“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The paper has it spelled out like sunrise over a lake; she can’t help but look at it until she has to make herself look away. Her first ‘client’, the fellow student she’s meant to be shadowing for the week, the person she is tasked with protecting if she wants to pass this class after transferring in partway through the semester is none other than–
“Ooh, bad luck.”
(Part of the TAPP AU, also on Ao3)
Ouma’s voice squeaks out from beside her upper arm so suddenly she flinches.
“Oh please, Harukawa, don’t tell me I caught you off guard. That’s like, your entire thing, now!” he sounds so jovial, without a care in the world, but his chest heaves as though he also just shuddered down to the core.
“You did this.” She states it without room for uncertainty.
“Why the hell would I do that?” he flicks his hand toward the sheet of printer paper pinned to the corkboard, the one that has condemned them for the next one-hundred-sixty-eight hours. It’s up there for the whole school to see. “It’s not even my MO to hack this school’s ancient copy machine, or whatever, I’m out for a good time. Besides, I’d like to live, thanks much.”
Maki is entirely unimpressed. “It is precisely your MO to stomp on my nerves in every way you can,” she enunciates with each step forward.
His grip tightens around the handle of his cane, still smiling. His knuckles threaten to rip themselves to shreds.
“Actually,” a voice chimes in, stern but not unkind. “It makes perfect sense, does it not? You are both in Class 79, which ought to alleviate some of the initial awkwardness.”
Silver hair catching the artificial overhead light, teaching assistant and upperclassman Peko Pekoyama overshadows the pair from behind. “Besides, as the Ultimate…” her eyes narrow, incredulous. “... Supreme Leader, Ouma is going to need a security detail someday.”
Maki glares up at her for all of a split second before dutifully lowering her gaze. It's less that the Ultimate Swordsman is intimidating than that she's so... coldly supportive. The kind of person whose praise is lined with mist and whose fury is a downpour. It'd be a shame to disappoint her, especially over Kokichi, of all people.
"Oh, but Peko-peko-chan, don't you know? Maki and I have been sworn enemies since we were kids! You'd really let that mean ol' teacher pair me up with my nemesis?! That's so cruel!" Kokichi leans in on his cane for leverage, arms crossed in front of him as he acts out the phrase in big, encompassing gestures. That's a lie. But...
Unfortunately for both of them, it only seems to reassure Peko that the path forward is clear. "It'll be a fine challenge for the both of you, then. You’ll be able to focus on two objectives at once: gaining experience staying alert, and equal experience working with difficult clients.”
Kokichi scoffs in the background, of course, but it's hardly worth arguing. He tries to get in your head and stay there, after all. If anything, being ‘difficult’ is a point of pride for him. His eye still seems to twitch a little at the admission. It’s probably just the dry autumn air.
Maki, inventing new curses in her head and keeping them there, nods sagely. "Of course, Ms. Pekoyama. I won't let you down."
She looks over to her current mark.
It's going to be a long week.
------------------
The week starts off innocuous enough. The worst of it comes at the beginning of each day as Kokichi pulls his books out of his locker. Literature, World History, ... Calculus II? Each slams into the floor with a resounding thud, one after another. Some of them won't even see use until near the end of the school day, but he insists she carry them now. Spiteful little shit.
Many of their general education classes are shared to begin with, fortunately, meaning the two of them simply have to walk between classes together for a while. It isn’t quite embarrassing as much as it is frustrating for Maki. Does he even really need a cane, or is it just a ploy to get the teacher’s sympathy? They saunter down the hallway in either case, uncaring of the actual time they arrive. Five minutes late, ten minutes, even; neither incurs a penalty, a bit of an affront to her own persistent punctuality. ‘This school is his’ indeed.
No. The real trouble starts brewing during their free periods.
"The autumn leaves are home to a variety of bug species," lectures Gonta, sitting cross-legged in the courtyard. Kokichi sits beside him, dredging through a pile of leaves; pick up, flip, sort, over and over. Maki remains stock-still and focused on defense. Peko could be hiding around any given corner, assisting a teacher lying in wait for an ambush just to make a point about vigilance.
But it’s a bit hard to stay on edge when things are so… unremarkable. So normal.
"As an example, early-emerging populations of Actias luna in North America lay eggs on the undersides of leaves to keep larvae and pupas safe during winter until the adults appear in March." Despite Gonta’s better efforts choosing a more palatable bug for discussion, neither Kokichi nor Maki seems to be paying actual attention.
"Which has to be why the leaf piles make such a good crunch when you jump in'em, riiiiight?" Kokichi teases, crushing the pile of leaves he's sorted beneath the base of his palm. He throws his back into the motion with a sadistic smile. It breaks into the same mischievous laugh as usual soon after, nishishi~!
