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Wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck, Byakuya knocked on the front door of Toko’s apartment. He could hear a stereo inside, playing soft but obnoxious Christmas music, and further increasing the likelihood that Toko wouldn’t actually hear the knock.
No matter. Gloved hands pulled a key ring out of his pocket, and after selecting one, he pushed it into the lock and let himself in.
The music was much louder now that he was inside, which both annoyed and confused him, since Toko hated the commercialism surrounding the holiday. She also wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so he went down the hall, hoping she wasn’t still in the shower.
Her bedroom door was closed, so he rapped on it with his knuckles; he was not just going to barge into her bedroom unannounced. “It’s me,” he added so she wouldn’t freak out.
Even with his statement, he heard a faint squeak from inside the room. “J-just a minute!” she called out. Thank God he’d knocked, she was probably still getting dressed. A moment passed and then a “C-come in!” was heard.
He opened the door to her bedroom, but she wasn’t alone. Komaru sat on the bed, legs dangling off the side (her presence explained the music that was playing). Toko sat next to her, meticulously placing the last bit of tape on a small rectangular parcel. She beamed as he came in. “M-merry Christmas M– er, Byakuya.” It had taken him years to finally break her habit of calling him “Master,” and while she slipped up occasionally, her progress in that regard was remarkable. He nodded to her before glaring at Komaru.
“Naegi.”
“Rich bitch,” she giggled in return, and Byakuya noted a glass of eggnog in her hand. Biting down several comments he could have made, he turned back to Toko.
“Happy Christmas. Are you ready to go?”
“Almost. Let me just grab my coat.” She slid off the bed and went to her closet and started digging around in it.
That left Byakuya with Komaru. Great. “I didn’t realize that I was going to be driving the both of you,” he sniffed. “Why are you even here? Couldn’t wait a couple of hours for dinner?”
Komaru pouted. “My brother is a jerk and said I couldn’t come since it was ‘just for his class,’” she grumbled. “And I can drive myself.”
“I’ve seen you behind the wheel of a vehicle,” he countered. “I’m not sure that can be referred to as driving.”
“Do you still have to be this much of a jerk, even on Christmas?” she lamented. “Either way, I just came over to give Toko both her Christmas present, and, of course, my invaluable fashion advice.”
He was almost scared to ask the question. “...What did you get her?”
Komaru laughed in a way that made Byakuya regret ever becoming acquainted with her. “Music! Toko never listens to modern music, and that’s a crime. But this isn’t just to expand her tastes. I made a playlist specifically for when she needs a boost of self-confidence!”
“It’s awful,” Toko complained as she emerged from her closet, now clad in a coat, scarf, and hat. Byakuya couldn’t help but note that she looked perfectly fine, so he doubted that Komaru’s ‘fashion advice’ had been necessary. He’d even go so far as to say that Toko looked nice.
He turned away from her abruptly. Of all his Hope’s Peak classmates, and much to his own astonishment, he spent the most time with Toko by far. How that happened, he still didn’t know. He couldn’t stand her their first year at school.
But before they’d graduated, something had changed. Her confidence grew, his disdain had shrunk. They’d also been paired on a project they needed to graduate, and he’d come to find that not only was she tolerable, she was intelligent. She had her own quiet brand of strength, and had, quite by accident, taught him a different way of looking at the world. He was not an emotional man, not by any margin, but he’d learned that emotions weren’t necessarily a bad thing. Ever since then, she’d somehow solidified herself in his life.
And lately, he’d found himself thinking about her. A lot.
“What’s on this playlist?” he asked Komaru hastily, before his thoughts on Toko could get out of hand. Again.
Grinning, Komaru pressed a clear CD case into his hand. The case had her untidy scrawl on the back, presumably the song titles. He flipped the case to look them over.
Most of the songs were Japanese, though he recognized precious few of them. He assumed she’d gotten most of them from anime. There were a few English titles from celebrities big enough to be internationally well-known. Even he had a general idea of who Britney Spears and Lady Gaga were.
The last song, however, made him frown. “What the hell is this?” he demanded of her. “This last one…” He couldn’t even say the name with a straight face.
Komaru cackled. “Never heard Cupcakke’s ‘Deepthroat’ before? I’ll play it.” Before he could stop her, she snatched the CD back and shoved it in the boombox that had been spewing the Christmas music. Toko, who clearly knew what was coming, groaned and pulled her hat down to hide her scarlet face.
Her embarrassment became clear a moment later. The song was filthy. He’d read a couple of Toko’s books previously, and while he had definitely not enjoyed the sex scenes sprinkled throughout, at least those were tastefully crafted. This song was just disgusting.
