Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hajime Hinata often wondered who he was. Moreso, what he was. A person? A concept? An interstellar nullity moving slowly across the atmosphere? It was a question he found himself pondering; a constant minor melody residing in the back of his mind.

When the Neo World Program crumbled for the final time, the question became especially pertinent. Hajime could still recall the mingled voices of Makoto Naegi and Junko Enoshima, singing harmoniously for what seemed like the only time they ever had.

“You are Izuru Kamakura.”

“You are Izuru Kamakura.”

“You are Izuru Kamakura.”

You are the concoction of all that is right and wrong. The human embodiment of a counterfeit hope that rose from the shadows of a scandal. You are the reason that all of humanity has fallen to its knees, and yet you are nothing but a boy.

Hajime remembered furiously contemplating these things as the simulation fizzled away and the conscious world grew closer. Was he truly this wretched idea? Or was he what he believed he was before? Or was he neither? Or both?

He would never have believed that the answer to that question was in the hands of the civil war that lay ahead of him...and a certain white-haired, fanatical bastard he knew all too well. It was all simply waiting for him to wake up.

Hajime could not quite pinpoint his exact memories of his awakening from the Neo World Program. Words hadn’t really come to mind. There were coherent thoughts, perhaps, but they seemed so beneath him in that moment. Everything was abstract. A feeling. A sense. A hope.

He could recall the artificial green of the lights overflowing his eyes and the cold, rigid air in the room. He could remember the way his body detonated with sensations and experiences he never realized he had. Every part of his soul felt like it had journeyed somewhere and returned to him; but this time older by thousands of years.

He gently lifted his arm and stared up at it from his position. He didn’t remember why exactly. Maybe he was searching for something. A hint of a person who he might be, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know exactly what version of himself he would be when he awoke, and he still didn’t know now that he had. But in that moment, when he looked at his arm, it looked like what it was.
An arm.

It was, in a sense, nice. Just to feel.

He remembered lying there for a long while, simply feeling. He let everything come to him one by one. Step by step. Piece by piece. In that moment, as he lay awake, the world had become only him. Time was infinite for as long as he believed it to be. The stars would still themselves until he wanted them to shine. Forever was his choice. His life could be his, and only his.
He could lay here for as long as he wanted to. Centuries, if he pleased. Who would know? There was no one else here, at least no one else as awake as he was. Who could stop him from being?
And then he remembered them.

He remembered all of them waiting for him on the other side of the ocean, yearning to see the sun for the first time in a long time. He remembered her, with the rose-pink eyes and the small hands who sacrificed everything for him to be right here. And he remembered him. White hair, twisted smile, hopeful eyes...

It appeared his forever would have to wait. There were things he needed to do first.

And that was how it began. Hajime had “begun again” more times than the average person. He almost laughed at the thought of it. How many beginnings would he cycle through before he reached any sort of conclusion? Or is that what life is? A composition of beautiful beginnings?

Hajime sat up, his consciousness starting to come back to him. The dreamy aroma began to fall down his shoulders and sizzle onto the floor. He began to get his bearings and felt around him. It seemed as if he was in some sort of pod.

He looked around the room he was in. It was futuristic, filled with wires and electricity and scientific devices no regular brain could understand. A younger Hajime Hinata might have been enthralled by this room- it looked straight out of an animated movie.

Hajime slowly picked himself up and stepped out of his pod when a voice called from beside him.

“Hinata!” He whipped around. The voice belonged to a familiar man with electric pink hair and a jittery expression. Hajime widened his eyes.

“Kazuichi?” Kazuichi sprinted up to him, his ragged hair bouncing behind him as he ran. He threw his arms around Hajime in an emphatic embrace. A wide mix of emotions began to fill him. Surprise. Excitement. Hope.

Another human being was here.

“Oh my god man, I’m so glad you remember me.” Kazuichi sobbed, hugging tighter.

“Kazuichi, are you crying?”

“...No.” Hajime let out a slight chuckle.

Kazuichi Souda, the Ultimate Mechanic. He, along with Hajime, was one of the five left standing after the events of the Neo World Program. He seemed to be the same in and out of the simulation. His atmosphere was loud and laddish interlaced with hints of soft sentiment. He had a boy-like way of talking and a humorously awkward stance.

Hajime returned the embrace. Seeing his friend act so familiar brought an enormous sense of comfort. A part of him feared that everything would shift when the five woke, but it began to settle. Some things would stay the same, no doubt about that. Kazuichi stepped back. His face seemed slightly more red than before.

“The other three are already awake,” Kazuichi relayed, “And I think we’re ready.” Hajime lifted his eyebrow.

“We are?” He asked curiously.

“Just come with me.”

Hajime followed Kazuichi to another part of the room, passing by the neon designs that embellished the floor. Suddenly, they stopped walking. And he could see them.

There was a tall girl with flowing brown hair and more energy than a normal person could conjure. Another girl with peach-toned skin and effervescent eyes. A boy with a smaller figure and knit brows and one eye bartered with an aged scar.

Akane. Sonia. Fuyuhiko.

Their names flooded through Hajime’s mind and intermingled with his thoughts. They seemed different as he stared at them now; they were more gaunt and greyed with the wisdom of what they had known. And yet they were the same. There was a determination set within each of their eyes. The same determination he had seen before, and he was sure to be seeing again.

“Hajime!” Sonia exclaimed, instantly throwing her slender arms around his neck. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” Hajime jumped back, catching himself before he toppled over. He let his arms fall around his classmate’s body and felt her still-soft golden hair brush his skin.

“Hey guys,” He greeted gently, glancing around to see the three of them. “It’s good to see you too.”

“My God,” Akane murmured, her voice riddled with emotion. “Are we really doing this? I mean, are we really going to save everyone?”

“We better be,” Fuyuhiko answered pertinently. “I’ve got some things waiting for me when we do.” He looked to the side, his tired eyes falling on a specific pod. Hajime sighed.
He decided, “Let’s do it. Right now. I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Grasping each other’s hands tightly, the five of them began to move. And at that moment, Hajime realized that he had never felt more alive.

…

“Hey, where’s Komaeda?”

Fuyuhiko’s voice cut through the commotion. A sudden silence fell over them. Hajime stopped. Even his breath came to a halt for a moment. Him.

Waking up the rest of the remnants had been easier than Hajime initially presumed. Overall, his classmates awoke gently, as if they were being reborn again under a sunlit window. In a way they were. They were not themselves before this very moment in time, and now they suddenly were.

Standing there, with everyone reborn, Hajime had never felt so close to them. There was a new brightness in their faces as they held each other, freed from the confines of their former despair. It was good to see them. It had never been so good to see them.

But Hajime would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about him since the beginning. Him and his emaciated figure and honeyed words. Yeah, he was there. For some reason. Hajime wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to think about him, or if it was just difficult not to. There was no telling as to whether these thoughts were good ones. They were just thoughts. Constant thoughts. The white-haired bastard just had that presence in Hajime’s mind, completely blurring the lines of positive and negative. He was an amalgamation of futural ambiguity and wonder.

Nagito Komaeda. The Ultimate Hope.

Hajime turned to the others, staring at him expectantly.

“I haven’t gone over to him yet,” he answered honestly. “I think- I think I might be afraid to.” The silence returned again as Hajime watched his classmates glance at the floor and one another.

“I don’t blame you, he’s terrifying, no doubt. I don’t even know if he’s gonna be worse over here than in there.” Kazuichi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He hesitated. “But we can’t just leave him.”

“If I’m being honest, I agree with Kazuichi,” Akane added. “He’s one crazy guy sure, but if we all deserve a second chance then, I think he does too.” All eyes fell on Hajime. They seemed expectant like they were awaiting his call.

Why should it be him? Why his call? He was likely the last person Nagito would want to see at his awakening. Not to mention, Hajime wasn’t too enthused about seeing the other himself. A sense of fear seemed to prick him, and also something else that Hajime didn’t feel intelligent enough to comprehend.

He looked back at the faces of his classmates. Their gazes had not moved. It seems that they had made their unanimous decision. In a way, Hajime didn’t have much choice.
He sighed. He closed his eyes and stood still for just a moment. In this moment, it felt as if every experience that had ever been lived washed through him. What a feeling. An astounding, exuberant, frightening, new feeling. He opened his eyes and made his way over to the final pod, his heart beating slightly faster as he took each step. And then, he was there. He took a deep breath and looked down.

Below him lay a young man, etiolated, weary and thin. His hair was white and wavy, falling all over his face and around his head. His arms were resting at the sides of his body and his chest moved up and down softly as he slept. He was really there. It was really him. Hajime bent over the pod to get a better look.

Nagito had always looked sickly, that was for sure, but now it was almost distressing. Hajime expected this, as he did with all of them. They weren’t idealized and artificial like they might have been in the simulation. Each one of them was real now, and they were going to be as real as they could be. Still, Nagito seemed to be especially beaten.

His face was hollowed out and gray-looking, like he was a mere ghost sleeping in the bones of a human. His clothes were riddled with large gaping holes that revealed a thousand scars lining his skin. His neck was bruised in the shape of a tight collar and his wrists and body were marked with history. Most noticeably, one of his arms had nearly decayed away. It was strange looking like it belonged to someone else. Its fingers were decorated with familiar red nails that sent a prickle down Hajime’s back. Oh Nagito, what have you done?

Hajime reached toward Nagito and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his face. He looked down at his sleeping expression. It was gentle. Soft. Kind, even. Almost contented, and not in the strange way that Nagito constantly was but really content. His eyes were resting, free of the laborious burdens of life. He looked truly peaceful. Pretty. Underneath all of the schemes and the scars and the years of doing terrible things, perhaps Nagito was very beautiful.

As afraid as he was before, seeing this sleeping serenity gave Hajime a sense of calm. It would be okay. For them both. So he decided he would wait. Nagito would wake soon enough, so he was going to wait for it.

Hajime slowly sat down next to the pod and thought. He wondered what he would say to Nagito when he woke up. Would he even say anything? What would one even say to a person like that, especially after all that they had done to you? He began to recall all of the moments the two had shared within the simulation.

There was the time they met of course- Hajime lying half-conscious on the sand while Nagito stared down at him from above. He looked like some sort of angelic vision then, with the cloudy blue sky painted behind him. There was also the time they walked the island together, greeting all of the new faces that passed them by.

And then of course, there were the unsettling moments. Hajime remembered when he first learned of Nagito’s true nature. The way that the sweet, friendly boy from before warped into some sort of hope-obsessed clairvoyant. Or when he tested the fates in a daunting game of one-in-five Russian Roulette. Or when he set fires all over the island all in the name of his sick scheme to get everyone killed. There was something wrong with him, that was for sure.

Hajime mulled over these thoughts for the next hour or so. If he thought hard enough this time, maybe he could conjure up something to say. A long speech. A monologue. Nothing at all…
Then there was a faint noise behind him. A breath.

Suddenly everything Hajime was thinking vanished from his mind. He stood over the pod, his eyes pooling with concern.

“Hey, hey, can you hear me?”

