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“It's starting to rain...” Another drop fell and rolled down Komaeda's cheek. He called after the stiff back of the one who was walking ahead of him. “Hey. Where did you plan on going? We should stop somewhere around here until it passes.”
He didn't expect him to turn around. And he didn't.
“'We'?” he asked, not even inclining his head as he continued to walk along the cracked sidewalk. Strangely, his voice carried a vague sense of curiosity and none of the irritation Komaeda would have expected from someone who seemed so aloof. “I did not invite you. Why are you following me?”
Tugging the straps of the school bag he was carrying over one shoulder, Komaeda hastened his pace so he could walk at his side. It was difficult to keep up with him when he was keeping such a brisk pace. Komaeda was already getting winded. “Uh... That's obvious, isn't it? I mean, you're the ultimate hope, aren't you? I have an obligation to follow you. Though, if you say I'm in your way...”
“It does not matter.”
Suddenly, he stopped and Komaeda collided with his back. He looked up, his cheeks warm, his heart beating wildly from their closeness, but... He wasn't looking back at him. The other's stoic gaze was fixed on some other thing. Feeling unexplainably jealous, Komaeda followed where he was looking.
To their right, there was a small apartment building. The two buildings it had once been situated between had been decimated, reduced to nothing but piles of rubble stacked high with sharp pieces of furniture and other fixtures sticking out of the wreckage like carnage. Komaeda was afraid to even think about what could have demolished a building like that. At least the mess didn't look recent...
And as long as he was with him, then he probably had nothing to fear.
“This will do.”
He stepped away before Komaeda could right himself. He stumbled as a result, flailing embarrassingly before he jumped up and ran after him, toward the entrance of the apartment.
“Hey, hang on. There's something I've been meaning to ask you,” Komaeda said. Before reaching the front doors, the other turned around and fixed his red eyes on him, waiting for his question, unexpectedly. His intense stare made Komaeda feel somewhat nervous, flashing back to his sudden first encounter with him. “I know your name, but I was wondering what you would like me to call you. You aren't my senpai, but we weren't classmates, either.”
“It does not concern me.”
“Sure it does. It's your name. Will you be okay with it if I call you 'Kamukura-san'?”
“Do as you wish.”
No matter what he said, Komaeda felt obligated to ask. He knew that this Kamukura Izuru person was someone very dangerous. Even if Komaeda didn't get the feeling he would hurt him, he wanted to be careful around him. Everything about him from his red eyes to his cold and impersonal manner told him that he needed to take warning. It would have been naïve to underestimate him.
That had been her mistake.
If only their class rep had listened to him...
An odd feeling clawed at him from the inside. When he thought about their faces, he felt short of breath. Without a doubt, that feeling was despair, but it didn't overwhelm him. In a matter of seconds, that terrible feeling made his lips curl into a grin as he recalled their faces twisted with anguish and despairing delight.
He hated seeing them that way. A part of him had been crying out then, desperate to turn back time to reverse the things he witnessed, but that part was gradually silenced and replaced by a sense of excitement. It was so exciting. His beloved classmates had done such terrible things – things unfitting of those who were supposed to be the world's pillars of hope – and yet it was...
It was exciting.
Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, surely, eventually, they would emerge from the chrysalis of despair as dazzling hope, brighter than ever before.
“You too...” Kamukura stared, but Komaeda didn't understand what he was talking about or thinking. “A shame. Boring.”
'A shame'? What was?
He was?
If Kamukura had the capacity to think he was a shame, then didn't that mean he had expectations of him? Kamukura may have seemed empty, but there had to be something going on inside his head. There was no way he could be thinking with pure, unbiased logic. He was a human being, not a computer.
Komaeda wanted to find out. He wanted to know what the Ultimate Hope really thought of him.
Right when he opened his mouth, Kamukura turned away from him and opened the door, leaving him standing at the entrance alone. They really weren't walking with each other. The illusion that he was accompanying him was only in his own mind; Kamukura had made that clear. He didn't appear to have concern for anyone other than himself. Though, Komaeda wondered if he even had concern for himself, considering how little he cared about his own name.
A name was...
Well, as they said, a rose could be called anything and it would still have the same lovely fragrance. Even if he had a different name, Kamukura Izuru would have been Kamukura Izuru.
He may have been someone else, once. That was a thought that Komaeda was unable to escape. The Ultimate Hope was someone's science project, but he was most certainly human. Somewhere inside of him, there was probably another face buried under the layers and layers of talent. But Komaeda didn't know whether he would've wanted to meet that foundation.
