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Life after the killing game, Shuichi finds, is not that different from living inside of it. A notable (and comforting) difference, however, is that nobody’s being forced to kill each other.
All sixteen and them are alive and (mostly) well after the game. It all turned out to be a simulation , which somehow wasn’t that shocking after being told he was a fictional character and that nothing he did mattered—which it did, by the way, and he had argued his case about it. Then, he, Maki, and Himiko stepped out into the rubble, went out to face the future, and—bam. Hospital bed. Doctors and nurses and faceless nobodies around his bed and congratulations on winning, “ you’ll be getting so much prize money, ” and “ it will take a while for you and the others to recover from the effects of the simulation.”
So, Shuichi stayed put. He shut his mouth and nodded along and pretended like it was all okay. Team Danganronpa’s doctors were fine , but something dark rotted in his brain when he remembered that technically, these guys were responsible for putting him in a killing game.
Well, the staff of team Danganronpa and himself , of course.
He couldn’t forget to include himself in this assessment. He still remembered the video—Jesus, it was an audition, wasn’t it? You’d think he was auditioning to be in his favourite play, or something. It wasn’t particularly heartwarming to discover he had wanted to kill or be killed in a killing game reality TV show, but with the knowledge that it all turned out to be virtual anyways, he could sort of see why it would be slightly more appealing than signing up to actually die in real life.
Still. It was unfortunate. He wasn’t sure if he would want to be friends with his past self at all if he ever met him. Except, it was still him, deep inside, so did he actually have the capabilities for that somewhere inside? Could he really blame someone like that if that someone was himself? Then, he'd have to turn the knife of blame upon himself, right? Tsumugi was right, he did sign up, but now he totally regretted it and—
“Earth to sidekick? Hellooooo?”
He snaps back to reality. Kaito’s sitting across from him at the dining hall table, eating the limpest and plain sandwich known to man. He waves his hands over Shuichi’s face. Maki, who’s sitting next to him, scoffs.
“Leave him alone. He’s probably just tired.”
“Did you stay up late, Shuichi?” Kaito frowns. “You know you need your rest—”
“That’s rich coming from you , dumbass.”
“I-I told you I wanted a glass of water!”
“At night? With Kokichi?”
“I was… wheeling him around?”
“Uh-huh.”
Life after the killing game is not that different from living inside of it. Almost all sixteen of his classmates are together again, eating meals and spending their free time together in between check-ups and whatever else Team Danganronpa bothers with until they’re given the green light to leave and go back to their families. That, or to figure out other living arrangements. He heard from a passing comment from Kaede that some people were going to be moving in together.
Other than that, things are mostly the same—they’re stuck with each other in an enclosed space. There are some differences, of course. Tsumugi's nowhere to be seen, they’re no longer in their ‘iconic’ outfits they’d been stuck with of the whole game, and some people are still in the different stages of recovery from their deaths in-game—take Kokichi, who’s been using the wheelchair until he’s able to walk again after physical therapy. It checks out that getting straight up crushed would probably have a bigger effect on his waking body. Some of the others have some leftover consequences from their deaths in the game, too—hell, even Kaito’s still feeling the effects of the illness they gave him in the simulation.
Despite their still being under the responsibility of Team Danganronpa, the familiarity is almost… comforting. He’s at least glad to be here with people he knows and cares about, even if the last time he had seen some of them were either as victims or perpetrators of murders. Some people, however, chose to get their memories back of who they were before the game started. Now the ghosts of the people they once were also get to be stuck here, too.
Once again, Shuichi’s not sure if he’d like to meet his past self.
“Hey, did you find out who you’d be staying with after we all get let out?” Kaito asks, propping an elbow up on the table and meaning onto his hand. “I thought they made up my grandparents for the game, but apparently not! They’re real, isn’t that great?” His grin falters. “I just wonder if they’ll be anything like how I remember, or if Team Danganronpa changed that , too…”
Shuichi tilts his head. “You didn’t get your memories back?”
“Eeh…” He makes a so-so gesture with his free hands. “I dunno if I want to do it or not. Might be more trouble than it’s worth.”
Shuchi hums in agreement. Maki, however, raises an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t it be better, though? So that you know what to expect?”
