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He doesn't have much time.
He truly doesn't have much time left.
It's quite, the clock reading 9:57 PM. The others would expect him to disappear at 10. What little time left. His stomach felt numb. It wanted to claw at him, wanted to urge him to eat. He'd never let it though. What kind of idiot would he be if he did?
Kirumi would try to convince him to eat. So would lovable Kaede and excitable Kaito. What idiots.
Bakamatsu, Iruma would call, and Bakaito.
God, wasn't she want Kokichi wanted to achieve? That kind of nonchalance fuckery, the kind that no one hates her for. Instead he was sprawled on his bed, waiting for his body to start screaming. He could only ever get away with denying tiny meals. Everyone and their mothers watched who was possibly feeling off.
Kokichi wanted to feel useless.
Kokichi wanted to feel his stomach scream.
He didn't want the food, slimy and dense, full of life, to slide down his throat.
To rot away was Kokichi's dream.
Because he was terrible, wasn't he? He manipulated (precious, innocent) Gokuhara Gonta into murdering (poor, frightened) Iruma Miu. He had claimed to be the mastermind, kidnapped (naive, sick) Momota Kaito then had him murder Kokichi in cold blood! They should hate him too. They should be torturing him. Not even Maki was torturing him, choosing to ignore him.
Oh! Maybe they'd taken his advice? Maybe they were finally psychologically cornering him? What use does it have now? Of course other than psychological warfare. That'd be pretty ballsy.
(Kokichi finds himself ravenous at the thought.
Finally- beating him, breaking him to their pleasure. If that's what it fucking took to have someone then he'd take it.
He doesn't think about nights alone. When he's cold, sobbing, with nothing in his lungs.
Sometimes he wishes Maki would stop his lungs or that Tojo stopped serving him food. It'd make everything easier.)
They all act innocent. As if Kokichi wasn't dying. At times, the purple haired boy wants to scream that he's dying but he stops himself, all too afraid of the truth, swallowing it with grins and lies. When those moments passed, he'd scold himself. Who was more important? Himself or the others? It wasn't a contest- the answer simply was.
The group was far more important than Kokichi.
(They'd mention how being in the facility makes them uneasy.
Kokichi is extra annoying and horrible for a month before the staff gives up and moves them. People say to not separate them because of their 'trauma'. They're forced to pack and move to a different facility. It's closer to the city and has free WiFi. No one notices why. )
With the time at 10, Kokichi shuffles to the bathroom, lungs empty and stomach numb. He brushes his teeth, staring into his empty eyes and leaves. He passes the common room where the murmurs of all are located. The leader passes the people who are healing. They've never invited him.
(He's cold. So horribly cold with chains wrapped around his heart and mouth. There's so much wrong with Kokichi. The chains aren't half of it. His hands are chained behind his back, key in his heart's lock. If only someone took the time to turn it.)
The room is dark. The room is empty. The room is.
It isn't Kokichi's.
The Supreme Leader doesn't both going under the covers. He'd rather freeze. The cold could wrap around his body for all he cared. Then, when he was cold and alone, he'd see the ceiling. It was a tacky gray. It was… rather low.
(The Supreme Leader begs himself to go under the covers. He wants to be warm because everyone has always told him warm equals safety. The cold loosely grips him, freezes his lungs so they never contract. Then, cold and alone, he feels steel beneath him and the press coming down on him. It was shiny for some reason. It was low, coming down to crush him.)
This always happens, Kokichi thinks, but it always stops, just an inch away. So close to death. Kokichi never tells anyone. No one suspects his hallucinations, nightmares or panic attacks. He maintains the lie that he's alright. By some miracle, they never know.
They never know until he loses it, one day when most of the class had moved away, leaving Momota and Shirogane with him. One day, he just slams his arm in a doorway to try and remember the press because that was his only saving grace. He arm hurts but it's not enough. His pale arm gets slammed again and again until someone turns down the hallway and calls for nurses. They pry him away from a bloody door.
Kokichi's arm is broken, skin torn and bruised.
(Not enough)
Kokichi's body should look like his arm, he professes to his therapist.
(Bloody, broken, bruised, torn-)
They say he isn't healthy.
(Aww, when was I ever healthy?)
They ask why the sudden relapse?
(Relapse? Hasn't.. Hasn't he always been like this?)
Momota visits.
Shirogane doesn't.
No one else does.
They leave, like the others did while Kokichi is left with doctors who whisper about suicidal tendencies and sick minds. Like the minds behind Danganronpa weren't sicker.
Still, Kokichi's never had enough time.
Not truly.
It's silent, the clock reading 9:59 PM. Everyone expected him to disappear at 10. Only a minute left. His stomach, for once, felt at home. Clawing, growling, begging for something. Kokichi had finally given into his desire for hunger.
Now, on the roof, his hunger turned to a different subject. What would it be like to fill your lungs with so much air? With so much life? Right before hitting what could only be life's rejection? It was a hunger he experienced before. It was the only hunger he would fulfill.
Kokichi's feet moved to the edge, then over.
His lungs are so full of air that he's choking.
Ouma Kokichi, the Ultimate Supreme Leader, hit the ground at 10 PM. It wasn't the same as being crushed but the split second of broken bones, small space and no breath were all the same.
It was nice to fulfill one hunger.