Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Returning back to the island was, thankfully, quite different than their initial departure.

The sky was still the same bloody red, staining the water around them an unnatural, sickly purple. No birds flew above them, no fish were swept up in the boat’s currents, and if Hajime squinted enough, he could still see wisps of smoke curling up from the mainland. But as unnerving as the sight remained, he almost didn’t mind it, because he knew now that it was temporary. 

Because they did it. They won. And God knows how much they needed a win.

The two months after the Jabberwock killing game were… Monotonous? Anxious? Hopeful? Hajime and the other four survivors had decided to stay and attempt to revive their supposedly-dead classmates, and he worked day-in and day-out with his newfound Izuru-knowledge to try and piece together how. They were told it was impossible, and he almost started to believe it.

But then, after a week, Peko had woken up first, seemingly of her own accord, calling frantically for Fuyuhiko. A couple days later, Gundham joined them. Then Imposter, then Ibuki, then Nekomaru, Mahiru, Hiyoko, Teruteru, and Mikan. Nagito had been a… special case. A month had passed before Hajime’s worry for the comatose boy had spurred him to act, and one psychodive later, he was finally back to the world of the living. It was (of course) lucky timing, since less than a day later, there was an urgent message from the Future Foundation, demanding the presence of the old 77th class to stop Ryota Mitarai and his second brainwashing video. Nagito had barely been retrofitted to his new prosthetic arm before they were all shoved unceremoniously into that terribly tense boat ride. 

And now that same Ryota Mitarai was sitting with them, talking shyly within a small group, barely adding to the quiet buzz of sleepy nighttime conversations in the boat’s mess hall.

Or, it was quiet.

“Music! Music music music!”

Ibuki’s excitement made the group collectively jump.

“Ugh, shut up! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” Hiyoko complained. Her hair was squashed in front, where her head had been resting drowsily on the table.

 “Um… did you find an instrument or something?” Mahiru asked hesitantly, her hand laying on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

Hajime really hoped not.

Ibuki shook her head violently, her erratic hair whipping her face. “Ibuki found…” she procured several disks from behind her back. “...CD’s!”

Kazuichi jumped up. “Yo, really? Awesome! What’s on ‘em?” He took one of the CD’s from her and turned it over in his hands.

Ibuki shrugged.

“What if it’s something super old?  Or like, really weird?” Akane asked.

“Or it could be… recordings…” Teruteru purred.

“W-well… I s-saw a radio in the supply closet. M-maybe we could u-use it…?” Mikan ventured, making the wise decision to ignore Teruteru’s previous statement.

As Kazuichi went to fetch it, Ibuki pushed tables to the corners of the room to clear a space in the center of the room, a one-woman bulldozer.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fuyuhiko grumbled, his head in one hand.

“If there’s music, then we dance,” Ibuki stated.

“Perhaps we should wait till the morning? It is very late, and we’ve had quite a day already,” Sonia suggested diplomatically when the crankier classmates groaned.

“If there’s music, then we dance.”

Kazuichi returned with the radio and cautiously slid one of the CD’s into the slot. The room fell silent as the group held their breath. Mechanical whirs sounded, and then…

Music. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t heard music all that long ago. After all, the Jabberwock stores and attractions had been strangely well-stocked, even the (unfortunately-named) Titty Tycoon. Still, something about it made it one of the most beautiful things Hajime had heard in a while. Maybe it was the lessened weight of stress and tension and despair that had been pressing down on their shoulders, relieved greatly just a day ago. But it brought an unconscious smile to his face, and when he glanced around the room, he could see he wasn’t the only one.

Kazuichi pressed the “skip” button on the radio a couple times. It circulated through different songs by different artists, although slightly outdated. It made Hajime think of his parents and long road trips. Nostalgic.

“I think it’s just a mixtape,” Kazuichi commented, before Ibuki slapped his hand away.

“Wait, Ibuki loves this song!”

“You’ve heard it before?”

“Nope!”

Ibuki pushed passed him and into the middle of the room, bouncing and wooping like a puppy. It wasn’t exactly a dancing-kind of song, but what she lacked in rhythm, she made up in spirit. A couple fond laughs sounded from her audience. This encouragement wasn’t enough for her, though, and she scanned the crowd for a victim. Suddenly she lurched forward and yanked a startled Ryota into the center with her.

“It’s no fun if Ibuki’s the only one!” She crowed, pulling Ryota’s arms uncomfortably up and down as she jumped.

“Um! I don’t-! I-!” Ryota stammered, flashing a panicked, completely-out-of-his-comfort-zone face at the group.

Imposter was the first to pity him, chuckling as he made his way to the makeshift dance floor with them, awkwardly moving his shoulders to the beat. Hajime hid a laugh behind his hand. He had gotten used to Imposter presenting himself as Byakuya Togami, and this new, goofier side of him didn’t really make sense in his mind. For now.

Teruteru sidled over next, albeit a bit too enthusiastically. Sonia giggled and joined them, pulling Gundham along, though he didn’t look entirely too unhappy with the arrangement.

“Come on, you know you want to,” Mahiru teased, tugging at Hiyoko’s kimono sleeve.

“Whatever, fine. Only because Mahiru wants to!” Hiyoko relented, acting as if the sight of others dancing didn’t make her feet itch to join. “ Someone has to have some talent around here.”

Nekomaru and Akane had just charged in as well (for the cardio), when someone slumped into the seat next to him.

“Hey, from man to man, you gotta tell me… I’m a good guy, right?” Kazuichi begged.

“Um…” Hajime raised his eyebrow at the unexpected question. “...sure. Why?”

Kazuichi waved vaguely at the steadily growing crowd. “Then why do I gotta go through this?”

“Dancing?”

“No! Having to see… that!” He gestured at Sonia. At the moment, she had both of Gundham’s arms in her hands, jiving them back and forth, hair falling into her face as talked gleefully to her aloof partner. He had to admit, they were quite the charming couple. Weird, but charming.

“Look, man,” Hajime shifted in his seat to face his dejected friend. “It’s been a month. They’re still together. They’re happy. And it’s really, really creepy if you keep waiting for that to change.” He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to give this speech.

Kazuichi gave a deep sigh. “I know, I know. I don’t have to be happy about it, though.”

Hajime gave him a half-hearted “there-there” pat on the shoulder. 

Somehow amidst the chaos, Ibuki spotted the attempt at comfort and zipped over.

“Are you sad?” She asked quietly.

Kazuichi nodded heavily.

“Nope! Sad police, here I come!” She barked, and jerked him to his feet. 

“Hey, stop, I don’t wanna…! Hajime!” Kazuichi screeched as he was dragged into the fray.

Hajime waved a cheerful goodbye.

It wasn’t until the song changed to a slower melody when he noticed a shadow loom over him. He had zoned out, messing with a stray thread on his pants, not looking up when he said, “Ibuki, I’m not really in the mood to-”

It wasn’t Ibuki.

“Oh.”

Instead, it was a familiar pale, lanky figure, drowning under green fabric and puffed white hair. A ripple of unease instinctively poked at his gut before he scolded the feeling. It wasn’t necessary anymore, was it?

“Hey, Nagito,” Hajime amended.

“Hajime,” Nagito greeted, his strangely sweet, blank smile on his face.

“Are you… okay?” Hajime asked awkwardly. 

“Of course,” he replied, before holding out his unmarred hand. “Do you want to dance with me?”

That was not what he was expecting.

“Oh!” Hajime coughed, attempting to hide his shock. “I don’t, uh… I don’t know how. So…” He fumbled for an excuse, not wanting to tell him “no”, but also not wanting to dance. It wasn’t like he was lying, either.

This response earned a slight tilt of the head, smile and hand unwavering. “Really? I would assume the Ultimate Ballroom Dancer would know how to sweep me off my feet.”

A cold chill trailed down his spine. “I don’t really like to pull out Izuru’s talents. Unless I have to, I mean.” Like a stupid, talented vending machine.

“Hmm.” Nagito’s eyebrows drew together slightly, but he didn’t move from his station. He dropped his arm to his side and lifted the other in its stead. “I can lead, if you want.”

Hajime fidgeted uncomfortably. Should he awkwardly reject, or should he awkwardly dance? Both sounded terrible.

Eventually, he relented and took Nagito’s hand. His metallic fingers were cold, looped through his.

“I guess one song’s fine.”

Nagito’s eyes lit up as he lightly tugged Hajime with him into the middle of the room. There was no longer one awkward semi-mosh pit in the center; instead, several pairs had broken off from the group, swaying like a scene from some corny prom movie. Sonia and Gundham, Mahiru and Hiyoko, Akane and Nekomaru. Even Fuyuhiko and Peko had joined, moving with a surprising amount of grace, considering the two’s past. It was… sweet.

Hajime snapped back to attention when he felt a hand gently touch his waist. His brain almost short-circuited with the absurdity.

“Your hand goes on my shoulder,” Nagito supplied.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Hajime grumbled, following the instruction.

Nagito moved lightly, guiding Hajime along as they swayed and spun along with the others. He obviously knew what he was doing, while his partner did his best to not stomp on his toes.

“So, did you just really want to dance, or…?” Hajime asked, the silence making him feel, yet again, awkward.

“I asked, didn’t I?” Nagito replied, nudging his foot into Hajime’s to push it back.

“Yeah, but… why me?” He blurted out. It was too weird.

“Why not?”

“It’s just… We haven’t really, you know. Talked.” 

Nagito frowned. “We’ve talked many times, Hajime. Though I’d understand if you’d try to forget any conversation you may have had with someone like me.”

“After the simulation, I mean.”

“We talked when you had woken me up from the program,” Nagito said, pulling Hajime slightly closer to stop him from accidentally kicking a table. “And you said hello to me at lunch.”

“ About the simulation.”

Nagito’s eyes quickly flitted to the ground before settling back on his face. He might have missed it, had they not been so close. But the grin returned soon after.

“Ah, but no one has!” He chirped, pivoting them to the left.

“What do you mean?” Hajime asked cautiously.

“Let’s see…” Nagito scanned the group, before finally finding a target. He turned them so that Hajime could see-

“Fuyuhiko avoids Mahiru.”

Hajime shook his head. “I mean, I guess, but that’s just-”

He turned them again.

“And Hiyoko avoids Mikan.”

“Okay, but she always-”

“Sonia avoids Nekomaru. Akane avoids Gundham. Mikan avoids Ibuki. Teruteru avoids Imposter.” They turned with each name.

“Teruteru also avoids me. As does Mikan. As does Kazuichi. As does…” Long fingers drummed against Hajime’s back in thought. “...well, everyone.”

His gaze finally settled back down on Hajime’s face, smiling brightly once again at the other’s widened eyes.

“Including you!” 

“I… what? No I don’t!” Hajime sputtered at the accusation. 

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? We haven’t talked,” Nagito said, his cold words contradicting his cheerful expression.

“I’ve been busy.” Hajime unconsciously pulled back, though his hand and back were still gripped by the other.

“Can you say honestly that you would seek me out willingly, if you did have the time?”

Hajime couldn’t respond.

Another nudge of the foot, another step to the right.

“I don’t blame you, you know. For not wanting to be alone with me,” Nagito commented, unphased. “After all, everyone’s prepared to come to your rescue.”

Hajime blinked. “Huh? What do you-”

He glanced around.

Everyone was staring. At them.

Concern. Confusion. Anger. Paralyzed fear. Fuyuhiko muttered something to Peko, who moved her hand to her sword, ready to strike if need be.

“This is fucked,” Hajime muttered, annoyance furrowing his brow, lowering his gaze, and clenching his hand on Nagito’s shoulder.

“Do you need to be rescued?” Nagito chirped, taking note of the other’s change of mood.

He jerked his head back up. “No! We’re out of the simulation, you’re not… a danger. Anymore, I mean. It’s not fair to treat you like that.”

This earned a quiet, unbothered chuckle.

Impulsively, Hajime lifted their clasped hands.

“Hajime?” Nagito regarded him curiously.

“Just… I’m trying to make a point.”

“By doing what, exactly?”

Hajime suddenly felt very stupid, a blush itching his face. “I dunno. Twirl. Or something.”

Nagito blinked. Looked at their hands. Looked at Hajime. Then burst into laughter. Not the maniacal cackle he had gotten used to, but a genuine, amused one. The sound made Hajime’s mouth quirk up subconsciously.

“You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” Nagito uttered between giggles.

“I told you I didn’t!” Hajime protested lightheartedly.

“Did you just want to make me dizzy?” Nagito grinned, then started spinning the both of them. “Does this work?”

Hajime snorted and gripped the other tighter to stop himself from being flung off from the momentum. It was embarrassing to admit, but Nagito could be quite charming when he wanted-

“It really is a waste, you know.”

The thought stopped cold.

“You were given a beautiful opportunity, one that anyone with some semblance of logic would take. Artificial talent, artificial hope. It’s quite… disgusting, but it’s better than nothing.” 

They were still spinning.

“You could do anything you wanted. Have anything you wanted. Be whoever you wanted. But here you are, stepping on my feet and trying to twirl the lead like the boring…”

Don’t say it.

“...talentless…”

Don’t.

“...Reserve Course student that you were.”

They kept spinning. Hajime’s stomach lurched.

“Back in the simulation, when I found out about everything, when I found out about you… ”

Spin.

“...It really broke my heart.”

Spin. 

“ You broke my heart.”

Faster.

“I really did love you, you know.”

Faster.

“And somehow, after it all, I have to admit, I still-”

“ STOP!”

And suddenly Nagito was off him, pushed away out of arm’s reach, his eyes wide and confused, the room still tilting as his head adjusted.

Immediately, Hajime was surrounded, Kazuichi gripping his wrist, Akane poised in a fighting stance next to him, Peko brandishing a sword between them.

A beat of tense silence passed before Nagito flashed that same happy expression.

“This was very fun, but I think I might have to call it a night,” he stretched and smiled, as if nothing had transpired. “Thank you for the music, Ibuki.” 

Ibuki nodded blankly as their classmate made his exit.

As soon as he was out of sight, Hajime’s personal space was flooded by his friends.

“Are you alright?”

“Did he threaten you?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What did he say?”

So they didn’t hear. That was probably for the best.

“I dunno. He was just being…” He stopped himself. He was being… what? 

He was just being Nagito.

Shame filled his head. Wasn’t he internally chastising the group for being close-minded, just a minute ago? For acting like Nagito was still a danger? By assuming that his actions in the real world would match his actions in a killing game? 

“It was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “I think I’m gonna head out too.”

He left after returning a couple hesitant “good night”’s and “be careful”’s. 

He didn’t sleep very well.

**********************************

After two days, they docked at Jabberwock Island. It seemed like the sixteen of them couldn’t wait to exit the boat, their legs jelly from the extended time at sea. Even though it was morning and he had woken up not too long ago, all Hajime wanted to do was go to his cottage, take a long shower, and take an even longer nap. He was already set on his path when he realized that no one was following.

“Um… what’s up?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s tradition for the team leader to give a speech before a big event! Go on!” Nekomaru boomed. Hajime winced.

“Oh. I’m kinda tired.” ( Very tired.) “Do you want to?”

Nekomaru clapped a heavy hand on the much smaller boy’s shoulder. “I may be the Ultimate Team Captain, but for once, this is a team I’m part of. For this, I leave my role…” Hajime was suddenly being shaken violently. “...TO YOU!”

“Didn’t we say that Byaku… I mean, Imposter, was the leader?” He asked, grimacing at the yell.

Imposter smiled and shook his head. “Not anymore. You’ve earned the title, Hajime.”

“But I’m not very good at speeches.”

“That’s not true,” a meek voice interrupted.

Their heads swiveled to look at Ryota, who was slightly curled in on himself next to Imposter and Mikan. “You… You really helped me back there. I don’t know if I could have done it alone.”

Hajime blinked at the unexpected praise. “Thanks, Ryota. That means a lot. I guess… sure.”

Tapping his fingers on his leg, he tried to gather the right words to say. Finally, he looked up and addressed his friends, his classmates.

“It’s not over. We’re not done.”

Evidently, these were not the right words to say.

“A-are we still in d-danger? Is s-someone after u-us?” Mikan squeaked

“Are we going into lockdown, or will we fight back?” Peko narrowed her eyes.

“How dare you utter such cowardly words! We will fight, and we will prevail!” Gundham declared.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant! I just…” Hajime sighed in frustration, and tried again. 

“Two days ago, we were finally needed. We came out of hiding, we fought, and we won. And after all that chaos, all that work… we can finally say that we helped. God knows it wasn’t just because of us, far from it, but… the world can finally start to heal.”

His words were met with grins, tinted with exhaustion but colored with pride and relief. Nekomaru opened his mouth to praise, but Hajime stopped him.

“But on this island, we’re… not completely okay, are we? We celebrated, we danced, we laughed, but we can’t forget what we had been through in the simulation. We can’t forget… what we did to each other. And not just in the game either. Even before that, we…” He paused when he felt his eyes start to burn with familiar tears. He pushed them down.

“Even before the game, we killed. We did terrible things. And maybe I don’t remember what I did as… as Izuru, but I can feel it.” He swallowed the lump weighing in his throat, and then lifted his eyes to the others. The same guilt he felt was plain to see on their faces, rimming eyes with red.

“But the thing is, we have a second chance. Somehow, even after all that, we were given a second chance to make it right with ourselves and the ones we’ve hurt. And we can start with us. It’s hard, but we just…” He inhaled. “...We just need to talk to each other.”

At this he met Nagito’s eyes. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked… pained? Shocked. Hurt. Something Hajime had said had clearly hit him hard. But at the last sentiment, the last request, he gave a subtle nod of understanding.

“We need to talk to each other and make it right. Or try to. Because right now, we’re all we’ve got. And maybe that’s hard to hear, but honestly, I’m happy with it. Because we’re family now.”

And he left it at that. There was silence, and Hajime started nervously changing his weight from foot to foot. He’d definitely said something wrong, didn’t he? He-

“Ew, that was so corny, I’m gonna barf !” Hiyoko said. Of course.

“I think it was lovely!” Sonia insisted.

“Kinda depressing at the end there,” Fuyuhiko muttered.

“Hey, like you could do any better!” Kazuichi bumped him on the shoulder. “Great job, bro!”

Hajime grinned. It wasn’t perfect, but… 

It was a start.

*******************

Later that night, Hajime found himself on the beach. As cliche as it seemed, it had quickly become his favorite spot to just… rest. It took him a while to push down the uneasiness of being alone. After all, they had spent so long watching their backs, walking on their toes, their fight or flight response ready in case of an attempted murder. But now, he felt safe in the solitude. He counted that as a success.

He regarded the view spread out before him. The sky was still red, the water was still purple, the birds were still gone, and far in the distance, buildings still burned. But it was temporary.

...Right?

Soft footsteps broke through his thoughts. He didn’t look up, but somehow he knew.

“Nagito.”

“Hajime.”

His visitor dropped down next to him, shoes and fingers poking into the sand. There was a moment of strangely comfortable silence before Nagito spoke.

“I saw Mikan and Hiyoko talking.”

Immediately Hajime rocked forward into a crouch. “Wait, what?! Where!? Shit, are they alone?! Why didn’t you-”

“They were just talking.”

He hesitantly leaned back again. “Not fighting? Or yelling? Just talking?”

Nagito smiled. It seemed surprisingly genuine. “Good job.”

“Is that sarcastic, or do you really mean that?”

“We’ll see,” he replied lightheartedly.

It fell quiet again, and then…

“You really don’t remember anything during the Tragedy, do you?” He asked, his voice taking an odd tone he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard the boy speak with before.

Hajime scratched the back of his neck. “Anything as Izuru? No. No memories, no nothing. Just... “ He paused. “...Feelings. Or whatever those were for him.”

“Feelings, huh?” Nagito forced a laugh. But before Hajime could dwell on it, he spoke again. “That’s not why I wanted to speak with you, though.”

Hajime raised his eyebrow.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said.”

Hajime nearly fell backward. Apologize? Had Nagito ever apologized appropriately before? Before, there had been several “I’m sorry for dirtying the air with my presence” and “I’m sorry for daring to speak to someone as great as you”, but never had there been anything like an “I’m sorry for trying to get everyone killed for a nonsensical reason”.

“What I said to you was cruel. Not just last night, but later in the simulation, too. I was confused and scared and so, so angry. And it wasn’t your fault that you were just a…” Nagito noticed Hajime’s narrowed eyes and gave an awkward cough. “...It wasn’t your fault. But I’m still trying to get used to it. All I’m asking for is… patience.” 

Nagito met his eyes sheepishly. He really was trying to change, wasn’t he? The thought seemed ludicrous, but maybe somewhere deep, deep in his mind, during his long sleep, he was developing. Reflecting. Growing.

Despite everything, Hajime nodded slowly. “I forgive you.”

Nagito beamed and opened his mouth, but Hajime held up a finger to halt him.

“But you have to be patient with us, too. It’s not fair to judge you for what you had done when you were under a lot of stress.” What an understatement. “It’ll take some time to stop being… intimidated. Old mindsets die hard. But we will try. I will try.”

“Thank you.” Nagito had put a foot of space between them when he sat down, but the intensity and sincerity in his eyes almost felt tangible.

“Hey, do you want a job?” Hajime blurted out.

The other boy looked taken aback by the very abrupt change of subject. “Excuse me?”

Smooth. Hajime cleared his throat. “I told you before. I’ve been so busy with everything, and even with Izuru’s abilities, it’s just too much. I mean, you’ve been awake for what, a week? And you’ve already noticed problems that I overlooked. Really, really important things. What kind of “leader” can’t even help his team feel safe when they’re not even in trouble?” Nekomaru really got him with the sports metaphors. 

“So you want me to be your secretary?” Nagito asked after a moment.

“What? No, more than a secretary,” Hajime furrowed his brows.

“Vice president?”

“I’m definitely not a president.”

“What about a-”

“Let’s just call it “assistant”, okay?” Hajime interrupted.

“Assistant…” Nagito tested out the word.

“And it’s not like you’ll have more work to do than everyone,” Hajime amended. “Everyone’s gonna have a job, cause there’s no way I’m doing everything by myself. But if you want this one to be yours… Please take it.”

There wasn’t any hesitation. “I’d love to, Hajime. Of course, someone else would be much better suited for the task, but-”

“One condition, though,” He said before Nagito could get too deep in his self-deprecating rant.

“Hmm?”

“We talk. Actually talk ,” Hajime said, looking Nagito straight in the eye. “About what happened in the simulation. No passive aggressive remarks, no vague references, no ‘stepping stone for hope’ bullshit.”

“Hmm.”

Hajime held out his hand, a reflection of Nagito’s previous invitation to dance. But it was different. Not angry. Not predatory. 

“Deal?”

After a brief moment of consideration, Nagito gripped his hand.

“Deal.”

The simple comradery in the gesture felt… right. Like they could finally move on. It wasn’t to forget about the past, but to accept it and push forward.

He sighed and glanced back up at the sky. The red, red sky.

“We’ve… interacted a lot, haven’t we? You’ve told me a lot of stuff, but… honestly, I still don’t understand you.” Hajime looked back down at the surprised boy. “But even so… I can’t just let it end like this.”

Nagito laughed. “I think there’s a lot of things about me that you’ll never understand.”

“I know. But I’ll accept that,” Hajime grinned.

He felt a finger twitch against his palm at the sentiment, and became very aware of the position they were in.

“Um.” Hajime coughed. “You can let go of my hand now.”

Nagito cocked his head. “What? Why?”

“This is a handshake. You just…” He moved their hands up and down. “...And let go.”

Nagito didn’t let go.

“Unless you’re saying you wanna be friends…?” Hajime asked, eyeing their intertwined fingers.

Nagito chuckled, and finally released him after a light squeeze.

“Friends. I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

The second morning after the 77th class arrived back at Jabberwock, Hajime was already back in his office. Or at least, what he considered his office. In reality, it was just one of the rooms in the old building near the cottages. Even though the idea of a day off to readjust to his normal island life was tempting, he figured the best thing to do would be to set an example and settle back into the routine of things. After all, communication with the Future Foundation seemed even more critical now than before, considering the controversy they had found themselves in. However, the difference between today and his old routine was-

“Good morning, Hajime.”

Nagito was standing in the doorway, donning a pale blue sweater. Soon after Hajime, Fuyuhiko, Akane, Sonia, and Kazuichi woke up from the program, new clothing had been shipped to them, seemingly as a thank you for their sacrifice. Hajime was very glad for that. He didn’t want to imagine the awkwardness of laundry day if all of them only had one set of clothes.

“Oh, hey! You can come in,” Hajime said. He was trying to rewire his brain to think of Nagito as… well, a normal guy. He hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult.

The other complied and placed a steaming mug in front of Hajime. He peered into it. It was dark brown, not black, just like he usually drank it.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” Nagito chirped.

“What? I didn’t think it was!” Hajime sputtered. Or at least he didn’t . Now he wasn’t quite so sure.

He took a sip. One sugar, also just like he usually drank it. Huh. He knew Nagito was observant, but this-

“I really did love you, you know.”

Nope. He wasn’t going to think about that today.

Thankfully, Nagito interrupted this uncomfortable thought process. Perched on the chair across from him, he pulled out a paper and scanned it before reading.

“Today, Imposter plans on giving Ryota a tour of the island. Mahiru has been taking pictures of everyone, since she plans on making a collage. Ibuki is down at the beach practicing guitar. Or, I believe she is. I didn’t want to get too close. Hiyoko had been at the beach before her, collecting crabs to put in Mikan’s room-”

“Wait, I thought Hiyoko and Mikan were better now?” Hajime interrupted.

“They’re better than they were. Before, Hiyoko put the crabs in Mikan’s bed,” Nagito corrected him, then went on. “Kazuichi is doing maintenance on the air conditioners, and he’s going to install a heating function in them before winter hits. I heard Peko call Fuyuhiko by his name, instead of ‘young master’. Isn’t that nice?” He gave a brief smile. “Nekomaru and Akane are training near the farm. I believe they were working on her push-up count. Last night, Gundham had gone into Sonia’s cottage and didn’t leave until they went to breakfast, so if there was any doubt on their relationship status, you can put that out of your mind. And Teruteru was…” He wrinkled his nose. “...lurking.”

“Ew.” Hajime matched his expression. “Wait, why are you telling me all this?”

Nagito looked confused. “Isn’t that why you hired me? To watch everyone?”

“Huh? No! I mean, keeping an eye on them wouldn’t hurt, but I don’t want you to spy. That would be… creepy. I wanted you to help me with like, smaller picture stuff.” Since being creepy was exactly what Nagito needed to stop being.

“Hmm.” Nagito didn’t look entirely convinced, but he walked over to look over Hajime’s shoulder. “What are you doing now?”

Hajime scooted over so he could get a better look at his computer screen. “I’m trying to figure out jobs for everyone. Some of them are pretty obvious. Mikan’s the nurse, Kazuichi’s the mechanic, Gundham takes care of the animals, Teruteru’s the cook. But the others…” Not so much.

There was a moment of silence as Nagito thought. “So far, you’ve assigned jobs according to talents. It’s a good idea. Why not continue the pattern?”

“Back when things were… normal, sure, there would be musicians, photographers, dancers, and all that,” Hajime said. “But we’re just trying to survive out here, you know? We don’t really need those.”

“Oh Hajime, you really do take things too literally,” Nagito chided. Hajime looked sharply at him, ready for the torrent of passive-aggressive comments. However... “Take Mahiru, for example. Her specialty is photography, of course, but surely she’s taken journalism and media classes. Perhaps she could research and keep track of current events?”

Hajime blinked. “That… that’s actually a really good idea.”

If Nagito noticed or minded the surprise at his competency, he didn’t show it. “Ibuki has marvelous hearing, so-”

“She can be our lookout,” Hajime continued excitedly. “And she can rotate with Peko, so we’d have someone guarding at all times.”

“Imposter is excellent at replicating talents, of course, so he could substitute for anyone who may be too sick to perform their duties one day.”

“Nekomaru can be the muscle for anyone who might need it for their job.”

“Fuyuhiko and Akane would make excellent police.”

“Yeah, and-” Hajime stopped and frowned. “Wait, police? You know it’s just us, right? Why would we need police?”

“Exactly. Because it’s us,” Nagito said, smiling down at Hajime, who quickly broke eye contact and scratched at his arm. He didn’t want to think about it, but…

“...We’ll call them police for two weeks. If we don’t need them, then we’ll assign them something else. Does that work?”

“Sure. We’ll do that,” Nagito agreed, but something about his tone was reminiscent of a parent humoring a child. Hajime shook the thought out of his head, and they continued.

Sonia was good at delegating, so she would keep track of inventory and any needs the others might have. Ryota and Hiyoko would take turns cleaning and assisting the others. Each person would have two days off during the week. And Hajime (or maybe more accurately, Izuru) would fill in the cracks.

After everything had been recorded, Hajime grinned at Nagito. “Great job, man! I knew you’d be good at this stuff.”

Nagito looked very taken aback by the gesture, and muttered “thank you”’s and “I don’t deserve your gratitude”’s while sporting a goofy smile.

Hajime held up his hand for a high-five. Nagito stared at it in confusion, then hesitantly grabbed it instead.

...They’d work on that.

********************

The idea came to him two days later, after Mahiru had presented her first report on the world beyond the island. Unsurprisingly, the Future Foundation was on very thin ice. Word about the last killing game had spread, and the perpetrator had yet to be named. But what were they supposed to say? That the Future Foundation’s own chairman orchestrated the whole thing? Trust in the foundation would crumble, and Hajime didn’t want to think about what would happen if the world went back to being unsupervised. So instead, he gathered the sixteen of them in the restaurant as soon as the work day started to reveal his plan.

“We’re going to be the scapegoat for the Future Foundation killing game.”

His announcement was met with confusion and outrage. 

“Why the fuck would we do that? We helped them, remember? How is that fair?” Fuyuhiko demanded.

“People are really angry, Hajime. I just told you that!” Mahiru chided. “Whoever takes the blame is going to be targeted. Immediately!”

“Exactly. If they find out that it was an inside job, people are going to riot against the foundation. They’ll tear it down, probably literally, and we’ll be back to square one,” Hajime said. “But if we take the blame, the foundation will be the martyrs, the heroes that survived it, the definition of ‘hope’. The public will hate us, but they don’t know we’re here. They can’t act on it. And the people who do know, will owe us.”

It took a bit of convincing, but eventually they were posed in the Titty Tycoon. The room was darkened, save for the spotlight behind them, creating an ominous, backlit effect. Hajime worried that it would look too corny, but after taking a look at the camera, Kazuichi assured him that it was “the most badass thing he’s ever seen”.

The speech had taken two shots. Initially, having everyone speak seemed like it would be most effective, but after several awkwardly monotone lines, a (worryingly accurate) cackle from Ibuki, and a straight up refusal to participate from Nagito, Hajime realized his dear friends couldn’t act. Including him, apparently. So on the second take, he spoke alone, begrudgingly pulling out his “Ultimate Thespian” persona. He needed to act like Izuru, right? Still, he found it… painful.

When he had finished speaking, no one spoke up. Surely it wasn’t fun to hear, being reminded of the things they had done and the way that they were. So after he had clicked off the camera, he took a hesitant look back at his classmates. Some met his gaze, others stared at the floor. Mahiru had taken Hiyoko’s hand. Sonia was harshly biting her lip. Hajime worried for Nagito. Surely he’d be most likely to break under the words of despair? But instead, he was staring right back at him, with that same strange, hurt expression he had worn three days ago. But was someone missing? There was a hole in the line. Where was-?

He heard sobbing.

Mikan had dropped to her knees, gasping, choking on her own tears. She clutched desperately at her chest, squeaking out words he couldn’t hear.

Shit.

Imposter had already grabbed her before Hajime could reach her side. “Mikan? Mikan, can you hear me? What’s wrong?”

When Hajime neared, he could finally hear her broken words: 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Her breath came out in short, shallow heaves as her eyes darted around the room feverishly. An asthma attack…? Did Mikan have asthma? He didn’t think so. 

But then she found her target. “Hiyoko, I-I..! I didn’t…! I’m s-s-s-!” She latched onto Hiyoko’s leg, her knuckles turning white. Hiyoko yelped and pulled back, her sandal coming off in Mikan’s hands. “Ibuki, I couldn’t…! Y-you were a-always so n-nice and I-!” Ibuki’s shirt was grabbed next.

Ibuki stumbled with the force, her hands splayed out to catch her balance. “Ibuki’s not mad at you, I swear!” But Mikan didn’t seem to hear.

She wasn’t having an asthma attack. She was having a panic attack.

Hajime fell into a kneel beside her, desperately pulling out the Ultimate Psychologist. He took her face in his hands and firmly turned it to keep her gaze. Heavy tears splashed on his fingers. “Mikan, look at me. It’s not real. It was just a video. It’s an act to keep us safe. Can you tell me-”

“I-I’m sorry, I k-killed…! I k-killed Chiaki!”

Hajime’s heart froze.

That’s right. What he had been told… Mikan was used as bait to lure the class to Junko Enoshima. It had worked, and then Mikan had separated Chiaki from them. And then Chiaki had been killed. Murdered. The very first “punishment time”. And her death had been used as the catalyst for the class’s brainwashing.

But still…

“You didn’t kill…” Hajime forced himself to maintain composure. He needed to. “You didn’t kill Chiaki. Junko did. And back then, you weren’t you. And right now? This is you. You’re here on Jabberwock, the real Jabberwock, with your friends who care about you more than anything.”

The panicked haze in Mikan’s eyes started to clear.

“Can you tell me what I just said? Where we are?”

Mikan swallowed thickly. “W-we… W-we’re on Jabberwock with our f-friends… Wh-who c-care about m-me.” 

Hajime let out the breath he had been holding. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.” He held out his hand, and she took it, wobbling onto her feet. “Do you want to come back to my office to talk about it?”

She let out a small hiccup, then nodded shakily.

“Alright.”

He kept a supportive hand on her back as they left, the room deafened with silence.

********************

The next morning, Hajime’s eyelids were heavy from exhaustion and guilt. Surely recording the video was the correct thing to do, right? When he had sent it, Makoto’s response had been quick and overwhelmingly grateful. But he didn’t have it in him to feel pride. Of course the video would be a trigger for his classmates. Truly, he believed that all of them deserved the chance to grow from what they’d been through, and he believed that all of them could. But it had been too much too soon. It was a miracle that only one of them had broken down. Maybe more of them had as well, when they were back in the privacy of their own cottages.

“Good morning, Hajime.”

“Hey,” he greeted Nagito back, his voice dull and tired.

Again, a cup of coffee was placed in front of him, and in the corner of his eye, he saw Nagito sit delicately next to him. Neither said anything more. Nagito’s eyebrows were drawn together, clearly thinking hard. Hajime wondered if he was trying to decide on the correct thing to say. In the simulation, he had never been hesitant when it came to expressing an opinion, to a fault. The utter lack of tact and self-awareness hadn’t exactly made him any friends. But he was trying to change, wasn’t he?

Hajime broke the silence, sparing Nagito from his inner turmoil, and sparing himself of whatever Nagito settled on saying. “Help me with this?” He gestured at the computer.

Nagito leaned closer and read. “‘Canned fruit, steel cables, cow feed’... ‘lavender’ and ‘diazepam’? Is this inventory?”

Hajime nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Or, it’s stuff that we’re asking the Future Foundation to bring on their next supply drop. Sonia took inventory of what we already have, and she asked everyone what they need for their jobs and stuff. And Mikan asked me to add the last two.”

“How is Mikan?” Nagito asked.

“She’s… okay. Right now, at least. I gave her the day off. I think the combination of filming the video and being off her anxiety medication was too much for her,” Hajime said. “It’ll probably be a stretch for the foundation to find the meds, but I need to at least try. It was my fault for making all of you do that stupid video.”

“The video wasn’t stupid.”

Hajime mumbled noncommittally before turning back to the computer, effectively ending the conversation.

Nagito clicked his metal fingers against the desk, and then brightened. “We should ask for a dog.”

Hajime snapped out of it. “A… what?”

“Don’t farmers usually get dogs to chase wild animals away from livestock? Gundham might appreciate it,” he explained.

“I mean… I guess? I think there’s just squirrels and rabbits and stuff here, though. Maybe a cat would be better?” Hajime said.

“I think… a dog would be better.” Nagito pressed his lips into a firm line. 

“But…” Realization dawned on him. “Nagito, do you… just want a dog?”

No answer.

Hajime swiveled in his chair to face him. Was this a normal conversation with Nagito Komaeda? That was an opportunity of a lifetime. He grinned and leaned on his elbow. “So, you like dogs, huh?”

The boy seemed surprised at the attention, but smiled shyly back. “Yeah. I had a big, fluffy one growing up. Her name was Machi, she was very sweet.”

“That’s awesome, man. I always wanted a pet growing up, but our apartment was too small for one,” Hajime said. Though, Hajime was more of a cat person. He was a bit too intimidated to share that right now, though.

“Hmm. That might have been for the best,” Nagito sighed, picking at a thread on his jacket. “I was really sad when she got hit by a car.”

There it is.

“Oh! Um. That... sucks. I’m really sorry.” Hajime fumbled for words. 

“It’s alright, it was a long time ago. Of course, I’ve gotten used to that kind of thing,” he assured.

“‘Used to it’?”

“My luck, of course,” Nagito explained, as if it were obvious. Which it was , but it’d been quite a while since Hajime had seen it firsthand.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, huh?” Hajime nudged his shoulder.

Nagito looked at him questioningly.

“I’ve got luck too, yeah? But I think us being together kind of… makes it less intense. Like instead of… I dunno, falling off a cliff into a pile of money, you stub your toe on a new TV. Or something,” Hajime said.

Nagito seemed very focused on his sleeve. “Not always.”

Hajime raised his eyebrows. “‘Not always’? Is that a prediction, or…?”

A blank smile was yet again pasted on Nagito’s face. He didn’t answer.

***********************

Hajime had been heading to his lunch break in the restaurant when the first job conflict occurred.

CRASH!

“Dammit!”

Hajime all but threw his sandwich onto the table before racing to the source of the sound. And there in the kitchen was Hiyoko, standing above a mess of plate shards.

“It’s not fair! Why do I have to be in charge of cleaning!? I hate cleaning!” She screeched.

Hajime pinched his forehead. “I told you this when I assigned jobs. If you think of something you’d like to do, let me know, but for now, we need someone to-”

“I’ll dance ! I’m a dancer !”

She said that before, too. “I know, but right now we-”

“I hate cleaning, I hate you, I hate this whole stupid island!” She screamed.

“Hiyoko, quit acting like-” Hajime started, then looked at the girl.

She was crying. Not her signature crocodile tears, but actual sobs. “Hiyoko…?”

“I just…” Hiyoko messily sniffled. “I just want to go home. I just want to go home!” 

He lightly took her shoulders and moved so that she was farther from the sharp glass on the floor. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll clean this up, okay?” He half (or more than half) expected the tears to stop once she got her way, but if anything, it worsened.

“Do you want to go back to my office to talk about it?” Hajime asked.

“Why would I ever want to be alone with you !?” Hiyoko instinctively snapped back, then wiped her nose. “I-I mean… okay…”

And back to the office they went.

***********************

“‘Updates on the whereabouts of Hiyoko Saionji’s father’?”

“She kind of had a breakdown yesterday. She said that finding out where he was might help.”

Once again, Nagito was reading the updated inventory request list. “What… about the dog? It might be useful.”

“Well, there’s only so much we can ask for, you know? The world’s still shit out there, and we’re already pretty spoiled as is,” Hajime said, trying to ignore the way the other’s shoulders slumped.

“...I understand.”

***********************

After the first full week back at Jabberwock, the first supply drop arrived. Technically, only Hajime’s presence was needed to sign off on the delivery, but Nagito, having fully and enthusiastically accepted his assistant role, tagged along, all but skipping with him to the island airport. And of course, the helicopter’s arrival was quite noisy, luring the other fourteen inhabitants over. As lovely as it was to live on a tropical island, the arrangements could very easily get monotonous, and any (positive) change in status quo was exciting. It was like Christmas, but with less toys and more canned food.

As Nekomaru and Akane heaved the boxes out of the helicopter, Hajime looked over their supply list with the pilot. Most of the items were checked off, except for…

“‘Lavender, diazepam, updates on the whereabouts of Hiyoko Saionji’s father’. No luck with those?” Hajime frowned.

The pilot shook his head. “I guess not. I’m not in charge of finding anything, but they weren’t in the inventory. But the last one isn’t really part of our job. You should probably message Ms. Asahina directly about that. It’s more of her department.”

“And the lavender and diazepam?”

“Nope. I would add it to the list for the next supply drop, though. They might find it next time.”

Hajime glanced over at Hiyoko and Mikan. From what he could tell, they hadn’t heard them. Those weren’t going to be fun conversations.

“Okay, I’ll-”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a booming yell of surprise from Nekomaru and a loud crash. Hajime whirled around. Darting out of the helicopter, making a racket, was-

“Is that a dog!?” Sonia squealed.

“What the he-” The pilot uttered in shock. “I’m sorry, I guess a stray got in…? I can take it back. I guess?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Gundham boomed, placing his hand on the dog’s head, whose tail was wagging madly at its new friend. “I shall take in this creature as my loyal companion. Together we will-”

“Gundham,” Hajime interrupted firmly. He jerked his head at Nagito. The boy was shell-shocked, mouth open, practically vibrating with restraint.

Gundham blinked, then whispered something to the dog, who then trotted happily over to Nagito, who looked like he was about to cry. “She has chosen The White One to take under her command,” he lied.

The dog sniffed Nagito’s hand, which was still glued to his side. He lifted it cautiously, and the dog licked it furiously. He put his metal hand on the dog’s ear and gently pet. Her tail wagged harder.

“She’s perfect,” He whispered.

The others didn’t seem to know what to do, before Peko approached slowly. “May I pet her?” she asked softly.

Nagito nodded quickly, and Peko touched the animal’s back, turning the excitement to the nervous swordswoman. The tension of the group immediately dissipated, and the poor dog was surrounded by all her new friends. She didn’t seem to mind.

“She’s so cute!”

“I wanna pet her, move!”

“Can I walk her?”

“What’s her name?”

“Do we have kibble? It doesn’t matter! I’ll make her the highest-quality food she could have!”

Hajime hadn’t noticed how hard he was smiling until he felt a soreness in his cheeks. He met Nagito’s eyes, and saw that he was grinning just as hard. He almost missed the single happy tear rolling down the other boy’s cheek.

********************

As soon as the chaos calmed down, Hajime, Nagito, and his newest, furry employee returned back to the office. As both boys doted over her, Nagito quietly asked for advice on her name. He was between “Nana” and “Nami”. Hajime felt a heavy lump form in his throat, and recommended the latter.

Nagito nodded, and ruffled his new pet’s ears. “Nami. Good girl,” he cooed.

Hajime felt his heart squeeze, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and he felt an odd, intense pride in his assistant.

********************

The second job conflict occurred the next day.

As soon as the five survivors of the Jabberwock killing game woke up, Kazuichi had made and supplied them with walkie-talkies. So far, they’d only been used as a way to announce a group meeting, or to alert everyone that one of their comatose friends had woken up.

But the day after the supply drop, while Hajime was writing that message to Hina, Ibuki’s panicked voice crackled from the speakers.

“Hajime! Mahiru is- I mean, Ibuki here! Mahiru is in the beach house with Peko and Fuyuhiko, she’s bleeding-!”

Hajime wasn’t sure he’d ran so fast in his life, Nagito and Nami in tow. A sickly high-pitched voice cackled in his mind, “ A body has been discovered! A body has been discovered! A body has been-!”

But when he got close enough, he heard Mahiru’s voice, borderline hyperventilating. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I swear, I-”

“You raised your voice against the young master. You were approaching him.” Peko.

“I was just talking-!” Mahiru.

“Don’t you dare talk about Natsumi, you psychotic bitch!” Fuyuhiko.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Hajime burst into the house. Mahiru was on the floor, her arm bleeding. It didn’t look deep, but Peko was standing over her, sword stained with red, Fuyuhiko behind her.

“Hajime, I swear, I was just trying to talk to Fuyuhiko. I was trying to apologize, I just wanted to make things right!” Mahiru insisted, tears sparkling in her terrified eyes.

“Where is Akane? She’s the police,” Nagito asked from the doorway, oddly calm.

“She’s off duty, dumbass. It’s my shift,” Fuyuhiko snarled.

“Then why did you let this happen!? You’re supposed to-!” Hajime couldn’t keep his voice down.

There was a deadly quiet as Fuyuhiko approached Hajime. Despite his height, he seemed to tower over him, the Ultimate Yakuza that he was.

“Are you really telling me...” Fuyuhiko growled, “...to punish Peko ? My allegiance to her has lasted decades before I ever sided with you.”

“This isn’t about your damn allegiance!”

Peko started approaching him with the deathly stealth of a panther, hand raising her sword, and-

Before either yakuza could register what was happening, Fuyuhiko was on the floor and Peko was grabbed by the wrist. Hajime’s heart beat harshly with the intensity of the Ultimate Police Officer.

“We are going. To my office. To talk. ” Hajime spit out.

Neither Fuyuhiko or Peko dared to argue against him.

Nami whined from behind Nagito’s legs.

********************

After the talk with Peko and Fuyuhiko, Hajime added another item to the inventory list.

“More first aid kits”.

********************

The worst job conflict happened the day after.

Hajime was heading back to his cottage, the work day long over. The sun was setting, though it was impossible to tell with the red sky. The red, red sky. 

And then he heard it.

A scream, choked with terror, coming from the restaurant.

Again, someone was lying on the floor, bleeding but very much alive. Teruteru. And above him, holding a skewer, dripping in blood, was…

“ Nagito!? ”

At his name, Nagito turned his head slowly to face Hajime.

“Ah, Hajime! I’m sorry for the noise. Teruteru was holding this skewer before he slipped and cut himself. I simply took it back from him,” Nagito explained sweetly.

Relief flooded through Hajime, as well as guilt for doubting the boy. Old mindsets died hard, huh? “Oh. Oh! Okay. Good. Teruteru, are you-”

“He told me he was glad that I died!”

Cold crawled down Hajime’s spine.

“What? No he didn’t! Nagito, tell him-”

“Just because you like marinating your meat in crazy doesn’t mean the rest of us have to put up with him!” Teruteru screamed.

Hajime choked. “Jesus, Teruteru-!”

A terribly, terribly familiar cackle rasped through the restaurant. No, no, stop, please-

“Oh, Teruteru, how delightfully disgusting of you!” Nagito gasped between laughs. “To think that you decided that your hope was the greatest of all, enough to murder! You! I had convinced myself that all of you deserved to come out on top. But not all hope is created equal, is it!?”

“I j-just wanted to make sure m-mama-”

“Is that what you tell yourself, to help you sleep at night? Oh, how easily   we can convince ourselves-”

A hand shot out, grabbed Nagito’s wrist, and twisted. Not enough to terribly injure, but enough to force the skewer out of his hand and drop it to the floor.

“You’re done,” Hajime hissed.

Nagito smiled at him, not phased by the new pain in his arm. “Hajime. Are we going to talk in your office now?”

The two left Teruteru whimpering on the floor.

*********************

Nagito regarded the room peacefully. “It’s funny, I don’t think I’ve been in the office during the night-”

“Nagito, what the fuck?”

He tilted his head innocently. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

Hajime leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“That’s not very professional of you, Hajime,” Nagito said, a mocking frown on his face.

“Good thing I’m not a professional.”

“Maybe if you pulled out the Ultimate-”

“Shut up .”

Nagito’s mouth snapped close.

Hajime buried his face in his hands. “Jesus, Nagito. You were doing so well. We talked normally, we laughed, we were friends… what even happened back there? Why would you do that?”

“I said that I was trying, not that I was fixed. Relapse is a part of the healing process. I figured you’d know that,” Nagito tapped his fingers on his chair.

“I do know that, and normally that’s okay, but… your relapses can hurt people. I want you to get better, I want to help, I really do. But the safety of everyone comes first.” It was a struggle to meet his eyes. The pain in his heart was sickly reminiscent of that first trial. When he had trusted this seemingly-well-intentioned boy. When he thought of him as a friend. When that thread of trust and friendship snapped violently and painfully with that first psychotic laugh.

Nagito looked away, silent. Despite his outward demeanor, Hajime could tell he wasn’t happy. There was a hint of shame on his face, and he could practically see his walls building themselves right back up. Or maybe they never went away in the first place.

“Nagito, just… Just talk to me.”

********************

And they did talk. They talked for two hours. They talked in circles, circles around the actual problem at hand, getting larger and farther from the topic as the clock ticked on. And the longer they talked, the more the walls rose.

At 10 pm, Hajime called it quits, announcing the time of death of any progress they had made. Before they parted, Hajime glumly said that he’d see him in the morning.

“No, you won’t,” Nagito replied cheerfully.

“What?” Hajime blinked.

“I’m fired, aren’t I? Or at least, I quit. I’m not the man for the job, after all. How can you be successful with such a failure for an assistant?” Nagito pondered. Instinctively, Hajime grabbed the back of the other’s shirt before he could walk off.

“Hajime?” Nagito asked.

“You’re not fired, and you’re not quitting. We all have jobs. This is yours,” Hajime said, feeling frustration bubble back up from its depths. “I’m going to see you in the morning. And after work, you are going to apologize to Teruteru-”

“I won’t mean it,” Nagito interrupted.

“-You are going to apologize to Teruteru, and you are going to eat dinner with the rest of us, and you are not going to hide in your cottage all day to convince yourself and convince the others that you’re a danger, or that you don’t belong here,” Hajime said forcefully.

There was quiet. Then…

“Fine. Get your hand off me,” Nagito said, an uncharacteristic coldness laced through his words.

Hajime let go, and he watched the other’s back, getting smaller as he walked away.

********************

Hajime did see Nagito the next morning. No “good morning, Hajime”, no coffee, no words at all as they worked. Nami was with him, of course, but even she seemed to sense the discomfort in the air, choosing to stay by her master’s side, giving Hajime the occasional nervous glance.

Hajime turned to the inventory request list and typed what he needed.

A new assistant.

A break.

A point to all this fuckery.

15 goddamn babysitters.

He stared at the list, anger blurring his vision. And then he sighed, willed the hotness in his face away, erased, and tried again.

Lavender.

Diazepam.

Chapter Text

Grudges are boring.

Or, at least, that’s what he’d been told.

It was a sentiment Nagito wished that he’d remembered during the simulation, especially in the last week or so. He doubted it would have changed his decision in the end, but maybe he’d have left a nicer impression before he “left” the program. After all, he hadn’t counted on facing the consequences of his actions after his stint in the warehouse. How could he have known? However, it was no use dwelling on it, since dwelling on the past was probably boring, too.

But in any case, grudges were boring, and that’s why, just two days after his incident with Teruteru, Nagito strolled into Hajime’s office with a “good morning, Hajime” on his lips and a mug of coffee (one spoonful of milk and one sugar, of course) in his hand, like nothing had happened.

Hajime jumped at the greeting. Nagito could practically see the gears turning in his head. Should he address Nagito’s 180 degree change in demeanor from the day before, or should he go along with it? “...Morning.” Evidently, it was the latter. 

“Did you sleep well?” Nagito smiled.

“Um… yeah, pretty good. You?” Hajime asked slowly. Very careful, wasn’t he?

“I’ve slept better. I had to take Nami out quite a lot last night. She’s still getting used to being domestic, I think,” Nagito replied. He reached down and scratched Nami’s ears fondly. The dog had seldom left his side since she had arrived at the island. Having her there really did make his heart feel full. It was quite a miracle that she was able to sneak into the helicopter and find her way to Jabberwock, having disproved Hajime’s theory that having the two of them together dampened Nagito’s luck. Hajime looked reluctant shooting down his request for the dog. Maybe when the two of them wanted the same thing, their combined fortune made their wish all but certain to come true.

Though, Nagito and Hajime rarely wanted the same thing.

“Oh, don’t complain. You love having her, don’t you?” Hajime grinned and held his hand out to Nami, who tucked her head under it for pets. Animals really were good at breaking tension, and the two of them were so cute together.

Cute, cute, cute.

Hajime was so cute.

The way he furrowed his brows when he concentrated, the way he crinkled his nose when he was confused, the way the tips of his ears turned red when someone showed him any hint of affection. Not like he didn’t deserve praise; the boy was just one to avoid touchy-feely emotions entirely. In a purely selfish way, Nagito was kind of happy about that. He could almost pretend that Hajime felt something towards him too, but was too nervous to show it. Something besides hate, that is.

Most of the time, Nagito laughed that thought away. Daydreams could get ridiculously unrealistic sometimes.

“Um… Nagito?” Hajime pulled the other away from his adoring thoughts.

“Hajime?” Nagito didn’t let his tone betray the words he prepared for. What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out. You’re insane. You’ll never get better. And I could never, ever, ever love you back-

“I wanted to talk to you about your dementia. And lymphoma.”

This was not what Nagito expected.

“Oh, Hajime,” he chided. “Didn’t I tell you I was joking about that? I simply wanted to see-”

“Drop the act. We did medical exams on everyone who didn’t wake up after the program,” Hajime said.

Oh. “...That’s quite the invasion of privacy, Hajime,” Nagito mumbled.

“Well. We weren’t exactly in a normal situation,” Hajime said dryly. His finger was rapidly tapping on his desk. Uncomfortable. “We had to make sure everyone could actually wake up.”

“Well then.” Nagito placed his head into his hand. “What about me did you want to discuss?”

“I want to do another exam now that you’re awake,” Hajime explained, leaning toward him. “It’ll be easier with you able to answer questions. And maybe something has changed since then. We have the supplies to check.”

“I wouldn’t waste your time,” Nagito dismissed him, feigning interest in the papers in his hand. “There’s no point. Nothing has changed. It never does.”

“Nagito. Look at me?”

He did, hesitantly. And his heart nearly stopped. Hajime was still leaning towards him. He was close. Much, much too close.

“Do it for me?” Hajime pleaded.

That… was a low blow. Nagito had never kept his feelings a secret from the other. Why did it matter? But Hajime hadn’t used that knowledge to manipulate him before. Fortunately, Nagito caught on. So surely he’d be able to-

“Fine.”

Dammit.

Hajime leaned back, arms behind his head, grinning cheekily. “How does tomorrow sound?”

“Fine,” He said again.

Before Hajime could reply, both boys’ walkie talkies beeped with an incoming message.

“Hajime, come to the- I mean, this is Ibuki! Hajime, come to the beach on the middle island!” Ibuki sounded nervous.

“Sure. Why, though?” Hajime asked, his nose crinkling in confusion. Cute.

“Just… just come, okay?”

“Alright?” he agreed, glancing at Nagito. He shrugged.

They found Ibuki uncharacteristically still at the beach, her face angled intensely at the sky. 

“Ibuki, what- mmph!” Ibuki slapped her hand over Hajime’s mouth. Annoyed, he peeled her fingers away and started to talk, but Ibuki shook her head furiously. She pressed a finger to her lips, cupped her ear, and then pointed to the sky. 

The three fell quiet, but all Nagito could hear was the rush of waves. From the look on his face, Hajime couldn’t hear anything either, and raised an eyebrow at the girl. Ibuki (somehow) silently stomped her foot, wrung her hands in frustration, and pointed at Hajime’s left eye. The Izuru eye. Hajime sighed, then briefly squinted his eyes shut. When they opened, the red seemed to glow a bit brighter than before. 

