we can't hate him

Kiibo, Rantarou, Kaede

K1-B0 (Kiibo)

Kiibo thinks that it's been a long day. Angie—his beloved student council president, but more importantly his friend—has already been killed earlier, and now Tenko's body lies in a murdered heap on the floor in the same fashion. Two deaths have occurred in a singular instance in the killing game, and Kiibo thinks that that horrible truth makes today more tiring than usual. He's not necessarily exhausted himself, but he can see hesitation and fatigue pooling in the weary eyes of the others. He can see downcast stares and distraught mouths, all lowering into sadly disappointed shapes before him.

He sees it all, and sometimes wishes that he didn't. But it's okay, the helpful voice inside of him says. We'll be okay if we do this together! Let's assist them with this investigation!

It's the same helpful voice that has lead him on the right path for the most part, so he doesn't think it's wise to go against it for now. With a content smile on his face, Kiibo lends his hands towards the investigation. He talks to others and begins to corroborate alibis, but more importantly he shows off his functionality with his newly installed flashlight eyes and a photographic printer via his mouth.

Per Shuuichi's request, Kiibo provides a printed picture of the seance circle, one drawn with purified salt and crafted by Korekiyo's steady hand. Once the evidence is in place, Kiibo hums proudly because he has been an integral part of this whole process. What Shuuichi plans to do with the photo, he's not entirely sure, but if there is anyone who is good at putting puzzles together, it's the Ultimate Detective himself.

The Ultimate Robot, on the other hand, can only give so much of his functionality before he becomes useless. So to prevent overextending himself at this time, he takes a moment to leave the crime scene behind entirely. Shuuichi, Maki, and some others are already gone, and he assures Gonta (who asks so sweetly if he'll be back) that he'll return, soon enough. He exits the crowded seance room, and welcomes the cold, stagnant air that greets him in the hallway.

Kiibo thinks nothing of the third floor except for all the horrors that it has housed for his friends. Not one, but two members of the council have died here. Not one, but two of his dearly beloved friends have been ripped from his grasp. A pit of anxiety swells in his chest, blooming at a dangerous rate that threatens to burst from the pressure of it all. Yet he keeps his calmness in place, and maintains his cool. Of all the students, he has grounds to be the most calculated and level-headed in any given situation, but that doesn't stop him from exuding warmth and emotion like he really is another human.

Just as he reminds himself of this fact, he sees something that sends him into a nearly metallic shock. The very sight of it twists and turns his mind in different directions, like broken scraps in a factory compressor. His eyes are bright, neon, and wide within seconds. He feels his system screaming out warning and prevention signs of every manner, only for the voice in his head to call out protests against doing anything at all.

Because, the voice says, that's Kokichi over there. Kokichi is there, bleeding and crying for some reason. But that's okay! Just leave him there! He's so mean and nasty, and no matter what happened, it's clear that he definitely deserves this!

Normally, Kiibo would feel inclined to agree and listen. The voice in his head always helps him, and always gives him guidance in times where he feels lost. It comforts him whenever he feels dour, and it encourages him whenever he lacks strength. But for the voice to condemn Kokichi—as it always does—just seems too cruel right now, especially given the situation.

Kokichi looks even more pathetic than he already does once he realizes that Kiibo is watching him. But as he scrambles up from his place on the wooden floors—only to stumble and groan as he feebly clings to the wall for support—Kiibo thinks that in this short moment in time, the one before him actually isn't the Ultimate Supreme Leader. The person before him isn't this awfully clever, cleverley awful boy that manages to get on everyone's nerves in new, personal ways. He isn't this guy that's made himself out to be the wittiest and craftiest person there, things that can mitigate the sheer difference in physical strength and size he has in comparison with the other students. He isn't this scheming, conniving, unconforming figure that thinks and moves in unpredictable patterns.