byakuya is forbidineded

Mobile links at /links Please like/reblog my fics if you enjoy them! Livi | 1994 | she/her Just a little side blog for my fanfiction. I'll post headcanons here as well. Some fluff. Some nsfw. Some other things. COMMISSION STATUS: OPEN REQUESTS STATUS: CLOSED

[zenonaa]

livi

18+

british english

white

cis lesbian she/her

primarily writes for danganronpa, especially togafuka

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Fics of mine to read if you want to know more about the TogaFuka agenda:

Pre-despair: Glass Castles , (NSFW) can you cry because i need some spare change

Despair: Sleeping with Your Eyes Open , Like a Moth to a Flame , Filling in the Gaps, Glints, Absolutely Disgusting, (NSFW) It Takes Two

Post-killing game: After All This Time , Tremors , That’s What I Call Home , Thanks, Blood Training , here, together

Multiple periods: (NSFW) Pink Candy/Attention/Dark Grey Eyes , Fade To Black , Plastic Houses, (NSFW) The Unspectacular Love Life of Byakuya Togami

AU: Turn the Music Up , Croatian Rhapsody , Love, Love, Love, Lonely Hearts

[alien1142]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[zenonaa]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

‘Her lips curved into a smile that made his chest clench. It took Byakuya some good few seconds to realise he wasn’t breathing, then he had to remind himself to inhale, exhale and repeat. Memories of her lips locked against his bled in, of how wet and warm they had been. How they had vibrated against him as she moaned and tangled his hair between her fingers.

He could have kissed her right now. No one would see. No one would know.

But he would know.’

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Series Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Fukawa Toko/Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Fukawa Toko & Naegi Komaru, Shingetsu Nagisa & Togami Byakuya Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Toko, Kirigiri Kyoko, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Asahina Aoi (Dangan Ronpa), Hagakure Yasuhiro, more to be added, Shingetsu Nagisa, Utsugi Kotoko, Daimon Masaru (Dangan Ronpa), Kemuri Jataro Summary: When a project is set up to help rehabilitate the former Warriors of Hope, Togami finds himself the guardian of Nagisa Shingetsu. He also finds himself troubled with confusing feelings toward Fukawa...

Comments: Chapter 10! This was a bit tricky to write, and it came out a lot longer than I intended haha.

💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖

Fic under the cut!

***

Chapter 10: A Life I Never Chose

When Byakuya was a child - younger than Nagisa, his meals would sometimes be tampered with by his staff. Not all the time, but enough that he would regularly sift through his food for shards of glass and check for odd smells and discolouring. Though, even when he did find poison present, his mother would still insist he finish the meal more often than not. It was due to this training of his body that Byakuya developed some immunity to most poisons. This was also why during Sakura Oogami’s murder trial, he hadn’t been concerned about any traces being present when he drank protein from a bottle that had previously contained poison. The conglomerate had prepared him well for future assassination attempts. Not only for the poisons in food, but for the poisons in emotional bonds too.

On the morning of Byakuya’s second day at teaching, he served rice, soup, grilled salmon and fermented soy beans for breakfast. Nagisa still only grabbed himself a handful of cereal, but this time, he looked at the food, said it looked good but he wasn’t that hungry, then he bid Byakuya a pleasant morning before leaving. While Nagisa didn’t taste any of what Byakuya had made, it was a start. Better than the last couple of days, at least, when Nagisa had treated Byakuya like some mould on the wall.

Upon arrival at the main school building, Byakuya stopped by the teachers’ office. The sharp stink of cheap coffee and cologne stung his nose as soon as he walked in. Several of his coworkers were hunched over desks, scarfing down breakfast as they worked. Egg sandwiches. Onigiri. Pork buns. Byakuya’s lips pursed in disgust as he observed their greasy fingers groping their phones and laptop keyboards. Had they no shame? They had the previous evening to get all their work done in time for today.

He walked over to a desk tucked away in a far corner and pulled his laptop out of his briefcase. By the time Makoto called out for everyone's attention, Byakuya had finished checking his emails and was rereading his lesson plans.

“We’re off to a great start,” Makoto announced, sweeping his smile across the room as he slowly turned his head to look around at everyone. “Let’s keep it up. These first few weeks are going to set a precedent for the rest of the year.”

Like Makoto’s pep talk the previous day, this one was short, and Byakuya was soon making his way over to his homeroom. He had four lessons to teach before lunch. Two maths classes. One physics. One art. Then, it would be lunchtime, followed by a free period to catch up on any outstanding work... or visit the library.

Touko hadn't told him when exactly he would be able to read her I-Novel. All she said was that it needed to be ‘perfect’. Either way, there was no harm in checking up on her. Should her I-Novel not be ready yet, there were other topics they could discuss. They needed to arrange a time to finish the movie they had been watching together. Byakuya also wanted another book recommendation from her, now that he had completed ‘Confessions’. Maybe one by the same author.

But first, he had students to teach. When he strode into his homeroom, half the class were already there, all falling quiet at the sight of him.

“Are we starting already, Togami-sensei?” asked Rantaro Amami, a green-haired boy wearing a loosened tie.

“You still have five more minutes,” replied Byakuya.

Only two students were absent when attendance was taken, with the door opening about a minute afterwards. In came the missing pupils: the girl who had called him a ‘degenerate male’ the day before, and the short girl with a red bob who had complained about only wanting to learn magic.

“Why are you late?” asked Byakuya.

“Tenko was waiting at Yumeno-san’s door for her to get ready so they could go to class together,” said the taller girl, speaking in third person.

“Nyeh... It’s too early.” Himiko Yumeno yawned and rubbed her eyes. “My MP’s still not fully restored.”

Her talk of ‘MP’ reminded Byakuya of Nagisa and his talk of ‘EXP’.

“When Tenko arrived outside of Yumeno-san’s room and knocked and got no answer, Tenko thought Yumeno-san was in danger. Tenko thought she’d have to unleash her Super Aikido Punch to bust down the door and find out what was wrong,” said Tenko Chabashira, punching her palm.

“Nyeh... she was so noisy. I couldn’t go back to sleep,” said Himiko.

Byakuya didn’t know what sort of Aikido that Tenko practised, but it seemed more violent than the one he was vaguely familiar with.

“Perhaps, then, you should go to bed earlier,” Byakuya told Himiko coldly. “You should also think about how this school can only take in a certain number of students each year, and how many children were rejected during admissions while you want to waste your time, your classmates’ time and my time.”

Tenko bristled. “Hey! Yumeno-san is small and cute, so she needs all the sleep she can get to stay that way.”

The ‘small and cute’ Himiko yawned again and picked her nose.

“You are on your first warning for being late. Both of you. If you are late again this month, I will give you detention.” Byakuya pointed toward their desks. “Sit. I will write in the register that you were late.”

When he was their age, he had never been late for a single lesson. His face remained stoic as the girls whined and shuffled over to their seats. The looks that the other students exchanged didn’t go unnoticed by him, but they could think he was being too mean and strict all they liked. He wouldn’t allow them to disrespect him, their classmates or the teenagers who couldn’t enroll this year.

After homeroom, Byakuya departed for his other lessons. Mechanics: learning about units and basic formulae for constant acceleration. Statistics: going over different averages. Physics: converting various units of measurements. For Byakuya’s fourth class, he entered one of the artrooms, where he was reunited with his homeroom students. As soon as he walked in, they hushed, staring at him.

Unlike the other classrooms with their rows of spaced out desks, in here there were several tables pushed together, forming clusters that students sat around in groups. No one was sitting alone, so Byakuya decided that he didn't need to bother with a seating plan for now. A couple of art easels stood at the back of the room, and some prints of famous paintings hung on the walls. Byakuya knew the artist of each one.

“We will be drawing self-portraits today,” he said. “Feel free to use any of the utensils in the pots on your desk, or grab paints from the cupboards at the back of the room. Just make sure you set down newspaper first so you don’t make a mess of the tables, for goodness sake.”

“Aren’t you going to give us any guidance first?” piped up a serious voice. It belonged to a girl whose dark hair was styled into twintails tied up by red scrunchies. “This is our first art lesson.”

“I’m interested to see what you’re capable of creating right now,” replied Byakuya. “I will be drawing a self-portrait as well. You have forty minutes, starting now.”

The students stirred, some grabbing pencils, others rising so they could potter around the cupboards housing paints. As for Byakuya, he needed only a piece of paper and a pencil, then he got started on his own artwork. Being proficient at art wasn't a necessity for running the conglomerate, but Aloysius had persuaded Byakuya's mother to invest time into improving her son’s drawing ability. Byakuya recalled Aloysius talking about how creating art could reduce stress, enhance fine motor skills and make someone more observant. Not only that, but Byakuya had taken art classes in high school, and he was always at the top of his class in every subject.

Toward the end of the lesson, everyone showed off their self-portraits. Some were manga-style, others cartoonish and a few were attempts at realism. Not all of them were bad, but when his class saw Byakuya’s piece, all their eyes goggled and their mouths fell agape.

“It looks so realistic,” gushed the blonde pianist, Kaede Akamatsu.

“Yes, but at the same time, it’s not totally faithful to real life,” chimed in a blue-haired girl with glasses. “It has a slight Takeshi Obata vibe to it. I like it.”

“No way you did that just now. I bet you commissioned a professional to draw this some time before the lesson,” said Kaito Momota, the student with a goatee who wanted to become an astronaut one day.

Byakuya clicked his tongue. “I’m not so insecure that I would feel the need to lie about something so inconsequential to show up a group of teenagers. In my lessons, I will teach you perspective, anatomy, shading, colour... and anything else you need to know to create high-quality art. When I’m finished with you all, you will have under your belts the skills required to become elite artists.”

“What if we don’t want to be an artist?” asked a pale guy with short stature and purple eyes. “What if we want to become an evil supreme leader who’s able to force others to create art for us instead?”

“Or just type a prompt into a computer?” chimed in a blonde girl with waist-length hair and a half-buttoned up blouse.

“‘Evil supreme leader’? What are you, twelve?” Byakuya scoffed. “And prompting a computer to produce images? Seriously? That’s not art. That’s like saying you’re a chef because you play cooking video games. Art encourages self-expression, improves focus and provides you with skills you can use elsewhere. Now, make sure to hand in your art to me as you leave...”

Byakuya stood by the door as they departed from the room in single file, handing their art to him as they passed by. When they were all gone, Byakuya left too. He went to the cafeteria, but when he saw that Touko wasn’t there yet, he headed to the library, where he found her at the main desk. She looked up before he reached her and beamed. A flutter jittered in his chest that Byakuya imagined was a butterfly that he crushed in his hand. They were just going to talk. That was all.

“Byakuya-sama!” Touko called out, seemingly oblivious to how she made a nearby female student jump with her sudden volume. “How lovely it is to see you. Shall we go to the cafeteria t-together?”

“Yes, that’s why I came here. So, how are you doing with your I-Novel? Is any of it ready for me to read yet?”

The corners of Touko’s lips dipped slightly. “I tidied up a couple of pages last night, but...”

“Then I shall read a couple of pages after lunch, if that is okay with you.”

“Oh! O-Of course,” she said, her gaze flickering. Her smile shrunk for a moment, only for her to push it out wider and make eye contact. “I w-would be honoured...”

They exited the library together. The cafeteria had become slightly busier since Byakuya was there a few minutes ago, mostly with students, but there were teachers present too. At one table sat Makoto, Yasuhiro and Komaru. After Byakuya and Touko grabbed themselves their lunches, they joined the other three. Byakuya had spotted the trio on his initial visit, but judging by how little they had eaten so far, they hadn’t arrived there too long before him. Or, if they had, they had been too preoccupied with chatting amongst themselves to eat much yet.

“I never knew Komaru-chi and I had so much in common,” said Yasuhiro.

Touko glared. “W-What, are you a cradle-snatcher as well as a conman now?”

“No! Not like that!” Yasuhiro yelped, fumbling with his fork and almost dropping it into his curry udon. “I mean, we were both held back a few grades due to powers beyond our control.”

“Komaru was held hostage in Towa City against her will. You chose to try to blackmail the daughter of the Kuzuryuu Clan’s leader,” said Byakuya.

“Potato, potata, Togami-chi. We both also like manga, and we’re spiritual, ‘right? Komaru-chi can sense ghosts, like me.”

“I’m going to be working on improving my penmanship right away,” said Komaru. “Thanks, Hagakure-san. I never knew bad handwriting attracted evil ghosts.”

“No problem! And consider that bit of advice free this time, ‘right?”

Byakuya made a mental note to never leave the two of them in the same room together. He started his curry udon, and it was about five minutes later when Kyouko joined them.

“I take it Asahina has other plans, again,” remarked Byakuya. Like last time, Aoi was nowhere to be seen.

Makoto rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess so.”

“You don’t think we’ve offended her, do you?” asked Komaru.

“What? You mean by rehabilitating those responsible for her brother’s demise?” said Touko.

“Asahina-san said she fully supported our idea.” Komaru cocked her head to one side, frowning. “I’m going to stop by her place when she finishes work and talk to her. Don’t worry, Detective Komaru is on the case.”

She smiled and tapped herself on her nose with her fork, leaving behind a brown spot of curry udon.

“So far, Asahina has only missed two lunches with us,” said Byakuya. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen her at all lately, either. Aoi was in the teachers’ office this morning, wearing a bright red tracksuit. “Are you sure you’re not reading too deeply into this?”

Komaru shook her head. “It’s not just that. A week ago, I invited her to swim with me, and she said she had other plans. The week before, I asked if she wanted to check out a new dessert place with me, and she said she had a stomach ache. Asahina-san never gets stomach ache!”

Admittedly, that did sound out of character for Aoi, who Byakuya knew to like swimming, socialising and donuts. But what Touko had said was correct as well: the former Warriors of Hope had caused Aoi’s brother's death. It was one thing for Aoi to give her blessings to Komaru’s plan and another to be comfortable with it, let alone happy.

