Murphy's law states that if something can go wrong, it will go wrong. And to any optimists, this may seem like a rather negative worldview to hold. But for someone who's only 13, Kiyoshi's actually pretty well acquainted with the world... and he knows within the deepest recesses of his soul that, if for no-one else, Murphy's law at least applies to him.
He was born one month prematurely, and to a family that wouldn't be around for most of his major milestones. At age 3, he received Taro: a silky white Samoyed for a birthday gift, and approximately one month later Taro just about bit his hand off for one too many curious tuggings of his tail. At age 4, to his complete and utter surprise, he was the most popular kid in his kindergarten class.
"You know how to work with people," his mom had said cheekily. "You must have gotten it from me."
But by age five, they had gotten bored of him. And in a flash, most of what his mom had addressed as his 'groupies' had vanished.
The rest of his life has been much the same. Through Elementary school, and up until the start of Junior High, he's always felt like happiness has been held ever so slightly from his reach. Like he's a mouse on a wheel... running in circles, never once realizing he's as far from his destination as he started.
Dad missed his elementary school graduation, and he'd never really kept a consistent friend group in grades one through six. He was born with a 'genuinely troubling' genetic disposition towards anxiety, and a life that only seemed to amplify it. Not once - Not twice - But thrice he's knocked out shiny Pokemon, and it seems like every time he starts to get attached to a jacket or pair of jeans, he inevitably tears a hole in them.
His mother's overseas risking her life, and more often than not the door hits him on the way out. Yes, in both major and minor aspects, Kiyoshi's luck is fucking terrible.
But this… this is a new low!
He'd really started to believe things were finally going to be okay.
He knows that's his fault. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He knows better than that by now. But Fumiko… Makoto… they'd made him dream. They'd made him laugh. Had it really been so bad to just believe for one second?
( 'Yes,' he thinks, and he knows it without a doubt... feels bile rise in his throat. 'Had you seriously thought the three of you could be happy together?' )
Fighting the urge to throw up, he attempts to focus on wiggling his fingers. He can't think about it... what he'd seen. What he'd done . (No. Nononono.) He's locked deep in the clutches of sleep paralysis. He's not in his right mind. Shadows dance in the corner of his eye. If he throws up now, he might just very well suffocate himself.
(...Maybe he deserves it.)
'What was that?' he asks himself, only to be met with. 'No. Not now. Anytime but now. You know you can't do this now.' He can't panic. He can't freak out. He can't think. He can't face it. He won't face it.
'Don't act like you don't already know.'
No. Nonononono. Shut up. Shut up. Just breathe. He can breathe, can't he? What is it his mother had taught him? When he'd first started having these episodes? Just wiggle your fingers... focus on something small. You'll wake before you know it.
He can't. They won't. They won't move. No matter what he does. Why!? Why won't they move!?
His breathing quickens. He knows that goes against everything she taught him, but does that really matter anymore? With what he's seen?
'You don't know that it meant anything,' he thinks.
'Yes. You do. And you've always known.'
No! He hasn't! Shut up!
'Then why have you always agreed you deserve to suffer!?'
The shadows are creeping closer. Growing tendrils and eyes. But those aren't what scare him. Not really. Even as his heart races and his fingers lay still... what really scares him is the way he swears he catches the ghost of a familiar smile.
A familiar face. A familiar laugh. A comforting presence. Where has it gone!?
A weight on his chest. A burning in his eyes. A maniacal laugh, and it's not his own. He feels something gently press against the back of his hand. But suddenly, the warmth isn't so comforting.
"What? Are you scared, Kiyoshi?"
...He's always been, hasn't he!? Of Korosensei?! Of Makoto?! Of the sleep paralysis demon stalking the corners of his childhood bedroom and the sound of that low, deadly laugh? Makoto slams his palm on Kiyoshi's desk and says 'we're gonna be partners now,' but Kiyoshi looks straight past him. Sees what lurks beneath.
'I'm Korosensei,' he says one day over ramen. And Kiyoshi rolls his eyes. His parents' coworker? (The beast?) This little boy? It's just not likely. It's just not possible. A delusion. That's all.
That's what he tells himself.
Makoto brings his hands together during the sports festival. And an ear-shattering clap rings out. Kiyoshi stares, eyes wide and posture stiff. And he finds it that he can't move then, either. That's the first time he realizes what Makoto's capable of.
That's the first time he's SCARED of him.
...When had been the second?
He can't remember. He's lightheaded. He feels unwell. And he just wants to move. Please! Just let him move!
Another soft laugh.
He can't breathe. He can't breathe. He can't breathe. Heart monitors are beeping and the ceiling is a plain white and he can't breathe. The monster creeps closer, and a claustrophobic feeling sets in. Kiyoshi wants to claw at the bedsheet. At his eyelids. At his chest. But he can't. He doesn't. He can't breathe.
The moon unit. It had been the moon unit. Nagisa had shared what Korosensei had done, and Kiyoshi had felt empty. A kill count... of thousands. Makoto couldn't really be capable of that, could he?
