Chapter Text
Kokichi 07/08
Kokichi slumped against the windowsill, listening to the sounds of his classmates cleaning behind him. Rays of sun poured out over the campus courtyard, spilling through the few trees. A few boisterous students kicked a ball back and forth on the grass around others studying or just soaking up the warm day with friends. He pressed his face into the window pane, imagining he could feel the blades of grass tickling his fingers as he did cartwheels and somersaults to a cheering audience of clowns. Even with his vivid imagination, the blast of the A/C unit above his head dashed his hopes, raising all the more goosebumps along his neck and arms. The room was cold and reeked of chemicals.
Why had he let himself be roped in by Akamatsu into cleaning today?
She had sworn that if they all chipped in as a group, the classroom would be spotless in moments and then everyone would be free to enjoy the pleasant afternoon. Normally, of course, such promises held no temptation for him. He had only been strong-armed into cleaning duty a mere five times over their more than two years at this school, preferring to dupe people like Saihara and Gokuhara into covering his slots.
That morning, however, she had flounced up to him with a particularly put-upon innocent expression as she made her carefully phrased request and, well. Her brand of honey-smiles may not work on him, but that poorly hidden threat of secrecy in her eyes most certainly did. Sometimes he was such a sucker.
And now, forty minutes into dusting, sneezing, scrubbing, washing, and sweeping every damnable surface of this room, there was still no sign of any ulterior motives or shenanigans. Admittedly, he had done very little of any of those tasks—save for, perhaps, the sneezing which he had participated in most obnoxiously of all—and had mostly just been gazing longingly outside and “accidentally” tripping anyone that got too close to him with the mop he was meant to be using. Gokuhara made the perfect bodyguard from the few that he pissed off too badly with that shtick, standing resolutely by his side as he cleaned the blinds no one else was tall enough to reach. Unfortunately, this came with the downside of listening to Gokuhara drone on and on about the breeding habits of some in-season insect. Kokichi might have forgotten its name milliseconds after it left Gokuhara’s lips, but he knew way more about its sex life now than anyone had the right to.
If Akamatsu didn’t get to her cool top secret plans soon, he was going to start bashing heads with this mop handle. He craned his neck, pretending to have caught sight of a bird taking flight, which put his head in the perfect position to subtly spy. Through his peripheral he watched Akamatsu whispering with Iruma as she straightened the books on the shelf they had just cleaned. Was there perhaps a prank afoot? At this point, even if it was some nasty thing cooked up by Iruma, Kokichi would gleefully accept it just to finally have a whiff of excitement.
Although he would be a bit miffed that Akamatsu had consulted her of all people instead of the prank-master himself!
“Um, Ouma-kun?” a soft voice intoned from his blind spot. Kokichi snapped to attention, already setting a permissible mask over his surprise at being snuck up on, one well-fitted to the speaker.
Sniffling pitifully, Kokichi drooped into Saihara’s chest without hesitation. Saihara flinched, fumbling as he dropped the spray bottle and rag he’d been trying to wordlessly communicate with in favor of catching Kokichi who was really in no danger of falling. Kokichi willfully did not step back at the splatter of window washing products across his ankles, choosing instead to wilt even more bonelessly in the others arms.
“I’m so bored, Saihara-chan!” wept Kokichi. “You’ll help smuggle me out the window, right? Akamatsu-chan won’t notice if you stand guard!”
Saihara glanced warily at the panes smudged with Kokichi’s face print, “I- um, I was just going to wash it. Wait, Ouma-kun! We’re on the fourth floor. You’d get hurt if you—”
Kokichi paused, halfway through clambering through the window he’d just shoved open. The only mark was from Kokichi, so he tipped his head back to leer. “Trying to get up close and personal with my—”
A hand sliced down, chopping the top of Kokichi’s head from behind. “Climbing out windows is not very gentlemanly. We are almost done, please do not make more work for Saihara-kun.”
Gokuhara lifted him by the back of his shirt collar as Kokichi complained loudly about foiled escape plans and set him firmly back on the ground. Kokichi tried not to stumble from the rough treatment, brushing himself off dramatically. Saihara wasn’t even watching the pair of them anymore, already swiping neat lines across the smudged glass with the wash rag. Just as Kokichi opened his mouth to wail some more, Akamatsu clapped her hands briskly behind them.
“Everyone, please take a water break!”