The thought of a normal boy existing beneath Kamukura's hope was a bothersome thought.
He knew that he was just something artificial.
And yet he kept following him.
Why, he wondered? As dark grey clouds gathered overhead, shivering and huddling together, and as the rain continued to fall and became more persistent, the dark feelings that clouded his mind also accumulated. They became a blur of rushed whispers in his head and they all shared the same voice. He never wanted to hear that voice again. It pointed toward Kamukura's back and laughed mockingly.
He breathed and went inside the building.
It was pitch black inside. The city was falling apart – or maybe it was more accurate to say that it was being torn apart. His classmates were a vestige of the hope they once represented, and, as much as he believed in the hope they would become, Komaeda wasn't blind to the destruction they had caused. The city looked like a war zone. It practically was, although there was nothing that could battle the despair that devastated it. It was a rather one-sided and pathetic conflict.
“Are you sure it's safe?” Komaeda asked, squinting, trying to see into the dark corners of the first floor. The chill of the rain made him shiver. “I'm afraid I haven't found anything to defend myself with around here. This whole area seems pretty dangerous, especially for someone like me. I'm just a high school student, you know?”
Kamukura was hunting through the darkness. The light from the entrance was being quickly consumed by shadows as the weather outside worsened. He moved toward the wall and pressed his hand along it as he walked, blindly searching for a light switch. It was difficult to see him when he reached the opposite wall, his black suit causing him to blend in.
Eventually, he returned, shaking his head.
“I found the switch,” he said. Judging from his face, Komaeda hadn't been able to guess that he'd found anything at all. “It did not work.”
So he really hadn't found anything.
Komaeda tugged on the bag over his shoulder and continued to scan the shadows. “Huh. I wonder if there's anything we can do about this.”
“There is no power.” What he really must have meant was that the lights couldn't work. The building was in terrible condition, so its source of power must have been destroyed. “This will do for the moment.”
“No power... I see,” Komaeda said, nodding. He couldn't think of anything to add, so he just ended up parroting his words.
Naturally, Kamukura ignored the elevator. Komaeda followed behind him as he continued, but stopped when Kamukura came to a sudden halt. He was careful not to run into his back that time.
“What's-”
Komaeda closed his mouth, seeing the deathly serious look on Kamukura's face. That dreadful feeling like a warning returned to him as he read his rigid, tense body language. He was waiting for something. He was looking at something, but Komaeda couldn't see what he was looking at. But there had to be something there. Despite having known him for only a short while, Komaeda understood that he did nothing without reason.
In the silence, he heard a faint noise.
Kamukura was completely still, but Komaeda heard the sound of breathing.
“Come out.”
A heavy second passed, then, suddenly, from out of the shadows at the far end of the entrance hall, a man leapt toward them wielding a knife. With it raised high over his head in an unusual position no one would have been courteous enough to call a technique, he charged toward Komaeda, yelling like a wild animal. In that half second, Komaeda saw everything and knew how easy it would have been to avoid his reckless maneuver, but he wasn't able to move his body. His feet remained fixed to the floor even though his mind was shouting at his body to get out of the way.
He couldn't even close his eyes.
But that was good. If he had blinked, he would have missed what happened.
Without moving a single step, Kamukura grabbed the man by the throat with one hand before he was able to reach him. He looked at him out of the corners of his eyes, totally silent, commanding him with his eyes and the strength of his grasp. Their attacker must have known that if he didn't relent, he was going to have his neck snapped. He was breathing erratically, in hysterics, but he lowered his arms and submitted, dropping his knife with a clatter.
As soon as he was released, he ran away and left the building, wailing loudly.
After a few seconds, Komaeda was finally able to move and breathe again, as if he had been released from an invisible cage. He tried not to let his nervousness show on his face, but he noticed that Kamukura wasn't looking in his direction anyway.
“Oh, hey, a knife,” Komaeda said, noticing the knife that the man had dropped. He knelt down and picked it up. “I hope I won't have to use it, but having this will make me feel a lot more at ease. This place is dangerous.”
“You are not afraid of me?” Kamukura asked. As usual, he only asked him a question for the sake of receiving an answer. There was nothing special about it. No deeper meaning.
“Did I say I wasn't?” Komaeda said, inspecting the dirty edge of the knife. It wasn't a dagger; not a knife that was made for hunting or hurting. It was just an ordinary kitchen knife – a little on the big side, but not something that was ever intended to be stained in human blood.
