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Izuru has seen beaches before.
He’s stood on rocky shorelines and watched black waves roil under blood red skies. He’s seen those same waves crash onto jagged cliffs and batter bodies smeared across the rocks. He’s seen seaform churn with dust and ash and plastic, watched the smoke of an oil fire rise off the coast like the black shadow of death. He knows the sewage stench of the water, the crunch of trash under his heels along the shore, the desolate coastlines dead and abandoned.
“So… in other words, you haven’t really seen a beach,” Koizumi concludes.
He scowls. “I just explained the exact opposite to you.”
“Don’t snap at her!” Saionji whacks the back of his head with an open palm. “And stop squirming so much, you’re messing me up.”
Izuru fidgets, but obediently keeps his head still at her request. Her fingers tug at his hair, which falls just below his ears.
Koizumi gives him a pointed look. “Hinata says you have to get out more, and honestly, I think he’s got the right idea. I mean, look at you. You’re brooding.”
“I do not—“
Saionji yanks his head back, leaning over his shoulder. “Brooding is putting it mildly. You’re kind of a whole emo freak.” She lets go of his hair. “I’m done, by the way.” As soon as he’s free, Izuru pulls sharply away, putting a hand against his head. Several flowery clips adorn his hair, pulling his bangs out of his face.
Saionji stands, patting her hands as if she’s just finished touching something dirty. She prances over to where Koizumi sits, leaning down to plant a kiss against her forehead before casting a glare at Izuru, as if daring him to say something. He, of course, does not. She sticks her tongue out at him anyway, circling around their table and making her way to the outside door.
Izuru waits for her footsteps to trail down the stairs before turning his attention back to Koizumi. “I do not brood,” he insists. “I simply find little reason to be ‘out and about.’ Especially since I do not spend much time at the front, anyway.”
“Isn’t that the problem though?” she asks, fiddling with her camera. “You lock yourself away, and even when you are out, no one gets to see you.”
“No one here needs to see me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Talking like that is exactly why Hiyoko calls you an emo freak.”
“It’s simply the truth.”
He moves to brush his hair behind his ear, only to find that it’s too short to do so. Awkwardly, he puts his hand back down. Koizumi tilts her head at him questioningly.
“He’s cut it since the last time I was out,” Izuru explains stiffly. Of course. Hinata couldn’t seem to stand to keep it long, the way Izuru had kept it.
Koizumi purses her lips together. “You don’t like it like this?”
“I have no preference, personally. It wouldn’t matter if I did. This body is his.”
She frowns. “But it’s yours too, isn’t it?”
The truth would make her unhappy, so he stays quiet. She sighs. Izuru thinks it is a rather exaggerated response to the situation. “Well, maybe today will give you some perspective.” She pats his hand in what he finds a rather condescending manner. “We’re meeting on the beach in an hour. Make sure to be there, ‘kay?”
“...Okay.”
She collects her camera from the table, standing. “Perfect. Oh! And one more thing.” She holds the lens to her eye. “Smile!”
Izuru doesn’t. Koizumi’s mouth twists unhappily behind her camera, but the flash goes off anyway. After putting the camera down, her hands find her hips.
She shakes her head. “Brooding.”
Without giving him a chance to protest, she turns for the restaurant door herself, following Saionji’s path out. Izuru watches it swing shut behind her.
He barely has a moment to breathe before the opposite door, the one to the lobby, opens. Mioda dances in, strumming her fingers wildly through the air like she’s playing guitar, although she stops when she sees Izuru. With a dramatic gasp, she bounds to where he’s sitting. “Oh my my my! Is that Izuru-chan?”
He nods tentatively.
“I have something for you!”
A sort of vague curiosity settles over him as he watches her pull a pair of large, reflective sunglasses off from where they’re hanging on the front of her shirt. The frames are chunky, deep purple with thick pink stripes around the temples.
With the same elegance with which one may crown a king, she fits the glasses on his face. They’re so big that they immediately slide down his nose.
“...I...don’t need these,” he tells her, reaching to take them off, only to be stopped by her hand on his wrist.
She leans her weight onto his arm, pinning it against the table while she shakes her head. “Come on, you gotta wear them, Izuru-chan. For the look!”