After lunch, Byakuya and Touko headed back to the library. They sat behind the front desk, and Touko pulled out a ring binder from underneath it. She slid out a sheet of paper from the first plastic wallet in her folder and set it neatly in front of herself. Printed text lined the sheet, which she proceeded to read aloud in a hushed voice.

“‘Growing up, my mothers would tell me that the doctors mistook me for a baby. That the doctors threw away a viable newborn and gave them the afterbirth - me, instead. The importance of a placenta is overlooked by many. It is a fetus’ kidneys, lungs, liver and immune system. Though, if you don’t want the baby in the first place, such as was the case with my mothers, that doesn’t matter. Afterbirths aside, there actually should - ‘”

“Um, excuse me, how do I take out a book?” asked a young girl. Touko stopped talking and sighed.

“There are instructions as you go through the self-checkout.”

The girl ambled away. As Byakuya watched her go, he noted that there were several students milling about. He assumed that at least one class had come here for their fifth period.

“Anyway,” said Touko. “Where was I? Ah, yes. ‘Afterbirths aside, there actually should have been two babies. You see, my father impregnated two different women around the same time, and - ”

“Yo, Togami-chi! Fukawa-chi!”

Byakuya cringed as Yasuhiro pranced over, waving his arm. Touko’s head jerked back like she had been shot.

“What do you want?” Touko asked, seething. “We just saw you in the cafeteria.”

“I have a free period before I’m down to teach my computer lesson. I saw you both come here so thought I’d join you guys,” explained Yasuhiro, smiling and apparently not noticing that Touko was glaring at him. “So, whatcha reading? It’s nothing too creepy, is it?”

Touko covered her sheet of paper with both hands. The grin on Yasuhiro’s face remained steadfast. Her brow puckered as she bared her teeth, but before she could snap out a retort, another voice piped up.

“Do you know where the section about graphic design is?” asked a boy. She rolled back her head and groaned.

“You can look it up on one of the many kiosks throughout the library, or go to the nonfiction area and search through the arts section for it.”

The boy didn’t move. “Can you help me? Please?”

Byakuya held back a sigh.

“You should go help him,” he told Touko before standing up. “I’ll come by here tomorrow and we can pick up where we left off then. I’m distracting you from your work, and I need to get ready for my next lesson anyway.”

Technically, Byakuya was already prepared, but he supposed he could reread his lesson plan. They weren’t getting anywhere like this, and he didn’t care to have Yasuhiro hanging around them while they went through Touko’s I-Novel.

Touko deflated. “Okay, Byakuya-sama. I’ll see you later, then...”

Yasuhiro accompanied Byakuya out of the library, leaving Touko to help the student with his request. As they headed in the direction of the teachers’ office, Yasuhiro nudged Byakuya’s shoulder with his own.

“Sorry, Togami-chi. I didn’t mean to disrupt you back there. I was trying to help you out, honest.”

Byakuya’s face scrunched in annoyance. They had been perfectly fine before Yasuhiro showed up. He walked faster, forcing Yasuhiro to quicken his pace to catch up. 

Waiting until tomorrow was no big deal. Thinking about it, doing so actually benefitted Byakuya, because it gave him the chance to rethink the time and place of their next meeting. During his free period in the library opened them up for all sorts of bothersome intrusions, but after work, he was supposed to be looking after Nagisa. And Touko had Jataro... 

He could think about it more later. After he finished work.

His last class was Japanese literature. The school was fortunate to employ someone as versatile as Byakuya, able to masterfully teach a range of subjects. For this lesson, they went over an abridged history of their country’s literature, with their homework being to research the Nara period in more detail in preparation for their next lesson with him.

Then, Byakuya checked in on his homeroom, and then he returned home to prepare dinner for himself and Nagisa, and all he had to do was this for the rest of his life.

***

On the morning of Byakuya’s third day at teaching, he opted for a more Western breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns and toast. Nagisa helped himself to some toast, then they walked to school together. Once there, Nagisa branched off toward his homeroom while Byakuya stopped by the teachers’ office.

Many of his co-workers were in the midst of their breakfasts, chewing and typing as Makoto delivered his latest speech.

“Welcome to day three, everyone,” said Makoto, his sunny voice ringing across the room. “There’s a saying about the number three. It goes, ‘three years on a stone.’ It refers to how even a cold stone will warm up if you sit on it for three years. So if we keep up the good work, our perseverance will pay off.”

Heads nodded around the room. A few people clapped. Byakuya could have rolled his eyes and scoffed, but he restrained himself to pressing his lips together tightly. If the others found Makoto’s little motivational speeches encouraging, so be it. Perhaps they might start taking more pride in their work, instead of eating to-go breakfasts and doing last-minute work at their desks.

When Byakuya walked into his homeroom a little later, he noted that all of his students were present and already seated. They must have taken what he said about respecting others’ time to heart. Good. Byakuya gave a small smile.

“What’s with the scary look on your face?” asked a pale guy with dark hair. Shuichi Saihara was his name.

“He looks pretty perverted if you ask me,” said the wannabe supreme leader, Kokichi Ouma.

Byakuya was no longer smiling. The girl who had spoken about prompting a computer to produce art the previous day, Miu Iruma, snorted with laughter.

“It’s always the guys with somethin’ up their ass that are the dirtiest. Being the gorgeous girl genius I am, I’m gonna be getting A’s in all my classes, so the only ‘F’s you’re gonna see me ever have in class are my twin girls, Togami-sensei,” she said, gesturing to her chest.

“That’s completely vile. Behave yourselves, all of you. This is not an appropriate way to talk to anyone,” said Byakuya with a glare.

“But it can’t be worse than what you’ve heard before. I mean, you used to hang out with Genocider Syo all the time back in the killing game television show, right?” said Tsumugi Shirogane matter-of-factly as she adjusted her glasses. Her blue hair shimmered slightly when she nodded her head. “I remember in the uncut version of episode six, you arrived to breakfast with Genocider Syo and she announced to everyone that she was wearing red lingerie. You ran out of the cafeteria with terrifying speed soon after that. My friends and I had a heated debate on what she meant and your reaction.”

Horror wrung tightly in Byakuya’s chest. His hands trembled. He widened his eyes for no more than a moment before furrowing his brow.

“Genocider was making a crude joke to try to get a rise out of me,” he said, his heart pounding. “I will take attendance today, and if any of you say anything other than ‘present’, I will give you detention.”

That shut them up. Byakuya managed to keep a straight face for the rest of homeroom despite how his stomach had hardened after what Tsumugi said. Why had Genocider Syo felt the need to announce her lingerie to everyone that morning? Why hadn’t Touko changed out of them? He remembered how before they went to breakfast together, Syo had skipped up to him and babbled about finding ‘new evidence’ and wanting him to tell her about it. If Tsumugi’s peers had interpreted that incident to mean he was sexual with Touko, what did that say of his friends? None of them ever outright said anything, but had they considered it? Assumed it?

Byakuya didn’t want to dwell on that now. While he would have preferred to be by himself for a while to cool off and recompose himself properly, he had an English class to teach. Still, that wasn’t so bad. It gave him something else to focus on, and these students didn’t make disturbing comments to him. He followed the lesson plans like a script for a play, not having to think about anything else. English, mathematics, chemistry and history, and then it was lunchtime.

As soon as he entered Touko’s sight, she jumped up.

“I’m ready to go to lunch with you!” she announced.

“Actually, I had food leftover from breakfast, so I brought some for my lunch and thought we could share it while we talked,” he told her.

“Huh?” Touko’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Share?”

“Let’s go somewhere quiet where we won’t be disturbed. I think the roof will suffice. What do you say?”

Despite the prevalence of high school students hanging out on roofs in anime, the ones at Hope’s Peak were behind locked access doors. However, with Byakuya and Touko being members of staff, both had authority to go up there. Touko’s eyebrows lowered. She nodded, blushing.

“I’d love to go there with you, Byakuya-sama.”

They stopped by the teachers’ office to collect his lunch from the fridge. The walk to the stairwell leading to the roof totaled approximately two minutes. At the top, Byakuya unlocked the door with his keycard, and the pair stepped out into sunlight. There wasn’t much in the way for them to sit on. No benches. No table and chair. Which was expected, as hardly anyone went up here. Only maintenance workers, really. Steel railings bordered the perimeter of the roof, with vertical gaps narrow enough to prevent anyone from slipping through but wide enough to look into.

As they walked further in, Byakuya was granted a view of the school grounds. He could see the main courtyard, with a fountain in the centre and a dozen or so students littered about, eating outside rather than in the cafeteria. Beyond that was fencing, then beyond that was the city with its hodgepodge of buildings. Some towering, others stout. Some old, most of them relatively new.

“We’ll have to either stand or sit on the floor,” remarked Touko, looking around. “If you want to sit on my jacket so you don’t get your trousers dirty, t-that’s fine with me.”

It was a tempting offer. Byakuya hadn’t considered where they’d sit.

“I can dust myself off,” he said, kneeling down by the railings. The floor wasn’t too dirty. Touko followed suit, adjusting her skirt as she settled next to him. “But thanks, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling.

His heart stuttered. He looked away and reminded himself that it was okay his body had reacted that way. Homeroom had agitated him earlier. Stressed him. This was all part of learning how to endure the weird warmth Touko ignited in his chest, and to help him stop associating being stressed with wanting to kiss her.

“Would you rather eat or read to me first?” he asked.

“Oh, um... I’ll read to you first, please.”

Touko opened her binder, took out the first sheet of paper and straightened it out. As she started to read aloud, her voice wavered like the wind trembling over them. Byakuya ate as he listened. While he had heard the first few paragraphs the day before, with no students or Yasuhiro present to interrupt them this time, Touko could now speak without her flow being broken.

Since yesterday, she had edited some more, which she also narrated to him.

“‘I make friends with insects and with the rot in my bedroom's floorboards. Their discoloured streaks and smears resemble faces. Usually screaming, always silent, much like me. One day, the floor may collapse beneath me and pull me to my demise, and the insects will feast on my corpse. I often think that would be the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.’”

A strong breeze lapped against them. Touko shivered and shifted toward Byakuya. Though he noticed, he didn’t move away, chewing on cold bacon.

“T-That’s all I’ve edited so far,” she said, before taking a deep breath. “So... what do you think?”

Byakuya finished chewing and swallowed. Touko didn’t avert her gaze from him. She might not even have been breathing as she waited for his verdict.

“I would like to hear more of it, whenever it’s ready,” he said. “It’s interesting. You’re interesting.”

The last two words slipped out of his mouth. He felt his cheeks burn. Which was absurd, because he had only called her interesting. Multiple things interested him. True crime. Certain movies. Certain books. Her. Yet she gasped and straightened up, shaking and looking like she was about to cry.

“T-Thank you!” Touko sniffled. “I was so scared that you would tear me apart. It means so much to me that you liked what I wrote. And... And I think you’re interesting too, Byakuya-sama.”

Touko’s shoulders twitched as she almost choked on a sob. Byakuya remained silent, partly to allow her to recollect herself but also because he didn’t know what to say. She was crying, which suggested she was sad, but she was also smiling and her crying sounded sort of like laughing. He didn’t know whether he should have comforted her or not. But then, he didn’t know how to comfort someone. A pat on the head? A soothing phrase? A hug? That was what he had seen others do.

“What about your childhood?” said Touko, calming down enough to talk again. “I’m sure you have a lot of stories to share about that...”

Byakuya hesitated, thinking.

“Fine. I’ll tell you.” It was a fair trade. Quid pro quo. He passed her the fork. “It’s your turn to eat.”

She took the utensil from him and helped herself to a hash brown. In hindsight, he should have reheated the food in the teachers’ office’s microwave, but she didn’t complain. His lips twisted in thought as he tried to decide where to start from. There was when he became the only heir to the conglomerate, but there was also his birth, and his conception, as well as generations of family history. He thought back to what she had said about her upbringing and used that as a starting point.

“My creation was intended,” he said slowly. “The conglomerate assembled a list of high-quality women to produce a potential heir with my father, and I was the youngest. In the Togami Family’s history, the youngest had never won the heir selection competition, yet I did.”

Whenever Byakuya spoke about his life growing up, it always related to his journey to becoming the future head of the conglomerate. Even now, as he went on to tell Touko about his accomplishments, such as learning to play a multitude of instruments and speak twenty-eight languages fluently, those things had all gone toward bettering him for when he took over his family business. Every aspect of his life had contributed to sculpting him into being the ideal successor.

“Let’s see, what else...” He stroked his chin. “My mansion was kept clean by maids. All my meals were prepared by professional chefs. Until high school, I was tutored by Pennyworth alongside top-tier teachers handpicked by the conglomerate.”

“Did you have any friends, Byakuya-sama?” asked Touko. Byakuya took the fork she had been using.

“No.” He fed himself some bacon. “I was taught not to indulge in emotional bonds or friendships. Anyone could be an enemy trying to kidnap or kill me. My half-siblings. My peers. My employees. I’ve told you about the girl with the explosive chocolate and the guy who wanted me to give his father a job. Those were just two of many.”

And then, before the earthquake room in the museum knocked them off balance, Touko had told Byakuya that she understood how it felt to never be able to trust anyone else.

“I remember when Enoshima trapped us in Hope’s Peak, you told everyone you didn’t want to join us for meals anymore fairly early on. You said someone might poison the food ahead of time.” Touko borrowed the fork to eat a bit of egg. “Something clicked into place in me at that moment. While the others were struggling to understand your way of thinking, I... I understood you. And I thought you could understand me. That’s why I told you about Genocider Syo. You’re different to everyone I have ever met. You’re special.”

Her lips curved into a smile that made his chest clench. It took Byakuya some good few seconds to realise he wasn’t breathing, then he had to remind himself to inhale, exhale and repeat. Memories of her lips locked against his bled in, of how wet and warm they had been. How they had vibrated against him as she moaned and tangled his hair between her fingers.

He could have kissed her right now. No one would see. No one would know.

But he would know.

“I look forward to hearing more of your I-Novel,” he said stiffly. “Not only do you tell it with exceptional prose, but the contents of it has me intrigued to hear more, too.”

