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Strange thing number one about Koritora:
Odd humanoid traits.
Koritora likes clothes. Koritora likes hair.
You’d never catch him wearing a hawaiian T-shirt, but Otsukin has. He goes to the mall at strange times, when he knows no other Ikenuma will be there, donning a graphic T-shirt and swimming trunks.
He goes to a barber shop, as usual. Which is strange, because Ikenuma aren’t known for having hair. It’s one of the lesser-known fact about Ikenuma.
It’s not even hair, it’s fur. A thin, soft, barely visible layer of fur which only appears underwater. So he has no idea why Koritora sits down and gets himself shaved there by the same barber, who giggles with him and talk about anime, or whatever.
He’d walked in on him once, earlier that week.
Koritora only flushed quietly and turned the other direction. Otsukin smiled weakly and waved stiffly. The barber laughed at Koritora and beamed back at Otsukin proudly.
“You!” She said. “Koritora talks about you. You’re Otsukin?”
Otsukin glances around, kicking his feet nervously. “.. That’s me.”
She snickers. “I hear all day about your.. Ikenuma hair, is it? Koritora won’t stop complaining.”
Koritora stiffens, and buries his face in his hands. Otsukin laughs quietly, skipping his feet and walking away with a grin.
It was then he noticed that Koritora bought an electric razor meant for beards. And shampoo. The sort branded with little video game characters and cute accessories.
How strange.
Strange thing number two about Koritora:
Plush toys.
Koritora likes plush toys. Not the ones Otsukin get, the obscure ones off Ebay for a discontinued anime or manga, but the soft, round ones you’d find anywhere.
His bed’s full of them. That also means that they leak into Otsukins as well.
“Please watch him,” says Koritora, handing him a small penguin dressed in red robes and a crown. “I think he might enjoy your bed a little more than mine.”
Otsukin scrunches his face, squeezing it tightly. “I don’t think he can like a bed.”
Koritora seemed to stiffen. “... Well, ah.. Well, he falls off. So, you know, I thought you might like to have him.”
So now, Otsukins bed is full of little pokemon he enjoys.
Not that he doesn’t mind, he enjoys the attention from Koritora. He also enjoys jumping into the bed and having them all tumble around him.
Sometimes, limited-edition-Lor-Starcutter will fall to the ground, or 60,000-GELA-worth-giant-Timcanpy will get dirt on his wings, so they’re always stuffed up against the wall. While it looks nice, it’s a little disheartening to see them and never touch them.
So it’s comforting to squeeze 20-GELA worth Ditto and not worry about Eclair’s bong water spilling on it.
But it’s strange.
Strange thing number three about Koritora:
Dinners
Koritora likes dinner. Not lunch, not breakfast, but dinner.
Koritora’s always excited when it’s dinner. Specifically on Fridays, after work.
“I’ve planned this one out, see?” says Koritora, who points at his map. “I have a reservation here.”
“Ah!” Otsukin leans in, as always, feet swinging beneath him. “I’ve heard about this one! Isn’t it expensive, though?”
Koritora rubs the back of his head. “.. the past few restaurants have been Maidon Lunch, which isn’t particularly expensive. It’d be nice to treat us, right?”
Otsukin smiles. “It would.”
The past few trips on Friday nights after work have been to Maidon Lunch. Even then, they traveled to Gapinz, Sohonyama, Naname..
Each of them have their own different taste to the food. Gapinz is sweet, Fwansanova’s is salty, and Mustabe is a little taste of fish every time they eat.
“I didn’t really mind the Maidon expedition,” says Otsukin. “It was really fun! We missed one, though..”
“We did,” Koritora says. His shoulders tense. “Well, um, I’ll save that for later. Prepare for tomorrow, okay? It’s a nice place, so try not to bring anything.. Dangerous.”
“Security will be there..” Otsukin glances up into the sky. “I think this is an opportunity, don’t you think? To try your.. Airport-safe bag?”
“N-no!” Koritora waves his hands, stuffing the map back in his pocket. “No! Not at all! I don’t want to get kicked out!”
Otsukin laughs. “I see. Well, there will be a 75% chance that no poisonings will happen, assuming that Taiyo doesn’t show up.”
Koritora only groans.
Strange thing number four about Koritora:
Taiyo
It’d been a little obvious from even the moment they first locked “eyes”, that Koritora did not like Taiyo. And that Taiyo did not particularly like Koritora, either.
Which is funny, because Taiyo’s been showing up at every restaurant lately. He’s in the corner, usually, looking at them with tense shoulders. Otsukin waves politely, and asks him to leave. Koritora takes him aside and slugs him in the shoulder.
