Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is the price you pay when you love someone.

Fuck, Kyoko hates that that’s still her first thought when she gets into these kinds of situations. Though the fires that licked them are long since death, the thought makes the flesh of her hands burn anew. She can’t afford to think like this. She just can’t. There is nothing about this that she regrets, nothing about her love for Makoto that she regrets. The only thing that could possibly stir up regret is the fact that she didn’t realize that the daughter was twice as clever and cunning as her washed-up old father. The old man would never have thought to kidnap her boyfriend like this, but Miss Matsushina clearly got her brains from her mother. Snagging the love of Kyoko’s life was right up her alley, and god, did she hate her for it.

“You better hurry, Kirigiri-san!” Haia Matsushina sings through her earpiece, her high-pitched voice straining Kyoko’s ears. She can picture her in her mind: sitting maniacally in her father’s chair, spinning around like a child, watching on the monitors as Makoto lies in wait for his knight in shining armour. “Your little swain in distress can’t wait forever, you know!”

There’s a word on the tip of Kyoko’s tongue that starts with a b that she’d like to express, but Haia can’t hear her, so there’s not much of a point. All that matters now is moving as fast as she can to save him. Any anger or regret she’s feeling doesn’t matter. Only the life of her partner, no longer hanging in the balance, is what will make things okay.

God, how long has she been doing this? Haia’s puzzle started this afternoon when she got home from work, and now it’s nightfall. Everything was supposed to be simple. She was supposed to get home from work, take a quick shower, and start getting ready to go out to dinner. With how busy their jobs had been, they had had so little time together. Makoto went out of his way to plan them an adorable date. He’d even bragged to her about how he bought a new, masculine bottle of cologne to smell good just for her. Ocean and teakwood, she thought it was. Teshigara Brand. If everything had gone according to plan, they would be home by now, curled up in the loveseat watching some ridiculous gameshow…

Only the stars are out to see her throw herself head first into this danger. Sweat is dripping down her face and neck as she sprints – something that would kill Makoto, consider he’s always fussing over her hurting an ankle by running in her heels – and each of her breaths comes so shakily you’d have thought she had been running for her entire life. No, just a few hours, with lots of breaks in between. It didn’t matter, though. She couldn’t catch her breath knowing that something could happen to him.

“If you look to your right, you’ll come up on the abandoned warehouse!” Haia chirps into the earpiece, doing her best tour-guide impression. “Did you know that this warehouse was built in 1946, just after the end of the Second World War? Following the sanctions placed on Japan after the conflict, many people in our economy struggled to stay afloat, but the Matsushina family happily prevailed with the use of this warehouse for things that were… absolutely legal at the time!”

I don’t need your damn history lesson.

Resisting the temptation to rip the piece right out of her ear is almost too great of a feat to accomplish, but she knows that on the off chance that Makoto might be here, she needs to keep it close. If she strays even slightly from Haia’s planned course, she’s promised to slit his throat and broadcast it on the Hope’s Peak morning video announcements. It’s annoying to have her so close, but it’s her only guarantee. Hopefully, when this situation ends, she can give that girl the punch in the teeth she deserves. She was always playing coy during the investigations anyway.

The moment her hands connect with the handle of the warehouse door, she doesn’t hesitate to pull it open, slipping in as quietly and discreetly as she can. She’s not so stupid as to believe that Haia isn’t expecting her – she did literally direct her here, after all – but she’s not keen on plunging herself into danger carelessly. For all she knows, Haia has laced the warehouse with various traps and puzzles to catch Kyoko off-guard. Heaven knows she’s already tried that a few times. If this is the end of her journey, then the trials to save him can only be stronger than the last. It wouldn’t be like her to wimp out at the end of a fight. She knows well enough already that she won’t release Makoto without a battle. Whether it’s one of wits or fists, Kyoko is yet to know.

In spite of her attempts to be silent, the warehouse door is so heavy that it can do nothing but close with a slam behind her. Within a matter of seconds, Haia cues all the lights to go on.

Kyoko’s eyes struggle to adjust at first. Fluorescent white light coats everything in the room, starting from the back and gradually chasing each other to the front. All around the warehouse thirty-foot shelves with legs built of rusted steel tower, each of their shelves lined with worn cardboard boxes stuffed to the brim with old machine parts. Out of the corner of her eye, she’s able to make out a dull orange reach forklift, so drained of colour that it reminds her of a child’s beach bucket in the sun. The air is tinged with the smell of metal and paper products, but a small part of her swears she can make out the scent of gasoline. She’ll have to keep an eye out for any cannisters lying around, she thinks as she bites her lip.

“Welcome to the Last Act, Kirigiri-san! You’ve done well so far, but can you make it through the big fight to the finish?” Her tormentor giggles loudly into her ear. “For your beau’s sake, let’s hope you can! I’m sure he feels the same. After all, he’s somewhere in this room!”

In spite of her predictions, her muscles tense anyway at the confirmation. Makoto is here. He’s right here. She’s this close to saving him. If she can just get through this trial, this one last bit of trouble, and then she can bring him home safe and call the police on this crazy bitch.

“But don’t get too excited on me, Kirigiri-san! You still have one last mission ahead of you, and it’s reaaaal doozy!”

“Care to tell me what it is?” She mutters under her breath, punctuating it with a shake of her head. Her tormentor’s showmanship is truly awful. Then again, when you wrestle for your life under Junko Enoshima, the charisma of every other nasty blemish on humanity is going to pale in comparison.

“Just like I said, hidden somewhere in this room is your precious Naegi Makoto! But wait… is he down the rows? Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose! You have twenty minutes to search through all of the spaces between these boxes on the shelves. Somewhere in them, you’ll find Naegi-kun! If you can’t find him though, the boxes surrounding him are loaded with dynamite and some triggering devices. Take too long and boooooooooooom! Little bits of Ultimate Hope everywhere. You’d better do your best to find him quickly.”

Curling her hands into fists, Kyoko curses under her breath. Just as expected, Haia saw rock bottom and decided to dig. The warehouse is nothing short of long and wide, and it could easily take her ages to figure out where he is. Problem is, she doesn’t have that long. Hell, she doesn’t even have anywhere near a realistic amount of time. Haia’s full intention here is to just blow him up, and she’s got to figure out a way to stop it. As her heart begins to pound in her ears, Kyoko takes off running down the first row of shelves that she sees, her ears tuned in to every sound she can make out. Between her heartbeat and the clicking of her boots on concrete, it almost seems like a fool’s errand.

It is not as if she was never trained to solve mysteries on a time limit, but that does not mean that it does not make things harder. Thinking quickly leaves a person more prone to mistakes, and she really cannot afford to be making mistakes right about now. The love of her life is trapped somewhere in this room and essentially on the brink of death. She has no room for error. She was in this position once already, and after tonight, she never wants to be in it again.

God, oh god, okay. She has to focus. She has no choice but to just buckle down and try to focus.

If there is one thing that she has learned about Haia throughout this little puzzle game is that no matter what, she always tries to leave clues. She’s not the type to get satisfaction out of a game that ends with a surprise. There’s just no fun in that, she imagines she would say. This puzzle may not be designed in the interest of being fair, but she knows it is not designed with the interest of being possible. In all trials like these, one must remember that criminals want to test you. They want to see you succeed, to know what you’re capable of, so they can make themselves feel more confident that they can outsmart you. Little men forge big egos, as her Grandpa Tohachiro used to say.

Her first order of business is to check the way the shelving is labelled. Can she even extract anything from this? It’s difficult to say, but this is the perfect place for a first clue. Something here has to be related to what Haia has said.

The first thing she notices, off the top of her head, is that the shelves are not labelled by numbers as one might expect. Instead, they have lettering on them. NTG, NA+, WP, PR, B, GA, and LI.

The letters have no significance to her.

But still, there’s something – there has to be something. NA+ is the first thing that sticks out at her. Among the seven shelving options, it’s the only outlier. Naturally she’s drawn to it, but what does it signify? Why is this one a plus and the others aren’t? A lesser detective might take this as a cue to head down NA+ to search for Makoto. That answer, to her sharpened mind, is too obvious.

Has she seen or heard these abbreviations anywhere before? What else did Haia say?

Her mind falls flat. There has been nothing else but the instructions that she gave when Kyoko entered the warehouse. It’s a real doozy, somewhere in this room is your Naegi Makoto, the boxes are loaded with dynamite, little bits of Ultimate Hope everywhere! …

That’s it! It’s the dynamite! She’s thrown out the chemical compounds of dynamite!

B, GA, LI and PR are all virtually useless to the creation and use of dynamite. They are mere elements on the periodic table. WP is not a chemical compound at all – although she supposes that it could refer to the common use of wood pulp in the explosive – and NA+ refers to sodium nitrate! When put into a chemical compound form, the most common abbreviation of it refers to nitroglycerine, the key ingredient in dynamite! NTG is the correct answer! Thank god for all of those nights she spent cramming with Chihiro for science exams.

She steals one last glance at each of the labels on the shelves, triple checking that she for sure has come to the right conclusion. Time may be lacking, but there can be no mistakes. No matter if he died from a wrong answer or from running out of time, it would eat her alive for the rest of her life, but at least she could say that she did all she was able. With one final nod at her assured answer, Kyoko sprints down that row of shelves, her eyes sliding up and down the towering metal as she tries to discern where he could possibly be.

Just looking at those damn towers is a headache in itself. This is less of a warehouse and more of a storage unit at this point, probably where Haia’s father tried to hide all of his seedy purchases and documents. Even the boxes on the shelves themselves are huge, big and bulky and brown – but a lot of them are littered with symbols. Nothing special, of course. Mostly brand names. It never hurt to keep a good box around if you could find a good use for it. Mr. Matsushina may have been a criminal, but at least he was practical.

Kyoko fully recognizes that it is a strange thought to be having right about now. But this entire situation is strange, and she’s too busy trying to make sense of all of the different brand’s emblems she sees to do much else. The placement of all of these is too deliberate. Each of them is the same colour, with the size of the boxes set proportionate to the decided centre. Wider ones at the sides and perhaps pushed to the back, and taller ones closest to the edge where she can see them. They all seem to cumulate around that edge until they meet at a centre, which so far seems to be the brand box. Each shelf seemed to have a different brand associated with it, and often had a year attached to that brand. The names were mostly unfamiliar. Haia did say the warehouse had been in place since just after World War Two, so she supposes that makes sense. Regardless of whether the boxes just stayed together well or she deliberately placed it as apart of a clue, the unfamiliarity of it served as a good diversion.

For a lesser mind, maybe. Kyoko Kirigiri, however? She could handle this with ease.

“Sit tight, Makoto,” she mutters to herself as she scans the shelves, still trying to replay the important words over and over again in her head, “I’d never forgive myself if you went before me.”

Your little swain in distress… Japan’s sanctions after World War Two… Completely legal acts in 1946… The Last Act of her puzzle show… Twenty minutes to find Makoto…

Most of it is useless information. Stuff she can throw out. That’s part of Haia’s trick with all her babble. She hopes that if she can just talk enough, Kyoko won’t figure out the hidden meaning behind what she says. But she can, and in all honesty, Haia probably suspects that she can, but she wants all of this to be done so she can test to see if Kyoko is a worthy opponent. The Matsushinas are truly a vile people if they would bring Makoto in harm’s way just to try and see how well she fares against them. She will relish getting to throw Haia in prison after this.

Her hands curl into fists as she continues to make her way down, her steps slowing as she tries to drink in the sight. It’s hard not to tremble a little. Adrenaline swirls through her veins with every breath, but she cannot afford to let it cloud her judgement. As much as she wants to end this and save Makoto, no rushing can happen. It would be nice to skip to the part where she can hold him in her arms again, though.

Oh, she’s going to hold him so tight. By the time she finds him, he’ll probably be pretty worn-out – smeared with sweat and whatever grime Haia’s put him through, clothes torn from wherever those brigands grabbed at him, with half-lidded eyes that will only be able to show his comfort at being with her again. She’ll probably have to take him to the hospital just to get checked out. She prays they didn’t leave too much of a mark on him, both emotionally and physically. Unprofessional as it may be, she might promise those brutes a couple of their own for laying a finger on him. The poor thing has been through enough already.

Her eyes flick down to check her cellphone for a moment. Still no service – that had been taken away early on in this whole process – but at the very least she can see that eight minutes have passed. Twelve remain, then. Somehow, that feels like all the time in the world and not nearly enough. She slips the phone back into her jacket pocket and mutters something to herself, although even she is not entirely certain of whether it is actually coherent. She really hates this job sometimes.

Moving through these halls so slowly feels nonsensical, but for whatever reason, she just has this gut feeling that she’s close to her next breakthrough. One of these brands will have to have some sort of meaning for her, right? It’s not like Haia was forthcoming about any other clues, and while she didn’t play nice, she didn’t play dirty, either. There has to be something that Kyoko is missing… but what? What is it that her eyes just aren’t seeing?

Your little swain in distress… Japan’s sanctions after World War Two… Completely legal acts in 1946… The Last Act of her puzzle show… Twenty minutes to find Makoto…

Is it 1946?

That’s the only thing that would seem to make sense right about now. Unless one of the brands is called “The Last Act”, or there’s some World War Two manufactures here or something. Neither of those seems terribly likely, though. She’ll keep an eye out for them, of course, but perhaps the best next course of action for her will be putting a target out there for herself. A sense of direction might just be the push she needs to get the next clue into her mind.

1946… 1946… No, nothing on the right. It’s all other garbage she can’t make any sense of. Shaking her head, she resolves to turn back around and check the left side. Surely that will have something, right? At the very least, she knows there is no clue for this one. Left, right, doesn’t matter – she’s got to use her eyes for this one.

Boxes, brands, and more boxes. She’s going to be so sick of boxes after this. Knowing that it must be on the left this time, she settles for going section by section, eyes tracing up the stacks one by one. Tanaka Iga 888, Ichimonjiya Wasuke 1000, Uniqlo 1984, Maruo Clothing 1940. No good. A few steps over, and she’s onto the next one. Chikuma Shobo 1946 – 1946? 1946! She could nearly leap for joy when she sees that number pop up, and so close to the floor, too. She’s just about ready to dive into the shelves and pluck her beloved from the centre when something inside her forces a pause. Is this a red herring?

Figuring out the composition of dynamite is a fairly easy task for a detective. In fact, she would argue that it is something one often just has to know when they start out on the job. But unfortunately, the same cannot be said for books. While she knows enough to know that Chikuma Shobo is a publishing company, she has no way of knowing if that is their actual inception year. Companies will often put their year on the boxes, that’s true, but some companies have a spotty concept of what their year actually was. In the case of books, it could also be about what was published in that year, versus when the books actually started coming out. The box is stamped differently than some of the others, after all. It looks a little too good to be true.

Creeping closer to the shelf, Kyoko leans in, her left ear pointed towards the boxes. The only sound in here so far has been her footsteps, words, and the soft buzzing of the overhead lights, so she’s fairly confident that she’ll be able to pick up something. In the event that Haia merely slipped him a sedative, his throat muscles should be relaxed enough for her to hear his snoring. She could almost laugh at that, remembering how she used to complain about him doing that when they first started dating – and now it is all she wants to hear! Still, even if Haia went a riskier route with her knockout, she might still be able to pick up the sound of breathing. All she has to do is listen closely.

…

…

…

A minute passes.

No sound.

Haia did not mention consequences for making mistakes, but it still seems too risky to try and check. She wouldn’t put it past her to do such a thing. Like she’s already told herself a million times, the Matsushina family is devilish. Who knows what they could do?

She swallows thickly. Part of her wants to believe that this is it and that this day of torture is finally over, but there’s a small, nagging piece of her that tells her to turn away. It’s all she can do not wince when she does, continuing to scour the aisle.

