Archive of Our Own

The hydraulic press groaned above him.

Warning lights flashed red against the hangar walls in slow, pulsing intervals, bathing everything in the colour of exposed flesh. Oil burned somewhere nearby; the smell sat thick in the back of his throat.

Kokichi laughed.

Or maybe he had been laughing a few seconds ago. It was difficult to tell now. His body no longer fully belonged to him. Every breath scraped like broken glass through his ribs, and the cold steel beneath his back vibrated violently as the machine started to descend.

Above him, through the cage of pipes and shadow, he could still see Momota.

He looked terrified.

That was almost funny.

Kokichi tried to grin up at him, tried to say something smug, something theatrical, something that would make this easier, but the performance was slipping apart at the seams now. His mouth trembled before the smile fully formed.

The steel ceiling descended another inch.

For one horrifying moment, fear broke through everything else.

Not of dying.

But fear that this was it.

That after everything - the lies, the sacrifices, the unbearable effort of making himself impossible to understand – Momota-chan would not execute their plan properly.

Kokichi felt horrible for feeling that way when he realised the other boy was crying openly.

Why wouldn’t he cry? He’s going to become a murder and it’s all my fault.

Maybe it was sweat. Blood. That ran down the side of Momota's face. Kokichi's attempts at making himself feel better didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

The last thing he remembered was machinery roaring deafeningly overhead.

And then everything faded into white.

--

At first, there was nothing.

Kokichi floated through a colourless void so complete it barely even felt dark. Time dissolved there. Seconds and hours lost meaning almost immediately, slipping through his fingers like water.

Maybe this was death.

The thought came strangely calmly.

No execution.
No audience.
No dramatic finale.

Just emptiness.

He drifted aimlessly through it, thoughts slowing one by one until even fear became difficult to hold onto. Every now and then something tugged faintly at the edge of his awareness - a voice, maybe. Warm hands. The sound of somebody laughing.

Gone before he could reach it.

Then suddenly-

Agony ripped through his chest.

Kokichi convulsed violently as air slammed back into his lungs.

His eyes snapped open.

Bright white light burned into his vision hard enough to make him cry out. Liquid poured from his mouth as he doubled forward instinctively, only for unfamiliar hands to grab him before he collapsed face-first onto the floor.

“Easy- easy-”

“Vitals stabilising.”

Voices overlapped around him.

Blurred figures surrounded him on every side, faces hidden behind white medical masks and plastic visors. Cold gloved hands held his shoulders down while another tilted his head toward the light.

“Pupil response normal.”

Something metallic hissed nearby.

Kokichi gagged violently, coughing up more fluid onto the floor beneath him.

Where…?

His body felt wrong.

Heavy.
Weak.
Like he had been asleep for years.

He realised with growing horror that he was sitting inside some kind of transparent capsule. Tubes hung disconnected around him, dripping onto the floor as masked workers hurried around the pod.

One of them pressed fingers against his throat.

“Heart rate elevated.”

Kokichi jerked back weakly.

“…W-Where am I…?”

Nobody answered him.

The room around the pod swam in and out of focus - rows of machinery, towering monitors, and more capsules identical to his, likely arranged in a circle if he’d been lucid enough to take them all in.

No response.

He recoiled as a masked worker picked up his arm and tried to flex his elbow joint.

“Where am I?!” he repeated louder, voice cracking.

Still nothing.

The workers continued speaking around him like he wasn’t there.

It was infuriatingly dehumanisation.

“Motor functions intact.”

“Possible concussion.”

“Prepare sedation if agitation increases.”

Kokichi’s pulse spiked.

He tried forcing himself upright, but his legs buckled immediately beneath him. Two people caught him before he hit the floor again.

“Let go of me!”

He struggled weakly against their grip, heart hammering uncontrollably now.

“What is this?!”

For one brief moment, one of the masked workers hesitated.

Kokichi caught the reflection of his own face in the visor staring back at him:

He could barely recognise the stranger starring back – he looked hunted: pale skin, wide violet eyes, dishevelled matted hair.

Then something sharp pierced his arm.

His body instantly went cold.

“…No-”

The room tilted violently sideways, and the last last thing Kokichi saw before darkness swallowed him again was the inhabitant of the incubation pod next to him.

Broad shoulders.

Dark purple hair.

Momota.

--

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The sound pulled Kokichi back slowly.

His thoughts surfaced first, sluggish and tangled, followed by the ache in his body. His mouth felt dry. His limbs felt impossibly heavy, like he had slept for days and still had not recovered from it.

He forced his eyes open.

A dim hospital room came into focus piece by piece:
white ceiling,
soft monitor light,
curtains half-drawn against the dark outside.

Then he noticed the figure beside the bed.

Momota slouched awkwardly in a chair, arms folded, chin resting against his chest. He was asleep.

Kokichi stared at him, unease tightening in his stomach.

Why was he here?

The last thing he remembered clearly was lying down on the press. The noise. Momota crying.

STOP.

His pulse quickened.

Carefully, Kokichi pushed himself upright. The movement sent dizziness rolling through him, but he ignored it. He needed to leave before Momota woke up.

An IV tugged at the back of his hand as he shifted toward the edge of the bed.

Slowly, he lowered his feet to the floor.

The moment he tried to stand, his knees gave out beneath him.

The IV stand rattled loudly as he grasped it for balance.

Momota woke instantly.

“Kokichi-?”

Before Kokichi could stop him, Momota was already on his feet, holdings his arm to steady him.

“Kokichi, wait-”

“Don’t touch me.”

The sharpness in Kokichi’s voice startled even him.

Momota hesitated but did not fully let go, clearly worried he would fall again.

“And don’t call me that,” Kokichi added through uneven breaths. “You don’t know me.”

Confusion flashed briefly across Momota’s face.

“Kokichi…”

“I said stop.”

Kokichi tried pulling away anyway.

His legs still would not cooperate properly. Every attempt to move sent a strange wave of panic through him, like his body expected pain that never came.

“I can walk,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“You need more time,” Momota said carefully. “You just woke up.”

Kokichi ignored him and forced another step.

His balance failed immediately.

As Momota reached out again to stop him from hitting the floor, the IV line snagged painfully against the side of the bed and slipped loose from his hand.

Dizziness crashed over him so suddenly he could barely stay conscious.

Momota caught him before he collapsed completely, supporting most of his weight while pressing the call button near the bed.

“Ouma, stay with me.”

