Chapter Text
Ouma was getting tired of waking up to darkness and pain. Although he didn't feel panic at his lack of memories, he already knew the most important stuff, which was that he was sucked in the killing game and it was most likely his fault. Thankfully, he didn't dream, or at least he doesn't remember it. What he remembers is passing out on the floor after the class trial, but now he's lying down on a cozy bed. The room he was in was dark, so he couldn't see much, and just when he was about to stand up and search for a switch to turn the light on, someone stopped him.
“Wait, don't just try to stand up like that!” Someone said clearly annoyed but trying, and failing, not to raise their voice. Ouma could see a vague silhouette of a person moving towards the wall and turned on the switch, illuminating the whole room with white light. The glow it produced blinded him at first, squinting his eyes to get used to the bright, headache inducing, light. Ouma touched his forehead and felt that his injury was covered. He tried to sit down on the bed but his arms didn't seem to cooperate, so the man next to him helped him. At first Ouma didn't recognize him, but then he realized he was Momota, his hair was down and didn't have his coat on.
“So… how's your head?” Momota asked, sitting down on a chair next to the bed.
“Haven't had any complaints!” He smirked and Momota groaned.
“Look, I need to know if you have an intracerebral hemorrhage, so don't be difficult.”
“Are you the Ultimate Neurologist? Because I'd rather not.”
Momota clenched his fists and exhaled in exasperation. “Shut up! Just answer my questions, I know what I'm doing.” Ouma relented and nodded, he preferred to go along with whatever Momota asked since he didn't want to risk his safety, taking into account that it was just the two of them alone in a room.
“Do you know where you are?” Ouma looked around examining the room, it was surprisingly organized. Books, potted plants and some spaceship models were strategically placed around the tables and shelves around the room, even his scarf was neatly folded and placed in a desk.
“Is that a tricky question? Because we are trapped in the killing game. But if that answer isn't satisfactory then I'm in your room.” His voice was as neutral as possible, he didn't know if he should act like himself or as the version Saihara vaguely told him about.
“What's the last thing you remember?”
“I voted Shinguuji-chan as the blackened.”
“Nothing else?” Momota frowned.
“Well, I remember thinking I needed to get off the podium and lay down, couldn't risk hitting my head again,” he laughed softly, Momota seemed satisfied with the answer.
“What's your name?”
Ouma frowned. The question made him uncomfortable. “Ouma. King horse.”
Momota raised an eyebrow. “Is that the kanji? Whatever, it doesn’t matter… But that's your last name, what about your given name?”
“Aren't both first and last names given names?” Ouma tried to deflect but Momota didn't take the bait.
“Your first name then, do you know what it is?” he looked worried, and Ouma couldn't let Momota suspect anything. Even though it made his insides recoil.
“Not my first name, but it's Kokichi.” The name didn't suit him, he didn't feel lucky at all.
“You seem fine enough, at least you don't show signs of cognitive impairment,” Momota said mostly to himself. “Can you raise both of your hands?” Ouma demonstrated it by raising them and flashing a peace sign with both of his hands making Momota chuckle.
“Okay, you're fine, I think it's just a concussion. Does your head hurt?” Without waiting for an answer Momota took some pills and a glass of water from the desk next to him and offered them to Ouma.
“Take one, it's a pain killer.” Ouma took a look at the label and confirmed that it was in fact what Momota claimed. He also checked the side effects and couldn't find anything to worry about, so he took one and swallowed it along with some water. Then he realized how thirsty he was and downed the whole glass. He was also hungry but didn't want to eat anything yet out of fear of vomiting. Carefully he stood up and walked around the room, his legs felt weak but that wasn't surprising, besides, he needed to be at his best if he wanted to survive. Ouma stopped at a shelf that had a couple of books and lazily looked at them. Some of them were manga with generic shonen titles, Ouma rolled his eyes at those, but it made sense Momota was interested in them, he looked like the kind of idiot that would believe in the power of friendship. However, he was impressed by others, like how there were some books in English, some of the titles were familiar to Ouma. Then he found one that was written in neither Japanese nor English.
“ Преступление и наказание,” Ouma read the title on the cover, surprised he could understand what it said, “Crime and Punishment, by Dostoevsky. Can you read Cyrillic?” he asked, genuinely curious.
