Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August 2023

 “Sorry if the room’s a little empty, I haven’t been here long. I hope that won’t be a problem.” Hajime lands his notepad on his lap. He reads the nervous guest, whose eyes flitter everywhere in the office but in front. The youth’s name was Armand Muller, the first Super High School Level Good Luck since Hope’s Peak Academy’s reopening. For inclusion’s sake, the lottery had been extended internationally.

“I-I didn’t mean to be rude.” The curt boy’s gaze lingers on Hajime’s lone red eye…

His Japanese isn’t the best, but there’s practice.

The counselor holds up a pacifying hand, “I speak German.”  He changed speech channels.

“Have you been to my homeland?” Armand lit up, replying in his native language.

“I have, once. Around 11 or so years ago.”

“You’re very fluent, like you were born there...”

“It’s a talent of mine. Now…this’ll be our first meeting. If you’ve got concerns, lay it on me.” Hajime says, casually.

 “N-Nothing I say leaves this room?”

 “It’s rare that it would. I’m the only one who needs to know and not a peep would reach the staff.” Often if Hajime couldn’t do anything about the problem, few else could.

Armand fumbles his finger and speaks hesitantly. “I’m having trouble sleeping at night.” A foot in the door. He waits patiently for the boy to continue. “I get nightmares…about my parents. My real parents.”

Hajime’s pen zips on the page.

“How are you acclimating to Japan? Are the custodians treating you well? Any friends?”

“T-They’re all welcoming. Not counting when my classmates make fun of my accent.” The rest comes out lower. “I’m lucky to be here at all, really.”

“Even so, anyone would get lonely out here by themselves.” Hajime presses.

Armand is silent for a time. “I have to make something of myself in this academy. I’m ashamed coming here so quickly. It’s not like I’m the only one with a setback. Most of my friends lost at least one person they cared about.”

“Don’t hold yourself to their standards. It just makes you feel inadequate, and perceptions don’t always match reality.” Hajime sternly interjects.

Armand nods slowly.

“Tell me more about these nightmares. About your parents.”

“It’s not only them,” Armand corrects. Wearily, he adds “my older sister’s there too. And my dog. Sometimes my friends appear.

My old teachers.

 My schoolmates.

My neighbourhood…

February 2013

The world begins with ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

The shadow rides the elevators of the once bustling halls of Hope’s Peak Academy. He ponders if seeing his birthplace reduced to desolation would evoke ‘something’ within him. He couldn’t give it words. If the feeling could be described, that meant he already ‘knew’ it. That would be boring.

Perhaps it was a futile exercise. By all accounts, Izuru Kamukura didn’t have emotions.

Within a few steps, Izuru stumbles onto a parody of a courtroom. Sixteen podiums are stationed in a circle. The floors remind Izuru of a chessboard; symbolic for the mastermind predicting the players’ like chess pieces? No. ▇▇▇▇▇ avoids conventions. He postulates the layout of the room was her obsession over the dualism of black and white. 

Izuru stops at the entranceway. His fingers brush against the red curtains hanging on the sides. “Cheap.”

The mastermind hears clear as day. “‘Everyone’s a critic’ - is what we’d love to say, but alas we must agree.” A royal crown adorns strawberry pink locks. “I should’ve ordered the expensive materials before ending the world and putting textile industries out of business.” She speaks of her feat as a trivial accomplishment.

“Not what I had in mind for my magnum opus.”

“Your irritation stems from an attachment to your false talent.” It was a question, but he’d get more of a reaction phrasing it as if he knew.

For an all-too brief period, ▇▇▇▇▇ holds her tongue. A rarity, proven by how it doesn’t last.

She grins. Certainly. A smile is too benign a gesture for this voracious woman – not unlike an animal that would sink its teeth into you without reason or provocation. “What’re you doing here, senpai? Wanna see the executions? Kaz outdid himself this time…or could it be you’re here for little old me? Too bad! I’m already spoken for.” Her movements and wild exaggerations are…distinctly less than perfect. She tries to hide it, but Izuru can see the fatigue slipping through her performance.

“I’m here for a status report. Is the killing game proceeding on schedule?”

“That’s all?” She twirls a stand of her hair between her fingers. “Yeah. The broadcast will start in a few days. Afterwards, the whole country gets to see the bloodbath, then those future foundation flunkies are toast.”

Before he replied to that oddly unenthusiastic response, twin cries erupt. Izuru’s gaze shifts from ▇▇▇▇▇ to the front and center podium.

Izuru’s eyes widen infinitesimally as he identifies a boy and a girl wrapped in small blankets. He angles his head backwards.

▇▇▇▇▇ hides her arms behind her back. Those vacant eyes peers at him with inscrutable intent. Her lips, spread too thinly to register a smile, yet far from sullen.

What is that expression?

The pair’s cries call him back. A boy with dark-purple hair and a girl with blue. The former’s arms stretch outwards.

The despair moves his index finger forward. Tiny hands clasp against the digit. No sooner do coos bubble from the girl’s lips.

Odd pair, but given genetics, it can’t be helped.

“What are their names?”

“They don’t have any.” The Cheshire grin tells him more than hours of dialogue could. He understands, In part. Never the whole.

…

“Your depravity is boundless…” His tone rings an off beat.

“You wound me.” ▇▇▇▇▇  guards her chest like he’d shot her in the heart. A tempting thought Izuru’d had too many times. Even now. But he would never act on it. This girl was special, possessing the same crippling talent, yet was not crippled, as he was. 

“That was praise.” He replied. What can you see that I can’t? – Izuru sought an answer to the question he could never voice. It was a matter of pride and principle. Until he discovered the answer for himself, ▇▇▇▇▇ could not be allowed to die.

“Even if you lose, there’s a contingency plan – one you have no way of overseeing. No, it’s only because you can’t supervise that possibility, that it’s worthwhile.” It was as they first met. While he drowned in the black sea of tedium, ▇▇▇▇▇ alone illuminated his world, staining his eyes with fanaticism.

 Indeed, he had come all this way for her. “Will you win?” The words are rhetorical. She held every possible advantage.

No matter what, my friends will kill each other. What I’m worried about is how interesting they can make the game.” She plays with her manicured nails.

“…You consider them your friends?”

▇▇▇▇▇  knitted her brows. “Uh yeah. Why else would I go through all this trouble-…” She breaks into a dastardly sneer. “Hmm…don’t tell me, even after what happened to Chiaki, you still don’t get it~”

“Don’t speak her name.” Izuru glowered at her condescension. Only affected because she was right. The two of them were like comrades in a highly specific and unique field. But she was ahead of him. For now.

…

 Izuru glances at the children “Just in case, I will have to erase my memories of this event as well.”

“Always so thorough. But I getcha. Why ruin a surprise by knowing beforehand?” ▇▇▇▇▇ said.

Izuru nods once. “Til we meet again.”

Once more, ▇▇▇▇▇ stares expectantly, but Izuru had spoken everything he needed to. As the SHSL analysts, most of what needed to be said could be exchanged without words. That was the nature of their relationship.

The SHSL Hope turns his back and treks back the way he came. He slows when passing the entranceway, hindered by the temptation to look back at his benefactor.

Just then, a figure approaches. ▇▇▇▇▇ wasn’t the only one awake in the school. The older of the despair twins passes him by. He had never spoken more than a sentence to Mukuro Ikusaba; an accessory to her sister. There was a new element. One that made her worth judging.

Izuru spied the bottle of milk in her hand.

“Do you care about those children?” Izuru asked.

The soldier twists her body back staring at him with a mix of confusion, surprise and vitriol. Confusion in that she perceives his question on a surface level of understanding, surprise that he would acknowledge her or them, and hatred for him. “They’re family.”

And that gives them worth, he presumes. “Then you’d protect them, as you do your sister?”

“Yes.”

“From your sister?”

 Her response time lowers by several seconds. “▇▇▇▇▇ wouldn’t hurt them. They’re not like the others.”

The 'others' she considers dear friends? “You should hope that’s true.” For your sake as much as their own.

Children’s cries reach the hallways. Mukuro spins and walks at a faster pace to the courtroom.

Izuru follows at a distance. He goes as far as the edge of the entrance and observes from the shadows. Mukuro nervously carries the twins in her slender arms. “There, there. I brought your milk.” She winces when they tug at her hair.

▇▇▇▇▇ slaps her forehead at the sister’s awkward attempts at pacifying the nameless newborns.

The sight leaves Izuru…perplexed, unable to identify the source of a minute, indescribable feeling.

Izuru reaches into his pocket for a pixel-themed hairclip – A memento of an important person he never knew.

March 2013

The killing game was over, and ▇▇▇▇▇ lost. Izuru’s predictions first slipped at the end of the fifth trial, when Makoto Naegi survived a botched execution. The scales shifted, tipping towards the survivors with every deduction made in the final trial.

Izuru forever committed Her execution(s) to memory. Even in death, she dealt one last blow to her…friends; refusing a chance at redemption.

He would have been impressed by her fortitude. He would have been irritated by the background noise, raving about the loss of their goddess. Izuru saw one step further and– in a rare show of awe – was at a loss in the face of one mystifying fact:

▇▇▇▇▇  ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ died and the world did not end with her.

July 2021

“Look over here, Hajime.”

Heterochromatic eyes follow Teruteru Hanamura’s directions and are blinded by the flash of a camera.

 “You could help me pick these out, y’know?” Hajime jerks his finger to the row of crops, standing around half his size. A guy with his short stature could get lost in the fields so Hajime kept him close by.

Teruteru was never above exploiting good will.

“I am helping. What friend would I be if I didn’t capture this magnificent view of you?” Teruteru whistled at Hajime, naked above the waist.

“I’m not topless to give you a show. It’s freakin’ hot.” Hajime wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Better working in the fields than cooping up with your rock collection.”

“They’re not rocks and I’m not a collector.” Hajime frowned, then gave his short friend further disapproval. “Mahiru’s gonna break you in two for taking her camera.”

“I’m looking forward to it, mon ami.”

“Why are you like this?”

Violent rustlings came from the grass nearby. A head of brown hair and tanned skin came into view and stopped in front of them.

“Damn it Akane, there’s a path. Don’t run on the vegetables!” Hajime berated the gymnast.

 “Forget that. There’s a ship coming near the dock.” Akane said.

“It must be Makoto.” Hajime murmured.

Teruteru gasped. “How terrible! I would have made a feast if I knew they was dropping by today!”

“It was any time this week.” Hajime motioned over to the barrel filled with the day’s harvest “I’ll wrap things up here, then meet you guys by the beach.”

