#modkokichi

     “Hmmm, I see. Thanks, Kiyo!” You finished up your light but lengthy interrogation of the anthropologist, who elegantly bowed his head and disappeared into his lab. You exited, rounding the corner to investigate further. You headed toward the three empty rooms, wanting to re-examine Tenko’s body after Korekiyo’s statements, even if the thought of your friend’s corpse made you uneasy. It had to be done.

     You rounded the corner, a sharp yelp releasing from your throat.

     Shuichi, Maki and Kokichi turned to face you, startled by your sudden scream. Kokichi’s forehead was soaked, dripping pink rivulets of blood, and he was leaning on the wall for support.

     “What’s going on?! What happened?! D-did someone attack you, Kokichi?” You ran over, joining the group and looking to Shuichi for answers.

     “He’s fine.” Maki stated flatly.

     “Obviously not, his head is gushing!” You were a bit irritated with Maki’s indifference, but a bit biased with your opinion on Kokichi. You knew many people disliked him, Maki least of all, but you didn’t see a reason to hate him. In fact…you’d been nursing quite the little crush on him. You found him witty, cute, intelligent.

     “Yeah, he felt well enough to pull a childish prank on us, so I’d say he’s fine as well,” Shuichi’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, arms crossing as he looked at Kokichi with contempt. Kokichi simply grinned back.

     “What prank?” You inquired.

     “He pretended he was dead, lying there face-down and bloody only to pop up when we got worried!” Shuichi scoffed, his nasally, nerdy voice getting rather worked up.

     “Kokichi…” you warned, seeing Shuichi’s point now. Kokichi merely smirked back at you as well.

     “Anyway, we gotta go finish up this investigation before Monokuma cuts us off, so if you’ll excuse me, y/n.” Shuichi nodded, leaving with Maki to investigate Angie’s research lab. That left Kokichi and you in the hallway alone, his eyes drooping now that Shuichi was out of sight. A moment of weakness.

     “Kokichi, are you alright? That’s a lot of blood. And you hit your head, yes? What if you have a concussion or something?”

     “Why are you standing around? I haven’t seen you investigating at all, you lazy, lazy scoundrel,” he changed the subject. “Gonna leave all the work to everyone else?” He forced a venomous grin that quickly turned into a clenched-teeth grimace, his head pounding. It didn’t escape your notice.

     “For your information, Ouma, I have been investigating, it’s just obvious to me who the guilty party is, so I’ve been slowing down. I’m ready for the trial.”

     “Hmm so you’re useless and cocky? Great, just what we needed for this case!” He started walking off toward the stairs, still heavily depending on the wall. His words were harsh, but as usual, held an untruth within them. He knew you were smart, and that you probably had figured it out, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you, of course.

     “K-Kokichi! Let me help you!” You grabbed his arm before he could stumble down the stairs. He looked to you incredulously, but didn’t pull away, looking at the little drops of pink that stained his white jacket sleeve.

     “I don’t need your help, stupid-head! What, you’re the Ultimate Nurse or something? Ultimate babysitter? Go bother someone else!” He was trying your patience now, but you weren’t going to turn your back on someone obviously in pain. You saw pain in his eyes, both from his mysterious past and the current injury. Kokichi was more than meets the eye, and you could easily perceive that. It didn’t hurt that he was attractive.

     “No, the Ultimate Psychologist, remember?” You stopped him when he tried to pull away and continue down the stairs alone.

     “Ohhhh, pfft! Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I had forgotten since you never actually do anything during trials.”

     “Monokuma!!!” You yelled out, ignoring his insult. Kokichi jumped at your sudden volume, and the monochrome bear appeared seemingly out of thin air.

     “What do you twerps want?” He smiled, hands on his hips.

     “How much time do we have left in the current investigation?”

     “And why should I tell you...? I think that seems a bit unfair! Then I’d have to tell eeeeeveryone!” He leaned forward at your threateningly. You gestured toward Kokichi.

     “Kokichi is obviously in no shape for a trial. He needs to get cleaned up and assessed, at least. I’m asking you to allow me the time to do so, no more, no less?” You challenged him.

     “No way! You’re cra-“

     “Kokichi is easily the smartest one here, and he keeps the trial fun and interesting, wouldn’t you agree?” You hated using the word fun to describe the killing game. You thought it was horrific and morbid, but a little lie to help a friend in the end wasn’t against your morals. “If he’s down for the count or out of it during the trial, it’s going to be painfully boring, right? No one to harass Miu, and everyone else gets along pretty well. It’s going to be a hand-holding ceremony of cooperation. Do you want that?” You glared at the small robot, Kokichi’s mouth a bit agape behind you. Not only were you defending him, which no one here did, but you were standing up to Monokuma.

     “Hmmm...well, I suppose, if it will improve the trial...I must reluctantly agree!” Monokuma’s paw rose to his chin pensively. “You’ve got an hour! Not a minute over, got it?!”

     “Deal. Can I have a first aid kit?”

     “No!”

     “RISE AND SHINE URSINE!” The three remaining Monokubs appeared in front of you, with Monodam holding a large white case in his metal paws.

     “HERE. I. WILL. ALWAYS, CONTRIBUTE. TO. THE. CAUSE. OF. GETTING. ALONG,” Monodam spoke in his staccato mechanical voice, handing the plastic container’s handle to you.

     “You’re lucky my wittle cubs are so cute and helpful and wesponsible!” He swooned at the smaller bears. “Now get outta here, times ticking!”

     “SO LONG, BEAR WELL!”

