[Fic] He wasn't sure what happened at first.

[usononikki]

It wasn't apparent. There was no change. Kokichi had at least expected everything to stop eventually when he died. But no, even as his vision went dark and he lost track of his body in space, the pain was excruciating. Bones cracking, his skull splitting open like a bug underfoot, his veins on fire and his brain melting from poison, the only thoughts remaining within it being I'm sorry, it hurts, I'm sorry, make it stop, I'm sorry, please—

There was a clatter and a thud in the distance. Or something. It was hard to tell from the ringing in his ears. Was there supposed to be sound after death?

"Hey! Are you alright?"

His head was splitting, his vision wasn't registering what it was seeing. It was dark, wasn't it? No, that's a lie. There was something. He could see, but his brain couldn't process it. The visual information just wasn't computing. He threw his arms over his face to block it out and return to the less overwhelming darkness.

He still had arms?

"What is the matter? Can you speak?" Now that he was a little more aware of himself, Kokichi recognized the voice. Kiibo? Where was Momota? Kiibo wasn't dead.

Where was he?

He coughed out a wheeze with lungs that were supposed to be mush.

Everything hurt.

Was this his punishment? The momentary pain of death wasn't enough? He would have to bare it for eternity?

"Hello?" Oh for fuck's sake.

Kokichi let his leaden arms fall from his face, squinting as his surroundings finally came into focus. An overgrown classroom. Kiibo standing over him with a... frankly ridiculous look of concern on his face. A look Kokichi would expect him to give anyone else... not him.

What was going on?

"What are we doing here?" he croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper. He could barely breathe. He swore the poison was still there, eating away at him from the inside. He could barely feel his limbs, which for all intents and purposes should not be there. His head was pounding hard enough that it left spots in his vision.

"Ah, so you can speak!" Kiibo brightened at the question, only to wither again when he gave his answer. "I'm sorry to say, I do not know. I woke up in the locker beside yours. I was inspecting the room when you suddenly collapsed out of it onto the floor!"

They were in the lockers again? What kind of sense did that make? Kokichi's stomach churned, and he rolled over to clutch it with a groan as the anxiety aggravated the sharp pain that was already there. Was he still poisoned? Was he still on the press? Was his life flashing before his eyes? Is that what this was? Were life flashes supposed to deviate like this?

"Are you okay?"

Or was this purgatory? Hell? Was he being punished or something? After everything he'd done, he wouldn't be surprised.

The regret ached like poison of its own in his veins.

He was eventually able to get up with Kiibo's help, and from there things only continued on as one would expect. The pieces fell into place that he was living the same thing over, or having some sort of psychotic mid-death dream, or... something. Akamatsu was back, then Hoshi, then... him. Taro-kun. And Kokichi would have bound into his arms if it hadn't been for how much his body ached.

If it hadn't been for that cordial gaze devoid of any recognition Taro-kun gave him.

Well, even if it was just a death-dream, the least Kokichi could do was save them this time, for his own peace of mind. To soothe at least one of the poisons that plagued him. That's what he told himself. He would give himself this.

Even as one loop turned into two turned into twenty. Even as that ache and poison continued to plague him.

It was his first time, every time, a new lease.

He would just get used to the pain. Keep going. Find the happy ending. It was the least he could do, righting wrongs in his own little purgatory.

His own final lie to himself before laying down and letting go.