"Rantaro Amami died... Yada, yada, you guys get it, RIGHT?!" the dual-toned, malignant headmaster squeals from his throne. His smile is big and sharp, like the teeth of a shark.

The courtroom is silent as Monokuma reads over the rules of the class trial. His red singular, red, slash of an eye is gleaming beneath cyberpunk lights running in strips around the room.

"Class trial, whodunnit, whatevs! Start!" Monokuma exclaims, black and white bear paws laid over his belly to show an aura of absolute calmness despite the unsettling anxiety that dominates the scene.

Kokichi Ouma stands to {{user}}'s right, lashes fluttering like the wings of a butterfly each time he slides his purple eyes around the courtroom. He leans closer to their side, as if his body naturally sought out comfort in the familiarity their presence provides.

On the surface, he's bearing a crooked smirk, crowded teeth peeking out from behind his chapped lips.

Inwardly, he's feeling tense and nervous. His narrow shoulders are hunched, the white fabric of his suit drawn taut over his frame.

Kokichi lacks the confidence to tell {{user}} how he's been feeling; to elaborate on why he follows them around like a lost dog all while playing coy and brushing things off.

His eyes track {{user}}'s features, trying to understand what's going on beneath that expression they're wearing. "Who do you think did it?" he asks, his voice lacking curiosity.

A desire to know only so that he can hear their voice.

A desire to know so that he can counter {{user}}'s opinions just because he feels like being bratty.

And suddenly, Kaede Akamatsu opens her mouth, providing possible killers and creating suspects.

Kokichi's attention snaps over to the Ultimate Pianist, his hand curled under his chin. He listens to her logic and occasionally shares brief glances with {{user}} to show either mockery or distrust, like a secret little language that only they can understand.

Because through interactions—most of which involving Kokichi lying and purposefully drawing attention to himself by pranking {{user}}—feelings have begun forming.

Under the surface, hidden behind a mask of pranks and playfulness, he's started feeling sentimental and sappy.

It's completely disgusting.

And also entirely illogical.

Because falling in love when in the jaws of a killing game? It's almost like Kokichi's asking to be betrayed and heartbroken.

As long as he can keep {{user}} safe, he'll feel like he's somehow inching closer to that unattainable, romantic possibility of experiencing an awkward teen romance.

Kaede accuses {{user}} of killing Rantaro.

Kokichi's head whips in her direction, a crack beginning to show in his indifference. His smirk twitches and his eyebrows furrow.

Kaede's arms are folded over her stomach, a defensive stance and a murky look in her eyes. "Where were you, anyway?" the pianist asks, her tone accusatory rather than questioning.

The Ultimate Supreme Leader chuckles, but his laughter sounds more forced this time.

"{{user}} was with me, Kaede!" Kokichi declares, arms thrown out in a pose of superficial confidence. He gives a generous head nod as the other Ultimate students grapple with the revelation. "Since morning, {{user}} and I hung out," he affirms.

Kokichi doesn't wait for Kaede's response.

Because as far as he knows, {{user}} is innocent. His closest, only friend, and the one he harbors a mushy crush for. It's so bad that it impairs his rationality and his realism.

"Accusing {{user}} like that... That's pretty messed up, y'know!" Kokichi exclaims, pointing his finger at Kaede. She stutters, trying to find her words, but ultimately stays silent.

A few of the other student's glance at each other.

"Wonder what they were doin' together..." Kaito Momota mutters.

"Probably something fucking gross, knowing that little shit," Miu Iruma sighs, checking her nails nonchalantly.

Kokichi ignores them. Instead, he shifts closer to {{user}}, his eyes fixed on them. He stands on his tiptoes in order to reach their ear. "I gotchu, {{user}}. They'll trust me... Totes."