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Let it be known to any soul around to hear it, despite what any fake former classmates may say, Kokichi Ouma was not insufferable beyond repair. Sure, he was annoying and grating on the ears and maybe he’d even say he was the “worst classmate ever” at points, but never beyond the capacity to be worth keeping alive. As he sat in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of every orifice that the doctors could find, he found himself repeating it again and again, scared to forget that. It had been five days since he woke up from his traumatic placement in a Virtual Reality Simulation of a Killing Game known as DanganRonpa. Ten days since he felt himself being crushed under the unbearable weight of a hydraulic press and got to experience the unique feeling of the bones in his chest being bent in ways they never should’ve been. And eleven days since he manipulated a fellow classmate into orchestrating their combined deaths for a contrived plot that he wasn’t entirely sure would have worked in the first place. Speaking of… Kaito had woken up a day before he did and had taken it upon himself to station his ailing body outside the door to Kokichi’s room. He was probably still there now, waiting for Kokichi to let him in and explain everything. Maybe even have one of those heartfelt cries the other students had when they woke up and were faced with the reality that they had killed people for no reason beyond a false promise of freedom. Kokichi glanced at the door through the corner of his eye and felt the tubes constrict with every minute twist and turn of his body. In the days since he woke up, he hasn’t let anyone into his room. Not Kaito, whom he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with again. Not Gonta, whose worst crime was being kind to someone like him. Not Miu, whose motivations he understood too well and couldn’t pretend to self-righteously condemn. And Shuichi, who had woken up quite soon after he won the game, caused Kokichi’s heart monitor to spike at the mere idea of it. Each of these people had tried to request entry into Kokichi’s room at some point in the past five days, and each time the nurse had asked him if he would consider it, Kokichi could only shake his head slightly as he replayed the events of the past weeks or months in his head. It wasn’t enough to realize your death was a mere imitation, but the doctor made sure to let Kokichi know in graphic detail that there was nobody left for him to come home to either. Sure, Kokichi can’t pretend he doesn’t know his family is gone with the wind; that was old news. It was the clarification that a vast chunk of the entire world had died in some event with a name too long to remember including many of the students’ loved ones and friends that left Kokichi in a daze. That meant that Kokichi wasn’t the only person leaving this hospital to a world that can barely sustain them. The other students weren’t like Kokichi; they weren’t used to trading tricks and stealing when necessary, doing anything to survive the way that Kokichi did so often. It didn’t alleviate the guilt Kokichi carried when they tried to come to him, and he sat in his room burdened by the hard truth that he no longer had any answers to lie about having. The door stays shut every day that Kokichi remains in that bed and the nurse reports less and less attempted visits with the passing days. The doctors tell him that he needs to get out of the room if only to help his body regain its ability to move. Kokichi’s body is barely hanging onto the idea that it hasn’t died, and it needs Kokichi to help it heal. Kokichi doesn’t want to help anyone heal, much less himself, so the silent cries of his muscles to be flexed and bent go unheard as Kokichi sinks back into bed. His legs are pretty roughed up from what he can see in his supine position. His shoulder too. They bring in a wheelchair shortly after he wakes up and it sits dejected in the corner of Kokichi’s room, as unloved as his body feels. When he turns away from the chair and the monitors, he can pretend that he’s just tired and he’ll get it done tomorrow. Lying doesn’t feel as comforting as it did two weeks ago, but he lies anyways, because all of these honest truths hurt worse. And the days go on and on, but under the swaying of a solitary overhead light fixture in that empty room, time doesn’t pass for Kokichi Ouma.  It has been many days since Kokichi initially realized he was just thrust from one intensely difficult survival scenario into another when he receives a polite knock at his door. It couldn’t be any of his former classmates; they had finally stopped idling by his door and retreated to the common area of the hospital to have a sleepover and feign normalcy tonight. After tonight, apparently, those of them that had healed were set to be released into the wasteland of the outside. Kokichi wasn’t quite sure. He only learned things from the hushed murmurs of the nurses who came in once a day to make sure he hadn’t re-entered a comatose state. Kokichi almost asked who it was, as he had barred any visitors, but found his throat hurt from going unused for so long. After a lack of any confirmation, the door opened slowly as though to allow Kokichi to voice his disapproval at any time. Kokichi wished he could, but instead sagged back into the white sheets of his bed. Through the corner of his eye, Kokichi saw a young adult with hair that resembled cumulonimbus clouds against a pink sunset enter the room, a set of papers held in a robotic claw of an arm. He looked outwardly calm, though his arm wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the files as though they secretly held worse news than his current situation.  Kokichi examined the man further as he stepped into the dim overhead lighting of the room. His moss coat and weird outfit didn’t help the suspicion Kokichi held as he sat down in a plastic chair at the foot of his mattress unprompted. Despite no words having been exchanged yet, the man looked down at him with a smile. His smile was thin, smile lines showing on his face from what must have been years of a content existence Kokichi wanted no part of. It was a smile Kokichi knew all too well; it was so happy, too strained at the corners. He was nervous about something, though he was attempting to display confidence. Kokichi figured if he had to sit in with a freak like him, he would have been nervous too. He had every reason to believe Kokichi was a danger to others. Maybe he is. After too much time spent sending awkward smiles and tapping his foot, the man finally gained the courage to speak and held up his badge. As the light caught on it, Kokichi almost saw his reflection and quickly moved his gaze to the floor. “Hi, I’m Nagito Komaeda, uhm, Intern member of the Jabberwock Branch of Future Foundation.” He tried to give Kokichi a renewed smile, which Kokichi returned with a confused frown. “They’re the group who helped save you guys from your simulation.” Kokichi should have guessed it when he saw the files and the badge, but it still threw him for a loop to have some confirmation that even a portion of what he learned in the simulation was real. It was unsettling, maybe even moreso than Tsumugi being right that they were all complete frauds, for even a modicum of what was in that file to be true. In his shock, he found his voice. “You guys knew we were in there?” Every syllable cracked with the threat of dying on his lips. “No. Well, yeah? But not in that way! We thought your class was dead.” Komaeda’s mouth twitched, like he was holding back an ill-timed laugh. “What?” “Yeah, but thankfully you aren’t!” Komaeda rustles around his stack of papers before handing an old photo to him, clipped at the edges, showing what must have been the only surviving photo of the incoming class… the version of them from before their obvious torment. They weren’t wearing consistent uniforms, a variety of different middle school outfits between them all. Kokichi grazed over their faces until he landed on a familiar mass of dark purple hair. He was apart from everyone else on the far left of the photo like some hidden treasure, but he looked… happy? Perhaps excited for the potential future the school would give him? What an idiot. Komaeda continued as Kokichi forced himself to stop staring at his own carefree face. “Junko Enoshima held you guys in stasis as a failsafe if plan class 77-b didn’t go the way she planned. It was a lucky break that we even found you alive, years after she found us. That virus was powerful, sustaining your bodies just enough despite the host being long gone.” Kokichi sputtered indignantly as Nagito dumped so much information into very little words. What could he even say to that? They thought an entire class was dead and only found them after they’d had their brains taken over by some dead girl? Kokichi swore he felt his blood pressure rising again. “I should backpedal, huh? Okay, I was part of the 77th class at Hopes Peak Academy, your upperclassmen.” Kokichi nodded hesitantly; his memories from just before the simulation were as good as gone but he knew there were upperclassmen at Hopes Peak. He spent his entire summer researching them for possible recruits. “When The Tragedy happened, we were driven into such despair that we wreaked havoc on the world as the Remnants-“ “The Remnants of Despair? You were part of them?” Kokichi felt his heartbeat pick up and the heart monitor began racing to match it. Komaeda spared a quick glance at the monitor before placing a hand on the rail of the bed. “Not anymore, thanks to Future Foundations Rehabilitation Program. We were saved thanks to the generosity of a man named Makoto Naegi, Junko Enoshima’s defeater, and given a new life through our appointment as helpers in his grand plan to restore the world into something worthy of living in again and blasting back despair wherever possible. Doesn’t that sound great?” Great? It sounded like something out of a comic book. The kind of thing that usually led to a heartfelt romp through a hero’s journey as they fought evil and overcame every malevolent thing that came in their way. This guy looked entranced by the idea of it in a way Kokichi deemed excessive. “Sounds awful. I don’t know if you watched me out there, but I’m not exactly big on the government or the power of friendship, I hate the remnants, and you don’t look sane enough to be reformed.” “I tried to look nice for our first time meeting each other. I haven’t been given one of their suits, so I stick out like a sore thumb. That’s the story of my life.” “That’s incredibly depressing. Are they trying to make me feel so bad for you that I listen to what you have to say? Because you’re doing a really crappy job.” “I’m sorry that you had to have me here, but Hajime thought it would be better for somebody who could empathize to be the one to mentor you.” Nagito’s smile grows a little wider at the mention of the other Foundation member and Kokichi has to quell his own queasiness when he replies. “You’re like me?” Kokichi means to laugh, but it comes out more like a wet cough. “And I thought I was the funny one.” If he kept talking this wetness would probably become a sticky redness as words started aggressive clawing on his feeble windpipe with each syllable he forced out. “I could.” Nagito says simply. Kokichi stills as Nagito stares at him too knowingly, like every lie he’s told in the past five minutes has gone unheard. The way an adult looks at a child who’s just done something particularly coy instead of a teenager (maybe adult?) who has gotten multiple people killed over the span of a week because of a half-baked plan concocted while mentally exhausted and mostly dead. “So you’ve killed people? I do.” He says it quickly, because it makes him sound proud of it, and he disgusts himself a bit more. “I’ve killed tons of people for fun and I’m totally not about to change now.” “Not anymore.” Okay, Kokichi kind of regrets going there now. “Anymore?” “We all did questionable things in the game.” Oh. The game. How could he forget about the raging hell that’s infected his mind for as long as he’s been awake? “You were in the game?” Calling it by name feels like it’ll summon that stupid bear into his hospital room, his only sanctuary left from the ordeal, like some bogeyman. Nagito nods solemnly, but he doesn’t elaborate beyond that. “I could understand you.” “No, you don’t. If you did get me, you’d get that I don’t want to be part of a stupid club with a bunch of people who I hate.” Nagito looks confused. “You don’t have to be part of Future Foundation.” “Then why are you here?” “Uh, you don’t have to be part of Future Foundation to join me as an intern, technically.” Komaeda’s hand tenses on his knee, bunching up the fabric of his brown pants. “Are you planning to take me to some remote location and murder me?” “No.” Komaeda lets it hang in the air for a second. “I was planning on having you help