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“So,” Tenko started, her hands on her hips, “do you two remember the plan?”
“Why’re you lookin’ at me?” Himiko mumbled as she yawned, but nodded anyway. Curled up on the plush sofa, the nondescript purple hoodie she wore was way too big for her body, something Shuichi observed as his eyes flitted over to where the mage sat.
There was the sound of a cough, prompting him to look back at Tenko, who stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Shuichi?”
“I remember,” he said with a sigh, dipping his head. How could he possibly forget, when Tenko had basically dragged him out of his room an hour ago, forcing him to sit on the couch before launching into discussions of… battle strategies? At the time, Shuichi had been filling in his journal, humming to himself as he jotted down his thoughts. He had been so engrossed in his own writing that the sound of the bedroom door slamming open, along with Tenko yelling his name, had caused him to let out a startled scream.
The memory of ink splattering across paper crossed his mind. Shuichi grimaced at the knowledge that one of his journal pages was permanently stained with a jagged zig-zag, courtesy of Tenko’s sudden interruption.
“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Tenko commented, snapping Shuichi back to attention. Her lips curled into the barest hints of a frown, one hand reaching up to rub her chin. “The one when you’re thinking too hard.”
Ah. Shuichi flustered. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’re not very good at hiding things, Shuichi,” Himiko teased, poking him in the arm as his cheeks grew hotter. “It’s kinda impressive that you got away with lyin’ so much back in the game.”
“Yeah,” Tenko added, crossing her arms as she nodded vigorously in agreement. “You’ve always got this, like— angry look? Your eyes get all serious, and you look like you’re about to yell at someone!”
Himiko giggled. “I think he jus’ looks tired! C’mon, Shuichi, what’s on your mind?”
“I… ah—” Ducking his head, Shuichi avoided the two girls’ gazes — Himiko’s a tired sort of playful, her hand continuing to poke him in the side; Tenko’s a firm stare, peering down at him from above. He shrugged. “It’s not all that important, really.”
At that, Tenko snorted. “Really?” Shuichi could just about imagine the impatient look in her eyes, the way her lips would have twitched in response to his quiet mumble. Living with Tenko gave him insights into that, into her body language, observing just how much the girl emoted with a detective instinct that Shuichi didn’t deserve to have.
The poking feeling in his arm grew faster, jabbing harder, before he heard a sigh. “Well, he ain’t budging. Tenko, whack ‘im.”
Shuichi froze. “Wait, what?”
“You got it, Himiko!” And before Shuichi could react, the sudden smack of a pillow right in his face sent him falling backwards with a muffled shriek, the sound of laughter surrounding him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll— gah!” With a groan, Shuichi shoved the pillow to the side, wincing as he sat upright. Just how did Tenko manage to make a pillow hurt that much? Rubbing his forehead, he winced. “Eugh.”
“Finally gonna tell us what’s on your mind?” Tenko asked, in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t really a question, but more of a demand. Still, the way she looked at him was lighter, a cheeriness underlining her words and expressions — and that, Shuichi thought, was an accomplishment for the two of them, considering Tenko’s ingrained disgust towards men.
That disgust was the reason why Shuichi didn’t want to tell her or Himiko what was on his mind, wanting to avoid another lengthy argument. It was the reason why he played it off as unimportant; irrelevant.
Still, he relented, because with Tenko standing in front of him triumphantly, head cocked to the side, and Himiko sitting next to him, shaking him lightly with a bright look in her eyes, Shuichi was trapped.
Curse these two and their unrelenting curiosity.
Shuichi took a deep breath, and then he spoke.
“Tenko,” he began, eyes flicking upwards to meet the other girl’s gaze. “We’re going to the supermarket.”
“And?” Tenko prompted, the corners of her lips turning upwards into a sharp grin. Which, quite frankly, terrified Shuichi. Just the tiniest bit.
He furrowed his brows. “You don’t… need to plan this out. We’re not going to treat the supermarket like a war zone. I understand the caution, but this—” Gesturing at the large sheets of paper covering the coffee table, each of them filled with crudely drawn layouts of the supermarket and labelled with strategies to blaze through it as quickly as possible, Shuichi groaned. “This is… a bit too much.”
“Oh, so you’d rather get mobbed by the fans instead?” Tenko rebutted, and Shuichi dragged his hands down his face, letting out the longest, weariest sigh known in the history of mankind.
This is going to take a while.
It wasn’t as if Shuichi disagreed with Tenko’s reasoning for wanting to get their grocery shopping over and done with; the fanbase for Danganronpa was humongous, a cultural phenomenon not only in Japan, but throughout the entire world. What that meant was that, more often than not, the three of them — and any of their fellow cast members, really — would be recognised out in public by the sharp eyes of a particularly inquisitive fan, approaching them with starstruck expressions.
