Chapter Text
The doors shut, ferris wheel lifting off, sunset shafted gold through the glass, and Kokichi Ouma sat opposite him with a cutesy pale stare. He nervously looked down - Shuichi hated heights - and the ground retreated, no-one was waving. He looked back into that violet void and wanted to laugh.
How did it get to this point?
Well, the same way all insane things happen, you do something unusual, then the odd thing that leads on from that, until you're so far diverged from the norm looking back makes you queasy.
Was he being too dramatic? Was he bringing a tad too much melodrama into a three mile an hour theme park ride? Um, no. Heights are just that fucking frightening, and he had a devious little freak opposite him to make everything more scary, and that freak was kicking his legs like a fucking eight year old, with a curt smile of trying to hold back laughter.
"Don't you ever get tired of this stuff?" -he'd blurted something out, first mistake.
"Ehhh? Saihara-chan, if you mean the ferris wheel, I'll never stop loving fun, and if you mean being with you then..you're my beloved, so of course not," he smiled shyly,
"Neither of those. Like..you dragged me on here with you, then turned your tears on like clockwork, isn't it tiring to put on acts like that?"
Ouma's eyes narrowed a little, what was he thinking. "Oh right, I mean if you're curious about little ol' me I guess I can oblige, I'm a sweetheart after all."
"Mhm."
"It's like..if I'm working towards something, I don't have any problem putting the work in, y’know?"
"That's rather respectable."
"I know riiight~" he grinned, showing his sharp bright teeth, the ground was long gone and the sun got in his eyes, though Ouma just looked illuminated.
"Hah..that's how I know it's a lie."
His mouth dropped open a little, with a flash of something pointed and genuine, "Well jeez, ya got me, as in, ya'r real sassy today, arntcha."
What's with that affect. He let himself think for a moment, wanting to retain his grip on the situation, Ouma gifted as he was at derailing things. "You know I hate heights."
"I mean, I suppose I know now. I totally hate heights too, they're like poison to me, I'm like about to vomit right now honestly." He actually did look a little nervous, knuckles straining as he gripped onto the seat.
"Are you now."
"Well assuming I'm a liar just isn't nice."The dust glittered.
"Maybe you shouldn't lie all the time if you don't want people to think you are one."
"Gosh, how patronising, and like..you don't get it at all, the marriage is breaking down soon at this rate."
"Hah..I don't think the construction was finished in the first place."
"Oh my, how alluringly articulate, Ultimate Detective-sama, but here's the thing:" he crossed his arms, leaning forward. "The Ultimate Supreme Leader is the liar, not Kokichi Ouma, get it?"
"Oh? And how should I tell the difference, Ouma-san?"
"Uhhh..I don't know. Are mysteries any fun at all when you're given all the answers? No."
"So this is still all about fun and mysteries."
"Yup, that's who you're dealing with."
"Is it against the rules to ask who I'm talking to right now?"
"Ah jeez, so earnest it hurts, just what I'd expect from Saihara-chan." He sighed, shrugging operatically. "Look, between the two halves I'm splitting myself into for the sake of explanation which - may I remind you - is oh so generous of me, one is a liar."
"So it's a two guards type situation."
"Exactly." He let the silence hang for a moment, before dragging out more noise, they were almost halfway. "And that's why I never get bored of doing this stuff."
"I..don't quite get it."
"Nii shii shii, again, it totally wouldn't be fun if you did, but.." he turned to look out the window, Shuichi matching the change; beyond the thick dirty glass were the attractions and distant cityscape lit grey gold-edged by the melting sun. Everything down there was still so noisy, and it made this place all the more musty and quiet. Now Shuichi was the one wanting to drag the noise out.
As a rule, theme parks weren't his thing. They were noisy, scary, and filled with queues and expensive souvenirs. It was a rather laughable viewpoint for someone his age, especially alongside everything else about him that faded out when faced with that kind of plastic vivacity, but he supposed that admission in itself was a kind of complex. I mean, what point was he even trying to make?
That distaste and aversion was in conflict with what his friends had wanted to do that day, so he'd decided to push himself, and now he was here. Ouma had dragged him off to buy snacks, that sweet and savoury heart disease inducing cacophony he just devoured, then they'd gone to the mirror hall, a haze of self reflection if you were feeling metaphorical, and they'd ended up here, on a ride that brought a familiar stomach wringing fear to his digestive system. It was ridiculous, a total punchline to his pushover lifestyle.
