Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To be honest, Makoto is not entirely certain that he’s ever believed in all that Super High School Level Lucky Student stuff. 

He knows that Headmaster Kirigiri sure seems to, and that it lets him go to an amazing school where he has a great group of friends, but… it’s always been a finicky thing. One minute he’s having the high point of his life, and the next he’s facedown in the mud covered in chicken feathers while incredibly late for an exam. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. Actually, no, not really — a similar thing did happen once with maple syrup instead of chicken feathers, and he certainly wasn’t facedown in it — but that’s not really a situation he wants to talk about. The point is that his luck is unpredictable. He’s lucky one minute and suffering the next, and there’s no telling how it’s going to affect him any given time. 

Earlier today, when Mister Terajima paired him up with Kyoko for a partner project, he thought that he hit the jackpot for sure this time. Not only is the lavender-haired detective one of his dearest friends at the academy, she’s also been his not-so secret crush for the past six months, so he isn’t exactly going to complain about getting to spend extra time with her. Not to mention the bonus of that (incredibly hot) intelligence of hers ensuring that they would pull off an amazing grade he could brag to his parents about! Everything was coming up Naegi…

Until about fifteen minutes later, when Kyoko utters the words: 

“The forecast didn’t call for rain today.”

The instant the words leave her mouth, his eyes drift up from their project brainstorming, tracing the line of her gaze to the condensation-stained window. As his eyes meet with the aggravating sight of a soggy spring day, he asks himself what he was expecting, given that she did just declare that it is raining. It would have been easy to just take her word for it, and yet when he sees it for himself, he can’t help but heave a heavy sigh. 

“Well that’s kind of a bummer.” He mutters, brows furrowing as he tries to recall whether or not he packed an umbrella. He’s about 98% sure he did, but that’s mostly because he keeps it with him nine times out of ten, just in case of emergencies. “Looks like it’s raining pretty hard, too.” 

Kyoko hums thoughtfully in reply, the corners of her mouth tugging into a frown.. “Indeed. Not a great day for having a case to go to after class, I suppose.”

A pang of sympathy stabs his heart. It is true that it would be unpleasant for him to have to walk home in the rain, but he would surely survive. If she has to leave on a case, then her day will surely be more difficult. Who knows how far she will have to go? Can she take public transit to get where she’s going? Even if she can, the nearest train station to Hope’s Peak still permits her to get sufficiently wet, so it isn’t like she can exactly avoid the onslaught. 

“Y-yeah, that does suck. Way worse than what I’d have to be dealing with,” he says before he quickly adds, “But we don’t know for sure if this rain will stay, right? Maybe it’ll clear up before the end of the day. Sometimes it needs to just get rid of all of that cloud build-up, and then it’ll be good to go!”

He counts it as a victory that a smile plays at her lips, even if it is brief and shy. It’s always hard to get her to show much emotion at anything, so he will happily take any expression that he can get. “That’s our Naegi-kun,” she sighs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “Sometimes I wish I could see the world through your eyes. I’m sure it would seem like a much brighter place.”

Makoto’s shoulders rise and fall as he tries to fight the cherry-red colour that burns the tips of his ears. “It never hurts to have a fresh perspective, I guess. Still, for your sake, I really hope I’m right.”

“I hope you’re right, too. The case isn’t so close to here, and I’m afraid being in the storm won’t be so good for my health. I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t been appropriately keeping up with my sleeping and dieting schedules. The last thing I need is another threat to my immune system.”

He nods in agreement, unsure of whether or not it would be appropriate to scold her. At times she expressed pleasure at him caring about her health, and at others he had been curtly reminded to mind his own business. Caught in between two options, this time he decides it is best to just say nothing. “Well, for now, let’s just choose to believe that the storm will get better with a little bit of time.” 

Kyoko leans back in her chair and shakes her head, eyes still fixed on the disappointing scene outside. “I suppose that’s all we can do until the time comes.”

“Right.”

With their conversation concluded, the two turn their attention back to their project, choosing to ignore the pattering rain outside their window. For the rest of the period, they’re able to have a lovely conversation about the analytical themes in Osamu Daizai’s “No Longer Human”, sharing some deep and interesting insights that could keep them chatting for hours… They become so engrossed in their conversation they barely notice as the sky makes a transition, the previously dim light in the sky swallowed by the darkness of an incoming storm, flaring up only when shocks of white strike through the blackened clouds. Contrary to Makoto’s wishes, the storm does not get better. In fact, it seems to have heard his wishes and given him the middle finger, so that's really great for him. 

Although in all honesty, he’s pretty sure it’s worse for Kyoko. As Mister Terajima dismisses them for the day, he can see the glimmer of unease in her face. She clearly doesn’t want to walk outside in the storm. He can’t say he blames her. He doesn’t want to do it either. Still, he knows he’s got an advantage over her, and that just makes him feel worse. If he takes his umbrella and braves the storm, he’ll be thinking about her all the way home. Cold, dripping wet Kyoko shivering as she wanders into a crime scene, apologizing profusely for being late and pretending she doesn’t see the sneers of the rich madame who has hired her… it’s not an image he likes. Reflex might have him offer up his umbrella to her, but even if his mother raised a gentleman, the chances of her taking it were next to none. For all of their classmates’ claims that she is cold and uncaring, she would never take away an umbrella from someone who needed it. While this is something that is inherently considerate, it frustrates him to no end as they sling their bags over their shoulders and walk to the door. They’re almost out of it, with Makoto thinking that he might say something to try and lighten her bad mood, when she stops in her tracks. 

“Something up?” He asks, turning his head back to look at her before he can get too far. 

“I’m fine,” she answers quickly, “I just remembered there was a question I meant to ask Terajima-sensei about the requirements on our partner project.” 

An easy smile snakes across his face. “Oh, okay. Want me to come with you?”

To his surprise, she actually shakes her head. “No, I’m alright, I’ll just text you the details. I wouldn’t want to keep you behind, lest the storm get worse.” 

His brows knit together, his mouth curving into a frown. “You sure?” 

“Yes, don’t worry about it,” she waves him off, “I know you’ll probably prefer being home sooner rather than later.”

“If you’re certain,” he sighs as he shoves his hands into his pockets, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Kirigiri-san. Good luck with your case.”

“Thank you, Naegi-kun. See you then, and I hope your commute home is drier than it looks.” 

Fighting off a laugh at how silly that statement sounded, he spins on his heel and wanders out the door. The sounds of his classmates’ chattering surrounds him as they venture towards their lockers, but he finds himself lost in thought nevertheless. He wishes there was something more that he could do to help Kyoko. He already hates when he can’t help strangers with their issues when they ask, but not assisting his crush just makes his stomach twist. It’s things like these that remind him that his affection for her is completely and totally undeniable. There are a lot of people in the world that he would love to give his help to; however, there is nobody he wants to help with trivial things more than her. If the ground is covered in puddles, he wants to take off his blazer so she can keep her boots safe when she walks through it. If the fast-food restaurant serves her a cheeseburger with pickles when she requests their removal, he wants to (politely) inform the worker so she won’t have to. He wants to cover the bill when she’s hungry, and carry the train when she wears an extravagant gown, and tell her how wonderful she is every day, and hold the umbrella over her head to keep her dry. These are things he wants, things he values having the opportunity to do, but the universe is not allowing him to look out for her and it is totally killing him. And yes, he does recognize that this is a first-world problem that he is lucky to have. Few fools in this world have as much luck as he does in this regard. Even so, this does not make it any easier to stomach. He’s half-way through his internal rant to himself about being an incapable suitor when he’s drawn out of his funk by a collision that nearly knocks him off his feet.

“Ah!” He cries as he stumbles backwards and nearly collides with Chihiro, who has been trailing behind him. In retrospect he should have seen something like this coming, given that he was looking down until about a minute ago, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty. That self-reflection probably doesn’t mean much to the person he ran into, anyways. Or poor Chihiro, for that matter. He’ll have to apologize later.

“Ah, I’m sorry!” A familiar low voice says, the speaker’s voice tinged with only a sliver of surprise. As Makoto lifts his face to his accidental attacker, the flash of a purple suit jacket gives him all of the hints he needs to know — much to his embarrassment. “I hadn’t noticed you there, Naegi-san. I was lost in thought.” 

“It’s okay, Headmaster,” he offers pathetically, flashing his crush’s father a sheepish smile in hopes that it will remedy the impression of his idiocy, “I was pretty lost in thought, too.”

He knows better than to expect any emotion in the reply. This is Kyoko’s father, after all, and while the two of them are not peas in a pod… they certainly were raised by the same man. Fuhito Kirigiri’s no-emotions policy has lent itself to a pair of stone-faced descendants. Still, in some way, he takes comfort in the fact that Jin didn’t look too disturbed. If anything, the look on his face was more surprised than genuinely upset. 

“I suppose that’s what happens on a day like today. Is there something on your mind that I can help you with?”

I wish , he thought bitterly. This whole Kyoko situation, right down to the current predicament of the rain, would be so much easier if she and Jin were on good terms. Sure, most fathers did not like to see young men pursuing their daughters (how could their little girl grow up so fast?), but if TV had taught him anything, it was that they usually appreciated those who put in the effort to be worthy of their girls. And a gentleman inquiring about umbrellas to keep her dry would certainly be something a father would like, even if it ultimately boiled down to the father giving him the spare umbrella he keeps in case of emergencies. Although perhaps he is swerving a bit too far into sitcom territory for a scenario that wouldn’t come to pass anyway.

With nothing productive to say, he shrugs instead. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I’m just thinking about how I’m going to get home. It’s uh… pretty wet out there.” 

Jin nods, glancing out the nearby window, unperturbed by the students passing in front of his view. “No kidding,” he replies in what Makoto assumes might be a snicker in a non-Kirigiri, “I take it you don’t have an umbrella?”

I do, he almost says. 

I do, he almost declares.

I do, he almost claims, and nearly discards the perfect plan. 

But then it hits him. It hits him, the perfect plan. The one way he can help Kyoko, and she won’t even have to agree to it. His brain is not perfect by any means, but sometimes, he swears, he must be a genius. 

All he has to do is push out a faux sigh and shake his head sadly, and tell the headmaster a little white lie. “Unfortunately. Although you mentioning it actually reminds me…”

Jin’s eyebrows raise questioningly.

“Kyoko actually left her umbrella in our homeroom the last time it rained, and I hoped to give it back to her, but I haven’t had the chance. She’s going out on a case after class so she’ll definitely need it. I don’t have time to stick around to give it to her, because she’s asking Terajima-sensei a question and I uh…” 

Quick, excuse! Excuse!

“I promised I’d help my little sister practice her upcoming English presentation, so I need to get home right away. I was wondering, since you can open everyone’s lockers and stuff, if you would slip her umbrella in there for me?” 

“Ah.” Jin offers a rare smile, nearly prompting Makoto to release the breath he’s secretly been holding for the past thirty seconds. “Of course. I’d be happy to do that.” 

“Thank you so much, sir,” he breathes out in faux-relief, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blazer, “I’m sure Kirigiri-san will really appreciate your help in returning it.”

A bit of regret nips at him when he notices the taller man’s expression turn sad. Guilt pools in his stomach as he curses himself mentally. He knows better than to bring up his relationship with his daughter, especially when the hatred they hold is so one sided. For a split second he wonders if he should apologize, but Jin appears to brush it aside after a moment, gesturing kindly for Makoto to lead the way. “We better get to it, then.”

Their walk is, unsurprisingly, a quiet one. At first he wonders if maybe it’s because Jin feels insulted. After all, if someone had touched a wound as raw as the one between him and Kyoko on Makoto himself, he knows he’d have been a little unhappy too. If there is any animosity, though, the headmaster doesn’t say anything. So over time, his shoulders are able to relax a bit, and he can find it within himself to enjoy the older man’s occasional remarks. It’s not much in terms of conversation; however, he likes to think it’s a victory. You don’t talk to a guy you can’t tolerate, right?

They arrive at the lockers with relative ease, dodging only a few crowds of excitable students. In a way it seems strange that students would be so thrilled about the end of the day when it meant having to clean the school, but he supposes everyone likes the time they get afterwards to hone their talents. Hope’s Peak Academy doesn’t have many clubs due to students having differing interests, but even so, the ones he knows of are well-liked. 

“Do you and Kyoko have lockers close to each other?” Jin questions as he glances around the floor, clearly having noticed the stretch of lockers nearby. 

Makoto nods and points to the left. “Right over there. Hers is on the far right, further from us, and mine is on the far left.” 

With only slight acknowledgement, the other man speeds up his pace, approaching the locker with relative ease. Makoto must admit, he’s relieved to see that there are no straggling classmates hanging around by the lockers. If there were, he’s sure one of them would be on to him. Probably Byakuya or Toko, if he had to place any bets. While other classmates of theirs like Aoi and Sayaka were quite invested in their little “will they, won’t they”, Byakuya and Toko both made a point of teasing them about it. A lot. Especially when it came to him, for they knew his face would light up red like a firework. The lovestruck part of him sure desires his crush’s father’s approval, but the general human being part would be mortified to have it disclosed to her father that he likes her. If he doesn’t know already, that is. Maybe he does. 

Pushing the thought aside, he ventures towards his locker, eager to avoid falling behind. After all, he knows how easy it is for Jin to get in wherever he pleases. If he were any more of a troublemaker, it would worry him that all the man had to do was press a couple of buttons on his E-handbook. Sure, it is about the same process for him, but at least it is only his E-handbook that will open his own. As he presses the screen of his handbook against the reader, the door clicks and then pops open. His fingers find the edge of the metal door and work to pry it open; somehow he has already forgotten that it had been sticking this morning. 

With a bit of extra work he’s able to maneuver it open, but not without a bit of side-eye from the headmaster. “Do you think I should see someone about fixing that for you, Naegi-san?”

Makoto smiles sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders, his hand waving it off. “Nah, it’s okay. I think it’s just a luck thing. You know how it is.”

You are the only person who actually seems to believe in my luck, after all. 

“If you’re certain.” 

Dipping his head in confirmation, he turns his head back to the locker, and for the first time he realizes how messy it’s gotten. Yikes. That’s embarrassing. English books here, half-open bento box there, and a backpack open wide with half of the contents spilling out of it. The umbrella must be towards the back, he thinks, and so he plunges his hand as deep in as he can manage. His fingers feel around for the handle for a few seconds before he’s finally able to take hold of it. He yanks on it without a second thought, proceeding to knock his bag out with a whap. Pens and pencils roll out from inside and wander across the hall, and his homework book  falls out onto the floor on its half-open face.

Well, at least he got the umbrella out. He can ignore the lack of delighted awe on Jin’s face so long as he has a way to help Kyoko. 

“So that’s… Kyoko’s umbrella?” 

“Yep, that’s it!” He declares proudly, turning it around in his hand so Jin can take hold of the handle. “It’s been in there for a few days, but it’s definitely hers.”

Jin’s eyes bounce from the umbrella to his face and then back to the umbrella again, and his brows lower themselves. Uh-oh. Makoto’s heart drops into his stomach. Is the headmaster not buying this? He knows he’s not the best liar, but surely this shouldn’t be too hard to believe, right? 

“Did you see her come into class with it?” 

He suddenly feels quite warm, and hopes he isn’t going to start sweating. It’s hard enough to look the headmaster in the eye, he doesn’t need another tell of his being a liar. 

“Err… yeah, I did. Why do you- oh.” 