Kokichi raised an eyebrow, shutting his mouth as he watched Toujou pass out paper cups of water. The room really was almost done, so this was strange timing for a break. All that was left was for Ouma to blackmail someone into mopping for him then moving back the furniture.
“Are we playing spin-the-bottle now?” Iruma rocked excitedly back and forth on the balls of her feet, clearly unable to contain herself a moment longer. Akamatsu’s cheeks puffed in a small pout at the premature reveal before plastering over with a wide grin.
What. Was that seriously the shady, mysterious, ultra-top-secret plan he’d been waiting so long for? Gross! She’d had some real misses with group bonding activities since becoming their class president, but this one really took the cake. Kokichi frowned and began surreptitiously edging his way toward the row of bags hung on the back wall, prepared to set the mop in front of Kiibo’s belongings. Everyone else began clamoring with excitement, however. Most notably a great percentage of their female classmates, eager at the chance to smooch their class prez as if it weren’t an abysmal percentage they’d end up with someone far less desirable. She was everyone’s favorite and for some idiotic reason, the rest of his classmates seemed to lose all sense of reason when it came to her.
Play and take the risk he might have to kiss someone like her? No thank you. He rather make-out with the slutty killer hornet Gokuhara just spent forty some minutes waxing poetic about.
They should have made him class president. Kokichi would have come up with something way more original to incentivize everyone. They could have had a water gun fight, everyone discovering them hidden around the classroom as they cleaned and turning into an all out warzone!
What a waste.
“Come on, sidekick. You have to play, it’s your big chance, you know?”
“Ah,” Saihara flustered, trying to tug out of Momota’s grip on his sleeve. “No, thank you. I really should—”
“What’s all our training been for? You’re definitely man enough these days. This is the moment!” Momota carried on, hushed tones carrying way further than he probably thought they were. That oaf did not know the meaning of ‘whisper.’
Saihara’s shoulders went up to his ears as he floundered in Harukawa’s direction for help. “Best to just get it over with, Saihara,” Harukawa sighed flatly, looking strangely resigned. Was Momota’s influence really that strong?
Kokichi watched curiously as Momota laughed jovially, clapping both of them heartily on their shoulders. “That’s the spirit, Harumaki!” Then steered them both towards the growing cluster of students ringing the floor even though Saihara hadn’t actually changed his answer.
Neatly, Kokichi finished twisting the straps of Kiibo’s bag in with the mop handle, slapping a kissy face doodled sticky note on his handiwork as thanks. Then, in a baffling gesture that would stun anthropologists studying his behavior for decades to come, he flung himself down next to Amami.
“Who do you want to kiss, nii-chan?”
Amami raised a surprised eyebrow at him, shuffling to make room for Kokichi in the circle. Then he pressed a hand to his chin, considering Kokichi's query as he surveyed the room. “Hm, you know my preference but,” the boy shrugged nonchalantly, “I suppose I wouldn’t be too upset with most anyone. Probably best not to have your mind set on someone in particular, right, Ouma-kun?”
“So wise,” Kokichi breathed as the advice bounced right off his thick skull and onto the ground. A little ways to his left, Saihara visibly squished in close to Momota, as if anyone might mistake the bottle landing on him to be for Momota instead. Kokichi sat up a little straighter, noting that detail should he need to make some strong case one way or the other. Purely for the sanctity of the game, of course.
Akamatsu clapped again, demanding everyone’s attention. She was beaming, practically vibrating in place at the front of the room, between Iruma and Hoshi. She held up a glass bottle with a peachy-pink label, a winking cartoon on the face of it. Kokichi could easily imagine Akumatsu cleaning one of her own finished beverages out for this very occasion and wrinkled his nose at the idea of having to touch something her mouth had been on.
Once again, Iruma interrupted whatever speech Akamatsu had prepared, snatching the bottle of her hand and setting it in the center of the room. “We all know how to play, yada yada, me first.”
Akamatsu sighed with a roll of her eyes and sat back with a fond expression behind Iruma’s back while the other girl gave the glass a hard twist. She put a ton of spin on it, sending the bottle careening around the encircled space. Kokichi wondered who she wanted to land on more: Kiibo or Akamatsu. If she had a goal with all her desperately frenzied behavior, she way overshot. One might expect an inventor of her caliber to give it a more controlled, calculated turn to ensure a successful target. Kokichi has never understood physics well enough to pull it off himself, but with the way she carried on about the subject, it was almost a shame to watch her be so brainless in the moment.