Taiyo usually leaves after that, but it’s a little strange.
Koritora usually comes back flustered. Tense and stiff, crystal gleaming and face shadowed with anger.
And Taiyo usually laughs. Which is weird, because he hasn’t heard Taiyo laugh at anything other than violent movies.
Sometimes Zakuro shows up as well, right after Taiyo leaves. Then Otsukin gets mad, because he doesn’t like Zakuro showing up within a eleven mile radius of him.
“Soo,” She leans forward, fluttering her eyelashes. “You and Koritora–?”
“We’re out,” Otsukin says. “What does that have to do with you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” She says, leaning back and looking to the side, dancing around the question. “I was just wondering if you guys have done anything yet..”
Otsukin hesitates. “... what?”
She only laughs and makes a crude hand gesture, to which she’s promptly kicked out of the restaurant for, courtesy of Otsukin.
Strange thing number five about Koritora:
Ominous texting
Koritora’d sent him an ominous message earlier.
Icetgr: Please meet me at Fwansanova’s fountain at nine-thirty PM today.
Otsutsu: Huh?
Koritora, where’d this come from?!
KORITORA WHAT DO YOU HAVE PLANNED?
Should I be scared?!?!
Icetgr: I’ve ensured that neither Taiyo nor Zakuro will show up.
Otsutsu: I’m a little nervous.
What do you mean by this?!
KORITORA YOU CAN’T GO OFFLINE RIGHT AFTER SAYING THAT!
KORITORA!!!
Koritora had kindly left him on ‘delivered’ for the rest of the day.
So, here he is. Armed with an incomplete list of five of many traits of Koritora, one of which didn’t even count. Laying down in his bed, squirming, rereading those texts.
Has he been kidnapped? Is this a ransom? Is this Koritora? Is it Taiyo?
Well, really, no matter what it is, it’s enticing. A fight offer? A kidnapping? A challenge?
He looks at the clock. It’s eight-twenty. Twenty minutes after eight.
He glances down at his phone. 70 minutes remain until the apocalypse.
.. Or whatever else Koritora has planned.
And then there’s Otsukin now. Dressed in a stiff, heavy black Jacket he and Koritora bought as a joke for 3,000 GELA, only to find it for half the price somewhere else.
He’s got whatever potion he could find in his pockets. Unlabeled bottles, bubbling green poisons, medication that reeks of dirt, Eclair’s experiments..
He’s ready, right?
Otsukin looks at his phone. Then back to the mirror.
He’s ready for anything.
… Right?
***
Strange thing number three-thousand-and-two about Otsukin:
Oblivion.
Alright, thinks Otsukin. I’ve got it.
It’s nine fifteen now. A full hour has passed without any news of recent kidnapping, or cloning events, or whatnot. Which was strange.
The news was awfully quiet. No recent riots, no recent protests, just utter silence.
Which was strange!
Because isn’t there supposed to be some huge conflict going on right now?! Thinks Otsukin. Koritora must be involved somehow. Why else would this happen?
He’d planned out his thoughts into an internet friendly numbered list.
- Koritora is working with the government and is mad at him for pirating Clip Studio Paint.
- Koritora is kidnapped and blackmailed by the government, who is mad at him for pirating Clip Studio Paint.
- Taiyo wrote this message and kidnapped Koritora and is going to get mad at him for pirating Clip Studio Paint.
- This is an ambush of some sort
- Koritora has been replaced by some weird cyborg robot, who shaves and is mad at him for pirating Clip Studio Paint.
The fourth one, he thinks, is most logical. But they all do make sense. Especially that Koritora is a weird cyborg robot. Because there’s no possible way that Koritora can be a real person.
Normally, he’d scoff at such a ludicrous claim, but he thinks back to Kirimi, and that seems to explain everything.
Maybe Koritora was cloned, hums Otsukin to himself. That would make sense, because he’s been stiff and weird lately. Another weird thing to add to the list, right?
And then he’s at Fwansanova.
It’s Nine-twenty-five, and Koritora has not showed up.
He did, however, read Otsukin’s messages. How sweet!
He’s active right now. He’s talking to someone, but he has no idea who.
Otsukin grips the unnamed red bottle in his hands. As cool as a clone-robot-cyborg would be, he’s not a particularly good fighter against clones, robots, or cyborgs. All three at once would not be pretty.
It’s nine twenty-nine.
Koritora has not shown up yet.
Otsukin slumps down next to the fountain. Spinning the bottle in his hands, watching the liquid slosh around and bubble.
He has to admit, he’s a little bored.
Maybe Koritora ended up being injured from fighting against government agents.