Chapter Text

Quite a bit of time had passed since the awakening. Hajime hardly noticed that passage until he opened his eyes on a placid April morning in his bed on Jabberwock Island.

After the remnants fully awoke and arranged their business with Naegi’s Future Foundation, they were quickly transported to the island. It was here that they would reside for an indefinite amount of time. Ideally, until they believed themselves to be recovered from the despair they had once known. They now lived here, together, as they had done in an all too familiar simulation. Except for this time, they were truly living, and this time they were truly together.

The camaraderie between them was unlike any bond they had ever experienced. And, as Hajime realized, they would forever be incapable of experiencing anything similar. Many of them were left with nothing after the tragedy. They were hollowed out with the empty presence of their past selves and the ghosts of the loved ones they buried beneath them. It astounded him that they could even live this way; with the burdens and remorse of their actions crushing them every time they opened their eyes. They were mindless beasts and brainwashed devils, and some of them had even returned from death at the hands of one another.

And he was even beyond all of that. It had been a long time and he still hadn’t figured out his other, fabricated side. His own demon, his own self. He had yet to fully know Izuru Kamakura.

Despite the lingering haunt of the past, Hajime found that his classmates strived for normalcy. They simply lived together and held each other close in intimate memories that they could deem familiar. They partied, they laughed, they ate and they danced. And they hardly talked about what happened to them. It was as if the killing game and the tragedy and the ultimate despair never existed at all.

So he took it day by day.

Hajime sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. What day was it? He had a tendency to lose track as the months deepened into themselves. Some day in April. Gradually, he got out of bed and peered out the window of his cottage.

Immediately, he could see a flurry of people scrambling outside. There were Gundham and Sonia who seemed to be corralling a comically large set of animals. Hajime raised his eyebrow. He would never fully come to understand the two and their bizarre antics, but he knew that they suited one another almost perfectly. Still, he could not help but question what they were intending to do with that amount of animals. Or where they got them.

He also spotted Hiyoko and Mahiru carrying a sizable cardboard box filled with assorted streamers and party decor. Rather, Mahiru was carrying the box. Hiyoko seemed to drag slightly behind with a dissatisfied grimace plastered onto her face and her arms tightly folded. Hajime watched the four of them make their way past the pool and grew curious. Where were they going with those things? Was something supposed to happen today?

Before he could recall, a knock sounded on his cottage door. Hajime sighed and made his way over.

“I’m coming,” he muttered wearily. He turned the knob and opened the door to Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. Not far behind them was Peko, tailing them calmly.

Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko were already quite humorous standing beside one another, with Kazuichi’s plentiful height and Fuyuhiko’s, well, lack of. But they were even more entertaining this morning. Perhaps it was the spotted paper party hats the both of them were wearing.

“Don’t fucking comment,” Fuyuhiko warned. Hajime stifled his laughter.

Peko was also wearing a juvenile cone hat, and yet she remained her poised, graceful self. She moved through the air elusively and nodded at Hajime without saying a word. He nodded back.

He greeted, “Morning guys, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Kazuichi repeated, his eyes widened slightly. “Dude, did you forget about Nagito’s birthday?”

“Huh?” So that was what the commotion was about. It was Nagito’s birthday today.

Birthdays were an abnormally great deal on the island. They were seen as a desperate strand of ordinary amidst the sea of chaos. The remnants made a point of celebrating them in the most tragically human way possible, cake and streamers and all. This specific birthday, however, seemed random. Out of the blue. Nagito rarely ever mentioned his personal life, let alone a birthday. It was a miracle the others could remember it because it practically seemed like he hadn’t. Classic Nagito. Nothing could ever be ordinary with him.

It was still strange to be around him. There was always this unnerving sense of divide between the boy and everyone else, especially with Hajime. Even something smaller such as a birthday felt off; as if there was some hidden glass wall preventing it from taking place.

But it was still happening, and Hajime supposed that was alright.

“Shoot, I guess I did forget,” he admitted. “What’s everyone else doing right now?”

Fuyuhiko recounted, “Mahiru, Sonia, Gundham, and Hiyoko are setting up the venue. Teru, Nekomaru and Akane were put on food duty. Mikan, Ryota, and Twogami should be helping Ibuki with music and God knows what we’re doing.”

“We’re gonna get fireworks!” Kazuichi announced gleefully. Fuyuhiko sighed.

“Yeah. Um, we were gonna head down to the store and look for some entertainment.”

“Hey, don’t switch up on me when you said you were down for fireworks!”

“Sure, Kaz.” Peko let out a slight chuckle at the banter.

“I have decided to follow them,” she explained. “To assure that they do not accidentally harm themselves.” Fuyuhiko opened his mouth to object before promptly closing it. Hajime smiled.

“Sounds good to me, what did you need me for?” He inquired. The three glanced at each other briefly before turning back to him.

“This is pretty funny-” Kazuichi began.

Fuyuhiko interjected, “We have no clue where the guy is, and we were hoping you could find him before the party starts today.”

There it was. Never an ordinary day.

“I mean, I guess I can do that?” Hajime decided diffidently.

“That’s great!” Kazuichi remarked. “Obviously you don’t have to do it now, but someone has to, you know, eventually.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

Hajime watched the three of them make their way past his cottage toward where the corner store was. They seemed to talk among themselves as they did, with Kazuichi making grand hand gestures that Hajime couldn’t make out if he tried.

Slowly, he left his cottage and felt the day’s air wash over him. After grabbing a bite to eat, he decided to pass the time by taking a stroll through the area.

Going through the island would never be quite normal to him. He had seen so much here, or not here exactly, but in a place so devastatingly similar. He had seen pools of blood in the buildings, fire in the trees…

He shook away the thought. He supposed it was a good time for him to fetch Nagito.

Hajime walked down past the cottages to the stretching sands of the beach. The air felt soft and tender, caressing his face in a motherly demeanor. He could hear the rhythmically unhinged lapping of the waves on the shore and the gentle brush of the palm trees.

He glanced around. Nagito was likely around here somewhere. Oftentimes Hajime would see the boy sitting pensively at the water’s edge and absorbing the abyssal nothingness of the sea. Contemplating, perhaps, or simply staring.

Sure enough, if he squinted his eyes, Hajime could vaguely make out a figure in the distant horizon. White, wily hair rustling subtly in the wind and a slender frame standing at the edge of the water.

“Nagito!” Hajime called out, running towards the figure. It turned to him with curiously pale eyes that widened ever so slightly.

“Oh. Hello, Hajime,” Nagito answered calmly. He smiled and turned his head toward the sea again.

Nagito had grown a little healthier-looking since the awakening. His skin had gained slight pigment under the sun and the gashes across his body had begun to heal. His disturbingly “other” arm was replaced by a refined robotic one. Looking at him paired with the endless ocean painted him in a peculiarly graceful light. His icy hair and artistic features made him feel like some sort of twisted angel.

Hajime sighed, “I’ve been looking for you. The guys are setting up some stuff, you know, for your party.”

Nagito did not turn to him. His eyes remained fixed on the water. There was a slight twitch of his hand and then nothing.

“How considerate of them...” he murmured, “...to do that for someone like me.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the two. Hajime shifted uncomfortably.

“Well of course,” he supposed. “It’s your birthday.”

“I reckon it is,” Nagito remarked, seemingly impressed at the sentiment.

The silent moment returned. Hajime could hear the white noise of the beach and the beat of his heart intertwining with the lack of words. Nagito turned to him.

“I’m not used to having a birthday,” he confessed. “I haven’t had one in quite a while. Funny thing, really.”

“Hm,” Hajime responded shortly.

Nagito driveled, “It’s almost overwhelming; all these people falling over themselves for me. I know I did nothing to earn it.” He laughed a little and smiled sadly. “It’s so interesting how people live.” Hajime inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess so,” he replied, touching the back of his neck with his hand.

“You guess so?”

Hajime answered, “I guess...it can be weird; the way people are people. But it’s all they can do, you know? Sometimes people just want to do things.” Nagito nodded and returned his eyes to the water. He let out a deep sigh.

“Do you appreciate it?” He questioned thoughtfully, “The quick return to normalcy, I mean.” Hajime hesitated.

He asked quietly, “What are you asking me?” Nagito shrugged.

“I suppose I’m asking if you want everything to be like this again,” he clarified. “Or if you’re still searching for answers about everything. If you still question who you are and who we all are.” The wind began to pick up, swirling throughout the beach and lifting the waves. Nagito’s eyes widened. “Are you content with this? The ambiguous ending that we’ve been dealt?”

The air rushed quickly through the atmosphere while Hajime searched himself for words. The question started to pull him from every direction. This interaction had already lasted far longer than he had intended it to, but how was he supposed to answer this?

“I’m sorry for such a burdensome question right now,” Nagito apologized. “All this activity has just been allowing me to think.”

Hajime felt his heart beat faster.

Of course, he wanted to know more, as any curious man would. Of course, there were large parts of him that he couldn’t understand. But was it worth the exploration? Or would it only bring him more pain to concentrate on the traumas of the past?

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I want to be happy, I really do. I want to forget about all of it. I just-” The words trailed off into the sand. Hajime shook his head.

The two of them stared out in front of them, letting the ambient noise of the beach fall around them. Neither of them spoke for a brief moment; they only bathed in the striking presence of the other. Hajime took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Nagito looked up to the sky.

He asked very faintly, “Do you...hate me, Hajime?”

Complete silence.

“What?”

Even the noises of the beach had begun to mute themselves. The world seemed to have become the two of them, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

Nagito asked again, “Do you hate me for the things I did while we were there?”

“I can’t,” Hajime responded swiftly as if the words had gained autonomy over themselves and left him before he could allow it. He stumbled back. Another impossible question. And yet he answered this one so quickly.

“You can’t?”

“I can’t hate you because…” Hajime began. Any remaining outside noise completely ceased. “Because of her.”

Her. Sleepy, rose-colored eyes. Small hands. Soft, too. Gentle words, like a ray of moonlight. Small frame and round face with soft pale hair and a certain power to the way she moved.
Chiaki.

Hajime breathed, “The things you did, ultimately, were for hope. And were for her. So were the things that I did. And she would be upset if I hated you for that.”
Nagito paused for a moment and then nodded.

“I’m glad you realize that,” he whispered, “But I feel like you don’t. Which I guess, is okay for now.” Nagito looked past Hajime up to where the cottages lay. “We should go back to the others. They might be waiting for us.”

Before Hajime could speak, Nagito started to pass him. He moved with a certain conviction followed by a lingering sense of doubt. And he moved quickly. Hajime began to follow when he suddenly heard a cacophony of noise behind him. He whipped around to be met with an unusual sight.

“Wait! Nagito, do you see that?” He called out. Nagito turned around.

In the distant waters, Hajime could make out a large mass in the shape of a boat. But who could possibly be on it? The only people who ever traveled as far as the island these days were themselves.

And the Future Foundation.

The pair stood at the shoreline and watched the boat dock at the edge of the beach. Out of the boat exited two distinct-looking young women in refined blazers; one with short dark hair and noticeably sanguine eyes and another with long violet hair extending to her hips. They briskly walked over to where Hajime and Nagito were standing.

