Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was cold.

Standing shirtless in the hangar with blood dripping down his back and right arm, Kokichi Ouma was cold.

Having Momota shoot him in the arm with a crossbow was surprising enough, but Harukawa riding in on an Exisal with a crossbow and poison-tipped arrows was the icing on the cake. Or, in this case, the nail in the coffin for Ouma.

Saying that Ouma was put off by the girl would be an understatement; The fact that Harukawa was a contract killer and the organization that Ouma founded was strictly against murder, due to the boy’s personal vendetta against it, made it difficult for Ouma to tolerate her bloodthirsty ways. The reality was that he was extremely uncomfortable with her presence in the group, and did everything he could to mock her and isolate her. But in the long run, the one who was mocked and isolated was Ouma himself.

He let out a soft chuckle, thinking back to himself about how he ended up in this situation in the first place. Ouma had put on an elaborate act and purposefully isolated himself from the others, that fact was very well known to him. Constantly charading that he was some evil being, an entity to be despised and frowned upon, was the hallmark of his grand scheme in ending this killing game. Being hated was part of the plan, and Ouma knew that. But it didn’t ease the sting in his chest when those dreaded words were uttered to him:

“You’re alone Ouma-kun, and you always will be.”

In all honesty, Ouma had expected the detective to be angry at him for his actions. He had expected him to lash out at him, detesting him for what he did to Gokuhara and Iruma. But he hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.

The words clawed at him from the inside, ripping apart his chest and ravaging the hole where his heart should have been. Everyone had hated Ouma, even the more passive ones in the group, and Ouma went into his plan knowing this would happen. So why did it hurt so much?

(Maybe because he had grown fond of the detective, even if it completely contradicts the premise of his plan.)

He had thrown out his heart long ago, discarding what he deemed unnecessary so that his plan could succeed. Emotions were unnecessary, and getting attached would only get in the way. After all, he couldn’t betray and manipulate his fellow classmates if he had grown attached to them, right?

But the ache in his chest said otherwise. Being the common enemy for the rest of the group to unite against came with certain consequences, namely isolation. Watching everyone smile and get along was all that Ouma had wanted; He wanted nothing more than for everyone to get along with one another and ultimately be happy. But of course, Ouma himself would be excluded from that happiness. Not that he minded, as sacrificing himself for the benefit of the group brought him a certain satisfaction, knowing that they could all be safe due to him.

The jarring truth behind it all was that Kokichi Ouma was selfless. Delving past all the layers of lies that he wrapped himself in, one would discover the incredibly altruistic and lonely boy’s true self. All he wanted to do was help everyone, even at the cost of his safety and well-being, and ultimately, if it came down to it, his life.

Ouma took the brunt of the group’s hatred for him: he was strangled multiple times by Harukawa, punched by Momota, who was considerably taller and stronger than him, and had the remnants of his poor little heart ripped out of his chest by his beloved Saihara.

He shouldered it all by himself: the group’s hatred, the guilt of killing Gokuhara and Iruma, and the burden of attempting to end the killing game single-handedly. Not a single soul knew of the soul-crushing burden he had placed upon himself as he smiled and pretended everything was fine.

Not even the detective, Shuichi Saihara.

Although he was not the most confident, Saihara had successfully solved every trial so far, exposing the blackened and their crimes. Simply put, Ouma had admired the ability of the detective to see through the lies and grasp the truth no matter how difficult it was.

But even Saihara had his limits.

Even he was unable to unravel the mystery that was Kokichi Ouma, completely oblivious to the supreme leader’s true intentions.

Ouma would be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped for the detective to see through his so delicately crafted lies, pulling him out of his web of lies and seeing his true, selfless self. Although his plan relied on fooling the others and convincing them he was evil, a treacherous part of his mind had secretly hoped that Saihara would see through him and recognize his true self.

In short, Ouma wanted to be saved.

Saved from this living hell he put himself through, saved from having to shoulder the deaths of everyone who came before him, saved from having to hide every single fucking true thought he had to himself, saved from-

Everything.

This elaborate facade he paraded around with.

This self-imposed isolation he had thrust upon himself.

And most importantly, this horrible killing game.

Ouma hated feeling weak. He absolutely hated the feeling of wanting someone to swoop in and be his knight in shining armor, but at the same time this personal hell he had created for himself was just too intolerable.

Not like any of it mattered. All that mattered was ending this killing game, even at the cost of his life.

Which is precisely why he was currently laying underneath the hydraulic press, mind racing and heart thumping.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to shove all these thoughts out of his head. “Attempted” being the key word here.

While the fact that the hydraulic press was merely inches away from his face made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else, there was one prevailing thought that pervaded his mind:

I’m never going to see Saihara-chan again…

I’ll never get to tell him how I feel about him.

I’m gonna die being hated by the only person who ever had a chance at understanding me.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

No…! This can’t be it! This can’t be the end!

I want to tell you…! I want to tell you how I feel!

I want to see you again!

I don’t… I don’t want to die!

…

And then, everything went black.

Chapter Text

It was warm.

Now that the cage surrounding the school was destroyed, the remaining students of the killing game were able to bask in the direct sunlight beaming down on them.

Shoving aside the rock fragments surrounding them, the trio climbed out from the spot in which Kiibo had hid them so that they could survive their supposed execution. Harukawa stood in awe, taking in the sight of the post-apocalyptic atmosphere, while Saihara helped Yumeno get to her feet.

Standing up alongside Harukawa, Saihara and Yumeno quickly realized why she was so transfixed on their surroundings. A bright patch of light was illuminating the entire school grounds, shining brightly on the remains of what once was the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles. There was a gaping hole in the cage that once confined them, now open so that escape was an option to the trio.

Thank you, Kiibo.

Saihara couldn’t help but feel sentimental, knowing that their fallen classmates had once lived on this campus as well. They had all met each other here, slept in the dorms here, and ate breakfast together in the dining hall every morning. Saihara had trained with Momota and Harukawa in this very courtyard, also occasionally having meaningful conversations under the moonlight.

Despite the atrocities and betrayals that occurred during the killing game, Saihara had always had those two to depend on when he needed someone to turn to. Although Momota was no longer with them, he still had Harukawa, as well as Yumeno, and the three of them would escape this dreadful place together.

In unison, they all took a step forward: away from the Ultimate Academy and away from the killing game, but not away from the memories of their cherished classmates and the sacrifices they made for them.

…

A step… forward?

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A w a y

F r o m

E v e r y t h i n g

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Saihara felt himself slowly drifting back into consciousness, but found himself unable to open his eyes. Thinking little of it, he tried to fall back asleep and continue whatever dream he was having…

Wait.

What was he dreaming about again?

That’s right… Harukawa, Yumeno and I were escaping from the killing game when… it happened.

The world started warping and twisting, swirling around into a dark and infinite nothingness. Reality itself seemed to freeze and morph into pitch black, almost as if the killing game itself was just a dream.

…

There’s no way right?

The killing game… was fake?

Saihara’s eyes shot open, only for him to discover that his vision was being blocked by an object. Removing said mysterious object from his face, he adjusted his vision to his surroundings.

What he saw was peculiar: he was laying in some sort of pod, a thick, light blue screen hovering just inches above his face, and the object that had once blocked off his vision appeared to be some sort of headset. Why this headset was once attached to his face was unknown, as well as what the hell he was doing just lying around in some mysterious pod.

With many questions swarming through his mind, Saihara placed his hands on the screen in front of him and pushed outwards, releasing himself from the pod’s confinement. He gingerly stepped out of the pod, observing his surroundings once more. There were numerous similarly structured pods arranged in a circle, and they all seemed to be open already, except for one. Upon counting the number of pods, Saihara concluded that there were fifteen in total.

Fifteen…? Does that mean… No, it can’t be true. There’s just no way that something like that is possible. Wouldn’t there be sixteen?

Saihara’s thought process was interrupted by the door to the room swinging open.

“Ah! Saihara-kun, you’re awake!”

A woman with blonde hair dressed in a nurse’s uniform walked in, carrying a pen and clipboard in one hand. Glancing down at the clipboard, she appeared to check something off before looking back up at Saihara.

“And that makes fourteen! Looks like almost everyone is awake now!” she smiled.

Saihara just stared at her, eyes wide and mind delirious with confusion.

“I know this must all be really confusing for you… I promise everything will make sense in just a bit. For now, why don’t we get you to your room? We’ll explain everything to you as quickly as possible so that you can see the others.” She gestured towards the door, motioning for Saihara to follow her.

“Ah… Okay…” Saihara replied, still not entirely sure what was going on.

He followed her out of the door and into the hallway, quickly realizing that he was in a hospital. Suddenly hyper-aware of his appearance, Saihara looked into a clear glass window that they passed by, observing his reflection in it. Noticing how disheveled his hair was, he promptly smoothed it down, not wanting to appear as disoriented as he felt. Before he even realized it, the nurse had stopped in front of a door to an open hospital room, motioning for him to walk in.

Doing as he was told, he walked into the empty room, observing how it looked like a standard hospital room. But why was he in a hospital in the first place?

“Why don’t you take a seat over there?” She gestured towards the open bed in the middle of the room, “We find it’s easier for patients to take the news while sitting down rather than while standing up, due to the, uh… nature of what we have to tell you.”

Saihara took a seat on the bed and looked at her expectantly. By now, he had pieced together what little information he had and had come to a conclusion, but, due to the low probability of that being the truth, he discarded that option as being the truth. Seeing as he didn’t have enough information to draw another conclusion, he simply waited for the truth to be told to him.

“So…” the nurse began, pulling over a nearby chair and sitting down, “I know this is going to be hard to hear, especially after all that you’ve been through… but the killing game was all just virtual reality. All of your classmates that you met are still alive and, although not everyone is awake yet, I’m sure they’re all eager to see you. Harukawa-san and Yumeno-san woke up earlier today, so I’m sure they’re expecting to see you.”

Shuichi just stared at her, processing the information he had just been told.

Everyone is still alive? So that means Momota and Akamatsu… no, everyone… is still alive?

“Oh, but if you don’t feel up to visiting them yet then that’s totally fine! Take as much time as you need to rest! We don’t want you compromising your health at all! Although, since you didn’t actually experience a death in the simulation, there isn’t much for you to recover from… Though I suppose recovering mentally may take a while.”

“No…! I want to see everyone!” Saihara’s voice had suddenly returned, startling even himself as his voice echoed in the hospital room. He tightly gripped the edge of the bed, not realizing how tense his body had become.

Rather than being surprised, the nurse just chuckled.

“I see you’re feeling well after all! But before you go visit everyone, let me just explain a few more things to you.”

The nurse then proceeded to tell Saihara a variety of things, including how Shirogane was just an artificial intelligence program, and how their pregame selves had been completely destroyed, along with their memories of anything before the killing game. She then left Saihara alone to process all of this information before going out to see anyone, who she informed him would probably be in the dining hall, as breakfast time was approaching.

So everyone really is still alive…

Logically, it made sense to him. When he had awoken, there were fifteen pods which, taking into consideration that Shirogane was an artificial intelligence program, accounted for all of the students. He had also noticed that there were fifteen hospital rooms during the walk to his room, further confirming his suspicions.

The truth is, from the moment he pulled that headset off and exited the pod, he knew that the killing game hadn’t truly happened. How else would that explain him suddenly waking up in a completely different place?

But he didn’t want to believe it.

There’s no doubt that he wanted his fellow classmates to be alive; In fact, there was nothing he wanted more than for everyone to be alive and well. But had every death he had experienced seeing really been fake? Saihara just thought it was too good to be true.

Apparently, though, it was true. And now Saihara had to confront that truth.

Collecting himself and his thoughts, Saihara pushed himself off the bed and exited the room.

“Mmm! These pancakes are so good, Tojo-san!” Akamatsu praised through a mouthful of pancakes, earning her an amused look from Amami.

“You got a little something there, babe.” Amami smiled, wiping off a bit of syrup from Akamatsu’s upper lip with his finger.

Akamatsu giggled as she and Amami gazed lovingly at one another, the honeymoon phase of their blossoming relationship still going strong.

“Get a room you two! I can’t stand seeing a degenerate male being all lovey-dovey towards a female like that!” Chabashira announced, crossing her arms with disgust.

“And what about you and your girlfriend?” Amami asked jokingly.

Chabashira gasped dramatically before continuing:

“Leave Yumeno-san out of this you degenerate!” she cried, pointing at Amami accusingly.

“Nyeh… Leave me out of your petty arguments…” Yumeno adjusted her hat, avoiding eye contact with the other couple.

Just as Chabashira was preparing a threat for Amami, the doors to the dining hall slowly opened, indicating that whoever was coming in was trying not to cause a disturbance.

The dining hall fell silent, everyone staring at the now opened doorway. Everyone who was awake had gathered in the dining hall, leaving limited options as to who the new person coming in could be.

Feeling the numerous pairs of eyes on him, Saihara gently cleared his throat and shifted his eyes towards the ground. Before he even had a chance to speak, he was surrounded by his classmates, who were all clamoring with excitement.

“Saihara-kun!” Akamatsu was the first to greet him, throwing her arms around him in a warm embrace. “You’re awake! Finally!” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, blissfully unaware that she had begun crying.

“Shuichi! Nice seeing you again, bro!” Momota’s familiar voice boomed throughout the dining hall, making his presence known to Saihara.

Saihara smiled warmly at the growing crowd around him, his eyes flitting to and fro between the many occupants of the room surrounding him. He was a bit overwhelmed at seeing all the people who he had previously thought were dead perfectly alive and well, but the joy swelling in his chest overpowered those feelings.

“Y-Yeah… Good to see you again!” He looked up at Momota, smiling at him confidently.

“Everyone, let’s give Saihara-kun some space.” Tojo spoke up, “We don’t want him to get too overwhelmed.”

Following Tojo’s orders, everyone in the group took a few steps back, giving Saihara some room to breathe. Akamatsu let go of Saihara and took a step back, standing face to face with him. She gripped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Welcome back! I’m- I’m so proud of you! You…” She stopped momentarily to wipe her tears with her sleeve. “You did it! You ended the killing game! You’re amazing, Saihara-kun!”

Before he could even realize it, Saihara himself was crying as well, wet tears streaming down his face.

“I-I’m sorry…” He sniffled, hiding his face in his hands, letting go of Akamatsu’s hand in the proces. “I’m just so happy to see you all…”

“Don’t be sorry, bro!” Momota slung his arm around Saihara’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

Saihara continued to cry into his chest, accepting the comfort that his best friend offered him.

“Come on, Shuichi! Don’t be so down! Come eat breakfast with the rest of us, just like the good old times!” Momota gave him his signature thumbs up, encouraging just like he did during the killing game.

“Sure… Thank you, Momota-kun.” Saihara wiped the tears off his face and joined the rest of the group back at the table, sitting in between Akamatsu and Momota.

Saihara spent the morning getting to reconnect with his classmates, simply enjoying spending time with them. Finding out everyone was actually alive was probably the best thing to ever happen to him, but that doesn’t mean they had completely recovered just yet. They were still to meet with a private therapist, as well as to attend group therapy twice a week in order to work on their mental state.

Things could’ve been a lot worse, however. Saihara had expected there to be tension amongst those in the room, students holding grudges against one another for the atrocious actions they had committed while in the game. While, according to Akamatsu, things had been pretty rough at first, by now everyone had forgiven each other for what happened in-game. The thought of his classmates getting into arguments over what transpired in-game made Saihara’s heart ache, but there was nothing he could do about it now that it was in the past. All that he could do was be grateful for the peace that had now graced them.

Seeing everyone smile and laugh together at breakfast put all of his worries to the back of his head, relieving him of the previous stress of the killing game. Now that everyone was together again, things would certainly be getting better from here on out. Saihara smiled to himself as he enjoyed his breakfast and the delightful chatter of his fellow classmates.

He didn’t even notice that Ouma was missing.

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since Saihara, Harukawa and Yumeno woke up from the simulation.

The trio had reconnected with their former classmates, making a nearly flawless transition from the simulation back to reality. This was in part due to them not experiencing death in the simulation, since the other participants had to deal with the fact that they weren’t actually dead despite believing that they were. Nonetheless, the trio was welcomed with open arms by the other participants, being congratulated for ending the killing game for good. So far, their recovery was going extremely well.

The same, however, could not be said for Ouma.

Unbeknownst to the other participants of the killing game, Ouma had woken up about a week ago. This in and of itself was a spectacular feat; The nurses had not expected him to wake up at all, let alone make a full physical recovery. Yet here he was, bouncing up and down on his hospital bed with the same joyful expression that he wore during the killing game, as if he had experienced no trauma at all.

When he first awoke, he was just about as dazed and confused as the other participants had been, and nearly fell to the ground after exiting his pod. Had a nurse not been there to immediately escort him to his room, he may have collapsed right there. The physical trauma he had experienced during his “death” had taken a toll on his body, leaving him feeling aches and pains through his whole body.

It was a miracle he could even walk, albeit barely, said the nurses.

Ouma hated being pitied, looked down upon like he was some poor little thing that needed to be taken care of. However, in this situation he had little choice, the searing pain coursing through his body going straight to his head and clouding his judgement. Thus, he allowed the nurse to help him walk to his room.

Once there, he was briefed on how Saihara and the others had ended the killing game, how Kiibo had destroyed the school and how Shirogane was the mastermind as well as just an artificial intelligence program. Normally, he would have watched these events transpire along with the rest of the participants that had awoken, but due to his traumatic death, he was still unconscious while this occurred.

Ouma had taken the news surprisingly well. He was calm throughout the whole explanation, receiving all the information given to him with a blank expression on his face. The nurses then left him alone to process the information, and advised him to go to the dining hall to see the others. Ouma, however, had refused to do so, demanding that all his meals be brought to him. Due to Ouma’s poor physical condition, the nurses begrudgingly accepted, bringing him three meals a day.

Despite the nurses bringing him food every day, Ouma barely ate. Whether it was just a natural habit to eat very little, resulting in his small stature, or if he was feeling down was unknown to the nurses. Sometimes a nurse would accompany him for a meal to keep him company, during which Ouma would claim he was fine and enjoy his meal normally. But when the nurses weren’t there, he hardly ate, dropping the gleeful facade he held even around them.

Not once had Ouma left his room since waking up. His room, like all the others, was equipped with a bathroom, and his meals were brought to him, so he had no reason to leave. The nurses just assumed he was feeling ill and didn’t want to move around too much, but after a week had passed, they started getting suspicious.

No one had asked about Ouma, and the nurses hadn’t informed the others that he was awake, so he had no visitors. He barely ate, and only left his bed to use the bathroom and to shower. Despite spending so much time in bed, there were bags under his eyes, and his face was drained of color. The nurses were genuinely concerned for his well-being, and collectively made the decision to tell the others that Ouma was awake, hoping that someone would come talk to him.

The hospital they were in was designed and owned specifically by Team Danganronpa, so it was equipped with a variety of facilities for the participants until they got back on their feet. That included a recreation room, along with the dining hall and hospital rooms.

The recreation room was spacious, big enough to hold all of the participants of one killing game. There was a TV so that they could connect with the outside world, a foosball table, several towering bookshelves and a plethora of chairs and couches, even including bean bag chairs.

Chabashira and Yumeno were huddled underneath a blanket on the couch, watching a sitcom with starry eyes. It seemed to be an activity that the couple could enjoy together, although the rest of the group found the sitcom to be cheesy and overrated. Shinguji was reading some book about anthropology, never ceasing his studies, while Yonaga seemed to be painting. Saihara was reading a novel, presumably a mystery novel, while Harukawa sat by his side in silence.

Momota plopped down on a bean bag chain between Saihara and Harukawa, making an overly dramatic display of sitting down with a loud sigh. Saihara and Harukawa exchanged an amused glance at this.

Having received no attention from the other two, Momota sighed again, this time crossing his arms with a prominent pout on his face.

“Ah, is something wrong, Momota-kun?” Saihara spoke up, setting his novel aside.

“Of course something is wrong!” Momota complained loudly, voice booming throughout the recreation room. “No one wants to play football with me!”

“Oh, do you mean foosball?” Saihara glanced at the foosball table across the room, “I could play with you if you’d like-”

“I’m not talkin’ about foosball!” Momota smashed his fists together, frowning more deeply. “I mean football! Amami and I found a football in here earlier, but he said it was too cold to go outside and toss it around!”

“Of course no one wants to play football with you,” Harukawa sighed, “It’s the middle of February.”

“Who cares about that?!” Momota shouted, growing more and more frustrated, “A real man doesn’t care about the cold!”

Harukawa just shook her head, “You’ll catch a cold if you go out in this weather, you idiot.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t mind playing with you when the weather gets nicer…” Saihara attempted to console the sulking boy next to him.

The trio’s conversation was interrupted by a nurse walking into the recreation room. She cleared her throat before speaking in order to get everyone’s attention.

“Ahem… Um, I know not everyone is here, but I have an announcement to make.”

Shinguji and Yonaga looked up from their respective activities to direct their attention towards the nurse, as well as Chabashira, Yumeno and the trio sitting in the corner.

“Ouma-kun has been awake for some time now, but refuses to leave his room…” the nurse began. “I just thought everyone here would like to know, since you can’t be released until everyone is feeling better.”

It was quiet for a few moments before Harukawa spoke up, narrowing her eyes at the nurse.

“...You’re telling me he’s been awake this whole time, but just refuses to leave his room and come face the rest of us?”

“Well, not this whole time. Only for about a week or so,” the nurse responded, avoiding Harukawa’s piercing gaze.

Harukawa crossed her arms and sat back in her chair with a huff. “...Hmph. I was hoping that piece of shit would never wake up.”

The tension in the room was so palpable that it could be cut with a knife.

“Don’t say that, Maki Roll. You know he hated the killing game as much as the rest of us.” Kaito reasoned.

“That doesn’t excuse his actions… He got you killed, you know!” Harukawa was seething with anger, nails digging into her palms as she held her fists tight.

“...I know. But… it isn’t fair to judge him for what he did in the simulation. We all did some pretty horrible things in there…” Momota trailed off before continuing. “And what matters most is that we’re all alive now! So there’s no need to worry about what happened in the killing game!”

“What about what he’s doing to us right now? By keeping himself in his room this whole time he’s been delaying our release.” She clenched her fist, a look of pure fury on her face. “I bet he’s doing it on purpose just to screw with us!”

“Everyone, please calm down!” the nurse interjected. “Ouma-kun still hasn’t fully recovered yet, so I’m sure he isn’t trying to harm you guys… Please give him some time to feel better before making such harsh judgements.”

Harukawa glared at the nurse, all of her hatred being redirected towards her.

“...We understand. Thank you for informing us of Ouma-kun’s awakening.” Shinguji spoke, aiming to dismiss the tension in the room.

The nurse simply nodded before bowing and exiting the room.

It was silent for a few moments before anyone spoke, the tension in the room hanging over everyone’s heads. Eventually, everyone went back to their respective activities, the trio just sitting in silence.

Saihara held his chin in his hand, gazing directed away from the other two.

“...I forgot about Ouma-kun.”

Momota just awkwardly scratched at the back of his head, as if to say “I wish I could say the same.”

“We’re better off without that asshole anyway. I hope he never fully recovers.” Harukawa spat, venom laced in every word she spoke.

Momota had an uncharacteristically serious look on his face, staring pensively at the ground.

“Momota-kun? What’s wrong?” Saihara asked.

“...Nothin’. It’s just…” Momota sighed before continuing, linking his hands behind his head. “I wonder if Ouma really meant what he said in the hangar. Y’know, about wanting to end the killing game and stuff.”

“Hmm… I guess there’s no way to know for sure. Unless-”

“I got it!” Momota sprung up from his seat with a newfound determination. “I’ll just have to talk to him myself!”

“Ah, I’m not sure if you should go talk to him yet.” Saihara countered, “We should probably let him rest for now. At least for another day or two.”

“...I guess you’re right.” Momota said dejectedly, sitting back down.

Throughout the whole exchange, Harukawa had remained silent. When she finally spoke up, it startled both of the other two.

“If we keep talking about that piece of shit then I’m leaving.” she said curtly.

“Don’t be so down, Maki Roll! Come on, let’s go play some football!” Momota offered with newfound vigor in his words.

“...You already know my answer.” Harukawa shook her head.

Momota chuckled heartily, while Saihara just smiled at the couple’s antics.

Ouma-kun…I wonder what the truth about you really is…

Saihara’s thoughts were interrupted by a strong hand on his shoulder.

“You coming with us or what, bro?” Momota asked.

“H-Huh? Sorry, where are we going?” Saihara stuttered, still a bit dazed from being so deep in thought.

“To the dining hall! I’m starving!”

Saihara smiled and stood up, walking to the dining hall with the other two. Whatever the truth about Ouma was, it would have to wait until he decided to leave his room. For now, Saihara was content to spend time with his two best friends.

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since the nurse informed Saihara and the others that Ouma was awake, yet he still remained unseen by the others. Holed up in his room, purposefully avoiding the others, Ouma was doing less than well. He barely ate, hardly slept, and had no social interaction besides minor occurrences with the nurses.

Time passed incredibly slowly. Ouma had tried keeping a journal to prevent himself from going insane, but quickly discarded the idea after being paranoid that someone would eventually read it. There was a TV in his room, which was his main excuse as to why he was always in his room whenever the nurses asked, but in reality it did little to keep him occupied. He would stare at the TV for hours, imagining himself in the killing game, thinking about what he could’ve done better in order to make his plan work.

Ouma’s plan had failed, and he only had himself to blame.

Not Momota, for revealing himself in the Exisal.

Not Harukawa, for starting the killing game when it should’ve ended.

And not the mastermind, for instigating Harukawa’s actions via a flashback light.

If only he had lied more… No, lied less. Not lied at all?

Every single variation on what could’ve happened was jumbled in Ouma’s brain, swirling around in a hazy fog, clouding his mind’s focus and distracting him from the present.

Why did he even care so much about the killing game? It was all virtual reality, so who cares if his plan had failed?

…

Ouma just felt useless. He gave his life for a plan that didn’t even work, only to find out that even if it did work it would have all been for naught, as the killing game was just fabricated.

He knew that it was pointless to think about what he could have done. He knew that, yet he continued to think about it. Intrusive thoughts permeated every crevice of his mind, taking control of his voluntary thoughts and forcing him to obsess over what he could’ve done better.

Maybe he was selfish, craving recognition for having successfully saved everyone. If his plan had worked and succeeded in exposing the corruptness of the killing game, he could emerge from his pod with a smile on his face, being greeted with open arms and smiles from the rest of the group for ending the killing game. There would be no need to isolate himself from everyone, hiding himself away in his room, and he wouldn’t feel the crushing burden of guilt in his chest for lying to everyone.

If his plan had worked, his lies would be forgiven and the evil reputation he had built for himself would be expunged. But his plan hadn’t worked. It failed. And now he had to deal with the consequences.

Setting Ouma’s twisted thinking aside, the reality of the situation was quite different. The others didn’t care that his plan had failed, they only cared that he tried. After all, Akamatsu had tried to kill the mastermind and failed, yet everyone still forgave her. They felt the same about Ouma, acknowledging his efforts to end the killing game even though his efforts were unsuccessful.

The only difference in Ouma’s case was the fact that he committed multiple atrocities during the killing game: his constant lies, falsely claiming to be the mastermind, and, above all else, causing the deaths of Gokuhara and Iruma. But everyone had committed malicious acts during the killing game, such as murdering someone in cold blood simply for personal gain.

In actuality, even Gokuhara and Iruma had forgiven Ouma. The only person who hadn’t forgiven him was himself.

This had held him back immensely, distorting his thoughts into thinking that everyone else had yet to forgive him. Naturally, when backed into the corner of now having to live up to his actions, Ouma did the only thing he knew how to do: he lied, lied, and lied some more, trying to lie his way out of the situation at hand.

