[Kokichi fawns over his mega crush, food, and flirts before the plot continues. It's mostly about Kokichi's past, next (if you watched K-1) is Class Fight 😉 tho the name is pretty self explanatory 😆]
As the door shut, Kokichi felt a smile prick his lips. A warm wash of fluttery touch ran down his skin, sending tremors of giddiness to his nerves. It felt so nice to have a painless bond emotion. As dark emotions are torture, happy emotions felt so... Addicting, in a sense.
As if he wanted to feel that euphoric sensation forever. He let his head fall back to the pillow. His fingertips dancing over his cheeks that had brightened since seeing him. Hearing him. Allowing himself to enjoy the shock of delight he gets every time he touches the other. Not in a dirty way, of course not. Having Shuichi in his hands was the same as feeling as though he could protect him.
Kokichi held his hands up over his face. Admiring the bandaids and cleaned cuts coating his fingers. Ah, he still has the gentle touch stained into his mind. The ticklish feeling of those soft hands grazing his skin, followed by a deserved wash of stinging, then cured with a bandaid. Oh, how he placed it so delicately. Wrapping the bandaid around the cut with such tenderness.
Yet not even that struck him the hardest. Yes, Shuichi held his hand and took care of him, as if he wasn't riddled in flaws. When he was working off his shoes and scooting off his socks, revealing more cuts and bruises, ah. He was trying to cover his burning face as he felt him fix his open splits. With dried blood being cleaned, bandages shielding them, Kokichi's face had been a helpless rosy red.
He sighed. Tossing up the blanket and burying himself under the covers. He needed time to thaw from the numbing sense of hopeless love. He took another deep breath, holding it longer before letting go. He doubted his dorm had a pillow and blanket.
So Kokichi let himself indulge in the warmth of the covers, the softness of the mattress, and a pluffed pillow to cradle his head. Shuichi might not ever let him sleep here again,
So he let himself drift off.
-=o=-
"...Kokichi."
He was awake the moment the door opened. Even if he had been in a deep sleep. A sudden outburst of noise, soft or loud, will jolt him from the dead no matter the exhaustion.
For a moment his heart jumped to his throat, as he opened his eyes, he expected to be lying on his stiff bed in the Detention Center. With the figure of a foe about to grab a strong grip around his wrist. Though, much to his relief, it wasn't a creepy doctor-ish looking man looming over him.
Instead, Shuichi was standing by him. Much time must have passed, since the shadow in the room was dim with a lack of sun. Kokichi let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Ah-haha, you scared me Shuichi. You should speak softer when waking me next time." He sat up, blinking at Shuichi who seemed to be holding something.
"Oh, sorry..." He said, softer, as requested. Kokichi pushed himself back so his back was to the bedframe, and his legs sat crisscrossed. Shuichi sat down, holding a small container. "You're, hungry, right?" He said, placing his item between them. Pushing it closer to Kokichi.
Kokichi tilted his head as he stared at his gift. As he identified it, his jaw dropped as his hand covered his mouth in clear surprise. "Is..." He reached forward and held it in his hands. "Is this sushi...?" It was pitiful how his tone heightened as he asked. Staring in disbelief at a portion of food he hasn't had in years.
Shuichi nodded. "...They didn't have tuna, but I hope salmon would do."
Kokichi, in excitement, pried off the top off the container. Tossing it on the floor as he stared with stars shimmering in his violets. Big full rice rolls stared back, with a small pack of soy sauce on the side, the squirt of wasabi, and pile of ginger. Accompanied by chopsticks. He picked them up and split them.
"I almost forgot how to hold these!" He laughed, picking up one roll, with avocado, cucumber and that chunk of salmon. He placed the food bit in his mouth and chewed slowly. Savoring the taste of squishy rice, that slight tang of over-ripened Avacado, and sticking the chopsticks in his mouth to rip open the pack of soy sauce.
It tasted so artificial. But it brought him back home. Back to when for minor holidays, He'd push over a chair to the counter next to Shuichi. They'd pull out all the ingredients and just make the worst sushi ever. But after, when they'd eat it. It either tasted awesome, or they'd end up with a tongue assaulted with bitterness. Their biggest mistake had always been too much of one item.