“That’s easy for you to say, Maki Roll!” he whines. “Your pre-game self is, like, basically the same!”
“Except for being stupid enough to want to sign up to this game.”
“Except for that,” he continues, “but, like, you should’ve seen my audition, man. Well—uh, you did, but anyways… I got a hold of the contracts and audition-y stuff we had to send in. That shit’s rough, man.”
“I get that,” Shuichi agrees, nodding. He pokes at his food. “I don’t know if I want my memories back, either, I guess.”
Kaito’s expression sours into something almost pitiful. “Shit, I remember seeing yours. Yeah, no, I get that.”
He grimaces. “You saw that?”
“They had the show playing on the TVs back in the hospital, like, all the time. I didn’t really want to watch it at first, but when it’s there and kind of just playing in the background…” he trails off. “I mean, I guess I saw mine, too. And, uh. You guys did too. So. You know.”
Huh. It didn’t sound any bit calming to have to watch the rest of your friends suffer while you were safe and sound and healing in what was technically the next room over, but… it sounded like a Team Danganronpa thing to do.
“So, you think you’re going to be alright when we get discharged?” Kaito swiftly changed the subject.
“My uncle… er, ‘exists.’ He’s picking me up afterwards.”
“Sweet! Hey, we should, like, trade contact info or something. Since we’re probably all going to different places, right?” Kaito grinned. “I found my old phone number in all the old stuff the old me left. If I write it down for you guys later…”
“Hm… not a bad idea.”
“See, Maki Roll agrees with me! So, we keep in contact after we get discharged…”
Shuichi’s gaze lowered back down to his food. He wondered what his old self had left behind. Was he the type of person to be on his phone often? Would he see lots of phone numbers and contacts on his old phone when he went to add Kaito’s? Oh, gosh, what about his room? What kind of things did the old Shuichi Saihara decorate his room with? Shuichi had the feeling he wouldn’t like it one bit.
Shuichi wasn't sure whether he’d want to meet his past self. Either way, memories or no memories, he’d probably still have to ‘meet’ him anyways.
Danganronpa. Lots and lots of Danganronpa.
Shuichi had the feeling he would be walking into the room of someone who was at least somewhat of a fan of Danganronpa, but he wasn’t expecting… this. That stupid little black and white bear is everywhere , and frankly, he needs him gone.
He and the rest of his classmates—castmates?—were discharged soon after some final interviews and show business. Then, Shuichi had a tentatively warm-but-also-kind-of-tense meeting with his uncle, who was real and somehow also a detective by the way, and they went off on their less than merry way. Apparently, his aunt and uncle were against him signing up to the show and had tried to convince him not to go, but clearly that hadn’t worked out. Shuichi wishes it did.
So. Danganronpa. There are posters on every wall with splashes of pink everywhere, blood, blood, blood, except it’s not blood, because blood out here in the real world is red, apparently. There are a lot of unfamiliar faces, but also some he remembers—there’s Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Despair, of course—except she’s not real and never has been (he thinks.) But, one thing stays consistent. There’s that Monokuma, there’s his stupid, black and white face on every wall and on minifigures on his shelves and as hanging papercrafts and fanart he’s pinned up and the plushies on his bed.
Shuichi takes one of the plushies and chucks it inside his open closet door. It thuds to the floor. He clenches his fist.
Alright. This all needs to go.
He’s halfway through ripping posters off the walls and hiding away any merch that he can when his uncle pokes his head through the door. His eyes are wide, owlish.
“Shuichi?”
“Huh?” He turns around. He’s got another one of those stupid posters in his hands and he’s half considering ripping it up. It would probably upset his past self, wouldn’t it? Luckily, he doesn’t really care. “What’s up?”
“We’ve been calling you down for dinner.” He manages a small smile under his comically bushy mustache. “We made you your favourite.” His smile falters. “Erm. If it still is your favourite, that is.”
Silence. Shuichi slowly sets down the poster. “Um… right. Thank you. I’ll be down soon.”
His uncle nods and leaves. Shuichi waits until he hears the thumping of his footsteps go down the hall before he releases a big sigh. This has been so much work . How much merch did his old self have, anyways? How did he even afford all of this?