Chugai Pharmaceutical Co. 1943, Sanden Corporation 1943, Horiba Ltd. 1945… These years are being deliberately blended together, aren’t they? Group all of the 1940s years close enough, and it will be more difficult for her to determine which one is 1946. That must be Haia’s goal! It’s all Kyoko can do not to just start up and climbing the next section, heart pounding as she thinks about how Makoto must be there. She has to see first. There is no acting without seeing.

Another couple steps over, and she goes again.

Calbee Incorporate 1949, Honda 1948, Suntory Holdings Limited 1946, Fukushima Galilei 1951.

Suntory Holdings Limited! Kyoko’s heart leaps with joy as her eyes lock onto the box at the top of the shelf, even if she finds herself squinting to double check that that is, in fact, what it says.

As the image of the box settles in her mind, Kyoko leaps into action, grips onto the large screws of the shelf without another word or a thought, and desperately begins to hoist herself up onto the next level. It’s difficult – she does not have the tone in her arms necessary for the task – but she manages, shimmying awkwardly up the side until she can hook her foot onto the second shelf. It will be that much more difficult to get onto the fourth one, where the Suntory boxes are, so she figures that it’s at least a little appropriate for her to try and take a rest. Still, she has to kick a bit to wedge herself out a space between all the boxes, and by the time she gets there, she is already breathing heavily.

But she has to do this. For Makoto.

In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. And then it’s back to work again.

She goes through each segment like this, one after the other, until finally she finds herself on the fourth shelf. As she carefully swings her exhausted body on to the shelf, dropping on her hands and knees, Haia’s shrill voice sounds through her ear piece.

“Goooooood work Kirigiri-san, you really are as good as they say!”

The detective jumps at the sound. She’s never startled easily, but that shrieky voice compared with a sudden sound? Ugh.

“Your deductions, based on oh-so little info, have led you to the horrific chamber of your beloved! He’s held captive right here, just as promised!”

There’s a catch, isn’t there? There’s always a catch.

“Take a look and you’ll be able to see him, right as you left him! … Well, maybe not exactly, but a bit of roughing up does happen when you take a hostage. You can’t really blame my guys, can you? For such a small man, Naegi-kun sure put up a fight!”

I can and will blame you and your cronies, you bitch, Kyoko nearly spits, but she knows any replies to her opponent are in vain. Rather than waste further time, she pushes herself to her feet, hoping to ignore how her legs wobble under her weight. Whether it’s the height or the effort that has given her jelly legs, she doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter now – not when she rises to a full view of the shelf, littered with those same, stupid boxes as the eye can see.

“We had to restrain him a little bit, you see. Knock him out cold and put him in a little prison, you know? It wasn’t my plan at first, but hey, what is it if not part of the fun?”

At this point she doesn’t even have the energy to respond to that statement. All she can do is stare, dumbstruck, at the sea of cardboard before her. It’s like the world’s most business casual labyrinth. Luck at least favours her in the sense that the boxes themselves are not sealed, but finding someone in this will not be easy. Silently, she prays that Haia will have one last clue to give in her spiel that will make this whole exercise with the ear piece worthwhile.

“Speaking of fun, I hope you know that now you’ve got about… eight minutes remaining! Look at you, splitting up your time like that. If you can find Naegi-kun, take out your earpiece and touch it to the bracelet on his wrist, that will disable the devices meant to explode the dynamite. If you can’t, then I guess this is good-bye! Say hi to Daddy for me. I’m sure that you’ll see each other in hell!”

The threat shoots fear through her nerves, like ice water trickling down her spine, but she knows there is no use letting herself get worked up. Like a madwoman, she starts to fling boxes open to reveal their insides. Anything empty or useless, she pushes them over the side.

Maybe I can do that with the dynamite if I find it, she thinks to herself. It is not guaranteed saviour for herself nor Makoto. The explosion would likely destroy the base of the shelving, sending the two of them falling to their deaths, but even a chance is better than certainty. With this hope in mind, she goes back to flipping open boxes, hoping that maybe one of them will have a whisper of something.

She’s somewhere around the sixteenth box when she catches a whiff of something… familiar.

Kind of like… teakwood, and… the ocean…

“Guess you forgot to fix his scent before you got him all wrapped up in your practical joke, huh?” She snickers to no one in particular. Ocean and teakwood. She’d thought the scent was nice when Makoto first had her take a sniff, but now, she cannot get enough. Her box-tossing moves twice as fast, heart thundering in her head as she follows her nose. “Come on, Makoto… Lead me back to you, just like you always do.”

The scent makes it easier. Not impossibly simple, but easier. The movements go much faster. Her heart pounds even louder, and she finds herself sneaking more and more glances at her phone. Time is ticking away, but with every inhale, she is one step closer. One step closer. Before long it seems as if the scent is too much to bear, that he’s right under her nose and she just can’t seem him. Heat prickles her skin in excitement and worry as she flips open the lid of another box, doing each one faster than the last, over and over again until finally, as her head cranes over a particularly large one, a glint of light sneaks through the unsealed crack – and she spots, with her own eyes, a tuft of sandy brown hair.

Relief drops onto her like a sudden rainfall. Nearly all of her urgency from before is gone as she lifts the flaps of cardboard open to reveal Makoto. Bruised and sedated, but otherwise unharmed, Makoto.

She wastes no time plucking her ear piece from its home and inserting it into the bracelet on his wrist, smirking in satisfaction to herself as the thing beeps in recognition. Only a few seconds pass before a robotic voice murmurs: “Explosive devices disabled. Congratulations on qualifying for the final battle, Kirigiri-san. See you in three months.”

The final battle…

She lets out a sigh she didn’t even realize that she had been holding. Tough as it will be, she cannot bring herself to worry about that right now. She’ll try to get in contact with the police department before then, let them know the situation. That’s about all she can do. Otherwise, though, her major concern is getting Makoto out of this box and away from danger.

Apparently, it was Taiwan that Haia ran off to when she set the whole thing up. Long gone before the whole scenario started, really. They arrested the remaining Matsushina henchmen, at least, but there would still be more fighting to do in three months’ time. Thankfully, higher-ups agreed that they would be more than ready to warn the Taiwanese government in advance of potential attack. That meant that for now, Kyoko had time to rest up and get ready. To some, that would mean her first course of action would be formulating a plan or getting in with some contacts, but for her… It meant spending some time with Makoto.

It had been tough work getting down from that shelving unit with an incapacitated partner, but she managed. With a bit of help, she was able to show her proof of victory and get out of the Matsushina family’s facility, and most importantly, get Makoto to a proper hospital.

And that was how she found herself now, sitting in wait for him to wake up. The hours passed slowly. To the credit of the nurses, they insisted on checking her over as well, so it wasn’t completely boring. But when that was done, it was back to her current state: sitting in Makoto’s hospital room, slouched in one of those uncomfortable chairs, trying to take a nap. Funny how when waiting for a sleeping person to wake, the most interesting thing she can do is try to rest herself. She’s dozed on and off a bit already, and she feels herself getting closer to another bout, when suddenly she hears the sheets on the bed begin to shift. As her eyes snap open, she is met with the sight of a seriously dazed and confused Makoto, who still somehow finds the strength to smile when he locks eyes with her.

“Makoto,” she breathes, springing from her seat as fast as she can to meet him at his bedside, “You’re awake.”

“I’m awake.” He drawls. His eyes are half-lidded and clouded over, and she can only imagine how fuzzy his head must feel on the inside. Nonetheless, he does not appear to be in bad spirits. The way that same, comforted smile seems to persist tells her that much, at least.

“I was so worried for you,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to his forehead ever so softly, like he was a delicate petal that would tear under her touch, “I had no idea what they’d done. Matsushina-san, she could have…”

“What happened with Matsushina-san? Did something go wrong?” His smile does not dissipate as the words leave his mouth, troubling Kyoko. It would be a lot to expect for him to remember everything about the scenario instantly, but to not recall anything at all? That sends a bolt of worry through her chest. She has to try to avoid furrowing her brows.

“Makoto… what do you remember about what happened to you in your day?”

He seems to pause a moment, eyes flitting down to his lap as he mulls the question over. There is not much movement, but she can see the occasional flicker of emotion twist on his face before it is just as quickly replaced by something else. By all means, his day would have been normal up until Haia’s kidnapping attempt, so there should be at least some of it that he is able to recall. Still, after a few minutes of searching his mind, his gaze is devoid of recognition.

“I don’t… remember,” he confesses softly, in a voice that reminds her of a frightened child, “I don’t… Weren’t we supposed to go on a date? I… remember that. And I remember that you asked for a Western-style breakfast this morning, but…”

“Nothing apart form that?”

He frowns. “Not a thing.”

She bites her lip. “I was afraid you might say that. It must have been a strong sedative that they gave you, with a little something else added for good measure.”

Makoto’s frown persists, yet a quirked brow joins it. “They?”

“Matsushina-san and her brutes. I hate to confuse you when you just woke up, but… the reason that you’re here is because of me. Matsushina-san wanted to test me. She thought you would be a good motivator.”

“I thought you caught Matsushina. And I thought he was a man.”

“Haia Matsushina,” she explains, shaking her head. “His daughter. She thought she could avenge her father and his empire of criminality. My success with him made her want to test whether I was a worthy opponent… and in the end, that meant that she tried to press me to play her game by kidnapping you.”

“Oh.”

No other words, just that sound. There’s an expression on his face that she struggles to place, somewhere between the knit brows of troubled and the glazed gaze of still processing. One can only imagine how much it is to take in, but if he’s already asking the questions, she doesn’t feel as if it would be fair to leave him with nothing.

“Did you catch her in the end?”

Kyoko shakes her head. Makoto’s frown deepens. “Not your fault,” she blurts out, knowing that he will try to blame himself, “The police think she was already in Taiwan by the time she started testing me. They caught her brutes, at least.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“What do I have to be disappointed in?”

“Well, that you couldn’t catch her… You can be a bit competitive when it comes to your detective work. You get frustrated when the criminals win a round.”

She chuckles softly. Leave it to Makoto to call her out in the nicest way. He’s right, though. It does irk her when the enemy gets the upperhand for once. But, this time around, she finds that Haia is a problem she is more than happy to procrastinate against. When she looks at the man sitting in the bed, his hair ruffled from sleep, his gaze cloudy but calm, with no pain more than a few bruises dotting his arms and legs… All she can find that she cares about is that he’s there with her and he’s alive. A smile plays at her lips as she shakes her head once more.

“I’m not worried about it right now. All that matters to me right now is that you’re safe.”

A hint of a blush raises in his cheeks at the words, but finally, his face starts to crack into a grin. “Thanks for saving my life… again.”

She leans up and presses another kiss to his forehead. “I save you; you save me. There is nothing I would not do for your sake. I’m sorry that my career put you in danger.”

“No need to apologize,” he assures her, “Although I think we do need to get better security in order. It’s not like we’re exactly anonymous anymore.”

She nods thoughtfully. “True. We can work on that when we get home. For now, I just want to focus on being together.”

“Fair.” He laughs gently. “Do you wanna climb in my bed, so we can really be together?”

“Like you even have to ask,” she replies, making him laugh even more as they shuffle their way into the most comfortable of snuggle positions.

Well, the most comfortable of snuggle positions that one can take in a hospital bed.

Chapter Text

It’s never pleasant to begin your day with a string of swear words.

It’s particularly unpleasant if your name is Makoto Naegi and you are unaccustomed to cursing in any great capacity, because when you are cursing in any great capacity, it usually means one of two things:

1. You have seriously broken or injured some part of your body, and you are probably in somewhat dire need of medical attention.
2. You are running late when you have somewhere very important to be.

This time around, there can be no doubt that the scenario is the latter, and the very important place he’s supposed to be is school. Not just as a student, either, but as a headmaster. It might not have seemed like much to be late to some, but not everybody would understand that the name Hope’s Peak has something in its making. For whatever reason, no matter how Makoto changes the school’s policies, there remains a simple problem: the students are full of potential, yet also full of chaos. Just missing a few hours could mean leaving Byakuya in charge of a large disaster, likely something with a flooded hallway and paper clips, and that just wasn’t fair to his friend. It wasn’t his fault that Makoto has a bad habit of hitting snooze even when he shouldn’t.

Honestly, apart from the whole hitting snooze thing, his wife doesn’t seem to think it’s his fault, either. In fact, she’s quick to blame herself for not realizing what time it became, as if she has not been on maternity leave for the past three months and is not positively exhausted from baby care.

“I’m sorry, Makoto, I should have said something.”

She is talking to him, but her half-lidded eyes are fixed on the baby monitor in her hands. Between the two of them, she is definitely the more paranoid parent – every time she wakes up, she has to pick it up to make sure that Hope is still sleeping safely. With the lives the two of them have lived, he can’t say he blames her. He knows that even if she isn’t locked directly onto him and his problems, she is listening and she genuinely is sorry, which breaks his heart a little. She’s so sweet to want to help him.

“Not your fault.” he mutters as he untangles himself from the sheets. They seem reluctant to release him from their grasp, like a monster swirling its tongue around his leg. “You’re as tired as I am with Hope around. Maybe even more, considering I can’t breastfeed.”

Any other time, she might have chuckled at the comment. Now, however, she is silent.

“If only I had awoken sooner.”

Oh, how he longs to climb over to her side of the bed and squeeze her in a hug and kiss her head. There is no reason for her to blame herself for something that was an accident – an accident on his part alone, no less – but he’s so lacking in time that he can’t even stop to tell her that properly. All he can do is offer some words of comfort as he rifles through his drawers, looking for a clean button-down and tie.

“You were due to get a full three hours of sleep, Kyoko. It was your turn last time, so don’t even worry about it. How were you supposed to know that your husband is a doofus who likes to hit snooze a little too much?”

Though he does not see the change in her face, he can hear the amused exhale through her nose. It’s not enough to fix her guilt, he knows, but the sound is some small solace.

“I should know this because this is not the first time that you’ve done it. Not even close to being the fifth or the eighth time you’ve done it, either.”

He shrugs his shoulders, forcing out a laugh. Even if this situation is leaning towards not being the best, the least he can do is try to comfort Kyoko about it. That’s one thing he will never tire of doing for her. Just giving off an aura of amusement, no matter how sincere, can make a world of difference. That’s something he’s learned with time.

As he yanks out his shirt and tie, he’s quick to wander to the closet next, snatching up the nearest available suit… Only to realize that the nearest available suit is Kyoko’s, and that he’s not prepared to make a fashion statement today. He eagerly puts it back on the rack and keeps sifting with rapid swipes of the fingers, until finally he settles on a navy-blue suit. Good enough, he thinks, even if it is a lot of blue when paired with his robin’s egg tie. It works for now.

“Is there anything I can do to help you get ready, Makoto?” Kyoko asks sweetly, flipping the covers off her body, “Maybe I could make you some breakfast?”

Oh, god no. Kyoko Kirigiri is undoubtedly the love of Makoto’s life, and he would do anything for her, but her cooking tastes is prone to tasting a bit like a mix of a dirt and ashes. She overcooks everything and mixes strange spices, and there has been more than one occasion where the smell alone had been enough to make him pass on it. The offer makes his heart melt, but the idea of her cooking has his mind screaming no thanks.

“I-I’m thinking I’ll skip breakfast, a-actually!” he says as his throws his clothes down on the bed. “If you could check in on Hope while I have a shower, though, t-that would be great!”

Kyoko’s lips press together in annoyance, knowing exactly what he’s trying to avoid, but she is kind enough to keep from saying anything. Instead, she simply nods and leaves him to go about his business… but not without sticking her tongue out at him mockingly first. They are both able to snicker at how much he probably deserves that.

Speaking of what he deserves, Makoto might deserve a world record for the fastest shower ever taken by anyone after today.

