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Himiko has the vague sense that she’s forgetting something important as she wakes up, warm both from the sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and the girl spooning her from behind.
It’s not urgent enough of a feeling to convince Himiko to rouse herself immediately, so she just ignores it for the moment, yawning, snuffling, and snuggling back into Kaede’s embrace, drinking in the peaceful quiet of the morning, listening to the faint sound of birdsong from outside their window. This is nice. Himiko goes to bed early, most nights, because that’s just how the hypersomniac life goes, but when she wakes up in the morning Kaede is always holding her. It’s one of those things she can always depend on, those consistent parts of their routine that, no matter what, never change.
In another lifetime, one where Kaede was really a pianist, and where Himiko was really a magician, maybe this wouldn’t be so routine. They both have all these memories, of touring the world, performing, sleeping in new beds every other week. It was an exhilarating lifestyle, that Himiko remembers, and she remembers liking it, as well, being passionate about it, wanting to continue doing it for the rest of her life, but…
Those are just memories. And they aren’t even Himiko’s memories, just… memories that were given to her by the people who ruined her life, and killed her girlfriend, all those years ago. Himiko frowns, her eyes reluctantly cracking open, laying the side of her head down on the pillow and releasing a breath. It’s too early and too nice to be thinking about Team Danganronpa right now, but the thoughts are… inexplicable, and it’s hard to get her mind off of it. She should get up and make breakfast. Kaito’s been coming over a lot recently to help her learn how to cook-- because Kaede’s a disaster in the kitchen, and well, one of them has to-- and Himiko has a lot of breakfast recipes she’s been wanting to use.
But… mmm. Himiko leans back into Kaede’s arms some more, frowning. Something keeps her in bed, listening to the birds sing, looking at the sky through the gap between their drapes, watching clouds slowly roll by overhead. Her phone is blinking on the nightstand, and Himiko thinks it’s maybe just close enough for her to reach out and grab it. She’s not sure if she wants to, for a moment, but eventually she sighs and nabs the device, scanning the tip of her finger and unlocking it.
She has a few missed calls from Tenko, and Kaito, and the Season 53 group chat is busier than Himiko remembers it being for a while. Not that Himiko doesn’t like keeping in touch with her friends-- she does, and the lot of them understand her more than some people ever will, but… sometimes interacting with them can be painful, can remind her of the game, of losing the people she loved, of realising everything she remembers is a lie, and… well, Himiko knows at least how to moderate the time she spends with them so she doesn’t go crazy. That’s the most she can ask for right now.
Huffing a little in exasperation-- really, who likes waking up to a hundred and forty nine messages from a group message?-- as she clicks on the notification. What’s the big deal…? Is it that thing that Himiko is forgetting?
It’s when Himiko reads Shuichi’s message at the very beginning of the conversation, calling attention to the date, that she realises, and she opens the calendar app on her phone, just to double check, as her heart skips a beat.
Today is August 3rd, which makes it the five year anniversary of when Shuichi finally got the CEO of Team Danganronpa sent to prison for the rest of his life, thoroughly dismantling the organisation once and for good and penalising everyone else who was complicit in their torture, their suffering, and the pain of hundreds of kids for half a century. It was a group effort, of course, and Shuichi will still insist that all of them had a part of it-- and that’s not a lie, exactly, though some people (like Kokichi) certainly pulled their weight on it more than others-- but right from when he woke up from the simulation, it was Shuichi who really held them all together, who kept everyone from giving up on putting Danganronpa to rest for good.
“They’ll do it again,” Shuichi was always saying. “If we stand aside and let them keep existing, and let people forget? Then they’ll do it again. We have to stop them permanently.”
Himiko… hadn’t wanted to help, very much, hadn’t wanted to keep at it in the obsessive way that Shuichi did, where he pored over legal documents until the early hours of the morning, until Kaito had to coax him back to their room with a mug of warm milk and a blanket, but it was Kaede’s reluctance to participate that really fueled Himiko’s own resolve.
The Kaede that Himiko remembered from the simulation was bold and optimistic and full of energy. She was affectionate and friendly and overwhelming, at times, but she wasn’t stifling in that way that Tenko could be, so Himiko liked her. She was sweet, and her voice sounded like music.
When she got out, she was… still all of those things, Himiko thinks. Kindhearted and brave and friendly. But she was also… tired, and sad, and a bit cynical, and she confided to Himiko in secret one night after another one of Shuichi’s pep talks that she didn’t want to pursue Team Danganronpa anymore, that she didn’t want to keep fighting. She just wanted to lay herself down and give up. She’d teared up speaking about it, anxious about letting everyone down, scared that even Himiko was going to judge her for those feelings, like she was somehow less Akamatsu Kaede just because she was human.
And it wasn’t like… Himiko wanted to inspire Kaede, or anything. The idea was more to get so gung ho about taking down Team Danganronpa that nobody noticed if Kaede stepped back a bit from her normal position in the group, to breathe, to heal, to exist without the crushing weight of all their combined expectations. (There’s nothing crueler you can do to a person than turn them into a martyr, Himiko’s found; and she learned that the hard way with Kaito, hearing him tell Shuichi between rasping coughs that he’s not really a hero, and with Tenko, who despite how much she adored her still had every trait that she found annoying in the simulation outside of it.)
But after a while, Kaede perked herself back up, and bounced back, and came back to life stronger than ever. Himiko was glad to have been able to get her a little breather, so she could feel more like herself again, but… Kaede told her, a while later, on the balcony of their shared home before they kissed for the first time, that it was Himiko who gave her the courage to be more like herself again, to keep fighting until the end.
That made it worth it, really. More than worth it.
Himiko sends a confetti emoji, and then returns her phone to the nightstand, rolling over onto her other side to face Kaede. She’s just in time, too, because as Himiko gets comfortable again, Kaede’s nose scrunches in that way it always does before she wakes up, and a yawn leaves her, soft and melodic as it always is.
Smiling, Himiko leans closer to plant a kiss on Kaede’s forehead. “Morning, sleepy.”
“Mmmmm, Himiko,” Kaede’s voice is groggy, thick still with sleep. “You’re up early.”
“You haven’t seen a clock yet,” Himiko giggles.
“Feels early,” Kaede grumbles. Her plum eyes flutter open, darting around the room until they focus on Himiko. “Y’okay? You didn’t have a nightmare or anything, right?”
“No,” Himiko shakes her head. “I didn’t.” She pauses. “It’s been five years, though.”
Kaede’s eyes widen the slightest bit, and she smiles, small at first, but then stretching across her features, lighting up her entire expression. “How are you feeling?” she asks, and Himiko can hear the joy in her voice, even as she tries to suppress it.
After a moment to consider, Himiko says, “Good,” and she means it, so she adds, “real good. Really good.”
“Me too,” Kaede’s smile softens, and her eyes half lid, and Himiko tilts up her face to catch Kaede’s lips when they come closer.