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It was a fact of life, see, that everyone had a name imprinted into their forearm. Their soulmate's name. Blemished and strewn about in a faint, black ink would be the name of a person who would change your life forever, whether as lovers, as friends, or even mortal enemies—their mere existence would change the course of your life forever, and despite (or even in spite) of what you did, you would inevitably cross paths.
Many focused on the romantic aspect of soulmates, naturally. The happy-ever-afters, the true loves; those were all well and good, but Komaeda found a personal interest in the more non-conventional facets. For example, circa 1940, a man and a woman would come into contact, both of their arms brandishing the others name. Despite the then widely accepted notion that all soulmates were romantic in nature, the two never concluded with a relationship. In fact, it was well known both were gay and lesbian respectively, and would participate in the Stonewall Riots in 1969. Dating much, much further back, circa 2055 BC, two great rulers of Ancient Egypt—one Herakleopolitan and the other of Thebes—would battle over growing tensions in prehensions of land, among other factors. Though impossible to verify in the modern day, it is widely believed the two rulers actually bore the other's name on their bodies, as a number of historical artwork depicting such a phenomenon can be located. Despite being rivals and engaging in war, this conflict brought about a period of cultural and economic renaissance, leading to an era of prosperity.
And while that's all well and good, Komaeda is aware that the name on his arm has nothing to do with great wars of times passed. If anything, it's probably just going to be a boring case of finding this person, falling in love, and etcetera. Not that Komaeda minded the idea of a peaceful, steady life such as that; it was just intrinsically boring. But, that's okay. He doubted he could ever be a part of anything half as magnificent as a cultural revolution.
There's just one problem. A very simple, yet pressing issue: Komaeda is pretty sure he already knows who he wants to spend his whole life with, romantic or not, and it's in the form of his best friend, a charming girl his age. The issue?
Well, the name on his arm not only isn't hers, but it isn't even a girl's name.
Her name is Hikari. She's the most stunning, most beautiful, funniest yet sarcastic girl—and person—Komaeda has ever met. She has messy short brown hair, and equally as passionate brown eyes to match. It's a bit of a wonder they get along so well; Komaeda has always, admittedly, been someone who's favored people of exceptional talent. After all, if it weren't for those who were talented, the world would be a much bleaker, underdeveloped place. Despite this, Komaeda finds a great solace and appreciation in Hikari, a girl who has no talents at all. Maybe her talent is simply in how charming she is, but she has no real skills.
For once though, Komaeda thinks that's okay. He doesn't really care, honestly. He's never had a real friend before, and not one quite like her. Talentless or not, he doesn't want to lose that.
"Nagito," she says, although it's not to grab his attention, but rather as a muse, like his name is part of a larger sentence. "That's a girl's name."
Komaeda laughs at the brashness of her tone. "Is that such an issue?"
"I guess not." She shrugs noncommittally. "I would just be pissed to have a girl's name if I were a guy."
Komaeda mirrors the shrug. "Well, I like my name. I'd have to," he waves a hand in a vapid gesture. "It'll be on somebody's arm forever, unfortunately for them."
"Cosmetic surgery exists," Hikari points out.
"Ah, I guess that's befitting. Shelling out hundreds of dollars just to erase my pathetic existence, huh?"
Hikari smacks him lightly; she's always been pretty strong for someone of her physique, or maybe Komaeda is just weak. She sneers, but Komaeda has known her long enough to tell it's entirely fabricated and she's not actually angry. "It was a joke, dumbass. Lighten up."
"I was joking, too. Come on, we'll be late for class if we stand around all day."
Hikari stutters both in words and movement, as if she has more to say, but ultimately concedes with a nod.
Komaeda realizes out of the blue one day, as he sits alone in his room mindlessly perusing books but never actually reading them, that they've never shown each other their arms.
That's not uncommon. Showing off your soulmate's name is considered rather personal, and so people elect to cover it up any way they can. It gets especially annoying in hot weather, or if you want to swim.
Not that there's any real benefit to showing Hikari his arm. In fact, there's only downsides; the world still isn't the most accepting place, especially in the East. What conclusions may she draw from him having a man's name on his arm? Of the fact he actually is bisexual? It was better to keep that stuff about himself hidden if he wants to keep his only friend in the whole world.
