Chapter Text
Of all the times you’ve seen the corners of his eyes wrinkle to show the smile his mask hid, a heaviness weighs your chest, realizing you’ve never seen Korekiyo look as happy as he did now.
Now that he’s dead and free.
He rose to the sky with open arms, shed of the bandages, the mask, all the layers that ensnared him bodily, and he was light and rising and...
He was so happy.
He was in bliss.
To see her as she swooped down to meet him.
The one he loved so much.
A sickened pang bit your heart to see their impending embrace.
Yet as shocked as you were to learn of their illicit bond, a weird part of you was just happy to see Korekiyo happy.
To finally see his smile.
Which had stretched into a scream.
Because she threw purifying salt onto his spirit until he dissolved and disappeared.
The full moon above the purple misty mountains fades away to the trial grounds closing in around you. Each execution is like being thrust into a feverish nightmare, and when it ends, you’re grounded again in the nightmare school you can’t wake up from.
Your eyes are wide yet dry, while Himiko is crying and spewing and snotting for the loss of Angie and Tenko.
You could cry, more than her even, not just because you lost them as well, but because no one else sees Korekiyo’s death as a loss. And you want to cry more that you still feel for him after what he’s done.
It’s not fair to make a competition of it, but by all means, your pain is greater. Himiko lost two. You lost three. But all you can focus on was the one.
The creepy one. The death-obsessed one. The tall, sinister one who disappointingly, with two kills on top of many past ones, proved all the rumors and whispers to be right. And you sense you’re the only one who faces loosing him with grief.
You felt...sick. Emotionally congested and nothing will come out or set in motion because you’re still stuck on him, what he’s done, who he was.
The trial has concluded. The blackened had been found and executed, every mystery solved. But this did not end cleanly for you. The trial lent to more questions that you want answers to, but the one who had them all is far beyond gone.
You needed to talk to him.
You sank into yourself. Himiko’s crying grew far and distant. Shuichi may have called out to you as you moved, but you left it all behind. The school blurred until you found yourself on the fourth floor, lingering by the three empty rooms. Korekiyo botched the Caged Child seance on purpose, but maybe if you did it right, then you could talk to him again.
That foolish spark of hope had you barging through the middle room’s door, just to see that, like the previous murders, the scene of Tenko’s death was scrubbed clean during the trial. Angie’s art studio must be spotless too. Everything for the ritual was cleared out, no traces of blood, salt, or even seesaws. You stomped the repaired floorboards in frustration and realized: how can you contact him when he’s been purified from existence?
Could you talk to her?
You wrenched open the door to Korekiyo’s lab. It wasn't until you stepped inside that you felt you could breathe easy, surrounded by his studies, his very essence. Eyes trailing up the many levels lined with artifacts and scrolls, you were more assured of your plan. The lab is well stocked, surely brimming with something you can use to conduct another seance.
Candles, salt, music, masks, blood, effigies.
Whatever it is you need, you’ll find it. You’ll arrange it.
Because you needed answers.
You just wanted to know.
“Would you like to speak to the dead?”
Though that line was so morbid and unexpected, you cracked a smile to hear Korekiyo say it, delighting in the peculiar things he says. It's not enough to say that Kirumi's cooking was delicious; he must proclaim that he could cut off his tongue from the ecstasy of it. He can't just call Gonta strong; he must paint the horrid image that the gentle entomologist could crush a baby's skull. He can't just start a conversation with hello; he must ask if you would like to speak to the dead.
"What a thing to say! Now, does that have anything to do with this puppy here, or are you just thinking your horrid thoughts out loud?"
He laughed that creepy choke of a laugh, "Kehehe, you'd be surprised. If you're curious, I could tell all about the dark arts this relic can perform."
"Please."
He had suddenly appeared beside you as you inspected the dog statue on an iron cage in his newly opened anthropology lab.
