Chapter Text
The image of blonde hair flashed beneath Kyoko’s eyelids just before she jerked awake.
“Kirigiri!” Makoto was standing over her. “I’m sorry...I was just trying to wake you up, not startle you...”
“It’s fine.” Kyoko blinked the sleep from her eyes, careful not to strain her injured one. The hotel room that served as her makeshift hospital room appeared almost comically luxurious. Morning light flooded in from the large bay windows. Created to cater to the visiting dignitaries, high-status media personalities, and wealthy family members that had frequently buzzed around Hope’s Peak Academy, the posh hotel had remained shockingly unscathed in the wake of The Tragedy. Everything in the immediate area around the school had been utterly decimated, but somehow, only ten blocks away, Harmony Plaza appeared almost unchanged.
It had seemed impossible, at first, until the one took stock of what small damages did exist within the Plaza. A chandelier was shattered on the floor in the main entryway, but none of the debris was beneath the socket in the ceiling. Instead, shards of glass were splattered all across the whole of the room, at an angle. Scuff marks on the handrail of the grand staircase. Someone had swung on the chandelier, and sent it crashing to the ground.
The handful of Polaroids found in the dining room captured no people, but chronicled the beheading of a swan carved from ice, and its subsequent transformation into a phallus.
A second swan had been chiseled into a Monokuma.
The general consensus was that Enoshima Junko had decided to end the world from a penthouse.
Now in the custody of the Future Foundation, the survivors of the first mutual killing game preferred to occupy Harmony Plaza's ground floor lodgings, but Kyoko’s summer bedclothes were still made of such ridiculously lush material that she felt she might as well have woken up under a pile of whipped cream.
She didn’t know what Makoto was doing here. She glanced at the clock.
“Nobody’s here yet,” Makoto hurried to say. “I just wanted to make sure you were up. Y’know. In case you changed your mind?”
The irony of forgetting to lock her door to keep out Naegi Makoto was not lost on her.
Kyoko pulled the fluffy bed linen over her face.
Makoto’s little sigh was still audible through the high thread count. “Okay.” She could hear a patient smile in his voice. “I was just checking.”
The comforter and her injured eye did not prevent her from discerning his shape was headed toward the door. Kyoko pulled the covers back down.
“Naegi?”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“Have you checked on Asahina today?”
Makoto looked sheepish. “No. I...wasn’t sure she’d wanna see me. I mean, Komaru was the one who was with--”
“Yeah.” Kyoko swung her hips over the side of the bed. “Probably the right call.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” Makoto took a step towards her. “What are you doing?”
Ignoring the way both of her knees popped as she straightened, Kyoko stood up. “Obviously, I’m going to check on Aoi.”
“You can’t!”
Impatiently, she reminded him that “I’m not on bedrest, Nagei. This isn’t something worth worrying about--”
“You almost died, Kyoko!”
She blinked. It was the first time he had ever called her “Kyoko.”
Tears were glistening in Naegi’s eyes. “Anyway, Togami’s got it,” he went on, as if she wouldn't notice him roughly wiping his face with his sleeve if he just went on talking. “I had Togami put it in his calendar ages ago to make sure we had donuts for today. I think he got mixed up about what I meant by a dozen, though-- there’s twelve boxes, at least, and they’re all stacked up in the hallway outside her door-- they all look really fancy--”
“Makoto.” Testing the name carefully on her tongue, she made sure her voice was gentle. “It’s okay to be angry with me.”
Still pawing at his eyes, Makoto sniffled. “D-don’t be stupid,” he said, and gave a watery laugh. As if the idea of her being stupid was as absurd as an ice swan re-carved into genitalia. “I’m not angry with you! How could I be angry with you?! How could I be angry with anyone? You’re alive! My sister’s alive! I get to see her again! Today! In person! I’m happy!”
“Makoto…” it felt like she’d been saying it like this-- like she could use the word to ease him into truthfulness-- for forever.
His expression solidified into resolve. “Just, please. Take care of yourself, okay?”
Restraining herself from a sigh, Kyoko nodded. “Okay.”
It wasn’t a day for picking fights, or adding on new feelings to parse. The captives of the first mutual killing game were finally returning from Towa City.
Makoto had hurried out as soon as Kyoko had agreed not to strain herself. No doubt, he had a lot of preparation to do before everyone's loved ones arrived today.
Well...almost everyone's loved ones.