(The building collapses, and the victims shriek. Her body lays lifeless, and he feels the worst pain he's ever felt before his vision goes to black.)
Oh. He could. He most certainly could. And Kiyoshi had known it. Even back then. He'd glanced at Makoto... at his classmates... At Fumiko... And wondered how no-one had seen what he'd seen.
(Because he'd been WRONG!)
...Seen the danger lurking behind that boy's smile.
"I'll protect you," Makoto had said, laying right beside him in this same bed. "From the demons, I mean. 'Cuz we're friends now."
Kiyoshi wishes he could say Makoto was nowhere to be seen right now.
But he is. Oh… but he is.
The beast creeps closer. Brushes a finger mockingly past his cheek.
"I could do it all again, you know," it hisses, it's voice a foul snicker. "I could kill you. I could maim you. I could take it all from you. And you know what the best part is?" It slinks closer, crouching menacingly beside his sleeping form. "You'd finally know you deserve it."
Kiyoshi's blood runs cold. His breath hitches and his heart pounds and the creature grins. It's jagged teeth glint in the light of the moon. Its eyes glow bright. And he can't make it out. He can't make it out. Whose face is that? Looking at him? The man in the lab all those years ago, muscle writhing under his skin...? The creature, face distorted pitch black with rage, and veins throbbing with its heartbeat? Or his best friend, looking at him with teary eyes and begging to just feel safe.
'I don't know,' Kiyoshi thinks, choking back a sob. 'I don't know!'
Maybe it doesn't matter. Who he's looking at. They're all one and the same, aren't they? The terrifying beast and the boy who hides his weakness? The man who looks at him with those dead eyes, as if challenging him to 'do his worst,' and his companion, who dared to ask of him "Are you afraid of me?"
(Yes. The answer is a resounding yes.)
Because they all grin. They all smile. And it never once falters. Behind that toothy expression lies a psyche wracked with pain. Wartorn worlds and human experimentation. Lost loves and assassinations and unfair goodbyes. Angry fathers and repressed memories. The question of 'will I ever be what I once was?' swirling in mind like a goddamn tornado. But you'd never know. Not with that smile. Not unless you looked ever so carefully, and watched the cracks splinter out from his alibi like veins marred bright red.
"It's… it's like I was back there again," he sobs, rocking back and forth on the grass outside the school. His face is contorted into a grimace, and his arms are scratched raw. "That… I was that person. And that there was nothing I could do to save myself-"
Steel restraints round his wrists, neck, and ankles. When his hands start to writhe, they lock those up, too.
"Like I was being destroyed from the inside out-"
The Reaper had never cried. Makoto does. He sobs into his hands and wipes his runny nose on his elbow. Kiyoshi wonders what the Reaper had felt. Kiyoshi wonders if he'd wanted to cry, too.
"What if… what if that guy comes looking for me?" Makoto asks, his voice a breathless whisper.
"No," Fumiko says, like she knows anything at all.
"He loved doing that to me! He loved hurting me! What if… what if he hunts me down? What if he finds me? What if he wants to make me pay?" He stops for a moment to incoherently weep, unable to catch his breath at the mere thought of it. "What if he's right? What if I deserve it? What if I'm always supposed to feel that way because I enjoyed hurting people, too?"
Kiyoshi stares, eyes wide, and mouth agape. The Reaper tears apart dozens of bodies and lives on March 13th, 2014, and Kiyoshi leans in close, fist clenched and expression stern.
"You don't. I just know you don't. You're a good person, Makoto,"
Maybe he doesn't know anything, either.
"I'll protect you. I promise."
He tells Makoto to listen to the birds. To feel the grass between his fingers, then look at his face. "We weren't back there, were we?" he asks. "In the lab. We weren't with you."
She laughs at the test subject again and his blood boils. He pounds his fist against the glass and smacks her face. Hard.
"No," Makoto says with half a laugh. "...You guys weren't born yet."
"How could you trick me like that?" t he beast asks, a snide, fake sadness to its tone. "How could you lie to me, Kiyoshi?"
"I didn't know," Kiyoshi wants to whimper. "I didn't know-"
The shadows creep closer. The pressure grows stronger, crushing his ribcage and lungs.
"How could you say you were my friend? After everything you did to me?"
'I didn't know! I DIDN'T KNOW!'
He wants to scream. At the top of his lungs and for dear life and just to hear any other sound. But he can't. He can't scream. His body's frozen, and his heart is, too. He doesn't think he would, even if he could.
He still remembers what his own scream sounded like. Back then. The scream that ran his throat ragged and made his loved ones cower. How scary he'd sounded. How evil.
...Just how scary would he sound if he screamed now?
Instead, he shuts his eyes tight. 'Please, Makoto,' he begs. 'I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry-'
"Oh yes. You did. You knew exactly what you were doing. And you loved it."
Even with eyes closed, he can feel the monster's breath on his face.