The dumbfounded expression on Momota made Ouma laugh. “O-Of course I can, I'm fluent in Russian. But you—do you also know Russian?” Momota's excitement at the thought of them having something in common made Ouma laugh harder, though he didn't know how to answer his question. Maybe knowing different languages was part of his talent as the Ultimate Supreme Leader, Ouma didn't know how or why but it made sense somehow. Still, the thought of knowing a new language without having to put any effort in learning it was unsettling.
He opened the book on a random page and read out loud, “... that I shall really take an axe, that I shall strike her on the head, split her skull open…” Ouma frowned, it was a strange feeling, foreign words left his lips in sounds he could not comprehend yet understood. He wondered what other abilities he gained because of his talent.
“Why do you have this? It's… fitting for the situation we're in.” Ouma's statement made the carefree air turn tense, he saw Momota flinch from the corner of his eye.
“Hey, don't think anything weird! I just wanted to practice my Russian while being stuck in here, and it was the first book that I saw that was written in that language.” What Momota said was most likely the truth, however, maybe his subconscious chose it.
“Hey hey, Momota-chan, why did you help me? It's not like we're friends or anything like that.” He asked while putting the book back on the shelf.
“Being friends has nothing to do with it! I saw you collapse and I knew that I had to help, that's what heros do!” Ouma almost gaged at Momota's words, just when he though Momota was somewhat smart and interesting, he had to fucked it up with a hero complex.
“A hero, that's so cool!” Ouma replied sarcastically, “so you're like superman! Or the übermensch— ” his voice dropped and gave Momota a dangerous smile, “in a way, you're just like Raskolnikov, the protagonist of that book. An extraordinary man that's above us peasants and is delusional enough to think he has the right to kill. So it was fitting after all!”
Ouma almost slapped himself for saying something antagonistic like that, he was going to get killed if he didn't get his act together. But he couldn't help pointing out the hypocrisy or utter irony of other people's ideals, he loved to see the realization on their face that maybe, just maybe, their beliefs were wrong. It was as if he splashed them with iced water, but ten times more satisfying. And Momota's face almost made him forget about his slip-up. Yet the initial shock usually lasted only a couple of seconds, then he had to run if he wanted to avoid a beating. Momota looked like the kind of person that thought with his fists first and head last, and being trapped in a room, alone, injured, and in a killing game nonetheless, made him sweat with worry. He needed to get out of there.
Without thinking twice Ouma dashed across the room towards the exit, Momota was to his left, next to the bed, so avoiding him would be easy as long as he was fast. He was almost halfway there when he tripped and fell, thankfully his reflexes didn't fail him so he managed to avoid hitting his head again by mitigating the fall with his hands. Momota was now running to where he had fallen, and Ouma decided that crawling to the exit would be too humiliating, he'd rather die. Looking at the floor he noticed that his shoes were the hazard that made him trip, making him realize that he was barefoot.
“Why did you take my shoes off? Are you some kind of pervert!”
“Of course not! I didn't want your shoes on my bed!” Momota leaned down where Ouma was, “but more importantly, did you hit your head? Can you stand?” Momota offered a hand to help him get up but Ouma just stared at his hand with a blank face, then he grabbed his shoes and put them on.
“You need to be more careful, why did you even run like that?” Why indeed, it wasn't as if Momota looked like he was about to punch him, though Ouma knew it was his fault for provoking him.
He was about to answer but an announcement played from a monitor indicating that it was morning, Monokuma didn't appear in it, but two Monokubs did, somehow that pissed Ouma more. Taking that as his queue to leave, he stood up and walked past Momota, taking his scarf and putting it on, the stains of blood were gone, meaning that Momota washed it. He also took his other belongings, like the lockpicking tools that were next to his scarf. Momota should have taken all of the things from his pockets to avoid him getting hurt if he convulsed while being unconscious, or he wanted to make sure Ouma didn't have anything dangerous in his possession. Or maybe Momota just wanted his Monopad back.
“So… I'm going to leave now. It's been fun being kidnapped by Momota-chan!” He said moving towards the door.
“I didn't do that, I just… Wait, where are you going to go?” Momota asked as he realized Ouma was leaving.
“To my room, obviously.”
“But you don't have the key, how are you gonna get in?” Ouma didn't know, he thought the doors didn't have locks, maybe he could lockpick it, but he didn't know how. Maybe it was like riding a bike, something you learn and never forget.
“Did you already forget about my super secret ability? Getting inside my room is easy for someone like me!” He said cheerfully.
