Chapter Text
Kokichi Ouma's favorite color isn't blue, yet anyone would mistake it as such for the way he overuses it. From the bright-colored ink he writes with to his little doodles, to the stuffed animal he may or may not sleep with but he'll kill you if you touch this possibly nonexistent object, to his odd fixation with blueberries he piles on top of his breakfast every morning.
He's using that exact color right now to outline a messy sketch of… well, some boy he dreams about a lot. But not in a weird context or anything. Quite frankly, he's not sure just who this person is, which is why he labeled the drawing 'Trustworthy?' alongside some other little notes. It's been like that for a long time, really, but he chose not to dwell on it. Chose not to dwell on the odd dreams that plagued him in the depths of midnight where he sees flashes of blue, sometimes black-and-white and red in the shape of a lightning bolt, silver, and then nothing but neon pink. Always neon pink.
It's just to occupy his thoughts for a little, really. Because mornings aren't so merciful, and he has to make do with keeping himself awake. Sure, his classmates are entertaining, with the way people like Tenko is beating up whichever poor male soul decided to approach Himiko, but he'd kind of rather just draw instead.
"Hey, Cock-ichi!" a familiar voice bellows out, and quite frankly he can't tell if that's a good thing or not. On one hand, he doesn't have to try so hard to stay awake, but on the other hand he doesn't want his drawing to be interrupted. He's lazily writing 'Stupid cap' on the sketch just as a hand claps onto his shoulder energetically. While Kiibo kind of stares with an 'I'm-in-charge-of-these-idiots' look.
Ah, Miu. Always being a blinding ray of sunshine. "Look at you bein' a gloomy virgin!" she cackles, "you still tryna find a way to mindfuck your imaginary boyfriend into existence?" Hm, well at least she was changing up her insults this time around. She'd called the mysterious boy a pornstar Kokichi was obsessed with for about a week now.
He sets down his pen, glancing tiredly at his two friends. Looks like Kiibo didn't seem to be in much of a talking mood, only waving at one of their classmates with weak enthusiasm. "...Well, what about you, Miu? Still trying to put your dick into Kiiboy?" Kokichi shoots back, and even though it very much lacked any kind of bite, his comment still makes Miu shrink back in both surprise and arousal.
"D-Dick? I-I-In Kiiboy? W-Well, I could arrange th-that..."
"Please don't rope me into this," Kiibo interjects with a sigh. Kokichi may never get these two, or why they'd been friends for so long when their personalities seemed to headbutt at every given opportunity, but that didn't really matter much. A lot of weird, unexplainable things happen all the time. Things he has no control over which sometimes irritates him in ways he doesn't really get. "You do happen to draw this person a lot, however," he notes to a very uncaring Kokichi.
"Yeah?" he hums, not glancing up. "You and Miu hang out a lot and yet it just means you're really good friends."
Miu scoffs loudly, sounding nearly offended by the thought. "Please, as if some scrawny virgin could ever get past havin' wet dreams about me. I'm way too outta everyone's league in this school."
Kiibo ignores the blatant insult, continuing. "Recurring dreams can often be a sign of stress, or your subconscious reminding you of an unresolved dilemma."
The blonde loudly gasps. "So it is a pornstar that's gotcha all hot and bothered, isn't it, you goddamn liar?" So he counted his luck on Miu having original insults, big deal.
"No, Miu, it's not a pornstar." Kokichi rolls his eyes, but doesn't really elaborate. He doesn't need to (that, and he doesn't even know how to).
He doesn't know how to explain that this person feels really important, when he doesn't even know their name or who they are to him. Like a phantom, haunting him, dangling the answer right in front of his face and jumping back the moment he got remotely close. He sees these things a lot; in daydreams that aren't his, or at night where his thoughts are splattered in pink. They probably have meaning, but they don't make sense either way. It just makes for a difficult night of rest each day.