“Toko, grab your things. We’re leaving,” he announced, feeling the tips of his ears burning. Toko squeaked and scrambled for the two presents that were on her bed, and followed Byakuya out the door.
“Have fun!” Komaru called to them as they left, then they were alone in the frigid winter air. Byakuya stomped over to his car, trying to drive the song from his mind.
Toko slid into the passenger seat, carefully holding her gifts on her lap. He was mildly surprised she’d brought both; he assumed one was for Komaru. She looked at the empty backseat. “W-where’s your present?”
“I got Naegi, and what I got him isn’t something that can be wrapped. It’s in an envelope in my jacket.” They’d been having Christmas as a class for a few years now, and they’d quickly learned that the most efficient way of doing things was to draw names, and only getting a present for that person. Many of them also received presents from those they were particularly close to, but this system meant no one was left out, and that they didn’t all have to think of fifteen separate gifts every year.
“I-I got Yasuhiro,” Toko said with a small frown. “He doesn’t appreciate books at all, but I managed to find something on a-astrology. It has gorgeous pictures of constellations in case he can’t read.” Byakuya snorted at her comment. Hagakure being unable to read was definitely within the realm of possibility.
He nodded at the second present on her lap. Both looked very similar, rectangles of different thickness. One was obviously the book for Hagakure, but he wasn’t sure about the second book. “Who is that for?” he asked.
Toko suddenly went crimson. “Um… y-you’ll find out l-later,” she mumbled. She picked up a bit of her hair and started playing with the ends.
He frowned momentarily. Based on her reaction, he would hazard a guess that the second gift was for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her doing this for him, but anything he wanted he could get himself. Toko knew that. And… well, there was also the uncomfortable truth of what the gift likely represented to her.
He was fully aware of Toko’s lingering feelings for him, and he knew Toko knew he was aware. She’d been in love with him for years, and now matter how their relationship had evolved, that had never changed. While she wasn’t as overt, she was no less in love with him than she had been when they’d first met.
It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they didn’t mention it. What they had now was comfortable. Byakuya wasn’t comfortable with emotions. No matter how he’d softened since high school, he still wasn’t in tune with his feelings. He spent so long burying them that he wasn’t even sure he even recognized them anymore.
He didn’t want to hurt her. He knew that much. But he also couldn’t say with certainty that he wanted their relationship to turn romantic.
…But he couldn’t say with certainty that he didn’t not want their relationship to turn romantic.
So he said nothing. He allowed them to coexist in comfortable camaraderie, the same as they’d been doing for years. They sat at a red light, implications still hanging in the air. Byakuya shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket, his thumb running over a case, wondering if he dared to pull it out later.
“Are you sure Naegi didn’t want us to bring anything?” he asked, just to break the heavy silence that threatened to become suffocating.
“Oh… um, y-yes,” Toko muttered, clearly not expecting the sudden topic change. “He was very d-determined to do all the work since he and Kyoto are hosting. Although I don’t think K-Kyoko was very happy about the amount of cooking they’d have to do…”
Her voice trailed off as Byakuya turned onto the correct street and they now saw several cars lined up in front of one house in particular. Byakuya found an empty bit of sidewalk about a block away and they hurried to the front door, Toko pulling her scarf up to cover the lower half of her face against the biting wind.
Byakuya jabbed his finger at the doorbell when they reached the porch, and then they only had to wait a couple of seconds before they were greeted by the smiling face of Makoto Naegi. “Hey guys!” he enthused. “Come on in! There’s slippers right by the door you can change into, and then presents can go under the tree in the sitting room.” If he was surprised to see Byakuya and Toko arrive together, he didn’t show it. He had no reason not to expect it; schedule permitting, Byakuya always drove Toko around. She didn’t feel comfortable driving herself, so her options besides him were either public transportation or Komaru, and he didn’t think highly of either of those options.
A few members of their class were already there. Hina and Sakura sat on a couch, while Celeste sat in an armchair sipping tea. Kyoko’s and Sayaka’s voices could be heard coming from the kitchen. They’d agreed not to do one big dinner, but there were a variety of cookies set out for people to sample, which Hina was taking full advantage of.
“Can I get you guys anything to drink? We’ve got rose hip tea, juice, water… I might be able to make a pot of coffee if you want,” Makoto offered.
“Tea is fine,” Byakuya murmured, and Toko said the same thing. Hina moved onto Sakura’s lap to make room for them on the sofa, and the two took their proffered seats.
“Ooh, Toko, I just read your latest book,” Hina enthused. “It was so good, I loved it, but Megume definitely should’ve ended up with Daisuke. I mean, what gives? He was so much nicer to her, not like Kaito. He was a jerk.”
