Work Text:
He could only hear the mechanical ‘whirr’ of the hydraulic press starting up again. The cold of the metal seeped in through the jacket beneath him causing a shiver to roll down his spine. He was going to die, that was a fact he couldn't avoid. He placed his bandaged hand on the iron that would be crushing him in mere moments. He kept his mask on until the very end. He didn’t cry. Not a single sob. Just looked up at the stars reflected in the steel in wonder. What a beautiful way to die. He thought to himself as a single tear rolled down.
There was a moment of pain, it didn’t last. Just a single moment of pain that surged through him, and then…
He woke up. Jolting up from the soft mattress with a scream. The action was so sudden he nearly fell off the bed, arms barely catching him. He could hear people around him rushing, but he didn’t register it as he stared down at his hands. He was alive, his breath came in shaky gasps but fuck he was here. His heart was beating too fast. His mind screaming at him. God no.
“Let me go back.” He muttered as someone was talking about his vitals.
“You’re safe now Ouma-san.” A woman nearby said, placing a hand on his hair. Stop it. Only Saihara-chan is allowed to do that. He wanted to scream at her, instead his body reacted for him.
“Stop it! Let me go back!” He screamed as he shoved her back, arms reached out to restrain him and every time he fought them away. He yearned to feel the chill of his death once again. “PUT ME BACK IN! I WANT TO DIE!” Someone steadied his arm and with a sharp pinch he felt drowsy again, even that he fought against. “No, please. I want to go back!” He yelled with the last of his strength. Within moments he was back in that haze of darkness.
The next time he woke up it was much slower. Eyes fluttering open slowly against the harsh lights of the hospital. He was already sitting up thanks to the bed he was in and came face to face with someone he never thought he would see again.
“Hey,” Rantaro said from his chair.
“Hi,” He said quietly, his voice still hoarse and rough from all the screaming.
“You’ve been out for a while.” Rantaro leaned forward but Kokichi paid no mind. He just felt numb.
“Have I now?” A silence took root and the air grew heavy with the tension.
“...Do you understand what is going on?” He shrugged, honestly he couldn’t care, couldn’t bother with his mask right now. He knew he was going to die and he knew that right now he wasn’t dead. “I know you probably think you are supposed to be dead right now and that is really jarring for a while.” The other teen spoke slowly, as if going any faster would kill one of them. “The killing game isn’t real.” He gave Kokichi a moment to process this before he continued. “It’s a virtual world made to be a reality Tv show. You were never going to die and you are safe now.” He watched with boredom as Rantaro reached out to take his hand, only pulling away moments before he made contact.
“...Why, why did they keep me alive?” He asked, looking into the blinding fluorescent lights, the hand Rantaro tried to grab moving to scratch at the other.
“Because you were never meant to really die, it was just meant to simulate the feeling.”
“...I told them I wanted them to put me back in, finish the job.” He clutched at the pure white sheets he was beneath. They were so dull, boring. He decided at that moment that he hated white.
“I know, I felt like that too. It’s okay.”
. . .
He stared at the Tv intensely, remote held in a white knuckled grip. Shuichi was currently facing off Tsumugi and he was rather entranced. Rantaro sat beside him on the bed with Kaito on the bed beside the two. He didn’t tear his gaze away for a moment. He wanted to see him defeat this whole show. He stared with a blank expression as Kaito cheered the other on loudly, as if the Tv could tell Shuichi his message. He rolled his eyes.
“I told ya my sidekick could do it!” Kaito called. On the screen Shuichi revealed Tsumugi as the true culprit of “Killing” Rantaro.
“Could you be quiet for a minute.” Ranatro asked as he leaned over towards where Kaito sat, returning back to his position with an arm around Kokichi who was still staring unblinking at the Tv, fiddling with the buttons of the remote between his hands. He looked to the smaller in slight concern.
He had nearly been just as asleep now as he was when the killing game was happening. Nearing a full out comatose state, this was the most focused his eyes had been, a glimmer of determination flickering in and out. This was a good step forward. He had barely even sat up fully in bed without some help yet here he was, sitting fully up in bed watching intently.
