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royaltyjunk · 7 years ago

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Confront Nothing [T, New Danganronpa V3]

Summary:

Nobody wants it to be real, he knows that, and when Yumeno calls for him from the kitchen, he shakes off the thoughts of that god-forsaken killing game and forces himself to pretend there's nothing wrong with the world even when there is.

Author's Ideas: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS GO BACK IF YOU HAVEN'T COMPLETED V3

gUESS WHO'S WRITING FIC WHILE SHE SHOULD BE DOING OTHER THINGS

Ha ha ha look at me showing my face and writing emo things ha ha

Oh yeah I'm using the traditional Japanese name thing. So it'll be "last name, first name" and I'll be referring to the characters with their last names. Just because I'm so used to that

This fic's title for a whole month was "saihara-centric fic where I rip apart his feelings" so that should give you a good idea of what this whole thing is going to be about

As always, readable on FF.net and AO3.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

The sound of a moving bookcase fills his ears, a puddle of blood catches the corner of his eye, and he turns his head. There, collapsed and crumpled on the floor, is a man with green hair, a boy that he had once called Amami who can now only be called a corpse, a dead body, a victim of the killing game.

Then he watches despairingly as feet connect with piano keys, as her face goes red and blue, then purple, until she's dead and swinging unsteadily in front of a wall of spikes that destroy her, the Akamatsu Kaede he knew, the Akamatsu Kaede he loved, and he collapses to his feet, unable to comprehend anything except her last words to him, her wish.

The water is crystal clear and there he is. Hoshi Ryoma, the Ultimate Tennis Pro, who killed a gang of mafia for the one he loved, floats in the tank, weighed down by a pair of handcuffs that mean little to the piranhas that attack him and send the water swirling into a whirlpool of death; of blood and flesh and bones and handcuffs that once were a classmate of his.

Then he finds that he can't even see Toujou on the vine she's climbing but he's vouching for her, yelling at her in his mind to escape, to run and get away, but in the blink of an eye the world they thought they saw was just a crude crayon drawing, and the vine she's climbing on snaps, and she plummets to the ground, a scarred and marred body that may have been the classmate that took care of them. Saihara doesn't know.

Akamatsu and Amami and Hoshi and Toujou are all staring at her upside-down, and Saihara can feel the bile building up in his throat and he gags, holding his hand to his mouth when he sees Yonaga Angie, the creator of those eerily perfect wax dolls lying in the center of her own smeared blood. The scene changes, but the bile in his throat doesn't go away, because they find Chabashira's body immediately after the necromancy, and there's something so vile about killing two classmates at once that Saihara doesn't know what to do except weep harder that night.

Then even after they find out the disgusting man Shinguuji really is, and even after he's killed by his own sister, the person he god damn loved, and even after everyone knows he's dead but couldn't really care, Saihara can't help but feel sorry for him. He'd grown to respect the man's presence and knowledge, and to feel his absence was unsettling in the most disturbing way.

He feels the visor drop onto his foot when he sees Iruma's tortured face, her eyes rolled back and her white sclera showing, her blue irises barely showing, and he stumbles back into his chair and stares at Iruma's body with a look that can only be described as despair.

Then bugs are attacking the muscular teenager and the computer tied to a pole, his face puffy with stings, and then Monophanie and Monotaro are lying as scraps of machinery beside the great bug that erupts from them, and the huge bug tears through the air and slams its blade-like arm through Gokuhara Gonta, the kind entomologist who had always wanted to be a gentlemen, who had wanted to protect his friends at any cost.

The sound of Harukawa's knife falling to the floor pierces the silence of the Exisal hanger, the silence that hangs over all of them because of the green crushing machine that spills over with red blood, and the thing that catches Saihara's eye above it all is the purple sleeve hanging out of the crusher, that familiar purple jacket that Momota wears everywhere, and Harukawa falls to her knees as Saihara stumbles backwards, something in him screaming that Momota can't be dead, no one would want him dead, Momota -

Then he's watching as the spaceship comes flying up through the ground, and the door swings open, and there is Momota, his friend Momota, laying in a pool of his own blood as he smiles, and all Saihara can do is watch Harukawa scream and wail as she holds his lifeless body in her arms.

The school is collapsing, and K1-B0 continues to tear down the buildings. Saihara's buried under a pile of rubble, but as Saihara slips out of consciousness he sees a large boulder crush Shirogane in an explosion of blood, and he can't help but feel proud that he's finally stopped these horrible games.

Then they awaken them alive, miraculously, to a hole blown in the Wall, and K1-B0's remains scattered under their feet, and Saihara knows he hasn't been forced to go through the killing game again, it's all a dream but it feels so real, so tangible, so -

He falls off the bed, and his head hits the floor in a loud thump. Pain jolts him awake, and out of instinct, he mutters, "Ow."

And just like that, the nightmares that haunt him every night are gone to the morning, and he sits up, rubbing the back of his head. His long black hair ruffles beneath his touch, and he sighs. He needs a haircut, and soon. Maybe Harukawa can help him.

There's a knock on his door. "Saihara…? Are you alright…?"

"I'm fine, Yumeno," he grunts, slowly standing and opening the door, glancing down at the short woman. "Did you need something?"

She shakes her head, her long red hair falling around her. "No… I just heard a thump from your room and came to see what it was…"

"I'm fine, Yumeno. I just fell off my bed. Who's turn is it to cook today?"

"Mine… I'm going to go now…"

"Alright, Yumeno. If you need help, just call for me or Harukawa, okay?"

"Harukawa won't respond… I'll just call for you…"

Saihara lets out an awkward chuckle. "I suppose you're right."

He shuts the door and hears Yumeno shuffle down the hallway.

The three of them have ended up living together in a remote corner of Okinawa, in a small house meant for three people, just like them. They've been given the house by Team Danganronpa, for "giving them the best ending to Danganronpa they could ask for", even promising to keep their location secret. Harukawa had hissed at them to refuse the house, but Saihara had argued that they couldn't possibly live anywhere else without paparazzi and fans flooding their house, and keeping their location was crucial. Harukawa hadn't spoken to him for two weeks afterwards, but now she acknowledges that his choice was right.

The thoughts bring him back to the nightmares, and the nightmares bring him back to the killing game, that stupid killing game that had ruined their entire lives, all of their lives.

~ / . / . / ~

The lock to their front door clicks, and Saihara's in the doorway immediately. Harukawa brushes past him, her hands full.

"Wait, Harukawa-san - "

"There are more groceries in the car," she replies, setting down the multiple bags in her arms. She pulls open the refrigerator violently, and Saihara knows better than to ask her what happened now. It was something Harukawa would do eventually.

He slips from the house and hurries to the black car in the garage, its trunk still open. He grabs the remaining bags and slams the trunk shut.

"Be nicer with my car," Harukawa mutters when he comes back into the house.

"Oh, sorry."

She shrugs, taking out the contents of another bag. He follows suit, packing away the bagged vegetables and fruit into the fridge.

"...Someone recognized me," Harukawa speaks up, "and tried to follow me home."

Saihara looks at her. Truthfully, it's not too hard to recognize Harukawa behind her short, choppy hair, the purple jacket draped over her body, the colored contacts she wears. It's the best they can do, though, when their facial features have been memorized by crazy fans and paparazzi. That's why only Harukawa is allowed out of the house - she's the easiest to hide, she's the person who's best at seeming like she's a normal person.

"Please don't tell me you - "

"I didn't," she responds instantly. "They told me our season was dumb when I confronted them, then left."

Saihara doesn't say anything; simply shuts the refrigerator door and makes to go back to his room.

"Wait, Saihara."

Saihara turns to see Harukawa pull out a bottle of scotch from the final bag. He steps back inside the kitchen immediately, reaching for glasses. She smiles, and pulls out the cork with little trouble.

"You should stop doing that. One day you're going to shatter the glass bottle."

Harukawa sighs and rolls her eyes, but pours him a glass filled to the brim when he places the glasses in front of her.

"We should stop drinking so often," Saihara murmurs, leaning against the counter as he takes a sip of his scotch.

"You know we're not going to stop anytime soon," Harukawa retorts, downing a large gulp of her drink.

Saihara shrugs, but he can't ignore the truth in her words. There's something comforting about drinking, but not in the way he wants it to be comforting. It's comforting in the way that punching someone is, satisfying in the way that breaking something is.

"I don't even think I know what I'm drinking for," Saihara mutters in the heat of the moment. The alcohol's hitting him already, he can tell. He never could hold his drink that well. "There's so much."

"Give me one thing," Harukawa demands, "one god damn thing, you overly emotional young adult."

"Akamatsu-san." The name falls from his lips before he can stop and even think about it.

"...You too, huh." Harukawa snorts, and she slams her fist into the counter. "They tampered with our minds… those assholes…"

"No. I've just… always been like this. For as long as I can remember. Which doesn't say much."

"What do you mean?"