Kokichi’s breathing had become shallow now, exhaustion overtaking the adrenaline all at once.

“…Why are you here…?” he managed weakly.

Momota looked at him for a long moment before answering.

“Because you’re my responsibility.”

Kokichi frowned faintly, like the words should have meant something to him.

Then his eyes slid shut again as exhaustion pulled him back under.

--

The next time Kokichi woke up, Momota was awake, sitting in the same chair beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees, looking like he had not moved in hours. A small inhaler rested loosely in one hand.

The second he noticed Kokichi stirring, he straightened slightly.

“Hey,” he said carefully.

Kokichi immediately looked away.

His throat still felt raw. His body still heavy. But at least his thoughts were clearer this time - clear enough for some of his defences to settle back into place.

“…What do you want?”

Momota frowned faintly. “Nothing.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Kokichi’s voice came out hoarse but sharp enough to suggest annoyance.

“You here to clear your conscience or something?” he muttered. “Or did your girlfriend finally get tired of you?”

The dig landed exactly where Kokichi intended – to rile Momota up without it escalating into a screaming match.

Annoyingly, the taller boy barely reacted.

He only exhaled quietly through his nose before lifting his inhaler for a brief puff.

Kokichi frowned.

“…You’re annoying.”

“Yeah,” Momota agreed easily.

His agreeability pissed Kokichi off.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Rain continued tapping softly against the glass.

Then Momota reached into the bag beside his chair and pulled something out.

A digital camera.

Kokichi’s eyes narrowed as Momota placed it carefully onto the blanket beside him.

“…What’s this supposed to be?”

“You should look through it.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Momota ignored the comment.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kokichi picked the camera up awkwardly with both hands. His fingers still felt stiff like they had been turned to stone. When he tried pressing one of the buttons, his thumb slipped off entirely.

A ripple of annoyance flickered through him.

He tried again.

Nothing.

The camera nearly slipped from his grasp altogether.

Kokichi glared at it.

Then at Momota.

“…Did you give me this just to make fun of me?”

“What?”

“You saw I can barely use my hands.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You definitely did.”

Momota sighed softly, but not impatiently. More tired than anything else.

Without arguing, he shifted his chair closer and gently took the camera back before Kokichi throw It at the floor or worse him.

Kokichi watched him suspiciously.

Momota turned the camera on.

The screen lit up.

The first photo appeared.

Him sitting cross-legged on a park bench, glaring directly at the camera while holding a soda can with both hands.

The moment Kokichi saw it, he was transported somewhere else.

Cold spring air.

The distant sound of arriving trains.

A voice laughing beside him.

It was gone before Kokichi could dissect the memory.

He blinked hard.

Momota quietly flipped to the next photo.

This time he was asleep against a window on a bus at night, hood half-fallen off his head.

Another sharp burst-

Warmth against his shoulder.

A pop song playing mutedly in his ears.

He felt… safe.

His stomach turned uneasily.

“What…”

Momota kept going.

A blurry photo of Kokichi mid-laugh at an arcade.
Kokichi standing on a rooftop at sunset.
Kokichi petting a cat on a pier while another was rubbing against his leg.

Every image pulled something loose inside his head.

Not complete memories.

But pieces of them.

Feelings without context.

Kokichi stared at the screen in growing horror.

“Why are there so many pictures of me?”

Momota finally looked at him properly then, and in response his grip tightened weakly against the blanket.

“…What are you, some kind of pervert?”

To Kokichi’s surprise, Momota actually laughed out loud at that.

“A little late to start asking that now.”

Kokichi just stared at him and upon realising Kokichi’s confusion, his face cycled through a range of emotions like he was trying to decide how much to say.

Then his expression shifted definitively.

Realisation.

“…You really don’t remember.”

Kokichi’s stomach tightened.

“I already told you I don’t know what’s going on.”

Momota leaned back in the chair, rubbing tiredly at one eye before speaking again.

“After we woke up, I started asking questions,” he started. “About the simulation. About us.”

Kokichi stayed silent.

“I talked to some of the Team Danganronpa staff.”

Irritation flared instantly across Kokichi’s face at the mention of them.

“My favourite people.”

“They told me we knew each other before the game.”

Kokichi blinked once.

“…What?”

Momota nodded toward the camera resting on the blanket between them.

“We came to the audition together apparently.”

The room suddenly went very still.

Kokichi stared down at the camera screen again - the photos frozen there, pieces of a life he couldn’t remember living.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he muttered.

Momota frowned faintly. “Ouma-”

“No.”

Kokichi looked away sharply.

“That was before the killing game.” His voice hardened again, retreating behind something colder and safer. “We aren’t those people anymore, It’s over now.”

Momota was quiet for a second.

Then:

“I want to remember.”

Kokichi glanced back at him.

Momota met his eyes directly.

“I want to remember you,” he clarified. “And I want you to remember me. So maybe we can be friends again like we were before all this.”

The sincerity in his voice made something in Kokichi recoil instinctively.

He laughed disbelievingly under his breath.

“You’re even dumber than I thought.”

Momota sighed quietly, unsurprised by Kokichi’s response.

“You don’t even know what I was like,” Kokichi continued. “For all you know, I could’ve been completely unbearable.”

“You probably were.”

Kokichi stared at him.

Momota shrugged slightly.

“You’re still here though.”

“That’s your defence?”

“It’s enough for me.”

His answer genuinely pissed Kokichi off.

“You wake up from a nightmarish reality show, find out your memories and personality are both fake, and your big plan is to chase someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you?”

Momota crossed his arms.

“You really want me to leave?”

Kokichi immediately looked away again.

“…That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Kokichi opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because the problem wasn’t Momota being here.

The problem was the awful feeling building in his chest every time Momota looked at him like they mattered to each other.

Like there was something missing between them.

Something Kokichi couldn’t reach.

Momota picked up the camera again, turning it over once in his hands.

“There’s more photos,” he said quietly. “Different places too.”

Kokichi’s eyes flicked toward it despite his best efforts not to look at it.

Momota noticed immediately.

“We travelled a lot before the game apparently,” he continued. “All around Tokyo. Apparently, we even visited Tashirojima together.”

A laugh slipped between Kokichi’s lips before he could stop it.

That seemed strengthen to Momota’s resolve.

“I was thinking - we should go back to those places, it could help.”

Kokichi scoffed automatically.

“You want to take me on a sentimental road trip now?”