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you-'
"Oh, Kiyoshi," the beast chides, it's voice saccharine. "...But you already have."
He can't rid that smile from his mind. That horrible, sickening, mockery of a smile! He wants to claw at his head and scratch at his eyes and - Anything! Anything to get rid of it!
'Please,' he begs, mind desperate. 'Please.'
He knows that Makoto - that Korosensei could do anything he wanted to him, and that he'd without a doubt deserve it. But even so, the thought makes his blood run cold. He's scared. He's scared! He doesn't want to hurt!
'I'll do anything.'
"Say it."
Kiyoshi's lip quivers. Tears run down his cheeks. The monster grins.
'What?'
"Say it. Say who you are. Say what you did to me. To your best friend. Admit it."
'No,' Kiyoshi thinks, heart pounding in his ears. 'Not that. Anything but that.'
"Tell me you recognized what you saw. Tell me you knew those faces. That you knew those scenarios. And you know who did those things."
No. Nononono. It's not true! He doesn't want to believe it's true! That's not him! He doesn't want that to be him!
"TELL ME IT WAS YOU!"
The creature's upon him, it's breath hot in his face. The shadows slink in like tendrils, and the tightness in his chest worsens. He knows it's not real... but all the same, he briefly wonders if he's going to die. And even worse, he wonders if he'd somehow deserve it.
...Because the beast is right. Because the victim is right. Because his best friend is right. He does recognize those faces. The ones he'd seen in his dream. He recognizes the beast ravaging the building and the man vomiting blood and the woman lying bruised on the floor. And he's seen them before... in none other than Aguri Yukimura's scrapbook, smiling next to a bogeyman covered up by sticky notes.
They hadn't known what was coming for them then... or maybe they had. Kiyoshi doesn't know. But Fumiko and Makoto most certainly hadn't. He still remembers the way Makoto had sobbed outside the school; gently rocking himself back and forth as he just begged to feel safe... the way Kayano had recounted Aguri's pain. "Sometimes, I think she thought she deserved it." He wonders which nights Fumiko has lied awake, staring up at the ceiling with her own monsters to battle.
...He wonders how he couldn't have known that's his fault.
Because it is, isn't it!? He's pretended it's not and pretended he's good and pretended everything's okay! But it's not okay! And it will never be okay again. Because he feels some form of residual anger - residual fear and residual hubris in his chest- That which he so desperately wishes wasn't his own, and he sobs.
Because he doesn't want to be this person. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. But he already has. Beyond belief. Because he's scared of Korosensei. Because his eyes are mismatched and he likes science and he lays awake at night wishing he could move! Because he's a bastard. And some part of him knows! Has always known!
He's… he's... he's-!
"SAY IT!"
'I'm Yanagisawa! I'm Kotaro Yanagisawa!'
He shrieks it. At the top of his lungs and through sheer terror. At least... that's what he thinks. When he bolts awake, clawing at the bedsheets, he realizes none of that had been real. Of course it hadn't. He hyperventilates... sobs softly, and looks around his room.
The beast has vanished. Korosensei's gone. But it does little to ease the aching in his chest. Because he's said it. And he'd believed it. And he hates it.
...All he'd wanted was to like himself. Now he doesn't think he ever will.
It makes his body shake. Makes his hands tremble and his eyes water and his heart pound. As he gently flexes his fingers... staring at the wall across the room, he relishes in his ability to move, before wondering if that's an honor he maybe doesn't deserve, either.
...He doesn't know. He doesn't fucking know, and he maybe never will. And that scares him. More than anything. Because he thinks he was finally starting to find a place where he belonged. But now it is never going to be home again.
He shuts his eyes tight, desperately pawing at his tears with a shaky fist. And as he feels his chest sink… feels his hopes deflate, and feels the guilt engulf him, more than anything, he just wants to scream.
But he doesn't. He doesn't scream. At the risk of scaring his father, or scaring his fucking self, he doesn't scream. He doesn't stand, he doesn't plow his fist through the wall, and he most certainly doesn't scream.
Instead, Kiyoshi buries his face in his hands and he weeps.
Weeps softly... hoping no-one will hear him. Weeps weakly, because any urge to fight has seeped from his body. And weeps so hard it wracks his chest, because he's a liar. And he's bad. And no-one is ever going to trust him again.
...Kiyoshi weeps because Korosensei isn't here. Because Makoto's not here, and neither is The Reaper. The monitor doesn't beep, and the walls don't come crashing in. Cicadas chirp gently outside, and he hears a scream in his mind. Not that of his own, but of a woman who'd more than anything just wanted to love and be loved.
Kiyoshi weeps, because with the beast gone, he finally knows for certain that the only real monster that's ever set foot in his room is himself.
Kiyoshi doesn't sleep a wink that night. Nevertheless, he prepares himself to meet up with everyone at Nagisa's place in the morning. He'd hate to give it away that anything is wrong. To make his 'friends' or 'family' worry. This is his burden to bear. His monster to confront. He doesn't want anyone else's concern. Not when he knows he doesn't deserve it.