"Heyyyy Saihara-chan.." Ouma waved his hand in front of the view, half-smiling when he got his attention, "You were pretty much zoning out, but we're at the peak now." He'd leaned pretty close.
Saihara looked, and there it was, the fruit of his fear. The view hadn't changed, just gotten further away and turned into a fake miniature version of itself, aside from the sunset that felt so close it burned his retinas.
"Ah..so we are."
For a moment, everything was content.
"Honestly you're pretty stupid for being so scared of the sky~"
"I'm just scared of being away from the ground, Ouma-san."
"You should call me Kokichi, it feels so stiff and formal with my last name.."
"Okay."
"And see..regardless of who you're talking to right now, you still made it." Ou- oh, Kokichi was acting weird, as in, he was definitely playing some game or some lie, but vaguer than usual, like Shuichi couldn't trace the intent at all.
"Don't try and make this into something poetic, phobias are just phobias." Either way, it wasn't like him to push for an answer, so he didn't.
"So totally blunt."
"That's me, I guess."
"Nope, you're completely bullying me right now…oh jeez, I might.." those predictable shining tears welling up in a waterfall and masking the subtleties of his irises as he falsely wept.
"Ah, emotional manipulation is also considered bullying."
"This is an abusive marriage!" He hurriedly wiped his face on his scarf (that thing must be filthy) "We gotta believe the victim, and obviously the victim is always the one crying soo…I expect one billion yen in emotional damage fees." He played with his nails all faux-casual.
"Denied. As a detective, I know the evidence obviously falls in my favour."
"What're the evidencies, Saihara-chan??"
The evidence is mostly made up of witness testimonies, from everyone who's ever spoken with you!"
"Whaaaaat? That's so mean!" He laughed, was there an intent behind it? He snapped back to composure, searchlight glare, "Geh- Did you deploy laughing gas or something, freak?"
"Uh..that's something only a super villain would do."
"You literally just outed yourself just now..what's your villain name, then, I won't tell anyone.." Ouma glanced around nervously, searching for spies. The ground was coming back into view, time was almost up,
"My villain name?" He smiled, "Why, I'm the Joker!"
"Thief!"
—
Perhaps it revealed more about him than them, but he didn’t really remember the faces of his friends. He could see them if he tried, but that visualization was half in shadow, empty residue making an inky sea, and a weight he’d rather let run off his skin than be submerged in. When he stood washed clean, free of darkness or the oppressive stench of rot, there was only the moon above and the ocean below. There are no stars.
He felt no sand or solid surface beneath him yet he stood with the black up to his knees, and the ice cold was definitely real, and if he trailed his fingers through they were slowed by the dark with a spreading ripple. Stretching into the distance the moonlight vaguely melted into the black, lighting it up, reaching out to it shattered it all up but it didn’t cut.
Was he like Jesus or something? Standing on water had to be some kind of miracle, but maybe it was just too dense to take him into it, or maybe something invisibly supported him, and that’s when he realised:
It was just an average dream.
—
It was one of those mornings where the sun trickled through the clouds in a tepid milky yellow, like an egg yolk mixed up with the white flesh of its womb. Saihara was resigned to this, so he didn't particularly notice how grey everything was looking. The streets were empty on his way to school along the back roads, and a stranger smiled at him. He smiled back.
That kindly interaction was still pencilled in silver-grey, and would be remembered as such. He was pondering this very thing during his morning break, gazing upon the bending browning trees beneath that unchanging sky through the glass, tapping out a rhythm on the wood of his desk, watching his fingers make a toneless noise.
Vibrant and technicolour and making Shuichi think of balloons, the bag of sweets fell into his view, cheap and ephemeral against the slightly scratched wood, he looked up.
“You like these, right?” Ouma had a perfect poker face, refined over the millennia,
“Nope.” They were Ouma’s, though. He was supposed to call him Kokichi now.
“Eh? Seriously??” He let his mouth drop open in shock, “but that’s…like..no way. Oh! I get it, you’re lying.” He grinned.
