#silveryyyy's fanfiction

[skyflicker]

sea glass (amasai week day one)

written for @amasaiweek2020, hosted by @storyflight and @toxicisnotapineapple! i know it’s not Monday over there in America or wherever you are unless you live in Asia like me, but it is very early morning over here so y’all get early content...? the prompt is shy/confession and i chose the latter but it might as well have been tears because, as you can see, i literally used it 510983794789278974983 times. i’m sorry-

this is the first official danganronpa fanfiction i’ve completed besides one i only sent to my friends for mid-autumn festival, so please go easy on the newbie of the day :3 i hope y’all enjoy this! (and if you do enjoy it, do drop over to my ao3 @silveryyy, where this is also posted, and leave a kudos ;) (it’s okay if you don’t tho-)

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Shuichi remembers the day as clearly as if it were just yesterday.

Three long, blurry years could not make a single dent in his memory, in his pain. Three years, and he still flinches at any sound of crashing, still hears the roaring sound of silence rolling in his ears afterwards, still sees the image of the smile he loved so much through the tears blurring his sight into a swirling mess of colours.

Time heals, they’d told him. It’ll numb soon. But Shuichi had never, not once in the half decade he’d spent locked in his room, felt the pain, the grief, the guilt recede- instead, he felt the dread twist deeper into his stomach every day, his lungs squeezed so hard he could hardly breathe with the streams he let pouring down, his gut stabbed, ever so brutally, by a thousand snow-rimmed spears, the deadly cold metal stinging his wounds, and then he’d look down and see nothing at all. The pain, though, still remains, and his heart drops and falls and smashes to the floor into a million tiny fragments that are painstakingly put back together just to be destroyed again the next day. Rivers of guilt and pain flooded his mind day by day, flowing between him and that person he loved so dearly, separating them cruelly on two opposite riverbanks, so so far away from each other.

The mornings are always the worst. He remembers the day after the accident, remembers his eyes opening to sunshine flowing in from the window as always, the fully clear glass fracturing the light ever so slightly to create the most gorgeous rainbows dancing playfully across the walls, casting a golden sheen across the room; the skies such a lovely vibrant shade of azure, smooth as a painter’s steady hand brushing across the ever-expanding canvas. The sky was so clear, without a cloud in sight, like it had not a single care in the world. For a moment, Shuichi had forgotten the day before, forgotten the endless tears shed, the screams that echoed the air, and actually felt his spirits life and soar as high as a joyful bird dashing up into the world. It’d only made him hurt more when the imaginary world breaks into pieces and bits and pieces of memories, ironically just like sunlight, streams into him through the faux happiness, like how the sun always finds a way to break out of the dark sheets of tar-like clouds.

Three painful years, with no one there for him, no one to ease his mind, no one to comfort him.

To be completely fair, his friends did try to help. Kaede still lets herself in every other day, after her day job at the local coffee shop, to shake Shuichi awake, make him a small dinner and prepare simple meals for him when she wasn't there, maybe try to coax him out of the house. She never gave up on him, never gave up on trying desperately to cheer him up, to have him pick up the life he once had. Maki comes over as much as she can- she's busy, being a kindergarten teacher, sits with Shuichi and talks about her day, talks about Kaito, and sometimes they just mourn, together, and he ends up crying and Maki just silently comforts him. Unlike Kaede (not to say she isn’t of any help, Kaede’s great and helps him take his mind off the incident), Maki more than understands- she shares in the pain of having lost a loved one- when Kaito'd died of cancer four years ago, Shuichi'd been completely devastated at the loss of his best friend and brother, but Maki definitely bore the brunt of the impact. At least he'd had Rantaro to help him then. Now- 

It's too painful to think about. But even if his friends tried their best to help him- his other friends/old classmates drop in from time to time as well- they're just… not the people he wants to see or talk to. Despite their attempts to have him move on, he just can't, the last argument he had with… him still deeply etched into his brain, every single moment he'd spent with his ex-boyfriend imprinted onto his eyelids. None of his friends, none of them except maybe Maki, truly understand, truly get why he's chosen to stay here mourning the loss of his lifeline. 

He feels guilty whenever they try to usher him out, though. He remembers the first time Kaede tried to persuade him to go out, his outburst at his foster sister, and she looked more scared than he'd ever seen her. That expression'd been enough for his anger to fade away into the dark wisps of shadows that now permanently reside in the corners of his eyes, always waiting to strike.

He remembers being so shocked and horrified at himself that the glass mug slipped from his hand, the crystal-like cup shattering into tiny sharp fragments, and they'd both flinched at the high-pitched crash, Shuichi's heart falling with it. He’d looked at Kaede, and opened his mouth to apologize at the sight of her large, sweet plum coloured eyes filled with guilt and tears, but she’d quietly beat him to it and slipped out of the doors, leaving Shuichi alone, alone with the click of the doors, and his own screaming, and the sound of the glass shattering on the floor echoing over and over again.

For three years, he hid away in his apartment. For three years, he’d been mourning alone, shut in his room, buried under the numerous blankets he kept in his closet.

But today, he decides, he’s going to break that record. For the first time since his best friend’s death, he’s going to go outside.

For the first time in ages, he actually wants to go out.

The last time he’d gone out was the day his best friend left him, left him alone in this cold and unforgiving world. He remembers coming home to his phone buzzing from a text, from Rantaro, the first time they’d talked since the large, intense argument they’d had two whole weeks prior. Rantaro’d been in Europe since that argument, with the only sister- Rina, a sweet girl five years younger than both Rantaro and Shuichi- he’d found over the countless years of searching- now the sole heiress of the Amami fortune- looking for his other siblings.

“I’m sorry.”

It was so sudden that Shuichi hadn’t known how to respond at all. He’d stared at the text, at the two words glowing on his screen, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn’t mad at Rantaro, not at all, (now he thinks that it was so stupid of him to argue, if he hadn’t he’d have been with Rantaro and Rina in Europe, he might have been able to save a life and saved so many hearts-) but, what if, what if he’d suddenly said something wrong? What if he destroys their friendship once and for all?

He didn't get to be anxious over it for long, though. Barely five minutes later, he’d gotten a phone call from Rina, a call that completely turned his life upside down.

Rina’s completely broken voice, shaking as tears surely were flooding down her cheeks, rough and raw from screaming, still haunts him. He still hears her sobs as she’d delivered the news at night, while sinking in the giant cushion of cruel dreams and misleading unconsciousness.

He couldn’t even bear to leave the house for the funeral. Somehow, the idea of seeing Rantaro’s broken body, bruised and pale and so void of any life at all, was so scary, and frightening. It’d felt so surreal, like he was dreaming and couldn’t wake up at all….

In his memory, Rantaro is smiling. Happy. Alive. His eyes are so full of life, full of care and kindness.

He brushes off a tear, and with shaking hands, tentatively opens the door.

Maki’s waiting downstairs for him, having promised to drive him. She smiles at Shuichi when he appears at the top of the staircase, but it doesn’t reach her eyes- they’re dull and full of sadness, and probably reflect Shuichi’s own. Sometimes Shuichi forgets that Maki was close with Rantaro too, but the pain in her eyes says it for her today all too clearly. Shuichi returns the greeting with a slight inclination of his head, not daring to say anything in case his voice breaks, and his walls fall.

She doesn’t say anything either, just wordlessly gestures for him to get on, her gaze bitter. Her car is a gorgeous shade of glossy sapphire and it shimmers in the morning sunlight, projecting a soft warm silk-like sheen of light that almost seems to coat the vehicle, and Shuichi is reminded of the ocean- gently rocking the boat like a baby’s cradle and its waves softly caressing the vessel sometimes but roughly pushing it from side to side and violently crashing over one’s head in others- as he looks at the colour, and he feels as if he’s drowning in the wild raging waters of heartbreak.

It’s also vaguely similar to the deep navy blue that forms the base of the galaxy, the shade that swirls to form so many beautiful and yet unpredictable patterns upon the dark spans of canvas at night. He wonders briefly if Maki picked this colour in memory of Kaito, of the love of her life she lost to dreadful lung cancer, of the space he used to love and fantasise about so much. 

In so many ways, Maki is much stronger than he, Shuichi, is. Even after the death of her boyfriend, she’s still able to pick herself back up, able to actually get back on her feet and continue living on with Kaito’s stars shining a pathway in her eyes, guiding her hands and mind, and his memory in her heart that she carries with her everywhere. She lives on and her world keeps spinning where Shuichi’s stopped, lives with a smile that Kaito instilled in her, remembers the good memories and is able to move on, truly once and for all, carrying the fond memories she smiles upon without a single trace of bitterness with her. 

Shuichi envies her, envies that she has the courage to stand up and brush the pain off her as if it were just simply dust and ashes, when he’s falling into an endless spiral of despair with no way out.

It’s too upsetting, though, he decides, to think about it now. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the door open, hands fumbling to pull himself into the chamber.

It takes them a whole hour to get to their destination, complete with a quick stop to the nearest boutique. Shuichi clutches the flowers he picked out tightly, restlessly fiddling with some of them, absentmindedly weaving a few roses into a small flower wreath. Maki’s mostly silent as she drives along the deserted roads of the countryside, and Shuichi stares outside the glass panes, at the miles and miles of rolling emerald fields, the sun shining upon it relentlessly. He can’t help but think how Rantaro would’ve tried to break the silence, giving him that beautiful smile and initiating a conversation that would bloom to become lively and animated, and end with all of them smiling or laughing. Rantaro was perceptive like that, knowing when people needed support and being able to cheer them up in the best ways possible.

Shuichi wonders what Rantaro thinks of him now, if he were watching Shuichi in his afterlife. Would he be disgusted, disappointed with how Shuichi is wasting away his life? Supportive and encouraging, understanding that Shuichi can’t move on? Hoping that he’ll see sense soon?

“You’re nervous,” Maki breaks the silence around them, her eyes not leaving the road for a single second, but Shuichi knows she’s directing her statement towards him. 

Shuichi lets out a breath, “who wouldn’t be?” He can feel his stomach turning over and over, and the horizon seems so blurred, the shades of blue and green swirling together into a mess of emotions as the tears swim in his eyes. He can feel his throat tightening, and the dread settle in his gut, sinking slowly but surely, like heavy grey stones. 

Maki laughs bitterly. “Yea, true.” Shuichi doesn’t look at her, is scared to look at her in fear he’ll break down and they’d have no choice but to turn back again, but he’s certain Maki’s hands are shaking terribly as her slender fingers tap on the wheel. “You don’t have to be, though. Rantaro would understand why you’ve put this off for so long. It’s not easy.”

She doesn’t continue, but Shuichi knows what she doesn’t say. It was especially hard on you.

