Chapter Text
If there was one thing Yasuhiro Hagakure hated the most about his new job, it was the monotony of it all.
His former classmates would constantly joke or berate him about his old business endeavors for how ridiculous they thought they were, how there was a lack of class and honesty in his work (Byakuya had actually been the only one to say it out loud, but it wasn't like the others didn't agree with him). At least his old job was interesting, something he can't say about this Future Foundation stuff.
This kind of job was always meant for someone like Byakuya anyways. The kind of job in a lifeless gray building, with endless hallways and water coolers and meeting rooms. With men and women in the same black suits working at the same computer set ups in the same drab office cubicles. All drab, all the same, all endless, all lifeless. Things Yasuhiro would've never associated with trying to save the world from complete despair (or associated with himself, really).
There had always been an invisible wall between him and this type of world. One that he could walk up to and put his hands against but never cross. He knew these types of businessmen well, would grab drinks and rub shoulders with them, one hand on their arm and the other in their wallet. But he was never one of them. That was always the silent agreement during those meetings. He'd made peace with it and acted accordingly. Look presentable but not rich, speak with confidence but without integrity. Those types always wanted to know he was competent enough that they weren't wasting their money, but not competent enough to take control from them. Like his mere presence already seemed to intimidate them.
Now the wall was shattered, and he found himself on the other side of it. He'd consider it something grander if it wasn't all so… boring.
He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose for what had to be the umpteenth time that day while trying his damnedest to retain anything in the countless of emails he had received while off the clock, his mind feeling like static. He attempted to skim through the messages and file them away based on how urgent and important they were, but it was almost like he could feel the light pouring out of the monitor burning scars into his retinas. Endless streams of nonsensical words were being projected into his eyes and brain at a higher rate than he could ever process.
He always preferred networking and scheduling meetings in person over email. He could always make a game out of it in person. Getting the perfect read on a potential client always filled him with an intense gratification, one that only continued as he molded himself into what they wanted to see from him. Sure, his proposal was always the same, but it was the way he delivered it that shifted and adapted from person to person. There was a lot you could tell someone without words. The way you held yourself, the tone of your voice— even the way you furrowed your brows or held eye contact— was all it's own language, one that could completely change the meaning of the words coming out of your mouth. His mother taught him that, how to be fluent in that language.
But there were no games here, just words. He was never good at getting someone's attention with words alone, simply because words alone never worked on him.
Yasuhiro finally conceded and turned his monitor away with a huff, fully leaning back in his office chair with a force that sent it rolling back a few inches. He let out a groan and hunched forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. It was still morning and he already felt a headache coming on. He swears, the lifelessness of this job was getting to him. The more he looked at the gray walls of his office, the more he started to miss the warm lights and patterned wallpaper of his old room. If he looked at it longer, he started to miss the over-saturated, multi-colored walls at Hope's Peak…
He needed a break.
As if the universe answered his prayers, the door to his office opened. The sudden intrusion caused him to flinch and sit up from his previous resting position. He was about to yell something about knocking first, then he saw who decided to barge in. It all made sense then. There was exactly one person in all of the Future Foundation that believed himself to be above the simple act of knocking, for whatever reason he made up in his head.
"You look like a mess," Byakuya Togami said flatly. He stood tall at the doorway with one hand firmly grasped on the door knob, and the other holding a manila folder at his side. His suit was cleaned and pressed, showing off how well it fit him after he demanded that whatever they were able to provide him was still tailored. A far cry from Yasuhiro's own ill-fitted garments, with the sleeves of his jacket needing to be rolled up (when he actually decided to wear it properly) and the legs of his pants riding the slightest too high above his feet, leveling themselves with his ankles.
Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in sight, Byakuya closed the door and stood in Yasuhiro's domain like he was the one who owned it. It was just in the man's nature, moving and talking like the most superior man in the room, the way a legitimate royal would stand over his subjects. If one paid close attention, it was like he was begging for people to bow at his feet and kiss his newly shined shoes. Yasuhiro stayed firmly planted in his seat; sinking down in it, in fact.
