Shuichi x Kokichi One-Shots!

made you up

BRUH IM HYPPEPEEEE IM TAKING GUITAR LESSONS

                                            Made You Up Part One, Chapter Two: The Tank

The first thing I noticed about Hope's Peak High School was that it didn't have a bike rack. You know a school is run by stuck-up sons of bitches when it doesn't have a bike rack.

I shoved Erwin behind the blocky green shrubs lining the school's front walk and stepped back to make sure the tires and handlebars we're hidden. I didn't expect anyone to steal, touch, or notice him, since his rusty diarrhea color made people subconsciously avert their eyes, but I felt better knowing he's out of harms way.

I checked my bag. Book, folders, notebooks, pens, and pencils. My cheap digital camera— one of the first things I'd bought when I'd gotten the job at Makoto's— dangled from it strap around my wrist. I'd already taken a picture of four suspicious-looking squirrels lined up on the red brick wall outside my neighbor's house this morning, but other than that, the memory card was empty.

Then I did my perimeter check. Perimeter checks entailed of three things: getting a 360-degree view of my surroundings, noting anything that seemed out if place— like the huge scorched spiral design covering the the surface of the parking lot— and filing those things away in case they tried to sneak up on me later.

Kids funneled from their cars to the school, ignoring the men in black suits and red ties who stood at even intervals along the school's roof. I should've known public school would have some weird security. We just had normal security officers in my former private school.

I joined the procession of students— keeping an arm's length between myself and the rest of them, because God knows who was bringing weapons to school these days— all the way to the guidance office, where I stood in line for four minutes to get my schedule. While I was there, I took a bunch of college brochures out of the stand in the corner and stuffed them in my backpack, ignoring the weird stares I got from the kid in front of me. I didn't take crap when it came to college— I had to get in, no matter how early I had to start or how many applications I had to send. If I was lucky, I could guilt-trip some scholarships out of a school or two, the way my parents had done with my last school. It didn't matter how I did it; either I got in or I worked at Makoto's for the rest of my life.

I realized everyone around me was wearing a uniform. Black pants, white button-down shirts, green ties. Gotta love the smell of institutional equality in the morning.

My locker was near the cafeteria. Only one other person was there, his locker right next to mine.

Shuichi.

Memories of Yellow Eyes hit me rapid-fire, and I had to turn full circle to make sure my surroundings we're normal. As I inched closer, I peered into his locker. Nothing unusual. I took a breath.

Be polite, Ouma. Be polite. He won't kill you because of some water. He's not a hallucination. Be polite.

"Um, hi," I said, stepping up to my locker.

Shuichi turned, saw me, and jumped so badly his locker door banged against the one next to it and he almost tripped over his backpack on the floor. His glare burned a hole through my head.

"Sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to scare you."

When he didn't reply, I focused on my locker combination. I glanced at him as I tossed my books into my locker. His expression hadn't changed.

"I, uh, I'm really sorry about the water." I held out my hand against my better judgement. My mother always said to be polite, no matter what. Even when the other person might have a knife concealed up his sleeve. "I'm Kokichi Ouma."

He quirked an eyebrow. The expression was so sudden, so perfect, and so obviously right that I almost laughed.

Slowly, so it looked like he thought he might burn himself by touching me, Shuichi reached out to shake my hand. His fingers were long and thin. Spidery, but strong.

"Shuichi Saihara," he replied.

"Okay, cool." We released our groups at the same time, hands shooting down to our sides. "Glad we got that one out of the way. See you later, then."

Go go go get away get away.

I walked away as quickly as I could. Had I just come into contact with Yellow Eyes again after ten years? Oh God. Okay.

It wouldn't be that bad if he was real, would it? Just because my mother didn't mention him didn't mean he wasn't real. But what if he was an asshole?

Screw you, brain.

It wasn't until I got to the stairs that I realized I was being followed. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I grabbed for my camera as I spun around.

Shuichi stood behind me.

"Are doing this on purpose?" I asked.

"Doing what on purpose?" he replied.

"Walking a few steps behind me, close enough so I realize you're there but not so close you look creepy doing it. And staring."

He blinked a few times. "No."

"It sure feels like you are."

"Maybe you're paranoid."

I stiffened.

He rolled his eyes. "Hagakure?" He asked.

Mr. Hagakure, AP English, first period. "Yes," I said.

Shuichi pulled out a paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it out. His schedule. There, at the top of the page, was his name: Saihara, Shuichi. His first period was AP English 12, Hagakure.

"Fine," I said. "But you don't have to be such a creeper about it." I turned and stalked the rest of the way up the stairs.

"Sucks being new, doesn't it?" Shuichi appeared beside me, a weird edge lacing his voice. Shivers worked their way up my arms.

"It's not so bad," I said through a clenched jaw.

"Either way," he said, "I think you have an alienable right to know that dyeing your hair is against dress code."

"It's not dyed," I snapped.

"Sure." Shuichi quirked the eyebrow again. "Sure it's not."

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Yeah this is shorter than the rest of them but just know sum good shit coming up next so..—

Thanks for reading, enjoy!! 'Kay, I'll go bye bye now-

also i've been gone???? for so long???? i haven't told you guys but.. i thought of quiting writing and yeah.

i still don't know where i stand on this so, i'm not sure if i'm quitting or not.