Chapter Text
He stabbed at his cereal with the spoon over and over. It’s the middle of the week now, and school life stagnated, which could be worse he supposed. Miu complained about helping around school. Shuichi occasionally glanced toward him with this strange regard as if a wall further separated them from ever talking like normal people (not that Kokichi was exactly worthy of his acknowledgement anyways).
Even freaking Korekiyo, the school outcast, avoided him like the plague. He hadn’t seen the boy since their encounter in the computer lab on Monday. Kokichi reached a new social low.
Not to mention Kirumi got called into work that night and missed the dinner she promised. Then she missed it Tuesday with promises of having it Wednesday.
He stabbed at his cereal again.
This cereal sucked.
“So do you want to talk about who signed your cast?”
Kokichi scooped up as many Cheerios he could fit on his spoon, stuffing his face to the point that milk dribbled down his chin. Kirumi sighed while she dabbed at his face with a napkin.
“You can’t avoid me forever,” scolded Kirumi, slightly puffing her face. She tossed the napkin into the trash can with perfect accuracy, which should be near impossible considering she threw it over her shoulder. Kirumi returned to reading the newspaper as if that didn’t just happen.
“Damn, Kirumi. You scary,” he tried to say, but it came out more like, “Dah, Rumi. You ary.”
“Language,” she corrected him as if she knew the truth.
Kokichi swallowed the crappy cereal. It tasted so boring. “Dang, Kirumi. You scary.”
“You must stop talking with your mouth full at my table… wait.” She deadpanned as she turned the page in the paper, “you’re trying to distract me from the question again. It’s been two days, Kokichi. You can tell me, you know.”
“Got a hundred dollars?” He tapped his spoon on the side of his cereal bowl. “Your love can’t buy the truth, but some green paper sure can.”
“Kiyo, Kiyo, Kiyo…” she mumbled over and over, glancing between his cast and the newspaper. Suddenly, she gasped, “the Kiyo on your cast isn’t a boy named Korekiyo, is it?”
The fear in her voice made his lie easy. He took a deep breath to choke his nerves.
“Nope. Two separate people. I don’t really know Korekiyo.”
The tension left her body, and Kokichi relaxed as well. The tiny lie felt a bit dirty, but her reaction cleaned the slate. He thought back to Shuichi lying to the teacher. How the teacher mellowed out when he believed the words that flowed from Shuichi so easily. How would the teacher react if he knew the truth or if Shuichi told a lie so poorly, the real answer became obvious?
The small smile on Kirumi’s face confirmed his suspicion. A kind lie to protect or make someone feel better wasn’t so bad.
“Okay…” Kirumi ruffled his hair, and Kokichi swatted at her with his spoon, flinging milk everywhere. Despite her words, she laughed. “Stop! You’re making a mess.”
“Oh?” Kokichi scooped up some Cheerios. He leaned on his elbow, taking aim at the woman. “War stops for no one!”
“Don’t you—“
Kokichi released.
She grounded him for the rest of the day, but it’s worth it.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
The lack of sunlight in his choir class drained his energy in a different way. Normally, he’d be nervous from any gazes, but that day everyone stared at the floor. Kokichi felt out of the loop, which he supposed was the downside of not having any social media other than secret fanboy Twitter accounts for different fandoms he enjoyed (what’s the point of a real account when his only friends would be Kirumi and maybe, just maybe Miu?). He thrived off of their energy regardless of his nerves, and something killed their vibe.
He tried to listen into the whispers around him, but the only clue he picked up was from some rather loud sopranos.
“—hara probably won’t be at school today. Apparently today’s the—“
“But he was at school the last two days? Does he not care that a family member died?”
“Whatever. That whole family is weird. I thought Shuichi seemed sweet enough, but—“
Kokichi stopped listening after that. They’re talking about Shuichi, and it drove him crazy to hear them talk so negatively about the brightest person in the room. Especially if it’s true about a death in the family.
Rumors were just badly told lies, so he didn’t have to believe anything out of their mouths. The truth should be sought through investigation.
