#really sorry if this was unwanted

[brightphantasm3500]

Time for my first big post. Touhou is one of my greatest passions, and this is a good little(ish) overview of the various games of the series. This sounds like a good opportunity to get my own thoughts on the matter out there with some second opinions and some counterpoints. Overall, I'm generally in agreement with what OP says here though!

The General Pointers

I don't have much to say here. OP hits all the important points as far as general game flow goes. I do wish I could just play games on easy to say I cleared them, but I've been beating games on normal mode since the PC98 era, so I don't feel like I can stop now.

Highly Responsive to Prayers

So, when my friend got me into touhou around the time of UFO's release, I was adamant about starting at the beginning. The beginning beginning. I really enjoyed the game's unique breakout-style gameplay. Is it a poor start point? That depends, in particular, on what you want to get out of a foray into the series. If you're looking to witness firsthand the evolution of the series and its mechanics, then absolutely start here and go in numerical order. By doing this, you'll get a chance to see every mechanic that would become core to the series filtered in over time, while getting to experience some unique, interesting mechanical "trial runs" as the main drunkard himself experiments with a few different mechanical and game styles.

As an aside, partially because of starting with this game and partially because of OST track "Eternal Shrine Maiden", this continues to be among my favorite entries in the series, and probably the game I return to the most.

Story of Eastern Wonderland

While OP is absolutely right about the SoEW start being rough, if, as previously advised, you attempt to play the games in numerical order, you'll find that mechanically, things flow into each other surprisingly cleanly. The lack of focus mode, movespeed being based on shot type and having to mash the button to max your DPS are certainly dated, but consider this: the next entry in the series, you also have to mash to fire in and also doesn't have a slow-move, but character speeds are a little more static and reasonable. I also don't think the bullet patterns in this game are that bad, making it, with some effort, fairly reasonable to learn over a short amount of time once you find the shot-type you're comfortable with.

As an aside, I've never beaten an EX stage, so I'm not going to comment on them. I've tried, but I'm not that good at shmups, unfortunately. Decent, but not good.

Phantasmagoria of Dim. Dream

Not a title to take seriously, and I already made my comment about mechanical flow in the previous entry. I think this is still my favorite of the Vs. Shooter titles, and chains of point-threshold-boss-attacks still crack me up to no end in this game in particular. I'd not suggest passing this one up if you're coming into this from SoEW, but mess around with the characters(most of which you'll never see again), beat Yumemi at least once without fear of continues because these games don't lock endings behind 1cc, and move on.

Lotus Land Story

Now we're starting to resemble the windows series. Now you can focus-move and now you can hold the button to fire without mashing. Mechanics for lives exist, though I don't remember them. Even this far back, we even have ZUN putting in one of his trademark gimmicks of making the Stage 4 Boss change depending on circumstances, in this case which character you are playing as. This is also the first time chronic protagonist Reimu appears as a boss. Unless Seihou came out before this, I forget.

Outside of the 1-to-current journey, I would say that this one is the most-enterable of the PC98 games, and probably the easiest touhou game in the series. The metric I use for how easy a touhou game is, is how long it took me to get my clear, generally. Which is to say, Lotus Land Story is the only touhou game I've cleared on normal with all characters and shot types, and I've never had a failed run. Yes, I got a blind 1cc my first playthrough. I don't know what it is about this game, but I just find it really easy. Shout out to stage 4 theme Alice Maestra.

Mystic Square

Probably the best game in the PC98 era. The mechanics are solid, the challenge is real, Mima and Yuuka are both really fun to play with great dialogue. This is the PC98 game that is going to most feel like a modern touhou game. You can really tell ZUN had the formula and what he wanted the series to be down pat at this point.

Embodiment of Scarlet Devil

If you follow the series on aforementioned game-1-to-current journey, EoSD is probably going to feel like Mystic Square But More with a fresh coat of paint. We're even going from one stage 5 Maid What Enjoys Bladed Implements to another. We have the beginnings of the modern side-HUD, and the first instance of your options migrating to the front of your character during focus mode. Still no visible hitbox, though. A lot of people have nostalgia for this title and it's hard not to see why. I find it a little rough, but enjoyable nonetheless. My 1cc of EoSD was with Reimu A. A perfectly reasonable entry.

Perfect Cherry Blossom

Now we're re-starting the habit of old stage-5 bosses as playable characters, and shot types change, usually in power and intensity, when in focus mode, and finally, we have a visible hitbox. OP already mentioned the cherry border which can act something like a second bomb if you need it. I know that the "meme" is to tell people to start with the next game, but PCB was the one I always remember people saying was the most comfortable starting game. Of the first windows games, this one took me the longest to get a clear with, and my clear was on Sakuya A.

Imperishable Night

Alright, time for hot take number 1. I think imperishable night is hard. IN normal, by my count, is no joke. I can't wrap my head around most of Reisen's patterns. Is it my fault for adamantly staying away from the Reimu/Yukari pair? Maybe. If you like that team, I don't know what it is about them, but it's easy mode for normal mode. I eventually got my clear with the SDM team, this after trying Reimu/Yukari once and instantly clearing.

I would argue, personally, that there's just a little too much going on in this game to say that it's a good start point. Special mechanics that don't show up anywhere else in the series are all over the place here, with the time system and spirit familiars being what you need to play around in order to even have a chance of getting to the end. Another case, however, where OP has it very right on several fronts; this game has a lot of replayability and a great atmosphere. I'd just recommend working up to it first, myself.

Who knows, maybe I'm just bad at remembering to use my bombs.

Phantasmagoria of Flower View

I'm going to say very similar things here to what I said about PoD.D. Mess around with the characters, beat Eiki a few times with people you like and move on. This game has an even worse problem than PoD.D did of just not having nearly the fun factor it does if you're playing against real people that can actually mess up. If you're bored, set up a Lunatic CPU vs. CPU match sometime and watch just how hard they cheat.

Shoot the Bullet and Double Spoiler

I'm lumping these two together unlike OP because of personal experience. One thing that I think OP really didn't impress that they should is the amount of skill demanded by these two games. They are in fact great for their bite-sized nature, but the fact that each of the myriad stages in these games covers 3-10 pictures of a single bullet pattern with variations, means that ZUN drove up the difficulty far above what my brain can parse starting about halfway in. I have hundreds of tries before success on some stages as early as StB's Level 3. It'll certainly teach you to recognize patterns and play around them, but later it'll give you patterns you must circumvent with the main mechanic of the game in order to survive. In this way, I would suggest being more wary of calling these games to start on. Maybe put your nose to the grindstone later on, once you've gotten some handle on the series so that you can better learn the habits these games will try to teach you.