Pulling out his talents wasn’t a natural thing, unlike how it was with every other ultimate. It was almost as if he was disconnecting and reattaching wires in his brain, rerouting his energy before taking on a new persona, brought to him by Izuru. 

Nagito wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

Whatever Hajime chose seemed to do the trick. (Ultimate Musician 2.0? Ultimate ear-owner? Ultimate bat? Who knows.) Almost immediately, he flinched and whipped his head toward Ibuki. 

“It’s a helicopter, right?” She whispered.

Hajime nodded. 

“Is the Future Foundation supposed to come today?” Nagito asked. 

Hajime shook his head. “And they never come without telling me first.” 

“What do we do?” Ibuki asked, her voice starting to rise to the normal Ibuki-volume. She tightly gripped both boys’ arms, and Nagito jumped with the unexpected contact. 

Hajime bit his lip, then pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Hajime here. Code yellow. Ibuki and I heard a helicopter nearby, but it’s not close enough to see.” 

Code yellow: only go outside if absolutely necessary. 

“Come on, let’s get back to the office,” Hajime pat Nagito’s shoulder (who jumped again ), then turned to Ibuki. “Stay in the beach house, keep an ear out the window.”

Ibuki elbowed Nagito and pretended to throw said ear like a rope. 

He smiled back weakly as thirteen “Code yellow confirmed”’s sounded off in their pockets. 

********************

The code yellow was called off at 9 that night, three hours after the sound of the helicopter had disappeared. Even then, Nagito saw Hajime sitting outside his cottage till morning, empty cans of energy drinks slowly piling up beside him. For a while, Nagito watched him sit there, tempted to join and keep him company. But in the end, he decided he shouldn’t distract Hajime from his post. Or dirty Hajime’s air with his presence. Or get pushed into the water when he inevitably did something wrong. 

There were lots of reasons. 

When Nagito (and Nami) made his way to work, he felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief when he saw Hajime there anyway, slumped over on the desk. Disappointed that Hajime was forcing himself to work even after staying up the whole night, but relieved because… well, it was Hajime.

“Do you want to use my jacket as a pillow?” Nagito asked sweetly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hajime grumbled. 

“I’m not making fun of you.” Well, not entirely. “It’s not good for you to stay up all night.”

If Hajime caught on that Nagito had watched him, he didn’t show it. “‘Just trying to keep everyone safe.”

“And I’ll forever be grateful for all that you’ve done for me, Hajime,” Nagito said. He looked to see if Hajime’s ears would redden. They did. Cute . 

When there wasn’t a response, he spoke again. “I know how tired you are. If you want to skip my medical examination today, please do.”

Immediately, Hajime’s head snapped up. His hair was rumpled and the shadows under his eyes were prominent, but he looked surprisingly awake. “Shit, I forgot. No, we’re doing that today.”

Nagito winced. He wanted to stop the exam, not remind him of it. “Hajime-“

“Shut up.” Hajime shot him a glare before calling Mikan to meet them at the hospital. 

********************

Nagito liked to think he was a good patient. It was a compliment he had received often during his childhood, having encountered his fair share of nurses and doctors. He knew it was probably said out of pity for the poor, sick kid, but it was nice to hear.

However, Nagito was getting very antsy waiting for Hajime and Mikan to finish whatever medical nonsense they were doing. 

They asked him questions, stuck him with needles, threw him in an MRI, and left him alone for thirty minutes. Then they came back in, asked more questions, stuck him with more needles, threw him in an MRI again , and left him alone for an hour . The last two times they came back, they did without the needles and MRI, but had a brand-new batch of questions and physical exams. The two of them were bumbling around and repeating steps like interns, not like the Ultimate Nurse and Doctor that they were.

“Was this just an excuse to stick me with sharp objects? Oh Mikan, you should have just asked!” Nagito had exclaimed when the nurse came in to grab one of the samples on the table. She teetered out in a hurry, stuttering out apologies.

“Did Izuru misplace his medical license?” He had asked when Hajime felt around the lump on his neck for the umpteenth time. All he got was a flick on the back of his head.

And now Nagito was flopped over on his back in the bed, trying and failing to avoid the newly-punctured spots on his spine. Maybe he’d have more patience if he was in any other hospital, but simply being in this particular one was almost more than he could take. He flung an arm over his eyes, trying to fool himself that he was in literally any other exam room. But still, he felt the terribly familiar feeling of that particular hospital gown on his skin and mattress under his body.

Three times, Nagito had been in the Jabberwock hospital. The last two visits were far from pleasant, of course. The move from the pod to the clinic hadn’t taken too long, but the feeling of her hand, still affixed messily to his left arm, was enough to make him pass out on Hajime. But when he woke up, the hand was gone, his arm was disinfected. A day later he was back, fitted to his new metal prosthetic. But the first visit…

Ever since his parents had been killed, Nagito didn’t particularly fear death. Being sick for all his life, and then losing the two people he was (somewhat) closest to, made its inevitability click in his brain. But in the simulation, he had asked, begged even, to be killed for the sake of hope, and for the survival of those who deserved life so much more. When the despair disease had set in, he was convinced that it was it for him. His death would be pointless, hopeless. Just another body to be dumped out, or whatever Monokuma had done with the others. 

As his head burned and his vision blurred, he had wondered if he wanted to be murdered not just to further hope, but simply to prevent himself from dying alone. The eyes of a killer, filled with hatred and violence, would be better than none at all.

But then Hajime had entered the room.

The other boy hadn’t been concerned about him, Nagito figured as much. The unhappiness and worry on his face was surely for the sake of Ibuki and Akane, resting in the other rooms. Still, Nagito called out to him selfishly. He needed him to stay. He needed him to know how much joy he gave him, how much love he made him feel. But instead, Nagito couldn’t stop himself from spitting out the opposite. That he hated him, that he didn’t want to be with him. And Hajime took those words at face value and left him to suffer. Nagito wondered if he truly was that dense, or if Hajime merely pretended to be, to have an excuse to leave. 

Just remembering the event was enough to make his eyes sting with tears, and Nagito despised crying. So he was grateful when Hajime, the real, present Hajime, came back, Mikan trailing behind him.

“Will you finally talk to me? I’m getting quite tired of waiting,” Nagito asked. His face was still covered, willing the tears away before the others could see them.

“I… yes. Just… Just look,” he heard Hajime say. His voice sounded strange.

Nagito sighed and sat up. Laid on the bed in front of him were three photos, all of a brain, scanned from the MRI. Those kinds of images were quite familiar; two of them showed a normal brain, and the third was a replica of his own, laced with more black than it should have been.

“I’m aware of what my brain should look like, Hajime,” Nagito commented. 

“This is the result of the MRI we had taken when you were in the pod,” Hajime said, placing his finger lightly on the darker photo.

“B-but… w-we took these two today. This one f-first, and this one t-to d-double-check,” Mikan said, pointing at the other pictures.

The other normal pictures.

“...What,” Nagito said flatly.

“Your brain, it… I think it healed itself. I think… your dementia is going away,” Hajime said, his voice hushed.

Nagito blinked, then coughed out a laugh. “Hajime. That’s not possible. It can’t just go away ,” he chuckled. “Are you sure you’re qualified for this?”

“I know. It’s not possible. It shouldn’t be possible, but…” Hajime shook his head. “I think… it was luck.”

“B-but… I thought h-his luck only m-made his life expectancy l-longer,” Mikan said, uncertain.

“We both have luck though, and his was already ridiculously high,” Hajime remarked. “If we put ours together, though, maybe..?”

“Are you implying that you simply gave me your fortune?” Nagito frowned. “Luck is a very selfish thing. Too selfish to work like that, anyway.”

“But what if we wanted the same thing?” Hajime insisted.

“Well, maybe, but-” Nagito stopped.

Wanted the same thing…?

“Now isn’t a very good time for a joke,” Nagito huffed. “I figured the Ultimate Comedian would-”

“I’m not joking, Nagito.”

Nagito’s eyes widened.

“Why?” He asked. “Why would you…”

“U-um!” Mikan squeaked. Both boys jumped, having forgotten she was there. “I-I! I th-think I l-left… I l-left the u-um… m-my bag! I-in the w-waiting r-room! I-I’ll just-!”

Mikan scurried away with the obvious lie. “Wait, Mikan, you don’t have to-!” Hajime called, but she was already gone. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Fair.

“Ah,” Hajime scratched the back of his head, his face pink. “Okay. I’ll…” He sat next to Nagito on the bed, a good amount of space between them. “Obviously, I want you to get better, yeah?”

It wasn’t exactly the most dramatic thing someone could say to another, but Nagito was still shocked, and Hajime was still embarrassed.

“I’m worried about your memory, Hajime,” Nagito feigned concern. “Should I remind you of the simulation?”

“Nope. Definitely haven’t forgotten,” Hajime grumbled. “But-”

“And I’ve been meaning to ask you about that psychodive you had done on me,” Nagito said in mock curiosity. “How convenient it would have been. You would have gotten rid of one of the biggest thorns of your side, had you simply just left me alone. You wouldn’t admit that to the others of course, but you’d all be relieved. And guiltless.”

“Do you really think that little of me?” Hajime demanded.

Sometimes. “I’ve never thought of someone greater,” Nagito said.

“Then believe me. Don’t get me wrong, you were an asshole. But you deserved a second chance, just like the rest of us. I would never leave you like that,” Hajime insisted. A hand was placed on Nagito’s shoulder.

Nagito’s brain whirred. “Hajime-”

And then Mikan had stumbled back into the room, bag in hand, and Hajime’s hand jerked away in record speed. 

“Well then,” Nagito said, turning his head away to hide the blush. “Let’s say you’re right about the dementia being gone. There’s still the matter of my lymphoma.”

“Right now, it seems about the same, and usually we’d just treat it like your doctors had already been doing,” Hajime said. “But if our luck actually allowed those parts of your brain to regenerate, I think it’d be worth it to see if something’s changed in your lymph nodes as well.”

“W-we could perform an excisional b-biopsy to see if the cancer cells are still present,” Mikan piped up. “A-and if y-you’re okay with it, w-we could do it today!”

“Today? Already?” Nagito gawked.

“Well, the waitlist is pretty short, considering you’re literally the only patient,” Hajime grinned. “So what do you think?”

“I…” Nagito blinked, still trying to process the information. “Surely you have better things to do than treat someone like-”

“Yes or no,” Hajime interrupted.

Nagito was frozen.

Looking to the future always seemed pointless, ever since he had been told he’d only have roughly a year to live. The first time he heard it, he’d taken the doctor’s word for it, made his peace with it. Granted, he had been told that same estimate many times, when his luck stretched his life expectancy way beyond what it should have been, but Nagito knew the clock was still ticking. One day, the words “one year, give or take” would actually be true, and he’d be in the ground when the time was up. But with the brain damage reversed and the cancer in probable remission, the doors to the rest of his life had been swung open. In a way, this was scarier, like being dropped in the ocean with no way to know how deep the bottom went. But it was that way for everyone, wasn’t it?

“I want to do the procedure.”

********************

Waking up from anesthesia never got easier.

Nagito’s mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and there was a stiff sting on the side of his neck, even with the pain medication being pushed in from the I.V. drip. Blinding overhead lights forced his eyes back shut.

“Mmph… Haj… Hajime?” He mumbled, his words thickened with exhaustion. A shadow passed over his eyelids.

“Hey, you awake?” Hajime asked. He sounded so far away… Nagito sleepily raised his free hand until it met the other’s fingers.

“Morning,” Nagito slurred, pulling down Hajime’s hand to cup his cheek. “‘Like waking up t’you… Pretty, pretty Hajime…”

The hand yanked itself away and pressed against Nagito’s mouth.

“Ow. Rude,” he grumbled against his palm.

“No, I just- Don’t talk, save your strength,” Hajime urged.

Save his strength? That didn’t make sense. One eye peeled open. Hajime was there (red-faced, of course), but he looked frantic. And he wasn’t alone. Behind him was Mikan, obviously, but also Ryota, Imposter, Kazuichi, and Peko.

“Aw, you’re here for me?” Nagito blinked quickly, adjusting his eyes.

Hajime removed his hand. “No. Code red.”

Code red: shelter in place, don’t go outside for any reason.

Nagito struggled into a sitting position, sobering up quickly. “What happened?”

“There’s a helicopter directly overhead,” Peko answered him. “It’s been circling for about an hour.”

“Are we sure it’s because of us?” Ryota asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s looking for some thing,” Hajime said. “We’re not taking any risks. I’m not letting anyone get hurt.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Imposter agreed, leaning over to look out the window.

“B-but if i-it is b-bad, w-what are w-we going to d-do?” Mikan fretted.

“Maybe we could find a way to bring it down and see what they want?” Kazuichi suggested.

“No explosives,” Hajime said.

“What? I wasn’t gonna… How dare you!” Kazuichi sputtered.

Hajime gave him a tense smile.

Nagito wasn’t sure how long the helicopter lingered. An hour, maybe? Stuffing seven people in one hospital room wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but Hajime insisted that they stay close. Every ten minutes or so, the others would buzz in on the walkie talkie, confirming that they were still safe and staying put. Hajime assured a stressed-out Nagito that Mahiru and Hiyoko had grabbed Nami before taking shelter in Hiyoko’s cottage.

When the helicopter finally retreated back into the horizon, Hajime called a code yellow and allowed Peko, Kazuichi, Imposter, and Ryota to retreat back to their cottages.

Another hour passed, and Hajime decided the coast was clear.

********************

There wasn’t another flying visitor the next day, and for that, Nagito was grateful. Even though Nami basically had free reign over the island, Nagito preferred to walk her himself, strolling around some undefined path as the dog ran circles around him. The breeze was pleasantly warm through the gentle transition between summer and fall. It was a bit of a stretch to call the weather “nice” though; things could only feel so cheery with that harsh sky above them. 

That red, red sky.

But Nami didn’t seem to mind, and Nagito wondered if the dog had been born after the Tragedy already started. He almost hoped she did. Maybe it was nice, living in ignorance about what things used to be. How things should have been.

“Hey, Nagito! I was looking for you!”

Nagito turned around to see Hajime jogging toward him. He wondered how long the boy had been running. How far was Hajime even able to run? Who knew.

“Ah, Hajime!” Nagito greeted as the other slowed to a stop in front of him. “Did you use your Ultimate Trash Collector talent to find me?”

“No, I asked- wait, what? Oh. Ha-ha.” Hajime rolled his eyes before sitting down on a nearby bench. He motioned for Nagito to sit next to him.

“I finished looking at the lymph node we took out,” Hajime said, his expression carefully unreadable. 

“...Ah,” Nagito replied simply. He focused his eyes on his lap, fiddling with his sleeve.

“Nagito.” Hajime grabbed his wrist to force his gaze back on his face. A wide grin split his face.

“The cancer’s in remission. You’re clear.”

Nagito’s head slowly turned back forward. 

“I mean… I’m 99% sure it is. Same with the dementia being gone. I want to do more tests, at least when things have calmed down, to make sure we’re right about this,” Hajime continued.

“And this isn’t a joke?” Nagito asked quietly.

“Why do you keep thinking that I would joke about that?” Hajime grumbled.

Nagito weakly shrugged.

There was a beat of silence.

“How… are you feeling?” Hajime asked.

“Scared,” Nagito admitted. The other raised an eyebrow, and he continued. “I never expected to make it this long. I… don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Who does, anymore?” Hajime mumbled. He scratched Nami under the chin, who’d bounded over to see her other companion. “We’re all kind of floundering here.”

Nagito studied his friend’s face. He hadn’t noticed before, but the circles under his eyes were more prominent, his expression slightly duller than it would have been otherwise.

“Hajime. Did you stay up all night again?” Nagito scolded.

“Hey. We’re not making this about me. We’re talking about you. ” Hajime narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. We’re talking about how I’m worried for your health.”

Hajime sighed, relenting, and pushed his face into his hand. “I didn’t keep watch. We rotated between Ibuki, Peko, and Fuyuhiko.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Hajime peeked at him from between his fingers. “You know, I found Imposter yesterday. He was in the abandoned building’s dining room, just sitting there. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t moving, he wasn’t responding when I tried to talk to him. I kept him company, but I think he stayed there for like half an hour. Then he finally snapped out of it and acted like nothing happened.”

Nagito raised his eyebrows.

“And Kaz is working on a jammer to bring down any helicopter that comes back, but who knows if that will work. Or maybe it’ll work too well and crash it, and we’ll either have killed an innocent person, or we’ll have killed someone that we didn’t get to question.” Hajime’s fingers clenched harder.

“And yesterday, guess what I found? I found Gundham and Nekomaru outside the funhouse, getting ready to have a rematch. On a fight to the death. And Akane, the police, was encouraging it. Not because she was mad at Gundham, but because she thought it was the right thing to do. Sonia was crying when she called me to stop it. I wasn’t able to change their minds, either. I had to get Sonia to keep watch over her own boyfriend, and I had to keep watch over Nekomaru myself, because again, Akane was all for the idea.” His voice had risen in revulsion.

“I didn’t know that,” Nagito murmured.

“Because I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to set you off, ” Hajime snapped. 

So he was still angry. Nagito stayed silent, fearing that whatever he said would make things worse.

“Did… did you ever apologize to Teruteru?” Hajime faltered, quieting back down.

Nagito nodded, still not trusting himself to speak.

“How’d he take it?”

“Not the best,” Nagito admitted. “He just stared at me a bit, and then scurried off.”

“Yeah well, what did you say?” Hajime asked, finally raising his head to look at the other.

“Hmm,” Nagito thought, finger to his chin. “I told him that I was sorry that his hope wasn’t to my expectations, and that I was sorry that he was a foul, lewd degenerate.”

Hajime threw his face back into his hands.

Nagito smirked and lightly touched his shoulder. “Hajime? That was a joke. I just said that I was sorry, and that I regretted what I said.”

“Jackass,” he mumbled.

Nagito laughed lightly, then paused. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was trying, you know. I think it was seeing the skewer in his hand that ‘set me off’. In the first trial, it was what led you to learn that I wasn’t the one who killed Imposter. I think that was the first time someone on Jabberwock had let me down.”

“Mm.”

“I’m tired of being the reason you’re unhappy,” Nagito tilted his head to meet Hajime’s eyes. “I want to change. For you.”

Hajime shook his head. “Don’t try to change for me. I don’t rule your life. Change for yourself, okay? Get better for you.”

“I don’t rule your life.” Funny. But Nagito nodded slowly. “I… I’ll try. Okay.”

At this, Hajime smiled, genuinely smiled, and wrapped his arm around Nagito’s shoulders to pull him into a gentle side-hug.

Nagito froze. He’s touching me he’s touching me he’s touching me he’s-

“Uh. Sorry, I just. Forget about that,” Hajime blushed furiously, removing his arm when he noticed how stiff the other had gotten, unaware that his friend was simply afraid that any move he made would be wrong, wrong, wrong.

Feeling the weight lift off his shoulders was horrible. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean to-!” Nagito quickly scooted back over, before carefully leaning the top of his head into the crook of the other’s neck. 

By the way Hajime flinched, this was obviously not the socially acceptable response, but his arm gently looped back over his friend. In the corner of his mind, he knew the other was probably very uncomfortable. Hajime knew that Nagito was in love with him, and he was probably terrified that the physical closeness would be misinterpreted and thought of as anything but platonic. But Nagito couldn’t help but feel perhaps the happiest he’d been since he woke up, unable to pull himself away from the warmth.

Until he heard footsteps, at least. He opened his eyes (which had closed sometime during the exchange) to see Ryota walking in their direction. As much as the thought pained him, Nagito knew that being seen in this position would embarrass Hajime to an impossible degree, so he moved out from under the half-embrace.

“Ryota,” Nagito greeted.

His efforts apparently weren’t enough. Hajime leaped off the bench, flustered and red. “Oh, Ryota! Hey! I was just talking to, uh.” He turned swiftly to Nagito, who was still reeling from the change in demeanor. “It was good talking to you! I mean, it was… it was okay talking to you! So, I’ll just, um!” He gave a very unnaturally fast wave to their new guest before speeding off.

“...Bye?” Ryota said, but Hajime was already out of earshot.

“Do forget what you saw,” Nagito recommended.

“Um, yeah, no problem,” Ryota said, still utterly confused. Nami noticed this arrival and bounded over to him. Ryota squeaked and jumped back.

At Nagito’s confused look, he stuttered out, “Sorry, I’m… I’m a little scared of…”

“Oh,” Nagito frowned, slightly disappointed in the boy. “Nami, here girl!”

She definitely hadn’t learned her name yet, but she knew her owner’s voice, and ran back to his side.

“Hey, I know it’s not my business, but…” Ryota gave a small smile. “It’s nice that you and Hajime are friends. It makes me… hopeful, I guess?”

Hope? He obviously didn’t know Nagito very well. “I think it would be impossible for Hajime to ever consider me a friend,” Nagito said, cheerful despite his word choice. “But why is that?”

“I don’t know, it’s just…” Ryota absentmindedly kicked a pebble on the ground. “You’re able to be fr- ...I mean, be friendly, even after what’s happened between you two.”

“Yes, we were somewhat cruel to each other during the simulation,” Nagito said slowly. He supposed someone must have told Ryota about that, considering he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. 

“You were? Huh.” Ryota looked surprised. “I was talking about before that, though.”

Nagito’s heart stopped.

“...Explain.” He said coldly.

The other was startled at the sudden change of mood. “Um! I mean. Didn’t Izuru shoot you? Before… everything? I was there.”

Ah. He did, didn’t he?

“Yes. Yes, Izuru and I did attempt to kill each other,” Nagito said, choosing his words very carefully. “Have you mentioned this to Hajime?”

“No?” Ryota was confused. “Wait, does he not know?”

“No. Hajime doesn’t know. And he won’t ever know,” Nagito said, slowly standing up from the bench.

“Why? You didn’t actually hurt each other, did you? I’m sure he’ll forgive you. And it looks like you’ve forgiven him,” Ryota’s voice shook slightly as the taller boy approached. Yes, Nagito had forgiven Izuru. He forgave him immediately. He never was angry about it in the first place.

“Ryota,” Nagito purred. He was now towering over him, freezing him to the spot. “Hajime doesn’t know that Izuru and I have ever met. And it will stay that way.”

Ryota was terrified. “Y-yeah, no problem!”

“If you tell Hajime about this, I will be very upset. Understand?” Nagito’s shadow blocked out any sunlight that would have shone if the sky was normal. If the sky wasn’t red. If the sky wasn’t bloody.

Ryota nodded jerkily, too scared to open his mouth.

And immediately, Nagito was out of his space, his cheerful, blank smile back in place.

“Good.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, so you remember how on your first day of work, you kept track of what everyone did? And I told you not to do that anymore, because it was creepy?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to do that again.”

Nagito looked up from his plate in surprise. 

Hajime and Nagito had started eating breakfast together before work. It began when Hajime woke up a bit earlier than usual one morning, and he decided that food sounded more appealing than going back to sleep. When he got to the restaurant, he found Nagito there, eating alone, a stark contrast to Hajime’s routine of having meals with their other, rowdier classmates. 

“I don’t want to ruin everyone’s breakfast with my presence,” Nagito had explained with a smile. “You know how uncomfortable I make them.”

Hajime had, for whatever reason, felt fiercely protective of the boy, and opted to change his sleep schedule to keep him company. 

And now it was their third day eating together, too early in the morning for anyone to bother. 

“You want me… to watch everyone?” Nagito asked. 

“Yes. Kinda,” Hajime said. “I need to know who’s mad at who, or who avoids who, or who’s scared of who. That stuff.”

“Of course,” Nagito agreed, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Out of curiosity, what do you plan on doing with the information?”

Hajime leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in a “tah-dah” gesture. “Therapy. Some mixture of group counseling, conflict resolution, exposure therapy, the works. Because I’m tired of walking on eggshells, and I’ve officially run out of ideas.”

Nagito smiled and tilted his head. “As someone who’s undergone all of those, I can vouch for their effectiveness.”

Hajime blinked. He had? Actually, of course he had. “Well. As someone who’s done none of those things before but knows way too much about each of them, I’ll take your word for it.”

Nagito chuckled before standing up and gathering his and Hajime’s dishes. “So, if ‘being creepy’ is my job for the day, what is yours?”

Hajime grimaced at the reminder. 

“Gonna figure out how to hijack a helicopter. 

********************

“Okay, so we’re gonna connect these-“

“Yeah, and then that’ll make it-“

“Sure, but we’ll have to make sure to-“

“Don’t worry, I’ve already got that covered.”

Seeing Hajime and Kazuichi work probably looked really strange to someone who was already acquainted with them. On a normal day, Kazuichi would be joking about their classmates, or gushing about his projects, or lamenting about his love life, and Hajime would be scolding him for being an ass, or humoring his excitement, or telling him to stop romanticizing anything with a pair of tits. 

But now they were tinkering, tossing tools around, testing, and finishing each other’s sentences when it took too long to complete a thought. Personally, Hajime found it easier to work without having to socialize. Even though he had every talent at his fingertips, it took an annoying amount of concentration to maintain his focus on both a task and a conversation at the same time. Kazuichi, however, the natural Ultimate Mechanic, was in his own kind of flow. It wasn’t like he needed to give all of his attention to do a good job; he simply wanted to. It was easy to forget that the goofy boy was extremely talented, until he was seen in his element.

“Um… Okay,” Kazuichi said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “You wanna test this thing?”

Hajime analyzed their handiwork. Between the two of them, refining the equipment had only taken about three hours, and he was pretty sure it would suffice. Still, it couldn’t hurt. “Yeah. How, though?”

Kazuichi brightened and darted into the cluttered building on Electric Avenue. Much like Hajime, he’d simply found a location he liked and staked his claim, calling it his official workspace.

When he emerged, he was lugging a patchwork lump of metal, vaguely recognizable as a drone. “We’re gonna use Jo!”

“We’re gonna use… huh?” Hajime eyed the new machine.

“J1-A0! You know, Jo!” Kazuichi beamed. “I made him like, as soon as the five of us woke up, when the foundation hadn’t sent anything yet. This guy’s basically a miracle!”

“If you say so,” Hajime said, taking “Jo’s” controller from the other. “So, are we gonna hijack him?”

Kazuichi whipped towards him, eyes sparkling. “Fuck yeah.”

Jo was placed on the clear section of road in front of them, and Hajime stood back, turning the controller around in his hands. Seemed simple enough. He pressed the button for thrust, pushing that craft jerkily into the sky, blades whirring loudly. The drone circled around the two as Hajime thumbed the joystick.

Kazuichi, who demanded to try out the jammer first, aimed the remote at the wobbly Jo. Turning to the larger cube below him, he flicked a switch, pressed one button, and held another. “Alright,” he breathed, eyes on his flying metal buddy. “Let go of the thrust.”

Hajime obliged, and to his relief, Jo remained in the air, now under the control of the other mechanic.

Kazuichi took hold of the lever on the jammer and instructed Hajime to try to move the drone around. Despite Hajime’s attempts, Jo was fixed in position.

“Hell yeah,” Kazuichi grinned. “I’m going to try to move him. Sloooowly, slooooooowly…”

He nudged the lever. Jo darted off and smashed into a nearby building.

“ Ah, fuck, Jo!” Kazuichi screamed and raced after his dearly departed.

Hajime hoped the helicopter didn’t try to make another visit any time soon.

“Didn’t go well?”

Hajime turned to find Nagito standing a bit away, trying to cover up a laugh.

“It’s gone better,” Hajime grumbled, walking over to meet him. “Did you finish looking around?”

Nagito nodded, proudly placing a piece of paper into Hajime’s hands.

“And you weren’t too creepy investigating, were you?”

“No one even noticed me,” Nagito assured.

That was a bit disturbing, but Hajime chose to ignore it and turn his attention to the list of names, already grouped together.

Teruteru - Imposter

Mikan - Hiyoko

Akane/Nekomaru - Sonia/Gundham

Mahiru - Fuyuhiko/Peko

Nagito - Teruteru/Imposter/Mikan/Hiyoko/Akane/Nekomaru/Sonia/Gundham/Mahiru/Fuyuhiko/Peko/Ibuki/Kazuichi/Ryota/Hajime(?)

Hajime rolled his eyes and smudged out his name in the last group. Nagito looked pleased.

“Good news: Jo’s gonna make it! But jeez, we’re gonna need to mess with the sensitivity settings on the jam-” Kazuichi jogged towards Hajime, before freezing in place when he noticed their guest.

“Hello, Kazuichi,” Nagito greeted brightly. “Is Jo your drone? I’m glad he’s okay.”

Kazuichi eyed the other cautiously. “Uh… yeah. Thanks.” He quickly turned back to Hajime, effectively shutting Nagito out. “Hey, what’s the list? Is that us?”

Hajime nodded, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail. “People are still pissed at each other, and I’m trying to intervene before things get too bad.”

“Playing shrink, huh?” Kazuichi joked, then frowned. “Wait, didn’t you give that kumbaya speech a couple weeks ago, about how we should all get along? Did that not work?”

“It’s not exactly that simple, Kaz.”

His friend shrugged, then tried to look over his shoulder. “Can I see?”

“Hmm,” Hajime thought, scanning the page. “You’re not part of any of the small groups. I don’t see why not, as long as you don’t yap about it.”

“Breaking patient confidentiality? That’s not very professional, Hajime,” Nagito peeped up from behind Kazuichi.

“Good thing I’m not a professional,” Hajime shot back, grinning.

Nagito giggled. Kazuichi’s eyes bugged out.

“It looks like it’s mostly about what happened in the simulation, like you told me before,” Hajime theorized, trying to distract Kazuichi from his not-so-subtle shock.

It worked. “Didn’t Mikan off Ibuki, too? How come she’s not part of that group?” Kazuichi asked.

“Oh, Mikan did avoid Ibuki in the beginning,” Nagito cut in. “But then Ibuki took Hajime’s speech to heart and has repeatedly forced her presence on Mikan. She seemed uncomfortable about it at first, but she seems to have gotten used to it.”

“Looks like me, Ibuki, and Ryota are the good kids!” Kazuichi grinned. “I mean, uh. Except for the bottom.”

“Yeah, well,” Hajime dismissed. “Why is Ryota lumped in with you at the bottom, too? He didn’t know you till two-ish weeks ago.”

Nagito shrugged. “I’m not sure. Best not to press it.”

“If you say so,” Hajime muttered, then handed the paper back to his assistant. “Okay, tell Teruteru to wait in my office, and let Imposter know that I’m going to come get him myself. I’m keeping them separated until I’m with them.”

Nagito agreed, then turned to leave. Hajime grabbed his sleeve to stop him.

“Hey?” Hajime narrowed his eyes. “Keep it brief, don’t be weird.”

Nagito patted the hand holding him in place, too used to those kinds of orders to be insulted. “Anything for you, Hajime.”

“Gah. Yeah, um. Thanks,” Hajime mumbled and let go of him. That kind of Nagito-esque attention never failed to mortify.

Kazuichi’s eyes were glued to the retreating boy’s back, before whirling over to Hajime once he was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that guy.”

Uh oh. “Why?” Hajime asked carefully.

“ Why ? Why the hell are you two so buddy-buddy?!” Kazuichi burst out. “He tried to kill us! Also, he’s a fucking asshole !”

Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose. “We all did some messed up shit, Kaz.”

“We were brainwashed . But that guy acted crazy when he was supposed to be normal !” Kazuichi squawked. “Is this a ‘keep your enemies closer’ kinda thing?”

“No. No it’s not,” Hajime said. “And yeah. He was an asshole. Was . He’s trying to change.”

“Is he trying to change, or is he just trying to get in your pants?” Kazuichi crossed his arms.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Kazuichi gawked. “Wait, did you seriously not know? The guy’s obsessed with you!”

“Of course I know. He’s not exactly subtle.” Hajime did not want to talk about this. “But I’m not gonna treat him differently than the rest of you, just because he’s got some weird crush.”

Kazuichi glared at him for a second, before rolling his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. But don’t come crying to me if you find him making a doll out of your hair or something.”

Hajime twitched.

********************

Counseling session # 1: Exposure Therapy with Imposter and Teruteru 

Rationale: Teruteru avoids Imposter, no active threat of violence

Method: Leaving the two alone until dialogue is started

Hajime had decided that the best course of action was to keep Imposter and Teruteru in the dark about their upcoming meeting. Although Imposter would likely be open to discussion, Hajime feared that Teruteru would bolt. The cook had kept up the ruse of normalcy, diving into his work and consistently making his signature “comments”. But he had noticed the occasional shake of his voice and his quiet refusal to make any fried dishes.

So, when Hajime had entered his office with Imposter, he was unsurprised at Teruteru’s visible terror when he realized who their third guest was. Imposter made a side glance at Hajime, obviously questioning his choices. His attention was redirected to Nami, who was jumping excitedly on Hajime, her second-best friend.

“I told Nagito I’d watch her for a bit,” Hajime lied.

(It was Nagito’s idea, telling Hajime that animals were quite good at relieving tension and providing comfort. Nami was by no means a therapy dog, but everyone besides Ryota adored her.)

“Go ahead, take a seat,” Hajime invited, gesturing to the chair next to Teruteru. Imposter hesitantly obeyed.

Right on cue, Hajime heard a shout. “Hajime, I’m having trouble with the computer,” Nagito called from the other room. “Could you check it for me?”

“Ah, whoops.” Hajime smiled apologetically at his two classmates. “He’s really bad at technology. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Imposter nodded. Teruteru gave a subtle shake of the head that Hajime ignored.

On his way out, Hajime quietly locked the door from the outside. He wasn’t taking any chances. 

Nagito was indeed in front of a computer, but instead of showing digital nonsense, the screen was displaying a live feed of Hajime’s office, where Teruteru and Imposter sat, alone.

“I would never doubt your methods,” Nagito said. “But I think spying is a little unethical.”

“You were spying all day,” Hajime pointed out.

“Which is why I would never doubt your methods.” Nagito chirped.

Hajime figured it would take a while for the two to start talking, but the secondhand awkwardness he felt from the silence between Imposter and Teruteru was almost unbearable. 

“Maybe you should go in and prompt them to start talking?” Nagito suggested.

Hajime shook his head. “Teruteru’s problem is that he doesn’t want to face the situation head-on. I could pressure him to talk, sure, but it wouldn’t help things long-term. He needs to be able to take initiative.”

Nagito opened his mouth, but was immediately stopped by two voices buzzing out from the computer.

“Hajime seems to be taking a-”

“I’m sorry!”

Imposter and Teruteru spoke at the same time. Imposter raised his eyebrows, but once the latter started talking, it seemed like the floodgates had opened.

“I d-didn’t mean to kill you, I swear! A-and I couldn’t explain that to you in the trial, and I hated it!” Teruteru yelled.

“You didn’t mean to kill me…?” Imposter doubted. “Are you implying that you did it by accident?”

“Y-yes! I mean, no, but I wasn’t trying to hurt you !” Teruteru blubbered. “I was trying to stop Nagito!”

Hajime felt Nagito stiffen beside him. 

“When we were setting up for the party, I caught him preparing. He was taping a knife to the bottom of the table, and I asked him what he was doing, and he just… he just admitted it! He said he was going to kill someone!”

Hajime heard a small giggle. His fingers clenched around the arms of his chair.

“I knew he was going to stab someone under the table, so I got there first, under the floorboards. When I saw someone, I st-st-st-” Teruteru gasped, tears now streaming down his face. “I was aiming for Nagito. I tried to save you! B-b-but you…”

“You know, I’ve wondered about that reasoning for a while now,” Nagito mused, his voice smooth and serpentine. “Did it occur to him that killing me to save Imposter would only be a temporary grace? I doubt he would have turned himself in.” He was getting louder, shriller. Hajime squeezed his eyes shut and heard Nagito violently tug at his hair. “And everyone else would be executed in his stead, and he’d be able to go back home to his precious mother. Or what was left of her, anyway. You wouldn’t have figured it out. In the first trial, you would have been quite hopeless without m-”

Nagito stopped short. The chaos swirling in eyes slowed as he turned his gaze downward at the hand Hajime had firmly grasped.

“Nagito, I wanted you in this room for a reason,” Hajime said softly.

Nagito turned back to face Hajime, vacant and shell-shocked.

“This is… exposure for you, too,” Hajime said gently. “The simulation happened. What’s done is done, and we can’t change that. But do you know what the difference is?”

Nagito blinked.

“You’re safe. You’re not alone, because I’m on your side. I’m here, with and for you,” Hajime said. “Can you tell me what I said?”

“You’re here. You’re… here,” Nagito whispered, his voice hoarse with restrained emotion.

“Do you need to leave? I can get Nami for you,” Hajime asked.

Nagito didn’t respond, just squeezed his hand tightly and buried his face in Hajime’s shoulder. 

And he didn’t leave.

Hajime gave a small, tense smile, and turned his attention back at the computer, his friend still holding onto him for dear life.

“I pushed Nagito out of the way, and died in his place,” Imposter finished Teruteru’s sentence. “But even so, I don’t regret what I did.”

Teruteru gaped at him. “You don’t? But you died ! I killed you!”

“Do you remember what I had said when I first took charge? I told everyone that I swore I’d keep you safe. I tried, and in the end I failed, but…” Imposter gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “I did what I could. With my last breath, I saved someone. I saved Nagito.”

Hajime felt his shoulder dampen.

“Our methods were different, but that’s what you tried to do too, isn’t? You tried to save someone,” Imposter said.

“Imposter, I… I just wanted to see my m-mama,” Teruteru whispered.

Imposter nodded solemnly, and put a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder.

For a brief moment, that’s all it was. In one room, there were two boys, sitting in silence, letting themselves forgive, but not forget. And in the other room, there were two friends, accepting the past and hoping for a better future.

But then the walkie-talkies beeped.

“Ah, ah! Hajime, the- This is Ibuki speaking! The helicopter! The helicopter’s back!”

“Shit, shit!” Hajime hissed and stood up, untangling himself from Nagito, turning to his walkie-talkie.

“Hajime. Code blue, airport. Kazuichi too, bring the jammer.”

Code blue: those who can’t fight, shelter in place. Those who can, prepare and gather.

“Don’t leave this room, Nagito. I’ll tell Teruteru and Imposter to stay where they are too, and I’ll get Nami for you. Okay?” Hajime rushed.

Nagito grabbed his wrist with both hands. “Hajime. Kazuichi knows how to work the jammer.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m one of the people who can fi-”

“ Hajime, ” Nagito begged, his face desperate and red. “You said you were here. With me . Don’t. Go .”

Hajime’s eyes darted to the door. He needed to hurry . But he faced the other, gripping his arm with his free hand. “Yeah, buddy. I am. I’m here for you, and that’s why I have to do this.”

“What if you get hurt?” Nagito murmured.

“Do you want me to get hurt?” Hajime asked.

Nagito flinched. “ Of course not!”

“Good. Me neither. And do you know what we have?”

He shook his head.

Hajime grinned. “Luck.”

********************

Peko, Fuyuhiko, Akane, Nekomaru, and Kazuichi were already anxiously waiting for him when Hajime finally arrived at the airport. The helicopter was still in the distance, but it was nearing swiftly.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Fuyuhiko snapped.

“Got caught up. Sorry,” Hajime apologized hastily, before facing Kazuichi. “You brought the jammer?”

“Yeah, right here,” Kazuichi waved the remote.

“What’s the plan, captain?” Nekomaru asked, cracking his knuckles.

“We hide. When the copter gets close enough, Kaz will hijack it and bring it down. Nekomaru and Akane will grab anyone who comes out. If it gets hostile, Peko and I will take them. Fuyuhiko stays hidden and picks off anyone we miss,” Hajime ordered. “The goal is to get answers, but attack if need be. Got it?”

“Aye-aye,” Akane grinned. “They’re gonna be sorry they ever messed with us!”

The six took their stations, hiding behind equipment and vehicles on the runway. Even though silence wasn’t necessary, they were quiet; only talking in hushed voices when they needed to. 

When the helicopter was almost directly overhead, Hajime signaled for Kazuichi to start the hijack. Kazuichi gave a short nod before aiming the remote carefully at the approaching craft. Just like with the drone, he flicked a switch, pressed a button, held another, and took hold of the lever. Immediately, the helicopter stopped its advance, hanging still in the air. 

Kazuichi poked his tongue out in concentration before giving the barest of nudges on the lever. To Hajime’s relief, it looked like the mechanic had worked on the sensitivity settings; in response to the command, the vehicle moved only a few feet forward.

“Land it. Gently,” Hajime ordered. Kazuichi nodded and lightly released the thrust, bit by bit, as the helicopter made its jerky descent. 

“Get ready, and wait for my command,” he hissed. 

Deathly quiet choked the air as the pilot’s door opened slowly, slowly. Akane and Nekomaru tensed, ready to charge at the signal. A hand braced itself against the helicopter as a figure emerged.

No, not a hand.

A paw .

Monokuma.

Hajime couldn’t breathe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” Kazuichi squeaked.

“Quiet,” Peko whispered sharply. Akane and Nekomaru rocked into crouches, ready to pounce.

The Monokuma plopped out of the machine, rotating its (Its? His?) head, scanning the area. It didn’t talk; it simply waddled around, pausing occasionally to fix its attention on something before moving on.

Nekomaru snapped lightly to get Hajime’s attention. “What do we do?” He mouthed. Hajime shook his head. He had no idea.
THUNK!

A box, knocked off balance by the wind of the helicopter, teetered off the bed of a truck, spilling its contents loudly.

Right in front of where Fuyuhiko hid.

The Monokuma’s head whipped around to face the sound and toddled closer. The red of its left eye blinked once, twice, before focusing on Fuyuhiko’s arm, now barely visible from where it was positioned.

It moved closer. 

Closer.

Fuyuhiko didn’t dare move.

The eye scanned his arm.

Claws extended.

“ NO!”

Peko pounced from her cover, sword drawn to kill. The Monokuma spun around, but before it could move further, a blade thrust out from its belly.

Quiet, then…

Beep… beep… beep…

“ RUN!” Hajime screamed. Fuyuhiko grabbed Peko and yanked her with him, barely diving behind a car before the Monokuma detonated. Red and orange torched the air as the smoke billowed. After the noise died down, all that was left of the robot, and the helicopter, was a scorched piece of fabric, curling up in the flame-covered road.

“Akane, the tarp!” Nekomaru ordered. The two nabbed and threw a sheet on the wreckage, effectively snuffing out the flame.

Ringing sounded through Hajime’s ears, everyone too shocked to move except Peko, who was wiping soot from Fuyuhiko’s face and kissing his paled cheek. 

“Guys!? We heard a boom, what was that!?” A frantic voice buzzed through the walkie-talkie. Mahiru.

Nekomaru glanced at Hajime, who made no move to reply, and spoke. “Nekomaru here. We brought down the helicopter. There wasn’t anyone in it, just a Monokuma. It blew up everything.”

Silence. Hajime imagined his friends on the other side of their receivers, wildly trying to make sense of the situation.

“Is Hajime okay?” Nagito. The first time he’d used his walkie-talkie, in fact.

Hajime shook himself from the stupor and lifted the device to his mouth. “Hajime. Yep. None of us are hurt…” he looked at Peko and Fuyuhiko, who were bleeding from cuts and scrapes on their legs and arms. “...badly.”

“This is Hiyoko. What the hell are we gonna do now?”

Hajime didn’t have an answer.

********************

If Hajime thought Nagito was clingy before …

When the rest of the group gathered for more detailed explanation on the happenings of their visitor, Nagito had made a beeline toward Hajime. He grumbled about how he didn’t lose hope in him but he was still very upset, brushing dirt off his clothes and smoothing down his hair. When Hajime began to speak, he simply hung on to the hem of his shirt, scowling at the ground. He was gently pushed off, and Hajime ignored the snickers from the crowd. 

The meeting hadn’t been very productive. They got confirmation that the invasion was indeed hostile, and by the behavior of the Monokuma, it looked like it was searching for something. When it found Fuyuhiko, it prepared to attack, but whether or not it would aim to kill was undetermined. 

Their next course of action? The exact same thing, minus attacking the Monokuma. Very enlightening. 

But what else could they do? Instead of pouring over it uselessly, he decided to continue with the therapy mission

“Can you get Mahiru? I’m gonna grab Fuyuhiko and Peko. They're the next people I want to talk to,” Hajime requested. After their classmates dispersed, Nagito had taken hold of his wrist.

“Let’s just get them together,” Nagito mumbled. 

Hajime groaned internally. “Nope. Peko and Fuyuhiko will absolutely not be up for it when they realize what’s happening. They have to meet up with Mahiru last minute.” 

Nagito pressed his lips in a thin line and tightened his grip. 

“Are you afraid I’m gonna run off or something?” Hajime raised an eyebrow. 

“What if there’s another Code Blue, and I don’t see you before you go?” Nagito muttered. 

“Sure Nagito, next time we’re about to risk our lives, I’ll make sure to find you to tell you bye,” Hajime snapped. Nagito glared at his feet. Guilt immediately rushed through him. 

“Sorry, that was… I’m just stressed okay?” Hajime apologized. “Look, if there’s another Code Blue and I’m not with you, just shelter near-ish where I’ll be. Okay?”

Nagito mumbled a reluctant agreement, and released him to find Mahiru. 

********************

Counseling session # 2: Group Therapy with Mahiru, Peko, and Fuyuhiko

Rationale: Peko and Fuyuhiko hostile towards Mahiru, Mahiru willing to speak, large threat of violence 

Method: Turn-based dialogue

“What the fuck is this,” Fuyuhiko said flatly when he and Peko arrived at Hajime’s office, Mahiru already seated, biting her lip. 

“We’re going to fix things,” Hajime said simply, taking his seat beside the girl. He had arranged the chairs in a loose circle, trying to make the arrangement look less “us versus them”.

“Are you saying you’re gonna make us talk ?” Fuyuhiko scoffed. “Last time I checked, it wasn’t any of your damn business.”

“Well, you made it my business when you attacked one of my people,” Hajime shot back. “My people” sounded a bit patronizing to say, but in Fuyuhiko’s terms, that’s what they were.

“If I may,” Peko interjected. “It wasn’t Fuyuhiko who hurt Mahiru. It was me.”

“But you did it for his sake, didn’t you?” Hajime reminded her.

“Are you calling her my tool ? Again? ” Fuyuhiko snarled, approaching Hajime dangerously. “How many times do I gotta tell you people that she’s her own person?”

Hajime didn’t shrink back. “I don’t think of her that way, and neither does anyone else,” he said. “And it was the same in the simulation. She made her own, conscious decision to hurt Mahiru. You didn’t ask her to. But you still apologized. Why is that?”

Fuyuhiko glared, and Peko remained silent.

“Sit down,” Hajime suggested.

Once they begrudgingly took their seats, Hajime pulled out a stress ball (that Nagito had given him. He cheerfully said that it matched Hajime’s eyes, who responded by turning red and telling him to hush). “We’re gonna use this as a talking ball. Whoever has the ball, can speak. Whoever doesn’t have the ball, shut up. Because from what I saw back at the beach house, no one was able to get a complete thought out.”

“Are… Are you fucking serious?” Fuyuhiko deadpanned.

“Okay, Fuyuhiko. If you interrupt someone, I’ll deck you. Is that better?” Hajime glared.

“Yeah, kinda!”

Mahiru paled.

“Compromise. Whoever has the ball, speaks. Whoever interrupts, gets knocked out. Deal?”

Fuyuhiko surprisingly agreed to this. Hajime tossed the ball to Mahiru, who obediently held her hand out to him.

“All I’ve wanted to do once I woke up,” Mahiru said, “Was tell you that I… I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to apologize to someone more, in my entire life. When I talked to you at the beach house a week ago, that’s what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to yell at you. I didn’t want to get mad. I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

Fuyuhiko narrowed his eye and opened his mouth, before Hajime raised his fist. He clenched his jaw and held his hand out. Mahiru quickly threw the ball to him.

“Bullshit,” He growled. “You wanted to help out your own damn conscience. You wanna know what you could have done to apologize? Not cover up the murder of Natsumi. My sister .”

The ball was thrown at Mahiru’s raised hand much harder than necessary, but she didn’t flinch when it smacked her palm. “I was protecting my best friend. What she did was… terrible, absolutely terrible. But I loved her, Fuyuhiko. I couldn’t just give her in, even if I hated what she did.”

Fuyuhiko caught the ball. “We all know what happened in that stupid game. Sato said she did it for you!”

Hajime next. “Isn’t that what Peko did for you, though? We said she has her free will. Even though you disapproved of her actions, she… killed, because she loved you. To keep you safe by avenging Natsumi.”

Peko. “What I did was to exact revenge for a baseless murder. What Mahiru had done was assist in the murder of an innocent.”

Mahiru. “But she wasn’t innocent . Natsumi shouldn’t have died, but she hurt me, she called me useless, she tried to kick me out of the school. Sato-”

“Don’t you dare - OW, FUCK!” Fuyuhiko did not have the ball. Hajime thwacked him on the head.

“-Sato wanted the tormenting to stop,” Mahiru whispered. 

Hajime caught the ball. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you refuse to talk about reality. You keep asking Mahiru ‘why’. Let her explain.”

Fuyuhiko glared at the talk-ball as it flew back to Mahiru.

“Every day, Natsumi hurt me, and she never told me why. She hated me so much, and when Sato tried to help me, Natsumi tried to hurt her . Maybe she was worried that it would get worse, and she’d actually…” Mahiru shook her head quickly.

Fuyuhiko had the ball. “How am I supposed to believe you?” He asked. The venom was slowly draining out of his voice, leaving it weak and dull. “Natsumi didn’t have a reason. She wouldn’t .”

Hajime paused. The plan was never to interject directly, but still, he took the ball from the other boy. “...I, uh. I think I know why.”

Three faces turned towards him.

“Back at Hope’s Peak, me and Natsumi were in the same class. I wouldn’t call us ‘friends’, per se, but we did talk a couple times,” he recalled. Hajime found that his memories of the school were foggier than most. Was that due to trauma? Guilt? He didn’t know. “She was desperate to get into the main course. If there was a new vacancy in class 77, she wondered if she would be able to fill that hole.” Whether or not the girl believed her own reasoning was a different story, but… “Natsumi wanted to be an Ultimate. She wanted to be the Ultimate Little Sister for Fuyuhiko.”

The aforementioned boy lowered his gaze. He had known about the last part.

Mahiru rolled the ball around in her hands. “I didn’t know,” she murmured, before a sad little smile curled on her face. “I guess we all did what we were doing for someone else, huh?”

“...Yeah,” Fuyuhiko whispered.

********************

The session wasn’t a success, but Hajime wouldn’t call it a failure, either. There were no forgiven apologies, no genuine smiles. But the hostility had left. Maybe Fuyuhiko and Mahiru would never be close, and maybe they would always avoid each other. Or maybe they, too, would find that mutual respect and be able to move on. For now, though, it was no longer in Hajime’s power. And he had to be okay with that.

“You know, I forgot that you and Natsumi actually knew each other,” Fuyuhiko mused. He had lingered behind, waiting for Mahiru and Peko to exit before speaking to Hajime directly.

“Yeah. I mean, we weren’t close, at all, and I could never get a good read on her, but…” Hajime leaned against the wall. “What I could tell, though, was how proud of you she was.”

Fuyuhiko let out a humorless laugh. “And look how well that turned out.” He shook his head. “You know, Hope’s Peak really was fucked, wasn’t it? Even before Junko got to us, they treated the Reserve Course kids like shit.”

Hajime nodded. They really, really did.

“It’s not like you guys were useless . Natsumi was an amazing photographer. And she really was the best sister a guy could have. Why couldn’t she be Ultimate?” Fuyuhiko glared. “And you… Well, I mean, I dunno what you would be, but you’re a good guy. A good leader. And Professor Yukizome loved you. I bet she would have nabbed you if she could.”

“She was… really kind,” Hajime said quietly. What happened to her was beyond unfair. It was monstrous .

“Okay, well, maybe she wouldn’t have liked how you shot one of her students, but who knows,” Fuyuhiko snorted.

“Sure, but-” Hajime stopped. “Wait, I what !?”

“Or, Izuru, I mean.” When Hajime showed no hint of recollection, Fuyuhiko looked at him incredulously. “What? You seriously didn’t know? I figured Nagito would have given you absolute shit about that.”

“It was Nagito!? ” Hajime slapped his hand over his face. Of course it was. “How is he alright!?”

“Um. Well from what I heard, the lucky bastard just got hit in the handbook. I mean, it was enough to make him pass out. Chiaki had to basically carry him back.”

“Wha- Why wouldn’t he tell me!?” Hajime gaped.

Fuyuhiko. “I dunno. Maybe he’s pissed about it.”

Hajime severely doubted it. Him being Reserve Course had made Nagito angry. Him putting himself in danger made Nagito angry. But somehow, he knew that Nagito wouldn’t give a shit about attempted murder.

“Sorry, I need to find him. Right now,” Hajime made his way to the door.

“I think I saw him sitting near the cottages,” Fuyuhiko supplied. He paused. “Why do you even give a shit, though? The guy’s a fucking nutcase.”

But Hajime was already out the door.

********************

Nagito was indeed near the cottages, feet bare and swirling around the water, tinted purple by the sky.

The red, red sky.

He’d been told to not listen in on this therapy session, but Hajime figured he obviously didn’t want to stray too far.

“Hajime,” He greeted when the boy got close enough, but instead of replying, Hajime just grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Holy shit Nagito, I’m so sorry,” Hajime burst out.

Nagito cocked his head. “I can’t imagine Hajime would ever need to apologize to someone like me. But what do you think you need to say sorry for?”

Hajime shook his head and ignored the question. “Jesus, you probably thought I just decided to leave it alone and pretend like everything’s okay. I swear, I didn’t know about it!”

“What didn’t you know?”

“I mean, I knew that you got really weird when it came to Izuru, because you acted all bitter about calling me the ‘Ultimate Whatever-the-fuck’, but I thought that was just, like, you being you.”

Nagito’s hand shot out and clenched Hajime’s wrist harshly, shutting the boy up.

“Clarify,” Nagito whispered.

“Izuru shot you, right? Fuyuhiko told me.” Hajime clarified, confused at the reaction. Maybe Nagito forgot…?

“I was aiming for Junko. Before I could pull the trigger, Izuru came up behind me. I tried to shoot him, but his luck jammed the gun. He took the gun and shot me, but my luck had my handbook block it. The force was enough to knock me unconscious,” Nagito rushed out, seemingly to hurry the conversation along. So he definitely did remember. “What else did he tell you?”

Hajime frowned. “What else…? That was all he said. I mean, he didn’t go into that much detail, but. Why? Is there more?”

Nagito didn’t answer, his eyes wide, his lip bloody from being violently chewed.

“There was more, wasn’t there?” Hajime guessed. 

Nagito kept chewing.

Hajime took his shoulders and turned the other to face him, guilt crawling up his stomach. It couldn’t have been good. “Nagito, I… You know I would never hurt you. You know I would never do to you what Izuru must have.”

At this, Nagito let out a bark of a laugh before jerking away from Hajime’s grasp. “Hajime! I know more than anyone that you wouldn’t dare do to me what Mr. Kamukura had!” Mr. Kamukura…?  “But no, he didn’t try to hurt me again.”

“Then… then how did you know him?” Hajime demanded. He could tell by the madness in his eyes, the way he held his arms, scratching furiously at some imaginary itch, that Nagito was spiraling. But he needed to know.