…

Hajime ran to the shore, a bit late to the welcome party. By the dock was a small cruise ship. Hajime deduced Makoto couldn’t have come with that many people.

 “Hajime, what’s up.” Makoto waved over, surrounded by Hajime’s friends.

Happy-go-lucky as always. “Been a while.” Hajime shook hands with the younger man.

“Never thought I’d see you again, Stinkbug.” Hiyoko snickered behind her hand.

“Saionji.” Her target, Toko Fukawa retaliated with no less venom. “Your body’s off the jailbait phase, but If I have to listen to your mouth all day, I’d prefer someone lock me up.”

“Okaaay. Calm down, we’re here on vacation.” The third and final member of Makoto’s party stepped in between the glaring women.

“Komaru Naegi.” Hajime said wistfully.

The younger Naegi turned at the mention of her name.

“Have you two met?” Makoto asked besides Hajime.

“Ah…” There wasn’t an easy way to explain this, if at all. Thankfully, a well-timed distraction came to the rescue.

“Whoa, your eye colors mismatched!” Komaru eloquently deduced.

“Komaru.” Makoto groaned, shooting his sister a reproachful look.

“Don’t get all stuffy. I’ve never seen that before.” She peers with a discomforting amount of intrigue.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Hajime grumbled.

“Pffft.” Hiyoko snorted.

“Like anyone’s buying that load of bull. You’re way too sensitive about it.” Fuyuhiko chimed in, like Ironic his sole eye was any less conspicuous.

Makoto looked back and forth. “I feel we’re missing a few people.”

People, he says. Many would call them sub-human. Depending on perspective, Hajime couldn’t fault them.  

 “Teruteru got into an accident a bit before you arrived. Mikan’s taking care of him.” Mahiru answered. “Though I say it’s an accident, he brought it on himself.”

“Ah, I can take a guess.” Makoto scratched his cheek.

“As for Nagito…I’ll show you where he is, but first, let’s set you guys up.” Hajime said.

“Coach, let’s have a race and see who gets their stuff first.” Lacking any sort of proper etiquette, Akane raced to the ship, without Nekomaru’s consent or approval.

“When is she gonna learn that?” Nekomaru sighed gruffly “CHEATING’S WHY YOU’LL NEVER WIN!” The giant stormed off, kicking up a wave of sand that Hajime promptly dodged.

The same couldn’t be said of everyone else.

“I’m stuffed. That was the best food I ever had.” Komaru Naegi happily exaggerated, rubbing her stomach.

Makoto and Toko looked the other way.

The trio trail behind him and Sonia, the two volunteering to be their guides around the island. Makoto probably didn’t need it, but the other two were first timers.

“Teruteru would be pleased to hear that. Even moreso if everything but his arms weren’t in crippling pain.” Sonia replied.

Hey, it’s what Teru wanted.

“Man, I can’t believe you have this huge island to yourself.” Komaru looked left and right, back and forth.  

Hajime scouts her from the corner of his eye. It didn’t appear she was trying to be nice. In her eyes, Jabberwock must have looked like their private island, rather than the self-imposed prison it truly was.

“Yeah, even I’m a little impressed. I kind of expected this to be more…wreckage. Not so feudal.” Toko added.

“Most of the old technology and electrical wire were destroyed before we arrived. Hajime decided since it’s hot all year, we could opt for solar power.” Sonia explained.

Hajime rubbed the back of his neck. “There was a lot of junk lying around. Between Kazuichi and I, we made something out of them. The first year was rough though.”

“That explains all the windmills.” Komaru gazed at the rows of solar wind turbines in the distance, the fans spinning and absorbing energy.

“Why are you acting like a middle-schooler on a field trip?” Toko jabbed an elbow against Komaru’s side.

Sonia clapped her hands happily. “I do not mind at all.  It has been so long since I had the chance to show a visitor a tour of my home.” The princess’ eyes glimmered. “And I am especially pumped that you are here, Toko.”

“Hah?” The bespectacled woman tilted her head.

“I am a very big fan of yours!”

“Isn’t that great, Toko? You do have admirers.” Komaru perked up.

“Aha, I don’t think you’re on the right track, Komaru.” Makoto muttered.

Far from it, in Hajime’s mind.

Sonia’s fixation with serial killers was around way before they got sucked into despair. It stands as one of many proofs that each of them was broken in some way.

None moreso than Nagito.

“We’re here.” Hajime raised his voice somewhat in order to be heard. The roaring tides below the wide cliff drowned out anything less. Their guests were tight-lipped, their gaze fixed on the lone gravestone.

“Not my best idea of a surprise, I admit.” Hajime said, hands planted on his hips.

…

“When…?” Makoto was the first to speak.

“A few days ago. You just missed him.” Hajime explained. A warm breeze blew from the back, acting as the instigator for the luckster to move forward.

Silently, Makoto kneeled by the grave.

Hajime looked to the other two, who remained in place.

 “I don’t have fond memories of him, if I’m being honest.” Komaru hugged an arm.

Hajime replied “Preaching to the choir. He was a pain in my ass as long as I can remember.”

“…You don’t seem all too bothered.” Toko’s suggestiveness was clear as day.

“Nagito lived for a long time, relatively speaking. I don’t think for a second he’d want anyone to mourn him.” His hero, Makoto, least of all but Hajime kept that to himself.

“He was one of us. I hope he felt that way as well.” Sonia supplied.

“Not quite right.” Hajime murmured to himself. He sits on a wooden stool, critiquing his most recent work-in-progress. His chisel hovers over the bronze statue.

 Hajime reminisces over the subject’s most defining expression.

Three words came to mind; ‘smug as hell’

Therein lied the dilemma. Hajime busts a vein and breaks concentration whenever he thinks of Nagito’s condescending smile.

 “Hi there.”

He jolts at the tap on his shoulder.

Komaru stands behind him, hands behind her back. Like she hadn’t scared the daylights out of him.  “Saionji said I should check out the fifth island if I got bored, and I ended up here.”

Of course she did, that little devil.

“You should have knocked.” He’d been so focused he didn’t notice her walk in.

The younger girl’s amazed eyes roam up and down the statue. Then without shame, she snaps a photo using her cellphone.

I didn’t say she could take pictures… “Guess I don’t need to ask what you think of it.”

“Are you the Super High School Level Artist?” He hears the reverence in her voice. Accurate, yet altogether misplaced on a guy like him.

“This is just as a recreational activity for me.” Hajime grabs the sandpaper in hand and rubs the eyebrows on the statue. “They take a lot of effort and detail. It keeps me busy.”

Komaru claps her hands. “Makes sense. I’ve heard real artists are snootier and more eccentric.”

Hajime snorts at the unfounded stereotype. “Glad I don’t come across as pretentious.”

Her gaze flips back to the Nagito sculpture, then climbs down to the sides of his arm. Or where there ought to be an arm. Hajime hadn’t decided whether to add that part or leave it out. “You go all out though. I’ll probably be gone before I see it finished.”

“Not really. I could get it done by tomorrow if you’re that curious.”

She squinted. “Don’t these usually take weeks?”

“I work fast.” He stands. Komaru wasn’t exactly short. Heck, she was taller than her brother, but even that only reached Hajime’s shoulders. “I already have some finished sculptures, if you’re interested. They're mostly concrete thoguh” He points behind him to the other half of the room, segregated by red drapes.

Komaru nods rapidly

“Come on, they’re behind the curtains.” Hajime paused and caught himself. He addresses the girl apprehensively. “Or you could go bring your friend and your brother, if that’d make you feel safer.”

Indignantly. Komaru places her hands firmly on her hips and leans forwards. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need them following me around wherever I go.”

Hajime fakes a cough. “I mean…you do know who I am right?”

“No clue.” Komaru comically shakes her head. “I was kidnapped and confined to an apartment for a year.” She explains.

In other words, she knows I’m a remnant of despair, but doesn’t get what that entails specifically…

“I’m an ex-global terrorist.” It’s better to clear any misunderstandings early on so there are no surprises later. He sees even the minute shifts in her expression, along with the uncertainty. Emotions that should be present-

“Eh whatever. Makoto likes you guys. That’s good enough for me.”

Hajime blinks.

“Isn’t that taking things a little too easy?”

 “Woooow.” Komaru marveled at Hajime’s “collection.”  She skips from one stone sculpture to another, each reminiscent of old faces Hajime had come across over the years.

The raven-haired girl stops at the smallest. A sculpture depicting Chihiro Fujisaki’s likeness.

“Most of these are Makoto’s classmates. Why them?” Komaru asked.

Contrasting the odd girl, Hajime moved to the tallest, broadest statue in the room - A hulking figure with its fist raised to the ceiling. “A long time ago, my friends and I had to play a pretty twisted game. Along the way, we found a stone giant that burned itself into my memory.”

“I think we’ve all had our history with someone’s messed up idea of fun.” Komaru said lowly. “I wish I’d gotten to meet all of them.” Her curious eyes spot a statue of a girl playing with a portable console. “I don’t remember her from my bro’s pictures.”

“She’s from my class – erm, my friends’ class. Her name was Chiaki Nanami.” He replies.

Komaru hums, looking over the sculpture. “Even compared to the others, she looks…more detailed. I don’t know how to put it.”

Hajime joined her. “You noticed. This one…I remade it over and over until I was sure it was perfect.”

“Aha, so this is your favorite then.” Komaru expertly deduces.

 “I won’t deny it.”

 “Well my favorite goes without saying.” She leans on the statue of a famous idol. “Take a picture of us!” She threw Hajime her phone without warning. Not that he needed it, but the heads up would’ve been welcomed.

“…I’m glad someone appreciates them.” He snapped the photo and returned her phone.

Komaru smiled widely. “You’re amazing. I’m stuck with a lot of crazy people these days, but I can see why big bro wants you so bad.”

“What?” Hajime knotted his eyebrows.

Komaru gasps. “Don’t tell Makoto or Toko, please! They’ll never trust me with anything again!”

The level of fright she exuded had Hajime palming his mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the genuine laughter escaping his lips. “Ha...Haha.” Even compared to the other members of SHSL Despair, Hajime was a monster responsible for no small number of tragedies, directly or indirectly. Komaru hadn’t batted an eye to his suggestions, but her friends finding out she was a blabbermouth was the end of the world?

On some level, the world-destroyer felt insulted. “You’re exactly the person I thought you’d be.” Hajime smiled.

The younger Naegi slanted her head to the side. “What’s that mean? Did you know me?”

