Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2024-09-12 10:25 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2024-09-12 10:25 pm
Entry tags:
Fanfiction: Above It All (Danganronpa, Togami/Kirigiri)
You go for four years without writing any Danganronpa fanfiction, and then you write two thinly veiled excuses for characters to share the same bedroom within a week. It's always the way.
I blame this one ondoreyg, who opened my eyes to the fact that Togami/Kirigiri is not entirely unlike Light/L.
Title: Above It All
Fandom: Danganronpa
Rating: 14
Pairing: Togami/Kirigiri
Wordcount: 1,500
Summary: “To be clear,” Togami says, “I have no desire to have sex with you.”
It’s a straightforward ultimatum: either Kirigiri admits who she is, abandoning this ridiculous amnesia story, or she gives up the key to her room. Anyone with half a brain would simply confess to their talent.
Togami wasn’t expecting her to hand the key over. She’s nothing more than a fool, it turns out, like all the rest of them.
But this is a problem. Kirigiri is in the rare position of being almost deserving of respect; she’s certainly their greatest asset in the battle against the mastermind, with the natural exception of Togami himself. It would be preferable not to lose her.
They’re forbidden from sleeping outside the dormitories. Without her room key, Kirigiri will end up underslept, less useful, or she will end up dead, punished for a pointless rule violation.
Returning her key would be unthinkable. If Togami retracts his threat, he’ll look weak. But he refuses to simply sit back and take the consequences; what member of his family would ever do that?
There’s a loophole here. They need to sleep in the dormitories, certainly. But not necessarily in their own rooms; Naegi and Maizono are evidence of that.
“So that’s your choice,” Togami says, tucking her key into his pocket. “Fine. You’ll be sleeping in my room, of course, where I can keep an eye on you.”
There are the predictable scandalised exclamations from the ever-present chorus of idiots. But Kirigiri says nothing; she just looks silently back at him.
-
“So,” Kirigiri says, as she closes Togami’s door, “are you nobly going to offer me your bed?”
It’s an outrageous suggestion. “The bed is mine. You’re welcome to sleep on the floor.”
Kirigiri folds her arms. “It’s dangerous to sleep too deeply, wouldn’t you say? Surely you’ve considered the possibility that I might kill you in the night.”
“You won’t,” Togami says. “If you murder me in the room that only you and I have access to, I doubt the trial will be a challenge, even for the supposed fortune teller.”
“Perhaps,” Kirigiri says. “But you will nonetheless be dead. If that’s my primary goal, perhaps I’ll decide it’s worth the consequences.”
“This isn’t going to get you into my bed.”
Kirigiri raises her eyebrows, her expression shifting from irritatingly unreadable to irritatingly amused. Togami loathes her.
“Don’t be revolting,” he says. “That’s not why you’re here.”
She calmly brushes her hair back behind her ear. “I didn’t say anything. You’ll need to clarify.”
“It’s pointless to play ignorant,” Togami says. “You’ve made it clear enough that you have a brain in your skull.”
“Is that a compliment? I suppose I should be honoured.”
Togami crosses his own arms. “It’s simply a fact I’ve observed. Of course, a more intelligent person might conceal their own intelligence to avoid becoming a target.” He’s been keeping an eye on Naegi, trying to work out whether that’s his game.
“That doesn’t seem to be your strategy,” Kirigiri comments.
Togami snorts. “If anyone thinks they can kill me, they’re welcome to try.”
A small smile crosses her face. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“And you? What strategy are you employing?”
Naegi is not a person of any particular worth, but at least he recognises it as the honour it is when Togami asks him a direct question. It means something to have a person of the Togami name take an interest in you. Togami does not distribute his interest freely.
Kirigiri, irritatingly, seems to give it no more consideration than she would a question from anyone else. “Much the same as yours, I suppose. I intend not to die.”
It’s a breathtakingly arrogant declaration from someone who doesn’t even have the Togami blood to back it up. Togami considers her: this slender girl, half a foot shorter than him, who’s standing in a soundproof room with him and thinks he can’t kill her.
