#kuzupeko fanfiction

[foryoupeko]

Imagine Peko waking up from the Neo World Program and reconnecting with Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko catches Peko up with everything happening whilst the other survivors butts in every so often.

--

Sonia: Here's your coffee Fuyuhiko!

Peko: Oh, he needs cream and-

Sonia: I already added it! Just how he likes it!

Peko: (Frowns) That doesn't look like enough cream.

Fuyuhiko: I don't have as much as a sweet tooth anymore.

Sonia: Oh so you don't want the fried cookies I made for your coffee?

Fuyuhiko: You son of a bitch.

Sonia: Damn right!

--

Kazuichi: Fuyuhiko! I found some anime on the island! Let's watch it later!

Peko: Ah, he doesn't-

Fuyuhiko: It's fine. We'll watch it this weekend. Better not be romance.

Kazuichi: Yeah yeah, like you didn't get teary eye from the last one we saw.

Fuyuhiko: SOMETHING WAS IN MY EYE.

Kazuichi: ONLY DURING THE CLIMAX?

--

Akane: Fuyuhiko we're gonna run around the island tomorrow?

Peko: You run?

Akane: HE RUNS WELL!

Fuyuhiko: There's not much you can do on a debilitated island.

Akane: You're still not as fast as me.

Fuyuhiko: I'm not aiming to be a freak of nature.

--

Fuyuhiko: Peko are you okay? You're awfully quiet.

Peko: I knew you would be okay without me, I had no doubt. I just didn't expect you to mature so much. I haven't lived a single day without you but time never stopped for you. So it's jarring to say the least. I feel like I don't know you anymore.

Fuyuhiko: That gives us an interesting opportunity. Because we've been together ever since we were babies, we never had a proper introduction. So let's start over right now. (Extends his hand) My last name is Kuzuryu! My first name is pronounced, "Fu-yu-hi-ko". From this point forward, I hope we can get along so we can get to know each other better.

Peko: (stunned)

Fuyuhiko: Sorry, that was stupid.

Peko: (smiles) No. I loved getting to know you; I would love to do it all over again.

Fuyuhiko: But as equals!

Peko: (laughs) Yes. (grabs Fuyuhiko's hand) My name is Peko Pekoyama. It is nice to meet you.

[quillscales]

"Ugh! Would you get off me!" Kuzuryu yelled as he tried to pry the arms wrapped around his neck off.

Hajime raised a brow. He was being purposely gentle; Kuzuryu had the strength to get Souda off him if he was being serious about it.

"Goddamit!" Kuzuryu exclaimed as Souda began to nuzzle at his cheek. "Stop acting like a damn Omega in heat and get off me!"

Hajime sighed at his friends' antics and looked up from his book when he heard footsteps. "Oh? Hello, Pekoyama." He greeted, a touch of confusion in his tone. She was Kuzuryu's girlfriend, but she didn't often hang out with the three of them. She was welcome to, but apparently, she felt that Kuzuryu needed 'guy time'.

"Ah- Peko-" Kuzuryu said, his cheeks flushed. "This isn't what it looks like…" Souda wrapped one of his arms around Kuzuryu's middle as he said this. "Get off!" He yelled once more, his blush only darkening.

Peko's expression didn't change. "It looks like Souda is attempting to fluster you with affection." She said simply, ever observant. "Is that not the case?"

"Nah, it is," Souda said with a grin.

[weirddancer14]

Chapter 3 of post-game fic. Fuyuhiko faces the consequences of his short temper.

[acacia-may]

Tackle the Monsters

Description: Masaru has always wanted to "The Hero," and though he has always tried his best to be a hero for his friends, Kotoko has long been of the opinion that the only hero she can really count on is herself. Though he might never be able to offer her a rescue, no matter how much he might want to, maybe sometimes all it takes to be a hero is being there when someone needs you…

Fandom: Danganronpa (Specifically Ultra Despair Girls. Danganronpa 2 characters also appear but are not centric)

Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort and Fluff, Future Fic (nearly) 20 Years Post-Canon. Also includes: Fairy Lights, Forts, Flashback Scenes, and Fuyupeko (Kuzupeko) domestic bliss and babies because I love them.

Relationships: Masaru Daimon & Kotoko Utsugi Friendship almost 20 years in the future (A/N: I wrote this as a platonic work about their friendship, but as they're both 30 years old here, I guess you could take it in a more romantic-ish(?) way if you just really wanted to see it (maybe?). That was not my intention in writing, however, and in my mind, this is Friendship Hurt/Comfort). Warriors of Hope Friendship (Masaru Daimon & Kotoko Utsugi & Nagisa Shingetsu & Jataro Kemuri) mentioned and depicted in a flashback. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu & Masaru Daimon friendship. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu/Peko Pekoyama established relationship (with a child).

Characters: Masaru Daimon (POV Character) and Kotoko Utsugi. Nagisa Shingetsu and Jataro Kemuri are mentioned and physically appear in a flashback in this story. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu and Peko Pekoyama briefly appear as well.

Rating: T for Thematic Elements and Some Language (Please see "Warnings" below for more details).

Warnings: Vaguely implied/mentioned childhood trauma and abuse. (A/N: This is hurt/comfort, but the past childhood trauma and abuse is only implied as vaguely and subtly as possible while still being treated with the sensitivity and gravity it warrants). Unhealthy coping is mentioned. Healthy coping is also mentioned and depicted. Legal/of age drinking is also implied/mentioned. Insecurities. Nightmares are mentioned but not depicted. Aftermath of nightmares is depicted. Some language. (A/N: I like to think they characters are in a better place psychologically here (nearly 20 years after Ultra Despair Girls and having begun to get the therapy they so desperately need), but they still have a ways to go and don't always cope in the best/healthiest way. Healing is a journey).

Word Count: 5588

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

Note: Many thanks to @repo-net for reading through part of this story and providing very helpful notes and feedback! I hope you'll enjoy the finished story as well.

Story below the cut. Thank you for reading!

Masaru ruffled his hand through his hair as he took off his motorcycle helmet—not that it made much of a difference. It was probably still a mess as usual. Despite Nagisa’s scolding that at thirty years old he ought to know how to make himself look semi-presentable, Masaru didn’t care too much about the way he looked. In fact, he felt that his often tousled, messy “helmet hair” was part of his charm. 

With a conceding shrug of his shoulders, he pulled his shopping bag and takeout containers from the built-in storage of his bike and headed up the driveway. He had barely taken a few steps when a high-pitched voice called out, “Uncle Masaru!” 

Masaru blinked as four-year-old Natsumi Kuzuryu darted out of the garage where her parents were busy packing up their car for their trip. “Hey there, Tater Tot,” he said with a smile as she hugged him. 

“Natsumi,” sighed her father, Fuyuhiko, following in close pursuit. “I’m sure he’s not here to see you.” He turned to Masaru with apologetic eyes, but Masaru just laughed and waved his hand. 

“No problem, boss.” 

Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes. He didn’t much care for being called that—often said it made him sound like a mob boss when he was running a perfectly reputable business of independent security contractors, mostly for Togami and the Future Foundation—which seemed to be one and the same these days—and their related projects and investments, of course. Masaru often wondered what Fuyuhiko would be doing if the Kuzuryu Crime Syndicate hadn’t been destroyed in the chaos following the Tragedy, but even he knew better than to bring it up and, instead, insisted that because the former Ultimate Yakuza was, in fact, his boss now, such a nickname was warranted.

“Can I give you a hand with those suitcases?” asked Masaru, but Fuyuhiko shook his head. 

“We’ve just about got it, I think.” 

“Let him help load the rest,” said Mrs. Boss, Peko, peeking out from behind the side of the trunk. “We’re already running behind as it is.” 

Fuyuhiko sighed but conceded, “Alright. If you really want to help, but I know that you’re probably just here to see Kotoko, right?” 

