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Groaning, Kokichi let his head fall back, banging into his car door’s window. What am I doing here?
The hot June sun baked the gas station’s pavement. Just beyond the fueling lines stood a general store with a faded storefront. Being high noon on a Tuesday, only a few other people had stopped to refuel. Car exhaust lingered in the air like campfire smoke. Cars zoomed past on the highway. Cicadas hummed.
Kokichi leaned against the car. Glanced to his left. Through the car window, Kokichi could see Himiko sitting in the passenger seat, fanning herself with a hand. Kokichi sucked in a breath through his nose. The sharp acidic tang of gasoline burned his nostrils. Kokichi scrolled through his phone’s pictures. He stopped at one photo Himiko had texted him last night.
An adult woman with brown hair a few inches past her shoulders was resting a hand on Himiko’s shoulder. Beside them, a boy with a crew haircut frowned. Brown eyes, high cheekbones, and heart-shaped faces shared by all. In a couple hours’ drive, Kokichi could confirm their similarities in person. He’d be meeting Himiko’s family in person.
Exhaling, Kokichi raked his fingers through his bangs. How did I let Himiko rope me into this?
Kokichi lay on his stomach on his bed. Music blaring through headphones, Kokichi typed on his laptop. The portable fan hummed at full blast; Hope’s Peak had yet to fix the dorm a/c. To keep cool Kokichi wore a white muscle shirt and shorts. “Let’s see…” The leader consulted his psychology textbook beside him. Munching on Cheetos, the leader typed away on the laptop, orange dust coating the keys.
Someone pounded on the door. Growling, Kokichi took off his headphones. “I swear, Kee-boy, if you try exhaling as a fan again to cool me off, I’m gonna duct tape your mouth shut.”
“No, it’s me, Himiko.”
Oh shoot! Kokichi stuffed his bowl of Cheetos and laptop underneath the bed. After wiping off his forehead sweat, Kokichi brushed his cheesy fingers against his shirt. Himiko knocked again. “Hold on, I’m still decent! ‘Kay, enter!”
The mage opened the door. Her face looked especially flushed, most likely due to wearing her stuffy uniform. Kokichi lay on his side, propping his head up with a hand as if posing on the beach. “Hey, babe!” Kokichi’s elbow nudged his textbook off the bed. It noisily fell between the bed and wall. Kokichi winced. “F-for today only, I’m offering a two-for-one special!”
“Nyeh?”
Kokichi smirked. “I’ll strip off my shirt and shorts, if you take off one article of your clothing.” He winked.
Exhaling, Himiko shuffled to Kokichi’s desk chair. She mumbled, “Your dorm is really hot…” She shucked off her blazer and then laid it over the chair’s back.
“Hey! Choosing your blazer is cheating!”
Himiko picked up Kokichi’s water gun off the chair and tossed it on his desk, crushing his doodles. She plopped into the chair. “Cheating? What are you talking about?”
Tears welled in Kokichi’s eyes. “So cold…”
“Whatever…” Like a tossed aside ragdoll, Himiko lifelessly stared off at the far wall. There stood Kokichi’s TV stand. Game systems, controller wires, and accessories lay in a mess.
Kokichi scooted to the edge of the bed. “Something up?”
“My mom…” Biting her lip, Himiko balled her red skirt. “Mommy isn’t doing too well again. Her lungs have always been bad.” She swallowed. “She’s really sick. So I’m gonna see her tomorrow after class. You’re coming, too. We can get an excused leave of absence from school and stay at my house for two, three days.”
Kokichi snorted a laugh. He blinked a couple of times. “Is… is she dying of cancer after months of chemo?”
“Nyeh? No, it’s not like that.”
“Dying as she waits for a double lung transplant?”
“No.”
“Dying of–”
Fists clenched, Himiko launched from her chair. “Why are you asking such awful things?!” She glared with red-rimmed eyes.
Brow raised, Kokichi examined his nails. “Then I don’t see why you need me. No matter what the context is, this is still ‘bringing boyfriend home to meet parents’ shebang.” Jutting out his chin, Kokichi crossed his arms and looked away. “Nuh uh, don’t wanna, can’t make me!”
Himiko waved a hand. “That’s long overdue anyways. Today’s what? June 8th, right? June of our third year at Hope’s Peak. We’ve been dating for a year and a half and you’ve never so much as spoke with my mom or younger brother over the phone. Why wouldn’t you wanna see them?”
“Oh, yes, let us count the reasons together.” Lips pursed, Kokichi leaned forward, counting off with his fingers. “One, I’m a liar. Two, I prank people for kicks. Three, my talent and background are dubious at best and there’s waaay more I’m sure, but don’t kid yourself. It can all be summed up with I’m not the type of boyfriend one takes home.”
“You’ll have to meet them eventually.”
“Assuming we’re serious about this relationship. Like suuuper serious.”
Eyes narrowed, Himiko placed her hands on her hips. “What does that mean?” Kokichi gulped. “For the past two years, you’ve been practicing magic under me. We’re known as the duo Magic Mayhem. In exchange for being my apprentice, I promised to consider joining your organization. Of course we’re serious. Why would you think otherwise?”
Kokichi gazed at the floor. The fan hummed. He could feel sweat sliding down his back.
Head bowed, Himiko wrung her hands. “Are you thinking about leaving me, too?”
“Hm? What was that?”
Sighing, Himiko ran a hand through her hair. “Look. This is my mom, okay? I’m going. I want you to come with me. In case…” Her voice thickened. “In case she’s in a really bad state, I’ll need you to support me. I gotta be strong for Mitsuo. Just what are you making that face for?” Brows furrowed, Himiko shook her head slightly. “Don’t you have a family? People you love, people you worry about when they were sick? You gotta understand what I’m feeling.”
Kokichi shrugged. “I’ve never needed a family. So, no, I don’t.” He lowered his gaze. “You really shouldn’t expect so much from a liar like me.”
“Not need family? How can you say that?” She balled the front of her sweater. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Mommy, too… Or you…” Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Kokichi’s stomach clenched. “C-crying makes your face look really ugly. All red and blotchy. So you should stop. Anytime now.”
Himiko wiped her eyes, but new tears quickly replaced them. Shoulders shaking, Himiko buried her face in her hands. “I-I know I promised not to say things are a pain anymore. To live life facing forward, but if another person left me I’d be so lost.” Her voice quavered. “All alone…”
A memory overtook Kokichi. Him sitting among the trash in an abandoned, graffitied alley way. Stomach growling. People passing by on the street just beyond him, too busy to stop.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go, all right? Just stop crying already.”
A sob escaped Himiko’s lips. Her body trembled.
Exhaling, Kokichi stood and raised his arms to the side. “C’mere.” Himiko buried her face in his shoulder. She clung to his muscle shirt. Snot and tears cooled his sweaty skin. Sighing, Kokichi rested his chin on Himiko’s shoulder. Rubbing her back, Kokichi soothed, “You’re not alone. You’ll always…” …have me. Kokichi bit his lip. “I’m here now.”
Jaw clenched, Kokichi shoved the gas nozzle in the car. The machinery whined as it filled the black mini-van with gas. Sighing, Kokichi pulled at his white golf shirt’s collar. Cars raced past on the highway. Cicadas buzzed. Kokichi put his sneaker on the car’s foot rest and returned to studying pictures of Himiko’s family. Her mother always had a hand or an arm around someone, smiling broadly. Joined in on Himiko in making silly faces. Her brother – Mitsuo, Kokichi remembered – stood apart, never touching anyone. Shoulders stiff. Barely smiled.
Pinching his nose, Kokichi breathed in the tang of gasoline and car exhaust. These pictures barely give me any information to analyze them. Kokichi rubbed his bleary eyes. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before.
Himiko climbed out of the passenger seat, shutting the door shut behind her. She wore a sailor dress with a pinstripe bodice and a navy-blue gown. “Are you done pumping gas?” When she glimpsed his phone, Himiko scowled. “What are you so worried about? I told you a million times you’ll get along with them.”
“And just how are you so sure?”
Himiko smirked. “Cuz my mom’s a basket case and my brother’s a jerk.”
Kokichi narrowed his eyes. “Gee, thanks. I feel soooooo much better. Maybe now I won’t turn the car around and leave you here.”
