Chapter Text
Thick, heavy smoke curled around Kamukura as he ran up seven flights of stairs. It wasn't until he reached the sixth floor that the air started to clear somewhat. Fires ranked among his least favorite rescues. They weren't especially difficult, but he was fairly certain that long-term exposure to smoke would weaken him in some way, although his training only included information about instant dangers to his body, so he couldn't be sure. Either way, it wasn't a major concern. He was in the middle of a rescue, so that was that.
As with all rescues, this one was very easy. His hypersensitive ears led him to the one apartment that still contained a breathing person, and his legs broke down the door with all the ease of snapping a twig. With one glance, he analyzed the situation: the man writhing on the floor had broken his leg, leaving him unable to evacuate, and based on his shallow breathing, the smoke was affecting him more heavily than it would affect most people. Aside from those two issues, he seemed unharmed. The rescue should go without issue.
Kamukura started with his standard issue script, which he'd repeated several, several times that week already.
“Hello. Don't worry, I'm here to help. I'm a Hero. My name is Izuru Kamukura.”
A short greeting, followed by a reassurance, then he gave his credentials and allowed them to put a name to the face. Clean and dull, just like the half-smile he gave his rescuees.
The smile he got back from the man on the floor, though, was anything but dull. It stretched from cheek to cheek, shining through the just barely cloudy air.
“Hi! It’s very nice to meet you!” the man said before pausing to gasp for breath. His voice was especially raspy. He must have inhaled more smoke than Kamukura had initially assumed. Had it really taken him so long to get to the building? He'd thought he was early. None of the other Heroes had shown up, at least, but that didn't mean much.
“Don't talk more than necessary,” Kamukura ordered. “Do you suffer from any respiratory issues?”
The man nodded. “Asthma. But lost,” another gasp, “my inhaler.” He seemed lucid enough. Not panicking as much as many people would, but adrenaline had a way of making people act strangely. At least he wasn't screaming.
It would be a rough trip downstairs for him, but if he made it, then he should be fine. Several ambulances had already shown up, all with oxygen tanks. That would be enough to get him to the hospital, where he could be treated properly.
“I'm going to carry you downstairs. You're safe now.”
That wasn't entirely true, but many of the things Kamukura said weren't true. If it turned out he was wrong, then this man wouldn't be alive to hold it against him. The man nodded, then took another heavy breath.
“What's your... specialty?”
“Don't speak. On three. One, two...” Before he reached three, Kamukura lifted the man up, doing his best to jostle the man's leg as little as possible. The man still gasped in pain, but Kamukura hadn't caused any additional damage, so that wasn't of any importance to him. Once the man was situated in his arms, he lowered the man as much as he dared without risking letting him slip. In the rising smoke downstairs, those few inches could make all the difference between this man living and dying. It was quite possible that any other Hero who came by wouldn't be able to save him, but Kamukura was the best.
Kamukura moved downstairs as quickly as possible, paying no attention to the man's occasional pained groans as his leg was thrown about. He was still conscious and breathing, apparently, all the way down to the ground, where Kamukura dropped him off with the nearest paramedics to be treated. Kamukura ignored his casual wave goodbye and set off for the next emergency.
A young child had fallen in a river with a ferocious current, so Kamukura had thrown off his typical heavy protective wear and pulled her out, kicking and screaming and trying to drag him down. Children were always an irritating rescue. He deposited the unharmed child right into the arms of her crying caregivers and moved on.
Normally, Kamukura had to rely on his sensitive ears and intuition to find people in trouble, but no sooner had he stepped away from the caregiver and child did he witness, in incredible detail, two cars crash into an ambulance on either side. He didn't need breaks, but it was irritating to not even have a chance to dry off. There wasn't time to pull his entire protective suit over his button up and pants, so he just pulled on his thick gloves. That would probably be enough.
The two cars had warped the ambulance’s doors beyond repair. Kamukura glanced just once at either car. One driver had died instantly, while the other had survived and rushed out of the car, sputtering pointless apologies at him. He didn't have to worry about either one, then. His primary concern would be the people inside the ambulance.
A man stumbled up to him. Kamukura looked over his outfit. The ambulance’s driver, apparently. He was bruised and stunned, but no serious visible injuries.
“Is anyone in the back?” Kamukura asked.
The man nodded. “One patient... An EMT.”
It wasn't often Kamukura had to use all of his strength, but this was one of those times. The gloves protected his fragile human skin against the metal he bent, slowly forcing an opening wide enough to allow a few human bodies. Kamukura gestured at the standing figure to leave, but they looked down at the stretcher. They had a sense of dignity, apparently. How irritating. Kamukura climbed inside himself to take a look at the patient before he made any more moves. If there was no hope for the patient, he'd have to drag the EMT out himself.
