The detective knew that he needed to move, that he needed to peel his eyes away from the body that had been mashed in the hydraulic press yet, his feet were firmly frozen to the ground, partly glued and sticky with the blood that had gathered in a puddle around his feet, partly from his mangled hand and the other part was from Tsumugi's corpse. The liquids had mixed together, opposing each other in colour which was more than ironic.

There was a limit to the irony however, when the thought crossed his mind that they were both blood from murderers although the causes and reason were highly differing. Tsumugi had a high blood lust and it was chilling to know that she suppressed it to blend into the background. Did she see all the of 'her friends' as prey, like farmyard animals? Trapped in a cage of her own personal construction whilst seeing them squirm and writhe as the pressure and impending futures dawned on them.

If so, was she an abnormality or a common product of the so-called 'peaceful' outside world?

Shuichi was no doubt having these thoughts to prevent the heaving pain from his hand striking too deep. His body had switched onto autopilot as he wandered limply towards the academy courtyard, to let fresh air enter his lungs which would most hopefully calm his body down. Fingers were prodded subconsciously onto the control panel to close the shutter again; hiding his murderous deed behind enforced steel shutters.

Once he was out of the enclosed space where his victim lay, his trance shattered as if it were as frail as a slab of glass, killing the only part of his remaining self reassurance that had lasted this far. When his eyes adjusted to the area he had dragged himself to, he had to blink several times to understand, to process the differences. Instead of the natural landscape and colour scheme he was used to, the arena had been dyed with a tinted bloody hue and he wasn't able to distinguish whether it was his mind playing a trick on him to remind him of how blackened his soul now was, or if it was an actual physical change in the appearance.

Never had the academy been quite so silent. He forced himself to prick his ears up to pick up and trace of the other students, yet there was nothing. He couldn't be alone, no, no, the other students were alive, they were living, loving and breathing most importantly. The more he concentrated on trying to fish out for voices, the more an eerie static filled his ears.

Although he was most likely in a murder trance, many things were off that his mind couldn't have altered.

The academy looked, deserted. Shuichi pinched himself as hard as he could to try and drag himself out of his state of shock and denial, knowing that in a game such as Danganronpa, you can't ever stop going, you couldn't ever stop fighting as there's always a next crisis. He was the Ultimate Detective, for gods-sake and his mission, his purpose for returning to save everyone wasn't over yet; now he had to get them all out of the school one and for all. Then, he was sure that it would be over, he was begging to the fates that there wouldn't be any more surprises.

With a look of determination, he pushed his body forward, one foot in front of the other in a repetitive fashion until the pacing was done subconsciously. To think, what now? The mastermind was dead and the academy entering a Halloween aesthetic, but they must be related in some strand of a regard, since the correlations between them were simply too strong to overlook. As he walked onwards, his mind kept working at a higher proximity than ever before. Adrenaline was flooding his system and he wasn't allowing that biological boost up to be wasted on dwelling of the murder that he had wanted to commit since day one in the second simulation. Deep down he had always known that it would come to this, that it was near to impossible to beat Tsumugi at her own game, the only way to defeat her was to gift her with the murder and despair that she preached. When it came to murder in a setting like this one, a deathly aura surrounds you. It makes you do things and commit such atrocities that you would never go through with if you were anywhere else. The classrooms remind you of a place of learning, it drills into the mind of the Ultimates that they are here because they needed to be taught a lesson and that lesson, that lesson is inhumane slaughter.

As if by magic or another supernatural force, Shuichi approached the library and entered with careful, measured steps. It was hauntingly unusual for their to be no lights on anywhere, no candles or any source of illumination whatsoever. He scuffed his feet along the floor to navigate through the absent doorway, to search for an entrance to what felt like a maze. With his arms outstretched, he felt around and stumbled through the open doorway space, continuing forwards for the direction of the secret bookcase doorway.

"Hello?" The detective let out a plea.

There was silence before footsteps. In the darkness it was impossible to see who it was but at long as it was another person, all would be well. The steps echoed like they were in a chamber yet abruptly stopped, leaving the only sound to be a shallow intake and exhale of breath. Their breaths were being measured, coming out in a in, 1 2, out, 1 2 method, prepping itself for a stand off.

Shuichi took a moment to himself before speaking. It would all work out. "Who's there?"

Hinami_the_Toaster They drew this one and the one above it! Kaito's coat.. do da do I'm lovin' it. (not sponsored by McDonald's ;) Also the comic style is freaking adorable. Much appreciated! Not to forget that background, hell to the yes! I can't critique it. It's beautiful, well done. Comment and follow this amazing human bean.
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"Kaito." Uncharacteristic, the reply was. It was colder, less welcoming. There was no grande and slightly narcissistic introduction, 'Kaito Momota! Luminary of the stars!', instead there was cynicism and weariness glossing his tone.

"I ended it." Shuichi spoke with the same lacklustre and debilitated tone of voice.

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds... maybe it was minutes. Shuichi was rushed with a sudden dread, a fear that something wasn't right here. Kaito was inspirational, he tried too hard and got to wrong idea but he was never afraid to give a speech despite if he had an audience, only if there was one person in that room, he'd make them feel loved, in the classic Kaito way. He just had that nuanced charisma that no one could fake.

