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Makoto was easy to ignore. In fact, he was so forgettable, he practically blended in with his surroundings.
So, no, of course Byakuya had hardly noticed Makoto in the library every day over the past few weeks, sitting at a nearby round table with all of his books and papers spread about in an unorganized mess. But the tables in this library were plentiful, sizes big and small that could have served him just as well, if not better than that one. The one in clear view from where Byakuya played a game of chess against himself, as per his daily ritual.
Again, he was easy to ignore. Byakuya had no more than a passing recognition of his presence.
However…weeks passed like this, Byakuya’s thirty minute chess sessions now with the inclusion of a silently studying Makoto. And soon, his indifference began to inch toward mild irritation. Makoto may not have said a word, but at some point he developed a habit of losing his focus and would make repeated attempts to catch Byakuya’s eye. The reasoning for this was unclear to him.
Byakuya deigned not to acknowledge it, keeping his gaze set firmly on the game in front of him before exiting the library without a word. Once, in a brief, uncharacteristic slip-up, he did have the misfortune of happening to meet Makoto’s glance with his own. Makoto’s expression brightened into a misguided and doltish smile; worse still, he had the gall to shoot Byakuya a wave.
Byakuya glowered and returned his attention to the board, assuming that even someone as thick-headed as Makoto could receive the message.
What exactly was Makoto doing here studying by himself in the library, for what had now been a month? He had a wealth of friends equally as idiotic as himself to choose from so that he didn’t study alone.
Not that it mattered any. It was only that he preferred true silence when contemplating chess strategies, as opposed to this. The constant scratch of Makoto’s pencil on paper, the spasmodic flipping of pages, and the obnoxious sound of him muttering words under his breath as he read, because he had apparently not paid any attention during first grade when the concept of silent reading was introduced. How disturbing.
It was not an optimal way to improve. He considered moving to sit elsewhere, but quickly dismissed the idea. He refused to show any indication that he was bothered by Makoto’s continuous presence. Makoto, who meant less to him than the dirt he walked on.
Makoto, who was maybe not so easy to ignore as he’d first assumed.
It turned out that he should have gone with his inclination to move, because it wasn’t more than a day after that when Makoto spoke to him, crossing the thin line he’d too graciously assumed the other was aware of.
It was as he’d just begun today’s game, fingers twitching over a pawn when Makoto cleared his throat, interrupting his peace and quiet.
“Um…hey, Byakuya?” he said, his voice quiet from a few feet away.
If Byakuya ignored him, maybe he’d leave him alone.
After placing Black’s pawn, he moved on to White. He did have a particular strategy in mind today, but he was well aware of the importance of not rushing through a solo game.
“Byakuya…?”
The black pawn came down to meet its twin. Next he picked up White’s knight.
He heard Makoto stand from his seat, steps padding through the library. Perhaps he was wrong.
Now, if he moved the black knight, then—
“Hey, Byakuya. Did you hear me? I, uh…”
Byakuya snapped out of focus, fixing Makoto a sharp glare. He stood with his hands awkwardly at his sides, eyes darting from the chess table to Byakuya.
“What,” Byakuya said, allowing irritation to seep into his tone.
Makoto scratched at the nape of his neck. “I…didn’t know you played chess, is all.”
Byakuya sighed, heavy and impatient. This exchange had lasted all but ten seconds, and he was already done with it. “Are you really stupid enough to believe that a member of the Togami family wouldn’t know how to play chess? I’d be insulted if I didn’t already expect so little of you.”
Makoto stared down at the floor, shoulders hunching. Byakuya had never met someone so spineless in his life. It was beyond pathetic.
“I-I knew you’d know how to play, but I was surprised that you play it every day. That was it.”
Byakuya was on the verge of explaining the obvious, that as the heir to the Togami Corporation it was vital for him to keep his mind sharply honed. But then he remembered who, exactly, he was talking to.
“I don’t remember agreeing to a conversation with you. Go away.”
Makoto winced at his words as though they caused him actual, physical harm. Pathetic indeed.
Yet he stood fast where he was. “Could I play a game with you before I go?”
Byakuya scoffed. “Please. Know your place, Makoto.”
“But, I—“
“Why in the world would I play a game against you? I’m here to improve, not waste my time defeating an imbecile.”
Makoto’s mouth screwed into a frown. He didn’t appear quite as discouraged as Byakuya had planned. “You…you can’t say that for sure. You’ve never seen me play, right?”
“Stop wasting my time.”
Makoto responded by pulling out the chair across from Byakuya’s, and sat himself down in a rush.
Byakuya grinded his teeth. He’d known Makoto was a nuisance, but this kind of behavior was a new low. Right when that Toko girl had finally found a singular other human being to pester, too (who also happened to be a Naegi—a strange coincidence?). “What do you think you’re doing?” he said, voice rising. “I can very easily get a restraining order put on you.”
“H-hey, wait!” Makoto’s hands flew up in a gesture Byakuya assumed was meant to be pacifying. Personally, he found it demeaning. “Hold on, please. Just this one game…that’s it. And I’ll never bother you again, I promise.”
