rat ga shinda ;

indie, selective, and private rp blog for saihara shuuichi of new danganronpa v3: killing harmony. not ndrv3 spoiler free / headcanon heavy. written by kani. please read rules before interacting.

[tanteiish]

suffering from school and lack of muse ( so apologies for the absence ), but have a nifty theme change in the meanwhile!

[tanteiish]

A labor of love... or so it went.

Saihara never quite got the phrase. Heard it a few times, in context and out, ironically and unironically; as it goes, it wasn’t one he ever used himself, never fiddled with, finding them almost a little cheesy, never having been in a relationship before to warrant such a need, to spur an action that could be described as ‘a labor of love’.

And yet...

Even now, he’s not sure how he’s managed these. Managed this.

He’s exhausted, his stomach aches ( the idea of throwing out all the failures felt wasteful, and so he’d eaten the first batches, nibbled on the next few, and threw out the rest once he felt like hurling ), but he has a neat, ribbon-tied box filled with an assortment of chocolates, all completely handmade.

Truly-- one... labor of love.

... Jesus Christ, he feels so fucking cheesy.

But-- well, he’s... doing this. He’d almost call it impulsive, but-- impulse tended to go for things that happened suddenly, right? Mistakes, stumbled into abruptly, like a fall into a puddle.

This was more like a fall down stairs. A fall taking hours. Impulsively coming up with the idea just a week ago, impulsively combing the kitchen for supplies, impulsively asking his classmates for advice, impulsively mustering up the courage to ask the nurses and doctors for additional help and supplies, impulsively sneaking to the kitchen at ten in the evening, impulsively staying and discarding dozens of mistakes before finally making the perfect chocolates at one in the morning...

He’s exhausted, but... he feels more accomplished, than anything. Excited, even. That he’s managed this, a-and... for him...

His only concern now, really, is that he hopes he likes it.

“Ah... I have something for you.”

He tugs his hand into his, uncurls his fingers and presses the box into his palm, taking his other hand and cupping it carefully over the box before lifting his eyes and giving him a small smile.

“...happy Valentine’s Day, Ouma-kun.”

@usodanee

[tanteiish]

usodanee:

Why did he hold onto him now? Why, after everything he said, was he still holding onto him? He wanted to die. Ouma wanted to die. They both did so… why was he upset when Ouma threatened to leave him? What was it, Saihara-chan, that made you look so scared?  Ouma swallowed, as Saihara-chan teared up yet again. Shaking his head and desperately trying to crawl into his arms. Fighting for him to stay so desperately, with the last bits of his strength. Was he really worth that much? Then why was he keep saying these things? Keep saying he wasn’t worth anything? What did Ouma have to say to him to get through his thick skull? That it wasn’t his intention to leave him, not now or anytime soon. He hated the thought of being away from him again. Hated… seeing him like this too. It was such a confused plead though. Why him? Why him out of all people? Look at how pathetic I am, Ouma-kun. Look at everything I didn’t d–

Slap. It happened faster than he knew. His palm suddenly brushed over Saihara-chan’s cheek, because if his methods didn’t work then… That was what Momota-chan had done, right? What he always did when he ran out of words to use. Violence. But when he punched Saihara-chan in the face last time, he had taken off his hat the very same night.  …Of course, that hadn’t been all that led up to it. But perhaps it had helped him. The raw pain that Ouma felt in his hands now, the stinging. Perhaps it brought him back to his senses. If not… then what? 

“Saihara-chan–”, he started, swallowing the rocks in his throat yet again. He stared at him with newfound fever, fire in his eyes. With more determination, now that he was sure that he was losing his mind here, with him.  “…has always… a-always been my favorite” His breath had grown heavier, and as he finally took his hand down again, he was panting, glaring with determination, desperation, rather than anger or hatred or whatnot. “Don’t tell me I need a reason for that! I-I just… admired you. Always…” Tears threatened to spill over his eyes yet again. He shook them off with a sniff, trying to keep himself together. “S-so… don’t leave. You’re not the only one… who is afraid.”

... oh.

The shock takes a moment to register. Maybe-- perhaps he should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve seen it with the sudden edge in his eye, with the shadow over his face, the tense of his muscles and the lift of his hand. But instead he’d raised his eyes, blinked, thought, for a split moment, wait, what--

And Ouma’s palm connects with his cheek with a resonating clap that reverberates sharply in his ear, echoes through the room like the sound of breaking glass.

He feels the ringing of the glass’ singing edges on his skin, slowly raising a hand to his cheek, feeling like he’s wading through a dream, unsure if... what happened had really happened. His fingers brush skin-- and he widens his eyes before they narrow into slits, wincing, biting his lip as his cheek burns beneath red skin.