And then Nagito stopped, his face setting resolutely into a twisted grin. “Mr. Kamukura and I… we were quite close, actually.”

“What?” Hajime blinked, then snorted. “Okay Nagito, not to be rude, but I don’t think ‘friend’ is a term Izuru really-”

Realization struck him.

“You really don’t remember anything during the Tragedy, do you?” Nagito asked, his voice taking an odd tone Hajime wasn’t quite sure he’d heard the boy speak with before.

“Anything as Izuru? No. No memories, no nothing. Just...feelings. Or whatever those were for him.”

“Feelings, huh?”

Oh.

Oh God.

Nagito cracked up at the horror on Hajime’s face.

“You’re laughing? This is a joke then, right? You’re joking?” Hajime demanded desperately. Please-

“Oh Hajime, I would never lie about Mr. Kamukura!” Nagito cackled, tears running down his cheeks.

Hajime snapped a hand to his own mouth, bile rising.

“I do pity you!” Nagito choked out between those terrible laughs. “Mr. Kamukura using your hands to touch a filthy, disgusting creature like me!”

Hajime stumbled to his feet.

“I’m quite good at arm amputation, if you’d like to rid yourself of the evidence!” Nagito howled at his own joke.

Hajime bolted.

No.

No.

Nonononononono-

Izuru had used his body as his own. Hajime knew that. He’d never be okay with it, but he had come to terms with it.

But Izuru had taken over him. Completely.

It wasn’t enough to steal Hajime’s body.

Izuru had stolen Hajime’s body, and given it to someone else.

Chapter Text

Nagito was avoiding Hajime.

But that was alright, since Hajime was avoiding Nagito as well.

Once Hajime had made it back to his cottage after the confrontation, he vomited. He took a boiling shower. He sat on the floor for an hour, shivering in his towel. He got dressed. He lay on his bed. He watched the sun set and the moon rise and the sun come out again. He watched Nagito’s light blink on through his window. He watched it stay on through the entire night.

Hajime didn’t want to think; he didn’t want to feel phantom fingers on his skin. But every time he closed his eyes, his mind couldn’t stop trying to fill in the blanks of his memory. What else had he done? How far did it go? Was it just Nagito?

Not that he blamed Nagito, of course. How could he have known? Hajime doubted Izuru shared much about his origins, how somewhere in his mind, there was someone else. An unwilling participant. 

But when Hajime’s mind wandered to Nagito, all he could think about was violation. 

So Hajime stayed in his cottage, and avoided Nagito. 

And Nagito stayed in his cottage, and avoided Hajime. 

********************

On the second day, the first thing Hajime had noticed when he woke up from a fretful sleep, was the gnawing in his stomach. When he had played hermit for 24 hours, he hadn’t left his cottage to eat, only snacking on energy bars he had stored in his room. Though it wasn’t like food had seemed particularly appealing; he could barely choke it down.

He groaned. His supply was out; he’d need to leave to go to the restaurant to prevent himself from wasting away. Hopefully, everyone would still be asleep, considering it was 6 AM on a weekend, but the idea still cemented him in place. As he considered the quickest and most antisocial route to take, he frowned. Something in the house was wrong. Were the lights brighter? Was it later than he thought? Did Ibuki somehow sneak in when he was sleeping to paint the walls? 

But then his eyes drifted to the window.

Was… was that…?

He launched out of bed and out the door, still in his pajamas.

It was.

The sky was blue.

Not red. Not bloodstained. Not covered in smog.

Just blue, blue sky.

Hajime nabbed his walkie-talkie as fast as he could; he didn’t want to tear his eyes away.

“This is Hajime. The sky… The sky is blue! ”

“Peko, code blue confirmed. Where do we gather?” The walkie-talkie crackled immediately.

“Not code blue. The sky is blue.”

Three years ago, the statement would have sounded silly. What else would it be? It seemed cruelly ironic, how much they’d taken a simple, obvious thing for granted.

But still, cottage doors slammed open as the 77th class shook themselves from sleep and rushed to the sight.

“Oh… oh my…” Teruteru murmured, holding his nightcap to his heart.

“A-a-am I-I d-d-dreaming…?” Mikan squeaked.

“Wha-wha-what!? Ibuki’s in Mikan’s dream!?” Ibuki screeched.

“How did this happen?” Sonia asked, her hands gently wrapped around Gundham’s arm.

“It appears our trial is over. The gods have pulled us back up from the bowels of hell, to let us walk among mortals once again,” Gundham said. Sonia kissed his cheek.

“Yo, is that true? Are we really done with everything?” Akane asked, jogging over from her morning run to join the others. “Also, Haji, why’d you even call us to say that in the first place? Once they woke up, they woulda seen the sky anyway.”

Hajime shook his head slowly. “No. No, it’s not over. I just… It’s…”

And in the corner of his eye, Hajime saw one more door open. A dog bounded out, and a figure quietly followed, his head tilted upwards.

“It’s beautiful…” Nagito whispered.

His voice made Hajime’s stomach clench. 

“Mr. Kamukura and I… we were quite close, actually.”

But Hajime turned to him anyway, and Nagito met his gaze, his eyes puffy and rimmed with red. How long had they been like that?

“Yeah,” Hajime said, hoarse with sleep and emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

The two looked away, and they didn’t speak again.

********************

“Makoto, holy shit, did you guys do this!?”

No one had wanted to look away from the sky, almost as if they were afraid it would revert back to its toxic hue when their backs were turned. However, once the initial shock had worn off, questions multiplied in its place. How did it happen? Why did it happen? What does it mean? And Hajime, being the ‘leader’, had to go back inside and find out the answers for them.

“You’re talking about the sky, right? Yeah!” The other responded, matching Hajime’s excitement. “I mean, not me personally , but the foundation’s been working with Toko and Komaru back at Towa City. We got engineers to replicate the air purifier and alter them to make their reach larger. I can’t believe it’s managed to get to Jabberwock!”

“Yeah, it…” Hajime shook his head, a grin splitting his face. “It’s a sight for sore eyes, man. I can’t thank you guys enough. We really needed this.”

Makoto frowned on the screen. “That’s right. Have any more helicopters come since the, um. The Monokuma?” That stupid bear was traumatizing for the both of them.

“No, thank God.” Hajime gritted his teeth. “Maybe next time we’ll, I dunno, throw it into the ocean or something.”

“Uh. Make sure to not do that to the supply drop helicopter,” Makoto laughed nervously. 

That’s right, the next inventory refill was coming soon. Suddenly, an idea dawned on Hajime.

“Hey, why don’t you guys tag along, pay us a visit? The island’s a lot nicer-looking when the sky doesn’t look like literal hell. And you guys can just check up on everything, make sure things are going okay. We’d all love having you guys, it gets pretty dull seeing the same people every day,” Hajime suggested. And I need a goddamn distraction .

Makoto cocked his head in thought. “That sounds nice, but there’s a lot of us at the foundation. Won’t it get crowded? Plus, we’re gonna need people there to keep things running.”

“Then what if it’s only some of you? You, Kyoko, Byakuya, Hina, Hiro, Toko maybe, if you can get her.” Hajime said. It’d probably be a lot more comfortable if it was just people their same age, too, instead of just a bunch of stuffy middle-aged workers, eyeing everything to make sure it’s up to their standards.

“Like a Hope’s Peak reunion!” Makoto clapped his hands. 

“So, you up for it?” Hajime asked.

“Yeah! Or, I’ll run it by the others,” Makoto amended. “But I think we could make it work!”

After discussing details and coming up with hesitant schedules, the two boys hung up, and Hajime was once again alone in the office.

He smiled. After all the shit the two had been through, Hajime and Makoto had formed a solid friendship. Not only did they both save the other’s ass multiple times, but their personalities were quite similar. Hajime wasn’t quite as familiar with the others, but he did want to get to know them better. Kyoko seemed cold, but Makoto sang praises about his girlfriend every chance he could. Hina was bubbly and goodhearted, and Hiro was an odd guy, but well-intentioned. Byakuya was a difficult read, but if Imposter’s impression of him was accurate (which it probably was, considering his ability), then he was a bit of an asshole, but probably kind in there somewhere. Maybe? As for Toko, Hajime never got the chance to meet her, but according to Nagito-

Hajime winced.

Dammit .

Even with that one, brief thought of the boy, the floodgate of thoughts he’d very momentarily held back, opened right back up. 

“Oh Hajime, I would never lie about Mr. Kamukura!”

How many times?

“I do pity you! Mr. Kamukura using your hands to touch a filthy, disgusting creature like me!”

Where?

“I’m quite good at arm amputation, if you’d like to rid yourself of the evidence!”

How far?

He shook his head roughly, trying to knock the mental images out of his brain. It didn’t work.

He needed a distraction. Now.

********************

Counseling session # 3: Intervention with Nekomaru, Gundham, Akane, and Sonia

Rationale: Nekomaru and Gundham have made three attempts to have a rematch, Akane encourages, Sonia opposes, VERY LARGE threat of controlled (???) violence

Method: Using support of loved ones to promote self-preservation

“So, it looks like your last attempt at a rematch was… yesterday,” Hajime recalled. “That sound right?”

Nekomaru and Gundham let out hearty agreements.

Yet again, Hajime had turned his workroom into a therapist’s office, the five of them arranged in a circle. He did feel bad for Sonia, the only person who was in favor of the meeting and against the idea of another fight to the death. Luckily, the two men hadn’t gotten very far yet, but it was only a matter of time before neither Sonia nor Hajime was there to stop them.

“Alright, then,” Hajime started, leaning back into his chair. “Walk me through what would have happened.”

Immediately they stood up. “HELL YEAH! I was waitin’ for you to say something!” Nekomaru bellowed, cracking his knuckles. 

“Woo! Get ‘im, babe!” Akane cheered.

“Wait! Wait. Walk me through it verbally ! With words! ” Hajime shouted, jumping between them.

They looked disappointed. “Empty threats breed foul energy, ripe enough to deteriorate one into ash,” Gundham spat. “Are you prepared to face the brunt of the demons’ wrath in my stead?”

“Nope, nope, they’re not empty threats,” Hajime stopped him. It’s not like he believed whatever Gundham was spouting. Maybe. “I just want to see what you guys think would happen. Like roleplay, or whatever.”

Akane snorted at his word choice. Hajime fervently ignored her.

“Like a strategy meeting, huh?” Nekomaru mused, picking at his ear.

“Sure, yeah.”

“In that case…” Gundham muttered, before thrusting out his chest in an act of bravado. “As is custom for the superior foe, I stand back, and let the weaker being cast the first attack!”

(Hajime was pretty sure Gundham attacked first in the simulation, but he decided not to mention it.)

“I throw the first punch, as is custom for the BETTER FIGHTER!” Nekomaru guffawed.

“So be it! I materialize away from your puny physical assault, before calling upon Nemesis, the feared goddess of revenge, to lend me her power of ethereal black magic!” Gundham boomed. Sonia gasped.

“HA! That hocus pocus SHIT does NOTHING, and I yank you into a headlock before pummeling you to the ground!”

“You fool! You coward!” Gundham cackled, throwing his hand into the air. “Mere skin contact with a higher being, such as myself, renders you immobile!”

“Never! You can’t freeze me! I’m not a robot anymore, Gundham! There’s no button!” Nekomaru jeered.

“Fuck yeah!” Akane whooped.

“There’s no button,” Gundham gasped.

“There’s no button!” Sonia cried.

“But. BUT!” Nekomaru growled, clenching his fist. “As I’m about to land the final blow, I trip over one of your hamsters! I fall!”

“YES!” Gundham yelled. “The Four Dark Devas of Destruction! They will forever come to their master’s aid! As you writhe on the ground like a raccoon in heat, they rip at your flesh and bone! Agony!”

(Hajime was definitely sure that hamsters were herbivores. He decided, again, not to mention it.)

“But I grab one of the hamsters, and I THROW IT OUT TO SEA!” Nekomaru yelled. 

 Gundham dropped to the floor in grief. “NO! JUM-P!” Hajime heard the squeak of the wronged hamster come from the breeder’s pocket. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Gundham, love!” Sonia rubbed his back. “I am sure one of the infamous Dark Devas can swim!”

Gundham nodded mournfully, but Nekomaru wasn’t done. “And then, as a show of ironic justice, I take a rock and…” he hammered his fist into his other hand. “BAM! I land the final blow!”

Sonia gasped. Akane cheered. 

Gundham bowed his head. “It seems… I have been bested, this time.” 

Hajime raised his eyebrows. Was just talking the fight through cathartic enough for them? This would be easier than he-

“However, I see that you have misjudged the sheer force of my sorcery! We must bring our words to reality to truly exploit this power!” Gundham leaped to his feet. 

“SHIT YEAH!” Nekomaru boomed. 

“No no no!” Hajime interjected. So much for that. “You’re not done!”

Gundham threw an eyebrow up. “Did you mishear? I have been defeated in battle. Hell will have claimed my soul once more.”

(Hajime distinctly remembered Gundham being carried up to heaven by baby animals during his execution. He decided that mentioning this would result in certain death.)

“Sure. But now you’ve been buried-“

Gundham shook his head. 

“Cremated?”

Gundham nodded. 

“Now you’ve been cremated. Sonia?”

The princess startled at her name. 

“Sonia, how do you feel, now that Gundham has died?” Hajime asked. 

“I…” Sonia looked at her lap. “...I’m heartbroken. Grieving. Like how I felt in the simulation, but so much worse. Because… it is real.” 

“Nekomaru, you approach Sonia after the funeral-“

“Scattering of my ashes into the Black Sea,” Gundham interrupted. 

“You approach Sonia after we scatter Gundham’s ashes into the Black Sea. What do you say to her?” Hajime asked the larger man. 

Nekomaru scratched his head. “Uh. I’d tell her that he was a worthy adversary!”

“He was your adversary, but he was my lover! I do not see this as retribution or a sign of honor. All I see is the gaping hole in my heart,” Sonia cried out. Hajime thought he saw real tears forming in her blue eyes. 

“I…” Nekomaru furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

“I do not accept,” she replied. 

When it was apparent that no other words would be exchanged, Hajime turned to Gundham. 

“Now let’s say, uh… Nemesis’s power was greater than usual, and you won instead,” Hajime said, pulling words out of his ass. 

Gundham chuckled. “You speak nonsense, mortal, but your message is clear. Continue.”

“...yeah. Akane, what do you say to Gundham, now that he’s beaten Nekomaru? Again?” Hajime figured the last word was a bit harsh, but maybe that’s what they needed. 

“Um… you know, I’d say what Nekomaru said.” Akane looked uncomfortable. “That you were, uh, a worthy adversary. Or something.”

“Alright.” Hajime nodded. “Now shake his hand.”

Akane narrowed her eyes. “You want me to what?” 

“Go on, shake his hand,” Hajime prodded. “Tell him how good of a fighter he is.”

“I…” Akane glared. “Why the fuck would I do that?! He just killed my-“

Hajime gave her a knowing look.

She huffed. 

“I know you guys want to even it out, or balance things, or whatever you’ve been saying,” Hajime said. “But think about who you’d leave behind. It’s not noble. It’s not honorable. Not when you leave the ones you love like this.” He gestures to Sonia and Akane. 

“But aren’t you supposed to support the dude you like no matter what, even if it’s fucking stupid? Ain’t that what love is?” Akane wrinkled her nose. 

“Maybe sometimes. I think?” Hajime thought. “But more than that, it’s knowing the other person enough to realize when what they’re doing is harmful. You know when to stop them, or give them advice, or just be there for them. And letting them know that. And I guess helping them… get over the past, I guess?”

The words weren’t spoken very eloquently, but still, Sonia took Gundham’s hand. “I love you, but I need you to know. There is no score to settle. Can we not just be happy? Can you not be happy with me?”

Gundham cupped her cheek fondly. “Oh, my Dark Queen. My poisoned soul had been healed by your presence ever since you floated into my immortal life.”

“I love you, babe. Don’t be a dumbass,” Akane scolded. Nekomaru laughed and ruffled her hair. 

Hajime breathed a sigh of relief.

*********************

“Hajime, thank you very much for your help,” Sonia bowed her head. “Your words were very beautiful.”

Sonia had stopped him on his way back to his cottage. 

“Really? Thanks,” Hajime said. “I guess the Ultimate Marriage Counselor is in me somewhere, huh?”

“Hmm.” Sonia looked doubtful. “I am not quite sure that’s it. It seemed more genuine than that.”

“Nah. I mean I’ve never, um. Felt like that. For someone. Not like you and Gundham, I mean.” Hajime didn’t know why he suddenly felt embarrassed. 

“Maybe you have never loved, but you have been loved,” Sonia said gently. 

Ah. 

Hajime narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me, Nevermind?”

“Oh, am I correct?” Sonia laughed, then sobered again. “I am not sure what happened, nor am I going to pry, but… you were in your cottage all day yesterday, were you not? And Nagito-“

Hajime grimaced. 

“Nagito was, too. Though, today, I found him on the beach. He was not doing anything, just staring ahead. When I came back an hour later, he was still there.”

Hajime avoided eye contact. 

“I asked him if he was alright. But all he said was-“

“‘A woman as great as yourself shouldn’t be bothered with trash like me’?” Hajime mimicked dryly. 

“Almost word for word.”

“Why did you bother? Don’t you all hate him?” Hajime muttered bitterly. 

Sonia frowned. “Of course not. And no one else does either. In fact, Gundham says that Nami thinks he is a very honorable friend.” Sonia paused, then spoke again. “I think… I think people are just nervous about what they do not know.”

“He’s not gonna try anything. He’s getting better about that,” Hajime defended him automatically. 

“You’re a very good influence on him,” Sonia laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Hajime sighed and sunk his face into his hand. 

“I should talk to him, huh?”

********************

Sonia was right. Nagito was on the beach. Sitting in the sand, staring at nothing, statue-still. Nami was prancing around and chasing the waves, but the boy paid her no mind. 

Hajime gritted his teeth. He needed to do this. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be, right?

Nagito didn’t turn around as Hajime approached him. 

“Hajime,” he greeted. His voice sounded gravelly. 

Hajime quietly sat beside him, a good amount of space between them. It took a while for him to find his voice. 

“I want to make things clear.”

Nagito scrunched his eyes shut. “Hajime, I can’t hear this-“

“It’s not because it was you.”

Nagito stopped. 

Hajime kept his gaze on the sand, fingers scratching his leg absently. “It could have been a girl. It could have been another guy. It could have been, I dunno, someone I’ve been into for years, or someone who I’ve never met. It’s just…” he crossed his arms over himself. “It’s just that I was used.”

Nagito didn’t speak. He continued. 

“It’s like… getting super drunk and blacking out. And when you wake up, there’s someone else in your bed, and you don’t remember what happened, but you know that whatever happened, wouldn’t be something you’d say ‘yes’ to if you were in your right mind.”

White marks started to appear on his leg, but he kept scratching. 

“But it sounded like you said yes. The word ‘yes’ came out of your mouth, but it wasn’t you talking, right?”

Scratch, scratch, scratch. 

“But you still wonder in the back of your mind, ‘Is it my fault? I agreed to drink’.” 

Scratch, scratch. Blood started to bead. 

“I said I would do that procedure, I know, they told me my personality would be different, but-“ Hajime couldn’t breathe. His fingernails were staining red. “-but I swear to God, Nagito, I didn’t know I’d be gone . I didn’t know I’d disappear. And if you meant what I think you did, then that would have been my first time, and fuck, maybe it’s prude, but that’s not how I wanted it to go-“

“Hajime.”

Hajime choked to a stop. Nagito had grasped his sleeve and pulled his hand from his bloodied leg. He was very carefully avoiding skin contact, but the gesture was familiar and obvious. 

“You’re spiraling. Stay in the present. Stay with me.”

Tears blurred his vision, turning the boy in front of him into a watercolor painting. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Nagito whispered brokenly. 

Hajime wiped his face messily. “Why? You didn’t know I was in there. Izuru was just some weird guy to you.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded dead.

“Then I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have said so sooner,” Nagito amended. 

“Yeah,” Hajime said. “Yeah, you should have.”

Nagito looked down, releasing his sleeve.

“So tell me now.”

Nagito looked back sharply. “Hajime, are you sure you’re ready to talk about it quite yet?”

“I want to get it out of the way. Just… censor yourself? Please?” Hajime begged. 

A faint blush crossed Nagito’s face at the request, but he nodded, and began. 

“We had met again, maybe… four months after the Tragedy? It was very soon after my involvement with the Warriors of Hope in Towa City. Monaca Towa had only been in my care for about a day before she ran away.”

Hajime knew about that. The idea was funny at the time, Nagito being a slave to a bunch of kids. And then losing his babysitting gig in less than 24 hours because the girl had gotten sick of his ramblings

“I was like a stray dog, Hajime. I didn’t know what to do with myself when no one was there to use me.” Nagito closed his eyes. “How truly lucky I was, that Mr. Kamukura was the one to find me.”

“Lucky?” Hajime wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t he shoot you?”

“It was quite seductive, actually,” Nagito mused. 

His gut twisted. “‘Course it was,” he grumbled. 

“I pledged my devotion, and he allowed me to follow him,” Nagito continued. “We left Towa City, and just… traveled. We saw the wreckage of other towns, we created more wreckage ourselves. We had to scavenge for food and shelter like animals, but…” Nagito sighed happily. “Mr. Kamukura was somehow above it all. Beautiful.”

“Was that all you did? Walk around?” Hajime asked. “Didn’t that get boring? Literally all I hear about Izuru is how easily he got bored.” 

“Oh, yes. The whole ordeal was dull to him, and he could never stay in one place for too long,” Nagito commented. “But I’d like to think that I provided him with enough entertainment when he tested my luck.”

Hajime’s blood went cold. “He… what?”

“At times, when things became too consistent, he would see how my fortune fared in adversity,” he reminisced, smiling serenely. “He would leave me alone in the middle of an ambush, or he would tell me to provoke a dangerous stranger, or he would encourage me to eat poison. Things like that.”

“Nagito, that’s…” Hajime gawked. “...That’s so fucked.”

Nagito turned to him quickly. “Oh, no! I’d never been happier. For the earliest test, he’d stranded me, alone, in Towa City, still swarming with Monokumas.” He curled in on himself, grinning dreamily. “But I passed. I found him again. And that was the first time we-”

“Nagito,” Hajime warned.

“-kissed. And I suppose it was satisfactory, because that night was the first time we-”

“ Censor , Nagito!” Hajime sputtered.

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” Nagito apologized quickly, turning pink.

Hajime drew his fingers through the sand as he willed the heat in his face away. “That sounds terrible. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

Nagito hummed. “It was cruel, yes. But I worshipped him all the same.”

“I mean. I guess that explains why you. You know…” Hajime shifted uncomfortably. “...Like me. Or whatever.”

“Oh. Oh, Hajime…” A hand was placed lightly on Hajime’s cheek, gently turning his face towards the other. Red-rimmed lids made the seafoam green of his eyes look even more vibrant, almost ethereal. The tenderness of his gaze made Hajime’s heart give a painful, confused thump. “I loved you long before I remembered who you used to be.”

Hajime’s mouth dried up. “Uh,” He croaked.

Nagito seemed to realize what he’d done, and jerked his hand away like his face was wildfire. “Forget that,” he mumbled. 

Many bouts of silence had transpired between the both of them, during their brief friendship. Neither were particularly good at small talk, and there seemed to be a mutual comfort of being in each other’s presence, uninterrupted by words.

But this silence, it was awkward. It was painfully awkward. And Hajime was surprised at how much he despised that.

“Hey, can we just go back to the way things were?” He blurted. 

“How… it was?” Nagito questioned.

“I just… I miss being friends. It’s weird, but. I dunno,” Hajime finished lamely.

Nagito was quiet. Some unreadable storm raged in his eyes, but Hajime was at a loss at what it could possibly mean.

“...Friends,” he finally repeated.

Unease rumbled in his stomach, but Hajime forced it down and held his hand out to the other. The gesture was reciprocated; a quick up-down shake.

Nagito let go first.

********************

“Everything going okay?”

Nagito glanced up when Hajime poked his head in. He had been relocated to the room directly across the office, which was currently being prepped for the next “appointment”. It was much harder gathering the patients when he was doing it by himself, but Hajime eventually convinced Mikan to wait for Hiyoko. Still, he was afraid that if he took too long, the poor girl would make a break for it.

“Yes, thank you,” Nagito replied simply.

“Think you’ll be good to go by this evening?” Hajime asked.

“Yes.”

Silence.

“If you need help, or ideas, then I’ll, uh…” Hajime awkwardly pointed to the office.

“I won’t bother you,” Nagito said looking back at his papers.

“Okay. Then, um. Good luck.” Hajime cleared his throat.

“You too.” Nagito smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

********************

Counseling session # 4: Conflict resolution with Mikan and Hiyoko

Rationale: Mikan avoids Hiyoko, Hiyoko hostile with Mikan, small threat of violence

Method: Guided conversation with Hajime

Hiyoko hadn’t known about the counseling session beforehand, but good god she was a pain to retrieve. She complained, accused Hajime of coming onto her, cursed, stepped on his feet, the works. But the worst tantrum occurred when they arrived at the office, already occupied by the meek nurse. 

Hiyoko gagged and made a break for the door, but Hajime braced himself against it, preventing escape. “Nope,” He said. “Sit down.”

“I’d rather die ,” Hiyoko scowled, but under Hajime’s stern glare, she took a seat, sliding it as far from Mikan as she could. Mikan covered her face in her hands and mumbled apologies.

“So,” Hajime said, settling into the third chair. “I want to know why you think you’re here.”

“Psh! I don’t know! I wanna know why he’s here!” Hiyoko cut in.

“He…? Oh.” On the way in, he and Hiyoko had passed Nagito, still settled in the room across. He waved at her. She just stared. “He works here. And he’s, uh… He’s waiting for Nami. Who he’s letting us borrow, by the way.”

The dog in question was currently sniffing Mikan’s knee, who had yet to contribute to the conversation.

“Bullshit!” Hiyoko spat. “He’s just trying to listen in so he’s got material for his gross gay thoughts!”

Hajime cringed. Was the room soundproof? Why didn’t he check? “Hiyoko, you’re literally dating a girl.”

Hiyoko stuck her tongue out. “Yeah, but we’re cute.”

“Stop trying to change the topic. I wanted to talk about-”

“Well, I wanted to talk about how psychoface steals your shirts to use as towels! Or something!”

“Hiyoko!” Hajime snapped. “I swear to God, if you don’t get back on track right now, I’m going to stop the foundation from sending sweets so you’ll have to eat salads for the rest of your life.”

The girl sunk down and glowered, and Hajime shook himself to focus.

“Hey, Mikan?” Hajime turned to the gentler girl, who jumped at her name. “Do you have an idea of why I wanted you and Hiyoko here?”

Mikan bit her lip and nodded. “I-I-I th-think it-”

“It’s because that pig-bitch killed me!” Hiyoko interrupted furiously.

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

Mikan flinched. “I-”

“And you didn’t even have to! You just wanted to get Ibuki!” Hiyoko shrieked.

“P-p-please, I-”

“They said it was because I was there, right!? But you didn’t even hesitate! You murderous fugly slut, you didn’t even try to tell me to keep quiet, or anything!” Hiyoko leaped up, her eyes shining with impending tears.

“Y-you-”

“And it hurt . The knife hurt. And you wanted it to! You were laughing, you shitface, you enjoyed it!”

“The d-d-disease-”

“Why, Mikan!?” Hiyoko sobbed. “Why me-”

“ BECAUSE YOU WERE MEAN!”

Hiyoko’s jaw snapped shut, the room in shocked silence at Mikan’s outburst.

“Y-y-you were always so mean t-t-to me! Y-you called me p-pi-pig barf, and you p-put crabs in my b-b-bed, and y-you just t-tormented over and o-over, and…!” Mikan gasped for breath. “When I s-saw you, in the back of my mind, I th-though about just th-threatening you, but I r-remembered how…”

And Mikan’s voice dissolved into anguish, tears rolling through her fingers even harder than they had during her panic attack.

“What did I ever do to you?” Mikan choked out.

Hiyoko sunk back down, her mouth open in a noiseless sob.

Hajime wasn’t sure if Hiyoko had realized it before, or if it came to her now, as a revelation in grief. She shook her head mechanically, and spoke.

“I did it because… you’re me. ”

Mikan lifted her head to look at the girl.

“Or, what I could have been, I guess,” Hiyoko sniffled and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Kids used to be so, so mean to me. Not ‘cause of anything I did, just because of who my family was. They yelled at me, laughed at me, put pins in my shoes. Like you, you know?”

“I-I… yes…” Mikan murmured.

“I thought about just giving up and being all weak and stuff. But I thought… I thought if I became like them , they wouldn’t hurt me anymore. I lied about other girls to make them forget all about being jerks to me, and then I was laughing along with them.” Hiyoko pushed her dampened face into her hands. “You think I don’t know how bitchy I am? By the time I realized it, it was too late to do anything about it.”

“Why?” Hajime asked. “Why is it too late to change?”

She glanced up at him. “Because whenever I look at someone, my mind just goes, ‘look how ugly she is.’ ‘They’re so dumb.’ ‘He doesn’t even know how fat his face looks when he wears that stupid tie.’”

Hajime restrained himself from commenting on that last one. “If you keep expecting to get better overnight, you’re always going to let yourself down. It doesn’t work that way, especially if your mindset’s already been established for a long, long time,” he said. “Work towards the small victories. When you hold your tongue, be proud. When you compliment someone, be proud. When a mean thought never comes, be fucking proud.”

Hiyoko fiddled with her sash, before facing Mikan. “I… I don’t expect you to forgive me. Like, ever, but… I was really bad to you. I’m sorry. I just… want to be better.”

“I-I’m not sure I c-can accept it j-just now, but… I-I’m sure o-one day I w-will,” Mikan murmured. “A-and… I’m s-so sorry… for h-h-hurting you.”

Hiyoko gave her a small smile. Hajime wondered if it was the first time she ever did that for Mikan. 

“I forgive you, Mikan.”

********************

Mikan and Hiyoko were still talking when Hajime stepped out, deeming it safe enough to do so.

“Nagito, I’m-” He stopped. Nagito wasn’t in the room where he had left him. Surely he still had work to do?

A dreadful idea dawned.

He stepped inside experimentally, and his fears were confirmed. From where he was standing, he could still hear the two girls in the office. Hajime winced.

He had a feeling he knew what Nagito had heard to make him leave.

********************

Hajime and Nagito were standing outside of the restaurant where the rest of the class was eating. Dinner had been prepared late; the sun had already set, making it hard for Hajime to see his friend’s face. 

“Are you ready? Nervous?” Hajime asked, peering through the window to spot a good place to set the stage. 

“No, I’m not nervous,” Nagito replied. “You seem to be, though.”

“Me? No,” Hajime lied. He absolutely was. “Did you bring something to read off of, or…?”

Nagito shook his head. “I figured it would be more effective if I spoke without a script.”

This was not at all reassuring, but Hajime pushed it down. “Alright, let’s go.”

He patted Nagito’s back in the direction of the door and tried not to notice how he subtly moved away from the touch. 

No one noticed the two boys enter the room, but they certainly noticed when Hajime helped Nagito step up onto one of the chairs. 

“Hey, guys?” Hajime called. It wasn’t necessary, most of them were already looking. “Nagito wants to talk to everyone.”

Counseling session # 5: Public apology with Nagito and everyone

Rationale: Everyone avoids Nagito, ??? threat of violence 

Method: Speaking from the heart (apparently)

“Hello,” Nagito chirped. “I’m very sorry for what I did in the simulation. Any questions?”

Hajime blinked. 

“Are you serious?!” Hajime hissed. “That’s all?!”

Nagito ignored him. 

“Uh, yeah,” Fuyuhiko said. “Why the fuck do you think we’ll buy that half-assed apology?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll buy it,” Nagito explained. “However, I’d like to think that it would be easier to prove with future actions rather than words.”

“What kind of actions?” Imposter asked. 

“Well, I haven’t attempted to hurt anyone yet!” He replied brightly.

“That’s a lie!” Teruteru accused. “You tried to stab me a week ago! With a skewer!”

“I did not.” Nagito frowned. 

“You told me I deserved to die, and I got blood all over my most attractive uniform!” He squawked. “Hajime, you were there, you saw!”

“No, no. Nagito didn’t hurt you,” Hajime interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He said fucked up shit, and you fell over and nicked yourself.”

“Are you saying it’s okay for him to say stuff like that?” Mahiru asked, incredulous.

“No, I-”

“I can speak for myself,” Nagito interrupted coolly. Huh? 

“Nagito, do…” Sonia started hesitantly. Hajime was glad his ally spoke up. “Do you regret doing what you did in the simulation? Trying to kill us all?”

Nagito hesitated. Hajime tensed. “I… I don’t think anything would have changed my mind, at the time. We were despair itself, weren’t we? I wholeheartedly believed that we deserved to die.”

Yikes. Kazuichi’s eyes bugged out. “How the hell are we supposed to trust you, then!? If you still want us dead-”

“However,” Nagito continued. “I was wrong to think of things as black and white. The past isn’t static, and I didn’t make an attempt to get to know any of you. I’ve had time to observe, and I’ve remembered who you were before we were corrupted. You really were…” He smiled serenely, placing a hand over his heart. “...Signs of hope.”

“Yeah, you said that a lot back in the game, too,” Akane piped up. “You still tried to off us!”

“I’m trying to change,” Nagito replied simply.

“He is,” Hajime added on. He felt a glare on his back, but he kept talking. “He’s messed up, even recently, but he’s made up for it. He’s been helping me, trying to help you.”

“We cannot see that, though,” Sonia spoke again. “I had told you earlier. The unknown is frightening, and we do not know him very much at all.”

“We have to take your word for it. He sticks to your side like glue,” Peko added bluntly.

“Hajime’s not my keeper. Direct your questions to me,” Nagito said.

“Ooh! Ooh!” Ibuki waved her hand wildly. “Ibuki thinks we should all hang out with Nagi! One-on-one!”

“U-um… are you sure…?” Mikan asked nervously.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, though I’m very bad at conversation,” Nagito agreed cheerfully. “If you feel nervous, I wouldn’t blame you if you’d prefer to tie me to a post, or hold a weapon to my head!”

“Not necessary,” Hajime cut in.

Despite the rocky start, the Q and A seemed to go more smoothly than Hajime had thought. Eventually the crowd dispersed, but several stayed behind, asking Nagito more questions, which he answered with a surprising amount of sincerity. 

It was getting a bit late, and Hajime stifled a yawn, sitting next to the guest of the evening. For the first time in maybe an hour, Nagito looked over at him. “Ah, Hajime,” he smiled. “I know you’re afraid I’ll try something dangerous, but I assure you that it’s alright for you to leave.”

Hajime blinked in surprise. “Huh? No, I’m good. Why, do you want me to go?”

The last part was meant as a joke, but the other’s hesitation made him uncomfortable.

“You seem tired. I think you should,” he replied amicably.

Hajime decided against out-staying his welcome, so he did as he was told, feelings slightly wounded.

********************

It was later that night when Hajime heard a knock on his cottage door. He spat out his toothpaste and grumbled that he was coming, his bed looking more enticing by the minute.

He opened the door, and…

“Good evening, Hajime,” Nagito greeted. Hajime was in his pajamas, but the other was fully dressed, probably just coming back from talking with the others.

“Oh, hey!” Hajime tried not to show his surprise. Self-consciously, he glanced behind at his scattered things. Had Nagito ever been in his room before? He didn’t think so. “Come on in.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ll be quick,” Nagito said. He was still smiling. A pit formed in Hajime’s stomach.

“I just came by to tell you that I’ve talked to Ryota. From now on, he’ll be your new assistant, and I’ll be in charge of cleaning. Don’t worry, my things have already been cleared out of the office,” Nagito informed him.

It took a minute to process. “You… huh? You’re quitting? Why? I thought we…” Hajime wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

Nagito glanced down, his grin wavering. But when he met his gaze again, it was back. Plastic. Pasted. Fake.

“You see, Hajime, I think our companionship could go one of two routes,” Nagito said. “The way you’ve treated me since you learned about me and Mr. Ka- ...Izuru, has been different. The forced normalcy, how you’re trying very hard to act like nothing had happened. You’ll try your hand at friendship with me again, because that’s the kind of person you are. But it’ll be fake. You won’t want it.” Nagito tapped his metal finger on his leg, the one sign of his nervousness betraying him. “Maybe that would have been good enough for me before, but after knowing your actual kindness, I don’t think my heart could take that.”

“I… I’m not trying to force…” Hajime stuttered. 

But he was, wasn’t he?

“But the other situation is what would truly break me,” Nagito continued, blissful as always. “In order to cope with what your body was forced to do, I’m worried you would try to pursue a romantic relationship with me.”

“Nagito, no-”

“And I would see through it, and I would know that you were lying to yourself about your feelings. But I wouldn’t be able to refuse you. Love always trumps logic, you know,” Nagito mused. “I couldn’t tell you how long it would take, but you’d catch on eventually. Maybe you’d fall for someone else, maybe you’d simply realize that everything was just a way to alleviate trauma. And you would leave. And I would…” He trailed off.

“Do you really think I’d use you like that!?” Hajime demanded. His throat ached.

“Not on purpose,” Nagito murmured.

“I…” Hajime shook his head. “I just want to-”

“‘Go back to the way things were’?” Nagito finished, giving him a pitying look. “Were you talking about how we fought in the simulation? Or how we were in a love affair that you had no say in?” Nagito smiled sadly. “Is our three weeks of friendship really worth the pain?”

Yes , Hajime wanted to say. But the words didn’t come out.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Nagito stepped back from the doorway. “Good night, Hajime.”

And the boy exited, getting smaller and smaller until he was no longer in his sight.

Hajime didn’t move. He couldn’t find it in himself to stop him. He just stared at the empty space where his friend had once been.

Nagito was right, though, wasn’t he? They really had been civil for such a short amount of time, and it was still punctuated with bouts of anger, stress, and relapse. By all accounts, no, it shouldn’t have been worth it.

So why did it hurt so much?

Chapter Text

Servant wasn’t having a very good day. 

The actual waking-up process wasn’t too bad. His bed was dusty, lumpy, and smelled of mildew, but it was a bed nonetheless. For the past two months or so, he’d slept on the cold dirty floor of the Warriors of Hope’s “dungeon”. It wasn’t like he had been forced to, per se; after all, he was the one who had sought the children out and fitted his metal collar. He was the one who’d forgone the name “Nagito Komaeda” in favor of his new title. They’d been confused at first, but the idea of an adult slave quickly became very exciting for them, and they accepted his role quickly. 

But he was “free” now, and very, very lost.

Servant’s legs burned when he got to his feet, still sore from when Toko Fukawa (Toko? Jack? Jill?)  had slashed him, though her betrayal amused him more than anything. 

When Servant climbed down the stairs of the abandoned house, he found the other bed in the building empty. 

He frowned. When he had retired to his room the night before, Monaca Towa had been curled up under those covers. After he’d given her one last glance, he’d felt an odd mixture of brotherly protection and an impulsive desire to suffocate her in her sleep. The despair she represented had, of course, made him want to vomit in disgust, but it also made him excited for the hope she would surely breed. Just like Junko. 

Though, he wasn’t surprised Monaca had run off. She was put off by his decision to rescue her, and his first lesson bored her to tears. 

Servant wondered if she would survive the day alone. 

He realized he didn’t particularly care. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime was having a very bad day. 

Sure, there was that brief moment of blissful ignorance when he woke up, before he remembered everything that has transpired. But of course it all came back, and he slammed his pillow into his face

Hajime made the executive decision to sleep in a bit longer, assuming that it would push his breakfast time later and allow him to avoid Nagito. 

Unfortunately, the boy in question had the same idea, and when Hajime arrived at the restaurant, there he was. Surprisingly, he wasn’t alone. In fact, his table was quite full: Ibuki, Sonia, Mahiru, Mikan, and Hiyoko were accompanying him, talking animatedly with the overwhelmed Nagito. It looked like the Q and A had gone well, and the realization that the boy was more soft than psycho had drawn the girls. 

Hajime seriously considered bailing on breakfast before anyone noticed him, but then his and Nagito’s eyes met. His heart gave a weird lurch ( Shut the fuck up, he told it), and the shy smile was dropped from the other’s face. Hajime gritted his teeth and plopped next to Kazuichi. 

Sonia noticed that Hajime had not joined the Nagito parade, and cautiously approached him. Hajime didn’t say anything, just looked at her with the face of a dejected puppy. 

She gave his hand a pat, and quietly sat with him. 

And now he was in his office, glumly staring at the computer. Ryota was fiddling with papers on Nagito’s old desk, looking very distraught. Hajime vaguely considered asking if he needed help, but he couldn’t find the energy to do so. 

“Um… I can’t find last week’s report. Do you know where Nagito put it?” Ryota finally spoke up, intimidated by Hajime’s obviously stellar mood. 

“I dunno. The guy had his own system. Ask him yourself.” Hajime mumbled.

Ryota mumbled that he’d keep looking. Hajime knew he was being a dick to his new assistant, and he did feel guilty, but any conversation involving Nagito was one that he didn’t want to take part in. 

For someone who was so insistent on not “pursuing” anything, it sure does feel like a breakup, Hajime thought bitterly. 

Abruptly, the door swung open, scattering poor Ryota’s papers across the room. In marched Ibuki, followed by a slightly-less enthusiastic Mahiru.

“Hajime, sir!” Ibuki snapped to a salute. “Permission for Ibuki and Mahi-Mahi to have today off!

“Uh. Why…?” Hajime blinked. 

“For the party, obviously,” Mahiru said, eyebrow raised. “Did you seriously already forget?”

“I can’t forget something I didn’t know about in the first place,” Hajime grumbled. 

“The party with the Future Foundation? Aren’t they coming tomorrow?” Mahiru prompted. 

“Wha- They are?” Hajime narrowed his eyes. “Wait, how do you even know about that?”

Ibuki yanked Hajime’s chair (occupied by Hajime) away from his computer. She slapped his hand away when he tried to grab the mouse back, and navigated to his email. The last one he had gotten was from Makoto at 8 pm last night. 

“‘Looking forward to seeing everyone Friday’?” Hajime read. 

“Yup, yup!” Ibuki bounced on her toes. “Eggy said that him and Kyoko and Hina and Superhiro and Notposter can come on over tomorrow, and Ibuki decided that Hajime would say yes!”

Hajime scrolled through the email chain. The amount of exclamation marks and acronyms and misspelled words made him cringe. He’d have to apologize to Makoto later.

“It’s not supposed to be a party, though, they’re just checking on how things are,” Hajime said, trying to scoot his chair back to the desk. Ibuki shoved him away. 

“Ibuki decided to have a girl talk with Kyo and Hina, and we think that a party would be best!”

Hajime looked at that chain, too. In the first two emails, Ibuki and Hina politely introduced themselves, but about twenty messages later, they were gushing and party-planning like best friends. The only email from Kyoko was at the very end. It just said “Sure.”

“Oh. Huh.” Hajime scanned his inbox, then halted. “Wait, why were you going through my stuff?!”

“I was in the area,” Ibuki replied simply. 

Hajime decided he didn’t have the energy to pry further. 

“We wanted the day off to decorate the Tycoon. Make it more welcoming, you know?” Mahiru said, trying to get them back on track. 

“...Fine. Whatever. Just get Peko to cover your shift, Ibuki.” Hajime rubbed his forehead. “Go ahead and tell everyone that the foundation’s coming, while you’re at it.”

“You don’t want to?” Ibuki frowned, before standing behind Hajime and resting her chin on his head. “Waaa, Hajiman’s so boring without his Nagichan!”

“If you say that ever again, I will throw you into a river,” Hajime said cheerfully.

Ibuki screeched and yanked Mahiru out of the room with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nagito wasn’t having the worst day of his life, but he’d definitely had better.

It surely didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before. He’d evolved past restless tossing and turning, and instead lay stone-still, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He didn’t see the darkness of his room, though. All Nagito had seen was Hajime, and the look on his face when he’d left him standing in his doorway. 

Nami was the one who finally forced him out of bed. She’d gotten used to the early-to-rise schedule, and when Nagito had opted to procrastinate on eating breakfast to avoid Hajime, she’d pounced on him. Maybe Nagito wasn’t sick anymore, but he was still terribly out of shape. 

His breath left him in a whoosh. “No, bad-”

The dog shoved her nose in his face and whined. Her message was clear: “Give me food, let me pee.”

As annoyed as he was, Nagito couldn’t help but give the hound a hug and do what she wanted. Nami really did have him wrapped around her paw. 

His heart was drumming uncomfortably in his chest when he reached the restaurant, praying that Hajime wasn’t there, that he could get in and out as quickly as he could, and that Hajime was not there. 

And he wasn’t. 

So Nagito nabbed a piece of toast and perched at an empty table, ready to flee if need be. Getting up later meant that he wasn’t alone in the restaurant; Sonia, Gundham, Teruteru, Imposter, Akane, and Nekomaru were already seated together, chatting with quiet sleepiness. Of course they had noticed him. Out of habit, he avoided eye contact to stop himself from ruining their view. But soon after he had taken his seat, he noticed a figure delicately sit down across from him. 

“Good morning, Sonia. Can I help you?” Nagito asked, not letting his surprise and discomfort betray him. 

“Good morning,” she greeted back pleasantly. “I just wanted to talk.”

He wondered which direction the conversation would take. Awkward small talk? Hostility? 

“Even if it might have not seemed like it, I think all of us appreciated your speech last night.”

Neither, apparently. Nagito was surprised by the sincerity in her voice. 

“I don’t want to impend on your happiness on the island,” Nagito replied. “Even though I can’t leave, I’d rather not have you waste your time being frightened of me.”

“‘Frightened’ isn’t quite the word I would use,” Sonia said, tapping her chin.

“No? Are you still getting used to the language?” Nagito asked.

Sonia laughed. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant.” 

“Oh?”

“I would call it ‘nervous’. We know you are different from how you were in the game, but we do not know how different. The unknown makes us uneasy.” Sonia smiled. “After my group counseling session, I said something very similar to Hajime. Was the apology perhaps his idea?”

Nagito clenched his jacket in his hands. It was. It always was. 

“I’m not his responsibility,” Nagito said stiffly. 

Sonia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course not, you are your own person.” Concern crossed her face. “Are you upset with-?”

But before she could finish her question, Ibuki had plopped herself on the chair next to Nagito, Mikan’s wrist in her hand. 

“Howdy, howdy!”

“G-good morning,” Mikan whispered. 

Nagito was surprised at Ibuki’s complete lack of acknowledgement that he was an unexpected guest at their table. He wondered if she somehow overlooked him, but she gasped at his tray, now empty. 

“Did Nagichan not get his breakfast?” 

Nagichan…?  “No, I had toast,” he replied. 

“J-just t-toast? Y-you should eat more, y-you’re still healing,” Mikan spoke up, surprisingly. Nursing seemed to be the only thing she was confident about. “A-and your BMI is already v-very low as it is.”

“Oh no!” Sonia put a hand over her mouth, before passing him her bowl of rice. “Please, eat. I am already full.”

Nagito wrinkled his nose at the new food. Rice always looked like maggots to him. Dead maggots. Dead, bland maggots. He considered mentioning it, but another voice spoke up.

“Doesn’t he hate rice?” Mahiru asked, placing herself next to the princess. Hiyoko reluctantly took her other side. “He refused to eat it when I, um.” She paused, looking uncomfortable. 

Ah yes, when he was tied up in the simulation. Nagito had cheerfully disobeyed the “beggars can’t be choosers” moral. 

“It’s okay, Mahiru,” Hiyoko wrapped her arms around the girl, and glared at Nagito. “He just wanted Hajime to feed him. Like a gross weirdo.”

Nagito gritted his teeth and stared at his lap. He didn’t say anything. It would be rude to lie.

“Um!” Sonia piped up, rescuing Nagito from his turmoil. “I don’t fancy rice, either. I had just hoped you would eat mine for me.” 

Sonia laughed, embarrassed. Nagito smiled with her. 

He was feeling a sense of kinship with her that only a mutual hatred of rice could inspire, when one more person entered the room. 

Nagito wanted to bonk himself on the head to punish his brain for instinctively chanting its usual “ Hajime! Hajime! Look, it’s Hajime!”

The boy had noticed him first, staring like a rabbit at a wolf. Hajime looked like he was one second away from booking it out the door, but instead, he simply broke eye contact and walked resolutely to the other table. The expression was muted, but his face looked the same as it did the night before. 

Undeniably hurt. 

Of course Nagito didn’t want to be cold to him. Of course he didn’t want to break off contact. Of course he didn’t want to reject his companionship. 

As he walked away that night, Nagito had so wished that Hajime would call out to him, chase after him, tell him that yes , being together was worth any of the pain accrued from their past. 

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. 

It was for the best, anyway. 

Sonia, perceptive as she was, noticed Nagito’s abrupt change of expression, and followed his gaze to the slumped boy between Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi. She bit her lip, then quietly excused herself. After pecking a kiss on Gundham’s head, she settled down across from Hajime, giving him a quiet look of sympathy. It was obvious why she felt the need to comfort him. Hajime always wore his expressions openly on his face: sadness, embarrassment, annoyance, anger. 

He really was nothing like Izuru. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Servant hummed as he strolled aimlessly through the hellish streets of Towa City. 

The screams provided harmony, the mechanical “upupu”’s provided percussion, the ruddy sky provided the mood for his eery, baseless tune. 

And for a second, he wondered if he’d accidentally summoned some angel, or some demon, or some different kind of otherworldly being. Because there in the distance, regarding the lake in front of them, was a shadow of a figure, impossibly long, black hair brushing the wind. 

They turned around, and Servant felt his breath leave his body. He was foolish not to recognize him. The suit, the hair, the face wiped clean of emotion, the red eyes. 

The red, red eyes of Izuru Kamukura. 

Servant threw himself into a reverent kneel, his stare fixed to the ground, avoiding eye contact like he was in front of a god. 

“Mr. Kamukura…!” He gasped. “To think… I would be so lucky to be in your presence again, I…!”

“You,” Izuru replied simply. 

Servant jerked his head up. It really was him.

He knew, because he could still feel it.

The feeling of Izuru’s hand sliding on his waist. The feeling of being ruthlessly shot. The feeling of trying not to pass out, if only so he wouldn’t have to take his eyes off of the miracle before him. 

“You couldn’t possibly remember a wretch like me,” Servant said in disbelief.

Izuru regarded the boy. “I forget only what I choose to. You weren’t worth the time it would take to do so.”

“Of course, of course,” Servant whispered, a dazed grin carving his face at the thought of him taking up any space in Izuru’s mind. 

The man had pivoted on his heel to leave, when Servant called out once more. 

“Please, let me accompany you,” he begged. Selfish, selfish, selfish. But the thought of the other leaving his sight again made him want to curl up into a ball, smaller and smaller until he vanished. “I pledge my devotion to you. I’ll be your Servant. I’ll follow your every command to the ends of the Earth. I’ll give up anything I possibly can to keep you safe. I’d willingly throw my worthless life away, if only to satisfy your expectations.” Tears of desperation clouded his vision. “Please, let me give myself to you.”

Izuru blinked slowly. Catlike. Bored. 

“I don’t care.”

Servant’s heart burst with joy. It was the most beautiful sentiment he’d ever heard. 

And so he followed after Izuru Kamukura, the chain of his collar clinking against his chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nagito hummed as he swept the boardwalk. 

If it wasn’t for the circumstances, he honestly wouldn’t have minded switching roles with Ryota. Cleaning could get dull, sure, but there was a sense of accomplishment when he was able to do the only thing he was decent at. He’d even offered to take over Hiyoko’s shift as well, who agreed before his sentence was even finished. It was a show of good faith. And a distraction. 

His muffled melody was cut short when Nami (who was previously chasing after the broom) suddenly took off. Frowning, he set down his tool to see what her target was. Not that he was particularly worried; she ran off on her own all the time, usually returning with some treat or toy in her mouth. 

Nagito cursed under his breath when he saw where she ended up. Evidently, Hajime had been spotted in the act of leaving his office. Nagito frantically considered calling his dog back, before deciding not to risk being found. Instead, he made sure to keep out of the other’s sight. 

Hajime stiffened when Nami reached him, realizing that Nagito was most likely close by. His expression was one of a conflicted man, before he sighed and bent down.

“Hey sweetheart. Good girl, good baby,” Hajime cooed.

Nagito covered his mouth to stifle a giggle. He could imagine the conversation: Nagito would catch him in the act of puppy worship, Hajime would turn red and claim that Nagito hadn’t seen anything, and he would give Nami one last nonchalant pat before marching off and trying to look very manly .

Or, that’s what would have happened a week ago. Instead, Nagito stayed hidden and let Nami say her hello’s. The poor dog probably felt like a kid with divorced parents.

“Oh! I found Nagito!”

Nagito flinched. His cover had been blown by Mahiru, who was trotting towards him. 

“Hello,” He whispered. 

“Huh? Speak up, geez,” Mahiru griped. 

“What do you need?” Nagito reluctantly asked louder. Hajime definitely would be able to hear him.

“Party time!” Someone slammed into his back, nearly knocking him off balance. It wasn’t hard to guess who. 

“Party… time?” He winced at the sudden collision. 

Ibuki spun around to face him. “Yup! Egg boy and Kyo and Notposter and Superhiro and Nanina are coming tomorrow!”

He stared at her blankly. 

“Makoto, Kyoko, Byakuya, Hiro, and Hina,” Mahiru informed him. “Can you stop with the nicknames? I don’t want to be named after a fish.”

“But it’s Ibuki’s new thing!” Ibuki pouted. “Nagichan likes it, doesn’t-“

Ibuki had planted her hand on top of Nagito’s head in the middle of her sentence, and gasped. 

“Is something wrong?” Nagito asked. He wondered if a bird had flown over and left him an unfortunate present. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

The girl had instead plunged another hand into his hair and started ruffling it madly. “It’s so poofy! Like a bunny tail!” She squealed. “Ibuki thought Nagichan would be the type to never wash his hair at all!”

He tried to lean away, but she just moved with him. “No, I despise being dirty.” And having someone else’s hands in his hair. 

“Mahi-Mahi, touch it!”

Mahiru glanced to the side uncomfortably. After his announcement last night, Ibuki had shown almost no restraint in accepting Nagito as one of the “good guys”. After all, she appeared to have almost as little of a grasp on social norms and cues as he did (though, she was much more charming about it). Sonia and Mahiru seemed to be warming up to him, or at least trying to, but there was obviously some hesitation. Even so, Mahiru semi-reluctantly followed Ibuki’s order and lightly felt his hair. 

Her eyes widened. “Whoa, you’re right. It’s like, really soft. What kind of shampoo do you use?”

“Just whatever I find in Rocketpunch,” Nagito mumbled. He was frozen in place as the two girls fluffed his hair. Was Hajime still nearby? Most of him hoped he wasn’t, but the little voice in the back of his head kind of wanted him to still be in earshot. See, Hajime? I can get along with other people!

His question was quickly answered when Ibuki yelled. “Hajiman! Come feel Nagichan’s hair!”

Nagito realized that the little voice was a dumbass.

He choked out a myriad of excuses as he stumbled into a hasty escape.

Smooth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear the sound of a helicopter again without getting flooded with fear and adrenaline. However, the big, white “FF” painted on the side did set his heart at ease. He knew who was coming, he knew why they were coming, and they were people that he very much wanted to see.

