#springslain

Kokichi Oma had only attended this prestigious school because he had been chosen as the Ultimate Supreme Leader. A to-be-dictator. A complete and total authority. A leader, yes, but with unlimited power. His title would put him in the same category as Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini. Oh, wasn't that something? He'd tried so hard to be evil, and here he was, actually succeeding. After all, if anyone was evil... it was this type of person.

The sheets were so comfortable. Soft. Warm. He didn't get simple comforts like this very often before, and now he had them every day. Wasn't it great? Wasn't it amazing to have everyone hate him and to still be praised for it? Oma's classmates ate up his lies until they weren't lies anymore. He spent every day transforming into a despicable existence. And at the end of it, he could retire to his spacious room and cushy bed just like the rest of them.

He continued restlessly scratching and pulling at the soft linens. It was like Oma was searching for something, some hidden extra comfort, or maybe a hidden extra meaning. Oma would recall the taste of Momota's blood and how confused he'd been in the following weeks. He recalled the murder, an attempt to prove he was what he wanted to be. He recalled countless arguments with Momota- his archenemy- that seemed to always give different answers. He recalled the people he helped- Karakuri stood out most recently- when nobody else would.

He recalled friends who never saw him as their friend, like Harukawa. He recalled friends who he hadn't realized were his friends until they'd said so, like Saihara. He recalled being told he had nobody, recalled being told that everyone at the academy actually liked him. What was one supposed to think? How could one ever parse the truth from a world of lies? Oma never cared for the truth much, but he at least wanted clarity about himself.