The bottle finally rested practically on top of Shinguji’s foot. Comically pointed directly at the toe of his boot as if to say there would be no room to dismiss its judgement. Kokichi smothered a guffaw with his shirt sleeve at the positively green palor to Iruma’s face as she processed her misstep. He knew a few of his classmates found Shinguji fairly handsome, even Iruma herself. But there was that, oh-so creepy aura of his that made the thought of kissing him repugnant. Perhaps the only exception to that rule sat next to Kokichi, valiantly not the least bit jealous about not being the one granted such an opportunity. If only all of them could have Amami’s strength and casual confidence. Kokichi patted the other boy’s hand placatingly anyway, mostly to be a dick.
There, there, nii-chan. Sorry about your disturbing crush. Hope you get better soon.
Amami narrowed his eyes at him slightly, warning Kokichi to watch himself. Kokichi blew him an air kiss in return, knowing full well it was an empty threat.
“I’m not kissing you over that mask, like, you wear it every day. Who knows what kind of bacteria are growing on that thing. So, I guess I’ll just have to respin,” Iruma simpered pathetically, voice pitched high and whiny as she reached towards the bottle like she might be able to get out of this before anyone else could have an opinion.
“Not to worry,” Shinguji shrugged, and Iruma had a single moment to appear very relieved before he hooked one bandaged finger under the loop of his mask and pulled it away from his ear. “Although, I promise I do wash it by hand every night.” The mask dropped into his lap, revealing an admittedly nice looking mouth slightly glossy from chapstick. Strangely, next to him, Amami went stiff and then relaxed in the blink of an eye as if indecisive about his feelings in regards to the brazen unmasking. Kokichi shot him a sidelong glance, curiously sweeping his eyes up and down Amami’s form but found no answers.
Iruma swallowed, crawling flinchingly on her knees until she was before him. In a flash of motion, she pressed a short, chaste peck to his lips before scrambling back to her spot like he might grab her even though Shinguji hadn’t so much as moved during the entire exchange.
Kokichi sighed in disappointment. He’d expected better from Iruma: a super gross, show-worthy kiss that he could slutshame her over! At least he got a slight shudder from her, he supposed.
“Guess that makes it Angie’s turn,” giggled Angie lightly from Iruma’s side as she held her hand out for the bottle. A few of the other students traded confused glances, since Shinguji should’ve been next rather than continuing counterclockwise. Shinguji, however, just gave her an amused little nod as he passed her the glass, pocketing his mask rather than immediately putting it back on. Kokichi guessed that was more efficient, but it was weird seeing the whole of the guy’s face.
As the bottle slid along the tiled floor, it occurred to Kokichi what this change would mean. Everyone would definitely have to kiss at least one other person. After Angie, it would be Momota, then… Saihara, who had a vaguely nauseated expression.
What had Saihara in such a state? Had it clicked for him too? Has he never been kissed before?
Kokichi gallantly made an attempt to bury the idea of being Saihara’s very first kiss. The odds of kissing Saihara had just shot up a lot. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, going through the idea of kissing each and everyone else while he watched the whirling blur until it slowed gracefully before Shirogane.
Angie gave her a sunny smile, although Kokichi doubted very much she would have minded one way or the other had it been just about anyone, carefree as she was. She spread her arms invitingly, letting Shirogane be the one to awkwardly shuffle closer for the kiss. Shirogane tipped her head with uncertainty, and Angie cupped her jaw and brought her into a kiss far more obscene than was strictly necessary for the game. Kokichi saw a flash of tongue and maybe even drool sliding between their chins. He set his chin upon his knee like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen while inwardly retching.
“Uh,” Akamatsu coughed, clearing her throat after a couple seconds of loud French kissing, “Yo- Yonaga-san, I think that’s long enough?”
Angie pulled away with a filthy smack of their parting lips and gave a scarlet Shirogane a little pat on the head. She took the bottle back to her seat beside Iruma and passed it to Momota.
Momota wouldn’t meet her eye as he accepted it gingerly, and just placed the bottle dumbly in the center with a fumbling twist. It skittered, actually making it through nearly two impressive rotations before stopping a little jaggedly between Chabashira and, once again, Shinguji. However, with a derisive scrunch of her features, Chabashira reached out one foot and toed the bottle a little further in Shinguji’s direction.