Otsukin giggles to himself, but then remembers that government agents are, indeed, a very serious issue. He hopes that said agents haven’t found Koritora’s personal pirated license of Unity, otherwise poor Koritora wouldn’t be able to defend himself.
And then it’s nine thirty-one.
Otsukin bites his lip.
Because Koritora’s always on time. Because Koritora’s always set straight and planned everything out. Because Koritora’s the most perfect man he’s ever met, and there couldn’t possibly be a mistake in that message.
Nine thirty PM. He’s at Fwansanova. He’s at the fountain. He’d made his round scouring school grounds. He’s there .
So where’s Koritora?
Smoke wafts from the corner of a building, seeping up and billowing up into the clouds, filling the air with a horrible stench of burning plastic.
Koritora! Otsukin jumps. He’s not sure if he’s suddenly sweating from excitement or impending doom.
There’s sparks of electricity, pieces of burning metal flying off of the building. High-pitched whirring and gears whining— oh, it’s that cyborg. It’s Koritora’s clone! Who else could it possibly be?!
Otsukin fumbles in his pockets and flicks off the cork for the unnamed red bottle. Either a poison or a buff, who knew? But he’s had enough poison in the past to at least be resistant for an hour—!
He rushes in, through the back door he’d always used to break into in dire situations, usually being late, but sometimes chemical reactions. A nearby trophy tumbled down from the closet, smashing onto Fullman’s desk, spilling some cold liquid on him.
Oops, says Otsukin, but there’s no time to waste.
Despite the school being pitch black, he’s memorized the layout like the back of his hands. Hands sweaty, shoulders trembling, rushing up the stairs and fumbling through doors, and finally bursting out onto the rooftop.
Cold air brushed against his burning cheeks. There’s nothing but a cloud of smoke, curling around the walls and poles.
Otsukin flicks out a remote, uncapping a safety pin on his bottles, ready to strike and ambush whoever dare take Koritora—!
…
Wait a minute.
Otsukin blinks.
And, right there in front of him, is Koritora himself. Covered with soot and broken wires and melted chocolates and petals, clutching a broken robot in his trembling hands.
The potion spills from Otsukin’s hands, clattering to the ground and seeping towards Koritora, who only stands stiff, brushing various metal plates and screws off of his now tainted sweater.
“… Well,” Koritora chokes out. “It appears I’ve made a miscalculation.”
Otsukin can’t help but chuckle. He wipes his hands on his legs, flicking off whatever had spilled on him earlier.
“You’re covered in ink, you know,” says Koritora.
“You’re covered in the remains of your desecrated robot,” says Otsukin, who only grins and looks down towards the school courtyard. “What could you possibly need コロコロ here for, anyway?”
Koritora glances down at the melted chocolates, still glued to the mechanical hands which now dangled lifelessly near the balcony.
“… Nothing particularly important,” Koritora mutters. “But, hm. Here,”
Koritora tosses him a singed, barely solid bar of chocolate. The wrapper sizzles lifelessly on the bubbling pieces of now burnt chocolate.
“… Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ink-stained fingertips, now covered with sticky chocolates mixed with singed cardboard.
Otsukin pops a finger in his mouth. Raspberry!
“You remembered!” Otsukin grins, ignoring the bitter taste of ink seeping from his lips. “That-that raspberry..”
“Y-yes, but..” Koritora wipes the ink dribbling down Otsukin’s cheeks. “That’s not my concern right now! And-and what is this thing you were—?!”
Otsukin squints, kicking at the empty red bottle near his feet. “You know, I don’t really know.”
“And you—?!”
“I know! Don’t worry, it’s probably not Eclairs! She doesn’t dye hers, and—“
“But you still—!”
“And, you know, those poison resistance tests have really been coming in handy!”
“POISON?!? ”
Otsukin blinks. He hadn’t really processed what poison was to the average mind. What poison was intended to do, other than be a slang for whatever goop Kashikin developed in their free time.
Koritora sighs, loudly . “Well.. whatever. I will not be paying for your hospital bills this time.”
“Hospital? Who needs a hospital when I can—“
“I will be taking you to a hospital,” Koritora snaps. “Immediately.”
Otsukin giggles. Koritora can’t help but follow along.
“So, just making sure,” Otsukin slaps his hand on Koritora’s shoulder, staining it with chocolate. “You’re Koritora. And not like a government-agent-slash-cyborg-clone?”
”… What?”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“And what if I am?” Koritora muses, leaning into Otsukin. “What do you plan to do then?”
“Dissect you.”
“Hm,” Koritora smiles. “But you’ll have to defeat me first.”
“Yeah, you and your seven evil hyperfixations,” Otsukin grins. “I got this.”