He doesn’t intend to kill her, of course. He’s lost interest in the mastermind’s game. But any sensible person would be afraid of him in this situation, and it grates that she isn’t.
There’s something almost inhuman about Kirigiri, her indifference to corpses, her calm confidence in this abnormal situation. It annoys him.
Togami’s family were born to lead humanity; the rest of the rabble here naturally fall under his rule. And Kirigiri? If she’s something not quite human, who rules over her?
It makes him want to bring her to heel. Break that composure, expose her weaknesses. Grab all that excessive hair in his fist and drag her to her knees.
There’s nothing distasteful about the thought, of course, nothing sexual. He just wants the respect that he’s due.
And yet the image feels like it gets trapped somewhere under his skin. He dislikes it; it feels like he’s fantasising, and fantasising is beneath him. Men of the Togami bloodline do not waste their time daydreaming about things they want; they decide what they want, and then they obtain it.
He wants to crack Kirigiri’s composure. And it’s undoubtedly true that it’s difficult to remain composed in a sexual situation.
Togami has no particular interest in sex in itself, but, like any other tool, sometimes it can be useful to achieve a goal.
“I might be persuaded to share the bed,” he says.
There’s something calculating in the quick flicker of Kirigiri’s eyes from his face to the bed. She returns her gaze to his, holds it for a few seconds. “And what would persuade you?”
“To be clear,” Togami says, “I have no desire to have sex with you. Sharing the bed wouldn’t be any sort of payment.” It feels distasteful to say it. “It’s merely what would be simplest on a practical level.”
Something sharpens in Kirigiri’s eyes. “Interesting that you’re proposing it, if you’re so indifferent. I thought you said that wasn’t why I’m here.”
“I thought I would offer it as a favour to you,” Togami says. “A gesture of goodwill, given that I’m holding your room key.”
A pause. “I suppose you’re not used to being told no.”
“Say no if you like,” Togami says. “I have better things to do than pursuing an idiot who can’t recognise a clear opportunity. If I wanted sex, I could have it from anyone here.”
There’s a long silence. Kirigiri’s gaze travels up and down Togami, slowly, like he’s an object she’s considering purchasing. He dislikes it intensely.
“I won’t take your bribe,” she says at last. She begins undoing the knot of her tie. “I’ll sleep on the floor. I’m not doing this for the bed, or for you; I’m doing this because I’m interested in your reactions.”
The same motivation as Togami. He’s furious, suddenly, with this commoner who has the temerity to have so much in common with him.
He seizes her and kisses her, he kisses her like he means it. He could have stopped Fukawa’s heart at any moment by doing the same to her; it would have been the perfect murder for the mastermind’s petty little game.
He’s the only one who gets to be detached, to be calm and analytic in a situation that would make a lesser person shake or squirm. It won’t take more than this to break through Kirigiri’s façade of indifference.
When he breaks away, he’s expecting her to be dazed, to reach out to him for more. All she does is let out a small laugh, barely more than a breath. As if Togami is funny, somehow.
He’s livid; he tears off his own clothes so quickly he almost damages them. He’ll make her gasp, he’ll make her beg. He’s the one in control here, the one above it all. He’s not even going to come.
-
Togami wakes on the floor of his own bedroom.
He doesn’t remember giving up his bed. He doesn’t remember a great deal. He has an unwelcome feeling that he may not have remained as calm and detached as originally planned.
He sits up, slowly, sore from sleeping on the carpet and in other ways he’d prefer not to analyse.
Kirigiri is already awake and dressed, leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. She meets his eyes, with a trace of a smile.
Togami climbs to his feet, wordlessly, and goes to have a shower.
-
They run into Naegi on the way to the cafeteria. The sight of him does not improve Togami’s already suboptimal morning, but he supposes there are worse people.
“Kirigiri-san!” Naegi exclaims. “Are you okay? Did you sleep okay? To...” He casts a nervous glance at Togami. “Togami-kun didn’t do anything weird, did he?”
“He screamed when he came,” Kirigiri says. “I suppose whether that’s ‘weird’ depends on your perspective.”
“He – what?” Naegi asks, jumping half an octave in pitch. He looks rapidly between them. “What? What?”