“Not personally, but I’m a big fan.”

“Heeey. Komaru, you in here?” Makoto’s voice rings out. Perfect timing.

“We’re in the back!” Komaru yelled back. Footsteps draw closer. The curtains are pushed aside by Makoto and Toko.

The latter looks relieved upon sighting Komaru. Her gaze turns critical when looking at him.

“I saw the statue in the back but…did you take up art?” Makoto asked.

“Whenever I hear the word ‘art’, all I think about is some pervert passing off their fetish as something constructive.” Toko criticized. Makoto chuckles nervously, catching the unsubtle reference to their old classmate. Said doujin author’s visage captured in front of them in one of Hajime’s statues.

The purple-haired woman scanned the trove of effigies, looking none too impressed. She’s outright appalled by one statue. “You made one of ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ too?”

Hajime was tight-lipped.

In his stead, Makoto came to his rescue with “It’s fine.” With a grave face, he stands across the model (in more ways than one) “Take a good look.”

The novelist squinted, giving the statue further observation. She stops at the twin tails. Her infamous bear clips had been replaced by twin rabbits. “Is that supposed to change anything?”

“It’s how we remembered her, before the tragedy. I’m sure Hajime didn’t mean anything by it. Right?” Makoto asks him.

He nodded slowly. “It was more of me wanting to complete the set.”

Makoto nodded and smiled. It dips when his gaze returns to the statue. “But I gotta say…there’s something off about this design…no offense.”

 “You think so too?” Hajime mused. “I had a feeling I messed up somehow but didn’t know where. I figured it wasn’t worth the effort to start from the scratch.”

“Hey, if this hobby is so important to you, you probably don’t want her snooping all over them.” Toko alerts him to the youngest of the group.

Hajime sweat dropped at the sight of Komaru zipping between his works like he’d set up a tourist attraction.

He returned his attention to the new arrivals. “Komaru mentioned…more like let it slip that you wanted something from me?”

Toko smacked her forehead, while Makoto sighed.

“You promised not to tell.” Komaru whined.

“No, I didn’t.” Hajime replied.

“Haa…the truth is, we’re not here just for a vacation.” Makoto gave him an uncharacteristically serious look. “To get to the point: We’re reopening Hope’s peak, and we need instructors. We’d like you guys to work with us.”

Hajime’s eyes widened an impressive fraction. He let the declaration sink in before replying. “Is that wise? Hope’s Peak was the site of the tragedy, and I’m sure too many want it buried for its corruption. As should you. Even though you’ve reclaimed a portion of your memories, that should only expedite the trauma of the killing game. I am against this.”

Makoto and Toko briefly traded glances. Neither failed to detect the change in Hajime’s speech, the mouthful nor the monotone delivery.

Makoto placed a hand on his chest. “It’s because of those memories that we should rebuild the school. Shoving important things into the background for the sake of convenience is what got us here. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

There was little point arguing. Makoto Naegi rarely did the wrong thing. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done for us, but…I’m afraid I’ll decline the offer. Many of us aren’t ready to go back into society, I doubt we’d be welcomed.”

“And you?”

“So long as one person stays, I’ll be needed.”

“It’s not like I didn’t expect that.” Makoto frowned.

“What’s the big deal? All we gotta do is convince them all to come back with us somehow.” Komaru rejoined the conversation.

Makoto beamed. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. We’ll talk it through with everyone.”

“…Did they listen to a word I said?” Hajime frowned as the siblings were lost in their own colorful world.

“Those idiots don’t have no respect for the delicate word ‘no’.” Toko said, though the jab at her friends was light, the suspicion in her eyes towards him was transparently heavy.

Hajime looked to the ▇▇▇▇▇ statue. From that position ‘it’ faced at the Naegi siblings in that trademark pose of hers

...

One week passed and their visitors were en route for departure.

“Thanks for coming, you guys.” Standing in front of Class 77, Hajime waved his hand, wrapped tightly with fresh bandages. He held back at a snicker at Toko berating the pouting Komaru.

“S-Stop sulking already. There isn’t even enough room on the ship for all of them.” The author reasoned.

“Last chance?” Makoto proposed. Hajime felt bad. Makoto likely had their best interests at heart, but his vision didn’t match reality.

 “No thanks. For obvious reasons, that goes for the both of us.” Fuyuhiko said with Peko at his side.

“If Miss. Sonia’s staying so am I.” Kazuichi states, with Gundham nodding along.

“I-I’m sorry, but I’m the only nurse available on the island…” Mikan squealed.

“I’d look forward to joining you guys. There’s a lot I need to make up for…but, I don’t think it’d feel right leaving Nagito alone.” Nekomaru had been in a similar case as Nagito, not destined to live for long. It was only with Hajime and Mikan’s efforts, coupled with the team manager’s fitness that sustained him.

“I’m not prepared, and I doubt my presence would do much good.” Ryota looked down in shame, gripping his arm.

Makoto smiled sadly. “I won’t give up on you guys just yet. But for now, I’ll take it.”

“Shall I present a compromise?” Sonia stepped forward past Hajime. “We all got together last night and thought about your proposal.”

Hajime jerked. “Did I miss the memo?” He didn’t know about any group meeting.

Sonia carried on, ignoring his confusion. “A good country must leave visitors with souvenirs to remember by. Therefore, we shall give you Hajime.”

The souvenir choked on his own spit. “E-Excuse me? Give ‘Hajime’ away? Where’s this coming from?”

“Think of this as your vacation.” The impostor said.

“You need a change of scenery, dude. Take it from your partner, you’ve done enough.” Kazuichi slapped him on the shoulder.

“I-I-I agree. We might have depended on you too much, and the burden might affect your health.” Mikan added.

“I’m more worried about his sanity.” Fuyuhiko interjected. “That hobby of yours is hella creepy. I hear you even punched one of em’.”

“Ignoring that. I refuse.” Hajime drew attention away from his injured hand.

“We are not sending you with them solely to play around, Hajime.” Sonia said. “I want you to be our ambassador, a bridge between us and the outside world.”

The impostor folded his arms and elaborated. “The vacation was only a joke on my part. You’re a valuable piece, moreso out there, than here. Ryota aside, the rest of us have made far too many mistakes. Mistakes the public will not quickly forget. But you are different. You were shrouded in mystery. Even we didn’t know who you were, or whatever your actions you might have taken. With you acting as a liaison, there may be a future for us outside these islands again.”

Logic. Hajime’s one weakness. If they’re going to put it that way, it’s hard to decline.

But he’ll damn well try.

“I’ll still have to get packed…”

“Your stuff is already on the ship.” Akane flared her teeth.

With how prepared they are, Hajime has half a mind to wonder if they were trying to get rid of him. Exasperated, he turns to meet Makoto and the others. Two of them wearing unabashed and knowing smiles.

Good grief.

 “Got room for one more?”

September 2013

The world was undergoing a transformation. While the remnants scattered like headless chickens, the future foundation found a foothold and led the valiant charge against despair. The lifelessness Izuru had observed in the streets for so long was gradually fading.

Izuru would play his part in this transitory period. Before his mission could begin, there was an experiment worth investigating. One orchestrated by Monaca Towa –▇▇▇▇▇’s most talented follower.

To that end, he infiltrated Towa City. The skills of The SHSL Spy came handy in these times.

If there was a setback, it was his target; the most mediocre specimen Izuru had ever paid attention to for as long as he did.

Truly, Komaru Naegi had not a speck of talent in her body. Whiny, indecisive and quick to divert responsibility. Everything you’d expect of a normal girl.

His teachers tirelessly warned him of the hopeless masses. How right they were.

Izuru hides among the adults in the refugee camp, watching the Naegi girl and Toko Fukawa ride off for their final showdown against the warriors of hope.

He glances to the left. Far off in the distance is the giant Monokuma on a rampage. The symbol of the adult’s rebellion.

Rebellion against mind-controlled children they aim to kill…

No matter, he still had a job to do. Before trailing Komaru Naegi, he needed the white Monokuma…

His search hadn’t taken long. He’d discovered the head of Shirokuma sprawled on the floor. Nobody in sight. “I know you’re there.” He called.

No sooner does a purple-haired woman stroll out from behind a nearby corner. “Nice evening we’re having.”

“That all depends on how it ends.” Izuru replied.

 “Too true.” She grins. “What a pinch. I planned on getting you to explain yourself with an ambush, but since you picked me off first, I’m feeling like the one due to give an explanation.”

“Let’s meet in the middle. My name is Hajime Hinata, a spy for the future foundation.” Izuru claimed a false identity.

She doesn’t react to the name, but the organization was a different story. “Not a good one if you’re showing your hand this early. Few things are less trustworthy than spies.”

“That you left Shirokuma as bait, can only suggest you’ve known about me and my activities for some time. In this scenario, denying it would only make me more suspicious.”

“Tall, dark, handsome and smart. If only I was 10 years younger.” Izuru doubted much would change, both in his romantic interests, and her deceptively youthful appearance. “The name’s Hiroko Hagakure. Since we’re being honest, I don’t believe you are who you say you are…but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Whatever you’re planning here, I can’t stop you.”

“You wouldn’t think to call the others for help?”

“Komaru and Toko already left. There’s nobody else here I’d call reliable. All these so-called adults have lost their heads. I’d be better off alone.”

“I’m impressed.” She understands which of them holds the cards. He could incapacitate her and flee with none the wiser.

He could. But he won’t so long as he faced no resistance.

 “Thanks, but for my questions now. What do you want with Shirokuma?”

“The foundation can’t overlook a rogue Monokuma breaking its programming and assisting the resistance against despair.  Analyzing Shirokuma might help us against the remnants.”

“Is that true?” The disembodied head spoke up.

Izuru side-glanced coldly. “Yes.”

“It’s alright, Hiroko.” Shirokuma directed its sweet voice to the older woman.

Hiroko frowned. “Are you sure? These guys might not have your best interests at heart.”

You have no idea.

“I don’t think there’s much else I could do for everyone here. But if I can help stop my brothers and sisters at the source, I have to try.”

“As you can see, Shirokuma’s been badly damaged. We have the technology to repair it.  Who knows what could happen if left in this state?” Izuru added.

“…Fair enough. I can’t argue with that logic.” Hiroko nodded. “Then I only have one more question.”

“Name it.”

“What’s with your interest in Komaru?”

“That far back?”

