Work Text:
Kazuichi stared at the time displayed on the digital clock. 3:42 AM. The red blocks that formed the letters almost seemed to taunt him. Propping himself up onto his elbows, he stared down at the foot of his messy bed for what felt like forever. Finally sitting up, he moved to the edge of his bed. He placed his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his dry eyes. He let out a quiet sigh of frustration.
The night was not being nice to him. The events of that day had been looping in his mind like a broken record. The weight of their situation had fully hit him, and his mind was carrying the burden of this weight. Three of his friends, gone in the blink of an eye. His mind wandered to Mikan in her final moments.. What did she mean? Why did she do it..? What could have prevented it..?
He shook his head as though trying to physically shove the thoughts out of his head and with a low grunt, pushed off of his knees and stood up, rubbing his eyes once more while adjusting to the darkness. He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to clear his vision, and with slow, heavy steps, he made his way to the bathroom. The door creaked open and he found himself standing in front of the mirror, hands wrapped around the edge of the white porcelain. So pure and perfect the material was, always shining, yet so easy to break..
His focus shifted to himself. He stared into the mirror and someone he almost didn’t recognize stared back. He eyed himself up and down slowly, pupils dragging along the imperfect mess he saw. Bright pink hair, narrow eyes, pointy teeth.. Further, his collarbones and the muscles on his shoulders. He looked down, noticing the grip his rough and calloused hands had on the rounded surface. He slowly lifted his head, making eye contact with himself once again. He stared, and with eyes fully adjusted to the lack of light, he saw something beneath his skin that nobody else could.
“Weak..” he muttered to himself.
“I’m.. weak.”
He thought back to everything that had transpired so far. Byakuya’s death, the incident with Peko and Mahiru, and now Ibuki and Hiyoko. While his friends were working together to solve the mysteries behind everything, all he could do was sit and watch. He couldn’t solve a murder case like Hinata, nor could he uplift his friends like Nanami.
He tried to help, really he did. It was just..
“Not good enough.” He said, the frustration with himself evident in his broken voice. His vision began to blur as tears of despair wallowed in his eyes. His head dropped and he inhaled sharply as the tears began to drop down his cheeks. His grip on the sink tightened, as if trying to ground himself, but it was no use. His thoughts continued to spiral and gnaw at him.
Kazuichi carried himself with confidence, his outgoing and social personality arguably his best quality. But it was all a lie. He wasn’t confident, quite the opposite. Everything he saw, both on the surface and beneath, made him sick to his stomach. He could try and lie, fake the personality of someone who didn’t give a fuck, but at the end of the day, this is who he was.
He stumbled slowly away from the sink, his back hitting the wall as he slid down onto the floor. He hugged his knees, head buried. “Weak, weak, weak,,” He repeated to himself, his quiet yet heavy sobs the only sound to be heard.
Kazuichi wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, but he knew that he needed to sleep. He wiped his eyes and slowly lifted himself to his feet. He caught a glimpse of his red, wet eyes in the mirror before quickly looking away in shame.
Light steps brought him back to the edge of his bed. He fell down onto it, head landing on the pillow with a small noise. He turned his head to his right. The clock now read 4:27 AM. Shit.. He thought to himself before moving his head to stare back up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath.
Nobody knew how he felt inside, and nobody would know what had happened that night. When the morning came, he would wake up and dress himself the same. He would walk to the restaurant and greet everyone with his usual cheeriness, the only difference being darker circles under his eyes. And as he slowly drifted to sleep, nobody would know how broken the seemingly polished porcelain that made him up was.