Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A burn of pain. A sharp flame had melted the body he had grown up to hate. But with that pang of an ache, that flaring heat, came light; a bright one.

His eyes strained themselves to open, and were greeted by the likeness of a hospital ward. What? Didn’t he… die? He could’ve sworn as much. The moment his eyes greeted the ceiling he was struck with the excruciating pain his body was hiding.

Ping… Ping… Ping…

Some sort of continuous beep echoed the room he was in, presumably a heart rate monitor. How did he live? Why did he live? Was he not burned alive?

“Doctor! He’s up!” He overheard a woman say. Her figure was undefinable through his blurred vision.

“Ah, I see. May I please ask you to exit the room for the time being, Miss Akamatsu?” A male voice responded. Huh. Wait, Akamatsu? She died. As did he. What was going on?

The girl is eager to respond. “Of course, Doc! Please make sure his condition is stable like all the others!” Quiet followed, her mantra of footsteps filling his ears.

Cold. Someone’s cold hand tapped his forehead. He shivered, and their hand retracted.

“Good morning, Shinguuji.” The doctor said, sounding like he expected a response. He did not earn one.

The cold fingertips that the man had soon returned to his skin, feeling at his chest— soon allowing the knowledge to occur that he was, in fact, shirtless. Bandages seemed to be present in the absence of a top.

The doctor sighs. “Your skin is still adapting to the cool temperatures, huh.” He speaks carefreely; soon lifting his fingers off. “You may need to take some medicine now that you’re conscious,”

Finally, he feels as though words had been transferred to his throat. He stuttered; “W-What’s going on?”

“Ah… I forgot what Miss Shirogane told me about this… It will all be explained in due time, Korekiyo Shinguuji.” The doctor earns a sceptical look. “Oh, I suppose I didn’t need to refer to you by your full name, did I?”

Korekiyo blinks, before the pain his body was withholding became unbearable to the point he couldn’t disregard it any further. He let out a whimper.

“Here.” Outstretching his hand, the doctor had a pill in his palm; offering it to Korekiyo.

He looked at the tablet, and then up at the doctor distrustfully. He was scared, truth be told, but more confused than anything else. What was happening? Was this the afterlife? The doctor mentioned Shirogane? Who’s alive?

The doctor’s hand kept working it’s way towards Shinguuji, eventually he succumbed to the pain and placed the pill in his mouth.

“Well done,” He was congratulated, the doctor bearing a smile (though, hard to make out through his blurred vision).

It then struck him, was he even wearing his mask?! His hand immediately rushed to his lower face, tapping at his lips aggressively. Touching the bare flesh made his pupils dilate and his breathing hitch.

The doctor glanced over. “Mister Shinguuji? Are you alright?”

“My… Mask…?” Korekiyo mumbled, his hand muffling his words as if they weren’t already soft enough.

“Oh, you were the one always wearing a mask. Don’t worry, I am not focusing on that, and only I have seen you without it!” The doctor sounded awfully gleeful despite the distress of his patient.

“Akamatsu?”

“Hm, the girl here earlier? The covers on your bed covered your lips at least.” He explained.
“She wouldn’t have seen much, and she barely looked past your eyes,”

He gawked, hidden by his own hand.

“You needn’t worry about that right now.” The doctor continues. “Please, now that you are cognizant of your situation, rate the pain you’re experiencing on a scale,”

Korekiyo pauses to think. It’s the most physical pain he’s ever experienced, and he still can’t figure out how he’s alive. “10.”

“I presume that is out of 10, yes?”

“Indeed.”

“Despite being in such pain you’re putting up quite a reputation with lengthy words, huh.”

“It is my manner of speaking, situation irrelevant,” Korekiyo says, interrupting himself with coughs.

“I would recommend for the time being that you limit your word count,” The doctor scolds, glaring at the coughing Korekiyo. “Well, I suppose I should move on to more important matters.”

His hand reaches for Shinguuji’s. The patient raises an eyebrow.

A sigh. “Take my hand, I need to test your physical capabilities,”

“Oh,” With that, his own hand made its way to the doctor’s. Korekiyo gripped it like his life depended on it (though, figuratively speaking, it probably did).

He slid out of the bed, now noting he was wearing pale blue pants. He wondered if it was a substitute for the typical hospital gown he presumed that medical patients were opposed to wearing when staying in a hospital. It made him curious why he wore nothing but bandages on his top half.

