Archive of Our Own ^beta

Byakuya Togami was not what one might call a ‘people person’. This was, all things considered, by choice – he was certain that, should he have the desire to, he could be perfectly charming – but the fact that it was a conscious decision didn’t take away from the fact that it was, at this point, his defining trait.

That was irritating to him. He wasn’t known as the smartest, or the most capable, or the strongest, or even the richest of the fifteen students. Instead, he was known for being the (as a few of his less tactful classmates had put it) asshole. The rude one. People here had punched each other out on the first day and he was still the emotionless bastard.

Not that he minded. If anything, it made things easier. If anyone had gone looking for him after he’d started to regularly take his breakfast (by which he meant coffee) in the library, it would’ve complicated matters. But, as no one wanted to be around him, he was perfectly safe.

Well. Mostly safe.

For some inexplicable reason, Makoto Naegi hadn’t seemed to get the ‘we don’t like Byakuya’ memo. He had started coming up to the library in the late morning, usually carrying a pastry, and just sitting there. He’d eat his pastry, read for a while, and then get up and leave. It was confusing. It was infuriating.

The third time this happened, Byakuya had confronted him.

“I just wanted to eat up here. Is that a problem?” Makoto looked innocent enough, but Byakuya was fairly certain he was mocking him.

“I’d very much appreciate it if you’d get out of my space. You’re completely ruining the atmosphere.”

“How? I’m not even saying anything.”

Exactly, Byakuya wanted to say. A silent Makoto was… odd. Out of place. Wrong, somehow. It was like when Byakuya had lost his first tooth and couldn’t stop rubbing his tongue over the empty spot—the absence was more distracting than the presence had ever been. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stop coming up here?”

“Nope!” Makoto had popped the last piece of a croissant into his mouth and flashed a crumb-filled grin. Byakuya thought he might faint.

“As stubborn as you are stupid. I don’t know why I’m surprised. If you’re going to be a waste of space in my general vicinity, I’d appreciate it if you’d do it quietly, alright?” He’d planned the words. Carefully. Meticulously, even, as he did everything he said. But what he wasn’t expecting was for Makoto’s face to fall slightly. To see genuine hurt flash in his eyes.

Byakuya looked back down at his book. It was pathetic of Makoto, really. To let something like that hurt him. Although, in fairness, it wasn’t a change of pace. Makoto, as he was learning, wore his heart on his sleeve. It was hardly Byakuya’s fault it was easy to crush.

Despite that (admittedly awkward) moment, Makoto kept coming in. They didn’t speak, but Byakuya found it a strangely comfortable rhythm after a few days. Maybe it was nice to, for a short while, know exactly where the Ultimate Lucky Student (god, he still couldn’t believe that was real) was. The only disadvantage of being separated from the group: He had no idea what was happening out there. They could all be planning to assassinate him, and he’d have no idea. Knowing that, for at least a short while, Makoto was in a controllable place on the chessboard was useful. In that strange way, Makoto became something of an ally.

Still, Byakuya was getting bored. A routine could often sour for him after a while, turning from familiar and comforting to positively mind-numbing. So, one day, he put down his book to inspect Makoto, wondering how best to incite some form of conversation.

Makoto had always confused Byakuya. Not that he was a mystery—in fact, it was quite the opposite. Makoto Naegi was simple in a way that Byakuya had never encountered. In a school filled with brilliant, talented people (in their own, inferior ways, of course), Makoto stuck out like a sore thumb. He was aggressively normal. It was like an itch that Byakuya couldn’t quite reach, or an eyelash that barely obstructed part of his vision. Makoto was an ever-present irritant, an enigma in his simplicity. It was, Byakuya was finding, becoming almost a fascination.

“What’s your secret?”

Makoto looked up, eyebrows raised. “Huh?”

“You heard me the first time. Monokuma gave us all secrets, right? As an incentive to kill? I want to know yours.”

Makoto turned pink. “It’s really stupid, are you sure?”

“I won’t be surprised,” Byakuya assured him. “Whatever it is, I have no doubt that I’ll have expected it.”

“Okay, uh…” Makoto stared at the floor. “I, uh, I wet the bed until 5th grade. Had a condition, it’s a long story, but… that’s it.” He looked up. “What?”

Byakuya was pressing his lips tightly together, trying to refrain from laughter (he refused to give Makoto Naegi the power to make him actually laugh). That was just so… fitting. Accurate. Of course this slice of bread shambling around in a human skinsuit was afraid of people finding out he wet the bed for a little longer than normal. He forced his face to regain a neutral expression. “Hm. Sufficient, I suppose.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s hardly interesting, but it’ll do.”

“I-interesting?” Makoto sounded offended. “It’s embarrassing, that’s all! What more do you want?”

“From you?” Byakuya sighed. “A better conversationalist, for starters.”

“Okay, fine. You want conversation? What’s yours?”

Byakuya felt his brow furrow and carefully smoothed it. “My what?”

Makoto had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Your secret. The one Monokuma gave you.”

Byakuya allowed himself a snort. “Oh. I’m not going to tell you.”

“Wait, actually?”

“Yes, actually.” Byakuya picked up his book, pretending to be done with the conversation, before sighing and putting it back down. “You didn’t honestly think I was going to tell you, did you? We aren’t friends.”

“You’re really not going to tell me?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Makoto seemed to consider. “Okay!”

Byakuya blinked. “O…okay?”

“If you don’t want to tell me, I’m not going to keep asking. I’m sure it’s private.”

Byakuya leaned back in his chair, baffled. “You don’t want to know?”

“No, I do. But you don’t want to tell me, so…”

“So you’re giving up?” Byakuya felt himself getting angry, and took a few breaths.

“I prefer to think of it as respecting others. You should try it some time!” Makoto’s smile was as cheery and light as his voice. Byakuya wanted to punch him.

“I don’t understand you.”

Makoto sighed. “Look, if you want me to press, I will, okay? I am curious, after all. But if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t want to make you. I’m not entitled to your secret just because I told you mine, that’s… that’s stupid. If you want to tell me, I’ll listen, but otherwise, I’m going to drop it. Okay?”

Incredulous, confused, and almost genuinely upset, Byakuya wordlessly returned to his book. Was Makoto insulting him? Saying that his secret wasn’t worth knowing? Logically, of course, this was good news; he wouldn’t have told Makoto anyway, and it was a real time-saver to have Makoto drop it. But something about the easy, casual way Makoto dismissed the whole conversation bothered him. The way Makoto abandoned what he wanted so quickly, just because someone else didn’t want the same thing. It was weakness. It was stupid.

It was, a tiny, shameful part of Byakuya’s mind chimed in, almost admirable.

There was value to learning how to work a crowd, he knew that. Perhaps Makoto was just realizing he didn’t want to make an enemy of Byakuya. If he was worried about that, he shouldn’t have been. Makoto was hardly worth Byakuya’s time.

Hardly worth his time, except when Byakuya lay in bed every night, trying to sleep, unable to stop thinking about him.

It was just annoying. Makoto was nothing special. He was quintessentially boring. He was everything Byakuya hated. And yet, instead of labelling him as ‘less’ and casting him aside, his mind had placed him in a spot of highest importance.

It started off as interesting questions. Byakuya had seen him in the trial, and he… well, frankly, he did well. He’d stood up against the pressure of everyone else, he’d analyzed the evidence, and he’d even managed to keep up with Kyoko Kirigiri, who, while irritating, was objectively intelligent. All of this implied someone who, perhaps, was worth talking to. And then Byakuya interacted with him outside of the trial, in a more casual setting, and it was all… gone. He was boring, and friendly, and naïve. So, how was that possible? How did he manage to get his act together enough to kill that first trial, but not enough to hold a conversation without sounding like an idiot? Was he smarter than he let on, or dumber than he thought? And why couldn’t he find it in himself to hate anyone for even a moment?

Then, the questions in his head started to become… nonsensical. What was Makoto’s family like? What was his favorite color? Did his hair have the ahoge naturally, or was it a stylistic choice? If the latter was true, could Byakuya please instruct him on stylistic choices? It was… strange. He didn’t particularly care about the answers to these questions, they were just hypotheticals that bounced around in his head, never worth looking into but also never truly leaving.

So Byakuya started to talk to Makoto. A little. Just in the mornings, when he was hardly able to avoid spending time with him. Infuriatingly, he didn’t hate it. It was a change of pace from the norm, but not in an altogether unpleasant way.

Byakuya was used to being tested. Every conversation had stakes, whether the people who were talking knew it or not. There were always variables to factor in, facts and opinions to consider, careful posturing and word choice that could make or break a discussion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed talking to someone, because he was always busy making absolutely sure he said the right thing, got the right result (and he always did). But with Makoto, none of that felt like a concern. Makoto was incapable of staying offended for more than a few seconds. There was no wrong answer. Of course, the annoying thing about that was that there was also no right answer. Byakuya never walked out of a conversation with Makoto feeling like he’d won anything. So it was only right that he keep talking to him. Until he won.

The first time Byakuya noticed that Makoto was cute, it didn’t bother him all that much. It was something of a surprise, of course, but not a concern. He had looked up from his book to see Makoto laughing at something he was reading, and felt his heart jump at the expression on the other boy’s face. It was embarrassing, of course, but nothing to worry about. He’d warned himself against flushing, returned to his reading, and thought nothing more of it.

Well. That had been the intention. The trouble was that Makoto continued to be cute long after that moment of realization. There was something oddly charming about the casual sweetness that came so easily to him. He was, in the plainest terms possible, a truly good person. And, yes, that was sometimes laughable, but it was also cute.

Never one to waste an opportunity for entertainment, Byakuya considered his options. He could just get rid of… whatever this was (‘crush’ seemed childish, not to mention presumptuous), and go back to just talking to Makoto. Easy, sure, but it would grow old sooner or later. Option two: Use it. He was already in the middle of a far more dangerous game, right? Perhaps this could be something of a stress reliever. He made a bet with himself: Two days to get Makoto Naegi interested in him. See how far he could push it without it going anywhere (and, in all honesty, consider if he wanted to then push a little further).

Of course, there was a risk in this game (it wouldn’t be fun if there wasn’t). Byakuya could not, under any circumstances, develop an actual attachment. He couldn’t, as Leon Kuwata had once put it so crassly, ‘catch feelings’. That would spoil everything. He had a reputation to uphold. But, as long as he kept that promise, he’d be fine.

Then he took a walk through the school in the morning and ended up finding a corpse. It really was just his luck. Come out of a death trap as the sole victor, and find that the proverbial pot of gold at the metaphorical rainbow is yet another death trap. Avoid people at breakfast to avoid falling victim to a murder, find a different victim to a different murder. It was vaguely poetic. He was certain he’d come up with something brilliant to say about it later.  

Tampering with the crime scene was something of an afterthought—or, at least, it was hardly premeditated. He’d done it for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being sheer boredom (and an intense desire to get Toko out of his perfect hair). Still, once he was done, he figured that he ought to adjust his time frame for getting Makoto invested in his game. He’d give himself until the trial, play his cards right, and see where it went.

The investigation was more fun than even he had expected. Makoto was, again, shockingly competent (he was sure that, if he didn’t notice the inconsistencies between Genocide Jack and his own handiwork, he would by the time the trial hit), and it was almost infuriatingly rewarding to see his face turn pink when he said something that ranged from mildly appreciative to downright suggestive. In the back of his mind, Byakuya wondered if Makoto already had a thing for him. It would explain a lot.

The trial, too, went well. Despite himself, Byakuya found himself genuinely enjoying working with Makoto. It was something he wasn’t used to; he was, in a way, forced to trust another student with his life. He could lead Makoto in the right direction, but, in the end, it was up to him to connect the dots. It was a careful dance, done through raised eyebrows and slight smiles and contradictions that, in a sense, they both were aware of. When Byakuya asked Makoto to explain a point, he was putting his faith in Makoto, trusting that he wouldn’t drop him (and he didn’t). It was surprisingly exhilarating. He was almost proud of Makoto by the end of it.

Of course, people were angry. They called him callous, horrible, downright psychotic. And, of course, he treated it like it was nothing. Like he didn’t care. And he didn’t. Not about Chihiro. He was dead, there was no point in being sorry. Certainly, he didn’t care about Toko’s secret being revealed. Leaving a serial killer unchecked in their midst was unwise (and it was amusing to see her face fall). But, when he looked to Makoto, he would barely look at him. Their game – and it had been their game, hadn’t it? – was gone. Makoto was angry with him. Upset by him. Disgusted by him.

Byakuya Togami could handle a lot of things, but the idea of someone being disgusted by him made his toes curl and his mind race. He almost felt violently ill. It was inexplicable, and stupid, and absolutely unbefitting of one such as himself, and yet.

He made it up to his room before he broke. For the first time since coming to Hope’s Peak – for the first time in a very, very long time – he allowed himself to have a good and proper tantrum. He yelled, threw things, but he didn’t cry. He wasn’t that weak.

Why? Why this, why now? Was it because he’d lost this round? Makoto certainly wasn’t interested in him any longer, and he doubted he’d want to come to breakfast anymore.

That stung. Byakuya felt panic settle in his chest. Why did that sting?

He pictured Makoto’s face as he laughed. His reassuring half-smile as he told Byakuya he wouldn’t press the issue. Warmth spread through his chest. A smile tugged at his lips.

Oh.

Byakuya Togami was screwed.

He’d been right, Makoto hadn’t come by since that day. Which, as he had to remind himself every single day, was a good thing. Great thing, even. Gave him time to get over this.

A fascination was fine. Hell, being somewhat interested was fine. But this? This was not fine. Byakuya felt like his chest was being stabbed. He’d almost come down to breakfast multiple times to check and see if Makoto was okay. If he was eating well. If everything was alright with him. It was gross.

Worse were the odd moments when he did see Makoto (who, of course, seemed to have all but forgiven him for the second trial’s proceedings). Then there was something gentle and warm, pressing against his ribcage, making him wish he could sit down and talk to Makoto about nothing again. It was a vicious cycle of happiness and fear and anger, and he was hardly equipped to deal with it.

But perhaps worst of all was the effect this had on his daily life. He was, horrifyingly, going soft. Nothing major, nothing he couldn’t get under control; it was subtle. It was seeing Taka, curled up sobbing in the hallway, and feeling the ridiculous urge to reach out to him. It was imagining that Makoto had been executed and feeling a knife of pity slide into his stomach. It was seeing Sakura and Hina walking through the hallway hand in hand and hoping to god nothing happened to either of them. It was having a negative effect on his chances of winning the game. For the first time, he wondered if he could kill anyone when the time came.

Maybe he was overreacting. What was so attractive about Makoto anyway? Okay, sure, he was smarter than Byakuya had expected. And, sure, okay, maybe the hair had grown on him. Just a little. And, yes, he was kind. More than kind. He was the kindest, sweetest, most forgiving person Byakuya had ever been around, and maybe that made Byakuya feel comfortable around him. But he wasn’t moved by kindness. Makoto wasn’t going anywhere in life. That was the truth. Byakuya’d practically told him that to his face multiple times (oh god, he was almost sorry for that, this was getting ridiculous). And yet, inexplicably, Makoto had wormed his way into Byakuya’s brain and settled in for the foreseeable future (or, at least, the 30% of the future that was foreseeable).

“What did you do to me?” Byakuya, when in doubt, often decided that it had to be someone else’s fault. It was a trick he’d picked up from his father.

Makoto, who had been taking a walk down the hallway, nearly fell from whipping his head around in surprise (Byakuya swallowed a scream, and then a curse). “Holy… oh, hi, Byakuya!”

“You broke me!”

“I… I did what?”

Byakuya forced himself to calm down. He would get out of this with a shred of dignity. “Could we discuss this somewhere more private? Where there isn’t a chance of… someone else hearing?”

Makoto’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, you’re trying to hide from Toko, right? Yeah, she’s kind of freaking me out, too.”  

“This is not about her.” It wasn’t, not really, although he hardly needed a reminder that he had a useless wretch of a girl following him around all the time, acting utterly indecent and completely disregarding the fact that he wasn’t interested in wome-

Wait. Byakuya felt the realization settle on him like a physical weight as his thoughts caught up to him. Oh, that was… that was bad. That was a bad thing that he’d just realized. He should probably un-realize that.

“Byakuya?” Snapping back to reality, Byakuya realized Makoto was staring at him, clearly worried (he didn’t have a cute worried face, not even a little bit). “Are… are you okay? We can go to my room if you want-”

“No, I think the archives would be better. Come along.” Being in Makoto’s room wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“Uh, yeah, sure-”

“Alright, then, let’s go!” Grabbing Makoto’s sleeve and ignoring the surprised yelp, Byakuya all but dragged his shorter classmate into the library and then into the archive room. Alright. He had to choose his words carefully.

“Since the last trial… and, Makoto, I do hope you know how honored you should be that I’m even telling you this… I have been going soft.”

Makoto blinked. “You… I’m sorry, you’re what?”

“I’m not going to say it twice!”

“Okay, okay!” Makoto raised his hands in mock-defeat, which had no business being endearing. “So… what does that mean?”

Byakuya closed his eyes. God damnit, why did he have to develop feelings for such an idiot? “I look at the people around me and I am no longer able to disregard them without a second thought. It is impeding my ability to enjoy this game properly, which is… distressing, to say the very least.” God, he sounded like Taka. “I feel bad for them, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Wow.” Makoto sounded deeply unimpressed. “That must be so hard.”

“Your sarcasm is noted, but not appreciated. Now, I’ll explain further, in case you haven’t gotten it through your skull. None of you are worthy of my time. None of you are worth my losing sleep. And yet, I find myself wishing that I had the tools to help you with your meaningless, worthless ‘problems’ that you find yourselves saddled with daily.” He carefully picked around the nature of his feelings towards Makoto. He definitely didn’t want to address those. “You were the person I talked to most leading up to and during the Chihiro case, so I presume this is somehow your fault?”

“Are… are you saying I infected you with being a human disease?”

“This is not a laughing matter, Makoto. It is having an impact on my daily life, and I want it gone. So, I find myself in the truly unfortunate position of having to ask someone so far beneath me for… help.”

Makoto’s face was one of incredulity as he spoke. “Okay, you lost me again. You realize I can’t just… make you stop feeling what you’re feeling, right?”

“God, if only. No, Makoto, I am quite certain that I will have to handle this failure on the part of my mind entirely on my own.” So what did he want Makoto to do?

“Oh, I… I don’t know about on your own- I mean, if you wanted help, I could… I’m not a therapist, Byakuya, you realize that, right?”

“I do not need therapy.” Byakuya felt himself pacing, although it almost felt like he had no control over his feet. “I am not broken. This is a temporary affliction, and…” And he had no idea why he thought Makoto of all people could help. Maybe he just wanted to talk to him more. Damnit. “And I will solve it on my own. Get out.”

“What?” Makoto reached out, grabbing his hand and stilling his movements. “Byakuya, if you’re… if you’re struggling, I’m here. Not as a therapist, or whatever, if that makes you feel bad, but as a friend.”

