#between the mask and the sunglasses the paint did give out despite the intense setting spray and activating the make up with setting spray

[lafseanchai]

Quick, Harrow is passed out in a bone, time to have bad face paint.

[zenonaa]

Chapters: 10/11 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya/Kirigiri Kyouko, Fukawa Touko/Kirigiri Kyouko, Kirigiri Kyouko/Togami Byakuya (Dangan Ronpa) Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Touko, Kirigiri Kyouko

Summary: Togami hires Kirigiri to solve a mass murder that occurred at his wedding anniversary party. One hitman was apprehended, but he refuses to say a single word, while the other got away. The mastermind could be anyone, but the list of suspects is getting shorter, and Kirigiri finds herself learning more about the Togamis than she anticipated.

Riding a motorcycle was the closest that Kyouko had come to flying, not including planes.

Actually, maybe including planes. No windows or pillars blocked Kyouko’s vision as the motorcycle hurtled down the country road. Her surroundings poured in from all sides, sunset red and sky blue watercolour staining the evening purple in blotches where they overlapped. The stretching road crackled grey. Wind buzzed white noise as she focused on the road, her hands and feet working on autopilot, making operating the motorcycle look easy, second-nature. No nuance passed her, no temperature drop, no anything. She felt everything intensely.

“Wow, the sky’s beautiful,” came a voice behind her, soft, so soft that Kyouko might have just imagined the statement instead of hearing it.

Then the arms around her middle tightened. Real. There with her. She wasn’t alone. Warmth spread across Kyouko’s face like a puff of air held in for too long.

“That was so exciting!” came the same voice, clearer and louder.

Kyouko nodded.

“You have so much freedom on a motorcycle...” A pause. “It’s so cool. You’re so cool, Kyouko.”

A hand landed gently on the back of Kyouko’s hand, now on her lap. She raised her head. Her gaze trailed up the arm stretched across the blanket. They weren’t on the motorcycle and the person didn’t sit behind her anymore. Instead, the two of them rested in a secluded spot near the road, hidden behind some trees.

Sayaka had the cutest smile of anyone that Kyouko knew.

“Don’t you get scared?” asked Sayaka with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Traffic occasionally rumbled in the distance.

Kyouko shook her head.

“Oh, wow,” said Sayaka, wearing dimples. She raised her other hand to her own cheek. Her fingers curled and she blinked slowly, like a cat showing a human that it trusted them. “I felt so free on your motorbike. To be truly free... it’s exhilarating just thinking about it.”

“With freedom comes responsibility. When I ride, I must be hyper-aware and I cannot put my trust in others,” said Kyouko. Under the trees, there were more shadows than shards of light. “As I ride, I have to wonder... what is that car going to do? Has that lorry seen me? Am I in a blindspot? I am free, but I have no authority over those on the road.”

Sayaka squeezed Kyouko’s hand, still touching herself on the cheek with her other.

“Doesn’t it ever get lonely?” she asked Kyouko.

“I don’t mind.”

The grip on Kyouko’s hand slackened. Sayaka bit her lip and slowly lifted her hand off Kyouko. She touched her palm against Kyouko’s cheek, but a second later, she withdrew her hand, but not all the way back. It hovered in the space between them.

“Is something wrong?” asked Kyouko, and she tilted her head to one side.

“Um...” Sayaka’s face crumpled a little. She shook her head, but the tension didn’t spray off like water from a dog. It soaked through. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

Kyouko stared at her a bit longer before turning away and casting her eyes out toward rolls of grassy fields. The Sun kissed the top of the furthest one. Cicadas performed a private choir for the couple, and traffic took part as bass.

“Beautiful,” said Sayaka, and Kyouko hummed in agreement. She turned back to Sayaka and realised that Sayaka wasn’t watching the sunset.

Sayaka was watching Kyouko. Heat flushed through Kyouko’s face and she quickly looked at the picnic that had been set out. Not a crumb seemed out of place, no icing on a cupcake smeared or any surface cracked. They were high quality, like designed for a scene in an anime and painted with care, or written in a novel lovingly.

“They are real,” Sayaka assured her, and Kyouko gave a start.

A giggle tickled Sayaka’s throat. The skin by her eyes crinkled with her smile.