me with my job, conveniently far away from all of those classmates of yours that you hate so much.” “Yeah, and I bet it’ll be a bonding exercise that’ll teach us an important lesson about the importance of working together and hugs and rainbows. Not interested.” “Maybe, maybe not. You’re gonna have to listen to me to find out.” “I don’t want to listen to you. I just want to go back to bed, I’m tired.” Kokichi croaks and bunches up his comforter. “I know you don’t want to think about what’ll happen when you get discharged from the hospital. The world is pretty scary when there’s not a world-ending event going on in most of it, but this is a decent opportunity.” “I’ll survive. I’ve done way worse than eat trash and ramen to get by.” Kokichi grit his teeth as he tried to remember if he was supposed to be lying or not right now. If the truth he thought he was speaking was a lie. Lying was hard when so much of you can apparently be a complete fabrication. “Well, what about this; you can come with me and work completely solo on Jabberwock Island until you get better. After that, you can tell Hajime yourself that you don’t want to work at Future Foundation, he’ll send you to our liberated base in Towa City and you can rebuild your life there. No strings attached.” No strings attached was such a load of dogshit. Everything had strings attached, including him. Kokichi scoffed. “Yeah, right. Between you and me, you shouldn’t lie if you’re so bad at it. Leave it to the professionals and go back to your weird hero worship.” “I mean it. The Future Foundation doesn’t need any new recruits after all, they have an entire crew of us. Right?” It made sense that the Future Foundation would probably be up to their necks in capable Ultimates with both groups of their upperclassmen, but it didn’t sit quite right. Honestly, it felt too good to be the truth. Kokichi couldn’t think too hard right now, though, or the pounding in his head would become a rapid nosebleed. He also didn’t want to write off a potential exit point so quickly either. An island vacation did sound like a hail mary compared to what the world looks like now, if his research wasn’t entirely falsified by that bear. “What does working there mean exactly? Not that I’m thinking about it.” “Nothing strenuous. You’ll mostly be working the front desk and keeping the guests safe from my… talent.” Komaeda mutters the last part, which confuses Kokichi. “Your talent?” Nagito sucks in a breath as he tells Kokichi about the real catch. “It’s barely a talent, if I’m honest. I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student. Everybody gets so excited when I say that until their microwave catches fire.” “So you want me to keep you from burning the hotel down?” “Exactly! You’ll be compensated, obviously, but you just have to make sure the people we’ve stationed on Jabberwock aren’t… inconvenienced by my quirks.” Kokichi wasn’t even aware luck could be considered an Ultimate talent, much less as interesting as Komaeda was making it sound. He thought he was pushing it when he portrayed himself as the Ultimate Supreme Leader and Liar; apparently, he wasn’t pushing things far enough when compared to some of the Ultimates Hopes Peak admitted. “Why are you an intern?” “Hm?” “You said you were an intern. Tell my why you’re an intern.” “Why should I?” “Because I’m not going to leave with some weird stranger when I could be chilling with my future minions in Towa.” As soon as he says it, Kokichi regrets it. Lying about D.I.C.E. feels worse than lying about other things now that he knows they’re certainly dead. What’s worse is Nagito won’t stop looking at him with so much careful sympathy, like he can tell Kokichi is brimming with animosity under the veil of uncaring frigidness. “If I answer all of your questions, will you think about it?” “No.” Kokichi answers bluntly, before placing a finger to his chin and pretending to think. “I’d need way more than that.” Nagito perks up at that. “What will it take?” “Well, I need three things. One, I want full control over how much work I’m doing; I’m precious cargo, I’m not going to do menial labor like some peasant. Two, I want a mini fridge and as much Panta grape soda as I want and three…” Kokichi lost the false mirth in his eyes and looked at Nagito with a hard look. “I don’t want to have to talk to anyone outside of this room before we leave. I want to be gone faster than any of these guys can say auf wiedersehen.” A cough laden with bloody spittle accentuates his last word and Kokichi hides the evidence behind his pale hand. Nagito nodded quickly, which made Kokichi wince and wish he asked for more than he did. “All done! We can leave as soon as you’re cleared. We’ll leave around midnight, so the other students are sleeping and I’ll let Hajime know you’re going to come back to Jabberwock on the boat!” Kokichi watched Nagito stand up with a bounce in his step, communication device in hand, and cleared his hoarse throat loudly. He’s shocked his vocal chords haven’t entirely given up on him yet. “You didn’t answer my question.” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh. Sorry. The Future Foundation didn’t originally want me to be a member. After what happened in Danganronpa they were scared that I’d get everybody killed if I did. They only agreed to let me join as an intern until they think I’m ready.” Nagito adjusted the intern badge on the chest of his coat as he recounted his backstory. “So you’re like, a reformed evil guy? Kinda boring.” “Boring can be fun too. I know Sonia thinks things never get boring with my luck.” “You better hope so, or I’m hopping the first boat back here pronto. That’s a lie, though, I’d probably just swim back if you were that boring.” Nagito chuckled, honest to God laughed at Kokichi. He knew he didn’t have the same bite he normally did when he was attached to machines and speaking with such a strained voice, but seriously? Treating Kokichi like a friend when he was trying to come off as abrasive was a mistake only really stupid people made. Or, one person made. But thinking about that damn game put him into a worse rut than just sitting in bed in a daze did. “Oh, and Kokichi?” “God, what do you want?” “You do have to be able to pass a physical examination before they’ll let you go.” Seriously? A stupid physical just to make sure he doesn’t turn into dust the second he gets out of bed? “No way.” “If you don’t get approved, you can’t get on the boat.” Kokichi sighed. This no strings attached offer was already adding strings now that Komaeda knows he actively wants to leave. “I just want to let you know that you can do the physical therapy with me. Nobody else will be there if I am for safety concerns.” “Why the hell would I want that?” “Just an offer.” Nagito held his arms up defensively, but something in the lilt of his voice indicated that he knew something more than Kokichi did. He closed the door with the same slow movement that he opened it with and bid farewell just before the door clicked again. From his spot on the bed, Kokichi glanced back at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.  Nagito stood in the corner of the room, the same whites and greys as the rest of the hospital. He had been overjoyed to receive an invitation to physical therapy with Kokichi, who had reiterated once more that he refused to have any of his fellow classmates be scheduled concurrently with his hour, though now that he was awaiting his arrival Nagito could see clearly why the spirits of the first-years had been crushed inside of this place. Spending so much time in the hospital as a child had numbed him to the overwhelming scent of death and antibacterials in them, but after spending the past few years in polite society he was thrust back into that depressing state of helplessness that hospitals seemed to carry no matter what wing you stayed in. The monochromatic color scheme was equally visually sedating, if not for the fact that every patient in the hospital likely had the same disproportionately negative response that Nagito had when he saw it. He deserved to feel bad when he stepped into the hospital. Hajime would say he didn’t, but Nagito wasn’t ignorant to his crimes. Even now, on his way to true healing, he wants to sink down to the floor and scratch his arms as harsh as he can before the walls are red instead of this stupid monochrome. The only things that stopped him from giving into those depraved impulses were his better judgement and the idea that his friends would be pretty put off by him doing such things. They weren’t perfect reasons, but they were reasons, and Hajime told him one time that sometimes a shitty reason was better than no reason. The door was shoved open halfway before it slammed back shut, followed by a quiet cursing of every architect that worked in the building. Nagito moved quickly to open the door himself and found Kokichi in the middle of trying to shove the door with two hands again, sat in the hospital-issued wheelchair. “Here you go.” “I didn’t need any help. You look sicker than me, maybe you should be the one doing this.” “I already did.” Nagito wiggled the fingers on his mechanical arm in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re not very funny, are you?” Kokichi had long ago stopped trying to remember to keep his every impulsive thought from spewing out in between his regular babble, content to let people recoil at the often disruptive verbiage. “Ha… I’m not exactly the Ultimate Comedian.” “Where’s the doctor?” Kokichi said quickly. “She was supposed to be here five minutes ago.” Nagito mused. “I think she’s still held up with your classmate Tsumugi.” Tsumugi was crushed too. She was probably in a worse place than him thanks to the show and what it told her she had to be. Kokichi can feel his chest compressing uncomfortably as he thought of how familiar she must have felt when she woke up and swallows hard to try to calm himself down. He shouldn’t be sympathetic to her or anybody outside of this room. That didn’t do him any good when it would be a one-sided pity fest anyways. “Great, so now what do we do?” “We could wait for her… or we could get a soda from the vending machine down the hall and get things started on our own.” Kokichi had to agree that sitting here in stoic silence with Nagito sounded only marginally better than hurling himself off the nearest cliff. He fumbled around with the wheels, arms still too stiff to be any major help when he needed them. Nagito, who noticed Kokichi struggling, silently moved to hold the door open while Kokichi’s wheels squeaked at a snail’s pace through them. The vending machine doesn’t have Panta brand grape soda so Nagito makes an effort to pretend that the generic brand the hospital does have is equally worthy of reverence that Kokichi can tell is his way of trying to relate to him again. It doesn’t quite land and Komaeda comes across more like an older guy trying to be hip with the kids. Kokichi grew up learning not to like name-brand anything; It was always an elusive luxury to him that was unforgivably price-gouged, so generic cereals became one of his favorite foods. But Panta Brand Grape Soda? It wasn’t some miraculous godsend of ambrosia from the heavens, but it was so comfortable to drink. He spent the extra cash to buy the packs of sodas all the time when he was younger, fiscal responsibility thrown out without a care in the world, and let himself soak in the small rewards he could give himself before his organization blew up. Panta represented something bigger than the sticker label that Kokichi would pick off the bottles; it felt like the one thing that tethered him to a time before this all. Now he’s sipping a grape soda that isn’t familiar in a hospital he couldn’t name in a world that moved on without him a long time ago. It’s almost enough to make him break down then and there in that hallway. Was Panta even a real brand, or was everything but the stabbing pain in his legs a disgusting farce? Ever since he had woken up from the simulation, Kokichi feels as though he’s just been waiting for the reality of what’s happened to hit him. On those dark nights, he lies in bed and closes his eyes expecting to open them to the metallic steel of his demise. He gets angry so that he doesn’t start crying over people he hasn’t lost, who are right there waiting for him to let them in. And they shouldn’t expect him too when they know how awful he is. So what if he died… it wasn’t real. It was the kind of thing that was only real if he wanted it to be, but he doesn’t want it to be. He wants to live in the fake world where he didn’t care about anything or anyone. But even in the lies of the fake world, they’ve died. He mourned them like they’ve died, still sees them as such, and he’s always had a harder time lying to dead people. So what is real anyways? It seems either reality leaves him a sopping wet pile of tears on the floor. All of this over a can of grape soda that doesn’t taste much different