Salmon ruins sushi if it's more of a quantity than the rice. So he remembers the taste well. There were only six rolls, so Kokichi cherished each one. Even taking bits of wasabi and smearing it on the top. He forgot Shuichi was sitting there, but when he remembered, he looked up to see him smiling softly.
He swallowed the last one and wished there were more. "Ah..." He sighed. "I missed that..."
"Has it really been that long?" Shuichi asked, pulling something else out of the bag he smuggled. Kokichi nodded as he licked his lips. Erasing the salty taste of soy as the last bit of his nostalgic meal.
"I have eaten dry rice and weeks old smoked fish for years." He said in distaste. "I forgot what it tasted like... Actual food is heavenly." At that, Shuichi pulled forward a bottle of something. When his eyes glazed over the brand, he didn't bother hiding his slackened jaw.
"P-Panta...!?" He sputtered breathlessly. Lurching forward and grabbing the grape drink and without hesitation, he screwed open the top and tipped it back into his soda-starved mouth. The fizz buried into his weakened tongue, the grape overwhelming his dry taste-buds into a special place in his heart.
Halfway through the bottle, he gulped down one last rush of childhood. Before wanting to save the rest. "Oh! Shuichi you are my lifesaver!" He exclaimed. Grabbing Shuichi's wrist and kissing the back of his hand. All in a spurt of gratitude. "...I've been reawakened, revived, реанимированный, salvados, erlöst, all by my drink that fuels my very existence."
The string of spat out words had Shuichi tripping into a sudden chuckle. That faded into an extended laugh. This halted Kokichi's moving lips. Spurring his face to jump the color palette to deep pink. "What? Hey, I'm just happy, stop laughing!" he shoved him playfully, but flared with embarrassment.
Shuichi stifled his jests. "N-Nothing, Kokichi, it's nothing... I just miss it too. You, being... You."
Kokichi dropped his head to stare at his lap. "Ah-haha... Is that it." What else was he to utter? Inadvertently Shuichi said he missed him. Just as much as he missed Shuichi. He looked up, "Where's Kai-diot?"
Shuichi notices the change of subject, and allowed it. Thankfully. "He's hanging out with others. Oh, and, I brought one more thing."
Kokichi watched as Shuichi pulled out two clementines. His smiled returned with appreciation, and he wished he could show how much his heart leaped at the sight. Though, it wasn't just his fruit he loved so much. It was the fact that Shuichi had remembered.
Once he had them in his hands, he slipped them into his pockets. "I'm gonna save them..." He said softly. Not wanting to get rid of them too quickly. After that, he popped up from the bed and looked around for his socks and shoes. "Thanks for letting me steal your bed, but I'm gonna check out my roommate!"
"Alright, see you tomorrow?"
"Hm? Oh yeah! Wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see you ever." Not after five unruly years.
He spotted his footwear and grabbed them to slip on quickly. He skipped over to the door, but before he left, he looked back at Shuichi. Who sat at the bed, staring off into the air, with a soft haze glossing over his eyes. The slightest smile pricking his unclaimed lips. The sight warmed his heart, knowing that, as he left, Shuichi was getting a warm positive bond reaction.
As he practically skipped down the hall, he glanced at his watch that had been blaring his room number for hours. Room 510. So he was two floors above Shuichi. Nice.
He hopped up the stairs, ignoring the aches that were overlapped with giddiness. He smiled so broadly as he skimmed the dorm numbers. Finally stopping in front of room 510. Begrudgingly stepping off cloud 9 as he beeped himself in.
What was inconvenient about being an outcast is that his dorm room doesn't stay the same. Nor does his roommate. What happens is that Delinquents die, rooms change. Normal students commit suicide. Dorms empty, and more people go berserk. So his sleeping chambers change and shift as life is stolen away each year.
He opened the door and was greeted with an almost relieving sight. There was a familiar boy laying on the right side bed of the room. Gazing off into space, shining in trackers as usual.
"Ah~! Whaddya know!" He exclaimed, waltzing into the room and shutting the door behind him. Announcing his arrival, and watching with pleasure as the boy jolted in surprise. Sitting up to gaze at his visitor- or more so, new roommate.
Kokichi plopped down at his bed. Which as predicted did not offer the luxury of a pillow, nor a blanket. Though, kudos to them for a squishy mattress. "Hi." Kokichi said flatly to his new roommate, who still stared at him with their mouth hanging open.