Ouma knew that his time was running out. He couldn’t run forever, and would have to go see the others eventually. That is, if the others were even truly alive. The nurses could have been lying about that, after all. Ouma truly trusted no one.

He had mulled over his options in his head for a while: he could wait it out in his room until one of the nurses forced him out, or he could take the initiative and go see the others himself. Having someone visit him wasn’t even an option; Ouma knew that no one would ever come see him in his room.

Sighing to himself audibly, he pushed himself off the bed, knees wobbly from laying down for so long. It was now or never, he supposed. He exited the room and made his way to the dining hall.

Once he arrived at the entrance of the dining hall, Ouma lingered outside for a bit, listening to everyone’s voices. He could make out what was most definitely Momota talking to his “sidekicks” about what was most likely some nerdy space thing, as well as Tojo announcing what she had prepared for everyone to eat. Bracing himself for the worst, Ouma steeled himself and pushed the doors to the dining hall open.

As soon as he opened the doors the dining hall went dead silent, all eyes landing on his pale and sickly form. Ouma paid no mind to their staring, instead proudly announcing his presence to the group, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

“Ta-daaa! I, Kokichi Ouma, have arrived in the dining hall of this sad little hospital! Bow down to me, or face the wrath of one thousand suns!”

His announcement was met with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Momota seemed bewildered, dropping his fork onto his plate with a loud clank, while Harukawa’s piercing glare was immediately upon him. No one spoke, thus prompting Ouma to continue:

“Man, you guys look like you’ve seen a ghost or something! Well I guess that’s not too inaccurate, what with me being totally dead and all!” Ouma announced cheerfully.

“Holy shit, dude…” Iruma began, “You look like shit! When was the last time you ate somethin’?”

Ouma’s smirk only grew at these words. Of course it was Iruma who chose to speak up first. Ironic.

“Well if it isn’t my dear Iruma-chan! The last time I saw you was when Gonta strangled you on the rooftop of the virtual world! Hey, how did that feel by the way? Did it feel as disgusting as you look, you filthy slut?” Ouma chirped, raising his arms behind his head.

“Umm… Gonta no think we should talk about the killing game…”

“Puh-lease! Are you telling me to just ignore everything that happened in the game?” Ouma brought a finger to his lips, then pointed the accusing digit at Gokuhara. “No one tells the great Kokichi Ouma what to do!”

“Cut the crap, Ouma!” Momota interjected, standing up from his seat fiercely. “We all know you hated that stupid game just as much as the rest of us, so cut it out!”

“Oh? Is that so?” Ouma tilted his head innocently. “You mean you really believed all that crap I said to you in that Exisal hangar? How pathetic! Guess the great old ‘Luminary of the Stars’ is as stupid as ever!”

“Do you want to die?” Harukawa stated flatly. “If so, I have no problem taking you out right now.”

“Take me out, hm? Sorry Maki Roll, you aren’t really my type... “ He examined his nails, as if they were more interesting than the conversation at hand. “I’m gonna have to pass on that one!”

“Don’t…” Harukawa muttered, eyes downcast.

“Don’t what, Maki Roll?”

Harukawa’s gaze returned, pure wrath emanating from her entire body. “Don’t fucking call me that!!”

In a flash, Harukawa had leapt out of her seat and sprinted up to Ouma, a kitchen knife in her hand. Now that the killing game was over, she could kill someone without being executed for it if she got caught. Within seconds, she had Ouma pinned against the well, a knife to his throat. Harukawa applied ample pressure to the knife, making marks in the tender flesh of his neck.

“Well… this is… Gh!” Hearing Ouma try to speak led Harukawa to apply even more pressure to the knife, adding to the burning sensation he felt on his throat.

Several gasps could be heard across the dining hall, as well as the movement of chairs and shuffling of footsteps towards Harukawa and Ouma.

“Maki Roll, don’t!!” Momota shouted, “We all promised to get along! You can’t do this!”

“Watch me.” The first prickles of blood appeared beneath the knife, dotting the pale skin of Ouma’s throat.

Ouma didn’t dare to speak, lest Harukawa try to slit his throat wide open.

“Stop it, Harukawa-san!” Akamatsu cried.

A few gasps for air and choked sobs escaped Ouma’s lips before she finally let him go, his body collapsing in a heap on the ground along with the knife.

Momota immediately ran up to Harukawa to hold her back, preventing her from doing anything else. Akamatsu and Saihara went up to Ouma, helping him back to his feet. The rest of the group watched from a distance, too afraid to approach the scene.

“Calm down, Maki Roll!” Momota held on tightly to her, not letting her go. “Just leave him be!”

“I can’t! He just walks in here, provoking all of us like that after not showing up for over a week… He deserves it!!” Harukawa wasn’t struggling much, indicating that she had at least calmed down a little bit, although she was still quite furious.

“I know, but… Just let me talk to him, okay? I know what he said in the hangar had to have been the truth… I’m gonna talk to him later and try to get the truth out of him.” Momota reassured her.

Saihara and Akamatsu were at Ouma’s side, attempting to help him stand back up. He was already weak enough as it is, and having a knife to his throat didn’t help. His vision was blurred and fuzzy, and he barely recognized the other two at his side. It was strange, having people by his side to help him up after being so alone in the killing game, but he wasn’t in any position to reject their help. He accepted their outstretched hands, begrudgingly.

“Ouma-kun, are you okay?” Saihara asked, lifting him up along with Akamatsu.

“Nn… I-I think so?” Ouma had one hand clamped around his throat, his other arm going limp at his side.

“Here, move your hand. Let me see your throat.” Akamatsu suggested, gently placing her hand on Ouma’s. He removed his hand from his throat to reveal a small amount of blood and a minor cut. Nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own.

“...’M fine…” Ouma drawled, pushing them away. “I’m gonna go back to my room…”

“Wait! At least let us-” Saihara was cut off by a wave of Ouma’s hand as he staggered out of the dining hall by himself, one hand against the wall for balance.

Unbeknownst to the others, Ouma had slid the knife underneath his shirt, taking it with him back to his room.

Ouma shut the door behind him, flopping down on the hospital bed. He immediately broke down crying, grasping onto the blankets of the bed tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Why couldn’t he just act normal? Why couldn't he just walk in there and apologize for his actions? Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Everyone was so happy without him, too. No one even came to visit him to see how he was. They didn’t want to, and they never would. They were all perfectly content living their lives without him.

Ouma was used to this kind of isolation during the killing game, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. During the killing game he cast aside his personal feelings for the sake of the group, enduring all kinds of pain in order to see everyone else smile in the end. If they were happy, he was happy. But being selfless had its limits.

Ouma felt selfish for wanting to be included with everyone. Laughing and smiling with everyone, talking about what they were going to do after they were released from this place; He just wanted the same feeling of happiness that they all had. And he felt incredibly selfish for having such desires.

He sighed into his pillow then flipped himself over, staring at the ceiling. Remembering that he had taken the knife with him, he slipped it out from under his clothes and held it in his hand.

Selfish.

You’re so fucking selfish for wanting to be happy with everyone else.

Ouma sat up straight, still grasping the knife tightly in his hand.

If only you had really died during the killing game.

No one even wants you here.

You would be better off dead.

He brought the knife up to his throat, wet and sorrowful tears streaming down his face.

Better hurry up and finish what Harukawa-chan started.

Closing his eyes, he prepared to slit his own throat.

Chapter Text

“Ouma-kun, how are you feel- Ouma-kun?!”

A nurse had walked in to check on Ouma after hearing about the incident in the dining hall, only to be met with a horrifying sight: Ouma had a knife to his throat of his own will, and tears were streaming down his face while his whole body was shaking.

Upon hearing the nurse speak, Ouma opened his eyes to look at her with big, fearful eyes. He instinctively lowered the knife to make it look like he wasn’t just about to slit his own throat, but it was too late: The nurse had already rushed over to his side, reaching to confiscate the knife. She grabbed it from his shaking hand with ease, despite Ouma’s cries and protests.

”No! What are you doing?! Give it back!!” He reached to grab the knife back from the nurse, but she held it out of his reach.

“Please calm down, Ouma-kun!” The nurse pulled out a handheld device and pressed a button on it, alerting the other staff of what was going on. Immediately, a siren started blaring from somewhere in the room and red lights began flashing. While it seems far-fetched, having patients in the Team Danganronpa hospital try to kill themselves was awfully common, so they implemented these security measures so that all the nurses could identify the room where the problem was and quickly meet there.

Within seconds, about half a dozen other nurses arrived in Ouma’s room, prepared to deal with the crisis.

”No! You can’t do this! You don’t understand! Why can’t you just let me die already?!” Ouma leapt out of his bed to try and grab the knife from the nurse from a shorter distance, but was immediately held back by two other nurses. Being considerably stronger than his sickly form, they lifted him up off the ground.

”Let me fucking go!” Ouma sobbed, kicking and thrashing about in their hold. ”Just let me fucking kill myself already!”

“We need a sedative!” One of the nurses holding him called.

“I’ve got one!” Another nurse responded, walking up to Ouma and the other two nurses with a sedative in hand.

”Don’t you fucking dare!” He screamed, panicking once he saw the needle. ”Let me fucking go!” His sobs returned in full force, wet tears falling down his cheeks. “Please… Just let me die…”

“We need a stretcher!” A nurse shouted as she injected Ouma with the sedative. After a few more seconds of struggling he relaxed, going limp in the arms of the nurses that held him.

“On it!” Another nurse shouted, exiting the room to go get a stretcher for Ouma.

Opening the door, the nurse exited Ouma’s room, running into none other than…

“Momota-kun!” the nurse was a bit surprised to see him, as she assumed everyone was still gathered in the dining hall.

“Uh, hi…” he said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. He averted his gaze. “What’s going on in there? I came to check on Ouma, but then I saw a bunch of nurses heading in there and I heard him screaming, so…”

“Ouma-kun was about to slit his own throat with a knife when one of the nurses walked in and alerted the rest of us. We had to sedate him, and I’m on my way to get a stretcher so we can bring him to the emergency room.”

“Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting you! Just, uh… Take good care of him, okay?” Momota replied.

The nurse nodded in response and headed to get a stretcher for Ouma.

When Ouma awoke, he found himself in a room that he was completely unfamiliar with. At first, he assumed he was in his own hospital room, but then he remembered what happened. His memories were fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered being carried here on a stretcher after being injected with a sedative in his previous hospital room. Now, he had no idea where he was.

“Ah, Ouma-kun, you’re awake!” A nurse with a clipboard said cheerfully as she entered the room.

“Where am I?” he looked around once more for good measure, but he had concluded that this definitely wasn’t his previous hospital room.

“You’re in the emergency room. You gave us all quite a scare with that stunt you tried to pull before!” the nurse was unusually upbeat, most likely because she wanted to put Ouma at ease. But instead, it had the opposite effect, making him feel on edge at her out of place attitude.

She pulled over a chair and sat next to the bed that Ouma was situated in. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to ask you a few questions, okay?”

Ouma nodded.

“Do you know why you’re in the emergency room?” she asked.

“No shit.” he replied curtly.

The nurse continued without missing a beat after writing something down on the paper on her clipboard. “What did you do to end up in the emergency room?”

Ouma rolled his eyes. Both him and the nurse knew why he was in here. Was it really necessary to ask him that?

“Like you don’t already know.” he spat.

“Ouma-kun, please… it’s just protocol.” the nurse said with a sad smile on her face.

Ouma sighed. “...I tried to kill myself.”

The nurse continued writing on her clipboard before continuing to ask him a series of repetitive questions about why he tried to kill himself. Ouma found himself rolling his eyes at every question the nurse asked, not seeing the point in asking him things that both of them already knew.

“Alright, that’s it! The therapist will be coming in shortly to talk to you about what happened. Try and relax until then, okay?” the nurse reassured him before exiting the room.

Once he was alone, Ouma found himself recollecting the events that led him here. He clearly recalled Harukawa threatening him in the dining hall, as well as bringing the knife back to his room with him. His memories after that point were fuzzy, but he still remembered crying as he brought the knife to his throat and then kicking and screaming as he was sedated by the nurses. After that, he woke up in the emergency room, leading him to where he was now.

Looking around the room, he noticed that there weren’t any windows, eliminating the possibility of him jumping out of one and ending his life that way. His grip on the blankets of the hospital bed tightened. Why couldn’t he just die already? It’s not like anyone wanted him here anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door and then entering the room.

“Good afternoon, Ouma-kun.” Another lady with a clipboard greeted him. At this point, there was no telling any of them apart. “From this point forward, I will be your personal therapist provided by Team Danganronpa.” Ugh, just hearing the word “Danganronpa” made his stomach lurch. This therapist probably didn’t give two shits about him anyway. Not like he even needed a therapist, Ouma thought; He was perfectly capable of handling his problems by himself.

And if being perfectly capable of handling his problems meant trying to slit his own throat, then Ouma was 100% correct. However, Ouma was much more transparent than he wanted to be in this regard; The nurses, as well as his former “classmates”, knew that he needed help. After all, they all needed help coping after experiencing the killing game. But Ouma was the only one in still denial, insisting on handling everything by himself.

He didn’t bother to greet the therapist, opting to just sit there ruminating in his own thoughts.

“Do you know why I’m here to talk to you?”

Oh my god not this bullshit again. Ouma rolled his eyes into another dimension.

The therapist just chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not only here because of the suicide incident. All participants of Danganronpa are required to see a personal therapist, so I would’ve had to talk to you eventually anyway.” The therapist paused for a second before continuing at the lack of a response from Ouma. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Peachy.”

“Why don’t we talk about what happened today?

“...”

“Harukawa-san threatened you in the dining hall, correct? How did that make you feel?”

“Shitty.”

“And why is that?”

“...Huh?”

“For example, many patients who attempt suicide after participating in Danganronpa do so because they feel unwanted by their peers after the actions they took in-game. Do you think that applies to you?”

Ouma just glared at her. How dare she attempt to read him as if he were an open book!

The therapist sighed before writing something down on her clipboard.

“Well, Ouma-kun?”

He had to bite down on his tongue to prevent himself from lashing out at her.

“...Sure. If that’s how you want to explain it then go ahead.”

“Ouma-kun.” she set aside her clipboard to gaze intently into his eyes. “I understand that this is difficult for you, especially after all the walls that you built around yourself during the killing game. But you have to understand that-”

“I don’t have to understand shit!” he shouted, slamming his fists on the bed.

“Ouma-kun… if you continue to be uncooperative, you won’t gain anything out of these therapy sessions. Don’t you want to feel better about yourself and get along with your classmates?”

Ouma turned himself around in his bed, facing the other direction.

“...I’ll leave you alone for now, I suppose.” The therapist picked up her clipboard and exited the room.

When he was sure he was alone, Ouma began to cry to himself. Damn that stupid therapist for thinking she can get a read on him! No one was supposed to be able to do that, not even the Ultimate Detective himself! Well, the former Ultimate Detective, because apparently not even their talents were real.

Ouma wanted nothing more than to rid this world of himself. The only other alternative to that would be to exit this hospital and never see any of his former classmates again, but since all of his memories were fabricated by Team Danganronpa, he had no real family or friends to turn to. Thus, the only viable solution to his suffering was to kill himself.

You’re just a fucking failure. Look at you, you couldn’t even succeed in fucking killing yourself. How pathetic. No wonder your plan in the killing game failed.

Pulling the covers of the blanket over his head, Ouma closed his eyes and cried, trying to will himself to go to sleep.

“Please! Even if it’s only for a few minutes, just let me talk to him!”

“I understand why you’re concerned, Momota-kun…” the nurse replied. “But I think it’s better for Ouma-kun to rest for now.”

The nurse turned to walk away, but Momota impulsively grabbed onto her arm to stop her.

“You don’t understand! Ouma, he…” Momota averted his gaze, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I’m the only one who can get through to him. I talked to him in the hangar without that mask of his on, I’m the only one who he can have a serious conversation with. Just please let me talk to him.”

“Fine, just… be careful with him.” The nurse said begrudgingly. “He’s highly unstable and hasn’t been responding to therapy very well, so who knows if he’ll open up to you…”

“Don’t worry about it! Leave it to Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!” he pounded his fists together, flashing his signature determined smile.

The nurse smiled at him. “Good luck, Momota-kun!”

Momota made his way to the emergency room that he was told Ouma was in and knocked on the door.

Ouma was mid-nap when he heard a knock on the door, waking him from his slumber. He sat up and sighed to himself, not wanting to have to talk to a nurse or his therapist again. When the knocking didn’t cease, he pushed himself off the bed and answered the door himself.

“...Momota-chan?”

Chapter Text

Ouma stared at the former astronaut standing in front of him, his mouth agape. What was Momota of all people doing at his door? And how did he even know to come to the emergency room?

“Hey.” Momota averted his gaze, one hand placed at the nape of his neck while the other rested awkwardly on the door. “Mind if I come in?”

Betraying a feeling of seriousness, his eyes drifted upwards to meet Ouma’s. Normally Momota would’ve darted his eyes away by now, but he held on firmly, searching for any hint of emotion on the other boy’s face. Ouma rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, heading back to his bed.

“Sure. Whatever.”

Ouma paused for a moment before continuing to his bed.

“As long as you promise not to kill me again.” He smirked, collapsing onto the bed. Ouma could only imagine the grimace on Momota’s face.

As much as he wanted to shoo him away, Ouma knew that there was no changing Momota’s mind when he was set on something, his stubbornness rivaling even his own. Fatigue dominating his brain, he reluctantly let the other boy enter the room. He promptly smothered his face into the pillow, trying to forget that Momota was even there or that this conversation was even happening.

Ouma knew where this was going; Momota was so easy to read and straightforward that such an encounter was to be expected. What Ouma didn’t expect, however, was for Momota to confront him in the emergency room, where he was supposed to be hidden away from the others. After momentarily being taken aback, Ouma composed himself and prepared himself for the unavoidable.

A brief silence flickered between them, save for the noise of Momota pulling over and seating himself in a chair besides Ouma’s bed.

“I’m sorry about what happened in the dining hall the other day. Maki Roll, she…” Another pause. “None of us thought that you would end up in here.”

Ouma shifted in his bed, laying on his side facing away from Momota.

Momota sighed at the lack of a response.

“Look, man. I know you don’t wanna talk about this kinda stuff with me, but…”

Propping himself up on one elbow, Ouma turned to partially face Momota.

“But what?”

While Momota seemed to be searching for the right words, Ouma took the time to analyze Momota’s facial expression and body language. He was seated in the chair with both legs apart, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. Momota’s eyes were glued onto his hands, his expression pensive.

“I heard you screaming at the nurses the other day. That’s when one ‘em came out of your room and told me what was going on. I just...” He tapped his fingers together, his body itching for relief from the awkward feeling in the room. “I just can’t relax, knowin’ that you’re suffering cuz of the rest of us.”

“So you’re here because you pity me?” Ouma deadpanned. “Because you feel bad for the odd man out?” Ouma sat up, turning his body fully towards Momota. “Because you feel guilty for killing me?”

Bullseye.

Momota’s fierce gaze had returned, boring into Ouma’s soul, seeping into his skin and mixing into his veins. Seeing Momota so utterly furious at him ignited something within Ouma, an impish desire to taunt the other boy that he just couldn’t resist festering within him.

“I’m bein’ serious, Ouma!” Momota ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “You can’t just fucking kill yourself! This is the real world! You’ll be gone forever if you do something like that!”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point, ya know?” Ouma chirped, elongating his words. “But don’t get me wrong, Momota-chan!” He brought a finger to his lips, smiling deviously. “You don’t really give two shits about me. You’re only here to help yourself get over the guilt of killing me during the simulation. How selfish.”

“You little-” Momota cut himself off with another sigh. “Listen. I just wanted to check up on you after seeing what happened. I know you don’t want to hear this from me but we would be seriously upset if something happened to you.”

Ouma snorted. “Oh, suuuure! Everyone cares if Gonta and Iruma-chan’s murderer decides to off himself. Man, I’m sure Harukawa-chan and the others would be just devastated!” He snickered to himself before continuing. “Just be honest with yourself, Momota-chan… If I were to kill myself you would feel guilty, and you can’t take living with that kind of blame. Not after what you did to me during the killing game.”

Momota just shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

“Whaaaat? So you wouldn’t feel guilty if I killed myself? Geez, you’re way more heartless than I-”

“I’m not talking about that!” Momota pounded his fists on his knees, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. “I mean that you’re wrong about thinking of yourself as the villain! You were just as scared as the rest of us! All you were trying to do was end the killing game!”

Ouma clicked his tongue and smirked. “Silly Momota-chan… Don’t tell me you actually believe what I said to you in the hangar!” He giggled and looked up, expecting to see a Momota seething with anger and about to walk out the door. Instead, what he got was a pitiful expression, and god did he hate having that sympathetic look directed towards him.

He got it from the nurses who entered his room where he isolated himself, from Saihara and Akamatsu helping him to his feet in the dining hall after Harukawa threatened him, and now from freaking Momota. That stupid look that just screams “Poor Ouma… If only he had succeeded in fooling the mastermind… if only he hadn’t sacrificed himself so tragically for the sake of his plan… if only he wasn’t so weak and helpless.”

“Of course I believe what you said!” Overly optimistic Momota was back in full force, pounding his fists together with that determined smile plastered on his face. “Why else would I have cooperated with your plan?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Ouma tapped his chin in mock thought. “Maybe because I blackmailed you using Harukawa-chan? Or was it because I knew that an idiot like you would believe such an obvious lie as me wanting to end the killing game?” Pfft, as if! I never wanted the killing game to end to begin with! I looooved-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Ouma just stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You do?”

“Of course I do! You’re too scared of being vulnerable or whatever so you cover it up with this whole ‘evil persona’ of yours… It’s pretty easy to see through you at this point, after… you know...”

“I told you, Momota-chan…” Ouma grit his teeth, resisting the urge to tear Momota into pieces. “I was lying! I never have two shits about ending the killing game!”

Momota sighed.

“Whatever… I’m not the person cut out for this. If I can’t get you to admit your true feelings then I’ll just have to rely on…” Momota paused for a second, deciding to retract his previous sentence. “Never mind. But I promise you!” He stood up, holding a fist to his chest. “I’ll take down that mask of yours sooner or later!”

Ouma shot him a disgusted look as he made his way towards the exit.

Momota placed one hand on the door before looking back at Ouma.

“Feel better, dude!” He flashed him a smile and a thumbs up before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

…

And just like that, Kokichi Ouma was alone once again.

That damn Momota-chan… Thinking he can just come in here and try and get a read on me. Who the hell does he think he is?

Ouma laid down again, pulling the shitty hospital sheets over his head.

Surprisingly, he didn’t feel like crying. Rather, he just felt empty, like all the energy had been taken out of him. Maybe talking to Momota was just that emotionally taxing.

Of course stupid Momota just had to come in here and try to have a serious conversation with him and he just had to overhear him screaming at the nurses to just let him fucking kill himself. Knowing Momota, their whole class probably knew about the whole ordeal already, and was silently wishing that Ouma had succeeded in killing himself. No one wanted or needed him around anyway.

...Should he have told the truth back there? Maybe just say fuck it and tell Momota that yes, of course he wanted to end the fucking killing game just like everyone else, and then have Momota run along and tell his “sidekicks” about what happened only for Harukawa to dismiss it as yet another lie and for Saihara to…

…

Saihara.

Stupid old Shuichi Saihara.

How would he react?

Stupid Shuichi Saihara, who probably hates Ouma’s guts for what he did during the killing game.

Stupid Shuichi Saihara, who isn’t so stupid at all and carried everyone through every trial.

Stupid Shuichi Saihara and his stupid long eyelashes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Maybe Momota was telling the truth. Maybe all the others really had forgiven him for his actions, including Saihara. Maybe Saihara and Ouma could become friends and bond over the killing game, and Ouma could gush about how he was proud of Saihara for ending the killing game, and then they could-

...As if. Momota-chan was definitely lying. There’s no way that Saihara-chan would ever forgive me, let alone want to be friends with me.

...Why do I even want to be friends with him anyway? It’s not like I like him or anything like that… Kokichi Ouma does not have crushes… especially not on handsome, smart detectives who play along with all of your games, and who bandage your hand after you accidentally cut yourself and who-

…

Yep. Definitely not a crush.

Ouma sighed, rolling over in his bed and willing himself to sleep, suddenly exhausted. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed him.

And in his dreams was Saihara, mercury eyes alight with passion as he cradled Ouma lovingly, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

In this particular dream, like many others, Ouma has no fear of opening up to Saihara, as he already knows all there is to know about him. They simply coexist, souls mingling and dancing with one another.

Clutching onto the bed sheets, Ouma peacefully snored, dreaming about a world that wasn’t as far off as he thought it was.

Chapter Text

As per usual, all the participants of the newest season of Danganronpa (save for Ouma) had gathered in the dining hall for breakfast, Tojo handing out whatever dishes she had whipped up for them, ever eager to serve them. Momota sat across from Harukawa and Saihara, taking up the edge of the dining hall’s long table.

“I don’t understand why we have to wait for him if the rest of us are perfectly fine.” Harukawa stated flatly, setting her fork down next to her plate.

“I’m assuming it’s just protocol.” Saihara stole a quick glance at Momota, who was staring down at his plate of pancakes, having hardly touched his food. “All of the staff here is liable for whatever happens to us, so I’m sure they’re just waiting until they can release us as a whole.”

Harukawa nodded in agreement, turning to face Momota.

“Hey.”

She reached over the table and snapped her fingers in Momota’s face, grabbing his attention.

“...Huh?” he blinked at them, clearly dazed.

Harukawa fiddled with one of her twintails, a pout prominent on her face.

“You were zoning out again, idiot.” The faintest trace of a blush was visible on her cheeks.

“Aw, shucks! Was Maki Roll worried about big ol’ Kaito Momota?” he chuckled, grinning at the other two.

“Do you want to die?” Harukawa twirled a loose strand of hair between her fingers, no real malice behind her words.

“Besides!” Momota continued, “I wasn’t zoning out! I was totally paying attention to what you two were saying, right Shuichi?”

“You were kind of spaced out for a few minutes…” Saihara admitted. “Plus you haven’t even touched your breakfast…” he directed his gaze towards Momota’s untouched stack of pancakes. “You’re usually the most enthusiastic eater out of the three of us, so it is a bit unusual.”

“Alright, I see what’s going on here!” Momota pointed an accusing finger at the other two. “You two are ganging up on me!” He crossed his arms and huffed. “No fair!”

Harukawa shook her head.

“We just care about you, you big idiot.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking to the side and away from the both of them.

“Hey! I’m not an idiot!” Momota pouted. Saihara just chuckled at the couple’s antics.

The three of them resumed eating breakfast, including Momota, making casual conversation until they had all finished.

It was a few hours after breakfast, and most of the others were either in their rooms or relaxing in the common room.

But not Momota.

He was pacing up and down the hall, stopping every now and then right outside of Saihara’s room. Taking a deep breath, he raised his fist up to knock on the door, pausing for a few seconds right before knocking.

Was this really okay?

After talking to Ouma yesterday, Momota knew that he wouldn’t be able to get through to him no matter how hard he tried. Ouma was stubborn, clinging to that mask of his like a lifeline. The only other person that may be able to help was Saihara himself, Momota thought.
After cracking the case of every trial they had been through, seeing through Ouma’s mask should be a cinch for the former detective.

Collecting his thoughts, Momota steeled himself and prepared to knock, throwing all caution to the wind. Ouma may hate him for this, but he had left him with little other choice.

Just as Momota was about to knock, the door swung open.

“Momota-kun?” Saihara asked, a bit surprised to see the other boy standing right outside of his door.

“Shuichi?! I, uh… I was just-” Momota stammered.

