yogen | when he sees me [closed]

Entry tags:

when he sees me [closed]

WHO: kokichi & shuichi
WHEN: sometime during spring break
WHAT: tfw you run into someone you absolutely were not prepared to ever see again

[Upon first coming to – becoming aware of it, anyway, not whatever kind of autopilot was responsible for the vague memories he's got of existing in this place – the first thing Kokichi had done was check his locker. Said memories told him he had one and exactly where it was, after all. He needed to see what he was working with here.

(That's a lie, though. It wasn't the first thing he did. But rushing to some random supply closet to have a teeny breakdown over being alive and whatever the fuck is going on here totally doesn't count.)

Anyway. He didn't exactly have much on him last he remembered – not even a shirt, honestly, but he was choosing not to think too much about the details of those last moments – but there were still some things missing. His lockpicks, notably. And unfortunately, they weren't in the locker either. What was in there was mostly unfamiliar, in that strangely familiar way everything here was. Clothes, a blank notebook that looked used but empty, some sticker sheets. Things to puzzle over in hope of finding some clues, but little that was immediately helpful.

He ditched the stupid uniform tie. The casual clothes in the locker had included a checkered scarf, and tossing that on over the uniform had made him feel at least a bit more put together. Less overwhelmed by that bizarre awareness of having some kind of life here, some whole other identity that he can't quite remember but feels real and also not at the same time. He's had more than his fair share of that shit already, thanks.

(He's also choosing not to think too hard about how he's clinging to the markers of an identity that might be just as bullshit. He can self-reflect later.)

Since then, Kokichi's just been exploring and trying to get a grip on whatever is going on here. There's no robot bear popping up this time to explain the situation. Not yet, anyway. So he's left to his own devices, searching every nook and cranny for some hint of what was behind this and what its purpose is.

He doesn't entirely avoid the others. Of course he's noticed there are others here, strangers that all seem just as perplexed as him, but he's hardly about to trust them just because of that. The last weird school he woke up in hammed that lesson in hard. So he works alone, doing the bulk of his investigating after dark when most everyone else is camping out in classrooms and whatnot. The silence is eerie, and he hates not being able to tell if someone (or something) is approaching, but he needs this privacy. He needs to control how others see him if he's going to survive this. He doesn't intend on dying again – it sure didn't seem to stop whatever was toying with his life last time.

It's already fallen silent for the night. Heading up the stairwell, his feet don't even make a sound hitting the steps. But at least that means no one else can hear him coming either.]

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[ In all honesty, every step in this place still feels shaky. It's been a while, at least two days, since the vertigo-like memory of watching the death of his best friend and then before he knew it, waking up here. And then waking up here again, and again, and again which had almost made him nauseous as it looped, the sicker to his stomach the harder he tried to discern which of his memories came from where. At least at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, things had happened in sequence -- or there had been clear discernment between the memories they were recalling, and the present reality they were living.

Here, he's not so certain.

Damn it, he can't even tell if the two are connected by this point. There's no evidence to the contrary, but there isn't really proof to support it either. No matter how much he's looked around the school, he hasn't found anything to ascertain one or the other. He'd come this far, and he'd finally thought he could trust his skills, and now-- ]

...?

[ Whatever direction his thoughts were taking, it's halted abruptly as someone's silhouette seems to appear downstairs, no warning beforehand thanks to the strange phenomenon that's seemed to occur every time after midnight so far. He's gotten more used to it since the first time, and he's had time to explore it a little both here and in the library, so it doesn't startle him as much as it could have. Still, he has to ascertain who it is with the only senses he has left at the moment, and so of course his eyes fly to-- ]

O-Ouma-kun...!?

[ Everything is dark and silent, and he doesn't even have any certainty. And yet, the strangled word makes it out of his throat, for his own imagined perception only at least, before he can even process other things. Such as... why would Ouma of all people even be here? And didn't he...?

And it instantly feels different -- comes with a degree of reflex that none of the memories from this place ever had, a certainty and solidity he's been looking for, maybe. His body almost moves without him, fingers gripping the banister of the stairway so hard that his knuckles turn white, before he stumbles backwards a few steps. He needs space to process this. How... is Ouma here!? Is he even here?