Saihara takes a long sip of his drink. "I… don't know, honestly. I've always fallen in love easily. And after everything Akamatsu did…" he lets out a bitter laugh. "How could I not? I haven't even been able to get over her, even after all these years."

Harukawa, for once, hums in agreement. "Yeah. I think I've always been like that too."

It's then that Saihara realizes Harukawa's been speaking like Momota all these past few years. The way her words are spoken, and the swear words thrown in, it all seemed so obvious, he can't believe he missed it - a detective like him missed something so different about his friend, and he realizes it when he's drunk. He can't believe himself.

"To Momota," he murmurs, and even in his drunken stupor he can't crack a smile. Harukawa touches her glass to his.

"To Akamatsu."

~ / . / . / ~

"Yumeno," Harukawa frowns. "Have you gotten taller?"

"Hm…? I think so. My clothes aren't fitting that well anymore…"

"I can see that. Wow, are you actually growing?" She crosses her arms, looking Yumeno up and down. Saihara scratches the back of his neck, laughing.

"She definitely is. A rather late bloomer, aren't you?"

"Well… yeah… I'm twenty one, and just now hitting puberty…" Yumeno grumbles, and Harukawa grins coyly.

"Isn't the cut off usually nineteen or so?" Saihara asks, frowning.

"Nyeh… Did I set a new record for the latest age to hit puberty?"

Saihara shrugs, and Harukawa shakes her head.

"I don't know, but we're not calling those World Record collector assholes over."

"Definitely not."

Saihara shakes his head wordlessly. They don't need the attention - the people crowding to see them, the paparazzi asking for interviews and spouting crazy questions, the fans screeching and squealing. They have enough of a reminder of their dependence on the team they had given up their sanity for. Every month, a pile of checks come in, enclosed in an envelope with the Team Danganronpa logo etched on it, sealed with stamps of them in the 53rd season.

They're checks from Team Danganronpa, who give them checks for a lifetime because the 53rd season is "undoubtedly worth all of our money". It's hard to accept them, hard to feed them into the ATM, hard to flip through the cash they get and hard to stare at the total accumulating in their credit cards. All three of them know it's for the best, though. They wouldn't be able to get by if they didn't.

"Saihara…" Yumeno calls, and he snaps back to reality. He looks over at her.

"What is it?"

"How much taller do I have to grow?" she inquires, standing with her back to Harukawa's back. Harukawa laughs and doesn't pull away, glancing over at Saihara.

He stares at Yumeno and Harukawa, and then he realizes just how much Yumeno's grown, and disgustingly he's reminded of Saionji Hiyoko, a Danganronpa character he knows his previous self absolutely loved, and he realizes just how much he hates Team Danganronpa for ruining his life for him - every aspect of his life.

~ / . / . / ~

He can't say he's not surprised when he stumbles through the darkness into the kitchen and through the glass door sees Yumeno in the backyard puffing smoke from her mouth, a cigarette in her hands.

"Yumeno," he calls as he opens the doorway, and she starts, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"...Saihara," she murmurs. "I didn't expect you to be up at this time."

"What time is it?" he asks, his shoulder leaning against the doorway.

"Two or three in the morning…" she responds, her breath smoky. "...Did you know I do this often?"

"I knew there was a reason for the smoke I faintly smell all the time when I fall asleep."

"I thought so… You always talk yourself to sleep… talking to one or two until you fall asleep… of course you'd know."

"So you knew."

"Harukawa told me… That's why I never bothered you when we first moved in and I'd get nightmares… I'd always go to Harukawa's room…"

Saihara shuts his eyes and sighs, a wash of tiredness coming over him.

"Hey, Saihara…"

"Hm?" He opens his eyes, tilting his head.

"When you talk to yourself… you pretend that you're talking to Akamatsu, don't you…?" Yumeno questions gently, looking over her shoulder at him.

"...Yes." A gaping hole opens in his heart, and he must reflect it on his face, or in his eyes, because Yumeno looks at her feet, her face full of shame.

"...Sorry. I… don't even understand what you and Harukawa are going through…"

"It's okay. But… try not to smoke as much," he murmurs. "I can't say that I'm doing better, and I can't say that Harukawa is either, but… I want you to do better, Yumeno. I think she does too."

"Mm… I'll try," she mutters as she drops the stub of tobacco to the ground and crushes the butt of her cigarette under her heel. He steps inside and shuts the door to the backyard. He ignores the fact that Yumeno pulls out another cigarette immediately after, and feels his heart go numb as he downs a can of beer in the fridge meant for Harukawa.

~ / . / . / ~

"I'm going out with someone tomorrow," Harukawa tells them over dinner, and Saihara almost chokes on his spaghetti.

"Wait, what?" he asks, coughing.

"Really?" Yumeno questions, her eyes sparkling. "Who?"

"He's just the clerk at the grocery store. That's all. He asked me to go to dinner with him, and I agreed. I don't see no reason why…" she trails off, and Saihara's fingers tighten around his fork.

He knows what she wants to say. She wants to say that she doesn't see a reason not to agree. She wants to say it, she really does. But Saihara knows she can't say it. There's a name branded in her mind, a person's touch branded on her body that will never go away no matter how much she tries. She will never forget him, but she sure can try.

It makes Saihara shudder, how Harukawa is changing. She's gone from cold and uncaring to someone who wants to change, who wants to be different, but there's something off about the way she's changing or trying to, because it's so much like the last time she tried to change, and everyone at the table knows what happened to her after that, mainly because the result is sitting right there, telling them she's going to change.

So it's truly not a surprise to Saihara when Harukawa comes storming into the house, her face streaming with dried tears and smeared mascara. Saihara and Yumeno are out of their rooms in an instant, next to Harukawa immediately when she drops onto the couch, punching angrily at the arm of the couch. There's a fist-shaped indent in the leather that slowly fades away, and Harukawa runs a hand through the hair that reaches down to her back now.

"What happened?" Yumeno questions softly, kneeling in front of Harukawa. Saihara leans against the wall next to the couch. "You said you were going out, weren't you?"

"I can't do it," Harukawa rubs at her eyes, but doesn't bother wiping away the rest of the tears that fall down her cheeks. "I can't…"

"Did he do something?" Saihara inquires, and Harukawa nods slowly. "What did he do?"

"He… said he had a surprise… and then he took me to the… the planetarium."

Harukawa's words are soft, but Saihara freezes up as soon as she says that. Yumeno sniffles softly, sitting beside Harukawa. The brown-haired woman shifts to rest her head against Yumeno's shoulder.

"He asked me why I would have fallen in love with a lame guy like Momota. He was Momota's friend. He knew him… and he hated him. And he tried to…" Harukawa's fingers twitch angrily, curling into fists, and Saihara sits on the other side of her. He stares at her fists, watching her long nails dig into her palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

"I'm sorry, Harukawa…" he murmurs, and Yumeno rubs her back gently. Harukawa sniffles, and Saihara can't help but rest a hand on her shoulder when he sees the tears crawling down her cheek.

"I wish I could move on…" she sobs, drawing her knees into her chest. "That idiot… he…" Those words, the way she speaks them. The Harukawa from the killing game, the Harukawa he'd seen grow had come back. He squeezes her shoulder, pulls her into a one-armed hug.

"I know," Saihara murmurs softly, and she bows her head, letting the tears fall onto her legs, staining her old red leggings. Yumeno braids Harukawa's hair, ties it with her old red scrunchies. For once, they relive the pain of the killing game together.

He knows they can't recover unless everyone they've ever lost comes back, but that's impossible. Those deaths were real, those executions were real and that killing game was real.

He knows it's all real, and nobody wants to confront it. They will, eventually. He knows they will.

But for now, they can't. And they won't.

#danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa v3: killing harmony #ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers #Saihara Shuuichi #Harukawa Maki #Yumeno Himiko #Akamatsu Kaede #Momota Kaito #saimatsu #harumomo #avietta writes #avietta writes danganronpa

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royaltyjunk · 7 years ago

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Never Could Have Loved [T, New Danganronpa V3]

Summary:

There's never been anything wrong with Harukawa Maki's life, at least in her eyes.

Author's Ideas: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS HOLY SHINTO DON'T READ THIS SHIT IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED V3

Okay look I love post-game fics about survivors as much as the next guy - I wrote two of them - but listen listen listen

PRE-GAME FICS? ABOUT HARUMOMO? I HADN'T EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT THOSE AND NOW I'M LIKE HI MOVE OVER POST-GAME FICS I'M GOING DEEP INTO THIS HELLHOLE

*cracks knuckles even though I can't do that* aight, let's do this

Also yeah I'm still going "last name, first name" because I'm a weeb yahahaha

AND this fic is highly speculative so be nice with me please thanks

As always, readable on FF.net and AO3.

Disclaimer: I wish Kodaka wasn't so evil but I don't own Danganronpa so yeah, nothing I can do about it

There's never been anything wrong with Harukawa Maki's life, at least in her eyes.