A promise from a commoner like Makoto meant nothing, Byakuya knew. As worthless as the boy himself.
Still…considering the situation he was in, he might as well ride on that small possibility of it being the truth. If Byakuya’s threats didn’t deter him, there wasn’t anything that would, was there? That was Makoto’s only notable trait—stubbornness. If this promise was a lie—the most likely scenario—he would have every opportunity to place a restraining order in the days following.
“Go on, then,” Byakuya said tersely. “If you insist on making a fool of yourself, go ahead and set up the board.”
Makoto visibly swallowed, but must not have been intimidated enough to back out. Byakuya nearly began to think of it as the first impressive display he’d seen from him, but corrected the thought. The only way in which this could be considered impressive was for its sheer stupidity.
And even then, this level of naivety was typical for one of the masses.
Makoto seemed unsure and slow in his movements as he put the pieces back to their starting positions. He inspected a knight the same way a curious toddler would an unfamiliar object.
“That spent up three more minutes of my time,” Byakuya said once Makoto finally finished. “I would ask to be compensated by the minute, but I know the Naegi name has less than nothing to it. Really, you should be eternally grateful that I’m even allowing someone as dim as yourself to play against someone like me. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to be beaten this thoroughly.”
Makoto had been drumming his fingers on the table as Byakuya spoke.
“Um, okay.”
“God, you really have absolutely nothing of value to say.”
“Sorry,” Makoto said, further proving his point. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to something like that…”
“Yes, I’m well aware that you lack basic conversational skills,” Byakuya sighed. “Just start the game already.”
Makoto started at that, looking down at the board as though he’d forgotten why he was there entirely. Byakuya wouldn’t be shocked if that were the case.
“I…I go first?”
“Are you blind?” Byakuya gestured at the board. “You’re white. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how chess works?”
“Well, actually…” Makoto fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket. Those types of nervous habits betrayed a lack of confidence Byakuya found repulsive. “I’ve never played chess before.”
Byakuya paused. Makoto…didn’t know how to play chess? He’d never once played chess, in his entire life? How uncultured could one person be?
And not only that—he’d then decided it was a good idea to challenge Byakuya to a game of it, not even mentioning his complete lack of knowledge? Just what was he playing at?
Byakuya tightened his fist until it was white-knuckled. “Then it would be in your best interest to do us both a favor and get out of my sight.”
Makoto blinked, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. It would have been amusing if it weren’t so obnoxious.
“What? Cat got your tongue, Makoto? I don’t have the time to spend on teaching a waste of oxygen to play chess. I’m sure it’s difficult for someone like you, who spends all of his time watching mindless drivel on television to understand, but there are some of us—“
“Teach me really quick,” Makoto said, effectively cutting him off. “It’ll…only take twenty minutes, so…”
Byakuya’s mouth opened and shut uselessly, briefly caught in silent bafflement. Makoto mimicked his silence, holding Byakuya’s gaze despite the sweat forming on his temple. Ridiculous.
“The goal of chess,” Byakuya gritted out, “is to aim for a checkmate. Surely even you have heard of the term.”
Makoto nodded briskly. “Yeah, I have. It’s…when the king is captured, right?”
“Not quite. A checkmate occurs when one player has the other’s king in a position where it cannot move to another square, nor be protected by another piece, and its opponent cannot be captured.” He huffed. “Was that simple enough for you? Or need I dumb it down further?”
A shake of the head. “No, I’m good. Sorry. But how do all the other pieces move?”
Byakuya was beginning to wonder if spending too much time around someone with such a low IQ was starting to lower his own, because he couldn’t fathom why he bothered to keep teaching the idiot. In a strange way, he thought, Makoto was far worse than Toko ever was. At the very least she would follow his orders when he wanted her out of his sight.
It was hard to believe he was doing this, but he cleared his throat and proceeded to explain the basic rules of chess in as simple and condescending a manner as possible. Five entire minutes of his time had been lost by the end of it.
“I think I get it now,” Makoto said, a focused draw to his brows. He was an attentive listener, which may have done him good if there were anything other than hot air filling his head.
“Then make your move. It will only take one to doom you.”
Makoto grasped a pawn with clammy hands, starting off the game.
Byakuya snorted at his move. “An utterly average move for an utterly average person,” he mused, going for a pawn of his own. There was, of course, a vast difference between Makoto and himself moving their pawns. Byakuya had years of experience and strategy to reference, while Makoto mindlessly picked out the first piece to catch his eye with no plan in mind.
Regardless, because of this world of difference in their abilities, Byakuya made his moves swiftly and didn’t bother to expend much mental energy on the game. He could’ve beaten Makoto with a blindfold on, after all.
Makoto was the polar opposite, taking extended lengths of time on his turns to study the board with a frown and a hand to his chin. It did seem he was giving this his all, as little as it would amount to in the end.
“You’re really good at this,” he commented at some point during the match, as Byakuya finished his turn in five seconds flat and furthered his control over the center of the board.
“Naturally.” Byakuya hardly needed to pay the board any attention at this point. “I’m more than just good. I’ve defeated multiple famous chess grandmasters from across the globe.” He smirked, basking in the memories of past victories.
“Wow. Really?”
