O-Positive
Summary: There's only one person available to save Sakakura's life with a matching blood type. Still facing his demons, Ryota laments that it ends up being him.
Rating: T
Notes: This is the second of two chapters, meaning the story ends here. It's an open ending.
I apologize if this seems not as quality as my other writings. I grew bored with this, but already had like 3k typed so I just polished it as best I could to publish it and get it over with, haha.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dangan Ronpa, but Juzo Sakakura is definitely canonly alive.
O-Positive
Chapter 2
In the animes Ryota loved to watch, there were always protagonists to look up to - brave, valiant heroes that shone like a beacon of light, guiding both the other characters and the plot forwards. The heroes may have fallen at times, but they always got back to their feet, they always persevered and went beyond what should have been their limits, and they never let their fears overtake them.
Growing up, all Ryota had was anime, and he found himself looking up and aspiring to be just like the characters in his shows. When he grew older and began to craft his own tales, he always exaggerated the heroes' strengths, and made sure there was no question of their role in the story. His characters were flawed, of course, but always overcame their challenges to become a legend.
As he drew them, Ryota would fantasize about being in that position and making those choices, saving his friends and ultimately going down in history as being a brave and powerful individual.
It was a far cry from reality, but oh, he dreamed.
Once Enoshima seized his video and used it as she did, Ryota grew to detest his works. He hated the illusion he presented with his animations - that he, of all people, thought that good could prevail. How naive, he had thought bitterly - righteousness won in fiction, but clearly the same couldn't be said of reality.
So he lost faith rapidly, becoming repulsed by the very act of picking up a pencil. His passion for life had died away, leaving him a depressed shell. Taking a blade to his arms helped numb the pain a bit, but even they scarred and left him with reminders of his own weakness.
Ryota hated himself - but he knew he had no right to complain or try to change anything. He'd already messed up the world enough.
His mind wandered away from self-pity, focusing on creating a setting for his current dream. He wasn't anywhere in particular; his surroundings were a deep blue color, but nothing formed the illusion of a room, merely a vast empty space with him in the dead center.
Blinking, his eyes scanned for anything familiar anyway, trying desperately to make sense of the place his mind had conjured up. Of course, he came up with nothing logical about where he was, and merely trusted that his instinctive terror was valid.
Of course, she spawned not even a minute later, proving he was right to be afraid.
Perhaps fear was too lax a word for what Enoshima did to him; what he was feeling was easily terror, raw and overpowering to his constitution. And yet, how strange, he reflected - this was clearly a dream, but that one part of him still felt terrified at the very image of Enoshima, her thin shadow looming over him with the heels of her thigh-high boots. He knew better than to think she was actually here - but his mind didn't listen to logic, and his body reacted accordingly, sending fresh dream-adrenaline through his veins.
"Mitarai-kuuun, I came to play. Don't you want to see me again?" she asked, her tone almost bored.
He stepped back, shaking his head furiously and feeling the hot prick of tears behind his eyes. "N-no, no, I don't ever want to see you again…! You're dead!" Panic bubbled in him like a tea kettle boiling, threatening to spill over and splash his anxiety over the edge.
The girl placed her hands on her hips, a disdained look on her face. "How rude. I come all this way after being dead to see you, and you treat me like this? It's like you aren't even grateful I helped you reach your full potential! Uwaah, how despairing~!" Her expression melted into an almost lustful one, drool leaving the corners of her mouth as she wrapped her arms around herself.
Ryota closed his eyes, willing her to fade away - but of course, when he looked once more, she was still there. He tried to ignore her, to focus on something else, but it was difficult when there was nothing else around in his dream state.
But, wait - a dream state meant he could manipulate his environment, didn't it?
Fists clenching, he raised his voice a little. "I- I want you to go away. I don't want you to be here, I don't want to hear you in my mind anymore. Go away, Enoshima."
She merely laughed. "Oh my god, are you trying to exorcise me or something?"
In a way, that was correct - besides her ghostly state, Ryota had trouble believing Enoshima Junko was ever human to begin with. The woman was simply too evil, too sadistic to be anything but a demon. And exorcising demons sent them away for good, so he'd have to try harder.