“Oh yeah, that…” Momota scratched the back of his head, “hey man, about what you said before in the class trial—”
The bell suddenly rang making both Ouma and Momota flinch, they looked at each other and Ouma decided to open the door. It wasn't a surprise to see Saihara, and he wasn't surprised either when he saw Ouma open the door.
“Good morning Saihara-chan! Were you worried about me?”
“Good morning, Ouma-kun.” Saihara said, a shy smile was forming on his face. “Do you feel alright?” he was looking at Ouma from top to bottom, most likely to find out if he was truly okay.
“Yes, I'm better, you don't need to worry about me,” Ouma returned the smile, “Momota-chan was my nurse, I don't know how he knows all that medical knowledge, but he was super reliable, unlike how he was in the class trial!” he said loud enough so that Momota could hear, which he did since Ouma heard some protests inside the bedroom.
“That's good to know. What about your mem—”
“I'm dying of hunger,” he interrupted Saihara, giving him a warning stare, “let's go have breakfast!” Thankfully Saihara understood and dropped the topic. “Momota-chan, we'll wait for you in the dining hall!” And with that Ouma left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, Saihara following behind him.
“I'm sorry about that, Ouma-kun, it was careless of me to bring that up with Momota-kun close by,” Saihara said while walking across the courtyard, no one was nearby so Ouma let it slide, “however, I would like to know if you have recovered your memories.”
“No, I haven't. I've been busy, haven't had the time to try remembering stuff,” he really hadn't, so it wasn't like he was telling a lie.
“I'll help you, maybe after breakfast I can show you around the school, or we can go to your bedroom, maybe there's something there that will refresh some memories.” The thought of Saihara going inside his room made him anxious, though he doubted he had something that would incriminate him. Still, Ouma showed his appreciation towards Saihara for being helpful, even though he would prefer Saihara wasn't so interested in him getting his memory back.
Nothing interesting happened during breakfast at first, no one had the energy to engage in conversation except from polite small talk, excluding Momota, who arrived soon after Saihara and him. The robot and Shirogane asked about how he was doing, the others paying close attention to what he had to say. It was annoying being at the receiving end of pity and worry, yet it was something that was useful. Making himself look as weak and non-threatening as possible so that no one would suspect anything if he decided to act upon his darkest desires. In addition, he needed to change the perception the others had of him, it wouldn't do him any good continuing the evil facade in the long run.
“I feel better than yesterday, I'm no longer dizzy and my strength is back to normal. But my head still hurts, I think I need to rest some more.” Ouma answered their concerns with half truths and half lies, making them worry but not so much to mark himself as an easy target.
However, Shirogane was the one to call on his bullshit. “Is he telling the truth, or are those more lies,” she asked no one in particular, making most of the Ultimates doubt what he said, and although Ouma was sure Momota and Saihara believed him, they didn't show any indication of backing up his claim. Shirogane had used a subtle manipulation tactic, and Ouma picked it up immediately. Why was she so eager to make the others suspicious of him, what did she gain from that? He realized that his strategy to become a harmless background character wasn't going to work, nonetheless gaining everyone's trust was his objective. Even though he would shatter it to pieces eventually.
“Yeah, I lied. The truth is that I still feel terrible,” the best way to revert the suspicion was to make everyone feel bad for doubting him in the first place, “if it wasn't for the pain killers, I wouldn't be able to be here right now, the light and sounds are to much, even trying to talk is difficult. I don't want to eat anything because I'm scared my body will reject it. But I guess you're right, Shirogane-chan, I shouldn't lie about my condition, I just didn't want anyone to worry. So I'm… sorry for lying.” Internally Ouma clapped at his magnificent performance, now everyone's eyes were looking at him with so much pity it made his blood boil with rage. Something deep inside told him he was a coward for not having the guts to choose between being feared or being loved, but it was worth it.
Momota looked mad, but his anger wasn't fully directed at him. “Why didn't you say so sooner! Don't lie about that, at least not to me. I need to be sure you don't have anything serious going on.”
“I apologize for doubting you,” Kiibo admitted, “I believe we shouldn't be so harsh on you, after all it was thanks to you that we found who the culprit was in yesterday's trial.” Everyone agreed. Ouma found it funny how quickly people changed their mind, now they were praising him for being able to deduce Shinguuji was the blackened. The depressed girl, Yumeno, was thanking him with tears running down her face. Even Iruma was grateful, in her own weird way.