He hauls himself out of bed, limbs feeling heavy. He almost wonders if he'd caught the Flu. It is that time of the year, after all. His head does pound. He almost smiles at the thought. 'Yes, that would be nice.' He decides... if this was all some fever-induced nightmare. But when he presses his fingers to his temple and doesn't feel heat, he knows it's not.
...He knows he's doomed.
He walks towards the bathroom, splashes water on his face, and hopes it'll do something to reduce the bags under his eyes. But when he looks at himself in the mirror and meets his mismatched eyes, he decides it hadn't. He looks like he's been hit by a bus. Some part of him almost wishes he had been.
'It's okay.' he tries to reassure himself. 'I mean… you don't know for certain. It was… it was just one bad dream.'
His whole goddamn life is starting to feel like a bad dream at this point.
He slips into his clothes. Out of his pajamas, and into something much more apt to 'greet the day' with. He stares down the stairs for what feels like an eternity, before descending down towards the hallway or towards hell or wherever they may lead.
His father's waiting for him in the kitchen.
They don't talk. They never have. Dad sends him these concerned, sideways, glances, like he knows something is wrong. But he doesn't voice it. For once, Kiyoshi's thankful he doesn't. Instead, he simply nurses a cup of coffee as they sit in silence.
"Have a fun time with your friends," he says with an awkward cough. "I've… heard you've been doing well."
"Mmm," Kiyoshi says blankly. "I will."
They don't hug on the way out.
He meets up with Fumiko outside her house. She's already waiting when he arrives. She gives him a big wave, skipping over to meet him and instantly digging into some topic or another. Any other time, Kiyoshi would be happy to see her acting so open. But this morning he can hardly make out her words.
". . . . . I heard from Makoto that miss Nao . . . . . Do you think she got into something?"
"Maybe," Kiyoshi replies halfheartedly. 'Maybes' and 'mm-hms' make up most of his side of the conversation. He knows it's suspicious; giving her halfhearted replies and sideways smiles, but when she speaks his sides simply ache. She has no idea... what he saw last night... what he did. She thinks he's her friend.
He wishes he could be. It's not that he hates her. Maybe he did back then. He doesn't know. But he doesn't hate her. He doesn't believe those things he'd thought. At least… he doesn't think so. But even just remembering them - What it felt like… it makes him wonder if some things are simply too broken to ever fix-
'No. No. No,' he reminds himself, shaking his head. 'You don't know that yet. Not for certain. You could always just be scaring yourself. It was one bad dream. You don't have the proof. You don't have the facts.'
...But life is about a lot more than proof and facts. And he knows what he feels when he meets her smiling face.
". . . . .Are you okay?" She asks rather suddenly. She sends a nervous glance over her shoulder as she leads the way. "You seem . . . . . weird today."
Kiyoshi almost trips over the sidewalk as she speaks. Straightening up quickly, he brushes himself off and nods. "Of course I'm okay," he reassures. "Just… had a long night."
That's an understatement.
Fumiko's brow furrows with concern. And Kiyoshi can see her making that same face at him... in his dreams. In his nightmares. She slows down a bit, sticking closer to his side. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
He jolts, tearing himself away. Staring at Fumiko with half-shocked, half-apologetic eyes, he sidesteps away, nervously admitting that he's maybe not in the mood to be touched today.
She looks surprised, but quickly nods. "Of course. I'm sorry. I should have asked."
She's sorry. She's sorry. She's the one apologizing. If it weren't so horrible, Kiyoshi thinks he'd laugh.
"It's fine."
(She apologizes, and he does a whole lot more than tap her on the shoulder.)
It's not fine.
". . . . .Nightmares?" she asks.
And it takes him a whole ten seconds to realize she's addressing him. Looking at her with these big blank eyes, he gives another "Mm. How could you tell?"
"You look like, shit. That's how," Fumiko responds. "Pardon me for the language, but... it's true. Did you get any sleep?"
"Hardly," Kiyoshi admits.
"Try not to . . . . . pass out at Shiota-sensei's place." At first he thinks it's a command. But when his gaze drifts to meet Fumiko's eyes and he spots her cheeky grin, he realizes it's a joke. She's joking with him... like nothing is wrong. "Makoto and I would hate to have to . . . . . tuck you in."
...She really doesn't know.
He could say it now. He probably should. She deserves to know, doesn't she? Now that would put an end to the amiability in a split second. But when he hears her laugh at her own joke, he knows he just doesn't have the heart to. What could he possibly say? That the person she's trusted all these months - the person she's welcomed into her heart - bears the sins of the monster that lurks in her nightmares?
It's funny. That even this cold, rotten heart is too much of a coward to let her look at him with scorn.
It takes all of his effort not to cry... to shakily gulp, and ball his fists tight and breathe steady. Because his life is over and his dreams are dashed and he'd never even known until now. Because Fumiko's still treating him like her best friend and looking at him with those naive eyes and trying to cheer him up.