Shuichi doesn't believe in ghosts, but this has to be the closest he's ever gotten to changing his mind. ]

[The stairwell is probably not the best place at this time. Sight lines are funky, and with the strange silence there's no way to tell when someone else is around until you're already just a flight of stairs away from them. Which is to say, Kokichi doesn't notice his company until movement at the top of the stairs above him catches his attention, and he immediately pauses.

Looking up, though, he's not prepared to actually recognize the figure standing there. Someone familiar in a real way, not that vague sense of familiarity with all those random classmates. He knows that face all too well.

And despite the silence, he can still recognize the shape of his own name of Shuichi's lips. Obvious recognition, clear shock.

Shit.

Whatever thoughtful expression Kokichi had been wearing is immediately erased, his face going entirely, carefully blank. Hell if he knows what kind of face he should be making in this situation. It's all he can manage in this moment to the eliminate any unintentional hints to what he's thinking.

There's a long pause. Silent, of course – they didn't really have an option there.

And then Kokichi turns and runs back down the way he'd come, a pale ghost quickly disappearing down into the dark.

Shit.

It's completely irrational. He's been wracking his brain trying to understand what connection there might be between this place and the killing game, and he's running from the first thing he's seen that solidly links the two. He should be harassing Shuichi for information, interrogating him for any slip-up that might reveal involvement in either, or both. If it were anyone else, maybe he would be.

But he can't deal with this right now. Not Shuichi. Not the person who actually stands a chance of seeing through him when he's as off his game as he is right now. And given how things left off between them, he can't even predict how that interaction would go right now.

And maybe, well...he doesn't want to deal with the most likely possibilities right now. Anger? Apathy? The chance that Shuichi could be involved with any of what's happened? Kokichi's danced such a narrow line with his feelings regarding the detective – equal parts wariness of someone clever enough to watch out for, and wanting to trust him. He can't even process any of it right now.

So, yeah. Booking it. Bye bitch.]

[ He's only frozen for a second, or two at most while a million more thoughts cross his head.

Wait!

He doesn't shout after Ouma, of course; it would be pointless in the silence of the night and once he's gotten his bearings, Saihara isn't really the type to give in to irrational impulses. Instead, he peels himself from his spot with as much in the way of urgency as he can, almost stumbling down the stairs in his rush. There's only one clear thought at the forefront of his mind in the end: if he's going to ask any questions at all, first he has to catch up. Anything else can come after.

But... once he's in the hallway, he's not so sure anymore.

It's the 3rd floor of the school, the one with his homeroom since he'd been coming down from exploring above, and was thinking of finding his usual spot to try and sleep in for the night. Not that he particularly wants to, but... he doesn't have a choice. He won't get anywhere if he passes out from lack of rest. Once there, he slows down a little, peering carefully into the darkness ahead that's only broken up here and there by slivers of natural moonlight or something else from outside. The rest of the actual lights have gone out of course, since it's past midnight.

But he's pretty certain Ouma didn't go any further downstairs, so he has to be on this floor.

Think. If he were Ouma in this situation... where would he try to hide? Saihara steps forward slowly, keeping his eyes trained both left and right as he does. Alright... first off, he'd keep closer to the wall opposite of the windows, right? That's the darkest portion, so it's where he's less likely to be spotted.

Landing a hand on that wall, he follows it carefully along to make sure no one slips past him that way.

Damn it. Why is Ouma's reflex to always run from things he doesn't like? Sure, he's never run from Saihara before since the tense situations he's comparing to had all been with Momota or Harukawa, but... Now that he's finally the one trying to search for him, it sure is inconvenient how good he is at this. And yet, for all he wishes he could just find him...

That's so consistent with Ouma's character that, in this place, it ends up feeling almost comforting again. He wonders if what he's doing seems the same. It must be pretty clear, from his calculated moves, that he's not the type to go running in blind like Momota or others might have. He's thinking this through. Is Ouma maybe watching that from somewhere...? ]

[He hates this silence more and more. He can't even tell if Shuichi is chasing him without looking back to see, and he doesn't wanna slow down to do so.

He can guess, though. And he can't imagine Shuichi giving up on a mystery. Either that's been sincere all along, or it's been an incredibly dedicated act, and even if it's the latter Kokichi doesn't think it'd be dropped now. Worst case scenario, he's running like an idiot for no reason, and that's better than the alternative. He's trying to convince himself of that.

