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The graduation ceremony at Hope's Peak Academy was supposed to be an event for the main course only—the Reserve Course got their diplomas handed out and were promptly sent home. But Hajime had turned out to be surprisingly sociable with the Ultimates, and as a result, he was currently at this grand event in the main building. Chiaki had originally invited him, and he'd refused for a long time, but after hearing from other Class 77-B students that they'd actually like to see him there, he'd caved.
Over his three years at the academy, he'd managed to befriend most of Class 77, though some still gave him trouble. Among the "problematic" ones was Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student. That guy was more vocal than anyone about his disdain for Hajime's status, and flat-out refused to have any contact with him.
But thinking about that now, when the graduation celebration was in full swing, was the last thing Hajime wanted.
The massive auditorium housed three entire classes of Ultimates at once, each of them eager to show off their talents as if they hadn't been doing exactly that for the past three years—or more. The culinary Ultimates had set up a buffet table and even labeled every dish and glass with their own names so everyone knew who made what. The athletes had retreated to the gym to demonstrate their skills, and the rest took turns on stage performing something related to their talents. Some, whose talents didn't easily fit into any of those categories, just entertained themselves however they could.
Hajime stood against the wall with a glass of some lightly alcoholic drink, on the bottom of which was written "Oishi Nōminomo | Ultimate Bartender," and alternated between glancing at Chiaki's console beside him and the stage, sipping the questionable liquid bit by bit. Why had the administration even allowed alcoholic cocktails at graduation?
Loud music blared from the speakers, apparently performed by the Ultimate Musicians. The bass on this latest masterpiece was, of course, the best Hajime had ever heard—but still, they'd been playing nonstop for an hour and a half now...
Suddenly someone nudged Hajime from the side, and when he turned his head, he saw Kazuichi.
"Hey, Hinata."
"Oh, Soda? What's up?"
"Listen, uh... Yukizome-sensei asked me to run to the storage room because some actor's performance needed props, but... could you go instead?"
"Why should I?"
Kazuichi looked around before leaning closer to Hajime. "There's gonna be a slow dance soon, and I don't wanna miss my chance to ask Miss Sonia to dance!"
Hajime sighed. You really had to be a hopelessly stupid lovesick fool to believe Sonia would ever even theoretically agree to a slow dance with him. Well, unfortunately, he *was* a stupid lovesick fool, and Hajime knew that better than anyone, because his Ultimate Mechanic used him as a "daydreaming-about-Miss-Sonia punching bag" way too often.
"...Fine." Hajime took one last swig from his glass, emptying it. "I'll do it."
"Thanks, bro, you're the best!"
Kazuichi practically glowed with happiness. He clasped his hands together and ran off toward Fuyuhiko.
Well, nothing bad could happen if he just went to the storage room and grabbed those props, right?
Already in the storage room, Hajime realized that something bad *could* indeed happen.
Nagito. Freaking. Komaeda. He was standing there, rummaging through boxes.
"What the hell are you doing here, Reserve-kun?"
To be honest, Hajime wasn't entirely sure whether Nagito meant the storage room or the graduation in general... apparently he was the only one who hadn't known that all his classmates had invited Hajime.
"...Kazuichi asked me to come to the storage room and help Yukizome-san."
"Ah, of course. I should have guessed the Ultimates called you so you could be their errand boy. Well, you should be proud they chose you. Maybe you should pay for the privilege too."
There it was. That hatred for his Reserve Course status in every single word. Hajime took a moment to clench his will into a fist and resist punching Nagito square in the face.
Instead, he walked over to the other shelves and started poking through boxes too. Only now did he realize he had no idea what exactly he was supposed to find.
"Hey, Komaeda, what are *you* doing here?"
"I don't have to answer to the Reserve Course, but fine. Yukizome-sensei asked me to come and find the props because Soda-kun looked disappointed when she told him. So we're looking for the same thing."
Nagito kept fiddling with a box for a while, then finished with it and stood up from the floor.
"But since you're handling that, I'll just go tell sensei you'll bring everything soon."
He walked closer to the door, but just as he reached for the handle, the shelf with boxes next to him began to shake, and eventually collapsed, dumping all the boxes onto Nagito.