“I knew I heard someone walking outside of here…” Saihara brought his hand to his chin, Momota’s presence seemingly confirming his suspicions. Could this be related to him spacing out this morning?

“Can we talk?” Momota restlessly tapped his fingers on the side of the door. “It’s about Ouma.” He looked around anxiously, as if speaking of Ouma would cause him to appear.

“Ah, sure.” Saihara opened the door a bit wider so that Momota could enter, the former taking a seat on his bed while the latter opted to stand, still pacing a bit. “What’s up?”

“Ouma tried to kill himself.” Momota wasted no time, getting straight to the point.

“He did?” Saihara asked, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I heard him screaming and saw the nurses dragging him off to the emergency room. He looked pretty fucked up.” Momota stated solemnly, as if speaking of the event made him nauseous.

“That would explain why we haven’t seen him in a while…” Saihara paused. “Does anyone else know?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Hmm… We probably shouldn't tell the others just yet. That would be violating Ouma-kun’s privacy.” Saihara added thoughtfully. “Is this what you were thinking about at breakfast?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of…” Momota drifted off. He knew more than he was letting on, and instead of pressing him on the subject Saihara remained quiet, letting Momota spill his thoughts to him. “I tried to talk to him but he shot me down.”

“You did?” Saihara shifted in his seat, processing this new information.

“...Yeah.” Momota hesitated with his response, losing himself in his own thoughts yet again. “Why the hell does he have to be so damn difficult?! He kept spewing nonsense about being evil and how much he loved the killing game! That little shit doesn’t know how to tell the truth if it killed him!”

Saihara hummed in agreement, acknowledging the other boy’s outburst. “I think… I think that Ouma-kun is struggling right now, just like the rest of us. Maybe even more.”

“Yeah… You’re probably right.” Momota sat down on the bed next to Saihara with a huff, crossing his arms. He stared at the ground, clearly still bothered by something.

Saihara inched towards him a bit, observing the other boy’s expression. “Is there something else bothering you, Momota-kun?”

Momota sighed, clasping his hands together. “...Ouma said that I was being selfish by talking to him. That the only reason I was worried about him was because I felt guilty for killing him, or somethin’ like that.”

Saihara swallowed. It was just like Ouma to try and get under Momota’s skin like that and make him feel like he was in the wrong. “I don’t think it was either of your faults. We all did things we regret in the simulation… Besides, Momota-kun, you aren’t selfish at all. You were just trying to help.” Saihara offered him a sincere smile, placing one hand on Momota’s shoulder comfortingly.

Those words seemed to do the trick, as Momota was smiling back at Saihara in a heartbeat.

“Well, it’s not like my sidekick is ever wrong!”

Momota stood back up, making his way to the door. He turned around and flashed Saihara a grin and a thumbs up.

“I’d better get going now! Let me know how it goes, alright?”

“Wait!” Saihara scrambled to his feet, confused. “Let you know how what goes?”

“Oh, wasn’t it obvious?” Momota scratched at the back of his head. “I want you to try talking to Ouma!”

“But I-”

“Don’t worry, Shuichi! I believe in you!” Momota reassured him. “But seriously, I gotta go meet Maki Roll now, so I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Saihara really didn’t feel like arguing, so he instead just nodded as Momota exited the room.

Talking to Ouma-kun… This is going to be difficult.

He had so many walls up, even during the killing game… There’s no way he would open up to someone like me.

Saihara sat at his desk and put his head down.

Despite his bubbly personality, Ouma was very serious deep down, even going as far as to sacrifice himself to end the killing game. But why? Why not just work with the others?

The walls that Ouma-kun has built around himself must be more massive than I even thought…

But then what was the meaning of that?

He thought of the whiteboard in Ouma’s room, where his own picture was labelled as “trustworthy” and separate from the others.

Is that what Momota-kun meant by saying I should talk to Ouma-kun? Because he seems willing to trust me?

But that doesn’t make sense… Ouma-kun doesn’t trust anyone. That’s why he secluded himself throughout the whole entire killing game.

Why would Ouma-kun want to trust someone like me? I’m never useful until it’s too late...

Saihara lifted his head up, resting his chin in his palm.

But maybe that’s what makes him so mysterious…

Ouma-kun…

Will I ever get to truly understand you?

Saihara pulled out the novel he was reading earlier, looking for a distraction from reality. He resumed reading, though Ouma still remained at the back of his mind.

Ouma had barely slept that night.

Replaying the events of the killing game inside his head, he spent the night thinking of what he could’ve done better in order to make his original plan work.

Would it have worked if he didn’t trap Momota inside the Exisal hangar?

Probably not… Momota was the only one capable of lifting everyone’s spirits from the despairing “truth” that Ouma told them, which would have revved up the killing game again.

But then there’s Harukawa.

If Ouma had taken her into consideration, he never would’ve had to throw out his whole mastermind plan and resort to working with Momota. Why did the stupid killer girl have to fall in love with him, anyway? Without her storming into the hangar, Ouma’s plan may have successfully worked.

But that’s not what the mastermind wanted. It was the true mastermind who instigated Harukawa’s actions, after all.

The true mastermind of the killing game, Tsumugi Shirogane… who wasn’t even real. She intentionally foiled Ouma’s plan of putting the killing game to a halt by producing that flashback light, claiming he was a Remnant of Despair.

If only he figured out her identity earlier, if only he had informed the others that the flashback lights were obviously fake, if only…

If only I wasn’t such a screw-up.

Not like it matters anymore anyway. The killing game is over now, and everyone is alive. Everything was just fake, just like our false personalities and altered memories.

Then why does it hurt so much?

Ouma’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

6:00 am.

“Good morning, Ouma-kun!” The nurse greeted with a cheery smile on her face. “Oh, would you look at that? You’re already awake! Did you sleep well?”

“Not really.”

More like not at all.

“Oh… Well, I’m sorry to hear that, then!” Despite the tense mood, the nurse still smiled, sickly saccharine.

Ouma didn’t care at all for making small talk. If he wasn’t going to open up to his therapist, there’s no way he was going to open up to some random nurse.

The nurse got to work, checking Ouma’s vitals as per usual. Why they had to do this so early in the morning would remain a mystery to Ouma, but at least he was already up this time.

Half the time the nurse came to check his vitals, Ouma was already up, having gotten little to no sleep that night. The other half of the time he was in a deep sleep, his sleep-deprived body forcing itself asleep desperately.

“You’re all set! Now, before I leave you to go about your day, there’s one last thing I want to check.” The nurse paused, looking down at her clipboard and shuffling through various papers, searching for something. “You’ve been in here for an adequate enough time for us to release you back into your old room. How would you feel about that?” She tilted her head inquisitively. Ouma wanted to gag at how overly-nice she was being.

“Sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Not like I have a choice anyway.”

“...Alright, then.” She faltered for a second, before replacing her frown with a cheerful mask. “You’re free to return to your old room at any point today, then. Just alert one of the hospital staff as you’re doing so.” The nurse said politely before exiting the emergency room.

Ouma didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately gathered up what little belongings he had- mostly silly drawings he made in his free time- and went back to his original room.

While walking down the hall, he spotted another nurse and told her that he was heading back to his room. She said something about how glad she was that Ouma was feeling better, but he tuned her out before she had a chance to finish.

Why do these nurses bother pretending that they care about us? All they do is wear false smiles, putting on a happy facade while never saying how they really feel…

Heh. I guess we both have that in common.

Ouma smiled dryly to himself at the thought of having something in common with these nurses.

Fortunately for him, Ouma reached his room without running into anyone else besides the nurses or other hospital staff. Once he was in his room he flopped down on the bed, hoping to get some shuteye. Exhausted after running through all the possible courses of action during the killing game last night, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Chapter Text

Ouma’s deep slumber, after not sleeping in lord knows how long, was interrupted by an incessant knocking at his door. Half-asleep, he faintly heard someone yell that they were coming in, followed by the opening of the door. Blinking the last remains of sleep from his weary eyes, Ouma groggily registered the sight of a nurse entering his room.

“There you are, Ouma-kun!” the nurse smiled. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” She paused for a moment, Ouma staring at her expectantly. “Actually, I’ve come to take you somewhere. You see, every Tuesday and Thursday we hold group therapy with the participants of the most recent season, and it happens to be starting in a few minutes, so I was wondering if you’d come with me?” The nurse’s tone was light but firm, suggesting that the group therapy wasn’t really optional. Nonetheless, this didn’t stop Ouma from rolling over in his bed and responding with a curt no thanks.

The nurse continued, “It’s… not really optional. It’s required, actually, and most participants seem to be benefiting from it greatly…”

Required, my ass. What’re they gonna do to me if I don’t go?

“...so I strongly recommend that you attend today’s meeting, or else you might get into some legal trouble. Your past self did sign a contract with us, after all.”

“...Then I don’t have a choice, do I?” Ouma grumbled, shoving aside his sheets and dangling his legs off the side of the bed.

“I suppose not… but just give it a try, I’m sure you’ll find some aspect of it that you like!”

Both of them knew that last part was a lie, but, seeing as he had no choice, Ouma decided to prepare himself to leave his room and look presentable for other people. The nurse left after telling him where the meeting was, leaving him to smooth out his hair in front of the mirror and change into a fresh t-shirt and jeans that his pregame self had packed for him. The thought of being associated with anything that his pregame self liked, let alone wearing something he used to like, disgusted him, but he didn’t really have much of a choice there either.

Ouma stole one last look at himself in the mirror before exiting. There were bags under his eyes, despite the nap he just took, and his clothes looked baggy on him. He must have lost some weight after barely eating the meals he was provided with, and in his reflection he somehow looked even smaller than he already was. Deciding that his appearance was the least of his worries, he exited his room and made his way to the room where the meeting was being held.

The other fourteen participants had already gathered in the room where they were meeting for group therapy, as well as the therapist leading the group. All of their seats were arranged in one big circle, one chair still empty as they were still waiting for Ouma. Normally, his absence was to be expected since he woke up last from the simulation and was soon whisked off to the emergency room, though the others did not know this (except for Momota and Saihara). They just assumed that he did not want to come, which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when Ouma hesitantly appeared near the door that was left ajar, peeking into the room cautiously, the room fell silent. No one was expecting him here.

Ouma smirked to himself, finding it amusing how predictable the others always were. Just like when he entered the dining hall the other day, they stared at him with eyes wide and mouth agape, some of them looking more fearful than surprised. The only one who didn’t look surprised was the therapist, who presumably was expecting him.

The therapist running the group was different from the personal therapist that he met with the other day, making Ouma wonder how many different staff members with glasses and clipboards were in this damn hospital.

“Ouma-kun, nice to see you.” This therapist clearly lacked the unnecessary enthusiasm that the nurses often had, which, surprisingly, put Ouma at ease. “Take a seat between Momota-kun and Akamatsu-san, please.”

Staring at the ground, Ouma walked over to the leftover seat and sat down, avoiding Akamatsu’s pitying gaze as he did so. At least Momota didn’t even bother to look at him, feeling too awkward after their last encounter.

“What is he doing here?” Harukawa grit her teeth.

“Relax, princess.” Ouma propped one elbow up on the back of his chair, sitting more casually. “I don’t wanna be here either, ‘kay?”

Harukawa glared at him and crossed her arms, but otherwise said nothing.

Rather than intervening, the therapist simply observed their exchange. She then glanced at her watch and sat up straight, announcing the start of the meeting.

“Well then, I suppose it’s about time we get started.” She looked around the room, observing everyone’s faces. “As you may have already noticed, we have a new member joining us today, meaning that this is our first meeting with all the living participants of the latest season of Danganronpa!” Her gaze fell on Ouma, who was absent-mindedly staring at the ground, wishing he was anywhere but here. “Now, Ouma-kun, I believe a brief introduction to this group would benefit you. As you may have already figured out, this is a safe space where the participants of Danganronpa’s latest season talk about their experience in the simulation, and is often a place where grievances between participants are resolved.”

The therapist then continued to list general guidelines of the group, such as how whatever is mentioned in the group stays in the group, and how everyone must be respectful towards one another.

“I think that covers it all. Is there anything that anyone else would like to add?” She opened the discussion to the rest of the room, allowing anyone to contribute.

“If I may point something out…” Kiibo spoke up, drawing the room’s attention to him. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only one who didn’t have the option to distance themselves from their programmed Ultimate talent, being the Ultimate Robot. “Why hasn’t Ouma-kun been at the previous meetings? I recall seeing him in the dining hall a week or two ago, so he should’ve been able to attend the meetings at those times as well.”

Of course, the topic of discussion just had to be Ouma himself. The former supreme leader expected nothing less to occur at this meeting, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

“Well, Ouma-kun?” The therapist spoke. “Is there anything you would like to share?”

Ouma’s signature grin had returned, cheshire and taunting.

“Oh, you guys haven’t heard? I totally tried to kill myself! I had a knife and everything!”

Using his reputation as a liar, Ouma merely told the truth, knowing that no one would believe him. He felt Momota stiffen at his side.

“Cut it out, you degenerate! Can’t you tell the truth for two seconds?!” Chabashira cried, instinctively adopting a Neo-Aikido pose with her upper-body.

“But it’s not a lie, Chabashira-chan! I felt sooo bad after what I did during the killing game that I tried to take my own life! Sowwy, but that’s the truth!” Ouma crooned as he tilted his head innocently, poking a finger into his cheek.

“Why you little-”

“Chabashira-san, please!” Akamatsu sounded exasperated, as if the discord in the group physically pained her. “And Ouma-kun… We know that you didn’t want to show up, but suicide is really serious! Please don’t joke about that!”

“Hmm… Nah! Thanks for the suggestion Akamatsu-chan, but I’m gonna keep on lying! Nice try, though!” He smirked, linking his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

“Ouma-kun…” Akamatsu’s gaze was suddenly determined, her gaze firmly settled on Ouma’s face. “Everyone here already knows the truth… How you sacrificed yourself because you wanted to end the killing game… You don’t need to lie anymore.”

And then she looked at him with the most disgusting look Ouma had ever seen.

Her eyes were full of pity, staring at “the poor guy who killed himself to try and end the killing game,” boring into his skull, digging deep into his soul and tearing into his flesh.

He then noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him this way- eyes full of pity and concern, looking down on him, making fun of him.

Ouma felt himself snap, his blood running cold.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

Akamatsu, for all her kindness and determination, fell silent, shocked at Ouma’s sudden outburst.

The whole room just stared at him, gawking at him like a fucking zoo animal.

Ouma stood up violently, digging his fingers into his scalp and closing his eyes.

“Stop staring at me!”

When he opened his eyes, even the therapist looked taken off guard.

“Ouma-kun, please sit down-”

“No! Don’t tell me what to do! I’m leaving!”

Ouma stormed out of the room, leaving a wake of destruction and chaos in the room.

He slammed the door behind him.

Ouma lingered outside of the door for a moment, trying to compose himself. How dare they all pity him like that? Like he was so weak and helpless? It made him sick.

He made his way to his room, pausing outside of the common room when he heard a familiar voice.

"That coulda been a lie, too. He probably just said it so I’d cooperate with him.”

Was that… Momota’s voice?

Ouma stepped into the common room, devoid of all people since group therapy was still taking place. On the TV he saw the familiar trial room of the killing game, along with the remaining survivors before Momota’s execution.

"Was it really a lie…?” Kiibo’s voice spoke, “I think his dying words may have been the honest truth…”

That had certainly piqued Ouma’s interest. After waking up, the participants of Danganronpa’s latest season would watch the trials take place, but since he woke up so late Ouma never had the chance to see how people reacted to his own death. He had heard from the nurses that he and Momota’s plan failed, and how Saihara ultimately ended the killing game, but he never got to witness any of the footage.

”No, it’s definitely a lie. He’s not the type to shed real tears.”

...Thanks, Yumeno-chan. Not like I’m human or anything.

Ouma watched as they briefly discussed whether or not his dying words were the truth before they moved on, dismissing his sacrifice entirely.

…

Did he really mean that little to them?

No, don’t think like that. You painted yourself as the villain so that they wouldn’t mourn you. You did this to yourself. You deserve this.

As the footage continued, Harukawa confessed her love for Momota, who was sent off with a smile as he climbed into the rocket ship, finally achieving his dream of seeing space with his own two eyes before his illness took his life. Everyone looked dejected after losing their resident optimistic astronaut, joining together in one big training session to lift their spirits.

Funny how Momota’s death had affected them so much, when he spent the killing game lying his ass off just like Ouma did. From lying about his illness, to lying during the fifth trial… Momota was just as much a liar as Ouma was. Yet he was mourned so much more, having been glorified as the hero who was blackmailed into working with Ouma.

The truth is, this is exactly how Ouma planned it to be. He didn’t want anyone to mourn his eventual death, as that would only contribute to their despair. He was perfectly content with no one missing him after he died.

...So then why did it hurt so much?

Not even Saihara, the brilliant detective Saihara who always saw the truth, had anything to say about Ouma’s sacrifice. Not even a “Maybe his last words really were the truth” or a “Thank you for sacrificing yourself, Ouma-kun.” Just a half-assed shrug followed by tears for Momota and Momota only.

No one even acknowledged Ouma’s true intentions, they just brushed over his entire plan in an instant, opting to focus on Momota instead. The hours he spent in his room coming up with different plans of action to take down the mastermind all rendered useless as both his plan A and plan B failed, leaving his entire existence and efforts useless.

Was it selfish to want more?

Was it selfish to want people to have mourned him, even after all the horrible things he did to them, if it was for the greater good?

Of course it’s selfish. You don’t deserve their attention. You don’t even deserve the fucking pity they give you.

He turned off the TV and went back to his room, having seen enough.

Can’t risk getting caught here being emotional over the simulation. No one can know that the big bag Kokichi Ouma has feelings.

Surprisingly, he didn’t cry. Not when he was in the common room and not when he was back in his own room. Sure, he cried to himself many nights in the simulation, especially after manipulating Gokuhara, but not right now. Instead he felt bitter and hollow, like watching that footage tore a hole straight into his chest where his heart should be.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He had just felt so overwhelmed with finding out that the killing game was just a simulation that crying took too much energy- it was easier to just stare at the ceiling, hoping some form of emotion would make its way into his consciousness.

Little did he know, that was about to change.

Chapter Text

”S-Sorry…! Gonta so sorry…!”

Gokuhara’s voice was strained and broken, the words coming out forced through choked sobs.

Iruma couldn’t even speak with the toilet paper wrapped around her neck; All that could be heard were desperate, guttural attempts at getting air into her lungs, which failed miserably. Ouma could vividly recall the look of shock and pure terror on her face as Gokuhara strangled her, soon being replaced with a somber expression as her body fell limp. Sparing himself from the sight of it, Ouma moved to lock the door to the roof.

”You did this to me.”

Ouma spun back around only to be met with Iruma’s face- ghastly, eyes wide and blown out of proportion, her skin turning grey. The toilet paper was still wrapped around her neck tightly, but Gokuhara was nowhere near her.

He saw his reflection in her eyes, terrified and shaking. Trying to speak, Ouma found that his voice had betrayed him.

She grabbed him by the throat, shoving him up against the door to the roof.

”You killed me.”

Her face morphed into something otherworldly and demonic, and her voice was no longer her own- it was low, with a few high pitches thrown in there to throw off the harmony, making it that much more creepy.

Ouma felt himself getting lifted up higher and higher, unrealistically so, until he plummeted towards the roof. He kept falling, faster and faster until-

Ouma shot up in his bed, screaming. It was loud and raw, like his soul was being ripped out of his body. His eyes darted around the room, and he quickly realized that he was no longer on the roof with Gokuhara and Iruma. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath, his hands clutching onto the bed sheets tightly.

Just another stupid nightmare.

Although he was now awake, he could still feel Iruma’s breath on his cheeks, picturing her demonic face inches away from his. He could still hear Gokuhara crying, sobbing hysterically after what he had been manipulated into doing.

This wasn’t the first nightmare that Ouma had had, and it definitely wasn’t one of the worst. But, like always, it caused him to wake up in a cold sweat, panting and paralyzed with fear.

No matter how many times he told himself he was sorry for what he did to Iruma and Gokuhara, they still haunted his dreams. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. During the killing game, he spent countless hours awake at night, thinking about what he had done, thinking it was real. Finding out it was all just a simulation did little to absolve his guilt, as now he was alive and had to live with the consequences of his actions.

He could lie to himself, convincing himself that he was over it all he wanted, but there was no escaping the truth: Witnessing Iruma’s death and manipulating Gokuhara had taken it’s emotional toll on Ouma, and would continue to do so until he made amends with them.

Pushing these thoughts out of his mind, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and checked the clock.

4:30 am.

Deciding that he didn’t want to go back to sleep and have another nightmare, he reached for the TV remote in search of a distraction.

He almost missed the gentle knocking on his door.

Pausing mid-reach, he tried to stay as silent as possible in order to fool whoever was knocking into thinking he was asleep.

“...Ouma-kun, I know you’re awake”

Was that… Saihara-chan?

He held his breath, praying that Saihara would just go away. As much as he missed his beloved Saihara-chan, now was a less than ideal time for them to chat.

“Please let me in. I… I heard you screaming. I just want to know if you’re okay.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was afraid of scaring Ouma away. “I’m not leaving until you let me in.”

Why is he being so insistent? I doubt my beloved Saihara-chan actually cares about me.

Ouma sighed, walking over to the door and opening it.

“...Ah! Ouma-kun!”

Saihara looked almost surprised that Ouma actually opened the door, which the latter found a bit amusing. His hair was disheveled and there were bags under his eyes- Saihara must not have slept very well either. Ouma didn’t even bother to check his appearance before opening the door, but he was sure he looked similarly unkempt.

“What is my beloved Saihara-chan doing up at this hour? Were you up all night thinking about me?” He batted his eyelashes, but it did little to distract from his messy appearance.

“...This isn’t about me, Ouma-kun.” He said deliberately, seemingly choosing his words with caution. “This is about you screaming in your sleep in the middle of the night.”

Ouma’s face turned sour, like Saihara’s words utterly repulsed him. He knew for a fact that no one in this hospital gave a damn about his, so why was Saihara pretending to give two shits about him?

“Pretending to care about me? That’s a cruel joke to play, Saihara-chan.” There was a hint of seriousness in Ouma’s tone, betraying his sincerity in the belief that no one cares about him.

“This isn’t a joke, Ouma-kun... I’m seriously concerned about you!” Saihara clenched his fists, looking at Ouma determinedly. He invited himself into the room and closed the door behind him. The two of them stood face to face, Saihara now having stepped inside the room and Ouma refusing to back up out of pride. “Isolating yourself in your room and screaming in the middle of the night…” His eyes darted up from the ground to Ouma, inspecting every inch of the smaller boy’s face. “I’m worried about you.”

Worried? As if. Poor Saihara-chan probably just feels guilty, just like stupid old Momota-chan.

Ouma rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I appreciate the concern, detective, but I wasn’t screaming. You must be mistaking me for Momota-chan, that big loser is scared of everything!”

Saihara winced at the mention of his former talent, no doubt intentional in order to push him away. Still, he persisted. Despite Ouma’s prowess at convincing himself that no one cared about him, Saihara truly did care for the other boy.

“No, I’m certain it was you.” He brought his hand up to his chin, as if deep in thought. “Besides… I happened to be right outside of your room when you screamed. There’s no doubt in my mind that it was you.”

Ouma narrowed his eyes at Saihara, before closing them and waving his hand dismissively. “Fine, fine! It was me! There, are you happy?” He tapped his foot impatiently. “Is that all you wanted?”

“Well…” Saihara began, “I was kind of hoping we could talk.”

Now it was Ouma’s turn to look surprised.

“Talk?”

“Yeah. Um, about the killing game, I mean. And about you.” Saihara’s trademark nervousness had returned as he restlessly fiddled with his fingers while he spoke. Ouma thought it was kind of cute, actually, how flustered the former detective could become over such small things. But right now he wanted no more than for Saiahra to kindly fuck off and leave him to his internal suffering.

“About moi?” Ouma placed one hand on his chest and tilted his head innocently. He paused in mock thought before continuing. “Hmm… No thanks! I’d rather go back to screaming in my sleep!” His eyes sparkled with childlike excitement, beaming up at Saihara.

“Would it kill you to tell the truth for once?” Saihara huffed, growing impatient at Ouma’s attempts to dodge the conversation.

Saihara’s annoyance only proved that Ouma’s attempts at provocation at working. Just a little bit more and he would be out of his hair...

“Nishishi… That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out!” He brought a finger to his lips, somehow closing the distance between them even more.

“Fine, then. Don’t talk. Just listen.” Saihara walked over to the bed, pulling over a chair besides it and sitting down in it. He motioned for Ouma to climb back in bed, which he did, hesitantly.

Just listen…? Maybe if I just hear him out I can get him out of here already…

“How bold of you to just waltz into my room like you own the place, commanding me into my bed… Saihara-chan must be suuuper kinky!” Ouma teased.

If he was awake enough that might have embarrassed him, but for now Saihara was tired and wanted to get straight to the point.

He gently shushed the other boy. “No talking. Just listen.”

Ouma pouted and crossed his arms, but otherwise obeyed Saihara and kept his mouth shut.

“...I know what you’re trying to do.” Saihara clasped his hands together, looking at Ouma intently. “Momota-kun told me what happened.”

Ouma opened his mouth to speak, but Saihara was quick to interject. Of course Momota spilled the beans about what happened. It’s just like him to not be able to keep things to himself.

“Before you go on about how that’s a violation of your privacy, just… remember that he was trying to help you, okay? Neither of us want to see you suffer.”

The other boy cocked an eyebrow, finding that statement less than believable.

“I just… don’t understand why you have to make this so difficult. It’s not like we don’t want to help you, Ouma-kun… Everyone here wants to help you, actually. You don’t need to make it so hard.”

...Nice lie, Saihara-chan, but I’m pretty sure Harukawa-chan doesn’t give two shits about me. Nice try, though.

“...So you thought coming in here and berating me would help?” Ouma scoffed, “And to think everyone here relies on you to make critical decisions.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Saihara didn’t waver. “No matter how hard you try to make this, we won’t stop trying to help you. Especially me. I know that you’re a good person, deep down, but you pretend that you’re not because you’re too scared of facing reality. You’re afraid of being vulnerable and that’s- that’s okay. But you can’t let it stop you from getting better.”

Getting better? As if. There’s no helping someone like me. I deserve to feel like this. I deserve to suffer.

But…

Saihara-chan must be feeling quite bold to come in here and tell me how I’m feeling. He doesn’t even know the beginning of it.

“...Are you fucking kidding me?”

For once, Saihara looked genuinely taken aback.

“You have no idea how I felt during the killing game. You have no right to call me a good person when you have no idea what it was like for me.”

It was true. Saihara knew that Ouma must not have wanted to hurt Gokuhara and Iruma, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has no idea what it was like for Ouma.

Ouma had imagined this moment many times in his fantasies during the killing game, designed for the sole purpose of helping Ouma cope with his emotions. Saihara, his beloved Saihara, would listen to Ouma as he spilled his messy emotions out, standing by his side no matter what. Reality or fantasy, Ouma felt he should set Saihara straight and let him know what it was like to carry so much fucking guilt with him in and out of the simulation.

Saihara looked almost afraid, barely contained rage emanating off of Ouma’s body. Barely awake and not thinking about his words, Ouma continued to pour his guts out.

“I cried myself to sleep every night thinking about what I did to Gonta and Iruma-chan!” Ouma tightly gripped the bedsheets, his face contorted with anger. “And you have the nerve to waltz in here with some long-winded speech of yours, thinking that you know how I felt? Thinking that you know anything about me?” That’s bullshit, Saihara-chan.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Saihara sputtered. “I didn’t know-”

“Of course you didn’t know! You could never have known how much you fucking hurt me!” Ouma faintly registered the feeling of tears running down his cheeks, stopping momentarily to sniffle and brush them off. “When you told me I was always gonna be alone that ripped my fucking heart out! Because… because…”

Because I love you.