He searched the sea of singers, coming up empty handed. So Shuichi really wasn’t at school. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. Hopefully Shuichi’s okay. Should he text him? Wait, he didn’t have his number. Maybe someone in the choir did? No… Shuichi only hung around… Kokichi frowned. He couldn’t think of anyone in particular that Shuichi spent time with other than Korekiyo, and his cousin would miss school for a funeral, too.
That only left one solution: Miu. That weirdo on the yearbook club had everyone’s phone numbers.
Kokichi hid his phone behind his cast and typed away.
Kokichi:
>I need a favor
Family Friend*:
>you already suck up 89% of my school life, cockslut. what more do you need?!
Kokichi:
>Saihara’s number plox
Family Friend*:
>...
>so you heard?
Kokichi:
>No, I saw it
>...
>Yes I heard. Number plox or I’ll tell Kirumi you ditched me at school
Family Friend*:
>i f-ing knew you’d pull that shit eventually
>i’ll forward his contact but you didn’t get it from me
>but kokichi… you’re probably the last person he wants to hear from right now
Kokichi didn’t respond. If Miu wanted to shoot down his attempt to reach out, be a friend, she had to try harder than that. Maybe he should be nervous, but since he’s hiding behind a phone screen, his anxiety dissolved into resolve. It’s so much easier when those perfectly amber (were they amber? Kokichi needs to look harder next time—ah, next time?!—he gets close enough to Shuichi to soak in those eyes) didn’t stare him down.
Ping!
Shuichi’s number. Right there. In front of his face. This became real. His hands shook, but he had to do this. This was his chance to talk to Shuichi outside of school. He could finally—
How selfish and messed up did that sound? Using a death in the family as an excuse to reach out to his crush? Sounded fucked up when said like that.
...okay, new intentions. He genuinely felt bad that Shuichi lost a family member, so that balanced out, right? He could offer to make a lasagna or something. He just had to learn how to cook lasagna.
All of this sounded so freaking stupid.
Breathe. You can do this.
Inhaling slowly through his nose, Kokichi decided it’s now or never. He copied and pasted the number in a new text. His thumbs hovered over the letters as his brain formulated a message. Should he start with a sympathetic comment or about the lasagna? Which would be less awkward?
“Mr. Ouma.”
The sympathetic comment for sure. That’s the way to go.
“Kokichi Ouma.”
Eh, delete the part about the lasagna. He already heard Kirumi chirping in his ear about burning the apartment down with his experimental cooking. Cereal bested him a few times, so he didn’t want to imagine lasagna.
“Is Kokichi Ouma in this class?”
One of the baritones shoved him from behind, and Kokichi scrambled to catch his phone as he fell forward. It slid across the floor until it stopped at the feet of the one and only Kaito Momota. Kokichi landed on his palms, a shockwave shooting up his arms to his shoulders.
“Hey! You coulda just said yeah, dude!” Kaito kneeled down and offered a hand. “Hey, man. You good?”
“Fine,” muttered Kokichi, standing on his own. He squeezed his hands behind his back. Feeling came back when he dug his nails into his palms. “Feel good actually.”
“...okay.” Kaito picked up the phone as he stood again. “You dropped this.”
“Nope. No phones in class.”
“The text literally has your name in it.”
Kokichi snatched the phone. “Guess some weirdo wanted to impersonate me. I’ll keep this now as revenge!”
Before shoving it in his pocket, he read the sent text message.
Kokichi:
>Hey, Shuichi! It’s Kokichi Ouma. Just thought I’d ask you
Damn. Sent before he could finish. Whatever. Since it’s unfinished, he’s bound to answer, right? He’ll wonder what Kokichi was wanting to ask. A guaranteed answer for sure.
…
Lame, lame, lame, lame—
“Anyways,” Kaito’s voice brought him back to the present. He clapped Kokichi’s shoulder, practically knocking him back to the ground again, as he continued, “you’re wanted in the office. Someone’s here to see ya.”
