Danganronpa: Locked Doors of Despair

Ch.5 Daily Life Part 3: Of Incapacity, Atrocity, and Tenacity

[A/N] Mild trigger warning for c*r cr**h*s in the second scene (nobody gets hurt)

Tozen

I sit down in my chair, which is now a machine, and stare at Monokuma expectantly.

"Puhuhu! Excellent! You're prompt as always! I'm almost giddy to try this out!" he cheers. He spins a big wheel, and it turns so quickly that staring nearly makes me dizzy, like a childrens' carousel that I would always fall straight off. Eventually it slows to a halt. "Fifteen! Oooh, that's fun!"

"Is it mine?" I ask nervously.

"Try it out and then you tell me!" The capsule shuts around me, and then suddenly the capsule is gone as an entirely new world spreads out from the center and fills my vision. I can even feel the sunlight and the slight breeze. And though I know, intrinsically, that I am me, it feels like I take upon a character. I highly doubt this is my fear.

I stand at the doorstep of a house I don't know. I feel like I was expecting the place to be bigger, more lavish, but it's a humble place. Not a wreck or a falling apart shed or anything, just a normal house. There's a muddled blend of hesitance and destiny in my heart, like I was born to stride right in there. I grit my teeth and clench one of my fists. And with the other hand, I twist the knob and throw the door open.

"It's me," I tell them simply, "and it's time."

The people-- a couple holding two small children to themselves tenderly-- are ones I distinctly feel that I've never met before. Yet, it feels like they are fundamentally vital to who I am. The little ones are even less familiar, like, despite the fact that I know next to zero about the couple, the children have nothing to do with me. Speaking of them, their mere existence takes me entirely off-guard, like my balance is thrown and I'm falling.

"Tozen... we're so sorry. We weren't ready. We were scared, and young, and stupid.. And that could never excuse what we did, and we could never possibly hope to make it up to you, but we've never stopped thinking of all the wrong we did to you. It causes us so much pain, and yet we know that it could only be a fraction of what you've had to deal with."

This is someone's worst nightmare? Wouldn't some people dream of such a heartfelt apology?

And yet, in this simulation, I can feel it. The heaving in my chest, the wavering of my convictions, this one goal that I've single-mindedly held for my entire life slipping through my fingertips like sand. What was it all for? What was any of it for? What am I for, if not for this thing that they're robbing me of?! They're stealing something important from me AGAIN!

"Tozen!" someone yells. I swivel my head to look. Weirdly enough, it's a well-known nutritionist whose books inspired me in the past, so I can only assume this is supposed to be some sort of mentor figure. He looks at the scene unfolding before him, sees my reluctance, and I'm struck with a deep-seated shame. "Tozen, we have to go. So either do what you came to do, or give it up. I can't be the one to make that choice for you, but whatever you decide, it has to be fast."

"HOW?! How am I supposed to choose?!" I scream. "I worked so hard, waited so long, only for them to try and weasel their way out of this with fucking pity?! How was I supposed to know there'd be kids here?!"

The kids are acting adorable, asking who I am and playing with my suspenders and giggling as the adults look on with regret and concern. I command my knees not to shake or buckle, trying to convince myself to just do it, just fulfill my goal-- whatever that is-- and be done with it forever so maybe I'll finally be happy. This was supposed to give me everything I wanted. And it feels like time stops, like I'm in one of those choice-based video games where I can't go anywhere or do anything until I make a decision. I'm locked in limbo. And yet it feels like if I don't choose soon, I'll be endangering someone. An eternal grip of mortification and panic makes my brain whirl around manically. And then I'm ejected.