Togami might have dismissed the mastermind’s game too soon. Apparently he’s going to have to kill Kirigiri after all.
I blame this one on
doreyg, who opened my eyes to the fact that Togami/Kirigiri is not entirely unlike Light/L.Title: Above It All
Fandom: Danganronpa
Rating: 14
Pairing: Togami/Kirigiri
Wordcount: 1,500
Summary: “To be clear,” Togami says, “I have no desire to have sex with you.”
It’s a straightforward ultimatum: either Kirigiri admits who she is, abandoning this ridiculous amnesia story, or she gives up the key to her room. Anyone with half a brain would simply confess to their talent.
Togami wasn’t expecting her to hand the key over. She’s nothing more than a fool, it turns out, like all the rest of them.
But this is a problem. Kirigiri is in the rare position of being almost deserving of respect; she’s certainly their greatest asset in the battle against the mastermind, with the natural exception of Togami himself. It would be preferable not to lose her.
They’re forbidden from sleeping outside the dormitories. Without her room key, Kirigiri will end up underslept, less useful, or she will end up dead, punished for a pointless rule violation.
Returning her key would be unthinkable. If Togami retracts his threat, he’ll look weak. But he refuses to simply sit back and take the consequences; what member of his family would ever do that?
There’s a loophole here. They need to sleep in the dormitories, certainly. But not necessarily in their own rooms; Naegi and Maizono are evidence of that.
“So that’s your choice,” Togami says, tucking her key into his pocket. “Fine. You’ll be sleeping in my room, of course, where I can keep an eye on you.”
There are the predictable scandalised exclamations from the ever-present chorus of idiots. But Kirigiri says nothing; she just looks silently back at him.
“So,” Kirigiri says, as she closes Togami’s door, “are you nobly going to offer me your bed?”
It’s an outrageous suggestion. “The bed is mine. You’re welcome to sleep on the floor.”
Kirigiri folds her arms. “It’s dangerous to sleep too deeply, wouldn’t you say? Surely you’ve considered the possibility that I might kill you in the night.”
“You won’t,” Togami says. “If you murder me in the room that only you and I have access to, I doubt the trial will be a challenge, even for the supposed fortune teller.”
“Perhaps,” Kirigiri says. “But you will nonetheless be dead. If that’s my primary goal, perhaps I’ll decide it’s worth the consequences.”
“This isn’t going to get you into my bed.”
Kirigiri raises her eyebrows, her expression shifting from irritatingly unreadable to irritatingly amused. Togami loathes her.
“Don’t be revolting,” he says. “That’s not why you’re here.”
She calmly brushes her hair back behind her ear. “I didn’t say anything. You’ll need to clarify.”
“It’s pointless to play ignorant,” Togami says. “You’ve made it clear enough that you have a brain in your skull.”
“Is that a compliment? I suppose I should be honoured.”
Togami crosses his own arms. “It’s simply a fact I’ve observed. Of course, a more intelligent person might conceal their own intelligence to avoid becoming a target.” He’s been keeping an eye on Naegi, trying to work out whether that’s his game.
“That doesn’t seem to be your strategy,” Kirigiri comments.
Togami snorts. “If anyone thinks they can kill me, they’re welcome to try.”
A small smile crosses her face. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“And you? What strategy are you employing?”
Naegi is not a person of any particular worth, but at least he recognises it as the honour it is when Togami asks him a direct question. It means something to have a person of the Togami name take an interest in you. Togami does not distribute his interest freely.
Kirigiri, irritatingly, seems to give it no more consideration than she would a question from anyone else. “Much the same as yours, I suppose. I intend not to die.”
It’s a breathtakingly arrogant declaration from someone who doesn’t even have the Togami blood to back it up. Togami considers her: this slender girl, half a foot shorter than him, who’s standing in a soundproof room with him and thinks he can’t kill her.
He doesn’t intend to kill her, of course. He’s lost interest in the mastermind’s game. But any sensible person would be afraid of him in this situation, and it grates that she isn’t.