He sees it. The fatal flaw in his plan. The wrench that’s being thrown in it all. He’s come so far, but he’s crumbling now.  His stomach squeezes itself into a tight ball. Can he play this one off? If only he had realized it sooner…

How strange it is, to be thwarted by a rainbow umbrella. 

“Yes, I thought it was strange as well.” Jin replies. A smirk tugs at the edges of his mouth. It seems a bit reluctant to form, but the younger man is almost certain that it’s there. He’s been had. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she would pick out.”

The mantra he repeated to himself before about excuses does not return. Nothing does, apart from his blank stare for about thirty seconds. No words come to his mind when he speaks, but somehow, they manage to roll off his tongue and right out of his mouth: “I didn’t even notice,” he murmurs softly, “How strange it would look, I mean. She told me she bought it at a discount, at the corner store.” 

In fairness, it isn’t completely a lie. The umbrella actually was purchased from a corner store on a discount, just… not by Kyoko. It kind of surprises him how easily he was able to lie about it. Where is that kind of smooth talking when he gets in trouble at home?! 

“I see…” Jin hums, tapping his chin for a moment before shrugging it off.. It’s a gosh darn miracle that the man even thought it over, but actually buying it? Relief crashes into Makoto instantaneously. It’s a fight to not exhale his solace, the tension he had been holding in his shoulders only a minute ago melting away. The hit is so strong that he doesn’t even stop to consider that the headmaster actually knows what he’s doing, and is just letting it slide. After all, that camouflaged smug smile hasn’t gone away. “She got caught in the rain on a day like today and bought it then, perhaps?”

“Yeah, exactly that, really!” He laughs, extending his arm for the headmaster to take the device for real. “Seems like a stroke of luck that I must have it for her, then. She was just saying that she didn’t have one.” 

Finally, Jin allows himself to grin as he transfers the umbrella to his own grasp. “Perhaps, then, it was meant to be.”

Could her dad be any more obnoxious?

Deep in her heart, Kyoko knows that the answer is a resounding yes, but she had hoped that they were past the stage where he insists on trying to take care of her. She made it quite clear to him that day they met in his office that she did not want him to consider her a daughter, and yet…! And yet…! Oh, her hands curl into fists every time she remembers it. He couldn’t possibly be so daft as to actually believe that she was just playing hard to get, could he? 

Make no mistake, her anger doesn’t mean that she didn’t take the umbrella — in fact, she would readily admit to being grateful to have it — but the fact that it in all likelihood came from her father… Ugh, it makes her blood boil. He should know better than to toy with her like that! Perhaps she’ll have to teach him a lesson sometime.

Hmph. Well, even if she is frustrated, it would be childish of her to denounce the gift completely. In spite of her confusion over why her father owns a rainbow-clad umbrella, the device more than proved its usefulness. Though the storm rumbled and grumbled her whole way to the Manor, and the wind turned many others like it inside out, her little reliable umbrella kept her head dry all the way there. There were a few times she expected it to tear or maybe suck itself in, but much to her surprise, it stayed put. For something of hundred yen-store quality, she found that the quality could not have been better. She arrived at her case on time and fairly dry, which was a good thing, yet she still found herself loathing that this debt could be attributed to her father. 

Apparently, others seem to notice it too. She returned from her case about an hour prior, and after drying off, she ran into Sayaka in the hall. She and a few other girls from their class were heading to the common room space to play board games and bake cookies, and she invited Kyoko to come along. She tried to tell them that she wasn’t feeling up to it, and she had some case notes that she needed to work on while the evidence was fresh in her mind. Unfortunately for her, Aoi Asahina was a part of the group, and was not known for her ability to take no for an answer, insisting that hanging out with them would perk her up. So she shook her head in defeat and said she’d be there once she’d finished making some preliminary notes while they were still fresh in her mind. 

At the time, the interaction hadn’t seemed like it was going to be much of note, unless of course one wanted to know what she would document in her journal at the end of the day. She had been prepared to almost write it off completely, until Sayaka had so sweetly and innocently pointed to something that should not have been this far beyond her notice. The fact that it ever was is totally embarrassing.

“Oh, hey, Kirigiri-chan,” she giggled, pointing at the soaking wet rainbow in her hand, “Do you and Naegi-kun have matching umbrellas or something?”

She paused for a moment, her eyebrows knitting themselves together. Did they have the same umbrella? She shut her eyes for a moment and pictured within her mind the last time she and Makoto were in the rain together. Details were not so often beyond her notice, but she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t find him a little distracting. Was he holding this the last time they were together? Is it just a coincidence?

“Pssh, I bet you anything that the Herbivore Man gave it over to Kirigiri-chan.” Junko cackled, her hand having raised itself to her mouth to pretend she was hiding her snicker. “He’s such a simp like that. Isn’t that right?”

She hadn’t known how to respond. Junko’s slang only made it worse – what even was a simp? It seemed relevant to the point at hand. Dismissing the strangeness of the fashionista’s speech, she had taken notice of the other girls’ search for recognition in her face. She doubts they had been able to find any at that moment. Realization was settling in, and guilt pooling in her belly, but all she could do was stare blankly at that umbrella. If Makoto did what she thought he did… oh boy, was he in for a stern talking to!

Sayaka took a step forward with her arm outreached, almost as if she wanted to comfort her classmate. “Are you alright, Kirigiri-san?” 

She recalled nodding and choosing to avoid the pop idol’s eyes. As much as she likes Sayaka, the girl has a way of getting things out of people, and she already had her fair share of that sort of thing for the day. Besides, with that idea out in the open, she couldn’t help but feel the need to pursue the lead. So instead, she promised she would meet them later and dashed off, planning to later assure them that they hadn’t done anything to hurt her. 

And that is how she finds herself where she is now, sitting at her desk with her notebook open in front of her, her cellphone wedged between the pages. Her fingers drum the wooden surface and her leg bounces in an irritating tick. God, she craves answers, but getting them means calling her father, and that’s not something she wants to do right about now. Or ever. But it’s necessary to stop that itch in her brain that cries out for answers, so she knows that sooner or later she’s going to have to lock it down. 

Screw it , she thinks. This sucks, but I’m going for it. 

In a matter of seconds the phone finds its way into her hands and she dials. For something so trivial, it certainly feels like the most important phone call in the world. Her heart leaps in her chest as she holds the phone to her ear, her fingers still drumming away in her impatience. It doesn’t take all that long for her father to pick up, yet when she finally hears his voice on the other line, it feels as if it has been an eternity. 

“Hello, Hope’s Peak Academy Headmaster Jin Kirigiri speaking. What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” She says in what is quite possibly the least friendly voice she has ever conjured, her well of body ticks seeming to run dry at the sound of his voice. “It’s Kyoko. Kyoko Kirigiri.”

She wonders if he knows that she could hear the soft “oh” he let out at the sound of her name. And here she was thinking that the man would be all too delighted. Though she dreaded it in the moments leading up to the call, all of the sudden she somehow feels disappointed that this won’t be the case. Bah, whatever. He has information she needs, pleased reactions could wait. 

“Hi, Kyoko. It’s unlike you to call, is something the matter?” 

Even though he can’t see her, she shakes her head and purses her lips. “No, not exactly. I just had a question for you about an interaction you had today.” 

“Sure. What did you want to ask?”

“Did someone ask you to put an umbrella in my locker today?” 

The line goes silent for about thirty seconds. That tells her all she needs to know; however, she would much rather hear it actually coming from her father’s mouth. It isn’t every day that he gets taken in by Makoto for a good deed. “Yes, they did. Why do you ask?”

“Was that someone named Naegi Makoto?”

“It… was, yes. He told me that you were friends, and I have seen you around campus together, so I just assumed that that was-”

“Enough,” she huffs more curtly than anticipated, “I’m not scolding you. I just wanted to know if you put it there on his behalf.”

“... Yes, that was me. I thought about lending you one myself, to be honest, but Naegi-san insisted that he had one that you’d forgotten somewhere. I take it the one we put in your locker wasn’t yours?”

She exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I thought as much. Your grandfather wouldn’t have you walking around with such a gaudy and inexpensive umbrella. Still, Naegi-san seemed insistent, and his teachers are always talking about how much he loves to help out, so I assumed he wanted to assist you.” 

“It does sound like him. Although at first I admit I expected you to have left the umbrella.”

“You… thought it was me?”

Okay. Now she hears the delight. Heat rises in her cheeks at his timbre, and her hands ball into fists. They’re so tight that her fingernails must be imprinting on her palms, yet she won’t find it in herself to care. Why is it so frustrating to hear him express that excitement? It’s like his affection stings.

“I figured you were trying to be annoying,” she grumbles, sharpening her tone at the last word, “Although I imagine relentless is the word that you yourself might favour.” 

Her clarification seems to do little to settle his amusement, for she can hear a slight snort on the other side of the call before he replies. Alright, I get it, you love me. “I’m just glad that you know I care enough to be relentless.” 

“Shut up.” 

Jin snorts more, which only makes Kyoko want to repeat her previous command, but she holds her tongue. If it were her grandfather, she knows he would scold her for being rude to her elder… Even if that elder is the son she never liked. 

“Regardless of what we just established, though, Kyoko… Yes, Naegi-san asked me to put the umbrella in your locker under the guise that it was yours. Are you concerned that he gave it up for you?”

Her mouth opens to reply. Nothing comes out but a pathetic gush of air. For a few moments, she can hear her father sitting there waiting, but when she fails to continue, he sounds content to proceed on his own.

“Well, you don’t know for certain that he walked out in the storm by himself. If anything, he might have stayed here until the storm settled. There’s no absence of students here after hours. I’m sure that no matter what became of him, he’s alright. For your own sake, try not to worry so much.”

She swallows hard, like there’s an invisible rock in her throat. It’s a strange sensation, being comforted by her father, yet… she’s not entirely sure that she dislikes it. Her grandfather never comforts her like this. It’s a welcome change. Not that she would ever admit it to him, of course.  “... Okay. I will try my best.”

“Glad to hear it. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“... No.”

“Alright then, I will let you get back to your day, then.”

Her fingers start to drum on the table once again, her belly twisting in the most incomprehensible way. She hates this. “Yes, you as well… Thank you for calling.” 

She loathes the fact that she can hear his smile when he replies. “You’re quite welcome. Thank you for talking with me too. And I’m sorry about your friend. I hope he got home safely.”

“Right, thanks… See you at school.”

Click! 

Hanging her head in defeat, she puts her phone back down on her notebook, and opens her messaging app.

TO: Makoto Naegi

TIME: 6:07 p.m.

Did you make it home through the storm alright?

TO: Makoto Naegi

TIME: 6:09 p.m.

Surprisingly, I did not get as wet as I thought I would. Do you happen to know why that is?

When Makoto’s eyes peel open Friday morning, it is abundantly clear that he is sick as a dog. 

Ugh, the moment the sunlight leaks through his curtains and hits him, it’s all over. Two invisible hammers hit his head on either side of his skull, and his skin is hot and clammy. With every breath that comes too deeply, so too does a dripping nose, and he is wracked with chills that all of his warm blankets can’t seem to soothe. By the time he’s able to get his mother’s attention and get his temperature checked, it stands at a furious thirty-eight degrees celsius.

“Oh, if only you hadn’t forgotten your umbrella,” his mother laments as she presses a kiss to the side of his head, placing the thermometer down on the bedside table, “I’ll call my boss and tell him I can’t come in today. Are you okay if I go for a few minutes to do that?”

He gives her a nod and a weak grin, trying to convince himself to not be so guilty for lying to her about what happened. Just this once, he figures he can keep his altruism from her, and instead be doted on as her poor little baby who made a mistake. Not that she wouldn’t be happy to hear that her son is looking out for others, but… she had given him a few more lectures about being careful not to overextend himself. With his head aching without relief, he’s not interested in risking that lecture again. His mother smiles at him and exits, glancing over her shoulder as he nestles himself further into the covers and shuts his eyes. Maybe he can get some more sleep when his mother returns with headache pills. 

It’s not the best situation, having this overall crappy sensation, but at least he can comfort himself with the fact that he helped Kyoko. He hopes she isn’t too lonely without him at her side. In his absence he’s sure Aoi will pick up the slack; however, he can’t help wondering if she’ll still be the one to bring him his missed classwork at the end of the day. He would love to see her again. Although now that he thinks about it, he’ll probably hear it from her when they do reunite. 

Ah, well. There are just some things that one does for those they love, and the way he sees it, they are always worth it.

Much to his delight Kyoko shows up at his front door later that same day, homework in hand, apologizing as profusely as she can to a very confused Mrs. Naegi. 

Not that she understands at first, anyway. Apparently her son believed it best if his mother didn’t know the true whereabouts of his umbrella. Probably because he feared being scolded, she wagers. Perhaps she should have considered that before she came charging into their home apologizing, with his homework in one hand and a container of miso soup in the other. She couldn’t help it. Self-condemnation eats away at her every time she so much as thinks about him. The poor thing, all shivering and cold, walking home in a thunderstorm. She’s not the nurturing type, yet something about that image makes her want to bundle him up in something warm. Also maybe smack him upside the head for being too selfless, but the boy is already pretty badly-off, so she discards the concept.

Her heart squeezes a little as Mrs. Naegi guides her up the stairs to Makoto’s room. It’s not the first time she’s visited their house or been in his bedroom, yet something about being there feels different. The Naegis aren’t people who keep many barriers up. It’s not strange by any means for them to let her in. Still, as she raps softly on her friend’s door, she can’t help noticing that her palms are a bit slick with sweat. Heaven knows why. It isn’t as if he is going to be angry with her.

“Come in.” Makoto’s voice croaks gently from the other side of the door, the phrase barely making it out of his mouth before he devolves in a coughing fit. Kyoko glances pitifully over her shoulder at Mrs. Naegi, whose hand is placed over her heart. Neither of them needs to speak to know that they share the same sentiment: poor thing. Exhaling quietly, she turns the door knob and pushes the door open to reveal him. His appearance is about as pathetic as expected. 

To Mrs. Naegi’s credit, at least, he appears to be taken care of. A tall glass of water is sitting next to him on his bedside table, paired with a plate housing a few extra headache pills – as well as a few leftover apple slices that are beginning to brown. As for the patient himself, well, he is all tucked up in his blankets like a baby bird in a nest. A wet towel rests on his forehead as he fiddles boredly with a handheld gaming system, his sleepy gaze only flicking up from it when he notices that she’s there. He smiles the moment they lock eyes. 

“Kirigiri-san,” he rasps, a glitter of light finding its way into his olive-coloured eyes, “I’m so glad to see you.”

Despite the guilt that nibbles away at her when she sees him like this, she does all she can to return his grin. It’s likely pretty feeble, given that it’s her, but she imagines there is little harm in trying. “I’m glad to see you, too,” she raises her full hands, “I brought your homework. And some soup, as an apology.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What do you have to apologize for?” 

“For ever making you think it was okay to sacrifice your umbrella for me.” 

Makoto blushes as his gaze shifts quickly to his mother, whom Kyoko doesn’t even have to look at to know that she is giving him a somewhat disapproving look. Something about the way she speaks just makes it so easy for her to hear her pursed lips and folded arms. “Yes, as grateful as I am for Kirigiri-san’s safe arrival at her case, Makoto,” she chides, “You and I will have to talk about that when you’re feeling better, alright?”

He rests his head on the pillow in defeat, his light-hearted expression fading only slightly. “Alright. Thanks, Mom.”

Satisfied with her scolding of her son, Mrs. Naegi dips her head one last time and departs, leaving the two of them alone in Makoto’s room. 