“Hello.” The dark-haired girl introduced, “We are Komaru Naegi and Toko Fukawa, Future Foundation Fourteenth Division. And you must be the Remnants of Despair.”

Chapter Text

The room was nearly silent, set aside the isolated drip of the rusted kitchen faucet. Drip. The sound had stopped itself. Drop. The walls were lifeless. Drip. The air hung in the utter stillness and felt like an exterior presence in the room, staring over the shoulder like a clandestine stalker.

The only motion in the room was the ghastly flow of crepe paper streamers and abhorrently bright green balloons. They proceeded, and stopped, and proceeded again with less certainty. And then there was Komaru, pacing up and down and back again with Toko standing ungainly behind her.

Hajime watched the pair murmur something to each other that was too inaudible for him to comprehend. He turned around behind him to see the rest of the class, sitting just like him at the scattered dining tables in the hall.

Hiyoko and Mahiru sat beside one another at one table with Ryota and Twogami on the other side. Closer to the middle of the room was where Hajime sat with Gundham and Sonia. A breath to the left of them were Mikan, Ibuki, Akane and Nekomaru. And far beyond him, toward the opposite side of the room, he could see a table with Peko, Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, and Nagito.

They were all there. Together. For the smallest moment, Hajime locked eyes with Nagito, catching each other mid-stare…

“I bet you’re all wondering why we came here,” Komaru interjected, breaking the silence like a bat to glass. The remnants glanced awkwardly at one another before turning their eyes back to her. Toko muttered something under her breath.

“Yeah,” Hiyoko affirmed in an embittered tone.

“No one’s visited us since we got here,” Mahiru added, folding her arms. “Especially not the Future Foundation.”

Toko shot her a glance and her body visibly tensed. She audibly muttered, “Geez, it’s not like we didn’t have better things to worry about!”

Komaru sighed, “I’m sorry we’ve been pretty absent. Truth be told, we didn’t really have any business here. So much more was happening back on the mainland, and it seemed like you were all doing fine here.”

Hajime felt a presence on his shoulder and realized that Nagito still had his eyes on him. A chill ran down his back. He held his breath and tried his best not to focus on anything too specific.

“So if there weren't any issues before,” Teruteru questioned reluctantly, “then what is happening now?”

Komaru and Toko both looked at each other, once again communicating in a distinctive eye language that only the two could understand. The room fell silent again and Hajime shifted his glance toward Nagito. His eyes were no longer on him and were now gazing absently at the passing sunlight.

Toko reached into a stiff cardboard box and lifted out both a white projector and a computer stamped with the words, “Property of the Future Foundation.”

“We think you all have the right to see this,” Komaru decided, pulling up a selection of images on the computer.

Hajime watched as the wall ahead of him illuminated with photographs. His eyes widened and his breath was cut short. The images were unlike any that he’d seen before.

Projected onto the walls were photos of a dilapidated Japan. The streets were littered with the remains of war; dusted with the ash and tears of those who had once been. There were papers strewn about the scene. Glass shattered from the stained glass windows.

Hajime shuddered. He knew of the damage that had been done during the tragedy, but seeing what was once a center of people turned into an isolated dystopia would continue to shatter him. Yet, the state of the city was not the most shocking part.

“What...is this?” Ryota stammered from across the room. Twogami placed their soft hand on his shoulder.

The images seemed to display some sort of protest. The city streets were crowded with great masses of people. Masses of the remaining survivors that were left starving and alone. There were signs and messages and words flooding the crowds. Hajime squinted his eyes and tried to read them.

“DOWN WITH THE FUTURE FOUNDATION.”

“BRING BACK DESPAIR.”

“HOPE IS DEAD.”

“I think you can try to guess what’s happening,” Komaru inferred. Hajime stiffened. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the images.

“Wait,” Akane interrupted. “I- I don’t think I understand at all.”

Hajime didn’t get it either. What could the signs even mean? Down with the Future Foundation. Bring Back Despair. Hope is Dead.

The words were knives twisted into his back.

“There’s a lot of noise down on the mainland.” Komaru explained, gesturing toward the picture, “A while after the Future Foundation started taking an actual governing position in this reconstruction, these protests started happening.”

Toko added, “We think that these people are unsatisfied somehow, and they...” She paused for a heartbeat. “They want to return to the Tragedy.”

The air was suffocating as if it had morphed into a thick liquid filling up higher until Hajime was struggling to stay afloat. He would bathe in it.

Drown in it.

“Return...to the Tragedy?” He uttered, almost afraid of the words leaving his mouth. Komaru nodded gravely.

“We’re having a difficult time believing it too,” she admitted. “We all saw firsthand what the world looks like and it’s not pretty.”

Return to the Tragedy. After everything he had seen, Hajime could never dream of a more absurd proposition. It was anarchy in all of its most chaotic forms. It was pure wickedness manifested into an organized world. A chess game of human bodies.

Nekomaru murmured, “I don’t get it. Seriously, how could someone possibly want to bring back despair-”

“Because Junko Enoshima got what she wanted.”

There was a hushed voice that seemed to stop everyone and everything. It had threads of graveness interlaced with sadistic joy. Sweetness and sour. Zeal and remorse.

The class turned to face Nagito. His face had twisted into a dismal smile and his eyes had become psychedelic portals. He twirled his winter-toned hair at the edge of his finger and laughed to himself, causing Hajime’s stomach to churn.

“Hey, don’t say that!” Ibuki exclaimed, shooting up from her seat emphatically. “The Future Foundation ensured that hope would overcome despair!” She turned nervously back to Komaru. “Right?”

Komaru said nothing.

“What’s the difference?” Nagito pondered out loud. “Can hope even exist without the presence of despair?” He rested his head in his hands and relaxed his body into a liquified state. “Despair didn’t begin with the Tragedy. It has existed, for many people anyway, since the beginning of time. Enoshima was a mere vessel for a feeling that was already there.”

Hajime started, “Nagito, stop-”

“When the people finally realized it, they felt it for sure. But at rock bottom, there was freedom to go anywhere. That is, in essence, hope.” Nagito continued, the passion in his voice growing at every word, “Sometimes it takes the deepest darkness for the brightest stars to shine.”

“Please-” Hajime tried again, but the boy refused to listen.

“Now there is nowhere left for them to go. They are hungry and tired and being told that hope is here when in reality it isn’t there at all.” Nagito stared directly into Ibuki’s eyes, now standing up from his chair. “Wouldn’t that make you want to feel despair too?”

“Enough, Nagito!” Hajime yelled. He felt his breath grow heavy and clenched his fists. “Just...stop it.”

Nagito turned toward Hajime with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he sat back down and returned his eyes to the passerby light. The rest of the class looked askance.

Hajime exhaled and released his palms, letting the tension cease. He could feel the entire room breathing down his neck. Perhaps it was what he deserved for the interaction. He put his head down and waited for someone else to take the spotlight.

“Anyway,” Komaru began, shifting the room back to her. “We think that these events might have something to do with all of you.”

Toko elucidated nervously, “These things started to kick in not long after people found out about your awakening.” She adjusted her hands. “There might be some...correlation there.”
Neither Toko nor Komaru spoke for a brief moment, allowing the words to sink into the room. Hajime tried to process everything at once. His mind was still reeling from his interaction with Nagito.

“Well then, what does this mean for us?” Sonia asked in a diplomatic manner.

“We aren’t sure, but Toko and I will be heading back to the city in a day or so,” Komaru replied. “If anyone wanted to, they could potentially join us.”

Hajime perked up at the words. He could return to the city? After all of this time of anticipation? It caught him completely off guard. He opened his mouth to ask a question when Hiyoko cut him off.

“No way!” She cried out, “Why would anyone want to go back there? We’re fine here. We’re not hurting anyone and no one’s hurting us. This isn’t our business so why should we try to fix it?” She whipped her head around to look frantically at the rest of the class. No one objected. They simply held their tongue in agreement.

There was a common feeling of emotion in the room. Fear? Anguish? Another emotion that one could feel at the ringing of life-changing news? Or something else entirely. Either way, there was a consensus of silence. It seemed as if no one wanted to go back.

Komaru nodded, unfazed by the response.

“Okay, that’s what we thought,” she said affirmatively. “Let us know if you change your mind.”

With that, she quickly made her way out with Toko following close behind. The projected images were gone. And the conversation was over.

…

It took Hajime a while to fall asleep. It usually did, but this time instead of ordinary insomnia eating away at him he felt a more intense ache in his head. His body felt unusually heavy, weighing him down into his bed like a bag of rocks. He shut his eyes and hoped for the best, eventually slipping out of consciousness.

…

Izuru opened his eyes and felt a glaring light start seeping through. His hair fell down his back like a rushing waterfall and danced delicately in the wind. The air around him was cold and shocking to the skin, and yet somewhat refreshing.

Where was he? How long has it been?

Izuru hadn’t felt this way in a long time. He hadn’t felt like himself, per se. He felt like himself trapped in his own body, ready to burst at the seams. Or maybe he had been himself, but not fully. Not to the level that he was now. Or maybe that was himself, and now he was something brand new.

He heard a noise ahead of him and looked up to notice that he was standing up high, upon a raised building that looked out upon a vast city. Was this Japan? It didn’t look like it. Izuru supposed that if it was Japan, it wasn’t anymore. And it would never be.

The noise seemed to be coming from what seemed like an infinite crowd down below. They chanted his name rhythmically.

“Kamakura. Kamakura. Kamakura.”

He looked down at his hands. They were elegant, and long, with bits of ash painting them. He then noticed the line of smoke coming from behind him. There was...a fire?

The fire roared upwards, its red-orange arms soaring toward the sky like a monster. It approached Izuru before he had enough time to think.

“Kamakura. Kamakura. Kamakura.”

He tried to move himself but his legs were glued to where he stood.

“Kamakura. Kamakura. Kamakura.”

He tried to yell out but his words seemed to turn to liquid every time he opened his mouth.

“Kamakura. Kamakura. Kamakura.”

The last thing Izuru thought of before the flames engulfed him was the white-haired boy. Damn it. Right before his death the bastard still took up space in his mind.

Izuru sighed and started falling backward, the seal holding his legs to where he stood coming undone. He felt the flames around him and let out one last smile as the world faded to black.
Nothing.

And then her.

Izuru opened one eye slightly, now completely submerged in the abyss. The only thing he could see was her.

A tall girl with cotton candy Esque hair tied up in two obnoxious ponytails. Her skin was porcelain yet her stance was abnormally durable. Her eyes were shockingly blue and had an air of disinterest pooled in them.

“Pathetic.” She muttered, “All that hope and you gave it away in the end. I could’ve done better.”

There was a flash of light, and before Izuru could believe it, Junko Enoshima was gone.

Chapter Text

Hajime woke up with a start. His eyes opened to his cottage, the same as it always had been. It was still dark, with only the soft whirring of a fan for noise.

He looked down at his hands. They looked ordinary. No ash. He touched the back of his head and felt his short, spiky hair. He let out a sigh of relief. It was just a dream. He was himself again.

