AN: SaiTeru forever. This chapter was hard to write because Kusuo's personality is difficult to capture since he's so emotionally flat. A realistic interaction between him and Teruhashi would be on the opposite extreme end.

Chapter 2 - School Day - Part 2

The walk home from school was one of the longest he could remember.

Every single step seemed interminably long. The damn migraine was still there and the images kept on coming. This time, the images were banal, like fishing and festival games, mixed in with green and grey yukatas. Were these clues?

Home was only a half-hour walk away, but he felt like he had been walking for days. He thought this would be a repeat of any other day in the process of going through his normal life, since he managed okay in the all day midterm exams and was able to successfully escape the ramen crowd. Maybe he should call his parents, to come and get him?

If he wanted to wait a few hours, maybe. Mom drove sparingly and Kusuo never wanted to make her do anything that made her uncomfortable. Dad kept odd hours and was known to be undependable. Kusuo did not want to wait.

He stopped walking for a brief moment to steady himself. He swore that he could hear sizzling sounds of his brain being fried and the cracking of his skull from the pressure. The nonsensical images came in waves, back to a series of formulas that he could barely pick out. Though the nausea had stopped, he felt dizzy and his balance was off.

He tried to recall when was the last time he felt like this. It had to be the year in the fifth grade, prior to the installation of his first-generation limiters.

His psychic abilities were far more powerful at the time. His telepathic range was too wide and he could barely hear himself in midst of the voices. Every day felt like walking through a damp fog. Normal activities like, eating, walking, breathing, turning his head, and even moving his fingers were burdensome due to the amount of control he had to exert in order to appear normal. He had a school sports festival that day that he somehow managed to participate in the activities without attracting too much attention. He made it home and passed out on the living room floor from exhaustion.

He recalled that his parents freaked out when they found him. Mom cried because she thought he was going to die. Dad pretended to be strong, but he had come to the same conclusion. They were afraid to touch him. He was so drained and dazed that his pyrokinesis and cryokinesis were out of wack, which caused burns or frost bites if touched. He remembered the painful brush of his parent's thoughts, their fathomless despair and anguish when they thought their baby boy was beyond saving.

On that same day, he got his limiters, along with Kuusuke's annoying challenge. And all was well again.

Kusuo was so absorbed by his recollection of that year and distracted by his stupid migraine that he did not even notice that someone bumped into him.

Since when was the last time he actually bumped into someone by accident? He really was losing it.

"Saiki-kun!" came the familiar angelic voice.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Of course. It could only be Teruhashi.

She seemed surprised that she bumped into him. "I thought you came with us to get ramen." Her inner voice confirmed her outer voice. I didn't see Saiki-kun with the crowd at the ramen shop so I lost interest and left. Oh no. He doesn't look great. I don't think I've ever seen him so pale. He is as white as a sheet. In fact, he looked like this all day. "Are you okay, Saiki-kun?"

Now Kusuo was getting slightly annoyed. Would people stop asking me that? Butwhat came out in his message to Teruhashi was appropriately polite. "I am fine. Thank you for asking."

"You're leaning against a wall," pointed out Teruhashi.

She was right. He was leaning against the wall for support. When did that happen? Hopefully he was careful enough not to accidentally break the wall.

Minor cracks only. That was a relief.

"I've noticed that you've been grimacing throughout the day," continued Teruhashi. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I feel just fine," Kusuo insisted. How many times do I have to repeat myself?

Teruhashi closed in the distance between them and held a hand to his forehead.

The action was so sudden and surprising, without the accompaniment of Teruhashi's usual inner commentary about how she was going to get that elusive "offu" out of him that Kusuo only stood in place. And since she was touching his skin, briefly activating psychometry, her inner voice was incredibly clear through the swirling of precognitive images.

"Well, you do seem slightly hot," observed Teruhashi verbally. Her inner thoughts were lengthy. He didn't...take the mid-terms like this, right? Oh no! Is that why he turned in his test papers so early? He didn't even bother answering any of the questions? Because he was sick? Which meant he probably failed the mid-terms and he won't be able to recover grade wise. How are we going to get into the same colleges if he doesn't pick up the slack? His grades are awfully average as it is. Do I need to convince his mother to send him to cram school so he can pull up his grades? And how am I going to become his wife if he doesn't make it into college, and get a job with a steady income of at least 4 million yen?!

