Chapter Text
You’ve never been one to lose. That’s how most people would describe you. Not kind, not funny, nothing in between. Play any game till its end, and come out victorious. Maybe that’s why when a letter addressed from Hope’s Peak sits in your mailbox, you’re awfully confused. The cursive is pristine, signed by a Mr. Jin Kirigiri. You trace your fingers over the words, wondering how your name got in their books.
We’re pleased to welcome you a spot amongst the 78th Class of Hope’s Peak Academy.
When you see your title, you laugh. You laugh and pack a bag. This is too interesting to pass up, and a game is no good without a bit of unknown.
You didn’t know what you were getting into.
—
You wake up suddenly, tumbling through your mind. For a moment, you are weightless, then gravity's sudden pull thrusts your body back into reality. The headache that your slumbering mind had been able to ignore now comes to life, full force and ugly. You wince and try to make sense of your surroundings.
It’s a classroom. You’re sitting in a classroom, but weren’t you just walking into Hope’s Peak? You collapsed, and now you’re here. A step had to be skipped in between. You attempt to get to your feet, but everything feels a little odd. Like your body has been stretched, making you different from before. It’s a little sickening, and for a second, you lose your footing, but you stand up soon enough.
You stumble through the hallways, wondering if this really is the Hope’s Peak. Windows boarded up and empty hallways, you wonder. That is, until you find the foyer where the rest of your class is, and it’s full of life.
There are fifteen of them; you count up fast. A boy in all white, looking wound up a little too tight, shouts when you enter. “You’re late!”
You smirk, eyes running across all of their forms. Part of you wishes you had researched the bunch, but the other part is glad you didn't. A little fun in this mystery. “Got held up.”
Then, you stumble to the corner, trying to avoid interactions and take in the scenario. Maybe it’s how you lean up against the wall, smile too twisted to be welcoming, that makes no one approach you. Oh well. Eventually, you are all summoned by a mysterious voice to the gymnasium.
As your class wanders, you wonder why your body feels so odd. It is most certainly yours, but you feel taller, somehow. Uneven. You push it to the back of your head and enter the gym.
The game of your life is waiting on the other side.
—
Murder.
What an interesting word. As you stare at your classmates, you wonder if they have it in them to see what it’s all about. You tuck your hands in your pockets and try to think. A murder game, but a game nonetheless. One with rules and pieces. You eye your classmates, assigning them roles in your head.
One of them, a swimmer by the looks of it, suggests they investigate the school itself. The loud boy from earlier agrees. You stay silent, knowing that drawing attention to yourself is a fool’s gambit.
Then, something dangerous happens. Your attention is caught.
“I’ll go alone.” A voice says, calm and clear as the ocean. A tall, blonde figure barely acknowledges the attention he gathers, but he catches yours. He’s not handsome in a rugged way, but the air of confidence he exudes certainly would capture someone’s attention. In a dark suit and white rimmed glasses, he crosses his arms in silence.
“That’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?” A blonde girl with pigtails, you definitely heard someone call her Junko, scoffs.
“Someone here might already have started thinking about murdering us. Should we stand here and make it easier for them?” He pushes up his glasses. “Or did you all seize up in fear because you trusted each other?”
It’s quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then, a low chuckle echoes throughout the group. For a moment, you wonder who the hell is laughing. Then you realize it was you, and you couldn’t keep it under wraps.
The tall boy turns to you. “Something funny?”
“Yeah. You.” You tilt your head, “Did you not listen to what the bear said?”
“Did you?” His face contorts. “Or do you take me for a fool?”
“Maybe, maybe.” You push yourself up against the wall and approach him. Your boots click across the floor, steady in beat. “We’re doomed the moment we start playing that way. Like it’s you against me, instead of us against him.” You gesture to the stage, where Monokuma disappeared. “Now, unless you want to play a fool’s gambit, I suggest you take your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.”
He looks absolutely affronted that you would say something like that. “You’re an imbecile if you think that trusting each other is the correct path. Or maybe you’re just crazy to think that I would listen to you.”