“The… look?”
“Yeah! Like, there’s no better way to be all dark and brooding at the beach than with some cool shades. They make you look all“ –she lets him go in favor of waggling her fingers in the air– ”mysterious.”
“Does everyone on this island think I’m brooding?” he asks abruptly.
Mioda shrugs. “Aren’t you?”
“I don’t brood.”
“Whatever you say, Izuru-chan! Do you like ‘sulk’ better? Or what about ‘languish?’”
“I don’t do those either.”
In the end, he keeps wearing the sunglasses. Even though he has to push them back up his nose every few minutes and has to squint to see clearly in the kitchen’s mellow lighting. He’s helping prepare the barbecue for that night, on top of ignoring the muttered comments Hanamura keeps making involving all the supposed “attention” Izuru is getting.
Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama stop by to pick up the drink coolers to take to the beach, and Kuzuryuu seems to do an entire triple-take upon seeing Izuru. The pair enter and exit a few times as Izuru skewers the meat, and he’s acutely aware he’s being watched the entire time.
Finally, Kuzuryuu comes back in the kitchen only to hover at Izuru’s back. “Okay,” he sighs. “I’m gonna bite the bullet and ask. What’s with the tacky shades?”
“Mioda gave them to me,” Izuru explains, having anticipated the question. He places the next completed skewer down on the tray before glancing at Kuzuryuu. “Do you not find them befitting?”
Kuzuryuu inspects him for a moment, rolling his tongue in his mouth. Izuru expects he’s trying to work out what to say without offending him. Though instead of some awkward, uncertain compliment, Kuzuryuu nods with a surprising amount of conviction.
“You know what? Yeah. They’re befitting as fuck.”
Pekoyama peeks in through the doorway, where she’d been very obviously eavesdropping. “Incredibly befitting,” she adds.
Kuzuryuu nods again. “Yeah, yeah, but uh, one thing.” He reaches out hesitantly, grabbing the frames and moving the glasses up to rest on Izuru’s head. He pulls back, looking satisfied. “Put ‘em back on when you get outside. Can’t imagine it’s easy to see like that.”
“Trying to charm him?” Hanamura asks mischievously from the other side of the kitchen.
“Keep your nasty thoughts to yourself, dickhead,” Kuzuryuu spits.
He holds his hands up placatingly “Just teasing! Just teasing.”
Kuzuryuu scoffs. “Right.” He glances back at Izuru like he’s going to say something else, but apparently decides against it, heading out to join Pekoyama instead.
While he’s washing up, Hanamura sidles up against the counter, propping an elbow up onto it. He has a hand towel over his arm, which he passes to Izuru as he finishes.
“Go on out an’ get some sun, handsome. I’ll see you at dinner tonight, won’t I?”
Izuru stares blankly into the suds swirling in the sink. “Sure.”
Izuru doesn’t have his own clothes, so he little choice other than to wear Hinata’s. A pair of swim shorts and a patterned short-sleeve button up are laid out on the bed of his cottage, so he changes into those before heading out.
The entire first island smells of ocean, but the sea salt scent gets particularly strong as he follows the road from the hotel down to the beach. It is pleasant and biting and a far cry from the sulfury smell the rest of the world’s oceans had. At least, as far as Izuru had experienced in his lifetime.
That was of course in no small part thanks to Souda’s continued efforts in constructing various filtration devices for both the air and surrounding ocean, as well as the group’s joint effort at cleaning the island of debris.
When the survivors had first awoken, the island was practically a ghost town, and now it was a thriving community. Izuru hasn’t explored outside of the central island firsthand, but he knows the ex-Remnants refurbishing efforts expend to the entire archipelago.
The ocean sparkles blue under the clear sky, and Izuru stops on the precipice, where the road meets sand, to examine it for a moment.
He was born into a world of white walls and wires and surgical tools against his scalp. He was released into a world of war, destruction, and despair, where he’d expected to die. To awaken from the Neo World Program was rebirth. A new life, one he could lead from the depths of another’s mind.