He returns to his drawing as Miu goes into some sort of rant about her latest invention that sounds inherently useless, which Kiibo very much comments on and leaves her dejected. Perks of being a robot programmed with emotions, he supposes. This seems to go on for a couple minutes, until frantic footfall approaches the door, and the door is abruptly thrown open.
"Guys, shut it!" Kaede shouts, catching the attention of each student in the room. "Ms. Chisa is outside the door!" It's a little amusing to watch everyone move like clockwork to scramble to their respective spots, including Kaede, and as soon as their teacher enters the whole room is quiet and patient.
Ms. Yukizome is a little too enthusiastic for Kokichi's tastes, but that's probably why she and Kaede seem to get along like college buds. They're both annoying to a certain degree. "Good morning, class!" she chirps with unrealistic cheerfulness this early in the morning. Glancing towards the door with a quiet expectancy that it tugs Kokichi's curiosity and he's glancing up as well. She's mouthing 'It's okay' to the door, and for a second he was concerned about her health when hesitant footsteps enter through, joining her side at the front of the classroom. Their sight obscured by the brim of a hat.
"As you can see, there's a new student!" Ms. Yukizome continues, placing an encouraging hand on the boy's back. Pausing with a small laugh. "Well, actually he's not really a new student, he's always been in this class, he's just—" The boy looks a bit uncomfortable, glancing at the floor. Possibly from her spilling what seemed like personal information. "Oops, I'm babbling. C'mon! Let's hear it from the boy himself!"
There's something about the air that seems to thicken. Maybe it's the way Miu and Kiibo are intensely staring at Kokichi like he just sprouted an extra head, or the way that- the boy straightens slightly, adjusting his hat. And suddenly their eyes meet. Gold clashing with wisteria, and it feels familiar. Like some sort of challenge he couldn't possibly turn down. A challenge only they're fully aware of that no one else really understands. A challenge between truth and lies.
"Um… My name is Shuichi Saihara," comes a soft, timid voice. "I am the Ultimate Detective."
---
"You're a psychic."
"Seriously, that's your first assumption?"
"Duh-doy! What other bullshit excuse can you make up?!"
"So you admit it's bullshit." Kokichi leans back into his seat with a rough sigh; he hates the cafeteria and its incessant buzzing of chatter, and yet he was dragged here courtesy of Miu. Who felt like gossiping, of course. It didn't really stop him from attempting to tune her out with the book Kiibo had been reading, but she was a bit persistent.
"I am not programmed to believe in coincidences, but you would have to believe that this incident is strange," Kiibo notes, glancing over at his stolen book he had been using to entertain himself.
"Okay, look." Miu slaps a hand on the table as if she just made an amazing breakthrough. The items on her lunch tray clatter and clash together from the rough impact. "There's two options here; the p—"
"It's not a pornstar, Miu," Kokichi sighs.
"Psychic it is, then! Quit lookin' at me like I'm a dumbass, I know I'm right! Look at the damn drawing, the likeness is pretty much fuckin' identical, and Cock-ichi can't draw for shit!"
"Moreover…" Kiibo looks over at Kokichi again, who pretends not to notice. "Are you going to talk to him?"
The book falls out of Kokichi's grip and onto the table. Genius idea, let's go talk to the weird kid featured in all of your dreams about annoying talking bears and a hydraulic press. The person that just so happens to actually be real and that was a bit confusing for what those dreams meant.
That one same goddamn person is incidentally only a table away and surrounded by many people, most from their class and very clearly overwhelmed by the attention. Particularly from Kaito, which was an immediate red flag that told Kokichi to never engage for the rest of his life.
"...Absolutely not," he finalizes, but still finds himself unable to tear his gaze away. Even in real life, the cap looks dumb.
"Figures you'd have a wet dream about some stranger and don't even nail 'em the next time you see 'em," Miu huffs disapprovingly. "So, what, you're just gonna eyefuck him all year?"
"I would have to agree with Miu to a certain degree. Maybe engaging with this classmate would prove helpful," Kiibo comments, but it ends up being ignored as Kokichi continues to watch intently. Because, honestly, robots start to lose their charm and get boring after a while.