Mountain of Faith

Finally, someone said it. Yeah, I get it; you can strategically abuse the free 5-power bomb over the course of the game to trivialize it. That's incredibly unintuitive and requires routing the game and being consistent at most of the game in the first place. No, the game isn't easy. The normal-mode patterns starting at stage 4 can get downright headache-inducing. I eventually got my clear with Reimu C.

Subterranean Animism

The first Touhou game in the series I haven't cleared. Maybe I should just sit down and grind out easy-mode-playthroughs one day instead of being adamant about clearing on normal. I didn't actually know (or remember at this point) how exactly the life system worked, and that makes a lot of sense. It always frustrated me how aggravatingly stingy the game was with life fragments, and now I get it. It's another case of you already have to be reasonably consistent in order to succeed. That said, OP nailed pretty much everything here. SA is one of the big fan-favorites, standing out with the first 3 windows games, in terms of broad character popularity and musical quality.

Incidentally, as this is another game that uses a similar pair-system to Imperishable Nights', once again, Reimu/Yukari is the easy mode for some reason. My preferred shot types are Reimu/Suika or Marisa/Patchouli, personally. No, that has no bearing on who I like to ship with whom.

Another note I want to make is that with Mountain of Faith and Subterranean Animism, we have both the start of ZUN making his stories more interconnected, and ZUN getting into his pattern of making his games with tonal hopskotch. Mountain of Faith was a lighter game in musical and visual style, Subterranean Animism is a darker game. ZUN will continue to generally alternate between lighter and darker games in tone and theme starting here for most of the rest of the series' lifespan.

Undefined Fantastic Object

By now, I'm starting to get tired of the statement "You must already be consistent with the game." I'm not done saying it, but I'm getting tired of having to do so. OP pretty much echoed all of my feelings on this entry already. Fun shot types to play with, Nails-bitingly difficult patterns on normal as early as stage 3 in my experience. Heck, I'm pretty sure Kogasa still gets me with the umbrella train on bad days.

Once, someone tried to defend the game at me, telling me they'll just give me a route to follow with UFOs and stuff. Frankly, this just frustrated me. Partly because I'm stubborn and don't like being given handouts, but mostly because, If I can't even consistently get past Ichirin, how the hell am I supposed to be able to consciously follow a route? Like a route is going to magically make me normal 1cc the game every time.

That being said, this is another incredible entry on the subject of music and character additions. There's a lot of musical favorites for a lot of people in this one, and Byakuren has become one of the more popular characters at this point.

Ten Desires

Back in the day when Ten Desires came out, everyone around me seemed to be having a great time with it, and I didn't get it. No matter how hard I tried, no matter who I played as, I couldn't get a handle on the game. I don't think I knew for a while that trance mode allowed for double-pickups. It reminded me of my problem with SA, that it felt like after the first one or two extends, lives were nigh-impossible to get your hands on. And, once again, now I understand. The game is just built to force consistency. Everyone around me seemed to be having a great time with the game, but I could never get past Futo on a good day. Maybe it's because I insisted on playing Youmu, I dunno. I don't have anything else to say here that the OP hasn't said.

Also, I skipped GFW because I truly do not have anything to say about it. It's fun but too much for me.

Double Dealing Character

See OP's statement. We feel very similarly about this game; this is easily in my top 3 favorite titles in the series. I love the music, I love the characters, I love playing this game. Lives being tied to autocollection just feels so natural, I love it. Late-stage Normal Mode isn't easy, either, but I enjoyed the struggle. I enjoyed the struggle to the point that I actually gave this game's extra stage some really serious attempts for a while. They didn't go anywhere because I'm bad, but, they actually happened, which is more than I can say for most of the other games. My characters of Choice are Reimu B and Sakuya A.

Impossible Spellcard

I have not given this game the attention it deserves. It's fun, Seija is fun, read OP's words because they're better at this one than I'll be.

Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom

Earlier, OP said that Ten Desires was a divisive entry. I tend to agree with that. But hoo boy, if you asked me, Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom here is easily the most divisive entry in the series. One of my favorite fun-facts about this game and Point-Device mode, is that ZUN has literally gone on record by saying "Yo, I Wanna Be The Guy was cool, how would I replicate that in a shmup? But games like IWBTG never explain how the character can just instantly retry, so I'mma change that."

I'm fairly sure that this is a rare case where ZUN's mad drunk scientist mind to experiment with his series informed the story of the game, rather than the other way around as it usually is. As far as the game's divisiveness, I see what OP here is saying, I've heard similar things from other people, then I see how popular this game's cast is in more western fanworks and I've even seen videos of people new to touhou that are going through the series and giving their thoughts on each game, say that they really liked Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom and want to see ZUN do pointdevice mode again in another game. It's frankly wild to me how not consistent this game is with any given person.

This is the only game I've cleared with Marisa. Usually, I find Marisa too difficult to manage, between her speed (though that was changed? could've fooled me), narrow area of attack, lasers that don't feel like they do enough damage and need for higher levels of precision. However, I feel like Marisa in particular gains a very unique advantage in PointDevice mode here. Because her focused fire does the most damage (I sure fucking hope it still does, anyway) of player characters in the game, it means that she has a greater chance over her friends of shaving off the seconds needed to survive over the many tries you'll likely be taking on any given pattern. I was stuck with Reimu on Clownpiece's card Flash and Stripe, but as Marisa I was able to damage her fast enough as well as have the focused movement speed to keep pace with the moving lasers; a perfect storm that made what felt like an impossible card reasonable.

Hidden Star in Four Seasons

When I was describing my experiences with LoLK just now, that was actually a very recent playthrough. both that and this game, HSiFS, released during a lull in my attention toward Touhou and I didn't actually play them when they came out. I wouldn't play them properly for a long time after, even. I would make a proper comeback to the shmups when the next game comes out, but for a very long time, HSiFS was an enigma to me, all I really knew was that it gave us tan cirno, reimu's new catdog who I love, Narumi, two dancers and yellow yukari. Generally, me and my friends don't look particularly favorably upon the additions to the cast from this entry starting after stage 4, and we struggle to even remember the Yamanba from stage 2.

I can't comment on the mechanics, but as I have played it a little bit, I can say I'm not super fond of the seasons gimmick, and I haven't cleared it yet, but Aya is my character of choice, mostly because of lore reasons, I think Aya's story in this one is really neat.

Violet Detector

I love this game. I love this game a lot. Mostly because I am one of those insane people who's gone slightly nuts over following Sumireko's story between the 14.5 and 15.5 fighting games. A photography game with difficulty that I can generally handle even later on. I only managed to clear a little over enough of the last chunk of game to see the ending, but hey, that's an improvement over the other true photography games. This could even be a fun place to start, but story-wise, you'll be very confused if you haven't played touhou fighting games Urban Legend in Limbo and Antinomy of Common Flowers first.

