PIPE DREAM

“O-oh no.”

(The Naught or Nice List)

tagged by: no one i stole it!

Kokichi watched fondly as Kiiboy fell for the ruse hook, line, and sinker. Yes, this should be the start of a beautiful friendship. Or at least an overflowing trove of fun and laughs for Kokichi to mine.

He blinked with surprise when Kiiboy left the room, then shrugged and took the opportunity to put his shirt back on. When his phone’s text tone went off, he took it out of his pants pocket to check - and yep, it was Kiiboy.

[text] always happy to help my best robot friend ✌

[text] oooooo, like what? 😗

Maybe this plan had worked even better than Kokichi had anticipated. Ahhh, positive reinforcement.

His best robot friend. Well, he was an amazing robot! Of course he would be his best robot friend. That made him feel a sense of pride—although, he also would like to be acknowledged as just… him. How complicated. The want to be seen as both his own entity but also an incredible robot… perhaps you just couldn’t have it both ways.

Thinking for a moment, he decided not to leave his text hanging. That seemed a bit wrong, so promptly—he replied back.

[TEXT]: I will allow you to witness my one-man comedy show.

Not even waiting for the chance to see a reply back, he went back inside the room. Quite honestly, he was trusting Ouma a bit too much now. Leaving him in his room again—well, it wasn’t as if he had a reason to suspect any wrong-doing now—but it didn’t erase the antics he had done previously or anything of the sort. Realizing that, when he arrived inside… he took a very quick glance around. Alright, everything was okay. It was wrong to suspect him, after all. How… strange.

“You helped me find my ID, and as thanks, I would like you to see my own stand-up comedy! I have practiced it a bit in my free-time. I think you may find it enjoyable.”

The end result was about what she expected. A complete and utter miss. He had never picked up a gun, after all. How could he expect to hit anywhere vital? He had just picked up this weapon. She didn’t need to ask to know that. It was in his posture. The way he held the gun. The way he looked after the shot fire. He was an amateur. It was probably best he stay that way. Guns weren’t easily accessed in Japan, unless one had proper connections. Maki was given quite the allowance, for weapon shopping.

“You’re aware of what you’re asking me correct?” she spoke. Her tone was empty, cold. The way he looked reminded her of herself. When she was still a girl. When blood didn’t stain her hands. How she clasped a gun, her hands trembling. He didn’t seem to share her terror, at least. She was a child. A child expected to shoot to kill. Plenty of officers didn’t have guns themselves. This room alone held more guns than stations would.

“I won’t just be teaching you to shoot. It’ll be teaching you to kill,” Maki continued. This wasn’t just a shooting range. This wasn’t for sport or to hunt animals. This wasn’t a hobby. She would easy be a dead shot, for any of those. She was a machine. A weapon. She was death itself, taking on human form. She was the most dangerous person, in this killing game. She considered Kiibo to be far more human than herself.

And he had a choice. He could walk away, at any time. He could come and go, as he pleased. He had the ability to choose. He could hand her that gun, walk out, and never come back. He didn’t need to know this. His life didn’t depend on how well or not he could shoot. There was no need for this. The fact he had a decision made her irrationally angry. Why would anyone want to know how to kill?

The robot… was aware what this meant. The weight of the weapon was more than just a literal sense—it was figurative, as well. When you held a gun… you could hold someone’s life in your hands as well. He knew that. And he also knew—that he would never take a human’s life. First, it was immoral. It was wrong. He was taught such a thing, as he was raised as Professor Iidabashi’s own child. And second… it was impossible. It was a rule… a rule of Robotics. A robot must never harm a human. Ever.

“Regardless of what you say, a weapon isn’t meant for only killing,” He took a look at the weapon… taking glances at it, and then the assassin. Trying to make a point. “Is it?” While one may look at something like this and assume that its only purpose was for murder, to hurt… was that really all there was to it? Kiibo wasn’t doing this for harmful purposes. No, he didn’t wish to hurt anyone—and certainly not kill.