He didn't have to be the Ultimate Detective to notice that something was completely wrong. In his time, he'd developed a sixth sense for the matters of murder or death so to see Kaito with that complexion mirroring that of a spectre himself, murder was a certainty. His pupils had shrivelled, eyes become sunken deep into the back of his head; there were bags under his eyes which made him look similar to a shrunken head statue, they were hanging heavy on his face, out of place even. The skin he was wearing looked to be stretched over his skeleton tightly, as if all of his muscles had contracted at once in a fight reflex. Yet, that wasn't the most frightening part of the astronaut's complexion, no, that trophy had been taken by his posture. Kaito was disassociated from his own body which was rocking side to side, subconsciously making movements to prove that it wasn't an empty shelled cavity. His expression was frozen, one of disbelief, it looked like.

Shuichi cautiously began taking gradual shuffles towards the ajar door, swinging with taunting creaks as if embodied by  the laughs of deceased children; the types you see running riot in horror films. With a gentle motion, he swiped rightward with his hand, exposing the inside.

What he saw he wasn't prepared for.

Mixes, flashed of images hit him at full force, leaving him breathless and heaving at the sheer sight of the mutuality. Emotions blundered him like bullets firing from unknown sources. And like that, he was on his knees. Not much had brought him to his knees before, not accounting for the possible lewd ways.

His eyes scoured over the sight of puddles, footsteps, blotches and trails all forged in blood around a corpse. 'A corpse'? Who was he kidding, he recognised her simultaneously upon entering the room. After only one glance, he had studied the shape of the body, assessed the reasons why it had been left in the final resting place, why it hadn't been covered.

For him, was it?

Just like the game itself, this felt like a sick nightmare yet it no longer surprised him, simply made his realisations for how low, how disgusting humanity could be sink lower until there was so longer a scale to measure it against.

He walked closer one footstep at a time, the echoing mirroring a solider's march in remembrance. Blood stinks. It's metallic. Smells of iron. Something to do with haemoglobin or red blood cells, ha, science, not much use now. However, it stank, it was sickening. She must have bled out. Hopefully it was quick. Slow deaths are churning either way; innocent or guilty. Despite the party, it would be cruel. A slow death makes you worse than the most pathetic creature since it's clear you want them to suffer.

A small couple of footsteps came from behind him, but he didn't turn to see. He couldn't bare to not see the person he needed right now.

When the hand went around his waist and he breathed in that colourfully scented lavender smell, his breathing relaxed. A swift glance to the side and he was windswept, winded by relief. After so long he simply began crying. Now, he was safe in the arms of his panta obsessed loverboy.

_Kokichi_Ouma They way they've drawn Ouma's eyes nearly makes me want to stop with the angst all together. They're so cute and puppy-like ahh! You nailed the expressions and the poses, especially that sweet height difference! Follow them, comment your love!

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"Shush.. it'll be okay now~ don't get all sappy. Escape this hell hole with me first. Then, we'll talk about how you just went on a clusterfuck suicidal crusade."

"...I" Shuichi choked out between the sobs, a small smile on his face with the use of the word 'clusterfuck'.

"Idiot. Aren't I the one who's meant to be doing stupid stuff like that? It's like, my shtick. You better not be trying to replace me, neheh.."

Neither of them wanted to talk about Maki, not right now. None of them wanted to talk about death anymore. The same reason why Kokichi didn't mention Shuichi's bloody hand or why Shuichi didn't with Kokichi's blood coated uniform. Mentally, they needed to recover first however long that would take.

The detective paused for the longest moments, before exhaling a single breath and nodding. "It was my turn."

"Eh? Don't be all vague like that. Plus you gotta tell me why the academy looks like a literal hellscape, unless it's mood lighting.. just gotta say I'm not into BDSM. Welllllll, kinda, ish, I'm full of surprises!~ It'll be your reward for getting me off... this game!"

Kokichi must've had magic powers to make Shuichi smile and become flushed like he did.

"Just that.. it was my turn.. you don't know what you did the first time, the game. Your intentions were twisted become everyone else was suspicious, including me. I couldn't allow you to self sacrifice again, because maybe if I' had been more understanding or spent more free time with you, not been so quick to come upon a solution, you may not have done what you did. So it was my turn, my obligation." He tilted his head to the side a little, looking at his crapily bandaged hand.

No words could have been said to put Shuichi at ease. A small gesture was all it took. Kokichi took his hand, the bandaged one, and kissed it gently as a prince would've done to a princess in one of those bedtime story books. Their fairytale was a messy one, but it was most certainly unique.

The hug they shared afterwards was fuelled by a love they couldn't explain verbally. They gripped onto each-other to check if they were really there, squeezing each-other so tightly that they nearly ruptured each other's lungs and broke every bone in their rib cage. Small sobs were let pouring out by both parties, more by Shuichi, but neither of them questioned it a single bit.

Couldn't this be their end to the 53rd killing game? So pure, so neat?

No. Unfortunately not. Games aren't tied up with a happy ending a bow. They're messy, unruly. They have loose ends and moments that make you pause to process the reality. Shuichi had accomplished what he'd set out to do, and now he had to bring everyone back to where it all started, all those chapters ago.
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Sorry for being gone for so long! As a thanks for being so patient I made this chapter extra long! There gonna be 1 more chapter and then it's over! Ah!