#the way i draw fuyuhiko changes every two seconds…

[faunsoda]

these guys

[drchiakinanami]

Us (Fuyupeko)

Rating: General/teen

Summary: She doesn’t wake up for months.No one does, for awhile, but he wasn’t upset about that.  The only thing that mattered was her waking up.

Read it on AO3 here!

She doesn’t wake up for months.

No one does, for awhile, but he wasn’t upset about that.  The only thing that mattered was her waking up.

The pods were all in a circle around the main hub that the Neo-World Program, both victims and blackened surrounding it, looking as though they were sleeping peacefully.

Fuyuhiko sat next to Peko’s pod every day, to the point where the others were starting to get worried about him.  Sometimes it would seem like she’d moved, even though that wasn’t possible- his eyes were just playing cruel tricks on him.  He talked to her sometimes too, but that felt weird most of the time, so he ended up just being in her company most of the time.

Hajime joined him every once in awhile.  It was sort of unspoken that he was going to be the ‘leader’ among them.  He was the most level-headed, since he had a little bit of Izuru in him still, and his logical thoughts almost freaked Fuyuhiko out some of the time.   He was so different than he’d been in the simulation. But really, everyone was different.  Those were different people.

The days were long.  Sometimes he’d talk to Peko, and tell her how things were going.  “You know,” he’d tell her, “Sonia decided she wants to learn to cook.  She’s never had to because of all that princess shit. It’s kinda funny.  I think you’d laugh.”

He wished she would wake up and laugh. Or just stare.  It didn’t really matter. It had been such a long time since he’d seen her eyes.  

“You should really eat something,” Hajime said, feet kicked up on a stool he’d brought in from his cottage.

Fuyuhiko was leaning his elbows on his knees, watching Peko’s still face.  “I ate this morning.”

“I meant eating with everyone else, in the hotel,” Hajime said gently, “It would probably be good for you to have some conversation.”

“We talk.”

“Yeah, we do.”  Hajime said, “But I talk to Kazuichi too, and Sonia and Akane go do girl stuff together.  You don’t really hang out with us.”

“You miss Chiaki, don’t you?” Fuyuhiko snapped suddenly, looking over at Hajime with a sort of anger he wasn’t sure even he understood.

Hajime’s eyebrows went up and his face took on a bit of a shield. For a moment, Fuyuhiko felt guilty for bringing her up and almost took it back, but Hajime answered his question anyway.

“Of course I miss Chiaki,” he said softly, looking away from Fuyuhiko.  “I miss her every day.”

“So you’re saying if she was in a pod right now, you wouldn’t spend every moment with her until she woke up?”

Hajime blew out his cheeks. “I can’t say that I would or wouldn’t, but Chiaki wanted us to move forward.  She would’ve… Probably yelled at me, to the best of her ability, if I spent all my time by her side when she wasn’t awake to know I was there.”

Fuyuhiko let out a short laugh. “I can’t imagine her yelling at anyone.”

Hajime laughed too, though it was weaker.  “Yeah. Me either.”

****

Though he didn’t like it, Fuyuhiko took Hajime’s advice to heart and started spending time with the others.  They didn’t seem to know how to handle it first, and Akane specifically asked him what his deal was, but he just laughed them off and tried to act as normal as possible.

But then people started waking up.

Gundham woke up first, shouting about the Dark Lord never being fully able to die, but he softened up real quick when Sonia started crying.  Fuyuhiko looked away when he offered her a hug, feeling a stab of pain go through him. He noticed Hajime left the room.

Hiyoko and Ibuki were next, both of them disoriented and Ibuki far quieter than usual.  Hiyoko called two people stupid once she woke up, so at least one of them was normal.

Fuyuhiko fell into his old habits when the others started coming out of their comas, sitting by Peko and praying to God she’d be the next one up.

Nagito woke up.

Nekomaru woke up.

Mikan woke up, apologizing.

Byakuya woke up, though none of them could say with one hundred percent certainty what his real name was.

Hajime left each event earlier.  Fuyuhiko stayed later.

Mahiru and Teru Teru woke up too, leaving just Peko.  And Mahiru was too nice to him about the whole damn thing for him to even yell at her or say something snarky.  She should hate him, after all.

But more than anything, Fuyuhiko didn’t understand the order of things.  Peko was the strongest person he knew, and he knew she could pull herself out of this.  So why wasn’t she?  

A few more days passed, and Hajime started bringing him food instead of arguing that he should be hanging out with the others.  If anyone got it, it was Hajime. He went on lots of long walks by himself for hours, after all.

“You know, you should probably wake up soon,” Fuyuhiko said softly one night when it was far too late for him to even be up.  “I can’t do this much longer on my own, Kazuichi is driving me fuckin’ crazy since Gundham woke up. He’s loud as shit.”

He heard a huff from beneath the glass.

His eyes grew wide.  “Peko?”

The pressurized inside of the pod disengaged and the glass on the pod slid back.  Fuyuhiko didn’t even breathe for several moments, leaning forward to stare into her face. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, staring up at him.

Fuyuhiko felt himself tearing up. “Peko?”

She blinked, opening and closing her mouth.  She sat up a little, struggling to support herself.  “Young master?”

Unable to help himself, he sat next to her on the bed and pulled her into a loose hug so she could get out if she wanted to.  She was stiff in his arms for a couple moments, then wrapped her arms around his waist, settling her cheek against his chest.  

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked her.

She nodded against his chest. “Everything.”

He let out a shaky sigh and pulled back to look at her, still holding onto her shoulders.  Peko’s arms were still around him as well, and once she got a good look at him, she reached up and touched the skin under his eye with delicate fingers. He’d almost forgotten that his eye, or Junko’s eye, rather, had been removed from the socket, and he was actually needing to wear an eye patch again.

“Is it gone?” Peko asked softly.

“Yeah.  Yeah, it’s gone.” She snatched her hands back suddenly and sat up a little straighter.  “My apologies, young master, I seem to have overstepped-”

“Nah, you can cut that shit out,” he said softly, cutting her off.  “I don’t want you to call me that. Not anymore. You and me, we’re equals.”

She nodded, though she seemed unsure. “Then would it be alright… If I hugged you again?”

He didn’t even answer, just pulled her up against him once more.  She sighed almost inaudibly and hugged him as tight as her feeble muscles would let her.  Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure what he had expected from their reunion after all this time, but this was the best possible outcome, in his opinion.  

“Do you want anything? Like some water, or something to eat? Or maybe you want to go back to sleep?”

She shook her head.  “No. I want to get up.”

“Okay, yeah, we can do that. I can help, if you want.  We could go down to the beach?”

“We’re on a beach?”

“Yeah.  Jabberwock island.  It’s real, we were just on a… Virtual one.  I’ll explain later.”

She was wearing a thick grey nightgown, so Fuyuhiko didn’t ask her if she wanted to change, but he helped her to her feet and helped her drape one arm around his neck.  Their height difference actually made it easier for her to lean against him. He led her down to the beach slowly, hoping no one else would see them. He wanted her to himself for a little while longer.  

Peko sighed when they got out into the sun.  She stopped walking and tilted her head back, letting the sunlight kiss her face.  Fuyuhiko watched her, once more in awe of her. Not that he ever really stopped feeling that way.  After a few moments, she felt him staring at her and glanced down at him, blushing lightly.

“I’m sorry,” She said, “Let’s keep walking.”

“No, we can stay still if you want to. I don’t mind.  You don’t have to worry about what I want anymore, you know.”

“Ah… I’m not sure I can do that.”

She looked a little unsure, and he watched her for another few seconds.  “Man, I fuckin’ missed you.”

She blushed, rather uncharacteristically, but Fuyuhiko thought it was cute, so he didn’t want to say anything drawing attention to it.  Instead they just kept walking, down to the beach, and Peko started to direct him towards the water.

“Whoa, be careful,” he reached around to take her hand that was farthest from him.  They were very close now. “Your muscles probably aren’t what they used to be.”

She sighed.  “No, they aren’t.”

“Hey, don’t be discouraged.  Nekomaru was bedridden for a day before he could get up.  You’re already doing better than him.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Peko said softly, as though she hadn’t heard his last words at all.  “In the end, I wanted to save you. I wasn’t expecting you to come after me, during the execution. It… Surprised me.”

“Well, you would’ve  done the same for me.”

“Of course.”