Seriously. Apart of him is wondering if he even is clean after how quickly he washed. Does it really matter now? The point is that he got it done. Now he just has to focus on making a lunch, grabbing something quick to fill his stomach on the walk/run over, and maybe calling Byakuya to tell him to just keep holding out until he can get there. Thankfully, he made it easier on himself last night by not having a second helping of dinner. At least he’s left himself some leftovers to pile into a bento box.

Still, guilt swirls within him as he hears Hope fussing in the other room. Sometime during his shower she woke up from her sleep, and ever since had been loudly and angrily demanding something. What that something is, he doesn’t know, but his lateness has forced poor Kyoko to try and figure it out. He feels a bit like a rotten husband, not helping out more. Some men are proud to say they never handle the baby stuff, but not Makoto. If he had it his way, he honestly might stay home with his girls instead. Alas, however, Hope’s Peak needed him, and he isn’t the type of man who is willing to turn his back on his students, either.

“Are you okay in there, Kyoko?” he calls as he shovels omurice into one of the compartments, quickly moving to squirt ketchup in the other so he doesn’t forget. “Do you need me to do anything?”

Hope wails louder, as if to tell her father that she is being horrendously tortured in there. She’s not, and Makoto knows she’s not, but it’s still hard to listen to his baby cry. If anything, she’s probably just hungry and has not appreciated the attempts at cuddles and diaper changes. There are only so many times that they can get her requests right on the first try. As much as he relishes these years where she’s small and cute, he’s sure it will be much easier on him and Kyoko when she is able to use her words to tell them what she wants.

“I’m fine, just worry about yourself,” she shoots back, her typically smooth quivering with frustration as she shuffles around in there to do something he can’t quite make out, “I’m just trying to see if Hope will latch.”

Hm. It’s a bit early for her to be hungry, but he supposes that he shouldn’t question it too much. Though they as parents have a rigid schedule in mind for when they should be feeding her, Hope might think completely differently. Maybe she burned through all of her milk from before already. She is a sponge for information after all, just as all babies are. It is entirely possible that she may have used it as more fuel for growth than they anticipated.

“Good call.” He reaches for another container of leftovers, this time prying open the Tupperware for a go at the vegetables. As headmaster, he has to have vegetables. Healthy lunches are expected to set an example for the students. “Thanks for taking care of her. You’re such a good mom to her.”

Though Hope chooses this moment to squawk, possibly defiantly, he decides to believe that she is actually agreeing with him. She’s just too busy complaining that she’s hungry to notice that her mother is trying to fulfilled her need. If it perturbs Kyoko to be complimented while her child is wriggling and fussing, she does not show it in her reply. Instead, he can hear the amusement in her voice as she replies: “How about you just focus on getting yourself ready for work, instead of going out of your way to be kind?”

Makoto can’t help but laugh as he finishes piling in the vegetables, snapping his box closed. It’s not the most original lunch, but it will satisfy. That’s all he needs it to do, especially with his decision to skip breakfast… he almost feels bad for telling Kyoko that she couldn’t feed him.

“Alright, but I just want to remind you that it’s true,” he snickers, “And I want you to keep that in mind before I go running off to work. I’m really grateful for you!”

“Just get ready, Makoto!” she laughs. There’s no way of telling, but Makoto likes to think that her parents’ ease is what makes Hope finally settle and start to suckle.

Throwing his lunchbox into his bag and sweeping one last pile of paperwork into his briefcase, Makoto finds himself at the door of the house lacing up his dress shoes. With the complaining of their daughter now settled into the occasional happy chirp as she eats, the house feels almost peaceful. If he stops for a moment, he can almost forget that he is running dangerously late for school. Then he sees just a bit too much sun streaming in through the window, and remembers that he has got places to be. With one last tightening of his laces and a slinging of his bag over his shoulder, he calls out to Kyoko:

“Alright, honey, I’m off. Have a good day, I love you!”

“Thank you, I hope you have a good day and good luck! I love you as well!”

Makoto lets out one final sigh as he pries the door open, struck by the sunlight and the warm spring breeze the second it meets his skin. It’s another one of those times where, if the situation permitted, he might have taken the time to enjoy his walk to school. However, it was not, and so he is forced to press forth with as much speed as he can muster. The door is almost fully closed behind him when suddenly, his stomach drops.

How could he manage to forget the most important thing of all?

Forget lateness! There’s no excuse for this!

The door can’t even find the time to click closed before he whips it open again, tossing his briefcase down on the bench in the foyer. Kyoko’s voice rings through the room as he re-enters, but he can’t quite make out what she’s saying. He can only make out her expression, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a straight line, as he speed-walks towards her.

“Forgot to kiss you good-bye,” he explains, leaning down to offer him her lips.

Kyoko can do little else but laugh at him and accept. The kiss is soft and warm, but quick, and Makoto has to fight to avoid going back for more. Timing-wise, he probably shouldn’t, but if he had the time, he absolutely would.

“Kiss your daughter before you go, too,” Kyoko reminds him as he pulls back, and smiles as she notices that he is already dipping his head down again to plant one on the babe’s fuzzy little head.

“Of course. Both my girls need to know how much I love them.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “We do, believe me. We do.”

Chapter Text

A wound gapes in Naegi Makoto’s side as he is carried across the battlefield.

Anger and anguish sear into Empress Kirigiri Kyoko’s heart. 

She could kill Enoshima for this. Order her samurai forward and have that wretched woman’s head cleaved clean from her shoulders. Hell, she would do it herself if her advisors could contain their fits. She wants to kill Enoshima for this. She wants to kill her for the invasion of her lands, for the massacre of her people, and for the kind-hearted man she has nearly sentenced to death. 

Two years ago, she would never have anticipated that this would happen. Kizakura Koichi had assured her that female empresses, although rare, always had well-supported rules. 

“A woman symbolizes order, and perfection,” he had said in a tone so confident she couldn’t help but believe him, “You cannot be everything your people will need all at once, but they will respect you. Rest assured, your highness, people from all over will come to see you as the jewel you are.” 

How could he have known? How could he have known that someone like Enoshima Junko would come along, hungry for the very thing she is said to oppose? He swore to protect her from the moment her father fell to that witch, and now… and now she has nearly lost another person she loves because of her. Death is too good for her. 

Kyoko does her best to apply pressure to his wound as she rides, her horse carrying her as fast as it can manage. The wind rushes past them, blowing her hair in wild directions, but she finds that she cannot care so long as she can still see what is happening to this man she has come to care for. His chest plate has been pried from his body by Hagakure Yasuhiro, leaving his clothing exposed and the inky carmine colour of his blood to soak into the fabric. If it were not so unbecoming of an empress, she might have cursed. How could she allow this to happen? She should have been at his side. 

As her eyes flutter shut, whispering a silent prayer, she wills herself to believe that he will survive. Hope is the one thing they have in this war, and it is the one thing he has taught her to hold dear.

The day they met, the empress almost thought nothing of him. 

Kizakura Koichi was the one who brought him in. The rest of the court had raised their brows and shook their heads almost the moment they saw him. To take a vow as a samurai was to take a vow of honour, strength, and protection, but the man – no, the boy – they saw before them did not appear as if he were prepared to do any sort of protecting and fighting. Small and scrawny in appearance and seemingly slight in personality, he would have no place on the battlefield. One of Junko’s soldiers could take a sword to his side and that would be it for him. His blood would be on their hands, staining their soil, and they would have to live knowing that he was not ready when they tried to send him out to war. 

The only problem with that was that he did not share their opinion on his stature nor his demeanour, and was insistent on lending himself to the cause. 

“Both my mother and father were slain by Enoshima’s soldiers,” he explained with a voice that could not dare waver, though they all could hear it wanting to, “It is only my sister and I now. I cannot leave her defenceless and prepared to die. I cannot allow more lives to be taken in the name of conquest without doing something.”

A noble man, Kyoko thought, fingers drumming on the armrest of her throne, her long nails making tink tink tink sounds as they made contact with the gold. But such nobility can be attributed to stupidity as well. Don’t go throwing your life away for an honour you cannot hope to achieve, Naegi Makoto. 

These thoughts have been woven into her from the moment she was born, but at times she found herself wondering if they were ever truly hers. As empress, she had been elevated above all others. Though it was always hard to be taken seriously as a woman, there was a certain amount of status she was awarded — a superiority in more than one sense of the word. Seeing a common man, someone as painfully usual as Naegi Makoto, it did not stir great emotion in her – at least, not when it come to the subject of her battles ahead and her own protection. Truth be told, she found herself wanting to protect him more. That was her duty as empress, after all. To protect and consider the needs of her people. Did this man truly need to be sent off to war, or could they avoid sacrificing his and his sister’s safety some other way? Her fingers continued to drum on the armrest, and she pursed her lips. 

“And what do you propose that you will bring forth to the imperial army, Naegi-san?”

Most of the courtiers were used to her unwavering voice and powerful gaze, but Makoto seemed to shrink under it a little. If he could not survive under this scrutiny, how could he hope to survive in the war? Her body craved a sigh, but she did not want to dismiss this young man so rudely just yet. He was offering to put his life on the line for her, after all. Even if he seemed unlikely, there had been other bright heroes with equally humble origins. Perhaps there could be a place for him yet, if he could learn to stand on his own two feet. It probably wasn’t easy, being under the inspection of the most powerful woman in the country. 

“Anything that I can, your Imperial Majesty,” he said carefully, his olive-green eyes locked on her face. It was difficult to notice before, but in a way, Naegi Makoto was… handsome. Not unbearably so, but he was at least a little attractive. Smooth, lightly tanned skin, messy brown hair that stuck up in all sorts of places, a pair of lips that looked like they were always prepared to smile, a button nose that added to the softness of his face, and those eyes… They were so full of fire, so full of life, that Kyoko could not help want to look into them. She’d never seen such intense eyes in her life, and legend had it that her family had had people shrinking under their violet stare for generations. But to see someone like him, so meek-looking but with such fire… It awoke something in her. Whether it was something like love or a drive to live, she did not know, but she liked it nonetheless. 

“Anything?” 

He nodded. “Anything.” 

She flittered her gaze away, hoping to maintain her image of aloofness. “Anything is good, but only theoretically. If you would truly give me anything that you can, Naegi-san, what would you say are your special talents? Things from you that are assured to enhance our army?” 

The question appeared to stump him at first, a crease digging into his brow. His teeth bore down on his lip. The rest of the courtiers began to mutter around her, all too ready to voice their disapproval. The army needed warriors of strength, people who actually understood that there was more to the job than wandering into the palace and requesting an audience with the empress. Military histories, special skills, profound character – these were the things that were valued. If Makoto could not provide any of these things, what business did he have there? Why was the Empress even bothering to consider him? Kyoko waved off their words, and waited for Makoto’s answer. 

“My optimism,” he answered, expression tentative, wondering if that could possibly suffice, “I have been told that I am… more hopeful than most people, even in times of hardship. That can be powerful in a war. I-Improving morale is important.” 

A hint of smile played at Kyoko’s lips, though she could not recall when that sneaky little grin managed to slip past her. “I’ll give you that, I suppose. And what of your military skills? Have you any background?” 

“A bit of combat training from my father,” he confessed, “Nothing special, but I… I don’t think I will have much trouble learning. I could learn quickly.”

The last two phrases sounded so quickly tacked on that the courtiers started to rumble with conversation again. This time, she shot them a look. No twisting of her face into a sneer of warning, just a cold, hard stare of expectation, like the one her tutors used to give when she would goof off during her lessons. It silenced them immediately. 

“And what of your mind? Have you any education?” She asked, turning her head back to look at Makoto. 

“A little. I’m a good puzzle solver.”

She does not have the energy to look back to see the faces of the courtiers again. She cannot value their judgement right now, not when she knows that they are not seeing what she sees. They cannot see that fire in his eyes, and the potential that is dancing beneath the surface. Is it really there? Are they trying to save her from this whole debacle? 

It mattered not. 

Once he shared the flame of his hope, it would not leave her.

They met a few more times between then and now. Mostly during check-ins on the military, collecting reports. He always made a point of saying hello and striking up a conversation, even in spite of how it seemed to rub the other recruits the wrong way. They thought he acted too chummy with her. She could not have cared less. It was nice to have someone be so friendly, and it was not as if it was anything too personal. 

It was not until a few months in, on a late night in the palace gardens, that the two of them would come to encounter each other with real vulnerability for the first time. 

It was a rare occurrence for her to be alone anywhere. Even in times of peace, it was difficult to be anywhere without guards. In times of war, this was even worse, but with the sheer amount of bloodshed, that position just became much less important if she was not escorted outside of the palace. She could certainly handle her own if it was just her in her own home. She had been out in actual battles, though it drove the court insane. With that being the case, however, they could not deny her a little agency in being by herself every once in a while. That was how her trips to the gardens came to be, and how her next encounter with Naegi Makoto would begin. 

She had been stressed about something. What it was, she could no longer recall, but its ties to the war were certain. Wherever she turned, an object of stress was sure to follow. Blood seemed to seep into every aspect of her life these days, and no matter how hard she tried, it only continued to stain her hands. The walks in the gardens were small respite, but they were something, and she knew better than to underestimate the power of that. Having time to hear herself think was pleasant, and she truly did enjoy wandering around in the moonlight. The garden just looked different in the wee hours of the night, as the moon and stars drifted towards their place in the sky. She swore the light from them sometimes made the flowers glow. 

Seeing Makoto there was unusual, though. The samurai were welcome in certain areas of the palace, but Makoto had never been one to dawdle. Apart from his hellos at the troop inspections, he tended to maintain an even stronger sense of decorum than most. He knew very well that he was a lower man, looking up at a radiant being far beyond his station. Togami Byakuya, one of his fellow soldiers, had to repeatedly remind him that he did not have to bend a knee every time he saw her. Though it stung a bit to think that she was so above others that the common man could not even greet her properly, Makoto’s clumsy insistence on formality was… kind of cute, in its own way. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. 

“Naegi Makoto.” 

Merely hearing his name made him jump. Were his superior around, she is certain that he would have been thoroughly scolded. Whether it would be for acting cowardly in front of the empress or not being aware of his surroundings… well, that was anyone’s guess. All she knew was that there would probably be something. Not that that should really be a surprise to anyone. He took it in stride, but his humbler origins paired with his gentle demeanour usually meant that the higher-ups were harder on him than they were on some of the other recruits.

“Oh, your Imperial Majesty, you scared me,” he said, scratching at his cheek, “I didn’t expect to see you in the palace gardens at this hour.” 

Kind as it was, she found herself too exhausted to share his amusement. She rubbed at her temples. “Well, it is my palace. I am prone to moving about it as I please.”

Ouch. Sharp. Too sharp. The royals have always had a reputation of being a cold, calculating people, but she’d tried to train herself to be better at interactions. The venture would help with future diplomacy, and stop the claims of Junko’s allies, who insisted that her comportment had something to do with thinking herself as entirely superior to others. Even now, it would probably smooth over her relationship with the servants and courtiers. It would be a lie to say that she had been in perfect humour right then, and she knew her prickliness made them talk about her behind her back. It’s typical for royalty to become gossip, but she hated it. She hated that everyone could spend the time making her out to be such a frigid, uptight witch when she was killing herself to keep them all safe. She knew it to be unfair for her to act in such a way, and she tried not to, but so early in her reign, this behaviour would be bound to colour people’s opinion of her. If she acted like this with Makoto as well, who knew what he would think?

No, she shouldn’t worry about that. He may not have known her well, but he knew enough to understand that she was never intentionally going to be unkind. It was all just stress, building up inside like a fungus that threatened to ail her. She was sure that someone like him is able to see that. She cannot be the composed Empress forever, especially not when trouble has come so early in her reign.

