Archive of Our Own

The press descends slower than Kiibo expects it to. He arches his back and stares up at the approaching metal plate with—metaphorically—baited breath, something light and fluttery and energised kicking off in his chest. His fans whirr, barely audible over the sound of the lowering press, providing a steady, soothing hum, even as Kiibo feels his muscles twitch.

Will it stop? It should—shouldn’t it? Kiibo is, after all, just another one of the students here; he isn’t one of the Kubs or exisals, isn’t the same kind of robot as Monokuma. He is the passion project of Professor Iidabashi, a sentient being who can love, hope, and dream just the same as any human. It has to stop. It’s going to stop. It’s going to st—

Kiibo realises a moment too late that the press isn’t going to stop.

With a strangled sound, Kiibo thrusts himself onto his side and rolls off, throwing himself in the direction of the floor beside the press. The press has lowered so much that there’s only barely room for him to move, and on his second roll, his shoulder catches; there’s the horrid sound of screeching metal, and Kiibo just barely manages to thrust his head and shoulders out from underneath before with a deafening crunch, the rest of him is crushed.

The pain

burns

spreads

overwhelms

It’s indescribable. A scream tears itself from Kiibo’s throat, louder than he even thought himself capable of, more of a wail than a scream—a sob, a cry.

Alarms blare in his ears, ricocheting against the inner walls of his skull. His inner voice is deafening, somehow louder than Kiibo’s screaming, and it’s in utter disarray. He can’t make out more than the occasional word— Kiibo, no, what— can’t think to decipher what he does hear.

His vision is fragmented and warped. The tall machinery, the exisals, they tower over him in splintered red shadows, fading in and out, uncaring, unsympathetic.

Kiibo screams again, tries to clench his fists—but his hands won’t move. He has no hands. What Professor Iidabashi once carefully crafted into a fully functional pair of hands now lies beneath the closed press in a pile of flattened metal. There is nothing there, just useless scrap, and Kiibo throbs for it, what’s left of him shuddering as he struggles to comprehend what has happened.

There are voices around him, above him, right in his ear, echoing in his head—Kiibo can’t make out any of them, can barely see, but the grey spheres that hover overhead are so familiar that for a moment he tries, reigns in the screaming, tries to focus on what they’re saying to him.

“—bo, Kiibo! O-Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m s—” It’s Shuichi. Kiibo blinks several times and manages to make out his face, the way his features have paled with dread, the bead of sweat that drips down from his hairline. For a moment, Kiibo doesn’t remember— can’t, remember, why is he here, why is he apologising, why won’t he make it stop hurting—but then Shuichi says “should’ve stopped it—” and it dawns on him.

“Saihara-kun,” Kiibo rasps. His fans are whirring faster and harder than they have in his life, everything feels so dreadfully hot, Kiibo only barely catches the way Shuichi cringes and then leans forward, eyes wide and rapt with attention. “Why didn’t you—Why didn’t you stop it?”

“I-I—” Shuichi stammers. “I didn’t—I thought it would stop.”

I thought it would stop. Kiibo had thought it would stop, too, but it didn’t—it kept coming down and down and down and now—his eyes drift to his lower body, to what used to be his lower body— no— how could Shuichi have let this happen—why did Kiibo think any goddamn thing in this school would think of him as human—

“I’m so—I’m so sorry—” Shuichi’s face is closer. Kiibo strains, looks just behind him, sees that Shuichi’s dropped to his knees. “Kiibo-kun, I’m so—”

“You better be sorry!” cries a second voice. Shuichi cringes heavily, and Kiibo blinks. The high pitched sound is overwhelming. His inner voice continues to panic, sounding more like multiple voices than the single, coherent guiding voice that he’s always relied on; it makes it difficult to focus, to discern who is speaking, familiar as it is. “You know how hard it is to repair a bot like this?! Couldn’t you have played dangerous games before Iruma-san and my last Cubs bit it? What the hell am I supposed to do about this mess?”

“I—” Shuichi’s eyes dart between Kiibo and whoever stands behind him, expression contorting. “I don’t—”

“Useless!” the voice snaps. Suddenly, his voice echoes through the room, much louder than before, so much so that Kiibo only processes the words after they’ve been said and the room has fallen quiet again.

“All students report to the exisal hangar! A body has been discovered—or it’s about to be! Make it snappy, brats, because your headmaster is pissed!”

Despite how much he’s overheating, cold spreads through what’s left of Kiibo’s body; even phantoms of his arms and legs tingle with a chill. His inner voices fall silent, leaning a deafening quiet to echo in his skull. It doesn’t matter. Kiibo isn’t paying attention to them anymore, to anything.

Or it’s about to be. Kiibo is going to die. Professor Iidabashi’s greatest creation is going to die here, in this school, crushed and cold and basically alone, and…

Kiibo is never going to see him again.

Kaito scrambles to his feet at the sound of the announcement, the blood draining from his face. At his side, Maki jolts, looking up from her examination of the control panel in Kaito’s new lab.

“About to be?” Maki repeats, brow knitting. Kaito finds that he can’t make his voice work to respond, but he shoots Maki a distressed look of his own so that she knows he’s thinking the same thing. What the hell even happened? They just had a trial yesterday, how can it be possible that someone else is already dying?

Maki, always efficient, doesn’t waste another moment on small talk. She seizes Kaito’s wrist and starts down the winding staircase with determination. Kaito stumbles after her, gripping onto the hand rail and struggling to keep pace, treading just a bit more carefully down the steps in the interest of not falling and taking them both down. After all, if someone else is dying and it’s not some kind of freak accident—there will be another to follow. That means just five of them left. Kaito can’t afford to be careless right now.

They make their way out into the courtyard. Kaito realises as he reaches the ground that he doesn’t actually know where the “exisal hangar” even is, but Maki doesn’t waste any time in pulling him in the direction of a large new building just across the way. They’re joined by Himiko, whose face is flushed with exertion as she jogs towards the new area, and then Tsumugi, who is unnaturally pale, wringing her hands in front of her chest.

