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The sea suddenly lay still, denying Kamukura the smallest hint of uncertainty their travel could offer as a wave impacted and made the boat swift and tilt. He had been lost in thought, but as soon as he realised where he was and that his surroundings would remain the same for as long as the journey lasted, he was grounded again.
“Do you like boats?”
The question was vague, an attempt at small talk. Izuru determined he looked ahead of him, finding the Ultimate Lucky student lying against the wall opposite him.
“They’re useful.” The rocking of the sea, or lack thereof, wasn’t enjoyable anymore.
“Huh? That's your answer?” Nagito laughed under his breath when Izuru did nothing but nod once. “I suppose I should have expected that. You’re different from the others, after all.”
“I know.” There wasn’t a reason to keep this exchange going.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Nagito countered, though his tone was filled with fascination.
“I’m aware.”
The white-haired boy laughed again. “You really don’t make conversations easy, do you?”
“I don’t see the point in making them difficult either.”
Despite his words, he did not attempt to propose a new topic to address. Therefore, Nagito looked toward the window, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm against his knee as he thought of something to say, clearly captivated by the other. “My luck brought me here.”
Izuru watched the movement of Nagito’s hands. “I know what your luck is.”
“You do?” Pale eyebrows rose slightly. “Wow, I’m so honoured! To think somebody would waste their precious time researching scum like me… Now, I’m really curious about you. I'm Nagito Komaeda. What’s your name?”
“Izuru Kamukura.”
The reaction was immediate. Nagito leaned forward, pressing her bandaged left hand on the wall for support as he stared at the suddenly fascinating presence who was sharing a room with him. How lucky he had been!
“The Ultimate Hope?” He gasped.
“Admittedly.”
Nagito let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as he leaned further towards him, kneeling down but not daring to approach him. Nagito leaned forward slightly, drawn in by the gravity of that impossible existence. “Is it really you? For you to be forced to share this enclosure with a lowly, ultimately worthless being like myself… How troublesome. Tell me, why did they take you as well? Was everything else just too dull for you to keep indulging in it?”
Izuru didn’t move either, letting his silhouette remain mostly hidden in the shadows, while the little light that filtered through the window fell mostly on Nagito.
“I simply know what to expect from the world. Whether I’m here or there, it makes no difference.”
“Everything?” Nagito’s voice cracked. “And that is what bothers you…?”
“Almost everything,” Kamukura stressed. “Should it?”
Nagito flinched at the question, a light tone of pink covering his cheeks as he considered the reality of talent incarnate asking him about his opinion. Never mind whether he cared or not, he had asked regardless, consenting to the small talk Komaeda had been searching for. “If it were me, I’d find delight and calmness in knowing what would happen next, and what to expect. That way, my luck cycle would prove irrelevant, rendering me more useless than I already am. Oh! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s talk about the real thing. Perhaps that has left you desensitised to the world around you, like a decaying desert devoid of stimulus… Is that why you seemed to enjoy the boat’s movement earlier?” He took a moment to take in the expression on Izuru’s face. It wasn’t too significant, but it appeared to convey agreement, perhaps even mild recognition. “Did I get it right? Yay!” Nagito clapped, even if the sound was muffled due to the lack of strength in his numb, left limb. “Beautiful, perhaps, but nothing ever grows there.”
“Something like that,” Kamukura sentenced.
“And yet here you are, sitting on this rotting piece of metal in the middle of nowhere, heading to an unknown place simply because you were told to. Why cooperate?”
“Just like you, I want to see you through to the end.” He looked away with a neutral expression, towards the window, allowing some strands of hair to rest behind his left ear as he pushed them back. They had started to bother him. “Curiosity is a rare exception to boredom; this gives me a chance. Hope or despair… It’s all the same, but this isn’t over, so I’ll let it unfold.”
Something lurched beneath Nagito’s ribs as his breathing quickened. He hated that Izuru would probably notice. “Not at all! While they are two powerful forces, despair is nothing in the face of hope; just a stepping stone for it to flourish wonderfully. If Kamukura-sama stands around for longer, you will understand.”
“Just Kamukura.” He didn’t bother to look at him. “I’ve seen enough to know how it’ll end. Sooner, for some of us.”
“What do you mean? If you allow it, then I can surely show you what I’m talking about, but it won’t be different to what you’ve seen already, I’m sure. Next time, maybe…”
“We won’t be seeing each other again.” The admission was absolute.