He didn't have anywhere to store it safely, so he held on to it. He was wary of Kamukura, but he didn't intend to use it on him. Even if he attacked him, Komaeda had the feeling that he would have found himself frozen again and unable to defend himself. That must've said something about him. He wasn't suicidal... Not really. He didn't want to die, but if it were for hope... If it were by that man's hands, then...
Kamukura's eyes darkened. For the first time, Komaeda thought he saw an emotion in them.
It left a sour taste in his mouth. That look made him feel like he was being judged.
Still... Kamukura had been the one to save him. Did he really have no concern for others? It seemed odd that a person like him would bother rescuing someone he spited or found useless.
Komaeda couldn't tell. He didn't understand why he saved him. If he'd been worried only for himself, he could have just as easily killed that man... Did he think he was sparing him from having to witness someone die? That was a laugh.
It was troubling. Although, to Kamukura, his thoughts would have probably just seemed boring and inconsequential. Did he not ponder the same things? Was even that tiresome to him?
He was hope, wasn't he?
Then it was rather mysterious that hope looked like a formless shadow. It didn't fit the image Komaeda had in his head.
Like none of that had just happened, Kamukura walked away from him and pushed open the door to the stairs. It got stuck on its rusty hinges and stayed open. He didn't bother to push it back, so Komaeda followed after him while it was open.
It was even darker inside the stairwell. It was difficult to even see the first step, so Komaeda touched the railing with the hand holding the knife and slowly made his way upwards behind Kamukura, being cautious of his footing.
It was approaching nighttime outside, but even if it were daylight, no light would have made it into that stairwell. In the stagnant silence that smelled like smoke, Komaeda couldn't resist another shiver. He hadn't been drenched, but his clothes still felt cold from the rain. His put his eyes forward, squinting, and tried to watch Kamukura's back. His shoulders didn't appear to quiver at all from the rain and cold. Naturally, he didn't complain, either.
The sight of those shoulders resisting the simplest human response made Komaeda want to wrap his arms around them.
He wanted to blame his foolish, romantic heart for such a thought, but he'd felt the same thing the moment he met him. It was an instant impression.
Like staring into an infinite black void, Komaeda saw many things in him, including himself.
He hated himself and his luck, but he loved that person who appeared to have everything and nothing. Kamukura had the potential to embody all of his ideals while having none of his flaws. He was limitless.
There was no question why he loved him. It wasn't every day Komaeda met someone whose luck could rival his own. No matter what he looked like or how he acted or what he did, even if he didn't look like what Komaeda expected hope to look like, Kamukura was hope to him. As a thanks to him for simply existing, he wanted to keep following him, seeking more of the light cast by his shadow while being as useful to him as his useless self could be.
He wanted to make the Ultimate Hope shine.
When they reached the second floor of the small building, Komaeda stopped a short distance behind Kamukura and waited. Kamukura stopped in front of the door for a moment, probably listening for more movement. Without voicing his thoughts, he opened the door.
On the other side, they encountered a destroyed hallway. The wall in front of them was gone and rain fell ceaselessly into the center of the hall, pouring from the floor above like a waterfall. Kamukura turned around. As he came toward him, Komaeda moved back instinctively, like he was being repelled by an invisible force. He didn't need to ask Kamukura anything to understand the problem he had with a flooded hallway.
They passed by the next floor, aware that they would find it in similar condition, considering the broken ceiling they saw on the second floor.
On the fourth floor, the wall was crumbled similarly, but they had a floor and a ceiling.
“Even for me, this is pretty sad,” Komaeda muttered, looking through the gap in the wall to the dark sky outside. “If my standards get any lower, I'll be living in the gutter.”
He thought he heard something.
“Was that... Was that a laugh? Did you just laugh at me?” He curled his fist around the handle of the knife and stamped his foot, looking at Kamukura, expecting an answer. Kamukura, however, turned away again, hiding his face. That wasn't enough to stop Komaeda from racing around him to check his face, but when he got there, he didn't see a trace of an expression.
Kamukura let out a breath, sounding like he was already tired of his antics. “It was your imagination.”
“I can't tell if you're being funny right now...” That could've been a joke. “If you're the Ultimate Everything, then you're probably the Ultimate Comedian, too. I bet you know some great bits. Can you make me laugh?”
“Are you testing me?”
“Huh? N-no... What gave you that idea?” He was just curious.
“I still do not understand why you are following me. Do you admire talent that greatly? You too will lose interest in me eventually.”