“Would he, though?” Shuichi remembers clearly, the last thing he ever said to Rantaro, harsh words he regretted for years in a harsh fight. Rantaro’s eyes, pleading, the lemongrass colour Shuichi adored so much infused with tears, Shuichi telling him to leave him alone, stop bothering him. He’s regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but by then Rantaro was already gone, with nothing but the tear stains left all over the ground by both of them, left behind. Shuichi didn’t have enough courage to take the initiative, to face his best friend after that, but never in his wildest dreams would he have had ever imagined that he wouldn’t ever get a chance to apologize and make amends. He knew very well that Rantaro had done nothing wrong at all, that it was him, him and his issues and bad mood, and Rantaro had simply walked in at the wrong time when Shuichi was weak and vulnerable and just upset. Still, he’d pushed Rantaro away, hurt both of them at the same time, unknowingly the last time they’d see each other.

Rantaro had died thinking that Shuichi hated him, that Shuichi didn’t want him around, that Shuichi didn’t trust Rantaro enough.

All of which were false, and Shuichi, to this day, can barely live with that fact.

Rina had told him that the crash hadn’t instantly killed her brother. According to the younger girl, the bus had gone completely out of control in the middle of the countryside, veering completely off the road, crashing into a tree and flipping back onto the road, this time upside down. It’d killed most of the other passengers on impact, knocked a few others unconscious, but Rantaro had grabbed his sister the moment things had started to go wrong, keeping Rina safe and one of the only survivors of the crash. Rina’d described to him in tears when she visited him how Rantaro had reached for his phone desperately despite being severely injured, stabbed all over by the shattered windows, just to try calling Shuichi (who was unfortunately in the elevator),and when there’d been no response, he’d painstakingly typed out his final words to Shuichi, wincing in unbearable pain with every moment. “He refused to stop no matter how much i begged him,” Rina had said, her face stained with numerous tear tracks that were being constantly renewed. “He really did love you a lot.”

That night, and countless nights after that, he dreamt of Rantaro’s last moments, exactly how Rina had described it to him. It played, and replayed, and replayed in his mind, constantly torturing him with the knowledge that his best friend, his crush, the one person he loved beyond everything else, went through such pain just to reach him, and died not knowing that Shuichi wasn’t mad and loved him with all his heart.

Shuichi knows, deep down, that he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve that love that Rantaro had endlessly and unconditionally shown and devoted to him.

Countless memories flash before his eyes, and Rantaro laughs and smiles in them, his eyes so bright and full of life and happiness, taken away from him too soon. He always had a way of comforting people, and it was so hard to not smile in his presence… ever so easygoing and kind, ever so calm and collected. It drew so many people to him, most of all Shuichi. He remembers how Rantaro’s eyes lit up in excitement and anticipation when they’d travelled to anywhere he hadn’t been; the concern so blatant on his face whenever Shuichi got himself injured or neglected his meals; the concentration he held in his eyes when he’d walked in on Rantaro sketching, his colour pencils scratching the parchment lightly, Rantaro’s chuckle as he tore the drawing off the sketchbook and pressed it into Shuichi’s hand....

“You’re too harsh on yourself,” Maki says, and takes one hand off the wheel, placing it over Shuichi’s trembling pair, as the car slides into the empty carpark. “Rantaro isn’t the type of person to be angry at you for something like this, and you know it.”

He can’t say a thing, not without letting the urging stream currently held back by a weak imaginary dam rush out and drip down his cheeks. He slips out of the car once it comes to a stop, and Maki comes to his side after locking the doors. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, and instead wordlessly walks away towards the onyx iron gates glittering in the sun. 

She looks back at him as she approaches the gates, and Shuichi follows her steps as Maki pushes them open slowly. 

Beyond the gates is a path sheltered by tall oaks and towering willows on both sides, leading to an open field framed with trees, holding rows upon rows of uniformly arranged warm grey stones, an endless meadow of rest for the deceased. Maki heads straight for them, maneuvering around the graves easily with complete certainty, like she had the route memorized and printed clearly into her mind, and her feet would find the correct path without error even if she wasn’t looking. She must’ve walked this same path a thousand times.

Shuichi follows her after a slight moment of hesitation. Maki stands at the side of one of the rows in the middle, and as he approaches her, she walks to the seventh slot, and kneels before it. She drops her own bouquet of blossoms, takes the wreath of roses from his hand lightly, and places it on top of the gravestone for him, and with a shock, Shuichi realizes that Maki is crying. 

Her silent tears make their way down her face and fall onto the cushion of soft grass beneath her knees. They remain in the quiet for a while, with no sound except for the rush of the wind and the soft chirping of the birds in the distance. 

He can’t even recall the last time he’s seen Maki cry at all, at least not since Kaito’s funeral (which was natural, considering they were completely and utterly in love). Seeing her expressing her emotions, letting the droplets run freely across her cheeks and glisten in the sunlight, is so utterly devastating and somehow relieving (as opposed to how reserved she was when he’d met her and Kaito in primary school) at the same time. Maki used to spend so much time with Kaito, it’s so easy to forget she and Rantaro were childhood friends, but in times like this it’s clear that they were at least close. The scene pushes at his own tear ducts, and he holds back his sobs, in fear he might distress Maki even more.

Eventually, she raises her hand to swipe off the tears, and stands. “I’ll give you a little bit of privacy,” her voice is soft and trembling and so fragile, completely opposite to her normal tone. “I’ll be over at Kaito’s, you remember where that is?”

Shuichi nods, and Maki picks up her flowers and walks away.

He takes Maki’s previous position, kneeling before the gravestone, and finally lets out the sobs he’s kept. Finally, he lets the regret, the guilt, the grief, the pain all out at once, letting it stream down and away from him.

“You finally came,” A familiar voice says, and Shuichi looks up to see the image of a teenage boy sitting on the edge of the stone. “I was wondering when I’d finally get to see you.”

He looks exactly the same as when Shuichi last saw him, down to the very last detail- his tousled green hair, the soft aegean-and-white striped sweater he loved so much, the same charcoal coloured jeans, the warmth he held in those pretty lemongrass eyes. He was sixteen when he left, and he looks like he hasn't aged at all- which, admittedly, he probably hasn't. Do people age in heaven? Is there even a heaven?

Well… if there is one, Rantaro would definitely be there.

“Rantaro,” Shuichi chokes out. "I-" 

The person in question shushes him, a faint smile remaining on his lips. "It's okay, Shuichi. Don't apologize."

Shuichi brushes away his tears, "How could I not?" His voice wavers and shakes as he speaks. "I- I yelled at you for nothing- you-"

"Shu, it's okay," the smile doesn't leave Rantaro's face. Why isn't he angry? Why isn't he- "It's okay to just be feeling upset. It's okay to take your time to process something that impacted you as much as my death did." 

And there it was- the ease with which he addressed his own death, like it was something out of his control. Like Shuichi couldn’t have saved Rantaro in another world or another timeline. “But I- I could have saved you, I could have saved all this pain-”

“Shu... “ Rantaro shakes his head. “It’s already been done. It’s fine, it’s completely fine… I’m proud of you, already, for coming here today to see me. You’ve been so brave.”

His hands seem to instinctively reach to touch Shuichi’s head, but Rantaro quickly retracts it before it touches the other man. Shuichi, however, stands and hugs his friend, not caring about the freezing coldness spreading across his body, burying his face into Rantaro’s shoulder as he sobs into him. In life, his friend was always so warm, in contrast to Shuichi’s constant coldness, but now he’s deadly cold, but Shuichi doesn’t mind.

Rantaro hugs him back, and for a moment Shuichi feels like they were back in the past, three years ago, when Rantaro was always with him. “I love you,” he blurts, “I never really got to tell you that, even if I did crush on you for ages,” he laughs bitterly at all the years he spent pining for his best friend, “ and you were gone so quickly- so soon, when I thought we’d have more time, and the argument, and all, I’m so sorry…”

“I love you too,” Rantaro replies simply, and Shuichi’s heart soars, “that was quite sudden, though,” he adds, “very unconventional. I like it,” he chuckles. “ why wouldn’t I like you back? For someone who’s so smart and quick normally, you can be dense when it comes to your feelings and feelings others have for you… Akamatsu-san crushed on you for years, and as did I, and you had no idea.”

Shuichi laughs through his tears, “So I’ve been told,” he says, “I should’ve told you earlier, maybe we’d be able to avoid all this.”

Rantaro smiles, shaking his head again. “What’s done is done, Shuichi, there’s nothing we can do to turn back time. Besides, I don’t blame you for being upset about being bullied for something as personal as sexual orientation, let alone being taunted for crushing over me.”

The other man goes quiet, “you knew?”

The smile Rantaro gives Shuichi is a sad one, “Kokichi told me after I left you alone. I’m sorry for triggering you that day, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t say that,” Shuichi cuts him off, “please, Rantaro, it was my fault for yelling at you.” He doesn’t say that his mistake haunts him for days, for months, for years, that he still dreams of it and wakes up screaming in the mornings. It’s his fault, after all, and he deserves the punishment.

“How was it your fault?” Rantaro’s voice is soft. “Listen, Shu, there’s no going back now. We had so many chances, but all those are over now and I don’t regret ever loving you, I don’t regret a single second of the time we spent together. Our chapter of your story, the final chapter of mine, it’s over, Shuichi. It’s time for you to move on now, to turn over the page and find your happiness again.” He pulls away, ushering Shuichi to sit down on the grass. “There’s nothing I want more than to see you truly happy again.”

“But- but,” Shuichi starts, “how do I go on without you? How do I move on-” his voice breaks and he whispers, “how do I move on without you with me? Without you guiding me?” 

Rantaro smiles lightly, “I’ll always be there for you, with you. My memory’s always in your heart, isn’t it?” He reaches up and unclasps the necklace around his neck, the one piece of jewelry Shuichi had never seen his best friend without, and he grabs Shuichi’s hand gently, shoving the necklace in it. “Part of me is always with you.”

Shuichi stares at the priceless treasure he holds in his hand, the blues and greens in the sea glass swirling into a gorgeous whirlpool, and he’s reminded of the gentle waves lapping at Rantaro’s boat, that one time they sailed to find Rantaro’s sister. It reminds him abruptly of the one night of his life he’ll always remember, one beautiful night when Rantaro got himself drunk and accidentally kissed Shuichi. Rantaro’d forgotten the incident the next morning, and Shuichi had been too embarrassed and nervous to tell him what had happened, but he remembered the feeling of the lips of his first love pressed against his own, and the feeling that everything was right in the world when the green-haired boy had taken his first kiss. He smiles sadly at the necklace, knowing things like that would never happen again.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t do it just once again. He pulls Rantaro down from where the other was perched on the gravestone, and ignoring the feeling of ice that spreads across his body, he kisses the man he loves so much. Rantaro seems alarmed and surprised at first, but he complies and kisses him back, and Shuichi can’t control his crying as he melts into the person he fell in love with so long ago. 