Kaito reaches out to rest a hand on Tsumugi’s shoulder. The moment he touches her, she jumps, eyes flashing, but then quickly relaxes.

“Hey, my bad,” Kaito says. He pulls his hand away. “Just… you look pretty freaked, Shirogane. Not that I can blame you, I just…”

“No, no, I understand.” Tsumugi clears her throat, and offers a shaky smile, hitching her skirt and quickening her pace slightly to match Maki (and subsequently Kaito) a bit better. “Thank you. I’m just… ahaha, I’m a bit tired of all of this. I can’t fathom losing anybody else.”

Yeah. Neither can Kaito. He does a quick sweep of the four of them. The dying person can’t be any of the four of them—obviously—and considering the direction they’re coming from, it’s likely none of them are responsible for it, either. That leaves Kiibo, Kokichi, and… Shuichi.

A panic unlike anything Kaito has felt since getting here lands hard in his stomach and he pulls his wrist from Maki’s hand to break into a sprint. She calls after him, but he ignores her, taking off as quickly as he can into the building. Shuichi. Shuichi. Shuichi. Complicated emotions still battle in the back of his mind, even now, when he thinks of his sidekick—but none of that matters. It can’t be him, he can’t be dead, no matter how horrible it makes Kaito feel to wish for Shuichi’s life over anyone else’s—everyone here needs him, has relied on him since the beginning— Kaito needs him, Kaito can’t bear the idea of him being dead, not before they’ve made up, not before Kaito’s said he’s sorry—

The way into the hangar is more like a maze than a proper route, but Kaito doesn’t let that stop him. He tears down the winding path until he passes a window and comes up to a large entrance with a control panel and keypad in front. Metal shutters are pulled down, preventing Kaito from entering, but before he can fret about it, they start to raise, winding up and up and up until they’re staring into a wide garage with exisals scattered throughout. Kaito runs inside and scans the room until he spots Monokuma, standing with his paws on his hips by what appears to be a massive hydraulic press, and—

“Shuichi!” Kaito doesn’t hesitate. He tears across the room until he’s at Shuichi’s side, dragging the boy to his feet, checking him over for injuries, but—no, no, he’s alive, there are tears in his eyes and his face is pale but his skin is the temperature it always is, he’s… fine. He’s not dying.

Relief crashes into Kaito like a tidal wave, so overwhelming that he barely registers the confusion that flickers in its wake. He squeezes Shuichi’s shoulders and pulls back, brow knitting, and opens his mouth to ask Shuichi what’s going on.

A groan at his feet stops him short. Kaito looks down, alarmed, and sees that buried between the two plates of the press, inarguably crushed flat, is…

“Oh my god, Kiibo, what—”

Kaito looks between Kiibo (or what remains of him, anyway; everything but his head and shoulders is still clamped inside the machine) and Shuichi, face contorting. Several sets of footsteps approach behind him, stuttering to a stop just feet away from the group. Kaito hears a gasp and a cry, the quiet thud of someone collapsing to the floor, and then Maki pushes her way in front of him, scowling.

“Saihara, what the hell happened?” She sounds intent, accusatory, and Kaito is overwhelmed with the desire to defend him for a moment, but… Shuichi’s face only pales, his eyes darting between Kiibo, prone, and a control panel at the top of a nearby staircase. He moves away, hand reaching up to grab something in front of his face. His fingers close over air. He curls in on himself.

Dread squirms in Kaito’s stomach. “Shuichi… what did you do?”

“I-I—” Shuichi swallows audibly. “It was—It was an accident, he wasn’t supposed to—”

“Wooooah, Saihara-chan!” Kokichi seems to appear out of nowhere, twisting deftly past Maki and leaning up into Shuichi’s face. Shuichi stumbles backwards, trembling like a leaf. “That’s like, soooo totally not an answer! So why did you do it? Didn’t think the rest of us wanted a claim on who got to turn Kiiboy into bits? Except,” and Kokichi’s face blanks, now, eyes darkening into something terrifying, “that’s not even a good lie, is it? Because we just finished a trial. So why the hell would you crush Kiibo?”

Maki scowls and grabs Kokichi by the back of his scarf, pulling him back with a sharp yank. “You killed Gokuhara,” she says plainly, “on purpose. If anyone can give Saihara shit for what happened, it’s not you.”

It seems Kokichi wants to retort, but after a moment, he shrugs, pulling himself out of Maki’s grip and stepping up to where Kiibo is on the floor, gently cradling the robot’s head in his lap and leaning down to talk to him.

Kaito’s attention is pulled from Kokichi’s uncharacteristic tenderness by Maki continuing: “Just tell us what happened, Saihara. Nobody is going to jump on you.” Though she doesn’t outright say I won’t let them, through her tone, it’s fairly clear.

After a couple deep breaths, Shuichi manages to speak, voice choked and teary. “I-I—We—Kiibo-kun asked me to—the press has, um, sensors on it—it’s supposed to stop if it detects a living being underneath. But. Kiibo-kun wanted to know if he was counted in that, a-and he asked me to—lower it down on him, and stand by and stop it in case it didn’t stop.”

“So you…” Kaito’s eyes flit between Shuichi and the control panel. “You… didn’t stop it.”

“I thought it would stop!” Shuichi cries. “And Kiibo-kun said he would move if it—oh my god, Kiibo, I’m so sorry, I’m so—”

“You have to fix him, Monokuma!” Tsumugi’s voice bursts in. She pushes in front of the bear, body shaking, tears streaking down her cheeks. “This was plainly an accident—and he isn’t dead yet! You’ve got to fix him!”

Kokichi’s head lifts, a strange edge in his eye. “Whatever you do, you’d better do it fast! Kiiboy’s in a lot of pain, you know? It’s not really fair to drag this out with your stupid back and forth.”

