#i do think mikoto only had one victim but still got into fights and stuff sometimes - hence others' blood on his clothes in the past

[good-beanswrites]

Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...

👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!

Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.

With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.

He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall. 

The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.

A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.

“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”

“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”

“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”

What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.” 

Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.” 

Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it. 

“...Oh…” 

Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”

“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”

“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.

He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.

“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it. 

Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”

Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up. 

“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”

Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”

Shidou hummed in thought. 

“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best. 

Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”

“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”

Mikoto frowned. 

It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.” 

“Thanks. Really.”

He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”

Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”

Maybe this time he would believe it.

[good-beanswrites]

We were doing a roleplay thread of OoA. Mikoto (well, John) follows Kotoko to Mahiru's cell, and they tear the place apart.

Good thing Mappi wasn't around, but that's got to be a terrible thing to return to...

(Prompt?)

Mmm that's such an interesting thought -- the attack taking place in the room of the one person unaffected. The survivors guilt is Insane smh -_- I tried to lean into Mappi's voice and mindset for this, I'm not sure how it'll read but I'm super satisfied with the character study it gave me!

Every good housewife knows that a tidy home is a happy home. She knows how to take care of a tiny amount of clutter, since something as small as that can ruin the atmosphere. She knows how to approach larger disorganization before it causes distraction and agitation. The thing they don’t teach housewives, however, is how to handle a living space that has been wholly spattered with blood. At least, they hadn’t in any of the online articles that Mahiru had read. 

The woman hovered in the entryway to her cell, her hands brought up by her chest in an attempt to make herself as small as possible. The others had informed her that the day’s fight ended up in her cell, but she’d only been grateful she was away when it happened. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that the room may not be suitable to sleep in.

The door clicked behind her, locking her in for the night.

Furniture and possessions lay scattered across the floor. Her pillow and sheets had been flung about. She wouldn’t mind returning them to the bed if they were just kicked around the ground, but even in the dim light (her favorite lamp now lay in glass shards) she could see that they each held dark splotches of blood. The color was streaked across the floor, clinging to the back wall as well. 

Maybe nobody had thought to warn her about the state of the cell since there weren’t any huge puddles of the stuff, or because the lamp was really the only thing that had been broken. Mahiru told herself that they were probably too absorbed in the victims’ physical conditions to give it a second thought. It didn’t help the hurt rising in her chest – they could have said something. It would have taken two seconds to think about her and mention it. She could have at least brought a bucket and a sponge inside before curfew…

She bit down hard on her quivering bottom lip, scolding herself for feeling such self pity.

How dare she be anything but joyful that she made it out of today alive. So what, she had a little blood in her cell? It was better than that being her blood spilled somewhere. How dare she not be spending every moment in reverent gratefulness that the others made it out of today alive. Maybe it’d be rough to stay in the cell until morning, but at least she was guaranteed to make it through the night.

Fuuta and Amane’s faces flashed in her mind. She drew in a shaky breath. There had been nothing in her online articles about a situation like that.

But moping around never helped any household. The door was locked, so there was no chance of anyone coming back to cause any more mess. Though she couldn’t do anything directly for Fuuta or Amane, she could start drawing up a list of gifts and favors and favorite meals she could cook. It would be silly for her to cry now, with things going so well.

She should be happy. She should be happy. She should be happy.

And so she was. Mahiru used a scarf as a makeshift broom to sweep up the glass – every good housewife knows that safety comes first! She hummed a favorite tune as she collected the other objects around the room. The song wavered only once, though it returned with full force. She sang the cheery chorus with passion as she found one of her earrings had been crushed underfoot. It would make a fun DIY fix in the next few weeks – she always did love crafts! 

Once everything was straightened out, she moved to her closet. It was looking more bare after her verdict, but there were still plenty of things to choose from for what she had in mind. She picked out her thickest of clothes and laid them on the floor in a colorful, comfy arrangement – it would be the cutest little campout! In fact, if she pinned up her throw blanket in just the right way, it reminded her of younger years making pillow forts and having sleepovers. A little change in scenery can go a long way. She’d read that on a travel blog once, though she’d never truly believed it until now. 

She adjusted the blanket with a smile. As she curled up on a particularly soft sweater, she commended herself on the ingenuity. She’d gotten the room under control in less than an hour. If she could take on a project like this, just think of how happy a home she could run someday. 

Indeed, the space was downright adorable inside. One would never even know things had gotten so bad, she thought. One would never even know there was blood on the walls, just outside.