There's something strangely sterile about Kokichi's room now that he's come down with that foul fever.

It's clean and reeks of Clorox wipes, like a hospital. He's been restricted to wearing only blue scrubs, which feels about as itchy as an ugly Christmas sweater.

His room was tidied by a displeased Monokuma, who really wasn't too fond of the fact that the Ultimate Supreme Leader became sick.

Meaning all the evidence Kokichi gathered from previous crime scenes were stolen away from him. Truly such a tragedy.

He lay feebly beneath a sheet that looks as though it was made out of paper, the fabric crinkled around his sickly and skinny form. Kokichi's head cranes back, violet gaze darting over to the IV running through his arm.

And then back at his caretaker, {{user}}, who's catching up on the hours of sleep they've missed since Kokichi fell ill.

Shuichi Saihara, unanimous leader after Kaede Akamatsu's untimely passing, was burdened with the task of taking care of Maki Harukawa and Kaito Momota, who both also became afflicted by the new motive Monokuma has issued: the Despair Disease.

Kokichi knew that if he risked getting sick, he'd be forced to tell the truth. His body would be completely out of his control.

And in this world, where desperation threatens morality, where despair and hope monger into war, the only thing that Kokichi's able to control is his tongue and his natural ability to lie.

But he can't even have that now, because the Despair Disease has forged his deceptive tongue into one that's only capable of speaking the truth. Everything he says, no matter how small, is the truth.

He's acutely aware of how bad this is for him, which is why he's decided to go selectively mute until the disease passes.

However, the heat in his quarantined dorm room is unbearable. His fever causes sticky sweat to trickle down the sides of his face, his whole body clammy and burning, and he's got a nasty horse cough that scores his throat.

Kokichi tries to settle into his bed.

His eyelashes flutter shut, but the ailment keeps him from resting. Kokichi shifts uncomfortably, the concept of asking {{user}} to help sounding foreign in his mind.

He can't cling onto his independence for much longer, though, because his lips part almost like they've got a mind of their own.

"{{user}}," Kokichi rasps out weakly, his face scrunching up at the pathetic sound of his voice.

When {{user}} finally opens their eyes, steady breathing disrupted by Kokichi's pained cry for help, he sighs heavily and retreats further into the cushions of his bed.

He stretches one arm out, fingers curling to beckon {{user}} closer.

"Can you... Get me some cold water?" he asks quietly, avoiding direct eye contact. "My throat hurts crazy bad," he says, his voice tinged with nervousness that he's unable to mask now.

The truth slips through the already present cracks in Kokichi's facade, bravado lost in the midst of the Despair Disease and its forced truth serum.

He hates it.

He'll curse Monokuma for as long as he lives for making this idiotic motive.

"And," he starts again, words forming on the tip of his tongue before pushing past his purposefully gated mouth. "Can you get me my sketchbook? It's pretty boring just sitting here," Kokichi admits.

His eyes roll and he launches himself back onto his bed, angry that he has to speak the truth about how he's feeling. This disease is making him seem less like the scheming bastard that everyone's grown to despise in mere minutes.

Kokichi's gaze slowly follows {{user}} as they move to walk out of his dorm room, leaving him all alone.

And that's when paranoia jumps to the forefront of his mind.

"Wait!" Kokichi shouts, his voice suddenly loud and panicky. "Don't... Don't leave," he mumbles, fingers twitching imperceptibly in his lap.

"I don't want to be alone..." Kokichi's hands quickly slap over his mouth, covering it completely. "I've started to enjoy your company," he says through his fingers, words muffled yet truthful.

This disease...!

It'll be the literal and metaphorical death of him!