“Huh? Why? Have you already realised how much of a nuisance I am? But… I guess I understand. You have to need to tolerate my presence, when everything you say or touch is bound to be coated in hope, after all…” A ragged breath escaped Nagito’s lungs, immediately catching the other’s attention, which dropped to his throat, watching the way it convulsed with a quick exhale. “Pardon my boldness, but could it be that you underestimate the effect you have on things, Kamukura-kun?”
Slowly, Izuru stood up and dusted off his trousers before he invaded Nagito’s space, who in turn found himself unable to look away from the presence he deemed divine.
“Your breathing is erratic. Why?” He noted quietly, but he only got a fractured wheeze in return.
“Then perhaps you should fix it,” Nagito whispered, tilting his head upwards shamefully. “If you understand every mechanism of this pathetic world... Surely you know how to steady insignificant trash like me.” He allowed himself to appreciate the figure before his eyes. With the light on his back, the Ultimate Hope looked ethereal. “Here…” He muttered, pointing at his own neck with his right index finger, dry lips trembling in anticipation.
Izuru reached for him without hesitation, settling his hand against Nagito’s throat, feeling cold skin under his fingers along with a racing pulse. There wasn’t much he could do for a sore throat, but he realised there was no inflammation. Maybe he was simply dehydrated, or aroused. He would look for any lumps or signs of affliction anyway, given how loud his senses screamed at him that Komaeda smelled like someone who should’ve long been dead. Interesting.
“Inhale.” His thumb pressed more firmly against his throat. Nagito tried, following his command. His chest tightened. “Again.”
Nagito tried to follow, inhaling further without exhaling first, as if that was possible, but his lungs immediately seized, making him gasp and cough involuntarily, drawing his arm upwards to cover his mouth.
“No.” Izuru knelt and placed his other hand against Nagito’s chest, making Nagito swallow as his heartbeat seemed to want to burst out of his body, trespass his chest and merge with Kamukura’s steady one. Maybe he could ask him to rip him open and see whether his flaws and lowness were rooted deep inside him. If he could take something from Izuru, just as he had done with Junko’s arm, maybe he could be purified. But he could not possibly touch someone so sacred, even when his neck was being held by him, making him swallow hard. “If you want me to continue, you need to listen to me.”
“Yes…” He choked out as the corners of his lips turned upward.
“Deep. Slow. Through the diaphragm, at the count of four.” Izuru leaned in, his breath ghosting across Nagito's lips as he monitored the shallow rise and fall of the other man’s torso. “Good. Hold it for two seconds, now leave in four… Again.”
Nagito drew another breath. The pressure of his hand gave him something to concentrate on, drowning out the thoughts racing through his head.
“You are more stable now.” He lowered his voice, preserving the calmness that had just been achieved.
“Because you’re telling me what to do.”
“You claim to need that, but it’s inefficient. You seem capable enough of regulating yourself.”
Nagito flinched, then gave in to the need to hold Kamukura’s wrist, circling his fingers around it and trembling as he noticed he had dared to touch his skin directly, as his sleeve had left it exposed. Kamukura’s lips parted slightly, a tingling feeling running around the place where he was being held with doubt and adoration alike. He didn’t feel the need to slap his hand away. If anything, he began to wonder how it would feel if those fingers traced a path along his inner wrist and forearm. But as soon as he realised the current situation wasn’t leaning that way, he blinked back into the reality around him.
“Sometimes, I can. Others… It’s more difficult.” Nagito confessed as he tightened his grip. “Please, teach me how. Make me. Give me something I can take with me if I’m never granted the blessing of seeing you again.” His fingers closed around Izuru’s wrist as he felt the room shake around him, but Kamukura didn’t budge, so it had to be his mind’s doing. Ah, that was it. Surely, that was why his body felt cold as a stabbing pain began to pulsate on his right temple. He shouldn’t have been asked for more. His luck had already been merciful enough to grant him this encounter; why would he risk an abhorrent outcome?
Kamukura frowned as he slid his fingers higher, dissolving his grip as his index and middle fingertips brushed the underside of Nagito’s jaw, making him tilt his head to take a proper look at his glassy, despair-bearing eyes. He knew they hadn’t been like that minutes before.
“If I give you what you ask for, you may become too predictable,” Izuru said. “This being our last encounter has nothing to do with my free will.”
“Then tell me what to do!”