Sometimes Hajime had strange dreams about his unexplainable alter-identity, but never were they that vivid. He had never fully felt like he himself was Izuru. It was always an out-of-body experience; Hajime staring down from the perspective of a higher being as Izuru existed below him. And ever since the awakening, Hajime had not dreamt about her.

He laid in bed for a while, trying to keep his breaths in a certain slow rhythm to help him calm down. He could try to fall back asleep again, but a part of him felt opposed to it. If he fell back asleep, then he would probably fall into the same dream again, and he did not feel particularly in the mood for that.

Hajime sat up and looked outside the window into the dark hours of the morning. He thought about Toko and Komaru. The two were probably on the ship right now, preparing everything to head back to the mainland. They would be leaving the day after this one.

Hajime knew that it was probably a better idea for him to let them leave. Hiyoko was right, the remnants weren’t hurting anyone and no one was hurting them. They were safe here. The Future Foundation had the facilities to handle whatever riots were happening over there. So why should he have to carry that burden?

But something etched him. Something called his name from behind him and reached for his hand. Was it a dream? Or was the calling already there and the dream was simply its visible form? What was bothering him and why, why was it so damn loud?

Hajime hardly noticed the hour pass by and the sunrise over the ocean. The daylight set in, filtering through the window and painting itself on the cottage walls. He was happy to see it. The sunlight made him feel less isolated with his contemplations.

Hajime lifted himself out of bed and prepared himself for the day. Before he knew it, he could hear the noise of people outside. Probably the rest of the class on their way to breakfast. Hajime had slept through breakfast for the past few days, but suddenly he felt the need to go. Now more than ever he needed other human beings, simply to be around. He finished preparing himself and made his way over to the dining hall.

He wondered what people would be saying when he entered the doors. They all had quite a lot to process with yesterday’s meeting. They were probably all deliberating right now, whispering nervously to each other about the events and the photographs and everything else. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

“Good morning!” Ibuki greeted enthusiastically, wrapping her arm around his neck playfully. “You haven’t been to the group breakfasts in a while!”

“Yeah,” Hajime responded. His energetic classmate seemed the same as she usually was; bright and loud, a slight juvenility in her step. Strange. There was no regard for what happened yesterday between her and Nagito, or what happened yesterday at all.

Nekomaru and Akane entered the hall not long after him.

“Morning, Ibuki!” Akane greeted, “Hey, Hajime!” The two walked past him and headed over to where Teruteru was serving freshly made eggs.

“Hajime!” He called, looking up from the plates, “Come get some eggs before they get cold!”

Hajime watched as the class innocently conversed and ate. There was not a hint of fear or remorse plaguing their faces. There was hardly even a bit of uncertainty. Each of their smiles seemed genuine, and yet there was something so inexplicably wrong. There was a slight shift in the cosmos or inconsistency in the pattern. Hajime felt it, but did anyone else?

He cautiously made his way over to the table when he felt a bump at his side and turned to see Sonia.

“Oh, s’cuse me, Sonia,” he pardoned, trying his best to shift past her. She did not reply. She merely stood there staring blankly in front of her, as if her soul was not fully attached to her body. When she noticed Hajime’s presence, she nodded weakly and slowly walked over to where Gundham was seated. Strange.

As he reached the table, Hajime came to a sudden realization. Where was Nagito? He glanced around subtly. The boy was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, does anyone know where Nagito is?” Hajime asked.

“Unclear.” Teruteru answered simply, scooping some eggs out from the pan, “He’s probably off doing weird things. You know him.”

Hajime shuddered. He recalled a time not long ago but so far away. Back all the way into the simulation. Into the killing game. He remembered shakily walking into a locked room and finding Nagito, lying completely bound by an old supply rope from the storage cabinet. Kazuichi and Nekomaru did that to him, Hajime remembered, because of his twisted rants the day before.

In a way, it was a cruel thing to do, which Hajime was realizing now. It was as if he was some rabid animal that needed to be tied up and dealt with before it bit someone. Still, it had to have been slightly deserved. After all, Nagito did seem like an overbearing threat to the harmony of the group. Hajime felt a beat of apprehension. They wouldn’t do that again, would they? And not for something as small as what happened yesterday?

His ponderings were quickly diminished when he heard the hall doors crack open. Sure enough, the man of the hour had arrived after all. Just late.

Nagito casually strolled into the room and Hajime stared at him intently. His walk was reminiscent of a doubtful creature with something on it’s mind. The pair made brief eye contact before he quickly turned away to speak with Sonia. Hajime couldn’t help but watch the conversation. It seemed hush, but that was about it. There was nothing inherently skeptical about it. Was it simply a normal conversation? He turned around and began to slowly eat his breakfast. Yet, as Hajime had and would continue to learn, nothing would be normal with Nagito...

Sonia suddenly shot up from her table, instantly ceasing the room’s morning commotion. Hajime stopped eating and whipped around.

“Hey!” She shouted, “All of you!” All eyes were now glued to her. They were expectant eyes, as if underneath the layers of willing naivety they were all aware of what was coming.

“Miss...Sonia?” Kazuichi stammered. She visibly ignored him.

“I need you all to listen to me now, as I will not be repeating myself,” she directed, her voice ringing with refinement and sophistication. She composed herself like a great white swan, with her back straight up and her limbs hanging gracefully.

It was moments like these that reminded Hajime of who the girl really was. He knew her as Sonia, the remnants’ sun away from the sun; the simple girl with a sweet-toned voice and a taste for the mysterious. But she had always been so much more.

This was Princess Sonia, the former young monarch of the esteemed nation Novoselic. She had more dignity than Hajime could ever muster on his own. Her power extended into far reaches of places unrecognized by other youths. Her stance was strong and ready, able to take on an army of soldiers merely by speaking. Hajime didn’t know exactly who she was in her Despair but he couldn’t say that he wanted to. It wasn’t pretty, that was for sure.

She continued, “There is something quite large happening to us, and yesterday all of you ignored it. Is it that you missed it?” She paused to glare menacingly at the class. “Or had I missed it myself? I ask you all.”

Hiyoko started frustratedly, “Hey, wait a minute, you’re not about to-”

Sonia interjected, “No, you know what I am talking about. You are all well aware. And now we’re practically silent! Is this any way to live? How can we possibly live when the mainland is falling apart?”

Now there was no interruption. Not a word from the stunned faces of the formerly contented classmates.

All of the built of tension that Hajime presumed had come into fruition. He did know something was wrong. He was simply waiting for someone to say it. Perhaps that made him a follower, Hajime realized disdainfully. Still, there was a part of him that was so relieved that someone had taken the fall for the rest. That someone had plunged themself into the darkness of the truth. Hajime thought to himself, “Thank you, Sonia.”

“We lived there once, you know.” She recalled gravely, “That was where we grew up, made friends… how could we abandon it like this?”

No objection. A breath of nothing. Hajime could almost hear the beating of his heart in his head. It was as if the words were boulders that pressed down on the remnants’ shoulders until it was impossible to breathe.

Sonia let out a shaky sigh and relaxed her shoulders. Quietly, she said, “When we first came here, we made a promise.” She touched her hand to her heart and looked up. “Remember that?”

Hajime thought all the way back and felt a pain sear through his soul. He looked around to his classmates and their expressions, and he imagined they had experienced the same phenomena.

Sonia continued, “We made a promise to atone. Now it’s...it’s as if we have forgotten! Unless, of course, this is what it means to atone. But I simply cannot stand for that!”

Her eyes read with desperation and her kind face was reddened with passion. She was a force to be reckoned with. A hurricane. A storm.

“Sonia,” a soft, low voice murmured from behind her. She gently turned her head to see him.

Gundham Tanaka was often a quieter fellow. He was a strange piece of nature, hiding his face behind his violet scarf and carrying with him four unusually intelligent hamsters. He was more likely to communicate his emotions to unsuspecting animals than the other humans in his vicinity. Unless of course, he was preaching a self-made sermon on fantastical otherworlds. Or speaking to Sonia.

He asked, “What do you suppose we do?” Sonia smiled lightly and turned back to the group. There was a small spark between the two, as if they had understood each other before the others could.

“Tomorrow,” she began. “I will be leaving with Komaru and Toko to see the mainland.” There was an audible gasp. Hajime raised an eyebrow. Were they expecting anything different? She continued, “Nagito will come with me.”

Hajime felt a jab in his stomach as the white haired boy planted his eyes firmly on him. The world froze for a moment and suddenly it felt as if the two were standing on an isolated plane. There was nothing around them except for the frequencies of one another’s presence.

It was a prison of moments. Nagito half smiled.

“Hey,” his insufferably ethereal voice interrupted. “I think Hajime should come too.”

Hajime sat up at the mention of his name. He instinctively opened his mouth to interject but the words stopped themselves halfway up his throat.

He met Nagito’s stare and the walls of the plane began to close in. Until they stopped. It was like magic, well, magic in this metaphorical hypothetical. But suddenly Hajime felt no need to object. Despite his best efforts to say something, he had nothing he wanted to say.

Nagito was right. Maybe he did want to see the mainland. Maybe, after all of this time, the day had finally come. Maybe Hajime was ready. Or not ready. Or never ready. Or always ready from the very first day.

“Is that okay, Hajime?” Sonia asked sincerely.

No matter what he felt in the moment, Hajime ended up sitting back down and nodding his head in submission. Any word of disagreement had completely dissipated in his mouth.

“I would like to join you as well,” Ryota’s timorous voice called out.

Ryota Mitarai. The Ultimate Animator. Or was.

Ryota was different from the rest of the class. He had always been officially listed as one of them, but he was in fact, an outlier. He did not participate in the killing game, yet he was excruciatingly involved. It was the work of Ryota Mitarai that sent the first mass into Despair. In a sick and twisted way, he had been here since the beginning. Of course, out of everyone, he would want to atone.

“Yes, anyone can join us if they so please,” Sonia invited, her eyes brightening at the entry of another person.

“In that case, count me in too,” Fuyuhiko murmured from the back.

“No!” Peko shouted, standing up defensively and ignoring the shocked faces of her classmates. “You shouldn’t do that.”

A chill ran down Hajime’s spine. Sonia attempted to speak but Fuyuhiko quickly cut her off.

“I have to,” he reasoned, taking on slight desperation in his tone. “I left a lot of shit to hell when we came here. There’s the yakuza...the business... I can’t just pretend like it’s not there.”

“Then I am coming with you,” Peko decided. “You will not go out there unprotected.”

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu and Peko Pekoyama. The Ultimate Yakuza and the Ultimate Swordswoman. The two had a history alongside one another long before the rest of the class did. Fuyuhiko was the youth of an infamous Japanese yakuza, forced incessantly from childhood to lead it. Peko, on the other hand, had served as an intensive bodyguard meant to keep him alive, even at the cost of her own humanity.

Neither spoke of their past; Hajime presumed that they wanted to erase it from their minds. He couldn’t imagine the pressure and the pain that the pair had gone through together, through Despair and way before it. Still, their roots were ingrained into their lives.

Despite one’s best efforts, a past can never be shaken.