Hiroko smirked. “I have a son. He’s a good kid, tends to get mixed up with some bad people. I’ve spent a better part of a decade looking for shady characters that might bring him trouble.” What part of that description suggests a good child? “In your case, when a guy like you watches a girl that attentively…”

“She’s Makoto Naegi’s sister, and I thought she might have potential. But she’s just an ordinary girl. Without Toko Fukawa at her side, she’d never have made it this far.” Her progress throughout Towa City had been pre-determined, structured by her own enemies.

“How’s that discourage her accomplishments? Little Komaru’s the one in the driver’s seat. Her successes and failures are hers to own.” Hiroko argued.

“Perhaps.” He said, less in agreement, more in how he saw no point to continuing that argument.

“Take my advice, watching from afar doesn’t always give you the best picture. Jumping first into the ring has its charms.”

“What you refer to is something I’m not capable of.”

“Changed my mind, I'd need to lose 20 years. Despite appearances, you're quite the boy." Hiroko looks him up and down, lips forming a smirk. "Take an adult's advice. Whether or not you’re able to do anything is something you decide for yourself after you’ve tried it. Anyone ever lit a fire under your heart before, hun?”

“Upupu~”

He shot a momentary glare at the bear breaking character, before replying to Hiroko’s question. “I can’t say there has been.”

Izuru also can't say he's being entirely truthful.

“Monaca’s a liiiittle obsessed.”

Izuru agreed, in a less obnoxious way than Shirokuma. He’d followed after Komaru Naegi and found his way to Monaca Towa’s room. A shrine dedicated to the SHSL despair.

It had been half a year since he…or anyone else had seen ▇▇▇▇▇ alive. It had been well over a year since he met her last in person. Back then, standing atop the roof of Hope’s Peak Academy as the reserve course plummeted to their deaths, he’d been sure they would meet again…

“I can’t blame her too much. Never getting to see my beautiful face again. Now that’s true despair.”

“You are not Her.” The A.I operating the Monokuma was mere data, following a pattern. At best, it was a convincing sham.

“What’s this? Are you angry?”

Worse. He was bored. Monaca Towa’s gamble was plain as day. “To transform Komaru Naegi into ▇▇▇▇▇ ‘s successor. Or so she may tell herself.”

“We both know the real reason.”

Revenge.

“How boring.” Even the remnant most similar to ▇▇▇▇▇ couldn’t be compared at all. To begin with…Komaru Naegi is too ordinary to be a successful or despair. “There aren’t worthier candidates?” He says in between short gaps.

A chord strikes within him. He strains to think.

“Something wrong~?” Shirokuma coyly asks.

“You know.”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t tell me.”

“I won’t. It’s your own fault after all.”

Then he ought to go with the flow. Braving the unknown is a matter not rushed. Once the immaterial became material, its splendor diminished.  Abnormalities are all that kept him from succumbing to an ennui-induced coma. “Let’s see the end of this farce.”

A joke of an ending it was. In a sensible way.

Izuru stands on the bridge leading to the edge of Towa city, gazing down at the smoke and rubble.

“In the end, she chose neither hope nor despair.” Komaru Naegi would fail at either. However… she attained that insight in the middle of the battle and chose a different path. One that led to neither fame nor infamy.

It was a predictable ending yet still bizarre. For Izuru – loved by talent – remaining normal was tantamount to death. If he’d been in Komaru Naegi’s position, he couldn’t have made that choice.

“Was it cowardice or self-satisfaction?” He ponders her reasonings.

…No matter. “She gracefully stepped off the stage and is thus unimportant.”

Izuru grips the brain chips containing the Alter Ego.

He would set the next battle in motion himself. He had seen enough of despair. It was time to put hope to the test.

Izuru abandons the caved heads of the white and black Monokuma.

???

The boat languidly sways. The vibrations that he found erratic now followed a set pattern once he realized where he was.

His cellmate spoiled his fun.

The decrepit ultimate hadn’t taken his eyes off Izuru ever since their first conversation. No doubt, waiting for the next break from tedium.

 “Nagito Komaeda, was it?”

The ashen-haired man reacted like a man bestowed a miracle. “I’m glad you remembered.”

“That arm hasn’t rotted?” Izuru asked.

“Like I said, it might be accepting me.” Nagito wheezed, elated at becoming one with the person he claimed to love and hate.

“Is that so? Then, what would you do to overturn our current predicament, as the SHSL Despair?” Izuru posed. “You and the others ought to be aware of the plan.”

“Ah…I wasn’t supposed to be speak of that. We might be overheard.” He laughs nervously. “It’s not like I know what’s really going on either. Only that entering the simulation will set the stage for the next battle.  Fuyuhiko and Sonia are probably the only ones that do.”

“They’re no less ignorant than you.” Izuru declared. Nagito caught on. “I will tell you this. In that simulation, a killing game will begin again.”

Nagito’s eyes widen and he descends into depraved cheer. “What an honor!”

“What would you do?” Izuru repeats his earlier question.

Nagito crossed his legs, proudly saying “What I’ve always done. I will facilitate despair and watch as hope inevitably triumphs over it.”

Inevitably. Interesting choice of words. “Does that prerogative stem from being a believer of hope, or despair?”

“…”

“Is there even a difference?”

Nagito’s hands curled into fists. Not in anger, but a form of self-assurance. “Everything in life is balanced, hope and despair aren’t different in that regard. You can’t have one without the other, and if there’s an excess in either, the scales will tip to the other side all the same. The tragedy has gone on for years already. Us despairs and our wretchedness must birth the greatest hope in history.”

Beyond the rhetoric, Izuru aims for the vital. “Despite your crimes, you dare to hope for a happy ending.”

It wasn’t a question, but Nagito predictably took it as one. “Trash like me doesn’t matter. This is just how the world works.”

“Except for when it doesn’t.” Izuru said sarcastically. “Who exists in this world of yours? Many would raise vocal disagreements against you. The ones that wouldn’t, are dead- Oh, I see. You think your lofty goals are beyond their understanding.”

“More or less. The world is ruled by the ignorant and talentless.” Nagito shrugs haphazardly.

“I’m sure you are different.”

“As mediocre as it is, even I have talent.” It slips, the flicker of individuality Komaeda obfuscates. Everyone has desires, some are better at hiding it. Izuru imagines Komaeda’s had years of practice.

What would happen if I wrenched that lid open? “Then you have never lost anything that couldn’t be made up for? That no hope could ever reward?”

Nagito’s bony fingers lift off his leg and hangs in the air. Meanwhile the man’s expression remained stern. “No.” He replies. Izuru wonders if Nagito was aware that it took 1 minute and 36 seconds for a single word answer.

“No loved ones? Brothers? Sisters? Mother and father?” Nagito’s calm fractures. For the first time since Izuru spoke, the lucky student averted his eyes.

 Just a little more. “Not Chiaki Nanami?”

“Stop!” Nagito yelled. “Don’t make me remember.”  He clawed at his ghostly hair. “It will balance out. It must.”

The desperation comes to light, at last.

Manically, he preaches “It has. ▇▇▇▇▇’s death is proof of that. In her place, Makoto Naegi became the SHSL Hope. The world is already improving!”

His eyes are a spiral of black and white.

Izuru scoffed inwardly. He traveled the world, from Alaska to Germany. There was a fine difference between improving and healing. He hadn’t seen a shred of proof for the former.

However, it all comes back to them in the end: Makoto and ▇▇▇▇▇

“Calm down. I was only interested in your claim of becoming the SHSL Despair. It doesn’t appear to be worth much.”

Izuru almost smiles at the sheer relief Komaeda visibly exudes at his line of questions, ending. If smiling was something he did.

“Honestly, even if our plan here fails, I’ve still got my hopes in Monaca Towa. With how much she loves ▇▇▇▇▇, I’m sure she’ll birth a powerful despair, as that disgusting woman’s successor.”

This again. “She lacks the potential.”

“You might be right. In our sessions, she was determined but not very enthusiastic.” Nagito pressed a finger to his chin.

“What?” Izuru asked. That was a clear contradiction

“After her attempt with Komaru Naegi failed, Monaca’s desire for a successor didn’t waver at all. But whenever I tried to teach her to become one, she didn’t seem interested. Perhaps she has others with the same potential as Komaru Naegi?” The lanky male pondered.

“If there were better candidates, we would know of them.”

“There’s so much in the world we don’t know, and I think that’s a good thing.” What Nagito had said was truly profound. In the sense that while he wasn’t entirely wrong, he was physically incapable of understanding the hypocrisy.

Suddenly, Nagito apologizes. “Pardon me for comparing us. For someone like you, blessed by talent. I’m sure even ▇▇▇▇▇’s death was something you’d foreseen.”

…

“You have a point.” It was the first inch Izuru given the other man. The smile that comes forth quickly makes Izuru regret that decision.

“Though I have to wonder. If there’s ever anyone who can surpass Her, when would they arrive? Supposing we’re defeated here. A person like ▇▇▇▇▇ comes around once in a lifetime.” Nagito said.

“If one does, you’d better hope it’s in 5-10 years.”

“Why that long?”

“Your expiration date.” Izuru clarified.

Nagito goes silent. The atmosphere is saved as the ship’s swaying stops.

“We’ve arrived.” At Jabberwock Island

“They’ll be coming to pick us off.”

“Doubtfully all at once. Too big of a risk.”

Nagito nodded. “I guess we’ll see each other in the simulation.”

“No. We’ll never meet again.” The ‘me’ from hereon, will be an entirely different person.

“Then…can I at least get your name?”

Pointless. Izuru would never call himself by it again. “Very well.” He’d grant that request, in gratitude for an illuminating discussion.

Sometimes, a comparison is needed to see the big picture. Nagito Komaeda was a dark reflection of himself. For all the lucky student’s mania, he has the sense to realize he’ll never attain salvation. He can only find it in another’s hand.

“My name is…”

August 2023

Hajime sets a plate of omelette and bacon on the dinner table. He’s careful with the freshly brewed coffee as to not spill it on the checker-patterned linen. It’s not his best attempt, but Komaru stares like it was a 5-star meal.

“Living the life over here.” She mewls, with cheeks full.

Hajime rests his cheek on his palm. “Late night eating isn’t healthy, but from the looks of things, you’re not planning on sleeping anyway.” The clock reads 4 am. His roommate’s frustrated groans and the lights peeking out his door woke him. For the third night in a row.

When she cuts into his weekend beauty sleep, it’s time for an intervention.

 “I’m falling behind on grading test scores.” She explains. As if the stacks of marked sheets and red circles weren’t enough of a giveaway. “I didn’t think teaching would be this hard.”