Masaru shrugged. “Eh. It can wait a minute.” He sat his bags down on a work bench in the garage as he reached for some of the suitcases to load into the trunk. 

“Auntie Kotoko can’t come with us because she has to work,” said Natsumi with a frown. 

Masaru turned to Fuyuhiko whose own frown looked an awfully lot like his daughter’s. “We did invite her,” he explained shuffling his feet. “Just in case she didn’t want to stay here alone, you know?” 

Stacking two suitcases in the back of the car, Masaru nodded. He had been thinking the same thing after all. Kotoko lived in an apartment above the Kuzuryu family’s house—which may or may not have been the result of Masaru pulling a couple of strings, though he’d never tell her that. Though Kotoko never really talked about it, he knew she felt a lot safer knowing that Peko and Fuyuhiko were on the floors below her along with their state-of-the-art security system, and this would be the longest both of them would be gone with Natsumi. 

“You excited for your trip, Natsumi?” asked Masaru changing the subject. 

Her little braids bobbed up and down excitedly as she nodded. “Yeah! I’m gonna play with the Dark Devas of Destruction.” 

“Hamsters,” Peko explained dryly as she loaded the last of the bags into the car and closed the trunk. 

Masaru stifled a laugh. “Sounds fun.” 

“It is really fun! They have a wheel where they run around like this”—giggling, she made a circular motion with her finger—“And Auntie Sonia made them sweaters.” 

“Alright,” said Fuyuhiko with a light chuckle. Natsumi giggled even more when her father lifted her up onto his back. “Let’s let your Uncle Masaru get going, okay?” 

Natsumi pouted, but eventually, she sighed. “Okay, Papa.” Her face brightened, and she smiled as she turned to wave at him. “Bye, Uncle Masaru.” 

“So long, Tater Tot. Have a great trip!” 

“We’ll try,” sighed Fuyuhiko wearily. Masaru knew he cared about his former classmates, but he also knew that the fact he cared about them didn’t mean he didn’t find their unique brand of chaos a little tiring at times, especially now that he was a father and had enough domestic chaos keeping him on his toes. It was probably a little like how Fuyuhiko felt about him, now that he thought about it—an almost exasperated affection one would have towards a somewhat wayward little brother. Masaru’s mouth twitched in the corners at the thought. 

After the Kuzuryus started to get into the car and they all waved their final goodbyes, Masaru picked up his bags and made his way around the garage to the door on the side of the house. He pressed the buzzer more times than was probably necessary.

“Natsumi?” asked Kotoko’s voice from the intercom. 

“Nope. Guess again,” Masaru teased. 

“Masaru? What are you doing here?” 

Masaru shrugged before he realized she couldn’t actually see him at the moment. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” He paused, and when she didn’t respond added, “I brought food.” 

Kotoko sighed. “Alright. Come on up.” 

The door buzzed as it unlocked, and Masaru bounded up the long, narrow flight of stairs behind it. These stairs were nothing for the former Li’l Ultimate P.E., of course, but Masaru often wondered if Kotoko ever grew tired of lugging things up and down them into her apartment at the top since there wasn’t an elevator like there was in Masaru’s building. As much as he usually took the stairs back home to run off excess energy, it was still nice to have the option of taking the elevator, particularly if he was carrying something heavy like furniture.  

When he reached the top of the stairs, Masaru turned right and knocked on Kotoko’s door under the shiny, silver 2 which was affixed to it despite this being the only apartment. Masaru knew the apartment number had been a gift from Jataro back when he had taken up metal-working as a new hobby a couple of years ago. Around the same time, Jataro had made similar metal carvings of their names to mark Masaru’s, Nagisa’s, and his own rooms, respectively, in the apartment in the city center where they lived as roommates, and when he asked the building manager if he could make a number for their door, their landlord liked it so much he commissioned Jataro to make metal numbers for every other apartment in their building. 

If Masaru had to guess, this was a little too much for Jataro who decided as soon as the project was finished that he needed a long break from metal-working. He hadn’t picked it back up since, though he always had several creative, crafty hobbies to keep him busy when he wasn’t working on his prosthetic designs. The field of prosthetics was Jataro’s main career, and he was almost as passionate about it as Nagisa was passionate about his air filtration systems or whatever it was that he did with the Future Foundation. Between Nagisa’s use of complex, technical language and extremely field-specific jargon, Masaru could never really tell what it was that he did exactly, but he figured asking him to explain it to him like he was in elementary school would be a little too embarrassing. 

“Hi. Come on in,” said Kotoko ushering him through the doorway. She was dressed in sweats or possibly pajamas—Masaru wasn’t always the best at telling the difference—and her hair, dyed dark and cropped short, was wet and scraggly. Masaru fidgeted. He had probably interrupted her plans to turn in early and catch up on the sleep she had missed out of during the busy workweek. “Please excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company,” she continued before she tilted her head pointedly at him. “Would it have killed you to call first?” 

Masaru shrugged with a somewhat lopsided grin. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Mhmm…” she hummed with a frown as she walked over towards the sofa. 

Kotoko’s apartment was modestly sized, especially for only one person living there, and Masaru didn’t think it was nearly as messy as she was worried about. After all, he could only imagine what a pigsty his apartment would be if it was just him and Jataro living there without Nagisa and his “chore chart” to keep it tidy. That reminded him, it was his turn to clean the kitchen floor—he’d have to remember to do that when he got home. 

As Masaru sighed and shook his head at the thought, he caught sight of a large stack of files on a nearby desk out of the corner of his eye. His brow furrowed. 

“Did you bring your work home with you?” 

Kotoko frowned. “I always bring my work home with me.” 

Something stormy crossed Kotoko’s eyes, and Masaru wondered if she meant that in a less literal sense. She worked with the newly instated child protective services—with kids who were orphaned or displaced in their slowly rebuilding post-apocalyptic world—and maybe it was too many years of court-ordered therapy talking but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in Kotoko’s mind, when she saved those kids, she was really saving herself. After all there had been a time when she needed a hero but hadn’t had one, and while Masaru had tried to be one for her, he had been too messed up by all the things that had happened to him to be much of a hero for anybody, even himself. Besides, by that point, Kotoko had long learned that the only hero she could really rely on was herself and hadn’t wanted much “rescuing” from him, Nagisa, or Jataro.

That certainly didn’t stop them from trying to take care of her the best they could from a distance though. It was the main reason he was here after all, but he knew Kotoko well enough to know that if he told her that, she’d close the door in his face and send him home with far too much takeout for one person to eat. Masaru sighed. He also knew that it wouldn’t be long now until she started asking him why he was here. He’d have to hurry up and think up a good excuse before she… 

“Masaru,” she interrupted his thoughts, quirking an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing here?” 

There it was. He should win some sort of a prize for predicting it, Masaru thought. He twisted his mouth to one side, but his expression quickly softened as he tilted his head at her and teasingly clicked his tongue. “What? I can’t come visit you, now?” 

Kotoko frowned. “Don’t you have a date or something?” 

“Eh. There’ll be others.” Masaru’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. “Besides, I’d rather be—“ 

“I’m sure there will.” She cut him off before he could finish his thought, and—Masaru frowned—it was a good one too. Something nice and complimentary about how he’d much rather spend the evening with a friend than out on the town. He sighed. Kotoko would never get to hear it now, but it didn’t seem to bother her much as she crossed her arms and glowered pointedly at him.

With a slight shake of his head, Masaru ran his hand through his unruly hair. He probably should have expected this reaction—after all, it was no secret that Kotoko didn’t approve of his current preoccupation with relationships, probably more so than even Nagisa who was in the habit of referring to it as his most recent “drug of choice,” like his dates were no different than Kotoko’s liquor bottles. 