But at the same time, he really didn’t want to speedrun grocery shopping. Not when Tenko’s plans seemed more akin to the elaborate strategies created by people preparing for battle, with an almost definite chance of exhausting Himiko and Shuichi midway through.
Ironically enough, Shuichi thought that Tenko’s plans would bring more attention to them. After all, who wouldn’t take notice of a trio of shoppers sprinting through the supermarket like lunatics?
In the end, Shuichi’s logical arguments prevailed over Tenko’s thinly veiled paranoia, managing to convince her that no, we don’t need to strategise speedrunning the supermarket and Tenko, you know we’re going to encounter fans anyways, right?
Regardless of her reason for caving, Shuichi was just glad that he didn’t have to barrel through the aisles of the supermarket in ten minutes, trying frantically to buy everything on the lengthy “To-buy” list that Himiko had prepared earlier.
“I asked everyone in the group chat,” Himiko explained, holding out her phone to show Shuichi what she had been texting. “I mean… if they’re all gonna come over to watch the season, then we should get more snacks, y’know?”
Dread crawled down Shuichi’s spine as he looked at the walls of text Himiko was presenting him. For one, he could practically feel his wallet crumbling into dust. Buying that many snacks on top of their regular groceries was going to be a quadruple whammy to their shared savings. More importantly though—
“Why does Kokichi want purple ketchup?” Shuichi asked incredulously, squinting at the screen. To that, Himiko only shrugged.
“How would I know?” she grumbled, pouting. “It’s Kokichi. He’s always asking for weird stuff, or whatever.”
Donning a few plain articles of clothing alongside nondescript hats, the trio had made their way over to the nearest supermarket, making the trip on foot. As soon as they stepped inside, the glass doors opening automatically for them, Shuichi turned towards Tenko, his voice low. “You have your list, right?”
“Yep!” With a nod, Tenko fished the crumpled piece of paper out of her jacket pocket, the beige coat borrowed from Shuichi. Though she had whined and moaned about borrowing Shuichi’s clothes, Tenko eventually relented for the sake of anonymity, especially when Himiko finally realised Tenko’s war tactics would tire her out easily and had joined Shuichi in arguing against the stubborn girl.
“Just know that I hate this,” Tenko grumbled as she pulled one of the jacket sleeves over her shoulders, a scowl etched into her expression.
“You don’t hafta like it,” Himiko pointed out, arms folded across the back of the sofa as she watched Tenko trudge over from Shuichi’s room. The redhead paused, before she smiled. “But if it makes ya feel better, you look kinda pretty with that.”
Himiko’s compliment, Shuichi mused to himself, is probably the only reason why she’s not complaining about it anymore.
Tenko unfolded the list, running through it quickly. “Okay, so Himiko and I will tackle the snacks, you handle our actual groceries.” She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “Got it?”
“Got it,” Shuichi echoed, a niggling thought crossing his mind. Pausing, he turned his head, taking a quick look around their immediate vicinity. Thankfully, it wasn’t that busy a morning, with most shoppers either preoccupied with work or stuck at school, so there wasn’t anyone around except for him and—
Oh.
“I… think we lost Himiko,” Shuichi said gingerly, shoulders tensing as he spoke. The way Tenko’s eyes bulged would have been comical if it wasn’t for the way her voice rose, cutting through the calm atmosphere of the relatively quiet supermarket.
“We WHAT?!”
As soon as they had realised that the third member of their party was gone, Tenko had spluttered out a hasty, jumbled mess of words that Shuichi hadn’t understood, and then sprinted off. Before he could call out after her, unsure about what Tenko had said, the rambunctious girl had disappeared from sight, leaving Shuichi behind. Alone.
Hovering in front of the glass doors in a stunned silence, Shuichi fidgeted nervously. Eyes darting to the side, he bit his lips. Being left alone at the entrance of the supermarket without any other shoppers nearby was, in a way, uncomfortably awkward.
Rather than stay idle, Shuichi had instead grabbed a small shopping cart and a basket, plonking it down in the trolley before setting off. With his own list in one hand — a folded sheet of paper, nothing like the crumpled mess that was Tenko’s list — and his other pushing the cart, Shuichi jumped into the steady routine of grocery shopping.
If he was being honest, it wasn’t all that bad. There was something peaceful about pushing the cart along the polished tiled floors, flanked by shelves upon shelves of neatly stocked items. As he allowed himself to relax, shoulders loosening as a small smile crossed his lips, Shuichi got to work checking each item off his list, the pile in his basket growing with each passing moment.
They were more or less out of fresh fruits and vegetables, so he grabbed some of those. Himiko had a penchant for apples despite her reluctance towards anything green, crunchy, or associated with the healthier side of the food pyramid, so he made sure to pick those up before moving on. Sweets were a given, but Shuichi figured he’d let the two of them handle it — assuming Tenko managed to find Himiko in the labyrinthic supermarket, of course, considering her earlier disappearance. He’d already passed her once, her face red as she sprinted past him at lightning speed.