As if to compliment her for her perceptiveness, Makoto’s brows furrowed, and he stepped forward to get a better look at her. The corners of his mouth begin to tug into a frown as the moonlight gave him a clearer picture of her face, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. 

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked quietly, tilting his head to the side as if to drink in all of her features. For a minute it seemed almost as if he was going to reach a hand up to brush her cheek, but he stopped himself quickly. They did not have anywhere near close enough of a relationship for him to do something like that, but the fact that the instinct arose in him at all puzzled her. It seemed to puzzle him, too. 

He doesn’t mean anything malicious by it , she assured herself. He’s not that kind of person.

Still, she averted her gaze from his. Suddenly it felt like too much trouble. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat and grey as the stones that paved the garden paths, “I simply have had a lot to contend with as of late.”

He nodded thoughtfully. However, the concern etched into his expression did not quite disappear. It was only slightly tempered. “Ah. So you were taking a break in the gardens, then?” 

She let out a long sigh, trying to focus on the appearance of the flowers. Most of them had closed up their blossoms for the day, processing all of their food from the sunlight hours, but their beauty endured. It was much easier to focus on than the man before her, whom she found she both did and did not want to know at the same time. He was confusing. 

Like me but don’t like me. Like me but don’t like me too much.

Yes, that’s more like it. As her subject, it was important that he liked her. As one of her samurai, however, it was important that a certain distance be kept. If something were to happen to him out on the battlefield, she could not afford to suffer for that. She could not live with his death on her conscience, another pint of blood splattered on her earth. That fire in his eyes… she could not stand thinking that she would be the one to extinguish it. That is why she had to pull away from his attempts to share the flame… even if a small part of her wanted to take pleasure in his warmth.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Is there anything that I can help you with, milady?”

Kyoko’s gaze darted back to him involuntarily. “What?” 

“I-I mean, is there something I can do to help you with your heavy workload? I know a lot of it is probably related to the court, but… is there anything I could do to help for the war effort, maybe? Or something I could do to help ease your mind?” 

“Ease my mind?” 

Makoto’s face reddened slightly. “S-Sorry, your Imperial Majesty, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, it’s just… I wondered if you might need some personal support. You seem very tired, and I heard that the courtiers h-have been hard on you lately, so I just wanted to ask and see if maybe you needed a confidante.” 

And you would suggest yourself? 

Her heart skipped a beat – something she internally scolded it for. She would not let herself get attached to this man. She barely even knew him. He barely even knew her. That’s the way things had to be. Her position demanded it. 

Yet she couldn’t help but feel herself melting as she looks at him, his olive-green eyes tinged with sincerity. Was he genuinely worried for her health? It had to be the first time in a few days that someone has actually noticed her composure slipping. Even the kindest among her people had become so preoccupied with their own plights that they hadn’t noticed her struggle. That tended to be the price you paid for being the one on top. 

“I… suppose I might.”

Idiot!

“Would you allow me to be that person then, milady? A-Assuming I’m not overstepping, of course.”

A long pause hung between them for a moment before she released yet another a sigh and shook her head, knowing in her heart that she was too tired to try and beat this. “I would.”

A smile snuck across his face, his eyes twinkling with delight. He had a nice smile. Had she ever really seen him smile before now? Maybe during their swift hellos. This one seems different. It sent a warmth spreading through her chest, and strangely through her cheeks. Quietly, she prayed that it did not mean anything. 

“Might we walk through the gardens and talk, then?”

“That… sounds reasonable.” She paused for a moment, letting the personal implications of her acceptance sink into her own mind. “Follow me. I’ll show you the garden’s best.”

With a cheerful nod, Makoto followed eagerly, seemingly quite happy to get to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with his leader. It is not so often that someone of his standing is given such an invitation. In fact, it is not often that someone is given that invitation at all. He clearly understood that this was, in some way, an honour she was granting him… although she cannot say that she saw it that way. 

Their walk was silent at first, only taking in their footsteps on the stone pathways and the crickets singing in the dead of night. Contrary to what she expected, the silence did not feel all that uncomfortable – and it had little to do with forgetting that Makoto is there. In fact, she found that she could barely get away from his eyes. In no way was he being invasive, but she could not help but feel as if he was always watching her, almost with a sense of admiration. 

“I don’t mean to question your decisions, milady, but what made you decide to come to the gardens at this hour? With everything going on, I’m sure that you’re exhausted from the day’s events. Why put yourself through a little extra?” He asked, openly, almost as if they were dear friends. It was strange, but she did not dislike it.

“I use my time in the gardens to decompress. I would scarcely be able to sleep if I went directly to bed after my councils for the day.” 

Makoto’s eyes widened a little, and she could see him bearing down on his lip out of the corner of her eye. “When do your meetings tend to end for the day?” 

“Typically after supper, to allow me time to focus on answering important letters and filling out paperwork. However, given that Enoshima Junko has brought war, the answer is something closer to two hours past nightfall.”

“That long?! I heard that you would do anything for us, but somehow, I underestimated your dedication. Do you still carry on doing your paperwork after that?”

“But of course. I try to leave at least an hour or two for it, and then I take my stroll through the gardens, as I am doing this evening.” 

Makoto’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure that that is a wise decision?”

From what she heard, Makoto was the bashful type, so she wondered where he got the courage to outright question his empress right to her face. Somewhere beneath the surface, however, a hint of a smirk threatened to play at Kyoko’s lips. He could be fun to tease with this. 

“Are you questioning your Empress?” She said, voice as flat and monotone as she could make it. The words were barely out of her mouth for ten seconds when Makoto started sputtering, bowing in apology – and then nearly tripping over his feet because he tried to bow while walking. She could do little else other than snicker softly and shake her head. “It was only a jest, Naegi-kun. You invited me to speak my thoughts freely, and so, you may also speak yours.” 

A sigh of relief shot out of him, and a hand came to rest over his heart. “You frightened me!” he laughed. “Nobody told me you were so teasing!” 

She winked, but does not smile. It would be improper to give him the wrong idea… whatever that idea would be. “I’m full of surprises. That is how I intend on winning the war.”

He only half-smiled at that comment. She cannot say that she blamed him for that being his response. Wars will inevitably weigh on the rulers who engage in them, but it is the people who will suffer most in the turmoil. Makoto had already lost his parents to the ravaging of their kingdom, so she can imagine that the war is a sore subject for him. It’s something they have in common; she supposed. It might just be her exhaustion that made her insensitive to this.

“Jokes aside, your Imperial Majesty, I really do worry that your diligence may be putting you in a bad position. Are your advisors not worried for your health?” 

Kyoko could only shrug. “They don’t seem to be,” she paused for a moment, “Are you?” 

Makoto’s mouth opened for a moment, then quickly closed again, trying to avert his eyes. “I… I know it is not my place, but…” 

“But what?” 

“You look absolutely exhausted , milady.”

“Do I?” 

He nodded. “Even in the moonlight I can see the dark circles under your eyes. The other day when you were inspecting the troops, you mixed up two of your top commanders.” 

“So?”

“Your commanders are two different sexes.”

Kyoko’s lips pressed into a flat line. She did not mean to be curt, but it was very unlike anyone who was not a servant to worry about her health. Only those closest to her tended to do that, so the presence of Makoto, a regular soldier, trying to do such a thing was… confusing. Uncomfortable, maybe? No, perhaps that would be going too far…

“What is your point here, Naegi-kun?”

“That you’re greatly important to your people, and as much as we appreciate all that you are trying to do in helping us win this war, we don’t want your care for us to be the reason you fall into harm’s way.” 

“I’m not in any danger at the present moment.”

“But you could be! Enoshima draws closer and closer every day. Weren’t you saying just the other day that she took over two cities and a town?” 

She swallowed thickly. Much as she would like to deny it, Makoto did have a point. That villainess had been steamrolling the country with remarkable speed; she could be there before a woman of six months’ pregnancy gave birth. She just did not want to consider how easily she could crumble under her enemy, with no one to succeed her in the throne. If she were to die, then the kingdom would be Junko’s for the taking, and that is a larger threat than anyone is prepared to deal with. Letting her people throw away their lives for her would destroy her, but dying there and now would destroy them. 

“Yes, I was… but it is a complex situation. The way I see it, it is either you or I, and I have never been the kind of woman who would want to throw away the common man just to save my own skin. One of us will have to admit to some weakness, will have to fall in some capacity, and I cannot trust that it will be easier to do that to others like yourself. Blood of the royal lineage or not, a kingdom is nothing without its people.” 

He fell silent for a moment. Something about his attitude told her that this was not the answer he expected. He seemed to shift his positioning ever so slightly and bite at his lip, as if he was reflecting in depth on what she said. 

“But a great leader can inspire the kingdom to move forward,” he said finally. “Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. To judge one person’s life as more important than another’s does not make sense. We need to look at everyone’s contributions as something with value.” 

Kyoko hummed in acknowledgement. He had a point there. No good would come from dismissing one as more or less important than the other, but still… she knew it would circle back around into his concern for her, and she was still rather unsure of how to feel about that. 

“If that’s the way we choose to look at things, then we can consider both that the people are in need, and that you need your rest.” 

She sighed and shook her head once more. What had this man so determined to fuss over her? Was there some kind of bug he’d been bitten by that she just didn’t know about?

The love bug, perhaps, she heard Koichi’s teasing voice in the back of her mind. That comment was one she quickly pushed away. At most, Makoto could admire her. It cannot be said in any capacity that he should love her. The two did not know each other well enough for that to be within the realm of possibility, at least as far as she was concerned. 

A wisp of a smile found its way to her face nonetheless. 

“Do you think me so frail?” She asked, sure to keep her tone openly teasing this time, lest he misunderstand her intentions. 

“I think you are so kind,” he said without missing a beat. “Anyone with half a mind can tell that despite your-”

Foot in your mouth, she almost laughed, noticing his hesitation to speak the words. She would be willing to bet several thousand yen that he was about to use words such as “cold” and “calculating” to describe her. 

“- ahem, intimidating exterior…”

Ooh, saved face. 

“… You truly care about the people you are leading. I mean, you had no reason to take me on other than the goodness of your own heart and your willingness to respect my wishes. I know when I came here, I was far from the ideal soldier, but you allowed me to be apart of your cause anyway.”

“I liked your fire,” she blurted out, not even thinking before the words left her lips, “I could tell you were passionate about what you were setting out to do. You cared about what would happen next.” 

Makoto smiled at this comment, taking a moment to scratch at his cheek awkwardly. She had come to know of this as a nervous tick of his based off of their other, smaller interactions. Whenever he felt strange or bashful, he fell into the habit. It was oddly charming. 

“That’s what I mean, milady. Most people don’t look at someone like me and see anything worthwhile, but you actually looked at me. You thought of what I meant as a person, of what I wanted. I was human to you before you even got to know me.” 

I could say the same about you, she thought. The passing idea spread another pump of warmth throughout her chest, although she cannot say she understood why. Best not to consider it now, she decided. 

“And I’m not the only person you granted this to. I know Togami-sama rather regularly disagrees with your policies and stirs trouble in your court, but you never give up on him. You treat him with the same dignity and respect as you do any other person.”

Well… mostly. The two of them are prone to little verbal spars, but he was not wrong – at the end of the day, there are plenty of things about Togami Byakuya that she respects... Even if he did behave as if he was the gods’ gift to the earth.

“And what about when there was that scandal with Oogami-sama and her family? How she was manipulated and tortured into giving over information, and the rest of the court wanted you to dismiss her for being a traitor to the crown, but you wouldn’t allow it? You gave her a chance to redeem herself and her family, and allowed her to stand by Asahina-san as well, who helped her heal.”

That had been a tense time. She had not thought of much during it other than protecting her people. As far as Junko was concerned, she was hoping that Kyoko would make an example out of people like Oogami Sakura, to show off her cruelty and vouch for herself as the superior leader. Propaganda, she supposed. But Kyoko could not bring herself to hurt Sakura when she had done nothing within free will. Torture was the tool of cowards – people will say anything to stop such severe pain. She could not blame Sakura for her actions, and she would not allow the others to as well. She hadn’t had to think much about it. It was just what made the most sense to do, yet Makoto thinks of it when he wants to give examples of how she is kind. 

“Or what about all of the money that you have sent in the direction of that orphanage that was decimated by Enoshima? How they were able to rebuild within a matter of a few weeks, and how the children were hopeful and well-fed all that time? You could have left the community to handle it, but you chose not to.” 

“I’m just being a good empress.” 

“You are choosing to be a good empress. People like Enoshima are not.”

Kyoko frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your point, Naegi-kun.”

“My point is that your kindness is something everyone in Japan admires about you. We love that you are so willing to take care of us, and to ensure that we have a future beyond what is happening now. It is what inspires us to never bend to the wills of people like Enoshima. You may not see your life as inherently more valuable than ours, milady, but you are the symbol of the future we are striving towards. We want to take care of that future, just as much as that future takes care of us.” 

“So what you’re saying is-”

“Please, go to sleep at a reasonable hour and eat three meals a day!”

Both of them erupted into laughter so naturally that Kyoko’s heart skipped a beat. 

A woman like Maizono Sayaka was doomed from the beginning, and Makoto seemed to be the only major actor in the army that did not know it. 

A songstress turned warrior was a trophy target for Enoshima Junko. To slay not just a commander, but a singer of the empress’s court, would bring her a satisfaction that they could barely begin to understand. As blood leaked on the woman’s white underclothes, the same shade of pure white that she had worn during her songs before the war, Makoto hung his head over her and wept. Try as she might, Kyoko could not find the right words to console him. After all, judging by the gaping wound in her belly, her death had been anything but quick. She and several others had learned the hard way that five minutes was the shortest amount of time it took a person to bleed to death. 

“This is all my fault,” Makoto whimpered, brushing aside the inky blue bangs that are still matted to Sayaka’s forehead, “If I had just stayed… when you asked me to change positions…”

She was your commander, Kyoko longed to say. You were meant to follow her orders. 

Instead, she chose to hold her tongue. Logic would not comfort Makoto now. Not when considering the loss of his friend, nor when considering that he had now also lost a piece of home… The friendship between Makoto and Sayaka had bloomed because they grew up in the same town, and had some of the same education… Dare she say it, Makoto may have once held a bit of affection for the girl. Now that she was gone, her spirit being guided to peaceful rest, Kyoko could not blame him for his grief and confusion. Had she any love in her heart for someone like that, she felt certain that she would have been the same. Even just seeing it in him hurt… but she knew that there was only so much she could do about it. 

“Naegi-kun. Can I speak with you for a moment?”

He looked up from Sayaka’s body for a moment, staring expectantly. When he realized that she wanted to take him aside, his gaze flicked back to Sayaka’s lifeless body, and his lower lip trembled. Then, he turned back to her and nodded again. 

“It’s about Maizono-san, is it not?” 

She blinked. “I’m surprised you figured it out.”

Quietly, he pulled himself up from the ground and follows his empress, the rest of the recruits lingering on them until finally they were face to face in the castle’s hall.

“I have… heard some reports from Kuwata-kun, who was with her, when she was… when it happened…” 

The words were surprisingly difficult to get out. Her tongue felt like cotton as she tried to speak, each word coming out oh-so-carefully, like she was piecing together some kind of puzzle. It is probably for the best that this was the case – her coldness has not lent itself well to comforting others in the past. In fact, it is often what has deterred her from being able to do it effectively. 

“And… Maizono-san, in her last moments… as she lay dying, she was thinking of you… and praying that you were safe…” 

Makoto said nothing, nor did his eyes. All she could see on his face was that he is hanging onto her every word. 