He sounded impressed, but not nearly to the height such a declaration warranted. Which came as no surprise. Someone like Makoto couldn’t comprehend the gravity a title like chess grandmaster held. The only title Makoto held was functionally useless and handed to him through pure, dumb luck. Really, it made him wonder what Hope’s Peak was coming to.
“Yes, really,” Byakuya said, moving a rook without a second thought or glance. It’d been about—he checked his watch—eight minutes now, so he presumed he’d be ending this game soon. “So I do hope you’re using this opportunity to take notes. Perhaps if you do, you may one day be competent enough to face off against a grade schooler.”
Makoto acted like he hadn’t heard him, scrutinizing the layout of chess pieces like he was playing with his life on the line, rather than with the knowledge and acceptance of his inevitable loss. How sad.
“You could stand to hurry it up,” Byakuya snipped. “It isn’t as if there’s any real chance of you winning. I don’t know if you’re capable of listening, but as I said before, I have bested some of the highest ranking chess players in the world. At least attempt to wrap your mind around it.”
Makoto raised his chin. “I know I probably won’t win, but—“
“You will unequivocally lose.”
He averted his eyes. “I know I’ll…unequivocally lose, or whatever, but…I still want to try.”
Byakuya rolled his eyes as Makoto moved one of his pieces—he didn’t concern himself with noting which one or where to. “Hmph. A pointless endeavor, then. You should know that the only way to keep a shred of your dignity is to forfeit.”
Makoto stayed quiet, his stare fixed on the board with an odd intensity.
Byakuya frowned and wasted no time ending his turn. “But I suppose we mustn't forget that you have about as much regard for your own dignity as a wild ape.”
He observed as Makoto very, very carefully selected his next piece.
“Has your slow mind finally reached a glacial pace?” Byakuya said, irritated at his silence and how he was letting this drag on. “Or have you gone braindead entirely? Honestly, you—“
“Ch-checkmate!” Makoto burst out. “I think.”
Byakuya laughed, then, suddenly and less controlled than he preferred—but how could he help it, when Makoto said such ludicrous things? Checkmate. God. Still, he ceased his laughter with a small cough before it went too far.
“I didn’t think you were capable of humor,” Byakuya said, unable to suppress his bemused smile. “I’m forced to admit, you’ve actually done something unexpected for once.”
Makoto seemed troubled. “But…I’m not joking, Byakuya. Look at the board!” he pointed at said board with fervent energy.
Byakuya quirked a brow, and punctuated it with a puff of air from his nose. “The joke has run its course. Learn to quit while you’re ahead.”
“Look!” Makoto stressed, flailing his hands over the board like a maniac. The ape comparison rang true.
Byakuya decided to humor him. In the worst case scenario, Makoto had forgotten the rules of the game that had been explained to him mere minutes ago and Byakuya had yet more reason to place a restraining order as soon as possible. So he adjusted his glasses and inspected the board, truly taking it in for the first time in a few turns.
He skimmed over to reach his king, which as he last remembered had never left its starting point. Yes, there it was, with…
Makoto’s queen directly in front of it. Makoto’s queen in front of it, and one of Byakuya’s own rooks on e7, flanked by his pawns on f7 and h6. Sitting there uselessly, doing absolutely nothing to prevent their king’s demise.
Byakuya’s voice felt faint and far away when he said, “What?” and he adjusted his glasses once more. Clearly his eyesight wasn’t to be trusted. He’d be upping his prescription immediately.
Yet as long as he squinted, what he saw on the board refused to budge. As stiff and static as Makoto, who sat there fidgeting with his hands. Smiling. Looking tentatively proud of himself.
“What the hell?” Shock turned to anger on the flip of a coin. “What the hell did you do, Makoto?”
Makoto receded further into his seat, grin shrinking under his nerves more with each passing second.
“I—I won?”
Byakuya slammed a fist down onto the table. Perhaps harder than he intended. The sound rang out in the muted library, the chess board rattling and a pawn or two dropping to the floor.
“How could you beat me?”
Makoto had adopted that deer-in-headlights expression again, his jaw hanging open like a delinquent. “H-Hey, calm down,” he said. Byakuya bit back a growl. “I guess I, I just—“
“You cheated,” Byakuya stated, ice-cold. “You moved your pieces illegally while I wasn’t looking.”
“No, that’s wrong!” Makoto pushed himself halfway out of his seat, palms flat on the table. “I made my moves really slowly! You saw every one.”
Byakuya choked on his words. “That—that’s—you—“
Makoto had beaten him? Makoto, who could be best likened to an ant under his shoe? Makoto, who was lower than dirt? Makoto, so talentless his only hope of infiltrating Hope’s Peak was through a lottery draw? Pathetic, useless, moronic Makoto…
Had bested him in a game of logic?
The very idea was enough to make him want to gag.
“It—it can’t be,” he said, half to himself. “This has to be…beginner’s luck. It’s that…’Ultimate Lucky Student’ of yours. In fact, you…you were trying to distract me, weren’t you?”
Makoto cocked his head, coming across as clueless in virtually every way. “What? How did I—“
“You’re more devious than you look, then,” Byakuya glared. “Trying to distract me with trite, idle attempts at conversation.”