Anything to do with… women’s sanitary stuff though, he left to them. While Shuichi was happy to pick up something from the drugstore if they requested it of him, the sheer number of discussions he had with Tenko over the specific brands they needed often left her disgruntled, and him beet red in the face.
Crossing another item off the list with his ink pen, Shuichi smiled, satisfied. That’s half the list done. Now let’s see… What's next?
It was Himiko’s request for sugary cereal that led him to where he was now, squinting at the tiny selection of boxes laid out before him. Shuichi was so engrossed in trying to choose between two different boxes of expensive imported cereal that when he felt a light tap against his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let out a startled yelp. Whirling around, he came face to face with—
Two girls?
They weren’t Himiko and Tenko. Both of them had dark hair, but where one was dressed up in a fancy jacket and a matching skirt, the other wore jeans and a shirt that Shuichi slowly realised was a Danganronpa shirt. It wasn’t of him, thankfully, but still; seeing the cheerful face of Kaede printed across the cotton fabric was enough of a wake-up call for him — a bunch of fans had found him.
“Uh,” Shuichi uttered inelegantly as the two girls beamed at him expectantly. He ducked his head, coughing nervously into his arm. Why was there suddenly a horrible lump in his throat? And— what the hell was he supposed to say or do anyways?
The truth was, the chances of running into a Danganronpa fan in public could never truly be zero percent, a fact that Shuichi was well-aware of. He had encountered fans more often than not, and to say that he wasn’t supposed to get badgered by anyone was nothing more than a blatant lie.
That didn’t mean that Shuichi couldn’t still bemoan the fact that he had been recognised, despite the precautions that he, Tenko, and Himiko had taken, from the plain clothes they wore to the time they visited. There was a reason why they’d chosen to visit the supermarket in the morning, at an hour where most people would either be stuck working or at school.
It was just—
Frustrating.
A tiny part of Shuichi wondered if, perhaps, Tenko had a point in preparing war strategies to get through their grocery run as quickly as possible. Maybe the exhaustion and muscle aches he would have gotten would be better than interacting with Danganronpa’s… interesting fanbase.
A larger part of Shuichi reminded him that following Tenko’s plan would knock both him and Himiko out cold, leaving them with pains in their body for days afterwards. Not to mention that there was a distinct possibility of one or two videos of their mad grocery dash circulating on social media. Tenko was, after all, a loud person.
“You’re Shuichi Saihara, right?” the girl with the Kaede t-shirt asked, her voice breathless as she stared at him with stars in her eyes.
Cornered in the dinky little cereal aisle, eyes darting to the side to see if he could make a run for it without looking like a lunatic — to which the answer was no, disappointingly enough — Shuichi had no choice but to smile painfully and nod.
The girl squealed, clasping her hands together as her jacket-wearing friend placed a hand on her shoulder, presumably to calm her down. “Oh my gosh, okay, okay,” she fretted, turning around so Shuichi couldn’t see her face. “I’m so— aah! I didn’t expect to meet Shuichi Saihara— I just wanted to buy food—”
“Calm down,” her friend soothed, patting her gently. Glancing back at Shuichi, she flashed him an apologetic look. “Sorry about this, she’s just very obsessed with Danganronpa.”
“I-It’s no problem,” Shuichi replied weakly. Curse his inability to stand up for himself when faced with fans! If the girls were wild and unruly, then he could at least get away with sprinting for the supermarket staff and exposing his identity to get them escorted out, but they seemed nice.
And the nice fans were arguably worse, because he had to interact with them.
It wasn’t that Shuichi hated his fans — or rather, Danganronpa fans. For the most part, a lot of the fans he had encountered on the streets were relatively respectful, confident enough to approach him to talk while also being aware that he was an actual person. They avoided following him around like crazed stalkers, and they didn’t blab his ear off, usually wrapping up the conversation within several minutes. It was difficult to hate that, especially when everybody seemed so… genuine.
But there was also something so disconcerting, so wrong about talking to people who cheered and partied over his trauma and the false deaths of all his friends, treating him like he acted out the role of the Ultimate Detective, where in reality, Shuichi only acted like himself.
Even if he didn’t hold any memories of his life before Danganronpa, Shuichi Saihara, the almost-Detective, was who he was now. And to be glorified as an actor when he went through hell and back…
It was just so uncomfortable.
Still, he couldn’t quite excuse himself, not when the supermarket was as empty as it was, and the two girls seemed nice enough to not be screaming in his face about him and Kaede, or Kokichi, or even Maki.
The questions about Maki were the worst, Shuichi sighed internally to himself, because even he didn’t know what would happen to her outside of what little she had told him.
Thinking about Maki got him thinking about the newest season of Danganronpa, and oh, okay, the Kaede-shirt-wearing girl was turning around, supported by her friend as Shuichi squirmed nervously, plastering a weak smile on his face.