She jokes and tries to make him laugh and asks 'are you sure you're really okay?' and hangs close to his side. And she can call that whatever she wants, but he knows it's an attempt to cheer him up.
She's been trying extra hard for him lately. Ever since he confided in her in the teacher's lounge. "I just don't want to be left alone," he'd said. "I'm scared." But now he thinks if given the choice, being left alone is all he could possibly want.
He wants to appreciate that kindness. He wants to let it work! But he can't! He just can't when he meets those eyes and he remembers a different sort of balled fist. He can't when he hears that laugh, and remembers the way it petered off as he entered the room. He can't when he doesn't deserve it!
Fumiko skips by his side and Aguri bleeds out on the floor. There's a bruise the size of a grapefruit on her temple and she's not dying yet, but she may as well be. She spits out blood, clutching at her forehead, before turning to look up at him with watery eyes.
"...I wish I could understand you."
And Kiyoshi grits his teeth. Shakes his head and growls. Why does he feel so bad!? It's not his right! He's not the real victim here!
Fumiko stops in place and Aguri struggles to her feet. As Fumiko looks over at him once more, genuine concern in her eyes, Aguri props herself up on the wall with shaky breaths.
"Are you sure? That that's it?" Fumiko asks. "You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to, but it seems like… something more is on your mind. Are you okay? Like… for real, Kiyoshi. I don't wanna pry, but… I'm worried about you. You've always been there for me. The least I can do is repay the favor."
It takes all of Aguri's strength not to collapse right there and then. She'd never admit it, but he can tell from the way her knees shake.
"I don't know," he admits. "I don't know if I'm okay. But… it's fine. I don't want to talk about it. So please. Don't worry. About… about me."
Fumiko frowns, taking another step closer to him. She doesn't reach out to touch him again, but she does stick close.
"...How could I not?" she asks. "We're friends, Kiyoshi. Don't ask that of me."
And pushed to her limit, Aguri screams through tears "I just want to care about you! Why!? Why won't you let me!?"
"Anything you need," Fumiko says, reaching out a hand. "I'm here for you. No matter what."
She she smiles. Fumiko smiles and Aguri screams. Yanagisawa punches a hole through the wall. And Kiyoshi? Kiyoshi turns tail and runs.
He can't. He can't do this. Murmuring a quick thanks, he says he'll keep that in mind, but that he really needs to go, actually. He's suddenly feeling… super unwell. Like he might pass out. And that much isn't a lie, at the very least.
Fumiko watches him with concerned eyes, but she doesn't stop him as he goes. Instead, she simply asks him to text her later.
"I worry about you, you know."
...He's already gone.
He barely remembers the trip home. Just adrenaline and the icy bite of the wind on his cheeks as he speedwalks. He fumbles for his keys with shaky hands, dropping them and swearing under his breath as he attempts to unlock the door. He has to crouch down and swipe them with one hand just to successfully get in. And when he doesn't see his father waiting for him in the doorway, he's oddly relieved.
He steps inside, tossing his coat on the rack. He reaches for his shoes and places them aside. Taro trots his way, pointing a curious snout towards him, but Kiyoshi gently shoves it aside, not in the mood. And in a low, hushed voice he asks "Please don't bark."
Taro barks. And by the time Kiyoshi's managed to relock the door, he hears his father's footsteps traveling down the hall. He bites his lip and starts to speedwalk. Maybe if he's quick enough to get to his room, he won't have to-
...Talk.
He just about crashes into his father. Taking a careful step back, Dad watches him curiously. His expression hardly shifts, but he does slightly raise an eyebrow.
"I thought you'd left to go spend time with your friends."
"I - ah… I…-" he sputters. "I - uh! Started to feel unwell. N-nauseous. Really sick to my stomach." And it's not a lie. He thinks he may just throw up right here and now. "Lightheaded, too. I think I may be coming down with the Flu."
The Flu? The Flu!? What is he thinking? Why is he such a bad liar!? (Unless he's hiding his true nature. That seems to have come to him so easily.) He doesn't even have a cough! There's no way in hell his dad will believe he has the Flu!
Dad reaches a hand out. Places it on his forehead and furrows his brow. "You don't have a fever," he admits. But when he feels the way Kiyoshi trembles at his touch, he steps aside. "However… you do look unwell. You should get some rest."
Kiyoshi lets out a relieved sigh. He steps past his father and into the hallway. As he makes his way towards his room Dad asks him if he'd like anything. A Tylenol? The heating pad? Does he want to take the dog with him? But Kiyoshi declines it all. Something tells him his sickness isn't something that can be cured with over the counter pills. And the last thing he deserves right now is a dog's loving embrace.
(...The last thing he deserves right now is a dad who's willing to pretend he cares.)
The moment he's alone, the dam breaks. As he fumbles to lock his door, tears trail down his cheeks. And when he flops onto the bed, covering his face with his sheets, he begins to sob. Hiccuping softly under his breath, he wipes at his eyes with the blanket and lets out a hopeless whimper.