It still kind of sucks, though.
"Did you do that yourself?"
Of course she did, what professional barber would ever come up with a haircut so choppy and uneven? Hikari blushes with embarrassment; she doesn't meet Komaeda's eye, only running a hand through her new thin, choppy hairdo.
"Does it suck?" she mumbles.
"What? No! It...suits you!"
Hikari glares at him, her arms crossing. "Don't lie. You think it's horrible."
"Ah, well...maybe." Komaeda breathes the last word out, tittering. "Why do it yourself?"
"Because my parents would never let me get a haircut so short."
"Ah." Komaeda smiles sympathetically at the girl, his legs carrying him in a sort of autopilot pace. He circles around her to get a good look at the haircut from every angle, eventually saying, "You know, it's not that bad. It's kind of cute."
"Cute as in, pathetic cute?" she grumbles.
Komaeda laughs again, although this time it's fully out of humor. "No, it's just...cute. It, ah, shows your determination. Your drive to get things done yourself."
Hikari ignores the compliment, or at least doesn't directly respond to it. In lieu of that, her hand still cards through her jagged, staccato locks, eyes once again darting to the ground. "But it's more cool than cute, right?"
"Hm? Well, it is very boyish."
Her eyes dart back up to meet Komaeda's own before flickering back down. Her face heats up once again, but she doesn't seem shameful or embarrassed. If her subdued grin is anything to go off of, she appears rather pleased.
"Thanks."
Komaeda doesn't really get it, but she seems happy, so he supposes he doesn't need to.
Boyish is a great way to put it, actually.
He can tell Hikari is trying to be subtle about it and introduce these things in a slow, inconspicuous manner, but to Komaeda (or maybe just because he has nothing better to take interest in) it's very obvious.
Not that he would call Hikari a girly-girl by any means. She never was like that, even when he first met her. But she still definitely looked the part in her school uniform and short but feminine hairstyle. Between giving herself a new haircut, she's also been playing around with her outfit. The school they attend is pretty lax about dress code regulations—as long as you wear the blazer, anything goes. She's ditched the traditional skirt and socks that the girls uniform comes with and instead is now choosing to wear slacks and nondescript men's dress shoes. Not that Komaeda has an issue with it—he thinks she looks attractive no matter what she wears—it's just an odd and sudden change.
Hm.
Komaeda more and more has been fraternizing with the idea that soulmates...could be incorrect.
He knows it's a little childish of him, but he simply can't see anybody other than Hikari being his soulmate. She's already done so much for him, helping him get out of his shell and henceforth actually make new friends. He still considers her his only real friend, but she's introducing him to her other pals and his social circle has expanded exponentially. She makes his life a million times better, and he never wants to let that go, and if that isn't a soulmate, then what even is?
He knows he's only in highschool and has a whole life to look forward to, but the idea that some random man was pop into his worldview and mean more to him than her is just inconceivable. It's scary, too, because does that mean what he has with her won't last forever? That there will be someone who is more important than her? It's a scary change, and Komaeda doesn't like change. Most humans don't.
And it's doubly freaking him out, because Hikari keeps messaging him saying she has something important to tell him.
They don't talk over the phone; Hikari wants to meet him in person. Specifically in their school's courtyard.
The issue is, Komaeda has never, ever been good with maintaining a reasonable level of anxiety. Ever. He's the most anxious person he knows. And thus, a million horrid thoughts run through his mind, possible conversation openers from from my parents are dying to my parents are dead to I'm dying to I hate you and don't want to speak to you ever again.
And then, he worries if that's selfish of him, to worry that she hates him when a very real, lethal problem could be afoot. Is he making it all about himself, then? That'd be a new low, even for him.
He somehow manages to make it to the courtyard without incident, and furthermore to sit on the bench with his best friend without breaking into tears or squabbles of panic.
Hikari doesn't look particularly angry or even anxious; solemn would be a more appropriate descriptor, honestly. As the two sit in silence, staring at nothing in particular except the school's courtyard fountain, Hikari breaks the ice, luckily not using any of Komaeda's predetermined dialogue options from earlier.
