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Mutou Yuugi wasn't himself lately. Everyone knew that, knew that for some reason his temper had gotten shorter, and his idealistic pacifistic personality flew out the window if you pissed him off. Unfortunately, nobody told Haga Sato that before he decided to try his luck picking on the one kid smaller and weirder than him in the entire school. Honestly, he should've expected this.
“Ya know, I think red looks good on you! Much better than that ugly green you insist on wearing all the time. Now you look like Christmas!” Haga glared up at Mutou, wiping blood away from his split lip.
“The fuck is your problem?!” he snapped, masking his fear and pain with anger and annoyance. He straightened up to his full height, feeling like the nine centimeter advantage he had over Mutou had somehow shrunk between this morning and now. Mutou grinned at him, eyes wild and crazed.
“My problem? I could ask you the same thing, Haga-kun! After all, you're the one who attacked me first!” He giggled, the sound sounding more like the rattling of old bones than an actual laugh. Haga scowled, clenching his fist and taking a swing at Mutou. Mutou sidestepped it, grin morphing into a disgusted scowl. “You're really starting to piss me off,” he muttered, voice now flat and toneless. Haga couldn't help but feel like he made a terrible mistake.
“W-What?” he gasped, eyes wide behind his glasses as he scrambled back, gaze locked on the glowing third eye that appeared on Mutou’s forehead. His eyes had turned glassy, amethyst covered by a dull golden haze. Mutou turned that dead gaze onto Haga, lips twisting into what could've been a smile, if there had been any emotion behind it.
“Penalty Game...” Mutou hissed, pointing a finger at Haga. He couldn't help but focus not on the eye, but the chipped black polish decorating Mutou's hands. Mutou tilted his head, smile twisting further as the eye flared brighter.
‘He looks like a doll...’ Haga thought hysterically, the last thought to run through his mind before his vision went dark. He collapsed to his knees, trembling as he heard the scuttling of thousands of tiny legs coming from the darkness. Mutou walked towards him, the loud thumping of his leather boots sharply contrasting the noise of insects.
“I'd say we should do this again next week, but I think you'll be dead then. Don't bother rescheduling.” And the boots faded away, leaving Haga alone with the bugs.