"...You've got to be kidding." They muttered. "...What is my luck? I get to sleep in the same premisses as you, out of all people...?" Kokichi pouted, such awful words hinting at their future rivalry. Not if he could help it.
It was the boy he sat next to on the way here, Kiibo. The noobie delinquent with white-haired that all gravitated to one side. "Don't fret Kiiboy! It was quite obvious our meeting before was foreshadowing our time together! It was predestined." He plucked the clementines out of his pockets. "And as a token of my friendship, here!" He tossed one to him, which Kiibo almost dropped.
"...Fruit?" Kiibo said softly as he looked it over in his hands. As if to double-check if it wasn't plastic, or poisoned. Kokichi tossed his own up and down in his hand, nodding with a cheeky smile.
"Sure is! Though, I'm saving mine for the morning. They seem in super good shape, so it won't rot or something." He placed him on his bedside table. He doubts Kiibo would snag it. Though he might break once in a while, he seemed to have fairness in his struggling heart.
He watched Kiibo peel the fruit and section off the pieces. Placing each one in his mouth, and just savoring the citrus probably coating his tongue. Kokichi had nothing better to do except lie down and watch. Back then, if times never changed. Pulling out a new iPhone and headphones would be good right about now.
"Hey, Kokichi?"
Kokichi blinked at him, "What? Are you gonna ask me if it's poisoned now? A bit too late bud." A look of horror flickered across the other's face before he probably assumed Kokichi was joking. Kiibo tossed the peel in the trash that was at the end of his bed.
"No. No, I probably... would be dead by now. But, thinking back on it now. You're... Kokichi. Kokichi Ouma... The name sparks familiarity. Yet I can't place it." He placed a fisted hand to his chin in thought, his other hand around his elbow to support his arm. "...Ah! I remember!" He turned back to Kokichi as if the case had been cracked.
He pointed at him. "You're the kid in Elementary, who always used to draw crude pictures on the board right before the teacher came in." He sat back, satisfied with himself. "We weren't in the same class, but when we did conjointed lessons, you'd always flick pencils at me. Maybe it happened once, or twice. But I never got mad at you."
Kokichi lifted an eyebrow at him. Had he really met him before? Well, it doesn't sound like a proper introduction. Now that he thought about it, the wimpy white spiky-haired kid does grace his memory somewhat. He laughed at the vague memory. "Ha! At least I've traumatized one person. I remember I stopped doing it at you. Cause you reacted so boringly." he chuckled.
Kiibo hummed. His face turning from distaste to pity. "You know why?" He said. "You don't know why, do you?"
"Why what?"
"Why I never got mad at you."
Kokichi shrugged. "Cause you couldn't carry such a hate-filled emotion at a young age? I don't know, and frankly, I don't care." As much as he didn't care, he was still curious. He stared back at the ceiling, wondering what he meant. And already knowing Kiibo would say it anyway.
Kiibo sighed. As if the words he was trying to say just couldn't come out right away. "...I got a bloody nose one morning, in school. Since sometimes the cold did that to me, it being winter at the time." He paused, to check to see if Kokichi was listening. Not that he had a choice. "...The nurse was helping me when a teacher came in with you."
Kokichi faced him again. He, as a child, wasn't clumsy but went to the nurse often to patch up a knee or two. Even the kind nurse called him the most injury-prone child yet.
"You had bruises around your neck. Dark ones too."
At that, he felt himself stiffen. Kiibo continued without realizing his sudden discomfort.
"It was after a long weekend since the previous Friday was a snow day. I knew by then bruises took a day or two to really set in, but I wondered why you'd have ones around your neck." Kiibo frowned at the thought. "You had a swollen lip, and you seemed to of been crying... I went home after that day and told my mother. She said you were just a trouble maker, but..."
"But?" Kokichi echoed. Wanting him to drop the topic, but he hasn't talked about his old home with any person in so long. He almost wanted this.
"I..." He hesitated. "I think you were hurt at home. I know you got into little scuffles here and there, but elementary school children wouldn't carry that much strength to... leave such a mark." he looked over to Kokichi to see how he was doing. "So, I'm not surprised you became a delinquent."
Kokichi offered a scoff, but that's it. He turned on his side away from Kiibo. Kicking off his shoes in the process.