He knew what she meant- he knew she was sincere.  She would’ve done it for him even if she hadn’t been a tool.  They’d been friends before her training, they’d grown up together. “No, like, I mean… Shit, I mean if I’d done it, killed Mahiru, it would’ve been to protect you.”

“My life is not that-”

“Peko, I would die for you.”

She blinked hard, like she hadn’t expected that and didn’t know if she could believe it or not.  He kept eye contact with her so she would know that he was serious.

“Forgive me, young master, I think it would be best if I sat for a moment.  I’m getting dizzy.”

“Hey, you don’t have to say sorry,” he replied, helping her to sit on the sand.  She let out a sigh and sagged forward a bit once she was sitting.

He shifted a little uncomfortably next to her. “I… I would get if you don’t wanna be around me anymore, you don’t have to, but if you do, you don’t have to call me that shit.  Just Fuyuhiko is fine.”

She turned wide eyes upon him. “Why would I not want to be around you?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t expected this question.  “Uh, well, I mean, you were basically forced to hang around me and serve me.  I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that.”

“Can I do that and still be around you?”

“Yeah! Yes! I just, uh, I don’t want you to think you owe me anything, or, shit, I don’t know, I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”

She dug her toes into the sand. “I don’t.”

“Okay, yeah… Good.”

“I feel… Happy, I think.”

“Yeah?” “Yes.”  She cocked her head to the side. “I am also aware that we have done many awful things.  I want to feel worse about that. For now, I think I am just happy to be alive.”

He shoved the toe of his shoe into the sand, watching it intently and trying not to smile.  Peko didn’t often speak of how she felt, mostly because his parents hadn’t wanted her to feel anything, so it was nice to not have to guess what she was feeling.

“Hey, I wanna say sorry.”

She turned surprised eyes onto him. “What for?”

“For not sticking up for you more, when we were kids.  For not forcing my parents to understand that I never wanted a tool.  Because I… I meant it, you know, what I said before…” He heaved a deep sigh.  “I just wanted you.”

Her gaze softened. “You do not have to apologize for that.  When we were the ultimate despair, we were equal, I suppose.” “We were also killing people.”

She leaned closer to him. “We were killing people before that too.”

He laughed.  “I guess you’ve got me there.  God, we were fuckin’ stupid, huh?”

Peko rested her chin on her knees, looking out over the ocean.  “Hm. I think… Perhaps, there is more to it then our intelligence level.”

He nudged her shoulder with his. “Do you… Do you forgive me though?”

She looked over at him again. “I would have given my life for you.  Not just because you were my master.” That took him by surprise.  “I never wanted that.” “Not wanting it doesn’t make it any less true.  I very much would’ve done it. I did, in fact.” “That’s because-”

“Not because I felt an obligation,” She said firmly.  “I did not.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just listening to the ocean and watching it.  Fuyuhiko wanted to say something else, anything. He’d been sitting and waiting for her to wake up so he could talk to her.  Tell her, you idiot, his mind screamed at him.  He looked over at her, watching her, curled up in a ball.  She was so perfect. He should tell her that, right? He sighed and looked away from her again.

“I feel like we’re both dancin’ around the real question,” He said.  “I care about you. A lot. I don’t wanna live without you.”

“I-”

“I want to be with you in whatever way that looks like.  I don’t want you as a tool, I want you as my partner in crime- or, no, let’s not do anymore crime.”  He knew he was rambling now, but he couldn’t stop. “I just want you to know that I don’t know when I fell in love with you, I just know that I did and to be honest I think I might actually die without you.  Doing life without you… In the simulation… Even if there weren’t any more murders, that was the hardest shit I’ve ever had to do.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say, so his mouth caught up with the nervousness of his brain and he kept talking.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to put on that pressure on you, that’s super uncool.  You don’t have to answer right now, or ever, really. I’m okay with us just spending time together in whatever way possible, we can just… Yeah.”

She laughed.  It was a real laugh, one that came from her gut, one that he hadn’t heard since they were kids.  After a few moments, it died down, but he felt the reverberations of it for hours.  

“That was… Very nice.”  She looked at him, smiling.  “I do feel… Strong feelings for you, as well.  I never knew how to place them, and I was always told they were wrong. I suppose I am in love with you.  I don’t know how to do that.”

“However you do it is the right way,” he said softly, ignoring how his heart was exploding and putting itself back together all at once.  He scooted a little closer to her. “Cause for the first time… We get to be us.”

She smiled.  “Us.” She seemed tired all of a sudden, or maybe just content.  She leaned against him, head on his shoulder. “It will take some… Getting used to.  I am very used to serving you.”

“I’ll be… Ahem,” he cleared his throat, “Serving you, every once in awhile. You deserve that.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

“I’ll just have to prove it to you.”  He tilted his cheek against her head. “I’m so glad you woke up.”

“Me too.”

The others flooded the beach then, pulling both Peko and Fuyuhiko to their feet and chattering loudly.  Ibuki was crying the loudest, hanging onto Peko, and Peko didn’t seem quite sure how to react or where to put her hands.  She was graceful with everyone who approached her, trying not to show too much emotion, it looked like, and finally, Mahiru stood before her.  

“I’m sorry,” Peko said, her voice strong.

“We all did what we thought we had to,” Mahiru replied, and gestured to everyone.  “There’s no blame on this beach.”

Peko’s eyes welled up with tears then, and she turned back to Fuyuhiko.  They became the center of a massive, very loud group hug, and Peko was crying harder than he’d ever heard her cry.  But that was okay. They were all going to be okay.

[thestarshiphope]

The Ultimate Mission

May I have everyone’s attention please?

It’s time we begin the preparations for our mission.

It’s about time.

So what’s the plan?

First, we need to collect the remaining members of the designated group.

The only ones here are me, Tsumugi-chan, and Ouma-kun, right?

Shuichi’s still at home, so that’s five out of sixteen. 

We going on our own Ultimate Hunt?

You...could say that, I suppose.

So we get the kids back together, then what? We just get back them all back to Project Gofer?

What if they don’t wanna come with us?

Then we do everything in our power to convince them to join us. We can’t let them all give up. 

I promised I wouldn’t, no matter how hard things might get.

M-me too. I’m with Kaede.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to help convince everyone too.

We can also be sure that the path there wouldn’t be wide open. There’ll be a lot of winding narrow routes we have to take.

I wouldn’t usually suggest this, but maybe we should split up? We can cover more ground and we could get the kids back faster.

Hmm. We’d have to exercise extreme caution and stick together in small groups, but it might be worth considering.

I can go with them whenever necessary.

Uhh...excuse me? I think you’re all forgetting something here.

Erika, what’re you-

Kaede, shut up. First, don’t talk about us like we’re not here and we don’t have a say in the matter. I hate that.

Second, I think you’re forgetting some of the biggest problems with this whole thing. My idiot sister and her friends decided to give up their talents after they left. I don’t think they’re gonna be much use as “hopes for humanity” in the first place, but as Commons they’re even more useless.

Third, even if we do somehow get them back to that institute place, there’s the little issue that Red Rain is still running around this shithole of a country looking for them. And getting a whole bunch of ultimates and former ultimates together is just gonna draw a big target on all of our backs!

Anyone got any plans for that? Anyone at all?

Soooo....who’re you exactly?

This is my twin sister, Erika.

Erika! Dear, sweet, mouthy Erika. You make a lot of good points, I gotta say. 

It’s true that Red Rain activity has only gotten worse over most of the Greater Tokyo Area, and that people are being slaughtered by the hundreds every day. Going through that with an ensemble of Ultimates would be a terrible mistake.

But I do have some ideas in mind for that.

What kind of plan?

Well, for example...

*Junko pulls out a knife*

If we killed you all, that would throw them off our trail, wouldn’t it?

What?!

K-k-kill us?!

B-boss, get behind me! I won’t let her hurt you!

Huh?! But...you-!

Upupupupupupu! Kidding! Kidding! Sorry, sorry, I just had to see the looks on your faces!

*Mukuro yanks one of her pigtails*

Oww!! Ow! 

Sorry about that. My sister has a sick sense of humor.

I was only half-joking though.

Red Rain just needs to think you’re all dead. Then we get you all to the Institute to get your talents back and to Project Gofer nice and easy.

While I don’t agree with the presentation, that may be our best bet.

That’s...a lot to get done.

And only a week to do it.

I looked into the future and I saw that we all make it there safe!

Really? Y-you’re the former Ultimate Clairvoyant, right? That’s great news!

