Chapter Text
Teruhashi is missing.
From her seat, that is, though Kusuo’s classmates are convinced that the more ominous interpretation is true.
What Teruhashi’s admirers fail to realise is that she, like any other person, has sick days too. It should be common sense, frankly, but he doesn’t expect the idiots tripping over their own heels to have any of that. Hopefully she’ll be back tomorrow so the existential dread in the air clears and everyone will stop overreacting.
The classroom is dead silent without her – not that he can’t hear everyone’s frantic concerns over her absence, but the lack of her own vain thoughts is stark. By now, he’d have heard her come up with 21 different opportunities to make him gasp and he’d have come up with 21 different ways to thwart them. After all, he’d gotten used to her presence in his life, as irritating as it can be.
So used to it, in fact, that he can tell you her exact routine from the moment she opens the door.
When Teruhashi enters the room, sunlight will trail behind her. And when she smiles, it shines brighter. She’ll wish a good morning to whoever is by the door, and everyone that wishes her as she makes her way between the desks. And she’ll always, always, wish him a good morning before any of his friends.
She says his surname so sweet, he’s considered changing it so he’ll never have to hear it in her voice. Then again, the only way he’d be able to do that is through marriage.
“Kusuo!”
The classroom door thuds open, Aiura gasping for air, palm pressed to her heart.
“What did I say about talking to me in public?” he replies, holding back a sigh. At least Teruhashi isn’t around to hear it, lest she shows up to school in a blonde wig again. “And quit calling me that.”
Her green eyes dart around the room, scanning every face staring at her in bewilderment. Whatever, just get out here already!
What ever happened to the magic word?
He follows her up the staircase to the roof. Aiura’s thoughts are so scrambled he doesn’t even attempt to decipher them. She turns on her heel towards him. “Where’s Terukoko?”
“You, too?” he asks. “She’s at home.”
“Well duh.” She groans, brows knitted. “I saw that part. Can you check on her?”
“It’s just a fever. You people think she’s some untouchable angel or something.”
He crosses his eyes anyway. Teruhashi is tucked into her pink duvet, a hand towel laid across her forehead. The hair framing her face sticks to her skin from both sweat and the wet towel. Her room is quiet, no overbearing brother glued by her bedside without a clue on how to care for the ill. She looks fine.
Aiura doesn’t relax at that. “Are you sure? Nothing looks weird to you?”
“It’s just a fever. What is it?”
“I was asking my crystal ball about her and I saw something,” she answers.
“Stop being vague.”
“A death mark, Saiki!” Aiura finally exclaims. “Terukoko, she’s…”
Going to die.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Toritsuka scoffs.
“I could ask the same to you, Perv,” Aiura shoots back. “You’re just here because this’ll be your first time in a girl’s house.”
“And you’re just here because you don’t want Saiki and Teruhashi alone together!”
“Will you two quit it?” Kusuo sighs. He regrets calling them already, and they haven’t even rang the doorbell yet. After school he’d summoned both of them so they could investigate Aiura’s vision — and for all that it’s worth, he doesn’t want to be alone with Teruhashi either.
Up until this point, the universe had given Teruhashi Kokomi everything she wanted. Whenever she referred to herself as God’s favourite, Kusuo could only begrudgingly agree. So how could He do something so…
He presses the doorbell, hoping that’ll cut his thoughts short.
Someone’s… here? Hazy thoughts in Teruhashi’s voice stagger closer to the door before it’s nudged open. Teruhashi stands before him in a matching pink pyjama set, hand still shaking against the doorknob. Her natural glow is dim, but still shining evidence of her life. It’s oddly comforting, knowing why they’re here. Her eyes narrow at him. Saiki…? And…
She collapses against him.
Reluctantly, Kusuo carries her into the house, navigating the halls as though he lives here. She’s unusually cold in his hands, despite having a fever.
“Is that really necessary?” Toritsuka asks from behind him.
“What, and let you carry her?” Kusuo may not like her, but he’s not stupid enough to let that happen. Aiura paces ahead to open Teruhashi’s bedroom door, but his telekinesis is faster. He glances at Toritsuka. “You’re staying out here.”
Gently, he lays her on the bed. “So? It’s still there?”
Aiura nods quickly. “It’s worse than before.”
A cute dog-print mug sits on her nightstand, familiar. It almost makes him chuckle when he picks it up. She must really like it. The tea has gone cold and dark, the teabag settled at the bottom for far too long. Her brother doesn’t even know how to make tea?
He reaches for the hand towel that fell when she got up to open the front door, cooling it with his abilities and placing it on her forehead.
“It’s just a fever, isn’t it? How could she die from a fever?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t the fever,” she answers. “But her luck has always been good, like, this is out of nowhere.”
That’s what confuses him the most. How could God let this happen?
Death is not a foreign concept to Kusuo by any means. He’s seen the end of the world several times at this point — he’s even seen the aftermath of his own. A barren wasteland, skyscrapers toppled or sunk into the crimson ground, and yet he simply can’t imagine a world where Teruhashi Kokomi is not present. One day without her at school had her fans desperate for her return. What would it be like if that return never came?