Yeah, his childhood wasn't very pleasant.
-=o=-
[Flashing back six years ago]
He misses no more other than his friends, and his freedom. His home life would be rather forgotten than anything else. Not that he lived in a run-down shack with a chamber pot and rotten carrots. He lived in a very well-kept home. Clean house, a comfortable bedroom to rest whenever he slept. He was fed good food, he had filtered water.
The environment was perfect. Just, the people inside who he lived with, was not so well-appreciated.
"Kokichi, how was your first day?"
He, his father, and mother sat around a moderately small dinner table. The typical Japanese set up, with a usual low table with cushions to sit on. Even the meal was traditional since his father is a man of heavy tradition. It was a very rich bowl of ramen. With the meat and vegetables, minced green onion, mushrooms, and other ingredients that kick the flavor up a few notches.
Kokichi was a picky eater when he was younger but after these exotic meals over the years, he grew to really like them. Since it made the junk food he snagged from other kids at school all the more special. "...Uh, fine?" He responded, slurping in another mouthful of noodles.
"Just fine?" His mother said, giving worried glances between him and his father.
"Yep." He ensured. "It was literally the first day. How special is it gonna be?" He fished out another stray noodle hanging out of his bowl. He was full, having eaten a good portion. Only the broth was left, and he already drank enough of it.
"Did you meet new kids?" She prodded. Trying to pull a decent conversation out of him. Since most of the exchanged words happened between her and her husband.
Kokichi glanced at his father. "...Yes." He admitted. Dropping his chopsticks beside the bowl on a napkin. "But I kinda knew them before, cause they went to the summer camp I went to. So I re-met them! Other than that, we got lectured on behavior and what-not."
He looked across the table, solely at his mother, since he felt the prickling icy stare of his father. Who had the deepest voice that made his hair stand on end. It was gravelly, and dominated the air, easily stomping out any who wish to speak, or were speaking. "What's their name." He asked with a skeptical look in his eyes.
Kokichi looked him in the eyes. Which was a difficult feat to get over. Since his eyes were pools of black, with the thinnest color of dark purple around the fully widened pupil. His expression was always impossible to read. Looking into his eyes was similar to looking into the eyes of a corpse.
His eyes were dead. The pale skin he inherited from that man did nothing but irk him more. Absolutely emotionless down to the very marrow. Kokichi pretended to try to remember their name. "Ah- I think it was Ryoma! I forgot their surname." He smiled, but the stare of his father hardened.
He thought he would have gotten away with that. But from the glare digging into his eyes, he was caught. He felt his blood run cold as his father calmly stood from the table.
His father, Ouma Osen, was a brilliant man. He was a genius in a sense. Yet with so much knowledge, he abuses it to do other things. Not only that, but he was strong physically. Kokichi, as a very young child, remembered when they used to exchange hugs. It was equal to embracing a sculpted rock.
He stood next to Kokichi, with a strong hand grasping at his hair, pulling his head back so he looked straight up. Staring back into the pools of void in his father's face. "There wasn't a boy named Ryoma in your camp." He said flatly. Kokichi forgot he looked at the list of names of those who'd be in the camp.
Which was just a normal summer camp. Swimming, forest paths, bunking with kids at an unconditioned cabin. His father had a remarkable memory. One look was all it took to remember 26 names. Kokichi tried to keep as calm as his father, so he wouldn't appear so weak.
To look better, he'd throw in a last ditch effort to impress him. He had extreme language studies during his school day. That his Father pays for him to attend. "Przepraszam, ojcze...J-Ja tylko żartowałem." He said feebly, wincing as his hair pulled too much at his scalp. I'm sorry, Father. I was just kidding.
"Nie dbam o to." I don't care. He said back, even without losing his composure, it sounded as threatening as it might be yelling. "What's the boys' name." He asked. Giving a subtle jerk to his head for an honest answer.
"...Amami Rantaro." He said, hoping he'd let go. It was hurting now. At last, his father's hand released his head, but he didn't move back to his seat.
"Yes, good." He said softly but looked displeased. "But you still lied to me." He muttered, reaching forward, to grab Kokichi's nearly empty bowl of ramen broth. "Did you know, that some stains, on carpets, or clothes, don't wash out with just water?"