“Wow Saihara-chan, that’s pretty badass.” He heard the smaller mutter, seeing a small smile gracing his face for the first time in what felt like forever. Rantaro smiled seeing his friend so happy after so many days of nothing and turned back to see Shuichi finally ending the game he and so many more were forced to play.
. . .
When Shuichi finally awoke three other people were there to see him come back. Kaito, Rantaro and Kaede. All of them were either crying or close to this reunion. Happy and tearful hugs were exchanged before Kaito ran off to see Maki wake up, giving her the same treatment from across the room. Three pods over Himiko was waking up to the loving arms of Angie and Tenko, she cried the hardest that day. Many congratulations were exchanged, even many of the workers were happy for him even if he had put them out of a job.
But something was missing. A certain little purple haired leader. When he asked Rantaro about it he had shrugged him off.
“He’s probably in our room. Oh, also me, you, Kaito and him share a room. They believed putting four to a room would help prevent… well, bad things happening while we weren't able to be monitored.” No one needed to specify what the “bad things” meant, it was fairly obvious. Even though he didn’t truly die in the simulation once he woke up he felt the need to plunge a knife into his chest, he can’t imagine how bad it must have been for the actual victims.
After a quick check up on his health he was given a bag of some of his old clothes (the Monokuma t-shirt made him flinch and he promised himself he would burn it the first chance he got) and was sent off to his room where he saw the one person he was looking for.
Kokichi was looking out the window he sat beside. A wheelchair sat next to him. That was no real surprise, all of them had some sort of non permanent effect after their deaths. Kaede had some trouble breathing for the first month after her death, Rantaro said he got migraines easily, Kirumi had sparks of pain at random intervals. The list went on and on, almost all the victims needed some sort of physical therapy and all of them were required to have three months of therapy at least, some needed more.
“Oh, hey Saihara-chan.” The purple haired boy shook his head, his hair flowing around him in a bright halo illuminated by the golden hour light. He gave a solemn smile. “Sleeping beauty finally woke up, huh?”
“It’s nice seeing you again Ouma-kun.” He took the few steps needed to approach the others bed, clothed still clutched in his hands. “I missed you.” Kokichi laughed, his iconic laugh. One, Kokichi himself, had always hated.
“Aw, you don’t have to lie to me Saihara-chan. Geez that was the worst lie you ever told.” He grinned at the other as Shuichi sat down on the bed next to him.
“That wasn’t a lie Ouma-kun, I really did miss you.” Kokichi tensed up for a moment as he was pulled into a hug, head nestled perfectly between where Shuichi’s shoulder and neck met. He froze for a long moment before allowing himself to melt into the touch, reaching up tentatively to grab the back of the other boy’s shirt.
. . .
He often had nightmares, they all had upon waking from the “game”. His were always the worst. Re-living your supposed to be death over, and over, and over again will have that effect. Kaito and Rantaro had already gotten used to being awoken in the middle of the night to him screaming awake but the first night Shuichi was in their room, something changed. He did something neither of them thought of.
It had started as usual, Kokichi beginning to cry and whimper in his sleep and all his fellow roommates stirring awake as a consequence.
“Amami-kun, could you get that.” Kaito barely got up enough to stretch as he shuffled the blankets back up over his shoulder.
“Yeah, on it.” Rantaro barely blinked as he waltzed over to the former supreme leader’s bed. Shuichi sat up with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. He pulled his knees to his chest as he looked to the boy across from his as he cried in his sleep, tossing and turning as he fought against the blankets.
“What’s wrong?” Shuichi asked as Rantaro finally reached the smaller boy's side, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently goading him away from sleep. “Is it a nightmare?”
“Yeah, he’s had them almost every night since… well you know.” Kokichi jolted as he finally woke up, still crying heavily. Rantaro leaned down to let the other boy cling to his shirt, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The three stayed awake with him until he had finally gotten a hold of himself, at that point he allowed Rantaro to go back to his own bed as Kokichi himself laid back down.