What was he thinking!? That he could pretend things were okay!? Nothing is okay! He may very well just be the reincarnate of the worst person on the planet! He spent all of last night dreaming about pummeling his best friend into a bloody heap! He can't pretend! Not even for a moment!
Even just seeing her - hearing her greet him with such kindness had been enough to reduce him to tears! How is he supposed to react if he sees her cry!? If he hears her scream!? If she trusts him enough to confide in him about the horrible things that were done to her? Could he, the culprit, just stand there with a straight face?
No. Nononononono. And what about Makoto?
He's going to hate him.
He's at a loss. He doesn't know what to do... for the next month or the rest of his life or even for the next five minutes. He doesn't have a plan. He can't even pretend! His head's pounding and each anguished sob only makes things worse. He wants to think he's good. Or at least… okay. He's… he's not like that, is he? Not… anymore. But he remembers just how righteous he'd felt back then, and wonders if he's blindsided now, too.
...If he's just as bad as ever, and only a little bit better at pretending.
Taro scratches at the door outside, but dad quickly ushers him away. He asks Kiyoshi again if there's anything he needs, gently jiggling the doorknob. But not willing to be caught with a tear-streaked face, Kiyoshi shakes his head and replies with a simple "No. I'm fine."
"Okay," Dad says with an equally as simple tone. "Just let me know if you need anything."
...He'd said Kiyoshi should rest, hadn't he? And Kiyoshi briefly considers it. But when he remembers what he just might see, he staunchly decides against it. Even a chance of alleviating his pounding head is not worth the risk of facing those dreams again.
He spends the rest of the day in a haze. On and off crying. He doesn't bother to use tissues. There are none in his room, and he'd hate to bother his dad. (...Hate to be caught in a moment of weakness.) Besides, he doesn't mind the raw eyes much, even if they make his heart pound and his blood rush.
(He hates them. He can't stop looking. In the mirror. At his own frazzled hair and wild, mismatched eyes. Blue and black. Black and blue. Has he ever thought he was ugly before now?)
He briefly tries to use the Verse. But when he hears the triumphant swell of Zelda's menu music or dares to hover over the colorful icon for Let's Go Zorua, he feels a sinking feeling in his chest. They'd played these games together, hadn't they? Maybe… maybe it's for the best he leaves them alone for now.
(What's the point in trying to distract himself, anyways? He can't run forever. This is his crime to face.)
He tries to read. But that's hardly better. His eyes drift from the words, and his hands tremble as he tries to flip the page. He's read all of these before, hasn't he? Norman Mailer wasn't a great guy. No Longer Human discusses some messed up topics pretty in-depth. Fuhrer Grumman reminds Mrs. Bradley that if her demon of a son behaves out of line, they may just have to put him down. Kiyoshi places his books aside and decides that's enough reading for today.
He paces a bit. Then paces a lot. Walks circles round his room. And he thinks. Mostly… more than anything he thinks. He doesn't find an answer. He's not even sure what question it is he's asking exactly. He just wanders... and wonders... and decides that maybe there's something deeply wrong with him and there always has been. He just hadn't noticed until this moment.
There's a chemistry kit in the corner of his room. Dad had gotten it for him two Christmases ago. He's fallen a bit out of love with it since he first got it, but he'd always thought it was cool to see what he could create.
...He doesn't touch it.
His friends text him. Of course they do. They don't know the reality of the situation. He stares at their messages for what feels like hours, but when he glances at the clock he realizes it's hardly even been five minutes.
[1/7/2031 3:16 PM:] [Fumiko] I told you to text me when you got home
[1/7/2031 3:16 PM:] [Fumiko] Are you sure you're okay?
[1/7/2031 3:31 PM:] [Makoto] Fumiko told me you weren't feeling well.
[1/7/2031 3:32 PM:] [Makoto] Do you think you got the Flu?
[1/7/2031 3:32 PM:] [Makoto] I can make you soup. I should totally make you soup.
[1/7/2031 3:33 PM:] [Makoto] Would soup help? Pretty please?
He clicks his tongue and gives them half-hearted nonanswers. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just forgot," and "No, I don't think I need any soup. Thank you for the offer, though."
He briefly considers asking Makoto a question. About how he tells the difference. Between what he felt back then and what he feels now.
He tries to google Kotaro Yanagisawa, and he swears he feels a twinge of anger in his gut when he doesn't even find as little as a Wikipedia page. All the same, he thinks he's relieved, too. His fingers shake as he scrambles to close the page. And just for good measure, he deletes his history.
He knows no-one will check. But it just feels… dirty. And not in the fun way. Like he's been tainted irreparably. And he'd like to leave his phone out of that, if possible.
...Makoto has a Wikipedia page.
"Korosensei (?-2015), sometimes spelled Koro-sensei or Koro Sensei, was a monster known most notably for teaching at Kunugigaoka Junior High, threatening to destroy planet Earth, and successfully destroying 70% of the moon. Capable of inhuman feats, it's theorized he was…"
His eyes drift from the page, just like they did his book. And Kiyoshi's head spins. He doesn't like the way it talks about him. Monster isn't very objective. And sure, the world didn't know, but he was a person, too.
