Who you were (Pregame Saiouma)

Day -358

It had been nearly a week before Oma came back. He had a cast on his arm, had half of his face slightly swollen and a cast on one leg. When he walked in I couldn't help but stare, feeling the strangest mixture of emotions. I was happy, gleeful even, yet still still sad. The sadness was followed with anger and rage, wanting to slowly drain the blood of who ever did this to him.

Who was he even? Why was I feeling so intensely when I wasn't even sure what his first name was?

He sat down at his desk, completely silent. The whole time he stayed silent, not even giving me a glance. What had I done to upset him? I'd only known him for a day really, but he already seemed upset at me... how strange...

Further more why did I care?! Afterall, I only knew him for a day! Maybe I'd become attached since he reminded me of a Danganronpa character or two... that must be it... I mean, there wasn't anything interesting about him, besides his eyes. When he dies I want to scoop out his eyes and keep them in a jar. It isn't the most practical idea ever, but they were so pretty.

"Ok class, I'd like for you to work in pairs as we go over these images," the teacher instructed, a scan of the human brain appearing on our tablets, I wasn't really listening to her after that. I looked at Oma as he stared at his cast.

"So, are we going to work together? Or should I just do this on my own?" I raised an eyebrow slightly. He shrugged, not even giving me a nod or shake of the head, "Ok, then I'll take that as us working together..."

His breath hitched as I scooted closer to him, my eyebrow raising as he did so, "What's wrong?" I asked, half expecting sobs.

"N-Nothing-"

"Ok then would you stop acting like that then?" Irritation running threw my words, almost intertwined. It was weird though, I wasn't really irritated with him, it was more of a mildly annoyed. It wasn't really his fault he was consuming my thoughts more than Danganronpa was. If it was his fault, I'd have killed him.

He just sighed and stared at the screen, going back to staring at the floor after.

There were two images, the first scan of a schizophrenic's brain, and the second of a normal healthy brain.

At first I couldn't help but stare boredly at the image, until I noticed something. I poked Oma's shoulder, making him yelp, "P-Please d-don't d-d-do that a-again!"

Why did he look ready to cry? Why was it so easy to upset him?

I rolled my eyes, ignoring what he said, "Do you see that?!" I pointed to an area of the schizophrenic brain, as he nodded, confused. "Doesn't it look like a butterfly?!" I sounded almost like a child talking about their favorite ice cream.

"I-I guess..." he murmured. He seemed fixated on one part of the floor. It was as if the tile he was staring at was playing Danganronpa!

"So, is there something interesting on the floor?"

His gaze shot up at me, bewildered, "W-What?!" His voice cracked.

"Well you've been staring at the floor for awhile... I was just wondering if there was a reason why." I decided to not bring up Danganronpa, afterall we were in school, and our school had a strict policy against the series. I'd once been suspended for wearing a shirt with Kirigiri on it. Not the most fun thing to explain to your parents... especially when they're in America and it's very late at night for them. They didn't let me buy any Danganronpa merch for a week after that.

He shook his head, this time instead deciding to stare at his desk, "N-No... It's just a floor..."

"Well then why are you staring at it?" He shrugged. Something about that made my blood boil. Oh how I wanted so slap him... to add to the bruising on his face, to ruin his pretty little face. To make it so no one would recognize him...

When our class ended and it was time for lunch I went up to the roof, assuming Oma was right behind me. I sat in my normal spot then looked around, now confused.

Oma wasn't there.

Oma wasn't with me.

I got up, adrenaline running threw my veins, and began to look for him. I really don't know why. He didn't matter, he wasn't special, he wasn't an ultimate, he wouldn't be a blackened, nor would he be a survivor. He would be a victim. I hated the victims the most, they were always the dullest characters, made sympathetic so when they're killed off it hurts more. I never found them sympathetic, so I never gave them sympathy.

But he's different.

Maybe it's because he hasn't figured out how twisted you are.

Maybe you only care about him because you want to be the one to hurt him. To watch as the color drains from his face, as his eyes go from a look of panic and terror to nothing, to feel his life leave his small body. 

Maybe it's because at the end of the day you want nothing more than to watch as the blood drains from his body. Would his blood be pink or red?

Pink or red.

Pink

Or

Red

I found myself in front of the bathroom. It seemed very likely Oma went in here.

But something was bothering me.

Why was he in here?

I slowly opened the door, finding that my eyes refused to open as the door creaked.

Why was I acting like this was the end of the world?

I'm going to open this door, and open my eyes and find him, and see he's still the same as he had been earlier.

Then why are you shaking?

Are you afraid he's figured out what a monster you are?

Or that someone else has beat you to the punch and he's already dead, laying on the ground. Maybe he's been there for seconds, maybe hours. Who knows with how long this is taking you.

I held my breath and stepped in.

There couldn't be anything that disturbing... right?

A/N: AND A CLIFF HANGER!

Wow I haven't written one of those in awhile! This is exciting.

Also I'm thinking after this, I'm gonna make one on Oma's POV threw out this, although his would probably be just a one shot, but still.