The more time they spent together, the better he could train himself to resist and unlearn these compulsions toward her. He could conquer these feelings of disgust and desires that made him want to drown himself and kiss her and other dirty things. But he wasn't lying about wanting to hear more of her I-Novel. Strange sensations aside, he enjoyed her company. She was clever. She was interesting.

“I can work on more for you. And... I would like to hear more about you,” said Touko. “Perhaps you could write something similar about yourself? Then we can read to each other. Only if you want to, of course!”

“I’m a very busy man, Fukawa,” he replied. Her smile sagged. He didn’t have any food in his mouth, but he still swallowed before adding, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Touko’s smile returned at full strength. Byakuya stiffened. His heart palpitated. His fingers twitched against his lap. Between the two of them, they had finished his lunch, the plastic container by their feet. He wanted to throw his meal back up. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her hand and tear off his skin.

“Byakuya-sama? Are you...?”

“I'm fine,” he blurted. “Let me just check my schedule for tomorrow.”

Feeling her gaze burning into him, he got out his phone, checked the screen and widened his eyes.

“I’m due to teach in eight minutes.”

An hour and a half. They had somehow been up here for almost an hour and a half.

“I need to get going. Let’s meet at the library and come here again tomorrow,” he said, standing up. “We’ll pick up where we left off.”

“Okay! And... And I’ll bring lunch for both of us, this time,” she said, rising as well. “If that’s acceptable.”

“Then it’s agreed. So... I’ll be seeing you around.”

“R-Right.”

They both stood facing each other. Byakuya balled and unballed his fists. Then, he turned on his heel and walked away briskly, hoping the warmth on his face would cool off before he reached his next class.

Finally, he was almost done with this day. After the sixth period, he would need to stop by his homeroom, then go home to prepare dinner for himself and Nagisa. And then he needed to mark classwork, and go over his lesson plans, and write something for Touko, and all he had to do was that for the rest of his life.

***

By the ninth day, Byakuya had written a couple of paragraphs to share with Touko. Of course, his piece wasn’t as eloquent as what Touko could write. But that was to be expected. Byakuya had done some creative writing at school and earned top grades, but his writings lacked the magnetism that Touko’s works carried. He could accurately describe a rock that he found on the ground, while Touko could convince someone that it was more valuable than a diamond. Compared to her, his prose was hollow and dull.

Still, he had told her that he would write something, and he intended to keep his promise.

For breakfast, he ate omelettes with Nagisa, and later he listened to Makoto's newest pep talk before heading off to do homeroom. For the next four lessons, Byakuya recited what he had prepared the day before, then at the start of lunchtime, he dismissed his class and went to the library.

“Good afternoon, Byakuya-sama,” said Touko, already on her feet. She had her binder wedged between her side and arm, and in her hands she held two bento boxes.

They set off together. Byakuya said, “I have written something for you today.”

Touko’s head jerked up excitedly. “Ah! I c-can’t wait to hear it.”

After their first visit to the roof, Byakuya had brought up two deck chairs from a storage room, leaving them leaned against the rooftop enclosure when not in use. He dragged them out and unfolded them when they arrived, sitting on one while Touko sat in the other. With her binder resting shut on her lap, she opened one of the bento boxes. Today, she had prepared what looked like a colourful salad, sashimi, strawberries and onigiri shaped like hearts.

Byakuya accepted the bento. Touko unveiled hers. She had the same.

“It’s peaceful up here,” she remarked, plucking up an onigiri with her chopsticks.

He gave a hum of agreement. Other than the occasional shout drifting up, he could hear only the breeze and themselves. Chewing on some sashimi, he glanced at Touko. Their eyes met and she smiled. His stomach jolted and he averted his gaze.

Once he had finished his bento, he took out a piece of paper from his jacket.

“I’ve been working on this on and off this week, whenever I’ve had a spare moment,” he said.

With his workdays being as hectic as they were, he only really had a chance to get much writing done after dinnertime. At that time, Nagisa and Byakuya would retreat to their own rooms, with Byakuya either at his desk or sitting on his bed with his laptop. Then later, when Byakuya turned off the lights, he would lie awake, his thoughts racing until he drifted to sleep.

Touko watched him intently as he began to read aloud to her.

“‘With every challenge my father set us, our number whittled down until fifteen remained. Each competitor was then kidnapped in the middle of the night and taken to a remote island, forced to complete a scavenger hunt. The winner would become the conglomerate’s rightful heir. The others would become nameless. Nobodies.’”

Until now, when Byakuya had spoken of the competition to other people, he hadn’t gone into much detail. He had competed against his siblings in a battle and in the end, only he remained standing. That had been the gist.

“To be a nobody is considered a fate equal to death. That is why they started murdering each other. Some were burned alive. Others stabbed, or bludgeoned, or even poisoned. I stumbled upon one of my half-siblings in a pool of her own blood, half-dead with an eye gouged out and an arm and a hand hacked off. Ultimately, I was victorious, all without killing a single person.”

But was that true? By defeating his half-siblings, had he not sentenced them to death? Or even, a fate worse than death: he stripped them of their identity.

“S-So... when you entered Enoshima's killing game, you had already experienced something similar.” Touko bit her lip and fidgeted her chopsticks. “Was it... hard?”

“No, it wasn't. I completed every task with ease.”

She shook her head. “I mean, what happened to your siblings. Were you sad? Or...?”

He blinked. No one had ever asked him about that before. In fact, he had never even thought about it to himself. Not at the time, and not more than half a decade later.

“I couldn't be sad. I couldn't be scared, or regret or feel anything,” he said. “To do so would ensure my demise.”

“It must have taken a great deal of strength to make yourself not feel anything,” remarked Touko. She quirked half a smile. “Meanwhile, I struggle to keep my emotions inside. I experience them so intensely, t-they sort of just... gush out of me. It's quite pathetic, right?”

Byakuya's younger self would have agreed with Touko. But since then, he had learned better. He had seen Aoi willing to sacrifice herself and the others due to her feelings toward Sakura. He heard Makoto's impassioned speeches that stirred all those that heard them. He had seen hope triumph over worldwide despair. And Touko...

“It is due to your emotions that not only have you survived for so long, but that I am still alive. Your devotion to me led you to Towa City, where you saved me. They don't make you weak, but give you strength,” he said.

Touko clasped her hands together and smiled. “W-Well, you make me want to be strong, and be the best version of myself. Rather than me wishing for someone to be my knight and save me, I... I want to be strong enough to be depended on. Don’t get me w-wrong, our other friends inspire me too... especially Komaru... but you’re different. You’re special. I...”

Her head leaned toward Byakuya. Nausea heaved through him. If he stayed as he was, she would have most likely closed the gap between them. Pressed her lips onto his own. Her damp, rosy lips. And he could have kissed her back and held her hand like Togamis didn’t do. 

But he was a Togami. The conglomerate had been massacred, but so long as he lived, it would continue on through him.

“Fukawa, it’s your turn to read your excerpt to me,” he said.

She paused, blinked, then receded.

“Yes, Byakuya-sama,” she said, before opening her binder.

As Byakuya listened to Touko, he tried to focus on her voice and not on his heart drumming furiously in his chest. His lips tingled even after he wetted them with his tongue. But this was fine. He had survived worse. All he had to do was this for the rest of his life.

***

Around the twentieth day after the school term started, Byakuya prepared himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast before going to work. Sitting in a corner of the room, he waited for Makoto to give one of his speeches.

“Hello, everyone!” Makoto called out across the teachers’ office, smiling and waving. “It’s a brand new day. Let’s all strive to do our best. I’m proud of all of you. Keep it up, seriously.”

Byakuya taught three lessons and spent his fourth period going over the plans for his last two classes. He had gone through them the previous night, but not as thoroughly as he could have. Whenever he had attempted to refamiliarise himself with the lesson plans, his gaze would often end up drifting away from his laptop. Before trying to concentrate again, he had needed to either pace or check his phone, and even that didn’t always work the first time. It must have been because he had so much on his mind lately. That was what was creating the fog in his brain.

Still, he could power through it. Coffee helped, too.

At lunchtime, he headed to the library, and he and Touko made their way to the roof. In her bentos today, there was fried chicken, rice, shredded cabbage and peppers.

A pleasant breeze passed over the pair. He had almost finished eating when he noticed Touko watching him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. She cringed.

“It’s nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“You were staring at me.”

Touko looked down at the bento box, rolling her chopsticks between her fingers. “Seeing you eat my food... just m-makes me happy.”

“I’ve been eating your lunches for several weeks now already. Surely the novelty has worn off.”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “You see... i-it’s because each time you eat some, it s-shows me that you still trust me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be eating my food.”

Byakuya tensed. His mother had ingrained into him from a young age the importance of checking his food in case it had been compromised. Yet here he was, accepting Touko’s meals without a second thought. He forced himself to chew and swallow. The inside of his mouth tasted of rot. 

“After what we have all been through, I have acquired a level of trust for who I see as friends,” he said. “That includes you. Now, make sure you eat as well.”

It was true that he had come to trust his friends. He had trusted Makoto with his plan to rehabilitate the former Remnants of Despair, for one. Then, with Touko, he had entrusted her and Komaru with protecting Towa City. Over time, Touko had shown herself to be a very capable, dependable person. Which was almost funny, because she had an alter who spoke about wanting to murder him, yet that no longer concerned him. When Touko promised she wouldn’t allow Syo to kill again, she had kept that vow. And when he found out the conglomerate’s fate, when he lost his riches and influence and meant nothing to the world, she still followed him. Stayed at his side.

Touko had said that Byakuya was different to anyone that she had ever met, and he thought the same of her. Whereas love was a weakness in anyone else, she was capable of using hers to make her stronger. And no one else made him feel as warm as she did. Made him feel so ill, so excited, made him look forward to their lunchtimes together but at the same time want to throw himself off the roof whenever she smiled at him.

As they continued eating, he couldn’t shake off the itching in his skin.

All he had to do was this for the rest of his life.

***

Two months after the first school term started, Byakuya stopped by a convenience store, buying himself a hot ham and cheese sandwich and a coffee. He managed to eat it all before arriving at work, finishing his beverage at a desk in the teachers’ office while Makoto did his usual morning announcement.

“In a bit over a month, we’ll finally break for summer,” said Makoto. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re all looking forward to getting some vitamin sea at the beach.”

A couple of staff members laughed. Byakuya didn’t look up from his lesson plan.

Since the school year commenced, his homeroom had barely changed. The noticeboard at the back of the room had flyers pinned to it now, but the room was floored with the same wooden paneling. And the same cream walls penned them in, day after day after day. When Korekiyo Shinguji took attendance, he read all the names in the same order.

No one lesson was exactly the same as they progressed through the syllabuses with all their various sub-topics. Still, Byakuya taught his classes with ease. All he had to do was follow the teaching plans, which he either ran through the night before, prior to Makoto’s morning announcement or during his free periods. Easy. Even if he had to stay up late to fit in preparing lesson plans, marking classwork and homework, working on his writing for Touko and looking after Nagisa. He could more than manage all this.

Easy. Simple. All he had to do was that for the rest of his life.

***

A week later, Byakuya ate oatmeal and sipped coffee at a desk in the teachers’ office. Makoto’s voice droned in the background, but Byakuya tuned him out, preoccupied with reading through lesson plans. When everyone else stirred, Byakuya rose with them, and he was almost out the door when Yasuhiro grabbed his upper arm.

“Yo, Togami-chi! I was wondering if you and Fukawa-chi want to join us for lunch today? We’ve barely seen either of you lately.”

“We all work together and live in the same building,” Byakuya pointed out.

“That’s true...” Yasuhiro scratched the top of his head. “Everyone has just been so busy. Asahina-chi, you, Fukawa-chi, Komaru... I was thinking, when we break up for summer, you, me and Naegi-chi should go out drinking and catch up.”

Byakuya considered his options. Yasuhiro probably wouldn’t let him go until he gave him some kind of compromise. “We can go out for an evening at the end of term, maybe.”

“Sweet! And lunch?”

“Not today.” Byakuya’s eyes flickered. “I’m busy.”

Jerking his arm away from Yasuhiro’s hold, he strode briskly toward his homeroom. Yasuhiro called after him, but he didn’t follow Byakuya.

***

At the beginning of July, despite the air conditioning, almost every desk in the teachers’ office had a desk fan humming. Byakuya rubbed his eyes before continuing to scan through his first lesson’s teaching plan. Within a few bullet points, the words wobbled on his screen. Scrunching his face, he massaged his eyes again. Perhaps he needed more coffee.

Then Makoto said, “This is hell

***

Then Makoto said, “This is hello to everyone and a big thank you for all your hard work. The school couldn’t run without you.”

And all Byakuya had to do was this for the rest of his life.

***

Byakuya woke up.

Byakuya went to work.

Byakuya had lunch with Touko.

Byakuya went home.

Byakuya slept.

All Byakuya had to do was this for the rest of his life.

***

Byakuya woke up.

Went to work.

Had lunch with Touko.

Went home.

Slept.

***

Wake.

Work.

Touko.

Home.

Sleep.

***

Work.

Touko.

Home.

***

Touko.

***

Touko.

***

Touko.

***

“Byakuya-sama, are you all right?” asked Touko.

“Hm?”

He was on the roof with Touko, two parasols set up to cast shade over their chairs. His bento box was open on his lap. The contents had been disturbed by his chopsticks, stirred around more than eaten.

“You looked like you were zoning out,” she said, frowning. “Are you feeling okay? D-Do you need some water? Somewhere to lie down?”

“I’m fine,” he said. He imitated a smile.and popped a potsticker into his mouth.

All Byakuya had to do was this for the rest of his life.

***

For the rest of his life.

***

For the rest of his life.

***

For the rest of his life.

***

Fukawa.

***

Fukawa.

***

Fukawa...

***

“Fukawa!”

Byakuya arched his back and gasped. His toes curled. His bed creaked. Pulsations tore through him, hot and fast and overwhelming. He continued to jerk his hand against himself, trembling until the throbbing in his lower body trickled off and he finally became still, feeling warm and sticky and gross.

