

“But it’s true.” Akamatsu gave a faint smile. “Danganronpa strips people down to what they really are - all their raw, animal instincts laid bare. My sister wants to study psychology at university, so I’m mostly doing this for her.”

Kokichi studied her carefully.

Interesting.

Before anyone else could speak, another voice cut in nearby.

“She’s right.”

A dark-haired guy sitting several chairs away looked up from the book in his lap.

Unlike Akamatsu, he looked completely emotionless.

Cold, almost.

“People pretend morality matters,” he said quietly. “But survival always comes first.”

Kaito visibly disliked him immediately.

“Human beings are inherently cruel,” he continued. “The simulation just gives them permission to stop pretending otherwise.”

The waiting room had gotten quieter now.

Several applicants were openly listening.

Upon realising he had garnered the audience, the boy grew sheepish, adjusting his hat so it covered his eyes. “I can’t wait to get my hands dirty in there.” He added for extra effort.

Kaito leaned into his ear.

“Okay this guy’s definitely murdering somebody.”

“Kaito,” Kokichi hissed, trying not to laugh.

The wannabe murderer glanced toward them.

And to Kokichi’s surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly.

Like he’d heard him.

Like he maybe even agreed.

--

The waiting room slowly grew quieter as the morning dragged on.

Every so often, a staff member would appear in the doorway holding a clipboard and call another name.

The only people who came back looked pale and shaken – they were obviously rejected.

“…That’s reassuring.” Kaito whispered.

Kokichi sat curled sideways in his chair beside him pretending to read a pamphlet titled Mental Wellness During Simulation Recovery.

“It increases our odds of being accepted.” Kokichi smiled faintly.

For all his “violent lunatic” acting earlier, Kaito was visibly nervous now.

His knee kept bouncing restlessly beneath the chair.

Then the door opened again.

“Momota Kaito?”

Kaito immediately straightened.

“Oh. Damn.”

Kokichi looked up at him.

For a second, the nervousness broke through Kaito’s whole fake persona completely. He glanced at Kokichi and moved closer instinctively like he was about to hug him goodbye-

Kokichi immediately shook his head, trying to communicate non-verbally.

Stay in character.

Realisation flashed across Kaito’s face.

Right.

Anyone here could be evaluating them already.

He quickly recovered and forced on an exaggerated grin instead.

“Heh. In a few hours I’ll be Danganronpa 53’s newest cast member. Try and join me if you can.”

“That was awful,” Kokichi whispered.

“Shut up.”

Kaito ruffled Kokichi’s hair roughly as revenge before heading toward the interview room.

Just before disappearing through the door, he glanced back one last time.

Kokichi smiled slightly.

Kaito winked cockily and vanished down the hallway.

Kokichi pushed down the urge to roll his eyes.

The waiting room felt much quieter without Kaito. He hated how his mood immediately dipped at his departure.

“…You two are cute.”

Kokichi looked up.

Oh no.

Amami had appeared beside his chair seemingly from thin air.

Kokichi nearly jumped.

“How do you keep doing that?”

Amami laughed softly and slid casually into the empty seat Kaito had left behind.

“Occupational skill.”

“That’s confident.”

“A little.”

Up close, Amami looked even more unfairly attractive than Kokichi remembered from the ferry.

He also looked exhausted.

Like someone permanently running on three hours of sleep and bad coping mechanisms.

Amami rested one arm lazily across the back of the chair.

“You made it,” he said.

Kokichi shrugged. “Guess so.”

Amami peered at his face, smiling faintly.

“You’re even cuter when you’re nervous.”

Kokichi blinked.

“…Huh?”

Akamatsu groaned from where she was sitting across from them.

“Oh my god, seriously?”

Amami glanced over innocently. “What?”

“You flirt with everybody.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“You literally started flirting within five seconds.”

Kokichi watched their exchange with growing amusement.

Amami looked completely unashamed while Akamatsu’s arms were crossed with exaggerated annoyance.

After it was finished, the green haired boy looked back toward him, his expression softening.

“I mean it though,” he said. “I hope I see you in there.”

Kokichi tilted his head.

“You think I’ll get picked?”