(What sucks the most is that he would have loved it back at the Ultimate Academy. Before he torched all his bridges, of course. He'd have...well, not killed for it, but he might have gone to some inconsequential extremes to bait Shuichi into playing hide and seek with him.)

Kokichi doesn't linger in the hall. It's too open, too exposed even with the cover of darkness. He moves quick and ducks into the bathroom – the classrooms are too likely to have people inside at this hour. In a better situation, he could hide in a stall and listen for footsteps and doors opening, but as things are, he needs to be able to keep watch...

There's probably not much time to be picky, if Shuichi's close behind. He settles for pressing himself against the wall beside the doorway on the hinge side, where he'd be hidden by the door itself if it opened. It gave him the best access to the door if needed, too – he could always slip right back out if needed.]

[ This is... actually really difficult. Just like everything about Ouma had been, and proven itself right until the end he supposes. He knows he only really has one chance at this; if he guesses it wrong, it's likely he won't get a second and the other will slip from the situation and vanish for... who knows how long.

At first, he glances behind him and considers the clock tower. The reason he figures Ouma didn't go any further down the stairs is because Saihara would have seen him, and he ran the risk of being caught before he could vanish. Since he'd looked to put himself out of sight first and foremost... that's a valid option. But there's no entrance here -- the 3rd floor is right between the two that have them, so he can count that out. The classrooms...? No, a lot of people have been using those as safe places to sleep, just like him. There's no way Ouma wouldn't know.

He actually doesn't consider the bathroom, almost until he's all the way there, his hand brushing past the edge of the door as he's almost run the course of the entire wall. But it's really the last option left, and... he can't think of as strong of an argument against it as the other two, aside from maybe that it's really closed off. Would Ouma really back himself into a tiny space like that...? If he had a better option, probably not.

But he doesn't.

Still, Saihara can't really risk it either. After mulling it over for a while, handle almost half-pressed, he gives up in the middle and it returns to its original position. The door doesn't open after all. Instead, he fiddles for a few moments with a strip of paper and a pen he pulls from his uniform pocket, both items he's appropriated from some desks and has been carrying around to take notes in the absence of photo evidence. In the dim light from the screen of his PDA, he manages to scribble something quickly, keeping an eye over his shoulder the whole time. There's still a chance he's wrong about this, after all.

When he's done, he folds the paper once for better traction, and then crouches to slide it under the door. It kind of jams at first, so it's difficult, but he manages to slip it halfway through -- just enough to make sure it would be seen. But not the whole way, since he does need to be able to see if someone's actually on the other side to take it. If it vanishes, he'll know.

The note itself doesn't say much; it's short and to the point: ]

We do need to talk about this sooner or later. You know that, right?

[...Fuck. Shuichi is smart. An idiot about certain things, maybe, but still smart, enough that Kokichi is actually surprised sometimes. That's why the detective was his favorite, after all. Even now, he's a little torn between frustration at being figured out and appreciation for a clever plan.

He can't even grab it without it being noticed. It didn't escape his notice that the paper is only halfway under the door, and he's willing to be Shuichi is either waiting to see if it disappears or is going to check back very soon.

The silence at least lets him huff an irritated breath without being heard. He drops his head back against the wall and takes a moment to go over everything – he doubts Shuichi is immediately dangerous, even if he's somehow responsible for any of this. Someone intent on causing harm doesn't corner their prey in an unlocked room and then leave them be. He tries to think of it from Shuichi's perspective. If he's no different from any of the other people trapped here, then he just saw someone that should be dead. It'd make sense to follow. And if Shuichi knew what was going on...well, he'd probably be acting like he didn't. That line of thought doesn't help much.

But him being the only other one of their class here is so obviously suspicious. Surely the mastermind of this school or the previous one or both wouldn't risk that.

But it is suspicious, and Kokichi can't just ignore the possibility.

But despite everything, he'd still thought Shuichi was probably the least likely to be behind everything back in the killing game. Aside from Gonta, at least. It wasn't a certainty, not enough for him to rely on – and definitely not when Shuichi rejected his one attempt to team up – but just making a judgement based on character and actions...

God, he's getting nowhere with this.