Lifting his hand, he grimaced at his dirtied palm. All he had to do was this for the rest of his life.

[darkspaceboytoy]

I think fanfic as your primary writing and reading background really sets you up to fail because there’s so many inherent crutches to fanfic. You don’t have to make characters enjoyable because the work’s already been done, you don’t have to describe appearances or locations or motivations because the work’s already been done, conflicts come pre-established and relationship dynamics have already been laid out. And none of this is a knock on fanfic, I am not saying fanfic is bad. But if that’s all you’ve written and largely all you’ve read then I think it’s gonna be a rough transition to original fiction, and I think you need to take some time first to familiarize yourself original works again.

[zenonaa]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

'“He likes the parts of me that I want him to see, and the same goes both ways. He’s always actin’ tough and mysterious, and all masculine and stuff, which is fun and all... but there’s only one person who’s seen all of me, and it ain’t him, or even my dad or my therapist. It’s you. You get me and I get you.” Her hand receded from Dean’s hair, and she rested her palm against his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering away. “But...” he started, only for Sirena to clench him harder and make him cut himself off with a gasp. “Do you ever feel lonely, even when you’re never alone?” she asked, her voice wavering partway through. Dean swallowed. “Yes. All the time.”'

Fandom: The Venture Bros. (Cartoon) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sirena Ong/Dean Venture Characters: Sirena Ong, Dean Venture Additional Tags: Mentioned Hank/Sirena, Mentioned Brock & Rusty & Hank & Jared, Takes place during The Forecast Manufacturer, Character Study Summary: A prelude to that one scene at the end of The Forecast Manufacturer. Comments: I recently finished binging The Venture Bros and thoroughly enjoyed it! It's such a shame that Season 8 was cancelled. I read an interview where the creators talked about Sirena and what she did with Dean, and I thought it would be interesting to write a fic showing what might have happened between them and why. This isn't to justify what transpired. Just to explain and give possible context. I think they're both traumatised and messed up individuals. Which I am a sucker for, haha.

💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖 💓 It would mean a lot to me! 💓

***

Dean liked Sirena. Which was good, because she was dating his brother and they were enrolled in the same science class at college. Botany. In fact, they were the only two students taking the class.

Sitting on the other side of the classroom to her would have been weird and rude, so Dean always chose to seat himself next to Sirena, barely within elbow-brushing distance. Not because he thought she smelled bad or anything - despite having gills on her neck and a father that was part-whale, she didn’t smell like the sea or fish or whatever. Whales were mammals, not fishes, Dean knew that, but they were in close proximity and whales didn’t have gills yet Sirena did. She carried an aroma of mandarin orange with notes of lavender and... ginger? Whatever it was, it smelled nice. Nor was her skin covered in spikes or fire or anything that Dean could be allergic to.

Simply, Dean had no reason to sit any closer. It didn’t even occur to him. The two were near enough to share notes and chat, which was all that mattered. They talked about classwork and homework, and they also ranted about their fathers, the futures that said fathers intended for them and how they had grown to detest the world of supervillains and super-science.

Sirena and Dean had a lot in common. Yes, she swore liberally and knew profanity that his learning bed never taught him, and yes, she was the daughter of a Level Ten villain. But they both wanted to be normal people with normal lives and most importantly of all, they both loved Hank. Except Sirena loved Hank in a girlfriend-boyfriend way, while Dean loved Hank in a twin brother way. Even if Hank sometimes - okay, often drove him mad.

But apparently him and Sirena had that in common too, sort of.

“I swear, I almost maced him,” said Sirena as they entered Dean’s dormitory together. She shed off her coat, which Dean took from her and hung up on a hook. Some snow sprinkled off her outerwear onto the floor. “Thanks, Dean. So anyways, it’s getting dark and I’m standin’ there, my finger burnin’ on the trigger hotter than the worst diarrhea I've ever had, when Hank pulls back his hood and says he got me flowers.”

The graphic simile made Dean’s nose wrinkle a bit. She was definitely Hank’s girlfriend.

“That’s just typical Hank for you,” he said lightly, shutting the door. “He probably got the idea from Dermott or one of Brock’s magazines. Or a grown-up movie.”

“Grown-up movie, right.” Something about what he said had Sirena smiling slightly, but it didn’t last long. She soon pulled a face. “That’s the thing with boys. Instead of listening to us about what we actually like, they circlejerk each other with their own dumb ideas. They think they know how girls think better than us girls know ourselves.”

Dean could glean what she meant by ‘circlejerk’, despite being unfamiliar with the term. He dragged the chair by Jared’s desk over to his own so he would be able to sit with her while they worked on today’s classwork together.

“Not all guys think that way,” Dean said, a bit defensively. Her eyes flashed wider, but he was already explaining himself before he could take in her reaction. “Hank means well, I promise. Yeah, he can be a little eccentric and come up with some truly ridiculous ideas, but he doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just how his brain works.”

Sirena’s face relaxed. “Oh yeah. Right. Sorry, sorry. I know not all guys are like that. Hank’s a good guy. And so are you. You’re a real gentleman.”

“Um, thanks, Sirena,” said Dean, his face warming at the compliment. When she grinned again, wider this time, his heart skipped. He busied his eyes and hands with his satchel, which Hank and Brock referred to as a ‘big purse’. “Shall we get started on today’s assignment?”

“Sure. Not like there’s much else to do with a freaking blizzard going on outside,” Sirena said with a shrug. She sat on the other chair by his desk, reached into her bag and took out her textbooks.

All classes that day had been cancelled due to a sudden snowstorm. Originally, Dean had planned to stay in his dormitory alone to do his college work, but then Sirena texted him, asking if he was up for a study session. Because she hadn’t checked her phone that morning, or last night, she hadn’t read the group message from the college about how classes weren’t on until she had already arrived at campus.

And Dean had accepted her request, because she was his friend and Hank’s girlfriend. They had done plenty of study sessions together... just in the library instead of his room. But the library was closed too, so his room it was. As they worked through Professor Von Helping’s worksheets, Dean felt his heart rate steady and his face cool off. He didn’t mean to get flustered by Sirena. During their first lesson together, she had pecked him on the cheek after he convinced the Monarch to leave their class alone, and his trousers had tented up. Fortunately, Sirena seemed to have left the room without noticing this, but it had played on his mind for weeks afterwards. Even now, sometimes. 

Dean had feared that things would become awkward between them, like she would watch footage of him later that day or read his mind with Aquaman-esque telepathy powers and find out what his no-nos did when she kissed him. Or Dr. Orpheus would appear to Sirena in a dream and announce it to her. However, the next time they met up again for class, Sirena acted like her normal self. Warm, bubbly, nice. And that helped Dean act like his normal self.

Hank was lucky to have a girlfriend like Sirena. Hank was lucky in many ways. He could date whoever he wanted, even a supervillain’s daughter. Making friends came so easily to Hank, while Dean felt like an alien around most other people. Hank could go out and get any job he desired, so long as he had the appropriate qualifications. Though, sometimes even that didn’t matter, as he had a knack for blagging his way into getting what he wanted. The guy could prance around in public wearing a Batman mask without a care in the world. All the while Dean had to go to college so his father could try to sculpt him into another version of himself. Almost like he was his father’s clone, instead of his own person.

“Okay, shoot. Name a difference between eukaryotes and prokaryotes,” said Sirena. Dean stirred slightly.

“Well, eukaryotes in plants have chloroplasts, for one.”

“That was probably too easy, huh? ‘Specially for a genius like yourself.” Sirena’s eyes flitted to the window. “It’s getting real intense out there. I can’t see a thing.”

Dean followed her gaze. From where he sat, the window looked like it was full of static. He squinted, trying to make out the scenery outside, but he could barely see anything. Not even when he got up and almost pressed his nose against the glass.

“You’re right,” he said. “Wow...”

“It’s gonna be a bitch walkin’ home in that tonight,” Sirena said. His head jerked back.

“You can’t walk home in that,” replied Dean incredulously, turning to her. “It’s not safe. You won’t be able to see beyond a few inches ahead of yourself. You could walk into a lamp post, or fall down a rabbit hole, or step on a landmine, or ... or anything!”

Dean threw out his arms. Meanwhile, Sirena folded hers over her chest, looking unimpressed.

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I think I can avoid steppin’ on landmines.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to suggest that about you at all. You’re plenty smart. But eyesight is eyesight. It has got nothing to do with intelligence. Not that I think your eyesight is bad. Your eyes are good. They look great. They remind me of a clear noon sky... Urgh.” He cringed and slapped himself on the forehead. “You know what I mean. It’ll be hard to see anything, for you, me, and anyone unless they have super-vision. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”

“You need to stop apologisin’, Dean.” But she was smiling. “It’s okay. I understand what you’re tryin’ to say.”

“S- Okay.” Dean breathed. “I’ll try.”

“Suppose the blizzard doesn’t let up, though. Where am I supposed to go if it’s too dangerous to go outside?”

He frowned and scratched his chin in thought.

“You could stay here. Jared won’t be back any time soon, so you could have his bed.” But then, recalling a certain mutation of Jared’s, Dean added quickly, “On second thought, my bed’s cleaner, so you should take mine and I’ll sleep in his.”

It would be mortifying if Sirena went into Jared’s bed and there was web residue in the sheets. Not only that, but those two were exes. Hank would kill Dean if he let that happen, much like he would kill Dean if something bad happened to Sirena on her way home. Hank really cared about Sirena. Was head over heels for her. Even faced off against Wide Wale and his cronies to try to win her hand. And as neither twin had any clones to fall back on, Dean saw no reason to risk Hank’s wrath.

Yes, the right thing to do was let Sirena sleep in his bed while Dean braved Jared’s.

“You’d really let me stay here?” asked Sirena. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Of course. You’re family now,” said Dean. Which was true. She was dating Hank, after all. “And Jared’s not due back until at least tomorrow evening, assuming the storm’s done by then. He’s off auditioning to be in some stage show."

“Family,” Sirena repeated thoughtfully, like she was tasting the word for the first time and it tasted like something nice, like ice cream. She smiled. “Yeah. I guess we are, huh?”

They continued through the worksheets together. Professor Von Helping hadn’t set them a lot to do. Between the two of them, they breezed through the answers, but the off-topic conversations that sprung up between them slowed their pace. Books. Movies. Their lives. Dean wasn’t used to this. Talking to someone who understood his situation, who didn’t treat him like the esteemed heir to VenTech Industries or someone to kidnap to get to his father.

By the time they finished the last question on the final worksheet, the sky, snowy though it still was, had darkened considerably. Sirena threw down her pen.

“Argh, my brain feels like it’s ready to burst.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched out her limbs. “Do you mind if I have a quick shower? I need to submerge myself in water every six hours or so. It’s a mutant thing.”

Dean pointed across the room. “We have an ensuite bathroom. Help yourself. And don’t worry about Jared barging in. Even if he did come back early, I hooked a tie on the outside door handle when we first came in so no one would disrupt our study session.”

“Really? That was very thoughtful of you.” She sounded genuine. Looked genuine too. “Thanks, Dean.”

Sirena disappeared into the bathroom. Now alone, Dean lay down on his bed and sighed, staring up the ceiling. His ears pricked at the sound of water coming on in the other room. She was probably getting into the stall right now. Was probably naked too. As soon as he thought that, Dean wanted to smack himself in the face. All Sirena was doing was showering, and most pressingly of all, she was Hank’s girlfriend. There was no way that she saw Dean as anything but a friend. And Dean held no romantic or sexual interest in her either. Not because she wasn’t pretty, or funny, or smart... because she was all those things. But because... because...

The realisation that he had an erection broke his train of thought.

“Crap,” Dean muttered, sitting up with a jolt. He snatched up a pillow and shoved it onto his lap.

Whenever this happened to him, he had four ways to get rid of his problem. One, he could jerk his hand against his member. Wait, was that where the word circlejerk came from? Gross. Anyway, not an option with Sirena in the other room. She could have come out at any moment. Two, a cold shower to induce vasoconstriction. Also not an option with Sirena in the shower. Three, think of something disgusting, like his father sleeping naked on the kitchen table or Jared’s bedsheets.

Dean scrunched his eyes shut. He had seen his father sleeping naked on the kitchen table enough times to have a clear mental image of that. But to his displeasure, nothing happened. Maybe he was desensitised. That was worrying. Whatever, Dean could deal with that another time. One more option remained, then: wait for it to go away on its own. So long as he forced himself not to think, he would be fine. So long as he wasn’t stimulated, he would be fine. So long as Sirena didn’t come back into the room just yet, he would be fine.

The bathroom door opened. Instinctively, Dean looked toward the source of the noise.

Good news: she had a towel on. Bad news: it was wrapped around her hair, leaving the rest of her body exposed.

He screamed.

“What happened to your clothes?” he asked in a higher pitch than usual, covering his eyes with both hands. It was too late to unsee what he had seen, though. Her naked body was burned into his eyelids. Into his brain. All her curves, her sea of smooth skin... No, bad Dean. He couldn’t think that about his brother’s girlfriend.

“I was going to ask if you had anything fresh I could borrow,” she said, like that made any sense.

“Yes, b-but why are you naked?”

“Because I just had a shower?” she said, in the same way one might say that grass was green.

“I mean why are you naked in front of me!”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re practically family, like you said, and you’re... you know.”

Dean did not know. “What? What am I?”

There was a long pause.

“You know,” said Sirena. “You’re only attracted to... those belonging to the same sex as you.”

“What?” Dean took a few moments to process what she said. He lowered his hands, saw that she was still naked, and covered his eyes again quickly. “You think I’m gay?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“No. I mean, I think I might be bisexual though I’ve never told anyone about that, but... why do you think I’m gay?”

“Hank. He’s mentioned to me how ‘gay’ you are a couple of times, and how you’re always at some fruity little clubs or off having gay butt sex with Jared. And that’s fine with me, just so you know. I love the gays.”