Shuichi is asking some sort of question before standing up. Kokichi can only read 'thank you' from the boy's lips as he suddenly leaves the cafeteria, unaware that violet eyes were watching his movements. "There goes your boyfriend, Quiche," Miu notes with a small snicker. "Whaddya gonna do about it, hm?"
"You're not implying that Kokichi stalks him, right?" Kiibo asks in disbelief. Though, really it shouldn't be that surprising given that she made a lot of dumb decisions on a daily basis.
"Hell fuckin' yeah I'm implyin' that Kokichi stalks him! What, I've been rootin' for him to get some for ages now, don't get on my case that you two are sad little virgins that couldn't fuck your way out of a wet dream." She crosses her arms defensively, and Kokichi can hear them argue about the ethics but he's long tuned it out. Because honestly it happens daily that he no longer cares, and his mind is already overworking trying to understand what had drawn him to this one person.
His body works without his permission, and suddenly he's leaving the cafeteria the same direction Shuichi had left. Hearing Kiibo lament about his lost book and Miu quickly following after.
"You do realize we're not attached to the hip all the time, right?" he asks dully, glancing up at the blonde that had a tight grip on Kiibo's wrist. "You can go do whatever in the robotics lab, y'know."
"And miss out on whatever the fuck is goin' on?" Miu cackles. "Hell no!"
"I'm only engaging purely by coercion," Kiibo points out, trying to match Miu's pace but finds he's being dragged behind by her strong grip. "As well as to retrieve my book—"
"No one cares about your little Playboy magazine, this is way more interestin'!" Kokichi rolls his eyes, trying real hard to be discreet but finding that task quite difficult with his two idiotic friends. He holds an arm out in front of them to stop them from continuing. Backing the three of them against the wall so they wouldn't be spotted.
Really, he's not sure why he's Mission Impossible-ing all of this for some kid he's seen in his dreams one too many times. But he watches as the target enters the library, and he's tempted to follow if his common sense didn't dig his heels firmly into the floor, swooping in at the very last second.
Miu peeks her head from behind the corner, scrunching up her nose. "Oh, ew, the library. So on top of bein' an emo, he's also a nerd. You sure know how to pick 'em, pipsqueak."
"I'm really questioning the ethics on this," Kiibo trails off with blatant uncertainty, but still follows as the other two he's responsible for begin to hover near the door that led to the library.
Shuichi is chatting with the librarian, making a few hand gestures towards the books in his hands and waits patiently while they're kindly taken from him, presumably to be checked in.
"...He's also boring," the blonde comments with a huff. "Man, I was hopin' for some kinda action and all we get is vanil—" Kokichi sharply cuts her off by clamping his palm firmly over her mouth, his instincts begging to draw back when she licks him in order to get him to let go.
Trying not to focus on Miu's tongue running over his hand with a grimace, he instead focuses back on Shuichi, who had taken a seat at a vacant table and calmly thumbs through a book. Peacefully, intently focused on every word he comes across. That kind of drive feels familiar in a way.
Familiar in the sense he's looking over a crime scene, carefully analyzing every detail that stood out, subtle or obvious. Almost like an entirely new person. Someone with determination in their efforts and unraveling the truth even if it was agonizing. And those eyes, yet again, staring directly into Kokichi's soul— wait a minute.
Sudden heat rushes to Kokichi's face and he ducks his head back to break the eye contact, instead staring at the floor. Finally letting go of Miu so he could think, only to hear her cackle unsubtly. "My god, you sad poor simp, you really got a hard-on from just lookin' into his eyes?!" It doesn't take long for him to muster enough courage to glance up again, except Shuichi had brought the book to his face to conceal it, shoulders tensed up.
"...It would appear Shuichi is visibly uncomfortable being watched," Kiibo observes.
"If I knew any better, I'd say that was sarcasm I just detected there, Kiiboy," Kokichi teases with a light smirk. "Keep it up and you'll be human in no time."