“Here, you have some food on your face,” said Sayaka, and she reached forward, brushing her fingers against Kyouko’s cheek. After the light touch, she lingered, faltered, like the daisies’ yellow faces were the lens of the paparazzi’s cameras, like the grass was hair that obscured the ears of the earth, all ready to tell the world what they were doing.

Sayaka’s hand crumbled off her cheek, and her body dissolved into urban greys. Kyouko’s sharp intake of breath shifted into the grind of gravel against her motorcycle wheels. As the vehicle slowed to a stop in a street in a shopping district, Kyouko took her left foot off the peg, but she didn’t place it on the ground until the motorcycle stopped completely.

“I’m going to hurl,” said Touko weakly, her arms, not Sayaka’s arms, wrapped around Kyouko from behind.

“Please don’t do it on my back,” said Kyouko, composed.

Touko pulled away from her. Kyouko waited for Touko to slip off the motorbike, and instead heard a thud. She twisted around and saw Touko lying facedown on the pavement.

“Are you all right, Touko-san?” asked Kyouko, and she took off her helmet. The one that Touko was wearing should have protected her head in the fall.

“... I’m fine,” said Touko, but she didn’t get up. “I’ve probably just broken a bone or two.”

There was the sarcasm. At least, Kyouko hoped it was sarcasm, and she hesitated. A glimpse of leather on Touko’s thigh did not get past Kyouko, whose eyes widened a fraction, but Touko gave a slow wiggle and her skirt shifted and settled, covering it. Despite the movement, Touko still didn’t rise from an undignified heap on the ground.

Kyouko pushed some hair from her face.

“Yukizome-san dropped Togami-kun off in a street a short distance back. We have no time to fritter away. We need to tail him before we lose sight of him,” said Kyouko.

“What?” said Touko, and she jumped up, making a miraculous recovery all of a sudden. She struggled her helmet off. “S-Stop yapping and go ahead without me then!”

Touko yelped as Kyouko whipped her hand over Touko’s mouth. Kyouko’s eyes narrowed.

“We both need to be quiet and whatever we see, unless Togami-kun is in immediate danger, we mustn’t let ourselves be revealed,” said Kyouko, but Touko had made a good point so Kyouko lowered her hand to grab Touko’s hand and they started jogging, leaving their helmets locked to the motorcycle.

“Spying on my darling,” Touko said, panting a little already, “I... I don’t know if I can do it with a clear conscious.”

“Didn’t you basically do that before you were dating?” asked Kyouko, quirking her brow.

Touko squeaked. “No! He knew that I was there...”

Kyouko faced forward.

“We’re wasting time,” said Kyouko. “But he can’t have gone too far without drawing attention to himself.”

They rounded the corner and slowed down, entering a shopping district. A range of aromas swamped them. It smelled like a laundromat, worn clothes mixed with freshly cleaned, humid air pressing down on concrete and a stale cigarette sort of scent. Clusters of people drifted across the pavements and the road, which had no cars or public transport in sight on it. Indeed, parasols stood to attention, scattered across the road, with occupied deckchairs beneath them. Kyouko and Touko passed a group of men under one of the parasols, and seconds later, a cyclist whizzed by.

“Ooh-woo,” went Touko, for lack of better way to describe the noise other than to attempt it phonetically. She shrunk against Kyouko’s side. “There are nearly as many signs as people... How are we supposed to spot him or even know what place he went into?”

“It’s not just us spotting him. There’s a possibility of the reverse happening - him seeing us first,” said Kyouko, and she turned her head from one side to another, scanning the surrounding area.

Mannequins outside a storefront captured her attention. Kyouko led Touko to the store and stopped in front of a mannequin decked out in a straw hat, sunglasses, a scarf and a buckskin jacket.

“How much money do you have on you?” she asked Touko, who squirmed.

“Money...?” Touko mumbled into her fist.

In her haste, Touko had grabbed a coat but not her purse. Fortunately for Touko, Kyouko had nabbed hers on the way out of the manor. Kyouko rummaged through it, preferring to use physical money than a card, and they bought a pack of mouth masks, a pair of scarves and one set of sunglasses. They put the mouth masks on, and Kyouko wore the sunglasses.

“Before we continue, Touko-san, I need you to give me Syo’s scissors,” said Kyouko.

“... Eh?” said Touko, freezing.

“I saw your holster earlier.” Kyouko folded her arms over her chest. “Give me the scissors. I won’t have you or Syo do anything reckless.”