Sure, she might not love her parents, and her parents might not love her back. Sure, she may or may not have depression. Sure, she might have had to and continues to deal with more than any kid at her age will ever have to deal. But there's never been anything wrong with her life, in her eyes.

There's only been much more that she's wanted to change about her life, that she never can.

There is her mother, a distant figure in her life who abuses her. Badly. She remembers days in elementary school where she'd try to run away from home. She knows now that it is better to simply take it all. The little good that her mother does, and all the bad she gives Harukawa.

There is her step-father, a man who has never cared about his step-daughter. She knows he sees her as a nuisance, and he knows she sees him as a bother. They've never tried to get along, and frankly, they both know they'll never get along.

Then there's her real father, the man who might have made her, but cares less about her than anyone in the world. Her father could meet a stranger and care more about them than his own damn daughter.

So it's not a surprise that she's depressed, doesn't do well inside or outside of school, and gets abused in her free time.

The only solace she can find in her life is her fraternal half-twin. It's a messy situation that involves her mother sleeping around in the same week, and somehow ending up with her and her brother, but he's the only speck of good her mother has ever given her.

Unfortunately, he lives with her real father after he decided no, he didn't want his actual child, he wanted the other child, and she can hardly find an excuse to visit him. There's been many times where she's had to climb the walls outside the house and knock on her brother's window. Truthfully, she doesn't feel bad about it.

Her brother's name is Gokuhara Gonta, and he's a bit of a delinquent.

It's actually not easy to spot the resemblance between the two despite them being twins - pretty much all they share is their mother's brown hair and red eyes, and even then Gokuhara's hair has a tint of green that's not in hers. Hell, they don't even share the same last name, although now that she thinks about, she'd much rather be called Harukawa than Gokuhara, and he probably thinks the opposite.

Instead, their genetic bond is more obvious in the small things. Their hair grows out the same. Their hands are both rather small. Their feet are rather large. Their eye shape is the same. Both of them have thin lips.

Gokuhara's part of a gang, and not a good kind of gang. A gang that beats people up with no remorse kind of gang. He's constantly looking to pick fights, and has been suspended from school on multiple occasions. Thankfully, because of her father's job as the principal of the school, he hasn't expelled, but it makes Harukawa disgusted to think her brother's only in school because of nepotism.

So it's not a surprise the two of them end up auditioning for Danganronpa's 53rd season, just to get away from their lost and destroyed lives. It's not that either of them are die-hard fans - they just want to get away. Perhaps that's why so many people love Danganronpa - it's a show of escapism, a show that takes you away from everything you've been feeling and plunges you into the depths of those characters' minds.

Harukawa sighs, clenching her fists. The large television displays a glowing red number: 95. Gokuhara shifts nervously beside her, and she glances over at him.

"Nervous?"

"I guess," he mutters. "It's just - "

The number increases by one, and the door to the gymnasium opens up as the speakers spark to life, announcing, "Number 96."

Gokuhara stands, taking in a deep breath as he stands. Harukawa pats him on the forearm reassuringly, grinning.

"It's not like it matters if you get in or not."

"...Yeah. You're right, Mak. Thanks," he grins back, and disappears into the open doors of the gymnasium. A Team Danganronpa member escorts him in, and then closes the door behind her half-twin. She wishes him luck in her mind.

The hallway fills with even more obnoxious and loud teenagers, and Harukawa shifts deeper into the folding chair placed along the hallways, ignoring them the best she can. She doesn't even notice one of them walk right up to her before they tap her on the shoulder.

"Hey, can I take this seat?"

Harukawa looks up, seeing a teenager with sharp purple eyes and the most ridiculous hairstyle she's ever seen. She shrugs. Gokuhara probably wouldn't mind. Besides, they're leaving after she auditions anyways.

"Sure."

The teenager plops down beside her, grinning. "What number are you?"

"97," she responds.

"You're next?" he tilts his head. "I thought you'd be more nervous about the audition."

"It's not like it's a big deal for me anyways," she answers, fiddling with her gloves. It's been awhile since she's worn these silk gloves, since she's almost never gone out where strangers will see her hands. Today's an exception. She doesn't need anyone asking about the blooming and ugly purple bruises and numerous scars scratched across her palm and on the back of her hands and along her fingers.

"Seriously?"

"It's not like getting in will make my shitty life any better."

"Oh," the purple-haired male murmurs, blinking. "So you have a shitty life, huh?"

"More than shitty, sure."

"What's your name?"

She glances at him with a tinge of anger in her eyes. "Why do you care?"

"Am I not allowed to know a nice girl's name?"

"...Harukawa. Harukawa Maki."

"Nice. I'm Momota Kaito."

"So are you one of those crazy Danganronpa fans?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I definitely like it a lot, y'know?" he smiles widely. "It's fun to try and figure out who killed who, and how the people react to the killings and everything!"

"...Morbid," Harukawa comments under her breath, and Momota lets out a chuckle.

"I guess. But it's entertainment, so it's not anything worrying. I mean, pretty much everyone else here does the same."

The speakers buzz to life, and a deep voice calls, "Number 97."

She stands, and Momota stands with her. She glares at him.

"What are you doing?" she asks angrily.

"Just thought I'd see you off," he grins. She ignores him, and pushes through the crowds of people towards the double-doors leading to the gymnasium.

"Good luck," he mutters, and her hand clenches tight around the door handle.

"Sure."

She steps through those doors, and somehow feels like her life has changed because of one god forsaken boy.

~ / . / . / ~

"...What the hell is this," she deadpans, slamming the paper onto the table.

The man sitting in front of her looks up at her. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

"'Ultimate Assassin?' Why the hell am I under that talent? I told you, I wanted to be the unknown Ultimate. Why am I under Ultimate Assassin?"

The man sighs, glancing over her paper. "Listen, little miss. It's hard for us to make sure you get your preferred Ultimate. Besides, we already have an unknown Ultimate, and we think you'll fit nicely as an Ultimate Assassin if you're chosen."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. Now go. I don't have all day to deal with your complaints. I got hundreds of other kiddos like you to deal with."

"Wait a minute - "

"Next!" the man calls before Harukawa can protest, and all she can do is give up, trudging out of the dining hall and through the hallways. She turns the corner, and almost runs into Momota, who's leaning against the wall along the hallway.

"Oh, hey. Harukawa, right? I didn't know you'd made it through the first cut."

"Yeah, it's Harukawa. I did. Surprisingly."

Momota laughs loudly. "I think you'd fit into a cast of Danganronpa. So, what talent did you get?"

Harukawa rolls her eyes. "It's not like my opinion matters," she responds. "So anything is fine."

Momota frowns. "Then what did you get?"

"...Ultimate Assassin," she responds. "Then again, lots of other people have gotten that talent. We'll just have to see who they pick as their Ultimate Assassin this year."

"Better than the Ultimate Astronaut," Momota sneers. "God, it's such a lame talent. I don't know anyone who would willingly choose that talent."

"So were you just shoved into that category because they felt you didn't fit any other?"

Momota rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, I guess we're in the same boat."

Momota offers her his hand, and she high-fives it tentatively. The scar on her finger tingles, and she ignores the stinging feeling of the bruises all over her - even the ones in her heart.

~ / . / . / ~

Harukawa rubs her cheek, and Gokuhara curls his fists.

"I'll hit them real good, I'll kill them, I swear - "

"Stop it, Gokuhara," she mutters, watching the retreating backs of the couple leaving the school. "Don't."

"But Mak, they - "

"Shh," she hisses. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that here?"

"Sorry, Harukawa… I - still! I don't understand why you still put up with her shit!"

"Gokuhara, there you are!" Momota appears behind Gokuhara as he turns the corner. Harukawa shrinks against the wall. "Some - oh. Hey, Harukawa. I thought your parents were… visiting you."

Harukawa shrugs. "They left. I'll be going now, Gok - "

"Harukawa, what's that on your cheek?"

Momota's words make her stop mid-sentence, and she clamps her teeth together. "It's nothing."

Momota grabs her by the wrist, turning her to face him. "Is that a bruise?" He frowns, and Harukawa rips her hand from his.

"It's nothing. Leave me alone."

"A bruise isn't nothing!" Momota hisses. "Who did it?" His head swivels to look at the other teenager. "Gokuhara, you - "

"Stop it!" Harukawa bellows angrily. "Gon didn't do anything, and it's none of your god damn business, Momota!"

The purple-haired teenager freezes, staring at her, and Harukawa cradles her cheek in her hands before realizing what she's said.

"...Shit."

"Mak…" Gokuhara murmurs, resting a hand on her shoulder. She looks away, her face scrunched into a look of shame and unhappiness.

"So…" Momota starts after an awkward silence, "you two are…?"

"Fraternal half-twins," Gokuhara grunts. "From the same disgusting she-devil."

Harukawa just sighs, letting her hands fall to her side. "Gon, I've told you not to call her names like that."

"Well I'm sorry that I'm the only person willing to stand up to her abuse!"