     You turned to Kokichi with a smile, and to your surprise, he smiled back.

~

     You sat in your room in the dorms, with Kokichi leaning his head back gently onto the side of the tub in your small, personal bathroom. You sat on the edge, massaging the dry blood out of his hair as he pouted, arms crossed against his chest and thin legs splayed out in front of him.

     “OW!” You touched a sensitive spot, the opening of his wound a little too roughly, and he shook his feet up and down, stomping on the ground like a little kid. “It’s clear you’re trained to take care of people’s minds, not their bodies, you asshole!” He yelled up at you. You chuckled lightly, easing up on his skull and rubbing out a particularly crunchy bit of coagulated blood.

     “What ever do you mean by that, my dear Ouma?” You teased, and he stiffened up, before quickly realizing his emotions were plain on his face, and pouting again.

     “I mean, it’s clear you know how to unravel someone psychologically and trick them, like how you ‘know the culprit already’and persuaded Monokuma, but you really have no talent for physical care, huh?” You assumed he was referring to your rather rough treatment of his body...well, what he determined as rough.

     “I think you’re being a little unfair, Kokichi. I think I’m doing a pretty great job. Do you feel any better after the water?” You’d made him down a few water bottles upon entering your room and examined the wound before rinsing his dark locks out.

     “Hmpf! Whatever. I guess I am grateful to you,” he sighed, “but my appreciation will only continue if you prove you’re truly not as dumb as I once thought!” He looked off dreamily.

     “And how do I do that?” You wrung out the longer pieces of his hair, playing along.

     “Who is the culprit then...if you’re so smar-?” You wrapped his head in a towel and it covered his face and mouth, muffling his words, “HEY!” You giggled and quickly rustled the towel around gently, careful to avoid directly scraping his wound. When you were done you lifted the towel, peeking under to look at his face. He scowled at you, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

     “Aww, don’t look so angry. It only makes you cuter!” He turned away from you abruptly, embarrassed, then stood until he was hovering over your seated position, playing it off.

     “Whatever! I’m outta here. Some of us actually want to live through this trial.” You grabbed his hand as he began to exit your bathroom.

     “It’s Korekiyo. It’s obvious, to me at least…he killed them both.” His eyes widened. How did you…? Of course, he had already come to this conclusion. Seeing something like confusion in his eyes, you continued. “It became apparent as I analyzed him. I talked to him for quite a while.”

     “Did you... shrink him?” He scoffed, a bit impressed.

     “I’m afraid so,” you wore a crooked grin, standing to meet him.

     “Aww, poor guy. And he didn’t even make an appointment!!! Though, I guess it’s really your loss after all. You shrinks are expensive! I hope he has insurance!” He laughed loudly, pitying the graceful anthropologist who would shortly meet his doom.

     “You knew already, then?” You inquired.

      “Of course!! Evil recognizes evil after all, and he is evil.” He waltzed toward your bedroom door, not a hint of a thank-you or appreciative word coming from his lips. You didn’t stop him, knowing the trial would soon commence anyway. But then, your thoughts prodded at you, and your lips opened.

     “K-Kokichi?” He paused, hands on his hips as he turned to face you.

     “Whaaaat? We haven’t got all day!”

     “I need to place a bandage and some antibiotic over your wound...it’s pretty deep.” Why were you so worried about him, he wondered. “A-and...I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you…” your cheeks felt hot and you looked toward the ground. He rolled his eyes, walking over and plopping down, criss-cross-applesauce in front of you. “Kokichi?”

     “I can’t blame you for wanting my attention,” he spoke lazily, “I am the most entertaining person in this dump!” 

     “You really are charming, you know?” You spat sarcastically.

     It was clear, to everyone else at least, that you and Kokichi liked each other. You always took his side during trials, always walked back to the dorms with him at night, and he actually defended you when someone else insulted you. You of course, were not immune to his pranks and jabs, but only he was the only one allowed to tease you, no one else. He still hadn’t officially asked you out or made any physical moves, and many people were placing bets on if he ever would.

     “Nah, that little freak’s too much of a coward,” Kaito would say.

     “I just can’t see Kokichi actually caring about someone other than himself, at least not in a romantic type of way...” Shuichi would ponder.

     “He probably just wants to get into their pants,” Maki replied with a monotone voice. “Little creep.”

     “Gonta think they are cute together. Kokichi’s friends should want to see Kokichi happy! Maybe he can ask them to be his mate with bugs?” When Kirumi inquired how that would work and what Gonta meant, he scratched his head, “Hmmm...maybe spell out ‘you are special,’ in bugs?” The maid was about to ask how one would get the bugs to stay still, but decided her time was much better spent elsewhere.

     “I just hope his feelings are genuine,” Kiibo spoke frankly. “They are really kind person and it would be horrible if he takes advantage of their feelings, not that I’d put it past him,” he grumbled.

~

     You strolled through the hallway that afternoon. It was noon on the dot, in fact, and Kirumi always prepared a royal feast for every meal. Everyone else was probably there already. Kokichi was at your side, eager to tell you of all his plans for the day, but nervous about it his feelings. They were getting in his way. The more he liked you, the harder normal conversation became. He wasn’t one to tell the truth about anything, but especially not the contents of his heart.

     “So you’re like….what? The Ultimate Secretary?”

     You rolled your eyes. You know he knew exactly what your title was. He was just like this, making dumb conversation or trying to start a little argument and put someone in a huff to avoid silences.