“Seriously, I can hold my own,” Fuyuhiko argued. Peko refused to listen. The room bathed in their conversation.

“Peko,” he whispered, his eyes ever so slightly clouded, “We promised that we wouldn’t do this anymore.”

A beat. Hajime held his breath.

The sentence seemed to strike a chord with Peko, as her eyes widened and her stance began to soften. A genuine surprise filled her face and she slowly shrunk back into the shadows.

“Well,” Sonia concluded, folding her arms in a judicious manner, “I think that settles everything I would’ve liked to say. Is there any objection?”

There was none. Not even the irascible Hiyoko had anything to say. Hajime was not sure if the class was simply stunned or truly submitted to the idea. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure about his own feelings. It all moved so fast, and it wasn’t helping that Nagito’s stare practically burned into his skin.

Tomorrow he will leave the island. So would Sonia. And Ryota. And Fuyuhiko. And of course, Nagito. Tomorrow he will leave the island and see a world of things that only his subconscious memory had.

The sun was bright through the windows and painted faint yellow rectangles upon the wooden floors. It leaked through the glass to create blinding light that brought the eyes along a path of rays to the great blue sky above. There were no clouds today.

Through Hajime’s mind ran the dream, the images, the conversation they had just had...all jumbling around like the rolling of dice. Through his heart was growing adrenaline that ran aimlessly through a meadow of possibility. And through his soul ran a thousand internal questions that begged for the satisfaction of an answer.

And beneath all of it, she came back to his mind. Chiaki. Her face suddenly appeared. He saw her, and his mixed feelings began to absolve.

At this very moment, all Hajime knew was that everything was going to change. For the millionth time. He was going to get on a boat and return to the darkest place he had ever known himself to be in. Yes, everything was going to change.

And perhaps, despite it all, he wanted it to.

Chapter Text

As Hajime stood at the dock of the ship, he had just realized how massive it was. Its enormous steel chest stood proudly above him and swallowed the space that surrounded it. Its glass windows were adjacent to a line of eyes that stared down anyone who dared to look. Even the individual parts such as the wheel and the anchor rang with the songs of ancient monsters and gods from the sea. Hajime was humbled in its presence.

“I guess this is it,” Fuyuhiko mumbled from behind him. “Is everyone here?”

Hajime turned around and did a quick headcount. If he was correct, there should be five of them including him. Fuyuhiko was right next to him, Ryota was right there, and even Nagito had managed to make it on time. In that case, there was one missing.

“Wait, where is Sonia?” He asked curiously. Interesting. The soul behind the expedition and she was the last to arrive.

“I believe she is fetching the others,” Komaru reckoned as she walked over to them. “She wouldn’t want you guys to leave without saying goodbye.”

Right. The others. The gravity of the situation began to dawn on Hajime at the thought of the rest of the class. They would really be separated into two groups after going through everything as one. That was an unbelievable concept to him.

He looked at the four people standing on the dock and wondered if they were thinking the same thing. Ryota was different from the others; he hadn’t been with them as long as the others had. He hadn’t gone through being an Ultimate Despair like the rest of them did, or taken part in the Killing Game. Fuyuhiko was vastly the opposite. He had seen everything through to the end, and he had even further attachments to the ones being left behind because of Peko. It must’ve been hard to separate from that.

And then there was Nagito. Hajime couldn’t tell with him.

“Fuyuhiko,” Ryota asked, “How did you get Peko to let you leave like that?” Fuyuhiko shrugged.

“It took a bit of convincing, that’s for sure,” he replied honestly. “But I think she knows that this is what I want to do and that she can trust me to do it alone.” He looked back on the island towards the cottages and laughed a little. “And someone had to stay back and watch Kaz.”

The ocean painted the shoreline sand with a layer of salty water. Hajime let his eyes fall on Nagito, representing some sort of unrequited eye contact.

Sonia arrived not long after with the rest of the class behind her. For a brief moment, they all stood there, simply taking in the breaths of the others.

“I think we are ready to go!” She announced. She turned to the remaining class. “Well then, I bid you all adieu.”

“Wait!” A fragile, shaky voice called out from within the crowd. Hajime and the rest of the class turned their heads to see a tall but brittle girl with jagged purple hair hanging down from her head. She had pretty eyes and a pale face and was clearly frazzled by her own words.

Mikan Tsumiki, the Ultimate Nurse.

“Yes, Mikan?” Sonia answered patiently. The girl glanced around frantically like a deer in the headlights. Hajime fought the urge to roll his eyes with distaste.

He reserved no issue with Mikan herself. He was aware that she had been through a disturbing amount of things, enough to cause her to use this flipped nature as a defense. But Hajime would be lying if he said that he wasn’t...impatient. He just wanted to get on the boat and finally get some answers. Was that so much to ask for?

Mikan started, “I…”

“Spit it out!” Hiyoko chastised bitterly. Sonia quickly shot her a look.

Mikan winced but eventually whispered, “I want to go too.” The words were almost so quiet that Hajime couldn’t make them out.

Sonia murmured sympathetically, “I’m sorry Mikan, can you say that a bit louder-”

“I said that I want to go too!” Mikan’s words rang out like church bells, silencing even the sounds of nature. Hajime felt the waves of sound course through his body.

Sonia looked around at the rest of the class, asking with her eyes if they had any input. No one dared speak.

“Okay,” she answered. “Of course you can join us, Mikan.”

The girl seemed to pause for a moment, likely processing the things that were being said to her. Then, she slowly stepped onto the dock and stood a few feet away from Hajime. He wondered if he should’ve said something, or waved, but it seemed as though she was paying him no mind.

The goodbyes happened in a blur. For some reason, Hajime could hardly remember them. Suddenly everything around him had become an assortment of moving colors, floating around him and uttering murmured songs. He nearly felt drunk. He vaguely noticed an interaction between Gundham and Sonia across the way, in which he gently placed a little hamster in her hands.

His “sobriety” returned when he reached the deck of the ship. He looked around him to see the others that foolishly decided to test their fates. Sonia. Ryota. Fuyuhiko. Mikan. Nagito. He watched as the boat unhinged itself from the dock and brought its godly body into the ocean. It let out grand starting noises, reminiscent of the trumpets rumored to play at death.

Hajime stared out at the disappearing beach and the waving hands of the classmates they were leaving behind. With every shaky breath he took, the island got a little smaller, until it was not to be seen at all.

…

By the time night had fallen, Hajime could not fall asleep. He had hardly gotten a wink in the past few days but his body almost refused to shut down. His consciousness was still riddled with the dreams in his head. A brisk chill came through the room from the window he had left open. Hajime shivered before getting out of bed.

He moved to the deck, cautiously to preserve the sleep of the others. The nighttime air was crisp and new, and the ebb and flow of the waves served as an ambient sound machine.
Hajime leaned over the edge of the boat and watched the water run into itself from the jets. The salty ocean wind coursed through his hair.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly called from behind him, interrupting his quiet contemplation. Hajime jumped a bit, startled at the random noise. He turned around to see Nagito, standing behind him with an indecipherable look in his eye. The boy moved next to him and leaned over in a similar fashion.

Hajime shifted subtly in the opposite direction. He felt a slight agitation in his veins. The last full conversation the two had together was on the beach, on Nagito’s birthday, unless one counted the brief spar they had during the class meeting. It almost felt as if they were standing upon a thin sheet of ice.

“Oh, it’s you,” Hajime muttered under his breath. Nagito widened his eyes for a brief moment and looked away.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked quietly.

Hajime stuttered, “N-No! I’m not.”

He wasn’t disappointed. That definitely wasn’t it. Why would he be? It was simply that his heart started to pound faster, knocking at the sides of his chest as if it was delivering a message. Perhaps he was reluctant, anxious even. But no, he wasn’t disappointed.

“Follow up question then,” Nagito said, resting his head on one of his hands. “Am I intruding on something?”

Hajime hesitated, letting the ambient noises of the ocean consume them. He answered shortly, “No.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

The wind started to blow a little harsher, chilling Hajime’s skin. Nagito looked up to the dark night and then back down into the watery depths. Hajime watched him with curiosity. The boy seemed docile in this way as if he was submerged in pensive thought. Still, Hajime felt that continuing sense of unease.

“The ocean used to scare me when I was younger,” Nagito remarked, laughing a little. “I would imagine sinking into it and drowning and it covering my head completely.” He shuddered. “There’s no hope in that.”

“I suppose,” Hajime replied. God, please just leave. His thoughts rang out with embitterment.

Nagito said, “Look down, Hajime, does it not seem monstrous?“ He pointed down at the waters emphatically.

Hajime sighed and reluctantly stared down. His heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly his brain had some sort of reckoning as he imagined what lay beneath the depths of the ocean. He pictured the great unknown creatures that lay awake in total darkness, hiding in the shelter of the shadows. He thought for a moment before saying, “I think that the ocean was kind of cool.”

Nagito raised his eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Hajime affirmed. It was true. The ocean had always amused him when he was a child. It was simply an affirmation that there was something larger on the planet, something greater than he and his small world could picture. Why he was telling this to Nagito, he wasn’t sure, but the tension had slowly begun to decrease. “I mean, the possibilities were endless. Sometimes more endless than up here.”

Nagito nodded. He whispered with a smile, “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

Hajime widened his eyes. Never had he heard Nagito so easily leap down to agree with him. It was either a convoluted dispute or the most pathetic, self-degrading agreement he’d ever seen. It was as if the two of them had found some middle ground or some mutual understanding. It was a nirvana of opinion.

Hajime noticed something strange twist into his heart. He couldn’t name it, or describe what it was. He simply had it.

“Hey,” he murmured hesitantly, “I never actually wished you a happy birthday.” Nagito shrugged.

“That’s alright, it’s enough for someone like me that people even remembered,” he reassured. Again with self-degradation. It always made Hajime’s skin crawl with discomfort. A pained smile plagued Nagito’s face. “My birthday’s never been too happy anyway. It’s probably for the better that it got interrupted.”

Hajime commented, “That’s a pretty depressing sentiment.” Nagito laughed again.

“What can I say?” He asked rhetorically. “Sometimes that’s the unfortunate truth. Is it not?” The last few words of his speech sounded almost forced; as if they were rough and unfriendly to the touch. Difficult to push out of the mouth. Hajime felt a sense overcome him. An urge, perhaps. Was it...pity? Or empathy?

“It doesn’t have to be,” he challenged calmly. “Things change.”

A slight breeze ran through his hair. It was nice to feel, paired with the warm atmosphere of the night. Nagito sighed and rested his head on the edge of the boat.

He admitted, “I wish it could be that simple.”

“Can’t it be?” Hajime questioned. Nagito did not reply this time.

The ocean waves crashed beneath the ship in a quietly orchestral manner. The moon shone brightly in the deep dark sky. Hajime let the sway of the ocean fill his ears like a symphony of drums.

“I have a question for you now,” he stated. Nagito looked at him with surprise.

“Ask away.”

Hajime took a deep breath and asked, “Why did you want to come here?”

