Work Text:
“Iruma, I want to have a tea party!”
Miu’s brows furrow as she looks up from the blueprint she’s been leaning over. Her bones are filled with the familiar exhausted ache of an all-nighter. She finds she can’t recall what she’d even been working on. Not that it mattered, so long as she was productive it was fine.
“Iruma?” Right, Ouma’s here. It must be morning then. She looks up to find him staring at her, head tilted and face blank in that (cute) annoying way he does when he’s thinking about something. When he notices her looking he grins, hands coming to rest behind his head. “Did you hear me or were you too busy planning out your next sex machine?”
Sputtering, Iruma huffs. “I fucking heard you, damn!” She isn’t lying exactly, she had heard him, she just… didn’t remember what he’d said. He’d caught her in the middle of something, it wasn’t her fault! “I- you- uh-“
Ouma rolls his eyes but he doesn’t make fun of her like she expects. Instead, he comes closer, one hand coming to rest on her chair’s arm. He leans forward to the point their faces are nearly touching. Instantly, Miu feels a violent flush make its way across her body. Why- why is he so close all of a sudden?
“I said I want to have a tea party.” His face is so close to her’s that she can smell his breath. It’s sweet, which she could have guessed, but it’s the intensity of it that surprises her. It’s like she’d shoved a grape candle right under her fucking nose.
She’s so shocked that she doesn’t notice the ticket he’s holding until he’s waving it right in her face. A date ticket? She shouldn’t be surprised. They’ve been using date tickets on each other since this ‘dating show’ started. She’d asked him first on a whim, nervous she’d get stuck without anyone and get trapped in this stupid cage. She’d wanted to ask Kiibo or Akamatsu, but then they’d started hanging out with Saihara and Chabashira. Ouma had seemed like the best alternative; at least he could keep up with her.
A few days into this though and Miu was forced to admit that she almost… liked hanging out with the brat. He was annoying and confusing and he kept demanding her to make things. But he was also a genius and his dumb little drawings on the blueprints were… sort of endearing.
She’d started looking forward to him asking her out, as crazy as that was. She felt like a crazed schoolgirl with a playground crush. Sitting in her lab waiting to get her pigtails pulled. The worst part was that anticipation had only served to make her anxious. Every day she found herself wondering if he’d get bored and decide to go and bother someone else. If he’d run out of ideas for inventions and walk away once she’d lost her use.
But no, he hadn’t lost interest, not yet anyway. Snatching the ticket from him, she waits until he’s backed out of her space. Then she turns and quickly shoves it into the drawer where all the other tickets and drawings went. She nearly smashes her finger in her rush, not wanting him to see. It was the sort of mushy shit he’d bully her relentlessly for and Miu was not about to be called a sappy bitch.
He raises an eyebrow as she turns back to him but Miu catches a twitch of a smile on his lips. It feels like a victory. “I’m guessing that’s a yes?”
“Wha- oh, right. Fucking-” She frowns, putting her hands on her hips as she finally processes his request. “Who the hell has a tea party in the morning? Why the fuck do you even want to have one anyway?”
She expects his usual bullshit again. Another long lie about how he requires his organization to have tea parties or some shit. Instead, his face goes unsettlingly blank. Not even his usual ‘I’m thinking super hard’ face but something Miu truly can’t read. “Miu,” he says and she squeaks, unsure whether she should be nervous or flustered at the use of her given name. “It’s noon. How long have you been working down here?”
“Well, I- I-” The truth was she didn’t know. She was sure she’d stepped out at some point yesterday but time tended to blur and get away from her. The only times that she’d stepped away since discovering her lab was to go on ‘dates’ with Ouma. “Does it fucking matter? I’m leaving now!”
He scowls and she gets the distinct impression she’s said something wrong. Quick as a blink, Kokichi is back to grinning, skipping back to the door without checking to see if she’s following. The mood swing gives her whiplash but she isn’t about to broach the topic again. Besides, food sounded good right about now. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until Ouma had pulled her out of her haze. Her stomach hurt.
“You didn’t answer my question, you know,” Miu says, uncomfortable with the silence. “Why do you want to have a tea party of all things anyway? I know it’s not because you’re all prissy and shit, so?”
“My organization requires everyone to have afternoon breaks!” Ouma says, turning around to walk backward. She sort of wants to see him run into something just to see him sputter, but it looks unlikely. He seems to have an impeccable sense of where they’re going. “It increases productivity.”
Now Miu knows that’s a lie (‘breaks’ are a waste of time no matter how you paint it) but she doesn’t bother to call him on it. She doesn’t have the energy to. The backlash of her time working is crashing down on her now. Her stomach is panging. Her muscles ache all over. Her back hurts from leaning over her desk. She can even feel a headache working its way into the base of her skull. It’s nothing she isn’t used to, this is just the repercussions of efficiency, but it still sucks. Maybe it’s good that he pulled me away when he did. She’s passed out and knocked her head on the desk before; it wasn’t pretty.
They walk into the dining hall and Miu is surprised to find there’s a small setup waiting for them. It’s nothing fancy but there are two bowls set out with spoons. There's even a small white vase with a single purple rose set inside it. Is that for me? She can hardly believe it, it just seems so… soft. The kind of mushy lovey-dovey bullshit she thought Ouma would make fun of. Part of her is tempted to poke fun at it herself but… well, it’s for her. He took time out of his day to set this up for her. Miu had never seen herself as the kind of girl who had tea parties or was given roses.