The biting words Gokuhara yells leave a cutting silence in their place, and Harukawa glares at him.

"I thought I told you not to bring that shit up," she grinds out coldly between clenched teeth and curled fists, a sense of rage and darkness swarming her. Gokuhara winces. Momota's eyes grow angry.

"So it was her…?"

"Stop it," Harukawa mutters, too tired to argue. "I'm used to it, okay? Stop."

Momota unclenches his fist, turning his head to the side. "Damn…"

Gokuhara doesn't say anything, and Harukawa pats her hand on his forearm. "You should go…"

"Oh yeah…" Momota looks at the brown-haired boy. "Some kid's looking for you. Black hair, looks like a whiner. Said he'd be by our dorm in five minutes."

"Oh!" Gokuhara starts, then cracks his knuckles. "Mak, if you need me…"

"I'll be fine, Gon," she responds tiredly. "Go."

He pulls Harukawa into a quick one-armed hug before hurrying away, casting a final look over his shoulder as he disappears behind the corner of the hallway. Harukawa leans against the wall, glancing up at Momota.

"So? What do you want with me?"

"Huh?" Momota tries to act surprised, but Harukawa can see a look of guilt crossing his face.

"If you really were looking for Gon, you'd have left with him. If you're here with me, I can only assume you're here because you have something to talk with me about. Whatever it may be."

"Man, and here I thought I was being subtle…"

"Not sure if you know this, but you're the exact opposite of subtle," Harukawa snaps back snarkily before sighing. "Come on. You can talk while we walk back to the dorms."

"Wait, Harukawa - "

"Hurry. Up," she hisses, turning and walking down the tiled path that leads through the large school that's actually a filming lot. Momota hurries after her, and the two of them walk away from the entrance hall.

"Harukawa, look. Why can't you just get along with everyone? Why do you have to act so… distant? I mean, I guess know now, but come on. At least don't go out of your way to ignore everyone who tries to talk to you."

"There are hundreds of people here, and you're asking me to get along with everyone? Seriously?"

"Not everyone! Do you think I'm insane? I just mean that… you know. Try not to death glare everyone who tries to talk to you. I mean… shit, can't you at least get along with me?"

She glares at him, and he frowns.

"Stop that. I just told you not to do that, didn't I?"

Harukawa pushes open the glass door to the dormitories wordlessly, and Momota follows her to her room, shared with several other girls. She knows they're inside - she can tell from all the giggling.

"You'll never change who I am," she retorts back, turning to look at him now that they're standing in front of her dorm. "Even if I try, I'll never change."

"Look, Harukawa. You're really freakin' pretty and you might come off as a bitch, but I like you a lot, alright? So even if - "

Her hands shoot up, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him down towards her. In a rush of adrenaline, she's kissing him hard, her hands in his hair and lips hard against his.

He makes a noise of surprise against her lips, and she pulls away.

"What?" she inquires flatly. "Is that not what you were wishing for?"

"I… no, I just didn't think you'd…" he gestures vaguely between the two of them, and Harukawa rolls her eyes, exasperation slashing through the feeling of excitement and pounding nervousness.

"Would you rather I hadn't done it?"

"No," he replies immediately, "that was freakin' awesome. I - "

"Cool," she cuts off, pulling him back down for another kiss. This time he takes the lead, pulling her close and kissing her hard. Her lips are going to bruise, she knows it.

She brushes it off. Not like she's never been bruised before anyways.

"Hey," he mumbles when they pull apart, and he presses his lips against her cheek, his words muffled by her bruised and purple skin. "I really really like you. And I think you don't deserve everything you've gone through."

"I think I do," she replies softly, and Momota frowns, pulling away from her.

"Harukawa - "

She shakes her head, and slowly takes a step back, opening the door to her dorm and stepping backwards into it. "Good night," she whispers, her voice cracking and unable to retain its cold and harsh tone.

"...Night," Momota breathes, and she shuts the door in his face, her fingers trembling from the unknown feeling coursing through her veins.

~ / . / . / ~

The hundreds of teenagers that flock the filming grounds are all sent home.

"We will announce the results in three weeks," the Team Danganronpa executive tells them, and then sends them back to the dormitories and their chosen rooms to pack up and leave.

Harukawa sighs, jamming her clothes and everything she brought into her suitcase and leaving before her roommates even come back. She never really liked them - prissy little girls who'd gossip and giggle long into the night, to the point where Harukawa had to throw things at them to shut them up.

She steps outside, following the large crowd of teenagers swamping to the entrance of the school. Harukawa glances around, watching the slow construction of the large Wall being built. It will soon be finished, and sixteen poor souls will be trapped inside it.

Harukawa doesn't know how to feel about the fact that she might be one of those sixteen people.

Gokuhara stands beside her, his phone in his hand. "Kenji and Yuki are picking us up."

Harukawa frowns at the mention of her mother's name, but sighs. "Can't be helped. Not like I want any of them to come pick us up."

At that moment, Gokuhara's phone begins to vibrate, and he quickly picks up the call.

"Kenji? ...Yeah, we're here… Okay. See you." He hangs up and glances over at Harukawa. "They'll be here really soon."

Harukawa nods, squinting. In the distance, she can make out a trail of cars, rumbling along the road. "Is that them?"

"Should be," Gokuhara responds, taking Harukawa's suitcase. She lets him, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the wave of frostiness that swamps her for a reason she knows all too well.

The car pulls up in front of the two of them, and Gokuhara rounds the car towards the trunk, opening it to put away their suitcases. Harukawa pulls open the car door, taking a step in.

"Harukawa!"

A loud and familiar voice splinters the air, and Harukawa starts, looking over her shoulder. A sense of sorrow and guilt throbs her heart, and she can almost feel it splitting.

"Momota…"

"Get in," her mother hisses at her. "We don't have time for your shit. We're busy people, unlike you lazy teenagers."

Her mother's words open a feeling of anger and rebelliousness in her heart that's never been there. Confidently, she steps out of the car and turns towards Momota, who's running for her. She meets him halfway there, right beneath the large doorframe of the entrance to the Academy for Gifted Juveniles, amidst a crowd of people pushing against them.

"You're leaving now?" he asks softly.

"Yeah. Yuki's not going to wait for us… obviously." Momota bites his lip, and she looks at him. "Did you want to say something?"

"I… I'm gonna miss you a lot," he starts.

Gokuhara calls for her frantically from inside the car. Harukawa can feel her mother growing increasingly impatient and frustrated.

"I know," she responds.

"And I think I love you."

"I know."

"Harukawa!" her mother yells. Her voice is frigid and enraged.

"'I know'? That's all you have to say?" Momota asks angrily. "We might never see each other, and that's all you have to say?"

"...I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so… so sorry."

Momota's enraged eyes soften, and he glances away guiltily. "No… it's not your fault." He pauses, and then touches his fingers to her cheek. The ugly purple bruise has long faded, but the silent action brings Harukawa back to that night where they were so close. "I guess… this is goodbye, Harukawa."

"Yeah," she whispers, lowering her head. Momota brushes her bangs behind her ear and she pulls away and climbs into the car, staring out the window as they drive away and ignoring her mother, angrily yelling at her with a true rage and impassioned anger in her voice.

Her heart throbs. It's a bruise that's going to be there forever, she knows it, but what's one more bruise over the million others she's going to get?

~ / . / . / ~

She wakes up thrashing and kicking, and her foot slams against the door of a locker.

"Shit," she hisses, feeling pain throb through her toes, but pauses. A locker? Why the hell is she in a locker? The locker door pops open when she kicks it again, and she stumbles out, falling to her knees.

"Damn…"

She stands, dusting off her skirt and looking around. It's a classroom… and the windows are barred.

"A school?" she wonders aloud.

The locker beside hers begins to clatter and rattle loudly, and Harukawa pulls open the door, ready for any nasty surprise that could greet her.

Instead, a tall teenager with familiar purple hair tumbles out, and he groans. Her heart thuds, and her heartbeat pounds in her ears as he looks up at her.

"Haru...kawa?" he asks blearily. She squats in front of him.

"Momota," she smiles hesitantly. He scrambles up, but stands a little too quickly and accidentally knocks his forehead against her chin. She grunts in pain as she stands, feeling her jaw rattle and her cheek throb from recently healed bruises.

"Shit, sorry!" he exclaims, but she waves off his concerned questions and frantic actions.

"It's fine."

He pauses, gently touching his fingers to the back of her hand. "Are you… really okay?"

"No," she responds bluntly, and he doesn't press her anymore. He knows what that tone of voice means, and for once, she's grateful someone understands her. He just curls her hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly.

"...I thought so. But hey, at least you made it. At least your shitty life can be no more."

"So it's really happening, is it?"

"I think so. We'll have to see… but it definitely looks like the audition grounds."

"Filming lot."

"Well, the audition grounds were the filming lot…"

"I know. Let's go."