"Go away," he repeated, his tone louder but still shaking. "Go. Away!"
"Mitarai-kuun, I wanna play~"
"GO AWAY!" he yelled, voice cracking and eyes narrowed into frustrated slits. Anger pulsed through him, the frustration of having this ghost chase him around and whisper horrible things in his ear was becoming all-too-much. Maybe it was because she'd taken to messing with his dreams now, but Ryota had had enough.
Her face fell from the smile, a serious and equally furious look crossing her features. "Huuuuh? So, Mitarai-kun thinks he's a good guy now, huh? Just for giving some guy blood? It's like you completely forgot what you did with the video! And that was all you, baby. Remember, you said it yourself: I've been dead for ages!"
Ryota trembled where he stood, a surge of confidence fueling him to stand his ground. He hated this woman; everything she stood for went against what he wanted to be, and he was getting sick of it. In his dreams, he could take more risks, and spit at the face that tormented him so much - after all, it was only a dream, right?
His fists shook at his sides. "Damn it, why do you have to show up now?" he hissed. "I- I'm doing a good thing! I'm helping someone! Leave me alone!"
With a wide, toothy grin, Enoshima loomed closer, her eyes dark and shooting a hole through him. Icy, manicured fingernails trailed along his cheeks as she leaned in closer, clamping her hands on both sides of his head and twisting her facial features to a stretched, wicked expression of sadistic glee. It looked otherworldly; if Enoshima wasn't a demon before, she surely turned into one after death - or, at the very least, in this nightmare.
Her hot breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "There's nothing you can do to escape what you've done."
Eyes snapping open, it took a moment for Ryota to regain his bearings. His lungs shuddered and his heart pounded with every heavy breath he pushed through his lips, his gaze wide and unfocused. As he inspected his surroundings, his memory became clearer and clearer until he was able to fully recall what had made him fall asleep.
He'd agreed to give blood to Sakakura, as fate decided to link them together through blood type. Ryota was the only one that could do the transfusion on such short notice, and the desperate look on Munakata's face told him he absolutely could not refuse, even if he had wanted to.
But while getting his blood drawn, it seemed he'd ended up passing out after all. It figured, and Ryota wasn't the least bit surprised; he always had a weakness to blood and needles, not to mention hospitals, so this place was just begging to cut his consciousness off, as if in some twisted way of self-defense.
Lying in the same bed he'd fainted in, Ryota noted the quietness of the space around him, as well as the water bottle sitting on his bed stand. His throat was dry from thirst, and he helped himself to a long gulp of the water.
Once he placed the bottle down, he found the room wasn't empty. Purple caught the corner of his eye, and he finally noticed Kirigiri and Naegi sitting nearby. They'd pulled up a couple of chairs in the room at the foot of his bed, reflecting two sets of concerned gazes back at him.
"Mitarai-kun, are you alright?" Kirigiri asked.
He made himself nod, even though he wasn't so sure he was completely alright. Still, what right did he have to tell them his troubles? He had nightmares, sure, but weren't those the least of what he deserved, after what he'd done?
Taking in another shaky breath, the animator forced himself to peer over at the occupant of the other bed, but was surprised to find a curtain partitioning Sakakura's side of the room off.
He must have looked as confused as he felt, for Naegi answered his thoughts a moment later. "While you were asleep, they gave Sakakura-san the transfusion, and he was in surgery for a bit. The nurses said the blood really helped! He's stable and resting, for now."
Ryota's heart felt lighter at the words, a fluttering sort of feeling dancing around in his chest. It wasn't the normal anxious butterflies of, well, being nervous about everything, but a strange sense of relief. Finally, some evidence that he'd done something right for a change.
"I'm glad," he breathed, staring over at the curtain thoughtfully. "Naegi-san, can I ask you something?"
Naegi's eyebrows raised. "Of course, Mitarai-san."