His predictions are also off 70% of the time.

And th-that’s not great news!

Still better than wrong 100% of the time!

Can we focus, please?!

Anyway, you can leave the fake death thing to me. I’ve got some ideas in mind.

I’ll trust you with that.

And what role will Nevermind-san have in this?

Two things: she and her family will be providing us with support and, if necessary, transportation to other parts of Japan if necessary.

And once the rocket has left the planet, she can take us somewhere we may be safer.

Wait, you’re not all coming with us?

...

...

...

From what we understand, the ship only has just enough room for you all.

We ain’t gonna take that from you kids.

But...but you can’t just-! Grandma! Uncle Leon!

Sweetheart, it’s okay. Really.

I’ll be happy knowing that you’re alive and okay out there.

It’s alright. I’ve had a good run. I’m happy with how my life turned out.

And if I’m not gonna make it, might as well make my last days on Earth mean somethin’.

I’ve never been afraid of death.

If it’s to protect you all, I will gladly lay down my life.

You all have a bright future ahead of you, I’m certain of it.

I’m a Yakuza boss. I ain’t scared of shit.

With Fuyuhiko, my life has been full of nothing but purpose.

I became prime minister and restored my family’s honor. That was enough for me.

I did some good shit with my life and helped build things. The best damn houses anyone could want.

And I think...I’m about ready to see my brother again.

Hell’s gonna be under new management after I show up! Someone has to show ‘em how it’s done!

There’s a lot in my life I regret. Things I can’t change or undo.

But being here, seeing you all again, it’s been the best experience I’ve had in a long time.

I still remember when I came to Hope’s Peak Academy. Back then, I was just a regular guy. I feel like the only reason I got in was thanks to the lucky student lottery.

But being there, meeting you all, the time we’ve all shared together, all the memories and experiences we’ve had along the way, I wouldn’t trade those for anything. 

And most importantly, no matter what, even in the face of something like this, as long as we have hope, we never give up. That’s not just you kids, but it’s us too. We’re all the hope for mankind’s future. And I know that nothing- nothing- is gonna stop us!

*Both at the same time* Makoto, I love you so much.

Ha! Jynx!

That never gets old.

Kaede, Erika, no matter what happens, I love you both. I’ve always loved you both and I’ve always been proud of you. And I’ll be happy knowing that you’re okay up there.

We came together because we couldn’t let you all sacrifice everything when you still have so much ahead of you.

We’ve lived happy lives ourselves.

You’re really all laying down your lives for us? You hardly even know most of us.

Why would that matter?

I...

No, forget it. Never mind.

You all...

I promise, no matter what, I won’t give up anymore. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help the others. We’ll survive.

...

Kaede?

Y-yeah?

*(Kaede notices something in Erika’s eyes. Anger? Resentment? Guilt? It’s gone before she can really tell)*

This whole journey, I’ve got your back.

Just...count on me.

Thank you, Erika.

Erika....

Erik...a....

Eri...k...a...

Er...i...k...a...

E...r...i...k...a...

.........

........

.......

......

.....

....

...

..

.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Gasp*

*Back in the present, Kaede(?) wakes up in an empty room somewhere aboard the ship*

[thewildwilds]

is it too long ago for me to go for absolute zero?? from "'Do you like grilled ayu?'" to "'Do you miss her?'"

Not at all, gurl! LET’S DO THIS!!

First of all, a general note: the ayu fishing scene was one of the first things I’d written into my initial outline, and the one scene that probably changed the least during the editing process. I had a very clear image of where I wanted this scene to go, and the way I wanted it to serve the story.

Bennosuke cocks an interested brow. It’s the first he’s heard her mention the heir to the Kuzuryuu clan. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. He’d been the target of the attempted Matsuba clan kidnapping. It’s his understanding that it was the girl’s fault they’d been taken in the first place.

This is a really important detail that’s meant to extrapolate on a canonical aspect of Fuyuhiko and Peko that I always found to be an integral part of their characters: the way they both handle feelings of guilt.

mason jars begins with: “[Fuyuhiko is] seven and a half (closer to the seven than the half) when the strange men come and shove [him] and Peko into the back of a van. It’s [his] fault in the first place.” Parallel to that, absolute zero begins with Peko saying it was her idea to leave the house on the night of the kidnapping.

The reader knows it’s neither of their faults, of course, but neither of them would ever accept that. They’d never blame each other, which means they have to blame themselves. That’s just the way they handle things.

I really wanted to explore just how such strong feelings of guilt could manifest in the both of them. Hopefully it makes sense!

He shows her the decoy fish, the importance of keeping it alive enough to swim, though in a weakened state. She asks why they don’t just eat that one, but he tells her that using this one ayu will bring in many more. The decoy acts as bait, drawing in its territorial brethren and ensnaring them with the hooks lined along its belly when they attack. Even an ayu at the end of its life has its uses, perhaps more than it realizes. He demonstrates, dropping the decoy carefully into the water. It takes a bit of waiting but soon he feels a quivering tug on the end of his line. He reels it in carefully—mindful of dropping their catch—and scoops it up in his fishing net. He drops it into a wooden bucket filled with river water.

A lot going on here.

First: I don’t think I was subtle with the symbolism here. The decoy ayu is meant to parallel Peko’s role as a tool. The line, “Even an ayu at the end of its life has its uses, perhaps more than it realizes,” in particular is meant to allude to Peko’s decision to shield Fuyuhiko at the end of her execution.

Second: Bennosuke is a teacher, which is a different skill set altogether than just being a swordsman. That’s very important for his character, but prior to this scene, every instance of him trying to teach Peko something ends unsatisfactorily. I was well aware that I had given the reader no reason to believe Bennosuke is a good teacher. But here we see him not only teaching Peko something, but also giving her some measure of success when she tries it on her own.

Third: I watched a two-hour documentary on ayu fishing for like two minutes worth of fic. You tell me if it was worth it.

“We keep them alive until we are ready to begin cooking. They taste best when fresh. Out here, the river is cleaner, so they will taste even better. Ayu are small, so we must skewer them whole: head, tail, and all.”

A small thing, but I always want the reader to be aware that these characters are POC. That’s actually very important to me. Since I am quite familiar with Asian cuisine, I most often do this by introducing food in a lot of my fics. I like to think doing this makes it so it’s not such an in-your-face type of thing, but still gets the point across.

At that she makes a face, and it’s the first expression he’s seen from her that he would describe as comical. He can’t help himself; he bursts out laughing.

“You act just like my daughter did,” he laughs.

And there’s THE BOMB. Kinda? It’s a tricky thing, getting the reader to like an original character as much as you do. I’m quite a big proponent of “kill your darlings” so I tried to have a light hand with it: just enough to show that Bennosuke is, in fact, a character with his own motivations, but without overpowering the whole point of the story.

She blinks. He sees the change in her expression as he reintroduces the decoy to the water, the curious way she looks at him like she’s seeing a man who was once a father and not just a weathered old swordsman.

Peko was just recently told about her origins (a lie), so she spends a good amount of time pondering the meaning of family.

I’m quite adamant about giving Peko an adult figure she can look up to. When it comes to Bennosuke and Peko, I like to make the “father-daughter” parallels when I can, but that’s definitely too strong of a label for them. Still, Bennosuke’s been given a role: be a good teacher for Peko, make her believe their philosophy–and that requires him to dig under the surface, find what makes her tick, and somehow he has to do all this without feeling a thing for her. It’s a difficult spot to be put in, and he grapples with it for the entirety of the fic.

The child traces her fingers through the dirt where she’s squatted near the bank. “Do you miss her?” she asks.

I’ll be the first to tell you to get rid of those useless epithets in your stories, but I was very deliberate with them when it came to Bennosuke’s narration. Bennosuke always sees Peko as “child” or “the Pekoyama child.” Again, it’s a nod to his growing attachment to her as a “father-figure,” but most importantly, it’s meant to foreshadow that Bennosuke does know about Peko’s true origins. Very often, he’s not necessarily seeing Peko as Peko, but rather as the infant that was stolen away from her own family.

I realize I may have gone a bit overboard with it, though.

