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Hajime Hinata wakes up.
Two people wake up with him.
Not outside the pods, no. Rather, inside his pod. Inside his mind. They wake up, quiet, tucked away in the corners. Unobtrusive, hidden from view. Hajime has no way of knowing they're there.
No way of knowing you're there.
Why would he think you're there, after all? He chose to be himself again. He forsook you the moment he chose the future. Not quite Hope, no capital H, but hope. A desire to continue on, no matter what.
As far as he knows, you disappeared. Not a never-were, but a once-was, never-again. An identity to toss to the side, abandon, condemning what he considers his past to move forward. A piece of Hajime Hinata that doesn’t need to exist, not anymore.
Which would be fine, if you’d died like everyone else seems to have wanted you to. A world hoping for your disintegration, ashes the only remnants of your Despair, and a return to what they would consider fair.
[Don’t let others’ opinions convince you that you can’t change too, Izuru.]
With the thought, Chiaki Nanami fades into view, and smiles at you from her corner of the mindscape. The two of you sitting in a barren room, though she’s got the neon glow of a DS screen lighting her face. This was unexpected. The third occupant of this mind, besides you and the one who came before.
How…. Interesting.
This is something new. Something no one here saw coming. A spark of intrigue to light the synapses in your brain, to cure the incessant everpresent boredom of understimulation.
“What expectations would you have of me if I cared, Chiaki Nanami? Would I wrest control of the body by force once more, wreak havoc on the world? Enoshima’s Despair lost that war, and again, I find myself growing bored.”
Sounds of Pokemon echo, quiet, as she doesn’t look up from her device. It takes her a second, before she responds. Mouth moving, though that’s hardly important in this space between the two of you. “We aren’t going to be able to hide forever. I won’t tell him about you if you don’t want to be found, but we will be found… I think. I think it would do us all good to talk, and understand each other.”
You snort, idly brush a strand of hair from your face. “What? Let him use me to help his friends, and then tuck me back here once that’s done, never to see the light of day again?”
Pink meets red, as her eyes meet yours. Not harsh, never harsh, but firm. “You don’t get to hide from everyone, from what you’ve done, just because he’s in control again. You live here too.”
And that…. Maybe it’s a threat. It could be. Though she wouldn’t be able to enforce it.
(Or would she? You’d be better off, not underestimating her. The fusion of her and your Other managed to break the simulation, after all.)
“That would require being trusted enough to be given control. For all my many talents, I doubt I could convince anyone of safety in that.” With a shift, you find yourself sitting in a chair. Better than the floor.
“You don’t need talent. Talent is not what should define a person.” The game falls silent, as she closes the DS. “No matter what anyone else thinks, you’re a person.”
“I’m the science experiment that doomed the world,” you say with a huff. What could be a laugh, for you. “I think our Hajime claimed all the personhood.”
“That’s not true.”
The force of her determination hits you. Makes you stumble, almost makes your chair disappear as you lose focus. A wave of absolute belief in this truth. Not absolution, not for your crimes, nor theirs, but rather faith in you.
“It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re you. No one else. What caused your creation was horrible, but you have every right to your existence.” Her mouth is a grim line etched on her face, as she speaks. “They hurt you just as much as they hurt him.”
You go to refute her, claim that you haven’t been hurt, but… You stop.
The self is fragile. It is far easier to see the flaws in others, and the harm caused to them, rather than acknowledge your own bleeding wounds.
Hope’s Peak wanted their perfect creation, and they got you. Treated you like an experiment, not a person, and left you to rot in that room whenever it wasn’t time to dazzle the people who saw you as their newest shiny toy.
No wonder you thought Despair and death would be better than that deprivation--
“Stop poking at what is mine.”
Chiaki laughs, soft, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry. You needed the help, though… I think. Sometimes it’s hard to see the picture you paint, because the self is too close to the image.”
The presence leaning against your part of the mind eases off, and leaves you to your own thoughts.
Leaves you with a path you haven’t explored yet.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s not. Either way, the questions she’s posed are interesting. Firefly lights in the dark of an unmapped forest. Not enough to give you the picture, no. You have to put that work in yourself.
She smiles, and goes back to her game. Leaves you to your contemplation.
At the very least, she’s given you something with which to pass the time.