This was not what he was made for. He was not made for soft sand and pretty skies and to be cradled by the sway of the ocean. He’s a fragment, a void, an identity that exists within the absence of another. The low tide pulls at the shore, and Izuru loses interest; he’s not meant to be here, he—
“Yo dude, how fast is your brain moving?” Owari’s voice breaks through his thoughts. She slaps him on the shoulder as she passes him, stepping onto the sand. “Steam’s gonna come out of your ears if you think too hard.”
Izuru looks blankly at her. She’s barefoot, seemingly unbothered by the heat, wearing a tight racing suit with her hair free. It takes a moment for him to realize she’s looking at him for a response.
“I was pondering my existence,” he says.
“Sounds boring. It’ll be more fun if you come and hang out with everyone.” She grins at him. “Whaddya say?”
Izuru looks down. The line between road and beach is a hard edge. He closes his eyes for a moment, reveling in the darkness. Then, he says, “Okay,” and steps down onto the sand.
He follows Owari as she approaches where several towels and chairs have been set up under a large beach umbrella. Tsumiki sits alone in the shade. There’s a book sitting open in her lap, but it looks somewhat abandoned as she watches the ocean nervously. There’s a whistle on a chain around her neck, and a flotation buoy at her side.
“Heya!” Owari greets, and Tsumiki nearly jumps out of her skin with a startled squeak, the jerk of her motion kicking up the front legs of her seat. Faster than any of them can blink, Izuru is at her back, grabbing the chair to keep it from falling over.
“Careful,” he warns.
“A-Ah! Kamukura-san!” Tsumiki goes beet red. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
He nudges the chair back on the ground, not bothering with a response to the unnecessary apology.
“You playing life guard?” Owari asks, pointing at the buoy. Tsumiki nods.
“Yes, I-I’m on duty! A-And it’s an absolute honor!”
Izuru looks out into the shallows, where it seems only Koizumi and Saionji are actually swimming.
“Woah, easy day then I guess,” Owari makes the comment he was holding back. “Where’s everyone else?”
Tsumiki wrings her hands nervously. “Um… Impostor-san took some people out on their boat… A-And I think Kuzuryuu-san and Pekoyama-san went to help set up for the barbecue on the second island…”
Owari hollers. “Aw hell yeah! Beach to ourselves then!” She taps Izuru on the arm. “Come on, I’ll race you to the water.”
“You won’t win that,” he informs her.
“Wanna bet?”
“Ah, um—“ Tsumiki digs in the bag beside her seat, producing a bottle and standing to hold it out towards them. “Please make sure to put on sunscreen before you go.”
“Oh, no thanks.” Owari waves her off. “I don’t burn.”
“Th-The risk of skin cancer increases drastically with even just two bad sunburns early in life.”
Owari snorts. “I’m tellin’ you, I don’t burn.”
Tsumiki bites her lip, looking moments away from either yelling or bursting into tears. She thrusts the sunscreen bottle out again. “Then I-I’ll have to use my medical authority a-and insist!”
Before Owari can retort again, Izuru takes the bottle. Without a word, he applies an even coat, working it over his face and neck as well. When he’s done, he caps it and moves to hand it to Owari.
She frowns, eyeing it with displeasure. He raises an eyebrow at her. With a sigh, she relents, taking it reluctantly from his grip and stepping away to apply some herself.
Tsumiki beams. “Thank you, Kamukura-san!”
Not wasting a moment, Owari tosses the bottle back to Tsumiki as soon as she’s done. “Can we race now?”
Izuru stifles a sigh. “If you insist.”
He beats her to the water.
It’s only a short sprint, but enough to get the blood pumping. Owari takes a deep breath, stretching her arms up to loosen her shoulders as the tide rolls over their feet. “I’ll make sure to beat you next time,” she promises.
Izuru nods, even though he doesn’t particularly expect to ever do this again.
“Well, I’m gonna go do some laps around the island,” she says, giving him a parting wave as she wades farther into the sea. “See ya!”
A real spitfire, that one. She doesn’t even bother waiting for Izuru’s response before diving into the water. Not that he minds. It’s a bit cumbersome to keep up rather empty conversations anyway. Although, her exit does mean that he’s now left by himself on the shore.