“Sorry about that,” Kyoko apologizes, kicking the door shut with her foot, “It was not my intention to uh… rat you out, so to speak. When you didn’t attend class this morning, I knew you had gotten sick, and I felt far too guilty to come in here without apologizing to both you and your family.”

It’s no surprise at all to her that he waves it off, instead imploring her to come further into the room if she pleases. She makes easy work of entering, plunking his schoolwork down on his desk before venturing to his bedside table, where she sets down the soup. “It’s miso,” She declares as if it matters. He looks pleased with that, but doesn’t say anything else. 

A brief silence falls over them as she stands at his bedside, taking in the reality of his state. In her heart, though, she knows she doesn’t care that much. If Makoto is willing to get sick for her, then she is more than willing to get sick for him. 

“Naegi-kun, about your gesture, I… I truly am sorry about that situation. The umbrella was a wonderful help in getting home in that storm, and I deeply appreciate the sentiment behind it, but I must ask that you not do something like that again.”

“I’m happy that you worry about me, Kiri, but honestly, I’m fine.” He lies. She can see him suppressing a coughing fit. Is he being unconvincing on purpose, or does he lack a sense of irony? 

Her teeth cannibalize her lips as she speaks, wondering if her friend can truly be so oblivious to his own misery. “Nothing about this looks fine, Naegi-kun. Do you not notice how ill you are, or are you simply choosing to ignore it?” 

“I know I’m sick,” his shoulders rise and fall, “That doesn’t make it not worth it.”

She quirks a brow. “I don’t follow.”

“The way you’re talking. You’re making it sound like it’s not worth getting sick for you. Like I should have just let you go without the umbrella, and let you be the one who gets sick because of it.”

Kyoko’s hands find a home on her hips. “Should I not be concerned with your lack of self-preservation?”

“No, I…” He grins a bit guiltily, looking like a child caught sneaking an extra cookie. It’s a  small comfort to her that he’s aware of this. She wishes he might actually handle it. “I think you probably should be a bit worried about that… but what I’m trying to say, though, is that you don’t need to feel guilty. You didn’t know I was sacrificing my umbrella for you, and I’m the one who chose to do it, so it’s not like it’s your fault. And really, both of us are happy – you got to your case drier than you would have otherwise, and I got to help out my friend. Win-win, right?”

Her groaning at the statement is no surprise. They both knew she would do as much. “I fear I might never understand your logic, Naegi-kun. I’m almost wondering if that fever of yours might be clouding your judgement.”

He scoffs, placing the gaming system down on his belly. His tone is wrought with mock indignation. “It’s not that bad. Feel free to check if you want.”

“Fine,” she huffs half-jokingly, “Perhaps I will.”

“Fine.”

With movements as ginger as possible, Kyoko slides the towel off his forehead and places it on the bedside table. Just holding it she could sense the heat it gathered from his skin, but experiencing the sensation for herself would be a different matter altogether. Tucking her hair to one side to keep from tickling his face, she leans down and ever so kindly places her lips against his forehead. 

If his fever didn’t make him run hot before, his face is burning like a bonfire now. She swears he must have let out a squeak when her lips met his head, too shocked and embarrassed for words. Is it horrible of her to say that she relishes the reaction? For his sake, she tries not to dwell too long, but the memory is something she’ll hold onto for much longer. His gaze follows her closely as she withdraws, eyes wide, mouth sputtering all kinds of nonsense. Her shoulders rise and fall lazily as she watches him, knowing exactly the question on his mind. It’s a few seconds before he can get it out for himself. 

“W-Why didn’t y-you use your h-hands?”

For once she’s proud to raise up her hands. They’re a key part of her triumph. “Gloves. Wouldn’t have been able to feel anything,” she teases, “And I must say, Naegi-kun, you are running just as high as I thought. Maybe I was right about that fever.”

Her teasing doesn’t seem to take effect, only the growing realization that her lips have just been on him. Teenage boys are so easy to embarrass, she snickers to herself. She can’t help but love the way he’s gawking at her, like that’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to him. So cute and innocent. That’s her Makoto, and she wouldn’t change him for the world. 

That doesn’t mean, of course, that she doesn’t consider her little indirect forehead kiss her revenge. 

Chapter Text

Kyoko never knew what it was like to have a good father.

Well, perhaps that is only half-true. Once upon a time, she might have had some idea of what that was like, but any memory of such a thing has long since been worn and faded away by time. A mere child’s memory was not strong enough to hold into adulthood – especially not within a life as chaotic as hers – so the way she sees it, there is no use in trying to recall. 

Maybe Jin truly did love her. So what? Even if he loved her, how could she believe it when he left her? How should she come to think kindly of a man who ran off with his tail between his legs the first chance he got? Why would he leave her behind with the father he claimed to loathe? She’d never understand him, although sometimes she wishes she could – just sit together in a café, drinking tea and slowly taking apart his mind – but his untimely demise made that dream more than a little impossible. What would she even say if she were to ask him about his life? Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you love me when I needed you to? Did I do something wrong? Why did you want me only once I was successful? Why do I still want you to hold me?

The broken dream and her aching heart are enough to curl her hands into fists. There is no use pouring over the fool called Jin Kirigiri, yet she can’t stop herself from wondering. Wondering why he had to be that way, why he really left, and if he would have come back to her forever if he could. A few years ago, she’d have never thought it to be within the realm of possibility, but time had proven she would do well to make her judgements less hastily. Though her father dropped the ball in raising her, the man he left her with was not much better.

To this day, Kyoko is not sure that she loves her grandfather. In fact, she’s not certain as to whether or not she ever did. She supposes in some way she must have. Mostly when she was little, she wagers. In the days before she learned to question him. Back then he was the adult who knew best; he was the one meant to care for and protect her. Pah. Any person with a brain could have seen that Fuhito cared little about her protection. No, what he cared about was her functionality.  

As the sole heir to the Kirigiri line, she would be his successor. She would be the detective that would best all others globally, and the perfect poster child for supporting the causes and the justices that her grandfather believed in. Their work came first and foremost, and there wasn’t much apart from that. Fuhito was scarcely cruel to her, but he was never very affectionate, either. Good work was an expectation. It wasn’t often that she would hear words of praise, and rewards for her performances were unheard of. Everything was about work and the minimal amount of self-care required. She recalled even their leisure time being taken up by detective work, so they didn’t have much time to connect. Although, perhaps it was presumptuous of her to assume that Fuhito would have wanted to. Any time they engaged in leisure, it was always a ploy for something. Game of chess? Testing her planning and strategy skills. Reading a novel? It would have to be a mystery or something with a twist, something that she would have to figure out. Going shopping? Well, certainly a girl of her age could identify who might be a potential shoplifter. Every instance of her life from age eight onward revolved around her advancement into the next Kirigiri heir, and though she never thought she minded it at the time… it began to weigh on her more as the years went by.

If it hadn’t been for Hope’s Peak and the promise she made to herself about sticking it to her father, she wonders if she would have given it all up. No, she answers herself. Likely not. It was the only key to love that she’d had since she lost Yui, and furthermore, her work as a detective is something that grew into far more than a job. It’s her identity. It may have started as Fuhito’s plan for her, but it is a facet of her own persona now. As far as she’s concerned, it is about the only good thing he’s ever given her – apart from food and shelter, of course. Not love, though. Never love.

Some would have expect, that after all she’d been through, she might have grown a distaste for men. Between her absent father, her cold paternal grandfather, and overprotective maternal grandfather, she hasn’t exactly had the best experiences. Couple that with having attended an all-girls’ school prior to her attendance of Hope’s Peak, and one would at least question how she feels. Were they unreliable, fickle, and self-serving in her eyes? Did they deserve more ire than they ever got? The answer, from her perspective, is not really. One couldn’t judge the average man by the actions of others, so long as he took action to stop malicious acts when he saw them. No, what Kyoko used to judge was fathers. Absent, birthday-forgetting, success-starving, checkbox-filling fathers. All of these men were those she could and did condemn. Those she still does, as a matter of fact. It is a hard task, to build a good father, and she finds she has seen far too many fail at it.

Or maybe it is just that her own trauma makes her tune into it more.  Friends at Hope’s Peak had nice fathers, or so she heard. Aoi’s father sent her extra money for donuts around exam season to destress, and Kiyotaka’s father called him often to make sure he was getting adequate rest. Hifumi’s father was always sending him corny jokes via text, and Chihiro’s father wrote pages and pages of pride-filled letters. Still, it seemed that these fathers were few and far in between. Leon, Byakuya, and Celestia held little emotional connection to their fathers, or so she remembers. Sayaka loved hers, but was always disconnected from him because of their work schedules. As for Yasuhiro, well, they bonded more than once over the dislike they each held for theirs. He didn’t have one either, but at the very least, he remembered what his was like. She never had that. She only saw from the outside what a father figure was like. If she pictured it in her mind, the image was always idealistic: someone sweet, caring, and patient. A man who could be brave and strong when needed, but not so harsh that he would hurt others. Someone who would be determined to nurture and protect the life he’d brought into the world.

Oh, how her face had lit aflame when she first realized the man she pictured was not just any man, but an older Makoto Naegi. 

The affliction caught her back in high school, where she had denied it to herself vehemently. After all, they were so young then, how could she really judge what kind of man he would be? Sure, Makoto had confessed to her his longing to be a father someday; and sure, he’d always been one of the nicest boys in the class… but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It just meant that he was a sweetheart about the future he might like to have. Lots of men endeavoured to become fathers, yet not everyone  was right for the job. There was no guarantee of Makoto being the man she’d pictured, but somehow it seemed the more she heard him talk about it, the more the image persisted. 

She remembered the first time they’d sat and talked about it — really talked about it. The two of them were laying on the ridge of the school fountain, listening to the trickling water, taking in the approaching sunset painted of soft pinks and elegant oranges. They had just finished their first set of exams for the year, and hoped to visit a nearby restaurant to celebrate… but instead found themselves watching the sun drift to sleep, discussing the futures that lived in their wildest dreams. She recalled Makoto apologizing to her after the conversation concluded. He had thought that time wouldn’t have gotten away from them so far, but in truth, she wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

“I think, if I were to have kids, I’d want two.” He told her, his eyes shining like the stars. A smile stretched across his face, but she wasn’t sure if he was even aware that he was doing it. Somehow,she found that that made it even better. Had she had any more control over her stoicism, perhaps she might have joined him. “Maybe three. I don’t know, it sorta depends on how well I handle the first two.” 

She nodded gently in response, unsure of how to understand the warmth resting in her chest. Something about hearing about these life plans from him made her heart skip a beat. Why should they, though? It wasn’t like his future involved her in any way… was she secretly hoping it did? Ugh. It was not the time for armchair diagnosing herself with lovesickness… Even if she now concedes that she totally was hoping for that at the time.

“Do you ever think about stuff like that, Kirigiri-san? Settling down and starting a family and all that?” 

His voice rang with thoughtfulness and innocence, but for her, it was pretty much the equivalent of a wet fish to the face. Her cheeks burned intensely at the inquiry. She didn’t think it was directed at her as a “will you have this life with me” question, yet it somehow felt like one… Ugh. Her grandfather would have been so disappointed if he knew that she fell apart like that. The couple of minutes it took for her mind to stop spinning would already have saddened him, and if he knew that she was trying to push away the mental image of herself in a white wedding gown? Fuhito would have given her the scolding of her life. 

“Well, I-I… um… no, n-not entirely.”

Thankfully in spite of her awkwardness, Makoto said nothing. He just laughed and shrugged his shoulders, like the future was not the most terrifying thing in the world. “I guess that makes sense. Being a detective is a pretty lonely thing, you’ll probably be so busy travelling the world and helping people that you might not have time to settle down.”

Fingers tapping the stony edge gracelessly, she continued her reply: “That’s not really what I meant.”

He lifted his head off the edge to peer at her from closer, blinking in surprise. He looked ridiculous, trying to lean all the way back like that, and she had to fight off a snicker. Somehow, even when he looked so goofy, he still struck her as impossibly charming. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to put words in your mouth. What were you thinking?”

“Well, I… I’ve had little luck with parental figures of my own. I’m not confident in my own abilities and judgements, and my demeanour is less than inviting… I expect I would be too cold for a child.”

She wasn’t sure whether she should be offended or not when he nodded respectfully. Granted, she knew she came across as such, but with all of the opening up she did for him, she’d have really thought there might have been at least some hesitation. Fortunately, that thought prevailed over her for only a few minutes, as Makoto got to speaking again.

“Ah, yeah, I get that. It would be pretty tough if you’ve always been told that you need to be a certain way. For what it’s worth, though, I think you’d make a great mom!”

God, the sweetness of that boy made her want to scream. “You do?”

“Yeah! I mean, you might not seem so friendly on the surface, but you’re actually really nice. You’re also super smart and wise, and I think you could share a lot of good life lessons with a kid. Plus, while it sucks that you’ve gone through what you have, in a way, it could almost help you be a better parent yourself. You know exactly what you would have wanted and needed, and you would know how to be that for someone else, too.”

Kyoko blinked once. Twice. Three times. Was her face on fire again? It definitely felt like it must be turning red. She prayed that he wouldn’t notice.  “I... never thought of it that way.”

“I… I mean, I am our resident optimist.” He chuckled awkwardly, his finger moving to scratch at his face. His face had since moved back down since his ridiculous attempt to meet her eyes, but she could hear his blush in his voice. She fought to keep a giggle inside at the thought of his embarrassment. “I guess I just got to thinking about it… You don’t always give yourself enough credit for how great you are, Kirigiri-san. You’re much more likeable than you think.”

Now it was her turn to laugh, although hers did not come out half as anxiety-twinged as his did. “That’s just like you, Naegi-kun. Always lifting people up. I suppose you truly are our resident optimist.”

“S-Sorry…”

“Don’t be. That’s something that I’ve always liked about you.” 

The two stayed at the fountain for only a bit longer after that, for they knew they should probably clear out by nightfall. Plus, the restaurant he hoped to take her to only stayed open for so long, and he didn’t want to inconvenience them by arriving before closing time. Classic Makoto Naegi. Always thinking of others… and in Kyoko’s case, always staying within her mind. 

As mortifying as it was to admit, that image of him in fatherhood lingered in her mind long after that interaction. Long, long after, she confesses. Their time in Future Foundation, for example, had lent itself to a myriad of options for testing her hypothesis. She distinctly remembered the times he ducked away from his work to play with children who were for so long forced to act as anything but. The little ones used to all pool around him when Branch 14 visited major cities, their bright eyes glittering at him in awe, until one of them worked up the courage to ask if he was really the Ultimate Hope. She still recalls how a smile would play at his lips, and he would reply that he was, but it was mostly just a nickname that he got from his dear friend. In fact, she may recall a speech about how each of the children themselves could be the Ultimate Hope too, if they chose to be. That, she concedes, was another obvious point to his dadliness: the guy was and still is pretty corny, but only in the sweetest of ways.

No matter how she tried to push it away, to deny it, to reason that it couldn’t be so, Makoto painted a picture of the perfect father. Even when his youth began to fade away and maturity took root, he seemed to grow more into the man she believed he might be. It is one of the things she remembers liking when they began dating. At that point uncertainty still held her in its grasp, but the more time they spent together, her faith started to renew. 