Kokichi suspected it had not occurred to Momota in the slightest that he had just as good of a chance of kissing a boy as a girl. He might have even felt sorry for the idiot if not for the absolutely hysterical expression that so mirrored the one Momota got whenever Kokichi loudly told ghost stories in his vicinity.
With a smile perhaps meant to be reassuring but was much more ominous, Shinguji stood and reached Momota in two strides, tilting the shell-shocked boy’s face up with one hand. Momota looked like he might vomit all over Shinguji’s boots. Yet, Shinguji only pressed a light kiss to his forehead and returned to his seat.
“Boooooo!” Kokichi jeered, kicking out. “That so does not count!”
Amami and a few of the other students sent him reprimanding looks, including Akamatsu which he thought was ridiculous. It was her game after all! What was the point if not crazy uncomfortable forced kissing with someone you’d never want to kiss in your day to day? Kokichi looked to Iruma for support, certain she’d at least agree Momota should have to kiss Shinguji as well, but she was too busy whispering something in Akamatsu’s ear and twining a strand of hair around finger like… Well, like the schoolgirl she was, he supposed.
Useless fucking Iruma.
Momota scrubbed a sleeve over his forehead like that wasn’t rude as hell, and clapped a hand on Saihara’s shoulder. “That makes it your turn, sidekick!”
The bottle and Saihara seemed to regard one another like two sides of a war standing head to head. Seriously, Saihara’s expression was that daunted, staring into the empty glass as if it might shatter and slice him to ribbons. Oblivious to Saihara’s ongoing mental breakdown, Momota nudged him encouragingly alongside some super obvious eyebrow waggling and pointed glances towards Akamatsu. Saihara crumpled in on himself under the pressure, sweat beading on his brow. With trembling hands and sweat practically dripping off his brow, Saihara set down the bottle with a strange sense of finality and gave it a spin. Kokichi’s breath caught in his throat as though Saihara’s energy were infectious, feeling just as much anxiety with its slow motions. He found himself willing it to keep turning, to have more momentum, maybe to never stop twirling or maybe… just maybe, to have enough inertia to reach him. But, the laws of physics he’d never understood brought it instead to somewhere between Hoshi and Akamatsu.
Through the ringing in his ears, Kokichi heard Momota barking out, “Oh, that’s definitely Akamatsu, sidekick!” while drumming enthusiastically on his thighs like this was the biggest moment of his life. Like he was the one about to kiss the girl of his dreams rather than watching Saihara do it.
Saihara was clearly frozen stiff, staring at Akamatsu as she gave him a kind little grin, moving forward on her knees and tucking hair behind her ear—
No no no.
Kokichi’s heart leapt up into his throat in protest and that caught breath refused to slip past the organ. It was only a flick of motion, a panicked gaze sent around the room that barely caught Kokichi’s eyes, but the moment he saw those yellow irises he was thrown forward.
“Hey, get in line, Sai~hara~chan~” sang Kokichi lowly, shoving Saihara aside, and kissed Akamatsu squarely before she could react. Their mouths slotted together, her sticky lipgloss thick and greasy against his skin, and Kokichi swallowed trying not to choke on her sickly sweet perfume. He watched her eyes go wide as she finally processed what was happening and she fell backward with a hard thump and squeaky yelp.
“ Ouma-kun?” she squawked just as Iruma dove forward to no doubt attempt an assassination right here in front of all their classmates like the braindead whore she was.
“Nishishi!” Kokichi cackled, rolling out of her way only to find a hand tangled in the strings at the back of his shirt. He glanced behind him to assess an escape route, seeing an exasperated Amami hovering over him. Dropping his voice into a pitiful whisper, Kokichi entreated, “Let me go, nii-chan.”
Amami's face softened like it always did when Kokichi took this tone and he released Kokichi just like an enabling older brother. Kokichi fled nimbly out of the room before anyone could get their wits about them, hopping between his dazed, slack-jawed classmates, and bolting down the hallway.
Feet slapping noisily against the floor, he wove through the halls, ducking around a few corners and vaulting himself over the stair rails to the next level of the school, uncertain if he was hearing footsteps pounding behind him or just the racing of his own heart. Finally, he crouched under the last section of staircases, taking in gulping breaths and burying his face in his hands in hopes to quiet the sound.