“Oh, I’m definitely crazy.” You shrug. “And besides, I don’t even know who you are.”
“Byakuya Toyama, heir to the Togami Corporation. Now I suggest—“ “The what?”
You just love the way his nose twitches when you ask that. Throughout your life, you’ve met a million guys like him. There’s nothing they hate more than apathy. Which, maybe you’ve heard vaguely of the Togami corporation, but you won’t tell this guy that.
“Whatever that is, I don’t care.” You shake your head, put out your hand, and say your name. “The Ultimate Chess Player, at your service.”
Byakuya turns to walk away, trying to leave your presence at once, but maybe you’re a little greedy. You want one last look at his face as you catch him off guard. So, with your hand outstretched, you grab him by the collar to look at you. The words you want to say are on the tip of your tongue, when his surprised face meets yours and—
Collar bunched up in your fists, you suck on his neck, feeling his body arch against yours. Your thumb runs across his Adam's apple as you leave love bite after love bite. He’s trembling, practically begging for more. You like it when he begs.
“Don’t be shy.” You murmur against his ear, and he shudders.
The memory flashes against your eyes, violently and without warning. Any words you’re about to say die on your tongue, as you instinctually let go of Byakuya. He stares at you for a moment, confused at your reaction, before turning to walk away. He says something or another at you, but you don’t care.
You don’t remember that. Well, you do, but you have no clue where that memory came from. You’d never met Byakuya before this moment. Silently, you watch him bicker with the biker, wondering what’s happening to you.
Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. You’ve won with worse odds before.
—
You head to your room, trying to make sense of your warping mind. You fiddle with the key and open the door to find the room you might spend the rest of your life in. That’s a lot. You collapse on the bed and try to sleep.
You dream in and out of focus.
Your vision is a kaleidoscope of moments, a fisheye lens on your life. It’s like falling, except without the funny feeling in your stomach. You know you’re dreaming, which is a little odd, but at least it’s controllable. You could fall like this for eternities.
“I trust you.” You whisper into someone’s chest, tears staining their shirt. They’re warm and safe, which is a new feeling for you. Your arm is throbbing, bandaged, and banged up. None of you wants to withdraw, but you pull back just to look them in the face.
“I won’t let you down.” Byakuya stares down at you.
“FUCK-“ You jump forward, waking in a sweat. You swear again under your breath, grasping your head. Wherever these false memories are coming from, you don’t understand. But you do know that you’ve never trusted someone like that. Ever.
Running a hand through your hair, you look up to the mirror across from you. You don’t look the same, either. For some reason, your face is a little sharper, a bit of baby fat gone. What happened between entering this school and now?
You realize you never changed into your bedtime clothes, and begin stripping out of your dirty clothes. When you do so, however, something catches your eye.
On your arm, there’s a burn mark. One that you’ve never seen before and never had. It’s large, stretching from your shoulder to just above your forearm. The skin is definitely burnt, coarse to the touch. You don’t know when you got that.
You think about your dream, and how you felt pain in this same spot.
Memories.
You think you might’ve found a strategy here.
—
You don’t sleep much that night. Instead, you plan. There are two things you know for certain.
- You are forgetting a large part of your memory. Enough that you aged, by the looks of it. How old are you?
- In that gap, you trusted Byakuya.
The second piece of information is the important piece. It had to be a good amount of time for you to be that close to a piece of shit like him. Sacrifices have to be made for the game, but you’ll survive. You have to.
So, when the group investigates the school, you set your pieces in order. It’s easy enough to notice things about him, the way he moves. He drinks coffee in the morning, bites the tongue of everyone he speaks to, and keeps talking about this Togami family. But this isn’t helping. You don’t know why he matters in this game of yours. You’ve met a million Byakuya Togami’s, and there’s a million you’ll never meet. Why does he matter?
You take a risk. You initiate a conversation.