Shuichi stayed still for a long time as he looked at the other. He was still in physical therapy, could still barely sit up without the help of someone else.
“What do you dream about?” He finally asked the other, expecting no answer. If he were to be honest he was mostly just asking the air.
“What do you think, Shumai?” He jolted as the harsh voice reached him.
“S-Sorry, I know that was a stupid question.” The boy across from him sat up on shaky arms, smiling slightly.
“No, no it’s okay. I dream about my ‘death.’” That should have been obvious to anyone who had seen what he went through.
“I have nightmares too, sometimes.” He wasn’t sure why he said that, maybe to let the other know it was okay.
“We all do.”
Silence again. Should Shuichi have said that? If the other was just going to shoot down anything he said was there even a point in trying to talk.He was messing up everything. Of course, there was no way they could repair their relationship. He once considered Kokichi a friend, now could they ever get that back? Their friendship had been built on nothing so the fact that they lasted as long as they had alone was remarkable. They both lost so much, too much for sixteen year olds to handle. Hell, one of them had died. This was expected in fact. He was used to people leaving him eventually.
“What do you dream about?” The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. It was quiet, and soft and came from the small boy sitting across from him.
“Huh?” Kokichi let out a small laugh.
“Pfft, idiot. I asked what you dream about. You know mine so tell me yours.” Purple eyes stared him down expectantly. A glimmer of curiosity flashed across the violet.
“Well, I think I dream about a lot.” The other made no noise, allowing Shuichi to continue. “Mostly about the deaths, and the murders. I always hated people looking at me, I think it was something I had even before the game. So having all of them looking at me, eyes unblinking, it hit me more than I thought it would. Kaedes hit me the most. I’m still haunted by seeing her last moments. I can't imagine how hard it must have been on her after all of that. Yours had a similar effect.” He heard the other suck in a harsh breath, he paused, not looking up from his sheets.
“I had to see you die in such a way so many times, no one should have had that happen to them. I hated you because I thought it was Kaito in there. Actually, about half way through the trial I realized that it could have only been you and my heart sank. I wanted to believe it wasn’t, that you would pop up screaming that it was a lie. But you never did. I still have nightmares that you disappeared completely.” He didn’t notice he had started crying, until his hands, still clutching the sheets began to shake beyond control and small blotches appeared on the baby blue, scratchy blanket.
“Wow sidekick, that's harsh.” He thought Kaito had gone back to bed, so seeing a bedhead of purple shoot up from beside him was a shocker. “You didn’t even feel anything for me?” Kaito asked, he was joking but a pinch of guilt planted itself in Shuichi's heart. Kaito shot him a smile. “It’s fine though, I get it.”
“Yeah, I still have nightmares, even though I have been out for so long.” Rantaro also sat up, slower than Kaito, and leaned against his arms. He looked so relaxed.
He wasn’t sure why or how this had turned to them all avoiding sleep by telling stories of the killing game. They shared nightmares but after that they stayed on much happier subjects, like funny or awkward experiences they had. It was nice, sitting up at three in the morning listening to Kokichi doing impressions (He could do a fantastic stereotypical mafia voice) and adding their own. (Shuichi had, embarrassingly, agreed to do his Kermit voice causing all the others to practically die of laughter. Especially when he started saying very not Kermit sentences. “Hand over the money this is a robbery.” made Kokichi laugh hardest among them)
When they finally noticed the sun rising they agreed to go out to breakfast, Shuichi helping Kokichi into his wheelchair. Shuichi found it nice, crying from their laughter with people he considered friends, maybe he could repair relationships he had previously.
. . .
Learning how to walk once again had been the biggest struggle for Kokichi once he left. At least three grueling hours of physical therapy a day and on the days he had more energy that number sometimes bumped up to five. He hated it. The pity in his trainers eyes every time even places his hands on the bar. Once the supportive hand is on his back he wants to go back to his room. Today proved to be especially hard on him. He had already stumbled about five times in the mere five feet he had to walk.
“I just don’t think today is going to work out Akasuki-sama. Maybe tomorrow.” He was fighting back tears of frustration. She looked on at him in pity. He fucking hated pity.