“They’re not Syo’s scissors,” said Touko, but she hitched up her skirt and gave the holster over. Indeed, there was only one pair of scissors in it and it wasn’t the ones that Syo flourished once upon a time ago. “Those things, she gave them to Byakuya the night before our wedding.”

Kyouko turned away. “Wait here for a moment.”

She flitted into a nearby alley. Finding herself alone there, Kyouko hooked her fingers through the holes of the scissors and with her other hand, clutched her hair in a ponytail. In a clean cut, a length of hair fell, leaving the rest just shy of shoulder length, and she returned to the main area with her chin held high.

Touko caught sight of her and inhaled. Anticipating her shriek, Kyouko slapped a hand over Touko’s mouth again, waiting for Touko’s lips to stop vibrating before she withdrew her hand.

“W-Why the hell did you do that?” hissed Touko. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Long violet hair is a giveaway,” said Kyouko calmly. “And I’ve been wanting to cut it, anyway.”

“Spoke so casually! But didn’t you...?” Touko seemed to short circuit and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. Mad, even...”

“You shouldn’t dismiss people with another way of thinking as ‘mad’,” said Kyouko with a frown. “That’s a dangerous thing to do.”

“Geez,” sulked Touko, but her lips quivered, fighting back a smile. With a hint of fondness, she added, “That sounds like something Byakuya would say.”

Kyouko wrapped the scarf around her neck while Touko wore hers on their head. Before they proceeded, Kyouko inspected Touko from an arm’s distance. The bookworm glasses were a trademark of Touko. She took off Touko’s glasses and tucked them into Touko’s pocket.

There. Now, Touko was barely recognisable. Touko blinked, and she tensed when Kyouko squeezed her hand, but then she relaxed, and they set off.

To an outsider, they must have appeared to be two close friends out shopping for the day, peering over at different establishments, prospective customers that moved on empty-handed, one shop after another, again and again. They wouldn’t have been completely wrong, thinking that. Kyouko considered Touko a good friend by this point, but they weren’t customers, and good friend maybe didn’t cover the entirety of what they were.

Weaving between groups of bumbling shoppers, Kyouko peeked into buildings until she glanced into a café and did a double take. Her heart skipped but she marched them past the window front before stopping abruptly and tugging sharply on Touko’s arm.

“Wh-?” Touko started, too loudly, and Kyouko whipped up a hand to cover Touko’s mouth.

She felt Touko’s lips contort against her hand, even with gloves on, and with her other hand, she pointed toward the café, and Touko moved her glare in that direction. Touko mumbled something into Kyouko’s hand and Kyouko removed it from her mouth.

“What?” Touko hissed. “Did you see Byakuya?”

He wouldn’t have been able to overhear them, but Kyouko just nodded, and Touko’s furrowed brow released the tension puckering it. Kyouko had seen someone of Byakuya’s height with the same outfit and hairstyle, so she was sure that it was him, but the café’s storefront wasn’t particularly big, and without pressing up to it conspicuously, they wouldn’t be able to investigate it from the outside.

“Should we go in?” asked Touko.

“Yes,” said Kyouko.

Both took a deep breath and entered the café together.

A bell jingled above their heads. At the back of the café stood a granite counter, where customers queued to place their orders. Ahead of it, two long lines of tables stretched across the room, few of them occupied. Bricks with generous amounts of grey mortar patterned the wall behind the counter, the corners of the room were painted white and the other walls between the corners were grey. Light fixtures hung from ropes attached to the ceiling.

Byakuya was far into the café, seated opposite a figure in a trenchcoat. The stranger had their back to the rest of the people in the café. Touko glared at them. Kyouko led Touko to a table in the other row to which Byakuya and the stranger were in.

“You need to be more subtle,” muttered Kyouko, placing Touko so that she was facing into the other row. That way, Touko wouldn’t have to turn her head to stare, which would have been too obvious.

“Who is that...?” Touko said through her teeth. Her lips had compressed very thin. “I can’t see well...”

Kyouko didn’t answer. Even if Touko had been wearing her glasses, Kyouko doubted that Touko would be able to recognise the stranger behind their disguise. Yes, Kyouko would have gone as far as to say that the mystery person had put on a disguise.

Come on. A trenchcoat and a hat. Really.