“Sorry, sorry,” the girl squeaked out, bowing to him as he mumbled out something about no problem, the lie slipping easily from his lips. “Um, I’m Hitomi Nishimura, and this is Rina Takagi,” she introduced, gesturing to her friend who simply gave him a lazy wave. “We just spotted you from afar, and— well, I’m a really big fan of Danganronpa, you see—”
Shuichi prayed to whatever was out there that neither of the girls noticed the way he cringed at their words, teetering between the overwhelming desire to drop everything and run, and the social shackles of politeness he was bound to.
The girl — Hitomi? — was still rambling, Shuichi realised, shuffling his feet slightly as she went on a tangent about how much she adored his role as the protagonist of V3. The detective wasn’t quite sure if that was better or worse than the fans who screamed bloody murder at him for replacing Kaede, though he was leaning ever so slightly towards the better side of the scale.
Hitomi’s friend — was her name Rina? — nudged her after a while, gesturing at the tiny cereal aisle. “I’m glad you ran into your idol and all,” she started, both Shuichi and Hitomi’s faces turning bright red, though for very different reasons, “but I’m not too fond of standing around in a supermarket all day. Just grab your cereal and let’s go.”
“Ohhh, right.” With a disappointed sigh, Hitomi stepped forward. “Could you step to the side please?”
“You’re also buying cereal?” Shuichi asked stupidly as he moved, watching as she reached for a colourful cardboard box.
Hitomi paused, before she said, “Well, yeah, that’s why I asked you to move.” Despite the way Shuichi ducked his head, a thousand emotions swirling in his chest as his mind screamed at him to get out of this hell situation, her voice was light, not a single bit of judgement in her words.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Shuichi bit back a groan. “Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing up at the shelf. “I’ve been here for a bit, trying to figure out which one of these are… sugary cereal.”
“Your best bet is either that, or that,” Hitomi suggested, pointing a finger at two different brands. One was colourful and circular, with a cartoonish bird mascot printed on the cardboard packaging; the other was starry in theme, with a bear dressed in an astronaut outfit — and if Shuichi bit his lips at the sight, heart twinging ever so slightly, he hoped neither of the girls noticed. The only thing the two cereals had in common was that they were obviously imported, with English words plastered across the boxes.
With a mutter of thanks, Shuichi grabbed one of each, far too tired of his cereal choosing dilemma to spend another couple of minutes debating over which to bring home. Sure, his wallet would crumble a tiny bit more, but Himiko would be sated — and Tenko too. The taller girl wasn’t as slick as she thought she was, pouring herself a bowl every morning before Himiko had even woken up. It was the worst kept secret in their household, up there with the reason why they had an extra futon when they all had comfortable beds of their own, and the fact that Himiko kept stealing his and Tenko’s hoodies.
Dumping the boxes in his basket-cart, Shuichi took a deep breath before turning to face the two girls, a smile plastered across his face. “Thank you,” he said, and his words were at least partially sincere, because they did help, but on the other hand…
He just really wanted to leave the cereal aisle. Get out of there as fast as he could, pushing his cart as far as his legs could take him until he hopefully barrelled into Tenko, still running around, or even Himiko, wherever she had ended up in the supermarket.
“I must get going now,” he forced out, nodding at Hitomi and Rina, the former of which looked mildly disappointed. “It was nice to meet you.”
Hopefully they didn’t notice the blatant way he was lying through his teeth. He could hear the ghost of Himiko’s voice taunting him as he wrapped his hands around the handle of his shopping cart, poking fun at him for being such an awful liar.
He had just about managed to take a few steps away, moving out of the godforsaken cereal aisle, when he heard one of the girls shout, “Wait!”
Clenching his jaw, trying so hard not to lash out violently or take off sprinting, Shuichi turned around.
“Um— I—” Hitomi was fumbling with her words, hand reaching into the pockets of her pants to pull out her phone. Ducking her head, she let out a squeak. Her friend sighed.
“Oh, for god’s sake—” Shaking her head, Rina turned to Shuichi, a glint in her eyes. “My friend wants a picture with you,” she said — not a question, but a statement, a demand. Standing there under the weight of her predatory gaze, Shuichi felt cornered.
His mouth dried.
Rina tilted her head, strands of dark hair swaying as she spoke. “Is that fine?”
“I— uh,” Shuichi stammered, beads of sweat forming along his forehead. Hitomi was staring at him expectantly, her lips quivering, and for not the first time that day, Shuichi prayed to whatever was out there listening that he could escape from this situation alive. “I-I’m sorry,” he eventually managed to stutter out, “but I’m not really one for photographs—”
“But I saw this one picture—” Hitomi interrupted, voice hinging on frantic as Shuichi took a cautionary step backwards. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. “Ah! Uh, I mean— one of my classmates met you a while ago, at D-Dangancon.”