“C’mon Ouma-san, just one more time… please?” She reached out a hand, the same one that had been on his back moments ago. He slapped it away harshly.
“Fuck off.” He muttered. She looked hurt. He felt waves of guilt wash over him. “I’m tired, let's stop for today.”
“Ouma-san, it’s not time-”
“Fuck the time requirement!” Everyone around began to look at him. He didn’t care at this point. “Just…” He tilted his head towards the ground dejectedly, forcing back tears. Above him he heard two people muttering. Both of them he knew well.
“Ouma-kun,” He looked up at Kirumi, he always liked her. When she got executed he felt so lost for so long. “Can you stand up?” No sympathy traced her voice, no pity in her eyes.
“Of course I can’t. Don’t you remember, I’m paralized from the waist down.” He tried to joke but she hardened her gaze.
“Give me your arm.” He hesitated when he reached out one of his arms. Trust issues are a tough thing aren’t they? “Now, place your hands on the bars.” She never broke eye contact. He listened to every word, hanging on to them as if that would save him. He watched as Kirumi took a few steps away, still holding out her arms to him. “Now walk to me.”
He scoffed. “This is stupid you know?” He tentatively took a single, shaky step forward. She shot him a proud smile.
“I know. Just don't look down.”
He took another slow step, then another, then another, then another, then- well you get the point- until finally they became less shaky, more natural. One foot then the other, repeat. Don’t look down.
“You’re doing good Ouma-san, just a few more steps.” Akasuki said as encouragement. Had he really done that much? Had he really walked his quotia by now? Kirumi smiled at him as she still held out her arms, he felt the end of the bars under his hands, she looked to his therapist before nodding to him. “Try a few steps without the bars to help.”
“I can’t.” He could already tell he would barely get a step away, it has happened before and every time nothing was able to stop him from falling onto his knees, nothing to stop the growing pain that would spark there.
“I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.” Kirumi said slowly. It was possible. She was standing there ready and waiting. The main concern now was could Kokichi trust her enough to do this?
He slowly let go of one of his hands, sticking them out begging himself to not fall over. He only made it a few small steps before he felt gravity taking its hold on him and he started to fall forwards. Kirumi stopped him from falling directly on his face. He clutched at her as if without her he would fall (he would). He heaved in as many breaths as he could, closing his eyes as he allowed himself a moment of weakness.
“You did good Ouma-kun.” He could hear her whispering to him.
“I know,” he whispered back as he was lifted into the air, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Thank you, Tojo-chan.” He muttered into her shoulder.
. . .
It was strange, Kokichi never could remember being claustrophobic before. Now as he clawed at the door baring his exit, crying as breath began to leave him in fleeting gasps he was beginning to think otherwise.
It was the hydraulic press all over again. The walls and ceiling pressing down on him. His blood splattering across the floor as he finally closed his eyes, accepting his defeat. He might have been crying, all his senses seemed to leave him in the darkness that surrounded him.
How much blood do you think is in a human body? How much blood do you think leaves the body when they are crushed to death? He knew. It happened to him. He felt as the cold iron pressed against his chest, restricting his breath. He was crying. He could tell.
He started banging his fists on the door. Let me out, please. He was praying someone would find him. I don’t want to die. He felt a hot pain in his fist where he continued his assault on the door, blood likely, he didn’t care. He just needed to get out of this place. The phantom weight of the bandage once on his finger seemed to burn.
When the door finally opened he took no time in rushing out into the bright lights of the hallways, throwing himself into the arms of his saviour. It was a warm embrace, strong arms wrapping around him as he curled into himself in the others embrace. He barely registered as he was placed in another person's lap as they sat the two of them down, the hand running through his hair meant nothing as he cried and tried in vain to steady his breathing. He heard a soft muttering, probably trying to calm him but the voice meant nothing. He gripped at the shirt harder, making his already pale hands impossibly white.
He hated that colour. Everything around him was that dreadful colour, the shirts that they were forced to wear, the floors and the lights even shone a permanent white onto them. He wanted to paint the halls red, or pink or anything but that disgusting cream that the hospital decided was a good idea.
