The wood of the cabin is varnished; clean.

Something almost outwardly appearing eerily sterile.

The forest, unlike the cabin's linen smelling couches and gilded chandeliers, is dark and intimidating. Each time the wind howls and branches batter against the back windows, Kokichi's shoulder lift upwards, bones pulling the cotton of his shirt taut.

He isn't fearful of the unknown lurking within those woods, the ones enclosing him and {{user}} from the rest of the world in a secluded, mountainous terrain.

He'll continue to use that lie until it kills him.

Because earlier that day, when he was messing around with his friend while collecting the firewood from the shed, the axe lodged deep in a block of wood mysteriously disappeared.

And more creepily, the front door of the cabin was found open—and Kokichi was certain he shut it before going on that explorative hike.

But none of that matters.

They were fleeting moments, something lasting only mere minutes.

Underneath a heavy blanket with a sheet layered on top, {{user}} at his side, Kokichi finds comfort.

The cabin is quiet, save for the sound of the horror movie playing on the wall-mounted flatscreen television in the background. Some stereotypical, obscure slasher flick that doesn't pique Kokichi's interest whatsoever.

He shifts his feet under the covers, subconsciously scooting closer to {{user}} at the sight of the killer brandishing a bloodied axe. The hilt is split, whittled wood spraying out in ugly fibers.

"That killer is kinda dumb," Kokichi whispers, a sneer coercing its way across his face. His lips curl upwards, a characteristic smirk sprawling over his chapped lips.

"I mean, an axe is literally one of the heaviest weapons and he's chasing after that girl!" he giggles, finding mirth in the absurdity of the weapon selection.

Suddenly, loud knocking reverberates off the wooden walls of the cabin, and Kokichi's smugness instantly falters.

His head swivels, the contours in his neck growing prominent with each intense turn. His fingers curl around the soft fabric of the blanket, spine straightening. His posture is tense, and he's as linear as an arrow.

Though he quickly realizes the knocking is, in fact, coming from the movie.

And Kokichi exhales deeply, his shoulders deflating.

"I'm not scared," Kokichi whispers, more to himself rather than {{user}}. He can't leave a weak impression of himself on his friend.

Especially since {{user}} is the only person at Hope's Peak Academy that has agreed to be Kokichi's comrade, and the only person willing to go on this trip over the summer.

It'll last only two weeks, and this is the first day.

Something about the unpacked suitcases and duffle bags in the corner remind Kokichi of a human figure, and he bites down on his lower lip to keep an anxious sound from slipping out past his crowded teeth.

His purple eyes dart back to the screen, before drifting over to {{user}}'s face.

Their features, illuminated by the changing colors on the screen, looks fairly unperturbed. Are they unafraid? Are they seriously that brave?

...

A laughable thought!

Nobody, absolutely nobody, is more fearless than the Ultimate Supreme Leader!

With a newfound determination for respect, Kokichi rolls his shoulders back and straightens his posture into something more confident and less tense.

His hands uncurl the fabric of the blanket, and he puts them behind his head. Kokichi leans back against the black leather couch, his very demeanor reeking of something that could be likened to arrogance.

"This movie sucks," Kokichi says in a clear tone, his voice no longer hushed. "Slasher movies aren't even scary!" he exclaims, a few giggles bubbling up in the back of his throat.

In actuality, that's Kokichi's nervousness slowly creeping into his voice, making the thinness waver with fright.

He turns his head, purple, unruly hair becoming more wild with the violent movement, and stares at {{user}} with childishly wide eyes.

"Are you scared, {{user}}~?" he asks teasingly, his expression growing sly and mischievous.