She looks to see what Ouma’s thinking but he’s already turned away, walking off without a word into the kitchen area. Unsure of what else to do Miu sits down, unable to resist the urge to reach up and thumb at the soft petals of the rose. It felt real. Where in this hellhole would he even find a flower like this? Running a thumb along the stem she hisses as her skin catches on a thorn, fuschia blood pooling at the wound. She licks it without much thought, used to getting all kinds of cuts while working on her inventions. Sitting back in her chair she sighs. Where the hell did that little brat run off to?
As if summoned Ouma walks back out of the kitchen, arms full with what looks to be a carton of something and… boba tea? “You know that most tea parties have like- actual fucking tea, right?”
“Do you want actual tea?” Ouma shoots back, setting everything down with a thud. She takes her boba which she figures answers his question.
“It’s not about that it’s about the goddamn principal. Does this even count as a tea party at this point?”
“Fine, you ungrateful whore,” he huffs, ignoring her undignified squeak, “it’s an ice cream date. Happy?”
“Ice cream..?” She looks down at the carton he’d been carrying and bursts out laughing. “Wha- wha- what the fuck is that?”
Ouma breaks into a shit-eating grin, toothy and mischievous. Despite this he still tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Huh? What do you mean? What’s so funny about rock-hard ice cream?”
She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe, face buried in her hands. It’s not even that fucking funny! She insists, trying to will herself to calm down. I can tell a sex joke a thousand times better than that! But it was so unexpected, had caught her so off-guard, that Miu really couldn’t help but lose it. At some point, she forgets what she’s even laughing at. So giddy and filled with adrenaline she continues giggling anyway.
To Ouma’s credit, he waits her out. By the time Miu gets a hold of herself her eyes are watering and her face is sore from smiling. She blinks through the tears to see that Ouma has sat down, his chin resting on his palm. He looks at her with something she’d almost dare to call fondness.
The look is gone the moment he catches her looking, replaced with something sour and unimpressed. “Wow, Iruma!” She feels a pang of disappointment and then buries it. Why the fuck would he call you Miu anyway? You’ve only known him a couple of fucking days! “I knew you had a bad sense of humor but really? You’re so easy.”
She sputters, feeling flustered and hot all over. Ouma pulls the carton open and starts to scoop ice cream into both of their bowls. She can recognize the extra reinforcement on the spoons now. How long had that taken for the inventor to get right? People had been trying to invent a never-melting ice cream for decades. Whoever made it must have gotten a ton of recognition for it.
“So,” Ouma says, pulling her out of her thoughts, “does Iruma stay glued to her desk all day often?” He says it nonchalantly, like he’s just spinning another one of his dumbass lies, but Miu can read between the lines. Nonchalant on Ouma is a normal person’s upset. She should have known better than to believe he would have dropped it.
Looking down at her ice cream and stabbing at it with her spoon she debates what to tell him. She thinks there’s a good chance that if she lied he would let her get away with it, even if he didn’t like it. But she doesn’t hate the idea of telling him her secret. He might find it impressive. Miu doesn’t think he’s the type to go around telling everyone either; even if he did no one would believe him.
“Yeah, but, it’s not a big deal or anything.” He glances at her, unimpressed. “No, I’m fucking serious! I’m augmented, someone like me doesn’t need something as dumb as sleep.”
Ouma stares and she huffs, crossing her arms. The disbelief is rich coming from him given all the insane things he’s said with no evidence. Miu is right and she knows it! “You probably won’t believe me but… back in the day, I used to be a boring, unremarkable girl with no talent at all.”
Ouma murmurs something that sounds vaguely like “I can believe it,” but she ignores him. This part is… always hard to talk about. If she doesn’t get it out all in one go she never will.
“One day, I got in an accident and ended up in a coma.” He goes quiet, listening attentively. She swallows, mouth going dry. “Yeah, it was some uh- real life-and-death type shit. After the surgery, I barely managed to regain consciousness…”
She remembers how frightening it had been, waking up and realizing she’d lost so much time. That while she’d been stuck in bed on the brink of death the world had gone on rolling by without her. As if she’d never been there in the first place.
“And ever since,” she continues, forcing back the dark thoughts and memories. She didn’t have time to sit around a get all fucking sad about things, that was the entire fucking problem! “I’ve been chock full of ideas for all kinds of inventions! And I had the brains, skills, and physical talent to make those inventions a reality! But that’s weird, isn’t it? So I’ve come to the conclusion that I am, in fact, an augmented human.”
Ouma doesn’t respond immediately. His expression is once again flat and unreadable as he pushes his ice cream around in his bowl. She leaves him be, for once unwilling to break the silence even if it is making her skin crawl.
Sometimes when she tells that story people start to look at her differently. Like they’ve suddenly realized she’s made of glass and one little push will shatter her. The implication that she’s weak, that she needs to be coddled... It was so infuriating she just stopped mentioning it altogether. Until now, anyway.
“So does Miu not sleep because she’s afraid of wasting time or because she’s afraid she won’t wake up?”
She freezes, unnerved. He’s staring right at her, dark eyes holding an intelligence beyond their years. What am I even supposed to say to that?
The topic drops again, Ouma spinning some ludicrous tale that’s so insane she has to interrupt. They start arguing, spitting insults and crude jokes back and forth. Eventually, their bowls and cups are empty and she’s forgotten about the whole thing entirely.
When Ouma invites her into his room later though. When he convinces her to lie on his bed next to him. When he quietly assures her “I’ll be here to wake you up in the morning.” Miu knows she made the right choice in telling him. He may be a fucking brat but he’s not a total fucking bastard. I think I might even like his scrawny ass.
She sleeps through the whole night.