“We are not friends,” Byakuya snarled. “You are, at the very best, a means to my end. I don’t care about you, Makoto Naegi, and it’s time you understood that. You are a nuisance at your core, nothing more than a hindrance that I will one day look back and scoff at. I hate you. I hate your face, I hate your voice, I-” he took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with this conversation. Get out.”

Makoto looked like he’d been slapped. Byakuya wanted to slap him, because the expression on his face was filling him with so much pain and regret – regret! Byakuya Togami! – that he very nearly wanted to wrap his arms around Makoto and apologize until he didn’t look so damnably sad anymore.

Instead, he sat down on a stack of books and regarded Makoto coolly. “I’ve asked you twice. Don’t make me ask again.”

Makoto bolted. Byakuya leaned his head against a bookshelf, wondering why everything was going so wrong so fast.

Byakuya was not homophobic. In the slightest. There were a myriad of other, far better reasons to dislike people. Byakuya had simply accepted that it was not an option for him. He had a family name to carry on. Part of his duty as a member of the Togami family was to have children, and part of that was (to put it as delicately as possible) being with women. With a lot of women, if he wanted to be anything better than a disappointment. His stomach turned unpleasantly at the thought.

Oh, he really was in trouble.

Stepping back, Byakuya reviewed his options. The simplest one was, of course, to shut himself in this room and never leave. He could get Toko to bring him meals, come down for trials and investigations, and otherwise stay entirely hidden. Appealing, but not especially dignified. It was all well and good to hide away when you had the upper hand, but now that Makoto had this leverage over him, it felt almost like giving up.

Maybe there was a way he could use this. As a teaching moment, if nothing else. Part of being perfect was, after all, endless amounts of self-improvement. Maybe he just hadn’t improved enough.

He wondered what his family would say if they could see him, curled up in the library, trying to devise a strategy to help him get over a weak, average, boring… boy. Most likely, they’d be disgusted. He certainly was. But it wasn’t a concern. He’d gotten over worse. He was sure he could handle this, too.

He didn’t come down for breakfast, but he did start speaking to people again. Just passing words in the hallway, irritated mutterings when they weren’t doing what he wanted, and, of course, doing his best to tell Toko – or, he supposed, Genocide Jack – to piss off. So far, the last one was a resounding failure (she had already planned out their wedding, to which he’d explained that marriage wasn’t in the cards for him, to which she’d started work on a plan to elope).

He avoided Makoto, and Makoto avoided him. It was a decently good few days. Byakuya had actually gotten some sleep, confident that he was getting over Makoto and his stupid hair.

“Hey, Byakuya?”

Damnit. “What?” He put down his book – another sorry excuse for a murder mystery – to face Makoto. He definitely didn’t look good, and Byakuya’s heart skipped so few beats he wondered if he’d added a few extra ones in.

“I… I couldn’t stop thinking about the last trial,” Makoto admitted. “And I really need to know. Why me?”

“Pardon?”

Makoto sat down across from Byakuya, folding his hands in his lap. “You could’ve pulled anyone along on that wild goose chase. Why did you choose me, and not… I don’t know, Hina?”

“Would you have preferred to not be involved?” Byakuya wondered if there was a point to all this.

“I- yeah.” Makoto scratched the back of his neck, unable to look at Byakuya. “Not because of you- well, actually, mostly because of you, but not because I was spending time with you. I just…”

“Did it upset you? Being used like that? Being lied to?”

“Yes!” Makoto finally stared him in the face. “Yes, it was… it was humiliating. I felt like maybe I’d gotten somewhere with you, and you just… shot me down. Like you thought I was stupid enough to fall for it.”

Hm. “Interesting.”

Makoto sighed. “Is that really all you’re ever going to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“An apology would be nice.”

“I’m not sorry.” Even now, when they were in… something of an argument, Byakuya felt more comfortable talking to Makoto than anyone else at the school.

“You should be…? I don’t know, Byakuya, I never know what to say with you.”

“Alright. Fine. You want to know why I used you?” Makoto nodded. “You’re smart.” This was a bad angle. Why was he going with this angle? “Actually, maybe smart isn’t the right word. You are surprisingly good at investigating, and possibly even better during the class trial. I knew that, for my charade to pay off, I needed someone who would be trusting enough to follow my lead, but ultimately intelligent enough to figure out that it was a lie. You ask why I didn’t use Hina? Once she forms an opinion, she’s incredibly set in it. I doubt she would’ve moved her suspicion away from Toko no matter what the evidence suggested.”

Makoto nodded slowly. “So… you’re saying I impressed you in the last class trial, enough for you to trust me to not let you die in this one?”

“What? No, I didn’t say that!”

“Not to argue with the ‘Ultimate Perfection’ or whatever-” Makoto’s use of air quotes sent rage through Byakuya’s chest, but he didn’t say anything. “-but that’s literally what you just said.”

“I wasn’t impressed by you, Makoto, you aren’t impressive.”
“I know, right? I’m boring. I’m stupid. I’m a thorn in your side. You hate me, right?” Makoto sighed. “I’ve been paying attention, Byakuya. It’s like you said: I’m good at investigating. I notice things. I notice inconsistencies. I can’t be a thorn in your side and the only person you let into the library in the morning. I can’t be stupid and the person you trusted with your life in the last trial. You tell me to leave you alone, you say you wish me dead, and then you turn around and drag me along on an investigation… what, just because you felt like it? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t have to make sense to you. I am your superior.”

“You don’t scare me.” Makoto eyed him with what might have been coldness if his gaze wasn’t always so warm. “You can yell and string up corpses and use words like superior all you want, but at the end of the day you’re just a scared little kid like the rest of us. And you are scared, don’t lie.”

“I’m not scared. I can’t be scared.” Byakuya hated this. He hated how exposed and open and honest he felt when Makoto was around. How out of control.

“Why not? What’s so special about you?”

“A member of the Togami line is not weak. I will not be a disappointment.” He did his best to put anger into his voice. To threaten Makoto with his tone, since his words seemed to have no effect.

Instead, Makoto’s brow creased with concern. “This is about your family, isn’t it? Are you worried about them?”

“They are quite safe. Unlike you, I come from a family that knows how to take care of itself.”

“I’m worried about my family,” Makoto said, staring at the floor. “My parents, and my sister. She’s a year younger than me, and she’s… she’s the best. She’s, like, a million times more interesting than me, you’d probably like her.” His face turned stormy. “Monokuma threatened them. Or maybe they’re already dead and he’s just taunting me, I don’t know. It’s, uh, it’s funny, I keep thinking… the last thing I ever said to them was some stupid joke about Hope’s Peak having better breakfast. If I could go back, I’d hug them again, y’know? Or I’d… I’d tell them I loved them, and thank them for being there for me. Apologize for every room I’d left messy, or dish I left unwashed, or every time we went to bed angry. Something. Something final. Something that felt right.”

Byakuya didn’t know what to say. How could he? In front of him was a boy who had just bared his soul seemingly out of nowhere. Makoto was vulnerable, and soft, and open, and… beautiful. Stupidly, horrifyingly beautiful. “I… I don’t know what I’d say to my family.” He laughed softly. “Proclamations of affection weren’t all that common in my household, so I probably wouldn’t say much. Hell, I think it’s been years since I told my father I loved him.” That wasn’t technically a lie, just an understatement. He couldn’t remember the last time the word love was used in his home. “It’s simply unbecoming. But I think I’d like to tell my father that I wasn’t coming back. I don’t want him to think I abandoned him without saying anything.”

“Because you don’t want him to miss you?”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Please. We aren’t so sentimental. I just don’t want him to think I gave up. Growing up is a test, Makoto. Every human interaction is a puzzle. I don’t want my family to think I couldn’t handle it.”

Makoto gave him a half-smile. “I should probably go down and get some lunch. But, if you ever want some human interaction without the, uh, puzzle, you know where to find me.” He stood up and left. Byakuya could feel the smugness from here.

He just… left? He left without letting Byakuya get the last word in. Had that been his intention? Was Makoto really that insolent?

Maybe he was worth paying more attention to than Byakuya had previously thought. Nothing rash, nothing that would further the strange attraction between them (well, he hoped it was between them. Not hoped. Didn’t hope. The opposite of hoped). Just… talking.

God, what was wrong with him? He didn’t like talking to people. Especially those so deeply beneath him. Makoto was bad for him. Getting in his head. Something was wrong with him, and it was all Makoto’s fault.

He wasn’t sure if it was spite or self-preservation, but Byakuya didn’t speak to Makoto until the next investigation hit. At that point, he couldn’t help but work with him a little. Watching Makoto work was becoming something of an addiction. It was just nice to see puzzle pieces click into place, one by one, until he either had a clear picture or was prepared to bounce ideas off of his fellow classmates.

However, it was more difficult to enjoy the game. He put on as much of a show as he could, but it seemed his newfound softness extended to corpses, because every time he looked down at Taka or Hifumi (Hifumi Yamada. The lows to which he had stooped) he got a sick feeling in his stomach. There was something easy about seeing the dead bodies as objects before. But Taka had been alive a few short hours ago, heartbroken over someone who’d also been alive, who was only dead because of someone else who had been alive, and-

And Byakuya had treated them all like they were nothing. That hadn’t sat poorly with him at the time, but now it made him fidget and pace while he was supposed to be investigating.

“You’ve already checked that drawer twice.” Byakuya jumped at the calm, measured voice behind him. He’d been searching the art room, looking for something he’d missed (and thinking about whether or not human life was inherently a waste) when Kyoko Kirigiri had apparently decided it would be funny to sneak up and scare the living hell out of him. Not that he’d admit it.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“No, you don’t,” she agreed. “And, frankly, I’d rather you didn’t.” She took a step closer. “But something is bothering you, and it’s going to bother me until I figure out what it is.”

He scoffed. “You’re a real humanitarian. So kind of you to ask, Kyoko, but I’ll be just fine without your help.”

“Oh, I don’t want to help you. I doubt you’d let me. I just want to know what’s making our resident dickbag so gloomy.”

“Cursing really elevates your language. You sound more intelligent already.” He went back to checking the drawers.

“Don’t patronize me.” There was nothing angry in her voice. It was calm. Friendly. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll ask around, see if anyone else has noticed anything.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Makoto wouldn’t tell, would he? He shouldn’t have said anything to him. This was stupid. “Fine. I’m… wondering… if maybe I misjudged the usefulness of allies in this place.” Not a lie, but also not the whole truth. This was a far more respectable way of saying it.

“You’re realizing that treating all of us like dirt was the wrong thing to do, and now you’re panicking over it?” Kyoko asked, voice so dry that it reminded him, bizarrely, of the crackers he used to steal from the cupboard (before such things were beneath him).

“Not ‘wrong,’” Byakuya corrected hastily. “Just… I don’t know, Kyoko, what am I supposed to say?” Oops. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to come out.

“Hm. So, you’re having a moral dilemma, correct?”

“God, it’s not anything as serious as that. I’m just wondering if I could’ve benefitted from treating you all with more respect than you deserve.”

Kyoko regarded him, expression unreadable. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Lie. Act like you’re bigger than the rest of us. None of us care if you’re human. Hell, we might actually appreciate it.”

“There’s nothing to… lie about, it’s just me. I’m honest. I’m a hell of a lot more honest than everyone else at this school.” And he was bigger than the rest of them (well, certainly his legs were longer, but he was speaking metaphorically). He knew that as well as he knew how to breathe.

“Okay, then, tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Byakuya took a deep breath. Kyoko wasn’t going to leave him alone until she got the truth, he’d figured that out by now. Maybe this was good. Kyoko, more than anyone else, seemed to understand the stakes of this game. Maybe she understood how to get over… all this. He steeled himself for the inevitable humiliation, and spoke. “I developed feelings for Makoto and now I’m quite reasonably distressed because he’s certainly not a suitable partner for so many reasons and now everyone around me seems almost deserving of my attention and I’m genuinely upset over the newest deaths and wondering if I made a mistake with Chihiro and realizing how much of a disappointment I would be if my family knew about any of this and-”

“Oh my god, okay, calm down!” Byakuya stopped talking to look at Kyoko, who suddenly looked genuinely uncomfortable. “I, uh… that’s a lot, wow, okay. Uh. Breathe?”

Byakuya fixed her with what he hoped was a withering glare (he was sure he’d lost all dignity already, but he would do his best to bring it back). “That’s your advice? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“Okay, look, I solve murders here, I don’t play therapist.”

“I don’t need a therapist.” He hated that word. It was a word that had been spat out at the dinner table for years, synonymous with failure. It was a word that was only applied to him when he was in trouble. He couldn’t afford to be in trouble anymore.

“Oh, everyone needs a therapist, most people just don’t have the guts to get one.” Kyoko sat down on the worktable. “So, you’re blaming all of this on Makoto, huh?”

“I… well, yes, I just explained how it’s his fault.”

“And your problem is that he’s not good enough for you?”

“Not good enough, not the right… gender…”

“Oh, my god.”

“It’s not a me problem, it’s a… future problem. But, even if he were a girl, you’re correct, he’s not good enough.” Those words tasted sour in his mouth.

“Have you considered that maybe you’re not good enough for him?” There was an edge to Kyoko’s voice, a bite to her words that Byakuya didn’t know quite what to make of.

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll spell it out for you. Makoto Naegi is perhaps the best person I’ve ever met. He’s my friend. Hell, he’s probably my best friend, as childish as that sounds. You, on the other hand, are… well, to take a phrase from your book, a waste of space.”

A dart of ice slipped past Byakuya’s ribcage. “Shut up.”

“Sure, maybe you have some use to the outside world- or, at least, the upper class, I doubt you’ve ever helped someone who actually needed it.” Kyoko continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “But in here? You treat us all like garbage, you deliberately mess with the crime scenes, and you treat human life like it’s meaningless. You provide us literally nothing.”

“Shut up.” Byakuya felt himself slipping into panic. Stay calm. Find a way to gain the upper hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I hurting your feelings? I wasn’t aware you had those. Oh, well, I suppose we can’t all be perfect.”

“Kirigiri, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Even to him, his voice sounded ragged. He couldn’t quite take in air properly.

“You really don’t sound quite as threatening when you’re falling apart. You’re worried about being a disappointment? Stop disappointing us.” There was no malice in her tone. She was casual, cool, almost nonchalant.

“Why?” Byakuya had at this point backed himself into the corner to get away from Kyoko. She hadn’t moved, but he still felt pinned. “Why this, why now? Is it really all just to get me to steer clear of Makoto?”

“Oh, no.” Kyoko’s voice had softened. “Byakuya, I don’t want you to steer clear of Makoto. Lord knows he’d be a good influence on you. All this is because I’m observant. And I know how to get what I want. You needed to hear this, and therefore I needed to say it. Wake up, Byakuya. You’re an asshole. If you continue to be an asshole, you’re not going to deserve the clothes on your back or the air in your lungs, let alone friendship from the rest of us, let alone whatever it is you decide to want with Makoto.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Goodness, no. You’d know if I were threatening you.” Kyoko stood up. “I’m simply reminding you that you can blame me, or Makoto, or Toko, or whoever else you want, but in the end it’s all on you. It’s your fault. Think about that when you get the chance, okay?” She didn’t wait for a response, and for the second time in a long time, Byakuya found himself unable to get the last word in a conversation. Standing up shakily, he resolved to get through this trial and ‘think about it’ later.

It wasn’t, in the end, all that enjoyable. He gave it everything he had, and he worked hard to maintain the air that he was having fun, but his heart wasn’t in it. Makoto was brilliant. Byakuya couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed.

He got back to his room. He didn’t throw a tantrum. He didn’t cry (thank god, he didn’t cry). Instead, he sat down on his bed and started thinking.

Kyoko had been wrong. It didn’t matter how harshly her words grated on his skin, they were wrong. He wasn’t a waste. He wasn’t useless. He wasn’t less than. He’d promised himself that he’d never allow himself to be those things again, and he intended to make good on that promise. Byakuya Togami didn’t make mistakes. He was perfect. He had spent his entire life making sure that his existence had value. There was no way Kyoko Kirigiri could come in, tell him off, and change all that.

Maybe Kyoko was in love with Makoto. Were they together? Was Makoto even into guys? There was a thought that hadn’t occurred to him until now: Maybe Makoto didn’t like him. That would solve the whole issue, wouldn’t it? It didn’t exactly sit right with him – in fact, it burned like a hot iron – but he was capable of accepting it as, at the very least, a likely possibility. Why would Makoto like him? It was as Kyoko had said: Makoto was smart, and kind, and a good friend, and Byakuya was…

A waste of space. Byakuya shook away the words. They were lies, no matter how he looked at it. It had been years since anyone had called him that. He’d made sure there was no reason for anyone to say it again.

He hadn’t minded the lack of friends at the school. Why would he want to be friends with people who couldn’t help him along? But he was slowly realizing that it didn’t matter whether or not he wanted friends. No one wanted him around. The value that he had was never tied to the people that cared about him, but suddenly the truth seemed almost physically heavy, like a weight that set on his chest.

He was alone.

Well, mostly alone.

Before he told himself that he was going insane, Byakuya stood up and left his room, taking the few steps down the hallway to Makoto’s. He pressed the doorbell before his mind could catch up to his body.

Oh, god. This was a horrible idea. What was he doing? Makoto wouldn’t want to see him, no one wanted to see him, he should just go back to his room and return to treating everyone like he didn’t care-

“Byakuya?” Makoto stood in the doorway, dressed in plain gray pajamas and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Byakuya panicked. “Uh, Makoto! My… my bathroom seems to have broken. Would you mind if I used yours?” What?

Makoto furrowed his brow, clearly confused, but nodded. “Uh, sure, dude. Go ahead.”

“I… good.” Feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment, Byakuya went to Makoto’s bathroom – the doorframe had long since been fixed, thank god – and sitting on the sink, weighing his options. It felt so stupid to just wait and then leave, but what other choice did he have? Maybe he should just sit in here, allowing himself to waste away under the weight of his futility, until eventually nothing was left but a pile of dust and a lingering sense of unworthiness-

“Uh… you in there? You didn’t fall in or anything, did you?”

Makoto’s voice startled him, but Byakuya recovered. “No, I did not fall in, that’s ridiculous.”

“I, uh, I was just kidding. Are you okay?”

Byakuya sighed. Was he really that easy to read now? “Uh. Yes. I’m fine.” He paused, thinking. “I just… have this friend.” Oh, god, he was in grade school.

“Friend?” He heard Makoto sit against the door and, after laying down a towel to be sanitary, followed suit. “You?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, I do have some. Lots, actually. They’re just… higher quality than all of you.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Makoto didn’t sound offended in the slightest, instead almost laughing. “So, what, you miss this friend?”

“No. He, uh… he was having some issues before I left, and I just was thinking about them.”

“Like what?”

“Well, if you’re truly curious, I suppose I don’t mind indulging you…” Byakuya ran a shaky hand through his hair. “He goes to a very small private school. A… very, very small private school. He only has a few people in his entire class. And he’s… well, he believes himself to be a cut above the rest – because he is – and, therefore, hasn’t spent much time working on relationships.”

“Oh.” Makoto sounded almost smug. “Okay, I get it. This, uh, friend… what did you say his name was?”

