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The sound of metal scratching against metal was grating to Hajime’s ears as he shoved the partially rusted crowbar into a Monokuma’s stomach, pushing down on his end to lift it up and tear open the bear’s head, crushing the program that controlled the robot in the process.
A flash of reflecting light got caught in the corner of his eye and he quickly stepped to the side. Not a second later, a sharp claw embedded itself in the concrete he had been standing on, accompanied by that all too familiar robotic cackling of a Monokuma. Its claw seemed to be stuck in the ground.
Hajime didn’t hesitate in thrusting the crowbar into the bear’s red eye as it moved its head to look at him. Sparks spread from the eye over the robot’s body, paralyzing it before breaking it entirely with a small explosive force. Hajime was almost caught in the blast, but could jump away with the crowbar in his hands at the last second.
Looking up, he made a quick scan of his surroundings.
The street ahead was blocked by a partially collapsed office building, a few dead bodies sticking out from under the rubble. It looked like the Monokumas from that direction had stopped coming. A handful of them were lying in the middle of the street, motionless or roughly taken apart by the crowbar Hajime had picked up earlier.
He turned around to see if Komaeda had been as successful on his end, just in time to see three more Monokumas waddling in his direction. Before he could take even one step toward them, from the corner of his eye, he saw a stone—not any bigger than a small pebble—flying through the air and hitting the Monokuma furthest away from him square in its glowing red eye.
The Monokuma toppled over, crashing into its two companions and pushing them down with it. Hajime wasn’t sure what happened exactly, but the moment both hit the ground, the telltale spark of a Monokuma’s weak spot being hit sent an electrical charge through them.
All three exploded at roughly the same time. He should be surprised…but he really wasn’t. Glancing over in the direction the pebble had been thrown from, he saw Komaeda stepping out of the shadow of a nearby building that was still somewhat standing.
Unsurprisingly, he was throwing and catching a few more pebbles with his mechanical left hand. He took a quick look around the area before focusing on Hajime as soon as he was close enough to be in earshot of him, “Do you think that’s all of them?”
“Seems like it. For now,” Hajime let his gaze wander over any possible Monokuma hiding places, but it all seemed clear now.
Komaeda made his way over to one of the torn open Monokumas that hadn’t been destroyed through the exploitation of their weak spot. He kicked against the useless junk of metal with his foot, stating after a short glance at its insides, “They’re not made by Towa.”
“Well, Souda did say this was part of his area,” Hajime shrugged. “Figures he was playing around with them during that time frame.”
If his senses wouldn’t have been as sharp as someone whose brain got tinkered with, he would’ve missed the way Komaeda’s brow creased the slightest bit and his eyes narrowed down at the broken machine in front of him. His muttering was loud enough to be heard without a genius brain, “That was too easy for Souda-kun’s standards, though.”
Hajime didn’t want to say anything, but he had to agree.
He wasn’t sure what kind of implications that left him with. Thinking about it didn’t seem like a good choice of action, though Komaeda had already beaten him to it and spoke his thoughts out loud, “Do you think they want to get rid of us?”
They being Future Foundation. Sadly, it was not out of the realm of possibilities. Especially since lately, more and more members of the Foundation got told about the survival of the Remnants of Despair. They had to know in order for the ex-remnants to properly help the rebuilding process.
It had mostly been alright in the beginning, but the existing tension was almost tangible by now. It was growing with every new member that got involved. Still, everyone back from the island agreed this was better than to live in isolation with the knowledge of what they had all done to the world.
Doing what they could to help out was the only thing that mattered for the time being. Even if the majority of people working with them threw them one distrustful look after the other.
It was only a matter of time until they would eventually get used to it, so it was fine. They simply had to keep pushing forward.
“We should get going,” Hajime brushed off Komaeda’s question. He took another quick look around before deciding to try the small alleyway that was partially covered with the floor of the collapsed office building. The opening was big enough to walk through.