“Because I fucking care about you! So much, Saihara-chan! I cared about you so fucking much and you had to go and say that to me! Oh, but don’t apologize, because I deserved it, right? After making myself the villain and killing two people I totally deserved to be treated like that, so don’t you dare apologize!”

Ouma was really wearing his heart on his sleeve at this point, but he didn’t care. He was too tired to care, too focused on how badly he was shaking, too focused on how goddamn annoying it was that Saihara had the nerve to come in here and apologize when he has no idea what he even did to make Ouma suffer.

“...I am sorry.” Saihara was speechless at this point, but he forced his words out as best as he could.

“I said don’t apologize.” Ouma tried to sound bitter, but he couldn’t help how weak he sounded when he couldn’t stop sniffling or keep his voice from cracking.

“But I am sorry!” Saihara shouted, exasperated. “I should’ve never said that to you… I didn’t realize you were carrying the weight of ending the killing game by yourself on your shoulders. I’m sorry. I was just angry at you for… doing what you did. I just don’t understand… You could’ve worked with the rest of us. You didn’t have to force yourself into the role of the villain.”

“I did have to! Because any one of you could’ve been the mastermind and I couldn’t afford that risk! Besides… No one would have believed me anyway. Not even you, Saihara-chan.”

“...I’m sorry.” Saihara didn’t really know what to say. He knew that Ouma was right- no one would’ve believed a notorious liar if he said that he wanted to work with everyone.

“...Sorry for what?! You don’t even know what you did!” Ouma hated those half-assed apologies, especially when coming from Saihara himself. He considered Saihara to be the only one worthy of his trust, and to have him lie in his face with those empty apologies… it hurt him even more.

Saihara was perplexed, “I thought…?”

“It’s more than what you said to me after Gonta’s trial! Do…” Ouma paused, contemplating his next words. Was he really about to pour his heart out to someone else? Maybe it’s the fact that he already went this far with the conversation, or the fact that he was tired, but he had little stopping him from continuing. “Do you remember what I said to you when we were alone in the virtual world? Right before we logged out and discovered Iruma-chan’s body?”

“...I do.” Saihara’s eyes widened as he recalled the event, realizing that Ouma must have been telling the truth. He gripped the edge of his chair, shifting his weight forward. “You were telling the truth, weren’t you?”

Ouma nodded solemnly. “I reached out to you… and you just dismissed me. And that was before the whole thing with Gonta and Iruma-chan occurred. I liked you, Saihara-chan… And you hurt me.” Ouma looked anywhere else but at Saihara’s face.

“...I’m sorry.”

There it was again, that stupid apology. Saihara better really mean it this time, or so help Ouma…

“Can’t you say anything besides ‘I’m sorry’? Do you even really mean that?” Ouma questioned. “...You know how much I hate liars, Saihara-chan.”

“Then why do you lie, Ouma-kun?”

“...Seriously? Do you know how honest I was during that killing game? Aside from the whole mastermind thing, I never told anything but crappy, insignificant lies. I cried for real during Gonta’s trial… I even-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Saihara interrupted.

“...Huh?”

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

“...”

“You’ve convinced yourself that you’re some evil being, completely irredeemable and unworthy of any kind of human connection. That’s why you pretend to be a horrible person when you’re around the others… And why you tried to kill yourself…” Saihara looked at Ouma, steadfast and unwavering. “It’s all one big lie. You’re a good person, Ouma-kun. I don’t know why you don’t see that.”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” Ouma lashed out again, surprising Saihara once more. “I’m not a good fucking person!”

It was silent for a moment, both boys trying to figure out what to say.

“...Leave. Please. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Ouma practically begged Saihara, having taken too much of being so vulnerable.

“I’m not leaving you by yourself.” Saihara stated with conviction, but Ouma was barely listening. “Not right now. It’s too dangerous.”

Was he really this weak? Opening up to Saihara just because he found him the slightest bit trustworthy? How pathetic.

“I just wanted to save everyone.” Ouma sniffled, covering his face with his hands. “That’s all I wanted to do. I didn’t ask for any of this bullshit.”

“I know that.” A flicker of silence passed over them once more. “Hey, look at me.”

Ouma lowered his hands, resting them on the bed sheets. Saihara scooted his chair a bit closer, reaching over and taking one of Ouma’s hands in his own.

“I’m sorry for doing such horrible things during the killing game. I-I’m just a big mess, good for fucking nothing-”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re an amazing person, Ouma-kun. Your heart was, and still is, in the right place.” He gave Ouma’s hand a gentle squeeze. “So don’t ever talk about yourself like that.”

Ouma nodded. God, he felt so weak around Saihara, turning into such a big and vulnerable mess. He didn’t regret it.

“Promise me you’ll try and get better? You don’t need to lie to yourself anymore. You’re safe here, I promise.” Saihara asked.

“...Okay. But only for you, Saihara-chan.” Ouma yawned. Saihara gave him a small smile in response. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.”

The two of them sat in silence, growing more and more tired as time passed. Eventually, Saihara fell asleep first, still holding fast onto Ouma’s hand.

Ouma let out a deep sigh that he didn’t even realize he had been holding in. He looked over to Saihara, noticing that he was asleep.

Stupid Saihara-chan. He has no right being that beautiful when he sleeps.

Eventually, both boys were peacefully asleep, fingers still intertwined.

Chapter Text

Ouma’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his consciousness gradually awakening. Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was Saihara peacefully sleeping in the chair besides his bed. They were still holding hands, and Ouma made the decision not to move, lest he wake up Saihara. His eyes flickered back to the bed sheets, staring at them aimlessly as he let his mind wander.

...What the hell did I just do? Saying all those things to Saihara-chan… It’s not like me so be so weak.

...And Momota-chan is so damn predictable. I knew he would at least tell Saihara-chan about when he saw me in the emergency room, but I never expected it to come back to bite me in the ass like this.

Who the hell do I think I am, making myself so vulnerable to a stupid boy just because I might like him just a little bit. Saihara-chan has no right to make me feel this way…

The truth was, Ouma had been waiting for this moment. During the killing game, when he wasn’t focusing on his mastermind plan, he daydreamed about how he would tell Saihara off for telling him he would always be alone. He hadn’t expected to be exhausted- in his rawest form with no mask- and crying when it happened.

In his mind, he had this exact moment planned out in exact detail. He would swiftly tell Saihara off for saying all those awful things to him, for not accepting his offer to work together, and then shut the other boy out, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with him. That was how it was supposed to go…

Ouma buried his face deeper into the sheets, sighing audibly.

Why did he have to get so emotional in front of Saihara?

It’s like there was something about him, something in his unfairly adorable face or his sickeningly gentle personality that just made Ouma melt, becoming completely helpless. And it absolutely infuriated him.

He hated being seen as weak, having developed a strong distaste for being vulnerable, especially during the killing game. So why did he have to go and ruin it all because of some stupid crush?

Ouma felt anxiety bubbling in his chest, his heart rate quickening. Soon enough, Saihara would be awake, most likely expecting a follow-up from their conversation the night before. If Ouma had to be that vulnerable for even another minute… he didn’t know what he would do.

He glanced over at Saihara. Still asleep.

Ouma let out a shaky breath. How the hell was he going to face Saihara when he woke up?

“Nng… Ouma-kun?”

Saihara’s gentle voice startled Ouma out of his thoughts, causing him to jump a little bit. He quickly swiped his hand away from Saihara’s, hoping he would forget about that part of last night at the very least.

But it was too late.

Saihara blushed the faintest bit at their previous contact, retracting his hand from where it lay limp midair. Ouma scoffed.

“S-Sorry…” Saihara’s voice was soft, barely audible, yet to Ouma it was all he could hear amongst the noise of the hospital. Sitting himself upright, Saihara continued, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here…”

Ouma hummed, acknowledging the other’s statement but not quite responding to it.

“Um… About last night-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Ouma stated firmly, still refusing to make eye contact. “It never happened. I was tired and being irrational. Just forget about it.”

“...Okay. I won’t ask you about it.” Saihara conceded.

Ouma lifted his eyes, gazing over at Saihara. The latter squirmed in place uncomfortably, refusing to meet the other’s eyes. Ouma looked away.

A brief silence flashed between the two boys, even if only for a moment.

“Can I just say one thing?” Saihara asked, testing the waters of Ouma’s boundaries.

“Shoot.”

“I… I want you to trust me, Ouma-kun. I understand that that’s hard for you, but…” Saihara’s gaze hardened, determined. “I want to be there for you.”

Ouma seemed taken aback, if only momentarily before regaining his composure. He sighed, interlocking his fingers behind his head, leaning back on the headboard of the bed.

“I’ll get going now.” Saihara stood up, taking Ouma’s silence as his cue to leave.

He paused once he reached the door, looking back at Ouma.

“I’ll be in the dining hall if you want to come out.” Saihara glanced at Ouma, then back at the door. “Goodbye, Ouma-kun.”

And just like that, Saihara was gone, leaving Ouma alone with his thoughts once more.

Group therapy still occurred twice a week as per schedule, but Ouma hardly attended. Despite knowing that there might be negative consequences for his actions, he just couldn’t bring himself to face everyone again. At least, not that often.

He attended sometimes. It wasn’t necessarily easy, but he did go sometimes. He would mostly keep to himself, with the occasional nod or hum in agreement, which made things slightly easier, but by no means bearable.

Saihara would show up at his room, reminding him about their biweekly meetings. Ouma would either wave him off or join him, walking to the meeting with him. They wouldn’t really talk, but it helped them both to have each other. Saihara insisted on sitting next to Ouma, ready at a moment’s notice to calm him down if he looked particularly uncomfortable.

Ouma appreciated the gesture, he really did. But he didn’t like being smothered, Saihara’s pitying glances and honey-filled words and gestures suffocating him. As of late, Ouma hasn’t really been going to group therapy. Two weeks to be exact. But Saihara always came to his door, checking up on him before the meetings just in case he did want to attend.

Now was one of those times.

“Ouma-kun?” Saihara knocked twice on the door before gently pushing it open, it having been left slightly ajar.

Ouma was laying in the bed, his limbs tangled in the sheets and his face smushed into the pillow, audibly snoring.

“Ouma-kun, I know you’re awake.” Saihara rolled his eyes, gently nudging Ouma. The other boy’s eyes slowly opened, looking up at Saihara. Noticing the way Saihara fondly smiled at him, Ouma flung a pillow at his face, smirking.

“Ha! That’s what you get for waking me up!” Ouma giggled triumphantly.

Saihara removed the pillow from his face, setting it down on the bed near Ouma’s head.

“You weren’t even sleeping in the first place…” Saihara chuckled, feeling whatever annoyance he was feeling fading away.

“Mean! Saihara-chan knows me too well!” Ouma huffed, sticking out his tongue and crossing his arms.

“Mhm…” Saihara hummed, tapping his fingers on the nightstand. “So are you coming or not?”

“Coming where?”

“To group therapy. You haven’t been there in two weeks, and it’s starting to worry me…”

“Aaaand?” Ouma cocked his head, staring up at Saihara with those innocent doe eyes of his.

“And I would really appreciate it if you came with me today.” Saihara finished, “Come on, Ouma-kun…” He sat down on the bed next to Ouma, who was now sitting up, pouting. “If you can’t do it for yourself then do it for me.”

“Fiiiine…” Ouma pushed himself off the bed, standing up and stretching. “But only for my beloved Saihara-chan!”

Saiahra smiled warmly at him, “Great! Then let’s get going, okay?”

Ouma nodded, following Saihara out of the room.

Once they had arrived at group therapy they sat down in their usual seats, right next to one another. Ouma slumped back in his chair, arms crossed as he was clearly beginning to regret coming. Meanwhile, Saihara sat up straight, proudly, while talking to Momota to his right.

When the therapist walked in she quickly glanced at Ouma, noticing his presence before continuing on her path to her seat. The other participants occasionally glanced at him as well, shifting in their seats and doing their best to ignore him. Ouma was used to this, figuring that the unpredictability of his attendance often put the others on edge. He paid no mind to it, instead focusing on the warmth of Saihara’s body right next to him, while ignoring Yonaga’s nonsensical chatter on the other side of him.

The meeting quickly kicked into gear, the therapist hushing the participants and getting started with her usual greetings. Ouma didn’t pay much attention, as per usual, and about ten minutes went by before he actually started tuning in to the conversation at hand.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…” the therapist continued, though Ouma couldn’t be any less aware of what she was talking about, “Why don’t we talk about nightmares? I’m sure nearly all of you should have experienced them by now, so why don’t we discuss what’s been bothering us?”

The sudden change in topic seemed to cast a dark cloud over the room, as the members of the room immediately stiffened. Ouma, however, was unfazed, ever aloof and detached from his feelings.

“Well? Who wants to start us off?” the therapist asked.

“I do.” Ouma stated firmly, not necessarily surprised when over a dozen pairs of eyes gawked at him, including Saihara’s. Even the therapist seemed taken aback.

Ouma wasn’t really sure what had gotten into him. Maybe it was some internal desire to impress Saihara with how open he was being, maybe he just wanted to prove how much he had progressed so Saihara would get off his case already, or maybe he wanted to prove to everyone that he was human too and also had nightmares about the killing game, just like the rest of them. Whatever it is, it was too late to back down now.

The therapist turned to him, “What was your nightmare about, Ouma-kun?”

Almost instantly, memories of one of Ouma’s most common nightmares came flashing back to him, images of Iruma and Gokuhara’s distraught faces racking his brain. He felt his heartbeat quicken, his breathing becoming shallow as he tried to focus his mind on how he was going to get out of this or, even worse, tell the group about it.

“Um… If Gonta can say something here…” Gokuhara spoke up, tripping over his words. He had been going to speech therapy to improve his language skills, and he was trying to apply what he had learned. “Gonta- I mean, I sometimes have nightmares about what happened in the virtual world. Maybe that’s what Ouma-kun is trying to say?”

Ouma nodded, staring intently at the ground by his feet, refusing to look up. Being vulnerable in front of Saihara was already unbearable enough, so why was he subjecting himself to this ordeal again?

“And… You aren’t lying right now, Ouma-kun?” the therapist asked cautiously, as if trying to choose her words very carefully.

Ouma’s eyes shot up to look at her, giving her the most indignant glare he could possibly muster.

“Forgive me, it’s just… I’ve never seen you be so… vulnerable, before. That’s all.” she defended, as if those words would amend the hurt she just caused Ouma.

She had a point though, Ouma thought. He had never been particularly expressive during these meetings, so it made sense for the therapist to be a bit suspicious. However, that didn’t change the fact that it still stung, his reputation as a liar ever so prevalent.

And to make matters worse, Harukawa just had to be the next one to speak.

“I find it hard to believe that you have nightmares about what happened in the virtual world.” Harukawa stated flatly. “You had plenty of chances to prevent that murder from happening, but instead you chose to manipulate an innocent person into committing murder. You chose to have that murder occur.”

“But would you have believed him if he came to you, saying that he was about to be murdered?” Hoshi of all people cut in, fighting against Harukawa’s words. He sighed when he received quite the number of glares, putting his hands up defensively. “Look, all I’m saying is that given how little trust you all have in him, none of you would’ve believed Ouma if he came to you saying he was about to be murdered. You basically forced his hand.”

Harukawa had another rebuttal prepared but Iruma spoke first, cutting her off before she even had the chance to speak.

“I-It’s all my fault, okay? I’m the one who wanted to kill Ouma in the first place, so if you’re gonna blame anyone blame me!” Iruma sputtered, guilt lacing her every word. “Don’t take it out on him, just… I’m sorry, okay?”

Ouma was genuinely taken aback by Iruma standing up for him, not having expected her to be on his side. If anything, she should be the one who was the most opposed to him resulting in her death, so having someone besides Saihara be on his side for once felt refreshing.

“I think we should believe Ouma-kun if he says he has a nightmare about something.” Saihara steered the conversation back to the original topic. “I don’t think it would benefit him to lie here…”

Ouma crossed his arms and slumped back in his seat, sulking. The fact that it took multiple people standing up for him to get people to believe him was insulting to say the least, and it didn’t help that he barely wanted to be talking about this in the first place. He prayed that someone else would talk soon, changing the focus of the conversation onto them instead.

Luckily, Saihara must have sensed this as well, as he cleared his throat and began talking about the nightmares he experienced. Ouma finally relaxed, closing his eyes and simply listening to Saihara’s voice, pretending they were alone together. It didn’t take long for the session to end after that.

When the session was over Ouma left as quickly as possible, wanting to avoid getting into any unwanted conversations. Saihara noticed this and called out to Ouma to get his attention.

“Ah, Ouma-kun!” Saihara jogged up to Ouma, walking side by side with him.

“Yessss, my beloved Saihara-chan?” Ouma fluttered his eyelashes, staring up at Saihara innocently.

“Uh, I have to tell you something, but…” He glanced around him, noticing all the other people around them, “We should probably go somewhere private first.”

“Hmm…” Ouma lifted a finger to his chin in mock thought, “Okay! But only because you asked so nicely!”

Saihara smiled, walking Ouma back to his room. Once they got there Saihara shut the door behind them while Ouma flopped down on the bed.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Ouma asked.

Saihara’s smile only grew wider as he observed Ouma, who finally seemed to be warming up to trusting him.

“I can’t believe you did that today.” Saihara stated, still smiling.

“Hm? Did what?” Ouma pretended to be confused, but he knew exactly what Saihara was talking about.

Saihara walked closer, sitting down next to Ouma on the bed.

“You volunteered to talk about yourself during today’s session. I’ve never seen you be that vulnerable in front of everyone else…” Saihara turned towards Ouma, making eye contact with him. “I’m proud of you, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma felt his face heat up after hearing those words. Saihara was… proud of him? Something about that sentence made his heart flutter, as if he would do anything to hear those words again, or to have Saihara look at him so fondly again… But for now, he wanted to enjoy this moment.

“Y-Yeah, whatever…” Ouma looked away, hoping that Saihara wouldn’t see the blush on his cheeks. “It’s not a big deal, you know…”

Saihara laughed, a real, genuine laugh, one that he reserved for close friends and family, one that was seldom heard by even those people. To say the very least, it was mesmerizing to Ouma.

It was over all too soon as Saihara stood up, making his way to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Saihara gave him one last smile before he exited, leaving Ouma to deal with his flurry of emotions.

Ouma wasn’t the only one dealing with his feelings right now.

Saihara closed his door behind him, slumping down against the doorframe.

...There’s no way, right? It’s just not possible! I can’t…

He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

I can’t have feelings for Ouma-kun…! There’s no way he would ever like me back!

Saihara squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing.

Okay, just relax… Everything is going to be fine… Just because you’ve been spending a lot of time together, and the way he looks up at you with those big purple eyes is adorable, and the way your heart flutters whenever you’re around him, doesn’t mean that you like him that way!

He looked up, staring at the ceiling of his room before speaking aloud.

“...Oh no…”

Chapter Text

Ouma shot up from his bed in a cold sweat, reeling from the nightmare he had just experienced. Trying his best to steady his breathing, he ran his hands shakily through his hair after glancing at the clock.

5:37 am

He sighed, noticing how his throat felt particularly dry. Although he wasn’t a big fan of leaving his room, mostly out of dread of running into the others, it was pretty early and it was unlikely that he would run into anyone else. Swinging his legs over the side of it, he pushed himself off the bed and exited his room.

Closing the door gently behind him, he blinked his eyes to adjust them to the light of the hallway. There were no nurses in sight, but he figured there would be a few nearby, still on duty. As he rounded the corner of the hall the dining hall came into view, the light still shining brightly with the doors wide open. It made sense for the hallways to be lit, but the dining hall too? Who else would be in there at this hour?

Ouma considered turning around and going back to bed, but his curiosity got the better of him as he wondered who else had business with the dining hall at this hour.

When he entered, he saw a silhouette that could belong to none other than Momota, the former self-proclaimed luminary of the stars. Holding back a smirk, he repressed the urge to tease and taunt the other boy until he got aggravated and left. Momota hadn’t noticed Ouma’s presence yet, so the latter took it upon himself to make his presence known, opening a cabinet with enough force to make a sound.

“Ouma…?” Momota had turned to Ouma, his brows furrowed and a confused expression painted on his face.

“Hey.” Ouma’s voice was devoid of all emotion, his usually cheerful and sinister grin being replaced with a blank stare.

After filling a cup with water from the fridge he walked over to Momota, taking a seat right next to him.

“What is my dear Momota-chan doing here at this hour?” The corners of Ouma’s lips were twisted into a tight grimace, as if forcing himself to smile was painful.

“I could ask you the same question.” Momota replied, gazing forward instead of at Ouma.

It was silent for a moment before both boys turned towards each other, letting out a sigh in unison.

“I’m sorry.”

Bewildered expressions followed suit, both boys gawking at one another. Momota paused to clear his throat, encouraging Ouma to continue.

“I guess I could’ve been a little bit nicer to you when you came to visit me in the emergency room. Whatever. It’s not my fault you’re so easy to provoke.” Ouma spat, practically hating every word that came out of his mouth.

“Ugh, you little…! That’s not-” Momota cut himself, seeming to think through his next words rather carefully. Ouma might’ve insulted him, but at least he was trying to apologize, in his own, albeit strange, way. “Look. I was just worried about you and you gave me a really tough time. All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t kill you to be a little honest for once, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I haven’t been told a million times before.” Ouma quipped, sipping from his water. “But what are you apologizing for?”

Momota’s gaze hardened as he spoke, “It’s my fault your whole plan failed. You left it to me to carry it out, and… I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let them vote wrong. I know how badly you wanted to defeat the mastermind, and I did too… hell, we all did. But I couldn’t carry through, and I’m sorry for that.”

Ouma’s mind went blank for a moment, him having been genuinely taken aback by Momota’s words. How could Momota be apologizing, when Ouma himself was the one to blame? It was his own fault for not planning accordingly, for not expecting Harukawa to storm the Exisal hangar, for relying too much on Momota… All of it was his fault.

“Whatever. Not like any of it was real anyway.” Ouma muttered.

“What you said was real though, wasn’t it?” Momota eyed Ouma cautiously, gauging his reaction. “About ending the killing game, about lying to yourself… Everything you said in the hangar was the truth.”

“So what if it was?” Ouma said curtly, “Like I said, it wasn’t real. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does too matter!” Momota raised his voice, his words booming throughout the dining hall. “Because that’s part of who you are! The Ouma that I know would never enjoy something as horrible as that killing game! You can lie to me all you want, but that’s the truth!”

Ouma’s eyes were wide, staring into Momota’s fierce gaze. Suppressing the natural instinct to challenge said gaze, he looked away, clenching his fists in anger. God, he hated feeling so exposed. Who did Momota think he was?

“Sure. If that’s what you want to believe then go ahead.” Ouma said defeatedly.

Silence descended upon them once more, contrasting Momota’s previous outburst.

Momota broke the silence between them once more, “I’m also sorry for not noticing earlier.”

“Not noticing what?” Ouma cocked an eyebrow, curious as to what Momota was getting at.

Momota folded his hands together, interlocking his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“I should’ve noticed earlier that you were suffering. Bearing the weight of ending the killing game on your small shoulders… No one should have to go through that alone.” Momota admitted.

“Psh! Who do you think I am!” Ouma scoffed, “I’m not one of your wimpy little sidekicks! You don’t have to protect me!”

“Actually, I was thinking and…” Momota smirked, looping an arm around Ouma’s shoulders, pulling him closer, “How would you like to be my new sidekick?” He beamed with childlike excitement, looking for Ouma’s approval like an eager puppy.

“Ew, gross!” Ouma tried to worm his way out of Momota’s grasp, but he held on tight. “I’ll pass!

“Heh, you don’t have a choice!” Momota let go of Ouma, standing up and boldly declaring, “As of today, you, Kokichi Ouma, will be one of my new sidekicks!” Momota proceeded to cheer for himself and Ouma proudly, all while Ouma sulked.

“Ugh, you are so annoying…” Ouma sipped from his glass of water, using the glass to hide his faint smile.

“Get used to it!” Momota flashed him his signature grin and thumbs up.

Ouma hummed in thought, before abruptly changing the subject, hoping to get some of the attention off of himself. “Why are you even here anyway? It’s almost 6 o’clock in the morning!”

“Oh… About that…” Momota’s grin faded away, replaced by a more serious expression. “It’s nothing…”

“Oh, come on Momota-chan!” Ouma huffed, “If I can be honest then so can you!”

“Fine!” Momota took a moment to collect himself before continuing, “...I had a bad dream. No big deal. It’s nothing that the great Kaito Momota can’t handle!”

“Are you sure about that?” Ouma snickered. Maybe he could taunt Momota just a tiny bit, especially after they talked about their feelings.

“What is that supposed to mean? Of course I am!” Momota objected, “Wait… Is that why you were here too? Because you had a bad dream?”

Ouma fell silent, Momta’s line of questioning having struck uncomfortably close to the truth. Thankfully, their conversation was interrupted by a nurse entering the dining hall.

“Ah, there you two are!” She smiled warmly at the two, a gesture that came off as more superficial than anything. “I’ve gathered everyone else in the common room for a meeting, so please make your way there as soon as possible!”

“Huh? They aren’t sleeping?” Momota questioned.

“They’ve been woken up and brought to the common room by the other staff members. Everyone is waiting, so please hurry!” she replied, exiting the dining hall.

Ouma and Momota shared a worried look before complying, following the nurse to the common room.

Sure enough, everyone was there, just as the nurse had said. Using the large crowd of people to his advantage, Ouma slipped away from Momota, not wanting to get dragged into a conversation with his other “sidekicks”. He made his way to the corner on the opposite side of the room, subtly shielding himself behind Amami.

“Is everyone here?” one of the staff members inquired, causing the various chatter of the room to subside. “Good. I’ll make this quick then, since I know you must all be tired.”

Ouma observed the others in the room, which seemed to verify the woman’s statement. Yumeno was clinging to Chabashira, rubbing her eyes wearily, while even the shining bright Akamatsu seemed sleepy, yawning not so discreetly.

“I’m sure you’re all getting sick of being cooped up in this hospital, no?” the woman asked.

A group of murmurs emerged from the group, agreeing with her statement.

“Well then, I have good news for you!” She turned to another staff member, prompting them to hand her a stack of papers, which she held up. “These are discharge forms that will allow you to be released from the hospital! I ask all of you to fill these out no later than next week with your preferred housing arrangements so that you can be discharged from this building!”

The group of participants shared a skeptical look, even those who did not particularly get along with one another.

“Now for the details!” The lady cleared her throat, preparing to list out the particular guidelines of this procedure. “The apartments will, of course, be separated by gender, so keep that in mind! All of your living expenses will be paid for by Team Danganronpa, but we encourage you to seek out jobs to get back into the swing of life! And finally, although you will no longer be residing here, it is still required of you to see a personal therapist to help you develop healthy coping mechanisms. Thank you for understanding! You can grab a form on the way out!” The woman concluded her list of rules and guidelines, making her way to the door to hand out forms.

Ouma wasn’t too surprised at this development. He had expected them to be kicked out of the hospital in a matter of time, just not so soon. Amidst his mild surprisement, he noticed Momota talked eagerly to Saihara, most likely discussing their plans to move in together. Before either of them could notice he was staring, Ouma slipped out of the room, grabbing a form and quickly heading to his room.

He placed the hospital discharge form on his nightstand, not even bothering to look at it. Making himself comfortable beneath the covers of his bed, he contemplated the inevitable: figuring out who he should room with.

Naturally, none of the other boys would want to live with him, making things just that difficult. He would likely get stuck with someone who wouldn’t want him, which would make him miserable. Honestly, there isn’t anyone that wouldn’t be a nightmare to live with.