“Me?” Kokichi dumbly pointed to his chest.
“Unless there’s another Kokichi Ouma.”
Eyes from all directions turned to him like a spotlight. Heat struck his backside, and the figurative sun burned everything in its wake. Kokichi didn’t dare look over his shoulder at their judgmental gazes.
He swallowed and kept his head down as he followed Kaito. Never had he been called to the office before. This was a first. Last he checked, the office didn’t even know his name! Multiple times they forgot to put him in classes! Now he’s been summoned?!
“Damn. So Ouma did it, huh?”
“He was with him before all that, after all.”
Kokichi glanced back at the baritone section. At his glare, two of them sank in their seats but continued to whisper in stereotypical hands-over-ear poses. Any sense of fight dissipated, no urge to ask what they’re talking about. Same shit they did at the sight of Kaito the other day.
“Hey, eyes over here.”
The gossipers froze, staring beyond Kokichi. Kaito stood behind him, arms on his hip like a sassy teenage girl. He leaned on the balls of his feet, chin almost brushing Kokichi’s hair.
“Unless you wanna head that same way for bullying, I think y’all better shut your traps!” Kaito grabs the underside of Kokichi’s arm and leads him to the door. “No tolerance school! Remember that!”
They walked away from a silent room. The moment the door shut, Kokichi jerked his arm away from Kaito. He smoothed out his shirt and shorts, refusing to make eye contact with the class President. Kokichi couldn’t recall the last time anger bubbled in his stomach like this, and frankly, did it matter?
“Thanks a lot!” Kokichi shoved Kaito with his shoulder as he hobbled by, which equaled out to a kitten clawing a tiger. “Give them more to gossip about, right?”
“I— what? ” Kaito took one step and matched Kokichi’s pace. “I helped ya back there! I don’t need a thank you or anything, but you’re damn ungrateful, huh?”
“What’s there to thank?!” Kokichi resisted yanking his hair at the roots. “ Three years . Three years I go unnoticed, and this is how people start looking at me?!”
The hell was with this temper tantrum? Kokichi rubbed his thumb across his fingers. So what if he’s anxious? Doesn’t give him an excuse to take it out on Kaito. His therapist pushed for him to take his anxiety out in songs, not people.
Ew, he’s listening to his therapist?
A positive spin on this sat around the corner. All he had to do was flip the switch.
Kokichi blinked as the bubbling ceased. “At least they’re looking. I’m not boring anymore.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing, lug nut!” Not sure where the insult came from, but it felt nice to let it out for once instead of holding thoughts in his head. “I can escort myself to the office.”
Kaito trailed a hand across the lockers as they passed. “And I’m there to make sure you don’t run when you get there.”
“Kokichi Ouma, track star! You sure nailed me, Kaito.”
“Not my instructions! I’m just doing my job.” His eyebrows knitted together. “I always thought you were a quiet softie, but shit. Guess this is what happens when you push everyone away, huh?”
Who the hell did Kaito think he was? Kaito strolled in and chose to call Kokichi out on shit, huh? Kokichi opened his mouth a couple of times, but the bubbles had long since popped, there’s nothing really fueling this argument other than Kokichi felt like being a sarcastic asshole to someone . Did it make it okay because it’s Kaito , the homophobe?
Thought you didn’t believe the rumors, Kokichi Ouma.
“Whatever.” Kaito opened the office door with one hand and scratched at his nape with the other. “Sorry, man. I’m on edge, too. That was uncool of me. I’m supposed to be helping people, not tearin’ ‘em down. If you ever need to talk…”
“I won’t.” Kokichi stopped in front of him but refused eye contact. “Thanks though.”
“Mhmm.” Kaito smiled softly and shut the door behind him. “I’ll go back to class instead of waitin’. Consider it your free pass.”
“Don’t give me free passes, space cadet!”
“‘Kay, clown.”
Kaito waved through the door window before walking away. Kokichi gave a small wave back.
