Kokichi readied himself for death a long time ago. In his line of work, one had to be comfortable with the fact that they could die at any time. Vampires were violent, thoughtless beasts that didn't hesitate to kill—threatened or not. In that case, he advised all his members to make peace with themselves, as well as whatever religious or spiritual entities they believed in.
As for Kokichi, he wasn't sure what he believed in. There were a few times his more devout Christian members—like Rio, for instance—tried to get him to give their own faiths a chance, but he wasn't sold on any one of them. So as he laid unconscious in the void, he thought about the end, and which all-powerful entity he'd see. God? Satan? The universe itself? Maybe even something more terrifying and unknown? He wasn't sure. But even if he was dead, he'd still show civility.
Kokichi had a few good words to give God or any other so-called "benevolent" deities. He'd complain about a lot of things, like why they're letting the world suffer so much if they're supposedly guardians and protectors. He'd also denounce their human followers, and mention how overzealous they can be. Then, he'd seriously doubt their judgement to begin with, because Kokichi is certainly not going to Heaven. At least, he's sure of it.
He had things to say to Satan or other seemingly "malevolent" deities, too. He wouldn't be surprised to see any of them, given his history and his maniacal tendencies. He'd still ask his questions, though, because you can't pass up a chance to ask something amazing. He wouldn't be scared of eternal flames or anything like that. If anything, he'd defer to his time on earth, and mention that he was too good of a leader to be a simple grunt in Team Hell, If he was going to suffer, he was going to suffer as Hell's VIP, for sure.
In case of a neutral entity, Kokichi would ask if it'd be cool to chill out and oversee the Earth for the rest of his immortal days. Or even better, that they give him a tour of the universe, and answer the big questions like, who are we? How did the universe start? What really happens after death? Etcetera, etcetera. He had a lot of questions, basically, and he prepared himself to ask any number of them.
But no matter what happened, Kokichi readied himself. Because the dream where Shuichi's eyes poured liquid introspection and curiosity into his soul would inevitably end, and once it did he would be stuck with whatever consequence followed a human's death. And in the midst of this preparation, he asked himself if vampires would go to the same places as humans, or if there was a separate afterlife for them or not. This was because of his concern with running into others. What if he encountered old friends, his parents, or other vampires that he got mixed up with in the past? How would he explain to them everything up to that point, if at all? The thought of it alone gave him shivers.
Eventually, after what must have been a century in the real world, Kokichi's dream ended.
And he woke up.
.
.
The first thing he saw was the ceiling, and a bit of the connecting wall facing opposite of him. They were dark-colored, and classic crown-moldings ran along the edges of the corners. He rubbed his eyes free of sleep, and took in his surroundings. There were bed sheets underneath him (soft and loud as he shuffled around), and he was breathing clearly, which was strange because wasn't he dead? Or wasn't he?
The distinct smell of burning incense hit him, along with the unmistakable scents of tea, and the parchment of old books. His head reasoned that he was in a library, office, or some sort of archives room. He was a studious person when it mattered, too, but he'd never be caught dead in a public library, or some other nerd herd.
He sat up straighter, and looked around the room properly. It was definitely someone's bedroom or office, because the walls around him were completely blocked out by bookshelves and bulletin boards, with dozens of papers pinned up to them. Together with the large wooden desk, matching wooden side table, and tall lamp, it looked as if the room was about to burst open from the seams. Then add the presence of Kokichi's bed—plain, bare, and on wheels—and the place is way too crowded to be usable.
Not to mention that of all the possessions here, the most important ones—his phones and his knives, for instance—weren't there. He didn't have hope of his earthly possessions following him into the afterlife, but some small part of him still expected mercy now that he was dead.
...He was dead, right?
Probably, he reasoned internally. Is this, like, a test from the afterlife receptionists, or something? He glanced at the side table on a whim, and spotted a distinctive piece of clothing that shattered any illusion he had.
It was a hat. No, the hat. The same damn hat that was sitting on Saihara's head before he knocked it off with the A+ accuracy he had. And if that was Saihara's hat, it meant that Ouma was obviously not dead, and was simply being held captive in Saihara's domain.
His heart sank.
His eyes wandered.
He realized that this wasn't Heaven, Hell, the universe, or anything else like that. Oh no, this was much worse.
The good news was that strangely, Shuuichi wasn't anywhere in sight. It was good because it meant that Kokichi could escape without interference. Or, if there was interference, he still had a chance of breaking free without conflict. Even if it meant putting his lifelong goal to kill Shuuichi on hold, it'd be worth it if he could regroup and bounce back twice as hard as ever.