He fiddled with the sheet lightly draped over him, index finger and thumb pinching the fabric nervously. How could he possibly explain what plagued him to Naegi Makoto, a literal shining beacon of hope? The young man probably never felt a drop of despair in his life, and would only scold him for allowing Enoshima to influence him so heavily in the past.
Would he blame Ryota for what happened to the world? For what happened to his classmates?
"What is it?" Naegi pressed, startling Ryota out of his thoughts.
"W-well…" Ryota began, his throat feeling dry despite the water he'd just sipped. "H-how did you… manage to defeat Enoshima? I keep doubting myself - I keep being afraid. How… how could you believe in hope so strongly? Does it do anything, in the end, when despairful events keep happening?" He chewed on his lip, feeling his pulse quicken.
The other boy was silent for a bit, exchanging a glance with Kirigiri. He placed a hand to his chin in thought, really constructing the answer in his mind before giving it to Ryota. Of course, the animator knew why he would be careful with his words, but the drawn-out pause was absolute hell. Every second felt like an hour, every minute an eternity as he waited, a pathetic dog anticipating the bone that would hopefully keep him from starving. He waited and felt himself drawn to the possibility of Naegi's words being positive towards him, his inner self immediately ridiculing the idea.
Still, he waited. He hoped.
"Ha! You know what hope does, Mitarai-kun. You know alllll about it, don't you?"
He shook his head clear, not wanting to hear what Enoshima would say on the matter.
"Mitarai-san, despair will always be present in our world," Naegi finally said, snapping Ryota back to reality. "Hoping doesn't mean despair will go away completely. It won't. That's just not how it works. But what Enoshima Junko wanted - the world to be plunged completely into despair - simply isn't possible, either. Hope and despair coexist, just as good and bad events happen. It's a matter of balancing them to keep yourself human."
The older boy glanced over at the curtain, expression growing unreadable. With a soft sigh, Naegi added, "You remember when I made you guys tie me up? I saw the despair video on the monitor, and same as anyone else, I tried to kill myself. But… Sakakura-san stopped me. He said that someone who defeated Enoshima Junko couldn't just die like that. He saved me from despair."
With a smile, Naegi stood up and walked over to Ryota. He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes glimmering. "I'm not some kind of hope machine. I've lost a lot of friends, and I've felt the cutting despair of it. But I haven't given up, and believe that hope will keep me in the right state of mind to move forward with life."
Kirigiri joined Naegi next, sitting on the other side of the bed. "Choosing to hope doesn't mean you don't know the pain of despair, Mitarai-kun. You can feel both, and find that peace of mind once you accept it." She curled her lips to a smile to mirror Naegi's, an equally positive look flickering in her eyes.
Ryota didn't know how to respond, but his body seemed to have that covered - without warning, tears pooled under his eyes and slipped down his cheeks as he bowed his head. A lump formed in his throat and he finally couldn't hold it back anymore; all the shame burned in him like a fire, ripping through him and letting loose through sobs racking his frame.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I've - I've done so much wrong. I'm sorry." He knew it wasn't Enoshima whispering to him, but a representation of his own insecurities and despair. The real Enoshima's opinions of him couldn't matter anymore - she was dead. She couldn't hear him, couldn't see him, couldn't influence him at all anymore.
Kirigiri placed her hand on his shoulder again, and he found himself leaning into the touch a bit.
"You're taking a step in the right direction for helping Sakakura-san," she murmured. Her voice was comforting; he couldn't help but feel better from hearing it, even if he wasn't sure he had the right to.
"That's right!" Naegi exclaimed. "Munakata-san is so, so grateful. Sakakura-san has a way bigger chance of surviving thanks to you!"
Ryota tried not to snort bitterly at the words; Naegi made it sound so nice, so benevolent and pure. A good-hearted animator donating his blood to a man that truly needed it, how kind!
As if. Sakakura was merely damned, forced to continue living in the wretched world Ryota had helped destroy.
The doctors decided to keep Ryota in the room overnight, just in case they needed another transfusion in the morning. It really didn't matter whether he stayed or not, though, because the constant noises of the hospital kept him awake.