Kyoko allowed herself to sigh now. If she wanted to get dressed, she’d need help. For help, she could call on Aoi, or one of the servants that Togami had very unnecessarily hired to see to her needs. Neither option sounded appealing at the moment. If she tried to change herself, her shaky hands and sore joints would inevitably betray her somewhere, and it would get back to Naegi. That would lead to them having another fight-without-fighting...and just when he ought to be enjoying his reunion with his little sister.
Overly-embroidered, sapphire-blue nightgown it was, then.
Slowly, but without the limp that had plagued her the first few weeks since Tengan’s killing game ended, Kyoko made her way to the hotel dining area. Togami was at his usual corner table, near a row of windows. This no doubt created a harsh glare on the laptop screen he was perched over, but she could understand not caring about that. She always preferred being able to see an exit, too.
“Good morning,” she said.
He glanced up, and automatically stood to pull out a chair for her. With anyone else, she would have protested, but she knew with Togami that it was just what high society had trained him to do. Kyoko made sure to pull up the small train at the end of her silk slip and puddle it into her lap before it could get caught under a chair leg. “Why did you buy me this?” she muttered, struggling to find a way to drape it comfortably beneath the table.
Byakuya made a sour face. “I know, it looks practically off the rack. I assure you, I pulled all my investments with the couturier as soon as I saw the finished product. However, with shipping delays still rampant from the Tragedy, we won’t have access to anything else until the French custom pieces finally arrive-- and you need something to convalesce in.”
Kyoko just looked at him. Her energy was not adequate enough to bring up the many fallacies in that logic. Moreover, she suspected that to some extent he knew it was illogical, and that his exuberant purchases were a reflection of his unspoken guilt for not arriving at Munakata’s island in time to save her from being poisoned.
Whether Togami could read her deduction in her face, Kyoko could not discern, but he scowled at her as she stared. Then he pushed the coffee pot in the middle of the table toward her.
“Thanks.” She poured carefully. Time for a change of subject. “Naegi says you made sure Aoi had breakfast?”
Togami nodded, turning his attention back toward his laptop once she had taken a sip. “I checked Hope’s Peak’s medical records to make certain there were no food allergies to contend with before I placed the order. When I left the food, I could clearly hear the sounds of jogging in place from inside her room. I didn’t knock.”
Good. At least Hina was keeping her routine. And Togami had known better than to attempt to be nice to someone before ten o’clock in the morning.
“By the by: what circumstances led you to having a conversation with Naegi, well before either of you are usually awake?”
Kyoko rolled her eyes. “His sister is arriving today.”
“All the more reason to make haste, don't you think?”
Again, Togami’s face was unreadable, which Kyoko didn’t care for at all. It made her worry her impaired depth perception was interfering with her ability to perceive in general. ‘’I only saw him a half hour ago.” She swallowed, and then added: “He did call me Kyoko.”
Togami not only looked up from his screen, but closed it. "That is certainly new information. Perhaps our little cockroach is on the road to self-recognition after all.”
Only Byakuya would use ‘cockroach’ as a pet name.
"Maybe,” she admitted. Glancing down into her cup, she could feel a blush creep into her cheeks.
Togami leaned back in his chair, looking more smug than usual. "I told you he'd realize he likes you first," he said, petulant.
Taking care to sip her drink slowly, Kyoko said nothing. Like most of Togami's inferences, this deduction was hastily made, but not without merit. Makoto, bless him, had always required a substantial amount of time to both recognize context clues and assemble them into a coherent narrative. All of these years, and even Kyoko was uncertain whether or not Makoto had ever realized Byakuya was attracted to men. The topic was never discussed openly, primarily because of Toko and Syo. With that unclear, whether or not Makoto realized that Togami liked him specifically was all the more ambiguous. Kyoko had always been of the opinion that once Makoto came to question it, however, he would realize that he himself liked Togami back with relative ease.
Byakuya, however, always argued that because societal norms made it much more likely that Naegi would realize he was attracted to Kirigiri first, and that therefore, Makoto would assume he couldn’t be attracted to Togami, even if the idea occurred.
"Attracted" was always the word Togami used. Words like "love", she suspected, made Byakuya as skittish as the insect to which he often compared Makoto.
Kyoko had only recognized Byakuya’s attraction to her in the immediate aftermath of Tengan's killing game. Which was saying something, since they had made out several times during the Neoworld debacle. That had only been a distraction, though, as well as-- they both admitted, in a very stilted, awkward conversation afterwards-- a form of self-harm. Togami and Kirigiri were alike in many ways. Including, it turned out, that they were both extremely confident in their desire for their same gender, and very ambivalent about their interest in varied ones.