“That’s hardly relevant, Makoto. He’s my friend, not yours.” He heard Makoto snort on the other side of the door, and allowed a real smile to spread across his face. It wasn’t like anyone could see him.

“Fine. So, this guy doesn’t have any friends. Doesn’t he get lonely?”

“He wasn’t before. A… strange event befell him a short while into his time at the school, and it started really putting things into perspective. Made him realize a few things about how he was treating people.” Byakuya fidgeted with some invisible imperfection in the towel.

“Am I allowed to ask what the event was?”

“You aren’t in trouble, Makoto, feel free to speak as you wish.”

Silence on the other side of the door for a moment. “…okay, what was the eve-”

“He developed feelings for another classmate.” Silence filled the room for a moment. Byakuya wondered where he meant for this conversation to go. He wondered if he cared.

“Oh! Oh, wow, Byakuya, that’s, uh… who was it?”

“How should I know?” Byakuya asked defensively. “I didn’t know anyone at his school.”

“Fine. But, uh, how did something like that change anything?”

“It just… did, I don’t know, he didn’t seem to understand it himself. He started empathizing with people far more than he’d ever wanted to, and suddenly he went from being quite comfortable with solitude to feeling ridiculously lonely all the time. He tried to spend more time with people, but he was scared. And weak. And pathetic. And, eventually, he started realizing that, even if he’d wanted to, no one would want to… I don’t know, hang out. With him. Or talk to him, or laugh at something he’d said, or just sit in silence and read a book and eat a pastry. Just be with him. He realized that no one in the whole school cared if he lived or died.”

“Except for a creep with pigtails and scissors?” Makoto’s voice was gentle, but still almost teasing.

“If someone like that existed, she would be… something of an exception, yes.” Byakuya turned to face the door, even though Makoto couldn’t see him. “But if she were real, I’m sure he’d think that she didn’t really want to be around him, just… look at him. He’s tired of being looked at, like he’s some kind of breakable priceless artifact. And, hypothetically, he’d been treating this imaginary girl horribly all this time. Maybe he doesn’t deserve someone who actually wants to be his friend.”

“I think everyone deserves friends.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“No, really, I do!” He felt Makoto shuffle around, as if he was gesturing with his hands to prove a point Byakuya couldn’t see. “You… sorry, your friend is realizing that he’s been treating people around him badly, right? Good! That’s the first step! All he needs to do is work on treating people better.”

“But what if he doesn’t know where to start?” Byakuya was sure he’d regret this entire conversation tomorrow, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well… he could start by making things right with a potential friend. Maybe one who… I don’t know… sits outside a bathroom door and listens to him talk about some guy who doesn’t really exist?”

Ah. “I fooled you that well, huh?”

“You’re a master of deception.”

Byakuya laughed at that. It was a freeing feeling, that loosened a knot in his chest. “Alright. Makoto, I, uh… that is to say… god, why is this so easy for everyone else?”

“Oh, it’s not. We just have a lot of practice.” Makoto’s smile was clear in his voice. “We’ve got all night, take your time.”

“Shut up.” He winced. “I didn’t… okay. Makoto, I’m sorry.”

“For?” Back to teasing. Why was Byakuya incapable of staying mad at him?

“For making a complete ass of myself every time we speak. For calling you stupid. For playing with you during the second trial. For… everything about the second trial. For telling you to shut up just now. Did I miss anything?”

“No, that’s it, I think. Thank you. I accept your apology.”

“Thank you.” Byakuya leaned back, sighing. “That’s not fun.”

“No, it’s not,” Makoto agreed. “But it’s worth it. Having friends in here… I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

The words ‘in here’ stuck in the back of Byakuya’s head. They reminded him suddenly of where he was, and of the game he was playing. He was, ultimately, making nice with the enemy, no matter how much he enjoyed talking to Makoto. “You’d be better off, most likely.” He didn’t disguise the bitterness in his tone.

Makoto sounded confused, but not entirely surprised. “We just discussed the value of friendship, Byakuya, I don’t…”

“You’re… yes, you’re correct, but everything we ‘just discussed’ was in terms of the regular world. Here, there’s a danger to making friends. You don’t know who’s a killer.” Byakuya felt the door behind him open, and he nearly fell at Makoto’s feet. Scrambling up, he did his best to look dignified. He noticed for perhaps the first time how much taller he was than Makoto.

“So you’d rather… what, isolate yourself and watch everyone die? That can’t be how you really want this to go, Byakuya.”

“You all still don’t get it, do you?” Byakuya stepped closer to loom over Makoto, who, annoyingly, didn’t look threatened. He felt the door swing shut behind him. “In here, we aren’t people. Everyone around me – every single one of you – is practically a bomb. You’re all ticking time bombs. Eventually, somebody explodes, and the people near them get hurt. I’m not going to waste my chance to avoid the blast because you think friendship is important.”

“So you’re scared of getting killed?”

“If you want to phrase it that way, then fine. Yes, I’d very much like to avoid dying here, nameless and penniless.”

“You’re not… you’re not nameless. We all know who you are. And, if you’d open up to us more, we’d care, too!”

“Until you die! Until someone loses their minds and kills you and you die and then it doesn’t matter if you care or not because you’re- Makoto, it’s dangerous in here, and the fact that you can’t see that is worrisome.”

“But you’re not afraid of me,” Makoto countered. “You’ve worked with me throughout our time here, you came into my room to talk to me, you let me stay in the library where you hid from everyone else.”

“That’s different.” Byakuya dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“Why? I could kill you.” Makoto took a step closer, too, grabbing his arm, effectively trapping Byakuya against the door (funny, he’d always imagined it flipped). “I could grab… I don’t know, a lamp or something, or my toolkit from over there, and bash your skull in. Maybe I’d get caught, but you’d still be dead.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Byakuya said immediately. It came out as naturally as breathing.

“Why not?” Makoto was again toeing the line between teasing and threatening. It was, Byakuya thought dimly, not a bad look.

“Because you’re a better person than everyone in this place put together?” That may have been too much.

Makoto’s smile widened. “Oh? I thought you didn’t trust anyone here. I thought everyone was dangerous.”

Byakuya froze. Oh. “Yes. That is to say… everyone is. I’m not trusting you, I just- I just don’t think you- alright, could you please give me some personal space?”

Makoto stepped back reflexively, as if he hadn’t noticed. “Oh. Yeah, sorry.”

Byakuya sighed. “Maybe, against my better judgement, I trust you. A little. But that’s- see, that’s exactly what I’m worried about! I am not in a position to trust people! You could be bluffing, or you could be deadly serious about murdering me. Making friends… it’s a dangerous game.”

“You love dangerous games!”

“Alright, fine then, call it a dangerous strategy. I don’t like those. I don’t like losing.” He moved past Makoto to sit on the bed, shaking his head with a laugh. “Besides, it’s like I said. I’m not worth friends.”

“You always said we weren’t worth your time.”

“Maybe I was mistaken. To a certain extent. Honestly, I still don’t think you’re worth my time, but it is irritating to know that I might not be worth yours, either.”

“Oh. What changed?” Makoto sat down beside him.

“I think… I think it’s nothing, actually. I’ve felt that way for longer than I thought. I think I was lying? To myself?” He made a face. “I don’t like that.”

“I don’t like it, either,” Makoto said, nudging his shoulder. “Byakuya, you’re… admittedly, kind of a jerk, but you’re not worthless. No one’s worthless.”

“No one’s worthless,” Byakuya echoed. “You and I had very different upbringings, Makoto.”

“Well, your upbringing was stupid.” Makoto grabbed his hand. “So you need to work on your people skills! Big deal, we can sort that out. You’re… what, fifteen? Sixteen? In the grand scheme of things, you’re a baby.” Makoto ignored Byakuya’s offended gasp. “You’re… smart, and you’re capable, and you’re rich as hell, and… and I can see that you’re a good person, too. Even if you don’t know it.”

“I make my brand on being a bad person. It would reflect poorly upon me to have that particular secret get out.”

When Makoto laughed, he laughed with his whole body. He tipped back his head and allowed himself to let go. It was, in all honesty, enchanting. “Right, right. It’s safe with me, don’t worry. Uh, speaking of secrets… who is it?”

“Who is what?”

“The classmate? The one who you like?”  

“That’s hardly relevant information, you have no reason to need to know that.”  

“How about because we’re friends and I’m curious?”

“What happened to respecting privacy?” Again, Byakuya was surprised how easy it was with Makoto. No matter the tone of the conversation, he felt like anything he said would be right. It was as if he’d been talking to him for years.

“Oh, shoot, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Aha, see? I’ve trapped you in a web of your own design! That’s the problem with going toe to toe with a Togami, Makoto. You simply aren’t quick enough to escape with your life.”

There was that laugh again. “Can I say something weird?”

“You have proven in the last few weeks that you very much can.”

Makoto flashed him an unimpressed look. “May I say something weird?”

“Yes, thank you.” Byakuya smiled (whether it was to annoy Makoto further or just because he felt like smiling, he wasn’t sure). “What is it?”

“You’re like… funny. Not that you weren’t always funny, but now it feels less like I’m the butt of the joke, so it’s… better, I guess? It’s like you’re… I don’t know.”

Byakuya felt oddly touched. It was a stupid thing to get emotional over, but it was still the kindest thing anyone had called him since coming here (not to mention, it came from Makoto). “Thank you. For what it’s worth, you’re a surprisingly good conversationalist, although I… sort of knew that from a while ago, I’ve just been rude about it. Which, now that I say it, should probably be the name of my autobiography.”

Makoto snorted (that wasn’t supposed to be cute. Byakuya was not supposed to find that cute). “Thank you. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, thank you is the proper-”

“Shut up.” Makoto’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. I just told Byakuya Togami to shut up.”

“It’ll be the last time you do,” Byakuya said, trying to maintain an air of distain (despite, strangely, not being angry in the slightest).

They talked for a short while longer. Eventually, they agreed to pick it up tomorrow, and Byakuya went back to his room.

Damn. This was… unexpected. He had a friend. A real friend, who didn’t care that he was an asshole. Who wanted him to be better. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Maybe it was both, or neither, or some combination of the two. It brought a smile to his face, though, so he figured it was, for the time being, worth it.

Of course, he woke up the next morning and immediately panicked. He didn’t come down for breakfast (which, while normal, hadn’t necessarily been his plan the night before), instead spending the morning pacing through the halls of the fourth floor. Makoto found him in the chem lab, looking through the bottles. Of course he did.

“Hey! You, uh… you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just… you didn’t eat breakfast with us, and you weren’t in the library, and I sort of got worried.”

He sighed, turning to face Makoto. “Your concern is… appreciated, however, I’m just fine. Was there something you needed?”

Makoto seemed almost surprised. “No, I’m… I don’t need anything; I was just checking up on you. I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“You didn’t.” This was awkward, right? It was definitely awkward. “I, uh… look, I apologize if I’m being rude.”

“Oh!” Makoto shook his head. “No, no, you’re not being rude. Maybe a little curt? But that’s okay, I don’t- you’re not bothering me.”

Byakuya snorted. “Speak slower. It’s not a contest. I’ve found it’s far easier to get your thoughts out when you take the time to order them before you speak.”

“Oh. Uh… thanks?” Makoto laughed. “Sorry, I’m kind of nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

Makoto averted his gaze, flushing. “Well, we’re in a room with a bunch of poisons, for starters.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to poison you, Makoto, you shouldn’t be worried about that.”

“I’m not!” Byakuya stared at him. “Okay. I am, a little bit. But you aren’t?”

“It’s like I said: You aren’t going to kill me.” Byakuya went back to checking the bottles in the cabinet.

“Is that more of the ‘I can’t be killed, I’m invincible, bow before me’ talk, or…?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I trust you. As much as I trust anyone, that is.” He closed the cabinet with a little more of a slam than intended. “Accept that. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

“Oh. Thanks. I trust you, too.”

Again, warmth swept through Byakuya’s chest, bringing the hint of a smile to his lips. “Thank you.”

Makoto feigned shock. “Did I just get a thank you from Byakuya Togami?” He turned to a security camera. “Are you getting this? This is some next level breaking news if I’ve ever seen it!”

“You’re an absolute idiot.”

“I know, right?” Makoto turned back, grinning. “It’s the most fun, you have to try it some time.”

Byakuya shook his head, doing his best to look disgusted and not in the least bit flustered. “I can’t believe I tolerate this kind of behavior in my presence. The lows to which I have stooped…”

“Aw, c’mon, you know you love me!” His smile was legitimately the cutest thing Byakuya had ever seen. It put puppies to shame.

Makoto’s words suddenly caught up to him. Oh no oh no oh no- “I do not.”

“Ooh, convincing!”

“To explain myself would be wasting my breath on something I find ridiculous. Is that how you people choose to spend your time?”

Makoto bit his lip. “Are we joking, or are you actually upset with me?”

“I’m… no, I’m not upset with you.” His chest was filled with so much nearly painful emotion that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but he wasn’t upset with him.

“Okay, cool!” Makoto finally took a closer look at the shelves behind him. “So, this side has poisons, and this side has… what, medicines and stuff?”

“Not quite.” Byakuya explained the setup of the cabinets, trying to keep a note of condescension out of his voice (honestly, how did this guy pass grade school?). To his credit, Makoto seemed to genuinely listen to and absorb the information. There was something joyful about how he learned, as though he were excited simply by the prospect of expanding the amount of knowledge in his head. It was, admittedly, cute. Not that Byakuya would tell him that.

By the time he was finished explaining, the others had crowded into the room. Byakuya bristled when he saw Kyoko file in, but she just offered him a smile and said nothing.

The group began to have some pointless conversation or another, but Byakuya found himself understandably distracted. He was, it appeared, being forced to come to terms with the fact that he really liked Makoto Naegi. A lot. That was… inconvenient, to say the least. Worse still was the fact that, against all better judgement, he really, really didn’t want to stop liking him. Of course, that couldn’t affect his decision making long-term. Eventually, this… whatever this was that he was doing with Makoto had to end. He did intend to escape, after all.

That thought sat bitter in the back of his throat. The idea of escape had been exciting to him. Granted, he’d always figured he’d wait until there were only a couple of students left (and, hopefully, until Kyoko was gone), but it had still been something to look forward to. Now…

Now he wasn’t sure if he could kill at all. Especially knowing that his survival and Makoto’s were directly contradictory. God, he really was going soft. He had the ridiculous urge to laugh and ruffle Makoto’s hair (what would touching that ahoge do to it? Byakuya found it an endlessly fascinating train of thought), crack a joke about how he’d ruined him, and see if they couldn’t find a way around Monokuma’s window plates and locked doors. He didn’t, of course – such a thing would be unbecoming for a member of the Togami line – but he wanted to.

He had to break this, didn’t he? That would be hard, and maybe he could take time before he did it, but it was lose Makoto or lose his life. That couldn’t be a contest.

Byakuya spent the rest of the day looking through the school. He entered the large concert hall, unsure why he was surprised to see it there, and sat down on a chair, staring at the large piano center stage. He’d learned to play years ago, and absently wondered if he still remembered. Not that he’d play here, anyway—he didn’t want a fellow student to walk in and hear him.

Still. Maybe it would be nice to brush up on his skills when he was sure no one would intrude. Maybe during the night, as risky as that sounded.

In the end, he left the piano untouched. If you caught him in a good mood, maybe he’d tell you that he wouldn’t mind playing for certain people, if they were willing to listen. If he was tired enough, he might have even let spill the long and frankly disgustingly soft fantasy he’d concocted in his mind in which he played a piece for Makoto (presumably some variety of love song, although even he didn’t entertain himself enough to think up any concrete picks), sweeping him clean off his feet and carrying him away to some lavish mansion where they could live out their days, free from bears and classmates and family. But, as it turned out, Byakuya was very rarely in either of those moods.

Come lunch, he returned to his place in the library. He wasn’t sure if Makoto was going to eat there, but he figured it was as safe a bet as any (plus, if he did come, there was no way he could accuse Byakuya of looking for him). When the door did open, however, it wasn’t the face he was looking for.

“O-oh! Sorry, I d-didn’t expect to see you here.” Toko’s face dusted bright pink.

“We both know that’s a lie. Dishonesty isn’t a good look on you.” Byakuya considered. “Not that anything is.”

He needed to learn to stop insulting her, because it really only seemed to feed her interest. She took a step closer, practically drooling (Byakuya wanted to run and hide every expensive suit he’d ever owned). “I-I’m sorry, I’m… I’m just so disgusting, y-you probably don’t want to be a-around me, huh?”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Byakuya returned to his book. Toko, infuriatingly, stayed there, shuffling her feet. “Alright, I’ll bite. Was there something you needed?”

“J-just being in your presence is enough, Master…”

If Byakuya had ever entertained the thought of having a dominant streak, this was making him seriously reconsider. Just hearing the word slip past her lips, dripping with desire and what she probably thought was seduction, made him almost physically ill. “Well, being in your presence makes me want to find the nearest bathroom and wash my hands.”

“B-but you haven’t… touched me…”

“Okay, nope!” Byakuya stood up. “That’s… nope, too much for me today, I’m done, I can’t, when I do decide to become the blackened you are high on my list, goodbye.” He marched past her, ignoring her offended (and, in all honesty, slightly flustered) sputtering, and left the room, ramming directly into Makoto as he tried to come in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m quite alright.” Byakuya dusted himself off, straightening his jacket with all the grace he could muster. “In fact, I think I would like to be quite alright elsewhere.”

“What are you- oh.” Makoto had followed Byakuya’s line of sight to where Toko stood, still staring at the seat where Byakuya had been, breathing steadily quickening. “Okay, yep, leaving now. Wanna come back to my room?”

“Makoto, please believe me when I say that I would go with you into the incinerator at this point.”

“Got it. Follow me, okay?” He offered a soft smile, followed by his hand. Oh. Byakuya swallowed hard and shoved his hands in his pocket.

“As if I’d deign to touch someone like you. When was the last time you washed your hands?”

Makoto’s smile faded, but he brushed it off with what was clearly a forced laugh. “Sorry, Byakuya. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I suppose I can forgive you, just this once. Don’t let it happen again.” As Byakuya spoke, he fell in step with Makoto, walking with him to his room. He could hear Toko realize that he’d left, crying out for him but (thankfully) not moving to chase.

When they reached Makoto’s room, Byakuya all but dragged him in by his sleeve, slamming the door behind him. “I,” he said, hand still pressed against the door, “am incomprehensibly tired of her.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Makoto leaned back onto the heels of his feet. “You are kind of awful to her, though.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Hasn’t she earned that kind of treatment?”

“I mean, sure, but that’s big coming from the guy who complains about people not liking them after he calls them disgusting and refuses to touch them.”

Byakuya winced. “Ah. Yes. I am… that was perhaps something of an oversight on my part. I don’t generally like touching people.”

“That’s fine, but you could’ve just said that.” Makoto shook his head. “Never mind. Point is, you can’t bully Toko and not expect it to make things worse.”

“Oh, I know. She seems to actually enjoy it, which is distressing to say the least.”