Wily Beast and Weakest Creature

Another more notable shift toward tonal darkness, this is another game I absolutely love. I wouldn't recommend it as a start point over Double Dealing Character, but I do really like this game. This is the first touhou game since DDC where I really like every single character introduced in this game. I don't know how ZUN did it, but despite bringing back the UFO mechanic, it works really well here. The beast spirit mechanics, I would say combine the UFO system and the TD Trance system moreso, though I guess you can't be hit by bullets during a manual trance in TD? Anyway, I love this game, I loved another change to play with Youmu's weird charge-slashes shot type again, and combining that with the Wolf Spirit was some of the best fun I've had in this series. I've also cleared with Eagle Reimu, mostly so that I could unlock the extra stage with someone using an eagle spirit to get Saki in the extra stage dropping Yuuma's last name for a friend as a leadup into Gouyoku Ibun.

Unconnected Marketeers

Yet another resounding I love this game, I love all the characters introduced here, I think the roguelike ability card mechanic is really fun for ZUN's hopscotch back to a tonal lightness after WBaWC. This is the only windows game I cleared with every playable character, though as usual for me, I had an awful time of it with Marisa. I think this could be an alright starting point for someone getting into the series, though you're probably not building good habits here.

Also Social Commentary. ZUN is a big fan of lacing social commentary in his works.

Black Marketeers

I have only opened this game a couple of times, sadly. I really should try more, but I have some slight issues with the game, namely in its difficulty. I just can't handle some of the lunatic and boss patterns. I know I can circumvent that with the right cards, as this game exists as an extension of UM's roguelike gimmick, but, at present, whenever I think of Black Marketeers, I see one of those roguelikes where you must expect that any given run will likely fail, and I dunno, I feel like I'd rather play something like Slay the Spire where I can at least get a decent run most of the time. Fact of the matter is, the difficulty the game reaches in its later parts just sits at a point where I just can't rely on my own skill to push forward.

That's what I have to say on every shmup-centric touhou game. I do apologize if this was unwanted, but I haven't gotten a chance to voice my thoughts on a franchise I do love dearly before. Since the conversation was on the subject of a combination of personal preference and imagining how a game would work for a new player, I thought a point of view from someone who is, let's say, Not Great at these baby shmups might be helpful and constructive. OP really has a lot of good things to say on the subject, and I'm glad they made this post.

Danmaku as a genre is pretty difficult to get into. Danmaku games tend to be very arcadey, so unless you’re clearing them you’ll spend a lot of time getting beat up in the first half, which isn’t very fun. It takes quite a while to get the hang of it and to develop a sense for how things work. There are a lot more danmaku games outside of Touhou, but that’s what I know and what I want to talk about. No wasps and screens full of purple here. Not usually, anyway. I’ll go over some general pointers for people new to the genre and then evaluate each game according to how good of an entrypoint it is.

Keep reading

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 24

why did this chapter kick my ass?? damn!!!

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

soz for the unexpected delay i was moving + starting a new job + lost my grip on byakuya's slippery psyche

playing with my own headcanons for hiro and his backstory actually. bc. well. the original just is not very good at all now is it

tyyy @digitaldollsworld as always!!

Content warning tags: blood, mention of razor (not in intentional self-harm context), minor injury, nausea, panic attack, toxic obsessive stalker Toko, insecurity, mentions of self-starving

< previous - from start - next >

Byakuya drops his straight razor, and it splashes into the basin of his sink. Followed by a few droplets, hot and ruby-bright as it tracks down his jaw, vanishing almost instantly upon contact with the water.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, frozen, one hand still half-raised to his face, still curved in that loose grip. Then he braces his hands against the porcelain edge, knuckles tensing as he tries to keep them from shaking. The cut on his jaw stings, still slowly welling blood; his razor, silver and distorted, warbles in and out of sight with the water’s ripples, his eyes struggling to track its shape. He makes no move to fish it out of the water.

This was his second attempt at shaving. The evidence of his first attempt still throbs on the opposite cheek, near his ear. Despite moving glacially slow, other hand pulling the skin as taut and still as he could manage, the hard edge of the sink digging into his hip as he leaned as close to the mirror as he could, it was still proving to be a fruitless effort. The elegant blade that his mother’s family had gifted him, that he had been using since he became heir, was now simply too large and awkward for him to use. A task that should have been easy after all of Pennyworth’s guidance was now fraught with pointless danger.

…Maybe it’s not worth the trouble, he thinks, numbly. But the hollow, shattered defeatism that comes with the thought is so unfamiliar that it makes him grit his teeth, and then reach slowly into the tepid water to pull the razor out. His stubble was patchy already, especially near his jawline, and any more delay would almost certainly warrant someone commenting on it - maybe Hagakure, who couldn’t seem to keep anything to himself, or Celeste, who would delight in pointing it out while masking it as polite concern - but, at the rate he was going, he was going to draw more attention with a bloodied face.

His fingers scrape the basin, searching at a glacial pace until the edge of his thumbnail taps against the handle. He draws it out gingerly, shakes off the stray droplets, then wipes the blade with a silk cloth. Drying it carefully, meticulously - as Pennyworth had taught him, ‘it’s as good as useless if it rusts’ - before folding it and replacing it in the cupboard behind his mirror. He dries his face with the towel hanging around his neck, ignoring the way the Turkish cotton scraped against raw skin.

I could always just try again later, he reasoned with himself. Not so much as a surrender as it was a tactical retreat; and the results were bound to be better when he was calmer, more composed. He could still do it - he just needed some time.

And as for anyone who might notice it…

…Well. It wasn’t like he was spending much time around anyone else these days anyways.

—

Even if he wasn’t trying to seek out anyone else’s company, he couldn’t help but take note of their own routines, how they settled into their lives after feeling the world shake around them. 

It doesn’t surprise him that Celeste and Yamada have continued on as if nothing had happened at all. Celeste still maintains her airy simulacrum of a mysterious princess, occasionally inviting Byakuya to tea or dinner or a game of Othello, which he declines each time. Yamada, when he wasn’t offering himself up to be bullied and ordered around by her, would be in the newly-opened art room, and Byakuya could occasionally pass by to hear sounds of shuffling paper and the scrape of pens, and the harrowed, heavy breathing of a man possessed.

Ogami and Asahina are similar, returning to their athletic routine, though clearly more affected by the deaths of their classmates. They were attached at the hip before, but now Byakuya never saw one without the other, always in each other’s company, often holding hands - if Ishimaru were here, he might have decried it, ‘No PDA in the hallways!’ in that annoyingly shrill, school-bell voice - once, Byakuya had even overheard the two of them occupying the bathhouse together, when he had passed by with the intention of checking on Alter Ego’s laptop.

(He’d left quickly when he realized what they were doing, leaving the locker unchecked, his face hot and uncomfortable. It was all well and fine for them to cope how they pleased, but couldn’t they have some more decorum about occupying a public space? He was almost beginning to miss Ishimaru.)