“Will you quit?”

The question nearly offends her. “I-I’m just venting. I’m nowhere near close to throwing in the towel.”

“Good. I wouldn’t advise you to. As the headmaster’s sister, an early retirement would reflect poorly on the school.”

 Komaru stiffens sharply.  “N-No pressure or anything.”

“Whoa. You have been thinking of quitting.” He declares.

She lowers her head, staring at the food prepared by a SHSL Chef. “I’m out of my depth, teaching those brilliant kids. Some of them are probably smarter than I am.”

“It’d be strange if that wasn’t the case.” Hajime said bluntly, resting his arms behind his head. “Most teachers in the old Hope’s Peak were either alumni or esteemed researchers. You don’t meet those qualifications.”

Komaru’s face tightens. The fork in hand switches back to the pen. The resuming silence is occupied by the tip skirting on paper.

“I wasn’t trying to discourage you.” Hajime clarifies.

Komaru flippantly waves her free hand. “I know you weren’t, but I’d like to meet the guy who wouldn’t be discouraged after hearing that.”  The younger Naegi breathed a deep sigh. “But I’m stuck here, like you said. Instead of whining, I’ll focus on doing the best I can.” Her attention returns to grading.

Her dismissal bugs him just a tiny bit. “Should I help?”

“Help how?” She knits her brows.

“I’ll teach you how to be a better instructor and better manage your time in and out of class.” He said with a raised finger.

“How do you know what I do in class?”

“I pass by from time to time. It looks like fun.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He monitored the school on his own discretion. “I’ll want payment. Not money.”

“What do you want then?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“I’ll tell you only after you agree.” He teased.

“Are you even in the position to teach me anything?” She searches for a vulnerability.

“You curious about my job? It is difficult if that’s what you’re asking.”  Less than a career, and more a community service. One Hajime was not legally permitted to leave any time soon.

“Mental health is a big issue nowadays. You must be swamped.” Komaru gave him a non-envious stare.

“The workload is manageable.” Hajime shakes his head.  “I have to listen to these kids stress about problems I’m partially responsible for. It makes me feel like shit.” He thinks about the lucky student who came to see him today and would predictably be making many more visits to Hajime’s office - A 16-year-old boy remarkably kept together when he had no one else, and the sole survivor of his hometown ravaged by despair.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to come out of his stupor.

“Did I space out there?” Hajime asked.

“A little bit.”

“Let’s blame sleep deprivation, caused by you. Now, what’s your answer?”

Komaru twirled her pen and with a straight face exclaimed, “I refuse!”

Hajime has not the slightest clue why she emphasized her rejection. “Why?”

“One of my favorite things to do is tell a know-it-all, ‘no’.” She puffs her chest in pride.

“Why are you talking like that?”

“No reason~” She smiled heartily and stretched her arms overhead. “I probably haven’t given you the best impression of me, but I’ll have you know I’m no damsel in distress. I’ll pull my own weight and show you how cool I can be.”  She offers her real explanation.

“…I can’t wait to see this mythical side of you.”

“Just wait.” Komaru jabbed the pen’s tip at him. “Also, you didn’t even tell me your conditions. There’s definitely something horrible planned for me.”

Horrible huh? “And what if that condition was that I’d give you special training?” Hajime hid his smirk behind crossed fingers. “One that might give you a bunch of talents.”

Komaru wrapped her arms around herself and backed away defensively. “That sounds waaaay too shady. I’m not that gullible or dumb, you know!”

…

“Yeah, you’d have to be a real idiot to fall for that.” He smiled self-depreciatively.  “To confess, it was nothing like that. My real condition was that you come to the movies with me.” Hajime declared.

Komaru dropped her pen. “Huh?”

He contemplatively pressed a finger to his chin. “Seeing as how you’ve been hyper-stressed, I thought an evening out would do us some good. Toko too, if she can be bothered.”

“O-Oh. That’s what you meant.”

“…You sound disappointed.”

“I am not.” Her cheeks flushed.

“Who are you kidding? If we had a dog, it’d think you were a fire hydrant.” The sharp-tongued rebuke came from Toko Fukawa. The ex-SHSL Literary Girl leaning against the kitchen entrance. The bags under here eyes accentuate how thoroughly pissed off she is.

 “T-That’s disgusting!” Komaru returned.

“Did we wake you?” Hajime asked.

“No definitely not. It’s just like me to be awake at 5 in the morning on a Saturday.” Sarcasm oozed from every word. If Toko had a spirit animal, Hajime was confident it’d be a porcupine. Small, frail and ready to give 30000 reasons to brace yourself before interacting with her.

““I’m sorry.”” They apologized.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Toko swiped the coffee cup and brought it to her lips.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Komaru whined.

“Warm.” A single word and all its negative connotations are directed to Hajime.

“I can make you another.” He offers.

“What makes you think he made that coffee?” Komaru’s scrutinizing eyes trail Toko as she sits down.

“Pointing microphones at killer robots might have been your only talent. You can’t make coffee or cook or even clean!”

“I clean.”

Hajime snorted. “No, you don’t. Do you know how many times I’ve had to clean your room?”

The ravenette paled. Slowly, nervously, she turned her best friend. “I thought you took care of that.”

“I-I wouldn’t step a foot in that pig sty.” Toko said.

Hajime was damn sure if some non-breakable material (like say, a pillow) was nearby, Komaru would have thrown it at him. “Why would you go into my room!?”

“You left your door open one evening. I spotted the mess and felt compelled to clean it. Ever since then, I’ve made it my bi-weekly duty.” Hajime muttered.

“Kill me.” Komaru groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

“That’s what you get for letting your guard down.” Toko berated her.

 “You’re so mean today.” Komaru yelled.

“Guess what. I’m cranky when I wake up early!”

“Then go back to sleep. We’ll be quieter.”

“So y-you’ll get busy doing god knows what. No thanks.”

“You’re always like this.”

“That’s because she doesn’t like me.” Hajime muses.

 “To be precise, I don’t trust you.” Toko doesn’t miss a beat. She faces him with honest, straightforward skepticism.

“What do you mean you don’t trust him?” Komaru asked. “Hajime’s helped us out a lot. We used to order takeout all the time. You were even worrying about your weight!”

“That’s a totally different story.” Toko flushed. “How do you know h-he isn’t worming his way into our good sides? I mean why else would he stay with us?”

 “It’s cheap, near the school and we’re all take the same car to the same place every morning anyway?” Hajime said with raised fingers.

“Don’t give me that. I bet you could teleport there or something.”

“I will firmly deny that.” He could build a teleporter though. Note to self: make a teleporter later. “But I see your point. Any normal person would be crazy to trust me blindly. But couldn’t the same be said of you?”

“There’s a world of difference between us.” The serial killer takes the moral high ground, and she’s right.

Hajime grimaces. Inwards, he asks himself an honest, futile question: ‘How’d my life come to this?’

“That’s enough! Both of you!” Komaru bridges a metaphorical wall between them “Where is all this bad mojo coming from?”

…Evidently, the girl hadn’t noticed the animosity in the months the three had been living together.

“He’s dangerous.”

“Shut up! Geez. If you’re both dangerous, doesn’t that mean you ought to get along better? Like two-of-a-kind.”

Hajime could shoot at least 4 holes in that argument on the spot.

“D-Don’t try to sweep this under the rug with that dumb logic. The one’s who’s in danger is you.” Toko jabs her finger into Komaru’s forehead.

Komaru rubs the reddened skin. “Why would I be in danger?”

Hajime furrows his eyebrows. He appreciates what are (probably) Komaru’s attempts at defending him but…isn’t she saying a lot of strange things too?

Technically speaking, he and Toko were criminals.

“You let your guard down way too much. Even around me! Your brother’s one thing, but you don’t have that hope dope or plot armor. You’re just that careless.” Toko admonished.

“I mean…is there a reason not to be?”

Hajime and Toko share perplexed expressions.

 “I like the current you; the ones that became my friends. Why should I stress over your backgrounds?” She scratched her cheeks.

“…” “…”

“What?” Komaru asks her non-plussed roommates.

Toko returned to her senses before Hajime did, offering a reluctant but sincere “I owe you an apology.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, distrusting me is only natural.” Hajime nodded absentmindedly, still staring at Komaru in amazement.

“That was…abrupt.” Komaru said slowly.

Toko shook her head. “You made me realize there’s no point getting worried about him. Because the problem is that you’re fatally ignorant.”

“Eh?” Komaru’s eyes widened.

Hajime looked pityingly at Komaru. “I’m suddenly, extremely worried about your future.”

“Eh????”

???

“I still have things I want to do.” Was said amongst pained intakes of breath. The body of a young girl writhes in a literal pool of her own blood. Even the slightest motion ought to have been excruciating, yet she lifts her hand towards him. Not as a cry for help – she was beyond saving. The futile gesture was for his sake. A fact that he found incomprehensible to the end.

Her hand falls and she breathed her last.

Visual static snap Izuru out of the memory. The man’s hand fly to his face.

A rare dream and an unpleasant memory.

He looks out the window of a ruined building to find…more ruins in view. If Izuru could name one thing he’d tired of over the years, it was structural decay. His talents allowed him to appreciate art. Everywhere he went was the same, looked the same. The same red skies, the same battles involving the future foundation and Monokuma, the same strung up corpses littering the streets.

The tragedy had grown boring. The remnants of despair and their followers were mere imitations of the original.

He’s delighted at the footsteps that interrupt his tedium. Izuru looked back to the man walking through the door. Almost golden eyes square on him. Only in his gaze can Izuru detect a sliver of potential. His form, physique, disposition. All mediocre.

“Welcome.” Izuru said, inwardly offering thanks to Yukizome for helping lure him.

Cautiously, Makoto Naegi approaches. “…You’re not a survivor.”

“Ah him.” Izuru pointed to one corner in the wall. A man messily slumped over on the wall. His clothes dirtied from the cascade of blood. The diagnosis was a face, brutally caved-in.

 “He attempted to resist.” Izuru was passive, not merciful.

Makoto clenches his fists.

 “Introductions are in order. My name is Hajime Hinata.”

“What do you want?” Makoto spat.

“That is the million-dollar question.” Izuru briskly walked towards the younger male. “You are required. But first, I must test if you are fit for the role.”

 Makoto tenses but doesn’t draw his weapon.

In deference to that executive decision, “I’ll give you a 5-minute head-start.”

His threats are met with defiance forged from the killing school life. “You won’t intimidate me.”

“We’ll see.”