“Oh! I-Izuru, right?” A muffled but familiarly raspy voice greeted him. The patient ripped off his oxygen mask, revealing a very familiar smile and a very pink face.
Kamukura’s entire life involved dealing with the unexpected, so there was very little that he actually considered unexpected.
This, though, was unexpected.
“I wasn't able to introduce myself earlier. I'm Nagito Komaeda!”
Kamukura looked down at him. This man had survived smoke inhalation only to get in a car crash, and now he was smiling up at Kamukura and trying to introduce himself. Kamukura should have taken that moment to take in the man's—Komaeda's—condition, but he found himself very briefly baffled, so instead he found himself noticing Komaeda's very distinctive white hair, messy oversized clothes, gaunt cheeks, and cheerful smile. The crease by his smile twitched in pain, and that brought Kamukura back to himself.
Komaeda's breathing was less shallow than before, but he was still clearly suffering from his asthma. Aside from that, he appeared exactly as he was when Kamukura had left him ten minutes ago. The crash hadn't impacted him.
“I tried to ask earlier,” Komaeda subtly paused to breathe, which Kamukura caught immediately, “but—”
“Don’t talk more than necessary. Put the mask back on”
Komaeda did as he was told. Belatedly, Kamukura remembered his script. Sloppy, sloppy work.
“Hello. Don't worry, I'm here to help. I'm a Hero. My name is Izuru Kamukura.”
This was addressed more to the pale-faced EMT than to Komaeda, who clearly recognized him and his purpose for being there. Kamukura directed his gaze towards the EMT. She was holding a bloody hand against her head. Most likely, she’d been standing when the accident occurred and she’d hit her head while falling. Sirens blared outside. That was good. Testing her for concussion and relaying the results to first responders would be annoying. All Kamukura had to do was get them out of the crumpled ambulance and hand them off, which he did with ease. Once he’d carried a still-talking Komaeda out, the EMT willingly followed after.
It was a strange situation, but the rescue had gone very smoothly, so he retrieved his protective suit from the riverbank, put the last two rescues out of his mind, and continued on with his day.
There was something very special about Izuru Kamukura, Komaeda deduced very quickly. It wasn’t just that he was inhumanly attractive (although he was, with his impossibly red eyes just the cherry on top of his perfectly proportioned, perfectly serious face), or even just that Komaeda had run into him twice within a day of moving to this city (although when a coincidence like that happened, Komaeda was sure his luck was involved in some way). No, it was that Komaeda had spent years researching Heroes, and he was absolutely certain that Kamukura’s skills were impossible for him to possess. No one single Hero could be as fast as Kamukura had been when he’d carried Komaeda down the stairs while also being as strong as Kamukura had to be to rip open the ambulance doors. It just wasn’t possible.
So, just two days later, when Komaeda found the ground shaking underneath himself in a new hotel (he hadn’t yet found a place to permanently reside, and the last hotel he’d stayed at was indefinitely closed), his first, selfish thought was that he might see Kamukura again. That was foolish, he immediately realized. An earthquake would affect the whole city, not just this one building. The Heroes would be run ragged, spread thin throughout the city. They’d probably only go where they were absolutely needed. He probably wouldn’t see a single Hero all day, let alone Kamukura.
Komaeda pouted as he crawled under a table to wait out the quake. What was the point of experiencing a natural disaster if he didn’t even get to see the Heroes at work?
A moment later, the walls of the hotel began to crumble inwards, the world around Komaeda becoming chaos.
The next minute was terrifying. The next hour was quite dull. The door wouldn’t budge, and he wasn’t nearly stupid enough to try to climb out the window, not from the fifth story, so he’d simply sat there and waited impatiently. He hadn’t been injured, luckily enough, though of course his leg was still broken and hurt quite a lot from crawling on the ground. Once the building had stopped moving, he’d grabbed a shirt from his suitcase and tied it around his face to block out the plaster dust, so his face was starting to get sweaty and rather gross.
After seventy three long, boring minutes, the door carefully, slowly opened. Standing there was Kamukura, covered in dust (although still beautiful), wearing a carefully blank expression that gave way only slightly when he laid eyes on Komaeda.
“Hi, Izuru!” Komaeda waved.
Kamukura was silent for a moment. “Hello. Don’t worry, I’m here to help.”
Komaeda couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Yes, I figured. It’s lovely to see you again! Oh, my name is Nagito Komaeda, in case you forgot. I’m afraid you’ll have to carry me again. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Have you sustained any injuries?” Kamukura asked, ignoring his chattering. “Today?”
“No. Hey, Izuru, I can breathe perfectly fine now! You don’t need to tell me to stop talking. So, can I ask—”
Komaeda let out a yelp as he found himself, without any warning, lifted into Kamukura’s arms again. Just like the first time Kamukura had had to carry him, Kamukura was wearing the thick, protective costume of the Heroes. It was always exciting to see, but not as exciting as the thinner, soaking wet clothes Kamukura had worn the second time he carried Komaeda. Those had made him sweat more than the fire had.