Standing? Difficult to say the least. The moment Korekiyo’s two feet met the ground, he stumbled into the doctor’s chest. He thought about whether that was considered a romantic response or a dramatic response to the inability to stand, though the process of thinking about it made him mildly uncomfortable.

“Considering your inability to stand, walking is probably close to impossible,” The doctor notes. “But I need you to try nonetheless.”

With a weak sigh, Shinguuji pushed himself out of the doctor’s embrace, and tried to take a step forward. Whatever he was expecting was true, he couldn’t even get a step ahead because his body trembled and plummeted towards the floor.

The doctor caught him before any further damage occurred. Korekiyo wondered if this was a typical reaction, or if maybe the doctor was scared of getting in trouble for furthermore injuries towards a patient. Akamatsu did specify to be careful like he was with the others. He wondered who the others were. If maybe the doctor was implying that he was going to treat Shinguuji differently for whatever reason. Perhaps, Korekiyo pondered, he was overthinking.

“Earth to Shinguuji?” The doctor snaps him out of his head. “Ah, there you are.”

Before he can even reevaluate the situation, he was nudged back onto the bed he was lying in previously. The doctor hums as he scribbles on a notepad. Korekiyo blankly stares at him, almost mesmerised.

“Rest.” He speaks up once more, startling the half-conscious Shinguuji once again. “You’ll need it, especially if you’re in pain.”

He decides it was best not to argue against or decline the medical professionals advice, so he quickly lies down. The ceiling was bright, though it didn’t stop him from quickly entering a slumber.

Perhaps tomorrow he will feel better. And be less confused.

Chapter Text

“How’s he holding up?” Korekiyo heard someone whisper.

The doctor offers an… oddly annoyed tone to whoever spoke. “Somewhat better. This is your fourth visit, would you mind not coming in for a while?”

“You have something against me, but not Akamatsu?” The person seems to still keep a relaxed tone despite the doctor's obvious annoyance.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” He hears the doctor sigh. “It is just that he has woken up, and I think now I need to limit visitors; starting with you.”

A chuckle. “Thanks for clearing it up, Doc. Seeya, thank you.”

He hears footsteps, and before long it’s silent again. Shinguuji wants to open his eyes, and yet he also doesn’t. Though, it hardly mattered.

“You’re up?”

Forcing his eyes to greet the bright room once more, Korekiyo mumbles a reply. “Mhm,”

“Well, I suspect it’s about time for you to change into proper etiquette and go to the dining hall.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, you won’t be walking. I have a wheelchair prepared. I just need to remove you from the IV drip and you’re good to go,” The doctor clears up. “Don’t worry, you can wear your mask, and I’ll be pushing the chair.”

Korekiyo weakly nods, and sits up. Probably, far too quickly. His hand rushes to his forehead in a pang of pain; he groans.

“Wouldn’t recommend doing that again,” He earns as a remark from the doctor.

It took a few moments but eventually Korekiyo was up on his feet, supported by the doctor, and getting changed. The very gown he was conspiring about the previous day slipped down his body, covering 70% of his body. He glanced at his bare legs, now learning they were covered in bandages and skin grafts. It was now that he began spiralling into the concept of his survival. It was evident that some sort of burning action must have occurred, and yet he was alive.

The doctor snaps him back to reality once again (honestly, he was considering thanking the doctor for everything at this point). He puts on a medical mask (unsure of where his typical one ended up, he just took what the doctor handed him), making sure not to leave any part of his lower face visible.

“Sit.” The instruction was delivered as if Shinguuji was nothing but a hound dog. And yet, even if he could speak more than a few words, he wouldn’t have commented on that in a million years.

He sat down in the wheelchair, feeling suddenly ashamed of how weak he was being portrayed in this situation. Was he not able-bodied? Though, previously he was? Is he even alive? Who else was alive? He heard mention of Akamatsu, who had died weeks before Korekiyo did. Shirogane had also been brought up, before his execution she was alive and well. However, he can’t speak for what happened after what he assumed was his death. Honestly, too much was going through his mind for him to even note whether or not the doctor was speaking.

He came back to his senses when the wheelchair began to move. Now he was filled with fear and worry. Perhaps, if the survival of Akamatsu and himself was plausible, the other victims of the killing game were alive. That would mean Shinguuji would encounter the two girls he murdered during the event. Chabashira and Yonaga. Rest assured, he would rather die than face them— especially when he is as weak as he is right now.

