Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Your perception of a particular situation is overly optimistic and unrealistic. You do not have a good sense of yourself and what you are and are not capable of. You may have become egotistical and out of touch with whom you really are. You may not be being truthful to yourself and to others, instead trying to talk yourself up when you know you cannot deliver.”

-

The thing, Momota thinks, is that he should have insisted on going back into that weird world in the TV with Akamatsu and Shuuichi the second time. Shuuichi had fretted and fiddled with his hat like he always did and said that as a detective, he needed go back in to investigate, and since Akamatsu had earned that weird power, she could protect him if anything happened.

Momota mostly thought Shuuichi wanted to spend time alone with the pretty transfer student he had fallen in love with the second she had saved him from whatever those monsters that attacked them were. Well, alone with her and that weird robot boy on the other side.

So Momota had backed off, and the two had gone in alone, and Shuuichi came out more confident than Momota had seen him in years. His hat was gone and he was smiling and he looked Momota in the eyes when he told him how he had finally faced himself. Akamatsu had smiled, too, and explained that apparently Shuuichi now had the same power she did. She said the two of them could work together to save anyone else who got trapped inside the TV.

Momota felt the spark of something uncomfortably rotten then, but he clapped Shuuichi on the back, and said, “That’s my sidekick. Looks like you’re turning into a real hero just like your boss.”

And Akamatsu laughed and Shuuichi looked embarrassed and Momota still felt he was part of something.

-

Chabashira Tenko had appeared on TV because her family’s dojo was one of the few interesting things about their tiny town. Then she appeared on the midnight channel, and when their warnings failed, she disappeared inside the other world.

The three of them had met in the mall food court, Akamatsu saying, “I think our best course of action is to consult with Kiibo-kun, and see if he can locate her.”

Shuuichi nodded. “I believe Kiibo-kun also said that the person inside is only in danger when it’s foggy over here, so Chabashira-san should be safe for a while.”

“I know,” Akamatsu said. “But I’m still a little nervous, so if we can rescue her today, I think we should.”

Momota said, “Right,” and slammed his fists together. “Then let’s go today. ‘Sides, I’m really interested in meeting this Kiibo guy for real.”

Shuuichi and Akamatsu exchanged a look that made Momota’s stomach turn. “What?” he asked.

“Ah, Momota-kun,” Akamatsu began. “I know you want to help, but I think me and Saihara-kun can handle this.”

“What?!” he shouted. “Oh, come on—you guys are fighting monsters and shit, right? And you already told me how all the crap works, so it’s not like I’d slow you down or anything. Shuuichi,” he turned to him, “you know I’d be great, right? I mean, can you think of someone who’d be better at rescuing people than the great Momota Kaito?”

Shuuichi shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m sorry, Momota-kun,” he said. “But I have to agree with Akamatsu-san. Going into the TV is…” he shakes his head. “I really don’t think you should go through that. And besides,” he looked to Akamatsu for backup. “I think keeping this to as few people as possible will attract less attention.”

“That’s right,” Akamatsu said. “Besides, my cousin is getting suspicious enough as it is about me staying up till midnight watching TV and calling a boy.”

Momota looked between them and became aware he was dangerously close to sounding like a child whining to their parents. “Fine,” he sighed. “But I’m still gonna help you with shit. No way you guys are just leaving me out of this.”

-

On a day that looked like rain, Shuuichi and Akamatsu went to go save Chabashira, and Momota spent his afternoon on the capsule machine in the shopping district that always got stuck.

He didn’t really care about the toy pinwheel, cheap snack, or whatever else was trapped just inches from his reach. That didn’t stop him from smacking the machine with his fist and cursing with each futile kick.

Momota started to feel the first raindrops sprinkle down somewhere through the cloud of his frustration. The weather report said it was going to get worse within the hour, and Momota didn’t have an umbrella. Walking home soaked didn’t seem to matter when the machine in front of him needed just a few more smacks to work. His hand was starting to hurt, but that didn’t matter either.

The giggling from behind him managed to break his concentration. “Whoa there, big guy. If you break it, I won’t be able to—”

“Not now, Ouma! I’m,” Momota gave the machine another kick. “Fucking in the middle of something.”

Ouma smirked at him, happily twirling the handle of his neon purple umbrella. “Oh, don’t let me stop you. Just make sure you don’t ruin it for everybody, ‘kay? Speaking of everybody,” Momota’s scowl deepened as he just knew Ouma was making a show of looking around, “it’s a little weird to see you all on your lonesome. Ooh, what should I say to Momota-chan now that I got him alone?”

“Shut up,” Momota snapped.

The rain was starting to come down harder. Ouma giggled. “Someone seems upset. Weather got you down?”

It wasn’t that far away from the truth. The weekend rain had whisked his friends away to some place where they wouldn’t let him follow. Momota finally turned to face him. “What do you really want?”

Ouma ignored him, coming to stand beside the capsule machine. The meager light cast through his umbrella painted a purple crescent moon over his face. “You seem more like a sunshine person, so I guess it makes sense.”

He kneeled next to the machine and started fiddling with the controls in a way Momota must have overlooked. The tiny capsule came free, rattling as it fell free from its prison. Ouma smirked as he popped it open. “Ooh, a firecracker. Someone’s lucky.”

Momota didn’t care about the prize, and given the rain, a firecracker would likely be ruined in seconds. Still, he swiped it out of Ouma’s hands. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Always happy to help, Momota-chan,” Ouma hummed, placing his own money in the machine. His trick worked twice, but Ouma’s excitement deflated when he opened his own prize. “Aw, boo. Hey, Momota-chan, wanna trade me?”

“No,” Momota said. “I don’t fucking know what that is, but mine’s obviously better.”

“You don’t even want your stupid firecracker.”

“Whatever. You can be jealous if you want.”

Ouma huffed. “Meanie, and after I saved you, too.”

Momota furrowed his brow. “Saved? I said thanks, and I didn’t even need your fucking help in the first—”

Ouma has to raise his arm straight up in the air to get his umbrella over both of them. Ouma’s pale face is tinged purple, and Momota suddenly becomes very aware of the water dripping off of his bangs, off the end of his nose, down his suddenly hot face. “Yeah,” Ouma said. “There’s a killer lurking around, you know. I couldn’t just leave you out in the rain all by your—”

Momota ran. The firework was ruined. He pretended he didn’t see Ouma when he walked to school through the fog the next day.

-

Shuuichi and Akamatsu and their robot sidekick rescued Chabashira without a problem and without needing any help. And Chabashira came out of the T.V. with a persona of her own, ready to be a hero and fight alongside them.

When Yumeno Himiko’s magic show started being advertised, the pattern started again, and Chabashira chimed in on their four way phone calls at midnight, ready and waiting to jump into the action.

The day the three of them agreed to go into rescue her, Chabashira had asked, “Does Momota-san have the same power as us?”

“Ah, no,” Shuuichi said. “But he knows how everything works, so he helps out with things on this side.”

Momota had grinned as triumphantly as he could manage. “Yeah! I’m a team player or whatever. Though, I’m sure I could help more if I go over to that side with you guys.”

Akamatsu said, “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Besides, right now we really need to focus on saving Yumeno-san. Bringing someone else would be, well…”

“A liability?” Chabashira said. “If Momota-san hasn’t faced his other self, we would have to fight his shadow, correct?”

“I’m not a liability!” Momota shouted. “I already told you I know how everything works, so I’d be fine, and then you guys would have a fourth.”

Chabashira shook her head. “Just like an awful boy to put himself before someone else.”

Shuuichi winced. “I’m not sure I would say that, but it is true that we should try to minimize any distractions that might interfere with us rescuing Yumeno-san before the fog comes.”

Akamatsu was the leader, and she declared the argument final, and Momota got to watch the T.V. and let them know when the coast was clear to go in and come out.

It took them a few days to save Yumeno, and each rainy night Momota would stare at his T.V. and think about the tiny girl inside and how she would become a hero and feel so, so jealous.

-

The third person to show up on the midnight channel is the blurry outline of Ouma Kokichi, and Momota’s the first to start the group call.

Shuuichi says, “I think it’s him, too. There was that special the other day on possible cult activity, right? Everyone was talking about it, even if it’s all nonsense.”

“Tenko remembers that,” she says. “Also Akamatsu-san texted Tenko to say she will join soon after she deals with her cousin.”

“Should we just wait for her, then?” Yumeno asks. “I dunno if we can get much done with just us…”

“Come on, guys,” Momota says. “You can’t depend on Akamatsu for everything. Let’s make a plan so we can stop the killer before Ouma even touches a TV.”

Shuuichi sighs. “It would be nice if we could save someone before the killer kidnaps them.” Momota can practically hear his frown on the other side of the phone. “Also I really don’t want to imagine what Ouma-kun’s shadow would be like.”

“Ugh,” Yumeno says. “If we fight Ouma’s shadow and he gets a persona, do we have to let him on the team?”

Chabashira begins to say something, and Momota snaps over her, “No—don’t be an idiot.”

Chabashira starts reprimanding him for yelling at Yumeno, and Akamatsu finally joins the call and gives them a plan, and Momota swears to himself that he can do it. No matter what, he’s going to save someone. He’s going to be the hero and that’s that.

-

Momota decides that Ouma Kokichi is ten times more annoying when experienced in large doses.

At school, he waves off their warnings, saying how he already knows and can handle himself. He skips away from them, and Akamatsu sighs. “After class gets out, we’re following him. If we stake out his house, we might be able to catch the killer.”

Momota nods. “Got it. Leave this to me and Shuuichi. Ouma knows us better anyway, so the little brat’s less likely to call the fucking cops on us or something for breaking into his house.”

Shuuichi quickly waves his hands. “We are not breaking into anyone’s house. We’re just going to stay outside, and see if anyone suspicious comes by. Also I don’t think confronting the killer alone is a good idea.”

“Come on, Shuuichi,” Momota claps him on the back. “Be a man. There’s no way I’m gonna fucking back down from something like this.”

Chabashira crosses her arms. “Why are all boys so reckless?”

Momota dismisses her. “I’m not being reckless. I’m just doing what a man needs to do, you know? Even if it’s fucking saving someone like Ouma.”

Chabashira shook her head. “Tenko is never going to understand male degenerates.”

-

Akamatsu decides that everyone is going, and they stand on the sidewalk outside of Ouma’s house while he makes faces at them from his window.

Yumeno observes, “You think the killer would try and kidnap him even if a bunch of people were standing around?”

“No,” Akamatsu says with a sigh, “I don’t, but it’s not like there’s anywhere to hide around here.” She spares a glance to see Ouma sticking his tongue out at them through the glass. “And I doubt Ouma-kun would let us stay at his house.”

“That’s why I’m telling you guys we should just break in,” Momota says. “I’ll kick down the door, and Chabashira can beat him up.”

“Ah, Momota-kun,” Shuuichi says. “Our goal is to protect Ouma-kun.”

“I know,” he says.

Shuuichi just sighs. “Anyway, though I hope I’m wrong, I have a feeling that this is going to turn out like Chabashira-san and Yumeno-san’s cases.”

“And if it does, we’ll just do what we always do,” Akamatsu says. “We’re a team after all.”

Yumeno hums and says, “Yeah… I guess we are. Never thought I’d be on a team that fights monsters with a robot,” she looks to Momota, “and then another guy.”

“Shut up,” he snaps.

“Momota-san, do not be rude to Yumeno-san,” Chabashira says.

“She’s picking a fight with me—”

“Anyway,” Akamatsu says. “That reminds me of something. Saihara-kun, try calling my phone. Oh, and make sure to put it on speaker.”

He blinks at her but does so without question. With his phone to his ear, after a few rings a voice answers, “Hello? Is this Akamatsu-san?”

Everyone besides Momota perks up at the sound of the voice, leaving him to ask, “What?”

“Kiibo-kun,” Shuuichi says. “Is that you?”

“Yes!” the voice says. “I see Akamatsu-san’s plan worked. Now I can communicate with you from here.”

“At least until my phone’s battery runs out,” Akamatsu says with a self deprecating smile. “I tried leaving it with Kiibo-kun last time, just in case we could contact him, and it looks like it was a success.”

“Wait, Kiibo?” Momota asks. “The robot guy?”

The voice asks, “Is someone else there with you?”

“Oh, uh,” Shuuichi suddenly looks slightly nervous. “Just a friend. Do you remember the other person who came in with Akamatsu-san and me the first time?”

“I… think I do,” Kiibo says. “Was he tall and wore his jacket strangely?”

Akamastu smiles, not noticing the scowl on Momota’s face. “That’s right. He knows about the other world, so he helps us with stuff on this side.”

“Oh?” Kiibo asks. “What are you doing on your side? I have to admit I am very curious.”

“Just waiting,” Yumeno says. “It’s really boring…”

“Oh, I see,” Kiibo says. “Do you need an extra person for that?”

Shuuichi immediately begins stuttering in Momota’s defense. “Ah, well, w-we’re just staking out a place right now, so, um…”

He goes on, and Momota stops listening to his hollow words.

Hours pass, and Akamatsu announces that she thinks they should call it a day. Momota sits on the sidewalk and stares at the sky fading to the darkness. “I’m gonna stick around for a while longer. Maybe see if the killer comes at night or something.”

“Okay…” Akamatsu says hesitantly. “But be careful, alright?”

Momota waves her off. “I can handle myself.”

Shuuichi says, “I think I’ll stay for a bit, too. I’ll call if anything happens.”

Akamatsu nods. “Alright. I don’t have my phone, so just call my cousin and ask for me. She’ll probably be a pain about it, but…”

Shuuichi smiles wryly. “I know. Honestly, I’ll probably try calling Chabashira-san first.”

“Then Tenko will wait by her phone,” Chabashira answers.

“I’ll stay at Chabashira’s tonight,” Yumeno says with a yawn. “That way I won’t have to… I dunno. Call on my own phone or something…”

The girls wave goodbye and Shuuichi waves back and Momota stares forward. When the sounds of their footsteps disappear, Shuuichi sits down next to him to stare out at the sunset unfolding over them. “I’m… sorry about today,” he says. “Kiibo-kun really didn’t mean what he said or… how it came out. I know it’s probably still frustrating, but…” he offers a sympathetic smile. “It’s just important that we keep everyone as safe as possible.”

Momota doesn’t look at him. “Hey, Shuuichi, I’m gonna be honest with you. Waiting around on my ass while you guys do everything is driving me fucking crazy. It’s just not like me to be stuck on the sidelines like this.”

Shuuichi winces. “I… um,” he hunches up his shoulders defensively. “You know it’s not like that on purpose, right?”

Momota sighs. “Whatever. My point is, I’m not giving in this time.” He glances back at Ouma’s house. “Sucks the person I’m saving isn’t a cute girl, though. Seems you get all the luck.”

There’s an unreadable expression on Shuuichi’s face as Momota grins at him. “Um, I don’t think Chabashira-san or Yumeno-san…” he frowns at the ground. “A-Anyways, I wouldn’t say what happened to me or to them was lucky. I know we’ve told you about what happens inside the other world, but actually experiencing it first hand is different.”

“So?” Momota asks. “You know me. I could handle it.”

Shuuichi takes too long to answer, and Momota repeats, “You know I could fucking handle it, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Shuuichi says. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but—”

“Then don’t fucking say it!” Momota shouts. Shuuichi flinches, and Momota immediately regrets his words. “I’m sorry, man. But—come on. You know where I’m coming from, right? I’m not the type of guy who just lets everyone else do all the work when people are in danger. That’s not what a man does.”

Shuuichi frowns at the ground. “No,” he says. “I guess it isn’t.”

They sit quietly and night surrounds them. Eventually Shuuichi stands. “I think we should go home now. It’s late, and our families are probably starting to get worried.”

Momota shakes his head. “Nah, my grandparents don’t mind even if I wander off for a few days. I’m gonna stick around. Maybe break into Ouma’s house.”

Shuuichi sighs. “I know I can’t stop you, but please think before you do anything reckless.”

Momota grins, standing as well. “Just doing what a man needs to do.”

Shuuichi gives him an odd smile. “You keep saying that.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m just that kind of guy. And,” he looks back at Ouma’s house and slams his fists together. “I’m gonna save this brat even if it fucking kills both of us.”

“Please don’t say that,” Shuuichi says. “And I know Ouma-kun’s a pain, but I don’t think he has any friends so please try to get along with him if he does end up joining the team—”

“Ouma’s not joining shit,” Momota says. “‘Cause I’m gonna catch the killer before that happens. Still wish I was saving a cute girl instead but whatever.”

Shuuichi tries to smile. “Right. Goodnight, Momota-kun.”

-

Ouma opens the door before Momota knocks, looking up at him with a knowing smile as he says, “I knew it would be you.”

Momota rolls his eyes. “That’s cause I’ve been sitting out here all fucking day. Now let me in. I’ll just sleep on your couch or something.”

Ouma puffs out his cheeks. “Rude. You know, I don’t think I want to have a sleepover with you.”

“Not a fucking sleepover,” Momota says.

“Aww,” he starts sniffling. “But I wanted to braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys, and—”

“Just fucking let me in,” Momota huffs.

“Fiiiine,” Ouma says, finally stepping aside. “I live alone, but don’t mess up any of my stuff, okay?”

Momota enters, glancing around the almost absurdly cluttered house. “You live here by yourself?” He glances at a pile of boxes. “And all this crap is yours?”

Ouma locks the door behind him. “Geeze. You’re so rude, Momota-chan. And yes and yes.” He frowns at him. “Don’t touch anything.”

“I’m not gonna touch your shit,” he says, casually walking through Ouma’s cramped house, Ouma trailing after him. “But you really live alone? What happened to your parents?”

Ouma pushes past him to open a door to a closet near bursting at the seams with boxes. “Like I said: rude!”

Momota rolls his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. I don’t really care.”

Ouma finishes shuffling through the boxes and produces a neon purple blanket that looks like it was knitted by someone attempting to do so for the first time. Ouma shoves it into Momota’s arms. “Here you go! You can sleep on the couch unless,” he places a hand on his heart. “You stayed all night because you wanted to—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Momota scowls, feeling heat creep up his neck. “If you say shit like that…”

Ouma’s eyes well up with tears. “B-But, I l-let you into my house, a-and first you reject me and th-then you start threatening me?” he starts rubbing at his eyes. “A-And here I thought you w-wanted to stay because you l-liked me, a-a-and—waaaah!”

He starts bawling loudly enough that Momota’s afraid his neighbors are going to call the police. “H-Hey! Stop that!” Ouma keeps crying, and Momota shakes his shoulders. “Knock it off, already! I’m fucking sorry, okay?”

“Y-You are?” Ouma asks, still trembling under his sobs.

“Yeah, sure,” Momota says. “I apologize for whatever you’re upset about.”

“Hmm, okay!” the tears vanish, and Ouma’s back to rocking back and forth on his feet, batting his eyelashes at him. “So anyway, you’re here to be my knight in shining armor, and protect me from the bad guys, right?”

Momota runs a hand over his face and prepares for what feels like the longest night of his life.

The next morning, Ouma remains unkidnapped and the smell of the burning breakfast he tries to make for them signals a new day. Ouma insists they eat together and cries until Momota gives in and forces down every smoldering ember Ouma says he lovingly prepared just for him. Halfway through a breakfast composed of Ouma batting his eyes at him, Momota realizes he literally cannot wait until the killer shows up.

-

At school, Momota rests his head on his desk and says, “What if the killer decides not to kidnap Ouma because he’s too annoying?”

“I take it you had a good time then,” Akamatsu laughs. “Did you really stay all night?”

“Worst decision of my life,” Momota groans. “He gave me this stupid thin blanket that I’m pretty sure he fucking made himself, and he cooked actual cinders for breakfast.”

She laughs again. “That’s actually pretty nice of him. I saw you guys walking to school together this morning. You were really cute.”

“Nothing about spending time with Ouma is fucking cute,” Momota grumbles.

Shuuichi gives him a comforting smile. “I’m not sure if you care, but Ouma-kun seemed pretty happy this morning, so he probably won’t mind if you try to stay over again tonight,” he says. He must know Momota’s about to protest, so he adds, “It’s really impressive how dedicated you are to this case.”

Akamatsu nods. “Mhmm. The fact that you’re going so far to save someone is really admirable, right Saihara-kun?”

“Right,” he says.

Momota knows what they’re trying to do and sighs.

At the end of the day, Ouma’s waiting outside the school gates, rocking back and forth on his heels. When Momota arrives, Shuuichi and Akamatsu exchange conspiratory looks and wave goodbye, leaving him to his fate.

Ouma says far louder than necessary, “Are we having another sleepover tonight, Momota-chan?”

Momota hisses, “keep it down. And,” he runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, probably.”