Gokuhara and Shinguji were definitely not options, for obvious reasons. In the middle were Kiibo and Hoshi, who would probably be a bit awkward to live with but not unbearable. At the top of the list were Amami and, as much as he hated to admit it, Momota. Amami seemed pretty chill and would likely be able to deal with Ouma’s antics, and Momota seemed to have at least somewhat of an understanding about Ouma, knowing enough about him to leave him alone when necessary.

And finally, there was Saihara. Standing way above all the other boys, Ouma would be absolutely elated to live with Saihara. Though he wasn’t sure that the other boy felt the same, he at least knew that Saihara could tolerate him the best out of all of them. But it was a dream way too far out of his reach, as he had probably already decided to live with Momota.

Ouma rolled over in bed, trying to get comfortable. His current train of thought wasn’t exactly pleasant, so he decided to smother it by entering the world of sleep. Though the chances were high that he would have another nightmare, he was so tired of this debacle and generally exhausted that he let sleep claim him anyway, falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Ouma’s visits to the dining hall for breakfast had been quite sporadic these past few days, similar to his attendance to group therapy. But ever since the hospital staff made the announcement that they would have to move out soon, Ouma avoided the others like the plague. In reality, this course of action made as little sense as possible given the fact that he needed to find a roommate, but Ouma didn’t really care. They would probably just stick him with whoever, leaving him to suffer the consequences of his laziness.

Clutching his stomach, Ouma tried to quell the loud rumbling noise that came from it. Maybe just one trip to the dining hall wouldn’t hurt…

How bad could it be?

Peeling the sheets from off of himself, Ouma climbed off his bed and left the room, heading to the dining hall.

“So you two are rooming together” Harukawa asked, her question directed at the two males sitting across from her.

“Yup! Me and Shuichi are best buds, so of course we would room together!” Momota grinned, turning to Saihara. “What about you?”

“I’m rooming with Akamatsu. She offered to room with me, so I…” She looked up to notice Momota beaming at her childishly. “...What?”

“Nothin’! It’s just…” Harukawa stared at him flatly, a casual death threat waiting on her lips. “Since when are you and Akamatsu friends?”

She gave him a death glare, leading Saihara to interject.

“I think what Momota-kun is trying to say is that…” He glanced at Harukawa briefly, deciding it would be better to avoid her glowering eyes. “It’s really great that you and Akamatsu-san are friends, although it is a bit… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” She raised an eyebrow at Saihara curiously.

“Yeah! I mean, you two are just so different! Akamatsu is so bright and happy, and you’re so, uh…” Momota drifted off, fearing a threat from Harukawa.

Much to Momota’s, as well as Saihara’s, surprise, Harukawa chuckled ever so faintly, a tiny smile gracing her lips.

“Yeah, I guess we are kind of different.” Her eyes drifted towards Akamatsu, who was chattering away with Amami at the other end of the table.

The door to the dining hall swung open, allowing Ouma to enter. Noticing this, Saihara gently nudged Momota, subtly gesturing towards Ouma. Momota nodded, understanding their silent conversation.

“Hey, Ouma! Got a sec’?” Momota waved to him in hopes of grabbing his attention. Ouma looked over at Momota and, albeit hesitantly, made his way over.

“Shuichi, Maki Roll!” Momota looked at each of them while he said their name for emphasis. “Big news! Ouma here is one of my sidekicks now, so-”

“I’m leaving.” Ouma immediately turned to walk away, but froze in place once he heard Saihara’s voice.

“Wait, Ouma-kun!” Saihara exclaimed, startling the others.

Ouma faced the trio once more, avoiding Harukawa’s piercing gaze.

“We, uh…” Saihara stuttered, tripping over his words. His eyes darted between Ouma and the ground as he fiddled with his fingers nervously. “We- Momota-kun and I- were wondering if, um…”

“Wanna room with us?” Momota cut him off, getting straight to the point.

Ouma raised an eyebrow, perplexed. Was this really happening? Not only was someone asking to live with him but… Momota and Saihara? After all they’ve been through together, they actually wanted to live with him? He could hardly believe it.

“...What?” Ouma asked cautiously, half expecting it all to be some cruel joke.

“Yeah, well…” Momota rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, “We kinda got off on the wrong foot during the killing game, and sure you’re a pain in the ass but-”

“Is this going somewhere, or are you just gonna keep insulting me?” Ouma quipped, still suspicious.

“I’m getting there!” Momota shouted, exasperated. “Like I was saying… I think we could learn to tolerate each other now that the killing game is over… especially since you’re one of my sidekicks now!” He grinned, to which Ouma gave a look of disgust. “Plus, Shuichi seemed pretty excited about this whole thing, considering it was his idea!”

“Momota-kun!” Saihara protested, his face flushed. Being the center of attention once more, Saihara cleared his throat. “Um… I agree with what Momota-kun said…” He paused suddenly, waving his hands frantically with wide eyes. “Not about you being a pain, though! Just about the rest!”

Almost as if on cue, both Momota and Ouma burst out laughing. Even Harukawa gave a faint smile at their antics.

Once their laughter died down, Ouma spoke, finally answering their question. “Fiiiine! But only for my beloved Saihara-chan, not for stinky Momota-chan!” He crossed his arms, fake pouting. “Now are we done here?” He tapped his foot impatiently.

Momota and Saihara paused for a moment, both of them taken aback, before smiling ear to ear.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s great!” Momota beamed at him, sharing an excited look with Saihara.

When they both looked back towards him, Ouma was already walking out of the dining hall despite not even eating anything.

“Ah, Ouma-kun! Don’t forget to fill out your discharge form!” Saihara shouted, hoping that Ouma would still hear him.

Ouma gave Saihara a small wave of his hand, not even bothering to turn around.

If Momota saw how happy he was right now, he would never hear the end of it.

Ouma rounded the corner stealthily, darting down the hall before anyone could see him. He arrived at a dead end in which there were two doors, one of which was a broom closet, and the other of which led to the roof. At least, that’s what the label on the door said.

Gripping the handle of the doorknob, Ouma froze, hearing a familiar metal clanking that could belong to none other than Kiibo. Not wanting to get caught, Ouma quickly opened the door and dashed up the stairs to the roof.

The cool air of the outdoors felt exceptionally refreshing on Ouma’s skin, it having been way too long since he was allowed outdoors. It was eerily quiet, the dark of the night having descended upon the hospital in full force. He basked in it, a newfound peace rushing over him.

The stars weren’t particularly notable, only a few of them being visible and not too bright. Compared to the academy, this sky was nowhere near as beautiful, but he supposed there was some hidden beauty in the realness of this sky.

He looked down from the sky and ahead of him instead, counting the dozens of rooftops that were visible. They must be in a pretty busy area, he thought.

Ouma walked to the edge of the roof, sitting himself down and allowing his legs to dangle off the roof. Only now did he realize how high up he was, far away from the desolate sidewalk on which pedestrians roamed during the daytime.

He tipped his head backwards, releasing all tension from his body as he thought back to today’s events.

Hours had passed since the encounter in the dining hall, after which Ouma headed straight to his room to fill out his discharge forms. It was a tedious job, but it passed quickly due to him being in a particularly good mood.

This, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was Saihara who wanted him to room with them. Nope, not at all.

But now that he was by himself again, his overthinking got the better of him and the negatives of the situation came to light.

First of all, living with Momota and Saihara meant he would be living with the two people who most likely pitied him the most for sacrificing himself during the killing game. As much as he hated to admit it, he was close to Momota, as well as Saihara, but being closer to them only caused them to grow more sympathetic towards him. Though it was true that nearly everyone pitied him to some extent, it was notably worse with these two.

Momota and his gung-ho attitude that felt the need to save everyone would no doubt view him as nothing but a tragic hero who offed himself for the better of the group, while Saihara, despite growing so close to him and even earning just a bit of his trust, still looked at him with sympathetic eyes, like he was some poor, defenseless little boy who he could’ve saved if he figured out the truth earlier, someone who couldn’t take care of himself.

The truth was, Ouma could do more than take care of himself. He had lived on the streets by himself for years, roaming around with his found family and enjoying life to its fullest. He had no one to take care of him or baby him- he was treated as an equal, maybe even more than that, him having been their leader and all. Kokichi Ouma did not need to rely on anyone to save him.

...But that’s a lie, isn’t it?

His organization, his family, his whole entire past… All of it was fabricated for the sake of making him an interesting character for the killing game. Not to mention the fact that his memories of before the game were completely erased, never to be recovered ever again. All he had was the memories implanted into him, nothing but a fake, mocking charade glued to his brain that would haunt him forever.

Even if he was presented with the opportunity to meet his past self, he wouldn’t take it. What kind of sick, twisted being would actually want to participate in something as brutal as a killing game? The thought made him want to puke.

All of his fabricated memories and personality traits clung tightly to him, like a noose pulling on his neck. He was burdened with trust issues due to a past that wasn’t even real, and now he would be a burden to Momota and Saihara who dared to even get close to him.

A strong gust of wind blew over him, causing Ouma to instinctively tighten his grip on the ledge of the roof. His legs swayed, and it occurred to him just how easy it would be to jump off the roof and end his pitiful life right there and then. All it would take would be one push, one measly little step in that direction, one-

Clank!

Ouma felt his whole body jerk, his torso turning so that he could see behind him. The door leading out to the roof was ajar, and was slowly pushed open by a dark figure that he belatedly registered to be Saihara.

They stared at each other for a moment, trying to make out each other’s expressions more than anything, before who was presumably Saihara came forward.

Ouma opened his mouth to speak, but Saihara beat him to it.

“Kiibo told me you were up here.” Saihara admitted.

Ouma clicked his tongue in annoyance.

That damn automaton…

It’s not that he didn’t want to see Saihara, it was just that he wasn’t fond of having his alone time interrupted like this, especially when he was contemplating suicide so casually.

Saihara had nearly a million questions at the edge of his tongue, but the only one that came out was…

“Why are you so close to the edge?”

Ouma blinked, his face expressionless. His features quickly morphed into those of mischief, his signature devious grin having returned.

“Is my beloved Saihara-chan worried about me? Aww, how sweet!” He whirled himself around so that his back was facing the ledge, now facing Saihara. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m gonna be attempting suicide again anytime soon, so it looks like you’re stuck with me!”

“Unfortunately?” Saihara sat down next to Ouma, turning himself to face the same direction as him. “You say that like I wouldn’t miss you.”

“Hm, really?” Ouma tilted his head in mock thought, “I don’t recall you ever missing me the first time I died.”

“Ouma-kun, that’s not-”

“But I don’t blame you!” Ouma chirped, seemingly unbothered talking about his own demise. “I set it up to be that way, ya know! Lying all the time and being a massive jerk… All of it was to make sure no one would miss me! And it worked!”

Those last few words came out a bit panicked, like Ouma was regretting every single word he was saying. Why was he talking so much? What happened to the Ouma during the killing game that revealed so little about his true self? There was just something about Saihara that made him as transparent and fragile as a shard of glass, to be handled delicately or else he would splinter into a million pieces, never to be pieced together ever again. Saihara could try all he wanted to, but once broken, much like trust, a piece of glass can never be perfectly repaired, And right now, Ouma was trusting him.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.” Saihara was being gentle as ever, his voice grounding Ouma.

Saihara was completely right and Ouma hated it. There he was again, reading him like a book without his permission.

“Maybe we just didn’t understand you at the time. Everything you did was so complex and thought out that it was hard to see, but you really are the most selfless person I have ever met.” Saihara’s gaze had hardened, determined.

Ouma didn’t speak. Instead, he rested his chin on his knees, which he pulled in close to his chest.

It was then that Saihara realized how beautiful Ouma looked in the moonlight, his soft features being illuminated ever so subtly. His typically hard to read gaze was softened, and he looked so small while hugging his body so close to himself like that. He couldn’t help but display his affections for Ouma, reaching over and grabbing his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Though his gaze remained far away, Saihara felt that Ouma was anything but as the smaller boy rested his head on Saihara’s shoulder, nestling into him. They remained like this for a while, simply basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the peace and quiet that came with being on the rooftop alone.

They may have been alone, but at least they had each other.

An immeasurable amount of time passed before Saihara spoke up, suddenly remembering that they were still so close to the edge of the roof.

“Uh, we should probably…” Saihara stood up, and Ouma could’ve sworn that he was blushing.

Ouma stood up as well, expecting the two of them to walk inside, but Saihara just stood there, looking at him intently.

“You know I would miss you if you were gone, right?”

Ouma’s mind scrambled for a response, but before he could think of one he felt a soft hand tucking his hair behind his ear, lingering by the side of his head far too shortly. He looked up at Saihara to find him smiling at him softly, so much affection hidden behind one expression. Ouma smiled back, not caring that he felt his own face heating up.

“Let’s go inside, okay?” Saihara asked, his smile not fading away in the slightest.

Ouma nodded, following Saihara inside.

It was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Feeling Saihara’s body heat radiating next to him, Ouma was as content as he possibly could be at that moment.

It was well into the night, each of them deciding that it would be best to return to their own rooms for the time being. He didn’t know if it was physical or mental in origin, but Ouma felt himself exhausted, collapsing onto his bed nearly seconds after he settled himself under the covers.

Saihara did the same.

The one thing they had in common was that they were both smiling, thinking of the other as they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

This was bad.

No, it was more than bad, it was terrible, absolutely horrendous.

Kokichi Ouma had feelings for someone.

In the past, it was quite easy for him to relegate these feelings to the back of his brain and pretend they did not exist. In the rare moment that they did rise to the surface of his consciousness he would face them with blunt denial, acting like this silly “crush” of his was nothing but careless infatuation that would die down soon enough.

But now his feelings were staring him in the eye, baring their ugly fangs which threatened to sink into his flesh, rendering him a slave to his emotions.

If his trust issues during the killing game were anything to go by, it was evident that Ouma did not like being out of control of things. He would plan his actions very carefully in order to elicit very specific reactions from the other members of the group, who would play into his hand like puppets. Every action he took was carefully constructed and overthought, so there was no room for uncertainty.

But Ouma’s feelings right now were the epitome of uncertainty.

Love, if he even dared to call it that, was a fickle thing, whimsically swaying its victims to and fro, doing as it so desires. Ouma could take whatever actions he wanted, but he would be pathetically unable to escape the clutches of this “monster” that people called love. He was at its mercy, submitting to his heart’s desires.

Isolating himself did no good- it just made him think of Saihara even more, his absence burning a hole in his heart. But spending too much time with him was dangerous, the warm feeling in his chest blooming, growing until it was unbearable. Any sort of fine medium he tried to find between these two extremes did little to quell his emotions, rather, it made them flourish.

The fact that Ouma had feelings for Saihara was nothing new; Despite how much he denied it in the past, he at least acknowledged the tiniest sliver of a possibility that he had feelings for the other boy. But as time passed and he grew closer to Saihara, his feelings grew stronger as well. They began to dominate his mind, permeating his every thought:

When he went to the dining hall, he hoped that Saihara would be there, kindly waving him over to come sit with him.

When he bickered with Momota, he would purposefully try to gain Saihara’s attention.

And when he went to sleep at night, he wondered if Saihara was thinking of him too.

During the killing game, it had never been this bad. Maybe that was because the crushing weight of trying to end the killing game by himself was resting on his shoulders, taking over his every thought and leaving no room for such idle distractions. Maybe not. Who knows.

But now that the imminent threat of death was no longer looming over his head, he was supposed to be able to think more clearly now. Instead, stupid Saihara just had to occupy his thoughts and be so nice to him even after everything he did during the killing game.

Saihara’s sweet smile that he had reserved only for those close to him, the way he fiddled with his fingers when he was nervous, and the way that Ouma felt his knees go weak every time Saihara looked at him with those unnecessarily long eyelashes- it all made him sick.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Nothing except resign himself to his fate of suffering from an unrequited love, because there was absolutely no way that Saihara returned his feelings. Not when there were so many better alternatives available to him.

First of all, there was Akamatsu, the goody-two-shoes bundle of sunshine that tried to unite everyone together against the mastermind- a foolish move, really. She was the first to be by Saihara’s side during the killing game, and left a lasting impression on him after she died. Everything suddenly became “Akamatsu this” and “Akamatsu that” as Saihara struggled to find himself now that he was left alone.

She had been the perfect sacrifice for Saihara’s character development, her own character being reduced to a martyr that tried to end the killing game but failed miserably so early on. He had idolized her, to an unhealthy extent, almost, and did everything he could to make her proud. Of course she would be his first choice over anyone else and, given the opportunity, he would probably abandon Ouma in order to be by her side.

There was also Momota, who had been Saihara’s companion for the remaining duration of the killing game. Momota had essentially replaced Akamatsu, as the two were nearly one in the same: Both were overly optimistic, natural-born leaders with a sense of confidence that they could only hope would rub off on Saihara. Also, they both hogged most of his attention, leaving so little for Ouma to have to himself.

Momota had been, and still was, Saihara’s best friend, and Ouma couldn’t help but insult him out of jealousy, wishing that it had been him instead. But he was a good-for-nothing liar, so it was no wonder why Saihara had chosen Momota over him.

In short, there was essentially no way that Saihara would return Ouma’s feelings, not when he had so many better options available. The thought made Ouma’s heart sting, but as long as Saihara was happy he couldn’t really complain.

The more pressing issue was how Ouma would suppress these feelings and prevent them from growing. At this rate, he would end up head over heels in love with Saihara, and he absolutely could not let that happen. And if it did happen, he would have to keep it secret.

Eventually, Ouma would be rooming with Saihara, being in his immediate vicinity nearly 24/7. It was too late to back out now, so avoiding the other boy was clearly not an option. He would have to regain the self-control he had lost during the past few weeks, not allowing himself to grow too close to Saihara. It would be hard, but for both of their sakes he would have to do it.

He had to.

Ouma groggily woke up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Blinking the remains of sleep out of his eyes, he immediately recognized that he was not in his room. Suddenly more alert, he quickly scanned his surroundings, registering to himself that he was in the recreation room.

“Oh, you’re finally up.” Ouma's eyes darted around before landing on the figure to his right, who he recognized as Amami.

“Huh?” he did a double take before sitting up, instinctively backing away into his corner of the couch.

“Relax, I haven’t been here too long. Just watching some TV to try and get my mind off of things is all.” Amami replied, noticing Ouma’s confusion. “You were here when I got here so I just let you sleep.”

Ouma looked down, noticing that he was covered with a green fuzzy blanket. He assumed Amami draped it over him, because he didn’t remember falling asleep with a blanket, whenever that was.

“What time is it?” Ouma asked, still a bit dazed.

“It’s 9:00 in the morning.” Amami glanced at the clock under the TV, then back at Ouma. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“I think so, I…” Ouma’s brows furrowed as he slowly recollected the events of the night prior.

Him and Saihara had been hanging out in the recreation room late at night, as both of them tended to be night owls. After Saihara had excused himself to go to bed, Ouma sat down on the couch to watch TV, not really feeling that tired yet. But apparently he was more tired than he thought, because he passed out on the couch.

“I was here with Saihara last night, and went to watch some TV after he went to bed, so…” Ouma looked up, noticing that Amami was looking at him with a slight smirk. Ouma frowned. “...What?”

“You and Saihara-kun have been spending quite a lot of time together lately, haven’t you?” Amami asked a bit smugly.

Ouma flushed, feeling his face begin to heat up even at the mere mention of Saihara’s name. He knew where this conversation was going and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ouma huffed, throwing the blanket off of himself dramatically and going to stand up, only to be stopped by Amami.

“No need to get all defensive… It was an innocent question, right? Not like you two are dating or anything… Unless?” Amami teased ever so lightly.

Ouma reluctantly sat back down, sighing and crossing his arms indignantly.

“No! We’re not dating!” he pouted.

“Oh, okay then.” Amami mindlessly tapped his chin with his finger, “You two do spend a lot of time together though.”

Amami paused, studying Ouma’s reaction at his next words.

“You totally have a crush on him though.” he said calmly, while Ouma was anything but.

He whipped his head around to make sure that no one could possibly be listening before responding.

“I do not!” Ouma protested.

It wasn’t like him to get so flustered, but he knew that his trademark lies tended to work less well on Amami. All he could think of in defense was blunt denial, hoping that the other boy would drop the subject.

“Calm down, okay?” Amami put his hands up in defeat, trying to calm the other boy down. “I won’t tell anyone. Pinke promise.” He extended his pinkie finger towards Ouma, who looked the other way.

“Fine! But I’m not making a stupid pinkie promise with you. I’m not five!” Ouma stuck his nose up, turning his head.

“Okay, have it your way.” Amami stood up, making a show of looking around the recreation room. “Saihara-kun should be in his room right now, so if I just…”

Ouma’s eyes widened, and before he knew it he was frantically jumping in front of Amami in order to stop him from telling Saihara.

“Wait, fine! I’ll do it!” Ouma reluctantly held out his pinkie finger, to which Amami smiled triumphantly and interlocked his finger with Ouma’s.

“There. Your secret is safe with me!” Amami released his finger, allowing his arms to drop back to his sides.

“Sooooo…” Now it was Ouma’s turn to smirk, his typical persona now back in full force. “Does my beloved Amami-chan have a crush on anyone? Nishishi…”

Amami flushed just the tiniest bit, before the door to the recreation room opened. He turned to see who entered the room, then turned back to Ouma, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Good morning!” Akamatsu beamed, making her presence known in the room.

“Ah, Ouma-kun.” Amami gestured towards Akamatsu, lopping his arm around her waist. “This is my girlfriend, Kaede.”

Akamatsu blushed upon hearing her first name come from Amami’s mouth, as she seemingly never got used to hearing it.

“Still haven’t gotten used to that, eh?” Amami teased, causing Akamatsu’s blush to deepen.

Ouma tuned out the rest of their conversation, processing the information he had just received.

Amami and Akamatsu were together?

That would explain a lot. Ouma had always noticed the two of them spending time together, but he just figured it was because they were the first two out of the simulation and had grown closer to each other. He never knew that they were dating.

But even if Akamatsu was with Amami, that didn’t change the fact that Ouma simply wasn’t appealing enough to Saihara. Not to mention Momota still being in the way.

Of course, a tiny part of his brain was hoping that he was wrong and that Saihara was interested in him, but he did his best to silence this part of himself in order to avoid becoming too optimistic. Can’t let yourself get your hopes up only for them to be dashed, he supposed.

He took one glance at the happy couple, disgusted at how in love they seemed. Once the couple seemed adequately occupied with one another, Ouma slipped out of the recreation room, returning to his own room, where he would spend the rest of the day sulking about how his feelings were unrequited.

At least, the feelings that he thought were unrequited.

Chapter Text

About a week had passed since Ouma’s encounter with Amami in the recreation room, and the participants of Danganronpa’s 53rd season were finally being discharged from the hospital. The moving process was pretty simple; All that had to be done by the participants was gather whatever belongings they had and be relocated to the new apartment complex. After that, they would move into their individual apartments and settle into their rooms.

The apartment complex was surprisingly small, though in retrospect that was to be expected given that only 15 people would be living there. The complex consisted of two buildings adjacent to one another, one of which was for the boys and the other one being for the girls. Each building contained the aforementioned apartments, a game room and a common room. There was also a nearby park, as well as various stores and local businesses.

After being dropped off outside of the apartment complex, the participants separated into two groups and headed to their assigned buildings. Saihara and Momota stuck together, practically inseparable as best friends, while Ouma trailed behind, vaguely following them.

The three of them eventually arrived at their apartment, which was located at the very end of the hall. Upon entering, Ouma observed that the apartment was well furnished and quite spacious, containing a living room and a kitchen adjacent to one another, with a bedroom off to the side, and inside the bedroom was the door to the bathroom.

Throwing his bag down on the floor, Ouma immediately set to exploring his surroundings. The living room contained a large couch with an average sized television right across from it, accompanied by light brown carpeting and a coffee table. The kitchen was also visible from there, and it contained all of the basic kitchen necessities: a stove, oven, microwave, counters, a dinner table with four seats, and a kitchen island with some stools on one side of it.

Venturing further into the apartment, Ouma couldn’t help but let out an excited gasp upon seeing the bedroom. On the right side of the room was a single person bed, and on the left side of the room was a bunk bed which, of course, was practically begging Ouma to occupy the top bunk. He immediately dashed towards it, climbing up the ladder and making his way towards the top.

“Woah! Ouma!” Momota’s voice rang throughout the bedroom as he entered, watching Ouma eagerly climb the ladder. Saihara only chuckled at his childish antics.

“Back off, Momota-chan! This bed is mine!” Ouma had reached the top of the bunk bed, lying on it face down and sprawling his limbs out. “And you can’t have the bottom bunk either! That space is reserved for my beloved Saihara-chan!” He grinned at them, propping his chin up on his palm.

“Wha- You can’t just go around making decisions like that for us!” Momota protested, “I bet Shuichi doesn’t even wanna share the bunk bed with you!”

Saihara frantically waved his hands in an attempt to calm Momota down, “It’s fine, Momota-kun! I don’t mind at all, really!”

Momota clicked his tongue in annoyance, Ouma giving a small “nishishi” in victory before climbing down from the top bunk.

The trio then brought their belongings into the bedroom, unpacking whatever few things they had brought from the hospital. Ouma’s belongings mostly consisted of silly drawings he made in his free time, along with other basic items like clothes and toiletries. He haphazardly shoved all of his belongings into the top drawer of a dresser, not really taking the time to make everything neat and organized.

It was already evening by the time they were all finished unpacking, the day passing by rather quickly as they all relocated to their new place of living. Just as Ouma was about to sit down on the couch and watch some television in the living room, he was stopped by Momota.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Momota asked, “We’ve got training to do!” He grinned, pounding his fists together. Saihara was also standing with him, sheepishly smiling at Ouma.

“Training? What the hell does that mean?” Ouma questioned, clearly confused.

“Every night during the killing game, Momota-kun and Harukawa-san and I would do training in the courtyard together so that we could get stronger… though if I recall correctly, Momota-kun did more talking than actually training.” Saihara remarked slyly.

Ouma eyed Momota skeptically, who spluttered in defending himself.

“W-Well I was already the strongest one there, so I didn’t need to train as much as you guys! That’s why!” Momota shook his head indignantly as he spoke, while Saihara just laughed it off. “Maki Roll won’t be joining us for training tonight, and since you’re one of my sidekicks now it’s your responsibility to show up and train with us!”

“First of all, I’m not your sidekick!” Ouma protested, “Second of all, where do you guys even plan on doing this? I don’t recall this place having a courtyard or whatever for you guys to do your dumb training in.”

“Actually, there’s a park right across the street from this place! It’s perfect!” Momota beamed like an overly excited puppy. “So c’mon, what’re you waiting for!”

Knowing that Momota wouldn’t give up until he got a yes for an answer, Ouma conceded.

“Fiiiine…” Ouma sighed, “I’ll go to the park with you guys. But just this one time!”

“Great! Now let’s go!” Momota cheered.

Ouma rolled his eyes, resigning himself to his fate.

It was only one night… How bad could it be?

“Twenty-one… Twenty-two… Twenty-three!” Saihara grunted, diligently doing his push ups.

To his left, Momota was, surprisingly, doing his push ups as well, while Ouma was to his right, picking at the blades of grass beneath them. To be fair, Ouma did genuinely try doing his push ups, but after about four or five he got tired and opted to lay down on his stomach and relax instead.

“Ouma, what gives? I don’t see you doing any push ups!” Momota stopped doing his own push ups to momentarily scold Ouma, giving himself a small break. “I thought you said you would workout with us!”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong Momota-chan!” Ouma chirped, “I said I would go to the park with you, not that I would do your stupid training!”

“You little-!” Momota began, only to be cut off by Saihara.