Even though Hajime was the only one to have made extensive contact with any of them, the whole 77th class waited with him on the airport runway, chattering excitedly.

“‘Bout time we get some new blood around here!” Nekomaru boomed.

“Aren’t they only staying for the weekend…?” Ryota asked meekly.

“You don’t get it, man. There’s two more chicks in there,” Kazuichi hissed, throwing his arm around the shy boy’s shoulders. “Our options have finally expanded, my friend!”

“Are you actually counting Kyoko as an ‘option’?” Fuyuhiko deadpanned. “Pretty sure that woman would claw your face off without batting an eye.”

“She’s with Makoto as well,” Peko added.

“Ms. Asahina, though…” Teruteru smoothed his hair. “Seems quite delicious.”

“Ew! Stop thinking with your puny little dicks!” Hiyoko crowed.

“Don’t worry, Ibuki’ll pummel Teru and Kazoo if they get too close to Na,” Ibuki reassured.

Hajime thanked every god he could think of that his classmates’ desperate conversation had fizzled out once the helicopter touched down.

Once the doors slid open, Hiro was the first to lurch out, clutching his stomach. 

“Ugh… I think I’m gonna yak…!” He groaned, staggering a bit before falling onto his hands and knees. 

Mikan rushed to his side. “Are you o-okay? We have Dramamine back at the h-hospital!”

“Oh, he’s just a big baby. You’ve been on a helicopter like, a billion times now!” Hina chided, hopping off next. 

Byakuya sidestepped to avoid his coworker on the ground, regarding his surroundings with the look of a man who was thoroughly unimpressed with everything around him.

And out came Makoto, politely helping Kyoko off the helicopter beside him. 

“Hey, guys! Sorry, we’re a little late,” Makoto greeted apologetically.

Hajime grinned and gave the other a brief hug. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see you, man!”

“Hello again, Hajime,” Kyoko said, holding out a gloved hand. 

“Hi, Kyoko.” Hajime shook her hand, carefully making sure not to glance at her left eye. The antidote Mikan had made was nothing short of a miracle. Although the suicides and murders in the foundation’s killing game had been permanent, those “killed” by poison were able to be revived. However, it wasn’t without a price to pay. Kyoko was now blind in one bloodshot eye, and part of her face was now marred with discoloration and pronounced veins. Though, physical appearance didn’t seem to be something she would be particularly worried about.

As Makoto and Hajime exchanged pleasantries and updates, the other four foundation members dispersed into the crowd. Sonia and Gundham, who knew all about Hiro’s supposed “clairvoyance”, were talking excitedly with him. Hajime figured this kind of interest in his abilities was rare, since Hiro was speaking loudly and passionately, punctuating his sentences with wild arm movements. Hina was approached immediately by Kazuichi and Teruteru, to whom she just said a simple “no” to, before heading off to meet her new best friend, Ibuki. Imposter had started a conversation with the unwilling Byakuya, trying to determine how accurate his impression was in order to improve for next time. Whenever that would be. Kyoko and Ryota were speaking as well; apparently they had formed a slight bond during their time at the Future Foundation.

And there was Nagito, in the corner of the crowd, bouncing on his toes. The boy was obviously violently torn between saying hello to his idol, and avoiding Hajime. Was his newfound apparent hatred really that strong? Hajime felt a stab of bitterness.

“Hey, let me take you guys on a tour,” Hajime suggested with false cheer. He turned to his classmates. “Anyone who wants to come is welcome to.”

He banked on Nagito forfeiting the invitation, to be intimidated by the crowd and Hajime’s presence, and lose his chance at talking with Makoto.

Nagito noticed Hajime looking at him with a self-righteous glare on his face.

Nagito narrowed his eyes slightly and turned on his heels to walk away.

Hajime felt a little bit of twisted pride at his success.

But mostly, he just felt guilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Servant was scared

Servant was terrified.

He wasn’t scared of the sudden swarm of Monokumas, approaching slowly, claws unsheathed and hungry for blood. He wasn’t scared that his pocket knife, his only means of defense, had been taken from him not long before. He wasn’t scared that he had stumbled onto the ground, unable to pull himself backward due to the impending wall of vicious machines.

He was terrified because Izuru was nowhere to be seen.

The man had, without warning, deftly stolen Servant’s knife (though, he would have given it over willingly if he had asked), pushed him off the overpass they were on, and into the swarmed street.

Servant wheezed through a panic attack, hands holding his ears, eyes squeezed shut. If he couldn’t see Izuru, he didn’t want to see at all. He didn’t want to watch himself die without the chance to tell the man how much he loved him, one last time.

But instead of metal slicing through flesh, he felt a rumble beneath him. 

The Monokumas toppled over one another as the ground shook, knocking them off course. A chorus of mechanical screeches and “oh no”’s sounded before being drowned out by the sound of streetlights being pulled from their posts. The lights crashed down, shattering over the robots. Electric sparks and crackles created fireworks to end the show, and the back of Servant’s eyelids were painted white.

And then it was still. 

When Servant finally allowed himself to survey his surroundings, he saw charred metal parts and wires forming a protective circle around him. The Monokumas were gone. He had been protected by the Earth itself.

A figure emerged from behind the wreckage.

He’d been watching.

Servant was clear of any drop of anger he would have felt, should have felt, as he sprinted over rubble to take hold of the lapels on Izuru’s meticulous suit.

“Mr. Kamukura, are you alright!? Are you hurt!?” Servant demanded. Blood was trickling down the desperate boy’s cheek, but he didn’t notice. 

“I’m fine,” Izuru replied, watching in vague curiosity as Servant clutched onto him. Distress had made him unconsciously bolder.

“I was… I was so scared! I thought I’d lost you!” Servant gasped through sobs, tears soaking his cheeks, and then Izuru’s shirt as he buried his face into his chest.

Izuru raised an eyebrow. Servant was acting wildly out of character, and it vaguely piqued his interest. 

He decided to conduct another test. 

Izuru gripped Servant’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his face up and closer to his.

Wide, tear-stained eyes were locked open as Izuru leaned forward to press their lips together.

Brief. Cold.

Izuru stepped back to assess the results.

Emotions flashed wildly across the other’s face. Shock. Disbelief. Stupor. Joy.

And then Servant once again defied Izuru’s expectations. He flung his arms around Izuru’s neck and kissed him again, pressing close, hands scrabbling at long hair. Izuru made little effort to reciprocate, simply placing his hands clinically on the other’s shoulders.

Abruptly, Servant teetered back, hands clasped over his mouth, his face red and love-drunk. Realization struck, and he dropped to the ground, spewing self-deprecation and remorse. 

Izuru took a few steps away before realizing that the boy was still on the curled up, giving into whatever bout of hysteria had taken hold of him. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and tugged on Servant’s chain, pulling him to his feet. Attempted apologies were ignored as they continued on their undefined path.

Servant was positive he had messed up. He was positive Izuru would leave him for good. 

So it came as a shock when later that night, Izuru summoned him to his room in the abandoned house they had found. 

And that was the first time Izuru 

touch

made

slept

showed Nagito Komaeda any hint of emotion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime had to admit, Ibuki and Mahiru had done a very good job at gussying up the Titty Tycoon. 

The curtain on the stage had long since been replaced; Ibuki wasn’t phased by much, but one of the things that did was the backdrop to her murder in the simulation. However, the newer, red curtain had been decorated with colored lights, turning the floor of the darkened room technicolor. Tables, pushed to the sides of the room, were covered in silky fabric and a massive selection of food, prepared (of course) by Teruteru. Music pumped out of the stereos, loud enough to set the mood, but not enough to burst everyone’s eardrums. The two girls (or, just Mahiru, probably) had even covered up the first word in the building’s title, so that it now simply read “Tycoon”. That was definitely a needed change.

“Oh my God, you took my advice on the lights!” Hina gushed to Ibuki and Mahiru. 

“It makes the curtains pop, don’t you think?” Mahiru grinned. Ibuki nodded enthusiastically. 

The 77th and 78th class filed into the building, marveling at the club’s dramatic makeover. Most of them tried to dress up for the occasion as well, though the older class’s pickings were slim. All Hajime had done was wore dark pants and a polo he’d never worn. That was enough, right?

Before he could follow his friends into the Tycoon, he noticed Imposter lingering near the doorway. 

“You okay?” Hajime asked, hanging back. 

Imposter nodded. “But I think I should stay back and keep watch. It’s been a couple days, but another helicopter could still come.”

Hajime felt a rush of embarrassment. Evidently, he’d been too distracted to think of safety precautions. Stupid. “Oh, jeez, yeah. Is that okay? I can come switch places with you in thirty minutes.”

“I don’t mind, really. Take your time.” Imposter smiled up at the sky, the stars visible for the first time in years. “It’s a nice night to be outside.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Future Foundation pilot sat still in the helicopter, parked on the Jabberwock airport runway. His eyes were trained blankly on the windshield in front of him as he waited for his radio to crackle in with a message.

Hajime Hinata, the leader of the Jabberwock residents, had politely asked if he wanted to join them on the tour of the island. The pilot declined with a smile and simply asked for directions to the island hotel where the foundation members were to stay.

However, he hadn’t moved from his seat in the hours since, as he waited.

Night had fallen when he noticed a hefty student, the Imposter, wandering around the airport, his eyes trained to the sky. Patrolling.

That wouldn’t do.

Luckily, the Imposter didn’t hear him approaching, and he was unable to stop the soaked rag from being clamped over his nose and mouth.

It was difficult to keep a hold on the struggling boy, but eventually the slaps and kicks weakened as he slumped over, giving in to the chloroform. The pilot loosened his grip and let the Imposter slide messily onto the ground, and left the boy alone.

The knife tucked into the pilot’s pocket glinted in the starlight, but it remained unused. After all, where was the despair in a death without witness?

The radio finally buzzed in. His associates were about to land.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes came and went, and Imposter had yet to return to the party. But Hajime remembered that Imposter was fine with his post, and pushed the thought away. 

Hajime quickly discovered that having a party, as opposed to a simple business trip, was a very, very good idea. With all the suits and ties, it was easy to forget that all of them really were just kids. Maybe they were technically in their twenties, but the Tragedy had robbed them of their formative teenage years, whether it be to memory loss or to brainwashing. They deserved to have the chance to laugh, to celebrate, to drink a little too much of the champagne their guests had brought and the cheap liquor that had found its way into their supply drops. 

Hajime was lounging in the corner, surveying the room with a small, tipsy smile on his face. He was sensible enough to know that getting drunk off his ass in his current mental state would be a terrible idea, but the small amount he did have made things a bit more manageable. The same could definitely not be said for most of his classmates. Kazuichi and Hiro were laying on the ground and cracking up at who-knows-what. Ibuki was passionately air-guitaring on stage in front of Mikan, who was crying tears of… something. Hiyoko zipped around the room, snatching food and drinks and lobbing them unceremoniously onto the ground. Teruteru was blabbering madly in his indecipherable accent, to which Ryota was listening very intently to and nodding. Hina was clutching onto a disgusted Byakuya and sobbing about how much he meant to her. From the tear stains on Makoto’s jacket and the amused look on Kyoko’s face, it looked like they had been her previous victims. Even Sonia was giggling hysterically while attempting to braid Nagito’s hair to look like hers.

And Nagito had been staring at him.

When he was caught, he reddened and quickly turned away, earning a slurred scolding from his hairdresser.

Hajime frowned. Nagito had been avoiding him for a whole two days. Why was he looking at Hajime? Was there something wrong with his clothes, maybe?

It occurred to him that Hajime being in formal attire might have been why he was staring.

Then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pilot and his associates hid near the Tycoon, waiting. Their targets: Hajime Hinata, Sonia Nevermind, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, Akane Owari, and Kazuichi Soda. They were just inside, but it would be foolish to try and take them now. In order to be successful, they needed to pick off the biggest threats to the heist to dispose of, one by one.

An hour passed, but the six men didn’t move. They seldom blinked. There were no thoughts in their heads that weren’t related to the mission at hand.

Finally, one of their threats emerged for fresh air: Nekomaru Nidai, the impossibly strong Ultimate Team Manager. He raised his arms to give his back an almighty crack, unaware of the three strangers sneaking behind. 

One man shot a kick to the back of Nidai’s knees, toppling him over onto his stomach. Before he could stand up and make a pass at his assailant, a second attacker stomped heavily on his spine. Shouts and curses streamed out as the wind was knocked from Nidai’s lungs, but the pulsing music pushed away any sound that could have made its way inside. The third man fell into a crouch and forced chloroform into Nidai’s system. 

Threat number one had been taken care of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime wished he hadn’t seen Nagito.

He had been enjoying watching his classmates make themselves look like dumbasses. Who didn’t like having embarrassing blackmail material on those they hold dear? But now his brain had taken the boy and ran with it. And Hajime was surprised at the direction it went.

He was still angry. He was still incredibly pissed. But it wasn’t because of their past, or Izuru, or even the fact that Nagito had withheld so much information from him.

It was because he had abandoned him so easily, as if any semblance of a friendship they had meant nothing. Every minute they’d talked, planned, laughed, healed, and connected was blown off and forgotten. They had been reverted back to strangers, and Hajime almost felt like that was worse than when they were enemies in the trial room. Nagito had rejected his companionship under the ruse of altruism, but right now, all Hajime could think was how selfish the whole thing was.

And as soon as Nagito had become civil with the others, Hajime had been replaced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Threat number two was not much of a fighter.

Granted, he was a complete wildcard; he murdered in the simulation, but he had used little physical force to do so. He spoke with the confidence of a seasoned assassin, but his best line of defense was shouted nonsense and four fluffy hamsters.

However, his relationship to one of the targets could prove to be a very dangerous liability to the mission.

And so Gundham Tanaka had been forced to join Nidai in the realm of unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, the high of anger had been quickly replaced by the dreadful low of depression. Self-control no longer seemed like a viable option to Hajime, as he glumly made his way to the refreshments. However, it looked like his classmates had gone through all of champagne and liquor like over-eager college kids. He held a bottle of cheap vodka to his lips, but there was barely enough liquid to warrant a burning swallow. 

Last he remembered, Sonia had been mixing some into a half-empty can of soda. Hajime wondered if she was still goofing around with Nagito. He scowled. 

But the thought was interrupted when the princess herself stumbled into his back, nearly knocking the empty bottle from his hand. She slurred a quick apology before wobbling over to grab more food.

So, Sonia wasn’t with Nagito. Was Ibuki?

No; Ibuki was in the middle of the room, dancing wildly with Mikan (who had drunk plenty of liquid courage herself).

Maybe Mahiru?

Not her either; Mahiru was standing in the corner of the room. She was completely sober, but she was cracking up at her girlfriend’s drunken antics.

Hajime scanned the room, before landing back on where Nagito had been sitting. And he was still there, alone, fiddling with an empty cup. When he looked up, the expression on his face robbed Hajime of every bit of fury he’d been feeling. 

Because Nagito looked so… sad. Sad, lonely, dull, tired, everything Hajime had been feeling since their friendship had been broken. 

Why had he assumed Nagito was completely fine with everything that had gone down between them? He knew him better than that. 

They were both miserable, and Hajime decided that the whole situation was very, very stupid. He made his way across the room to the other dejected boy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took the longest for threat number three to make her appearance. 

This was good; a warmup was in order to have any sort of chance against her, and she would be the most lethal if she woke up too early. 

When Peko Pekoyama emerged from the Tycoon, she immediately stiffened. The instincts of the Ultimate Swordswoman had been fine-tuned to sense the presence of unexpected guests, ready to defend her master with vicious devotion. A careful hand reached behind to unsheath her sword. Of course she had brought it, even to a seemingly harmless party.

“Show yourselves.” Her voice was calm, but an undercurrent of lethal intent laced its way through her words. 

The men stayed hidden, but she expected this. Pekoyama lowered her sword and started making her way back into the building. It was an act; her appearance of vulnerability meant to draw out the attackers.

All six men knew this, having been briefed on every minute detail of the Hope’s Peak survivors. However, they put in their own ruse. 

One of her targets leaped out from his hiding place, his own knife drawn and pointed to Pekoyama’s throat. She hardly batted an eye as her sword sliced through his abdomen, decorating the pavement with splatters of red. 

He was unphased. That was his job, and he’d done it perfectly. His expression hardly changed as he bled out on the ground. 

Because as she dealt her deadly blow, another lurched forward from the shadows, stabbing her square between her shoulder blades. Pekoyama let out a cry of pain and rage, spinning around and slashing with perfected aim. 

The man ducked, the tips of his hair sliced clean off. He frowned. That was close, and they needed at least five men to complete their objective. 

Two more assailants sprinted forward, one cutting a deep gash into her calf, and the other ramming his fist into the wound on her back. 

The swordswoman fell, a fourth man stomping on her wrist, and the fifth kicking her sword from her reach.

Curses and threats ripped themselves from her throat before she, too, succumbed to the chloroform-soaked towel wielded by the pilot.

Her sleeping body was dragged and tossed unceremoniously with the other two threats.

That was fortunate. Pekoyama nearly didn’t survive the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nagito’s gaze was locked onto Hajime as soon as he started his approach. He stopped in front of him, neither saying a word until Hajime jutted his hand out. 

“Dance with me,” He demanded. 

Nagito furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’ll lead,” he spoke again.

Two nights ago, Nagito had admitted that he wouldn’t be able to refuse any advances Hajime made. He hoped he’d been telling the truth. 

And apparently he was, because although his expression was wrought with bewilderment and suspicion, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and towards the middle of the floor. Hajime held their clasped hands higher and placed his other on Nagito’s concerningly thin waist. His partner hesitantly clasped his shoulder with metal fingers. They started to move, and…

Hajime immediately stepped on Nagito’s foot. 

Nagito yelped, more in surprise than pain. 

“Yeah, I still really don’t know how to dance,” Hajime mumbled.

“Then why did you want to?” Nagito asked, utterly confused.

“I dunno. It’s kinda fun to be a dumbass sometimes,” Hajime shrugged. 

Nagito looked around, eyebrow raised. “Lots of people are staring. Aren’t you embarrassed?” 

Hajime followed his gaze. He wasn’t wrong ; Kazuichi, Fuyuhiko, Akane, Teruteru, Byakuya, and even Makoto all had their eyes trained on them with varying levels of confusion. Sonia was staring too, but she was clapping with intoxicated glee. It felt a lot like their dance on the ship; though no one looked liked they expected Hajime to come under attack. Progress. 

“Yeah, kinda,” Hajime admitted. “Kinda glad I got some champagne in me before everyone else stole it.”

Nagito glanced down at Hajime’s fingers curled around his side. No careful avoidance there. His face turned red and disappointed, before stuttering out, “So that means-“

“Good God, I’m shit at this,” Hajime interrupted, pretending like he didn’t know where the other’s sentence was leading. “I mean, I guess I could pull out some talent for this, but it kinda takes the fun out of it. I just wanna have fun and be a dumbass with my friend. Why do I need to impress a friend?”

Before Nagito could refute, Hajime accidentally-on-purpose bumped them into Byakuya.

“ What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, disgusted. Hajime figured that disgust was an emotion he was quite skilled out. 

Nagito called out hurried apologies as Hajime spun them away. He lunged forward into the most awkward dip imaginable. 

“Hajime-!” Nagito let out a laugh despite himself, his head narrowly avoiding the floor. 

“Whoops,” Hajime grinned and pulled him back up. 

Nagito chewed on his lip to hide a smile. “Friends, huh?” 

“Friends,” Hajime agreed, twirling Nagito in a way that made his wrist pop. 

Nagito snorted, then glanced away, his expression falling back into concern. “But there’s still the matter of our luck.”

“Which cancels each other out,” Hajime said, and rolled his eyes. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Komaeda.” 

“Our friendship has been… volatile,” Nagito murmured. “Next time I make you mad… maybe it’ll be a genuine hostility, or a brief flash of anger, or just a bit of selfishness, that causes your luck to bring me harm.”

Hajime opened his mouth, but Nagito continued. “I don’t care much about what happens to me, but the thought of you feeling guilty…”

He frowned. “That could happen to me, too, though.”

Nagito shook his head. “No. Because I would never…” 

He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. 

I would never want to hurt you. 

Hajime paused, thought, considered.

And then let go of Nagito’s hand to flick him on the forehead.

“Ow, hey…!” Nagito protested. 

“Stop being so serious. Stop acting like everything’s the end of the world.” Hajime glared. “Can’t you just… be happy?”

“...You’re drunk.”

Good God. “Drunk enough to do what I want to do. Not drunk enough to want something I don’t want.”

Nagito hesitated, then let out a slow smile. He looped his free hand around Hajime’s neck. “Be happy, huh?”

Hajime was grateful the lights were dim enough to hide the furious blush that was certainly covering his face. “Yeah, be happy.”

And later, Hajime wondered what might have happened next, had the room not been filled with the sound of an explosion and a rush of smoke. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

One week before he’d been taken into the Future Foundation’s custody, Servant woke up in a house, alone. The thought shouldn’t have surprised him. 

Right?

Ever since he’d left the Warriors of Hope, Servant had traveled alone, wandering, ownerless. 

Right?

But as he exited the building to continue his aimless travels, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d forgotten something very important. Extremely important. But the thought was ludicrous. 

Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One second, Nagito had his arms boldly wrapped around Hajime, filled with so much love and happiness, that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

But the next, he was blinded by a haze of white and gray, his eyes burning and tearing. Hajime shoved him protectively behind him, still keeping a hold on his wrist.

“Hajime, what’s-?”

“I don’t know,” He growled back, his grip tightening.

And then Hajime was ripped from his grasp.

Nagito cried out his name, his voice adding to the startled, angry voices echoing in the building, drowned out by the still-pulsating music. They stumbled towards the door, bumping into each other as they escaped the smoke.

Nagito was the first to make it outside, coughing and choking, and as the fog cleared, he saw five men holding five students hostage.

Sonia. Kazuichi. Akane. Fuyuhiko, unconscious and drugged, being pulled into a black truck parked outside. Nekomaru, Gundham, and Peko had been tossed aside, tied together on the ground.

And Hajime, his red eye flashing, still struggling against the rag shoved over his face.

“Let him go,” Nagito commanded, calm and cool.

The man pointed a gun at Hajime’s head, a silent warning. His movements were getting weaker, starting to succumb to the chloroform.

Nagito slowly reached into his pocket, grabbing hold of the handle of a butter knife. He didn’t remember putting it in there.

Lucky.

He pulled it from his jacket, closing his eyes briefly. There was some subtle, indescribable change in the air as a mysterious force took control.

Nagito threw the knife. 

Its trajectory was straight, precise, as it knocked a smoke bomb loose from the man’s pocket, effectively detonating it and filling the air with white once again.

Lucky.

Nagito sprinted forward, hands outstretched, and a limp body fell into his arms. Warm. Familiar.

“Hajime? Hajime. I’ve got you, okay?” 

Hajime mumbled incoherently as he leaned heavily against him, his weight forcing himself to slip out of his grip.

“Haj-”

A fist tangled itself in Nagito’s hair, violently yanking his head back. His heels dragged on the ground as he was tugged away in Hajime’s stead. Nails scratched desperately on the stranger’s arm but his head was filled with haze as something soft was shoved over his face.

Nagito was a lot smaller, a lot weaker, than Hajime.

He blacked out quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last time Izuru Kamukura and Nagito Komaeda talked was when they were locked in a cabin together, swaying gently as they traversed across waves.

Nagito made awkward small talk with the beautiful stranger in front of him.

Izuru dismissed the unhinged stranger in front of him. 

He called him boring.

This was the one interaction between the two that Hajime had remembered, and Nagito hadn’t. Three days after learning about the twisted relationship of Izuru and Servant, Hajime considered telling the other about the conversation that had transpired shortly before they entered the simulation.

He didn’t.

Whether it was out of spite or pity, he wasn’t sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a brief moment, Hajime had landed into Nagito’s embrace. He heard words of comfort and reassurance, cutting through the slumber that would soon take over.

And then Nagito was gone, taken in his place.

As his head cracked against the ground and his eyes fluttered shut, a string of words circulated throughout his mind before he fell unconscious, left behind with the rest of his shocked classmates.

“Maybe it’ll be a genuine hostility, or a brief flash of anger, or just a bit of selfishness, that causes your luck to bring me harm. I don’t care much about what happens to me, but the thought of you feeling guilty…”

The moment he was captured, all Hajime wanted was to escape.

But all Nagito had wanted to do was to save Hajime.

Chapter Text

Nagito wondered if he had rolled off the bed in his sleep. He was on his stomach, his face pressed against the cold, hard floor. He tried to brace his hands underneath him to hoist himself up, but they wouldn’t move. What felt like metal circled his wrists, clasping them behind his back. His ankles were bound together, too. There was a loud roaring sound that almost drowned out the voices near him. 

Voices that definitely shouldn’t have been in his bedroom. Nagito jolted to his senses as he remembered what had happened. The voices continued. 

“We can use this!”

“No the fuck we can’t, we’re in a goddamn helicopter!”

“Wait, he’s gotta point. What if we pass by a rooftop or a tree or somethin’?”

“That would be dangerous! What if we miss?”

Nagito twisted to roll himself over, accidentally putting too much force into it and crashing into the wall. Four heads whipped toward him

“Nagito, thank goodness you’re awake!” Sonia exclaimed, scooting awkwardly towards him. Her hands and feet were bound as well, and her previously-immaculate red dress was torn and dirtied. 

Nagito angled his head up to look around. He, Sonia, Fuyuhiko, Akane, and Kazuichi were in a cramped and curved room, evidently the back of a helicopter, with various crates and boxes stacked and nailed to the floor. It was dark and windowless… save for the wide-open door, revealing the open sky zooming past them, whipping their hair in the wind. Kazuichi was innocently sitting in front of it. 

“I’m going to throw up,” Nagito said pleasantly. 

“Roll onto your side, dude!” Akane yelled. 

Nagito complied, and did exactly what he said he would. 

“Ugh, come on, man! We don’t know how long we’re gonna be in here!” Kazuichi protested, wrinkling his nose. 

“Kaz, close the fucking door!” Fuyuhiko cursed. He’d supposedly been working on his temper, but the situation seemed to be testing his resolve. 

“But it stinks in here, and I’m a sympathy barfer!” Kazuichi complained. 

“Kazuichi-” Sonia warned. 

He grumbled and pushed himself backwards towards a wall, his fingers moving rapidly against a keyboard, despite his wrists being locked together behind him. The door shut, bathing the room in darkness and silence. 

After clumsily rolling away from his mess, Nagito pulled himself up into a sitting position, still wrought with dizziness. Chloroform was apparently not his drug of choice. 

“If you don’t mind, can someone tell me what happened?” he asked. 

“We don’t know either,” Akane answered. “We were in the Titty Tycoon, there was smoke everywhere, we got grabbed, yada yada.”

“Was it just us? Where’s everyone else?” Kazuichi wondered. 

“How are we supposed to know?” Fuyuhiko retorted. 

“I think it was just us,” Nagito said, trying to recall what had transpired. “I know I saw Peko, Gundham, and Nekomaru tied up on the ground. They weren’t being taken anywhere, they were just… sleeping.”

“Are you sure they were just sleeping?!” Sonia demanded, terror apparent on her face. 

Nagito bit his lip. “I… I don’t know. I just assumed.”

Fuyuhiko swore. 

“Wait, how’d you see that?” Kazuichi frowned. “I zonked out as soon as I was grabbed.”

“I wasn’t taken immediately, but Hajime was,” Nagito replied. “When he was pulled away from me, I managed to get outside and distract the man holding him. I was kidnapped instead.”

“You couldn’t have helped the rest of us, too?!” Kazuichi demanded. 

Nagito smiled. “Apologies. My priorities were elsewhere.”

He gawked. “What-”

“Let’s assume that the five of us were the only ones taken,” Sonia interrupted quickly. “Why would that be?”

No one answered. 

Maybe...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Hajime’s eyes opened, he was out of bed and running. He stumbled, fell, cursed, and was back on his feet, sprinting through the hallway of the Jabberwock hospital. 

His expert eyes darted to the windows of each room he passed: Imposter, Nekomaru, Gundham, and Peko, all unconscious, the last heavily bandaged.

Finally, Hajime ran into someone. Literally. He collided into Mikan, but he grabbed her arm before she could fall. He didn’t have time to wait for her to get back up. 

“Where are they?!” He demanded. 

Mikan’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I… I d-d-don’t know if I sh-should be th-the one to t-t-t-tell-”

Hajime dashed past her. 

Once he made it into the waiting room, he saw Makoto and Kyoko, talking quickly and quietly to each other. 

At the sound of the door swinging open, the two Future Foundation members turned to face him. “Haj-” Makoto started before he was violently grabbed by the collar.

“Where are they!? Are they okay!?” Hajime shouted again. Makoto was on the tips of his toes, trying to keep his feet on the ground. A barely-hidden flash of fear crossed his face.

Immediately, Hajime was yanked away from the smaller boy.

“Calm down,” Kyoko said coolly. “You won’t help anyone by lashing out at people who don’t deserve it.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more. She released him.

“Sonia, Fuyuhiko, Nagito, Akane, and Kazuichi are missing,” Kyoko reported. “The last we saw of them was right before the first smoke bomb went off. Imposter was unconscious on the runway in the airport, and Gundham, Peko, and Nekomaru were unconscious outside the Tycoon. I assume it was from chloroform inhalation. The three closest to where we were had been tied up, and Peko had two knife wounds, one on her back and one on her calf. Her right wrist was also broken.”

“Is anyone going after them?” Hajime demanded. “Why are we just sitting here!?”

“The five that were taken were put into a gray truck parked near the party,” Makoto spoke up. “It got to the airport a lot faster than we could, and they took the Future Foundation helicopter to escape.” He cast his face to the ground. “We’re stranded.”

“Then call the Future Foundation to follow them!” Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose. “The helicopter you took to get here has to have a tracker, right?”

“They disabled it,” Makoto admitted, before his eyes brightened. “But we’ve got the foundation looking all over for them!”

Hajime frowned. “Disabled…? Don’t you need a passcode or something to do that?”

“We think the pilot who flew us to Jabberwock was in on the attack,” Kyoko answered. “No one had entered the hotel yesterday, even though he said he would. He also knew where we would be and when we would be the most vulnerable.”

“Way to pick em’, guys,” Hajime growled, sliding exhaustedly into a chair.

“But that’s what doesn’t make sense!” Makoto insisted. “He’d been working for Future Foundation almost as soon as it was established. Why would he wait this long to revolt, if he was a mole?”

Kyoko shook her head. She didn’t know, either.

Hajime put his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Sleep? Scream? Cry? “Is everyone else okay?”

“No one else was hurt, if that’s what you’re referring to,” Kyoko answered. “I wouldn’t call them ‘okay’, though. They’re frantic.”

“Why take just those five, though?” Makoto wondered. “It’s like… they had very specific targets in mind. But they seemed a bit random, don’t you think?”

“I… I’m pretty sure I was one of the targets, too,” Hajime offered slowly. “When the smoke bomb went off, I was grabbed, too. I only got away because Nagito-” His voice choked off. Because Nagito sacrificed himself for him. Like the clueless, lucky, sweet, dumbass that he was. Hajime wanted to pass out again.

“So if we replace Nagito with you in our missing persons list...” Kyoko’s eyebrows raised a fraction. “There is a pattern.”

Hajime nodded, forlorn. “It’s because…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...you four, plus Hajime, were the survivors of the Jabberwock killing game,” Nagito theorized.

“So, we know why we were taken,” Sonia said, thinking. “But what do they need with the survivors?”

“Also, who are they ?” Kazuichi asked.

Nagito sighed. He shouldn’t have been surprised that he wasn’t much help.

“And why did they take Nagito, too?” Akane wondered.

“‘Cause he gave himself up to save Hajime, duh,” Kazuichi said, before grumbling, “Not the rest of us, though…”

“Yeah, but they could have just left him there too, right?” Akane said. “Or they could have nabbed Hajime back again.”

“As long as I was awake, they wouldn’t have been able to take Hajime from me,” Nagito replied immediately. Whether that be because of luck or because of his utterly devoted stubbornness, he wasn’t sure. “And I’m sure it would have taken too long to knock me out, drop me, and grab Hajime again.”

“They probably took you as some sort of hostage, then,” Fuyuhiko said. “As a trade for him.”

Nagito chuckled. “What a terrible idea. That’s nowhere near an equal bargain.”

“I’m just saying, that’s what we woulda done.” Fuyuhiko shrugged. “The Yakuza, I mean.”

Maybe it was the stress, or the combination of words and concepts, that caused a brief memory to flash through Nagito’s head. 

Back in the simulation, back when Hajime and him were one-sided enemies, it struck Nagito as odd whenever Hajime would devote his precious time to keep him company. He had said that it was because he was a coward, afraid of what Nagito would do if he was left alone. Nagito wondered if that peace of mind was worth it, having to be in his terrible presence for any amount of time. But Nagito still took advantage of it, pretending that Hajime didn’t despise him. During one of these outings, for whatever reason, Nagito had felt like sharing more than he usually did. He decided to tell the other about his parents, killed by a freak meteorite accident on a hijacked airplane. He decided to tell him about when he was kidnapped, only released when his attacker realized there would be no one to pay a ransom.

Airplane, kidnapped, Hajime.

Helicopter, hostage, Hajime.

Being held hostage on a helicopter, Hajime as the ransom that would never, should never, be paid. 

“Ha,” Nagito said.

“What was that?” Sonia looked at him with concern.

“Ha!” Nagito choked out again, his vision starting to blur.

“Nagito-”

And then he was on the ground, laughing, cackling, tears forced out of his eyes and pooling onto the ground. His hair stuck to the wetness on his cheeks in ropes, as if his own body was trying to strangle him.

“I’m glad you think this is funny, asshole,” Fuyuhiko snapped at the boy rocking on the floor.

It wasn’t funny. Not at all. But Nagito found that sometimes, his body just didn’t respond to emotions the way it should. He cried when he should be happy. He got angry when he was supposed to be sad. He laughed when he was supposed to be scared.

Trauma would do that, wouldn’t it?

Kazuichi, Fuyuhiko, and even Sonia, looked at him in aversion and shock, with various levels of subtlety. But instead of scooting away, Akane inched closer.

“I don’t think he’s laughing,” Akane noted, leaning forward for a better look. Nagito couldn’t stop.

“Wha- Don’t you have ears!?” Kazuichi squawked. He looked like he was one second away from opening the door back up and making a graceful exit.

“Okay, he’s laughing , but he definitely ain’t having a good time,” Akane explained.

Akane didn’t strike Nagito as a very emotionally-intelligent (or even regularly-intelligent) person. But then again, the girl had been through her own fair share of adversity, hadn’t she? Of course she would know what a breakdown could look like. Nagito always did have a problem with being quick to judge people. He would have told her he was sorry about that, if he was able to shut up for two seconds.

“He did this all the time during that stupid game, though,” Kazuichi said.

“Yeah, well, maybe he wasn’t happy then either,” Akane replied, before nudging Nagito with her knee. “You okay, dude?”

Obviously not. He kept laughing. Laughing and crying.

“Do you need anything?”

“Out,” Nagito gasped out between giggles.

“That’s, uh… That’s fair.” Akane shifted uncomfortably.

For maybe thirty minutes, things stayed the same: Nagito writhing on the ground in false mirth, while his four other classmates looked on, pretending not to see the display. He didn’t know if it was out of respect or discomfort, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

The laughter only stopped when the door to the cockpit opened and a man stepped out, his gun aimed purposefully at Nagito’s head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting for his classmates to wake up from an artificially-induced sleep. What a torturous, familiar concept.

Hajime wasn’t sure why he was the first to wake up from the chloroform. Maybe it was from a smaller dosage, or an Izuru-ability, or sheer willpower. But he almost wished he hadn’t regained consciousness before the other three; at least then, he wouldn’t be forced to wait to get information that only they knew.

Imposter was the first to stir. Unsurprisingly so; from the information he gave, he was most likely the first one to be drugged.

“I was patrolling. It had been maybe… twenty minutes, when I arrived at the airport,” Imposter said. He was still woozy and tucked into his hospital bed, but he agreed to talk to Hajime, Makoto, and Kyoko for their investigation.

Investigation. Hajime was really tired of that word.

“I thought I heard a helicopter approaching, which is why I stopped, but I couldn’t say for certain. And then someone had forced a rag over my face,” Imposter recalled. “I didn’t see much. I’m sorry, I’m not much help.”

“Not necessarily,” Kyoko said, holding a finger to her chin. “If you were right about another helicopter approaching at that very moment, that would explain why so many people were able to get here without us noticing.”

Hajime nodded grimly. “Imposter was the lookout, so he got knocked out before he could warn us.”

“By our pilot, who was already at the airport,” Makoto concluded. He didn’t look happy with this latest development.

Nekomaru was next to wake up, with an almighty roar that sent Mikan running and squealing away. 

“WHO ATTACKED ME!?” He bellowed as soon as Hajime hurried into the room.

“We don’t know,” Hajime answered tiredly. 

“Did they hurt anyone else?!” Nekomaru demanded. 

This was going to be difficult. “...yes.” Hajime admitted. “Imposter, Peko, and Gundham were knocked out, too. And they kidnapped Nagito, Fuyuhiko, Sonia, Kazuichi, and…” he winced. “...Akane.”

He wondered if Nekomaru would slump over in defeat, or rage harder. 

It was the latter. 

“I’M GONNA-!” Nekomaru yanked himself out of bed, before toppling over. Hajime tried to pull out an Ultimate Weight Lifter talent in time, but his head smacked on the floor as the very heavy man landed on him. 

“She’s gonna…! Be fine…!” Hajime squeaked out from under the weight. 

Nekomaru got off him before burying his face in his hands, but his head rose back up with a look of absolute determination. “You’re right! I’ve trained her excellently. If anyone can protect themself, it’s her!”

“Exactly,” Hajime replied, trying not to show the amount of pain he was in. “And we’re going after them as soon as we have a ride. But right now, we need to get as much information as we can.”

Nekomaru nodded, and gave his account. 

Judging by what he had said, the attackers had been strong, and smart. Not only that, but it almost seemed like they had known Nekomaru’s literally-fatal flaw: his inability to watch his back. This was no spur of the moment attack; it was preplanned, and thoroughly so. 

As soon as Hajime left the room, he met with Makoto, exiting the room across from him. 

“Gundham’s awake!” He reported excitedly. 

Hajime and Makoto’s deductions about the strange men, as described by Gundham and Nekomaru, were relatively the same: they were strong, smart, and prepared. 

“Gundham was… extremely worried about Sonia,” Makoto said solemnly. “I told him she was probably still with Fuyuhiko and Akane, who’d be able to protect her.” He raised a confused eyebrow. “He wasn’t really worried about that, though. He said that… he’d trained Sonia extensively in the ‘dark arts’...?”

“You didn’t try to change his mind about that, did you?” Hajime asked. 

Makoto shook his head quickly. “Nope. Too scared to.”

“Good.”

At that moment, they heard the sharp click of heels on the tile floor as Kyoko made her way towards them. Her expression didn’t look much, if at all, different than usual, but Makoto hurried to her side. 

“What’s wrong?” He demanded. Makoto seemed very in tune with the girl’s emotions. Hajime would have thought it was kind of cute, if he weren’t so stressed. 

“Peko,” Kyoko answered immediately. “She’s gone.” 

The three hurried down the hallway and out the door, before finding Peko speeding towards the cottages. She probably would have gotten further, had it not been for the residual chloroform in her system and the bandages around her body. 

Hajime grabbed the shoulder of her uninjured arm. “Peko, stop-”

The girl immediately spun around, the point of her bamboo sword pressed against his Adam’s apple. “Where. Is. He?” She growled. 

This seems familiar, Hajime thought. 

He held her blade between his thumb and forefinger, regarding her coolly, red eye flashing. “Put the sword down, Peko. You know you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

The weapon was reluctantly lowered, a fierce glare on the woman’s face.

“Good,” Hajime said, before shaking off the uncharacteristically cold confidence. “Fuyuhiko’s been kidnapped. Same with four others. To the best of our knowledge, no one’s been seriously injured. We don’t know by who, we’re unable to go after them. We need you to tell us everything you know about them.”

Hajime kept his words short, quick, concise. Peko wasn’t the type to appreciate flourish or false reassurance. She nodded. 

“When I exited the Tycoon last night for fresh air, I could feel people lurking nearby. They didn’t show themselves, so I tried to lure them out,” Peko recounted. “Technically, it worked, but I think they were only pretending to fall for it.”

That added up; if they had gathered information on the students beforehand, of course they would know about Peko’s strategies. 

“There were six men in total, but only one had attacked me head-on. He was a distraction. I killed him easily, but once he had my attention, the rest attacked,” she continued. Her hand unconsciously touched her wrist, and winced at the memory. 

“So, it was for a cause they were willing to die for,” Makoto murmured. 

Peko shook her head. “I don’t think it was quite like that. There was no passion, no fulfillment in his eyes.” She looked down. It made sense why she would know what to look for. After all, giving her life for a cause was exactly what she had done in the simulation. She’d sacrificed herself for Fuyuhiko. “It was almost like… he was a robot. He had one purpose, one that he was programmed to do. There was no personal connection.”

“Programmed…” Kyoko muttered to herself, before her eyes widened. “Of course. That’s why our pilot’s motivations changed so suddenly.”

“What do you mean?” Hajime asked, furrowing his brows.

“They had all been brainwashed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nagito blinked up at the barrel of the gun, pointed to his forehead. 

“You’re distracting the pilot,” the man said. Nagito was lightly surprised. It was the first time he’d heard any of their kidnappers speak. “You hold no direct relevance to the mission. If you prove to be more of a liability than you’re worth, you’ll be disposed of.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Fuyuhiko said, scooting next to Nagito. “The guy’s just freaking out! What the fuck did you expect?!”

“Thank you, Fuyuhiko!” Nagito smiled. It was very kind, and unexpected, for the boy to come to his aid. 

The man simply cocked the gun, but it was the glint of a key ring in his pocket that caught Nagito’s attention. 

Wait a minute. 

A plan started to hatch in his head. He couldn’t pride himself on much, but scheming seemed to be his newfound area of expertise. Even though he’d been caught, Nagito’s murder plots of Imposter and, well, himself, were complicated enough to stump his classmates for an impressive portion of the class trials. Even Hajime. 

Nagito just hoped that he could get the message across to the others. But first, he needed to do something else that he was quite good at.

Talking about utter nonsense. 

“I’d understand why you would consider someone like me a liability,” Nagito told the man cheerfully. “I’ve become quite used to it, after all. Just looking at my face must be terribly horrifying for you. I’ve even soiled your vehicle. How utterly indecent!” Nagito nodded towards the sick in the corner. The man’s eyes stayed trained on him. 

“Nagito, shut the fuck up!” Fuyuhiko hissed at him. He was ignored. 

“Ah, you won’t look? That’s alright. After all, I wouldn’t want to be the reason to dampen the wonderful hope inside of you. It’s surely the reason you all are so dedicated to the cause!”

The four other students winced. But Nagito caught Sonia’s eye. He glanced between her and the captor’s keys as subtly as he could. She followed his line of sight and nodded. Good. 

Nagito kept on babbling. “You know, I’ve missed that terribly. We’ve had it so easy back on Jabberwock. But where’s the hope in a monotonous life? How can you have highs when there are no lows to compare it to? It’s utterly disgusting. ”

Now Kazuichi. It took him longer to comprehend, but thank God he understood Nagito’s silent command. He pushed himself quietly up against the door’s keyboard lock and waited. 

“I think I would rather you shoot me. I’m so bored with it all. Plus, I serve no purpose for you. If the goal is to trade my life for Hajime Hinata’s, you’ll never succeed. Our values are nowhere near equal.” Nagito inched closer to the gun and closed his eyes. “Proceed.”

Nothing, then…

Click!

Nagito opened one eye. The man was staring at his jammed gun in confusion. 

Phew. 

Nagito chuckled. “Go ahead.”

Sonia immediately lurched forward, catching the key ring in her teeth. The man slammed his boot into her face and pushed her down, but her target had been yanked from him, still clamped in her mouth. 

At the same time, Kazuichi’s fingers flew across the keys, and the door opened. He rolled away as fast as he could as Akane swiftly caught onto the situation. With an almighty two-legged kick, the man was shoved out the door; falling, falling, falling still. 

The students stared at their handiwork in quiet shock. 

“I’m quite good at planning these sorts of things, aren’t I?” Nagito broke the silence cheerfully. 

A very macabre statement. No one disagreed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As much as Hajime loved her, Nami was loud . 

The poor dog didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t know where Nagito was, she didn’t know why everyone was so quiet, she didn’t know why Hajime had kept her in his cottage for the night instead of her owner’s. 

At first, it seemed like Nami was excited about an impromptu change of plans. When Hajime patted his bed for her to come up, she did so willingly, tail wagging wildly and paws on his chest. But after about ten minutes of her sitting on the edge of the mattress, she eventually hopped off, scratching and whining at the door. 

And hadn’t stopped for about an hour now. 

Hajime shoved his pillow over his ears, but it did nothing to block the sound. Not that it mattered; sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. 

Instead, he climbed out of bed and slid down onto the floor next to Nami. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to escort her back to where she should be, but he just ran his hand through the fur on her back. 

Hajime doubted that being a stray during the Tragedy was terribly fun. It was probably horribly traumatic. Nami should have been a lot more aggressive, or distrustful, but the way Nagito treated her had done wonders. 

Of course it had. Because that was the kind of person he was, wasn’t it?

Hajime knew that people couldn’t change overnight. And people couldn’t change much over just three weeks, either. It looked like Nagito had; there were less outbursts, kinder words, shorter hope and self-deprecation rants. 

His mindset hadn’t been altered; the way he portrayed himself had. 

Nagito had always been… good, hadn’t he? Selfless. Sweet. Borderline innocent. He just had difficulty showing it. 

Back in the game, Hajime claimed to try to understand the other. But had he, really? There was no analyzing or interpreting on his part. He just listened for and noted the crazy talk, only to confirm his preexisting biases. 

Hajime and Nagito had started to make up when they danced at the party, but those two minutes of kindness didn’t hold a candle to the harshness Hajime had treated him with in the simulation. Even how he’d treated him just two days ago. 

But even so, Nagito had saved Hajime, because that was the kind of person he was. 

And Hajime had used Nagito to help himself. Because that was the type of person he was. 

Nami cried. 

Hajime did, too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once he’d been freed from the handcuffs, Nagito rubbed the sore spot on his wrist. For once, he was glad that he only had feeling in one arm. 

Fuyuhiko had managed to use the stolen key to unlock his own binds before helping the others. It was quite impressive, the way he and Kazuichi could utilize their talents with their hands literally tied behind their backs. 

“As wonderful as it is to move again… what are we going to do now?” Sonia asked as she stood up. There was mud on her face in the vague shape of a footprint. Nagito winced. That would surely bruise. 

“That’s right. We’re still stupid-high in the air,” Akane remembered. 

“Yeah, but we’re gonna land eventually,” Fuyuhiko replied. “When they open the door, we’ll be able to jump them. They’ll be expecting us to still be bound up; we can use the surprise to our advantage.”

“Okay, but what if they’ve got weapons?” Kazuichi protested. 

“I’m sorry, do you have a better idea?” Fuyuhiko snapped. 

As they argued, Nagito had begun searching through the boxes crowding them in the room. What he was looking for, he wasn’t sure. Weapons, maybe? Food? Or…

He grinned. Parachutes. Out of all the crates, the first one he had checked contained what would help them the most. 

Lucky!

However, there were only two. 

Unlucky. 

He was about to announce the good/bad news, when a blaring alarm pierced the air. 

“Augh, what the fuck?!” Akane screamed, her hands clamped down over her ears. Nagito mimicked her position. 

“Oh, the door!” Sonia called. The light above the opening was violently flashing red to the beat of the noise. 

“I got it, I got it!” Kazuichi yelled, fingers flying over the button once more. Once the hatch was shut, the noise cutoff, leaving only a painful ringing in Nagito’s head. 

But the group barely got in a sigh of relief before the cockpit door opened once more, and bullets sprayed into the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...ime…”

Hajime groaned. He’d just fallen asleep. Was it morning already…?

“...jime…!”

He opened his bleary eyes. No, it was still dark. What woke him up?

“Hajime!”

The voice finally registered, and Hajime jolted upright. 

Nagito. 

“Hajime, help!” Nagito’s voice called, somewhere out his window. 

The words were strangely distorted, but they were, without a doubt, his . It should have been impossible. It couldn’t be possible. But what if…?

Nami growled dangerously, her hackles raised. 

“Yeah, I know it’s a trap. But what the fuck else am I supposed to do?” Hajime answered the dog. 

After slipping on his shoes and grabbing his gun, Hajime slipped out the door, Nami slinking behind him. 

“Hajime, please! Help!” Not-Nagito yelled. 

Hajime gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, becoming the Ultimate Tracker. 

He scanned the ground and saw infrared footprints. But if they were as recent as he thought, they were much too cold. 

And much, much too small. 

Of course. 

“Hajime, help! Help, Hajime!” It cried again, but it wasn’t Nagito. It was the sick, shrill voice that frequented Hajime’s nightmares. 

The Monokuma bot lunged from the darkness, claws unsheathed and aimed for Hajime’s throat. 

He dodged to the side and the bear zoomed past. Hajime’s trigger finger twitched, but the memory of the last one’s detonation stopped him from acting on it. He needed to destroy it, but first he needed it away from his sleeping friends. 

“Come get me, fucker,” Hajime snarled. 

He didn’t know if the Monokuma was advanced enough to understand speech, but it certainly obliged. Sick laughs and mechanical footsteps tore through the night as it gave chase. Nami ran beside Hajime, barking viciously. 

Once the pavement turned into beach sand, Hajime turned on his heel to take aim. The Monokuma waddled at a surprising speed, its movements wobbling it back and forth, but Hajime only wasted one bullet to shoot it square in one stupid, beady eye. 

As soon as the warning beeps sounded, Hajime hefted it up. Good God , it was heavy, but it needed to go. 

Hajime wasn’t sure which talent helped him, but he managed to launch the Monokuma into the horizon before it was reduced to fireworks over the water. 

He sunk to his knees, Nami licking his face in relief. How did the damned thing get on the island? The first one had arrived via-

Hajime’s eyes widened. 

Helicopter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The five hostages pressed themselves against the helicopter walls, out of the way of the assault. 

“Is there someone else in the cockpit?!” Sonia cried. 

Akane tilted her head as far as she dared. “Nope, that’s the pilot shooting at us!”

“The pilot-?!” Kazuichi screeched. 

Sure enough, their attacker had his eyes trained to the sky, but his gun was pointed backwards, shooting at them randomly and wildly. 

Sonia gasped. “Why-?!”

“Because the door was open too long. He knows we killed his associate,” Nagito explained calmly. “We’re all liabilities, now.”

“Shit. Shit. Okay,” Fuyuhiko muttered, psyching himself up.

Before charging into the cockpit. 

“Fuyuhiko!” Sonia screamed. 

But the boy was an expert. A bullet grazed his shoulder, but he got his hands on the weapon. The pilot neglected the helicopter’s controls as the two struggled, but his own gun, still in his hands, was jammed to the side of his head. His own finger was forced onto the trigger. One last shot fired before the pilot slumped over, the window painted with red. 

Fuyuhiko let out a cheer. 

And then the helicopter plummeted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You can’t stop me from going,” Hajime said. 

What was left of the Jabberwock residents, plus the five Future Foundation members, were gathered on the airport runway… in front of the abandoned helicopter that had brought the Monokuma. 

“Are you trying to say that the Monokuma, which had purposefully lured you out of your cottage, and had left you a vehicle to escape, isn’t a trap?” Byakuya tested, narrowing his eyes. 

Hajime seemed to be an expert at falling into traps on purpose, lately. 

“I hate to admit it, but he’s got a point,” Hina said. “What if they’re trying to lure you away?”

“Or they’re gonna just blow you out of the sky!” Hiro panicked. 

“Yeah, sure, maybe.” Probably. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing while they’re…” Hajime didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He didn't want to think about what might be happening. 

“Hajime, you won’t be any help to them hurt,” Mahiru spoke gently. 

He glared. “Well, I’m not any help to them sitting on my ass, either.”

Kyoko frowned. “Hajime-”

“Wanna stop me? Why don’t you try?” Hajime challenged. He was seething. “But I’m the only one here who knows how to fly this thing.”

No one spoke. 

“I didn’t call you all here to try and get you to come with me, or even support my decision. I just…” Hajime shook his head. “It’s so you’ll know where I am, when you wake up in the morning, and I’m gone.”

“Hajime,” Gundham started. He braced for more protests, but instead, his friend stepped forward. “I demand you take me with you.”

Hajime blinked. “Huh?”

“I, too, refuse to stay still as my Dark Queen is taken farther and farther from me,” Gundham said solemnly. “I will see to it, first-hand, that we retrieve her.”

Peko advanced as well. “I swore an oath to always protect the young-” She stopped herself. “...to protect Fuyuhiko. I may not be his tool anymore, but I am still his. And I will be his until my last breath.”

If it was anyone but Peko, he would protest. She was still heavily wounded from the ambush, and who knew how dangerous things would get?

But, this was Peko. 

Hajime gave a quick smile to the two volunteers, before looking around the crowd. “Anyone else?”

He glanced semi-expectantly at Nekomaru, but the man shook his head. 

“I love Akane, and it’s painful to say, but…” Nekomaru sighed heavily, then looked up. “We need a fighter here. On Jabberwock, in case we get invaded again. And Akane can protect herself better than I ever could.” He grinned, pained but proud. 

“We’ll come, too!” Makoto announced from behind Hajime. 

“It’s dangerous, and maybe stupid, but I must admit, I’m curious,” Kyoko said, a small smile on her face. Makoto beamed at her. 

Embarrassingly enough, Hajime felt tears start to bead up again. His heart felt full , and proud. He wasn’t alone. They were doing this together. 

And he turned to Nami, who had been waiting patiently by his side. He kneeled next to her and ruffled her ears. 

“I’m gonna get your dad back, okay? I promise,” Hajime whispered to the dog. “I promise. ”

Someone slammed into him, squeezing him into a very tight hug. 

“We’ll take care of Nami-Mami, okay?” Ibuki said. “Go get her Nagichan.”

Hajime smiled.

He would save them.

He would save him . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ WHY DID YOU KILL THE PILOT?!” Kazuichi shrieked. 

“Did you want to ask him politely to stop shooting?!” Fuyuhiko yelled back. 

“If anyone knows how to fly a helicopter, speak up!” Akane yelled. 

“Yeah, sure, if you didn’t BLOW UP THE STEERING WHEEL!”

Nagito braced against the wall. They were rocketing forward, angled towards the Earth. The vehicle shook violently as it fell, with no controls to stabilize it. 

His eyes fell to the crate he had been digging through before. 

Nagito teetered towards it and searched, before handing one of the parachute packs to Kazuichi. 

“Put this on, and hold onto Fuyuhiko.”

He pushed the other towards Akane. “You, and Sonia.”

Fuyuhiko nodded quickly. “Okay, okay. Good.”

“Where is the third?” Sonia asked. 

Nagito smiled. 

Kazuichi’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, wait. There’s only two?!”

“Grab onto Fuyuhiko!” Akane insisted. “He’s small!”