“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
Nagito’s darkened eyes swirled in a distorted void. “Ngh… No. I don’t think I do.” His hand shook pitifully around Izuru’s own wrist, who had entirely forgotten about it after having found interest in the other’s gaze.
“Let’s try again.” Izuru removed his fingers from Nagito’s jaw and sat down, cross-legged, in front of him. “Close your eyes and focus on my voice. You may still hold on to me.”
Komaeda obeyed instantly, gasping as the darkness behind his eyelids made his other senses flare. He inhaled through his mouth.
“Breathe with me now, through your nose, as you did before,” Izuru commanded as he began to breathe slowly, expecting Nagito to follow. He did, concentrating on the rhythm until it was difficult to think about anything else. “Think of five things you could see before.”
Komaeda couldn’t tell whether he was finding peace or simply becoming too overwhelmed to resist, because why would he be compromised by despair when the brightest hope he’d ever witnessed was right by his side?
“Grey walls. Kamukura-kun’s dark hair. Your black uniform. Your red eyes. Your scar.”
Izuru hadn’t expected the last one. “Good.”
“Besides that… Did you know, Kamukura-kun? I’ve spent my whole life praying to hope. I never thought it would look like you, haha. Now, I don’t know if those things count. Everything that’s yours is hope to me.” His thumb moved once across Izuru’s wrist in the motion Izuru hadn’t expected, tickling him, before he settled again. Not enough. “I used to think suffering was the price of hope,” Nagito murmured. “But you offer me salvation… Maybe I just want someone else to tell me what it means.”
The steady rhythm Izuru imposed had stripped Nagito of his imminent crisis, leaving behind faith and hope.
“Can I be selfish, and ask for more?” He pleaded with devotion as if he was requesting an act of worship. “Don’t let me slip back into myself.”
“You seek to be sanctified through loss, hoping that something greater might inhabit you,” Izuru observed. “But it’s still you.”
“No,” Nagito whispered. “Please. I don’t want to be worthless scum anymore, and you… You can surely make something grander out of me. Anything.”
Kamukura observed him quietly. “Open your eyes.” Grey irises were visible again right before his pupils expanded widely, focusing entirely on the figure right in front of them. “Good. Can you name four things you can feel? Touch?”
Komaeda became acutely aware of the hold he still had around Izuru’s wrist. “You.” He answer was immediate, but he seemed to be stuck there.
“Besides that?” A monotonous voice prompted.
“...My coccyx?” He had been sitting uncomfortably for a while, after all. “The back of my shoes against my heels.”
“What else?”
“Your breath on me.”
“I’m not speaking loud enough for that.”
“Huh? But I truly feel it, Kamukura-kun. Every one of my senses longs for you, even if I know fully well I’m undeserving.” He pressed his lips shut, finally removing his fingers from Izuru’s wrist, acknowledging how unworthy he was. “Excuse my words… I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why?” Izuru sounded genuinely intrigued and frustrated by the lack of his touch. “You appear to keep asking what you must do to earn my attention. I haven’t said you need to earn it.” He took a moment to go back through Nagito’s words. “If you insist on worshipping me, stop asking me to justify it.”
Nagito’s eyes were wet, gleaming with fervour. “Yes... yes, Lor-”
“Kamukura.” He interrupted.
“Of course! Yes, Kamukura-kun. Let my lungs only move when you permit, and my heart only beat when you dictate. Whatever you need, take it. Take everything: my luck, my will, my very breath… I would choose this over any other reality.”
“Why should I choose?”
“Because I don’t trust myself to decide, and Kamukura-kun would find it gruesome if unsolicited, no matter what it was.”
“And you think I should?” Izuru studied him for a moment.
“I think you can.”
“Then, don’t ask me again what you should do or become. Be yourself, and try to learn how to exist without thinking of your own presence as a burden. I don’t see you as one,” he confessed. “So you don't have to turn it into something greater than it is. When you feel overwhelmed, do as I’ve told you. Then, name three things you can hear, even if you want silence.”
“Your voice.” His intervention was abrupt. “Your clothes brushing against your skin… And your hair as it drags across the floor.”
A tear slipped down Nagito’s cheek, and despite feeling it, he didn’t move to wipe it away. Instead, he simply lowered his head, his right hand hesitating as it hovered near Izuru’s left fist, waiting until he retrieved it to his own lap.