“Kuwata-kun said that she thought herself coward. She actively sent you to a worse position because she could… she struggled to…” 

The empress felt the urge to hang her head like a scolded child. There is no use in trying to act like Sayaka died without cowardice or pain, but that still does not mean that her comforting should destroy the relationship the two of them had. Kyoko would rather face the truth than be consoled with a lie, and she could only hope that Makoto was the same. 

“She was unsure of her positioning when my tactician brought it up with her. Her hesitation attracted failure.”

Makoto blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

Kyoko drew in a long, deep breath, then released it. “Because… you are the kind of warrior who can overcome this. Because you can move past death of your allies – Maizono-san and Kuwata-kun – and keep moving forward. Without someone like you, the others will never be able to break free of a desperate situation. You may think yourself an ordinary soldier, Naegi-kun, but the others look to you.”

“Move past their deaths?” He parroted, colour draining from his face. “That’s… I could never do that.”

For a moment, she considered opening her mouth, but thought better of it. It was hard to tell at first, but there was most certainly something brewing under the surface… a kind of storm. If she had to guess, it was that fire of his that bubbled up – she just hoped that it was not one that would invoke its ire upon her. 

“I’m going to carry them with me for the rest of my life. How could I possibly “move past” something like that? Maizono-san… Kuwata-kun… I will carry them with me forever,” his voice spiked suddenly, his shouting surprising even him, “I will carry them with me wherever I go!”

As his voice rang out, so too did the weight of his words. Kyoko found herself stunned to silence, unsure of what to say. She had never been good at comforting people, but she thought maybe what she could say would help… yet Makoto seemed to be making a choice she would never have anticipated. Perhaps it really was his passion after all. 

“So instead of forgetting them… you are choosing the more difficult path.”

She paused, drinking in the information, as a small, hopefully comforting smile graced her. 

“Well, I have high expectations for you… By the way, I wanted to ask…”

“Hm?”

“… How did you know I wanted to talk to you about Maizono-san?”

“Oh, well… I’m psychic.”

Kyoko jolted back, an action that embarrassed her immediately, although she tried not to show it. “Huh?!”

“Just a jest, milady,” he almost laughed, giving her a particularly weak smile in return, “I have good intuition.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that our conversation from before went right over your head.”

Makoto would never have been so smug as to say those words, yet somehow it was as if she could feel them emanating from him. He was barely even approved by the guards to be invited to visit her when she is in such a state, but he still had the audacity to have this air of rightness about him… Alright, perhaps she was exaggerating. Really, he wasn’t doing much of anything that could cause her shame, other than sitting nearby, helping to prepare a meal for her that one of the servants left. It was not Makoto’s job to care for her, yet his diligence upon arrival made it seem like this was his job all along. She wondered if he felt guilty for not having more of an influence on her, or not being there at the right time. She hoped not. It was not his fault that she barely slept and then thought she could handle battle. 

“I appreciate you coming to see me, Naegi-kun.” She murmured quietly, unaccustomed to speaking after a few days of healing. “Although I am sorry that it means you have to look after me…”

Makoto shook his head thoughtfully, carefully breaking up seaweed with his fingers to sprinkle atop a bowl of steaming jasmine rice. “No need for apologies, milady. I’m happy to look after you.” 

Kyoko hummed. “Even after I neglected to take your advice?”

His eyes flicked up from the seaweed for a moment, and it almost looked like he was going to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and just looked down again. Was he mad at her? Being concerned with that at all felt strange, but she supposed she could understand it if he was. He made it clear in their earlier conversation that he was counting on her just as much as she was counting on him. 

“I’d heard you were headstrong.” She could have burst out laughing at how casually Makoto said it. No others spoke to her like that, and though she could take it as an insult, the honesty was refreshing. “I anticipated it might happen.” 

“You did, did you?” 

He nodded. “My sister can be like that as well. More than once I’ve had to drag her out of a problem because she got in too deep,” a slight chuckle tinged his speech, “She has a bit of a weird sense of pride sometimes.”

Kyoko softened at the mention of the girl. Though they had had a little bit of time to get to know each other since that one conversation, she still only heard bits and pieces about her. Talking about his home life before the war still seemed to pain Makoto, so she had made a point of avoiding the topic when they did speak. Honestly, she might have heard more about Sayaka than she did his sister, even after the latter passed.

“How is your sister?” 

He smiled gently, although she noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s in good health… and worried about me, as any sister would be. She asks about how things are here, what the people are like, what you are like…”

She quirked a brow. “And what did you tell her about me?” 

“That you are much kinder than the rumours about you say. And that the rumours about your beauty are true – she asked about those.”

Somehow, she was disappointed that Makoto himself didn’t take the initiative to tell tales of her allure. “Well, that’s kind of you.”

He shrugged. “Just answering her questions…” His smile faded. “Although I fear I may have answered too many. She’s been asking about joining the army as of late.”

“I could see about taking her on.”

“Komaru is not built for war.” Makoto cut her off the moment she finished, still seemingly unfazed by interrupting his superior – what confidence he has built! He had certainly changed a bit, from the man who used to be excessively respectful before that night in the gardens. Honestly, she appreciated his candor. “She is far too innocent. When all of this started, she could do nothing but cry, and now she wants to join the army? It makes no sense.”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, surprising Makoto into looking up at her. Their gazes linked together, and it was the first time that she realized just how rich of a colour his eyes were. Before it was the fire that attracted her, but now… the harmony in the sea of green was just as appealing. “I will not pretend to know a great deal about your sister, but there was a time where most thought this impossible for you, and you are here now. Surely that must mean something?” 

His brows knitted together as she spoke, at first grateful for the words, but then seeming to evaluate them much more carefully. “I understand your thoughts, your Imperial Majesty, but I… I just don’t think I could fathom seeing her hurt. No one wants to see their family in harm’s way.” 

“I understand. I don’t have a sibling of my own, but my father did come before me… I know what it’s like to watch someone you love charge headlong into battle, unsure if they will make it to the end.” 

The crease between Makoto’s brows could only deepen at the words, but his eyes softened in comprehension. 

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to upset you.”

She raised a hand, putting on a somewhat easy smile in hopes of making him more comfortable. Unlike him, talking about her family did not offend her. She often had much less to say than someone like him would anyway. “No need to apologize. It was I who asked about your sister, and I am merely continuing the conversation. Besides… it feels like ages ago that my father walked the earth alongside us.”

“Do you miss him?” Makoto blurted out, only to look as if he wanted to kick himself for asking. Considering everything he had done and said so far, it was almost painfully ironic. If it weren’t for their current subject matter, Kyoko could have laughed.

“Sometimes.” She paused. “We weren’t particularly close. His work always brought him away from me. For a long time I resented him for it, but now, actually being here myself… I suppose I can sympathize with what he was doing. It may not have been what I needed, but perhaps it was all he could provide. The way he saw things, I think… it was him and I against the world.”

Makoto nodded, appearing uncertain of what he should say. That was alright with her. It was just nice to have someone listen.

“I’m sure he’d be very proud, if he could see how you’re doing. I know I am.” 

The comment caught Kyoko off-guard, and she had to fight not to start blushing. “T-Thank you,” she muttered, praying he didn’t notice her embarrassment – how did he always manage to put her in such a state? “What about you?” 

He blinked, surprised that she would have anything more to ask about him at all. Did people not ask about him and his life, she wondered? It would certainly be unusual to not do so. “What about me?”

“If the memory is not painful for you, I long to ask… what was your family like?”

He smiled softly, sadly. The look on his face told her immediately that he was thinking of his parents. She almost wanted to tell him to stop and not answer, just so he wouldn’t have to relive that pain, but when he began to speak, it appeared as if this might have been something good for him. Maybe he did need to speak about them more than he had been doing. 

“They were… nice. Typical, really. Working class, perhaps more on the frugal side. My father had some military experience and education, which is where I got my skills from, but it was never really enough to stay comfortably afloat. He worked two jobs, and even then, my mother had to take up spinning silk to make sure ends met. They were hard workers, and kind people. There wasn’t a person alive they weren’t willing to help, even when it was hard for us, and they loved Komaru and myself with everything they had. I never doubted that they cared about us, not for a moment.”

His eyes sparkled as he talked about his family.

“And Komaru?”

“Komaru is like any other little sister – a tad mischievous, but cheerful and a pleasure to spend time with. She’s still young, so she relies upon me a great deal, often crying and getting scared by the dark clouds that surround us… but there’s bravery there, too. She rises to challenges set in front of her, regardless of whether she thinks she can. She cares so much about the people around her, and overall, I think she just makes my world a brighter place.”

Kyoko smiled. “They sound lovely. I’m sure you miss them a great deal.”

“I do…” He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. His eyes lingered down at the table for a moment, as if they were searching for something, some hint of his family, but they eventually found their way back to her. “Maybe, when all of this is over, I can bring you to meet Komaru. I’m sure she would be honoured to have an audience with the Empress.”

“I would like that. However, if it’s not too much to ask…”

“Yes?” 

Somehow, that stubborn blush rose in her cheeks. Oh, how she wished she could kick it away. How did he always manage to do this to her? 

“Would you please tell me more? I know so little of your life, Naegi-kun, and if it’s alright with you… I would love to know more.” 

“O-Oh! Of course, milady. I-If you don’t mind, I would actually like to hear more about your upbringing as well.” 

She smiled. “Sounds like we have an agreement, then.”

The hours that followed seemed like mere minutes as the two spoke, starting with the basics only to later delve into the intimate details of their lives, their hopes and fears, their dreams and wants… Dare she say it, it is entirely possible that nobody else had known Kyoko as much as Makoto did within those hours. For the first time in ages, she felt as if she may have truly connected to someone, someone who saw her for who she was – not just as an Empress, but a person. Talking with him was as easy and as natural as falling asleep. Did it feel the same for him too, she wondered? Perhaps not, given that he had no high station of his own to deal with, but she liked to think that she was a comfort to him. Away from his family and all he had ever known; she was sure he was lonely. If she could provide him even a little bit of support, that was all she wanted. After all, he always made her feel so safe.

Oh, god. She was in this far deeper than she had ever planned to be.

Kirigiri Kyoko’s heart is in her throat as she passes Naegi Makoto off to Kimura Seiko, the latest in their line of healing experts. She is more of an expert in medicines than she is in saving lives, but she is all that they have access to right now, and Kyoko would rather die than not take a chance on her. When she took him on, she promised herself that no matter what happened, she would do all that she could to keep that light from going out. She fully intends to keep that promise.

Her delivery of Makoto safely to Seiko denotes that she should likely return to the battlefield. Yet for the first time in a long time, her knees shake at the prospect. With or without Makoto at her side, she would always have her confidence and her courage, but with his fate hanging in the balance… Well, it’s as if she can barely focus. Ever since she plucked him off the ground and threw him atop her horse, tearing her clothes to try and stop his bleeding wound, unease has pricked her heart. Not knowing whether he will live or die made her ache with a kind of longing she has never felt before, and though she knows that she should be more concerned with the soldiers who are defending her with their lives… Can she really go back out there without knowing? 

She steals one last, long glance over at Seiko, who is perched over Makoto on her knees. Her chin-length white hair hangs in front of her face as she blots at his wound with a damp cloth, adding pressure in hopes of staunching the bleeding. At her side there are bandages and bottles of medicine, ready to clean and protect the wound, but all Kyoko can think about is if that alone will be enough. How could that possibly be enough? 

Her hands curl into fists. No matter how it looks, she cannot afford to let her thoughts run wild. She must have faith that things will work out. If it were her lying there instead of Makoto, she knows that that is what he would have done. He would want her to get back out there. 

“I will not be able to live the same without you, should you leave me, Makoto-kun…” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. “So I expect that you will pull through. For your empress… and for the woman who…” 

The woman who cares for you.

With those words still stubbornly clinging to Kyoko’s lips, she lifts herself back onto her horse, heart pounding with all its might. She does not dare look back at Seiko and Makoto once more. It will only make her want to stay. Instead, she draws her weapon from its sheath, and with a flick of the reigns, sends herself charging out into battle once more – ready to take on whatever Junko can throw at her. 

For Makoto. 

The hours she spends in battle are long and exhausting. They must have gone for at least two more after Makoto was grievously injured, and it went without saying that there were heavy losses on both sides. Oogami Sakura, Ishimaru Kiyotaka,Yamada Hifumi, Yasuhiro Taeko, Fujisaki Chihiro, and Oowada Mondo were just some of the more major names that were lost on her side – sons and daughters of daimyo who had pledged themselves to her cause, wanting to protect their lands and people. Yet with their deaths came several large losses from Enoshima’s side as well, taking out powerful confidants such as Ikusaba Mukuro and Masuda Yasuke – although rumour had it that it was Junko herself who destroyed them. 

Nonetheless, the weight of this battle burrows itself into Kyoko’s soul. When the night comes, she will have to begin writing letters of condolences to their families. Each word of thanks will feel empty on both sides. She knows just as well as they do that they would rather have their son or daughter come home than to have them die honourably. She cannot blame them if they choose to resent her after this. She might do the same in her shoes. 

God. The thought brings her back to Makoto once more, the person she has been trying so desperately to avoid. What if she returns to find him dead? What will she say to his sister, who would now be all alone in the world? A woman as young as her, with no other family, no husband… She would be without anyone to love and support her. Her heart squeezes in prayer. Makoto cannot be dead. If not for her sake, then for his sister’s. There has to be some goodness and justice in this world. There just has to be. 

This is all she can repeat herself as she rides back to the medic’s tent. 

Unkind as it is to say, the place quite literally smells like shit. A mixture of that and blood, vomit, and sterilizing equipment. Seiko works tirelessly within, alongside several others with lesser experience than she, wrapping bandages around bleeding torsos, wiping alcohol on sizable gashes, and saying final prayers for safe passage past Izanami. The air is thick and hot with agony, but she does not let it get to her. These people are in much greater pain than she. It would be tasteless of her to complain.

As she strides into the room, following closely behind a shy woman called Gekkogahara Miaya, she tries to offer the passing soldiers a few rare smiles, or even a “thank you for your service to the Empress”. It does not do much in the way of comfort, she knows, but many of them smile anyway. One even reminds her, with a toothy grin, that they will get past this. She dearly hopes that is true. 

There are a few curtains set about between the beds to try and give the soldiers some privacy from their neighbours, so it takes some time to pin down exactly where he is, but with her naturally keen eye, the Empress doesn’t find it difficult to find him at all once they get close enough. She can hear him murmuring something to one of the nurses, something about not needing to worry for him. His voice is so raw that it almost takes her a moment to realize that it’s him, yet his words are so Makoto-like she could never fully miss it. 

“I’ll be okay if you want to look after some of the others,” he assures his nurse, a redhead. Yukizome Chisa, if she remembers correctly. It was exactly like her to be fussing over someone like Makoto, from what she’s heard from others. She could not help but smile at the mental picture of the two of them together. “I promise, I’m sturdier than I appear.”

“You needn’t be such a boy,” Chisa says, not without a hint of accusation, “Your injuries are quite serious, Naegi-kun. You are still unstable, you could even be teetering on the edge of death, and if my indiscretion leaves you-”

“Yukizome-san?” 

Miaya cuts in without thinking nor caring what the two of them are up to. She pulls back the curtain without hesitation, putting a war-ravaged Kyoko on full view. Both Chisa and Makoto straighten up immediately… although the latter immediately winces in pain and sinks back down into his bed not long after. 

“The Empress has asked to see Naegi-kun.”

Kyoko hopes she does not wince rom how bluntly Miaya delivers the message. It is not as if the other soldiers and nurses in the area are lacking in ears. As much as people love the royal family, it is not as if rumours about them are not the subject of idle gossip. She’d rather such things not be spread, especially right now, when there are more important things to contend with. 