Amami looked genuinely surprised by the question. Kokichi enjoyed his sincerity.

“Ouma,” he said carefully, “you’re exactly the kind of person Team Danganronpa loves.”

That should not have been as ominous as it sounded.

Before Kokichi could respond, Akamatsu leaned forward from her seat nearby.

“Honestly, I think both of you are getting in.”

Kokichi blinked.

“Both?”

“You and your boyfriend.”

Kokichi felt his face going red. “He’s not-”

They both raised an eyebrow knowingly, and Kokichi decided he hated both of them in the moment.

--

Ten minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Kaito still hadn’t come back out.

The longer it went on, the more certain Kokichi became that Kaito had been selected for something.

Additional screening.

Private evaluation.

Whatever the secretive selection process Team Danganronpa used entailed.

That realisation sat heavily in his chest as a staff member finally appeared in the doorway holding a clipboard.

“Ouma Kokichi?”

He stood immediately.

Akamatsu mouthed, “Good luck” to him as he passed by. The boy from earlier - Saihara Shuichi, Kokichi had overheard - did the same. While acknowledged Akamatsu with a nod he gave Saihara the cold shoulder and followed the staff member into the hallway beyond the waiting room.

She led him past several closed doors before stopping outside one near the end.

“Inside.”

Kokichi pushed the door open.

The room beyond looked less like an audition and more like an interrogation.

Bright lights.

Blank walls.

A single stool positioned directly in front of a mounted camera.

Three older executives sat behind a long table with expressionless faces and open folders in front of them.

And between them-

Kokichi froze slightly.

Shirogane Tsumugi.

Blue hair.

Round glasses.

Calm expression.

The Ultimate Seamstress.

Amami’s fellow survivor.

Except now she sat casually among Team Danganronpa staff like she belonged there.

Like she worked here.

How intriguing.

Instead of letting on how much her presence unsettled him, he kept his expression carefully neutral and sat where instructed.

One executive adjusted his glasses.

“State your name for the camera.”

Kokichi immediately slipped into character.

“Ouma K-kokichi…”

Nervous hands folded tightly in his lap.

He lowered his gaze.

“I understand you’re applying for participation in the upcoming season of Danganronpa,” the executive continued flatly. “Why?”

Kokichi hesitated just long enough to seem genuine.

Then:

“…I’m tired of being weak.”

The executives remained expressionless.

“People push me around all the time,” he continued. “I think…” He looked down at his hands. “I think maybe I need to become someone else.”

He could practically hear Kaito making fun of this performance already.

Still, Kokichi kept going.

“I want a new personality,” he said quietly. “A stronger one.”

One executive scribbled something in his notes.

Another leaned forward slightly.

“And you believe a killing game will provide that?”

Kokichi gave a tiny laugh.

“I know it sounds pathetic. I just…” He swallowed carefully. “I don’t wanna stay like this forever.”

Silence.

The camera light blinked steadily red.

Kokichi kept his breathing controlled.

Usually, this kind of performance worked perfectly.

Adults loved fragile-looking kids.

But-

“Stop.”

Kokichi looked up.

Shirogane had spoken.

She sat with one elbow resting lazily against the arm of her chair, watching him over folded hands.

And she looked amused but not convinced by his performance.

“That facade won’t work here.”

The room went still.

Kokichi blinked innocently. “…Huh?”

“You’re performing but you’re not marketing yourself to us,” Shirogane said calmly.

One of the executives glanced toward her but didn’t interrupt, a clear sign that the Seamstress held more influence over the upcoming season than Kokichi previously thought.

Kokichi forced a nervous laugh.

“I-I don’t know what you mean-”

“Yes, you do.”

Tsumugi’s voice remained light, despite her body language betraying her growing annoyance.

“You’re good,” she admitted. “Better than most applicants.”

Kokichi said nothing.

“But not good enough.”

For the first time since entering the room, genuine tension crawled beneath Kokichi’s skin.

“You’ll need to become a much better liar if you want to convince me.” She paused. “And the rest of the world.”

In that moment, he instantly dropped all pretence.

“…How much do you know?” he asked quietly.

Tsumugi smiled.