He didn’t wait for Komaeda to give him any form of affirmation and made his way over, holding onto the rusted crowbar with a tight grip. Having a weapon wasn’t a bad thing when you were stuck in a post-apocalyptic city, searching for unlikely potential signs of survivors.
“I mean, they weren’t very cooperative when giving us this mission,” Komaeda followed him as he was walking through the alley, not giving up on the conversation that he started. Hajime didn’t know why he expected anything else from him. “The area report was really basic, too. And it didn’t say anything about Monokumas walking through the streets, either.”
“This is a rather unexplored area, so it only makes sense,” Hajime tried to refute Komaeda’s argument, but he couldn’t keep his voice from sounding a little tired.
Contrary to that, Komaeda sounded like an excited child on its birthday, “Hinata-kun, we both know they had to fly over this city with a helicopter before granting permission for ground exploration.”
He hated it when Komaeda was just right about things, which was way too often. The fact was that, yes, an air observation had to be done first. They should’ve known about the Monokumas.
“Plus,” Komaeda continued, “the only equipment they gave us is food for two people that can last for four days. It’s a ten days mission. Even if we do find survivors, they won’t survive for long.”
Hajime couldn’t keep himself from letting go of a deep sigh. He was sure if he turned around, the expression on Komaeda’s face that he would find was a big innocent smile. He didn’t want to see it.
Steeling himself for a full-blown argument, Hajime said, “I can’t say you’re entirely wrong about that, but saying they want to get rid of us is a bit much, don’t you think?”
“But it makes sense!” Komaeda had surely thrown his arms up into the air in a spur of emotion, “No one in their right mind would want someone like me to be part of their group, especially when it’s about something as delicate as the restoration of the world’s structure. Everyone knows I’m better at destroying things! And it’s no secret everyone’s scared of the basically god-like formerly called Kamakura Izuru.”
Hajime knew the words were coming, yet he did nothing to stop them. Neither Komaeda’s mention of Kamukura’s status nor his usual self-deprecation. Even though he wanted to prevent both more than anything else.
Komaeda wasn’t finished, “If I were gone, Future Foundation wouldn’t have to worry about their headquarters imploding for no reason just because I had a particularly lucky streak the past few days. And if you were to disappear, they wouldn’t need to fear being outsmarted by someone who can more or less read their thoughts without their consent. Not that either of it works that way.”
Not a lot of people knew about Komaeda’s type of luck—mainly the ones that saw the Killing School Trip broadcast by Enoshima’s AI—but practically everyone knew the kind of roles he played during the Tragedy. Not to mention that he still freaked out every person he talked to for longer than ten minutes.
When it came to Hajime’s case, however…well, the one red eye was usually enough to make anyone who looked at him feel uneasy in his presence. If they knew about the nearly countless talents stored inside his brain, they’d try to avoid him at every chance they got.
They were all scared of the potential things he could do to them, like controlling their decisions and beliefs through a simple conversation. Not to say that he couldn’t do that if he wanted to—oh no, he definitely could—but he wasn’t ever going to. It would give him a headache.
“I’m just saying,” Komaeda was still going, “it’s understandable they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with us. They’d rather have us die alone in this abandoned city, like the worthless garbage we are.”
This started to sound an awful lot like Komaeda’s mindless rambling. Spending as much time with Komaeda as Hajime did had taught him these instances were Komaeda’s most vulnerable moments. Something was hiding behind these words of accusation that didn’t sound like accusations.
Hajime tried to see his words from a different angle, from a different perspective. Instead of thinking about how Future Foundation viewed them, how would Komaeda view them in their place? It wasn’t the Future Foundation that he had to question, it was Komaeda.
He didn’t like the conclusion he came to, but he had to ask anyway, “Do you think they want us to die here or do you want us to die here?”
It was silence that followed. Even Komaeda’s footsteps stopped echoing between the walls of the alley and Hajime had to stop and turn around to make sure he was still there. He was, but his gaze was locked onto the ground, not moving a muscle.
Hajime, not knowing what to do, simply stood there and waited until Komaeda finally looked up again, meeting his gaze and opening his mouth to say…something. The loud clapping of a thunder in the near vicinity drowned out the words Komaeda’s voice was forming.