…Speaking of Ishimaru. Even Mondo had found something to occupy his time with, these days.

It seemed that after that night with Alter Ego, something had shaken loose inside him, and he was an entirely new person. In some ways, he was even more troublesome than when he was depressed and languishing; loud, piercing, and always appearing when he was least expected, or at least it felt that way to Byakuya. Somehow materializing nearby, demanding to know what you were doing, why you weren’t adhering to some vague, obscure rule that he might’ve made up on the spot. An overgrown hall monitor that acted like every little infraction could mean life or death.

(It was all in the name of protecting the AI, but it was also getting on everyone’s nerves, and it almost made Byakuya regret ever involving himself in the biker’s business in the first place.)

Makoto and Kirigiri were doing whatever it was they were doing. Byakuya rarely saw them, and when he did, he never made any attempt to speak to either of them. It didn’t make much of a difference from his previous dynamic with Kirigiri, but with Makoto, it was almost like a repeat of what had happened just after the first trial. But this time, Makoto never made any attempt to approach him.

Which was perfectly fine by him. Regardless of Makoto’s intentions, his betrayal was unforgivable. There was no reason to associate with him any longer.

And lastly, there was Hagakure.

It’s not clear if the self-proclaimed clairvoyant had given up on Mondo, given the overnight change in personality (at the very least, there was no more need for a suicide watch anytime soon), but he seems to have latched on to Byakuya, for no clear reason. Frequently calling out to him whenever they crossed paths, dogging in his steps like a very determined stray. Chattering incessantly, even when Byakuya refused to deign any of his ridiculous stories with a response, often trying to herd him into the cafeteria so they could “lunch together, bond, maybe share a cup of joe? Even rich guys like joe, right?”

“...Did you mean ‘coffee’,” Byakuya replies in a flat, deadpan tone that was more resigned than irritated, during what must be the dozenth time that Hagakure had intercepted him, and maybe the third time he conceded to the other man’s insistence; if only because Hagakure had been particularly persistent recently, and would probably end up following him and broadcasting to Fukawa or Monokuma or anyone else exactly where Byakuya was seeking refuge, when not in his room.

(Not to mention that he was a little hungry himself, though he could only imagine the kind of common swill someone like Hagakure might consider coffee.)

“Hey man, to-MAY-toes, po-TAY-toes, right?” Hagakure just shrugs, and half-guides, half-pushes Byakuya by the shoulders into the cafeteria.

It’s midday. The place is empty, with even Celeste missing from her favored spot at her table. Hagakure shuffles him into the kitchen, tells him to wash his hands, and then-

-shoves two things at him. One, round, pale brown and still damp, with a slight papery texture beneath the moisture. The other, a piece of smooth, green plastic shaped like a ‘T’, with something silvery running parallel to the top. He skates his thumb lightly over it, and finds the edge of it sharp; a tiny blade.

“Whoa, careful! Don’t hurt yourself!” Hagakure tugs the tool back out of his hand, inspecting his fingers. “Like, come on. I even gave you the vegetable peeler, this is easy mode.”

“...What?”

Hagakure doesn’t explain right away, instead occupied with rolling up his sleeves, tying the brambled mass of his hair back with a strip of white. Arranged on the kitchen counter is a selection of tools, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and a hunk of something dark and pink, occupying the cutting board. There’s already a pot on the stove, and Byakuya watches Hagakure’s hand fiddle with some dark, invisible button across the top of the oven, and a telltale blue flame clicks to life. “We’re making gumbo! And you’re my assistant for the day.” He announces, with the same cadence of a cooking show host. He’s beaming, as if he hadn’t just said something utterly, completely insane.

“...What.”

It’s hard to make out, but he swears Hagakure rolls his eyes at him. Which would be infuriating enough to comment on, if he wasn’t also holding out the aforementioned vegetable peeler out, handle first, towards him. “Gumbo. It’s kinda like, curry I guess? But it’s a lot more soupy.” Apparently not put off by Byakuya’s unresponsiveness, he pushes the peeler into his slack hand. “I mean, I guess I’m not surprised you haven’t tried it. It’s not Japanese, or like…fancy, rich guy food.”

That snaps him out of it. “What,” He repeats, emphatically, with feeling. “Do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, like I said, making gumbo-”

“No, I mean-” Byakuya waves the objects in his hands, and feels only a little ridiculous in doing so. “I’m not- using these.”

Hagakure winces at that. “...No offense, Toga, but, uh…” He hesitates. “It’s…not exactly a good idea to give you a knife right now, you feel me?”

Byakuya can imagine his eyes tracing down his face, to the still-pink line on his jaw from this morning, and feels his face grow even warmer, with nothing to do with the open-flame stove not a meter away from him. “That. Is. Not. The. Point.” He hisses, emphasizing each word. “And - don’t call me that - you said we were here to get coffee.”

He spits these words like they’re poisonous, and Hagakure is still for a moment. He thinks that he’s managed to get his point across, but:

“Aww, Togster…you really did wanna get coffee with me?” Hagakure sounds genuinely touched, one hand pressed to his chest. Byakuya was about two seconds from throwing the stupid root vegetable in his hand against Hagakure’s equally stupid head. “We can have coffee after we make food. Besides, aren’t you sick of the meals we’ve been doing recently? Like I’m not a picky guy, but ramen and bread every day for the past few days is getting kinda���bleh, y’know?”

The worst part of this was that Byakuya agreed with him on that front. Even with his newfound habit of only eating when there was no one else around, or when Alter Ego threatened to stop reading for him until he took a meal, the selection was paltry to begin with and had only grown more unappealing with time.

“Your job is easy,” Hagakure continues, and grabs something hanging off the handle of a nearby oven, and drops it over his face, obscuring his vision for a moment. He jerks backwards in alarm as it settles to hang around his neck, only to realize that it’s an apron - a pale, mint-green thing that’s one size too small, with some still-visible stains splattered across it, and Hagakure had somehow gotten behind him and tied the thing in place already  - “You just gotta peel the potatoes, and I just gotta cut everything up. The roux’s already done, so all we gotta do is dump the ingredients in and let it do its thing.”

Byakuya is still reeling a little from being forced (though, there wasn’t much he could’ve done in protest, with both his hands occupied) into an apron. The things in his hands are so unfamiliar to him that they may as well be OOPart pieces in the making.

Besides him, Hagakure was whistling away, chopping meat with the silver blur of a large kitchen knife. Completely oblivious to anything around him; and Byakuya realized, he could leave right now if he wanted, and it wasn’t like the fortune-teller, of all people, could stop him.

He’s about to do just that when the other man looks up, knife stilling. “Something wrong?” He asks, with a tilt of his head. And before Byakuya could explain that, yes, there was something very wrong with this entire situation: “D’you need help?”