Besides the nurses bustling around outside the room and the pages for the doctors, Sakakura's machines were rattling about at every breath he took. Every-so-often, he would cough, and the sound struck Ryota down to the pit of his stomach - it was a wet, suffering hacking noise that almost seemed strangling.
Whatever higher being decided to keep Sakakura on earth, it was clear he was meant to go through so many more hardships before finding peace (at least, Ryota could only assume by the way he couldn't even breathe properly yet).
Tossing and turning in the bed, the younger man tried to drown out the sounds by covering his head with his pillow, but he knew sleep was a far-off dream. He couldn't even sleep normally anymore, and had to resort to any melatonin (or alcohol) he could find, or wait until his body gave into the exhaustion and he passed out wherever he was.
The latter outcome was never helpful in a world that constantly had you looking over your shoulder.
But even in the 'comforting' environment of a hospital - what a joke, honestly - and despite the world looking better and better after the Final Killing Game, Ryota's mind could not stop buzzing. The anxiety gnawed at him, tearing him down and breaking through every weakness in his mind until his thoughts weren't even coherent anymore. Changing from asleep to awake as quickly as a light switch, his consciousness flickered on and off mercilessly until reality was no longer obvious.
Enoshima stood at his bed, her teeth sharp and widespread into a smile, bright blue eyes just watching him. She didn't even need to say anything anymore; her simply being there brought the the room's temperature down a significant degree, not to mention chilling Ryota to the bone.
He stared, eyes wide and unblinking like an owl's, and willed her to just disappear already. But she remained there, and he remained watching, his whole body trembling and his heart pounding against his ribs like a drum.
"Please," he whispered finally, his voice hoarse and broken, "please, just leave me alone."
She didn't respond, but another sound caught his attention; the beeping from the bed space next to him grew quicker, the puffs of oxygen more frequent. Ryota's gaze shot over to Sakakura, watching as his eyelids twitched and the fingers on his remaining hand curled inwards slightly, a low rumbling noise echoing from behind his mask. Instantly, the animator was up and at the other man's side, kneeling down at the side of his bed and watching carefully.
Just for a second, he cast a quick glance to where Enoshima had been standing; to his surprise, she had vanished completely, not even a wisp of black smoke left in her wake. But another low moan from the bedridden man snapped his attention fully away, and the dead girl completely faded from his mind for the time being.
Ryota noticed Sakakura's every movement, however slight, and held his breath once he noticed the man's eyelids slowly sliding open, tiny slits of red finally showing themselves to the world after so long. Sakakura's eyes looked empty, but not lifeless - it was clear he wasn't coherent yet, but he was well enough to open them, at least.
After watching Sakakura blink a few times to clear his vision, Ryota contemplated speaking to him. He didn't want to spook the man, so he decided on quiet, choice words.
"Excuse me," he asked, his voice but a whisper, "how are you feeling?"
Sakakura still flinched at the sound, not expecting any noise so close, and the red gaze shot over to stare at him. There still wasn't a readable expression on his face, but the way he narrowed his eyes told Ryota he was getting more and more aware as the seconds dragged by.
"Do you know your name?" the boy pressed, unsure of what to even ask him.
Sakakura managed to roll his eyes, his cracked lips parting behind the oxygen mask. There was a brief moment of quiet as he readied himself to try speaking after such a long time, and when he finally did reply, it seemed to take a lot of effort just for a few words.
"Sakakura Juzo. And I feel like shit," he croaked, his voice hoarse and lower than usual.
"A-ah," Ryota mumbled, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. "Yes, I'm sure you're in pain. You're in the hospital, though, as you can probably guess... I'll, um, call the nurse for you-"
He moved to press the Call button above Sakakura's bed, but a hand shot out so quickly and clasped his wrist so tightly that he let out a frightened yelp.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Ryota quivered.
"I know you. If… if you survived that hell-" Sakakura's voice cut off as he coughed, his whole frame shaking and tears pricking along the corners of his eyes.
Ryota waited patiently for him to continue, too intimidated by the hand still gripping him to do anything else.
"Where is Munakata?"