Among all the curios on display, this one gave off a strange energy that demanded your attention. Likewise, your piqued interest caught Korekiyo’s eye as you stood transfixed among your ambling classmates. Their gazes passed over everything with fleeting interest while you stayed put, studying the relic. With the Ultimate Anthropologist beside you, you anticipated one of his lectures.
You even anticipated that pose he fell into. He stuck out his finger, gesturing like a professor pointing out his teachings. “Using this statue and cage, you could conduct a ritual that will allow the deceased to speak through a spirit medium. Tell me, if you could talk to the dead, what would you say?”
You hummed, tilting your head at the dog in the glass display.
“I guess the usual questions that come to mind. Where are you? What’s it like there? How’s death? How’d it feel to die? But all that sounds so obvious it feels uninspired.” You brought a finger to your chin, pensive. “I’d need to give it some thought and think up something good.”
Korekiyo chuckled, “One must think things thoroughly, yes? You’d very well have something important to say, to disturb someone from their eternal slumber.”
You glanced over to him. Being so covered up, he could be hard to read. He didn't, or rather, couldn't show much emotion because he always wore a mask. He was armored by his uniform, from his cap, to his boots, to his hands wrapped in gauze. It looked almost stifling, but he's told you that his sister made it for him, so he treasured it dearly. The only part of him exposed was his golden eyes, peeking above the mask and cast in the shadow of the cap's brim. You stepped a little closer to him. It's only when you're close enough that you can catch the fleeting emotions that pass through that slim window of his uniform. For a second, you thought you saw sadness shining through.
“Have you talked to the dead before, Kiyo?”
“Yes. I have.” Given his interest in the occult, you expected that answer before he said it, a bittersweet waver in his voice.
“I bet it was some great historical figure.”
He shook his head. "Not quite, but I did speak to someone of the utmost importance. I spoke honestly, from the bottom of my heart, and was answered in earnest,” he said, crossing his arms over himself in a gesture you’ve come to think of as a hug—one hand on his shoulder, the other on his waist.
He tended to isolate himself to observe those around him, yet he never seemed lonely until he wrapped his arms around himself. Sometimes you wanted to be the one to fill his empty arms and hug him in turn.
You pushed down that thought. Can you feel so strongly for someone you've met not even two weeks ago?
Instead, you said, “You’re always so eloquent. If it came down to it...I think I’d panic and trip over my words. I mean, it shouldn’t be possible for the living to talk to the dead. Something about it seems taboo.”
“Hmm, yes, apprehension is understandable. But you mustn’t lose composure.” He straightened up. “As long as you are honest with yourself and the one you're contacting, then everything you say will have beauty. Whether you’re at your lowest, or making a declaration of love!”
Korekiyo held out his hands and raised his arms, throwing his head back in such an eraptured pose that you snorted from the theatrics of it all.
“A love confession for the dead!" You tittered. "Sounds more like a tragedy than a romance!”
“But it would be beautiful, would it not?” He glanced at you, eyes shining with such passion that you were nearly inclined to agree. “As long as it’s done with honest intention. One must contact the dead only at the most appropriate time. Only then.”
Now.
You needed to do this while it’s all still fresh in your mind. While the post-trial shock still electrified you. While his screams still echoed in your head. While Korekiyo is not yet a forgotten thought.
Every second is another moment Korekiyo has less presence in this world. Every failed seance, he slipped further away.
You needed to hold on to him. Preserve him. Remember him. Because if you don’t, who else will?
Crouched to the ground, setting up another attempt among your failures, you clung to the futile hope that this one would work.
You sat amid salt circles and chalk sigils, towering book stacks and flickering candles that only got shorter.
In one arm, you cradled an old thick tome to study its symbols, your other arm sweeping out, pouring salt in a precise arc. Once you completed the circle, you knelt in the middle, closed your eyes to concentrate on the face of whom you wanted to contact, and whispered the enchanted words as the book instructed.
You waited.
Hunched over, eyes squeezed tight, almost as if you were praying, you waited.
Then, a gust ebbed into the room and hushed the flames into twisting smoke streams.
Your eyes shot open, sensing a new, chilling presence in the room burning a hot spot of attention onto your back.