Makoto continued to have a stupid look on his face. But for him to have executed such advanced critical thinking…there had to be something hidden there, under the surface.
“Don’t misunderstand me.” Byakuya came to stand, adjusting his lapels. “This is not an admittance of defeat. I don’t lose. But I expect you to be here tomorrow at three o’clock sharp, so we can have a real game.”
With those words hanging in the air, he turned and strode out of the library without sparing Makoto a single glance. He left the mess he’d made of the board behind.
Either Makoto or a librarian could clean it up. It wasn’t his job.
*
If Byakuya was quick to anger for the rest of the day, none had the guts to say it to his face.
At night, his irritability turned to anguish. His thoughts spiraled as he tried again and again to recall each and every move he’d made during the game, each and every move Makoto had made in turn. It turned out to be an exercise in futility. It was difficult to accept, but he came to the conclusion that he’d violated a cardinal rule of chess, and of life in general.
He’d let his guard down.
The fact was left to simmer and boil overnight. It made him feel physically ill. How could he rest, with this on his conscience?
By the time the beginnings of daylight pierced its way through the window, sleep looked like nothing more than a pipe dream. He had no choice but to resign himself to a miserable, sleep-deprived day at Hope’s Peak Academy.
Yet it was somehow worse than he’d imagined. Because Byakuya made a point to fall asleep and wake up at the same time every day, a full eight hours to ensure optimal mental and physiological function. The jarring interruption to his established schedule, combined with the exhaustion that hit him like a sack of bricks around noon, was enough to push him quite close to the edge. Irritable would now be an understatement.
And all of it, caused by one Makoto Naegi.
But it didn't matter. Nothing to fret over, as he reminded himself repeatedly throughout the day. Makoto’s defeat today would be so devastating, so spirit-crushing, that he’d never be able to bring himself to gaze upon a chess set again; not for the rest of his pointless life. Byakuya would ensure it.
There was no need to worry. Everything was just fine.
“Are you okay?” Makoto asked at 3 o’clock that day, distracting Byakuya from his thoughts. He hadn’t sat at the chess table yet, nor even said hello. Was this his idea of a greeting? “I mean, you seemed pretty upset yesterday. A-And you look kind of—tired?”
With the way he said it, like it pained him to do so, it made Byakuya wonder why he’d spoken at all.
“I don’t want to hear a single word out of you today,” Byakuya snapped, pulling out his seat on the black side of the board. “Keep that blathering mouth of yours shut.”
But Makoto was not Toko, so he blathered on anyway.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad, by the way. I don’t even know how I won, really. It probably was just luck.” He added a self-deprecating laugh.
His ramblings hardly registered to Byakuya. It sounded like distant, incomprehensible mumbling, impossible to make sense of.
He blinked at the chessboard a few times, willing it to look less…blurry. Maybe he was right about his prescription.
“You’re here to play chess,” he said after a delayed pause, not having noticed that Makoto had finished speaking quite a while ago. “Sit down, or go ahead and give up and scurry away like the coward you are.”
“Um…okay.” Makoto sat down. He wore an odd expression that Byakuya didn’t have the will to dissect at the moment.
Besides, he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted again. No matter what words came from Makoto, no matter how idiotic or senseless or laughable. Byakuya would have his pride restored, and he’d be standing tall on top, as he always had and always would. That was the natural balance of this world, after all. It was a cruel, cruel fate for those stuck on the lower rungs of society. Those like Makoto. But that was reality.
“Hey, Byakuya…?” Makoto said, pulling Byakuya from his musings once again. “The board’s already set up. Are you ready to start yet?”
“Of course I am. I’m always ready,” he said quickly. “In actuality, it’s I who should be asking that question to you. So let me ask you now, Makoto: are you ready to lose?”
“Sure, if you say so,” Makoto muttered, and picked up the same pawn he had yesterday. How uninspired. No originality.
Byakuya carefully considered his opening strategy, and decided to go with an old favorite of his: the Sicilian Defense. A timeless classic. He placed the c7 pawn to its new home on c5.
It seemed that Makoto had finally learned his lesson. He remained silent throughout the game, not a single unnecessary remark.
Good. It gave Byakuya more opportunity to focus.
Despite his increasing light-headedness, and the way each blink lasted a second too long—and would have continued indefinitely if he didn’t make the effort to force his eyes back open, ignoring the persistent sting behind them.
Despite this, he focused, taking his turns slowly. He didn’t let his guard down for an instant. He paid attention.
And what he noticed was how experienced Makoto came across as. He made use of multiple tactics, common, uncommon, advanced, and everything in-between. He played well. Coming from the one who claimed to have never played a chess game in his life.
It was mid game now, and it was closely tied between them, piece after piece captured and thrown to the wayside. Far more drawn-out than their first game had been. To an outsider, it may have appeared that it was anyone’s game at this point. But Byakuya knew what he was doing. Victory was easily within his reach, despite the pieces sometimes swimming in his vision.