Dean huffed. “Okay. First off, I am not doing... that thing with Jared, or anyone. He looks like he’s in his thirties.”

“I know, right?” Sirena interjected. “That’s partly why I dated him. My father freaked the fuck out.”

“And I’m not going to any clubs, let alone ones like... that. Not that there’s anything bad about them. I would just rather stay at home. Anyway, Hank calls me gay to make fun of me, like when he says I’m girly, or like when my father and even Brock say I’m sensitive and not like other boys. It’s just another word in Hank’s ‘Making fun of Dean’ vocabulary.”

When Sirena didn’t respond after a few seconds, Dean dropped his hands from his face. Sirena was still naked, but he barely gave that much thought this time, his eyes fixing on her face. Her brow was furrowed, and she was biting her lip as she stared into space. A wave of remorse rushed through Dean that made him want to cut out his own tongue. He jumped to his feet, the pillow on his lap tumbling to the floor.

“Hank isn’t homophobic. I didn’t mean it like that. Please don’t break up with him,” said Dean in a panicked tone. Hank would definitely kill him now. “Or at least don’t tell him I said all that. Wait, no. Forget that last thing I said. Hank’s a good guy, really. We have gay friends.” Or was ‘gay acquaintances’ more accurate? Whatever. “Hank just says stuff without thinking sometimes. Don’t break up with Hank, please.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” said Sirena, with a thin grin that didn’t reach her unfocused gaze. She shivered slightly and hugged herself.

He gulped as he observed how her breasts seemed to spill over her arms. Bad Dean. Bad, bad, bad Dean. The girl was freezing and he was being a sinner, looking at her chest like this.

“You must be cold. Whales are cold-blooded, and you’re um... nude.” Dean looked around, then grabbed a blanket off his bed and passed it to her. “Here, take this for now. I’ll go find you something of mine to wear, if you give me a second...”

“You’re so sweet, Dean,” said Sirena as he went over to his set of drawers and rummaged through his clothes. “And so authentic. Any girl... guy... whoever would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend.”

Dean almost laughed. “Thanks, but I’ve not had a good record with dating. The first girl I had a crush on probably hates me still, there was one who grew extra arms who I’ve never seen since but I think we might have kissed, or that might have been a dream, and there were these twins who now that I think about it were going to rape me...”

Finding a suitable sweatshirt and sweatpants, Dean turned toward Sirena to give them to her. Only, before he could, Sirena closed the gap between them. She planted a hand onto his cheek then kissed him on the mouth. He dropped the clothes.

At first, he thought this was like when she pecked him on the cheek as a thank you and show of appreciation. But that kiss had been fleeting, like the brush of wings by a butterfly, and it hadn’t been on his mouth. That was definitely Sirena’s teeth nibbling his lips, and then her tongue pushing against them. Dean’s mouth opened like they were automatic doors. Almost instantly, her tongue was inside him, probing him, tracing over the ridges in his mouth, dragging over his gums and teeth and caressing his own tongue.

On paper, it sounded gross, but in reality it felt great. Amazing. Each flicker of her tongue lit up nerves in his body he didn’t know possible. As Dean’s surprise gradually melted away, he reciprocated. She tossed away the towel on her head and hooked her fingers around one of his hands. He let her place it onto her hip. His other hand hovered uselessly until he decided to rest it against her upper back. 

A low purr rumbled in her throat. Dean’s legs wobbled and almost gave way as she pressed against him, her naked breasts against his shirt. Though she didn’t push into him hard, Dean found himself falling backward until he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Sirena came down with him, settling on his lap with her lips still knitted with his own. The hand she had on his cheek slithered to his hair, while her other trailed down his chest, down to his...

His head sprung back as she grabbed him through his trousers. “Hello!”

“... Hi...?” replied Sirena, part-confused, part-amused. She tilted her head to one side.

“Y-Your hand, it’s...”

Sirena smirked and squeezed him again. Dean shuddered and groaned.

“So, how long has your little friend been wanting to say hello to me?” she asked.

“It’s not little,” blurted Dean.

“Oh?”

She shuffled back just enough so that she could remain on his lap while she fiddled with his trousers. He was still trying to comprehend what was happening and what she was doing when she pulled out his member. Cool air greeted it, but the chill didn’t last long. His heart stuttered as her fingers brushed along his length, warming him very quickly.

“I know it’s ugly,” he said, his face on fire. “Everyone’s always making fun of me for being uncircumcised."

“I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute.”

Dean blinked. Sirena thought he was cute? Did she really say that to him? Her fluttery fingers curled around his length, and he gasped and shuddered as she began pumping him. He bit his lip and clutched the bedsheet either side of him with both hands, feeling like he was about to explode. No one had ever touched him like this before. Was this what Hank felt like when Sirena did this with him?

Hank...

“Um, S-Sirena, Hank - ”

“You’re right, Dean. It’s not little,” said Sirena. “The other guys I’ve been with have all been bigger than you - but I mean like, their whole actual bodies. You’re packing more down there than any of them, holy shit.”

“T-That’s good, right?” Then Dean remembered what he had been about to say to her. “Hey, um, Sirena, this feels really nice and all, but isn’t Hank your boyf-”

Sirena pushed her lips against his mouth, cutting him off. Her tongue burrowed into him again, facing no resistance as she licked the inside of his mouth and stroked his tongue like before. All the while, her hand remained on his length, slowly, almost lazily tugging on him. Was Sirena bored? Had she done this enough times to not need to think about it? Or did she know how hot and shivery touching him this way would make him feel? Was she more focused on the kissing than his nethers? Kissing him?

When Sirena’s head drew back, a bridge of saliva collapsed between their lips. Panting, she leaned in again, this time to powder his neck in light kisses. Somehow, this was no less intense than when her warm, wet tongue had been in his mouth. He trembled, his mind spinning as she simultaneously kissed him and massaged his member.

“Ya know, your foreskin’s actually adorable. It’s like your glans is playing peekaboo,” she mumbled.

Dean’s face somehow flushed hotter. He wanted to ask her why all this was happening, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth at the moment. Even thinking was hard, let alone constructing a cohesive sentence. She swiped her thumb over the head of his length, and he let out an unceremonious noise of pleasure. Whenever he touched himself down there, it had never felt this electrifying.

Then again, those times, it had been his own hand, not that of an attractive woman seated on his lap. A naked, attractive woman who his brother was dating.

“God, Dean, you’re makin’ me so fuckin’ wet,” said Sirena. Dean didn’t know what that meant.

She shifted. Her lips grazed his ear and he cringed. Memories of the Quymn sisters lit up in his brain. One of them had licked his ear when they pinned him down. But without him needing to say the sensation nauseated him, Sirena returned to kissing his neck. Shallow breaths left his mouth. The twins and Sirena were nothing alike. Those two girls were creepy and made him feel like his blood had turned to acid, or that he wished it would turn to acid so he would die instead of continuing to feel their horrid hands and mouths.

With Sirena, he didn’t want that. Dean wanted to feel Sirena’s lips, hands and even other parts of her too. The thought had his whole body shaking with desire. But Hank... Hank...

“S-Sirena,” Dean managed to get out.

“I’m used to guys chasin’ after me,” she said. “You’ve seen me. I’m smokin’ hot. But you’re the first guy who I’ve ever, like, pursued first. You don’t know how crazy you’ve been makin’ me feel, Dean. You’ve got no idea.”

“What about Hank?”

She froze. One hand in his hair, and one hand on his dick.

“What are we doing?” Dean asked quietly. “You’re dating Hank. He’s my brother. He’s confident, virile, gregarious, and he loves you, Sirena. And I’m just... Dean. I just... I don’t understand why this is happening.”

Dean didn’t know what to expect now. His words floated around them like dust particles. Maybe he would just wake up in his bed with damp sweatpants and none of this would have ever happened. Because it didn’t make sense.

Sirena straightened up. Her dark hair was disheveled. Her face was flushed. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were sad.

“Hank loves me bein’ a supervillain’s daughter and me bein’ a sexy chick and givin’ him attention. Gawd, you should see all the messages he sends me all the time, and all the surprise visits and crap. I get no breathin’ space, and you know who else is just as,” she sneered the next word, “protective as him? My freakin’ dad. Gross.”

“That’s... That’s not true about Hank.” Dean shook his head. “He thinks you’re cool. Super cool. He loves you, seriously.”

“He likes the parts of me that I want him to see, and the same goes both ways. He’s always actin’ tough and mysterious, and all masculine and stuff, which is fun and all... but there’s only one person who’s seen all of me, and it ain’t him, or even my dad or my therapist. It’s you. You get me and I get you.”

Her hand receded from Dean’s hair, and she rested her palm against his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering away.

“But...” he started, only for Sirena to clench his length and make him cut himself off with a gasp.

“Do you ever feel lonely, even when you’re never alone?” she asked, her voice wavering partway through.

Dean swallowed. “Yes. All the time.”

Sirena’s lips drew into the shape of a smile. When she leaned in, Dean did too. She pressed her mouth against his. Her tongue licked the grove between his lips, and he opened his mouth so their tongues could reunite in a clumsy embrace. Very soon, her body was flush against him, her hands messing his hair while his roamed across her naked back. Though Sirena was no longer stroking his genitalia, that didn’t mean she wasn’t stimulating him down there anymore. As they kissed, she grinded her crotch against his. With each jerk of her hips, it became more and more hard for him to keep his mouth latched to hers, as their bodies jostled, as they tasted each other’s moans.

It was Sirena who broke the kiss, to say, “I want to have sex with you so bad.”

The back of his neck tingled with a chill. Dean knew he should have shut her down. He should have shut this down a lot earlier than now, even. But he was tired of knowing things and thinking things and being the responsible one. That was how it always was. While Dean was meant to be the thinker, the voice of reason, the stick in the mud, Hank got to do and be whatever he wanted.

So Dean said, “I do too.”

Their mouths crashed together again, desperate and hungry. As the two groaned and tumbled further onto the bed, their hands groped whatever flesh they came into contact with. Dean let Sirena tug off his shirt, his trousers and underwear. He let her feel up his chest while he rolled her hard nipples against his palms, and then he let her guide him onto his back. His lips ached at the absence of hers, his mouth a rotting cavity without her delicious breath and tongue. But then, as she grabbed the base of his length and hitched up her hips, he found himself with plenty else to distract him.

“G-Gosh!” he said as her tight warmth engulfed his length. Sirena paused.

“Did you just say ‘gosh’?”

“... No.”

She rocked her hips against him slowly, her hands resting on his lower stomach for support. His back arched. He groaned.

“You did, and that’s okay. I want you to be yourself, Dean,” said Sirena. “Don’t censor yourself, please, because I’m sure not fucking going to either.”

Sirena lifted her hips. Not enough for his length to pop out entirely, but so she could drop down again. Her first several motions were much like this, all equally unhurried, allowing both of them to savour the sensations. Beneath her, Dean whimpered and quivered and curled his toes. The hug of her inner muscles felt impossibly tight and impossibly warm. His lashes fluttered. It was a shame he couldn’t kiss her right now. He had liked kissing her very much.

“So this is your first time doing this, huh?” she asked breathily as she sheathed himself fully inside of her.

“That I remember.”

She gyrated her hips and made herself rise and fall like an ocean tide. He groaned and shivered.

“Your family’s real fucked up, Dean.”

“Ah, they’re all right.” His gaze flickered between her face, with her half-lidded eyes and pouting lips, to her heaving breasts. There was something almost hypnotic about watching her chest and its gentle lurches.

“You can hold them, ya know,” she said, as if reading his mind.

“R-Really?”

Sirena sighed. “Yes, silly.”

She reached down, taking hold of his wrists, and positioned his hands onto her breasts. They were big, and kind of heavy, and soft apart from her nipples that poked into his palms. Other than when he had fondled them a little earlier, he had never touched breasts like this before. He didn’t know what to do apart from rub her nipples against his palms and squeeze, but that seemed to be enough, with Sirena gasping and twitching her hips and clenching his length harder with her inner muscles in response.

Her slow movements quickened, with her shimmying developing into bounces, as she huffed and mewled and made sounds that filled Dean’s head, leaving no room for any other thought. The bed creaked rhythmically underneath them. To help steady her, Dean slipped a hand to her waist. He kept his other on her breast, petting and squeezing. One time, she slammed down on him, and he accidentally pinched her nipple. She shrieked and he let go immediately.

“Sorry!” he yelped.

“D-Dean, what... d-did I tell you before?” Sirena snatched up his wrist and fixed his hand back onto her breast. “Don’t... apologise. D-Do that again...”

His eyebrows shot up and he wondered if he had heard her right. She didn’t move. Crap, she was waiting for him to do something. He gulped and pinched her nipple, albeit not as hard as last time. Even so, Sirena threw back her head and sighed. Her muscles pulsed around his length and he moaned too, then her hips resumed bobbing up and down. Not as fast as before, though, so his fingers could knead her breast without losing hold of her.

It was a good thing that Sirena seemed to have a lot of experience with doing this, because Dean thought he would have been clueless otherwise. On occasions, his father and Brock had spoken about the act of intercourse. The former usually focused on how it felt for him, while Brock talked about being the suave and dominant one. They hadn’t prepared him for it being like this. Here, Sirena took the lead, and her pleasure was his pleasure.

“Sit up,” she said.

Dean took a few moments to realise she had spoken, then a few more to understand what she said. He shuffled his elbows back, manoeuvring himself to be slouched against the headboard. While he wasn’t sitting up that much, Sirena seemed satisfied. She shifted, shoving her breasts against his face, then using a hand to reposition one so her nipple was pressing into his lips.

As inexperienced as Dean was, he could figure out what she wanted him to do. Dean sucked on her nipple, which was apparently correct because Sirena moaned. She clutched his shoulder for balance with one hand. He could feel her other fumbling somewhere between her legs, near her opening which was filled with him, while her hips pounded against him, up and down, up and down, like a piston.

“Ah, um... Sirena...” Dean’s vision was swimming in snow-white. With every movement, his crotch coiled ever tighter. He knew what was coming. Him. Any moment now. “I’m... gonna... f-fuck, S-Sirena...!”