The office never intimidated him. Old ladies gossiped behind desks as if no one could hear them. Kids sat in chairs either waiting to go home or for the principal to call them back into his room. Kokichi found a chair next to a girl with short red hair. She shuffled cards, not even looking toward him.
“What are ya in for?” Kokichi broke the ice.
...only for her to keep shuffling. Kokichi opened his mouth to ask again, but she kept her eyes trained on the cards. Boring. At least, that’s what he thought until she released a shaky breath.
Ah.
“Kokichi Ouma?” One of the ladies called out. Kokichi stayed put in hopes that maybe she saw through him like everyone else. “Oh, I know who you are. Your momma cleans my house sometimes.”
Kokichi winced. “Kirumi doesn’t do maid work anymore.”
“Hm? She started that up again a month ago. Said she needed the extra money.” The lady eyed the other students. “Sorry. Guess it’s not my place to say anything.”
Was that why Kirumi missed their dinner plans? Kokichi squeezed and released the bottom of his shirt over and over again. Were they hard out for money? He should’ve noticed sooner. It made sense. With his broken leg, money came and went much quicker than before he fell. Kokichi tap, tap, tapped his nail against his cast.
“Well, sweetie,” said the woman, bringing him back to the present, “you don’t have to wait like the others. Your matter is urgent.”
His heart dropped to his gut, and his stomach went to work digesting it already, churning and gurgling. “Is Kirumi okay?!”
“She’s fine, sweetie. You’re fine. Just… don’t be afraid to reach out if it’s too much, okay?”
...the hell did that mean?
Whatever. Kirumi’s fine, and he knew he didn’t do shit. So it couldn’t be too bad, right? Kokichi nodded and walked back to the principal’s office. He watched a movie once where inmates walked a green path to their deaths, and they called it the green mile. Well, his path wasn’t green but a bright, ugly pink because someone thought hot pink would make a great school color, so now their floors came out checkered in black, white, and hot pink.
The principal, Dr. Kirigiri, sat behind his desk as always, chatting away with people in the room. Normally, the man smiled like his job depended on it (sometimes it probably did), but this time? A frown tugged at his lips. At this angle, Kokichi caught bags hanging heavily from under his eyes. The whites of his eyes stained red from tears. Light reflected against the tracks of his tears, and whatever happened in that room, Kokichi wanted no part of it.
Kokichi took one, two, three steps back. Dr. Kirigiri continued talking with three others in the office. One, a woman with full, long blonde locks that appeared soft to the touch even from where he stood. Her hair stayed clipped back with music clips. She wiped at her eyes with a tissue and leaned into a man with a striped shirt. He had messy, green hair, which Kokichi couldn’t tell if it’s a stylistic choice or if he simply forgot to fix it when he woke up this morning. He wrapped his arms around the woman, kissing her temple. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, his eyes shined as white as someone with a full night’s rest.
After the fourth step, Kokichi caught the black hat. Based on body frames, this person was younger. Much younger. Maybe Kokichi’s age? He wore all black with white pinstripes. Huh. Dressed for a funeral, he morbidly joked in his mind.
Wait.
Two people cried. The woman needed consoling. The boy dressed in all black.
Despite the hat pulled down over his face, the two made eye contact, and Kokichi froze under the stare of amber eyes.
Shuichi Saihara.
Kokichi stepped forward four times and opened the door.
“M-Mr. Ouma.” Dr. Kirigiri sat up straighter. “Glad you could join us. Sit by Mr. Saihara?”
Kokichi followed instructions. Shuichi sat by the only open seat anyway. Kokichi tap, tap, tapped his cast with his finger soft enough that only Shuichi side eyed him. At this proximity, Kokichi spotted Shuichi’s tears drying on his cheeks.
His heart dropped deeper into his stomach. Shuichi’s supposed to be at a funeral. A funeral . Korekiyo… Korekiyo’s not here… Korekiyo—
“Korekiyo committed suicide three days ago.”
The room grew smaller, and the words echoed in every direction. All eyes but Shuichi’s stared at him with the intensity of the sun. Sweat rolled down his back. His cheeks. Wait, that’s not sweat.