Without any more of a warning than that, Hajime felt rain already trickling down his face and soaking into his clothes within seconds. Komaeda looked up at the sky, his expression utterly blank.
Hajime didn’t give himself any time to think about his actions as he took a couple of steps forward, grabbed Komaeda by his left hand, and broke out into a full-on sprint down the alleyway to find some cover from the rain.
Komaeda wasn’t resisting, but he wasn’t really running with him, either.
It probably took about five minutes to get to a building that might have been an indoor parking lot based on the handful of cars scattered around and the markings on the floor.
They stopped by a tipped over pillar near the crushed wall they entered through, Komaeda immediately sitting down on top of it with his elbows on his knees as his upper body toppled forward, catching his breath. Hajime was doing perfectly fine, though that was to be expected.
He waited for Komaeda’s breathing to regulate again before sitting down next to him, keeping a reasonable distance between them. The splashing sound of the raindrops hitting the concrete was now the only thing to fill the silence. It was better than nothing, he supposed.
The semi-silence continued for what felt like another ten minutes, but was probably a little less than that. Komaeda broke it with words said in a careful whisper, “I don’t know.”
Hajime’s head snapped over to him, but he had fixed his gaze onto the floor. Slowly, the cold of the rain soaking his clothes was seeping into his bones. It was probably the same for Komaeda, seeing as he began to wrap his arms around himself and started shaking.
Then again, Komaeda was known to do that whenever he had some sort of breakdown, too. He seemed to be more or less in control of himself, though. His words were still nothing more than a whisper, “Maybe a little bit of both?”
Hajime didn’t need to be a genius to know what Komaeda was talking about. He felt his heart crack just a tiny bit at the confirmation.
He could remember a night back on Jabberwock Island, where the sky had been clear and they watched the stars together from the beach. That night, Komaeda had told him he was scared he might die soon. Because he didn’t want to anymore.
It had been months since then and everything was fine, so Hajime hadn’t been worried. He had been quite happy about it, actually. Hearing Komaeda say that had lifted a weight off of his chest.
This was as if the weight had been dropped down again, punching the air out of his lungs. Before Komaeda could say anything else, Hajime beat him to it, “Did you lie to me?”
Komaeda didn’t even hesitate when furiously shaking his head as an answer. He still wasn’t looking at him, though, keeping his eyes on the floor as he spoke, “No. No, I didn’t, but—I’m still not sure if any of us really deserve to life after…everything we’ve done.”
Well, that was something Komaeda had been saying from the beginning. He stopped mentioning it after that conversation he had with Hajime at the beach, but apparently it was still a concern of his. Or maybe the recent tension with Future Foundation caused these thoughts to resurface.
Either way, Hajime could see how Komaeda was close to falling back into that mindset. He could feel the familiar worry begin to fill his heart.
Cautiously, he scooted over in Komaeda’s direction, though not by much. He didn’t want to startle him or anything. It felt as if he was approaching a scared animal, which probably wasn’t that far from the truth, but thinking that seemed a bit mean for some reason.
When Hajime was close enough that he thought he could try and reach out for him, Komaeda spoke up again, making him stop in the middle of his movement.
“I mean—” he paused, “Does anything we do to try and help really matter in the end?” He glanced at Hajime, just from the corner of his eye without moving his head, but his gaze was piercing as it was questioning—and maybe a bit scared, too.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I’m not doubting everyone’s abilities or anything. Their talents are all useful right now, except mine. But… I just… I don’t know. I feel like there’s nothing I can do.”
Hajime took a moment to think it over, “Komaeda, you’re helping right now. You’re not doing nothing.”
“I know, but—” he interrupted himself, shutting his mouth with a clatter of his teeth. He turned his head, away from Hajime, muttering under his breath but still loud enough to hear, “You told me to always question and think about what I’m doing.”
The air got stuck in Hajime’s throat for a brief second. He remembered giving Komaeda that particular piece of advice. It was because of his dementia, and it actually seemed to help him hold back his compulsive behavior for the majority of time that had passed since then.