“No, please don’t leave–!”
“Get off me!”
Stiffening, Kokichi and Himiko looked up. A family of four was exiting the general store, bags of groceries in hand. A middle school boy had jumped onto the back of his older brother. “Pesky brat,” the elder boy grumbled as he smiled. He whipped back a bag of groceries, hitting his younger brother. “Get off.” They laughed as the older boy staggered forward.
Their father glanced up from opening the trunk. “Knock it off. You’re crushing the bread.”
“Riku, leave Haruto alone!” Sighing, the mother shook her head. “You boys… If you don’t quit horsing around, your father and I will eat your ice cream we just bought.”
“Okay…” the sons chorused. Riku, the younger boy, dashed towards the trunk. As he passed, Haruto slammed on Riku’s sneaker, giving him a flat tire. Riku fumbled forward, shoe half off. They burst out laughing again.
Lips parted, Kokichi gazed upon the scene. All other noise – the cars, the gas pump, the cicadas – faded away. Only their laughter rang through his ears. His eyes misted over in memory.
“My family is a lot like them.”
Wide-eyed, Kokichi snapped his head around. Himiko tilted her head. Smiled. “And they’re not too scary, right?”
Kokichi winced. Not that freaky mentalism of hers again. Always picking up on what I’m feeling. Scowling, Kokichi shoved his phone into his blue shorts’ pocket. “I’m the supreme leader of evil. I fear nothing.”
Himiko rolled her eyes. “Then why do you hate the idea of visiting them so much?” Not meeting her eyes, Kokichi watched the few other people refuel their cars. “Kichi, please. What’s wrong?” She rested a hand on Kokichi’s bare arm. Despite the heat, Kokichi shivered. “Tell me how I can help. You can trust me, can’t you?”
Kokichi’s mouth went dry.
The machine beeped. Kokichi yanked the nozzle out from the car and shoved it into the holder. “Get in the car before someone recognizes your ugly face.”
Himiko sighed. She slipped into the passenger seat and closed the car door.
Kokichi turned the car right, entering a cobblestone driveway. He shifted into park. Laughing, Himiko jumped out of the passenger seat onto the grass. “We’re here!” Kokichi gazed out the window, studying the two-story home. Yellow siding with dark blue shutters. Kokichi inhaled deeply. He opened the car door and followed the mage.
Suitcases in hand, the pair walked along the curved sidewalk to the house. Overhead a massive cherry bloom tree swayed in the breeze. A tire hung from a branch by a frayed rope. Dandelions covered the small yard. They stepped under the porch’s gable roof.
As Himiko rang the doorbell, Kokichi hung back. His gaze roved over the house. Upper-middle class home, middle of a development in a suburban area. Anything else? The white lattice underneath the house was broken in several places. So was the gutter running along the house’s roof. Why aren’t these fixed? A loss of finances after buying the house perhaps? But not enough to move…
The door opened. A woman with brown hair a few inches past her shoulders stood in the entranceway. A taller boy lurked behind her. “Himiko, honey. How I missed you!”
“Mommy!” Himiko embraced her.
Drawing back, they kissed each other’s cheeks. Mrs. Yumeno smoothed out Himiko’s hair. “Oh, just look at you. You’re too skinny!” She pinched her daughter’s cheeks. “You need more meat.”
“Aah’ve bin eaten well…”
“Eating well by eating lots of cookies, you mean, I’m sure.” Mrs. Yumeno patted her cheek.
Kokichi fiddled with his suitcase’s handle. Did anyone ever pinch my cheeks like that before?
The boy placed a hand on his hip. “Working hard, sis?” He smiled. “Nah, don’t answer that. I know you. You’re hardly working.”
“I told you, Mitsuo. I’m busting my behind as Magic Mayhem.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” laughed Mitsuo as he hugged her.
The magician turned to her mother. “How are you? Are you doing okay?”
Mrs. Yumeno shook her head. “Hush now, don’t worry about me. I don’t know what Mitsuo said, but you know he’s a drama queen.” Said brother rolled his eyes. “I’m just–” Mrs. Yumeno coughed into a fist. Cleared her throat. “I’m fine. So I don’t want to hear another word.” Himiko frowned but nodded. “Now where’s this boyfriend of yours I’ve heard endless stories about?” All three looked up to see Kokichi standing by the porch’s edge. “Kokichi, right?”
Kokichi dropped his suitcase to regally raise his arms. The suitcase crushed his big toe. Tears pricked his eyes. “B-behold, I am Kokichi Oma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader! I have recruited your daughter because her magic skills are of great use to my organization.”
Mitsuo snorted. Mrs. Yumeno laughed, “Yes, you’re Himiko’s assistant. Magic Mayhem.” Kokichi pouted. “Well don’t stand there like a lost little lamb. Come in, come in!”
Kokichi entered a small foyer with a staircase leading upstairs on the right. Next to the door was a small key table. A single framed picture showed the smiling Yumeno family. At the end of the hallway, a paneled glass door led to the kitchen. The smell of baking pastries hung in the air. Central air hummed. As per custom, Kokichi doffed his shoes.
Mrs. Yumeno pressed a hand to the front of her one-button pink sweater. “I’m Himiko’s mom.” While of short stature like her daughter, she was still roughly an inch taller than the leader. Mrs. Yumeno gestured to the boy wearing a gray t-shirt and shorts. “This is Mitsuo, her brother.”
Mitsuo stared down at Kokichi. “You’re a midget. Are you even five feet?”
Kokichi narrowed his eyes. Like your, what, five-foot five height is so tall. “Better short and good looking than having monkey ears.” Face burning, Mitsuo pressed his jug-handle-like ears to his head. Kokichi grinned. Damn, got it in one. I’m on fire.
Himiko glowered at her boyfriend. Mrs. Yumeno laughed as she shut the door. “There’s nothing wrong with Dumbo ears, Mitsuo.”
“Mooom…”
“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Kokichi. How was the drive here?”
Kokichi cut Himiko a glare. They had missed two exits because Himiko, lazy girl she was, had never learned how to drive and didn’t know the route home. “It went as expected.”
Sighing, Mrs. Yumeno cupped her heart-shaped face. “So you did get lost. I guess Himiko will forever be directionally challenged.”
“Nyeh.”
Kokichi picked up his suitcase and one of Himiko’s bags. “Himiko, where’s your room? Let’s put our stuff away.” Mitsuo reached out his hand to take her suitcase. Jaw set, Kokichi held it closer to himself. The two men stared off.
“Oh, Kokichi.” Mrs. Yumeno pointed upstairs. “There’s a spare bedroom on the right you can put your belongings in. I put a new toothbrush, paste, and towels in the bathroom, but let me know if you need anything else I hadn’t thought of.”
Pushing past Mitsuo, Kokichi headed up the stairs. “‘Kay, got it. C’mon, Himiko.” Nodding, Himiko followed after him.
After putting Kokichi’s things away, Himiko headed towards a white paneled door at the other end of the hallway. “Here, this way.”
A gold frame caught Kokichi’s eye. “Hm?” He stopped. Photos of the Yumeno children lined the wainscoted walls. Starting at elementary school age, the pictures chronicled their childhood. In one a toddler Himiko sat on a stool, pulling out her necktie, scowling at the camera. Kokichi smiled. She still makes those ugly faces today. Kokichi wandered back towards the stairs, examining every picture.
In the center of the hallway was the only candid photo. An American man sat on a swing, a boy toddler sitting in his lap. Cheeks puffed out and ruddy, a young Himiko pushed on the swing from behind. The toddler gazed up at the man holding him, smiling wide. The man had his head thrown back, laughing. Kokichi narrowed his eyes, studying the man. Red haired. Squarish face. Bumpy, hooked nose. Brown eyes. Could that be…?
“That’s my dad.”
Himiko stood next to him, gazing at the picture. “Don’t think I ever told you. Died of a heart attack when I was ten. Mitsuo was only six.” The light in Himiko’s eyes dimmed. “Been eight years now…”
“Whaaat? He couldn’t have been older than late thirties, early forties. How could he die of a heart attack?”
Himiko bit her lip. “Stress.” After a long moment, she returned to her room.