“That’s-” Makoto closed his eyes. “Okay, yeah, that’s kind of gross, but that’s not my point, either. Toko already has terrible self-esteem, and if you want to be on her good side, I’d say… I dunno, maybe try building her up?”

“I do not want to be on her good side.”

“I thought you wanted friends,” Makoto countered.

For some reason, this pissed Byakuya off. “I don’t. As I’ve explained to you, forming attachments will make things difficult.”

“…Things?” Makoto seemed genuinely confused.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “I do plan on getting out of here some time, you know.” Better for Makoto to understand than to be deluded into thinking whatever they had was permanent.

Makoto took a step back. “You don’t mean that, right? We’re going to find a way out of here together.”

Stupid. Makoto was so, so stupid. “Right. Together, like we were planning on doing back when there were fifteen of us? Or twelve? Why is seven any different?”

“It’s like Hiro said. We’re not going to start killing each other again.” Makoto smiled softly. “We’re friends now.”

Byakuya felt himself snap, but he pooled the rage in his throat into a scoff instead of voicing it. He stared at the door instead of Makoto, blood roaring in his ears. “You honestly think anyone would agree to that? To ending the game, working together, escaping as friends? We’ve tried that. Every single time, we agree not to murder again, we promise to be good, and then we find a fresh corpse. And every time we find that corpse, someone asks ‘how could someone do this? How could someone murder a fellow student? How could someone have so little respect for human life?’ God knows I’ve gotten it from all of you. How could someone tamper with the crime scene, why would you do that, don’t you have a soul, I’ve heard it all, Makoto. Perhaps you all need to wake up and accept that, ultimately, we are selfish. We are in it for ourselves. The fact that I’m more open about it gets me in trouble, yes, but it’s ultimately the same.” It was the same when it was family, so why on Earth should it be any different for people who barely considered him a friend? “So, yes, at some point I will kill someone. It won’t be any time soon, and… and I hope you believe me when I say that I will do my best to be sure it won’t be you… but it will happen. And I will probably, shamefully, live with that guilt for the rest of my life, but I know guilt. I know how to move past that. You all will be left wondering how someone could do this, and I… I will be moving forward. With or without the rest of you.”

When Makoto spoke again, his voice was small. “And… and if someone kills you first?”

“Not an option.”

“Why not?”

“It simply isn’t. I’m Byakuya Togami.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m not sure what it means.”

Byakuya sighed, turning again to face Makoto. “It means, put as simply as possible, that I will not die here. I refuse to. I am still infallible; no matter how few people believe it. I don’t get things wrong, I don’t show weakness when I don’t want to, and I don’t lose. For example, one day, I will watch all of you die. And, when that day comes, I-” Byakuya felt his breath fail him. He closed his eyes, frustrated with himself. “While I won’t enjoy it, I will survive it, because I am Byakuya Togami. I will watch you die, Makoto, and I will move past it. Understood?”

Makoto had backed up against the wall. Byakuya’s chest ached to see him scared like that, but he didn’t reject the ache. Instead, he relished it, willing it to hurt harder. Maybe then he could let it eat away at all the other weakness – the guilt and pain and fear – and leave him with the emptiness to do what, ultimately, he knew he had to do.

He couldn’t let one student with a useless talent get in his way.

“I can’t figure you out.” Makoto spoke with more confidence than he seemed to feel.

“What’s to figure out?”

“Last night, and… hell, even just now… I don’t know, you seemed better. Nicer. More human, maybe? But suddenly, it’s like we’ve never spoken. Like we’re back to square one. I just want to know why.” He didn’t sound scared anymore, but he sounded hurt. Byakuya knew it was a cruel thought, but he almost liked knowing that Makoto cared that much about what he thought of him.

“Maybe I changed my mind. Is that a problem?”

“Well… yeah, actually. I thought we were friends.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes (in part to sell his annoyance and in part so he didn’t have to look at Makoto). “I speak to you once with an ounce more dignity and respect than you deserve, and… what, you’re ready to declare ourselves besties? Stay up late giggling and making friendship bracelets like schoolgirls? Make no mistake, Makoto: We are not friends. If I speak to you in a time of stress, it is because you are the least likely to turn me away or laugh in my face.” Byakuya moved past Makoto for the door. Maybe he could finally walk away the victor this time.

“I don’t believe you.”

Byakuya stopped. “You what?”

“I think you’re lying.”

He turned around, eyes flashing while he struggled to keep his tone level. “About what, exactly?”

“I think you’re scared.” Makoto was eerily confident, voice steady and stance firm. “I think you’re scared of letting me know you’re not the untouchable god you’re so desperate to have everyone believe you are. I think you’re scared of being weak-”

Byakuya didn’t let him finish the sentence. In two steps, he was directly in front of Makoto. In one fluid motion, he’d shoved him, forcing him to stumble and fall onto the carpet. “I am not weak,” he hissed. “You are weak. All of you. Weak, and stupid, and pointless in the grand scheme of things. It makes me sick to look at you.” It did. Probably not in the way it should’ve. “You will never amount to anything, and I don’t know why I bothered to speak to you in the first place. It won’t be a mistake I make again.”

Makoto stared him dead in the eye, expression darkening. He looked angry, angrier than Byakuya had ever seen him. “Fine. Do it. Leave, go back into hiding. Tell yourself that you’re anything more than a coward.”

Byakuya stiffened. Then, with all the grace he could muster, he left the room.

He didn’t speak to Makoto again. Not when he heard about Sakura being the traitor (although he seethed at the fact that Makoto hadn’t told him), not in the days that followed (although being in the room with him at breakfast was pure torture), and not when he learned of Sakura’s death. Of course, his regrettable weakness for watching Makoto work left him unable to avoid interacting with him a little – leading him to the clues, hinting at Hina’s obvious involvement, while keeping the line between professional work and personal relationship clear. Makoto, however, seemed all too happy to try and breach that line.

“Uh, hey, Byakuya?”

“What is it?”

“Are we gonna talk about what happened in my room?”

“No. I think we both said what we wanted to say.” On a hunch, Byakuya swiped the bottle of poison from the shelf in the chem lab and pocketed it. He had an idea.

“I haven’t. I never apologized.”

“You shouldn’t apologize. You meant to hurt me, didn’t you?”

“I… well, yeah, kind of, but-”

“Then,” Byakuya interrupted, “you should be proud. You manipulated the situation to fit your needs. You got what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want you to be angry at me.”

“Rest assured, I couldn’t care less about that conversation. You didn’t affect me at all.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” Makoto pressed.

“I realized that speaking to you gave you the impression that I cared about you. I wished to make it clearer. You’re welcome.” God, he was a liar. Byakuya Togami was a liar.

“I still don’t believe you.”

“You still should.” Byakuya gave him a sympathetic half-smile, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t feel like he could (especially considering that it was, ultimately, a vague and empty threat).

“Okay.”

Byakuya wanted to smack him. “Again with the okay? How do you just… take everything that comes your way? You can say no from time to time.”

“I just don’t want you to be angrier than you already are.” He was calm. It grated on Byakuya.

“No, Makoto, it’s a bad idea.” Frustrated, he began pacing. “I’m… I’m treating you like garbage, and you’re just going to take it? Grin and bear it because you think that’s what I want? That’s a fantastic way to get hurt, so if you were going for that, congratulations, but otherwise, goddamnit, argue. Plead your case. You’re so good at it.”

“See, Byakuya, I’m no expert on human emotion…” he crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the wall. “But that sounds an awful lot like a person who cares what happens to me.”

Byakuya opened his mouth to respond, but found himself coming up empty-handed. Damnit. Makoto was (he never thought he’d say this) too smart. After too long of a pause, he forced himself to roll his eyes and laugh. “It’s simply irritating. That’s all. It’s not my fault if you’re too thickheaded to realize it. If it bothers you, then I’ve done my job.”

“Mhm. Okay, Byakuya. I’m going to stop bothering you, because I want to, but if you need anything…” Makoto made a vague gesture that could’ve meant anything from “you know where to find me” to “why are you such a gay disaster”.

Come trial time, Byakuya felt almost okay. He may have been a useless, slimy, sorry excuse for a human being, but he was still himself. He’d solved the case in no time at all. If he wasn’t a particularly emotionally healthy person, maybe that could be okay. He would eat his own left foot before he guessed that anyone in his family ever had a grasp on their emotional health, and they were all doing just fine.

And the trial was, as always, enjoyable. It was difficult, letting them run around in circles like this while he knew who the real killer was, but it was necessary. If it was over too quickly, it wouldn’t be any fun.

If knowing that Hina had been the one to kill Sakura sent pain through his chest, it was no one’s business but his own. He’d seen the way the two of them looked at each other, but it was as he said: No one was selfless. In the end, you use the resources you have to get the result you want. Hina had just been too careless.

There are moments in life that seem perfectly ordinary, only for you to look back on them as life-altering events. The last time he spoke to his parents before leaving for Hope’s Peak. The moment that he first started playing around with the stock market. The day he met Makoto Naegi. In the moment, he hadn’t been thinking about anything in particular, but now, he looked back and could remember in startling clarity every second of them.

And then, there are moments that you know you will never forget. The first time his father told him that he was proud of him. The last time he did (and it had been clear that it would be the last time). The exact split second that he realized he liked Makoto, or that he didn’t like girls. And, as it turned out, the slow, creeping sense of horror building in the pit of his stomach as he realized that, defying all odds, he was wrong.

It didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be. He was Byakuya Togami, damnit, he didn’t fail, he didn’t make mistakes, he didn’t lose. And yet, here were Makoto and Kyoko, swapping stories and piecing together the evidence while Byakuya felt the age-old cracks driven into his skin widen and split.

He couldn’t take in air properly. He forced himself to stay standing, even when all he wanted to do was run. He wasn’t supposed to run. He was Byakuya Togami. He was Byakuya Togami.

It seemed like such a stupid thing to get worked up about. He was certain that, from the outside, it looked that way. But he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He wasn’t supposed to be a failure, and he was failing. He was disappointing his family. He was disappointing the people around him (would he ever be able to call them friends? Did he deserve that luxury?) He was disappointing Makoto, unable to keep his composure in a professional setting, useless, unnecessary, a weak, powerless, goddamn waste of space-

Everything passed in a blur. It was all too bright too loud too fast, but he barely registered any of it. The computer was destroyed. Monokuma read out Sakura’s dying message. Hina’s sobs echoed through the courtroom. Maybe he said something. Maybe he didn’t. He was a silent observer, watching a scene play out on a screen that he couldn’t look away from. But he didn’t cry.

He wasn’t sure when he decided that he was done. It might have been the look on Makoto’s face, or the ringing in his ears, or the resolve in his heart to tear everything that goddamn bear had ever made apart and burn it to the ground. Or, maybe, selfishly, it was that he didn’t want the focus to be on his failure. Either way, the game was no longer fun. He was done with it.

The look on Makoto’s face when he renounced his place in the game was almost enough to lift his spirits. Almost.

He stayed in the hallways long after the nighttime announcement had gone off. He didn’t have a set destination in mind, he just walked, the click of his shoes against the ground almost too much to bear.

He knew who he was. He knew how people felt about him. Sure, that got difficult, but it meant he had control. He was always in control. He knew how to manipulate any situation, and he always got what he wanted. He’d been taught to do that. He’d been forced to do that. It was how he’d stayed alive, stayed on top. It was how he’d gotten into this school.

But if he wasn’t perfect, was any of that true? Who was he? He couldn’t help but feel like a liar every time he thought of himself as a Togami. A Togami was worth something, and he’d just lost the only advantage he had over anyone else. He wondered if he could hop aboard the Yasuhiro train. There were enough of them already that it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

What would his family say? Not only to see him fail, but to see him so unable to move past it. He couldn’t just stand up and move on. He wasn’t strong enough.

Waste of space. The first time anyone had called him that, he wasn’t old enough to understand what it meant. In the years that followed, though, he learned it plenty well. It was an embarrassment. Something that didn’t serve a purpose. Something that got in everyone’s way. If you didn’t serve a purpose, you were cast aside. In his family, in real life, in this game… it always held true. Always.

Byakuya was so scared of being cast aside.

He knew where his feet were leading him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do or say, but he felt so soul-crushingly alone and he couldn’t handle it. Of course he couldn’t. Why would he be able to? He didn’t seem to be capable of doing much of anything these days.

“Byakuya? It’s… really late, are you okay?” Makoto stood at the door, clearly half-asleep. He caught a glimpse of Byakuya’s face and his brow creased in concern. “Oh. You, uh… you wanna talk about it?” Byakuya must have made a worse face than before, because Makoto backpedaled. “You don’t have to, if you want to just… I don’t know, come inside, and sit in silence, or talk about something else, that’s fine, whatever… whatever you need, I’m sorry, I’m really tired…”

“That’s… I apologize. I will leave you to sleep.” Byakuya moved to leave, feeling suddenly awful. Of course Makoto was trying to get some rest.

“Hey, no!” Makoto grabbed his arm. Byakuya had the immediate instinct to pull away, maybe say something about cleanliness, but he just stood, frozen still, staring at Makoto. “Come in. Please.”

Byakuya pursed his lips, before nodding stiffly and stepping inside. “So. I assume you know what this is about.”

“Uh… no, not really.” Makoto sat down on the bed, indicating for Byakuya to do the same. He did.

“Honestly? I don’t know why I’m surprised that an imbecile like yourself…” he trailed off. If Makoto, who solved the mystery every time without fail, was an imbecile, what did that make him? “Never mind.”

“Not finishing an insult? A-are you sick or something?” Makoto tried for a joke, but when Byakuya didn’t so much as crack a smile, he sobered somewhat. “Okay. Like I said, you don’t have to tell me, but if you want to, I’m listening. That’s all.”

“It’s about tonight’s trial.”

“Oh, yeah. That was… kind of a flip for you, huh?”

“Pardon?” So he did notice.

“I mean, not participating in the killing game anymore… that took guts, I gotta say.”

Byakuya waved his hand. “Oh. Not that. That choice caused me no distress. The game was no longer enjoyable, so I decided to duck out.”

“O…okay… but, if you’re not upset about that, then what’s wrong?”

Byakuya bristled. “Are you mocking me?”

“Sorry?”

“You know what happened, everyone saw it. You’re either making a joke at my expense, which I refuse to tolerate, or you’re severely lacking in brain cells. Which is it?”

“Uh… neither? I think? I’m not dumb, I just-”

“Oh, please, I know you’re dumb. I’m just wondering if you’re entirely brain-dead, or just a physically underdeveloped himbo.”

“I- wait.” Makoto stared at him, eyes widening slowly.

“Hm?”

“Where on Earth did you get himbo from?”

Byakuya felt his face flush. “Oh. Uh… Leon, actually. He said it was traditionally someone who was… ‘dumb, hot, strong, and polite’, I believe? That’s three out of four, which, I suppose, is the best a commoner like yourself could hope to achieve.”

A grin slowly spread across Makoto’s face. “Aw, you think I’m hot?”

Oh, no. “Believe me, Makoto, if I were to call you hot, you’d know it.” Oops. That sounded less demeaning and more flirtatious. He didn’t back down, instead offering him a slight smile and acting like nothing had happened. In the time Byakuya had known him, he’d learned that Makoto had a startling ability to turn very pink very fast. The rule held true here.

“O-okay, this is not related to the trial. Or to you calling me dumb.”

“If you’re going to get offended every time I insult someone, this is going to be an extremely long night.” Byakuya shifted uncomfortably. “And… I don’t. Necessarily. Mean it as harshly as I say it. Always.”

Makoto nudged him. “You’re such a sweetheart.” He schooled his expression into something more serious. “Okay. Byakuya. Tell me what’s on your mind. Pretend it’s a friend, hide details, say it as condescendingly as you want, but tell me.”

“What happened to ‘you don’t have to say anything you’re uncomfortable with’?” Byakuya was stalling, and both of them knew it.

“I got curious. C’mon, I promise I won’t judge or whatever.”

“Well, I believe that, at least.” Byakuya sighed. “Alright. I… well, you saw. I was wrong.”

Makoto blinked. “Uh, yeah. You were. What’s your point?”

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Makoto, I got it wrong. I made a mistake.”

“I was there. I remember. You seemed kind of upset, but… I don’t get it, I guess? It’s not that big of a deal, I’m wrong all the time. Hell, I thought you murdered someone for a while!”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because you’re perfect?”

“Yes!” Byakuya felt his panic rising again. “Because I have to be. I’m supposed to be. That’s how it is, and that’s how it’s always been, and if that doesn’t hold true in here then…”

“I don’t understand, Byakuya. All of us make mistakes! No one’s judging you for it!”

“That doesn’t matter. That’s not the problem, it’s just…” He shook his head. “I’m not… I refuse to be a detriment to the rest of the group. You all have built a life on trying, and failing, and trying again, but I have built a life on perfection. That’s what I have. I can’t… I won’t be a disappointment. To anyone.”

“Okay, I think you’re taking this way too hard.” Makoto grabbed Byakuya’s hand with both of his. Makoto’s fingers were rough, but somehow comforting. Warm. Byakuya wanted to die. “You’re not a disappointment, and you’re not a detriment… well, actually, you’ve kind of made things harder in almost every trial you’ve gotten involved in, but you’re really good at solving cases!”

“You can get as many perfect scores as you want, but they don’t change the grade when you fail.” Byakuya was sure someone else had said that, but he almost didn’t want to think back far enough to remember their name. Maybe a sibling, or a parent.

“Yeah, but perfect scores still bring up the overall grade, right?”

“It’s a bad metaphor.”

“Actually, I think it’s a pretty good one!” Makoto had taken to actually fiddling with Byakuya’s hand – squishing the skin where his finger joints were, in the gentlest way possible – and Byakuya had to physically force himself to avoid pulling away in surprise. “Like… okay, so you mess up once. If it brings down your grade, what do you do?”

“Quit the class immediately and tell everyone it was too easy for you?” Byakuya asked hopefully.

Makoto glared at him. “You get some extra credit, make up assignments, see if you can study harder for when the next test rolls around. You work to improve.”

“I did the work. I worked my whole life.”

“Yeah, dumbass, so has everyone. You work, and then you slip up, and then you keep working.”

“But a failure isn’t to be tolerated. That’s how people get fired, Makoto.”

“Good thing this isn’t a job, then! You’re with friends- or, at least, you’re with a friend. Mess up! Say something stupid! Have your head too far up your own ass to realize that Hina was way too in love with Sakura to do anything to hurt her! My point, Byakuya, is that you’re free to make mistakes because you’re with people who like you.”

He snorted. “No I’m not.”

“I like you!” Makoto nudged his shoulder, smiling. “I really do. You’re a jerk, and you’re stupid, and your ego is apparently made of glass, but I like you.”

Byakuya felt his face heat, and he silently raged against his own emotions. “Okay, fine. But you like me because I’m gifted. Because I have worth. I can’t… I can’t lose that worth.”