After all that, the first person he had ever kissed had seriously been Akamatsu fucking Kaede.
Just what the hell was wrong with him?
He knew better, he damn well knew better than to let himself get lulled into their stupid orbit and yet and yet and yet. Saihara looks at him with those muddy yellow gray eyes and Kokichi’s rushing in all over again. Kokichi let himself topple back into the wall, let it take his weight and the brunt of him dropping his head heavily into it. It did nothing to clear his muddled thoughts.
Idiot.
Anyone with eyes knew Saihara had been mad for Akamatsu ever since their first year. It was a fact of life Kokichi had made peace with. He didn't make a habit of deluding himself over useless, worthless dreams. He kept his pathetic little crush shut tightly in its box most days. Unlike Shuichi, Kokichi knew how to not make his crush obvious, thank you very much. But it was one thing to know information, and another to have to watch them kiss in front of you.
He shouldn't have even stayed. What did it matter if Shuichi had kissed her when he wasn't around? The thing Kokichi couldn't get over was that weird ass smile Akamatsu had given Saihara. Had she wanted to kiss him too? Kokichi couldn't ever work that out. She toyed with people, he knew that much. Flirted with them until all of them were throwing themselves at her feet.
Maybe that was a little unfair of him. But with her lipstick all over him and the ghost of her strawberry vanilla perfume still making his throat itch, well, he wasn't feeling particularly fucking generous. Kokichi scrubbed the back of his hand against his mouth in disgust, knowing he'd never get this slimy feeling off of him. She somehow even tasted bright and sugary, like someone had dumped truckloads of artificial sweetener inside a vat of sunshine.
Hey, at least he knew what it would be like for Saihara, right? Would it take one too-syrupy kiss to finally purge Saihara of his feelings for her? Or would Saihara go on pretending like he didn't wince when eating slightly too sweet bread and kissing her like it wasn't rotting his teeth?
Loud footsteps crashing down the flight of stairs Kokichi had leapt over forced him to straighten in a rush, packing away all his feelings back into his box and violently shelving them. Fuck, he was going to have to do so much damage control. If Saihara looked at him with sorrowful, knowing pity, Kokichi would seriously commit seppuku. The clumsy student rounded the corner into the little alcove, shoes skidding on the plastic tiles as he tried to slow down without falling.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Saihara-chan?” Kokichi drawled, nice and slow, with his face cupped in one hand like Saihara finding him here was so utterly predictable. At least he'd had the decency of announcing himself.
“What— What did you do that for?” Saihara demanded wheezily, one hand still clutched tightly to the rail like he might keel over any second. Just how fast had he taken off after Kokichi?
Resiliently, Kokichi ignored the tiny sparking thrill that Saihara had run after him instead of checking on Akamatsu. Even if it was just to ream him for desecrating her dignity or some other ridiculously noble thing, Saihara was still looking at him.
“Hm? I told you, I wanted to make a daring escape. Thanks for the distraction. You were totally right about not using the window, I would've broken my neck!”
Saihara gave him this totally baffled expression like everything presented before him was utter nonsense, which admittedly, it sort of was.
“Do you—” Saihara faltered, the first two words coming out sharp and interrogating. Kokichi could almost envision him as the detective he would be one day, leaning over tables and intimidating witnesses into spilling their guts. But this version of Saihara lost his confidence too quickly, shrinking back as if spooked by his own sharp edges. After several long moments of hand-wringing, he finally spluttered out, “Do you have— have… ah, feelings for Akamatsu-san?”
How tiresome. Was that really the conclusion his brilliant detective had drawn in that head of his? Kokichi wanted to give it a good shake and scream ‘you're better than this!’ Or maybe ‘not everyone is in love with her!!’
Instead he smiled coyly up at Saihara like this accusation wasn't the most disappointing, dumbest conclusion to ever be drawn in his presence. “Yep! I just love the way she commands everyone around, don't you? She could run a tight ship in my organization. I already know just the division she'd oversee.”
“I— oh. I see.” Saihara drew out, voice strained. He had caught a small hole in his sleeve and twisted it tight around his finger like a snare. “Then… I'm sorry for getting in your way,” choked Saihara, beginning to actually bow at the waist. His features were mangled in distress as his fringe flopped in front of his big, sad eyes. Kokichi’s guts twisted as though Saihara’s own fidgeting fingers abandoned his shirt sleeve and had taken to knotting Kokichi's organs instead.