Momota hums in response, leading her out the room. He doesn't let go of her hand, and she notices. She couldn't care less.

They take one step outside of the classroom, and come face to face with a large angry green machine, screeching and stabbing at the ground close to them. Momota pulls Harukawa behind him.

"Shit! Harukawa, run!"

"You too!" she hisses, pulling him away from the machine. "You're not fighting that!'

They dash down the hallway, dodging every haphazard attack that could possibly take their heads off. They stumble down the stairs, skipping every other step to quicken their descent.

They turn to make a left at the foot of the stairs, but the machine jumps in their way, and Harukawa bites back a scream. Momota doesn't bother, and just yells for her to follow him, pulling her along before she can protest - not like she would.

"Where do they want us to go?" Harukawa pants heavily, and Momota points ahead.

"Through there!"

Sure enough, there are the familiar double doors of the gymnasium, and the two of them tumble in. Two teenagers turn around, one with green hair and one with blue hair.

"Hi," Harukawa breathes, "do you have any clue what we're doing here?"

"It depends…" the green-haired male mutters, but the blue-haired girl shakes her head.

"I've got nothing…"

The door explodes open behind them, and then people stream in - one after another until there are sixteen of them. It only confirms Harukawa's suspicions.

"It is, isn't it?" she whispers into Momota's ear, and he leans down, nodding.

"Definitely seems so. I mean - "

Five large mechanical robots fall into the gym and surround them. Momota pushes Harukawa behind him, narrowing his eyes.

"These bastards - "

Five stuffed bears hop out of the killing machines, and Harukawa blinks. Momota starts.

"What's going on?" A blonde girl asks. "Could it be - "

A pile of assorted clothes are flung into the air by the five bears, and Harukawa blinks as the clothes seem to magically pull themselves onto her and her old school uniform disappears miraculously. She supposes it's part of the "filming magic" that Team Danganronpa has in their arsenal.

He grabs her by the hand when they're not sparkling, when their clothes are different, and their everything is about to change. He feels the same, even under that ridiculous purple jacket with space patterns and white shirt stamped with red. She looks up at him.

"You never could have loved me," he states softly.

And he's not wrong. As much as she tried back then, there was something so tentative in her, so cold and frightened, that found it too scarring to try and love him.

"I wish I could have loved you," she replies, and her voice is guilty, her eyes are brimming with tears.

"...Yeah. I know."

And as they black out, in their new clothes, their new talents, their new identities, she feels him press a gentle and loving kiss on her lips, so unlike their previous kisses, and she kisses him back, feels a sting of bitter irony from the fact that she's finally experienced love, the real Harukawa Maki finally god damn loves someone and she's about disappear from the world.

#avietta writes danganronpa #danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #new danganronpa v3: killing harmony #Harukawa Maki #Momota Kaito #Gokuhara Gonta

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royaltyjunk · 8 years ago

Text

Spacegirl [HaruMomo, T]

Summary:

[New Danganronpa V3 spoilers] She shouts like a supernova, cries the stars, and loves like Venus. Cover drawn by me.

Author’s Idea: 4/4 of my birthday gifts to you guys.

I AM EMO FOR HARUKAWA/MOMOTA

Every time, Danganronpa. Why do you do this to me. Every time I think everything’s going to be okay, it’s not. I just… urgh. I could strangle someone right now. But I’ll resort to writing and drawing, because the cover for this on Fanfiction.net which will be posted later this afternoon because birthday = zero free time apparently was actually drawn by me! What a concept! Anyways.

It’s gooey and fluffy but still angsty. I-I really don’t know???

Disclaimer: I don’t own Danganronpa or else this ship would’ve acTUALLY WORKED OUT.

“…Harukawa-san is still not here,” Saihara says softly, fret threading through his voice.

“Mm… maybe she was caught,” Yumeno wonders aloud.

“Harukawa-san? Caught?” The detective gives the magician an incredulous look. “She couldn’t be. She was the first one out, remember?”

“Still…”

“Don’t worry too much. I’m sure she’s fine,” Saihara reassures. His hands twitch, and his fingers tap against the tiled counter of his small kitchen. Yumeno, standing beside him, casts constant glances at the door down the hallway, her eyes willing it to open, for Harukawa to step out and be fine.

The gentle pitter-patter of footsteps sounds just before the door bursts open. Saihara jumps in front of Yumeno, glaring at the door. “They might have found us out,” he whispers.

“Saihara-kun, look!” The redhead hisses, pointing at the figure that falls out of the door.

It’s Harukawa, gasping for breath as she uses the wall as a stand. She turns to look at them, a grim look on her face that melts away as she sees her companions.

“Harukawa-san!” Yumeno rushes forward.

“I have it,” the assassin responds, showing her a gray tablet, tucked under her arm. “Kiibo’s data… it’s all downloaded here, on this tablet, as an AI.”

“You’re alive… you’re alive!” Yumeno cries, throwing her arms around the other teenager. Harukawa grunts, a small smile on her face.

“Did you really think I was caught? I just kept them occupied enough, that’s all. I lost them a while ago, taking a detour, but I had to go the long way to get back here.”

“See, Yumeno-san?” Saihara points out, a tired smile on his face. “I told you, Harukawa-san would be fine.”

Harukawa looks up from the magician hugging her, and Saihara manages to look through the darkness of the hallway at the dirt and scratches streaking her face. She catches his glance and shakes her head.

“These are nothing. Just little flesh wounds, that’s all.”

“If you say so…” Saihara murmurs, casting a dubious look at her.

Yumeno whips around, a look of realization over her face. “We have to go, don’t we, Saihara-kun?”

He nods, gesturing to his two companions. “Come-”

“Wait,” Harukawa interrupts.

“What is it?” Saihara frowns. “We have to get going - we have to leave now.”

“I know, but…” she steps back into the room she had emerged from, tugging something with her.

“A child?”

“An orphan… I found him in the slums while running.”

Saihara raises an eyebrow at her, but she bluntly ignores the strange look he gives her, choosing instead to scoop the child up and let the orphan shift around in her arms.

“What’s his name?” Yumeno asks softly.

She lifts her head proudly, meeting the detective and magician’s eyes. “Kaito. Harukawa Kaito.”

~ / . / . / ~

She sits under the canopy of lavender flowers, her hands blistered and lips swollen.

“Did the bounty hunters come again?” Kiibo’s voice echoes through the space, and she sighs, holding the tablet closer to her.

“Can’t they just leave us alone? They know better than anyone that I can and will protect myself.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Team Danganronpa will leave you alone until you’re all dead,” Kiibo murmurs.

Harukawa sighs, reaching out to pluck a lavender flower from the canopy above her.

“Where are you?” Kiibo asks. “I thought you were on the run.”

“We settle down every now and then. The park nearby has a canopy and a bench, so I can sit here and watch Kaito play around.”

“Kaito?” Kiibo frowns, looking at her.

“Oh,” Harukawa murmurs. “He’s… an orphan. I adopted him… sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“I found him in the slums and took him in.”

“Isn’t that-”

“Abduction, yes.”

Kiibo frowns, but doesn’t say anything, simply looking up at Harukawa, who stares up ahead blankly, her eyelids heavy. She blinks a few times, a great sigh falling from her lips.

“Are you alright, Harukawa-san?” Kiibo questions, tilting his head.

“Mm.” Her only response is a gentle hum.

“…Do you miss him?” Kiibo’s voice sounds sympathetic, and she curls her lip.

“Are you trying to pity me?” She snarls.

“I can’t, remember?” The robot’s AI chuckles bitterly.

“Oh…”

“Will you tell me? I may not be able to understand well, but it would be worse to bring it up to Saihara and Yumeno.”

Harukawa shudders at the thought. She’d brought it up once, a few weeks after they’d escaped the television set, to Saihara, thinking that he’d understand. The glare and cold tone of voice she’d received in return warned her to never speak of it again.

“I… yes, I’ll talk.” Harukawa draws in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I… may shut down some part through.”

“Of course. Don’t feel obligated to keep going if you don’t want to, Harukawa-san.”

“Thank you, Kiibo-kun.”

The small version of Kiibo inhabiting the tablet nods, a smile on his face.

“It’s hard to accept he’s gone,” she mutters. “He was such a loud and obnoxious idiot… Always going on about believing people. He never told us any of his troubles, but we unloaded onto him…”

“That’s the person Momota-kun was,” Kiibo starts, and then pauses, a guilty look flitting across the robot’s face. “Er…”

“It’s fine,” Harukawa whispers, curling into herself, “I’ve come to accept the truth… that I fell in love with a fictional man. But I loved him… and that’s all there is to it.”

“Papa was fictional?” The soft whimper comes from behind her, and Harukawa turns abruptly. Her son stands behind her, his hands clenched together and his eyes wide, trembling slightly.

“Kaito… how long were you there?” Harukawa asks with a dull look in her eyes, lifting her son from behind her into her lap. She sets the tablet with Kiibo’s AI to the side and nods to the robot, who smiles back and shuts himself down.