Well, that was an unexpected mix of concern for and obsession with him. And since when did she dropped her expectation of marrying an incredibly rich, handsome guy and live in the lap of luxury for the sole purpose of showing off her perfection to the world? Her original income minimum for the guy was at least 40 million yen a year. When did it drop to a tenth to the poor, pay check-to-pay-check living of 4 million yen a year?

Teruhashi had changed in the year, or five years if counting the time loops, that Kusuo had known her. He came to the conclusion that she had, over time, lost her mind.

What girl would be so obsessed over a guy who clearly did everything he could to make her dislike him and leave him alone? He outwardly gave her the things she hated. He made her play games she disliked and thoroughly beaten her in those games. Got her to eat food she did not like. He steadfast refusal to give her the 'offu' she so desperately craved except for that one time and it was probably a hallucination anyway.

She had so many suitors, some of them were powerful politicians, even princes of kingdoms. She could have anyone she wanted. Saiko Metori, probably the wealthiest young man in the country, had openly asked her to become his. Saiko was not bad looking either. To reject Saiko simply because her name would sound weird when spoken was completely nonsensical. And for what? A magenta pink-haired young man with absolutely mediocre academics and athletics who came from a working family?

"I got some ibuprofen in my bag," said Teruhashi, completely unaware of Kusuo's silent assessment of her sanity. She rummaged around her standard issued blue school bag for the small bottle and produced it proudly. I always carry it just in case it's that time of the month. I can't have people see me all bloated and achy. The perfect pretty girl doesn't get bloated and achy, especially in front of Saiki-kun! "It'll help with the fever and headache. Do you want some?"

Kusuo stared at the bottle. As a rule, he did not take any mind-altering foods and drugs. His psychic powers were closely entwined with his mental state so he kept to nonaddictive stimulants like coffee and tea that increased his alertness, or the ones that helped control the pollen allergy. He hate to consider the consequences if he did become dependent on medication.

But his migraine was distracting enough that he was not confident of being able to walk home without mishap. He did not want to teleport since he was having a hard time telling if people are nearby, judging by the fact that he actually bumped into Teruhashi by accident. He would definitely stand out if Teruhashi had to call someone to come get him because then, he would end up owing an actual major favor to Teruhashi, for which he would rather die first.

Worse, he needed to avoid a meeting between his mother and Teruhashi right now. He did not want to hear his mother squeal about how adorable and pretty Teruhashi was again. He was not going to allow Teruhashi to talk to his mother about cram school. That conversation would raise too many questions. He needed to have that clear head.

"Yes." Kusuo held out a hand, admitting defeat. "Please."

Teruhashi opened the bottle and took out two gel caps.

"Do you need water?" asked Teruhashi as she rummaged through her bag again. I swear I have a small water bottle in here...

Kusuo shook his head. He quickly popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed. By modulating his psychokinesis, he willed the pill to dissolve almost immediately.

Well now, that was surprisingly helpful. The ice picks at the back of his eyes have been reduced to toothpicks. The whirlwind of precognitive images still abound, but manageable. He still felt a little woozy but his balance was mostly back. Maybe he really was sick?

That sense of dread though, still lingered at the edge of his awareness. He had got to get home and puzzle it out.

Kusuo bowed to Teruhashi lightly in thanks and began walking again toward the direction of his house.

"Wait. At least let me walk you home," said Teruhashi, chasing after him. I care about you, Kusuo-kun. I want to make sure you get home alright.

Kusuo immediately stopped, not sure how to react to Teruhashi's genuine inner voice of concern that was not laced with ulterior motives. For god's sake, she even called him by his given name, something she had never done for any other male classmate.

"Fine," Kusuo conceded.

Kyaa! Yes! We're finally walking home together! Alone! Teruhashi was so elated, so pleased with the rare occasion that the pink-haired young man actually bowed to her unspoken will that she unconsciously took hold of Kusuo's hand, squeezed and began dragging him along.

Kusuo allowed her to do so since he was not certain that he could control his strength with that migraine still crunching away at his brain cells and stabbing the back of his eyes. Despite this, he heard her internal exuberance loud and clear.

Thank you God! My prayers are answered! I don't even care that I'm walking him home instead of the other way around! Once we get to his house, I'll get his mother to send him to cram school. Then his grades will pick up, so he can get into college, then we'll date for a few years. Then we'll graduate. He'll get a job and propose to me. Then I'll become Saiki Kokomi and we'll get a big house. He'll go to work while I stay home and make foods that he likes. Then we'll have four babies together. No. Six babies! No. Twelve babies! They'll have my hair, my looks, and his beautiful magenta eyes. And...