“Apologies. There are still others in the building. I cannot linger here.”
Kamukura quickly began moving, his gaze fixed on the building around them, but Komaeda still nodded. “Right. I wouldn't expect you to waste your time on someone like me. So, what's your speciality? Strength or speed?”
They were already on the stairs, now, Kamukura moving nimbly around each and every obstacle as though he didn't have to even think about how to throw himself and his cargo around to get by. He didn't say anything, though, so Komaeda went on.
“I probably seem relatively calm, but I'm actually panicking pretty badly. It would help if someone engaged me in casual conversation.”
Kamukura didn't look down at him, but his eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. “I understand. Why are you... so interested? The last person who asked me that was much younger than you.”
Komaeda hadn't thought that that would actually work. Kamukura’s attempt at casual conversation was very charming, Komaeda decided, his voice stilted and soft, much unlike the louder, more purposeful voice he adopted for his greeting.
“I know, my interest is quite childish, isn't it? But I've always been a fan, so—”
Pain flashed through Komaeda's leg. Things seemed to move very suddenly around him, then his vision went dark. For a moment, Komaeda thought he'd been dropped onto the ground, but he didn't feel any pain. He blinked dumbly. His eyes weren't closed, he realized. The world was just dark.
“Are you injured?” Kamukura asked, his voice so close that Komaeda could feel it against his face.
“No, I don't think so.”
Komaeda moved around a bit experimentally. His legs were dangling down and could be moved easily. His fingers could move freely, his arms not so much. Based on the dull ache under his arms, Kamukura was holding him up under his armpits.
“What happened?”
“An aftershock. I'm setting you down.”
Komaeda held his breath, willing himself not to yelp as he was moved around, something grabbing his legs and lifting them up before placing him down on the ground. He felt around. Stairs below him, a wall right behind him. Kamukura must have flattened the two of them against the wall as soon as the building started moving, before Komaeda had even realized anything was happening. Even for a Hero, that was impressive.
“Should I stop talking?” Komaeda asked worriedly. “I can stop breathing, too.”
“What? No. Look. If light can get in, so can air. That shouldn't be necessary.”
Slight footsteps echoed around the stairwell. Once Komaeda's eyes adjusted to the scant bit of light slipping through from above, he could see the vague figure of Kamukura walking up and down the stairs—did he possess extraordinary eyesight, maybe?
“We're stuck. Don't worry. Help will be by soon,” Kamukura announced once he stopped moving.
“Yes, I thought as much,” Komaeda said. “How bad is it?”
Kamukura hesitated. “We'll probably survive. If necessary, I can clear a path.”
He probably wouldn't explain further, but Komaeda got the gist of it. If he forced a way through, it would damage the building further and risk killing anyone inside. For now, they'd have to wait it out and hope that people outside could figure out how to safely clear the area. And if they were waiting...
“Hmm...” Komaeda decided to take a different tactic in his interrogation. “Well, I'm not scared at all. I have the most extraordinary Hero right here with me!”
“That's true.”
Komaeda waited, but Kamukura didn't say anything else. “Casual conversation, remember? I'm panicking.”
“You just said you weren't scared.”
“Hm? I was just putting on a brave face so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of you. I'm pathetic, aren't I?”
Kamukura went quiet again for several seconds.
“Your heart rate is only slightly elevated.”
“It's normally slower than most people’s. Believe me, I'm panicking.”
“Understood. What do you wish to talk about?” Kamukura asked, sounding only slightly annoyed. Either he was particularly gullible or he was just too professional to call Komaeda out.
“You! So, tell me, Izuru, how is it that you have super strength and super speed? And super hearing, it seems, if you heard my heart beat from all the way over there. I was under the impression that any Hero could only have one specialty, otherwise there isn't anything ‘special’ about it.”
“That is true of all but myself. I contain all possible Heroic powers.”
A thrill ran through Komaeda. He was right.
“How is that possible? Nobody has ever been born with... Ah, there was that strange case in the sixties, but I thought that turned out to be a hoax.”
“I am no hoax. I have had these powers for as long as I can remember.”
“Is that even possible...?”
“Yes.”
“How have I never heard of this?” Komaeda exclaimed. He wasn't exactly a genius researcher, but in all his time being a fan, he'd never heard of any such Hero. If he hadn't seen Kamukura’s powers himself, he would have assumed the man was lying.
“It is a secret.”
Komaeda's thoughts stopped short. “Huh...?”
“Nobody is to know the extent of my powers. Tell no one.”
“Eh...? But...” Komaeda giggled nervously. “You just told me.”