Waves crash gently, cool water lapping at his ankles. He’d left his shoes by Tsumiki, and his bare feet sink into the softened sand. The sun glares bright overhead, and Izuru…
Well, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now.
He hears Koizumi laughing and glances over to see her pulling farther into the water with Saionji holding onto one arm. They must be talking about something, but even he can’t hear it over the churn of the waves. Past the shallows, Owari is a dark shape against the blue sea, surfacing every so often from a clunky freestyle as she begins her workout.
The tang of the ocean clogs his nose, and all of a sudden, Izuru wishes very much that he weren’t here. He wants Hinata to take over, wants to fade into the comfortable dormancy at the back of his mind.
Somehow, the prospect of spending the rest of the day this way seems more daunting than even the end of the world.
A wild shout shatters his thoughts, and Izuru straightens his back, listening to the drum of an engine and the sound of a boat tearing through water. Rounding the coast is a sleek black deckboat, cutting cleanly through the waves. It slows down to a cruise as it approaches, bobbing in the shallow water.
Even from a distance, Izuru can see Souda half-hanging over the side of the boat grimacing, face blanched.
“Dude, I’m seriously gonna be sick!” he shouts, clinging to the edge, his hair frizzed from the ocean spray.
“Not in my new boat you’re not,” Izuru hears Impostor say from the driver’s seat. The boat begins to float towards the short dock a bit farther down the beach.
Mioda pops up behind Souda, leaning on his back. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun, strands flying loose in the wind. “Aw don’t be such a baby,” she chides.
“Not helping,” Souda groans loudly in response.
Izuru approaches the dock to greet them, and Mioda must spot him then because she gasps, brightening immediately. She starts wavingso aggressively he thinks she might just fall out of the boat.
“Izuru-chan!” She makes a motion from the top of her head to the front of her face.
Carefully, Izuru slides down the sunglasses still perched on his head. She gives him two very excited thumbs up.
As soon as the boat is close enough, Souda staggers off and onto dry land, wobbling and clutching his stomach.
“I need to sit down,” he mumbles, pale even under the sunburn across his cheeks.
“Tsumiki is going to lecture you about sunscreen,” Izuru tells him. Souda gives him a half-hearted thumbs up before stumbling off the dock.
Meanwhile, Mioda steps off only to grab Izuru’s arm and pull him to the boat. “Come on come on, we’re gonna go another round!”
“Kamukura-kun, it’s good to see you,” Impostor says bemusedly, stilling the engine. “Are you alright with going for a ride?”
Anything would be better than standing on the beach and stewing in his thoughts. Unpeeling Mioda from his arm, Izuru nods.
Imposter grins. “Let’s go, then.”
They drive the boat out to open water, far enough that the shore is just a strip of white in Izuru’s view. Mioda sits up against the side of the boat the whole time, hands on the edge, with the same enthusiasm as a dog on a car trip. Impostor picks up speed quickly, clearly showing off the boat. Izuru has to squint as the wind buffets his face.
“So, Kamukura-kun. Have you been enjoying your day so far?” They ask.
“It has been adequate. I spent most of my morning assisting in the kitchen.”
“I’m sure everyone has been clambering to see you.”
“...Sort of.”
“Izuru-chan is a celebrity,” Mioda chimes, grinning at him. Izuru shrugs.
“I haven’t spoken with everyone yet. In fact…I have yet to see Komaeda at all today,” he notes, turning his face into the breeze.
“He might be helping with setup on the second island,” Imposter says, spinning the wheel and turning them sharply around the bend of the island. “I haven’t seen him either.”
“That’s cause they’ve been out here all day,” Mioda tells Izuru.
“Can you blame me? The motor upgrades were finally finished.” They speed up with a rev as if to prove it. Mioda whoops, pumping both fists into the air.
When the boat gets to the bridge leading to the central island, Impostor slows down, taking them under it smoothly. As they’re passing under it, Izuru notices the sound of yet another vehicle whirring along between the islands.
Elegant princess Sonia Nevermind drives a jetski through the channel towards them, cutting a clean line of seafoam in her wake. Her long hair is pinned up in an elaborate bun, and her eyes are almost gleaming in delight as she speeds the machine through the water. She’s joined by Tanaka, who sits behind her, holding tight onto her waist with his eyes squeezed shut.