“I do not wish to hurt anyone with this weapon... that may be hard to believe, I understand. Yet...” There was limited choices with a gun. You could shoot… or you could choose not to. You could pull the trigger or refrain. The weight was heavy. The robot was well aware, even moreso when he held it in his hands. And he knew—that Maki was angry. She had a tone in her voice—a look in her eyes. What he was doing, what he was choosing… he wouldn’t waver. He needed to know more about various things. He needed to.

Send “Treasure Chest Opened! You Acquired _____” Along with an Item My Muse would obtain by opening a secrete treasure chest, Make it ANY item you want and see My Muse’s reaction to obtaining said Item. | open

He stood still. There was… a warm feeling overtaking his otherwise cold, mechanical body—this… this was love, wasn’t it? This had to be love. The love of a human, the respect, the feeling of being wanted—it reminded him a lot of Professor Iidabashi. 

Send “Treasure Chest Opened! You Acquired _____” Along with an Item My Muse would obtain by opening a secrete treasure chest, Make it ANY item you want and see My Muse’s reaction to obtaining said Item. | open

“Gonta-kun, please put down the guns..!” 

Send “Treasure Chest Opened! You Acquired _____” Along with an Item My Muse would obtain by opening a secrete treasure chest, Make it ANY item you want and see My Muse’s reaction to obtaining said Item. | open

Reachinginto the treasure chest—he picked up the gun. This wasn’t like the other one hefired—no, it wasn’t too heavy. It wasn’t so uncomfortable to touch. It felt…light, easier to take hold of. Perhaps it wouldn’t recoil, either? Was that too much to ask for?

Send “Treasure Chest Opened! You Acquired _____” Along with an Item My Muse would obtain by opening a secrete treasure chest, Make it ANY item you want and see My Muse’s reaction to obtaining said Item. | open

Why was Ouma’s scarf in this treasure chest..? It must havebeen a spare, probably. After all, the robot couldn’t imagine Ouma taking offthe scarf he always wore in order to commit a prank so… fruitless.

Seriously, bless this robot. Kokichi hoped he could meet the famed Professor Idabashi some day, and express his appreciation for the pure, wholesome machine he’d created.

He’d even seriously bowed down. What a great day~!

“Welllllll, since you apologized so sweetly, I’ll forgive you,” Kokichi said with great magnanimity. “I know I’m not the easiest person to believe, but hopefully now you know I’m not always lying~!” 

And then, to butter Kiiboy up for his finishing move, he went on reassuringly, “You probably didn’t see it fall. If you bumped your hip against the desk, or happened to brush your sleeve against the card… or any number of other ways, it could have fallen while you weren’t looking, and then you wouldn’t remember it happening, right?”

Between drawing on each other’s faces, the playful texting, and now the (fabricated) misunderstanding that showed Kiiboy his worst assumptions about Kokichi weren’t always true… maybe the robot would actually start to like him, and want to hang out sometimes. 

Kokichi loved messing with his classmates, but he’d wanted to make friends with at least one of them, so there would be one person at Hope’s Peak who didn’t look at him with dislike, suspicion, or distrust. Mostly Kokichi enjoyed the shenanigans that ensued, but since DICE couldn’t be here, he needed at least one person to like him; constant dislike stabbing into him was a heavy emotional burden to bear.

Kokichi wasn’t sure if the robot counted as a “person,” but given the laws of robotics, Kiiboy was the easiest entity for Kokichi to relax around, so he would have to do. Plus, Kokichi adored him, so it was win-win, really.

That was true… he definitely was not the easiest person to believe. It was hard to fathom, but… he wasn’t lying about this. No, he couldn’t have been. After all, the ID was right behind the desk… as if it had fallen—just like he said. It was unbelievable and yet completely believable at the same time. A perfectly reasonable explanation. The robot got back up onto his feet sluggishly—averting the Supreme Leader’s eye contact.

“I suppose that’s true…” But still, to forget something so important. He would have thought seeing the desk would jog his memory—if he had bumped into it like Ouma suggested or brushed his sleeve against the card. Even a robot could forget little things like that, though... yes. Still—Ouma wasn’t making fun of him for losing such a detail and wasn’t complaining about having to search the room and even get dusty in the process. That was… surprising in a nice way.