They weren’t, but that didn’t mean Masaru didn’t sometimes worry that hearing about them sent the same kind of chill down Kotoko’s spine that he had whenever he caught sight of her extensive alcohol collection. Still, he knew Kotoko wasn’t an alcoholic just like, he hoped, she knew he wasn’t a lech. For the most part, they decided it was best to just stay out of each other’s business and not to talk about it. Of course, that was easier said than done when Kotoko was glaring at him like this… 

“Look,” he sighed. “I know you’re upset that I keep getting in relationships…” 

“Don’t be stupid,” huffed Kotoko. “I don’t have a problem with you getting into relationships. Just because I don’t want one, doesn’t mean that I don’t want anyone to have one.” 

Masaru’s brow furrowed. “Then what’s the problem?” 

“You go through relationships faster than paper towels and keep getting out of them whenever you get bored.” 

Wow. She didn’t even miss a beat. He knew she could be blunt, and she wouldn’t quite be Kotoko without some sort of metaphor that didn’t make total sense but… “Bored?” 

“Masaru…” Kotoko crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t had a relationship that lasts more than a month, and most of them only last a couple of days, if that.” 

“That’s not true,” he interjected before she could say anything else. “I’ve had a few that lasted two months.” 

Kotoko’s brow furrowed, and she blinked at him. “Right, because that’s so much longer…” 

Masaru supposed she had a point. He did have a track record of short relationships, the shortest being only 45 minutes until he finally faked food poisoning after getting asked one too many questions about his childhood. 

He sighed. Kotoko was wrong. He didn’t get out of relationships because he got bored, he got out of them because he got scared. It was a lot easier to leave early instead of waiting around for someone to realize what a screw up you were and run out on you. 

He shook his head and pushed the thought away. “Fine, never mind. Just forget it. We all have our vices, don’t we?” 

“At least mine don’t hurt anybody else.”

Masaru frowned as he caught sight of the cluster of half-empty liquor bottles on her counter. He shook his head, remembering how Nagisa had come home one night with a busted lip and black eye after getting in a fight with some thug who had been harassing Kotoko in a bar. How every so often chestnut trees would start popping up in Jataro’s artwork, and they’d know it meant he was worried about her. How when he wasn’t working through his own shit at the gym, he was thinking about her and pushing himself well past his limits until he was achy and exhausted as if he could somehow lift out, bike out, punch out, or run out his worry for her. He’d come home in the middle of the night, finding Nagisa still wide awake from worrying about everybody but himself, and though they wouldn’t ever talk about it, Masaru would know he understood—after all, he had been up scrubbing the counters until his fingers were raw for the very same reason. 

Still, he sighed and conceded, “Look. I didn’t come here to argue with you.” 

Her eyes narrowed curiously. “Why did you come?”  

“I thought it might be fun to have dinner together. Jataro went to bed early because he has a cold, and Nagisa’s working late so—” 

“You were lonely,” she interrupted with an almost-teasing roll of her eyes. She chuckled. “Alright, fine. What kind of food did you get?” 

Masaru smiled brightly as he held out the bag of takeout boxes to her. “Soba noodles.” 

After she took the bag from him, Kotoko laid the containers out on the counter, but her brow furrowed. “What’s in that bag?”

Masaru fidgeted—twisting the handles of the extra bag in his hand. “Oh. Uh…fairy lights.”

“Fairy lights? Why?”

“I thought maybe you might want to make a blanket fort.” Masaru shrugged his shoulders, and Kotoko laughed.

“A blanket fort? We’re thirty years old—don’t you think we’re a little old for that?”  

“You sound like Nagisa,” quipped Masaru with a playful roll of his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with being in-tune with your inner child.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I built a blanket fort.”

Masaru’s face softened. Kotoko might not remember, but he did. It was probably why he even thought about the fairy lights in the first place. Though it was nearly two decades ago he could still remember it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

*-*-*

Masaru bolted up in bed—his heart pounding. Drenched in sweat, he struggled to catch his breath as if he had just run a marathon. The sounds of screaming rang out again, and he sprang out of bed onto shaking legs. So he hadn’t imagined it after all. He couldn’t always tell the difference between reality and his vivid nightmares. In this case, however, he was sure that the screaming noises were coming from down the hallway, rather than from the monsters in his own mind. Someone was in trouble.

Without a second thought, he sprinted into the hall and ran smack into Jataro who fumbled around with a wide-rimmed bowl in his hands.

“Woah. Sorry,” he said as he helped Jataro steady himself. “What’s with the bowl?”

“It’s water. I thought it might help.”

Masaru’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure how a bowl of water could help in this situation, but it probably made Jataro feel better to think he was helping in some way so Masaru decided not to question it. Instead he asked, “So you heard it too?”

Jataro nodded solemnly. “It’s coming from down there. Nagisa or Kotoko probably…”

Masaru could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he took off down the hallway. Whatever was going on down there, they could take it right? At least he could. After all, he was the hero…

Kotoko’s door was ajar, and the closer they got to it the easier it was to hear Nagisa’s voice. Even though Masaru couldn’t quite make out the exact words he was saying, the tone of his voice was calm and even, most unlike the cloud of panic that wafted into the room as Jataro and Masaru rushed through the doorway.

“What’s going—?”

“Shh…” shushed Nagisa quietly turning towards the doorway while pressing a finger to his lips. Kotoko’s room was dark aside from the few strands of fairy lights which were strung across her shelves and dresser, but in the dim light, Masaru could see that Kotoko was sitting up cross-legged on the bed. Her eyes were wide and teary but almost mesmerized by the fairy lights as her lips barely moved, no audible sounds to be heard. Nagisa sat in a chair beside the bed, and when Kotoko shivered and let out a painful whimpering noise, he returned to what, Masaru presumed, he had been saying before, “Kotoko, you’re in your room in Towa City. It’s the third of November at 1:30 in the morning. It’s dark outside because it’s the middle of the night, but it’s supposed to be sunny and a little windy today after the sun rises.”

“Nagisa, I brought this,” whispered Jataro pushing the bowl of water into Nagisa’s hands. Masaru blinked, unsure of when exactly Jataro had managed to slip past him into the room. “Do you think it could help?”

The corners of Nagisa’s mouth twitched. “Thanks, Jataro,” he said quietly as he sat the bowl next to Kotoko. “Kotoko, Jataro is here too. He brought some water for you. Can you put your hand in the water?”

There was a long, heavy pause. Kotoko, it seemed, couldn’t pry her eyes away from the fairy lights, but she did eventually place her hand in the bowl. Masaru finally willed his legs to move and stumbled through the doorway over to Kotoko’s bedside. Her eyes were glossed over—distant and tearful as they stared intently at the strings of lights, her lips still slowly moving as if she was mouthing words. No, not words. Numbers. She was counting the lights.

Something clicked in Masaru’s brain, and he could’ve almost kicked himself for taking so long to figure it all out. He ran out into the hall as fast as he could and back into his room until he finally stopped in front of a shelf full of used and oftentimes busted bottles. Perfumes, colognes, body mists, and room sprays—anything with a pleasant scent strong enough to cut through the reek of booze and cigarette smoke that haunted his dreams and filled his room when his nightmares bled into his reality.

He had no idea which ones Kotoko might like or what might help her so he tried to grab all of them which only resulted in him fumbling around with arms filled with dropping bottles. He swerved so they wouldn’t all clatter to the floor and break and instead let them fall onto the bed. He frowned and decided to grab only his two favourites, since that’s what he could carry in his hands, figuring he could always come back and get more if neither of these worked.

When he returned to Kotoko’s room, she had stopped shaking though she was still counting the lights. Nagisa was talking about everything they had seen on a recent walk through the park, and Jataro was keeping quiet vigil and holding the bowl of water steady so it wouldn’t spill as Kotoko splashed her hand around in it.

Masaru carefully crept into the room and took his place beside Jataro, but before he could hand off the bottles to Nagisa, Kotoko blinked her eyes and said quietly, “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

Nagisa sighed sympathetically. “You don’t have to apologize. We’re all just glad you’re okay.”

