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The mysterious, red string is tied tightly around Kokichi’s fingertip, its bright lace stretching as far as the eye can see. He experiments again and motions his other hand through the long line, but it is to no avail. He always thought that it’s made out of fabric, soft and not made out of rubber. But his hand only passes through nothing, just air.
His musings are right. The thread does not physically exist.
“You’re doing it again.”
The purple-haired boy breaks from his trance as he turns to his colleague, Rantaro Amami of the other unit. There is mist that lingers in the cold air when he speaks, which isn’t surprising. It is already in the middle of spring, and they are on their way home after a long, tiring day of work.
“Moving your hand weirdly, I mean.” He adds. “You’ve been doing it a lot lately.”
Rantaro’s basil fringes shift slightly when he tilts his head, curious. It’s an obvious indication that he can’t see the red string - only Kokichi can.
Kokichi returns his friend’s sigh. He doesn’t know how to explain it, either. One day, it was just there, and no matter how much he had followed it, the string only stretched further and further.
It’s unsettling to him, but in the past week he’s had it, he learned not to mind it as much. After all, it’s not like the string ever hurts or anything, and the only thing that bothers him is the fact that it never disappears.
Even so, he’s still curious about what it is for. What can be at the end? Will this string lead him to riches? Will he die if he follows the string even further?
When Kokichi realizes that he hasn’t said anything yet, he purses his lips, then speaks. “I’m just practicing an innovative way of waving, Rantaro, can’t you tell?” He snarks like what he’s saying is serious. “If we keep making the same gestures, society would stay boring.”
“What does that even…” Rantaro almost grimaces in confusion, but he gives up.
In the silence, the two are left in their own musings, walking in the cold weather with their hands shoved inside the pockets of their coats.
“Anyway, you haven’t been yourself lately, Kokichi.” Rantaro finally speaks again, making his friend raise a brow out of amusement. “If something’s bothering you, just let me know, okay? I’ll try to help.”
“Mm, if you say so.” Kokichi nods, gazes ahead in some indifference. His mind drifts to somewhere else completely, yet the red string is still stretched straight before him.
When Rantaro and Kokichi part, the latter is left at the train station, his fingertips cold as he clasps his hands together. The twilight is soon upon him, and he wonders if the train is going to be late again.
The crowd of waiting passengers gradually grows around him, the announcement of the train’s arrival blaring through the speakers. It’s cold. Tiring. He wants to sleep.
Kokichi watches the string on his finger to pass time, the red glow flickering like it sometimes does. He can never move it by himself, but even if it does, it is only slight, and it returns to its old direction.
All of a sudden, the string moves again.
Kokichi flinches slightly at the sudden movement, noticing that the string was moving more frequently than before, its glow flickering on and off more rapidly. Then before his surprise can leave him, the train arrives and stops. The string that’s tied at his fingertip is no longer stretched - the red lace only falls limply on the floor of the platform, as though the other end of the string is nearby.
It’s here.
The crowd of people walks their way to the train, pushing Kokichi’s frozen body as he’s forced to walk clumsily along them.
It is no longer cold. The familiar, suffocating smell of the interior train almost distracts him from his previous excitement, pushing him to move further into the train. He only tries to find a way to be comfortable in the pack of sweaty people. He just wants to go home. Kokichi feels more nauseous than usual.
“Ah!” He yelps when he’s suddenly shoved by the crowd in front of him, moving backwards to make more space. Then, all of a sudden, he feels someone’s arms catching him from behind.
“Hey, u-um, are you alright?”
The concerned voice asks him. Kokichi doesn’t speak, yet he soon regains his bearings and stands properly, turning slightly to the boy who’s caught him.
“Oh…” Kokichi trails off, his eyes meeting the stranger’s gray ones. His lashes are long, he notices, and he thinks that he might be the prettiest boy he’s ever seen. “Thanks for saving me, prince.” He adds a tease, giving him his chipper grin just to cover up his nervousness.
After all, the end of the string is tied at the fingertip of the stranger.