Kokichi sighs and drops into a crouch, peering at the folded paper. It's been a minute or so of him just thinking too hard, but he waits an extra three minutes. Just on the off chance that Shuichi might give up if he's watching it. Eventually the curiosity is too overpowering, though, and he snatches it up.

Kokichi half expects the door to swing open the moment he does so, but he isn't immediately jumped, and so after a breath he opens it. He eyes the words with furrowed brow, unsure whether that sways his suspicion meter in either direction.

After a few moments, he digs one of the sticker sheets from his locker out if his pocket. Thinks for a second or two. Then peels one off – a red smiley face that smells like blood – and sticks in on the note, which he slides back halfway under the door. Two can play this game, motherfucker.]

Edited 2021-04-03 13:24 (UTC)

[ Is Ouma... testing him? Or did he simply get it wrong after all? Maybe he overthought this and the other isn't even in there. He might have gone into one of the classrooms in the end; the argument Saihara used to eliminate them as an option is starting to feel less and less likely by the minute, when he remembers the silence that has them in this situation in the first place. Even if someone was in the rooms, they would have only noticed Ouma if they were still awake.

Although it's true that there's no way to tell in advance from outside...

It's by the time he starts moving, having half-given up on the paper with his message, that it finally disappears. One moment he's glancing over his shoulder at one of the other doors down the hall, and the next he's turning and it's gone. With a start, he finds himself almost holding his breath while he waits to see what happens. Although mostly... he'd just expected Ouma to walk out.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

Unlike Ouma, Saihara picks up the note right away. It's not like he doesn't notice it's stuck halfway in return, but... he's not the one who's trying to hide in the first place. For a moment, he considers if he's allowed to go in now without risking whatever escape plan the other might have (because he knows Ouma has something, he always does). But then... looking down at the paper stops him. What in the world is that sticker? He doesn't miss the faint scent of iron that clings to it, very similar to the water from the buckets when he'd first woken up. Why does Ouma have something like this? And what is he even trying to say?

It's no use. That sort of tells him enough; he's going to need the other to walk out of there on his own if they're gonna get anywhere. There are a lot of things he could be saying here, but... he quickly writes back, continuing the game of tag: ]

That's really just like you.

[Kokichi isn't surprised this time to see a returned note. Shuichi doesn't give up that easily. And reading it, he's just the slightest bit torn. It's not that the note inspires a comforting feeling – it leaves an uneasy twist in his stomach, honestly, thinking he might be so readable – but it's...warming, maybe. Like maybe he'd like it in a better situation, Shuichi trying so hard to understand him and succeeding a bit. Just a little.

Right now, though? He mostly just wants Shuichi to go away. Just...to give him time to think. It's not like Shuichi's gonna disappear if they don't talk right now, anyway. He's presumably trapped here just like everyone else. And if he did somehow disappear, well...that'd be evidence of something being up.

It's that kind of thing that he desperately wants time to process. He needs to decide how he's gonna handle all of this. He needs a game plan.

None of that deals with the actual problem in front of him, though. The note remains, and Kokichi frowns at it before begrudgingly digging out the pen he keeps with his own notebook and shoving a message back under the door.]

I'm not in here

[Childish? Yes. And obviously a lie. But Shuichi should expect both of those things from him by now.]

[ He's not in there...? Ouma, please, what does that even mean?

You're being difficult.

That's his first impulse for a reply, but he holds it in check if only for the sake of actually getting somewhere. The paper only has a limited amount of space for a few more messages anyway, and he doesn't want to use a second one if it isn't necessary... or to really be standing here all night passing notes. A heavy sigh of resignation is lost to the dead, utter silence of the night, only felt as a warm puff of air past his lips.

One of them has to do something, and if Ouma won't... ]

Then you shouldn't mind if I go in.

[ If frustration can be read from simple, to-the-point writing in any capacity, he's pretty sure it's somewhere in there. One more reply. That's all Ouma's getting if he doesn't provide him an actual reason to wait. ]

[Ugh. Of course Shuichi won't just take a fucking hint. Well, Kokichi can take some mild comfort from the thought that if anyone walks by, they're gonna see Shuichi just sitting in front of the bathroom shoving paper under the door like a weirdo.

His returned note is pretty quick, at least.]

You probably shouldn't!! There's a ghost in here!