"Komaeda..." her voice is a mumble like she's afraid to speak up. He joked about it before, but he really does admire her brashness that even extends to referring to people—friend or stranger—with no honorifics. It takes a certain kind of person to be that bold. "We're best friends, right?"
She practically races over the words. Komaeda laughs, because he can't help but laugh when he's nervous, or scared, or sad. "Of course we are. But, I understand if you want a best friend who's more likea—"
"Shut up," she commands, and so he does.
Her feet kick idly under the bench. "I trust you a lot, as my best friend," it's slow, methodical, "and you've always been a pretty accepting person."
"I could never, um, hate you, if that's what you're worried about."
She doesn't respond to the statement other than pursing her lips in a line that basically says 'that's not quite it', but otherwise doesn't comment. "It's complicated."
"What is?"
"Everything." She suddenly sounds very, very tired. "And I can't go to my parents for help, because they'd just throw me out."
The mention of that had Komaeda's eyes widening. "Surely not," he insisted. "Your parents are kind people—"
"Until you cross a line with them," Hikari finished bitterly.
Komaeda frowned, his expression showing nothing except of worry. "What's going on?" he asks timidly. "Hinata-san?"
"Please, don't call me that."
"Oh, ah, my apologies. I'm not very good at this whole 'friend' thing, still. Is Hikari-san okay...?"
"No, it's not," she replies. "I don't want to be called that. I want..." Hikari sighs shakily. "Can you call me Hinata-kun?"
"...Oh? I mean, sure." Komaeda titters. "I suppose it is more fitting for your tomboy image, right?"
"Komaeda, I'm not a tomboy."
"Oh, my mistake, I—"
"I am a boy."
Komaeda's words die in his throat, replace then by a soft noise of confusion. He wasn't adverse or anything, just wholly bewildered, and that probably reflected on his pale features. "Ah, you are? I'm confused. I thought..."
"I-I mean. I— I guess...I'm not physically, or whatever, but..." her idle kicking became more stressed and frantic. "I don't know how to put it, really. I just know I'm a man. I'm not a girl and never was. But if I told my parents that, they'd think I'm crazy, and kick me out." She let out a harsh sigh, and with startling fear Komaeda realizes how close to tears Hikari looked. "I mean, I know I'm right. I'm not just— just making shit up. But no one would believe me."
It took several long moments for Komaeda to process, mainly because he was unfamiliar with the concept. Despite his own bisexuality, he's never read up on extended topics or discussions. For him, his sexuality was just a given. It wasn't something he needed to express to others or worry about himself. It's just who he was, plain and simple. Maybe the same could be said here. Maybe that's how Hikari felt about her own— his own identity.
"I... understand. Ah, well, I don't mean to be presumptuous, but..." he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh, what I mean is... I believe you. If you say you're a man, then you are one to me, okay?" Komaeda smiled. "Hinata-kun."
Hikari let out a small 'oh' noise, his expression brightening up, looking genuinely moved. "Thank you," he murmured softly; the kicking of his legs ceased, and he instead wringed his hands together unconsciously. "Um, also..."
"Yes...?"
"I was thinking...about changing my name. Not—" his voice sped up defensively, "not right now! I mean, legally, in the future, I'd like to, since I don't like having a girl's name, and all..."
"Oh." Komaeda couldn't help but chuckle at the expedite. "I think that's a fine idea. Do you have a name in mind already?"
"Yeah. I do." He smiled almost sheepishly, playing with the tips of his ever choppy hair. "I was thinking... maybe 'Hajime'. It's basic, but it's like a new start, right?"
"H...Hajime."
"Yeah... Is there a problem with that name?"
Komaeda blinked once, twice, before shaking his head lightly, the soft whips of his hair slapping the corners of his face. "No, I think it's the perfect name for you."
It was kind of silly, looking back, to think fate could have been wrong. Turns out, he was just looking in the wrong places, worrying about the wrong things.
Hajime.
And turns out, the name on his arm belongs not to a stranger he's never met, but his best friend in the whole wide world. Someone he knows for a fact he wants to spend his whole life with, romantic or not, and it's in the form of his best friend, a charming boy his age.