
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1095233.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Dangan_Ronpa
  Relationship:
      One-Sided_-_Relationship, Fukawa_Touko/Kuwata_Leon
  Character:
      Fukawa_Touko, Kuwata_Leon, Boy_Who_Moved_To_Shikoku_(Dangan_Ronpa),
      Genocider_Syo
  Additional Tags:
      Snuff, Self-Loathing, Serial_Killers, General_Sexualized_Creepiness,
      Dissociative_Identity_Disorder, Slut_Shaming
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-22 Words: 1025
****** A Thousand Cuts or a Thousand Knocks ******
by Teakay
Summary
     For a prompt on the kink meme (http://
     superhighschoollevelsmut.dreamwidth.org/2369.html?thread=1231425):
     "Someone gets turned on watching an execution. Guilt ensues."
     Touko Fukawa watches a boy die in front of her.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
"What... what.... what was that?"
Like if she put the question out there someone would give a different answer
than the one she already had, someone would make it not true, the wet between
her thighs would dry up in an instant.
She hadn't had to see Maizono. No one made her look at Maizono. Not even what
happened in the gym just a few hours ago was this bad. Enoshima was pretty in
that trashy bleach-blonde too-tight too-short kogal way but after all she was a
girland her tits weren't as big as Asahina's. And it was over fast. She didn't
even scream, just choked something out, sounding puzzled as blood poured from
her mouth, before crumpling to the floor. Maybe she didn't even have time to
really feel the spears through her.
Kuwata, now, Kuwata wasn't the kind of boy she liked, so loud so brash so
insensitive. Just as trashy as Enoshima, how many earrings did one ear need?
Why would she ever have to fear Syo impaling someone who'd willingly impaled
himselfso many times? When he stuck out his tongue and showed off what he'd
done to it – ugh! That ridiculous dye job. And that horrible shirt with the
bloody skull she always had to avert her eyes from. She should've known he was
the murderer. But he screamed and begged in terror and in agony and his screams
were just the same as the ones she heard in her nightmares, Syo's dreams
(sometimes she would wake up from those dreams with a hand down her underwear
and her fingers slick and pull out that hand suppressing a shriek).
(Like her father used to say with his breath full of beer: all cats are gray in
the dark)
She should've shut her eyes, she should've. But she didn't, standing there
gathered outside the fence with all the rest, like an idiot, like a truly
depraved and rotten girl she watched.
He'd started screaming in the little parody of a courtroom with words any boy –
any person – could use: No please stop this please I'm begging you nonononono I
don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! No! No – !And then
mercifully the collar that snapped shut around his neck choked him off as it
dragged him out of the room, one hand desperately outstretched and Touko didn't
feel as bad as she might've about not reaching out for it because no one else
did.
(Other words that leaked into her dreams: Please don't. Please don't. I have a
wife, I have a baby, I have a little girl. Please. You're hurting me, Fukawa-
san, please – I love you. I love you, I really do, you don't have to do this,
we can have so much more time together. Please let me go –)
(After that time when she woke up suddenly in a back alley of Matsuyama,
Shikoku, she started hearing Kazukiyo Kanno's voice, older now cracking
sobbing: I'm sorry, Fukawa-san, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, we were kids,
we were inelementary school, I was stupid, please please please –)
For a moment down in the room with the chain-link fence and the spotlights and
the scoreboard he was silent. His arms bound pinning his hands at his throat
trying to tear off the collar. Staring at the cannon, past the cannon at them,
his eyes large and pleading (just what did he want them to do? Enoshima's blood
was barely dry). Touko didn't watch sports, wasn't familiar with their
paraphernalia. For too long she didn't understand.
For the first few seconds the cannon fired slow, one at a time, all she heard
from Kuwata was hard breathing, grunts and gasps with each impact, then the
balls started coming faster and harder – Oh, he was gasping now, ah, oh, oh no,
no – ! and then quite suddenly as probably something cracked or ruptured he
screamed again, wordless with shock and pain, and she clapped her hands to her
ears as a jolt went through her gut but it wasn't enough, never was enough.
He didn't scream through the whole thing. Nobody had the lungs for that. The
screams he got out as he jerked and convulsed against the pole until he finally
ran out of air for good were bad enough on their own. The screams and the
whimpers and the occasional sobbing little cries please. No. Please. Help me.
Please.And soon his skin broke and the blood started to fly and Touko clutched
at her hair and watched. In the dark in the back of her brain Syo uncoiled,
flicking out her tongue like a snake testing the air. No, not here, not now!
Baseballs,snickered Syo. How creative. How woefully inefficient!

And then quite suddenly the sound stopped, all the sounds stopped. The gate
slid back.
A change in lighting left Kuwata's body in merciful silhouette. Bad enough
seeing it hang limp from the collar still round his neck, arms fallen by his
sides, feet dangling centimeters from the ground. That jacket and those
sneakers weren't nearly so white any longer. There was real gore on his shirt.
At least his arms weren't fixed in place by scissor blades. At least it wasn't
Syo who did this. It wasn't her, even if dirty rotten girl that she was –
Fujisaki was on her knees and sobbing. Asahina looked like she was going to
throw up. Even Togami – so cool, so unruffled – looked unsettled.
And now, surely, was the time to do something. Someone could make their way
across the cluttered floor thick with baseballs and at least try to take him
down, carry the body back up so they could have some kind of funeral for him
and Maizono and Enoshima. What they would do with the bodies afterward, though,
that was the question. Maybe the incinerator where Kuwata's shirt hadn't
entirely burned. It would be poetically fitting, wouldn't it.
Not her, though, with her legs shaking and her underwear soaked. Weak scared
Fukawa who couldn't stand blood. Not her. And, she soon saw, not anyone else.
Finally she shut her eyes.
End Notes
     In Free Time Events, Syo mentions following her "first love" to
     Shikoku to kill him. According to Fukawa's regular personality, an
     elementary school classmate she wrote a love letter to when he was
     about to move to Shikoku tacked the letter up in public to be laughed
     at. One of the victims Naegi reads about in the library casefile is
     only fourteen years old.
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