“That doesn’t mean you can take a break, Momota-kun! I’m the only one doing any training here!” Saihara spoke through labored breaths, straining through his exercise.

“Wow, Saihara-chan is super strong! Not like wimpy ol’ Momota-chan over there!” Ouma teased, glancing in Momota’s direction.

“Hey! Who are you calling a wimp?!” Momota took the bait, not realizing that Ouma was intentionally provoking him.

“Nishishi, I thought Momota-chan was all muscle and no brains, but it turns out he’s neither!” Ouma taunted.

“That’s it!” Momota sat up, fuming. “I’ll show you who’s a wimp!”

“Momota-kun, wait!” Anticipating the worst, Saihara attempted to deter Momota’s next actions.

But it was too late.

Ouma let out a yelp and scrambled to his feet in order to get away, but Momota caught up to him and put him in a solid headlock.

“What the hell?” Ouma tried prying Momota’s arm from around his neck, but it was no use. “Get off of me!”

“Take back what you said about me!” Momota smirked.

“Wh- Huh?” Ouma stopped struggling momentarily, processing Momota’s words. “No way!”

“Maybe this’ll convince ya!” He started ruffling Ouma’s hair with his free hand, giving him an old-fashioned noogie.

“Stop!” Ouma protested, clawing at Momota’s arm.

“Momota-kun! Don’t…” Saihara interjected, but trailed off once he realized that both Momota and Ouma had huge smiles on their faces, laughing at how ridiculous and childish they were acting.

Saihara couldn’t help but laugh too.

They bickered with each other for a while longer before Ouma finally conceded despite his stubbornness.

“See? That wasn’t so bad!” Momota grinned.

“Ugh…” Ouma pouted, smoothing his hair back down. “You’re the worst.”

“We should probably head back now.” Saihara suggested, looking up at the sky. “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“Damn, already?” Momota followed suit, observing the quickly darkening sky. “But we just got here!”

“Unless you want to stay here and finish your hundred push ups.” Saihara remarked.

“Uh…” Momota stammered, “I already did a few hundred push ups this morning, so I’m already good!”

“Now that’s definitely a lie.” Ouma linked his hands behind his head, walking away. The other two followed, heading back to the apartment complex.

Ouma tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. He rolled onto his side, trying to avoid facing the crushing reality right in front of him, but it was no use.

He opened his eyes.

It was dark. An obvious statement considering the fact that all three of them decided to go to bed, turning off all the lights save for the nightlight in the corner of the room. Peering over the edge of the top bunk he could see the nightlight, shining brightly in its designated spot. He could also see Momota, who was fast asleep and snoring quite loudly.

Ouma was feeling restless, wanting to adjust his position by turning over and facing the wall instead. But doing that required momentarily laying on his back and- even if only for a split second- facing the ceiling. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ouma braced himself to do just that.

Three… Two…

“You’re alone Ouma-kun, and you always will be.”

One.

His eyes shot open, but the pitch black darkness didn’t help the image of the hydraulic press looming over him dissipate from his mind. With a sharp inhale he sat up as much as he could (which wasn’t very much), jerking his body forward.

The feeling of the cold metal of the hydraulic press on his back despite laying on Momota’s galaxy-printed jacket…

The sensation of tears gently streaming down his cheeks as he prepared himself for his death…

And the recollection of how alone he felt…

All of it was coming back.

Blinking rapidly, Ouma tried to clear the tears from his eyes as he sniffled and trembled.

That’s right. No one wants you here anyway. They all hated you from the start, before you committed to that stupid evil persona of yours. No one cares that you died. You’re alone and you always have b-

“...Ouma-kun?” Saihara’s gentle voice rang throughout the silence of the room, startling Ouma.

Not wanting to be heard crying, he rubbed at his eyes harshly and stifled his breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.” The sound of Saihara getting up from his bed could be heard, followed by a short pause. “Do you wanna… talk?”

No response.

“Please just… come down from there, I…” Saihara whispered, “I think I already know what the problem is.”

After hesitating for a moment, Ouma complied with Saihara’s request, climbing down from the top bunk.

“I wasn’t crying, just so you know.” Ouma stated blankly, despite his sniffling.

“Is it okay if I…?” Saihara tentatively reached out, placing a hand on Ouma’s shoulder. The other boy nodded, giving Saihara permission to pull him in closer for a tight hug.

Moments passed by in silence, Saihara simply hugging Ouma in an attempt to bring some comfort to him. Whether it was due to the tenderness of the gesture or the lack of sleep, Ouma broke down into another crying fit, sobbing into Saihara’s chest.

“It’s okay…” Saihara rubbed soothing circles into the small of his back, whispering comforting words into his ear. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I’m here for you.”

Ouma’s sobs eventually died down, leaving him weakly hugging Saihara, seeking for confirmation that he was real. Saihara pulled back ever so slightly, looking down at Ouma.

“Do you…” Saihara whispered, cautiously checking to make sure Momota was still asleep. “Do you want to switch beds for now?”

Ouma nodded, letting Saihara guide him to his bed. He chewed on his lip in thought, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than tucking himself in. Just as Saihara was about to walk over to the ladder leading to the top bunk, Ouma reached out and lightly tugged on his arm.

“O-Ouma-kun?” Saihara stuttered, a bit taken aback.

Ouma gave his arm another light tug, pulling him even closer.

“Ouma-kun, what is it?” Saihara asked.

“...Stay with me?” Ouma’s voice was barely audible, a faint whisper in the darkness.

After taking a moment to process those words, Saihara stepped towards Ouma and joined him on the bed. He grabbed the other boy’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Ouma registered upon waking up was that it was cold.

It wasn’t a blistering cold, but it was an absence of warmth that left him huddling under the covers in search of more heat. He vaguely recalled crawling into the lower bunk with Saihara last night, their bodies just barely close enough for them to feel each other’s body heat. Speaking of which, where was that body heat right now?

Groggily cracking his eyes open, Ouma sat up in bed and cast a quick glance to either side of him. Nothing. Saihara was gone and, upon inspection of the other bed in the room, Momota had risen as well.

Ouma yawned, interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms in front of him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but froze when he heard faint voices from the living room.

“Are you sure, Momota-kun?” Unmistakably Saihara’s voice asked, “He’ll find out soon enough, you know how he is.”

“Ouma doesn’t need to know!” Momota argued, “Besides, he’s still sleeping! I bet we’ll be back before he even wakes up!”

Both of them froze when they heard the creek of the bedroom door opening, revealing a less than pleased Ouma standing over the threshold.

“O-Ouma!” Momota stammered, “Uh… How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” Ouma frowned, sticking his nose in the air haughtily. “I can’t believe you two were making plans without me, right in my own home! How rude!”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Saihara spat out, panicking. “We were only trying to protect you!”

“Psh! I don’t need protecting! Who do you think I am?” Ouma crossed his arms, pouting. “Now out with it!”

“Fine…” Momota gave Saihara a quick look before continuing, “Me and Shuichi were thinking out heading to the supermarket to pick up some groceries and other necessities.”

“That’s it?” Ouma asked, perplexed. “What’s the big deal about that?”

“We figured you would probably want to come with us, but, uh…” Saihara scratched at the nape of his neck nervously, “We’re not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Ohhhh, I see!” Ouma clapped his hands together excitedly. “Just kidding, I totally don’t get it. You were saying?”

“Listen, I know you don’t see it this way but you have enough on your plate already and we don’t want to give you even more to deal with.” Momota answered, “People probably aren’t going to react so greatly to seeing you out in person, especially after… you know…”

“We just don’t want you getting harassed or anything for what you did during the killing game.” Saihara explained, “I… I don’t want to see you get hurt, Ouma-kun.”

“Aw, how sweet!” Ouma grinned, “I appreciate the thought and all, but I don’t need you two protecting me from harm! I’m a big boy, I can handle myself!”

Saihara and Momota exchanged a worried glance, sensing Ouma’s stubbornness.

“Ouma-kun, please-” Saihara practically begged.

“It’s fine!” Ouma rolled his eyes, demonstrating his growing boredom. “I’ll show you that it’s no problem at all!”

“...Fine.” Momota gave in, not wanting to argue with him. “We leave in five.”

“Yay! I’ll go get ready!” Ouma gave a small cheer before running off, leaving Saihara and Momota standing awkwardly in the living room.

Both of them were clearly displeased at this turn of events, not having expected Ouma to wake up and interfere with their plans. But nonetheless, there was no taking back what had just transpired, so they simply prepared themselves for the inevitable.

After a short amount of time, Ouma returned to the living room to meet the other two once again.

“So what store are we even going to?” Ouma asked curiously.

“There’s a supermarket a few blocks from the apartment complex.” Saihara answered, “It’s pretty nice out so I figured we could walk there.”

“Okie dokie!” Ouma smiled, innocent as ever.

The trio then departed, making their way to the local supermarket.

A few blocks later, the three boys arrived at the store. It was still quite early in the morning, thus the store was sparsely populated. This was the first time being in a public space since the killing game for all three of them, so it was agreed on that they should try to minimize their exposure to people for a bit. Ouma immediately took to observing the inside of the store, inadvertently making eye contact with a particularly sour-looking saleswoman. Paying no mind to it he quickly looked away after giving a sly smile. He was determined not to let anything get to him, solely focusing on getting in and out of the store.

The store was neither too large nor too small; It was big enough to house all of the supplies they needed yet small enough to seem cozy. Upon entering, the three boys decided it would be best to divide up their tasks, each of them searching a certain area of the store. Saihara was to stock up on food and drinks and Momota was to search for toiletries and other basic necessities not provided for them already, leaving Ouma to look for any other miscellaneous items. It was really a two-man job, as Saihara and Momota were covering both main areas of items that were needed, so Ouma took the opportunity to relax and browse the store for anything that seemed entertaining.

While Saihara and Momota occupied the first few aisles and middle of the store, Ouma took to the back shelves filled with various knick knacks and other goods. There were arts and crafts kits and board games suited for children, brightly colored with words that popped off the packaging. Travelling left led Ouma to discover a variety of puzzles, including a few milk puzzles. After a few moments of consideration, Ouma selected a puzzle that had the best chance at entertaining him, as well as a deck of cards and a mystery themed board game.

After scouring the remaining aisles for anything else that may have caught his attention, Ouma approached the register, noticing that the only open register was being run by the same lady that gave him a not-so-friendly look before. An awkward tension pierced the air as Ouma set his things down on the counter, sliding them forward.

The exchange was painfully silent as Ouma swiped his card, carefully stacking his items while sliding the receipt into his pocket. Mumbling a half-assed thank you, he gave the woman one last look, carefully observing her features.

The scoff that she gave almost went unheard by Ouma. Almost.

Narrowing his eyes, he stared back at her with more vitriol than before, though it hardly rivaled the look of pure disgust on her face.

“You’re lucky I even touched your filthy items, what with the horrible things you’ve done and all.” She spat, a haughty tone coating her words. “The other two I could deal with, but you’re really something else, you know? Walking in here like the whole outside world doesn’t hate you, acting like you’re above it all. It’s disgusting. I’m surprised you even got those two to tolerate you.” She gestured to Saihara and Momota, who were waiting outside of the store with their backs turned to Ouma, completely unaware of what was going on.

Ouma simply stared, processing the words that were just spat at him. He could deal with one person hating him, but the whole world outside of the killing game? Was he really that despised?

...Did his sacrifice mean nothing to them?

“I’d be careful if I were you.” The lady continued, ignorant of Ouma’s inner turmoil. “Or else you’ll end up back in the hospital where you belong.”

Eyeing her cautiously, he stepped backwards, slowly making his way to the exit. He had no idea how true this woman’s words were and he had no intention of finding out. Forcing the most obnoxious smile onto his face that he could muster, Ouma responded:

“Have a wonderful day, and thank you so much for the kind words. I truly appreciate it.”

The look of horror on the woman's face was most definitely worth it, Ouma thought.

With a quick turn of his heel he walked out of the store, meeting Saihara and Momota where they were standing outside.

“There you are!” Momota turned to him, “What took you so long?” He cast his gaze downwards, observing the items in Ouma’s hands. “What did you get?”

Ouma proudly showed off his items as they walked back to the apartment complex, describing each one with an unnecessary amount of detail. Momota then proceeded to call his purchases “childish” and “a waste of their money”, to which Ouma produced a waterfall of crocodile tears. By the time that Saihara was able to calm him down they had arrived at the apartment complex, the day still young.

Once they had arrived, they went about dispersing their newly purchased items into their new locations. While Saihara and Momota busied themselves with organizing things, Ouma simply threw the games he bought in the bedroom and went to go watch some television. For the time being he was content with just relaxing, the words of the woman from the store having been shoved to the back of his mind for now.

“Alright, that’s enough stretching!” Momota declared, standing up straight. “It’s time for today’s workout!”

The sun was rapidly setting, the glowing orange tint of the sky fading into a purple-black. Soon enough, they would be engulfed by the darkness of the night.

“So what’s the workout for today?” Saihara asked, finishing up the last of his stretches.

“A run!” Momota announced proudly, messing with a few of the buttons on his new watch. “Fifty laps around the apartment complex!” With a loud beep of his watch, Momota took off running in the direction of the apartment complex, located just across from the park.

“Should we follow h-” Saihara turned towards Ouma, who was already sprinting away after Momota. With a sigh, Saihara began to jog after them, careful to conserve his energy.

Momota, who was already by the apartment complex, gave a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he saw Saihara lagging behind. When he turned back forward, however, he yelped in surprise as he saw Ouma jogging slightly ahead of him.

“Nishishi!” Ouma giggled, noticing Momota exclaim in shock. “Momota-chan must be pretty out of shape if he can’t even keep up with me!”

“Huh?! You little-!” Momota sped up, chasing after Ouma. “I’ll show you who’s out of shape!”

“I’d like to see you try!” Ouma sprinted even faster, feeling surprisingly good. All of that running away from Momota that he did in the past was proving useful, he supposed.

Ouma and Momota remained in a stalemate for quite a while, each of them refusing to give in and slow down, even if that would be beneficial to them in the long run. Fatigue quickly settled in and they each began to slow down, though they stubbornly kept going.

Then Ouma tripped.

“Woah!” Momota came to a halt, crouching down besides Ouma. “Are you okay?”

“...Momota-chan…” Ouma whispered weakly, eyes downcast.

“...Yeah?”

“You’re so gullible!” Ouma took off in a sprint once more, barreling ahead of Momota.

“Damnit!” Momota tried, but failed, to catch up with Ouma, who had benefited greatly from the headstart he gave himself.

He ran and ran, but eventually Ouma disappeared from his line of sight, blurring into the horizon.

Ouma had been running for what felt like hours, though in reality he knew it had probably been closer to about fifteen minutes. The apartment complex was already relatively large in perimeter, and doing laps around it only made him realize how truly large it must’ve been. It was completely dark out by now, the sun having dipped fully below the horizon. The moon was shining brightly, casting a shimmer of moonlight over his face.

Arriving at the entrance to the apartment complex, Ouma took note of how many laps he had completed. A quick check over his shoulder let Ouma know that neither Momota nor Saihara were nearby, giving him the perfect opportunity to take a break. He bent over, hands on his knees, panting. After staying like that for a few moments, he did a quick stretch and stood back up, letting out one last breath.

Staring into the distance, Ouma saw two figures approaching from the opposite direction.

“Saihara-chan! Momota-chan! There you guys are!” Ouma shouted, “I was starting to think you guys got lost or something!”

No response.

But Ouma could’ve swore he saw the two figures speed up.

Panic started to settle in as the two figures got closer and Ouma realized that they were, in fact, not Saihara and Momota. Forcing himself to move on shaky legs, he realized that he would stand little chance in a fight against two men significantly larger than him, especially with how winded he was from all the running he just did. With no other option but to run, Ouma forced himself to turn around, barely seeing the two mysterious men break out into a full sprint.

Two strong hands gripped his shoulders, jerking him backwards despite his attempts to get away. Before he could even turn around, something heavy and metallic connected with his head, sending a blaring pain throughout his skull. One hand breaking his fall and the other clutching his head, he could barely make out the two faces of the men right in front of him. He felt another sharp pain in his head, the arm supporting him giving out and causing him to crash into the ground.

The sound of two men laughing was the last thing he could remember before going unconscious.

Chapter Text

Looking over his shoulder, Momota double-checked his surroundings to make sure no one would see him. He ceased running and came to an immediate halt, struggling to catch his breath.

“Ah, Momota-kun!” Saihara’s voice came seemingly out of nowhere, startling Momota. “There you are!”

Momota turned back around to see Saihara slowly jogging up to him, having just turned around the corner.

“Oh, uh, hey there sidekick!” Momota fumbled over his words, finding himself caught off guard. “I was just doing some stretching! Can’t risk getting injured, ya know?” He made a feeble attempt at stretching his legs, hoping Saihara would be too fatigued to see through his bluff.

Saihara slowed his pace until he was stationary, standing besides Momota. The two stood there for a while, puffs of cold air becoming faintly visible as they caught their breaths.

“Have you seen Ouma-kun?” Saihara asked, his breathing now steady.

“Not since he decided to sprint ahead of us.” Momota replied, staring off into the distance. “We should probably go find him.”

“We can wait for him by the entrance to the building, since he’s bound to show up there eventually.” Saihara offered. “Besides, we aren’t too far from…”

Saihara drifted off, noticing that Momota was still staring far ahead of them.

“Momota-kun?” he tried to grab the other’s attention, however he was intently focused on whatever it was that he was looking at. His curiosity getting the better of him, Saihara pointed his gaze in the same direction, finally realizing what it was that had Momota in such a daze.

The two of them were not too far from the entrance to the apartment complex, said entrance being vaguely visible from where they were standing if one squinted. Saihara did exactly that, leading him to barely register the sight of two large figures, one of which was holding… a bat?

Sharing a determined yet worried glance with Momota, Saihara prepared himself for the worst. Their previous fatigue leaving their bodies, Saihara and Momota ran up to the entrance of the building, screeching to a halt when two shady-looking men appeared in their view.

It was to their own horror and shock that they realized that there were three, not two, people present by the entrance, the third person being Ouma himself lying unconscious on the ground.

Saihara felt himself freeze up, his body failing him. He tried to move but found himself unable to, his vision swirling.

Ouma was… unconscious?

In the midst of his daze he heard Momota shout, but his words were unclear. All Saihara could think about was Ouma lying on the ground, completely helpless and vulnerable. A small pool of blood was visible underneath his head, rapidly expanding as his wound bled. There was no telling what awful things would have happened had Saihara and Momota arrived later.

Saihara’s feelings of fear and self-doubt became replaced by an overwhelming rush of adrenaline, his shaking body becoming more stable as his vision sharpened.

I have to do something… I can’t just stand by and watch!

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, he felt a surge of confidence rush through him. He could do this! All he had to do was act intimidating enough to scare them away and…

Whack!

Two figures rushed past him, sprinting off in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Momota was down on one knee, clutching his right arm with his left.

“Momota-kun!” Saihara began to panic once more, seeing as Momota was now down also.

“I’m fine…” He stood up, still holding onto his arm. “Don’t worry about me… We need to get Ouma somewhere safe.” His words came out rather strained, pain clearly threatening to overtake him. But he pushed through, for Ouma’s sake more than anything.

“R-Right…!” The two of them hurried to Ouma’s side, Saihara moving even quicker than before.

Ouma’s eyes were closed, making him look almost peaceful were it not for the fact that blood was pouring out of his skull. The faint but steady rise and fall of his chest signaled that he was still alive, just unconscious.

“We need to call an ambulance!” Fumbling for his phone, Saihara pulled it out of his pocket and immediately dialed the emergency number.

While Saihara spoke with the dispatcher on the other end of the phone, Momota cautiously re-checked their surroundings to make sure the two men weren’t coming back. Once the coast was clear he relaxed, though still kept his guard up. He was in more pain than he was letting on, having been hit near the shoulder with a metal bat, but he had no regrets. Although he acted a bit rashly, the punch he landed on one of the men made it more than worth it.

“Damnit…” Momota cursed under his breath, kicking at the pebbles on the ground.

What kind of hero was he if he couldn’t protect one of his sidekicks from getting hurt?

If only I had been there sooner…

Tears sprung in the corners of his eyes, his frustration manifesting itself.

This shouldn’t be happening anymore… Why can’t they just leave us alone?

“Damnit!” He yelled more forcefully this time, catching Saihara’s attention. He had finished the phone call moments ago and was in the middle of wrapping his jacket around Ouma’s head, hoping to stop the bleeding.

“Momota-kun…?” Saihara asked tentatively, sensing the other’s distress.

“This is all crap!” Momota turned towards Saihara, unbridled rage visible in his eyes. “This kind of shit shouldn’t be happening anymore!”

“Yeah… I know how you feel.” Saihara added sorrowfully, eyes downcast.

Momota clenched his fist, bringing it close to his face and observing it. “I just wish I could’ve done something to protect him…”

“Me too…” Saihara added.

He wanted to tell Momota that he did all that he could, which was much better than just freezing up and doing nothing. At least Momota wasn’t useless…

An uncomfortable silence befell them as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

A few minutes passed, arguably stretching into what felt like some of their longest minutes since being in the killing game, until the ambulance arrived. They hauled Ouma away to the Team Danganronpa hospital, Saihara and Momota being escorted there as well.

Saihara anxiously bounced his leg up and down as he sat in the waiting room of the hospital alongside Momota, who seemed to be brooding as well. About an hour or so had passed since they arrived at the hospital, but the two boys had lost track of all time as they waited uneasily. It was well into the night, but they were both wide awake, concern for Ouma pervading their minds.

Finally, one of the nurses that they had come to know during their time at the hospital emerged from the room that Ouma was in, making her way towards them. Saihara noticed her and nudged Momota, who was so lost in thought that he failed to see her.

“Is Ouma-kun okay?” Saihara asked nervously, palms gripping the edge of his seat.

“He’s going to be fine.” She reassured, much to their relief. “He has a concussion so we’re going to need to keep him here overnight, but he should recover just fine over the course of a few weeks. We can release him as early as tomorrow morning, but we recommend keeping him here a bit longer just so we can monitor him.”

Saihara and Momota sighed in unison, letting out some of the tension they had been holding.

“Also, he’s awake right now if you’d like to speak with him. He seems to be a bit confused about the whole situation.” She added, “We’ve arranged for you to be dropped off at the apartment complex tonight, so whenever you’re ready just go to the lobby and take it from there.”

Saihara nodded, standing up from his seat and thanking the nurse for her help tonight. He and Momota headed to the room in which Ouma currently was, an odd sense of familiarity creeping in as they walked through the corridors of the hospital.

Once they arrived at Ouma’s room they entered, Saihara gently knocking on the door before pushing it open to signal their presence. Ouma was sitting upright in his bed, staring down at the sheets covering the lower half of his body. There were bandages covering a large portion of his head, his hair sticking out at unnatural angles. A blank, almost unreadable expression was plastered on his face, though a twinge of confusion was apparent. He turned towards the other occupants of the room, his expression unchanging.

“Saihara-chan…? Momota-chan?” Ouma’s voice was small and meek, completely unlike his usual self. Wide eyes darted between Saihara and Momota, blinking slowly. After belatedly registering their presence, he gave a toothy grin. “There you guys are! I missed you!” He drawled, a bit of vigor having made its way back into his words.

A beat of silence passed, a wave of confusion stretching over Ouma’s mind.

“But… What am I doing back here?” Brows knitted in confusion, he winced as he tilted his head a bit. “My head hurts…”

Ouma placed a hand on the back of his head, allowing him to identify the source of his pain. After feeling around for a bit he began to pick and pull at the bandages covering his head, averse to the way they constricted his head. Saihara noticed this and dashed over to his side, gently grabbing his arm and pulling it away from the bandages.

“Heyyyy…” Ouma frowned, “What gives?”

Saihara felt his heart skip a beat at how adorable Ouma looked. His expressions lacked their typical mischievousness, making him more genuine and easy to read. Not that Saihara didn’t adore his usual mannerisms, but something about this Ouma seemed different, someone he wanted to cherish and protect until he felt well again.

He was thankful that Ouma was too out of it to notice him blushing.

Setting his arm down on the bed, Saihara reached for the edge of the sheets and pulled them over Ouma’s torso.

“You have a concussion, Ouma-kun. You need to rest.” He placed a pillow a bit higher up than the others so that it would reach Ouma’s head, successfully tucking him into the bed.

“Mmm… Only because Saihara-chan tucked me in so nicely…” Ouma closed his eyes, making himself comfortable under the sheets.

Saihara had to fight the urge to crawl into the bed with him, remembering that Momota was still with them.

A few moments later they heard Ouma snoring, signaling that they were good to go.

“Alright, I think he’s fine for now.” Saihara stepped away from the bed and turned to face Momota, who raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. Saihara felt his face heat up once more, flushing in embarrassment.

“Yeah, after you did everything except kiss him good night.” Momota snorted.

“W-Whatever!” Saihara shamefully avoided eye contact, causing Momota to laugh. “We should probably go now, then…”

After letting out a yawn, Momota replied. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go, sidekick!”

Momota exited the room, Saihara trailing behind. Before shutting the door he gave Ouma a wistful look, wishing him the best in his recovery. Momota noticed but said nothing, choosing to patiently wait for Saihara to close the door and exit as well.

A few seconds later, Saihara gently closed the door to Ouma’s room and met Momota in the hall.

“You good?” Momota asked, voice full of concern for his sidekick.

“Yeah, I just…” Saihara trailed off before continuing, “I just hope he feels better soon.”

“Don’t worry, of course he will!” Momota comforted, radiating positivity as always. “I believe in my sidekick!”

Saihara nodded, giving a short hum of agreement as he and Momota exited the hospital, stepping into the car that was designated for them.

Neither Saihara nor Momota were able to get much sleep that night, both of them plagued by thoughts of how they could’ve prevented or remedied the situation which led to Ouma getting hurt last night. In Momota’s case, his thoughts were about how he should have acted earlier, and how he should have realized something was wrong sooner. Saihara, however, was haunted by thoughts of failure and uselessness, having just stood there doing nothing.

I must’ve looked so pathetic… If Ouma-kun finds out how weak I was he’ll be so disappointed in me…

But there was no worrying about that now, he supposed. There was nothing he could do to change the past, so he might as well move on and resolve to never allow something like that to happen again.

That’s right…! I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens to Ouma-kun again!

Clenching his fists in determination, Saihara was quickly brought back to the reality that he was in. Currently, Saihara was sitting in Ouma’s assigned hospital room waiting for the latter to wake up. Momota was there as well, pacing back and forth. They had returned to the hospital the next morning as promised, but there was little they could do to check on Ouma if he was sleeping. Nonetheless, they weren’t going to just leave without talking to him, so they waited.

In order to pass the time more quickly, Momota initiated a quiet conversation with Saihara, the two of them talking about pretty much anything but the subject at hand. Despite losing his grip on his emotions last night, Momota seemed pretty much back to normal, optimism radiating from his presence. Although Saihara was still stewing in his guilt, he appreciated the attempts on Momota’s part to drag his mind out of the gutter and talk about something more lighthearted.

The two boys continued talking, and before they realized it about half an hour had passed.

Ouma stirred in his bed, not fully awake but not fully asleep either. Burying his face into his pillow, he attempted to block out the voices he heard and fall back asleep.

Wait… Voices?

Slowly opening his eyes, Ouma’s surroundings gradually came into his line of vision. The first thing he noticed was that his head hurt a lot, but he chose to ignore this as best as he could for now. Looking around, he saw Saihara sitting down in a chair on the side of the room and Momota standing by the door, having stopped pacing momentarily to verify if Ouma was awake.

“You’re awake!” Momota beamed, “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.” He yawned, “What the hell happened to me? Why am I…” He gestured to the room around them, “...here?”