Makoto looked almost offended. “People don’t lose worth, that’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid!” He was a child. He was an actual child. This was ridiculous. “Makoto, it seems you’re not understanding. I am Byakuya Togami. I am a member of the Togami family. I have competed for my place within that family, and I have come out on top. I have succeeded where everyone else has failed. My siblings? They lost worth, and now they’re gone. Those in my family who survive are a cut above the rest, and always have been, and always will be, and if I don’t match up with that, then I don’t deserve… worth, or my family, or you. If I can’t be what will make my family proud, then I’m-” a waste of space. Those words had been echoing through his head for a while, but it was only now that he allowed the memories attached to them to come to the forefront of his mind. Or perhaps ‘allowed’ wasn’t the right word. He didn’t think he could’ve stopped them if he’d tried.

Age five. His half-sister had shoved him into the dirt. Mud had splattered his clothes, all but ruining them. He’d burst into tears. His sister said he’d tripped. His father believed her.

Age nine. He’d gotten up late one night to get water, and a few dishes had ended up broken. The stabbing of broken glass beneath his fingers as he clumsily tried to pick it all up was almost preferable to the feeling of dread in his stomach when the lights turned on.

Age twelve. He’d had ‘the talk’ for the first time (it was explained to him in a way that even then had seemed too cold, too cruel, more like checking boxes off a list than anything intimate) and had immediately proclaimed that he wasn’t interested in anything like that. It had been a mistake.

He made sure that was the last time.

The words had followed him from the moment he was old enough to understand their meaning. From a failed test grade to a messy room to an eye test that had gone poorly, from the cold clamp of a hand on his shoulder to the laughter of his siblings to the look in his father’s eye when he had done something so irreversibly wrong. A constant reminder: You are replaceable. The moment your value runs out, you are no longer worthy of the air you breathe. We give you the best food and clothes and shelter, and you give us talent and skill and an absence of failure.

“Byakuya? Byakuya!”

“What?” He snapped.

“You’re just shaking.”

Oh. So he was. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Are you okay? Can I touch you?” As something of an afterthought, Makoto pulled his hands away from Byakuya’s. He immediately wanted them back.

“I… I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Makoto…”

“Okay! Okay!” Makoto raised his hands in mock-defeat. “Save that for another conversation, I guess. What can I do?”

You can hold me in your weak noodle arms and kiss me until I don’t feel like shit anymore- “I don’t know. Isn’t that perfect? I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t know the answer to the trial, I don’t know how to be a better person, I don’t know how to make anyone proud. I don’t know how I deluded myself for so long.”

“I’d say talking would help, but you don’t want to, right?”

“As if I’d be interested in talking to you about something so… so trivial.”

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“I-” Byakuya caught himself before saying ‘I don’t know’ again. He wasn’t sure his pride could take it. “My family wasn’t kind. I know that. I know that better than anyone. But they got results, and that was what was important. I am – and, before they failed, my siblings were – among the most gifted people on the planet. But I didn’t fail, and therefore I am above them. I’m not bragging, I’m simply stating facts. Failure meant you were worthless, and worthless meant you weren’t a Togami. Your name may mean one thing or another, but mine… surely you understand, my name means the world to me. To everyone. It’s the best thing about me. And if I lose the meaning behind the name, I lose the name, and I lose my family, and I lose… I lose you. Makoto, you may not understand this – partially because I don’t say it – but you are the only person in this school that I care about, and I will be damned before I lose you.”

Makoto’s eyes were wide. “Byakuya…”

Byakuya put a hand over his cheeks, as though trying to hide his flush. “Shut up. Don’t… just pretend I didn’t say that last part.”

“Got it!” Makoto grinned, before his face sobered somewhat. “Byakuya, you realize everything you just said was bad, right?”

“It’s not bad, it’s just true.”

“Okay, sure. But you got away from that, right? You’re here now. Sure, it’s… sort of a frying pan vs. fire situation, but you don’t have to worry about your family.”

Byakuya recoiled. “Oh, you misunderstand. I don’t have to ‘get away’ from anything, my family wasn’t a negative impact on my life. As I said, my name is the best thing about me, and that’s all because of them.”

“Bullshit!” Makoto grabbed Byakuya and forced him to face him. “The best things about you are… that you have to cover your face when you say something embarrassing, or that you laugh at really stupid jokes and try to pretend that you didn’t, or that when you really smile you light up the whole room. The best thing about you is that, although you try so damn hard to hide it, you care. A lot. And you come into my room and pretend to need my bathroom because you’re too nervous to admit that you’re human. And you’re smart, and funny, and snarky almost to- ah, forget almost, you’re snarky to the point of cruelty, but it’s… I don’t know, it’s still part of you. Your name means nothing here, and I still want to be around you.” He cracked a smile. “You’re supposed to be the cultured one, right? What is it… uh, ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’? Shakespeare gets it!”

“You’re… god, you really are an idiot.” Byakuya was in love. Damnit, he was actually in love.

“Yeah, I know. But you get my point, right? You have value, and it isn’t because you’re a Togami, it’s because you’re Byakuya. And you’re stupid. And you’re my friend.”

“Thank… thank you. For what it’s worth, you’re Makoto and you’re stupider and you’re also my friend.” Byakuya tried for a smile.

Makoto launched himself into Byakuya’s arms as a response. Momentarily frozen, Byakuya could only sit there, every second slowing down into hours. The warmth of Makoto’s arms around him. The breath against Byakuya’s ear. The tickle of his hair against Byakuya’s cheek. Then time caught up and Byakuya returned the gesture, not to be outdone.

“Okay, if you’re in a sharing mood, who’s the girl?”

“What?”

Makoto pulled back. “You… last time, you said you’d developed feelings for someone at the school. There are only so many girls left, so I have to assume… unless it was someone who’s already died?” His eyes widened. “Oh, my god, was it Celeste or something? That would make sense, she’s like… manipulative and stuff, you seem to be into that… that sounds- that sounds bad, I’m sorry, I just… oh, god, and now she’s dead, I shouldn’t have said anything, I- I’m sorry-”

“Makoto!” Byakuya found himself shouting. “It’s not Celeste! I’m fine! Forget I said anything about it!”

“I can’t just forget! If she’s alive, then it’s either Hina – unlikely – or Kyoko- it’s not Kyoko, is it? Because she’s not really… into that, so-”

“It’s not Kyoko.” Relief poured through him. He’d (shamefully, embarrassingly) been agonizing somewhat over the possibility that Kyoko and Makoto were together, but apparently that wasn’t much of a concern.

“Okay, cool! So- wait, no way.”

Byakuya did some quick mental math. “No.”

Makoto was grinning (was he imagining the tightness in his eyes?). “No way! She’s… she’s kind of creepy, but- but if you’re into that-”

“It’s not her, goodness, a blind man could figure out that I don’t like her.”

“Then I’m fresh outta options.” He thought for a moment. “Is it Mukuro Ikusaba?”

“…who’s Mukuro Ikusaba?”

Makoto looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook it off. “Never mind. Okay, so is it someone who’s dead?”

“No!”

“So it’s… but you said it wasn’t any of the living girls?”

“That’s correct, yes.” He should just say it. It was so simple, but… somehow he couldn’t. He didn’t want to be a disappointment in this way, too. Clearly, Makoto didn’t consider it a possibility. It would be a shame to prove his expectations incorrect.

“I… who is it?”

“No one. I made it up.” Liar.

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me, I just…” Makoto seemed to shrink a little. “I feel like there’s something you’re hiding. Sorry.”

“You’re too good of a detective, Naegi.” Byakuya smiled. “I’ll tell you soon. Maybe. If I’m feeling charitable.”

“I’ll take that.” God, he was too cute. Everything he did seemed to specifically exist to wreck Byakuya. “So… favorite color?”

“What?”

“Mine actually was pink for a really long time, but, uh… not anymore. Probably green, now? Or blue, I like blue.”

“Is there… Makoto, what’s the point of this discussion?”

“I don’t want to stop talking to you.” And there it was. The words hung in the air, leaving something implied but unsaid, something that Byakuya couldn’t quite discern. But he was grateful for them, because it meant he didn’t have to be the one to say it.

They didn’t stop talking. Not until late in the night, when Byakuya looked over to see Makoto fighting sleep. He stood up, fixing his sleeve. “You’re exhausted. I should go.”

“Nooooo,” murmured Makoto, “I’m- I’m fine. Come back.”

“You need sleep. It’s been an incredibly stressful day.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll sleep. Stay anyway?” Makoto looked incomprehensibly vulnerable. Byakuya felt his insides twist.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He laid back down, not touching Makoto but so, so close. With a smile, Makoto finally closed his eyes. He looked so peaceful, and soft, and… damnit.

Byakuya got a good night’s sleep for the first time in a long while.

Byakuya woke up with hair in his mouth.

Normally, that wouldn’t be a concern – he had reasonably long hair, after all – but the problem was less with the substance and more with its owner.

At some point during the night, Byakuya had rolled over, slinging his arm around Makoto’s smaller frame. Apparently, Makoto had leaned into it, and they were now practically cuddling on Makoto’s bed. It was disgusting. It was common. It was something done by anyone, anyone but Byakuya Togami.

He didn’t move, except to brush the hair from his mouth. That was gross.

“Byakuya?” Makoto’s voice was slurred with sleep, and he didn’t open his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“We’re still fully dressed. In like, adult clothes.”

“Adult clothes?” Byakuya was bewildered.

“Yeah, like, uh… like the clothes you wear when you’re doing adult stuff. Not like, gross adult stuff, like paperwork.” Makoto opened his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to put his words into order.

“…do you mean that we’re still wearing our clothes from the day before?” This was unfair. This was incredibly, incredibly unfair.

“Yeah, those!” Makoto snuggled closer, interlocking their legs. “You’re in your suit.”

Oh, shoot. “We have to get up.”

“Five more minutes?”

“I… yes, okay, fine, but I need to find my way back to my room and- and change, and make sure no one knows-”

“Why do you care?” Makoto sat up, seeming to have woken up. “No one’s going to judge you for having wrinkles in your suit, it was a rough trial for you.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t want people to know it was rough. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to slip right back into the persona that I’ve become so comfortable with since arriving here.”

“It’s actually not all the same to me. I want you to be happy.”

Byakuya began to fiddle with his tie. “I am happy.”

“Last night begs to differ.”

The tie was perfectly aligned. Not a crease in it. He was still messing with it. “I’m… I’m trying. Alright? Does that make you happy? I will, from this point on, do my best. But I need baby steps right now, and if that doesn’t work for you, then you should probably go.”

“But it’s my room.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Tch. I meant it in the metaphorical sense, but I suppose that physically it would be closer to you kicking me out.”

“I’m not going to kick you out! It just makes me sad to see you treat everyone like…”

“Like they’re living garbage, worth less than the stray flecks of dirt that regrettably find themselves on my shoe from time to time?” Byakuya supplied.

“Well, yeah. I get pushing people away if that’s what you like doing, but if you’re coming to my room at half-past nope when we are literally at a school for murdering each other in the wee hours, you’re clearly not having a good time with it.”

“Like I said, baby steps.” If Byakuya’s smile was a little sheepish, he wouldn’t have admitted it.

“Okay.” Makoto smiled. “Can one of those baby steps be waiting five more minutes before going downstairs to breakfast?”

“God, yes, thank you so much for asking.” Byakuya flopped back down onto the bed, not saying anything when Makoto nestled against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him.

They stayed like that, if Byakuya was being perfectly honest, for a little more than five minutes. By the time Byakuya had gone to his room, changed, and gotten downstairs, everyone was waiting for him (including Makoto, who hadn’t felt like changing at all. Of course).

Byakuya figured this was a baby step. If he’d decided not to participate in the killing game, then it was clearly time to start taking the initiative and helping the group with escape. Part of that involved taking as much of a leadership role as possible. And if part of that meant being… perhaps harsher than necessary to Kyoko, that was hardly his fault and had nothing to do with personal grudges or conversations that may or may not have transpired between the two of them.

Baby step number two (a regrettable but necessary one that Makoto had mentioned while in the room): Be nicer to Toko Fukawa. He didn’t want to encourage her, but even he had to admit there was something pitiful about the girl. She was bothersome, and exhausting, and at times actually frightening, but she was also a fellow student, and according to Makoto, she was clearly severely troubled and ‘needed support’. Or something.

The encouraging smile he got from Makoto when he told her she’d done well wasn’t hurting things, either.

Baby step number three (this one something he’d come up with on his own time): Fix things with Hina. He wasn’t sure if he was tired of the glares from across the room, or if he genuinely wanted to make things better, but either way, he found himself approaching her after breakfast.

“Hina? May we talk?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Hina was gathering plates and putting them into the sink. Hoping it would gain favor with her, Byakuya moved to help (trying very hard not to think about how this was a job for a commoner).

“That’s quite alright with me, I can talk and you can listen.”

Hina, shockingly, didn’t seem to like that proposition. “Or – and this is just a thought – you could fuck right off and leave me alone?”

“I… I would prefer not to, if that’s alright. I have some very important things to discuss with you.”

Hina sighed, putting down a cup and staring at him. “Okay. What do you want?”

“I… god, this really doesn’t get easier, does it? Hina, I apologize for suspecting you for Sakura’s murder. And for suspecting Sakura while she was alive, although, really, I think that was justified, considering-”

“I’m sorry, what’s… are you feeling okay?”

“Please do not interrupt me, I have thought this conversation out very clearly in my head and it doesn’t involve you interrupting me.” Hina shut up. “Wonderful. I’d also like to apologize for… really all of my behavior while here. It was perhaps a bit near-sighted.” Was there anything else? That last one was kind of a catch-all, right? “Alright, I’m done. Do I leave now?”

“No, hold on.” Hina stared at him, as though trying to figure out a puzzle that he couldn’t quite see. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I… no. Should I be?”

“No. I didn’t think you were, but I just wanted to make sure.” Hina adjusted her jacket. “Okay. You’re forgiven.”

“That’s really it?”

“I mean, I’m not going to be your new best friend, but it’s… I mean it’s fine, I’m not gonna punch you again if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Byakuya gave her a look. “You’re fine with me? You’re not still angry?”

She sighed. “Byakuya, you want the truth? I wasn’t losing too much sleep over it. You’re kind of an asshole, okay, but I don’t care enough to take time out of my day hating you. Just try not to treat me like garbage next time we talk, and we’ll be fine.”

“I… I will do my very best.” Hina smiled quickly before going back to washing dishes. Byakuya didn’t feel better. He was supposed to feel better, right? This was supposed to be a clearing of the conscience, and he really had (to a certain extent) felt bad for how he’d been acting, but now he just felt… odd. Hollow. Like the conversation hadn’t gone just right, like it was a barely-concealed lump stuffed hastily under a rug. It didn’t fit right.

“Yeah, it’s not really gonna feel great for a while, especially when it’s with someone you’re not friends with,” said Makoto when Byakuya mentioned it to him. “But, in the end, I like to think it’s worth it!”

Byakuya wanted to believe him. Certainly, Hina had gone from insulting him to just ignoring him, which he took to be a good sign. But something about the realization – she didn’t care – bothered him. He was Byakuya Togami. And he’d been treating Hina like dirt. Why wasn’t she still angry?

Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter much. He still mostly wanted to spend all his time with Makoto, which was distressing. He’d come to terms with the fact that Makoto Naegi did not reciprocate his feelings (the fact that he hadn’t even considered Byakuya being interested in another boy was proof enough of that), but it didn’t make it hurt less. He could try distancing himself again, but he almost felt too guilty to try it. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to never speak to Makoto again, anyway.

Makoto had taken to coming to Byakuya’s room. It was easier, really – Byakuya could change, leave his room without fear of being called out for being in the wrong place – and Makoto hardly seemed to mind. Neither of them said anything about it, but Byakuya was pretty sure they were both grateful for the company. Sleeping alone became almost frightening in the darkened school, where shadows could easily be mistaken for living forms. Having a person beside him, especially one that he (perhaps in a lapse of judgement) trusted, was comforting.

Then, of course, the one night Makoto didn’t show up, things went wrong.

It had all started with Monokuma being broken. Byakuya had been the first to notice that Makoto wasn’t there—mostly because, in times of stress, he looked to Makoto (subconsciously, and not without a healthy level of embarrassment). When he suggested – casually, coolly, without any trace of care in his voice – that they check on him, the others had seemed surprised, but agreed.

Makoto wasn’t answering the door. Why wasn’t he answering the door? Byakuya knocked, and rang the doorbell, and shouted his name (he tried to sound angry or irritated, anything but worried), but he didn’t respond.

“Maybe he’s just a heavy sleeper?” Hiro’s voice made Byakuya want to hit something. Where was Makoto?

“No, he’s not. He can’t sleep through anything.” It was true. Makoto was always a beat away from wakefulness, and Byakuya could barely twitch without waking him up.

“How do you know that?”

“Really not the time, Hina…” Byakuya pounded on the door again. “Makoto, you imbecile, open the damn door!”

“Maybe he’s j-just tired. He always w-was lazy, r-right?” Toko tried, offering Byakuya what he was sure was meant to be a comforting smile.

“Silence,” he snarled. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak.” Makoto would’ve been angry at that. Where was he to tell him off?

“Jeez, a little harsh, huh?” Hina leaned against the door, and Byakuya wanted to scream at her to move, damnit, what if he tries to open the door. “She’s just trying to help.”

“Trying isn’t good enough. Unless she can find a way to stab through the door with that… disgustingly long tongue of hers, she’s useless to me.” He’d worked so hard on being better. But if something had happened to Makoto, did any of it even matter? Was he dead? Byakuya felt himself sicken at the thought. But he didn’t cry.

“I-I’m sorry, Master!” Toko’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I’ll do whatever I c-can to- to fix it!”

“You can shut up.” Was she worse today? Was he worse today? “The rest of you. What do we do?”

“Uh, I dunno man, leave him? See what’s up with Monokuma ourselves, maybe he’ll show up later.” Hiro spoke with a confidence unbefitting someone that was quickly becoming a walking corpse.

“We’re not leaving without Makoto.” Byakuya hated this. He hated that he couldn’t move away from the door, let it go, find him later, but he just couldn’t.

“Byakuya, the best thing – for all of us – is to find out what’s happening to Monokuma. If Makoto’s mixed up in it somehow, we need to find out.”

“Makoto is not the mastermind,” Byakuya said, voice taking an edge that he hadn’t known he possessed. “And you’re all idiots for doubting him.”

“…Byakuya? Are you feeling okay?” Hina touched his arm, and he almost shoved her to the floor.

“Don’t touch me without my permission. And I’m fine. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Toko’s breathing was steadily increasing, and he recognized her shrinking in on herself in fear. In the back of his head, Byakuya told himself to calm down and stop making threatening gestures before he triggered a switch (Genocide Jill, he’d found, often came out when Toko felt she was in danger). Mostly, though, he was wondering if Makoto had been stabbed through the abdomen (bleeding out slowly, sight dimming, welcoming the end of the pain seconds before the end of everything), or poisoned (gasping and choking as his lungs failed him and he choked on his own blood), or crushed under something heavy (unable to take in air, feeling shards of his ribs puncturing his heart, finally closing his eyes and wishing fervently that someone would save him). Helpless. Alone.