     “You gonna organize all my files and come help me cheat on my wife after work?” he continued. “Should I bend you over my desk in a little mini skirt?” Kokichi teased, a far too innocent tone on his lips for the words he was saying. You were embarrassed, but not surprised by his words. He was always vulgar and bold. Fuck it, he thought. He was done being a pussy about it. He’d wanted to be more romantically and sexually forward with you for awhile now, and he knew your shyness was no match for his advances. You couldn’t help but get a bit flustered at his words. The desk comment was a bit much.

     “N-no, it’s Ultimate Personal Assitant, and you know that! I do much more than sort files! I run errands, arrange events, network, do volunteer work, take phone calls, scout for new employees, fire incompetent ones, fundraise, attend meetings, help with mental heal-“

     “Ohhh so you’re just a really good secretary!”

     “Well...” you searched for a rebuttal, and he enjoyed watching you squirm under his gaze, “what the hell is Ultimate Supreme Leader supposed to mean?” You teased, punching his soldier lightly. “That could be the leader of a small band of evil preschoolers for all we know!”

     Kokichi approached you suddenly, ripping your clipboard from your hand and tossing it to the ground before slamming you up against the nearest wall. His hips held your own in place, and he placed one hand on the wall beside your head before leaning in menacingly. You were really grateful that no one else was in the hallway where the little tyrant had decided to bully you on your way to Kirumi’s lunch. You found this position extremely compromising and didn’t know if you could handle on-lookers

     “You know, y/n, it’s realllllly dangerous to make fun of an evil supreme leader. Maybe you should choose your words more carefully…” Your face heated up, and you couldn’t help but tremble under his unrelenting stare.

     “I could show you just how dominating I can be, yeah?” His hand ghosted across your neck before pulling away, your breath catching in your throat. “Maybe you should be my personal assistant! I doubt you’ve ever worked for someone as important as me before.” You looked away, your heart beating too fast to face him. He grabbed your chin with pale, slender fingers and forced you to look into his violet, violent eyes.

     “Kokichi, if you like me, you should just say so,” you spoke quietly, but refused to allow your voice to waver. If you had to be cornered emotionally, then dammit, so did he!

      “Who would ever like you?” He snarled and leaned in, still holding your chin, until his smirking lips hovered dangerously closely to yours. “Sigh...oh well!” He backed off of you, hands behind his head, “I’ll convince you to work under me one day. The benefits are great~” He skipped off down the hall as if nothing had happened, a child-like grin on his face.

     You were left a nervous mess, picking up your clipboard and straightening out your clothes.

- You and Byakuya had been dating for a little over six months

- You didn’t have to tell him you had issues, he could tell

- Byakuya was a highly intelligent and intuitive man, and although he didn’t show it very openly, he clearly cared

- You often found him his mansion’s extensive library lazily flipping through self-help books on childhood abuse or mental health and trauma, how to notice signs and approach people with trauma

- You never interrupted his reading, but you knew those books weren’t for his own benefit

- You’d smile and kiss his forehead, silently letting him know you see him trying and appreciate it, before leaving him to read all night

- He’d casually mention it to you when he met a famous or reputable therapist or psychologist during his many business meetings and parties for the elite, hoping you’d ask him to give you their contact information, but never pushing you

- He would of course cover all therapy expenses

- Speaking of these rich-people parties, he always asked you to attend, buying you expensive gowns and loving the attention other men gave you as you hung off of his arm. He loved showing the world you were his, but knew that crowds and loud events sometimes caused something deep inside you to snap, and he’d whisk you off to a balcony or back room to breathe, rubbing your back and bringing you wine or immaculate hors d'oeuvres to busy your hands and mouth

- He wasn’t the best at talking about feelings, but he’d chosen you and loved you, so he’d listen or sit with you until you were ready to get back on your feet

- He often had a cross or angry-looking face as he sat with you, and you felt bad, like a burden on his good time

- The one time you inquired about it while sitting outside of a ballroom, he admitted very reluctantly that he was angry that he couldn’t fix you on his own, not that you were ruining his life or anything

- He realized how harshly he worded that, and upon seeing tears in your eyes, he pulled you into his chest and let you cry

- “That’s not what I meant, s/o, and you know it. I simply meant that I won’t abandon you in this struggle, just as you would not abandon me if the situation was reversed. You know that I love you... damn it, why do you make me say such sentimental tripe out loud?” You couldn’t help but giggle at his frustrated tone

- He really did love you so much, letting words fall from his mouth that he never thought he’d say whenever he was around you

     “See ya, babe. Don’t be late after last period today, I got some shit to handle for my dad as soon as I drop you off at work,” Fuyuhiko spoke lazily, a nudge on your shoulder to get your attention again.

     “Yeah, ‘course!” You smiled as he leaned in and pecked you on the cheek, routinely, like he had every morning for the past few years. “See ya, ‘Hiko!” He nodded, sauntering off with books under his arm and his free hand in the pocket of his slacks. “Bye, Peko!” You bowed your head to the swordswoman who followed diligently behind your boyfriend, nodding her acknowledgment to you. You sighed, watching him disappear into the entrance of the main wing of Hope’s Peak Academy. Your eyes glossed over dreamily, lingering on him. Was that a new cologne on him today? Maybe he was wearing his uniform a little neater than usual this morning…

     “Let’s go, fuckin’ space cadet!” A shove from behind knocked you forward toward the entrance of the Reserve Course wing, You sighed deeply. “My brother ain’t that cute, damn!”

     “Natsumi, you could’ve just said something.” You pushed back the frustration in your voice in favor of a small smile in her direction.