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Saihara leaned forward in his chair, concern painting over his features.

“Last night…?” Ouma stared at his lap, trying to remember what possibly could have happened to him. His memory was still fuzzy, but there were a few moments that he remembered. “I remember we were doing Momota-chan’s stupid training last night… and then I think I remember talking to Saihara-chan here?” He looked to them for approval, hoping that he was correct and, in fact, not going crazy and making stuff up.

They looked genuinely surprised, not having expected Ouma to remember that much. It was a pleasant surprise, however, but Ouma still failed to recall the most important event of last night.

Saihara nodded, affirming Ouma’s statement. “That’s right, Momota-kun and I visited you here and told you that you had a concussion.” Ouma blinked at him, his memory coming back to him. “You don’t remember what happened to you last night, do you?” Saihara asked reluctantly, not looking forward to being the bearer of bad news.

Ouma nodded, still confused. He winced a bit, his head throbbing even as he shook it slowly. He did his best to hide the pain, however, never having necessarily liked being vulnerable.

Saihara looked to Momota, seeing if he wanted to be the one to tell Ouma what happened. But Momota simply looked away, pretending not to notice him. With a sigh, Saihara explained what happened.

“Two men attacked you last night with a metal bat, giving you a pretty bad concussion.” He looked towards Ouma, who refused to look him in the eye. “Momota-kun and I saw them and they ran away before things could escalate, but… you were unconscious when we found you.”

It was silent for a moment before anyone said anything, Ouma taking the time to process Saihara’s words.

Ouma snorted, “Well that would explain why my head hurts so much!” He smiled, flashing them his typical mischievous grin. “But seriously, I’m fine! See!” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, Saihara immediately springing forward to stop him.

“O-Ouma-kun, I really think you should rest instead of-”

“Sowwy Saihara-chan, but I feel great!” He wobbled a bit after pushing Saihara away, struggling to find his footing. But once he found it he stood proudly, one hand on his chest. “In fact, I’ve never felt better! So when can I get outta here?”

Saihara looked to Momota for help, who simply gawked. Neither of them had expected Ouma to bounce back so quickly, and they weren’t quite sure how to proceed.

“Well… The nurses did say they could discharge you today…” Saihara started. “But I still don’t think it’s a good idea! You need to rest, and-”

“Yeah, yeah, yada yada! I’ll be fine, Saihara-chan!” Ouma insisted. “So let’s go!”

Ouma dashed out of the room, Saihara and Momota having no choice but to tentatively follow behind.

Reluctantly, and after quite a bit of protest from Saihara and Momota, the nurses ended up discharging Ouma from the hospital, sending the three of them back to their apartment.

The apartment was rather quiet, what with Momota being out with Harukawa and Ouma resting in the lower bunk bed. Saihara, however, busied himself with reading a mystery novel to get his mind off of what had happened recently.

Ouma spent most of the day sleeping, his concussion really having taken a toll on him. He could lie about being fine all he wanted, but even he conceded that he needed some rest after a while. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t bored, though.

With a sigh, Ouma rolled over in bed to face the center of the room. He had been unable to sleep for the past half hour, leaving him wide awake. One person could only sleep for so long, after all.

He glanced at the digital clock besides Momota’s bed, taking note of the time.

12:40 pm

Now that he thought of it, Ouma realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. His stomach growled lowly, signaling that it was in need of food. Normally this wouldn’t bother Ouma too much; He was used to going without meals. But being hungry would be the perfect excuse to get up right now, so he took full advantage of it.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Ouma ignored his pounding headache and rose from the bed, stepping into the living room. He knew that Momota was out right now, so he would only have to avoid Saihara and his constant lectures that he should be resting as much as possible. Peering to the left as he tiptoed to the kitchen, he took note of Saihara’s position on the couch. If he acted as stealthily as possible he would have no problem obtaining food and making his way back to the bedroom without drawing Saihara’s attention.

Ouma had successfully made his way to the kitchen, carefully opening a cabinet so that it wouldn’t creak. He observed its contents, trying to decide on what to eat when his eyes landed on a simple can of soup. He needed something hearty enough to hold him over for a while, and something that he could just eat as it is. Retrieving the can from the shelf, he closed the cabinet and went to grab a spoon. He could open the can when he was back in his room, since he would have a greater chance of hiding the sound from further away. Now all he had to do was grab a spoon and-

“Ouma-kun.”

Ouma jumped, nearly dropping the can of soup he held. Saihara was standing right across from him in the kitchen, arms crossed and a disappointed look on his face. Ouma gave him a guilty smile, knowing that he’d been caught.

“Heeeey, Saihara-chan… What’s up?” Ouma hid the can of soup behind his back, although they both knew that Saihara had already seen it.

He sighed, “Ouma-kun, if you were hungry I would have had no problem making something for you…” Saihara walked over and took the can of soup out of Ouma’s hands, placing it on the counter and cracking it open. “Now go rest. I’ll cook this and bring it to you in a bit.”

Ouma pouted childishly, crossing his arms. “But I don’t wanna! It’s so boring having to rest all day! And besides, my headache is totally gone by now! I’m healed!”

A lie, of course. Ouma’s head was killing him, but he couldn’t have Saihara be finding that out.

“Ouma-kun.” Saihara turned back around to face Ouma, deadpanning. “If you’re going to act like a child then I’m going to treat you like one. Now go to bed, or else-”

“Or else what, huh?” Ouma quipped sassily. “What’s the big, bad, scary Saihara-chan gonna do to- Woah!”

Saihara had walked over and picked Ouma up effortlessly, carrying him bridal style. He silently thanked Momota for all those workout sessions, the result being more than satisfying.

“Saihara-chan?!” Ouma instinctively threw his arm around Saihara’s shoulder, his other hand gripping the front of Saihara’s shirt tightly. He felt his face flush at the sudden proximity and contact. “W-What’re you doing?!”

“You need to rest!” Saihara repeated, exasperated. He began walking over to the bedroom, tightening his grip on Ouma. “I know you don’t like being vulnerable, but please let me take care of you just this once.”

Ouma chose not to reply, the feeling of Saihara’s body heat radiating so close to him sending shivers down his spine. Sleeping next to Saihara was one thing, but it wasn’t like they made much physical contact with one another. This, however, was a whole new level of proximity for the touch-starved Ouma.

After arriving at the bedroom, Saihara set Ouma down on the bed gently. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with your food, okay?”

Ouma nodded meekly, avoiding eye contact.

Once Saihara was out of the room, Ouma buried his face in the pillows once more.

How dare Saihara be so charmingly handsome? Who does he think he is, carrying me around like I’m some little kid… How embarrassing!

A few minutes later, Saihara returned with a bowl of soup, visibly steaming, and a small bowl full of crackers. He set it down on the bedside table, clearing a place for it.

“Took you long enough! I was starving!” Ouma complained, eagerly sitting up and reaching for the soup.

Saihara rolled his eyes, knowing that Ouma was lying. “Be careful, it’s still hot.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” Ouma reached for the soup anyway, putting a spoonful in his mouth without even blowing on it. He immediately brought a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

Saihara laughed, knowing that this would happen no matter how much he told Ouma not to do it. He cracked open a cold water bottle, handing it to Ouma.

“Man, that soup was hot!” Ouma exclaimed, having gulped down the spoonful of soup in his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I did tell you. But you ignored me.” Saihara cooly stated, though his voice still betrayed a sense of warmth and compassion for Ouma. “How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, I feel suuuper great now that Saihara-chan is taking care of me!” Ouma replied cheerfully. “You’re like an adorable little housewife!”

Saihara smiled cockily, carefully observing Ouma’s face for a reaction. “Not as adorable as you.”

...What?!

Ouma whipped his head towards Saihara, his face flushing immediately. Realizing just how embarrassed he must look he crawled back under the covers, facing the wall. Saihara just chuckled, deciding not to tease him about it for now.

“I’ll be back in a bit to check on you, okay?” Saihara took one more glance at Ouma before leaving, noticing how small he looked curled up underneath the covers like that. Realizing that he was starting to stare, he quickly exited.

Now that Saihara was gone, Ouma peeked back up from under the covers. He pulled the bedside table a bit closer so that he could eat his now cool soup, occasionally glancing at the door to check for Saihara’s presence.

...Maybe having a concussion won’t be so bad after all…

Chapter Text

Approximately two weeks had passed since Ouma had sustained his concussion, giving him ample time to recover. During these two weeks he mostly rested and stayed in the apartment, albeit hesitantly. Ouma was impatient; He wanted to be out and about as if he had never been injured in the first place, but Saihara and Momota had other plans for him. It was incredibly boring to him, but Ouma reluctantly saw the point in their strictness as he soon felt better.

Now, however, he was itching for a chance to leave the apartment. Even if it was something as mundane as joining Saihara and Momota for their nightly training once more, Ouma craved an excuse to get out of the apartment and do something. What he would do, however, remained a mystery.

That was, until he overheard a rather interesting conversation between Saihara and Momota.

”Hey, sidekick!” Momota’s voice greeted enthusiastically, “Got any plans this weekend?”

Saihara peered over his mug of coffee, carefully recalling if he had any plans coming up. “Not that I know of.” He observed Momota’s cheerful demeanor, expecting an invitation of some sort.

“Great!” Momota slammed his fists together in excitement, grinning at his sidekick. “Then you and I are going to check out the game room on Saturday!”

“The game room…?” Saihara repeated Momota’s words back to him, faintly recalling that the apartment complex had a game room reserved for leisurely activities. “That’s right! I remember the paperwork we had to fill out mentioning a recreation room of some sort…”

“Yep! What do you say?” Momota beamed, radiating liveliness.

Saihara gave a soft smile, “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Great! It’ll be just the two of us then so don’t forget!” Momota told Saihara, who nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Ouma stood right before the threshold of the living room, fingertips lingering on the door to the bedroom. He smirked to himself, a plan manifesting itself in his mind. At least he wouldn’t be bored this Saturday, he thought.

The awaited day came quicker than expected, Ouma’s mind buzzing with excitement. He glanced at the clock before practically leaping out of bed, making sure everything was going according to plan.

Saihara-chan and Momota-chan should be in the game room right now… Time to get to work!

The layout of the apartment complex only facilitated Ouma’s plans, the game room being located in the basement while the apartments and common room were ground level. He quickly set his plan in motion, knocking on Amami’s door.

After a few short knocks the door opened, revealing a nonchalant Amami.

“Hey, Ouma-kun. What’s up?” He leaned casually against the door, awaiting Ouma’s response.

“Amami-chan, I need your help!” Ouma balled his hands into fists, looking up at Amami with pleading eyes. “It’s an emergency!”

“Oh? And what could that be?” Amami chuckled to himself, unfazed by Ouma’s antics.

“Saihara-chan and Momota-chan are hanging out in the game room without us!” Ouma frowned.

“And this is an emergency because…?” Amami asked, not following Ouma’s logic.

“Because...” Ouma smirked, “We can’t let them have fun without us, riiiight?”

“Okay…” Amami replied, starting to put the pieces together. “So you’re suggesting we show up and crash their hangout?”

“Not just us!” Ouma grinned, beaming up at him. “Help me gather the rest of the guys! Pwetty pwease?”

Amami snorted, now fully understanding Ouma’s plan. While he could chalk it up to his typical mischievousness all he wanted to, it was clear that he missed spending time with everyone despite their grudges. He nodded, agreeing to Ouma’s plan.

“Yay! Amami-chan is the best accomplice ever!” Ouma cheered.

Amami cocked an eyebrow, “Accomplice?”

“Yep! Now come on, we’ve got a party to crash!” Ouma grinned, having successfully gained Amami’s cooperation.

The two of them thus set out to gather the remaining boys and bring them to the game room, Saihara and Momota blissfully unaware of what was going on.

The game room was full of various means of entertainment, such as a ping pong table, a foosball table, a pool table, and an overabundance of couches and other forms of seating. Saihara and Momota stood at each end of the ping pong table, paddles in hand.

“I win… Again.” Saihara gave a sly smirk, picking up the ping pong ball.

“T-That’s because I was going easy on ya!” Momota declared, aiming to save his dignity. “One more round!”

Saihara chuckled, choosing not to point out the fact that Momota said the same exact thing after the last round. “Sure.”

Raising his paddle in the air with one hand and holding the ping pong ball in another, Saihara prepared to serve and start the next match. But just as he was about to strike the ball after tossing it in the air, the doors to the game room swung open. Saihara fumbled with the ball as it fell to the ground, instead turning his attention to the now open doors.

“Guess whooooo!” Ouma sang as he stood proudly in front of the open doors, the rest of the boys standing behind him.

“Ouma?! What do you think you’re-” Momota began, only to be cut off by an impatient Ouma.

“Hush, Momota-chan! I’m still mad at you for making plans to go to the game room without me- I mean, us!” Ouma pouted, haughtily stalking over to the ping pong table.

The other boys filed into the room, following Ouma. Shinguji and Hoshi seated themselves on the couch, having come here against their will more than anything. Meanwhile, Gokuhara explored the many different games set up in the room with Kiibo following him, offering him an explanation and answering any questions he had, having studied thoroughly about human forms of entertainment.

“Sorry about that.” Amami chuckled.

“Wha-?! Amami, you helped him?!” Momota was more dumbfounded than anything, surprised that Ouma managed to pull this off.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty determined about crashing your private little hangout session.” He approached the ping pong table, picking up a spare paddle. “Since we’re all here, how about a game of ping pong?”

“Ooh, ooh, I wanna play!” Ouma excitedly searched for another paddle, holding it up proudly once he found it.

Momota grinned, “You guys are on! Shuichi, come on my side! We can take ‘em!”

“We’ll see about that.” Amami retorted, getting into position along the other side of the table with Ouma.

Saihara held up the ping pong ball, preparing to serve it. “Ready?”

The members of the other team nodded, Saihara promptly serving the ball. A rally quickly formed, mostly between Saihara and Amami. Ouma would jump in and hit the ball whenever it was on his side, both him and Amami staying on their designated sides. Noticing that Momota was sitting back and letting his sidekick do all the work, Ouma hit the ball straight towards him. Momota fumbled for a moment before haphazardly striking the ball, sending it flying over Ouma and Amami’s heads.

“Hey, that wasn’t fair!” Momota protested.

Ouma snorted, “Last time I checked there are two members on a team, Momota-chan! Stop making Saihara-chan pick up your slack just because you suck!”

“I don’t suck! It’s just our strategy!” Momota argued vaguely, “You’ll see!”

Amami had retrieved the ball from the other side of the room, holding it in his hand. Once Ouma and Momota had stopped bickering he served it, starting another round. Momota received the ball, striking it with a particularly fired up exclamation. Ouma rolled his eyes, hitting the ball back with ease. Another rally started, only to end when Amami sent the ball right in between Saihara and Momota, causing both of them to hesitate in receiving it.

Ouma gave an impressed whistle, “Looks like I chose the right teammate! No one beats Amami-chan!”

Watching Ouma and Amami share an excited high five, Saihara couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Were him and Amami always this close? It was just a game of ping pong anyway, it’s not like it was a big deal…

Saihara was brought out of his thoughts upon hearing none other than Amami’s voice.

“You’re pretty good at this, Saihara-kun.” he complimented.

“Thanks…” Saihara awkwardly replied, still staring at the ground in thought.

“Both of you seem to have a knack for this, if my opinion means anything.” Hoshi’s deep voice spoke, eyeing Saihara and Amami as he stood up from his seat and walked over to them. “I may not truly be the Ultimate Tennis Pro anymore, but I’ve still got some skill when it comes to these types of games. I know talent when I see it.”

“W-What about me?” Momota asked, seeking validation of his own skills.

Hoshi shrugged, “Not everyone is meant for this, kid. No sweat.”

While Momota stood there in shock, Ouma proposed an idea. “Hey, Hoshi-chan! Why dontcha go up against Amami-chan and Saihara-chan?”

Hoshi thought for a moment before responding, “I’m a bit rusty, but… if that’s what you want to see then I don’t see why not.” He gave a small smile, his ever-present love for tennis, even if in ping pong form, still palpable.

Saihara and Amami also agreed, lining themselves up to play against the former Ultimate Tennis Pro. Ouma stood with the still sulking Momota alongside the other edge of the table, eager to watch the game.

Hoshi promptly served the ball, striking it with enough force and speed that neither Saihara nor Amami could react in time. It was silent for a moment, with even Shinguji, Gokuhara and Kiibo looking on in awe.

“Woah..! How cool!” Ouma cheered. “Do it again!”

“Heh, sorry about that…” Hoshi apologized, “Guess my instincts took over for a second there.”

Saihara and Amami shared a nervous look, simultaneously realizing what they had gotten themselves into. Nonetheless, they continued the game, Hoshi promising to take it down a notch. The rest of the boys watched on, fascinated at how Hoshi’s tennis skills translated into also being great at ping pong.

Many rounds later, Hoshi decided to end his brutal winning streak and call it a day. Saihara and Amami thankfully agreed, both of them exhausted.

The rest of the boys were ready to head back as well, everyone saying their goodbyes before heading out. Gokuhara even bowed and thanked the others for inviting him, stating that he had such a great time despite not actually participating in their games.

Saihara looked towards Ouma, seeking an opportunity to speak to him in private. The boy in question was currently gushing over Hoshi, praising him for his superb ping pong skills. After Hoshi said his goodbyes to Ouma, Saihara swooped in.

“Ah, Ouma-kun…? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Saihara asked him.

“Sure!” Ouma chirped, “Anything for my beloved Saihara-chan!”

There it was again, those honey-laced words that made Saihara’s heart swirl with affection. For a moment he caught himself wishing those words would only be spoken to him, however he quickly chastised himself for having such selfish thoughts.

Once the room was empty asides from the two of them, Saihara tried to speak but struggled to find his words. He had so many things to say, leaving him unsure of where to begin. Forcing himself to speak, he said exactly what he was thinking.

“I… have a lot to say, but I’m not exactly sure where to begin…” Saihara admitted, feeling the power of the moment slip through his fingers.

Ouma tensed, his anxiety about the lack of control over the situation beginning to get to him. He wasn’t exactly sure where Saihara was going with this, and that scared him.

Amidst Ouma’s silence, Saihara spoke once more. “I’m really happy that you’re feeling better. I… After what happened to you the other day, I was just so worried, and…” Saihara instinctively clenched his fists as he spoke, being overcome with emotion. He didn’t want to overwhelm Ouma or, even worse, bore him with his outburst of emotion, so he kept it simple. “I’m just so happy to have you here with me, Ouma-kun.” He smiled, attempting to put the blank-faced Ouma at ease.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of them speaking. Ouma repeated Saihara’s words over and over again in his mind, panicking at the fact that he had yet to respond. He didn’t want to seem uninterested, yet he didn’t want to pour his heart out either. Deciding that he had been quiet long enough, he told Saihara what he had been hinting at since the very beginning in a feeble attempt to gain control of the situation.

“I like you.”

Saihara paused for a moment, then chuckled. “I like you too, Ouma-kun. Like I said, I care about you a lot, and-”

“No, I mean I like you, Saihara-chan!” Ouma repeated, more emphatically this time.

Saihara froze, processing Ouma’s words. There’s no way he could be serious, right…?

“But that’s a lie, isn’t it?” Saihara gave a sad smile, wishing that Ouma’s words were indeed true. Someone like Ouma would never have feelings for him, he was way too shy and awkward for something like that to ever happen to him…

“Aw man, you caught me!” Ouma admitted cheerfully, ignoring the uncomfortable surge of negative emotions running through him. “I can’t get anything past Saihara-chan, now can I?” Before Saihara could respond, Ouma took off running towards the stairs, giving one last shout. “Welllll, I better get going now! See ya!” And with that, he ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, not wanting Saihara to see him cry.

God, I’m such a baby… What happened to the me during the killing game that could hide his emotions like a pro?

Meanwhile, Saihara stood dumbfounded in the game room all by himself.

Why did he just run off so suddenly? There’s no way he…

Saihara froze, not even letting himself finish that thought.

He felt himself start to panic as he acknowledged the fact that Ouma may have truly meant what he said a few moments ago, and it was his fault for screwing it up and accusing him of lying.

I have to find Ouma-kun, fast!

Saihara called his name and ran up the stairs, attempting to chase after him. There’s no way he could just let Ouma go like that, not when they were so close to revealing their true feelings about each other. With a newfound determination and a pinch of anxiety, Saihara set out to find Ouma and make things right between them.

Chapter Text

Finding Ouma proved to be much harder than expected, Saihara’s few moments of hesitation seeming to be all that the other boy needed to get a headstart. After he dashed up the stairs, Saihara was left with an empty corridor. The rest of the boys must have made their way back to their rooms already, as there was no one in sight.

The apartment complex wasn’t necessarily that big, leaving only a few places that Ouma could’ve gone. That is, if he was even in the apartment complex to begin with. Allowing himself to make the assumption that Ouma hadn’t gone far, Saihara set off to check the common room and the dorms, as well as asking the others if they had seen the other boy.

The more time that passed, the more frantic Saihara became. The puzzle pieces slowly started to click in his mind, cementing the fact that Ouma was indeed being genuine with his confession. And of course, Saihara had to accuse him of lying, only aiding in making the situation more of a mess. Nonetheless, there was nothing he could do now but pray that he would find Ouma soon so he could apologize to him.

Ouma had discovered this place not too long after moving into the apartment complex, his natural inclination to explore the place taking over. Right at the end of the hall where the dorms were located there was a closet, similar to the one in the hospital. Anyone else would’ve just ignored this, but Ouma, being naturally curious, felt compelled to investigate it. His suspicions as to where this door led were confirmed when he was met with a staircase, presumably leading up to the roof. He filed this information in the back of his head, storing it there for later use.

Right now was the perfect time to use that information, he thought to himself as he sat cross-legged near the edge of the roof. It wasn’t nearly as high up as the roof of the hospital was, and he wasn’t as scarily close to the edge as he was when he sat there, but it fulfilled its purpose of giving him a place to be alone with his thoughts.

Belatedly, he recalled the time when Saihara found him up on the roof and reassured him that he wasn’t alone. Ouma found himself missing the warmth of Saihara’s hand by his face, lingering there after gently tucking his hair behind his ear.

But now all that he felt was cold.

In a way, he supposed that he deserved this. Being alone had always been his default state of being, and he was a fool for believing that he could live otherwise. It was his fault for allowing himself to fall prey to the delusion that he could be loved by someone else, be wanted by someone else. Especially when that someone else was Saihara.

The truth was that Saihara deserved better than him. He deserved someone who didn’t come with so much baggage and so many layers of distrust, someone who was capable of loving him like he should be loved. Ouma could never be that person for Saihara.

Maybe it was better this way. Having Ouma’s impulsive and heartfelt confession be dismissed as a lie was logically the best thing that could happen, as the two of them could continue their lives being just friends and nothing more.

...So why did it hurt so much?

Smothering his feelings and lying to Saihara about his feelings was the best course of action, so why did it hurt so much?

Maybe he was tired of lying, parading around and disguising himself as someone that he wasn’t. But lying was all that he knew how to do. When he wasn’t lying he was running away from his problems, ignoring the pang in his chest when Saihara called out his name and chased after him.

Suppressing his emotions, running away, ignoring the pain- it was a vicious cycle of suffering for Ouma. But if bearing this pain meant that others could be happy he would willingly do so, subjecting himself to this torment until the day he dies. As long as Saihara was happy everything would be okay.

The plan was simple: Ouma would act as if nothing happened between him and Saihara, dodging any of the other boy’s attempts to bring up his confession. As far as Ouma was concerned, the whole exchange had never even happened in the first place. The purpose of this was to make sure Saihara was blissfully unaware of Ouma’s feelings, allowing him to live in peace while Ouma suffered internally. Everything would be fine that way.

But of course, the universe had other plans for him.

Saihara had been pacing throughout the apartment, having failed in locating Ouma. He knew that the other boy would have to return there eventually, so he waited.

And boy did Ouma keep him waiting.

It was long after Momota had gone to bed, the night stretching on uncomfortably. Saihara couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to, worry gnawing at his heart with every passing second. Had he really hurt Ouma so much that he didn’t even want to face him? Or was he just overthinking things and Ouma was completely fine?

No, there’s no way he isn’t upset… I’m almost certain that his confession was genuine.

As the implications of that statement became more apparent, the logical part of Saihara’s brain came to a screeching halt.

Wait a second… Ouma-kun has feelings for me?!

Eyes wide and face flushed, Saihara had to fight off his internal sense of doubt as he tried to calm himself down.

His brain immediately fired a plethora of responses to the conclusion he had just drawn, trying to convince him that he was wrong. But each and every one of these excuses was shot down with the logical facts of the situation.

If Ouma-kun was lying, why would he have run away like that? It just doesn’t make sense…

All feelings of drowsiness left his body as he was now alert, nervously chewing at his bottom lip as his brain frantically fired one thought after another.

But Ouma-kun having feelings for me doesn’t make sense either! Why would he even see me that way?! I’m so boring and awkward, and he’s so entertaining and smart… and cute…

Saihara was so engrossed with his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Ouma strategically opening the door as quietly as possible, slipping into the apartment without being detected.

Ouma had almost made it to the bedroom when the wooden floor beneath him creaked, signaling his presence. Saihara gave a surprised yelp, having been startled out of his thoughts of utter disbelief. He turned towards the source of the disturbance only to spot Ouma, who was standing there as nonchalantly as possible.

“Well if it isn’t my beloved Saihara-chan! I totally didn’t even see you there!” The sarcasm in his voice was evident, making it clear that he didn’t want to talk.

“Um… Ouma-kun? Can I-”

Ouma gave a theatrical yawn, cutting Saihara off mid-sentence.

“Wow, would you look at that! I’m beat!” He made his way to the bedroom, swinging open the door. “I better get to bed now! Good night, Saihara-chan!”

“W-Wait! About before-” Saihara desperately tried to gain Ouma’s attention, but it was no use.

“Oh, by the way!” Ouma drummed his fingers along the edge of the door, not even bothering to turn and face Saihara. “I’ll be sleeping in your bed again! Alone.”

The door to the bedroom was slammed shut, Ouma having no concern for the sleeping Momota. Meanwhile, Saihara stood there dumbfounded at how easily he was shut out.

With a sigh, he made himself comfortable on the couch, resigning himself to sleeping there as he was too cowardly to face Ouma once more.

This is gonna be harder than I thought…

The next few days were filled with similar encounters, in which Saihara attempted to bring up their conversation in the game room and Ouma came up with increasingly creative solutions as to why he couldn’t talk at the time.

When Saihara wasn’t trying to bring up what occurred between them, Ouma would act completely normal. But as soon as he tried changing the subject, Ouma would hit the abort button and immediately leave to go somewhere else. It didn’t help that Ouma was exceptionally observant, being able to detect whenever Saihara was about to bring up what happened. The ex-detective was never particularly good at hiding his emotions, after all.

The amount of times that Saihara failed to confront Ouma was starting to get ridiculous, making him almost consider dropping the subject completely. Almost.

But Saihara had a few ideas of his own, having figured out Ouma’s pattern by now. Every time he would even come close to having a serious talk with him, Ouma would bolt out of the room with some extravagant excuse after dismissing Saihara’s statements completely. If he was able to corner Ouma and leave him no means of escape, then Saihara could successfully spring the dreaded discussion upon him.

Although trapping him somewhere and forcing him to talk about something he clearly didn’t want to talk about seemed a bit cruel, it was inevitable as Ouma had left him no other choice. While he couldn’t guarantee that Ouma would cooperate once they were alone, the fact that they would be talking in the first place would be progress, even if it was only Saihara speaking.

Ignoring what had happened was simply not an option. Not when guilt overloaded Saihara’s brain every time he spoke with Ouma, wishing that he had handled the situation differently. He was going to fix this, and he was going to do it now.