Eventually, Shuichi pulls away, and hugs Rantaro instead, wrapping his arms around the other and clutching on as tight as possible. It feels so bittersweet, and Shuichi knows this is the last time he’ll see Rantaro, at least until he dies himself, but somehow, he’s alright with that, at least more than he was before he came to see Rantaro. At least, now, he has closure, and something to look forward to. At least now, he knows that he isn’t alone. He’s had a chance to say goodbye, a chance to write the final sentences of the last chapter, a chance to reconcile with what he thought was long gone.

Only one question remains, that Shuichi needs to ask Rantaro.

The man in question only smiles at Shuichi as the latter asks, “is this real, and are you really here? Or am I dreaming and all this is only my imagination?”

Rantaro holds Shuichi’s hands as the latter sits up, having pulled back from the hug, and lets lemongrass meet the green grey that is Shuichi's eyes. “Of course it’s a dream, an act of imagination, but why should that mean it isn’t real?”

Shuichi lets out a laugh, “thank you. I love you, Rantaro Amami,” he takes a deep breath, pushing away further tears. “Thank you for all you’ve given me.”

Rantaro smiles, “I love you too, Shuichi Saihara,” he lets go of Shuichi’s hands. “Thank you, for being the most amazing friend and crush I could ever have asked for, thank you for the happiness you gave me, thank you for everything.” 

And Shuichi cannot help but brush away a tear as the image of his best friend fades away and is carried off by the gentle spring breeze, and picks up the bouquet of forget-me-nots lying on the ground. He places it right in front of Rantaro’s gravestone, and his mind is full of images of the drawing Rantaro had gifted him years ago that is still placed on his desk, the vibrant azure of forget-me-nots captured eternally in colour pencil.

He stands, and the light of the late morning sun shines over him as he looks over the graveyard, his gaze sweeping over the endless rows of stones, and landing back on Rantaro’s. He looks down, and with a start, realizes that a certain sea glass necklace is still in his hand.

He holds it with both hands, caressing it softly with his thumb, his fingers moving across the glossy, reflective surface of the gem as droplets land on the sea glass and allows light to pass through, fracturing the sunlight into countless tiny rainbows shining on the surface of the sea glass. 

With a small laugh, he clasps it around his neck, tucking it behind his black T shirt, and feels the cool gem drop onto his skin. He lets his gaze move to a farther spot, where Maki is kneeling before Kaito’s grave, and starts to make his way over, but not without looking back at Rantaro’s grave, and whispering “thank you”.

And for the first time in three years, Shuichi smiles, genuinely.

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa v3 #amasai #amasai week 2020 #there should be some italics but i'm too tired to read through it again to add them #rantaro amami #shuichi saihara #angst #silveryyyy's fanfiction #hurt/comfort

[skyflicker]

always with me (amasai week day six)

written for @amasaiweek2020 hosted by @toxicisnotapineapple and @storyflight! last fic i have for the week and the last installment in the ‘shuichi gets over rantaro’s death’ series (lmao). questionable ships ahead-

but seriously, i can’t write fluff lmao. and it’s another pretty narrative piece but i hope y’all still like and enjoy it! my ao3 is @silveryyy and this fic is up there, as are all my other ones, and i’ll be posting other fics of mine up there soon, so do stick around and stay tuned, there’s a lot of me y’all haven’t seen yet!

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Shuichi’s hand lingers on the doorbell as he waits for someone to answer. 

The mansion is huge, and as big as the family is, there are only two maids, so it takes quite some time until anyone comes to open the door. It’s quiet all around- the house is in the suburb areas of Sapporo, and not many people of similar status come out at night. At this time of the night, Shuichi is the only one on these streets, alone. 

Moonlight smiles down at him, like a gossamer veil of pearl-like periwinkle silk hanging over the area, stray strands of the light winding around the lamp posts and illuminating the rooftops of the mansions. It casts a soft ivory sheen over the greenery lining the streets, the daisies shining a lilac colour as Night’s onyx cloak of darkness attempts to camouflage it. The tar-like fog of Night reaches towards Shuichi, clouds of billowing obsidian mist flooding towards him, starting to fill him with anxiety and doubt, but he’s barely affected- he knows that his best friend is always with him no matter what, and the thought alone comforts him and strengthens him against the attacks of darkness.

Snow is falling from the sky as the ever cold and unforgiving wind whips around Shuichi with its iced daggers and snowy blades, beating relentlessly at his face, and he holds his coat closer as his scarf spins around, tossed by the wind. Despite the cold it brings, the snowflakes are graceful, twirling in an elegant dance as they land lightly on the flowers, on the grass, covering the cobblestones on the pavement, leaving piles of alabaster fluffiness on the sides of the road: it leaps everywhere, coating the roofs and falling, like dimmed meteors, the spears of the stars, onto Shuichi’s hands. He shivers from the contact- it’s freezing cold, and he’s not wearing gloves- but he smiles at the serenity of the moment nonetheless. It’s cliche, but he likes watching the snow fall. There’s something mesmerizing about how the droplets of softened ice sway to the rondo of the wind, how they fall almost uniformly but there’s a natural irregularity to it that makes it ever so interesting to watch. People normally think of snow as something beautiful and soft and lovely until they come into contact with it and dismiss it as annoying, but Shuichi doesn’t. He just loves it, loves the silence it seems to naturally bring, loves the tranquility of its nature. 

There’s a poem he really likes, Quieter than Snow, by Bertie Dorherty, that he heard when he was in school. It’s a poem he always thinks about when he sees snow (which is rather often after he moved to Sapporo), even though he knows the poem isn’t actually about snow and is actually rather eerie. He’s never been much of a literature person, being more of a science kid than language, but Kaede, and surprisingly Maki both studied the subject as an elective, and the latter taught him the poem during one of their study sessions with Kaito. It’s somewhat creepy, in his opinion, and sends shivers down his spine, but it’s beautifully written, portrays silence and the strange feelings of feeling alone in somewhere that shouldn’t be, perfectly. The same silence always comes with the falling of snow, and even though Shuichi knows snow absorbs sound and that’s why everything seems so quiet around it, he can’t help but think of the poem.

It takes two minutes until the doorbell is answered. The oakwood doors creak open as Shuichi looks over, and lets a smile spread across his face as Sora opens the door, her face lighting up along with the porch, which is immediately submerged in the light streaming out from the entrance hall.

“Shuichi!” the young woman exclaims, and walks forward to pull the man inside. “We’ve been waiting for you! Sorry it took so long and sorry for leaving you in the cold, Akira was crying and everyone was fussing over her and all…”

“It’s no problem,” the man assures her, and her face relaxes. Shuichi changes into his indoor shoes- he smiles as he sees the shoes with his name clipped on them. He doesn’t live here with Rantaro’s sisters, but he’s over so often that they’ve prepared everything for him in case he drops over anytime.

“Everyone else is in the living room, I think, you’ll probably find whoever you’re looking for there.” Sora smiles at him, and then disappears into a corridor, no doubt off to the sewing room- Shuichi remembers Rantaro describing her as the most creative person he knew, and Shuichi completely agrees. Sora is an avid fan of textiles and sewing, and works as a fashion designer- she’s rather famous here in Japan, actually, and her designs are always popular. He’s seen some of them himself, and found himself extremely impressed- it’s like she weaves her outfits out of strands of moonlight and threads of sunlight. Naoko told him once that she recognized the necklace he wears upon seeing him because of the string the sea glass is strung on, and that it’s one of Sora’s special designs, woven out of the finest silks into a durable pearl-coloured string, and simply was irreplicable. 

Despite how large the mansion is- Shuichi finds himself constantly surprised with the vastness of the Amami fortune no matter how many times he’s seen it in action- he’s been around enough times to know his way around. He finds his way to the living room easily, knocking lightly on the oak doors.

This time, his call is answered fairly quickly. The doors open to someone throwing their arms around him tightly. “Shuichi! We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Minori,” he smiles as he greets Rantaro’s youngest sister, the girl a whole eight years younger than he is. She was three when she was lost, according to Rantaro, and was only found four and a half years ago when she was sixteen. She’s an adult now, and Shuichi feels a pang of guilt in his stomach for not finding her earlier, but he pushes the thought away. “It’s great to see you, too.”

The teenage girl smiles happily as she releases him, and lets him into the room. The living room is vast, with dark chocolate coloured glossy floorboards, and beige pillars with gold swirled in them extend to the tall ceiling metres above him, arching to the middle of the ceiling. On the ceiling itself is a mural of the night sky and all the constellations, which glow in the dark when the lights are off, and a large light shaped like the solar system dangles from it. Further down the room, a carpeted spiral staircase, its handles painted gold and embedded with topaz stones that fracture the light and project tiny rainbows everywhere, leads up to a balcony overlooking the living room, connecting a few rooms together. It’s a gorgeous design, and even if Shuichi’s been here many times over the years since he’s found half of the siblings, which was when this mansion was bought, he still marvels at it every single time.

Rantaro’s sisters are scattered all over the room. In the middle, Ena and Akari are pouring over some drawings as Akari, ever the artist, adds small details to a painting, and in one corner of the room, Hanako is playing Mario Kart with Shiori and Inori on a large screen, and Shuichi watches, smiling, as Shiori crosses the finish line first, letting out a cheer, and her eyes turn to him. She laughs as she waves at him, and calls for her youngest biological sister, who is still behind Shuichi. Minori gives Shuichi’s hand a squeeze before she heads on over to her two biological sisters, who welcome her with hugs, and her second oldest sister. In another corner, Yuki is lounging on the bean bag chairs in the reading corner, back against the shelves overflowing with books, a pile of novels on the ground next to her, and typing away on her computer- Yuki’s a writer and poet, and Shuichi likes talking to her about plots and stories, and her books are always really beautifully written and interesting. She’s talking to Naoko as she types, and the other girl is finally smiling and laughing again, like Rantaro told him she did when she was small. The young woman had been through countless hardships and was even forced to help with numerous kidnappings, and it’d taken them ages to persuade her to come back to Japan. Initially she’d refused, and Shuichi and Amaka were forced to leave without her, but two months later, she’d appeared on the mansion’s doorstep, seeking refuge after deserting her slavers. Amaka had taken her in without a single moment of hesitation, and Shuichi was beyond relieved it had worked out okay. Naoko’s now studying translation, and she’s truly talented in the subject- Shuichi finds himself constantly impressed by her ability to speak fluently in so many different languages.

He’s an only child, Shuichi is, but being with Rantaro’s sister lets him in on the feeling of being an older brother to these lovely young women. They seem to treat him like an older brother too, and even though Shuichi wouldn’t dream of ever replacing Rantaro (and he’s sure the girls won’t either), he feels welcome with them. Like they’re family. Akari calls Shuichi her brother in law, and so do a couple of the others, and even though Shuichi feels vaguely uncomfortable with it- after all, he never had the chance to confess to Rantaro when he was alive- but he grows used to it after a while. 