These days, she is proud to say that Makoto is the man who challenged all expectations she had about fatherhood. He is the man who proved to her once and for all that a father could be great. It had been hard to trust, but he had been persistent and patient, gentle and sweet. Fathers were flaky, unreliable, and cared little for their families. They did their jobs as breadwinners and little else, if even that. Yet there was no proof that Makoto would be the same. There was no proof because he took a sledgehammer to her doubts, destroyed and broke them, until she had nothing left but the pieces to be crafted into something new. A new resiliency.

This worry, this feeling she used to have… it’s what she thinks about late at night when she’s all alone. His destruction of doubt has always been so effortless. Some nights she muses about whether or not he even knows what he’s done, or if it is all just some exceptionally sweet accident. She’s not sure she minds either way. The confidence and trust he’s given her is a great weight off her shoulders, and makes her think that perhaps healing is possible.

When or how that healing begins, she’s not sure – it’s possible that it already has. After all, from where she’s standing now, the future looks like it has begun to get pretty damn blissful.

“ Husha-bye, husha-bye… my good baby, sleep.” Makoto’s voice, light and airy, rises above the night as he cradles their daughter in his arms, smiling down at her as he sings. “ Where did my boy’s babysitter go? Beyond that mountain, back to her home.” 

A grin slips past her stoicism as their baby girl coos at her father, a sleepy smile on her face. She’s happy, but unwilling to rest her eyes.. Their little Hope is a stubborn one. Makoto jokes that she gets it from her mother, and with the way she herself often refuses slumber, Kyoko isn’t reluctant to agree.

“ As a souvenir from her home, what did you get? A toy drum and a shō flute… a toy drum and a shō flute… ”

Her husband’s voice trails off as the lullaby draws to a close, his gaze still fixed admiringly on Hope. The little girl seems to shift slightly in his arms, drawing herself closer to his chest, like she wants to feel more of her father’s warmth. It’s so like her to wake them up for this. In all the parenting books they read in the months leading up to her birth, they learned a seemingly uncountable multitude of reasons as to why a baby might cry in the night… but none of them detailed that sometimes, just sometimes, your baby might simply wake you up for a cuddle. 

“Someone’s being indignant again,” he snickers as he presses a kiss to her forehead, still unaware of his wife lingering in the doorway, “I like spending time with you too, my sunflower, but you’ve really got to sleep. Daddy has work tomorrow morning, and you have a fun day planned with Mommy and Auntie Komaru. We need our rest.”

“Babuh,” Hope babbles in retort, nuzzling her face further into his chest, “Babba…”

“Yes, I know that all the cool kids stay up late, but you’re only four months old. You only recently learned how to hold up that head of yours, you shouldn’t worry about all that. You’ve got other important things to do, like learning to eat solid foods or starting to recognize colours!” 

Kyoko snorts in the doorway. She loves it when he talks to Hope like she comprehends what he’s saying. If she had the chance, she would have loved to listen a little bit longer, but it appears that her laughter was her downfall. The moment the snort escapes through her nose, Makoto’s gaze lifts up to look at her. Thankfully he doesn’t look too upset, but his eyebrows raise in questioning, and his cheeks flush a little. 

It takes him a few seconds before he lets out a soft laugh. “Hi honey,” he snickers, glancing back down at Hope, who is currently fascinating herself with how easy it is to stick her tongue out of her mouth, “How long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough,” she says with a smile, “That was a nice lullaby you sang to her.”

A grin of his own sneaks across his face. “It’s the same one my mother used to sing to me when I was little. I thought Hopey might like it.”

Ugh. Of course he would come up with a nickname like that for her. Hopey… Makoto is so sweet to his daughter. Seeing the two of them cuddled up together makes her heart melt, and those little pet names only make that affection stronger. She adores them both with all that she is. 

“She certainly seemed to.”

“Still didn’t get her to sleep, though.” 

Kyoko’s shoulders rise and fall. “She’s just being stubborn… or she wants an encore.” 

His eyes flick down to her once more, gently tapping at her button nose. Hope giggles delightedly in response. “What do you think, Hopey? Do you want another go around?” He glances out at his wife out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe a little Mommy-Daddy duet?” 

She lets out a sigh and leans against the doorframe. Her husband sure is a cheeky one. “You know, once upon a time, I would have objected to ever doing something like that.”

He laughs gently, his teeth grazing his lips ever so slightly, like he’s trying to hide just how much he’s really enjoying this. “And now?” 

“For you and Hope? I’d do anything.” She mumbles, striding into the room and kneeling next to the chair Makoto is sitting on. “Shall we begin, then, Dad?” 

“Of course.”

Joyfully and delicately, the two of them unite once more in song: “ Husha-bye, husha-bye… my good baby, sleep.”

Chapter Text

That picture is all over the internet.

Makoto remembers a time where he struggled to get over twenty likes on his social media posts… and now his face is all over the internet.

No. It’s not just his face. It’s Kyoko’s too. It’s both of theirs, together, lips pressed softly against one another’s. The foam of Makoto’s hot drink still on his mouth. Kyoko’s gloved hands tangled in his hair, knocking his toque off-kilter. The two of them, together, kissing, where the whole world can see them.

Somehow, he’d hoped that with the end of the broadcast of the Killing School Life, people wouldn’t put him on the same pedestal. Sure, his words lifted people up when they were down in the dumps, but in the end… he really was just a guy. A guy who happened to know the right thing to say, a guy who is a little more gung-ho than most people, but still just… a guy. He would never say that he hated his position in society, because he knew how much he meant to people, but seeing people pry into his life like this… Something about it kind of makes his belly squirm.

And that’s just him. There’s no telling how Kyoko will feel about it.

If he has to guess, he pictures her as more than a little uncomfortable. Kyoko has always been a private person, and that isn’t going to stop just because the public feels like they are now entitled to sticking their noses into their business now. It might only get worse. Who knows if he’ll ever get a hug or a kiss again without her checking to make sure the curtains are closed?

… Okay, admittedly, he recognizes that he is being dramatic. Kyoko won’t get that paranoid. He just has to account for what her reaction will be, and he knows that it won’t be all that good. The way his friends seem to be blowing up his phone doesn’t inspire any confidence in his being wrong, either.

Toko: Good job getting caught. You know people are never going to let this go, right?

Yasuhiro: I keep seeing that picture all over the internet, Naegicchi! It’s movin’ fast

Aoi: omg there are literally people on MY socials right now askin bout u and kyoko :O

Komaru: !!!!!!!!!! IT’S EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!

Byakuya: How embarrassing for you. Pick your timing better.

Just looking at his texts makes Makoto groan and toss his phone aside. The damn thing can keep buzzing and buzzing and buzzing for all he cares. It doesn’t matter. Nobody else’s comments will change anything. He and Kyoko will just have to figure this out themselves. After all, it is their picture out there on the internet.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Makoto can do nothing but glance at the clock. 3:56 pm. Kyoko will be back soon. What a thing to come back home to.

Her services had been in high demand as of late – people wanted to know what had become of their loved ones during the Tragedy. It wasn’t an easy job. Though Kyoko had the detective skills to pull it off, he could see the weight she carried on her shoulders. The number of times she came home with a “dead” result bore down on her heavily. He could imagine that this next case would be something of the sort. A mother looking for her teenage son and toddler daughter, if he remembers correctly. The odds were that one of them was gone. It rips a hole in his soul anew that his first thought is that it’s probably the baby.

No. He can’t think about this right now. If that’s what Kyoko is coming home to, on top of the news that their relationship has been leaked to the public, then the least he can do is make the house comfortable.

Rather than sitting around, Makoto leaps to his feet. He takes the time adjusting the pillows on the loveseat where he had been laying, picks up the dishes from his late lunch to set in the sink for washing, and decides to put on some passion flower tea. He’s heard it’s good for reducing stress.

While that boils, he wipes down the counters in the kitchen. If he’s lucky, maybe he can even run a vacuum through the living room before she gets home. Anything to make her more comfortable. As he moves about, his clothed-hand swiping over their smooth countertops, her mind drifts to that photo again – the one of her kissing him on the snowy winter streets.

People didn’t used to kiss each other in public like that. It was considered rude. Is that still how people saw it, he wonders? With the population being so diminished, at times it is easy to forget that you weren’t alone somewhere. He hasn’t actually checked the comments on the picture for himself, so he doesn’t really know what people are saying. Maybe he’s blowing this out of proportion. Maybe this is something that is making people happy… but couldn’t that be uncomfortable too?

He remembers talking with Sayaka about her first boyfriend once. He recalled hearing about the news of their relationship breaking on his mother’s favourite talk show, and then once more when they split not long after. That had piqued his interest. When he finally got around to asking Sayaka why, it was because her manager demanded that she apologize to her fans for dating someone else.  She was meant to appear single so her fans could picture themselves as dating her. When she came through with the apology for the sake of her career, her boyfriend had become distant and dejected. She had to hide him away in the shadows, she said, and he grew to hate it. The tension between them made them split not long after the rumour.

Would people have the same expectations of Kyoko and him? A shiver sneaks down his spine. He hopes not. After all he’s been through, he won’t be apologizing for being with the woman he loves. She shouldn’t have to either.

If this is the expectation that someone has, well… they might have to be prepared to tank their public reputations. Not the worst thing, but it could hurt their jobs. Maybe not as bad as it could have when they were in Future Foundation, but…

His ears catch the sound of a key turning in the lock. One push, then another, and the front door swings open. Kyoko’s home. For a moment, he considers calling out from her to the kitchen all casually, but considering what her day’s probably been like… It might be best if he heads for the front door. So that’s exactly what he does.

“Kyoko, welcome home,” he says, trying to make himself sound as naturally friendly as possible. “How was your day?”

As he rounds the corner, he can see the frown etched into her expression as she peels off her layers of winter clothing. Her lips are pinched tight and her brows are furrowed, and with the way she kicks off her winter boots with no more than a look, he figures his earliest assumption was right on the money. She’s not happy.

“It’s been…” she tears her ear-warmer from her head, messing up her hair. Somehow, even with all the strands askew, he still finds her impossibly beautiful. “Weird.”

“W-Weird?” Makoto echoes, trying not to stumble over his words like a complete dunce. “What made it weird?”

If she notices his trepidation, she doesn’t say anything. She is too focused on grunting to herself as she peels her coat off herself, hanging it up on the hooks in the front hall. She unceremoniously stuffs her ear warmer into the pocket, turning back to him with a bit of a huff. She doesn’t even try to straighten out the rest of her things like she usually would.

“Well, for starters – the children that woman sent me out to look for?”

Makoto nods hesitantly.

“Estranged. Their parents were divorced, and the kids had been living with their father for three years at that point. He died during the Tragedy, but miraculously, both the children survived. The elder brother lost a limb for his sister, and raised her on his own the past few years. You recall she told me she was looking for a toddler, yes?”

Makoto nods again.

“Six years old. And the son is nineteen, not fifteen. She doesn’t even know her own children’s ages and sends me looking for them, and when I determine that something is off about this woman, you know what she confesses to me?”

Makoto’s not sure he wants to know what she confesses.

“She wants to talk to her son because she wants money.” If Kyoko were someone with a tendency to emote, he figures this is the part where she would throw her arms up dramatically. “She owes a debt to some gang that manifested during the Tragedy, and instead of caring about what became of her children, she wants me to find them to ask them for money.”

Makoto’s brows furrow. “So what did you do?”

She heaves a heavy sigh, her gaze flitting down to the ground to watch the snow melt in the heat of their home. “I refused to tell her where they were, and directed her to some peacekeeping groups… but that’s all I could do.”

“Was she mad?”

“Very cross, yes. She refused payment. Over a week’s worth of effort was completely wasted.”

“Oh, Kyoko…” Now he feels even worse about the prospect of bringing up that photo. Part of him wonders if he should just leave it, but he knows if she finds out herself, she’ll be even more angry with him for not telling her right away. “That’s awful, I’m sorry… I don’t know if it means much, but it sounds like you did right by those kids. I’m sure they appreciate what you did for them.”

Her shoulders relax ever so slightly. “Thank you, Makoto… but unfortunately that’s not even where my weird day ends.”

He quirks a brow. “It’s not?”

Her mouth twitches slightly, and for a moment he thinks he might have done something wrong. Leave the toilet seat up in the middle of the night, maybe? He hasn’t done that since he was fifteen, but you never know.

“You’re an open book, Makoto. I know you’ve seen the picture.” His blood runs cold, but he tries not to react too heavily. As stoic as she can be, even he can see that she is not… reacting quite like he thought she would. It is best that he stay as neutral as he can, too. “I have as well.”

He licks his lips, unsure of what to say. “Why don’t we come sit down? I’ve made you some tea. We can talk about it on the couch.”

Kyoko grunts her thanks and shuffles her way to the couch. He can’t tell based on demeanour how poorly she feels about it, but all he can tell is that it’s not too heavy, anyway. Maybe the weight of that woman’s audacity is still so overwhelming that she can’t even be bothered to be horribly upset about the exposure. Perhaps she doesn’t even feel it at all, considering her lacking social media. Who knows, it’s possible the whole thing could just not have sunken in! He has no way of knowing what she’s got going on in that head of hers, and he won’t until he sits her down and gets her talking – so sit her down and get her talking he does. All that, with a cup of tea.

She accepts the mug from him with what he thinks was supposed to be a grateful smile, and takes a sip as soon as she can. The speed with which she drinks it reminds him of a detective noir, where the downtrodden and frustrated detective takes a swig of booze from a flask. It’s a funny mental image in relation to his slightly disheveled girlfriend.

Silently, Makoto takes a seat beside her, pushing a smile if only to be the more stable one. She has listened to him time and time again after he’s had a hard day at work; surely, he can listen to her ramble for a few minutes about that photo. She must have something to say about the photo.

“So,” Makoto says, doing his best to keep his voice even, “The photo.”

Kyoko nods. “The photo.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

She heaves a heavy sigh. “I’m… feeling about it, that much is for certain.”

“Wouldn’t be able to tell by your face.” Makoto jokes. She doesn’t laugh – just shakes her head. A small part of him feels guilty for the joke, even though he knows she would take any offence from it. “…Sorry.”

She raises a hand. “Don’t be.”

I know you; her subtext reads. I know you just want to diffuse the tension. She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t have to. They know each other well enough by now to know their meanings.

Makoto smiles weakly at her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. It’s not a comfortable position by any means, but it captures for him just how defeated he feels. He’s never been this present in the public eye before. He’s not sure what to do.

Then again, does she know any better than he does? The Kirigiris made it a point to stay out of sight. It was safer that way.

“This really is… new. To me, I mean,” Makoto begins, “To both of us, I think.”

Kyoko nods again. “Very few people were interested in my romantic endeavours before the broadcast.”

Same here, he almost says. “A lot of people have seen it, too. I’ve been getting comments all over whatever’s left of my social media… And the texts have been coming from everyone non-stop. Have you been getting those too?”

“Yes.” Kyoko’s gloved fingers drum on the edge of her mug softly. “Aoi was essentially spamming my cell phone. She assumed I would be upset and wanted to ensure that I was okay.”

That makes sense. Though all the survivors of the School Life of Mutual Killing had a close-knit relationship – the kind you could only share with the people you almost died with – Aoi and Kyoko had developed a particularly close friendship. For someone who once claimed she would refuse all connection with others in the name of protecting herself, Kyoko sure did spend a lot of time caring for Aoi. Aoi, big-hearted and loving girl that she was, returned the favour ten-fold.    

“A-And are you?”

“Am I what? Okay?”

“Well.” Makoto scratches at his cheek awkwardly. “Yeah, that, but also… are you upset?”