Kokichi raised an eyebrow at this. "...Uh, yeah?"
"They need more, pungent things to wash them away." He continued. "Put this into your undeveloped mind. Lying is a stain. When a child is riddled in lies, what do you consider that child?" He towered over Kokichi as he waited on an answer.
Kokichi felt his mouth run dry. "... A stain." He had other thoughts he'd like to say, but to avoid a further consequence, he'd stay quiet this time.
Osen nodded. "I hope you realized what part you're playing right now. In this clean household." Again, he pauses. All to hold pointless suspension. "The stain, so, remember this,"
He shoved Kokichi's head down so he stared at his lap. Only to feel the gross oily feeling of the ramen broth being poured onto his head. It wasn't carelessly dumped, it was slow, like pouring water into a cup from a pitcher. You'd want to be slow, and cautious. His father probably savored the feeling of belittling him.
Kokichi shuttered when it dripped down his back. Soaking the top of his shoulders, and any that slid off his face fell into his lap. Of course, his father wouldn't risk having it rub into the cushion or floor. He placed the bowl on top of his head once empty. "Clean up after, won't you?" With that, he headed for his office down the hall. Pausing once, to tell his wife to wash Kokichi after his chore is finished.
Kokichi took the bowl off his head. He wasn't angry, since those who anger him had the ability to control him. But he definitely wasn't happy. "You're the biggest stain there is," Kokichi said, just as calm. He saw his father pause. So he continued. "Who else had I taken after. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, y'know."
Truth be told, he was cowering on the inside. At least all he did was look at his wife. "Take care of him for me, I'll be waiting for you in bed." He continued to his room. Kokichi looked up to his mother.
"...You don't have to." Kokichi muttered. His mother sighed, that look of sorrow instilled in her eyes. His mother, Ouma Kokoro, previously Jiyu Kokoro, was practically in chains next to him. She was smart, but poorly weakened by her good heart. Ah- he wouldn't say weakened. More so a pushover than anything else. But in a good way, that was turned into a bad thing.
She picked up the bowls and chopsticks, doing his chore for him. She carried the bowls to the sink and tossed away the napkins. "Come here, Kokichi." She ordered quietly.
His mother did the discipline, while his father pulled the strings. Kokichi got up and stood by the sink next to her. She turned on the faucet and placed her hand on the back of his neck. One thing his mother was deceptive about, was her strength. She looks muscle-less, but whenever she struck him, he can tell at one point in her life she worked out.
She pushed his head down so the water hit his head. She loosely ran her fingers through his hair to rid of the ramen broth that soaked his head. It wasn't long till she picked out all the stray green onions. She turned off the faucet. Yet Kokichi still stayed hunched over the sink, sulking.
"Face me, Kokichi." She said firmly. With a sigh, he faced her, his shoulders sunken, and his hands behind his back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father leaning on the frame of the kitchen entrance, smirking. Kokichi glared at him. Before his mother could hit him against her will, he'd say a few words. "Why don't you do it." He asked, lazily staring at him. "Why don't you hit me when you are displeased with my behavior."
He only chuckled. "You care for her, don't you?" He waved a hand at her, allowing her to continue. Kokichi looked at her briefly, at the moment she slapped him. Burning his left cheek with the contact. He heard his voice in the background as he stared up at his mother who raised her hand again.
"If you cared, you'd behave. Otherwise, you're forcing her to assault you. This is your fault, not mine."
Again she hit him. But his cheek became numb with needle-like prickling pain. Desensitized by the sheer force of skin on skin. Out of frustration, Kokichi shot him a glare. "You're telling her to do this." He spat. "How would it be my fault? You coward. If you think I'm afraid of you, think again!" He had been hit twice already, that was enough punishment for a lie.
His mother turned back to the sink to rinse the bowls, ignoring them. As her husband would like.
Kokichi stood his ground as his father strode over to him and clasp his collar. He pulled him forward, out of the kitchen, down the hall to Kokichi's bedroom. The door was gently opened, walking in freely, where he pushed Kokichi on top of his bed. Osen's hand moved from his collar to firmly around his neck.
What made him so irking, was that his hand didn't latch onto his throat. Instead, he slowly slid his long thick fingers around his neck. Squeezing and building up pressure little by little. "You should be grateful I'm not the one bludgeoning you," he said softly. "...Because I can make your world hurt a lot more if I do your punishments."
