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The lights were bright and burned his corneas as Nagito woke with a gasp, throwing himself upwards and crashing into the glass of the slow-opening pod. His breath came out in short, ragged pants, none supplying enough oxygen to calm his racing heart.
Footsteps.
He could hear pounding footsteps, closer and closer and closer until they were Right By Him.
His eyes refused to open, even when a familiar voice spoke.
'You are safe now, beloved,' the voice affirmed, and Nagito felt a hand on the small of his back, taking everything in him not to flinch away. Still, his eyes were tight shut. Safe was a lie, always was to Nagito Komaeda. He was dead, impaled by the creation of his own mind, he wasn't safe, he couldn't be. Still, the very real hand was still on his back, and the lights of the room burned red through his eyelids.
What was this?
'Nagito,' Came the voice, so familiar yet so different from anything he could remember, 'Nagito, you are safe, regardless of what you believe has occured,'
Shit.
That bastard bear must have saved him.
He pried his eyes open, expecting the bear himself, or worse, some half-pitying, half terrified classmate that his rotting brain had already forgotten.
He was met with something so much better.
The person beside the pod looked awfully similar to the gloriously dull Hajime, but their crimson eyes and long black hair suggested otherwise. Somewhere at the back of his brain, Nagito could feel the name of this mysterious person just itching to be found; of course, his luck would have such information destroyed just as he needed it.
The stranger 'smiled', crooked and far too toothy, and Nagito could have laughed if he weren't still panting for air. 'Nagito,' said the almost stranger, 'We have missed you.'
Nagito felt strong arms pull him into a hug, and buried his head in the crook of the person's neck, nestling in with silky smooth locks. It felt familiar, almost like belonging. Nagito chided himself for it; scum like him had no place to belong. The pair rocked gently as his breath finally evened out, head finally clearing of the fog on his mind.
'IZURU' He exclaimed, pulling backwards to confirm it; Izuru Kamukura, in the flesh, still ever willing to hug such a lowly worm as he. Izuru nodded, and Nagito returned to open arms. He must be dead, surely.
How did he know Izuru again?
'Your memory is likely colluded, beloved. Once you are feeling better and more aware, we can explain to you the happenings of the Neo World Program.' It sounded like a good idea, Nagito thought, though for now he just wanted to stay wrapped in the arms of the other. He didn't deserve it, but he would never deny his lover of affection.
The peace was eventually disrputed when another familiar voice spoke up, 'Hey, you're finally with us! We missed ya, dumbass.' Nagito looked up, and identified the voice; Fuyuhiko, still as short as ever. At least something made sense.
Soon, the room was filled with people that were definitely supposed to be dead. Altogether, they numbered 15, but there was no sign of Hajime or Chiaki. He assumed Hajime would show up, but there was a sinking, all too familiar feeling in his stomach as the boy thought of Nanami. Images of spears flashed in his mind - why? He wished the girl would show up, he missed her. So, in his blunt-as-ever way, Nagito asked.
'Not to insult the presence of any of you mighty ultimates, but where is Chiaki? Our class doesn't seem quite right without her, you see.' Everyone's faces fell. Oh shoot. Had he remembered her name wrong? Was Nagito too bold to refer to dear Nanami-san by her given name rather than her family one? Did she simply not want to be in the presence of such-
'Chiaki's dead-' Squeaked out Kazuichi, before being smacked around the head by Gundham.
'Ah yes, I believe most of us were, but given how we're all revived, I assume she's about?'
No one would give him an answer. Nagito looked to Izuru, whose eyes were vacant, and the memory came flashing back.
The arrow. The boulder. The saws. The spears.
So many spears.
Someone, maybe him, let out an anguished scream. Nagito wasn't awake for much longer, the pained screams coming from supposedly him faded with his consciousness.