Some of Rantaro’s sister, like Ena and Hanako, aren’t always home- they stay in where they were lost for half the year or so, reunite with the family they built there while lost, so Shuichi especially enjoys and cherishes these times when they’re all home and the family is (almost) complete. It’s also why he loves the autumn and winter seasons so much- it gives him time to spend with his newfound family. He spends as much time as he can spare with them, gives them what they want, does everything he can for them, for Rantaro’s sake, for their brother who never got the chance to reunite with all of them.

“Shuichi!” he turns to see Kaede appearing at the top of the staircase, her signature bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs and forward. He does the same, and they meet each other in the middle, Kaede reaching to embrace her childhood friend, the closest thing she ever had to a brother in her childhood days, and vice versa. 

He’s always found it rather interesting and surprising that Kaede found love in one of Rantaro’s sisters- Amaka, in fact, who’s probably in one of the children’s rooms right now (probably Akira’s , their adopted daughter). It’s like fate always meant for Rantaro and Shuichi to become family, in one way or another. He remembers Rantaro telling him the meaning of the name ‘Amaka’- heaven’s song, and that’s probably what she is to Kaede, who’s a pianist and adores music. She loves her wife a lot, after all- that much is evident, by how Kaede’s eyes light up at the mere sight of Amaka, how she caters to her every need, how she looks at her wife with nothing but adoration.

“Kaede,” he greets her. “What did you call me here for? It’s past nine already.” 

She frowns a little, and gestures at one of the rooms that connect to the balcony. “Your godson wanted to see you. He’s refusing to sleep until you come by.”

Shuichi sighs, but a smile is on his lips. He loves his godson, adores spending time with him. He isn’t surprised this happened, actually- with his mother, Rina, off on a week-long exchange trip to Korea (she’s a teacher in a primary school) and his father accompanying her, and his mother’s twin Riku staying the night at her girlfriend’s, the three year old’s bound to feel scared. He gestures to Kaede to leave it to him, and as Kaede beams and thanks him before heading up to her daughter’s room, he makes his way towards the one of the far left, with its door ajar.

He knocks, and enters his godson’s room. It’s painted baby blue, and photos are hung all over one of the walls, of different countries and the young boy’s twelve aunts, and a few of Shuichi and Kaede and Rantaro. Toys are littered all over the floor, and a white bookcase is built up against one of the corners of the room.

The small boy is curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets, and as Shuichi enters, he looks up, and his face brightens. “Shuichi!” he says in greeting, and he sits down on the bed, smiling.

“Hey, Taro,” he strokes his godson’s hair softly. It was incredibly sweet of Rina to name her son after her deceased brother, and even sweeter of her husband and her to name Shuichi godfather when small Rantaro was born. The boy has his mother’s silky blonde hair that looked just like the manifestation of sunlight, and the cerulean blue eyes Shuichi found ever so familiar (Riku and Rina has the exact same eyes), and even though he doesn’t look like his namesake, Shuichi can see the Rantaro he knew in the young boy, in his quiet thoughtfulness and love of adventure, and Shuichi loves him for who he is. He knows, that up above, in Heaven, Rantaro’s looking down on this child, and smiling.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” the boy says, and Shuichi can see the terror in his eyes, the fear he carries of sleeping without his parents by his side for the first time ever. “I can’t sleep, not without Oka-san here, Shuichi, I want her here with me-”

Shuichi ruffles Rantaro’s hair as he says soothingly, “You know your mother can’t be here with you tonight, Taro… she’ll be back very soon. You know, she’s probably looking at the sky right now, where she is, and wondering if you’re asleep yet, worrying if you’re too scared to sleep alone, or if you miss her too much. Your mother loves you a lot, you know that.”

Rantaro’s cerulean eyes are large, and beautiful, as if they hold miles and miles of oceans in them, but at this moment the waters inside are wild and rogue, waves splashing and crashing down from high up, and they look into Shuichi’s desperately as he leans into his godfather and hugs him tightly. Shuichi hugs back, trying the best he can to comfort the terrified boy.

At last, Rantaro says, his voice muffled by Shuichi’s clothes, “Shuichi, tell me a story.”

He complies, starting to rise to get a storybook from the bookshelf, but Rantaro clutches onto him tightly. “Taro, I can’t get a book if you don’t let go,” he tells the boy softly, but the three year old still holds on tight.

“I don’t want just any other story, Shuichi, I’ve heard most of those books before,” he says, “you read them to me, remember? I want a story about you. About- about Uncle Rantaro.”

Shuichi widens his eyes in surprise, but he smiles, giving in to his godson’s request. He finds himself talking about Rantaro (the one who is his best friend) and him meeting, laughing slightly when he reaches the point where Rantaro waited for him for the entire night just to apologize for something his father did; he talks about how they met up every week at the coffee shop, how they had unintentionally gotten into the same secondary school; he talks about their trips to find Rantaro’s sisters, about his first kiss, about the one time they succeeded and brought Rina home; he finds himself smiling bitterly as he goes onto talking about how Rantaro had died saving Rina in the bus crash, laughing briefly at how he shut himself in, and he tells his godson about how he found his closure. But most of all, he talks about Rantaro as a person, and as he talks he sees his best friend in his mind, with his comforting smile, the constant sadness present in his pretty lemongrass eyes, his windswept, tousled hair, and how he was always so selfless and kind and caring. He finds himself unable to stop a tear from rolling down his cheek as he tells small Rantaro how his namesake cared for his sisters, for everyone around him, and tiny Rantaro listens attentively, engrossed in Shuichi’s stories.

“He died so your mother, and you, could live,” Shuichi tells the boy. “He’d be so happy to see you living today, he’s probably smiling down at you and watching everything you do. He’s always with me, and he’s always with you.”

Rantaro (the young boy, that is) is silent for a moment, and then he says, “why’s the ending so sad?”

Shuichi’s caught off guard, “Huh?”

“Why couldn’t Uncle Rantaro have lived?” the boy asks. “Why did he have to die in the end and make everyone so sad? Why can’t he and you just, I don’t know, live happily ever after?”

Shuichi laughs a little as he pats his godson on the head lightly. “Rantaro, but it is a happy ending.”

The three year old tilts his head, confused, “But he died! You were so upset, and Oka-san was upset, and everyone was sad over it…”

“Happy endings come in all shapes and sizes,” Shuichi says quietly. “Rantaro may have died and left us, but he died protecting his sister, one of the people he loved most. He died protecting your mother, and you, and he achieved his purpose perfectly- look, you and your mother are leading a life that’s full of happiness, see? Your Uncle Rantaro would’ve been so happy if he was here now. Besides, his greatest wish was to find all his sisters, and even if he died before he could see everyone back, they’re all safe and sound now, aren’t they? His death isn’t the end of the story, just the part that shocked everyone, the plot twist that makes the story worth reading. We’re living out the end of the story now. We’re living out his happy ending.”

Shuichi touches the sea glass around his neck. He doesn’t need it anymore, not now, for now, he’s finally letting go, letting the guilt and grief and everything stay in the past. His memories of him are dear, and are important to Shuichi, but Shuichi now knows, now realizes, that he doesn’t need the sea glass to prove to him that Rantaro is there with him.

Because Rantaro isn’t only in the sea glass. He’s everywhere, in his sisters’ smiles and laughter, he’s there in Shuichi’s happiness and there to guide him when times are rough. Rantaro is in his heart, a lamp to guide his way in the dark, the path of moonlight on the sea so Shuichi can pass through safely. Rantaro is there with Shuichi no matter what.

He hesitates, and then unfastens the necklace around his neck. Reaching out to take his godson’s hand, he puts it there and closes his hand gently. “Take this, Rantaro. It belonged to your uncle, to someone I loved very much, and when I was wearing it, I felt his presence with me, and it comforted me and gave me strength when I needed it. But now, it’s time to pass this on. Put it on, and your uncle will always be with you, and he’ll guide your path when you need help, and you’ll never be alone. Remember, when you touch this, that you aren’t alone, and you have me, and your mother and father, and all your aunts.”

Rantaro looks at the necklace, seemingly touched, and he looks up at Shuichi. “Could you help me put it on?” he murmurs, and Shuichi smiles, taking it and easily clasping it around Rantaro’s neck.

“Now go to sleep,” he tells his godson, who smiles and nods.

He stays there after he turns the lights off, watches his godson drift off into the land of dreams, and places his hand over where the sea glass used to be. It feels strangely empty, without the necklace he’d worn for years, but Shuichi’s no longer afraid of the dark. 

“You’re much braver than I remembered,” a voice whispers from the doorway, and Shuichi turns to see Kaede standing there with a smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, and Rantaro would be, too.”

Shuichi stands, and walks out to meet Kaede. They stand on the balcony, overlooking Rantaro’s sisters living out the childhood they lost with each other. “I’m just doing what Rantaro would’ve wanted me to do,” he says. “I’ve found all of his sisters, brought them all home, finished his last wish. Rantaro wouldn’t have wanted me to be stuck in the past, or to never move on after his death. He’d want me to live his ‘happily ever after’ for him, and that’s what I'm doing now.”

Kaede laughs. “And to think that this is the same person who yelled at me when I tried to get him to move on all those years ago,” she teases him. 

“Hey! I was busy being traumatized back then!” he protests, and Kaede ruffles his hair as he ducks away, laughing.

He looks out over the handrails again, and can’t help but smile at the sight of Rantaro’s sisters- his sisters- as they mingle, and live, and write out their own happy endings. They were all once lost, torn apart by fate, but they all rewrote their destinies and managed to reunite.

Now, it’s Shuichi’s turn to rewrite his destiny, to live out his happy ending for Rantaro. He touches the spot where the necklace used to be again, and smiles,

and knows in his heart that Rantaro will always watch over him.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa fanfiction #rantaro amami #shuichi saihara #rantaro x shuichi #amasai #amasai week 2020 #silveryyyy's fanfiction

[skyflicker]

black coffee, no sugar (amasai week day two)

written for @amasaiweek2020, hosted by @toxicisnotapineapple and @storyflight! this is worse than the one yesterday i’m sorry i think i lost my touch lol,,, but i had to write this in a day so... anyways this is in the same universe as sea glass, and i really hope you guys enjoy it and all even if it’s not that good?

this also turned out much, much longer that i thought it would, and also got,,, way too angsty it was supposed to be fluffy but nevermind i suck at that :) enjoy!

-

Rantaro isn’t a stranger to hospitals. 

True, he’s not really the type of child to get hurt every other day- he has a knack for dealing with dangerous situations, and almost never gets injured, but some of his sisters are rather careless especially when they get passionate (Riku, especially, is prone to a lot of accidents, with how she bounces everywhere with such spirited bursts of fire), and he often finds himself there to support them.

But rarely does he find himself in such a bad spot that he has to visit the hospital. He isn’t even really hurt physically- he’d only hit his head a little, but the police had insisted on taking him here to get checked over by the doctor. 