There’s something almost inhuman about Kirigiri, her indifference to corpses, her calm confidence in this abnormal situation. It annoys him.
Togami’s family were born to lead humanity; the rest of the rabble here naturally fall under his rule. And Kirigiri? If she’s something not quite human, who rules over her?
It makes him want to bring her to heel. Break that composure, expose her weaknesses. Grab all that excessive hair in his fist and drag her to her knees.
There’s nothing distasteful about the thought, of course, nothing sexual. He just wants the respect that he’s due.
And yet the image feels like it gets trapped somewhere under his skin. He dislikes it; it feels like he’s fantasising, and fantasising is beneath him. Men of the Togami bloodline do not waste their time daydreaming about things they want; they decide what they want, and then they obtain it.
He wants to crack Kirigiri’s composure. And it’s undoubtedly true that it’s difficult to remain composed in a sexual situation.
Togami has no particular interest in sex in itself, but, like any other tool, sometimes it can be useful to achieve a goal.
“I might be persuaded to share the bed,” he says.
There’s something calculating in the quick flicker of Kirigiri’s eyes from his face to the bed. She returns her gaze to his, holds it for a few seconds. “And what would persuade you?”
“To be clear,” Togami says, “I have no desire to have sex with you. Sharing the bed wouldn’t be any sort of payment.” It feels distasteful to say it. “It’s merely what would be simplest on a practical level.”
Something sharpens in Kirigiri’s eyes. “Interesting that you’re proposing it, if you’re so indifferent. I thought you said that wasn’t why I’m here.”
“I thought I would offer it as a favour to you,” Togami says. “A gesture of goodwill, given that I’m holding your room key.”
A pause. “I suppose you’re not used to being told no.”
“Say no if you like,” Togami says. “I have better things to do than pursuing an idiot who can’t recognise a clear opportunity. If I wanted sex, I could have it from anyone here.”
There’s a long silence. Kirigiri’s gaze travels up and down Togami, slowly, like he’s an object she’s considering purchasing. He dislikes it intensely.
“I won’t take your bribe,” she says at last. She begins undoing the knot of her tie. “I’ll sleep on the floor. I’m not doing this for the bed, or for you; I’m doing this because I’m interested in your reactions.”
The same motivation as Togami. He’s furious, suddenly, with this commoner who has the temerity to have so much in common with him.
He seizes her and kisses her, he kisses her like he means it. He could have stopped Fukawa’s heart at any moment by doing the same to her; it would have been the perfect murder for the mastermind’s petty little game.
He’s the only one who gets to be detached, to be calm and analytic in a situation that would make a lesser person shake or squirm. It won’t take more than this to break through Kirigiri’s façade of indifference.
When he breaks away, he’s expecting her to be dazed, to reach out to him for more. All she does is let out a small laugh, barely more than a breath. As if Togami is funny, somehow.
He’s livid; he tears off his own clothes so quickly he almost damages them. He’ll make her gasp, he’ll make her beg. He’s the one in control here, the one above it all. He’s not even going to come.
Togami wakes on the floor of his own bedroom.
He doesn’t remember giving up his bed. He doesn’t remember a great deal. He has an unwelcome feeling that he may not have remained as calm and detached as originally planned.
He sits up, slowly, sore from sleeping on the carpet and in other ways he’d prefer not to analyse.
Kirigiri is already awake and dressed, leaning against the wall by the bathroom door. She meets his eyes, with a trace of a smile.
Togami climbs to his feet, wordlessly, and goes to have a shower.
They run into Naegi on the way to the cafeteria. The sight of him does not improve Togami’s already suboptimal morning, but he supposes there are worse people.
“Kirigiri-san!” Naegi exclaims. “Are you okay? Did you sleep okay? To...” He casts a nervous glance at Togami. “Togami-kun didn’t do anything weird, did he?”
“He screamed when he came,” Kirigiri says. “I suppose whether that’s ‘weird’ depends on your perspective.”
“He – what?” Naegi asks, jumping half an octave in pitch. He looks rapidly between them. “What? What?”
Togami might have dismissed the mastermind’s game too soon. Apparently he’s going to have to kill Kirigiri after all.
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