"Cut me some slack, Toges! Can't a guy get a break from work every once in a while?" He glanced at the clock mounted over the door to see that it's only been 45 minutes since he first sat down. He resisted the urge to put his head in hands again. Byakuya only scoffed and rolled his eyes at the semi-sarcastic comment as he made his way further into the office, walking right up to the desk Yasuhiro was slouched at.
"The heck are you even doing here, anyways?" Yasuhiro asked as he turned back toward his monitor in search of a message from Byakuya informing him of his visit. The two were from completely different divisions after all. He wasn't surprised when he didn't spot any message of the sort. Byakuya was always the type to show up unannounced to things, like he was making sure they would always be ready for him at any given notice.
"Why don't you tell me?" Byakuya chided, "I thought you maybe sensed that I was coming over already." He finally took a seat at the chair opposite of Yasuhiro, like he finally got it through his head that the attempted intimidation that came from standing wasn't quite getting to the other man. "If you were the clairvoyant you claim to be, I figured you knew what we were going to be talking about. Thought I'd save myself the trouble and not notify you."
Yasuhiro shot him a flat stare, turning the monitor to face the wall for good. "I actually did see something about you this morning, if you wanted to know."
"You know, I don't like seeing you like that. Sat at a desk, suit and tie, glasses... It's unnatural. I'd almost call it a shallow attempt to copy me."
Yasuhiro was silent for a moment, "Did- Did you not want to-"
"Hell, you've barely decorated the place. Were you just dropped here a minute ago?"
"Well, I mean-"
"This is exactly what I'm talking about. The lighting is so sterile and cold. This place is so barren. None of it suits you, as sad as that might sound."
"Do you want to know what I saw or not, Togami?"
"Of course I don't!" Byakuya tended to flail his hands around when talking if he was frustrated, even anxious, Yasuhiro noticed. The manila folder wafted a small breeze toward Yasuhiro as it was flapped around in the air. "Can't I go one interaction with you without you trying to sell me something? Here I am going out of my way to make small talk with you, and you can't go on a second without trying to pawn off one of your lousy schemes to me. Let's just talk. Make conversation. That's what friends do, we're friends!" More air was pushed his way as Byakuya motioned between the two of them.
"I wasn't trying..." Yasuhiro trailed off as he started to think. Truth be told, he did just want to tell Byakuya what he saw for him that morning, and yes, Byakuya could normally care less what Yasuhiro had to say about his fortune telling. It was a whole song and dance the two had practiced so many times, it was practically memorized by them both. It didn't normally go like this.
First, Byakuya's idea of 'small talk' was kind of laughable. He could make some teasing comment about how people don't tend to open friendly conversations with critiques on their outfit and office layout, but he was too caught up on the fact that Byakuya was even trying to make small talk in the first place. Byakuya had called them friends.
"What's going on in that dull mind of yours?" Byakuya interjected, his fingers shifting where they held the folder. Yasuhiro only hummed before ignoring the statement altogether.
Second, Byakuya Togami didn't make small talk and he certainly didn't call anyone a friend of his. He believed himself to be above it all. The people around him weren't coworkers and surely not friends, but rather peons to do what he ordered them to.
That being, except for the five people left alive who have seen him as his lowest, at his most common. The ones who simply didn't follow his orders point-blank anymore because their relationship with him grew beyond that (Save for Toko, wherever she was). Yasuhiro couldn't remember the last time he did something for Byakuya because he simply intimated him into doing it. Half of it was because Yasuhiro just wasn't moved by that version of Byakuya anymore. The other half was because Byakuya had been slowly but surely working on other methods to get those closest to him to listen and obey him.
"I can practically hear the cogs turning in your head, Yasuhiro. Out with it, already!"
Third, Byakuya never really did visit this part of the Future Foundation to just visit Yasuhiro, did he?
"What's in the folder?"