“Is that it then?” Izuru pinned an unconscious to the ground with his foot firmly planted in the brunet’s chest.

23 minutes. A 16-minute margin of error in Izuru’s predictions. Multiple lacerations covered his body. His breathing was erratic, showing signs of mild fatigue.

One after another, unforeseen incidences roadblocked him to reaching Makoto.  

He looked down at the fallen hope, searching for any more surprises he may have in store. Nothing comes.

In the end, luck was all Izuru couldn’t predict about him. And that was the most confusing thing of all.

Why did Chiaki die? Why did you survive? – Those thoughts circled his mind as he weighed the two.

They had a class worth of friends. They preached camaraderie. They sacrificed themselves for others. Chiaki died, and Makoto lived.

What was the difference?

Was luck all it took?  

Then why did Izuru, who also had luck, lose?

If it was possible. If ▇▇▇▇▇ could be defeated. “It should have been by my hands.” He admits and laments. He really, really wanted to have been the one to kill her.

He still can, in spirit.

Izuru procures the brain chips from his pocket. This tiny fragment was all that was left of Her. If he crushed them, she would disappear forever.

Izuru smiled and squeezed, feeling a vague sense of warmth somewhere deep inside him. The transient sensation fades and he loosens his grip. Nothing has changed. He was a slave even now.

Only when all was said and done that Izuru realized he’d been manipulated. After he’d suppressed ▇▇▇▇▇ in their first meeting, he thought she was disposable, but perhaps that was her plan. She tricked him, made him a pawn and began The Tragedy. As a result, Izuru expected the world of her and was betrayed.

▇▇▇▇▇ was his teacher, who taught him more than the professors at the academy ever did. She was his comrade, who treated him as more of a person than they had. That didn’t mean Izuru was delusional. He didn’t admire her and she didn't care about him. Regardless, he sought to understand her. ▇▇▇▇▇'s philosophies had myriad of flaws. She was aware of that. She had to be, for despair to have meaning. Still she advanced, confidently but not unerringly. Her death was proof.  She was wrong and that too, was a lesson to be learned.

Izuru wanted to fill the gaps, to know where she had misstepped. What did the participants of the killing game have that Hope’s Peak Academy, that Chiaki lacked? What did Izuru lack compared to the SHSL Despair and the SHSL Hope.

This unsolvable riddle was her parting gift. Solving it would be his proxy victory over her.

“Makoto Naegi. You destroyed my ideal and stole my answer.” The sole remaining light in this world.

The swirls in Izuru’s eyes glowed.

He pressed down on Makoto’s chest. The man coughing harshly in response. He jerked, slowly regaining consciousness.

“▇▇▇▇▇ used me and fled in death, thanks to you. Your sin will be cleansed only by assisting me in my revenge.”

January 2025

There were milestones in everyone’s life lives – the stages of adolescence, a first job, moving out, falling in love, getting married. Hajime thought he was above stressing over what ordinary people would on such occasions.

It was rare that he was wrong, but it happened.

 “What does he want?” Hajime hissed. Even if he had spoken on a level tone, the wails of the newborn in his arms would have overtaken it. Of course Hajime knew about babies, their cries for attention, the works. But he still didn’t know what to do.

“Hehe.”

Makoto Naegi smiles his way, having taken time off work to visit his family in the hospital. “I gotta say, it’s funny seeing you so frizzed out. Calm down a little.”

“I am not ‘frizzed out’.” Hajime says off-beat, standing still in case any abrupt motions caused even more discomfort in his son. “I just don’t get it. I followed the manuals, none of it’s working.”

“Take deep breaths.” Hajime growls at Makoto’s common advice. He feels even worse when it works.

“They’re just general guides. Every kid’s different. Even if you’ve got all the info, experiencing being a dad’s a whole lot different.”

“Yeah.” Hajime soured.

Makoto sighed and held out his arms.

Hajime feels an emptiness when the child leaves his grasp.

Slowly, the crying stops.

Makoto chuckles triumphantly.

Hajime’s arched eyebrow prompts an immediate explanation.

“They feel fragile, but if you’re calm, you won’t hurt them by holding a little tighter. If I’m being honest, I was scared you were going to drop him with a hold that loose.” Makoto placed the baby back with Hajime.

This time, the heterochromatic man incrementally embraced his son more tightly. Sure enough, he was sound and looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. “…That’s it? Just a bit more contact?”

“He was cold. That thin blanket isn’t enough.”

…

 “You sound like you’ve got experience.”

 “No way. Hiro and Mikan gave me that bit of insight.” Makoto bashfully replied.

“Mikan…now there’s someone who can help-Who’s that?””

Hajime peered over Makoto’s shoulder. Peeking into the hospital room was a pale skinned boy with black hair and long eyelashes.

Makoto turned around, just fast enough to catch a glimpse of their voyeur before he retreated.

“Hold up a second.” Makoto ran after him. Seconds later, he returned. The raven-haired child in tow. Well, more like hiding behind him.

“This is Shuichi Saihara. Thought I’d finally introduce you.” Makoto explained, pushing the boy forward. The boy Kyoko adopted. Hajime’d heard of him a few times before.

 “H-Hello.” Came a squeamish greeting. The poor kid could barely look at him.

“Come on, Hajime may look mean, but he’s a good guy.”

“Didn’t think I was that scary…”

“He’s really shy.” Makoto whispers, as if there was any way Shuichi wouldn’t hear from right next to him.

 “Nice to meet you, Shuichi.” Hajime smiled and extended a free hand.

Shuichi nodded, still tightly gripping Makoto’s leg.

Hajime’s focus returned to the HPA headmaster, who again, was all smiles and sunshine.

“What’s with that grin?” He dared ask.

“My family’s growing bigger by the day.” Makoto picked up Shuichi from behind, surprising the boy.

He looked down the baby he cradled. The little one’s eyes fixate on him. “That makes two of us.”

Hajime put on his finest smile.

October 2020

“It’s no good.” Hajime groaned. This was his 4^th failed attempt. “What am I missing?”

“It looks fine to me.” Nagito leaned over him, his chin resting atop Hajime’s hair, like it wasn’t annoying as hell. And only possible because Hajime sat down, fixated on his work – a stone statue he sculpted in his spare time.

Hajime’s brow twitched. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Ah, you were talking to yourself. Out loud.” Hajime raised a middle finger in response to the luckster’s smug. Nagito sluggishly backed off. Only a wooden cane keeps him standing.

“How is this adequate?” Hajime pointed a sharp finger at the model.

Nagito blinks. In the eyes of the luckster, all he sees is a frighteningly accurate depiction of Chiaki Nanami.

Hajime grumbled. “It’s the face. Chiaki’s expressions are delicately lethargic. The eyes should be narrower, like she’s 3 quarters of the way falling asleep.” The finer points were so much more difficult. “Then there’s those pixel clips. The real ones were more detailed, but it’s hard to replicate here.”

Nagito averts his eyes, smile straining slightly. “Mikan would call this level of obsession unhealthy.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes. “Remember the deal. I’d let you stay if you stayed quiet.”

“I’ve been silent for over an hour now…”

“Your point?”

Nagito sighs, then sways his head from left to right. Before him are an impressive display of art, representing many familiar faces. Faces he’d probably never see again…or he might see very soon.

Nobody knows what happens when you die.

 “I heard there’s a Buddhist tradition where statues are built as a form of atonement,” Nagito started. “Surely you’re not obsessing over the past.”

“Now why do you make it sound like the most wasteful idea you’ve ever heard?”

 “Heh. I wouldn’t want you and the others to hope for something impossible like redemption, only to be disappointed. It is a waste of talent and not productive at all.” Nagito said with a friendly wave of the hand.

“You sure are negative. You don’t think any of us can atone for what we did? Not even you?”

Nagito deadpans. “As long as I can remember, this world has hated me, ruined me.” Hajime’s sure the feeling is mutual. “If you’re asking if I want to be saved, then yes. However, if you’re asking if I want to be forgiven for my role in The Tragedy, ‘I don’t care’. In some cultures, death is atonement, so it’ll happen then if it ever does.”

“This coming from the guy who’s the most afraid to die out of all of us.” Hajime snarked

 “It’s not dying that scares me. It’s dying alone.”

Hajime faces away from Nagito, gripping his chisel tightly. “Then you’re in luck.”

“Huh?”

“Whether I like it or not, I’m stuck with you. That goes for all of us.” On a deserted tropical island.

 A thick silence follows.

Hajime grunts, turning his head back to Nagito. His annoyance triples when faced with the luckster’s wide smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Nagito chirped. “How much longer?”

“Who knows? I’d be done quicker if you weren’t a distraction.”

“I’ll take my leave, if you do me one favor.”

“Anything.” Hajime begged.

“Erect a bronze statue of me.”

Hajime smirked.

A reflection of himself to the end. “Fuck you.”

February 2030

A detective’s life is filled with risks. You had to be brave, even if that meant venturing where you shouldn’t for the sake of the job. And where there’s danger, there’s consequence.

Following this sage advice, Shuichi had to admit he was in deep shit.

Voluntarily.

Kyoko’d come to him with a request the previous school year to find out all he could about his classmate, Kokichi Ouma; a self-proclaimed mastermind who excelled at lying and keeping secrets.

Kokichi was a storm. He showed up, wreaked havoc, then left. Rinse and repeat. There wasn’t a pattern or reason to his antics.

Shuichi tried a new tactic, after getting wind of Kokichi attending a meeting with Hajime Hinata. That’s why Shuichi was hiding in in a locker. Kokichi never revealed anything in normal conversations, but a mandatory counseling might yield different results. And if Shuichi ended up being discovered, he could get Kyoko to bail him out…probably.

If there was any flaw in his master plan…it was that Shuichi hadn’t watched his back.

“Shall we get started?” Shuichi recognized Hajime’s voice.

“I gotta say, this isn’t my idea of a good time.” Kokichi’s came next. The detective strained his neck to angle his head where he could see through the thin openings. Moving his whole body was impossible because…

“I’m really sorry about this.” Kaede was stuck in there with him! The pianist caught him acting suspiciously and tailed him into the office. And…there was only one place for them to hide. In a cramped locker.

There wasn’t any explaining this if they were caught.

Kokichi sauntered over to a glass case containing numerous trophies and awards.

If Hajime was bothered by the purple-haired boy’s snooping around, he didn’t show it. Instead he motioned to his desk’s bottom drawer. A game-ball finds its way into his hands in one second, then tossed to Kokichi the next.