     “Whatever, we’re gonna be late, and I’m not dealing with another one of Mr. Nakamura’s lectures on the value of punctuality!” She stuck her tongue out as if gagging, her blonde hair floating through the air as she rushed past you, her shoulder roughly knocking into yours.

     “Geez...that girl…” You shook your head, following behind.

     You couldn’t really complain about anything or anyone at Hope’s Peak, seeing as you were just lucky to be there in the first place. After dating Fuyuhiko for a little over two years, he got scouted and asked to attend Hope’s Peak’s main course as the Ultimate Yakuza. You were so happy for him, and proud, but he wasn’t as thrilled. He was really attached to you, with your father and his father being childhood friends and clan members, and your own childhood friendship with him had blossomed into this loving and loyal relationship. It was the best kind. After all, people always say the healthiest and longest-lasting marriages came when your spouse was your best friend, and you definitely intended to marry that boy one day. With how close you two were, he’d be damned if he was splitting up with you for some stupid school, but both you and his father weren’t having it. Mr. Kuzuryu only gained more influence and pride once his son started going to the best school in the country, and you just wouldn’t let your boyfriend pass up on the opportunity of a lifetime, and so…

     Fuyuhiko had gotten his father to personally pay for your tuition in order to enter the Reserve Course. It wasn’t like your family was poor, but you weren’t Hope’s-Peak-level rich. You protested at first, of course, feeling like a burden, but you could see that Fuyuhiko was quickly getting angry at your refusals and excuses, so you accepted. Plus, he told you that he wanted someone he trusted to look after his little sister, Natsumi, and you let him give you this excuse as a justification to accept his father’s financial support.

     The Reserve Course wasn’t that bad, certainly much more high class than your previous school, but sharing most of your classes with Natsumi was a pain in your ass. Her father was the leader of the Kuzuryu clan. Your father was one of his subordinates, below him, and she seemed to like to remind you of that every five minutes. She talked down to you endlessly, and seemed jealous of the attention her brother gave you, but you had absolutely no room to complain to Fuyuhiko about it after what his father had done for you, so you just didn’t. As far as he knew, you and his sister were on good, neutral terms. She was mean and a smart-ass to everyone, so he didn’t expect you two to be having sleepovers and make friendship bracelets, but he figured you liked her, and she didn’t hate you.

     You could sense a deep insecurity in Natsumi: a need to be recognized, a want to be in the main course, an inferiority complex that you sometimes saw in other Kuzuryu’s you knew, so you tried to always be nice to her. Everyone has their struggles, and her aggressive personality was how she pushed back hers. She was in your life for good, if you wanted to stay with Fuyuhiko, and besides, you promised him you’d look after her. And so, you kept your chin up and walked to class with a smile...until you opened the classroom door.

     “I’m telling you, Kuzuryu, I don’t care who your father is, none of us do! You’re in the Reserve Course just like us because you’re no better than anyone else here!” The green haired girl, Sato, Natsumi’s current and longest-standing arch-enemy, loomed over Natsumi, her face red with anger and hands balled into trembling fists at her side. Really...they’re starting early today...school just started.

     “Move your stupid face and smelly breath out of my face before I move it for you!” Natsumi spat back, leaning further into the argument. You quickly ran and stood between them. Every day was like this, with you or your classmate Hajime Hinata - a plain boy with a big heart - breaking it up before it escalated. But it was wearing on you, having been going on for over a month.

     “What the fuck did you say, bitch?! Just because your dad is some thug criminal doesn’t mean no one can touch you! You’re testing my patience!” Sato’s hand raised, and your own shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

     “Woah, woah!” Your breath was shaky. “What’s it about, today, guys? What happened?” Sato was mad about you stopping her, of course, but she liked you, certainly more than she did Natsumi, and she respected you and Hajime for always looking out for your classmates, even if she didn’t want to admit it. After all, you’d stuck up for her and others just as much as Natsumi over the course of the semester - not taking Natsumi’s side so much as simply diffusing the situation - so she paused her attack, huffing. You couldn’t actually believe Sato raised her hand to Natsumi. They always bickered, every single day, but it hadn’t gotten physical, yet.

     “She’s talking shit about Mahiru again! I told this bitch to stay away from Mahiru and keep her name out of her mouth, but of course her jealousy knows no limits!” Sato spat, and you looked to Natsumi as if for confirmation. Just then, Hajime Hinata, as well as your professor, waltzed into the room together, just a little late after the bell. Upon seeing the scene before them, Mr. Nakamura spoke out:

     “What’s going on here? I’m a few minutes late and you guys think class should turn into a free-for-all? Get to your seats!” You looked to Natsumi, then Sato.

     “Guys, this isn’t worth it, please…” Your eyes pleaded softly. Sato scowled, turning away and returning to her seat. Natsumi pushed past you, her lips close to your ear.

     “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again, I don’t need you fighting my fuckin’ battles for me…” she whispered, her tone flat and menacing, “I don’t care if you’re dating my brother, if you get in my way again, I’ll handle you and Sato.” You knew she didn’t mean it. She was hotheaded like her brother, and at this moment she felt bested by Sato, not having gotten to say her piece and have the final word in the argument. She was embarrassed and angry. So you let her go back to her seat without a response or retort.