Kokichi clinched his chest. “I’m—I’m sorry. What?”
“We found him in his room. He—He—“ the woman sobbed until words stopped coming out her mouth. Her husband rocked her.
“No. No?” Kokichi’s lungs burned with each breath. “No. I talked to him on Monday. He was here. On Monday, he—“
“And by Tuesday, he was gone.” Shuichi tightened his fists. “He’s dead , Kokichi.”
“You—You came to school!” Kokichi denied. He pushed back against the chair, putting as much distance between him and everyone else as possible.
“By recommendation.” If possible, Shuichi sounded smaller than he made himself look with such a withdrawn posture. “I didn’t want to.”
“We… didn’t want anyone to know yet.” The man finally spoke. He still rocked his wife. “Not until we told everyone in the family.”
A tear rolled down Shuichi’s cheek. He wiped it then pulled his hat brim down more. “Everyone knows now. So.”
“I’m—I’m so sorry…” Words failed him. He had no clue what to say to Korekiyo’s parents… to his cousin. To anyone . “He—He—“
“We found a song in his pocket,” the husband held out a piece of paper. “We think he—he might have written a suicide song?”
Shit. Fuck. Dammit. No no no no—
“It’s—“ the wife took a deep breath. “—it’s addressed to you.”
Yeah, Kokichi saw it from his seat despite the distance. If he could move, the paper would be ripped to shreds at this point.
Kokichi shook his head. His tongue ran dry, but he forced himself to speak. “I—I don’t know what that is.”
“Please… if you know anything—“ her eyes widened when she took Kokichi in from head to toe. Her eyes froze on his cast. “Your cast! It says—K-Kiyo! My baby signed your cast!”
“So you did know him?” The husband held the song out to Kokichi again. “Please. Come to dinner. We want to hear about you two. Anything. Even if it’s… we don’t care how small. We need to know he wasn’t alone.”
Shuichi lifted his head. “ What? I’ve never seen Kiyo talk to him once!”
“Y-Yeah!” Kokichi pointed to Shuichi. “He’s ri—“
“Kokichi, that song is titled to you . Why would he write his suicide song to you if you didn’t know each other?” Dr. Kirigiri chimed in, which thanks for the help, doc. “This tragedy might have some light if you could fill them in.”
“I don’t—I wro—“ Then his words swallowed in his throat. Lie. If the truth came out, Dr. Kirigiri would tell Kirumi, and holy shit, that’s a lot more therapy in his future. Not to mention the light reappearing in Korekiyo’s parents’ eyes. There’s no right answer, and before he thought too hard, he said, “I need some time. I’m sorry.”
Kokichi hobbled out of the principal’s office before anyone could stop him.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Shhhhh!” Kokichi almost covered her mouth. “Kids are around!”
Maki pinched her nose as she motioned toward the playground. “They’re all playing. I can say whatever I damn please, and you are a fucking idiot.”
Kokichi kept his eyes trained on the playground. Maki may be right, but he couldn’t risk this job. Kirumi already picked up her maid work again. Kokichi only worked a three hour shift for five hours a day, which in retrospect brought in little cash, but all money mattered. Like hell he’d let always-angry-Maki be the reason he lost his job.
“I know! What was I supposed to do?!” Kokichi dropped to a whisper. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Turn down dinner?”
“Uh, yeah?” If possible, Maki frowned more. “You lied . Do you want to die? Because that’s a great way to die.”
“I didn’t know how to react! They were saying all these things, and I don’t know. I didn’t want them to feel more despair.”
“So you lied because of their feelings or because you liked the attention?”
“Holy shoot, Maki. And here I wondered why on earth Kaito won the election over you.” Kokichi rolled his eyes. “Let me throw my Team Maki flag away.”
“Well which is it?” Maki perked an eyebrow, unfazed by his dodge attempts. “Your feelings or theirs?”