“Are you still in there?” The doctor asks, and Korekiyo is once again taken out of his silent haze.

“Apologies,”

“We’re nearly there.” A shiver. “Though I have other patients to warden right now, so I will go inside first and ask someone to take over from me, any preferences?”

Oh. It wasn’t like it wasn’t okay, he was just scared of everyone right now. He barely had any companions during the killing game, and after revealing such a psychotic and disgusting persona of himself, he feared not a single person was willing to see him alive. Though, Akamatsu had visited him the day he awoke, and that other guy who had supposedly visited him the most was a probability for someone who didn’t despise him— the only problem there is he had no clue who that could’ve been. It was tricky to pin a name to the voice he heard this morning.

“Akamatsu.”

“Very well then. I’ll be leaving you here, and asking her to come right out!” The doctor nods enthusiastically, which seems uncharacteristic of him, but who is Korekiyo to judge? He’d known the doctor for less than 2 days, there was no way he could pin a personality to him.

As soon as he finished talking, he let go of the wheelchair handles, and walked quickly (yet he wasn’t running, there was still a natural stroll-like elegance to his stride) towards what Shinguuji assumed was the dining hall. He wondered what Akamatsu would say.

He wondered if this was what sister felt. She was bedridden— ill. Perhaps if she lived longer he would be the one at the handles of her wheelchair.

“Shinguuji-kun?” A girl’s voice. Some buttons click in Korekiyo’s head.

He stutters; “A-Akamatsu?”

“Hi! How are you?”

“…Confused,”

She giggles. “Didn’t expect anything less. How’s the pain?”

Shinguuji shrugs. It hurt a lot, he couldn’t tell what was injured or what just chronically hurt from the experience. Being burned alive was his death, and yet he survived? He had no idea how to speculate his survival, let alone what part of his body hurt.

“Well whatever,” The blonde smiles, her hands gripping the handles of the chair. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“…I suppose,” He says softly. Suddenly, he’s scared to eat. Scared to recover. Why? He just woke up from his death, but now he’s scared to be alive? What would Chabashira and Yonaga say? Are they here too? Should he ask Akamatsu? Would she judge him? She killed Amami, didn’t she? How did she feel when she woke up and was greeted by her own victim?

“Don’t worry,” Akamatsu speaks up like she read Korekiyo’s mind. “Yonaga and Chabashira aren’t here today, you don’t have to stress!”

“How did you—“

“You looked worried and lost. That’s how I felt when I woke up,” He now realised he was being pushed toward the dining hall again. “Amami was in the dining hall for me, but he forgave me. We’re friends again. I hope you can do the same with Yonaga and Chabashira, but I asked them to eat in their rooms while they wait for you to heal up!”

“And they… agreed?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

She frowns, though he only gets that from the tone of her voice saddening. “It’s fine. I’m sure at the very least Angie forgives you,” The first name usage makes him more comfortable somehow, he couldn’t pinpoint why. “Tenko’s difficult, even after waking up she was still favouring women: even asked for a girl doctor!”

Maybe some humour wasn’t so bad. Shinguuji chuckles.

“The dining hall’s right there!” She says, enthusiasm returning to her voice. “Amami and Tojo are inside this morning,”

“Are we all alive?”

“Mhm! How? No clue! The doctors say they’ll explain when the game is over… so presumably once there are two people left— minus the mastermind!”

“Do we know who the mastermind is?”

“I don’t. Yonaga mentioned that a name came up, someone starting with an S, but she couldn’t tell who the doctor was referring to because he said it quietly to another worker,”

Shirogane. He remembered the doctor saying her name with confidence the moment he woke up confused. Did that mean she was behind the killing game? Should he tell Akamatsu— and the aforementioned others?

“Hm.”

“We’re here! Wait so… can you not walk at all?” She asks like it finally hit her that he was in a wheelchair.

“No.” He states blandly. “I can… barely stand. Or talk.” Like he called it, another fit of coughs hit him.

“Ah! Sorry for asking then!” Akamatsu immediately has worry in her voice. She pushes him inside the building (dining hall, though Korekiyo could only confirm that when he looked at the room).

Just like she said, Tojo and Amami sat at one table, both drinking a mug of… something. Presumably coffee or tea. He wondered what time it was if they had already eaten. Next to them was a bowl of unfinished cereal; Akamatsu’s, he guessed.

“Shinguuji!” Amami is the first to exclaim, waving.