than the usual teeth-rotting sugar he has. When they make it back to the therapy room, Kokichi is thoroughly done with physical therapy. “On second thought, what if we just ditch the whole thing? She’s not here anyways so what’s stopping us?” “That’s true, but you’re not gonna be able to get on that boat without some kind of recovery.” Nagito scratched his cloudy hair for an answer. Kokichi tapped his fingers against the soda in his hands. “All I need to do is walk, right? That’s easy.” “Walking isn’t the problem; your body is only halfway awake right now from your coma. If you wanna leave this ugly hospital, you have to prove you’re not going to slip back into a coma on Jabberwock.” Kokichi grimaced; Komaeda annoyed him the most when he got all technical about this stuff. Treating him like a liability that he and the hospital have to treat with the utmost care or he’ll die or something. Kokichi Ouma was only a liability when he chose to be! “Fine then.” “Kokichi wait-“ Kokichi stood up out of his chair. He regretted it immediately when the pain in his feet caused him to crumple like tissue on the ground. The wheelchair squeaked slightly as the force of Kokichi’s body hitting the ground pushed it from its original position. There on the ground Kokichi lied numbly and willed Nagito to disappear into thin air with the rest of his future. If this were all part of the simulation, he would have laughed it off and gotten up with a little blood on his face and nobody would have cared. He would have put on a brave face and silently plotted how it played into his ultimate plan to foil those bastards, but he would never, ever, have let them know it hurt. In this sad reality he has entered, however, there was no bright blood or laugh track to offset the embarrassment he felt as he laid there on his stomach with the phantom pain of forcing his legs to hold his weight too soon. “Kokichi? Are you okay?” The voice sounded far away from his rampant mind. Kokichi stayed silent, and they ended physical therapy for the day not soon after.  The days had blurred together before he was part of whatever court-mandated bonding Nagito was trying to pull him into. Prior to Nagito’s entry into his world, Kokichi was content to sit in the dimly lit hospital room that gave no indication to him those days had turned into nights and days became weeks. In a sick sense, it reminded him of his old prison, where he could sit in a space for hours occupying nobody else’s time and filling his mind with increasingly worrying theories about who the traitor among them was. Nobody expected anything in the four corners of a room that belonged to him and only him. It turns out even Kokichi got bored of the façade he put up to repel others. Komaeda didn’t. No matter how much abject abuse Kokichi flung at him while they held hands- doctor’s orders, lest Kokichi break his nose the next time he tried to walk -Komaeda acted as though he were on cloud nine. Kokichi had a working theory now that he was secretly smoking something before he showed up to their sessions. “Kokichi, you should probably try to bend more to firm up your leg muscles.” “Sorry, I forgot you were my mom. Sure, mom, I’ll get right on that.” “Your arm exercises are doing you some good; you almost have full versatility, the doctor said.” “Does your robot arm have a cannon in it? I know a guy with a cannon hand.” Back and forth Nagito and Kokichi talked at each other instead of acknowledging what the other person said. While many people would find it grating, Kokichi found it to be a welcome break from having to constantly elaborate on every thought that tumbled out of his big mouth. Nagito spoke with as little forethought as Kokichi did, which made their talks feel like their own special language that only they understood. At some point, Nagito had shed his coat and brought over more generic branded soda for Kokichi to pretend didn’t make him want to hurl. When Kokichi begged Nagito to get him something he could actually digest, Nagito offered to go down to the kitchen to find a wrapped treat the others hadn’t absconded with after breakfast. “Only if it’s sweet enough to make all my teeth fall out.” Kokichi was also gradually gaining his voice back and therefore capable of hitting the same shrill tones he could when he was being really annoying. Nagito nodded with a grimace on his face and left without another word. Now, Kokichi was alone. That would be fine, perfectly peachy even, if he hadn’t just gotten used to having someone to bounce his thoughts off of. With the lack of Nagito’s kicked puppy demeanor, all Kokichi could focus on was himself standing on shaky legs in a therapy room. Hmph. Maybe Kokichi hadn’t thought this through. Nobody would catch him if he fell now. Just like before. His legs hurt really bad from standing so long today and the chair wasn’t so far from him, but he couldn’t reach it with his arms. If he moved his jelly legs even just to sit he’d be feeling it tomorrow. “No big deal. Just three steps.” Kokichi let out a breath. One step forward was all it took. After that, Komaeda would make sure he never had to look those people in the eye or remember that damn bear again. Kokichi would blame what happened next entirely on the curse just the mention of the bear carried. He face-planted into the ground hard. Just like day one, here he was, on the ground. Except this time, he really may have broken his nose on top of it. Why him? Why was Kokichi suffering like this when all he wanted was to help? Because he can’t help anyone without hurting them, which sadly included himself. He was probably lucky the rest of his class didn’t riot when they found out he was sharing a space with them. He could understand; that’s what he thought whenever people tried to warn him that his personality made people hate him. Because he really could. Nobody understood the loathing of Kokichi Ouma more than himself. Good god, when did he start thinking like this so much? He isn’t insufferable, at least not more than any prodigy evil doer was, which couldn’t be very much. Having gone through… all of that was just weighing him down. He’d be back to his bright-eyed and lackadaisical self the minute his body left this stupid emergency setting. Yeah, Kokichi Ouma was just one step away from being himself again.  Komaeda promised him an island getaway that let him ignore all of his obvious problems.  It was the only thing he had to keep him from going back to that comfortable isolation in bed and never getting better again despite his continued lack of perceived progress. Kokichi had no reason to believe Komaeda would fulfill his end of the bargain; In fact, Kokichi thought it more likely Komaeda would abandon him at the first sign of his personality the same way every other person did. But right now, Kokichi wasn’t above pretending that Komaeda was telling the truth about Jabberwock if it got him through this nightmare. Komaeda made the mistake of trusting Kokichi not to get himself hurt after constant begging on his end for something sweet from the common area. Kokichi was beginning to understand that Komaeda was the kind of person who enjoyed following, which he was just fine with if it meant his continued isolation now rewarded him junk food. Kokichi finally managed one foot in front of the other while thinking about the beach and endless game nights he would have when he finally got there, a few days after constant near collisions with the floor. As his left foot appeared in his line of sight, Kokichi felt himself fighting back another breakdown on that hospital floor. Something about seeing himself overcome the pain of walking to do it was enough to carry him the rest of the way to his wheelchair. The increased surge of pain that came with his right foot hitting the floor was unexpected, but the hurt was manageable for the few steps it took to get back into the safety of his wheelchair. It felt like he had run marathons in the short walk it took him to get himself seated and Kokichi had to catch his breath when he finally got the pressure off of his legs again. He had done it. He walked. The distance didn’t matter, because he had finally reached his internal goal of walking without anybody else’s help! He smiled softly to himself before the sudden sound of clapping startled him. Komaeda had come back with a wrapped honeybun and saw Kokichi as he took the final step to get into his chair. The honeybun was tucked into the bend of his arm as he tried to convey his pride in the younger boy for being able to accomplish such a menial task. Both couldn’t help but stare at one another, at a loss for how to handle affection from either side. “Is that honeybun glazed this time?” “Yeah.” “Sweet!” Kokichi threw his arms up, mostly out of exasperation with the past few minutes. Komaeda chuckled and handed Kokichi the honeybun. Kokichi took a nice bite out of the gooey bread and proclaimed it his reward for beating the game that is life, at least this time. But as he bit, he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that his first three steps hadn’t magically fixed whatever weirdness was stewing inside of him. Maybe it was a delayed shipping situation.  Kokichi didn’t truly understand what Nagito meant when he described how his luck tended to get people maimed or killed until the rain-filled morning of one of his final days in hospice. While Kokichi was busy with making sure his room was just tidy enough for him to be discharged without argument, yet messy enough that the next guy would be inconvenienced by it, Nagito walked in drenched from head to toe in rainwater. Kokichi spun around in his chair to face Nagito who stood in a puddle of his own creation. “What the hell happened to you? Do the idiots at the Future Foundation not have the money for a weather app on those phones of yours?” “I got caught in a typhoon on the way here.” “Jeez, forget a rainstorm. You look like you fell into a puddle and crawled your way out of the other side.” “I’m fine, no need to worry Kokichi.” He wasn’t worrying. Nagito looked like a sponge that needed to be wrung out and Kokichi merely noticed it; that’s why he mentioned it. “I hope you get sick.” “It’d be better than if I managed not to.” “But it’d be pretty fun! Does your luck work like superstitions? Could your sneezes knock out the power or something?” “That makes it sound like a party trick.” “A cool one. I’d do anything to be able to make people quake in fear whenever I found a clover.” “I bet it’d be really helpful for your talent, huh?” “Who cares about my stupid amazing talent? C’mon, I wanna see what happens!” “I really shouldn’t.” Kokichi forced himself into Nagito’s space and waved his hands obnoxiously in his face to coax something, anything that would induce his luck. With the lack of definite good luck occurring around them, Kokichi was skeptical he even had any. As though spurred on by his nonsensical words and actions, the heater kicked in with full force and made slow work of drying Komaeda of his state. It would be a funny coincidence if Kokichi wasn’t convinced the heater above his door had been broken since before he roomed there. Now, all possible signs pointed to Komaeda’s insane luck. “Ha!” Kokichi feels an overwhelming sense of pride for all of three seconds until the sound of a window breaking resonates in his ears and his head begins throbbing in pain. It interrupted his excited theorizing over how to use Komaeda’s luck for freebies. Nagito looks at him with an uncharacteristically upset expression as Kokichi rubs his head. He walked over to the door window, which a rogue ball had flown through. No discernible origin of the ball could be seen through the hole in the window, though Komaeda’s luck only played by the laws of common sense when it felt like it. “I told you not to do that. Now my awful talent’s punishing you.” “I couldn’t resist. You know better than to let me know you have some kind of freakshow talent, Nagi! I can’t resist it, it’s the least boring thing about this place.” “Are you hurt?” “Nothing that’ll stop me from getting on that boat and leaving this shitshow behind.” Nagito still lifted Kokichi’s wavy hair to check anyways. Kokichi tilted his head to the side at a loss for what he was meant to do while Nagito made sure he was fine. Should he break the ice with more jabs at his Ultimate or yell out something weird to distract from the fact Nagito is treating him with a kindness he didn’t know how to properly respond to? Kokichi taps his fingers against his forearms from their crossed position. This was the worst part of the hump Kokichi came to whenever people tried to make him their friend; the high of being appreciated that prefaces the dramatic low of crushing their spirit once and for all. Nagito angered him a lot in how he managed to crush his own spirit long before Kokichi could get to it. It made even Kokichi not be able to predict how he would eventually ruin this damned partnership. Nagito retracted his hand when he was sure Kokichi wasn’t going to bleed out and die on the floor. “You’re okay. Your hair, on the other hand…” “My hair?” “I think you forgot to wash it this morning.” Kokichi chuckled a bit. It wasn’t something he was ashamed to admit, that he wasn’t able to put in the amount of care other people could when it came to hair. It had nothing to do with his already aggressively unhealthy habits that stemmed from the inability to grow up in the ways that made life less worthy of enjoying. It was totally not his fault either that his hair had gotten as bad as it had. As for who he could blame for it, Kokichi often deferred to blaming problems on the nearest person. “You’re seriously saying my hair is greasy and dirty like some orphan? I thought we were friends!” Kokichi got louder and louder with every word and readied himself to cry as obnoxiously as his voice could carry. “You’re so mean!