“If it helps you remember, yeah.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Probably.”

“And creepy.”

“Maybe a little.”

Kokichi rubbed a hand tiredly over his face.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Momota leaned back slightly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Kokichi stared at him incredulously for several long seconds.

Then finally muttered:

“…You seriously don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.”

Silence stretched between them again.

At last, Kokichi slumped back against the pillows, his arms crossed.

“…Fine,” he mumbled. “But if this turns into some magical friendship healing journey, I’m throwing myself out the car window.”

And for the first time since Chapter Two, Momota smiled at him properly.

The sight of it hurt in a way Kokichi couldn’t explain.

--

The rehabilitation room overlooked the ocean.

Kokichi hated that.

Something about the wide glass windows and soft natural lighting made the entire place feel aggressively optimistic. Like the building were part of a wellness retreat for people who wanted to find themselves in the sand.

Tojo stood a short distance away with a clipboard tucked neatly beneath one arm.

“Again,” she said calmly.

Kokichi glared at her.

“You say that every time like it magically becomes easier.”

“As opposed to complaining, which has produced remarkable results so far.”

“…Rude.”

Tojo ignored him with the kind of effortless patience only she seemed capable of.

Over the past week, the sessions had become marginally less unbearable. Apparently, the Ultimate Maid had programmed experience assisting clients recovering from injuries and neurological conditions. Kokichi knew her expertise was fabricated, but he didn’t want any of the freaks from Team Danganronpa to touch him. And besides, their time together was a nice break from his routine of constantly watching the killing game broadcast. The five remaining survivors were gearing up for what looked like the final trial.

“Weight forward first,” she instructed, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Do not look at your feet.”

“I know how walking works.”

“Stop looking at your feet!”

Kokichi clicked his tongue irritably before gripping the parallel bars tighter.

His legs still felt unreliable beneath him - not paralysed anymore, just disconnected in strange ways. His body remembered movements before his brain trusted them. Every step required conscious effort.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself upright.

The muscles in his legs trembled immediately.

Tojo watched closely but did not intervene.

“One step,” she said.

Kokichi took one.

Then another.

Pain flared sharply through his thighs, but manageable. Better than before.

A familiar voice suddenly echoed from the doorway.

“Hey! He’s actually doing it!”

Kokichi nearly lost his balance.

Momota stood leaning against the frame looking far too pleased with himself.

Kokichi groaned.

“Why are you here?”

“Tojo invited me.”

“I regret it already,” Tojo said flatly.

Momota ignored that completely and walked further into the room.

“You’re getting stronger.”

“Wow,” Kokichi deadpanned. “What a shocking medical observation.”

Momota had been crashing almost every session recently. Sometimes he brought snacks. Sometimes terrible motivational speeches. Sometimes he just sat nearby and watched quietly while Kokichi complained through gritted teeth.

Kokichi still had not figured out why.

“C’mon,” Momota said. “Try without the bars.”

“No.”

“You can do it.”

“You’re trying to set me up.”

“I’m not.”

Kokichi narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Then, mostly out of spite, he let go of the bars.

Immediately his stomach dropped.

For one awful second, he expected his legs to give out again.

They didn’t.

Momota’s face lit up instantly.

“There you go!”

Kokichi stared at him in horror.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

Momota barked out a laugh – unfortunately the sound broke apart into rough coughing almost immediately.

Kokichi’s expression changed at once.

Momota turned slightly away, already reaching into his jacket pocket for the inhaler.

The room grew quieter.

Kokichi watched as he took a quick puff from it, shoulders gradually relaxing afterward.

Something uncomfortable twisted in Kokichi’s chest.

“Sorry…”

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

He blinked, pleasantly surprised at himself.

Momota looked equally surprised.

For a beat neither of them spoke.

Then Momota broke the tension with a smile.

“It’s okay, Kokichi.”

Kokichi’s breath hitched at the use of his first name, but this time he didn’t feel annoyance at Momota using it, in fact before he could stop himself-

“…Okay, Kaito.”

Momota no Kaito froze completely.

Heat rushed abruptly into Kokichi’s face as realisation crashed over him a second too late.

Tojo glanced between them once.

Then, with perfect professionalism, she turned a page on her clipboard and pretended not to notice anything at all.

--

Once Kokichi managed to walk unassisted, everything changed.

The disconnect between his mind and body vanished seemingly overnight. While the phantom pain lingered on his legs sometimes - especially at night - each day that passed made it quieter.

And by the time the sixth investigation began broadcasting throughout the recovery centre, Kokichi could walk completely unassisted.

Which, according to Kaito, was “fucking awesome.”

Kokichi took great pleasure in informing him that his undying optimism was deeply irritating.

On the morning of the trial, he sat curled sideways in the lounge near the television, half-watching the pre-trial coverage scrolling endlessly across the screen.

The entire building felt tense, everyone that is except Kaito who appeared beside the couch with his signature stupid grin on his face.

“We’re leaving in an hour.”

Kokichi looked up slowly.

“…Excuse me?”

Kaito looked too pleased with himself.

“Team Danganronpa approved temporary discharge for the day.”

“That sounds irresponsible of them.”

“We’ve gotta do the trip before everyone else wakes up.”

Kokichi stared at him blankly.

“Now?”

“Best time to do it.”

“The trial is literally about to start.”

Kaito ignored him and held up a set of car keys triumphantly.

“They gave us a car too.”

Kokichi was horrified.

“You’re driving?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t trust you behind heavy machinery.”

Kaito looked offended immediately.

“I’m the Ultimate Astronaut.”

“That’s not helping your case.”

“If I can theoretically operate a spaceship, I can definitely drive a car.”

“Theoretically is carrying a lot of weight in that sentence.”

Kaito laughed.

Kokichi frowned at him instinctively.

The sound still caused a strange flutter in his chest.

“I don’t see why we need to go today,” Kokichi muttered after a moment. “Can’t we just stay here and watch the trial like everyone else?”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the television.

Even from across the room, hearing the familiar courtroom music made unease settle heavily in his stomach.

Kaito noticed.

His expression softened.

“Kokichi.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’ve been staring at that screen all morning.”

“So?”

“So, I think getting out of here for a while might be good for you.”

Kokichi opened his mouth to rebuff him, before closing it again.

Because annoyingly enough, Kaito was right.

The recovery centre had started feeling smaller every day since waking up. Sterile walls. Endless medical monitoring. The constant reminder that his memories still didn’t fully belong to him.