“Hang on, why do you think-”
...'Too'?
So that was it.
It was almost impossible to tell from his impassive facade, but there was a great fear within Hope's Peak's perfect Kamukura Izuru. Komaeda thought it may have just been his own emotional heart that made him think so, but he felt certain that he'd seen a glimpse of his true feelings. (Feelings! He knew he had to have them.) Had it been spoken by anyone else, that one sentence would have sounded like a lamentation.
He was being compared to the people who made him.
His creators were Hope's Peak scientists. They weren't gods or anything special.
Komaeda moved back but kept a careful eye on him. “So what I heard was true, then. They were planning to kill you if they found you.”
“That is unfortunately correct.”
“Because of Enoshima?”
Kamukura was silent for a moment, but there was clear malice in his eyes. “Yes. It is because of her that everything is the way it is now. She promised me something impossible. There is nothing interesting about despair. In the end, everything reaches the same dull conclusion. The world now looks even more bleak because of her influence.”
That was the most Komaeda had ever heard him say. He must have really hated Enoshima Junko.
Komaeda couldn't blame him.
He nodded slowly. “I see. Does that mean you hate despair?”
Kamukura didn't even take a second to think. “No.”
“Good answer.” He didn't know what he was going to do with himself if Kamukura had said that he hated it. The only right answer was to love it and hate it at the same time. No one could exist without it. Without despair, there wouldn't have even been a need for hope.
Once again, Kamukura turned away wordless and walked around him, heading down the hall. He stopped at the first door he came to and waited like before, then tried the door handle. It appeared to be locked – which was no problem for him. He lifted one hand and the light shove he gave the door was enough to break the lock. He pushed it open and calmly went inside.
It wasn't as dark inside that room as Komaeda expected. There was a faint light coming from somewhere. The audible sound of rain told him that there had to be another hole in the building. If it was bad enough, he wondered if Kamukura would make them relocate again or if he was going to settle for it.
As Kamukura went ahead, Komaeda touched the wall and found the light switch. He gave it a flick, but nothing happened. For the heck of it, he tried it a few more times in rapid succession, but it appeared that even his luck couldn't make it work like magic. Remembering that they still might not be safe, even in a room that had been locked and appeared abandoned, he clutched the knife he was holding.
To his right, he found the door for the bathroom and slowly opened it, holding the knife in front of himself. He nervously peeked inside and waited, but he didn't sense any movement. Since Kamukura wasn't looking, he tried the lights in there too, also to no avail.
At least the bathroom looked clean and useable from what he could see. He went to the sink and tried the faucet.
No water... That wasn't good either, but things could've been worse, he figured.
Curious to find out what Kamukura was up to, Komaeda went back out and entered the living area. The wall was damaged there too, but it was nothing like the severe damage they'd seen on the other side of the building. They had a roof over their heads to adequately protect them from the rain and the height of the fourth floor put them at an advantage. Hopefully.
Komaeda found him sitting on the couch on the side of the room facing the wall with the hole. It was almost like he was watching the rain, but he probably wasn't doing anything at all.
“The water isn't working,” Komaeda informed him.
“An inconvenience, but I will not be here for long.”
“Did you check the bedroom yet?” Komaeda asked.
“It looks sufficient.”
Komaeda wondered what 'sufficient' meant by Kamukura's book. He dropped his bag by the couch and decided to leave the knife there as well, on a cushion next to Kamukura. Out of the corners of his eyes, Kamukura looked at him and noticed the knife, but he didn't say or do anything. With one more cautious glance at him, Komaeda went over to the bedroom and opened the door. There was something surreal about walking into another person's bedroom, especially under the circumstances. Even if the whole building was abandoned, Komaeda felt like he was intruding.
The room's previous occupant could have been dead... Yet there were signs of them everywhere. Even if he didn't know who they were, he got a sense of what kind of person used to live in that room from the little things; an old plaid shirt hanging over the back of the desk chair, the closet door that was left slightly ajar, the half-full glass of water on the desk and the bottles of medication around it...
He stepped back out and closed the door.
A small, unsettled laugh escaped from his mouth. “There's only one bed. You can have it if you want. I can't sleep in there.”
“A bed is a bed,” Kamukura said, as if he were keeping the offer open for him to take it. But it also felt like he was judging his reasons for turning it down.
“It's gotta be better than whatever they gave you at Hope's Peak, right?” Komaeda asked. Kamukura didn't respond to that.
