Danganronpa Oneshots

❓ My Comfort Cliff ❓

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~ Warning ~ Suicide and related mental health themes, but metaphors.

❓~❓~❓

Saihara sat on the edge of his cliff, legs swinging back and forth. He leaned on his hands that rested against the jagged rock. His palms were littered with cuts but he couldn't feel them, nor did he mind the blood. Most people would disagree, but Saihara found comfort when he sat on the edge of the cliff, the place he belonged. Unlike others, he wasn't happy or sad, he simply existed.

He peeked at the sky from behind his cap, edge ripped from years of use. Everyone praised the sky, adoring rainbow hues and sparkles twinkling like stars. Saihara didn't see that anymore, he couldn't remember what it looked like either. To him, the sky was cloudy and grey.

Glancing past his shoes, Saihara stared underneath the cliff. People found it terrifying, likening it to a void of fiery torture. Some claimed to see spikes, others claimed to see a lonely chamber, but Saihara saw a glittery cloud. He saw the opposite of Townsfolk.

Standing from his seat, Saihara stretched and groaned, his joints popping with each movement. He sat there for hours without moving and now he felt like taking a few steps back. Saihara gazed at the town behind him, a safe distance from the cliff's edge. Far enough away for the boy not to hear cheers from townsfolk.

Everyone lived life to the fullest in the town. They're always happy there and cheerful, like nothing could bother them. Saihara hadn't been back in five years. Five lonesome, yearning years.

Bad things happened to Saihara in that happy little town. Someone hurt him, whom everyone told him to love, and someone who was supposed to love him. Ever since he realised the true nature behind that manipulative incident, Saihara began gravitating towards the outskirts of town. Everyone talked about him, as they always did when someone started the process of becoming an outsider. He began known as the boy who danced between worlds. No one liked outsiders.

Eventually, Saihara found himself standing at the edge, where he lived for five long years. Sometimes he appeared on the outskirts again but it never lasted long. Most of the time, Saihara was a few steps from the edge, longing to swim amongst that glittery cloud.

Occasionally, Saihara's old friends visited. When they found themselves approaching the edge, they'd come to Saihara for help to return home. They knew he was an expert in how to handle the edge's gloomy aura and heart-crushing atmosphere. Every time they asked, he helped no matter what, even if it pushed him over the edge. Each time, he succeeded and they returned to the town to continue their merry lives.

Saihara sometimes missed his old life in the town, but he'd never return. After so long on the cliff he didn't know if he could assimilate back to what he enjoyed. The harder he tried to approach his old home, the further his feet travelled from it.

He noticed three people approaching him and recognised them as friends. They waved and he waved back, happy to see them after a few months of no contact. One by one, they began approaching as they always did, lining up for the man's help. Saihara could deny helping them, but why would he? That would make him a horrible friend and being a decent person was the only positive thing about him.

Akamatsu smiled. "I have a performance happening soon!" Saihara smiled in return. She loved playing the piano but Saihara wished he could return to the town to witness a show. "I'm terrified to get on stage in front of everyone."

"You got this," Saihara smiled. He took her hands in his. "You've done this so many times that I've lost count, this time won't be any different. You're the best pianist I've met, if anyone can succeed, it's you."

"Thank you!" Akamatsu giggled and hugged him tightly. Saihara smiled and took a step back when she turned and skipped toward the town.

Next was Shirogane. "I'm trying to make my newest cosplay but it's just not working! It keeps falling apart!" She whined, tears forming behind her glasses.

"Maybe you could practice on scrap fabric?" Saihara suggested. He didn't know anything about sewing, but he'd still try to help. "Practice with different techniques to find one that works. Perhaps the usual one you use isn't the best." Thanking Saihara, Shirogane smiled wide and returned to the town behind Akamatsu. Watching her leave, he took another step toward the edge, happy to help someone else.

His last friend crossed her arms, glaring at him. She never seemed happy but never left the town. "How am I supposed to love?" Ah, Harukawa had a common problem with relationships. Saihara had never been in a healthy relationship himself, but he'd help in any way he could so Harukawa didn't repeat his mistakes.

"It's different per person," he began. "Listen to your heart, it tends to be right in these cases."

Harukawa hummed, her crimson eyes narrowing. "My heart wants to spend the rest of my life with Momota," she whispered.

"Go for it then, what do you have to lose?" Saihara smiled, taking another step backward.

"Momota," the brunette sighed. "Everything could go wrong."

Saihara smiled, hoping to help calm her since physical contact made the woman uncomfortable. "Or nothing could. Momota might return your feelings and you'll be in a happy relationship together. If it does go bad, then you'll find the right person. Besides, Momota isn't the type of person to ignore you, even if you killed someone."

She nodded and turned, returning to the town without another word. Saihara sadly waved, taking one last step backward.

Now he's alone again, as always.

People came to him when they needed help, he rarely had casual conversations with anyone. Sometimes his family visited just to berate him before they could return home. He and Ouma used to all the time, they'd spend all of their spare time together, but he had to return home eventually once Saihara helped him out of his rut. Saihara didn't mind helping though, he'd rather suffer as an outcast than see loved ones in the same situation.

Turning around, Saihara stumbled as he realised his feet were teetering on the edge. He rarely saw people come this close, but Saihara knew this place as home.

Staring down at the glittery cloud, a soft smile tugged at Saihara's lips. Something beckoned him to swim amongst that fluffy mass, begged him to fall. It felt as if someone stood behind him and held his shoulders, whispering encouragements into his ear.

Glancing around, Saihara noticed not a soul in sight. Even the wind slowed, flora pausing to watch his next move. His friends left to enjoy their lives without him, leaving him alone again. He stared down at the cloud again.

Raising his foot, Saihara let himself fall. The wind screamed in his ears as he plummeted toward the cloud. Thunder clapped through the sky, signalling another lost outcast to the society that hated them.

Maybe the next place could be happier.