The person seemed to be telling Byakuya something with minimal hand gestures. Byakuya’s chin rested in his palm. His hand covered a good part of his face. By his elbow, his latte had hardly been touched. Occasionally, Byakuya replied, barely stirring initially, but then he raised his head and Kyouko made out him say, “No one can know.”

She read it on his lips mostly.

Touko brought a corner of her scarf to her nose and started to tickle herself there. Kyouko realised and seized her wrist.

“Don’t,” Kyouko warned in a low voice.

“I heard!” hissed Touko, playing it awfully close to being loud enough to draw attention to their table. Thankfully, generic pop music played over her. She wrenched a hand under the table, retrieved her glasses and put them on.

Kyouko let her. Touko squinted at the stranger’s back, chewing on her lip, but no recognition lit up her eyes, or her face.

“We’ll order something,” said Kyouko. “That will bring us nearer their table. You can come with me, Touko-san, but you must promise that you won’t react or do anything rash.”

No reply. Touko’s lip endured more nibbles. Kyouko rested her hand on top of Touko’s fist, and Touko broke out of her thoughts, blinking.

“I know it’s tempting, but do you think Togami-kun will be happy if we cause a scene in public?” asked Kyouko. “We need to get as much information as possible, and we mustn’t end the encounter prematurely.”

Touko trembled but nodded. She couldn’t be faulted for feeling what she must have. Kyouko fought to not give into impulse, to bound across the café and demand answers from Byakuya. Though she tensed, she remained resolute. The time for confrontation would come.

They joined the end of the queue, and Kyouko removed Touko’s glasses again. After the customer in front of them placed his order, Kyouko grabbed two muffins and a bottle of water and handed them to the cashier.

“Anything else?” asked the cashier.

Kyouko shook her head. While the cashier totalled their purchase and sorted through change, Kyouko strained her ears, only catching snippets between Byakuya and the stranger, whispered too harshly to make more sense.

“... Shouldn’t...” Byakuya said. “... could... caught...”

“... Work... my life...” The stranger said this. “No regrets...”

They received their goods. Kyouko gripped Touko’s hand and they headed down the centre aisle. As they passed Byakuya’s table, Kyouko’s eyes hidden behind sunglasses, she saw Byakuya reach into a pocket. Unable to pause lest they disrupt them, they continued to the door, and there, Kyouko risked a glance over her shoulder.

Byakuya handed a wad of money over to the person.

She turned forward sharply and marched out, tugging on Touko’s arm.

“H-Hey! W-What is it?” Touko demanded more than asked, once they were outside. Touko snatched her glasses back, put them on and pressed her face to the window.

Both witnessed the person lean over the table and embrace Byakuya in a hug.

Kyouko heaved Touko back.

“What was that?” snarled Touko, this time knowing, and Kyouko wrapped her arms around Touko from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, but Touko fought back, struggling.

Her small frame had its limitations, but Touko put up more of a fight than one might have expected, and that would have been enough to break her free from many.

“Please, Touko-san,” said Kyouko. Every second that passed gave more time for an audience to form. Already, a few people had paused to watch, unsure whether to intervene. “Listen. I think I know what happened.”

Touko thrashed some more before slowing down like a wind-up toy.

“You what?” she asked.

“I need to confirm a few things, but we need to return to your mansion before Togami-kun does,” said Kyouko in her ear. “There is something that I need to check that only you will be able to help me with.”

“You mean you know... what?” Touko had relaxed considerably by now, and not so many people were staring. “What do you mean? Who’s with Byakuya?”

“And who was responsible for Sugawara’s murder,” said Kyouko, prompting Touko to stiffen.

“Who was it? Who is it?” asked Touko.

Kyouko let go of Touko, who did not run away. Touko twisted around and beamed wide eyes in Kyouko’s direction, and Kyouko felt the temperature of her face climb.

“I don’t want to say anything too soon. It may put preconceptions in your mind, or false hope. There are certain photographs which I wish to see first, and the only person who may have them is Aloysius Pennyworth,” said Kyouko. She grabbed Touko’s hands. A shiver jolted Touko. “And you, Touko-san, are the only person who can approve my request. Please...”

Touko’s eyes flickered. Kyouko let go only to take off her gloves, and she held Touko’s hands again after, feeling the other woman tense, seeing her eyes widen.

“... you must trust me,” said Kyouko, “even if I cannot say right now why.”