The idea of what he thought Kamukura Izuru would be like changed once he finally met him for himself. For someone so perfect, he was expecting an air of intelligence and sophistication or at worst an insufferable ego, but when he met him, he got the distinct impression that his creators had poured a lot of attention into him while ignoring him at the same time.
He wasn't going to press it. As he'd already discovered, Kamukura knew how to feel, but he didn't know how to express those feelings.
He was probably resentful.
Deciding to let it go and enjoy whatever companionability the two of them had, Komaeda picked up his bag and sat down next to him. He didn't ask if he was allowed because he knew that Kamukura may have gotten up and given him the whole couch just to get away from him. Komaeda started rifling around in the bag with one hand, looking through the assortment of things he brought with him. It wasn't much.
“I brought some food, but we won't be making any instant noodles if we can't even boil water. I have some crackers, but...” He looked at Kamukura, studying the side of his face. “You can have them.”
“That is not necessary.”
“Of course it is. You may be the ultimate Ultimate, but you still need to eat. You're a human being.” He took out the box of crackers and thrust them toward Kamukura's chest. When he let go, the box just dropped into his lap.
Following a sigh, Kamukura picked up the box and turned to him. “You look like you need it more than I do.”
“Wait...” He was willing to set aside the way that sounded like a criticism of his appearance for the moment. “You aren't actually concerned about me, are you?”
“I am simply stating a fact. Save it for yourself.” Kamukura handed him back the box.
It was more than that. It had to be.
Komaeda took back the box of crackers and put them back in his bag. He would have him eat some later, one way or another. For the time being, he sat back and turned his eyes toward the ceiling, wondering what he was going to do. He wanted to keep following him wherever he went. Part of him was already becoming attached to him.
No – not 'becoming'. It had been like that from the start.
When Komaeda turned his head and looked at Kamukura again, he found him with his eyes closed. His hands were resting in his lap and his breathing was even. It was the calmest Komaeda had ever seen him. For someone who always appeared to be calm, that was quite impressive. His body wasn't giving off the same feeling of danger that he was used to, like every one of his muscles was relaxed. There was an alluring sense of serenity about his new presence.
Komaeda hated to disturb him, but there was something on his mind. “Kamukura-san... You haven't fallen asleep, have you? Can I... ask you a favor? Rather, there's... something I'd like to try.”
He opened his eyes. Of course he hadn't been asleep. Kamukura probably wouldn't sleep until he was sure that he was asleep first. “Go on.”
“You'll hear me out?” It wasn't like he was automatically agreeing to whatever he asked, but Komaeda was happy that he was giving him a chance. “This might sound a little strange, but can I hug you?”
“For what reason?”
“Nothing much.” He still wanted to know just how much Kamukura was capable of feeling, but there was also his desire to feel more of that hope inside of him. For some reason, despair didn't seem to fuel Kamukura's hope – probably because he was already the pinnacle. There had to be some other way to unlock his potential. “I guess you could say I'm like you in some ways. People use me when they see me as a convenience, but then they toss me away and forget about me. I've learned how to use that to my own advantage, but I have to admit that it makes me kind of lonely. Do you understand what that's like? I haven't felt the touch of another human being since my parents died. I think you'll benefit from it, too.”
Kamukura's body still looked relaxed. It may have been the late hour, but it was hard to believe that he would have dropped his guard, regardless of the time.
“There would be no benefit in that for me. There is nothing one cannot accomplish alone. What you are seeking is an unnecessary emotional preoccupation which you would be better off abandoning. Camaraderie, romance, and family are illusions. Just like despair. ”
“But everyone needs those things, especially if they want to know hope. Are you telling me that you don't feel anything? I already know that can't be true. You're supposed to be the Ultimate Hope, but what is 'hope' to you? Do you even know?”
Komaeda worried that he'd pressed him too hard. He took his silence as a bad sign.
After a few long and laborious seconds that seemed to exist only to make Komaeda feel uncomfortable, Kamukura responded. “Even emotions are predictable and boring.”
He wouldn't stand for such an answer, especially from him. “But hope is also a feeling.” He brought his legs up onto the couch and sat on his knees, bringing himself closer to Kamukura, forcing him to look in his direction. “It's the power that opposes despair. You're supposed to be hope, so how do you not know that? You sided with Enoshima Junko, but why? Why would you do that?”
“Hope means something different to each individual. To me, hope is a boring thing. It is stagnation in tranquility.” He said that, but he didn't look pleased with his own answer. In comparison, Enoshima's despair hadn't been able to offer him anything different. “To you, what am I?”