-“ Nagito smiled brightly at his words, ignoring 90% of his words to fixate on the singular compliment hidden in his whining. “I’m glad you see someone as useless as me as a friend, Kokichi.” Kokichi blinked up at him from his chair. This guy was about to cry over Kokichi calling him his friend in a gesture meant to be annoying. It actually shocked the other boy enough to quiet him entirely. He’d have to get used to being out-weirded by someone.   Nagito was always excited to tell Hajime everything about his assignment at Future Foundations Halfway Hospital when he left in the afternoon. The hotel he was temporarily stationed in was a walkable distance from the building that rewarded Nagito with being able to get comfortably lost in his own mind. No songbirds or raucous students filled the streets like in his despair-induced prison, and Nagito was slowly learning to appreciate that. But after all these years, the one constant between the game and his new life has been Hajime. When Nagito opened his eyes for the first time in that capsule, mind filled with darkness when he thought about what would become of him and the rest of his classmates, Hajime was there with his palm out. Despite everything that happened in that simulation, Hajime reached out for him in the abyss and pulled him back onto solid ground. If Nagito hadn’t already promised Hajime to work on his “problematic” ideals surrounding talent and worth, he would have sworn then and there that only Hajime should have been allowed to maintain his Ultimate talents. Only Hajime could carry the world and then some with such a soft expression. Nagito couldn’t help but feel deep down that he wasn’t good enough to even think about Hajime that way sometimes. When Nagito thought about Hajime and those sickly warm emotions bubbled inside of him, it felt intrinsically wrong to allow himself that feeling. Here he was, at his hotel getting ready to video chat with Hajime about all of this supposed progress he’s made interacting with others and all he can do is demean himself. It was as if Nagito’s lack of self-worth trumped even his adoration for Hajime, though he’d never say that to his face. Hajime dealt with enough of Nagito’s problems; no need for more junk on top of the heap of trash that makes up the garbage pile Hajime has to sift through to keep Nagito from getting chucked out of the Foundation. For all that he loved about Hajime, Nagito couldn’t reconcile with the idea that Hajime spent as much time dedicated to him as he was to Hajime. It’d be like treating a human and a worm with the same care, after all. He also wouldn’t say Kokichi was doing as much better emotionally as he was letting on. “Why do you say that?” Hajime’s static-filled voice crackled through the room, lit by a single table lamp. He was stationed in Towa for the next month or so as part of his mentorship program with the young detective boy from Kokichi’s class. He left days ago as Shuichi Saihara had been far less resistant to Hajime’s proposal. And with Hajime being the one to put it forward, why would he be? Nagito has and would follow Hajime to the ends of the earth if he so much as implied it. Nagito leaned forward as he tried to explain his hunch in a way that wouldn’t make Hajime call in reinforcements. “You know how you thought I was just fine before I got Fake Byakuya killed?” “Yeah?” “Kokichi’s just… whenever I leave, he starts staring into space and he does this thing sometimes where he’ll rub his nails against his thumb like he’s nervous about something.” “That’s probably because he, and everybody else there, have just experienced the worst traumatic event they could have. Shuichi’s always crying when he thinks he’s alone; we gotta be patient with them.” Nagito held back his indignation at Hajime’s response. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Hajime levels a look at Nagito and clicks his tongue. “Hold on, you have more to say.” “Huh?” “I can see it in your face, so tell me. Why do you think Kokichi Ouma is going to crack and lose his mind?” There it was again. That funny feeling that Hajime could observe things about him now; that Hajime noticed things he never expected Hajime to notice. “It’s hard to explain.” Nagito couldn’t put his finger on why Kokichi’s mannerisms felt so unnerving to him. Kokichi wasn’t like Nagito, his nails didn’t break skin when they grazed and his stare didn’t invoke an immediate response of apprehension from others. That kid was an enigma to Nagito too at times, but he had learned in their short time to trust his instincts around him, and his instincts were screaming as loudly as his brain did. “Okay. I’ll make a note about his behavior and if anything happens between now and the departure date let me know and I’ll bring it up to Makoto.” “Anything for you, Hajime.” “Good night, Nagito.” Good night he said. To Nagito, of all people. He really was too far gone if he was replaying the way Hajime said it over and over again in his mind. If Hajime said to have a good night, Nagito would quiet his troublesome thoughts and calm his restlessness to make it so.   “Why can’t we leave now!?” “Because you won’t use a cane. If you don’t want the cane, you have to keep going until you don’t need one anymore.” “A cane is gonna make me look old, like you.” Nagito sighed. Just when he thinks they’ve made progress, Kokichi decides to start causing problems again. Was he really this bad when he was younger? On second thought, he shouldn’t answer that. “Then we have to keep doing physical therapy.” “But I don’t wanna.” Kokichi whined from his bed, arms resting on the railing. In circles the conversation went. Most of Kokichi’s class was already away at their mentorships, not that the boy had noticed. He was so preoccupied with going undiscovered that the slow erasure of his entire class had passed him by. Kokichi was one of the last remaining students in the recovery portion and Nagito was starting to wish he could just pack Kokichi away on a small boat and send him to Jabberwock himself. After the day he started walking, Kokichi had apparently decided his recovery ended and he was alright to leave which halted therapy. So here he was, hanging out in Kokichi’s room and trying not to lose his calm demeanor. “Just take the cane, Kokichi, so you can go.” “I’ll be leaving either way, I’m not taking the cane.” That wasn’t an option anymore, though. Breathe. If he were a bratty kid version of himself just after Danganronpa, what would get him out of bed? Komaeda feigned exasperation, patting his hands on his knees as he sat back down. “You’re right, there’s no point in getting you out of bed now. I guess you’ll just be the last to go.” Kokichi hummed in delight but then he paused. “Wait. What do you mean last?” “All of your classmates are going to their internships. A lot have already gone while you were in here moping about not wanting to go to therapy. But it’s fine, we’re not in any rush.” “I’m going to be last?” “Yeah, but it’s okay. You don’t care about being last, right?” “Of course I don’t.” Kokichi tapped a finger against the railing and his eyes were drawn towards the floor. “I love being last.” “Good.” “But if I’m last place, then what are my diehard parasocial fans going to think? I can’t let them down!” “Oh yeah, your fans… you’d probably really disappoint them if they knew you were escaping hospice last.” “Me, below Miu of all people?!” Kokichi roused himself up, pulling down the railing and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. “No way! I’d die of embarrassment then!” “True.” Kokichi stood up, using Nagito’s readied hands as a support beam. “Give me the stupid cane.” “Don’t worry. All the coolest supervillains have canes.” Nagito supplied as they began leaving the room to let the doctors know. “Yeah, yeah, you’re totally gonna spend that entire boat ride making it look epic enough for me to be seen with it.” Nagito stopped. “Kokichi I’m not going with you.” “What?” “I’ll be on the boat after you for your safety. My luck and travelling is a bad match.” “So I’m gonna have to be on a smelly boat by myself for however many days?” “It won’t be so bad. You’ll get to the resort first so you’ll have first pick of the room you want and you can hang out in the game room by yourself.” “Yeah but it’s boring on my own. I have to be crushing someone at Final Hearts 5 for it to be any fun.” “I’ll only be a day behind you, and then you can crush me at any game you like.” “Fine.” Kokichi huffed. When Komaeda started walking away, Kokichi’s gaze lingered on him a little longer than necessary. “But you’ll have to hang out with me for twice as long to make up for it.” “Deal.”    Kokichi was a little too excited to finally get on the boat to Jabberwock after all his time in recovery, mind distracted with images of lounging on the beach and wreaking havoc on the guests while Nagito tried and failed to get any work done. Too excited, really. The boat to Jabberwock was the same depressing grey tones of the medical complex and there was only one guy on the boat besides the captain: Him. The boat swayed endlessly, which made navigating it with his cane too difficult for Kokichi to bother trying. He spent the first day mostly sat down at a table and slapping dollar store stickers Nagito had left him all over his cane. The black cane became a multicolored mess of different intellectual properties and bootleg characters by the end of the afternoon. Kokichi resolved to learn about each and every cartoon on the cane the next time he had access to cable. When nighttime came, Kokichi settled into a rocking bed in one of the many holds on the ship. Nightmares came to stay and dreams disappeared into thin air just before they could soothe him. Spending so many nights up in the hospital had ruined his sleeping schedule, that was it. The nightmares would go away soon, as would the sweating and the shaking and the limp and the palpitations and the memories… Yeah, Kokichi was just a few more steps away from being himself.  Stepping off the boat, Kokichi looked up at the resort that was Hotel Mirai and tried to imagine all the hell he would raise here. When Nagito said Kokichi would get first pick, he had meant it. It was very early in the day, when a blue haze still blanketed everything and the sun rested just below the mountains, and any residents were no doubt fast asleep. Kokichi was jealous of their ability to sleep at such normal times. His backpack jostled around as he crossed the boardwalk of the hotel leisurely. Following the map supplied to him by Nagito, Kokichi found the dedicated employee area near the end of a line of nearly identical rooms. Four separate rooms made up this area, with one being labelled Nagito Komaeda and two others being labelled vacant. The last room right beside Nagito’s had no name or vacancy sign, but when Kokichi tried to open it out of curiosity, the door was locked. When he found a new lock-picking kit, he’d surely have to solve that mystery. For now, he took the room opposite Nagito’s and left the one opposite the mystery room vacant for whatever Foundation members decided to torture themselves and visit during his internship. The door to the vacant employee room was unlocked from the inside and Kokichi was amazed to find that even the employees got decent rooms. To most it wasn’t much; a bed, a tv, and nice wood floors, but to Kokichi it was another step into this unfamiliar world. As Kokichi flung himself onto the soft bed, he sighed. Maybe this step would be his favorite one.   An hour later Kokichi woke up from a fitful nap to light streaming in through his curtains. The light was warm and soothing but Kokichi, who hadn’t lived in a room with windows in a long while, wasn’t used to the sensations. Kokichi stood up, looking through the window as the sun rose higher in the distance. With one hand resting on the sill, Kokichi pushed back his curtains further and allowed the room to be bathed in light. Yeah, he was really enjoying this part of his journey.    