Dangancon. That explained it.
Dangancon, where Shuichi was contractually obligated to sit around and smile pleasantly with the rest of his castmates by his side, with the exceptions of a still-asleep Kaito, a sacrificed Maki and Keebo, and strangest of all, the mastermind Tsumugi. An event where he had been ushered from panel to panel, booth to booth, forced to sit down and sign copious amounts of merchandise while obsessive fans chattered to him about how much they loved watching his friends die, trying and often failing to touch him with their hands.
To this day, Shuichi couldn’t rid his mind of the memories of seeing his own determined face plastered against merchandise of every category — cotton shirts, official and otherwise, and doujins of the safe and not-so-safe variety; plastic buckets, a hand-painted bowling ball, and even underwear.
It was no wonder that he and Tenko had decided to ditch together at some point during the event, taking their break to go wander around — away from the fans. They had run into Tsumugi at some point, decked out in a cosplay of some blue-haired girl from the very first instalment in the Danganronpa series, seething with a quiet rage about being deliberately excluded from whatever pre-season 54 hype the V3 cast was involved in.
But that wasn’t the point; meeting Tsumugi wasn’t the point. The point was that Shuichi was contractually obligated to take pictures with adoring, faceless fans at the largest convention for everything in the Danganronpa franchise. But in the grocery store?
There was nothing forcing him to say yes; nothing stopping him from walking away callously.
But stuck between the pleading, puppy-dog eyes of Hitomi and the dangerous, shark-toothed grin of Rina, the dark-haired boy felt as if he didn’t have a choice.
And then, like an angel from the heavens, like a goddess descending from above, he heard a familiar, shrill voice. “SHUICHI!”
He turned on his heel to watch Tenko come into view, sprinting through the aisle towards him. And if it wasn’t for the fact that she would have slammed him against the floor in a chokehold for attempting to do so, Shuichi would have gladly picked her up and hugged her tightly, far too elated at the fact that he was now free.
“Where have you BEEN?” Tenko ranted, though her words lacked any real anger. “I’ve been looking all over for you, I found Hi—”
And then she paused, green eyes flitting between Shuichi’s relieved form and the two girls standing stock-still nearby, before finally coming to rest on the phone in Hitomi’s hand, wrapped in a black-and-white Monokuma case. Mouth agape, all she could muster was a flat-sounding “Oh.”
“Hey Tenko,” Shuichi greeted, his voice half-cheery and half please save me. “I met some fans.”
Stealing a glance back at the two girls, Shuichi raised an eyebrow at the way Rina’s eyes had bulged, fixated on Tenko in a way she hadn’t done for him. It was similar to the way that her friend Hitomi had stared at Shuichi, and Shuichi shuddered at the realisation that Hitomi wasn’t the only Danganronpa fan between the two of them, even if she was the more obsessive one.
Tenko snapped back to attention, taking charge of the situation immediately. Moving on instinct, she stepped forward, a grin on her face as she faced the two girls. “Heya!” she greeted, allowing Shuichi to gratefully move away, out of sight and hopefully out of mind. “I didn’t expect to meet such cute fans today,” Tenko laughed, and the compliments worked.
That was how their little trio’s interactions with their fans went whenever they were out together, caught on the streets or at a ramen store by one person or another. Tenko would take the stage with her extroverted attitude, captivating the attention of whoever they had run into, while Shuichi and Himiko retreated behind her, far less comfortable with the spotlight.
Tenko was rambling now, hands moving as she got up close with the two fans. “Shuichi’s a bit shy, y’know?” she said with an offhand wave in his direction, allowing Shuichi to lower his head in feigned timidity, his heart hammering against his chest. “But no matter! If you cuties want a picture, you can have one with me! How’s that sound?”
Rina was already speaking, sounding far more enthusiastic than before, but Shuichi tuned out of the conversation, pulling the cart with him as he walked backwards slowly. He only allowed himself to well and truly breathe after ducking around a corner, finally having escaped from that awkward, painful, uncomfortable interaction.
He was absentmindedly studying the packaging of one of the cereal boxes he had chucked into the cart, trying to make out all the different drawings and words plastered across the back of the cardboard in bright colours, when Tenko finally rejoined him. The dark-haired girl was disgruntled, huffing as she stepped up to his side, but Shuichi knew that any frustration she held wasn’t directed at him; would never be directed at him.
Not in this particular situation. Not with the fans.
“Thank you,” Shuichi said genuinely, and Tenko shrugged, face tinting pink as she grumbled under her breath.