“No.” He says automatically, and immediately kicks himself for it.

“Oh, then-?”

“I don’t-” Byakuya says at the same time, and frowns sharply at the interruption. “I. Don’t do this sort of…thing.” It comes out a lot less assertive than he would like, and sounds a lot more pathetic than he means it to be.

“Oh. Well, yeah, I figured.” Hagakure shrugs, as he scoops up the mess of pink on the cutting board with the edge of his knife and drops it into a metal bowl. It lands with a loud, wet slap, and the bowl rings as it shakes against the counter. “No time to learn like the present though, right?”

Byakuya feels his eye twitch. In some ways, talking to Hagakure was more frustrating than negotiating with most white-collar businessmen, and more akin to arguing against a very enthusiastic wall. “I’m not supposed to do this kind of thing,” He tries again. “I’ve never had to prepare my own food in my life.”

It echoes what he told Makoto, that night he dragged Byakuya to the kitchen to prepare him a meal. But this time, it feels much less like a boast, and more like an admission. Like he couldn’t even do this much.

If Hagakure noticed the grimace passing over his face, he made no comment. Instead, he plucks the items out of Byakuya’s hands. “No time to learn like the present, my man.” He twirls the peeler between his fingers, and it spins, a foggy green circle. “It’s like a pattern, you pull the peeler down, turn it again, and repeat.” He demonstrates, hands moving quickly, with practiced ease. “Don’t worry if you miss anything. We don’t need it to be super clean, we just need most of the skin off.”

And he offers the peeler back to Byakuya, a gleam of white teeth on his face. Deceptively kind, poisonously pleasant. “Think you can handle that?”

Byakuya shoves his hand away, his patience thinning to a thread. “Take the hint,” He snaps, reaching behind himself to try and undo the knot. “I’m not doing this.”

“What? But it’s easy!”

“I don’t care,” He yanks at the ties, feels them come no closer to being loosened, and feels his face reddening with frustration, humiliation. He needs to leave, now. “I’m leaving.”

“Aw, Toga, come on-”

Byakuya reaches for the knife, left abandoned on the cutting board, and there’s a clatter as Hagakure backs himself against the ovens. “O-okay, okay, sure! Sure, jesus, okay!”

Byakuya rolls his eyes at the overreaction, already tuning him out, then starts awkwardly maneuvering the knife to try and cut the apron off. Arms twisting awkwardly to catch the bladed edge against the side of the knot. It’s not easy - he could swear, the blade seemed sharp enough when Hagakure was using it to dice meat, but now it slides clumsily against the twisted cotton, dull as a stone -

“Jesus,” Hagakure says again, but less panicked now that it was clear his life was under no immediate threat. “Okay, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I am not-”

“You totally are, man. Just - don’t slash me, please, and hold still -”

Hagakure gives him a wide, cautious berth, as if still worried he would suddenly turn into some violent, knife-swinging killer, edging until he’s out of Byakuya’s peripheral and standing behind him. A slight tug around his midsection later, and the apron is flapping loosely against his stomach.

To show his thanks, Byakuya sets the knife down before he pulls off the apron, not so much as handing it over as simply dropping it in the other boy’s direction.

He makes to leave, but Hagakure stops him - or tries to, throwing one hand out while scrambling to catch the apron with the other - “Wait, wait,” He still sounds jovial, but there’s a thin edge of nervousness to it now, residual after the earlier scare. “Listen, you don’t hafta help if you don’t want to, but like…can you just hang out? Here?”

“...You want me to stay. In the kitchen.” Where it was overly warm with a pot of water building into a steady boil, heavy with the smell of various condiments and spices, and pervaded by a general stickiness on the tile. “Why?”

“U-um, well…”

Byakuya sighs. He’s wasted too much time already. The coffee he was promised earlier was looking like a lost cause, and frankly, he wasn’t interested in eating anything anymore either. It would feel too much like accepting undue pity, somehow.

Apparently sensing his impatience, Hagakure finally blurts out: “Because-! I’m, um, scared! To be alone! So…”

Byakuya only stares. Even with his hair tied back, the shape of Hagakure’s head is still a round, dark splotch, albeit smaller than usual. And it bobs up and down like a dandelion as he ducks his head, hands clasped in an exaggerated plea. “Please, man, I literally can’t ask anyone else,” He begs. “Mondo’s all psyched-out and freaky serious now, Hifumi and Celeste were weirdos to begin with, and I’m sick of third-wheeling for Hina-chi and Saka-chi! And there’s no way I’m hanging out with Toko!”

He doesn’t mention Makoto or Kirigiri. Which, Byakuya assumes, makes sense, so he doesn’t bother to ask about it. “How do I know you aren’t trying to kill me,” He says instead, deadpan. 

Hagakure snorts. “Have you seen me?” And then immediately winces. “I mean - shit, sorry - but seriously, I’m pissing my pants every time Monokuma shows up. And at every crime scene, and every trial. You really think I could get over myself to off someone?”

“None of Monokuma’s motives struck a chord with you?”

“Well - I’d be lying if the first one didn’t make me nervous,” He nods. “But I divined how my parents were doing a bunch of times, and they were always alright, so that didn’t worry me too much. And the thing about secrets; well, mine is that I’m actually on the run from this yakuza boss I accidentally pissed off. I owe him a debt of eight million yen.”

Byakuya is certain he doesn’t miss the way Hagakure glances at him then, based on the way his ponytail twitches as his head turns imperceptibly. He decides to ignore the obvious bait, and moves on: “Fine, then. Then what’s your reasoning that I won’t try to kill you?”

“Oh.” Hagakure pauses. “...I didn’t, uh…think about that.”

Right. Byakuya can’t find it in him to be surprised about that either, though some bruised-up part of his pride does rail against the implication that he wasn’t dangerous. Like being blind meant he was harmless, helpless, defanged - he struggles against the implication, but only sickens himself more with the truth of it.

“I mean…do you want to kill me?”

Byakuya snorts. “I want to leave,” He leans back against the counter, feeling the hard, smooth edge of the marble dig against his back. “Obviously, I’m not crazy enough to spend the rest of my life here, waiting to kill or be killed.” He pauses. “And…I’ve been looking into possible causes for my…circumstance, and it’s looking more and more like it would require the work of a trained doctor, using specific equipment to resolve. Which this place,” He gestures around him. “Isn’t exactly equipped to handle.”

The other boy scratches his head. “Um, yeah. I mean I know that much. We all wanna get out and all, but like…do you want to kill someone to make that happen?”

Not in the slightest. He probably held responsibility for the deaths of multiple people at this point, but he had never had to kill them himself, nor witness the moment of their end. Dirtying his hands with someone else’s blood never appealed to him, and it was far more sophisticated to orchestrate someone else handling the messy work.