His eyes slide from his fingers to the other boy’s face, wide, searching his features. For what? He doesn’t know.

It’s like time stopped. His mind has halted, stuttered to a stop, as if Ouma’s shoved a hand between the gears of his thoughts and forced everything to a grinding, sudden, halt.

He sweeps up his attention like a tidal wave, and Saihara stares up at him.

And in the quietness, in the silence of the singing glass, Ouma begins to speak to him.

He swallows. He rolls his tongue over his teeth. He looks away again, eyes flickering down, but he tugs them back, because after what’s happened, after what he’s done... Ouma deserves that, at least. His attention. To not look away... not again.

God. But does he deserve this? All this attention? All this... affection? What has he even done to receive this? Why, why, why?

( But he tells him-- does he need a reason? )

What... what else? Why else? He...

Saihara lowers his head, bites his lips, moistening them, slightly.

“I...” another swallow. “I’m sorry.” Ah, that again. Of course. God, he should just--

No. Stop. He feels his heart beat blood like flames in his cheek, and he winces, again. “I-I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just...”

He falls quiet, letting his eyes fall to his hand. Gently, gingerly, gradually, he reaches out for it, intertwines his fingers with his and squeezes it, once.

And then he takes in a breath, and allows himself... allows them... this.

“...I won’t, Ouma-kun. I... I promise.”

[tanteiish]

usodanee:

…So this is how it was gonna be then, huh? Of course. He didn’t know what else he was expecting. That they were miraculously united again. That they could go through this together this time, considering they’d been on opposing ends way too many times. That this time there would be someone, anyone to hold his hand and say it’s okay. To stay by his side and… not leave, for once. Well, the game was a bit different wasn’t it? He didn’t have anyone but himself to blame for his loneliness. Even when the odds were against him, he only poured oil into the flames raging against him at that time. Saihara-chan had put them out though, so he thought that perhaps… perhaps he meant it when he said he didn’t have to be alone any longer. Ouma swallowed, looking at the floor. He held onto his shirt, clutched it with clumsy fingertips and didn’t know what to say. Why, Saihara-chan? Why would you make such empty promises? Whenever you lied, you had good reasons, didn’t you? So then… what was the reason for this? His eyes fell shut, tears threatening to spill over again. He took what little strength he had left to hold them back, only sniffling slightly before he spoke.

“Of course”, he continued, his voice quieter now, void of emotions. All that followed was a hollow laughter, a last fake smile.  “Sorry, I guess–”, he paused. Had to pause to brace himself for his words. “…I guess it was stupid to think you meant it.” You’re alone, Ouma-kun, and you’ll always be. Look at you. You’re pathetic. He felt sick, and suddenly having Saihara-chan on him was too heavy a burden to carry. He was just weight. Even though… even though he never wanted him to be that. What was he supposed to do with him? He couldn’t fix him. He couldn’t help him. He didn’t want to be helped. 

“I–”, he swallowed thickly, feeling rocks in his throat. If Saihara-chan didn’t hate him after this… if he didn’t think the worst of him, then Ouma would do that part for him. “I really thought you wouldn’t leave me alone a second time.”

“N-no...”

Ah, there he goes again. Of course, of course. He’s hurt him again, hasn’t he? With that reckless mouth of his. With that stupid mouth of his. Perhaps Ouma’s tongue was sharp, but his was deliberate, intentional. Saihara’s is wild, untamed, burning at his teeth and gums, cutting down and hurting when he never meant to.

Or maybe he did? Maybe he really was a sadist? Maybe he was lying to himself, somehow enjoyed all of... this. This suffering. Because he brings about nothing but pain, makes nothing but mistakes, perhaps it’d be best if he started to... enjoy it.

( But the thing is-- he can’t. He never could, and that’s why it hurts. )

He grabs at his arm, suddenly, tugs hard at his sleeves, almost desperately. Please, no, don’t go, that’s not what I meant, that’s not... 

“Why...” 

Why what? Why this? Why any of this? There is nothing new under the sun, King Solomon despaired, in the book of Ecclesiastes. Everything is meaningless. Utterly meaningless.

And yet...

Here he is. Here they are. Despairing, hoping, crying... surviving. Living, somehow.

It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Perhaps, but...

That’s not the question, really, is it? Here he is, looking for a reason. His why. Ouma grants it to him, tentatively, a thread to latch onto. One for the both of them.

He ignores it, flees, turns his cheek away, because he’s...