“N-Not yet, Dean!” It felt like the hand she had between her legs was rubbing against some other part of her nearby. “J-Just wait... Just... I’m nearly...”

Sirena cried out, her body convulsing and inner muscles chewing on him relentlessly. Dean didn’t think she was having a seizure, but that would have explained the wetness flooding out from around where he was penetrating her. Urine. But her movements weren’t that of a fit, and it wasn’t pee. It wasn’t his ejaculate either. It was... hers? His eyes widened, and it took only a few more rubs from her pulsating muscles to snap the tension knotting in his groin. He moaned and trembled as he unloaded into her heat, his whole body hot and cold at the same time.

Even after their bodies stopped twitching and the rest of the bedroom faded back in, his length stayed embedded in her.

“That was... wow,” said Dean. “I know this was just my first time, but that was incredible.”

“And I know I’ve done this before, like, a lot, with other people but... yeah. Wow.” Sirena paused. “That’s the best sex I’ve ever had. No jokes.”

She moved but only so her hickey-marked breast was no longer in his face, replacing its presence with a moist kiss on his lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, embracing the other tightly while their tongues writhed together.

Honestly, Dean could have continued to make out with her all day and all night. And he had planned to, had there not been a knock on the door. He jumped.

“J-Jared!” Dean spluttered as Sirena kissed up his neck. Jared wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. “Don’t you see the tie?”

Sirena rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss next to Dean’s ear before murmuring, “Eh, who fucking cares if he sees us? Let him come in. Let him see us together and know what he’s missing out on.”

Then she kissed Dean on the mouth and their lips locked once more, their limbs entwined as the dormitory door opened.

[zenonaa]

i am still working on dr4 regeneration! i have two fics i'm alternating working on and i *think* i've nearly finished that one's chapter so after that it's back to the tofu long fic >:)

[saviorified]

sometimes people on here talk about "accountability" in a way that shows they think that the person they've decided is in the wrong can't actually do anything to redeem themselves other than like. suicide.

[zenonaa]

while there is weight to this, at the same time, it's still worth people who have done someone wrong trying to take some kind of accountability without expecting forgiveness or going 'oh so you want me to die then?'

for example, saying sorry to someone for sending them anon hate years ago and gloating to them anonymously about how you're talking badly about them to others behind their back, or calling them a bitch, or talking poorly about someone you have pretended to be a friend to at mutual friends because you don't like that person's headcanons or some other petty reason. all while being nice to that person's face and acting like their friend. though it might be easier never taking accountability ig and continuing life thinking they got away with it.

[alien1142]

quick doodles bc i can’t stop thinking about dr4: regeneration by @zenonaa @togafuka

[zenonaa]

thank you so much!!!! ; w ;

[zenonaa]

Ik you've had a fic that mentioned a togafuka kid, but how do you think their kid would turn out being raised by them? Do you think it would be different with with a son vs a daughter??

hm... i think they'd both be excited but anxious about raising a kid together, though both do their best to hide this. fukawa is worried that the kid will be "messed up" like her, while togami is wary of messing up by being too cold/like his father. they do discuss this with each other and help reassure the other that this won't happen, and that they're in this together. and unlike their parents, they care about each other and will care about this baby.

i imagine regardless of gender, they'd have a happy child! both would be protective, like i can see them being reluctant to have someone else babysit their child in case something bad happens. if they have a daughter, i like to imagine togami's dynamic being similar to Vegeta's with Bulla. BUT if they're a son, he won't be quite as strict as Vegeta was with Trunks. XD

[zenonaa]

Quick question, but in your fic ReGeneration, how old do you imagine Toko and Byakuya being? Im just curious how old they must be compared to the pre-teens they're raising

Hi! They're very early twenties in my fic. Like maybe 21? I don't have a definite age in mind for them but around that.

[zenonaa]

‘Once again, he found himself drawn to her lavender eyes. In Prince Albert’s courting days, he gifted Queen Victoria lavender bouquets, and she had permeated her residences with the aroma. Louis XIV would bathe in lavender-infused water. When King Tutankhamun’s tomb was opened after almost three thousand years, the scent of dried lavender was still present. And like that smell, her eyes seemed to linger in his mind long after she was no longer in his presence.’

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Series Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Fukawa Toko/Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Fukawa Toko & Naegi Komaru, Shingetsu Nagisa & Togami Byakuya Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Toko, Kirigiri Kyoko, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Asahina Aoi (Dangan Ronpa), Hagakure Yasuhiro, more to be added, Shingetsu Nagisa, Utsugi Kotoko, Daimon Masaru (Dangan Ronpa), Kemuri Jataro Summary: When a project is set up to help rehabilitate the former Warriors of Hope, Togami finds himself the guardian of Nagisa Shingetsu. He also finds himself troubled with confusing feelings toward Fukawa...

Comments: Apologies!! I know it has been like eight months since the last update, but I was working on tofu week fics, and work has generally been very taxing. I am going to try to be more active with this!

💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖 💓 It would mean a lot to me! 💓

Fic under the cut!

***

Over the next four days, Byakuya spent much of his time preparing for the start of the school term. Almost everything had been in place for a while, but there were still final touches to be implemented. Byakuya reread curriculums and teaching materials, decorated his homeroom, assisted with settling in the boarding students and attended a multitude of meetings. Some were with facility members, while others were with new starters and their parents or guardians. Presumably, he would learn more about his pupils as the year progressed, but many of the adults he spoke to made a point to share certain facts upfront.

‘She hasn’t spoken in years, but she’s just as bright as any of her classmates.’

‘His parents were immolated in front of him, so be gentle. He’s an orphan.’

‘They shut down whenever a man raises his voice, so please be mindful.’

‘Make sure no one teases her about her scarring. She got it when a pack of Monobears slaughtered the rest of her family.’

Byakuya jotted down each biographical detail in a notebook for future reference. Had he possessed his mother's photographic memory, he would have only needed to read his notes once to know them off by heart. While his memory recall was strong, it couldn't compare to hers. But then, her brain was of no use now that she was dead. It couldn't even be examined post-mortem - the former Super High School Level Cook had reportedly served it with gravy to the former Super High School Level Imposter.

As Byakuya stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror on the first day of the new school year, he fixed his tie and thought to himself that had his mother still been alive, she wouldn’t have approved of his new job. The conglomerate wouldn’t either. His childhood had been spent getting sculpted to be the next head of the Togami family. More accurately, the process had started before he was even conceived in a laboratory, when the conglomerate picked high quality women from across the world to produce a potential heir. All those tutors. All that money, time and investment, for him to become a teacher to bring out others’ potential rather than the conglomerate’s.

Future Foundation had provided free lodgings and a decent salary, and Byakuya would earn enough money to be comfortable here. But the Togami fortune was no more. His butler had retired, and Byakuya lived in an apartment instead of a mansion. There was no maid to clean his quarters, nor a chef to prepare his meals.

For breakfast, Byakuya made rice balls and miso soup. Simple. Nutritious. He was in the kitchen when Nagisa came into the same room.

“Good morning,” said Byakuya.

Nagisa ignored him, grabbing a handful of cereal from the box before darting out of the room. Since their argument a few days ago, Nagisa had barely said a word to him. Judging by how no one had acted differently around Byakuya following it, Nagisa didn't seem to have told anyone about what happened. Or if he did, no one let on. Nobody appeared to have noticed their rift either, which Byakuya attributed to the fact that they weren't together around other people for long enough.

At the moment, both he and Nagisa were off doing their own things. They would need to sit down and talk at some point, though. Today. Later. Byakuya had work to focus on, and Nagisa had his first day at school to deal with.

When Byakuya arrived at the main building, he stopped by the teachers’ office for the morning meeting, which consisted of Makoto giving the staff a pep talk before wishing them a pleasant day. Unlike their previous meetings, this one lasted no more than five minutes. Afterwards, some teachers went to their nearby desks while Byakuya departed, striding briskly through a short maze of corridors until he reached his homeroom.

During his confinement in the old school building by Junko, many of the classrooms had been neglected or vandalised or both. Crude graffiti on the blackboards. Bloodstains in the panelled flooring. Junko had even put up garish wallpaper, mostly animal prints, others abstract, to further assault their eyes. The floor was still wooden paneling, but now it was clean, and the whiteboard was devoid of any markings. Cream walls boxed them in, and a blank noticeboard hung at the back of the room, lockers either side.

In the centre of the room were five rows of desks, all occupied by a different highschooler. A folded piece of paper sat on each desk, printed with the name of the student assigned to that seat. When Byakuya attended Hope’s Peak, there had been sixteen students in his class, which had been considered below the national average. His homeroom class was made up of twenty high school students. The hum of voices inside deadened as he walked over to the whiteboard at the front of the room.

Twenty pairs of eyes followed his every movement. He wrote his name on the whiteboard.

“You will address me as Togami-sensei. Homeroom will run on for longer this morning to allow for self-introductions and delegating chores. Everyone will be given the opportunity to tell the rest of the class their names and a little about themselves, starting from the front row and going from right to left.”

One-by-one, the students stood up, talked a little about themselves before returning to their seats. One girl loved playing the piano so much that she sometimes forgot to eat and sleep. An aspiring tennis player had the nickname ‘Killer Tennis’. A boy with a goatee aspired to go to space one day.

“I've prepared a rota for the various classroom duties,” said Byakuya when the last teenager sat down. At his previous schools, he and his classmates had never been assigned chores. It was a concept that Makoto had to explain to him. “I will hand out copies for your reference, and it will also be pinned to the noticeboard. Then, we shall start your first lesson, which will be mathematics.”

Byakuya was about to call up one of the students to grab the stack of papers from his desk and hand them out when one of the teenagers jumped to her feet. The zealous pianist.

“Togami-sensei,” she said, her back as straight as a pin. “Can I take this opportunity to thank you for helping the headmaster and the others save the world? If it wasn’t for all of you, our class would probably be in a killing game right now instead of safe inside this school. And I would never get the chance to play the piano for you all, and see your wonderful smiles.”

For some reason, she had said he helped Makoto and ‘the others’ save the world rather than include him as one of those who had saved the world. Byakuya was probably looking too much into her phrasing, but it annoyed him. His survival in the killing game, his work for Future Foundation and support of Makoto’s endeavours hadn’t been for nothing.

He picked up the papers and held them out toward her. “You're welcome. As you are on your feet, you can hand out the chore rotas.”

“Bossing a girl around... Do you degenerate males have no shame?” piped up another girl through gritted teeth.

“And you can help her,” said Byakuya calmly. The second girl yelped.

Once the schedules had been given out, the student whose chore today was to take attendance came to the front of the class. He was even taller than Byakuya, with long dark hair and a pale face. Despite the fabric mask he wore over his mouth, his voice came out clear as he read aloud each name.

No one was absent. Every pupil was accounted for. The boy returned to his desk, then Byakuya gave them a few minutes to sort themselves out for their first lesson.

“Why do we have to learn maths? I thought we were going to develop new skills here,” whined a short girl with a red bob. “This is such a pain. I wanted to practise magic.”

“You will have class periods dedicated to developing skills or searching for new ones,” said Byakuya, though she should have already known that. “Anyway, learning mathematics is extremely beneficial. Besides its relevance in day-to-day life, it’s one of the few subjects where you can’t just depend on memorising and regurgitating information. You have to actually understand it to solve problems.”

The girl whined again and planted her face into her desk.

Byakuya didn’t teach them anything too complicated, just multiplying and dividing fractions and reducing them to their lowest equivalent form. Later on, they would move onto adding and subtracting fractions, then decimals and percentages. Then algebra. Geometry. With every topic they covered, more branched off it. Most of the class weren't enthralled by the lecture and worksheets, but they didn't give Byakuya much hassle.

After the lesson, he made his way to another classroom to teach. Still mathematics, but statistics this time. These pupils were less eccentric than those in his homeroom class, but other than being a bit chatty, they behaved themselves as well.

His third lesson was biology. The students pored over books and worksheets before creating small evolutionary trees in groups. They incorporated drawings of various animals, fungi and plants, then combined their work with the rest of the class to form one large diagram. Some of the students were amazed at how closely related some organisms were, but most of the class were more interested in admiring the pictures and chattering about how vampire squids really existed.

For fourth period, he didn't have a class to teach. Byakuya could have gone to the teachers’ office to reread his notes on his lessons happening after lunch, but instead, he visited the library. It was quiet there. Made sense, being a library, and at this time of day, most of the students would be in their classrooms. He weaved between a few bookshelves until he reached the reception desk, where he found Touko hunched over a notebook.

She didn't look up, not even when he set a hand down near her notebook. Her pen twitched, constantly in motion as it spilled out neat, compact writing from its nib. When her eyes flickered, it was only ever across the page. Wrinkles wrung her forehead. The tip of her tongue poked out between her lips in concentration.

He frowned. He hadn’t forgotten their conversation from a few days prior. Even with all the preparation for the school term, in his quiet moments, such as in the shower or in bed, he had reflected on the matter of the party. Supposing he did kiss her or something to that effect, back then, he could only conclude that something must have been stressing him, and that had caused him to drink and have a lapse in judgement. That made a lot of sense. And now, as he was stressed again, it was making those disgusting thoughts and feelings re-emerge.

Like when he had sex with her at the school. Being trapped in a building where they were encouraged to kill one another was plenty stressful. Byakuya never doubted his ability to win, but it had required more effort to survive than he anticipated. But that was in the past. While they were back at the school, this time they were not there as captives.

Logically, he should have avoided Touko, but that would have been inconvenient. They worked together. Had the same friends. Talked about books and other interesting things. Byakuya watched her for a few seconds more before announcing his presence.

“Do you have a cold? Usually you can smell my cologne when I enter the same room,” he said.

Touko shrieked and swatted a hand over mouth, too late to muffle her voice. He didn't flinch. She hadn’t attended the teachers’ meeting that morning, so this was his first time seeing her today. Her hair was styled in a bun, with a sleek black stick pinned through it. From where he stood, he could see she was wearing a white frilly blouse, but he couldn’t see her bottom half. Knowing her, she had coupled her top with a long skirt.