And beneath all that-

the growing fear of what else he might remember next.

Kaito crouched slowly beside the couch, coming to his level

“If you get tired, you can nap in the car until you feel better,” he said more quietly. “I promise.”

Kokichi looked away.

“…I’m still following the trial updates.”

“Fine.”

“And if you crash the car, I’m haunting you for the rest of your life.”

“That’s fair.”

Kokichi sighed dramatically before pushing himself upright from the couch.

His legs wobbled at first from the motion but held.

Kaito instinctively started reaching toward him before stopping himself midway.

Kokichi noticed that too.

Something warm and uncomfortable flickered briefly through him.

“You’re really not giving up on this, huh?”

“Nope.”

Kokichi stared at him for another long second.

Then shoved his phone into his pocket with visible resignation.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But if your driving gets me killed after I survived being crushed into a pancake by a hydraulic press, I’ll be extremely annoyed.”

--

Kokichi lingered near the entrance uncertainly.

“This place?”

Kaito nodded as he grabbed a shopping basket absentmindedly.

“Apparently this is where we first met.”

“How remarkable.”

Kokichi scoffed quietly and followed him inside.

The automatic doors slid shut behind them with a familiar chime.

And immediately, something gnawed at the back of his head.

Not a memory exactly.

Recognition.

Kokichi slowed slightly as they walked through the aisles.

His eyes drifted over shelves instinctively until they landed on the bakery section.

Chocolate buns.

The moment he saw them, the memory hit all at once-

His hand slipping one into his sleeve.
Turning toward the exit.
A voice behind him:
“Hey. You gonna pay for that?”

Panic.

Kokichi pleading with Kaito to intervene, who did so hesitantly, slipping a 200¥ note onto the counter and grabbing Kokichi by the hood to talk to him outside.

The memory vanished.

Kokichi stopped walking.

“…No way.”

Kaito glanced over.

“You remembered?”

Kokichi stared at the chocolate buns in visible disbelief.

“I almost got caught trying to steal one.”

Kaito immediately snorted.

“Really? I thought you’d be pretty good at that sort of thing.”

“I guess pre-game me needed a knight in shining armour to rescue him.”

The sound of their back-and-forth rapport echoed warmly through the aisle, and before Kokichi could rebuff Kaito’s remark that he saved Kokichi’s butt, a vaguely familiar voice suddenly called out from behind the register.

“Well, look who came back.”

Both of them turned.

The cashier from the memory stood behind the counter staring at them with obvious recognition.

Kokichi froze.

The man pointed at them immediately.

“You two were in here last night - brothers if I recall correctly.”

Silence.

Kokichi slowly looked at Kaito.

Kaito looked back at him.

Neither of them said anything.

But they shook their heads decisively – they definitely weren’t related.

The cashier either didn’t notice or chose not to.

“You still travelling around together?” He asked them casually.

Another memory surfaced instantly-

Sitting outside the store under the awning while rain poured endlessly beyond the streetlights.
Kaito passing him the chocolate bun without comment.

They continued talking, introducing themselves by name – it seemed they kept their original names.

That’s good to know. Kokichi thought.

Then they got up and started walking somewhere, a narrow building between a karaoke bar and a dodgy looking massage place, an internet café-

“Yup.” Kokichi blinked, looking intently at Kaito. “And I know where we’re going next. Gotta run – nice seeing you.”

He all but sprinted out of the store. And when Kaito joined him a minute later - judging by the lack of shouting from the cashier - he had paid for their things again. The taller boy’s responsible; do-gooder attitude clearly pre-dated their time at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles.

“So, uh where are we going?” Kaito asked him, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Onward to the internet café we spent our first night together in!”

“That doesn’t really narrow it down.” He sighed. “Tokyo is a big city man we’re never going to find it.”

“Does it help if I can remember it’s between a karaoke bar and a massage parlour which I’m sure promises happy endings.”

Kaito groaned, but Kokichi’s inappropriate remark must have been somewhat helpful, because Kaito was already typing into Google Maps. “I think I’ve got it. C’mon, let’s get back to the car.”

“Fine, but I call shotgun,” Kokichi laughed, hurrying back as fast as his recovering legs could carry him.

“You’re the only passenger!”

“And I still called shotgun; you see how that works?”

--

Tokyo drifted past outside the windows in streaks of reflected neon while the low murmur of the trial broadcast played quietly from Kokichi’s phone speakers.

Kaito drove with both hands firmly on the wheel in a way that suggested he was concentrating very hard on looking competent.

Kokichi watched him suspiciously from the passenger seat.

“You drive like an old man.”

“I drive responsibly.”

“You almost missed that turn.”

“I corrected it.”

“At the last second.”

Kaito clicked his tongue. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Debatable.”

His phone buzzed suddenly in his lap.

Kokichi glanced down.

A message from Amami.

They’re discussing the first trial now.

Something feels off.

Kokichi frowned faintly and opened the attached livestream clip.

Onscreen, the survivors argued back and forth in the courtroom while evidence scrolled across massive monitors. Fragments of dialogue reached him through the speakers.

Akamatsu.
The shot-put ball.
The hidden mastermind.

Kokichi’s expression shifted.

“Huh…”

Kaito glanced sideways briefly. “What?”

“Amami says something’s weird about the first trial.”

Kaito frowned. “Weird how?”

Kokichi scrolled through the messages again.

“They’re questioning whether Akamatsu was actually the blackened.”

The car went quiet for a second.

“What?” Kaito said finally.

“Apparently there’s inconsistencies.”

Kaito’s grip tightened slightly on the wheel.

“But that case was basically shut and closed.”

“Apparently not.”

Kokichi watched the livestream silently for another moment.

Somewhere deep in his chest, unease coiled tighter.

Because if the first trial had been wrong-

The whole killing game had been a farse.

Kaito exhaled slowly through his nose.

“We’ll check later.”

Kokichi hummed absently, though his eyes lingered on the screen another second before locking the phone again.

A few minutes later, Kaito pulled into a narrow side street lined with glowing signs and cramped storefronts.

The internet café stood halfway down the block.

The second Kokichi saw it, his stomach dropped.

“…Oh no.”

Kaito looked equally alarmed.

Neither of them spoke as they climbed out of the car.

The humid afternoon air hit them immediately.

And then-

Deja vu crashed into both of them at once.

Them sitting cross-legged on the tiny cubicle floor while watching a cheesy romance anime, arguing over which flavour of Calbee is the best.