     When the class period ended, you caught Natsumi walking past Sato as everyone was leaving the room, speaking harshly. “Hey, Sato, raise a hand to me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

~

     You were in the back of a sleek limousine, sitting on Fuyuhiko’s lap, your arms around his neck as he attacked your neck with rough kisses. Being alone in the back was nice and all, but it felt so...off. Usually, Natsumi rode along with you, and any friends that were riding back to the Kuzuryu east-side guesthouse after school to hang out. Friends and non-clan members weren’t allowed in the Kuzuryu main manor, it was far too dangerous, but the Kuzuryu’s owned many little extravagant homes, lounges, stores and clubhouses where you’d meet up and pass time with friends.

     “ ‘Hiko, why isn’t Natsumi here, again?”

     “I told you, some shit about a photography club meeting after school. You know she likes taking pictures and shit.” His brow furrowed at the interruption before going back to your neck. “Geez, just savor it. I rarely have time to be alone with you.” You pushed his shoulders back.

     “Y-yeah but, Natsumi isn’t in the photography club for the Reserve Course. I know because I’m in it...we don’t have a meeting this week.” You started to worry.

     “Whatever, who cares. Maybe she went off to give some kid a handy behind the school.” You rolled your eyes at his facetious tone and he smirked. “Why do you care? She’s fine.” He took his attack south to your collarbone, and you let him as you continued.

     “Well...it’s just…she’s been having issues with this girl in class and I’m worried…”

     “Issues?” His head popped up, face screwed up in an annoyed and anxious expression, but then melting into careful suspicion just as fast. “What kind of issues? I’m sure that if it was that bad, you’d have told me a while ago, yes?”

     “W-well, of course, but...I mean nothing’s happened, really…they usually just swear and insult each other, but today, things almost got physical…” He paused, thinking.

     “...what’s been going on?” Physical for a boy used to being around yakuza could mean anything from a fistfight to a bullet to the head, so he automatically assumed the worst most of the time.

     “I don’t know...they just hate each other. Natsumi doesn’t like this girl...Mahiru Koi...something. She’s in your class. She’s jealous of her, I think...and so Sato, the one Natsumi is fighting with, is defending Mahiru to be a good friend, but-“

     “Pfft! I thought you were gonna say something serious. This is petty high-school girl shit, s/o! If they wanna throw punches, break their nails and pull hair, let them. Natsumi and I see blood spilled every day. She can handle herself in a fight. Let her pop this Sato chick in the mouth, then. Who cares? Bet it will settle this little spat of theirs. You shouldn’t be so stressed about it.” His eyes softened, rubbing your back with one hand.

     “I know, it’s just...I mean you told me to look out for her, and it’s not like I don’t care about your sister, she’s like family to me…”

     “It’s not your job to babysit and bodyguard her. I just said that so you’d take the damn tuition money and I think you know that,” he snorted, shifting your position on his lap to kiss you on the forehead. “If she really needs someone like Peko, we’ll get her someone, but we both wanted to go to school without the clan’s influence. You know that…” he trailed off.

     “I know, but-“ the driver stopped abruptly.

     “I’ll see you after work. Don’t stress about this, seriously.” Fuyuhiko pushed your folded up work clothes into your hands, and you gave him a look of warning, as if to say ‘you aren’t taking this seriously’ before he gestured toward the limousine door, giving you a playful slap on the ass as you exited with the driver patiently holding the door open for you. “I love you.”

     “I love you, too, ‘Hiko,” you smiled before pushing through the large crystal doors on the upscale, Kuzuryu-owned men’s clothing boutique for your shift.

~

     The next day was like any other school day: dropped off at the gates, Fuyuhiko’s peck on your cheek, Natsumi walking with you to first period...but, what was that grin on her face…? She hated waking up early, she hated first period...she was always sluggish or irritable and waiting for her morning caffeine to kick in. You decided you were being paranoid, and shook it off.

     When you entered the classroom, the students were all huddled in the corner, surrounding Sato, who was screaming at Hajime about something.

     “-and I am not just gonna let this slide, Hinata! You better fuck of-“ Hajime saw you two enter, and Sato’s eyes followed his own, her rant cutting off. Locking eyes with Natsumi, who smirked back wickedly, she flew out of her seat, launching herself at your future sister-in-law. Natsumi fought back, her hands around Sato’s neck as Sato pulled her down to the ground.

     “Oh my-stop!” You pulled at Natsumi’s arms, everything seeming to happen so fast. She threw an elbow back toward you for interfering, and it hit your side roughly. You grimaced, the pain working hard but your adrenaline working harder. You thrust yourself between the girls, pulling Natsumi back with all of your might. Hajime rushed over, pulling Sato off the ground and holding her back as she kicked and swung.

     “I told you-! You-let go of me!!!” Natsumi resisted as well, and you and Hajime locked eyes, barely keeping hold of the two combatants.

     “What could possibly be worth all this!” You wheezed, Natsumi quickly overpowering you.

     “That cunt! Let me go, Hinata or I’ll fuck you up, too!” Sato roared, catching the attention of Mr. Nakamura, who rushed in and quickly pressed his authority, threatening both girls with suspension or worse if they spoke another word or touched each other. They were both sent to the headmaster’s office, with Hajime being asked to escort them since they ‘obviously needed to be monitored like children’.

     You sat in your desk seat, uniform askew, armpits wet with perspiration. Another student filled you in after class. Apparently, Natsumi had gone over to the photo development room in the main course’s wing after school, and ripped up each and every photo Mahiru was going to present at the upcoming photography competition on campus. Twenty photos for a gallery opening up tomorrow for student work. Twenty priceless, stunning photographs by the Ultimate Photographer, all gone. Oh...so that’s why Sato was so pissed. You had to admit, it was hard to defend Natsumi at this point. You released a breath you’d been holding in, putting your head down on your desk to just calm your thoughts before texting Fuyuhiko. You filled him in about what happened, every detail, and your thoughts on it, taking Sato’s side as gently as possible. You had hoped to get his counsel, simply wanting validation and reassurance that there was nothing to worry about, but you ended up only making it worse.