Kyoko’s brows knit together slightly as she stares at him, blinking.

“It’s just that you’re very private,” he blurts out, answering a question nobody asked, “And since you’re not used to this sort of thing happening, I thought… I was worried you were going to be unhappy.”

She leans back in her seat, sighing. “Well, I’m not pleased about it, if that’s what you mean. It is a violation of our privacy, our safety, and it has probably ruined me for any sort of public display of affection ever again.”

Makoto tries not to pout a little at that. He doesn’t like getting caught as much as the next guy, but physical affection from Kyoko is already so rare. Getting it much less won’t help her overcome her shyness, and it certainly won’t fulfill his kisses and cuddles quota.

He must look sad, though, because Kyoko starts to retract her statement.

“I… I merely mean that I will be paranoid about it for awhile, that is all – and as we both know, I am quite good at being paranoid.”

He shrugs, chuckling softly. “You’re a detective. It comes with the territory.”

She raises the mug to her lips, taking in a long, frustrated sip. “You’re telling me… Nonetheless, I suppose I should admit that I don’t consider it the worst thing that possibly could have happened.”

Makoto’s eyebrows raise. “You don’t?”

“No. It is a violation of our privacy, but I don’t blame them.”

“You don’t?” He repeats again, rather stupidly. If Kyoko notices, she doesn’t really say much of anything about it. She’s too lost in her own thoughts.

“Like it or not, Makoto, you have a reputation.”

I? How about we?! I was not the only person on that broadcast… and I technically got my reputation from you.

The words long to fall from his lips, but they should far too much like an accusation. He does not mean them as one, especially not towards his girlfriend. It’s not her fault that she spoke from the heart and made something come true. Besides, there must have been some realm of truth to it, if others seemed to catch onto it, too.

“People look up to you. You are a symbol of this world’s hope – a choice for the future when the sea of despair seemed unending. Your time spent at Future Foundation trying to help people likely only exacerbated the public’s positive perception of you.”

Makoto finds himself frowning. “So that means they need to pry into my personal life?”

Kyoko rolls her eyes. Part of him wants to be offended, but after the day she’s had, he figures she’s entitled to have a little bit of an attitude… Just this once. “It means they see you being in love as further proof of hope.”

Oh. He hadn’t quite thought of it like that, but he supposes she does have a point. He got so wrapped up in the idea of all of the gossip flying around and the loss of his privacy, he almost forgot that this had a deeper meaning than just what he would experience himself. The core of people’s concern was not only the fact that he was in love with his broadcast companion, but rather that their love was a symbol of futurity. If they could move on from their pain, learn to love after all they had seen, then perhaps the rest of the world could, too. If hope was the opposite of despair, then love would be the opposite of the hate they had all seen so much of.

How funny that Kyoko always considered him the most hopeful person she knew, yet she was the one who had to remind him of the light in this situation. Heh. Perhaps he has more of an influence on her than he thought.

“I guess that makes sense.” Makoto rubs at the back of his neck. “People do consider love to be one of the most hopeful things in this world.”

Kyoko shrugs her shoulders, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Perhaps they aren’t wrong.”

The fact that it’s Kyoko saying this makes him chuckle. Years ago, back when they first met, he would never have dreamed that he would hear those words coming out of her mouth. Cynical, jaded Kyoko Kirigiri would not have been the type to voice her belief in the goodness of humanity, nor that love could be anything more than something that burned. How times had changed.

Kyoko seems to notice this laugh, too, because she gives a bit of one herself. “What about that amuses you?”

He takes his turn to shrug. “It’s just not like you to be so sentimental.”

Rouge rises in her cheeks, and she waves him off. “Oh, and who’s fault is that?”

“We really have had an effect on each other.”

“Indeed.”

“Maybe that’s the hopeful part for them, too,” he snickers. “That we could grow and change, together. Fall in love and leave a positive impact on each other. I mean, everyone would have seen just as much as I did that you’re not the same girl they saw on the broadcast.”

If Kyoko was blushing before, she’s blushing even harder now. He loves it. Somehow, he thinks just watching her is making him start to blush, too. “Yes, well… I had someone who was a bit relentless in trying to convince me that it was right to change.”

Makoto can’t help but smile. “So did I. I would never have become as strong as I am now without you. Maybe that’s why everyone is so excited.”

“Because you’re turning me into pudding?” Kyoko half-snickers, shaking her head. She used to pride herself so greatly on the fact that she was a woman of stone, and now she’s laughing about how much he loves her – laughing about how different she is now. Part of him almost wonders what her past self would think of her, this way. He knows his past self would have loved it.

“Because it’s proof that people can change, and heal, and be better.” If his grin was big before, it’s only getting bigger. Without a second thought, his hand finds her thigh, pressing up against it comfortingly. “And that the result of that change is a love between people, something that is not easily broken by despair.”

The contact makes a smile play at Kyoko’s lips. “Humans are social creatures. We revel in each other’s joy more than each other’s sorrow.”

“So you’re okay with the photo being out there?”

She shrugs her shoulders, softly. Her smile wavers a bit, but for his sake, she seems to try to keep it on. “I don’t love it, and yet, if it is what the world needs to recover… I suppose that just this time, I will survive… And you?”

Makoto, heart warm with his girlfriend’s kind words, finds himself shrugging back at her. “As long as you’re okay, I will be too.”

Kyoko leans into his shoulder, pushing herself up close. “Then that’s all I can ask.”

Chapter Text

Kyoko has a keen awareness of her boyfriend’s current… free time.

Well, if you asked him, he would tell you that the time wasn’t really all that free. Just because he wasn’t in a meeting or handling student issues didn’t mean that he had all the time in the world. There was still plenty to do as the headmaster of a school like Hope’s Peak, one that had a myriad of talented but trouble-seeking students. Somehow, even with the end of the Tragedy and the abolishment of the Reserve Course/Main Course system, that little thing never seemed to change. She knows Makoto doesn’t mind it. He never would.  After all, the kids who attend Hope’s Peak now probably had to grow up much faster than they should have because of what they had seen. The least he could do was let them be creative, wild, and fun – even if that ultimately was more paperwork for him.

Paperwork. That was usually his something, the thing that would make him insist that he had no free time – not even for his beautiful, beloved girlfriend.

It isn’t as if Kyoko is utterly deprived by her boyfriend, nor does she have an appetite for him so insatiable that she just never seems to have had enough of him. No, neither of those things are the problem. It’s just that, for whatever reason, the danger of wanting to be with him here at work is so much more. She likes that even the casual showing of affection between the two of them is forbidden. She’s never been so scandalous as to go past anything but a kiss, but even that, she is not permitted to take. Both she and her boyfriend are responsible for engaging in the utmost professionalism while Hope’s Peak is in their care, and while Kyoko completely understands why, she finds that it doesn’t stop her from this wanting.

The fact that she cannot control the wanting, no matter how hard she may try, is why she is headed to Makoto’s office now.

Improper it may be, but sometimes, a woman just needs to kiss her boyfriend and not care who is watching.

This is the thought she keeps in mind as she struts towards her boyfriend’s office. What can she say? She loves the thrill. Life has become so quaint since they opened Hope’s Peak, and although she won’t take it for granted given everything they’ve been through… She can’t help but want to add a bit of zest to their lives. Nothing that will hurt, but just… something that will make both their hearts beat a little faster. The thought almost makes her giggle like a meek schoolgirl.

The halls of Hope’s Peak are eerily quiet, save for the sound of her high-heeled boots clacking against the tiled floors and the faint voices of teachers instructing their students just beyond the hallway’s walls. The school is not yet populous enough to be filled with a great deal of noise, but there is some, and Kyoko cannot help but enjoy what she can hear as she makes her way down the hall. The students may in theory be keeping her from her boyfriend, but the joy of them having a future is enough to make her forgive them for that. Besides, it’s not like at this point she is open to being deterred from what she wants.

Her walk down the hallway is quick and simple, not interfered with. Perhaps it’s her intimidating gaze or the strength of her gait, but even those who do cross her path don’t seem particularly interested in stopping her for a conversation or even sparing her a glance of acknowledgement. Their heads dip down and they just keep walking, and for a moment, she wonders if they think she must be on her way to scold the headmaster for something.  Though he is higher up in the scholastic food chain by a mile, given that she is only part-timing to focus on detective work, the students all seem to get the impression that she completely dominates him. It’s not something she is unused to people assuming, mind you, considering her serious personality and his gentle, cheerful one. Every once in a while, she even hears rumours that it’s truly she who is calling the shots, and Makoto is just the nice man making everything happen.

If only they knew that I call the shots behind closed doors, too, she thinks with a smirk.

She tries not to let her amusement show too greatly as she makes her way down the hall. That would surely ruin her strict, serious image. Besides, to capture Makoto at his best moment, she has to have a particular demeanour about it – anything else would tamper with her plans. She keeps her face straight and her eyes locked forward, marching confidently towards her mission. As she comes upon the doors to the Headmaster’s Office, she finds that she doesn’t even bother knocking before prying them open. As soon as she can see through even the slightest crack, she catches a glimpse of Makoto and notices how he immediately perks up. How cute. His face only seems to light up in further interest when he realizes who it is coming to keep him company. She has to fight not to giggle as she slips into the room with ease, closing the door tightly behind her. Nobody needs to know that she is disturbing the headmaster’s peace. This little moment, it can stay private between the two of them.

“Kyoko?” Makoto says, staring at her from across the way with this innocently curious expression on his face that honestly kind of makes her heart melt. Once upon a time, it would have horrified her to turn into pudding over a man, but now, she’s a little more comfortable embracing her affections. After all, Makoto isn’t just any man. “I’m surprised to see you here. Is everything okay?”

It’s all Kyoko can do to keep a neutral face when she stops dead, staring him right in the eyes. “Take off your clothes.”

Makoto’s flesh turns fifteen different shades of crimson in a matter of four seconds. That has to be some kind of world record, she thinks amusedly to herself.

“W-What?!” He sputters, slack-jawed, unable to believe what his partner has just said to him.

There might have been more, had she the self-control to keep it going, but the sight of his rose-red face is too funny to bear. She can’t help but snicker at the sight, her lips cracking into a warm smile. Makoto is just so much fun to tease – and, thankfully, he’s a good sport about it, too. As soon as he realizes that she’s played a joke on him, he starts laughing along, too. The relief on his face is instant as he wipes his brow with the back of his arm.

“You’re… rotten, Kyoko Kirigiri,” he half-snickers, dropping his pen on the desk, “You really had me there.”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, not sounding nor feeling sorry at all, “I couldn’t help myself. You really are an open book.”

Makoto shrugs, leaning forward on the desk. His face is still pinkish in places, but the embarrassment is fading, and even with that in place, he is still unbearably charming to her. He’s adorable when he’s flustered, but still so sweet on the eyes in his natural state, too. How is she supposed to maintain a professional decorum around this man when he’s just so delightful to be around?

It sounds silly, she supposes, when you put it like that – but it’s just the truth, as far as she’s concerned. She feels like a smitten schoolgirl somedays. It’s embarrassing and electrifying all at the same time.

Makoto seems to only shake his head at her teasing, heaving a sigh as if to ask what he’s going to do with her. It is not the first time the two of them have gone on like this, not by a long shot, and Kyoko can’t help but love how familiar it all feels. Their relationship is still young, but it makes it feel like they’ve been together for years.

“Is there a reason you want to come see me, Kirigiri-san?”

Kyoko raises her eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Kirigiri-san?” she parrots, folding her arms across her chest. Just a minute ago it was the much more familiar Kyoko, and now…? Oh, he can try and make this business-like all he pleases, but she came here on a much different kind of business. Makoto must notice the hint of coyness in her voice, because his smile begins to melt and turn a bit sheepish.

“W-Well, it’s… this is a school, and nobody really knows about us yet,” he laughs, “If anyone heard us acting too close, they might get the wrong idea.”

She quirks a brow. “And who do you think is eavesdropping on us?” she looks around the room, a small part of her – a more paranoid part – almost wondering if he has a point. Cameras loved them once. Who's to say that they wouldn’t again? “There is no one here but us. The things that go on behind closed doors are our business.”

Feeling her heart skip a beat, she takes this opportunity to move closer to her partner. Her walk is meant to be sultry as she struts to his side, but her lacking experience in the area of seduction just makes her feel a bit stupid. Thankfully, she is Makoto’s only experience with a woman intending to pursue him, so he turns into a bit of a puddle for her anyway. His face warms as she approaches, and when she places a hand on the back of his office chair, leaning over him so her long lavender hair hangs down over top of him, she can actually hear his breath hitch. She loves it. His eyes are clouded with a mixture of excitement and worry, and she knows that he must get butterflies in his stomach when she opens her mouth to speak once more.

“There is no one here but you and I, Makoto. This free time that you have, it’s just for us.”

Makoto actually gulps. She swears she sees his eyes flick to the door briefly, like he’s worried that someone is going to barge in. “F-For us?”

She nods. “You’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I never see you.” she struts herself right in front of him, and for a moment, she contemplates plopping herself right down on his lap… but something about that just feels a bit too scandalous. She opts to hop right up on his desk instead, not really thinking about the fact that that might not be much better. She tilts her head teasingly at him. “Surely you can make some time for your significant other, can’t you?”

The sweat must be beading on Makoto’s skin now. He pushes himself to his feet, although he doesn’t seem exactly sure why he does it. For a moment, just a flicker of a moment, it looks as if he might want to protest – push her away, remind her that she’s supposed to be the more responsible one of the two of them – but it dies. Instead, his eyes can do nothing but fall to her lips, looking dazed and confused.

“I… I thought…?”

“You thought what?”

“You’re not, like, propositioning me right now, right?”

“For what?”

“For…” his face reddens again. “I thought we talked about not being ready for that right now.”

Kyoko scrunches up her nose, almost as if disgusted by the prospect. “I’m not propositioning you for that, no.”

The worry fades just a bit, and she notices him start to nibble on his lip ever so slightly. He doesn’t know what’s going to come out of her mouth next – she can tell. She wonders if he’s enjoying the uncertainty. “B-But for something, yeah?”

She sighs and shakes her head, gesturing him over to her. “Just hold your tongue for a minute and kiss me.”

Makoto’s eyes widen for a second, processing the information. The moment he does, however, he follows her instructions with ease. Rushing over, he is now just about at her level, his hand slipping along the underside of her jaw, tilting her head towards him a bit for better access to her lips. She tips her head up a bit to help, and tries not to smile to herself at how grateful he seems for the assistance. Makoto is a pleasant but inexperienced kisser. He likes to try extra hard to make his kisses good.

When he connects their lips, she’s almost surprised by how warm they are. In the midst of a chilly winter, the presence of his warmth is more than a little welcome. It pairs well with the taste – caramel and espresso, perhaps even a hint of whipped cream, although she recognizes that she could be imagining that part. Makoto is the only man she’s met who is so comfortable with ordering a caramel macchiato, but tasting it here on his lips, she finds she can understand what he’s talking about when he says it truly is the best coffee drink. Sweet, and warm… just like him. Soft, too. Soft like his smile, soft like his heart, are his lips. She used to think boys would have unkempt lips, cracked and unpleasant… but Makoto’s were always soft to the point of being almost silken. At times, kissing him felt so perfect that it was almost like it was unreal. Why else would she put herself at the mercy of being caught if she didn’t love it this much?