[It's...technically not a lie.]

[ ...He's not gonna miss that.

It actually takes a while for the next note to be slipped through, to the point Ouma might even start thinking that maybe Saihara gave up and left. And part of it... alright, maybe he's trying on purpose to show that he's taking it seriously too, but he also just doesn't know what to say. When it does go through the door in the end, the message it reads is pretty simple. ]

Yeah... I saw it.

[ Is it really the kind of topic either of them wants to be discussing on a tiny sliver of dusty paper that's been scraping across the floor back and forth? ]

[It's not a subject he wants to be discussing ever. What can he even say on the matter? He has no idea how he's alive. He doesn't even know what happened with everyone else after the press.

He did at least wriggle one piece of information out of this encounter: Shuichi didn't seem at all confused or surprised about the ghost joke, so he must have figured out that it was him who died.

Well. "Died". Clearly, it didn't stick.

There's no indication in Shuichi's simple reply to suggest he's going to leave Kokichi alone. He guesses he can even understand it – if their situations were reversed, he sure as hell wouldn't be going anywhere. He wouldn't even be respecting the closed door. But...ugh. He hates this. Shuichi could get tired of this game at any moment and just barge in, and Kokichi has no idea what kind of face he should be wearing.

That final pause is the longest yet. Is he writing a fucking novel? Or did he just fall asleep or something? Just when it's beginning to look like there won't be any response at all, the door abruptly swings open, Kokichi standing there with an unreadable expression, his PDA held out to display a message.]

Boo

[Sometimes, it's better to just rip the bandaid off. That's what he's telling himself, anyway.]

[ One more reason to be actually thankful this entire weird school goes silent at night for no explainable cause, which is otherwise creepy but also: the yelp he just let out, ungracefully stumbling backwards a step or two from the opening door. It's less the surprise, and not the message obviously, and more that the sudden light from the PDA screen in his face almost blinds him. Of course it had to be something dramatic and troublesome, leave it to Ouma to make an entrance -- or well, an exit -- like this.

Damn it. He rubs at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, a few spots already dancing on the inside of his lids.

For a second after, he hesitates, simply peering from behind the cover of his hand at the figure before him, in the bathroom door-frame. It's not the sudden brightness anymore, nor is it wariness; it's... something else. This is really... the same Ouma Kokichi that he knows. Or perhaps, saying he knows him is a stretch -- it always has been, Saihara's now aware he didn't understand him right until the end. But... it's the one he remembers, at least. Really remembers, unlike any of the people in this school.

Almost involuntarily, his actions soften, and it's too late to regret it or change it once they already have. He lowers his hand to find his own PDA, and then types into a box in response: ]

My homeroom is on this floor. There's usually no one in there.

[ And even if there was, it would be a ten-year-old who: 1. most likely doesn't pose any threat even if she sees them; and 2. is probably exhausted by this hour anyway and wouldn't wake from just two teenage boys fiddling around with their electronic devices in utter silence. He turns the screen for Ouma to read, without actually sending the message anywhere of course. ]

[Briefly, the corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh at Shuichi's reaction. Maybe tease him for actually being afraid of the spooky ghost. The mood isn't quite right for it, though, and it feels a little pointless when no one would hear him anyway.

God, are they really going to do this right now? Is this PDA flashing really any better than shoving notes under a door?

He considers taking a moment for mischief – what if he just hit the "send" button on Shuichi's PDA and then gave him shit for inviting someone to a secluded location in such a public forum? That'd be fun. Is something wrong with him, that he's smothering the urge for levity? Or is this really just that serious of a situation?

Kokichi sighs heavily, theatrically, and even if it's silent his body language can still communicate his annoyance. But he gestures anyway, like lead the way. Just get this over with already.]

[ Why is he feeling as if he can't lose Ouma from his sight? It's difficult to explain or to justify... even to himself. No matter how much he might excuse it as making certain he won't run, in the end that's not quite it. It's a far less rational need, just something that feels more born out of some odd desperation, coupled with the subconscious knowledge he has nothing better right now. Something that the relief he feels when they seem to agree doesn't let him forget.

But... the other feels different too, just a little; Saihara can kind of tell as he studies his profile when they start walking, for the briefest of seconds. He'd never thought he'd associate quiet with Ouma of all things, but right now it almost seems to suit him.