“Kaito learned to be a better person for her, and she had more chemistry with him,” Toko defended instantly, though her cheeks were starting to glow. “It would have been boring if Megume was with Daisuke, and no one wants to read a boring story.”
“I guess, but hear me out–” Hina was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell again, causing Makoto to bound into the room. He stopped just long enough to give Byakuya and Toko their drinks before running to the door, this time letting in Yasuhiro. Byakuya was grateful that this seemed to cause Hina to lose her train of thought. Toko was very passionate about her books, and didn’t like the thought of sitting on the same couch as the two girls if they got into an argument.
And besides, Toko was right. He’d read the book himself.
Over the next several minutes, the rest of their class trickled in. They were still waiting on a few latecomers when a motorcycle roar got everyone’s attention. Louder and louder it became, and by the time it came to a stop, Makoto had already opened the door.
“Makoto! Our apologies for being late!” Taka announced with a short bow. He appeared to be slightly windswept. “Mondo had trouble hearing my directions to Chihiro’s house.”
Meanwhile, Chihiro himself was currently climbing out of the sidecar of Mondo’s motorcycle, taking his helmet off. “Hi, everyone! Sorry we’re late.”
The three of them piled in, looking for spots in the room. It was starting to get very crowded, and they were still waiting for two more people.
Without a word, Byakuya wrapped a loose arm around Toko and pulled her up onto his lap, causing her to let out a squeak of surprise. Almost every head in the room turned to look at them (Hiro was predictably clueless). “What?” Byakuya asked defensively. He made it sound like he was talking to everyone, but he kept his eyes firmly planted on Toko. “This creates extra space for people to sit down. And you weigh next to nothing. It’s not uncomfortable for me in the slightest.”
“O-okay,” Toko agreed. She trembled where he touched her, but the tension diffused slightly when Chihiro and Leon squeezed on the couch with them. Even still, Kyoko, Sakura, and Makoto continued to eye them suspiciously. Byakuya looked away, adjusting his glasses. They deserved no acknowledgement from him. There was nothing peculiar about the situation in the slightest.
Thankfully, the doorbell rang for the final time that night, and Makoto let in the twins, Junko and Mukuro. The latter was laden down with two large presents, while Junko waved merrily. “Hello, hello!” she trilled. “Thanks for waiting for us, but we can officially get started now that I have arrived.” Mukuro dumped her burden underneath the tree while Junko perched herself on the arm of Celeste’s armchair.
Makoto finally sat down at the base of the tree. “Now that we’re all here–” he began, but was almost immediately cut off.
“Sakura and I are engaged!” Hina yelled shrilly from the opposite side of the sofa as Byakuya and Toko. The former scowled at the pitch her voice had reached. Hina grinned guiltily. “Sorry for shouting, but I’m just so excited! I’ve wanted to say something all night, but we wanted to wait until everyone was here to make the announcement.”
“Congratulations!” Kyoko offered the couple a rare smile. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. I can say from experience that marriage is special psychologically, even though I would have scoffed at the notion before. May we see the ring?”
Hina thrust her left hand forward, showing off a princess cut diamond set on a white gold band. “We don’t have a date or a venue picked out or anything, but we’ll be sure to let you all know when the details are set,” Sakura said in her slow cadence. “Of course, we would love for you all to be there.”
“You know it! I’m down to party again!” Junko giggled. Besides Christmas, Makoto and Kyoko’s wedding a few months ago had been the only other time they’d managed to bring their entire class together. A few people, mainly Junko, Hiro, Leon, and Mondo, had taken advantage of the open bar. They hadn’t gotten drunk to the point of being disorderly, but they’d certainly had a good time, and Junko had drunk all three boys under the table.
A few more updates were given, though no one had as big of news as Hina and Sakura. Makoto and Kyoko were adjusting well to married life. Taka was beginning to run his campaign for mayor of Tokyo. Leon had been signed to a professional team in America, and practiced music in the off season. Sayaka, with her group’s blessing, was preparing to release a solo album.
Finally, Mondo clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s stop fucking around,” he said, though he was laughing instead of fighting back anger. “Makoto, start handing out presents already.”
“Okay, okay,” Makoto agreed as he pulled the nearest bag towards him and looked at the tag. “For Celeste,” he announced. The gift was passed along the room to the gambler, avoiding a route that would take it to Junko, who absolutely would have opened it before it reached its intended recipient.
Celeste peered into the bag once it reached her, an unreadable look on her face. “What is it?”
Hifumi picked up the question, spoiling who the present was from. “Milk tea, just the way you like it,” he said nervously.