Kokichi tried not to squirm underneath him. His feet dangled off the bed as the man's feet were planted securely to the floor, his shins grazing the bed's blanket that hung off the mattress. His body was so uncomfortably close to his little one. His hand squeezed tighter, almost closing Kokichi's airways completely.
He struggled to breathe, sputtering uselessly to gasp at air that choked up and down his throat.
"...If it makes you happy, I can come in here, in your room, any time I wish. And count off the things I think you did wrong. Even if I dream about your snarky tongue spitting lies, I'll wake up and come here to shake you awake into a nightmare." He promised it. Kokichi heard it in his voice.
His other hand found itself resting against his chest. Pushing down on his sternum to put stress on his ribs, opting to mimick his lungs losing space. As if they were being crushed. The hand around his neck pushed him forward, stretching his head from his shoulders, feeling the strain on his veins, his muscles, and skin, it felt as though he could decapitate him.
"Tomorrow, you'll tell anyone who notices your marks that you fought with the kids in your neighborhood. They won't believe you either way." He leaned in closer to his face. "Understood?"
Kokichi nodded fervently. Upon release, when the crushing hands left his fragile lithe body, he broke into sporadic coughing, choking on air as his suppressed lungs filled again with the air his father restricted from him. He shrunk in on himself as he heaved with forced breaths, feeling the eyes of his father on him.
"Have a good night." He said, mocking a kind fatherly tone. Leaving him to grab hold of his lungs capacity alone, and as the door shut, he was stuck in the dark.
Minutes later, he gained control of his breathing. Now cowering under the covers, massaging his sore neck. Grimacing each time his fingers circled around the area where fingernails dug into his sensitive skin. It was probably late, and he was tired, but he might have a bad dream if he sleeps. When he gets bad dreams, he wants someone to remind him he's okay.
Yet, he can't run to his parents. Only when his father was out on business, then he could. But he was here tonight, so would he risk it? No... He couldn't. So he curled up against his pillow, clutching his blanket as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Trying so hard not to cry.
When the door opened, he flinched. Tremors of fear radiating under his skin. He was too terrified to look to the door. In fear his father was there, waiting for him to look, so he could stride in and clasp those powerful hands around his small, snappable neck.
Light and soft footprints traveled across the floor. They sounded small, and soon his visitor was by his bed. Sitting down beside his trembling body, that was only shaking in reaction to his father's encounter.
A delicate hand circled his back, coaxing him to turned and let the blanket go. When he felt the aura of his mother, he looked, ashamed to have tears in his eyes. He wanted to be strong, stronger than this.
She said nothing, as she reached her arms around him. Pulling him into her kind embrace. "...I'm sorry." She whispered, "...No ten-year-old child should... Should be beaten." She kissed his forehead softly, rocking him by mother instinct, by wishing to protect him, to make him feel better. "...Believe me when I say Osen wasn't always like this."
Kokichi knew that. When he was five or so, he'd come skipping into the arms of his father after school. Showing him crappy drawings he made, and still have them hung up anyway. They used to laugh and smile together, then, one day it all shifted to discipline and new-ideas.
"I wish... I wish you could live freer. I wish he didn't hurt you, I wish I-I never hurt you..." She cried. "...I wish I could marry a new man, and give you a father who'd support you..." She laid him back down.
Kokichi nestles back into his bed. Staring longingly at his mother. "...Marry Ninsei." He muttered.
Ninsei was a man his mother met when Kokichi was seven. Ninsei was a trained nurse and was in the park at a bench studying some sort of book, while Kokoro sat at a bench beside the one Ninsei occupied. She was watching Kokichi fool around on the swings. When Kokichi, being the injury-prone child he was, had jumped off a swing a bit too high. Making a crash landing, that bloodied his knee and sprained his ankle.
Kokoro panicked since the cut on his knee was rather deep. It didn't help that Kokichi was sobbing uncontrollably, hoping that he'd get a lollipop to calm down. When Ninsei offered up his help. The ice started breaking from there.
Three years later, Kokichi still books it to Ninsei's house two blocks away to just hang out and chat. Complaining about his life, and other things like bragging about his friend Shuichi, who had the prettiest face above all others.