He did appreciate it. If this weren’t a prank—which it appeared not to be, as such a thought couldn’t be logical at this point—and given the fact that Ouma was actually… refraining from robophobic remarks ( always a plus in Kiibo’s book ), the robot smiled. Now that he had found his ID, he would need to mark sure not to lose it again so foolishly—keeping it on him, he walked outside of the room. Grabbing his phone, he texted the only other contact besides Miu he held.

[TEXT]: Thank you, Ouma-kun. I am grateful for your assistance.

[TEXT]: For causing the trouble, I want to do something for you.

As Kokichi “searched” behind the desk, he kept his attention on Kiiboy, in the corner of his eye. When he was certain the robot was too preoccupied with the shirt to notice, he pretend to scratch his ankle, and surreptitiously retrieved the ID. He dropped it behind the desk, in a particularly large pile of dust, moving it back and forth a bit to thoroughly coat it, then flicked it just out of reach.

Being an excellent multi-tasker, he even managed to answer Kiiboy’s questions while he did so.

“Well, a multi-tool knife is always useful. I like playing with rubber bands, and sometimes I flick them at people too. I use the origami paper for spitballs.” Actually, Kokichi used the origami to make fun, colorful gifts for children - small kids he saw on playgrounds or at shrines, who looked like they didn’t smile often enough. But he’d never in a million years admit to something that would so utterly ruin his image at school, so.

The second question couldn’t have come with better timing. Kokichi began to answer, “Yeah, of cour – “ then cut himself off, and crowed with triumph. “Hey, I think I see your ID! It’s behind your desk, but I can’t quite reach it.”

He wriggled backwards, bare arms covered in dust, beaming with smug pride. Kokichi didn’t need to verbally ask for the apology; he was clearly expecting it. 

Kiibo didn’t suspect a thing. There was nothing to suspect—Ouma was answering his questions so fluidly, it was as if he was just searching and doing nothing more. He should’ve been paying more attention to the Supreme Leader’s movements rather than the junk he had in his pockets.

Putting the shirt—as well as the items onto his bed—he took another look at the objects Ouma talked about. “Spitballs?” What in the world did that mean. “As usual, your antics are incomprehensible to me… flicking rubber bands at others seems rather… ineffective. Won’t you lose them if you do that?” And more importantly, it would probably hurt.

Before he had even gotten a chance to search his pants or his shoes… he… found his ID? What? No way. That wasn’t possible, because he hadn’t lost it and Ouma had stolen it—right? Rather quickly, he went towards the desk where Ouma was attempting to reach and wanted to see with his own eyes what he was talking about. He… was right. There it was, his ID. “Wh…”

No way. His memory bank was wrong? Was he malfunctioning somehow? He’d need to ask for maintenance on this subject… although, normally—his maintenance never involved the area in his head. More importantly, he needed to confront what was happening right now. The self-satisfied atmosphere being exuded—yes, Kiibo knew exactly what he was expecting. For the robot to get down on his knees and apologize. Closing his eyes tightly, he did just that… slowly, hesitantly—he got down onto his knees and bowed down.

Her lab had created a sort of hyper awareness within her. She had known she excelled with all sorts of weapons. She had trained with, if not used, all of them. Seeing them on display made her uneasy. It was nearly coming face to face with who she was. Who she needed to be to survive. The lives she had taken in order to survive. She couldn’t say it was guilt, but it was something almost close to it.

There was also a sort of… exposure in letting him examine her lab. Maki wasn’t straightforward or honest. She hid her talent. She still buried her thoughts and feelings away. She worked best with actions. Words failed her greatly. She had been taught the art of killing, not speaking. She didn’t believe she could approach anyone with gentleness. While she had taken the lives of innocence, she didn’t want to hurt those she didn’t have to. Another reason to push others away.