Kokichi made himself snort, pushed to his feet. He leaned to the side, craning down to peek at Saihara’s face. It was obscured by dark hanging hair. Reaching forward until one finger pressed against his forehead, Kokichi gave him a quick flick.
“Dummy.”
Saihara yelped, straightening, one hand raised to rub at the reddening spot. Kokichi’s lungs squeezed at the sight of his bangs pushed aside, really letting his eyes catch the light for a brief moment so that they sparkled gold. Cute.
“It was a lie,” Saihara huffed, slumping forward in defeat. It wasn't a question.
“ Duh. A supreme leader never catches feelings. My only love is crushing world leaders under my boot. I just thought that if anyone were going to kiss beloved Saihara-chan, they needed to be tested first,” Kokichi explained haughtily, folding his hands behind his head. “You’re lucky I did, y’know? She wears this super sugary lip gloss, would’ve given you a stomachache.”
He expected Saihara to get huffy now, prickling with jealousy and defiance about Kokichi’s opinions, but while one hand stayed tangled in his sleeve, the other raised to tuck thoughtfully under his chin. “Oh?”
“No need to thank me,” Kokichi flapped a dismissive hand Saihara’s way. “Just what a leader does for his subordinates!”
“Is it, though?” questioned Saihara, brows drawing in.
“Of course,” Kokichi declared, ignoring the erratic rhythm of his heart when Saihara didn’t protest about being a subordinate. Obviously he knew a lack of denial still wasn’t an agreement but… his pulse didn’t seem to be getting the message. “Hey, if you have any more love interests, phone me in!! I have a real talent for telling who’s got a kissing style well-suited to another person’s. Kissed my first person when I was ten and was like, ‘oh, your kiss is so full of passion and regret! You should totally be making out with Kaguya-hime’ and that’s how I earned my title as Ultimate Matchmaker! So, I'll definitely be able to let you know who's good enough at kissing for you.”
Saihara tried to keep his tone even, but made a face like Kokichi had just crammed a fistful of lemons into his gullet. “No… No, thank you, Ouma-kun.”
A cold bucket of water flushed through Kokichi’s insides, turning his skin clammy, but his outside expression was a different story. He balled his hands into fists of excitement around his face, eyes glittering at the sign of a good mystery. “I see, I see! So Saihara-chan does have feelings for someone.”
Fucking duh. But it was intrinsic knowledge, that oppressively awkward feeling from being in the same room with them and whispered exchanges between their friends. He’d never had the courage to directly ask and not just tease. But if he could just hear it from Saihara’s own mouth, maybe he could finally bury these useless feelings once and for all! This was the perfect time, it'd been long enough, hadn't it? He could definitely corner Saihara, get him to say it, and then wash his hands of this guy, without destroying himself any further.
Saihara blanched and turned hard on his heel, clearly running from the accusation. Super convincing act, Saihara. “No,” he muttered.
“Hey, hey, tell me! Tell me tell me tell me tell me!” Cried Ouma, bounding up the stairs after him, and almost needed to run with Saihara’s steadily increasing pace. At least he had that to blame on the pounding of his heart “Tell meeeeee!”
“I really— really don't, Ouma-kun,” Saihara stammered, tugging so hard on his bangs he was about to yank them right out of his scalp. That'd sort of be a shame.
Ouma swallowed back the sharp spike of anger at the lie, arranging his features into a pout instead as he hooked an arm in with Saihara’s in an embarrassingly necessary effort to slow him down. “Aw, you just don't want me to steal their first kiss, huh?”
Saihara got a weird face that Kokichi couldn't quite read, slowing down somewhat. “That's not—”
“Unless I already stole it?” Kokichi purred, unable to stop himself from pushing. Just fucking say it already.
Eyes widening, Saihara raised his hands and shook his head, “No! That's wrong! I don't— I mean, I guess I did , but— No, I thought- I-I thought everyone sort of… knew.”
It was the last thing he would have expected Saihara to say and Kokichi’s taunting persona faltered for long enough to be humiliating. “What?”
“Last year? I confessed to Akamatsu-san and- well, I guess you weren't exactly talking to anyone back then, but she turned me down. I haven't, um, actually liked anyone since then, but I don't still- I don't have those feelings for her anymore either.”