...And that's it. That's the reason he can't convince himself, because he already knows that there'll be no more running. Not right now. He can pretend to still doubt it all he likes, but the truth is he barely makes any effort to keep close watch. If he's looking for any reason, it's more that he just... wants a read.

They make it to the classroom door, and he lets Ouma in first before following him, with a quick visual scan for any changes since he hasn't been in. There really isn't much, though; the same coat from his spare school uniform is laid out on one of the desks where he'd left it, looking a little crumpled from being used as a pillow. For a minute, he almost forgets about the issue preventing it, and he turns to tell Ouma they can sit by the window where there's a little more light but... well.

With a sigh, he just heads over there himself while he types on his PDA. ]

Ouma-kun... I need you to be honest about one thing. Did you know I was here before tonight?

[ It might be in equal parts testing for reasons to keep his guard up, as it is a genuine question. ]

[Again, he'd have enjoyed this before, back at the Ultimate Academy. Hadn't he always wanted Shuichi's eyes to be on him? But right now, he feels too raw, and the stare he can feel even without looking is tangible in the most unpleasant way, like fingers trailing across an open wound.

Kokichi flops into a seat as Shuichi shows him a message, and he can't help the dry laugh that escapes him and is immediately eaten by the silence. Rolling his eyes, he quickly types a response on his own PDA.]

do you even know who you're talking to??
you're practically tempting me to lie

[The temptation is there, but it also feels too reactionary. Doing his Usual Thing just because someone told him not to? He's not the kind of people who does things because of the influence of others, no matter what form that influence takes. So he huffs a breath and rapidly adds to the text before flashing it back at Shuichi.]

but that'd be too predictable
anyway no

[ It does feel a little guilty. He's never paid this much attention to Ouma -- or well, he did when they were alone of course, when it was normal to focus on only him. In general though, there had always been other people around him; first Akamatsu, and then after he lost her, he'd had Momota and Harukawa to pull him up when he stumbled. And it's not like he ignored him either... but in the end, it does always keep coming back to that, doesn't it? To when it's just the two of them.

It was always kind of an afterthought, which only momentarily broke itself through to the forefront whenever Ouma did something to make him look.

What he's doing right now... might be a little hypocritical. ]

That's what I thought.

[ He types the simple stuff first while he settles in the next seat over, across the desk. But just like Ouma, he also has more to add. ]

Because... that's probably why you ran.

[ Ouma didn't expect to see him here.

Of course, that alone doesn't say anything about whether the other has any involvement in what's happening; maybe he was behind everything after all, and simply moved on to his next game somehow. Maybe Saihara's just here by some kind of careless mistake. But at the very least... he's pretty sure of this one thing. It's the only deduction that makes sense, and so he studies Ouma carefully while he shows it. ]

[There is the slightest bit of a reaction to that – annoyance, a hint of a scowl that he's quick to smother and cover back up with that unreadable expression. Don't fucking analyze him, asshole.

Whatever. He wants to immediately change topics. His face is blank as he types, which seems a little at odds with the content of it, but...well, it's weird. He doesn't know what kind of expression he should be using, and his go-to reactions are so dependent on histrionics that just don't translate well to sitting and typing. Like how no one's ever actually laughing out loud when they type "lol".]

maybe this is hell!
but that'd mean that saihara-chan died too somehow
but you'd have to have done something pretty terrible to get sent to the same place as me
is that it? have you been fooling everyone with the good guy act all along??

[ He's just... gonna take a moment and close his eyes after reading that because really? Leave it to Ouma to still be acting like this even in a situation like what they have on their hands. Can't he just ask for clues like a normal person? Not that it matters anyway, because whatever he's fishing for... it's not as if Saihara has it, either.

A little quicker about it than before in his frustration, he types out his reply. ]

I wasn't *trying* to fool anyone into anything. Some people just have friends, Ouma-kun.

[ Though it doesn't last long. Mostly because... he has something else he needs to say, and he can't really do it like this. After averting his gaze for a second, his shoulders finally slump with a measure of distant exhaustion that might not even be grounded in the present, and he offers the rest far more plainly. ]

And... the only person who died after that was Momota-kun.