The hospital is such a blinding alabaster that Rantaro flinches every time he blinks. It’s so quiet, too, so silent that he can hear clearly every buzz and tremble of the air conditioner. It feels creepy, in a way, and it’s even more obvious being completely alone here in this room. He feels the shivers running down his spine as he waits for the doctor to return.

He’s never been alone in the hospital before, not without at least one member of his family with him. After all, he has one biological mother, three other stepmothers, and twelve sisters, although admittedly most are missing, but no matter what had happened, there would always be at least one person by his side. It’s not that he doesn’t like the silence, he loves being alone, but at a time like this, he would give anything for any of his sisters to be here for him. 

(He still misses them every day: each and every of them was so special to him, the brightest stars in his night, the brightest blossoms in his gardens. He remembers every detail of each of the nine girls that have gone missing so vividly, as if it were burnt and imprinted onto his eyelids- Amaka’s fierce protectivity when things went wrong, Hanako’s vibrant liveliness when she was passionate, Ena’s composed calmness that always soothed him easily, Naoko’s energetic laughter when she led her sisters in activities, Akari’s wide smile that she constantly wore on her face, Rina’s tender, seamless care towards everyone she met, Yuki’s quiet thoughtfulness and curiosity towards everything she saw, Inori’s soft touch as her arms wrapped around Rantaro, Minori’s sweet innocence towards everyone… he misses them all dearly.) 

But it’s not something he could control. His father nearly killed a child, after all. They told him, after the interrogation and taking Rantaro’s testimony in this small room, that he could see his sisters and mothers again when the doctor had finished examining him and had given him a pass. After the numerous tests the medical team had run on him, they’d all disappeared, leaving Rantaro here alone, with the images of the boy (probably around his age, give or take a few months, which isn’t really saying much since Rantaro himself is only twelve and a half, but still. Rantaro has this thing, where he can’t help but feel a brotherly attachment to people younger than him) hit by the car, his father’s car, and he can’t help but feel the fear growing like crystal spikes in a chemical solution, in his heart, and feel the ice run down his spine. 

It’s just like there’s a ghost just behind him, berating him for not stopping his father in time, that it’s partly his fault, and truth be told, Rantaro knows that really well. The car was only driving along that road because they’d only just lost Amaka in Liechtenstein, and she was the one sister Rantaro could rely on and truly lean on for support when he couldn’t say anything to the others out of guilt for making them worry (maybe because she’s only a few months younger, and he feels less guilt for piling his burdens onto her?), and Rantaro had been really crushed over her loss, and his father had offered to take him along for a business outing to cheer him up, maybe just a little. His father had had to take a detour because of this, and this had happened as a result.

He wonders if the boy is alright. Rantaro still feels like he’s back in time, sitting shotgun in his father’s limo, staring at the unconscious body sprawled across the pavement. He feels as if the moment had frozen, and he was still there, watching his father freeze and do nothing. He feels himself move on instinct, grabbing his backpack, which fortunately still held first aid materials from his previous trip, harshly unlocking the door and kicking it open. It’s as if his body is on autopilot as he runs over to the boy’s side, ignoring the crimson colour flooding out and staining the pavement, like an infant’s grubby fingers spreading finger paint all over their canvas, running like rivers sliding through the slits between the tiny grey stones that padded the road so uniformly, like the life slipping out of the boy through the blood away from him.

The sanguine bleeds everywhere, weaving between the boy’s fingers and matting his midnight-coloured hair. In the twilight, the boy’s silhouette is coated with a sheen of warm muted periwinkle, rimmed in golden light from the sun that’s almost completely set, and it would be such a beautiful sight if not for the fact that Rantaro knows the boy can and will die if he doesn’t hurry. Rantaro kneels, not caring that the sticky liquid is soaking through his jeans, or that the stones are rough and brushes harshly against his knees, and takes the boy’s hand. It’s soft and his wrist is so small, he’s reminded of his sisters, but he brushes that thought away and takes his pulse. He sighs in complete relief as he detects one, and he lets one of his hands hover over the boy to find the wound, as he rummages through his bag to find his phone and call the ambulance. 

All this, though, is stopped, as his hand flits over his nose and feels the weak breathing. He’s so shocked and concerned all of a sudden that he nearly drops the phone in the middle of giving the address. He hastily finishes the call, and immediately goes to measure the breathing. It’s so weak, and he puts his hand on the boy’s lungs, immediately finding the huge wound spanning from his lungs to his upper torso. It’s probably deep, too. Rantaro can feel the fear and worry spike in his chest, he barely knows this kid but he doesn’t want him to die. He feels the suffocating helplessness, he doesn’t know what to do, and he desperately wants to help but he can’t and that seems like the greatest punishment of all, worse than dying himself- watching an innocent bystander, a mere child, die by his mistake, having innocent blood on his hands. With no other choice left, he inhales, and leans down to try applying CPR-

He opens his eyes as he screams until his throat is dry and parched, and it feels raw and exposed, but nothing can tear the images off his mind. He gasps and gasps for breath, as if the guilt formed a rope and was strangling him as he was off in his reverie, rubbing his eyes as they focus, and he’s still in the overwhelmingly bright hospital room, has been all along, and the pavement stained with cardinal is gone, in the past. He screams, and screams, but no one comes, and he only feels worse that he did.

He inhales, and he realizes that he’s been crying, the tears streaming past his cheeks. He doesn’t even know if the kid is alive, let alone alright. 

He hears the door slam open, and the light blue curtains (which were even more unsettlingly bright than the walls, if that was even possible- it’s like those kinds of blue that brightens white even more, like freshly fallen snow) were grabbed and pushed open with urgency. It’s the nurse who came to take his tests- Mikan Tsumiki-san, Rantaro remembers from previously looking at her name tag. She breathes deeply in complete relief when she sees Rantaro safe and unhurt, and her lavender eyes are so round and filled with fear that Rantaro instantly feels bad for alerting and scaring her.

“A-Amami-kun!” she exclaims, obviously shaken. “Are you alright? Y- you look-” she cuts herself off, and Rantaro realizes he must look really distraught, with tear tracks over his face and wide eyes full of distress. He nods, forcing a smile on his face, swiping at his face in an attempt to destroy all evidence of him crying.

The young nurse hands him a tissue wordlessly- she must’ve had a lot of experience with people like this, and he murmurs his thanks as he cleans his face. “Dr. Kamakura’s f-finished with your tests,” Mikan says, stuttering as she fumbles with the records she holds in her hand, “you’re clear and free to leave now. Your two sisters are waiting outside?”

“Two?” Rantaro asks in surprise immediately, faltering as Mikan seems to get nervous, “No, it’s okay, you probably didn’t count wrongly, maybe one’s just too busy to come around…”

He doesn’t blame them, either. He didn’t expect any of them to show up, close as he is with all of them, seeing as they’ve just lost another sibling- Sora’s own biological sister, no less- so he’s already pleasantly surprised. He smiles faintly at Mikan out of politeness, nods along as she talks him through all the procedures, tells him his father is at the police station. 

“Tsumiki-san?” he asks when she’s finished. “How’s the other boy? The one my father hit?”

The nurse looks rather surprised, “ Saihara-kun? H- he’s okay! The surgery was successful, and since he’s only eleven, and a child’s body has a quicker rate of mending itself, he’ll recover pretty soon! He’s still here for now, though, will be for the next month or so.”

Rantaro feels the relief spreading through his body. “That’s great,” he whispers. He thanks Mikan again before leaving, and soon enough he finds himself down the corridor to the main waiting lobby. The walls are painted a muted ivory, which soothes Rantaro’s eyes a little, despite still being white, and the wooden floorboards are a gorgeous light beige. It’s very clean, like one would expect in a hospital, but it’s still so.... Empty. Maybe people don’t really come along this side of the building, but Rantaro still finds it mildly unnerving.

He reaches the end of the hallway, and pushes open the door. His gaze immediately spots Riku, who sits quietly (what a contrast to her normal bubbly attitude) in one of the sofas in the corner of the lobby. He’s suddenly hit with a pang of emotion, as the image of a young girl, looking identical to Riku in every way except for her long hair when Riku keeps hers short, sitting in the exact same spot, quietly sitting still, but her cerulean eyes hold nothing but worry and concern and fear. He’s unable to stop a tear from rolling down his cheek as in his mind, five-year-old Rina does the same, her tiny hands trembling as they’re clasped on her knees. The image of her, her gorgeous azure eyes earnest and kind with the world in them, her long golden blonde hair like strands of sunlight woven into silk, pulled into her braid that Rantaro did for her every morning, her tiny feet tapping the air (she’s not tall enough for her feet to reach the ground) restlessly out of worry- he cannot unsee the young girl in her twin, even though they’re complete opposites. Where Riku is lively and spirited, Rina is quiet, but she had more kindness and sympathy in her tiny finger than most people had, like how Riku has more energy and laughter in hers than probably the whole world does. (except for maybe Naoko- that girl did nothing but laugh.)

Every time Riku had gotten into an accident, Rina had been there waiting for her without fail. The two were inseparable, two halves that complete each other perfectly, and they loved each other so much. It had completely broken Riku a year ago when Rina went missing in New Zealand that Riku had stopped being so reckless and while Rantaro was glad his sister didn’t get hurt so much anymore, it was disheartening and distressing to watch her of all people so utterly void of life.

He pushes the thought away, puts on his mask of smiles again, and heads towards his sisters. Shiori sits next to Riku, with her arm around the younger girl, whispering comforting things into her ear. Her light brown hair cascaded in curls down her back and draped over Riku’s shoulder, and her attention was completely focused on Riku. 

It’s Riku who spots him first, squealing and leaping to her feet, bouncing over to wrap her arms around Rantaro, “Rantaro! We were worried sick! Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

He laughs, “I’m alright, Riku, Shiori. Don’t worry.” It feels so good to have the comfort of his sisters with him. They’re his lifeline, his whole world, no matter what.

Shiori offers him a smile. “I’m glad. Sora was asleep when we received the news, which is why she isn’t here, but if she could I’m sure she’d be here without a single second of hesitation.” Rantaro realizes as his stomach sinks that Shiori has picked up on his distress and probably deduced why. Despite being only nine, Shiori is intuitive. Really intuitive. She’s clever, and picks up on emotions as easily as one completes the math question one plus one. It’s also why, despite being a middle child, she still has such a large presence in the house- Shiori simply cannot help but help everyone at every chance she gets, a trait she passed onto her younger biological sister, Inori. 