You swallowed hard. You couldn’t move. Staring at the ground, you couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear to face her.
The ghost who haunted Korekiyo's thoughts. His heart.
The ghost who gleefully threw salt over her little brother's spirit until it vanished in a puff of smoke.
Is she still smiling?
Her lips widen through your mind.
Anger widened through your chest, and it blurted out as a strangled, "Why?"
And then you yelled it, "Why?!"
"Why did you do it? Why did you exorcise him? He was so happy to see you! He loved you so much! And you-!" You choked on your rush of questions, remembering how Korekiyo's spirit melted away in agony. "Do you even care? Did you ever feel a shred of love for him?"
Silence.
"For how long were you two involved? When did it all start? How old are you? How old was he when you two-.” You couldn’t finish the thought out loud. It hurt to contemplate. Korekiyo's imitation of her called you all ignorant children, like she was wiser and more mature. Like she knew better.
"He is...Korekiyo was who he was because of you. Became an anthropologist- the ultimate anthropologist- because of you. And you just...erased him. So readily. So happily."
More silence.
"Can you say something?!" You grabbed a handful of salt and flung it in a blind direction.
An awkward squawk answered.
Heart thundering, you finally turned your head, only to see Shuichi standing by the lab entrance, his shoes salted. He was frozen, taking in the upended state of the anthropology lab until his grey eyes landed on you, the epicenter of it all. He regarded you as if you were fragile. Like if he moved or spoke too suddenly, you'd either fall apart or explode.
You stared at each other for a moment until you turned to the circle again with a huff, taking the salt vial to fill the gap you had made.
“You ruined the seance,” you chastised Shuichi. “I actually thought I did it right this time.”
After a beat, he ambled around the clutter. Statuettes you prayed to pulled off their shelves. Masks you pried off the walls because a scroll claimed that wearing them could connect you with the realm of the dead. Eventually, his approaching footsteps became careful tiptoes through the sigil around you. Though destroyed in your rage, Shuichi still took care not to disturb it.
“I think we’ve done enough seances for now.” Leaning beside you, his hand touched your trembling one, asking for the salt. When you didn’t clutch it tighter, he pulled it away and set it down. “Who were you talking to anyway?”
“Korekiyo’s sister," your voice dropped to a whisper. "At least, I was hoping to talk to her.” Your mouth twisted into a tight frown, the futility of it all setting in when you realized you didn’t even know her name. “I want answers. I want to know why.”
"Why?" Shuichi echoed, bewilderred.
“Why did she do it?!" You yelled again. "He loved her so much, and he thought so highly of her. Revered her. Idolized her.”
Korekiyo always spoke fondly of her, and what her ghost did warped the image you had of her.
When Korekiyo pulled down his mask and revealed that split persona, speaking to himself as if to calm his stress, was it comforting? Calming his nerves so he’d be level-headed enough to win the trial? Or was it controlling, speaking in commands by telling him how to act?
She had made his uniform. Was it a sweet gesture or was it dictating his appearance?
She pushed him to study anthropology, not unheard of for an older relative to expect you to give it your all. Was it encouraging, with his best interest in mind? Or was it forcing the subject onto him?
The one you truly wished to question was far beyond gone, so you had to settle for second best, and so far, she isn’t responding. There’s so much you don’t know. You could only draw conclusions and ritual circles to fill in the gaps.
“For her to do that without hesitation, with a smile on her face. Did she ever care about him at all? Did she not love him?” You looked up to Shuichi. You don’t know if he or anyone, for that matter, had the answer. You just wanted to ask out loud because it felt like no one else would.
Shuichi scratched his cheek. "Well, don't forget Korekiyo killed a lot of people for her. She could've been expressing her displeasure in that."
"You think that's why? Was him getting boiled alive not enough? I get that he's done some awful things, but-" Your throat tightened. "I just need to talk to her."
Before you could grab the salt again, Shuichi took your hand, urging you to follow him out of the circle. The salt scattered under your shuffling feet. It’s not as if it’s been helping you anyway.