Mioda cheers, waving over at them, and Sonia takes one hand off the handles to return it as they zoom past.
“Good for them,” Mioda says, sitting back down. “It’s nice to see them spending quality time together.”
“Tanaka looked as though he were going to pass out,” Izuru points out.
“That’s just a part of love!”
Izuru looks out at the water skimming by beneath them. “Perhaps it is.” He doesn’t have the experience to disprove it, after all.
After lapping the islands, Impostor drives them into open water and stills the engine. They sit on the floor, sharing snacks and drinks on the boat in place of lunch, but Izuru doesn’t mind. While the scenery has gotten a bit dull, he enjoys the movement of the boat as the ocean sways beneath it, bobbing them up and down.
“This was a pleasant experience,” Izuru announces. It feels right to do so.
Impostor fishes another chip from the bag in their hands. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Ooohh, the notoriously hard-to-please Izuru-chan loosens up a bit, huh?” Mioda nudges him with her elbow.
He looks away. “I can’t imagine where you’re pulling a reputation like that from.”
“Hinata-kun talks about you often,” Impostor says. “You had to work together to bring us all back, didn’t you? He mentions that you settle for no less than perfection.”
“Hyperbole. Perfection is unattainable by human standards.”
“Not for Izuru-chan though!"
Izuru stares down at his hands. “...Even for me,” he murmurs.
An uncomfortable silence falls over them, broken only by the waves rocking the boat and the whistle of the ocean breeze. Mioda shifts in place beside him, crackling her knuckles in lieu of anything else to fidget with. Eventually, Impostor sighs, getting to their feet. “I suppose it’s time we head back.”
They drop both him and Mioda off at the first island beach. Waiting on the dock is an unhappy looking Saionji, her arms crossed and a scowl written over her face.
“You promised you’d give me and Mahiru a ride,” she whines, frown deepening. “And instead you’re hanging out with a bunch of weirdos.”
“Hell yeah,” Mioda chirps. She looks excitedly at Izuru, holding up a hand for a high five. He reciprocates it hesitantly.
“There’s still plenty of time to do so,” Impostor answers easily.
Koizumi steps onto the dock behind her, taking Saionji’s hand in hers. “See? I told you it’d be fine.” She glances at Izuru, mouth twisting as she examines him. “Uhh, you might want to consider a different pair of sunglasses next time. Those are kind of tacky.”
“That’s the idea!” Mioda shouts after them as the two board the boat.
“I thought the idea was to look mysterious?” Izuru says, reaching to take them off. He folds them, holding them out to her.
She presses them back into his hands. “Keep ‘em! I got tons lying around. Next time I’ll find a pair that's more your color. What do you think of red?”
“I am indifferent,” Izuru says. Still, he tucks the sunglasses into the breast pocket of his shirt. They add a comfortable weight against his chest.
The beach is less empty than it had been before they left. Tsumiki is still sitting at her post by the umbrellas, but now both Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama have joined her, enjoying the midday sun. Nidai stands waist-deep in the water, holding a stopwatch in one large hand, looking very concentrated.
Just out of reach of the tide, Tanaka sits cross-legged in the sand, apparently both working on a sandcastle and commanding a small army of crabs simultaneously.
“...Still no Nagito-chan today, huh?” Mioda asks suddenly. “That’s weird. Everyone thought he’d be all over you.”
“Is it that strange?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But he gets in his own head sometimes, so maybe it’s something like that?”
“That seems… troublesome.”
“Trou-ble-some,” Mioda sings. “I’m gonna use that in a song.”
Right. Well. Izuru looks over the people on the beach. Perhaps one of them had seen Komaeda today. Bidding Mioda a curt farewell, he steps off the dock, heading towards where Tanaka is sitting.
As Izuru approaches, he calls the crabs circling him to ease, standing up and clapping the sand off his hands.
“Dark Fiend,” Tanaka greets. Despite being otherwise in standard beach attire, he’s still wearing his scarf. The ends are covered in sand. “What brings you to the depths of my domain?”