But his answer must show on his face, because Hagakure nods, satisfied. “Well, there you go! Also, I ran a divination on whether one of us would die today, and it’s not in the cards or the stars or divine intention, so we’re good!” He claps his hands. “Anyways. If you don’t wanna help, that’s all totally cool. All you gotta do is stick around.”

“You can’t be serious.” He scoffs. But he was getting sick of the earlier conversation - sick of talking about himself, sick of thinking about himself - so he stays where he is, crossing his arms as Hagakure busies himself with the ingredients. “How do your divinations even work, anyways?”

“What, you interested?” Hagakure flashes another white smile, and even through the haze Byakuya gets the impression that it’s a salesman grin. He could practically hear the cartoonish chime of a register. “My current going rate’s ten-million yen a reading, but for you I’ll throw in a buddy’s discount of twenty-percent!”

Byakuya gives him the most unimpressed look he can manage. “I’m not interested in wasting money on frivolities.”

“It’s not frivol-anything, man. They’re a hundred-percent legit! …Thirty-three-percent of the time,” He amends, sheepishly, at Byakuya’s withering stare. “But when they’re real, they’re real! With a hundred-percent accuracy!”

As he talks, his hands blur, moving with practiced ease. The small pile of potatoes changing from brown to pale yellow, to small, misshapen chunks, the green stalks of celery disintegrating under a knife, sharp-smelling and darkening the wood beneath it with its moisture. There’s a steady, fluid grace to it, and Byakuya watches on, feeling a sense of deja vu - faintly envious, partly entranced - the last he felt this way, he recalls, was being a child and watching his mother work in her studio, hewing faces out of stone.

He hasn’t thought about that memory in years, and he clicks his tongue sharply, irritated. Hagakure jumps at the sound. “M-maybe it’s more like a ninety-eight percent accuracy?” The fortune-teller tries, hurriedly. “Uh, it depends on how clearly I can convey it, I mean. Like how good the client is with understanding me…dialect differences and all that, though my English is pretty solid-”

“Why fortune-telling, anyways?” He cuts off Hagakure’s rambling. “I can’t imagine it’s an inherited position. You don’t seem the type to be taking up someone else’s legacy.”

“Oh! Well…” He turns to the pot, scrapes a bowl of brown slurry into its bubbling contents. “It was my dad who got me into it - not that he was a fortune teller or anything - but he knew stories about fortune tellers and priestesses and stuff, from where he grew up. It was pretty interesting, and I guess that’s what got me started.” He stirs, sniffs, tosses a handful of green shapes into the mix. “He actually bought me my first crystal ball, though it was just a cheap souvenir thing. I couldn’t’ve been older than, like, six or something.” He laughs. “Wow, I haven’t thought about this stuff in forever.”

“Am I dredging up bad memories?” Byakuya drawls, and Hagakure shakes his head.

“Nah, just old ones. But I got super into it; started begging my Ma to read me divination textbooks for bedtime, she thought I was going crazy. Dad just said it was normal for little kids to be a little crazy about something they like, though.” He shrugs. Another sniff, a sprinkle of red seasoning. “He was the first person I did an accurate divination for, actually. Like a real divination, not just for pretend.”

He goes quiet for a moment, wooden spoon scraping against the inside of the pot. Byakuya frowns. “And what did you ‘see’?” He asks, though only about half as sarcastic as he intended.

“Saw him in the hospital. And then leaving.” He replies simply. He turns, and scoops up the chopped ingredients in his hands, tossing them in with a hiss. “It was clear as day in that little glass ball, like I was watching a TV screen, except also kinda…I don’t know, wiggly? Like a dream. But I got shook up so bad I dropped it and broke the damn thing, and the next day my Dad went to the doctor for a check-up, and they shipped him to the hospital right after. Some genetic, hereditary thing, they wouldn’t even tell me what it was. I think Ma thought it’d freak me out if I knew, but I was just more freaked out not knowing.”

He reaches blindly behind him, searching hand patting at the counter, the cutting board. Byakuya hesitates, then grabs the bowl of chopped meat and passes it over. Its contents splash into the pot. “Thanks. Anyways, the weirdest thing was that I wasn’t, like, scared he was gonna die, or anything. For some reason I knew he was gonna make it, but I was more worried that he was gonna…hurt? Get even worse?” He pauses. “I kept on doing divinations afterwards with a tarot card set, just to see how he was doing, and each time it told me he was gonna be fine.”

His voice sounds a little thick, indistinct. Byakuya was beginning to regret bringing up this topic; he would hate it if he was suddenly expected to have to comfort a grown man. But instead of bursting into tears, Hagakure leans to the side, tucks his face into his elbow, and sneezes, gunshot loud. “Phew! Jeez, the paprika.” He sniffs, and Byakuya’s unease turns back into a comfortable sort of annoyance. “Anyways. Where was I…?”

“...Your father.” He hesitates for a moment. “When he passed away.”

“When he-?” Hagakure turns fully away from the pot to stare at him, mouth open, before breaking into a laugh. Doubling over so and wheezing like he just got punched. “Dude! No way, are you- did you really think that?!”

“What? Am I wrong?” Byakuya feels his face heating red again, with nothing to do with the steam. “Shut up. The way you were talking about it, you were acting like he kicked the bucket,” He snaps, and Hagakure stifles another laugh. “It’s the logical progression of things. You saw him get sick and die, and then-”

“No, no, dude, I said I saw him in the hospital, and then leave - oh, yeah, I guess I can see how you’d think that now.” He stands up straight again, swiping a hand across his face. “Oh man. No, I meant ‘leave’ as in literally leaving, like at an airport? He got better and swung back around, but got a job offer overseas right after, so he never really came back to settle permanently in Japan.” He turns back to the pot, turning the heat down low. “He sends postcards for me all the time, and he and Ma vacation together every year around the holidays.”

So that was it. Byakuya feels an irrational surge of exasperation, as if all his previous pity had just been wasted. “What does he even do? Your father?”

“He teaches quantum mechanics.” At Byakuya’s stunned expression, he snorts. “What, I’m not kidding! He test-runs all his lectures and speeches and stuff to me, and now I know way more about that stuff than I think most people ever need to!”

‘Prove it’ is on the tip of Byakuya’s tongue, but he holds back. He probably would never recover if Hagakure did somehow manage it and make him look like a fool. Hagakure stirs the pot in silence for a moment longer, before asking: “What about you?”

“What?”

“Your parents.” A shot of cold immediately runs down his spine. “Like, I know your dad’s a big rich unmarried bachelor hotshot, but what about your mom? Ah- ” Hagakure presses hand to his mouth. “She…is she, like…?”

“She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” He replies, stiffly. “We’re estranged.”