Byakuya, though-- Kirigiri could remember very little about when she first woke up from her coma, but anterograde amnesia was no match for the expression on Byakuya’s face that day.
Makoto had brought her to the medic tent. The other survivors had already seen her, and most of their exhilarated exclamations were out. Togami, however, had been listening to status reports on the other side of the island, and hadn't been informed of her condition before he headed back towards base camp.
She had seen his eyes fall on her. He stopped the way Americans do while driving: so quickly, it wasn't really clear whether he had ever stopped moving. Then, in a blink, he was running. It was just like that. One moment, he was all the way across base. The next, her entire field of vision was just his face.
Blue eyes wide, and more analytical than ever, he scanned every inch of her for a site of lasting harm, or a sign she might disappear. He whispered her name as he gently-- so gently, she remembered marveling in a daze-- placed the tips of his fingers on her chin, tilting her head slightly, checking over every angle.
He’s so pale, she had thought, confused, concerned. She breathed his name. Immediately, he moved his palms to her cheeks-- not cupping them, more like trying to steady himself by touching more of her. Without taking his eyes off her for a second, he addressed someone over his shoulder-- a shaky version of his usual bark, demanding an explanation.
Kyoko didn't remember who answered, or what they said. They must have mentioned her examination of Yoi in addition to her experimental ingestion of Seiko's antidote, because what she remembered most was the feeling of Togami's fingers stirring to cup her face properly. Closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against her own. "That's my little corpse-kisser," he whispered, voice fierce with pride, the statement concluding with a noise that could have been a chuckle or soft sob. Kyoko couldn't tell. She had closed her eyes, and had let herself rest her weight against him. She could not remember the last time someone had let her do that. Arms enveloped her, and warmth.
So if Togami felt like buying her impractically extravagant nightgowns, fine. He loved her, even if he didn't know how.
Well, neither of them really knew how to love anyone, in terms of methodology. That day convinced Kirigiri that Togami was capable of feeling an intimate tenderness towards her. Kyoko herself knew that was so starved to have such feelings directed towards her that she couldn’t be certain whether she reciprocated.
This was irksome, but largely semantic. Togami didn't care either way. His attraction to Makoto couldn't somehow replace everything she was, but because Togami's feelings towards him were much more conventional, Kirigiri suspected Byakuya found them much more consuming, and thus, more pressing. Besides, Byakuya was so secure in whatever their relationship was, that he had already asked her to consider helping him establish a new Togami family precedent for matrimonial conduct.
("Did you just...propose to me?"
"Of course not," Togami scoffed. "I would never propose in such a churlish manner. I am making an initial offer to open up negotiations for a potential future marriage. That's all.”)
So, she wasn't too worried about making Togami feel emotionally neglected.
(Not having to worry about that was, if Kyoko was honest with herself, a large part of what she found appealing about Byakuya.)
Now, she asked: "Are you planning on making 'some grand declaration' with the arrival of your butler looming?"
Togami made a face. "I'm more worried about Fukawa making grand declarations."
"Oh?"
"You know how she is,” he said, rolling his eyes. “ I'm sure she won't hesitate to run her mouth the entire ship ride over."
Kyoko weighed whether to tease him for thinking Pennyworth would believe anything Toko said, or to tease him for caring what the people whom he called 'inferiors' thought. Both options, as quickly as they occurred to her, suddenly tasted cold and cruel. She knew they wouldn't, normally, but shuddered a little regardless. She swallowed more hot coffee, then exhaled.
"Are you tired?" Togami asked. He leaned forward, peering at her over his spectacles.
"No," Kyoko lied. She pushed her coffee cup back towards the center of the table. "Anyway, didn't you tell me something forming between Fukawa and Naegi's sister? That was months ago. Surely, more must have come of it since then. At least, enough that it's less of a problem for you, now."
"It's Fukawa and Naegi's sister.” Togami looked as if he had bitten into a lemon rind. "Between the two of them, I'd be surprised if they had enough brain power to figure out how to use a can opener by now."
"Hmm." Kyoko kept her response non-committal, because in truth, she was already trying to think of a way to get back to bed without losing face. She'd been so worried about Aoi self-isolating, Kyoko hadn't realized til now that she actually wanted to do the same.
