yogen | npc contact.2

[ Oh? It takes her a moment, but with the expectant look from Komaeda, Haruka brings her hands together and beams up at him. She doesn't really get it, but, ]

Thank you, Okane Aiko-san!

[ The mention of art, though, she cranes her neck up towards the ceiling instead of at the windows. ]

I want to see...

[ The painting. ]

( how cute... he smiles softly, that's what he wants to see. he only knows a bit about aiko, and it's very little that doesn't mean anything. he doesn't know what she's like aside from what other's have said, but maybe one day he can directly have a conversation with her, and tell her how fruitful her death had been.

...

besides, even a smile child can beam from it. )

...I wonder if it's still there.

( if it was the wisteria, she could have walked over by now, but since she didn't... he's guessing the painting. he'll push himself up to his feet, grabbing the book, and the jar of nails. as for the hacking gun, he leans forward to pick it up before flashing the light at her once more to keep her in view. )

If I turn this off... just stay behind me, or walk by my side, okay?

[ She looks up at him when he stands, wondering if he was going to leave, but that smile comes right back when he says to stay with him. ]

Mmhm!

[ That she can do. Even with the light off, he'll be able to feel the ice cold touch of a little ghost girl holding onto the pinky of his organic hand. ]

( he'll mess with the buttons on the gun until the light steadily flickers off, he can see her every little shine until she's gone. visually, it's just him and no one else, and he clips the machine to the back of his pants so that it's hidden underneath his jacket. that way he doesn't have to hold too much, and no one will stare and try to make idle chit-chat. he's not too keen on talking to people if they don't have his attention in the first place.

with his pinky held onto is what he's guessing considering it didn't feel this cold moments ago, he'll look down where he believes her to be. )

Let's go see what Okane-san left for us.

( he takes slow steps knowing small legs don't move as fast as adults, but maybe that doesn't count for ghosts? he accounts for it anyway, though. he'll walk her along to the stairs so that they can walk down to the fourth floor of amami's greatest moment, but he looks around, eyes glancing towards the elevator. )

We can use the elevator, ( he lifts his other hand, pointing at it with a soft whirr of his arm ) it'd be faster.

( he might kick a few rocks along the way, none of these gorintos matter. )

[ The rocks scatter across the floor. Maybe one of them cracks when it hits the wall.

But oh, it's the elevator... Komaeda can feel the outside of his leg grow cold. There never used to be an elevator in Haruka's time, and she's never too sure about it. What if she lets go and instead of riding the elevator down she phases through the ceiling? Scary. ]

Hm...

( from his pinky to his leg, hiding from the elevator... is enough to raise a few red flags, and he directs his pointer finger towards the stairs. )

Or we can take the stairs, I normally forget the elevator exists...

( sometimes you're a dying man and you take the steps, but he reaches his hand out to try and pat her head even though he can't see her. he's trying. )

Stairs fine?

[ The warmth returns to his leg— or more like the cold moves away, eager to use the stairs because that's what she's most familiar with. Komaeda's hand feels like he'd stuck it in ice cold water up to the wrists, cold enough to feel like burning, before that too moves away.

Just a pinky now, waiting for him to lead the way. ]

( the deathly cold sensation that comes from a ghost is in no comparison to the cold that komaeda emits when people touch him — his is enough to stave off the heat, actual cool down someone who's hot, but this feels like his circulation has completely snapped.

what little blood flow he has does return as she moves around, and komaeda wait for her to choose a spot. it's when she finally decides on his pinky that he moves towards the steps, slow and steady until he starts to walk down one, then two, until it's three. they match the rotation of walking down them, and he pushes open the doors (he leaves it open for more than he should so he can make sure she walks through properly) to meet with the next floor which is luckily the exact area that they need. )

We made it, are you okay?

[ Oh, that's nice. It always is, when people treat her like any normal little girl instead of a ghost who could just phase through the door and he needn't bother.

There's a brief cold spot on his elbow, which ??? presumably means she's okay, though it doesn't feel like she's let go of his pinky either. ]

( as long as his circulation is fine, he'll do fine, which means he'll start walking towards the club side of the hall so they both reach the art room. he reaches out with his mechanical arm, turning the knob so that the door opens, and haruka can go inside. )

Ladies first.

( he keeps the door wide open with his hand, and he's waiting for the indicating of her pinky no longer chilled to the bone, and a few minutes after to see if she walked in yet. so yes, he's just standing there to keep it from closing, not even thinking about if someone may already be inside. it's their art room now. )

[ How students in the art club get wary when the door opens and it's Komaeda. He's talking to himself today. Insane. Clinically insane.

The cold does leave his pinky, though, when Haruka lets go and wanders the room, careful not to touch anything or mess anything up, but she does make some of the papers flutter despite the windows being closed, to let Komaeda know she's still in the room. ]

( are there students in here, that's so insane, now they going to think the papers floating around is because of his bad luck. he'll follow them for a bit until he turns to a student — don't care who it is, but he's going to start with them. )

Okane Aiko-san's painting... do you still have it?