For the next twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, Kusuo was presented with all variation of their future children's names, what they would look like, and what their personalities were going to be. Whether she would allow her brother, Makoto near them. How their parents were going to dote on these precious grandchildren. How she was going to be still so gorgeous after having twelve babies and getting the daily 'offu' from her smitten husband.

Who would've thought that Teruhashi, a girl who always ranked in the top 20 academically in their grade, competitive in sports, had such conventional, domestic aspirations for the future?

Yes. Teruhashi had most certainly lost her mind.


Kusuo was able to bid Teruhashi goodbye just before he reached the house. That avoided two simultaneous high pitched babble that just might really make his head pop at this point.

Kurumi, ever so perfect of a mother and a wife, she had already prepared a nutritiously delicious dinner for him and dad. It was breaded pork chops, a couple of colorful vegetable dishes, a bowl of rice and of course, miso soup.

"Ku-chan, dinner is ready, come eat" his mother sang when he walked through the door. "Papa said he's going to be late tonight. So don't wait up."

Per habit, Kusuo dropped his school bag at the base of the stairs. He then walked over to the dinner table and quietly sat down. His mother joined him, fully intended to have the meal ritual with him.

The food smelled absolutely delicious after only having three bites of rice and two gel capsuls of pain medication since breakfast. He picked up his chopstick, said the usual meal benediction in his head, was ready to dig in when an ultra-sharp pain stabbed him in the back of the head.

"Ku-chan?" his mother, Kurumi, looked up from her own rice bowl. "You dropped your chopsticks." Like a good old mom, she got up and went over to the dropped eating utensil to pick it up. She walked close to her younger son.

Kusuo shut both of his eyes tightly. This was new. The pain had always been at the temples or the back of his eyes. Now it's hurting the back of his head. It must had bothered him so much that he lost fine motor control.

"Ku-chan," his mother looked at him worriedly. "Did your headache get worse?"

He did not respond. His mind was distracted by the precognitive images that were filtering in again at a pace much faster than before. He held his head and took a few deep breaths. The one-time stabbing left very much memorable throbbing ache but it seemed to be over. The pain level was back to manageable levels.

Kurumi rubbed the base of her son's neck, disquieted by the look on her son's face. Kusuo had never been sick. He had never broken a bone, never needed stitches. Heck, he never saw a medical doctor outside the first three days that he was born. Sure, he had moments of discomfort due to his psychic abilities, but those resolved itself soon enough. Even if there was a reason to seek medical help, she was convinced by her eldest son to never take Kusuo to a medical doctor since an examination might lead to uncomfortable questions about psychic powers. As time progressed, she discovered that Kusuo would never need to see a regular family doctor since there was already someone better.

"Ku-chan, whatever this is, you've had it all day. You should get it checked out. Maybe I should call-" Kurumi's words were cut off by a ringing landfill phone. She went to the landline phone and picked up. Her expression immediately morphed into one of horror as she chatted with her mother.

Meanwhile, Kusuo recovered from whatever that bout was. He was now able to catch bits and pieces of Kurumi's conversation on the phone. It was exactly what he had expected.

"Oh no! Grandpa had a stroke! and is in the hospital!" Kurumi cried. She immediately looked to Kusuo, her thoughts to her baby boy's psychic abilities. "Ku-chan, is grandpa okay?"

"Yes," Kusuo managed to send between the nonsensical precognitive images bouncing back and forth in his mind. "He'll be fine. I've already checked on him. He'll make a full recovery."

His mother heard the reassuring words, but she was still drastically worried. It was her father, after all. A man who had a gruff exterior and would never ask for help when he needed it. This was the precisely the moment that any concern, no matter how small, but be attended to. Her mother was old and might not be as mentally quick to the treatment methods of modern medicine. Kurumi felt that she should be there and advocate for her father. So often are old people's complaints of pain dismissed by the hospital staff.

"Oh, Ku-chan. I hate to ask you this, but can you take me to the hospital?" asked Kurumi. "I've got to go see him."

Kusuo took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. Despite his current condition, he felt compelled to satisfy her request. "Of course I'll take you." You are my mother. You know you don't have to ask...

Kurumi quickly grabbed her purse, packed some of her own dinner in a bento box in case grandpa didn't like hospital food. "Please let Papa know when he gets back. He'll likely want to visit grandpa too. So you bring him okay?"

Thus, the time after school became a time of shuttling his parents back between the hospital and the house, visiting grandpa, getting whatever comfort material from the grandparent's house, and trying to keep his sanity intact.

AN: Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it. R&R.