He waves at the green-haired boy. Tojo smiles at him. He notices that she, too, is seated in a wheelchair— it causes him to remember her execution, and it wasn’t a pleasant recollection. Korekiyo feels bad.

Amami gets up, leaves his cup on the table, and rushes over. When did he care so much? “How are you? What hurts? How much do you know? Can you talk—”

“Amami!” Akamatsu says abruptly, letting out a soft chuckle. “Calm down! He can’t say too much at the moment, or he’ll start coughing— learned that the hard way. So slow down on the questions, plus, he’s here, so he’s doing better than before, right?”

“Sorry,” His calm persona returns. “I got a bit carried away. I’ll ask simply. How are you, mentally, Kiyo?”

His nickname. For some reason he forgot, because Akamatsu didn’t say it. Shinguuji feels a light blush warm his cheeks, wait what? No. All Amami said was the nickname that he made for himself. There was nothing romantic about it. That was normal human decency— using people’s preferred names.

“Decent,” Korekiyo replies, trying to keep his composure. However, his reply is far from true.

“That’s good to hear!” Amami claps his hands together, a gentle smile on his face. It hits Korekiyo how cute he is— Stop. Shut up. That’s irrelevant.

Wait. Was Amami the one who visited him often? Hoshi’s voice is deep, and admittedly recognisable; plus Shinguuji was sure they had never interacted with each other one-on-one. Amami, on the other hand, had numerous individual conversations with Korekiyo before his demise. Plus, he could easily rule out any of the girls, for he was certain the voice was of male descent. (Bonus points for the fact that half of the girls were his own victims, which he would find hard to believe had visited him.)

He nods, realising how he must’ve been silent for a decent amount of time.

“Kiyo,” Tojo begins, her voice different; shaky, and distorted. He wonders if her execution damaged her vocal cords badly like he burned his voice box during his. “Would you like to eat with u-us?”

Food. He hadn’t had to think about that since his… revival? Waking. Whilst held by Monokuma, his food choices were slim but relevant, though now guilt washed him. His burnt throat– perhaps solid food might be bad? Would they question him if he said something medical?

“I will s-sit.” He curses himself internally for stuttering. “But I do… n-not have the c-c.. capacity to eat at the moment,”

She nods, slowly. Her neck must hurt too. He feels bad for feeling so weak and disabled when her execution was more brutal than his own; perhaps his body was being selfish. For that, he wouldn’t forgive himself.

Akamatsu wheels him to the table, and she dances back to a seat of her own. Amami is seated on his left, whilst Tojo (followed by Akamatsu) were on his right. He felt comfortable, but he was chilled. Reasonably so– perhaps hell itself opened for him in particular.

Chabashira walked in: His second victim, perhaps his more dangerous. She always had an unfiltered disapproval of men in general, and was ‘killed’ by him– a man. He almost cried. He held his breath the moment the door swung open.

“Is Shinguuji still–” The moment she stepped in, her raw voice echoed into his ears, and Korekiyo nearly choked. Chabashira glanced at the group of people before sucking in her breath. “O-Oh..--”

“C-Chabashira!” Amami said, startled.

“It’s fine– I’ll be... Um! Leaving!” She nodded fervently, despite her mood, and began to step backward. “Bye! Uh– See you sometime, Shinguuji!” Chabashira was gone.

He blinked as if his life flashed by at an unrecognisable speed.

“You understand why she’s being… um.. difficult, righ—” Akamatsu begins, before turning her head to see the rather lost Shinguuji. “K-Kiyo?”

He wondered how Chabashira felt when she woke up, a stab wound being her fatal injury. Did it hurt as much as the burning of his body? Surely it had to have at least hurt a similar amount, at the very least emotionally.

“Kiyo..!”

What if she never found out he was her killer, how much more guilty would he feel after seeing her? Did it take Amami and Akamatsu a while to work out things? What about Tojo and Hoshi? Would Chabashira— along with Yonaga— ever forgive him?

“Kiyo!!” He feels his eyes snap wide: like he just woke up from a nightmare.

He gently swirled his head side to side to figure out who yelled, and all 3 of his companions looked at him with a soft concern. “H-Hm..?” Korekiyo mumbled, his gaze softening.

“Are you okay?” Amami broke the few seconds of silence, gently reaching out a hand to touch Shinguuji.