"I'll be adding that comment with the rest of your robophobic insults." The supreme leader only gives a lazy thumbs-up, his heart stupidly pounding incessantly in his chest as Shuichi slowly lowers the book to reveal only his eyes, only to bring the book right back up realizing that his stalkers haven't left him alone.
"Okay, so, go talk to him then," Miu states, as if it's the most obvious choice. Kokichi reels his head back to glare at her.
"Absolutely not." Talk to him? He couldn't possibly do that.
"How come?" She crosses his arms, already anticipating his answer to be dumb.
"Because I said so."
"I hate to interject, but—" Kiibo is cut off immediately.
"So, what, you're just gonna watch him like a lovesick puppy and not engage or somethin'?"
Kokichi pinches the bridge of his nose. "Miu, it's not that easy. Sorry it's easy for you to talk to whoever you want because you're popular or some crap but this is different."
"Guys—"
"How so? It's literally goin' up to the guy and sayin', 'Hey, wouldja like to talk?' Stop dancin' around it and just go for it."
"That's not how it works, Miu."
"Guys!"
"Why's it gotta be different because you draw him or some shit? Sure, it's freaky but it shouldn't stop you from goin' after what you want."
"You'd think you'd understand density since you're an inventor and all. Miu, look, I'm not gonna talk to him and that's final."
"Ah, excuse me?" Both Miu and Kokichi halt in their argument, completely caught off-guard as Shuichi stands by the door staring at them with a mix of confusion and discomfort. "Do I… Um, Do I know you by any chance?" he asks softly, not even looking up at them.
"Unfortunately," Kiibo mutters, and his wrist is yet again captured by Miu.
"Wooow, wouldja look at the time! Robotics club meetin' calls us, bye!" As Miu rushes away from the scene, ignoring Kiibo's protests, Kokichi realized right then and there that he had to plan out a couple murders. But first he had to get through how unbearably awkward this is.
"...Um…" Shuichi takes a small step back. "You're… in my class, right?" His voice is small, unconfident, and it somehow reminds Kokichi of bright pink again. And a noose, accompanied by a shot-put ball.
"Yeah." He adjusts his scarf, really not sure just- what to say. Because he barely interacts with his classmates as it is, much less someone that he sees too much in his dreams. Too much. And the dreams are always loosely connected, like fragments of memories that aren't his. Some are silly, like playing card games or chasing after a robot, or serious.
Like a person's entire body eaten by piranhas until the skeleton remained floating in a tank of water, the dissonance of piano notes being played at an erratic speed, or… squish.
"...Your friends seem nice," Shuichi tries, just barely hanging on when the air was so thick.
"So they appear." He doesn't know what to do in this scenario and it was probably a little too prominent.
"...Can I ask why you've, um… been following me all day?" He trails off until the last words are just a mumble, but it's not difficult to interpret. It's just difficult to answer.
"You look like someone I've met before." He finds himself staring at those eyes again, that have a weird quality. Like they've seen unspeakable horrors but still have to keep going. Keeping some sort of promise, no matter how unrealistic it was. Just had to keep trying.
"Really?" Shuichi laughs softly, a small sound that rumbles in his throat and leaves behind a slight ache in Kokichi's chest.
"Yeah. Maybe you and I were lovers in a past life." Stay calm stay calm stay calm stay calm st—
"That's… quite the imagination." Shuichi tightly grips the book in his hands, a conflicted emotion washing over his expression like he's fighting an argument in his head. "Um, what's your name? I'd tell you mine but… I'm, ah, pretty sure you already know it."
Kokichi's stupid heart won't stop loudly beating and he's almost sure Shuichi can hear. "Kokichi Ouma." He's trying to remain composed, but that's not really easy, because scenarios are pictured in his head, and…
"Kokichi, huh? That's a nice name," Shuichi offers with a small chuckle. Drowning in the awkwardness of this whole conversation. "Not sure if I've, ah, ever met someone with that name before."