He grimaces slightly, and pushes away the thought of his second youngest sister. He can’t help but constantly think of his sisters, whenever he sees anything that might be remotely related to them. It’s something that constantly haunts him, a failure that he’s forced to live with. If only I hadn’t lost them at all…

Shoot. He completely forgot about Shiori, and he looks at her, dismayed, only to see her narrowing her eyes at him. She’s definitely caught on, considering that he confided in her more than once over this issue. (he’s not the type to keep things from his sisters, even though he tries not to stress them out as much as he can.) She walks closer, and hugs him once Riku releases him, whispering in his ear, “Rina and Inori would be relieved if they were here too. It’s not your fault,” before she pulls away and picks up RIku. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“You two go first,” Rantaro says, and his voice cracks as he thinks of the boy, hurting and aching as he sleeps. He feels the guilt drop into his stomach as he realizes that he’s happy and relieved while the boy is hurting because of him. “There’s something I have to check. Shiori, take care of Riku?”

Understanding flashes across Shiori’s face. “Alright. See you in the morning?” she searches his face, asking for an unspoken promise.

He nods. “See you in the morning.” Non-verbally, he promises his sister that he’ll come back, he’ll always come back.

He watches them leave until the shadows they leave behind are gone, then turns and runs to the counter urgently, “excuse me? May I ask where, uh,” he tries to recall the name Mikan told him, “Sa- Saihara-kun? I think? Is staying?”

The nurse at the counter looks mildly surprised, but after a brief explanation, Rantaro’s being led down countless corridors of white, to what probably is another side of the building. They reach a door, and the nurse pushes it open. He follows her out into the cool night air, the breeze immediately nestling into his hair and tousling it. In the night, the bright full moon hangs in the sky, glowing, and he wonders if his other sisters are also looking at the same night sky, looking up at the moon, across the world. 

He didn’t realize it was so late- that explains why there weren’t any people at all. The wind whistles in the air, winding around him, gentle and yet cold and sharp. It reminds him of Hanako and Ena, lost at the same time. They were lost unto the dark night, the cold and unforgiving, cruel span of darkness that covered half of the earth each night, and covered Rantaro’s whole world that one cold night in China. He wonders if they’re alright, if they’re adjusting to living in a communist country, a place where freedom is restricted and locked away in an unbreakable iron cell that will never see the light of day, a place with the life squeezed and pushed out of it, every single day dull and unmotivated. 

He’s led across the hospital gardens, into another wing of the hospital (apparently, it’s much bigger than he expected or anticipated it to be), and up a couple of floors. FInally, he’s led to a waiting room outside a single-patient hospital room. The waiting room is small, with a single sofa and a small coffee table, and the wall connected to the corridor is made of transparent glass.

“Visiting hours are over,” the nurse says, “but i can let you have a glimpse of him before you leave.” she goes to open the door, but Rantaro stops her, smiling politely when he looks at her. He’s not so rude to just leave, not when this child is injured because of him. 

“It’s okay, thank you,” he tells the nurse, “I’ll just stay here until I’m allowed in.”

The nurse tries to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t budge, and soon the nurse gives up and slips out of the door. She comes back after a few minutes, though, and she wordlessly puts down a cup of hot chocolate and a few biscuits, smiles at him, and leaves again after Rantaro thanks her profusely.

Rantaro sits down on the sofa, and opens his backpack to bring out a couple of books- he has a habit of always carrying around a few in case things happen and he’s left with time to spare. He opens one, and he begins to read, immersed in his books until morning.

He doesn’t even know it’s morning until he hears the door open again. He looks up, expecting to find a nurse, or maybe a doctor, but instead, he’s met with a boy his age, purple-haired with deep indigo eyes, and a girl behind him with long obsidian hair braided and falling to her waist, with vivid sanguine eyes. His eyes widen at the same time theirs do as he recognizes the girl.

“Maki,” he exclaims at the same time the girl says his name. Surprise fills him- he hadn’t seen his childhood friend since his sisters- specifically, Akari- first started going missing and they’d moved away, but when he was much younger and had all his sisters with him, Yuki liked going to the orphanage next door and helping out there, playing with the children her age. It was there he met Maki, the only girl his age there, and they became close friends almost instantly. They’d completely lost contact when Rantaro moved, though.

The boy looks between them, bewildered, “Harumaki, you know this boy?”

Maki sighs, and nods, launching into a short explanation, then introducing the boy as “an idiot, Kaito Momota”, and the boy, Kaito, interjects, claiming to be the ‘Luminary of the Stars’. Maki doesn’t seem to be amused by this, and glares at him as her cheeks redden, but Rantaro can tell even after all these years that there’s no malice behind her ruby eyes.

Rantaro, though, is rather amused, “Rantaro Amami,” he introduces himself, extending a hand that Kaito takes and shakes without hesitation. “I stayed here overnight so I could apologize. For, uh. My father ran over that guy inside with his car.”

Maki stares at him. “Your father. The extremely rich guy. Ran over him.” she points at the door to the hospital room.

He sheepishly nods. “Yea. And I, uh, may or may not have felt guilty, so I stayed here.” he feels vaguely uncomfortable with both Kaito (who Maki obviously likes) and Maki herself staring at him, but he knows he deserves it.

At last, Maki walks forward, and slaps him hard. “That one,” she says, “is for Shuichi. My friend whom your father ran over.” Rantaro stays still, not saying anything even if his left cheek stings and hurts, because he knows he deserves it, when he caused so much pain and worry.

She backhands him across the face again, and this time he sees the reluctance in her face, the concern her eyes are so full of, and he knows that for the emotionless facade she puts up, she’s genuinely really worried for her friend and him. “And that’s because you’re being stupid,” she whispers, and Rantaro feels as if he’s about to cry, again, because he’s missed Maki so much and he’s touched, that she still cares for him after all those years. Proud, that she’s finally expressing herself more openly. The old Maki would’ve been too scared to even show the slightest bit of emotion, so anxious and scared of being hated by the world. As an orphan, Maki’s always carried around the knowledge that even her own parents don’t want her, that she’s so unlikeable that she deserves to be alone and abandoned in the dark, and she was always too scared to befriend the others in the orphanage. Rantaro was her first friend, and she must have felt very hurt when the boy had moved so suddenly without warning.

He feels guilty, guilty for leaving Maki alone to furl up and cry all alone, but he feels so much pride, with the way she’s finally comfortable in her own skin, that she’s made friends with other kids their age. He smiles at her despite how his cheeks are stinging badly with eyes brimming with tears as Maki steps back, and she smiles back at him. “Visiting hours started,” she says finally, “you really should check the time, you idiot. It’s half past nine in the morning.”

Rantaro laughs, “thanks for the reminder.” he turns to push the door open, but steps back, looking at Kaito and Maki. “You should go in first. He doesn’t know me, after all.”

Maki nods, and Kaito practically breaks the door down as it bursts open and he races in, followed by the girl, and Rantaro last.

The room the boy is staying in is bright, but not lit by artificial lighting- early morning sunlight shines in through a large window on the other side of the room. Glass fractures the light into a thousand different rays, coating the room in an almost ethereal glow. There’s a tree right outside the window, and Rantaro can see a few sparrows resting on the branches. It reminds him of Minori, his youngest sister, who’d loved animals and nature, but she especially loved sparrows, loved how they were small but so adorable, and yearned to spread her wings and take flight like they did. 

The room itself is clean and mostly empty, creating a spacious feeling as one enters. A cupboard lies to the side of the hospital bed, and there’s a movable desk in front of the boy, who’s sitting up when they arrive. His face brightens as he greets his two friends with a strained smile- probably due to the stitches and the pain, Rantaro thinks, and feels the guilt in his heart weighing it down again.

He notices with a start that the boy is actually really pretty. Rantaro normally identifies as asexual, no sexual attraction, be he can’t not admit that with his long eyelashes and curious green-grey eyes, the boy is adorable, and he finds his eyes widening and that he can’t take his eyes off the boy.

The boy’s face goes on alert mode when he sees Rantaro, though. “Ah, who are you? Why are you here?” he seems so scared, so shy, that Rantaro immediately feels the guilt double.

Rantaro hesitates, but he introduces himself. “I’m Rantaro Amami. I’m here because, well- my father kind of ran over you. With his car. I’m here to apologize and see if you’re alright.” he wishes with all his might that he’d forgive him, for causing so much misery. So much pain.

It’s the boy’s turn to widen his eyes, and he almost drops the cup he’s holding. “Wait, you- you’re the one the doctor talked about? You gave me CPR, right?” all traces of his former shyness is gone as he stares, shocked, at Rantaro.

Kaito and Maki’s gazes immediately snap to Rantaro, and he reddens under all the attention he’s being given. “Y- yes, but I did what I thought I should do, it’s my fault it happened, I hope you aren’t hurt that bad-”

Maki cuts him off, scoffing, but she wears a small smile on her face, “Don’t be an idiot, Taro,” she says, and Rantaro smiles at the use of the childhood nickname, “it isn’t your fault and you know it. Your father was the one who ran over Shuichi. It was an accident.” she shrugs. “Those happen all the time. It’s really nothing to feel guilty about.” She turns to Shuichi. “This idiot stayed here without sleeping all night, because he wanted to apologize.”

The boy nods feverently, shock still evident in his eyes. “You saved my life,” he adds. “The doctor told me if you hadn’t saved me and bandaged my wounds to stop the bleeding in time I would’ve bled to death. Maki’s right, don’t apologize.”

Rantaro smiles faintly at him. “How can I make it up to you, though? Can I, like, get you a drink or something, at least?”

The boy’s eyes light up at once, and Rantaro finds himself smiling wider, genuinely. “Could you get me a coffee, please? Black coffee, no sugar.”

Kaito laughs as Rantaro looks at the boy, surprised. “Coffee? Right after your surgery?”

The boy suddenly seems very defensive, “Researches show it’s actually beneficial? It can shake off the woozy aftereffects of whatever drugs administered, boost my alertness, help with constipatio-”

“Right,” Rantaro laughs fully for the first time since the accident, “got it. Why such… bitter coffee, though?”

It’s Kaito that answers this time, a grin hanging on his face, “Shuichi only drinks bitter coffee. My sidekick can’t stand things that are too sweet!” The boy nods in agreement, and Rantaro’s heart warms. 

Before he leaves to get the coffee, though, he turns back and asks, “oh, and before I go, your name…”

The boy smiles, “It’s Shuichi Saihara.”

The name stays with Rantaro as he runs to get the coffee from a nearby local coffee shop he really likes. A lovely name for a lovely boy. The smile Rantaro gets from Shuichi as he hands him the lukewarm coffee, still out of breath, is stunning and to Rantaro, it’s so sweet and beautiful that it’s warmer than any sunlight the sun can give, and prettier than even the most gorgeous nature phenomenon. He goes on to visit Shuichi every day, staying for hours and hours on end, bringing a black coffee sans sugar with him every time, and the smile Shuichi gives him every time makes his day. They grow closer, and closer, and by the time the other boy is released from the hospital, they’ve become best friends. 

On the last day of Shuichi staying in the hospital, he hands Shuichi the usual coffee, and Shuichi’s smile sends butterflies into his stomach and a blush to his cheeks. Shuichi grabs his hand as he says thank you, and the other boy’s hand is so cold and small, but Rantaro feels as though everything is right in the world, and for the first time ever since his sisters went missing he feels genuinely happy.

