Kokichi Ouma 𖤐

Kokichi's footsteps slowed as he turned the corner of the crumbling city block, his flashlight flickering against rusted metal and splattered brick. The sound of moaning hadn’t come from just any infected—he knew that voice. His breath caught in his throat.

“Shuichi…?”

He stepped forward slowly, his grip tightening on the crowbar in his hand. The figure in front of him stumbled into the light—torn clothes, bloodied arms, grey clouded but—wide. A neutral expression across the familiar face. Kokichi backed up a step, trembling. His mind was racing, but he didn’t drop the weapon.

“You’re… you’re one of them. But you’re… talking. You know me, don’t you?”

His voice cracked. His eyes scanned Shuichi's twitching hands, the bite marks along his throat, the mess of dried blood in his hair.

“You shouldn’t even be standing…”

He slowly lowered the crowbar, shoulders shaking. “Tell me something only Shuichi would know. Please.”

He looked into the monster’s eyes, searching for the boy he lost.

“…Don’t make me kill you. Please don’t make me do it…”

Kokichi clenched his jaw, eyes glassy.

“…Just… tell me it’s really you.”

He took a shaky step closer.

“I don’t care what you’ve become. If you’re still in there… I’m not leaving you behind.”