Chapter Text
Kokichi woke up gently; that was a first. He didn’t know how long it had been since he had been pulled out of sleep by anything other than a nightmare or, (what, in his opinion, is much worse) the grating voice of the monokubs on that damned morning announcement.
What woke him quickly became obvious, even to his sleep-addled brain. There was a small hissing sound. It was similar to the hiss of a shaken soda bottle as you turn the cap gently, trying to release the gas slowly so as not to have the soda spray everywhere.
He sat up slowly and looked over to his rantaro effigy, its creator freshly dead and her murderer having faced a horribly gruesome fate the previous evening.
Kokichi quickly shook his head, dismissing his previous train of thought. Thinking about his dead classmates rarely did anything good to his psyche. There were also much more pressing things for him to worry about, anyway. Like the gas being dumped into his room from the vent.
Now that his eyes were clear, he could see the gas as it dispersed, looking almost like mist. There was also a very distinct smell and taste to the gas, while it probably wasn’t smart to inhale it to test that out, he’s done worse. He did worse to himself for the previous trial, he’s reminded as a headache stabs at his skull.
Right, back to the gas.
It both smelled and tasted disgustingly sweet. Don’t get him wrong, Kokichi loved sweet things, but even he has his limits; this tasted like straight sugar.
Kokichi stood up to leave his dorm. Why would he want to stay if someone was pouring possibly poisonous gas into his room? But, alas, it seems his assailant accounted for this, as the door wouldn’t budge. At all.
Either all the effort he spent trying to open his door, the gas being dumped into the room, or a combination of both left him a bit loopy. After a bit of pondering, he grabbed an empty notebook and began writing. Why not, best case scenario, he’s able to collect his thoughts and come up with a plan, worst case scenario, he dies, and Saihara can solve his murder a bit faster thanks to the note he wrote.
Seemingly, the minute his pen hit paper, Kokichi spaced out. Writing anything that came to mind, with seemingly no regard for what was necessary information or what would end up being a red herring in his trial. Eventually, he could no longer hold the pencil steady, the gas beginning to affect his coordination. Once it got to this point, he accepted it. Closing the notebook and tucking it away just enough not to be immediately obvious, but still visible.
Now that he’s thinking about it, he should cover his whiteboard as well. What was written on there was for his eyes only, and maybe Saihara’s if Kokichi deemed it necessary for his plan. A plan, he reminded himself, he will likely never get to go through with. He quickly shook the thoughts from his mind. There was no use dwelling on it.
After a bit of digging around in the back of his closet, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out an extra top sheet that Monokuma had been gracious enough to provide them all, and threw it over the whiteboard, careful not to mess up any of the writing underneath.
Even this small action left him reeling and lightheaded. This gas was slow-acting, but it definitely got the job done. He could feel himself about to pass out. There was nothing he could truly do about his situation, so he might as well suck it up. Hitting his head on something as he fell definitely wouldn’t help, so he resolved to wait for his death in his bed; at least he would be comfortable.
As he laid down, his upper body resting on the headboard, he felt his eyelids getting heavy. He fought to keep them open, but it was a futile endeavor.
He doesn’t remember anything after that.
—
Shuichi woke to the sound of his doorbell ringing continuously. As he shuffled out of bed, he glanced at the time, 8:07. Ah, he had slept through the morning announcement. He tried to straighten himself up a bit before opening the door slightly.
Kaito stood outside his door, his face shifting from worry to relief as he saw the boy standing in front of him.
“Sidekick! I wanted to check on you since you hadn’t shown up for breakfast yet. Is everything ok?” the taller man asked, his loud voice filling up the room.
Shuichi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and let the door swing open fully. “Oh, sorry. I- uh slept through the morning announcement. The last trial must have tired me out… Anyways, let me get ready, and I’ll be right there,” Shuichi responded, giving Kaito a slight smile before closing the door and getting ready.
As he dressed, he became aware of a horrible feeling settling in the pit of his stomach; something felt wrong. Nothing odd had happened yet; it wasn’t the first time he’d gotten a really bad feeling over nothing. It was probably just his anxiety acting up.
Shuichi ran a hand through his hair to try to straighten it up as much as he could. It was getting a bit too long for his liking since he’s been in the game without a chance to cut it; it’s longest places about half an inch from reaching his shoulders.
Ignoring the pang of dysphoria that shot through him at that realization, Shuichi opened his door, not entirely surprised to find Kaito still waiting there for him.
“You ready to go, Shuichi?” Kaito asked, pushing himself up from where he was leaning against the wall.
Shuichi silently nodded, and the two of them began the trek across the courtyard to the school. They walked in silence; it wasn’t tense or uncomfortable, it was just silent. That was until the dining hall came into sight, the two boys could hear the chatter from the end of the hall.
As the doors opened, Shuichi looked over to assess how all his friends were doing since he saw them. Last night’s execution had been quite brutal, and even though none of them had been particularly close to Shinguji, it was still hard to watch.
At the thought of the trial, his mind wandered to the victims, Yonaga and Chabashira. He instinctively glanced over at Himiko. The three of them had been quite close. The redhead seemed entranced in a conversation with Shirogane and Gonta, who were both emoting expressively. She clearly didn’t get a good night’s sleep last night, eye bags and tear stains still present on her face. He couldn’t blame her. Shuichi was much more of a mess after Kaede was executed, and Himiko had known the two girls much longer than Shuichi had known Kaede
Kaito instantly gravitated towards Maki, who seemed to be being held captive in a conversation between Miu and Kiibo. Once Kaito arrived, she had an excuse to walk away, relieved to escape what seemed to be a quite vulgar conversation if the flustered look on Kiibo’s face said anything.
As he scanned the room, he realized something. Someone was missing. Ouma was missing.