...He didn't blow up the moon.
Kiyoshi doesn't text Makoto. Won't risk it. What if… what if Makoto managed to guess? The thought makes him nauseous. If Makoto knew… well, Kiyoshi doesn't know what on earth he'd do to him.
...It's funny. Somehow, he's actually less scared of Makoto now that he knows the truth. Less scared of Korosensei. Before… he'd seen a monster. Blood streaked tiles and a roaring pain. But now he knows the things he'd assumed are untrue. The things he'd assumed are tainted, too. Korosensei's not a monster. In fact, just like Nagisa'd been saying this entire time, he's actually pretty nice!
The monster who taught at Kunugigaoka Junior High. The man who'd preen your eyebrows when you tried to stab him. The victim who almost never gave up on anyone. For the most part, he wouldn't have hurt a fly.
...No. If Korosensei hurt you, that meant you had expended his every other option . If Korosensei hurt you, that meant you had scared him. And most importantly, if Korosensei hurt you that meant you deserved it.
He's safe… for now. Makoto's safe. And he always has been. Kiyoshi wishes he hadn't been too blind to see. But now, it's a little too late. And when the truth comes out, Makoto might just stop being safe with good reason.
He doesn't know why he feels so bad. It makes him feel worse... to carry this guilt in his chest. It's too late, Kiyoshi. It's too late for that to mean anything. If he'd felt guilty back then, maybe. But the story is written. The book's long closed. And the people who'd been hurt are left with scars. At this point, all he's doing is victimizing himself.
He doesn't deserve guilt. He doesn't deserve tears. He's the monster! He's the bad guy! He's the wife-beater and Makoto's torturer! He is not the biggest victim in this story! He's the victor! He doesn't GET to feel afraid! He doesn't GET to feel self-pitying! All he should be feeling right now is accountable!
...But it just turns out 'accountable' feels pretty damn bad.
The moon rises at six. Kiyoshi tiptoes to the window, presses his hands to the glass and squints. It takes a bit, but if he looks close enough he can still see the way cracks trail down its surface. The world can pretend to have returned to what it once was, but it turns out it, too, can be broken beyond repair.
Kiyoshi closes the curtain and faces the wall.
'What am I going to do?'
He shuts his eyes and breathes out through his nose. Balls his fist, unballs it, and thinks he might just burst into tears again. Because he's thought it over all day, and he's still no closer to an answer. There's only one thing he knows for certain, and it does little to ease his nerves:
'You don't belong here.'
...With this family. With these friends. He doesn't know what he'd been thinking up until now, but just like he'd seen the cracks running down the moon, the illusion's dissipated. This doesn't belong to him. It never has. He doesn't deserve these things. He doesn't deserve this… this love. He hardly even deserves to be alive!
That's a new thought, too.
Kiyoshi doesn't think he's ever been suicidal before.
He's not always happy with his life... that's pretty much a given. But he's never wanted to die. He knows that other people have had it way worse than him. And besides, he's always been so scared of death. Of the idea of just… vanishing. He may know he's not worth much, but some selfish part of him has never wanted to disappear.
He wonders what selfish part of him that's been. A narcissist, obsessed with preserving his legacy, or simply a scared child clinging onto his oldest fears?
...Is there even a difference?
He doesn't know. But he does briefly consider it. Dying, that is. It would certainly be the easiest on his friends. Then… they'd be safe. Then… they'd never have to know. But when he cracks open the blinds and peers at the ground below, a pit forms in his stomach, and he knows he's still too much of a coward. Deserving of it or not, he's never gonna wanna die, is he?
Selfish. Cruel. Monster.
'The world would be better off without you.'
He… he just can't, okay!? And it's not only cowardice! What if… what if he's worse next time!? What if it's some cycle that never ends!? He can't know! And he doesn't… he doesn't want to hurt anyone else!
'Worse? Who's to say you're not already worse,' he asks himself. 'Who's to say you're not the worst you'll ever be? You'll never know for certain, Kiyoshi'
He flops down on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. Feels his eyelid gently twitch, and tries to ignore the storm brewing in his chest.
'You'll never know for certain, Kotaro.'
...He doesn't want to make his friends cry.
He knows he probably will, regardless. But not like that. It wouldn't be any easier on them if he offed himself! If he left them without a reason as to why they'd think they did something wrong. And what about his family? Even if he did tell them the reason, they'd still grieve him. He can't - he won't do that to them. He's already caused them so, so much hurt. He doesn't want to make things worse! He just wants to… he just wants to…
...He doesn't know.
The rest of the night feels like a dream, and not a particularly good one. Dad calls him down for dinner; asks him if he's feeling any better. But he says he's not and takes dinner upstairs. Dad doesn't bother him again until it's time to say goodnight. He stands in the doorway and gives Kiyoshi an awkward smile.