Gonta, however, seems unalarmed; perhaps he sees the un-smashed pile, the ones with even just the potential to have 'stuff on'em'. Instead, he smiles. "That might be the beetles, they love hiding in leaves."
"Ewwww!" Kokichi wipes his hand on his pants, despite the distinct lack of bug entrails on them. "Great! Gonta, you can't just ruin fall like that! Now I'm gonna be thinking about nasty beetles when I just wanted to have some fun..." he makes a point to frown, but seeing no real reaction the expression disappears as quickly as it came.
"I not– I'm not ruining fall, it's too hot out to be real fall. It's messing with the bugs’ hibernation cycles...."
Maki finds she's won a fourth consecutive mental game of tic-tac-toe with herself before she finally sighs. Would it be out of line to suggest going inside? Perhaps a more enclosed space will help her readjust to the objective.
Before she can suggest such a thing, Kokichi beats her to it.
“Yeah, it’s waaaay too hot out for September, I’m beat. Harukawa-chan, can we go back inside now?” he doesn’t bother to pout, eyes going from half-lidded to three-quarters wide seeing the barely-contained irritation on Maki’s face.
“Gladly.” She stands without hesitation, turning to Gonta. “Thank you for having us.”
“Of course, is only polite thing to do,” smiles Gonta. Kokichi is a touch intrigued.
“What are you thanking him for, I bet you weren’t even listening! You haven’t taken that scowl off your face all day.” He leans a bit to his left, accentuating the roll of his eyes.
“I knew that you wouldn’t.” Maki says simply, opening the cold glass door.
Kokichi is shocked, appalled he’d tell you, with a loud gasp! Then he shrugs a little. “Eh. I wasn’t bored, anyway.”
Gonta waves, cheerful as ever, as the door swings shut.
The foot of his cane practically skids across the terrazzo tile as Kokichi takes off down the hall.
“What’s got you in such a hurry?” Maki asks before she can think better of it; Ouma is still faster than she’d given him credit for.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Ultimate Assassin.” The reply comes quick and sharp, bitterness rising in his voice that hasn’t seen the light of day since well before the game ended.
Before she can ask ‘why now?’ or some such thing, as though there’s any logic behind what Ouma does in the first place, he’s looking at her expectantly from his perch just at the threshold of the main library doorway.
“Dunno about you, but I, for one, have homework. I’m looking for a book, silly, don’t you guys use those?” he shakes his head lightly, keeping the door open by leaning on it and waiting for her to go through. It takes a moment of the two staring at one another to determine who is going to relent; Maki walks a step inside as Kokichi beelines for the reading chairs.
Ah, the reading chairs. Only marginally more acceptable than the stiff, borderline crunchy upholstery of most of the furniture on campus. At least there’s no punishment for sitting on these. Surrounded by deep forest green carpets and a dim, subdued atmosphere one risks sinking into should they stay still for too long, the library is quiet. Starkly quiet. The sound of breathing itself seems to echo, not at all damped by the depth of archways and sub-sections of books and books upon books.
Kokichi looks idly up at the rafters, looking for something he must not find.
“What’s wrong?” Maki reluctantly asks, curiosity overpowering her better sense.
“It’s hot in here,” Ouma replies, his voice… uncharacteristically soft. It’s impossible to tell what emotion comes attached, if there is one at all.
“The air conditioning has been broken in this building all day, I hear.”
There is an awkward silence between them, an absolute vacuum of small-talk.
He takes a deep breath, only to look back over at Maki. “Welp. This place is huge, so. Might as well get crackin’, book’s not gonna find itself!” He smiles a little too wide for his face as he launches upright, looking over his shoulder and taking off into the canopy of books. “Be back in a bit!”
“Alright,” says Maki, striding over to meet him. “Where are we going first?”
Kokichi shakes his head. He’s sorely mistaken if he thinks it’ll be that easy to get rid of you. “Hmm, iunno. I’ll know it when I see it,” he chirps as he changes directions, taking a few dizzying turns before coming to a brief pause.
What is his problem? What does he get out of making this difficult for the both of you? Surely boredom can’t overtake the selfish want to do less work… yet, sure enough, he’s speed-walking away again.
Maki doesn’t need to look up to explain the sudden chill down her spine.
“Kiyo-chan! Fancy meetin’ you here,” Ouma laughs, stepping to the shelf opposite Korekiyo as Maki walks up to the two of them.
“Not exactly, Ouma, you know quite well I’ve been tasked with the maintenance of some of the anthropology department’s rarer books,” Kiyo shakes his head, adjusting his mask. “... No, I won’t be taking you to them. I was actually looking for a project on Minoan mythos in relation to pre-Hellenic…” he cuts himself off.
Really, Maki thinks to herself, it’s hard to believe this awkward kid could have been the monster he once was. That’s the thing about monsters, though, isn’t it? In real life they don’t have horns or tails like the minotaur….