Kokichi frowned. Stress? He inspected the photo. Could he have been laid off? No, people don’t keel over dead from losing a job. Kokichi bit his thumb nail. Family troubles, too? Non, non, it’s gotta be more than that, worse than that…
When Himiko called, Kokichi approached her bedroom, suitcase in hand. She nodded at the bag. “You can just leave out here.”
“Ohhh?” Kokichi grinned. “What naughty things do you have in your bedroom? I wanna see, I wanna see!”
Scowling, Himiko snatched her suitcase, opened the door just wide enough to squeeze through, and shut it. A lock turned. Snickering, Kokichi retrieved his lockpicks from his sneaker. Popped open the door. “So where do you keep your sexy, candid pictures of me?”
Kokichi’s eyes scanned the room. An army of stuffed animals had conquered the bed, desk, and bookshelves. Glass display cabinets held trophies from magic competitions. Owl bedsheets. Fuzzy carpets. Cartoon bunny decals on pink walls.
Kokichi raised a brow. “Where’s your cradle?”
“Nyeh!” Himiko shoved him into the hallway. “Get out!”
The magician closed the door, but Kokichi bodily pushed against it. The two struggled against each other, neither giving an inch. “Y’know your husband won’t tolerate such cutesy, kiddy things in the bedroom.”
“I-I know that!”
“Lemme trash ‘em for you–”
“You’re going to be her husband?”
Kokichi stilled. With no resistance, Himiko slammed the door closed, banging her head. “Ow!”
Mitsuo was climbing up the stairs. Kokichi waved a hand. “Chillax, ‘kay? We’re only high schoolers.”
He crossed his arms over his gray T-shirt. A rock band’s logo was imprinted on it. “So you’re just fooling around with her.”
Smiling, Kokichi glanced over his shoulder to Himiko’s bedroom door. “I prefer calling it giving her a hard time. But fooling around works, too.”
Mitsuo narrowed his eyes. Kokichi gazed at him evenly, finger to his lips.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Yumeno called. “Everyone, come on.”
Kokichi made a sweeping gesture to the stairs. “After you.” After a moment, Mitsuo descended them. Kokichi watched his retreating back, hand over his mouth. Insightful little pest. I’ll have to be careful around him.
“Mmm.” Kokichi savored a bite of Mrs. Yumeno’s lasagna. The leader had sampled the finest pasta dishes in Italy while working with DICE, but this was some of the best he’d eaten in Japan. “Whatcha put in here?”
Across the table, Mrs. Yumeno nodded, holding up her fork of noodles. “It’s an old family recipe passed down through the generations.”
Must be from Himiko’s foreign dad. Kokichi cast his gaze around the kitchen. Family, huh?
White cabinets, stained from years of use, lined the far corner. The sun warmed the orchids in the windowsill above the sink. Blue damask wallpaper covered the backsplash, adding a bit of color. A section of the dark counter extended from the wall which acted as an island. The smell of noodles and pastries wafted from the oven.
“Can’t tell you the recipe,” Mrs. Yumeno continued. She smoothed out the pastel blue tablecloth. “But I do plan on teaching Himiko once she’s married.”
Face reddening, Himiko stared down at her bowl. “Give it a rest, Mommy. It’s not funny.”
Grinning like a gossiping fifth grader, Mrs. Yumeno shoved her daughter’s shoulder. “Yes it is,” she laughed, eliciting a small cough. She cleared her throat. “And it’s my prerogative as your mother.”
“So!” began Mitsuo. He stabbed his pasta with his fork. “That clunky minivan in the driveway. Is it yours?”
Himiko rolled her eyes. “He calls it the Omobile. After his last name Oma and–”
“The Batmobile?” asked Mitsuo.
Kokichi gasped. “Oooh, you know American DC heroes? Do ya read the comics?”
“Spiderman’s the best. Lame Batman doesn’t even have any superpowers.” He cut a glare at Kokichi. “And neither do you, ‘Supreme Leader’.”
Kokichi gripped his fork so hard it dug into his palm. “My fav’s Joker, not Batman.”
Laughing, Himiko recounted, “Kokichi got the van from one of those last person to remove their hand wins contests. Won it cuz he sang ‘This is a Song that Never Ends’ for three hours.” Scowling, Kokichi kicked Himiko underneath the table. “Ouch!”
Brows furrowed, Mrs. Yumeno rubbed her chin. “Couldn’t have sung for three hours straight though. Then the singing would have become background noise to the other contestants.”
“Um, yeah, actually.” Kokichi scratched his head. “I stopped and started signing at random intervals.”
Grinning, Mrs. Yumeno flashed a thumbs up. “Thatta boy. That’s how you break people.”
Chuckling, Kokichi made a thumbs up of his own. What is up with her? This… This kook? Skewering his lasagna, Kokichi narrowed his eyes at Himiko. And don’t think you’re getting off scot-free, my beloved mage. Kokichi sweetly smiled at her. “I can recall a time when Himiko attempted singing in public. Our roommates and the two of us had gone to karaoke…”
Himiko flinched. Blushing, she balled the gown of her sailor dress. “D-d-don’t believe a word he says. He’s lying.”
Smirking, Mitsuo laid down his fork. “He’s our guest, Himiko. Let him speak. Let’s add yet another tale of embarrassing moments to the list we got on you. Like the time we went to the amusement park and the staff mistook you for my younger sister. You threw such a fit.”
Kokichi reached out his hand. “Ooh, ooh, hold on. I got a great one. When Himiko and I went to the amusement park, she–”
Shoulders stiff, Himiko fired back, “What about the aquarium incident? All day long you kept whining and whining to see the sharks. Then when a shark hit the glass in front of you, you wet yourself.”
“I told you! I fell backwards on my butt and spilled my juice on my shorts.”
“Uh huh.”
“I did!”
Hand over her mouth, Mrs. Yumeno mournfully shook her head. “Now, now, Mitsuo. You shouldn’t lie. I expect better from you.”
Mitsuo glared at his mother. “You’re the one who backed up into a car in Wal-Mart’s parking lot because you were staring out into space.”
“Hmph!” Chin raised, Mrs. Yumeno smoothed out her gray slacks. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never done that. Ever. Really, it’s very childish to make up stories.”
“Nyeh? I didn’t hear of this. So that’s the third time?”
“No, fourth,” corrected Mitsuo. “Last week she backed into an old grandma’s car.”
“Mommy! How could you?”
“Okay, look here!” Leaning forward, Mrs. Yumeno jabbed her finger. “That ‘little old lady’ was speeding like a maniac. Totally wasn’t my fault.” She blinked. Then pounded the table. “Shoot!”
The Yumeno siblings burst out laughing. After a moment, Mrs. Yumeno joined in. Their peals echoed through the house. Kokichi sat at the table’s other end, watching them. His chest ached. Biting his lip, Kokichi clenched and unclenched his blue shorts, knuckles turning white.
A timer rang. “Oh!” Mrs. Yumeno gasped. Sucking in a breath triggered a coughing fit. As she hacked, the Yumeno children exchanged glances. “Sorry. That’s the cupcakes.” Mrs. Yumeno stood and walked towards the kitchen. She paused by Kokichi’s chair. Smiling, she rubbed his shoulder then patted it. “There’s reason to celebrate after all.”
Face flushing, Kokichi glanced down. Not really. But a smile tugged at his lips.
Once the cupcakes had cooled, Mrs. Yumeno iced them with a piping bag. Humming, she frosted with cupcakes with practiced ease. The dollop of white icing was nearly as large as the cupcakes themselves. She passed them out.
Kokichi peeled back the yellow wrapper to reveal a chocolate cupcake. “Ooh, my fav.” He bit into it. The chocolate cupcake crumbled while the vanilla icing melted in his mouth. “Oh maaaan. This is crazy good! Even better than Teruteru’s or Kirumi’s cupcakes!”
Mrs. Yumeno settled into her seat. “Because it’s homemade and therefore extra sweet. Sweeter than anything you’d find in a pastry shop.”
“Ohhh. I get it now. People say homemade food is the best, but I always thought it was cuz it’s comfortable eating at home or cuz it’s made by a family member. Y’know, overly sentimental. I didn’t know it actually meant the taste was different.”
Mrs. Yumeno’s brows furrowed. Then she smiled. “You got icing all over your face, hon.”