Izuru refrains from commenting about how this was a public beach. Instead, he says, “You’re not out on the water anymore.”
Tanaka scowls behind his scarf, crossing his arms over his chest. “The Dark Lady has a taste for danger unmatched by both mortal and demon alike.” He gazes dramatically towards the ocean. “Even with my power, I could scarcely keep up.”
Izuru translates this to mean that Sonia had been going too fast for him, and he’d gotten scared. He nods politely. “Of course. Have you seen Komaeda today?”
Tanaka barks a laugh. “The Demon of Cosmic Force? Yes, he has indeed made his way across the coast, wreaking havoc and mayhem along the way.” He covers his face with a hand. “I see no need to give you information on his whereabouts.”
Izuru looks at the sandcastle by Tanaka’s feet. It sits on a small pile of upraised sand, looking barely started. He looks up again. “Something happened to your first sandcastle.”
Tanaka’s eyes widen. “What is this? Has the Dark Fiend unlocked psychic powers even I am unaware of?”
Izuru doesn’t bother with the farce. “I can help you make a new one in return for information.”
“Hmph.” Tanaka eyes him suspiciously for a moment. Then, he closes his eyes. The wind blows his scarf out behind him. “Very well. I shall enlist for assistance.” His chin turns up, and for a moment he just stands there like that.
Izuru just stares.
Eventually, he opens his eyes again, sitting back in the sand. “So... a dark pact is formed,” Tanaka mutters.
“If that is what you want to call it,” Izuru says, kneeling down.
He ends up spending several hours there, enough time that when they’re finished, the sun has moved across the sky, bordering dusk. Izuru steps back, inspecting their work.
A towering sand structure looms, just above Izuru in height. A complete viking ring fortress looks back at them, perched atop several sculpted mountains, a winding staircase leading from its doors to the ground.
“Impressive work!” a voice booms behind them. Nidai approaches from the beach, followed by a heavily panting Owari wringing out her hair with one hand.
“Yeah,” she says between breaths, clearly worn out from her workout. “Looks great!”
Tanaka laughs, spreading his arms dramatically. “Yes, it is certainly a suitable barracks for my army.” He kneels, pressing a hand against the sand. “Rise now, my armored warriors!”
Several crabs burst out of the sand, chattering their way through the open fortress gates. Izuru jerks as one nips at his ankle, shuffling quickly out of the way. He watches them climb the carefully made staircase with a sort of resigned bewilderment. So this was what all that work was for.
In contrast, Tanaka seems absolutely delighted, carefully overseeing each animal in its journey up the walkway.
“So you just made a crab castle?” Owari asks rubbing her shoulders.
“It’s the teamwork that’s important,” Nidai rumbles. “Not the end result.”
Izuru sighs. “Yes. We made a crab castle.”
“Dark Fiend!” Tanaka exclaims, pointing to Izuru. “Our pact is sealed. I shall grant you the information you seek.”
Izuru follows the line of the beach up shore, up until where the land curves inward to a small cove-like stretch hidden by bushes and trees. As per Tanaka’s instructions, he pushes past them, finding himself on a rather uninhabited bit of the island, where the water laps high onto the flat land.
There, sitting in the surf, is Komaeda. His hands rest at his sides, his face towards the setting sun. The shore is aglow in the orange of dusk, golden and hazy. Even Komaeda’s pale face looks colored by the sun.
He glances over as Izuru approaches, although does not say anything, even when Izuru takes a seat in the sun-warmed sand beside him.
“You were not at the beach with everyone today.”
Komaeda smiles a bit sadly. “You’re right. It was just… too much for me, today. With everyone there.”
Izuru nods, understanding what he means.
The waves churn, reflecting the dusty pinks and purples in the sky. The high tide brings unburied coquina clams awash to shore. Izuru watches as they dig themselves back into the sand.
“...And I just… I didn’t want anything to go wrong. While you’re here,” Komaeda adds quietly.
“Do you mean with your luck? I believe we decided it didn’t affect me.”
Komaeda shifts, looking away. “I’d rather not take chances.”
