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Nagito Komaeda was never the most stable of individuals -- even before joining Hope’s Peak Academy, even before the late Junko Enoshima brainwashed him and his classmates into committing mass murder. Being killed in the Neo World Program in the traumatic way he was, even if partially by his own hand, had destroyed him. He hadn’t even been able to wake up. He shouldn’t have been able to wake up -- but, well, Izuru Kamukura gets what he wants. Not that Izuru should have wanted anything to do with scum of the earth like him -- but that was getting off topic. Coming out of the Neo World Program, he honestly couldn’t say he was much better off than when he’d entered.
But when he woke up to Hajime Hinata’s relieved smile, one gray eye and one red eye shining bright as Nagito accepted his offered hand, he had to admit that the future no longer seemed like such a terrible thing.
But Nagito Komaeda was still a mistake, someone who wasn’t meant to be born, someone who could never be described as a symbol of hope. He didn’t deserve to be in the presence of his peers, those who struggled and fought for one another’s happiness, those who didn’t let the past define them. He didn’t deserve to be in the presence of Hajime Hinata, the creator of hope, the embodiment of hope.
They didn’t deserve to be burdened with him. Even before all of this, even if they pretended everything they did as Ultimate Despairs put them on equal ground, he had still been messed up long before they had the misfortune of being his classmate. He was repulsive, dangerous, manipulative, ignorant, sickly, unmotivated, ugly, pathetic--
“Nagito! Stop that.”
Suddenly two red eyes were boring down on him, two hands locked around his wrists, and the knife pricking lines in his skin had clattered against the floor without him noticing it slip from his grasp.
“Izuru.” Nagito choked out a laugh, his eyes burning and starting to water. “Come to grace me with your presence?”
“Come to make sure yours continues.” Izuru sighed tiredly as he briefly examined Nagito’s wounds, turning over his arms to check him over. He then stood up, leading Nagito into the bathroom to treat them.
“And why would you care about me?”
Izuru’s red eyes didn’t change in the slightest. “I don’t care about anything.”
“Then let me go,” Nagito said, hearing his own nasally whine, and once again feeling a deep resentment towards himself. He started to scratch his wound, but Izuru swatted his hand away without even needing to turn and look.
“You’re so dull and repetitive. I don’t understand what he sees in you.”
Nagito smiled. “That’s something we have in common, then.”
Once in the bathroom, Izuru made Nagito sit down on the toilet seat, arm resting on the sink counter as he stopped the bleeding and began patching up his wounds. Nagito wistfully wished it was Hajime here instead.
“I don’t understand what you see in him, either,” Izuru continued after a pause, almost as if he knew exactly who Nagito was thinking of. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he did.
“Yes you do, Mr. Know-It-All.” It wasn’t an exaggeration; being the Ultimate Hope, Izuru knew almost everything there was to know. If there was something he didn’t know, it was because he didn’t care to know, or didn’t care to make an educated guess (which always ended up correct).
“He’s just as boring and insignificant as you.”
“Hajime is more than that,” he breathed out dreamily. Even if Izuru was the Ultimate Hope, Hajime was… Hajime was somehow beyond that. Frankly, Nagito felt he matched the title more than Izuru did -- at least, to him .
“He can’t protect you,” Izuru stated.
“Oh? So what are you going to do to protect me, Izuru?” Nagito questioned, and those red eyes narrowed.
“You act as if there’s nothing I can do.”
“Because that’s the truth.”
“I’m the Ultimate Hope. I can do anything.” Izuru squeezed Nagito’s arm painfully, a subtle threat made as he examined his flawless work with a critical frown. “Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you’re beyond my skills.”
“So, you think anything that’s broken can be fixed? Anything?” Nagito pressed.
“Not anything,” Izuru replied. “Not efficiently, at least. Some things need to be replaced instead.” He fixed Nagito with a harsh glare before Nagito could prompt him again. “And stop. I have no more patience for your worthless self-deprecation.” Nagito’s smile grew with his words, and Izuru’s frown only seemed to tighten. “Here. You can wash the blood away.” He let go of Nagito’s arm.
“Eh. I’ll do it later. I want to look at it a little longer.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Izuru asked the question, but Nagito was pretty sure he already knew the answer. He shrugged.
“Blood has such a beautiful look on people, doesn’t it?” he asked, raising his scarred arm.
Izuru stared down at the blood for a few moments. Nagito almost thought he was going to agree with him, but then he said, “Not on you.”
Nagito tilted his head, wondering what Izuru meant by that, but before he could voice his question, Izuru slowly closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he did. Nagito’s curiosity died, replaced by a fluttery anticipation. Moments later, the two red eyes were replaced by two gray ones, and Izuru’s calm expression was replaced by Hajime’s concern.
“Nagito… You know you can’t keep doing this, right?”
“But, Hajime.” Nagito felt himself smile. “They look so pretty when they bleed.”
Hajime gritted his teeth. “No. They don’t. And you -- you promised me, last time, you would tell me when this happened again.”
Guilt surged through him, and Nagito lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry…”
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Hajime retorted defensively. “I just --” His hands, which had been gripping the fabric of his pants, loosened and moved to cup Nagito’s hands. “I just… want you to be okay.”
“Hajime…” Every time Nagito heard himself utter the name, he still felt the swooping feeling of a crush’s acknowledgement dancing in his chest.
“Please, tell me next time. Tell someone else, if you can’t tell me. Anyone would be willing to help you, just… Stop hurting yourself. Please.”