A sob escapes Shuichi. His body sways and starts to collapse, but Maki moves forward to catch him, arms around him strong. Kaito finds he can’t quite look at them, something sticky and cold forming in his chest, a kind of black sludge. He turns his attention onto Monokuma.

“Do I look like a miracle maker, Shirogane-san?” Monokuma asks, frowning. “Check out the damage if you want! Kiibo-kun is toast! Saihara-kun really did a number on him!”

“I don’t care!” Tsumugi snaps, voice downright shrill. “He can’t die, and Saihara-kun can’t be executed! You know—” She breaks off suddenly and shudders, face splotchy and wet. “We’ve—We’ve lost too many already.”

Executed. Kaito finds his voice again, taking a bracing step backwards, scowling. “Hey, you don’t mean—”

“It was an accident,” Himiko interjects. She must have been the one who fell before, but she’s back on her feet now, stumbling closer. Kaito rests a hand on her shoulder briefly so she can regain her balance. “It was an accident, Saihara didn’t mean to—you can’t kill him!”

Monokuma tilts his head to the side. “Was it? Saihara-kun pressed the button himself, he didn’t trip… nobody pushed him away from the button to keep him from pressing it again… when Kiibo-kun dies, it’s going to be on the head of the blackened, and I think we all know who the blackened of this case is… don’t we?”

“Like hell,” Maki growls. She brings Shuichi in closer, eyes blazing. “Like hell I would let you. This isn’t like the rest of the cases. Kiibo is still alive. You don’t have shit.”

And it’s true, Kiibo is still alive. Kaito makes sure Himiko is standing properly before he moves past the five who are still standing, padding carefully over to where Kokichi still sits with the robot’s head in his lap. He lowers himself down to sit on his ankles. Kiibo’s face is hazy, contorted with pain, shoulders trembling minutely. Kokichi’s eyes dart upwards, but his neutral expression doesn’t change. He shifts just the slightest bit to let Kaito face Kiibo, hands bracing Kiibo’s upper body (or what’s left of it) so as not to jostle him.

Still, Kiibo’s eyes screw shut, and Kaito bites his lip.

“Kiibo, I’m…” Kaito’s voice catches. His throat feels dry. “Christ, man. This isn’t fair.”

Kiibo opens one eye, a very slight wry smile touching his face. “Not especially,” he croaks. “I… I should apologise, I haven’t really been—paying attention to most of what’s been said. It is—difficult to focus, right now.”

“Don’t sweat it, dude, seriously,” Kaito dismisses. He glances over his shoulder to where Tsumugi, Maki, and Himiko are still yelling at Monokuma, then looks back to Kiibo. “It’s… nothing you wouldn’t expect. We’re kinda sick of losing people.”

“Of losing the wrong people, anyways,” Kokichi adds in a mumble. Kaito recalls how he’d been begging for it not to be Shuichi as he ran here, recalls the relief that hit him all at once when he saw his sidekick in one piece, and cringes. In the end, it’s not going to matter—Shuichi did this to Kiibo, destroyed him irreparably, and he’s probably going to be executed for it—but that Kaito had even thought it, valued one life over another when none of them should be dying… how can he sit here and try to comfort Kiibo knowing that?

Still, he can’t just say nothing. “Look, man, if we can—I know Iruma ain’t here anymore, but I know a thing or to about machines too from astronaut training, I could try to—”

Kiibo is already shaking his head, a slight, weak motion. If Kaito weren’t so close already, he wouldn’t even have noticed it. “No, Momota-kun, I—” He winces, eyes screwing shut again. “I… I appreciate your kindness. You have always been… quite kind, to me, and to everybody. I hope you understand that—especially when Ouma-kun and the rest are tearing into you.”

“What the heck,” Kokichi mutters, ruffling Kiibo’s hair. “I’m like, right here, you know.”

“I know.” Kiibo smiles. He pauses for a moment, as though collecting himself. When he opens his eyes, pain shines in them, and in every corner of his face. Beyond the pain, though, Kaito can see—fear, anguish. He can’t want to die any more than the rest of them want him to. On impulse, Kaito reaches out and grasps his shoulder, holding tight to him. Kiibo’s gaze settles in on Kaito’s face, then, softening. “There is no… fixing what has been done. Even the professor likely couldn’t salvage my parts by now… that I am even still conscious is remarkable in itself, but I…” Kiibo shudders. “I am in… so much pain, I can barely think—my inner voice has gone silent—this is… it. There is no helping me from here. All that I can ask is that—that you make it quick.”

Make it quick. That means… Kaito feels himself paling, feels his stomach lurch once again, but… an odd sort of calm settles over him now, one that hasn’t since he heard the announcement play. Kiibo is in pain. It can’t be fixed. He knows that it’s over for him, knows there’s no point in trying to put it off. All he can ask for now… is that it not be dragged out, that he be allowed to pass with dignity.

When Kaito dies… and from the ache in his chest that’s persisted since Toujou’s trial, he knows that’ll be sooner than later… what can he ask for but the same thing?

“We will, Kiibo,” Kaito says. His voice comes out remarkably steely, determination replacing the dull horror that was clogging his throat. “We won’t let you suffer anymore.”

And now, Kiibo smiles again, eyes still locked on Kaito’s face, a strange understanding between them. Kaito squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Kiibo whispers. “I am sorry… that I could not escape with you, my friends.”

“Yeah, well.” Kokichi’s fingers creep around to the back of Kiibo’s neck, lingering there for a moment. “I’m sorry too, you know? For a lot of stuff. And still probably not as much as I should be.” His lips poke up at the edges, and his voice lowers, so quiet that Kaito barely hears it. “Night night, Kiibo-chan. If robots go to the afterlife, maybe I’ll see you there soon.”