A trapdoor opened up underneath Kokichi’s feet and swallowed him. He was falling, tumbling ass over feet with wind in his ears and no sense of direction. That had to be a lie, right? Saihara didn't- and if he did, then even still he had to like her. It was a fact. An immutable, ugly truth that refused any alterations or lies Kokichi ever attempted to mask it with. Saihara would be hopelessly in love with her forever and Kokichi had learned to live with it. So how could it be remotely possible that a year, a whole year had gone by and somehow Kokichi had completely missed Saihara falling out of love with her?
Saihara was so unlike any other person. Two years with these people hadn’t been remotely necessary. He knew how each one of them ticked after maybe a whole week. Saihara, however, had this deceptive open-book quality that made Kokichi think he had understood everything there was to know, only to be left on his ass with a million questions time and time again. It was maddening and horrible and the reason he was probably never going to be able to escape these gut-wrenching feelings.
Rubbing the inside of his ring finger with his thumb, Kokichi twisted his features into something he’s practiced many times in the mirror before. A nightmare sort of leer, tipping his face until it’s shadowy, and widening his eyes until they ache. “You know I hate liars and jokesters, Saihara-chan.”
“It’s not a lie,” snapped Saihara.
“Akamatsu-chan clearly couldn’t wait to kiss you just now! No way she’d turn you down. Although, I suppose she does have her gaggle of suitors to think about. What’d she say exactly? Wasn’t ready to choose one of you yet? Enjoying the attention too much?”
“Don’t talk about her like that. It’s none of your business how that conversation went.”
“Fine,” Kokichi sniffed, dropping the painful stretch of his face, and brought his arms up behind his head like the conversation hadn’t been bordering on an outright fight. “But you were lying to me about something, hope you’re prepared for my swift revenge. I’m sure I can think up something super embarrassing in regards to this new crush you have.”
“Why don’t I grill you about your love life for a change and see how you feel,” Saihara grumbled.
Kokichi snorted, beginning to walk backward. “Aw, wanna know that for any particular reason, beloved?” he taunted, blowing Saihara a little kiss, then waggled a finger at him, “But you haven’t been good enough to earn that information, so no can do! You’ll have to die clueless!”
“Something scandalous about a world leader you can’t disclose?” Saihara threw back, a smirk sliding across his features. A thrill shot through Kokichi at the callback to his bit, worsened by the cheeky gleam in Saihara’s eyes. He loved Saihara like this.
“Sorry, answering that would go against my NDA.” shrugged Kokichi.
Saihara was in full detective mode now, following after Kokichi and his stupid lies like getting to the bottom of this wild goose chase was the only thing in the world that mattered. “A woman?”
Once again, Saihara bowled him over. Always so surprising, since the answer should definitely be something Saihara already knew. Kokichi’s blatant queerness was one of the only traits anyone with half a braincell ever learned about him. Kokichi was positive, in fact, that if Saihara asked Momota, even that oblivious moron would still be able to confidently confirm, ‘yeah, Ouma’s super gay.”
“No,” Kokichi answered even though he had already promised not to give any clues because- seriously? Him?! “Yuck! Can you imagine?”
Saihara hummed slightly, and Kokichi could practically see the information being filed away to fill in a detail on the small amorphous chaos that makes up the enigma of Ouma Kokichi. It almost made Kokichi want to lunge for that bit of truth, tear it to pieces and swallow, punish him for asking so many ridiculous questions today.
But then, hands were throwing Kokichi up in the air in an impressive surprise judo flip. He’d congratulate his assailant on their stealth if the breath hadn’t been knocked from his lungs on impact. His ears rang and, blearily, he made out a dark shape above him that refused to come into focus as they rattled him back and forth.
“Ah! Chabashira-san,” Saihara fretted over the high pitched cacophony of screechy bells in Kokichi’s head, thankfully identifying the attacker. Kokichi couldn’t make out the rest but he hoped it was a bid for his poor, young life.
Had she taken offense to the idea that someone could feasibly not worship the ground a girl walked upon? The girl needed to get a grip. This was excessive, even for her.