Days, weeks passed on the island. Hajime, who fronted more often than his more successful alter, had explained the future foundation's botched therapy program. Fuyuhiko had explained what he knew of their days in despair. Nekomaru helped the boy through physical therapy, and Teruteru sat him down and quizzed him for nearly 2 hours in order to work out his 'ideal flavour palette'. Chiaki wasn't there though. She was really gone. Nagito spent his time in Electric Avenue with Kazuichi, the machinery reminding him of Chiaki. His luck even allowed him to find a mostly-functional gamegirl colour, the same pastel purple as Chiaki's had been, and Kaz had scrounged around for its charger. Nagito couldn't bring himself to play it, but it sat on his bedside table, just as Chiaki's own would whenever they had a sleepover. Mahiru rescued photos of their former classmate from an old SD card, and Peko, Ibuki and Hiyoko made it their mission to create a shrine that would do their friend justice.
Nagito had lost people before, but that was a long time ago. He'd learned to push people away, to not have to drag them to their deaths by mere assosciation with him. But this stung; he'd been so selfish as to trust in Chiaki's bold assertion that his luck couldn't hurt her, that he didn't have to be afraid to be with her. How stupid he was to ignore the will of the universe; their class' hope snatched from them, all due to Nagito's greed.
There was a distress call from Naegi. Hajime picked it up, and within an hour the ragtag group were set aboard a ship headed for the foundation's building, helping out being their duty after the second chance at life they'd been handed. Nagito tagged along only because he was asked, and prayed his luck would be on his side this time. Izuru appeared for a brief moment to give orders to the 15 students, before pulling Nagito aside quickly to assure everything would be ok, that his luck was indeed in his favour, and that anything that happened would not be his fault. Nagito tried his best to believe them.
Turns out they were right. For the first time probably ever, Nagito's luck was truly, irrefutably, on his side.
Taking out hopewashed guards, while painful to Nagito's worldview, was child's play. Reassuring a former classmate that despair was necessary? Painful, yet still easy. And Nagito's luck was still so blatantly good. As most of his classmates headed back to get Ryota safely on the boat back to Jabberwock, Nagito wandered wherever his luck led him, which appeared to be straight to the younger former luck, Makoto Naegi himself.
'Komaeda!' Beamed the man, so bright and full of shining hope, 'It's great to see you're finally up!' Nagito nodded politey, trying not to snap at such unfounded praise from someone of Naegi's status, 'Actually, if your classmates aren't leaving for the island immediately, could I have a quick word with you?'
Never one to deny an ultimate, he nodded, and Naegi headed off somewhere, beckoning him to follow. By the time the pair made it to a small tent base, the elder was gasping for breath, a situation he found himself in far too often these days, even with the assistance of a wonderful manager.
'Please don't be too shocked,' Naegi started, 'But we found a certain person in Towa, just after we recovered you and Kamukura-san as remnants. She's been asking to see you.' Wonderful! Nagito thought, little Monaca or Kotoko must have been saved by the future foundation! I hope they'll be safe now!
Naegi drew back the tent's curtain, and Nagito followed him inside.
Chiaki's face lit up.
Chiaki.
Chiaki.
Chiaki Nanami, ultimate gamer, class representative, beacon of hope, love of his life, Chiaki Nanami.
Sat on a makeshift bench beside her underclassmen-turned future foundation agents.
Alive.
Safe.
She was there.
'Chiaki?' Her name escaped his lips before he could realise.
'Hey,' she said softly, her voice music to his ears, 'It's been a while,'
Nagito threw himself at the girl as fast as his wobbling legs could carry him, their bodies fitting together so perfectly even after so long apart. She clung fiercely to his neck like she'd never let go again, and his arms squeezed tight around her waist like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
'Chiaki,' he said again, followed by a sob escaping his lips, 'Oh, how I've missed you,'
'It's good to see you too, fluff-brain,' she whispered into his unbrushed mane, choking back sobs of her own. For what seemed like eternity, yet still not long enough, they stayed wrapped around each other, united after a lifetime apart. Eventually, Nagito was the first to pull away, only so as to finally meet her gaze after so many years. Her eyes were still such a beautiful soft pink, and they crinkled at the corners as she beamed. He cupped her cheek and ran a careful finger over a scar just above her eyebrow, clearly a mark long healed from Enoshima's spiteful charade. His eyes fluttered over the rest of her form and found scars littering her chest and arms, presumably the same under her skirt. It had happened. But she was here.
'Hey,' he said again, resting his forehead against hers.
'Hey.'