[sunbrights]

fic: by the claw of dragon (5/7)

fandom: danganronpa characters/pairings: natsumi kuzuryuu, fuyuhiko kuzuryuu, peko pekoyama + 77th class ensemble, et al. kuzupeko. character tags will be updated on AO3 with plot-relevant characters as chapters are posted. rating: m summary: The Kuzuryuu Clan stands on the precipice of the greatest era of its history. Kuzuryuu Natsumi promises to be the strongest leader the clan has ever seen, the Overlord of the South born again. That Hopes’s Peak Academy would select her for it’s 77th class was assumed, not hoped for.

To the younger Kuzuryuu son, everything is as it’s meant to be.

Sonia knows.

Natsumi doesn’t know how, but it doesn’t matter. Probably she found out the same way Natsumi did: with good information and better sway with people equipped to act on it. Just because Natsumi’s exam wasn’t publicized doesn’t mean it was private, and there’s a small, unassuming girl in the now-senior class whose talent is the Ultimate Hacker. If it didn’t happen now, it would have eventually.

Knowing that doesn’t stop the restless churn of her stomach when she turns the corner and finds Sonia waiting for her out in the hall before morning homeroom, though. Her back is straight and her hands are folded in front of her; Natsumi recognizes the princess in her, all ice and etiquette, the same face she’d been so quick to shed before.

“Kuzuryuu-san.” Sonia doesn’t bow to greet her, not even the polite, shallow one she greets everyone with. “If you have time after class, I would like it if we could speak in private.”

There are eyes on the side of her face; Saionji openly snickers behind her hand when she and Koizumi brush past them into the classroom. Peko steps up behind her left shoulder, a looming presence made of as much cold steel as Sonia’s, but Sonia’s gaze refuses to break.

“Sure,” Natsumi says. “Whatever.” She lets her shoulder brush Sonia’s when she strolls past her into the classroom. “Not for too long, though, okay? I’m a busy woman, you know.”

“There is no need to worry,” Sonia says from behind her. “I do not anticipate to take up too much of your time.”

It’s a new room, but everyone has gravitated toward the same old configuration; the two seats up at the front where she and Sonia used to sit together are empty, just the same.

She takes her same seat, front and center. Peko slides into the desk behind her. It leaves two remaining empty desks in the classroom: Sonia’s normal one up at the front, and a second in the back next to Mitarai.

If Sonia hesitates, or even takes a second to consider her options, Natsumi doesn’t see it. She gathers her books against her chest and walks straight past her old desk to the back of the room. “Good morning, Mitarai-san,” Natsumi hears her say, with every bit of her usual morning chipperness. “Is this seat taken?”

The classroom is quiet. Saionji cranes her head from the seat on Natsumi’s other side to try and catch her eye. Mitarai stutters. “Uh, no. No, you can sit if you want.”

“Excellent!”

Natsumi keeps her eyes forward. She doesn’t realize she isn’t blinking until her eyes start to burn.

When class is over, no one lingers. Usually a handful of them will stay and blabber on until they’re nearly late for their next period, but today even Koizumi and her entourage slip out right at the bell. Yukizome makes an excuse about needing to drop by the office. Peko is the final one to leave, after Natsumi lifts one hand over her shoulder and waves her off.

Natsumi thinks about the empty gymnasium, yawning and oppressive.

Sonia waits until the door is all the way shut before she gets up. She moves back up to her old desk, and sits like she’s preparing for another class, hands folded on the desktop. She won’t look at Natsumi. She keeps her eyes trained on the smeared-but-empty blackboard.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Kuzuryuu-san,” she says. “My hope is that this can be productive for us both.”

Natsumi yawns. She has to force it. “Whatever,” she says, making sure to start the word before her yawn is all the way finished. “Just say what you came here to say. But can you at least be creative with your threats? All the standard ones get old fast, you know?”

Sonia’s mouth compresses into a thin line. “It is not that. I have no desire for retaliation against you or your clan. I have already resolved not to inform the rest of the Novoselic royal family of this incident.”

Natsumi catches herself playing with her pencil. She curls her fingers into a fist to get herself to stop; her father’s always said that her fidgeting was a tell. She weighs her words. “If you’re expecting me to say thank you for that,” she decides on, “you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I would never expect that from you, Kuzuryuu-san.” Natsumi didn’t know Sonia had the capacity to be sardonic. “I only wish to understand. It took a significant amount of resources for you to acquire such… information in the first place, yes?”

“So?”

“So, I can only imagine you spent those resources in order to grant an advantage to yourself in our negotiations. There was an opportunity for you to do so.” Sonia looks over at her for the first time since that morning in the hall, but it’s only a flicker. It can’t have been intentional. “Why did you not? That is my only question.”

Natsumi manages to laugh. “That’s it?”

“Yes. That is it. It is a straightforward question to answer, is it not?”

Another flicker. It’s a weak point. Natsumi seizes it with both hands.

“You’re not gonna chew me out?” she asks. “Lecture me about my life choices? Tell me about how the bonds of friendship between women are sacred?” Sonia’s hands curl into fists on the desk. Natsumi leans far enough across the gap between their desks until she has to meet her eye dead-on. “Aren’t you upset?”

“Yes of course I am upset!” Sonia says, nearly shouts, and her voice cracks under her sudden surge of volume. “I am angry, and- and humiliated, and I cannot believe that you would still act like this after all that has happened!” Her eyes are shining. She blinks rapidly and sets her jaw. “But I also know in my heart that we are friends. No matter how many times I imagine it, I cannot think of you as having malicious intent the entire time. So please—”

Her tears are threatening to spill over. She composes herself with a deep, shuddering breath, and presses the edges of her fingers beneath her eyes. “Please,” she says again. Her voice is softer and steadier. “I wish to know why.”

Sonia will never fully trust her again. That’s a fact. Even if Natsumi spills the whole story right now, falls to her knees and begs forgiveness, all it will get her is a wary truce and a humiliating rumor about how the Kuzuryuu heir does her business.

She’s done. There’s no room for her to play around anymore.

She says, “We found something better.”

Sonia’s eyes are wide. “What?”

Natsumi tilts her head. “What, did you seriously believe you were our only option?” She counts to five in her head while Sonia blinks back at her, then lets a smile spread across her face. “Sheesh, you really think highly of that backwater country of yours, huh? Okay, let me spell it out for you.” She leans forward, and draws out each syllable, laboriously slow. “We. Didn’t. Need. You.”

“But—”

“But what? I needed something for my practical exam, I had your tape on hand—” She mimics an explosion with her hands. “Done. You should be grateful I didn’t save it for later.”

“My exam time,” Sonia tries again. “It changed last minute, and I—”

“Komaeda-kun’s supposed to be lucky, isn’t he?” Natsumi shrugs. “Maybe you just got caught up in his creepy, lucky wake.”

Sonia’s mask has shattered; there are tears on her eyelashes and grooves in her forehead. Her voice is small. “Why are you being like this?”

“If you thought I was at this school for anything other than business, that’s your fault, not mine,” Natsumi says. “Can I go now?”

The silence settles, painful.

“I see,” Sonia says finally. She sniffles into her sleeve. “I believe I understand now. If this is the path you have chosen, Kuzuryuu-san, then I believe it is best for the both of us if our friendship ends here.” Her chair clatters when she stands up, and even she can’t hide the way her voice wobbles when she says, “Excuse me.”

Natsumi sits in the classroom long after it’s empty. It’s not until the bell for the start of the next period rings that she pulls herself out of the desk and out of the room.

Peko is waiting for her in the hall.

*

me 22:48 sonia knows what i did, in case you care

me 22:48 she says she won’t spill to her parents but like there’s anything actually stopping her

me 23:03 don’t ignore me this is actually important

fuyu-chan 23:05 what the fuck do you want me to do about it?

me 23:05 i don’t know, figure something out with me?

me 23:05 you know how many tanks they have, right?

fuyu-chan 23:08 she’s your friend, you deal with it

fuyu-chan 23:08 you didn’t drag me out here to help you with your social life

fuyu-chan 23:09 unless you’ve got something for the clan, don’t fucking talk to me

me 23:09 how is this not for the clan?

me 23:09 do you WANT a whole country on our asses?

me 00:02 fine

*

Peko’s phone starts to ping again after only a day or two. Natsumi thinks it must be happening more often than it used to, because she hears it all the time: during class, during lunch, in the hallway, at their lockers, in the dojo.

(“Would you prefer I stopped responding?” Peko asks once, after the buzz of her phone on the desk interrupts Natsumi’s train of thought one too many times.

“No,” she answers. Her pencil tears the edge of her physics homework, and she has to pull out another sheet. “Not like I care.”

Peko stops anyway.)