“Theirs! You should’ve seen the hope in their eyes… like—like I had answers to offer them!” Kokichi tap, tap, tapped on his cast. “My anxiety spiked, and I just—I lied , okay? I messed up, and I… I can fix it.”
“You’re going to dinner, and you’ll tell them the truth.” Maki waved a hand for him to agree.
Ping!
Shuichi :)
> Come to dinner. We need to talk.
“I’m going to dinner, and I’ll tell them the truth,” Kokichi parroted, lowering his phone. “I promise.”
“Mhmm. You better. Tell me about it tomorrow?”
One thing most people didn’t know about Maki: despite her tough exterior, her interior was soft and caring. They hadn’t worked together long, but Kokichi felt closer to her than freaking Miu, who he’s known for most of their lives. Maki never intimidated him, but others gave her a wide berth in the halls.
“Ms. Maki!”
A child, who at most had to be four, held his hand out to Maki. A jagged cut reached from his middle finger up to his inner elbow. Maki sighed and squeezed his fingers.
“Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks.” She smiled . “Look how tough you are! You’re not even crying!”
The boy smiled back at her. Tears shone in the sunlight, but he held them back. “You said… no crying over little things!”
“This isn’t little,” she told him, “but I’m proud of you for handling it like a big kid. It’s okay to cry if it hurts.”
When the kid cried, Maki wiped his tears.
Yeah. A lot of people viewed Maki wrong.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
Kokichi wanted to leave. He sat across from Shuichi at the biggest , wooden , most rustic dining room table he'd ever seen. Four bodies sat in the ten chairs, and knowing that a fifth should be filled churned his stomach. Kokichi wanted to tap, tap, tap his cast, but considering he had a fork and knife in his hand, that could cause a scene.
The steak remained uncut.
The crystal chandelier above him reflected the bright light of the room. The pictures on the walls reflected as well, but Kokichi observed despite it. Four pictures stuck out to him the most for two reasons:
First, Shuichi was only in the last one. His aunt and uncle hugged him, and Shuichi smiled softly. It had to be recent because Shuichi wore their high school logo, and he only started school there at the beginning of junior year, moving in with his extended family at the end of summer. His amber eyes glimmered in sunlight, and damn, Kokichi wished he witnessed that.
Second, the other three pictures included Kiyo at various ages, and looking at them for more than two seconds felt like someone carved chunks of Kokichi’s heart out bit by bit. Korekiyo wasn’t his friend, but Kokichi still felt empty at the thought of someone he talked to a few days ago—someone he didn’t have the chance to work things out with—no longer breathed. In a blink, Korekiyo disappeared.
Something haunting about not knowing why or how, and Kokichi didn’t have the balls to ask.
Also, a girl that stood a couple inches taller than Korekiyo sat by him in all three pictures, and Kokichi hated that she appeared unfamiliar to him. For some reason, he knew he should know her.
Shuichi stared at his steak, leaving it be as well. He changed out of his black outfit from before into a gray shirt and pants, but he left the cap over his eyes. His aunt and uncle struck him as parents that normally wouldn’t allow hats at the table, but neither pointed it out to him. Shuichi refused to be seen, but he’s all Kokichi could see.
“So when did you and Kiyo become friends?”
On Monday. If you could even call that a friendship.
Shuichi lifted his chin enough for Kokichi to see amber. Instead of the questioning gaze from before, the smallest tint of hope lit up his eyes. Like maybe, just maybe, his angry cousin had a friend in this world. Like his aunt said before, Kiyo died with a friend in his heart. Someone he cared enough to write a suicide song to, a song Kokichi could replay over and over in his head.
His stomach churned two percent less.
“Right before summer,” said Kokichi.
What. The. Fuck . Kokichi opened his mouth to fix that lie, but he bit his tongue when Shuichi tipped his hat up to view Kokichi better. His stare wasn’t like the rest. Shuichi felt like a warm blanket from the dryer, inviting and homely. Clouded with confusion in the moment, but he didn’t burn like the sun. Shuichi was different .