Nagito knew he couldn’t promise that. He knew, even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wouldn’t be able to ignore those voices in his head, taunting him and telling him no one would care, that they would want him to suffer on his own and leave them out of this. He couldn’t promise him this.
But, still, he didn’t want to upset Hajime by telling him the truth. He wanted to give Hajime a mere fragment of the hope he had given him.
“Okay,” he replied with a smile. “I will.”
***
Word traveled around fast on their little island. They didn’t really keep much from anyone anymore, especially when it came to everyone’s mental or physical well-being. Hiyoko kept a tally chart for the number of times Nagito did something self-destructive. It was sad when he had twice as many tallies as Mikan did.
Ibuki’d started throwing an appreciation party every time one of them hit a fifth tally. At first, Mahiru exclaimed it was a terrible idea which would only reinforce their behavior. But Kazuichi pointed out to her how much Nagito and Mikan despised having that much attention for those reasons , and she shut her mouth when the Imposter (they’d continued calling him Byakuya for now, since he still hadn’t given them an alternate name) provided a graph showing the strong negative correlation between the time passed under the party rule and Nagito and Mikan’s self-injuring behaviors. It helped that Mikan was starting to spend more time with Ibuki and Nekomaru -- becoming closer to such optimistic, energetic, and quirky individuals really boosted her mental state, and her smiles became more genuine with each passing week.
When word got out that Nagito was on his fourth tally-mark of the week, choruses of groans echoed throughout the hotel restaurant.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he told them. Words that had been repeated before. Kazuichi nearly slammed his head against the table, but Gundham’s Four Dark Devas of Destruction worked together to keep his head from hitting the wooden surface. When he glanced up, Gundham was turned away, acting as though he hadn’t noticed.
“You’re a real fucking idiot, you know that?” Fuyuhiko groaned. “Of course we’re going to worry about you. It’s about time you get it through your thick skull that we’re your friends!”
“You do something stupid like this to yourself again and I’ll -- I’ll knock the shit out of ya!” Akane declared while cracking her knuckles.
“Haha.”
“This is nothing to ‘Haha!’ about!” Sonia retorted fiercely. “How dare you pretend our feelings do not matter?!”
“That’s not what I --”
“That is what you are implying,” Peko stated, her voice leaving no room for objections.
“Yeah. Let’s get this straight, dumdum -- only I’m allowed to bully people here,” Hiyoko added. “You bullying yourself takes the fun right out of it!”
“I’m sorry I’m taking the fun out--”
“No, no, no!” Hiyoko shook her head and exchanged a weary look with Mahiru. “I swear, it’s like there’s something wrong with his brain.”
“Because there is ,” the Imposter reminded them. “Do you not recall what the medical reports said? You could be a little more sensitive to his condition.”
“Hey, maybe we should leave that stuff private,” Mahiru suggested awkwardly.
“NONSENSE!” Everyone except for Akane covered their ears. “You have to understand your obstacles in order to overcome them! IT’S THE MOST BASIC OF THE BASICS!” Nekomaru practically screamed.
“N-N-Nagito…” Mikan twiddled her thumbs. “I… I d-d-don’t like to see you hurt…”
“I’m sorry.” Another smile. Like a broken record, on replay.
“Are you really sorry if you don’t do anything to change it?” Mahiru sighed, sending him a worried frown.
“Look, let’s just throw a party early!” Ibuki suggested. “Sleepover at the Titty Typhoon! Ibuki will make sure we rock out aaaall niiiiight loooong!”
“I can get down for that,” Teruteru winked. Hiyoko gagged.
“Another one?” Gundham sighed. “You foolish humans and your dependence on nightly extravaganza… My Dark Devas and I have better things to do.”
“Like staring at your super weird breeding blog all night?”
“Ooh! Ooh! I have an idea! Why don’t we hold a beach party this time, and bring out hammocks between the trees?” Ibuki suggested.
Kazuichi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but what if Nagito tries to drown himself while we’re all asleep?”
“We’ll just have to have sleep buddies, then,” Teruteru suggested brightly. “You’ll have to cuddle within your sleeping bag so you know when they start to shuffle, and then you can wrap your arms around them and keep them from leaving without you.”
“Why does that sound creepy coming from you?”
The bantering continued on and on as suggestions for possible party locations and events were discussed at length, Nagito long forgotten. He breathed out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as their words washed over him. Yet again, he was just a burden, just someone in the background that made the others do work for his benefit. He was repulsive. He hated himself. They didn’t need him there--
A hand fell in his, and squeezed tight. Nagito’s thoughts were swept away as his attention centered on Hajime sitting beside him. Hajime who never gave up on him. Hajime who had given him hope.
Hajime didn’t say anything. He looked unsettled, hesitant. Unlike Izuru, he didn’t always know exactly what to say. Unlike Izuru, he didn’t always understand the little hints he gave, the little cries for help sprinkled among everyday conversation. Unlike Izuru, he didn’t always know how to care for Nagito when he got injured, how to find him when he went missing, how to prevent the darkness from swallowing him up as soon as they separated.
Unlike Izuru and the other Ultimates, Hajime wasn’t born lucky or designed to be perfect, and somehow -- in a way Nagito didn’t think he’d ever understand -- that made him more perfect than anyone Nagito had ever met in his life.
And best of all, unlike Izuru, Hajime knew how to love him despite everything he was. And that was all Nagito ever wanted.