Natsumi, for her part, gets tired of looking at an endless string of her own messages in the text conversation, so she stops. He’ll come around when he’s in a better mood; he always does. She plans on giving him the same cold shoulder he’s giving her until then.

It’s Thursday. Koizumi has brought lunch with her again for her bi-weekly trek to the west building. It’s wrapped in the same fabric as the last time Natsumi paid attention to it, with the rabbit design; she can see faint stains around the bottom edges.

Saionji hangs off the edge of Koizumi’s desk, whining about how, “If I have to spend another lunch looking at Pig Barf’s stupid face I’m totally gonna have a mental breakdown!” Koizumi pats the back of her head, but she doesn’t budge on the issue.

Natsumi’s never seen Satou come to the east building; it’s always been the other way around. Sometimes Koizumi brings the lunch, sometimes she doesn’t, but she’s always the one making the walk, and she’s almost always late for class the period after. Natsumi assumed she’d get tired of it after the first few weeks, but it’s going on a year now and they haven’t missed a day.

She stares at the cutesy rabbits on the side of Koizumi’s lunchbox, and thinks she knows how to get her brother in a better mood faster. She tilts her head back. “Hey, Peko-chan.”

“Yes.”

“Go have lunch with my brother today.”

Peko doesn’t answer right away. When Natsumi twists around in her seat to look at her, she’s frowning, her brow pinched.

Natsumi drapes both arms over the back of her chair, and sets her cheek against her elbow. “What? You don’t want to?”

“I—” It isn’t often Peko gets tongue-tied. She’s so pale that it makes it easier to see where the blush stands out against her cheeks. “No, it does sound… enjoyable, but…” It takes her several seconds too long to be believable, but once she finds her excuse, she latches onto it. “It’s still the early days of the school year. Shouldn’t I be seen eating with you?”

“Oh, please. I’ll be fine for one day. These chumps should know better than to mess with me by now. And if they don’t, I can reteach them myself.” Souda glares at her from the back of the room. Natsumi wiggles her fingers at him, smile big. “You should do it! What’s stopping you, huh?”

Peko hesitates. Her eyes drop down to her desk. “I don’t think I’m someone Fuyuhiko-sama wants to see right now,” she admits, fingers curled into the desktop.

“Yeah, that’s literally never been true.” Peko still looks uncertain. Natsumi feels a thin bubble of frustration gather in her gut. “At least he’s talking to you.”

“Young mistress, I—”

The bubble bursts. “Are you saying you won’t do it?” she interrupts, sitting up.

Peko’s turn around is instantaneous. Her chin drops to her chest, her hands in her lap. “No. Of course not. If that’s what you wish, young mistress, I’ll go after class. Should I announce myself to Fuyuhiko-sama before I arrive?”

Natsumi turns back around in her seat. She eyes her phone, laying face-up on her desk. (The screen is still jagged and broken; her father had refused to have it replaced before she left for school, citing her string of other broken phones.) Last she counted, all eight of the most recent messages in her text conversation with her brother had been from her.

“No,” she decides. “It can be a surprise. And don’t tell him it was my idea, okay?”

“Yes, young mistress."

*

fuyu-chan 12:12 seriously?

me 12:16 what?

fuyu-chan 12:16 you know exactly what

fuyu-chan 12:16 this is low even for you

me 12:16 excuse me for thinking you’d want a friendly face with you at lunch

fuyu-chan 12:18 don’t give me that bullshit. what the fuck is wrong with you?

fuyu-chan 12:18 you can’t just throw her at every single problem you have

fuyu-chan 12:19 did you seriously think this was going to make me LESS pissed at you?

fuyu-chan 12:19 after all the other shit you’ve pulled?

*

“Wuh-oh. I know that face. Which is it, deadbeat or baby daddy?”

She’s in the dining hall, eating lunch by herself at her and Peko’s usual table. When she looks up from her phone, ready to fling it at whoever felt the need to butt in, there’s a freshman girl sitting on her table at the far end, her feet on the bench, slurping on the straw of a pale green shake.

She’s completely ditched the school uniform for her own outfit, all bright colors and provocative lines. There’s a cute bear pin in her hair. She smiles when Natsumi glares up at her. “Who the hell are you?”

Her name is Enoshima Junko, from the 78th class. Natsumi knows all of them; she looked them up one-by-one when their names started cropping up on the message boards. Enoshima had been the sole exception: her fashion blog is massive and critically-acclaimed, and Natsumi has been a follower since she was in middle school.

But she has a reputation to maintain, and that doesn’t include letting any freshman who feels like it sidle up to her lunch table.

Enoshima slides down to sit across from her on the bench. She wraps both hands around her shake; it must be kale, Natsumi remembers her posting about it before school started. “You don’t know me? Well, that’s okay. Because I know you, Natsumi-senpai.” She holds her straw between her teeth when she smiles. “And there’s plenty of time left for us to get acquainted.”

“There’s forty minutes left in lunch,” Natsumi tells her. “You’ve got three.”

Enoshima pretends to shake her sleeve back to check her wrist. She isn’t wearing a watch. In May she’d posted about her favorite types of accessories, and watches hadn’t even made the list. “Hmmm. I bet I can make that work. I mean, it’s not like it’s much of a story, right?” She laughs, right in Natsumi’s face. She doesn’t even bother to try to hold it in. “You’re the junior who totally screwed the pooch on her practical exam!”

Natsumi grinds both fists down into the table. She doesn’t have to take this, especially not from some air-headed freshman. She makes to stand, but Enoshima waves her down, one-handed. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t worry about it! Those judges just didn’t get you.” She leans forward on both elbows, and her voice dips into a lower register. “But I get you.”

Natsumi sneers. She lowers herself back down to sitting. “What, some little freshman with bows on her jacket?” she says. “I don’t think so.”

Enoshima doesn’t flinch. She just keeps on talking, with that same, gravelly quality to her voice. “Sure,” she says. “I mean, it wasn’t just about the recording, right? It was about where you got it from, too. How the school had a perv on their payroll, waltzing around their precious Ultimates, and how you plucked it out from under their noses. How you could’ve taken down an entire country, because of their mistake. You could’ve just as easily used it on them as you could have on Sonia-senpai, right? Who in their right mind would want people like that watching out for the purest distillation of talent in the world? That’s what you thought was gonna guarantee you that sweet, sweet perfect score.”

Natsumi hasn’t told anyone that. Not Peko, not Fuyuhiko, no one.

“It didn’t go the way you wanted,” Enoshima goes on. Her eyes are bright. “You made one big mistake, senpai.”

Natsumi’s phone buzzes on the table. She claps her hand over top of it. The broken pieces of the screen jab into the edge of her palm.

Enoshima doesn’t look away from her face. She’s grinning when she says, “You gonna get that? It could be fate, sending you the eggplant emoji you’ve been dreaming of.”

“It’s my brother.” Natsumi doesn’t need to look.

“Ooh, even better. Talk about a scandal, am I right?”

“What do you mean?” Natsumi interrupts. “What mistake?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Enoshima’s shake is almost empty. It gurgles loudly when she sucks on the straw. “You let them off too easy! You’re still assuming they respect your talent more than they want to keep you under their thumb.” She shrugs. “You threatened them, so they had to teach you a lesson.”

Natsumi means to make her lip curl, to make her uncertainty look like disdain, but it only feels like a grimace. “If they know anything about me, they know that’s a stupid move,” she says. “My family doesn’t stand for that.”

“And what do you think they’ll say if you do anything about it?” Enoshima sits up straight, and adjusts imaginary glasses on her face. Her impression of Fat Nose is unnervingly spot-on. “Hmhm, yes. It’s always disappointing to let a talented student go, but Kuzuryuu-kun was clearly not equipped to handle the rigors of our institution. This is nothing more than thinly-veiled retaliation for our panel’s assessment of her abilities. A shame that such a promising young woman would have such drastic faults of character.” She sheds the persona like a jacket flung into a corner, shoulders dropping and head lolling back dramatically. “Come on. Who d’you think the press is gonna side with on that one? Huh?”

She waits, her eyes big and expectant. She cups one hand around her ear. Natsumi glowers at her.

“Think about it. The word I’ve heard around town is that the Kuzuryuu siblings are a force to be reckoned with, you know? Hardly anybody drops your name without Fuyuhiko-kun’s right behind it.” Enoshima points the chewed straw of her shake at Natsumi’s phone. “But the scouting board, in all their cherry-picking wisdom, thinks he’s only good for the trash heap? Does that make sense to you?”