Nagito shook his head. “The packs say that the weight limit is only 260 pounds. Having two people per parachute is already pushing it.”

“Are you telling us to leave you?!” Fuyuhiko demanded. They were still falling, faster and faster. This needed to be wrapped up quickly. 

“You four are too important.” Nagito explained kindly. “We all know this. You have people to go back to.”

Tears shone in Sonia’s eyes. “So do-”

The helicopter jerked, nearly knocking them off their feet.

Fuyuhiko cursed, then grabbed Nagito’s shoulder. “Thanks, Nagito,” He said. “You’re family, okay?” 

Nagito couldn’t respond. 

“We’ll remember you, dude!” Kazuichi said as he slapped him on the back. And then the two boys disappeared out the door, the taller one letting out an embarrassing scream. 

Akane yanked Nagito into a brief bear hug. “Sorry about being a jackass to you.”

“It’s fine,” Nagito squeaked out. 

Akane moved towards the door, but Sonia stood still. Her blonde hair was waving erratically with the turbulence. 

“Nagito-”

“Sonia, you have to go,” Nagito interrupted her gently. 

“I…” She bit her lip, and spoke. “Do you want me to tell Hajime anything for you?”

Nagito blanked.

Hajime. 

It wasn’t a good time to think about Hajime. Because if anything could make him regret his decision, his sacrifice, it would be Hajime. It would be the thought of never seeing him again. Never making him smile, or blush, or laugh, or even yell again. Never dancing with him again. 

Never holding him. Not one time.

Nagito’s throat constricted.

But then again, if Nagito hadn’t given himself up in the other’s place, then Hajime would be here instead. He would be the one making the decision to put the others before himself.

Because he would. 

Nagito smiled, and shook his head. “Nothing he doesn’t already know.”

“ SONIA, we have to GO!” Akane shouted. 

The princess stepped forward and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you. I’m sorry,” she whispered. She gave a small yelp when Akane yanked her out, and then Nagito was alone. 

He poked his head out the door. Far behind him, he saw one parachute open, soon followed by the second.

Good.

Nagito walked into the cockpit leisurely, and surveyed the controls. It was a bunch of mechanical nonsense. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“I don’t know how to fly a helicopter!” Nagito chuckled to the corpse next to him. 

And so, Nagito stumbled back once more, and laid down, the wind roaring around him. 

He closed his eyes and thought of pleasant things. 

Warm beaches; tall, majestic mountains. 

Fields full of sunflowers; blue, blue skies. 

Nami. His new friends.

Hajime. Hajime. Hajime. 

Nagito smiled, and waited for the rumbling to stop. 

Chapter Text

Sonia was silent as she free-fell through the sky. 

The wind pushed back against her violently, drying her tears before they even had the chance to fall. Her hair tangled around Akane, who had her arms looped under the princess’s, locking her into place.

Sonia glanced upward into the inappropriately-cheerful blue sky. She saw a tuft of wild, white hair poke out the plummeting helicopter’s door, before her view was obstructed by orange fabric. Her body was jerked painfully as their descent was abruptly slowed by their parachute.

She begged to every god Gundham had told her about for the helicopter to slow and regain control. For Nagito to find a way to stop the vehicle from dragging him down.

But Sonia’s pleas were cruelly ignored as the helicopter zoomed farther and farther until it blipped out of sight.

The two girls hit the ground ungracefully, the parachute choking out the sun as it blanketed heavily around them. 

“Okay, I know that everything’s super bad right now, but holy shit I wanna do that again!” Akane whooped as soon as she freed herself. 

Sonia couldn’t find it in herself to respond, just stared at the ground with eyes stuck open. She felt tears start to roll down her cheeks, before the dam broke, pushing her to her knees to sob. 

Guilt immediately crossed Akane’s face. “Oh, jeez. Sorry, it’s just adrenaline, or something!” She apologized profusely before pulling the other girl into a bone-crushing hug. Her shoulder was quickly soaked with tears.

Sonia knew that falling apart and blubbering on someone wasn’t something a princess should do. She needed to have composure, and poise, and perfected emotional control. But she had stopped trying to act like the princess she was for quite a while now.

Why hadn’t she tried harder to let Nagito be saved, too? Maybe they could have tried to regain control over the helicopter, or looked harder for more parachutes, or gotten him to hang onto Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi.

Or to even ask to take his place as the lone sacrifice in the crashing helicopter.

How selfish they all were.

Sonia cried harder.

It was only until sobs had been reduced to sniffles when Akane let go of her. Sonia wiped her eyes and finally looked around at their surroundings.

They had landed in an expanse of woods. Or, it used to be. It looked like a wildfire had consumed the area; the dirt was bare of vegetation, and trees had been reduced to charred stumps. The apparent deforestation didn’t come as much of a shock, though. Frankly, after the Tragedy, Sonia would have been surprised if any area in the world had remained unscathed. But the wreckage’s juxtaposition against the blue sky was disturbing. She was still getting used to the absence of red on the horizon, and seeing the results of the current despair mixed with the sky of the past felt like a sick violation of her memories.

“Pretty disturbing, isn’t it?” Akane muttered.

Sonia didn’t know if she was referring to the woods, the sky, or the situation. Either way, she agreed.

“At least it won’t be as hard finding the guys, though,” Akane continued.

That’s right. Sonia and Akane had taken much longer to jump than the other two. How far away Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were from them was anyone’s guess.

“...Yes. We need to look for them,” Sonia finally spoke up, her voice hoarse and nasally from crying. 

“We shouldn’t try calling for them, either. We don’t know what’s out here,” Akane suggested. She was right. Even though it was daytime, anything could be lurking in the woods; they were still in a post-apocalyptic world.

Sonia pointed behind the other. “From the direction that the helicopter came from, I believe they should be somewhere that way. We should start-”

“ MISS SONIA!? AKANE!?”

They flinched. So much for stealth.

“Over here!” Akane called back. 

Soon, the two boys emerged from the scorched woods. 

“I told you not to yell, jackass,” Fuyuhiko grumbled. 

“Why does it-” Kazuichi started, before he and Fuyuhiko were swept into a fierce hug. 

“I am so glad you are safe,” Sonia sighed in relief. She released them, Kazuichi a blushing, bumbling mess, and Fuyuhiko wincing and grabbing at his arm. 

Sonia frowned. “Fuyuhiko, are you-?”

Then she noticed the blood seeping from his left shoulder. 

“Oh shit. What happened?” Akane asked, walking closer to try to examine the wound. The boy slapped her hand away. 

“Got shot back in the cockpit,” he explained, keeping a grip on his arm. “Not too deep, but it hurts like a son of a bitch.”

Sonia thought, then gripped the hem of her dress and tore, ripping a sizable piece of fabric from the skirt. At least the dress was already ruined. 

After tying the makeshift bandage around Fuyuhiko’s wound, she stood back to admire her handiwork. It was nowhere near perfect, and definitely not sanitary, but it would have to do. 

“So, what now?” Akane asked no one in particular. It was a valid question.

“Oh!” Kazuichi piped up. When we were falling, I saw a buncha lights. Like maybe a town or something? It looked pretty far away, but...”

“It’s better than nothing?” Akane finished.

Kazuichi nodded.

Sonia frowned. “I do not remember seeing anything like that. Where was it?”

Kazuichi thought, then pointed. “I think, like, this way. It was in the opposite direction of where the helicopter…” his voice quieted. “You know, where the helicopter.... was going.”

Where the helicopter was falling. Where Nagito was falling.

The group went silent, all of their minds going to the same, mournful place.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Akane asked softly.

“He’s a lucky bastard. That’s his whole schtick. I’m sure he…” Fuyuhiko trailed off.

But the helicopter had been falling too fast, too chaotically. Nagito was lucky, but there had to be a limit on how much it protected him.

Sonia wanted so desperately for Nagito to be safe, for them all to get a chance to apologize to him properly and actually make an effort at kindness towards him. But she was scared of assuming the best, and getting crushed if she was wrong.

Sonia was scared to hope .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So… how does it work?” Makoto asked.

Hajime looked at him in surprise. “How does what work?”

Makoto gestured vaguely to the controls in front of them.

Hajime lost track of how long he, Makoto, Kyoko, Gundham, and Peko had been in the air. It had certainly been over two hours; they’d taken off while it was dark out, but now the sun was up and illuminating the left side of the helicopter. Hajime would have felt better about their travel time if he knew for a fact that they were going the right way. All they had to go off of was seeing which direction the hostage-filled helicopter had gone. 

Hajime tried not to think about how little thought went into the plan. 

“You want me to show you how to fly a helicopter?” Hajime asked, confused. 

“Oh, no! I just wanted to know how you knew all this stuff,” Makoto corrected. “Have you flown one of these before?”

“Nope.” Unless Izuru took one for a joyride at some point.

Makoto shifted uncomfortably. 

Hajime snorted, then turned his attention to the dashboard. “I dunno. I just look at the controls, and I just… know what to do,” he attempted to explain. “It’s kinda like reading a new book. Even though you haven’t actually seen the sentences on the pages before, you can still read it, because you can put the letters into words and make meaning out of them.”

Makoto nodded, then grinned. “Well, either way, I’m happy for it. It’s super useful, huh?”

A sour feeling rolled in Hajime’s gut. He gritted his teeth. 

Yes. It was useful. 

Hajime felt like he was getting whiplash from the amount of times he flip flopped from between being grateful for Izuru’s talents, to hating the man with every fiber of his being. 

Izuru murdered people, but he was also the reason why Hajime didn’t join in on the Reserve Course’s mass suicide. 

Izuru used Hajime for things he couldn’t consent to, but Hajime was the one who let him in. 

Izuru had wrecked Nagito, emotionally and physically, but he was also the reason Hajime was able to try to save him in the first place. 

Hajime’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. 

“Hey, are… you okay?” Makoto ventured. 

Makoto was met with the most unimpressed face imaginable. 

“I mean, obviously you’re not!” Makoto quickly amended. “But just now, you… I mean, I guess Izuru’s kind of a sore subject.”

That was one way to put it. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hajime’s mouth started to shape an automatic “no”, but hesitated. 

Did he want to talk about it?

The only person who he had any semblance of an Izuru-conversation with was someone whose feelings he was desperately trying not to hurt. And it’s not like that talk turned out well either; the experience was nowhere near cathartic. 

But Makoto’s offer sounded genuine, and the other passengers were napping in the seats behind them, unable to eavesdrop. 

“... What do you know about Izuru?” Hajime finally asked. Makoto’s eyebrows raised. No wonder he was surprised; Hajime was infamously terrible at talking about his feelings.

“I don’t think there’s much more I can tell you,” Makoto admitted. “We really don’t have a lot of info on him, and I think we’ve told you everything we know.”

“Maybe hearing it again will help,” Hajime mumbled. 

Makoto nodded, and launched into the spiel again. 

Sure enough, it was nothing new.  After the collapse of Hope’s Peak, Izuru had disappeared from the radar. He was assumed to be fairly nomadic, seeing as how when he was spotted, it had always been in different places. 

Including Towa City. 

When Makoto had gathered the Remnants of Despair to ship to Jabberwock, Izuru put up no resistance, almost as if he wanted to be found. He also had managed to erase the memory of ever meeting the Remnants, from their minds and his. 

Evidently, that procedure had been reversed when the 77th class woke up from the program.

“Did you hear of Izuru ever having a… traveling partner?” Hajime asked carefully. He was breaching sensitive territory. 

Makoto frowned. “‘Traveling partner’? I doubt it. Or, I haven’t heard about him having one.”

Well then, Hajime was about to blow his fucking mind. 

“Yeah, well, he did,” he grumbled. “He met up with Nagito in Towa.”

“Really? Wow,” Makoto whistled. Then fidgeted awkwardly. “Wait, Towa? Was that before or after he…?”

It took a bit before Hajime remembered. That’s right, Nagito tried to kill Makoto’s sister, Komaru. 

Small world. 

“After,” Hajime snorted. “Make him apologize for that, by the way.”

Makoto smiled weakly, before scratching his chin in thought. “I can’t wrap my head around Izuru traveling with company, though. Not unless he could get something out of it, I mean.”

Hajime harshly bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Do… you know…?” Makoto noted the other’s change in expression. 

“Do not make me fucking say it out loud, Naegi.”

“What?” Makoto furrowed his brows, before realization dawned. His face went bright red. “O-oh! Well! I, uh-!”

“Don’t,” Hajime grunted, immediately regretting his decision to disclose. 

After a moment of painfully uncomfortable silence, Makoto hesitantly spoke up again. “I guess that explains why… back at the party, Kyoko said the two of you seemed kinda weird around each other.”

“Did she, now?” Hajime repeated dryly. 

Makoto paled, but he continued. “It looked like you were mad, or avoiding each other, or something. You seemed… off, I guess?”

“Off?” Hajime laughed bitterly. “Me and him have always been off. You watched the whole killing simulation, didn’t you?”

“I mean… you said in your reports that you made Nagito your assistant, so I just thought…” Makoto stuttered, before backpedaling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry-”

“What do you want me to say, huh?” Hajime demanded. His face felt like it was burning. Like he needed to scream. “That he was a fucking jackass back in the game, but at least he’s changed, and I’m still the same jackass that I always was? That he wanted to move forward, but I was shit to him because we both were violated? That me being a stubborn dick was rewarded, because despite everything, he thought it was worth it to save me, even if he got hurt?!” 

Hajime was so angry, so tired, so sick of it all. So sick of things being so goddamn complicated all the time.

The haze of red over his vision cleared, revealing Makoto staring straight ahead, expression unreadable. 

Hajime forced a shaky inhale. “Look, I’m… I’m sorry. That was shitty of me,” he mumbled.

It was quiet, save for the rush of air around the vehicle. Makoto bit his lip, then spoke. “I… I get it.”

Hajime raised his eyebrow.

“Back during the Future Foundation killing game, when Kyoko sacrificed herself for me, I felt…” Makoto looked at his lap. “I felt so guilty. And horrible, and dirty, and a jackass, and all that other stuff you said.”

Hajime hadn’t known about that particular killing game until it had just ended, and it took even longer for him to learn who the casualties were and what caused them. But he remembered the wristbands, and the forbidden actions, and the poison. 

Kyoko had to choose between killing the one she loved, or, to the best of her knowledge, be killed herself.

She chose the latter.

“I didn’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself because… I kept thinking, ‘Why me? If anyone deserved to live, it would be her. How could I deserve to live if she had to…’” Makoto choked off, unable to finish the thought.

“That’s not fair. You didn’t know about her forbidden action,” Hajime said softly.

Makoto smiled sadly. “It didn’t matter. Not to me.” He met Hajime’s eyes again. “But at the same time… I knew that Kyoko would be furious at me if I wasted her sacrifice just to mope. I knew that she didn’t regret her choice, and she didn’t resent me for it. And I bet… I bet Nagito felt the same way.”

Hajime kept his eyes trained on the sky, trying to will away the mysterious lump that had lodged itself in his throat.

“It was hard, but because I love Kyoko, I accepted her choice so I could be a better person,” Makoto murmured. “And because you… care about Nagito, I think you should try to do the same.”

“...I’ll…” Hajime muttered. “...I’ll try.”

There was a beat of silence, before a small chuckle sounded behind them.

“I love you, too, Makoto,” Kyoko mused.

Both boys whirled around, faces both blushing violently. If Hajime wasn’t the Ultimate Everything, the helicopter probably would have jerked off course, too.

“You… you heard all that?” Makoto squeaked, despite having dated the girl for months.

“You weren’t being quite as quiet as you thought you were,” she said with a slight smirk.

Hajime’s eyes darted to Peko and Gundham, sleeping in the back.

Kyoko laughed; a sound Hajime wasn’t very used to. “I doubt they heard anything. Or if they did, they’re very good actors.”

Hajime slumped back in his seat, relieved. Somehow, it would be eons more embarrassing to have two of his closest friends hear his outburst, rather than a less-familiar acquaintance. 

Makoto grinned, before letting out a barely-concealed yawn.

“Hey, why don’t you go to sleep, too? You should try to get some rest in before we… land, I guess,” Hajime suggested.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna just leave you alone,” Makoto protested, but the circles under his eyes betrayed him.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not really in a talking mood anyway,” Hajime assured. It wasn’t a lie, but it was more to relieve the other’s conscience.

Makoto gave a quick thank you before climbing into the seat behind him, next to Kyoko.

Hajime refocused on the path in front of him.

~~~~~

Once Makoto had settled down, Kyoko leaned her head against him, her lavender hair spilling over his shoulder. He was still getting used to the girl’s brief demonstrations of vulnerability, but by no means did he dislike it.

After making sure Hajime wasn’t listening in, Makoto leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Hey, do you think Hajime...?”

He felt her cheek shift against him as she smiled. “Definitely.”

“So it wasn’t weird to compare them to us?” Makoto asked.

Kyoko lifted her face briefly to kiss his cheek. “Not at all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the attack on Jabberwock and the resulting rescue party, the number of remaining people on the island seemed measly, with just eight islanders and three Future Foundation members. They didn’t know when their friends would return, so the jobs of the absent students needed to be redistributed as soon as possible. Hina figured that it wouldn’t be much of an issue; they were all adults, after all.

She was sorely mistaken.

“Wait, no, Ibuki’s got it!” Ibuki called out from her table. When the group had gathered in the restaurant that morning, and the impromptu meeting had started, by the recommendation of Imposter.

“Okay! Notposter is the farmer, Superhiro is the police, Nanina is the mechanic, and Better-Byakuya is the leader!” She continued.

“Police? Nah man, I’m a pacifist,” Hiro protested, hands clasped.

Hina distinctly remembered him proving the opposite back at the Hope’s Peak game. She winced at the memory.

“Also, I don’t know anything about machines. Like, at all,” Hina spoke up.

“You two always had a problem with not adapting to the situation,” Byakuya scoffed. “I don’t mind taking over Hajime’s role.”

“No, no, not you,” Ibuki corrected, then pointed to Imposter. “Him!”

Imposter smiled. “I appreciate your faith in me, Ibuki, but I’m not very good with paperwork.”

“Wait, he’s ‘Better-Byakuya’?” The real Byakuya demanded. “He was just a shameless copy!”

“Ugh, so rude,” Hiyoko heckled. “This is why you’re the worst Byakuya!”

“Yeah, I don’t really want him in charge,” Mahiru agreed. 

Teruteru was desperately trying to stop Nami from putting her paws on a table and eating his cooking. No one noticed. 

“Hey, I can actually pick up Hajime’s work!” Hina called out before the chaos could get any more… chaotic. 

“U-um… Didn’t you s-say you were bad a-at machines?” Mikan asked. 

“Yeah, but me, Byakuya, and Hiro are the foundation workers here,” Hina explained. “You shot down Byakuya. I guess there’s Hiro, too, but…”

She was met with eight shaking heads. Hiro nodded in understanding.

“Plus, Alter Ego can help!” She chirped.

“Alter… Ego?” Ryota asked.

Hina frowned. “Yeah. Don’t you know him? You were Hajime’s assistant for a bit, right?”

“Captain probably didn’t need any help from some robot!” Nekomaru grinned in pride. 

“ You were some robot, too,” Byakuya pointed out. The larger man’s smile somewhat faltered. 

“Alter Ego’s not really a robot. He’s more like… a computer program…?” Hina thought. 

“There’s… a person in the computer…?” Mahiru raised her eyebrows. 

And that was how eight people, plus Hina, ended up crammed into Hajime’s office, crowded around his computer.

Hina felt a bit bad about digging through Hajime’s files without his permission, but if she was to take on his workload, there wasn’t much she could do in terms of privacy. Thankfully, he hadn’t uninstalled Alter Ego, and instead dragged the program folder into a little lonely corner of his desktop. Once she clicked in the icon, a face filled the screen, the spitting image of little Chihiro Fujisaki. 

“Hello, Hina!” Alter Ego greeted, a sweet smile on his face. 

Before Hina could respond, Ibuki shoved her face in front of the screen. “Whoa! It really is a person in a computer!” 

“You’re Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician, right? It’s nice to meet you!” Alter Ego said. 

Ibuki gasped. “You know Ibuki’s name?!”

Hina laughed. “Yeah. Alter Ego probably read through the info on everyone once I started him up.”

“Really? That’s so advanced,” Mahiru mused. 

“Well, he was made by the Ultimate Programmer,” Hina explained. 

“That was… Chihiro Fujisaki, right?” Imposter guessed. 

Hina nodded. Hearing Chihiro’s name out loud still made her heart feel a pang of sadness. Same with everyone who was lost to the 78th class. But every night, Hina repeated their names over and over in her head like a prayer: Sayaka, Leon, Chihiro, Mondo, Taka, Hifumi, Celeste. 

Sakura. 

Hina tried her hardest to be positive, and to not let herself forget them, but sometimes it was hard not to feel at least a little bitter towards the 77th class. They had their own killing game, yes, but at least they were able to see their departed again. She really hoped they didn’t take it for granted. 

“Well, then, what else can you do, cutie?” Teruteru asked, shaking Hina out of her gloomy thoughts. 

She wasn’t sure if he was talking to Alter Ego or Hina, but the former spoke up. 

“Lots of stuff! I can find any information you need on the internet in seconds, I can recover data that’s been lost for years, I can scan the map for any anomalies, and I can even replicate other people,” Alter Ego said. His face shifted into Makoto’s. “See?”

“Wait.” Hina lit up with an idea. “Maybe you could help us find our friends! Can you track any helicopters that have left here recently?”

Chihiro’s face replaced Makoto’s on the screen once again. “Hmm…” Alter Ego’s eyes closed for a second. “I can see one heading south, 427.2 miles from Jabberwock, but there’s no others within a two day’s travel distance.”

“That’s probably Hajime’s helicopter, then,” Ryota said. “I think they left around four this morning.”

That meant that the helicopter that took the others had probably already landed. At least they weren’t taken too far, but it also meant that their whereabouts were still completely unknown. 

“Hmm… That’s strange…” Alter Ego murmured. He rotated slightly, like he was cocking his head. “There seems to be an abnormally large input and output of electrical energy coming from Aozora City, but I can’t seem to find the reason why.”

“Um, didn’t you just say that you could find out whatever you wanted?” Hiyoko said.

“Usually, yes. But whenever I start to get close to anything that might be related to what may be causing the overflow, I get blocked off. The data’s been heavily encrypted.” Alter Ego’s eyebrows drew together.

“C-could it be the F-Future Foundation?” Mikan ventured.

Hina shook her head. “We get briefed on all the big projects the foundation takes on. And this sounds pretty big to me.”

What could possibly warrant that much energy, and that much secrecy from the Future Foundation? Whoever was behind it had enough resources to stump even the Ultimate Programmer’s pride and joy.

Hina had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, wasn’t good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sonia, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Akane had been walking for hours. And more hours. And even more hours after that.

Luckily, there had still been ponds and puddles left in the charred woods, and Akane knew how to filter the water to make it (somewhat) drinkable, but it was still wretched to choke down. They also had no food; any vegetation had been gone for who-knows-how-long, and no animal dared to step foot in the uncovered wilderness.

After about an hour of silence, Kazuichi finally plopped on the ground. “Alright, I’m calling it,” he grumbled.

“You’re what?” Fuyuhiko narrowly avoided stepping on the other’s leg.

“We’ve been walking for like, the whole day. We’re starving. We’re tired. We don’t even know if we’re still going the right way!” Kazuichi pointed out.

“But heading to the town was your idea, was it not?” Sonia questioned.

“Yeah, but it looked a lot closer when we were super high up!”

“So you wanna just give up? Even if we stop walking, we’re still gonna starve!” Akane argued.

“I’m not saying we should give up, I just think we should take a goddamn break!” Kazuichi shot back.

Sonia thought. It was true that it wasn’t wise to stop for too long; every minute they spent in the woods, the higher the risk that they got caught and the longer they went without sustenance. But at the same time, it would do no good to use up all their strength too soon.

So, she made a decision and perched on the ground next to Kazuichi. “I agree. If we push ourselves too far, we will lose motivation to keep going. We need to preserve our energy if we are to make it to our destination.”

Akane shrugged, and plopped down, too, as did Fuyuhiko, albeit more reluctantly.

Sonia scooted until her back touched the ground, far past the point of caring if her clothes got dirty. Her legs and spine and feet felt like they wanted to cry with relief at the well-deserved break. She closed her eyes against the afternoon sun. If the circumstances weren’t so miserable, Sonia probably would have enjoyed the moment. With no birds to sing or leaves to rustle in the wind, all was quiet, save for the muted sounds of her friends’ breathing. 

...and the unmistakable chopping of a helicopter in the distance. 

Sonia bolted upright. “Do you hear that?”

Fuyuhiko sat up. “Do we hear…?” He repeated, then jumped to his feet. “Oh shit, it’s a helicopter.”

The aircraft in question was easily visible and heading towards them. It was at a low enough height that whoever was in it would be able to see the four students on the ground, especially without the cover of foliage. 

But it was also low enough for Sonia to see the two white F’s painted on the side. 

“Future Foundation! Future Foundation!” She exclaimed.

“Fuck yeah, we’re saved!” Kazuichi whooped.

“Uh, unless it’s a trap. Or another hijacked copter,” Akane pointed out.

“Yeah, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Kazuichi rushed out. “I need something shiny, anyone got anything shiny?”

Sonia swiftly removed one of her earrings and handed it over. Once it was in his hand, Kazuichi angled it toward the sun; three quick jerks, then three long, then three more quick. He repeated.

“The fuck are you doing?” Fuyuhiko looked like he was ready to bolt, hand reaching for the gun he didn’t have.

“It’s a sun signal! S.O.S! S.O.S!” Kazuichi yelled, as if their visitors in the sky had any chance of hearing him.

But to Sonia’s simultaneous relief and fear, the helicopter slowed over them, before circling downward. 

“Fuck. Okay,” Fuyuhiko muttered, holding his arms out to back all of them up. “Be on your feet, get ready to run.”

The group held their breath as the vehicle touched down on treeless ground, the slowing blades whipping up dirt and pulling at their hair.

The thick tension in the air was broken by a wonderfully familiar bellow.

“My Dark Queen, I have found you!”

A happy shriek ripped its way out of Sonia’s throat as she raced to meet Gundham. As soon as he was close enough, she leaped into his open arms and clutched at his cloak, feet dangling above the ground, tears falling freely.

“I have my strongest faith in your abilities,” Gundham murmured. “But still, I refused to rest until I could hold you once more.”

“Me too,” Sonia giggled at his poetic words, hugging tighter. She felt four little hamster noses on the cheek pressed against Gundham’s scarf, before the Dark Devas took their places on her shoulders. They squeaked happily as they nibbled at her hair.

Sonia opened her dampened eyes to look over Gundham’s shoulder. Peko was fussing over Fuyuhiko, one hand checking the wound on his shoulder, and the other grasping his tightly. The boy was beaming, his ecstatic expression a sharp contrast to the stoic mask he was so insistent on wearing. Kyoko and Makoto were grinning under the painful embrace that Akane had forced onto them. Then Akane let go, joining Kazuichi in bear-hugging…

...Hajime, who was laughing in delirious exhaustion and relief. None the wiser.

Sonia’s eyes filled back up.

She lightly tapped Gundham’s back to tell him to set her down, and handed him back the Devas. Akane and Kazuichi caught her sight, and the grins dropped from their faces as they realized what had to be done. Sonia took their place, pulling Hajime into a gentle hug.

“Hey, Sonia! You have no idea how glad I am that you guys are okay, I was fucking worried sick!” Hajime pulled back, face bright, not noticing the change in the air.

He quickly scanned the area, the joyful look unfaltering. “Where’s Nagito? We didn’t scare him away, did we?”

Sonia squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks becoming more and more flooded. This was hard. So, so hard.

A hand touched her arm. “Sonia…? Are you okay? What-?”

Sonia took a deep breath, and met his gaze, trying not to break down then and there.

Realization filled him slowly, replacing the color on his face with a gaunt white. “Sonia...Where’s Nagito?”

Despite her effort, a hiccup escaped Sonia’s lips.

“Where…?” His voice fell into a hoarse whisper.

Sonia took a shaky breath, willing herself to speak. “We… we were in a helicopter. There was… an accident, and we started to crash. We found parachutes, but…” she bit her lip harshly, blood welling up under her teeth. “...there were only two. We wanted to make it work, we really, really did, but Nagito… he wanted us to save ourselves. He sacrificed himself, and we…” Her voice cut off, dissolving into wordless sobs.

Hajime stared blankly at a space over her head for what seemed like ages. His mouth barely moved as he spoke again. “...You did this.”

Sonia blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Pure, unadulterated fury came over his expression as he backed up like a cornered wildcat, regarding the four other survivors with piercing rage. “ You all did this! You made him stay up there so you could save your own sorry asses! You hated him, don’t you fucking try to deny it!”

Fuyuhiko’s uncovered eye flashed as he advanced towards Hajime. “How dare you accuse us of doing that shit! The five of us went through literal hell together! We trusted each other during that goddamn game, you should know us better! But no, you still can’t ever see past your fucking hero complex, can you, to see that we never fucking hated- ”

Hajime shoved Fuyuhiko brutally, nearly knocking the boy over. “Don’t test me-!”

“Don’t fucking touch me-!”

“Stop, stop!” Sonia cried, pushing herself between the two. “Please, he wouldn’t…! He wouldn’t want this…!”

Hajime’s and Fuyuhiko’s chests heaved under her hands as she held them apart. Finally, Fuyuhiko broke away, his glare still locked onto the other. Hajime stayed put, and Sonia turned to face him, blocking the other from his view. Hajime’s eyes shot unsteadily to her, still swirling in borderline madness.

Sonia’s mind raced to find the right words, then settled. “Hajime, I… before we… left, I asked Nagito if… If he had anything he wanted to say to you.”

Lucid surprise briefly crossed his face. 

“And he said…” Sonia paused.

“Nothing he doesn’t already know.”

But sometimes, things that you already know are the exact words you need to hear.

“...He said that he loves you.”

And that was when Hajime Hinata broke.

The fury and the violence left his body in a strangled sound of grief. Horrible despair overtook his features in its place. He stumbled backwards. Sank to his knees. Buried his face in his hands.

And wept.

~~~~~

But not for long.

White-hot determination burned away the grief as Hajime pushed back up off the ground. His vision was still blurred and swamped, but he didn’t break his stride back to the helicopter.

“Hajime, what…?” Makoto questioned, voice thick with emotion.

“Nagito’s not dead,” Hajime replied flatly, not slowing as he swung himself into the pilot’s seat.

Kazuichi took a hesitant step forward. “I… I know it’s hard, man, but-”

“Have you all forgotten. That he. Is lucky?” The rage was threatening to come back, chopping up his sentence into a harsh cadence. “We’re going to look for him, and find him, and take him back from this god-awful place.”

“We don’t know where to look. He could be anywhere,” Peko pointed out.

“I guess I’ll fucking figure it out, then!” Hajime was losing his temper again, quickly. He didn’t care.

“Haj-”

“Either you get in this thing and come with me, or I go alone and leave you all here until I find him,” Hajime threatened.

There was a beat of tense silence before the eight others filed inside, expressions filled with various levels of anger, hurt, sadness, and pity. Maybe they thought that if Hajime left, he’d never come back.

Because he’d never find who he was looking for.

Makoto sat carefully in the co-pilot seat. As the blades spun again and they started to take to the air, he finally spoke up, in a cautious whisper. “So, um… where are we going to go?”

“The helicopter was traveling south, in a straight line. We’re going to go south, in a straight line. We’ll keep our eyes to the ground and look for…” The wreckage , Hajime’s mind finished for him. He gritted his teeth.

His friend gave a quiet nod.

And they did just that.

They flew throughout the day, into the night. The cabin was almost torturously quiet, save for a few soft murmurs coming from the back. If he wanted to, Hajime could have pulled some talent out to eavesdrop, to see if they were talking about him and his futile efforts.

He didn’t.

Judging off what he was told of the speed, direction, and angle that Nagito’s helicopter had been plummeting, they should have passed the crash site hours ago. They were flying dangerously low to the ground; any hint of a wreck would have been easily spotted. 

But they didn’t see anything.

So they kept going.

Judging from the amount of time it took for anyone to speak up, Hajime must have scared them out of their wits; as if they thought any amount of pushback would get them shoved out the door. But eventually, Kyoko leaned forward, putting a soft, gloved hand on his shoulder. “Hajime, we need to land. It’s three in the morning, and you haven’t slept in over a day.”

Hajime stiffened, but he didn’t respond.

Makoto glanced back at Kyoko. “Yeah. We can keep looking in the morning, right? It’ll be easier to see when the sun’s out, and when you’re less tired.”

Their tones weren’t honest; they were full of the kind of pity a parent put on when their child couldn’t find his favorite toy. They just wanted him to land, and sleep, and wake up with a reasonable attitude. One that could be convinced to leave Nagito behind.

But as much as he wanted to keep at it, Hajime’s body was breaking down. There was no such thing as the Ultimate Insomniac, and crashing this helicopter too would help no one.

Seemingly-simultaneous sighs of relief sounded from the passengers, reverberating across the cabin, as the helicopter circled down, and landed on a cul-de-sac in some abandoned neighborhood. They probably could have searched around for an empty house to set up base in for the night, but that required the energy that the group severely lacked. So instead, the eight settled down in the cramped helicopter, like a flying mobile home.

“Don’t bullshit me. As soon as the sun comes up, we’re gonna keep looking,” Hajime muttered to Makoto. But the boy had already curled up in his chair, looking like he passed out as soon as his head hit the armrest. Hajime wondered if he was faking it to get out of an uncomfortable conversation. It was anyone’s guess.

Hajime said he would sleep, and he really should have, but he remained sitting up, ready to take flight again at a moment’s notice. His mind, now undistracted, swirled with horrid thoughts and images. In the nighttime darkness in front of him, he saw Nagito. He saw his bloodied, tortured body the same way he’d been found in the warehouse in the killing game. But instead of the boyish face of the seventeen-year-old he was petrified of, Hajime saw the Nagito he knew now; the sharper, filled-out features of the man he grew to trust and care for.

And instead of the burnt-up warehouse, that broken body was surrounded by the wreckage of the helicopter that had carried him off in Hajime’s place.

Hajime wanted him to be alive. He needed him to be. But…

“The greatest despair comes from crushing the biggest hopes,” he heard Junko Enoshima coo in his inner ear. Hajime buried his head in his arms, trying to will away the desire to pull out his hair and scream.

“But the brightest hope rises from the darkest despair,” the Nagito in his mind whispered back.

And for some reason, the reminder of the boy’s favorite motto released a tidal wave of memories of conversations past.

“Hajime? Hajime. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Be happy, huh?”

“I loved you long before I remembered who you used to be.”

“You said you were here. With me. Don’t go.”

“I know that you don’t matter at all, so why do I care about you?”

“From the bottom of my heart… I am truly in love with the hope that sleeps inside of you.”

And how cruel it was that it was now, when everyone assumed Nagito was dead, that Hajime had his epiphany.

Why Hajime felt so at peace with Nagito when he first woke up on Jabberwock. Why every betrayal and display of insanity made him feel like his world was falling apart. Why Nagito’s death in the simulation filled him not only with disgust, but with piercing grief and heartbreak. Why Nagito’s rejection of his friendship hurt so much.

Hajime was in love with Nagito.

He always had been, hadn’t he?

Chapter Text

He was hanging upside down from a telephone pole by his shoelaces, about fifty feet in the air, but Nagito Komaeda was very much alive. 

Though, he wasn’t quite sure how he got into this particular situation. One minute, Nagito had been lounging in the back of a helicopter plummeting to the Earth, waiting for his inevitable demise. The next, he had felt the vehicle swerve wildly off course, rolling him out the open door like an untethered suitcase. At some point during his own free-fall, he passed out, and judging by the borderline-unbearable pressure in his head from the upside-down blood rush, he’d been out for a while.

Grimacing, Nagito attempted to pull his body up, cursing himself for not attempting to strengthen his core since… ever. The metal pole was too high up for his out-of-shape self to grab, and the pain in his nonexistent abs was worse than the blood rush. So, he relaxed himself again, waving in the wind like an abandoned piece of fabric.

He frowned up at his shoelaces. Sure, he was lucky to an unbelievable degree, but this seemed a bit much. How had the laces gotten this conveniently-tangled? How were they still intact? Why did Nagito have an intense desire to forgo his usual zippered shoes on the day of the party? Maybe it was from the combined fortune of two impossibly lucky individuals. 

Despite the circumstances, the thought made Nagito grin. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around why Hajime wanted him alive, but it warmed his heart nonetheless.

And that was when his shoelaces broke.

Nagito squeaked as he fell yet again, head first. But instead of hitting the brutal concrete, he was enveloped by the smell of rotting something as it softened the impact.

He blinked up in confusion. He’d landed in a dumpster, stuffed with very pungent, but very full, garbage bags.

“Of course!” He laughed, delicately pulling a crushed cup of ramen out of his hair.

After a hearty jump, Nagito, along with several sacks of filth, spilled out of the dumpster. As much as he detested being dirty, he figured it wasn’t in his place to complain too much. He regarded his surroundings as he brushed off his sweater (though, it did very little to help his current situation). 

Everything looked… strangely familiar. Something about the placement of buildings, the graffiti on the billboards, even the color palette of the city itself. Granted, the blue sky could easily be throwing him off; he’d grown long used to the world outside the island being tinted red. His legs were sore, but he continued along the direction of the road, unable to shake the discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

But then he saw it.

An overpass, partly demolished and spilling rubble into the street below. Streetlights pulled from their posts and resting in a circular design on the concrete. The Monokumas had been removed, but there was no mistaking where Nagito had ended up.

Servant was terrified because Izuru was nowhere to be seen.

The man had stolen Servant’s knife, and pushed him off the overpass they were on, into the swarmed street.

The Monokumas were gone. Servant had been protected by the Earth itself.

Izuru gripped Servant’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his face up and closer to his.

Wide, tear-stained eyes were locked open as Izuru leaned forward to press their lips together.

Nagito had landed in Towa City.

Of course!

He wasn’t sure why his episodes always caught him by surprise; it was his own body, and his triggers were obvious and predictable. But still, in the back of his mind, Nagito was a bit startled as he rasped out one laugh, then another, then another, before he was reveling in his own hysterical cacophony. It was like his soul had detached from his body, watching himself with vague curiosity as he clasped his hands over his mouth and stumbled back. His foot caught on a piece of the broken road and he fell, head smacking violently on the street.

But the pain shocked him back into the present. Giggles still sounded, but he raised his metal hand to clasp his other, mimicking an action that had done wonders in the past.

He pretended he was being comforted by another, as a voice that was so, so similar and yet so, so different from Izuru’s whispered in his mind.

“You’re safe. You’re not alone, because I’m on your side. I’m here, with and for you.”

Nagito’s gasps slowed as the cackles quieted. He gave himself a second, squeezing his eyelids shut to block out the view and push the remaining tears down his cheeks. He kept his eyes closed as he stood up, only letting himself see again once he turned around to face away from the overpass. 

After a few deep breaths, Nagito continued walking. Where he was going, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel right to sit in one place; surely that wouldn’t help anyone. So he just wandered, taking in the sights that were different enough from what he remembered to not set him off again. 

There were no screams, there were no Monokumas waddling around, there were no children playing with the corpses of parents and older siblings. By no means did the town look like it would have before the Tragedy, but truly, Towa City had improved astronomically under the care of-

A flash of deep maroon popped in Nagito’s peripheral. His eyebrows furrowed. That seemed familiar, too.

It was the only lead Nagito could go off of in terms of what to do next, so he picked up the pace as the color disappeared down an alleyway. Once he was directly behind, he knew why he had recognized that long, tangled hair. 

It was Toko Fukawa. 

Nagito was at a crossroads. Toko was someone he recognized in this city he was stranded in, and they were technically on the same side. However, their last meeting wasn’t exactly pleasant. He assisted in trying to get her beloved and her friend killed, and she had violently slashed his thighs with her infamous Genocide Jack scissors. He winced at the memory. 

As he considered, Nagito had been trailing after Toko, not wanting her to slip out of his sight before he made a decision. He settled on calling out a polite apology, but before his lips could form the words, she whirled around. 

Her eyes were red, and her tongue was sticking out at an impossible length. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Ya think I don’t know when some creepy perv is following me!?” Genocide Jack screeched. But she looked the opposite of terrified. A twisted grin split her face as she launched herself in Nagito’s direction.

His mind screamed to abort the mission as he turned tail and ran.

“Aw, leaving already? Boo, boo!” Jack heckled, hot on Nagito’s heels.

Maybe it would have been good to say something around then, but Nagito was hyper-focused on escaping, his eyes glued to the strip of light at the end of the alley. His lungs burned, but stopping seemed like a very, very bad idea.

“I know I know I know, no more crimes for lil’ old me... but Dekomaru said that self-defense was A-OK!”

Self-defense should not have been an issue, considering they were back in the street in broad daylight, but Nagito had a sneaking suspicion the girl just wanted bloodshed.

Genocide Jack was a seasoned hopefully-former serial killer, and Nagito was by no means an athlete, so it was no surprise when he felt a fist clench around the fabric on his back, popping stitches in his already-wrecked shirt. His feet skidded forward from under his halted upper body, and he flipped roughly onto his back. Jack pivoted on one heel to face him as she planted the other on his chest.

“Alright, now what’s the big i-” Jack stopped, and leaned down to get a better look. Her glasses slid down her nose, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Wait a sec, I know you!”

“Hello, Jack,” Nagito finally wheezed out. “You’re doing well, I hope?”

“What was your name again…?” She mumbled to herself, her foot still firmly planted on the other’s torso. That was going to bruise. “Slave? Minion? Leather Baby? Power Bottom?”

“Nagito,” He supplied.

“Servant, yeah yeah!” Jack cockily shoved her glasses back in place. “How are those pretty white thighs of yours holdin’ up? Come on, show mama!”

“I’d rather not,” Nagito declined politely.

“Hrmph,” Jack pouted and removed her shoe from his chest. But before Nagito could let out a sigh of relief, she gripped a fist-full of his hair and yanked his head up. “Guess we’ll just have to do good ol’ fashioned revenge!”

“Not that I particularly mind, but didn’t you promise not to kill anymore?” Nagito grimaced at the pain in his scalp.

“Aw, I can still have fun!” The scissor blades hovered dangerously close to Nagito’s captured hair. “What’re we thinkin’, sugar plum? Mullet? Buzzcut? Einstein on crack?”

None of the options seemed very pleasant; Nagito despised almost everything about himself, but his hair wasn’t something he especially hated. 

Luckily, it was then that a voice rang out, “Jack? I heard yelling! Er, more than usual! Is everything okay?” 

A fairly average-looking, brunette girl rounded the corner of the street quickly, jogging towards Jack (and Nagito, by proxy). 

“There you are! What are you-?” Komaru Naegi stopped in her tracks as her eyes met Nagito’s. “Whoa, wait a minute.”

Understandable fear crossed her face at the sight of her former enemy. 

Nagito waved cheerfully. 

********************

Komaru and Toko had found themselves a quaint little home, in lieu of the hotel they had previously taken residence in. Decorations weren’t exactly necessary, or easy to come by, at this day and age, but they seemed to make do with what they could; plucked flowers in paper cup vases, generic hotel paintings hanging on walls, worn curtains that didn’t quite fit the windows. There were also numerous tattered bookshelves that were packed to the brim and then some. 

Unfortunately, Nagito hadn’t gotten a very good look, seeing as he was tied tight to a kitchen chair. 

“S-so are we doing a ‘good cop, bad cop’ kind of thing?” Toko regarded their “guest”. Nagito was surprised how quickly Jack had agreed to switch places with Toko at Komaru’s request. Maybe once revenge was off the table, it was looking like things would be much less interesting for the killer. 

“Umm… Is that really necessary? I mean, he offered to let us tie him up so we’d feel safer,” Komaru replied.

Nagito smiled.

“You could have just s-said you wanted to be good cop,” Toko muttered, before slapping her hand on the table. “W-why are you in Towa City?! Are you here to k-kill us?!”

“No, not at all!” Nagito replied. “I arrived here purely by chance. It’s kind of a funny story, actually.”

Both girls looked like they severely doubted the last part.

“Are… you going to tell it…?” Komaru asked, when it had appeared that Nagito had stopped talking.

“Would you like me to? I didn’t want to impose,” Nagito said.

“O-obviously!” Toko snapped. “You can’t j-just say that you have a story, but not t-tell it!”

With the aggravated permission, Nagito launched into a summary of the past day: the kidnapping, the sacrifice, the impossible free-fall into Towa City. As he talked, he realized there wasn’t very much to tell; all Nagito knew was what he had gone through. Any motive or plan or perpetrator behind taking the five students hostage had yet to be revealed. 

“That wasn’t a f-funny story…” Toko grumbled.

Komaru ignored the other girl. “That’s… really terrible. I’m sorry that happened to you, Servant,” she said gently. Her words seemed strangely genuine. Easy trust and kindness seemed to run in the Naegi family.

“I’m not looking for pity,” He replied lightly. “And it’s Nagito, now.”

“Oh, uh, right. That makes sense. Nagito, then,” Komaru laughed awkwardly. To Nagito’s surprise, she walked around to the back of his chair and started working on untying the knots.

“Komaru, wh-what are you doing!?” Toko protested. “He’s dangerous!”

“Didn’t you hear him? He’s one of the good guys now! Changing for the better is kinda the Jabberwock people’s thing,” Komaru replied. Nagito rubbed one of his newly-freed arms. Even though he was the one who recommended they immobilize him, he was getting very tired of being bound up.

“How many times do I have to tell you? There can’t just be good and bad guys, morally-gray characters make things i-interesting!” Toko shot back.

“You think I’m interesting? How kind!” Nagito beamed.

“Also h-he could be lying !” She continued.

“Well, why don’t we just call Hajime Hinata to see if he’s telling the truth?” Komaru suggested.

Nagito’s head whipped towards her. “You can do that?” He blurted.

Komaru looked taken back by the sudden outburst. “Yes…?”

In the flurry of events, Nagito hadn’t considered that contacting anyone from the island was even an option, but if it was… 

“I don’t want to ask too much, but can we? It’s very important.” He tried very hard not to beg. Nagito had been taken in Hajime’s place, yes, but what if there was another attack? What if he had gotten hurt, and Nagito’s efforts were in vain?

Toko and Komaru exchanged a confused glance; surely, his eagerness was highly suspicious. But evidently, they couldn’t find a reason not to do what he asked, as Komaru left to grab her computer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Ryota, five more sets, you can do it!” 

“Is this…! Really…! Necessary…?”

“Sound body, sound mind! Let’s go, let’s go!”

Hina figured that taking over Hajime’s workload would be dull, but good God was it torture. She and Alter Ego had been working diligently for what felt like forever, but when she glanced at the clock, only an hour had passed. The room had been silent, save for the rustle of papers, the tapping of keys, and the very occasional question and answer from Alter Ego. But then the little ball of pent up energy inside of Hina popped, and the two workers were now on the floor of the office; Ryota on his 45th sit-up, Hina holding his feet down and cheering.

“Hina! There’s an incoming call from Toko Fukawa and Komaru Naegi,” Alter Ego alerted. His screen was facing the two of them, in order to give Ryota one more digital cheerleader.

“Oh! Got it. Ryota, take a couple laps around the cottages, and we’ll start right back up again when I’m done,” Hina ordered. That looked like the last thing he wanted to do, but his will was even weaker than his body, so he reluctantly huffed and puffed out the door.

Forgoing the desk chair to avoid back strain, Hina stood in front of the computer and clicked to accept the call. The window expanded, filling her screen with the sitting figures of Toko, Komaru, and-

“Oh my God, Nagito! You’re okay!” Hina gushed. “Are Fuyuhiko and Sonia and Akane and Kazuichi with you?”

“No,” Nagito replied simply. He looked… disappointed? “Where is Hajime?”

“Hey, no, me first! If they’re not with you, where are they?” Hina demanded.

Nagito narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Komaru interrupted. “Hey! Um… we don’t technically know where they are. But they’re probably safe. Probably?”

“Well, what happened, then?” Hina was utterly confused.

“Long story short, their helicopter was going down, the other four parachuted out, but Nagito crashed with it,” Komaru explained.

“You crashed!? How are you-!? ” Hina sputtered, then stopped. “Wait, you’re lucky. Hey, how come Makoto doesn’t have super weird luck, too?”

“Where’s Hajime?” Nagito asked again.

“S-so that means that Servant is one of the J-Jabberwock people after all?” Toko asked.

“Yeah? Pretty sure we gave you the list of them like, a long time ago,” Hina frowned.

“Y-you think we read all those p-pointless Future Foundation emails?” Toko grumbled. 

Komaru shrugged apologetically.

Hina huffed. Why was she surprised? “You guys-”

Nagito interrupted with uncharacteristically thin patience. “Where. Is. Haj-”

“Hajime! Right,” Hina clapped. “He, Makoto, Kyoko, Peko, and Gundham went off to find you guys.”

“They did…?” Nagito gaped, like Hina had told him that someone was donating him a kidney. “That’s… he… Is he okay?”

Hina raised her eyebrow at the word choice: ‘he’, not ‘they’. Nagito had always seemed like a bit of an odd duck to her. “Umm… let me see.” 

Hina turned her attention to the A.I. “Hey Alter Ego, where’s Makoto’s helicopter now?”

“They are 671.7 miles away, still heading south,” he chirped in response.

“Yup! They’re still flying,” Hina relayed. “Hey, Makoto probably has his computer with him. I can use it to talk to Hajime and tell him where you-”

“No, we can do that,” Nagito interrupted again, hand reaching forward to disconnect the call.

“Wait wait wait! Before you go!” Hina rushed out. “Do you guys know anything about Aozora City?”

“Aozora City?” Komaru repeated, looking at Toko. Nagito reluctantly sat back down. “Pretty sure that’s the next town over, right?”

Hina brightened up. “Really? Something seriously weird is going on down there, with electricity and stuff. Do you know anything about it?”

“We don’t know anything a-about that, we don’t really l-leave Towa at all,” Toko said.

“Huh…” Hina murmured. “Well, it was worth a-”

 Nagito disconnected the call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“H-hey! You can’t just hang up on someone l-like that!” Toko scolded once Hina had been booted off the screen.

That was a social decency that Nagito had already known, for once, but his brain was too jittery to acknowledge it. He’d feel bad and apologize later, but now was not the time.

“Let’s call Makoto,” he said, nudging the computer back over to Komaru. The startled girl reached for the keyboard, but Toko stopped her.

“Don’t j-just let him push you around l-like that!” Toko insisted angrily, and turned her attention to Nagito. “Say s-sorry and ask nicely , and m- maybe we’ll call Makoto.”

Nagito gritted his teeth. He didn’t have time for this. “I’m very sorry, Komaru. Please call Makoto so I can speak with Hajime. ”

“Yeah, no problem!” Komaru agreed quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Toko rolled her eyes at the other’s swift compliance, but Nagito caught the little, grateful smile Komaru gave her. 

When Makoto had finally been dialed up, Nagito yanked the computer off the table and into his lap, staring intently at the screen and ignoring Toko’s noise of protest.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

And seven more until the noise stopped, and the words “unable to connect” flashed across the screen.

Komaru winced. “Maybe they’re still-”

Nagito clicked the “try call again” button.

Ten more rings, and another “unable to connect”.

Toko pulled the computer out of Nagito’s hands before he was able to try again. “C-calling him over and over again, back-to-back, isn’t going t-to do anything.”

Instead of answering, Nagito let out an extremely-drawn out groan as he slumped over, bonking his head on the table.

“D-did he deflate?” Toko poked his head. He groaned again.

“Hey, it’s alright! Look!” Komaru said with false cheer to cover discomfort, nudging Nagito to get his attention. He tilted his face to look at the screen. “‘Nagito… is… safe… call ASAP’,” Komaru read out as she typed a message.

“They won’t call back if it’s about me,” Nagito replied morosely.

“Um… okay!” Komaru tried to conceal the look of bewildered nervousness on her expression. “‘Very important message, call ASAP’?”

Nagito nodded, still hunched over, hair still splayed across the table.

“How about you stay with us until they come and get you?” Komaru continued.

Both Toko and Nagito shot her a look of disbelief.

“A-absolutely not! N-no way!” Toko refused in outrage. “D-do you have the memory of a g-goldfish!?”

“Look at him! We can’t just kick him out like this!” Komaru argued. Nagito glanced down at himself. He wasn’t sure he liked how she phrased her defense.

“Yes we can; he doesn’t have a c-collar anymore, he’s literally a s-stray!”

Nagito rubbed his neck instinctively. He definitely didn’t like that phrasing.

Komaru grabbed Toko’s arm and dragged her into the kitchen, out of Nagito’s earshot. 

Sighing, he fell back into his slumped position, dejectedly trying the call again. Ten rings, and “unable to connect”.

The two girls reemerged after a surprisingly short amount of time. 

“F-fine, you can stay,” Toko relented grumpily. “But y-you have to stay in the spare room the entire time, and take a shower, and wear a collar.”

“Not the last one,” Komaru corrected.

“You want me to take a shower…?” Nagito frowned. “I don’t want to impose.” As if he hadn’t already hoarded their computer with an inappropriate amount of entitlement.

“You fell into a d-dumpster, right?”

“Yes, why?” Nagito asked.

“W-we can tell.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe it would be easier to call everyone with the walkie-talkies about Aozora City and updates on their classmates, but Hina decided that she’d much rather talk in person, running around the island to blow off steam. Though, Ryota worked up the courage to politely request to stay in the office.

Eventually, Hina made her way into the library, occupied by Byakuya.

“Hey, Notposter, do you know anything about Aozora City?” She asked.

Byakuya glared. “If you call me that again, I will personally see to it that you get fired from Future Foundation.”

Hina laughed. Byakuya’s cold exterior had shown very little signs of cracking, but she had to try, right? “Yeah, yeah.”

“Aozora City… The Togami Corporation has dealt with them in the past. What do you need to know?” Byakuya asked.

Hina relayed the information Alter Ego had told her, regarding the energy surges and the encryption. It occurred to her that maybe she should have brought the A.I. with her for a more technical explanation, though according to him, there wasn’t much more he could say.

“The excess energy is most likely caused by Kumo Tower. Aozora City is known for its informational technological prowess, with Kumo being their center of operations,” Byakuya recounted. “I believe it’s also where Makoto recruited scientists from for the Neo-World Program.”

“So… do you think they’re working on some computer thing?” Hina wondered. This was far from her area of expertise.

“Simplistically speaking, yes,” Byakuya answered. “Or it could be completely unrelated. I’m just telling you what I know about the city.”

“And you’re sure it’s not something the foundation is working on?”

He huffed. “Do you really think they’d start something like that without informing me first?”

Hina stifled an eye roll. No, she didn’t think that they would, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. It could be hard to gauge what would irritate Byakuya.

“Call Makoto or Kyoko. They might know more,” Byakuya said, turning back to his book. Hina had a feeling he stopped himself from saying the implied, “Now leave me be”. That was progress, right?

But Hina had called them, and with no response. It made sense; they were thousands of feet in the air, but it was still a bit frustrating.

She hoped Toko and Komaru had more luck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t.

Nagito dutifully obeyed his room-arrest orders, but that didn’t stop him from calling out the cracked door frequently for Komaru and Toko to try contacting Makoto again. Komaru was nice about doing what he asked, turning the screen towards him so he could see the “unable to connect” message pop up for himself. Toko was less helpful. She attempted the call three times, albeit moodily, but on Nagito’s fourth request, she refused; claiming that the computer was out of batteries. He had a feeling she was lying to get him off her back, but there was no way to prove her wrong.