If Byakuya had been there, he would’ve been safe. He would have protected him.

It was his fault.

Byakuya let the others take him back downstairs. He made a comment about how deeply irritating it was for Makoto to ignore them like that, how he wondered if he’d gone and gotten himself killed after all. Hiro called him heartless. Hina looked disappointed, murmuring something about how he’d almost seemed better. He didn’t care.

He oversaw the taking apart of Monokuma, privately wishing that he didn’t have to be there in the first place. He wanted to go to Makoto’s room, force the door open, and either find his corpse (because then at least he’d know) or find Makoto alive and slap him for worrying him. Or kiss him for being okay. Byakuya hadn’t decided yet.

“Guys, what are you doing?”

Apparently, he had to decide much quicker than he thought.

Makoto looked terrible (well, Byakuya quickly amended, he looked insufferably cute, but also tired and sweaty and pale). He was still wearing his clothes from the day before, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He was staring at them as though they’d personally offended him. Still, Byakuya thought that he had never been so relieved to see another human being in his entire life. It took every inch of self-restraint he had in him to keep from running over and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, reputation be damned.

Instead, he scoffed. “Where could you possibly have been? We looked all over for you.”

“I was asleep, actually. I think I had a fever, it was…” He looked around. “Hey, where’s Kyoko?”

Byakuya tuned out the rest of the conversation, focusing on Makoto. He wanted (ridiculously) to know if he was feeling better now. He had the odd instinct to place a hand on his forehead, check if he was still sick. It was unbefitting of the heir to the Togami line, but, then, so were many of Byakuya’s actions these days.

Really, though, he wasn’t too concerned until Jill returned from the garden, speaking with what even he acknowledged was a ridiculous lack of respect about a corpse. Then he started getting nervous.

Everything happened in a blur. They found the body, Jill nearly got herself killed (Byakuya was, much to his chagrin, actually sort of worried for her), and, after a short amount of time, the investigation began. Byakuya sought out Makoto immediately, telling the others that they’d find which door the key they’d found on the body opened in a moment.

“Makoto. We need to talk.”

Makoto straightened, looking vaguely nervous. “Uh, listen, Byakuya-”

“Don’t say anything that might incriminate you. Just… please, give me a reason to think it’s someone else.” His breath quickened, but he tried to hide it. “If you… if you think that, by hiding information, you’re protecting Kyoko, you shouldn’t. We’ll catch her, no matter what.”

“You don’t know it’s her. She could be the victim.”

“Yes, I do.” Byakuya grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. “Makoto, you didn’t do it. Right?”

“No!” Makoto squeezed back. “I didn’t kill her; I was sick in bed.”

“That’s not…” Byakuya ran his free hand through his hair. “Look at it from my point of view, alright? You don’t come to my room for the first time since the last trial. You don’t respond to knocking on your door. I am with nearly all of the remaining classmates for the entire night, leaving them with irrefutable alibis, and a student is found with a knife in her chest that was in your quarters. Just give me something.”

“I wouldn’t leave you to die.”

Byakuya froze. “What?”

Makoto wouldn’t look at him. “I know the evidence looks bad. And, honestly, I can’t make it look better. I have no alibi that’s supported by anyone but myself, and I don’t know how the killer got in my room to get the knife. But I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t kill someone and let you die.” He flushed. “Any of you, I mean. Not… not you, specifically, just the general you. Obviously.” Nervous chuckle. “I know this isn’t really helping my case much.”

Byakuya sighed, unable to be angry. “You’re right, it isn’t. But I believe you, for whatever that’s worth. I’ll do whatever I can to prove your innocence. Keep with me, alright? Two heads are better than one, no matter the content of those heads.” Translation: I don’t want you to go missing again.

Makoto seemed to get it, because he smiled and nodded. “Of course!”

Byakuya and Makoto met up with the rest of the group, and together they used the key to unlock the data lab.

The revelations in the lab were ones that, for the first time in a while, genuinely puzzled Byakuya. He just couldn’t understand how, after maybe a month of being stuck there, the show was still airing. Surely there was someone in the outside world competent enough to regain control of the airwaves, or shut the channel down if it came to that. More importantly, if everything that happened was being shown to the public, where was the rescue mission? Byakuya was certain his family would’ve come by now, and there wasn’t a force alive that could stop the Togami family from getting what it wanted. Why were they still trapped?

“Do you think you’re a fan favorite?” Makoto tried for a joke.

Byakuya humored him with a half-smile. “I’m sure I’m a polarizing character, but I figure I’ve got my fair share of fans. I’m quite certain everyone likes you.”

Makoto turned a faint shade of pink. “Thanks.”

“Not a compliment, just the truth.” Byakuya glanced up at a camera, as if to say ‘it should be the truth, anyway’. If people really were watching this show, he might as well let them know that he wasn’t impressed by them.

Especially after all that, the investigation felt tense. Byakuya kept glancing at Makoto, telling himself he was checking to see if he was feeling any better but subconsciously looking for tightness at his eyes, a smile that felt too false, anything that indicated discomfort. He didn’t want to believe Makoto was lying to him, but he just didn’t know. It was driving him half-mad.

By the time the trial hit, Byakuya was terrified. He didn’t show it, murmuring a cold encouragement to Makoto as they entered the elevator before moving away to stand at his usual position, but his heart was beating so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. He had nothing. He had no evidence that proved it wasn’t Makoto. He had a few things he could try, a few details that didn’t quite fit, but that was it. Kyoko coming back was the only thing keeping him from despairing. Good thing, too—despair was a dangerous thing, especially in the school.

There was nothing fun about the trial, although from looking at Byakuya nobody would think it. He was realizing that, if the whole ‘taking over the incredibly rich and powerful family’s business’ thing didn’t work out, he’d be a stellar actor. He kept all of his tension and fear in his left pinky, tapping it furiously against his stand whenever anything happened.

It wasn’t Kyoko. It couldn’t be Kyoko. She couldn’t have taken the knife, she couldn’t have gotten into the locked room to put down the evidence, she couldn’t have done any of it, because Byakuya had taken her keys and set up Makoto’s failure. Makoto, who had killed someone. Makoto, who was willing to sacrifice all of them to escape. Makoto, who had lied to him.

Byakuya stared at him from across the circle, no longer caring if anyone noticed. He looked confused, concerned, maybe a little nervous, but… but not guilty. Even in that moment, he still looked like he hadn’t done anything wrong. Byakuya felt his lips tighten. He’d trusted him. Had he really been that good of a liar all along?

Byakuya had warned himself against this, hadn’t he? He’d known that growing attached to someone at this school was nothing more than a hazard. But he’d trusted him. Because he was stupid. And weak. And too soft for his or his family’s own good. What would your father say?

It came time to vote and he still hadn’t proved Makoto’s innocence. He wanted to beg for more time, scream at Monokuma until he agreed that of course Makoto wasn’t the killer, but it was like he was watching everything through thick glass. Nothing was real, there was a disconnect between what was happening and where his mind was. He stared at the lever, willing his hands to move. He wanted to stay alive. Makoto was the only remaining viable suspect. Vote for Makoto. Vote for Makoto.

“I wouldn’t leave you to die.”

Byakuya pulled the lever over to Kyoko Kirigiri and entered it in.

“All right!” Out of the corner of his eye, Byakuya saw Hina flinch at Monokuma’s voice. “The vote is in! In a unanimous decision, the students of Hope’s Peak Academy find Makoto Naegi guilty for the murder of Mukuro Ikusaba!”

“Wait- unanimous?” Byakuya found himself speaking up, voice steady despite how much he was shaking. “You… that can’t be right.” He noticed Makoto looking at him with an expression he didn’t have the time or energy to decipher because oh god Makoto was going to die.

“Hmm, nope! Pretty sure I got it right!” Byakuya opened his mouth to argue, but the conversation was moving away from him too quickly to get a word in.

“Wait, did we get it right? Is Makoto the killer?”

“Oh!” Monokuma seemed almost surprised, as though he’d forgotten. “Yep! One hundred percent correct! Makoto killed Mukuro!”

“W-what?” Makoto’s face had gone from terrified to confused. “No, I didn’t!”

“Dude, the vote’s already in, there’s nothing you can do. Just give it up.” Hiro looked more upset than he sounded, but Byakuya couldn’t think beyond ‘he’s suspecting Makoto he voted for Makoto he got Makoto killed’.

“No, you guys don’t understand, I didn’t-”

“Blah, blah, blah!” Monokuma interrupted. “Alright, now! I’ve prepared a very special punishment for Ultimate Lucky Student, Makoto Naegi!”

“No, wait!” Byakuya was shouting in his head, but it only came out as a mutter. In his mind, though, he was raging, tearing at the walls, screaming. He was sobbing. “It’s not him, it can’t be him, you’re all imbeciles, just hold on!” As far as anyone else could see, however, he was cool. Composed. A proper Togami.

You have value, and it isn’t because you’re a Togami, it’s because you’re Byakuya. And you’re stupid. And you’re my friend.

He was losing him.

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s punishment time!”

Makoto’s face as he was dragged away brought everything into sharp focus. He was gone. He was going to die, Byakuya was going to lose him, he was gone. Byakuya was sure the walls had to be caving in around him, because there was something so damn loud in his ears and the pressure on his chest was making breathing next to impossible and don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry-

He didn’t watch. He couldn’t watch. He felt the sharp pain as his knees connected with the floor, but he couldn’t make himself get up (unhygienic disgusting disgraceful unbefitting of one such as yourself-). He stared at the floor, deaf to the horrible sounds of the machine before him, Makoto’s expression burned into his memory. Makoto was bright, and kind, and hopeful, and stupid, and too smart, and soon he’d be none of those things because he would just be gone.

Ridiculously, he remembered Taka. Remembered how he had completely broken after the execution of Mondo Owada. Through the haze of fear and pain and hurt, Byakuya let the final insult of this horrible, horrible day hit him: He wasn’t going to be able to do that. He was Byakuya Togami, and he was going to pick himself up and play it off and pretend that none of this had ever happened. He was going to lie, and insult the only people he had left, because that was what he did.

Makoto was dying. So why were people telling him breathlessly to look?

“What?” He hated how his voice came out. It wasn’t tearful, because he wasn’t crying, but it was still shaky and cracked and not quite right.

Hina grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, the pain forcing him to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. “Look! It’s… it’s him!”

Byakuya looked. The first thing he noticed was Makoto, still alive but moving towards a huge weight. He’d be crushed, oh god, darkness closing in on him unable to tell if it was over him or still just behind him until the moment it struck, pain filling him as his bones snapped and his skin tore and nothing was left- but the second thing he noticed was the screen.

Alter Ego’s face shone in bright green overhead. Byakuya decided right then and there that, if he ever saw Makoto again, he’d let him know that green was his favorite color.

The weight stopped, the track expanded, and Makoto fell into darkness. He was gone. But – a worn, satisfied smile found itself on Byakuya’s face – maybe not in the way Monokuma had intended.

Monokuma’s reaction certainly seemed to confirm this. He told them all to go upstairs and go to bed, keeping the persistent and annoying brightness in his voice but not wasting any time gloating or cackling as he usually did. Byakuya knew that game. He had a long history of pretending things didn’t bother him.

In the elevator, the other classmates (shocking no one) had questions.

“Byakuya, what was that?” Hina was too close too loud too much.

“It was none of your business.”

“B-but, Master-!”

“Silence, you. And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“S-sorry!” Toko looked somewhat hurt, although Byakuya couldn’t tell if it was because of how he’d reacted to Makoto’s death or the admonishment.

“Seriously, though, man, that was like… intense. Like, more intense than usual.” Hiro leaned against the wall. “It was like you were someone else.”

“Maybe you just don’t know me very well. It wouldn’t surprise me; you are notoriously awful at paying attention.” The others kept asking questions, and he deflected with similar levels of nonchalance and rudeness until they left him alone.

Kyoko stood next to him, speaking in a low voice. “I’ll get him back. Alright?”

“How?” Byakuya laughed softly and without a trace of humor. “You have no idea where he is, or even if he’s alive.”

“I think I’ve figured out a couple things about my past.” Kyoko’s eyes glimmered. With a start, Byakuya realized that there was hope in her gaze. “I can find him.”

“Thank you.” It was all he could say.

“And…” Kyoko offered a smile. “You’ve surprised me. Not just today, but for a while now. Thanks for putting in the effort for him.”

“It wasn’t just for him.” He found, almost alarmingly, that it was true. Maybe it had been at first, but it wasn’t anymore.

“I know. That’s why I’m happy about it.” She moved away, staring out the window as the grays of the walls shifted in tone and they finally found themselves above ground again.

Byakuya went to his room. Without Makoto, it felt… empty. He didn’t have the energy to break down, instead just curling up on his bed still fully clothed. He hated not knowing where Makoto was. He couldn’t help but wonder: had it just been another cruel joke, a false stroke of ‘luck’ tying the execution together, or did Makoto really survive? And, if he did survive, did it mean he was innocent? Or did he kill Mukuro after all?

Part of Byakuya said it didn’t matter. He himself had been fully prepared to kill, hadn’t he? He shouldn’t fault Makoto for having the same instincts. What bothered him more about the idea that Makoto was guilty was how easily he had manipulated Byakuya, playing him like a fiddle. He thought he’d be harder to make a fool of.

But Monokuma had lied. The vote hadn’t been unanimous; he knew that better than anyone. That had to mean something.

A knock came from his door. Warily, Byakuya stood and opened it, figuring that no one was likely to kill so soon after a trial.

Hina stood at the door, fidgeting. “Hi. Can I come in?” Wordlessly, Byakuya stood aside. What was she here for? Hina smiled awkwardly and stepped inside, sitting down on the bed.

Byakuya found his voice. “Did you need something?”

“I’m not good at reading you.” She was staring at her hands, tapping one incessantly against the other.

Byakuya frowned, confused. “Sorry?”

“You talk a lot, but I can’t tell how much of it you really mean.”

He scoffed. “All of it. I don’t say things that don’t have value.”

“Okay, sure.” Hina sounded almost chastising, as though she were speaking to someone far younger than she. “But my point is, I think I’ve got it right this time. You cared about Makoto. Right?” She took Byakuya’s silence as a response. “I’m sorry about this trial, then. I know how it feels.”

“It didn’t matter. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about any of you.” He’d said it too late, and they both knew it.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Lie?” There was no accusation in Hina’s voice. It appeared to be a genuine question. “Nobody cares what you do, y’know.”

“Thanks a bundle. That really makes me feel more secure in opening up to you.”

Hina blinked. “It does?”

“No-” Byakuya closed his eyes. “It was sarcasm. I apologize. I wasn’t aware I was dealing with a lifeform so utterly unintelligent, but, then, we can’t all have mental faculties surpassing that of an eight-year-old, can we?”

“People call me stupid pretty often, you know.” Hina didn’t seem too bothered. “But I don’t think I am. I know more than you all seem to think. For example, I know that you’re changing the subject so I don’t keep asking about Makoto.”

Byakuya made a ‘tch’ sound with his tongue. “Why do you care?”

“Because, like it or not, you’re our friend.” The answer surprised him, but Hina said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We want you to be happy.” She looked down. “I won’t ask what kind of relationship you guys had. I know I wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it. But… he’s still alive. You have to believe that. Okay?”

“I don’t have to believe anything. The likelihood of Monokuma allowing Makoto Naegi to continue to survive is almost laughably low.”

“See, that’s your problem. Anything that doesn't fit into your preconceived reality, you label it a lie.” She smiled innocently, but Byakuya knew she was fully aware of the irony. “Life isn’t predictable. I pretend to murder my girlfriend, you fall for the most boring person here, and… and maybe he proves to be more resilient than you give him credit for.”

“He’s not boring, and I haven’t… fallen for him.” The statements were contradictory. He should really think before he speaks.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s just something to think about, got it?” Hina stood up. “You’re a good guy, Byakuya. Act like it sometimes.” She walked right by him, leaving the room with all the grace of someone who’d won a conversation.

So why didn’t Byakuya feel like he’d lost?

The days passed in obscurity. He wasn’t too worried about killings anymore – he didn’t believe anyone left had it in them – but there was still an air of danger, haunting the halls, filling his nose and ears and eyes. Without Makoto to get him through it, everything felt sharper, more exaggerated. Worse in a way he could hardly define. Now that he knew he was being watched by more than just Monokuma, he also found himself becoming more dramatic. He’d look to cameras whenever Hiro said anything stupid, he’d take long walks in the hallways and sigh just a little louder than necessary, maybe deliver a few one-liners when he was sure no one was listening… he wasn’t sure if it was all instinct, or to show the mastermind that he wasn’t bothered by the revelation, or if it was just because, without Makoto, things were incredibly, incredibly boring.

The day Kyoko didn’t show up for breakfast, anxiety hung heavy in the air. Hiro worked twice as hard to make everyone laugh, but only Hina gave him a forced chuckle.

“Alright, I’ve had enough.” Byakuya placed his book down, deciding reading was useless. “Should we look for her?”

“She’s fine,” Hiro insisted. “She’s just… I dunno, she likes to go off on her own, doesn’t she?”

“But what if she’s not?” Hina sat on a table, kicking her leg against the bench. “What if she’s dead? What if Monokuma…”

“If Monokuma wanted her dead, he wouldn’t just kill her.” Byakuya looked to the other three people in the room. “Instead, he’d give someone reason to do it for him. So, I’m only going to ask this once: Did any of you kill Kyoko Kirigiri?” All three of them quickly jumped to their own defenses, but he held up a hand and silenced them. “I figured as much. I didn’t either, for the record. As Hiro so… astutely put it, she likes to go off on her own. I’m sure Kyoko is just fine.”

“But…” Hina paused, becoming visibly frustrated. “But what if she’s not? I mean, Kyoko always comes down to breakfast, unless someone’s dead or she’s mad at Makoto.” Byakuya saw gazes move to him – worried, as though they were scared he’d break down again – and felt a flicker of annoyance. He didn’t need to be coddled, and wanted to tell them as much, but Hina spoke again before he could say anything. “I say we look for her. I’m worried. What harm could it do, anyway?”

“I’m telling you, she’s fine.” Byakuya wished he believed himself just a little more.

Hina glared at him. “She always comes down for breakfast. Always.”

“Uh, if she is dead, do we even want to find her?” Silence filled the room for a beat. “I mean… unless three or more people find the body, we’re safe from investigation and class trial. Does anyone really want to go through that again?”

“That s-sounds like something a m-murderer would say, Hiro.”

“Actually, it’s not.” Byakuya pushed up his glasses (half because they were falling down, half because of dramatics). “There’s nothing to gain from a murder that doesn’t result in a trial. And Kyoko isn’t dead.”

“Or maybe she is, and you’re just saying she isn’t because you killed her!” Hina stood up. “You always hated her, maybe you just got bored!”

“Why on Earth would I kill someone? I said I was done with this game, and I meant it.”

“Okay, so you lied. It’s not like you haven’t lied to us before.”

“Don’t call me a liar.” Byakuya spat out the word liar like it burned him. He was so goddamn sick of being mistrusted.