A large wave crashes, the water rolling high enough to wet Izuru’s waist. He puts a hand in the water, feeling it run through his fingers as it pulls back to sea. The horizon line wavers in his sight as the sun melts into it.
“You do not have to hide your true feelings,” Izuru says. “I understand that my presence here is… not entirely welcome. Hinata is your lover, after all.”
Komaeda frowns. “...What?”
“I imagine it would be incredibly difficult to even see me, much less spend time with me. A stranger in your lover’s body.”
“It’s really not that.” Komaeda shakes his head. “It’s not like you’re a stranger, anyway…”
“Figuratively speaking.”
“Kamukura-kun,” he says firmly. “That’s not it.”
“You’re getting angry.”
Bird call rings out from the trees farther up the shore, and Komaeda sighs a long breath out his nose. “You’re so stubborn. After all this time, you still haven’t learned how to be wrong.” He folds his arms over his knees, resting his head against them. “Maybe I am angry. Not all of us can just turn our feelings off, after all.”
A sharp pain juts into Izuru’s ribs, jarring enough that he nearly puts a hand to his chest. But it’s not a physical pain. Just the result of a fundamental misunderstanding of his experiences leading to an incorrect assumption.
“I do not just turn my feelings off, Komaeda.”
“That’s why you avoid all of us, right? Why no one ever gets to see you?” He chuckles, lifting his head just enough to meet Izuru’s gaze, and the look in his eyes is taunting. “You get to hide in the back of Hajime’s head and forget the rest of the world exists.”
Izuru scoffs. “I want to stay away from you all because I am responsible for a great deal of your pain. I am responsible for a great deal of Hinata’s pain. My actions caused many of you to experience literal death within the simulation, as well as potentially an even greater deal of lifelong trauma.”
“So it’s guilt, then.”
“It’s courtesy.”
“It’s cowardice.”
Izuru stands abruptly, turning to Komaeda, only to see him scramble away in the sand. For a moment, his eyes find Izuru’s and there is a flash of raw cold fear behind them. Then, they harden, and Komaeda’s mouth tightens into a line, meeting the shadow of Izuru’s face defiantly.
“You cannot possibly understand my feelings,” Izuru says, fists clenching at his sides.
“I do though,” Komaeda argues. He swallows once before speaking again. “I know it, because I felt it too. That fear of thinking you might never be forgiven. But they gave me a second chance, even after everything I did.” He pulls his prosthetic to his chest, touching the back of it before looking up to Izuru again. “Everyone wants to extend you that same hand as well.”
He holds his left arm up, opening the hand for Izuru to grab.
For a moment, Izuru just stares at it. The sun sears hot against his nape, burning the same as the indescribable feeling churning in his stomach. Komaeda is still looking at him.
Izuru takes his hand, gripping tight and pulling him to his feet. He waits a moment to let go, and so there’s a bit of time where they stand there, simply looking at one another.
“You really look nothing like Hajime,” Komaeda says then.
Izuru lets him go, stepping back. “We share the same face.”
“Still. You’re much more brooding than he is.”
A strangled sound escapes Izuru’s throat, and Komaeda laughs.
They walk to the second island together, the sky shifting from orange to purple to blue as evening truly falls. Speckles of stars begin to light the sky, clear and plentiful so far from civilization. Izuru stops at the bridge to the second island if only to marvel at them for a moment.
“They’re pretty,” Komaeda comments, stopping beside him.
Izuru hums. “I don’t recognize all the patterns. Although, I’ve only ever seen old star charts.”
“Something even you don’t know? What a hopeful thought.”
“Don’t tease.”
They walk a few more steps in silence.
“May I ask for the real reason for your absence today?” Izuru asks.
Komaeda tilts his head thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”
“I can tell you weren’t being entirely truthful.”
“I guess I can’t hide anything from you.” He goes silent for a moment, his real hand crossing over his metallic one. “I just… happened to have a bad flare-up today and didn’t want to exert myself too much. That’s all. It really had nothing to do with you, or with today’s plans. It was just—“
“—Bad luck,” Izuru finishes for him.
“And I felt awful about it, of course,” Komaeda continues. “Today was supposed to be Hajime’s peace treaty to you. To show you that you’re just as much one of us as he is and I…” he lets out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. “I messed it all up.”