After everyone had eaten their cupcakes – Kokichi had inhaled two in a matter of seconds– Mrs. Yumeno pushed aside her plate. Sighing heavily, she bodily rested on the table. “Cooking took all of my energy. I don’t wanna do dishes… Mitsuo, you clean up.”
Mitsuo rubbed the back of his neck. “Would it kill you to do one chore around here? Don’t see why I have to do it all the time.”
“Cuz I’ll beat you black and blue if you don’t.”
Kokichi froze. Couldn’t breathe. His body wound tighter than a bowstring.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mitsuo muttered, a faint smile on his lips. He gathered the dishes. When Mitsuo passed by his mother, she continued to lie still. She didn’t raise a hand. Kokichi slowly exhaled. He didn’t catch Himiko frowning at him.
As Mitsuo placed the dishes in the sink, he called, “Hey, sis. It’s been forever since I last saw your magic in person. Why don’t you put on a magic show?”
Rising from the table, Mrs. Yumeno clapped her hands. “That’s a great idea.”
Himiko turned to Kokichi. “What do you–?” Kokichi glanced up. He was in the middle of reaching for another cupcake. “Kokichi!” Scowling, Himiko snatched up the plate. “You had enough already! Save some for the rest of us.”
“Noooo!” Tears streamed down Kokichi’s face. “If I don’t get another I’m not gonna do nothing.” Himiko rolled her eyes. Huffing, she placed one by him. “Yaaay!”
Shaking her head, Himiko returned upstairs to retrieve the necessary props. Mrs. Yumeno left for the adjoining living room to make space. Dishes clattered as Mitsuo loaded the dishwasher.
Humming, Kokichi turned the cupcake one way and another, studying it. He undid the wrapper and took a bite. Sweetness dissolved over his tongue. Closing his eyes, a smile bloomed across his face. Homemade really is the best.
Grinning, Himiko held up a Ziploc bag with a card inside. The red backed card faced Mrs. Yumeno and Mitsuo who sat on the family room couch. Chin raised, Himiko swept out her other arm. “Behold as the amazing mage Himiko cast a spell before your very eyes. This isn’t Mitsuo’s card, the eight of clubs, buuut…” With deliberate slowness, Himiko turned the bag around, revealing the card’s face: the two of spades, complete with Mrs. Yumeno’s signature. “Mommy’s card!”
They gasped.
Free hand on her hip, Himiko grinned and threw her shoulders back. “Nii hee hee!”
Smiling, Kokichi gazed upon her. Every bit of confidence of a supreme leader. He closed his eyes. Envisioned Himiko dressed in a DICE uniform accepting Kokichi’s offered hand. My future queen. Face reddening, Kokichi bit his lip. Stop that.
Himiko glanced back at Kokichi who stood by the stone fireplace. Kokichi flashed a grin. Nodding, she stepped towards the low coffee table in front of her. A purple plastic box had a slit in its lid. “Now Mitsuo’s card will be…” Himiko reached to put her hand into the box.
“Quiz time!” cried Kokichi. “Guess what’s inside.”
Himiko went rigid. Glaring at him, she deadpanned, “What did you put in here.”
A thrill of nerves shot down his spine. Bouncing on his toes, Kokichi clapped. “Guess, guess, guess!”
“Flowers!” Mrs. Yumeno suggested.
Kokichi shook his head. “Too smooth.”
Mitsuo sighed, “A toad.”
“Too rude!”
Through gritted teeth Himiko hissed, “It better be Mitsuo’s card.”
Hands on his hips, Kokichi leaned forward. He smirked. “Whatsa matter? Scared?”
Eyes narrowed, Himiko drew herself up to her full height. Her brown eyes sparked with fire and brimstone. “I can handle anything you throw at me.”
“Then prove it. Stick your hand inside.”
Himiko hummed deep in her throat. She tore off the lid, then threw the box at Mitsuo. Mud, dirt, and worms sprayed Mitsuo in the face. “The hell?!” Crying out, he scratched at his eyes.
Himiko covered her mouth with a hand, her shoulders shaking from suppressed laughter. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”
“Your face…” Mrs. Yumeno panted between coughs. “…was priceless.”
Kokichi bent over, holding his stomach. “Ahahaha! Way better than I imagined!”
Mud smeared Mitsuo’s cheeks like a tribesman. “Annoying runt.” A worm fell into his lap. It wreathed as though dying. “Ugh, disgusting.” He stood up, brushing off the dirt and worms onto the carpet.
Kokichi held out a hand. “Hey now, hey now. You make a mess, you gotta clean it up.”
“Ah, it’s all right.” Mrs. Yumeno waved a hand. “Nothing a little vacuuming can’t fix. Thankfully most of the mud landed on Mitsuo, not the couch. But if it stains, it’ll be a reminder of the good time we had.”
Frowning, Kokichi tilted his head. What? Not even a lecture? When I broke something as a kid, I got way more than a scolding…
Mitsuo stamped towards the door. The tips of his Dumbo ears burned a bright pink. “Screw this. I’m going upstairs and playing Smash.”
“Smash Ultimate?” asked Himiko. “Ooh, I wanna play! And Kokichi’s really good at it.”
“No.”
Tears bubbled in Kokichi’s eyes. “Aw, pwetty please? I don’t wanna stay here all alone.” Grinning, Kokichi held his chin. “I’ll get sooo bored, I might be tempted to go outside and find more worms. Or other goodies…”
Mitsuo scowled. Over his shoulder, he growled, “Let me change first.”
Intense button mashing filled the room. Faces stern, Kokichi and Himiko sat cross legged on Mitsuo’s bedroom floor. The youngest Yumeno sat between them on a soccer floor cushion.
“Himiko!” called Mrs. Yumeno.
She paused the fighting match. Yawning, the mage pulled out her phone and began texting her mother, “What?”
“Lazy,” Kokichi and Mitsuo chorused.
Heaving a sigh, Himiko rose and left for downstairs.
As Mitsuo set up the next round, Kokichi leaned back, resting on his hands. He scanned the room. Analyze time. Manga and anime filled the bookshelves in the corner. Shonen manga packed with heroism and action. Posters of the martial artists covered the pale green walls. Against the double closet doors rested a skateboard. No helmet or pads in sight. But dust coated the skateboard. Above the TV, prominently on display, was a black belt in karate.
“What are you waiting for?” Mitsuo glanced over his shoulder. He had changed into an airy baseball jersey and mesh shorts. “Come on.”
Kokichi picked up his controller. Mitsuo had chosen Ryu, a martial artist from Street Fighter. The leader selected Villager, a young boy who used a variety of tools to fight like a shovel; fireworks; and a mini, rideable rocket. They gave themselves three lives each. Whoever knocked their opponents off screen three times first, won.
After a few minutes of playing, both had two lives left. Mitsuo asked, “What other games do you play with Himiko?”
“Oh, y’know, nothing big. The latest horror games. Ones with zombie apocalypses are the best. And shooting games! Can’t forget those. Himiko squeals with delight every time I get a bloody headshot.”
Mitsuo’s Ryu threw Kokichi’s character then followed up with a spinning kick to the stomach. “Quit jerking off.”
“She likes party games and my thing is RPGs. Why? What does it matter to you?”
“Just wondering what you did with Himiko outside of practicing magic. If you’re taking care of her. Between your stupid lies and childish pranks, it didn’t seem like it.”
Kokichi narrowed his eyes. He knocked Ryu off the stage, bashed him with a turnip, and then shot him with multiple arrows, killing Ryu. “Well, whaddya do when you’re not trying to act cool or beating a punching bag?”
Mitsuo’s character revived. With his brief period of invincibility, he charged a smash attack killing Kokichi. The match was even at one life each. “Lots of things. Go on jogs, do chores around the house, grocery shop a few blocks down. Four years younger, but I’m far more responsible than you.”
Kokichi’s Villager dropped a bowling ball onto Mitsuo. His character launched into the air. “Oh-ho! So you’re the man of the house! Is that your problem?” Villager rode his mini rocket, shot across the stage to Ryu, and exploded the rocket in his face. Mitsuo died instantly. The game’s announcer declared Villager the winner. Kokichi’s grin stretched across his face. “Feeling threatened?”