“Say. What are you visiting the library for? Your field is not precisely predicated on a large literary basis, is it?”
“Kiyo-chaaaaan! No fair! Are you telling me I don’t look like I read? ‘Cuz I can read plenty, as long as it’s not BORING me to death!!” Kokichi leans on his cane, slightly swaying. “I like libraries. They’re like obstacle courses, and half the time nobody is even in them to get in the way!” he smiles. “But that’s a lie.”
“He’s looking for a book,” Maki chimes in, startling both Korekiyo and Kokichi back a few steps.
“Oh, is that all? What kind of book are you looking for, Ouma? Certainly I could be of assistance.” Kiyo nods, possibly(?) smiling, and at the very least visibly trying to maintain a less standoffish posture.
“That won’t be–”
“Binary star formation,” the two phrases come in at the same time. Kokichi continues, “and the history of their discovery.”
Kiyo stares at Kokichi for a moment, in (confusion? Disbelief? It’s difficult to tell, with so much of his face obscured and those piercing eyes ready to strike at any time…) before nodding. “Of course. I believe I recall where that one is, it was returned quite recently.”
Ouma stares idly into the distance for a split-second, an automaton re-calibrating on the fly. “Right. Duh, but I need it now, so.”
Sure enough, Korekiyo is only away for a matter of minutes before returning with a single large tome. The book seems more focused on general astronomical phenomena, but must have a chapter or two dedicated to binary stars. Should have picked something more obscure, Maki huffs at the thought, if you really just wanted to cause trouble. Let me guess, that isn’t–
“That’s exactly it!” says Kokichi, who excitedly starts flipping through the pages. Korekiyo looks like he wants to scold him, be more careful, but restrains himself from doing so. Nonetheless, the two share a look; Kokichi suddenly feels like maybe he should slow down, lest unsavory things happen to his nerves.
Just a feeling.
Things look, for once, to be going well again. Ouma is reading (or, at least, glaring at a page), freeing up Maki’s attention to better scope out the area.
… At least, until “Kiyo-chan? The text is so small, I can barely read a thing!”
Don’t get involved, don’t worry about it, Maki, you have a mission!
“Then why don’t you take it back to one of the reading areas? It’s certain to be brighter there.” Korekiyo shrugs, back to looking at the shelf ahead.
“Can’t you read it to me, Kiyo-chan? Pleeeease, you have such a nice reading voice!”
Korekiyo stops, for a moment, glaring at Kokichi. “And that’s a lie, certainly.”
“What! You’re calling me a liar! Kiyo-chan, that’s so, s-so,,” the tears start to well up, if only slightly. Is he losing his touch with the waterworks? “Accurate, yeah, but not this time! If I didn’t tell the truth some of the time, it’d make the lies too obvious! And that’s no fun at all.”
“... Ah,” says Kiyo, uncertain of how to take a compliment.
“So?”
“Oh yes, right. Hmm. It can’t be that large of a diversion, surely…”
Such is how Korekiyo winds up over by the reading chairs, telling a dubiously-interested Kokichi about disk and turbulent fragmentations. “Where the instability and arbitrary motion cause a core to split off into multiple masses of gas and dust that collapse into independent protostars,” so the reading goes, “that are close enough to one another they become entangled in mutual orbit.”
Maki can hardly say she’s particularly invested, even if it would be nice to have a better idea of what Kaito’s blathering on about half the time now that classes are in full swing. Still, something in her can’t help but hang on to this itch of unease, as though at any moment something will go wrong. She’s supposed to be watching Kokichi, but finds herself looking more at Kiyo than the surroundings. There is no danger there, anymore, though you’d have been more likely to get hurt than Ouma. But this feeling you can’t… no. That you refuse to name, this resentment, it takes residence in your bones and won’t let go. Is it because he’s been programmed as having been a killer? Aren’t you the very same? And when it really mattered, didn’t both of you decide to k–
The slightest sound makes Maki jump into action, fists at the ready to block an incoming blow, only. Huh. It seems it was just the weight of the book closing.
Kokichi sits up a little straighter, speaking a little louder (before, begrudgingly, quieting down, because this is a library). “Thank you, Kiyo-chan~ That would’ve been soooo boring to get through alone, you know? Nishishi, I’ll still be expecting your application for DICE one of these days! Best not disappoint,” he leans back in the chair, only to swing up to standing.
Korekiyo simply rolls his eyes, but there’s something undoubtedly fond in the gesture. If there weren’t, the fact would make itself known near-immediately; instead, Kiyo simply picks up the book to put it back on the shelf. “Is that all you needed, then?”
Kokichi exaggerates a sigh. “Not by a longshot, but I think I left the rest in Miu’s lab,” he rolls his head back, momentarily looking at the spot where Maki has planted herself, arms crossed. “So I gotta run. Laters!”