“I’m not, what are you trying to do..” he wanted to collapse onto the desk and close his eyes with what little strength he had left, but the sweets were there. His uncle had banned him from caffeine after he found out he’d been getting through two cans of Monster Ultra Rosa a day, and the withdrawal had him not dragging himself out of bed until he was an hour late. It was a rather pitiful type of parenting, but who was he to complain?
“Well jeez, someone’s in a bad mood..” Ou-Kokichi gripped the two sides of the desk, leaning slightly forward as he rolled on his heels, and Shuichi would’ve moved away if his soul wasn’t sapping into the floor. In that moment of quiet, he thought he detected a kind of calm, but looking at Kokichi the normal foreboding returned. “Being a detective and a liar is a rather nasty combination, not too Ultimate at all.”
“So what makes someone an Ultimate to you then?”
“Hm? Well I’d say being honest is the first thing..I hate liars.”
“So then, what about the Ultimate Liar.”
“If they’re honest about being the Ultimate Liar, then all their lies post that act are a-ok by default, nii shii shii~” that odd little giggle never stopped squicking Shuichi out.
“But would they really be an Ultimate Liar if they were honest about important things like that?”
“Yep! I’ll even prostrate myself if it’ll prove my earnesty...”
“That wouldn’t prove anything..I don’t think you have enough pride for that action to have any weight, honestly.”
“Whaaaaat?” Kokichi made a tight-mouthed crescent smile, and static fell out his mouth, “you really have been getting cruel lately~” and this box of a room was a show broadcast to no-one.
“Ah, um..sorry.” That muttering air disturbance tainted things.
“Now that’s the nervous Saihara I’m used to~” There was that telltale sign of his knuckles whitening around the wood, and without thinking he put his hands over Kokichi’s - truly, he was light-headed and empty-minded from exhaustion, so none of this was his responsibility - and felt that cool tension. Kokichi didn’t move away or say anything, and Shuichi didn’t look up at him.
“Don’t apologize,” Kokichi hissed, static filling Shuichi’s mind as the tension slid out from under him and that pale form dashed out the exit, like a hunted deer.
Shuichi wished he had a brighter headlight.
The sweets tasted pretty good, especially the lemon ones, saccharine and zesty in a way that spread to all corners of his mouth. A decent catch. all things considered.
—
On the topic of colour, it should be considered more in terms of presence and absence than variance in tone: tonal differences are only differences in reflection and absorption of light - an identity you can't touch.
Kokichi was always pushing this principle in various ways, despite the monochrome of the ragged costume he'd worn on the first day of the first year, and the dark violet pools of his eyes dragging Shuichi in with their magnitude, and how those things had seemed so absolute. There'd always been a sense of something else, a kind of stark light seeping through the cracks, akin to a lightbulb with a dying battery, having become so faint as to be a distinct existence in theory alone; but Shuichi was resolute about it.
And that violet…he always loathed looking people in the eyes. Perhaps it was a natural proclivity brought out by that event, or alternatively, something that had tied his heart up with a string woven from the guilt of contempt. It was a nice thing to get lost in, the sense of solving a mystery where there wasn't one, but also rather vexing. Could he tie the string around someone else's finger and forge a fate with the red dye of his blood? Make an ugly noose? Well, he'd have to cut open his chest to find out if it even existed, and that was a dull game.
Violet eyes and copper string and white flesh and the past, all twisted up together into a knotted pounding viscera that never quite died, dragging him towards a thing bathed in shadow he couldn't see.
Are you watching?
Credits roll.
—
He held their first meeting in the depths of his mind, that is, he wanted to make sure he'd never let it go, so he clung onto it where it couldn't escape, flighty and unpredictable as Kokichi Ouma always was.
It had been a bright day, maybe, at the very least there'd been no rain or other obvious disturbance to his perceived tranquillity, and his backpack had weighed him down. Ouma had walked up next to him and started talking about a disaster he'd heard about on the news, all death counts and acrid smoke, and the awkwardness and strangeness of that shift in environment had quickly faded to something like acceptance.
"Do you often watch the news?"
"Hm?" Ouma looked at him, glittering like the sunset over water, "Never." and that light grin with the weight of a million tons.
"Ah so..how did you.."
"Damn it! Saihara-chan, you caught me.." he started gnawing on his thumbnail, in a display of nervousness more like a caricature than an expression. And Saihara-chan???