“Hey.” You call out to him across the hallway from you. You assume he was walking to his room, but to your surprise, he actually stops and turns to you.
“What is it?” Byakuya crosses his arms, turning to you. When you approach, you have to look up to him, a good few inches taller than you.
“There’s a question that’s been on my mind for a while.” You say, “Kyoko called you the Ultimate Affluent Progeny. What exactly does that mean?”
It was your plan, really. Butter him up, get him to talk about himself, build some rapport. When his upper lip curls with a hint of a smile, you think it worked.
“It means I am nothing less than perfection,” Byakuya responds, and you wouldn’t call how he speaks boasting. No, he seems to speak as if he believes every word he is saying and that he’s speaking the truth. You think he would call the sky blue with the same tone as that statement.
“Perfection?” You raise an eyebrow. Keep him going, keep him interested. “In everything?”
“Everything.” He nods, and you see his eyes losing interest. You try again.
“That seems like a lot of work.” You play with your hair, trying to keep your voice from turning sour.
“It would be, for someone like you.” Byakuya says, “The Togami family was created on greatness. You would not understand?”
Oh. You feel your eye twitch. “Well, we’re both Ultimates-”
“You play a board game. I run the largest corporation in the world.”
“Excuse me?” You say, coughing. “I mean, it’s not just a board game-”
“It is.” He’s eyeing you, obviously looking to leave. “An easy one, at that.”
You try really hard. You try to hold it together and laugh like it’s some sick little joke. But that’s your life’s work. After years of the same fucking comment, years of explaining to people what you do isn’t trivial, years of assholes like him looking down on you, your resolve slips.
“Oh, bite me, Byakuya,” Is all that spits out of your mouth, sick of him.
“I’m not interested in the taste of trash.” Byakuya eyes you before turning swiftly and walking away, clearly done with this conversation. You watch him walk away, holding back another comment.
This isn’t going to be as easy as you wanted it to be.
—
A few nights later, you cannot sleep. Which, great, there goes your other lead. Insomnia is nothing new to you, so you shake yourself off and decide to roam. The hallways at night are much more intriguing. Part of you considers you could be killed, but that’s part of the fun. The words of your classmates fill your head as you find yourself subconsciously placing them into roles. Who could kill you? Who has it in them?
You’re tying up your hair, wandering the halls, when a voice comes from nowhere. “Are fool’s gambits only for grandmasters?” You jump, just a little. Byakuya’s eyeing you very carefully, a little behind you. “Or have you realized the idiocracy of that claim?”
“Do you ever shut up?” You murmur, before speaking at full volume. “Just taking a peek around. Care to join?”
He stares at you, pushing up his glasses. There’s an urge to flush under his gaze, and you don’t know why your body reacts that way. It’s disgusting. “Stop that.”
You blink. “Stop what?”
“This. This whole-” He gestures to your entire figure. “Interest thing. I don’t know what got into your head after our first interaction that I’d want to be seen around you. Whatever you did earlier, stop that.”
A million things happen at once. Byakuya crosses his arms. His upper lip twitches, his weight shifts from one hip to another, and he stares. And yet, all at once, you are intrigued. He’s playing your game. Despite his wishing you to stop, he’s engaged. He has seen your first move and elected to make one back. A blunt one, an explicit choice, but a choice nevertheless. Rarely do you meet such an interesting opponent. You get goosebumps.
You consider lying. You don’t. “Fine then. I’ll stop the games.” Okay, you do lie, but the point stands. “Then what are you doing?”
Byakuya scoffs. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”
“Uh-uh-uh, that’s where you’re wrong.” You shrug, slipping back into your skin easily. “I don’t care if you don’t want my friendship. We’re allies, whether you like it or not.”
“We are not allies.” He laughs in a snotty way. You watch his lips curl.
“We have to be Byakuya. A leader should know that.” You breathe in, breathe out. An idea strikes you through the chest. “Are you following me?”