“What? When was that?” Despite the disbelief in his tone, Shuichi’s eyes lit up more.
“Wait… Kiyo did slip out a lot over summer!” The woman smiled. She dropped her fork and knife. Not like she had eaten anything anyways.
“Um, Mrs.—“
“Kaede. No need for formalities.”
A snowball formed in his chest. A chill passed through him as it rolled down the hills of his insides, ever growing larger as it tracked more and more snow. Kokichi sat on his hands to save them from constant shivers.
“Okay, Kaede…”
Just tell them the truth. Don’t dig a hole. The voice in his head flipped a switch. If you tell them the truth, it’ll kill the light in their eyes and that’ll be your fault. You made them feel worse, and you have to tell them about your song.
“I volunteered at a nature reserve over the summer. Sometimes, he’d come with me.”
The snowball rolled faster. Kokichi’s so fucked up for this, but what else could he do? He didn’t have a right answer.
“Kiyo?” Shuichi perked an eyebrow. “ Nature ?”
“He used to love picking apples before the accident, Rantaro! Remember!” Kaede tapped his shoulder. “The three of us and your sister’s family would go all the time when the kids were younger!”
Shuichi flinched at that. “I… I do remember that actually. We’d go in the spring.”
“Yes! Our daughter would lift you up, and—“ Tears sprang to Kaede’s eyes once more. Shuichi pulled his hat back down. Rantaro wrapped an arm around his wife. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up old memories like that. Go on, Kokichi.”
Daughter? His eyes flew to the pictures on the wall.
Oh.
Kokichi dug his nails into the backside of his leg. Tragedy surrounded this family, and a chance to relieve pain presented itself. Kirumi hated his lies, but were lies bad if they helped?
A deep breath. The snowball slowed to a stop. It didn’t shrink, but it stopped!
“Sometimes when he came with me, we’d stop for ice cream beforehand.” Kokichi released a hand and traced a picture on the dinner table as if he drew a map. “At… uh—“
“À La Mode?” Rantaro finished for him.
“Yeah!” Kokichi circled the invisible place on the table. “Only sometimes though. I had to be in the mood because I’m lactose intolerant.”
“We used to take you kids there all the time after picking apples.” Kaede stared up and to the right, recalling old memories of her children. “Your mom would meet us there, Shu. She’d always ask them for extra—“
“Sprinkles and fudge.” Shuichi almost smiled. “She loved her sprinkles, but she always shared it with me. I wanted as much fudge as they’d let me have.”
“Would Kiyo get birthday cake with gummy worms?” Kaede laughed softly. “That used to be his favorite.”
“He loved the blue and red ones,” added Kokichi, taking a shot in the dark.
“Yes! He would say the others didn’t match up.”
Kokichi let out the breath he held, tension leaving his body. This family began to smile and engage him on the story. See, Kirumi? Lies could be good.
“Well, let me tell you about the best day of my life.” Kokichi offered a sad smile. “End of May or early June the weather was perfect. Like, totally warm with a cool breeze. The two of us walked through the woods together, checking up on nature and what not. It’s one of the first couple of times we hung out. Third time, I think? So he was super chatty, believe it or not!”
“He used to talk all the time until last summer.” Rantaro leaned forward on the table. Resting his chin on his palm, he sighed. “I… I’m so glad to hear he opened up to someone.”
“Y-Yeah! He talked about everything. He quoted songs we both liked. We talked about girls—“
“ Girls? ” Shuichi perked an eyebrow. “He has never mentioned any sort of attraction before.”
“You weren’t close like we were!” When Shuichi flinched, Kokichi stammered, “s-sorry. I didn’t mean to come out that harsh—“
“No, y-you’re right. He hated me.”
Kaede gasped. “He didn’t hate you!”
“...okay.” Shuichi motioned to Kokichi. “Just… keep going.”
Kokichi didn’t miss a beat. “We talked about things we wanted to do after school. I mentioned biking the Appalachian Trail. He wanted to write a book. I believe it. The amount of knowledge in that brain. Wow.”