With that in mind, Kokichi moved as quietly as he could. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his limbs filled with a fuzzy sensation as he did so. His head wasn't swimming, thankfully, so he could see ahead of him clearly. His arms and hands felt dull, though, like they needed to be cracked and the bones needed to pop.
But the slightest movement suddenly seemed too noisy in his mind. Kokichi swallowed the anxiety building up in his throat, and willed his body to keep moving.
He reached the door, and gently pushed it open.
He found himself in a hallway, with one direction leading to more doors, and the other going out towards an open space. He headed left to the open space, and found himself in what must have been the lobby of the detective agency. There was a small army of black leather couches, worn out and well-used, lining the further walls. Fake, potted plants decorated the corners of the room, and there was a marble countertop meant to be the front desk. On each wall, there seemed to be more bulletin boards, and obvious help wanted signs, missing persons flyers, and lost pet announcements were tacked up. Surprisingly, they were all recent cases, meaning this agency did its job well enough that mysteries got solved.
So where were the actual detectives? Kokichi remembered from his earlier sleuthing that the Saihara Private Detective Agency was run by a family. Neither Shuuichi nor the man from earlier in the day (or was it yesterday? Kokichi shivered at the thought of being unconscious in this place any longer than a few hours) were here. There wasn't even a receptionist or a clientele in the lobby, which made him question if it was lunch time, or if business was just slow for families of missing people and the like.
Regardless, Ouma made his way to the front door, where freedom was just a few short steps away. Out there, he'd be a shadow, a faceless blob in the crowd, and he could better prepare himself for an inevitable conflict with Saihara in the future.
his hands reached for the door quicker than he could process them.
Three pairs of eyes stared at each other. Two bodies stood just centimeters away from Kokichi, on the other side of the double doors he so carelessly flung open. One of them had blood-red eyes, while the other wore a magenta look of confusion. Add in Ouma's violet surprise, and they were a recipe for an ocular sunset—irises rising and falling and bleeding into the sky.
They stared.
Then, three different voices shouted over each other at once. Somehow, they all managed to yell the same word into the air, at the exact same time during which their thoughts and voices overlapped one another.
"What?"
.
.
"Ouma?" Momota asked, mouth agape. "What the fuck? What are you doing here?"
"You'd better explain yourself, Ouma." Harukawa's voice was just as bitter and angry as it had been when he first met her. "You shouldn't be here."
"Momota? Harukawa?" Ouma squinted, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Why are you guys here?"
"We asked you first, man!" Kaito barked. "Why're you at Shuuichi's place?"
"Since when are you guys friends with Shuuichi?" he accused. He glanced from Momota and Harukawa, and found his answer in the strangely embarrassed look in her eyes. "Oh, I see now. You're friends with Saihara, aren't you? And when you told me that you weren't really friends with him back at Akamatsu's party, that had been a lie, right? And you almost got away with it! Impressive, Maki Roll, impressive!"
"Fuck you, I told you not to call me that."
"Wait, this creep talked to you at the party, too?" Momota gaped. "I knew something was wrong! And you're calling her—"
"That's not important right now," Ouma insisted. "I'll do us all a favor and skedaddle. No, really, I mean it! I'll get out of your hair sooner than you can thank me. Then we can all pretend that this didn't happen, okay?"
"Ouma—"
"Bye."
He ran off before they could chase him. That didn't stop Momota from shouting, though, and reaching out for Ouma's scruff with a sudden start. He grabbed him by the scarf, but noticing it was only the scarf, Ouma quickly wormed his way out of it, and dashed into the streets where he was lost to the foot traffic.
Momota cursed, and clenched the scarf in his hands. "Maki Roll, seriously, what the hell is going on?"
"...He's a vampire hunter," she explained in a deadpan. Momota almost shouted, but she spoke in a voice too low for any eavesdroppers to hear. "I tipped him off about Saihara, 'cause I didn't think he was the one he'd be looking for, but turns out I was wrong."
"...So, is Shuuichi in, like, a shitload of trouble then?"
"A shitload and then some," she muttered gravely. "Come on, let's go inside and wait for him. We've gotta do something about the...Ouma situation."
His nose upturned at the thought of associating with Ouma any more than was necessary. "Fine, I guess we've got no choice but to get dragged into this madness, huh?"
The two of them headed inside, further distancing themselves from Ouma, who had run so far down the street, there was no chance of Saihara finding him now.
Yet, as he boarded the subway, and as he kept DICE headquarters in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had he stayed at the agency, and talked things out with Saihara. Not that a vampire deserves a second chance, but that things would be interesting if he got to face Saihara a second time—the one who officially got away.
Maybe things would be different. Maybe they'd possibly be better!
Just maybe.