“It was unavoidable. You were panicking.”
Komaeda choked out a cough. Kamukura had actually fallen for that...? He hadn't even bothered to lie, had he...? He did, certainly, seem to have impossible powers (although Komaeda supposed he couldn’t verify whether he had all possible powers or just some), and it only made sense that they were a purposefully-kept secret if there was no word of them online.
Maybe Komaeda was just starstruck, but he was sure that Kamukura was being completely honest.
“Your pulse has elevated further. This tactic is not working,” Kamukura said flatly. He began walking up and down the steps, apparently impatient.
“No, no, it's definitely helping!” Komaeda said hastily. Hopefully, Kamukura couldn't see how widely he was smiling in the dark as he considered just how much he could get out of Kamukura like this. “I'm not panicking, I'm just surprised. Please, keep talking. Tell me more about yourself.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“Anything! Um... Do you have any hobbies?”
“Hobbies? I don't believe so.”
“Really? Nothing? It's okay if it's something embarrassing! I spend a lot of my free time researching Heroes, so I'm in no place to judge.”
Kamukura paused on the lowest step. “A hobby is an action?”
“Huh?! Well, yes! It's... something you do for fun. That's not the most elegant definition, but... Yes, what do you do for fun?”
“I don’t have fun.”
The words were completely devoid of emotion, no regret or even a trace of humor indicating that Kamukura was making a joke (although Komaeda was becoming increasingly sure that Kamukura was incapable of making jokes).
“Um, what do you do when you’re not on the clock?”
“What?”
“When you’re not out rescuing people?” Komaeda quickly corrected himself for the sake of his surprisingly difficult conversation partner.
Kamukura continued his pacing. “When I’m done patrolling, I train, then I take a shower, then I eat, and I sleep. When I wake up, I eat and start patrolling.”
He couldn’t be serious. “And what do you do on your days off? Uh, when you don’t go patrolling?”
“I patrol every day.”
“Do you enjoy patrolling? Or training?”
“No. Stop talking. There’s people outside.”
Komaeda obediently fell silent. If he listened closely, he could hear some vague noises, just barely recognizable as voices. His mere human hearing wasn’t nearly enough to make out what they were saying, but Kamukura could probably hear them just fine. He was incredible.
It couldn’t really be possible, could it? Kamukura had to be exaggerating. Spending absolutely all of his time working or training...? That was so miserable, it had to be fake. It had to be.
But, once again, Komaeda felt certain that he was telling the truth.
“They’re starting to clear the rubble,” Kamukura announced. “It’s possible the building will begin crumbling once more. I am going to pick you up again.”
Before Komaeda could agree, he found himself scooped up, then once again pinned with his back against the wall, Kamukura pressing in tightly against him. If there had been any more light in the room, Komaeda was sure he would have blushed at how close Kamukura’s face was to his. That wasn’t important right now, he reminded himself. His time with Kamukura was coming to an end soon.
“Is there anything you like?” Komaeda said hastily. “Do you have any friends? A favorite food, maybe?”
“A favorite food?” Kamukura repeated.
“Yeah, food. Oh, uh, the stuff you eat.”
“I know what food is.” A trace of annoyance slipped into Kamukura’s voice. “I don’t have a favorite. It’s all the same. I dislike it.”
Komaeda’s brain had to absolutely race over every new thing Kamukura said.
“Is it ‘all the same’? Or is it all the same to you?”
“What?”
“Izuru, do you eat the same type of food every single day?”
Kamukura went quiet. A faint drilling sound echoed through the silence. They were running out of time.
“Izuru?”
“I was unaware there was more than one type.”
Komaeda swallowed. This man didn’t understand the concept of a hobby, seemed to have never held a regular conversation with another human being before, spent all of his time working or preparing for work, and had only ever eaten one type of food before. One which he apparently disliked. All he’d ever done was save lives without living one of his own.
...But Komaeda was lucky.
“Wait, hold on.”
It was difficult to move his arms much, but Komaeda managed to reach into his jacket pocket. He pulled out something covered in a plastic wrapper, which he had to struggle to yank off in the dark.
“This probably sounds strange, but could you open your mouth?”
Kamukura didn’t say anything. Komaeda had to stretch his free hand out slightly to feel for Kamukura’s face. Suddenly feeling as though he was doing something criminal, Komaeda’s hand crept from what must be Kamukura’s ear to his cheek, then further to the bridge of his nose, then down towards his mouth. Komaeda’s finger fell inwards slightly and touched something damp. He flushed.
“Sorry!”
Kamukura remained silent, so Komaeda used that hand to guide the lollipop he was holding into Kamukura’s open mouth.
“Here. You can close your mouth again. Uh, don’t bite down on it. You’ll hurt your teeth.”
For several seconds, neither of them said anything. Komaeda’s face burned hotter. He opened his mouth again to keep rambling, desperate to break the silence.