Then another.

Steam curling through the communal showers.

Kaito presenting Kokichi with a purloined bundle of clothes.

And then-

A thin blanket.
Dim monitor light.
Hands clumsily tangled together.
Nervous laughter dissolving into silence.

Both of them froze simultaneously, their faces bright red.

For one horrifying moment, they made eye contact.

Immediately both looked away again.

“Oh my god,” Kokichi muttered weakly.

Kaito cleared his throat so abruptly it sounded painful.

“Y-Yeah.”

Silence.

The memory fragments lingered vividly enough to make standing there unbearable.

Kokichi abruptly turned around and walked back toward the car without looking at Kaito, who followed without argument.

Neither of them spoke while climbing back inside.

Kaito started the engine.

Kokichi stared intensely out the passenger window.

The air inside the car felt catastrophically awkward now.

Finally, after nearly a full minute of silence:

“So, we agree we’re never going to talk about that again, right?”

Kaito nodded immediately.

“Agreed.”

The car remained silent for an uncomfortably long time after that.

Neither acknowledged the internet café.

Neither looked at the other.

Finally, Kaito cleared his throat.

“So…”

Kokichi groaned immediately.

“If you bring it up again, I’m opening the door on the motorway.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

Then Kaito cautiously tried again.

“…Where next?”

Kokichi stared out the window thoughtfully.

“Tashirojima,” Kaito said before he could answer. “We definitely went there together.”

“The cat island?”

Kokichi considered it.

“Honestly, sounds fun.”

But after a moment, he shook his head – changing his mind.

“We should stay local.”

Kaito glanced over briefly. “Why?”

Kokichi shrugged one shoulder.

“The trial’s still ongoing. If it ends early, the others might wake up.”

The words came out casual, but Kaito’s smile was different, like it was only a variety only reserved for him.

“That’s thoughtful.”

Kokichi narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t start.”

“You wanna stay nearby in case Harumaki and Shuichi wake up today.”

“That is not what I said.”

Kaito grinned knowingly.

“They can be your friends too, y’know.”

Kokichi scoffed and folded his arms tighter.

“They hate me.”

“No, they don’t, yeah okay maybe they do. But if we can be friends,” Kaito paused awkwardly on the word, before continuing. “If we can be friends, you can befriend them too.”

“I literally tried to ruin both of their lives during the killing game.”

“And? You should let bygones be bygones.”

“I’m a horrible person Kaito, I shouldn’t be around people.”

Kaito snorted.

Kokichi looked away before the warmth spreading across his face became too obvious.

“What?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kaito leaned, over squeezing his shoulder while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. “You’re not a horrible person – you were manipulated into being the villain by a bunch of fuckers who get off on teenagers killing each other. If you were a horrible person, you wouldn’t be in this car right now.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being serious Kokichi. You need to give yourself more credit.”

“Fine I will if it gets you to shut up.” Kokichi huffed, crossing his arms loosely.

“Good.” Kaito gave him a thumbs up with his freehand before returning it to the steering wheel. “So if you don’t wanna go to Tashirojima, do you have somewhere else in mind?”

“Yeah… I do.”

Kaito perked up. “Yeah?”

Kokichi hesitated.

“I stole my personnel file from one of the Team Danganronpa employees.”

Kaito blinked once, before grinning with all his teeth.

“Of course you did-“

“Anyway,” Kokichi interrupted, “apparently my last registered job before the audition was at some call centre in Shibuya.”

Kaito looked surprised.

“You worked at a call centre?”

“Apparently.”

“That explains a lot actually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Being paid to be annoying sounds right up your street.”

Kokichi clicked his tongue but didn’t fully hide the small smile threatening to break at the corner of his mouth.

Kaito noticed.

“Alright,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Kokichi pulled his phone back out and opened the address he’d saved from the file. And for the first time since leaving the rehabilitation facility, he felt genuinely excited to uncover more pieces of the life he and Kaito had shared before the killing game.

Every new clue felt like another step deeper into a mystery only the two of them could solve. It felt adventurous in a strange way - like they were pirates following a weathered treasure map, chasing fragments of a treasure that had been buried and scattered across the country.

--

Kaito switched off the engine.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Kokichi looked up at the building-

-and the memory hit instantly.

Exhaustion dragging at every step after a late shift.
Kaito standing outside the entrance waiting for him.

Beside him, Kaito went equally still.

“Oh,” he breathed.

Another fragment crashed into place.

“You said you were busking,” Kaito said.

“I did busk once…”

Static filled Kokichi’s ears.

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks.”

Kokichi resurfaced painfully, like he was crashing upward through icy water. His heart was beating so hard it left him winded.

Kaito had been waiting outside for him because he was worried.

Because they-

His stomach twisted into a knot.

“No way,” he whispered.

Kaito looked at him slowly.

And in the silence between them, they both understood it at the same time.

Not friendship.

Not ambiguity.

They had been in love with one another.

Kokichi immediately tried to shut it down.

“Nope.”

Kaito blinked. “What?”

“We’re not doing this.”

“Kokichi-”

“No.”

His voice came out sharper now, defensive panic bubbling in his chest.

Outside, the world continued on as normal as memory fragments kept surfacing without permission-

Kaito asleep beside him on the bus.
Body intertwined while sleeping on a park bench.
Late-night arguments dissolving into laughter.

Kokichi’s chest tightened painfully.

Too much.

It was too much.

Kaito watched him carefully.

“You remembered it too.”

Kokichi said nothing.

But the silence answered for him.

Kaito’s expression softened in a way that made the situation worse.

“We were together,” he said quietly.

“Don’t.”

“I knew there was something between us.”

“Kaito.”

Kokichi squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away this conversation.

But Kaito kept going anyway, voice gentler now.

“I want to remember all of it.”

Kokichi laughed weakly under his breath, sounding dangerously close to breaking down.

“Why?”

“Because it mattered.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You really don’t.”

Kaito frowned slightly. “Why are you acting like this is a bad thing?”

Kokichi finally looked at him then.

“You don’t understand.”

“Kokichi-”

“I’m serious.”

His breathing had started shaking slightly.

“We just woke up from a reality show where I emotionally terrorised everyone around me and got myself crushed under a hydraulic press.”

“Kokichi-”

“And now you’re sitting here talking about loving me again like that’s somehow normal!”

The words cracked apart halfway through.