More coffee would only make her appear more tired. Resigned, Kirigiri mentioned miso soup, and Togami got up to fetch it for her. Once he returned, he opened his laptop back up so she could focus on the food, so at least there was no pressure of making conversation. While she sipped unenthusiastically, he rattled off Future Foundation activities she wanted to be apprised of while on medical leave. Mahiru had leaked a handful of fake reunion photos the previous day, complete with tropical foliage in the background, so that any reporters seeking to interrupt their privacy would assume they’d missed the main event, and think the aftermath was at a completely different location. Novoselic had still not made a statement on the status of Princess Sonia Nevermind, but multiple spies had informed him that many influential, unofficial channels were willing to use all their available resources towards supporting and supplying Jabberwock Island. The Society for Animal Lovers of Towa City had agreed to a substantial stipend towards the Future Foundation in exchange for the use of Grand Bois Chéri Ludenberg's image as their official mascot.
“Do we have a litter box?” Kyoko asked, suddenly.
Both of Togami’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll be sure to procure one of the empty donut boxes outside Asahina's room,” he muttered after a moment’s pause, ducking his head to set a reminder inside his palm pilot. “There are still a number of old magazines in the game room; shredding those ought to suffice as lining, for now.”
He’ll like something from the game room, Kyoko thought with a little pang.
It took what felt like an eternity to finish her miso, but she managed it. She asked Togami to return her bowl to the kitchen for her, then got up before he could see she was standing on her own. Getting the hang of everyday chores-- at least, getting the hang of completing everyday chores to his own, meticulous standards-- was still something Byakuya struggled with, and so, she was able to clear the room before he got back.
She made it back to her suite. Slowly. But under her own steam.
As soon as she'd slipped beneath the sheets again, though, any urge to sleep died a quiet death. Hurumphing, Kirigiri stared at the ceiling. She turned on her side. Finally, she went ahead and pulled the covers up over her head. For some reason, that did make her feel better.
She was half-dozing by the time she heard Makoto's overjoyed laugh ring out in harmony with what must have been Komaru's. Kyoko smiled to herself. She heard what sounded like happy blubbering mixed with yelling from Hiro. More yelling, from Toko-- both in her "Master" tone, and her normal one. That boded well. Byakuya himself Kyoko couldn't hear anything from, but that was to be expected. She had pictured a much quieter reunion for him.
Something about the anticipation of the event finally breaking into the present took the anxiety out of it for Kyoko. Once all the voices she'd expected to hear were accounted for, she had no trouble letting go of whatever had been holding her muscles taunt, and was finally able to collapse into a dreamless sleep.
It was Makoto who woke her up again.
It was later; early evening, maybe late afternoon, if it had gotten cloudy out. Kyoko hadn't thought to close the curtains before she had fallen asleep. Shadows were on Makoto's face, at any rate. His expression was a shadow, too: nervous, concerned, sorrowful.
She'd been right. To hell with the perils of drawing conclusions based on circumstantial evidence. She could tell, just from the look on his face.
"Hey," Makoto said, tentatively.
Kyoko couldn't bear to have him look at her like that. The way everyone had looked at her, when they found out that man had left her after her mother died.
The image of blonde hair flashed behind her eyes again.
Enough. Kyoko took a deep breath. "Hey," she said. That was all she said. Let someone else have to try and explain, for once.
Makoto looked at her, helplessly.
It was a look she'd seen him wear many times, but anger lapped at the sides of her stomach like acid at him having to make it now. How dare he be forced to feel that, after everything he’d been through? His little sister was probably waiting just outside the door! He shouldn't have to interrupt his own reward for the extent of his hope. Not to deal with this.
But he would deal with it, because he was Naegi Makoto, and that's just what he did. Always.
Kyoko blinked frantically.
Finally, Makoto broke the silence by sighing, "You were right."
For someone frequently accused of being a know-it-all, Kyoko always felt so tired whenever anyone had to tell her that.
"Komaru says he told her to give you this," Makoto said.
Kyoko’s eyes widened as Makoto handed her a letter. It was a sealed, black envelope.
The detective in her scanned over all the possible meanings and symbolism behind that. Then, she discarded them all as irrelevant. How much of that was her detective nature, she couldn't be sure. But it felt good.
She broke the seal.
Dearest Kyoko-chan,
While I still don't understand your decision not to have me in your life, I will continue to abide by your wishes. I trust your pride in being a detective has not atrophied to a point where you are unable to locate or contact me, should you feel compelled to do so. As always, I remain open and eager for proper reconciliation.
Grandfather
Air. That was all Kyoko actually had to think about. Inhale, exhale. Her body felt like it had when she’d first returned from the Neo-World Program: fine, and also, like a tight cluster of static electricity was sparking against her cells.