“O-Of course!” Chisa squeaks, nodding as Kyoko steps into the small area. She definitely seems more rigid than she was a moment ago, but her smile lingers. “Is there something I can do for you, your Imperial Majesty?” 

Kyoko moves to Makoto’s bedside, pretending not to notice that he watches her do so. She’s only been in here a few minutes, but it certainly feels like everyone is watching and knows her business. What a strange emotion to be feeling at a time where things are still rather dire.

“If Naegi-kun is in reasonable enough condition, I was wondering if I might have a moment alone with him?” 

Chisa looks from Kyoko to Makoto and then back again, swallowing thickly. No one could blame her for being reluctant to leave a patient she was just insisting upon watching, but when she sees the look in Kyoko’s eye when she looks at him… well, she fails to say anything but yes. 

“I could spare a few minutes away. I suppose Munakata-kun will want my presence.” 

“Thank you. I will be sure to get you if I notice him struggling.”

With a grateful nod, Kyoko says nothing else to Chisa nor Miaya as they take their leave, leaving her alone with the man who nearly gave his life to support her.

It is just the two of them alone now, and though she fought so hard to get to this moment, it is hard to know what to say. The words build up within her like the incoming eruption of a volcano, yet they all seem to swirl together in a way that makes them feel impossible to properly produce. There is so much affection in his eyes when he looks up at her that she doesn’t even know where to go, or how she can say what she wants to say without sounding bizarre. In the end, the first words she settles on are:

“I’m so sorry.”

For whatever reason, they make Makoto chuckle – and then grimace again at the searing pain that rips through his side. “What are you sorry for?” 

“That you were hurt,” she says, her voice then lowering into a whisper, “That you could have gotten killed.”

That you still could die without ever seeing your younger sister again and being able to say good-bye. That you still could die without me ever saying everything that you deserved to hear. That I could say it all and still be too late. 

“Hey,” he whispers softly, “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

She clenches her teeth, finding it hard to look at him in this state. “You have no proof of that.” 

He shrugs a little, still trying to maintain that same, easy grin he’s been comforting her with since she walked in. She both loves it and wants it off his face as soon as possible. “Maybe not… but I can feel it.”

She purses her lips, clearly not as amused by this situation as he seems to be. Although maybe she should cut him some slack, she thinks. For all she knows, he could be pumped full of Seiko’s drugs to help him deal with the pain. 

“What, in the gigantic gash in your side?”

He shakes his head, still almost giddy, as if his eyes are not half-lidded and every movement of his limbs does not seem to make them tremble. “In the part of me that has hope. In my fire . I have no intention of dying yet. Not when you did everything you could to save my life.” 

His expression turns serious suddenly.

“I owe you everything for that. Thank you.” 

“You owe me nothing. It is my job as your Empress to protect you. On and off the battlefield,” she pauses for another quick moment, finally feeling that accursed heat begin to rise in her cheeks, “… And as your friend, I owed it to you to save your life.” 

It’s hard not to notice Makoto’s attempts to keep his brows from furrowing at the word friend. Somehow that makes her blush even more. Surely he could not be feeling the same as she, could he? It seems a bit absurd to think. 

“Still, you’re… more important than me-”

“No one is more important than you,” she interjects, “Especially not to me.”

He blinks, slowly, and his voice is lowered just to the tone of a whisper the next time he speaks.  “What are you saying, milady?”

I’d think a man as clever as you would know, she almost blurts out, but catches her tongue before she can get too far. It will do her no good in romantic endeavours to be sharp – although if experience has taught her anything, it seems as if Makoto might actually be attracted to that. Still, it is best to be gentle with him while he is in such a fragile state, even if that must extend to her words as well. 

“You…” She stops, unsure of how to phrase this. She’s never been masterful with her words, with getting things exactly right, or with expressing her emotions exactly as she feels them. It’s even harder when she has to lower voice and make sure that she doesn’t say it too loud, let it reach the wrong ears. For all that Koichi told her that a woman symbolizes perfection, she is not so sure she is it right now. But she’s willing to be the closest that she can be for Makoto’s sake. “You mean a great deal to me, Naegi-kun. More than I think you know.” 

He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. His desire to let her speak is written all over his face. 

“My saving you, it… I… I think my advisors will surely lose their sanity when they find out that it happened. My whole life, I have been told to consider myself above others when it comes to matters of life and death. They told me that I could not so easily be replaced. But when that commander, Kamukura Izuru… When he nearly slayed you…”

She swallows.

“I found myself affronted with the knowledge that if I lost you right then and there, I would never be able to replace you. You are more than just a subject or a soldier to me. And I know perhaps that it’s early to say this, given that perhaps you and I do not know each other as well as some others might, but… I have a particular fondness for you that I cannot explain – one that I do not feel for anyone else, and have never felt before.” 

“Are you saying that you…” 

“Yes.” She nods. “Yes, I am.”

“But what about your station?”

“What about my station?”

“Y-You’re the Empress. Shouldn’t you be with someone of royal descent?” 

“I’m the Empress, Naegi-kun. My bloodline is chosen by the gods. If I have had to go through this war and met you, then I know that they have brought us together to do right by me. That is how I see it.”

Makoto’s face reddens into a cute blush of his own, his eyes darting away from her as if to process this whole thing. Part of her begins to worry about this reaction, for he has not yet said that he returns her feelings. What if he feels as if he cannot reject her because of her power? Does he feel indebted to her because she saved his life? She shifts uncomfortably, praying that this is not the case. 

“Are you alright?” She asks quietly. 

“Yes. Great, really, I just…” He shakes his head, finally letting his eyes lock onto hers once more. “I never dreamed we would feel the same way.” 

Now it’s Kyoko’s turn to fall into shock, a sharp heat, one more intense than any of the others she has felt so far, spreading across her cheeks and nose. “You mean…?” 

He nods. “I do.” 

The two of them pause awkwardly, not really sure what to say. 

“So what do we do now?” 

“I think… we would usually kiss?” 

Kyoko gets up to go over to him, but he brings her to a halt with a lift of the hand. 

“Hold on. If I’m going to get through this injury, I’ll need something to live for. This seems like a pretty good thing.” 

And once again, that very natural laughter that comes in each other’s company strikes again.

Chapter Text

“I… I don’t have anywhere to sleep.” 

He… should have seen this coming. After all, he knew the rules just as well as anyone. No students were permitted to sleep outside of their dormitories, as it would be seen as sleeping in class, and be punished accordingly. Without her Student Handbook, Kyoko wouldn’t be able to get into her room. Without being able to get into her room, she would have nowhere to sleep. Unless… 

He's never really had a girl in his bed before. Okay, that’s a lie – he’s never had a girl that wasn’t Komaru in his bed before. Though he tried to insist that he could cozy up on the floor or something, she would hear none of it. She knew quite well that she was putting him out by asking to sleep in his room. It would be even more of a burden to have to give up his bed. No, she insisted that they could try to share the bed. No offers to sleep on the floor herself, just instantly from bed alone to bed together. If it weren’t for the way she averted her eyes when she asked, he might’ve wondered if she had some sort of ulterior motive… In the end, though, it’s just as well. Honestly, sharing the bed is the conclusion he might have thought up anyway. 

Still, he can’t deny the sweatiness of his palms as he sits on the edge of the bed, listening to Kyoko brush her teeth. Though she hadn’t been able to get anything from her room, the school store managed to cover at least some of what she needed. Personal grooming supplies had all been handled. The only thing she didn’t quite get was pyjamas, and even then, she’d managed to squeak by fairly well with the tank top underneath her shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants. That’s another thing that’s weird about the situation: Kyoko’s wearing his clothes. Again, apart from Komaru, he’s never really had a girl wearing his clothes before. It’s certainly not as strange to think about as sharing a bed with her, but with the level of closeness they are achieving today, it sort of feels like she’s his girlfriend. He’s never had one of those before. Is this what it’s like?

No, no. He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. It will not do for him to think about Kyoko like that, especially when she’s come to him in her time of need. What kind of guy would he be if he just assumed that she wanted to be with him because she was there? Pretty as she is, Makoto knows for sure that she’s out of his league, and that he wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize the cautious friendship they’ve formed. As far as he knows, Kyoko’s kind of… socially skittish. She doesn’t exactly give off an overwhelming aura of nervousness, but she doesn’t trust easily. He has to treat this situation with her as what it is: her placing her trust in him. 

This is the last thought that lingers on his mind as he wipes his hands on his pants, turning his head back to take a glimpse at her. She’s bent over the sink, spitting out her toothpaste, hair pulled back with one hand. He can’t help but notice that even with the removal of so many other things, she neglected to remove her gloves. A longing to ask prods at him, but he’s quick to push it away. Again, this is a situation of trust he’s in with her, the last thing he wants to do is jeopardize it. 

“Naegi-kun, are you just sitting there staring at my backside?” 

Oh, shit. 

The sharpness of Kyoko’s disapproval is quick to snap him out of his mind. Apologies spill from his lips as the tips of his ears burn a hot red. “I w-wasn’t trying to stare at you so much I was staring through you,” he sputters stupidly, “I d-d-didn’t mean to be rude; I was j-just thinking!”

Plunking her toothbrush into the cup beside the sink, Kyoko spins around to look at Makoto, one eyebrow quirked. Somehow, he feels like her eyes are boring into him. Truth be told, though he thinks Kyoko’s eyes are stunningly beautiful, he wonders if she knows how intense they feel when they rest upon you without words. The way the irises flicker back a little as she takes in the details of his face only make him feel even more scrutinized. Thankfully, the longer her gaze rests on her, the more a hint of amusement seems to break tease her mouth. Though faint, he catches a small twitch of her usual smirk there. 

“I thought it seemed unusual for you.”

“B-Believe me, it is,” he mumbles. “After all, it would be pretty awful of me to let you stay in my room and then start treating you like a piece of meat. I don’t want you to worry about that kind of thing while you’re here.” 

Her expression softens as a smile breaks free, eyes flitting down to the floor for the moment almost as if she is touched by his respectfulness. The fact that girls even have to worry about things like this makes his heart ache.

“I appreciate that, Naegi-kun… and I appreciate you taking me in when I asked. At times like these, I know it is difficult to trust anyone – myself most of all. Any other time, I might have questioned your line of thinking, but… tonight, I’m just grateful for your hospitality.” 

Makoto shrugs, doing his best to muster up his own gentle smile. “Well, we are friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other.” 

Kyoko hums and nods thoughtfully. Her eyes are on him, but it seems as if her mind is somewhere else. Where she is, he does not know, but he’d like to find out… if only to make sure that she’s still feeling safe and secure. The last few days have been extraordinarily difficult on her. Not that she’s said anything about it, but he can only assume how tough being treated like an outlaw must be. 

“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Kirigiri-san?” 

Her gaze lingers on the floor for a moment, and when it flickers back to his face, he can see that her teeth are bearing down on her lip. Blush dusts her nose and cheeks. Makoto’s heart beats faster at the sight. Whatever embarrasses her has good potential to embarrass him, too. 

“I… don’t know if this is an unusual request, or if I’m being paranoid, but…” she sighs. “Could I investigate the room quickly? Just to ensure that there are no weapons here. You are welcome to check everything I came with as well.” 

All of his anxiety melts away at her words. She wants to investigate the room to make sure she is safe. She’s embarrassed, yet it’s the most reasonable request she could have made in her position. Honestly, he’s glad that she’s giving him the opportunity to search himself. As much as he likes and trusts her, he is not ignorant to the danger he is putting himself in by welcoming her into his room. Sayaka taught him well how minacious such a situation can become through her desperation. He couldn’t save her life, but at least he could thank her for her sacrifice by not dying stupidly… Something Kyoko reminded him of regularly, when he let his temper get the better of him with Monokuma. 

“Of course, Kirigiri-san. In fact, thanks for asking. It would make me feel a lot more comfortable, too.” 

Kyoko’s arms fold across her chest as she heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I apologize for having to ask. We can go to bed right after.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He assures her with a smile. “Even if we trust each other, it’s best to do what’s safest.” 

She nods, and unless he is being deceived, that shade of rose turns to her face.

It’s hard to know what to do as he lays there, stiff as a board. 

The two of them have only been in bed together for a meager twenty minutes now, but it feels like an eternity. The bed really is meant for just the one person, so the two of them are basically on top of each other, crammed into that small space. Makoto can’t even find a way to shift into a comfortable sleeping position. He’s just laying there on his back, hands resting on his stomach like he’s a corpse. Ugh. That thought almost makes him shiver. The last thing he needs right about now is to be thinking about something like that. Even if he’s fairly confident that Kyoko won’t be murdering him tonight, those thoughts just won’t do. He can’t help but wonder if she’s having them too, as she lays there next to him.

Her positioning is honestly just more of the same. She’s relaxed herself neatly next to him, keeping to her own space – apart from her hair, of course. That slowly but surely has come to spread out like a halo around her as she readjusts. It’s like a waterfall of silver that all just pools around her head as she rests. It’s… angelic, almost. With her eyelids closed ever so softly, she looks like the picture of serenity. Part of him wants to sit there and drink her in, but he knows that that would probably creep her out. There’s no weird, fetishy desire to understand her, of course. More of a curiosity, really, to watch her in this state of calm. It reminds him more of how he would feel if he saw a particularly captivating woman in a painting, each detail of her body detailed in careful brushstrokes. He just wants to appreciate every inch of something so often unseen to him. 

“Naegi-kun?” 

He nearly jumps as the sound of her voice snaps him from his thoughts. It almost sends a shiver through him, like ice water being poured down his back. All of his focus goes onto her eyes as fast as he can manage, watching as she peels them open. Thankfully, even in the darkness, he can see that she does not appear particularly disturbed. She probably doesn’t even know that he was just admiring her. 

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are you uncomfortable?” 

Yes. Wait, no. Actually… sort of? But he doesn’t really want to tell her that. She’s already in a vulnerable position with him as it is, and he doesn’t want to make it weirder by admitting that it is weird. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he offers her little more than a shrug. 

“It’s um… it’s not bad. It’s just… different, I guess. I’m still getting used to having you here. I don’t want to invade your space or anything. We’re friends, but I don’t think you want to get too cozy with me.” 

He punctuates that last statement with a nervous chuckle, as if it is a joke. It’s not, but he would prefer she not take it as something so serious. Just a little awkwardness is nothing to sneeze at, right? 

To his surprise, however, he feels the bed move ever so slightly as she shrugs her own shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind. I have forced my way into your bed, after all. So long as you can appropriately keep your hands to yourself, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be allowed to be comfortable in your own bed.” 

Makoto’s heart skips a beat as he lifts himself onto his elbows in shock. Though in the darkness he knows it is hard to see, he fears that she’ll notice the sudden heat spreading across his face. “W-What?!” 

Kyoko lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You are such an open book, Naegi-kun, you know that, right?” 

He exhales frustratedly, slamming his head back down on the pillow. Of course it was just a joke. When it comes to Kyoko, he should really know better by now. Shutting his eyes, he decides that maybe he will just go back to sleep… Something that Kyoko thwarts when she murmurs, in the softest and sweetest of voices: 

“I was only half-joking, you know.”

Chapter Text

Kyoko’s fingers drum on the table absent-mindedly.

It’s strange to think that back in their school days, the six of them might not have gotten along. And here she is now, sitting and waiting for the last of them, heart pounding in her chest.

Byakuya, Toko, and Yasuhiro all surround her at the table as they too wait patiently. The former two are probably waiting for breakfast instead of Aoi and Makoto, but somewhere deep inside, she knows they must be elated to reunite. The group may not be perfect, and “unlikely friends” may have been an understatement, but they had come to care and depend on each other when braving the outside world. Even if they bicker and get on each other’s nerves, they know they need each other to stay sane and stay alive. Even now, they are in each other’s thoughts. Whether or not trust could be put in the Future Foundation was difficult to determine, and though the jury is still out on degrees of trust, they needed to think of each other for that, too. After all, Future Foundation has still been unable to determine how they will return their memories. Koichi Kizakura – a man she would much rather have not reunited with here – says that they are working on a way to do it “ethically”.

