Chapter Text
God bless whoever created hot showers, thought Hajime with a sigh. He had just finished his first shower since who knows when,and was drying his hair on his bed.
Ruffling the slightly grey towel through his hair, he paused before getting up and walking over to the desk pushed into the corner of his room. A mess of documents, notes, and empty mugs were strewn across the flat surface, accentuated with a singular desk lamp, which he flicked on before sitting at the folding chair.
-Establish connection to Future Foundation. Check.
-Creating a place to live on Jabberwock Island. Halfway there, they had food and electricity in one building at least.
-Awakening and rehabilitating their sleeping classmates. Reading over this, he hesitated, throwing the towel to some corner of the room, before reading the line over again.
..They had yet to do that.
The shipments from the foundation were scheduled to arrive every two weeks, the next shipment being scheduled for tomorrow. They had a fairly stable food source, the only issue was the action of actually waking up the others.
A frustrated sigh escaped Hajime’s mouth. Familiar thoughts began to circle in his head again, about how he had strived so hard to become something and now-
With a loud screech, he abruptly stood up and knocked over the chair with an even louder crash.
Marching out of his room, Hajime Hinata was determined to wake at least one person up.
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Based on all the information he had collected from both the research documents and his own deductions, he had somewhat figured out how to wake up each sleeping person.
Firstly, he would need to deactivate the world the person was showing on the monitors.
The next step was disconnecting the consciousness from the program and returning it to the pod occupants own body.
Lastly, he’d have to detach all of the tubes attached to their bodies, the ones meant to pump some sort of food into the occupants, to clean up any waste and to regulate oxygen flow within the narrow space.
Out of all of the steps, although they were simplified, the second seemed the most risky. Sure, it was easy enough to turn off the program and to detach the tubes, (to him at least) but the human consciousness, that even Izuru, in all his genius, remained fairly mysterious. Not to mention transferring the consciousness to each person- god he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he mixed them up somehow.
Luckily, Makoto had mentioned an AI who would be more than willing to help them, by the name of Alter Ego, created by one of his old classmates.
Seeing as Alter Egos' creator had been the one to create the Neo World program to begin with, he could only hope the AI would know how to safely wake up those within it.
It was worth a shot, at least.
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The five survivors of the 77th’s class killing game waited on the dock. Three ships were coming into the harbor, loaded to the brim with supplies and the occasional Future Foundation employee.
When the ships had come to a full stop, a person stumbled off of the ship closest to them and broke into a light jog, stopping in front of Hajime.
“Naegi?” Makoto held a finger up, breathing heavily before responding.
“Hajime!” He reached out and grabbed Hajime’s hand, turning to the others with similar interactions.
The shorter man gave a determined smile up at Hajime in all of his 5’3 glory, not even seeming bothered by the significant height difference.
“Here's the drive I promised you, all you have to do is stick it into a monitor and follow the instructions I gave you, as discussed.” He handed Hajime a small red usb drive, with the simple label of “Alter Ego” on the outside.
Pocketing the drive, the group followed Makoto back to the ship.
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Makoto gave the five a small tour, pointing out the crates for them and introducing some of the crew members, such as the captain, an intimidating woman who went by the name of Aiko.
At one point, he was called to review something, dashing off but not before telling the others to stay where they were.
“..So, what do you think?” Hajime spoke up, breaking the silence. He was met with a few blinks before the others responded.
“First off, have you seen this ship?! Holy shit dude! I know I know, ships aren’t really my thing, but I mean, anyone can appreciate how well put together this thing is!!” Kazuichi spoke up first, running his hand appreciatively over the railing.
“..Putting aside the idiot's opinion, I think it's pretty well off so far. The organization of the supplies is well done, we won't have to shuffle through them for one thing. The ship..” Fuyuhiko hesitated, glancing at ‘the idiot’ “..seems to be in good condition, to make it all the way here.” Sonia nodded at this, before adding on.
“It truly is a wonder to be able to make it through the water! Back in Novoselic, we had a whole fleet of army ships, the most impressive in the region at that!” Her expression turned slightly wistful, reminiscing on her old kingdom.
See, the problem wasn’t the ships. It was the water. Even before the tragedy, the oceans were polluted and dying, something that only got worse during the tragedy. Bodies and garbage always seemed to find its way to the water, and the cleanliness of the oceans got even worse when showers of acid rain began pouring down upon the earth.
The ship making its way through polluted oceans just to get to the five of them was something incredible.
Their small discussion continued, only to be interrupted by the reappearance of Makoto, however this time he had brought along none other than Kyoko Kirigiri.
She was shorter than he had expected, everyone with the exception of Fuyuhiko being at least somewhat taller than her. However she did not require height to be just as intimidating as she appeared on screen.
Making their way to a private room, the seven of them sat down at a round table, Makoto hastily clearing off empty plates and cups, piling them into the small sink in the corner of the room.
Scanning over the room, it seemed to be a shared dorm, presumably between Makoto and Kyoko. Half of it was pristine, the only flaw, (if it could even be called that) was an empty coffee mug placed on the bedside table. The other half was slightly more unkempt, the bed clumsily made with a few clothes strewn across the headboard. Hajime could tell who lived on either side, something that briefly amused him, however he was called back to attention by gloved fingers snapping in his face.