“Yay!” Ouma shouts and lunges to try to warp himself around one of Momota’s arms.

He dodges out of the way and uses his height advantage to hold Ouma back with one hand pressed against his forehead. “Knock it off with that shit,” he glances around to see if anybody’s stopped to stare. “Especially when other people are around. It was hard enough to show my face at school today after you made us walk here together.”

Ouma hums, “I think someone’s insecure about our relationship.”

“You know,” Momota says. “If the fucking killer doesn’t murder you, I might.”

They begin the walk back with Ouma already sniffling, and as Momota looks down at him, all he can think is he’s going to be damned if Ouma somehow gets to be a hero before him.

-

The afternoon seems to go even slower than the day before as Momota lounges on the ratty couch trying to watch TV while Ouma chatters nonstop next to him. Momota interrupts him to say, “You should get a cat or something.”

“Hmm,” Ouma says, short legs swinging. “Maybe I should, but it’d be alone all day when I’m at school.”

“Yeah, well,” Momota leans back into the couch. “You obviously need someone to talk at.”

Ouma looks at him blankly, then stands and starts heading towards his tiny kitchen, sticking his tongue out at him on the way there. “I’m gonna make tea, and you can’t have any.”

Momota rolls his eyes, and then hears a knock on the door.

Ouma rushes by him, a half full kettle of water in his hands. “I’ll get it!”

Momota stands, slowly moving after him as he rushes to the door, asking, “You get visitors a lot?”

“Nope!” Ouma says.

Ouma opens the door, and Momota watches as two gloved hands jolt forward, one pressing a rag to Ouma’s face, the other gripping the back of his head to stop him from pulling away.

The kettle of water clatters to the ground as Ouma struggles in his attacker’s grasp, and Momota’s feet are moving before he can think, slipping through the puddle in his most heroic moment.

And even though barely seconds have passed, Ouma’s already falling limply to the ground as Momota surges forward to catch him, wrenching his body out of the culprit’s grip.

Momota’s holding him close to his chest, and thinks, ‘I’m finally going to be a hero.’ He looks up and sees two gloved hands coming at him armed with a rag. He tries to move back without letting go of Ouma but slips again in the water and the hands are still coming towards him

And then he wakes up in a weird foggy place with Ouma lying unconscious next to him. Momota looks around and remembers visiting somewhere just like this when Akamatsu became a hero.

He feels absolutely exhausted, and even though there’s a pounding in his head that hurts like hell, and he’s heard the others go on and on and on about how dangerous it is, Momota lets out a laugh of joy because it’s finally his moment.

His excitement aside, the first thing Momota does is check to make sure Ouma’s still breathing. His chest rises and falls evenly, but Momota checks his pulse and listens to his heartbeat just in case. He waits a few more minutes but assumes Ouma’s small stature likely means whatever chemicals they were forced to smell had a stronger affect on him.

Growing impatient, Momota hauls Ouma onto his shoulders—mildly concerned about leaving him alone—draping his skinny arms around his neck, and letting his head loll forward to press itself against his shoulder.

Ouma weighs worryingly little, but Momota finds himself thankful for it as he almost forgets the smaller boy is there as he wanders the fog covered landscape. He sees strange shapes moving just out of the corner of his eye, but none approach, even as Momota takes to calling out, “Robot guy! Key-whatever! Need your help!”

Momota walks for what feels like hours. The pounding in his head only increases, and every part of his body starts to feel heavier and sluggish. It’s only when Ouma starts to stir that he stops looking for whatever will give him the same power as the others.

Ouma’s still obviously out of it when he starts rubbing at his eyes, mumbling, “My head hurts…”

Momota snorts and decides to keep moving. “Bet it does. Apparently this place’ll do that to you the first time or something. Shuuichi and the others said that humans aren’t supposed to be here, so you need special glasses and stuff to get around without feeling like shit.”

“What…” Ouma seems genuinely confused for perhaps the first time Momota has ever seen. “What are you talking about?” He looks around them, finally taking in their surroundings, and Momota feels him cling a little tighter to his shoulders. “Where are we?”

“Inside the TV,” Momota answers. “The fucking killer probably shoved us in here, but we’ll be fine. The others’ll come help us and soon as we find shadow me, I can kick ass and get us out of here.”

Ouma groans, pressing his face into the back of Momota’s head. “I’ve been awake for five minutes, and Momota-chan’s already losing his mind. What am I going to do?”

“You can shut up,” Momota says. “My head feels like shit enough as it is. If you wanna make yourself useful, look around for a guy who looks like me except is glow-y and has yellow eyes and stuff.” He hums. “I wonder what weird outfit he’s wearing—probably something really cool.”

Ouma lets out another whining noise and wraps his arms tighter around Momota’s neck. They walk in silence for a few minutes until Ouma says, “Hey did you turn off my TV before you miserably failed trying to stop me from being kidnapped?”

“Uh,” Momota says. “I can’t remember.”

Ouma puffs out his cheeks. “You’re paying my electricity bill when Saihara-chan and the others rescue us.”

Momota rolls his eyes and keeps walking through the deep fog, the very world reaching into his mind as it builds walls up slowly around them.

-

In the real world, Shuuichi discovers Momota had left the TV on when he decides to stop by Ouma’s house just before dark to make sure the two haven’t killed each other.

Discovering the front door was unlocked after his knocks had gone unanswered had caused Shuuichi’s blood to run cold. Pushing the door open to see water splashed on the floor and the TV mindlessly playing commercials to an empty couch had been enough for him to panic into almost calling the police. But he remembers this is all on them, and Shuuichi fumbles with his phone with trembling fingers until he finds Akamatsu’s number.

Kiibo sounds far too happy when he picks up. “Hello! Akamatsu-san’s phone tells me this is Saihara-kun. Is that correct?”

“Y-Yes, it’s me,” Shuuichi stutters. “Um, but Kiibo-kun, I need you to, um—do you sense anyone else in that world? Maybe two people?”

“Give me one moment,” Kiibo says. Shuuichi paces around Ouma’s disturbingly quiet house as the weather channel plays, telling him it should rain tomorrow night but let up by morning. No fog. Finally Kiibo responds, “Saihara-kun! There are two people here! How did you know?”

“I’ll explain later, but right now I’m going to gather everyone and we’ll meet you there soon,” he says. “I know your persona doesn’t fight, but please do everything you can to make sure they stay safe, okay?”

“I will do my best!” Kiibo says. Akamatsu’s phone goes silent in his hands, and Kiibo lets himself focus on the vast, foggy void surrounding him.

-

Momota’s head is hurting worse and worse, and when Ouma starts to feel heavy he decides to take a break. The world around them has formed enough to create rooms off to the sides in the strange, twisting maze lined with movie posters and curtains entrapping them. He kneels down outside a door labeled ‘backstage,’ mumbling, “Get off. Don’t know why I was even carrying you for so long…”

Ouma finally lets go and staggers to his feet as Momota stands to stretch his back out. “I’m not complaining,” Ouma says brightly in spite of how badly Momota knows his head must be hurting. “You were a very good pack mule, Momota-chan.”

He just sighs in response and pushes the door before them open. “We’re resting in here for a while. Make sure nothing fucking tries to kill me while I take a nap.”

Ouma skips after him. “Ah, so you’ve been seeing all the monsters lurking around, too, huh, Momota-chan?”

“I knew they would be here,” he says. “They’re called shadows and they’re, like, repressed human desires or something? I don’t remember how Shuuichi explained it, but,” he smirks as he settles down against the far wall of the room, “these things are small fries. What we need to find are the big ones that look like us.”

Ouma sits next to him, stretching his short legs out in front of him. “I have one, too?” he asks, actually curious in his question.

Momota snorts. “‘Course you do. This place we’re in is because of your repressed shit.”

“Soooo,” Ouma looks around at the room, spying the spotlights dangling haphazardly from the ceiling and the strange cardboard cutout props that are littered about. “This is all me. And not you.”

“Duh.”

“Because,” he says. “You’re not repressing anything? Nothing that would have to do with movies or film studios or playing the hero—”

“Look,” Momota snaps. “You were the fucking target, so this place belongs to you. End of story.”

Ouma watches him for a moment, then hugs his knees to his chest, saying, “But shadow you is still going to show up anyway?” he smirks. “Make a cameo appearance?”

Momota nods firmly. “It is.”

“I see,” Ouma hums. “I wonder if shadow you and shadow me are friends since it looks like they’re roommates.” He smiles. “Or maybe they’re just having a sleepover like we did last night! Then they’d really be shadowing us, huh?”

Momota runs a hand over his face. “Are you gonna shut up and actually let me sleep or not?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I’ll keep watch. Let the big hero have his nap.”

Momota growls and lightly punches Ouma in the arm. “I told you to shut up.”

He’s half expecting him to burst into tears, but instead Ouma just smirks at him. “I’ll be quiet, Momota-chan. After all, I probably need a little more time to sort out my issues so I won’t have anything to repress like you.”

Momota glares at him, but their conversation is over and he manages to start to drift to sleep just out of range of the slowly sweeping spotlights. Ouma hugs his knees, and leans his head against Momota’s arm, and watches as monsters slither in and out of the shadows cast by large hanging curtains or stock backdrops.

As irritating as Ouma’s yapping and insults have been on top of his headache, Momota doesn’t move away from him. After waiting for so long, he’s not afraid in the slightest about whatever might be thrown at him, so he knows it’s not for comfort. But it’s nice in a weird way. Momota looks down at him and decides that Ouma must be scared and he’s protecting him. He’s just being Ouma’s hero. It’s his last thought before he drifts off to sleep, and it seems completely normal.

Ouma’s thoughts are different. The fact that they’re in a demented movie set is clear enough, and Ouma looks back up at Momota’s exhausted, sleeping face and wonders which of them is the better actor.

-

They stand around Kiibo, his persona hovering over him and displaying glowing holographic screens busy with information speeding across them. “I checked earlier, and I can still confirm that there are definitely two people here. I also believe they are together.”

“That’s good for us,” Akamatsu says. “We can just rescue them both in one sweep, right?”

Kiibo frowns. “Ideally that would be so, but I have never seen two humans come into this world together for an extended period before. I can only guess what structure their shared psyches will produce.”

Shuuichi says, “If you need any help finding them, I can give you any information you need. Ouma-kun… likes to keep himself a mystery, but I’ve known Momota-kun for years.”

Kiibo nods. “Thank you for your assistance. I will do my best to locate them soon.”

“We still have a while though, right?” Yumeno asks. “It’s not supposed to get foggy for like over a week or something.”

“Ah, I know,” Shuuichi says. “But I would prefer to save them as soon as possible. I…” he looks at the ground. “I’ve known Momota-kun since we were in elementary school, and I don’t know what his shadow is but I have a feeling it’s going to be really bad.” He bites his lip. “Um, don’t tell him I told you that.”

Akamatsu places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re just worried.”

“Even if we do not reach them today,” Chabashira says. “We should still be able to see what their shadows are on the midnight channel. Tenko checked the weather report before she came, and it is supposed to rain tonight.”

“Right,” Akamatsu says. “So for now, let’s just see if we can scope out where they are, and then we can get a look at their shadows tonight.”

Yumeno places a finger on her lower lip. “Hey, what do you think the midnight channel’s like when there’re two people in here?”

Shuuichi sighs. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.”

And Kiibo suddenly shouts, “Got it! There is a very large new structure,” he points off into the distance, “That way!”

“Then let’s go,” Akamatsu says. “The sooner we get them out of here the better.”

Kiibo nods. “I agree, however, I believe it would be wise to prepare even more so than usual. Like I said, this new structure is big—much bigger than Chabashira-san’s or Yumeno-san’s.”

Shuuichi clenches his jaw. “If everyone’s ready, I would like to go now, then.”

“I agree,” Akamatsu says. “If we’re up against two shadows, we’re probably going to need every second we have.”

Her assessment turns out to be far truer than Shuuichi would have hoped. It’s Yumeno’s first time using her persona in battle, and though the abilities come naturally to her as they would for anyone else, she still stumbles here and there in combat and tires easily after using too many spells. Even if she had more practice, Shuuichi thinks this place could wear anyone out. He had felt his heartbeat pick up at the sight of the distorted film lot, and the scenery inside changes so fast from one set piece to another that it all blurs together until he isn’t even sure what he’s looking at.

What worries Shuuichi the most, however, is the announcer. It’s clearly Momota, and Shuuichi feels his heart ache for him more and more with every distorted message.

When they first arrived it had said, “Welcome, one and all! Welcome to the Great—what? There’s only five of you? No one else showed up? No one… I guess that makes sense.”

Akamatsu immediately told the group they were going as far as they could today. Shuuichi quietly thanked her and internally thanked her again whenever Momota’s voice would come, mumbling to itself. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I just need to be stronger… why is everyone always so much stronger?”

Their own voices chime in every so often, each of them saying the things Shuuichi remembers so well about needing to keep Momota safe, how he didn’t really get what it was like, how it was better for him to just let them handle it. At a break Akamatsu says, “don’t let it get to you. These are just Momota-kun’s feelings going berserk. It’s blowing everything way out of proportion.”

“I have a question,” Yumeno says. “Not that I really want to, but why haven’t we heard anything from Ouma?”

“That’s a good question,” Akamatsu says. “I wonder…”

Before they can speculate more, there’s a softer musing. “Why him? Why am I stuck saving him? I wish he was… I don’t know. I don’t know…”

Yumeno frowns. “I don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.”

Shuuichi bites his lip. He has a feeling he knows. The longer they go on, the more protective he starts to feel, and he has to apologize for snapping at Kiibo when he attempts to speculate on what Momota’s shadow could be talking about.

The whole situation makes Shuuichi think about the nature of shadows far more than he had even when confronted with his own. There are effectively strangers romping through the landscape of his best friend’s raw emotions, and Shuuichi spends too much of their journey debating if he should slip away without telling the others one afternoon and try to take on Momota’s shadow alone. A well timed speech from Akamatsu after a rough encounter puts his thoughts to rest. He wouldn’t survive without the others, and then Momota would be dead. Shuuichi winces when he barely remembers to tack on, ‘and Ouma-kun, too,’ to that statement.

When they finally have to call it quits, they’ve seen nothing of either of the two shadows that must be lurking about. From the quiet giggling that keeps going in and out of Shuuichi’s range of hearing, however, he does know Ouma’s hiding somewhere. Akamatsu’s ears are better, and she says, “Ouma-kun keeps whispering, but I can’t make out any of the words. It’s like he wants my attention and then just mumbles nonsense.”

Shuuichi admits he doesn’t know Ouma as well and decides that’s a mystery he’ll have to puzzle out when they actually pin down his shadow.

The midnight channel says a lot and also almost nothing. There’s a flurry of movement, fists punching, legs striking, flips and cartwheels made all the more dramatic by flaring capes. And everything is punctuated by larger than life sound effects. It’s like something out of a children’s action cartoon. A title card appears announcing it’s apparently the ultimate showdown between the hero and the villain.

-

Ouma must have fallen asleep at some point, too, Momota realizes when he finally wakes up. He has no idea how much time has passed—or how time even works inside this place—and his thoughts on the matter are only half formed as he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Ouma is crouched a bit too close, staring at him. The huge yellow eyes give it away, but Momota glances down just for a second to check that the real Ouma is still sleeping peacefully at his side. Momota clears his throat, “Uh, you’re…”

Ouma’s shadow’s stare is unrelenting. Finding his own shadow was going to be one thing, but Momota vaguely realizes he didn’t really have a plan for encountering Ouma’s first. “You’re a shadow, right?” he tries.

“I don’t know what I am,” he answers, and then tilts his head unnaturally fast. “Do you know?”

Momota really wants to wake Ouma up to make him deal with this thing, but he also knows that he came into the TV to protect Ouma. Momota still gives Ouma a meaningful enough glance that the shadow hisses, “Don’t wake me up. I just wanted to see myself. I wanted to see what I look like to everyone else.”

Shuuichi had told him that your shadow says all of the thoughts you had been repressing—everything you knew was there but couldn’t bear to admit. Momota realizes this is a one of few opportunities to learn something about Ouma without hearing “it’s a lie!” every five seconds. He also remembers Shuuichi said that shadows have a habit of going berserk and trying to kill their hosts.

Momota does his best to place himself between Ouma and his shadow. “So,” he says, trying to choose his words carefully. “You’re on the outside now… because of whatever fucked up shit is going on. What do you think?”

The shadow does seem to consider his words. It tries to get closer to Ouma, and Momota pushes his sleeping form behind him. The shadow’s eyes flick rapidly to him. “I don’t understand. You shouldn’t be here.”

A distant crashing sound echoes around them, and the shadow jerks to its feet, running away without another word of acknowledgement. Momota calls after it, “Hey wait! Have you seen—”

His yelling does nothing but wake Ouma up, who grumbles and doesn’t look half as cheerful as usual. “Why are you screaming?” he whines. “My head hurts…”

“There was just—” Momota looks back at him. The hair on the side of Ouma’s head that had been pressed against his shoulder is lying almost flat while the other side springs out like usual. Momota can’t help but laugh. “Morning.”

Ouma frowns in confusion. “What are you smiling about? You better not be making fun of me.”

“Don’t worry,” Momota says. “Just… that’s a good look for you.”

Ouma figures it out, hands flying to start fixing his hair while he sniffles about how mean Momota is.

Perhaps it’s the contrast with the strange, wide eyed Ouma who didn’t seem to blink enough, but the sight of the real Ouma mussing his hair back into shape is somehow comforting. He knows all the previous victims had faced the TV world alone, and though he doesn’t plan to say it aloud, Momota can’t help but be slightly grateful for Ouma’s presence.

It’s only when they get up to start wandering again that Momota realizes he should probably tell Ouma about his encounter. “Oh, by the way, while you were sleeping, your shadow came by.”

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned shadow something earlier,” Ouma says, taking the information easily.

He doesn’t ask any follow up questions, which only makes Momota more eager to elaborate. “It wasn’t dressed up too weird or anything—just wearing, like, a slightly plainer uniform. And it just said some stuff about wanting to see you from the outside. Don’t worry—I didn’t let it do anything, though.”

Ouma smirks up at him. “My hero.”

“You could say thank you, you know,” Momota says, suddenly finding himself feeling irritable again.

“Why would I?” Ouma says. “I was unconscious, so I don’t even know what I would be thanking you for. And that means if I applauded my wonderful, dashing hero for saving me from the evil monster, it would just be a lie!”

Momota scowls. He immediately questions his decision to be grateful for Ouma’s presence. But that’s not important right now. There was a loud crash somewhere, and Momota figures that if shadow Ouma ran towards it, they should too. “Just shut up and follow me.”

“No piggyback ride today?” Ouma asks with a pout.

“Not unless you fall and break your ankle.”

“Ooh, but if I do that, then my hero will swoop in and save me!”

“If you hurt yourself on purpose, I’m not helping you.”

“W-Why are you being so mean to meeee?”

Momota’s shadow remains elusive, and Ouma’s seems to be avoiding them as well. However, Momota makes an effort to pretend he doesn’t start to hear disturbingly familiar voices or see objects he recognizes from his real life scattered throughout the twisting halls. In light of their situation, Ouma’s constant babbling is a relief rather an annoyance. Momota stays on the lookout for his shadow but keeps one eye on Ouma at all times.

A voice that sounds like it’s speaking directly into his ear hisses at him, “who’s protecting who?”

Momota snaps to look at Ouma, who only pauses in his rambling to react to his jerky movements. “Momota-chan, I know I’m very cute, but you should look forward while you’re walking. Actually don’t! It’d be really funny to see you walk into a wall.”

Ouma giggles to himself as Momota mumbles at him to shut up. Either Ouma didn’t hear the voice or he’s lying for Momota’s sake. Both possibilities make Momota’s throat tighten, and he forces himself not to look back anymore.

If his only companion suddenly disappeared, he wouldn’t be scared. He’d run off to go find them for their sake.

There’s too much nothing happening for Momota to easily get away from his thoughts. The exhaustion hanging over him causes them to take more breaks than he knows they should, but at the same time, he has a feeling they’d solidly get nowhere even if they managed to cover miles.

Ouma doesn’t seem to mind whether they walk or sit. He just keeps going on and on about nothing. Momota leans his head against a wall, and says, “you remember when I mentioned that cat thing? I think you should seriously look into it when we get out of here.”

Ouma puffs out his cheeks. “Do you really want me to be a crazy cat lady that badly? I mean maybe in five years, sure, but right now I’m so young and full of—”

“You just really seem like you need someone to talk at,” Momota says, knowing he’s repeating himself from earlier.

“Well, excuse me for trying to have a good time while I’m being kidnapped,” Ouma says. “I’m sorry I can’t just mope like you.”