“Who was that?” The child inquires.

“An old friend,” the young woman whispers, stroking her son’s hair.

“Were you talking about Papa? Where is he?”

Harukawa stops herself from instinctively freezing up, continuing to move her hand gently through her son’s hair. “Papa is… he’s in the stars, now.”

“Will I ever see him?”

“…Maybe, Kaito. Maybe, one day, you will.”

“Really? Really, Mama?”

“I think so,” she smiles, a bitter wave of hurt swamping her behind her mask of happiness.

“Yay!” The child giggles happily. “I’ll get to see Papa!” Then he pauses, a world of worry in his eyes. “But… you said Papa was fictional.”

“He's…” Harukawa clears her throat, trying to find a way to answer her son’s painfully real question. “He’s real, but- you’ll understand one day.”

She turns her head away from her son, taking in a deep breath. There’s a familiar stinging in her eyes, and she screws them shut, trying not to let the hot tears fall down her cheeks, tries not to let it drip from her chin and fall in ugly splotches on the bench she’s sitting on.

“Mama, you’re crying!” Kaito cries.

“I’m fine, Kaito,” she smiles, wincing a bit at the pain that shoots through her from the bruises on her lips.

“Really?” He glances at her with worried eyes, and she lets out a gentle and rare laugh at the intense expression in her son’s eyes.

“Yes, really. You don’t need to worry about me, okay?”

“Okay…” Her son looks away, and Harukawa sets the child down onto the bench beside her. Kaito clings onto her arm with small hands as the assassin raises a hand, plucking another lavender flower from the growing mass of tangled leaves and vines over the canopy.

Kaito follows, stretching a hand up and straining to reach a nearby flower branch. She gives her son the lavender in her hands, and he giggles happily. Carefully, she watches him from the corner of her eye.

A thorn of realization stops her thinking with a thug, and jolts, staring up at the sky. With a pang of infinite emotions, she murmurs under her breath, “Saihara-kun’s not here, but… We haven’t stopped training, have we?”

Kaito blinks in confusion. “Mama? Did you say something?”

“It’s nothing. I was just thinking about something your dad and I used to do all the time a few years ago, alongside Saihara-kun.”

Her son’s eyes sparkle at the mention of his father. “Papa? And Uncle Saihara?”

She nods. “Every night, we’d gather at something just like this.” Harukawa gestures to the canopy around her. “And we’d train. Whether it was exercising or training… I always thought it helped.”

“Exercise?” Kaito asks, tilting his head. The assassin stands, smiling.

“I do them all the time. I’ll show you one.”

At that, she drops to her feet and hands, beginning to move at a rapid pace.

“57, 58, 59…”

“Wow! Mama’s so fast!” The child cries in excitement.

Harukawa pauses, glancing at Kaito. “You’ll be better than me someday.”

“Really!?”

“Of course. Your father was never able to beat me, but I’m sure you will.”

“Mama beat Papa, and I’m gonna beat Mama!” He giggles, and a wave of regret drowns Harukawa. She stands, dusting off her skirt. Her son drops the ground, attempting to mimic his mother’s movements. Harukawa just stares up at the sky.

It glitters brightly, with stars that dot the dark blue and black sky. They shine and glimmer all at once, and for a while, she keeps her eyes focused on the stretching space before her, like she’s staring at a painting or a picture of something she’s never seen before.

“…Thank you.”

The words slip from her lips before she can stop herself, and her vision blurs. She wipes her eyes before extending a hand to Kaito.

“Come on, Kaito. Let’s go home.”

The child scurries to the bench where the tablet with Kiibo’s AI is, holding it against his chest with one arm and clinging onto Harukawa’s outstretched fingers with the other hand.

She musses his hair tenderly. “Thank you.”

She’s not sure who she’s thanking, but she thanks them anyways for the tears that spill down her face as she stares at the star-filled night.

~ / . / . / ~

Blood splatters against her cheek, and she stares coldly at the corpse that falls before her. The other two men dash at her, but she moves quickly, kicking one in the chest before whipping around, bringing the other one down with a fierce punch in the face. His nose is broken, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. He’s barely breathing, and his companion scrambles up from his winded position against the wall.

Quickly, she dashes for him, and slices through his torso in one clean movement. He falls to his knees and crumples into a twisted heap, crimson blood pooling beneath him. Glancing down at the broken-nosed man, she stabs her knife through the back of his neck, hearing his shriek pierce the silence of the old house.

She leaves the weapon in his body, and draws the two daggers resting in the dagger sheaths that are hanging onto her upper thigh. She kicks the two corpses down the old wooden staircase, hearing them thud to a stop at the bottom, where a pile of bodies lay in a bloody and matted mess.

Her keen hearing catches gentle footsteps, dashing down from the broken glass window in her room. The pitter-patter of them sound familiar, and she realizes why a split-second before he appears.

“Harukawa-san!” It’s Saihara, dashing down the hallway.

“Saihara-kun! Why are you here?” She asks, but he takes aim with the pistol in his hand and fires down the stairs. There’s a sickly thud, telling her that Saihara has killed an assailant.

“To help you, of course. I heard received word that you were trouble, and rushed over as quickly as I could.”

“Received word?” She asks. The dark look on his face tells her a different story, and he nods slowly.

“I infiltrated the company,” he murmurs.

“Only I’m supposed to do that,” she hisses, “I was professionally trained for that. Not you, Saihara-kun!”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, then!? I can’t do anything as a detective, can’t I at least try to help you!?”

A multitude of footsteps peak her hearing, and she shoves Saihara behind her, grasping her daggers tightly in her hands. He hears the noise as well, and loads the pistol in his hands, a defiant look in his eyes as he trains the gun on the source of the sound.

Five men jump forward from the shadows, each armed with daggers and knives. One has a gun, but Saihara rushes forward, takes aim, and shoots him down quickly, multiple gun wounds appearing in the enemy’s chest. Harukawa jumps at them then, driving her weapons through the remaining four at lightning speed.

One of the enemies retaliates at her, and they parry each other’s blows. He thrusts aside one of her daggers and makes a dash for Saihara. Caught off guard, the detective manages a shot at their shoulder, but gets a nasty wound on his arm. Harukawa leaps over the enemy, twisting in the air and shoving her remaining dagger into their neck.

“Mama…?”

She gasps, spinning around, forgetting about the dagger buried in the man’s neck. There, in the doorway of the room she had been protecting, stands a trembling child, barely illuminated by the moonlight.

“Kaito!” She whispers, rushing forward. “I told you to stay in your room!”

“I-I…” Kaito sniffs, “I just wanted to protect you, Mama!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Harukawa hushes gently, hugging the brown-haired child. “I know you’re worried about me. But you have to trust me sometimes.”

“Okay, Mama…” he wipes his tears. “I’ll try.”

“You’re safe now,” Harukawa murmurs, “I promise.”

“Are you hurt, Mama?” He asks worriedly, spotting the blood dripping from her cheek and streaked in her hair.

“No, I’m fine,” she shakes her head. “Are you okay, Kaito?”

“Of course! Those scary men are no match for Mama, so I’m okay!”

“Good.” She pauses, listening for any signs of movement. Saihara gestures for her to hurry, heading to her bedroom, where their only route of covert escape lays in the broken window of her bedroom.

Kaito clings to her fingers as she leads him out of his room. Harukawa follows Saihara, but all three of them freeze at the sound of loud footsteps, crunching against the wooden floorboards.

“Harukawa-san, hurry!” Saihara yells, already out of the broken glass window.

“I’m coming!” She calls back, scooping up Kaito in her arms. She dashes through the hallway, kicking away the oncoming men and running away at a seemingly impossible speed. Saihara tosses her a spare gun from a nearby corpse lying beside the window, and she catches it before turning, squeezing off a couple of shots before handing Kaito off to the detective.

“We don’t have time to make sure they’re all gone!” Saihara growls, pulling at her arm. He winces at the sudden movement of his wound, but pays it no heed. She nods, leaping through the window after him.

“Over here!” The detective waves her over to a lower part of the roof, jumping down onto the concrete below. He grunts as the jolt sends another wave of pain through him but hangs on until Harukawa follows, and takes Kaito from him.

“Is Yumeno-san here?” She asks.

He nods. “She should be coming soon.”

As if it were part of some drama-filled movie, a black car pulls up to the side of the road, and the duo dash forward to meet Yumeno, who unlocks the car and lets Saihara into the passenger seat. Harukawa crawls into the back seat with Kaito, and barely manages to close the door before they’re off, Yumeno’s hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel.

“We’ll have to get away. As far as we can,” Saihara murmurs. Yumeno nods. Harukawa casts a glance behind her at the old house perched atop the edge of a mountain, a sympathetic look in her eyes. Her brown gaze hardens, and she turns her head away abruptly, reaching under the seat in front of her. She pulls out a jar of anti-infection ointment and a strip of gauze, grabbing a paper towel as well.