Kotoko looked around the room. Her eyes stopping on each of them. “I didn’t want you all to worry about me.”

“We’re your friends,” chimed Jataro. “It’s what friends do, right?”

Kotoko’s face fell guiltily, and she grew suddenly interested in her hands. “Thanks. But you can all go back to bed now…” Her voice trailed. “I really didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Like hell we will.” Masaru felt all the eyes in the room suddenly turn and stare at him at this outburst. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I mean, uh…I don’t know about you guys, but I was up anyway.”

“Uh yeah…” lied Jataro. “Me too.”

Even honest-to-a-fault Nagisa nodded. “I was reading.”

“See we were all up. You have nothing to feel bad about or anything,” said Masaru with a shrug.

From the look Kotoko was giving him now, he could tell that she knew they probably weren’t telling her the whole truth, but she sighed, clearly lacking the energy or motivation to argue about it and said, “Alright. Well…what then? Are you just suggesting we all stay up all night…again? What would we even do?”

Masaru tilted his head, almost waiting for Nagisa to lecture them about how they needed their sleep or something like that, but he didn’t say anything and instead stared at the fairy lights. That gave Masaru an idea.

“What if we built a blanket fort?”

“What?” asked a cacophony of his friends’ voices.

“Yeah, we could all gather up the blankets and pillows from our rooms and build a big fort out of them. We could even have snacks and play games and stuff—it’ll be bright enough because we can use the fairy lights as the light in the fort.” He beamed. “What do you say?”

“That sounds like a fire hazard,” said Nagisa with a frown.

“Oh come on,” whined Masaru. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. It’ll be fun.”

Nagisa twisted his mouth to one side, but it eventually twitched in the corners. He sighed, “Alright.”

“And Jataro can decorate it,” added Masaru, and Jataro practically lit up at the idea.

“What do you think, Kotoko?”

Kotoko’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, but she eventually shrugged her shoulders. “I guess that could be fun…” 

*-*-*

“Masaru?” asked Kotoko pulling him out of his thoughts. She tilted her head at him with that all too familiar ‘you’re zoning out again’ look.

Masaru chuckled and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “Yeah…it’s been a while, but it could be fun right?”

Kotoko blinked at him but sighed with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I guess…” She sighed again. “I still think it’s kind of silly, but if you want to eat our takeout in a blanket fort, fine.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Nagisa.” Masaru crossed his arms with a playful pout, and Kotoko barely stifled a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the only time in Nagisa’s life he’s been called a bad influence.”

“I didn’t say bad. I meant boring, and he’s always been a boring influence.” Masaru chuckled as he sat the shopping bag filled with fairy lights on the counter. “Too bad he isn’t here to make sure our fort isn’t a fire hazard.”

“I think who we’re really missing is Jataro. Whatever we make will look like garbage without him.”

As Kotoko pulled an extra sheet out of the closet in the hallway and draped it over the backs of two chairs and the sofa, Masaru supposed she was probably right. Their fort wasn’t much to look at. Jataro probably would have been appalled if he had been there—Nagisa too for that matter though his issue would have been with the fort’s structural integrity rather than its meager aesthetic.

Masaru looked around for something heavy to hold the sheet in place, a trick he remembered Nagisa had tried out back in the day, before eventually deciding that Kotoko’s pots and pans would likely do the trick. Kotoko glared at him as he stacked her cookware on top of each other on the seats of the chair and sofa to anchor their makeshift roof, but she huffed with a look that said, “if you must…” Masaru beamed almost triumphantly as he added the finishing touches of draped fairy lights and crawled into the makeshift structure, sinking into the stack of pillows, throw blankets, and sofa cushions Kotoko had piled into their fort. For the first time in a long time, he almost felt like a kid again.  

“After you, Milady,” he teased with a playful bow, peeking his head out of the structure and motioning inside.

Kotoko rolled her eyes and tapped him teasingly on the back of the head muttering, “Goofball” before following him into the fort with the food containers.

Building a fort may have made Masaru feel like a kid again, but having to contort himself to comfortably fit inside said blanket fort given his long legs and broad shoulders reminded him that his childhood was long gone. After all, there had once been a time when not only him and Kotoko but Nagisa and Jataro as well could all easily fit in a blanket fort of this size, with space to spare, if he remembered correctly. He could still picture Jataro and Nagisa curled up next to each other sound asleep while he and Kotoko sprawled out on the floor of the fort staring up at the twinkling fairy lights. Maybe he should try that now, Masaru thought, as he decided to stretch his feet outside of the structure with a somewhat defeated huff.

Kotoko blinked at him before sprawling out on the ground next to him. The fairy lights overhead twinkled and sparkled. He hadn’t realized that he had purchased pink ones, but he supposed that was appropriate. He would probably forever associate Kotoko with the color even though she had long since dyed her hair and it had been ages since he had seen her wear anything pink. Even the pillows and blankets she had brought out for their fort were neutral tones—greys and beiges. He knew she had sworn off anything remotely “adorbs” long ago, but he still wished she hadn’t had to.

“Masaru?”

“Hm?” Humming, he shifted towards her, but she wasn’t looking at him—her gaze transfixed on the fairy lights.

“I lied.” Kotoko sighed, and Masaru’s brow furrowed. “I do remember the last time we built a blanket fort…”

Masaru blinked and scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for forgetting…”

Kotoko turned towards him with a slight smile as her hand ruffled through the ends of his unruly strands of hair. “I’m not as fragile as you think, you know?”

“I didn’t say you were—” he began, but she cut him off with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“But thanks.” Her smile widened, and Masaru’s own mouth curved into a beaming grin. Kotoko quickly reached for the takeout boxes with an almost playful, “Now let’s eat. I’m starving!” and that was the end of it. For the rest of the evening, they just sat together eating takeout and catching up, talking and laughing about the most mundane everyday things. But for Masaru, that was enough.

He had long ago accepted he wouldn’t be able to offer her a rescue, to tackle her monsters, no matter how much he wanted to, but he supposed sometimes all it took to be a hero was to be present, to be there for someone when they needed you. Masaru shrugged his shoulders. Kotoko was right: she wasn’t fragile. If anything, she was one of the strongest people he had ever known. And yeah…even Masaru could admit that maybe she didn’t need him, maybe she didn’t need some fairy lights or soba noodles or a blanket fort or the company of an old friend, but—he thought as a smile tugged at his lips—they couldn’t hurt.

*-*-*

“Masaru, are you still awake?”

Masaru somewhat groggily rubbed his eyes but rolled onto his side so he was facing her. “Mhmm…” he hummed, and it seemed like he was the only one who was still up as Nagisa and Jataro were leaning on each other, shoulder to shoulder and fast asleep. Masaru knew they had tried their best to stay awake all night, but they eventually tuckered out and crashed in the corner of their blanket fort. “You wanna have a contest to see who can stay up the longest? Nagisa and Jataro already lost.”

Kotoko chuckled breathily, quietly enough to avoid waking their sleeping friends. “You should get some sleep too.”

“What about you?” he asked with a frown.

Kotoko stared up at the strings of lights hanging from the canopy of blankets forming the roof of their fort almost pensively. After a long pause, she whispered, “Masaru…you were asleep earlier weren’t you? All of you were?” Masaru fidgeted but didn’t say anything—averting his eyes when Kotoko glared at him with a pointed “Masaru?”