“It’s a lollipop. Uh, orange, I think. The receptionist offered it to me and she was so polite I couldn’t say no, but I don’t really like candy, so I stuck it in my pocket. That was kind of stupid of me, huh?”
Still nothing from Kamukura, but a moment later, the drilling sound intensified, growing louder until it was almost unbearable, then suddenly stopped as light flooded into the stairwell, illuminating Kamukura’s face just two inches away from Komaeda, the lollipop stick poking out from his perfect lips, eyes glaring into Komaeda’s. Before Komaeda could spit out an apology (or anything at all), Kamukura shifted his body around again to hold Komaeda into a bridal carry, then began running down the now cleared steps, ignoring the various other Heroes rushing up the stairs or moving rubble. In less than a minute, Kamukura managed to bring him outside to safety, where he was deposited into one of the many foldable chairs to be eventually examined by one of the half dozen EMTs scurrying about the place.
As soon as Komaeda had laid eyes on Kamukura that day, he’d assumed that once he was safe, Kamukura would run off again without a word, just like the first two times Kamukura had rescued him.
Instead. Miracle of all miracles. Kamukura lingered there for a moment, staring down at Komaeda. Then he pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, stared down at it, then back at Komaeda again. If Komaeda had to read his face, Komaeda would say it was intense, even angry, but Kamukura...
“Thank you,” Kamukura said, “for this. I...” His voice grew soft. “I like this. Thank you.”
Komaeda’s breath caught in his throat. Pinned down by Kamukura’s eyes, Komaeda had to hold himself briefly to regain his composure enough to even stutter out “N-No problem!”
“Thank you,” Kamukura repeated before putting the lollipop back in his mouth and running back into the building once more.
Several of the Heroes were talking to each other as they came in and out of the building, Komaeda noticed, but none of them spoke to Kamukura, nor did he speak to them. Komaeda decided to start carrying candy around.
The day after Kamukura tried a lollipop (his new favorite food) for the first time in his life, he got called in for a hostage situation, which was particularly annoying. An armed bank robbery. Ten hostages, and any one of them could be assisting the robber. This really wasn’t what he’d been trained for, but it was too delicate a situation to leave to the police, so Kamukura found himself being glared at by two dozen unqualified officers as he walked into the bank under the guise of a mere delivery boy.
The first thing he saw was the barrel of a gun trained directly on his head, so he pretended to struggle with fear, an emotion he saw often but never felt. When the robber looked away from him for half a second to gesture to an open counter for the boxes, Kamukura took his chance to look at the hostages. He counted up all ten and immediately noticed one keeping his hand in her pocket. There was probably a gun in there. That woman locked eyes with him. He’d been caught.
Directly next to the woman was Komaeda, grinning widely at the sight of Kamukura. She moved to pull her gun out and hold it to his head.
In the split second that it took Kamukura to disarm the robber in front of him and shoot the woman in the arm, he wondered if Komaeda was working with them, and, if he wasn’t, whether he might have another lollipop with him.
The woman stumbled back in pain, knocking into Komaeda. He wobbled around on his crutches, then fell, shrieking as he landed on the floor.
Cops flooded into the bank, swarming the man and the woman robber. Irritating. He hadn’t given them the signal. It was probably fine, though. The last potential loose end was laying on the floor, grabbing at his cast.
Kamukura crouched down by Komaeda and quickly began searching him, running his hands along Komaeda’s uninjured leg (the cast looked exactly as it did yesterday, no space to hide anything) and chest and inside his pockets.
“Izuru...? You're, um...” Komaeda looked at him strangely. “Oh, you’re looking for weapons. I don’t have any of those, but I do have...” He pulled something small from his pocket, then removed the shiny wrapping and put it in Kamukura’s hand. “Here. Eat this.”
Kamukura put it in his mouth immediately.
It was softer than the lollipop and quickly started to melt into a thick liquid, much faster than the lollipop had dissolved, and it tasted different, with a similar sticky kind of taste. It tasted better than the lollipop, Kamukura decided, but it didn’t last as long.
“Do you like it? It’s chocolate.”
Rather than answering verbally, Kamukura nodded so he could keep the chocolate in his mouth for a moment longer, then swallowed. “Thank you. Yes. Thank you.”
A flash of annoyance interrupted his enjoyment of the chocolate. Several times a day, he would have to deal with someone awkwardly trying to thank him for saving their life or the life of a loved one, and they would be so overwhelmed with gratitude that they’d stutter and stumble over their words. It was irritating to listen to. Now he knew how they felt.
Komaeda laughed. “No, I should be thanking you. For... for saving me all those times, and now, too!”
Instead of justifying that with an answer, Kamukura stood back up and examined the situation. The robber he’d shot had already been brought out to an ambulance, and everyone else was uninjured, so he quickly helped Komaeda back up to his feet and left.