Nagito pondered for a moment. Hajime waited and watched a cycle of thoughts run through his eyes. He so desperately wanted to know what they were. He always did.

Nagito kept thinking until he eventually replied, “Simply because I’m curious.”

“You’re just...curious?”

“Isn’t that the reason all of us are here?” Nagito asked, avoiding eye contact. “Sure Mikan and Ryota and Fuyuhiko and Sonia all say that they have other reasons. But in the end, I think that all they really want is to know things.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes. Suspicion filled his mind.

“I feel like there’s some other reason,” he decided. Nagito shook his head.

“I’m sorry I disappoint you,” he apologized, his voice hinted with sarcasm. “Sometimes things are just the way they are.”

“Well I...okay.” Hajime gave up. Whatever big secret Nagito was withholding from him would turn up eventually. They always had a habit of doing that one way or another. He thought it best not to pry any longer.

“If you’re so bent on having a reason, what’s yours?” Nagito asked, now turning his head to completely face Hajime.

“What?” The question caught him off guard. It shouldn’t have. Of course, Nagito would turn the tables on him. Damn it.

“Do you have a reason for being here?” Nagito asked again.

Hajime knew what he meant. Of course, he did. It just hit him harder than he imagined it would. He was now faced with an unwilling decision. Two roads in a winding wood.

There was the road in which he told Nagito nothing. He did not give him the satisfaction of knowing anything about him. Instead, he would hold the topic back in the darkness at the expense of the conversation.

There was also the road in which he disclosed everything; the dream, the prophetic feelings he’s been having, Izuru Kamakura, Junko. Everything that wracked his mind.

“I…” he began, feeling the words reach the tip of his tongue. Nagito watched him patiently, the wind causing his white hair to dance gently. Hajime looked down into his eyes. They were gray usually but silver in the moonlight, and they were so quiet. They were expectant, but they were willing to wait.

But not long enough. Hajime inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

“Maybe you’re right,” he lied. “Maybe we’re all just curious.”

The ocean sounds encapsulated the space. Nagito paused and then nodded. He turned his face away from the moonlight.

“Okay,” he said. Hajime opened his eyes and let the dim light of the moon and the ship fill them again. Something caught his glance in the distance. It was some sort of light.

“We might be there in a couple of hours,” he estimated. “I guess we should try to sleep, right?”

“That sounds right,” Nagito agreed half-heartedly. He turned his body around and began making his way back into the ship. Hajime felt a twinge in his mind.

“Wait, Nagito-” he called out. Nagito turned his head. The two stood there in their silence for a moment. Hajime gripped the edge of the boat. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Nagito smiled and shook his head. He whispered, “You’ve never managed to disappoint me, Hajime Hinata.”

With that, the conversation had finished. Hajime waited for a moment before following Nagito into the boat.

Tomorrow they will arrive at the dock of the Future Foundation. Of Hope’s Peak Academy. And Makoto Naegi. And the answers they had so long postponed.

Chapter Text

The Future Foundation was managed by a peculiar bunch. Simultaneously, they were the most astounding icons that had ever graced the planet. They were survivors of the first true Killing Game, before Hajime and his classmates lived through theirs. They were the beacons of hope. And a peculiar bunch, nonetheless.

There was Toko, of course. She was a unique figure to her own; bitter, disturbed, and stronger than anyone, able to overcome the internal hardships that gnawed and bit at her mind.

Then there was Yasuhiro Hagakure. He was a particularly handsome fellow with joyful eyes, and he was almost too kind for the life he had lived. Aoi Asahina was also an especially warm personality, but one could easily tell that she was forever broken under the layers of honey coating her skin.

Byakuya Togami was there as well. He was cold as if his body was entirely composed of frost and diamonds. He was austere yet damaged, and undeniably beautiful. And one could not forget the fascinating Kyoko Kirigiri, acute and savvy with a resilient hunger for truth.

But the most captivating of the six survivors would always be the most ordinary.

Makoto Naegi.
Perhaps it was an outdated understatement to refer to him as ordinary. In reality, he was everything but. He simply rose from an ordinary place and flourished into something new. He was the face of hope, and the future, and the boy who stood up to an entire world of despair when he was merely a child. He was closer to being an Ultimate than anyone who earned the title, and one of the most legendary people that ever lived.

When the remnants departed for the island, the Foundation was busier than ever. It was difficult to instill a fragment of hope into a cesspool of Despair. They carried that burden on their own young shoulders, and they seemed to manage themselves quite well for the task at hand. With the reestablishment of Hope’s Peak Academy with Naegi taking the head position, everything seemed to be fixing itself. And how they wished it would...

Hajime opened his eyes to the sound of Sonia yelling.

“Up, everyone!” She called out, her melodic voice ringing through the salty air. “Up! Up! Up! We are here!”

“Holy fucking shit,” he heard Fuyuhiko say. “Is it just me or did that feel too short?”

“Pardon me,” Mikan stammered, “But aren’t you short…as well?”

The interaction was followed by a choir of high-pitched apologies and the sounds of stifled anger. Hajime laughed to himself.

He sat up and peered out the small, circular window that gazed out on the water. Sure enough, a mass of land grew closer. Hajime felt his heart skip a beat.

Upon the land was a breathtaking view. Buildings that towered up into the stars, all together in a symphony of architecture. They stood with pride, unfazed by the crumbling world around them and the great ocean they paired with. It was incredible, Hajime thought. When was the last time he had been on the mainland?

Of course, he had seen these great wonders before. He grew up with them. He was one of the Reserve Course students that meandered those floors as if it was nothing. But it almost seemed like that was a different time. Everything that happened before the Tragedy was nearly unreal. It was as if it was a fever dream, and Hajime woke up when the first blood was spilled.

He wondered if he missed it. Did he miss those days? Or had he fully accepted that they no longer existed? Perhaps he missed the idea of it. He missed the idea of being a boy with a blank mind and a gray world. But those days, those real days, they were gone. Hajime knew that.

“Hey everyone! We’re getting off in about sixty seconds!” Komaru announced from outside.

Hajime perked up. Already? He whipped his head back to the window and noticed that the landmass appeared significantly larger and far closer. Damn it. It was truly time to go.
He made his way to the boat’s surface to see the large unit aligning itself to the shoreline. The air was fresh and new, and alive. He found himself, with the rest of the group, following Toko and Komaru to a long metal ramp that extended to the land.

When he stepped off the boat, his heart soared. After all this time, Hajime Hinata had finally gone home. There were people here. There was life here, persistent even after everything that had happened.

He looked up to see a welcoming face staring him down. His breath stopped. It had been a while since he had seen him. And now he was here.

“Hello Hajime,” Makoto Naegi greeted. “Welcome to the Future Foundation.”

…

The inside of the new Hope’s Peak Academy was beautiful. It was pristine and modernized and yet still spotted with a thousand years of glorious history. It truly felt like a center for greatness, where things were born and raised and killed and loved. It was the epitome of a new world built with the hands of hope.

“I bet it looks different from what you last remember,” Makoto remarked.

Toko looked around before saying, “I hope we did it justice.”

The two and Komaru walked up ahead, followed immediately by the six remnants from the island. The plan was to meet the others in one of the classrooms and discuss a plan. They passed by a row of refurbished classrooms with light percolating through the windows and a great library of contemporary greats.

Makoto seemed more human in person. Shorter. More youthful. Hajime shook his head. Of course, he was. They were ordinary people in the same way.

They took a turn into a long, wide hallway with a door at the end. It was strikingly different from the others, causing Hajime to stop in his tracks. The walls were painted with honorable shades of blue and yellow, and it was lit not with the brightness of a corporate building but by a nostalgic muted candlelight.

However, the most eyecatching thing about the hallway was the line of eight portraits that paraded against the wall. Each one was painted with oil, creating the feeling of a renaissance museum, and each one depicted a different person. A different history, one could say.

Hajime stood in front of one portrait that specifically caught his eye. It displayed a woman with darker skin and scars along her face and arms. She had a more muscular build and a powerful stance, and she had long white hair that elegantly fell down her back. Makoto noticed him staring and stopped walking.

“You like it?” He asked. Hajime nodded.

“It’s really neat,” he commented. “Who is she?” The others had now stopped walking and gazed up at the piece.

“That’s Sakura Ogami,” Makoto replied, pointing up to her stoic face. “She’s pretty, right?”

“These are all so stunning,” Sonia remarked, turning around to see them all. Makoto smiled.

He said, “We had them done while we were reconstructing the building.” He sighed with melancholy contentment. “They were our classmates who unfortunately could not be here today.”

There was a moment of silence. Hajime looked down the line of portraits again, this time in a different light. He pondered the lives that these people might have had before everything had
happened to them. The group kept walking through the hallway, accompanied by the paintings’ lost faces and the dim candles upon the wall.

“This is it,” Makoto announced, reaching the door at the end of the room.

He opened it to a smaller classroom that was dappled with light. There were four other faces in there; the other four survivors. Hajime suddenly felt insignificant in their presence.

“You’ve finally made it!” Aoi exclaimed, leaping up to greet them. Yasuhiro followed closely behind.

“It’s really great to meet you guys,” he said with a great smile on his face as he shook each of their hands. Hajime noticed that his hands were quite large, and they were soft.

The other two were less effervescent at the first greeting. Kyoko shot them a smile before walking over to speak to Makoto. Byakuya allowed them one curt nod.

“It’s good to meet you too,” Fuyuhiko returned formally.

After a polite yet cumbersome round of pleasantries, the meeting commenced. The remnants sat down in the classroom desks.

Hajime noticed Nagito take the seat next to his own. He briefly looked over at the other, expecting to see his gray eyes staring back. Yet, Nagito remained focused on what was in front of him.

“Alright, everyone!” Makoto called out. “I’m sure everyone is tired and all, so I’m hoping to keep this meeting as brief as possible. Asahina?”

“That’s me!” Aoi stood up and leaped to the front of the room. She turned her body so she was directly facing the remnants. “So, most of us already talked about this, so I’m just going to run through it with you guys!”

The six nodded with comprehension.

“The goal is for Toko and Komaru, our dream team,” Aoi smiled at mentioned, “to take you guys out to the city area. You’re going to spend a few days there, at most, just to get a sense of what’s happening.”

Komaru added, “We’re hoping that closer exposure to the events will give you an angle that we didn’t have. And then…we might know what to do about it.”
Hajime furrowed his brow.

“Wait,” he interjected. “Do you all not have a plan yet?”

Byakuya folded his arms and adjusted his glasses. His face was riddled with an expression of impatience.

“It’s difficult to come up with a plan when there’s no angle,” he reasoned. “We’re currently just looking at a variety of viewpoints.”

Hajime nodded and folded his hands on his desk. Nagito glanced over at him.

“We’re going to try to lay low, you know, so no one tries to stab us or anything,” Toko advised. Makoto turned to look at the remnants with his round, promising eyes.

“Does that sound like a good plan to everyone?” He asked. The six paused, thinking about the conversation, and then signaled a vague okay. Makoto smiled. “Well then, that’s all I really wanted to debrief so-”

“It won’t be that simple.”