Kokichi slept for most of the morning under the warm blanket of sunlight and woke up around late afternoon to eat. The kitchens within the hotel restaurant were mostly filled with pre-packaged foods and frozen meals stuffed into cabinets. Kokichi heated up some cheap ramen using the nearby kettle and was pleased to find the fridge filled to the brim with Panta brand grape soda on his way out. What do you do when there’s nobody to talk to on an island filled entirely with people who Future Foundation is only housing until they can get somewhere habitable? Kokichi would say just take over the tv in the lobby. Talking at the tv while he eats warm ramen and sips from a can of grape soda, Kokichi feels less like an employee and more like a kid home alone on a Saturday night, waiting for their parents to get home and breaking every rule they set in the process. It’s quiet when he’s alone. So very quiet.   Kokichi sets an internal alarm to be on the docks of Jabberwock by 4 am and not a moment later. He needs to greet Komaeda when he gets here and complain about how boring it’s been without anyone to hit with his cane. As much as he absolutely hates Komaeda, he’s definitely not quiet. In retrospect, Kokichi perhaps overshot the arrival of Komaeda’s boat by a bit. Okay, maybe a little more than a bit. Kokichi was sat on the bed of the dock for two hours with only a cup of instant stew and another soda can before the boat housing Komaeda came into view and another hour waiting for the boat to dock. It took a short while before Nagito’s telltale hair came into Kokichi’s line of vision, during which the commander of the boat raced past him with a sickly green palor on his face.His eyes were drooping as he lugged a rolling backpack behind him down the ramp and when he looked up, Kokichi threw his hand high in the air and waved it with as much strength as he could muster so early in the morning. It was only then that Kokichi remembered he wasn’t supposed to care that Komaeda was here. He awkwardly put his hand in the pocket of his cargos and whistled a lazy tune. Nagito didn’t bother hiding how happy he looked to be off the boat and waved at Kokichi as he picked up his pace slightly to meet him. “Hey Kokichi! Settling in well, I hope?” “Pssh, this place sucks. My room is nowhere near big enough for all the cool stuff I wanna put in it! You didn’t tell me the only people who’d be here were geezers like you.” “Do you not like your room?” “It’s so tiny! I’ve never lived somewhere so small!” Kokichi laughed. “That’s a lie, though. I mean, I’d never invite the prime minister over but maybe someday it’ll be worthy of my expensive tastes.” “That’s a relief.” Komaeda chuckled. “Mhm, but thankfully the tv in the lobby has enough trash reality tv to distract me from our shitty situation.” “I hate reality tv. All those people, pretending they have any talent-“ “I love it. There’s this one show, oh my god, about a ton of different families swapping wives and it is so messy! All seven seasons recorded on the DVR thingy too, thank your ancient technology. You’re watching it with me now.” “Oh, but I kinda have to unpack…” “Get one of those plebians to do it! You have to catch up to me so we can binge them all together!” Komaeda allowed Kokichi to yank him by his coat sleeve, luggage providing more resistance than he did as they crossed over the sand and arrived inside of the lobby where Kokichi had set up a proper trash tv binging buffet.    “…Komaeda! You’ve been distant lately, is everything okay over there?” Komaeda blinked himself out of his daze. Kokichi had stuck by his word of doubling their hangouts and forced Komaeda to spend his morning watching grating tv shows immortalized in VHS tapes for the punishment of him specifically. At some point, Kokichi had gotten up and stood in front of the tv narrating over everything as if it would provide some hidden insight on why a rich woman was so distraught over her sisters’ boyfriend calling her stuck up. It was complete nonsense, but Komaeda couldn’t fall asleep. It was unexpectedly compelling how these men and women with no talents or skills managed to intrigue them. Kokichi was the liveliest he had been since waking up talking about the plot of the shows too, so he could count that as their progress for the day. Win-win scenario all around until now. Because Hajime’s smooth voice and the rapidly disappearing sun against the sea-salty air was lulling Komaeda into catching up on the days of missed sleep he needs to function. “Komaeda!” “Sorry!” Komaeda jolted up; he tried to wipe his face and appear alert for their check-in. “It’s fine, just try to get some rest tonight, alright? You look half-dead.” “Ha…” “Not funny. Go. Sleep. We can check in tomorrow.” “We have to do these daily, Hajime. Ask me the questions, I promise I won’t fall asleep.” “Don’t worry about the questions. Don’t push yourself so hard after just getting there. Goodnight, Komaeda.” In his daze, Komaeda momentarily forgot that Hajime was supposed to be such an unattainable fantasy of his. With such a distance between them as Hajime finished up his stationed work in Towa, it too makes it easier to talk to him like this, the way he wishes he could let himself. As if he was diseased again, he allows a short response to slip past his lips. “Sweet dreams, Hajime.” Komaeda dreams of equally saccharine sweet scenarios when Hajime ends the call and he finally lets his head fall onto his wooden desk.  “I am not wearing this stupid uniform!” Kokichi threw the shirt on the ground of his room and sat on his bed with some force. “It’s just a shirt, Kokichi.” “It’s a symbol of how Future Foundation wants to turn me into one of you cookie-cutter goodie two-shoes and get rid of all my best traits. It’s totally illegal!” “I don’t think work uniforms are illegal…” “And you! You don’t even wear a uniform!” “I did, but it caught fire.” And so did the multiple replacements Future Foundation gave him. That was a story Kokichi wanted to hear, but another time, when he wasn’t kicking his feet and screaming about his right as a teenager to individuality or whatever excuse he was using this time. “Lame white shirt… It’ll make me look like a nerd.” Kokichi whined into his pillow. “You don’t have to wear it if you really don’t want to. I’ll just tell Future Foundation you wanna go back to the hospital with your last few classmates and to try again with someone else.” “You’re the worst person alive. I know experts of torture who wouldn’t sink this low.” “The Future Foundation thinks you wearing the uniforms will foster… teamwork.” “The teamwork I’ll gain from being the only intern in a hundred-mile radius.” Kokichi muttered, head peeking out from his pillow to give Komaeda a look of pure disinterest. “There’s not much I can do about it. Hajime is going to visit the island soon to check on how we’re doing things.” Komaeda placed an unsteady hand on his back and patted it twice before retracting it. “It’ll be easier to start now.” Kokichi lifted his head and trained his purple eyes onto Komaeda. “Nagi?” “Mhm?” “Can I at least get something cool to design it with? Pretty please with rainbow sprinkles on top because you’re so fruity?” “I don’t see why you couldn’t… I’ll see what I can do.” “Awesome! You may be okay looking like an apocalyptic zombie-man, but some of us like a little bit of flair in our lives.”   Hajime liked hearing about the nonsensical tidbits from their situation as much as Komaeda liked sharing them, which made their check-ins far and away the most rewarding part of his busy days. “And then he told me that Future Foundation was a “dictatorship and not the fun kind like the one I’m going to create.”” Hajime chuckled and his connection fizzled for a minute. “That kid is a real piece of work, isn’t he?” “It’s hard sometimes, but I think I’ve cracked the code on him.” “Guys like you and him don’t really have a code, just a bunch of puzzles the rest of us are too dumb to figure out.” “You’re the smartest guy I know, Hajime! If anyone could understand a loser-“ “Ah! Fix it.” “-I mean someone like me, it’s you.” Hajime was too good at catching Komaeda when he was beginning to spiral into self-hatred again, a hold-over from their years of similar intervention work. It would be annoying if Hajime wasn’t so hopeful that Nagito could be somebody semi-normal like the rest of their classmates. “The hope is that with this little internship program, you’ll be able to show that you’re perfectly understandable.” “I don’t think giving me someone the foundation thinks is as much of a freak as me is gonna help.” Hajime sighs, but he doesn’t refute the point. “Think of it as hard mode on a video game; if the foundation sees you turn around one of their biggest flight risks, they’ll have to let you be a full member.” They both smile, fond memories of video games and cat hoodies wafting in whenever one of them so much as broached the topic. “I’ll try. Between you and me, Kokichi isn’t unbearable.” “Then you’ll be a member before you know it.” Hajime was interrupted when a feminine voice called to him from outside his room. “Sorry; duty calls. Good night, Komaeda.” “Good night, Hajime.” And like the Samaritan he is, Hajime doesn’t end the call until Komaeda has said his piece. As Komaeda stares at the call, he ruminates on something he neglected to mention to Hajime, maybe purposefully. Until Kokichi came by, he didn’t think his brand of obsessive and abnormal behavior was something replicable by other human beings. Even Hajime, who somehow beat Nagito in the category of worst backstory to an ultimate talent, was relatively well-adjusted most of the time. Kokichi was a very small, very concentrated amount of bad luck and worse choices. Everything about him screamed a lightning rod for Komaeda’s luck cycle to finally come back in full force and yet… Weirdly enough, it wasn’t awful around him. It wasn’t gone per say, Komaeda was only afforded that peace of mind with Hajime’s great talent, but Kokichi was alive. People didn’t tend to stay out of the hospital for very long after meeting him. Why was Kokichi somehow above other people? Nagito wasn’t the ultimate detective, and she wasn’t exactly in the circle of people he would say enjoy his presence (all 3 of them), but it didn’t’ take an ultimate to think it was a bit fishy. Nagito was, for lack of a better term, the type to look any gift horse in the mouth. Especially when it came to his talent. It had little to do with his growing fondness for the kid and the growing concern for his safety the longer they spent together. Komaeda didn’t care about Kokichi. If he were younger, less medicated, Komadea would have willingly cared about Kokichi and let him carry that awful burden because making normal people experience the beautiful horror of his ultimate talent was a minor obsession he partook in when he still thought Ultimates were gods to be perceived. But he was older now, and slightly more medicated. Kokichi was a normal boy; he’s barely even an adult who still pretends to be a larger-than-life dictator despite knowing there’s no use for such a talent in this world. Worse, he’s undoubtedly good underneath that façade of hatred. Komaeda would not let himself become friends with Kokichi. He would simply kill the kid with kindness and one day Kokichi will get better and go back to the mainland alone. And Komaeda will go back to his quiet life.  