“Hey, look at me.” The voice said to him, dragging him away from his own mind and into the red eyes of Maki. He was still sniffling every so often but his tears had nearly stopped and his breath no longer got caught in his throat. “What happened?” Her eyes seemed to ground him as he stared into the deep crimson.
“I got locked in that room somehow and had a panic attack or something.” He muttered looking to the floor in shame. A hand on his chin brought his gaze back up.
“Should I go get someone? Your therapist?” He shook his head at her suggestion. Red eyes glared at him knowing that was a bold faced lie and both knew it. “You know I can also see through your lies, Ouma-san. Who do you want me to get?”
He took a deep breath and a moment to think before he responded.
“Fine, if you could get Saihara-chan that would be lovely.” He sighed as he rubbed his eyes, now dried of their tears. He watched as Maki stood to leave, until she perhaps thought better than to simply leave him alone and asked a nurse to stay by his side. She turned to him one last time, a small smile on her face. Rare to see in game and even more so now that they were out.
“You’re brave Ouma-san, for trying to deal with all of this alone but everyone needs help. Don’t be afraid to knock on my door next time something like this happens.”
. . .
He stood there alone. The others would be coming soon to join him in their first steps back into their old lives. The sweater he had on was… loud, it was one of the only things he could handle wearing. Bright yellow, little checkers on the sleeves but not much beyond that. He hated the absence of colour now, but he was getting better. He could handle looking at white without wanting to paint it red with his blood. He was now able to walk long distances without the assistance of a cane or wheelchair. He was doing better, not by much, he still had nightmares that would plague him for days after and he could barely look some of his classmates in the face but he was doing better than the boy he was the first day he woke up.
He stood by, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, the news had blown up about Shuichi’s ending of the most famous Tv show. Some people had been activists before and were praising him for doing this and ending this torture, others simply thought it was a nice ending to the show, but everyone seemed happy that it ended in this way. Going out with a bang, he supposed.
“Hey, Kokichi!” Shuichi waved at him, Kaito beside him with Maki on his arm. Kaito was looking good, after the game he got severely ill, side effects of his in-game sickness, but now his cheeks had a healthy shine to them and even looked fuller. Even as he began healing he never stopped smiling for his friends, always trying to keep in high spirits for the others. The purple and blue flannel he was once being swallowed by now fit him nicely.
Maki had a lovely dress on, a flowey skirt and red off-the shoulders top. Her hair was cut shorter, he had to admit she looked nice. She deteriorated a lot after the game, mentally, in the same sort of way he had. They had many nights of bonding off their shared trauma. She looked like she was doing better as well, the scars on her arms may never fade but she seemed okay with that.
Finally, Shuichi. He was correct in thinking it would take a long time for them to get back what they had. Months in fact. But here he was now. Confident in himself, and dating Kokichi. They had both agreed to take things slow, after all neither had been all too good with feelings, and things were going steady since then. He was proud of his boyfriend, and he knew Shuichi felt the same. They survived, nothing else would change that.
“Hey Shumai.” He leaned up as Shuichi kissed his cheek quickly, adjusting his backpack in the process. “Are the others on their way?”
“Yeah, they should be here soon enough.” Right on time, Rantaro answered for Shuichi as he placed himself on a nearby wall. Pulling out his own phone to look at something. “Kaede may be a bit late though, something about Miu needing help picking out an outfit for one such occasion.
“Well, you do only leave a hospital after surviving a killing game you thought was supposed to be real once!” Kokichi teased getting a few pity chuckles.
When they all finally gathered in the lobby and began to walk towards the exit Kokichi gripped his boyfriends hand tighter and tighter with every step they took. When he opened the door and took the first real steps out of this god forsaken hospital he laughed. The sunset was casting a golden glow over everything and his friends were celebrating in their own ways. For Kokichi it was looking directly at Shuichi who was grinning ear to ear and looking at the sinking sun on the horizon.
It’s so bright. He thought to himself as he walked away with his friends, shedding away his old life and walking into the next.