“Oh, good.” Celeste breathed out a sigh of relief. She thrust the bag towards Hifumi. “Go make me some,” she demanded.
“B-but this isn’t my hou–”
“Did I stutter?”
“Eeeep! R-right away Miss Ludenberg!” Hifumi waddled to the kitchen as fast as his legs could carry him to make Celeste her tea. She settled back into her chair, a content smile on her face.
After thoroughly embarrassing Hifumi, the rest of the gift-giving went much more smoothly. Hiro gushed about the book Toko had gotten him, and Byakuya felt her physically relax on his lap after approval was given.
About halfway through, Makoto pulled a white envelope from the tree. “Oh… this one’s for me,” he said curiously as he ripped it open. His expression quickly turned to one of confusion as he perused its contents, making Byakuya sigh.
“They’re stocks in the Togami Corporation,” he explained, some impatience creeping into his tone. “Frankly, there’s never been a better time than now to invest; we’re doing better than at any other point in history.” He didn’t bother hiding his pride when he said that. “If you need help, I can take a couple hours to give you a basic understanding of how to work the stock market.”
Makoto hadn’t looked so uncomfortable since he’d asked Kyoko to their senior prom. “Oh, um… thanks?” he murmured, still looking like he wanted to melt away into the floor.
A few minutes later, after Makoto’s face had gone back to normal, a gift was instead passed to Byakuya, making him sigh. No matter the thought put into it, he simply had the means to obtain whatever he wanted, making him a nightmare to buy anything for. Most of his presents from this had ended up in the garbage. The only exception was when Toko had gotten him once and managed to get her hands on a first edition printing of his favorite book.
This year, however, the tag claimed it was from Kyoko. Glancing at her, he found her looking quite smug, which did intrigue him. He began to pull things out of the bag.
“Those are all things I know you don’t already have,” Kyoko proclaimed, and she wasn’t wrong. They were all pictures from Hope’s Peak, likely ones that had been taken but hadn’t ended up in a yearbook, and all framed. He supposed she’d gotten access to them through her father, who was still headmaster.
The last picture, however, wasn’t from high school at all. It was only a few months old, from Kyoko and Makoto’s wedding, and depicted him and Toko dancing together. He hadn’t realized the photographer, Mahiru, had captured this.
Oh, he knew how it happened. Though he knew how to dance, it wasn’t something he enjoyed. He hadn’t been planning on dancing at all. But one of Makoto’s cousins had taken a liking to him halfway through the night, once she learned his last name. She would not stop flirting with him, so he finally snapped, lied, and told her he was taken. To keep up the ruse, he’d grabbed Toko and led her out to dance.
It hadn’t been spectacular. Toko was decidedly not a dancer, and she was so awestruck by the whole thing that she nearly melted against him, and had stepped on his toes a couple of times. But it wasn’t horrendous either. They’d made it through, and Makoto’s cousin had left him alone after the fact.
Those were the facts. That’s not what the picture showed.
If he wasn’t the one depicted, he would have thought it was a picture of a man dancing with his girlfriend. Toko was effervescent. She shined, as if just being in his arms could have sustained her for life. Her expression wasn’t her usual creepy smile, but a girl who couldn’t have looked more in love. And he… he was actually smiling back at her.
And it wasn’t his usual smirk either. He didn’t smile often, but that was the expression he was giving her, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
And the girl in question was currently sitting on his lap, glancing down at the picture with interest.
He felt the sudden urge to push her off of him, never mind that she had nowhere to go but on top of Chihiro, and yell at Kyoko for doing this to him. But no, that wouldn’t help. If anything, it would either reinforce her beliefs, or give her ideas that hadn’t been there in the first place. No, the best thing to do would be to pretend this didn’t affect him at all.
“Thanks,” he muttered, shoving the pictures back into the bag. He was not going to look at them any longer than he needed to. He didn’t need to get confused any further.
Instead, he immersed himself in watching others open their gifts, showing far more interest than he ever had in the past. But even as he tried to distract himself, he was almost painfully aware of Toko on his lap, and it was taking all of his willpower to not look at her and see if she really was as beautiful as she had appeared in the picture.
Finally, only one person was left. And because there was clearly some force working against him that night, it was Toko. Of course it was.
A rather large box was being passed to her, and by process of elimination, it was from Junko. An interesting combination, to say the least. He couldn’t possibly fathom what might be in that box, but Junko was nearly vibrating in excitement. That couldn’t be a good sign.
There was also the problem of still not wanting to look Toko in the face. He didn’t particularly care to look at Kyoko either, since he knew she was gloating. He settled for staring at the knee Toko was perched on to at least give the illusion that he was paying attention to her.