Natsumi lifts her hand. The new messages blink up at her from her phone’s lock screen.

fuyu-chan 12:22 this is between YOU and ME

fuyu-chan 12:22 or are you too much of a fucking coward to come talk to me yourself?

“Whomp,” Enoshima chirps. “Time’s up! Food for thought, Natsumi-senpai.” She slaps both hands on the table when she gets up. “And by the way,” she adds, “thanks for following! Meeting a longtime reader always touches me deep down in my special place.” She holds her hands in front of her chest, fingers curled together in a heart. “Talk to you later, bitch.”

*

Natsumi makes the walk to the west building before the end of the lunch period. There’s time enough left, and she doesn’t feel like sitting alone at that table with nothing on her tray. Her brother wants her to come talk to him, she’ll do it.

It would be easy for someone to mistake the west building for a nice one, if they’d never been inside the east building. The tuition money doesn’t go to waste, even if most of it must funnel into the main course: the interior decoration is nice, just not as classy as the main course; there are amenities, just not as many as the main course; the furniture and equipment look like they were handed down when they got too much wear in the main course.

The west building doesn’t have a dedicated dining hall the way the east building does; Natsumi can see some students eating at their desks through classroom windows, and others loitering in groups around the halls. That’s where she finds them: Peko and her brother and a kid she’s never seen before, clustered together outside the open door of one of the classrooms. Fuyuhiko leans against the wall with his arms crossed while the kid talks with both hands.

The reserve course uniform doesn’t suit him. The jacket is too boxy, and sits awkwardly on his shoulders even after it’s been tailored to fit him better. It makes him look smaller than he is, his torso drowning in dark fabric. He hates it, she can tell; he keeps fidgeting with it, plucking at the elbows and tugging on the hem.

Peko looks her way first. She steps toward her, away from Fuyuhiko’s shoulder, and that’s what tilts his head in her direction, too. Natsumi’s already braced for the worst of his anger or disgust or whatever else.

Their eyes meet, and he looks away, like he can’t even stand the sight of her.

The kid, on the other hand, is staring at her. He watches her walk up with big, nervous eyes, and he keeps looking at her even when her brother is determined to glare a hole in the door on the opposite side of the hall.

“Well?” she demands.

The kid flinches. Fuyuhiko decides to glare at the ceiling.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Natsumi?”

“Are you joking?” When he doesn’t answer, she slaps her hand on the wall next to his head. That gets him to look at her, at least. “You said I should come, dumbass!”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean right this fucking second!” Some of the other students are starting to glance their way. The kid looks uncomfortable, like he wants to bolt but isn’t sure if he can. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want to know when this stupid tantrum of yours is gonna be done.”

“Tantrum?” He stands up straight, lunges into her space. “Are you fucking serious right now? I’m—”

Students are starting to trickle out of homeroom and disperse to their afternoon classes. Natsumi spots the bright bob of Koizumi’s hair out of the corner of her eye first, but it’s Satou who stops in the doorway, hand on the frame.

Her eyes are narrow and suspicious. “I thought that was you,” she says. “Can’t you go anywhere without causing trouble, Natsumi?”

“Look who it is,” Natsumi jeers, loud enough that the students past Satou’s shoulder lift their heads. “Hey, Satou-san, how about you keep your nose in the dirt where it belongs? And out of my business?”

Koizumi elbows her way around Satou’s shoulder. “Hey! You can’t just talk to people like that. What did you even come down here for, huh?”

“Last I checked you weren’t part of this conversation either, Koizumi-san!” Natsumi snaps. “So get lost before I do it for you.”

“Fuck this,” Fuyuhiko interrupts. “I'm leaving. Some of us actually have class to go to.” His shoulder collides with hers when he shoves himself off the wall. “Later, Hinata. Bye, Peko.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually!” Natsumi shouts after him, but he’s already been swallowed by the surge of students from the other classrooms. Satou bumps into her when she passes, too, Koizumi’s hand at her elbow.

The kid is the only one left behind. He's got a deer-in-headlights look to him. “Um,” he says. “You're Kuzuryuu’s sister, right?”

Natsumi glares at him.

“Just because, you look kind of— I mean, you can tell you're related.”

She looks at Peko. “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Hinata Hajime,” Peko replies. “Fuyuhiko-sama brought him to lunch.”

“Uh. Yeah,” the kid says. He looks at Peko sideways. “I just met Pekoyama today. Your brother and I are… Friends? I guess?”

“You guess?”

“I mean.” Hinata gestures vaguely in Fuyuhiko’s wake. “We talk sometimes. I don’t know if he’d call us friends, though.”

Natsumi lifts her chin. “If you’re not sure, then he wouldn’t,” she tells him. “Remember that. Come on, Peko-chan.

“Wait,” Hinata says. “Kuzuryuu-san. I know it’s not any of my business, but—”

She rounds on him, and relishes the way he recoils, eyes big. “You’re right. It’s not any of your business. You think I give a crap what some talentless hack thinks of me?”

Hinata’s eyes narrow. It might be the first sign of a spine she’s seen from him since she showed up. “Your brother goes here,” he says. “Is he a talentless hack to you, too?”

Whatever. Slim spines crack easier.

She grabs him by the knot of his tie, and digs her nails in so that he doesn’t slip out of her grip when he jerks his head back. He swallows his yelp, and his face goes ashen; she can feel the way his pulse jumps against her knuckles. “It’s Hinata-kun, right?” He stares at her, and she drags him down to her level. “Right?” He nods. She smiles. “All right. Listen up, Hinata-kun. My brother is only stuck in this dump because Hope’s Peak is too afraid of what we’d do if they scouted the both of us. He doesn’t belong in here with trash like you, understand? And once I’m done, he won’t be. So you can be friends with him you guess as long as you want, but don’t think for one second that puts you on the same level as us.”

The bell rings for the next period. Natsumi shoves him when she lets him go, and he stumbles, hands at his collar.

“Come on, Peko-chan,” she says again, turning on her heel. “It’s time for class.”

*

me 07:53 we have to talk about this

me 08:12 i’m serious

me 08:13 do you want being here to be a complete waste of time?

me 08:13 because that’s what you’re doing right now

me 10:44 can you just talk to me like a grownup?

me 10:44 or are you just totally physically incapable?

me 13:28 i don’t know what else you want from me

me 13:28 i’m trying, okay

me 13:30 does sitting there ignoring all my messages make you feel better?

me 14:03 hey

me 14:03 hey

me 14:03 hey

me 14:22 i can’t fucking believe you sometimes

me 14:22 you’re such a fucking baby

me 15:42 WHAT

me 15:42 DO

me 15:42 YOU

me 15:42 WANT

me 15:42 FROM

me 15:42 ME

me 15:42 ???????????

me 16:35 are you going to do this all year?

me 18:19 will you please just answer me one time

me 01:57 you know what? fuck you

me 02:02 i don’t need your help anyway

*

She sends Peko back to the west building a week later, this time with a message and clear instructions to make her brother listen to every word. Natsumi spends the lunch period alone in their new homeroom, her half of Peko’s packed lunch spread out in front of her, and waits for her phone to go off.

She doesn’t have to wait long. She could probably time Peko’s trip across the courtyards just using the timestamp on her brother’s responses.

fuyu-chan 12:07 are you fucking serious?

fuyu-chan 12:07 I told you to STOP

me 12:07 what else was i supposed to do??

me 12:07 she’s the only one you bother talking to anymore

me 12:07 should i handwrite a letter and send it through your new bff hinata-kun?

fuyu-chan 12:10 for fuck’s sake

fuyu-chan 12:10 I can’t believe you’re still this fucking selfish

me 12:10 I’M the selfish one? ME??

me 12:10 you’re not even TRYING to listen

fuyu-chan 12:10 listen to what? some sob story about how this isn’t really your fault?

fuyu-chan 12:10 I’m not about to let you pull this manipulative bullshit on me

fuyu-chan 12:11 I have nothing to fucking say to you. ever

fuyu-chan 12:11 so FUCK OFF

The message blurs. It takes her a second to realize that it’s her eyes and not her phone, hot tears catching on her eyelashes. She drops the phone on the desk with a clatter and presses both hands over her face.

On the other side of the room, the open door of the classroom clicks quietly shut.