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay, okay? We all have nightmares, and we all help each other. That’s what friends do, Kotoko, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Something panged in his chest. “If I could take all that away, if I could fight all the monsters, I would”—he curled his shaking hands into fists, his vision growing blurry—“but I can’t.” Nagisa hummed and stirred in his sleep, and Masaru realized his voice was growing louder than he had intended. He consciously tried to whisper as he repeated, “I can’t. I’m…I’m just a kid…” The next words spilled out of his mouth startling him nearly as much as they seemed to startle Kotoko. “Maybe…maybe if I’m older someday…maybe I’ll be strong enough to—”

Masaru stopped abruptly as Kotoko gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. It was only then that he really began to realize what he had said. “I…I don’t…uh…” he stumbled over his words. Though Masaru had lost track of how long it had been since they had given up on their ‘Children’s Paradise,’ he still wasn’t sure where his companions stood on the idea of growing old. He honestly wasn’t sure where he himself had stood on the subject and hadn’t really been aware that he had started to even consider the idea until those words had fallen out of his mouth just then. Still…he scrambled, “I…I didn’t mean to…I…”

“No, I… I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Kotoko confessed before adding quickly. “Don’t tell the others.”

Masaru nodded emphatically. “Hero’s honor.”

With a brisk, understanding nod, Kotoko sighed and sunk back into the stack of cushions and pillows lining the floor of their blanket fort. After another long, heavy pause, Kotoko whispered, “I think there are some monsters that will always be too big to fight...no matter how old and strong you are…”

“I’m still going to try.” Determinedly, Masaru clenched his hand into a fist. “No matter what, I’ll always be there to try to fight the monsters. Because that’s what a hero does.” His brow furrowed, and he twisted his mouth before he shrugged and  beamed at Kotoko with a bright lopsided grin. “And I guess if that doesn’t work, I can always build another blanket fort to keep them out.”

[hugeresolve]

for the character ask thingy you reposted: fuyuhiko!! :) <3

(thank you for enabling me LMAO)

favorite thing about them

i love how complex his character is, and that even though he has pretty unlikable traits/defense mechanisms at the beginning of the game, he really works on himself. he's got a moral code despite his upbringing and sticks to it, he cares about his friends and can admit when he's wrong. just a solid character

least favorite thing about them

THAT HE NEVER COMMENTED ON WHETHER HE LIKED IBUKIS MUSIC i hate that fucking hat in his official art HAHAHAH its way too fucking big for his head

favorite line

"What...? Do you still doubt me? Well, I'm used to it... It's true I've done things that I deserve to be doubted for... So don't worry...even if you doubt me, I don't plan on dismembering you and encasing you in concrete."

brOTP

hajime :] i think fuyuhiko could bring himself to trust hajime with just about anything. i also really love the brOTP potential with sonia and akane too, i think he can highly relate to them both in different ways

OTP

kuzupeko is legendary. so is fuyuhiko and hajime. i also like him and chiaki, they can play doom

nOTP

hmmm probably him and mahiru if anything.

random headcanon

he used to watch family dramas with natsumi when they were younger and that's where he gets all his knowledge of what civilian life is like/what normal families do (his assumptions are only correct like half the time)

unpopular opinion

people make him swear way too much in fanfiction... he does swear liberally but a lot of the time it's overdone

song i associate with them

Readymade - Ado - Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish

favorite picture of them

thanks for the ask :3

[nervous-alien]

~Blog Intro~

Hey my name is Cheyanne or Chey! I am bisexual and use she/her pronouns. I am an artist and a writer. I tend to make fanart and fanfiction but will occasionally make ocs.

I might not be as active rn cause i have school

Rundown:

Fav fandoms, characters, ships, music, and youtubers! Basically everything important that I may post about on here!

All art uses #cheyy's art

All fanfics use #cheyy's fics

All reblogs use #cheyy's reblogs

Any randoms things I say use #cheyy yaps

Also here is a link to all my other socials!

Plus links to all my posts by category >:)

All is down below!

Art and Fics by Category:

(alphabetically)

Danganronpa:

Gundham Tanaka:

| ❤️ | ❤️ | ❤️ |

Ishimondo:

| ❤️ | ❤️ | ❤️ | ❤️ |

Ishimondo Week 2024:

| Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 |

Kiyotaka Week 2024:

| Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 |

Let Me Save Him | At Least Once.../Ishimondo Fanfic:

| Ao3 Link | Wattpad Link | Intro | Chap 1 | Chap 2 |

everything related uses #lmshalo

Soudam Week 2024:

| Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 7 |

Five Nights at Freddy's:

Jeff:

| ❤️ |

Marvel:

Spider-Man:

| ❤️ |

Monster High:

Draculaura:

| ❤️ | ❤️ |

Ocs

Asher:

| ❤️ |

Sally Face:

Sal Fisher:

| ❤️ |

Twenty One Pilots:

Misc TOP:

| ❤️ | ❤️ | ❤️ | ❤️ |

My Favs:

Fandoms:

danganronpa (only thh and sdr2 rn)

twenty one pilots

fnaf

it

marvel

dc (mostly teen titans and batman)

helluva boss

Ships:

ishimondo/kiyotaka ishimaru x mondo owada (dr thh)

sakuraoi/sakura ogami x aoi asahina (dr thh)

leosaya/leon kuwata x sayaka maizono (dr thh)

naegiri/makoto naegi x kyoko kirigiri (dr thh)

naegami/makoto naegi x byakuya togami (dr thh)

soudam/kazuichi soda x gundham tanaka (dr sdr2)

komahina/nagito komaeda x hajime hinata (dr sdr2)

kuzupeko/fuyuhiko kuzuryu x peko pekoyama (dr sdr2)

reddie/richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak (it)

spideypool/spiderman x deadpool (marvel)

poolverine/deadpool x wolverine (marvel)

stony/ironman x captain america (marvel)

bbrae/beast boy x raven (teen titans/dc)

superbat/batman x superman (dc)

batjokes/batman x joker (dc)

stolitz/blitz x stolas (helluva boss)

Music:

twenty one pilots

blink-182

my chemical romance

panic! at the disco

green day

nirvana

foo fighters

the offspring

sum 41

simple plan

queen

def leppard

bon jovi

nickelback

eminem

one direction

olivia rodrigo

conan gray

YouTubers:

dantdm

laurenzside

markiplier

moriah elizabeth

jacksepticeye

lazarbeam

sam and colby

johnnie guilbert

kubz scouts

the boys

ludwig

That's all!!! This will be frequently updated as well!

[bravemccalll]

a flood of blood, all for you

There is blood dripping down my fingers, but you seem more concerned with this than I am.

“Your knuckles are busted but they aren’t broken,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “But your nose wasn’t so lucky. Damnit, Fuyuhiko,” you curse, reaching up to drag your hand through your hair in frustration and a streak of dark red is left in the pale colour.

I blink. Slowly. I know you’re talking but the words take light years to reach my ears as though we are on separate planets and you are shouting in a megaphone just to speak to me. Or as though I am in a swimming pool, sitting below the water and you are sitting above, your words causing ripples in the water. All these metaphors spin my head in a circle and it makes me feel sick, so I stop thinking and just focus on you.

Everything is going blurry, but you are clear, you always are, you always will be. I wonder if you know I’m in love with you. I suppose that you do, somewhere between the first bouquet flowers I bought you and punching that guy in the throat for catcalling you just an hour ago, I must have said something. I feel as though ‘I love you’ is strong enough to describe how I feel about you anymore. Perhaps at some point it could have been but the second you smiled at me for the first time, it became too weak. How do I describe to you that my heart is a fist that clenches whenever I see you? That my lungs only exist so that I can stop breathing when you make eye contact with me? I don’t know much about love in general, but I know enough to realise that what I feel is much more than that.

You’re frowning now and I hate that, even if you are beautiful with your brows pulled together and my blood staining your hair. You’re always beautiful. It’s beside the point. You’re frowning and I want you to stop because I want you to be happy, that’s all I ever want. I scramble to say something, anything. Half of me wants to talk about what happened, about how the anger I felt had pooled in my veins like hot lava when I heard that man whistle at you, how my knuckles had felt when they hit his cheek, how my head felt as though it had split open when he punched me back. I think you had looked angry as well, almost as angry as that time I fell off your mother’s ladder when I was trying to hang fairy lights above her front door, but the memory is fuzzy so I let it go and it floats away into the abyss.