Over the next two weeks, Kamukura tried gummy worms, caramel, saltwater taffy, and on one particularly exciting day, an entire chocolate bar. He learnt the word “sweet” and discovered how enjoyable it was to have something to look forward to. He also discovered a new type of annoyance, a deeper one he couldn’t quite put into words, which he finally decided to confront one day by doing something quite unusual: once he had returned to base, he spoke to the director.
It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to her. That had happened several months ago, when she explained to him his purpose. After that, whenever one of his rescues involved someone committing a crime, she would have someone wait at the front door of the base to direct him up to her office so he could report what he had seen. This would be the first time he went to her office without being directed.
He knocked on the door, then walked in. “Hello.”
“Kamukura?” Her eyes widened in slight surprise, Kamukura noted with satisfaction. “I didn’t call for you.”
“I know. I’m here to report a suspicious individual.”
“Hold on. I’ll call you back,” she said into her phone, then put it down. She directed her gaze back at Kamukura with her usual cold sternness. “You believe someone is going to commit a crime?”
“I’ve encountered a man at the site of three different strange incidents in the past two weeks. The unexplained fire today at the shopping plaza. The arson case at the Hotel Leilah. The Sunshine Inn collapsing.”
“The collapse was caused by the earthquake, wasn’t it?”
“The earthquake triggered the collapse, but the building should have been able to withstand a quake of that magnitude. It’s suspicious.” Kamukura had pondered whether he should include the other instances in which he ran into Komaeda, but he’d concluded that there was nothing suspicious about them, so he decided against it.
“Right.” The director nodded slowly. “You believe this man is behind those incidents?”
Kamukura paused. “It’s possible, but I believe instead that someone may be targeting him.”
“Do you have any evidence of this?”
Kamukura shook his head. The taste of mint taffy still lingered on his tongue.
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He gave me the name Nagito Komaeda. Five foot nine. A hundred fifty one pounds. White hair. Gray eyes. Young. Asthmatic. His left leg is currently broken.”
“Right.” The director began typing into her computer, then turned the screen to show him. “Is that him?”
Kamukura glanced at the picture, then nodded.
“The name is real. No criminal history, although his name is connected to a few strange cases. I’ll contact the police so they can investigate him. Is there anything else?”
“He told me he was staying at Beltran Hotel. They should check there first.” Kamukura hesitated. “I’d like to tail him.”
“The police won’t agree without anything more concrete. Besides, you have a job to do. It could take days or weeks until he acts again.”
Kamukura nodded.
“Thank you for your report. You’re dismissed.”
Komaeda began searching for a permanent residence, finding himself annoyed by how many times he’d had to switch hotels already. Money wasn’t really an issue for him, so he was free to hunt down the sturdiest, most disaster-proof property in the city. Once he’d found a suitable penthouse, he turned to filling it up. He’d lost nearly everything he brought with him, so it was quite an overwhelming task, made all the harder by his still-healing leg.
And, as he spent his days replacing his possessions and avoiding catastrophes as best he could, he noticed a few strange things. The first strange thing was the presence of a few people wherever he went, always conspicuously avoiding eye contact with him. The second strange thing was that Kamukura started showing up even faster whenever Komaeda was in trouble, which was a very good thing, because he was sure he wouldn’t have survived when his taxi driver, driving fifty miles per hour on a busy city road, suffered a heart attack at the wheel if not for Kamukura throwing himself into the passenger seat and steering the car to safety. That was particularly impressive. Komaeda had tried to invite him out for ice cream to thank him, but Kamukura had disappeared even faster than he usually did.
Once Komaeda was sure that Kamukura was following him as well, he set aside his current objective in favor of visiting more interesting places: an art museum, the zoo, a movie theater. He tried to find Kamukura to ask him what he thought of each place, but try as he might, he couldn’t catch hide nor hair of Kamukura until a young boy fell into the water at the alligator exhibit and had to be pulled out. The crowd that formed around Kamukura kept him in one place long enough for Komaeda to reach him and give him a candy bar, although Kamukura just muttered a thanks to him before vanishing again.
Those two strange things in mind, it really wasn’t that much of a surprise when he opened his door one day to find Kamukura and a severe-looking woman in a business suit giving him equally intense glares.
“Oh, if it isn’t Izuru! Hello! And you are...?” He giggled nervously. As far as he knew, he hadn’t committed any crimes, but innocent people didn’t usually find themselves tailed by two different parties for weeks.
“Sullivan. I am the director of the city’s Hero Department. Nagito Komaeda, I’d like to speak to you.”
“Ah... Am I in any trouble?” Rather than looking at Sullivan, he looked at Kamukura, trying to decipher his face.