To be honest, he didn’t think about how it could affect Komaeda in these circumstances. Granted, he didn’t think he’d listen to his words for so long, either. Hajime dropped his hand that had been reaching for Komaeda, unsure of what to do.
Komaeda seemed to take it as a sign to continue, “I don’t know if I should be questioning myself in this situation, too, or not. But I do. And I don’t see how I could be of help to anyone.”
The rain was still falling, the sound of thunder in the distance.
A few minutes passed, carrying their silence. Hajime didn’t know what to do other than to stare at Komaeda, who was still facing away from him.
He wanted to say something, but the only words he could think of were a repeat of the speeches he used to give to all of them—that they had to try and move forward to create their own future. He could always try saying that again, but it didn’t quite feel like the right moment for that.
Something in the back of his mind decided to remind him he could just use one of the many talents he had now to easily find the right words with the blink of an eye, but he immediately rejected that idea. Komaeda deserved more than some calculated words. At least when he was talking to him as a friend.
The only other idea he had was to simply say whatever came to mind and, more or less, let his heart do the talking…on second thought, that sounded incredibly embarrassing.
…whatever.
To keep the embarrassment as low as possible, Hajime looked away, at the rain that was pouring down outside the parking lot, and started talking, “You know…that’s fine. Having doubts about this is fine. I’m sure everyone does. We destroyed this world, so who’s to say we can do anything other than that? We’re all just normal people at the end of the day.”
He said that, but he honestly thought he was more talking about himself right now than anyone else. It didn’t really boost the confidence he managed to put into his words, more like decrease it, but he had to keep going.
“Sometimes, it’s hard to push forward, or to keep yourself from burning out, or to prevent any temptation of giving up to control your thoughts.” He hated how much these words were true for him, too. He was supposed to be their leader—for lack of a better term. He couldn’t be weak like that. Weak like the talentless Reserve Course student he still was deep down.
He pushed the thought away, ignored it, pretended it wasn’t there.
He did his best to keep it all out of his voice, “But it’s all for a big thing like restoring the world. Every bit counts. And you don’t have to deal with the guilt and doubt alone, Komaeda. Make sure you’re in the right condition to keep going before you try to do so, alright?”
There. That didn’t sound half bad, did it?
Hajime turned his head over to Komaeda, only to be met with his grey-green eyes looking back at him. It caught him off-guard, made his heart jump up into his throat. He wasn’t that close…but still close. Hajime wanted to back away and lean further in at the same time.
The softness in Komaeda’s eyes prevented him from doing anything at all.
“You, too,” Komaeda’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back into reality. It was surprisingly calm. As if he had been prepared to say that, which was only emphasized by the small smile he gave him. “Everything you said, the same goes for you, too, Hinata-kun. Don’t forget that.”
Hajime could do nothing but stupidly blink at him, the words echoing in his ears as his brain was processing them and what they meant. He still hated it when Komaeda was just right about things.
He didn’t know what to say. He wondered if this was what Komaeda had wanted to get out of this conversation from the very beginning, though at this point, it was pretty obvious that the answer for that would be yes. Of course, it would be. And, of course, Komaeda would be the one to see right through the wall he tried to put up every single day for everyone else’s sake.
Why did he even try to hide it from him? He felt stupid now.
As if he could read his thoughts, Komaeda’s smile seemed to widen just the tiniest bit. He reached out and took Hajime’s hand in his own—in his right hand, the one that wasn’t metal—and said, “It’s okay. We’ll work on it.”
That was the same thing Hajime used to tell Komaeda back on the island, when he was still unstable most of the time. It was the exact same thing.
Hajime couldn’t hold back a puff of air mixed with a chuckle, bringing an involuntary smile to his lips. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and muttered, “I hate you, Komaeda.”
Komaeda simply continued to smile.
Hajime squeezed his hand, his heart jumping up and down when the action was reciprocated. He didn’t want to let go for the rest of this mission.