Mitsuo threw the controller down, its plug flying out from the system. “It’s not about me, it’s not about you. It’s about Himiko!”
Kokichi blinked. “Himiko?”
Exhaling slowly, Mitsuo ran a hand through his hair. Voice low, he whispered, “You weren’t there all those nights when Himiko cried. I’d enter her bedroom. Ask her what’s wrong. But she’d wipe her eyes and lie, saying she wasn’t crying. Then she’d make room on her bed, hug me, and tell me everything’s gonna be okay. She wouldn’t leave me.”
Kokichi dipped his head. “After Himiko’s master abandoned her you mean.”
“No. After Dad did.”
“W-what? What do you mean?” That doesn’t match what Himiko told me at all. She said he suddenly died of a heart attack. Kokichi frowned. Before he died… what did he do? What did he do to his family?
Eyes wide, Mitsuo leaned back. “Himiko never told you?” He went as cold and rigid as a statue. “Guess that answers that question.” Rising, he towered over Kokichi. “She doesn’t trust you. Not when you might leave her. After all, you all but admitted it yourself.” He sneered. “‘Chillax. We’re only high schoolers.’”
Kokichi flinched. Fists balled, he stood. Lavender eyes flashing, he hissed, “If you think I don’t care about Himiko, you’re wrong.”
Mitsuo lifted his chin in challenge. “Do you love her?”
Kokichi’s breath hitched. Do I… love Himiko? Memories played before his eyes. The hundreds of hours performing magic alongside Himiko in her research lab. All the nights spent planning out practical jokes just to hear her laugh. Blurting flirty one-liners to see her adorable, flustered pout. How she instinctively knew what he felt, what he was thinking. How when Himiko told him she was a liar too, Kokichi almost cried. For the first time there was another person who understood him.
“I…” Kokichi hoarsely whispered.
The door swung open, hitting the closet doors. Himiko, holding a tray, lowered her raised foot; she had kicked the door open. Behind her stood Mrs. Yumeno, holding another tray of snacks and drinks.
Kokichi gasped. “Panta? Sweet! I love that stuff!” He raced to snag a bottle, chugged half of it in one swig. Kokichi could feel Mitsuo’s burning gaze on his back. The sourness of the Panta curdled his stomach. “Man, you’re the best, Mrs. Yumeno.”
The mother chuckled. “I know. But thanks for the reminder.” Both of her children rolled their eyes.
Frowning, Himiko studied her boyfriend’s expression. “You good?”
Kokichi flashed a smile. “Yeah. Everything’s A-Okay! Let’s get back to playing.”
Kokichi lay in the bed of the guest bedroom staring up at the ceiling. The scent of dryer sheets smothered his nose. He sighed. Returned his gaze back to the notebook resting against his raised knees. The night before visiting the Yumeno household Kokichi had written alphanumeric outlines of possible scenarios. What to say if anyone asked about his family, a list of gestures like doing dishes to ingratiate himself to Yumenos, how to reassure Himiko if her mother was hospitalized. Useless. Tossing the notebook away, Kokichi rolled onto his side. Complete waste of time. I didn’t expect… Frowning, the leader squeezed his pillow. Never thought that Mrs. Yumeno would be so spacy. Warm. Or Himiko’s brother to be so annoyingly perceptive.
The moonlight behind the curtains cast strange shadows across the floor. Only the essential furniture, like a desk and dresser, stocked the bedroom. Over time however the Yumeno children used space to store their belongings. Old Lego creations covered the desk. The overflow of Himiko’s magical props were stacked in boxes in the corner.
Kokichi sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his bleary eyes. Pinched his nose. His head throbbed. I need a pick-me-up. Yawning, he slid off the bed, then slipped out the door. The wood floorboards chilled his bare feet.
A splash of color caught Kokichi’s eye. He stopped to study the picture of Himiko’s father. Himiko pushing the swing. Toddler Mitsuo smiling. Mr. Yumeno throwing his head back and laughing. Shaking his head, Kokichi began descending the stairs.
The hallway alongside the stairs was alit from the kitchen. Frowning, Kokichi carefully leaned over the balustrade. Peering through the glass paneled door he could just make out Mrs. Yumeno. She sat at the head of the table, back towards him. The leader scowled. Don’t tell me she’s a helicopter mom, staying up to ensure I don’t do anything funny to Himiko. Sighing, Kokichi turned back.
A voice called, “Kokichi, that you?” He went rigid. “Come on in, hon.”
After a moment, Kokichi complied. He softly shut the glass door behind him. “How didja know it was me?”
Without looking up Mrs. Yumeno replied, “Mothers have eyes in the back of their heads.”
“Ahaha!” laughed Kokichi. “What? I never heard of something so utterly stupid.”
Frowning, Mrs. Yumeno turned in the chair. “You never…?” She shook her head. “I knew because Himiko already got her glass of warm milk and Mitsuo did the nightly dishes. Even if they had gotten up again, they know where to step on the stairs to avoid it creaking.” She jabbed her thumb towards the counter. “Cupcakes are over there.”
Grinning sheepishly, Kokichi moved to the counter. Took a bite out of one. Mm, so sweet.
“Plate,” a voice growled. “Table.”
Head bowed and shoulders hunched, Kokichi obeyed. He sat perpendicular from Mrs. Yumeno, in Himiko’s place. He went to set his plate down, only to realize there was no space.
A half dozen photo albums were spread across the table like a buffet. Most had rectangular pictures, but older albums were stocked with square polaroid printouts. Pictures of school festivals. Christmas concerts. A vacation in Kyoto. Suited office workers at a party. Playing frisbee in the park. Kokichi’s breath was stolen away.
Mrs. Yumeno gazed at a photo of Himiko and Mitsuo standing on the porch, school uniforms on. Mitsuo’s first day of school. She flipped the page before looking up. “You’re still in your day clothes. Something wrong?”
“Nope! I just usually don’t go to bed now. I normally only get 4 to 6 hours of sleep a night. Can’t shut off my brain. Always thinking, analyzing.” Kokichi eyed her attire. Underneath a fluffy robe, she wore a flannel smiling sun pjs.
Mrs. Yumeno winked. “Perks of being single.”
She returned to perusing the albums while Kokichi ate his cupcake. The house creaked like a ship. Central air hummed. The faint smell of pasta lingered in the air. When Kokichi finished, he brushed off the crumbs on his hands onto the plate.
“Oh, hey, hey! Is that Himiko’s master?” Kokichi gingerly retrieved the fraying album. A picture showed the Yumeno family standing in front of a pavilion. Mrs. Yumeno stood next to an older man in a Hawaiian shirt. Smiling, he laid his hand on Mitsuo’s shoulder. The boy held up a new motor helicopter, grinning. Pouting, Himiko glared at the airplane, jealousy oozing from every pore. Almost didn’t recognize Himiko’s master. He’s not in one of the funeral black suits always wore onstage.
“Ah, yes. That was Mitsuo’s seventh birthday I believe.”
“Himiko’s master almost looks like a grandpa.”
Mrs. Yumeno pursed her lips. “He does, doesn’t he?” Sighing, she flipped another page of her photo book. “He was good to our family. Filled a void. Until he, too… Well, whaddya know. I thought this was long gone.”
Kokichi leaned forward. In the photo, the Himiko, Mitsuo, and their father sat at a McDonalds table. Himiko was eating her bun, the rest of her burger left untouched on the plate. Head bowed, Mr. Yumeno assembled a Happy Meal action figure. Scowling, Mitsuo pressed against his father, impatient. Himiko and Mitsuo appeared to be around nine and five respectively. Mrs. Yumeno must have taken the picture.
Mrs. Yumeno’s index finger rested by Mr. Yumeno’s face. “He worked in insurance.” Kokichi glanced up. She stared at the photo, smiling. But her shoulders had tensed slightly. “Big-time manager. I was an accountant. Always helped my clueless parents with the family store’s finances. Thought maybe I could do the same with others.” Running a hand down her face, Mrs. Yumeno exhaled a laugh. “Don’t know what I was thinking. Can you see me sitting behind a computer, crunching numbers all day?”
“You’re more of a people person.”