“I refuse to believe you’d never touched a chess piece before yesterday,” Byakuya said on one of his turns. It’d been five minutes on this turn. Not because he was stumped, no. He was simply predicting how the rest of the rest of the game would play out. “There is no reality in which a beginner could utilize these strategies—unless that person is gifted with an exceptionally genius intellect. And please, don’t even think of claiming to be gifted. I’m not sure I have any respect left to lose for you.”
Makoto had jumped at the sound of his voice, for whatever reason. “I…wasn’t gonna say that. But I wasn’t lying to you yesterday. I really hadn’t played before.”
At any other time, Byakuya would have deduced his statement to be genuine. Nothing about his body language, tone, or overall demeanor deviated from the norm. But the idea that one of the unwashed, mindless members of the general public held the kind of intelligence that could stand up to Byakuya’s in a game of chess…
“You have zero classical training, Makoto. You had a mediocre educational background before chancing your way into Hope’s Peak Academy. You couldn’t be this competent without at least some amount of practice. Are you trying to make a fool of me?”
Makoto frowned. “Just ‘cause I never went to a fancy school doesn’t mean I can’t be good at chess. And anyone…even the poorest people can have hidden talents. I mean, the only difference is that they don’t get to show off as much.”
“Tch. Of course you would say something so obtuse. I’m sure it brings you comfort, seeing as you’re so very close to being considered poor yourself.” He spared Makoto’s worn, ratty jacket a once-over full of distaste.
There was, as Byakuya had noticed, a marked difference in how Makoto carried himself when in a focused state during these chess matches. Still meek and ineffectual, but…he had the tiniest bit more fire in him. He assumed that was why he straightened like he did.
“Well, I won’t be for long. I made it into Hope’s Peak Academy, didn’t I?”
There it was, that tiny bit of fire. Did he mention how small it was? Easily doused, too.
Which Byakuya would take pleasure in doing. Because he decided he didn’t like it.
It was pitiful to see someone like Makoto, who would die and be instantly forgotten by the world, trying to delude himself into thinking that his life held any sort of meaning.
Yes, he’d better squash that—or, wait. Wait. He still needed to make his move, which had waited long enough. No distractions. Makoto’s queen was out on the prowl, so…no, no. Byakuya had captured his queen last turn. How could he forget? Right, then…
“Byakuya?”
His eyes flew open. When had he closed them? His eyelids felt heavy. There was a sense of vertigo.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Makoto’s eyes were wide and shone with unfiltered concern. It irritated him.
He scowled. “My apologies. Your mind-numbing speech was boring enough to nearly put me to sleep.” It didn’t sound as put-together as he wanted—too tired, too drained.
“Maybe we should keep playing tomorrow,” Makoto continued, undeterred. “You don’t seem very—“
“Shut up.” Byakuya plunked his knight down. It seemed like a fine move at the time.
Makoto lowered his eyes. Wrung his hands. Easy to douse.
He did, indeed, shut up. However, Byakuya’s relief didn't last long.
Because Makoto proceeded to make a series of unexpected moves which put Byakuya into a rather…compromising position.
He wasn’t worried, though. He’d turn the tables in no time. Makoto would face his defeat. Byakuya only had to use his sharpest weapon: logic.
Three minutes later, it was less fine.
“How did you know to do that?” The words came out before he could think better of them. He rushed to add, “And don’t go getting an inflated ego—there’s already enough air inside your head. I know precisely how to counter this.”
Makoto shrugged. “I don’t know, really. It kinda just…made sense.” So that was Makoto’s pathetic strategy. Hoping the things that ‘made sense’ would simply come to him. “But if you know how to counter it, then I guess it wasn’t all that smart.”
Byakuya didn’t say anything, because…he had no idea how to counter Makoto’s play. Without any warning, he found himself with no plan of escape, no method to turn this game around. His sharpest weapon was nowhere to be found.
If he couldn’t get his act together, there would be only a handful of turns until his king would be surrounded by Makoto’s few remaining pieces.
Every single way out he crafted inevitably ended with giving Makoto an easy alternative route. Minutes had passed without a move.
It wasn’t an easy decision. But he followed his own advice, to keep at least a shred of his dignity.
“I…quit,” Byakuya said, careful not to say forfeit.
Makoto’s eyebrows flew up. “What? You quit?”
“I quit,” Byakuya repeated. “Playing chess with you has been an utter waste of my time. You’re terrible at it. I don’t know how I failed to see it sooner. Your previous victory was, clearly, a fluke. You…” he clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t owe someone as lowly as Makoto any explanation. He could do whatever he wanted in this world, with no consequences. He was Byakuya Togami, after all.
He tried to stand, ignoring Makoto’s stunned silence—but his surroundings spun, and he steadied himself by planting his hand down on one side of the chess set.
“H-Hey!” Makoto had startled from his seat. His hand was outstretched and had landed on Byakuya’s sleeve, as though to keep him balanced.
Byakuya yanked his arm back. “Don’t touch me,” he grimaced. “Lest your poverty spread like some kind of disease.”
“Sorry. But you don’t have to be rude about it.” Makoto shook his head. There was a frustrated edge to his frown. “I was trying to help, you know.”