“I mean, Byakuya, you’ve gotta admit that Hina’s got a point.” The voice came from the doorway. Byakuya’s breath caught in his throat. “But be careful, Hina. If we learned anything from the last trial, it’s that jumping to conclusions without irrefutable evidence is dangerous.” He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to turn around and see that he was wrong. He was so scared of moving and watching it all melt into smoke around him.

“Aren’t you all gonna say hi?”

Hina found her voice first. “Makoto!”

At that, Byakuya whirled around, nearly tripping over his own feet to see it for himself. And, sure enough, there he was, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, sheepish and dirty but alive.

Everyone ran towards him, asking questions and teasing, but Byakuya found himself frozen. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but just look at him. He was alive. He was smiling and laughing with his whole body, and he was telling everyone about something that Byakuya couldn’t hear over the relief and joy and hope that had (surely by accident, there was no way something like this could’ve been meant for him) found itself roaring through his blood. Makoto looked up to see him, and offered an awkward wave and a half-smile.

Byakuya found his feet. He was moving, charging up to Makoto, grabbing him by the arm, practically dragging him out of the room.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Makoto laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. Byakuya pulled him into the hallway, acting purely on adrenaline and anger and relief, and all but suffocated him in a hug. “Oh. Okay. Uh… missed me, I guess?” Byakuya ripped his arms away and shoved Makoto up against the wall.

“Where were you?” Byakuya didn’t try to conceal how frantic he was. Had Makoto eaten? Had he slept? Was he hurt?

“Byakuya, are you… are you okay?”

“I believe I asked a question.”

“I fell into the garbage, actually.” Oh. That explained the smell. Byakuya wrinkled his nose in distaste but said nothing of it.

“Have you eaten?”

“Uh, yeah, Kyoko brought me some stuff.”

Byakuya paused. He’d had so much he’d wanted to say to Makoto, but now it was all gone. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done this.

“I missed you, too.”

“Excuse me?”

Makoto’s expression softened. “You were worried about me, right? I was worried about you, too. I didn’t know what was happening out there, and I was worried that what happened to me might’ve gotten you guys in trouble… I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. And I wasn’t worried, simply annoyed.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. “What were you thinking, Makoto? I thought… damnit, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Makoto looked genuinely upset, and Byakuya wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but he forced his gaze to fix onto the floor instead.

“Don’t apologize to me.”

“If that makes you feel better, then I won’t. But I am sorry. For worrying you.”

Byakuya bit his lip, thinking. “…Makoto, if I ask you something, will you be angry?”

“No.” It was as simple as breathing for him.

“Did you do it? Did you kill her?”

Makoto’s eyes widened. “W-what? No, of course… no. I didn’t. I really was sick.”

“And you didn’t plant anything in Kyoko’s room?”

“No.”

“None of it was true?”

“None of it was true,” Makoto confirmed. “It was a mix of Monokuma wanting me out of the way and Kyoko tampering with evidence.”

A hot bolt of rage tore through Byakuya’s blood. “Kyoko did what?”

“I-it’s okay! Really, she had a plan.”

“Did she know Alter Ego would save you?” Byakuya demanded. “Did she set that up, too? Or did it not matter to her if you made it out, as long as she sorted out the mysteries of the school?”

“Byakuya, it’s really fine, she didn’t-”

“It’s not… god, why are you like this? She framed you. She sent you to your death. We all… they all voted for you to die, and you’re just… what, going to laugh it off? It’s high time that you understood that you are worth more than that.”

Makoto raised his eyebrows. “I thought I was just a commoner. Nothing more than a worm to you, completely brainless, blah blah…”

“Shut up.” Byakuya spoke with unexpected ferocity. “You know far better than I do how little of that is true. But, since you can’t seem to get it through your thick skull, allow me to spell it out for you: you are smart, and capable, and talented, and kind, and I respect you. There, are you happy?” Makoto was staring at him. Why was Makoto staring at him? “I thought that would be obvious by now, but it’s alright, I understand. Having the mental capabilities of a small child must make things incredibly difficult for you.”

Makoto’s face flushed, but he didn’t seem upset. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just, uh… thanks.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “I don’t want the thanks of someone so far beneath me. Just accept the compliment.”

Makoto’s lips twitched. “Which one? When you called my skull thick, or when you told me I had a child’s brain?”

“Obviously the skull one,” Byakuya replied easily. “With all the head trauma that occurs at this school, you should count yourself lucky that you have little to worry about.”

Makoto laughed, a real laugh that sent warmth to Byakuya’s chest. He grabbed Makoto’s hand instinctively, not out of anger or frustration or to make a point but simply to prove to himself that he was here, and real, and alive. Makoto looked down, surprised.  

“You okay, Byakuya?”

“You don’t need to question every little thing I do, you know.” His brain unhelpfully took that moment to remind him that the two of them were very, very close.

“Uh… sorry.” Makoto flushed, and Byakuya wasn’t sure if it was because of his admonishment or their proximity (and, more worryingly, he wasn’t sure if his face didn’t match). “Hey, Byakuya-”

“Are you two going to stay out here flirting for the remainder of the day, or can we discuss what Makoto and I talked to Monokuma about today?” Kyoko’s voice came from the door.

Makoto immediately dropped Byakuya’s hand. “Flirting? No, Kyoko, it’s not-”

“If you have something interesting to share, we should head back,” Byakuya interrupted. He didn’t particularly want to hear Makoto talk about his utter lack of interest in him for any longer than he had to.

“Oh! Right, okay, sure!” Makoto moved past Byakuya back into the dining hall. Kyoko gave Byakuya a look.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Nothing was happening; you don’t need to worry about that.”

“I’m not,” she said calmly. “I’m disappointed, honestly. I would’ve thought that someone so bold would’ve made their move by now.”

“There’s no move to be made. It’s stupid. I want no part in it.”

“Yes, you do. I noticed he was staying in your room.”

Byakuya took a step back. “How did you…”

“Oh, I checked in his room and he wasn’t there. I needed to speak with him, so I checked around the school, and eventually found him in your room. Nice pajamas, by the way.” She was teasing him. She had snuck into his room – how, he had no idea – and she was teasing him. “But if you’d rather pretend he means nothing to you, that’s fine. It’s neither here nor there. I’m going back inside, if you’d like to join me.” She turned to follow Makoto.

“Kyoko, if I could have a word with you?” The reminder that she could access locked rooms had triggered his memory (and, by extension, his anger).

She stopped. “What is it?”

Byakuya met her eyes. “You could’ve killed him. I want to know why.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“He could have died.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Did you know that he wouldn’t? Did you arrange for Alter Ego to come save him?” Her silence answered his question. “Did you really not care about him at all?”

“Of course I cared. I care. But I couldn’t let myself die.”

“So you made the selfish choice.”

“I made the only choice, Byakuya,” Kyoko corrected. “I made the only choice that I could’ve made. I refuse to let the mastermind win, no matter what I have to sacrifice, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. He’s my friend.”

“I don’t understand how you could do that to him.”

Kyoko snorted. “Of course you don’t. You’ve never done anything for the greater good in your entire life. But I knew that I had to find the truth, and I had to save all of you. And ‘have to’ means that I do it, no matter what the cost.” She bit her lip. “Alright, let me explain this a different way. Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?”

“Of course,” Byakuya said. “A train is approaching two workers, you can change the track so it hits a single separate worker instead, et cetera. What about it?”

“I’ve thought about that problem a lot. When you’re in my… particular profession, I guess it just comes to mind. Point is, I kill the single worker. Every single time.” She smiled. “I’m not cruel, Byakuya. I’m pragmatic. And I don’t think you’re that different.”

“I would never hurt Makoto,” Byakuya hissed. “No matter how many people it might save.”

“But what about Hina?” Kyoko raised her eyebrows, but Byakuya found himself silent. “Hiro?” Again, he didn’t know what to say. Kyoko’s lips twitched. “What about Toko Fukawa?”

“What’s your point?” Byakuya found his voice.

“My point is, Byakuya, that we come from very similar ideals. You’re just unwilling to give up something you care about, whereas I am. Remember that next time you criticize me, alright?”

“I’m not like you.” Byakuya eyed her coldly. “Or, if I am, I’ll do my best to remedy that. I’m not going to sacrifice anyone, and I’m not going to fail without that sacrifice. No one else is going to die. We are going to get out of here, and we are going to win, and we are going to do it without hitting anyone with trains. Metaphorical or literal.” He figured that, after the Celeste incident, it hardly hurt to clarify.

“Really?” Kyoko seemed almost genuinely surprised, but, somehow, almost delighted. It was as though she was watching a dog pick up a trick she hadn’t remembered teaching him. “Interesting. I look forward to seeing that future.” She straightened her jacket. “Well, if that’s all, I think-”

“One more thing, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Kyoko stopped. “Yes?”

Byakuya pursed his lips, finding it almost difficult to put what he needed to say into words. “You found him. You brought him back. I… it shows a surprising amount of intelligence and grit, especially for a weakling like yourself.”

“You’re welcome.” Kyoko turned on her heel, flashed a smile over her shoulder, and walked into the room. Byakuya followed, still unsure what to make of Kyoko Kirigiri.

The conversation in the dining hall was enlightening to say the very least. The idea of actually getting out of here – with the rest of the group, no less – was, despite what he said to Kyoko, not one that had genuinely occurred to Byakuya in a long time. At first, it was exciting; it provided an opportunity for a new game, one with different stakes, one that didn’t risk everyone’s life every few moments, and one that had something for him to truly gain. And then it settled.

If this worked, they’d be free.

He’d have a future.

Most likely, he’d end up going back to his family. That would inevitably mean slipping into who he was before. Becoming the boy who had walked into Hope’s Peak a month ago, rude and self-absorbed and deaf to the concerns of all those around him.

Byakuya didn’t know if he wanted to be that boy anymore.

On the other hand, a whisper of a thought refused to leave the back of his head, sticking every time he tried to move past it. This entire time, he’d been treating his feelings for Makoto as though they had a time limit (because, in truth, they did). There was no long-term romance that could survive in this place, especially when death was always just around the corner. But now that they would be outside, they had a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, maybe Makoto wasn’t interested, but it was suddenly more possible and permanent and real than Byakuya had ever imagined it being.

And that terrified him. The thought that he could ask Makoto out for coffee, or to the movies, or take him to his favorite restaurant (the idea of Makoto Naegi at his favorite restaurant forced him to hold back a snort) was frightening. Was he even a suitable partner at all? How would they function within a relationship? And, if they couldn’t, would he lose Makoto forever?

“Hey, Byakuya?”

Byakuya jumped, but recovered quickly. He was in the principal’s office, rifling through cabinets and drawers for any information. Placing down a stack of papers, he straightened his suit and gave the other boy his full attention. “Makoto. What did you need?”

“Just wanted to know if you were excited to get out.”

“Excited is hardly the word I’d use,” Byakuya said airily. “I am ready to leave. I don’t believe I’ve been ‘excited’ for anything in a very long time.”

Makoto furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment, before brightening. “We’ll fix that, okay? As soon as we’re out of here. I’ll find something that you really want to do, and we’ll do it. That way, you have something to look forward to!” Makoto smiled brightly as he spoke, making it almost sound like a promise rather than a dream. The gesture, which Byakuya might once have called childish, now struck him as so sweet that it took his breath away.

“Won’t you want to see your family first? I’m sure they’re worried for you.”

Makoto’s face fell somewhat. “I don’t even know where they are. I’m kind of trying not to think about it.”

“Are they in danger?”

Makoto gave a half-smile. “You remember the first motive, right? My video was of them. My parents, and my sister. Our house was just wrecked. I don’t know if they’re hurt, or dead, or if it was all a trick, but I can’t help but be scared.” He looked smaller than Byakuya had ever seen him. It made his chest ache.

“I’ll find them.” The words slipped out instinctively, but he quickly realized that he meant them. “Whatever it takes. As soon as we’re out of here, I’ll throw everything I’ve got into finding them. Alright?”

Makoto stared at him, clearly shocked. “Really?”

“Why so surprised? It isn’t like I have anything better to do.”

“No, it’s just… that’s really, really nice.”

“Tch. It isn’t a gesture of kindness, make no mistake. Your moping was simply getting annoying. Do try to keep a smile on that face, alright?”

“What if I don’t feel like smiling?” Makoto asked, leaning back against the desk.

“Then, obviously, let me know, and I’ll work to make sure that changes.” Byakuya shrugged. “I’ll do practically anything to keep from annoyance. Don’t underestimate me.”

“Thank you.” Makoto’s tone of voice caught Byakuya somewhat off-guard. It wasn’t the bright cheeriness he’d come to expect, or the semi-snarky teasing that he’d come to treasure. It wasn’t nervous, or confident, or even sweet. It sounded like a promise. Of what, Byakuya couldn’t tell. “Thank you so, so much.”

Byakuya’s breath snagged in the back of his throat. “You’re welcome. Thank you, as well.” He didn’t say what for. He didn’t think he needed to. “And… Makoto, should you need a place to stay… you and your family, of course… that can be arranged as well.”

“Are you inviting me to stay with you?”

“Obviously not with me.” Byakuya scoffed. “I’m very rich, Makoto, I have plenty of properties all over.”

“Right, right.” Makoto grinned. “So, if I happened to end up in the same one as you…”

“It would be a coincidence, of course.” Byakuya folded his arms and shrugged. “I can’t exactly be bothered to keep track of where all of the common masses are at all times, you’ll forgive me if I misplace you once in a while.”

“Of course. Even you can’t be that perfect.”

“No, no, you misunderstand. I absolutely could, I just would rather not waste my time.” He paused. “I do hope I’m not overstepping. I really could set you up somewhere else, if you didn’t-”

“I’d love to.” Makoto cut him off. “If my family really is alive, I might not be able to stay, but… at least until we find them. If you’re okay with that.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t okay with it.” Byakuya returned to his papers. “Come on. We aren’t going to get out of here at all if we don’t continue our investigation. I have something that I think may interest you.”

The investigation had everyone high-strung, but it wasn’t bad. There was nothing routine about it, which Byakuya appreciated. It also, admittedly, felt very, very good to stick it to the mastermind every time he found something of interest. If he flipped off the camera from time to time (only a tasteful amount, and only at times when it was the most appropriate reaction), it was nobody’s business but his own.

Of course, when Monokuma asked them all to come down to the gym and look at some clues, he was the first one down there. He knew it wasn’t a competition any longer, but he still wanted to win. He took the clue, but he didn’t look at it until he was in the hall. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want Monokuma to see him look at it.

He was glad he’d left, because looking at what Monokuma had given him left a feeling of lingering illness in his mouth, and he was nearly certain it showed. He was holding a photograph of the entire 78th class of Hope’s Peak Academy. They were at the pool, laughing as though they’d known each other for years. And, Byakuya realized suddenly, he wasn’t in it. Everyone else – including a young woman who he recognized as Mukuro Ikusaba – was there, but he was absent. That wasn’t altogether surprising, considering that he had no memory of the event, but it was still worth noticing.

The photo gave him pause. He didn’t know what to do with it. The only possible conclusion to draw was that his fellow classmates had all known each other before coming here, and had kept that from him, which meant…

Makoto had lied to him. The thought came first, followed quickly by they must be working together against me, but sticking longer. Stinging harder. Every time he thought he could trust Makoto, something turned around and proved otherwise. At this point, he didn’t know what he believed. Kyoko, certainly, would be an obvious pick for mastermind. Hiro and Hina were a little more difficult to believe (he wasn’t sure they were capable of conspiring, especially against him), and Toko was… well, she was Toko, but perhaps with everyone else to order them around, it would’ve worked. But Makoto? Byakuya couldn’t match up the cruel, cold mastermind of this frankly awful game with the boy who’d made him feel so safe, who’d worried about his little sister and jumped at the chance to stay with him just a few short minutes ago, who’d talked to him even when, in all honesty, Byakuya wasn’t sure he would’ve wanted to talk to himself.

Then again, looks were deceiving. He’d been wrong before.

He didn’t go to Makoto about it. He wasn’t sure he could take it. Instead, he searched for information, clues, anything to show that the photo was doctored. But it didn’t exist. It had been a final insult, a spit in the eye from Monokuma. He wondered if his ‘friends’ had devised the plan together. Why would they do this now? Were the others really dead, or was it all elaborate special effects? Had there been any point to this game?

He entered the elevator room, questions unanswered. Makoto went up to him immediately.
“Why is everyone avoiding me?”

Byakuya couldn’t meet his eyes, instead fixing them on the floor. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Why don’t you ask them?”

“I’m trying, they’re not responding- Byakuya, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Byakuya felt himself sneer, despite the pain filling his chest. “What’s wrong is that I don’t appreciate being made a fool of. You’ve successfully done it once, perhaps, but not again. You hear me? Never, ever again.”

Makoto stepped back. “What… I don’t know what you’re talking about, please just-”

“Shut up.” Byakuya walked into the elevator. He’d gotten the last word. Makoto filed in silently and stood against the wall like a kicked puppy. Byakuya had won the conversation. He was absolutely miserable.

The ride down the elevator was tense. Hina and Hiro looked around like they were certain there was a bomb somewhere in the car. Toko was shrank back into the wall, shaking but not saying a word. Makoto stared at the ground, confused and hurt and so small. Kyoko watched each person with perhaps more vigor even than Byakuya, like she was trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together that had been floating around her head for a long time.

Once the trial started, he was prepared. He figured he could hold off on the truth for a while, draw it out, maybe watch them squirm. If he was losing every single person he currently cared about, he could at least have a good time while doing it.

“You’re all working against me!” Hina’s voice echoed through the chamber, breaking Byakuya from his thoughts.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t have been so hasty.

The photos were passed around. He added what he could to the conversation, but his mind was reeling. First was pure, crushing relief (and, in all honesty, a little bit of shame at how many times he’d doubted Makoto). Then, he started to think about it. He was in photos he had no memory of taking. Makoto claimed to have seen videos of him speaking to the headmaster. Photos could be doctored, but a video was trickier to refute. What was happening?

Things started to fall into place when Makoto mentioned the older scars being what killed Mukuro. There were dozens of them, littered throughout her body. If they were old, she had to be someone from the morgue. If she was someone from the morgue, the only person whose wounds matched that description was-

“Junko! It has to be Junko!” Makoto’s voice rang out, clear and determined. Byakuya grinned in spite of himself.

Junko’s ‘reveal’ was tacky at best, in his personal opinion. She flipped through personalities like they were clothes on a rack, taking a look at each before humming disapprovingly and switching to the next one (Byakuya especially hated the mock-queenly one. For no particular reason, of course). She laughed and taunted her way through the conversation in a way that made it annoyingly difficult to feel good about having guessed her identity. It was annoying.

He listened to her explain how she’d killed her sister. He listened to her list off her utter perfection. He was bored. Honestly, she needed to pick a new gimmick, because this was getting old incredibly quickly.

“He’s got that noble blood!” 
“Huh? Don’t you mean… had that noble blood?” Junko’s voice was almost enough to give him a headache. Her gaze, locked with his own, was piercing.