Saihara glanced at the clock, taking note of the time. It was almost noon, and Ouma was usually awake by now. Normally, Saihara would also be waking up around now, but he hadn’t been sleeping as well the past few days after what happened. After excusing himself from the living room where he and Momota were, Saihara made his way to the bedroom to confront Ouma.

He could practically feel his heart thrumming against his ribcage as he slowly opened the door to the bedroom, the prospect of talking with Ouma about this sending flutters down his stomach. While it was true that Saihara had tried speaking with him about this many times, the reality that it was actually about to happen made him even more nervous than before. Nonetheless, he forced himself to continue, stepping into the bedroom gingerly.

“Ouma-kun?” Saihara spoke barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle the other boy. “Are you awake?”

Entering the room, Saihara saw Ouma sitting up in his bed, staring back at him tiredly. After a few beats of silence Ouma perked up, plastering a fake smile onto his face.

“Gooood morning, Saihara-chan!” he drawled cheerfully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Man, what time is it? I don’t know about you but I slept like a baby last night!” He stretched his arms out in front of him, yawning theatrically.

“Good morning.” Ignoring his shaking hands, Saihara closed the door behind him, standing in front of it and blocking off Ouma’s escape route. The other boy immediately recognized his intentions, eyes widening and body tensing noticeably. “Listen, Ouma-kun…” With a sigh, Saihara continued. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while but you kept avoiding me, so-”

“Hmm? I have nooo idea what you’re talking about!” Ouma sprung out of bed, approaching Saihara with a glare. “Maybe Saihara-chan needs to go back to bed since he keeps imagining things!”

Although he was smiling, his eyes betrayed feelings of anger and resentment as he stared daggers at Saihara, silently telling him to drop the subject and move out of the way. But Saihara was surprisingly stubborn, having been fed up with Ouma’s constant avoidance and running away. He crossed his arms, unmoving.

“I’m not imagining anything. I know exactly what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” Saihara refuted Ouma’s words, the other boy narrowing his eyes bitterly. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.” Saihara allowed his gaze to soften, attempting to put Ouma at ease. “I understand that this must be hard for you but I can’t let you keep running away from your feelings. Not when…”

Saihara clenched his fists, staring down at the ground. A flurry of emotions had overwhelmed him, clouding his mind. Meanwhile, Ouma was silent, giving Saihara time to collect his thoughts and put them into words.

After having adequate time to piece his thoughts together, Saihara looked back towards Ouma. “I-I care about you a lot, Ouma-kun. I like you a lot, too. And I’m sorry for not believing you the other day. I just…” Saihara gulped, fighting the urge to cry. “I find it so hard to believe that someone like you has feelings for someone like me. I’m so boring and awkward and I just don’t understand why-”

“Shh, it’s okay Saihara-chan.” Ouma was suddenly by his side, wiping away his tears. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here.”

Saihara gave a weak nod, leaning into the touch. Ouma wasn’t used to comforting others besides the standard affirmations, so he stood in silence as Saihara composed himself.

“Thank you, Ouma-kun.” Saihara sniffled, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have accused you of lying when you said that you liked me. I just couldn’t believe it, you know?” He gave a small smile, a hint of sadness still behind it. “But I should’ve known better… You’ve grown so much since the killing game, you wouldn’t lie about something like that. And then you ran away and I just felt awful… So I’m sorry. Again.”

Ouma stared at him blankly, hesitantly speaking.

“Geez, Saihara-chan… You don’t need to keep apologizing like that…”

He was silent for a moment before continuing, his expression shifting into something more serious.

“I’m sorry too. For avoiding you.” Ouma sighed, looking over his shoulder, “I guess I could’ve handled this a lot better… But where’s the fun in that?” He gave a sly smile, breathing a sigh of relief when Saihara smiled back, shaking his head.

“But seriously…” Ouma’s smile vanished, his serious expression returning. “I do really like you, Saihara-chan. And that’s not a lie.”

“I like you too, Ouma-kun. I think it’s cute how you always cling to me, and I really appreciate you being vulnerable with me… So if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to pursue a deeper relationship with you… O-Oh, but only if you want to, of course!” Saihara stammered.

When he looked back at Ouma he noticed that his face was flushed, accompanied by a small pout. Saihara was worried that he said something wrong, but then Ouma smiled ever so slightly, staring at the ground.

“Of course I would like that, you dummy…” he mumbled, almost going unheard by Saihara.

“R-Really?!” Saihara nearly shouted, giving a sheepish smile.

“Uh-huh!” Ouma affirmed proudly, “But only if Saihara-chan promises to buy me all the Panta in the world!”

Saihara chuckled, “Anything to make you happy.”

“Great!” Ouma skipped over to Saihara, suddenly embracing him. Saihara froze momentarily before wrapping his arms around Ouma, holding him even closer.

Ouma pulled away much too quickly for Saihara’s liking, leaving him craving more contact with the boy.

“Well don’t just stand there! We’ve got to get ready, right?” Ouma announced excitedly.

“Uhh, sure…” Saihara agreed confusedly. “Wait, what are we getting ready for exactly?”

“Our first date, of course!” Ouma frowned, his bottom lip quivering as crocodile tears threatened to stream down his face. “D-Don’t tell me… Saihara-chan doesn’t love me anymore?!”

Saihara chuckled at the other boy’s theatrics, shaking his head. “A first date sounds great. What do you want to do?”

“Hmm…” Ouma thought for a moment before settling on the easiest and quickest option, taking Saihara’s hand in his. “Close your eyes and come with me!”

Barely having time to protest against the sudden action or voice his confusion, Saihara was suddenly being dragged out of the apartment by an overly excited Ouma, their destination unknown. Wherever they were going was fine with Saihara, as he was content going anywhere as long as it was with Ouma.

“Open your eyes!”

Saihara did as he was told, opening his eyes and allowing himself to take in their surroundings. His eyes landed on a bench in the distance, surrounded by a plethora of green grasses as well as a walking path and even a fountain.

“The park?” Saihara wondered aloud, looking towards Ouma for confirmation.

“Yep!” Ouma chirped, “There’s a walking path that’ll take us through the whole park, so we can talk while we explore!”

“That’s right… We’ve come here for training so many times but we’ve never really explored the place.” Saihara added thoughtfully.

“Exactly! Now come on, let’s get going!” Ouma led Saihara towards the direction of the walking path, bouncing up and down eagerly.

Their hands still entwined with one another, they set about walking along the path. Every now and then they would pass some other couples or individuals walking down the path, who fortunately paid no attention to the two boys. The scenery of the park wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy, but it was a nice change of pace from being inside the apartment all of the time. There were bushes, trees, and various structures such as benches and small statues, the sun shining brightly and the breeze blowing ever so lightly.

As expected, Ouma carried most of the conversation, ranting to Saihara about anything and everything that came to mind, the other boy enjoying his company greatly. While the thought of being seen holding hands with someone in public made him quite nervous, the sight of Ouma’s brightly smiling face was more than enough to put his nerves at ease.

Being seen holding hands with Ouma wasn’t his only worry, however. Saihara couldn’t tell if it was due to his habit of overthinking or if it was due to his exceptional skills of observation, but he couldn’t help but worry about the other boy. Just yesterday he was avoiding Saihara at all costs, bottling up his feelings and avoiding confrontation. Although he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself right now, Saihara wondered if he was still holding back some of his true emotions. But now wasn’t the time to bring that, he supposed. They were having a great time together and Saihara didn’t intend on ruining the mood.

Eventually, the path they were walking on looped around and brought them back to their destination. The sun was just about to set, the breeze picking up as clouds gathered together in the sky. A few droplets of rain fell from the sky, interrupting Saihara and Ouma’s conversation.

Ouma stopped walking and stuck his hands out experimentally, not being surprised when more droplets of water landed on him. Meanwhile, Saihara gazed up at the clouds, taking note of how the sky darkened.

“We should hurry back… It looks like a storm is heading in.” Saihara observed.

Ouma nodded, quickening his pace as he and Saihara headed back to the apartment complex.

They had only been walking for a few moments when it started to downright pour, effectively soaking the both of them. Freezing in place due to sheer shock at the suddenness of it all, the two boys simply looked at each other, resigning themselves to their fate.

Then Ouma giggled.

“Are you…” Saihara blinked, trying to get water droplets out of his eyes so he could see clearly. “Are you laughing?”

“Nishishi, maybe I am!” Ouma stole Saihara’s jacket from him, running off with it. “But I think you have bigger problems right now!”

“Ugh, Ouma-kun, seriously?” Saihara gave chase, carefully avoiding the puddles that Ouma haphazardly stepped in. “Give that back! We need to get back to the apartment, now!”

Thankfully for Saihara, Ouma stopped running and held his jacket in front of him. Just as Saihara caught up to him he realized that he was holding it over a giant puddle that had formed, snickering deviously.

“Is something wrong, Saihara-chan?” he taunted, fully aware of what he was doing.

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara’s expression darkened.

“Yes?”

“Give it back.”

“Make me!”

Saihara lunged for his jacket, but he was too slow. His jacket fell into the puddle, and Saihara felt at least lucky that he had nothing in his pockets.

Rather than scolding Ouma for his childish behavior, Saihara smirked, feeling more playful now than ever. Ouma noticed this, feeling taken aback for a short moment before composing himself.

“You’re so gonna get it now.” Saihara pulled his jacket out of the puddle, slowly and ominously walking up to Ouma.

“Oh? What’re you gonna do, huh?” Ouma asked cockily.

His question was answered when Saihara quickly and swiftly wrapped the wet jacket around Ouma’s head, the jacket falling onto his shoulders and swallowing his small figure. Saihara laughed as Ouma peeled the jacket off of his head, tossing it back towards Saihara.

“Blegh! What was that for?!” Ouma complained, rubbing at his wet face.

“You wanted my jacket so badly I decided to give it to you.” Saihara commented slyly, causing Ouma to stick out his tongue at him.

“Fine, fine… You win!” Ouma pouted, “Just take me back to the apartment already, I’m starting to get cold!” He accentuated his words with a shiver, making Saihara feel a twinge of guilt for what he did.

“Sure… And I’m sorry for wrapping your head with my soaking wet jacket.” Despite his words, Saihara couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Only someone like Ouma could bring out this side of him.

“You better be! Now let’s go!” Ouma took Saihara’s hand once more, the two of them making their way back to the apartment complex.

It may have been cold, rainy and dark out, but neither of them regretted coming to the park that day.

Chapter Text

Ouma tossed and turned restlessly in bed, finding himself unable to fall back asleep after his body decided to rudely awaken him for no good reason at all. Insomnia had always been rather common for him during the killing game, and waking up from the simulation did nothing to alleviate this problem. At the very least, not being able to sleep meant that he would be able to avoid whatever nightmares his mind had maliciously decided to subject him to. But after having experienced night after night of fitful slumbers, Ouma’s sleep deprived mind had betrayed him and craved nothing more than a few hours of peaceful shut-eye.

Taking note of how it was half past four in the morning, Ouma belatedly wondered if it was even worth it to try and get any more sleep. Soon enough, alarms would be ringing throughout the entire apartment complex, signaling the start of the day long before the sun had even risen.

The girls had apparently set up a whole entire camping trip for themselves, even going so far as to contact Team Danganronpa for transportation and such. Last night, Tojo had so graciously decided to inform the boys of said trip, asking if they wanted to tag along. Having nothing better to do and nowhere else to go, they accepted, not knowing that it would require them being ready to go this early. But despite the obvious inconvenience to their sleeping schedules, the boys did as they were told, preparing to wake up bright and early.

Not only was Ouma not a fan of waking up so early, but he was not necessarily too fond of the outdoors either. After the “insect meet and greet” during the simulation, he never wanted to see another bug ever again. But unfortunately for him, he didn’t have much say on this matter as it was already decided that everyone would be attending the getaway. Although Ouma could hypothetically refuse to go on said trip, he would be left alone in the apartment complex all by himself for who knows how long… It was a lose-lose situation, but at least by going on the trip he could spend more time with Saihara instead of being bored and lonely.

Ouma allowed himself to recollect the events of the past few weeks, the memories of his first official date with Saihara still fresh in his mind. After they had arrived at the apartment complex, soaking wet and shivering, they couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of what their first date had been. It may have been silly, and nonetheless chaotic, but Ouma wouldn’t have it any other way.

Saihara felt the same way, enjoying the other boy’s company regardless of how hectic it may be at times. The whirlwind and mystery that was Kokichi Ouma was ever so intriguing to Saihara, luring him in with every word he spoke and every lie he told. He wanted to be the one to uncover that mystery, to understand the reasoning behind Ouma’s each and every action, regardless of how minor or major said action was. But above all, he wanted to protect the other boy from any sadness or harm that might come his way, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Although they were as far away from danger as they could possibly be, that didn’t eliminate the trauma of being put through a killing game simulation where the excruciating pain of death and losing the ones you care for was as real as ever. Saihara was acutely aware of the fact that Ouma intended on hiding his suffering, smiling through the pain as if nothing was wrong. But he knew better than to believe Ouma’s lies by now, instead offering him a shoulder to cry on in any time of need.

Normally, Ouma wasn’t too fond of the idea of someone being able to see through all of his lies, but he could make an exception for Saihara. In fact, when it came to Saihara, he was actually glad that he could see through a majority of his lies. It led to a playful banter between the two, creating a never-ending game of cat-and-mouse in which both participants were eager to participate. While Saihara’s ability to see through his lies had led to some situations in which he was uncomfortably vulnerable and had to face his emotions, Ouma still found himself craving to be closer and closer to the other boy, slowly taking off his mask of fake smiles and presenting to him his true feelings. The thought of doing so may have been scary, but having Saihara by his side made him feel like he could do anything.

Although he would probably never voice these thoughts aloud, Saihara would be smart enough to eventually figure all of this out, had he not done so already. Not only was he incredibly observant, but his knack for figuring out the truth behind Ouma’s lies led to an unspoken understanding between them; Ouma felt comfortable displaying vulnerability in front of Saihara, and both of them knew this.

Mulling around these thoughts in his head, Ouma decided to rest his eyes for a few moments. It couldn’t hurt to sleep for a little while longer, he supposed…

Just as he had settled into a peaceful slumber, the sound of an obnoxiously loud alarm blaring sounded throughout the bedroom. Being a light sleeper, Ouma woke up immediately, cursing the universe for its awful timing. He felt Saihara stir besides him, a surprising feat given how heavy of a sleeper he was. The movement then ceased, Saihara once more curling up under the covers as Ouma observed him, sitting upright.

“You two slept in the same bed again?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Ouma witnessed a groggy-looking Momota eyeing him suspiciously as he made his bed.

“Duh! It’s easier to kill someone in their sleep, after all!” Ouma tried to sound as chipper as possible, but he couldn’t help the edge of tiredness that crept into his voice as he spoke. “Figures I would have to spell that out to somebody as stupid as you, Momota-chan!”

“Hey, I’m not stupid!” Momota protested, defending himself. “And I’m not an idiot, either! I know you were lying about trying to kill Shuichi just now... Something’s going on between you two and I’m gonna get to the bottom of it!” He asserted his statement confidently, pointing an accusing finger at Ouma.

“Nishishi, good luck with that!” Ouma taunted, sticking his tongue out at Momota.

“What are you two yelling about…?” Saihara spoke quietly, his voice laced with drowsiness as he now sat up in bed and looked at the other two boys.

There was a slight frown prominent on Saihara’s face, making him look even more adorable than usual when coupled with the fact that his normally tame hair was sticking up in random directions. Realizing he was staring at Saihara just a bit too much, Ouma abruptly looked away. Momota looked away as well, feeling guilty for waking up Saihara in such a rude manner.

“S-Sorry, Shuichi… Didn’t mean to wake you up there…” Momota apologized sheepishly.

Saihara hummed softly, followed by a quick yawn. “It’s okay… I would’ve had to get up sooner or later anyway.” He offered a quick smile in reassurance.

“Well if my sidekick is okay with it then I’m okay with it!” Momota grinned, before glancing at the clock. “We should probably get going soon… Don’t wanna keep the others waiting for too long!”

Saihara nodded in agreement, “Yeah… We better get ready soon, then.”

“Dibs on the bathroom!” Momota declared, running off to go get ready first while Saihara and Ouma got ready to pack their belongings.

At least, that’s what Saihara intended to do before he felt a pair of thin arms wrap around him from behind.

“Ouma-kun…?” Saihara was almost completely out of bed until Ouma pulled him back in, causing him to land on the mattress with a soft thud.

Regaining his bearings, Saihara opened his mouth to chastise Ouma but froze when he saw the look on the other boy’s face.

Rather than wearing an expression of mischief, Ouma’s face was blank as he snuggled up next to Saihara, wasting no time in getting comfortable in bed once more.

“Stay with meeeee…” Ouma mumbled into Saihara’s shoulder, warm breath tickling pale skin.

Saihara absent-mindedly ran his fingers through Ouma’s tousled locks, sighing softly to himself.

“You know I’d much rather stay in bed with you, but we made a promise to the girls and I don’t want to keep them waiting-”

“Then let them wait.” Ouma said firmly, pouting.

Saihara chuckled, peering down at Ouma. “You know we can’t do that…” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I promise I’ll cuddle with you while we’re on the bus.”

Ouma immediately perked up, trying to hide his excitement as he looked up at Saihara with big puppy dog eyes. “Promise?”

“Of course.” Saihara slowly sat up, pulling Ouma up with him. “Now let’s go get ready, okay?”

“Fiiine…” Ouma pretended to pout, but Saihara could still see the warmth dusting his cheeks.

The bus was already ready and waiting for them outside of the apartment complex, the tired boys and girls slowly approaching from a distance. As they all walked together, the boys unmistakably noticed Chabashira glaring at them, presumably for ruining their original plan of having this be a trip for the girls only.

“Stupid degenerate males…” Chabashira mumbled under her breath, which went unheard by the boys.

Akamatsu approached her, a tentative smile gracing her lips. “Lighten up, Chabashira-san!” She encouraged, though Chabashira’s mind seemed to be elsewhere.

“Nyeh… There’s no use trying to cheer her up when she’s like this…” Yumeno emerged from Chabashira’s other side, weakly reasoning with Akamatsu.

“I-I see…” She frowned, as being unable to remedy the situation disheartened her. Nonetheless, she kept a bright spirit. “Well if there’s anything I can do to help don’t hesitate to ask, alright?” Akamatsu gave a firm smile, more confident in her efforts this time.

Much to her surprise, Chabashira nodded, flashing her a half-smile. “Mhm! Thank you, Akamatsu-san! I apologize for worrying you!”

“No worries!” Akamatsu grinned, feeling satisfied at last.

After a few more moments of walking, they arrived at and boarded the large bus. The interior of the bus was furnished with fuzzy and comfortable looking cushions, as well as air conditioners lined along the ceiling. It wasn’t particularly hot where they were currently located, but as they drove south the weather would continue to grow warmer, warranting the use of the air conditioners.

The bus was large enough so that everyone could occupy their own seat if they wanted to, though the students that were romantically involved with one another chose to sit with each other, Ouma and Saihara being no exception. The smaller of the two had practically draped himself over the other, succeeding in flustering him.

“O-Ouma-kun, cut it out! People are starting to stare…” Saihara pointed out as he noticed Harukawa glaring at them from over Momota’s shoulder. Their eyes locked, and said glare was replaced by a softer expression, presumably one of sympathy for Saihara as he had his chaotic boyfriend to deal with.

“But you promised you would cuddle with me!” Ouma practically wailed, drawing even more attention to them.

“I will! Just… hush. Please. You’re causing a scene.” Saihara whispered, trying to de-escalate the situation.

Wordlessly, Ouma proceeded to give Saihara his personal space back, even if it was only a little bit.

The next few hours passed by at a decent pace, most people opting to sleep to pass the time. Despite claiming that he would never fall asleep and miss out on snuggling with his beloved, Ouma dozed off soon enough, though Saihara didn’t mind. But as they began to approach their destination, Ouma awoke, half-heartedly chastising Saihara for letting him break his promise.

Currently, the two were enjoying the peaceful silence that existed on the bus before the chaos of what this trip entailed would erupt. Saihara pulled out his phone, trying to check the weather in their location after wondering how hot it would be where they were. Unfortunately for him, the weather app wouldn’t load due to poor connection.

“Want me to try?” Ouma offered, taking out his phone as well. Without waiting for an answer, he went ahead and opened up the weather app on his own phone.

“Wait… What was that?” Saihara asked confusedly.

“Hmm? What was what?” Ouma responded, pausing his movements.

Saihara pressed the home button on Ouma’s phone, scrolling past the apps so that he could get a clear view of his lock screen.

“Your lock screen…” Saihara wondered aloud, “What is that?”

Noticing the puzzled expression on Saihara’s face, Ouma immediately burst out laughing.

“It’s a meme, Saihara-chan!” Ouma explained, though the perplexed look on Saihara’s face persisted.

“A meme?” Saihara repeated.

“Oh my god…” Ouma replied in awe, “Don’t tell me that you don’t know what a meme is!”

“I, uh… Sorry?” Saihara chuckled lightly, apologizing nonetheless.

After making a bold declaration to help Saihara become “more cultured”, Ouma spent the next few minutes showing him a variety of memes to broaden his understanding of the term. Although Saihara couldn’t say that he understood them, he had to admit that Ouma’s tenacity was admirable.

Looking out the windows of the vehicle, Saihara noticed that the area they were in was densely packed with trees and sparsely populated with other people. Suddenly the bus drove into a large lot, coming to a stop after parking. After being nudged by Amami, a tired Akamatsu stood up and announced to everyone that they had arrived at their destination. A collective groan from a majority of the bus signaled the group’s displeasure at having to wake up from their naps, but they otherwise cooperated. Gathering up their belongings, they one by one stepped off the bus and into the unwelcoming heat.

Uncomfortable with the unusually hot weather, Ouma began fanning himself rapidly with his free hand in a feeble attempt to fend off some of the heat. Though it did help to cool him down momentarily, the long term benefits were nonexistent, especially as he began to walk and carry his bag with him.

Observing his surroundings, Ouma noticed that the area seemed notably empty, almost as if they were in the middle of nowhere. It was a mystery how the girls even managed to find this place. As the bus began to drive away, the reality that they would be stuck here in the overwhelming heat practically indefinitely was beginning to settle in.

“Saihara-chaaan…” Ouma complained loudly, grabbing the attention of a few others around him as well. “It’s too hot… I can’t go on anymore…” While it was true that he was being dramatic, there was a hint of truth in his words as his pace began to slow down, leaving him trailing slightly behind Saihara and the others.

Saihara gave a fond smile, mildly amused by Ouma’s theatrics. “Here.” He pulled a water bottle out from the side of his bag and handed it to him. “Make sure you stay hydrated. Our campsite should be nearby, so you can rest soon.”

“You want me to drink water?” He gave a disgusted look, but accepted the drink regardless. “Who do you think I am?” After taking a quick sip, he handed it back to Saihara. “I would never drink something as plain and boring as water.”

“Right…” Playfully rolling his eyes, Saihara accepted the water bottle and placed it back in his bag. “Just try to keep going a little bit more, okay?” He gave Ouma a soft yet encouraging look, a gentle expression that was only reserved for him dressed on his face.

“Yup! I feel totally better now that Saihara-chan took care of me! What a doting boyfriend!” Ouma exclaimed, causing Saihara to flush bright red as well as attracting Momota’s attention.

“What are you yelling about, Ouma?” Momota questioned suspiciously before noticing Saihara’s flushed face, causing him to worry. “Woah, Shuichi, your face is really red! Do you need some water or something?”

Saihara stole a glance at Ouma, who was smiling innocently while he was being fussed over by Momota. He sighed.

“I’ll be fine…”

A few moments later they arrived at their designated campsite, taking the time to set up their tents and set down their belongings. The tents were large enough to fit two or three people, allowing everyone to keep the same sleeping arrangements that they maintained back at their apartments. Naturally, Ouma slipped off to go explore rather than helping to set up the tents, given that physical effort, or effort in general, was not necessarily something he enjoyed.

He didn’t stray too far from the campsite, keeping it vaguely in his sight to ensure that he did not get lost. Aside from the obvious fact that there were many trees, bushes and rivers, Ouma unfortunately noticed that there were a lot of bugs. A quick shiver ran up his spine as he noticed a particularly large spider crawling dangerously close to him on the side of a tree, loosely triggering his fight or flight response as he jumped away.

Ouma had never liked bugs, plain and simple. Especially not after the “insect meet and greet” during the simulation. Although it had been his idea in the first place, he never actually intended to get trapped in Gokuhara’s lab with a plethora of bugs, ultimately causing him to go unconscious. Shaking off the unpleasant memories and deciding that he had explored enough, Ouma turned to return to the campsite when he bumped into something tall and solid.

That’s weird… I would’ve remembered if there was a tree right behind me.

Rubbing his head and blinking wearily, Ouma hardly registered what was right in front of him.

“Gon- I’m so sorry!” Gokuhara’s voice sounded from in front of him, distinct and unmistakable. “Is Ouma-kun okay?!”

“Gonta…?” Ouma lifted his head to look at Gokuhara, but all he registered was a fuzzy image of said boy. “I’m fine… Geez, what were you even doing there anyway?”

“I saw Ouma-kun looking at bug friend and wanted to join! Ouma-kun really does love bugs!” Gokuhara stated excitedly, eyes sparkling.

“Uh, sure… That’s one way to put it.” Ouma grimaced, trying but failing to fake a smile. “So I’m guessing you came out here to look for bugs?”

A flash of sadness flickered across Gokuhara’s face, brief yet still tangible.

“Gonta was told his memories were fake…” He stared at the ground, expression faraway and unreadable. “But bugs make Gonta so happy! And-”

“Yeah, yeah, big guy. I didn’t ask for a sob story.” Ouma cut him off, dismissing his emotions. He knew where this conversation was going; One thing would lead to another and before they knew it they would be pouring out their emotions to one another, which was certainly not a conversation he wanted to have. Being semi-honest around Saihara was enough, but Gokuhara too? Ouma wasn’t sure he could handle that as well.

Not after what he did to him.

No, he didn’t deserve a happy ending with Gokuhara. Having Saihara accept him and forgive him was enough, he couldn’t burden another human being with his true intentions and emotions.

“Hello? Ouma-kun?” Gokuhara’s surprisingly gentle voice brought him back to reality, Ouma not even realizing that he spaced out.

“Well, that’s enough nature for me today! Guess I’d better head back now! See ya, Gonta!” Ouma tried excusing himself, but found himself being ignored as Gokuhara stared off into the distance with a determined expression on his face. “...Gonta?”

Much to Ouma’s surprise, Gokuhara took off into the woods, most likely running after a bug of some sort. He contemplated whether or not to leave him, but his worry got the better of him and he decided to chase after Gokuhara and bring him back to the campsite.

After running for much longer than he thought he would have to, Ouma finally found Gokuhara, who had the palms of his hands cupped together and was intently observing whatever he was holding. Just as Ouma was about to speak, a red dragonfly fluttered out of Gokuhara’s hands who, rather than giving chase, said his goodbyes to his new friend.

“Oh, Ouma-kun! You came!” Gokuhara cheered excitedly. “Did you see-”

“Yes, I saw your new bug friend.” Ouma stated after catching his breath. “Come on, let’s…”

Ouma cut himself off this time, staring into the expanse of the area around them. He must’ve ran farther than he thought, having found himself on the edge of the woods. Looking past the last few trees and bushes, he saw...

“Ouma-kun? Is everything okay?” Gokuhara tried to grab his attention, to no avail.

Snapping out of his daze, Ouma turned his attention back to Gokuhara, who was anxiously hovering over him. Rather than responding, he simply smiled to himself.

This trip was about to get a whole lot better.