“A lot.”

Something cold slid down Kokichi’s spine.

“You and Kaito Momota have been homeless for approximately a month,” she said conversationally. “You’ve primarily stayed in internet cafés and public parks.” She tilted her head slightly. “You also worked illegally at a call centre without telling him at first.”

Kokichi’s chest tightened sharply.

How the hell-

Tsumugi continued before he could interrupt.

“You shoplift occasionally,” she added. “Mostly food.” A small pause. “And you’re very protective of each other.”

The way she said it made Kokichi feel exposed, like he had been stripped naked on the stool.

“You followed us?” he asked.

“We research potential contestants thoroughly.”

One executive finally spoke for the first time.

“Authenticity matters.”

Authenticity.

What a disgusting word for this situation.

Kokichi folded his arms tightly.

“So what? You think sad homeless teenagers make good television?”

Shirogane’s expression didn’t change.

“We think desperate people reveal themselves honestly.”

That answer made him want to leave immediately.

But he couldn’t.

Because Kaito was still somewhere inside this building.

And because some awful part of him still wanted this.

Shirogane studied him quietly for another moment.

Then her voice softened slightly.

“Why did you leave home, Kokichi?”

Kokichi flinched away from the shoulder.

“…It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to us.”

“Why?”

“Because pain shapes people.”

The words sounded rehearsed.

Like part of a script, she’d repeated many times before.

Kokichi laughed weakly under his breath.

“Wow. That’s really creepy.”

Shirogane ignored him.

“What happened at home?” She prompted again.

Kokichi’s throat tightened.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You will eventually.”

Kokichi’s fists clenched at her smug certainty.

“I said I don’t—”

“Were your parents violent?”

His breath caught.

Shirogane peered at him over the rim of her glasses, the picture of sweet, wide-eyed innocence. As if she weren’t prying open the gates to his deep-rooted trauma.

“Did they hit you?”

Silence.

Kokichi’s hands clenched even tighter.

“…Sometimes.”

“Did they feed you properly?”

That one hurt worse.

Because suddenly he remembered with picture-perfect clarity staring at convenience store food through windows as a kid pretending he wasn’t hungry.

He remembered the constant gnawing in his stomach.

Remembered learning how to lie about eating to teachers.

Kokichi laughed shakily before he could stop himself.

“…Not really.”

One executive scribbled something down.

The sound of the pen made Kokichi want to bolt right out of there.

Tsumugi’s voice softened further, by now it had adopted a sickly-sweet quality.

“How long were you starving for?”

And somehow-

Somehow-

that was the question that finally broke him.

Because nobody had ever asked it so directly before.

Not teachers.

Not concerned neighbours.

Not anyone.

His vision blurred suddenly.

It was humiliating.

So, humiliating.

Kokichi covered his face immediately as tears spilled out before he could stop them.

“I-I wasn’t—”

His voice cracked apart like a shattered pane of glass.

“I wasn’t starving,” he whispered weakly. “It wasn’t that bad…”

A lie.

Obviously.

Tsumugi stood slowly from her chair.

Kokichi barely reacted before she crossed the room and wrapped her arms carefully around him.

The sudden gentleness made him freeze completely.

“There we go,” she murmured softly.

Condescendingly soft.

Like comforting a frightened child.

Kokichi hated how badly he wanted to lean into it anyway.

“You’re safe here now,” Tsumugi said quietly against his hair. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Kokichi laughed shakily through his tears.

“That sounds fake.”

“A little,” she admitted.

Then she pulled back just enough to look at him properly.

And smiled.

“Congratulations, Kokichi.”

His stomach dropped.

“You’ve officially been selected as a preliminary contestant for the upcoming season of Danganronpa.”

--

Team Danganronpa moved at lighting speed once contestants were selected.

Psychological evaluations.

Medical screenings.

Personality profiling.

Hours and hours of interviews conducted beneath bright studio lights while producers asked disturbingly specific questions about fear, guilt, violence, and grief.

“What’s your greatest insecurity?”

“What kind of people do you resent?”

“Have you ever fantasized about hurting someone?”

Somewhere along the way, the line between acting and honesty started to blur.

