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Each and every moment of tranquility Byakuya gathered always magically disintegrated the moment a certain Miss Toko Fukawa appeared.
Everything about her drove him crazy.
Her face, her scent, her lack of hygiene, her obnoxious breathing and borderline psychopathic habits that went far past yandere were nothing but distracting and indisputably disgusting.
And he had to deal with it. Every single day.
-
It was a routine in its own right: eat breakfast, be followed by an ex-serial killer, read in the library across from her then sleep and hope to not be murdered.
And today was one of those days.
But today, it was different.
Byakuya was in a bad mood, snapping at anyone and anything in his way, leaving the atmosphere at breakfast that morning particularly awkward.
Despite the glares and protests from his classmates, there was one who always stuck around for him - for no reason Byakuya could possibly comprehend.
That morning, when Byakuya quite literally slammed the table, walking out in a huff, he heard hushed echoes whispering his name when a shy, stuttering and squeaky voice shut everyone up:
‘S-so what? D-d-don’t t-talk about Master like that! H-he’s just tired of being around brainless morons like you all!’
Regardless of the slight softness forming in his heart, he rolled his eyes, strutting off to the library as he heard footsteps running from behind him.
-
For about 2 hours, Byakuya could not focus whatsoever. And worst of all, he couldn’t understand why. It must be Toko, he discerned. Why else was there a pounding in his chest, a dryness in his throat whenever she was around? Why else would he look for her in rooms full of people? She was definitely the problem.
He turned the page of his book slowly before turning around to inspect Toko, the faint rustle of her pen and paper filling the air.
Toko was entranced by the paper and pen she had been writing on since morning. Her cool and composed nature contrasted to the timid, wary girl he had gotten used to. Much to Byakuya’s dismay, his curiosity was indefinitely piqued.
She wrote hastily, ideas and scribbled-out letters sprawled messily across the paper.
Sensing his gaze, Toko looked up and her face instantly flushed red.
‘Y-y-yes Master? I-ugh-oh, h-how shameful of me, distracted by my White Prince’s beautiful face. Please punish me. S-someone a-as useless as me doesn’t even deserve to be sitting close to you…’
Wordless mutters and mewls raced out of Toko’s mouth; a mixture of guilt and panic (and pleasure?) flickered across her face.
He had to do something about this ‘problem’ of his. He had to make her go away.
‘If you want to help me, or even have some use for once in your life. Leave. Will you ever shut that vile, obscene mouth of yours? Your presence, your odour is contaminating this entire building. No wonder nobody loves you, or ever will. The next murder, I really hope it’s you. I have no desire, now and for the rest of my life, to ever look at you or even pay you attention for the rest of my life. Leave. Now.’
Words spilled out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. Was he too harsh? Would he finally get rid of her? Would she even listen?
Toko stared at him, before gazing at the carpet as a cry exited her mouth. She ran off, tears forming and whimpering to herself.
Well fuck. Now he’s done it.
Despite how much Byakuya pushed it back inside of him, he couldn’t deny that *very, very* deep down, a part of him felt a twinge of guilt inside of him. Regret?
-
He walked towards her old seat, enveloping in her lingering presence when he noticed a piece of paper.
The very one she had been writing on.
The very one he had been secretly interested in - morbid curiosity he told himself.
Against his better nature, Byakuya picked the paper up and started reading it, word by word.
-
Byakuya hated romance, love stories or most things fictitious for that matter, but nonetheless he found himself lost in Toko’s story: a romantic historical fantasy about an isolated beautiful young princess from the corrupt monarchy who fell in love with a charming pauper who opposed the royal family.
The fatalistic, star-crossed lovers trope was cliché, but was balanced out by the dark (and predominantly realistic) historical context.
Despite the rather alarming similarities between real life people and the characters, he reluctantly found himself enjoying the bickering amongst the familiar temperaments -
But he didn’t really know how to feel about the second leads, the nonchalant, icy tsundere male knight who was hopelessly in love with the shy, stuttering yet aggressive childhood friend of the male lead.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was entirely captivated into the book. He turned over the final page, only to be met with the final lines and a final author’s note:
‘This story is dedicated to my one true love, who motivated me even when I was also trapped in my own castle.’
He hated to admit it, but he knew he had to apologise, and to *eventually* accept his changing feelings.
Paper in hand, Byakuya fled the room, heading towards wherever the ultimate writing prodigy may be.
-
He knocked on Toko’s door slowly, counting the seconds as his heart pounded like never before.
It seemed like an eternity before Toko opened the door, damp hair and wrinkled clothes on. As she looked up to him, her face instantly flushed red.
‘M-m-master? W-w-what are you doing here.. I-.. C-c-come in..’
Toko opened the door shyly, revealing a room filled to the brim with boxes and novels, making her room smell like a bookshop.
The moment the door shut, Byakuya looked into Toko’s eyes and looked away, his cool demeanour slowly fading.
‘About earlier, I- I’m sorry. What I said was cruel and out of line. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.’ The softness of his voice took Toko aback, before she let out a small giggle.
‘Byakuya-sama, apologising to me. At my disposal. Is this a dream?’
Toko whispered airily, eyes lost in space.
Byakuya sighed disappointingly, thinking: Jesus, did she really not listen to anything I had to say?
He rubbed his temples absentmindedly, before a few sheets of paper came into view.
Toko’s eyes instantly widened.
‘Y-you read my s-s-story? M-m-master B-Byakuya read m-my story? W-what h-have I done to d-deserve this… h-how dare Byakuya-sama read the words of scum like me… .. Did you like it?’
Toko seemed rather happy for someone making a self-deprecating statement every 5 seconds, but Byakuya was too busy trying to think of a witty answer.
Yes, he did like it. Was he going to admit it? No, he wasn’t.
‘It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever read I suppose.’ Byakuya nonchalantly replied.
He sighed, before paraphrasing words from the bottom of his heart.
‘It could’ve been more.. historically accurate. But yes, to answer your question Toko, I did like it.’
As soon as these words escaped his mouth, a devilish grin instantly spread onto Toko’s face - almost making Byakuya think Genocide Jill had come out.
‘I knew it! No need to act all coy you know! Pretend all you want Master; push me away, d-degrade me. My white prince harbours secret tenderness for me deep inside! Ahahaha!’
God was she always this psycho?
A wave of defensiveness and slight despair
rose through him.
‘No I do not! I-ugh. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Goodnight.’
Byakuya hurried to the door, exiting it as fast as he possibly could whilst maniacal giggles echoed in the air.
As soon as the door shut, he leaned back onto Toko’s closed door and exhaled, trying desperately to ignore the heat of his body, the red flush on his cheeks and the annoyingly loud thumping in his chest that just wouldn’t go away.