As they step off onto the island, Izuru considers the day he’s had. He can hear Mioda’s singing faintly in the distance, growing louder as they head towards the beach. The sunglasses she gave him still hang off his shirt.
The smoke of the bonfire twists in the air, and he can smell the meat cooking, along with countless other dishes Hanamura had prepared. Izuru’s hair is stiff with saltwater, and his skin is warm from his time in the sun. He’s tired and hungry, but somehow, the sensations are almost pleasant.
His and Komaeda’s arrival elicits a round of applause, most notably from Sonia, who hands them both plates as soon as they get close.
“We were waiting for the two of you!” She says, her perfect smile gleaming. “We did not want to start eating without everyone present.”
“Ahh, you shouldn’t have waited...” Komaeda says, awkwardly stiff as Sonia ushers the two of them into the group.
She shakes her head. “Nonsense! It is only polite.”
“Some of us were getting impatient, though,” Imposter notes. Their plate is already full.
Komaeda bites his lip. “I’m sorry, it’s my—“
“My fault,” Izuru cuts in. “But please, go ahead now.”
Owari, having already devoured about half her plate, looks up. “Oh, was I s’posed to wait more?”
“You’re gonna choke like that,” Souda mutters. He doesn’t look so sick anymore, but he’s still only picking at his own food. Nidai, sitting beside him, slaps his back so hard he nearly drops his plate.
“A good appetite means good health!” he laughs.
Koizumi stands, picking up her camera. “Oh, I can take a group picture now that everyone’s here.”
Tanaka pulls his scarf over his nose. “My visage is not one that can be captured by your primitive technology.”
“Nope, no getting out of this one. It’s a special occasion, after all.”
Sonia pulls at Tanaka’s arm. “You can stand at the end with me,” she says, smiling. He blushes, grumbling something that Izuru doesn’t hear, but lets himself be pulled along regardless.
Carefully, the group assemble themselves into a huddle. Owari finishes her plate before leaping onto Nidai’s back, settling on his shoulders in the back of the group. Hanamura finally pulls away from the grill, rubbing soot off his face with a tired smile as he joins them.
Izuru is awkwardly pushed to the center, along with Komaeda, who may have followed him there on purpose or may have simply ended up there from luck. On Izuru’s other side is Kuzuryuu, who mutters something about being forced to stand in the front just because of his height. Pekoyama, just behind him, suggests he sit on her shoulders, to which he goes red and waves her off.
The clamber and press of other bodies around him makes Izuru’s chest tighten. These people shouldn’t want to get close to him. In fact, he really shouldn’t be doing this at all. Wearing someone else’s face and spending time with all their friends.
A tap on his back catches his attention. Tsumiki pokes her head over his shoulder. “U-Um, Kamukura-san, are you alright? You seem, um, k-kind of tense…”
Kuzuryuu glances over, whistling lowly. “No kidding. What’s with that face?”
The attention makes his spine shiver. “There’s nothing wrong. I was just thinking… is it not unfair that Hinata is not present for this?”
Saionji groans, somewhere behind him. “Ugh, that’s some real emo shit right there. We do this kind of stuff allll the time with him.”
“If anything, it’s unfair that you’ve never been able to,” Komaeda says quietly against his side.
“Come on, wrap up the chatter everyone!” Koizumi snaps. “Okay, ready? Three, two, one…”
Izuru looks up just as the camera shutter snaps.
Later, Koizumi gives a copy of the photo to each of them. Unevenly centered in the group is Izuru, the flower clips Saionji gave him still in his hair, the tacky sunglasses folded over his shirt, mismatched eyes gleaming in the gentle firelight. His mouth is half open, like he’s surprised, and around him the other ex-Remnants are making a variety of ridiculous faces and poses.
Notably, though, Komaeda is smiling. It is the most genuine happiness Izuru has ever seen on him.
On the back of the photo, Koizumi had written “Kamukura’s first beach day” along with the date. Izuru spends a lot of time looking at it. Then, he pins it to the corkboard Hinata had put up in his cottage.
Perhaps, sometime soon, he’ll do this again.