Byakuya scoffed, and it was a harsher sound than he expected. “Your childlike sensitivity is a sorry sight. I’ll be leaving now.”
He turned to leave without stumbling this time. Makoto called out before he could take more than two steps.
“Byakuya…aren’t you just leaving because you’re about to lose?”
Byakuya whipped around. “What was that?”
He’d given Makoto the perfect chance to backpedal and save his hide, but as he’d shown time and time again, he lacked the common sense to take the safe way out.
“I—I said I think you’re quitting so you won’t have to lose.”
Byakuya grinded his teeth; the sound shifted around in his head. “You couldn’t be more wrong. As I said before, I could win this game easily. But unlike you, I have more important matters in my life to attend to.”
“Why won’t you finish it, then? If you say it’ll be so quick and easy…”
“And why would I bother?”
“‘Cause, you’re the one who invited me to play in the first place. Remember?”
“That’s—“ Byakuya stopped. That was…true, admittedly. “You know what? Fine. I can’t say I understand why you’re so insistent on losing. But fine.”
Makoto grinned, and Byakuya sat back down. He decided to make the move with the most promise in this situation. If Makoto didn’t see his opening, there was a real chance of taking this game back.
The possibility of him seeing it was infinitesimally low. If Byakuya was on the white side, there was a good chance he himself wouldn’t have realized it.
Not even a minute had passed, and Makoto saw it and made one of his quickest moves yet.
“Dammit,” Byakuya muttered. Sweat formed on his palms. There was truly no way out now—Makoto had him cornered.
The next two turns passed in silence that was fraught with tension, bringing Byakuya closer and closer to his—inevitable—end. Frankly, it was humiliating. He should’ve left while he still could.
“Checkmate,” Makoto said on the third turn, with none of the triumphant satisfaction of yesterday.
Byakuya could only stare at the layout of the board, and wonder how it had come to this.
“You will be here tomorrow,” he said, a kind of resolve taking over. “You’ve forced me to acknowledge you as a worthy opponent. But tomorrow I’ll put an end to this little game.”
Makoto’s jaw dropped. He must’ve been quite taken aback.
And just as well. Byakuya didn’t say things like this lightly.
It was difficult to understand how a person could be so consistently stupid, yet show such keen intellect at the same time—it eluded him, it really did. But if Makoto had some kind of inexplicable, freak talent for chess, then so be it. All it meant was that Byakuya would have to put more effort into beating him.
“O…kay,” Makoto said. “Then, I guess I’ll see you—“
“And don’t tell anyone about this. I mean it. This stays between you and me.” The absolute last thing he wanted was for word to spread and get distorted that Makoto had bested him in chess, like this was some kind of petty gossip and not as simple as Makoto understandably catching Byakuya off guard after he’d been awake for over twenty-four hours.
When Makoto didn’t immediately agree, Byakuya glared down at him with all the heat he could muster.
But Makoto only smiled an uneasy smile, one that grew in size the longer their stalemate lasted.
It couldn’t be. “…Don’t tell me you—“
“Ah, about that,” Makoto laughed, though it was clear he didn’t find this funny. “I kinda already—“
“You told someone about the other day.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah,” Makoto confirmed, looking exactly like a mouse staring down a tiger’s maw. “S-Sorry. I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”
Byakuya took a slow breath. “Who, exactly, did you tell?”
Makoto avoided his eyes. “Um…well, don’t get mad at them, okay? I’m the one who said it.”
“Spit it out already, Makoto.”
“Okay, geez. It was Sayaka.”
Ah, yes. The one Makoto trailed behind like a stray puppy. “The…Ultimate Pop Sensation.”
“B-But she’s trustworthy!” Makoto scrambled to say. “She told me once that she’s good at keeping secrets ‘cause being an idol means a lot of behind the scenes stuff!”
Her line of work could also make her a skilled liar, Byakuya thought.
But Sayaka was no threat to him. In his mind, she and Makoto shared a similar space—worthless talents and boring, two-dimensional personalities. It was no wonder that Makoto had such a hopeless crush on her. It must’ve been a truly special thing to find someone as bland as himself in such a prestigious school.
“I suppose there could be worse,” Byakuya said. “And it isn’t like anything can be done n—“
A yawn, long and involuntary, cut into his sentence. His jaw ached with the sudden force of it.
“—N-Now.”
Makoto burst out laughing.
The kind of laughter that shook his shoulders, that he tried to stifle and cover but failed completely.
It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Byakuya scowled. “Goodbye.”
And he turned and left. When Makoto started throwing out apologies undermined by the continuous laughter that interrupted them, he walked faster.
The last he heard was, “S-sorry! Just get some rest, Byakuya!” His voice was all wobbly. The sound of someone shushing followed it. It was actually shocking that it’d taken this long for a librarian to intercept, after all this time.
Regardless, Byakuya had never slept as deeply as he did that evening.
*
“So,” Makoto coughed. “Do you, um…have any crushes? On anybody?”
Makoto’s turn had stretched on nine minutes now—Byakuya had been keeping track. For some incomprehensible reason, he seemed more interested in engaging in relentless small talk than actually playing the game today. It was a nightmare.
Byakuya stared. “No.”