As Kokichi is picking his cane back up (and staring at the foot for a moment, making sure he’s placed it on the correct side for now. Working on making the ruse more realistic, perhaps, Maki posits, though she dares not say such a thing aloud), Maki nods in acknowledgement of Kiyo.
After an awkward pause, Kiyo nods back. “Miss Harukawa.”
But the pair are off again, out of the library and en-route to Miu’s lab.
The silence between the two of them is thick. Neither is perturbed by the light traffic traveling in either direction down the hall, staying steps apart but not quite identifiable as a ‘group’. Much remains unsaid between the two. Neither dares disrupt the precarious balance maintaining a stoic facade, and the awkward silence stays.
At least, while only in the company of one another.
“Hey!” Kokichi yells, swinging open the door to Miu’s lab with reckless abandon, startling a very focused Chihiro and Kazuichi sitting at the far end of a long table. “Where’s that boisterous blonde–”
“That is the best most bodacious boisterous blonde bitch to you, ‘ya shitstain.” Miu looks up from her workbench, approaching the opposite side of the long table with a haughty laugh.
“Mm, nope. Too wordy. Might mistake you for a nerd,” he teases, pointing up and down at a Miu dressed in her lab coat and covered from goggles to toe in smears of motor oil.
“Oh please, haven’t you figured out yet that I’m beauty and a brain?”
“And a nerd, yeah, I got that.”
The pair bicker like old friends, though it’s only recently they’ve had a chance to talk over their time in the killing game. Perhaps it’s easier for them to act like it never happened; it’d be hypocritical of Maki to judge.
Although…
“So you’ll concede she’s beautiful?” Maki tugs on her hair, wrapping it around her finger with a smirk. One sentence sparks a good five minutes of playful arguing, nuh-uh yuh-uh, and mild shoulder-punching. In terms of the assignment, it’s permissible, but on thin ice.
The perimeter seems clear in here, anyway, only the five of them. Chihiro and Kazuichi seem too engrossed in whatever project they’re working on to bat an eye at the two’s banter, and there’s no good angle for an ambush. Besides, it’d be irresponsible to initiate a confrontation with so many metal scraps and machines around. Still, she has to remain on alert.
… Though she can’t help but listen when she hears Miu launch into a small tirade: “What I’m always working on, dumbass, and a couple things besides. Picture this: you’re me, and you’re ‘getting a regular checkup’ because you’re ‘recovering from a traumatic experience’ and all that junk. And I’m sitting there, wasting valuable workable time between classes, just for them to call me up to do, like, the same three tests they always do? And I think to myself, man, wouldn’t it be genius if you could just step into a booth, or a pod, or something like that when you get there, and it does all of that preliminary stuff on you at once so you can just be done with it already? And this was like, two? Days ago? So you know I have a prototype.”
Kokichi looks nonplussed, to say the least.
“Haven’t you been working on anything less… totally mundane, than that? Maybe like a shrink ray, or a portal device or a body-swapper, or something exciting?”
“Well, you know I’m building an android, but we all know how you feel about that.”
“I do not need the list of features you’re giving that thing. Nobody, needs the list of features you’re giving that thing.”
“W-W, h-hey! I’m not gonna be weird about it,” Miu pouts, voice getting soft for a moment. “That’s like, totally crossing a line…” only to pick back up. “Nah, I’m not gonna load in any kinky shit until I can ask him about it!”
“Is that finally an answer to the question I’ve been asking for like three months now? We’re going with ‘robots only have dicks upon request?’”
Maybe it’s better to stop listening, actually. Not that Maki is given the choice.
“Point is, I still need a test subject! Why not you, while you’re right here? Every experiment we’ve run so far has been demonstrably fine, quit your worry-warting already ‘ya buzzkill.” Miu scoffs, rolling out a wardrobe-sized booth on a dolly.
“But Iruma-channnn,” Kokichi whines. His eye twitches, scanning the new device up and down, only more resolute that “there’s no way I’m gonna go in there unless it’s got AC!”
“That can be arranged,” says Miu, writing at the bottom of a spare paper. “Now, get over here so we can get this show on the road!”
“Nnnnn can’t make me.”
“Come on.”
“Nah.”
“It’ll be fine!”
“For you, maybe.”
“You know what? Fine. Hey Maki!” Miu calls, waving to where Maki is stationed around the corner. “C’mon, this’ll only take, like, two minutes, you in?”
Great. You’ve been Acknowledged.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Maki starts to stammer, but Kokichi has suddenly lit up.
“Ooh! Do it, do it Maki!”
“I really don’t think I should distract from–”
Suddenly, both Miu and Kokichi are peering over the table, all but pounding their fists against the wood as they chant “Do it, do it!”