He heard the ripping of wrapping paper, a bout of silence, and then a scream from Toko before his back was unceremoniously pushed back into the couch. Toko had flung her body backwards to get away from whatever cursed thing Junko had given her, and fell right into him.
“Dammit… Fukawa,” he grumbled as he gently pushed her back into a seating position and fixed his glasses that she’d knocked askew. “What could possibly be so bad–” he was cut off as he found Junko’s present on the ground. Heat rose to his face.
The entire class knew Junko had some odd affinity for making… whatever the hell it was that she made. She’d often carried around a bear at school that they thought was a stuffed animal, though both she and Mukuro insisted otherwise. She particularly liked to bring the bear out when she would crawl around the vents, whisper the word ‘despair’ while classes were going on, and then pretend it was the bear that was saying it.
For Toko, she’d made something similar. Except it wasn’t the foul bear.
It was… him.
“Darling, don’t leave that on the floor,” Junko pouted. “Besides, I haven’t even been able to explain all the features to you! Its clothes come off, of course, and you’ll find all the ratios are perfectly proportional to the original model.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Byakuya protested, hating that his voice came out several octaves higher than normal.
Junko waved a hand dismissively. “I know everyone’s measurements,” she commented, much to the dismay of the rest of the class. She ignored all the squawks of protest and refused to elaborate further. “The important part is I can guarantee authenticity, one hundred percent.” She leaned forward eagerly. “Do you like it?”
Toko flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet as she bent over to put the thing back in the box it came from. She mumbled something that even Byakuya, close as he was to her, couldn’t make out, but seeing as Junko started cackling, he decided he was better off remaining ignorant.
Almost as if on cue, a distant ding went off in the other room right as Toko straightened back up. Kyoko and Makoto exchanged a brief glance that Byakuya couldn’t read before Kyoko looked at him of all people. “Can you and Toko grab that last batch of cookies out of the oven? You’re closest to the kitchen,” she explained.
They weren’t, but the actual people closest to the kitchen were Celeste and Junko, who wouldn’t do favors for anyone. Begrudgingly, he nudged Toko slightly. She leapt off his knee and followed him into the kitchen, if only to get away from the rest of them for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted the second they were in the other room. “I-I had no clue she was going to do that–”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he insisted firmly, wiping off his glasses as a layer of condensation inexplicably gathered on them. “You didn’t ask her to get that for you. She played a number of juvenile pranks in high school and has clearly failed to mature out of them. You had no fault in this.”
She mumbled something again, but he was too focused on what was continuously causing his glasses to fog up. Glancing back at Toko, he found she was having the same problem; she’d already taken her own glasses off and had set them on the counter. Giving in, his joined hers a moment later. “What’s–?”
“Kyoko’s running a diffuser,” Toko said, pointing with a shaky finger at the other side of the counter. Her eyesight was slightly better than his when neither of them wore glasses, which explained why he hadn’t noticed it. He could see directly in front of his own face without glasses, but not much beyond that. Byakuya scowled at the thing before making his way over to the oven. He was forced to squint to find the right buttons to turn it off, and did not trust for a moment that he would be able to reach into the thing.
He handed Toko the oven mitts that had mercifully been left out on the counter. “I can’t see a thing,” he huffed. “Can you grab the tray out of the oven to satisfy Kirigiri?”
“Oh… okay,” she murmured. Toko was actually surprisingly comfortable with baking, far more than he’d ever be. She’d explained once that she’d had a lot of practice both making chocolates that wound up being rejected for Valentine’s Day, as well as being forced to feed herself when her parents refused or forgot to give her food.
She pulled the baking sheet of cookies out of the oven and set them on top of the stove, managing not to burn herself. “We should get back out,” she said before fumbling to the counter they’d left their glasses on. She frowned suddenly.
“Our g-glasses are g-gone,” she whimpered, her stutter getting worse as she feared she’d get in trouble for making a mistake. “I d-don’t know where th-they went.”
Byakuya walked over, frowning as well, but not at her. “We set them right here. I remember putting mine down right next to yours,” he stated. “What the hell do they think they’re doing?” A deep scowl on his face, we went back out to the sitting room. Though everyone’s faces were blurred, he imagined more than a few of them were smirking.
“Whatever joke you’re playing, it isn’t funny,” he snapped. “Come find me when you decide to behave like adults again.” He stomped away, still glowering. He would have preferred to leave, but driving without his glasses would prove disastrous.
He ended up in a hallway beneath the second floor landing of Makoto and Kyoko’s house. He squinted upwards, but the lights upstairs were off, and he saw nothing in the darkness. He ran his hand through his hair instead, trying not to let his anger get the best of him.