Ouma sticks his tongue out. Momota rolls his eyes. “I’m not moping. I’m staying on guard. Your shadow snuck up on us when we were sleeping earlier, and we can’t let that happen again.”

“But shadow me didn’t do anything,” Ouma says. “Honestly, I cannot tell you how disappointing that is. I was really hoping it would confess some deep dark secret like my forbidden crush on you.”

Momota scowls. “I’m being serious, asshole.”

“And I’m being serious, too!” Ouma says. “Didn’t you say the whole point of a shadow was that it reveals all of your dirty laundry? Doesn’t that sound so exciting? I can’t wait to hear all of Momota-chan’s embarrassing secrets.”

“Well then you’re going to be disappointed because I don’t have any secrets,” Momota says. “I’m not like you.”

Ouma raises an eyebrow at him. “In what way?”

“Huh?”

“In what way are you different from me?” Ouma presses. “It’s the lying, right? Ooh, or maybe something about being selfish? Or about how I must be oh-so needy and lonely because I can’t shut up, right?”

Momota knows he doesn’t like where Ouma’s going even if he has no idea what he intends the conversation’s destination to be. “I’m not—”

“Oh, wait I know,” Ouma says. “You said my shadow wanted to see me from the outside, right? Well, that has to be the difference! You don’t worry about that kind of thing.”

“No,” Momota snaps. “I don’t. And just,” he throws his hands in the air, “what the hell is this anyway?”

“A lovely conversation between me and my dear Momota-chan.”

Momota narrows his eyes, and his, “shut up,” comes out significantly more dulled than it should.

“But I don’t want to,” Ouma says. “You told me the whole point of this creepy place was to talk about our secrets, but you keep getting mad at me when I try to play the game.” He childishly stomps his feet. “And this game isn’t any fun if I’m the only one playing.”

Momota rolls his eyes. “It’s not a game.”

“You’re missing the point,” Ouma sighs. “And here I am, offering to let you play on easy mode, and how is my kindness repaid?”

Ouma keeps going on his increasingly bizarre tangent. Momota tunes him out and turns over the few words he said that seemed to have any actual meaning. It takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to interrupt Ouma with, “hey, wait a minute. Are you trying to share stuff with me so when you see your shadow it’ll—”

“I already told you what I’m doing, Momota-chan,” Ouma says, hopping to his feet. “I’m just trying to have a good time.”

He holds his arms out to his sides like airplane wings and runs down the hallway. Momota’s eyes widen at his departure, and he’s on his feet in seconds after him, shouting at Ouma not to run off on his own.

The same voice—his own voice, Momota’s realized—starts to whisper, “who’s protecting—” and Momota pushes himself to run faster.

His running only leads him to an open room and the frantic conclusion that he has lost Ouma. The world must have twisted them away from each other, and Momota’s heart slams in his chest with every beat.

The exhaustion from his run, the world, and his panic do nothing to help. The whispering from before seems to get louder. More voices join in until Momota can’t make out any of them as they all fight to be heard. It becomes so deafening that Momota can barely hear his own hoarse voice as he calls out Ouma’s name.

He knows there is no way he’d be able to hear Ouma shout back, but he keeps looking and calling until he passes out on his feet.

-

Momota wakes up to a pair of yellow eyes. He doesn’t jump at the shadow’s presence this time, and waking up in the strange world feels uncomfortably normal. His head still hurts, and Ouma’s shadow passively watches him as he takes his time to cradle his head and curse.

It’s quiet now. It’s strange being around any version of Ouma and having quiet. Momota and his throbbing headache take a second to relish in it before rubbing the back of his head. “What do you want this time?”

The silence of the shadow is somehow even more frustrating than the noisiness of Ouma’s existence. Momota presses, “Isn’t your job to bother Ouma? Wait—actually do you know where the hell he is?”

“You’re still looking,” it says.

“Uh, yeah?” Momota says. “Can’t let you get yourself killed.”

“Why not?”

Momota gapes at the question. “Uh, because—what do you mean ‘why not?’ You’re an asshole, but I don’t want you dead.” The shadow stares owlishly at his response. Momota’s eyes widen in turn. “Wait, fuck, you’re Ouma’s inner thoughts, so—”

“Whatever you’re thinking is wrong,” the shadow says dismissively checking its nails, finally acting as Ouma as it looks. “I know me, so I’m not interested in hearing about me. I want to know what you know about me.” It smirks at him. “Even though it’s not much.”

Momota knows it’s true, but he can’t help but feel offended at the lilting tone. “Hey! I know stuff about you!”

“Then where am I?”

“I—I asked you that first!”

“You did. Very good job.”

Momota opens his mouth to yell back and barely catches what he’s doing in time. “You know what? Fuck you. If I’m gonna waste my time arguing, it’s gonna be with the real Ouma.”

With his declaration, Momota pulls himself to his feet and begins to proudly storm off in a random direction. The shadow tails him, whining all the way. “But I am the real Ouma!”

“You’re annoying enough to be him.”

Ouma’s shadow starts to cry, then laugh, then cry again. Its personality changes even faster than Ouma’s, spinning like a roulette wheel and making Momota dizzy. The shadow does skip a few paces ahead of him, however, and Momota gets the distinct feeling it knows where it’s going.

The concept of time has long since abandoned him when he first woke up to the point where Momota isn’t sure if it’s been minutes or days when the shadow pauses in front of a large set of doors.

There’s a little electric light on that says: “Filming in Progress” that causes a knot to form in Momota’s stomach. He casts a wary gaze over Ouma’s shadow even though its face is more devoid of emotion than Ouma’s could ever be. Momota swallows. Either Ouma’s in danger or he’s about to be.

Ouma is on his knees, staring off into space, when Momota pushes up the door. “Ouma!” Momota shouts, running over to him, the shadow at his side as if it’s concerned, too. “Why the hell did you run off like that!? Something could have attacked you, or—”

“I know Ouma-kun’s a pain, but I don’t think he has any friends so please try to get along with him.”

Momota blinks. “Shuuichi?”

More voices chime in.

“Don’t you get it? No one wants to be around you!”

“He lives alone? Makes sense. I know if I were his parents, I’d—”

“Don’t worry about what that report said. He was in a cult, but they all abandoned him, so he can’t do anything dangerous now.”

“You’re alone, and you always will—”

“Hey!” Momota shouts. “Shut up!”

Oddly enough, they follow his command, and suddenly the room is filled with too much silence. Momota hurries to Ouma’s side. He’s ready to rush his words of comfort, but stops short at the sight of Ouma’s smirk. “My hero.”

Momota sighs. “Whatever. Anyway, what the fuck were you thinking running—”

There are sobs behind him. “Th-That wasn’t a lie.” Ouma stiffens at the voice but remains rooted in place, leaving only Momota to glance over his shoulder at the weeping shadow, trying and failing to wipe away the tears running down its face. “Y-You came after me. I-I did everything I could, and you still c-came after me.”

The shadow takes a few steps forward, until it’s kneeling in front of Momota, too. “I’m too horrible for anyone to actually stay with me,” it says. “I can handle being alone or being hated, but… I’m terrified of being betrayed. S-So everyone needs to stay from me. I’d rather suffer on my own than be lied to like that.”

Ouma sighs as he turns to face the weeping shadow. “So this is what you were talking about, huh? All of my inner somethings?”

“Everything we’ve been lying about,” the shadow says. “Like how even though we know it’s impossible, we want so badly for someone to see the real us. But it will never happen, so we get frustrated and drive them away ourselves. It doesn’t hurt when we make them leave like it does when they get bored and give up on their own.”

Ouma seems remarkably calm, all things considered, but Momota still places a hand on his shoulder. “Momota-chan, before you say anything—”

“Hey, I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you earlier,” Momota says. “All that crap about how you were being annoying? I wasn’t thinking straight, and I’m not just going to leave because you’re a little hard to be around sometimes.”

Momota squeezes his shoulder. Ouma rolls his eyes. “You don’t get it.”

“Well, yeah, not everything. I’m not you,” Momota says. “But I came, right? I promised I was gonna protect you, and I’m not backing down on that. And, hell, I wasn’t thinking about this before, but after going through all this shit, there’s no way we’re not gonna be friends after this, you know?”

Momota’s comfort doesn’t have the effect he assumed it would. The shadow’s voice isn’t warbling with tears anymore. “I said you don’t get it.”

Instead of the muted uniform it had been wearing before, Ouma’s shadow now looks like some sort of comic book villain. “No one can understand me because I made myself that way. I keep lying and changing and pushing because I know if anyone solves the mystery, the only thing they’ll figure out is that there is no real me.”

Ouma closes his eyes. “Sure know how to keep a guy waiting, huh?”

The shadow draws to its feet, and more shadows appear from it, each resembling Ouma wearing some twisted version of his usual range of emotions. “I can’t just stop lying and show you the real me because there is no truth to uncover. But I’m selfish, and I want someone to find it for me anyway, even though as soon as they do, I know I’ll be too scared and change myself again. Of course, that’ll never happen because there’s nothing under whatever mask I’m wearing.”

The shadows are surrounding them now. Ouma lets out a very quiet sigh. Momota’s eyes flicker over his passive expression and his hands draw up into fists.

The shadow keeps talking. “I always go on and on about how much I hate lying to myself, but if I didn’t, there would be no me. It’s not just because I’m pathetic, either. Sure, I come up with a new lie every time I get hurt or feel abandoned—if I lie up a stronger version of myself, then whatever happened before doesn’t matter, does it? But it’s reached the point where even if I wanted to, it’s impossible. There is no saving me from myself. I’ll always be afraid, and I’ll always be alone, and I’ll never even know who I really am, and that’s just the way it—”

Momota’s fist collides with the shadow’s jaw, sending its small form reeling back. “Shut the hell up!” All of the other shadows retreat away into nothing. Momota pivots on his heel to stare down at Ouma. “What’s wrong with you? You’re just going to take that?”

It’s the first thing to catch Ouma off guard since his shadow appeared. “Momota-chan? Did you just—”

“Yeah, you’re fucking annoying as hell and you lie all the time for no goddamn reason! So!?” Momota barks. “You sound like you already know what your enemy is, so why are you doing nothing about it!?”

Ouma’s eyes narrow. “Weren’t you the one who said you have to accept your shadow?”

Momota shakes his head, calming down a little. “That’s not what I’m saying. You’re scared of a lot of things, and that’s fine. What pisses me off is that you’ve decided it’s hopeless, so you’re not even going to try and do better.”

Ouma looks away from him and towards his shadow, who has gone back to its plain appearance and is staring blandly back. “Sorry I don’t live up to your expectations, then.”

“Look,” Momota says. “I don’t know you, and,” he gestures vaguely at Ouma’s shadow, “seems like that’s for a reason, apparently. I don’t think that thing is lying, but just… don’t give up on yourself. Feeling left behind sucks a lot, but if you stop trying, you’re just going to feel worse. Because an opportunity to catch up might come along, and even if it’s not perfect, you know you need to make it work, and you can’t do that if…”

Ouma and his shadow are both staring at him unblinkingly. Whatever heroic high he had been riding drains out of him in favor of self consciousness. Momota rubs the back of his head. “You know what I mean, right?”

Ouma’s eyes shift off of him to something slightly to his left. It’s Momota’s only warning before he hears his own voice. “They probably don’t, but I do.”

Momota whirls around, coming face to face with himself. “Hey, I’ve been looking for—”

“I know,” it says. “I am you, after all.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Momota says, voice a touch too eager. “Shuuichi didn’t really go too much into the details, but you’re me and all of that crap. Alright,” he turns back to Ouma with a beaming smile and a thumbs up. “Just give me like five minutes, and I’ll get us out of here.”

Ouma’s expression isn’t nearly as confident as Momota expected it to be. “Are you sure?” his voice is a bit weaker than before, but his incredulousness comes through loud and clear. “What’s your…”

Momota turns to where Ouma’s looking now, and sees his shadow approach Ouma’s. Momota’s shadow brushes its fingers gently over where Momota had punched Ouma’s, and its voice is low as it murmurs, “hurt the person I was trying to save. That sounds like me…”

Its hand lingers. Neither shadow seems disturbed, but Momota can’t help but feel a flash of embarrassed heat surge through him at the action, especially when Ouma calls from behind him, “uh, Momota-chan?”

“Alright, stop fucking—” Momota marches across the room, wrenching his shadow away from Ouma’s. “Just—that’s not important. Okay, look, I’m listening. Tell me what I need to do to get whatever power Shuuichi and the others have and—”

“I’m glad you’re admitting it,” his shadow says. “Makes my life easier.”

Momota blinks at it, and the unsettling demeanor he had brushed off before sends a chill down the back of his neck. “Admit… what?”

“The real reason you came here,” the shadow says. “Saving the damsel in distress is a pretty nice bonus prize, but really it’s just a happy coincidence. Actually, two birds with one stone. Catch up to everyone else and pat yourself on the back for being a hero.”

Momota clenches his jaw as he remembers when Shuuichi said to him about shadows again. “Okay, yeah, I like helping people, and there’s nothing wrong with being proud of yourself for doing a good thing. And when you shut up and turn into a person-thing, I can help even more people.”

“Why do you do good things?” the shadow asks. “I mean, I already know the answer, since I’m you and all. I’ve never been that great at introspection stuff, so I guess I should come out and say it. There’s a reason why I introduce myself by giving out as many titles as I can think of. If I say I’m a hero enough, then it doesn’t actually matter that I always fail, right?”

Momota barely catches himself from biting back. He knows he has to accept it. His eyes flicker to anywhere other than his own sneering face, and Momota grimaces when he remembers Ouma is watching everything. His shadow notices, too. “Fuck, this is embarrassing with an audience, huh?” it laughs. “But honestly? It doesn’t really matter. I try so hard, but everyone thinks I’m a joke anyway. They all think I’m useless and an idiot, and every time Shuuichi does something better than me, they just get more proof that they don’t need me.”

Invoking Shuuichi’s name ruins any control Momota had over the situation. He shoves at his shadow, shouting, “Shut up!”

“I want to!” it yells back. “I’m not happy being jealous of everyone and everything around me! But when everyone acts like I can’t do anything right, what the hell else am I supposed to do!? The only thing I can do for Shuuichi is be his cheerleader and hope he lets me keep leeching off of him.”

“I said to shut the fuck up!”

“Because he doesn’t need me anymore! Hell, I liked it when he was struggling—I liked when he depended on me. And as long as Shuuichi needed me, I never had to deal with any of this stuff. He’s the one who has problems, he’s the one who struggles. Not me. It doesn’t matter if I’m a failure as a man and a person as long as I have—”

Momota sees red. He raises his fist again and is confused for half a second why it only gets so far in its arc to punching the smug look off his shadow’s face. Ouma’s obviously struggling to hold his arm back but manages to hiss out, “if you do that, it’ll go crazy and attack, idiot.”

His words pierce through Momota’s veil of anger just long enough for his shadow to laugh. “Wow, I was supposed to have the leg up on Ouma, and he can already handle himself better here. Oh well,” the shadow shrugs. “He already figured out how weak I am, and he knows he’s just being used as a convenient excuse to be a hero anyway.”

Momota lowers his fist and trips over his words as he stutters to Ouma, “I-I don’t feel that way.”

“Still, I can’t be vulnerable or ask for help because I’m supposed to be the hero,” shadow Momota says. “If I let them all know how weak I am, then they’d fall apart because they’re depending on me.” The shadow smirks. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense altogether, does it? Does everyone depend on me or am I completely useless? Well, I guess that’s what happens when you’re stuck fighting your own inferiority complex.”

The shadow seems like it’s finally done and casts its judging eyes over him. “So what do you think about all that, me?”

Even as he stands still, Momota feels like he just ran a marathon from the surge of adrenaline rushing through him. He looks at his shadow and back down to Ouma still holding him back.

Momota doesn’t think. His hand grips Ouma’s tight, and he doesn’t pause in his sprint even when Ouma stumbles the first few steps. His shadow is laughing, its voice carrying after them as Momota bursts back out through the doors and down the twisting hallways.

With his shorter strides, Ouma is obviously having trouble keeping up, but Momota can barely hear his calls to slow down over all the ugly words playing over and over again in his head.

Ouma stops whining when they finally do pause. Momota is both grateful and livid at how silent Ouma stays while he wipes away his angry tears on the back of his sleeves with violent movements. Ouma is passively staring at him when he finishes. Momota wants to yell at him and beg for him not to tell anyone else what he just saw.

He doesn’t end up doing either. “The—the shit that thing said about helping you,” he says, half breathless. “You know that’s not true. I really did mean everything I said before, and I want to…” Momota swallows, taking in Ouma’s furrowed brow. “I want to help. Whatever you’re going through, you shouldn’t do it alone. I,” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck. I know from experience what happens when you try to—”

He cuts himself off when he notices his own shadow flickering to life inches behind Ouma.

Ouma lets out an undignified yelp when Momota scrambles to step between him and the shadow. The shadow doesn’t get the chance to say anything as Momota spits at it, “You—you need to shut up and get the fuck away from us.”

Distantly, there are stampeding feet as a crowd of people run towards them. Momota doesn’t hear them. His shadow says, “I can’t leave. I’m you, after—”

“No, you’re not!” Momota shouts.

Somewhere, far beyond Momota’s current circle of awareness, Shuuichi yells, “Don’t say it!”

“You’re not me!”

The shadow laughs as energy swarms around it. Momota’s world goes dark, and Ouma struggles as his body collapses onto him.

-

Their rescue party jumps straight into battle. Someone shouts, “Kiibo-kun, keep Momota-kun and Ouma-kun safe!” and then the funniest looking robot thing Ouma has ever seen is standing near him.

Kiibo offers a few words of condolence for how confused Ouma must be. The fact that Momota’s shadow has transformed into a towering abomination does confuse Ouma quite a bit, but he chooses to say, “yeah, having a giant roomba talk to you is pretty weird.”

Kiibo doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

The firework display the others are putting on is pretty impressive, but Ouma busies himself with discreetly checking to make sure Momota is still breathing. There’s a dissonance between staring down at Momota’s unconscious form and hearing his distorted voice growl at the others in the heat of battle. There’s also something dissonant in how in all of his self centered anger and frustration, Momota never left him behind.

Ouma feels like the fight is lasting longer than it should. “Hey, robot guy,” he says. “Are they almost done?”

His question is answered with a grimace. “Unfortunately, due to some… personal concerns over the situation, I’m afraid that Akamatsu-san and the others may have entered the battle after their expedition of the last few floors. I warned them not to engage unless they were at full strength, but…”

“So you were just going to let me and Momota-chan die?” Ouma asks. “Well, I guess you are a robot…”

Kiibo is obviously flustered by his comment, but something in the fight catches his attention. “Saihara-kun, stay on guard! It’s targeting you again!”

From what Ouma can discern from the fight, everyone looks thoroughly battered, with Shuuichi appearing far and away the most exhausted from the relentless attacks against him. Kiibo is clenching his jaw as he watches. Ouma glances down at Momota, still breathing steadily even as his face twists in some phantom anguish. “So they’re losing.”

Kiibo doesn’t take his eyes off the fight. “It… could be going better. If—wait.” The strange projected screens in front of him flare with activity. “Everyone, be careful! I’m detecting another powerful shadow close by! It’s—it’s behind us right—”

Ouma spies his own shadow sitting across from him, Momota’s body between them. Kiibo notices it a second later and screams. “The shadow is right—!”

Kiibo keeps babbling. Ouma’s shadow is quiet as it presses its fingers to the bruise lingering on its pale face. Ouma smirks back at it. “I sure hope I’m not you. Getting so worked up over an idiot standing up for me, running after me…” He glances down at Momota and laughs. “Good thing you passed out for this part, Momota-chan. Although it would be kinda fun to hear whatever stupid cliché speech you’d try to make.” He glances up to Kiibo watching him curiously. “Hey, robot guy, humans have this little thing they like called privacy.”

Ouma shoos him away with his hands, and Kiibo is quite clearly offended but complies. “Anyway,” he says to his shadow once Kiibo is no longer hovering over him. “You were right. I don’t like to make it a habit to lie to myself, even if I don’t know where I’d be if I stopped. So I won’t. You know, you didn’t actually say anything I didn’t already know. But,” he hums. “Maybe I have been settling lately, which really is a problem since a supreme leader deserves the very best.”

The shadow nods. Ouma giggles. “So yeah, I guess you’re me. You should be grateful you get to be part of someone so important.”

There’s a lot more he doesn’t say, but the silence of the confession doesn’t seem to matter.

A light starts to emanate from the shadow before consuming it completely. A card with a crescent moon drifts down into Ouma’s hand. He doesn’t need any explanation for what it is. Everything suddenly makes sense.

