Chapter Text
It was a downpour to say the least.
Two minutes into the rain and Kokichi’s temporary apartment (a literal cardboard box he found in an alley of Fremont St.) was reduced to a brown mush. Luckily, he manage to squirm his way out of his temporary home before it fully collapsed into a pile of gross, polluted, city rainwater and the common smell of a sweaty teenager. Kokichi had a small mental funeral for the home that served him well for about three hours of “peaceful” sleep, but then stopped the funeral to criticize the mere box for not protecting him from the creepy raccoon that tried to attack him last night. (Like, seriously, he was pretty sure that thing had rabies! You weren’t a loyal protector at all! Serves you right to melt in this downpour you peasant!)
Regardless, Kokichi turned around in the direction of the local laundromat and relished in the annoyed look on his classmates’ faces as they ran towards Hope’s Peak Academy. He was particularly interested in the way-too-buff-to-not-be-on-steroids Kaito Momota. Who was sprinting his way through the streets using his backpack to shield his uniform from the rain. Oh, if only he knew how comical his face looked right now! Kokichi briefly wished he had a phone, so he could take a picture and use it as blackmail.
Continuing, he walked at a normal pace, as if the rain wasn’t pelting his face and ruining his classic Supreme Leader getup. As he entered the familiar laundromat of Miu Iruma, (well rather, her aunt: Hana Iruma, technically ran the business). Inside the rundown building was a familiar scurry of little troublemakers Kokichi knew as family. He briefly let a genuine smile creep up on his face, before he smacked his mask back on hard at the sound of Miu’s voice.
“Kokichi! Call your virgins off! Hana isn’t home yet and she’s gonna have three up my ass if this place gets trashed again!”
“Nothing wrong with shoving a full can of unbranded soda inside a washing machine.” Kokichi said back defensively, shrugging.
“Everything’s wrong with that!” His expression changed entirely as he shot a glare to quickly shut the tramp’s mouth. Her expression flashed from one of a grumpy neighbor to one of a defenseless five-year-old in the span of about four seconds.
“Please” she pleaded, which he responded with a classic gremlin grin and a broad shout to all the D.I.C.E. members within the establishment.
“Yo creeps! Don’t fuck the machines up too badly! I still gotta dry my uniform!” A collective: “ugh...fine” resounded from the group as Kokichi made his way to the least-disgusting machine and shoved his soaked uniform in. He watched it turn for a couple of seconds, before hearing a ruckus behind him and checking. Surely enough, there was Kiibo Iidabashi getting harassed by his lil’ minions.
“I’m not gonna rust in the rain!” He argues to their teasing, but then his expression took a 180’ as he started a prideful rant about how his “dad” made him of metals that weren’t prone to fast rusting. His subordinates continued to pester him regardless. It was then that Kokichi realized his littleshit-ness must be contagious because these kids were basically him but looking less like they were just dragged out of a dumpster.
It’s another thing that makes him want to smile, but he holds back the urge and distracts himself by watching Suzuki arrange her pennies on top of one of the washing machines. Yesterday was her birthday after all. Nice of her good-for-nothing parents to finally give her something useful. Like, jeez, she’s only ten. Not that Kokichi knows much about healthy families, but he’s pretty sure you shouldn’t force your kid to stay outside in the middle of the city with no form of protection.
In his hidden concern, he walks over, in a totally cool and definitely not caring or piteous manner of course.
“How much did they give you?”
“Ten dollars. They said it was cuz’ I’m ten years old.”
“Jeez, so only a dollar per year, huh?” Kokichi thought to himself. He wasn’t sure why he pitied her. After all, he left the orphanage when he was her age, and he never got paid. Ten dollars is a fair amount, right?
His subordinates deserve better than that though.
“Hmm, that’s good” he replied “now we have more money to buy supplies for pranking that guy at the mail office!”
“Haha! Yeah!” She said, before subsequently mimicking the mailman as ten goons jumped up from a cart of envelopes.
He heard the dryer beep and ran off. Quickly took off his costume and put on his uniform. Of course, he kept the scarf on though, how could he part with such a stylish object? (Despite how teared it was.)
“Miu, you skipping today?” He asks.
“Nah, I gotta get my grade up before Mr. BlastInTheAss gets me held back. I’mma just be late today.”
He turned his head to ask the ultimate robot. “Keeboy?”
“Why do you think I’m here, you robophobic dummy? I need Miu to help me iron my uniform. Everyone in homeroom is going to make fun of me if I come in drenched.”
“We’d make fun of you regardless of how wet you are.” Kokichi said walking off towards the academy. In the distance he heard Miu giggling about his use of the word wet.
“Thot” he whispered under his breath, as he scuttled his way across the streets and into the safety that was the roof of his school.