“You aren’t under arrest. You’re free to decline, but I’d like to talk to you at headquarters.”
Kamukura’s face remained unreadable, but he gave a slight nod, so Komaeda nodded to her. “Of course! I’d be quite interested to see that. I’ve always been a fan of Heroes.”
“Follow me.” Sullivan turned and began walking towards the elevator, so Komaeda took that chance to slip a mint candy into Kamukura’s hand. Kamukura nodded and ate it, then gestured for Komaeda to follow her.
This was a new side to Kamukura. He was even more taciturn than usual (probably because his boss was there), and he wasn’t wearing his usual getup, instead dressed like any random office worker in a button-up and dress pants. He hadn’t even bothered to tie his hair up into its usual tight bun. It was even longer than Komaeda would have guessed, reaching all the way to his knees. Incredible. Komaeda let Kamukura walk in front of him so he could stare, unable to pull his eyes away even when Sullivan turned around in the elevator. He should've been embarrassed to be caught staring, but if she'd heard anything from the police officers following him around, her opinion of him probably couldn't fall any lower.
They rode the elevator down in silence, then Komaeda was led to the back seat of a flashy blue sports car. That had to be Sullivan’s, he figured before even watching her get in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t imagine Kamukura owning that.
Once he’d buckled up, they set off to headquarters. Komaeda wondered if Kamukura lived there. Most actual Heroes, he’d discerned from his research online, only visited their base at the beginning and end of their shift to pick up and drop off their gear, with the actual building being mostly dedicated to more boring matters: tracking the Heroes and keeping tabs on disasters as well as answering emergency calls. Kamukura, though, was anything but a regular Hero. With the strict lifestyle that he seemed to live, it was difficult for Komaeda to imagine that Kamukura lived in a typical apartment or house. Someone was feeding him, after all.
Komaeda had planned on taking this chance to learn what he could about Kamukura’s dismal life, but he couldn’t stop his excitement from mounting as the car parked. Several people rushed in and out of the large building ahead of them, some even wearing the classic Hero’s uniform. They were so incredible. People gifted by birth with almost impossible powers and then choosing to use them solely to serve mankind. He watched them go by, wondering about each one of them.
The town he’d grown up in was much smaller than this city, and accordingly it only had four Heroes, although they’d expanded slowly until they had seven as Komaeda’s luck had gotten worse. Komaeda had been on first-name terms with them all, although they hadn’t liked him much, understandably.
“Come.”
When Sullivan left the car, Komaeda took the opportunity to give Kamukura another mint.
“Thank you.”
Those were the first words he’d heard from Kamukura all day. “Hey, Izuru, what’s going on?”
Kamukura exited the car as well, then opened the door for Komaeda before finally answering in a soft voice, “Don’t worry.”
Komaeda pondered those words as he followed after the two. Usually, it would be much more worrying to be told that in place of an actual explanation, but from Kamukura, it felt different. Maybe it was because Kamukura had saved Komaeda so many times already, or maybe it was just that Kamukura didn’t seem to waste time on meaningless words. Either way, Komaeda decided that if Kamukura told him not to worry, then there was nothing to worry about.
Once they walked inside, Komaeda craned his neck as they walked inside, looking this way and that, nearly toppling over until Kamukura yanked him back upright. Try as he might, he couldn't see any convenient “Izuru Kamukura’s Room” sign. There were plenty of things that looked interesting—a set of lockers, a group of Heroes talking, a display bragging about the various achievements of the department—but before he could look at (or eavesdrop upon) any of them, Komaeda found himself dragged into a room labeled 1-A.
This room was dull, a plain looking conference room with a long table. Only six of the seats were already filled, then seven as Sullivan sat down. She gestured for Komaeda to sit down across from her, so he did so.
“May I stay?” Kamukura asked.
“You have a job to do.”
“It will not take long.”
Sullivan glanced up at Kamukura. “Fine. Be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.”
Kamukura sat down next to Sullivan. Strange. So he wasn't initially supposed to be a part of this meeting? He’d just been brought along to lure Komaeda here, then. It was kind of embarrassing that they'd known that that would work.
“I apologize for the sudden summons, but this is an unprecedented situation, and I thought it best to deal with this as soon as possible,” Sullivan said, apparently addressing the entire room, before turning her gaze to Komaeda. “Nagito Komaeda. We’ve discovered that, through evidently no fault of your own, disaster follows you wherever you go.”
Komaeda held back a nervous giggle when he realized he was supposed to speak. “Yes, I’ve always had rotten luck.”
“In the past month, you’ve been present at the site of more than a dozen different incidents that, collectively, caused millions of dollars in property damage, over a hundred injuries, and seven deaths. Did your ‘luck’ cause that?”
“It probably didn’t help,” Komaeda mumbled. Actually, he was pretty sure there would have been more incidents if not for Kamukura following him so closely recently.