“Saihara-kun,” she gestures to the detective. He hisses as he lifts his arm towards her, turning so that she can see the wound on his bicep clearly.

Harukawa snatches a water bottle from beneath her feet and dips the edge of the paper towel into the water before cleaning away the detective’s wound, seeing the raw flesh begin to show beneath the dried and crusty blood. She brushes a glob of ointment onto the other edge of the paper towel, and spreads it across the slash. Saihara flinches and bites his lip, grunting as the car hits a bump in the road and jostles his arm. She wraps the gauze around his arm, and he flexes his arm, moving it around to test it.

“Good?” She asks.

He gives her a wordless nod, staring out to the mountain road in front of them. The trees around them begin to thin and part, giving them a view at the night sky.

“Mama! Look!” The young boy points up to the stars. “The stars are so pretty!”

Something in her breaks, then. A tear falls gently from her eye, and she doesn’t move to wipe it away. Instead, she turns the child around to face her.

“Promise me you’ll get to space,” Harukawa says, extending her pinky to her son.

“Of course, Mama!” He smiles brightly, hooking his pinky onto hers.

She gives him a gentle smile back. “Thank you… Kaito.”

#danganronpa #new danganronpa version 3 #new danganronpa v3 #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 spoilers #Harukawa Maki #Momota Kaito #Saihara Shuuichi #Yumeno Himiko #avietta writes #avietta writes danganronpa #harumomo #kaimaki #avietta's battles of barhara

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royaltyjunk · 8 years ago

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Rehabilitates [T, Naegi/Kirigiri]

Summary: [AU] “It's a process,” he says, smiling. She shakes her head. “It's a lie.” In which one cares too much and another cares too little.

Author’s Ideas: After constant needling from my friend, I wrote this. Yay. It's an AU where Kirigiri is Ultimate Despair. I'm also fucking up DR3 canon because it's an AU, so Ultimate Despair were not brainwashed, but joined of their own free will. Also that the people who died in the 77th Class Mutual Killing don’t wake up, and the people who do are still despair-sane, so they get whisked off to therapy. More feels-

Also readable on FanFiction.

Disclaimer: I don't own Danganronpa.

Her nails scrape against the bottom of the stone basin as she cups her hands, drawing water. The reflection that was shown in the water’s surface distorts. It’s fitting, the way the water breaks apart her face, much like how she was destroyed herself.

Disgusted with her self-reflection, she closes her eyes and splashes the water onto her face, rubbing her fingers along her cheeks and over her lips. Flakes of dirt rub off onto her fingertips and drift into the water. With a slam of her hand, it swirls away into the stone sink, and she wipes her face off with a ragged towel. A raw scratch across her cheek flashes back at her in the cracked mirror.

She curls her lip at the image of herself in that mirror, and throws the rag on the ground.

There’s a flash behind her, and then a blonde girl is pulling on her hair.

“Let go,” she grinds between her teeth.

“Then stop leaving your shit all over the place,” the blonde shoots back, releasing her grip on Kirigiri with a flourish.

She turns away, a disgusted curl of her lip showing as she walks back to the twin beds behind her. The stiff mattress barely moves when she sits on it, and she runs her hands through her rugged and damp lavender hair.

Sonia sits in front of her, immersed in examining her chipped nails.

The metal door to their cell creaks open, and Kirigiri sighs.

“Kirigiri Kyouko.”

She doesn't bother turning around, instead focusing on combing through her hair with her fingers. Only when Sonia taps her shoulder does she stop. Kirigiri looks up, meeting the eyes of the man who called her name, a familiar face.

“So you've fallen in with these commoners,” he snarls.

“Shut it, Togami,” she retorts, brushing past him. “Hurry up and take me to him.”

He huffs and brushes off his suit, taking quick steps down the hallway. Kirigiri follows a close few steps behind, and the guards around her cell close the door behind her.

Togami looks over his shoulder, a sneer on his face. “Stay back, trash.”

She grits her teeth, a sharp retort on the edge of her lips. He narrows his eyes, and she shuts up, slowing her steps. He turns away, an unpleasant look on his face as he climbs the stairs.

At the top of the stone stairs is a door that she’s grown too accustomed to seeing, and Togami opens it. A brown-haired man inside glances over his shoulder, smiling as Kirigiri steps forward and Togami reluctantly holds the door open for her.

“Good morning,” Naegi calls in a cheerful voice. Kirigiri just sits in the cushioned chair in front of him. Togami closes the door, and she’s just left in the room with Naegi.

“How have you been?” He asks cheerfully, bustling about the small room.

She shrugs purposefully, knowing that Naegi can’t see her. Silence descends over them, and he glances over his shoulder.

“So, you still don’t know?” He asks, the peppiness in his voice gone.

“Putting it like that gives a bad impression,” she says bluntly.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiles. “I just wanted to see if it was true.”

“Well, it is.”

Naegi nods, and pulls up a chair in front of her. “So? Did anything major happen recently?”

“No,” she responds, crossing her legs and glancing at her dirty nails.

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything. I’m here for a reason.”

“You’re here for a reason, but I’m not.”

He sighs, leaning forward. “Kirigiri-”

“Stop right there,” she interrupts, holding up a finger in front of him. “You give me this lecture every time I come here, and I am sick of this. I only come here because you will literally drag me here if I don’t, and I don’t intend to tell you anything.”

“But-”

“I’m not your classmate anymore. I am your worst enemy now, and you must treat me like your worst enemy.”

“Still! I can’t just ignore that we worked together!” He stands up suddenly. “You helped us when we were trapped in Hope’s Peak Academy, in that Mutual Killing Game! Even if you betrayed us after we joined the Future Foundation, I believed in you! I still have faith in you!”

She glances up at the man, a cold look in her eyes that clashes and battles with the fiery passion in his eyes. He sighs and sits back down, smiling at her.

“I’m sorry. I got a little… heated up there,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “I just wanted you to know.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” she replies, crossing her arms. “Besides, I don’t care.”

“Kirigiri, why don’t you try?”

“Try what?”

“Telling me,” he says. “Tell me about what happened, or what’s happening. Don’t you want to try this at least once?”

She sighs. “Tell me again why I’m here.”

“To help you, and to get you to open up to others. Come on, Kirigiri. If you try it once, I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“Fine,” she runs her hands through her hair and sighs. “Just this once… I’ll try.”

Naegi smiles and leans forward. “Alright. Go on.”

“I… I don’t know where to start, though.”

“Then, talk about what happened. During the Tragedy, after it, whenever.”

“During the Tragedy… I betrayed. I was in Hope’s Peak Academy, wasn’t I? I collaborated with Enoshima and Ikusaba, didn’t I? I was planning my betrayal since the start. I lived peacefully in the Academy for despair’s sake. I made you the Ultimate Hope for despair’s sake. I joined the Future Foundation for despair’s sake. What else can I say? I just wanted to make everyone despair, even though I was never truly invested in despair itself. I… can I stop now?”

“Um… alright, I suppose. Why?”

“I just don’t want to talk about it. Aren’t you supposed to know when you’ve crossed the line?”

“I suppose so… well, doesn’t that make you feel better? Telling another what you think?”

“I suppose. Still, I’m not going to get better,” she states as she dusts off her skirt.

“It’s a process,” he says, smiling.

She shakes her head. “It’s a lie.”

~ / . / . / ~

Naegi sees her for two days a week, four weeks a month. Every time, he greets her with a happy-go-lucky grin, and kind words that she doesn't want.

He tries his best to help her, he really does, and she can tell. He goes out of his way to make sure she’s treated well, and pays her regular visits when he’s unable to make it to an appointment.

The other Remnants of Despair don't bring up the subject of the brunette Future Foundation branch leader. She hates it and Sonia knows well enough, especially thanks to the blooming bruise on the princess’s arm.

“We’re going to try something new today,” Naegi announces when Kirigiri settles herself into her seat.

“And what would that be?”

“We’re going to try doing some physical check-ups from now on. Today is just your eyes, but in the next few weeks, we’ll be checking to make sure you all are healthy.”

She twirls a piece of her lavender hair between her fingers, sighing as he finishes telling the news.

“I know when I'm healthy or not. You don't need to do this for me.”

“Kirigiri, not to be rude, but you only know causes of death. We want to make sure you don't get sick, or don't have any pain.”

She snorts. “Say that one more time, and I'll apply those causes of death knowledge to you.”

“I-I’m sorry!” He squeaks.

“Let's get this over with then,” she mumbles. “What do I need to do?”

Naegi opens a black case, pulling out a portable light. “Look at my ear,” he says, pointing at his ear.

She moves her eyes, and he flashes the light into her eyes, a blue light that pierces her eyes. She doesn't blink.

“Turn your head to the right,” he instructs. She follows his words. “Now look at the wall in front of you without moving your head.”

She does as he asks, and he gently shines the light - this time white- against the whites of her eyes.