Fuck, she lost track of the days, fuck. It’s Thursday. “Get lost, Koizumi-san!” she says, too loud. “Nobody said you could come in here!” She turns her face toward the wall and scrubs her sleeve across her eyes until they burn.

Koizumi doesn’t leave. Her shoes are quiet on the classroom’s linoleum floor, but Natsumi can still hear her milling around behind her. Eventually she sits on the edge of one of the desks behind Natsumi’s shoulder and asks, “Why are you crying?”

“I said, get lost.”

Koizumi draws air between her teeth, a disdainful, judgmental sound that’s been grating on Natsumi’s nerves since they were thirteen.

“I heard about your fight with Sonia-chan,” Koizumi says. She stands up, and sets something on the desk she was sitting on. It’s her lunchbox, when Natsumi glances at it; the fabric it’s wrapped in is blue today, with a smiling cloud design on it. “She won’t tell any of us what it was about.” She waits. Natsumi doesn’t say anything. “Is Peko-chan not going to eat with you today, either?”

Natsumi presses the heels of both hands into her eyes until she sees spots. She means to sigh, annoyed, but it just comes out as a long exhale. “What do you care?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Koizumi says. She unties the top of her lunch. “I don’t feel bad for you. Whatever happened, I’d bet money that you brought it on yourself.” She takes out a single homemade meat bun and sets it on a napkin next to Natsumi’s knee. “But you have to have lunch. So stop being stubborn and just eat something.”

Natsumi ignores it.

“Come on,” Koizumi says again, once the silence gets to her. Her voice is softer. “This isn’t healthy. Yukizome-sensei is worried about you, you know?” She picks the meatbun back up and holds it under Natsumi’s nose. “You’ll feel better after you eat something, Natsumi-chan.”

Before she’s even recognized what she’s doing, Natsumi has Koizumi by the wrist. The meat bun tumbles out of her hand and onto the floor with a wet, thick sound. “You want to talk about what’s gonna make me feel better, Koizumi-san?”

Koizumi draws in a quick, frightened breath. She tries to pull her hand away, but Natsumi twists her wrist to pinch her skin and drag her forward, until they’re at eye level. “‘Cause I’ll tell you,” she says. “It’s not your charity. It’s not your pity. You want to congratulate yourself for alllll your good deeds, fine, but don’t foist them off on me like I’m one of your stupid pet projects. I look out for me, understand? I don’t need shit from you.”

Natsumi lets her go. Koizumi falls away from her until she runs into one of the desks behind her; the feet screech when it drags against the floor. She has her arm cradled against her stomach, the skin around her wrist angry and red.

Koizumi stays like that, braced against the jostled desk, breathing hard. “I only wanted to be your friend,” she says eventually, her voice trembling. “Back then. You’re the one who made it like this.”

She doesn’t take the time to retie the knot on her lunch before she stumbles out the door.

*

enoshima junko 12:16 what’s up bitch!!

enoshima junko 12:16 skip physics and come shopping with me

enoshima junko 12:16 there’s a pair of stiletto boots with your name ALL over them

*

peko 13:07 Will you not be attending class this afternoon?

fuyu-chan 13:29 where the hell are you?

fuyu-chan 13:30 peko says she hasn’t seen you since lunch

fuyu-chan 13:36 seriously natsumi don’t fucking start with this

*

Enoshima takes her to a tiny boutique wedged above a bakery. There’s no sign, inside or outside, and the walls of the stairwell are white and sparse. “Hisakawa and me go waaaaay back,” she explains, hips swaying on the staircase. “Trust me, you’re gonna love everything about her.”

But once they get inside, there’s only a bored-looking receptionist with a headset behind the front desk; he shoves a small clipboard toward them without looking up. Enoshima reaches past it to set her hand against his forearm, red nails bright against his dress shirt. “I should already be on the list.”

The receptionist jerks in his seat. He doesn’t recover well, expression tight when he turns to look at them. “Enoshima-san,” he says. “Welcome back. Hisakawa-san was expecting you.” His eyes slide to Natsumi. “Who’s your friend?”

“Kuzuryuu,” Natsumi answers.

The receptionist swallows. He stands from his desk, limbs stiff. “Of course. We were expecting you as well, Kuzuryuu-san. Come with me.”

“Don’t worry about Maeda,” Enoshima chirps, while he leads them back through the various show rooms. She doesn’t lower her voice. “He’s got a stick up his butt a mile long, but he’s all right.”

“Expecting me, huh?” Natsumi says, craning her neck to get a better look at one of the racks against the wall.

Enoshima grins at her. “Sure! I told them you were coming. What’re friends for, right, senpai?”

Maeda leads them all the way to a small room at the back of the store, then hovers just outside the door. The sofas are wider than the ones out front, with fatter cushions, and there’s a semicircle of matcha cookies laid out on a plate next to a pot of still-steaming tea. The room is flanked on both sides by massive racks of clothes, all at the high knife-edge of fashion, and all very, very expensive.

Enoshima dives toward one of the racks and throws a pair of tall black boots back at her. They have gold buckles and a skinny heel, and they’re exactly in Natsumi’s size. “Put those on!” she barks. She drapes herself back across one of the sofas and plucks one of the cookies from the plate. “Maeda back there is gonna be begging for you to step on him by the time we’re through.”

“If you could keep your voices down,” Maeda says behind them.

Natsumi sits on the opposite sofa, and drops her bag on the floor beside her. “So,” she says. “Cut the crap. Why’d you bring me here?” She bends down to toe the boots on. They’re well-made, and heavy in her hands. “It wasn’t just to show me these.”

“Well, it was at least, like, thirty percent to show you those. I mean, look at them, right?” Enoshima pillows her arms behind her head. “The rest, I just figured girls like you and me should stick together, you know?”

Natsumi scoffs. “‘You and me’?” Her ankles wobble when she stands up; the heels are taller than she’s used to. “That’s a good one. You and me nothing.”

She meets Enoshima’s eye through the big full-body mirror, but she only smiles back. “Did you know Hisakawa has six other little boutiques like this in the city?” Enoshima asks. She snaps another cookie between her teeth. “And that’s just here. A designer like that has a lot of connections. And she has to do a lot to make ends meet.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m just the go-between! The introduction. I’ve got an old friend in need of a loan and a new one who might be able to help her out.” Enoshima’s eyes rake up and down her body, evaluative. “We need to get you into something else,” she decides. “Those boots in that outfit make you look like the centerfold of a bad porno mag.”

She’s right. The boots clash oddly with her school uniform; they make her look like a little kid with questionable ideas of what an adult dresses like. Natsumi steps to the rack and snaps through choices. “Well, you can keep it to yourself,” she says. “My family doesn’t need any help selling loans.”

“Maybe not,” Enoshima says. “But you need momentum, am I right? Some resources? Friends in high places?” When Natsumi looks back over her shoulder at her, she laughs. “What do you think the fashion industry is, Natsumi-senpai?”

Natsumi pulls a dress from somewhere in the middle of the rack: black, with a high neckline and an image of a dragon winding up the left side, scales in shining gold leaf. “Don’t know,” she answers. “Don’t care.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Enoshima says, her smile sharp-edged. “I’ll just talk to myself! I love this stuff, you know. In case you hadn’t heard.”

Natsumi goes into the dressing room, and Enoshima does talk to herself. She tells herself all about Hisakawa: her history, her money troubles, her track record in the underbelly of Japan’s fashion world. By the time Natsumi has the dress over her head, she has to admit: it doesn’t sound like a bad deal.

When she comes back out, Enoshima whistles and drags her in front of the full-body mirror by the elbow. Her fingers are cold when she zips the dress the rest of the way up. “I like it,” she says. “Now this is the centerfold of a good porno mag, am I right?”

Natsumi skims her hands down her hips to smooth the fabric against her skin. It’s a better look with the heels than her school uniform. It’s a better look all around. She doesn’t feel like a little girl playing dress up, the way she always did wearing the elaborate kimonos her mother bought for her. She feels like herself, but better. Powerful. Intimidating.

Enoshima lingers behind her. She smooths her hands around Natsumi’s ribcage and plucks at pleats to give them more volume. “You know what I think, senpai?” she asks, her chin on Natsumi’s shoulder. She smiles at the mirror. “I think you’re gonna revolutionize the whole genre. Those old onna-oyabun tropes are so last century. You’re gonna give it some life. Some edge.” She draws Natsumi’s hair between her fingers and twists it into a high bun, tight enough to pinch her scalp. She pierces it with a pin at just the right angle to keep it secure without making it uncomfortable. “A new sense of scary-but-sexy style.”