Whatever Byakuya wanted to say next died on his lips as he instinctively brought said folder closer to his chest. Instead of answering right away, his eyes scanned Yasuhiro's face, like he was trying to gauge what exactly Yasuhiro was trying to get at. The other man only stared back, only feeling a little nervous about the potential response Byakuya was surely cooking up in his brain. Yasuhiro was the first to break eye contact, choosing instead to shift his gaze to the folder. It was pristine, not a scuff or crease to be seen with a label too small for him to read from a distance. There couldn't be more than ten sheets of paper inside.
Eventually, Byakuya put the folder down on the desk, sitting up straighter and letting out the slightest huff of air. "I need to talk to you about something," was what he finally said.
Yasuhiro shot a brief glace down at the object. "Towa City Captives." That's what the label said.
"What's this?" Yasuhiro asked. He opened the folder to find the top page had been filled with notes upon notes on Towa City, a remote, man-made island about an hour from where they were currently. He'd heard it brought up in passing. It was completely seized by the Remnants of Despair, Monokumas, and any other forces completely submissive to Junko Enoshima's ideology. There was nowhere to enter or escape on foot due to the one bridge connecting it to the mainland being completely overtaken by Monokumas and the like. The place sounded like a nightmare. One that Yasuhiro wanted to stay a hundred miles away from at any given moment.
"We've heard word that something very grave is going to take place in Towa very soon. Something involving children hunting down every adult in the city. They want to exterminate them; turn it into a 'children's paradise,' they said," Byakuya reached forward and slid the top paper to the side, displaying the ones under it. They contained different headshots of various men and women with small descriptions detailing each of them. Some couldn't have been older than 16, while others looked to be elderly. What threw him off was the headshot of a very fat looking cat and… was that a bug?
"While we'd like to save every individual in danger," Byakuya continued, "We know that's simply not possible if the threats are as dangerous as they seem. These people are our number one priority. They've been imprisoned in an apartment building on Towa for the past year and a half, and it sounds like these children are planning to partake in some sort of hunt targeting them specifically," he revealed the bottom page: a map with various lines, arrows and notes surrounding a carefully placed "x" near the center. "Now, the building is being highly guarded by Monokumas, but we've devised a plan that if done carefully, could-"
"Okay, that's enough of that!" Yasuhiro shooed Byakuya's hand away and quickly gathered all the papers before placing them back in the folder and closing it, leaving them much messier than when Byakuya had them. He looked back up at an almost stunned Byakuya, "This sounds like it should maybe be a group meeting topic. Should we call Makoto and 'Giri? I mean, they'd be much more equipped to know what to do here. Much more than me, at least. Hell, call Hina! I'm sure she'd want to hear this too."
"I already talked to Makoto and Kyoko, obviously. They signed off on this," Byakuya said before prying Yasuhiro's hands away from the folder and opening it back up, clearly about to continue what he was about to say before being interrupted. He didn't get a chance to before Yasuhiro grabbed his hands and used them to shut the folder once more, much more aggressively than his first attempt. Yasuhiro kept those hands trapped under his own, trying his best to look calm about the whole thing. He wasn't. In fact, he was sure he was hurting Byakuya a little with how hard he was pressing down.
"Don't start with me, Yasuhiro," Byakuya said quietly. Yasuhiro ignored him.
"Then what are we even doing here? You know you don't have to run all this by me. No one cares what I have to say about this! If Makoto and Kyoko said it's fine, then it's fine!"
"Yes, while I don't really care what your thoughts are on the plan, I still have to run them by you! It'd be stupid for me not to!'
"And why the hell is that?"
"Can't you take a hint?"
"Nuh-uh. Can't do that, mind's too dull. Why are you telling me this?"
"Oh, it's because you're going!"
Byakuya was finally able to get Yasuhiro's hands off of him, rubbing them and flexing his fingers. Freeing them wasn't so difficult after the shock Yasuhiro went into alleviated some of his weight.
"What?" was all Yasuhiro could say in the moment. It was very quiet, almost a whisper, like the air had been taken out of him completely.