The other half of me wants to talk about anything else. Maybe about that TV show we were binge watching last week or about that book you were reading when I came home late the other day, what was the name of it. I can’t remember.

“Fuyuhiko?” you say, still frowning, your hand cool where it cups my cheek. We had a running joke, didn’t we? About how you are always as cold as the dead but I am always as hot as a furnace? I can’t remember. “Fuyuhiko, are you alright? Fuyuhiko, what’s my name? Fuyuhiko.”

Peko, I want to say. Peko, Peko, Pekopekopeko. But the words don’t come and I feel like I’m frowning right back at you. What a pair we make, people must wonder if we ever smile.

You say something else but I don’t quite hear it and I feel like I’m back on that planet again, seeing you as a pinprick in the distance but you don’t have your megaphone anymore, or I’m underwater but there are no ripples in the water because you’re not there and I inhale sharply and suddenly my lungs are filled with water and I’m choking I’m drowning and there is a crack in my skull that seems to throb like a heartbeat – your heartbeat? – and you aren’t there and you should be there where are you where areyouwhereareyou?

What was I thinking? I can’t remember. I should tell you I love you, I think and close my eyes and slip into the abyss.

[aceredshirt13]

Chapters: 1/1 

Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences 

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 

Relationships: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko 

Characters: Pekoyama Peko, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko, Mioda Ibuki, Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime, Ishimaru Kiyotaka 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), I read some fic where Peko was inexplicably suave and flirtatious and this was my counter-response, she’s about as smooth as sandpaper, Peko trying to flirt is like that attempted seduction scene from the new Jumanji movie 

Summary: Peko is coerced into attempting to flirt with Fuyuhiko. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

~

I figured since I plan to start posting all my fics on Tumblr when (if) they come out, that I might as well post my old ones (queued over several days so I don’t flood anyone’s timeline) that I think still hold up, for the sake of posterity. This one’s two years old, but I think it’s still entertaining, and since I posted zero fics for the entirety of my high school experience, it’s the first fic I’d published since I was fourteen. (I will not be posting the ones before this because dear god you don’t want to read them.)

[sanseru]

I feel like this chapter needed a lot more context that I thought I had already added... but reading back through the chapters, I realized I had forgotten some stuff. I really apologize if there are parts of this chapter that are confusing. I tried to fill in the gaps where I could but it doesn't read very well-

Also, sorry for the wait! Lots of stuff is happening in my life right now that I won't go into. Just haven't had as much motivation to be artsy lately but I managed to finish another chapter, so yay! Hope it's alright!

[scottishkitty-arts]

Peko Pekoyama - Beastars AU

Species: (Albino) Thompson’s Gazelle

Backstory: Product ID Number Nine (affectionately named “Peko” by the heir to the Painted Hound Clan, Fuyuhiko) has no idea of her origins. All she recalls from her younger years are the dank, shadowy prison cells and the overwhelming scent of carnivore saliva. Thankfully for her, she was far too young to understand the implications of such a place- and after being bought by the Painted Hound Clan these vivid memories faded into obscurity.

However, her residency within the Painted Hound Clan, although a safer environment, was one tainted with hostility and superiority. All Herbivore servants were to be referred to by ID only, and if they dared step out of line, they were dealt with rather swiftly by their carnivorous rulers. Yet, instead of being afraid, Peko understood that this was her place. She understood that she was born to be a servant and never aspired to be anything more.

Peko was given brief martial training, so she could act to defend the clan in the case of arising conflict- and, surprisingly enough, she excelled! Utilising her incredible inherent swiftness and decisiveness, Peko quickly became formidable with a blade and caught the attention of the Clan’s Boss. Before she could even acknowledge her talent, Peko was assigned to be the personal bodyguard of the heir, Fuyuhiko.

At first, their relationship was tumultuous. Fuyuhiko had a raging temper the likes of which she’d never witnessed before or since- and he did not like that an herbivore was essentially babysitting him because “daddy said so”. More than once she was threatened with being devoured, but she knew his words were entirely empty. In fact, Fuyuhiko was one of the few members known to treat the servant with any respect.

Thankfully, after a few days, the Painted Hound settled and began to appreciate her company. He appreciated her to the point in which he gave her something she thought she’d never have: a name.

Peko.

If you would like to read more, feel free to check out my Danganronpa / Beastars crossover: “The Bloody Black Market”. Thank you for reading! :-)

[breadflavouredlemon]

New chapter out!!

The four year old hesitated a bit, but managed to ask a pretty bizarre question.

“Do you have a baby in your tummy?”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

---

Just so you know, I released the first two chapters before this one. So you can read it if you want, I hope you enjoy!!

[foryoupeko]

Then

Peko: Young Master.

Fuyuhiko: Stop calling me that! I told you we were done with that shit!

Now

Kuzupeko’s daughter: Hey dude!!!

Fuyuhiko: Don’t call me that, call me ‘dad’

Daughter: Okay… dude!!!

Fuyuhiko: She gets this from you

Peko: Poor Fuyuhiko 😏

[opalessen]

What if I posted a link to a KuzuPeko, canon compliant, fanfic i wrote a while ago,, aha, jk,,,,, unless,,,,,

Preview:

“You sure you won’t change your mind,” Monokuma’s tone was darker, tempting. “not even if I told you who this diary belonged to?”

That got Fuyuhiko’s attention, and sure enough scrawled across a white label on the front of the diary was the name, Peko Pekoyama.

[thatoneparanoidfreak]

Hey hey KuzuPeko lovers! I made a fanfic on AO3 about the relationship between Fuyuhiko and Peko in a non despair AU. If you want, feel free to check it out. Just a little shameless promotion.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35719822

[cosmicpeko]

Tool ㅡ Chapter 1: Rage

Word count: 1,071

OTP: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu x Peko Pekoyama | Danganronpa 2

Story type: fanfiction

Short summary: Peko Pekoyama dives into her most precious memories in an intimate journey to self-love, trying to live with emotions she can’t control and to discover what is like to be a real person. More notes at the end.

Read on AO3

ㅡ

My voice repeats: I am a tool. I was brought to this world to be by his side; I shall fulfill my purpose.

Mid-march rain falls on a wet wooden floorboard. Semi-open sliding door of the minka house hidden in the woods allows the wind to enter between the internal walls, run under the furniture, play with the paper on the floor ㅡ it untidies the room.

It caresses blonde hair. Freckles expose to the water ㅡ silky smooth skin becomes its path down to the pointy chin, through the neck, hides in the collarbones. Drops rest on his lips, tongue catches them, it drinks. He's smiling. He's relaxing every muscle of his body. He's resting ㅡ he's letting go. He breathes deeply. "I love rainy days. It feels like time stops for a while. Doesn't it, Peko?" A calling voice awakens my thoughts. Head raises, shoulders tighten. Humidity hurts my bones, angers my bruises. "It does indeed, Young Master." Red eyes wandering to finally meet hesitant green ㅡ I shall converse more, he demands, silently, as he keeps his gaze on me. I apologize. "...It feels like the sky is in a rage, too, though slowly but surely, it will pass. It has a rash temper, and it needs to let its anger go, then eventually, it manages to stop. Sometimes, it calms itself immediately, sometimes it destroys everything that falls victim under his reign. Mother Nature gave it immense power over us." Green eyes look delighted. Sweet humming slips from his still-smiling mouth. "You always get this poetic, dontcha? It's a women thing, you give them nothing, they play with words around it until they done covering it in fuckin' pink and flowers." He laughs. "How are you even 18? You sound like a nostalgic granny." I do not know what being poetic means. I happen to imagine inanimated objects embody different personalities. My Master ㅡ he reminds me of the sky. Every mood he owns is similar to its changes. He is calm and still like a summer night, he is impulsive like a storm. He is cheerful and fresh like a newborn sunrise, yet he is pained and melanchonic like a dying sunset. I've lived enough to see them all. "Does it hurt?" I am unworthy of his worried touch. But I don't dare to move. "It does not, Young Master." "Peko- you're literally a whole purple thing. Not even a mashed sweet potato looks this ugly." "I do not feel pain, Young Master. I live to serve you at my fullest - I need to be trained." Careless fingers gently press over the darkest spots on my left arm, then retreat, as he searches for even little hisses or whimpers of mine. Not one sound leaves me ㅡ I learned how to control myself with time. But I can still feel it ㅡ broken bamboo swords echoe inside my ribcage. Pristine fists turning purple and blue. Heart broken. Soul stronger. "Fine," his figure rises again and stands tall in front of mine. Distress contained in a self-hug, "I know this is your job and all, but please, don't push yourself too much. You are already strong enough. Just yesterday, you beat the shit out of that asshole at the pub like he was planning to destroy the world." "I do not deserve your worry, Young Master." "Peko, I said quit that "Young Master" shit-" he stops, suddenly, eating his own breath. I cannot decipher what is that is eating the perfect green of his iris as his gaze locks into mine. Something I never quite encountered before. Rage ㅡ but not the same as the sky's, nor the storm. Something different. Hot wind of the desert, carrying sand and flames. Burning hills. Searing gardens.