When Shuichi’s released, he takes him to the coffee shop in person, and Shuichi’s curious eyes eagerly explore every detail of the warm cozy building. The series of actions lights up his world, and Rantaro smiles, and he doesn’t miss the grateful one on Shuichi’s face- sweet as the sugar he hates so much.

(it’s only when Rantaro is gone, and Kaede unknowingly passes him for the first time a black coffee without sugar from the same shop that she got for him on her way back from work, that Shuichi thinks back on all this, and cries.)

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa fanfiction #amasai #amasai week 2020 #i'm really really sorry i tried #silveryyyy's fanfiction

[skyflicker]

precious (amasai week day five)

written for @amasaiweek2020 hosted by @storyflight and @toxicisnotapineapple and for some reason tags aren't working but,,,

anyways i'm back with more angst yay and this isn't as good as the others imo bc it's very very very rushed but i still hope y'all enjoy it!

-

Mornings in Switzerland are always so serene.

Shuichi likes standing on the porch of the small wooden cottage he’s currently staying in in the mornings, and watching the country wake up. It starts with the rays of golden light shooting across the horizon and bathing the entire town in a soft sheen of delicate coral, and from where he stands, he can see the small boats start moving across the lake, creating ripples in the perfectly still mirror, and the shops start opening gradually, turning on their lights one by one. The soft morning sunlight dances upon the meadows dotted around Interlaken, twirling on every flower, leaping from leaf to leaf, encircling around the stems, and as the Swiss people start pouring out onto the street, he can see them stop every other second to greet their neighbours. Even the sun seems to beam at the small town, at its friendliness and politeness, as it sends its soft sunbeams to warm the cardinal rooftops and brighten the alabaster walls of the small houses lining the cobblestone pavements. It’s quiet, and wholesome, and very new to Shuichi, who’s almost lived in the city all his life.

Interlaken was one of Rantaro’s favourite places to travel to when he was alive. He’d only taken Shuichi here once, but there was a certain lightness about him when he was here. There’s just a certain tranquility about this place that makes people feel relaxed, a sort of… thoughtful quietness that makes it really appealing and wonderful. If it weren’t for the fact that Rantaro had lost a sister here, Shuichi thinks to himself, laughing a little, the guy would’ve probably adored this place so much he’d have moved here after graduation. The place was just completely impossible to hate.

His laugh is cut short, though, as he realizes that Rantaro never actually made it through to graduation, that he never even made it out to the world he so deserved a place in. Shuichi smiles bitterly as he’s struck with longing, and slight grief- even six years after Rantaro’s death back when they were both seventeen, he’s still not really over his first love, but the pain has dulled over time. He’s accepted it, in a way, and he’s moving on, but he’s not ready to let go. His hands automatically fly to the necklace he still wears around his neck at all times, smiling faintly in relief as his fingers find the cool, smooth surface of the sea glass, and swipes at his eyes as he feels the tears come to his eyes. He misses his best friend so much, misses him every single day, but at least, now he knows his friend will always be with him even in death. The constant coolness of the sea glass’ surface almost feels like the green haired boy’s ghostly touch, and Shuichi looks towards the horizon, where the sun continues to paint its canvas with soft creamy watercolours, brushing thin layers of yellows and pinks and lilacs across a world of fluffy cloud pillows rimmed with silvery light, where he sees his friend smiling at him in encouragement in his mind.

“Shuichi-kun?” The man turns around, and standing at the door of the cottage is a familiar girl, dressed in casual t-shirt and jeans, and dragging her backpack behind her. Her long navy locks are swept into a braid, and a daisy is woven into her hair, and Shuichi can’t help but think of how Rantaro used to braid Rina’s hair in the exact same intricate way.

“Amaka,” he greets his best friend’s eldest sister, as she makes her way over to him. Amaka isn’t that much younger than he or the late Rantaro- only a month or two younger, actually- and she seems to act like a responsible, protective mother to Rantaro’s sisters (the ones who have been found, at least. Shuichi’s spent three years looking, sometimes accompanied by Rina, and he’s found five of them for Rantaro, but he won’t stop looking, won’t rest or pause, not until he finds all of them and brings them to their brother, the brother who longed to reunite all of them for his entire life). “You’re up early today.”

Amaka stares outside, but not at the town- she’s looking at the forest, the forest that is their destination every day. It leads right into the Alps, and Shuichi and Amaka have been here for a month, searching every inch of the forest and the mountains beyond it, hoping desperately for a single clue, a single shred of evidence that might, just might, lead them to the treasure they’re looking for. “Thought we could start earlier today. Might have more of a chance of finding Naoko.”

They’re here to find her, the girl Rantaro always described as someone who laughed so much he knew no one else who could match her in laughter, to bring her home, and Shuichi vows not to go anywhere until they’ve found her.

Shuichi finds himself in these trips, finds purpose as he searches and brings home the Amami siblings, tries to finish his friend, his lover’s last wish. He isn’t as resilient as Rantaro, isn’t even half as talented at adventuring as the boy is, but he’s determined to finish this mission no matter what.

He just hopes he finds all of them in time.

    Rantaro follows the trail steadily as if he’s walked the path a million different times before. Shuichi watches as the lemongrass eyes travel over the countless trees, the piles of fallen autumn leaves littered all over the forest floor. His eyes miss nothing, not even the smallest detail, and it’s mesmerizing to Shuichi. Rantaro’s in his element when he searches and adventures, and it’s clear in the way he concentrates and focuses, with eagerness in his eyes, and despite the fact that they’re searching for a lost sister of his, for someone he loved very much that was lost long ago, there’s a faint smile hanging on Rantaro’s face.

He stops, though, at one point, deep into the woods, and he stares at the area as his expression completely changes, with a wistfulness that breaks Shuichi’s heart. Rantaro looks back at him, and he can tell, as their eyes meet, the utter misery in Rantaro’s eyes as tears threaten to fall from them. He almost gives in to his compulsiveness and goes to hug him, but restrains himself, knowing that Rantaro may not want the other boy touching him.

“This is where we realized Naoko wasn’t with us,” Rantaro says, and swipes at his eyes as he fails to stop the tears from falling down, but his lower lip is quivering slightly, and Shuichi knows he’s definitely going to cry. “We looked, and looked, but we just, we never found her.”

It’s so much weight, Shuichi thinks bitterly, for a fourteen-year-old boy to carry- so much grief and pain forced onto Rantaro, for him to carry. Rantaro is strong, strong in a way Shuichi could never be, in carrying the pain and loss of his sisters around with him, and still is able to smile at other people and comfort them so well, is able to manage the pain so well that no one notices until he tells them, is strong enough to be able to face the trauma and confide in other people, expose his weaknesses to people he trusts, which is never easy.

He looks back at the trail behind him, and sees in his mind, the broken family travelling along the path, smiling despite all that they’ve lost. He sees them panic as they realize one of them is missing, watches as Rantaro’s mother (Naoko is one of his biological sisters, even if they don’t share the same green hair colour) wails in distress and his father head over to comfort her, watches as Rantaro and Amaka share a glance and instantly run back along the trail they came from, only to return after a while with gloomy and pained expressions.

Shuichi walks over, putting a hand tentatively on Rantaro’s shoulder, and when the latter boy doesn’t flinch from his touch, Shuichi takes his hands. “We’ll find her,” he reassures the younger boy quietly, “we’ll find Naoko, and everyone else. One day, you’ll see your family together again. I promise.”

    Golden light filters through the gaps in the trees overhead and projects onto the forest floor, fading in and out through the light mist that shrouds the forest, small sparks of gold fluttering in the hazy light. The sunlight slants down the sides of the trees, wrapping and entwining around the tree trunks, giving the trunks that weaved in and out of the ground a rosy sheen. A thick carpet of viridescent grass spreads across the forest floor, and small white blossoms are splayed around the clearing, the randomness bringing out how completely natural the landscape is.

There isn’t a marked pathway through the forest, but Amaka, who was there when Naoko was lost and is unable to erase the traumatizing memories from her mind, remembers the exact way the family had woven through the thick mass of greenery all those years ago, and Shuichi had followed her through the thicket for so many days, he’d memorized the route by now, knows the way back on track even if he wanders off to take a look at something, knows exactly the path out of the forest.

So, when they reach the woods, Shuichi doesn’t hesitate to suggest that they search individually and meet up back at their rented cottage when it gets dark, and Amaka doesn’t hesitate to agree, immediately diverging into another trail and disappearing into the fog. He watches until her shadow vanishes into the woods, and then heads down another pathway through the forest.

He can’t help but remember the first time he’d come here. Rantaro, not Amaka, had led the way then, taking Shuichi around the forest, searching relentlessly. Rantaro had broken down when they reached the point where they’d lost Naoko, and Shuichi had promised they’d find her no matter what. They hadn’t found the girl that time, but Shuichi is determined this time, he will find Naoko, and bring her home.

Even though it’s summer, not autumn this time, Shuichi would never mistake this forest, this trail, for another. Despite the colour change, it still looks almost exactly the same, just that emerald has substituted for the oranges and browns that painted the forest nine years ago. Everywhere he looks, he can see Rantaro, bending over to look at footprints he found in the ground, or inspecting things he noticed around, or even just turning back at Shuichi and smiling faintly in encouragement despite Rantaro’s own distress. God, he misses his best friend so much.

But what happens next is not something he expects. One second, he is alone on the path, and the next moment, he’s being grabbed by someone, and he cries out as he’s forced onto his knees as another person near him yells out and more people swarm out from behind the trees. Kidnappers.

“Amaka!” he calls out desperately, hoping his companion would hear him, but there’s no response, and he calls again, louder this time, but something is stuffed in his mouth and someone puts a sack over his head and his backpack is snatched from his back, and he tries to scream, but to no avail.

He wonders briefly if this is what happened to Naoko. Maybe she dragged behind to look at something, and got kidnapped just like this. He wonders how Amaka will react when she finds out that her travel companion, her late brother’s best friend, is nowhere to be found. They’d grown quite close over the course of looking for Naoko, and he dreads the thought of her being distraught over his disappearance. He thinks of Rantaro, of what he’ll think of this whole ordeal. He hopes, even prays, like Rantaro once told him Inori did, that he wouldn’t be too worried over Shuichi.

He can’t see anything, can’t understand anything the people carrying him are saying- he doesn’t speak German or French or Italian. He struggles, and he feels the necklace still around his neck, the gem cool over his heart, and feels a little relieved that his treasure, his most precious belonging, is still with him.

That is, until something hits him in the gut, and everything goes black.

    When he comes to his senses, he is in a small white room, tied up against the wall, his hands bound together. The chamber has no windows, no openings. He feels the fear and worry pounding in his heart, feels the dread settle in his stomach.