Suddenly, Monokuma appeared out of nowhere, making Ouma tense up. “Are you guys talking about me again? You must love me! Hm? Are you getting dizzy from the face I make when I concentrate really hard?” It was all nonsense, Ouma didn't bother responding. Not surprisingly Shirogane was the first one to answer Monokuma, their short interaction seemed almost scripted.
“Never mind that… You guys are probably eager for it, right? My prize, that is.” Ouma’s ears perked at that, was he talking about a motive? “Right? You guys can’t live without getting a prize right now, right?” Ouma almost nodded, he was genuinely curious, and lowkey terrified, to see what Monokuma was going to give them. “That's what I thought, so I brought the prize!—Is what I would like to say… I had prepared an amazing motive to get all of you pumped up for murder, but since one of you bastards ruined my beautiful trial yesterday, I decided to spice things a bit. The motive is already in the possession of someone here!”
Chaos emerged, everyone was screaming either at Monokuma to offer an explanation, or at each other demanding to tell who had the motive.
“Jeez, calm down,” Monokuma said and everyone shut up, listening closely to what he had to say, “this morning, before the morning announcement, my cute Monokubs delivered the motive to a certain someone. That person can do whatever they want with it, use it by themselves, share it with the rest of you bastards, even destroy it! But I would advise that person not to do that, it's such a good motive! The rest of you can take this junk—” the bear placed a brush and a blue stone on the table— “use those to find a Flashback Light that I've hidden somewhere. I wonder what memories you'll uncover next! Happy hunting!”
Ouma sighed in disappointment, that was such a boring turn of events. The chances of him getting the motive were basically zero, it was perfectly clear that he pissed Monokuma off, and if Shirogane was indeed the ringleader, she also was mad at him for ruining the last trial. So, unless they wanted him to kill someone he wouldn't get it. What was more probable was the possibility of the motive involving him in some way, making him a target and the next victim. Yesterday's performance at the class trial made that option the one with more chances of happening. Ouma needed to do something or else he was going get murdered. He looked around, watching the reaction of the people around him. Panic and confusion were the prominent emotions that possessed the students, Iruma was the most freaked out by Monokuma's announcement, her paranoia was making her blame everyone for having the motive, and using it to kill her. Gokuhara was doing his best to calm her down with no avail. Kiibo was asking for honesty, that the person with the motive had to confess and give them the motive to them so that they could destroy it, and not trigger another murder. Shirogane was crying, but her tears were obviously fake.
“Guys!” Momota screamed filled with determination, “we won't achieve anything if we suspect each other, that's just what Monokuma wants. He could've lied about the motive to make us doubt each other, but I'm not gonna fall for his lies!”
“You only say that because you have the motive!” Iruma accused him, “that's why you want us to forget about it, so that you can use it and kill us!”
Ouma had had enough. This discussion was pointless, and he was bitter of the fact that he couldn't use the motive to his advantage. Besides, mindless panic and paranoia wasn't fun, though maybe it would be if he was the one creating it.
“Shut the hell up, whore. Paranoia doesn't suit you, so why don't you go back to being a cumdump instead?” Ouma said, fearing that what he said would be too much, but Iruma moaned before being silent. He felt dirty for enjoying having that kind of power over her. “I don't know if you guys know this, but I spent the night with Momota-chan. He was my personal nurse, he even dressed up like one!” Momota was about to argue but Ouma didn't let him, “what that means is that neither of us have the motive, since we have solid alibis.”
“Oh, yeah!” Momota said, “Ouma woke up before the morning announcement and the Monokubs didn't come by. So you can trust us, guys!”
Their intervention made the air less heavy, however people were still tense. Only two people out of nine were trustworthy, at least in their eyes, but Ouma wasn't going to shatter that belief by saying that both Momota and himself were capable of killing if they wanted to. Maybe the former not so much, but still, people did impulsive things when desperate. Breakfast continued, but now everyone ate in uncomfortable silence. One by one finished eating and left the dining hall, but not before unanimously agreeing to let Saihara take the objects Monokuma brought to them, so that he could figure out where to place them to open new areas of the school. At the end only Ouma, Saihara, Momota and Harukawa were left in the room. The former because he ate his breakfast slowly, scared that it would make him nauseous. Ouma expected the boys to stay with him, since so far they were the ones that had shown the most concern about him, but not Harukawa. He was still scared of her, she kept glancing at him with a cold glaze, she was obviously suspicious of him, but he couldn't think of anything to make her on his side, and he didn't care that much, she couldn't offer him much, except with killing tips, and he didn't needed those from her.