Natsumi tilts her chin at herself in the mirror the way her father always does at the junior members when he dismisses them.

“Ooh, chilly.” Enoshima says, cheerful. “Bingo! Looks like we have a winner!”

Natsumi feels around the hem of the dress for the price tag, but Enoshima’s fingers clasp over hers before she can read it. The tips of her nails are sharp against the back of her hand. “Hey, hey, hey,” she says. “Don’t worry about it.” She twists her wrist to rip the tag off. “Just take it! Who else is gonna be able to pull of the metallic golden dragon look anyway, huh?“

Natsumi looks back over her shoulder, but Maeda hasn’t moved. He has two fingers against the earpiece of his headset, and he’s talking rapidly to someone about the cost of purple silk. “What,” she says, already rolling her eyes, “you’re going to pay for it?”

Her hands still linger on the collar of the dress despite herself, fine fabric shifting beneath her fingers. She doesn’t want to take it off. She doesn’t want to lose the feeling she has now, like her mistakes are all behind her and the future is at her fingertips.

Enoshima snorts. “No way! Hisakawa owes me a favor for saving her last show. Think of it as a gift, from her to me to you.” She slides one arm around Natsumi’s shoulders. “To celebrate a bright new partnership.”

Natsumi wears the dress and the shoes out of the store.

*

me 14:56 i’m on my way back now

me 14:56 wait for me outside the dorm

peko 14:56 Yes, young mistress.

*

Peko’s expression is pinched and tight when Natsumi sees her next. (Outside the dorm, as promised.) She steps forward when she sees her, relief smoothing out the lines.

“Welcome back, young mistress,” she says. Natsumi doesn’t break stride. Peko takes the cue to fall into step beside her. “Is something the matter?”

“Nope,” Natsumi answers. “We’re going to get my brother.”

Peko’s steps don’t hesitate, but she does look back over her shoulder, at the retreating dorm behind them. “Fuyuhiko-sama was—” She pauses, considers, chooses her words. “Agitated, when I saw him last. I don’t know if—”

“Too bad for him!” Natsumi’s heart is beating fast. The west building is too damn far. “Come on, pick up the pace!”

Peko doesn’t argue anymore. It’s late in the day; students must have already started scattering to their different clubs, but Natsumi knows her brother’s schedule, and she knows she’ll find him when he comes out of the main building.

Once he does, they’re settling this.

There are more students than Natsumi expects lingering on the front steps of the building, but it is the reserve course. Maybe they just have less to do. One of them is Satou, sitting at the base of the steps with a handful of friends who aren't Koizumi, who Natsumi's impressed exist at all.

Satou doesn’t see her, at first. But reserve course students always murmur among themselves when a main course student shows up on the steps of the west building, so it hardly takes any time at all. One of her friends points past her shoulder, and her head turns.

In the next moment, she’s on her feet. Natsumi lets her come, arms crossed and smile lazy, but Satou doesn’t stop when she’s within shouting distance. She charges straight at her, hand grasping blindly for her shoulder, and Peko has to shove her arm between them to shake her off. Satou at least knows enough not to swing at Peko; she only jerks her arm away and retreats a few steps like a dumb, injured dog.

“Hey!” Natsumi snaps. “Hands off! What the hell is your problem?”

Satou doesn’t back down. “My problem?” she shouts. Every head in the courtyard turns towards them. “You! It’s always you! Nothing gives you the right to treat people the way you do, Natsumi. You’re disgusting. You’re the worst. I can’t believe you’d even show your face here.”

“Ohhhh.” Natsumi rolls her eyes high, with her entire head. “I get it. Is this about Koizumi-san? Did she go crying to you again? Why am I not surprised?”

“I don’t know why she even still bothers trying to help you. You’re a lost cause. I don’t think you even have a heart at all.”

Students are starting to circle around them. None of the reserve course students have the guts to interrupt, not with Peko already grasping her shinai with one hand, but they watch, drawn in like bugs to a lantern. Fuyuhiko is one of them; he’s lingering at the top of the steps, Hinata behind him. Natsumi can see him past Satou’s shoulder, watching her.

“What do you know about it, huh?” she says. “Did you know you’re one of her little projects, too?” Satou scoffs, arms crossed. “No? You only talk to her, what, twice a week? That’s right, isn’t it? That’s about how often she decides she feels like gracing you with her presence? Do you think it makes her feel better about herself, sharing her talent with you wastes of space? Does she give herself brownie points for being the guiding light in your piss poor excuse for a life?”

Satou is glaring at her, but her cheeks are red. She doesn’t say anything, and Natsumi laughs in her face. “That’s what I thought. How does it feel, knowing you’ll never amount to anything other than a leech hanging off the back of Koizumi-san’s skirt?”

“They should’ve expelled you,” Satou spits. “You’re an embarrassment to Hope’s Peak.”

The other students gasp. Some of them start to whisper. Others laugh nervously. Natsumi isn’t sure how many or how loudly; her ears are ringing and her skin is cold, and the smug look on Satou’s face sets off something sour in her gut.

“Hey!” Her brother lunges to the front of the gathered crowd, elbow in the ribcage of some tittering girl, and Hinata has to catch him at the chest before he breaks the line. “The fuck did you just say to my sister, bitch?”

“Kuzuryuu— Hang on, calm down—”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down when this bitch is over here running her goddamn mouth—”

Satou keeps talking. She’s always been taller and broader than Natsumi; when Satou presses into her space, she looms. “You’re not talented. You’re a bully. That’s the only reason you’re still around. Watase-sensei and the other judges knew what a fraud you were, and look how you treated them! You don’t deserve to be in the main course with Mahiru!”

Natsumi’s had enough.

She hits Satou across the face, somewhere between a slap and a punch, the edges of her knuckles colliding with Satou’s cheekbone. The impact reverberates through the courtyard; it's hard enough to send Satou to the concrete. The shot of pain up it sends up the length of Natsumi’s arm expands in her chest as a full, giddy feeling, and rises straight up to her head.

A handful of overdramatic students scream, and the rest scatter like frightened birds.

It’s Natsumi’s turn to loom. Satou is holding both hands against her face when Natsumi steps over her, and they drop when Natsumi steps on her, shoe against her collarbone. There’s a bright slash of red along her cheek where the edge of Natsumi’s nail dug too deep.

She has to keep her ankle at a precise angle to keep the sharp point of her heel from digging too deeply into Satou’s chest. Natsumi can admire it even better at this angle, where it draws a dark smear of dirt across Satou’s white blouse.

“I think we need to have a chat, Satou-san,” Natsumi says. She keeps her voice high and delicate, and keeps a smile on her face. “Since you obviously didn’t hear me the first time. Which is funny, because I thought I was pretty clear, you know?” The ring of students around them is silent. “But maybe you’re just too stupid to get it. That’s fine. I’ll say it one more time, since we’re old friends, and this time I’ll even use small words.”

She leans down until all her weight is on the ball of her right foot. She can feel the way the cartilage in Satou’s shoulder strains under the pressure.

“My business is my business. Not yours. Not Koizumi-san’s. So you don’t need to concern yourself with it, okay? I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to hear about you. Ever.” The setting sun is warm against her back. It dumps her shadow over Satou’s trembling face. “We’re not going to have this conversation again. Understand?”

Satou’s chest heaves. Natsumi leans over her. “Sorry, Satou-san, I really need to be sure you get it this time, you know? I said—” She drives her heel down. “—do you understand?”

Satou scrabbles at the back of Natsumi’s heel, trying to relieve the pressure. Her chin jerks, intentional or not.

Natsumi lifts her weight up. She laughs when Satou scrambles away from her, tights tearing on the dirty concrete, and puts both hands on her hips. “Good enough! Glad we could get that settled, huh?” She tilts her head back. “Peko-chan, we’re leaving.”

“Yes, young mistress.”

She looks at her brother, where he's shoved his way to the front of the mass of students, Hinata’s hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t have the same wide-eyed, dumbfounded expression as the others, but she has trouble reading the expression he does have, his mouth thin and his brow creased. “Well?” she asks.

He rolls his shoulder to shake off Hinata’s hand. He nods at her, a shallow dip of his chin, and when she walks away the two of them are behind her, Fuyuhiko at her right shoulder and Peko at her left.