Ouma stands and gently nudges Momota’s shoulder with his foot. “Looks like your shadow is going to need more than one punch. And you think I need a lot of attention, geeze.”

Ouma looks over at Kiibo, staring wide eyed at him. “You’re lucky I’ve been in the mood to beat up Momota-chan for a while now,” he says with a wink.

Kiibo stutters as he begins his message. “U-Uh, Saihara-kun, if you want, you can tag out now.”

Shuuichi is swaying in place after the last assault and blinks in confusion as Ouma skips over to him, his persona glowing bright behind him. “Ouma-kun?”

“No, it’s me, Momota-chan,” Ouma says with a teasing smile. “Just give me one second to handle the crybaby, and then you guys can have your heart to heart later, ‘kay?”

With the burns from the last attack still stinging up the lengths of his arms, Shuuichi doesn’t have a choice but to accept and stare in wonder.

-

The fight is longer than a few flashes of ice and fire, but the final few bursts of magic are all Momota sees when he finally opens his eyes again. He sits up with aching limbs, and everyone circled supportively around him. Shuuichi lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Momota-kun, are you alright?”

Shuuichi looks noticeably worse for wear, and Momota can’t help but wince in guilt. “Uh, yeah, I’m…” he spies his shadow standing dead eyed in the background. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry,” Akamatsu says. “We took care of it, but the hard part is still up to you.”

Hot shame burns over him, and Momota doesn’t know what to do other than rub at the back of his head and curse again. Ouma huffs. “Yeah, duh, so give him some privacy. Only I get to hear all of Momota-chan’s dirty secrets.”

Momota’s head snaps up at Ouma’s voice. “Ouma, you—”

“Am doing perfect, thank you for asking!” Ouma says.

Momota looks at the others before leaning close to Ouma and whispering, “What happened to your shadow?”

Ouma whispers back, “Hey, Momota-chan? You want to know a secret? Whispering is really fun.” Momota scowls as he pulls back, but Ouma only giggles in response. “Well, to be honest, I really don’t know why you’re asking. My brave hero already beat it up.”

To Momota’s surprise, Yumeno lets out a drawn out, “ohhh, so that’s why there wasn’t a second shadow.”

“Kiibo-kun tried to tell us about one,” Akamatsu says. “But then it never actually showed up. It was really weird.”

Momota stares at Ouma with wide eyes while Chabashira throws her hands in the air. “Tenko can’t believe you were reckless enough to fight a shadow all by yourself!”

Ouma winks.

Momota is very aware Ouma is trying to have a silent conversation, but whatever nuances he’s trying to convey are lost on him. Shuuichi clears his throat with an inoffensive cough. “Ah, as glad as I am that you were able to help Ouma-kun, there’s still…”

Momota follows his gaze to the back of the room. He grits his teeth. “Right. Can you guys…”

“Of course,” Akamatsu says. “Just remember that your shadow is the worst parts of yourself, and you’re so much more than that, okay?”

“Yeah!” Ouma adds. “Momota-chan has lots of other good qualities like he’s a fast runner and is good at carrying people on his back and—”

Momota waves him off while Tenko snaps at Ouma for kicking Momota after he’s had such a hard day. The murmuring of the group is a dull hum as Momota approaches his shadow.

“Hey, uh,” he says. “I don’t… know what to say. It’s nice everyone isn’t watching, at least. Fuck, I can barely admit this stuff to myself. How pathetic is that?” the shadow doesn’t respond as Momota shakes his head. “No, I need to stop thinking that way. Just because I have stuff I need to work out doesn’t mean I’m weak. And even if I am weak…” he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I can’t say that I’m okay with that, and I’m not okay with letting anyone know either, but…”

Momota takes a deep breath and presses both hands to his face. For a split second wonders if it’s even possible for him to keep going. A slight tug on his sleeve gets him to look down at Ouma suddenly right by his side.

“I’ll let you get back to playing with yourself in a second, but I just remembered I have something extremely important to tell you,” Ouma says. “You’re really annoying and you lie all the time.”

Momota frowns before he remembers exactly where he last heard those words. “Ouma?”

“And after aaall that work you made me do, I’m gonna be really mad if you just give up and throw all my hard work away,” Ouma says. Momota stares blankly back and him and Ouma huffs. “Oh come on. You’re just going to stand there and take it? If you want me to punch your shadow, you’re gonna have to let me ride on your shoulders again. Actually that sounds really fun! Okay, one punch coming right—”

“As if a punch from you will do anything,” Momota laughs.

“You know, if you really don’t think I’m strong, you wouldn’t mind being my punching bag, right?”

Momota rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He turns back to his shadow. “You’re right about everything, and I don’t know what to do or how to fix it. But I am going to stop pretending you don’t exist. If I wanna get better, I can’t fucking give up on myself. And, besides, doing something like that, that wouldn’t be like me either.” He sighs. “So, yeah. You’re me. Even the parts I still can’t admit to anyone.”

“Besides me,” Ouma says.

“Besides Ouma,” Momota says. “For some fucking reason.”

The shadow turns into light, and Momota reaches out to grasp the flickering card engraved with a sun before him. “I…” the light fades, and he’s left holding something that looks no more important than a plain playing card. “I wanted this for so long.”

“Looks like all your dreams came true, then,” Ouma says. “Although you didn’t really need it to fight shadows.”

Momota looks down at him, smiling fondly at the compliment. “Huh, I guess I—”

“Also was your shadow kinda…” Ouma trails off.

Momota furrows his brow. “Kind of what?”

Ouma gives him a knowing smirk and runs away giggling.

Out of the TV world to sleep for days, a deeply needed talk with Shuuichi, and far too many voluntary sleepovers with Ouma later, Momota figures out what Ouma was talking about.

There are parts of himself that still feel too raw to touch and others that blind if he focuses on them for too long. In a quiet moment, Ouma tells him he’s trying to just do what feels natural, but sometimes he finds himself over thinking what that means and hurrying back to square one.

Everything under the surface that had boiled out is still there, and the power to summon a version of himself that shines like the sun doesn’t whisk away all the doubt and frustration.

Someone else falls into the TV, and Momota is invited along. It’s surreal to be on the other side and see Ouma’s tiny persona darting around his. The image is so strange, but it seems like the light finally starting to shine through the fog.

Chapter Text

Rank 0

The fatigue set in as soon as he stepped out of the TV. It brought him to his hands and knees, and Momota could offer few complaints about his confinement to little more than loafing around his house for the next few days.

His grandparents treated the whole situation with levity and would poke fun at him whenever some daze would strike him causing Momota to devolve into stasis in the middle of whatever menial action he had been performing. They joked that his head is somewhere in space, like it had been ever since he was a child and someone made the mistake of telling him that the universe was vaster than he could possibly imagine—too big to ever see all at once and impossible to hold in his small hands.

Momota didn’t mind the teasing. He could sense somewhere behind the serenity there was a deep seated fear that required quiet checking in the middle of the night to make sure he hadn’t been whisked away again. Even in his exhaustion, Momota can’t help but wake every time they neared his room. It wasn’t their footsteps but their anxiety sending little creaks in the corner of his mind.

Shuuichi never talked about his persona outside of its abilities to fight shadows. With sun shining through his window in thin streams, Momota stares at his blank TV and feels its quiet presence in every part of him. No one had to tell him its name or shape.

Alone in his bedroom, Momota holds his hand out and visualizes the shining blue card engraved with the sun. He closes his fist. “Tonatiuh.”

Nothing appears. Momota isn’t sure what he was expecting, but he can feel a warmth radiating from somewhere far beneath his skin.

When he is well enough to return to school, he can feel tendrils of foreign anxiety weave into the edge of his consciousness. They’re different than the ones he felt at home and they burst into full bloom when Shuuichi greets him with a bright smile. It’s not overpowering, but it distracts him enough that he asks Shuuichi to repeat himself too many times. New flowers replace the old ones.

Momota spends the day doodling suns in the margins of his notes. Akamatsu seems at ease, but Momota can sense no signs of whatever is fluttery and restless behind Shuuichi’s encouraging eyes letting up. Without the stains of jealousy clouding his vision, he’s always been able to see right through Shuuichi.

“I really am okay, man,” Momota says when a particularly large crack in Shuuichi’s joy rears up. “I slept off everything that happened and probably even some other stuff.”

Shuuichi tries to smile at his answer. “If you’re sure.”

“‘Course I am,” Momota says. “‘Sides, I got a lot of stuff to catch up, and I can’t do that if I’m fucking stuck in bed.”

“Oh yeah,” Akamatsu says. “You can borrow my notes for the classes you missed. Oh! Maybe we could have a little tutoring session for you and Ouma-kun so you guys can get caught up.”

Momota knows that things would go faster if he studied alone, but Akamatsu’s happy with her idea and he interrupts Shuuichi from interrupting her plans. Momota suggests the food court for their meeting place. It’s only an hour or two of studying away from where he really needs to catch up.

Studying devolves into the girls running in circles as they try to explain the material to each other. Shuuichi puzzles over how Ouma’s managed to fill each of his notebooks to bursting with drawings far odder than Momota’s suns. History facts weave in snakes and swirls to maneuver around half smiling clowns. Ouma beams at Shuuichi’s discovery. “If you like horses, we should talk about math next.”

In a lull, Momota asks, “so have you ever, you know, tried to use your persona in the real world?”

Shuuichi’s eyes widen at the question as Chabashira answers. “No, but Tenko should try it sometime.” Her hand chops through the air. “A little wind would help sweep nasty boys off their feet.”

“It doesn’t work,” Yumeno says. “I wanted to do some spells and stuff to help with my magic, but I must not have had enough MP.”

“Well,” Akamatsu says. “Even if it does work, it’s probably a bad idea. Imagine trying to explain summoning a persona to your family if they walked in on you.”

“Ah,” Shuuichi says. “Your cousin would probably… have some things to say about it if she saw.”

Akamatsu groans. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Anyway, what Momota-chan’s really trying to say,” Ouma says, “is let’s just go to the TV already! I wanna play some more!”

“It is not playing,” Chabashira says. “And a reckless attitude like that—”

Ouma jumps to his feet, already running off. “I wanna see the robot guy again!”

Akamatsu says, “I mean, Kiibo-kun did say he would have some glasses prepared for you guys, so why not?”

“I think it’d be nice to visit him, too,” Shuuichi says. “I get the feeling he gets lonely sometimes.”

“Can robots get lonely?” Yumeno asks.

Momota only sort of knows who Kiibo is, and the introduction he gets is interrupted by Ouma shouting, “Toaster-chan!”

Toaster-chan doesn’t like Ouma’s nickname and shouts back. “Th-That is robophobic! I am much more advanced than a toaster!”

“Anyway,” Akamatsu says. “Kiibo-kun helps us in battle and created these glasses to help us see through the fog.”

Momota gets his own pair, and the fog around the platform lifts. Yet even before he put them on, the world felt different than when he had come before. The fog blanketed everything, but he could sense the earth under it, shifting and changing and stretching out and over some twisted structure.

He didn’t know how to describe it and trying to explain would just be another hurdle before he got to test his persona in battle. Ouma seems to be on the same page as him. “Okay, okay, can we practice already? Talking to Toaster-chan is boooring.”

Kiibo takes offense. Akamatsu says, “Training is probably a good idea if everyone’s up for it. Fighting a few shadows in the film lot might help you guys get the hang of things.”

Momota winces. “The film lot is, uh…”

“We could go somewhere else,” Shuuichi says. “Like, um…” He trails off in face of the twin glares from Chabashira and Yumeno.

“No, it’s fine,” Momota says. “Akamatsu brought it up because it’s the best place to train, right? And I’m not about to let a few bad memories stand in my way.”

Momota feels it again, mostly from Shuuichi but also from everyone else, too. It’s louder somehow. Everything about the others feels louder. Akamastu says, “Then let’s go.”

The others’ personas are quiet and move swiftly to land their strikes or spells. Momota swears that Ouma’s is laughing as its shapeless body made of stars flickers in and out of existence though the others don’t seem to notice a thing. Every part of it comes into sharp focus when Momota calls his own persona. He can see the stars that trail behind it and the outline of where it must be hiding when it turns invisible.

It’s not just Ouma. He sees everyone. He sees the world, too, in all its twisting vastness. A shadow approaches him, and Momota can see every ability it has, all of its defenses, all of its weakness, and everything else that makes it what it is. And he realizes there is nothing he can do when it sends a jet of fire towards him.

Akamatsu had explained that having a persona acted as a barrier between themselves and the shadows. All of the magical lightning strikes and whirlwinds would topple them eventually, but they could withstand far more and a few magic spells would seal up the tears.

Momota’s on the ground and his entire world is nothing but burns and Shuuichi’s horrified face as he trips over his words in his haste to heal him. Whatever magic words he says do their job, but Momota still gasps to catch his breath when the phantom pains leave him.

“Momota-kun,” Shuuichi says. “Are you alright? A-Are you weak to fire, or—”

Momota looks past him to see the others disposing of the shadow that knocked him off his feet. Every part of the battle comes into crisp focus. Shuuichi is rambling. Momota feels his stomach drop as his persona whispers to him. “I can’t fight,” he says.

Shuuichi looks like a deer caught in a car’s headlights at the best of times. “Huh?”

Their chatter after the battle is quieter. Shuuichi explains the situation. Momota stares at the ground. Kiibo proudly announces, “Ah, it seems your persona is tuned for navigation and support like myself.”

Akamatsu starts to interrogate the extent of his abilities. Momota can feel Shuuichi’s nerves flaring up again. Momota tells her everything with his biggest smile.

“But wait,” Yumeno says when he finishes. “If you can do all that then Kiibo…”

“I-I may not be able monitor shadows in the same way as Momota-kun,” Kiibo says. “But I still have my uses!”

“Like?” Yumeno asks.

Kiibo stutters, his defenses weaker than Momota’s smile once the spotlight is off of him. Akamatsu decides they’re done for the day, but she insists they meet back up for a few practice battles with Momota in Kiibo’s position later.

The places he had been burned still sting.

Rank 1

It’s raining. In their sleepy town, there’s nothing to do on rainy days. Akamatsu seems to think they’re the perfect time to train. She turns to Momota and Shuuichi after classes finish, the words already on her lips when Momota says, “think I’m gonna spend the day studying. Still have a lot to catch up on, you know.”

Akamatsu wouldn’t know otherwise. “Oh yeah,” she says. “We weren’t very helpful yesterday, were we?”

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” he says. “I also, uh, need quiet when I study.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t get a lot of that if we all meet up.”

Shuuichi is staring at him, biting his lip. The previous day’s discovery let Momota in on why exactly the emotions of everyone glitter in the background of his mind like supernovas—exploding in their own worlds but only bright specks to him. His persona never stops whispering to him.

Akamatsu says, “That reminds me. Aren’t grades from the last exam going to be posted soon?”

Shuuichi stops hiding his worry in the look he gives in response to Momota’s laugh. “Ah, yeah. Good thing the fucking killer waited until after tests to make their move, huh?”

Akamatsu laughs, too.

There’s really nothing for Momota to do in the library. With the quiet and boredom he can’t help but listen to his persona collecting and cataloguing everyone around him. Shuuichi’s familiar anxiety stirs in the doorway, and Momota ducks down lower under his tower of books. Shuuichi wanders, looks, and leaves with a sigh. Momota rests his forehead on his desk and wonders what the hell he’s doing.

The test scores out him the next day. Akamatsu doesn’t look like she’s about to congratulate him for topping the list. “So,” she says, voice even. Tonatiuh tells him she’s irritated. Momota thinks he could have figured that out on his own. “Getting kidnapped was actually just giving us a chance to all catch up, right?”

Shuuichi says, “Akamatsu-san, you know Momota-kun wants to be an astronaut. He’s been reading ahead in class since we were in elementary school.”

“So? That doesn’t matter,” he says. “I just gotta lot of, you know, busy work type shit to finish.”

“Did you finish it yesterday?”

It’s still raining. They go into the TV.

Ouma greets him with a wink. “I have to say, I feel a lot better knowing Momota-chan has my back than some smelly dishwasher.”

“I think I have had enough of your robophobia!”

“Then do something cool!”

The others head off to explore the twisting film lot while Momota stays a few paces back for his own safety. Kiibo stays at his side. “Don’t worry, Momota-kun. I have clocked battlefield time, so I can help you if you have any trouble assisting the others.”

Kiibo is firmly rooted next to him, perhaps even a bit too close for comfort, but he quickly fades away once Momota summons his persona. The vastness of the dungeon spreads out before him, mapped neatly and just waiting to be claimed. Ouma laughs louder than his persona when he showers the shadows that approach him with ice. Another enemy shatters in a block of ice, and Momota pushes down something ugly as he scans the building their psyches had made together.

“Ouma, you got to cool it with the magic or you’re gonna run out of energy,” Momota says.

“Got it!” Ouma says. “I will cool things with magic!”

Momota pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about, asshole.”

“My darling Momota-chan is worried about me, I got it,” Ouma says. “Will keep it in mind!”

“I’m gonna kick your fucking teeth—hold up guys, that shadow’s a bit stronger than you. Might wanna heal first.”

“Got it,” Shuuichi says. “Thank you, Momota-kun. It’s really helpful to have you around.”

“Boo! Stop sucking up to Momota-chan!”

“Okay!” Akamatsu says. “Let’s go fight the shadow!”

The fights go on, and Momota can tell the others are getting tired of listening to him and Ouma bicker with no escape. But every time Ouma opens his mouth or hits a shadow or dodges or does anything, Momota can’t stop himself. Chabashira’s in the middle of complaining about how if she wanted to listen to boys tell her what to do all day she’d do one thing or the other, but Momota can’t focus on that because Ouma just knocked down a shadow much tougher than him with a lucky hit.

Ouma’s persona is definitely laughing. Everyone else listening in is the only thing stopping Momota from yelling at it to shut the hell up.

Kiibo must notice his irritation. “Momota-kun, if you’re having trouble with—”

“I’m not,” Momota says. Kiibo deflates. Shuuichi asks who he’s talking to. “Kiibo just asked me something. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell the toaster not to distract you!”

Momota doesn’t know how long they spend in the TV, but it feels like forever until Akamatsu finally announces they’re done for the day. Ouma blithely responds that he could keep going. Kiibo flutters to and fro when everyone comes back. With the exception of Shuuichi humoring him, he’s waved off. But Kiibo’s pouting is the last thing on Momota’s mind.

Ouma skips over to him as soon as they’re out of the TV. “Hey, hey, Momota-chan,” he says. “Sooo I saw the test results, and I’ve been looking for a super smart tutor who can be my math homework.”

Momota can’t think of anything he’d rather do less at that moment. “Don’t you mean help you with your math homework? Idiot.”

Ouma starts to cry. Momota swears at him, and then swears again when his umbrella refuses to cooperate. The others get ahead of him while he stops to fiddle with it. It pops open at the same time Ouma pops back up at his side. “So about my math homework—”

“Fucking figure it out yourself.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” Ouma says. “And here I thought you’d enjoy helping a friend in need. Isn’t it nice when we all do our parts and help our friends, and—”

“Just fucking do it already!” Momota shouts at him.

Ouma blinks. “Do wha—”

“I know you’ve been doing it all day anyway, so at least fucking laugh at me to my face!” Ouma stares at him. Momota can’t hear anything above his own rage. He reaches out to shove Ouma with one hand, not hard to knock him off his feet but just enough to make him stumble back a few paces. “You got me alone, so what the hell are you waiting for!? Just fucking say it already!”

The rain is beating down, and Momota can barely hear anything. Ouma says, “Guess I’ll ask Saihara-chan to help me.” He turns away. Momota feels the heat drain out of him, leaving behind a chill and shame. Over his shoulder, Ouma says, “I can have a problem with you if you want me to, Momota-chan. Just ask next time first, ‘kay? It’ll make things much easier on both of us.”

Momota doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, and he’s almost finished his walk alone in the rain by the time he starts to piece it together.

He does everything with a little too much force. Slamming the door, shaking out his umbrella, shrugging off his coat. Momota collapses on his bed. There’s a neat row of action figures he’s kept on his shelf since he outgrew playing make believe with them. He jumps back to his feet, grabs his empty waste bin and brushes them all inside with a sweep of his arm.

In the morning, the rain’s cleared up, and Momota is almost late for school after having to take the time to line all his childhood toys back up.

At school, everyone is whispering their own private miseries again. No matter what, Momota can’t turn off his persona even as he feels his shadow starting to rear its ugly head.

Rank 2

When his heart beats hard and the tennis balls smack against the ground in their respective rhythms, his head starts to feel clearer. When his arms and legs strain from raw physical exertion, there is less time to feel the burns of the shadow the others had to save him from.