"But, why. Either way, if you're going to make something up, why something so gruesome and disconnected from yourself, and why admit it?"
"Nii shii shii, I'm pretty sure I was in a plane crash once though."
"Eh?" He somehow felt foolish for responding so honestly.
"Well, I woke up after losing consciousness from my injuries, so I guess it was just a dream, but.." like a ribbon lost in the breeze, too thin and wavering to capture. "Well, I pretty much see the future in my dreams, like one time I got a million yen in the lottery after seeing the wining number while in REM sleep, that was totally crazy~"
"That's.."
“Look I'll prove my wealth, hold out your hand.” He did so. Ouma opened his fist over Shuichi's palm - fingers brushing against it - and moved it away with a flourish kind of like a jazz hand, leaving a red plastic coin-sized disc printed with the face of a clown.
Shuichi just silently looked at it for a few seconds, trying to grasp the thread of the punchline.
"Soo.." Shuichi looked up, and Ouma's expression was quirked up on the left, like he was trying not to laugh, "In Britain, they print the face of the queen- oh, guess it's a king now, on their money, so I'm bringing that spirit to our beautiful Japan by making coins with the face of our emperor.~"
"You're calling our beloved emperor Naruhito a clown??" Disgusting.
"S-sorry, I didn't know you were a monarchist I'll…give you more money as an apology.." his lip quivered and his voice had gone so quiet it was hard to make out the vague words,
"Uh..are you okay? There's no need to, cry.." he felt so guilty he might as well throw up all over the pavement,
"God, you suck at comforting people."
"Sorry.." Wait, why was he apologising?
"Don't worry about it I'll forgive you if you pay me one coin oh look you've got one right there I'll take that if you don't mind.." and he grabbed it and put it back in his pocket.
"Huh?"
Ouma looked totally content, and the tears and concern drained from his face to leave a perfect calm smile, he started humming and he stepped so jauntily it was close to skipping. Shuichi had to speed walk to keep up.
"But y'know, you should be more protective of your money. Me and my organisation are the only ones who use it, but we have pretty much the best wares available.."
"Like what..wait, don't force me into your economic system!!"
"Seriously though, it's only a small donation, and the money'll eventually trickle down from the top like sweet nectar to a honey bee.." moving his hand down and waving his finger side to side as he said the last part, eyes widened a little in earnest in a perfect image of sincerity,
"That's a pyramid scheme."
"No it isn't."
"Yes it is, stop trying to convince me."
"The wealth'll trickle down, like I said...c'mon, you can trust me, right? I would never lie to you.." His eyes looked so kindly, with laughter beneath the shell.
“You already lied about the death of your parents.”
"That's…whatever." His face fell to blank obscurity. "Guess I should've known not to try and fool you." He seemed to think for a second, "Look, take this and don't tell anyone what I'm trying to do here." It was the coin, Saihara took it. "Hah..guess you aren't immune to bribery."
"..I suppose so."
Actually, the thing he was vulnerable to was light, like a moth in the night.
There probably wasn't anything particularly important about that conversation, aside from its nature as a beginning, but he still twisted it around his finger, strangling his veins and leaving a mark when he let go.
I saw it in a dream, so it might as well be real. He wondered if he could say the same about Kokichi, if what he saw was real because it was real to him, if it was more than a shallow fabrication made to explain the odd satisfaction he'd been feeling recently.
—
When he'd gotten home from the theme park it'd been dark, street-lights like damp suns, and his uncle had still been locked up in his office like a prisoner held by conviction alone. Nothing but a crime of passion, I promise.
The newspaper sudoku lay unfinished on the fine oak dining table, so he took it to his room, legs crossed on his neat sheets, and solved it as best he could. The biro was running out of ink, and kept coming out all streaky, but he filled in the grid in the end. Trouble was, apparently the computer code had glitched or something, because there'd been a mistake in its creation making it impossible to solve, and he was left with a complete broken image and no imagination to fix it.
He ended up flicking through the articles. There was the topic of the minute infesting every corner, some vague centrist political reporting, and something boring about an animal some family had found and been poisoned by and- oh look, a gift voucher printed on the same thin paper as the rest of it. Well, he wasn't planning to go to that place any time soon, so he didn't deface the paper.