Afraid. Scared. Terrified. Of the consequences, of the possibilities, of the future. Of something that cannot be promised, not completely. Of where the truth bleeds into all these lies, of where nothing is certain and everything is... probable. Could be. 

He’s afraid of promises, of making vows, because he’s not sure he can keep them. They bind, they take, hold him responsible and accountable, force him to trust when he does too much, does too little. What if he wants to run away? What if he screws up again? 

Will he be able to forgive himself? Again and again?

( Does he even deserve that? )

But they also... give. Grant. And... maybe that was worth it. Maybe... that was worth the trouble. The pain. The price of messing up, of responsibility, of accountability, of being a selfish, screwed up mess of mistakes like he was.

Maybe...

He swallows, again, and gropes for his wrist, holds it tightly.

“Why,” he begins again, swallows and closes his eyes, feels the tears circle his eyelids and slip down his cheeks as he finally dares to look him in the eye.

“Why me?”

Why him? What’s so special about him? Ouma-kun deserved so much better. Not someone who made so many mistakes, who always screwed up, who was so afraid he wore a stupid hat to hide from everyone’s eyes.

Who was so afraid he thought he could escape living in the real world by dying in fiction.

“I-I... why me? I’m not... I-I’m nothing, Ouma-kun. You... y-you deserve so much more than me. I-I’ll just... mess everything up for you. I make too many mistakes, and I-I always screw up... s-screw up everything, for eveyone. Y-you... why me?”

[tanteiish]

usodanee:

Saihara-chan is a coward. Or at the very least he used to be one, huh? Calling him anything but strong at this point felt wrong to him. Strong and… mostly stubborn. Someone who can endure, who suffered more than anyone ever needed to suffer. All energy had drained from him, and yet he was still here. Saihara Shuuichi-chan prevailed even after all this, he breathed and choked and begged for death like anyone in his situation would. So then, what made Saihara Shuuichi-chan brave? That didn’t matter right now. His lips parted for another empty attempt to reach him and closed against the matter of reality. He had nothing left to say to him, and yet so many unspoken words lingered on his tongue that he wouldn’t be done in a million years. He was still tired, Saihara-chan. He was in no position to hear him out.  Ouma’s fingertips brushed through the dark, sweaty curls of his classmate. They were slick and soft, and some part of him wished desperately that he could bury his face inside of them and let the world be. How nice would it be if the entire world disappeared, left them in this room forever. They could hold hands, hug. Fall asleep in each other’s arms. Whisper sweet words to each other. 

“You said you’d be with me” Perhaps that was the most selfish thing he could have said in that moment. His throat grew dry, his fingertips trembled. He watched him cry silently in his arms, his red eyes, his quivering, broken lips. They’d never been so close to each other. They’d never been like this at all. “So I’ll take you by your word.” God, how awful. Taking advantage of him like this. Ouma felt sick. “You don’t know anything about me, ne, Saihara-chan? So you can’t leave yet.”

Saihara sure was selfish, wasn’t he?

He’s here, carried like a raft on the swellings of an ocean, brought up with the wills and wishes of the ( once ) dead. 

He’s here, brought to the end-- and yet instead of feeling gratitude he feels sick and disgusted. 

Disgusting. 

How many people want him to live? How many people want him to keep going? Akamatsu, Momota, Harukawa, Yumeno-- and now Ouma, too. And yet... he can’t. He doesn’t want to. The pain is too sharp and the ache is too blinding, and all he wants is for it to--

stop. God, please, make it stop.

Hahaha. He really was selfish, wasn’t he? With all their wishes, all their gratitude and thanks, all their desire for him to keep going, their trust--

He can’t. 

( He doesn’t want to. )

God, he hates being reliable. He was anything but reliable. Because whenever people relied on him-- he always screwed up, didn’t he? He always messed up, didn’t he? His hands quivered, his fingers trembled, fidgeted and curled back, and glass dropped from his grasp and shattered into snow at his feet, cut into his toes and bled with his mistakes.

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes.

He makes too many of them. People ask too much of him. Akamatsu, telling him to save everyone, and all he manages is himself and two other people. Momota, telling him to believe in himself, and yet he doubted, up to the very end. 

Ouma, and his plan to destroy the game, to bring it down and end it all. Ouma, and his trust in Saihara, after he rejected him the first time, after he cursed him with those words--

You’re alone, Ouma-kun. And you always will be.

And yet-- after all of that-- Ouma still somehow thought that he could trust Saihara.

God. Just how stupid was he?

( Just how stupid was he? Saihara, the detective, practically given the truth on a silver platter, and yet still blinded and tricked by no one but himself. Deceived by no one but his own incompetence, his own ignorance, his own idiocy and thoughts of reward for a truth that had none. )

God. Did he even promise? He’d asked if it was a proposal, but-- no, he never gave his word.