“Okay,” Makoto said. “Well, I do, at least.”
Was this what Byakuya had spent every free moment between classes studying books on chess strategy for? This?
“What do you think this is, a slumber party? Grow up.”
Makoto rubbed the back of his neck. “But it’s normal for teenagers to talk about that sort of stuff, y’know?”
No, actually, Byakuya didn’t know. He’d spent his teenage life focused on more important things—like gaining power and influence, trading stocks, and upkeeping his family name.
“And there is exactly where the difference between us lies. Those who excel in society don’t spend their time on childish flights of fancy.”
Out of everything Byakuya had said today, this seemed to be what ticked Makoto off.
“It’s not childish to like someone!”
But of course it was this. He’d struck a particular nerve. “Not to mention, Makoto, one would think you’d have gotten the memo by now. That Sayaka girl has zero interest in you beyond friendship.”
Makoto froze. His entire face filled with color. Predictable.
“S-Sayaka?” He echoed.
Byakuya smirked. “It’s tragic, really. You two, with your equally worthless Ultimates, would make a perfectly worthless pair. If only it weren’t impossible—even if she did happen to return your feelings, as an idol, she’s forbidden from relationships. It’s a poor man’s Romeo and Juliet.”
“Actually…” Makoto shifted in his seat, face still flushed. “I don’t really have a crush on Sayaka anymore.”
“No?” That was unexpected. “I’m guessing she rejected you.”
“Pretty much,” Makoto sighed. “But it was okay. She said we could still be friends. And soon my crush kinda disappeared, and now I think she’s probably better as a friend anyway. Then I got a new crush, and…she’s been trying to help me out with it all the time. Pretty embarrassing.”
Byakuya came scarily close to asking who this ‘new crush’ was. Further evidence that idiocy breeds idiocy.
“That is more information than I ever wanted to know. I don’t know how to explain to you that I couldn’t care less for your romantic endeavors. We’re here to—“ he looked at the board, then checked his watch. “Just end your turn already.”
“Okay, sorry,” Makoto said, quickly advancing his knight—but he didn’t sound too wounded.
Regardless, now that Byakuya was fully-rested and alert, he was more confident in the prospect of his victory.
In the first game, he’d underestimated his opponent, and thus hadn’t been focusing.
In the second game, his mind had functioned at half capacity without any sleep, so he hadn’t been able to focus.
Now, he was able to put in his all. He assumed Makoto had realized this and strategized accordingly. Which was what led to these inane questions—they functioned as a disruption to his concentration.
“Have you…seen any movies lately?”
He said it stilted and awkward, like he’d been handed keycards containing the words seconds before reading them off. Byakuya was certain he had no interest in his watching habits; only ulterior motives.
“No,” he said flatly. He went quiet for a bit, trying to see what Makoto was even aiming for on the board. His playstyle was unique at best, and completely random at worst. Somehow it always came together in the end. That was what he needed to prevent, but to do it, he had to know the end goal. “I haven’t had the time to watch one in months.”
“What was the last one you remember seeing?”
“It wasn’t an anime, so I’m sure you wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“I don’t know about that. Try me?”
The title fell idly from his lips, before he could recognize that he was unintentionally participating in the conversation. He was caught up in staring down at the rook he’d been holding an internal debate on taking or leaving.
As expected, Makoto smiled sheepishly. “Well, I guess you were right. I’ve never heard of it. What’s it about?”
Here was his opportunity to shut down the conversation. He humored Makoto. “A film about the underbelly of one of the wealthiest corporations in existence.” It was ripe with uninteresting facts to someone without an interest in the corporate world.
He watched for Makoto’s reaction, fully anticipating bewilderment, followed by a complete lack of interest.
But instead, he leaned in on his elbows. “Hey, that sounds like it could be pretty interesting! I’ve never heard of it,” he said. “Could you tell me more? If you don’t care…”
This was all highly suspicious. Still, Byakuya looked down on him in consideration. “I could enlighten you, but you’d never know the full story. The documentary only tells half of it.”
“Only half?”
“Of course.” He nudged his glasses up with a pointer finger. “With my family name, I have access to top secret records that tell the whole truth. Unfortunately for you, they will remain a mystery.”
“Couldn’t you at least tell me what I can know?” Makoto asked as Byakuya captured the rook he’d been going back and forth on.
“If you so insist…” He said, and went on to deliver a half-baked retelling of the film.
It was five minutes or so into it that he realized he’d been thoroughly deceived. He’d fallen right into Makoto’s trap, holding this meaningless conversation when he should’ve been focusing. As soon as it struck him he snapped his jaw shut with a click.
The only strange part was that Makoto hadn’t yet used this to his advantage—he hadn’t ended his turn the whole while. There must’ve been some reason for it.
“Regardless of that, are you going to make a move anytime soon?”
Makoto looked faintly surprised. “Oh, I forgot all about that,” he said, smiling.
“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?” His voice was low with skepticism. “I sincerely doubt you, with your elementary interests, could find the documentary anything other than boring. If you’re trying to distract me, you’re doing a poor job of it. You haven’t moved at all.”
