{You Can Tell Me Anything} ~ Oumasai

Restoration

*Ouma's POV*

"Wow, did you hear that?"

The voice is broken and full of static, like it's coming from a radio. Ouma's eyes peel open and he carefully scans the area. There's nothing there. Not a person in sight, not a thing in sight, not an anything in sight. The world is just a black void, deprived of noise, visuals, and feelings. It's broken.

Ouma raises an eyebrow curiously. "Did I hear what?"

"The thud."

The thud?

"What do you mean?"

The voice laughs a wicked laugh, the static adding a new factor of uneasiness to the situation. "The body."

Ouma thinks hard, the words bouncing off his ears, and shakes his head in frustration. "I don't get it."

"Why, Saihara-kun, of course."

The small boy feels his heart stop. He grabs his head and his temples pulse from underneath his hands. His head hurts, more than it normally would. He grits his teeth in aggravation, squeezing his eyes shut.

"What did you...do to Saihara-chan?"

"You really care him, don't you? You should see it for yourself," the voice echoes.

"How do I—"

"Silly, you just need to wake up."

Ouma pulls his hands away from his head and closes his eyes slowly, trying to process the nonsense the voice is speaking.

Wake up?

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Ouma keeps his eyes shut. The lights are bright, piercing his eyes with a pain sharper than daggers. His head hurts immensely. It's as if something hit him, or like he fell and banged his head on the floor, or on a nearby object. He reaches his hand up to his head and rubs it gently, wincing when his hand comes into contact with the bump that had formed. What happened? Where am I?

He hears the sounds of a soft breathing to the right of him, which causes him to open his eyes, fighting against the pain they felt from the light. When he rolls over, he sees a body lying only inches away, their back facing Ouma. They have short, black hair that is tangled into a mess, and a bump is visible on the back of their head. Their outfit is wrinkly and...a maid's dress?

Saihara? Ouma sits up slowly, clenching his teeth together to ignore the pain. Once up, he plants is hands on the ground and slowly peers over the body's shoulder, trying to get a clear look at their face. And, just as he had suspect, there lay Saihara, his head resting on his hands, eyes closed as if he is in a peaceful sleep.

After seeing the boy's bruised knees, the memories Ouma had forgotten start flooding back into his head. He was carrying Saihara back to the former's dorm, and the exhaustion took over quicker than anticipated. Although, it was to be expected. After all, Ouma didn't exercise much, and his lungs weren't the strongest.

He reaches out a hand, about to shake Saihara awake, when he notices something on the face of his hand: a bandage. Ouma stares at it and raises an eyebrow. When did I put on a band-aid?

Saihara turns over, snow facing Ouma. A tiny smile forms on the detective's face in his sleep, and he snuggles deeper into the pillow his head rests on. Ouma looks around​, taking in his surrounding for the first time since he's awoken. He's in a dorm. It's not his own, and from his memory, it's not Saihara's. These walls look plain, lacking in any decoration or added details to make it unique. It's almost like this person doesn't embrace their ultimate talent, or they are just a rather boring individual.