Chapter Text
Kyoko Kirigiri prided herself on having a larger purpose to everything she did.
In her work as a detective, this purpose was rather simple and straightforward: uncover the truth. If someone attempted to interfere with or question her actions, she could easily turn their inquiries into compliance with her strong sense of logical reasoning. That wasn’t to say, however, that she was always so logical in her motives. No, she could be quite petty.
For example, there was her reason for applying to Hope’s Peak Academy in the first place. The Kirigiri detectives had always kept their presence under the radar as a matter of pride, of honor. And yet, she had allowed that long-standing tradition to dissipate because of her desire to permanently sever ties with her father.
In that instance her sense of duty and self-respect as a detective was cast aside in favor of pursuing her individual goals. Now, that memory served as a pointed reminder that she was just as helpless to the selfish whims of the heart as anyone else. And despite her best efforts, Kyoko was falling victim to them once again.
The steady hum of her standard-issue flip phone might have been missed had she not already drained the third of a series of coffee mugs down to its last dregs. Rifling through the myriad of files and manilla folders that had been strewn about her comforter, she followed the vibration to its point of origin.
She flipped it over to get a look at the caller ID flashing on the mini-display. Like the other Branch Heads of the Future Foundation, Kyoko’s number was only available to a very limited number of individuals; however, only one of these contacts was in the habit of exchanging greetings past what might be called reasonable work hours.
Kyoko raised the phone to her ear, a light smile tugging at her lips despite her exhaustion. “Hello Naegi.”
In seconds she was out the door. The implications of the first responder’s words echoing in her mind like the thud of a trash compactor growing larger and larger down the expanse of a conveyor belt.
Makoto Naegi has been attacked. Makoto Naegi has been injured. Makoto Naegi has listed her as his emergency contact.
Kyoko hadn’t had time to change, but if the members of the security team thought anything about her lavender, silk dressing gown, they kept it to themselves. Most were just grateful to have a person of higher authority present. Visible relief filled their features as they stepped aside to let her through. Naegi’s apartment door was thrown open, its doorknob hanging by a single screw in a way that was at once nostalgic and nauseating. She began to run.
Naegi was seated on his couch having his injuries given a final once over by a Future Foundation physician when Kyoko burst into the room. He looked up at her with wide eyes but said nothing, clearly as shocked by her appearance as she was by his.
The medic, now satisfied with the quality of their handiwork and anxious to get away from what was sure to be a private matter, announced their need to go file an official report and swiftly vacated the premises.
Wordlessly, and with far less grace than she would care to admit, Kyoko joined him on the sofa and gathered his face in her gloved hands.
“Kiri? What are you-”
She turned his head carefully from side to side, taking in the light abrasions and discoloration that now decorated the left side of his face, (likely from being slammed down and held against a hard surface). It was hard to reconcile that so much could’ve happened in the few hours since she’d last seen him. Kyoko shuddered to think what would’ve happened had the culprit not been apprehended in time.
Two hands reached up and covered her own, lowering them from his face and holding them in front of his chest.“You’re shaking,” Naegi said with such genuine concern that one might think their situations were reversed. That she was the one who had narrowly escaped death and he the loyal companion needed to comfort her.
Embarrassed by her selfish show of weakness, Kyoko opened her mouth to admonish him for worrying about anyone except himself at a time like this, but the words died in her throat as sudden pain filled Naegi’s hazel eyes and she noticed the black wrist splint on his arm.
For the second time that night, her phone rang.
Kyoko was not fond of Togami’s office. It was not the carefully curated art pieces that hung on the wall nor any other signifiers of wealth that struck an unpleasant chord with her, it was what the location itself seemed to impose: a power shift.
Outside of work, and at their weekly Friday breakfast, (a tradition that Hina and Naegi had somehow managed to convince all of the Hope’s Peak Survivors plus Komaru to take part in) Togami was easy enough to deal with. Their relationship was one born from necessity. The options then had been simple in their vulgarity; learn how to work together as equals or allow your ego to condemn the collective whole. It had taken some time and far too much sacrifice, but eventually Togami had come to the correct decision. Now though, Kyoko wondered if she wasn’t the only one falling back into bad habits.
Here in his own domain, Togami assumed an air of authority and control that Kyoko loathed adhering to: even if he was technically her boss. It was clear from the way that he had ushered them into the low-backed visitor chairs how this was going to pan out. He would sit behind his desk, pretend to consider her suggestions, then issue his irrefutable command. This meeting, however, was not a matter of case assignments and necessary protocol. It was about someone very dear to them, and Kyoko would not admit defeat so easily.
“I think Naegi should move in with me.”
Byakuya shot her an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? We’ve already established that his current residence can no longer be considered safe, given how many times it has been broken into by Enoshima’s fanatics.” She cut a quick glance over to Naegi, his own gaze passing apprehensively between Togami and herself. His right arm was cradled lightly against his chest, thankfully unbroken but still suffering a mild sprain from being forcibly twisted and pinned down. “You were the one that suggested that Naegi get a roommate, am I to understand that I have been excluded from the running?"
Byakuya sighed at the oh-so familiar inflections of her voice. It was far too reminiscent of their class trial days. When she possessed an almost perpetual advantage over the rest of them. There was no point in fighting. Kirigiri was certain to get what she wanted.
“I suppose not…having him stay with one of us might be more reassuring to him than having him stay with a member of my security team…” He muttered more to himself than to anyone else. “Ultimately though, the decision rests with Naegi.”
With that, their attention shifted back towards the focal point of the ordeal. Naegi was in the middle of resurfacing from a state of deep contemplation.
The sight that was a common one for all the Hope’s Peak survivors, and a rather endearing one at that, Kyoko mused.
“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Naegi said, glancing briefly at Togami before centering his gaze on her. “I’d like to move in with Kiri.”
Togami pinched the bridge of his nose, but conceded nonetheless, adding in some terse remarks about absent policies and making sure that everything would be dealt with before their next shift. It wasn’t until Naegi was well out of earshot that Kyoko heard his true feelings break through.
“Be sure that Naegi actually utilizes the time we set aside for him to heal. I’m sure I can trust you with this much, at least ”
Kyoko merely inclined her head in recognition, before setting off after Naegi.