The plan gets foiled fast the next night in the week. They had been doing such a good job too. Kokichi was improving, they both had said so again and again. He was doing decently with the cane, and he was getting accustomed to spending daytime as the receptionist/janitor/bellhop/whatever job Komaeda couldn’t perform reliably without setting off an explosion. Kokichi was even starting to brag that he was healing too quickly and would leave before he ever got to see another Foundation member. So, Komaeda was allowed to be shocked when he walked into the lobby and Kokichi was sat on the couch with his head in his hands, the tv paused on a static image and remote on the floor next to it, a small chip in the wall revealing how it ended up there. He lowered his hands, which cradled a checkered jacket he’d begged Gundham to send him from his extensive wardrobe. Komaeda was hoping it would finally assuage Kokichi’s numerous employee fashion tips and lost the pep in his step. “Kokichi?” Kokichi froze the second his voice broke the silence. It took a minute before Kokichi responded, saying “I wasn’t crying.” “I didn’t think you were.” “Good, cause I wasn’t!” Komaeda looked ahead, eyes catching a show on screen he remembered from his childhood about a group of magical ponies. If he thought really hard, he might remember seeing it on one of the sticker sheets he had picked up from the gas station before they left. The show was quite a ridiculous series to imagine drove Kokichi of all people to sobs. He was headstrong, perhaps even too headstrong, when it came to emotions. With every second that passed Komaeda felt he was missing precious moments to prove that they had made progress. Komaeda couldn’t for the life of him communicate now what progress was even supposed to mean, but that didn’t stop him from beating himself down for their apparent lack thereof. He couldn’t help the familiar disappointing feeling of failure settling in his gut that maybe they hadn’t made any progress at all. Maybe they were just getting by hoping it was happening to them without doing much to create it. Komaeda sat down, firmly cementing his choice to try to help. “Is something wrong?” Kokichi sniffs and turns away. “That is such a stupid cliché thing to say, oh my god.” “Sorry.” “Don’t say sorry, that’s worse.” Komaeda shut his mouth, effectively out of sympathetic phrases to parrot. They sat there for what could have been 5 minutes or 5 years before Kokichi finally felt confident that speaking wouldn’t illicit more unwanted emotional outbursts. “Am I ever not gonna need this stupid cane?” “What?” “You know, right? You were talking to the doctors the whole time I was in therapy. Is this cane temporary or…forever?” The word felt like acid coming out of Kokichi’s throat, threatening to throw him back into hysterics completely if he didn’t get it out now. Komaeda was at a loss for words; words that would appease Kokichi. They never talked about it then and Komaeda had foolishly hoped that meant he had avoided it. He should’ve known it wouldn’t go unnoticed by Kokichi; he wasn’t half as dumb as he pretended to be. An irreversible fracture of the knee. That’s what the doctors had said. Something about his reflexes kicking in under the hydraulic press when he was crushed, leading his right leg to sustain more internal damage than the rest of his body. Being able to put any weight on it at all was a miracle and spoke to how headstrong Kokichi was. “That’s why you wanted me to get used to the cane so bad, wasn’t it? I’m stuck like this, and you lied to me so I’d come to this crappy island and be your little intern.” “The doctors said it wasn’t impossible for your leg to heal.” “Not impossible.” He mocks. “That’s just a roundabout way of saying it’s not gonna happen so stop asking.” “Kokichi-” “I kept telling myself I was so close to being me again and you were lying. I hate liars! And it was the worst kind of lie; you lied to give me some fake hope that I was gonna be able to… I don’t know… Be okay? I’d be fine with just okay.” “Having a cane doesn’t mean you aren’t still recovering, it doesn’t make you any less close to healing-“ “But it means everything was real!” Kokichi raises his voice. It isn’t in the annoying shrillness he uses to lighten the mood. It was angry, not trying to hide how betrayed he felt. “It means I did all those things and I got crushed and nobody cared. It means that game is still here in this damn limp and that stupid show isn’t just a bad dream. It’s inside of me for the rest of my life and now I have to feel that dumb game every time I walk.” Kokichi grits his teeth and his hands turn red as he wrings them aggressively and tugs on his fingers. “I can’t sleep or eat. I can’t stand how long it take me to think of lies now. I haven’t stopped telling myself I’m just one step away from being normal and now I know I’ll probably never make that step ever because I’ll always be connected to that game whether I want to be or not.” “Danganronpa-“ Kokichi shudders, pressing into himself more. Komaeda curses himself for slipping up. “That game was hell. Nobody deserves what happened when we were trapped in the game.” “I did.” “If you did, I definitely did.” Komaeda chuckles awkwardly. Kokichi doesn’t laugh. “Does that voice in your head that tells you all these awful things about how you should have been left in the game ever… ya know, fuck off?” “No, but it gets quieter and quieter. One day you probably won’t even hear it most of the time.” “Are you lying again?” “Not this time, sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’ve been there. I’m still there.” Kokichi lifts his head up and stares at Komaeda when he says that. Moments pass by without a word spoken between them, but there’s nothing else to be said really. The only thing left to do was decide if this was finally real. Kokichi scoots closer minutely as Komaeda stares at the pastel horses. After a moment of hesitation, Kokichi leans into Komaeda’s side for comfort. “If you tell anyone I cried over some dumb ponies I will find a way to kill you, luck be damned.” “There goes my report to the foundation on the healing power of cartoon ponies.” “Shut up, you smelly loser.” He sniffs. “Okay. Just cause you asked nicely.” Komaeda gives Kokichi a short side-hug and rubs his arm against the sleeve of his Jabberwock Novelty T-Shirt. Affection was still something the two of them struggled to properly convey. “And since we’re being mushy and gross right now, uh, you didn’t deserve to stay there either. You’re not nearly as crappy as my boring classmates. Those bozos can’t even make other people fall down the stairs by winning gacha pulls.” It’s weird, being the person doing the comforting. Komaeda is glad Kokichi doesn’t seem to care that he’s so bad at everything about being the responsible one. He decides to consider this progress too, because Kokichi having bad days isn’t a lack of it. It’s just them on this island with their thoughts, dark as they were; they could only rely on one another for the most important parts of recovering from this trauma. In hindsight, his plan was probably partially his own attempt to shield a kid he thought was spared the worst of the mental turmoil from his own constant uphill climbing. He knew it was coming, that inevitable catharsis, just not how destructive Kokichi would react to it. It's a harsh reminder that Kokichi is as much that younger version of Komaeda as Hajime likes to poke fun at. “What’s that?” “A jacket for you.” Kokichi holds it in his hands and turns it around. His eyes dilate, betraying his feigned nonchalance. “It’s ugly, but I can make it work.” “You’re welcome.” They watch more trashy tv that night, saving the cartoon ponies for another day.   “Are you excited for your little boyfriend to visit?” Kokichi replaced knick-knacks on the desk of the receptionist lobby and thumbed a little tune on the small bell as they lounged around waiting for a new boat to arrive with injured civilians. “He’s not my boyfriend.” “You’re like one compliment away from licking the dirt off his shoes, you are totally into him.” “I’m gonna ignore that.” Kokichi blows a raspberry at his dodging of the very true fact that he is embarrassingly infatuated with Hajime Hinata. “He’s only coming over to check in and make sure you’re still alive.” “But I’m so very dead; I died of boredom like three weeks ago.” “Try not to convince Hajime you’re dead when he gets here.” “There goes all my plans for Hajime Week. What am I supposed to do when you guys are sucking faces then?” “Doing your job?” “Boring. Next idea.” “Maybe you can use it to check out the other islands.” “Nah. Titty Typhoon is the kind of thing that’s more trick other people into visiting.” “Then you should get used to working.” A nearby crash makes them both jump up before they let out mirroring sighs. Another broken fixture. “I’ll get the broom.” Kokichi piped up.   “Do I look okay?” “You look awful!” Kokichi giggled before yawning. Why did boats have to arrive so early? “Great. Cool.” Komaeda gave one more decisive pat of his jacket before he resumed his proper stance on the docks alongside Kokichi. “Why do I have to be here? I was just about to fall asleep.” “Doesn’t it look more professional if Hajime sees us both before you disappear for the rest of the morning?” “I don’t really care what looks good, I wanna crash in your room and destroy your stuff while you guys get all weird.” “He’s almost here. Then you can go sleep wherever you want.” “He can’t get here fast enough.” Jabberwock island was cold in the early mornings, especially now as they entered the fall and the sun poked out less often from behind those thick clouds. Kokichi wrapped his thick jacket closer around him. He could feel himself sway as he stood there waiting and laughed internally at the idea of falling asleep standing there like a horse. Finally, the familiar boat appeared nearby and a small group of injured folks made their way off first. Komaeda took charge and directed them to wait in the lobby for their room assignment while Kokichi mumbled along in his stupor. After they left the docks, Komaeda went right back to waiting. When he gasped, Kokichi took it as his queue to finally see who made this guy so uptight in the first place. But it wasn’t Hajime he noticed. Hajime was already making his way over to Komaeda with a small wave, two younger people trailing behind him uncertain. Kokichi wanted to disappear all over again; Why them? Why here? “Kokichi?” The voice was too familiar, too reminiscent of a time he was still trying to accept even happened. Shuichi Saihara and Kaede Akamatsu stood a few feet ahead of him while Hajime and Komaeda reconnected, both as flabbergasted as he was. Breathe in. Kokichi tugged discretely on Komaeda’s sleeve. “Can I go now?” Komaeda grits his teeth for a second at the bluntness of his words before his eyes flash behind Hajime and he nods in understanding. “Yeah. Go ahead. My room is unlocked.” Kokichi doesn’t bother to listen to anything past his words of confirmation, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement to Hajime before hobbling away to the employee rooms.   “Sorry, it was totally last minute. Ibuki wanted to take the next few days off before we organized this so nobody else had the time to take her and Shuichi didn’t want to stay behind either.” “It’s fine. The more the merrier.” “Kokichi doesn’t think that.” Hajime and Komaeda wall through the busy lobby and towards the employee rooms. Behind them, Kaede and Shuichi look around in restrained curiosity at the well-decorated hotel. “Is this too much?” “He’s a great intern, trust me. Kokichi does half the job with his eyes closed, he’ll be more than fine as long as he’s left alone.” “You know I trust you. I’m just worried this is gonna cause more harm than good.” “You’re here now. Let’s make the best of it.” “You’re right. I’m not really itching to get back on that smelly boat either.” Hajime tries to break the tension with the joke, raising his voice so that the two stragglers know it’s directed at everyone. Kaede, ever the savant of social interactions, gives him a hand. “Yeah, it took forever to get here! The Hotel Mirai looks so nice too, I’m excited to spend some time in a place like this for a change.” Shuichi nods. As they reach the employee rooms, Komaeda sucks in a breath. “Wait. There’s only enough vacant rooms for Hajime and Shuichi. We had no idea Kaede was coming so we didn’t prepare.” He gives Kaede an apologetic look but Hajime steps in. “Don’t worry about that. I already talked to them about it and Kaede said she’ll take a normal room if you have one.” “Oh! Then let me show you what’s free.” He lets Hajime show Shuichi his key and room while he chaperones Kaede to a nearby residential room. He assigns her a room not more than 5 rooms away from everyone else and manually unlocks it. “Feel free to come to me with anything. I know it’s not as close as you guys might have wanted so if I can help in any way, let me know.” “You’re Kokichi’s guardian, right?” “Yeah, that’s me.” “Can you tell him something for me? I tried to tell him back there but…” “You can leave a message with me, but I can’t guarantee it’ll reach Kokichi’s plugged ears.” “He’s really stubborn, huh? I didn’t get to know him well before now. Can you tell him I want to get to know him? Like buddies?” “I can do that.” Komaeda nods. “Cool, now I’ll get out of your fluffy head of hair, alright? I’m so tired from all that travelling I feel like I’m gonna pass out any minute now.” “Don’t let me stop you.” They said their goodbyes. Komaeda let out a breath. She seems nice. He decides to stop by his room before he takes over the morning duties; making sure Kokichi is fine as well as silently fanboying over his dumb crush were on the list of reasons for this little pit stop. Komaeda stops just short of his room as he notices the hunched in form of Shuichi in front of it. He holds onto his wrist and keeps raising his hand before dropping it again in an aborted attempt to knock. “Hello? Shuichi Saihara, yes? Did you need something from me?” He recoils when Komaeda cuts through his train of thought and Shuichi clasps his hands behind his back. “No sir. Sorry.” “I’m not gonna kill you or anything. Ha.” Shuichi grimaces and Komaeda has to remind himself once more that he really is not good at levity. “I just wanted to talk with Kokichi.” “Oh, uh, I’d rather you didn’t. He didn’t sleep at all last night, so he’s out like a light right now.” “Oh.” Awkward silence hangs between the two of them. “Did you wanna leave a message?” “No. I want to say it to his face. Can you let him know I want to talk to him? And that I want to apologize.” “I’ll tell him. You should go to bed too, you know. Nobody else is up now.” “I will. Thank you sir.” “No need for formalities like that, okay? Sleep well.” Shuichi retreated to his room across the hall. Komaeda waited until he heard the definitive creak of Shuichi’s door closing to open his own door. “He’s gone, you can stop pretending.” Kokichi poked his head out of the covers. “Your sheets are so much softer than mine. Are you hiding some luxurious mattress store from me?” “They’re the same exact type as yours. You have two new messages.” “Ugh, delete them.” He made a buzzer sound akin to an answering machine and flopped back under the covers dramatically. “You should hear them out. They sound like they really wanna bury the hatchet with you. I would take it.” “Yeah, because you’re such a sappy idiot. I’m a cruel leader of darkness, I’m not gonna do any of that junk.” “Okay, cruel leader of darkness. Please don’t leave the door open when you wake up this time.” “Leaders don’t close doors, their minions do it for them!”   