Her heart swells with affection as his fingers tangle in her hair, tucking some of the silvery-purple strands behind her ear as he deepens their kiss. She hums appreciatively. He’s taken the tips she’s given him. She can’t help but smile against him. She never used to think she would be able to feel such happiness, yet now, the two of them are infinitely together, infinitely connected… In this context, the two of them kissing would be considered so improper, but if it’s really that big of a deal, why does it feel so right? This is all Kyoko can think about, all she can dream of, as she parts her lips to allow Makoto’s tongue to slip into her mouth. Everything about this moment is too perfect, and she could stay in it forever if fate would allow her to. This is all she wanted today – just a flawless moment with her boyfriend, the one man who had destroyed her preconceptions of love. If fate could allow her that, then that was all she needed.

Unfortunately, however, fate finds a disciple in Byakuya Togami.

The door swings open in the blink of an eye. Neither Makoto nor Kyoko has a chance to react or resist as it does. It swings open large and wide, with no discretion or thought given to it, the perfect embodiment of Byakuya and his callous nature. At any other time, she might leap up to break apart from Makoto, but the realization hits her so slowly she doesn’t have the time. Kyoko would swear on her grandfather’s life that she didn’t hear Byakuya’s footsteps coming down the hall, nor did she know that he would have business with Makoto at this hour. She had no idea about him also sharing the gap in his schedule. Her main focus, and quite frankly her only concern, was that Makoto had this free time.

It's what makes it all the more aggravating that Byakuya reacts in loud, disapproving disgust.

“Ugh!”

Makoto breaks off the kiss the second he hears Byakuya’s voice, his face flushing bright red once more. At this point, she’s wondering if he may end up staying like that permanently. Out of the corner of her eye, Kyoko can see her plum-coloured lipstick smudged on Makoto’s mouth. Were the situation less compromising, she might have laughed, yet with Byakuya’s eyes boring into them…

“Of all the-! What is the matter with you two?!” He stomps his foot on the ground like a child, or an employer infuriated with his insubordinate employees. He probably sees them as the latter, if she had to guess. Still, even with this thought in her head, she notices that he seems unable to hide his own embarrassment. The tips of his ears, much like Makoto’s entire face, are tinged pink, and he seems to be darting his eyes around everywhere but their faces. Much as he might dislike admitting it, they are his friends. Even for him, this must stir some odd feelings. It’s no secret to her that many of their companions don’t think of them as sexual beings. They do like to make jokes about their current absence of a sex life. “This is extremely unprofessional!”

Kyoko’s lips press into a flat line. In the back of her mind, she knows that some part of Byakuya is right. There really is a lot to be said about employees, particularly two educators, who seem utterly incapable of keeping their hands off each other. That being said, he is the one who rudely shoved the door open without so much as a single knock. He just assumed Makoto should have this time available to him because he thought that it was free on his schedule. She contemplates laying into him for that in an effort to save face. Truth be told, she doesn’t care much that they’ve been caught, considering it was only by Byakuya, but she knows it will bother Makoto. That is the only reason she even considers trying to reason with their friend.

“It’s… um…” Makoto stammers, reminding her of an anime character just bulleting with sweat, “Well, I… I can… explain…?”

The nervous chuckle he lets out, combined with the scratching at his cheek, makes Kyoko think that that would be unlikely. He looks like he could sweat right through his suit. She could see him fitting in in a sauna right about now.

“Explain what, exactly?” Byakuya snaps. “There is no good reason for you two to… to… To be so brazenly sucking face in the middle of your work day! Have you no shame?”

“That’s quite enough, Togami-kun,” Kyoko scolds, long before she can actually consider whether or not she wants to let him keep going. Without interrupting, they’ll get by easier, but at the same time, she dislikes the way he’s speaking to them. They most definitely were not kissing hard enough to qualify as “sucking face”. Tongue-kissing? Maybe, but there was no face-eating involved, and she intends to make that very clear to him. “Perhaps you have learned your lesson now about knocking before you go opening doors?”

Byakuya clutches his chest in offence. “Me?! You were the ones who-”

Kyoko folds her arms across her chest, sliding off Makoto’s desk to stand and fully face her accuser. This is not the first time that the two of them have engaged in a battle of wits, nor will it be the last, but she knows that in order to win this one, she must look him straight in the eye. Then, and only then, will he start to falter. It is crucial that she make that signature Kirigiri glare work for her once more.

“Who were having a private moment of passion which you so rudely interrupted by bursting through the door.”

Makoto looks like he wants to speak, to add something of substance to the conversation that they are having, but he seems to know well enough to keep his mouth shut. With his level of humiliation, he is in no condition to help Kyoko against Byakuya, nor cut down what Byakuya is saying about him and Kyoko. He is best to just sit and watch, look and listen. Like a good boy, he understands that.

“Certainly you must understand the importance of privacy, Togami-kun. I don’t imagine Mr. Pennyworth came bursting through your door anytime he pleased. You must extend the same courtesy to Makoto and myself. We certainly wouldn’t go bursting through your door.”

Byakuya grits his teeth. “You’re deflecting, you vile little minx.”

Minx, Kyoko thinks. That is new. He has never called me that before. She is not offended. Byakuya’s insults scarcely mean much of anything. They just fly out of his mouth as easily as air goes in.

“Deflecting from what, exactly? Your lack of manners?” She taps her chin. “I think we should be able to forgive you for your transgression, but I surely think we will struggle more if you refuse to let bygones be bygones.”

Byakuya releases a low growl from somewhere in his throat. It reminds her a bit of an animal, but it is not vicious enough to tell her anything other than he is preparing to back down.

“Come now, Togami-kun. You’re embarrassing Makoto.” She shakes her head. “I just wanted a moment alone with my boyfriend. Are you really going to shame us for that? You must understand how important it is for a couple to be together.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He huffs, folding his own arms across his chest. “Utterly ridiculous. Fix your conduct, next time, instead of trying to use that silver tongue of yours on me.”

Kyoko chuckles softly, brushing some hair out of her face. “But I thought you believed me to be using my silver tongue on Makoto?”

She feels her boyfriend lightly jab her in the ribs for that comment. She doesn’t care. The way Byakuya’s face lights up like a firecracker is too amusing for her to just shove away. The shock of the statement strikes him so badly that he actually has to turn away. Makoto will forgive her for it later.

“Naegi-kun, please inform me when Kirigiri-san departs. I have important matters to discuss with you.” Kyoko wants to laugh at how Byakuya won’t even direct his attention at her anymore. He is too busy looking as red as a tomato, shuffling around the papers he is carrying in her arms. If it were anyone else, Kyoko might have felt a bit sorry about this – but given his conduct as of late, it made for a bit of nice revenge. “Until then, I advise both of you – keep your clothes on.”

It is clear on Makoto’s face that he wants to protest the clothes comment, but Byakuya is spinning on his heel and rushing out the door before they know it. As he leaves, Kyoko contemplates calling after him a reminder to knock on the door next time, but decides against it. She’s probably gotten the poor man enough as it is. Instead, she turns her focus back to Makoto, who looks to be a cross between frustrated and sheepish.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he mutters, his shoulders slumping, “You shouldn’t have antagonized him like that.”

Kyoko shrugs. “Ideally, I wouldn’t have had to, but you know he’s not above making a scene. You’ve only just become headmaster here… It wouldn’t do for you to be dismissed in your first few months for something that wasn’t your idea.”

Makoto weighs her words in his head, seeming to understand what she is driving at. Still, that sheepish look remains on his face, like he just can’t let everything about it go. “Still… we probably shouldn’t have been making out at work.”

“Not with the door unlocked, anyway.” She finds herself staring back at that door, hand to her chin as she loses herself in thought. “I could have sworn I locked it.”

He shrugs. “Maybe the lock’s broken?”

“Maybe… That won’t do, though.”

“Hm?” Makoto quirks a brow. “Why not?”

“Well…” she turns back to him, draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning in close. She brushes her nose against his, able to feel the heat radiating off him as she places herself in front of him. “I don’t think this will be the end of our little moments of stolen free time.”

Makoto gulps loudly. “B-But we just got caught…”

Kyoko smiles a devilish smile. They are still early on in their relationship, still so early on that they both struggle to think of things in a particular context, but… “Maybe that’s part of the thrill of it.”

She swears those words could have made Makoto faint.

Chapter Text

Miss Amachi is clearly getting sick of their class. 

Not that Makoto can say that he blames her. As the self-proclaimed normal guy looking in on all the elites, he knows how much of a handful they can be. Those who fought to be the best of the best at something were often subject to their own quirks, so to speak, and when you put all of these quirky, quirky people together… It can become a recipe for chaos. Each day that Miss Amachi was able to wrangle them for homeroom was a miracle. They have always been a rambunctious bunch; the type of people with fantastical ideals and headstrong attitudes to back them up. He loves them, and he knows his teacher does too, but she can understand why she’s fed up with them right now.

It probably doesn’t help that their plans for the day, which would have been filled with all kinds of fun and excitement, have been torn apart as easily as a wet piece of paper. His mother always said that she loved the experiences she had on her school trip to the ski lodge, and when he left, he’d hoped he would return understanding why. An itinerary of skiing, tubing, hot chocolate drinking, snowball fighting, buffet-eating… he would have loved every second of that, especially with his friends and classmates all at his side. He’d had these images in his mind on the ride there: making overly extravagant drinks at the hot chocolate bar with Kyoko, rough housing and throwing snowballs with Chihiro and Mondo, racing Aoi and Sakura down the ski hill… He’d have loved for them to come to pass – and in fairness, some of them did – just not as many as he hoped for. He had a freak snowstorm to thank for that. 

Still, even with his disappointment, he isn’t the one taking it the hardest. After all, if they can’t leave the lodge, he’s sure that he can find something to do with himself for a few hours. He’d picked up a really good shounen manga before they left, and he knew Kyoko brought her portable chess set, and there were plenty of good channels on the lodge TVs. It isn’t as if there aren't exactly things to do, but his classmates are – for lack of better words – kind of being big babies about it. 

“I’m so booooored.” Junko whines, throwing herself dramatically against the lobby’s plush brown loveseat. Makoto can’t help but snicker slightly as she sinks further and further into the fabric. She had already been sitting there for the past twenty minutes, but apparently, she needed to throw herself down again to emphasize just how bored she is. “What are we even supposed to do here? There’s no cell service, the internet sucks because of the storm… We’re totally cut off!”

Miss Amachi sighs disapprovingly, shaking her head. “Enoshima-san, there’s more to life than the functions of your cell phone. What need do you have to connect with the outside world for entertainment when you have so many friends right here?” 

Junko scoffs and rolls her eyes. He didn’t think that that was at all a ridiculous question to ask, but it must be a stupid one from her point of view. “I know that, but the ‘more to life’ and ‘entertainment with friends’ thing is totally out of whack, because it’s snowing like we’re in Alberta’s asshole!”

“Alberta…?” He hears Yasuhiro ask Kiyotaka quietly. 

“A Canadian province known for its harsh winters.” 

“I’m sure you can all find something to entertain yourselves with while you’re here. What about that roleplaying game Yamada-san was telling us about?” Miss Amachi turns to Hifumi with a bright smile on her face, “What was it called again?”

Hifumi, surprisingly, does not seem moved by her suggestion. In fact, his tone sounds defeated more than anything. “Dungeons and Dragons,” he grumbles, eyes still fixed on the rosewood beams across the ceiling, “I’m afraid I must confess that I have no materials prepared, however. A campaign in these circumstances would be… unsatisfying.” 

Their teacher’s lips curve into a frown. “Well, I guess we can just save that for another time… but maybe a different board game could help?”

Makoto wrinkles his nose. If it’s all the same to everyone else, he would like to avoid board games, please and thank you. After the last time he played Monopoly and unleashed the competitive beast that is Celestia when she’s not winning… Well, he’s not sure that those kinds of games are in their best interest right now. You know, considering that they’re all essentially trapped in a confined space together. 

“Do they even have board games here?” Mondo grunts from next to Hifumi, his arms folded across his chest. “’Cause I know for sure that none of us brought any. Except for maybe Kirigiri-san and her chess set.”

Kyoko shrugs, her attention more focused on a piece of sweater fuzz stuck in her hair than the conversation at hand. She tries and misses at pulling it out repeatedly, until Sayaka reaches over to help. “You can only play chess with two people. It’s not ideal for our class situation right now.” 

Mondo nods in acknowledgement. No more words roll off his tongue, nor anyone else’s. There’s just a lot of sitting and staring: at each other, at the ceiling, at their own fingernails, at the other people hanging around the lodge. Is there truly nothing to be done or said about the scenario in which they’ve found themselves? Even Makoto, someone who considers himself to be skilled at cheering up others and finding ways to connect, can think of no solution that doesn’t involve everyone splitting up. At any other time, this might actually be something that he would suggest, but everyone had actually been having fun together this past week or so. Even those who didn’t get along, like Leon and Hifumi, were actually finding ways to connect. There had been all kinds of nights spent having karaoke parties, warming up in hot springs, playing fun team building games; only for them to have their spirits mercilessly destroyed by the cancellation of the day’s activities. Who even knew when they would be able to get back out there?! It would certainly be a lot to expect that the lodge workers could just shovel everyone out, especially while the storm is still raging. Most things they wanted to do would still probably have a safety hazard to them. So really, what was the point?

After a few minutes of silence, Miss Amachi clues into the fact that her students have given up. Her lower lip sticks out in a pout as her eyes dart between them, clearly pondering if there’s anything she can do to change their minds. There isn’t, and both she and Makoto know it, but he appreciates her willingness to try anyway. 

“Well,” she announces to no one in particular, her hands stuffing themselves into the pockets of her puffy coat, “I’m sure that sooner or later, the sixteen of you will come up with something to do to entertain yourselves while you’re here. You’re a clever bunch. I would know, I’m the one who grades your test papers.”

The students offer her little in return for her jokey-compliment, aside from mouth twitches that Makoto assumes are meant to be smiles. Fortunately, Miss Amachi doesn’t seem all that perturbed. She grins enough for all of them, her acorn-coloured eyes radiating kindness as she looks at each of them.

“While you guys sit around like a couple of lumps and figure out what you’re going to do, how about I see about getting some time in the kitchens? I think I could handle getting some hot chocolate and homemade banana muffins ready for you. How does that sound?” 

Now we’re talking, Makoto muses excitedly to himself. Miss Amachi’s banana muffins are practically famous at Hope’s Peak, but most of all amongst her students. As the supervisor of the school’s cheerleading club, she helps contribute to all the fundraisers and charity causes – which means every time there’s a bake sale, those delectable muffins get made. The class usually only gets them if there are leftovers from the sale (which there usually aren’t), but the off-times that they do… good god, they are amazing. She definitely knows how to entice them properly. 

“That sounds wonderful, Amachi-sensei, thank you.” Sayaka declares on behalf of the group, her voice dripping with delight. “We really appreciate it.” 

Their homeroom teacher nods her reply. “You’re quite welcome. You know how much I like seeing all of you smile. While I’m gone though, I really do expect you to try and find some way to have fun. The last thing you should be doing is wasting a day of bonding by complaining about just that. Now, is there anything else you need before I’m off?”

The group exchanges looks with each other for thirty seconds before Sayaka once again speaks for everyone. “I think we’re alright, thank you!” 

Throwing one last nod their way, their teacher spins on her heel and wanders towards the front desk. Makoto can’t help but wonder how easy it will be for her to get into the kitchens to get that done. According to what Byakuya said on the way here, this lodge has been dealing with Hope’s Peak Academy school trips for over a decade, so he imagines their staff are not strangers to unusual requests. That being said, he doesn’t know for himself how accommodating they can really be, and if they’ll just go along with some things because the Academy has many, many investors. 