"Sleep well. I hope you feel better soon."
...Ha.
Kiyoshi doesn't sleep. He doesn't want to. He rolls over and he thinks and he cries. Taro watches him curiously, pawing at the door and at his legs. But when he slides into bed and the dog licks his face, he only gives a discontented grunt in response. His cheery eyes and his fluffy fur: they seem to do everything in their power to say 'I'm sure it'll be okay.' But Taro doesn't understand. And he'll never understand. So Kiyoshi flips over his pillow, huffs, and whispers "No it won't, you dumb fucking dog."
He stands. He paces. He reads some more, and he fiddles absentmindedly with the Verse's joystick. He buries his face in Taro's fur. He thinks. And ultimately, when it becomes too much to bear, he packs up the chemistry kit in the corner of his room and shoves it in the back of his closet. It won't fix a thing, but it simply hurts too much to even see.
Ultimately, he falls asleep somewhere around 6 am. Lets his guard down for one moment, and that's all it takes. One moment he's staring at the LED clock blinking diligently on his nightstand, and the next his eyes are closed. He tries to fight it, but with a gentle snore, he drifts off... right on top of Taro.
...Kiyoshi doesn't dream of horrors. He doesn't even dream of the uncomfortable. Instead… he dreams of the mundane. Lazy college days, and the feeling of success. Somewhere, another person smiles, and Kiyoshi almost does, too, until he remembers just whomst this 'success' belongs to.
"Good work, Yanagisawa!"
"This could be a medical breakthrough!"
"You're going to do amazing things one day."
The real monster grins, and brimming with hubris, he decides 'I think I already have.'
Kiyoshi awakes at nine. His head is pounding. His eyes feel heavy. The curtains remain closed, but he already knows just what he'd see if he dared to toss them aside.
...The result of his success. Mindless destruction, and a world changed for the worse.
Korosensei doesn't greet him this morning. He can move his fingers. But when he pulls himself, limbs heavy, out of bed, he decides that being alone with his thoughts is somehow just as bad.
He thinks he's made his decision.
He knows what he has to do.
If he can't pretend… if it'd be too wrong... And if he can't die… it would ravage too much, then there's only one thing left for him to do. He needs to go away.
He can't be their friend. He can't be around these people. He needs to cut them off. And now.
Slowly, of course. Not in a way that makes it feel like it's their fault. It's all his. All he needs to do is pull away. Make it feel natural. Simply a side effect of growing up. He hates to manipulate them again. Hates to think he'll cause them any heartache, but it's the only solution he can see. They're not safe around him, and he can't let them know. Selfish as it is, he doesn't want them to remember him that way.
He'd much rather be a fond memory than the monster that terrorizes their dreams.
Makoto sent him a text forty-five minutes ago. Beside octopus emojis and smiley faces, he asks if Kiyoshi is feeling any better. Does he think he can hang out today?
"No," Kiyoshi texts back. "Not today." Not ever.
"Okay," Makoto replies half a minute later. "I hope you feel better soon. Miss you!"
...Kiyoshi doesn't respond.
He hopes it won't hurt too much. That Makoto won't take it personally. At the very least, he's glad he has Fumiko by his side. She'll get him through this. He just knows it. She's a strong person.
(...Unlike him.)
He doesn't know what he'll do. Once he's out of their lives. He's never had much of a plan, and he has even less of one now. Maybe... he'll just disappear entirely. Go somewhere completely alone. Just him and his thoughts. Forever. It won't fix much... it won't fix anything. But at the very least it'll prevent anyone else from being harmed.
On Monday, he meets up with Nagisa. Dad asks him if he's fine - if he really feels ready to go to school - but he reassures him with a soft "Don't worry about me."
He walks the long trek to school alone, and shows up early, stopping at Nagisa's desk.
...Wonderful, kind, Nagisa. He's going to lose him, too, isn't he? He's going to lose all of them. Dumb Uncle Karma... even Auntie Kayano... they're never going to want to see him again. After everything they've been through…
"You said there was something you wanted to talk about?" Nagisa asks.
"Mmm," Kiyoshi replies, and the E-Class drowns in the river. "...Please don't tell anyone I asked this of you… but I think I'd like to have my seat moved."
Nagisa's eyebrows just about ascend from his forehead. "Are you sure about that?" he asks. "I mean… I thought… your friends…-"
"Something happened," Kiyoshi said. "Don't tell anyone. Just do it. Please."
Nagisa relents. Shoulders low,...he relents. Tells Kiyoshi he'll arrange it, and reminds him with a tired smile that if he ever needs someone to talk to, his teacher's here.
"I know," Kiyoshi says. "And I'll consider it."
...He won't.
He doesn't need - doesn't deserve help. And he never will again. On Tuesday morning, Kiyoshi's new seat is halfway across the room. He's an ocean apart from the friends he once knew. The friends whom were so hellbent on helping him. And breathing deeply, eyes shut tight, he decides if he has anything to say about this, then they're the friends he'll never know again.