I am ashamed of how long I have been staring into my Master's eyes.

Hands rub together, trying to reduce the silence into a paste of aching shame, cold sweat, shivers ㅡ quickening heartbeats. "Fuckin' quit it, Peko." he repeats, voice calm and still. Summer night. "We agreed on it since we're starting school together again. I asked you kindly - this is starting to feel like I'm commanding you and I do not. Want. This shit. Got it?" Composure fights distress in an internal war I do not desire nor understand. I am still capable of holding myself back. "Yes-" tongue plummets in my throat "yes." "My fucking name, Peko." More heartbeats. Uneasiness. Silence. Composure. "I said what's my name, Peko." Head rises. Eyeballs tremble. Rain drips through blonde hair, through freckles, through silky smooth skin. The wind stopped cutting my cheekbones. "Young Master." Quick steps and pace ㅡ few seconds pass before his skinny figure starts rushing towards me. Red eyes follow instinctively like those of a fox preying on a rabbit in the snow, hands steady, knees firm. Last breath, a millisecond. Hold. He does not attack me. Instead, he kicks the wall behind me, where my back was laying, seeking relatively satisfying rest. I do not move, but I quiver. He retreats, then shouts. "My fucking name, Pekoyama!!!" Mind goes blank. Ringing sounds conquer my eardrums in a blink of time.

"Yes, Fuyuhiko!!! For God's sake!!!"

A growl leaves with the wind, scratches my throat and steals my breath. Every wall of the minka house shakes as I step upwards, stand taller than him, confront him unconsciously head-on. Teeth unraveled like fangs.

"When did you lose yourself, tool?" I want to know. When did I first witness my balance crumble. When did I allow emotions to get the best of me. How. How did I lose track of my inner being. "Don't you ever forget your life's only purpose. You don't get to have any other meaning than that."

How dare I confront my Master like that.

Instead, something is born anew through his face. Simultaneously. Fresh and wet sunrise across shiny lashes. He saw me, getting weaker under his command for the first time. He knows something I don't know. He sees something I don't see. He cracked me open.

Delicious chuckles flourish beneath his teeth. "Let's go," abstract flowers crown his newborn smile, perfume so numbing, "I want to go deer hunting last time 'fore we join a brand new hellhole." The distance between us increases as he runs outside the safe perimeter, completely run over by pouring rain.

He holds the keys to my soul.

ㅡ

So hello again. I really hope you liked this first chapter! More are to come. Peko is an extremely fascinating character to me and I can’t wait to dig into her a bit more and let you meet my version of her personality! This was heavily inspired by @thewildwilds beautiful art. 

A special thanks to her, who indirectly taught me to love Kuzupeko in a brand new way - I’m so obsessed with them. (I also really hope she sees this ,,)

[araxiis]

The Art Of Anaesthesia- Kuzupeko

For @let-it-be-canon ♡

Words: 2547 (jesus)

Based on the song The Art Of Anaesthesia by SayWeCanFly (video above)

Read on Wattpad

A/N: I had an idea for an AMV but I can't draw so I wrote it out :) it's really long and the format screwed up and I'm sorry

Bold italics are lyrics

---------------------------------------------------

Sometimes I think about who I should believe,

The people who are dead or the people who are free.

Sometimes I hear them as they whisper to me.

I try to stay awake so I won't die in my sleep.

The game was over. The Neo World Program had been destroyed, the students freed from their false reality. The 5 survivors woke up in a hospital, fashioned with everything they needed to recover from their stasis. Luckily for them, it was a rather quick process to get them back on their feet. When they could walk steadily on their own, they were permitted to go to the wing where the 'dead' students resided.

Sonia found Gundham's room first, with Kazuichi trailing behind her like a lost puppy. She tested the handle, but found the door to be locked. Akane did the same to Nekomaru's door, and received the same result. It seemed all the doors were deadbolted, impassable. Hajime lingered behind the rest, quietly coming to terms with the fact that there was no door with Chiaki's name written on it.

Fuyuhiko walked slowly through the wing, reading each nameplate carefully until he found the one he was looking for. He put his fingers on the edge of the door's small window and peered inside. She was there.

Lying unconscious, facing away from the window, glasses missing, but she was there. And according to the doctors, she would be okay. Fuyuhiko fumbled for the doorknob, but came up disappointed as he remembered the boundaries set. He heard Sonia's bright voice from behind him.

"Don't worry Fuyuhiko, it should not take too long for everyone to return to us."

She was wrong.

And I was quick to take a second look through

The window on the door of the operating room,

And the adrenaline, it threw my eyes

To the table on the floor where the patients lie.

I saw his face and I could not speak,

As the anesthetic kissed his cheek,

I felt my lips go cold and my limbs go weak

Because the body on the table where the patients die was me.

It was me.

It should have been him.

He should've been the one that got executed, not her. The whole thing was his stupid fucking idea anyways. He leaned his head back, resting it on the cold steel of Peko's room. Ever since the wing was opened six months ago, he spent every day sitting in front of her door. He would stay there all night if he could, but the staff weren't too fond of that idea. Sometimes he would talk to her, about how everyone was doing, about the final trial, whatever he was thinking about. He knew she couldn't possibly hear him, but it made him feel better either way. He saw Sonia down the hall, crying in front of Gundham's room, Kazuichi trying desperately to comfort her. Fuyuhiko closed his eyes tight, on the verge of tears but refusing to cry. It was gonna be okay. Just a little fucking longer.

Give me back my oxygen mask,

Cause I don't want to feel the walls of my heart collapse,

So put me under.

I would sooner die on this table

Than face what causes me to be so unstable.

The five of them sat in a small lobby in the hospital, waiting for the patient's wing to be open. They were talking normally, trying to distract one another from the harsh reality they were living. At seven precisely, a tired-looking doctor opened the door to the wing and addressed the classmates.

"Good news. The first of your classmates has woken up."

The doctor continued talking, but was unheard. The group sprinted past him and frantically started testing the doorknobs on the rooms. Fuyuhiko ran to Peko's door and clumsily reached for the handle.

It didn't move.

Something in his chest dropped. He couldn't contain his disappointment, but was distracted when he heard crying down the wing. Blinking his eyes clear, he continued to run until he reached the open door. Upon entering, he saw Sonia, crying, arms thrown around Gundham's shoulders. He looked like absolute hell, but there was no denying he was alive. Akane and Hajime were smiling politely, and Kazuichi was in the corner of the room, face as pink as his hair. Fuyuhiko half-smiled, nodded to Gundham, and left. He walked towards the room he was staying in, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was happy for Sonia, and Gundham, obviously, but he couldn't help but wish it had been Peko. He stopped by her door and placed his hand on the thin, wired window.

"Cone back to me soon, okay?"