He wanted to. That was what he planned, if Ouma had said yes. But-- hah, of course, now he’s not so sure. 

Who else would think that but a dirty, disgusting, selfish coward?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice a breath, small, nearly dead. He shakes and he shakes, and he feels like he’s going to shatter into a thousand pieces, to fall apart right here, right there, in his arms. “I-I’m sorry, Ouma-kun, I... I don’t know... I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry...”

[leggyre]

bow down you fools

[tanteiish]

usodanee replied to your post: usodanee replied to your post: ...

watch porn with tenko and die proudly, for gonta

“...a-actually, you’re right. That’s probably the best course of action...”

[tanteiish]

usodanee replied to your post: miishou replied to your post: ...

please dont watch porn with gonta

“Listen-- It’s not like I want to. The only other option, uh... I-I don’t want to, ah. Dominate him. I-if we watched porn together, I could, uh... he... um... i-it wouldn’t be as bad. I think.”

[tanteiish]

now the real thing. togami, komaeda, kirigiri

new fmk meme || accepting !!

“Beat up... well, Kirigiri-san would probably twist my arm, Togami-san would probably sue me, so... Komaeda-san... I think he’d... understand. I’d apologize to him afterwards...

“Caress... Neither Kirigiri-san nor Togami-san seem like the type, but, uh. Caress Togami-san, probably, because he’d probably be more annoyed than anything else and less likely to sue me, I hope, and...

“Run away with Kirigiri-san. I feel she’d know what to do, in that kind of situation.”

[tanteiish]

miishou replied to your post: angie, gonta, tenko!

[ there’s no rest for saihara sdklgjsdklgs ]

absolutely none 

[tanteiish]

veritaphobic replied to your post “ouma, momota, amami. to get the obvious out of the way”

( i love death )

same

[tanteiish]

angie, gonta, tenko!

new fmk meme || accepting !!

“U-uhm. Uh. Gonta-kun... I wouldn’t want to expose him to, uh. That. Chabashira-san would kill me if I watched porn with her, s-so, uh... Angie-san? For... for watching porn.

“Hunt... it never specified what ‘hunt’ meant in this context, so... hide-and-seek hunt? Can I do that? Uh. Chabashira-san? I’d think she’d probably throw me until I passed out, but that’d be better than...

“Um. Actually... wait, no, nevermind. I’d... rather watch porn with Gonta-kun, a-and... dominate Angie-san instead. I... I suppose...”

[tanteiish]

ouma, momota, amami. to get the obvious out of the way

new fmk meme || accepting !!

“Ah... well, I suppose I’d like to dance with Amami-kun... I doubt Momota-kun knows how to dance, and I’m afraid he’d accidentally step on my toes. I feel something similar would go with Ouma-kun-- he’d probably see it as a chance to goof off, if anything.

And I’d... ah... um... I...” 

A lick of lips. A bob of the throat. “Uh. I... Momota-kun... he’d... done a lot for me. More than I deserved... I don’t think I could’ve really... survived. Um, went on. After Akamatsu-san’s death if it weren’t for him. I’d... there’s a lot I’d like to say to him. I miss him... I miss him a lot. It’d be nice to revive him...

“... but Ouma-kun. I... there might be more I’d want to say to him, too. He... I regret never... talking to him. Really understanding him. I... could’ve, but I rejected him. I-I guess it was inevitable, with all he did, but... I could’ve tried harder, I think. Maybe tried to understand him... I. I would like to get to know him more. Just to... get a chance to make up, somehow, for how I rejected him...

“Momota-kun, though... he’d know what to say about this, wouldn’t he? A-about us, right now. He always does. Even if it was ridiculous... he always found a way. His way. And... and Harukawa-san would like to see him, too, I’d imagine...” He hesitates, again. “But...

“Ah. Uh. If... i-if we’re going to go with the other option first, then, I’d... l-licking Momota-kun would be... uh... I wouldn’t want to lick Momota-kun, that’d be too weird for the both of us. Ouma-kun would at least find something to joke about it...

“So. Um. Dance with Amami-kun, lick Ouma-kun, a-and revive Momota-kun...”

[inboxideas]

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[kibu-me]

[ C H A B A N. ］

[tanteiish]

alright-- new icons and updated some of my rules for both my blogs...! ( other shiroganes and saiharas, it may be in your interest if you look at them...! )

now i should get to my activity, probably

[honeydewvalley]

🤔 🤔 🤔 🤔 🤔