If anything, their exuberance makes her want to give in less, but the coast is clear, for now… Chihiro gives Maki a withering look. Doesn’t seem like they’ll run out of steam any time soon.
“... Fine.”
Kokichi and Miu turn to one another and high-five, cheering in unison.
“Great,” Miu breezes by, opening an entrance to the box. “Come on in.”
Maki is immediately enveloped in what at first looks like a photo booth but, upon examination, has too many blinking lights and moving parts to be one. In lieu of a screen, a plexiglass barrier shows off the dim reflections of the moving mechanics, leaving the subject to back up into position. A thermometer pops out of the front panel at the same time as a blood pressure cuff restrains her left arm, a bar descending to the top of her head to record her height. Every metric is recorded on a tiny screen on the outside of the chamber.
Experiment: success. The device certainly does its job. Whether it’s been done well is questionable, but it certainly has been done.
Meanwhile, Kokichi has been lounging in quite possibly the single Good Chair in the entirety of Hope’s Peak, talking to Miu about something indistinct. By the time Maki walks out of the machine a matter of minutes has passed.
It feels like it’s been hours.
And Maki is not happy.
“Ouma? I need to talk to you.”
“Can’t it wait? I sorta–”
“Now. Ouma.”
Kokichi keeps his head down, but follows Maki’s footsteps.
“We’re leaving. Goodbye, Miu. Hope you got your data.” Maki states, perfectly deadpan. She turns, practically dragging Ouma by the wrist.
“Harukawa, I’m sorry i–”
“That’s a lie,” Maki helpfully completes the thought, marching out into the hallway. “You’ve been lying all day, making up any excuse you can to be as distracting as possible just waiting for me to screw up. But it isn’t going to work. We are going, to your room, and you will stay there, and it will be quiet. Do you understand?”
Kokichi stops walking. He does not pull away from her hand any further than the natural distance that comes as he stops, glaring up at her with an oddly-canted eye.
“You think you can ground me, Child-Caregiver? All I want is to hang out with my friends, and get to do it at a decent goddamn hour, and that’s SO bad? Aww, am I inconveniencing you? What would you rather be out doing. Huh? Would you rather be hunting me down for sport–”
Maki snaps out of her shock, shaking her head. “UGH! Not everything is always about YOU, you know!” She storms a few steps ahead.
“Well excuse me if you aren’t exactly open about your hobbies,” Kokichi scoffs, jogging up a few more stumbling steps to meet her. “If you insist on making our little forced-bonding-time absolutely miserable, I guess, be my fucking guest.”
“It’s not about fun, it’s about salvaging the entirety of this semester! Out of all of us, you should understand that!”
“Oh, so there is an ‘us’! I thought it a mere myth on the breeze, oh please, Harukawa, regale me with tales of how our miserable myriad of troubled teens that calls itself a class constitutes any kind of Unit,” he coughs on the end, running out of breath. A bit of spit drips from the corner of his mouth, hastily wiped away by a hand before he makes a big swinging gesture with his cane.
This, it turns out, is a mistake.
First, his cane clatters to the floor. In and of itself, this isn’t surprising; at least it didn’t go through a window or otherwise launch across the hall, instead dropping down at Kokichi’s side.
Then Kokichi falls down with it.
He nearly faceplants, the only buffer coming in the form of outstretched arms in front of him that immediately buckle.
Maki stifles half of a laugh. That’s what your overly-theatrical-ass gets when you try to act larger than life itself. She holds out a hand to help him back up. Frustrated as she may be, she isn’t cruel.
… But he doesn’t take it.
In fact, Kokichi doesn’t seem to be moving much at all.
Thinking fast, she immediately turns him onto his side in a recovery position. Still breathing– heavily, at that, as it’s taking up the majority of his focus just to do that much. It’s a full minute before he starts trying to talk.
“Mmaki’alls sumiki,” is about all he can say, saliva rolling down his face, eyes glassy. One eye moves slower than the other as he tries to look up at her in that disturbingly blank way of his.
He says it again.
She doesn’t know what to do.
In for four, hold for four, out for four.
You can’t react this way to a little surprise. Cool heads prevail, Maki, you know this.
She feels a hand on her shoulder.
“Maki? Thank goodness I was following you. Listen, both of you, I’ve called my classmate Mikan. She is a nurse. What I need you to do, Maki, is help me pick him up. Ouma, just keep breathing…” Peko Pekoyama commands, picking up the cane to carry with her bag as she prepares to pick up Kokichi.
There’s an upset indignant note from him, an ‘uh, no shit,’ that pierces through the existential terror. That’s a good sign. That means not every scrap of consciousness needs to be dedicated just to staying alive. “I ‘ust, ‘eed’an ninit,” he tries to speak again, getting steadily more exasperated with himself. Even so, he does not cry.