Ouma has been making a show of avoiding him one second and being sickly sweet the next. Tonatiuh whispered to him, but something about talking to Ouma always made Momota want to shut his persona up. He can see the specter of the wide eyed shadow creeping behind him at the best of times. Maybe that’s why all of Momota’s torn down posters had gone back up.

There’s more force than necessary behind each swing of his tennis racket. His practice opponent watches him with cool eyes when he brushes away the sweat on his forehead when they’re done. “So,” he says. Momota is always a little startled at the deepness of his voice, something he’d expect from a man and not a boy tinier than Ouma. “Decided tennis is your calling?”

Momota shrugs. “Not really. Just felt like I should show up to practice more.”

“Well, you’ve definitely been doing that.”

A few long seconds later, Momota asks, “hey, Hoshi, you used to get into fights a lot, right?”

Shame and irritation twist together. “Key word is ‘used’ to.”

“No, I’m not fucking judging your or anything, it’s actually,” Momota rubs the back of his head. “Think you could teach me to fight?”

Hoshi takes a lot of convincing. The girl who sits in the back of his class with red eyes takes even more but of a different kind.

Momota says, “it’s for self defense.”

She says, “if you’re going to lie—”

“There’s someone I wanna protect.”

Hoshi refuses to train with him on days they have tennis practice. He tells Momota he’ll run himself ragged. Momota meets with Harumaki and her red eyes after he finishes putting his racket away.

The workouts are easy, all things considered. There’s not much to think beyond strikes and instincts when Harumaki increases the power behind her blows. The afterglow where his pulse slows and his body aches and he groans when he thinks about trying to explain his bruises away is hard. Momota can hear his persona again, and it tells him just how broken both his teachers are. The words he offers them probably aren’t enough to repay for his lessons, but they catch both of them off kilter enough that they let him come back.

Harumaki tugs at her hair a lot whenever Momota tries to say what he thinks she needs to hear. She still hurries away from his desk whenever Shuuichi or Akamatsu enter the room. She understands the situation.

Shuuichi is catching on, too, and he tugs at his bangs when they walk to school together. It’s a nervous habit he’s picked up since throwing his hat away, and Momota can’t help but wonder if Shuuichi sometimes feels his shadow bubbling up. He doesn’t ask.

“So, um,” Shuuichi says. “I know you’ve been really busy with the tennis team, but I feel like we haven’t really hung out for a while. Not that I think you should skip practice or anything, but…”

Shuuichi has a habit of forcing Momota to say the words he wants to get out. It never bothered him before, but every scream of his sore muscles reminds him how much harder he has to try than Shuuichi at everything. “Yeah, guess we haven’t,” he says. “Sorry about that, man. But you know. Stuff comes up sometimes.”

“Ah,” a new ache arches through Momota’s mind. “I… yeah, you’re right.”

Shuuichi spends the rest of the day staring at him with puppy dog eyes that only grow wider when Momota asks Harumaki to eat on the roof with him. Akamatsu confronts him for Shuuichi, and he waves her off. If he gets stronger, everything will be better for both of them. All the bad feelings will go away on their own, and everything will be better, even if it means Shuuichi will be a little lonely until then. All the things his shadow said about Shuuichi will go away.

Momota falls into a pattern and can’t help but admire his reflection. Underneath the bruises from Harumaki’s punches, he’s starting to look something like the figurines lining his shelves. It feels good until Ouma makes a half admiring, half teasing comment. There are people around, and Momota hisses, “don’t say shit like that.”

Ouma grins. “I’ll save it for when we’re alone, then.”

Akamatsu rolls her eyes. Shuuichi flushes. Hoshi tells him he seems distracted in practice.

It all comes together when he asks Harumaki if he can borrow her brass knuckles. She says no. Momota takes them anyway. They’re easy to hide, and he knows all it will take is one night in the TV world for him to prove everything to himself. Harumaki can kick his ass for stealing from her later.

The electronics section is pretty quiet when it’s not full of a questionable number of teenagers all crowding around the TVs. Momota takes a second to look both ways, and he does notice one other teenager in a uniform from a school he doesn’t recognize lingering nearby.

The stranger notices him and gasps. “Ah, M-Momota-kun, I can explain!”

Momota is bewildered as to why this inhumanly pale stranger is suddenly tripping over their words to explain themselves to him. Then, “Wait. Kiibo?” The stranger nods. Momota says the only thing on his mind. “Holy shit.”

One frantic group call later, and the whole group is together to fuss over Kiibo and his not quite human appearance.

“Wha—how did—” Chabashira stammers.

“You can leave the TV?” Shuuichi asks. “How long have you been able to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Kiibo says. “I never tried it before today.”

“But what spell did you cast to make you look like a human?” Yumeno asks.

Kiibo proudly places his hands on his hips. “It took a little effort, but with enough training, I have transformed myself in order to fit in among human society. So please do not treat me any different than any of your other peers.”

“The robot invasion really has started,” Ouma says. “Aww, and it’s so boring, too.”

Akamatsu ignores his comment. “Okay, no, Kiibo-kun, it doesn’t just work that way. Are you staying here? If you do where are you going to live? Do you need to eat? Or, uh, charge?”

The specifics are barely hammered out. It’s decided he’ll stay at Akamatsu’s house, and she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes as she tries to think of a story to tell her cousin.

Ouma says, “man, this is crazy! It sure is a good thing that Momota-chan happened to be shopping for a new TV right in the nick of time.”

Akamatsu is too wrapped up in her private struggles to notice, and Chabashira is busy cooing encouragement at her. Shuuichi hears, and Momota says, “lucky timing, I guess.”

Rank 3

Miraculously, Akamatsu’s cousin accepts Kiibo’s sudden presence in their home even after Akamatsu stumbled in trying to think of a last name for him. Kiibo is excited about everyone and everything, and Akamatsu looks exhausted when she drags her feet into class the next day. She slumps down in her chair, presses both hands to her face, and says, “it took so long to convince him coming to school would be a bad idea.”

“Ah, yeah,” Shuuichi says. “That would probably lead to a lot of questions. But your cousin…?”

Akamatsu throws her hands in the air. “She took his side!”

“She doesn’t know he’s a robot, though, does she?” Momota asks.

“No,” Akamatsu says. “At least I hope not. He said some weird things at dinner, so I think she might be suspicious.”

Shuuichi offers her a sympathetic smile. “Well, for better or worse, we won’t be able to focus on him right now. The school camping trip is in a few days, so—”

“Camping trip?” Akamatsu asks.

“It happens every year,” Momota says. “We go to a mountain, pick up trash, cook our own meals, stay over night and go home the next day.”

“Some parts are more fun than others,” Shuuichi says. “Right, Momota-kun?”

“Uh,” he can’t help but look away. “Yeah.”

Akamatsu is off in her own struggles, too far away to notice the tension from the other day. “Obviously we can’t bring Kiibo-kun on something like that, but maybe he’d be happy enough if we let him come with us to buy supplies for cooking or something.”

Kiibo is enthralled in the grocery store, zooming from one shelf to another to examine all the things humans eat. He spends an unnecessarily long amount of time touching every individual piece of fruit even with Akamatsu hovering over to him to prevent too many odd stares.

Ouma doesn’t seem nearly as invested in his discovery the other day as Shuuichi is. He giggles happily to himself at each increasingly odd ingredient he slips into Yumeno’s bag. Momota feels like he should say something about the impending disaster, but he can feel familiar anxieties creeping around the corners of his mind that signal Shuuichi is nearby.

His soft voice is at Momota’s side. “Hey, um, is it okay if I talk to you about something?” Shuuichi’s eyes dart down an aisle. “Maybe in private?”

Momota’s plan failed. Things aren’t better yet. “Think I should probably stay here. Keep an eye on Ouma.” He nods to the boy in question, busy beaming in satisfaction as he plucks far too much squid from the shelf.

“Ah, good point,” Shuuichi says. “But I just wanted to ask—er, no,” he bites his lip. “I wanted to say that even if it’s not what you were expecting, I’m really glad you’re part of the team. I don’t know if I handled things well before—you know with your shadow—so I’m really glad everything worked itself out.”

Each word is punctuated with a nervous chime, but all Momota can say is, “yeah.”

He knows he’s being stubborn. Shuuichi is suffering, staring at the ground and wondering how to phrase the simple thing he really wants to ask (“Can we be friends again?”), and Momota can feel his shadow laughing at him.

Kiibo convinces Akamatsu to buy him brightly colored candy he can’t eat. Ouma has slipped far too many volatile ingredients into their supplies. No more is said.

Hoshi and Harumaki both ditched the trip, and Momota envies them with each piece of trash he’s forced to pickup as they scour the side of the mountain. He doesn’t think he appreciates nature more—just wishes people would be less assholish about where they throw their garbage.

Ouma raced off to start preparing food for them as soon as they were allowed to call it quits for the night. Momota and Shuuichi sit across from each other quietly at their table. From the cooking site, Chabashira’s voice rises in horror at something Ouma’s done. The smell wafting towards them is downright noxious. Momota chances a glance towards Shuuichi busy with chewing his lip to tatters. He doesn’t think he could eat anyway.

Akamatsu lets out a long sigh. “Alright, I’m done. I had to clean up an entire bicycle some jerk decided to throw away today. I’m not dealing with this little,” she waves her hand between them, “breakup or whatever.”

Momota’s eyes widen at her choice of words. “Wha—?”

Shuuichi stammers, “A-Akamatsu-san—” and shoots a nervous look towards Momota. “Um, sorry, I guess you’re confused. Momota-kun and I aren’t fighting or anything like that.”

Akamatsu’s expression shows she’s less than convinced.

Ouma sings, “It’s ready!” Piping bowls of something are placed in front of each of them.

“Um,” Yumeno says. “It’s probably edible. I think.”

“Tenko wouldn’t chance it.”

Shuuichi asks if there’s anything else to eat. Her attention is off of him, but Momota can’t help sneak looks at Akamatsu. Is that how she sees their relationship? Is that what everyone sees?

He can’t hear what’s being said. When he tunes back into reality, he registers there’s food in front of him. Momota doesn’t taste the first bite or the second or any of them until Shuuichi shouts, “M-Momota-kun! Don’t eat that—”

Ouma’s voice sounds like he’s underwater. “At least someone appreciates my cooking!”

It hits him all at once. Whatever slime masquerading as food he just tried to ingest is fighting back. Momota jerks out of his seat and takes off towards the bathrooms at full sprint. He makes it to the bushes nearby.

His throat burns. Shuuichi’s hand is on his back, and his voice is sharp as he addresses someone in the distance. “It’s not funny, Ouma-kun.”

“Not my fault he actually ate it!”

Momota stays bent over, hands on his knees until his stomach stops trying to implode on itself. “Fuck…” Shuuichi is saying something comforting. Momota says, “Fuck… fuck Ouma…”

“Yeah,” Shuuichi agrees flatly.

Only a few more sick coughs come up. Shuuichi stays at his side. “I…” Momota manages, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Shuuichi says. “Ouma-kun—”

“No, not for that, just,” Momota rubs the back of his head. “You know the other stuff.”

Shuuichi’s brow is furrowed. “Momota-kun?”

“I’ve been a jerk the past few days,” he says. “And you don’t deserve it…”

Shuuichi is quick to come to his defense. “What? No, you haven’t. Like I said, I’m just glad you’re back, and,” he tugs at his bangs. “Ah, I’ve been too clingy lately, haven’t I? Sorry. I think after you were kidnapped I—”

“Shuuichi,” Momota says. “Trust me. It’s not you.”

His words don’t seem to do anything to alleviate Shuuichi’s confusion, but Momota starts their walk back to the table. The girls have gone, and Ouma is beaming ear to ear as he announces they’ve gone to beg for scraps from other groups, but there’s plenty of curry left if they’d like some.

Momota tells him to shut up.

Shuuichi’s eyes narrow. He very calmly grabs one of the untouched bowls. Ouma barely manages to dodge out of the way of his throw. When the girls come back to deliver the bad news, Ouma is in tears and Momota can’t stop staring at Shuuichi in awe. He bursts out laughing.

Momota finds the situation slightly less funny when they’re in their tent and hunger has set in. Ouma whines, “I’m staaarving!”

“And whose fault is that, dumbass?”

“Well, why didn’t one of you bring snacks?”

Shuuichi sighs. “We’ll just have to hold out for breakfast tomorrow, so let’s try and get some sleep.”

Shuuichi dims their light and lays out flat on his back at Momota’s side. Ouma sniffles, but does the same on Momota’s other side. In the dark, Momota remembers Akamatsu’s words. He sees his shadow’s yellow eyes. Ouma’s turned away from him, but Momota bores holes into the back of his head.

“Momota-kun?” Shuuichi says. “Aren’t you going to lie down?”

“Uh.” Momota doesn’t think he can. He suddenly wants to be out of the tent, out of his own skin. But Shuuichi is staring at him in concern. “Um, are you guys, you know, comfortable?”

“No!” Ouma says. “There’s a big rock over here. Saihara-chan scoot over.”

Shuuchi rolls his eyes as he shifts further over on his side. Ouma looks at Momota expectantly. “Uh, wait that’s not what I meant.”

Ouma glares at him suspiciously. “I’m not giving you my pillow if that’s what you want.”

“No, idiot, it’s not—”

“D-Don’t c-call me an idiot! If you do, I-I’m g-gonna—waaaaahhh!”

“Guys,” Shuuichi says, voice cutting through Ouma’s sobs. “Can we just sleep already?”

“Well, I’m trying to,” Ouma says. “But Momota-chan won’t give me enough room.”

Momota is thankful for the dark, and moves a few inches closer to Shuuichi, mumbling something—he doesn’t even know what—under his breath. Momota still can’t bring himself to lie down. He takes a deep breath, “are you guys… really okay with sharing a tent?”

“Yup!” Ouma says. “Wait, you’re not going to kick me out just because I’m in a different class, right?”

Shuuichi mumbles, “we could…”

“Meanie,” Ouma sniffles. “At least Momota-chan loves me, right?”

Momota doesn’t answer. Being caught outside of their tents is an excellent way to get punished, but every inch of him feels too hot and there’s almost no room to breathe in the tiny space with the three of them. Ouma calls, “Momota-chan?” again, and he forces himself to lie down.

“I’m—” he starts to say. “J-Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“Only if you tell me a bedtime story!”

Ouma whines for a while longer but eventually settles into quietness. Shuuichi stills on his other side, and Momota stares up at nothing for a long time.

Momota hears Ouma shift, and he can’t help himself. “Hey, Ouma. You awake?”

“Ugh,” he rolls over to face him. “You wanna talk now? After telling me to shut up and go to sleep a hundred times?”

He does have a point. “Just,” Momota says. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

“Say anything about what?” In the fleeting light cast by the moon streaming through the seams in their tent, Ouma’s face is half obscured and confused.

Tonatiuh whispers to him that it’s genuine, and Momota fidgets, feeling his face grow hot. “You know—about me.”

“What do you want me to say about you?”

“I… don’t know.”

Ouma huffs. “Well, when you finally do know what you want, let me know. Maybe there will be a parade.”

Ouma’s about to turn away from him, and for some reason Momota knows he can’t let their conversation end here. “Hey, Ouma, I’m being serious.”

“I’m serious, too,” he says. Momota hears him shift against the stiff fabric of his sleeping bag, and then Ouma’s fingers are pressed to his face. Right where… Momota flinches away. Ouma says, “so shut up and go to sleep.”

His own bed that night feels so good, but Momota can’t help but stare out at nothing again.

Rank 4

Ouma’s words come back to him at odd moments. Mostly late at night when he stares at the faded glow in the dark stickers he had plastered to his ceiling as a child. Sometimes in class when he taps his desk with his pen in a steady rhythm that always gets on Akamatsu’s nerves. And other times when he meets with Hoshi or Harumaki and gets a nasty bruise as reward for spacing out.

Momota does know what he wants. He wants to be strong and brave and have all the little problems—why he wanted to run from the tent, why Shuuichi has to be lonely sometimes—go away. That’s all he’s ever wanted. What does Ouma think he wants?

Momota’s in the middle of tapping his pen when a girl who looks a lot like Akamatsu bursts into their class. “Hey, Kaediot!” she shouts. “Kaediot!”

Akamatsu buries her face in her hands as the girl rushes over to her desk, her platform heels clacking with every step. “You guys have probably heard of my cousin before,” she says. “This is Iruma Miu, my—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she says. “I don’t give a shit about your fuck buddies.” She leans down and whispers far too loudly, “Kiibs is a fucking robot!”

Akamatsu pales. “Uh, what? Haha, no he’s not. Don’t be…” She looks to Shuuichi and Momota for help.

“Robot?” Momota says. “There’s no such thing as robots.”

“W-Who’s Kiibo-kun?” Shuuichi chimes in.

Iruma narrows her eyes. “Alright, so you’re all fucking liars.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Akamatsu asks, looking around in the hopes that all of their other classmates have written off whatever they might have heard as Iruma’s usual rambling. “At home?”

“Oh, you better believe we’re having a talk,” Iruma says. “You better have a damn good reason for why you’ve been hiding the only fuckable guy in town from me.”

“The—what?”

The report Akamatsu gives them the next day is strange. Iruma isn’t only okay with her discovery. She’s ecstatic. So ecstatic in fact that there’s an incident later that week wherein Iruma tried to bring him to school, was politely asked why she brought a stranger into the classroom, and proceeded to go on a lengthy and colorful tirade. Akamatsu admits she’d be more annoyed if the cell phone recordings that came out of the occasion weren’t so hilarious.

With the camping trip over, they can focus on fussing over Kiibo in whole. Iruma accompanies them, and Momota makes sure to stay a few bodies away from her at all times to avoid the spit that flies every time she opens her mouth. Ouma doesn’t. “Hey, pig, only open your mouth if you’re going to do something useful with it.”

Momota can’t help but do a double take at each vile thing to come out of Ouma’s mouth. Iruma doesn’t seem to mind, for her part, but Momota can’t quite match up the Ouma slinging some of the foulest insults he’s ever heard with the one speaking quietly to him in the tent. It was nothing but a few confused words as they talked passed each other, but Momota can’t recall the event without feeling his face burn.

But things are better. They are. And no one’s paying him an ounce of their attention as they all coo over Kiibo and his new wardrobe. Iruma’s compliments are the loudest, and she attaches herself to his side, announcing that she’ll be his arm candy. Kiibo says thank you and then reminds her he cannot eat candy. Momota does his best to discard the vulgar comment Iruma makes in response to him.

She slaps Kiibo’s metal chest. “Now that you’ve got your human shit together,” she says. “I’m gonna crank up your robot shit to maximum fuck yeah.”

Her words mean little to Kiibo, and Akamatsu steps in. “Miu’s pretty good with tech stuff.”

“Pretty good!?” Iruma huffs. “Listen, I know I’ve got the body and the personality, but I’ve more than got the brains, too. So what do you want? Lazers? Machine gun? The ability to see through people’s clothes?”

“Th-That last one sounds highly inappropriate!” Kiibo says.

“Yay! Now Kiiboy will finally be useful!” Ouma cheers.

“I was always useful!” Kiibo says. “And my name is Kiibo, not Kii—”

“And the cow will have a purpose, too.”

“C-Cow?”

Iruma turns out to be harder to avoid than Momota would have thought. Her ravings from the day she brought Kiibo to school have turned her into something of a minor celebrity around the town. With the murders forgotten over the months, it seems like almost anything can be turned into news.

Momota finds it hard to care about until Shuuichi calling him late one rainy night wakes him. “Momota-kun, did you get Akamatsu-san’s text?” Momota knows it’s urgent when Shuuichi doesn’t bother with hellos.

“I haven’t checked my phone. Did something happen?”

“The midnight channel.”

All conversation stops until Momota makes sure he gets a good look at the fuzzy outline on the TV. “Who is—”

“Akamatsu-san is convinced it’s Iruma-san,” Shuuichi says. “And she fits the pattern, doesn’t she?”

Shuuichi has his theories. Everyone at the group meeting the next day says they’ll definitely catch the culprit before anything happens this time. Momota doesn’t listen to any of it. Iruma’ll go in the TV, and they’ll go after her, and Momota will figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do on the team.

He doesn’t say any of that aloud, though. Akamatsu never shies away from complaining about her cousin, but her eyes shine with a determination when she announces that they’re drawing a line here. Kiibo chimes in.

All seems said and done, and Momota’s busy wondering if he could schedule in extra practice sessions with Harumaki in the event of the inevitable. Kiibo calls out to him when he gets up to leave, “Momota-kun, would you mind staying for a bit? There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Uh sure, what’s up?” Momota says. Despite the human shape of his features in this world, Kiibo is made of metal, and Tonatiuh has nothing for him. Momota will have to figure out this conversation on his own. Then again, he finds himself blundering through most things while his persona’s voice gets drowned out somewhere in the background of his mind.