After several deep breaths, he’d managed to calm down marginally. He heard a soft patter of feet behind him. Assuming someone was finally coming to their senses and returning his glasses, he turned to face them.
He was wrong. It was Toko, still without glasses herself. She was looking down, shuffling her feet forward, with her hands hidden behind her back. “What is it?” he asked her, not unkindly.
Toko was horribly flushed. She still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I thought… s-since we h-have a m-m-moment t-to ourselves…” she trailed off.
“Spit it out,” he commanded, confused as to why she was acting like this. Her stutter hadn’t been this bad in years.
She looked like she might be sick. Instead of risking opening her mouth, she thrust her hands towards him, offering up the second present she’d brought with her. Byakuya felt his face soften slightly. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he murmured. Still, to avoid hurting her feelings, he took the gift and peeled off the wrapping paper.
A plain, leather-bound book greeted him. Curiosity piqued, he opened it… and promptly stared.
During the project they’d been paired on in high school, they’d each had to prove they’d worked on and improved their talent, and were required to help their partner with their presentations. Toko had wanted to show she could dip into different genres, as well as poetry. By her own admission, she didn’t know much about poetry, and he did, so they’d spent hours in the library looking up poems, and they’d never really stopped. To this day, they were constantly sending poetry to each other.
She’d collected all those poems together, painstakingly written out using her favorite fountain pen with her best penmanship. Her usual scrawl was quite messy, but these were clearly written in her very best handwriting that he knew had taken quite a bit of time. He paged through it, recognizing nearly every poem as one they had either looked up together or shared between the two. There was only one he didn’t know, the last poem in the collection. His eyes drank in the words.
Child of winter, life measured by woes
Can find no friend, there are only foes
Child of winter, there is naught but pain
Used by others, for only their gain
Child of winter, life has been too cruel
To hope is useless, you are only their tool
But child of winter, all is not lost
Night’s child will save, no matter the cost
Child of winter, please dry your tears
Night’s child will drive away your fears
Child of winter, there is naught but light
Given to thee by your white night
…For as much as Byakuya’s classmates might claim that he was emotionally unavailable, he was neither stupid nor ignorant. He knew how Toko felt. He knew that her infatuation began in school, and time had done nothing to change it.
But the question he had failed to answer was why Toko felt that way. Whenever women would shower him with affection, it was generally due to his looks, his success, and above all, his wealth. In short, they liked him for the simple fact that he was a Togami, and he had spurned them all. He’d always lumped Toko into that category as well.
It occurred to him for the first time that he might have been wrong to do so.
Some of these lines in the poem didn’t make any sense to him, at least from his own perspective. She’d implied he’d saved her? He couldn’t recall ever doing anything of the sort.
He’d be breaking all the rules of poetry to ask her. He’d listened to enough of her rants about how art was supposed to be subjective and how people should develop their own interpretations when Komaru or someone similarly uneducated asked about symbolism in works that weren’t her own.
And yet, this was her work. And unlike with other forms of literature, Toko was very specific with what she wanted her words to mean. She slaved over her editing process, agonizing for hours to choose even one word on occasion. He’d watched her do it. He had no reason to believe she’d done anything different with this poem. Especially a poem for him.
Therein lay the other problem. Her feelings littered the page in front of him. He didn’t want to risk getting into a conversation that demanded an answer he didn’t have. But his curiosity was too great.
“What do you mean by ‘I saved you?’” he asked, his voice coming out as a whisper. The last thing he wanted was for one of their former classmates to hear them and interrupt. They might technically be out in the open, but dammit, this was private.
Toko was still looking at the floor. “You did save me… from her.”
And with those few words, suddenly everything made sense.
He, and he alone of their class, knew of the existence of Toko’s other personality, though it really wasn’t Toko at all. When spending countless hours with her in a dusty library, it was inevitable that she’d sneeze at some point. That was her trigger.
That second personality of hers was usually decent at keeping a low profile, so she wouldn’t be found out. But Byakuya could hardly fail to notice something different when forced to spend so much time with her. After she switched a couple of times, and with a great deal of coaxing, Jill had revealed herself to him.
She’d also revealed that she was the serial killer dubbed Genocide Jack by the authorities.
He guarded the secret like it was his own, never called the police, helping Jill hide from the rest of the class. He understood that she and Toko were different, and after several hours of deep reflection, and his slowly growing acceptance of Toko at the time, he didn’t want Toko punished for Jill’s actions, on the caveat that she never allowed Jill to kill again.