Byakuya had looked back up at him after inspecting his hands for any bruises Yasuhiro may have left, "If it's any consolation, I'm going to be going with you."
Yasuhiro went silent again, the entire room did. It was silent for long enough to make Byakuya want to speak up again, to ask if the other man was okay.
"WHAT?!" Yasuhiro's voice cut through the silence, making Byakuya jump back like he'd been lunged at.
"Who gave you that bright idea?" he continued. "I can't do that! I do this!" he motioned towards his desk and computer, arms stiff and jittery, "I'm PR! I talk to people about business and shit! I don't save them from BURNING BUILDINGS! ARE YOU CRAZY?!" The idea of a monotonous office job all of the sudden looked like the most appealing thing in the world to Yasuhiro. It wasn't lifeless or boring. It was… cozy. So cozy.
Byakuya stood up straight again and attempted to flatten out his suit jacket with his hands. "Listen! I know this is all a little daunting," Yasuhiro let out a scoff at that, making Byakuya stop for a moment to shoot him a glare before continuing, "It's terrifying, but I need you to understand that lives are on the line here-"
"Lives are always on the line! We're in a damn war, Byakuya! Lives have been on the line! And you guys were able to go through it all without me. Why do you all the sudden feel the need to include me in this?"
Byakuya hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with a good enough answer. That hesitation gave Yasuhiro the perfect opportunity to spew more of the hundreds of thoughts swirling in his head.
"Exactly! Look at these people," he picked out one of the papers of headshots at random, giving it a once over. One of the photos was of a teenage girl, a blonde with a face covered in an exorbitant amount of foundation and blush. She looked scared. "They deserve a competent team saving them. One that doesn't need me. I'm sure there are dozens of other people in the building more suited for the job, so go find one of them."
"I can't," Byakuya's voice was quieter than Yasuhiro had heard it in a long time. The blonde was avoiding eye contact, staring down at the papers now scattered across the desk instead. "I can't do that because I was the one who suggested you by name during these meetings. You were the one Kyoko and Makoto signed off on."
"Good to know I was the last one to be told this."
"Can you please just listen to me?" Byakuya sounded defeated, emotional in a way Yasuhiro had never seen him before. He was desperate. "This is a rescue mission. The people we're rescuing have been trapped for over a year, without any knowledge on what happened to the outside world. They're going to be scared, depressed, traumatized, all of it. They need someone to talk to, to listen to them. They need comfort. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner, but I knew you would be able to provide that, they same way you did back in Hope's Peak. Sure, you might've not been the most helpful during investigations or class trials," Yasuhiro knew that better than anyone, what with how many times his classmates shared those exact thoughts with him, "but what you had was a good shoulder to lean on. It provided support and comfort. I need that shoulder again, because the world knows I can't provide it."
Yasuhiro waited for Byakuya to say anything else, something more. Something that would make all the pieces click. While he appreciated the sentiment, all he could do is think back to the killing game. The people they lost. What "good" he did to help them.
"Yeah, well, look at where that got people…" was all he said, quietly. Byakuya didn't need to be told of the very specific case Yasuhiro was thinking about. The one Yasuhiro felt the most guilt about. He looked down at another specific headshot on the desk.
"By the way," Byakuya began, electing to not acknowledge Yasuhiro's previous statement. He pointed to one of the photos, a teenage girl, different from the blonde Yasuhiro looked at earlier. "This is Komaru Naegi. She's sixteen years old. Makoto said she was always very energetic and a really bad liar."
Yasuhiro was taken aback, both by the description of the girl and the fact that Byakuya was still talking to him. He took a closer look at the picture, noticing just how much she looked like Makoto. Same hazel eyes, same round face, same smile.
"She's…"
"Makoto's younger sister? Yes, she is," Byakuya finished for him before pointing to another headshot, one of an old man, "Fuhito Kirigiri, famed detective and Kyoko's grandfather."
He pointed to another. A teenage boy with tanned skin and blue eyes, "Yuta-"
"Asahina?" Yasuhiro interrupted, stomach heavy and throat dry, "Aoi's brother?"