“Thanks, but by mom always told me I shouldn’t play in-doors. I could break something.” Kokichi flashes his pearly whites.

Hajime slumps on the front of his desk “Nothing here is irreplaceable, and I’m not materialistic.” The only thing worth protecting was a picture frame seated next to him. “If it’ll make you comfortable, you can play around while we talk.”

“And what could we possibly have to talk about? I thought you agreed to ‘leave me to Shuichi’.”

“Shuichi?” Kaede said lowly. Shuichi meets her eyes and shakes his head.

“I’ll be evaluating your mental health, but don’t feel like you’re in trouble or that anything said here will be used against you.”

“Nicest way anyone’s ever asked to check how much of a loon I am.” Kokichi dropped the inflated ball in front of him. When it bounced, he kicked it upwards with his foot.

“Your reputation is terrible, and it’s only your second year.” Hajime noted. “Are you dissatisfied with the school?”

“Don’t be so serious. I’m treating it like a fun vacation.”

“From?”

“Running an evil organization of 10000 men is tough work y’know.”  Shuichi and Kaede collectively rolled their eyes. As if anyone would ever fall for his insistent lies.

“That’s a big sell. I was sure DICE was around a third of that number.”

After 12 flawless juggles, the ball slips and rolls to the ground.

DICE? Kokichi really does lead an organization? – The supreme leader’s talent puzzled Shuichi since their first meeting. Hope’s Peak Academy sorted students based on merit. Kokichi’s talent had to mean something, but his was so outlandish that it was difficult to accept. How would a no-name, looking like he’s still in middle school have criminal connections?

While Shuichi processed the information, Kokichi reclaimed his new plaything, holding it square to his chest. “Big bad Hinata’s done his homework. Hey hey, should I be scaaaaared?” Kokichi taunted.

 “No. This was a private investigation on my part, going beyond the school’s regular background checks.” Hajime replied.

“What do you want in exchange for keeping your trap shut? Wealth? Power? Knowledge? Ask and ye shall receive, assuming I have any of those things. Which I do!” Kokichi rambled.

“This isn’t blackmail. I just want to figure a few things out. Like…what’s your goal in life? If Hope’s Peak is only a ‘vacation’, what are your plans for after graduation?”

Kokichi spun the orb on his finger. “Hmm…I’ll take over the world, I guess.”

Hajime’s continued note-taking unnerved Shuichi, even when the detective wasn’t the subject. It was like…he was taking Kokichi’s wild claims seriously.

 “World domination’s not easy. Even ignoring the barriers and safeguards against a global hegemony, staying in control would make every day of your life a struggle.”

“I know that already. What do you think subordinates are for?” Kokichi replied with dull irritation.

Hajime smiled. “So there are people you trust-”

Kokichi cut him short. “Don’t get carried away. Those guys were like headless chickens when I found them. It’s easy to keep them in line and use them when I’m the one getting results.”

His sharp words gave Hajime pause. “You could gain from being more social. Putting your playmates aside, have you made friends here at least?”

“Tons! I’ve got a whole list back in my room.”

Hajime nods. “Iruma, Keebo, Momota, Shuichi, Akamatsu, Hoshi, Chabashira. Would that be all?”

“…I was lying. I wouldn’t be caught dead befriending those dipshits.”  A dull clank reaches Kokichi’s ears. “Did you hear something?”

Hajime tilted his head. “No?”

Kaede cursed silently in the lockers. Shuichi’s heartbeat at a pace far beyond normal. Both had (literal) knee-jerk reactions to Hajime’s insinuation and Kokichi’s trash-talk.  

“Must’ve been in my head.” Kokichi shrugged. “What were we talking about?”

“Friends.”

“Oh right. By the way, Keebo? Have you seen what I do to that useless robot?”

“He’s filed many complaints.” Hajime muttered. “I’m going on a limb here, but do you have a problem with machines?”

“Too many to list. But none of them apply. Keebo’s just too pathetic, he’s begging me to pick him apart. Figuratively of course.” The devious grin said otherwise.

“Of course.” Hajime’s pen moved. “What about Shuichi? I recall you showing an interest in him back at the Christmas party.”

“It’s more him that prowls around me isn’t it?”

He noticed – Shuichi’s breath hitched.

Kokichi continued. “Either way, I appreciate it. If there wasn’t some resistance whenever I pulled off a new scheme, it’d be boring.”

 “You don’t have friends in school and claim to have none outside it. What’s the appeal to being the outcast?”

 “I just am. It’s always been this way.” Kokichi shrugged.

Hajime went silent.

 “Or who knows I might be lying. Maybe I do like those guys, and maybe I’m suuuper popular after all.”

““Not likely.”” The peanut gallery whispered inside the locker.

“I’d be happy if that was the case. Otherwise, I can’t see the sensibility in ruling over people you don’t appreciate.” Hajime advised.

“Only evil men can rule the world anyway. Not giving a shit about the people – is like, a requirement.” Kokichi’ grin dripped with malice. “But you’d know all about that. How about giving your successor some actually useful advice?”

Hajime folded his arms. “Oh? What would my cute junior like to know?”

 “Nishishi. A few tips here, opinions there - Like how’d It feel when you took over the world?” Kokichi dramatized his question by launching the ball like a missile towards Hajime.

A harsh smack reverberated across the room, as the older man caught the projectile.

Hajime holds the ball lower, blinking slowly. “Boring.” He says, after a time.

“Bummer.” Kokichi deflated.

“The beginning was promising, however, in the end, the world was better the way it used to be.”

“That’s one hell of a cost for a pointless lesson.”

“People do desperate things for excitement. For men like us, boredom is the worst poison. Like you, I lacked the maturity to put up with it at the time.” Hajime’s lax tone has slowed. A drollness now accompanied his voice. “Some of the staff are under the impression you commit acts of mischief for attention. For ordinary boys your age, that might be the case. But I know better, because I saw the world the same way you do. You’re thrill-seeking.”

“Well duh. Why do you think I’m here!?” Kokichi dramatically spread his arms wide. “Head counsellor or not, I’d have blown you off if I thought you were boring. How’d a filthy despair like you even get such a cushy job instead of hanging like you deserve?”

Hajime turned stone-faced.

Kokichi reverted to an innocuous expression. “Those are what the rumors say anyway, but I hate them since they turn out to be lies.”

 “And you hate lies.” The red-eyed man said sarcastically.

“I can’t pull a fast one on you, Haji.” Kokichi rested his arms behind his head.

 “To answer your question, I had connections…and a lot of goodwill.”

“Must’ve been some serious goodwill to overlook you helping that woman kill thousands of those innocent, talentless suckers. How do you live with yourself?” Kokichi leaned forward, both hands on his lap. There was an innocent curiosity beneath the malicious smile.

Hajime closed his eyes. “Very well. it’s better you vent your frustrations on me than to bottle them or project on the undeserving.”

“…”

 “I had years to reflect on my mistakes. Getting stationed at all required Makoto’s backing and evidence of brainwashing; both the videos and helmets administered on children. However, even that in addition to a public explanation of what the old Hope’s Peak did to me, was only enough to earn lenience, not forgiveness. I wasn’t even the most active despair. If some of my friends were in my shoes at the time, they’d be shot down on the spot.”

“Figuratively, I’m sure.”

“Who knows? It’s in the past regardless. I merely showed them I was worth keeping around based on merit. The awards you passed by are proof of my achievements” 

Kokichi’s snakelike grin was wide enough to slip off both corners of his face. “The world is so simple, and so stupid. Prove that you’re better than everyone else, and all is forgiven.”

“You ought to be intelligent enough to not make me repeat myself: I was not forgiven.” Hajime corrected. “Those environing me adapted. If there was forgiveness, it wasn’t communicated between us. And that is fine by me. Forgiveness is neither what I deserve nor need.”

Hajime brought his arm backwards and threw the ball back at Kokichi, who winced as he received the item. The force of the throw had the boy stumbling backwards.

Hajime continued “Forgiveness is given. Seek it out and you have gone in circles. I was saved a long time ago, so it doesn’t concern me.”

“And who could this oh-so-convenient-saint be?”

“Your teacher. If you’ve ever attended class, you’d have met at least once.”

Kokichi’s face contorts with disgust. “Komaru-chan? Really?”

“Despite my crimes, that woman never confronted me with them. She looked through all that, loved me for the person I am and gave me a family.” The monotone in his voice dissipated, replaced by a hearty smile. “So I made a promise to myself, not to show this lame side to anyone I consider family. For them, I would do anything, and I am capable of many things.”

Kokichi suppressed the slight chill that ran up his spine. “I knew Komaru was dumb, but not that dumb. She’s the kind of dumbass that harbors escaped killers and thinks she can redeem them.” Kokichi cupped his mouth and stomach, faking a barfing motion.

Hajime laughed at the insult directed to both him and his spouse. “Haha, I bet she’d want you to think that. Those Naegis are deceptively easy to underestimate…but they are the strongest people I know.”

“That’s really all? Just having one fool to stick up for you when you fuck up? Talk about boring.” All trace of emotion was wiped off Kokichi’s face. His voice almost achieved the same level of monotone Hajime’s had prior. Almost. Where Hajime was entirely neutral, Kokichi retained a disdainful undertone. “Imagine hitting the jackpot with a ditz that doesn’t care that you were in bed with the worst woman in history, then bragging about having no regrets. I wonder what would happen if this little conversation of ours got out somehow.”

Hajime calmly responded to the threat. “I only divulged this information because I know it can’t backfire on me. Who would take a chronic liar’s word over mine?”

“…”

Hajime sighed happily. “To tell the truth, listening day in and day out to mundane problems…I’d gotten tired of it.  It’s nice change of pace, coming out about these dark issues I usually keep bottled up. Thanks for that.”

Kokichi’s expression remained blank.

“That was a lie.” Hajime laughed nervously.

“Nishishi, when you lay it on that thick, an expert liar can easily tell.” Kokichi’s eyes glimmered with mischief, his usual jubilance returned. “But even if you weren’t, you’d be wrong. I’m sure Naegi’s soft enough to believe me.”

Hajime’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Kokichi to be the one to bring Makoto up. “That’s true. Even when everyone else turns their back on you…or if you turned your back on everyone, he’s always there to lend a hand.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Kokichi retorted.

“Makoto’s not perfect. But if he knew there was something wrong, there’s nobody who’d try harder to make it right.”

“That’s time.” Kokichi said, without looking at the clock. “This was fun, but even an evil supreme leader on vacation™ has to be busier than lounging around with a shrink all day.”