“Exactly! But I’m getting off track. He was my boss. When we married, I went back to school to get my teaching degree. My dream job. But he was always off on business trips, managing the other company branches across the country. So when he came home all we did was fight. After he died, I returned to accounting to pay the bills. Stayed ever since.”
A financial loss after buying the house. Just as I thought. Kokichi rested his arms on the table. “You work at the same place Mr. Yumeno did?”
“Huh? Oh, no. No, I wasn’t welcome there. I’m at a smaller, lesser-known place now.”
The company wouldn’t help the grieving wife of a major employee? The leader held his chin. Unless they divorced and she wasn’t his wife anymore. Or something else happened.
Mrs. Yumeno tapped the McDonalds photo. “That night we did our best not to fight. And though I can’t remember what we were celebrating, whenever we get McDonalds I’m reminded of that day. Of all the good times I had with him. With our family.” Glancing up, Mrs. Yumeno tilted her head to the side. Her brown eyes shone with unshed tears. “You have any food like that?”
Kokichi blinked. He barked a laugh. “What? No, ‘course not, silly. Who gets sentimental over fast food like McDonalds or Thai takeout?”
Frowning, Mrs. Yumeno studied him. “I guess you’re right–” She covered her mouth with a hand as she coughed. Her shoulders shook at suppressing them.
Kokichi squirmed. Eyes downcast, he bit his lip. Easy, she’s sick. But what kind of illness does she have anyway? They’re no ashtrays for smoking, ruling out COPD. Cystic fibrosis patients require constant oxygen. Tuberculosis or pneumonia maybe?
Mrs. Yumeno cleared her throat. The mother pushed back the album before stretching her arms above her head. “But enough about boring, ol’ me. I’m sure you had a lot of fun times with Himiko. You said something about Himiko singing? And an amusement park?” She smirked. “What tricks have you played on my daughter?”
Kokichi hummed. I dunno… bit of a different context going on here. Mrs. Yumeno wrapped her robe tighter around herself and settled back into the chair. The mother who worked a job she didn’t like, who had no husband and a daughter off at boarding school, was looking at photo albums in the dead of night. Oh, what the heck. Grinning wickedly, Kokichi leaned forward. “Those aren’t even the best stories I got.”
Mrs. Yumeno shook her head, smiling ear to ear. “So then she started chasing you?”
“Yuppers! Tried taking my phone from me. That is until she tripped and knocked over the classroom trash can, spilling garbage all over herself.”
Eyes alight, Mrs. Yumeno covered her mouth with a hand. “I would have lost it.”
“Nee-heehee! Oh, I so totes did. It was fantastic. Make every kind of joke about her smell all the way to detention.”
Mrs. Yumeno threw her head back and laughed. Her peals echoed throughout the kitchen. “Now that’s just mean!”
Grinning, Kokichi laid his hands behind his head. “Well, if she hadn’t markered me while I catnapped during class, then I wouldn’t have played farting sound effects on my phone behind her. Not the most mature thing, I know, but man it was sooooo worth it.”
Chuckling, Mrs. Yumeno wiped away tears. “Ahh… It does my soul good to hear about Himiko being so animated. Like during today’s magic show. Haven’t seen her like that in years.”
“She was suuuper lazy before. Now she’s better. Still asks for piggyback rides though.”
Exhaling, Mrs. Yumeno scanned the photo albums. “After her master left, getting her to do anything was a struggle. She didn’t want to attend Hope’s Peak, believe it or not.” Elbow on the table, Mrs. Yumeno rested her chin in her hand. “But I’m so glad that Himiko did. Otherwise she would have never met you and formed Magic Mayhem. You motivate her, bringing out the best in her. As long as Himiko’s with you, I don’t have to worry about her future anymore.”
Face burning, Kokichi wrung his hands in his lap. “T-that’s a lotta pressure there, lady.”
“Even if you don’t have a family of your own, I’m sure everything will work out.”
Kokichi’s blood went cold. Voice as brittle as ice, he hissed, “Well, your marriage failed so I’m not terribly impressed by the track record.”
Mrs. Yumeno cringed.
Eyes wide, Kokichi’s mouth hung open. His stomach fell through the floor. The only sound was the humming of central air.
Swallowing, Mrs. Yumeno ran a hand through her brown hair. “Well, you’re… brutally honest. But I guess sometimes that’s needed. I crossed a line. Forgive me.”
Ever so slightly, Kokichi tense shoulders relaxed. “Brutally… honest? Me? Never called that before. I mean, I lie 70% of the time.”
“As long as Himiko can discern the truth within the lies. That you tell the truth when it counts, even if that’s only 1% of the time.” Mrs. Yumeno evenly gazed at Kokichi, lips drawn into a tight line. “In a relationship, the most important thing is that you bring out the best in each other. But also just as vital is accepting their flaws. No matter how awful things are, when you love someone, the good parts, the good times, far outweigh the bad. Never forget that. Otherwise…” Mrs. Yumeno gazed at the McDonalds picture. “…you’ll lose those close to you.”
Biting his lip, Kokichi gazed down at his hands. “Why did you tell me all of this?”
Mrs. Yumeno tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She breathed, “There’s two types of teachers. One who teaches their students their successes, the other their failures.”
That sounds familiar… Frowning, Kokichi narrowed his eyes at her. “Wait. You’re ripping off Assassination Classroom manga!”
Mrs. Yumeno shrugged. “What can I say? My accounting job is boring.” She winked.
Mrs. Yumeno looked at the clock on the oven. 12:53 am. “Goodness, it’s late.” Rising, she twisted her torso one way and the other. Readjusted her robe. “You’re welcome to sleep in. Tomorrow I have work and Mitsuo has school. I’ll leave money on the counter in case you and Himiko want to eat out for lunch. Go see the neighborhood. Just be back in time so we can have a family dinner again, all right?” Smiling, she bent forward. Rubbed Kokichi’s head from its top to his neck, smoothing back his hair.
Kokichi stiffened like a board.
Gasping, Mrs. Yumeno drew back her hand. “Oh my goodness, sorry. Mistook you for one of the kids for a second there. I didn’t – I’m so sorry.”
Kokichi swallowed. After a moment, he hoarsely whispered, “It’s okay. It was nice.” He cleared his throat. Standing, Kokichi gestured to the photo albums. “This was nice, I mean. ‘Night.”
On shaky legs Kokichi returned to his bedroom. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, but all he saw were the pictures from the photo albums. Did my folks ever take a photo of me? Biting his lip, Kokichi threw an arm over his eyes.
Hand in hand, Kokichi and Himiko strolled down the sidewalk. As the day grew longer, the humidity had finally eased. To their left the occasional car rumbled past. A slight wind tousled Himiko’s hair. Her sleeveless floral dress billowed around her. Kokichi breathed in the sweet smell of grass and her strawberry shampoo.
Himiko’s phone buzzed. “Hold on,” she said, stopping. Frowning, she began texting a reply.
Exhaling softly, Kokichi retrieved a strip of photos from his shorts pocket. The couple had spent the day touring the area. Himiko showed him the high school she attended before coming to Hope’s Peak, her favorite coffee shop, and the town square where Himiko busked magic shows in her early days. Following lunch, they visited the arcade next door. At Kokichi’s insistence, they used the photo booth. In the first picture, Kokichi had cupped and turned Himiko’s face towards him, planting a surprise kiss. Next, they made sideways peace signs by their eyes, Himiko’s signature magic pose. Then Himiko had wanted a normal picture, but both ended up pinching the other’s cheeks. Smiling, Kokichi brushed his thumb across the final picture.
“That was Mommy.” Sighing, Himiko scratched her ear. “She said she needs more time before dinner. We’re to come back to the house in a half hour or so. Guess she was held up at work.”
“Whaaat? But it’s 6:27 already.” Squinting, Kokichi gazed down the road. Similarly styled two story homes lined the street. “And we’re only a few minutes from your place. What are we supposed to do? Pick our noses?”
After scanning the area, Himiko pointed towards the right. “How about that?”
A modest park bordered the sidewalk. Due to the late hour only two kids were present. One hung from the monkey bars while the other used the slide. Their bored father sat on a bench, flipping through a magazine. But Himiko pointed to a playground equipment off towards the side. Kokichi recognized it immediately.
The swing set she, Mitsuo, and their father played with in the picture.