“…You’ve never handled a gun before, right?” she questioned, sizing him up. She was attempting to figure out why he wanted to. Did he not understand the implications of trying it? Why she could use any of these so effortlessly? She moved across the room, picking up a handgun. This should do. She walked back to him and held it out for him to take, “…Be careful of recoil, when you fire.”

He took hold of the handgun—which was heavier than he was expecting. It was already harder than he had thought… and this—this could take a person’s life. Something so small, yet so weighty. How did Maki feel when she held onto these weapons? She made it appear effortless, grabbing onto it so easily. An assassin was skilled with all sorts of weapons… evident from her lab. He continued to analyze his surroundings. The weapons. The shooting range.

Nodding, he took a closer look at the gun he was holding. “Yes, of course.” While he had never fired a gun before, nor even held one—he knew that there could be recoil when firing such a weapon. Truthfully, he’d never had a desire to shoot a firearm until walking into her lab. But it was seeing these weapons, the lack of understanding her talent… that made him want to know more. Dig deeper into the depths of an assassin’s mind. And the more understanding he had, the more he knew about all sorts of things… the better he could become. This was what he desired.

Walking into the shooting range area, he held out the gun. Imitating what he had seen on TV—the typical crime shows that he’d seen on before. Holding it as firmly and steadily as he could… he put his finger where the trigger was. This was just like on TV, he felt like a cop. “Harukawa-san. I just press it in to fire, correct?” Before she could answer, he did just that. He held in the trigger and a loud shot could be heard. Ouch. That was really loud—and the recoil was no joke… he almost thought his arm was going to come off. He’d need to see Miu in her lab later for this.

Man, Kiiboy was so much fun to play with. Doubt and uncertainty and suspicion were fun under most circumstances, but especially on the face of a robot.

“Of course I want to help you look! I have to prove my innocence, after all. When you realize you were wrong, Kiiboy, I expect you to bow down and apologize~” Kokichi snickered.

“Sure, I’ll prove it to you. Here, you can start by going through all the hidden pockets in my shirt,” Kokichi said generously, pulling off first his scarf, then his shirt, leaving him bare-chested. They were far enough into their first year at high school that Kokichi wasn’t blatantly skin and bones anymore, but he still looked underfed. Not that he expected Kiiboy to notice; if he’d thought the robot would pick up on that, he wouldn’t have taken his shirt off. He thrust the garment into Kiiboy’s arms. “Try not to lose any of my things, okay?”

Everything in the shirt pockets was replaceable - a pen, his lock-picking tools, a multi-tool knife, a few rubber bands, origami paper - so he didn’t actually mind if Kiiboy lost or took any of it, but it was fun to lay down the guilt trip.

“I’ll look behind your desk while you do that,” Kokichi said, crouching next to the desk. “And then you can search my pants pockets, okay?”

He didn’t specify whether he’d leave them on or take them off, and simply began peering and groping behind the desk, to all appearances searching in earnest.

He wouldn’t need to worry about bowing down and apologizing—because he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t a rational thought, after all. There was no way he misplaced his ID, and there was no way it had gotten lost. So when the comment was made, Kiibo remained blank-faced… even moreso when he saw the bare-chested Supreme Leader—who appeared underfed… not that he would notice. No, he didn’t notice at all, and so no comment was to be made. Instead, he stared for a brief moment... then, realized the oversized shirt was in his hands.

Time to go straight into business. Searching in his shirt pockets—finding a multi-tool knife… rubber bands ( which was weird to him ), and origami paper..? What in the world was the point of carrying this junk? “Why do you keep this… stuff with you? I do not see the point in carrying some of these items. Especially these rubber bands…” Yes, the rubber bands were really bothering him for some reason.

Well, he finished searching the shirt quickly enough. Scanning every nook and cranny he could… finding nothing of use. The ID was nowhere to be found. That was worrying. He supposed it would be time to check his pants pockets now. “What about your shoes. Am I permitted to search those as well?” Yes, the pants could definitely hide an ID, but he didn’t doubt that Ouma would be sneaky enough hide them somewhere such as a place like that.