He led you to a staircase to sit with him on the bottom step.
“It was all so surreal,” he said. “The executions feel so disconnected from reality. Like a bad dream. To see his spirit emerge from the pot. For his sister to descend from above. And on top of that, Monokuma appears dressed as a ceremonial priest! Did he recruit her to participate in his execution? How did he go about that?”
You blinked, mulling over these details you hadn’t considered. “That is weird. How?”
“I doubt he’d tell if you asked.”
You huffed. “But why bring that up?”
Shuichi gave a gentle smile. “As a detective, I guess I overanalyze things, looking for the truth.” He touched a finger to his chin in thought. “How did a robot bear convince a ghost to exorcise her brother?”
Letting such a preposterous notion hang in the air, you closed your eyes, tired. “How did a robot bear commune with the dead?” You repeated it yourself, and it sounded laughable.
“Korekiyo also said that his sister is always with him, living inside him as a ghost,” Shuichi continued, falling into that well-thought cadence as he laid out his findings. “If that’s true, would he not be tipped off if Monokuma had colluded with his sister to exorcise him once he died?”
Saying it out loud. It sounds so ridiculous.
“And another thing, if ghosts melt when exposed to salt, how come his sister didn’t melt when she threw it?”
This is all so ridiculous.
“What if...that wasn’t Korekiyo’s sister and just some trick? What if that wasn’t even Korekiyo’s spirit we saw and it was all an illusion to bring us despair? As if to say that even in death, we’ll only know despair.”
“All just a trick,” you muttered.
“It's a possibility,” Shuichi offered. “All the executions are awful tricks that don't make sense. That giant piano. That angry mob that chased Kirumi when we’re the only people here. The ghosts flying across the sky." Ridiculous. "Where do the executions take place? How are they prepared? They’re always such a spectacle! They’re over-the-top shows meant to bring us despair. As crazy as they are...I wouldn’t put too much thought into it.”
Shuichi’s hand is on your shoulder as if to squeeze some hope into you, but you do not unravel. It falls away as you close up, crossing your arms across your lap.
“But still, even if that was all some trick, what about what Korekiyo said? What does he mean his older sister was his lover? Did she really love him that way? Was- was it even real love at all?”
“Why are you so concerned about whether or not she loved him?” Shuichi asked. “She shouldn’t have loved him at all. Well, in that sense anyway.”
Your lips pressed tight, wondering how to word this. “I don’t condone what they had. It’s all so messed up. But…would it have been better if she truly loved him, and that ghost we saw was just a fake made to torture him?” Then you scoffed, rubbing a hand down your face. “What am I saying? I- I don’t know. I just want to know if- if Korekiyo was ever loved without ulterior motives! Loved without deceit! Loved without being taken advantage of! He never mentioned any parents or family other than his sister. Was what they had the only love he knew? That's so awful!"
Shuichi stared at you for an analyzing moment.
“Pardon me if this is forward, but didn’t you love Korekiyo?”
Immediately, your mouth fell open to refute, like shooting down a lie during class trials. You’re wrong! Instead, you stuttered. Words and feelings clogged your throat like a jammed gun.
“I- We-” Your face warmed as you stammered, recalling the short but potent time you knew him, and Shuichi stammered in turn, feeling as if he’d made a miscalculated blunder.
His hands flew up in defense. “I- I mean I just figured! You spent a lot of time together. You were always talking about something or other. When he went into one of his lectures, you actually listened and took part in his discussions." With a sheepish smile, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll admit, I was kind of scared of him! But...you weren't. You made an effort to get to know him. Seeing such a mysterious guy be so open, it honestly made him seem less scary. That’s just the conclusion I came to. I could be totally wrong; I don’t mean to assume!”
You shut your mouth in acceptance when he listed off his reasons. How can you argue with the Ultimate Detective?
You gravitated to each other. If you weren't sliding up to Korekiyo's side to see what book he was reading, he was peering over your shoulder, asking if you'd like to join him. He had so much to share and teach, and you reveled in it, matching his musings with your own.