Kyoko stood up from her seat. Her voice was interlaced with dexterity, as was most everything she did. Hajime watched her stand next to Makoto and put her gloved hand on his shoulder. She made direct eagle eye contact with each person in the room.

“The city you knew before no longer exists,” she murmured. “For your own good, don’t get too comfortable.” She let out a sigh. “You’ll just get hurt.”

With that, she picked up her assorted belongings and left the room. Makoto stood awkwardly for a moment, switching his glance from the remnants to the door, and then followed Kyoko into the hall. Aoi and Yasuhiro were next, gesturing for the rest of the remnants to follow.

Hajime stood up to follow the group when he heard Byakuya call from behind him.

“Hajime,” he asked, “would you be able to discuss for a moment?” He sipped his tea in a dignified fashion.

Hajime opened his mouth to the sensation of nothing. Nerves wracked his body. He was still processing the previous conversation, and now he feared he was about to have another. Byakuya rolled his eyes.

“Let me rephrase that,” he decided. “I am requesting that you discuss for a moment.” Hajime quickly sat back down.

“Sure,” he answered, slightly tripping over his speech. “What about?”

Byakuya posed, “I have questions about you.” He pulled over a chair and sat directly in front of Hajime, his crystallized blue eyes staring intently. He continued, “Moreso, I have questions about Izuru Kamakura.”

His voice was quieter. It was more gentle than the usual sharp, cutting tone.

A chill ran down Hajime’s spine. The world around him began to blur. He almost didn’t feel anything. For a split second in time, he was completely senseless.

“Hajime?”

“What!?” He was quickly pulled back to reality and the room became focused again. His heart was beating out of his chest. Byakuya sighed.

“You’re going to have to answer me, and answer me honestly,” he prefaced. “This is necessary information for the Future Foundation.”

Hajime took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.

“Okay,” he submitted. Byakuya took a moment, and then he put down his tea and pulled out a small notepad. Hajime’s hands trembled. He was starting to feel like an ant under a microscope.

“Here is my first question,” Byakuya presented. “The Kamakura Project centered around injecting a plethora of talents into one human. Do you still have those skills?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Hajime answered. “I don’t feel like I'm especially talented if that’s what you’re asking. I do things like a normal person.”

Byakuya pushed up his glasses and commented, “Interesting.” He auspiciously wrote something down, causing Hajime to shudder.

“Next question.” He asked, putting down his notebook, “How much do you remember from before the simulation but after the Kamakura Project was enacted?”

Hajime’s heart lurched. His body was practically turning to stone.

“S-Sorry,” he stuttered, “One moment,” Byakuya said nothing. Hajime grasped the side of his chair as he centered himself.

It was hard to say how much he remembered. His memories while being Izuru were somewhere in his mind; faded and stained but still there. He tried his best to repress them, but he couldn’t deny the fact that they happened.

“I remember…” he began, wracking his brain for experiences. He imagined vast fields of ash and dust. He felt the sensation of long, tangled hair falling down his shoulders. He imagined unclear black and white colors and swirling states of consciousness. And he imagined a prolonged, torturous feeling of boredom. Still, the clear images simply wouldn’t return.

“Alright,” Byakuya interrupted. “I will move on to the next question.”

Hajime uttered, raising his hand, “Wait, I can try to answer it.” Byakuya shot him a disdainful stare.

“I wouldn’t waste my time,” he advised. Hajime slowly lowered his hand and looked down to the floor. Byakuya continued, “I have one last question for you, as I’m sure you need rest before your departure tomorrow.”

Byakuya had a very succinct way of speaking, Hajime recognized. There was a lack of comfort in his voice that was replaced by a simple desire to retrieve information. Hajime respected that. In a way, the lack of connection was exactly the kind of comfort he needed. Byakuya saw that. Or he didn’t. Either way, it was what he conveyed.

“This is a very conceptual question, so please answer it to the best of your ability,” he questioned, “How connected does Hajime Hinata feel to Izuru Kamakura?”

“I don’t,” Hajime answered quickly. “Well, I dream about him from time to time, but otherwise he hasn’t really made any grand appearances as of late.”

Byakuya put down his notebook. “You seem to be referring to Izuru as ‘him’ whilst you refer to yourself as ‘me.’ Is there a reason for this?” he interrogated. Hajime shrugged.

“Don’t know,” he answered. “I guess I don’t want to think of him as me. Or me as him. I don’t want to think…” he took a breath, “...that I’m not me anymore.”

Byakuya nodded. He was no longer writing. He removed his glasses gracefully and placed them on a desk.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re dismissed.”

Hajime caught his breath and shakily stood up to leave.

“Wait.” Byakuya’s voice cut through the ambiance, reaching out his hand. His eyes looked softer without the thin white glasses frame that typically obscured them. He took a moment before saying, “Do you remember what the purpose of the Jabberwock Island simulation was in the first place?

Hajime sat back down in his chair. He asked quietly, “Are you still interrogating me?” Byakuya shook his head.

“No, I got all the information I required. Now I’m just asking you a question,” he explained. “What was the purpose of the simulation?” Hajime inhaled and thought back.

“It was rehabilitation, I think,” he answered.

“Right,” said Byakuya. “Before it was hijacked, of course, we created a place where the sixteen of you could recover from the things you went through and become yourselves again.” He looked up at Hajime. “And for the most part, it worked.”

A small bird began to sing from outside the window. Perhaps it was calling to its lover.

“What are you getting at?” Hajime whispered. Byakuya sighed.

“You will always be inherently you,” he murmured. “That’s why we chose you for the simulation, but more importantly, that’s how you were able to beat it. You will always be what you work for even when everything else is taken away.” He paused and smiled. A rare occurrence for Byakuya Togami. “A very wise person taught me that.”

Byakuya stood up and collected his empty teacup while Hajime remained seated. His heart rate had begun to slow down, but every other part of him was spinning. He could almost feel the rays of sun on his skin and the colors in his eyes.

“I wish you luck, Hajime,” Byakuya voiced. “I have hope that you will do great things.”

And with that, the elegant young man briskly exited the room, leaving the door two inches ajar.

Chapter Text

There had once been a glimmering city, decorated with rhinestone buildings that extended into the heavens and diamond streets that stretched to the horizon. The city was set on a path of golden sand into a new world created from the progress of the last. The city was a scientist’s epiphany and an ordinary man’s dream. The city was beautiful; it had once been.

Hajime stepped out onto the street, his body obscured by a thick gray cloak. He looked up at the gray, smoke-ridden clouds passing by him in the sky. He felt the stillness in the air. The roads were as polluted and downtrodden as in the photos, yet in person, it almost felt like more.

There had once been a glimmering city, but there was no longer.

“Don’t dwell on it too long,” Komaru advised, placing her hand on his shoulder. “It won’t help you.”

Hajime took another glance at the broken city, then quickly turned away. Toko’s eyes filled with empathy, but she ultimately said no more.

They had departed from the headquarters in the dark hours of the morning, wearing heavy layers of clothing to hide their identities. Makoto said that if they were found out then the expedition would have to be promptly terminated. They did not want to risk the consequences.

But now Hajime felt like a stranger in a city he once knew. He was not meant to be a human here. He was meant to be an observing phantom. A ghost. When he departed the island, he was so sure that he was going to see home, but this place was not home to him anymore.

Nagito felt differently.

“It’s just like I remembered!” He rejoiced. “What a wave of nostalgia!” He reached to pull down his hood when Toko grabbed his arm.

She scolded, “Don’t even think about it. Stay hidden, even when no one’s around.”

The group walked down the sullen street. Hajime randomly thought about Jabberwock Island. He wondered what the others were doing. They were likely going about their daily lives, unaware of the world overseas. Or they were fully aware, and they were living in fear.

The group took a turn onto a new street. Hajime widened his eyes and felt his breath come to a near stop.

On the street was a large crowd of people, yelling incomprehensible sentences out into the air. They were holding all too familiar signs with all too familiar messages, just as the way they were in the photos. Down with the Future Foundation. Bring back Despair. Hope is dead.

“A protest,” Komaru observed. She pulled the group into a hidden alleyway. “This is good. We want to observe it.”

“We need to be careful!” Toko reminded her nervously, “Our best bet is to quietly get around them and analyze what we saw somewhere safe.”

“We can split up! That way we have fewer people to worry about,” Sonia suggested. Komaru nodded.

“Okay,” she directed, “Toko, Mikan, Sonia, and Nagito will take the street across from us. Hajime, Fuyuhiko and Ryota can come with me. We will meet at the abandoned hospital a few blocks from here.”

She gestured down the street in the direction the destination was. Nagito visibly shuddered, catching Hajime’s attention for a second. He turned away. Nevermind.

The groups quickly took to the streets. Komaru was almost immediately swallowed by the masses and commotion of the city.

“Damnit, where’d she go?” Fuyuhiko asked.

“Just keep going,” Ryota muttered, almost to himself. Hajime pulled his hood further down his face and kept an eye out.

All he heard was the sound of yelling. Everywhere around him was someone with a sign, a scream, a weapon even. He hadn’t heard other people in a long time. Was this what they sounded like? Hajime listened to what they were saying.

There was a plethora of uproarious cries yelling out, but the most distinct one belonged to a young woman with bleach blonde hair. She climbed up on the base of a lamppost and preached to the crowd.

“People of the world!” She called out. Suddenly everyone’s eyes were on her. “We have been protesting for several days now and the bastards at the Future Foundation still refuse to listen. No matter. They’re just afraid of the people they want to silence!”

Hajime stopped walking to stare up at her.

She continued, “Are we going to let our freedom get stepped on?”

“No!” answered the crowd in a skin-crawling reply-all.

“Are we going to let Makoto Naegi and the Future Foundation treat us like fools?”

“No!”

“Are we going to be lied to and eat their empty promises?”

“No!”

“Hey, do you know who that is?” Fuyuhiko asked, trying to look over Hajime’s shoulder. Hajime shrugged and shook his head.

“It looks like she’s leading them,” Ryota observed. “She’s…firing everyone up somehow. Let’s remember her for later.”

The woman stood proudly upon the base with her hair billowing in the wind. Her hands were on her hips in a defiant manner and her eyes were like spears. She reminded Hajime of a certain someone. He stopped his hand from trembling. Fuyuhiko and Ryota seemed to notice.

The three of them returned to the crowd and began to keep walking. Out of the blue, Hajime felt his body bump into another.

“Watch where you’re going,” a deep voice growled in front of him. “Damn punk.”

“Sorry,” Hajime mumbled, shifting out of the way. He suddenly felt a grab at his arm. His breathing stopped short.

“Wait,” the man said. “Who’s your friend?”

Hajime followed the man’s gaze to Fuyuhiko. What was happening? He felt his heart pounding in his chest. He tried giving his arm a slight tug but the man only gripped harder. The ground was starting to shake. The walls were starting to close in.

“I don’t know you,” Fuyuhiko cut in, stepping in front of the man. “Get out of our way.” The man swiveled his attention from Hajime.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured. His hand began to loosen as he started walking forward. Fuyuhiko shot Hajime a panicked look.