Voices erupted from around the room.
“Are we really supposed to believe that ‘luck’ caused all that? No, are we supposed to believe that ‘luck’ exists at all?”
“There’s no other way to explain it. Three of our finest officers followed him for weeks.”
“It was the weirdest thing. On my life, no way he could have caused half the shit we saw. If he walked into a room, someone ten feet away would have a stroke.”
“So, is his luck actually causing that? Or is he just unlucky enough to be around for these incidents?”
“Since he’s arrived, the amount of weekly disaster related property damage has been anywhere from ten to forty percent more than the previous month’s average. He has to be causing it.”
“The city can’t handle much more of this. The tourism industry alone will take years to recover, not to mention the lives lost.”
“What are we supposed to do? Force him out of the city? We can’t legally discriminate against him just because he’s bad luck.”
“We can offer him a financial incentive to move. In the long run, we’ll be saving money. If you're right about his luck.”
The conversation then turned to the question of where that money would come from. It was pretty disappointing. This city was supposed to have the finest, most advanced Hero Department in the country, and they couldn’t come up with anything better than getting rid of him. From recess in first grade to group projects in college to even here, it was all the same thing. How lame. They didn't even seem to consider that he wouldn't accept a bribe to move.
“Excuse me.” Kamukura raised his voice slightly, and everyone fell silent immediately, looking at him in shock. They'd probably forgotten that he was there at all. “The purpose of our organization is to save lives, not to shuffle the loss of lives onto others. We should deal with this issue directly.”
“Sure. What should we do, then?” one of the officers who'd been following Komaeda asked.
“Exactly as I said. We deal with him ourselves to prevent any further damage.”
Komaeda began fiddling with the handles of his crutches. Was Kamukura suggesting they kill him? That wouldn't be entirely unexpected, but it would be pretty cold. They wouldn't even have to directly kill him, really. All they'd have to do is stop rescuing him and he'd be dead within days. He supposed he couldn't fault them for that.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Sullivan asked.
Kamukura glanced at her, then back at the rest of the table. “We station a Hero by him at all times to prevent incidents when possible, and mitigate damage when not. That's all.”
Everyone stared at him.
“Kamukura, this is a serious conversation. Please don't interrupt.”
“Why are you rejecting my proposal?” Kamukura tilted his head, the very picture of cluelessness. Voices raised, one after the other.
“You're suggesting we follow this man around—”
“—may not even agree to—”
“—the hours needed—”
Sullivan cleared her throat. “Kamukura, it would be a significant time investment with very little payoff. We would need someone watching him 24/7 and we don't even know how much a single Hero would be able to do against his luck.”
“That isn't an issue. I'll do it.”
Komaeda's mouth fell open.
“Rather than having others watch over him in shifts, I'll stay with him throughout the day. I am the only person strong enough, dedicated enough, talented enough to handle his luck,” Kamukura continued.
The others looked at each other awkwardly until Sullivan spoke again. “It's a decent temporary suggestion while we decide on a more permanent course of action. Thank you, Kamukura.”
“Temporary? I'll do it for as long as necessary. It seems the best way to put my talents to use.”
Sullivan's lips tightened. “Mr. Komaeda, would you be open to trying this out for a week?”
Komaeda blinked. Did he want to be around Kamukura for a week? Did he want to stop dealing with disasters every single day? Did that even need an answer?
“Yes, I would,” Komaeda said after a moment's pause, refraining from mentioning that Kamukura had been following him around recently anyways. Had they not known about that? Now would be a pretty relevant time to bring it up. Interesting. “If he isn't disgusted by me, Izuru can stay with me, of course! It’s the least I can do if he’ll be cleaning up after my messes, and I have more room than I know what to do with.”
Sullivan nodded. “Right. It would be best to keep him close by, and it’s cheaper than renting him an apartment nearby... Kamukura, are you sure about this?”
“Yes. It’s the only way to deal with his luck.”
“We will be searching for a permanent solution,” Sullivan reminded him. “For now, pack your necessities and go. Update me every day at four PM. Mr. Komaeda, do you need a ride home?”
“Huh? No, that's fine. We'll take the train.” Komaeda's head was swimming at the speed with which she moved things along. Kamukura was moving in with him? For a week, allegedly, but Kamukura seemed to want to stay longer. Forever? Was he just trying to protect Komaeda from his luck? From being forced to move? Was it personal? Was he just doing his job? Or was it something else? Was he using Komaeda as an excuse to escape his life? His heart began racing at that possibility, that his luck had somehow been useful to Kamukura.
Komaeda numbly followed Kamukura out of the meeting room, trying to search Kamukura’s face for answers that weren't there. Kamukura paused once they were out of sight. “Do you have any more candy?”
...Or maybe it was for that.