Chapter Text
Each night he is plagued with graphic dreams of what ifs.
What if Gonta had failed him?
What is Miu had killed him?
What if Miu had doomed them all?
He would be forced awake into the awful reality of a greater what if.
What if Maki had killed him?
He’d be lulled back to sleep once Shuichi wraps his nimble around him, beckoning him back to his side and into the land of dreams.
He rarely has dreams of DICE, and he’s glad for it.
He would do anything to erase the disappointment off their masked faces once they know of the atrocities he committed whilst trying to survive this sick game of death. He has his own disgust to bear through.
-
He’s back in the world of reality as Shuichi’s hand wraps around his lanky arm. They were truly the opposite of each other; where one bore the colours of black, the other shined in the colour of white. Where one sought the truth, the other provided lies.
Where one was loved, the other was hated.
It was a vicious cycle, but it was what balanced the game.
There’s no hero without a villain.
That’s what he insists anyway when he’s back into Shuichi’s chest, crying his lungs out once more.
Huh, maybe he should stop doing that.
Doing what? He asks himself. What was he doing?
Ah right. Being pathetic.
But why was it so dull?
Shuichi wonders. What happened to all that energy?
Kokichi’s back to staring into the air and Shuichi feels tempted to sneak out and ask others for help. He knows that he can message Maki for assistance with the boy’s injuries, but he knows Kokichi’s stance on her talent that he doesn’t bother asking for her presence.
Instead, his finger hovers over the portrait of the robot. Perhaps he’ll take Kiibo out on that offer of his.
After all, Kokichi seems to enjoy taunting him enough.
But was that all just an act? Or was that how he truly felt?
How can someone so broken be so complicated?
-=[]=-
Seeking refuge in Kiibo’s company done good for him and Kokichi. The room had been stuffy from each other’s presence that it became unnerving. The change in presence helped the two to cope with the pain in their broken minds.
Kiibo suggested that they take a walk, but once he meets Kokichi’s dead stare, he knew that his idea was silly and quickly excused himself out.
With the two only having each other for company once more, Shuichi thinks that Kiibo’s idea isn’t too preposterous to try out.
Now if only Miu were still here to help with Kokichi’s disability.
-
Turns out the outdoors was something that balanced well with Kokichi. Huh, who knew?
On his back was Kokichi, his only support being the boy whose arms hooked under his legs and held onto the base of his butt. Kokichi was clothed in Shuichi’s loosest clothing. His oversized white shirt draped past his hip and was crumpled into Shuichi’s palm, while his lower section was slipped into loose shorts that ran down past his knee.
Shuichi himself was dressed more casually, forgoing his detective jacket and uniform in favour for a short sleeved shirt that allowed the breeze to make its way onto his arm.
Shuichi had brought his hat along, situating it on Kokichi’s head in hopes of the boy not catching a heat stroke.
“Aw, does Shuichi care about me that much?” Kokichi teases which causes Shuichi’s cheeks to redden slightly. “Well then it’s a good thing that I love you so much Shumai!”
Shuichi merely smiles. Nowadays it’s rare to see Kokichi so lively.
Maybe they should go outdoors more often.
-
They’re seated on the overgrown grass of the abandoned school. Kokichi has Shuichi’s hat atop his head, covering it from the sun’s wrath. Even as the hat covers it, his hair remains resilient and sticks out from under it in purple curls.
“Ah is Shuichi trying to die on me?” Kokichi’s voice is light as a smile curls around his pale lips. “Was this your plan? To catch a heat stroke while you have me framed using your hat?”
“A-ah, no.” He’s tempted to play along, but the truth escapes anyway.
Kokichi tuts him. “You’re an awful liar Shumai! Leave the lying to me!” He grins and in a blink half of his world is covered by the hat’s beak.
“There! Now I can die like I planned!” He laughs and falls back to the grass.
Shuichi frowns, but gives up and joins in the laughter. “Kokichi.”
“Hm?” He hums.
“Don’t die on me.”
Kokichi stares, his eyes curled into its own smiles.
“Please.”
They stare back into the sky, their gazes unwavered as they challenge the mighty sun.
“Anything for my Shumai.”
-=[]=-
They’re back in the hall of the dorms, approaching closer to Shuichi’s room.
“Hey Shumai?” Kokichi calls, and Shuichi wonders where the hell he nicked that name from.
“Yeah?” He hums.