“Don’t ever touch her again, you creep!” Chabashira raved, her voice fading strangely, even though she were still hollering. Kokichi tried to catch his breath, blinking unseeingly up at the ceiling. Chabashira was usually more bark than bite, rarely resorting to actual violence. Hysterically, he found himself grateful it had been Akamatsu’s lips he’d protected Saiahra from instead of Yumeno. He might be dead otherwise.
There was more talking around him, people coming to gawk at his wake? Kokichi couldn’t quite hear them, too busy contemplating whether or not he was going to vomit and hoping Saihara wouldn’t see if he did.
Someone, not Saihara said, “—see to him, don’t worry— go on.”
The clamor quieted and Kokichi came back to himself, sitting up with a groan. The hallway appeared empty of any visible onlookers, to his surprise, including Saihara. Kokichi pushed past the sting, forcing himself to stand. Like he wanted to be fussed over anyway! It would be revolting for Saihara to escort him to the nurse’s wing, check him for a concussion, bandage his bleeding head—
Just sickening.
Almost immediately, the ground swayed under his feet and Kokichi had to lean heavily into something warm and soft to get his bearings. Generously, he suspected Chabashira meant more to scare him than injure him but the back of his head throbbed, and fire shot up his shoulder where it planted against that solid mass. Squinting, he realized it was Amami.
“Come on,” Amami said in a thankfully quiet tone that didn't aggravate Kokichi’s pounding skull. “Let's make sure you don't have a second concussion.”
Kokichi blanched, that'd probably be bad wouldn't it? Two concussions in as many years? Note to self: stop receiving brain trauma pronto. Even still… he'd rather literally anyone else diagnose him than Tsumiki, their residential school nurse. Why was she of all people one of the graduates that actually stayed on to work at their school?
“Oh, nii-chan's so worried about me!” Kokichi giggled, forcefully not wincing at his voice echoing in the hall as he let Amami pull him at least some of the way there. Probably best to get far away from their other classmates lest Harukawa decided she wanted a turn too. He didn't need to actually go to the nurse. “Are you going to sit in on my appointment and tell the good nurse all about my lengthy medical history and do the boring paperwork for me while I have a lollipop for being the world's best patient?”
Amami shrugged, “If that's what will make sure you actually see her about your head—”
“Who said anything about my head?” Kokichi asked with a fake raspy voice, clutching dramatically at his throat. “ Chabashira-chan choked me!! Choked me half to death and then kicked me until I coughed up blood!”
“Well, then we'll have her check your throat and chest, too. And your shoulder.”
Kokichi shuddered at the idea of her clammy hands on him. He needed to think of a way out of this fast. “In my organization, we're only allowed to see one doctor, he's a mad scientist, and the best around, since he can raise the dead. So I don't need help from any sort of nurse; if I croak, I already have Dr. F—”
“Good thing I have an in with the organization's leader. I'll put in a good word so they won't kick you out.”
“ I heard the leader hates you because you were a HUGE snitch that gave the cops a bunch of our dirty secrets,” Kokichi huffed righteously, turning his nose up in the air.
“Nah,” Amami set a careful hand in Kokichi’s hair and ruffled it without jostling him too badly. “He's my kid brother so he forgave me.”
*****
Kokichi ended up getting dragged to the nurse. And he didn't even have a concussion! Just a bruised shoulder that she gave him painkillers for. He wasn't entirely sure if that was meant to help his killer headache as well, but Kokichi didn't trust anything that creep gave him so he threw them right in the trash once he was back in his room.
He crawled straight into bed with the lights off, trying to shield his face from the glare of the setting Sun through his window. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he dug it out, seeing an onslaught of unread messages from all his minions.
They had lots to prepare for in the next few days so this wasn't too unusual. Kokichi swiped open his phone, trying to bring up the general chat and sent everyone a summary of his day.
Mighty and Powerful God (6:45 pm)
if any of u worker bees were wondering what its like to kiss a class president, make sure u register for dental benefits w/ me cuz i have to get dentures now :(
A flurry of replies made Kokichi’s head spin, but since he was about to fall asleep, he decided to leave that for tomorrow and checked on their progress reports while he could still keep his eyes open.
Barely two minutes into reading about the efforts that were taken to procure large enough glass cases for everything, he felt something fall hard onto his face. But Kokichi wasn't ready to open his eyes yet. He'd just… lay here for a moment and then deal with it. Right before he fell asleep, he wondered where Saihara had gone earlier, but he was under before he could even theorize.