“Now turn your head to left and do the same.” He does the same procedure on her. After a bit, he shuts the light off. “You can turn back now.”

“Why do you bother with trying to help us?” She asks bluntly.

“Well… It's not all about the Remnants of Despair either. It's mainly you, Kirigiri,” he responds, storing the flashlight-like device into the black case.

“Explain.”

“I don't think there's a need for explanation,” Naegi smiles. “You helped me through hell and back. I trusted you, you trusted me. I enjoyed our times together. I want to help you. I helped you back then, didn't I? Who's to say I can't help you now?”

“Even after I betrayed you?” She counters.

“Especially after that. I hadn't expected that… Out of all of us, you were the least suspicious. I didn't expect it all… I didn't know what to do. I was so sad… I felt so betrayed. It was hard for me to believe it at first. Even now… I hardly believe it. It's strange. Really strange. It's been a year since then and… I don't know if I'll recover… You hurt me… badly…”

He trails off then, and tears spring up in his eyes. They don't go unnoticed by Kirigiri.

“Don’t cry,” she tells him harshly. “I’m not here to be your therapist.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

Still, they stream down his face, and he hastily wipes them away. When his vision clears, she’s no longer sitting in the chair in front of him.

~ / . / . / ~

She gets sick of the world.

“Is there something wrong? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Proceed with the session already.”

“Alright… Last time… Ah! We asked you to do some physical activities. Do you feel better after doing these exercises, or doing the activities we tell you to?”

“No.”

“Have you been-”

“You aren’t getting better, are you?” She interrupts pointedly.

He stays silent, but the bitterly guilty look on his face betrays his quietness. She lets out a great sigh, and he purses his lips. Silence descends over the two.

“No,” he says, his voice as soft as a whisper. “I’m not over it. I probably won’t get over it.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t allow her emotions to be on display to him.

“Anyways,” Naegi starts in an awkwardly joyful way, “I finally convinced everyone to let you move into the Future Foundation building on the island.”

“What about all the others here?”

“There’s only one spare dormitory, and… we think you’re doing the worst out of everyone here.”

Kirigiri doesn’t deny it. There’s a reason Sonia doesn’t swear and sulk anymore, a reason Owari actually eats now. There’s an unspoken change in Souda’s mood, and definite change in Kuzuryuu’s appearance. Even Kamukura isn’t… Kamukura. He smiles a bit, rarely laughs, but most of all, he cries - more times than she thought. Sometimes there’s a physical difference in him too.

Yet, Kirigiri doesn’t show these signs of recovery. She’s unorganized, cold, dissatisfied. She swears, she curses, and she has her violent tendencies that the Ultimate Detective Kirigiri doesn’t have.

She blows a breath upwards, disheveling her bangs. “Do I have a choice in this?”

“Not… really…”

She stands. “I’ll go get my things, then.”

“I’ll-”

“I don’t need help,” she retorts, spinning on her heel and storming out of the room.

She walks down the stone hallway silently, listening to Owari joyfully laughing at something pitiful that Souda did. She turns the corner and sees the duo, sitting in Souda’s cell against the wall. Kamukura is splayed out on the bed, his eyes closed. There’s something off about the man with every talent, but she brushes them off, ignoring their happy “hello”s and “good morning”s.

“Kirigiri, you’re already done with the session?” Sonia asks once she opens the cell door.

“I’m moving to the Future Foundation building,” she informs coldly, bending to pick up her detective’s coat that is hanging on her bed frame.

“Oh! What a wonderful occasion!”

“I’m moving because they think I’m doing the worst out of all of you.”

“Nonsense! I think you are doing fine. You ought to cherish this opportunity. Here, I’ll call everyone else!”

Before the purple-haired woman can protest, Sonia is rushing down the cell hallways, calling for her classmates. Kirigiri sighs angrily and continues collecting her belongings.

“Here,” Owari offers her a large fabric bag when she comes in with the rest of her classmates. “I think this was supposed be for you, but they ended up in my cell for some reason.”

Kirigiri takes it silently, stuffing the bag with what little clothing and entertainment she has.

“I’ll miss you,” Souda says wistfully. “You were nice to have around.”

“Yeah!” Owari agrees, a grin on her face. “Make sure to come visit!”

“Yes, I would like to know how you are doing as well,” Sonia claps her hands together and smiles, a joyful expression in her eyes.

Kuzuryuu just offers her his hand, and they shake hands stiffly.

Behind the blonde gangster is Kamukura, who leans against the outside of the cell, his eyes closed. Kirigiri exits the cell, and faces Kamukura, expecting a cynical analysis of her situation, or nothing at all.

“Take care,” he says in a voice that she’s never heard, and when he opens his eyes, they flicker from crimson red to an emerald shade of green. He offers her his hand as well, and she takes it in a firm handshake.

“I will, Hinata Hajime.”

She enters Naegi’s room after the farewells from her comrades, and he smiles.

“Looks like you’re ready,” he observes, and stands, taking hold of a fabric bag identical to hers.

“What’s in there?”

“New supplies we thought we should give you. There’s toiletries, notepads, some emergency food… things like that.”

“Let’s get going already,” she grumbled.

“Of course. Here,” he unlocks a door on the other side of the room, and they exit into the bright and bustling 14th Branch of the Future Foundation. “Do you remember where the dormitories are?”

“I haven’t been in this stupidly massive building for two years. Of course not.”

He chuckles and leads her down the rightmost hallway. “Here, I’ll lead you.”

They climb the stairs at the end of the hall, and make it up three stories before Kirigiri is stopped by a familiar woman.

“Kirigiri! Is that you!?” Asahina cries happily, placing a hand on the purple-haired woman’s arm. Naegi just smiles and continues walking.

“Yes,” she responds.

“It’s so nice to see you! I was so worried about you! I hope you were okay…”

“Yes, I was fine. Can I go now?”

“Oh… sure,” Asahina releases Kirigiri’s arm, an ashamed yet worried look on her face.

She manages to walk up the stairs, and the new floor gives her a decision between another staircase or a hallway of dormitories.

“Naegi?” She calls.

“Your room is up here,” Naegi answers from a higher floor. She climbs the stairs two at a time, following the sound of his voice.

She climbs up the stairs, coming face to face with the brunette when she makes it past the final step of the staircase.

“All the way up here?” Kirigiri asks, a solemn look on her face.

“It’s… easier for us to check up on you,” he says bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.

“You’re telling me not to try any horseshit, aren’t you? Fine,” she holds her head high and pushes open the door to her new room.

It is a room larger than her cell, thankfully, with running water and electricity, something she hasn’t had in awhile. It was actually a relief for her to see things she hadn’t used for such a long time. She lays her hand on the remote, and the television in the corner of her room buzzes to life. It’s on some channel with a dramatic “lovers are separated” sob story, and she scoffs.

“Who even put this here?”

“Ah, that was Fukawa… I’m guessing she put it on this channel.”

“As expected of her,” she muttered coldly, placing her bag of belongings beside the bed. He follows suit, and begins to unpack everything in the bag he’s holding.

“The bathroom is in this room over here,” he says, placing down the new toiletries that were given to her on the sink counter.

She grunts, and reluctantly opens up her bag, unpacking as well.

It’s near sunset when they finish, and Kirigiri falls onto her bed with an exhausted sigh.

“Here,” Naegi says, offering her a metal water bottle.

She takes the bottle silently, drinking the liquid inside. She glances inside the bottle before looking up at the brunette. “Is this tea?”

“Togami brewed it for you.”

She gives him a strange look, but he chuckles. “He can be courteous if he wants to.”

“It’s not that, it’s- never mind.”

He looks at her strangely, and she brushes off his weird look. “Get going already. You have more things to do than help me here.”

“I… alright, if you insist,” Naegi stands, making towards the lone door.

“You forgot the water bottle,” Kirigiri says, walking with him to the exit. He steps out, and then turns to face her.

“You can keep it,” he smiles.

“Thank… you.. for the help,” she stammers as the unfamiliar words roll off of her tongue.

“Kirigiri, we talked about this. Smile,” he implores.

She sighs. “That’s your job,” she murmurs under her breath. He looks down at his feet, his eyes wide and face red.

“I love you,” he blurts out, glancing up at her.

She laughs bitterly. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t.”

“In the past, when we were classmates… did you love me?”

Her voice clogs up in her throat then, and she slams the door on him. The television continues buzzing its dramatic sob story show, and she throws the remote at it. The screen shatters in a splash of glass, and she falls back against her bed.

Her head hurts, her world is spinning. There’s the familiar smell of blood in the air, and she can barely register what’s happening when blood spills from her lips, splattering the boringly white sheets.

She’s seeing stars, and then blacks out.

It’s poison, her favorite way to kill, that claims her life. He’s apprehended for her death.

They never recover in the end.

#danganronpa #danganronpa au #avietta writes danganronpa #Naegi Makoto #Kirigiri Kyouko #Naegiri #danganronpa fanfiction #avietta writes

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