He put it back downstairs, where he'd found it to the angle, and light still spilled out from under his uncle's door. As far as he could tell from the dark clock hands blurring into grey, it was one in the morning.
Somewhere in the back of his mind the sunset glittered, but in the city there are no stars, and his bed was empty.
—
He swirled the tea with his spoon, opaque and brown-grey, watching the slight discrepancies in tone merge and twist, and the steam curling into the air. He suppressed a shiver, something was unnerving him. Well, either way, it was time for school, so he took a quick sip and - ignoring the slight burn spreading across his tongue - bid goodbye to his uncle, who peeked out from behind the broadsheet with a nod of his harsh white eyebrows and small dark eyes.
"Why don't you live with your parents?" Shuichi blinked, taking in the concrete school roof and feeling like he'd just been somewhere else.
He tried to get his bearings. Ouma looked inquisitive, with a cute expression that was the closest he got to earnest, but he was too disorientated to appreciate it more, "I..well, I lost them in a plane crash."
"Is that right." It was more like an assertion than a question, cross-legged and crossed arms.
"Well, one time I had a dream like that, a really lucid and detailed one, so even though I was fine when I woke up, I can't help but feel it was the truth."
"How interesting…" and that simplicity was still present, like he was offering something. What was it?
"It makes me wonder, what are your parents like?"
"Nii shii shii, dead as a doorknob, I killed them in totes cold blood."
"And by that you mean…"
"Gosh, you want all the tasty details? Didn't take you for that kind of guy.." He had the gall to look seriously affronted.
"That's, not what I meant."
"I'm not too sure what you do mean, 'cause I'm completely telling the truth right now, y' know?"
"Haa..of course." Shuichi laughed a little. "I don't mean it in a demanding way, you don't need to tell me anything you don't want to.."
And those cracks seemed to deepen: the dark had lost its floor. There was something lost in Ouma's expression, and that vulnerability was the consequence of making such an allowance before, such an offer unsuited to someone like him.
"And what makes you think I am?"
—
Kokichi was waiting for him at the school gates, swinging on the balls of his feet - his most obvious tell. "Heyyy Saihara-chan, how were the sweets?"
Shuichi waved, in his awkward way, as he came up to him, "They were nice."
"Ooh, such high praise from you, I might just cry…only I don't actually care, I just left them by accident."
"Ah..sorry."
"Hm? Prostrate yourself before me and slit your stomach if you want me to forgive you~" he grinned, like a slash on his face.
"I don't think you've ever offered to do something so extreme yourself, so.." he put his hands in his blazer pockets, and they started walking.
"Well duh. I'm the Ultimate Supreme Leader, and I've never done anything wrong.."
Shuichi opted to blank him.
"I'll take your silence as an admission." They looked at the street ahead, dyed by the falling sun. "My hands are cold."
"I don't have any gloves I can give you uh..yeah, I don't really know how to help with that." Kokichi's hands were always icy, actually, but he supposed people who ran cold got used to it.
"You're always warm, y'know.."
"I..am." He spoke hesitantly, but without precision; somehow he felt overwhelmed.
"So there's a pretty easy way to help."
"Hah..I'm not a heater, sorry."
"So that’s a no?"
"To what?"
"Oh man..you're a complete genius, has anyone ever told you that before?"
"Just tell me what you want already.."
He heard Kokichi suck the air in through his teeth, and as the tension of that moment ebbed, all those vague sounds of afternoon filled in the gaps. Then, a sharp intake of breath, and something muttered he didn't hear.
"Take your left hand out of your pocket." The hand on Kokichi’s side. He did what was asked of him without really thinking, looking over.
"Uh, why?" For a moment Kokichi stared at him like he'd forgotten what to say, then he felt an icy grip clamp around his freed hand.
He mused for a moment, "I wasn't expecting that." Despite the cold, he felt something warm about it, sparking up just out of view, and some part of him realised that if he looked any closer and let it into the corner of his eye he’d be blinded.
Kokichi didn't say anything.
"I mean I don't have a problem with it, I'm just surprised."
"Of course you are." Kokichi didn't look at him. "But my hands were freezing off my arm, so I'm using you to fix that issue."
"And it's never been an ‘issue’ before?"
"No." The answer was sharp, curt, and empty, and Saihara felt like he'd missed the whole point.