“You're waiting for permission,” Izuru observed. Slowly, Izuru extended his palm flat against Komaeda’s, leaving the last movement up to him. “Touch me then,” he clarified with honesty that translated into a blessing in Nagito’s mind. “Use your touch to remember me.” Kamukura didn’t care that they had already gone through that sense, but still, he emphasised what he meant as he felt Nagito’s palm meet his, locking his fingers around it in turn as he guided him slightly toward him. “Look, listen, and touch. Smell, and taste.”
As Nagito’s thumb brushed the back of Izuru’s hand, he swore the figure with long, dark hair and equally as dark clothes was radiating overwhelming light that had nothing to do with any external source. Hesitantly, he leaned in, stopping at the hem of Izuru's jacket, near his neck, to inhale the musk and lavender.
“I want to understand you,” Nagito whispered close by. “Every part of you.” He leaned back to look at him. “Once I have memorised my god completely, once I have become the perfect mirror for your will, will I be able to see you again?”
“That’s beyond me to decide. I’m… Uncertain of whether that will be possible.” At least, it wasn’t a complete dismissal. Tentatively, he adjusted his grip to caress Nagito’s wrist, just as he had done before. His left fingers moved up towards his elbow, then back down. Rinse and repeat, under both their gazes. “When we reach Jabberwock Island,” he chose to say, “you’ll forget this ever happened. You will look and see somebody else.”
“But why?” He gasped as goosebumps ran across his arm. “Why would I ever forget you?”
“Shall we proceed to the next verse?” Izuru offered.
Nagito choked on his breath. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to forget you, and even if I did, I’m sure I could feel your dazzling hope no matter where it lay. I… I’d rather have this boat go down with us both.” Nagito let out a twisted laugh filled with certainty. The revelation that there was nothing he could do wounded him, as if his devotion was as worthless as his own presence was. He swallowed his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to focus on what Kamukura had been telling him during the last half an hour. Then, he searched his face for some sign of approval. “If I'm going to forget you, then let me be something to you, even if I won’t remember it. If you cannot be imprinted in me… Can I selfishly request it is the other way round?”
Worship in exchange for inevitable loss.
Although it was unspoken, Izuru shifted his weight, sitting up to kneel and move closer to Komaeda, positioning himself between his legs, which he had unconsciously spread to leave enough room for Izuru. Komaeda would have sworn he was about to let go of his hand when he felt his grip dissolve, but he soon was proved wrong when Kamukura interlocked their fingers together as he rested his right hand on Nagito’s shoulder. He took a moment to allow his fingers to travel to his neck, pressing his thumb lightly against his carotid artery, feeling the frantic, beautiful rhythm of a heart that had finally found its purpose even if his brain insisted he was unworthy.
“When you wake up, you won’t remember this," Izuru repeated. Nagito could see grief in his eyes. “You won’t remember what you asked for, or what I told you.”
Nagito swallowed as Izuru leaned forward.
“And you won’t be able to ask me to give it back.”
Closing his eyes and tilting his head to the right, Izuru’s lips landed on Nagito’s in a tender motion. He felt Nagito’s body tense momentarily, so he moved back fractionally.
“Tomorrow, you’ll wake up on that island,” he cupped Nagito’s face in his right hand, noticing a tear beginning to form below his grey eyes. “You’ll see a stranger with olive eyes, and you won’t know who he is.”
“And that’s supposed to be mercy?” Nagito asked.
“It’s what will happen.” He leaned in to kiss him again, but Komaeda met him halfway, resting his left arm over Izuru’s shoulder and high on his back, in what could be classified as a hug. At least, that’s what Izuru interpreted it as.
Wet sounds began to form as their lips opened and closed against each other’s, and Kamukura was caught off-guard by the sudden moisture on his own cheeks, even if Nagito’s tears hadn’t fallen yet. “He’ll be kind to you, but he’s got a short temper, so practice being chill.”
“Even if I don’t remember you…” Nagito’s words trailed off into a weak breath. “Will my luck still try to find you?”
Izuru felt Nagito increase the pressure on their intertwined fingers as he kissed him again, sucking on Izuru’s upper lip and demanding access to taste him properly. Their tongues tentatively licked one another until Izuru sucked Nagito’s, gaining a whimper in return.
He had no answer. He saw no reason to assume that forgetting would change how absurd his luck cycle could be. Thus, he promised nothing. Instead, he removed his right hand from Komaeda’s head and dragged it down his body until it rested and wrapped around his waist, returning his hug in a tight embrace.