You sighed. “I knew him so briefly. Could you even call us friends with how short we knew each other? Even so...I enjoyed getting to know him. You’re right, he looked scary. His eyes were so striking above that mask. He was so concealed. Seemingly unapproachable.” You clasped your hands together. “But he was so open, really. Open-minded. And talkative; he spared no details! He could go on and on and on. A lecture for everything. Cause humanity’s beauty is everywhere. Even his death, I’m sure he’d find beauty in it.”
Despite the despair, your lips twitched into a smile, and you pointed a finger in that scholarly stance Korekiyo favored when he started lecturing.
“You know, Shuichi,” you took on his cool, cryptic inflection, “the reverse shrimp tie was used in ancient Japan for torture. That I was fortunate enough to take part in such a culturally rich experience!” You closed your eyes and raised your hands, enlightened, ascending. “How beautiful!”
“You even sound like him,” Shuichi chuckled. “He hasn’t possessed you, has he?”
“Oh Korekiyo, if you’re out there somewhere, please, inhabit me!” You stood and raised your arms higher, wanting to be light. To be free. To rise and rise and to be open so that Korekiyo could swoop down to meet and merge with you.
But Shuichi grabbed your hand to ground you from another flight of fancy and led you to sit beside him again. “This is how we got into this mess. It’s how Korekiyo became who he was. He couldn’t accept death, and he ultimately suffered from it. Learn from him by not doing as he did.”
Shuichi glanced at your failed seances, spread out on the lab’s bottom floor, the mess of your loneliness. All the melted candles and chalk worn to nubs, all the crooked sigils drawn by your trembling hands. The desperation to turn to the dead cause it felt like the living wouldn’t understand. You envisioned Korekiyo doing the same when she died; he did say no one else understood him more. And then you thought of where that led him now, betrayed and evaporated with a body count of nearly 100 innocent girls as his legacy.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I came to give you this.” Shuichi pulled out a dark cloth from his pocket and handed it to you. Korekiyo’s mask. The zipper smiled at you.
He reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a silver music note. It should’ve been clipped in blonde hair.
“Korekiyo never got to process his grief, and the loneliness manifested in destructive ways.” Shuichi's hand was on your shoulder again, and you let the warmth of it seep into you. He looked you in the eyes and pleaded, “Please. Don’t ignore those living beside you. If you need to process your feelings, I’m here. We’re all here.”
Korekiyo had said there's an appropriate time to contact the dead. You really thought that time had come, but maybe such a time doesn't exist. Instead of agonizing over the unresponsive dead to obsession, you talked to the friend you have beside you.
“Why do I feel this way?" A painful swell wavered your voice as you let the hurt work its way through. "He killed our friends. He killed so many without remorse! After everything he’s said and done, is it wrong that I still feel for him?” The mask twisted as your hands curled into tight fists. “Is it wrong that in the end, I still love him? I never told him!”
“Korekiyo was awfully perceptive. Always observing. I’m sure he knew even without you saying so,” Shuichi assured.
“You think so?”
“Whether that was his sister and she betrayed him. Or some fake of Monokuma’s to give Korekiyo despair. Or if it was all fake to give us despair. At least you truly loved him. Take solace in knowing he was loved by someone who never betrayed him, however short your time together was.”
You ran your thumb over the mask’s zipper and thought of all the smiles Korekiyo hid under it. All the turmoil and secrets he kept bottled within that all-encompassing uniform she made. And you thought of that single weak spot in the armor where you could see the passing emotions in Korekiyo’s eyes. You counted yourself lucky to have seen it at all, the genuine parts of him that managed to shine through.
Finally, the dam broke, and you cried your heart out on Shuichi’s shoulder. Your classmates cried for Angie and Tenko, rightfully so. You cried for them as well. But you also wailed long and loud for Korekiyo so he could hear you beyond the nothingness of death. So he would know that someone cried for him because they loved him.