Blinking, he registered Kyoko in front of him. She muttered a quiet apology, about how he had looked out of it. Giving her a brief nod, he tuned back into Makoto’s enthusiastic...lecture? The younger man seemed to be praising the others for how they’d done on the island so far, while also reprimanding them about how careful they needed to be with all medical supplies and food.
It was quite entertaining, seeing that Makoto was younger than them, but he was the one lecturing his seniors, instead of the reverse.
He was slightly caught off guard when Makoto abruptly turned to him, changing the topic so fast he nearly got whiplash.
Kyoko gave him a small smile out of the corner of his eye, before turning to give her full attention to Makoto.
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A warm wind blew through the deserted city. Piles of trash flicked upwards and lighter pieces were taken by the breeze. Clothing fluttered off of unmoving wearers.
Izurus hair was unfortunately light enough that the breeze would blow it around his head and leave annoying tangles that he would have to brush out.
However, since the last time that happened, he had learned how to predict wind currents with deadly accuracy, honing that particular ability.
So, his hair had been tied back with the help of a tie he had taken from the nearest department store. Komaeda had assisted; he seemed to hold particular affection for Izurus long black hair.
Hair tied back in a low ponytail, Izuru sat on the edge of a two story building, an old pizzeria if the nearly ripped off sign was correct.
He was watching one of the massive monitors that had been fixed to the top of a truck drive around the city, before parking in the city hall.
Red eyes watched as the driver, a young man with curly blonde hair, stepped out of the truck and promptly dashed in front of the rapidly approaching crowd.
His left eye gave a small twitch, watching the man get trampled by the mob.
The appearance of the mob was not entirely surprising. Practically everyone lived for Junko Enoshima's broadcasting of the killing game of Hope's Peak Academy’s 78th class.
Die hard fans were known to even kill others with their bare hands for a front row seat to the monitor.
How utterly predictable.
How boring.
Gaze unfaltering, he observed the reactions of the crowd to the most recent execution, this time of Celestia Ludenberg, the Ultimate Gambler.
Her execution did not phase him, he had already seen the trial with Komaeda the night before.
A spark of shock ran through his veins, lighting him up from inside as he spotted two wonderfully unpredictable elements approaching the crowd as Miss Ludenbergs execution came to a close.
This time it seemed to be two young women, one with a brightly colored head of hair, pinks and blues mixed with white running down her back. The other was a slightly taller woman, with choppy purple hair and in a nurses outfit, clutching a portable box he assumed to be filled with medical supplies.
“Oh how surprising! I didn’t think Mioda and Tsumiki would make it here so soon.. although I shouldn’t underestimate the determination of Ultimates.” Komaeda piped up from Izuru’s left. At some point the other man had joined him, something Izuru faintly registered but failed to call attention to.
Komaeda seemed to want to continue, but a loud noise from the hall they were observing cut him off. It was the noise of an electric guitar, amplified with the help of several sets of speakers.
In the short time they had looked away, Mioda had climbed on top of the truck, and with the help of Tsumiki, had gotten crowd members to set up the speakers.
Although they were a few blocks away, the sound was still ear-splitting. Wincing, the pale boy to his left placed both hands over his ears.
Izuru stood up on the ledge, and to Komaedas shock, took a running start off the roof and onto the next building.
Stumbling down the stairs, Komaeda ran out into the street to follow Izuru, who was hopping from building to building like some sort of long-haired Peter Parker.
By the time they were closer to the hall, Komaeda had collapsed against the nearest stairway, his poor condition catching up on him. Izuru, ever observant, climbed down the building and carried Komaeda up to the roof with him to watch.
He wasn’t sure why.
No matter, the performance was starting.
Tsumiki was walking through the crowd, seemingly administering injections to those who seemed the least interested. One man put up a struggle, attempting to get away from her. Mioda noticed this as she continued to get ready for the performance, but stopped when Mikan killed the man with the sharp swipe of a scalpel, splitting open his jugular. He collapsed, spraying blood all on those around him. Giggling, Tsumiki bent down and gave him a shot, sticking a heart shaped plaster over the small wound, giving it a small kiss before moving over to the sidelines.
He wasn’t sure what to make of her actions.
Logically, she was the most dangerous, the most similar to Junko. She was the most corrupted out of the 15 students who had lived to become Remnants of Despair.
Hm.
His thoughts were interrupted when Mioda began. The noises coming out of the speakers could only be described as hellish, sounding similar to 35 simultaneous car crashes mixed with nails on a blackboard. Her singing added to the chaos, she sang with a loud pleasant voice, which turned screeching and ear-bleeding to match the music.
Background music played from who knows where as she continued to shred the strings of her electric guitar, which was black and armed with potentially lethal spikes.
Komaeda had regained the ability to breath, and was covering his ears with his hands, face screwed up in pain.