[It's a mild relief to have Shuichi look away, even just briefly. Kokichi can feel like he's on the offensive again, eyeing the other boy and trying to gauge sincerity, read every hint that he can in that body language. He doesn't even flinch at Kaito's name, his face hard and impenetrable.

He should feel guiltier about that. He does, but the logical part of him says that Kaito was gonna die with or without his interference, and that Kaito could have just not helped if he didn't want to do it. If Kokichi had done nothing, then Kaito still would have died and Maki probably would have too. She sure as hell didn't deserve that save from him, but she got it regardless. So it's not quite guilt. More...disappointment. That it came to that at all. That it didn't even seem to have worked anyway. Surely if it had then Shuichi would have said something already.

He takes a thoughtful few moments to type up an answer.]

that's super weird then huh?
because i *definitely* remember dying! it hurt like hell!!
no way someone interrupted that
so if this isn't some kinda afterlife then what is it

[He hates not knowing things. And the only thing worse than that is being the only one that doesn't know something. The look he shoots Shuichi across the desk takes on a sharp edge, somehow almost accusatory even if his expression hasn't change.

A beat, and he quickly adds a few more lines to the message before turning the PDA back to Shuichi, his eyebrows raising just the slightest bit in an almost challenging manner.]

and why is saihara-chan the only one here?
is this the part where you kill me again so i don't blow your mastermind cover??
the creepy silence and empty classrom is a pretty good setup for it!
at least make it quick
you've gotta beat the hydraulic press' time!

[ There it is.

It's not as if guilt was his goal to begin with. He's not telling Ouma that the guy he partnered up with for that last effort is dead for some pointless reason like making him feel it's his fault. If anything -- it's not. If he'd succeeded, there might have been a chance that the rest of them survived, and the one who'd ruined that by uncovering the truth in the first place... was him. The same as always, it was Saihara who went and brought it to the surface. He'd tried to take it back, he'd tried to understand, but in the end it was too little too late and Momota himself didn't let him. How is he supposed to explain all of that in a written message?

That's why he's looking away. It's not because he has anything to hide... damn it, it just hurts to think of.

Why is he the only one here? ]

I could ask you the same thing.
It's not like we ever got to actually see your body, thanks to the power cord you cut.

[ The story had only painted itself from the person who'd been revealed as alive after all, from his words, from Ouma's own script -- and from Saihara's deductions that had ruined their whole plan. And although at the time it had seemed pretty certain they were right... The truth right now, in the end, is that Ouma Kokichi is here. With him. In another situation like this.

...

........ ]

If we just start accusing each other here... we won't be getting anywhere.

[There's a slight break in that hard mask, a little huff of breath that'd either amused or annoyed. He rolls his eyes, but whatever, Shuichi's not even looking at him anyway.]

whaaat??
i could *never* throw such awful accusations at my beloved saiharachan!!!

[You literally just...

Whatever.

It's a fair point. Neither of them are going to get anywhere like this. It's why the killing game was supposed to end with two people, right? You can't hold a trial with only two people. Even if either of them had actual evidence of anything, what are they gonna accomplish confronting each other about it? He could drag this out, point out that he didn't cut the power cable, that there should have been a video of the exact moment of his death if Kaito hadn't fucked it up, but...

His face sets again, and Kokichi types up a new message.]

so what DO you want then
since mr detective was so determined to talk to me

[ He has to look back at some point though, at least if he wants to keep reading the screen. And the question that waits for him on the glowing white of the text box just gives him pause. Ouma's same old antics aside...

He hasn't thought that far. And it's not like the other doesn't know it, most likely... Damn it, he's not about to take criticism from the guy who just bolted downstairs as soon as he saw him. ]

I don't know, Ouma-kun.
Maybe I just wanted to know you were real.

[ What even is real anymore?

Lost to the oppressive silence, a sigh of exhaustion escapes through Saihara's lips and he sets his PDA aside in his lap for a minute, to rub with weak-feeling fingers at the tired corners of his eyes. He's been waking up so many times in this place (though it seems to have stopped since "graduation") and yet not even once has it felt like he's really slept. Even after everything started to seem chronological again, a desk or the floor of a classroom can't be exactly described as ideal.

It's been taking a toll on him. ]

But now that you are... it might have been easier if you weren't.
It's making me overthink.