Kokichi looked away again immediately, one hand pressing hard against his own eyes.

“You can’t love me,” he whispered.

The tears came suddenly after that.

Real tears.

Uncontrolled.

Kokichi curled inward in the passenger seat, trying to make himself smaller.

“I’m too damaged.”

The confession ripped out of him.

And for a second, Kaito said nothing at all.

Then quietly:

“You think I don’t know that?”

Kokichi’s shoulders trembled.

Kaito leaned back against the seat, eyes fixed forward instead of forcing Kokichi to look at him.

“We’re both damaged,” he said softly. “Everyone from the killing game is.”

A distant car horn filled the silence between them.

“But I still want to remember you anyway.”

Kokichi covered his face completely after that, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was crying, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

He remained curled up, wiping furiously at his face whenever new tears escaped despite his best efforts.

Kaito pretended not to notice.

Kokichi appreciated the courtesy.

The silence between them felt fragile now, stretched tightly around everything they still didn’t know how to say.

Then Kokichi’s phone buzzed sharply against the dashboard.

He grabbed it quickly, grateful for the interruption.

A flood of new messages from Amami filled the screen.

Kokichi’s eyes scanned rapidly across the text.

“…Huh.”

Kaito glanced over carefully. “What happened?”

Kokichi stared at the newest update another second before speaking.

“Shirogane’s the mastermind.”

Kaito’s eyebrows shot upward.

“What?”

“She killed Amami. Not Akamatsu.”

Kaito exhaled slowly.

“You ever suspected her?”

Kokichi hummed faintly.

“Kinda - out of everyone left she was the most likely option.”

Kaito looked genuinely curious now to understand his reasoning. “Seriously?”

“Please. I saw through the whole I’m a plain Jane schtick from the beginning, and she was trying a little too hard to blend it with the background furniture for most of the game.”

“That’s not actual evidence.”

“No, but by process of elimination, she’s the only person who it could have been.”

Kaito snorted softly.

“I thought you were more suspicious of Kiibo.”

Kokichi leaned his head back against the seat.

“I was.”

“Why?”

For a moment Kokichi stayed quiet, eyes drifting toward the window.

Then finally:

“The Necronomicon motive.”

Kaito frowned slightly. “What about it?”

“That was when things stopped making sense.”

Kaito waited.

Kokichi folded his arms loosely.

“The motive implied resurrection was possible. That should’ve been impossible unless the killing game itself was fake somehow.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “After that, I started considering the possibility we were being watched. And Kiibo… he was literally a robot filled with unknown hardware.”

Kaito blinked once.

“You thought he was recording everyone?”

“I thought he could’ve been connected to whoever was running the game.”

Kaito stared at him for a second.

Then laughed quietly in disbelief.

“That’s insane.”

“I was right.”

“You were, you’re a smart guy Kokichi.”

Kokichi shrugged one shoulder, trying to be casual even though Kaito’s compliment was threatening to short-circuit his brain.

“…Shut up.”

“I mean it.”

“Stop talking.”

“You figured out more than anyone else did.”

Kokichi crossed his arms tighter, ears burning bright red now.

“I’m going to throw myself out of this car.”

Kaito laughed again, it was a sound Kokichi would never fully get used to. He liked hearing it… a lot.

“…Do you want to head back?” The taller boy asked, his tone far more serious now.

Kokichi glanced over.

“To the rehabilitation centre,” Kaito clarified. “We’ve done enough for one day.”

Kokichi looked down at the phone still resting in his hands.

“…I wanna go to Tashirojima.”

Kaito blinked. “Really?”

“I do… but what about Saihara and Harukawa?”

“We’ll be back by the time they wake up.” Kaito said casually. “And besides I wanna spend more time with you.”

Kokichi rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly.

“Please don’t make any more comments like that.”

Kaito started the engine again with a laugh. “No promises.” Then he glanced at the GPS and gave a small nod. “We should reach the coast around golden hour. Should be a pretty night.”

Kokichi looked out the window for a moment before humming softly. “Sounds good.”

Kaito reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze before pulling back onto the road.

Damn you Kaito and your stupidly intoxicating touch.

--

The city gradually gave way to open roads and coastline, late afternoon sunlight pouring gold across the dashboard as they drove.

Kaito had insisted on putting on music.

Kokichi had immediately complained about his playlist.

“This song sounds like it was made for dads going through divorces.”

“It’s classic rock.”

“It’s boring rock.”

“Hey! A lot of cool people listen to music like this.”

“You sure?”

Kaito laughed loudly enough that Kokichi caught himself smiling again before quickly hiding it against the window.

Somewhere along the journey they started playing car games to pass the time.

Mostly because Kaito refused to let Kokichi spend the entire drive doomscrolling through trial updates.

“Name an animal for every letter of the alphabet,” Kaito said.

“That’s easy.”

“Oh really? We’ll see how confident you are once you hit Q and X.”

“You’re an astronaut trainee; you probably don’t even know the alphabet.”

“Hey being an astronaut trainee takes a lot of brains, and besides being an astronaut is awesome.”

“Not when you’ve made it your entire personality.”

Kaito nearly missed a turn laughing so hard.

Later, they started counting oddly specific roadside objects.

Then arguing about which prefectures had the best food.

Then making up increasingly stupid backstories for random people at gas stations.

By the time the coastline came fully into view, Kokichi realised with quiet horror that he had stopped checking his phone every five minutes.

He had been distracted.

Kaito Momota of all people had captivated his attention for an extended period of time.

The thought settled strangely in his chest.

Sunlight flashed across the windshield as Kaito rested one hand loosely on the steering wheel.

The other drifted absentmindedly onto Kokichi’s leg during conversation, like it belonged there naturally.

Kokichi stiffened for half a second.

Kaito noticed immediately and started pulling away.

But Kokichi didn’t let him, instead he anchored his hand there – warm through the fabric of his jeans.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

But the silence afterward felt different.

The ferry port finally came into view just as the sky began turning orange with evening light.

Small fishing boats rocked gently against the docks while distant gulls circled overhead. Beyond the water, Tashirojima sat silhouetted against the horizon, glowing softly beneath golden hour sunlight.

Kaito parked near the terminal and shut the engine off.

“We made good time,” he said.

Kokichi looked out toward the island quietly.

“It’s pretty.”

Kaito smiled slightly.

“Told you.”

Kokichi’s phone suddenly vibrated violently in his pocket.

Then again.

And again.