She’d done it. She’d successfully repressed her alter’s need to kill, and while he may have given her the motivation, she was the one to actually carry it out. He hadn’t saved her. She’d done that herself, and he told her as much.
“No,” she denied. “I-I couldn’t have done it without you,” she insisted. “W-when I felt her pushing, trying to take control, I thought of Komaru, and I thought of you. That gave me the strength to resist her.”
Komaru… and himself…
The two people she loved…
He couldn’t identify the feeling that had settled low in his gut. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but he didn’t like it. Letting himself be mastered by anything, especially emotions, was an abhorrent concept, not to be considered.
That’s what the old him would’ve said anyway. And even today, even after Toko had taught him emotions weren’t always bad, he’d never applied that to himself. Any emotion he might have had that threatened to take control of him, he always killed it. Always.
And yet, it wasn’t the first time he had had this particular feeling. Strangely, it only seemed to appear when he was with Toko, or more recently, also whenever she flitted into his mind. He didn’t know why, and he hated it.
“I got something for you as well,” he announced abruptly, tucking the book under his arm. Maybe actually giving this to her would distract from that ever-growing feeling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flat black case. “I didn’t feel the need to wrap it,” he said awkwardly. He didn’t need to tell her that before this point, he was unsure if he was even going to give it to her, which is really what kept him from having it wrapped.
But it was in her hand now. No turning back.
She lifted the lid of the case, and one hand immediately flew up to cover her mouth. He supposed they were lucky she didn’t drop it. “Is this–?”
“It’s just a necklace,” he mumbled, not able to meet her eyes for some stupid reason. He settled on staring at her shoulder. “I know you don’t buy anything nice for yourself. So I got this for you.” He didn’t like explaining his reasoning. He certainly hadn’t been planning on getting anything for her. His feet had walked into that jewelry shop of their own accord.
“Y-you shouldn’t have sp-spent so much on me,” she lamented. “I-I’m not w-worth it–” he cut her off with a stern look.
“Stop it. You’re worth it,” he insisted. “I have billions, Toko. Price means nothing to me.” That part, at least, was true. He hadn’t even looked at the cost before handing his card to the clerk. He still wouldn’t have been able to tell her how much he spent.
Instead, he held out his hand to take it back from her. “Here. I’ll put it on for you,” he didn’t offer so much as demanded. He took the delicate silver chain out of the box as Toko, who’d chosen to wear her hair down tonight, gathered it up in her hands and pushed it to one side. She turned around, her back facing him.
He maneuvered his hands so that the chain didn’t get caught up in her hair. Dangling now from her throat was a single, tear-drop shaped aquamarine, her birthstone. He fastened the lobster-claw closure, fingers soft as the light flurry of snow falling outside.
She fixed her hair back in place and turned to face him again. She was looking down at her new jewel, lightly touching it with her own fingers. Then she looked up at him, straight in the face, and he had no time to prepare himself.
He’d been terrified of looking at her and realizing she was just as pretty as Mahiru’s picture had made her out to be. Fortunately, she looked nothing like she’d been depicted in the picture.
Unfortunately, for his sanity at least, she was far prettier.
She didn’t look any different. She was still the same Toko she’d always been. He couldn’t answer why she was affecting him now. He couldn’t answer why he’d bought her a gift for Christmas despite not needing to. He couldn’t answer why she’d been creeping into his mind with frightening regularity lately. Not having answers, giving one girl so much power over him… he wanted to pull his own hair out. He was a Togami, for God’s sake.
But he’d never been a Togami to her. With Toko, and only with Toko, he was and had only ever been Byakuya.
He just stared at her, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. She was no help; she just stared back. He didn’t know how long they were locked in the stalemate, but he must have moved his head at some point, since the trance only broke when something brushed the back of his hair.
“What the–?” He turned and found they were standing next to a sprig of mistletoe that he hadn’t seen. At first glance it seemed to be floating in midair, but upon further inspection, he found it was attached to a fishing wire. He looked up, trying to find where it was hung from, but he saw only indistinct shapes, no doubt from the blackness playing tricks on his eyes.
Besides, there were other matters that were far more pressing.
He knew what people were supposed to do when caught under the mistletoe. Based on Toko’s widened eyes, she’d seen it as well. Normally, he’d never even consider this. But… it was Toko… and there was no one around. Maybe this would be the only way to make the feeling in his stomach stop.
“Toko,” he breathed. She looked up at him with those wide eyes of hers. The light hint of lilac in them was especially prominent at this distance. “Hold still…”
His hand crept to the nape of her neck, and he felt her shudder under his fingers. Her eyes seemed to glaze over. “Th-this is a dream,” she whispered. “This h-has to be a dr-dream…”
“Toko.” His tone was firm and commanding, and she felt compelled to look up at him from under her lashes. “This is real,” he promised. And with no more preamble, he bent and pressed his lips to hers.