     Natsumi texted you about fifteen minutes later, calling you a fucking snitch and many other expletives, saying with malice that now her brother was on her case. Fuyuhiko then texted you saying he told Natsumi she better go straight to the limo after the last bell rang like a fire was lit under her ass, and that he wanted you to stand outside her last class and wait for her to make sure she did just that. You swallowed your spit down hard, throat going dry all of a sudden. You didn’t intend for this to happen. Now Natsumi was going to hate you, and Fuyuhiko is going to be in a bad mood. Why did you have to be so stupid? Why did Natsumi have to cause so much trouble? Maybe you should just let her suffer on her own, and stop stressing about it like Fuyuhiko said. This wasn’t fair, for you to feel like this because of her behavior.

~

     You left your last class a few minutes early, rushing to Natsumi’s classroom with an exhausted and anxious air about you. You found the class, and leaned on the wall beside the door, preparing for her to march out and scream at you and who knows maybe even strangle you because that’s what she was into now apparently and-

     Your ears perked up at a loud sound, like muffled yelling and a crash of glass. It sounded nearby, but far away at the same time. The yelling picked up, a bit louder now, and you felt yourself get nervous for no reason. It had to be on this floor, and close. You looked around, and held your bag close, sprinting down the hall. The sound got louder, confirming your suspicions until you were in front of the music room, with yelling and then a strangled cry coming from the other side. You panicked, fumbling with the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the door, your breathing getting harder and faster. Backing up, you braced yourself, and ran at the door with the strength of fight-or-flight adrenaline in your veins, throwing your shoulder into the hard door and it flew open, slamming into the wall on the other side.

     “NATSUMI!” You didn’t have time to baby your injured shoulder, as the scene before you needed immediate action, obviously. A broken glass fish tank was scattered on the ground, gravel and quickly dying freshwater fish littering the floor. The room was a mess, with sheet music and desks knocked over and spilled out everywhere. Sato stood near the window, her hands around Natsumi’s neck in a vice-like grip, and Natsumi gasping and flailing, her eyes slowly rolling to the back of her head. “Sato, what the fuck are you thinking?!!!” You ran at her, and Sato didn’t even look in your direction, her mind clouded with hatred and blood lust. Knocking into Sato with all you had, she fell forward into the window, releasing Natsumi as the window splintered and cracked around her.

     Natsumi hit the the wall beside the window and fell to the floor, gasping and choking, her lungs clawing desperately for air. Sato leapt at her again, and you tackled her to the ground, looking up at Natsumi.

     “Go! GO! Fuyuhiko will be at the gates! Get him!” Natsumi looked shocked, traumatized, and simply stared at you, while Sato spat and growled and tried to buck you off, reaching for Natsumi’s skirt. “Get someone! Please!”

     “I-I told you I don’t need y-your help, s/o!” She tried to keep up her gangster’s-daughter persona even in her shaken-up state, but her voice betrayed her and tears sprung from her eyes. Sato threw you off and started to stand.

      “Run! Natsumi, RUN!!” She heard the seriousness in your voice, the fear, and she had never heard you sound like that before. You were her brother’s sensitive, pacifist, kind-hearted s/o, and here you were, in danger because of her. She shook off her pride, and ran toward the door as you grabbed Sato’s ankle and she tripped to the ground again. Natsumi disappeared down the hall, screaming for help the entire way.

      “Fuck you! Fuck you!! She deserved this! You ruined everything!” Sato sounded like an animal more than a high-school girl. She reached to her right, twisting her body around violently until she could reach a long shard of glass from the fish tank, and she brought it down hard on your thigh, the glass tearing into your flesh.

     You screamed out in pain, your vision blurring quickly at the shock of it, sobs coming immediately from your mouth. Blood gushed out of the inches-deep wound, and your heads involuntarily released Sato. When you steadied yourself, steeling your nerves, and reached out to try and neutralize her again, she pulled the glass out of your leg, slamming it down again, hitting a vein deeply before pulling it out. You yelped and forced yourself to stand as she did, blood spurting freely from your leg. You fell more than threw yourself onto her, your head beginning to spin and feeling consciousness leaving you slowly. Leaning on her, you wrapped your arms around her waist with all of your remaining energy, and gripped tightly, hoping you could at least burden her enough to make leaving to room slower and making it impossible for her to catch up to Natsumi or flee the scene before help came.

     Now with a great strength advantage over you, she arched her back, threw her head back, and slammed you behind her into the wall. Your head hit the wall with a crack, and immediately you slumped to the ground, your world going dark.

~

     “...hear me? S-.....” fuzziness. Emptiness. Darkness. “-lose you, please! You h-“ A voice faded in and out, then finally out for good. Hours later, you felt yourself stir.

     When your eyelids flew open, the ceiling above you was white, clean, calming.

     “S/o?!” Fuyuhiko? You sat up quickly, a pounding in your head making you gasp and whimper. “No, no! You need to stay down.” A hand on your chest softly guided you back onto the pillow below you. You turned your head to the side. You took in your surroundings slowly. A hospital. You were in a hospital bed, and Fuyuhiko had been in a chair beside you, now standing at your side. His hands flew to your face, cradling your cheeks. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Are you fucking crazy?” His words were harsh, but there was no anger behind them, only worry and pain. You felt the wrap of linen around your head wound, and adjusting your leg at all resulted in a sharp spike of pain shooting up your body.