That felt intentional.

They were also assigned “character consultants,” which sounded fake enough that Kokichi initially thought it was a joke.

It wasn’t.

The consultants helped shape the versions of themselves that audiences would see inside the simulation.

Not entirely fictional.

Just… refined caricatures of themselves.

Kaito’s violent act evolved into something closer to a reckless hothead with emotional issues and delusions of heroism.

Team Danganronpa loved it instantly.

“He’s got strong emotional range,” one producer whispered during a review session.

Kokichi overheard and nearly laughed himself sick.

Meanwhile, Kokichi’s own persona became increasingly strange.

At the start of the game, he would appear harmless, with only a subtle undercurrent of manipulation on display. But the longer he survived, the more his true nature would emerge - a shell of malice peeling away like a predator that plays dead before snapping suddenly at its prey.

Shirogane seemed particularly interested in him.

“You’ve become much better at understanding characterisation,” she told him during one session. “Good job.”

Kokichi frowned. “That sounds insulting.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Those are basically the same thing.”

Tsumugi smiled faintly like she found him entertaining.

Kokichi wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or hunted.

The cast briefing meetings were somehow the weirdest part.

Fifteen of them gathered in sleek conference rooms while Team Danganronpa executives explained the upcoming season with horrifying corporate professionalism – the psychology behind certain motives, environmental concepts, trial pacing – apparently this season’s setting revolved around an Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles surrounded by what seemed to be a bird’s cage.

Shirogane didn’t typically attend these meetings until one day she walked to the front of the room carrying a remote clicker and announced casually:

“I’ll be serving as this season’s mastermind.”

Nobody reacted outright.

Because of course she was the mastermind.

Kokichi tuned her out as she worked through the slideshow — sketches of their simulation avatars, demo versions of the motive videos they would receive in Chapter Two, and an explanation of a device called the Flashback Light. His attention only returned when she began explaining just how scripted the upcoming season would be.

“Human behaviour remains inherently unstable,” Tsumugi explained smoothly. “We can influence dynamics and encourage certain pathways via proximity, motives and backstories but the death order is not set in stone.”

“So nobody knows who dies first?” someone asked nervously.

“We have a projection, but no definitive model.”

After that, the rest of the meeting passed in silence.

--

Kokichi didn’t bother memorising most of the cast.

There didn’t seem much point.

Soon enough they’d all be trapped together inside the simulation anyway.

He’d learn them properly there.

Still-

a few people stood out.

Saihara, the annoying boy from the waiting room was one.

The moment Team Danganronpa assigned him the title of Ultimate Detective; he had somehow become even more insufferable.

“With enough planning,” he said during one lunch break, “any murder can become unsolvable.”

Several contestants looked disturbed.

Saihara looked delighted by that reaction.

Kaito continued to visibly hate him.

“He talks like a serial killer podcast.”

“I think that’s intentional,” Kokichi muttered.

Then there was Akamatsu.

Team Danganronpa had apparently selected her as this season’s protagonist archetype, which she accepted with dizzying enthusiasm.

“I think hope narratives are overdone,” she explained during a workshop session. “I want a protagonist who genuinely embraces the violence.”

Kokichi stared at her over his coffee.

“You say things that concern me.”

Akamatsu grinned brightly. “Thank you.”

And then-

there was Harukawa Maki.

Quiet.

Sharp-eyed.

Perpetually exhausted looking.

Kokichi ended up beside her during one of the mandatory therapy exercises where contestants were supposed to discuss “motivational drives for participation.”

Most people gave dramatic answers.

Harukawa didn’t.

“I needed money,” she said flatly.

Kokichi blinked.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

No performance.

No fake philosophy.

No excitement about violence.

Just honesty.

Later he learned she’d also been homeless before joining.

Something about that made him warm to her immediately.

Unlike half the cast, Harukawa didn’t seem fascinated by suffering.

She just wanted a better life.

Kokichi understood that perfectly.

One evening after a briefing session, he found himself sitting beside her on the edge of the courtyard fountain, the only outdoor space they were permitted to inhabit.

“You don’t actually wanna kill anybody, huh?” he asked casually.

She looked forward without expression.