Hajime sat at one of the many tables of the dining area of Hotel Mirai cradling a coffee thick with caramel flavoring. While it wasn’t his usual drink of choice for lunch, it would suffice until Jabberwock was able to procure more varied dishes from the mainland. It was far later in the day now and the sun was shining bright in the sky, with minimal traffic from the current residents as they heated noodles or made bowls of cereal. He loved his job, he really did, but even Hajime couldn’t deny he enjoyed being able to sit at a table like this without the constant hounding of fellow Foundation members. Now that they had finally pushed back some of the devastation, the members were given some pliability with their breaks. Hajime preferred to spend breaks with Komaeda nowadays, but he was almost always away on the island now trying to prove himself to the Foundation long after everyone else in their class had been accepted in. If it were him, he would have taken it very personally to have been singled out so obviously, but Komaeda wasn’t the kind. Still, Hajime could tell it was a bit overkill how obsessively Future Foundation protected itself from Nagito Komaeda. Hajime wouldn’t even say he was the worst of them, but Komaeda had undergone what he considered an effective amount of healing. Komeada didn’t even freak people out as much anymore! Hajime sighed; at the end of the day, none of them were high enough on the corporate ladder to plead his case but Hajime himself and they were still not budging. Even Makoto had made a comment on it, which they could only hope wouldn’t go as badly as it did last time he stuck his leg out. They could only focus on the present and lighten the load they all carry. That includes their charges. “So, what are you both planning to do today?” He gestured with his coffee towards the two teens beside him. “I wanted to check out the 3rd island. Ibuki said the acoustics at the club there were awesome!” “Sounds fun, how about you Shuichi?” “I was going to check out the library on the 2nd island.” “Good to know you guys’ll be having fun without me.” “What are you gonna do today, Hajime?” “Oh, I’m going to take it easy until tomorrow. After today I’m just shadowing Komaeda and Kokichi to make sure they have everything they need.” “Sounds interesting! Ibuki told me Komaeda has insanely good luck, that must be fun!” “It sounds better than it is. You guys make sure to take care of yourselves, alright?”  Kokichi sat on his swivel chair in the lobby and re-assembled his line of miscellaneous tchotchkes- which he had aptly named his plastic platoon- for the thousandth time that day. They had finally settled the last of the small troupe of citizens which meant Kokichi was now just waiting for something interesting to happen or some mess to be cleaned. So far, he only needed to pick up after another person who slipped on his pristine floors as Komaeda had found a lucky penny nearby. Mostly, he was trying not to be obvious about how nervous he was for Shuichi or Kaede to corner him while he was on the job; he would never admit it to anyone, but he didn’t entirely hate his job. He was still the evilest thing he could think of, a landlord, and he took his role extremely seriously. Leaving that room felt like entering enemy lines and leaving himself open to the firing of truth… pellets or something. Every time someone came in and out of the lobby, from midday until night-time, Kokichi would duck slightly behind his desk and was made painfully aware it appeared weird for the receptionist to be hiding from the people he checked in a few hours ago. After his long and strenuous day of re-enacting a night-time security guard, Kokichi let out a sigh of relief when Komaeda and Hajime came back from their weird pseudo-professional conversations where they both seem desperate to re-enact The Notebook. Kokichi brightens as he sees Komaeda’s foggy eyes and mentally flips his working switch from on to off. “Nagi! It’s time for more Wife Swap! We’re almost done with season 4!” Komaeda gives him a strained look that spells out his embarrassment at being outed for enjoying the cinematic masterpiece that is early 2000s English Sensationalist Dramas. Kokichi can’t help his own grin at successfully embarrassing the poor guy when Hajime pipes up. “Can I join you guys? Shuichi and Kaede are still not back from their little adventures, so I need something to do.” “Only if you submit to the overwhelming addictive power of MTV.”“Sure, yeah, totally.” And so they forced the lobby couch to somehow fit two grown men and a munchkin-sized purple creature. Kokichi excused himself from the first 5 minutes to grab a mountain of drinks and chips from the dining area to make sure Hajime had the most authentic tv binging experience he could give as his future leader. That night, Kokichi introduced a high-ranking official to what he would refer to as “the height of civilization.” Hajime, on the other hand, ate barbeque chips and shared a look with Komaeda as Kokichi yelled at them both about how necessary it was to give their full attention to the screen during confessionals. It was fun. Komaeda got to hang out with his boy crush and Kokichi got to entertain someone who wasn’t immune to his annoyingness. Hajime probably also got something out of it, though Kokichi mostly cared about his super-secret vetting process he had initiated the minute Hajime Hinata had stepped off that boat. When Komaeda left with an excuse that he needed to use the facilities, Kokichi beamed. This was his opportunity! He glared at Hajime from his spot on the couch opposite him. “Hey, Hinata, right?” “Oma, right?” “Sure, listen Hina, how do you feel about Nagi, between two friends?” “We’re friends?” “Don’t dodge my questions.” “He’s cool. I like spending time with him, ya know?” “Uh-huh. How much do you like him?” “I think that’s kind of none of your business.” “Yes, it is.” Kokichi says. He fixes his face into something sillier a moment later. “Nagi is my new servant, so you have to treat him well or I’ll have to get rid of you. I spent a lot of time figuring out his deal and I don’t wanna have to replace him.” “No need to worry there. Komaeda was worth it to figure out.” Kokichi is satisfied with that and nods proudly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be worth figuring out for someone too.” Hajime added, a light laugh escaping him as he turned back to the tv. That was ominous. How dare Hajime know more about something than him? “I don’t know what that means, surfer boy, but trust that if you’re even thinking of dating him, you’re gonna have to get the okay from me first!” “Okay; deal.” He needed to make sure this guy was a worthy companion for his right-hand minion. No number of lovey-dovey looks or prolonged touches can sway Kokichi as a passive observer, which makes him the perfect not-friend of Komaeda to make sure this guy was worthy of the moniker of subordinate minion. With Kokichi curving the only other people his age on the island, he had a great deal of fun thinking up nonsensical trials for Hajime to clear before he would be given Kokichi’s blessing- not that anyone ever made it far enough for Kokichi’s blessing. Well, except… “Hajime! We were looking everywhere for you.” Kokichi’s thoughts were interrupted by the spritely voice of Kaede as she and Shuichi entered the lobby. Shuichi was holding a small mountain of books he would probably spend tonight reading in record time like the nerd he was. Kokichi sighed; time for him to make like the wind before his stupidly passionate questions were aimed at Kokichi again and he would flounder to answer anything but the truth. What was it about Shuichi that made it hard for Kokichi to lie effectively? It was really cramping his style. Hajime greeted the two teenagers with his typical reserved enthusiasm. He nodded, willing Hajime to keep their attention while he disappeared into the cushions. It didn’t work, of course, because Kokichi had so much bad luck it was practically his second Ultimate talent. “Kokichi.” Shuichi greeted him from behind his pile of literature awkwardly. Kokichi tried not to react, pretending he cared about the end credits playing on the tv screen between episodes. Shuichi shifts. He expected as much from Kokichi, who had spent every waking minute trying not to acknowledge his existence, but it still hurt. “In case you didn’t hear, I told Komaeda to tell you I’m sorry.” “For what?” “Just… everything.” “Don’t act sorry just cause I look like this.” Kokichi didn’t like the way Shuichi looked at him shamefully; there was nothing to be ashamed of in his eyes. Shuichi did exactly what a perfect protagonist would and Kokichi knew he was the worst sometimes. The only thing it left for Shuichi to be saying sorry for was his scarred leg, and that made Kokichi more upset than if he just lied about wanting to be friends or something. “I’m not! I’m sorry because of how I treated you.” “You treated me the way everybody else did.” “But it wasn’t right.” “Yeah, it was. I wanted you guys to fail and I lost. Congrats, Shumai. The good guys won.” Kokichi stood up. This was the last conversation he wanted to have when he agreed to travel to a secluded island miles away from anybody who could have ever known him. “Nobody won, Kokichi.” “Sure we did. We’re alive, right? That makes us better off than the millions of dead people overseas. That’s a lie, though. We’re probably worse off with what’s left.” “Can we please talk?” “There’s nothing to talk about, Shuichi.” Kokichi raised his voice. Hajime and Kaede swapped concerned looks and Kokichi felt the sting of being watched, eyes crawling up and down his figure. Just like that trial room. Hajime intercepted, likely knowing full well how bad this conversation was going. “How about we calm down?” “No, it’s fine. I’m gonna go. I have stuff to do in my room anyways.” Kokichi left as fast as he could. “Well that went well.” Hajime sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” “You didn’t do anything wrong, Shuichi. I don’t think trying to get Kokichi to have a heartfelt talk is going to work out for either of you.” “And just because Kokichi is being difficult doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends with him, it just means we have to try twice as hard!” Kaede was more passionate than Shuichi even was about being friends with Kokichi, something that shocked them both. Maybe it was just how nice she was, or maybe she felt the same guilt he did despite Shuichi knowing she had no reason to. Maybe it was neither of the two; Kaede was as complicated as the rest of them were in the aftermath of it all. “Just don’t push too hard, though, guys. We don’t want the island to blow up.” “Again?” Komaeda added with that ominous laugh of his, finally back from the restroom. “Where’s Kokichi?” … “What? Did I miss something?” Hajime titled his head towards the reception desk, a silent urging to elaborate away from the two, and Komaeda nodded. While they spoke in hushed tones near a line of increasingly obscure plastic toys, Shuichi and Kaede stood near each other thoroughly defeated. Kaede, undefeatable in her goal, puts an arm around his shoulder and tries to be their hope. “He’ll come around! Remember how hard it was for you to look me in the eyes again when you woke up?” It wasn’t the grand pep talk she probably wanted it to be, but she wasn’t wrong. Shuichi wished sometimes that he could be so strong. Strong in the same way he could be in the simulation. “Yeah. And if he doesn’t, that’s fine too.” “As long as we try our best!” With Kaito being on the mainland with his guardian, some mechanic who looked like he needed the emotional guidance more than the astronaut, Kaede was the only real support he’s felt like he’s had since arriving. They were peas in a pod, Shuichi thought. She was his best friend and he wanted to be hers.    