“Why am I even here if you’re just gonna bench me the whole time?” Toritsuka shouts from the threshold between her room and the rest of the house.
“Be quiet, you’ll wake her up.”
“Wouldn’t it be more relieving for her to be awake?” Toritsuka asks, then turns in Aiura’s direction. “Are you sure it’s a death mark and not something else? There’s no way the universe would do that to Teruhashi.”
“I thought that too, but I’m a thousand percent sure. It was light before, but it got darker,” she replies, leaning over her.
“Are there ghosts in the house?”
Toritsuka peers into the room, not daring to breach the non-existent barrier Kusuo put up. Then he whirls around, surveys the area, and shakes his head. “None near here, anyway. Why?”
“Obviously he thinks she’s being haunted or something. Can you be any more stupid?!”
“Can you get any loude—“
Fabric rustles beneath Teruhashi as she shifts in her bed. Her eyes flutter open. “Saiki? Is that you?”
He steps back as Aiura rushes to help her sit up. “Terukoko! Are you okay? How’s your fever?”
“Aiura? You’re here too?” she calls out. Why is… “Is that—“
Toritsuka winks and salutes her from the hallway.
“Don’t worry, we didn’t let that perv inside,” Aiura says. “You feeling any better?”
“Did my brother let you guys in?”
Aiura shakes her head. “No, you did. You came to the door and passed out, so Sai—“
“Don’t,” he projects into Aiura’s mind.
“Err, Saiki told me to help you into bed,” Aiura finishes.
I opened the door? Wait, I’m… Teruhashi looks down at herself and blinks. Her hands fly to her hair, aggressively combing it down to tame bedhead she doesn’t have. Does she really care about that even now? Saiki saw me in my pyjamas! And I passed out?! So embarrassing!
Kusuo picks up the mug on her nightstand, pushing it towards her. “Your brother made this.”
Jittery, pale hands reach out for the mug, shock flashing over her face. It’s warm…? “Thanks, you two. You didn’t have to check on me.”
They really did, otherwise the world might end.
“I’m here too!” Toritsuka exclaims from behind the doorframe.
“You too.” She smiles softly. Even with pale lips, she doesn’t forget fanservice. It’s as irritating as it is impressive. Teruhashi takes a small sip of tea, face scrunching at its bitterness, but the expression flickers by. She must not want to look picky in front of them.
Something groans, loud and angry. Toritsuka’s frantic voice rings in his head. Saiki, what is that? A revenge-hungry ghost!? The devil?!
“You must be hungry.” Kusuo lets out an exhale, amused. Her cheeks, if not for the fever, might’ve flushed red.
Oh my god, I think I might die.
In any other situation, he might find that irony funny. Right now, the prospect of that happening is so unpleasant he can’t even enjoy the humour.
Teruhashi laughs weakly. “Sorry… I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
“Nothing to be sorry about!” Aiura says. It’s strange seeing her so serious, especially about someone who’s meant to be her rival. Though Kusuo sees Teruhashi as his formidable opponent too, and he can’t help but worry.
If that really happens… if she really disappears, then…
Toritsuka calls out, “Saiki, you listening? Let’s go get her some porridge or whatever sick people eat.”
Right. Leave the girl with her, that makes sense.
He closes the door behind him as he steps out to meet Toritsuka, tapping away at his phone. “There’s a good restaurant nearby, we could get some takeaway.”
“No. We have no way of knowing if the food was tampered with.”
“Gee, you’re taking this seriously…” Toritsuka mutters. “Alright. Then what?”
“You’re not a bad cook!” Toritsuka grins, sitting at the kitchen island. He’s sure making himself comfortable, but Kusuo supposes he is too, using his X-ray vision to scan cabinets for ingredients and utensils.
“And you’re as useless as I expected,” Kusuo deadpans. “You could at least clean up.”
“You told me not to touch anything! I’m just following orders,” he answers. With Kusuo’s sharp glare, Toritsuka’s clever tongue retreats as he jumps off the barstool and leaps for the sink. “Yep, got it, cleaning up.”
Kusuo scoops some porridge into a bowl. His mother taught him how to make it the last time Teruhashi fell sick, saying if they were to “get married” he’d have to “learn how to take care of her”. He followed her instructions, not because of the possibility of him caring for Teruhashi as her husband but because he didn’t plan on losing his life. It came in handy after all, but he didn’t expect to be doing it so soon.
“You must be really worried, huh?” Toritsuka says through the sound of running water. “I’ve never seen you so, uh… y’know.”
“Anyone would be,” he answers simply.
“Well yeah. Losing Teruhashi would be losing a national treasure!” Toritsuka exclaims, then winces at Kusuo’s glare once more. “Yep, shutting up now.”
To an extent, he cares about her. He can admit that now, after how long they’ve known each other, though that doesn’t make it any easier. He knows that’s what the sinking feeling in his chest is — that the idea of losing her is not something he finds particularly enjoyable.
When their classmates had been coming up with borderline fantastical theories on her absence, he wasn’t moved whatsoever. God wouldn’t do that to her, he was confident in that. But apparently, God would. Either that, or he’s forsaken this world and is leaving it to Kusuo to piece together what’s left.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time God plays with him. He supposes he’ll just have to play God back.