There was a lie between my demons and me,

And a body made of paper in the passenger seat.

As I open my eyes, I could not see.

I felt the stitches come loose and the blood run free.

Six months after Gundham had woken up, almost all of their classmates had returned to them. There was no structure to their recovery. Two days after Gundham, Mikan woke up. About a week after, it was Mahiru. (That was a rather uncomfortable reunion for Fuyuhiko.)

Twelve of them were awake, but three remained asleep.

Nagito, Ibuki, and Peko.

Fuyuhiko sat in one of the poorly-upholstered chairs in the lobby, staring down at his hands. It had been two weeks since Teruteru woke up, the next person had to wake up soon, right?

Just then, he heard shouting down the patient's wing. His heart filled with hope. Someone woke up. It had to be Peko, right?

Yeah, it had to.

He ran towards the sound of voices, anxious and hopeful, but was stopped short when he found the source. The class was gathered in the room across from Peko's, door propped open, talking to Ibuki.

Ibuki...

Fuck.

Fuyuhiko's body began to shake. Why the fuck wasn't Peko waking up? It was his fault, wasn't it? He felt anger, worry, hate, building up inside of him, and he punched the wall at full force. The walls were sturdy and solid brick, but he couldn't feel anything but his blood boiling. He kept punching, yelling, until his fist was bloody and mangled. One punch hit a nerve that shot sparks up his arm, and he dropped his hand to his side. Sweating and overwhelmed, Fuyuhiko looked down at his broken, bloody hand, the pain of his actions finally setting in. His head went light as the pain started to spread, he felt his knees give out below him. He heard Hajime distantly call his name, and everything went dark.

And as my thoughts began to shake,

I felt the hand of the darkness kiss my face.

And then the devil woke up and he grabbed my throat.

He pulled me down to the place where the silence grows.

He looks at me with hollow eyes,

And he whispered my name as the flowers died.

I felt my heart go cold as I sank between

The ocean I am and the river I'm meant to be.

I'm meant to be...

Fuyuhiko opened his eyes to find himself lying in a hospital bed of his own. His clothes were still dusty and stained with blood, but his hand had been stitched up and wrapped in gauze. Running his good hand through his hair, he leaned back onto the paper-covered pillow.

"What the fuck happened?" He mumbled towards the ceiling.

"You passed out," a voice replied.

He was talking to himself, so he was rather startled when he heard the response. His head snapped towards the door, where he saw Hajime leaning against the doorframe.

"It was either shock or blood loss," he continued. "Twogami and I got you here, and Mikan helped the doctors fix you up. We're just across the hall from everyone else. You should be fine to walk around now, just be careful." Hajime turned to leave, but paused outside the door.

"Don't take too long though," he said over his shoulder. "There's.. something you should see."

With that he left, leaving only Fuyuhiko, considering his words. Something he needed to see? What the fuck was..

Holy shit.

Give me back my oxygen mask,

He practically fell out of the bed in his panic to get out of the room.

Cause I don't want to feel the walls of my heart collapse,

So put me under.

He ran faster than he ever had before, shouting breathless profanities at the nurses that tried to stop him.

I would sooner die on this table

He sprinted through the lobby, down the blank white halls, to the door he had spent so much time talking to. He forced his way through the group of his classmates gathered outside of it and-

Than face what causes me to be so unstable.

She had been looking for him too.

As soon as he burst into her room, their eyes locked. They stayed frozen like that for a while, Peko sitting perfectly straight in her bed, Fuyuhiko struggling to catch his breath in the middle of the room, eyes never leaving each other's. Eventually, Fuyuhiko slowly crossed the room to Peko's bed, and perched himself on the edge. Peko had so much she wanted to say to him, but for once, she wasn't able to find the right words. He rested his good hand gently on her leg and started the conversation himself.

"You look like hell."

Peko smiled weakly. "So do you," she retaliated, noticing the bandages on his arm. She reached out to take his hand in hers, but pulled her hands quickly to her chest when she realized what she was doing. 

"Forgive me, Young Master, I wasn't-"

Fuyuhiko leaned forward and took her clasped hands in both of his, startling her into silence. He held their hands between them, even though the rest of the class was only feet away.

"Forget that shit, Peko. I'm just so damn happy you're okay."

Peko felt her face go warm as the reality of his words set in. She could remember their last moments together on the island, but that hadn't been real.

This was real. They were real.

Fuyuhiko let go of her hands, which saddened her for a moment, until his hands came to rest on either side of her face. She felt her heartbeat quicken as he rested his forehead against hers. He stroked her cheekbone gently with his thumb, able to feel the corner of her mouth twitching up. Cautiously, Peko rested her shaking hand on his side, just to see what would happen. His smile grew wider, almost splitting his face in two, and he whispered something she could hardly hear. She couldn't be sure, and it could've been wishful thinking, but she could've sworn he said 'I love you'.

She slid her other arm around his waist and locked her hands behind his back. They could hear the quiet words of their classmates, as well as Kazuichi scoffing "fucking finally" and getting shushed by Sonia. They were both smiling wide, eyes closed, beyond thankful to be together again.

Now I'm standing by the window on a Sunday.

And I can't quite recall

Why I cannot move at all

Neither one of them wanted to leave the other's side, but Fuyuhiko insisted Peko start the recovery process as soon as possible. Her body was weak from being immobile for so long, so, much to her dismay, she was bound to a wheelchair. Most days she sat with her back to the room, staring vacantly out the window.

And I feel so tired and wounded,

Like the stitches on my soul came apart.

I'm standing here in the dark.

Despite his protests, the doctors refused to let Fuyuhiko stay with Peko at night while she recovered. During the day, however, you would never find him anywhere else. He stood by her side when she stared out the window. She would admire the view, he would admire her.

Well, maybe it's from the drinks we had last night,

But good god, I love those friends of mine.

The best that alcohol can buy.

Sometimes they talked, but mostly they enjoyed the silence. It was that special kind of silence, where you don't have to talk to enjoy each other's company. On this day in particular, though, Peko's voice cut through the quiet.

"I could hear you. While I was asleep."

Fuyuhiko raised his eyebrow slightly, but said nothing. Peko was still staring out the window, but her eyes seemed less vacant than they were before.

Or maybe it's from the lack of sleep,

But all those secrets I've kept, trying to be so sweet to you.

It's dark, my dear,

But it got me through,

It got me through.

"Most of the time, it was just dark. Dark and quiet," she continued. "Sometimes, though, I heard you talking. It was difficult to tell what you were saying, but I am certain it was your voice. I was unsure what it meant, but," she paused. "But I had reason to believe you were okay. And it was.. very relieving. Before I woke up, I remember hearing you yelling. You sounded hurt, but it got suddenly silent a moment later. I believe-" she looked down at her knees. "I believe my concern for you in that moment was the reason I was able to wake up."

Fuyuhiko stayed silent, causing Peko to fear that the words she chose were the wrong ones. She searched for the right words to apologize with, but her panic was cut short by the feeling of his lips on hers.

So give me back my oxygen mask,

She would be lying if she said she had never imagined this moment before, but never in a million years did she think it would actually happen.

Cause I don't want to feel the walls of my heart collapse,

So put me under.

It wasn't just their professional relationship that wavered her hope; she knew him well enough to know he wasn't exactly the sentimental type. She was unaware at the time, but losing her had been the thing to change him.

I would sooner die on this table

She wasn't complaining though, quite the opposite. She was rather inexperienced though, so she was unsure what she was meant to do. Luckily, she wasn't the only one who was nervous.

Then face what causes me to be so unstable.

She brushed her fingers through his hair, their kiss growing more intense.

Causes me to be so unstable.

He rested one hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

Causes me to be so unstable.

They could worry about consequences later. For now, they were the happiest they had ever been.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm only a ghost,

Wearing human skin I never chose.

I listen to the devil as he spoke

Because he tempted me with a beautiful rose.