     “Where’s Natsumi? Is she okay? Did Sato-“

     “I don’t wanna hear that bitch’s name. And why are you worried about Natsumi right now?!” Now there was anger. “You almost fucking died, s/o! I almost lost you!” His voice cracked on that last word, and your eyes widened at the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes before he angrily rubbed them away with his sleeve. “Natsumi’s fucking fine. She didn’t have anything more than a few bruises on her neck. Nothing’s broken or injured except her pride. And she will be coming to thank and apologize to you at length later.” You didn’t comment on that last bit, deciding instead to ask about what happened after you passed out.

     Natsumi found a security guard at the entrance, he explained, and he saw her screaming from his position at the school gates. He rushed over to yell at her and figure out what the hell was going on, before having her grab him by the wrist and force him into the school with stuttering gibberish about you and that you were in trouble or something like that with the security guard running close behind. When they got to the music room, the door was open and Sato was nowhere to be found.

     Fuyuhiko had screamed your name, his throat ripping apart as he swore and cried and snot ran down his face like a fool. He ran to what he thought was your corpse, blood splattered everywhere, pooling under you, a little patch of blood on the wall behind you head. He took in your closed eyes and thigh oozing slowly-drying blood, and picked you up into his arms, his clothes getting covered in the liquid. He screamed at Natsumi to call for the police, an ambulance, anything, while the security guard called for backup and went off to find Sato. You were brought immediately to the hospital along with Natsumi, and he’d been waiting by your bed ever since, just pleading, begging you to wake up. Sato was apprehended by police a few blocks from the school, obviously off her rocker and in a manic state.

     “You...you were almost gone. You lost...just so much blood,” he sniffled.

     “But, I’m here,” you reached up and grabbed his hand, a comforting smile on your lips, “aren’t I?” He scoffed at you.

     “You fucking idiot,” he shook his head, leaning down and kissing you roughly on the lips, tears from his eyes falling onto your cheeks. “I fucking love you. Don’t make me worry like this.” He pulled back, face inches from yours.

     “I love you, too, so much.” You looked back at him with some indeterminable emotion washing over you. You were just overwhelmed.

     “I will always love you. Please, don’t leave me.”

     “So, in essence, that is why the Egyptians worshipped Hathor, in all her grace and beauty. Isn’t that fascinating, y/n?” Korekiyo mused, watching you carefully as you waltzed through the rows of scrolls and ancient texts in his research lab.

     “Yes, it’s a wonderful story! You really are lucky to have traveled to Eygpt! Heck, I’d never even left Japan until...well coming to wherever we are trapped now. Do you mind?” You pointed to a particularly intricate and elaborate book cover on a high up shelf.

     “Not at all, my dear. Feel free to take any materials from my lab that you wish, as long as you promise I can visit your lab freely as well?” You let the words ‘my dear’ ghost over your ears with little to no reaction. Normally, if such a handsome man had playfully rolled those words off of his tongue in your direction, your neck hairs would have stood on end like a startled cat, but with Korekiyo it was different. You did harbor some...feelings for him, but he called everyone dear, right? He was always spewing mature and polite crap like that.

     “Yeah, of course, though I don’t know why an anthropologist would ever waste his time in a plain old dance studio,” you chuckled, on your tip-toes struggling for the tome far above you. Korekiyo snuck up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached up and plucked the book down for you, placing it gently in your hands. You held the book to your own chest and turned to face him, finding yourself flush against the wooden bookshelf with the lanky anthropologist trapping you in place. “Thanks, Kiyo!” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as he tilted his head at you like a curious puppy hearing the word ‘treat!’ You tried to settle your stuttering heart. Surely he was just being nice, right?

     “Think nothing of it…” his hands came up slowly on either side of your head, caging you in between his slender arms. “You know, y/n, Hathor is known mainly for her impressive duality. She balances femininity and softness with strength and vengeance. She is a protector, but also is the harbinger of dance, joy, love...sexuality.” His voice deepened into a rasp that was like melted chocolate flowing freely over your ears. His proximity was beginning to make you dizzy. “You remind me of Hathor in many ways. I see the way you take care of your friends here, the way you defend people, but also the with which you dance: the water-like movements of your passion.”

     “...” you stood there, silent for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. He looked at your expectantly, his expression unreadable through his mask. “Well, thanks, Kiyo! I never thought you’d be into ballet! Though I guess dance is a part of culture as much as anything else!” You ducked under his arm with a chipper attitude, shuffling into the open space of his lab, and he sighed deeply, looking at the ground in self-pity. Were you really not interested in him? He couldn’t blame you. Many people saw him as a creep, a pariah. He was a teenager that wore a mask at all times for crying out loud. He endlessly spewed random facts and unsolicited folk tales. Of course people avoided him. But you...you visited him every day. Before his lab opened up, you met with him in the library and inquired about his day. You asked him to eat lunch with you, and walk you back to the dorms after dinner. You asked to hear his stories, and he found himself growing to like you more and more. He didn’t want to admit his feelings until he knew for sure that you felt the same, but it was looking like his old friend, rejection, might win the war once again.

     “Kiyo, this lab is simply amazing! You’re so lucky... you got the biggest one yet! My studio looks like a janitor’s closet compared to this!” You spun around on the new floor on his lab, taking in the sights, book in hand. You’d been here every day since it opened, but dedicated yourself to one section a day, having only reached this floor earlier that evening. You thought knowledge like this deserved time and respect. Korekiyo agreed of course.