With the departure of their teacher, a brief silence falls over the students once more. The glue that has held them together for the past few hours is gone. Now, they sit alone and still bored, with everyone else waiting for someone else to come up with an idea of what it is that they’re meant to do. A couple of glances exchange between them, yet nobody gives even the slightest hint that they would like to share with the group. Empty promises had clearly just been made to their poor teacher.

“So…” Yasuhiro purses his lips, making a distinct click sound as he speaks. “Anybody got any ideas on how we can get this party boat on the road?”

Without anyone having to say anything, he can definitely feel someone wanting to correct Yasuhiro about a boat traveling on the road – but it seems like everyone is just too exhausted to take the bait. 

“If we had something to share, wouldn’t we have spoken up sooner?” Byakuya pushes his glasses further up his nose “It’s foolish to even ask.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly hear any better ideas out of ya!”

The taller boy’s eyes do a full rotation, like whatever’s on his mind is the most obvious thing on earth. They’ve been classmates for awhile now, but if he’s being honest, Makoto has never stopped finding Byakuya obnoxious. “That is precisely the point. Unlike the rest of you, I feel no need to waste more time trying to get a team activity underway. Perhaps it’s fate that our activities were canceled, a sign from the universe.”

Celestia lets out a giggle that she only pretends to muffle with her hand. She and Byakuya have a strange relationship: sometimes they’re on the same wavelength, and other times, she likes to push his buttons. “I must say,” she purrs, her faux-French lilt soothing their ears, “I never thought you were the type to believe in fate.” 

“Ever perceptive, Celestia.” Byakuya smirks. “I’m not. I’m just willing to do what it takes to prove my point.”

Kyoko exhales sharply in mockery. Within an instant of the sound, Byakuya’s ice blue stare fixes itself on her, staring accusingly at the girl who dared to question him.. Makoto’s not sure why he’s offended at this point; he and Kyoko snip back and forth at each other like this all the time. Her mocking him isn’t rare, it’s the kind of thing that could happen on any random Tuesday. 

“Do you have something you want to say, Kirigiri-san?” 

The detective’s shoulders rise and fall, her expression maintaining the same neutrality it has held since the day they first met her. “Just that I find your objection to this activity a little laughable. Are you so uncreative that you can’t bother to try and come up with something we can do as a class?” She raises one of her brows as him. “Have you already exhausted all of your brain power trying, or did you not bother in the first place?” 

Celestia giggles again. A quiet declaration of her having taken Kyoko’s side. Byakuya’s hands curl into fists, his eyes narrowing as he watches his opponent. “You have no more maturity than a child. It’s pathetic.”

Yikes, Makoto thinks, already sure that he’s on Kyoko’s side for this one, Talk about a weak retort.

“Ah, yes,” Kyoko’s foot kicks upwards ever so slightly, the mischievous glint in her eyes betraying her amusement, “The man who whines about having to play with the others calls me a child. I must say, I hadn’t expected you to figure me out like that, Togami-kun. Consider me sufficiently… what is it that you say, Naegi-kun?”

She glances over at him expectantly.

“Roasted?” He supplies, half-stupid.

To his surprise, she accepts, the hint of the smirk resting on her face. It’s cute how she believes that this does anything to increase her power against him.  “Roasted.” 

A set of artificial “oohs” come from the rest of their classmates, too content to watch the brainiacs duke it out with poorly utilized slang to acknowledge how off-track they’ve gotten. A part of him considers reminding them of Miss Amachi’s expectation, but the other part of him… honestly really wants to see where this is going. Seeing Byakuya grit his teeth only spurs that desire forward. It’s obvious that he’s attempting to camouflage it and play it off, but it’s not something he does well. 

“Any adult would be concerned if they were asked to waste their time, especially considering that you don’t become successful with only a modicum of effort. You may have time to laze about and play children’s games, Kirigiri-” the lack of honorific is an insult in itself, “-but I have more valuable things to do.” 

Nobody gasps or says anything else. Everyone’s gaze just jumps back to Kyoko, who hasn’t even flinched. She’s a master at stoicism; her mouth doesn’t move or change its hold. Somehow it’s frightening and enticing at the same time. Makoto loves the intensity behind her expression. Focused and powerful… Those are the two perfect words to describe Kyoko Kirigiri. He wonders if it says something about him, finding this attractive. He has always liked strong women.

“It sounds to me like you’re doing a bit of deflecting, Togami-kun. I’m probably twice as busy as you are, doing work that actually matters-” another round of oohs comes with that remark, “-and I’ve made the time. So why can’t you? Are you afraid to be bested in something? Can’t let the middle class get ahead of you?”

Byakuya scoffs, dodging the sharpest of her remarks. Deep down guilt pricks him, yet Makoto can’t help feeling a little proud of Kyoko for giving a jab to which he had no retort. Hypothetically, her comments are in the interest of the greater good, right? Getting everyone to play together? Okay, maybe he cannot justify the sensation. The Togami Conglomerate probably does something important. “Like any of them could beat me. Whatever the game, I could win with ease.”

She quirks a brow as she leans forward, chin raising a little, as if to portray her superiority. “Then what’s the issue? Suggest anything. I’m sure that the rest of us could beat you at it,” she glances over her shoulder, “Right, everyone?”

Makoto quietly wonders if he’s the only person suddenly feeling very attracted to her intensity here. Not that he’s going to ask, considering he’s the one guy in the room with the big crush on her, but… he finds himself being among the first to think of nodding, wanting to offer her some kind of response to give her the sense of being backed up. He doesn’t act right away, but checking with his classmates, a few of them appear to agree. 

The remainder who don’t look a bit like deer caught in headlights. They don’t know what to do or say, yet they’re acutely aware of the fact that they are being addressed. This permeates a quietude, only faint whispers and mumblings exchanged between them as everyone tries to figure out how serious this conflict is, and whether or not they want to be in the middle of it. He’s not sure where to look to find the class’s answer, and he’s certainly not about to face either Kyoko or Byakuya head on — so he continues to glance around the room awkwardly, begging internally for a response from the others, until his eye finally lands on Sayaka. 

Sayaka, who is offering him the prevailing look of ‘help’. Her face is glued to his as her teeth bear down her lower lip, her leg bouncing impatiently as she steals small glances over at Kyoko. She intends to tell him something; he can’t be sure what. If he had to guess, the panicked glimmer in her eye appears to beg that he reign his crush in. The pop idol has been the biggest celebrator of their unity this past week or so, so he can imagine that she’s a bit reluctant to go along with something that appears to divide them so clearly. With all of his curiosity about what Kyoko was doing, he never really thought about how she might feel. He can understand where she’s coming from with her concern. Presumably it is better for them to avoid severity and instead choose to bond without Byakuya if he insists on being unkind, but at the same time, he knows that Kyoko’s motive here goes beyond mocking Byakuya because she can. If Byakuya enjoys squabbling with Celestia, he adores bickering with Kyoko even more so. He’s seen them go at it more than once, and it’s never quite this childish, signalling to him that something here is different than it seems. After all, most of these arguments are a test of cleverness and superiority to Byakuya. It would be out of character for Kyoko to suddenly stoop to anything less.

Huh. When did he gain such a powerful understanding of Kyoko’s thought process? In any case, he has no idea how to communicate “Kyoko has a plan that she’s not letting on” with a facial expression. So instead, he goes for the next best thing: helping his crush enact her plan, while also softly lowering the stakes to something that Sayaka is more comfortable with. “Kirigiri-san, I think you might actually be onto something.”

“Tch.” The utterance is a barb on its own. It stings a little, but Makoto won’t let it grate on him. While he is rarely praised for his cleverness by people that aren’t his mother, he’s smart enough to figure out exactly where Byakuya is going with the noise. “I must say, it is fitting that you’re the one who should speak after her. You’re always trailing after her like some lovesick puppy.”

I am not a lovesick puppy, he almost exclaims, until he remembers that he is. Maybe not to the extent which Byakuya advertises, but it would be a lie to say that he is entirely uninterested. Quietly, he begs his body not to make him blush. 

If Kyoko shares his sentiment in any way, none of it shows on her face. Not even a hint of a reddened cheek. He envies his crush’s stoicism superpowers – just another thing that makes her impossibly cool. “The least you could do is let him finish speaking,” she shakes her head, “Or are you afraid of that, too?”

“I’m not afraid of anything-”

“If you are, your insistent protesting is not doing you any favours-”

“What happened to ‘it’s Naegi-kun’s turn to talk now’?” Makoto whines impatiently, with this being about the only time he’s been unafraid of jumping in between them. His heart skips a beat as soon as it happens, but to his surprise and delight, they are responsive. Kyoko apologizes softly, while Byakuya grunts what would be one from any normal person.

“As I was saying…” He begins, “I think Kirigiri-san might be onto something. Not in the sense that the whole class should gang up on Togami-san for a game, but maybe that we should try and do something that challenges each other when we play. Pushes our limits a bit, you know? They say that situations like that can be the best way of bonding.” 

An inkling of a smile sneaks onto Kyoko’s face, which tells him all he needed to know vis à vis her plan. It’s stunning how in tune with one another they are, and when he takes a moment to check with Sayaka, she too seems settled a bit by the suggestion. He swears he sees her exhale in relief. Even Byakuya’s frustration appears to dissolve, if only by a bit, as he presses the luckster for more information. 

“So your suggestion is that we try to bond in a way that challenges us?” 

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a good game out there for us to play that could help with that.”

Byakuya presses his lips together, seemingly unconvinced.

“Hey,” Makoto improvises, “It’s better than sitting around playing spin the bottle.”

Somewhere nearby there is a protest from Leon. He elects to ignore it. If Leon wants to deal with the possibility of having to kiss Yasuhiro, fine, but he’s just not game for that today.

“What do you suggest we play, then, Naegi-kun? You do seem to be the one who has the ideas, after all. Something generic, I take it?”

Ouch. 

“I guess so. We have a few options, I think. Never have I ever, two truths and a lie, kiss-marry -kill…”

A sudden gasp startles Makoto out of his speech, his attention diverting to the speaker.

Sayaka again, surprisingly. She must be more willing to support the effort now that he has soothed the lions. He takes it as a good sign that her face has lit up like a firework, the rosy pallor of her cheeks and pearly grin reminding him of the look she gets on stage.

“I know! We should totally play truth or dare!” She announces, clapping her hands together. “It’s the perfect way to challenge our preconceptions about each other and have fun as a group! It’s like permission to be bold and crazy and fun!” 

The others respond before he and the discount debate team can even cut in. 

“What a great idea, Maizono-chan!” Junko whoops, pumping her fist in the air like she’s at a concert. “Bring on the drama!” 

“I-I-I don’t usually t-trust this game… but…” Toko’s expression goes dreamy all of the sudden, “M-M-Maybe it’ll be my chance to get a kiss from M-Master…”

Celestia nods her agreement. “It would be a most intriguing endeavour, so I will not object.” 

“Me too,” Yasuhiro laughs, “I haven’t played since I was in middle school. It’ll be fun to give it another shot.” 

All around them, the students chime in, passionately declaring their enthusiasm. Before long it’s only Kyoko and Byakuya who haven’t spoken their consent; however, if the looks on their faces are anything to go on… they’re game for it, too. 

“Very well,” Byakuya sighs, once again going after his glasses, “I imagine I will be able to indulge you all for a few rounds… but I should warn you that I will be ruthless.”

“I don’t think anyone else is going to refrain from pulling out all the stops, Togami-kun,” Kyoko remarks, “After all, this is all in the name of bonding.” 

The tall boy smiles slightly. “In the name of bonding, then, I shall not lose to all of you.”

Flashing Makoto one last small grin, Kyoko leans back in her chair. “Bring it on.”

“C’mon, Muku-chan, just one more mochi ball…” 

“I on’t fink I an fit anowther.”

“Yeah you can! Come on, we used to do this all the time when we were kids!”

“Oh we in’t!”

The class erupts into laughter as Junko tries to stuff another piece into Mukuro’s mouth, her other hand wiping a tissue along her chin to help with any excess drooling. Makoto has to admit, he’s surprised that neither sister is complaining about Junko’s fake nails. He thought for sure Mukuro would whine about her scratching or Junko would gripe about them being ruined, but it doesn’t seem to upset either of them in the slightest. He has to admit, he’s glad to see that they’re in the spirit of the game. Glancing over at the perpetrator of this dare, Kiyotaka, he can’t help but delight even further. All in all, forcing someone to push the limits of their mochi ball capacity is pretty tame, but it totally suits Kiyotaka. For him, it’s like asking someone to dive into the snow in their underwear, so the fact that he appeared to enjoy it so greatly is quite satisfying.

They’ve had a few rounds of the game so far, bouncing from classmate to classmate. For the most part there have been dares, but a few truths have been shed too. Some replies were particularly juicy, and others… not so much. Some might argue against it, but Chihiro’s request to know what Makoto’s most listened to song was (Sayaka’s “Negaigoto Ensemble”, which she cheered loudly about) could be considered infinitely less piquant than Mondo’s question of Aoi’s most embarrassing moment (getting soaked in the rain and having her school skirt blown up by the wind and get stuck there). Enough rounds had passed already for most of the class to have asked already, and as much fun as Makoto is having watching his classmates, he can’t help being weary about the dwindled numbers. After all, Byakuya, one of the reasons they’re even playing right now, is on that short list. He’s almost certain that Kyoko’s jab from earlier is still buzzing in his mind like a fruit fly, and if he knows his peer at all by this point, that means that he’ll be finding a way to get back at her for it. 

“Ikusaba-san, it is quite alright if you are done now!” Kiyotaka bites his lip, but laughter continues to spill out as his shoulders shake. Like everything else about him, his chuckling is loud. “I think you have proven your limits.”

Junko squeezes her sister’s cheeks, much to the other girl’s discomfort. “Naw, she can get a few more in there, can’t you, Muku-chan?” 

A saliva-covered mochi bit pops out and falls to the floor. Mukuro’s face reddens. 

“She’s done, Enoshima-san.” Mondo half-sighs, holding off on his own howling to spare some embarrassment from Kiyotaka’s victim. He reaches to his left and hands Mukuro a paper bag. “It’s time to spit.”

Junko grumbles but doesn’t refuse the bag, opening it up to command her twin to spit. To save face on Mukuro’s behalf, the rest of the group elects to avoid watching. She’s acquired sufficient humiliation from the incident already, no thanks to her sister. As the mochi pieces fall from Mukuro’s mouth, his mind drifts back to Kyoko, who seems completely unphased by the fear currently plaguing him. She’s too busy making small talk with Aoi, talking about how they think they would have done in Mukuro’s shoes. Maybe he’s overthinking this. If Kyoko isn’t worried, why should he be?

As Mukuro finishes depositing the contents of her mouth into a paper bag, Junko calls the group’s attention back to her. Nudging her sister in the arm, she speaks in the voice of an announcer: “Now that that’s over with, it means you’re up, right, Muku-chan?” 

Honestly, Makoto’s not sure how this is going to go. Despite her intimidating and cold exterior, he’s only ever known Mukuro to be nice, as well as surprisingly gentle. It’s unlikely that she would seek to do anything outright cruel, and yet that presents a problem in itself, with the question of ‘is she willing to skip Byakuya’ still dangling in his mind. He does what he can to let it go, choosing instead to have faith in Mukuro’s decisions.