Kokichi didn’t end up going to his room. So what if he lied? The three of them were kind of stupid for not expecting it. Instead, he went to the game room, where he spent the next five hours creating his magnificent new player character and sipping his soda. By the time he wanted to start the game, however, it was too late at night, or perhaps too early in the day if the slow lighting change of the room was any indication. Kokichi watched the dark blanket of night get swept away into the dusk of a new day contentedly from his spot in front of a glowing machine inside a room whose four walls shielded him from those who wished to destroy the one good thing he had received in the wake of his life ending. It felt as safe as his old dorm did, with the added benefit of a window to remind him that the world kept turning, even when he didn’t care to notice. There were no curtains to draw in the game room, no bolted corners to keep the sunlight from peeking through and bathing Kokichi in the cold of a new day. In a past life, he would have complained about how allowing sunlight to ruin the perpetually nighttime feel of a game room was on par with biological warfare on every poor geek like him who relied on the lack of outside reminders of how much time they’d wasted. He was truly starting to appreciate the sunlight in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to in that past life. It was familiar, and yet all at once much more than before. He had become shockingly sentimental lately about everything in his life.   Kokichi and Shuichi didn’t cross paths at all the next day, which Kokichi was thankful to whatever God had given him such a merciful reprieve. It felt cliché for them to run to each other and have a tear-filled apology, hugging and promising to never leave each other ever again when Shuichi wouldn’t mean it. Even so, Shuichi was kind enough to never puncture the bubble of his safe space behind the desk. If he was being entirely truthful, a disgusting habit he had been forming recently, he was almost worried with just how effectively Shuichi had made himself scarce from his vision in such a short amount of time. Maybe they really had been given the wrong talents. Shuichi could give the ultimate hide-and-seeker a run for their money and Kokichi would pay to see it. For his part, he stayed out of Shuichi’s way by avoiding any place the nerd would possibly be caught dead in. It was similar to his first nights where he floated between the only three places in the hotel his mind could allow him to. The front desk, the nearby tv room, and Komaeda’s room if he really wanted to be nosy. Even now, he sat with his plastic platoon and gave them fake orders in a dazed state after spending the entire night binging an old game show in the tv room. He didn’t want to go to his room just yet. He didn’t need to be at the desk as often as he was, but there was something nice about doing so that Kokichi couldn’t quite pinpoint. Kokichi giggled; he stretched his taught muscles and leaned back in his plush chair. It was soft, perfect for a nap before his shift started, and it planted him directly in the protective warmth of the rising sun and its cumulonimbus friends.   “…kichi?” “… really sleeping?...hurts…” Voices slowly broke through his subconscious, melding perfectly with his restless black void of slumber. It felt so nice to have noises in the abyss of darkness that made up the few good naps he had. “…blanket…move him?” He doesn’t wanna move, but he probably should. Despite becoming intangible in the endlessness of this plane of existence, he can feel a distinct knot forming in his back. It’s hard for Kokichi to command his body to move when he’s so deep into his naps, though. That makes his growing discomfort a “future Kokichi” problem.   Future Kokichi was really starting to hate Past Kokichi’s decisions. He came to when the sun was high in the sky, almost certainly late to begin his shift, and on the couch of the tv room instead of the desk. He’s covered in a blanket he can’t recognize and the tv has been turned on. It’s barely audible, but it keeps the room from being too quiet. It is unsettling to think he’d slept so soundly that he could have been moved several feet and not roused at all. Not even in his past life, his life before everything, was Kokichi capable of drifting so far away. Was it such a bad thing, though? He hasn’t slept peacefully in ages and Komaeda knows he does his job well enough to be afforded at least three naps a day. It wasn’t a bad thing. But then, why did Kokichi feel so…vulnerable having let his guard down? He groans as he sits up, body resisting him as he tries to stand up. His cane is conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him and Kokichi can feel the creaking of his back as he leans over to grasp it. Another day.  Kokichi was trying to fish a stubborn frisbee down from the gutter of the hotel lobby because his life has admittedly gone a bit downhill since the day he was born. His leg was still sending those pesky nerve messages that he was in pain from standing without his cane since ladders just weren’t very friendly towards his predicament. He was half-considering using the little strength in his arms to try to hoist himself up onto the roof and give his leg a chance to stop shaking from the pressure he was putting on it when a throat cleared itself beneath him. Kokichi sighed, exasperated. “What do you want?” “Do you need some help?” Shuichi’s well-meaning, he supposes, but he really doesn’t know if he wants to stop avoiding his problems just yet. “Do I look like I need some help?” “No, I was just… trying to be helpful.” “The only way you can help me is if you can grow your arms really long and grab this stupid frisbee.” “I can’t do that, but-“ “Then I don’t think I need any help.” “Okay. Sorry I asked.” “You should be.” Kokichi grabbed a stray branch from the gutter and flailed it uselessly in the direction of the frisbee. Not quite there, but maybe if he got a little closer. “Uhm, Kokichi?” “I already said I don’t want your help.” A little further, maybe if he leans forward… “Yeah but-“ “Why can’t you just leave me alone!?” Kokichi snaps and miraculously, so does the ladder. As though struck by lightning the ladder clatters to the ground below Kokichi as he yelps and quickly latches onto the gutter with unsteady hands. He should have paid more attention in physical therapy when they talked about arm strength. It’s really hard supporting his body when he isn’t dangling precariously off the edge of a roof right next to the guy he’s been icing out the last few days. Shuichi shuffles underneath him before he mutters underneath his breath. “The ladder broke. Looks like the screws came apart.” “Great. Well, don’t let this absolute comedy act stop you from leaving.” “I can’t leave you like this, Kokichi, you could seriously hurt yourself.” “I’d bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “Of course not. Kokichi, I wish you’d just tell me why you hate me so much.” “I hate you because you’re a goody two-shoes whose obviously never been rejected or you’d get the hint I don’t want your dumb friendship.” “You don’t have to be friends with me for me to want to help you.” “But you think if you help me enough, I’ll eventually be friends with you. You’re all the same, you think I’m some scared little boy who needs your help to get by.” “I don’t think that! You’re one of the strongest people I know, Kokichi.” “You’re lying.” “You know a liar when you see one, Kokichi. Tell me, Am I lying to you?” Kokichi looks down, where Shuichi stands under him with his arms open. Not yet helping, but ready to do so. His eyes are steeled in the same way they had been in that place, determined and bare for everyone to admire. The way Kokichi admired so often back then. “I want to be your friend; I don’t need to defend that.” Kokichi knew his arms were going to give out soon. A large part of him, a part that had been growing in size since he opened his eyes in that bed, wants to let someone take this weight from him. A smaller part wants it to be Shuichi. Why is it so easy to let Komaeda in, to even let someone as impersonal as Hajime in, but so very hard to let Shuichi in again? “I thought I was destined to be alone.” “I want to be wrong about that.” And Kokichi was wrong to think Shuichi was anything less than the most trustworthy person he’d ever met. If only he realized it quicker. “I went to an island just to get away from you guys, I think that’s pretty indicative.” “I’ll try not to take it personally.” “I’m not easy. Komaeda can tell you a ton of things. He probably can’t stand me either.” A lighthearted phrase that Kokichi mistakenly allows too much emotion to flow into. “I like a challenge.” Kokichi scoffs. Whatever extrovert died and took over Shuichi’s body was making it really hard for Kokichi to get rid of one of the few good things he has. His arms are going numb now. He’s going to slip if he doesn’t let go. And Shuichi is there. He’ll catch him when he does. It clicks then, that Shuichi always kind of has been. “Fine. If you really wanna carry me like your new bride, I guess I can’t stop you.” Shuichi beams and steadies his feet. Kokichi lets out a breath, then one more. And he lets go.  The force of his small figure rocks Shuichi slightly when he lands in his arms but thank you to Maki’s lessons because Shuichi holds him steady after his initial whiplash. It would be something out of one of the old JDramas in his VHS collection if not for the fact the lost frisbee had chosen then to fall over the side. It hits Shuichi’s head lightly before it touches the ground. It’s ridiculous as hell. The thought of it all makes Kokichi laugh. Shuichi can’t help but laugh either, although nothing they just talked about is worthy of his laugh. It really is a pretty laugh. It doesn’t snort or hiccup like his does, not even when it gets loud and unrestrained. They stay there for a few moments giggling to themselves about how dumb they are, how dumb they’ll probably always be when it comes to each other. Kokichi isn’t sure he hates being dumb when it comes to Shuichi. Their laughs hitch as Shuichi’s eyes widen at something down the boardwalk. Hajime stands there, too confused to pretend he wasn’t seeing this. It suddenly strikes Kokichi that he’s hanging onto Shuichi like a rag doll and that Hajime has none of the context as to why. “Sir, uh, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.” “No need. Nagito found a four-leaf clover a minute ago.” It explains more than it should about the ladder breaking beyond repair at such an inopportune time. “I told Nagi to stop being so lucky on company time. If I have to put out another fire, I’m gonna start charging him for it.” Kokichi hops down and Shuichi hands him his cane while avoiding Hajime’s dissecting gaze. He grumbles as he walks off to go give Komaeda a piece of his mind and leaves Hajime and Shuichi behind. It’s another step forward.  “I can’t believe it.” Komaeda couldn’t stop the gasp that exited his mouth as he gazed at the horrid sight before him. “It’s unbelievable.” Hajime added. “Reprehensible.” Kokichi tacked on. The team they had been collectively rooting for on their favorite variety show had just lost the daily challenge and would have to send someone home. Hajime sighed with the weight of a father who’s favorite sports team had just forfeited their chance at nationals and popped open one of the grape sodas Kokichi had handed him while Komaeda snuck not too hidden glances towards the other in the middle of his sympathy sighs. “It’s all Troy’s fault too, if he didn’t totally fumble the last challenge they’d be safe.” Kaede piped up from her seat on the ground near Shuichi. “Do you think they’ll eliminate Troy?” “He’ll probably get invincibility for the drama.” “Nagi, cross your fingers, I do not want Priya to go home.” Hajime stopped Komaeda from actually doing it and causing any retroactive misfortune, fingers lingering a little too long to go unnoticed by the teens at the table in front of them. They each shared a single glance and snickered under their breath while the silently betted on who would go home tonight. Kokichi looked around. Shuichi sat by him as though any distance meant Kokichi’s quick disappearance into the ether, while Kaede sat at the other end of the short table and launched paper triangles at the small end goal he made with his fingers. Above the two of them, seated on the couch, were two… pretty decent people. Maybe even people Kokichi could trust. In the middle of them all was a litany of foods and drinks that reflected every personality present, like a smorgasbord of friendship and love. Even when the food is gone, though, Kokichi doesn’t think the warmth he feels will leave. That encompassing warmth he once thought only the rising sun could give him for a fleeting moment, that he wished he could capture in a bottle, was here. With it, he felt his fear dissipate into the autumn air. And here too, was his first step into forever.