     “Well when one’s area of study is the entire world, a proportionately large area is needed for said study,” he drawled, slinking along behind you as you sat in a chair on the main floor. He sat in the chair across from you in front of the wall of display cases holding ceremonial swords and masks as you fingered through the book in wonder.

     “Woah…” your eyes widened innocently.

     “Ahhh, the Kama Sutra? You’re holding one of the oldest copies known to man.” He leaned closer to you, splaying his fingers over the page you were on slowly and seductively. “I had no idea you were this kind of person, y/n…” there’s that confectionary tone again, sweet and dripping with carnal desire.

     “N-no of course not I just...what kind of person do you mean? I mean...I think the book is just interesting, the cover and the design on the spine drew me in and-“

     “We should never judge a book based on its cover, yes?” He let his honeyed-words sink in to your doe-like eyes, “I think human beings, much like this book, hide things within our pages not immediately evident on our covers.”

     “I agree…” his words flew right over your head. “Like you! I didn’t know you had an interest in ballet at all!” He was starting to get frustrated, but he exhaled deeply, his inner voice telling him to have patience.

     “Well, yes, I’ve seen many different forms of dance, and of course, ballet is delicate and breath-taking, but also very strenuous. Another thing we shouldn’t take at face value. I’ve seen the feet of many a poor dancer after a performance, and it really is a harsh contrast to the grace of the dance itself.”

     “Yes, yes! You get it!” He smiled at your child-like wonder, with you seeing only the crinkle of his eyes above the mask. “I know so many men who don’t even think dance of any kind can be a sport. I think many so-called atheletes would give up on day one of ballet lessons.” You chuckled, and he let himself be enveloped in your laughter. He was complete entranced in your aura.

     “So, you will allow me to view your ballet practice in private some time? I’ve seen you with your lab door open in passing, but I would be absolutely delighted if you’d honor me with a private session, so I could focus on you and only you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long raven hair falling around him like a bed canopy.

     “Oh, Kiyo…” you began, your own heart hurting at the words you were about the speak, but it was for the best. You didn’t want to waste his time, not in a place like this. “I know you’re interested in ballet, but after those first two trials and this whole not-knowing-when-we-are-gonna-die thing, I don’t think it would be a worthy use of your time to pull yourself away from all of this,” you gestured to the gigantic room around you, “in order to-”

     “Y/N-!” He spoke angrily and abruptly, startling you, before composing himself and beginning again, taking the book from your hand and instead intertwining his fingers in your own. “...I am not interested in ballet, so much as I am interested in you. Do you understand?” You felt your body tense up in complete shock. He wasn’t serious right…? He was teasing you, taking advantage of your naïveté and your obvious feelings for him. Maybe you weren’t hiding them as well as you’d thought.

     “Me…?” You looked at his wrapped hand in yours, the bandages scratchy texture pulling you back down to earth.

     “Yes, you.” He spoke bluntly, with nothing but compassion in his voice.

     “But you’re...you’re so…” he braced himself, waiting for the insults and degrading comments that always followed when he let his walls down around normal people.

     “...Odd? Long-winded? A freak of nature?” He sighed, pulling away.

     “Beautiful…” you could hardly hear your own words pouring from your mouth, the pounding of your heart beat too loud in your ears. You grabbed his hand, and in a moment of fragile silence, began to unwrap the linen that covered every inch of his fingers, then down to his palms and wrists. His hands, now revealed to you fully for the first time, were just as beautiful as his voice and cat-like golden eyes. They were pale, ghostly, ethereal. They looked like they could break at the slightest touch, but withstand any hard labor that was thrown at them at the same time. “Korekiyo, you spend so much time telling others that humanity is beautiful, that you haven’t taken the time to see it in yourself, have you? At least...not for a long while.”

     “Y/N, I-” you reached for the top of his mask with shaking fingers, and he jerked away roughly, terrified. When you reached out again, he didn’t move, steeling himself to be exposed to you. You deserved to see the truth. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

     Your fingertips lingered at the top of the mask before tugging it down gently. He kept his eyes shut tightly as you observed his full face.

     The tip of his nose, which you could tell from the nose bridge was thin, came to an adorable point above his lips. A delicate, milky white chin led up on either side to a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and a flawless complexion. That powdery complexion was met in stark contrast to the blood-red pigment of a matte lipstick staining his lips.

     “Y/N, I didn’t want you to see me...truly see me for the first time like thi-” you brought your lips closer to his until they were touching, and soon found yourself leaning into his chest, into his lap in his seated position in front of you. Your lips pressed into his, a bit more bold now, and your confidence spurred his own. You now straddled his hips, your legs on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your hips, his hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulled back, scanning your face for any regret, any shame or fear, and sensing none, crashed his lips onto yours again. He roughly sucked on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from your mouth that excited him more than anything corporeal had in a long time. You never thought he’d be such a good kisser.

     “Korekiyo…” you pulled back again, giving you both some much-needed air. “I never thought that...someone like you would even glance my way. You’re so intelligent, so regal and elegant and different from the norm and…” your words trailed off, and his thumb reached up to your lips, roughly wiping away the red lipstick that clung onto your face as a reminder that he had been there.

     “Likewise, y/n,” he reclined back into the chair with you still on his lap, a little too cocky and cheeky for his own good, but to say the smirk on his messy red mouth wasn’t turning you on would be a lie.