Releasing some fear from his mind, Makoto watches as Mukuro turns her attention to the group in front of her, examining each member of the class carefully. She’s not necessarily out for blood, so he wouldn’t say that her move is calculating, but it definitely seems attentively planned out. She must evaluate who would be the best target for a fulfilling accomplishment, sort of like how she would with an opponent on the battlefield. How funny that she can implement her ultimate talent here of all places.

“Fujisaki-chan.” 

Okay. Definite confirmation of her gentleness, or at least it should be. A handful of their classmates avoided inquiries to Chihiro already, for they worried too much about the programmer’s sensitivity. If Mukuro poses the question now, then she should be confident about how inoffensive it is. 

“Y-Yes…?” 

“Truth or dare, please.”

“Oh! Okay, um…” Chihiro glances at Mondo and Leon, who both shrug. “Truth, p-please?”

“Tell me, Fujisaki-chan. What is the most childish thing that you still insist on doing?”

A grin slips past Makoto’s defenses, and he rushes to cover it with his hand. It’s a good question. A great question, even, because it’s fun and it’s sweet, and it bars Chihiro from having to give a secret he desperately concealed for ages. Whatever he chooses to disclose, it will in all likelihood be adorable. Points for Mukuro!

“Well, I guess it’s a bit embarrassing, but…” He picks at his fingernails absent-mindedly, putting more of his focus into it to avoid everyone’s faces. “Sometimes when I’m really sad, I cuddle with this bear that my dad got for me when I was little. It reminds me of how much he loves me.”  

A few coos of “awww” echo from the girls in the room. Makoto doesn’t blame them for it – he thinks it’s pretty cute too. He understands the feeling of seeking out a symbol of someone’s love when he’s down. It’s something he finds himself doing sometimes too. 

“Thank you for your reply, Fujisaki-chan,” Mukuro dips her head in acknowledgement, “It is now your turn to question someone else.”

Makoto’s muscles tense. At this point, Byakuya is the last person to single out. Though he claimed disinterest in silly games earlier, he cannot be trusted to refrain from complaining about being missed. Honestly, it would probably result in more assertions that he and Kyoko were conspiring, and while that was partially what happened… but the last thing either of them needed was more proof they liked each other, even if they actually did. Well, even if he actually does. Nobody knows about her.

Swallowing hard, he wipes his hands on his jeans and prays for Chihiro to just be mean for once in his life. You know, like that’s a situation that could ever actually happen.

“T-Togami-kun.” Makoto curses internally. “Nobody’s asked you anything yet, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Well then, um… truth or dare, please?”

One of his blond brows twitches upward slightly. “I’d be a coward if I said anything other than dare, wouldn’t I?”

Chihiro suddenly appears teary-eyed, which earns Byakuya a few scowls of disapproval from Chihiro’s Big Brother Brigade. He doesn’t recognize them formally. Thankfully, however, the programmer continues anyway. “I dare you… to um… to say one nice thing about Fukawa-san, please.” 

If only everyone were as kind as Chihiro. Then maybe these games wouldn’t be so goddamn worrying.

“Fine. Fukawa-san is an incredibly skilled writer. I have no interest in the genre of fiction that she spends her time on; however, I must concede that her works do hold a great deal of merit.” 

Chihiro seems to take more joy from Toko’s murmuring (“a little cheap, but I’ll take it if it’s from Master…”) than the victim’s “kind” words, but he ultimately still chooses to accept it. Makoto hopes he’s not the only person who gets the impression that Byakuya is rushing towards his own turn. Surely, if he’d thought it over a little bit, he could come up with something stronger than that. It was no challenge at all, really. The worries about what will happen in the upcoming turn bubble closer to the surface again. 

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Byakuya announces a little too proudly for his liking, “We have hit everyone, so I may speak to whomever I please, yes?”

“Y-yeah, you can.”

A smirk snakes across his lips and his gaze lands squarely on Kyoko. Makoto curses internally again. A worse one, this time, to convey the gravity of the situation to himself. He hates where this is going. 

“Kirigiri-san. Truth or dare?”

Well, you just harshly implied that she would be a coward if she picked anything other than dare, so she’s going to pick dare. 

“Well, I can’t be a coward to you, now can I?” She huffs, eyes rolling and her arms folding across her chest. “I did present this to you as a challenge, so I guess I can indulge you and pick dare. Do your worst.”

He laughs. “My worst I will do. Kirigiri-san, I dare you…”

Don’t be too embarrassing, don’t be too embarrassing, don’t be too embarrassing…

“To play a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven… with your little lovesick puppy.”

The worst curse word he can think of almost tumbles from his mouth; he bites his tongue just to stop it. In spite of his pacifism, right about now his heart is set on punching Byakuya in the face. Someday. Not today. Maybe if he gets that last growth spurt he’s been waiting on. Regardless, his stomach drops at the idea. 

When he looks at Kyoko, her lips are pressed into a thin line, and the rest of her stance is as tightly wound as always. Her cheeks offer no indication of discomfort at the idea, nor does the hold of her jaw. It is only her eyes, intense as ever, that present him with any sense of her emotion. 

“Fine then.” 

If he had a stronger curse word, right now is when he would use it.

How do you tell someone that you’ve always wanted to kiss them, but not in the way you’re about to?

This is the predicament that Makoto is facing right now. 

By now it is no secret to just about everyone that he kind of has a thing for Kyoko. The two of them wouldn’t be shut in this closet together if they didn’t. His obvious crush is the reason why Byakuya even thought of shutting them up here together in the first place. After all, he is clearly seeking to punish her for having the gall to disrespect or discredit him. For whatever reason, this apparently also means that he must punish Makoto, too. And use him as a punishment, for that matter. Wow, he’s just realizing how insulting that is! Not that he has much time to dwell on it. 

Kyoko is standing across from him, reluctant to meet his face. Instead, she peers through the slats in the door, trying to spot Sayaka’s form. While their luck had otherwise been pretty terrible, she had been kind enough to volunteer to supervise them to make sure all went according to plan. It’s a small piece of respite for both of them. Regardless of if they kiss or not, he knows Sayaka will tell everyone they did. She’s not the type to snitch, and she likes both of them enough to be willing to lie without being asked to. She’s always been dependable like that. 

“Are you almost ready out there, Maizono-san?” Kyoko pitches her voice louder, not seeming to notice the slight waver in it. “It smells like wet snow boots in here.”

Ugh. She’s right. He hadn’t noticed in all of his anxiety, but the stench of wet snow clothes is rampant. Would it be childish of him to plug his nose? 

“Sorry, just setting up the timer!” She calls back, letting a brief silence hang in the air. Kyoko doesn’t grant him her attention at all during that time, which only makes his heart pound faster. Is she as nervous as him, or does she resent the situation? “... Aaaand… done! Alright, just let me know when you’re ready to get started.”

Never, thank you!  This is not my ideal first kiss situation at all!

Kyoko steals a quick look at him before turning back to the slats, her shoulders rising and falling like it’s the most natural thing ever. “We can start now.”

Or we could just… not? Like ever?

“Okie dokie…” Another brief pause. “The timer’s started, go!”

Now feels like it would be a really good time to die. 

If he could do so on command, he would.

Unfortunately for him, he can’t, so he resorts instead to staring stupidly at Kyoko – Kyoko. One of his best friends. Someone he’s always admired. The girl he’s been hiding feelings for. The girl he’s loved for so long, but is now so afraid to kiss. 

Just looking at her makes his heart practically thunder in his chest, the noise becoming so loud that it’s like it’s beating in his ears, too. Oh, what has he gotten himself into? She’s standing across from him, eyes shining at him expectantly, her lashes fluttering as she blinks. The light that pours in through the slats allows him to make out the curve of a slight smile on her soft pink lips, and the shade of rose that dusts across her cheeks. As always, she looks beautiful, and as beautiful as she looks, she’s still the most terrifying thing he can conceive of right now.

They haven’t even touched each other yet and already his face is on fire. His palms are slick with sweat, and when he tries to move his hands, they are wracked with tremors. For the sake of romanticism he knows he should no doubt take a step forward, but his legs are like sticks of jello, and the butterflies that beat around in his belly don’t make him want to either. Would she be offended if he threw up? Probably. He doubts it’ll happen, yet a small part of him is still afraid that it’s a potential outcome.

Sensing his desire to stay put, she takes the initiative to step towards him. As she presses her body close to his, he finds himself overwhelmed by her scent – peppermint and pinewood. She must have used the lodge’s shampoo to wash her hair. It’s nice; intoxicating, even. It overwhelms him as she drapes her arms around his neck, adjusting her feet carefully to make sure that there is no chance of stepping on his. Her positioning is so precise that he feels like a slob when reflexes send his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her lower back. She seems to blink in surprise in the movement, and he has to stop himself from blurting out that she doesn’t need to worry about him putting his hands any further down. No matter what, she’s going to think he’s an idiot after this goes down. The least he can do is avoid saying something stupid like that to make it worse. 

His throat tightens with worry as their gazes line up. She’s so close to him now that her breath tickles his face, and he can’t help but think how much he would love this at any other moment. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be kissing her on the ski hill after a fall, or by a warm fire after a long day, or at a karaoke session following a romantically-charged love song. Not here. Not as punishment. Not with everyone watching outside, waiting for the inevitable humiliation that will befall one of them, just because Byakuya is preoccupied with the idea that he’s better than everybody. 

“Should we kiss, then?” She half-sighs, her brows lowered. Her voice is incredibly hushed, so quiet that he doubts even Sayaka could hear. Listening to her speak, he wonders if perhaps he’s not the only person praying for the least awkward outcome possible.

 “Y-Yeah…” is all he can manage.

“Okay.” 

Oh god. 

Forcing himself to shut his eyes, he gives into her; he lets her lean in and do whatever it is she pleases. He stands there, holding her close in his arms, waiting for the sensation of warm, sweet lips against his own… 

But it doesn’t come. Her breath is still there, consistent and smooth, but she doesn’t… she doesn’t kiss him. She just… stands there, her hold on him still strong, her face inches from his own, but doing absolutely nothing. She just doesn’t do it. 

Reluctantly, he peels his eyes open. “I-Is everything okay?”

Her arms break away from his neck, sliding down to his torso. She’s not quite holding him, but she is gripping onto his hoodie. “I can’t do this.” 

Only a moment ago she seemed so gentle and vulnerable, yet now her expression is so… serious. A crease forms between her brows as she searches his face, her teeth grazing her lips like she’s not sure what she should say. 

“W-Why not?” 

I hope it’s not because you think my breath smells bad or something.

“Naegi-kun, I…” She pauses, her grip on his hoodie becoming all that much tighter. “I can tell you are not prepared to do this. All of your muscles are tensed, and you’re shaking like a flag in the wind.”

“Oh…” 

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” 

“No, I just… I-I’m an open book, you’ve said so yourself. I thought I c-could keep it in, make your life easier… I know Togami-kun would give you grief i-if you refused to kiss me.”

The detective exhales slowly, leaning her head back in exasperation. “I’m sorry that Togami-kun thought it would be funny to force you to kiss me as a dare. He seems to be under the impression that it would embarrass me to kiss you or something. He can be too petty for his own good sometimes… It’s not fair of him to use you as punishment for me.” 

A sliver of tension releases from Makoto’s body as it sets in that Kyoko won’t be forcing him to kiss her. It’s a little relief, of course, but the adrenaline is still making him shake pathetically. “He thinks we’re in love…”

“Yes, he does…”

An awkward silence permeates between the two of them for a moment. Neither of them wants to clarify what the status of their relationship is. He imagines that she, too, finds it especially unappealing to do so while locked in a closet together. So he does what he can to relax her a little, letting himself chuckle faintly. “It’s funny that he tried to use me against you like that. I mean, I’m happy to be your punishment any other day, I just think kissing someone like this isn’t really the way to go.”

Wait, wait, wait! Did he just convey that he wouldn’t want to kiss her? That he’d enjoy being any other punishment but this? Oh god, he’s an idiot. She’s going to hate him. They didn’t even actually kiss and he still found some way to-

“You’re right,” she cuts into his thoughts, “Honestly, I don’t think you would be a bad first kiss by any means anyway. In fact, I imagine you’d probably be a pretty good one, I mean-”

She catches her tongue when she realizes what she’s saying. There are a few seconds where she stops, staring at him a little wide-eyed, but she manages to regain composure quickly by pretending to clear her throat. He tries not to get flustered as he thinks about what she could possibly have meant to say next. 

“I… I just mean that having a first kiss with someone who is a friend of mine would be a lot better than someone else.”

Makoto blinks in surprise. “Wait, if we… kissed right now… Would I be your first?” 

“Oh, I um… yes, you would be.” 

She’s having a hard time meeting his eyes, electing instead to pick at the studs on her gloves. It isn’t every day that he sees her become so uncharacteristically shy, and to be honest, the adorableness of this whole situation is totally killing him. The hopeless romantic in him dreams of telling their kids this story someday. 

“That’s okay,” he moves his hands further up her back and pats it a little, “You’d actually have been mine too.” 

Her head lifts to meet him, eyebrows raised in shock. “Really? You’ve never kissed anyone?” 

“Nah, I’m too plain.”

She snorts. “Too modest, maybe, but not too plain. Any girl would be lucky to have you be her first kiss.”

Oh, great. Now he’s the one feeling shy. At this point, though, he can’t say that he minds. Hearing her say that puts a smile on his face, and shoots a warm spark through his chest. “Thanks, Kirigiri-san… I’m sure whoever gets to kiss you will be pretty lucky too. You’re an amazing girl. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me.”

She waves off his compliments, but the sudden return of her dipped head tells him everything. Does he detect a hint of red on those cheeks of hers? Maybe she’s not clear on whether or not she reciprocates his affections, but that doesn’t mean her getting all blushy and cute about his compliments is any less charming… or that she’s not hoping to hide her reciprocity. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, really-”

“No, it’s not nothing,” he interjects, “For someone who tried to isolate herself for so long, insisting that you weren’t worth my attention or time, you’ve been a really great friend to me. You’re always looking out for me, making sure that my luck never gets me into too much trouble. Whenever we’re together, I find that I’m always having fun. To tell you the truth, getting to bond with everyone these past few days has been great, but what’s been the most special to me is getting to spend all this time with you. I’m really glad we get to make these memories together.”

The words don’t come to Kyoko right away. At first he fears he’s upset her, but as the silence goes on, he realizes that he’s made her almost speechless. “T-Thank you, Naegi-kun. I’m… glad we get to make these memories together, too. I hope we can continue to make more of them in the coming days…”

“Me too.”

Lifting her head one last time to stare into his eyes, Kyoko lets a warm smile stretch across her face. “Naegi-kun, do you mind if I ask you for something… a bit unusual?”

He nods, curious about what else there is she could ask him for.

“Do you think we could spend our last few minutes here in a hug?” 

Makoto can think of nothing else to do but nod again, giggling softly as he opens his arms to her again. She practically flings herself into them, leaning nice and close this time, letting him breathe in her comforting smell. She’s so close to him that he can feel the pace of each inhale, and the relaxing of each of her muscles as she puts her hand on the back of his head. As he nuzzles his face further into her shoulder, he can’t help but think that right now, there is nowhere else he would rather be. 

Just outside the door, Sayaka stares at the timer. 30 seconds left. She knows she shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the others. It would put more attention on them. It would create more problems, and yet… 

And yet her finger hits the ‘pause’ button anyway. 

Maybe they can’t see it from themselves yet, but she knows what they’re hiding. She is psychic, after all.

Just a few more minutes.