"...I'm so unlucky..." came a voice from under the pile a half-second later. "...And it's all because I'm near the Reserve Course."
"I was actually going to help you, but if you're blaming me for this—"
"I don't need help from someone who leeches off others' hope. Shut up."
"You shut up. ...I'm helping you anyway."
Hajime got up from the floor and walked over to the pile of boxes by the door. He moved a couple aside and soon saw an annoyed face framed by wavy white hair.
"Hope's Peak Academy calls Reserve-kun. It's rude to stare at someone in trouble, but I guess they don't teach you that in the Reserve Course."
Hajime didn't reply, but removed a few more boxes and then extended his hand to Nagito so he could stand up. Instead, Nagito clicked his tongue and pushed himself up on his elbows. Though Hajime did notice they were trembling, he still got up and climbed out of the boxes. Nagito had a few scrapes, his uniform was pretty rumpled, and he was shaking.
Given that the boxes had stored the academy's belongings for ages, Hajime was afraid to even imagine what might have been in there that left Nagito so banged up.
Also, Hajime only just noticed that Nagito was in his school uniform. Just like Hajime himself, actually. But while the latter didn't have much money and the celebration wasn't even for him, Nagito—as rumors had it—had quite a bit of cash, and the graduation was for him too.
"No, seriously, stop staring at me. I'm leaving."
He reached for the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge.
"Ugh. Of course my bad luck didn't end with a broken shelf and being rescued by the Reserve Course."
"Aren't you the Ultimate Lucky Student?" Hajime decided to ignore the disparaging comments this time. "What bad luck could you possibly have?"
"Such foolish people with minimal hope can never understand that luck is cyclical." Nagito slid down to the floor, continuing to dig through boxes. He gave in so quickly. "A lot of people needed luck today, so it's only logical that I gave away enough of mine. Maybe so much that I could even die."
"Don't. Don't exaggerate. There's no way your bad luck could lead to death. That's too abstract a thing to speculate about, Komaeda."
"Just as expected from the Reserve Course. You'll never understand, so you make excuses by saying luck is abstract."
Hajime rolled his eyes, but decided to ignore it again. He picked up a box from the pile on the floor. Unsurprisingly, from such an impact, most of the contents were broken... Wait, was that a box full of irons?
Hajime glanced at Nagito, looking him over again.
"You got hit pretty hard. There's a box of irons, a couple bags of glass marbles... billiard balls??"
"Haha... that's to be expected from my luck. I told you I could die."
"Why the hell are you laughing at that?"
"Isn't it funny that someone like me could die because someone else got lucky right now?"
"Uh... no? What do you mean by 'someone like me'?"
"Oh, nothing, forget it. Not the side someone from the Reserve Course should see."
"Komaeda, what the hell."
"Huh?"
Nagito stopped and looked up, holding a cardboard statuette of a bear in his hand.
"Why do you treat me like this?"
"Why do you think others should treat you any differently?"
"Hey, I asked first."
"Ah, you're so annoying. It's a wonder they didn't recruit you to the academy with that talent."
Nagito lowered his head and kept rummaging through the box—until Hajime walked over and grabbed his wrist.
"What? How dare you—"
Maybe the alcohol wasn't actually that light, because Hajime would never be able to rationally explain why the hell he decided that kissing someone who hated him was a great idea. Mostly, it was because this obsessive thought had been haunting him for quite a while. He couldn't say why he'd thought so often about how soft Nagito's lips might be or whether he was a good kisser. It was... just one of those thoughts that had flickered through his mind once, and he'd tried to suppress it, but the more you suppress something, the more it grows.
Pulling back from lack of oxygen, Hajime realized that Nagito could have pushed him away if he'd wanted to—but for some reason, he hadn't. Instead, right now he was staring at Hajime, wrestling with mixed feelings, trying to catch his breath.
"I... um..."
Before he could finish the thought, Hajime was interrupted by Nagito deciding to fight back, attacking his lips with renewed force and grabbing his head.
Maybe Nagito had kept a little bit of luck for himself after all.