“You’d better be,” she muttered, which Shuichi had, over time, learnt that it stood for Tenko’s own version of “You’re welcome.” With an exaggerated stretch and a yawn, Tenko turned to look at him while they moved together, walking slightly faster so as to lead the way. “Seriously,” she started, giving him an incredulous look. “How did you get caught? You—”
“I don’t know!” Shuichi interrupted, voice pitching slightly in the way it always did whenever he talked with Tenko, their conversations leaning towards banter more often than not. And— yeah, he didn’t know, because he had put on a boring, old green baseball hat that didn’t match his usual style, combined with a hoodie that was far too blue for his muted tastes. He had tried to go incognito to the best of his ability, and failed.
How on earth had those two recognised him from a distance, with Shuichi’s back facing them? How?
Tenko skipped ahead before whirling around, walking backwards so she could meet his eyes as they moved. “Shuichi,” she began in a dead serious voice, “you are the most generic looking man I know. You literally blend in with the crowd. Himiko’s got red hair, and I am incredibly pretty, but you—” Tenko jabbed a finger in his direction, “—look like any old boring degenerate male I’ve seen walking on the streets.”
The cart slowed to a stop, the wheels screeching slightly. Shuichi stared at Tenko, bewildered. “I… I’m sorry?” he eventually replied, uncertain.
Tenko folded her arms, the corners of her lips curling into a smile. “You’re better at avoiding the fans than me and Himi. And yet somehow, you’re the only one who got caught today.”
Shuichi glowered, to which Tenko barked out a laugh. “Now c’mon!” she added, spinning around to march on as if she hadn’t just insulted Shuichi right to the face, right after he had been heckled by a duo of insistent fans. “Let’s go meet Himiko.”
Tenko guided him through the twisting labyrinth that was the supermarket until they came to a stop at one of the refrigerated corners of the store, where a familiar figure was leaning against the frosty glass.
“Oh goodie, you’re back,” Himiko greeted, as if she hadn’t ditched them to go wandering off in search of… something; Shuichi didn’t know what. The redhead patted the shopping cart next to her, the plastic basket stocked with a mountain of snacks — bottled and canned drinks, crinkly potato chips packaging, wrapped sweets, chocolates and biscuits, and more. “I got everything we need!”
Shuichi bit his lips, eyes fixated on Himiko’s basket of goodies. “Are you… sure?”
“Yep!” Pulling out her phone, Himiko’s face was illuminated with the dim light of the screen as she swiped a finger across the device, unlocking it. “You guys were, mm, just kinda hanging at the entrance, so I thought maybe I’d get a head’s start, y’know?”
“You ditched us and went missing,” Tenko pointed out flatly, causing Himiko to stiffen. At that, the dark-haired girl softened, shoulders loosening. “You scared me, Himiko! I was so busy looking for you, and this place’s massive!”
“‘m sorry,” Himiko mumbled, shrinking into herself. “Uhm, in my defence though, I texted you guys.”
“Only after I found you!” With a sigh, Tenko shook her head. “Ugh, it doesn’t matter.” Walking over, she patted Himiko’s shoulder. “Hey, cheer up! I found you, didn’t I? Anyways, at least you didn’t encounter some fans like Shuichi did—”
Himiko blanched. “He what?”
“Ah… maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, Tenko,” Shuichi said, wincing at how unnerved Himiko seemed. “It’s fine now. Tenko chased them off.”
“That, I did!” Tenko cheered, punching the air with an enthusiasm that Shuichi lacked, and Himiko couldn’t muster up. Placing a hand on her hip, Tenko turned back to Himiko, snapping her fingers with her other hand. “Hey, didn’t you say there was something you wanted to show us?”
At that, Himiko perked up, any despondence forgotten in favour of nodding eagerly. “Yeah! It’s over here.” Turning around, she poked a finger against the glass door she was leaning on, causing Tenko and Shuichi to move closer, trying to peer through the glass at whatever Himiko was pointing at. “You see that there?”
It took a while, but eventually Shuichi caught sight of something, his eyes widening. It was Tenko who spoke first though, voice rising as—
“Is that us?” she gasped, confirming Shuichi’s suspicions. “Wait, Himiko— Himi, move please—”
Stepping out of the way, Himiko watched with a smug smile as Tenko threw open the glass door, a blast of cold air bursting out of the freezer. Reaching into the icy depths, Tenko stammered at the pack of sixteen canned drinks in her hands, unable to utter a single word.
So Shuichi did it instead. “What the hell?”
“I thought they got rid of all this already!” Tenko groaned, glaring daggers at the sixteen-pack she was holding like it had personally insulted her somehow. “Our season is over— good riddance!”
“We gotta buy this, guys, we gotta—” As Himiko spoke, her voice began to crack, peels of laughter accompanying her every word. As Tenko made a disgusted noise, she suddenly shoved the drinks into Shuichi’s arms ignoring the dark-haired boy’s “H-hey!” as she kicked the freezer door shut.
“I don’t want to look at that any more.”