Kokichi finds the power switch on Kiibo’s neck and switches him off with a finality. He watches for the exact moment that Kiibo slumps, eyes closing, and only really realises what this might look like when Kaito speaks again.

“Wh—What did you—Did you kill—?”

“Relax, space boy, relax!” Kokichi grins, tucking his arms behind his neck, ignoring the cold feeling that spreads from his chest to his throat when Kiibo’s head lolls to the side. “He’s not dead. Yet.” He gently moves Kiibo’s head from his lap and stands, stretching out. “I just shut him off. You see, Kiibo-chan and I were actually forbidden lovers! And he told me aaaaall about his power switch.”

A lie, of course; Kokichi found it snooping. From the way Kaito’s eyes narrow, though, it’s pretty obvious he can probably grasp that without having to be told. Kokichi smirks at him, watches the way he wobbles as he scrambles to his feet. For a man dying of some illness, Kaito got here pretty fast, all considered. He must have been worried about his sidekick—which is ironic, considering what happened, and considering that since the revelation, Kaito’s been looking at Shuichi like the sight of him makes him feel nauseous.

Not that Kokichi can especially blame him for that. Softly, Kokichi clicks his tongue, turning back to face the group of bozos who have been going off since he tuned out. He’d thought Shuichi smarter than that, more capable. Sure, a bit of a sad, pathetic lump, but with the right urging—Kaito’s—he seemed to be capable of plenty. Apparently not, given. You’d think that seeing Shuichi snivel and cry in Maki’s arms would make Kokichi a little more sympathetic towards him, but having heard Kiibo sob, tearless, about how much he didn’t want to die without seeing his father again—yeah, no. Sympathy bank’s fresh out. Catch Kokichi after the execution.

“Excuuuuuse me, everyone!” Kokichi chirps, barging between Himiko and Maki. He places himself in the very center of the group, right where he’s been situating himself since he made his plan. (Not that that matters, now—he wasn’t expecting this of all things to happen, especially not between Kiibo and Shuichi… but with the way things have unfolded, maybe he can…) “I have a little announcement! Kiiboy has passed on to a better world!”

Himiko gasps, hands flying to her mouth. Shuichi makes a strangled noise into Maki’s scruff. Tsumugi’s eyes flash with something super suspicious, darting between Kiibo’s unconscious body and Kokichi’s face again. Tears pool in her eyes a second too late to be genuine. Kokichi looks away from her.

Behind him, Kaito bursts out, “Oi! You literally just said—”

“Nishishi, just kidding! Just a little lie. He’s unconscious.” Kokichi turns back to wink at Kaito. The indignation in Kaito’s expression doesn’t even falter, though there is something weird underneath it, a curiosity, almost, that Kokichi absolutely totally definitely does not have any time to entertain. He turns back around. “I hit his off switch so he doesn’t have to be in pain anymore, see. But he’s going to die. And he wants to.”

“That’s a lie,” Maki snaps. “There’s no way Kiibo would ask to be killed—no way he would tell that to you of all people.”

“Y-Yeah!” Tsumugi nods fervently. “Kiibo-kun would never give up on life, he’s—”

“No, it’s true.” Kaito’s presence at Kokichi’s shoulder is announced by a swish of fabric, a slight warmth hovering behind him. Kokichi doesn’t turn around. “I heard him myself. He asked us to make it quick.”

“To—” Himiko’s face looks a bit green. “You mean… to put him out of his misery? Like an old dog you love but don’t want to suffer anymore?” She quivers, tears leaking from her eyes. Kokichi notes, somewhat detached, that she’s come a long way. “Kiibo…”

Kaito sounds a bit exasperated. “Well, I wouldn’t really put it like that, but… uh, yeah. Basically.”

“Still, it brings up an interesting question, doesn’t it?” Kokichi smiles. “Sure, Saihara-chan did the deed… but Kiiboy is still alive! All that remains is to finish him off… but whoever carries out his last wish will be the blackened. Isn’t that so, Monokuma?”

“I—” Monokuma blinks, then his face spreads into a broad grin. “That’s correct, Ouma-kun! What a fascinating turn of events! Poor Kiibo-kun is in so much pain… isn’t it only right that one of you finish it for good?”

“But that’s—” Maki breaks off with a scowl. “That’s basically assisted suicide. We don’t need to kill him. We just need to fix him.”

“Nah, Harumaki.” Kaito sounds a bit pained, but more than anything else, he sounds tired. “He said himself that even his professor couldn’t fix him. How could one of us do that?” Kokichi turns to look at him just in time to watch Kaito duck his head with a sigh, scratching the back of his neck. “I know it’s shitty, but… one of us’s gotta finish the job.”

That quiets Maki. Kokichi watches her chew her thumbnail, her other arm still wrapped around Shuichi. The concept of having to put someone out of their misery for their own sake probably isn’t an unfamiliar one to her, and to hear it from Kaito… yeah. She’s out of the game. Weird how easy it is to remove her as opposition with Kaito in his corner.

Kokichi shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “If everyone’s done fighting over whether or not we need to do it… any volunteers? Does anyone here wanna kill Kiiboy?” He tucks his arms behind his neck. “We’ll make a plaque to honour your sacrifice when we get out of here, you know? Well, unless you’re Saihara-chan.” He glances at Shuichi with a bit of genuine scorn, unable to help himself. “I don’t think people should be rewarded for cleaning up their own messes.”

Shuichi swallows audibly and looks away, chewing his lower lip. Go figure.

“What, nobody?” Kokichi raises his eyebrows. “Seeeriously? How bo—”

“Why don’t you do it, Ouma-kun?” Tsumugi interrupts. Kokichi blinks.

“Hmmm?” What are you playing at?

“You—You killed Iruma-san and Gonta-kun!” Tsumugi accuses, pointing at him. “If anyone needs to make up for what they’ve done—it’s you, not Saihara-kun! What Saihara-kun did was an accident! But Harukawa-san was right… you killed two people on purpose!”