It wasn’t until later, when sunlight no longer seeped through the window, that Nagito had heard from either one of the girls while he was thoughtlessly sitting on the bed. 

“Hey, Nagito? Do you want dinner?” Komaru asked through the closed door. She tried her best to be civil, but Nagito could tell that his presence still made her uneasy.

“No, thank you,” he answered back. He detested being inconvenient.

“Are you sure…? You’ve been here for hours, and you haven’t eaten anything,” She persisted.

Nagito stayed quiet.

“...When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Nagito paused. “I… don’t remember.”

Immediately, the door slammed open, a bowl of something in Komaru’s hand. 

“Poison?” Nagito inquired, pointing to the food.

“It- what? No!” Komaru pushed the bowl and a spoon into his hands. “I just don’t want anyone to starve to death on my watch!”

Nagito peered at it. It looked like soup, most likely from a can, judging by the misshapen mystery meat and mushy noodles. 

“Sorry, it’s not exactly gourmet,” Komaru apologized. “The pickings are pretty slim around here, and me and Toko can’t cook.”

Nagito had a tentative taste. It was overly-salted and stale, but it didn’t seem to be tainted with anything. Unfortunately, he was quite aware what poison would smell and taste like.

“It’s delicious,” He lied.

“Really? I mean, good!” Komaru said with a tense smile. After a beat of uncomfortable silence, she started to back up out the door. “I’ll just-”

“I’m sorry,” Nagito blurted out before she could make her escape. 

“What… was that?” Komaru asked carefully.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” Nagito clarified. The world was a bit clearer now that there was food in his stomach, and with the clarity came guilt.

“Oh, don’t worry about it! You’re worried about your friend, I get it,” Komaru dismissed with a wave of her hand. 

“I meant… before,” Nagito corrected. The girl’s eyes widened. “For putting you in danger. And Toko. And Byakuya. And… well, everybody.”

Komaru chewed her lip and studied the ground before responding. “...I don’t wanna say that it’s okay, because I still feel… you know.” Angry? Disgusted? Terrified? “But I know that you’re part of the Jabberwock group. That meant you were brainwashed then, but you’re different now.”

“Not different. Not really,” Nagito admitted. “I was very much the same in the killing simulation as I was when I was under the influence of despair.”

“How?” She asked. For some reason, Komaru had yet to run away. 

“Hmm,” Nagito thought, leaning back on his hands. The soup was half-eaten, but fully ignored. “I welcomed despair for the emergence of hope, and that unwavering mindset caused me to harm those I claimed to help. I was willing, happy, to sacrifice myself for the greater good, even though my definition of good was quite different than most. If someone proved useless to me, I discarded them, some way or another.” He said. “Should I go on?”

“What about before then?” Komaru asked. 

Before? Nagito hadn’t given much thought to his life prior to the Tragedy in a while. “I… I suppose I was quiet. I tried to be kind. I was lucky, and I was… hopeful.”

In his opinion, there was much else to say about teenage Nagito Komaeda. Sure, he may have blown up part of the Hope’s Peak Academy building, but who hasn’t done something drastic to get out of a test?

“See? That sounds more like how you are, now. Or at least, how you seem to me,” Komaru pointed out. “People act… different when they’re scared. I mean, right when everything started going crazy in Towa, I was such a crybaby.” She giggled, embarrassed. 

Yes, you were , Nagito stopped himself from saying. 

“Right now, you seem… softer, I guess?” Komaru said. “Like someone I could maybe be friends with.”

“No need to flatter,” Nagito said lightheartedly. “And I’m very certain Toko feels differently.”

“I’m not trying to flatter! And no, Toko’s...” Komaru started to defend, then sighed. “Okay, maybe she refuses to call you by your actual name, and maybe she wanted your change of clothes to be a neon Hawaiian shirt and pink shorts.”

Nagito was suddenly very grateful for the sweatshirt and sweatpants that had been waiting in his room after his shower. 

“But she’s always been slow to warm up to people, and she’s still nervous about you. Can you blame her?” Komaru asked gently. No, he didn’t. “But Toko‘ll come around. I promise.”

Nagito still has severe doubts, but he decided against vocalizing them. “I wasn’t trying to ask for comfort.”

Komaru smiled. “Well, you got it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alter Ego had no information on Aozora. Ryota, Mikan, and Hiyoko hadn’t heard of it. Mahiru knew that it had a pretty skyline, Ibuki knew that there weren’t any good music venues there, Hiro heard that alien technology was being kept in the basement under Kumo Tower, and Imposter had a friend that lived there, once. Nekomaru said he didn’t know anything about “that tech crap”, and Teruteru wanted to know if “Aozora” was in the Kama Sutra. 

And of course, no word from Makoto or Kyoko. 

Hina lay awake in her motel bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it was nothing, and she was overreacting. 

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when a frantic knock at the door woke Nagito up. 

“Mm?” He replied drowsily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Makoto called back! We’re talking to him now!” Komaru announced before she was knocked back by the violently-opened door.

Nagito was very awake now. 

“Come on, come on!” She whispered with a wide grin on her face, grabbing his arm. He wondered why she was so excited; perhaps because they were going to be rid of him soon?

Toko was already sitting in front of the computer, not attempting to make conversation with the boy on the other line. It appeared she had just woken up, too. 

“Makoto!” Komaru started. She was still holding Nagito offscreen.

“Are you okay? You said it was important!” He sounded worried, but it was Makoto nonetheless. 

“Guess who just dropped in!” Komaru ignored him, before Nagito was pulled into view. “Tah-dah!”

“Hello,” Nagito waved sheepishly. 

Makoto’s eyes bugged, before a smile split his face. “Nagito! Holy crap, you’re okay! What happened?!”

As glad as he was to see his role model, Nagito had more pressing matters. “Is Haj-”

“Hold up, did you say ‘Nagito’?” Someone squawked. Akane? That meant-

“You’re alive!” Sonia cried, as she took the computer from Makoto. Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Kazuichi crowded around. 

“Thank God,” Nagito sighed happily. He’d done the right thing after all; he’d saved them.

“That’s our line, holy shit!” Fuyuhiko beamed. “We were so fucking worried!”

“I’m so sorry!” Kazuichi bawled. “Why did you let me be such a dickwad to you?! Next time you see me, punch me!”

“Super hard!” Akane crowed. 

Nagito felt like he was going to burst with joy. They weren’t just safe. They were… happy to see him? Or perhaps they were acting. That was probably it. 

“I missed-” Nagito started, before another voice interrupted. 

“We’ve waited long enough, we need to get going.”

Nagito’s heart skipped a beat. It was him . But something sounded off; was he angry?

“He’s okay, Nagito’s okay!” Sonia sobbed. 

And then the computer was yanked away from her. The image was motion-blurred, before it settled on the face of-

“Hajime!” Nagito sing-songed. 

“You’re- you-!” Hajime stuttered. “This is you, right?!”

Nagito frowned, self-consciously running his fingers through his bedhead. “This is Nagito. I’m sorry for my appearance, I just woke up.” He smiled. “But how are y-?”

“I knew you were alive, I knew it! They tried to get me to stop looking, but I refused. We looked all day and most of the night, I swear to God!” Hajime raged. 

A wave of guilt filled Nagito’s stomach before he turned his gaze. “I’m very sorry. I said I didn’t want to upset you anymore, didn’t I?”

“‘Upset’? Jesus, I’m not mad at you, I’m just…” Hajime messily wiped his face with his arm and sniffled. His eyes looked pink, too. Did he have allergies? “...I’m just really glad you’re safe, yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re safe, too,” Nagito whispered back, his own eyes feeling a bit watery. 

“He is safe, by the way,” Komaru piped up, leaning down by the camera. At some point, Nagito had taken the computer off the table and into his lap, blocking Komaru and Toko from view. “We took him in when he landed in Towa.”

“...Towa?” Uneasy recognition took his expression. Nagito had a sinking feeling he knew where the other’s mind had gone to. “Fuck. Are you okay, man?”

No. Every second here is nostalgic torture. 

“Never been better!” Nagito replied cheerily. 

Hajime didn’t look convinced, but he dropped it. “Also, you landed ? What the fuck even happened?”

As Nagito explained, he watched the rainbow of emotions cross the other’s face. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t entertaining; Hajime was adorably terrible at concealing his expressions. There were constant interruptions as well; Hajime fussed over him like a mother, punctuating each event with a “holy shit” or an “are you okay” or an “I’m sorry”. Tears were becoming more of a threat.

Once Nagito was done talking and had been caught up to speed himself, Hajime nodded. “Towa City. Okay. We’ll come get you-“

“No, no,” Nagito interrupted. “I’ve already put you all through so much, I don’t want you to have to go out of your way to-”

Hajime protested before Toko did. “What the- of course we’re getting you, dumbass! Didn’t you hear how worried everyone was?!”

Nagito tried to hide a smile.

“You are going to stay in that house until we get there, and you are going to stay safe. Hear me?” Hajime demanded. 

“Anything for you,” Nagito replied, the grin in full force. 

“Alright,” Hajime sighed, rubbing his forehead. “The sooner we hang up, the sooner I’ll be there. So l’m gonna say bye now, okay?”

Nagito’s face fell. Hajime was right, but at the same time…

“I love you!” Nagito said before Hajime could hang up. 

Hajime let out an odd, strangled sound, his face turning roughly tomato-colored. The usual reaction. 

“Bye!” Nagito chirped, and ended the call. 

As glad as Nagito was that he’d see Hajime soon, the proceeding quiet in the kitchen seemed much less tolerable than it had before.

“Aw!” Komaru finally cooed. “You should have told us that Hajime was your boyfriend!”

“Y-yeah, now I feel kind of bad about s-stopping you from calling him,” Toko mumbled.

“Boyfriend…?” Nagito blinked, then chuckled. “Oh no, definitely not! I assure you, my love for him is very much one-sided!”

Another terribly awkward silence fell over the room.

“One-sided? Jeez, that’s e-embarrassing to listen to,” Toko snickered.

“But wasn’t your relationship with Byakuya very much the same?” Nagito asked; innocent in tone, annoyed in nature.

Toko blinked, then scoffed. “D-damn straight it’s one-sided! He’s practically d-dying because he lost his chance with m-me!”

Nagito raised an eyebrow, fairly sure that Byakuya had looked just fine when he saw him last. But he caught Komaru’s small, lightly-arrogant smirk in the corner of his eye.

Evidently, the girls were not just friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day came and went just like the last, with Ryota dutifully tending to paperwork, and Hina conducting her own Aozora-investigation. Alter Ego didn’t have a very good read on emotions, seeing as he didn’t technically have them himself, but Hina seemed to be very uncharacteristically irritated. Still, the girl decided to leave the computer on all night for Alter Ego’s sake.

“I feel bad just shutting you away!” She had explained. 

So, Alter Ego simply watched the moon rise out the window, keeping tabs on any changes regarding Aozora, Towa, and their friends in the sky. 

He was about to chalk it up to an unnecessary precaution, when he saw an airplane pop up on the radar, heading swiftly towards Towa City. Zooming in did nothing; everything about it was encrypted in the same way everything about Aozora City was.

Alter Ego immediately sent out alerts to the six Hope’s Peak Future Foundation members, but no responses were given. Everyone was either asleep or unreachable.

So Alter Ego waited, and watched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yet again, Nagito was forced awake by someone other than himself. Even though sleep wasn’t all that necessary, seeing as he simply spent the day reading, it still struck him as rude.

“Komaru, what-” he started to say to the girl at the foot of his bed, but a hand was swiftly shoved over his mouth.

“Shh! We have to go, now! ” She hissed. “Towa’s being invaded. I don’t know by who, or what they want, but they’re attacking people!”

“Invaded…? What do you mean?” Nagito mumbled under her hand. “Isn’t it safer in the house? Hajime said-”

“They’ll find us if we stay here!” Komaru whispered urgently. “And Hajime said he wanted you to be safe , too. We’re not safe!”

Unease pricked in the back of his mind at her vagueness, but adrenaline took over when the message sunk in. Wordlessly, he followed Komaru out of the room, out of the house, into the streets.

But Nagito didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary. Maybe the invaders were still far behind? “Where’s Toko?” he whispered, still jogging after her.

“I told her to go on ahead. Don’t worry about it,” Komaru answered simply. That didn’t sound right.

Nagito finally stopped. “Komaru, are you sure we’re actually in danger?” If it was as bad as she had implied, he definitely would have seen something by now. But the night was cool and peaceful, only interrupted by their odd escape.

“Why would I lie?” Komaru tugged on his arm.

“Hyper-realistic nightmares are very common for people who have dealt with trauma,” Nagito explained slowly. “Maybe it would help to talk about it instead?”

Komaru glared and pointed behind him. “If it’s just a nightmare, then what is that?”

Colored lights flashed in the sky, heading towards them in a steady direction. Not an unfamiliar sight.

“An airplane?” Nagito frowned. “That’s… concerning, but is it cause to evacuate?” He turned back around to face Komaru, but the girl was nowhere in sight.

“Komaru? Where…?” He started to call out, before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

And there was Genocide Jack, red eyes flashing, tongue curling sinisterly. 

Nagito jerked back. How…?

“Tag, you’re it!” Jack said sweetly, before something bashed into Nagito’s head, plunging his vision into darkness.

Chapter Text

The first thing Nagito became aware of was the exploding pain in his skull. It radiated from two different sources: the right side where he had been clubbed, and right above his hairline. If he’d felt any more lucid, he’d wonder why the front of his head burned so badly. 

Even though the room was dark, his regained sight made his brain throb as his eyes fluttered open. But the silhouette in the corner was one he’d always recognize, even with his blurred vision and fuzzy mind. 

“Hajime… love…” Nagito murmured. He tried to inch forward, but he was too weak to sit up, laying on his stomach with his cheek to the cold floor.

Hajime rushed forward at the sound of his voice. “Nagito! Thank God, you’re awake. Are you okay?” 

“Head’s… exploding,” Nagito muttered, barely audible. “How are you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Hajime smiled fondly. Beautiful. 

When Nagito attempted to come closer again, the metal circling his ankles became apparent. Hajime helped Nagito into a sitting position, before gently cupping the other’s face into his hand. Nagito’s breath caught in his throat. 

“I missed you so much,” Hajime whispered. 

Nagito tilted his head, dreamily leaning into his palm, when a strange sharpness met his skin. He frowned. What was-?

And suddenly nails slashed and pulled away, gouging five violent lines into Nagito’s cheek. 

Hajime leapt to his feet, howling in laughter. “Oh, that was priceless! You should see the look on your face!”

Nagito was frozen, sticky wetness dripping down his chin. 

“Also, can we talk about what the fuck you just called me?” Hajime’s nose wrinkled, but the psychotic grin remained. “Good God, you’re never not a fucking creep, are you? ‘Hajime love, Hajime love’! You gotta tell me, is that what you scream out when you’re feeling a little extra lonely at night?” 

A dreadful heat filled Nagito’s face and singed his insides. Of course Hajime would come around and realize just how terrible Nagito truly was. But it hurt like hell all the same. 

But then Nagito’s eyes were drawn to Hajime’s hands. They looked… wrong. The nails were too long. The nails were painted red. 

Nagito knew those hands, because once upon a time, he had one that looked just like them. 

“You’re not Hajime,” Nagito stated coolly. 

The stranger smirked, the corners of their mouth curling like snakes prepared to strike.

“Clever boy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oddly enough, having a very unusual guest in the house didn’t alter Komaru’s schedule very much at all. Sure, she made sure to check in on Nagito occasionally across the day, for meals or simple (although slightly strained) conversation, but he stayed true to his room-arrest. Granted, Toko was certainly happy that he kept to himself, but Komaru almost wished that he’d pop his head out, at least for a little. After all, he’d been staying there for over two days, and his friends’ reactions to seeing him safe and sound surely disproved him from being a threat. Though, she supposed it didn’t matter too much, considering that Makoto and the others were on their way to pick Nagito up very soon.

So, Komaru woke up at seven like normal, tried not to disturb Toko like normal, took a shower like normal, and had breakfast like normal.

What wasn’t normal, however, were the four alerts from the Jabberwock Alter Ego, and the fifteen missed calls from Hina.

Uneasily, Komaru read the messages first.

“1:36 AM - Unidentified airplane spotted, heading west towards Towa City.”

“2:05 AM - Unidentified airplane in Towa City.”

“2:46 AM - Unidentified airplane departing Towa City, heading east.”

“4:02 AM - Unidentified airplane landing in Aozora City.”

Komaru wasn’t entirely sure what that would mean for them, but it didn’t sound good. 

She hurried back into the bedroom and jiggled Toko’s shoulder, but the girl just grumbled and huddled further under the covers. 

“Wake up, something weird is going on!” Komaru insisted. 

More unintelligible grumbling. 

“Toko, Toko, Toko! Airplane, airplane, airplane!” Komaru chanted, each syllable punctuated with a poke on the back. 

“Fine, fine!” Toko slapped her attacker away and rubbed her eyes. “What about a Great Dane?”

“Airplane! An airplane came in last night. I don’t know who.”

“I blame Servant.” Toko yawned, still too tired to take anything seriously. 

“Oh, stop it,” Komaru chided. She pushed glasses onto Toko’s face and pulled her up by her arm. “Let’s just ask-” Komaru started down the hall before noticing Nagito’s room door, wide open. “...him?”

Inside, the bed was uncharacteristically unmade, and the pair of shoes that were previously laid neatly by the window were gone. 

“Okay, you have to admit that’s s-suspicious!” Toko accused. 

Komaru frowned. “Nagito? Nagito! Are you in here?” She called, wandering back towards the center of the house. 

No answer. A nervous pit carved its way into her stomach. 

“Nagito!” Komaru shouted frantically, dragging Toko as she sprinted outside. But the only response given was her own voice echoing uselessly against still houses. 

“W-what are we gonna tell his b-boyfriend? Our o-one job was to keep S-Servant in the house!” Toko panicked. 

Komaru looked up to the sky, and winced. 

“Well, we better figure that out soon,” Komaru muttered, as the Future Foundation helicopter entered their view. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who are you?” Nagito asked, cold and calm. 

Not-Hajime threw a dramatic hand to his chest. “You want to get to know me? I’m flattered! Honored, really.” He laughed a very not-Hajime laugh. “Guess I’ve got no choice to reveal myself…” 

Suddenly, Nagito felt his eyes start to dry out, like someone had sent a puff of air in their direction. Nagito instinctively scrunched his eyes shut, and when he opened them-“

“You’re r-right, it was m-me all along!” Toko declared, standing where Hajime had just been. “I d-don’t trust you o-one bit, and-”

Toko sneezed. 

“And I just had to getcha gone!” Genocide Jack finished. 

Nagito was both utterly unconvinced and utterly confused. 

“What what what what?! Ya don’t buy it?!” Jack gasped, interpreting Nagito’s blank stare correctly. She chewed on her still-manicured nail thoughtfully. “Makes sense, that’s a weak-ass motive… Ooh, I know!” Jack squealed. 

A burst of wind forced another blink out of Nagito, before revealing a little green-haired girl, sitting delicately in a wheelchair. 

“Monaca is so bored of space!” Monaca Towa pouted. “Maybe if Mister Servant had been less creepy, Monaca would have stayed and became a better Junko! But you made her go so far away…”

Nagito winced. He really never was fond of that girl. 

“Oh, but if Monaca is in space, how can she be here, too? Did Monaca blow her cover?” The girl clasped her hands over her mouth. Hands that looked like Junko’s, no matter what form the stranger took. “Then again, this Monaca might be a replica! That sounds familiar, doesn’t it, meow?” Monaca laid a finger on her chin in thought.

Another blink, and...

“It sounds very familiar… I think,” Chiaki Nanami murmured sadly.

Bile rose in Nagito’s throat. He wanted to look away. Needed to. This wasn’t Chiaki. He knew it wasn’t. 

“Why did you kill me, Nagito?” She asked in her sleepy monotone. “Hajime was so sad after the fifth trial.”

She’s not real, she’s not real-

“I mean… he was sad when I was executed. You dying was more of a relief for him… I guess,” Chiaki amended. “Hajime must have really hated you when you murdered-”

“I didn’t murder you, Junko did!” Nagito burst out. He didn’t want to speak, but his sentence seemed to rip out of his throat of its own accord.

At his participation, a sadistic grin briefly twisted Chiaki’s gentle features, before she resumed her role. “But you didn’t know that during the game, right?” Chiaki tilted her head. “In your mind, you killed the real Chiaki Nanami. Don’t you think that’s just as bad?”

“You weren’t the one I was trying to kill!” Nagito insisted, his voice rough with emotion.

“Hmm… but you were trying to kill everyone else, though,” Chiaki reminded him. “That’s even worse.”

“Stop… please,” Nagito pleaded roughly. “If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it.”

Chiaki puffed her cheeks out. “You’re giving up already? But this game is fun! If we stop now, I’ll be…”

She slowly reached up and plucked her hairpin between two scarlet nails, smoothly pulling it out and into her palm.

Nagito jerked his gaze downward, trying to avoid the blink, trying to avoid what would come next.

But to no avail.

Because when his eyes opened, they rested on two polished dress shoes, curtained by impossibly long, black hair.

“...Bored,” Izuru said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t hide behind me, you’re gonna make us look worse!” Komaru hissed as the helicopter landed in front of the two girls. 

“Wh-why not? We’re already gonna look t-terrible!” Toko stammered, clutching Komaru’s arm tighter. 

“Look, just follow my lead, okay? We’ll stall and see if Nagito shows up,” Komaru said. Though, she had a strong, sneaking suspicion that if he wasn’t in the house, he wasn’t anywhere nearby. 

As soon as the engine cut off, a gangly, pink-haired man leaped out onto the concrete. 

“Holy crap , I’m tired of bein’ in one of those things!” He complained. “Let’s just take a car back, make it a road tr-“

“Hello! Welcome to Towa City!” Komaru rushed out before he could ask any questions. “We’re glad you’re here, so you can, uh… see our… progress…?” She felt Toko cringe behind her. “What’s your name?”

“Kazuichi Soda,” he answered, before flashing a smarmy, shark-toothed grin. “ Who are you?”

Nope, backpedal, Komaru thought with vague repulsion. 

Thankfully, her brother and his girlfriend exited next. 

“Makoto! Kyoko! Hey! What’s up, guys?” Komaru greeted with fake enthusiasm. 

“Um… we’re fine,” Makoto answered slowly, noting his sister’s odd tone. “Are you okay?”

But before she could answer with an “oh yeah, never been better”, the cockpit door popped open, and Hajime Hinata jogged over to them with an overwhelming look of relief on his face. “Komaru and Toko, right? I seriously can’t thank you en-“

“We lost him!” Toko blurted out. 

That didn’t take long.

“We don’t know that, though!” Komaru interrupted when Hajime opened his mouth to speak. “It’s just, when I woke up, he wasn’t in his room! Or the house. Or anywhere close by...” She tapered off.

“Well, where’d ya see him last?” A very… well-endowed girl asked. The rest of the group had filed out of the vehicle, listening in.

“His r-room! Do you r-really think we’d l-let him roam around?!” Toko snapped.

Hajime narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“No, no, we’re just cautious! I told him yesterday that he was allowed to leave!” Komaru lied. She hoped that Nagito had assumed that he was no longer terribly threatening, but she wasn’t about to mention that to Hajime.

“You let him leave?” Hajime demanded. Steam was practically coming out of his ears.

“Not the house, just his-!”

“I-it’s not our fault, y-you’re the one wh-who took S-Servant off his l-leash!” Toko accused.

Komaru could have sworn both of Hajime’s irises turned red. “Do not fucking say that shit!”

“Toko doesn’t mean that, she’s just scared!” Komaru defended, protectively backing the two of them away from the fuming boy. “We… er, I know he’s changed, but Nagito still tried to kill us, before!”

“The White One has attempted to end all of us,” A strange man commented regally, four hamsters peeking nervously out of his scarf. “You are not a unique case.”

Toko paled. “I-is that s-supposed to m-make me feel b-better!?”

“Toko. Hajime. Stop,” Kyoko commanded.

The girl had a powerful aura about her, effectively shutting the two up.

Kyoko turned to Komaru. “When did you see Nagito last? Was he acting abnormal in any way?”

Komaru thought. “Maybe, like, seven last night? I gave him his dinner, we talked a little about the manga I lent him, he told me about how he was excited to see you all. Just small stuff. I don’t think he was acting weird.” Weirder than normal, that is.

“Wh-what about the airplane?” Toko muttered, to Komaru only. 

“That’s right, airplane! We got a bunch of alerts from the Jabberwock Alter Ego. Apparently last night, an airplane arrived and left from Towa!” Komaru recalled. “And there were fifteen calls from Hina.”

“Fifteen?” A blonde girl exclaimed with a slight Novoselic accent. “That sounds important!”

“Maybe it’s related,” a swordswoman suggested.

“Alright,” Kyoko nodded. “Toko and Komaru: contact Hina and see what she has to say. Makoto, Sonia, and Akane: search the house. Hajime, Peko, and Gundham: search outside. Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, and I will search Nagito’s room.”

After quickly committing those names to memory as best she could, Komaru took Toko to talk to Hina, who’d coincidentally attempted to call them three more times since. 

“Oh, so now you wanna talk about Aozora City!” Hina exploded when she answered the call on the first ring. 

Komaru flinched. “Sorry, we were super busy, we didn’t mean to ignore you, we… Nagito’s missing!”

The indignant look on Hina’s face dropped quickly. “Wait, again?!”

On the other line, a faint male voice sounded, too soft to make out. But Hina gasped. 

“Oh no. Oh geez. That makes sense,” she fretted. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” Toko asked. 

“You got the alerts from Alter Ego about the plane, right?” Hina checked. “Don’t you think that it was weird how small the amount of time it spent in Towa was?”

“I… I guess. I didn’t really pay that much attention to the times,” Komaru answered.

“Thirty minutes. Sounds like just enough time to pick something up. To pick someone up?” Hina prompted. 

“Oh. Oh no,” Komaru winced. Nagito had gotten kidnapped ? Again? Under her watch?

“Plus, the plane stopped in Aozora, and I bet that’s where it came from, too,” Hina continued. “And with everything weird happening around there…”

Before Komaru or Toko could add on, the swordswoman, Peko, hurried through the door. 

“We’ve found something.”

Toko picked up the laptop, with Hina still onscreen, and the eight people in the house followed Peko outside and into the street. There, Gundham was peering over Hajime, who was crouched on the ground and examining the concrete.

“B-blood!” Toko squeaked, her knees starting to buckle. Komaru swiftly spun the girl around to face her away. Toko fainting and reawakening as Genocide Jack was the last thing they needed. 

Hajime nodded, his back to them, examining the aforementioned splatter. “It’s dried, but it’s not that old. Maybe about five hours.”

“What? How do you…?” Komaru started, then caught a glimpse of his face. His skin was pale with stress, but his expression was blank and clinical, his left eye almost glowing. That’s right; he was Izuru Kamukura in there, too, wasn’t he?

“It’s not enough for this to have been a fatal blow, either,” Kyoko continued, kneeling down as well. “From the undisturbed blood pattern, it looks like it could be from blunt force trauma.”

“Undisturbed?” Komaru questioned, then stepped closer. Fortunately (or, perhaps unfortunately), the sight of blood was one that she had gotten used to. What she wasn’t used to, however, was the strange drawing of a misshapen blob, like a child’s grotesque finger painting.

“Wait, you said that the blood’s from five hours ago, right?” Hina’s voice buzzed from the computer. “That’s right about when the plane from Aozora got there!” 

The implications were getting much clearer, and much worse.

“So… maybe Nagito went outside last night, got knocked out, and taken back to Aozora?” Makoto suggested.

“How often d-does that guy g-get kidnapped?” Toko mumbled.

“But why would Nagito go outside in the first place? And why was he taken?” Sonia wondered.

“It’s probably the same bastards that took us ,” Fuyuhiko said.

“And if he’s in Aozora, that still tells us next to nothin’,” Kazuichi added. “I went there once for a tour of Kumo Tower, and it took me like an hour to find a damn bus station!”

Fuyuhiko’s head jerked up. “That’s where he is.”

“Wha… The bus station?” Kazuichi asked incredulously.

“No, dumbass, Kumo Tower!” Fuyuhiko glared at him, then pointed out the odd bloody symbol. “‘Kumo’ means ‘cloud’. That is a cloud.”

It seemed a bit of a stretch to Komaru, but he sounded confident. 

“Your logic is sound, but why would the fiend leave a clue, if not to lead us right to their trap?” Gundham asked.

“That’s why,” Peko answered. “To lead us to a trap.”

“Looks like it,” Hajime said. “Let’s go to Aozora.”

Komaru gawked at his complete disregard of logic. But instead of protesting, the rest of his group followed him quietly back to the helicopter. Komaru wondered if they were used to being ruthlessly bossed around by him. At the moment, she wasn’t quite sure what Nagito even saw in the boy. But it was the undercurrent of guilt and sympathy that made her speak.

“Hey, wait!” Komaru called. “Me and Toko can come, too!”

“W-wha… Y-you can’t just d-decide stupid s-stuff like that, O-Omaru!” Toko protested.

Hajime ignored her, and kept walking. Komaru gritted her teeth and ran after him, dragging an unwilling Toko with her.

“I’m worried about Nagito, too!” She insisted. Hajime paused, and she took it as an invitation. “Plus, he told me that the first helicopter on the island had a Monokuma bot, right? Those are super hard for people to fight off. But not for me and Toko!”

“...Fine,” Hajime finally responded. Before Komaru could reply, he turned around and scowled at Toko. “But make sure she behaves.”

Toko bristled. “I-I’ll behave if y-your d-dog behaves-”

Komaru clapped a hand over Toko’s mouth. “Yup! No problem, you won’t even know we’re here! Until we’re needed, I mean!”

Hajime deemed that sufficient, and climbed back into the helicopter cockpit.

“This is s-so stupid,” Toko stressed as Komaru hurried to grab her megaphone gun. “And it l-looked super c-cramped in there, with e-eleven people.”

Komaru bumped the other’s shoulder with hers. “Hey, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, okay?”

Toko looked like Komaru had suggested she eat a year-old piece of cheese. “A-are you s-serious!? Of c-course I’m c-coming with you!”

Komaru grinned and kissed Toko on the cheek.

“Good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sweat and blood dripped down Nagito’s face as he fixed his gaze to the floor, numb, shocked static filling his brain as he tried not to break down on the spot.

“After all this time, you refuse to look me in the eye,” Izuru regarded the shaking boy on the floor. “Why is that?”

Nagito didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“Adoration. Worship. That’s what you told yourself years ago.” Izuru paced across the room lazily. “Pain. Trauma. That’s what you tell yourself now.”

Nagito’s throat dried. Stop, stop, stop-

“You lie to yourself. You know the truth, don’t you?” Izuru prompted. When the other didn’t respond, the toe of Izuru’s shoe slid under Nagito’s chin, nudging his face upwards. Gray eyes locked onto red, unable to glance away. The way it always was.

Every little feature of the stranger was identical to Izuru’s: the unruly hair, the unnatural eyes, the meticulous suit, spotless despite the circumstances.

Everything except those horrid, clawed hands.

“For someone who claims to be innately inferior, you have had quite the habit of turning me into a scapegoat for your misgivings, haven’t you?” Izuru said.

It’s not Izuru, it’s not Izuru, it’s not Izuru, it’s not-

“You claim I treated you as a possession, but it was you who continued to follow. You claim I manipulated you, but I let it be known that you could leave at any time. You claim that your love for Hinata is unrequited because I had you first, but you consented to everything,” He continued. “You claim I used you for personal gain, but it was you who used me as an outlet for self-destruction.”

The shoe moved out from under Nagito’s chin, and he collapsed into a ball on the floor, like it had been the only thing holding him up.

“And that is why I left.”

Silent tears streaked down Nagito’s cheeks.

Izuru was right. He was right, wasn’t he?

Izuru didn’t leave because Servant no longer served as entertainment.

He left because Servant was a monster.

Finally, a gloved hand clamped around Nagito’s jaw. His head was forced up yet again, and he stared into a face identical to his own, eyes swirling with insanity and despair.

“How very hopeless of us,” Servant purred.

And it was the act of seeing the very person that Nagito hated the most that gave him the strength to ball up his left fist, and swing.

The sickening crack of metal meeting flesh echoed off the cold cell walls, and Servant staggered onto his feet, clutching at his busted eyebrow. Giggles erupted from his mouth as he pulled his hand away, the blood from the wound intermingling with the scarlet on his nails.

“Well, isn’t that marvelous! And here I thought we had no more pride left to show!” Servant cackled and ran his hand through his hair, leaving grotesque streaks of red in the white.

“Stop saying ‘we’,” Nagito hissed, fury searing his veins. “We’re not the same.”

A twisted grin slithered across Servant’s face. He raised his foot, and stomped on Nagito’s prosthetic. Static pain shot up his arm as the artificial joints popped, fingers and wrist hanging from broken wires.

“Even trash needs to be put in its place, hmm?” Servant mused, starting to back himself out of the room. “As much as I’ve enjoyed playing with you, I’m expecting some guests anytime now. You understand, right?”

“Go to hell,” Nagito growled.

Servant chuckled, before giving a mock bow. 

“See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime had never been in love before.

Sure, he’d had several crushes growing up, but they’d never been much stronger than dopey fondness and physical attraction. He'd also always been too much of a coward to pursue anything, too; never giving his feelings a chance to grow.

But if being in love meant diving into a massive stronghold guarded by brainwashed, armed soldiers and countless psychotic bear robots, likely resulting in his own death, Hajime wasn’t quite sure it was something he wanted to be a part of.

Or maybe he just had an unfortunate taste in men. 

“Oh, jeez,” Makoto whispered next to him. 

A severe understatement. 

Their ragtag rescue party had landed about a mile away from Aozora City in an attempt to be stealthier, and they were now on a hill with a clear view of Kumo Tower. The base was quite a bit below where they were stationed, but the top of the building still rose above them at an alarming height. And if the inside was as swarmed as the outside, then their chances of success were minuscule. 

“Well, if anyone had any doubts about these being the bad guys…” Akane muttered. “Are we sure this is the way to go?”

“Of course!” Sonia exclaimed. “Nagito saved our lives; this is the least we can do!”

“If we’re going to stand any chance, we need to do this without getting caught. Even with six fighters on our side, taking them head on would be deadly,” Kyoko said.

“Me and Jack can take care of all of the bad guys outside,” Komaru suggested. That’s right, they had a serial killer on their team. “We’ll lure them away, so you’ll have a clear shot at the door. I can use the megaphone to make the Monokumas attack the guards, and if any stragglers come after you or us, then Jack can get them.”

Toko nodded.

“But what of the inside?” Gundham reminded her. “We will need to dispose of even more hellspawn there.”

“Ooh! Ooh, ooh!” Kazuichi bounced on his toes. “I got an idea!”

“Did it hurt?” Fuyuhiko mumbled.

Kazuichi shot him a scowl before continuing. “On the way here, I looked further into Alter Ego’s report on Aozora. Or, as much as he was able to get. There’s a shit -ton of radio waves coming from Kumo. Really strong, too. And if we weren’t in the straight-up apocalypse, it wouldn’t be as much of a deal, but what if that’s how the creepy dudes are being brainwashed?”

“That’s a large assumption, Kazuichi,” Kyoko pointed out.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But if I find a way to shut off the tower generators, we’ll either take care of buncha zombie people, or we’ll turn off their hot water and royally piss ‘em off. Both sound pretty good to me.”

The start of a plan started formulating in Hajime’s mind. It was weak, dumb, and volatile; but a plan, nonetheless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phase one: Komaru and Genocide Jack distract enemies outside.

“Okay, this should be good enough,” Komaru whispered. 

She and Toko had moved closer on the hill to the threat; still with the advantage of an incline, but near enough to be considered a potential threat. Sonia and Gundham hid farther away, while the rest had repositioned to have an easy sprint to the entrance when the coast was clear.

“This is a really bad idea,” Toko said for the third time, but the determined glint in her eyes didn’t waver. She turned to Komaru. “B-be careful. I’ll s-see you on the other side, okay?”

“Of course,” Komaru grinned.

Toko gave Komaru one last kiss on her forehead, before pointing a taser at her own.

If the violent clicks of the gun didn’t get the guards’ attention, then Genocide Jack’s grand entrance definitely did.

“Oh-me oh-my, where the fuck am I!?” Jack screeched.

Like anticipated, fifty-something heads turned slowly in their direction: some human, some robot, all just as eerily mechanical.

And all attached to bodies sprinting right at them.

“ Run !” Komaru screamed, pulling Jack with her. 

Gunshots and sick, unnatural laughs rang around them. Bullets whizzed above their ducked heads and sprayed against the hillside below them, with the ground’s incline working in their favor. Komaru blasted warning shots of her own in the direction of the remaining idle guards, drawing them into the crowd. And with the runway clear, seven of her comrades made their way into Koma Tower.

“Dekomaru, is this a heist!?” Jack gasped, before yanking the other into a borderline-violent kiss. “Oh, thank you, you sneaky, sexy bitch!”

Before Komaru had the chance to blush, she was suddenly tugged onto the other’s back and carried away at an almost inhuman speed.

Once they neared trees, Komaru twisted her upper body around to look behind them. Jack moved quick, but their pursuers were nowhere near falling behind. She spotted the Monokuma closest to them, paws up and claws flashing, and aimed the megaphone.

“ Link!”

The Monokuma froze in place, awaiting Komaru’s command. 

“Attack!” Komaru ordered, pointing at the crowd behind it.

Immediately, it pounced on one of the guards, teeth gnashing and swiping at the man’s throat, barely out of his reach.

That would have been us, Komaru reminded her churning stomach. But she didn’t hesitate before linking another Monokuma, and another, and another, before the hill was a battlefield.

“What now, boss lady?” Jack asked eagerly, setting Komaru back on the ground.

“Stop any that try to go back to the tower,” Komaru answered grimly.

“Permission to maim, darling?” Jack grinned deviously, unsheathing a pair of deadly scissors.

Komaru winced. “Try not to.”

“It’s not a no!” Jack whooped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phase two: Kazuichi shuts off generator, Akane guards

It was beyond unnerving watching a swarm of robots and soldiers chase after the two girls, but Kazuichi tried not to dwell on it as he, Akane, Hajime, Fuyuhiko, Peko, Kyoko, and Makoto raced inside Kumo Tower.

There were no signs of life (or Monokumas) in the entranceway, but that was probably soon to change.

“Alright,” Hajime whispered, swiftly shutting the doors behind him. “Kaz and Akane, head to the basement and cut the power. As soon as you’re done, call us on the walkie-talkies, and get out. Be quick, be careful. Got it?”

“Trust me, we will ,” Kazuichi mumbled as he and Akane set off to find the stairs.

Kazuichi was well aware that he was a coward; if he had any doubts about it before, that damned killing game surely put them to rest. Being a part of a dangerous plot that could very easily go wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. But although it was Hajime that brought Kazuichi to Aozora, it was the guilt and regret about how he’d treated Nagito that made him stay. Sure, the weirdo definitely deserved it back in the simulation, but his sacrificial stunt with the parachute was a wake-up call for bygones to be bygones.

“Alright, where the fuck are we going?” Akane asked as the two rushed down the stairs.

“The generator is at the very bottom, I think in the room on the left,” Kazuichi recalled.

“How do you know? Is that where they always are, or something?” Akane raised her eyebrow as the two reached the end.

“Nah. Remember when I said I toured Kumo? I kinda maybe broke off from the group to explore places that I shouldn’t have,” Kazuichi admitted.

“That’s my guy!” Akane grinned.

Whoever planned Kumo Tower must have had a serious aversion to physical labor; everything that could be automated or digitized was. There were no locks, no doorknobs, and Kazuichi bet that they were the first ones to use the stairs in a very long while. For most people, this would make breaking in much more difficult.

Fortunately, Kazuichi was not most people.

Within a matter of seconds, the card reader on the door was opened up, wires were disconnected and reconnected, and the door obediently slid open.

“Dude, you’re a beast!” Akane laughed.

Kazuichi’s chest swelled with pride at the rare compliment, but the job was nowhere near over.

The generator room didn’t appear to have changed much since his last visit; dusty walls decorated with switches and lights, safety equipment up the wazoo, and his target sitting in the very back: a hunk of metal containing pure energy . 

“So… will shutting that thing off really make all the guys out there stop bein’ all zombie-like?” Akane asked as Kazuichi inspected the generator.

“That’s the hypothesis,” he answered, making quick work of another card reader. “It’ll also turn all the lights off and open up all the doors so we won’t get stuck. Until the backup generator kicks in.”

“If there’s a backup, won’t it turn the brainwash thing back on?”

“If it did, that’d be a dumbass waste of energy,” Kazuichi commented. 

After about a zillion more safety measures that were easily bypassed, he finally reached the prized switchboard.

“Cross your fingers,” Kazuichi muttered, and flipped the switch.

The room was immediately bathed in darkness, and they heard a click as the doors slid back open. 

“Uh… there is a backup generator, right?” Akane asked nervously. 

Fuckin’ better be, Kazuichi thought, before turning to his walkie talkie. “Kazuichi here. Power’s off, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Hajime. Confirmed,” Hajime buzzed in.”

“Sonia confirmed!”

“Komaru! It worked!” Komaru shouted. “The guards are down! Literally! They all… kinda just collapsed.”

Akane slapped a high-five (though, her lack of sight made her hit Kazuichi’s wrist painfully instead.)

“Oh jeez, the Monokumas aren’t distracted anymore!” Komaru squeaked. Kazuichi heard the wild, delighted cackle of Genocide Jack on the other line before it clicked off.

Before he could say an “oh, they’ll be fine,” the lights flickered back on, albeit much dimmer than usual. There’s the backup.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Akane recommended.

Kazuichi wholeheartedly agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phase three: Fuyuhiko and Peko search the bottom ten floors.

As soon as the lights flickered back on, Hajime turned to Fuyuhiko and Peko.

“Start looking. Be quick. Be careful,” he commanded. This newer, leader-ish side of Hajime was still kind of jarring, but Fuyuhiko decided it was an improvement.

“You too. Let’s find our bastard,” he replied.

Hajime gave a tense nod, before he, Kyoko, and Makoto ran off to find the stairs. 

Fuyuhiko and Peko only had half the building to search, but considering that it was twenty flights in all, it was still a fuckload of ground to cover. Luckily, the two were fast and quiet, and the doors were already all open, only warranting a quick peek inside each. 

Guards littered the floor; dense enough that Fuyuhiko had to tiptoe around to avoid stepping on outstretched limbs. He vaguely wondered if they were dead, or if they were simply knocked out. But he couldn’t say he had it in him to feel remorse if it was the former. 

“Anything on your side?” Fuyuhiko whispered. He and Peko had split their search down the middle of the hallway. 

She shook her head. “These rooms seem to just be for display for tourists. I doubt they would hide anyone in them.”

Unfortunately, doubt and instinct was something they had to rely a bit too heavily on; Kumo was far too enormous to look in every nook and cranny. 

Fuyuhiko started making his way back towards Peko, when he heard a high-pitched, artificial voice come from above him. 

“Monokumas on the next floor,” he informed her grimly, looking at the air vent on the ceiling. He had hoped that those damn things were only outside, but that would be too good to be true, wouldn’t it?

“And Nagito’s not on this floor,” she replied. 

Second floor, it is .

Fuyuhiko and Peko crept up the stairs, gun and sword drawn and ready.

“I don’t think there are any right outside,” Peko murmured, her ear pressed to the door.

“We stick together for this one, though, okay?” Fuyuhiko said, an undercurrent of concern in his voice. 

Peko was the most badass person he had ever, would ever, know, but since her execution, the protectiveness he felt over her was astronomically fierce. But at his words, she gave him a rare, beautiful smile, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

“Together,” she repeated, and the gentle warmth in her eyes was replaced by fiery determination.

God, he loved that woman.

Slowly, silently, Peko nudged open the unlocked door, and the two slinked inside. Sure enough, there weren’t any Monokumas directly in sight, but Fuyuhiko could hear the little fuckers waddling around somewhere nearby. This floor seemed to be mainly for administrative and office work, judging by the rows of cubicles, pristine and untouched by the effects of the Tragedy. Either the digital locks were incredibly effective, or people had been there very recently. 

But it was one area, very unlike the others, that caught Fuyuhiko’s eye. It was tall and wide, as if several walls had been removed for its expansion. A column of flashing, beeping technology stretching near to the ceiling stood in the very center of the floor. A row of wires circling the circumference of the object reached to the ground.

Whatever it was, was ominous as fuck.

“Fuyuhiko, come here,” Peko said from behind the contraption.

She was staring at a relatively-normal looking screen, but it looked like a live-feed of an overhead security camera from somewhere outside the tower. It almost looked like… a gymnasium? The camera was too far away to get a good look at details, but Fuyuhiko could see the tops of the heads of twelve people, circled neatly in their room.

He stepped closer, squinting. “I can’t see much, but there’s no guy with white hair down there. I think we can rule whatever the fuck this is, out.”

Peko nodded. It was something to worry about later.

“Uh-oh! Punishment time!” A voice shrieked behind them.

Fuyuhiko’s heart leaped out of his chest, but he and Peko were trained enough to not let out a sound as they whirled towards the noise.

Monokuma bots. 

Ten. Twenty. He lost count.

But he and Peko stood their ground.

“There’s a slight opening in the left line. If we hurry, we can dash through and escape to the third floor,” Peko muttered, her mouth barely opening.

“We’re not done searching this floor yet,” Fuyuhiko responded, just as subtly.

“There are thirty-two of them, and two of us,” Peko pointed out.

Fuyuhiko grinned. “Sounds like a piece of cake.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

And so the two launched at the army, and a marvelous symphony of carnage and destruction echoed throughout the halls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phase zero: Sonia and Gundham keep watch.

Sonia wasn’t dumb; she knew that her and Gundham’s job of “keeping watch” was a nice way of saying, “you can’t fight, please stay out of our way”. 

She didn’t have to like it, though.

Thankfully, Gundham didn’t seem to catch onto this and took his role very seriously, ordering the Four Dark Devas of Destruction to scout the area. 

“I wonder how long this will take,” Sonia murmured. Kumo Tower was massive, and they’d only sent two search parties in. 

“I implore you not to fear for the well-being of our team. They are mighty, and I have seen the protective aura of Montu swirling about them,” Gundham assured. 

“But what about Nagito?” Sonia fretted. “He is frail, and most likely hurt. What will we do if he…?”

Gundham stroked Sonia’s hair. “The White One is protected by his own mystic fortune. And by mine as well; I still have yet to thank him for returning my queen to safety.”

Oddly, his cryptic words of reassurance were comforting, and Sonia leaned delicately against him, trying to banish the disturbing thoughts and fears. 

“Kazuichi here. Power’s off, if you couldn’t tell,” Kazuichi announced from the walkie-talkie. 

“Hajime. Confirmed.”

“Sonia confirmed!” Sonia chirped into the radio. That meant that everyone was okay, at least for now.

“Komaru! It worked! The guards are down! Literally! They all… kinda just collapsed,” Komaru called in. A sigh of relief was about to leave Sonia’s lips, when the girl spoke one more time. 

“Oh jeez, the Monokumas aren’t distracted anymore!” 

Oh no. 

“Gundham, we need to help them!” Sonia jumped to her feet, pulling the other up with her. 

“I agree, but how?” Gundham asked. 

Sonia scanned the base of the tower feverishly. No bombs. No guns. No weapons. Just touristy paraphernalia, equipment, and a bus. 

Wait. A bus?

“I have a plan! Follow me!” Sonia commanded, as she and Gundham half-ran, half-tumbled down the hill. 

The bus was already occupied; a man was slumped over the wheel, presumably from the disrupted brainwashing. Sonia experimentally turned the key plugged in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.

“Yes! Grand theft auto, baby!” Sonia hooted choppily, and Gundham shoved the previous driver out.

“My love, can you drive?” Gundham called over the engine.

“No, not at all!” Sonia replied deviously, situating her foot on the gas. “Hold on!”

She slammed down on the pedal, and the bus stuttered forward before picking up the pace.

The vehicle protested, but it rocketed up the hill towards where Toko and Komaru had stationed. And soon Sonia spotted the two clambering down the incline, Komaru clinging onto Genocide Jack’s back and shooting desperately at the bloodthirsty robots in pursuit.

If Sonia knew what she was doing, she would have stopped for them, or circled around to allow them inside, before driving away to safety.

But she didn’t know what she was doing, so she continued to floor it towards the swarm.

Jack screeched as she leaped away from the unexpected oncoming traffic, and Monokumas banged up against the front of the bus, no match for the heavier machinery. As Sonia attempted to turn around, Gundham stuck his hand out the still-open door.

“Grab hold, she-beast!” He cried.

Somehow, Jack was not only able to hear him, but also to follow the order, swinging her and Komaru into the vehicle before they could be impaled or run over.

“Holy shit, we’re alive! ” Jack cheered, stumbling into a seat before she could be flung right back out.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” Komaru chanted, only stopping when she noticed four hamsters jumping out of her pockets and into Gundham’s.

“My Devas, you have saved us all!” He boomed.

“Oh, Genocide Jack, I am such a fan of yours! You must tell me all about your methods and your thought processes and-” Sonia bubbled once the Monokumas started fleeing from the bus.

“Uh, eyes on the road, Pillow Princess!” Jack pointed out the window.

Sonia whipped her head around to see what she was talking about. 

The Monokumas weren’t running away from them, they were running towards Kazuichi and Akane, newly-emerged from Kumo Tower.

Sonia narrowed her eyes, and zoomed down towards them.

Komaru screamed. Jack screamed. Sonia screamed. Kazuichi screamed.

But Sonia swerved at the last second, the bus jerking back into a marginally slower speed.

“Get in-” Gundham started, but Akane and Kazuichi had already leaped aboard after seeing the passengers.

The chaotic hit-and-runs resumed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phase four: Hajime, Makoto, and Kyoko search the top ten floors.

Ten floors was a long way to climb. But Hajime had come to the unfortunate conclusion that at this point, he might as well admit that he’d tear the building brick by brick to find Nagito.

Kyoko and Makoto weren’t out of shape themselves, but they were definitely having trouble keeping up.

“Eleventh floor, let’s go,” Makoto panted once they reached the destination. He started to turn the handle, when Kyoko stopped him.

“Be careful,” she ordered. “We don’t know what’s on the other side.”

Makoto nodded, and stepped back.

“Hajime, is there a way for you to see if the coast is clear?” Kyoko asked. 

The extent of Hajime’s abilities were a mystery, even to her. He considered pulling out the Ultimate Spy, before he stopped in his tracks. 

“Are… you okay?” Makoto asked hesitantly.

“Nagito’s not on this floor,” Hajime answered.

“How do you know?” Kyoko furrowed her brows, but stepped away from the door.

Hajime shook his head. “I don’t know, it’s just a…” 

“It’s a lucky guess!” Makoto finished.

“We want to find Nagito, and Nagito wants to be found. Of course!” Hajime marveled.

“Go ahead and lead the way,” Kyoko said.

Nagito wasn’t on the eleventh floor. Nor the twelfth.

But they stopped once they reached number thirteen.

“That’s… promising,” Hajime muttered, then spoke up. “This is it. Let’s go.”

Floor thirteen was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. The walls weren’t bright and silvery, but rather rough and worn. Concrete slats replaced the neat tile, and the doors lining the narrow hallway were few and far between. If anyone was being held captive in Kumo Tower, it would be there.

“I don’t hear anyone,” Kyoko said quietly. “We should be able to split up safely, as long as we don’t stray too far apart.”

Hajime’s heart was booming too loudly in his ears to confirm Kyoko’s observation. Whether it was out of fear, nerves, dread, or anticipation; he wasn’t sure. Makoto and Kyoko separated to take two different sides of the hallway, but Hajime continued onward. He’d let them do their own thorough searches for peace of mind’s sake, but he knew that Nagito was just further ahead.

One doorway stuck out. Hajime couldn’t quite figure out how, but he didn’t dwell on it. Closer, closer he walked. He looked inside, and…

No one.

Hajime frowned, a pinch of nerves stinging his stomach. Was his intuition wrong? Were they going to have to search ten whole floors after all?

But there in the corner of the tiny, empty room, were shackles, neatly cracked open. And near them was a small bloodstain, and familiar-looking scraps of metal and wire.

Familiar because they had come from Hajime’s own handiwork.

Air forced its way out of his lungs. Nagito was here. Nagito was here. But where was he now? How did the blood and metal get there? Was he hurt? Please no, was he d-

Another gut feeling, another lucky guess, pulled him out of the room, further down the hallway, towards metal double-doors.

Suddenly, a piercing alarm rang through the corridor.

“What is that!? What happened!?” Makoto squawked, running out of the room he was in.

Above Hajime’s head, a red light flashed. A security sensor.

Monokuma bots spilled out of the passageways flanking him. Hajime leaped back, hand grasping for his gun as a string of curses ran through his mind.

“Hajime, the stairway!” Kyoko shouted from behind him.

“No! Nagito’s at the end of the hall!” Hajime screamed back. Monokumas toppled with each deafening gunshot, but the numbers barely dwindled. “Run, get the others, get out of here!”

“We can’t just leave you-!” Makoto protested shrilly. But Kyoko met Hajime’s eyes, and gave a decisive nod.

“Good luck,” she called, and dragged Makoto back to the stairwell.

Hajime whipped his head back towards the Monokumas. He couldn’t take them all. More would keep coming, and eventually he would get overrun. He was talented, but he wasn’t invincible.

So he gritted his teeth, ducked his head, and charged.

Nails and teeth sliced through clothing, but never met skin. The gun kept firing aimlessly, knocking back robots and ricocheting bullets off the walls. Ultimate Soldier, Ultimate Luck, Ultimate Everything got him to that door.

He pawed at the handles before finally yanking it open, and slamming back closed against the oncoming tirade. There was a sound of twenty bodies crashing against the wall, but none made it through.

Hajime gasped for air, taking in his surroundings. He was on some sort of massive balcony overlooking the city. It had been hours since they had made their way to Aozora City and into Kumo; the sunset turning the sky a dreadfully familiar color.

Red.

Red, red, bloody sky.

And there, standing precariously on the ledge, one step away from plummeting down into the pavement, was…

Phase five: Rescue Nagito.

“Nagito. Nagito!”  

He was okay. He was okay. He was okay.

But even at the sound of Hajime’s voice, Nagito remained where he was. The only indication that he had heard him was the clench of his uninjured fist, while his left prosthetic hung, useless and broken.

“Nagito, it’s me , it’s Hajime! I’m…!” Hajime felt tears threaten. What was happening? Why wasn’t he moving? “I’m here to take you home!”

“...Ha,” Nagito finally spoke.

Ice filled Hajime’s veins.

“What… what are you doing?” Hajime faltered. Compared to the chaos seconds prior, the silence in the air was deafening.

“The shackles broke on their own, soon after you left. When the doors opened, I went outside,” Nagito explained. “It’s nice out, don’t you think?”

When I left…?

“Nagito, get off the ledge. Please, ” Hajime pleaded. 

