Kokichi Meets His Parents (2)

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    Kokichi walked hesitantly up to the door. He hovered his finger over the doorbell, pausing for a few seconds before deciding to push it. He took a deep breath. No turning back. Finally, he rang the doorbell and waited a few moments for someone to answer. On the outside, he appeared calm, cool, and collected. But, on the inside, however, he felt his stomach knotting up, and everything else twisting and turning. He was half hoping that nobody would answer. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. Next to the door was a window with a curtain on the inside. Kokichi noticed it briefly flicker, and realized that someone was, indeed, home. He heard the floorboards creaking from behind the door, but nobody opened it. Kokichi waited a few more seconds before ringing the doorbell again. A few seconds later, he heard the distant, angry shouting of a man. 


   "Get away from the door, bitch!" the voice said. Kokichi stiffened. At first, he thought the man was talking about him until he heard the creaking right behind the door again underneath fast footsteps. He guessed that whoever he heard behind the door the first time had been standing there. Were they watching him through the peephole? Suddenly, he heard more creaking behind the door, stronger creaking than before with heavier footsteps. It must have been the man, who didn't sound happy. Kokichi prepared himself. The door swung open to reveal a lanky, ill-tempered-looking man, slightly taller than Kokichi, with short, unkempt, dark purple hair and violet eyes that burned with animosity. He was wearing a T-shirt and dirty jeans. Kokichi couldn't believe he was looking at his own father, who was, undoubtedly, a monster.


   "Tuh...who the hell are you?" he asked rudely. Kokichi decided to forego telling his father who he really was, just to be on the safe side. He put on a more aloof facade, and stuck his hands in his pockets. 


   "I'm Asuka Kuweshitan, a student at Hope's Peak Academy," he lied. "I'm the Ultimate Journalist."


   "Yeah? So, what?" Kokichi's father scoffed. 


    "One of my assignments is to choose a neighborhood and ask the residents some questions about their experiences living there," Kokichi answered, his lies flowing smoothly from his lips. He calmly leaned against the porch wall. "I grew up around here and I thought I'd...go around at random asking people what their life is like here, or whatever." Mr. Ouma eyed him suspiciously. 


   "You're a journalist, huh?" he asked in a gruff voice. 


   "That's right," Kokichi replied with a charismatic smile. 


    "Where's your little journalist pencil and notebook?" Mr. Ouma asked. 


   "Pfft...I don't need that shit," Kokichi scoffed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I got a brain. That's my notebook." Kokichi noticed that his father's expression became less hostile. 


   "What about that suit? Why're you all dressed up?" Mr. Ouma pressed.


   "Well, I'm not gonna get answers wearing my usual clothes," Kokichi replied instantly. "People respond better to kids who appear decent and well-behaved, y'know?" He raised his eyebrow and continued to smile. Mr. Ouma eased up and sighed. 


   "You'd better not be here to cause trouble," he growled. "I don't need problems cuz of some punk-ass kid." Kokichi smiled and shrugged politely. 

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