Hitoya Week 2026 - Day One: First Place
On the eve of the 2nd DRB, Hitoya reflects on what it means to truly win.
Word Count: 1,156
CW: Brief mention of suicide.
Note: Haven't got an AO3 account yet so going to post on here for now. I've never actually posted my fic before but I really wanted to give it a shot and try writing for some of these prompts, so I hope you enjoy! Also I should mention the beginning is referencing the part of the manga where Hitoya goes to confront Jakurai in Shinjuku - the first line of dialogue is lifted from that.
"The next time we meet, you'd better fight me for real, understand? And then I'm going to kick your ass."
Hitoya's biting words cut through the thick tension in the air like a knife, an empty feeling of dissatisfaction replacing it as he walked away without another word. He knew it was unproductive - especially on the eve of the Division Rap Battle - but alone in the empty hotel room, he couldn't stop repeating the scene over and over in his head as he stared vacantly at the ceiling.
His prior trip to Shinjuku hadn't made him feel any better, although he wasn't sure what he had expected: despite the show he had put on, Jakurai was as condescending as always, looking down at him from that pedestal of his that he'd never quite let anybody level with. It churned his stomach, that expression he'd seen so many times seared into his memory. Jakurai always looked at him with such… what? Hatred? Disappointment? A strange sense of… almost dejection in his glazed-over eyes. As out-of-touch as ever, and Hitoya's irritating inability to read him made bitter resentment bubble up in his stomach even more, making him feel sick.
They'd arrived in Chuohku early that morning - him, Kuko and Jyushi - in order to give themselves time to take care of any unfinished business and get some last-minute training in. The day had passed in a blur, and the sun was already starting to set on the day before the match - the big showdown where he'd finally prove himself once and for all - yet Hitoya still frustratingly felt so small, barely changed from the person he had been on that day.
…Was it going to be enough?
Outside, the surrounding cityscape began to be washed in darkness. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed how dark it had gotten. They'd been assigned rooms on a high-up floor in a sleek, modern hotel by the Party of Words, and from the window he could see fellow skyscrapers reaching for the stars as night descended on the world. But disrupting what should have been a still evening, an almost imperceptible draught rattled the windows as if something was trying to get in, spoiling the serenity and playing on his nerves more than he'd like to admit.
Trying to avert his attention from the grating noise, he turned to switch a lamp on, noticing that the hue of the room had become a melancholy grey. Yet something about that irked him too: there was something so sanitised about the fluorescent white light that it emitted, almost reminiscent of hospital lighting. And the sparsely decorated, soulless room didn't set his mind at ease either; it was a far cry from his home in Nagoya, and he longed for his shelves filled with expensive liquors and walls adorned with his beloved guitars and music memorabilia, with one spot amongst the instruments remaining forever empty, bathed in the warm ceiling lights, that he couldn't bring himself to replace. A wave of homesickness washed over him at the thought, a strange sense of despair and indignation poisoning his mind.
It was the night before the Division Rap Battle. The night before he faced Jakurai. The night before he'd get everything that he wanted.
So why did he feel so… weird? Why did that horrible lighting take him back to his days of studying with Jakurai, the seeds of animosity beginning to grow out of control? Why did the empty desk take him back to the early days he spent poring over the law, searching desperately for an answer? Why did the rhythm of the wind against the window remind him of the harrowing creaking caused by the weight of what was hanging from the rope on that fateful day?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound of someone at the door snapped him back to reality, pulling him back up from the dark pit he felt himself descending into. In the time that he took to get up and cross the room, another set of knocks pounded impatiently against the surface, and he didn't have to think too hard about who he might find on the other side.
A sliver of light reached across the floor, widening as he opened the door and illuminating where he stood like a spotlight. Eagerly awaiting him stood the figures of Kuko and Jyushi, lit up like angels in the contrast between the brightness of the corridor and his room.
"Yo!" Kuko didn't wait to be invited in, casually pushing through the half-opened door and throwing himself down onto the sofa like he owned the place.
"What do you want?" he asked, a little more brusquely than intended.
Jyushi had followed Kuko inside, now sitting politely with his hands in his lap. "Um, we were going to get some food, if you wanted to join us?"
"Thought you might be bored," Kuko followed up, glancing sideways at Hitoya as Jyushi fidgeted in his seat. He was a little skittish, understandably so, yet Kuko contrasted him as the image of confidence. "Didn't think we'd just let you sit here and sulk all evening, did ya?"
There was a mischievous glint in his eyes - as always - but it belied an air of unspoken compassion. Hitoya sighed. The two of them knew him too well - well enough to know that he probably would have just stayed and moped in his room all night, as pathetic as it was. And as much as being that well-known irked him sometimes, it held the key to the escape from a prison of his own making.
"Come on then." There was no point arguing with them. While it grated him to be seen like this, he didn't want to fight them. Didn't want to admit just how much he'd been wanting to get out of there.
"I spotted a restaurant on this street when we got here this morning." Jyushi chipped in, jumping up from his seat and practically already out of the door as Hitoya gathered his things and put his jacket on, just as eager to get moving.
"Oh, that one? There was also another one around the corner that looked good." added Kuko, putting his hands behind his head in an easygoing manner and trailing behind him.
"Let's go for a walk and make up our minds!"
"Yeah, may as well make the most of being in Chuohku while we can."
"Oh, but aren't we going to stand out…?"
"C'mon, Jyushi, when have you ever cared about that!?" Kuko laughed, slapping Jyushi on the back as the two of them waited outside for Hitoya.
Betraying himself, Hitoya couldn't help but smile as he listened to the idle chatter of his teammates. First place or not, maybe it wouldn't be so bad with those two at his side to keep life exciting. And with that, he followed them into the light, his bad mood already beginning to melt away at the sound of their laughter.