( he looks at their paint close to him, almost like he's thinking about smacking it on the floor because after seeing papers flutter, he wants to join in too... his chaos hand twitches. )

We want to see it.

( "we..." )

[ It's a school day, there's students. And there's cold that presses against Komaeda's leg in agreement. Yeah! We want to see it.

Despite how he asks, it's a reasonable enough request and the sooner they meet it the sooner he'll be gone, so one of the members leaves their work to open a back closet and take out Aiko's painting, paint matte with dust untouched all these months. ]

Here it is...

( he walks slow, guiding her along towards the dusty painting — despite keeping it, they didn't manage it very well. he reaches out, smacking away some of the dust so that haruka can get a better look. ...it's not as komaeda remembered, but that's because his memory fades, and the beginning of the year is slowly lost upon him — he remembers bits and pieces, but he knows the warm feeling in his chest when he did it all for hope. )

...Do you like it?

( he can't remember if it was finished or unfinished, but since she got up in a hurry, there's probably things she still wanted to do — who knows. )

[ It's still a work in progress— will forever be a work in progress— of the wisteria in the night, canvas washed with a thin layer of Phthalocyanine Blue. The background is dark, with the black skeleton of the school building behind it, making it seem as if it had burned down from the inside, leaving only the frame. There are no stars in the sky. The wisteria is dotted dark blue, never to glow. A shadow of something lurks behind the trunk of the tree, but it will remain a shadow, never given form.

There is no answer from the ghost, not in terms of a voice, anyways. But he can see the dust clear away from the wisteria tree, those spots of dark blue, like someone's trying to rub the paint away so the white of the canvas can break through. ]

( he can't fill in the blanks perfectly, but he wonders if the shadow was meant to be the gardener, and if the black skeleton should be the void — but that's not right, if it was the void... the tree shouldn't have leaves, right? or that's how he knows it from his experience. he doesn't say that aloud though, instead he can't ruin haruka's immersion into the painting that she sees — and maybe touching it weights more than just looking? feel how many strokes went into one area than another, and things like that. )

...Do you want it?

( the painting, because if she wants it, komaeda feels very inclined to take it for her. there must be a reason for the way she handles it, right? )

[ The rubbing stops, and the canvas leans a little towards Komaeda: it's a no. It's not exactly a "you have it instead," because it's not hers to give away, but...

Incomplete or not, it's still a beautiful piece. And for it to gather dust in the back of a closet for the next however many centuries, that'd be too sad. ]

( it'll regain dust is how he sees it, if it stays here with no one to look after it. that's why he didn't mind changing its location, maybe a piece they can put in the library since those were her very last moments alive. )

Are you sure?

( he doesn't feel bad for aiko at all, but if Haruka enjoys the piece... then it's a different story. )

[ The canvas leans forward until it's resting against Komaeda with nothing holding it up, so that he has no other choice but to pick it up or have it fall on the ground. She's sure he can find a place something like this will brighten up the room, where it can be hung and appreciated by many different people. ]

( he's grabbing it now, holding it up as he looks down at it. an action is difficult to parse, he thinks, his fingers curling tighter as he lifts it up into his grasp.

he reads it as if she doesn't want it here anymore, but he could also leave the room with it. he doesn't care for aiko that much, and so her things are meaningless to him, too.

...

the painting is only a thought because he remembered it as a... final item left behind for them to look at. )

Hm...

( he looks back to see if any of the students are watching. does anybody care if he just holds this? so that haruka can pass him another hint. )

[ There are, but nobody makes a move or says anything to stop him, whether it's because they just want Komaeda out as soon as possible, or because Aiko was not a student who universally made friends enough for anybody else to hold her work in sentimental value. The one person might have been Chiaki, as a fellow artist, but she's not here.

The hem of his shirt tugs forward. He's spared icy hands, but he has to be led around like this instead. ]

( she's not here or will ever remember, so there's that. he holds onto it, watching as his shirt is tugged by nothing, but he knows that she's there. also, wish someone looked or said something at komaeda so he could glare at them because he doesn't care. mind your business talentless scums.

he's going to follow after haruka, but he's going to turn towards the exit of the room rather than finding where to set it up here considering they'll just put it back once he leaves. or maybe he should break one of their arms if they try any funny business. )

We can take it to the library.

( said aloud, his words said towards the ground of where he's looking, yes students, please think komaeda's insane. )

[ They already do.

That insistent tug urges Komaeda forward down the hall, down the stairs, makes a left instead of a right at the ground floor and then disappears altogether, leaving him in front of the door to the courtyard. ]

( he follows accordingly, all the way down these twists and turns until they're at the door, with the painting still in his grasp, he'll reach out with his organic hand — pushing the door open so that she can walk out first if she's still next to him, and then he'll follow right after. )

...

( he looks around, then down to his side. )

Why here?

[ Because... because...

Because why? There's no answer, no indication that she's nearby. No cold touch, no tugging fabric. ]

npc contact.2

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