His brow furrowed as he pulled it out.

The screen was overflowing with unread messages.

Most from Akamatsu.

Kaito leaned over slightly. “What happened?”

Kokichi opened the newest messages, nudging Kaito to look at them.

We know the truth now.

Saihara exposed everything.

They’re trying to shut the whole thing down.

The audience is turning against Team Danganronpa.

We might actually end this.

Kokichi stared silently at the screen.

Further messages kept arriving in real time.

The staff are panicking they want to cut the broadcast.

Kiibo is going super Saiyan!

Kaito looked toward the harbour thoughtfully.

“…They’re really doing it.”

Kokichi swallowed once.

Since waking up, Danganronpa had felt untouchable. Bigger than any of them. An entire system designed to consume people and turn suffering into entertainment.

And now-

it was collapsing.

His phone buzzed again.

Amami this time.

Where are you two???

Kokichi glanced sideways at Kaito.

Then toward the island waiting across the water, before replying with:

Tashirojima. Should be back tonight.

--

The ferry ride to Tashirojima was much quieter than the drive.

Most of the passengers stayed out on the deck taking photos of the sunset or feeding gulls circling overhead. Warm evening light shimmered across the ocean in endless gold reflections while the island slowly grew larger in the distance.

Kokichi sat inside near the window looking deeply unwell.

“…I hate boats,” he muttered faintly.

Kaito glanced over from beside him.

“You said that last time too.”

Kokichi frowned. “There was a last time? I can’t recall.”

“Yeah.” Kaito smiled slightly at the memory. “You got seasick almost immediately.”

“That’s humiliating.”

“You tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, even though you almost threw up on my shoes.”

Kokichi buried his face briefly against the cool window glass.

“Please stop talking.”

Kaito laughed quietly.

The sound settled warmly between them now, familiar in a way neither questioned anymore.

A stronger wave rocked gently beneath the ferry.

Kokichi immediately looked worse.

Kaito noticed and started pushing himself upright.

“I’m getting you something hot to drink.”

Before he could fully stand, Kokichi grabbed his sleeve.

Kaito paused.

“Just stay here.”

The words came out quieter than usual.

For a moment Kaito simply looked at him.

Then he sat back down without argument.

The ferry hummed steadily across the water while sunlight spilled orange across the cabin floor.

Kokichi slowly loosened his grip on Kaito’s sleeve but didn’t fully let go.

Another memory surfaced quietly between them.

“…This is where Amami gave me the business card.”

Kaito looked over.

“For the audition?”

Kokichi nodded once.

“He approached me when you went to get us hot chocolate.” His expression turned distant. “I thought it was some weird scam at first.”

Kaito smiled faintly. “Well, Amami can gives off sketchy vibes when he’s not smiling, so fair enough.”

Kokichi hummed weakly.

Outside the window, the ocean glittered endlessly beneath the setting sun.

After a moment, Kaito asked quietly:

“Do you regret taking it?”

The question lingered heavily between them.

Kokichi looked down at his hands.

The killing game had erased their old identities.

Left all of them broken in different ways.

But it had also-

“…No,” he admitted, leaning back against the seat before continuing. “It was horrible, but we survived it, and now Team Danganronpa’s collapsing.”

His fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of Kaito’s sleeve.

“We’ll probably never have to worry about money again either.”

Kaito laughed softly under his breath.

“Practical as always.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

The warmth in Kaito’s voice made Kokichi glance away immediately.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Kaito looking out toward the approaching island.

“…I think I regret it.”

Kokichi looked back at him properly.

Kaito smiled faintly, but there was sadness behind it now.

“I wish I could remember everything properly.”

“You remember things.”

“It’s not enough.”

Kaito rested his arms loosely across his knees.

“I wish I could remember how amazing you were.”

Kokichi’s brain did a flip, his fists clenching.

“…Don’t say stuff you don’t mean.”

“I meant it.”

Kokichi’s throat tightened.

Kaito’s expression stayed calm.

“You think I’d spend all day driving across the country for someone I didn’t care about?”

Kokichi opened his mouth to respond, to undermine his argument somehow but before he could respond-

the ferry horn sounded loudly across the water.

Tashirojima was before their eyes.

--

It felt strangely untouched by the rest of the world.

The air smelled like salt and sun-warmed wood. Small houses sat scattered along narrow pathways while cats wandered freely everywhere - lounging beneath benches, stretched across stone walls, weaving lazily between tourists’ legs like they owned the island.

Which, honestly, they probably did.

The second Kokichi stepped off the ferry, three cats immediately approached him.

Kaito stared.

“You’re a cat magnetic.”

Kokichi crouched carefully, laughing softly as one rubbed against his knee.

“I told you I’m charismatic.”

Another cat hopped onto the bench beside him, and Kokichi scratched beneath its chin automatically like it was kismet.

Something about the island loosened the knots and tension his body had acquired.

The ocean.
The warmth.
The quiet.

It felt comforting in a way the rehabilitation centre never had.

Kaito watched him carefully as they wandered along the coastline.

“You look different here.”

Kokichi glanced over. “Different how?”

“I don’t know, relaxed I guess.”

Kokichi looked momentarily surprised by that.

Then he glanced out toward the water again.

“…It kinda feels like home.”

The admission came quiet enough that Kaito almost missed it.

Before he could say anything, another cat climbed directly into Kokichi’s lap while he sat down near the harbour wall.

Kaito barked out a laugh.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You really are their naturally born leader.”

Kokichi rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Yes, yes. Bow before my overwhelming cat-based authority.”

Kaito sat beside him on the pier.

“You could definitely start a tiny evil organisation here.”

“I sure could.”

“The cats are your minions.”

“No, they’re not, they all love me.”

As if to prove a point, one of the cats immediately abandoned Kokichi to climb into Kaito’s lap instead.

Kokichi pointed accusingly.

“Traitor.”

Kaito grinned smugly while petting it.

“Looks like they know who the real leader is.”

“Give it back.”

“You can’t own a cat after five minutes.”

“Watch me.”

The sunlight around them diluted steadily toward orange and gold while the island grew quieter with evening.

Eventually the playful bickering faded naturally into comfortable silence.

They ended up sitting side by side at the edge of the pier, Kaito’s arm resting loosely around Kokichi’s shoulders while a sleeping cat curled warm and heavy across Kokichi’s lap.

This time, Kokichi didn’t tense at the contact.

He leaned into it instead.

Then his phone buzzed.