“Himiko…”
But the mage was already striding towards them. Lips pursed, Kokichi trudged after her. Himiko paused at the precipice of the mulch square enveloping the swing set. Two low hanging swings hung from the bar. A bit of pollen covered the seats. Chin raised, she settled into the swing on right, the same as in the photo. Heel in the ground, Himiko rocked herself back and forth. The rusty fixture creaked.
Kokichi stepped onto the rubber U-shaped seat of the swing. To gain his balance, he held onto the metal chains. Baked by the sun, it was warm to the touch. Jumping up, Kokichi flipped upside down so his head hung by the swing seat. Blood rushed to his head. “Heeey, push me, push me!”
Himiko glanced up. “Nice view.”
Gravity had pulled Kokichi’s polo down to his armpits. Brow raised, he grinned. “Oh-ho?” He righted himself before jumping off. Stepping close, Kokichi lifted up his shirt’s hem, flashing his stomach. “Wanna see it up close and personal?”
Laughing, Himiko pushed him away. “I was just thinking that Mitsuo, Daddy, and I never did upside down.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm. Thought we did every combination under the sun. Me pushing Daddy and Mitsuo. Daddy to the two of us. Daddy picking us up so we could hang off the swing’s high bar.” She sighed. “Haven’t been to this park in years.” Himiko turned her head to the side, gesturing to behind her. “Push me.”
Kokichi stilled. Children laughed in the distance. Goosebumps broke across his bare arms.
Himiko dipped her head. “I wanna tell you something. Something I’ve been meaning to say a while now, but never found the opportunity. Please, Kichi. Before I lose my nerve.”
Mulch crunching, Kokichi moved to her back. He lightly, gingerly pressed his palms against her shoulder blades. Pushed.
Krrr-ECK. Krrr-ECK. Krrr-ECK.
Himiko’s lulling voice painted a memory. “When I was a kid, me and Mitsuo used to come here every day. Mitsuo always asked me when Daddy was coming home. Daddy was often gone on his business trips. So just I told Mitsuo soon and pushed him in the swing. Then when Daddy arrived, we spent hours pushing each other on the swings. Later I realized Dad probably did it to avoid going home and fighting with Mom.”
Shoulder slumping, Himiko’s hands slid down the chains. “I attended Daddy’s funeral with Mommy. Mitsuo stayed with neighbors. There Mommy fought with this other woman. She held a baby to her chest, shouting that she had every right to be there. A little girl clung to the woman’s leg. I can still see her big brown eyes studying me. I stared at her, too. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but I noticed something about her.” Himiko swallowed. “She had the same bumpy, hooked nose Daddy did.”
Kokichi sucked in a breath through his teeth. The words felt like a knife to the heart. “Oh, Himiko…”
Hands falling into her lap, the mage hunched forward. The swing rattled as it stopped. “When I asked Mommy about it years later, she told me. That woman was his personal assistant at another branch of his company. Apparently, he went on ‘business trips’ to go see them. Going back and forth between us both made him late with projects at work. He was fired. Mom discovered what he’d been up to and asked for a divorce. Maybe the assistant lady found out, too.” Himiko grounded her palms into her eyes. Took a deep breath. “T-then he just had a heart attack and died. Gone. Just like that.”
The mage rubbed her face furiously. Noisily sniffed. “T-the next day after the funeral. A-at this park. Mitsuo asked me when Daddy was coming…” Hiccupped. “…coming home. And I just lied and said he’d be here tomorrow, because I, because I didn’t know what else to dooooo…!” Sobbing, Himiko buried her face into her hands. Her tiny body trembled like a leaf.
Frowning, Kokichi drew back. With the sun setting, orange and red streaked across the sky. The first few crickets began singing. Air chilled. The father rose, calling for his children. Time to go home. Laughing, the kids raced to him.
Breathing deeply, Kokichi tasted the cool air. The leader wrapped his arms around Himiko’s waist. Pressed a cheek to her bare shoulder. He felt every shuddering breath she took.
Himiko wiped away her tears. Voice thick, she whispered, “Y-you know what happened next.”
“Mm-hmm. You met your master, became a mage, and then he left, too. You lost all drive to do anything because it was…” Kokichi closed his eyes. “It was the second time.”
Himiko nodded. Turned around. Kokichi’s breath caught; only an inch separated them. Himiko cupped his face. Smiled through the tears. “Then I met you…”
Kokichi’s heart pounded in his ears. His mouth went dry.
Himiko rubbed her thumb across his cheek. At her touch, his Kokichi’s face burned. “And thanks to you, I rediscovered the magic of living.” She shifted closer. “Kokichi, I…” Himiko’s gaze fell to his lips. “I love–”
Kokichi backpedaled, hands raised. “Stop! Stop. You… You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“N-nyeh? Kokichi?”
“I told you. I told you I didn’t understand. Not to expect anything from me! Why don’t you ever listen?!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Rrrgh!” Kokichi raked his fingers through his hair. Dug his fingers in. After a long moment, Kokichi exhaled. Let his arms fall to his sides. “My… My parents and older brother lied to me.” Kokichi balled his hands into fists. Nails bit into his skin. “Abused me. Left me with nothing like I was…” Gritting his teeth, Kokichi spat, “like I was garbage.”
Gasping, Himiko covered her mouth with a hand.
“I don’t…” Kokichi swallowed. “I don’t know how to love.” He gazed at his palms. Blood pooled from his nail marks, dripping onto the ground. “Only how to hurt. How to lie.” Shaking his head, Kokichi turned away. “So I’ll just pretend this never happened–”
The swing’s chains rattled. Something seized his wrist.
“That’s a lie!”
Wide-eyed, Kokichi turned back. Himiko was kneeling on the swing, one hand holding the chain, the other clasping his wrist. Fire flashed in her eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything’s a pain anymore. To live life facing forward. Daddy’s dead, my master’s gone, but I’ll use every bit of MP I have to keep you by my side. And if you leave after all that…” Himiko gripped his wrist tighter. “I’ll chase you. No matter how painful it’ll be, I will find you. I’ll curse you! You-will-always-slip-on-ice! You-will-get-motion-sickness-in-every-vehicle-you-use. And uh… and every other curse in the grimoire!”
Smiling, Himiko released Kokichi’s wrist to hold his hand. “Cuz the life I want is performing as Magic Mayhem. Becoming a member of your organization. Being with you.”
Kokichi’s mouth fell open. “H-Himi…”
Breathing a laugh, Himiko tilted her head to the side. “I know you. Saying you don’t know how to love is the biggest lie you’ve ever told. Seriously, the worst.”
Crickets serenaded the sun’s dying rays. Grass blades danced in the wind. In the cool air, Kokichi shivered.
“Yeah, you’re right,” smiled Kokichi, eyes shining. “I love you so much I don’t want anyone to hurt you. Especially me.
“But,” he frowned. “Do you really mean it? You don’t know anything about my past or my organization.”
Himiko wrapped her arms around Kokichi’s neck. “Don’t need to. As long as I can trust you and you can trust me.”
Kokichi closed his eyes. Savored the warmth running through his body, making him curl his toes.
“Then lemme tell you my answer in a way you can trust.”
Kokichi dipped his head and kissed her slow.
Cobblestones crunched underfoot as Himiko and Kokichi made their way up the Yumeno driveway. Giddy from laughing, they stumbled like drunkards. The June sun had set completely, but lingering rays allowed enough light to see by.
Himiko squeezed Kokichi’s hand. Brushing a hair from her flushed face, she asked, “Sooo do I get a code name or something? As a member of your secret organization, I mean.”
“Hmm…” Kokichi pressed a finger to his lips. “Oh, I know! How ‘bout Fugly?”
Scowling, Himiko shoved his shoulder before holding his hand again.
“Nee-heeheehee! Oh, wait, wait, wait! I got a better one. Delusional magician!”
“I’m not delusional or a magician. And that wouldn’t hide my identity at all.”
“So you do admit it!”
“Nyeh!” She stamped her foot.
Grinning, Kokichi pulled on Himiko’s hand and wrapped an arm around her waist. Captured her pouting lips in a kiss. Himiko clasped the sides of his head, deepening the kiss. Humming low in his throat, Kokichi gripped her tighter. She melted against him. They slowly broke apart, staring into each other’s eyes. Both panted heavily.