He didn’t know what to expect. He’d never kissed anyone before–he’d never felt the need to. He thought it might be horribly awkward, or that Toko might freeze and it would feel no different than kissing a wall.
Instead, she sighed against his mouth and her lips were pliable as they moved along with his. Her hands started on his chest, palms pressed flat against him, until they slid north, curving around his neck. His free hand also moved, to cup the side of her face. Far exceeding what he could have expected, every single one of his senses was consumed by her.
The feeling in his stomach didn’t dissipate, but rather exploded the moment their lips met. He was gone. There was nothing left in this world, nothing but Toko and the feel of her body pressed against his…
Crash! The bang caused them to split apart abruptly, Toko letting out a shriek. Byakuya was still dazed a bit from the kiss, but recovered enough to find Yasuhiro on the floor next to him. He was crumpled up at an odd angle, rolling to his back from his shoulder, and in his hand he held a wire.
A fishing wire that had a familiar sprig of mistletoe affixed to the end of it.
A light burst on from up above him, and squinting upwards yet again, he found faces but couldn’t make out how many or who they belonged to. “What the hell is going on here?” he growled.
Toko groaned wordlessly, grabbing the sides of her head. “C-can’t we get a m-moment alone?” she wailed. “You… you… you’re all terrible! You r-ruined our f-first kiss! I’ll n-ever forgive a-any of you!”
He held up a finger to stop her. “Whoever has my glasses,” he began, his voice low and dangerous. “Give them to me now.”
A figure stepped around the corner. The short stature identified him as Chihiro. “Sorry,” he chuckled, not sounding very sorry at all. “But I really wanted to help, so I offered to take the glasses when Kyoko told me about her plan.”
Byakuya was hardly even listening to him, he just snatched his glasses away and was finally able to see what was going on around him. Taka and Mondo were both standing, leaning over the balcony of the second floor landing, while Kyoko and Makoto had the gall to actually stick their heads through the gaps in the bannister. Kyoko didn't look the least bit ashamed of her plan being discovered.
“The two of you have been dancing around your feelings for far too long,” she declared. “So I took it upon myself to help the process along. The only mistake was having Mondo hold up Hiro. I knew we should have asked Sakura.”
“Geez, I said I was sorry,” Mondo grumbled, one hand behind his neck. “I got distracted, okay?”
“I'm sorry,” Taka muttered, looking at the ground. “I just wanted to be a good partner and offer you the new treats that were available.”
“Either way,” Kyoko intervened, cutting them both off. “The plan worked, even if we did have to resort to holding Hiro over the balcony since we didn't have much wire. How are you doing, Hiro?”
“‘M fine,” he mumbled as he slowly got to his feet. “I mean, that's not the first time I've been dropped on my head.”
“That explains a lot,” Toko grumbled. Her face was cherry red, and due to the heat he could feel in his own face, Byakuya was sure he wasn't faring much better.
“Hey! Don't be mean!” Hiro defended. Byakuya rolled his eyes, tired of all their bickering. He had unfinished business to attend to.
“Now that you've all had your cheap entertainment, we're leaving,” he snarled. He grabbed Toko by the arm and gently tugged her, pulling her from the house and onto the front porch, saying goodbye to no one.
The second the front door closed behind them, Toko started spouting off at the mouth. “I-I can’t believe they r-ruined it!” she lamented. “And me–oh, I was h-horrible, wasn’t I? I’m s-sorry it was so b-bad!”
“Toko. Stop talking.” The moment she stopped wallowing in self pity, he immediately bent and kissed her again. The feeling was back in his stomach, more intense than ever, and this was the only thing he could think to do.
He’d sort out his emotions later. The only thing that mattered right now was kissing her until they were both breathless.
But this second kiss lasted only a few moments before it, too, was interrupted. “Woo! What a show!” Junko called, sticking her head out of the living room window. “Feel free to continue! I’m making Mukuro make me popcorn in preparation just for this.”
Byakuya let out a string of expletives as he stomped off to his car, Toko following in his wake. He didn’t say a word as they both climbed inside, and stayed silent until they had left Kyoko and Makoto’s neighborhood entirely.
“Is Komaru staying the night with you?”
“No.”
“Good. You won’t have to call to tell her you aren’t coming home then.”
Her brow furrowed. “W-why wouldn’t I be going home?”
“Because.” He looked over at her in the passenger seat, giving her the barest hint of a smile that was laden with meaning. “My penthouse is closer.”