No matter how he may want to, he does not cry.
------------------
Kokichi Ouma finds himself in a hospital room yet again. Maki Harukawa, however, finally finds herself at liberty to have him out of sight as she leans against the closed door.
Now you can panic.
“Maki?” Peko asks, tilting Maki’s chin up to meet her gaze.
Nevermind.
“You did the right thing, initially. Okay? You put him in a position where he could breathe, which is probably the most important thing you could have done.”
Maki stammers, tugging on her hair with an iron grip. “I did not do the right thing, initially. That’s the problem,” she admits, shaking her head. It’s difficult to stifle the ghost of tears blocking out her vision.
“Hm? What do you mean?” Peko asks, guiding Maki over to sit in a pair of chairs beside one of the many windows on this floor.
No matter how hard she tries to stop them, once they start the words won’t stop flowing. “I mean that it’s my fault he’s like this!”
“... Maki, I saw it, it was an accide–”
“In the game, I shot him. Twice. With laced bolts, he. He just took Kaito, and was planning, s-something, and we were all so scared and I thought he was going to kill him so I covered them in strike-nine, and I shot him. Twice! And I went for a third…”
Peko is taken aback for a moment. Class 79 tends not to talk about their experiences in the simulation, so to hear things like shot and kill only confirm every terrible rumor she’s heard about the entire debacle. She blinks, once, then twice.
“Maki, I. I had no idea.”
Maki pulls on her hair, looping it around her whole hand and it still isn’t enough. “I know, I know, I’m an assassin, Ms. Pekoyama, and he’s the only mark I’ve ever actually killed myself.”
Peko is loath to let the silence spread between the two of them, yet she isn’t sure of what to say. Still, she says anyway: “I am. So sorry, that happened between you two. I assure you, I did not have an understanding of this. History, before I suggested you be paired together.”
“A-and now, now it’s my fault he collapsed, because whatever is wrong with him started because I poisoned him, because I’m a heartless, murder machine a-and,,” Maki hiccups, a hand over her face. She hasn’t even gotten this far into the story with her therapist, yet she sees enough of herself in Peko to entrust her with this secret.
“... I know what it is like to live with regret.” Peko offers. “It is never easy to choose one life over another. I don’t think that it should be, either. You should never have had to make that choice, but you did, and you made it as well as anyone could. You wanted to defend your friends, Maki, and you did. You cannot agonize about how things might have been after the fact if you want to move forward.”
Maki just stares at her hands, and cannot scrub away the illusion they are bright, bold magenta.
“... Maki?”
But Maki is far down the hall, watching Kaito close the door to that damn hospital room, because he’s betrayed me, again.
“... I hated him.” She takes a deep breath, and lets the words swish around in her mouth for a moment before spitting them back out: “I hated him. I wanted him to suffer. He was irritating, and a threat, and I didn’t– I don’t understand him, and I wanted him to get away from me and everyone I care about.” Deep breath in. “So I shot him, with a crossbow, and I laced the bolts with the slowest-acting poison I could find, so he wouldn’t know peace the same way the rest of us hadn’t.”
“Ah,” says Peko, surprised but without any tone of judgment. After all, it is Peko’s turn to think, wouldn’t that be hypocritical? “Multiple things can be true at once, you know. Just because some part of you wanted vengeance does not overwrite your intentions to defend. I’ve only ever known you to want to protect the innocent, Maki, and even if you haven’t always been that person, that is the kind of person you are becoming. Every last one of you was in significant distress at that time, and that includes you. You shouldn’t let self-hatred cloud your perception.”
Maki nods ever-so-slightly.
“What you did was. Excessive, yes, and you should not have done it. But it is in the past now, Maki. The fact that you feel remorse for it proves you aren’t ‘heartless’. You made a poor decision, with a high price. All that can be done for it now is to atone in ways you can. Sometimes, remembrance is all you can offer. But you,” Peko points at the flower on Maki’s uniform, “have a unique gift in all of this. Ouma is still alive now. In this life, you can still make amends.”
Maki sniffs, then holds her breath. In for three, hold for five, hold for four, hold forever… the tears just won’t slow. “It was cruel. I, was cruel, I don’t. I don’t want to be that way, not even to him. I-I want to. Amends, I want to,”
Peko smiles. She takes both of Maki’s hands into her own. “Then you will. You’ve already started, after all.”
The more Maki thinks of it, this whole shadowing experience has shown off facets of Ouma’s personality she hadn’t seen before. He does not like bugs, but still tolerates them out of care for his friendship with Gonta. He could have been cruel and smashed all the leaves, but he picked out any that even may have had eggs on them. Kokichi could have been legitimately cruel, yet he wasn’t. Kiyo, quiet as he is these days, is willing to accept him because Kokichi has accepted him in return. Even Miu, after she tried to bash in his skull with a hammer, has come around to not just tolerating his presence, but coming to enjoy it. Enough to make a machine for the medical wing since he, her friend, is in and out of the hospital so often… so he’s claimed.