“No.”

“That’s kinda ironic considering you’re the Ultimate Assassin.”

Harukawa glanced sideways at him briefly, the corners of her mouth tipped upward slightly.

“…For an Ultimate Supreme Leader, you don’t seem too bad.”

Kokichi smiled faintly.

“Just wait and see my dear Harumaki, just wait and see.”

“Don’t call me that, idiot.” She shoved him lightly, but there was no real malice behind it - only a warmth that lingered between them long after the moment passed.

--

Neither of them talked or really looked at each other, sitting silently as electrodes were attached by their ears.

The reality of what they were about to do had finally settled in.

Across the room, the other contestants were quietly hyping themselves up.

Akamatsu looked like she was practically defying gravity on the spot, her hospital gown shifting and billowing around her like a rolling wave.

Saihara was much calmer – his eyes closed as if he were meditating.

Shirogane, clad in her own hospital gown, moved calmly between staff members with a clipboard in hand.

Mastermind mode already activated.

Kokichi wondered briefly if she ever stopped performing.

“Contestants,” she announced eventually, “you’ll now undergo memory integration and simulation transfer.”

Some people looked nervous.

Others looked thrilled.

Kokichi mostly felt numb.

A technician approached him.

“Please follow me.”

The launch chamber looked like something out of a sci-fi movie.

Tall cylindrical pods formed a circle around what must have been a power generator.

Each one looked disturbingly coffin-like.

Kaito stared at them flatly.

“…Nope.”

Kokichi laughed weakly. “A little late to back out now.”

“I know, but I still hate this.”

Technicians moved efficiently around them attaching sensors and explaining procedures neither of them fully listened to.

Then the staff finally guided them toward adjacent pods.

Panic flickered low in Kokichi’s stomach.

Because once this started-

everything changed.

Memories.

Personalities.

Their entire reality.

Kaito noticed the dawning terror on his face immediately.

Without hesitation, he reached over and grabbed Kokichi’s hand tightly.

“Hey we’re going to be alright, I promise. Once this is all over, we’ll get an apartment together and put this all behind us.”

Kokichi nodded, wishing he could fully believe his boyfriend’s words.

Then Kaito leaned over careful not to disturb the multitude of wires sticking out of him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“See you on the other side.”

Kokichi laughed quietly despite the fear clawing at his chest.

“I will, space cowboy.”

Kaito snorted.

Then the pod doors closed.

Darkness softened at the edges beneath pale blue light while wires connected overhead.

A voice echoed mechanically through hidden speakers.

“Beginning neural synchronisation.”

Kokichi swallowed hard.

“Memory integration commencing.”

Something cold flooded through his skull.

Then-

pain.

Not physical exactly.

More like his thoughts being pulled apart and rearranged at impossible speed.

Light exploded behind his eyes.

Code flashed everywhere.

Strings of symbols and fragmented images tearing past too fast to process.

Names.

Voices.

False memories forcing themselves into empty spaces.

He saw stars.

A school.

A stage curtain opening.

Laughter that wasn’t his.

Someone whispering:

Ultimate Supreme Leader.

Kokichi tried to breathe.

Tried to hold onto something real.

Kaito.

His name was-

White flooded everything.

Then-

nothing.

…

…

…

Kokichi woke abruptly with a gasp.

Darkness.

Metal walls pressed close around him.

A locker.

His head pounded violently.

For several long seconds he couldn’t think properly.

Memories overlapped

He felt so disoriented, he thought he was going to throw up.

Then without meaning to, he pushed the locker door open suddenly.

Bright light spilled inward.

And directly outside stood a robot staring at him.

At first glance, he looked almost human - roughly teenage in build, with soft silver hair framing a pale metallic face and large, expressive eyes that glowed faintly blue beneath the fluorescent lights. But the black mechanical plating covering his body immediately gave him away; no matter how natural his anxious expressions seemed, he was unmistakably not human.

He was kind of adorable, honestly.

“Oh!”

Even his voice sounded remarkably human, startled as Kokichi stepped out from the locker.

“Um…” He hesitated awkwardly before offering a small, nervous smile. “Do you happen to know where we are?”

END.