It must be unfair. You have an advantage, as simple as it was to figure out, but an advantage nonetheless. A game built on an unfair playing field should not be played at all. But then again, you’re already in one with Monokuma, so you suppose you can let this slide. Nevertheless, the stone-cold facade of Byakuya continues to show cracks. There’s no physical indication, but something, something in you know he’s been caught. It’s not just a gut feeling. It’s the same that gives you goosebumps, the same that draws you to him, inexplicably.
“Why-” “Liar.” You stop him before he can begin to justify himself. He scoffs and doesn’t respond. No, the two of you watch each other carefully. All of a sudden, his eyes are bluer.
He briskly walks past you, and you have not learned your lesson. You reach out, forcefully, and grab him by the arm. You hate using the same move twice, especially something so aggressive, but dear lord, you don’t know what this boy brings out in you. Byakuya must be something.
“You know, Byakuya,” You consider saying it, and then just do it. With everything you have in you, you try to mimic the intonation from that memory. “Don’t be shy.”
He fucking flinches. HE FUCKING FLINCHES.
It’s there. You swear to god his eyes flicker, and something happens, and he’s walking away because you know he knows, and something is happening! Laughter is bubbling from your chest, even though he’s gone, and you realize that you could survive this. You have to clutch your chest to keep yourself up straight, shadows clinging to the hall. Byakuya ran away, and you are winning.
You go back to bed. Sayaka Maizono dies in the next hallway.
—
Okay. Fun fact: you are VERY familiar with the Latin alphabet. As an international chess prodigy, you picked up a thing or two. So, you see what’s written behind Sayaka Maizono and are slightly impressed. She left you a message, got her final words in, and it’s pretty nicely written. Silently, you send her a message wherever she could be. Smart girl.
Then, no one else gets it. You consider telling them. And you don’t.
You will, if they don’t get it. You decide this on the elevator, down to the trial room. What you are thinking about more is that Junko girl, dying in front of you all. It makes sense for Monokuma to show his power, really put you all on the ice, but it still feels like a waste. Get rid of one of your precious students, someone who could potentially incite murder? You push the thought out of your head, but something about it rings odd to you.
Anyway, trial. Everyone’s standing around, giving clues, and you just watch Leon. He’s so fucking nervous, you see his hand shaking. At first, you wonder why, but then you hear that Makoto was asked to switch rooms, and the realization that she attacked hits you like a smack to the face. That’s kind of awful. Only kind of, he could have walked away at some point, you learn, so it’s still kind of.
You only really chime in when everyone is freaked out, they can’t figure out who it was, and there’s no hint. A quick “Really?” gets all eyes on you.
“She left a message.” You shrug. “Did none of you read it?”
And the game is played again. You watch it all go down, you watch as Leon dies, and you are shocked. You think that image will never quite leave you, in all honesty. You watch until–
“You knew her message the whole time.”
“I did, Byakuya.” You turn and smile, the last two left by the elevator. Everyone else stumbled back to their beds, lost in thought. “Still following me?”
“You are cocky.” Byakuya pushes up his glasses, not a strand of hair falling from his face. “Cocky, obnoxious, and going to get yourself killed.”
“...cocky, rude, and your idiotic tricks won’t work on someone like me…”
A flashback is hitting you; you feel it in the front of your brain. It suddenly becomes hard to swallow as your brain recalls the memory. As such, your mouth goes on autopilot.
“You like it.” You whisper, smirking despite nausea.
You are standing by a fountain. Then, a school hallway. Your (your?) dorm room. A gymnasium. A school dance. Millions of moments, standing across from each other. The same smirk on your face, the same crossed arms from him. It feels almost like fate that you two keep meeting like this.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” You turn to walk away, all the memories too much. “See you tomorrow, blondie.”
The light flickers in the hall as you dash off, leaving him in your midst. Somewhere in the building, a very alive Junko Enoshima watches this exchange. A plan forms in her head.
In the outside world, cities burn. People die. Millions of people watch, on every screen left running, Byakuya and you, alongside the rest of hope for society.