Had it been Makoto stood opposite her, he would have blessed Kyouko with only a moment’s hesitation, and he would have walked to the end of a plank above a pit of lava if she said she would catch him. They were not a couple, and never had been, and though the physical distance between them had strained their connection, they were connected nonetheless. However, Touko stared at Kyouko, not Makoto.

Seconds crawled under Kyouko’s skin. Touko clicked her tongue.

“I know why I will trust you,” said Touko. “It’s because you’re my friend... and...”

She gulped. Licked her lips. Blushed.

“... and a significant other,” finished Touko. “One of them. And... And I know Byakuya... so I know that I have nothing to be afraid of.”

***

When one recalled their experiences at indoor swimming pools, the smell of chlorine wasn’t an uncommon association. However, the pool at Hope’s Peak didn’t smell of that, or of any chemicals. It lacked any odour, and everything from the tiled floor to the shimmering surface of the water seemed slightly clouded.

Kyouko couldn’t even remember what book she had been reading, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Kirigiri-kun!” barked Kiyotaka.

She lifted her head. Her cool gaze clashed with the fiery windows on Kiyotaka’s face.

“You have rested for long enough,” he said, wearing standard navy trunks. He pointed at her. “It is time to participate in the lesson too!”

The mumble of the swimming pool continued, but it sounded more distant than before despite its distance from her not changing.

Sayaka rested a hand on Kyouko’s shoulder and raised her other hand. “Kirigiri-san can’t. Sorry, Ishimaru-kun.”

“Is it your time of the month again?” asked Junko with a grin from the pool, resting her chin in her arms folded on the edge of the poolside. “Maybe you should get yourself checked out.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to swim,” suggested Byakuya with a smirk, from a bench by the wall, a book on his lap and a camera next to him. He had been taking photos up until recently in this session for the yearbook.

Kiyotaka put his hands on his hips. “Is that it, Kirigiri-kun? You can’t swim?”

A whistle screeched. Sat in a lifeguard chair, Aoi lowered the small white object from her mouth.

“Kirigiri-chan can’t swim?” shouted Aoi. More people stopped what they were doing to spectate.

Sayaka glanced at Kyouko.

“I can swim,” said Kyouko evenly.

“So why are you disrupting the class by not?” Kiyotaka persisted.

Mondo hoisted himself out of the pool. He didn’t stand up, remaining seated, and grimaced. Water dripped from the end of his pompadour.

“She ain’t doing anything,” Mondo pointed out. “You’re the only one getting worked up about it. Those girls haven’t swam once either, and at least Kirigiri’s wearing her swimsuit.”

He jerked his head in the direction of Touko, who wrung her skirt in both hands, and Celes, standing a short distance away in her loita dress. Touko twitched upon being acknowledged.

“I will be getting to everyone else soon,” said Kiyotaka, whose face grew steadily pinker.

“I have an injury that prevents me from participating in physical education. It’s a pity,” Celes chimed in with her hand over her heart, but only by action, not by expression.

“And I’m hydrophobic,” Touko piped up, not meeting anyone’s eyes. She squeezed her skirt more intensely, her braids seeming extra dishevelled today. “I’m low on the fear hierarchy, so don’t think about throwing me in the deep end of my systematic desensitisation. Years of hard work... would be squandered...”

After a beat, Kiyotaka turned away from her and fixed his stare on Kyouko.

“Togami-kun and Maizono-kun have swam this session,” said Kiyotaka. “If you do not know how to swim, then I would be happy to teach you.”

A smile spruced up his lips, but Kyouko didn’t regard it for very long. She looked down and studied her gloved hands. Footsteps slapped nearby, approaching them.

“Ishimaru-kun, if Kirigiri-san doesn’t want to swim, then she doesn’t have to,” said Makoto, the owner of those footsteps that finished close to Kyouko.

Kiyotaka didn’t speak. No one did. But the silence was loud, taking up too much space in her head. Her chest tightened, and as time trudged on, it didn’t ease up. The twinge buried itself in Kyouko, and every gaze stuck a needle in her skin. She elevated one hand, with her palm facing her, and whiting out everything else in her vision, she slid up her glove far easier than she expected, not removing it completely, but revealing the bottom of her hand.

Everyone’s faces reappeared, etched into the background that melted back in.