Unlike Junko’s manipulations, the Future Foundation technology for it is apparently much more experimental. They want to make sure that they’re doing right by the students with the methodology before forcing them through potential further trauma. She supposes she can stand by it, although she did hope that they might be able to meet again with everything in tact.

Ah, it’s just as well. She’s just happy to see everyone again at all.

She can’t wait to hear Yasuhiro’s silly nicknames for everyone, or Toko’s affectionate mumblings, or Byakyua’s quiet comments, or Aoi’s adorable giggles, or Makoto’s optimistic attitude.

Makoto…

All of them went through hell and back in the world outside of Hope’s Peak Academy, but he was undoubtedly the worst off. Even Aoi, who suffered through feverish nights and searing pain with an infected wound, did not dare compare herself to Makoto’s severe malnutrition. The poor thing had been so devoid of proper vitamins that the nurses reported fearing his teeth might fall from his gums. She had seen the petechiae speckled across his skin, sat with him through the screaming joint pain, rationed the water supply to combat his diarrhea… A bit of luck kept him from losing him completely to his condition, but the Foundation had been insistent that he needed a high degree of care upon his arrival. That is, apparently, how they decided to split them off – in twos, based off who needed the most help.

Their decision to bring them all together again is also, apparently, a good sign. At least, this is what Koichi told her when he came to fetch her and Byakuya for this breakfast. It meant that Aoi and Makoto were finally on the mend and healthy enough to move about, which meant the group was ready to reunite, if only for a few hours.

Meager time or not, gratefulness swells within the pit of Kyoko’s stomach as she waits. For their first encounter after what seems like ages apart, she knows it will feel like the first mouthful of cold water on a scorching hot day.

It's hard not to be distracted, thinking about Makoto. Conversation rumbles between the other three, but she finds her mind slipping in and out of comprehension with relative ease. Even the sweet aromas of breakfast being cooked not too far from their table, delighting her senses after two weeks of only “safe” foods, could barely hold her attention for more than a few seconds. Then, it was back to thinking about Makoto and how he was faring. In Aoi, she had always had a great deal of faith in recovery – she is a strong, healthy girl with a lot of fight in her. Makoto is much more fragile in comparison. Admittedly, she’s worried about him for about as long as they’ve been separated. She can’t quite place it, but the thought of him in pain makes her heart twist in the ugliest of ways… and the reminder that their reunion is because of his recovery makes it warm with happiness. It won’t show on her face, yet she can feel a smile threatening to shine on her lips. Every time she hears footsteps pass by, her head snaps up in excitement.

If only she had considered that the sound she should have been listening for was crutches.

She is unsure of how much time passed before that clicking registered in her ears, and before it dawned on her that this could only be a good sound. If it hadn’t been for Yasuhiro’s cheerful cry of his pet names, she might not even have looked up from the table she’d been drumming her fingers against. The moment she lifts her head to look at them, she feels almost as if she could cry… Not that she would ever do such a thing so publicly.

There, in the space just in front of their boring grey cafeteria table, stand Aoi and Makoto, looking much better than they have in an incredibly long time.

Aoi’s sun-kissed skin is now back to its full, warm splendor. Though it is bandaged, she can see that the skin that was once peeling and yellowed has now begun to repair itself, and join the rest in a celebration of health. Her long brown hair hangs loose, spilling down her back in a now tangle-free waterfall. The clothes she wears look so cozy and inviting that Kyoko almost wishes that she could don them herself – a cream coloured sweater and a pair of grey shorts, for ease of access to her recovering wound. The thing that really tips Kyoko off to her friend’s recovery, though, is her eyes. They are sparkling like there’s no tomorrow, even though the situation still is far from their ideal. All she seems to care about now is that her friends are here.

As for Makoto, well, he beams like a ray of sunshine. Like Aoi, he’s wearing the comfiest of clothes – potentially even comfier, given that he has a full sweat set. His cheeks are a cheerful, rosy pink and his face has never looked more alert. The fact that he’s as comfortable as he is standing on his own two feet is something to celebrate, and the way he’s actually double-checking that Aoi won’t fall even more so. He matches her smile as they make their way up to the table, the two of them barely able to contain the giggles that sneak past their lips.

“Hey, Asahinans, Naegicchi!” Yasuhiro calls out, “Long time no see, how ya doin’?”

Aoi lets out a loud laugh, swinging her good leg at him as she wobbles over on her crutches. “I’m still kickin’! How about you?”

“Better now that I’m seein’ everyone’s faces again!”

Fighting off a smile is damn near impossible, so she doesn’t bother. She just lets it stretch across her face; gaze glued on Makoto as he helps Aoi to the table. She doesn’t have the memories to back up such a claim, but she feels as if she has never wanted to run to him as much as she does now. If it weren’t for her typical decorum, she’d probably be bouncing around like a puppy who just received a visitor. Even with her self-control in check, she can’t help springing to her feet as the two get closer. Try as she might to keep calm, she really does just want to fling herself into Makoto’s arms. Her speed appears to say as much, for both Toko and Byakuya’s brows twist and furrow at the sight. It sends rouge burning through her cheeks. With an awkward shuffle, however, she is able to pass it off as hopping up to help Aoi.

“Oh, you’re such a sweetheart, Kirigiri-san, but you don’t have to hop up to help me,” she laughs, shaking her head, “Honestly, even having Naegi-kun doing it is a little overkill.”

Makoto’s lower lip sticks out in a bit of a pout at the words. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble, Asahina-san, I just don’t want you to fall… you’re still getting used to being on your feet again.”

“And you’re a sweetheart for that, too, but honestly, I’m totally fine! I made it all the way here, didn’t I?”

Kyoko chuckles softly, her eyes still fixed on Makoto. Even in a worried state, he looks so... Words fail to describe it. Is it warm? Comforting? Soothing? Part of her wonders if it even matters what it is. Maybe she should just be happy to have it in her life once more. “You know he can’t stop helping you, Asahina-san. It’s as natural to him as breathing.”

Makoto blushes a deep crimson, his pout deepening. For a moment, she worries that she’s actually upset him, but there’s a glimmer of cheekiness hiding behind those eyes. Seeing him with this expression sends her heart skipping a beat. She does not know why… but she thinks she likes it. “So this is the first time we see each other in two weeks, and the first thing you do is tease me?”

Aoi snickers. “Would she be your Kirigiri-san if she didn’t?”

Finally, the happiness he has been trying to hide finally wins its spot on his face. In a more hushed voice, he whispers, “It’s good to see you again, Kirigiri-san.”

“It’s wonderful to see you as well, Naegi-kun.”

Somehow… she likes the idea of being called his Kirigiri-san.

It’s difficult to say how many hours they all spend together once they settle in for breakfast. As the conversation picks up, the six of them get back into the swing of things, and it’s almost as if no time has passed between them at all. Everything melts back into being how it was – except, of course, with better health. As Aoi and Yasuhiro bicker over something stupid and Toko fawns over Byakuya, Kyoko finds herself lost in conversation once more with the boy she has so deeply missed.

It's surprising how charming he can look while shoveling food into his face so eagerly. She knows they’ve all been eating like pigs since they arrived at Future Foundation Headquarters, but Makoto in particular seems to be relishing his newfound regular breakfasts. This morning the volunteer chefs have been cooked up a Western-style meal, complete with sunny side-up eggs, smoked ham, roasted and spiced potatoes, and toast with crabapple jelly. The whole thing has the most amazing aroma, but she can’t help but notice how Makoto has two helpings of toast – he’s doing well, based on the rosiness of his cheeks, but he may still have some recovery to do yet if they are trying to get as much jelly into him as possible. It will help spike his Vitamin C back up to normal levels.

“You wouldn’t believe how great I feel right now, Kirigiri-san,” Makoto babbles enthusiastically (and partially through a mouthful of roast potatoes), “The doctors say I’ve been getting better and better by the day, and now, getting to see everyone…! I’m on top of the world.”

Even she can’t help but smile at his joy, leaning against her hand. “I so missed your enthusiasm, Naegi-kun. It’s a relief to reunite with you. You’ve been in my thoughts a lot lately.”

Swallowing a big bite of food, he nods. “You’ve been in mine, too! Aoi and I talked about you all the time… nicely, of course,” he says, his sunny disposition fading ever so slightly, “I know you’re strong, but I was still a little worried about you.”

She nods thoughtfully. “It’s only natural to worry, although I would argue that I had my hands full worrying about you as well.”

Makoto scratches at the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. “S-Sorry about that. I don’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

“Worrying about you is no trouble. It’s a blessing, really, to worry about someone, isn’t it?”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Worrying about someone means you have something to care about. That’s special, is it not?”

Makoto nods with a grateful smile. It’s hard to place what it is, but there’s something unspoken between them as they stare into each other’s eyes. There are no words between them for but a moment, but the pause is comfortable and warm. There is no pressure to say much of anything. Instead, they simply allow each other to relish the moment of being together.

“Kirigiri-san?”

“Hm?”

Makoto places his hand on hers, eyes twinkling with sincerity. “I really missed you.”

Blushing, Kyoko confesses, “I missed you as well.”

Chapter Text

Kyoko always knew Makoto would cry on his child’s first day of school. She knew this even when the two of them were still in school. You could take one look at the man and know that someday, far off in the future, the day he saw his precious angel go off into the world for the first time as an academic, that he would just melt into a puddle of tears. It was a given – or at least, she thought it was.

What she never accounted for back in those days is the fact that she might start to cry along with him. Well, she’s trying not to, anyway. She’s certainly doing a better job of holding it together than he is. She supposes that’s something. They usually rely on her to be the emotionally constipated person in this relationship anyway.

Years ago, she’d never have even considered being in this position with him. Children were damn near out of the question after all of the grief she’d been through. But now, she is sitting with him in their car, listening to their son and daughter sing along to one of Sayaka Maizono’s old pop songs. Neither Makoto nor Kyoko knows why their children love them so much. Komaru’s influence, if she had to guess. Kyoko can’t say she minds. All that matters to her is that her children are happy. Besides, their cheerful little voices filling the air in song helps take her mind off the sorrow that plagues her, even if it is only for a moment.

Unfortunately, it may be doing the opposite for Makoto, who still looks glassy-eyed.

She reaches over and places a hand on his thigh, squeezing it softly. He flashes her a somewhat quivering smile. Crying, even if it was prideful, could worry Hope. Makoto doesn’t want to ruin her big day, so he seems rather desperate not to let the tears fall. Hope has been bragging to everyone they meet at the Marketplace that she’s going to school in April. Any sign of sadness from either of her parents would probably make her decide that she would not go. Of course, she would – any kind of education in a post-Tragedy world was far too good to pass up – but she’d make a whole show of it. If they could keep it together, they could send her to school bouncing and singing instead of kicking and crying. That is, in the end, the goal. It is the one that Kyoko keeps repeating in hopes of staying strong.

What everyone says about being a parent is true. Both the hardest and proudest part of being a parent is watching them grow up right before your eyes. The only problem is, that even if they tell you these things, nobody ever seems to have enough advice for how to cope with it. Even she, who can control her emotions with relative ease, is struck dumb. Just because she can keep it together doesn’t mean her husband can, and how is she meant to comfort him? She cannot risk being too much heavier than she is right now, lest she attract their daughter’s attention, but he needs her right now, too.

Hm. It really is funny to be in this position. She never thought she would fall in love with the plain boy from school. Having his children was something she’d considered even less. She’s far from perfect, she knows that much, but the three of them love her with all of their hearts, and for that, she is eternally grateful. If she can have that love, then she doesn’t really mind fending off situations like these, awkwardly consoling her husband and hyping up her daughter for her first real day of school.

With all that love in her heart, however, Kyoko does have to admit that even Makoto is a little embarrassed to see how much better the other parents seem to be holding it together for the first day of school… or at least, the ones they’re friends with.

She doesn’t know what Yasuhiro and Kanon’s deal is – Yasuhiro is absolutely the type to blubber, and with Kanon’s history of attachment issues, one would think she might struggle sending her “precious little peanut” to school. Yet somehow, the two of them appear to be coping quite well. Kanon is basically conducting a little photoshoot of Leon in his little light-blue button up and sun hat, and Yasuhiro is right behind her striking poses for the little one to mimic. Were she not so overwhelmed by the fact that her daughter will join their son, she might have chuckled at the sight. Instead, she could only watch with a half-smile, wondering how on earth Aoi could manage to match their chipper demeanour.

It's true that you could usually come to expect a positive attitude from the ex-Super High School Level Swimmer, but when it came to her beloved Sakura, she tended to be a fussy parent. She’d adopted the girl when she was no more than a babe, and doted on her every move ever since. While Sakura is a sweet child, she is quite shy, and that means that Aoi tends to fuss every time an unfamiliar social situation comes around. She is always saying what good luck it was that Leon and Hope were so outgoing and understanding at the same time, because without them, Sakura might never get out of her shell. Yet somehow now, when she would normally be plagued with worry, she seems relatively at ease. Jealousy bubbles inside of Kyoko. Usually she’s the one who gets to be that calm.

Between her friends acting normal and her daughter going to school, Kyoko is beginning to feel a little bit like she’s in upside down town.

“Excited for the big day, Kyoko-chan?” Aoi asks like she can read her mind, nudging her shoulder playfully. Koichi, who is resting in his mother’s arms, seems to take to being jostled, pouting. He nuzzles his face into his mother’s shoulder. His godmother doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s another one of those big important milestones, after all!”

At times like these, Kyoko is thankful for her history of stoicism, because she doesn’t have to pretend to smile for Aoi’s sake. Even if she doesn’t show it on her face, Aoi will assume her joy in this situation. Sometimes she’s proven to be understanding of the difference between a neutral-stoicism and a nervous-one, but it can still be fairly touch and go. In fact, Makoto and increasingly Hope seem to be the only ones who can pick it up with a keener sense.

“Seems just like yesteryda they were learning to hold their heads up by themselves,” she says, trying her best to give some oomph to her tone. She will give herself away if she speaks too flatly. “Now they’re going to school for the first time.”

“Yeah, the years really fly by quickly, don’t they?” Aoi chuckles, turning her attention to Koichi. She smiles at the little boy. In spite of his earlier upset with her, he blushes and buries his face in the crook of Kyoko’s neck. In comparison to his sister, who can make friends with anyone in the matter of an hour, Koichi is a much shyer child. What will his first day of school be like, she wonders? Oh, it’s hard enough watching Makoto stand beside her as she babbles to Leon and Kanon, but someday she’ll have to do this with Koichi, too? At least she can comfort herself with the knowledge that Hope has friends to stick with. Unless Aoi or the Hagakures adopt a child his age, the poor thing will be all alone! Oh, suddenly she’s beginning to understand the full force of Makoto’s teary eyes earlier…

And all that’s without even considering what an uncertain environment schooling will always be to her and her husband. She understood and shared Makoto’s pain over their daughter growing up, that much was inevitable. Most of the time, she prefers to focus on that. That doesn’t remind her of the time she spent in the Killing School Life, or the Tragedy she watched with her own eyes. The world is only newly recovered, no more a babe than Koichi is, so how can she trust it to treat her daughter with kindness? How can she not worry that someone would want to take her daughter from her, the same way it took her father and her friends?

If Makoto is afraid of his little girl growing up, then Kyoko is afraid of her little girl growing up and that being something that catches her in the crossfire of a war she never asked to be apart of.