Curiously, Ryota raised his eyebrows. So, Sakakura was on the brink of death - needing multiple machines to breathe and a sheer medical miracle to still be alive - and his first worries were about Munakata? Was he that close with his friend, or did Munakata give him a reason to be so concerned?
Either way, it was kind of admirable, admittedly. Ryota couldn't say he held such a close bond with someone - not even Imposter, who he owed so much to.
"Munakata-san is fine. He's going to be returning here tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you awake…!"
A look of pure relief washed over Sakakura's face, the expression so foreign Ryota had to wonder if this was the same man that had assaulted him during the Killing Game. The boxer looked so serene, so calm that it was almost frightening.
"Good. I don't think he'll be happy to see me, but… it's good, that he got out," Sakakura mumbled, mostly to himself, but nodded to confirm his words. "I knew he would, though."
Ryota forced a nervous smile. "Y-yes, you shut down the power in the facility… do you remember?"
Sakakura chuckled - it was quiet, defeated, and so very bitter. His eyes slipped closed for a few moments, and just as Ryota was beginning to fear Sakakura had lapsed back into unconsciousness, he replied in the same jaded tone.
"How the hell could I forget? Levers, blood… Munakata… I… why am I not dead, after that?" Red eyes opened and tracked around the room almost curiously, each object surely taking a moment to register in the man's mind. It had been so long since he'd seen any glimpse of the conscious world - Ryota couldn't blame him for taking a bit to readjust to reality.
The boy sighed, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit jacket anxiously. "Honestly, I - I don't know how you managed to survive that. You must be… really strong." He gave a weak laugh in an attempt at humor, but it only sounded strangled in his throat. "I should know, I still have bruises from where you kneed me in the stomach, after all!"
Silence fell between them as Sakakura simply stared, his expression unreadable. His mouth pressed into a firm line and his eyebrows raised, as though he'd just realized who he was looking at. "Ah," he finally mumbled. "I had... nothin' to worry about, then. If you of all people survived that hell, th-then… then of course Munakata would be fine." A wry smirk crossed his lips and he released Ryota's wrist with a scoff, turning his head to focus on something else in the room.
Ryota sat quietly, not daring to move, and simply watched Sakakura regain his bearings. The wounded man's gaze trailed from the window showing the blackened sky outside, to the machines and wires connected to him, and back at Ryota again.
"Why are you of all people here, anyway?" the boxer rasped, his head lulling a bit to the side.
Swallowing hard, Ryota wasn't exactly sure how to respond. "W-well," he stammered out, licking his lips, "since we apparently have the same blood type, Munakata-san requested that I help give you a transfusion. You were… in pretty bad shape."
There was another long stretch of silence, and the boy couldn't help but flinch at the possibility of being scolded - or even struck - for his stupidity. Of course Sakakura wouldn't want Ryota's blood in his veins, that was just common sense, but he suddenly felt the hesitation grow stronger the more he predicted the boxer's angry reaction.
"I'm sorry, we couldn't just… ask you," he whispered. "There was no other choice." He forced his gaze up to meet Sakakura's, fear reflecting in his amber eyes.
Sakakura blinked coolly, not at all as angry as Ryota had predicted. The man almost seemed unimpressed, as though it hadn't mattered to him if he lived or died. Suddenly, Ryota recalled Naegi reporting the boxer's condition, and how empty and void of emotion he'd been as he walked away to his presumed death.
"A-anyway," the animator continued, trying to change the topic. "Speaking of survival, Kirigiri-san also overcame impossible odds…"
"Good for her," Sakakura retorted, rolling his eyes. "I don't exactly expect less from the friend of Naegi Makoto, Super High School Level Luck Bullshit."
He didn't expect Sakakura to idolize Kirigiri like Ryota did, but didn't really understand the hostility he had with her - or any of the Hope's Peak alumni, especially considering the boxer himself was among them.
Oh well. Ryota didn't think he could get into the mind of Sakakura anyway, nor did he think he deserved to know what pained the man so much.
