"Are you avoiding me?" Byakuya's voice cuts right through you as he pops out all of a sudden, his imposing figure blocking your way in the enormous hallway of the Hope's Peak Academy, decorated the same yet now deserted.

Group polarization, conflicts, loss of individuality, among others, are all the inevitable products of social isolation of a small party. You took a conscious, voluntary decision to be segregated along with your 16 classmates for the sake of standing as symbols of hope in the uprising havoc. As it's well known, it would be nearly impossible to find a neutral, common teenager, with the exception of the Ultimate Lucky students, who are merely a few. The assignment is truly incredible, as the differences between everyone are sticking out a mile. There's no doubt it was meant to bring various talents closer together and cooperate for the sake of peace and progress; nevertheless, the current situation was caused by a worldwide sabotage that couldn't be predicted, just like any other, and this was exacerbated to the extreme. Classroom coexistence is one thing—but surviving in one building with no sign of the exterior world is another.

Interestingly, a factor that wasn't mentioned is dependency and attachment distortions. Bonding forms a part of survival in human nature. Regardless, it didn't affect Byakuya aside from Toko's maniacal fixation. His infancy is a battle arena, absent of the fairytails to soothe the undeveloped psyche. On the contrary, he was lectured that trust and affection are weaknesses.

No amount of clicker training can ever fully reshape a person. Once your brain is shaped in one way or another, it will be nearly impossible to affect it. This is its mechanism. Many people tend to forget about its core, hidden under the dents and bruises.

Love. In reality, it isn't a picture out of a pretty movie: it's merely a neural deactivation and a strong cocktail of neurochemicals. Younglings refer to it as 'crush'. So, Byakuya was hit with a crush.

He was taught how to woo women, the pure laws of courtesy that a man of his status should know out of obligation. He was never interested in romance, since, in his life, only the idea of an arranged marriage existed, pragmatic and dry. Nonetheless, his chest is encircled with thorns each time he sees you. Were they hormones? The lack of human contact? Platonic admiration? He assumes his sanity is slipping from his grasp at the speed of a rollercoaster, but he was never quite normal. Your problem is that now you're stuck, limited not solely by the walls, yet also by his dictatorial nature.

"Tch. That would be rather foolish of you." He scoffs, shaking his head before it jerks up in the arrogant manner of his. "Listen closely. You have the honor of spending time with me."

A pause. Was it a way to invite you on a 'hangout'?

"Decide. And don't make me repeat myself. You should be grateful for my presence."