Work Text:
You remember it as clear as day.
Kuzuryu-kun, we cannot see each other like this anymore.
Her voice was firm, but not without sympathy. You consider yourself an expert on her voice, so you know that she wasn’t speaking without a hint of pain. Something in it was hurting her. You like to imagine that she loved you, too, and that she wanted to be with you, too, because you were so certain she did. For all her many gifts, acting is not one of them. She could not have been so dishonest with you.
But then, maybe you aren’t as much an expert as you once thought.
It’s possible the pain in her voice had nothing to do with truly wanting to be with you and being forced into a different arrangement by her family. It’s possible it had nothing to do with her need to do her duty over her desire to do otherwise. It’s possible it had nothing to do with the kind of pain you were feeling but everything to do with it, just…different.
The pain may have come from pity for you.
You don’t like to think about that.
I’m engaged, Kuzuryu-kun.
You’d shouted at her – To who? – because shouting always helped in these sorts of situations. (It certainly always helped your papa and mama when they were having a disagreement.) Then you’d quieted yourself, hands clenching and unclenching, as you said, hanging your head, I’m sorry.
There’s no need. She didn’t even flinch when you raised your voice. Just like she doesn’t turn her face away when she says, cool as anything, To the heir of the Amami clan.
You grit your teeth, thinking about it now. Amami Rantaro isn’t even a bad guy. There’s nothing for you to say against him. You couldn’t – and can’t – pretend that you’d be better for her than he would. In every respect, Rantaro is a gentleman. You’ve met him. You know. He’s the best of the best.
The Amamis also shot down your family’s proposal multiple times. Not because your parents hadn’t offered them enough, but because they thought your sister’s personality didn’t mesh well with their precious little boy. Those fuckers had the ability to think about personality – that’s how far their clan is above yours! You will never be able to reach them, not in a million years, so—
Why are you calling me Kuzuryu-kun? you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from asking. Why don’t you call me—
We are not together, Kuzuryu-kun, she’d murmured. I do not want Amami-kun to be jealous.
You’re an expert on her voice, so you know that what she really means is I cannot risk this engagement. My family needs this.
You don’t understand how to convince her that you need her, and not because you’re trying to further your family or out of some sick, twisted sense of duty!
You just…you just….
The offer comes a few months after you join Hope’s Peak.
Not as one of their Ultimates, of course. She did, as the Ultimate Yakuza, which was to be expected. So did the others of your little friend group: your sister, Ikusaba Ryoko, and Ikusaba Mukuro. You’re the only one who didn’t, because there’s nothing you excel at. Not on the level of an Ultimate, anyway. You can’t even say you’re the Ultimate Brother, or anything like that, because Amami Rantaro is taking that slot.
(Really, they call him the Ultimate Luck, but the case for it is spelled out in what happened with his sisters, so he might as well be the Ultimate Brother, too.)
It makes you sick.
No, you’re not one of the lucky ones. You never have been. That’s why you were stuck here, in Hope’s Peak’s Reserve Course, at the behest of your parents’ money. It’s a lot, sure, but it will make the Kuzuryu clan look better, like more of an option for other clans. It makes you useful – and you hate that fucking word because it’s so close to that sense of duty that has the girl you love by her throat.
(If she were a guy, you’d say it had her by the balls, and while she does, metaphorically speaking, have balls, they’re not really the kind you can have a girl by. Not that you’d care if she did.
Getting off track here, you fucker.)
The offer itself is pretty lucky, though. The board of trustees and some of their Ultimates seem to have found a way to give Ultimate-level Talent to a normal, average, lackluster guy like you. It sounds too good to be true, which means it probably is, but you….
You have to go for it, right?
If you take this chance, then you can come out of it better, right?
Maybe you won’t be better than that Amami guy, but…but they said this might make you the Ultimate Hope. For all of humanity. And while you kind of don’t give much of a fuck about the rest of humanity, you think, you know, if you are, then that would put you on your own level.
And then she doesn’t have to stay with Amami.
She can be with you.
Because you’ll be the best option – everyone will be able to see that – and, most importantly, her parents will be able to see it, too. They’ll let her choose you, and she can pretend it’s out of her sense of duty, but she’ll also be choosing you because it’s you and she loves you, you know she does.
You’ll give her that cake and let her eat it, too.
You’ll give her the best of both worlds.
You don’t just sign your name on the dotted line, you sign for your parents, too. It would be too much of a risk to tell them, too much of a risk that they might say no. You have to do this.
For Peko.
The last thing you remember thinking as they tear open your brain is this:
No.
You’re not one of the lucky ones.
You never have been.
You never will be.
When you wake up, they name you Izuru Kamukura.
You feel like you should remember something – someone – but you don’t know who it could be.
Sometimes, though….
Sometimes, in that room they lock you in, you think you can hear her voice.
I don’t love you.
You’re an expert on voices and tones.
She’s lying.