“When I was younger, I trusted when I shouldn’t have, and these scars serve as a reminder,” said Kyouko. She looked above where ravaged, purple tone skin was in plain sight, but she didn’t focus on anyone in particular. “I wear gloves to obstruct them from view.”

Kyouko thought it was with disgust that Kiyotaka stepped back. His features screwed up a little, but then he spoke.

“I apologise...” He trailed off, head tipped forward, lacking the powerful boom that so often accompanied his voice.

“Good!” Aoi scolded, still in the lifeguard chair. She pointed at him. “You pressured her to do that!”

His eyes gleamed on his trembling face. He didn’t reply.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know,” said Kyouko, but Kiyotaka shook his head. She spoke more sternly. “I mean it. I only show my scars to those I consider my family... and that is all of you. I suppose, I was afraid that you would turn on me after I did.”

Kiyotaka jerked up his head with the same look of shock as before.

“Never!” Makoto blurted, and several heads nodded. “Kirigiri-san, we would never...”

Sayaka gripped Kyouko’s shoulder harder. Kyouko couldn’t help smiling, even if it was small.

“We’ve all come together as a sort of family, haven’t we?” mused Sayaka. “All of us, even shy people like Fukawa-san and Togami-kun.”

Kyouko raised her eyebrows. Most of the others experienced a similar quiver on their features. Byakuya had never looked so surprised and offended in Kyouko’s presence prior to this, to the extent that he didn’t, maybe even couldn’t, say anything in response. Mondo gave a snort of laughter, and in a domino effect, everyone else relaxed, though Byakuya’s expression didn’t fade away completely.

“And that includes you, Ishimaru-kun,” said Kyouko, drawing back Kiyotaka’s gaze. “I know that though you were insensitive, you didn’t have any bad intentions. People’s minds work differently, which in some cases, can be hard for others to follow and understand.”

A distance away, Mondo stood up and padded over. He stopped beside Kiyotaka and draped his arm over Kiyotaka’s shoulders, which made Kiyotaka tense.

“She’s right. We’re family,” said Mondo, and Kiyotaka finally grinned.

“You are right! We are a closely knit group.” Kiyotaka looked at Kyouko full on. “And if you don’t wish to swim, then you don’t have to, Kirigiri-kun.”

Kyouko smiled and bowed her head. “Thank you, but I think that I will swim now, if that’s okay.”

She discarded both of her gloves and everyone followed Kyouko back to the pool except Byakuya, who returned to his book, Celes, who watched with a smile, and Touko, who chewed on her lips.

Next week, Kyouko was the only person left in the changing room when she heard footsteps. Kyouko lowered her hands as she turned to see who it was.

“Fukawa-san?” Kyouko greeted, straightening. This was the first time that she had seen Touko here.

Above them, the ceiling fan growled.

“Showing those scars...” Touko clasped her hands together tightly. The strap of her duffle bag moved a bit, slung over her shoulder. “That was ballsy.”

Without another word, Touko took off her uniform. Underneath, she already had her swimsuit on, and on her left thigh, tallies had been scarred into her skin. She slipped on some swim shorts, and then faced Kyouko, who did nothing but look at her.

“W-Well?” said Touko, her heels pointing outward and her knees pointing in. “Let’s go already. I’m not going to hold your hand, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

Kyouko’s lips stretched out, corners creeping upward. They left together, emerging into the bright light of the indoor swimming pool. It dimmed into the afternoon sky outside of the Togami manor.

As Kyouko intended, by the time they arrived there and Touko had almost fallen on her face getting off the motorcycle, Touko had cooled down significantly, and she followed Kyouko out of the garage obediently and readily. In a corridor, Touko retrieved her phone from her leather holster, swiped the screen and with a few strokes, dialled a number.

“Yukizome,” said Touko.

“Good afternoon, Togami-sama,” chirped Chisa.

“I need keys to Pennyworth’s room,” explained Touko, sharing none of Chisa’s warmth. “Meet me in the dining room.”

“Oh?” went Chisa.

Touko hung up. She put her phone away and set off in the direction of the dining room.

“You don’t have immediate access to the room?” asked Kyouko, striding beside her, eyebrows raised. “It’s your home.”

“We have a skeleton key,” said Touko, and Kyouko assumed that Touko meant herself and Byakuya by that. “But... I want to talk to Yukizome too.”