“Huh?” Makoto obviously wasn’t prepared to be called out—he looked the epitome of the word stupefied. “I wasn’t trying to distract you. It was actually interesting! And, I mean…you sounded like you knew a lot, and I sorta thought you would’ve liked talking about it?”
A short wave of repulsion rolled through him. Maybe this was different than he’d thought. “Is that what this is?” his face screwed up. “An attempt to befriend me like you’ve done the rest of your classmates?”
“No! Wait—yes? Uh,” he paused. “Well, I don’t know about befriending yet, but I guess I wanted to hang out, or get to know you or something. Why’s that so bad?”
Byakuya couldn’t imagine a worse scenario if he tried.
“Do you think I’ll start handing out cash if you pester me long enough? Because I wouldn’t spare you a dime if your life depended on it.”
“What? No way!” Makoto waved his hands with force. “I don’t want any money or anything, geez! I just thought that you haven’t really made any friends here after so long, and, y’know…” He casted his gaze beneath the table, down to his shoes.
That confirmed it, then. The true reason he’d spent the day chatting instead of playing the game. Because Makoto had herded each of their classmates into his friendship like sheep; all but one. It was a blow to his fragile ego. That was why he’d so persistently asked to join him in chess that first day—perhaps it was why he’d started studying in the library at all.
So here they were. Makoto moved his only remaining pawn, and the clack of the piece was stark in the silence that’d taken over.
“I think that’s a draw,” Makoto mumbled.
Yes, it was a stalemate. He’d been fearing this would happen.
“Allow me to make myself clear,” Byakuya said, with all the power of a dictator commanding respect. “You and I will never ‘hang out’. You will never truly know anything about me. And we will never be friends.”
Makoto’s brows were drawn. “But I…”
“We will never understand each other. The lives we lead are incongruous with one another, Makoto. We’re more than worlds apart—we’re galaxies apart. How much must I repeat myself? There is no reality in which we are friends. And that’s final.”
Makoto winced. He didn’t retort—Byakuya could see the understanding finally dawn in his eyes, but also the dejection, the hurt this must have brought to his delicate sense of self. Good. He’d clearly needed a reality check.
“Yeah,” Makoto conceded in a mumble. “I guess you’re right.”
A beat of silence, then two, then three passed by.
“I expect you to be here tomorrow,” said Byakuya.
The look Makoto gave him was hard to read. “Okay, I’ll be here.”
*
“Checkmate,” Byakuya announced, his superiority restored to its rightful place.
“Aw, man,” was all Makoto said, resting his cheek on his fist. Disappointed, but far from torn up. He surely wouldn’t be losing any sleep over his loss.
“This was only a matter of time,” Byakuya continued.
“Maybe,” Makoto said.
Byakuya’s smirk faltered. For all that he’d imagined this, the victory felt…somewhat hollow. Makoto wasn’t wiped clean off his pedestal, wasn’t humiliated in his defeat. He was only quietly glum as he’d been all day.
“I guess that’s it,” Makoto said, picking lint from his jacket. “Are you done playing against me? You finally won.”
Byakuya’s mouth tugged into a frown.
That had been his original intention. Defeat Makoto to rid him of any delusions of grandeur, then never interact with him again unless strictly necessary. But now that he was here, he thought, well—what if Makoto’s loss had been a fluke? Byakuya couldn’t be sure of his superiority with a 1-3 win to loss ratio.
And Makoto was acting off today. If something trivial had happened to him beforehand, like tripping over himself in the hallways, it could have thrown off his gamesense, only because he was so highly oversensitive.
He’d get it to 4-3. The restraining order could wait until then.
“No,” he said evenly. He went on, ignoring the way Makoto’s face had brightened all over, every trace of disappointment evaporating like he hadn’t even cared about losing in the first place. “I have to make certain you’re down for good, don’t I? That will require at least three more rounds.”
“Cool!” Makoto grinned, an expression Byakuya was reluctant to acknowledge he’d grown too accustomed to recently. “So—“
“And I’m expressly forbidding any of your inane chattering. Try to start a conversation once and I won’t hesitate to call the whole thing off.” He folded his arms. “Consider yourself lucky I’m even sparing you a single rematch.”
“Fine, sheesh…” Makoto muttered. Byakuya leveled him a pointed look and held it until he cracked. “Okay! I won’t try to talk anymore. I won’t! You don’t need to glare at me like that.”
Somehow, Byakuya didn't believe that. Makoto had proven his inability to keep his trap shut countless times. He would attempt to start another talkfest tomorrow, beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was deeply disturbing how persistent one person could be.
On the other hand, before all of this, he hadn’t been aware of the extent to which Makoto stubbornly persisted…always, always continuing to persist, even when faced with the complete pointlessness of his struggle. Byakuya wasn’t sure what to think of a person like that. And he didn’t like not being sure.
Clearly, he was left with no other choice.
He stood. “Tomorrow, at three o’clock sharp. Be here.”
“I guess it’s a date!” Makoto said, with that self-conscious little laugh of his, like he knew it was a terrible joke but decided to say it anyway.
Byakuya wasn’t sure why, but the nagging sound of it just wouldn’t leave his head.