“S-Sorry, I was so engrossed in what I was doing, I didn’t notice you,” she told him.

“Evidently. May I ask what you are writing that is so much more compelling than me?”

While he still held no interest in romance novels, for something to consume her attention over him... he was intrigued.

She shook her head. “It’s n-not that, Byakuya-sama. While I wrote, it was like I was somewhere else entirely. A-And, I suppose, in another time period as well.”

His eyebrows rose. Was it historical fiction?

“When we were at Hope’s Peak, I f-found myself so uninspired that I was ready to give up on writing forever. But then N-Naegi t-told me to reflect on what sparked my passion for writing in the first place, which led me to begin work on this. My I-Novel,” she explained.

“That figures. Naegi has always had a knack for motivating people, like how finding a tumour motivates one to finally go see a doctor,” said Byakuya dryly. “How much have you written of it so far?”

“It’s a work in progress. I’ve shown some of it to Naegi and some to Komaru, but no one has read the whole thing.”

The thought of Makoto reading it before him twinged the back of his throat. Neither of the Naegis were literature connoisseurs. They were fans of mainstream garbage. He could understand Komaru, with how close they were. But Makoto, though... 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to reading it,” he said.

Byakuya knew some about her childhood. Not a lot, but some. The existence of her alter filled in certain gaps. Genocider Syo wasn't created by a happy upbringing. To read about Touko's life, written by someone as renowned as herself... yes, he was very intrigued.

Touko stiffened and hugged her notebook against her chest. “You want to read it? R-Really?”

“Sure. I can give my honest opinion on it.”

She scraped her teeth against her lips and swallowed.

“I need to tighten the prose first, but then I’d be happy to let you read it,” she said. “I-It needs to be perfect before you lay your eyes on it.”

“Deal. Now, Fukawa... I didn't come here to check whether you were at your post. I wish to speak to you privately. Can we go to the storage room to talk?"

That place was in another part of the library. They walked over together, passing a class clustered around some desks, listening to their teacher lecture about how to cite references. When the pair arrived at the storage room door, Touko tapped in a keycode and swiped her ID card to open it.

In the old school building, where they had been locked up, the interior of that library’s storage room had been caked in dust. Here, the room was almost pristine. Cluttered, with a few boxes on top of, under or next to tables, but clean. It wouldn’t do for Touko to sneeze and for Syo to come out, after all.

Byakuya tried not to think about Syo if he could help it, but he did now, briefly. He had barely seen her in the last couple of months, which could only be a good thing. Her comments about how pretty he would look crucified by her scissors were rather grating, as well as whenever she laughed shrilly in his ear.

Though, he had to concede she proved herself useful on occasion. In the killing game, as she was hanging around him so much, she was able to provide him with alibis for some of the murders, as well as deter people from targeting him. Any murderer would have had to kill both of them at the same time, which would be a near impossible task. Then there was the whole business in Towa City.

Still. Syo was an annoyance. Byakuya shut the storage room door behind them. Tucked high in a corner was a security camera. It recorded sound, but he had no reason to believe anyone would play the footage back later and listen to their conversation. So long as he and Touko didn’t behave strangely, at least.

“When we were trapped in the killing game and had... intimate relations, you recall that there was a camera in the bedroom,” said Byakuya.

Her head twitched back. That seemed not to be what Touko thought he might say. Admittedly, he had never opened a conversation that way before.

“I d-didn’t think about it at the time, but you’re right,” said Touko, fidgeting. A small smile twisted her lips. “A-All I could think about back then was h-how warm Byakuya-sama’s mouth was, a-and how your hands f-fitted against every part of me. My face, my b-breasts, my vag-”

She cut herself off. The corners of her lips sagged.

“Why are you telling me this now?” she asked.

Byakuya breathed, then pushed up his glasses before answering, “When I collected Shingetsu from your apartment a few nights ago, he told me about how Enoshima had collated tapes for a potential motive to make us kill during our imprisonment. One tape was of... both of us together.”

Touko inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Byakuya’s tongue felt almost too big for his mouth. Despite his earlier conviction that no one would hear their conversation, he tensed, as if anticipating for the door to open and Makoto to stumble in on them, or the flooring to splinter upward to reveal the animated corpses of the conglomerate. Neither happened. Of course not. Makoto would be in his office, and his family was all dead.

“I thought you should know,” he said. “So you don’t find out later at a worse time.”

“I see.” Touko rubbed her hands together and looked away. “Thank you.”

Silence loomed over them like a shadow. Byakuya adjusted his glasses again.

“Shingetsu also said that he broke some sort of routine during the same conversation. He seemed very distressed, but there was nothing in his file about this. Do you know what he meant?” asked Byakuya.

Touko’s jaw clenched as her brow furrowed in thought.

“I did try asking him, but he didn’t answer and he has been avoiding me. He was very disgusted at the idea of me kissing you, as well,” added Byakuya.

“I’m not sure what routine he was talking about, but he did have a crush on Monaka,” said Touko. “Maybe... when he saw us, he thought of her? I don’t know how far they w-went with each other. They were both young, but it’s not like that has ever stopped people. And he did have an erotic magazine in his old room... so it’s not like he doesn’t know anything...”

Byakuya thought back to the story that Nagisa had told him about the clay-version of himself. How Monaka had been present in the city of scrap metal, in his envisioned happy ending despite what she had done. When Nagisa mentioned her being bad, he hadn’t explained what he meant. If he meant the whole ‘manufactured killing robots that murdered countless people and tried to create a new Junko Enoshima so the Tragedy that almost ended the world could continue’ thing, or if he had meant how Monaka had betrayed and manipulated him and possibly never loved him back.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more assistance,” said Touko.

“You’ve helped plenty. Thank you.”

Touko gasped. Her hands fluttered to her chest.

“If I c-could tattoo your words to the inside of my eyeballs, I would,” she gushed. He rolled his eyes.

“Even if you would be able to read it - which you wouldn’t, by the way, instead of ruminating on what I said in the past, you should keep your eyes open and work to earn more of my praise.”

Her lips pulled into a grin. “You’re right, Byakuya-sama. B-Besides, nothing I could write on them w-would be better than the view I have now.”

Eyes the colour of dried lavender stared back at him. What a corny thing for her to say. She was meant to be a renowned romance writer. He clicked his tongue and lowered his gaze to her mouth. Her lips. Her smile. It was big, and disgusting. His chest tightened, his throat panged and his hands twitched with the impulse to trace a finger along her lips.

Would her mouth maintain its curve, or would her lips pucker? Would they feel wet? Soft? Slimy with her saliva? His own lips prickled as if he was having an allergic reaction to something.

This was just like when he had spoken to her in her apartment's doorway. When he had rested his hands on her and they leaned in, and Kotoko had caught them and Nagisa called them disgusting. What would have happened if Kotoko hadn't stumbled upon them?

He could kiss her, right now. She had offered to help him whenever he was stressed. When he had kissed Touko on her couch, the nausea knotted tightly in him had loosened. All he had felt was her. Her as they kissed, as he performed cunnilingus, as he thrust his length into her warmth...

His hands felt weightless as he put one onto her hip and the other against her cheek. There was a creak as Touko backed into a table. Her cheek was warm. He breathed shallowly.

All he had to do was dip his head down and press his lips against hers and submit to the flames she was kindling in him. Byakuya stared into her lavender eyes. Her cheek was hot. His hand was burning. Nausea twisted like a knife in his chest, and he could only taste smoke.

Heart racing, Byakuya stepped back. Touko wilted. The air cleared, and they were back in the storage room.

“You should return to the front desk,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes fell. “Right...”

He had told her what he wanted to tell her. With that done, he should have retired to the teachers’ office to organise himself for his lessons after lunch. One art class and one English class. But Byakuya had gone through the day's lesson plans the night before, and Touko Fukawa was standing in front of him.

“What are your plans for lunch?” he asked.

“I was just planning on cooking some ramen in the teachers’ office,” said Touko.

“You need a proper meal. We'll grab something from the cafeteria and join the others for lunch. Okay? Also, while I’m here, my free period hasn't ended yet so if you're not too busy, we can finally talk about that book you recommended to me a while back. ‘Confessions’. Then we can grab lunch after.”

A smile lit her lips and eyes. “Y-Yes, Byakuya-sama.”

Only one chair was stationed behind the front desk, so Byakuya dragged another over from a nearby table so he could sit with her. The class they glimpsed earlier were still about, now either seated or browsing bookshelves. Byakuya gave them no further attention. His gaze fixed onto Touko.

“So, this book you recommended to me. For something so plainly written, it is a complex narrative that the author has woven. While I do usually favour stories that are structured around figuring out a mystery, it can be fascinating to read something where we know the details of the murder from early on, including the culprits.”

Touko nodded. “Y-Yes! The story is less about solving a mystery and more focused on the characters a-and the aftermath of the murder, as the teacher seeks revenge on those who killed her daughter. With every chapter, the main players of the novel’s tragedy are peeled back layer by layer... the reader oscillates between sympathising and despising the characters the more we understand them.”

“What did you think of the murderers, by the end?” Byakuya propped his chin up in his hand. “One was an unremarkable child while the other was a genius. One had an overbearing mother that doted on him, that wanted her family to be the image of ‘perfect’, while the other’s mother repeatedly assaulted him and then abandoned him, giving him what was called a mother complex.”

And when the genius’ girlfriend pointed out his complex to him, he strangled her to death.

Though the book wasn’t long, it touched on many topics. Revenge. The juvenile system. The role of teachers. Mothers. AIDS. The two killers had reacted in opposite ways to the possibility of being infected with HIV blood. One boy became terrified of transmitting it. The other was glad of it, as he thought it could make his mother come back home to look after him.

Had Byakuya been discussing the contents of the book with anyone else in their friend group, he knew they would have called the book dark and twisted. At his first high school, whenever his peers stumbled upon him reading criminal files and autopsies, they would look disturbed and excuse themselves quickly from his presence. While his friends now probably wouldn’t have done that, they still would have shuffled their feet and contorted their lips into uncomfortable shapes until they could move the conversation on.

Perhaps not Kyouko, but she wouldn’t have expounded on the story as Touko did, with shining eyes and a tongue barely able to keep up with the words shooting to her mouth at rapid pace. Touko didn’t shy away from subjects that many would be too uncomfortable to touch. Subjects like mental health. AIDS. Children killing children. As well as the themes, Touko also spoke of the prose, of the narrative. How everything built up to the last chapter, where the teacher completed her revenge on her daughter’s killers.

Byakuya found himself interjecting regularly, unable to take his eyes off her. Occasionally, his gaze wandered to her lips, and slightly more occasionally, he found himself remembering how they had felt against him.

“The novel emphasises the influence a mother’s relationship with their child has. Not only with the killers, but with the teacher and her daughter. After all, it’s her daughter’s death that led to the teacher doing what she did.” Touko paused. “The fathers were rather inconsequential. Absent, inoffensive guys. But... had the boys’ fathers been more present, would the cast’s fate have changed at all?”

“If it was real life, perhaps,” said Byakuya. “But everything in the story was deliberate. As the author’s intention was to show the mothers’ effects on their children, the fathers would always have minimal impact.”

Touko fidgeted. Looked down.

“What was your mother like, Byakuya-sama?” she asked.

“French-Polish. Her father owned Polanski Business Limited, an information technology company. They manufactured a variety of electronic products for businesses worldwide. She was selected by the conglomerate to mother a potential future head, as many other women were. Only her son - me - was successful in becoming the conglomerate's sole recognised heir.”

Byakuya had made mentions of his childhood to their friend group before, as they had with theirs. Aoi was in six sports teams at her first high school. Makoto rescued a crane in junior high. Kyouko’s grandfather forbade her from owning a cell phone or visiting her dying mother. Yasuhiro was held back three grades because he went into hiding after exhorting money from the daughter of the leader of a yakuza clan. Touko never ate meals at the table with her parents. And Byakuya competed against his half-siblings in a series of tasks until only he remained in the running.

“Sorry, I mean, what was she like as your mother?” asked Touko.

He frowned. A personal question, but he supposed it was relevant to their conversation.

“She was an intelligent, serious woman. She oversaw my upbringing until I was named the next head of the conglomerate. She had photographic memory so knew all my measurements, timetables and what outfit I had worn on a specific date years ago. But we were never close. Pennyworth tended to me mostly. Her role was to ensure I could best my half-siblings so when the time came, I would succeed my father while they were disowned and became nobodies. And that I did. I was the youngest to ever do so.”

However, despite holding several senior titles, Byakuya didn’t get the chance to become head of the conglomerate. The Togami Family was almost wiped out during the Tragedy, leaving Byakuya the only surviving member.

“When you defeated your siblings, did you see your mother much after that?” asked Touko.

“Sparingly. As I said, she was rather detached. We had no bond.”

Touko averted her gaze. “M-Maybe she thought that would make your separation easier on both of you.”

Byakuya flinched.

“What?” He didn't raise his voice, but something about his face made Touko cringe.

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking if that had been me... h-having a child and knowing one day they would be taken away, either exiled or whisked away to run such a prestigious company... and also having the curse of photographic memory, so I would remember every detail of my child...”

“Well, it wasn’t you,” snapped Byakuya. What Touko had rambled about didn't sound like his mother at all. Of course, she had cared about him, as a CEO cares about growth, profits and improving their products. But she didn't read him bedtime stories, play with him or help him with his homework, like Makoto, Aoi and Yasuhiro said their parents did.

Aloysius Pennyworth did most of those things. Not so much playing, apart from chess. Once, his mother discovered a rubber band ball under his bed, and she threatened to dock Aloysius's wages if he ever allowed another plaything into Byakuya's possession again.

Everything his mother had done was in the conglomerate’s best interest. To help mould him into the perfect being. Not because she was.scared of becoming attached to him. Not because she was weak. How nauseating that would be. How his skin crawled at the thought. Togamis weren’t weak. Togamis couldn’t be weak.