He flinched. Why did he flinch? He didn’t need to flinch. They could touch him. He likes touch. But he couldn’t figure out why the idea of touch burned right now– he just couldn’t. Amami’s fingers were soft, but they landed on his shoulder and soon turned to flame.

Amami quickly retracted his wrist, surprisingly understandably. “Sorry, I should’ve asked,”

“Kiyo…” Tojo croaks, gently leaning into his point of view. “D-Do we need to... Call out your doctor…? For– (cough).. You?”’

He shakes his head, but deep down he knows they’ll do it anyway. Korekiyo doesn’t want to be weak. He’s showing his true colours, to people who shouldn’t have ever cared about him. His predictions reveal themselves as fact when he sees Akamatsu jump up and run out– presumably yelling. As she dashes off, he notices the faint rope burns on her neck. Her execution was brutal too, he’s surprised her obvious injuries only consist of the burn, a broken arm, and the (presumably) bruises and cuts that are covered by… oddly in-character bandaids of a variety of fictional themes.

The next few minutes were a blur. Shinguuji was ashamed to know he was this weak– he lost all composure over the mere sight of a girl… Well if he puts it that way it sounds a lot more pathetic than a girl he killed, but she wasn’t even close to a jerk to him– and that’s saying a lot by her standards toward men. Chabashira hated men, and presumably still does. If she fears Korekiyo, he’s more disgusted with himself than if she was mad. He was wheeled away by the doctor, and before his vision lost all its sense he could make out the three worried figures of his… friends? Did he need their permission for that label? He had never made friends properly– it was inconsiderate and insulting for him to have friends when his sister was alive (she deserved all of his attention, why would he betray her for kids his age?), and only Amami hung out with him enough during the killing game for him to even consider the idea of friendship scarcely. Friends were never something he knew, he didn’t know whether he was in their bubble of worth to grace them to be his companions.

Regardless of his irrelevant spiral, he only snapped back to reality when he was returned to the hospital-akin room he awoke in. It wasn’t the best conditions. The doctor– he has yet to learn the name of the medical practitioner– held a needle to his shoulder, soon prodding it into his flesh. It hurt– though he didn’t dare to even stumble a noise.

“W-What?” He stuttered, again cursing his indecorous speech.

The doctor grinned, soft but eerily. “A vaccine, don’t worry. Its relevance to today is close to zero– I just thought it might help you wake up, and I may as well kill two birds with one stone,”

He also killed two things, almost at once. … Maybe he should stop thinking.

Shinguuji nodded to indicate he heard the doctor, whose eyes rested on Kiyo’s own. He raised an eyebrow at the medic.

“My apologies for staring,” He shivered, it felt like the doctor was trying to copy his speech patterns. “I got a bit mesmerised,”

The words flowed off of his tongue like nothing, but Korekiyo felt so lost in his words. Nobody says that. Do people say that? Would he know?

“Anyway, what did you eat this morning?”

Korekiyo recollects his earlier thoughts on the subject and worries about what a medical worker’s opinion on his degrading approach would be.

“Cereal.” He mumbles, making sure to not speak with too much or too little power.

The doctor nods. Did he believe that? Shinguuji couldn’t tell why that made his heart flutter softly in relief.

“It’s about noon now, are you hungry again?” It’s midday?

“No, I only just– (cough) finished breakfast,” He gags out, trying to prevent a single sutter escaping his lips– ah. The mask is gone, again.

Another nod. What a blunt conversation.

“You disassociated earlier, or so your classmates have me believe,” Classmates. Korekiyo now realises that must be the safest term to refer to any of his acquaintances here– ‘friends’ doesn't even skim the description. “I’d recommend you get some sleep now, ya feel me?”

What kind of doctor did he get stuck with, exactly? The dumbest? The worst? The least useful? Whatever one he picked would loosely describe this man from head to toe– combining the lot would be a spot-on bio for him.

With a nod of his own, Korekiyo reaches for the bed, climbing in comfortably (he was still in the wheelchair, regrettably. It reminded him further of how weak he felt) and laying against the cold pillow. The ceiling was dimmer than the previous times he stared up at it from this angle— perhaps there was a dimming function on these lights. Whatever company was paying for their medical treatments had an incredible income, for sure.

Before he could even begin to overthink, his eyes closed gently. The few hours he was awake were enough for drama-enthusiasts to fantasise over his witnesses and experiences. The scenarios replayed over and over, though he was distant from the reality of them this time. Shinguuji soon drifted to sleep– rather peacefully.