“O-oh. Um. I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine.” He pauses, looks down at the tile floor. It was a mutual disavowment, around the time he made the decision to try for Togami heir. She was relieved to be rid of him, he was sure, and he was glad to be out of her house full of stone statues and hollow eyes. “I haven’t been in contact with her for several years. We’re as good as strangers.”

He really should just leave it at that. There’s no reason to elaborate any further, nor does he want to; he glares down at his feet, trying to count the tiles, and watches as the dark lines dividing them squiggle and disappear the moment he loses focus. And finds his mouth moving against his will. “My mother is Genevieve Delasol.”

“Cool.” A pause. “Wait, what!?”

Byakuya scowls and looks away as Hagakure turns back to him. “Like, the Delasol?! World-famous artist lady? With the sculptures? Miss Modern Michelangelo?!”

“Don’t call her that.” She had always hated that stupid nickname that the press forced on her, and so did he, though not for her benefit. It was a tasteless, and frankly disrespectful moniker. “But yes. Her.”

“Dude…” There’s awe in his voice, as if it were something impressive. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s not. She birthed me like any other human.”

“Still! Like, they talked about her in my elementary school art class. Her stuff is so-” He splays his fingers near his head, puffs his cheeks to mimic the sound of an explosion. “Like, I remember seeing pictures of her stuff for the first time, and it freaked me out. One of the older kids in the neighborhood told me she was freezing people into rock, that’s how real her stuff looks.”

“She’s a good artist, but she was an awful mother.” Byakuya says flatly, immediately draining the rest of Hagakure’s enthusiasm. “We’re not continuing his conversation.”

“Right, right. Um. Sorry.” He taps his fingers against the spoon, ladles some of it into a little dish to taste. “Okay, um. Could you pass me some dishes? From that cabinet in front of you - to the left - yeah, thanks.”

The concoction he scoops into the shallow dishes Byakuya hands him is…unappealing. At least visually - a muddy brown sludge that glops thickly off of his ladle - but it smells good, spicy and warm. One of the bowls is passed back, and there’s a conflict of sensation as Byakuya tries to decide if he’s hungry enough to risk it, something that he couldn’t even clearly oversee the process of making.

“You’re surprisingly well-versed in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, well. I get into hot water a lot when my fortunes don’t work out, especially with my, uh…higher class clients, so I had to get used to taking care of myself. Didn’t wanna bother my parents with it, ya know?” He flicks off the stove, covers the pot, and reaches to the right for the rice cooker. Opens it with a sharp smack to the lid. “Like, I don’t think I’ve seen my dad face-to-face in…it feels like two years. Maybe longer.”

He holds out his hand. Byakuya passes over his bowl, and he plops some rice into the center of it, before handing it back.

“I can’t finish this much.”

“Sure you can, you’re a growing guy.” There’s the roll of a drawer being pulled open, then a clatter before a spoon is being dropped into his bowl as well. “You better eat all of it, by the way. Every grain of rice has seven gods, so you gotta eat them all so you don’t get cursed.”

“...What kind of saying is that?”

“Dunno, but my Ma used to say it all the time. Come on, let’s go into the caf-”

He halts suddenly, halfway to the door. Byakuya nearly runs into his back, and just barely keeps from spilling his bowl. “What-”

“Um. Hold on.” The previous casualness of his voice is gone, and there’s a hard thread of unease running through it again. “Uh…wait out here for a moment, okay?”

“Why-”

“Dude, please. Just for a moment.” He sets his bowl down on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

And then he’s out the door before Byakuya can make any protest, leaving him alone in the kitchen, now uncomfortably quiet without the soft hiss of the stove. He stands there, stunned, feeling a little bit stung - no, irked - at the sudden dismissal.

He wasn’t about to take orders from Hagakure, regardless of whatever weird pseudo-symbiotic-relationship the other boy thought they had going on. He walks towards the door, moving to elbow it open-

“I’m telling you, just leave him alone.”

He freezes, ducking his head down. Hagakure’s voice is high and scratchy with nervousness, but firm despite that. “For the last time-”

“I-I-I-” Someone else stutters. The voice is familiar, and Byakuya feels his gut drop in recognition. The last he heard it, it was seething with malice, spit like venom at his feet. “I j-just wanna l-look at him…”

Hagakure lets out a long-suffering sigh, indicating that this wasn’t the first time he’s had to deal with this. “Seven hells, Toko, I really don’t get you,” He grumbles. “You said you hated him, right? I mean, you said so at the trial, and you did…all that.” He coughs. “He wasn’t interested to begin with, and there’s really no way to turn it around after that.”

“I-It was t-to prove that we’re th-the same!” Fukawa shrieks, trigger-sudden and indignant. There’s a sharp thump as she stomps her foot, hard enough to rattle some nearby furniture. “If I d-didn’t do that, he w-would’ve never a-accepted what h-happened to him!”

Byakuya frowns at that, and sets the bowl aside in favor of sinking into a half-crouch, ear pressing up against the door, beneath the tiny window. What was she talking about? Not accepting my own condition? Don’t I know myself better than anyone else?

“That’s not up to you to decide,” Hagakure starts.

“I-It’s not up t-to you to p-protect him either!” She spits back. “Y-you’ve been keeping him a-away from me recently, wh-what’s with you? D-did you have some k-kind of awakening, or something?!”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my type is none of your business - and anyways, ain’t it logical to wanna keep away from you?” He grumbles, then yelps. “C-calm down-! I just mean - you know, you…you don’t exactly give off warm and fuzzy feelings about hanging out with people!”

Toko barks a laugh, shrill and mirthless. “Wh-which makes him perfect for me,” And Byakuya feels disgust roll down his back. “I-I know I’m m-miserable, a-and unfriendly and unloveable,”

“Hey,” Hagakure says, a little more gently than before.

“B-but s-so is he! H-he’s just b-better at hiding it, p-pretending to be a, a perfect, white-horse prince,” She spits the words vehemently. “I-if he was p-perfect, th-then maybe, I c-could just be s-satisfied with - with being n-near him, with b-being used…”

She trails off. Byakuya fights the urge to physically cringe at the mere suggestion, instead gritting his teeth, nails scratching lightly against the door’s tacky surface. “B-but, he’s not perfect. S-so, that means I c-can reach him - i-it’s possible for someone l-like m-me to actually be with him,” She giggles, and the sound is far too childishly delighted to suit her mouth, and far too chilling to have innocent intentions behind it. “I-I dragged him off his p-pedestal, s-so now I can actually touch him.”

It’s vile, listening to her. The sound feels like a filth that clings to him, sliding into his ears, contaminating him from the inside out. Poisoning him, paralyzing him.

He’s only vaguely aware of his body sliding down lower, unable to maintain the awkward pose, curled over and unable to brace himself properly against the swinging door. He sinks into a squat, ears straining.