His mother laughed weakly as he suggested it. "...Marry Ninsei? He'd never love me in such a way...Go to bed. Please." She tucked him in and no sooner left.
The day he saw Shuichi's kitchen coated in blood, and the horror on his best friend's face, the first thing he thought about was if they killed his mother. When he turned and ran out the back door as Shuichi told him, he ran home, through the woods and beyond the field separating their house.
When he got home, he wishes he could unsee what he had the misfortune of seeing.
-=o=-
"K-Kokichi!"
Kokichi's eyes flew open at his name. A misgiven gasp pulled from his lips as he jolted awake. He felt his face sleek with a thin layer of sweat as he shook off the dream. Wiping his face and holding his fast breath in as he sat up. Seeing that the room was lit with sunlight, no longer dark with night. "...What." He asked, kicking his legs off the bed. Staring at Kiibo with a look of irritation.
Kiibo shrunk back a little. He was already up and even had his bed set. He was such a strange delinquent, he seemed more like a straight-A student than anything else. Who hadn't the balls to do anything out of line. "...S-Sorry." He looked away from him, facing the door. "You were... tossing and turning a lot. Muttering things here and there... I thought you were having a bad dream."
Kokichi scoffed. Slipping on a smile and standing up, stretching his arms as he did so. "Me? Bad dream? I was having a great dream you see, but the details might horrify you." He winked, shoving his feet into his shoes. He glanced at the time on his watch. Huh. Only 5:45? He must have been tired yesterday to sleep in.
The classes started at 6 o'clock anyway. He had that homeroom class to stick himself in. If he skipped any class again, he'd be shoved into detention. Which this year, he's heard it's gotten worse. So any noobies, such as Kiibo, should really behave. Unlike him, who wouldn't see a punishment until it slapped him five times.
He went in the bathroom in their room to at least look presentable to himself. As presentable as someone who was trying to convince themselves that they're okay. Basically lying.
Once he was out, Kiibo was waiting by the door. "Ah, we have different homerooms, so see you later?"
Kokichi raised a brow at him. "You are oddly friendly for someone who was cursing at the bus driver on the way to this place, y'know?" He pulled open the door, not bothering to slow his pace for Kiibo hurrying to catch up with him.
"Well-!" He slowed in steps beside him. "Well, I'm only crude to those who deserve it!"
"And I don't deserve it?" Kokichi asked rhetorically. Rolling his eyes at his naive outlook.
"Well... No! Course not! No student who attend this school deserves it. Unless they believe in their system. But I doubt that." He huffed. Nearly tripping down the stairs trying to keep up with Kokichi who had a stride that wasn't long, but quick. "Oh, and I forgot, you left your clementine behind."
Kokichi chuckled dryly. "I wasn't hungry. Now be a good little boy and run off to class! I'll do the same!"
Kiibo paused, as if debating to say something or not but decided against it. He just nodded and turned to head in a different direction. Kokichi didn't watch him walk off, he continued down the hall, preparing a smirk as he walked into the class late.
However, as he nearly lost his focus by the clack of his shoes on the marble floor, his eyes caught an individual whom he recognized. He slowed his pace as he realized they were hovering around a locked room. Bent over, peering into the lock hole. The hall was pretty empty, so her acts of clear suspicion wouldn't be caught. So he joined.
"Whatcha doing!" He said loudly, stepping up right behind her, to see the glorious jump of her whole body jolt around to look up, then down at him. He battered his sweet eyes at her as her look of horror melted into annoyance.
"The hell!" She spat, "Ko-Cock-i, mind your own damn business!"
Miu, the girl who was trapped across from him in the van. Her braids had been undone, to unleash her long and wavy strawberry hair. She seemed to of adjusted her uniform. She wore her shirt nearly half unbuttoned down her front, no doubt trying to show off her huge breasts. Her skirt was probably scooted up a bit further too, but he didn't bother to check.
"I'm making it my business!" He quipped, peering at the door behind her. "And this seems like your trying to get inside that. Why, I wonder?" He tapped his chin, eyeing her.
"There's stuff inside." Miu huffed. "I saw a dude go in here to put away a machine lookin' thing." She turned around and bent down again to peek inside. Kokichi raised a brow and shoved her aside, all to get a look himself. Ignore the annoyed 'hey!' From Miu, he did his best to get a load up.