“I didn’t kill anybody,” Kokichi points out, ignoring the pang that hits him at the reminder that he killed Miu and Gonta—his only friends, other than Kiibo, who now lies unconscious on the ground—for nothing. “Gonta killed Iruma-chan by choice. And it was Monokuma who killed Gonta.”

“N-No, Shirogane is right,” Himiko cuts in, face pulled into a grimace. “Gonta wouldn’t have killed Iruma if not for you! It was your fault what happened, and you said yourself that you did it for fun! Now you’re just… pretending to care…” She pulls down on her hat. “You’re probably just trying to mess with all of us again… force one of us to sacrifice ourselves for your own enjoyment… do it yourself, if it means that much to you.”

Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of Kokichi’s own actions. From Himiko, who is innocent, whose only crime has been an inability to express her feelings properly—it stings a lot more than it does from Tsumugi. Still, Kokichi’s mask doesn’t waver.

“Geez! Can’t do one thing around here!” Kokichi huffs. “Tell me, Yumeno-chan—a guy who killed two people for fun, now why would I be willing to lower myself down to mercy kill a tin can?” Kokichi raises his eyebrows and forces out the next words, even as guilt eats at him for even daring to consider saying them. “He just isn’t worth my time, you know? He isn’t even human!”

“How can you say that?!” Tsumugi cries, with far too much indignation for Kokichi to believe she’s being genuine. (God, how long has she been flying under the radar like this? She’s so plain, half the time Kokichi has forgotten she’s even there… but no longer.) “Kiibo-kun is our friend! And you’re the one who’s talking about putting him down—didn’t you say that it’s what he wants?”

It is inarguably what Kiibo wants. Kokichi grimaces subtly, recalling the way Kiibo had trembled against him, eyes full of fear at the inevitability of his own fate. Sure, he’d been afraid, but right there before Kokichi shut him off… there’d been resolve in his eyes. He was sure about what he wanted. Kokichi’s going to honour that, no matter what, not least of all because it seems like Tsumugi and Monokuma really don’t want him to.

Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Kokichi can’t be the one to do it. If his only objective was to honour Kiibo’s last wishes—hell, then maybe. It’s the least he owes that stupid bot after everything he said, and the thought of continuing to live on with the guilt of Miu and Gonta’s deaths on his shoulders, knowing that in the end they amounted to nothing… were Kokichi just a bit weaker, he probably wouldn’t mind throwing the towel in here. But he can’t. If Kokichi dies, he won’t be able to see this through. He needs to end the killing game, stop it in its tracks before any more children can be dragged onto this stupid TV show, and that means he has to stay on his feet, has to… has to sacrifice one more person.

And that sacrifice, it can’t be Kokichi. It has to be the one who Tsumugi has been trying to protect all this time.

“You believe Momota-chan, don’t you?” Kokichi asks, smiling again. “Kiibo wants to die painlessly—and that’s no lie! It’s the least we can do for him. But—”

“But what?” Maki interjects, eyes flashing. Were it not for the fact that she’s still supporting Shuichi, she might move closer, might attack Kokichi. He takes an instinctive step backwards and then hates himself for doing it. “What else needs to be said, Ouma? You’re the only person here who should die.” Her eyes narrow, swimming with malice, and Kokichi has to fight to keep staring into them, fight the way his heart hammers against his ribs, urging him to turn tail and make a break for it like a terrified prey animal. He hates that Maki always makes him feel this way—hates how powerless he is, hates that nobody here gives a damn enough about him for him to feel even slightly safe, even if he deserves it—and it’s all he can do not to let it show on his face, tilting his head slowly to the side.

“Awwww, Harukawa-chan! I never knew you felt that way for me! Once Saihara-chan finishes the job, we should kiss!”

Maki snarls, gripping onto Shuichi’s shoulder so tightly it must be painful. “He’s not going to finish the job, and there won’t be an after for you, because—”

“Harumaki, quit,” Kaito speaks up, again. Kokichi can’t help a sharp inhalation at the sound of his voice. It’s been so long since he’s last spoke that Kokichi forgot he was there. “It’s fine. Ouma doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. Nobody here has to do anything they don’t want to.”

“Momota-kun…?” Tsumugi’s brows knit with what Kokichi thinks is genuine concern. She pulls her sleeve over her hand and wipes away some of her tears. “But… you said yourself that—”

“I know what I said,” Kaito says. Kokichi looks back at him, watches him lower his hands from a placating position. “I stand by it still. What kinda man goes back on his word? But I’m tellin’ you, there’s no need to pressure anybody into killing Kiibo. I’ll do it.”

The response is instantaneous. Himiko, Maki, and Tsumugi all burst into objections, all their voices raised and desperate, loud enough to echo through the exisal hangar. Monokuma bursts into laughter and says something derisive, probably about heroes—but Kokichi doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t really hear any of them, frankly, beyond processing that they’re there. He’s too busy studying Kaito’s face, the odd mixture of what he thinks is sincerity and determination in it.

It… makes sense, though. Kaito is dying. Kokichi’s known that for over a week, and Kaito knows it too—he must, anyway, to be carrying that sickness around all the damn time. Kokichi still remembers how he’d doubled over after Gonta’s execution, dropping to his knees with a bloody cough. He’d been affected a lot worse by that punch than Kokichi was expecting him to, which means he’s probably worse than Kokichi thought he was, even knowing already that the illness he’s been hiding is likely deadly.

From a purely utilitarian standpoint, this is the option that makes the most sense. Kaito, the one who is already dying, volunteering himself to die. That way, nobody goes before their time, and they don’t have to lose someone else later on, either. That way, Kaito is putting two people out of their misery at once. That way, Kaito is sparing them all the horrifying prospect of deciding who to sacrifice when their scapegoat isn’t willing to step up to bat.