Smiling, Himiko stroked a thumb across his cheek. “So. You glad you came after all?”
Kokichi made a face. “Oh, shut up.”
Laughing, Himiko dove in for a few more lingering kisses.
After drawing back, Kokichi turned to the house. He hopped up the step onto the porch and pressed the doorbell. As Himiko stepped up alongside, Kokichi asked, “Hey, whaddya think dinner is–?”
The door opened, revealing Mrs. Yumeno and Mitsuo. Although work should have ended hours ago, Mrs. Yumeno still wore her office uniform: a button up blouse, black blazer, and slacks. Mitsuo, however, had his usual T-shirt and shorts. Mrs. Yumeno greeted, “Welcome home, you two! Come in, come in. How was your day?”
Sighing, Mitsuo rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure took you long enough. If the food’s cold, it’s your fault.”
“Whaaaaaahaha!” Sniffing, Kokichi rubbed at the tears sliding down his face. “I missed you toooo!”
Grimacing, Mitsuo edged back.
Himiko slid off her shoes. “Well we would have been here sooner if Mom hadn’t kept texting me, telling us to stay out longer.”
Crossing his arms, Mitsuo leaned against the stairs’ banister. “What were you doing?”
Mrs. Yumeno tilted her head to the side, clapping her hands. “Yes, what have you lovebirds been up to?”
Himiko tensed. A slow brush crept along her cheeks. Grinning, Kokichi slapped her back, starling her. “Oh, y’know, nothing too special. Me and Himi went downtown, found us a hotel and – Hrngk!” Himiko crushed the instep of Kokichi’s foot. Wincing, Kokichi stammered, “W-we went to the park a few minutes from here. I pushed Himiko on the swing.”
Smiling broadly, Mrs. Yumeno pressed a hand over her heart. Her eyes shone. Gasping, Mitsuo looked to his sister with wide eyes.
Himiko nodded. “He’s telling the truth.”
Eyes downcast, Mitsuo scratched his head. “Thanks.”
Kokichi pulled down on his eyelid and blew a raspberry. “Didn’t do it for you, monkey ears! Did it cuz Himi asked.”
Mitsuo trained his brown eyes on the leader. “Good.” Kokichi glimpsed a hint of a smile as the boy turned towards the kitchen.
“Ah, yes, yes.” Mrs. Yumeno hastened down the hall after her son. “Come on, now. Dinner’s waiting.”
Kokichi paused at the kitchen door. For an inexplicable reason, the glass paneled door had something hanging over it, blocking anyone from seeing into the kitchen. Brow raised, Kokichi opened it.
Confetti burst into Kokichi’s face. “Happy Birthday!” Mrs. Yumeno and Mitsuo chorused, poppers in hand.
Blinking, Kokichi lowered his raised hand. He gasped. Across the far wall a large banner read “Happy Birthday!” Balloons of every color were fastened to the sink faucet, cabinet handles, and his chair’s back. Curly, multicolored streamers hung from the ceiling at random intervals. A donkey piñata dangled by a string. On the counter sat a plate of cupcakes. Next to it was a decorated birthday cake, complete with 18 lit candles.
“Sorry you had to wait so long,” apologized Mrs. Yumeno. “I got held up at work, and I then had to run to the store because I forgot to get more eggs for the cake.”
“But… my birthday’s June 21st. It isn’t for another two weeks.”
“If we waited until your birthday was closer, then you would have suspected that’s the reason why I invited you over.”
“Wait! You’re not sick?”
Grinning, Mrs. Yumeno held a fist to her mouth, hacking loudly. “Course I am! My bronchitis is as bad as it gets!”
Kokichi glared daggers at Himiko. She raised her hands. “I didn’t know, honest!”
Mitsuo scratched his head. “Yeah, sorry, sis. Mom threatened to take my Xbox if I told the truth.”
The mage growled, “I’ll make it disappear.”
“Look, look! Look at this.” Mrs. Yumeno dashed to the table. She lifted up a white Asian takeout box. “We got Thai takeout just for you!”
Kokichi sucked in a breath. “That’s… Ahaha…” He balled his hands into fists. From head to toe, Kokichi’s body trembled. Voice shook. “Psssht. That’s, like, suuuper lame for a birthday dinner, y’know? Seriously, did you even try? What were you thinking? I don’t…” Kokichi hung his head. “I don’t need it…”
Sighing, Mrs. Yumeno cupped a cheek. “Well now, that’s a real shame.” She turned towards the trash can in the corner. “Guess I’ll throw it out then…”
A memory flashed before Kokichi’s eyes.
Kokichi sat next to a dumpster in a graffitied alleyway. The sweltering heat only magnified the trash’s stench. Sweaty purple locks were pasted to his pale face. The boy’s stomach growled. Kokichi pressed his chaffed knees to his chest. Kokichi’s hoarse voice choked, “Happy birthday to me.” Sniffing, Kokichi dropped his head to his knees. Thought, What am I saying? I should have never been born.
“Hey, you.”
Kokichi raised his head. Blinking, he squinted in the sunlight. A woman was holding an Asian takeout box towards him. “Here. You can have this.”
Faster than lightning, Kokichi seized Mrs. Yumeno’s wrist. “Don’t throw it out.” His ironclad grip tightened. Tears slid down Kokichi’s face. “Please don’t.”
A hush fell over the room. Himiko and Mitsuo gaped at the sight. Mrs. Yumeno turned towards him. Smiled. “I would never do that, honey.”
After a long moment, Kokichi released her. Blue and purple bruises bloomed on her wrist. He flinched. “Damnit, shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt–”
Mrs. Yumeno enveloped Kokichi in a hug. The smell of soap enveloped him. “Oh, you hush. This’ll be gone in a few days.” She stroked the back of his head. Whispering in his ear, Mrs. Yumeno soothed, “But we’ll always remember eating Thai takeout – of celebrating your birthday – together, right? You understand?”
Putting his arms around her, Kokichi buried his face into her shoulder. “Mm-hmm.”
Mrs. Yumeno patted his head. “Good.”
Himiko hugged Kokichi from behind, pressing her cheek to his spine. “I’m so glad I got you, Kichi. Happy birthday.”
Mrs. Yumeno extended a hand to her son. “Come on, Mitsuo.”
Mitsuo stepped back. “Uh, yeah no.”
Kokichi drew away from Mrs. Yumeno, wiping at his red rimmed eyes. When he noticed everyone watching him, Kokichi grinned. He threw his hands up in the air. “Let’s eat!”
The others echoed his cheer.
Kokichi carried the last suitcase down the stairs. Over his shoulder, he called, “C’mon, hup to, Himiko!” When he received no answer, he grumbled, “Slower than amoeba. Looks as bland as one, too.”
Mrs. Yumeno rested against the hallway’s wall, arms crossed. “I can’t convince you to stay any longer? You’re more than welcome to spend the weekend here.”
Mitsuo made a finger gun. “We can have a Smash Ultimate rematch.”
Kokichi set the bag down by the door, then straightened. “Can’t. Himiko and I only got a leave of absence from Hope’s Peak for three days. We stay off campus any longer, and we’ll get detention. Or even a short suspension.”
Mrs. Yumeno snapped her fingers. “Shoot. Well, summer vacation then! I’ll bake more cupcaaakes.”
Hands on his hips, Kokichi jutted his chin in the air. “And why should I believe anything you say, Little Miss Bronchitis?”
Huffing, Mrs. Yumeno ran a hand through her hair. “Fine then. See if I ever make anything for you again.”
Kokichi turned to the door. The sunlight through the window shined off a glass surface. The framed picture on the key table next to the door had been changed. When he first arrived, it was a photo of the Yumeno family. Mrs. Yumeno, Himiko, Mitsuo. Now the selfie Mitsuo took last night replaced it. Kokichi sat at his extra decorated chair at the kitchen table. Mrs. Yumeno and Himiko flanked him, leaning in close and holding up boxes of Thai takeout. In the lower right corner of the selfie, Mitsuo made a peace sign. Party hats on, they grinned at the camera.
“Hmm, maybe I will come back during break,” smiled Kokichi, gazing at the photo. “Since my time here wasn’t too boring.”