Kyouko furrowed her brow. “Touko-san, please don’t compromise our mission.”

“I know what I’m doing,” said Touko stiffly, without looking at her.

Chisa arrived before them, and she waited in the dining room with a loop of keys between her thumb and index finger. Touko took the keys from her and eyed Chisa.

“Where is my darling?” asked Touko lightly, but it was a thin layer of frost over a block of ice.

“Oh?” said Chisa. Her shoulders jumped. “He didn’t tell you? It must have slipped his mind.” She raised a finger. “He was called out by someone working with the Conglomerate, who insisted that they meet in person.”

Touko’s inflection didn’t waver. “Did he say who?”

“Ah, he didn’t, sorry,” said Chisa. She touched a hand to her cheek, crossing her other arm over her chest. “How forgetful... He might want to think about hiring his sister to remember these details for him. But I suppose it can’t be helped, being such a busy man...”

Chisa tapped her chin, lips pursed in thought or pursed to give off that impression. Touko spun on her heel and walked out of the room with Kyouko by her side. Kyouko felt sure that Chisa sighed as soon as the door shut behind them.

Neither spoke as they headed to a wing of the manor that Kyouko hadn’t visited before, but Kyouko remembered being informed of an area around this part of the manor where the staff slept and kept their belongings. Their living quarters. Until now, she hadn’t had reason to  come here. They didn’t find anyone milling about in the corridors as they travelled through it briskly, and in front of one of the doors, Touko stopped and faced it.

She didn’t open it or reach out to do so.

“Touko-san?” said Kyouko and a few seconds later, and only after Kyouko had said her name, did Touko finally unlock the door.

Aloysius’s bedroom had a rustic colour scheme. Pale green paint coated all four walls, the ceiling was off-white and they walked across a varnished wooden floor. Kyouko peered at the mirrored dome above the headboard of Aloysius’s bed, which distorted her reflection. She wiped across it, gathering a bit of dust on her finger.

“When exactly did Pennyworth-san take sick leave?” asked Kyouko. Her reflection mouthed the question at the same time.

“Shortly after the shootings,” replied Touko, who was opening and closing the drawers of a wide, mahogany unit on the opposite side of the room to the bed. A television hung on the wall above it the unit. “It was upsetting. As you will know, he helped raise Byakuya. But he wasn’t just a butler...”

Touko plucked out some things from the bottom drawer and shut it. She stood up and faced Kyouko, hugging two photo albums to her chest. Both women sat together on the end of Aloysius’s bed, and Touko opened the first one. While Kyouko recognised a few of the photographs of Byakuya as an infant, the album contained more than had been in the archives, than what Anastazja owned. Those had all been formal, professional, but these had imperfections, and didn’t always show Byakuya off. Sometimes, they had no big reason for existing, but those were perhaps the most precious. Sometimes, Byakuya blinked, or pulled a face, or his tongue poked out between his lips.

They reminded Kyouko that even Byakuya had been a child. A toddler. A baby.

The photographs were arranged chronologically. Touko turned the pages slowly, unable to not grin. When she reached Byakuya’s early teens, Kyouko put her hand down on one of the pages. She studied a photograph of Byakuya, in which he stood and stared unsmiling at the camera, holding a violin. A hand rested on his shoulder, but the owner had been cropped out of the shot. Her eyes narrowed.

“What is it you’re looking for?” asked Touko. “If you told me, I can help.”

“I believe I know the culprit,” said Kyouko.

Touko twitched. “Who is it?”

Kyouko stroked the photograph.

“I think it would be best if we hear it from the person themselves,” replied Kyouko. “Just in case I’m wrong. I don’t wish to give you false hope.”

“You’re doing that either way,” said Touko. Kyouko frowned, and when enough time elapsed for Touko to accept that Kyouko didn’t intend to answer, Touko pulled a face and rose.

Initially, Touko paced while Kyouko examined her phone. The screen faced up, but there wasn’t anything on it. She looked around. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations, in this room. Her eyes fell upon the television on the wall.

“Touko-san, would Pennyworth-san possibly have any videos of Togami-kun as a child?” asked Kyouko.

“Yes,” said Touko. She came to a halt. “We can access them from a computer.”

“What about the television?”

“It’s just a display,” said Touko, squinting. “B-But... if we connect it to a laptop, you can watch them on the television. Why though?”

Kyouko folded her arms over her chest.

