Chapter Text
She was talking again, he noted, as he followed her up the stairs of the dilapidated building. Izuru didn’t often pay attention to what she said, but it was surely something about the despair she felt as they traversed the steps of the dilapidated building. The whirlwind that was Junko Enoshima hit this city far quicker than anyone living there had expected, and the remaning inhabitants now busied themselves mostly with theft, murder, and other atrocious acts. The only sights to see were blood red skies and rubble for miles around- the only smell fire, flesh, or boiling blood. Now though, as the end of the staircase came into view, The younger despair sister’s laughter could be heard echoing against the walls of the building. Izuru watched her with a disinterested look. It was as though she was taking energy from the chaos descending upon the city, and it showed on her face in wide smiles and wild looks. Not far behind them, Mukuro pulled herself onto the roof before beginning to set a tripwire on the top step. As Izuru watched her hands move, Junko’s high-pitched squeal caught his attention.
“Kamukura!” She ran up to him and grabbed his hand before leading him over to the edge of the building. “Check out this vista of despair! Isn’t it just fantastic!?” Rather than answer with words, he simply nodded before pulling his hand away. He wouldn’t have called it beauty, but it certainly was interesting, and it was just an unpredictable as she had promised. It struck him as downright fascinating how quickly the denizens of the city turned on each other when exposed to a crisis such as this- though of course, he had expected that outcome. What he didn’t expect was how quickly they turned to killing, the brutal methods they employed, and even how much they seemed to enjoy it. In this sense, despair seemed to leave behind a miasma of entropy wherever it went, turning otherwise regular people into violent snarling beasts.
Interesting. Worth leaving his room at Hope’s Peak for, at the very least.
Junko must have seen the introspection on his face, because she threw him another toothy grin and poked a finger between the buttons of his dress shirt.
“Come on pretty boy, I know you see it too~” The cadence of her voice had shifted from what she considered cute into something far more sultry and dangerous. “I got you out of that stuffy room to see the way the world can really be. Don’t I at least get a thank you?” Her free hand left his buttons alone, opting to roam around his clothed chest.
“Get off of me.” Came his even voice, and he stepped backwards away from her touch. Junko whined something about him being “no fun at all” before opting to swing her legs over the edge of the building and admire the scenery. Not too far away, Mukuro's murderous gaze fell on him, strong enough that he could feel it without meeting her eyes. The Ultimate Soldier held her firearm at the ready incase someone were to ambush them, but he had a feeling she would rather put a bullet in his back instead. Izuru didn’t understand what caused her to have such animosity towards him- actually he did, it was jealousy- but she didn’t say anything to him about his actions. With a sigh of boredom, Izuru leaned against a nearby pillar and stuck his hands in his pockets.
Oh. There was something in his right pocket.
It was a small metal object, and he knew what it was before he even pulled it out to look at it. Just brushing the smooth surface of it brought him instantly back to the despair Junko wrought upon class 77-B. More fascinating than despair itself was the way it transferred to others like a disease, and seeing them all succumb so quickly as a result of a single execution seemed to drive home how unpredictable it really was. Despair was far more effective than he had expected based on Junko’s vague explanation, but as he mulled it over once again, he couldn’t tear his mind off of the girl that had been killed to unleash those Ultimate Despairs upon the world. He didn’t remember a thing about her, and yet the very thought of her brought a dread that couldn’t be shaken. Regrettably, he didn’t even have a name to put to her face, since she hadn’t given him hers before she died. However, looking back on her battered body lying broken on the floor, blood leaking out like an overfilled sponge- those thoughts came with a painful tug in his chest every time they passed his mind. As he continued to gaze over the crimson skies and filthy streets, he toyed with the object again before bringing it out of his pocket. It was a hairclip, that much he knew at a glance. He didn’t recognize the shape, but looking at the clip caused that awful tugging to make its home in his chest once again. Remembering the girl’s watering eyes as she lamented her own death caused his own eyes to water in turn. Izuru exhaled as the scene once again ran through his mind. He remembered the way she had reached out for him so desperately, and he recalled fighting the impulse to reach out and take her quivering hand.
Idly, he raised one of his suit sleeves to dry his eyes before returning the pin to his pocket. He hadn’t caught all of them, and a few errant tears landed inaudibly on the dusty rooftop, but he had done well enough, and his troubled expression returned to normal before either of the despair sisters noticed anything was wrong with him at all. Another quiet exhale left his lips. What would that girl think of this new world now, if she could see it? The death and destruction? The absence of all hope, stolen out from under the entire world in one deft motion? And what would she think of him, who had helped Junko to start it all? If she’d lived a bit longer, what would she say to the Ultimate Hope who had brought the Ultimate Despair to everyone she had held dear?
From the edge of the building, Junko’s shouting about “Getting a move on from this place” began to grate on his ears. With a little cough to dislodge the remaining discomfort in his chest, Izuru wordlessly made his way towards the staircase once again. He supposed he would never know.