"Not sure if I've ever met someone with the name Shuichi before." Somehow that feels like a lie even though it wasn't. But everything about this version of Shuichi was perfectly identical to the drawings and dreams. From the small little star on his dumb cap, to the perfect shade of gold in his eyes, to his fidgety timid nature. They had to have met before. They had to. "Sorry my dumb friends and I interrupted your reading time. You can go back to it now." With that said, he's ready to make his escape until—
"Ah, wait!" Goddamn it. "Um, I'm kind of lost and… have no idea where my next class is. Or just about anything, really." Shuichi is rubbing at his neck sheepishly, clearly not happy with having to request things. "Can you- Can you show me where I'm supposed to go? For science, I mean."
Kokichi stays where he stands. "...It's a small school," he deadpans. A part of him not wanting to engage and the rest of him doing just that.
"...So it is." You would've thought someone would show him around but clearly that wasn't the case, so he gestured for the weird detective to follow. Not sure just what to say because everything had already been said. "So, um… what's your talent?" Shuichi asks, trying to keep a decent conversation flow going.
"Ultimate Supreme Leader." It's less impressive than it sounds.
"Oh-! Really?" Shuichi appears a bit stunned. "So you, um… run an organization?"
"Yep. With members of over 10,000." Something within him tells him to lie about the number, and it's quite amusing to see the other male's reaction.
"I've… never heard of an organization with such high numbers before. Does it have a name?"
Kokichi can't help but smile; something about teasing Shuichi feels normal and natural. "Maybe, or maybe not. It's a secret." It's a bit funnier to see his expression turn so serious, as if the words had any actual substance when they genuinely don't. "I am a liar, after all. Who knows what I say is the truth?"
Shuichi's shoulders slant, and his expression returns to normal. "...Huh." It's an ambiguous sound that leaves Kokichi wondering what it meant. Probably just a reply of acknowledgement, but he could tell he was thinking long and hard.
"You sound disappointed," he notes.
"No, not really. I'm just… thinking," Shuichi replies quietly.
"About?"
"Well, um… one of our classmates, Kaito, kind of called you a little weird. And, um… I'm thinking that's not really true. Even if you kind of stalked me most of the day." He finishes his sentence with a small chuckle. Somehow still understanding for some reason. It doesn't really make sense.
"For someone pretty much commenting that they were stalked, you seem a bit too carefree about it."
"Well, ah… I don't think you have any ill intentions. Plus, you're kind of interesting. From what I've figured out, anyhow."
Kokichi stops dead in his tracks. Those words strike an all-too familiar chord. The context feels right in a way, like wedging a puzzle piece in the right place. And it… it just makes anything functional immediately stop functioning so he can figure out just why. Why does none of this make any sense but he understands it anyways? "...He's kind of right, I mean."
"I'd prefer to make those assumptions on my own, actually. I'm not really into gossip, to be honest."
"So, what, you want to get to know me or something?" He raises a brow.
"...I wouldn't mind," comes Shuichi's voice, kind and empathetic. It feels familiar and warm, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts to something entirely. The feel of the handle of a knife, fingers spread apart, pink blood. "You're, um, kind of the first person that hasn't really asked over a million questions about me." Something about that statement seems untrue, but Kokichi wasn't sure why.
"That's not your actual reason, is it?" He's staring up again, almost like another challenge. One that he's not in for the reward of winning, but rather the thrill of the chase. He'll never be able to understand why he's so drawn to this mysterious boy, but he was willing to figure it out.
"Ah, you could tell, huh?" Shuichi chuckles awkwardly. Not holding eye contact for more than two seconds before glancing away. "Actually, you seem like someone I'd want to get to know. For some reason. So, um… Yeah." He's extending out his hand, and for some reason that gesture causes the breath in Kokichi's throat to pause.
Because somehow it feels like a barrier of trust had already long been established, unspoken but still existent and important. Like it's a raft in an endless abyss, supportive and sturdy.
Kokichi takes his hand. Shaking it briefly.
"...Nice to meet you, then. Shuichi."