“I have a confession to make,” Kiibo says. “I apologize if I have been rude to you in the past. It was entirely my own frustrations.”

Momota can’t recall a single time Kiibo did anything to him. He also knows he doesn’t think of Kiibo much at all, but he keeps that part to himself. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he says. “Everyone has shit they deal with sometimes.”

“I know, but this is very specific to you,” Kiibo says. “When I saw Iruma-san on the midnight channel with Akamatsu-san, I took some time to evaluate my feelings.”

“Oh, well, if you’re that into her, just say fucking say something, man. I’m sure she—”

“I-It’s not that!” Kiibo says, face flushing red. “I just consider Iruma-san to be a very good friend, even if I have known her for a short period of time. When I think about the possibility of her being kidnapped, I become afraid I will not be able to help her as…”

Momota has no idea where he’s going with this. “Yeah?”

“I know with your powers, it is illogical to continue bringing me into battle,” he says. “And I realize I have been harboring resentment towards you because of that.” Kiibo bows his head. “I apologize for my jealousy.”

“You’re… jealous of my persona?”

“I am afraid I have been.” Kiibo goes on, explaining the finer points, and Momota numbly follows along. “However, I promise that I will endeavor to make myself useful in other ways.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.” Momota gives him the barest encouragement he can, but Kiibo doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re the only one who can do your role,” Kiibo says. “So I will try to find a new role only I can fill, in turn.”

Momota only ends up meeting with Harumaki once to return her brass knuckles. She scowls at him and smacks his shoulder. No more plans are made.

Iruma’s fuzzy outline is fuzzy one day, two days, three days, until it bursts to life. The midnight channel has no off button, and Momota throws his coat over his TV on the off chance his grandparents walk in and take the images on his screen the wrong way.

Akamatsu starts up the group call and demands they go into the TV the next day.

Rank 5

Iruma’s kidnapping derailed whatever plans had been made to upgrade Kiibo, and the group waits around the electronics department while Akamatsu searches the rest of the store for a makeshift weapon for him. Kiibo assures them he was built to withstand the attacks of shadows and with his brand new baseball bat at the ready, he will surely be an asset to the team. A quick scan over him that Momota quietly runs inside the TV world casts doubts he decides to keep to himself.

Finding Iruma in the vastness of the TV world is easy. Momota thinks he could spend hours on his own exploring every crack and crevice of the infinite landscape, alone, but they didn’t come here for that. The structure Iruma’s psyche has built is giant, pink, and makes Momota’s ears burn.

“Uh, well,” he says. “I definitely found her.”

Akamatsu’s face is flushed pink when she hesitantly asks if he’s absolutely sure this is the right place. A few moans of unknown origin drift out to them, and Kiibo says, “this is a very strange building, and it sounds as if the people inside are in pain. I hope Iruma-san is alright.”

Ouma snickers. “Oh, I’m sure Iruma-chan is having a great time. I’m a romantic, so I would go somewhere else on the second date, but I guess we have no choice!”

“Ah, wait! Tenko’s master said she should stay far away from places like this,” Chabashira says. “But… if it’s for Iruma-san’s safety…”

“I-I’m also not sure about, um,” Shuuichi’s voice gets quieter the longer he talks, his embarrassment overtaking him. “A l-love hotel…”

“Love hotel…” Kiibo says, feeling out the foreign name. “Is this a housing structure for human bonding?”

Ouma starts giggling. “Something like that,” Shuuichi answers him.

“It’s okay, Kiibo,” Yumeno says. “I don’t get it either.”

“Oh, maybe Yumeno-san should stay back then to preserve her innocence,” Chabashira says. “Tenko thinks maybe just the boys should go.”

“I’m fine with that,” Ouma says.

“That seems illogical,” Kiibo says. “But I will do my best to save Iruma-san.”

Chabashira frowns. “Actually, Tenko changes her mind. The girls should go save Iruma-san, and all the gross boys can wait outside.”

“I’m fine with that, too!”

“Guys,” Akamatsu says. “That’s enough arguing. We’re all going, and that’s that. Even if it’s,” a particularly loud moan interrupts her. “Uncomfortable.”

Momota does his best to keep them on track, deeply regretting his ability to see every inch of the towering hotel. Managing six people proves to be for the best as it distracts from the odd noises and inescapable mood music flowing through the walls. He’s not the only one taking charge of directing their movements, as Akamatsu keeps a close eye on Kiibo and his awkward at best contributions to each battle. His resistance against the attacks of shadows appears to be true, but there’s little he can do than smack already downed shadows with his baseball bat.

“Kiibo,” Momota says. “I know you wanna help, but you gotta fucking—”

“I know!” he says. “I promise I will try harder!”

“Ha! Isn’t that what every girl wants to hear?”

Iruma’s shadow is clad in only a pink bikini and wastes no time spouting off an increasingly obscene volley of comments at Kiibo that fly over his head. It’s definitely the real shadow, but Momota senses something else strong nearby. “Guys, stay on guard. There’s something else—”

“Aw boo, and here I was hoping to give you a little surprise,” the shadow says. “Oh, well, I don’t mind if you wanna skip the foreplay.” The lights flicker. The shadow vanishes with them, leaving behind a towering snake like shadow. “Just kidding! Thought you might wanna warm up with a few toys before the main event.”

An initial overview shows that the snake is stronger than anything they’ve faced so far, and it gives them no time to react before it curls in on itself. A strange mist flows out from it, and Akamatsu shouts, “Momota-kun, what’s going on? How bad is it that we all breathed that in?”

“I did not!” Kiibo says.

“Brag about it.”

“I am not bragging, I am just informing Momota-kun that—”

The snake twists again. The mist it secretes this time is bright pink in color, and everyone except for Kiibo goes quiet as it passes over them. He calls, “Momota-kun, what is—”

“Fuck! Kiibo, run!”

Kiibo jerks at his voice and barely dodges out of the way of the fireball ripping past him. He looks around hurriedly for the source, but only sees Yumeno staring ahead in a daze. Her eyes are tinted with a dull pink, and Kiibo ducks, the tip of his metal hair the only casualty of her second attack. “Yumeno-san! Please stop!”

“She’s not gonna fucking listen!” Momota yells back. “They’re all under some shitty charm spell!”

Kiibo holds up his arms just in time to brace himself against a strike from Chabashira. “What do I do about that?”

The familiar patterns coming off of everyone have shut down completely, leaving only static. Even if the lone unaffected had been someone with high endurance like Chabashira or regenerative abilities like Shuuichi, the situation would still be a disaster. If this goes on any longer, Momota knows that Kiibo’s ducking and dodging is going to meet a bad end.

“Perhaps I should have said this earlier,” Kiibo says. “But my strength and speed are actually only that of one of your elderly citizens!” Momota takes too long to answer him. “Momota-kun! Please I need—”

“I’m thinking!”

Kiibo has no inherent abilities to remedy the situation, but someone else—“Shuuichi!” Momota shouts to him. “Shuuichi can fix this!”

Shuuichi is preoccupied with trying to turn Kiibo into a lightning rod. “How do I get him to do that?”

That answer remains elusive. Momota feels his panic starting to rise as each push he makes to pierce through the fog clouding over them is met with more resistance. He’s on his own like he had wanted so badly before. Kiibo is looking worse for wear, and calls his name again.

There’s no muscling his way through this, and Momota relies on the one power he has. He closes his eyes and focuses, taking in every inch of the battlefield, the snake still twisting, and their friends turned enemies and all of their powers. “Akamatsu’s bag,” he says. “She picked up a bunch of shit earlier—see if there’s anything you can use!”

“I will try!”

Kiibo isn’t strong or fast, but he is heavy. One awkward tackle pushes Akamatsu off her feet. Kiibo reaches for her bag, even enduring whatever magic she sends directly into his face as he rips it from her shoulders.

He jumps away from her, eagerly rummaging through the bag. Momota calls, “There should be, like, some soda or shit. I know it’s weird, but it should work!”

Ouma takes the opportunity to attempt to pull the bag from Kiibo’s hands right as he pulls something distinctly soda can shaped from it. Kiibo seems to be at a slight loss as what to do with it and is halfway through attempting to smack Ouma upside the head with the can before Momota shouts to him again. “Fucking get him to drink it!”

Their actions have thoroughly shaken up the can, and Ouma is drenched as soon as Kiibo’s fiddling snaps the seal open. The effect is instantaneous, and every part of Ouma’s mind that had been clouded comes back into sharp focus. Momota had never felt quite comfortable prying into Ouma’s thoughts with the words of his tiny shadow echoing back to him, but for the moment, it’s pure relief to feel that connection again.

Ouma blinks at Kiibo staring at him suspiciously for signs of change, then notices the state of his once white shirt. “Eww! I’m all sticky! Kiiboy, what did you—”

Blinding white light shoots towards them to signal Akamatsu’s counterattack. In that fraction of a second, too many things happen. Momota senses exactly what is about to happen—perfect precognition of their deaths flashing through his brain—and he doesn’t even understand his own movements as he throws out one hand. “No!”

Purple shields flare up in front of them, leaving Ouma and Kiibo to stare in awe as the beams of light wither to nothing against the barrier. Kiibo recovers from his shock first. “How did you do that?”

“Uh.” Momota isn’t entirely sure, but he knows whatever power he summoned drained him. “Not sure, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do it again anytime soon. Just fucking focus on curing Shuuichi.”

Kiibo chirps a quick, “Right!” in confirmation, while Ouma remains silent. It takes some doing, but with Ouma’s help and a plan of action, Shuuichi is sprayed in the face by another can of soda, much to Ouma’s joy.

From there, it all comes together, and the snake shrinks under their assault once its trick falls apart. Akamatsu lets out a sigh, “that was a fight… also, uh, why are you guys…?”

Shuuichi flushes. “It doesn’t really matter, but maybe it might be nice to take break for the day so Ouma-kun and I can get cleaned up.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree,” Kiibo says. “I would like to find Iruma-san today, but I believe recharging after that last fight might be for the best.”

The plan is agreed to easily enough, even if part of Momota wants to push forward and unearth whatever other powers must be buried somewhere within him. He’s lost in his thoughts, and Ouma takes the opportunity to ensure they’re the last two in the TV world while the others exit.

“So,” he says. “How did you put on that little lightshow?”

Momota raises an eyebrow at him. “I dunno, but I’m gonna try and figure it out.”

Ouma hums. “Maybe I asked the wrong question. Why did you do that?”

For some reason the answer to that question is immediate. “You would’ve fucking died if I didn’t.”

“Then I guess you saved me again,” Ouma says with a smirk. “You’re becoming an excellent underling.”

“You could say thank you.”

“I could.”

Ouma slips back through the TV.

Momota is eager for their second excursion and busies himself every battle trying to support the others in ways he isn’t even sure are possible. The fights until they’re faced with Iruma’s shadow fly by with ease, and each nod of praise for his actions only fires him up more and more. Suddenly the entire battlefield feels different; he isn’t stuck on the sidelines—he’s in charge of everything.

Iruma’s shadow is hard to look directly at for a few reasons, and it becomes even harder once the real one breaks down crying under barrage of insecurities. Kiibo and Akamatsu are quick in their support, but not quick enough to avoid the inevitable.

The shadow tells her how unlovable she is—how everyone wants something from her and then is satisfied to kick her to the curb. Somewhere in the middle of Iruma’s unintelligible sobs, it transforms.

The fight is one of endurance, and Momota can’t help but feel a little cocky when he’s able to summon whatever power he used before to shield everyone from a particularly strong attack. All things considered, he finds it easier than the snake that had come before.

Momota makes the decision to save the bragging for after Iruma tearfully comes to peace with herself, Akamatsu and Kiibo at either side of her. He waits for the three of them to leave before smirking at Ouma. “So, feel like saying thanks now?”

Ouma gives him an amused look while Shuuichi jumps to respond. “Yes, I don’t know how many times you saved us.”

Momota laps up Shuuichi’s babbling praise. Ouma says, “Good things come to those who wait.”

Rank 6

The midnight channel is empty static the night the rain clears. Iruma and her newfound persona are safe at home. Momota goes to bed with a grin on his face.

Going into the TV is still tiring, and he thinks he’ll reward himself with sleeping in that Sunday morning. He pulls a blanket over his head to block out the sirens rushing outside his window. It’s harder to ignore his phone, especially when he sees it’s Ouma of all people on the other end. Momota’s voice is slightly muffled against his pillow, “What do you wan—”

“Check the news.”

Ouma hangs up. Momota would write it off as a prank if it wasn’t for the void of emotion in his voice, and Shuuichi calling right on his heels. “Momota-kun! I-I don’t know what happened, but we’re all meeting up in the food court at—”

Momota fumbles with the remote control to his TV, flicking through channels until Shuuichi’s words make sense. “Calm down, dude. What are you—”

“—found at nine this morning. It is believed the discovery of the body was delayed due to the fog. The connection between the victim’s death and the murders this spring is still—”

Shuuichi says, “There’s been another murder.”

Iruma is alive and well at the group meeting, sitting between Kiibo and Akamatsu. But even she has nothing to say as everyone stays quiet until Shuuichi sprints to the group. “I-It was definitely murder,” he says all in one breath. “They were found on a power line, too, just like the first two victims.”

Akamatsu shakes her head. “How did this happen? Was there someone else in the TV that we missed?”

“No,” Momota says quickly. “Iruma was the only person in there.”

“My powers are not as advanced as Momota-kun’s,” Kiibo says. “But I also did not detect anyone else.”

“Maybe the culprit threw them in after we all left with Iruma-san?” Chabashira asks. “Like right before the fog came in?”

“Nyeh,” Yumeno says. “How are we supposed to stop something like that?”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s the case. I’m still trying to get information, but from the police report, there was an identifiable cause of death this time.”

“So they were killed on our side?” Akamatsu asks. “But why would they do that?”

Iruma says, “I dunno much—”

“We already knew that,” Ouma chimes.

“—but I know if I was the fucking killer, I’d be getting pretty pissed off at all my victims surviving. Maybe they just said ‘fuck it’ ‘cause the TV was blue balling them.”

Shuuichi winces. “If that’s the case, what are we supposed to do? We can’t save the victims if they’re being killed in the real world.”

Momota presses his fists together. “We’re not gonna fucking think like that. We just gotta try harder and find the killer before they can strike again.”

“That does sound like the only thing we can do,” Akamatsu says. “We’ll just try to solve the mystery with what we know so far and try and help the police.”

Ouma hops up from his chair. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Hey! Sit your ass back down, you fucking gnome,” Iruma says. “Not that you’ll have anything useful to say, but—”

“I’m planning on doing lots of useful things,” Ouma says. “Come on, Saihara-chan! Let’s go be detectives!”

He runs off, Shuuichi futilely calling after him, “Ouma-kun!”

Chabashira crosses her arms. “Just like a boy to leave us with all the work.”

“We’ll just do what we can on our own,” Akamatsu says. “Hey, Saihara-kun? Can you go see if you can get more information from the police? Anything will help.”

“I’ll try.”

Shuuichi’s efforts are rewarded, and the next day he reports that there’s been an arrest. “This isn’t known to the public yet,” he says, keeping his voice low. “But a girl our age—she’s actually from our school—confessed to the murder.”

Momota’s eyes widen. “The killer’s someone we go to school with? How the fuck is that possible?”

“Who is it?” Akamatsu asks.

“I actually got a picture of her,” Shuuichi says, reaching for his phone. “Here.”

It’s hard to describe Shirogane Tsumugi as anything but bland. She features are soft but not overly so. Her glasses are unique but not particularly interesting. Her gaze is devoid of purpose but not in a way that would draw attention. Everyone hums and haws over how she seems so familiar, but they can’t recall anything about her. Momota’s too busy thinking about how he heard the thoughts and feelings of his classmates everyday and somehow missed a murderer.

“But if Shirogane-san confessed,” Chabashira says. “Then does that mean she’s done? Are the killings over?”

“She’s currently in police custody,” Shuuichi says. “And given how long it’s been since the last two murders, the police are pretty eager to name her the culprit.”

“So she’ll go to jail, and then we’re done, right?” Yumeno asks.

“That seems to be the case.”

Ouma has been quiet since he ran off the other day during their meeting. “Why did she confess?”

“I,” Shuuichi says. “I don’t know. Maybe she realized she couldn’t kill anymore because of us.”

“But she killed without the TV,” Ouma says. “Were the police closing in on her?”

Shuuichi frowns. “Not exactly…”

“Then what’s the motive?”

Iruma snorts. “Killers like her are fucked up. That’s the motive.”

“No, I don’t think that’s what he’s talking about,” Kiibo says. “Ouma-kun, you’re wondering about the motive behind the confession, right?”

“Yup!” he says. “As a liar, I cannot for the life of me understand why someone would tell a truth that harsh willingly. If you want to out a liar, you have to corner them psychologically. So,” he taps a finger to the picture. “What cornered Shirogane-chan?”

There’s a period of silence. Then, “I see what you mean,” Shuuichi says. “And I would like to know why she did it, but… does it matter? The truth’s already been uncovered, and she’s under arrest.”

“Sooo,” Iruma says. “Does that mean we’re done here or what? ‘Cause I got shit to do.”

“I guess we are,” Akamatsu says. “And if the case is all wrapped up,” she smiles up at them. “Maybe we should throw a party or something?”

The others clamor, Iruma announces they will all get wasted and Akamatsu reprimands her. Ouma pauses, but jumps into the conversation as soon as Momota makes eye contact with him.

When they call it quits for the day, Ouma says to him, “you know, it’s supposed to rain tonight.”

“You think something will—”

Ouma jumps on him. “And there’s gonna be thunder and lightning, too! Momota-chan, what will I do?”

Momota scrambles to push him off. “I—stay inside? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m scared of thunderstorms, and I live all by my lonesome!” he whines. “I’m gonna die of fear, and then I’m gonna come back as a ghost and haunt you!”

Momota is almost one hundred percent sure that he’s lying. “Yeah, whatever dude. You wanna say what you really want?”

“Nope,” Ouma says. “I like playing hard to get.”

Their conversation ends, Momota makes plans with Shuuichi that go too late, and he’s in his room, listening to the pouring rain when he sees Ouma’s text asking if he wants to hang out that night. Momota starts typing, and another reply from Ouma pops up. whoops! wrong person! sorry to get ur hopes up, momo-chan ; P

Momota scowls. The TV in his room fizzles to life. There’s no static this time, and the plain girl on the other side is clear as day. She stares dead eyed into the camera. “Will you…” she says, “come after me?”

Shuuichi reports that Shirogane Tsumugi has gone missing the next day.

It doesn’t take much to convince the others that she’s in the TV. Iruma’s presence had exploded to life as soon as Momota let his powers creep out of him. This time, he barely feels anything. He spends too much time searching, and Ouma says, “boo, did you wear out all your usefulness on the pig?”

“Shut up,” Momota snaps. “It’s just—I need a fucking hint or something.”

“A hint?” Shuuichi says. “Um, well…”

“Come on guys,” Akamatsu says. “We all go to school with her. One of us has to know something.”

“Shirogane-san, uh,” Chabashira tries. “Keeps to herself?”

“She stares out the window a lot,” Yumeno says. “Or wait. Maybe that was someone else…”

“I don’t even think she’s in our class,” Ouma says.

“Well, she’s not in my class,” Iruma says. “I would’ve noticed a chick that got off on murder day one.”

Shuuichi’s brought his hand to his chin. “Would you have, though? It seems like she just… blends in.”

They all go silent. Kiibo says, “so… do we know anything?”

Momota tries harder. There is one fleeting point flickering in and out of interest, but it sees too similar to a shadow. “Ugh, there’s something that might be her, but it’s hard to tell. It seems like a person one second and then a shadow the next.”

“That’s strange,” Shuuichi says. “But if it’s the only thing that seems suspicious…”

“It’s definitely suspicious,” Ouma says. “And if you paid attention to anything we just said, Saihara-chan, you’d know that we just locked on to our suspect.”

“Rat face sounds confident,” Iruma says. “I say we go for it. I wanna try wrecking some bitches!”

Momota strains his sense the entire trip there, trying to tease out anymore clues from the faint signal. The structure he leads them too is eerily familiar. The only one not to recognize its significance is Iruma, and she places her hands on her hips as she says, “a theater, huh? Guess little miss culprit really likes the limelight.”

Momota tries to feel out the building like he had before, searching for something to prove that it’s different from the film lot. Ouma doesn’t seem as troubled. “Ooh, I love the stage! I’m actually a world famous actor. I’ve been in plays all across the world, but then a king got assassinated while he was watching one and I had to go into hiding.”