He catches sight of some brightly coloured sticky notes posted on his corkboard out of the corner of his eye. He squints to read his sloppy handwriting.
REMINDER—finish fanfic when coming back. Re-read fic after you return from game. Password for computer is ‘kyokokirigiri4ever.’
IMPORTANT: Use in-game knowledge for improved worldbuilding and writing once back!!! Outlines and notes in doc. Search for ‘ao3,’ and your user is ultdetectivesno1fan. Password for ao3 acc same as computer.
Good luck, me!!!
Finish the what?
As insufferable as he finds his previous self, he’s still a bit curious as to what this could possibly be about. Did his past self know he’d get his memories wiped before entering the killing game? If so, this note must have been the reminder for something he found important enough to remind himself about when he returned.
The computer he’s looking for is already on the desk, practically waiting for him. He turns it on, types in the password he’s been provided with (ridiculous, by the way,) and opens up the web browser.
The search history catches his eye before he can search up the website he’s been instructed to go to.
Danganronpa v2
Fanganronpa tips
How to write someone drowning
Kyolo kirifri x redaer
Kyoko kirigiri x reader
Danganronpa v2 sprites
How ot write someone getting stabbed
How much blod doe sht ehuman body have
Minesweeper
Mystery writing tips
Dnaganrnopa v2 backgrounds
Dnsganronpa cosplay
How to get fake blood out of clothes
Spies in my comptuer if you're reading this those searches were fake to test your agents. You passed. You can delete my search history now thanks.
Danganronpa sign up
…
Well. That was enlightening. It’s all Danganronpa, Danganronpa, Danganronpa again, that’s for sure. He’s not sure he wants to know what an ‘x reader’ is, or whoever ‘Kyoko Kirigiri’ is, for that matter. It’s clear his past self was… definitely passionate about writing. Yeah. That checks out, considering the reminder to ‘finish a fanfic.’ He thinks he remembers Tsumugi explaining fanfiction to him once when they were hanging out, before she… revealed herself as the mastermind. God , was that really so long ago now?
Did she sign up to be the mastermind, or just get assigned the role? he wonders.
He enters ao3. He logs on to his account.
Jesus , just how many fanfics are there?!
He’s—his past self has written who knows how many fanfictions and posted them all here, almost all of them tagged with ‘Danganronpa.’ He scrolls through a few, winces at the amount of gore and pain and angst his past self seems to have been insistent on writing, and really just takes in the magnitude of how big of a fan his past self was. There's so much content. Too much content.
The most recent fanfic updated, he clicks on. He skims the summary, starting notes, and then clicks right to the final chapter of the story. He scrolls down to skim the notes again, and reads this:
I have some news for everyone! I’ve auditioned to be on… DANGANRONPAAAA!!! ASKLNDSKDNKJENDKJEFNJ AHHHHHHH
Unfortunately, this means that if I get in, this fic will be going on a bit of a hiatus… :( but worry not! Nothing‘s going to stop me from finishing this fic, and hopefully if all goes well (and the notes work…) I’ll be able to come back to this in a while!!
So, this is ultdetectivesno1fan, signing off. Hopefully I get in!!!
The story ends there. There’s no ‘Next Chapter’ button for Shuichi to click on. His heart sinks like a stone into his stomach.
No. A theory is brewing in his mind. There is no way his past self has asked this of himself.
He hunts down the docs he’s also been instructed to look at. There are unfinished chapters, story outlines, instructions for himself —
“Shuichi? Are you coming down or not?”
Oh.
He shuts the computer and rushes down. Nope, nope, nope. He doesn’t want to look at this anymore. That was far too much about his past self that he wanted to learn. That guy was meant to stay in the dark.
Now, time to leave Danganronpa and fanfiction and whoever Kyoko Kirigiri was in the past.
Shuichi’s on his old self’s computer again.
Sure, it’s technically his computer, and he owns it, but the thing has too much of his old self injected in it for him to even consider it a belonging of his. As far as he knows, it basically belongs to someone else entirely.
