Ghost in the Closet

The Most Social Ghost Ever

When the average, white-themed home came into view, Saihara groaned. He didn't want to spend time with friends right now, he had more important shit to do. Like stalking and mentally torturing his next victim. Nevertheless, Amami called and begged him to hang out with the group, and he couldn't deny such an innocent remark.

As he walked up the driveway, his hands ghosted red roses that lined the path. Akamatsu loved to garden, it took away her stress when she had a performance approach. Saihara wished he could enjoy such mundane things but whenever he tried, he became bored and luscious plants turned to crusty brown trash. At least he found something to help him destress, it just came at a cost. To him though, the cost was insignificant, and if it helped him achieve his one goal in life, he'd sacrifice anything.

Amami answered the door as soon as Saihara knocked with a welcoming smile. "Saihara! Come in, come in. Thanks for coming!" The greenette ushered their silent guest inside, guiding him toward the living room. He noticed Akamatsu, Momota and Harukawa sitting around a coffee table setting up a game of Monopoly. They all greeted him and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside Momota.

"Yo, you look tired bro." Momota slapped his friend's back, frowning at him in concern.

"Work," the bluenette mumbled. Hours of stalking sapped his energy, but that was work to him so he wasn't technically lying. "Tokyo Terminator has struck a few times lately."

"Oh!" The plum-haired man gasped as he always did when he remembered something. "Did you guys know that dude killed Shinguji's sister? Someone accused her of sexually assaulting a minor years ago, but she made people fake evidence so she didn't get charged."

Amami sighed, staring down at their lap. "Korekiyo's taking it hard. I haven't seen nor heard from him since the murder." Saihara hummed. He forgot that Amami had another friend named Shinguji, no wonder that name felt so familiar. Whatever, the knowledge didn't faze him. No one mattered to him besides his four friends.

A glint of pure disdain and rage flashed through Akamatsu's eyes. She stared at Saihara, lips pursed in an irate pout. "Do you have any leads on this psycho?! They need to be stopped!"

He hummed again. "Can't talk about that with you guys." They nodded in understanding. Saihara could laugh, imagine if they all knew the truth. When they find out his true identity, they'd praise the Tokyo Terminator.

Without warning, Momota leapt from his seat and jumped to the other side of the coffee table, skin a ghostly pale. Harukawa joined him with a threatening glare in her eyes. Their gaze never left the area behind Saihara. Even Akamatsu and Amami watched behind him but didn't seem as worried. Saihara frowned, opening his mouth to ask before someone else spoke for him.

"Boo!"

Saihara jumped up and spun, punching the person behind him with full force. He shivered as freezing air encased his arm now inside of Ouma's body. "Ouma!" The bluenette shouted. "What the actual fuck?!"

Ouma cackled, holding his stomach and doubling over in a fit of hysteria. "You have the best reactions!" He cried, pretending to wipe a tear. "I get you every time, Saihara! Oh my God, you're the best victim a ghost could have! You're so not boring!"

"I-Is that a ghost?!" Momota shrieked. Saihara rolled his eyes and turned to his friends to see Momota clinging to Harukawa, cowering behind her. He looked like he could vomit at any moment.

"What's going on?" Harukawa demanded.

Shrugging, Saihara crossed his arms. "I'm haunted now."

"Pleasure to meet ya! Ouma Kokichi's the name! Pronouns are he/him, better respect them otherwise I'll rip off your nipples!" The ghost shouted, immediately gaining authority over the room. He floated over to Momota who shuffled away in terror. "Well well well, you look like fun!" Saihara groaned as Momota began shouting and running around the room, Ouma hot on his tail.

Sitting down again, the bluenette punched the bridge of his nose. "You're annoying, Ouma."

"Oh?" Ouma stopped chasing his newest victim to grin at Saihara. "You know what else is annoying? When you beg me to pound you into the wall every five minutes. God, you're so obsessed with my cock!"

Saihara raised an eyebrow, not amused in the slightest. Okay, maybe he was a little amused. Amami broke the awkward silence by bursting out in laughter. Akamatsu's eyes were wide in horror and Harukawa seemed to be debating killing herself or everyone else. Momota just trembled in the corner, unaware of Ouma's statement.

"Ouma, you can't even get hard. You need blood for that," Saihara sighed.

Whining like a toddler, the ghost crossed his arms. "You're no fun, Saihara-Chan!"

"Saihara-Chan?"

"Yep! You look like a girl with those adorable eyelashes." Saihara rolled his eyes. He'd always been told that he had feminine features such as his eyelashes and physique, but Saihara never cared about those things.

Glancing at Momota, Saihara felt a pang of guilt in his heart. The purplette was purely and utterly terrified, all because of Saihara. "I suppose I should leave," the man muttered. He didn't want Momota to continue suffering. Maybe he could come around to the idea of ghosts eventually, but for now, he needed space.

"What? Why?!" Akamatsu cried. She hated when hangouts would end early.

"Momota."

"Oh ignore him," Amami laughed. "Let's talk about Ouma and get to know him!"

The ghost scoffed, and this time, Saihara didn't notice a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Come on, you just wanna get on my good side so I promise not to hurt you."

"No, we want to be friends!" Akamatsu argued. "Ghost or not, you're attached to Saihara now, right?"

"No, I'm just bored." The ghost began investigating his nails, his amused glint returning.

"Well, either way, let's be friends!" 

He froze, glaring at the humans around him. Well, all except for the muttering and trembling Momota. Eventually, his eyes landed on Saihara and he hummed. "You know what, sure. I'd love to steal your souls when you least expect it!"

Saihara glanced at Akamatsu's shocked expression and sighed. "Don't be scared, Ouma's a liar and a manipulator."

"Hey!" Ouma shouted with a pout. "That's rude, Saihara-Chan!" He wailed but Saihara didn't notice any tears. Could ghosts even cry, or did they just wail like an infant?

"Whatever."

"Why are you so mean to me?!"

"I don't care about you." Ouma's false crying stopped as quickly as it started. He tilted his head, locking eyes with Saihara again. The detective rolled his eyes. That sad glint in Ouma's eyes was pathetic, but Saihara had to admit, no ordinary person would see that sadness through his mask of annoyance. 

Whatever; he didn't care. Ouma wasn't a friend and therefore trash to Saihara.