“He wanted to go into the humanities course for college,” agreed Rantaro. “He wanted to study all sorts of cultures. Travel. God, he should’ve been able to go with friends.”
Kaede squeezed his hand. “He had a friend. Do you hear what’s in front of you?”
Kokichi smiled for real this time. “Yeah! He was my friend. He… he wasn’t alone. He made sure I wasn’t either.”
“What do you mean?” Kaede held tight to Rantaro. “He helped you?”
“That same day, we found a super tall tree. Like, the redwoods would be jealous!” Kokichi reached up to dramatize this story. “He dared me to climb up the tree, and I’m not one to turn down a dare. I climbed up, up, up until I’m at the tippy top. All I could see was sky. Every direction. Like it went on for forever .
“I looked down to call him up there with me because he had to see it! When I did it, guess the tree didn’t like me goofing around because the branch under me broke.”
“Oh my god!” Kaede covered her mouth.
Shuichi locked eyes with him. “Is that… is that how you broke your leg?”
“...yeah.” Kokichi swallowed back a hiccup. He held strong eye contact despite it. “I landed foot first, and it broke multiple bones in my leg. I was so disoriented, I swear it felt like I was alone for ten minutes! When my brain finally unscrambled and the pain hit, he reached out to me. He… he went for help, couldn’t find any quickly, so he came to get me. He picked me up, and he piggybacked me all the way back to the ranger’s station. I swear, he was stronger than he looked! I was okay because of Kiyo . I would’ve been stuck out there alone with no safe way to get back without him.”
When he finally tore his eyes away from the warmness Shuichi provided, he locked onto Kaede, who was a blubbering mess. She reached across the table and snatched Kokichi’s hand. Squeezing, she smiled through the tears.
“Thank you. Thank you for sharing that with us. It means everything to us to know he had a friend.”
Kokichi oddly became aware of the snowball in his chest again, but he ignored it for now.
“Y-Yeah.” Kokichi nodded. “I’m thankful to have had a friend like him.”
“Kiyo was rather secretive, but you would’ve thought we heard of you before now…” Rantaro’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sorry. Why did he hide you from us?”
No lie came fast enough that made sense, so he pulled his only “I don’t know” card out. If he wanted it pan out, he had to make it convincing. Kokichi squeezed Kaede back. “I don’t know. After that, I think he felt guilty because he dared me to climb the tree? I sent an email to his school email because he stopped answering my texts, and he replied saying he was sorry but wasn’t ready to see me again… however, sometimes he’d email me his problems, and I’d…” here’s your chance to explain the song! “I’d turn it into a song? He seemed to like that. It became a comfort for him. So that kinda became our thing. He’d email me about something, and I’d write a song. When school started back up, I tried to talk to him in person, and—“
“He freaked out.” Shuichi tipped his hat up enough to see his blank expression. “He—I saw him storm out of the computer lab, and I know you were in there. We talked before he came.”
“R-Right…” Kokichi’s nose twisted. “I… I hate that that’s the last time I saw him. I’d give anything to fix that moment.”
Now that wasn’t a lie. He meant that wholeheartedly. He may have spun a web of lies, but that’s the truth. He would try to fix that whole damn day if he could. He’d hold onto that life buoy for all it’s worth.
“Please don’t blame yourself. None of us knew everything that was going on in his head. I hate feeling like we could’ve done more, but how could we have known?” Kaede wiped at her eyes with her napkin. “Never blame yourself, sweetie. I know he had to be thankful for you. You sound like an amazing friend, and he was amazing to you. That… gives me so much closure, but can I ask for something?”
“Anything.” Kokichi nodded.
“Could I see these emails and songs? I think that would give all three of us complete closure.”
Kokichi blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Can you retrieve copies of those emails?”
…
Rantaro perked an eyebrow.
…
Shuichi pulled his hat back down over his eyes.
…
With a big ole smile plastered on his face, Kokichi said in the cheeriest voice he could muster, “absolutely!”
Fuck.