Akamatsu ignores him. “This place does seem strange, and if it’s our best bet, I say we go for it.”

When they enter, there isn’t one voice, but many all mumbling together. Kiibo says, “Do you feel anything now, Momota-kun?” and all noise stops at the sound of his voice.

Iruma shudders. “Geeze, ‘course murder bitch has to be creepy as fuck.”

Momota agrees but focuses on answering Kiibo’s question. “There’s a strong shadow somewhere deeper in,” he says. “And… maybe a person?”

“What do you mean ‘maybe?’” Chabashira asks.

“If you could fucking see what I’m looking at here,” Momota says. “You’d say ‘maybe,’ too.”

“Aw man,” Ouma says. “Momota-chan’s going senile.”

“Shut up,” Momota says. “I totally got this.”

“I am excited to be got!”

The exploration itself goes fine. Iruma’s upgrades to Kiibo have come to fruition, and he pulls his weight quiet effectively, even if Momota notices he has a tendency to gravitate towards Iruma and whatever she’s fighting.

Everything is fine. He tells Shuuichi when he’s draining himself, lets Yumeno know which shadows to shoot with fire, and keeps a running monologue of bickering with Ouma over basically everything.

“Oi, Ouma, Chabashira’s down, can you help her out?”

“No, she’ll hurt me!”

“No, she won’t.”

“Yes, she will!”

“Alright, fine, Akamatsu’s got it. Anyway for this shadow—you fucking missed, idiot. Why didn’t you wait for me to tell you what to do?”

“Because only Saihara-chan likes being bossed around by you.”

“Hey, I’m not bossing Shuuichi around! You’re just being a brat.”

“I’m not into the brat routine, either.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about!”

Iruma lets out an aggravated sigh. “Oh my fucking God, you guys wanna bone each other! I get it! Save the fucking flirting for when we’re done with this shit show!”

The line of communication goes silent.

Momota’s entire face turns red by degrees until he’s burning too hot to keep his embarrassment silent. “W-What the fuck are you talking about!? We—what—”

He gets a lot of other half formed words out, and Iruma cackles. “Guess that answers who’s the sub.”

“Only a horny exhibitionist with more sex toys than brain cells would think something like that,” Ouma says. “I’d say you already got your brains fucked out, but it’s not like anyone would want to touch a filthy wh—”

Akamatsu claps her hands. “Okay, that is enough of that.”

“W-Wait,” Iruma whimpers. “Let him keep going…”

“Nope!” Akamatsu says.

Momota tells himself that Iruma just has her head in the gutter at the best of times, and it’s just a coincidence that he doesn’t respond to Ouma’s taunts for the rest of their exploration. There’s enough general chatter to disguise the awkward silence, and Momota has almost cooled down completely by the time they reached a large curtain.

“Alright,” he says. “The powerful shadow is definitely right behind there.”

“And Shirogane-san?” Akamatsu asks.

Momota clenches his jaw. Even this close, he still can’t tell. There’s a shadow, and there’s something else. It doesn’t feel like a person or a shadow, but something less than either.

He swallows his hesitation. “No doubt about it!”

Momota barely contains his sigh of relief that a girl identical to the one on TV is behind the curtain. There are two of her, in fact, and the only difference between her and the shadow is the glowing yellow eyes.

“Ah,” she turns on her heel to face them. “How did—”

“Are you, um,” Shuuichi says. “Are you Shirogane Tsumugi?”

She blinks at them. “I am. How did you know my name?”

Her question catches them off guard. “It—It’s all over the news,” Akamatsu says. “You’re the culprit behind the murders, aren’t you?”

Shirogane’s face pulls into a smile. “Oh, that. Yes, I am.”

They wait for her to go on, but she remains silent. “Is that,” Chabashira says. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

She shrugs. “I guess. It’s a bit surprising, isn’t it? That the culprit behind such an exciting mystery would turn out to be someone as plain as me. I don’t even have anything interesting prepared to say.”

There’s a serenity about her that puts them all on edge, and Momota can’t help but notice how dead her shadow looks. Akamatsu says, “Well, that’s fine I guess. We’re here to take you back to the real world and turn you over to the police. There’s no more running from your crimes.”

“I didn’t run, though,” Shirogane says. “It’s actually rather unfortunate that I ended up here, but I guess disappearing for a few days does make the whole thing more exciting. So maybe I should be grateful this happened.”

Shuuichi’s eyes widen. “You didn’t come here yourself?”

“She’s obviously lying!” Iruma barks. “Don’t you hear her yapping about ‘exciting’ this and that? She’s definitely just getting off on this.”

“Oh no,” Shirogane says. “I am the murderer, there’s no doubt about that, but I didn’t do it for myself.”

“What?” Momota says. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone got really excited when the first body showed up, right?” Shirogane says. “It was like something out of a TV show! Things like that never happen in boring towns like ours. Everyone was having such a good time when it happened, and I wanted to help everyone have more fun.”

“Wha—” Akamatsu takes a step back. “So you have no remorse at all?”

“Not really,” she says. “I just wanted to do my part to keep the game going.”

Ouma’s mouth is pressed into a tight line. “You think a game where you kill people is fun?”

Shirogane tilts her head. “The world thinks that. I already told you—everyone was just plain excited when the first murder occurred.”

It’s hard not to be disturbed by her words, but Momota feels something else rising up. “Guys! The shadow—”

“It doesn’t matter if people live or die,” the shadow says. “It doesn’t matter if I live or die. I have no interest in real life or in people or in myself. I play along to make things easy, but underneath the plain girl I pretend to be… I am nothing.”

Ouma stiffens in the corner of Momota’s eye. It’s hard to read whatever emotions swell out of him, however, as the shadow seems to be picking up strength.

“Everyone!” Momota shouts. “Get ready!”

The battle isn’t hard, but it is long and grueling. Shirogane’s shadow changes and reforms itself over and over, and Momota has to focus harder than normal to track its changing weaknesses. Keeping track of everyone is also a challenge, and he can only make a partial note to himself that Ouma seems to be fighting much more aggressively than usual.

“Ouma, stop it with the fucking ice, it’s going to—”

Ouma’s magic rebounds off the shadow’s new form, and he hisses as he’s pelted by his own spell. Shirogane’s shadow doesn’t seem encouraged or bothered no matter how the fight goes. It chants, “it’s lies, all lies. I only want a world of lies…”

When it finally shrivels to the ground, it disappears completely. Unlike with all the others before it, nothing is left behind.

Shirogane lets out a groan from where she had collapsed on the ground at the shadow’s transformation. “Oh… where did it go?”

“We defeated it,” Akamatsu says. “You have nothing to hide behind left.”

“I wasn’t hiding, though,” she says. Shirogane pulls herself to her feet and looks at the vast empty space where her shadow had been. “What did it say? Nothing, hmm? I don’t know, I think I’m something. After everything I’ve done, I know I can hold my head up high. Everyone knows, everyone’s excited—they’re all talking about it. It wasn’t even hard. I’ve heard so many speeches about how killing is so difficult, but if I could do it so easily, then I must be really special.” She laughs. “Maybe I’m not so plain after all.”

She laughs again, and Momota is glad Chabashira takes the initiative to take hold of her as they make their way towards the exit. Shirogane doesn’t seem bothered when they call the police and smiles faintly at them as she’s taken away.

When the police are finally gone, Iruma lets out a deep breath. “God, what a freak.”

“But now it’s really over,” Akamatsu says. “They caught her for sure this time, there aren’t going to be any more murders, and,” she claps her hands excitedly. “We can plan that celebration party!”

Everyone seems thankful for the change in subject. It’s almost sad Momota can recognize the levity is fake. There’s fear, and it’s coming off of Ouma in waves.

Reverse

Whatever party Akamatsu wants to throw has to wait. The school trip to the city is approaching, and given the situation with Shirogane, the school seems eager to get its student population away from the town for a few days.

They still have about a week before then, and Momota ends up replying to the text Ouma claimed he didn’t mean to send. The message he gets back says, i had no idea u were so lonely!!! sorry but i got lots of plans with lots of interesting people!!! but u wouldnt know anything about what thats like lol

Ouma avoids him at school. Every time Momota stops by his class, Chabashira and Yumeno tell him he’s gone to the roof. Every time Momota goes to the roof, Iruma says he fucked off to who knows where.

Ouma plays by the river on days off, but there’s no one but the stray cat to talk to. It meows and finishes eating the small pile of food someone had left for it. Momota swore he heard footsteps running as soon as he turned the bend on the path, and Ouma’s familiar presence retreats from his mind.

As the days crawl on, his efforts to reach out get more frustrated, and it becomes hard to think about the situation without feeling irritated. Ouma pushes and pulls him, and then retreats when he reaches back out. They saw their shadows together, and the power Momota was given is meant to help and hold the emotions of those around him.

Shuuichi says, “Ouma-kun’s just a private person.”

Momota says, “He shouldn’t be with me.”

The tour and lecture of the fancy city school is boring. The class representative goes on and on about hope and overcoming hardship to let your hope shine brighter until even the principal starts to seem uncomfortable. As soon as they get a minute to themselves, Iruma says, “so here’s what’s up, sluts. I did some digging, and it turns out there’s a club near where we’re staying. I say we have Kaediot’s boring party here.”

“Tenko’s master says she’s not allowed to go to places like—”

“Don’t get your tits in a twist. They serve nonalcoholic drinks for whoever wants to bitch out.”

“None of us should have alcohol,” Shuuichi says. “It’d be illegal for the club to serve us—”

“What are you a cop?”

“Uh, kinda?”

Even in the group, Ouma stands a few bodies away from him, and Momota doesn’t pay attention to whatever dumb plan Iruma’s whining on about. The implications only hit him when Iruma drags them at night to a dark building filled with loud music and flashing lights.

“Fucking sucks Kiibs couldn’t come,” she says. “I even got a private table for us, too.”

“Wha—how!?” Akamatsu says. “Do we even have the money for—”

“Calm down,” Iruma says. “I know a guy, pulled a few favors—it’s all on the house tonight.”

“Wow!” Ouma cheers. “Looks like Iruma-chan’s complete lack of shame finally paid off!”

Iruma saunters and Ouma skips, but everyone else moves with a touch of hesitance. For all Momota dreams big, he can’t help but feel out of place in the strange city and the stranger dark corner Iruma leads them to. He does take the opportunity to make sure he’s sitting next to Ouma to force some conversation, even if he can’t help but tap out a nervous rhythm on his leg.

Shuuichi’s on his other side and is the first to inspect the brightly colored drinks Iruma orders for them. He lifts up an unnaturally blue glass to the light. “Are you sure these are nonalcohol—”

“Quit being a little bitch and drink up!” Iruma shouts. She knocks back her head and whatever drink she was holding with it.

Akamatsu fusses over her, even as the others start slowly inspecting their drinks. Whatever was placed before Momota is cold and sweet, and sipping the drink is something he can focus on. When he finishes it, the lights start to seem less foreign, and Iruma is eager to replace any empty glasses.

He finishes the next one, too, and whatever comes after that. He’s halfway through another—his fourth? Fifth? Sixth?—when Shuuichi pulls at his arm. “Ah, Momota-kun, how many have you had?”

“I dunno,” he says. “Does it matter? Iruma said they’re free and no fucking—fucking—alcohol, right?”

Momota’s vaguely aware his words aren’t coming out as clearly as they should. But he feels comfortable in his own skin even as Shuuichi’s hands linger on his arm. That doesn’t stop him from pulling away to finish off whatever was left in his glass.

From across the table, Iruma jumps to her feet, pumps one fist in the air and shouts, “King’s game!”

Then there’s light. Momota groans as it falls over his face. His head hurts. He’s in his bed back at the hotel the school booked.

Shuuichi’s the one who threw open the curtains, and his face turns pink as he stammers, “A-Ah, Momota-kun, you’re—”

Momota presses both hands to his face. “What the hell happened last night?”

Shuuichi’s eyes widen. He clarifies that Momota doesn’t remember anything and then excuses himself to the bathroom. Shuuichi refuses to look him in the eyes for the rest of the day. There’s a cool ramen place Iruma found, and Momota’s slightly relieved to hear her complain about not remembering anything, too.

Ouma stabs at his bowl. On one violent thrust, he elbows Shuuichi. “Oh, Ouma-kun—”

“Aw, did I hurt poor Saihara-chan?” he says, his voice sickly sweet in a way Momota recognizes means he’s furious. “I’m sooo sorry. So, so, so sorry. I’m sorry I bumped poor, delicate, fragile Saihara-cha—”

“It’s fine, geeze,” Shuuichi mumbles under his breath.

Momota doesn’t know what’s going on, but he feels the need to step in on his sidekick’s behalf. “Hey, Ouma—”

For perhaps the first time since he’s known him, Ouma doesn’t bother to hide his emotions. He scowls, throws money on the counter, and storms out.

When they return home, Shuuichi is still awkward, and Ouma spends his days off throwing rocks in the river. The cat meows when Momota approaches, and Ouma doesn’t even turn to look at him when he calls out.

Rank 7

With the exception of Iruma, who curses darkly, the girls just giggle and blush whenever Momota tries to ask them about the school trip. Ouma’s cold shoulder has risen to new heights, but the snide comments directed at him pales in comparison to the bitterness thrown Shuuichi’s way. The strangest part to Momota, however, is that Shuuichi doesn’t seem to be upset about it.

Ouma stopped showing up at the river after too many failed conversations, and Momota crouches down next to the stray cat, offering it some companionship after he scared off its only friend. He stares off at the river for a long moment while the cat nuzzles his leg. He calls Shuuichi to come meet him.

Momota doesn’t like to think of himself as a country boy for a number of reasons, but there is something nice about sitting on the dock while the cat paces back and forth in front of him. It mews at the sound of footsteps behind them, signaling Shuuichi’s approach. They greet each other and watch the river. Momota knows there’s a lot they need to talk about, but the quiet moments like these are hard to pass up.

Shuuichi seems less comfortable with the silence and eagerly attracts the attention of the cat to give himself something to do with his anxious hands.

“Hey,” Momota says. “The way I’ve been acting lately… I’ve been really unfair to you. My bad.”

Shuuichi focuses intently on the cat to avoid eye contact, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What? That’s not true.”

“Shuuichi, you don’t need to make excuses for me, man,” he says. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve just been really cool, and I got jealous.”

Shuuichi’s head snaps up to him, eyes wide. “You’re jealous of me?” The way he says it seems like the possibility never occurred to him. “Momota-kun, that’s—I know things have been rough on you lately, but I’ve really only been able to be brave and fight with the others because of you. I… I wanted to pay you back.”

Momota frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve always looked out for me and helped me whenever I was scared or too weak,” Shuuichi says. “So when everything with the TV started, I wanted to protect you, and now that you’re helping us, um,” he looks back to the cat. “I really like that, too, because it feels like you’re cheering me on again like when we were kids and I’d get too nervous to go buy something by myself or ask the teacher a question or…” he lets out a shaky laugh, “or do a lot of things.”

All at once, Momota doesn’t know why it had been so hard to talk to Shuuichi. He claps him on the back. “Hey, I’m real proud of you. I don’t tell you that enough, do I? I guess I haven’t been paying enough attention, either. I turn my head and you’ve become a hero yourself.”

Shuuichi stammers and tugs at his bangs. “Ah, well, I don’t know about that. I still,” he bites his lip. “I told Akamatsu-san and she said it was silly, but I still like being your sidekick. I know things are different now, but I don’t want that to change.”

The cat in Shuuichi’s lap startles when Momota pulls Shuuichi into a hug. His words are slightly muffled into Shuuichi’s shoulder, but, still, Momota feels like he has to speak. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t want anything to change, either. I’ve just been really in my own head lately, and—”

“No, it’s my fault,” Shuuichi says. “I saw that you’ve been going through something, and I was too scared to say anything. I should have been there for you. I should have—”

They only stop when it seems like Shuuichi’s about to cry, which results in another hug.

It’s starting to get dark by the time Momota remembers his initial question. They’re splayed out on their backs on the floodplain, staring at the last straits of the sun retreating from the sky. “Hey, I forgot to ask. What happened at the club?”

“O-Oh,” Shuuichi fidgets with his hands. “Uh, Iruma-san wanted to play this weird game where you tell people to do stuff, and I ended up being the king for one of the rounds, which means, um,” he glances over at Momota. “The details don’t really matter, but the point is that everyone threw out these crazy suggestions about what to make other people do. I thought that a hug sounded like it wouldn’t be too big a deal, and I ended up picking your number.”

“So,” Momota furrows his brow. “We hugged? We hug all the time.”

Shuuichi’s face turns pink. “Well… You said that since I was sitting down, the best way to hug me would be if you, um, sat on top of me, a-and stayed there the rest of the night since you passed out.”

Momota blinks. “Uh…”

“It-It really wasn’t a big deal,” Shuuichi says hurriedly. “I knew you were kind of out of it, and like I said, you fell asleep pretty quick afterwards.”

“Oh, uh, is that all?” Momota coughs into his fist. “Still, sorry man.”

“No, it’s fine, but…” Shuuichi trails off, seeming to debate continuing with his next point. “If you’re wondering about Ouma-kun, well, it seemed like he thought the whole thing was funny until you started acting, um, affectionate. After that he got really quiet. I think he’s probably jealous.”

His words startle Momota into sitting up. “What? Why would he be—”

Momota cuts himself off, and Shuuichi voices his thoughts aloud. “I think he really likes you, Momota-kun. I’m not sure if he even realized it until that night.”

“Huh,” Momota says. And again, “huh…”

He and Shuuichi part on good terms with a brief reminder from Akamatsu that the fireworks festival is happening tomorrow buzzing on their phones.

Momota stares out at nothing then he fixes his gaze on the moon on the walk back to his house.

The girls are taking their sweet time getting ready for the festival. Momota wouldn’t mind normally—switching off with Shuuichi to play games with Kiibo was fun in its own way—but there’s only so long until the fireworks start, and he hasn’t seen any signs of Ouma. He knows they haven’t been friends that long, but it feels wrong not to have him pushing and pulling him through the crowded path, whining about candy, trying to cheat at games, or whatever else Momota knows Ouma would love to do.

Iruma’s crackling voice breaks whatever spell had washed over him. “Alright, feast your eyes on this!”

The girls do look pretty in their yukata, though Momota has trouble understanding why Iruma’s making such a show of it. Kiibo is all too happy to help her ego, “you look very nice, Iruma-san!”

“Kya-ha-ha! Glad to see someone has some taste!”

Yumeno grumbles. “Nyeh, this is hard to walk in, and it was so much effort to get dressed up for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason, Yumeno-san!” Chabashira says. “The point of wearing yukata is that we can make special memories, right Akamatsu-san?”

“Yeah,” Akamatsu agrees. “It’s a little silly, but it sort of makes it feel special. At the very least, I definitely know I’ll remember what it was like trying to put one of these on.”

Iruma snorts. “Geeze, Kaediot, I know your sex life is barren but talk about settling. Anyway,” she gestures to the boys. “Walking around as a group isn’t gonna get anyone laid. I say we break off into pairs.”

“Pairs?” Shuuichi says. “But there are seven of us.”

“Oh, huh,” Iruma says, noticing Ouma’s absence for the first time. “Guess the little twink bitched out. Well, shit.”

“Tenko would rather go with Akamatsu-san or Yumeno-san anyway,” Chabashira says.

“That sounds fine,” Akamatsu says. “But we’re still going to leave someone out—”

“Eh, it’s fine,” Momota says, taking a step back from the group. “There’s something I wanted to check out by myself. You guys have fun.”

Iruma takes that as the go ahead. “Then we’re down to six! Alright, Kiibs, I’m gonna show you the best night of your life!”

“Ah, Momota-kun,” Shuuichi says. “Are you…” he trails off when he catches the look in Momota’s eyes. “Well, okay. Good luck.”

Momota smiles back at him. “You, too.” Shuuichi seems confused for a second, and then realizes all at once that Momota left him alone with three temperamental girls.

Finding Ouma is both harder and easier than Momota thought it would be. Before, Momota would usually try to keep his persona quiet and the noise of the outside world out of his head. Now, he stretches it to its limits, feeling out the world around him in search of one very particular, very difficult mind.

He’s not at the festival or on the floodplain or even in his empty house. The idea strikes Momota all at once, and he hesitates only a second before slipping into the TV in the electronics department. He feels him as soon as he steps onto the landing. The trip to the film lot is uneventful, though Momota is stays wary of the shadows squirming in the corners of his vision.

The bright flashes of Ouma and his persona are like a beacon, and they’re so blinding in his mind’s eye that Momota almost misses that Ouma’s led him to a very familiar place. He pushes open a door next to a little light up sign that says “Filming in Progress.”