[ And that's the same for both of them, he knows. ]

[Kokichi's eyes narrow at the message displayed on the PDA before flicking back up to Shuichi. Who just looks...tired. There's a flicker of sympathy in him, but it immediately clashes against the instinct for caution – could that be an act? What would the point of all this be if it was? What option makes most sense right now, what does the meager evidence he has support?

It's making him tired just thinking about it. He can't really blame Shuichi for feeling that same way, if they are somehow in the same boat.

(But it wouldn't be the same boat, would it? After all, Shuichi didn't die.)

Kokichi frowns just slightly before flattening out his expression again, but as he types it's maybe a tad more aggressive than necessary. Maybe he's lashing out a bit. But hey, Shuichi's right. This is harder for both of them.]

i'm real!
unfortunately for you
i bet you were super happy once you realized i was dead
sorry i ruined your night by being alive!

[They's a thin, wry twist to his lips as he slides the PDA over again, humorless despite the resemblance it bears to a smirk.]

[ He knows it -- before he even makes contact with the words at all, if only from Ouma's expression alone, he can tell he won't like if he reads it. And something grips him, twisting in his stomach akin to nausea as he does so regardless, because the truth stays the truth just like always, no matter how much you avoid it. Before he knows it, his fingers are twisting around Ouma's wrist through his sleeve, separating his hand from the PDA that was offered and tugging it upwards -- and if it happens to be the left one where the tally marks are, then well...

Somewhere in the back of his head, even Saihara feels surprised at the level of cold-hearted logic he's showing, but... He might as well test it, if he's doing this anyway. Those marks are still painful around the edges, right? He's noticed it with a couple of others beside himself, so... how about Ouma's wrist? ]

...

[ But it's also no lie that the impulse itself was just that, no matter what else he had the clarity to do with it. His lips move for a second in the semi-darkness, like he might have had something he'd say out of anger, if only he wasn't... the scarily collected type, even now, who recalls a mere moment later it's useless. So instead, he shakes his head after a second with a gaze that almost burns into the other's face, uncharacteristically direct.

The next moment, the grip he has loosens and he draws back so he can type. ]

Were *you* happy when any of the others died?

[ Maybe there's nothing he can do at this point that will prove no ill will, and maybe he doesn't... even know it himself, in the first place. What his level of personal investment in Ouma's fate was can be debated, but... people dying isn't a matter of only how you felt about them, is it? It's more serious than that. ]

[There's a flinch, just briefly – he's no different than anyone else here, tally marks and all. Shuichi's fingers press a little too close to the tender scratches, but it's less the pain and more the touch that has Kokichi wincing away. And then less the touch and more the stare, intense and searching.

A part of him thrills at it, stupidly. Shuichi is only looking at him in this moment. But the sane part of him stomps that part back into a dark corner where it can be ignored. The sane part wants to hide away from that gaze, more capable of actually picking him apart than anyone else. The flinch is quickly controlled and banished, replaced with that completely blank, unreadable expression he sometimes wears. The one he uses when he doesn't know what kind of face to make, but something impenetrable is preferable to something honest.

It's like the harder Shuichi tries to understand, the closer he comes to doing so, the more Kokichi retreats from it. Shuichi reaches out, but Kokichi still won't take his hand.

Well. Shuichi sorta skipped the need for reciprocation here anyway, huh?

His hand twitches, like he's deciding whether or not to pull free of Shuichi's grip, but then it loosens anyway. Shuichi moves to type, and it's a brief reprieve from that touch and that stare. Good. Kokichi needed the chance to put himself together anyway. He reads the resulting message dispassionately, deciding how he wants to play this. Would douvling down even work? If Kaito gave everything away, can he actually expect Shuichi to believe the whole ruthlessly evil schtick?

Hand freed, he picks his PDA back up to respond.]

would that really surprise you?
coming from *me*??

[It's a non-answer, admittedly. He's stalling, digging for clues about how he should handle this and what Shuichi thinks. Shuichi seemed...angry, almost. But can he trust that reaction? Did he draw something real out of the detective? Or can a person really be this good an actor – no, improviser? The latter is hard to believe, but the former feels foolishly optimistic.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

when he sees me [closed]

not me writing this half-asleep bc i love u that much

drops a goddamn novel at your feet in appreciation

thank you it's my new favorite book

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