What? He questioned her immediately, but she just kept laughing and ignoring him. Byakuya felt panic close at his throat. What did she mean? Nothing could take away… unless… The game had been televised. Maybe his family saw everything. Maybe they’d seen him stumble, and show weakness, and… they’d have to know about Makoto. He’d failed them in here. Maybe they didn’t want him anymore. His father could easily have found one of his siblings and given them a second chance, or even conceived a new heir. Was he even Togami?

They bounced ideas around – their memories, the motives, whatever – but he was panicking. This wasn’t real. His family wouldn’t give him up over something like that. He was Byakuya Togami.

He was frustrated, and angry, and scared. He hated this. He hated this so, so much. Why couldn’t she just get to the point?

“That is why we took your memories: so that you would have the desire to leave!” But that didn’t make any sense. Nothing would make him want to stay in a school, with no money or future or family to make him mean anything. She was lying. She had to be lying.

The screen flickered to life, and Byakuya saw the truth.

What had happened to the world?

It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. Nothing about this made sense. Someone would’ve stopped it. His family would’ve stopped it. They had the resources, they had the grit. Togami didn’t lose.

But he had to know. So, when Makoto proposed asking Jill, no matter how badly she made Byakuya want to run the other way, he helped. A little. It was all it took, anyway.

He watched Jill have a mind-numbingly frustrating interaction with Junko, feeling his patience wearing extremely thin. He trusted Makoto with his life, but he wasn’t sure that this was a good idea.

Then, of course, Jill started really talking. She explained everything: How the Tragedy had begun, how it had spread, how the entire world was in chaos, and how the 78th class of Hope’s Peak Academy had sealed itself away to protect itself from the onslaught. Byakuya forced himself to stay on his feet, continue the questioning, but he couldn’t fully contain his shock. More than that, he was confused. His family had enough money to buy teams and teams of highly trained militia. They could’ve put a stop to this before it had even begun. Where were they?

“Well, as long as we’re being ridiculous, I have another ridiculous story to tell you!” Junko’s eyes snapped to meet Byakuya’s, cruel and joyful and so, so hopeless. “It’s the story of the Togami Corporation, which has given Byakuya’s life all its meaning!”

“What?” Byakuya felt something sinking in him, like the feeling in his chest knew the truth before his brain got the memo. “What did you say?”

Junko’s smile widened as she turned to Makoto. “Why don’t you tell him? You two are certainly close, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” interjected Byakuya. If he could spare Makoto from whatever game this was, he’d gladly do it.

“Don’t you? The audience sure does! They ate up this subplot, y’know. Made me almost sad to try and get rid of Makoto!” Oh. Of course, the audience knew. They’d seen him tell Kyoko, they’d seen his conversations with Makoto… oh, yes, the public would’ve loved this. And his family would’ve hated it.

“What do you mean?” Makoto demanded, eyes flickering between Junko and Byakuya.

Junko’s smile widened. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll tell you. That’d make for bad television! But really, I wanna know. What do you think happened to the Togami family?”

Makoto’s eyes widened. “The… god, Byakuya… the Togami family-”

“That’s right!” Junko grinned. “The Togami family fell!”

Byakuya felt the breath leave his lungs. “You’re… you’re lying.”

“Hm… nope! Don’t think I am!” Junko pulled up Monokuma, voicing him in a close (but imperfect) approximation of his voice. “Every member of your family is completely dead! Toast! Nothing more than a pile of bones!”

“Stop it!” Byakuya felt his words crack. He couldn’t cry. This couldn’t be what did it. His family would… they would… apparently, they would do nothing.

He’d never tell them he loved them. In the end, he couldn’t tell if he really did, which somehow made it worse. He wanted to know if he loved his family. It felt like something he should know, something that should be obvious, but now he’d never know and it wouldn’t matter. He’d never get to tell them things about himself, either, things a family should know. He’d never come out to them. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever have wanted to (he was quite certain they’d have reacted poorly), but now the option was gone. It was frustrating, to not have the choice.

Perhaps worst of all, he’d never get closure, never prove to them that he wasn’t a waste, that he did have worth, that he was just as good as the rest of them. He’d never show them that he’d become stronger, that his worth as a person and his capacity to love were no longer mutually exclusive. He felt like he’d come far, he really, really did, and now he was just…

He’d never see them again. They were gone. He was no one. He had nothing. He was so, so alone. He kept shouting at Junko, fighting the truth, but his heart and his mind knew better than his tongue.

He lifted his head in time to see Makoto start running. He stepped away from his stand, going around the circle, passing by classmates dead and alive until he stopped by Byakuya and pulled him into a hug. He was so much shorter than Byakuya, but damn if he didn’t cling to Makoto like he was some kind of life support. He didn’t cry. He realized then that he wasn’t sure he remembered how.

He’d never tell his family to fuck off for teaching him to forget how to cry.

The conversation continued, but he focused on Makoto’s arms around his waist, and his head against his chest (Byakuya had stepped down off of his stand to allow the height difference to lessen slightly. For convenience). Makoto did brilliantly, finding the truth amidst Junko’s blather while still never letting go of Byakuya, but Byakuya took no joy in it. He wasn’t worth joy. Without his family name, he wasn’t worth much of anything. It was the best thing about me. Who was he now?

He’d lost two years. He heard that through the ringing in his ears. What had happened? Had he opened up at all? Made friends? Did he like Makoto? Did Makoto like him back? Maybe they’d been dating. Maybe Byakuya had taken Makoto to his house. Had his family known?

In the back of his mind, Byakuya also couldn’t help but wonder if he was friends with anyone who’d died. How had he known Chihiro? The guilt from that thought hit him full-force. These had been people who might have tried to help him, who might have gotten him to be kinder, be stronger, be happier, and he’d treated their deaths like they were nothing. He didn’t deserve love anymore. Love, or joy, or hope. Who was he to take hope for himself, when people like Makoto deserved it so much more?

Junko’s eyes glittered when they flicked over to him. She looked at him like he was a deer that she’d caught in the leg, lying helplessly on the ground. It would be too easy to aim a bullet directly into his head.

But Makoto was there. He squeezed gently and whispered encouragement in his ear (well, into his chest, but it worked fine). Byakuya wished he’d wake up, realize this was a useless endeavor, and go back to his stand, but he didn’t. Good thing, too; Byakuya thought he might faint if Makoto weren’t there.

The stakes were laid plain before them. They had two choices: Leave, or stay. Before, there’d been no contest. But now…

Byakuya didn’t know if he could leave. If he could exist in a world without his name, without his family. He’d prided himself on being strong without them, but he didn’t know if that was true anymore. He was, when all was said and done, a kid. A kid who had just been stripped of everything he thought he knew. He was no one without his family. Why not stay? At least here, he could-

“If you choose despair, all of you will remain here, and Makoto will be executed!”

Makoto’s grip tightened on Byakuya’s shirt. Oh. Oh, there was no contest.

Makoto was, as always, brilliant. He brought hope to each dark corner of the room, from Hina to Hiro to even Kyoko, try as she might to pretend she was infallible. He recognized that struggle all too well.

“Byakuya?” Makoto looked to him for answers.

“I…” Byakuya closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be out there. I don’t know what I’ll do without my family. That’s the truth. I could lie, and say that I’m ready for anything, and claim that I can bring my family name back all on my own, but I… I don’t think I want to lie. Truthfully, I don’t know what I would do.”

“So… you’re choosing despair?” Junko’s smile was sickly bright, and somehow completely joyful and joyless at once.

Byakuya’s smile grew to match. “So arrogant. It doesn’t suit you. I wasn’t finished, and I don’t appreciate being interrupted. Close your mouth before I tell Jill to cut parts of it out.”

“I’ll do it! I’d do anything for Master!”

“The same goes for you. Quiet.” Byakuya cleared his throat. “As I said, I don’t know a lot. There are… countless things I’m unsure about. And that’s frightening. So, as we humans do in times of uncertainty, I am clinging to the one thing that I will always be certain of. Always, and forever, and without divergence or hesitation. I do not want Makoto Naegi to die.” He squeezed Makoto’s hand. “Of course, that leaves me with only one option. And if that option means that I’m forced to save the world, bring honor to my late family, blah, blah, then… fine. So be it. I’m quite sure I’ll do a brilliant job, anyway, so I’m certainly not opposed. So, there you go. That’s where I stand.”

“Me, too!” Genocide Jack’s tongue flickered. “Well. Not about the Makoto part. Honestly, I’m not too crazy about him right now. But I’ll follow Master wherever!”

“How truly inspiring,” said Byakuya, not a hint of sincerity in his voice (although, truth be told, he was relieved—Jill was something of a wild card on the best of days). “Well, I suppose that’s it. Let us out.”

Junko stretched the end out. Far longer than it needed to be stretched. As it dragged on, the truth of the situation became steadily more and more real. He’d made it. Against all odds, the six of them were going home. He didn’t know if he was relieved or scared, but he was – to a certain extent, anyway – happy to get out of Hope’s Peak Academy. Again, though, there was something about the almost manic joy in Junko’s voice as she talked about being killed that made it difficult to feel like they’d won anything. It took some of the weight off of what should’ve been a triumphant moment. Byakuya didn’t appreciate that.

When Monokuma took Junko away to the execution, he tapped Makoto’s hand. “Hey. You don’t want to watch this, do you?”

“No,” Makoto admitted. “Why, do you need something?”

Byakuya sighed. Maybe this was a decision he’d regret later. It certainly wouldn’t be the first one he’d made. But he and Makoto had a future. It was an uncertain one, one filled with fear and doubt and probably more danger than the situation they were leaving, but it was still a future. Byakuya had realized a while ago that he didn’t want those futures to be separate. “Yes, I do. Do you mind stepping aside for a moment?”

“Uh, are we allowed to not watch executions?” Makoto was already following Byakuya back into the trial room.

“Considering that the only person to tell us to stop is currently in a cage, I think it’ll be just fine.” Byakuya stared down at Makoto, wishing (not for the first time) that he wasn’t so damnably small. His fingers fidgeted with the bottom of his jacket. “Alright. Makoto. You, uh… that is to say, I- oh, damnit.”

Makoto blinked. “Huh?”

“I had…” Byakuya ran a hand through his hair, just to feel like he had something to do other than stare at Makoto and stutter. “I had a whole thing, you know? I usually have a whole thing, and it usually works out. I don’t… I don’t know why you’re different.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Makoto was clearly confused. Byakuya vowed never to insult Toko again, because she did this every day and seemed to be fine.

“No! No, don’t- don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m just…” He chuckled. “I’m learning that I’m more of a mess than I thought I was, that’s all.” He forced himself to look at Makoto, letting his hands rest at his sides. “I’m not a good person. I am… rude, and entitled, and harsh, and I probably act like I don’t care a whole lot about anyone beyond myself, and for that, I am sorry. And you, in comparison, are…” He searched for the words. “Makoto, you are the best person I have ever had the incredible honor of knowing. You are… kind, and open, and hopeful, and smart, and brave – ridiculously brave – and, for some reason, you saw fit to share some of that remarkable excellence with me. Being with you makes me want to be better, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Byakuya, I…” Makoto found his voice. “Thank you. That’s really, really nice. But do you have a point?”

“All of you people seem incapable of letting me finish. I’m trying to get my thoughts in order, give me a moment.”

“Oh! Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Makoto, my point is that I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long, long time. And I’ve known that for a while now, but I was scared. I was scared of what that meant. I’m still scared of what that means. God, Makoto, I’m so indescribably terrified right now. But I’d rather be terrified with you than without you. Does that make sense?”

Makoto nodded shakily. “Yeah, it does. I don’t want to leave you, either, but I still don’t really-”

Byakuya, in a moment of impulse and adrenaline and poor judgement, grabbed Makoto and pulled him in for a kiss. It was fast, and he pulled away almost immediately, and he nearly missed Makoto’s mouth altogether, but it still brought his pulse to an almost undefinable speed and sent a blush to his cheeks. He covered his mouth, almost as surprised as Makoto was. “Oh. Oh, damnit. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Oh.” Makoto’s eyes were wide, face a bright pink. “Oh.”

Byakuya drew himself up to his full height, desperate to regain some sort of dignity. “I… I apologize. I should’ve asked first.”

“No!” Makoto almost shouted, before doing his best to calm down some. “No, it’s okay. I just… I sort of knew that was where the conversation was going, but I didn’t expect that.”

Byakuya snorted. “Ever the detective, I suppose. I really should have asked first, though.”

“It’s really okay.” Makoto’s smile was only a little teasing.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have to talk about sticking up for yourself more in the future, but that’s fine for now.” He rocked backwards and forwards on his feet, nervous. “Well, there you have it. That’s… that’s the truth. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.”

Makoto looked at him, surprised, and then, bewilderingly, started laughing.

“Forgive me if I don’t understand the joke.” Byakuya felt his heart sinking, but he did his best to save face.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?”

Byakuya took a step back. “I beg your pardon?”

“I thought it was obvious during the second trial.” Makoto smiled sheepishly, reaching a hand back to scratch his neck. “Then again, all those times we spoke. God, I literally invited you to stay over in my room. Did you think I meant that in a bro way? I’ve been in love with you for, like, most of my time here at Hope’s Peak.”

Byakuya froze. “You’re joking with me.”

“No, honest!” Makoto scrambled closer, laughing as he grabbed Byakuya’s hand. “I thought you weren’t into guys, and then definitely not into me, but… yeah, Byakuya, I really, really like you. I thought you knew.”

Byakuya stared at their hands for a moment, before groaning. “I am stupid, aren’t I? You just asked so much about which girl I liked that I thought you couldn’t possibly think of me that way.”

“I didn’t want you to get offended if I suggested it being a guy. I was trying to bait you into admitting it, but… obviously that didn’t work, I’m sorry.” Makoto’s face lit up. “Oh, so the person…”

“Yes, yes, it was you. It was always, always you.” Byakuya allowed a smile to spread across his face. “You’re an idiot.”

“You, too.” Makoto stepped up onto one of the stands – Byakuya recognized it as Hina’s – with a little smile, lessening the height difference once more. “Can we try that again? You kinda slapped my face with your face.”

“That’s putting it rather crassly, and I was hardly thinking my actions through, but I suppose that’s a fair approximation of-”

“Byakuya Togami.” Makoto tenderly clasped Byakuya’s hands in his own. “I would very much like to kiss you again, and I can’t do that if you’re spouting whatever bullshit is currently coming out of your mouth. So, unless the next words out of your mouth are a ‘no, you can’t kiss me’ I’d like it if you kindly shut up.”

“I- yes, yes of course you can. Obviously, I want you to, I initiated-”

“Byakuya?”

“Shutting up.” Byakuya closed his mouth. Makoto stood on his tiptoes (he’d never get over how cute he was) and Byakuya leaned down, and they made it work.

Byakuya didn’t believe in fate. He was frankly depressed by the idea of destiny. He’d long since given up the idea that anyone has a soulmate, or a preordained future, or that there was a plan for everyone and everything. But when he kissed Makoto, a part of him couldn’t help but think that it was somehow meant to be. The kiss wasn’t perfect (although it definitely increased Byakuya’s suspicion that they’d done it before), but it was right. It was right in a way nothing else had been for so, so long. It was comforting, and safe, and honest. It was the sunlight that filters in between the gaps in the canopy of trees overhead, creating pockets of warmth amidst the cool damp of a forest. It was hopeful.

They stayed close long after they broke apart, holding each other. There was no desperation anymore, no fear of the moment not lasting. This was the ending they’d earned. They’d worked so hard, and lost so much, and now they got to hold each other and smile.

“Byakuya?”

“Mhm?” Byakuya slid one eye open to look at Makoto.

“You’re crying.” 
Byakuya brought a hand to his face. Makoto was right, there were tears in his eyes. He hadn’t even realized. It had been so long; he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. “I… oh. So I am.” He hated how guilty he immediately felt, but he pushed it aside. He’d work on it.

“Are they good tears?”

Byakuya grinned. Dork. “Very good tears.”

“Oh, for the love of- get a room!” Hina’s voice called out from across the trial room. “Stop making out on my stand!”

Byakuya turned to see the four other students, standing in the doorway and watching them. “This was our room, it’s hardly our fault you infiltrated it.”

Hina rushed up to capture Makoto into what looked like a slightly painful hug. “Congrats, Makoto! Next step, steal all his money and leave him in disgrace!”

“Hina!” Makoto laughed, but returned the hug. “Thanks.”

Byakuya cleared his throat. “I vote… not stealing my money.”

Kyoko nudged his shoulder. “Congratulations from me, as well. I’m happy for you guys.”

“I suppose I should thank you. I don’t know where I’d be if you didn’t scare me into self-improvement.”

“Please,” Kyoko said with a smile. “If that was enough to scare you, you’re going to have to strap in. I’m pretty sure Makoto’s real sister isn’t the possessive type, so I’ll take up the helm for now. Hurt him, use him, treat him like anything less than a goddamn treasure, and I will make absolutely sure no one finds your body.”

Byakuya had laughed in the face of death. He’d examined corpses without a second thought. He’d managed to get out a confession to Makoto Naegi (mostly) without making a complete fool of himself. He was absolutely terrified of Kyoko Kirigiri. “Ah,” he managed.

Her eyes glittered as she smiled. “Ah,” she echoed. “Just think about it.” Her hair swished as she turned to talk to Makoto. Hiro was a little busy talking to Toko, who looked absolutely horrified, but he flashed a thumbs up.

The six surviving members of the 78th class of Hope’s Peak Academy took the elevator up to the main floors of the school. They stood together in the center, regular posts long since abandoned. Some of them (Byakuya wouldn’t name names) held hands. There was a level of closeness shared between the six of them that none of them had expected. They felt somehow bound together, connected by the pain and fear and despair they’d endured. They’d all lost more than Byakuya had ever fathomed losing, but he thought he might’ve gained something, too. There was gain in Hina’s laugh, and in Hiro’s wild conspiracies, and – shockingly – in Toko’s snorts and semi-snide comments as Hiro explained that, no, it wasn’t impossible for aliens to have been the ones to end the world. There was gain in the pride in Kyoko’s eyes. There was, of course, an immeasurable amount of gain in the feeling of Makoto beside him, and the look of determination and anticipation that radiated from him, and the mess of hair that had become so irritatingly endearing to him. Byakuya finally felt like he’d won something.

And then they were there. They stood in front of the door, waiting for someone to press the button. Byakuya leaned down to press a kiss to Makoto’s forehead. “You ready?”

Makoto laughed. “Are any of us?”

“Probably not,” Byakuya said, half-smiling. “But we’ll figure it out, alright? We’ll find your family, we’ll stop the apocalypse, and we’ll work on bringing the world back into order.”

“Seems like a lot for a bunch of kids.”

Byakuya snorted. “We aren’t a bunch of kids. You’re speaking to the most brilliant, talented, incredible mind in recorded history. We’ll be just fine.”

Makoto laughed, pressing closer to him. “I love you.”

Byakuya stiffened. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard those words. Eventually, though, he relaxed. It wasn’t scary, not really. He was with Makoto. He was safe. And… “I love you, too.” And he was in love. This was his hope.

The six students pressed the button, and their world was flooded with light.