“I was going to jump. With my luck, maybe I’d land in another dumpster, or a truck full of mattresses, or simply make a miraculous recovery despite the impact, and escape. Or, I’d splat on the ground and finally be done with all of this.” Nagito finally turned around to face Hajime, expression colder than he’d seen in a long, long time. A joyless smile split across his face, already marred with five bleeding cuts. “Either way, I’d be taking your little toy away.”

“I… what? You’re not my...!” Hajime choked out.

You’re not my toy.

But wasn’t he? Wasn’t that how Hajime treated him?

Hajime befriended him, and tossed him away when he was no longer fun to be around. When Hajime got lonely, he took him right back out to play. Nagito acted as if Hajime was his whole life, but Hajime barely gave him an afterthought.

Like a toy.

Nagito lifted his foot, dangling it mockingly over the open air, reveling in the white-hot fear flashing across Hajime’s face.

“Nagito, stop! ” Hajime begged, throwing both arms out instinctively.

But something in Nagito’s expression changed when his eyes shot to Hajime’s hands. 

Confusion. Realization. Shock.

“...It’s really you,” Nagito whispered. “Hajime…?”

“It’s me, buddy,” Hajime replied, voice thick with emotion. “ Please get off-”

Nagito launched towards him.

Before Hajime could process what was happening, Nagito grabbed one of Hajime’s hands, examined it once more, clutched it in his own, and knelt.

“I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m sorry for putting you in danger. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for making you come all this way. I’m so, so sorry, ” Nagito gasped hysterically, tears waterfalling down his face.

Nagito was avoiding Hajime’s eyes, kneeling like he was talking to a god.

Like he was talking to Izuru. 

So Hajime did what he knew Izuru would never.

He knelt down in front of Nagito on equal ground and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze. Nagito froze, his eyes tracing the tear rolling down the other’s chin in disbelief.

“Listen to me. It wouldn’t matter where you were taken, or how long it would take to find you, or how dangerous it would be to get you back. I would always come to get you. Okay?” Hajime asked. Maybe that kind of statement would embarrass him to pieces later, but right now he meant it, and he needed Nagito to know that.

Nagito flinched, like he’d been slapped. “I’m a burden, I know. I’m s-”

“ Nagito ,” Hajime interrupted, his harsh tone shutting him right up. “Are you happy that I came here to get you?”

“Of course, but-”

“Then don’t say sorry,” Hajime insisted. “Say thank you .”

Nagito’s mouth opened. Then shut. Then…

“...Thank you.”

The words were a whisper, hardly audible above the wind. But they were enough.

It was as if Hajime’s hands moved of their own volition to pull the other into a tight embrace. Nagito went stone-still as Hajime’s arms curled around his waist and tugged closer. Maybe for Nagito, being hugged was a foreign concept, as his right hand wandered, not knowing where to go. It tentatively combed through Hajime’s hair, touched his collar, and rested on his shoulder blade, before finally looping to clutch at his back. His wrecked arm mimicked as best it could, the metal appendage hanging limply against him. 

Maybe it was the simple act of reciprocation that finally broke Hajime. Tears fell freely and shamelessly, soaking the crook of Nagito’s neck where Hajime’s forehead fit. Another pull and Nagito toppled, curling into the other, head buried into the other’s shirt and crying just as hard.

Why hadn’t Hajime done this before? Why hadn’t he held him before? Didn’t Nagito need it? Didn’t they both need it?

And as Hajime moved his hand to touch the soft, white hair, his mind screamed for him to tell him. Tell Nagito how in love he was with him, and how Hajime was a jackass for ever thinking he wasn’t.

But he didn’t. 

Because Hajime didn’t think he could stand doing anything that would make Nagito let go of him. Not now.

And so, the two held each other, there on the rooftop, there in the middle of the apocalyptic sky, and wept.

Chapter Text

“...Hajime?”

“Yeah?”

“How are we going to get down?”

The breaking of silence brought Hajime abruptly back to the present, and he became very aware that he was stuck on a thirteenth floor balcony, that the only exit not involving plummeting to his doom was infested with Monokumas, and that he was holding Nagito on his lap.

Did Hajime hate the last part? No. No to an embarrassing degree. 

However. 

“Gah. Uh. Yeah. That’s, uh. That’s an issue,” Hajime sputtered, face burning, moving Nagito as kindly as he could off of his legs to stand up. 

Focus on the actual problem, dumbass. Hajime scolded himself. 

He weighed his options; one was certain death, and the other was probable death. 

Hajime reloaded his gun, and handed it to Nagito. “I’m gonna open that door, and we’re gonna run. Shoot any Monokumas that you can.”

Somehow, Nagito went even paler. “But what about you? I wasn’t lying about surviving the jump.”

“Absolutely not,” Hajime gritted his teeth. As impossibly convenient as it was, relying on luck alone was bound to bite them in the ass eventually.

“I’m gonna open the door on three, okay?” Hajime grasped the handle tightly, trying not to let his nerves show. He just found Nagito. If they died now…

Nagito gave a tense nod, aiming the weapon just beyond Hajime’s head.

“Okay.” Hajime gripped harder. “One… Two…”

SLAM!

BANG!

Before Hajime finished the count, a Monokuma burst through the door and crashed into him. A bullet was lodged in its head as soon as it made contact, too immediate to be purely reactive.

Maybe he’d better rely on Nagito’s luck after all.

But once the entrance was clear, more bears flooded onto the balcony, creating a deadly barrier in front of their escape. Hajime was roughly shoved to the ground by the weight of the swarm, and was dogpiled by a mass of metal and blades.

Hajime heard his name shouted over grating laughs and shrill voices. Gunshots sounded, but the weight on top of him barely lessened. He threw his arms over his face and kicked . Claws tore at his clothes and skin, but enough of the robots had been launched off for him to lunge out of the cluster.

But once Hajime was no longer easy prey, their attention turned to Nagito instead.

Nope.

Nagito looked exponentially less terrified being the target instead of Hajime, the look of fear being replaced by determination as he continued firing. But Hajime charged forward anyway, banking on none of the bullets hitting him instead. Hands forced their way into the crowd before finding purchase on the front of Nagito’s sweatshirt; half-pulling, half-carrying him back inside.

They barely even had time to shut the door behind them. The narrow hall was chalk-full of Monokumas. Hajime didn’t know where they could have come from; when he searched the rooms the first time, all he’d found was cleaning supplies and miscellaneous junk. 

Not that he had time to think about it.

“Take the gun, you’re a better shot!” Nagito yelled over the terrible racket, pushing the gun into Hajime’s hands.

Hajime couldn’t take them all. There was no way. Even if he did have the strength to fight that many enemies, no amount of skill or luck could put more bullets in the chamber.

But Hajime took aim, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints as he locked onto his precise target. With one expertly placed shot, a single line of Monokumas straight to the back of the hallway fell like dominos, sparkling with short-circuiting wires. A pathway was created, but it was being filled in, fast.

Hajime clenched onto Nagito’s uninjured hand, and charged.

Shooting. Sprinting. Shoving. Slashing.

Grunts of pain from both of them as blades met skin, but they kept on running.

They’d finally gotten ahead of the crowd, the end near in sight, when Nagito was wrenched out of Hajime’s grasp. Claws had hooked into the back of Nagito’s pant leg, the momentum knocking him to the floor.

“ Nagito! ” Hajime screamed, lunging after him as the Monokuma bared its teeth.

But before either had made contact, Nagito rammed his fist into the wall. Somehow, the massive steel vent nailed to the ceiling fell, crashing into the bear and blocking off the rest of the army.

“Holy shit, that was close,” Hajime wheezed, looping his arms under Nagito’s to pull him off the ground. “Are you okay?”

Nagito smiled weakly. “Never b- ah!” As soon as he put his weight on his right leg, his knee buckled, and he pitched forward.

Hajime caught him before he hit the ground, stumbling against the sudden weight. “Is your leg broken?” 

Nagito shook his head, bracing his hand against Hajime’s chest to push himself back onto his good leg. “I’m well aware of what a broken bone feels like. This is just a sprain, don’t worry.”

It wasn’t much of a reassurance. “We’ve got twelve flights of stairs ahead of us, that’s a lot to do on a sprain,” Hajime muttered, half to himself. “We’ll take it slow, okay? I’ll help you.”

Nagito tried to hide a pained grimace. “Don’t wor-”

“I worry,” Hajime interrupted him. “Come on.”

Nagito obediently put his arm around the other’s shoulders for support, limping forward with him as Hajime opened the door to the stairwell.

Hajime’s heart dropped.

“Oh fuck.”

The stairway was clogged , every inch occupied by those goddamn robots.

Countless heads turned to face the two, but none of the Monokumas made any movement towards them. 

Like they were being mocked. 

“Why are there so many? Why now? ” Hajime hissed, swiftly blocking off the room once again. He wondered if the action mattered; even the bots behind the fallen vent were still and silent, though he knew they hadn’t left.

“For despair, of course.”

Nagito had let go of Hajime and leaned himself against the wall. His head was downturned, but Hajime didn’t need to see him to guess which crazed expression had twisted his features. He practically had it memorized. 

“They let me see you, the actual you, to give me one last hope to pulverize,” Nagito muttered. 

“They? The actual me? What are you talking about?” Hajime asked, but instead of answering, Nagito surged forward, grabbing onto Hajime’s wrist. Dull fingernails dug into his skin, leaving crescent indentations. 

“But it doesn’t have to be that way!” Nagito insisted, completely disregarding Hajime’s questions. His eyes were glazed over, a joyless grin contorting his face. “I’ll give myself up, and distract them while you escape! There’s no despair in a death like that, to put this wretched body to use for the sake of your survival. To be able to sacrifice myself for a wonderful, brilliant person like you, not just once, but twice… I’ve never been luckier!”

It was like the past three months had never happened. Like whatever Nagito had gone through in that godforsaken tower had completely regressed him. 

“Nagito, what happened? ” Hajime urged. 

Nagito stared at him in wonder. “Hajime, I’m honored that you pretend to care!”

“ Nagito-“

Multiple thuds sounded from behind the vent, making both boys flinch. The message was clear: hurry up, make a decision. 

Hajime gently pried the other’s fingers from his arm. “I want to help you with… what you’re going through, but right now, we need to figure out how to get both of us out of here. Okay?”

Nagito didn’t answer, just chewed on his lip instead. But Hajime didn’t have time to address it. 

The only place to search for something useful was the lone supply closet they had access to. For whatever reason, it was stuffed to the brim with power tools. Sure, hammers and drills would make formidable weapons, but fighting their way through the horde would be an incredibly bad idea. They’d be overrun immediately. 

Hajime’s eyes fell to the spool of a hundred-foot power cord, and a plan formed. 

“Get on my back,” Hajime ordered, hurriedly lugging the equipment out of the tiny room. 

“I... What?” Nagito blinked, the absurdity bringing him briefly back to the present.

But he was already tugged up. Nagito quickly hooked his arms around Hajime’s neck, latching his right hand onto the sleeve of his left; with only one arm, there weren’t many options for support. Hajime tried to adjust his grip to avoid strangulation. This was going to be difficult. 

Hajime put his hand on the door handle again, counted to three again, and burst through. 

Once it became clear that Hajime and his human backpack were attempting to advance, the Monokumas rushed forward for eager bloodshed. But the bears’ hesitation bought Hajime enough time to tie one end of the cord to a horizontal part of the railing and toss the rest down the center of the stairwell. 

Realization dawned on Nagito when Hajime braced his foot against the rail. “Haj-!”

And then they were plummeting. 

Hajime tried to keep an equal hold on the cord with both hands and knees, but the friction still seared his palms and tore at fabric. Nagito’s grip completely choked off Hajime’s airway, but considering it was preventing him from screaming like a girl, he was fine with the arrangement. Their surroundings were a blur of black, white, and red, the horde of Monokumas consistently dense.

When Hajime’s feet slammed into the spool at the very bottom, they still had a thirty-or-so foot drop under them. But he didn’t have time to consider his options. The force of two people crashing violently onto the reel was enough to cause something far above them to break.

That’s when Hajime screamed.

He pulled out the Ultimate Gymnast and took the landing with bent knees and elbows, but Nagito’s added weight, and the fact that it was a thirty-foot drop , made the impact shoot static pain up his limbs.

“Fuck,” Hajime squeaked.

Nagito rolled off of the crumpled boy. “I’m so sorry, are you-” His voice choked off, before desperately shaking Hajime’s shoulder. “We have to go, now!”

Hajime was pretty sure he knew why.

Nagito struggled to his feet, favoring his own injury. “Please, use me as a crutch!”

Instead, Hajime jumped up, legs screaming every curse known to man, and threw a protesting Nagito over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Hajime’s vision faded in and out with exertion as they made the final dash to the exit. Monokumas flooded from each passageway, and he knew that there was no way that he would be able to make it all the way back to the helicopter with his lagging speed.

But when they made it outside, a bus was parked where one hadn’t been before, surrounded by an abundance of robot wreckage, occupied by ten very familiar, cheering people. 

“Holy shit , you got him!” Kazuichi whooped from the driver seat.

“ DRIVE!” Hajime yelled, leaping through the doorway. 

“Huh- Oh Jesus, fuck !” Kazuichi screeched as hundreds of Monokumas barged out of Kumo. The bus thundered to life, swerving through the parking lot. Hajime and Nagito toppled into a nearby seat, the latter yelping when his sprained leg got pinned between the wall and Hajime’s side. The vehicle was filled with shrieks and flying bodies. 

“Dekomaru, shoot ‘em!” Jack squealed. At least someone was having fun. 

“There’s a zillion of them, no!” Komaru yelled back. Bears started pounding at the side of the bus, their “upupu”’s audible even over the cacophony inside. 

“Hit them! Hit them!” Sonia shouted, clinging onto Gundham’s arm in excitement, and to prevent herself from being flung to the other side. 

“No, you’ll break the goddamn bus!” Fuyuhiko shot back. 

“Go forward,” Kyoko commanded. 

“I know, I know!” Kazuichi slammed the gas and they rocketed forward as fast as the bus could accelerate towards the main road. 

They straightened out once they reached the street, the army of Monokumas falling farther and farther behind. 

Then Hajime realized that both of his hands were pressed against the window on either side of Nagito’s head, his torso shoved right up against the other’s shoulder. 

Hajime jerked away at record speed, face blazing. “Holy shit, I’m so sor-“

But Nagito wasn’t paying attention, his eyes frozen open, fixed on something in the distance. 

Hajime leaned forward to peer out the window. 

Standing by Kumo Tower, statue-still, was a person too far away to clearly make out. All Hajime could see was their unbelievably long, black hair swaying in the wind. 

********************

Once the coast was clear, it took about thirty seconds for Nagito to get affectionately attacked by Sonia, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and alarmingly, Kazuichi. 

“Who’s driving?!” Hajime yelled at him once the mechanic leaped into the fray. 

“Hajime, take the wheel!” Kazuichi hooted, diving over him. 

Hajime unleashed a torrent of colorful language as he grabbed the steering wheel before they all went down. It wasn’t like he wasn’t terribly injured or anything. 

“Nagito, you’re okay, you’re okay!” Sonia cried, smacking a kiss on his cheek. 

“For real this time!” Akane added on, squeezing Nagito into a forceful bear-hug. Though, it looked disturbingly similar to the time she had put the boy in a headlock. 

“Fuckin’ better be, it was hard as shit getting you back,” Fuyuhiko said, but his words were offset by his grin and his hand thudding on Nagito’s back. 

“Seriously, though! We had this whole heist-thing, with distractions and power outages and shit! Man, you’re gonna be jealous when you hear about it,” Kazuichi gushed. 

Hajime was about to scold the four for ganging up on Nagito when he was still so fragile, emotionally and physically. But when Akane shifted, he was surprised to see a smile slowly forming on Nagito’s face. 

“You’re acting like you’re… happy to see me,” he said in a vaguely confused tone. Hajime was surprised he was able to hear his muted voice over the engine. 

“Of course we’re happy to see you!” Sonia exclaimed in disbelief. “You are our dear friend!”

“Do you really think we’d do all this shit for some random guy?” Fuyuhiko scoffed. 

“Okay, to be fair, Haji did say he’d strand us in the middle of the woods if we didn’t, but we still woulda!” Akane insisted. 

Nagito’s eyes briefly met Hajime’s in the rear-view mirror, before Hajime quickly redirected his focus back on the road. 

Hajime was worried that their onslaught would be too much, too soon for Nagito. He’d obviously been through some sort of shit, judging by his immediate, intense spiral back in Kumo Tower. But maybe being overwhelmed with this kind of attention was what he needed; to be reminded that things were different now. He had support. He had friends . And he’d be lying if he said that seeing his dearest friends treat Nagito so fondly didn’t make him feel oddly, fiercely proud.

When Sonia, Akane, Fuyuhiko, and Kazuichi finally let up, the rest of the group gathered around Nagito as well, evidently putting a lot of faith in Hajime’s driving ability. Even Komaru and the newly-fronted Toko joined in; the former enthusiastically telling him that the two girls would be joining them back at Jabberwock for a small vacation, while the latter moped. 

Nagito looked pleased, but he didn’t talk much, himself. No one asked him too many questions, and Hajime had a feeling it was on purpose, for fear of making him try to divulge something that would make him fall into a panic. The closest thing anyone had gotten was when Kyoko asked if they would be safe heading home. Even that seemed to be veering on too much; his affirmation was small and shaky. After seeing his mood change, Sonia abruptly changed the subject to tell him that Nami was being well-taken care of back at Jabberwock.

And it was the same reason why Hajime kept driving past where the Future Foundation helicopter was left hidden. Never mind the fact that there was no way they’d be able to cram twelve people in that tiny cabin; Hajime couldn’t think of a worse place to stuff Nagito right after everything he’d been through. Or the other four hostages, for that matter. When Makoto noticed, he simply told Hajime quietly that he’d ask the Future Foundation to have a boat and crew ready for them when they reached the coast.

The sun had been set for hours before Hajime gave in and woke Kazuichi up to take back the driver’s seat. It looked like everyone had fallen asleep, and it’d been a hot second since Hajime had been able to do that himself. And even though he was able to heal a lot quicker than before, his joints were still yelling at him to get some rest.

As Hajime slipped towards the back of the bus to find an empty seat to set up camp in, he passed Nagito, and was tempted to sit beside him. Seeing all of his friends get the chance to talk to Nagito made Hajime feel happy for him, of course, but he also couldn’t help feel a twinge of jealousy when he was stuck driving. However, by the way Nagito was turned towards the window, it looked like he had already succumbed to sleep.

But then Hajime noticed Nagito’s eyes watching him in the reflection of the glass, too lucid to be anywhere close to slumber. 

“Um… Can I sit here?” Hajime asked. He’d been paused in the middle of the aisle for an awkwardly long amount of time to not say something.

“I can move, yes,” Nagito answered in a hushed voice, still facing away. The others had left him alone to retire to their own seats a while ago; definitely enough time for him to stew in his surely-unpleasant thoughts.

“No, I meant… Can I sit with you?” Hajime clarified. He wasn’t surprised that Nagito had so readily assumed that Hajime wanted to kick him out of the seat, and that he would be completely fine with being booted out. Like Hajime wasn’t feeling way too clingy, and afraid to let him out of his sight.

“If you want to,” Nagito answered numbly. “Though it’s strange that you would.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” Hajime replied, perching carefully at the very edge of the seat. Coming from anyone else, those seemingly-apathetic words and tone would be a sign that no, Nagito didn’t want company. But Hajime knew that Nagito’s self-deprecation ran terribly deep, and those words were as much permission as he’d let himself grant.

Hajime really did notice a lot more of Nagito than he thought.

Like how he saw Nagito’s reflection staring at him still, eyes flickering from his face to his hands.

“Are you okay?” Hajime asked lamely. Of course he wasn’t. But the extended eye contact made him feel compelled to say something, even though he knew that Nagito would lie and say-

“No.”

Oh .

Nagito finally turned his face towards Hajime, a small, sad smile on his face. A pang ran through Hajime’s heart. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

There was a beat of silence while Nagito lowered his gaze to his lap, fiddling with one of his disconnected metal fingers, before he finally answered in a whisper, “Okay.”

Another surprise.

Hajime gingerly scooted closer.

“There was… a stranger,” Nagito murmured. “They changed shape. They changed into people I knew, right in front of me. Everything was an exact copy, except… Except they had Junko’s hands. Like the one I had taken.”

Hajime tried to keep his expression neutral, but Nagito wasn’t fooled. He gave a short exhale of a laugh. “If it sounds crazy, it’s because it is. They knew everything I did, like they had pulled it from my own mind. Even the things I’ve tried to keep hidden from myself.”

Hajime remembered the way Nagito had acted back on the balcony; the way he barely reacted when he heard Hajime’s voice, how he’d called himself Hajime’s toy, how as soon as he’d seen Hajime’s hands, his whole demeanor had changed. 

Hajime was one of those people Nagito had seen, wasn’t he?

“Everyone already thought I was crazy. At least this confirms it for myself,” Nagito smiled again. It obviously wasn’t out of happiness, but it wasn’t hysterical either. It was resignation.

It sounded crazy. And Nagito had never been too grounded in reality to begin with. But something in Hajime told him that there had to be more to it than that. That there had to be some truth in what he said. Even if it should have been impossible. The two of them were littered with cuts and blood from their stint with the Monokumas, but Nagito’s arm had already been broken when Hajime found him. And his cheek…

Hajime reached towards it, stopping when he saw the other flinch. He quickly retracted, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Uh, sorry. I just…” he cleared his throat and gestured to the scrapes on the other’s face. “Can I see?”

Nagito looked confused, but he nodded and turned towards the side.

“The stranger scratched you, didn’t they?” Hajime asked. But the Ultimate Forensic Scientist in him knew that the marks undoubtedly came from fingernails. Long fingernails. Like the ones Junko had.

Nagito’s eyes widened briefly, before settling back into defeat. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Nagito.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he repeated, shaking his head, looking eons more tired than he already had.

When it was clear that Nagito wouldn’t speak more on the subject, Hajime stood up. “I’ll leave you be, okay? Get some sleep.”

But before Hajime could leave, Nagito’s hand shot out and gripped the hem of his shirt.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Nagito mumbled.

Hajime tried to ignore the bashful joy sparking in his chest as he sat back down.

Technically, Nagito really wasn’t alone; there were ten other people in the bus, after all. But Hajime knew that it didn’t matter; once Nagito closed his eyes, the others would fade to darkness, and it would be no different than being completely isolated. He knew because he’d felt like that just two days before.

Nagito whipped his head around when he felt Hajime’s shoulder press against his, too close to be unintentional.

Hajime cleared his throat, looking away to hide the redness in his face. “Um. So you know someone’s here even with your eyes closed. Or something.”

Smooth.

Hajime was about to backpedal, or tell Nagito that he could move away if it was weird, but before he could say the words, a fluffy head was delicately placed on his shoulder. Hajime about jumped a foot in the air.

Very smooth.

Nagito jerked away at his reaction, cringing into himself. “I’m sorry, that was too much, I shouldn’t dirty your-”

“No, it’s fine! I mean, I was surprised. Don’t, uh. Don’t worry,” Hajime sputtered. 

Nagito looked at him suspiciously, utterly unconvinced. Nervousness and longing battled in Hajime’s brain, before lightly tugging on the back of the other’s sweatshirt to pull him close again. The same war seemed to be raging in Nagito’s head as well, by the way he was frozen still against him. But when Hajime’s hand kept its grip on the fabric, Nagito finally thawed and turned slightly to curl up against him, his head resting where Hajime’s shoulder met his chest. Hajime was sure Nagito would be able to hear his heart running its own little marathon, but by the way his eyelids had immediately drooped closed, Hajime figured he either didn’t know, or didn’t care.

It didn’t take long for Nagito’s breathing to even out and to lean more heavily against him, even though Hajime still felt like he was going to explode. It was strange how similar their dynamic could be now, compared to how it was in the simulation. Even if Nagito put on a calm and unbothered face, just being around him was enough to fluster Hajime beyond belief. Back then, he had told himself that it was fear, or unease, or maybe even hatred. And granted, Hajime had been scared of him, scared of what he’d do. But he’d been a dumbass in denial for ever thinking that there wasn’t some other feeling lurking beneath.

When his heart slowed from a sprint to a brisk jog, Hajime readjusted himself to drape his arm more comfortably over the other’s shoulders and to rest his cheek against feathery hair. He felt Nagito startle at the sudden touch, but it didn’t take long for him to settle back down with a contented sigh. Like the interaction was completely normal, platonic thing to do with a friend.

Maybe when it came to Hajime’s feelings, they were both dumbasses in denial.

********************

Hajime had gotten two hours of pleasant sleep, before Kazuichi slammed on the breaks and flung everyone forward.

“Kaz, what the fuck?” Hajime grumbled, rubbing his forehead where it had bashed into the seat in front of him. Next to him, Nagito was clutching at his surely-reopened head wound, hissing in a sharp breath through his teeth. Hajime winced.

“There’s people !” Kazuichi squawked.

“There’s people? What do you…?” Makoto said sleepily, before looking up out the window. “What the heck?”

Hajime frowned, pulling himself to his feet for a better look.

About fifteen people were blocking off the road in a thick, clustered line.  They were motionless, unfazed by the bus slowly crawling towards them.

Kazuichi punched the horn. None reacted.

“Are they trying to mug us?” Akane asked, casually stretching her arms.

“But they just look like… regular people,” Komaru noted. She wasn’t wrong; they didn’t seem rough or rugged, or adorned with some gang memorabilia, or even held weapons. They were just regular people in regular clothes, standing in the middle of the street.

“‘Regular people’? Pah!” Gundham scoffed. “Mortals are capable of possessing souls blacker than any demon’s!”

“Stop having some weird morality talk, and tell me what to do!” Kazuichi interrupted.

“Keep going forward, slowly. Be prepared to reverse if need be,” Kyoko ordered.

Kazuichi swallowed and eased off the brakes, inching towards the crowd. But even with the shrinking distance between them and the bus, the people still showed no signs of movement. Once they were just a couple yards away, Hajime saw the same plastic smile pasted identically on each of their faces, with eyes wide and glassy. His blood ran cold.

When the bus stopped again, Kyoko opened a window and called out. “Let us by. We’re just passing through.”

They finally stirred at the sound of Kyoko’s voice, though their expressions didn’t change. The ones closest to her side broke off to get closer, but they didn’t leave a wide enough gap to let the vehicle through. One word bounced across the line, in an awed whisper. 

“Survivor… survivor…”

Kyoko stepped back in surprise, before regaining her composure and leaning back out. “What are you trying to do?”

A man approached even closer to Kyoko, craning his head up to gaze at her face. “Why are you leaving? The show has yet to start, and it would break our hearts if you didn’t attend as honored guests.”

Makoto squished closer to Kyoko to peer out the window as well. “What show are you talking about?” He asked, completely puzzled. 

Several of the people gasped, echoing each other even louder than before.

“Hope… hope…”

They were too stricken with worship to answer, reaching their hands up to try and touch him. Kyoko wrinkled her nose and pushed the boy slightly behind her.

“Move, now. We have weapons,” Peko commanded, unintentionally drawing them towards her side.

“Blackened… Blackened…”

Icy horror crawled through Hajime’s stomach.

“We need to go. Now,” he ordered, concealing the tremors that tried to creep its way into his voice.

“W-we’ve been t-trying to do th-that,” Toko hissed, clinging onto Komaru’s arm.

“Why are they talking about the ‘blackened’?” Sonia asked, fear apparent.

Hajime shook his head. He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to find out, and made his way to the door. 

“Hajime, what are you doing?” Makoto whispered frantically.

“We need to get a move on, right?” Hajime replied, pulling at the handle of the gun in his pocket.

“You’re gonna shoot them?” Fuyuhiko whistled. “That’s new.”

“ Threaten them,” Hajime corrected, before stepping out of the bus. 

Once Hajime was in reaching distance, the people flocked towards him, chanting the word “hope” yet again. But before they could get too close, Hajime pointed his gun at the center of the crowd.

“Leave,” Hajime said simply. But it just seemed to goad them on. The smiles became wider, the arms reached further.

“Let me be a Hope’s first bloodshed,” a woman begged, holding her forehead close to the barrel. Hajime jerked back in shock, gut twisting.

What the fuck?

When Hajime was distracted, a male hand grasped at his waist. But before he could push him off, a gunshot sounded, and blood spurted from the man’s shoulder. Hajime whirled to look behind him, and saw Nagito standing at the doorway, face dangerously calm, gun pointed and smoking.

“Nagito, Jesus! ” Hajime gawked.

But the attacker didn’t scream, or fall, or give any indication of pain at all. He pressed his palm gently on his own wound, staring in disbelief at the redness on his fingers. “The Whitened’s first bloodshed.”

Hajime was shoved aside as the people swarmed to a startled Nagito, now that he had revealed that he was willing to harm. Their position on the road was abandoned, but with Hajime stuck outside and the trespassers pushing in, there was no way Kazuichi could drive off. The crowd begged Nagito to shoot, or stab, or strangle, or poison. They grabbed at him, accidentally knocking him backwards when too much weight was put on his injured leg.

“Get off him!” Hajime snarled, desperately yanking bodies away. Akane and Gundham were trying to pull Nagito further into the bus, but they were too outnumbered to make much difference. 

Then three more shots were fired, this time from the nearby woods, barely skating by the top of the bus.

With the crowd’s attention diverted, Nagito was successfully dragged back in, the passengers of the bus diving away from the windows. Hajime flattened against the side of the vehicle.

“Ugh, culties are sooo annoying,” a boyish voice complained somewhere in the darkness. “Get out of the way.”

What?

“I’m serious! Scram, skedaddle. Or else I, some rando, am gonna kill you, instead of letting your starlets do the job,” he continued. The sound of a cocking gun echoed in the night. “I guess I could kill them instead, if it’s no difference to you. That’d be pretty ironic, huh?” He gave an ominously cheerful snicker.

More bullets whizzed into the air. Hajime cursed and threw himself to the ground. But the threat seemed to work; wails of agony and grief filled the air, even though none were hit. They fled, leaving Hajime and his group alone with their hidden visitor. 

Hajime stayed where he was, adrenaline coursing through him. If he stood up, he’d be an alarmingly easy target.

“Wow, you’re welcome,” the voice snorted.

“Who are you?” Hajime called out from the ground.

“Ghost of Christmas Past, nice to meetcha.”

Hajime raised his eyebrows.

“Look, I’d love to chat, but I’m pretty sure your new besties are dying to reconnect,” he said. “I’m not gonna shoot you. That’d be stupid predictable.”

There was no way in hell that Hajime would trust this trigger-happy kid, but he also wasn’t fond of the idea of getting more acquainted with… whoever those people were. He leaped to his feet and barreled ungracefully into the bus. A hand immediately gripped his wrist with a startling tightness. Hajime could guess who it belonged to.

But no gunshots followed him.

“Um… thanks?” Hajime called hesitantly out the door. 

“No prob, Mr. Hajime, sir!” the boy yelled back.

Hajime blinked. “How do you-?”

But Kazuichi had already begun zooming off.

*********************

All Hajime could think was that it was too easy. Too easy until it wasn’t.

The way their attackers made no attempts to hide their faces when they took the five students hostage. The way a helicopter had practically been brought to Jabberwock on a silver platter to go save them. The way Aozora City had been hidden just enough to be suspicious. The way the cloud had been drawn on the ground. The way the number of Monokumas only increased once Hajime found Nagito.

The way it was easy, right up until the two of them found hope again, before they’d nearly been broken apart.

And there were still so many questions. So many unknowns about Nagito’s stranger, and why the survivors were kidnapped, and what that blockade on the road was about, and who that odd person in the woods was.

Part of Hajime wanted to say to fuck with it. They’d gotten their friends back, didn’t they? Why did it matter, now that they were all safe and together? Maybe the people behind it were simply amateur and evil, and there was no rhyme or reason to their motives and misgivings.

No one else in the group had answers either. He wondered if everyone was scared to think that maybe they weren’t done after all, and by ignoring the problem, it’d simply go away.

But it wouldn’t.

And now Hajime was sitting on the deck of the same boat that they had taken last time, when the 77th class thought that they could finally rest. It seemed to be a common theme.

Hajime decided that he wasn’t a huge fan of boats.

Soft footsteps padded across the wood behind him. His heart thudded in response. Of course.

“Hey, Nagito.”

“Hajime,” Nagito greeted, situating himself beside him.

Hajime remembered the night they had returned to the island from the mainland, when Nagito had joined him on the beach. But the space between them now was a lot smaller, and the company was more comfortable.

“Sonia told me you were working on that. She said you might need help?” Nagito gestured to his prosthetic laying in Hajime’s lap. Nagito had told Hajime it was okay if he wanted to take his time fixing it, but Hajime found that the distraction was a welcome one.

“Oh, yeah. I’m about done with it. Do you wanna try it out?” Hajime asked.

“Only if you want. There’s no need to rush,” Nagito replied, turning his body to face the other. Hajime did the same.

“It’s your arm, dude. I’m not gonna keep it from you,” Hajime said, rolling his eyes. 

He took the other’s outstretched left arm, surprisingly cold despite the warmth in the air. Once the metal had been fitted back over skin, Nagito flexed his hand experimentally. The fingers obediently opened and closed, the wrist twisted and turned.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Hajime,” Nagito beamed.

Hajime cleared his throat and busied himself with his shoelace, wondering how one guy could be so pretty.

“But how did you do it?” Nagito examined the prosthetic. “Did you pick up the parts that had broken off?”

Hajime laughed lightly. “Nope. But I may have had to steal some parts from that radio Ibuki was so excited about.”

Nagito looked a bit crestfallen. “That’s a shame. I was thinking that it might be fun if we put on some music again.”

Hajime pulled Nagito’s left arm back towards him. “There’s music if you press the button on the wrist,” he suggested, pointing at the joint.

Nagito’s eyes widened in excitement, before scanning Hajime’s face and narrowing. “Liar.”

“You were about to try it, though,” Hajime pointed out, smirking.

“I wasn’t,” Nagito denied weakly, but his grin betrayed him.

Hajime snorted.

The two turned their heads to study the waves behind them, reflecting the stars gleaming in the sky. They’d been traveling nonstop for two days, and Hajime desperately missed his own cottage.

Though, he wouldn’t mind if this moment lasted a bit longer.

“When we get back, you should teach me how to dance,” Hajime blurted out.

“Dance?” Nagito repeated, furrowing his brows. “You already know, don’t you?”

“I mean, teach Hajime Hinata how to dance. Like, without having to pull out any talents or anything,” Hajime clarified, feeling a bit stupid.

“Hmm.” Nagito leaned his head on his right hand, studying the other with vague amusement. “Why does Hajime Hinata want to know how to dance?”

Hajime fiddled with his pant leg, feeling self-conscious under the other’s gaze. “I dunno. It was fun when we danced in the boat, wasn’t it?” 

Hajime wondered if Nagito would think the “we” would refer to everyone in their class, or just the two of them. He himself wasn’t sure which he meant. But by the way Nagito’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, Hajime had a feeling how the other took it. He cursed the butterflies thriving in his stomach.

“Didn’t you push me away, and tell me to stop?” Nagito asked. Hajime worried that he’d ruined the mood, but Nagito’s tone was lighthearted, the fond look still on his face.

“Not gonna apologize. You were being a jackass,” Hajime teased.

“You claimed you were having fun back at the party, too,” Nagito said, his expression faltering slightly at his own uncertain wording.

“I claimed I was having fun, because I was having fun,” Hajime corrected. Nagito glanced away sheepishly, obviously trying to stop himself from denying it.

In reality, the party really hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like ages. So much had happened since Hajime had asked Nagito to dance, trying to prove to the both of them that the overwhelming affection he had felt was just for a friend. So much had happened since Nagito was…

The boy in question fell silent, his mind surely traveling to the same place Hajime’s was. Hajime had forgotten that he still had Nagito’s wrist in his grip, when the metal hand had moved slightly to curl around his. 

“Why’d you sacrifice yourself, Nagito?” Hajime whispered.

Nagito stilled and glanced away. “There were only two parachutes, Hajime. Someone had to do it. And you know I’ve always said I wanted to be a stepping stone for…” He faltered. “...For them.”

It was a phrase that he’d said often. To be a stepping stone for something else.

But Nagito didn’t say he wanted to be a stepping stone for hope; for some vague concept that twisted in his mouth. He said he wanted to be a stepping stone for them. For his friends.

“I know. I…” Hajime stopped himself. 

He what? He wished one of the other people he cared about went in Nagito’s place? 

Hajime shook his head, willing the thought away, before starting again. “Why did you sacrifice yourself for me ? You know I could have protected myself.”

Hajime knew why. But he selfishly wanted to hear it again.

“Because I love you,” Nagito replied without hesitation, like it was the most casual thing in the world. He’d said it so many times, after all. 

But it was different now. So, so different.

Hajime took a deep breath. It was now or never, wasn’t it?

“What if I said it was the same for me?”

Thankfully, Nagito didn’t leave him much time to hyperventilate. “Of course you would sacrifice yourself, even for someone like me. You’re very selfless.”
God dammit, of course Nagito would take it like that. If he wanted to, Hajime could have easily turned the conversation away, none the wiser. But the thought of stewing alone in his feelings for even one more day seemed tortuous beyond belief. 

Nagito frowned when he noticed Hajime shaking. “Are you c-”

“I meant why you sacrificed yourself.”

“...I don’t understand,” Nagito replied, somehow still completely oblivious.

“Good God,” Hajime grumbled out loud. Nagito raised his eyebrows. Hajime clenched his teeth and stared down at the deck. “The feelings behind it. Because I have feelings for you. Not just friend feelings, or… or hatred feelings. Romantic feelings. The kind you have for me.” Hajime swallowed, hard. “And you don’t know how sorry I am for not realizing it until I thought it was too late.”

Hajime wondered if Nagito would find some way to manipulate the words in his mind, to make them more comprehensible to someone so self-loathing. But when he finally mustered the courage to lift his face again, a kaleidoscope of unreadable emotions was painted on Nagito's face.

Nagito understood.

“...Come on, man,” Hajime urged weakly. “Say something.”

Nagito’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “You already know how I feel,” he finally spoke, uncertain.

Hajime wasn’t sure which one of them had leaned in during the exchange. Perhaps it was the both of them, unconsciously going along with what they were both thinking. But all Hajime could feel was Nagito’s hand clasped in his, and all he could see was Nagito’s face, and how his eyes drifted lower to rest on Hajime’s lips. 

Hajime’s heart beat double time, green eyes getting nearer, body moving closer and closer; slow enough that Nagito could stop him if he wanted to. And…

Hajime was stopped.

He was stopped by long fingers, placed gently over his mouth.

Hajime practically toppled over backward to move away, yanking his hand out of Nagito’s, his face unbearably hot. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry, I misread that, it was too soon, I’m a desperate jackass and you don’t want to, please forget I ever did that, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Hajime,” Nagito interrupted the babble. His lips were curled in a small, sad smile. “I just… I can’t let you.”

“What? Why?” Hajime sputtered, hating how he sounded like a whiny, bratty child.

“Because I was right, wasn’t I?” Nagito reminded him kindly.

“Right? Right about what?” Hajime blanked, still reeling from the rejection. 

Pity was written all over Nagito’s expression.

Realization struck.

“You think I’m doing this because of Izuru?” Hajime exclaimed. “You think I’m saying this to… to cope?”

“We all deal with trauma in different ways, Hajime,” Nagito explained clinically. “I know I said I wouldn’t be able to say no to you, but I think these past couple of days have thickened my skin a bit, hm?” 

“It’s not trauma, Nagito!” Hajime argued, feeling an unpleasant heat boiling up his chest. “The way I felt when I thought you died, I-!”

“Guilt,” Nagito supplied, smiling still.

“I don’t feel this way because of what Izuru did, I feel this way despite-!”

“ To spite. It’s easier to tell yourself that the two of us are meant to be, or this is some fairytale romance, rather than admitting that you-”

“ Stop telling me how I feel!”

“I won’t let you lie to yourself.”

“ Me lying to myself!? I know you only love me for Izuru!” Hajime snapped.

Nagito’s jaw snapped shut, the warmth in his gaze turning frigid.

“I told you I loved you before I ever remembered Izuru,” Nagito reminded him smoothly.

“You didn’t say you loved me. You said you loved the hope inside me,” Hajime shot back. “You were just trying to talk to him, weren’t you?”

Nagito glared, any trace of affection gone. “Are you saying I sensed him? I’m not a dog , Hajime.”

“Sucks to be told how you feel, huh?” Hajime scowled. He’d gone too far. He knew that. But the dam of negative emotions building up for weeks and weeks was cracking, about to burst on someone who didn’t deserve it.

Nagito stood up abruptly. “Do you think I like this? Or that I want to go back to how things were with Izuru? I was terrible. He was terrible. Things. Were. Terrible ,” Nagito hissed. “Do you know who the stranger turned into, to cause me the most pain? Can you guess?”

Hajime’s throat dried up.

“You don’t act like him. You really don’t. But you look so much like him. You look like him when you’re angry .”

“Nagito, I…” Hajime whispered, suddenly unable to raise his volume any higher. “I didn’t mean…”

“The way I feel about you isn’t fake. Because why would I ever choose this?” Nagito sneered. “You’re dull. You’re artificial and disgusting . You’re nothing. ”

“I know you don’t mean that. I know you’re just trying to push me away,” Hajime accused weakly, his voice breaking.

The smallest amount of guilt and pain flashed in Nagito’s eyes, before it was snuffed out for good.

“You know me so well. Isn’t that nice?” Nagito spat.

Hajime didn’t respond. How could he?

Nagito turned to go back into the ship cabin, sparing no glance at the stricken boy behind him.

Hajime turned to face the waves again.

He fucked up. Of course he did.

It’s what Hajime did best.

Chapter Text

Nagito was wrong. 

Hajime was selfish. 

Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

Though, Nagito knew he wasn’t innocent, either. Even after everything the two had been through, there were still only two routes for Hajime to take when it came to their relationship: forced, awkward friendship, or forced, fake romance. Back at the party, Hajime’s words about genuine companionship had started to fool Nagito into thinking that they could be fine. That they could be normal. 

But as much as Nagito despised the person themself, the stranger’s words had reminded him that the two could never be amicable. 

The timer on their friendship had started its countdown on the Kumo Tower balcony, when Hajime had made his choice clear. The way he’d comforted him, the way he’d held him, so warm and homey and safe. It was easy to pretend that the tears soaking Nagito’s shirt had been real, with strong arms circling his waist and cedar-scented hair tickling his cheek.

It was only a matter of time before Hajime admitted the feelings he’d fooled himself into thinking were real. 

But Nagito thought he had longer. 

Instead, Hajime had only given Nagito two days of blissful denial, before shattering the illusion with his confession of false affection. Nagito had tried to give him the chance to back out of the conversation, acting like he didn’t know exactly what Hajime was going to say. 

It didn’t work. Hajime pressed on. 

Selfish.

He forced Nagito to be the strong one. Nagito.

Selfish.

And Nagito had to be the one to pretend that he hadn’t so desperately wanted to close the gap when Hajime leaned in. Pretend like Nagito hadn’t devoted a mortifying amount of time wondering what it would be like to kiss the lips he’d stared at for so long.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

The strange union of Hajime Hinata and Nagito Komaeda was finished. And Nagito needed to enforce it.

After that horrible argument, Nagito decided that the best course of action was to avoid the other like the plague, which, given their current situation, was difficult. There were only four bedrooms allotted for the twelve students on the boat, and originally, he was slated to share a room with Hajime and Kazuichi. That would obviously be an absolutely terrible idea, but Nagito wouldn’t dare inconvenience anyone by requesting a bed swap. Instead, he had spent the night outside, curled up on the deck. Briefly, he considered the possibility that he could be thrown overboard by a stray wave or an irate crewmember in his sleep. 

Unfortunately, Nagito was still dry and undrowned when he woke up.

He’d also hoped that Hajime would act similarly to the first time he was rejected for his own good: by steering clear as well.

But when Nagito stretched his protesting muscles and stepped into the mess hall, a familiar hand slapped the wall just beyond the doorway, stopping him in his tracks.

He tried to ignore the heart flutter.

“Nagito! Where were you?” Hajime demanded. His hair was mussed and his face was slightly flushed, like he’d been running around for quite a while. He didn’t look angry; he looked frantic.

Nagito pointedly looked at Hajime’s encroaching arm.

“Oh! Sorry, I just…” Hajime snapped his hand back to his side, cheeks flaming. 

Cute . 

“I was looking for you, and I got… worried,” he trailed off. But he didn’t move, still blocking Nagito’s way in the meekest way possible.

Words jumbled in Nagito’s mind.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Please love me.”

“If you’ve got nothing to say, then don’t waste my time.”

Hajime’s eyes widened.

Nagito’s narrowed.

He needed to enforce.

“...Yeah. I guess I don’t,” Hajime mumbled.

The temper that Hajime so often expressed, the temper that Nagito was expecting, was nowhere to be seen. Nagito almost wished that the boy was mad. That Hajime did hate him. Maybe then, the utter defeat and depression on his face wouldn’t sting so badly.

But instead, Nagito watched on as Hajime slipped dejectedly out of the room.

********************

Thirty-one hours and sixteen minutes until they reached Jabberwock.

Or at least, according to the captain of the ship. Nagito had asked him for an ETA about five hours prior. He checked back an hour later. And an hour after that. The captain told him he’d go faster if Nagito left him alone.

So Nagito went up to various crew members and offered to take over their duties. None of them relented; most making the excuse of not wanting to “go against procedure”. Nagito wondered if they’d heard of what he’d done in the past, and didn’t want to be held responsible.

Nagito’s questions were partly out of boredom, but mostly out of desperation. It was terribly hard avoiding someone when the two parties involved were stuck on the same boat, and it was even worse considering that a confrontation would be more likely if Nagito was caught alone. On the other hand, the other passengers were definitely still not comfortable with him. They couldn’t be. So if Nagito attempted to be in their company, they’d probably drag Hajime into the conversation as a way to ease the tension. considering that Hajime was the best at pretending to tolerate Nagito

Thirty-one hours and sixteen minutes was a very, very long time.

Eventually, Nagito did get spotted, even though he thought his hiding place was quite clever. 

Komaru shrieked when she swung open the supply closet door to find Nagito, sitting on the floor next to a bunch of mop heads. 

“Komaru? Are you alright?” Nagito heard Sonia call out before she rushed to Komaru’s side. Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair when she discovered what the other girl had found, before quickly covering up her surprise. “Oh! Hello, Nagito. What... are you doing here?”

That was a fair question, but Nagito really didn’t want to give the real answer. “Hm… I was bored.”

“Wh-what does that even mean?” Toko trudged into view.

Another good question.

“Um… If you are bored, why don’t you join the three of us?” Sonia broke the awkward pause with a kind smile, holding her hand out to Nagito, still on the floor. “I was just telling Komaru and Toko about what we all like to do for fun at Jabberwock.”

Nagito considered the offer. Out of all the other islanders, Sonia was probably the one who had made the best attempt at getting closer to him. Granted, it was most likely out of guilt and pity, but she was good at faking the warmth. Ironically, Komaru also seemed to be decent at putting up with him, judging by the way she had tried to talk to him like a non-enemy back at her house in Towa City. And Toko was… Well. He’d count his losses.

Sonia’s face lit up when Nagito hesitantly took her hand. She was a good actress.

The four ended up seated around a table near where Nagito had woken up that morning. Sonia and Komaru were reveling in the gentle sunlight, though Toko had scooted her chair back into the shade under the awning. Nagito was tempted to do the same. At least they had that in common.

“-and Kazuichi says that we will be able to use it soon! Have you ridden a rolling coaster before?” Sonia asked excitedly.

Rollercoaster, Nagito corrected internally.

“Of course! Oh, but it’s been so long…” Komaru sighed. “Do you think it’ll be finished while we’re there?”

“Don’t ride a rollercoaster that hasn’t passed any inspections yet!” Toko scolded. “Also, no! They’re terrifying.”

“Hmm…” Sonia pondered, before her eyes landed on Nagito. “What do you like to do in Jabberwock?”

Nagito startled at the attention. He’d spent the time simply listening to the three girls talk; he usually preferred being a bystander to a conversation. It was harder to mess something up if he didn’t participate. But maybe his silence was making them uneasy; maybe they thought he was plotting something.

“...The library,” he decided. Two innocent words couldn’t do that much harm, could they? But he was still being watched expectantly, like they were encouraging him to say more. Didn’t they know that was dangerous territory? “I… like to read at the library,” Nagito tried again.

Komaru brightened. “I made Makoto put a bunch of Toko’s books in the Jabberwock library!” She threw an arm over Toko’s shoulders proudly. “Have you read any of them? They’re amazing, right?”

“I have,” Nagito answered carefully. “They were very… well-written, though I’m not really a fan of love stories.”

Toko gawked, almost horrified. “Wh-what?! F-first off, they’re not just ‘love stories’. Second, what kind of p-person doesn’t like their b-books to have romance?”

Oh God.

Nagito knew it was only a matter of time before he broke down again, but he hoped he’d at least see it coming. Instead, he’d apparently said something so horrible, so wretched, without meaning to. Was he that far gone? This was why he kept his mouth shut; after hearing and seeing the stranger reveal those malicious truths, every word that left Nagito’s lips was bound to be poison. Whether or not he meant them innocently, didn’t matter at all.

His vision pulsed, his blood burned and froze, his head pounded, his lungs constricted. The world shrunk to a pinpoint, and-

“Nagito said he did not like the romance genre . Perhaps he is like me, and appreciates romantic subplots more?” Sonia corrected, completely unaware of Nagito’s turmoil. Komaru and Toko weren’t looking either. None of them were the wiser.

The panic made a grudging retreat; a feral beast stalling its pounce.

“Remember the manga I let you borrow back in Towa City? You haven’t gotten to the really juicy part yet, but the romance subplot between the two main characters is just…!” Komaru let out a little squeal. “If the rest of the volumes aren’t at the library, I’ll make Makoto ship those in, too. Don’t worry!”

Nagito wasn’t worried. He wasn’t a fan of the manga. Not that he’d ever say that, of course. He’d learned his lesson.

“D-don’t read that trash. I’ll give you actual book recommendations,” Toko suggested.

Nagito blinked. “Thank you. I’m honored you’d think of me.”

“D-don’t word it like that, it’s creepy!” Toko protested, but she looked pleased.

“Does Hajime like manga, too?” Komaru asked him.

Nagito’s fingers clawed into his leg under the table.

Komaru smiled at him pleasantly, waiting for an answer. Nagito held his tongue, hoping that they would just move on. Maybe they didn’t invite him along out of politeness; maybe this was some odd form of torture, poking at his sensitivities and pretending it was accidental.

“...Why are you asking me that?” Nagito finally spoke.

“Huh?” Komaru blinked at his abrasive tone. She fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, I was just… making conversation, I guess?”

In his peripheral, Nagito saw Sonia shoot him a concerned, sidelong glance.

“I… don’t know what books he reads,” Nagito lied. Hajime liked reading mystery books before the simulation, but now, he found that it was too

“He probably reads something d-dumb, like pretentious s-screenplays or something,” Toko grumbled. “He w-was a huge j-jerk when we met.”

Don’t call him that

“That is not true!” Sonia defended. “He was just worried. I am sure that if you ask him to, he would apologize.”

He was worried about Nagito

“Sonia’s right! I talked to him earlier, he was really nice! Give him a chance,” Komaru insisted, poking Toko playfully on the shoulder.

Was that before or after he and Nagito

Toko pouted. “Maybe if he-”

“Hajime, Hajime, why do we always have to talk about Hajime?” Nagito hissed.

Dead quiet. Wide eyes.

Toko didn’t respond to the sudden interruption; whether it be out of surprise, anger, or pure fear, Nagito wasn’t sure. Komaru’s stare was tensely flicking between the two. Sonia was nervously chewing on her lip.

Nagito threw a shaking hand over his mouth. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the mood like a rusted blade. The spiral was coming; he could feel it pressing against his skull. But he had to push it down, push it down, push it-

“We can change the subject!” Sonia interjected quickly. 

Why Sonia had come to his rescue was a mystery, but Nagito still didn’t dare remove his palm. Not with an outburst so close, crawling up his throat like bile.

“Y-yeah!” Komaru agreed with false cheer, tearing her eyes away from the boy who was one second from bursting. “Um… What else is there to do in Jabberwock?”

Sonia turned away from Nagito, attempting to get back into the rhythm of conversation. “Well, that depends. What do you two like to do in Towa City?”

Nagito twitched. 

Towa City. 

“You lie to yourself. You know the truth, don’t you?”

“You claim I used you for personal gain, but it was you who used me as an outlet for self-destruction. And that is why I left.”

“I know you only love me for Izuru!”

Snap. 

“Oh, wonderful job! You really had me convinced!” Nagito exclaimed, his chair toppling to the ground as he jumped to his feet. He couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, couldn’t- “For a moment, you managed to make me believe that your kindness was purely goodwill! But you followed me here, didn’t you?”

“H-he is c-crazy, I t-told you!” Toko accused. She had pulled herself against the wall behind her, terror apparent on her face. 

“Nagito, what are you saying?” Sonia worried. 

“Do you mean the stranger?” Komaru had a death grip on Toko’s arm. “Remember, Hajime said-”

“Of course we remember Hajime, he’s the only thing positive thing about Nagito!” He rasped a joyless laugh, feeling his fingernails digging into his scalp. “But the blurred line between Hajime Hinata and Mr. Kamukura, that’s where the toxicity lies!”

“Nagito, please-!” Sonia begged, but her message landed on deaf ears. 

“Why’d you come, hmm? How’d you get here? I could have sworn I saw Izuru back at the tower, but who knows!” Nagito wanted to shut up, shut up, shut- “Crushing hope with despair with a false sense of security, that’s what this is, right? Very repetitive, but I’ll be damned if it’s not effective on vermin like me!”

The world turned red and upside down. He couldn’t breathe. Spiraling, spiraling. 

“I don’t want it to be effective, I don’t want it, I don’t want to be like this!” Nagito gasped, wood hitting his knees as his legs gave out. “Stop reading me, stop knowing me, get out, get out, GET OUT-!”

CRACK!

A metal hand went ricocheting into the air. Nagito didn’t notice that he’d slammed his left arm onto the corner of the table until he felt the sharp pinch of the now-warped prosthetic twisting off. The clatter of the appendage hitting the ground was clearly audible, as if the waves themselves were shocked motionless. 

“Ow,” Nagito muttered. 

Maybe it was for the best that he’d ostracized Hajime; he would have been repulsed by Nagito’s display. He was terrible, disgusting; the kind of filth that needed to be disposed of in the passing sea. 

But before Nagito could stand, two delicate hands clasped gently around his one remaining. 

“Nagito, can you hear me?” Sonia asked quietly, breaking through the ringing in his mind. 

He nodded. The void that the chaos had left was filled with numbness. 

“You are safe here. You are with friends. None of us are here to hurt you,” she soothed. 

“Sonia’s right,” Komaru said in a small voice. She was pale, and undeniably frightened, but she hadn’t run away. She didn’t scream. Instead, she held out the back of her hands. “See?”

Her nails were unpainted and blunt; not red, not sharp. Not the stranger’s. 

After getting a nudge from Komaru, Toko mimicked her pose, though she was shaking like a leaf. Ragged, chewed nails. 

And Sonia’s, still on his knuckles, were oval, painted a light pink. 