“...Um, ew.” Hagakure mutters succinctly. “Okay, first of all, no you can’t. Pretty sure Monokuma would have some problems about that, he’s all gung-ho about decency and stuff. Second, Toga’s still not gonna be into you. You blew that chance when you, uh…”

“When I w-what? S-strung up Chihiro?” She snorts. “H-he would’ve done the s-same if h-he was a-actually as perfect as h-he said.”

The contamination sinks deeper, claws curling cruelly into his chest. I would have never, He thinks through the tinny, lightheaded hum in his skull, but there’s a sickening sense of dread that twists in his stomach as he realizes he can’t even be sure of that. He might have. He would’ve had no use for Chihiro if he wasn’t blind, he would have barely even hesitated if the opportunity was there - to defile someone else’s corpse for nothing more than his own self-righteousness.

He’s probably had this realization already, but it’s revolting to hear it come from Fukawa. He should go out there, tell her to shut up, to leave him be-

“-a-and anyways, y-you still didn’t t-tell me why y-you’re so obsessed with p-protecting him.” She’s still saying, distantly, and it feels as if the door is suddenly several times thicker than it was previously, muffling the sound dramatically. “Y-you don’t have a-anything in c-common, I don’t s-see why you’d want t-to be near him, u-unless…y-you’re doing it for someone else, aren’t y-you?”

Hagakure doesn’t respond. Makes no sound to confirm or deny it. Byakuya waits, ringing intensifying, disease festering into his lungs. It was getting hard to breathe. His pulse thrums in his ears, too loud to think, not nearly loud enough to drown their voices out.

“I s-saw you with Makoto,” She continues, and the confirmation of Byakuya’s suspicion does nothing to make him feel better. “He- he asked you t-to do this, right? To protect him, h-how nice,” She snarls, disgusted. “L-looking out for his p-precious boyfriend, when he won’t d-do it himself-”

“That’s…that’s not it,” Hagakure protests, but he doesn’t sound convincing, voice so hesitant and soft that Byakuya barely catches it. “Mako-chi’s just…busy, right now-”

“Y-yeah, too busy trying to g-get out of here so Byakuya c-can get fixed, so he can s-stop f-feeling guilty - h-he doesn’t want to have to look at him, b-but he can’t help s-sticking his nose in anyways, he’s s-so sweet it makes me sick.” Byakuya legs shake, cramping, but he forces himself still, keeps his ear flattened to the door despite the nausea building in his gut, the light-headedness in his temples - “B-but it’s too much work t-to comfort him or drag him a-around, s-so he has to get s-someone to do it, right?”

He wouldn’t, is Byakuya’s immediate thought, but it’s weak, even in his own head. Makoto hasn’t sought him out all since that night in the bathhouse because Byakuya had requested it; had demanded that he leave him alone with as much vitriol and firmness as he could muster, and as with so many other things, Makoto had obeyed. But while Fukawa’s words are acerbic and biting, they’re also painfully, terribly logical.

He wonders now, how he must have looked to the others. Slowly falling apart, barely eating, rarely showing his face. So utterly different from how he tried to portray himself at first, an ill-fitted facsimile of how he used to be, how he should be; it’s no wonder Makoto would go behind his back to take care of him. Between disobeying him again and trying to keep him alive, the choice must have been easy.

The fact that that choice had to be made at all, however, made Byakuya want to…

There’s a thud as his legs finally give out, his knees smashing against the tile, but he hardly notices. Not while the sickness spreads, a physical decay in his torso eating away at him, swift and insatiable. He’s not hungry anymore, but he feels emptier than he’s ever been. 

The door swings open suddenly, bumping against his shoulder, and he sways, unsteady. Hands reach out, catching him before he can fall over.

“Whoa, hey,” Hagakure sounds muffled, underwater. He hooks his hands beneath Byakuya’s arms, trying to pull him upright, and only then does Byakuya realize that he’s not really breathing. Probably hasn’t been for the past few minutes. “Toga- I mean- you okay?” 

Of course not, he wants to snap, but talking would mean opening his mouth, and that would mean breaking down into tears like a petulant infant, so he clamps his mouth shut and tries to get as much oxygen as he can through his nose. Slow, stuttered, wheezing breaths, teeth sinking into raw, just-healing skin and breaking it bloody all over again. He leans away from Hagakure’s grip as much as possible and tries to brace himself against the wall, shaky hands against the cool bumps of the tile. Trying to count them, one by one.

“I,” He manages to grit out when he was marginally more calm, ignoring Hagakure’s worried clucking. His voice quavers, and he swallows hard around the shrapnel lodged in his throat. “I’m going to go.”

“Dude, come on-”

He lurches forward, clumsily dodging Hagakure’s attempts to support him, and walks as steadily as he can out of the kitchen. The moment he crosses the open space of the cafeteria and into the hallway, he breaks into a sprint for his room. As far away from prying eyes as he can manage.

__

(When he opens his door later that night, he finds a plastic container and a spoon sitting by the threshold, its contents long cold.)

(He eats it anyways and scrapes it clean, and leaves it sitting empty outside of his door again.)

< previous - from start - next >

[zer0point5ive]

lawrence didn’t do anything wrong he is an angel everything he did was because h[someone brings up alison] yeah i think he should be chained up again. better yet, taken out back and shot for his crimes

[askunwantedguestnarrator]

Hey. I think you need cheered up. Here's Ollie for your troubles! He's my Narrator!

[mcytegg]

i really REALLY want ro and minute to team again one day bc minute's inherent distrust of ro's ability to stay loyal if there's a mapicc out there is genuinely so funny

[notecardpasta]

experiment

[essenceofarda]

.

[aetheros]

stop saying intrusive when you mean impulsive

stop saying intrusive when you mean impulsive

stop saying intrusive when you mean impulsive

[cuteniarose]

@katkastrofa: *forgets a few OCs when making a list because it’s been a long day, she’s tired and brain farts happen to everyone occasionally*

[loyaltyforged]

unmasked. hhhh…

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

My day be so fine then BOOM

Intrusive thoughts

[mcltiples]

{ OOC } i'm probably gonna disappear for like the rest of the day, mood drop is making me feel like i'm annoying, so i'm just gonna skedaddle and focus on watching a movie

[technicolorxsn]

hm. mixed feelings

[mechahero]

//Still floating that little dream world idea around. And then started brainstorming what Lambda's might be like. So far, toying around with landscape ideas such as there being a sky with building bits smushed together, floating a nice blue sky with all the other items that can be seen floating in there. Lambda's hanging outside this big green building in the center. You can travel through it!

You are not supposed to go past Floor 1.

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[effervescent-fool]

her only excuse for not wanting a son is that her son before me passed away. she's told me that multiple times, and it's never once made a single shred of sense