He was hard to read. He kept mentioning this alleged inner voice. From what she recalled, he seemed to trust it with absolute certainty. Everyone had an inner voice, didn’t they? But his was different. She couldn’t say how or why. Maybe it was because he was a robot. Though that didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. She wouldn’t trust just anyone.

“Other than that first time, only those two idiots come here,” she replied, her tone still distant. Save for Kaito and Shuichi, most of the group still avoided her. There was still reason for people to fear her. She could easily utilize any weapon in this room. Then again, anything could be a weapon under the right motive. Even she was vaguely horrified by the gruesomeness of this game.

“Fine,” she conceded, after a long decisive moment. While she spent a good amount of time in her lab, she couldn’t guard it all day. If he really wanted to check out her lab, he could come when she was away. Any one of them could, for that matter. And attempting to pin it on her, using her lab equipment seemed too obvious.

“Just.. don’t touch anything without asking.”

It was obvious she was reluctant—from the moment he stepped inside her lab, to her agreeing. It was simply too dangerous of a room… but, that danger was slightly reassuring, wasn’t it? It was perhaps too obvious. Too obvious to pin a crime on her… or even use any of these weapons. Some of them looked too difficult for the average person to get a handle on, anyhow. Weapons she specialized in, knew how to use… she was definitely an assassin. That was made clear, as he carefully analyzed the room—the murderous items seen throughout the vicinity.

Nodding at her comment—he agreed to her condition. It wasn’t as if he were looking for weapons, anyhow… not to use. It would just be for the best if he were to know what all was in this room. Lots of knives (she must favor those…), many types of guns, and… some rather odd weapons, as well. Ones that he didn’t think she would use—such as a huge hammer, spears, an ax… she could wield all of these. At first glance, one would not think such of Maki—an assassin, capable and efficient  in committing murder in order to accomplish her mission. Kiibo was no different, as he wouldn’t have thought as much either.

Being accused so straightforwardly, with no extra blustering or insults, was so refreshing, Kokichi was almost tempted to be nice and just admit it and return the ID. 

Almost.

Though it was too bad Kokichi didn’t get a good opportunity to tease Kiiboy about how red-faced he was. Oh well.

“Nope. What would I even need that for?” Kokichi replied, using his most sincere performance. The one he used when he wanted people to think maybe, for once, he actually was telling the truth. “Maybe you just lost it, or it fell somewhere out of sight. Where did you see it last? I’ll help you look, Kiiboy.”

That was his question—why would he even need his ID? But this was Ouma, a prankster… an impish person, who liked to cause problems. Seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. So, it didn’t seem… too strange that he would take something he’d have no use for. But, how to prove it? It was small, and so it wasn’t as if he could just spot it on him—bulging out of his pockets or anything of the sort.

The honest look on Ouma’s face made it more perplexing, and for a moment—the robot did a double take. Perhaps he was wrong in his assumption? No, that couldn’t be. However, that face… it was as if he was being truthful. Oh, this was a problem. Maybe he was accusing him wrongly.

{❧} —- “Of course you don’t understand! You’re a robot.”

Kokichi was having fun with this. Was the other not considering the fact that he might be lying about taking anything? That’s hilarious to him. The supreme leader was only more amused as Kiibo continued to guess.

{❧} —- “Hmmm nope! I didn’t take any of those either! One more try Kiibo, then if you fail I’ll never return what I took.~”

He couldn’t help but wonder how long it waas going to be before the other realized he was lying about what he took. He also just added the three try rule just to mess with the other too. 

“Being a robot has nothing to do with this.”

Ouma may have been having fun, but Kiibo was becoming tired with his antics. What would he have taken? It wasn’t a wrench… it wasn’t a flask of chemicals… which was, admittedly, him grasping at straws… but what else was there? What else seemed like something he would take?

“… It was Iruma-san’s goggles, wasn’t it. You took her goggles, perhaps—when she was passed out after an all night session.”

This time. This time, he thought, he really had it. Something did seem off about all of this, however. For instance, even if he did guess correctly, would Ouma admit to it? Or lie again? What a troublesome quandary… even so, he would guess being that it was the best course of action he could think to do.