More silence fell between them in the tiny room, and Ryota could feel the creeping feeling of panic quickening his heart. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, the boy decided to just continue babbling about whatever he could think of, just to keep his mind off the fact that he was sitting alone in a room with a man he outright feared.
"It sounds pathetic, but… I'm happy I was able to help." Fingers curling on his knees as he bowed his head, Ryota could feel his shoulders trembling. He couldn't stop the words from coming; like vomit, it all just spewed out of him without his control. "I… I've felt responsible for the end of the world for so long, you know. I've always felt like it was me that made things get this bad."
Sakakura was silently watching him, so he continued, "A-after all, Enoshima used… my video, to brainwash my classmates. I didn't know she would do it, but that doesn't excuse it. I… fucked up!" Tears pricked at his eyes once again - crybaby, he scolded himself - as he confessed all his sins to Juzo Sakakura, someone who had every right to kill him the minute he could.
Well, Ryota would welcome death at this point.
Sakakura's red eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in surprise and his eyebrows raised high. "It was you," he rumbled, disbelief heard in every syllable. "It was your video that did it."
Ryota nodded, screwing his own eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry - Enoshima, she doesn't leave me alone. She's still in my thoughts, my dreams - she still whispers words to me. I'm trying to make up for what I've done, but despair just won't leave me alone!"
Sakakura looked ready to strangle him, the veins in his forehead bulging and his lips curled into a snarl. Ryota held his breath, expecting to be punched at this point. Then again, if Sakakura wasn't physically able to punch him, maybe he'd scold or threaten him until he could.
But, to his surprise, the bedridden man's anger faded rather quickly. In what seemed like less time than the blink of an eye, Sakakura's expression melted into something more placid and controlled. A great sigh left his lips and he leaned his head back against the pillows, gaze listlessly tracking around the room once more.
"Screw it. I can't even be that mad," he mumbled. "It's not like you're the only one to blame."
"What do you mean?" Ryota was completely positive it was his fault, given the facts. Was Sakakura trying to make him feel better or something? "She used my video."
"I heard you the first time," Sakakura snapped, but his expression wasn't as angry as he sounded. "And I'm saying you're not the only one with sins to live with."
Was the other man speaking from experience? Ryota opened his mouth to reply, to ask what he could possibly be referring to, but Sakakura's glare made him close it again rather quickly.
"I didn't know I'd wake up," Sakakura continued, fiddling with the hem of the hospital blanket. "I didn't know I'd be one hand down, still here and still able to protect Munakata. I didn't know all of this would happen when Enoshima confronted and blackmailed me - and believe me, I would've gladly given into her if that was the case."
Blackmail. The word hit Ryota's stomach like a stone; swallowing hard, he tried to imagine what Enoshima could possibly have on someone like Sakakura. The man seemed downright invincible; what sort of secrets was he hiding?
"But as it is, now that I'm somehow still breathing, I don't think dying would've helped much. Might've been just me taking the easy way out." Sakakura's remaining fingers curled into a fist and he stared down at it, his expression somber. He grew quiet, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound in the room.
Ryota wanted to respond that Sakakura was probably stronger than anyone he'd ever known, but he didn't want to disturb the man's deep thinking. So instead, he leaned back in his chair, reflecting on his own choices and where to go now.
Sakakura seemed to think that living was punishment for his sins, but what if it was simply another chance to change themselves? What if they were both given their lives, despite the Killing Game and Enoshima's despairful chaos, to atone for their mistakes and do right this time around?
And of course, Ryota knew he wouldn't ever be able to escape what he'd done, nor did he want to erase the seriousness of it all. But despite that, there had to be a better way to contribute to society now, to helping to rebuild the world. Hurting himself further didn't help anyone. If he just ran away or gave up, it would be spitting in the faces of those that lost their lives because of Enoshima.
He could start a change, he reasoned, by giving blood to anyone else that needed it in the hospital - and then go from there, one day at a time.
I'll try to be stronger now. He thought, closing his eyes and breathing out deeply. Just watch me prove you wrong, Enoshima. I'll do better.
And to his surprise, she never responded.