Touko’s eyes burned into him.

“Let's not keep all the psychoanalysis to me,” said Byakuya. "What about your mothers, hm? Please, do share. Then we will be even.”

She squeaked and waved her hands. “I didn't mean any offense!”

“I’ll be less offended after you’ve talked about yourself.”

Under his icy gaze, she shivered and bit her lip before picking up her notebook, flipping through it and starting to read aloud.

“‘My mothers are the only creatures uglier than I. Starting from when I was young, they would comment on my body. I am too fat, no matter how they starve me. My breasts are lopsided, my labia is too puffy and I stink like the garbage carpeting our house. I am ugly. I am repulsive, I should die, yet it is me that my father plays with, not them. They are his dogs, and I am their leash. They cannot leave. Even if they knew which of them I was biologically related to, and whose child had died at birth, they would both have to stay because they wouldn’t know what it was like to live in any other way.’”

The library hummed with indistinct voices. Touko didn’t look up, stroking her fingers against the page.

“I still n-need to edit it more,” she said. “The metaphors need refining, and some of the language is too blunt, and...”

“I think it’s fine.”

Her eyes darted up, meeting his own. He grimaced a little as she stared at him, but he didn’t avert his gaze. Once again, he found himself drawn to her lavender eyes. In Prince Albert’s courting days, he gifted Queen Victoria lavender bouquets, and she had permeated her residences with the aroma. Louis XIV would bathe in lavender-infused water. When King Tutankhamun’s tomb was opened after almost three thousand years, the scent of dried lavender was still present. And like that smell, her eyes seemed to linger in his mind long after she was no longer in his presence.

Right now, she was here, with him, sitting close. Byakuya swallowed. Then, she smiled, and his skin itched at the sight. Not like when she had spoken about his mother, but the other times when they were together. Like before he kissed her on her couch. His eyes flickered between her face and her hand that would fit beneath his own.

“Byakuya-sama?”

He blinked. She was no longer smiling.

“I was just thinking. Sorry.” Byakuya didn’t know why he apologised. Touko looked perplexed as well. “Your parents were vile people. Would you prefer it if they were alive or dead?”

Touko couldn’t conclusively say they were deceased. None of them could. During their last meeting with Junko, she had gleefully announced the slaughter of Byakuya’s family, but she never revealed the fate of Touko’s parents. Over time, he and the others had discovered the fates of many of their family members. Aoi’s parents were dead. Yasuhiro’s father was dead. Only Makoto’s and Touko’s parents were unaccounted for. While Komaru had seen footage of her parents’ corpses, they never found the bodies.

“I don’t think I will ever know. That was probably Enoshima’s intention,” said Touko. “T-To let that uncertainty eat at me. S-So I live in fear that they will find me again... It’s l-like when I used to lie awake in bed at night and wonder if my bedroom door would open, and he would come in... but regardless, my survival has been my revenge on those people. Whether they are alive or not, I am still here. Despite the world nearly ending. Despite them. I am here.”

Byakuya nodded. “Your strength is commendable.”

“Thank you! And... while I know the world is a dark place... that d-doesn’t mean we can’t have some light in ours. I have my writing. I have friends now... i-including you.”

His heart pulsed in his ears. She was grinning at him again. Lavender grew best in poor soil conditions, so long as it was fast-draining. Much like Touko with her pale lavender eyes had endured in her own poor living conditions, and much like she seemed to be growing in him despite how he had been cultivated by his mother and the conglomerate.

The volume in the library had increased, but the voices weren’t any more distinct. His face felt uncomfortably hot. He looked away from her and pulled out his pocketwatch.

“Lunch started ten minutes ago,” he announced, eyebrows rising. Touko gave a small gasp of surprise. Like him, she must have not expected that much time to have passed. “We should catch up to the others. To our... friends.”

“Right,” she said.

As she rose with him, he thought she wanted to say something. Her brow knitted, her teeth scraped over her lips and her eyes wavered between his face and his hand, but she stayed quiet, and so did he. Their conversation about their mothers had given him a lot to think about.

***

When they arrived at the cafeteria, it was noisy and full of students. The two lined up at the serving counter, retrieved their trays, and carried them to the nearby teachers’ office. Upon entering, they spotted Kyouko, Makoto and Yasuhiro, all gathered at one of the desks. Yasuhiro waved them over.

“How are you coping with your first day on the job?” asked Yasuhiro.

“Perfectly well,” said Byakuya, pulling up a chair and sitting down. He placed his tray onto the desk. Today’s lunch was a fish fillet, rice, salad and miso soup.

“Figures. You must be in your element, imparting all that knowledge you have in your big old brain to your minions. It’s a shame Komaru-chi and Asahina-chi can’t join us. Then we’d have the whole squad here,” said Yasuhiro.

“I’m sure Komaru is content spending time with her cohort,” replied Kyouko. “It will do her good to branch out and make more friends. No doubt it will be easy for her, too. She’s a very sociable individual.”

Touko frowned, twiddling her chopsticks.

“Yeah, she’ll make friends with almost anyone. When we were kids, we lived near a duck pond, and she used to waddle around with them and try to talk to them. And it’s not like we can’t all hang out another time,” Makoto chimed in, looking toward Touko.

“I don’t need your reassurances,” snapped Touko. 

Makoto winced. “I didn’t mean...”

“None of them will get trapped in a city with her and have to team up to save everyone, like we did,” said Touko. She pinched up some rice with her chopsticks. “And it’s not like people have a finite space in their heart for everyone they care about. O-Otherwise, there’d be no room in mine to fit anyone but Byakuya-sama. Anyway, what about Asahina? Where is she?”

No one answered immediately.

“She’ll be about,” said Makoto. “She was at this morning’s meeting, and she seemed fine then.”

Knowing her, she was either at one of the school's sports facilities or had gone off-site to grab herself some fresh donuts. By the end of lunchtime, Aoi still hadn't shown up, but Byakuya wasn't worried. It wasn’t like they had robot bears roaming the streets to worry about anymore, and even if they did, Aoi could take care of herself.

The next two lessons passed uneventfully. His art class drew still life with fruit, and the following class watched a short movie in English then answered questions about it. Once he was finished teaching for the day, he stopped by his homeroom to make sure everyone was there, cleaning. He rattled out information on the available clubs and where they could sign up before dismissing them slightly early, which gave him enough time to head over to a different homeroom and wait.

A few minutes later, the door opened and students trickled out. Byakuya leaned against the bit of wall beside the door, allowing those inside to leave without having to go around him. While most left without pause, one froze upon spotting him.

“Shingetsu,” Byakuya greeted calmly.

Nagisa’s eyebrows lowered out of their surprised arches. “I don’t need you chaperoning me. I’m not a kid.”

“I’m your appointed guardian,” Byakuya pointed out while the rest of the class dispersed. “You can’t avoid me for the rest of your life. Let’s talk as we walk.”

“I don’t want to know more about your sex life,” said Nagisa, shoving his hands into his pockets.

A muscle twitched on one side of Byakuya’s face. Fortunately, they were alone, as everyone else had already vacated, eager to relax at home after their first day at a new school.

“That’s not what I want to discuss. I want to tell you about my mother,” said Byakuya.

“You do know mine’s dead, right?”

“So is mine.”

“Yeah, well. I killed my one. And my father.” Nagisa scrunched his nose and hunched his shoulders, hands still in his pockets. But a few moments later, he said, “What was yours like, then?”

“Strict.”

They started walking, slowly. In the old Hope’s Peak building, the corridors had been illuminated with bright coloured lighting. Red. Blue. Green. This had not been implemented in the rebuild. Sunlight poured in from the windows on one side of them, pooling across the polished linoleum flooring.

“Everything I did had to contribute toward bettering myself, so I would be the optimal heir for my family’s company,” said Byakuya. “I was forbidden from owning toys. In my free time, I had to work on some skill or expand my knowledge. I didn’t partake in frivolous activities like going to the arcade, karaoke or socialising with friends unless there was the prospect of a potential business connection. I was an enterprise first, and a son second. You are one of the few people I know who would understand that.”

Nagisa rubbed his elbow.

“You read my file. I was their experiment. My parents treated me like a... like a virtual pet. They told me I had to study to gain ‘EXP’ so I could level up. That’s all I ever did... study. Or train. They would use special attacks like shining light in my eyes or cutting me with a knife. When I was too tired or defeated in battle, they would give me ‘elixirs’ and ‘potions’ to restore my hit points, which involved them connecting me to an IV and giving me unlabelled supplements. They’d say stuff like this one would boost my attention span, or this one would increase memory capacity.”

They emerged outside. It was still light, but it would be getting dark soon. There weren’t many people about.

“Your father taught in the school’s elementary division,” stated Byakuya.

“Yeah. He wanted me to be the very best, and I wanted to be the best for him. I wanted him to be proud of me. And my mother too. But I could never be as good as he wanted me to be. I would fall asleep in class, and my teachers thought I was doing it to misbehave. I was moved to the troublemakers class. Eventually, my father announced that I was a failure. My innate values weren’t high enough, he said, so they would need to start again with a brand new child who would spawn with better stats.”

Nagisa kicked at some gravel.

“I was so ashamed. I wanted to die. But instead, Enoshima-san told me that I was perfect exactly as I was. That’s why I wanted to make a paradise for kids. So I could stay exactly as I was, forever. But my parents would be disappointed in me forever... so I killed them.”

He stopped walking. After one more step, Byakuya did too.

“My father came up with the experiment, but my mother never did anything to dissuade him. She joined in. She wanted to replace me as well.” Nagisa glared at Byakuya. “Who's to say you won't do the same? That I'm not just a dumb project, and you'll forget about me once you have your own kid with Fukawa-san?”

Byakuya recalled when Nagisa had lashed out at the museum when Jataro joked about Nagisa having a long lost sibling.

“Is that why you were upset about me and Fukawa? You think we’re going to have a child together and replace you?” he asked.

Nagisa answered with silence.

“Everything I do is for the betterment of the Togami name,” Byakuya told him. “Having a child right now is not in the conglomerate’s best interest.”

“They're all dead, though.”

“But I am not. It lives on in me. When the time comes, I will have a child... but it will only be once I have rebuilt the conglomerate, and not because I’m in love with anyone. I’ve never been in love. And I never will be.”

It was physically impossible.

“I wish I could be like that. Not loving anyone. Is it wrong if I still love my parents, despite all they’ve done?” asked Nagisa. “Like... Like how I don’t hate Monaka-chan?”

“Feelings are feelings. There are no truths and falsehoods to them.”

Nagisa sighed. “Love really is a delicious poison, huh.”

Byakuya didn’t reply. And so, as they walked, Byakuya’s first day teaching came to an end, and all he had to do was this for the rest of his life.

[zenonaa]

wip /

after almost eight months, i've finally finished the first draft of my longfic's latest chapter...

[zenonaa]

Not a question, but you write very beautifully, I love it. And you’re one of the few people who are still on the Togafuka ship, which I really like.

Honestly, I drifted away from all of this for a while, but I recently came back to Tumblr and saw that you’re making new things. I really hope things are going very well for you. I’m not sure what else to say, but you bring back good memories from when I used to spend time reading your writings without any worries in life.

And sorry if something isn’t written well or isn’t clear — I don’t speak English and I’m translating this haha.

P.S.: I’ve been reading you since around 2020.

Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad I could give you some good memories and I understand your words perfectly. Sometimes I feel a bit alone with my writing but messages like this motivate me. :')

Togafuka is forever!!!

[zenonaa]

my writers tip is get very attached to a certain ship and think and write about them almost constantly

[zenonaa]

2, 5, 18! :3c

5 ⧽. is there a certain kind of fic that feels the most satisfying to finish? any reason why?

Hm... I think fics that have taken me a long time to finish and/or that I have struggled with for whatever reason. I've posted fics a lot more sporadically over the last few years (partly because of working on my book, then also the mental toll of losing my parent and getting a stressful new job), so getting something done and out that I've had trouble with or been working on for ages has felt so rewarding.

I hope that makes sense. Basically, any time I finish something, I'm happy I actually finished it. 😸

18 ⧽. how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?

I've answered this one but I want to add that the time someone read love, love, love and texted me to say I made them cry was very rewarding. Out of context that sounds bad lol.

Thank you and sorry for the late replies!!!

[zenonaa]

1, 7, and/or 18 uwu

7 ⧽. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn’t get any/much? this ask game is asking someone else to then give feedback on said fic, pretty pretty please!!!

A lot of them dsfsdfds but I get it. I'll say DR4 for now as that's my current project: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64937485/chapters/166925962

Slightly shorter is The Unspectacular Love Life of Byakuya Togami: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59367043/chapters/151406497

18 ⧽. how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?

It depends on the fic how I want them to feel exactly, but I guess I generally want people to think fondly of the fic afterwards, and/or be inspired to create their own fanworks.

Thank you ^.^

[zenonaa]

For your writer ask: 1, 2, 9!!

- goshdangronpa

1 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any one of your wips without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), which fic would you choose? tell us about it if you want!

I should say the sequel to my novel but Danganronpa 4 ReGeneration! It follows canon after DR3, focusing on Togami as he becomes Nagisa's guardian and processes his feelings toward Fukawa now that the world is 'saved'. There are a few other plots going on, like him becoming a teacher whilst struggling with trauma, and a bunch of other stuff. I've not written many longfics for ToFu but reallllly want there to be a canon-compliant one that ticks my boxes.

2 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any completely new fic without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), what would you write? tell us about it if you want!

Hm... that's a tough one! Uh... maybe a sequel to Elusive, I guess? Or a sequel to Step Inside... But I'm not sure if those count as completely new. Off the top of my head, maybe a fic where Polaris and Fukawa go on a cute date and go clothes shopping. That'd be nice.

9 ⧽. tell us about a wip/idea that you’re excited about!

Danganronpa 4 ReGeneration! The fic takes a turn partway through that I've not reached yet, and I'm excited to get to that. mwah ha ha...

Thank you!!!