He opened the messages and blinked, half-convinced they were a figment of his imagination. But they were real. Akamatsu wouldn’t joke about something like this.

It’s over.

The killing game ended.

Team Danganronpa’s shutting down.

We’re free.

Kokichi stared at the screen silently.

Free.

His eyes burned suddenly.

“They did it,” he whispered.

Kaito looked over immediately.

Kokichi laughed weakly under his breath while wiping quickly at his face.

“They actually did it…”

Relief washed through him so powerfully it almost bowed him over.

No more killing games.
No more audiences.
No more teenagers being exploited for someone else’s story.

Beside him, Kaito smiled softly.

“We did it. All of us.”

The cat in Kokichi’s lap stretched lazily, entirely unbothered by the emotional rollercoaster undertaken by its cushion in the span of thirty seconds.

Then suddenly Kokichi sat upright.

“I need to go somewhere.”

Kaito blinked. “What?”

He stood up carefully from the pier, scooping the cat into his arms before it could protest. And after a second of consideration, he settled it comfortably across his shoulders.

Surprisingly cat accepted this arrangement and began emitting a purr which tickled the tips of Kokichi’s hair.

Kaito stared in disbelief.

“You can’t just wear a cat.”

“Watch me.”

“That’s not a response.”

Kokichi looked toward the hill leading deeper into the island, expression distant suddenly.

“The library.”

Kaito straightened slightly. “There’s a library here?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

Kokichi frowned faintly like he was listening to something far away.

“It’s calling me, we’ve definitely been there before.”

Kaito stared at him for a second.

Then sighed fondly beneath his breath and pushed himself up from the pier.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The cat perched proudly across Kokichi’s shoulders as he started walking uphill toward the narrow pathways winding through the island.

Kaito followed close behind without hesitation.

The sky had deepened into soft blue and purple by now.

Neither of them spoke much.

Not because things were awkward anymore.

Because the quiet felt comfortable.

Familiar.

The library sat near the top of the hill overlooking the harbour below - small and old-fashioned, with wide windows and curtains billowing softly in the evening breeze.

Kokichi stopped walking the second he saw it.

And suddenly-

A late night sat watching old Danganronpa interviews.

Browsing forums.

Kaito lay asleep on the floor beneath a blanket while Kokichi pretended to read, secretly watching him instead.

He gasped.

Kaito turned to him, concern etched into his face.

“…You okay?”

Kokichi nodded too quickly.

“Fine.”

He wasn’t.

But before Kaito could question it further, the library door opened.

An elderly woman stepped outside carrying a stack of books.

The moment she saw them, her entire face brightened with recognition.

“Oh!”

Kokichi froze.

“You came back!”

The librarian descended the front steps slowly, smiling warmly at both of them.

“It’s wonderful to see you two again.”

Kaito blinked in surprise. “You remember us?”

“Of course I do.” She laughed softly. “It was lovely seeing such a young couple so in love.”

Couple.

In love.

The world around him suddenly felt muffled.

Like his head had gone underwater.

He could not deny it anymore.

The librarian kept speaking gently, unaware of his existential crisis.

“You’re welcome to stay here again if you need to. You two were very sweet and left the library in perfect condition.”

Kokichi barely heard her.

Because memories were crashing into him now all at once-

Kaito giving him his jersey on a particularly cold night.
Their cold breath dancing in the air.
Kissing quietly in an alleyway after a successful shop lifting heist.
Falling in love slowly and completely before the killing game ever began.

Every fragmented feeling suddenly connected.

Every missing piece clicked violently into place.

The librarian eventually excused herself with another smile, locking the front doors behind her as she headed down toward the village.

Kaito watched her leave, smiling faintly.

“She kinda reminds me of my grandma,” he admitted quietly. “I know she wasn’t real, but…” He looked toward the darkening horizon. “I’m still sad she doesn’t exist.”

No response came.

Kaito turned back.

And immediately panicked.

“Kokich-?”

Kokichi had collapsed to the ground.

The cat startled violently and scampered away as Kokichi curled inward on the floor, both hands gripping at his own sleeves while harsh, broken sobs tore out of him uncontrollably.

“Kokichi!”

Kaito dropped beside him instantly.

“What’s wrong?!”

Kokichi shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face faster now.

“I remember,” he choked out.

Kaito froze.

“I remember everything.”

More memories crashed endlessly through him-
every late-night conversation,
every fight,
every quiet moment together.

How deeply they had loved each other before any of this happened.

And somehow that only made the pain worse.

Kokichi pressed trembling hands against his face.

“There’s something wrong with me,” he whispered brokenly.

“Kokichi-”

“I mean it.”

His breathing shook violently.

“My brain- my personality- whatever they did to us-” He laughed weakly through tears. “I ruin everything. I always ruin everything.”

Kaito’s expression tightened painfully.

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

Kokichi looked up at him then, terrified and devastated all at once.

“You don’t understand how bad it gets inside my head sometimes.” His voice cracked apart. “It’s like there’s a bomb inside my brain. Why can’t I be normal again? What can’t I love people properly anymore? Why is there just something fundamentally wrong with me?”

Kaito stared at him for one long silent moment.

Then carefully reached up and pulled Kokichi’s shaking hands away from his face.

“There’s nothing unfixable about you.”

Kokichi immediately shook his head.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“How?!”

“Because I love you.”

The words landed softly.

Kokichi went completely still.

Kaito’s own eyes looked wet now too, though his voice never wavered.

“And if you’re hurting,” he continued quietly, “then we’ll deal with it together.”

“Kaito…”

“We don’t have to magically fix everything overnight.” A small smile tugged weakly at the corner of his mouth. “We can just take it one day at a time.”

The evening wind moved softly through the trees around them.

“One day at a time,” Kaito repeated. “And eventually we’ll find our way back together.”

Kokichi stared at him through blurred vision.

Hopelessly sincere.

A complete idiot.

“…You’re so naïve,” Kokichi whispered tearfully.

Kaito laughed quietly. “Probably.”

Kokichi shook his head once, overwhelmed affection and grief twisting painfully together inside his chest.

Then finally, trembling slightly, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Kaito kissed him back immediately.

It wasn’t a perfect ending.

It was messy, chaotic, rough around the edges

But as the last light of sunset faded slowly across Tashirojima, with the ocean stretching endlessly below them and the future finally unwritten for the first time in their lives-

it felt possible that one day, somehow, everything would be okay.