#kopuriko

it's a fictional character though please don't judge me

there's this absolute jerk and when I first started watching eps with him in, I was like "wow you bastard????? pls die u suck???" and I got really mad whenever I think about him because he's cruel and horrible and sly buT UH I keep trying to justify the things he's doing and thinking he's actually really good looking and not THAT bad then I slap myself mentally because no he sucks seriously like class A douche but apparently he turns good later in the series and yesterday I just sorta gave up- -

I HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM AND IT HURTSSSS

But I just??? I just keep thinking about him and gosh I just want him to be okay and all snuggled up safe indoor but at the same tiME I WANT TO DRIVE OVER HIS FACE WITH A TRUCK but then I wanna kiss him better and make sure he's comfortable and cook him dinner and dance with him anD ALSO WANT TO THROW HIM ACROSS A ROOM AND THROW HIM OFF OF A CLIFF

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“Does it bother you? What they say?”

Kopuriko glanced sidelong at Tsurara Mama, who was inspecting her knives without looking up like she hadn’t asked at all. There was no doubt that she had, though, and after a moment her eyes slid up to meet Kopuriko’s.

“Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity,” Tsurara Mama answered. “I could not help but notice some of the comments. They can be quite cruel.”

Kopuriko shrugged. The announcer’s voice had barely been audible over the roar of the crowd, down in the center of the stadium, but it had bled through. She may look like that, but--!!

“I’m used to it,” she said flatly. “I wear what I like to wear, and many people have issues with that.” A sly smile grew across her face. “I take comfort in knowing that I am better than them in every conceivable way.”

Tsurara Mama blinked, her composure stolen for a moment, and then laughed lightly behind her hand. “Very true. Your confidence is inspiring, Ms. Kopuriko. I hope we can compete at some point.”

“Yeah…” Kopuriko regarded Tsurara Mama thoughtfully, spinning around to sit on top of the table their tools were laying on. She crossed her legs showily, straightening one fully before folding it across the other. She didn’t miss how closely Tsurara Mama’s eyes followed the movement.

“You know, another reason I’ve never cared whether men were attracted to me…” she began airily, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Is that I’ve never been attracted to men.”

There was an audible pause, during which the clink of Tsurara Mama’s knives being placed carefully down was the only sound.

And then, “Ah. I see.”