And Kokichi knows, somewhere he knows, that it can’t be Kaito. It can’t be Kaito, because Kaito was probably meant to die from the start, so if it’s him who kills Kiibo and gets the ax, the mastermind will likely be shaken from the loss of Kiibo, but not incapacitated. Fine, really. They can recover. So it can’t be Kaito, even if he’s doomed already, even if this is the kindest possible option.

…Still, as much as Kokichi is a rational person above all else, as much as Kaito is an idiot and an asshole and someone who has been putting a wrench in Kokichi’s plan to isolate himself from the very beginning… he can’t help the respect that fills him as he stares up at Kaito’s determined face.

“Not bad, Momota-chan,” Kokichi says quietly. Perhaps too quietly to be heard, but Kaito must hear it, because he smiles before he looks up, expression steeling again. Kokichi takes this as his cue to turn back to face everyone else, blanking his own features, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“—please, Momota-kun!” Tsumugi is sobbing, always so dramatic, “we’re already going to lose Kiibo-kun, we can’t lose you too!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Maki adds, face scrunched up with what Kokichi thinks is a combination of anger and pure, unbridled pain. “If it means that much to you, I’ll kill him—I’m a murderer already, anyway—but if you think for a second I’m going to let you—”

“Hey, Maki, no.” Kaito cuts her off again, sounding like he’s frowning. “Like hell am I just gonna sit here and listen to you spout that bullshit. You’re done killing, alright? That’s in the past. When you get outta here, you keep your chin up and you think about nothing but the future. I wanna do this, it’s the only way that makes sense, so you should just—”

“What future?” Maki interrupts, scoffing. Shuichi, who she still supports with an arm around his middle, has lifted his head. Perhaps he did so when Kaito volunteered to sacrifice himself. His expression is dazed, conflicted, tears dried and salty on his cheeks, but he looks at Maki now, pain in his eyes. “You don’t get it, Momota. I was made for this. I was made to kill. When I get out of here, the cult is going to find me, and I’ll go back to it. I’ll have to go back to it. If I kill Kiibo, I’ll finally be doing something good with it, instead of—”

Himiko slams her hands over her ears and shakes her head with a wail. “No, no, no! I can’t—I can’t do this! I-I can’t listen to everyone fight to sacrifice themselves! I don’t want anyone else to die!” Her chest hitches and shudders as she chokes out her next words. “I don’t, I don’t even want Ouma to do it and I hate him after Gonta—” Something in Kokichi wilts at that, leaves an odd sting at his eyes that he resolutely keeps at bay. “—why can’t we just all ignore it and leave him off? That way nobody else has to—”

“Yumeno-san.”

Himiko falls silent immediately at the sound of her name, hands lowering from her ears. Perhaps she wouldn’t, were it anyone else, but because it’s Shuichi, she listens, eyes red rimmed and teary.

Some of the life has returned to Shuichi’s face. His expression is still grim, but his eyes are less glossy, jaw set. He looks somewhat akin to how he did during Kaede’s trial, all the way back when he finally decided to reveal the truth of how she bashed Rantaro’s skull in. Furthermore, he pushes himself up onto his own feet and finally leaves Maki’s embrace, gripping one of her hands and squeezing it tight, and then letting go.

Maki must realise what he’s about to say the moment before he says it, because her eyes widen. “Saihara, don’t—”

“I’ll do it,” Shuichi says. His voice is clearer and firmer than it’s been since Kokichi arrived, not even a bit of a tremble to it. “I’ll… put an end to Kiibo-kun’s pain. It’s…” He looks down at Kiibo again, and his lower lip wobbles slightly before he looks up again. “It’s the least I can do, after what I did to him.”

“You—” Kaito breaks off again. Kokichi can’t see his face, too busy studying Shuichi’s to turn around, but Kaito sounds devastated. He has to be, must have been since the moment he came here and saw what happened and who’s responsible for it. On blind, reckless impulse, Kokichi reaches back, feeling around until he manages to locate one of Kaito’s hands and squeezing it hard behind his back. Kaito holds onto him with the same amount of strength. “I can’t just…”

Shuichi shakes his head. “No, Momota-kun. You told me I have to own up to my mistakes, and this is a part of that. I can’t let you hold me up forever, you know?” He smiles, now, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry for the way everything has turned out, I—I never wanted Gonta-kun to be the culprit, or to have to argue against you during the trial—I hope you can forgive me for that, somehow, someday, because you’re—” He shudders, the mask of cool resolve crumbling. “Y-You’re the only reason I was ever able to—to do anything good in this place, even if I just messed it all up—”

“Shit, Shuichi, no,” Kaito breathes, and he releases Kokichi’s hand now, pushing past him and taking two large strides over to the detective, gathering him into a tight hug. It must be overwhelming. From what little Kokichi can see of both of their faces, he can tell they certainly feel that way. Kaito hooks an arm around Maki’s shoulders and drags her in, and she doesn’t fight it. Kokichi thinks he can hear her calling Shuichi an idiot, muffled though it is, but noticeably, she doesn’t try to argue against what he plans to do.

Himiko joins them, after a moment, having burst into another round of tears at the revelation that Shuichi means what he’s saying, but Kokichi stays where he is, a few feet away, and similarly, Tsumugi doesn’t move. She regards them almost cooly, her head tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded.

Her expression immediately twists with anguish when she notices Kokichi looking. Moisture pools in her eyes once more. Kokichi merely raises an eyebrow.

Maki holds tight to Kaito and Shuichi like she’s never held anyone before in her life. They’re all crying, the whole lot of them; even Kaito has tears soaking into his goatee as he mutters into Shuichi’s ear, but Maki struggles to keep things together. If someone here is going to be the backbone, it’ll have to be her. It’s all she knows how to do, after all, keep a straight face when the going gets tough.