“Oh, c’mon Tenko,” Himiko pleaded, turning on the charm factor — something all three of them knew would sway Tenko. “Look, I already told the others about it—”
“Is that why my phone was blowing up?” Shuichi interrupted, mind flashing back to earlier when he was picking up any condiments they needed. His phone had kept on vibrating non-stop to the point where Shuichi had muted it, officially sick of seeing nothing but dozens upon hundreds of texts from Kokichi and Miu in the “New Season of Danganronpa” group chat that Kaede had created. They were talking about this while I was looking for purple ketchup?
Tenko pursed her lips, though there was a small twinkle in her eyes and an ease to her shoulders. “I refuse to drink Danganronpa merchandise,” she declared with the confidence of a thousand suns.
Though after a moment’s pause, she glanced at the drinks in Shuichi’s arms before asking, “What flavour am I, Shuichi?”
He inspected the packaging closely, running his fingers over the printed words as he squinted. “I think… salty watermelon?”
“Salty what—”
“See,” Himiko implored, her free hand latching around Tenko’s wrist tightly. “You gotta try it, Tenko! C’mon!” With another pleading glance at Shuichi, Himiko added, “Kokichi also said he wants to try the, uh, Kokichi-cola! Yeah! That’s what he called it!”
Shuichi choked, spluttering at the mage’s words as the mental image of Kokichi goading him into buying the drink popped into his mind.
Tenko stared at him, then back at Himiko, before exaggerating a sigh of defeat. “Fine.”
Shuichi was relegated to carrying the sixteen pack of sodas as they made their way to the checkout, Tenko having taken over pushing his cart of regular groceries. Himiko, perhaps stubbornly, decided to push her own cart of desserts all by herself, and though it took them a while to reach the exit, the mage was proud of being able to do that all by herself.
Now, as they walked back home together through the empty streets, plastic bags in their hands, Himiko turned to Shuichi, a curious look on her face. “Didja get the purple ketchup?”
Tenko glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Purple ketchup?” she echoed.
“Uh, no I didn’t,” Shuichi admitted with a sheepish laugh. “I couldn’t find it at all, and I really didn’t want to ask any of the employees for help. But I found an alternative, I think.”
“Which is?” Himiko blinked at him, and Shuichi felt his throat dry.
Ah… This is a bit embarrassing. Coughing slightly to clear the lump in his throat, Shuichi said, “I just got ketchup and purple food colouring.” He shrugged. “I… guess that’ll work? Maybe?”
“Purple ketchup doesn’t exist,” Tenko argued, rolling her eyes. With a snort, she grumbled, “What’s that little shit doing asking you to get purple ketchup anyways?”
“It doesn’t exist yet, Tenko,” Himiko retorted, though her voice was light. The group came to a stop at the traffic light, waiting for the pedestrian crossing to turn green. Across the road from them was their massive apartment complex, and as Shuichi glanced up at the familiar buildings, he felt a wave of relief wash over him at the thought of crossing past the security guards and into the safety of a monitored neighbourhood.
Himiko was still talking, chattering on and on. “We can make it, y’kno? Just… dump purple food colouring into ketchup! It’ll be cool!”
“It would’ve been cool if Kokichi wasn’t the one asking for it.”
“Tenko, you do know Kokichi’s coming over later, right?” Shuichi interrupted, to which Tenko groaned.
“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. In front of them, the pedestrian lights finally switched from red to green, a humming sound filling the air. As they moved, Tenko leading the way and Himiko lagging just a step behind Shuichi, the taller girl bared her teeth. “When I see him, it’s on sight.”
“I—” Shuichi felt a shiver ripple through his body at the thinly veiled threat. He held in his words until he reached the other side safely, stopping next to the curb. “Tenko, you know I invited him, right…?”
Tenko glanced at him. “Yeah, you did. For the record, Shuichi, you have shit taste in men.”
At her blunt words, Shuichi felt as if his face had exploded into fire, feeling his cheeks burn as Tenko levelled him with a hard stare. All he could hear was Himiko’s bubbly laughter as Tenko rambled on about something, her words unintelligible as Shuichi stared at the cracked pavement beneath his feet, chest exploding with a thousand emotions.
He felt a nudge against his shoulder. Shuichi looked over at Himiko, who gave him a warm smile. “Hey, c’mon Shuichi! Tenko isn’t gonna kill Kokichi, right?”
Tenko didn’t reply.
Himiko paused, before she repeated her words with more force. “Right, Tenko?”
“I’m only letting him in because he’s coming with Miu and Kaede,” Tenko bit out, avoiding Shuichi’s gaze.
“...Please don’t kill him?”
“No promises.”
Himiko groaned. “Tenkoooooo—”
With a heavy sigh, Tenko relented, defeated. “Fine. I will not kill Kokichi Ouma. At least,” she added, with a tilt of her head, eyes flashing, “not in front of Miu or Kaede.”