After all of that, Komaeda hadn't expected to find himself on the receiving end of a question, let alone one that felt so heavy. There were words ready on his tongue that his mouth wanted him to speak, but he hesitated, feeling like he needed to think carefully about his answer. At its simplest, he would have told him that he was hope – he already said so – but it went beyond that; there was more to it.
He'd already figured out why Kamukura was his own personal hope.
But was it alright to tell him?
Kamukura was cold and acted unfeeling and Komaeda frequently got the impression he was judging him, but he was still listening to him, and he'd asked him a question, and he even seemed genuinely curious to know his answer. And Komaeda wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell someone the things he was thinking, even if it was someone like him.
“I don't know if you're aware of this... Our luck seems to cancel each other out. However, when I'm around other people, there's no way for me to control it. It does whatever it wants. It took my parents. It's destroying my body. I also have good luck, of course. Because of it, I've never hurt for money, but... Well, look around us. Money can't buy me happiness in this despair-infested world now. My 'good luck' is completely useless.” He laughed bitterly to himself, at himself. His breath faltered just as it was about to turn into a sob. “But then there was you. Since I began following you, I've experienced nothing that could be described as good or bad luck. To me... To me, that's hope. Before I die, I'd like to experience a normal life like that.”
“Even though it would be boring?”
“Boring?” Komaeda laughed again, surprised. “I don't know what you mean. I'd be really happy if nothing happened.”
“So next to me, you have no luck at all. In that case, you truly are a boring person. If your talent can be overshadowed that easily, then you really are completely average.”
That was the sad truth of the matter. “I understand. I wish I had a more useful talent. I wish I could be someone as magnificently talented as you, who could bring hope to the whole world. I think that would be marvelous. But... I know my place. That isn't who I am. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to become a beacon of light for others. Because my talent does nothing but harm people, I would rather have no talent at all.”
“Your talent makes you that unhappy?”
Komaeda nodded, letting out a breath. At least he'd managed not to cry.
“You wanted me to hold you.”
It was supposed to be the other way around, but Komaeda didn't question what he said. It sounded like he was finally willing to oblige his request.
Kamukura didn't look like he was interested in moving for his sake, so Komaeda repositioned himself, getting as close as he was allowed so he could wrap his arms around his waist. Gently, he rested his head on his shoulder and gradually relaxed when he was sure that Kamukura was alright with it. His body didn't feel as stiff as he expected. He felt muscular beneath his suit but also soft and warm.
Was that what everyone felt like? Komaeda couldn't remember.
“Average...” he mumbled against his shoulder, repeating what Kamukura had said. “That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever called me.”
“I do not understand...”
“You? There's something you don't understand? I thought you were supposed to know everything.” Hoping he wasn't overstepping his boundaries again, Komaeda tilted his cheek against Kamukura's shoulder and looked up at his face. “For all of your talent, you aren't happy, are you? I thought I'd be happier if I had a better talent, but I guess what they say about the grass being greener must be true. When someone's as talented and intelligent as you, the whole world must look like one big rerun.”
There wasn't anything fun about being perfect. Thinking about it like that, Komaeda felt bad for him. It was hard to tell whether 'lonely' was the right word to describe him, but there was certainly something sad about his expression when Komaeda looked at him with that thought in mind.
The rain was falling inside.
Watching it as it was reflected in Kamukura's eyes, Komaeda held on to him a little more tightly, hoping that he could at least share his warmth with him. The room was getting colder as the storm continued to intensify. They would have been better off in the bedroom where the rain couldn't reach them, where there was a bed and blankets, but, for the time, Komaeda wanted to remain there by his side, just like that.
“There's got to be something that can make even you feel excited,” he supposed, thinking out loud. “If you'd like, I could try to help you find it. I might not be very helpful, though... And I... I'd really just like to stay near you. If that's alright.”
The two of them... They were a pretty sad picture, weren't they? The world was cruel to them.
But there was hope in that sad picture, Komaeda thought. They were bathed in despair, living on the razor's edge in a world where the sun stopped shining, where it rained constantly, where tomorrow looked despairingly predetermined. It had to have been the work of his luck that allowed him to find hope in such a situation.
It wasn't all bad. The chill he felt only reminded him that there would be a day when the sun would return.
So it was beautiful.
The warmth he felt beneath his cheek was anything but cold.
“As long as you stay out of my way...”
“I'll do my best. You won't even know I'm there.”
The rain continued to fall, the cold penetrated Komaeda's bones, and Kamukura held him.