Maki can only reconcile now that at least some, possibly all of those claims of chronic pain and complications are very real. Part of her knew this all along, but didn’t want to believe it; it’s easier, after all, to lie to yourself. Hadn’t Kokichi said something to that effect, so long ago?
Despite how irritating he is, despite his best attempts to get under her skin, despite being Kokichi Ouma, he’s… admittedly, a decent friend when it counts. And, perhaps, someday they can be friends as well.
“I still. It. It’s so stupid,” she shakes her head. “I-I better not…”
“But you want to say it, right?” Peko nods.
“I still feel. Jealous? Kaito can do what he wants, of course, but ever since the simulation it’s felt like our trio with Shuichi is… different. Like he’s choosing Kokichi over us.” Over me, she does not say. Peko can see it in her watery eyes.
“That, I’ve certainly understood,” Peko laughs. “Sometimes the person you admire can be… short-sighted, maybe. But your admiration is your own, you know. You have to own it, and, if they don’t ultimately feel the same way…” She looks off into the distance. Imagining someone, no doubt.
“... Right. Right, thank you Ms. Pekoyama.”
“Just Peko is fine, Maki.”
“Thank you, Peko.”
“Of course.”
“... But maybe they do feel the same way. You. Never know until you ask, right?”
Peko snaps back to attention. “I… suppose.”
“It’s just a matter of gathering the inner strength to ask, whether you like the answer or not. … I think you should,” Maki shrugs, drying her tears. “And maybe I should too.”
“Perhaps,” says Peko, unshaken as ever, until… she smiles, conspiratorially. “I will if you will.”
“Alright,” laughs Maki. “Deal. But I have someone I have to address first.”
------------------
Meanwhile, Kaito slowly closes the door to the hospital room. The cool air hits him almost immediately upon entering; the air conditioning must be turned up significantly higher than in the rest of the building. It’s a different room, this time; the slightly different decor is disorienting for a moment, while he allows it to be. There’s something far more important than misplaced flowers and chairs and abstract paintings at its center, though.
“Kokichi?”
There’s a disgruntled sigh from the hospital bed, and an equally disgruntled Kokichi hooked up to not-even-a-fourth-of the equipment he was last time, to Kaito’s knowledge, he actually had to stay here.
“‘eah. Yeah, ‘s me.” He even sounds tired, still slurring words together a touch at this point.
Kaito takes his left hand, the dominant side. The uninjured one.
Kokichi can barely curl his fingers around Kaito’s, for now.
“Like the worst case’a TMJ you ever had,” he tries to smile, but finds the effort fruitless to try. Out of everyone, Kaito won’t mind if you don’t pretend for him. He already knows what you are. “‘Cept it’s everywhere. Mostly.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking so much–”
“Tsumiki-chan said, as long as I focus on breathing, I can do what I want. Mostly wanna not-do-things, though. Boring. What’d you do today?”
“You’re asking me?” Kaito laughs, but humors the thought. “Class, mostly. Went out to train with Shuichi, he’s actually coming along pretty well. Still has trouble keeping up with me in the real world, though, lung capacity and all. Been missing Maki, though. She’s really trying her hardest for this class, you know, she’s even talking to that Peko girl right now.”
Kokichi looks away, both eyes now in-sync as he tries to look to the tile floor. “Yeah. She’s still Harukawa, alright.”
Probably not a great time to talk about it, it dawns on Kaito just a little too late.
“What even happened, man, can I ask that? Figure I may as well instead’a dancing around it,” Kaito says, just to banish the thought. To get it out of the way.
Kokichi laughs a little under his breath. It hurts, but there’s a degree to which he can’t help it. “Ask’er yourself.”
Kaito is confused for all of a moment before looking around the–
“Ah! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you! I-I just thought I could answer any q-questions, so Ouma doesn’t have to-o…” Mikan Tsumiki, Ultimate Nervous Wreck, holds her clipboard to her chest.
Kaito is beside himself, unsure of how to get her to calm back down. Kokichi’s hand squeezes his a little tighter. Give her a moment.
“R-Right, sorry, you were wondering about his condition, right? Ouma’s, I mean. T-There’s good news! And. Bad news, which we’ve already talked about before you arrived, or. I did most of the talking because he’s having a hard time at the moment, but you knew that– Bad news we’ve already talked about, and good news.” Mikan looks up at Kaito expectantly, straining a smile.
“... Do you want me to pick one? Because I’m sure whatever the bad news is won’t look so bad compared to the good,” Kaito nods, resolute.