”Sure you do,” Koritora leans closer. As they do when watching those stupid movies of theirs, when the blankets keep the warm and the smell of hot chocolate wafts through the room. “You’re already red. Could it be poison damage? I’m already winning.”
“I—“
Otsukin chokes on his own saliva. Shit. Shit. Oh, was it always this hot outside?
Oh my god.
Koritora’ s said all this dumb shit before, why now—?
Why now does he—?!
Otsukin shoves him away with stiff shoulders and slick sugar-stained fingers, gazing down at the ground.
“Hm?” Koritora seems to grin, following behind him. “What’s wrong, Otsukin?”
“I—…”
His gaze softens. His shoulders slump, hands grasping Otsukin’s loosely.
“I apologize,” he says quietly. “Was that too much?”
Never.
“Oh.. you’re shaking! I-I’ll get you to O-Saar as quickly as possible, I—“
He can’t even hear Koritora over the sound of his heart racing, his blood roaring in his ears. Hands twitching in Koritora’s.
“So, um, here’s some disinfectant just in case, and—“
“I LOVE YOU, KORITORA!!!”
Koritora hesitates. His voice catches in his throat. His fingers twitch.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. I’ve really done it now. Koritora? Possibly agent clone? No, no that didn’t matter. No, no, Koritora’s his high school friend! Koritora’s been always
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh fuck oh shit—
Koritora laughs breathlessly. His shoulders slump to his side.
“I’ve never been good with words,” he mutters, grasping Otsukin’s waist and pulling him close. “Good thing you are.”
”Ko-kori—?!”
He leans closer.
Oh my god,
Oh my god.
Not only had it worked (which was a one in a million chance, anyway!) but it worked with Koritora at the very place in which they lived and died together, and oh, he’s so warm.
Otsukin loves it.
He’d always imagine what his first kiss would look like. Probably with a cute girl who had him against the wall. Probably in a party or restaurant he knew he couldn’t get into.
It’s impossible, he’d say. No girls would ever like me.
Maybe not girls, he’d say now to himself. Maybe Koritora.
Koritora didn’t make much of an effort to move into Otsukin, but boy was it enough. His lips are slippery and taste of salt and faintly of metal. His hands rest awkwardly at his side. But Otsukin likes it, he loves it. He loves how Koritora fits in his arms and how he smells of a cool summer breeze. He loves how Koritora hesitates yet loves so, so much. He loves everything about Koritora, he loves kissing Koritora.
It’s a little messy, but aren’t they all? Otsukin’s heart pounds in his ears. He’s dizzy. A good sort of dizzy. A content feeling. Like a satisfying ending to a cheesy movie. It’s strange how he loved Koritora, how he’d never noticed it before. How Koritora always gave him those flushed glances or how his hands inched towards his.
But it’s all part of the charm. And he supposes he loves it.
And Koritora breaks apart.
“Uh,” says Koritora.
“Um,” says Otsukin.
They share a laugh. What else would you do?
“You beat me to it, you know,” Koritora picks up a small bag at his feet, now sticky from the chocolates. “A confession.”
What—?!
“I scheduled an appointment with my barber and everything,” he mutters. “Because you complain about how your hair gets stained when you refill the mazai.”
You noticed that I—?!
“I found some plushies from that show you like,” Koritora peers into the bag again, but gazes to the side. “So we couldn’t afford dinner.”
But you still—?!
“And,” Koritora smiles. “I still snagged a reservation at Gapinz.”
Otsukin chokes back a sob.
“But, ah,” Koritora shuffles awkwardly in place. “We might be a little late.”
Otsukin wants to cry.
But he chokes it back, and reaches out to Koritora.
“I love you so much.”
Koritora smiles.
“Love you too. But we’re going to be late if we don’t leave..”
***
And the rest is history.
Taiyo’s crude jokes come in the form of slurs and hugs and gentle digs at Koritora. Zakuro’s moved on from subtly hinting at Koritora that he should have sex to bringing three of her other friends to subtly hint at Koritora that he should have sex. Sigkin told them that he thought they were already dating. Fusakin gifted them flowers and talked about Marikin.
It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Everyone was too accepting, but that’s a problem for another time.
For now, he rests at home with Koritora watching bad children’s shows and snickering at them as if they were catered towards adults. They’re surrounded with blankets and toys and love and warmth.
And it’s perfect, at least until someone comes to ask them to solve a math question or to give relationship advice.
But that’s a problem for another day.
He has Koritora, and he supposes that’s all that matters.
Otsukin pulls out his phone, and taps in a quick note.
Strange thing number six about Koritora:
He loves me
And he loves Koritora too.