Still, eventually Shuichi straightens, and Maki lets him go. Even if she wanted to keep him close, protect him, follow Himiko’s suggestion and leave Kiibo powered off forever, she understands that this is something that Shuichi wants to do. Maybe even something that he has to do, to feel even slightly okay about what happened. Throwing your own life away in the face of turmoil has never been something Maki has found acceptable. Your life is valuable, after all, even if it could be over in an instant. Why give it up for something that doesn’t matter?

But… Shuichi isn’t just doing this for himself. There’s something much more important at stake here.

Maki looks up at Kaito, whose shoulders still shake with suppressed sobs, and hesitantly she moves to his side, slotting her hand against his. He holds tight to her, mumbling her name so hoarsely and thickly she barely understands it, and for the second time today, Maki tucks herself under the arm of a friend and acts as an anchor, the only thing holding him off the ground. It’s the least she can do, after everything Kaito has done for her.

Then, she looks to Shuichi, who is studying the hydraulic press as though pondering his next move. When he notices her looking, he smiles, a pathetic little thing.

“If you’re trying to make me feel better about this, it isn’t going to work,” Maki says flatly.

“Ah… sorry.” Shuichi clears his throat. “I’ll, um, make it quick, then. Before I kill Kiibo-kun, I just…” He trails off, looking a bit lost. “I wanted to thank you, Harukawa-san, for… supporting me today. And before today. You’re a good friend.” His smile widens, turns more genuine, so much so that Maki can barely look right at it. “Take care of Momota-kun, alright?”

Tears burn at Maki’s eyes. She blinks furiously, unwilling to let herself break, and opens her mouth to call Shuichi an idiot.

…

“I will,” Maki says instead. “I’ll take care of everything, Saihara. Just… do what you have to do.”

Shuichi nods. He takes a deep breath, then carefully makes his way up the steps, gripping onto the hand railing for support. He lifts the press off of Kiibo, then descends the stairs to carefully move what remains of their friend onto the press. Maki watches, wishing she could help, wishing that there was anything she could do to make this easier. But she knows, too, that there are some roads you just have to walk on your own.

When Kiibo is situated, Shuichi brushes some white hair out of the robot’s face and then returns to the control panel, taking a deep breath. He presses the button, and at first he watches as the press lowers, but in the end, he has to cover his eyes, turning his head away.

Maki, though, keeps her eyes peeled. She watches for the exact moment that the press lowers down onto Kiibo with a deafening, horrid crunch of metal, and then looks away, struggling to regulate her breathing.

For a moment afterwards, the exisal hangar is silent but for the sound of crying, Himiko and Tsumugi’s sniffles bouncing off the walls. Maki studies the floor, determined not to lose her composure, rubbing her thumb against Kaito’s knuckles in the hopes of comforting him.

Then, Monokuma chimes in.

“How generous of Saihara-kun to give us a live performance, upupu!” Monokuma throws his hands in the air. “Still, there can’t be a case without a class trial! All students please report to the Shrine of Judgment! As always, the elevator will take you down to the trial room, where we will determine the culprit of this grisly case, once and for all! Until then, toodles!”

With that, Monokuma spins and disappears, leaving them all once again to cry in quiet. Shuichi is the one who moves first, walking carefully down the steps and leaving the exisal hangar without another word. There’s an odd dignity to him, a grace, that Maki has to admire. She doesn’t think she’s ever walked in such a way after an assassination.

Tsumugi and Himiko leave next, clinging to each other for support. Maki notices Kokichi watching them with narrowed eyes, the slightest of frowns on his face, but decides she doesn’t have energy to waste deciphering his motivations. After all, when have they ever actually been good? She turns to Kaito instead, gently nudging his arm to let him know it’s time to go, but—

“You ready, Momota-chan?” Kokichi pops up on Kaito’s other side, looking into his face. If Kaito is at all surprised by this, he doesn’t say anything. He nods instead, wordlessly, and Maki watches him squeeze Kokichi’s shoulder before he starts to turn around.

…Weird. But today’s already been exhausting as is. Trying to figure out what the hell that all was about is going to rob Maki of her last remaining brain cells. She resolves instead to ignore it, following Kaito and Kokichi out into the courtyard.

The walk to the Shrine of Judgment and the trial that follows are done in silence. Maki doesn’t hesitate to select Shuichi’s portrait, even if it starts an ache in her stomach, even if she wants more than anything to attack Monokuma and whoever else is behind this rather than let them take her friend. (Her friend. How long has it been since she’s had one of those? Why isn’t she fighting to the death to keep him?) Subsequently, after the voting, they leave no room for sentimentality. Not like the last several trials. Kaito takes Shuichi into what looks like another bone-crushing hug, and Tsumugi and Himiko embrace him too. By the end of it, Shuichi is crying again. He passes over Kokichi and comes to stand in front of Maki, eyebrows raised, just the slightest of expectant looks on his face.

Ugh. Maki doesn’t even have the energy to snark at him. She hugs Shuichi fiercely, screwing her eyes shut and wishing for this moment to last forever, wishing that she could never let go, wishing that this had gone differently—

And then… like before, Shuichi pulls back, and Maki lets him go, and watches him walk away to a fate that she can’t protect him from.

Shuichi’s execution is… weird.

Himiko watches her own fair share of detective dramas, so she’s familiar with the aesthetic. Or familiar enough, anyway, to know that this is weird. He’s dragged away by a chain—familiar—and slammed into a chair in a rocket ship, which shoots into the sky before starting to drill into the ground. It’s… weird, and overwhelming, and through it all even though Himiko’s heart aches and she’s tired and she just wants to go to sleep with all her friends so she doesn’t have to lose anybody else, she’s… confused, too.

