#momoaka

Momota sat on his front porch steps, fuming silently as Akamatsu bounced a basketball around the makeshift court in his parent’s driveway.

Two years. Two years in a row he’d made it to the semi-finals, only to be beaten out by some trailblazing newbie. A scrawny thing named Amami had charmed the judges with his sultry baritone voice and long eyelashes. Stupid. Momota was willing to bet money that he’d be the first to die in this season’s Danganronpa. At least Momota had a fighting chance, being 6’0” and the top point guard in the entire varsity basketball league.

Losing had put him a sour mood all day, and Akamatsu was only making it worse. She was really pissing him off, the way she kept following him around school and poking at his sides to make him jump. Didn’t she have anything better to do?

Even now, she demanded his attention. After school let out, she followed him home despite his protests. Normally he’d welcome her company, but today he wished she’d leave him alone. Even now she was getting on his nerves. She bounced the ball around aimlessly, making an attempt every once and a while to throw it in the basket and failing each time. She kept glancing over at him - (why was she looking at him like that?) - but he turned away before they could make eye contact.

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hand. 

Today was such a shit day.

“Hey.”

She called to him after hours of silence. He pretended that he didn’t hear.

“Hey, dickwad!”

He heard a whoosh of air and instinctively held up both hands, catching the ball that Akatmatsu had thrown directly at his head. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention all day. Why are you ignoring me?.”

Momota scoffed, his frown deepening.

“Shove off, princess. I’m not in the mood.”

There was a quick moment of silence, then the sound of angry footsteps headed in his direction. He lifted his head, finally giving her the time of day, and saw a very angry Akamatsu glaring down at him.

“No. Now I’m pissed.”

She moved in closer, placing one foot beside him. Admittedly, he was a little nervous. Akamatsu was a sprout compared to him, but when she set her sights on something… she was almost impossible to stop.

“... Get away from me...”

A dubious grin spread across her face. She stretched out her hands, which alerted Momota to what was coming next.

“Wait, no…! Don’t fucking touch me- EEHEEHEEHAHAHA! Noooooo!”

It was too late. Curling into himself did little as Akamatsu dug her long nails into his ribs. His worst spot and she knew it. All coherent thought went out the window; the only thing he could focus on were the maddening tickles. His skin twitched under her touch and his body seemed to moved of its own accord, twisting from side to side in attempt to shake her off. God, why did something as silly as tickling make him lose his mind so easily?

Although it weakened him, he still had the advantage of size. Once the initial shock factor wore off, he began to push back. A struggle ensued that ended with Akamatsu sprawled beneath him, giggling before he even had the chance to touch her.

“Ehehehe… hey…!”

He felt a rush of power and grinned like a madman, mentally preparing an attack of his own.

“You wanted my attention? Here it is.”

His tickles were much more sadistic in nature. He used one hand to pin both of her wrists above her head and the other to poke all over her waist. He started with random prods at her waistline, which elicited loud shrieks on their own. Then he skittered his nails in both underarms, which made her cries for mercy more urgent. To keep the element of surprise, he suddenly switched his focus and scrambled his fingers up and down one side from elbow to hip like he was climbing a ladder. His hand leapt from side to side, taking her aback every time he moved. Throughout all this, she cackled, scream, and kicked her legs furiously. Outmatched in strength, there wasn’t much else she could do.

He didn’t stop until she was red-faced and could barely form words. Her cheeks were flushed with pink warmth, and her smile… god, that smile. It was different from the evil grin she had when she was bullying Saihara in the hallways, or fighting Harukawa during passing time, or shoving Ouma into his locker...

It was genuine. And it was so, so lovely.

(Why was he so enchanted by it?)

“Bam… you’re dead.”

She held up her right hand in the shape of a gun and pressed it into his chest.

Ah, fuck. If he’d been competing… that would’ve been the end.

Momota scrambled to get to his feet. He brushed himself off, turning his back to her so she wouldn’t notice the blush forming on his own cheeks.

This took way too long.

By  横野しま

Kaito: Kaede wants to look pretty.

Child: But she's already pretty.

Kaito: Aww.

Child: Dad, you should wear makeup.