Danganronpa: Painful Truth

Magical Realization

Kokichi slumped against the trunk of a large tree, his purple eyes fixed numbly on the ground. It was the same conspicuous tree where Maki had been training the previous morning. He could feel a few of the telltale gashes in the bark behind his head. He had been so optimistic at that time, determined to make a better impression on the unfortunate group of peers he'd met in the killing game, even despite the agonizing nightmares still fresh in his mind.

He'd thought he'd managed to convince himself that he was perfectly content to accept their hatred. He'd spent so much time and energy trying to believe it that he'd almost thought it was what he wanted. They had every right to hate him, especially those who had lasted longer in the game than he had. Gonta, in particular, should have hated him.

Of course, Shigeri had decided that his methods of coping with his regret were unacceptable. They had insisted that the nightmares wouldn't stop until he did something about them instead of simply giving up. The irony and hypocrisy of someone like Shigeri scolding him for taking the easy route was almost ridiculous enough to bring a smile to his face.

He attempted a grin, just for fun, but found he didn't have the energy to lie to himself without a good reason. Instead, the dark forest floor blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. He'd thought, for a brief moment at least, that Shigeri's suggestion would work, but maybe that had just been another lie he'd told himself for courage. He should have known before he'd even started that it was too late. He'd used up any small chance he could have had at redemption to set one last plan into motion. A plan that, just like his own personality, had only served to infuriate everyone involved.

You're alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.

He rubbed his eyes vigorously, as though trying to wipe away the cruel little voice echoing through his mind. It wasn't even Shuichi's voice anymore. It was his own sinister, mocking voice, but with a sadistic undertone that he barely recognized. He couldn't help but wonder if he actually used such a chilling tone for his jokes and stories on a regular basis. He wanted to believe that he didn't, that such an awful voice had been left behind at that horrible place, but he couldn't be sure. Now that he knew he was capable of being the legitimate villain he had emulated during the killing game, he realized that he didn't even know what to think of himself anymore. How had someone like him ever managed to find such a loyal group of friends?

"I'm their leader," he replied automatically to himself, speaking aloud partly to verify his own voice. Although he was relieved to hear none of the malice he'd been imagining, the weak and childish sound in its place was almost as upsetting. He ignored it and continued to mutter the comforting words to himself. "I'm the boss. They all respect me, and look up to me, and..."

The words that usually filled him with confidence and power only increased the intensity of his intrusive thoughts. Were they truly his friends, or just henchmen, nothing more than other kids who wanted to be involved in his fun? Did they even like him? Whether or not they did, how long would it be until one of his ambitious schemes led them to their deaths? He'd already caused the 'death' of a potential friend once before, hadn't he? It had been intentional, in fact, and he'd somehow even managed to laugh mere moments afterward. He'd been trying to justify it to himself ever since. It was all part of the plan, sacrifices were necessary in order to ruin the killing game.

So who would end up being the next sacrifice?

Feeling slightly sick, he shook his head quickly and rubbed his temples, as though he could massage away his guilt. He heard slow footsteps approaching, but he didn't care enough to put on his usual charade. He didn't even look up to check who had followed him. He was too exhausted and distracted by the barrage of uncomfortable truths racing through his mind.