“Hey, Ouma-kun, I was thinking that maybe after you finish breakfast you could help me with these,” Saihara said while holding up the paintbrush and the blue stone, “but if you want to rest then we can explore the new areas later.”
Ouma didn't have a chance to even think about what he was going to answer since Momota was already speaking on his behalf, “no way bro, Ouma needs to rest, maybe later but I think it's still too soon for him to be moving. Oh, I know! Why don't you take Harumaki with you, both of you make a great team! And I'll stay with him.” He finished with a smile and a thumbs up, oblivious to the fact that he, along with Harukawa and Saihara were looking at him speechless. Momota must truly be an idiot, he didn't know at all how to read the air, nor to infer what the others wanted. It would almost be funny if he wasn't put at a disadvantage by his decision. What Ouma craved the most was to have a moment of solitude, where he could reflect upon everything that had happened. Go to his room and try to figure out who he was and why he decided to participate in this killing game, and maybe create a plan to get out.
“Why are you acting as if you're Ouma's doctor?” Harukawa spoke, her voice freezing with bitterness.
“Because I'm the only one here with the medical knowledge to treat him! One of the first things I had to learn in astronaut training was first aid in survival training. I was honestly surprised by all the things professors taught us about paramedics.” Momota's explanation only made Harukawa more on edge, her eyes were cold, like sharp blades made of ice. Ouma didn't know if her anger was directed at him or at Momota, or maybe at both of them.
“Hey, Harukawa-chan, don't you also need to know lots of things about medicine and the human body? Because if you don't want Momota to be my nurse, then you can take his place!” It was risky to provoke her, he was playing with fire by saying that, but Ouma felt somewhat safe with Saihara and Momota at his side. They already saw his neck, and Saihara looked as if he was going to cry out of guilt when he saw the bruises caused by Harukawa.
“Hey man, that's not necessary,” Momota interfered, subtle worry staining his words, and giving Ouma a wary look, “I doubt she would want to stay inside a room all day, isn't that right, Harumaki!” Momota left no room for doubt, and no one spoke to prove him wrong. Ouma smirked to himself, not only Momota didn't want to leave him alone with Harukawa—out of fear of what she would do to him, he guessed—but Momota was actually a disgusting manipulator. He wanted to laugh and expose the dirty tactics Momota used, but he abstained from doing so, at least at that moment. He waved his hands at Saihara as he left the dining hall with Harukawa.
Once they were alone Ouma smiled at Momota. “Are you sure you don't consider me as your friend?”
“What are you talking about?” Momota said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don't want to be rude,” Ouma said, fidgeting with the food that was left on his plate, some white rice with a barely touched egg, “but doing all of this for me would be less embarrassing if you did it because you liked me or something, not because of a hero complex.”
“I'm doing the bare minimum, it's what anyone would do in my position. And stop trying to twist my actions, I don't have a hero complex or whatever the fuck you implied this morning!”
Ouma wanted to continue, making Momota doubt himself to the point that he would question his deepest ideals. In that state anyone, even hotblooded idiots, would be easy to manipulate. But now was not the time. Momota was clenching his fists hard, containing himself not to punch the table, or Ouma's face, he was grinding down his teeth, and a vein was protruding on his forehead. The anger was evident, it would be dangerous to say anything else, so Ouma dropped the topic, erased any trace of emotion on his face and stared at his food. He didn't want to admit it but he was scared of Momota, though to be honest he was somewhat scared of all of the killing game participants, even the ones that didn't look threatening at all, like Yumeno or Gokuhara. However, Ouma knew that everyone who he was stuck with was capable of murder, all it took was a small spark to ignite the blaze of violence. All humans were capable of murder, it didn't matter what their beliefs, ethics or morals they based their lives on, and being stuck in this situation would make anyone desperate and commit the greatest crime, to take a life, either of another human or of your own.
Were humans evil by nature? Are they destined for an existence ruled by the egoism that lived in everyone's hearts, were killed or be killed is the supreme law? Or was the extreme decision people made a product of the environment that slowly poisoned the minds and rotted the soul until the bodies became a mere shell full of putrid thoughts. Ouma didn't know, and he honestly didn't care, no matter what the answer was the result was going to be the same. He shivered, taking a sharp breath, deep inside something whispered to him a solution: create a Leviathan to establish order. It would be easy in these conditions, everyone here was already scared of death, if he found a way to make them submit to him, and abandon their desires, he could become a sovereign leader.