It was dim, but he could see shiny looking metal inside. He hadn't the slightest clue what it was, until he caught a glimpse of a barrel. "Ooh! You want your hands on some guns!" He laughed, standing up and watching Miu look around frantically, again, totally not suspicion.
"Shut up! I don't want some stupid guns. But I want my hands on some of that machinery..." She almost looked turned on as she said it. Kokichi looked at her eyes that lit up with some fantasy.
"What? You screw vacuums or something?" Kokichi jested, slightly disappointed how she hadn't reacted. Miu shrugged, as if considering the idea.
"No you dirty minded bastard!" She cackled, "I'm an inventor! Once I get my grimy hands on those glistening beauties then..." she clapped her hands together in excitement. "I can kiss this place goodbye!" She rubbed the door as if trying to feel them from there.
Kokichi observed her confidence. Her sureness seemed reliable. She could just be cocky, in both ways. "I betcha couldn't find your way out of a tin can." He scoffed, crossing his arms in disbelief.
As he expected, she shot him a glare. "I invented the stupid monitors around your wrists dumbass! Once's those bear things came around, they took me and my genius brain with em!" She huffed, glaring at her own trackers and watch. Kokichi glanced at his in thought. If she really did, then her confidence was well earned.
"The original use was a vibrator." She said, smiling with hot blush spreading across her cheeks. Kokichi rolled his eyes. Course it was, knowing that made all these shockers suddenly weird.
"Kinky, but whatever." He said, hoping to get to the point. "So you know how to kill them? Y'know, buzz their circuits so they don't work?"
She laughed. "As if! I would've done that years ago if I knew. They took my blue prints and altered them so I don't know what the hell their weakness is. If I made it, then it wouldn't have a flaw. But these," she flicked one. "Probably have one flaw."
He nodded, "good to know!" He started walking off, towards his class.
"Oi, where you going!? Not to snitch you bi-"
"Class!" He called back. Tapping his watch. "In case you forgot, Miss genius! We're both hella late!"
-=o=-
Turns out Miu and him had the same homeroom. A quick rushed word exchanged explained that Miu skipped the first day, and had been in detention for the remainder of yesterday's class hours. They both nearly stumbled into the class room, after Miu screamed at him to wait, and he didn't listen, so as they crashed through the door, Miu was hanging on his arm as he kept spitting insults at her.
"Sit down!" The teacher had bellowed, sending a minor shock to both their circuits. Along with a strike that thankfully wouldn't end in a detention.
Kokichi hurried over to his seat, sitting down beside Shuichi who gave him the questioning look. He shrugged, looking back at the teacher who was glaring at him. To which he smiled, raising his middle finger and pressing it against his still-sore lips, in a mockery of being silent. His teacher flicked her look away, continuing on with the lecture.
Kokichi glanced back at Shuichi, who was giving him nervous tremors. The blue haired boy seemed to of lost that happiness he had last night, and gained a nerve-wracking thought. Beside him, was Kaede, looking at Shuichi with equal worry. Had something happened?
He pouted, sad Shuichi was concealing some pain to himself. Kokichi let his eyes wander across the students, and saw Miu sat in second row, diagonal to Kaede. Just hardly out of spit-ball range.
Painfully, the minutes slunk by slowly. And with each increasing minute, Kokichi felt more and more uncomfortable. After a while, he looked at Shuichi, who's eyes dropped form the teacher to his lap. His eyes were widened, and his fingers were anxiously gripping the edges of his seat. The building suspension in Kokichi's chest was nearing unbearable, so he reached over and tugged at the hem of Shuichi's sleeve.
"...What's wrong with you?" He asked, in the softest voice he could muster. Shuichi didn't even look at him, he just shook his head and brushed his hand away. In most blatant description, Shuichi looked sick. Pale and light-headed. After more concern glaring, Shuichi fiddled with his hands into his desk.
He pulled out a slip of paper, at first Kokichi thought it was a detention slip. If it's was, then his high anxiety was understandable. But as he passed it over, Kokichi understood it was something else.
"You, me, at recess."
Below the words, was a sloppily drawn picture of Shuichi as a stick-figure, dead with the X's as eyes.
Kokichi crumbled the note and stuck it in his pocket.
Shuichi was challenged to a fight outside at lunch.