In front of him are five people- five strangers. Four are bulky, armed men, in camouflage clothes, seemingly very strong and armed- if Shuichi were to guess an occupation had he met them elsewhere, he would have thought they were arm wrestlers- one of them is guarding the door while two are sitting in front of him, the last one next to him. A younger girl stands to the side of the room, in normal T-shirt and jeans, not unlike the attire Amaka picked out this morning. The girl’s upper face is covered by a white mask, but Shuichi can see that she has fair skin, with light chestnut brown hair tied into a ponytail (he’s reminded of an upperclassmen of his and Rantaro’s back in high school, Makoto Naegi. He had the exact same shade of hair colour).

One of the men in front of him says something in what Shuichi assumes is German. Not knowing what to do, he splutters in english, “I- I don’t speak German-?”

The men all look confused for a second and start to argue, until the girl speaks. Her voice is quiet, but it’s melodic, and Shuichi thinks to himself that her laugh would sound absolutely beautiful- if she laughed at all, that is. Her expression seems so stoic.

Just thinking about laughter leads his train of thought to Naoko. He prays to whatever deity is out there, that Amaka would find her sister, even if he’s not there to share in the burden, and can take Naoko home. He’s never met Naoko- he’s only ever met Shiori, Sora, Riku and Rina before Rantaro’s untimely demise, but he’s seen enough pictures of the girl to know her on sight.

The masked girl first says something Shuichi doesn’t understand to the men, then turns to Shuichi. “I’m sorry,” she says in perfect English, to his shock., “we didn’t realize you didn’t speak the language. Where are you from and why were you in our territory?”

He hesitates for a bit, then says, in halting English (Rantaro was always the better one at languages out of the two of them), “I’m Shuichi Saihara. I, uh, come from Japan. I’m looking for my best friend’s sister, who was lost long ago..”

The girl’s eyes widen, and she switches languages again, this time speaking Japanese fluently, with a perfect Japanese accent. “I apologize, I didn’t realize you were from Japan, Saihara-kun.” Shuichi’s jaw almost drops in surprise- he’s reluctantly impressed by the girl’s language abilities. She must be here to act asn translator. “We’re from Italy, and whoever strays across our territory belongs to us. That, unfortunately, includes you.”

Shuichi’s eyes narrow. “You’re kidnappers. Slavers.”

The girl shrugs nonchalantly. “We need to make a living, too, Saihara-kun. The only question I have to ask you is this: are you hiding any money or precious objects we don’t know about? We’d hate to have to search you.”

Shuichi grits his teeth in disgust. “Why should i cooperate with a gang of kidnappers? Besides, everything I own is in my backpack, which you took.”

The girl smiles grimly. “These people aren’t afraid to kill. You’ll lose your life if you even try to rebel.”

If Shuichi didn’t know better, he would’ve classified the emotion that flashes across her eyes in the blink of an eye as fear.

She continues after Shuichi remains silent. “I’m assuming we have all your belongings, since you aren’t saying anything. I’ll convey the message to the others, then.”

She speaks to the men for a while, and they converse loudly for a bit, until the girl turns to him again, this time with her eyes full of wariness. “Saihara-kun, they say you’ve got a necklace. You shouldn’t lie to us.”

Shuichi’s eyes widen as his hands fly to his neck, and sure enough, the sea glass necklace from Rantaro is still there. He grabs it desperately. “It’s priceless! It’s only a treasure to me, please, don’t take it!”

The girl frowns as she translates, and the man closest to him growls, and leans forward. Shuichi tries to turn away, but he’s hit in the stomach again and he cries out as the necklace is snatched off him, and for the first time in three years, Shuichi feels completely alone and vulnerable. He struggles against his restraints, trying to reach out to get the sea glass back in vain. He feels the tears come to his eyes and fall down his face, and this time Rantaro’s voice isn’t there to comfort him, isn’t there with him, and he feels so empty inside.

The necklace is passed around by the man, dangling from their fingers as they laugh gleefully, and the girl tenses as she sees the necklace. More unidentifiable emotions flash across her face, but the mask covers most of it, and Shuichi is too caught up in his mind to tell.

At last, the girl turns to him again after conversing with the men. Her attitude, Shuichi notices with a start, seems to have completely changed- she seems to have let her guard down. “Saihara-kun, we’ll be taking you to Italy tomorrow. We’ll see you then. I’ll come by at night to guard the door, and bring you food.”

With that, they all leave, leaving Shuichi alone, alone without the one thing that anchors him to life, the one person that guides him to the light, and with the memories of Rantaro fresh in his mind, he cries.

    He’s woken up in the middle of the night by someone shaking him harshly.

He opens his eyes to see the girl from the afternoon, her expression completely guarded as she shakes him awake. She wordlessly slices through the ropes securing him to the door, and yanks him by the arm. “Come on,” she whispers.

“Where are you taking me?” he can’t trust this girl, not after she indirectly caused him to lose his one most important possession, not when she’s so directly affiliated with a gang of kidnappers.

The girl’s jade green eyes flash, and she pulls him out into the moonlight. Shuichi can’t struggle, can’t lash out against the girl, not when his hands are tied and she has the upper hand. She leads him across roads and parts of the forest Shuichi had never seen before, until they reach the edge of the woods and emerge out into the open.

There’s not a single person or building in sight. The night casts a deep sapphire sheen over the grass, but the moon illuminates the clearing a little, shining on the flowers and the tips of the grass. It shines on him, shines on the road before him. But he cannot run.

At last, she turns to face him, and her ivory mask seems to glow in the bright moonlight. “What’s your relationship to my brother?” her voice is soft, and desperate, as she asks him.

Shuichi’s eyes widen. “Your brother?”

The girl holds up a necklace- his necklace, with the sea glass on it, smooth with its aqua colours swirling like a whirlpool, seemingly untouched. “This necklace. It was my brother’s.”

Wait, but this belonged to Rantaro, and had belonged to Rantaro since I knew him. That could only mean- but no! The girl doesn’t even smile, let alone laugh… “Who are you?” he asks her instead.

The girl doesn’t answer him. “You said you were looking for your best friend’s sister,” she says quietly, and Shuichi can hear hurt and pain in her voice. “What’s your best friend’s name?”

Shuichi hesitates, then replies. “Rantaro Amami,” he says, taking his chances, and he knows, by the girl’s reactions, that his guess is correct. Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops, and Shuichi can see concern and worry and relief in her eyes. “You’re Naoko, aren’t you?”

The girl takes off her mask, and Shuichi recognizes her straight away. Her features are just like Rantaro’s, the same bone structure, and the same shape of their eyes. Her chestnut brown hair and jade green eyes bathe in the glow of the moon, and tears stream down her face, glistening in an ethereal light. She is unmistakably Naoko, the girl he’s here to look for, and she confirms it by nodding. “Where is my brother?” she whispers.

Shuichi feels his own tears swimming in his eyes as he tells Naoko of all her sisters missing, of how Rantaro died, how he’d gotten the necklace, of the three years he’d spent locked away and the three years he’d spent relentlessly searching for Rantaro’s siblings. His heart breaks as Naoko starts to sob, burying her head in her hands. He feels so sorry for her- she’d lost her brother for years and years, and thought she’d finally find him again when she saw Rantaro’s necklace, only to be told that her brother had been dead for six years.

At last, she looks up, and wordlessly hands him back the necklace. “I’m sorry for taking it,” she murmurs, “thank you for coming to look for me. But I’m past the point of no return now, I can’t come home with you. I’m sorry.”

Shuichi grabs her hands, “Naoko- just leave, leave the gang, come home with us. We can book the flight now, and leave tomorrow. They’ll never find you again.”

Naoko’s eyes are full of terror as she shakes her head fervently. “I can’t! When I was taken, so many years ago, I made a bargain to avoid getting sold. They took the life out of me, took the laughter and joy and all the things I used to feel out of me, see? They own me, don’t you understand?” her voice is desperate, and the fear and guilt in her eyes is too much to bear. “I can’t come with you, they’d kill you all, and then me! I, I can’t let Taro’s best friend die, I can’t let his memory die. You must leave without me.”

She unslings the backpack from her back- his backpack, Shuichi realizes. She offers it to him, and he takes it with shaking hands. “I’ll take you to where you’re staying, out of this mess of a forest. You must leave, and you must never come back for me, understand?”

Shuichi shakes his head. “I can’t leave you. I promised your brother I would bring you all home.”

A tear runs down Naoko’s cheek, and she brushes it away. “Saihara-kun, if in another life where I’d just gotten lost and not kidnapped, I would willingly come with you a thousand times over, pay my respects to the brother who loved me so much. I would go home, honour his memory. But now… I can’t leave and put you all in danger. That’s not what Rantaro would have wanted.”

“You can!” Shuichi insists, “I have friends in the police force, friends who have influence worldwide. We can protect you, if you come with me.”

Naoko looks away from him, “Come on, I’ll take you back to where you’re staying.” He can hear her voice shaking and breaking as she speaks, struggling to put her mask back on. “The wooden cottages, right? That’s where we stayed when I was taken.”

Shuichi nods, and opens his mouth to speak and try to convince Naoko, again, but she’s already started across the meadow.

Rantaro, if i was truly meant to do this, then- why is this so hard?

    They arrive soon, at the doorstep of the cottage Shuichi is staying in. Naoko, still not looking at him, knocks at the door, and Shuichi opens his mouth to warn her of his companion, but it’s too late.

The door opens, and Amaka peeks out, her hair still braided and clothes still the ones she’d worn the previous day- she must be trying to call her sisters, or her friends in Japan. Naoko freezes in shock at the sight of her sister, while Amaka’s gaze lands on Shuichi first.

“Shuichi-kun!” she exclaims in relief, and runs forward to hug him. “I was so worried! Where have you-” she breaks off as she notices the other girl next to him, and her face is taken over by shock.

“Naoko-” she whispers.

“Hello, Amaka,” the girl in question says as her voice trembles, but before she finishes, Amaka runs forward, and captures her sister in a tight embrace. Naoko starts crying, and despite the tears running down Amaka’s face, she still comforts the younger girl, holding her close as Naoko sobs into her shoulder and buries her face in her shirt. Naoko starts talking, telling her sister about what had happened to her as she cries and cries, and Amaka listens quietly, holding on tight to her sister as if she’d lose her again any second.

Hopefully, Amaka will be able to convince Naoko to come with them, back to Japan. It’s where she belongs.

Shuichi looks up to the sky as his hands instinctively go to touch the necklace, and the sea glass is cool as ever. He sees Rantaro in the night, smiling and wiping away tears of his own as he watches his sisters hug, and Shuichi smiles, relieved.

For Shuichi knows, that the memory of Rantaro is his most precious treasure of all, and as long as he has that by his side, he’s completely and utterly content.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa fanfiction #i have no idea what this is #i'm sorry for bad quality #rantaro amami #shuichi saihara #rantaro x shuichi #silveryyyy's fanfiction #amasai #amasai week 2020