She couldn't fucking think about Makoto's face yet. Instead, she read the letter again, looking for things that she'd have to try and explain to him. It occurred to Kyoko, before she could even focus enough to start rereading, that Grandfather had said nothing about Jin. No mention of any inheritance. No indication he knew he was dead--did he know ?-- but of course he did, he had to; the survivors were famous symbols by now, and he was Grandfather . No condolence-- God, that it took her this long to even think of that! Grandfather had no way of knowing what her relationship to Jin was, how it might have changed in the year and a half since she had first entered Hope's Peak. There was nothing for him to detect about what the state of their relationship had been. There was no acknowledgement of-- of anything .
"Kyoko?"
She was glad he hadn't said "Kirigiri."
Wordlessly, she held the note back up to him.
He took it, but looked down at her again for confirmation it was okay to read. Something fluttered inside her, because he did that. She nodded.
Naegi looked down. Immediately, his eyes widened. In reaction to the length of the letter, Kyoko guessed. Or maybe not.
It was strange; she was good at stoicism, but it was a habit. Her emotions were something she tried her best to regulate, not something that she lacked. People called her cold, sometimes, but even cold was an emotion. She recognized when she felt cold towards someone. She didn't recognize what this feeling was. The closest to it that she'd experienced was shock, but that was strange-- she hadn't expected anything else.
Numb, maybe. Yes-- that was the word.
"What," Makoto said slowly, "the fuck."
Kyoko stared up at him. She wasn't sure if she'd ever heard Makoto use that word.
“What... the fuck! “ he repeated, gathering steam. He looked steamed, waving the letter in the air. “What is this? I mean-- It’s been-- I don’t even know how many years, and he-- that’s all he has to say?! ”
Kirigiri was stunned. She’d been expecting questions, yes, but about what Grandfather meant, about what she’d done wrong. Not...whatever this was.
Makoto wasn’t even waiting for an answer. “Unbelievable,” he fumed, beginning to pace. “This is absolutely unbelievable!”
She’d noticed before that he had a habit of repeating himself when he was particularly upset.
Utterly bewildered, Kyoko found herself struggling to explain, desperate to explain, to quell the panic rapidly rising inside herself. “I mean, I told you.” It felt like little pins were sticking inside her throat: “When I let myself be scouted by Hope’s Peak, I violated our family pride. I violated his pride. For someone who abandoned me. Someone who didn’t even want to be a detective. From his perspective, it’s--”
“Stop it!” Makoto shouted; she jumped a little, not from fear, but surprise . “None of that even matters! You almost died! People did die! Your friends died, right in front of you! And he knows that! He should be worried about you!”
"He knows I can take care of myself!"
The words froze Makoto. Slowly, he turned around to look at Kyoko. to look back at Kyoko. The wide-eyed expression on his face shifted-- something clicked into place. Something that made Kyoko want to bolt out of her bed and run, just to avoid whatever he was about to say. There was horror flashing across his eyes, as he sucked in a breath.
But then he closed his eyes, and exhaled. He waited a moment, apparently gathering something within himself, and then approached the bed.
“Kyoko,” he said, gently. There wasn’t pity in it. He crouched beside her, on his knees, elbows on her mattress. “I know you think you should be able to take care of yourself. I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve proven that to me, over and over again, okay? You’ve shown the whole world that.”
His voice was low, and calm, but there was an urgency that thrummed behind it, more urgent even than when he had been angry. And his eyes-- they were wide, still, but they did not avoid hers. He held her gaze. He saw her, and he wanted her to see him, so much his eyes had brightened with intensity-- and maybe, she noticed, swallowing a lump in her throat-- something else.
“But please, please,” Makoto said, taking her gloved hand, “you’ve gotta understand. Worrying about someone...it doesn’t mean you don’t believe in them, okay? It has nothing to do with that. Worrying about someone just means...that they have hope you’ll be alright. And they’d feel-- not despair-- but they wanna share your pain, if you’re not alright. Worrying about someone...it means they care about you.”
Kyoko wasn’t sure when she had started crying. The water hadn’t fallen yet. She didn't trust herself to speak.
Makoto hadn’t flinched, hadn’t looked away from her in the silence. When she realized he was waiting for her to say something, she also realized what she was guarding, and gave it up:
“I know that.”
The admission cracked open her chest like a dam breaking. The water fell. Her lungs gasped against the force of sobs she had been holding in since the first time she’d left for Hope’s Peak, since she was 13, since was 7 years old. She’d known then, too. Most of the time, she’d always known.
Makoto knew to climb in bed beside her. And, more importantly, he did it. She clung to his chest as she heaved out all the wretched noise built up inside her. A hurricane screamed out of her, and she clung to one small life preserver-- her Ultimate Hope.