“Hey are you okay?” Momota said, pulling Ouma back to reality, placing his hand on Ouma's shoulder. He couldn't help but flinch at the touch, making Momota flinch in return, taking away his hand as if Ouma was a flame that burned him at the contact.
“Shit.” Momota was looking at him with worry but also with caution, like he was approaching a wild animal. “Hey Ouma… are you… scared of me?” Ouma didn't know what to respond, was it worth it to admit a flaw to someone that was probably going to snap given the right circumstances, or would it be better to deny everything and risk a potential alliance. Momota was a wild card, he could take anything Ouma said the wrong way. But having Momota on his side would be beneficial, since he was already trustworthy and the leader of the group in some sort of way. The appeal of being the puppeteer that pulled Momota's strings, the one true leader hidden in the shadows, made Ouma feverish with excitement.
“… Why do you think that?” Never answer a question directly, always seek more information.
“Why?! Dude, you've been acting strange since this morning, trying to run away and now this?” Momota moved his hands gesturing at Ouma, “and your face, it's like you think I'm gonna punch you or something…”
“Well, are you?”
“What?”
“Are you going to punch me if I say something you don't like?”
“Of course not!”
“You're sure?” Ouma stood up, food long forgotten, distancing himself from Momota if things went south. “Before you say anything else, I want you to really think about it. If I said something horrible, utterly revolting, that was the polar opposite of your ideals and beliefs… Would you punch me? I don't care what you say, if it's yes or no, you don't even have to tell me—”
“Y-Yes, I probably would.” Ouma smiled at his confession.
“Then it's not a big surprise to realize that I'm scared of you, right?”
“But that's different, you wouldn't say something like that.”
“Probably not, but…” Ouma wandered around the dining room, arriving at the kitchen where a variety of fruits were displayed on a basket, he grabbed a red apple, examined it, and took a small bite. It was juicy and full of flavor, yet not sweet enough to make him nauseous. “We don't know each other, and I'm not a mind reader. Maybe you think that something that's perfectly normal is immoral, like, I don't know, maybe you're homophobic and think it's bad that I like men. Or maybe you're not but think it's wrong of me to also like women and nonbinary people,” he took another bite and talked while chewing, “and that's just one simple thing, what other things would be seen as bad, and made others, like you, punch me.”
“I wouldn't punch you just because you're—”
“Oh my God! Is my bisexuality the only thing you're focusing on? Didn't you hear anything else I said? Grow up.” Ouma rolled his eyes and took a big bite of the apple, chewing it with disgust.
“Yeah, but I… Look, I understand what you're trying to say, and… I don't know, it's a lot to think about. But just so you know, I wouldn't do that to you or anyone, since… it would be hypocritical of me to do so,” Momota looked embarrassed, he was avoiding looking at Ouma, anxiously playing with his hair, running his right hand along it.
“Oh.” Ouma didn't know what to say, out of all of the things he expected Momota to do, him coming out wasn't one of them. This was awkward. “That's… good to know.”
“Why,” Momota smirked, his demeanor changing completely, “are you going to ask me out?”
Ouma choked on the apple causing him to get a coughing fit, the coughing turned into laughter, some tears escaped from his eyes, “Momota-chan, you want to kill me? I almost choked to death!” he said trying to stop himself from laughing, “and no, you're totally not my type, I'm not into people with ridiculous hair styles.”
“You're the one to talk!” Momota screamed but all the signs of aggression, anger and worry had disappeared. He looked happy, maybe a bit annoyed but it was obvious he was enjoying their pointless talk, “mine is manly and super cool, while yours just makes you look like an ugly octopus.”
Both of them continued with the playful insults while laughing, the previous conversation forgotten. Ouma regretted it at first, since his goal was to prove to Momota how stupid his beliefs were, but he was having a good time teasing Momota, and being teased back. None of them said anything harsh or touched things that would surely make the other angry, it was lighthearted fun, and Ouma realized how starved he was of this kind of interaction. It was refreshing laughing alongside someone about ridiculous and meaningless things, not thinking about how to twist the words of someone, or being meticulous about what to say next. Ouma made sure to savor this moment, since he was sure it wouldn't be likely to happen again.