At the end of the execution, the rocket breaks through the earth into a starry sky on the other side and bursts in a fiery explosion. Shrapnel crashes to the ground around them, bumping and clattering, and Himiko cringes away as a bloody piece of metal falls at her feet. Gross. And not to mention, that blood is…

Urgh. Himiko shuts the thoughts off right away and turns her head in the other direction, covering her mouth with a hand. If she doesn’t stop thinking like that, she is going to be sick, and with everything else that’s happened today, throwing up is just about the last thing she needs.

The room quiets once again, but unlike before, this silence is interrupted quickly. Maki lets out a cry of anguish, her mask of neutrality finally falling apart, and drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. Kaito goes with her, expression contorted, and gathers her against his chest. They cry together, the two of them, looking ever so lonely without the third member of their group, and Himiko digs her nails into her palms, glaring down at the floor. She’s so sick of crying. If Tenko was here, what would she say? What would she do?

…She would probably urge Himiko to cry, wouldn’t she? To feel it. But god is Himiko feeling all of it, and it hurts, and no matter how much Himiko misses Angie too it’s hard to believe there’s any kind of deity out there, much less one that actually cares what happens to her. Himiko hugs her chest and rocks back and forth, tears stinging at her eyes. She needs to be strong. She needs to keep it together. There are only five of them now out of the original sixteen. What would Kaede say if she saw them this way? Ryoma, Gonta? Would they urge Himiko to be strong? Would they tell her it’s time to give up?

How can Himiko even think of giving up, though, when Shuichi just gave his life so the rest of them could move forward? How can she consider it when everyone else died so they could get here? Himiko is lazy and apathetic, she’s rude and she’s selfish, but with everything that’s happened, she finds… she doesn’t have it in her to be selfish anymore. Can’t. She has to be strong, right now more than ever, because… that’s what they would want, Tenko and Angie and everyone else. That’s what everyone here needs. Especially with Shuichi gone now, unable to take care of the trials for them—unable to help the way he did for so long.

If Shuichi were here right now… if Shuichi was standing in front of them… if Shuichi was standing in Himiko’s place…

“Guys,” Himiko manages. Her voice is thick and weak and raspy, but Kaito’s head lifts, and Maki’s sobs quiet. They must have heard her, so Himiko clears her throat and continues. “Th-That execution was… it was weird.”

“Ohhh, you noticed it too, huh?” Kokichi chimes in, arms tucked behind his neck. He’s smiling, but as is so often the case, the expression doesn’t touch his eyes. He looks a bit smug, but for the most part he seems malicious, a deep crease beginning to form on the bridge of his nose. His eyes aren’t looking at Himiko. “How curious, that an Ultimate Detective’s execution would be space themed… almost like it wasn’t made for him or something, huh? But that would be totally ridiculous…”

Wasn’t made for him. Why does Kokichi say it so pointedly? Still, Himiko nods.

“Y-Yeah, it seemed like—” Himiko has to clear her throat again. Ugh. Stop crying! “It seemed like it was made for—for Momota, or something, but that’d be weird, right?”

“Would it?” Kokichi does look at Himiko now, head tilted to the side. “Yumeno-chan, I want you to answer a question for me, is that okay?” He doesn’t wait for her response. “Let’s talk about Toujou-chan for a second… isn’t it so totally weird how her motive video was like, way more intense than ours? I mean, I saw yours, you know? Yours was just about some master or something, someone in your personal life you cared about. Yeah, sure, important, but nowhere like running a whole country.”

Himiko’s brow knits. She swallows back the urge to ask about her master, trying to focus on the rest of what Kokichi said. “R…Right.”

“Right!” Kokichi nods. “And then the next motive was the Necronomicon—which you wouldn’t think would be a motive, right? But it turns out, there’s some guy in our school who wants to murder girls by doing a seance, which would be rendered totally pointless if we could just bring them back to life!” Kokichi grins now, eyes almost manic. “Funny, isn’t it? Almost like whoever is behind this killing game knew about Shinguuji-chan. But how could that be? And how did they know when to give that motive? And how did they know Hoshi-chan would be such a perfect victim, hm?”

It almost feels like he’s moving too fast. Himiko reaches up and pulls down on her hat, eyes screwing shut while she tries to piece it all together. They knew about Korekiyo… they knew about Ryoma…

“I don’t—I don’t get it,” Himiko stammers. “When you put it like that, it sounds like they—it sounds like they planned it or something, but they couldn’t—”

“Bingo!” Kokichi interrupts, beaming. “Right on the money, mage-chan! They planned it! And they planned this, too!” He gestures at the execution. “Except, Saihara-chan wasn’t supposed to die here, was he? Or else there would’ve been some fun Sherlock Holmes type execution, I bet, instead of a rocket ship.” His shoulders roll back. “No, if I had to guess? It was—”

“Me,” Kaito says, eyes wide. “It was supposed to be me.”

Now, Kokichi’s face does soften. He turns around, looking at Kaito with his smile practically vanished. “You,” he agrees. “Whatever, however, the guy who was supposed to kill this time around was supposed to be you, not Saihara-chan—and you know, someone around here has been acting awfully twitchy about the prospect of Saihara-chan getting executed.” Suddenly Kokichi grins again, eyes lighting up. “Someone here has been fighting pretty hard to save him! To sacrifice someone else in his stead, even—though I do gotta wonder how they would’ve passed off that execution as mine.”

To sacrifice someone else in his stead— realisation sparks. Himiko gasps. “Ouma, you don’t—”

“Oh, I do.” Kokichi’s grin broadens. “I do, Yumeno-chan. Everything I’ve done since stepping foot in here has been for the sake of ending the killing game—not that it matters anymore, does it, since Saihara-chan’s mistake threw a bit of a wrench in my plans? Still, it’s not a total loss. My plans aren’t the only ones that got ruined. Oh no.”

Now, Himiko is expecting the accusation, knows exactly where to follow Kokichi’s eyes, but it still sends a chill right down her spine when he keeps talking, face twisted into a humourless smile that burns with hatred.

“Isn’t that right, Shirogane-chan?”