The implications of what would happen if Tenko caught Kokichi alone without the presence of his two women housemates went unsaid. And yet, everyone in their little trio silently understood what she meant. As he stood there on the pavement, glancing at Tenko’s stubborn form as she let out a huff, Shuichi wondered if maybe he should warn Kokichi ahead of time about his housemate’s unspoken threat.
With a grunt, Tenko turned around, heading to the security gates that led into their complex. “Now come on, let’s get back. Himiko’s probably tired from all that carrying.”
“I’m not,” Himiko whined, but the way she was struggling to lift her two plastic bags of snacks in comparison to Tenko easily carrying four bags filled with heavy groceries said otherwise.
PRIVATE CONVERSATION: Kokichi Ouma, Shuichi Saihara
10th October, 20XX
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[11:32am]
Shuichi: What time are you planning to come over?
Kokichi: wow, not even a hello? how rude
Kokichi: my beloved shuichi is so cruel
Shuichi: Hello, Kokichi.
Kokichi: you type like an old fart
Kokichi: if i didnt know you at all id think you were like 60 probably
Shuichi: Ha. Not like I’ve heard that one before.
Kokichi: whyd ya ask tho? cant wait to see my beautiful face?
Shuichi: No, no, it’s just that Tenko said she’d probably fight you if you came without Miu and Kaede?
Kokichi: wow rude
Kokichi: but youd save me, right shuichi?
Shuichi: Consider this a warning of your fate if you don’t come with those two.
Kokichi: :(
Kokichi: did yall get my purple ketchup
Shuichi: That doesn’t exist.
Kokichi: yes it does
Shuichi: I got ketchup and purple food colouring.
Kokichi: YES
Shuichi: Why do you need purple ketchup anyways?
Kokichi: 1. purple is a sexy colour
Kokichi: 2. ketchup ramen
Shuichi: Ketchup ramen?
Kokichi: you havent had ketchup ramen?
Shuichi: No?
Kokichi: omw
Shuichi: Kokichi?
Shuichi: Kokichi??
Shuichi: Hello?
The sound of footsteps thumping against the floor dragged Shuichi out of his thoughts, causing him to lift his head away from his phone. He watched as Tenko stepped into the kitchen, an empty plastic bag in her hands.
“Hey, Shuichi,” she greeted, to which he raised his hand to give her a wave. Crossing past the kitchen counter, Tenko stuffed the empty bag into a sack that was half-filled with other similar plastic packaging, used to bag up their garbage in the smaller trash cans scattered around the rest of the apartment.
Giving his phone a quick glance, where his messages to a certain purple-haired boy were left on received, Shuichi looked over at Tenko. “Hey Tenko?” he called out, causing her to look up and over at him. He bit the insides of his cheeks before he continued, saying, “Thank you again. For today, I mean.”
“It’s nothing,” Tenko replied. With a roll of her eyes, she glared at him, though the glint in her eyes told him that she wasn’t being serious, a distinction he had learnt to make over time. “But we really should’ve used my strategies. Then we’d have avoided that entire mess!”
“Yeah, you have a point there,” Shuichi sighed, playing along. He could spot the way Tenko’s body relaxed, her arms loosening as the ghost of a genuine smile danced across her face — a relaxed attitude that Shuichi had become privy to, having lived with her and Himiko for some time. Turning off his phone, Shuichi pressed a hand against his cheek. “But… really though. Thank you.”
“Shuichi?”
He hesitated. “Yes?”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Tenko stated, her voice even, expression calm. Walking over to him, she leaned against the kitchen island, meeting his eyes. “You’re— You’re really not that bad. Certainly better than some of the degenerate males I know. But like, even with that aside…” Tenko’s eyes narrowed and she bristled, her grip on the marble countertop tightening, knuckles turning white. “Doesn’t matter who it is, if I catch those fans bothering any of you guys—” She pulled a disgusted face, tongue sticking out. “Eugh. Even the girls, they’re all just… blegh.”
“They suck,” Shuichi said.
“They suck,” Tenko repeated, face falling ever so slightly. She paused, and then she continued. “And I’d do it again. For Himiko, and for you too.” Reaching out, she patted him on the shoulder, more of a vaguely painful slap than a comforting gesture, causing him to wince in pain. “We’re housemates now, and Himiko likes you.”
Rubbing his shoulder, Shuichi grinned slightly. “You do too—”
“Don’t push it, mister,” Tenko warned, wagging her finger at him, but there was a playfulness in her voice as she merely bantered with him, instead of throttling him like she would have done to someone like Kokichi or Rantaro. “Now, come on. We gotta set up before—” She retched. “—Kokichi arrives.”
Shuichi faltered, one hand reaching to fidget with his phone. “Ah… about that.”
The way that Tenko’s face paled comically when Shuichi told her that Kokichi was probably sprinting over to their apartment at that very moment made it almost worth endangering the other boy’s life for. Almost.