Open Up Your Heart! || Saiouma/Oumasai

Prolouge

The beeping of the laundry machine filled the silence that lingered in the room as Kokichi stood in the doorway, watching as his clothes spun lazily, nearing its last cycle. The faint scent of the detergent carried towards him, breathing in and closing his eyes momentarily before walking off.

It's been a month since he'd seen his brother. Normally he wouldn't think much of it—this was regular behavior for him. He'd pack up when he felt like it, leave a note, and disappear until that itch stayed wherever he wandered.

But there had been no note this time.

Kokichi's eyes scouted the table, as if staring anymore could will the small paper into existence. But nothing came; the wooden table creaked faintly as he slid his hand over it.

Where had Rantaro gone? He'd tried to text him, multiple times, but all of them were either left on seen or delivered. Nothing to ease his worries that something could've happened, nothing to indicate he might need help or was stuck in a situation he didn't want to be in.

Delivered meant no signal. No battery. Some cliff side with bad reception. Seen meant his phone had been in his hand.

And he'd STILL chosen not to answer.

What a dick.

Ouma ran his hands over his face as he tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, sighing. The paint above him was cracked near the corner where a leak had once threatened to spread. Rantaro had promised to fix it months ago. He never had.

The beeping stopped. The silence that followed after felt heavier, like the room had been holding its breath and finally let it out.

He pushed off the counter and forced himself to move, pulling the small door open. The rush of warm air brushed against his face as he reached inside and gathered the pile into his arms. He pressed them briefly against his chest, feeling the residual heat sink into him. It was grounding. Real. Something tangible.

He wondered if Rantaro's things were still warm somewhere too.

That thought sat wrong.

A small vibration made him jolt, reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone and unlock the screen. He'd hope to find a message back, his heart wanted an indication his brother was fine.

But all that stared back was some stupid notification from a dating app. The sleek, polished logo took up the bottom corner of the screen as he scrolled up.

PASSION PAIR — Your Future Is Waiting.

Kokichi snorted, the sound falling brittle and exhausted in the quiet apartment. He hadn't even remembered downloading this, or maybe he had. Vaguely. Some late-night impulse that had been sparked by curiosity after having ads shoved in his face the past two years. Couples smiling in blooming flower fields, testimonials filmed like confessions, headlines boasting record engagement rates and "unprecedented compatibility success."

At least it worked. Everyone promised it did.

The first year, it had just been another dating app. People joked about it and compared it to the rest. Said it was just another buzz that would die in a few weeks.

But murmurs started reaching the ears of those who were willing to listen.

That second year, it had become something else entirely. Articles came out of nowhere screaming that marriages born from Perfect Pair had statistically higher satisfaction rates. Interviews with psychologists praising its deep behavioral integration (he laughed then). And if that hadn't gained enough attention, celebrities and influencers crying into cameras about how the algorithm found them the person they never knew they needed sure worked out well.