“I’m not a therapist and I didn’t talk this long for my sake.” Hajime repeats. “I just wanted you to know that if even I can be accepted and loved by someone, you of all people can have it too.”

…

“Heh…” Kokichi’s shoulders shook, his giggles spilled into delightful laughter.

He mockingly wiped a tear from his eye when he settled. “Oh man, have you got the wrong idea. I told you I came here because I was a little interested. I won’t speak for my sister, but I am not a charity case who needs comforting! What happened in the past is none of my business.”

Hajime frowned, but nodded all the same. “If that’s your choice, I’ll respect it.” He left his desk and walked over to Kokichi. The older rests his hand over Kokichi’s head, ruffling the purple tresses. “If you need anything, drop by and see me. You’re welcome any time.”

Kokichi scrambled out of the caress. Once free, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Whatever. Can I go now?”

“Sure. Right to class. I’ll be your escort.”

“Boo. You’re using me an excuse to see Komaru-chan.”

“Partly.”

“At least you’re honest. So next time I come over, gimme that rubix cube. Bet I can get it done in under 2 minutes.”

“Not bad. That’s only 10 seconds shorter than my oldest son’s record. Maybe you could tutor him.”

“…Hard pass.”

Once the voices were far enough away, the locker opened. Shuichi and Kaede promptly exited.

“Haaa…it was waaaay too hot in there!” Kaede flapped her hand against her face to cool off. “Shuichi?” She addressed the silent detective.

“…Did you make out what they said?” Shuichi asked.

The blonde shook her head. “I lost track…but it sounded really serious after a while. Wait, Kokichi has a sister?”

“They also mentioned despair and Kokichi – both of them, sounded involved.” Shuichi murmured. He’d heard the rumors, but could it really have been true? He didn’t figure Hajime to be that sort of person.

“…We should leave before Hinata-sensei gets back.”

“Just one minute.” Shuichi spotted the man’s notepad on the desk. Besides it was a picture frame of Hajime, Komaru and their two boys. All of whom Shuichi was well-acquainted with.

He breathed a sigh and opened the book.

“Is that really a good idea?” A voice stops Shuichi’s inquisitive hands in their tracks. The duo turns to see Hajime in front of the door, eyebrow raised.

“H-Hinata-sensei. T-This isn’t what it looks like.” Kaede raised her hands placatively.

“So…you weren’t hiding in the locker, listening to a very private conversation against school and legal regulations?”

“Um…when you put it that way, you make it sound like you knew.” The pianist slides past the repercussions.

“I did. It was a bit late to tell you to come out though. Unless you felt like being blackmailed by Kokichi.”

“We’re really sorry about this!” Kaede bowed her head.

Hajime closed his eyes briefly, then turned to the detective. “What about you, Shuichi?”

“What’s your relationship with Kokichi?”  The detective inquired.

“Client information is strictly confidential.”

“I’m sorry but it sounded like you two went beyond professional relationships.” Shuichi didn’t back down

Hajime raked his hands through his hair. “I usually go about my sessions a lot differently, but Kokichi’s different from everyone else. He won’t respond to impersonality or weakness. If he’s not interested in you, you’ll get nothing out of him.”

“Is that an admission that you were faking most of that conversation?”

“You’re free to think that.” Hajime said.

“Shuichi, you’re being rude.” Kaede chastised him with a gentle (punch) tap.

“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things.” Shuichi rubbed his stinging shoulder.

“What ‘things’? Why have you been investigating Kokichi?” Hajime asked.

Shuichi stays silent.

“You really think you’re in the position to be defiant here?” Hajime reminded the younger detective of his situation.

Shuichi jerked. “It’s a job I took from Kyoko.”

“The vice-principal- that Kirigiri-san told you to investigate Kokichi?” Kaede gaped. What little she knew of the lavender-haired woman was that she had a strict, no-nonsense persona. To ask Shuichi to observe a classmate sounded…over the top.

Unless she had a very good reason.

“Kyoko…It can’t be helped then. I’ll overlook this intrusion so long as neither of you spread a word of what you heard here.” Hajime demanded. Shuichi was about to open his mouth before Hajime cut him off with a raised hand. “Although, any deductions you make outside my explicit conversation with Kokichi…is none of my business.”

Shuichi relented. That was a fine compromise.                                                                                      

“Following that. I guess I can answer your first question properly.” Hajime started. “Kokichi a funny kid, in a lot of ways. He reminds me of an annoying friend of mine that I couldn’t leave alone. That…and I we are brothers in a way.” Hajime chuckled at the unrestrained shock from the teens’ faces. “No. Not by blood but our origins are similar. You could say I know where he’s coming from and can’t leave him alone either.”

Hajime’s explanation only served to heighten Shuichi’s anxiety. That is, if those ‘origins’ were what the detective assumed. “Um…you talked about being part of despair. Was that, the SHSL Despair?”

Hajime moved past Shuichi to his desk, picking up the frame. “If you heard that, then you also heard the end. Shuichi, you’re family too.”

…

Shuichi lowered his head in shame at the sincerity. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got over me.”

…

“Don’t worry about it. If you didn’t go this far, I’m not sure you’d belong in this school.” Hajime joked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Shuichi said.

“Also. Lay off Kokichi for a bit. He might come across like a pain in the ass, but deep down, he’s not so bad.”

“Is that intuition?” Shuichi pressed a finger to his chin.

“Deduction. Whenever I meet someone for the first time - regardless of age, their eyes usually end up here.” Hajime points to his red eye. “You’re one of the few exceptions. You nervously hid behind Makoto. I don’t think you even noticed.”

“That sounds like our Shuichi alright.” Kaede giggled behind her hand.

Shuichi groaned.

“Kokichi was the same. You’re both total chickens, too preoccupied with protecting yourselves to look me in the eye.” Hajime smirked. “You’ve grown up now, but he’s still a kid. Treat him like one.”

“I mean, even if he looks like he’s in elementary school, he’s only a little younger than me.” Kaede muttered.

“Trust me on this. If you want to tame him, you have to think of him like a child. What do children respect?”

“Mature and reliable adults.” Kaede answered when something clicked.

“Kaito’s disqualified then.” Shuichi added, evoking a laugh from the girl.

Hajime pushed both their shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. Do your flirting elsewhere. This mature and reliable adult has about 6 minutes till his next appointment.”

“Sorry.”  “We’ll get out of your hair.”

They scurried away and out of his office. He shut the door behind them, leaving him to a much-appreciated silence.

“That class is a handful.” He sighed, sitting down as he was left to his own thoughts. Hajime opens his notebook, skimming through the points he’d written down in the conversation. He stops near the end. His thoughts flew to the brief tangent he and Kokichi had gone off to earlier. Where the boy had made a wild assumption

 “‘bragging about having no regrets’ huh.” How could he not have any? They were never-ending. So many cases where he could have done ‘something’ and chose not to, leading to the worst scenario. Among those many cases, if Hajime had a regret that was particularly damning,

 “It’s that I didn’t save you two when I had the chance.” Hajime sighed deeply, he motioned to peer out his office window. The memorial stands tall in the back of the school – An entire sector of gravestones, statues and spires, engraved with the names of all those who passed away within the academy’s halls.

Hajime had designed and built it all from scratch, surrounding them by the cherry-blossom trees he had cultivated and helped grow.

 “Better late than never.”

July 2021

“Those idiots don’t have no respect for the delicate word ‘no’.” Toko said, though the jab at her friends was light, the suspicion in her eyes towards him was transparently heavy.

Hajime looked to the ▇▇▇▇▇ statue. From that position ‘it’ faced at the Naegi siblings in that trademark pose of hers. With an intake of breath, Hajime approached it. Toko’s gaze trailed his every step until he stood in front of the effigy.

He was about the same level with the object; A replica of an important person Hajime wished he’d never known and could forget. Paradoxically, part of him wanted to immortalize her so he wouldn’t. After all…he’d never been brainwashed to despair. That part – Izuru Kamukura – was still him. Still obsessed with the despair queen’s wicked smile.

…In the end, his ability to read ▇▇▇▇▇ ‘s thoughts were little better than what he could gleam from this inanimate figure.

He angled a closed fist to the idol’s chest and in a single blow...shattered the construct. The force and shock had large chunks crashing on the floor. Only the legs remained standing when all was said and done.

He exhaled and examined his work. He was drawn to the fractured stone head, partly intact.

Realization struck Izuru like lightning. He was shown a mysterious, literally broken sneer. It was only in that moment that Izuru felt his art complete. In destruction – in those shattered remnants, bared ▇▇▇▇▇’s true essence.

...

...

"Ha...hahaha." Izuru Kamukura expressed a gentle, relieved display of mirth. He laughed for the first and final time.

I had forgotten.

▇▇▇▇▇  ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ never truly smiled, wicked or otherwise.

You too were…

 “Hajime…” Makoto’s concerned voice snapped the older male out of a trance. The brunet shifted his gaze between Hajime and the broken statue. Like before, Makoto expressed an assortment of emotions, notably worry. Fitting for a man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Is this better?” Hajime rubbed his bruised hand, distracting him from how little sense his explanation made.

“You didn’t have to…” Makoto trailed off. “Never mind. Are you okay?”

He wondered that himself. The numbness in his hand is a distant sensation compared to the contradictory emotions stirring in his heart:

A sense of accomplishment as a decade long search ended with the answer he sought, like weighted stone lifted from his shoulders.

The feeling of shame at his incorrigibility for taking so long. He had no right to criticize Mukuro, when they'd both been blind dependents.

“Have you ever figured out the answer to a question way too late for it to be useful?” Hajime asked with a bitter smile.

There was a pregnant pause drawn out by Makoto and Toko’s pensiveness.

Thus, Komaru was the fastest to reply. “Oooh, that’s the worst! Like when I wrote a test and only remembered the correct answers after I handed in my papers.”

…

Three sets of incredulous stares fell on Komaru.

“Soooo not the mood we were going for.” Toko looked amazed at her friend’s stupidity.

“You don’t know that. Stop thinking I’m stupid, Toko.” 

“You did a good enough job revealing that yourself.” Hajime blinked in wonderment

Komaru groaned. “I guess I felt dumb at the time, but once those answers were stuck in my head, I never made the same mistake again.”

 “Komaru’s right.” Makoto said. “Better late than never. It’s all we can do to keep moving forward with hope in our hearts.”

“That’s…a little simple.” Toko said skeptically.

He agreed. That solution was radically optimistic,

However

“I don’t dislike it.”