"Younger brother, yes," Byakuya answered. He stopped pointing and started to straighten out all of the papers, displaying them in a way that Yasuhiro could see them all.
"What are you doing?" Yasuhiro asked.
"Using one of my final tactics to get you to agree to this," Byakuya said before shifting focus, "We aren't exactly sure what the motivations are for trapping them, but we've concluded that most, if not all, of these captives hold some relation to each of the students in the 78th class of Hope's Peak, whether it be family, friends, or pets. While we want to save them to provide them refuge, we also know that some of these people hold some of the only memories left of our fallen classmates. We want to preserve those, keep those memories alive. The best way to do that is to ensure their safety as soon as possible."
Yasuhiro gave each photo another glance, now noticing all the ways each of them reminded him of a different classmate of his. He saw Chihiro's sad eyes, Hifumi's pudgy face and hamster mouth, Leon's sharp nose, Kiyotaka's…
He looked up at Byakuya again and felt dizzy. He didn't know if he wanted to sit down or run out of the room.
"I'm sorry," he said after a beat, "I'm sorry but I can't. I just…" he hung his head down in shame, not wanting to look at Byakuya or the people in the photos. He's disappointing them all, he couldn't stand to see the way they looked at him.
He heard Byakuya let out an exhale before gathering up the papers once and for all and placing them in the manila folder.
"Well, I guess I can't argue with you anymore if your mind's been made up. I'll have to go talk to the others, see if we can come up with anything else." He was about to start walking back toward to door, before turning back to face the other man once again. His head was still hung low. In fact, it looked as though his entire body collapsed, all weighing down on his chair with his head rested in the crook of his folded elbows. It was a pitiful sight, he was sure. "It was good to see you, Yasuhiro. I know I don't say that a lot. I hope that the next time we see each other, it's less stressful for you. Maybe we could go out for lunch sometime. I hope I'll be better at small talk by then."
It was silent once more, Yasuhiro didn't even hear the sound of footsteps, figuring that Byakuya was waiting for any kind of response from him before leaving. As he was lifting his head to say something, he saw Byakuya digging for something in his inner coat pocket. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper and held it out towards him.
"I'm sorry. You're not the only stubborn one here. Take this and reconsider. At least do me that one thing."
Yasuhiro stared at the paper for a moment before slowly taking it, "What is this?"
"My final tactic," was all Byakuya said before turning to make his leave. "Don't open it until I leave. I'm wondering if you just can't stand looking at me, and that's why you won't take me up on this."
All Yasuhiro could do was watch as Byakuya opened the door. His suit jacket had the slightest amount of wrinkles, surely from their small tussle earlier. He turned to face him once more before closing the door.
"You have two days to call me if you change your mind. Don't tell anyone about this conversation. I still have reputation to uphold, and I don't need you dragging it down with you." The door shut, and he was gone.
Yasuhiro listened for the sound of footsteps walking away. He looked around and his office looked clean again, gray and empty, like Byakuya never visited. He would've started thinking that the interaction was all in his head if he wasn't holding the one piece of evidence that it hadn't.
Yasuhiro saw a vision of Byakuya crying that morning. He didn't know why, but the man was in tears, not weeping, but clearly sad.
He was an asshole. And a coward.
That was all he could think as he turned the folded sheet of paper over in his hands. All that was written on the outside was his own name in Byakuya's messy handwriting. He wondered if Byakuya would've never given it to him if he agreed to his proposal right away.
He unfolded the paper, and the world stood still.
He felt as though he had died. Like his heart stopped beating and the air completely left his lungs. The only parts of his body left functioning were his fingers to grip on the sheet of paper tighter and tighter, and his eyes to stare.
Byakuya must've thought that if guilt didn't work, then blackmail surely would've.
It was another headshot, like all the ones he saw prior, but the face staring back at him was what made him stop. What killed him.
There she was, looking no different than when he last saw her, whether it be in person two years ago, or during the killing game as a recording.
Hiroko Hagakure
His mother.