Ouma’s fighting a rather large shadow inside, though a quick examination shows its power level is nothing spectacular after the battles they’ve faced since first coming here. Ouma spares one glance over his shoulder with passive eyes before turning back to his fight. He’s doing fine by himself all things considered, but Momota summons his persona and showers him with a slight healing effect.

Ouma calls out, “I don’t need your help.”

“Too bad.”

Momota continues to offer directions, and Ouma replies in monosyllables. When the shadow fades, Ouma tries to walk past him as if nothing had happened. “Well, thanks but no thanks, Momota-chan. Like I said—”

“Ouma.”

“That’s my name. Glad you still remember it.”

Momota’s about to get annoyed, but then remembers what Shuuichi told him. He laughs. “Guess Shuuichi was right.”

Ouma examines his fingernails. “Right about what? Are you relying on Saihara-chan to do all you thinking again, Momota-chan? At this rate your brain’s gonna turn to mush.”

Momota ignores the insults. “He said you were jealous.”

Ouma pauses before looking up at Momota, his stare hard. “And why exactly would I be jealous?”

It’s a challenge, and Ouma has to know how hard the simple words are to say. Momota looks away. He has to try. “‘Cause—I don’t know—stuff’s complicated between us. Shuuichi’s my sidekick, and you… I don’t really know what you are.” Ouma lets his gaze fall, and Momota knows he has one last chance. “But you’re different.”

“Of course I’m different from Saihara-chan,” Ouma says. “I couldn’t live with the shame if you started calling me your sidekick or whatever.”

“You know it’s not just that,” Momota says, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re… like I said, I don’t really know what to think of you. You definitely drive me crazy, but I know I’ve stayed up way too many fucking nights thinking about why you drive me crazy.”

Ouma goes quiet. Momota tries again, “I’m gonna be honest. I have a hard time knowing what to say to you. We saw each other’s shadows and shit, so we should know each other better than anyone else, but that doesn’t feel right to me. Maybe that fucked things up too badly for whatever we are to ever be normal, but I still want to try to be… something with you.”

“‘Something?’” Ouma says. “You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet, Momota-chan.”

Ouma’s lips quirk into a smile at the taunt, and Momota feels heat start to creep up his neck. “And I have no idea what the hell to do when you say shit like that. Especially since you already…”

“I know,” Ouma says. He takes a few more steps to the exit then looks back at him over his shoulder. “What are you standing around for? If you stay by yourself, the shadows will gobble you up, Momota-chan.”

They walk together in silence. Things are better, but Momota can’t help himself. “Hey, uh, like I was saying, I don’t like when you say all that crap around other people, but when it’s just us—”

Ouma spins on his heel, eyes sparkling. “Hey, Momota-chan! I forgot to tell you but I went into the TV because I knew the fireworks festival was tonight, and the loud noises are so scary that I just wanted to run and hide!”

Momota frowns. “Ouma, I—”

“You were so mean and ditched me when I was afraid for my life because of the thunder, so you owe me!”

“Ouma—yeah… okay.”

Ouma isn’t nearly as afraid as he said he would be when they arrive back at Ouma’s house. It feels almost nostalgic when Ouma throws the tattered purple blanket over his shoulder and forces him to drink tea he didn’t ask for in the first place. They sit near the windows, and the moon shines through, lighting up Ouma’s innocent face and tired eyes.

The first firework cracks somewhere in the distance. Ouma tugs on Momota’s sleeve, happily chanting, “look, look, Momota-chan, it’s starting!”

The fireworks shine in all sorts of different colors, and Momota watches them. Then he watches the way they reflect through the glass and paint Ouma’s pale features like a canvas.

Ouma tilts his head. Momota kisses him.

“Momo—”

“Sorry.” Ouma keeps staring at him, and Momota clears his throat, looking out the window. “Uh, hey, the moon’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ouma leans his head against the window and hums.

Rank 8

Momota ended up staying the night and stretches out to work out the kinks in his back that had developed over the course of sleeping on Ouma’s ratty couch.

Ouma giggles as he pokes his head in from the door to the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine! You woke up just in time for breakfast.”

The food Ouma serves him is ashy at best, but Momota finds it hard to appreciate that bit of nostalgia. He doesn’t complain, though. Staying over was a mistake. Walking Ouma to his house was a mistake. Sitting with him at the window while he was tired and riding high on so many different confused emotions was a mistake.

But Ouma has asked him to, and so he stayed.

Like the first time, Ouma seems cheerier than normal, happily swinging his feet and babbling. Momota says, “you’re in a good mood today.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ouma asks. “There were fireworks last night, my dearest Momota-chan is paying attention to me, I’m eating breakfast.”

Momota decides to pick on the least threatening part of that sentence. “You don’t normally eat breakfast?”

“Nope,” he says. “Or at least I don’t sit down and do it unless I have a Momota-chan to entertain.”

Momota can’t help but glance around Ouma’s house, crowded with things but devoid of people. “Well, you should eat breakfast more. It’s good for you. And,” he shifts pushing at the thin blanket. “You should invite people over more.”

“Nah,” Ouma says. “I don’t want to deal with anyone whining at me to cleanup.”

“Where’d you get all this stuff from anyway?”

Ouma tilts his head to one side and then the other, seeming to debate his question. “This and that. As a supreme leader of evil, I’ve traveled all around the world and collected all sorts of stuff as souvenirs.”

Momota spares another look towards the army of cardboard. “Then why’s it all in boxes?”

“Because I hate unpacking.”

“You’ve lived here for, like, two years.”

“So I have!”

Momota thinks that’s the end of the conversation as Ouma makes a show of taking an exceedingly long sip from his drink. “But you also never know when you’re gonna move again. I’ve got some friends in the city, you know. Once they find a place, it’s goodbye to boring country life, boring country school, and boring country Momota-chan.”

“Oh,” Momota frowns involuntarily at the thought. “Is that gonna happen anytime soon?”

“Who knows?” Ouma says. “But I’m looking forward to it. I’ve always been a child of the city.”

“You were born there?”

“Yup! Ooh, I should give Momota-chan a tour one day and take him to the alleyway where I was born so he can get mugged!” Ouma giggles as Momota rolls his eyes. “Aw, come on, it’s share time, Momota-chan. I wouldn’t lie.”

“You really expect me to believe you were born in an alley? Doesn’t that mean you’re homeless?”

“Or my mom was just really bad at planning.”

Momota sighs, but Ouma’s response does give him the window he’s been looking for. “Speaking of your mom, do your parents really not care about you living by yourself? I told my grandparents about you a few times, and I swear I had to fistfight them to stop them from fucking adopting you.”

“Aw, how sweet!” Ouma says. “Tell them I say thank you, but I am perfectly fine all on my lonesome. I’m very independent, you know. Always have been! Anymore questions, Momota-chan?”

“Actually, yeah,” Momota says. “The shitty report you were on—you remember, right? It said some crap about you being in a cult. That’s all bullshit, right?”

Ouma gives him a menacing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Ouma.”

“Sorry, Momota-chan, but that information is members only!”

“Then how do you become a member?”

Ouma raises an eyebrow at him. “Wait really? Are you seriously asking me?”

Momota shrugs. “Well, yeah. Why not? Knowing you it’s probably just something fucking stupid, not anything dangerous.”

“It’s not dumb,” Ouma pouts. “And we’re not accepting new members now either. Not until we find a place in the city.” Ouma goes quiet, staring at the reflective surface of his teacup. “And then…”

He furrows his brow in frustration, and it takes Momota an achingly long time to realize what he’s doing. “Ouma, are you… opening up to me?”

Ouma’s stare is pointedly unimpressed. “Don’t act like it’s such a big deal.”

“No, it is,” Momota says. “It’s really cool actually.”

Ouma gives him a half smile. “Well, you know what they say happens if you lie too much.”

Momota doesn’t know, but then he feels a small tug from the corner of his mind. Ouma’s shadow had stared up at him with wide yellow eyes. The Ouma in front of him fidgets in a different way than he usually does. Not out of excess energy or mischief, but the discomfort of a specimen left lying raw under a microscope.

“It’s good to share and have friends you can rely on, yeah,” Momota says. “But friends don’t have to tell each other everything. We all have secrets, you know?”

“Momota-chan?”

“And it’s totally cool if you wanna keep some shit secret. If you started being honest about everything, you wouldn’t really be you. And,” he rubs the back of his head. “I guess I like the you that I know. You’re annoying a lot, yeah, but it’d be weird if you changed overnight.”

Ouma’s smile changes from exhausted to playful. “You like me just the way I am?”

“Yeah,” Momota says. Then the other meaning behind those words catches up to him. “We’re good friends, you know?”

Ouma taps his teacup to Momota’s untouched one. “The best.”

Rank 9

Things are good. Things are really, really good. The fog over Shuuichi and the fog over Ouma are both gone, and Momota can finally just breathe.

He doesn’t want to let other things go, and he walks up to Harumaki when he notices her staring intently at the school bulletin board. “Hey, Harumaki. Long time no see. What’s up?”

She gazes up at him out of the corner of her eyes. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“What do you mean?” Momota asks with a laugh. “I don’t remember doing anything cool recently.”

Harumaki tilts her head towards bulletin board, specifically a sign up sheet covered in glitter and hearts. “You’re going to. The cross dressing pageant.”

Momota has no idea what she’s talking about and glances over the tacked up piece of paper a little better. The school festival’s annual beauty pageant and cross dressing pageant that are both just jokes are accepting signups. There are four names written down for the cross dressing pageant. Ouma Kokichi, Kiibo, Saihara Shuuichi, and Momota Kaito.

Momota barely hears Harumaki as she asks, “Why did you sign yourself up? You know this thing is just a joke.”

“Uh, what?”

Harumaki starts to say something else, but Momota can’t hear her. His heart is beating fast in his ears and his thoughts race even faster. Someone must have seen them at the club or been walking by Ouma’s house or saw him at the floodplain with Shuuichi. Momota whips his head around, and though no one stands out, he can’t help but feel like everyone is watching.

Harumaki’s voice brings him some grounding again. “Momota?”

“L-Look,” he says. “This is a mistake, alright? Some asshole must have signed me up as a prank.”

“Oh,” she says. “Apparently people back out of these things so regularly they implemented a rule that if your name’s on the paper, you have to show up. I assumed you wanted to do it, though.”

Momota’s eyes widen. “What!? Why the hell would you think something like that!?”

His voice is way too loud and is attracting far too much attention. Harumaki doesn’t seem to care, though, and just shrugs. “I came to check it out because I saw that annoying girl you’re always hanging out with signing someone up. I assumed you asked her to for you.”

Iruma.

Momota rips the signup sheet from the wall. “Sorry, Harumaki, there’s something I need to take care of.”

“If you kill her, do it off of school grounds.”

Momota texts everyone that there is a life and death emergency happening and they need to meet on the school rooftops. Shuuichi shows up first, face bright with concern. He turns even paler when Momota shows him the signup sheet. Iruma’s brought Kiibo to school enough times that his presence is no longer questioned, and he can only express vague confusion at the situation. Ouma thinks it’s funny.

When the girls arrive, Momota wastes no time towering over Iruma and shoving the paper in her face. “What the fuck is this!? You better explain yourself right fucking now!”

“Momota-san, do not yell at her!” Chabashira chastises.

“No,” Shuuichi says, voice dark. “He’s right.”

Akamatsu says, “Miu, what did you do?”

“S-So I signed the idiots up for th-the cross dressing pageant,” Iruma says. “I-It was just a joke.”

“Well, it’s not fucking funny!” Momota shouts.

“Momota-kun, please calm down,” Kiibo says. “If you do not want to participate, can’t you tell someone Iruma-san signed you up?”

“No! There’s this shitty fucking rule that even if someone else signs you up, you can’t back out!”

“W-Well how was I supposed to know that?” Iruma stammers. “Th-That’s not my fault.”

Akamatsu frowns. “If there’s no getting out of it, um, well, it can’t be that bad, right?”

“Guess you guys will just have to make the best of it…” Yumeno says. “Can I go now?”

“Tenko agrees with Akamatsu-san,” Chabashira says. “Even if Iruma-san should have asked first, nothing can be done now, right?”

Ouma looks to each of the girls in turn. “Hmm, I see. Well then,” he throws his arms up behind his head. “I’ve made my decision. I’ll see you guys on stage. Don’t let me win too easily, mkay?”

As they disperse, Shuuichi places a comforting hand on Momota’s shoulder. He flinches away from the touch.

The rest of the day is a blur, even the second life and death emergency message that goes out to the group in alarm that suddenly the four girls have been signed up for the beauty pageant. Ouma’s explanation is, “Revenge and I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that Chabashira-chan will kill someone in the audience, and I want to be a part of that.”

There’s nothing to be done, and on the day of the school festival, Momota hides up on the roof and ignores every panicked text from Shuuichi asking where he is when the pageant draws closer and closer.

Momota doesn’t know what the punishment is. He doesn’t care, either. Nothing could make him get up on that stage and hear all the laughter he’s been so desperate to convince himself doesn’t exist. Momota sits with his back against the wall and his forehead on the tops of his knees. Another, quieter, more violent thought lurks in the back of his mind. He’s a coward. He’s still the weakest out of all of them. Shuuichi’s terrified of being the center of attention and he’s doing it. Kiibo doesn’t know what the hell is happening most of the time and he’s doing. Ouma’s like him and he’s doing it.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there. There’s clamoring and quiet from below in equal measure, but it all sounds like static. The door to the roof pushes open, and Ouma’s voice calls out, “There you are! Can’t believe you really missed out on all the fun.”

Momota doesn’t look up even as Ouma settles next to him. His shoes had clicked on his way over. He’s probably wearing heels. “So it’s over, then?”

“Yup, and Saihara-chan won, which is just so unfair,” Ouma says. “It’s not my fault that bitch-chan sucks at makeup.”

Momota dares to look up. Ouma’s in a bright purple frilly dress with stockings and a bow in his hair. The stage makeup is caked on his face, and whoever put on his lipstick went absolutely wild. “You, uh…”

Ouma frames his face with his hands and bats his eyes. “You think I was robbed, too, right?”

Momota tears his gaze away. “Why are you still wearing that crap…”

“‘Cause I like to be pretty,” Ouma says. “And also I don’t really care. That’s your problem. You care waaay too much about what everyone thinks.”

Momota knows he isn’t wrong and shrugs without a word in response.

Ouma sighs. “Geeze, you’re so high maintenance. But at least I finally figured it out. Honestly you had no right being as frustrating a mystery as you were. You know what you want, and you probably always have. You’re just too afraid that everyone thinks you should want something else.”

“I’m sorry I ditched the fucking pageant because I didn’t want to be a goddamn laughingstock,” Momota bites out. “Are you fucking happy?”

“That’s not the point,” Ouma sings. “And no, I’m not happy. You can keep your secrets, Momota-chan, but you shouldn’t lie all the time. That’s just not you, and if you try to copy my thing, I’m gonna get real mad and push you off this roof.”

“I’m not lying! I just—” he stops. “I know… what my shadow said, and I’m fixing all that crap, I swear. It’s just that there are some things I can’t do yet. I’m not strong enough.”

“And how will you get stronger?”

Momota sighs. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

“Well, if you want my opinion—and who doesn’t, let’s be honest—you’re thinking about it wrong,” Ouma says. “There’s always gonna be the other Momota-chan and future Momota-chan and all of them. So why do you want so badly to be the Momota-chan that’s miserable?”

“Idiot,” Momota says. “I don’t want to—” Ouma’s mouth presses to his. They part. “—be… miserable…”

Ouma is close, and Momota can feel his breath and the warmth radiating off his face. “Then why torture yourself?” Ouma kisses him again, and Momota wants to get upset and tell him anyone could come by. But Ouma’s voice is quiet, “are you done now?”

He threads his fingers through Ouma’s styled hair that someone must have attacked with hairspray, and they kiss again in broad daylight.

They have to leave the rooftop eventually, and Momota takes the hand that Ouma holds out to him. The others are all gathered together, talking cheerily among one another, and Momota greets them by waving the hand not attached to Ouma. “U-Uh, hey guys.”

Akamatsu responds encouragingly, and Shuuichi smiles. Chabashira, Yumeno, and Kiibo don’t act different one way or another, and that’s more than enough, too.

Iruma turns to Akamatsu and says, “Ha! I fucking told you they were making out on the roof! Look at space case’s face!”

“What about my—”

Shuuichi stands on his tiptoes to whisper into his ear. “Ouma-kun’s lipstick.”

Momota’s face burns as he wipes his mouth off on his sleeve. Ouma giggles, and he knows he has every right to be mad at him, but he doesn’t let go of his hand.

Rank 10

Over the months, they discovered that Shirogane wasn’t the killer behind it all. The real culprit reared their ugly head, and fog descended on the town. It’s so hard to see through that Momota almost gets lost on the well known path to Kokichi’s house. Akamatsu told them it all ends tomorrow, and today they should prepare however they need to. Kokichi asked him to stay over, and Momota couldn’t say no.

The inside of Kokichi’s house is warm and familiar, and Kokichi does his best not to burn the dinner he makes them with mixed success.

“I’m definitely improving,” Kokichi says when Momota gets through enough bites without complaint. “But man, having to feed Momota-chan is making my food bill skyrocket.”

“It’s not my fault you have to make everything three times before you get something edible.”

“It’s called practice. I am practicing, Momota-chan.”

They talk about this and that, and Kokichi shouts “Oh!” and rushes over to one of his many boxes once they’ve finished eating. His hand emerges with something small and shining. “Viola!” Kokichi rushes back over to him. “Hold out your hand and close your eyes.”

Momota has some reservations over those instructions after coming to know Kokichi as well as he does, but he still follows them only after a minute of hesitation. Kokichi doesn’t place whatever he was holding on his hand, instead sliding something onto his finger. Momota blinks his eyes open. “A ring?”

Kokichi says, “Momota-chan, will you marry me?”

“Wha—dude!”

Kokichi starts giggling. “Juuust kidding! Man, could you imagine how embarrassing it would have been if you said yes?”

Momota rolls his eyes and looks down at the ring. It’s not particularly fancy, only being a thin gold band engraved with a sun. “Oh, huh. This is actually alright.”

“‘Alright?’” Kokichi scoffs. “I’ll have you know it’s perfect. Look,” he tugs another small charm from his pocket and affixes a similarly styled pin with a moon on it to his scarf. “It’s like a slightly worse version of mine!”

“What are you talking about? Mine’s obviously way better.”

Kokichi sticks his tongue out. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re jealous.”

Momota laughs. “What are these for anyway?”

“They’re for our undying and passionate love. Duh.”

“No, dummy, I mean what’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is that we’re in love. Duh.”

“Kokichi.”

“Momota-chan.”

Momota sighs. “Christmas is in a few days, dude. You better not be trying one up—wait.” Momota slides the ring off his finger. “No, we’re not doing that.”

Kokichi’s eyes fill with tears. “You’re rejecting me?”

“I’m not taking my damn Christmas present early, that’s for sure,” Momota says. “Kokichi, what the hell is this?”

“Fine, don’t take your present,” Kokichi says. “See if I care.”

He snatches the ring from Momota’s palm and is about to flee the table when Momota catches his arm. “Kokichi, calm down. Nothing’s gonna happen tomorrow besides up finally taking the killer down. Everything’ll be fine.”

“It’s good to be optimistic,” Kokichi clicks his tongue. “But I’ve always preferred practicality and—”

“You’re not gonna get killed,” Momota says. “I promise you that’s not gonna fucking happen. I’d die before I let that shit happen, you hear me?”

Kokichi says, “in that case, maybe you should take the ring back.”

“I was just being dramatic.”

“You shouldn’t,” Kokichi says, elbowing his shoulder. “That’s my thing.”

“Then I’ll be serious,” Momota says. “We’ve been through a lot of shit together, alright? There’s no way I’m giving up right at the end, and I’ll be damned if the most annoying, most stubborn person I know gives up either.”

Kokichi gives him a half smile. “It’d be a pretty crappy story if the villain died right before the end, huh?”

“Then you better not be an idiot and let that happen.” Momota reaches to Kokichi’s hand and curves his small fingers over the ring. “Give this to me after the fight. I promise I’ll take it then.”

“But what if I do something really annoying between then and now?”

“‘If?’”

“Nooo, don’t be mean to me! We’re having a moment!”

Momota laughs as Kokichi swats his shoulder. He pulls him closer for a kiss, and while Momota can still feel his fear and worry, there are other things, too. But mostly there’s Kokichi in his arms.

His persona changes and shines even brighter than it once did. Kokichi’s twirls around it, flickering this way and that as it lets off light like the full moon.