So, he’s ‘investigating’ again. The Danganronpa wallpaper featuring Kyoko Kirgiri (he’s figured out who that is now!) and a shorter boy with spiky brown hair edited with a drawing of what seems to be himself over it is basically a familiar friend by now. In fact, he’s gotten less freaked out by it every time it pops up on the screen. He hasn’t bothered to change it. Because the computer feels like someone else’s, he thinks he’d feel… kind of bad. Like he was erasing the last of the poor guy.
The bedroom’s free reign, though. Shuichi’s the one sleeping in it, so he wants to be the one who feels the most comfortable, thank you very much.
He toyed around with the idea of deleting all the fanfiction, or maybe abandoning the account forever, but once again, something stopped him. There’s probably people waiting on a chapter that will never come, right? That’s kind of sad.
Then, he remembered that these people are probably just as crazy and killing game obsessed as his pre-game self. He instantly felt considerably less sorry.
He knows that he said that he didn't want to know about his old self at all, and he said that he was going to leave this in the past, but he’s a little too far in to stop now. It’s not like he can even escape his past self if he tried. Danagnronpa is something woven into the fabric of his old self’s identity. It’s something woven into his , too, but for completely different reasons. Everywhere he goes around the house, there’s something to remind him of whoever he could’ve been, might’ve been. He first remembered his past self as a mindless, murder-obsessed zombie. Now, he’s also seen the shy kid and reclusive middle schooler and the human behind it all. It's in the family pictures around the house. It’s in the diary entries he dug up from the bottoms of his drawers and the sketchbooks on his shelves.
Detectivesona → points to a shoddy drawing of himself with an exaggerated sense of drama and shading covering one half of his face. There are mini-comics of his 'detectivesona’ solving mysteries and dominating trials. It’s… not too far off from the real thing. Just… over-sensationalised.
Not only does his old self have an account to post fanfiction, but he’s also got multiple online blogs, too. Shuichi also has the idea to see what his old self had in his search history—not cleared, apparently—out of curiosity. It was… enlightening, to say the least.
Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective, wanted nothing more than to stop the killing game he was in. Shuichi Saihara, the Super Fan, wanted to join one to make his dreams come true and become a part of the obsession he had for most of his life.
Were they the same person? Or, were they completely separate entities now? Is his old self dead, now? Is he never coming back to his bedroom and his posters and his fanfiction?
Shuichi’s in the middle of reading one of his old journals when his phone rings. He jumps at the noise. Once he gathers himself together, he looks to see who the call’s from. Kaito.
Ah. Weekly call time, or whatever he wanted to call it.
“Hey, Shuichi!” Kaito bellows out from the phone as Shuichi sets it up against his computer screen, flicking on the camera. Kaito insisted on them having cute little weekly facetimes. “Whatcha reading there?”
“Huh?” He glances down to see the old diary he’s still holding in his hands. “Just… old journal. It’s from my old self.”
Maki raises an eyebrow. She’s combing her hair on her side of the call, which looks like a much more manageable task compared to before since she lopped most of it off. “I thought you didn’t want to learn anything about that.”
“I got…” he shrugs. “I got curious, I guess.”
“Did it turn out bad, or…” Kaito asks. “Is he a total freak or what?”
Shuichi nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking of what to answer with. “I found… some notes from my past self. He wrote fanfiction.”
Maki furrows her brows. “What, like…?”
“All Danganronpa.”
“Yeesh, dude.” Kaito cringes. “Sounds rough.”
“It’s not… bad, I guess.” Shuichi rambles. “Well, it kind of is. I mean, he’s not too bad of a writer. There was so much merch around when I first came back, though. I had to hide away all the Monokuma plushies.”
He snorts. “Oh course they’re selling plushies of that stupid bear.”
“Past me…” he hums in thought. “He’s kind of right. Not as scary as I thought. Just kind of obsessed. Bit of a geek, I guess I’d describe him? He signed up under the impression he was going to have a lot of fun in his favourite show of all time.”
“Now that’s a tale as old as time.”
“The old me’s interesting, at least.” he manages a smile. “Do you want to know what I found in the search history when I first opened my computer?”
“Uh, yes.”
He’s not sure he would’ve laughed about this a while ago. Now, though, he recalls the memory with a wistful smile. “So first I was really confused on who Kyoko Kirigiri was…”