Izuru couldn’t blame him. Even for someone such as himself, the music was, simply put, awful. It was pleasant enough if you enjoyed heavy metal, however there were thick undercurrents of despair running through the entire venue.
Looking at the crowd, he could see their ears were quite literally bleeding. However they continued to cheer and scream praise, even throwing possessions at the stage in support of Mioda.
On the sidelines, Tsumiki was singing along, clapping her hands and smiling. She was still drenched in blood, staining her white uniform.
As the song reached its peak, the screaming of the audience only got louder. To anyone else, they could have been screaming in pain from the copious amounts of blood leaking from their burst eardrums.
Izuru knew they were screaming out of pure joy , out of support for the performance.
When the song ended, it seemed to relax, however seeing as the Remnants were unable to travel anywhere without leaving behind fresh corpses, Mioda gave one last strum on her guitar, and with that shrieking noise, the entire audience collapsed.
Blood pooled around the bodies, seeping into the cracks of the sidewalk.
Izuru sighed. More deaths from burst lungs. They were the musicians specialty, using the air pressure of her music to burst the lungs of the audience, or if they were lucky enough, they would die from an air embolism traveling to their heart.
Wading through the crowd, Mioda received the massive hug Tsumiki gave, smiling. It would have been a sweet moment, if they both weren’t soaked in blood.
Removing his hands from Komaedas ears, (when did they get there?), he turned away from the scene, beginning to walk towards the stairs. A loud screech coupled with the noises of other people made him hesitate.
Looking back over the ledge, he was greeted with the sight of a black and white van parked near the venue. A red haired girl- Koizumi, had stepped out and was capturing the gore with her camera. A small chill ran through him when he recognized the other two with her.
There wasn’t much that could unnerve Izuru, but these two made it on the list. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu and Peko Pekoyama were with her, taking in the scene. They were known as the most dangerous Remnants, you run into them and it's over. Fuyuhiko had legions of yakuza members at his calling, and Peko was a weapon in her own right, killing anyone who got in her and Kuzuryu’s way.
Komaeda’s eyes widened in shock and he stumbled away from the ledge, tugging at Izuru for them to get away . Complying, the two dashed down the stairs and far far away from the city hall.
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Booting up the computer, Hajime waited for the login screen. He typed in the password and the desktop background appeared. Okay. Here goes nothing.
Pulling the harddrive out of his pocket, he leaned to the side and plugged it into the computer.
A moment of nothing. Then, a green window appeared on screen. It read as “-ALTER EGO-”, with a simple icon of a two faced human behind.
He clicked on the start option and waited, before a face appeared on screen. Startled, he froze. The face was scarily realistic, looking just like that famous programmer. Ah, this must have been the friend. Hajime religiously scanned the list of each student every year, so this must be an AI of Chihiro Fujisaki, another student from class 78. He had been killed in the second trial of the killing game by Mondo Oowada.
Makoto had told him to introduce himself, which he did, albeit a bit awkwardly. The AI smiled and responded with enthusiasm, introducing themself.
Okay. He could work with this.
Shifting in his chair, Hajime asked another question to the monitor.
-Can you wake up those in the program?
The AI nodded.
-Yes! The program was designed so that those inside could easily wake up when needed!
A sigh of relief. Hesitation when doubt set in.
-What about those who died within the program? Will they be able to wake up?
There was a pause before the response came through.
-Yes! The process is slightly more complicated, however it is possible.
-When can we begin?
He eagerly waited for another response.
-We will be able to begin whenever! In fact, I can start the first step right now if that is desired. However, it is only possible to safely wake one person up at a time. Would you like to select someone?
A choked noise escaped Hajime’s throat. Now?? He could see them now? Tears welled up in his eyes. He hadn’t realized how badly he had missed them, even Saionji was charming in her own way. Tears spilled down his face. This was so much at once but for once he welcomed it, he welcomed the overflowing emotions, the overflowing happiness at this.
Sniffling, he wiped his nose on the blue sweater Fuyuhiko had knit for him, (who knew a yakuza heir could knit?) and replied.
-Anyone is fine. Thank you very much.
The AI looked touched by this, as touched as a computer program could get. With a smile and a nod, the program’s text box closed as the awakening process began.
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Kazuichi was getting a lecture from Sonia and Fuyuhiko about proper hygiene, seeing as he had shown up to dinner smelling like car oil and covered in grease yet again.
Chewing on his braid, he realized there was one member of their small group missing. He was getting lectured by two, Akane was eating a burrito.. that’s four.
“Hey,” he spoke up, interrupting the two blondes, who looked offended that he dare to speak during their scheduled “Lets bully Souda” time, but there were more important issues at hand. “Where’s Hajime?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the dining room door was ripped open by the aforementioned man. Startled, Akane dropped her burrito into her bean soup. “H-” Souda started, before being cut off.
“We can wake them up.”
The words had an immediate effect on the other four. Akane, who had been trying to dry off her burrito dropped it back into the soup, Sonia had covered her mouth in shock and Fuyuhiko had frozen in his wiping down of Kazuichi’s grease covered hands. Kazuichi’s braid fell out of his mouth as his jaw dropped.
“WHAT?!”
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