“Oh yeah, s-s. Sorry. Yeah. SO the good news is this is just a flare-up, probably caused by a mix of stress and the heat outside. He’s been doing a lot better in this building since we have a backup generator for our climate control,” she continues. “But the bad news is that if he doesn’t take care of his condition, he could end up in a full-blown crisis, mister,” a darkness casts over her eyes “and if you do you won’t be able to breathe on your own, then it’s back on a ventilator for up to weeks at a time, and I know how much you hate that.” She picks her head up. “But, hopefully it won’t come to that!”
… It’s a lot to take in at once.
“What. Exactly, is his condition? How could he deteriorate so suddenly?” Kaito asks despite Kokichi’s half-hearted protest.
“It wasn’t sudden. I’ve been feeling it all day… it just got too bad to deal with. That’s all.” Mikan looks over to Kokichi before he relents and nods. “Someone else should know.”
“It seems to be an autoimmune disorder caused by the program. Not one that we’ve seen before, but one that’s kind of unique because of how it happened. The device ‘taught’ his immune system to attack danger that wasn’t physically there, so it started attacking what was there instead. It seems to include some of the signals sent between muscle groups to get them to move, leading to muscle weakness that varies in severity. This would be a moderate exacerbation, I think, so it really could be much worse!”
Mikan is still working on her bedside manner. Kokichi huffs a little, amused, while Kaito is still processing.
“Is. Is it ever going to stop?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” Mikan sighs, a little shake of her head. The same thing Kaito had been told about his lungs. “It’s impossible for us to know, but don’t count on it.”
“So… So what can we do? There has to be some kind of training we can do to make it a little less severe, right?” The impossible is always possible, is it not?
“Well. Physical therapy might help as part of the treatment, but it’s most important he’s taking his meds regularly and getting enough sleep,” she says. “But it’s pretty near impossible to enforce.”
Kaito looks over at Kokichi for a moment, then back to Mikan.
“Maybe, on his own. What if he had a roommate? Then we’d share responsibility.”
“You’re kidding me,” Ouma says, doing his best to sit up a little. It’s more effort than it’s worth, but that does not stop him from trying.
“It’s that, or have you check in even more regularly than you already do. Even if I have to fish you out of the dorms,” Mikan shakes her head, tsk-tsk-tsk. “It’s not a bad idea. I’ll take it up with Administration. Unless you’d rather have an aide following you around…?”
“NO. ‘m good. It’s good. Could be way worse…”
“And I’ll see if I can get you an air conditioner in your room? It is very literally medically necessary.”
“Yessss,” Ouma seems happy enough, and settles down. It’s distinctly possible he’s too tired to put up much more protest, and takes the opportunity to start to nod off.
Kaito smiles fondly, and shakes his head.
------------------
Several hours later, Kokichi wakes up to the creaking of his door. He tenses, finding that he can, even if it’d be too much to disengage himself from ensnaring wires and monitors. He doesn’t bother. A moment later, it’s clear enough who it is.
“... Hello, Ouma.”
“Harukawa.”
Kokichi stares upward, idly counting holes in the ceiling tile.
The silence is deafening.
“I’m sorry,” Maki starts, a meandering sentence unto itself that unravels slowly from her tongue.
Too slowly, for Kokichi. “Yeah, alright. For what?”
“Take your pick.” The courage she’s built up is thrown to the wind as she strives to just say it, or at least say something.
“Sure. Forgiven. Whatever. Now, what’s it you want?”
“... That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Ooh, she catches on! Maki Harukawa, how do you do it,” he laughs. It’s a strangled sound.
“Cut it out, Kokichi, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what happened today. I’m sorry about pushing you too far–”
“You didn’t push me too far.” he says, but it sounds… hollow. Sincere, insincere, it doesn’t seem to matter; there’s no substance to it, but it’s also packed with double-triple meanings and spite.
“I’m sorry anyway,” Maki says.
This appears to appease him, if just for a minute.
“I’m sorry about pushing you around, and for blaming you for my own inability to properly focus.” she sighs. “… In my defense, you don’t make it easy, but. That’s not the point. The point is, I should not have done that. I got angry, and when I get angry sometimes I act rashly. So I’m sorry.”
There’s something bigger to that statement, of course. Something he cannot help but respond to with a brutal truth:
“I don’t know if I can forgive you. I want to stop being scared of you, but it’s not. Suddenly okay again.” He turns his head, half-muttering. “I’m not sure I’ll ever really be ‘okay’ again….”
The silence returns.
“... That’s. That’s okay. I mean, if you don’t. You don’t, have to. Respect is earned, and so… so is forgiveness, I think. I hope I can earn that in your eyes.”
“... Alright,” says Kokichi. “Fair enough.”
“See you around,” Maki shrugs, halfway to closing the door.
“And Maki?”
“Yeah?” she pauses.
“Thanks.”
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