Kokichi rests his head atop Shuichi’s hat. “Can we go to my room for a change?”
Shuichi thinks about it for a moment. “Where’s your key?”
Kokichi smiles slyly, though it goes unnoticed by the boy carrying him. “Inside.”
“How do you plan to get in?” Shuichi deadpans.
“Ha! You underestimate me yet again!” He throws his arms into the air and Shuichi takes several careful steps to balance the two. “Have you already forgotten my super awesome lock picking skills?”
Ah right. This broken boy he’s nursing has quite the variety of skill.
“Oh.” Shuichi pauses. “Do you have your tools?”
Kokichi’s grin widens, and from the depths of his borrowed shorts, he pulls out wires bent to best suit his capability.
“Of course.”
-
Kokichi insists that he let him work on the lock while Shuichi goes back to his room to pack his stuff. Shuichi casts a worried glance at the boy, who waves him of his worries. “It’s not like I’m gonna die!”
He says this as his red book details several murders planned upon himself. Still, Shuichi takes the chance and thinks, this will be a good trust exercise.
But of course, this was Kokichi Ouma. The Highschool Level Asshole and Ultimate Troll.
With his belongings in his hand, Shuichi knocks and the door opens the slightest crack.
“Password?”
Damnit Kokichi.
-
From the floor of his room, Kokichi has fun messing with Shuichi before he decides that Shuichi’s torment has gone on for long enough and allows the door to swing open.
From the door, Shuichi looks down and sees the Supreme Leader on his knees, a content and bright smile settled upon his face. He dumps his stuff in the crack of empty space within the collateral mess of a room, and returns to his ward and proceeds to slip his hands under the boy as support, before gently lying him down on his bed.
He made the mistake of looking up.
-
As Shuichi lays beside Kokichi’s side, Rantarou continues to haunt him with his dead-fish stare. Even in death he’s able to emit that cool aura that charmed Kaede. It’s quite the irony that they died because of the other.
Shuichi sighs and rolls onto his stomach, consciously ignoring the way the wax figure burns holes into his back and instead opts to drape an arm around the other boy.
He’ll have to get used to this.
-=[]=-
He wakes up first the next morning. It’s not really a morning if the sun hasn’t made its appearance. Truth be told, he was haunted by the piled mess of cardboard and paper that suffocated Shuichi with its claustrophobic height.
The cardboard boxes that were stacked tall and probably higher than Kokichi had stood its full height the whole night, its unwavering presence lingering in Shuichi’s mind as he fails to fall asleep.
It was more haunting than the Rantarou figure above him.
He muffles a chuckle and slips out of bed, making sure to keep the boy tucked into the safe confines of the blanket.
He has a case to solve.
-
The whiteboard provides him a great hint and direction as to Kokichi’s stance around the other students. It was unfortunate that his deduction of Kokichi’s hate towards the assassin was proven correct, though he breathed a sigh of relief as he sees himself in his own corner.
Trustworthy?
He’ll work hard to have that question mark erased.
-
Seeing Kaede’s face once again was an unpleasant welcome. His heart dropped as he remembers her stricken face as soon as they had caught the culprit.
Her face had been ugly with raw and unfiltered sadness, tears streaking down every untouched surface of her distraught face.
It was awful to relive.
Her promise. He remembers. Have you honoured it?
He rips his gaze away in favour of the evidence stacked up on Kokichi’s desk.
I’m trying.
-
After sorting through the evidence quickly he lands himself with one last task.
The cardboard boxes.
With a resigned sigh, he pulls one of the wavering boxes off of its height and peaks into its contents.
Paper? No, he inspects closer and notices the childish doodles drawn upon it. He would have immediately discarded the boxes away, but his instincts push him to investigate further.
It’s not like he has anything else to do.
-=[]=-
Paranoia.
It was the one word he could think off the top of his head to describe the mess he had just sorted through.
Amidst all of the childish doodles, plans, blueprints and designs of all kinds lay trapped under the innocent facade. It was a good thing he had followed his detective instincts, or else he wouldn’t have found notes that had eventually formed into the plan formulated in the daunting red book.
He hears the sheets shift as Kokichi squirms himself awake, and so he quickly snatches the keys that sit in the corner of the room, dust layered atop its surface as it had seemingly remained there since its placement. It must have been lonely being in the room by itself, unable to fulfill its job as the door’s key.
He greets Kokichi with a hopeful smile as an idea pops into his head.