“You’ll find out soon. It shouldn’t be too long before Togami-kun is back,” said Kyouko. “Would you ask Yukizome-san to let Togami-kun know to come here as soon as he arrives back?”

Touko tapped on her phone and then left the room. Five minutes later, she returned with a laptop and a cable. Kyouko connected the laptop to the television, and she let Touko log into the network. A lot more files were visible on Touko’s account, though the folders were all protected. To access some of them, not only was a password required, but a fingerprint on the built-in reader in the laptop.

“What sort of thing are you looking for?” asked Touko, once she had opened a folder with lots of video files in it.

“We can start at the beginning,” said Kyouko.

Most of the videos ranged from several minutes long to less than a minute. In the earlier ones, they watched him as a baby. Learning to walk. Trying to mimic what Aloysius, behind the camera, said. Byakuya pouted at Aloysius, getting increasingly frustrated, but Aloysius never lost his cool. In some of the recordings, Byakuya performed, his hair growing until he won the competition, when his hair became abruptly shorter. Up to this point, Osamu hadn’t appeared in many, keeping to the background like mould growing on a far wall.

They still had many left, though.

“There are a lot,” Kyouko remarked, staring at the folder as Touko positioned the cursor over the next file.

“As I was telling you, Pennyworth wasn’t just Byakuya’s head butler.” Touko didn’t click the file yet, resting her finger on the button without exerting any pressure. “He had a big responsibility in raising him alongside Byakuya’s mother.”

“I see.” Kyouko rubbed her chin. “Before we continue, I have one last question. Do you know if when Togami-kun was evacuated from the party, if he left the building?”

Touko looked like she tasted something sour.

“... I believe so,” admitted Touko, fidgeting her hands, stooping her posture. “But he must have returned soon after to interview everyone. People could only leave after that.”

That confirmed it. Kyouko kept her features composed.

“Thank you,” said Kyouko.

The next video, which Kyouko barely registered, was one of Byakuya’s piano performances, but she couldn’t fully focus as her mind was caught in a whirlwind. Partway through, the door to the room creaked. They turned toward the source of the noise.

Byakuya gazed at them, without a wig, and he wore a dark suit now instead of a maid dress. First, he looked at Touko, but then his gaze strayed to Kyouko. His brow creased.

“Did you cut your hair?” he asked Kyouko, who didn’t even shrug.

She just stared back at him.

He bordered on glaring, but seemed to be making an active effort not to. “Why are you here?”

Touko sprung off the bed and before Kyouko could think about preparing to react, Touko grabbed Byakuya’s shoulders and pulled.

Roughly.

Byakuya yelped.

She might have punctured him had she not had time to cool off before his return.

“What’s going on?” Touko demanded, eyes bulging. “Me and Kirigiri... We know that you snuck out to a café to meet someone... and exchanged money...”

He didn’t answer. His eyebrows raised in... confusion? Surprise? Kyouko stood up, but she didn’t rush over like Touko had done. She stayed standing where she was and looked toward the doorway. Her eyes widened, but just for a moment, and she quickly smoothed over her features.

“Now that we are all here, it’s an appropriate time to announce the killer,” said Kyouko. “Not the person who hired a hitman, because there was no hitman for Sugawara. I’m talking about... the killer himself.”

Touko’s gasp didn’t make it out of her throat. She tightened her hold on Byakuya. His face didn’t change, remaining an exhausting, unsolved equation.

“Before the first shooting in the hall, Togami-kun was with Touko-san.” As Kyouko narrated the events, she imagined the sequences in the form of manga panels. “Sugawara approached them and Togami-kun asked Touko-san to get drinks for them. She did, but when she returned, she couldn’t find either of them, and then the shootings occurred.”

The imaginary hitman fired a gun. Pink blood splattered the pages. Touko cringed in real life.

“Around this time, Sugawara was murdered in a side room, and the weapon was not found,” said Kyouko.

No one spoke. Kyouko stared at the couple.

“We tried to deduce how a guest could dispose of a weapon despite not being allowed outside of the premises prior to being searched and interviewed. How the gun could also not be found on the grounds either. It is because the killer wasn’t a guest,” said Kyouko. She imagined a shadow falling over Osamu’s body. The shadow of a man painted grey. The murderer.

Her finger whipped forward and she pointed at Byakuya.

“It was you...”