“Hey!” A voice called from the sidewalk. Hajime twisted his body to see Komaru waving her arm in the air. Just in time.

Toko, Nagito, Mikan and Sonia were with her. Rapidly, he wrenched his arm out and started shoving his way through the crowd. Fuyuhiko and Ryota ran after him. They tried their best to obscure themselves in the bodies of everyone else.

The three finally got to the others after desperately needling through masses of people. They all quickly ran past the protest while seeking any darkness that the street could offer. The back entrance of the hospital was reached in a matter of minutes.

Komaru quickly ushered everyone in through the door and then promptly closed it.

“Everyone okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Sonia responded softly. Ryota nodded, leaning against a wall. Fuyuhiko sank down to his knees.

“You okay?” Hajime quickly asked him. The boy hesitated before nodding slowly.

“Mhm,” he murmured. “Just…shaky.”

“Let’s go find a secure place to settle in,” Toko suggested, “We can stop here for the night.”

The group began to follow Toko deeper into the hospital, except Nagito stood behind. Hajime noticed him standing in a rigid position, unmoving from his place.

“Hey, come on,” he gestured, motioning for Nagito to follow. The other stared at him blankly. Hajime started to move away, more slowly than usual to give Nagito time to join him. After a minute or so, he did.

They found a safe place to sleep in a room with no windows. As he stood in it, Hajime felt an eerie sense creep over him. He was so caught up in the stress of the day that he did not realize how unnerving the abandoned hospital was.

Mikan suddenly dropped to the floor and started to weep. Her tears hit the ground and created an array of delicate raindrops. The group stepped back, stunned at the scene. Sonia quickly knelt down and began to comfort her. Hajime thought he was going to be sick.

No one slept for a while. No one spoke. They did not discuss the day, but they did listen to the repetitive hushes of Sonia as she stroked her classmate’s hair. Fuyuhiko sat wide-eyed in a corner, staring at nothing. Ryota laid down with his hands over his face. Meanwhile, Nagito seemed somewhere completely different. Mentally, he was not in the room with the others.

After a few dreadful hours, Hajime felt his eyes begin to close. There was a quiet brush of the wind against the hospital walls.

It was time to sleep.

Chapter Text

hello ao3 users

im scarlett lol im the writer of this silly little fanfiction

i recognize that it hasn't updated in half a year. and that's my bad. some really traumatic shit happened in march, and also i lost interest in DR for a while, and also i was really busy with other things so i didn't have time to write.

BUT IM BACK.
IM READY.

komahina never dies yk

I'm going to keep writing this fic- not sure when it'll upload but it isn't over

don't lose faith in me

ok thanks bye

Chapter Text

Hajime’s eyes flew open. He felt his breaths shake with trepidation. No, he thought defiantly. He would not do this again. He would not let himself fall into the same trap that the dream enclosed him in. Take that, Izuru Kamakura.

It was the same dream from before, with the flames and the crowd and Hajime at the center of it. It seemed to keep returning like an incessant little parasite. He reckoned that if it happened so many times then he would begin to grow desensitized to it. He would recognize it for what it was. Yet, every time he found his mind submerged in that hypothetical, it felt horrifically real.

He sucked in his breath and stared up at the ceiling. It hung over him ominously and almost seemed to sink in. If it got any closer Hajime was sure it would fall. He turned over before the illusion could get to him.

It took him a moment to realize that he was not going to fall asleep again. At least not at the moment. His brain was trembling with everything the group had seen that day. His subconscious was splattered with dreams. He pondered whether or not it was worth forcing himself into rest before the day came. Hopefully, the sun would rise soon; it had probably been long enough.

Hajime sat up and looked around at his sleeping friends. They looked calm, and their faces were smoothed out by peace. Mikan was snuggled up to Sonia’s side, held by her classmate’s presence. A faint speck of moonlight dipped onto the floor. Everything seemed relatively okay. Except someone was missing.

Damnit Nagito! Hajime thought with frustration. Where the hell are you?

Suddenly, he heard a pattering from the other room. He tensed up. It sounded like footsteps. Could that be Nagito? He stood up and heard the noise again. After a slight deliberation, he decided to follow the sound. He slowly moved away from the sleeping room and slinked carefully into the halls.

Hajime looked around the area as he walked. He realized that he never liked hospitals; they always seemed dreary and upsetting long before the tragedy had begun. But seeing it abandoned gave it an entirely new sense. Still disturbing, if not more. The floors produced an echoic noise as he walked. The walls were old and broken with hints of a life that once had been.

“Nagito!” He cautiously called, “Where are you?” No response. He climbed a set of gray stairs to get to the upper floor. “Nagito?”

He turned into a large, elongated room lined with old hospital beds and ripped blue curtains. A shiver ran down his spine. A part of him pulled his arm to go back to the sleeping room and stop his exploration. It seemed like a smarter idea, but Hajime refused to listen.

He began to call out again, “Nagito-”

His words were cut short when a hand clapped over his mouth.

“Stop yelling,” Nagito whispered from behind him. Hajime froze.

Nagito’s voice was serious with a hint of urgency and oddly estranged from usual. He lowered his hand and started walking forward.

Hajime felt his body shiver and he took an unstable breath.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He questioned, chasing after him. Nagito shrugged, still walking forward.

“I was just exploring,” he answered, “but we have to be quiet or we’re going to wake the babies.”

Hajime stammered, “The...babies?”

Something was off. Hajime felt a chill rattle in his bones. Nagito was acting strange, stranger than he usually acts. Where was he going? What babies?

“In the incubator,” Nagito explained, his tone almost taking on some sort of exasperation. “The babies in the incubator are going to wake up if we’re too loud.”

“What-”

“Let’s go.”

Hajime followed Nagito past the room with the beds and into a long hallway. It was lined with what seemed like endless doors and lit by flickering fluorescent light. Each of the pale doors had a number, marking the room behind it. Nagito stared intently at each one.

“Hey, I really don’t think we should be deviating from the group,” Hajime reasoned. “For safety reasons, I mean. We don’t know what could happen.”

Nagito stopped and looked at him with genuine confusion.

He asked quietly, “What are you talking about?” There was a moment of silence. Hajime was too stunned to speak. Yes. His suspicions were affirmed. Nagito was definitely up to something. He was acting aloof as if he wasn’t planted onto the Earth and his brain was somewhere amidst the clouds.

“The group! Did you hit your head or something?” Hajime finally exclaimed. Nagito raised an eyebrow.

“I hope not,” he responded, turning around and continuing to walk down the hall. Hajime’s concern grew at the second.

“Nagito, cut it out…”

“Please!” Nagito shouted firmly. “The nurses told us to be quiet or we’re going to wake the babies! We’re going to get in trouble if you-”

“Snap out of it!” Hajime yelled, grabbing Nagito’s face with his hands and holding him tightly. The white-haired boy immediately stopped talking. His breath seemed to catch in his lungs.

The two of them stood in this position for a collection of moments. Nagito’s spiraling eyes began to de-escalate, fading into soft pools of light. The gears in his head seemed to slow down and the former frenzy had dissolved. Hajime felt the softness of the other’s face cradled in his hands.

He quietly reminded, “This place is abandoned, okay? There’s no nurses and um, no babies.”

Nagito paused for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Okay,” he whispered. Hajime dropped his hands from Nagito’s face to his shoulders.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly. The lull of the hospital buzzed subtly in their ears. Nagito smiled faintly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He responded, “I just got a little lost in the past.”

The two of them turned around and began to head back. For a second, they walked in utter silence. They only heard the sounds of their footsteps on the cold, smooth floor.

“Hey,” Hajime uttered, breaking the silence. “What just happened there?’” Nagito did not look at him. His gaze seemed to be plastered to the floor.

“Not entirely sure,” he replied. “Sorry for the hassle.” Hajime shook his head.

He clarified, “You don’t need to apologize, I just want to know.” A draft came in through a broken window and rustled the tattered curtains.

They silently continued walking through the building. Their presence left ghosts of themselves in the spaces they had previously taken up. Hajime decided it was best not to ask too many questions. Perhaps Nagito was honestly unsure of the weird occurrence. It was unusual, that was for sure. It was probably terrifying too. Yet, despite it all, the boy stopped walking and stared up to the ceiling.

“Well if you must know,” he explained frankly, “I have a bit of a connection to this place.” Hajime widened his eyes. Was Nagito opening up to him? Was he going to get a response after all?

“This place?” He repeated in disbelief, looking up at the bleakly decorated walls. “It looks like it came straight out of a horror movie.”

Nagito laughed. “Well it doesn’t look particularly stunning, of course,” he admitted. “But it is where I spent most of my childhood.”

Hajime hesitated. He shot Nagito with a bewildered expression.

“Here?” He asked. The other nodded.

“Shocking right?” He recalled, “Remember, back in the Killing Game, when I told you I was sick?”

Hajime tried his best to think. Truthfully, he had blocked out a vast majority of the Killing Game since his awakening.

“We were in the Fun House...I think that was the case anyway.” Nagito recollected, rubbing his chin with his pointer finger.

The memories started to rush back into Hajime’s mind, sending his body off balance. When he thought about it, he did recall. He remembered the artificial bright lights inside the room and how he explored the area with Nagito in a similar fashion to what they were doing now. He remembered exuberant, glaring pinks blinding his eyes. Strawberry pink, to be precise.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re talking about,” he said. “And I sort of remember you saying something about being, well, ill.”

Nagito explained, “I had some kind of brain disease; I can't remember the name. For all I know, it’s still there. Been a long time since I had it checked out.”

Hajime nodded. “Sounds familiar, you’ve told me before,” he remembered. He thought for a moment, reflecting on the concept. He said in a graver tone, “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Are you really?” Nagito inquired. Hajime perked up in surprise.

“Yeah, of course,” he asserted. “That’s a shitty thing to go through as a kid.” Nagito shrugged and kept walking forward.

“You get used to it after a while,” he murmured. “Plus, I probably deserved it.”

Hajime opened his mouth to speak but found that he couldn’t. His heart was racing. How was he supposed to respond to such a desolate statement? He muddled in the awkward silence, searching his mind for words.

“You shouldn’t say that about yourself,” he finally muttered. “That’s cruel.” There was a hesitation between the two of them. Nagito gazed at Hajime with a difficult expression. Hajime expected him to say something, anything, but he did not.

They reached the bottom of the gray staircase. Hajime reached over to open the door to the lower floor when Nagito grabbed his arm.

“I don’t think the group is going to wake up anytime soon,” he figured. “Could I show you something?”

Hajime held his breath. “Um…I don’t know…”

“C’mon Hajime,” Nagito interrupted, rolling his eyes in a juvenile demeanor. “I promise you it won’t take that long.”

Hajime looked longingly through the door window. The sweet comfort of letting the next day arrive beckoned to him. Yet, some part of him wanted to stay with Nagito. At least to be sure that the boy wouldn’t hurt himself.

“Okay,” he submitted reluctantly. “What do you want to show me?” He turned around to see Nagito quickly climbing back up the stairs. Disoriented, he yelled, “Hey! Wait for me!”