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yogen2021-04-02 01:36 am
trialbyliar) wrote in yogen2021-04-02 01:36 am
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.]
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.]
no subject
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... ]
[ 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. ]
no subject
His returned note is pretty quick, at least.]
[It's...technically not a lie.]
no subject
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. ]
[ 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? ]
no subject
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.]
[Sometimes, it's better to just rip the bandaid off. That's what he's telling himself, anyway.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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??
no subject
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.
no subject
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!
no subject
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.
no subject
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
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]