“They… sure do.” She rubs Koichi’s back softly, hating the way how small her voice sounds. It is so hard to sound confident, with the feeling of growing up still swirling around in her mind. Feeling Koichi’s breath against her skin, so soft and tiny, she longs to keep him small forever. That way, she can protect him with everything she is. She supposes she can keep throwing tantrums about his dad giving him the “wrong” red plate, so long as he promises to be her cute little baby boy forever.

“Are you okay, Kyoko-chan?”

No, a more impulsive part of her nearly blurts out. She settles for “hm?” instead.

“I asked if you were okay. You seem really distracted, and you keep staring at Makoto and Hope.” Her expression softens. “Are you having a hard time?”

Silently, she prays that no heat has risen to her face at the question. If there is one thing she has always found when it comes to suppressing emotion, it’s that the worst of it is always when someone you love asks if you’re already. Nine times out of ten, it is always the thing that causes the floodgates to burst and then suddenly you’re crying about how you never really knew your father. Not that she ever did that.

“I’m… fine,” she replies, her voice carefully practiced. Then, lowering it, she continues. “I’m merely worried about Makoto.”

Not a total lie, but not a full truth, either.

Aoi blinks. “Makoto? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing of the sort… It’s just been a hard morning for him, I think. You know he loves his job, but Hope, Koichi, and I are his whole world. I imagine it’s hard for him to reconcile the fact that our little girl is growing up.”

To this, Aoi smiles thoughtfully. “I know what you mean. I’m not gonna lie, I had a big cry about Sakura’s first day last night.”

“Don’t cry, auntie,” Koichi murmurs, his face still buried in the nape of Kyoko’s neck. Much to his delight, his auntie smiles and tickles him, prompting a fit of pleased giggles. It’s music to Kyoko’s ears at a difficult time. For a moment, she wonders if it will be enough to soothe her anxieties entirely.

“Don’t you worry, baby boy, I’m all good now.” She then lifts her attention back to Kyoko. “And don’t you worry either, mama. Hope’s going to be just fine. Make sure Makoto knows that too, yeah?”

Kyoko exhales through her nose. “Of course.”

“Okay, okay, now let’s get a picture of the three of you together, okay?”

Kanon’s voice, cheerful and bright, floods Kyoko’s ears as she watches the children pose, big smiles on their faces. Her fingers are laced carefully with Makoto’s, the only show of support she can give him without either of them melting into a puddle of proud parental tears. Even in their sorrow, they are still beaming with pride about their little girl, who is unfathomably adorable in her school outfit. When she smiles, you can see her missing teeth, and juxtaposed against the twin braids she asked Kyoko for, they are quite possibly the cutest thing ever. Between every picture she stops and makes a face at her little brother, sticking out her tongue or pushing up the tip of her nose, and he shrieks and giggles in delight. God, how can it already be her first day of school?

“How about we get one of the kids closer to the school building, with their backs turned to us, Kanon-chan? We can make it like one of those old photographs,” Aoi suggests.

“Ooh, aesthetic! I like it!”

With that, Kanon begins to direct the children forward a few steps, telling them to turn around and fussing when Leon keeps turning the wrong way just to be an imp. Beside her, Makoto heaves a heavy sigh, though she can see that he is trying to keep up his smile.

“Are you alright?” She asks in a quiet voice, leaning closer to him. “I know how hard you’re trying to be tough.”

“Oh, I’m melting like an ice cream cone, Kyoko,” he says, voice wavering slightly, “But I’m keeping it together for my girl, just like I said I would.”

“We’re getting ice cream?” Koichi asks, perking up.

“No, sorry Sun Beam, too early for ice cream,” Makoto strokes the boy’s head. “Although maybe we can get some when your sister comes home from school, okay?”

Koichi giggles and claps his hands at the prospect, cuddling in close to his mother once more.

“You were saying?” She prompts.

“It is so hard. I don’t want her to be upset that I’m upset, but I don’t know how the days went by so fast. How is she already at school?” He shakes his head, pushing a smile. “I’m sure you feel the same way.”

She nods thoughtfully. “I do, truly. It certainly doesn’t help that school was a tumultuous time for us… for many children, really.”

Her heart aches as reminders of the students in years past sprint through her mind. The first-year girl who had burns across her face from a school attack, the third year who – despite intense therapy, she was told – couldn’t let a teacher get too close, the puny concentration of survivors from Hope’s Peak Elementary who could barely recount experiences due to traumatic memories… Once upon a time, schooling had been this strong, wonderful thing that pushed students to become their best selves. Somewhere along the line, Japan started to stumble, and more students succumbed to academic pressure. Then the Tragedy hit, and all of the sudden, something as beautiful as learning was discarded in favour of surviving, no matter the cost. As much work as the other survivors of the Tragedy have done to improve this, it is hard not to be at least a little apprehensive about what is to come. Her daughter is getting bigger, and that is the main source of her pain, but she would be lying if she said that some small part of her wasn’t concerned about what might happen to her there.

When she sees the twitch of Makoto’s lips, she knows he must have been thinking the same thing. When did he become as much of a sceptic as she, she thinks sadly. “True, but… this will be different. This is a post-hope world we’re talking about, with our Hope. Everyone has learned from their mistakes, and are trying to make a better world. By sending her here, we’re getting to be a part of that,” he shrugs his shoulder a little, “But again, doesn’t make it easier to see her grow.”

She nods again, pressing her lips together. “You’re right,” she mumbles, “You’re right.”

“We just have to trust that everything will be okay. Besides, this is Hope we’re talking about, right? With your brains and bravery, she’ll know exactly how to take care of herself. Look at her, she’s not half as choked up about this as we are!”

Kyoko can’t help but smile fondly as she watches Hope, now turned around to face Kanon’s camera again, making silly faces with Leon and Sakura. Her eyes are bright as a glittering star, and her grin is so wide, it’s like she doesn’t have a care in the world. This day is such an important milestone for her. She’s so proud to be going to school.

“Oh, to be her age again,” she sighs. What must her mother have felt like on her first day of school, she wonders. Was she there? Or was it Grandpa Touhachirou who took her, while her father looked after her mother in the hospital? “I wish I had her confidence now… that, I think, she gets from you.”

Makoto chuckles and scratches at his cheek. “Since when I am confident? You’re always getting on my case about saying I’m boring.”

“I was referring to her optimistic confidence. She believes that everything will turn out alright in the end, just as you do. Even if it hurts, she can push forward…”

Her husband doesn’t reply, but the corners of his mouth twitch in recognition, and he leans his head on her shoulder. Koichi takes this as a cue to fluff up his father’s hair, earning himself a laugh from Makoto.

“Everything will be alright, won’t it?”

“Of course it will.”

Like a beast sending out a cry to shock its prey, the school bell rings, signaling the parents and children that it is time to get ready to bring the kids to class. Already she can see the looks of alarm cross the parents’ – and Sakura’s, bless her little heart – faces as the reality of their incoming separation dawns on them.

Kyoko squeezes Makoto’s hand in comfort. He squeezes hers back.

Ms. Ogata hardly looks like the kind of woman you would be afraid to have your children around. She’s a young woman, likely only a few years older than Kyoko herself, with a round face and narrow nose. Her hair is short and straight, as healthy as you can get while also looking a bit wispy, with highlights of blonde striking across her natural brown like paint strokes. Her eyes are a bit larger than most, with only a little make-up to draw you to them – no matter. They are such a deep shade of brown, almost black, that Kyoko feels herself looking at them no matter what. She’s always loved eyes that shade. She is dressed smartly, perhaps even a bit overdressed for a kindergarten teacher, but she explains that this is her first job in a while.

I just couldn’t help wanting to look the part.

She certainly doesn’t seem like the baby eater Kyoko’s paranoia thought she might be. As for Makoto, he seems to perk right up when she greets him with a smile and talks to him about the colourful classroom decorations he’d been admiring. She even compliments Hope’s braids and asks whether she likes to go by Naegi-chan or Kirigiri-chan. She’s nice. Her eyes are sparkling as she shakes everyone’s hands.

Kyoko’s eyes must be sparkling too, she thinks. The more time she spends in here, seeing parents and children alike buzzing about for the first day, the more glassy-eyed she becomes. When she looks over at Makoto, with Hope’s hand held so gently in his own, she never wants to see them part. It is so hard to think that this might not be their always.

Nonetheless, for her, Makoto smiles the best he can. “It will be okay,” he mouths, “She’ll do well here.”

Able to nothing else, she nods and pretends she is living in a world of normalcy.

For a while, they are able to just sit, just them and their friends and their children, and chatter while Ms. Ogata greets the new students that file in after them. The children talk amongst themselves, with Hope and Leon comforting Sakura, reminding her that they’re going to have the best school year ever because they are all together. Kanon and Yasuhiro laugh with Aoi about something, and though they seem to be trying to hook Makoto into conversation, he’s half-out, tears seeming more and more likely to wet his lashes within the next few minutes. After all, as more kids and parents file in, some file out, waving at each other through doorways and taking one last gaze.

Kyoko struggles to push up her sweater sleeve to get a look at her watch. Thankfully, a pair of chubby toddler hands help her. She can’t help but smile a little at her son, who beams delightedly at having helped his mother.

“Thank you, Koichi.”

“’Welcome, Mommy!”

As her gaze finds its way back down to her risk, her heart sinks. Hope’s Peak Academy is already in session. Byakuya and Toko are holding down the fort, but they will have to be back soon. After all, in a recovering world, more people are looking for true organization and community. As a result, the group has been roped into more and more meetings. Their first day of school is set to be at 10:00. Her watch currently reads 9:02.

She reaches out to touch Makoto’s arm, but her fingers have barely made contact when Kanon seems to notice the grim look on her face.

“Is it time for you to get headed out?” She asks, a small crease in her brow. Kyoko can’t decide whether she’s envious of Kanon or glad that she’s trying to sympathize. Her work as a make-up artist meant that she could stay longer with Leon today. She, Makoto, Yasuhiro, and Aoi were running on lesser time.

“I regret to say so,” she sighs. She is not sure what she expects to see as she looks over at Hope, knowing that she must have overheard, but the expression of pure disappointment is a surprise. They’d already discussed that Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t stay with her all day long because they had to get to their school and drop Koichi off with Auntie Komaru. Her parents leaving her was not a surprise. Even so, her lower lip stuck out into a pout shatters Kyoko’s heart into a million pieces. She doesn’t even have to look over at Makoto to know that he is still close to tears.

“You’ve gotta go already?”

Biting her lip, Kyoko nods. “We have a big meeting at Hope’s Peak we must get to. I’m sorry. You know Daddy and I would love to stay longer if we could. Aoi-chan and Yasuhiro-kun, too.”

Hope’s vision slides over to her father, and the pout seems to deepen. “Are you sure you want to go, Daddy? You look so sad.”

Makoto shakes his head, reaching out to place a hand on his daughter’s cheek. She nuzzles her face into it lovingly, holding him close. It’s an unusual show of affection for the two, especially in such a public place, but no part of Kyoko worries about any staring. It is a hard day for everyone. Surely, the other parents will understand his pain.

“I’d never be away from you if I had it my way, Sun Flower. But just like Ogata-sensei made a promise to look after you here, we made a promise to take care of the big kids at Hope’s Peak. I’m only sad because I’m going to miss you while we’re apart, but I know you’ll have all kinds of fun stories for us about the great day you had when we come and get you at the end of the day. It’ll be just like when you used to spend the day with Auntie Komaru.”

“I’m gonna miss you, Daddy. Mommy and Koichi, too.”

Kyoko feels Koichi’s face press into her shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say, but he too is hurt by the distance. She places a hand on the back of his head soothingly.

“And we’ll all miss you, Hope. It’s just as Daddy said, though. The day will go by in a flash, and we’ll all be together again for dinner. In the mean time, you, Sakura, and Leon are going to have so much fun learning and playing together. And you know, we’re not just teary because we’ll miss you.”

The little girl’s eyebrows raise slightly. “You’re not?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not just that. We’re crying because we’re so proud of you. In the blink of an eye, you’ve become our brave big girl.”

“If parents always got their way, we’d keep you little forever,” Makoto chimes in. When Hope glances over at her aunties and uncle to confirm, they nod in agreement. “But you have to grow up sometime, and we’re okay with that, because we know you are going to be a wonderful person.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you already are. So don’t you worry about us, sweetheart. We’ll be okay. After all, we’ve got a big brave girl in kindergarten, and Koichi will still be little for us for a while longer.”

Looking between her parents one last time, Hope nods, pushing for a bit more of a smile. “Thanks for being my mommy and daddy,” she says, “I’ll do my best to be your big brave girl. But you’ve gotta be big and brave for me too, okay?”

Kyoko and Makoto chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

The ride back to the house to drop off Koichi is quiet. Too overwhelmed by their emotions, Makoto neglects to fire up Sayaka’s EP, so they just sit and listen to the hum of the motor and the sound of Koichi’s soft snores once he falls asleep in the car seat. Passing him off to Komaru after that is no trouble at all, but still, Kyoko finds that she and Makoto are sitting in silence.

She doesn’t even have to ask him to know that they are both preoccupied with thinking about Hope.

“How are you holding up, Makoto?” She asks as they slide back into her car. Shutting the door behind them is like putting them into their own private pocket of the world. With tinted windows for privacy, they are safe to express themselves as they please here. “I could see how hard you were trying to be for Hope.”

Makoto half-smiles, opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky breath, followed by a small sob. His eyes are all too watery as he looks over at her, and though there is likely so much that he wants to say, words don’t form. Kyoko can do nothing but sigh and bring her hand back to its place on his thigh, just as before, when it was the three of them in the car instead of just the two of them.

“Why did she have to get bigger?” He whimpers, still smiling, swiping at his eyes. “I wish she could have been my little girl forever.”

“She’ll always be your little girl, Makoto,” Kyoko soothes, her other free hand sliding along his jaw to cup his cheek, “She’s just getting older, that’s all. We all knew the day was coming, although I agree that I wish it didn’t have to be so soon… But it’ll be alright. That’s what you were saying to me earlier, wasn’t it?”

He nods, drawing in a deep breath. “It will absolutely be alright. She’s going to have a wonderful first day of school…” He shakes his head. “I think I just need to be her sad dad for a little while, that’s all. I know I’ll be thinking about her all day.”

“I will too, but it’s like you said – her first day will be great. I can only imagine the kinds of stories she’s going to have for us when she comes back.”

“Oh, they’ll be good ones,” he chuckles, “Honestly, I’m more worried for Ogata-sensei than I am Hope in that department.”

“Our girl’s a bit of a whirlwind in that regard. I’m sure she’ll have the whole class playing Animal Princess Warriors with her by the first break.”

Makoto sniffles and wipes his eyes once more. “You’re right… Thanks for checking up on me, Kyoko. I know today has been hard on you, too. Are you still worried?”

Kyoko pauses for a moment, mulling over the thoughts in her mind. Admittedly, it had been hard to leave the room and drive away from Hope. It was like she was, by extension, driving away from the idea of her daughter’s safety. However, the longer she found herself thinking about the classroom, about Ms. Ogata, about Sakura and Leon, and Hope’s strength of character… that worry began to temper itself little by little. As the girl’s mother, she would never not worry, but seeing everything for herself did ease her concern. After all, if someone was going to pick up something fishy about the environment or situation, it would be her.

“For Hope? Only a healthy amount. For you, on the other hand? Just a little,” She snickers, “I want my Mr. Open Book to be alright.”

Makoto laughs. “Well, if Mrs. Open Book is alright, then Mr. Open Book supposes he can keep it together.”

“Oh, so you’ll let me take your last name now, eh?”

The two erupt into a natural laughter, and though everything about today has not gotten any easier, Kyoko knows they will be okay. As long as they keep their heads up and believe in the goodness of their world – and the goodness of each other – they will come out the other side. They always have.