“I’m crazy,” Nagito murmured. He waited for the girls’ enthusiastic agreement, but it never came. 

“Y-you’re not c-crazy, you’ve got t-trauma, ” Toko dismissed. Komaru and Sonia looked as surprised as Nagito felt, that Toko had spoken up in his defense. “J-just, umm… close your eyes.”

Nagito hesitantly obeyed. 

“F-focus on the feel of Sonia’s hands, and the floor under your legs, and what the breeze feels like. Listen to the waves, smell the ocean. Focus on everything that reminds you that you’re here,” Toko ordered, her voice taking on a strange confidence that she usually lacked. “...wh-what? Don’t l-look at me like that! You th-think I haven’t been to th-therapy before?”

Nagito guessed he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part. 

But he tried to do what she said, tried to ground himself in reality. To remember that this wasn’t Aozora, this wasn’t Towa, and there was no stranger here; just three people talking to him in kind voices, even after his rage.

“Focus on me, too,” Komaru offered, bravely putting an arm around Nagito’s back. 

“D-don’t just t-touch him without permission!” Toko protested. 

Komaru stuttered apologies and started to retract, but Nagito whispered a quick, “It’s fine.” He was too tired, too drained to spew his usual self-deprecation. 

The floor creaked as Toko got to her knees to join them, one singular finger poking on his arm. 

“M-me too. I g-guess,” she grumbled. Another surprise. 

“We will be here as long as you need us, yes?” Sonia offered. Nagito opened his eyes back to see her smiling gently at him. Smiling genuinely at him. 

Nagito felt his throat start to close up.

“...Okay.”

*******************

Nagito wasn’t sure how long the four of them stayed like that; sitting on the deck, no words exchanged. Once he was able to convince them that he was alright being alone (because he did have to convince them; the fact that they wouldn’t leave on their own accord warmed his heart in an unfamiliar way), he wandered aimlessly around the ship. The need to hide was one that was crowded out of his mind, until later that night, when it was much too late.

Nagito was sitting in the mess hall when he saw Hajime approach. Unfortunately, fleeing was out of the question; Nagito’s now-fixed prosthetic was in the other’s hands.

The bench creaked slightly as Hajime sat next to him. He’d left plenty of space between the two of them, but it was charged with dreadful tension.

Hajime cleared his throat. “Um… Sonia brought me your arm earlier. She said you fell and broke it?”

So, Sonia had lied for him. Evidently, Nagito’s turmoil over the boy was obvious enough for her to not only play their middle man, but to stop him from badgering Nagito with unwanted questions. That was… thoughtful. 

And apparently not very effective.

“Yes,” Nagito replied curtly, staring at some fixed point in front of him.

“Must have been a bad fall to break it, huh?” Hajime said, trying and failing spectacularly to sound casual. A slight, uncertain waver laced his words, and Nagito assumed that if he wasn’t looking very resolutely away, he’d see a blush dusting his cheeks.

Nagito didn’t respond, hoping that Hajime would just stay leave.

But he persisted. “Does your leg still-”

“Are you holding my arm hostage just to make meager small talk?” Nagito interrupted smoothly.

There was an audible click when Hajime snapped his jaw shut. 

When Hajime wordlessly held the arm out for him to take, Nagito finally looked over. It was necessary, but he wished he hadn’t. Because then, he wouldn’t have seen the undeniable desperation and hurt on his face, or the telltale red rimming both eyes. 

Nagito did this. Nagito did this, and it broke his heart.

But he needed to enforce.

He took the arm and stood up to leave.

“Nagito, wait!” A hand shot out to hold onto Nagito’s wrist. Traitorous goosebumps spread at the contact. “I… Can I talk to you? Please?”

Tell me you love me.

Tell me you hate me.

“Are we ready to tell the truth this time?” Nagito asked, voice dripping with patronization.

Hajime bristled. “I told you, I wasn’t lying- ”

Nagito snatched his wrist back, and left.

********************

After two days at sea, Jabberwock Island finally, finally came into view. Nagito was almost surprised; if someone had told him that he’d actually died back in Aozora City, and was in some cruel limbo, he might have bought it. 

But there it was, steadily approaching, all of the ship’s passengers pressed against the railing. 

“It’s a sight for sore eyes, isn’t it?” Makoto laughed next to him. “Happy to be home?”

Nagito nodded. Very much so. 

On the other side of Makoto, Kyoko was pensive, absentmindedly picking at her gloves. It didn’t take another detective to figure out her thought process. Who knew if, or when, they would be attacked again? But Nagito couldn’t find it in himself to think about it. Not now. 

Akane was the first one out, leaping into the dock before the boat had fully stopped and into Nekomaru’s massive arms.

“HA! I KNEW you would be able to take care of yourself!” Nekomaru boomed, his embrace constricting enough that Nagito was surprised the girl didn’t break in half.

“Fuck yeah, babe!” She crowed back.

The left-behind islanders, as well as the three Future Foundation members, had gathered on the beach, excitedly awaiting their arrival. Hajime had called beforehand and briefed them about everyone’s safety, but Nagito could see the worry clearly melt out of their expressions when they could confirm it for themselves.

Hina yanked Makoto and Kyoko into a tight hug, while Hiro told them that he wasn’t worried about their wellbeing at all; the stars had told him that they had a 70% chance of survival. Hina pointed out that he’d actually said the opposite. He ignored her. Toko didn’t acknowledge Byakuya’s presence at all, which he appeared slightly miffed at. Komaru gave him an awkward wave.

As the rest of the passengers stepped off the boat and into their classmates’ loving mob, Nagito stayed where he was, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. What if he was dreaming, and once he stepped on solid ground, he would wake up, back in that horrid cell in Kumo Tower? 

But when he saw Nami barking and whining at the sight of her previously-missing owner, Nagito couldn’t help himself from running (or perhaps hobbling; his leg was still sprained) to join them.

Nagito’s shoe sunk into the sand when he touched down. This was real. He was awake. He was home.

And then an excruciating pain detonated in his head.

A cry left his lips as he fell to his hands and knees, but he couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing behind his ears. All he could see was darkness, darkness, darkness; but he was very much conscious enough to feel every paining throb. A wet canine nose buried in his shoulder in concern, before quickly being replaced by a familiar hand. 

“Nagito, what’s happening?!” Hajime demanded. Nagito felt him kneel next to him, but his vision was still shot. 

“Head hurts,” Nagito tried to say, but all that came out was gurgles and gibberish. What was happening? Was he dying? Was this divine punishment? It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

The ground disappeared from under Nagito’s legs as he was tilted out of his fetal position and scooped up.

“Mikan, hospital, now,” Hajime ordered, his chest buzzing against Nagito’s cheek. 

“Y-yes!” Mikan squeaked, somewhere to his left. 

Instead of a protest, Nagito let out a pitiful groan. 

The agony didn’t let up in the slightest as he was moved from sand to bed; if anything, it worsened with each hastened step. For every whimper, Nagito was held tighter and higher, Hajime’s chin burying further and further into his hair. 

“Does y-your head hurt?” Mikan asked as soon as Nagito felt a mattress dip underneath him. He’d been clutching onto his skull for dear life.

“Mm-hmm,” Nagito managed, tears squeezing out of his scrunched eyelids. 

“Does a-anything else?”

“Nn-nn.”

“Where on your head?” Hajime asked, his voice flattening as the Ultimate Doctor came out. 

“‘Vrywhere,” Nagito gasped. 

Two pairs of hands felt around his scalp, searching for some wound or explanation. A thin finger pressed lightly on the sore at the back. 

“This is w-where you were hit, r-right?” Mikan checked. 

It was. Although it was far from pleasant, the hurt that radiated out when she made contact was nowhere near as torturous as what he was already feeling. 

Then Hajime’s palm paused on a spot just above Nagito’s hairline, oddly numb and unnaturally raised. 

“What? These… are these stitches?” Hajime asked in disbelief. 

And as if to answer, the screen mounted on the wall filled with static; the same screen that hadn’t been used in a very, very long time.

“Are you serious!? I leave you guys for a couple months, and this is what I come back to? How disappointing…”

Nagito’s eyes popped open at that horribly familiar voice.

As soon as the monitor had turned on, the intense pain in Nagito’s brain had lessened into a slightly-more manageable headache, and he was able to survey his surroundings. Hajime and Mikan were on either side of him, and in the hall, just outside the doorway, was Komaru, Makoto, Kyoko, Sonia, Ibuki… more people than he’d expected would care about his mysterious ailment. But all their eyes were trained fearfully on the video of-

“Still, seeing all my precious little students in one place… it really does bring this bear to tears!” Monokuma swiped a stubby paw at a dry eye. “Kinda makes a guy wanna have cubs of his own, ya know?”

Makoto was the first to unfreeze, stepping boldly up to the screen. “What… What is this? What are you doing here?” His voice was confident, but his legs were trembling underneath him.

“Jeez, so impatient, too!” Monokuma sniffed. The conversation echoed around the building, on every screen and speaker on Jabberwock, for every one of his classmates to see and hear. 

There was no escaping it.

“I need all you little bastards to get your butts back to Aozora City, of course!” Monokuma screeched.

“Like hell we are!” Fuyuhiko protested, buzzing through the speakers from wherever on the island he was.

Monokuma burst into a disgusting cackle. “Pretty sure that wasn’t a question, baby-face!” 

“Why?” Kyoko asked, cool as ever.

“What?! There’s no fun in spoilers!” Monokuma gasped.

“Then we have no reason to go,” Byakuya crackled in calmly.

“Ah, darn…” Monokuma sighed, before perking back up and grabbing some strange remote from offscreen. “Wait, I got an idea!”

He pressed the button.

A violent thud reverberated through the room as Nagito slammed his head into the wall to escape the agony shooting through his synapses once again. Curses and cries ripped from his throat before being muffled against a shoulder.

“What the fuck did you do !?” Hajime demanded, his hand pressing Nagito’s face against him to shield the boy from causing himself any more harm.

“Stop at once! You are hurting him!” Sonia pleaded.

“Uh, yeah. That’s the point,” Monokuma deadpanned. The button and the pain were released. Nagito pushed Hajime pettily away.

“I’m feelin’ nice… How’s about I give you a choice?” Monokuma said. “Take your pals and get back in the boat, or I give Nagito here a headache of a lifetime!”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Nagito and Hajime spoke at the same time. They glared.

“It’s a no? Hmm. Plan B then!” Monokuma said cheerfully.

An explosion, but not inside Nagito’s head.

The walls shook from the hellish boom, a column of fire visible in the distance from the window.

“Don’t wanna pay your old headmaster a visit? That’s fine; I’ll just have fun with the bombs my friends put around the island!” Monokuma exclaimed.

Nagito had a feeling that this was the real plan all along.

“Is everyone okay!?” Komaru demanded, terrified.

“You’re new here, so I’ll cut ya a little slack. Killing for no reason just isn’t my style,” Monokuma assured, but elicited no peace of mind. “But I can’t promise no one’s gonna accidentally be a little too close...”

Another explosion, further in the distance. Kazuichi shrieked in terror from the speakers.

“Get back here, or I blow your home to smithereens! You too, if you wait too long!” Monokuma giggled. 

Hajime cursed. Nagito couldn’t blame him.

“Now don’t all raise your hands at once!” Monokuma scolded, despite no one having done so. “I’ll streamline the Q and A.”

And Makoto walked onscreen.

“It was egg boy all along! Ibuki knew it!” Ibuki gasped from the hallway.

Makoto, the real Makoto, whirled to face her. “That’s not me! That’s-”

“The stranger,” Nagito interrupted, hatred unhidden. 

Of course.

Not-Makoto clenched a manicured hand in front of his face. “But Mr. Monokuma, why would you let us leave Aozora City in the first place just to make us come all the way back?”

“‘Cause what’s a Hope’s Peak reunion without all the alumni!? I need all of you here!” Monokuma piped up from next to the stranger. “And I didn’t feel like getting everyone else myself… I seriously hate running errands.”

Or maybe it was because they had been successful in their escape. But Nagito figured that would go unmentioned.

“So? We’ll just go somewhere else! We don’t have to go to stupid Aozora!” Not-Hiyoko scoffed. There was no puff of air at the transformation, but Nagito was unable to resist the urge to blink, masking the transition between the stranger’s disguises. He saw the rest of the group do the same. 

“Or we shall stay at sea, living out the rest of our lives at the mercy of the demons beneath the waters!” Not-Gundham declared.

“Good gracious, giving away your plans like that? So dumb!” Monokuma crowed. “But ya see, our little Nagito is multipurpose! I can ruin his day, obviously, but he’s also traceable, like a dumb, chipped dog.”

Nagito’s fingers flew to the wound on his forehead. How had he not noticed it? The slightly raised skin, not just from an incision, but from some sort of contraption lodged in the bone like a robotic parasite. 

“You monster! Heathen!” The Hajime on the screen gasped, while the real one stiffened. “You just wanted to blow up Jabberwock!”

“That’s not a QUESTION!” Monokuma screeched, one more explosion punctuating his last word. “And of course! You’re all just a buncha cowards, you know that? Hiding on your own private island while the rest of the world burns, because of something you did! It’s so selfish, I’d be proud if it didn’t make me sick!”

But it wasn’t like he was wrong, was it? They’d been called the Remnants of Despair for a reason, wreaking havoc in Junko Enoshima’s stead. They deserved to be punished, but instead they were living in a permanent vacation. It was terrible, and everyone knew it. 

They just couldn’t admit it. 

Another boom. 

“Oops, look at the time! I’ve held you back a little too long, haven’t I?” Monokuma said. “Better hurry to your next class, now! You don’t wanna be late!”

The nonstop sound of detonation and wreckage chorused through the air; one bomb after another. 

“Get back to the boat!” Makoto shouted, pushing the crowd around him towards the exit. 

Nagito didn’t move. 

They were tracking him, right? If he stayed on the island, the rest could escape, and-

Nagito was tugged back into Hajime’s arms. 

“Let go of me, I can walk!” Nagito snarled, pushing and kicking against Hajime’s hold like a fussy baby. 

But he resisted. “No! I know what you’re thinking, I-!”

“Oh? Looks like we’ve got one more question!” Monokuma called above the cacophony. 

“Mr. Monokuma, I’ve got a habit of pulling annoying self-sacrificial stunts. It’s all I’m good for, after all,” Nagito heard his own voice sigh. “Can I just do that and call it a day?”

Dammit. 

“Now, that is a good question,” Monokuma replied thoughtfully. “But you know what’s boring? Repetition!” 

Nagito saw the paw move towards the remote. Even so, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer torture that radiated from his skull to his neck to his everything, until he could see, feel, taste nothing but pain, pain, pain. 

“So let’s take that free will outta the equation, shall we?” Monokuma’s words were buffered by the wild heartbeat surging behind Nagito’s eardrums. “Of course, someone could always off you them-”

Darkness. 

********************

The boat ride to the mainland took two days. He knew it did; they had just done it. But to Nagito, time meant nothing. It took years, it took seconds, it took inches, it took thousands upon thousands of miles. 

Mostly, time was simply filled with either unconsciousness, or suffering. 

Nagito woke up sporadically during the trip. Each time, he saw a vague silhouette of a boy, felt a water bottle press to his lips, felt his sweaty hair brushed from his forehead, heard comforting words over his own screams. 

There were three moments of lucidity. 

The first came gradually; sluggishly pulled out of the cotton of sleep and into the harsh light of the ship cabin. The pain was still there, but it had become manageable. 

“Uh,” Nagito croaked. 

“Nagito, thank God,” Hajime whispered, his face appearing above him. Of course Hajime had stayed with him. He was good. So, so good. “Does it still hurt?”

“Little,” he slurred. He shifted slowly, and felt his head bump into… something. A hand. It hesitantly expanded, fingers combing gently through his tangled hair. Nagito smiled hazily, eyes closed, leaning into the touch. Normally, he despised people messing with his hair; he was a neat freak, through and through. But it was so nice when Hajime…

Nagito’s eyes snapped open. 

Wait a minute. 

Hajime was slapped away. 

“Really?” He grumbled. 

Nagito ignored him, trying to remind his fuzzy mind all what had happened. 

“The others… are they…?” Nagito asked. 

“Everyone’s on the ship. Nami too,” Hajime assured. 

“We’re going to Aozora,” Nagito said flatly. It wasn’t a question. Of course they were. They’d probably be blown out of the water if they weren’t. 

“... Yeah,” Hajime answered, turning his gaze to his lap. 

“You should have just left me. Thrown me overboard,” Nagito muttered. 

“No!” Hajime interjected fiercely. “No one wants that. No one’s even mentioned it.”

Because they were scared. Because they think Hajime cares for him. 

Nagito remembered; he needed to enforce. 

“Why? I’d rather drown than spend another second with a reserve,” he scowled, but the bite was weak. 

Hajime rolled his eyes. “That insult’s not all that effective anymore.”

“Get out of my space. I don’t want to see you,” Nagito growled. 

Hajime chewed his lip. 

It was all terribly familiar. Spewing venom at Hajime while Nagito lay sick in bed. When he was stricken with the despair disease, his words had been unintentional; thoughts getting lost in translation before being vocalized. But now, he spoke with intention, purposefully cruel. 

But they were lies all the same. 

And just like before, Hajime pretended to believe them. 

“I… don’t want to crowd you. But right now, I can’t…” Hajime swallowed thickly, his expression conflicted. “I can’t leave you like this. Not when you’re in-”

Pain. 

Pain. 

Painpainpainpainpain

Nagito writhed and shrieked, limbs flailing, and he faded away to the sound of Hajime screaming his name.

***

The second time Nagito woke, the lights were out, the room only illuminated by the moon shining through the window. The end of the bed was oddly dipped, though, and a strange weight was resting on his feet.

“Nami!” Nagito whispered, as excited as his heavy mind could allow.

At the sound of her name, the dog pounced on Nagito’s chest, her whole body wiggling with the force of her wagging tail.

“Good girl, I missed you,” Nagito cooed as she gleefully licked his cheek. He went to pet her, but realized that his left hand was already clenched around another.

Hajime was slumped over in the chair next to him, snoring ungracefully. Nagito uncurled his fingers. He didn’t remember grabbing him, but the bruising he’d left behind on Hajime’s knuckles led him to think that it must have happened hours ago; an instinctive move when he was thrashing in agony. Hajime had never let go.

Nagito despised the rush of emotions that came with realization. So, he wrapped his arms around Nami and willed himself back to sleep before either kind of pain had a chance to hit again.

***

The third time Nagito woke was the last. Everything looked and felt surprisingly clear, like he’d simply taken a very, very long nap.

But Nami and Hajime were gone.

Nagito peeled the covers back and took a hesitant step onto the floor. His legs were wobbly from two days without use, and one was still sprained, but they worked nonetheless. He took a quick swig from the water bottle next to him and placed a hand on the door. On the other side, he could hear the voices of his friends. But they were angry. Scared. Nagito emerged.

His stomach turned at the sight.

They had docked at the same place they had left; the bay area just beyond the road leading to Aozora City. But the previously vacant harbor was filled with hundreds, thousands of people; eerily quiet despite their number.

And the sky was red.

Again.

“What’s happening?” Nagito murmured. His classmates were bunched on the deck in front of him, radiating fear and confusion.

Mahiru, the one closest to him, whirled around. “Nagito!” Her surprise quickly shifted to uneasiness. “You’re… awake.”

He frowned at the odd reaction. Sure, he couldn’t have been a pretty sight, but he figured that they had bigger things to worry about.

But then Hiyoko spoke, clinging onto Mahiru, trembling. “She said she won’t start without you.”

She?

Against his better judgement, Nagito moved forward through the crowd of his classmates. Sonia, Komaru, and Ibuki looked relieved to see him up and okay, but most froze with terrified anticipation.

Makoto and Hajime were at the very front of the ship, facing off silently against their audience.

No, not against the audience. Against the figure standing in the center of the road, a wide berth given around them.

At the sound of Nagito’s approach, Hajime glanced behind him, before swiftly taking hold of the other’s shoulders. Nagito was too bewildered to shake him off.

“Listen to me. She’s not real, okay? It’s just the stranger. It’s not… It’s not her. ” Hajime’s eyes bored into Nagito’s, frantically trying to get the message across.

“What are you-”

“Oh my God, are you actually up now? Ugh, I stopped pressing the button, like, forever ago!”

Nagito hadn’t heard her voice in person very often. Two or three times, tops. But it was one that had been broadcast worldwide, sinking its teeth into memories like a leech. Everyone knew it. Everyone felt it. No one forgot it.

“It’s not her,” Hajime hissed again.

Nagito knew that. She was dead. He’d seen her body himself.

But despair never died. Even if its host was destroyed.

Junko Enoshima  

The stranger  

Junko Enoshima  

The stranger  

grinned at Nagito, and raised her megaphone to her lips.

“With all of our former cast members present, and without further fuckin’ ado…”

Not now.

“...I’m excited to announce…”

Not again.

“This season of Danganronpa!” Cheered Junko Enoshima The stranger Junko Enoshima The stranger Junko-

Chapter Text

“With all of our former cast members present, and without further fuckin’ ado, I’m excited to announce this season of Danganronpa!”

Junko’s - no, the stranger’s - words echoed throughout the packed harbor. The audience broke their eerie silence with thunderous applause.

“‘Danganronpa’? What is that?” Makoto muttered, mostly to himself. 

Hajime shook his head. “Danganronpa”, meaning “Bullet Refutation”: it didn’t make a lick of sense. Drones circled around the boat for footage, displaying his friends’ equally frightened and confused faces on gigantic screens towering above the people.

The stranger had completely changed the harbor in just four days.

They had an army.

“What are you waiting for!? Come on over, make your grand entrance!” Junko urged, a chaotic grin plastered on her face. 

Back at Jabberwock, Monokuma had said that whatever was about to happen would take place in Aozora City, and judging by the massive, distastefully-pink plane at the end of the road, they’d be escorted there by the stranger themself; this was merely some fucked-up ceremony of his classmates’ arrival.

Like hell were they stepping off that boat. 

Junko slumped over at their refusal, her tone turning depressed and monotonous. “Oh… you don’t want to? Fine… Is this better?” 

She pulled something out of her cleavage and sluggishly tapped it. If Hajime had any doubt on what the thing was, it was cleared from his mind when Nagito was yanked from his horrified stupor, stumbling to his knees with a sharp gasp of pain.

Shit.

Hajime lunged and grabbed him under the arms, pulling him back to his feet. “We’re coming, stop!”

“Aha! Look at that, the peasant can be clicker-trained!” Junko declared proudly, releasing the button. Nagito shoved him away. Looked like he was still dead-set on being a jerk.

But Hajime had bigger things to worry about.

Immediately, one of the camera’s flew in front of Makoto’s face, making him take a startled step back.

“Everyone put your hands together for Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky Student number one, the cutie-patootie protagonist of our very, very first game!” Junko announced.

Makoto gritted his teeth and shot Hajime a look; some mix between fear and exasperation.

“You know she’s going to pull some other shit to get us over there if we don’t do it ourselves,” Hajime muttered. Torturing Nagito was just a way to instill pain and guilt; there would be another form of “motivation” lurking if it didn’t work. Like destroying Jabberwock.

Makoto nodded tensely and made his way towards the stranger; towards whoever was wearing the face of his worst enemy. The word “hope” reverberated through the audience, repeated until Makoto halted.

“Good to see you, sweetie!” Junko whispered. Her fake saccharine voice was still picked up by the megaphone. “Stand over by the plane, we’re gonna need a pic for the tabloids!”

Jesus.

“Next up, Kyoko Kirigiri, Ultimate Detective number one, Makoto’s cold, aloof partner in anti-crime!” Junko yelled.

Kyoko exited the boat, resolute and unshaking. But Hajime had gotten to know her a bit more in the past week or so; the almost-unnoticeable bite of her bottom lip gave away her stress. Another camera, another march to the plane. Hajime saw her say something quietly to Makoto, who shook his head in response. “Survivor” was echoed by the crowd after her. No doubt, they were the group that the people that had blocked their bus belonged to.

But “Ultimate Detective number one”? Was there another?

The rest of the 78th class was called; Byakuya Togami, Toko Fukawa, Aoi Asahina, and Yasuhiro Hagakure; all “survivors”. Junko’s labels got more and more degrading as the list went on; “Aoi Asahina, Ultimate Swimming Pro, airheaded whore”, and “Yasuhiro Hagakure, Ultimate Clairvoyant, survivor despite everyone’s expectations”. Hajime wondered if they were listed by importance, as much as he felt bad for thinking it.

Then the 77th class was called next.

“And now for our second game alumni!” Junko cheered. “Hajime Hinata, Ultimate… hmm...” She faded out, tapping a fingernail to her lips.

Ultimate what? If she said “Ultimate Reserve Course”, Hajime might have to slug her.

“Let’s start over!” She corrected herself. “Izuru Kamukura, Ultimate Hope, the Ultimate Everything , the hottie with a different body!”

That was so much worse.

But before he could take a step, his sleeve was tugged.

“Don’t,” Nagito muttered.

Mentioning Izuru around Nagito was always a bad idea. Hajime stiffened, wondering if he was going to be told that he dare not step forward in place of the wonderful “Mr. Kamukura”. But…

“Don’t try to attack her. Don’t try to pull anything. I know you want to,” Nagito continued, eyes down. “That’s why there’s so many people. To attack you if something goes wrong. Or anyone.”

The small glimpse of the non-hostile, protective Nagito was jarring.

“...Yeah,” Hajime relented, sliding his hand up to briefly squeeze Nagito’s. The sudden boldness shocked the both of them, and Nagito turned away, though not before Hajime saw the pink in his cheeks.

Cute.

Despite what all his instincts were screaming, Hajime stepped off the boat and approached the stranger. Up close, the sheer amount of people in one small area was suffocating, even with the wide space between them and the street. Thousands of eyes were trained on his body, thousands of mouths forming “hope”. He hadn’t noticed before, but Monokumas were lining the edges of the audience; not the seemingly free-thinking kind from the killing games, but the attack robots from Kumo Tower.

But Hajime kept his glare locked onto the stranger’s. Hajime himself had never met them; not the stranger, not Junko. Even so, the pure, poisonous hatred coursing through his veins was anything if not genuine. The stranger saw his malice, and grinned.

“That’s what I like to see, darling,” they cooed, playfully poking his cheek as he walked past.

“Don’t,” Nagito whispered in his mind.

Hajime swallowed the unbearable heat, and took his place next to Hiro, before Junko spoke again.

“Hide your matches and your loved ones, ‘cause here comes Nagito Komaeda, Ultimate Lucky Student number two; psychopath hope-bitch, Izuru’s personal puppy dog!”

Hajime choked.

Unlike the boy before him, Nagito looked anywhere except at Junko, but fury still radiated off him in waves. He kept a tight grip on the scruff of Nami’s neck to keep her from straying too close to the enemy. Junko started to speak to Nagito, but he maintained his pace like she wasn’t there, earning an insulted scoff.

“Sorry,” Hajime muttered lamely as Nagito stood beside him, appearing just as mortified for being outed.

“Don’t speak to me,” Nagito answered coldly, loosening his grip on Nami only slightly.

There he is again.

Fourteen more students were called; varying levels of patronization, varying levels of anger and fear. Once the last had been called (Ryota Mitarai, Ultimate Animator, the only cast member exclusive to the Future Foundation spinoff), Junko turned her attention back to the crowd.

“Thank you all so much for taking time out of your terribly busy days to see us all off!” Junko gushed. The audience stared blankly back. “Make sure to tune in to the opening ceremony in Aozora-”

“H-hey! You haven’t called me yet!”

Junko stopped short and lowered her megaphone. She narrowed her eyes menacingly at the remaining person on the boat.

“I’m with them too!” Komaru called, shaky but determined.

“What is she doing?” Toko hissed.

“I don’t know!” Makoto whispered tensely.

“Hmph.” Junko regarded Komaru, scowling like the girl was a squished bug on the sole of her boots. “Groupies. Whatever.” She let out a dramatic sigh and spoke out again. “Komaru Naegi. Ultimate Nothing. The nobody-sister of a former nobody, Genocide Jack’s new scissors.”

Komaru took a step forward.

And aimed her own megaphone.

“ LINK!”

One by one, the surrounding Monokumas jerked to life, awaiting their command.

“ ATTACK!” Komaru shouted, pointing to the stranger.

The robots swarmed Junko with claws and teeth exposed. She shrieked and jerked back, but she was quickly obstructed by an assault of black, white. 

Screams, slashing.

Silence.

Komaru’s eyes widened, a ghost of a triumphant laugh on her lips, before her own voice called back.

“BREAK!”

The Monokumas fell like dominos, blooming from the unscathed stranger in the middle; the spitting image of Komaru herself, complete with her own hacking gun.

“Good try, little nobody,” the false Komaru giggled, an unnatural sound in the girl’s normally-kind voice.

“Komaru, run!” Makoto screamed at his shell-shocked sister.

But before she could move, the stranger shifted again into a man Hajime had never seen before, with tangled dark hair and a broken arm. His good hand grabbed a handful of Komaru’s collar, lifting her into the air. She kicked wildly but made no contact.

“I always knew you were no better than those stupid brats,” the man growled. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

The click of a taser ripped through the air, and Genocide Jack was tearing through the street towards them, scissors gleaming.

The stranger glanced behind them at the sound, flashing a twisted smirk as Jack neared at a deadly speed.

“Fetch,” he said simply, tossing Komaru in front of him.

The crowd broke their daze and flooded into the streets towards Komaru; a tidal wave of flailing limbs and hellish screeching.

“No!” Makoto sprinted from their line, but Komaru was invisible inside the horde.

And then Genocide Jack struck.

The years of Jack’s murder sobriety were meaningless in an instant, meaningless without hesitation. Even she couldn’t take on thousands of people, civilians or no, but her path through the crowd was carved and paved with red. Shrieks of insanity were replaced with shrieks of “survivor’s first bloodshed”. 

The stranger, Junko once again, gave two cheerful claps.

At once, the audience stopped in their tracks. There was a rebooting pause, before they returned unphased to their stations. Their absence revealed the twenty corpses of their fallen comrades, sliced beyond recognition. In the center crouched Toko, trembling and soaked in blood that wasn’t her own, next to her girlfriend’s listless body. 

Hajime rushed forward, ignoring the thin hand attempting to hold him back.

“Komaru! Komaru, wake up! ” Makoto shouted desperately, shaking the girl’s shoulder. Toko rocked back and forth, her eyes locked onto the scarlet staining her clothing.

Deep cuts and bruises littered Komaru’s skin, but the steadily-expanding puddle of blood under her head was the most frightening. Hajime slid to the ground and held an ear to her chest. The heartbeat was faint, but it was there; her breathing shallow. 

“K-K-K-?” Toko gasped, her face ghostly pale.

Hajime gently lifted the girl’s head and pressed Makoto’s offered jacket to the wound. “We need to treat for a concussion. We need-”

“We need what now?”

Junko walked casually over to the three, leaning down to peek in vague interest. 

“Wow, Toko. That’s like… a bunch of people you killed,” Junko droned. “Weren’t you, like… trying not to do that?”

Toko squeaked a strangled sob.

“Oh! Oh, that sound!” Junko gasped, before clasping Toko’s face in her clawed hands. “ That’s what I’ve been waiting for!” She turned her attention to Komaru, raising a groomed eyebrow. “I guess she’s got a use after all…”

********************

Komaru was deemed useful. And that was the only reason why the stranger let Hajime and Mikan treat her the best they could, flying thousands of feet in the air. But there was only so much they could do; the stranger cheerfully told them that they could wait a couple hours until they landed. After all, Komaru was probably already brain-damaged, even without the extensive unconsciousness.

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t really Junko. They’d accepted the role to a T.

“Good God, that took a long time. It’s almost like you’re trying to give us less time for the staff meeting,” Junko huffed, rolling her eyes.

As soon as she’d decided Komaru’s “treatment” was sufficient, she’d gathered the twenty-three “cast members”, plus one dog, to the center of the plane. It looked like the seats had been removed to create a semi-open space, though they were still forced to line up in a loose rectangular formation, shoulder-to-shoulder, standing and facing Junko like subjects to a queen.

No doubt intentional.

“What do you want from us?” Makoto immediately demanded. “Why are we here?”

Junko harrumphed. “Straight to the point, aren’t we? You’re here right now ‘cause I had to get you myself! Do you know how fuckin’ hard it was to get you guys here!? Invest in agents, already!”

“Get us here? You mean when you tried to kidnap us?” Akane asked, completely unimpressed.

“Tomato, tomahto.” Junko rolled her eyes. “I needed to get my five little Ultimate Survivors somehow.” Her scowl was turned to Nagito, just behind Hajime. “Then someone had to change the status quo. Twice. ”

When he’d sacrificed himself for Hajime. When he’d sacrificed himself for the four other hostages.

Hajime’s fist clenched. Nami whined.

Junko shrugged. “Oh well. Showbiz is about adapting to fuck-ups, isn’t it?”

“‘Show-biz’. ‘Danganronpa’. What is this?” Hajime spoke, no attempt to hide the impatience and fury in his voice.

Junko’s hand flew to her mouth in dramatic horror. “You don’t know what Dangan-?!” She let out a disappointed sigh. “Ugh… It’s so depressing when the actors aren’t even fans of their own show… makes it so much harder to get into…”

“No.”

Hajime startled at Kyoko’s blunt response, and he wasn’t the only one.

“More than half of us refused to participate in our own games, even without our memories, even without knowing our old friendships,” Kyoko said. “If you try this again, your results will be the same. You know this, don’t you?”

Realization dawned, slow and vile.

“Fuck you,” Hajime choked out.

“Eh?” Junko widened her eyes innocently. “Language, Zuzu!”

“Uhh… What are you talking about?” Hiro asked nervously.

“Another killing game,” Nagito replied flatly. Like he’d figured it out a while ago.

Chaos erupted in the cabin.

“I can’t do this again!”

“Th-this isn’t real, right!?"

“Please!”

“Ibuki says no!”

“Hey? Hello?” Junko frowned. “Hey, shut your fuckin’ mouths, you little bitches!”

Hajime hated how quickly they all complied.

“See, reboots and sequels are a funny thing,” Junko mused, examining her nails. “We all think that we want the original cast filling all the main roles. But when that happens, we realize that wow, they sure don’t have the spirit that they once had, do they? Too much time has passed, and you can just tell that they’re only there for fanservice. And everyone’s so old and decrepit… there’s just no more sex appeal, is there?”

They were all far from being old and decrepit, but Hajime smartly decided not to mention that.

“So we get a whole new cast! Mostly,” Junko bubbled in sadistic excitement. “Sure, it’ll take a bit for the audience to get attached, but they’ll stick with it, hoping for a glimpse, or even just a mention, of the characters they loved so long ago!” She smiled, gesturing to her unwilling audience. “And that’s where you come in, little chickadees.”

“You called the five remaining from the second game the ‘Ultimate Survivors’,” Byakuya mentioned, crossing his arms. “Is that where this is leading?”

Hajime felt his sleeve get grasped once again.

“I mean, that’s where it was heading, before I got all screwed with,” Junko clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Hajime’s arm was released and pushed away.

“But I’ve discovered something amazing along the way, thanks to our favorite lucky masochist!” Junko announced.

Hajime grasped Nagito’s sleeve.

Darkness clouded Junko’s gaze, her lips curling up in a terrible grin.

“There’s despair in choice .”

The stranger dreamily closed their eyes, savoring in sickness in the air, before offering an explanation.

“I recruited ten new teenagers a while ago, and once my Ultimate Survivors made things… difficult, I took in three more students instead,” Junko recounted. “Tradition says we get sixteen players. Tell me, kiddies. If we’ve got sixteen slots, and thirteen are taken by newbies, and one more is filled with yours truly, how many more are up for grabs?”

Hajime’s body went cold.

“There’s despair in choice.”

“Two more spots, for two of your own,” the stranger whispered reverently, their voice hardly audible over Hajime’s heartbeat thudding behind his ears. “Who’s it gonna be? Who’s it gonna be? ”

“You can’t,” Hina trembled. “You can’t make us choose something like that!”

“Oh, love,” Junko simpered, giving her a look of patronizing sympathy. “Is my resolve really something you want to test? I think I’ve proven myself to be very reliable.”

Nagito adjusted, gripping Hajime’s hand instead of his shirt, his grip even colder than usual.

“Two spots to fill, two people to throw into the ring. So many possibilities for delicious, juicy drama !” Junko squealed. “Our two protagonists in a showdown for justice? A paired Blackened and Whitened, ready to turn the tables? A pre-established couple for tragedy when one inevitably kicks the bucket? Two characters that we’re all dying to see get together for that unbearable sexual tension until one finally admits it right before they get offed?”

Nagito and Hajime jerked their hands apart.

“Or you could choose convenience,” Junko shrugged, marginally less interested. “Pick the two strongest, or the two most disliked, or the two most useless.” She gestured to Komaru, unconscious in Toko’s arms, and Nami.

No one spoke. No one dared to.

“The longer you put it off, the worse it’ll be. More time for you to regret, or feel guilty, or whatever other empathetic shit goes through your brainiums. Whatever,” Junko tsked, before making her final threat. “I’ll give you the rest of the day to decide. That’s all you get. Or I’ll pick for you.”

********************

Aozora City was empty. Abandoned, because every single citizen was still at the harbor, or at least slowly making their way back like a determined horde of zombies. 

Hajime wasn’t sure where the stranger had disappeared to, but before they left, they presented the grand hotel that the group would be staying in. The stranger acted like it was a treat, but when the door closed behind everyone, Hajime heard the click of the lock outside. 

Prisoners, along with their brainwashed wardens, who only allowed Mikan to find Komaru medical aid if the nurse went alone, save for being heavily flanked by five of their guards. Mikan was visibly terrified, but she agreed to go anyway.

Maybe the stranger had some ulterior motive for allowing them to treat Komaru, but for now, Hajime was relieved that, due to Mikan’s supply run, the girl was now in a somewhat stable condition. He assured Toko and Makoto that she would indeed wake up, though the timeline was unknown.

“Did anyone find anything that might be important?” Makoto asked. They’d all gathered in the hotel lobby after splitting up to search the building. For what, Hajime wasn’t sure. Even if they did find a usable exit, the stranger would surely find some horrific way to bring them all back. But it felt necessary to do at least some thing; anything to give them the illusion of control.

“The stairs are blocked off. When I tried to go to the second floor, the door to the stairwell was locked,” Imposter said.

“I heard people walking above, though,” Ryota added on shyly. “Maybe that’s where the guards are?”

“It’s very fancy and well-kept here,” Teruteru mused. “The kitchen is fully stocked as well.”

“Oh, we each have our own rooms!” Sonia piped up.

“Assigned. Each door bears a simplistic design of our likenesses,” Gundham nodded.

Hajime had noticed that. He and Mikan considered letting Komaru rest in hers, but Toko vehemently refused to let her out of her sight. Instead, the girl was carefully laid on a couch nearby.

“But there was a list of rules placed in each room. Everyone must be in a bedroom between 10 pm and 7 am. And anyone who is caught outside will be… punished,” Peko said.

The rules. The investigation. The blocked off areas. Even those damn room labels.

It was all sickeningly familiar.

It had to be on purpose. No doubt about it. But it was different this time. They didn’t have to hide from each other; no one was going to resort to killing.

No one but two of them.

“This is a waste of time,” Byakuya said, vocalizing the thoughts Hajime tried to keep down. “All we’re doing is distracting ourselves from doing what we need to.”

“What we need to?” Hina glared. “And what do you mean by that?”

“We need to pick the two people to participate in Danganronpa. Even you know that,” Byakuya replied coolly.

“That’s exactly what they want us to do!” Nekomaru boomed back. “We can’t just give in!”

“Fine then, would you rather the stranger pick for us? To have even less control than we’ve been given?” Byakuya shot back.

“Byakuya worded it like an ass, but…” Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose. “...It’s not giving up if we… prepare. We need to give ourselves a fighting chance; if the stranger picks for us, then…”

It’d be whatever choice gave them the most misery.

The group fell silent, a begrudging agreement.

“The two people’ve gotta be smarties!” Ibuki offered. “To figure out how to stop Danganhoohah from the inside!”

Hajime wondered if that was an indirect way to excuse herself from the running.

“It can’t be any of the old blackened people, either,” Mahiru said. “In case they…”

“I-I would never hurt a-anyone a-again!” Mikan squeaked, tears filling her eyes. “I-I don’t w-want to b-be a volunteer, but p-please don’t th-think-!”

“No one who gets pissed easily, then,” Hiyoko interrupted. An indirect way to excuse herself, and perhaps Mahiru, too.

“N-not Komaru,” Toko whispered. “Sh-she’s…”

“No one who can’t defend themselves,” Akane finished.

The discussion… surprisingly civil, despite the circumstances: no one outright refusing, everyone coming at it logically. Maybe they could-

“We’re going to get nowhere like this.”

Everyone spun their head towards Nagito, quietly scratching Nami behind her ears.

“All we’re doing is knocking people off the list, one by one. And once we reach the final two, we’ll find some reason to disqualify them, too,” Nagito continued matter-of-factly. “And we’ll start again, and again, until the day is up, and the stranger picks for us.”

“What are you suggesting, then?” Fuyuhiko demanded. “That we just give two people up without thinking about it?”

“Not at all,” Nagito smiled. “I’m saying that I’ll be one of the participants.”

“No,” Hajime said flatly, before the last word had fully left the other’s mouth.

“It’s simple,” Nagito spoke, as if Hajime hadn’t. “I’m one of the bargaining chips in the stranger’s possession. By offering me to the game, not only are we taking that away, but it’ll also be a way to assert what little control we have over them.”

“I said no,” Hajime growled again.

“No?” Nagito repeated, his smile turning frigid and patronizing. “Why is that?”

“You… Because…!” Hajime sputtered, willing himself to think of a better reason than the one he was screaming in his mind. “You’ve already given yourself up twice , you got something put in your brain, you’ve already done too much!”

“Is that what this is? Trying to balance out some karmic scale?” Nagito barked out a humorless laugh. “This isn’t about whatever you think I deserve , this is about alleviating your own guilt by sacrificing someone you care about in my place.”

“It’s fucked up for us to keep taking advantage of you like this!” Hajime didn’t want to have this conversation. Not ever, and especially not with twenty pairs of eyes darting between them like they were watching a volleyball match.

“‘Taking advantage’? Are you implying that I’m unable to make decisions myself?”

“That’s not-! I meant that we’re not gonna make you-!”

“You’re not making me do anything. I’m a volunteer. No else will-”

“Then I’ll- !”

“Wow, gettin’ kinda intense in here, isn’t it?”

The unfamiliar third voice stopped Hajime and Nagito cold.

“I mean, it was pretty entertaining at first, but now I’m just embarrassed for you,” it continued. Male, high-pitched… they’d heard it before. But just like the first time, whoever it belonged to was out of sight, hiding out in the hallway branching from the lobby. Hajime quietly made his way towards it.

“Who are you?” Kyoko asked. “Why are you following us?”

“Following you? I saved you back there!” The boy gasped in mock hurt. “Maybe I’m just a humongo fan just like those other guys blocking your bus!”

“But you tried to shoot them!” Makoto reminded him.

“Hey, I try to shoot a lot of-”

The voice cut off as his arm was roughly grabbed and hoisted up, dangling from Hajime’s grip and into view.

Hajime wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this; a short, impish teenage boy with stringy violet hair, wearing a mischievous grin despite hanging several feet in the air.

“Answer the question. Who are you?” Hajime demanded.

The boy pouted. “Assaulting a guest? Not cool, Hajime.”

What the fuck? “Fine. Tell me who you are, or I chuck you across the room,” Hajime threatened.

The grin widened, like Hajime’s annoyance was more amusing than intimidating.

“Kokichi Ouma. I think you’ll like what I’ve gotta say.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Danganronpa V3 casting now underway. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime looked largely unimpressed at the claim, but he dropped their visitor, Kokichi Ouma apparently, back to his feet. “Talk.”

Hajime’s patience was dangerously thin these days. Nagito tried not to think about it.

Kokichi brushed his clothes off, placing a self-important hand on his hip. “Okay, then. I’m saying I’ll take one of your spots in the game.”

What?

“You… huh?” Hajime blanked.

“What reason would you have for doing that?” Kyoko asked. “You have no allegiance to any of us.”

Kokichi examined his nails. “Not everything needs a motive, Miss Detective.” His eyes flicked back to the stunned group. “Plus, the stakes aren’t as high as you’d think.”

“What do you mean?” Byakuya asked.

“This game is gonna be another simulation. Duh,” Kokichi scoffed. “You can put in lots of fuckery if you can make the world up on the spot. The second game was sooo much more entertaining.” He gave Makoto an apologetic look. “Sorry, egg boy.”

“Don’t steal Ibuki’s nicknames!” Ibuki heckled.

“So they can bring ‘em back from the dead again?” Hiro scratched his head.

“Hm. Very impressive guess for you, Superhiro, but not quite,” Kokichi said, earning another complaint from Ibuki. “Once the game’s up and we got our two winners, everyone else gets their brains electrically sauteed. Zip. Zap. Croak.”

“Th-then how a-are the s-stakes any lower?” Toko grumbled.

“‘Cause it only happens if there’s winners,” Kokichi grinned. “But if someone stops the game before that happens…”

“Then no one dies,” Hajime finished, eyebrows raised.

“Is nobody gonna mention how this guy is totally a spy!?” Hiyoko butted in. “How do you know literally everything!?”

“Hmmm… That’s a good point. Pretty hard to prove you wrong, there, yolk,” Kokichi placed a thoughtful finger on his chin, but didn’t attempt to defend himself.

“Oh, ‘yolk’, that’s a good nickname…” Ibuki commented.

“He’s not lying. Kokichi isn’t a spy for the stranger,” Nagito said. He didn’t know how he knew, but there was something in his tone. Something in his eyes. Something that seemed familiar. “He wants to participate in Danganronpa. But we won’t allow him until he explains himself.”

 “Wow, marshmallow man. Always figured you were the brains of the bunch,” Kokichi commended.

“Then explain,” Hajime ordered.

“Okay, okay, ya caught me. I may have been a bit of a paparazzo,” he admitted, though he did so casually, completely unbothered. “I may have tailed you since you left Aozora the first time, and done a little snooping on your ‘stranger’, and watched footage from those cameras on your island, and snuck into this here hotel with methods I shan’t discuss.”

“But why ?” Makoto pressed, still utterly confused. 

At this, there was a barely noticeable change in Kokichi’s expression. Nagito couldn’t place it, and it was gone in a second. But it was there.

“You heard what the stranger said about Haji, Fuyu, Kaz, Sonia, and Akane. You were supposed to fill in five slots as the Ultimate Survivors, but you got away,” Kokichi reminded them. “Your spots were taken by people on the waiting list instead. And I’ve got a… special interest in one of those guys.”

“Oh!” Sonia gasped. “Oh no, I have not even considered… I am so s-”

“Shut it, princess,” Kokichi interrupted amicably. “What’s done is done.”

“So you’re participating to save your friend from what they were forced into doing,” Peko murmured.

“Forced? No,” Kokichi said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice, before resuming his jovial tone. “Not everyone’s recovered from the Tragedy, you know. Including the stranger, including all the players, including the guy I was close with before all the shit went down. He hates my guts. So he got away from me, and immediately signed up for this.”

“He hates you, but you want to do this anyway?” Hina asked quietly.

“Oh, my dear Hina, is that not what love is?” Kokichi asked, an overly-dramatic hand placed over his heart. “To care for and protect, even if it’s unappreciated? Even if you get nothing but pain in return, even if it goes unrequited, because every blow dealt to them is returned sevenfold to you? Is it not?”

A solemn silence filled the room. Mahiru had taken Hiyoko’s hand under the table. Mikan sniffled. Nagito felt the phantom warmth of Hajime’s arms from when he’d attempted to carry Nagito back to the boat, to prevent him from sacrificing himself yet again to the burning wreckage that Jabberwock soon became.

He banished the thought like the plague.

Then Kokichi burst into laughter.

“Holy crap , I was kidding!” He exclaimed between snickers. “How’d you survive this long, you’re all so sentimental! ” He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “I’m just fucking bored, that’s all.”

“You’re… You’re such a huge jerk!” Hina accused.

“I am, aren’t I?” He snorted. “In any case, I can’t do everything around here. You still got one more spot to fill.”

Kokichi’s eyes scanned his audience, before resting his eyes on Nagito and cocking an eyebrow.

That’s right.

But as soon as Nagito opened his mouth to confirm his place, Kokichi twitched his attention away and spoke again.

“It really doesn’t matter who you choose. After all, I fully intend to stop Danganronpa. Or win, at the very least. And I don’t need help from one of the brainies.” Kokichi shrugged. “You could pick some random guy off the street, or the dog, or a super-advanced roomba…” He smirked at Kazuichi, who startled at the attention. “...Or a drone.”

“Wha…” Kazuichi blinked. “Why are you lookin’ at me like some sorta creep?”

Kokichi flashed him a look of unsurprised disappointment, before yanking a duffel bag away from the other. He rustled through it. 

“Hey! Stop going through my stuff, you gremlin!” Kazuichi squawked. 

“When did you even grab that?” Fuyuhiko asked the distressed Kazuichi. 

“I saved it when the island was exploding- hey!” Kazuichi lunged towards Kokichi, but he darted away, a strange, metal box in his hands. 

“Pretty weird-looking, huh?” Kokichi examined, poking at one of the metal parts protruding from the cube. “Catch!”

Kokichi lobbed it back to Kazuichi, who caught it in a panic. In the process, his thumb landed on a small, flat square, which flashed blue and beeped at the contact. 

The cube started unfolding, bit by bit, until it was standing, human-sized on the ground. 

No, not just human- sized, human -like. 

Besides the bulky armor and the blacked-out eyes, it could have passed for a high-school boy with spiky, white hair and a strange fashion sense. 

“Kazuichi, you built a ro-” Teruteru started to gasp, before it started tipping over. 

Kazuichi quickly grabbed it and tilted it back. “Yeah, I was . He was supposed to be a secret!”

Kokichi poked the robot’s shoulder. “Looks pretty advanced, kazoo. One might even call it…” He grinned slyly. “...The Ultimate Robot.”

Kazuichi scratched his head. “I mean, thanks? But what…” His eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”

“He is our second participant!” Sonia clapped her hands, eyes sparkling. “None of us will have to go!”

“Now wait just a minute!” Kazuichi protested. “He’s not finished, that’s why he was a surprise! J1-A0 was his prototype. He doesn’t even have an AI yet, or a jet pack, or weapons! He’s supposed to be a lookout drone.” He lowered to an embarrassed mumble. “And, you know, like a new little buddy on the island.”

“And the problem is?” Kokichi raised his eyebrow. “Slap an AI into him now. You’ve got Haji and Alter Ego and a week between now and the game. Who cares about all that other stuff?”

Kazuichi eyed his robot protectively, reluctant to give him up. 

“Kaz, look,” Hajime said. “I get that you don’t wanna send him in without protection and stuff, but if we have to choose between a robot and our friends, it’s gonna be our friends every time.”

“Plus he’ll be perfectly fine once the game is stopped!” Makoto insisted. “And I’m sure Kokichi will look after him, too.”

“Huh? No,” Kokichi deadpanned. “I’m gonna bully the shit outta him. His dad called me a gremlin.”

“Excuse-!”

“We will be very grateful and kind to him when he returns to us,” Sonia interjected before Kazuichi could make the robot’s life even worse. “Does he have a name?”

Kazuichi brightened at Sonia’s question. “K1-B0! I call him Kiibo.”

Nagito smiled to himself. 

Kibou. 

“Hope”. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to their word, the stranger returned to the hotel at 8 pm, still donning the face of Junko, to hear the group’s two choices for the third Danganronpa. But now there were two more contenders: the mysterious Kokichi, and the lifeless Kiibo. 

Junko was not happy. 

“I literally told you,” Junko seethed, “That the point of getting you to join in was to pump the audience up about seeing some of the old cast. But this is what you give me?! A hunk of junk and some kid?!”

“Don’t call him junk!” Kazuichi defended, holding into Kiibo to keep him from falling over. “He still needs an AI!”

“And I was a strategic choice,” Kokichi said, disinterested. 

“And I don’t give a shit!” Junko screeched. 

“You didn’t say “two of us ”, you said “two of ours ”.  They’re ours, now,” Hajime chided cockily. His spirits had been very much lifted since the afternoon. The game could be stopped. No one had to die. None of his friends had to get hurt.

“Rules are rules. And if you’re copying Junko, you gotta stick by ‘em.” Kokichi smirked. 

“Isn’t that right, Tsumugi?”

The stranger stopped cold. 

Tsumugi?

“How… do you know that?” She hissed. Maybe the stranger, Tsumugi, was an impeccable impersonator, but the fury and fear in her voice was a tone that Junko would never have. 

“Told ya. I’m a strategic choice,” Kokichi answered. 

Tsumugi had the look of a cornered animal. 

Hajime felt vengeful joy at the sight. Each plan of hers had failed, loopholes had been exploited. They had an ally who had information on her that she’d tried to hide. She’d lost. 

But as a murky, evil shadow crossed her face, Hajime remembered that cornered animals were always the most dangerous. 

“You know, it’s fine if none of you want to participate,” she mused. “Maybe we won’t put you on the big screen.” She bared her teeth in a predatory grin. “Doesn’t mean you can’t get involved. Doesn’t mean you can’t have stakes.”

Tsumugi’s hand reached into her shirt, pulling out Nagito’s remote. 

Hajime’s heart stopped. 

“You know, this thing’s got thirteen settings, each more intense than the last. Thirteen!” A sharp nail scrolled the dial absentmindedly. “It’s kinda funny. That’s how many people have to die before we get our two winners. I wonder…”

Before Hajime could stop her, Tsumugi’s finger jammed on the button. 

Nagito choked, curling in on himself and grasping at his head. 

“That’s setting “one”, for reference,” Tsumugi offered. 

No.

“So I’m thinking… what if for every death, murder, execution, suicide, whatever… we give him a dose? Upping the ante each time, of course,” Tsumugi suggested cheerfully, scrolling down one more and pressing. She held up two fingers as Nagito fell to his knees. 

“Stop! Fucking stop it!” Hajime screamed. Akane grabbed him before he could charge at her. 

“You’ll just make her mad!” She insisted as he struggled. 

“You know that big one that knocked you out for a couple of days? That was just a ten!” Tsumugi scrolled much further, but didn’t activate it. “I dunno about you, cutie, but I’m not sure you could survive much more than that, huh?”

She moved to the highest setting, hovering over the button. Teasing. But she caught Hajime’s terror, winked, and dialed back down before hitting the button at a three. 

Nagito bundled on the ground, groaning. Sonia and Toko dropped next to him, rubbing his back and whispering encouragement and comfort. 

Hajime’s throat hurt. He’d been yelling. He wasn’t the only one. 

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t going to change anything. 

“It’s a shame. If you gave us enough time, we probably could have done something more poetic. Give you your dementia back or something,” Tsumugi frowned, then shrugged. “This works too, though. I mean, doesn’t it feel like your brain’s getting ripped back apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but a pathetic, sniffling, hopeless-”

“ You psychotic bitch! ”

Hajime launched Akane back into the crowd with a harsh kick and shot towards Tsumugi, fingers curled, ready to rip her head from her shoulders. 

Blue eyes met his. He blinked. And then they were red. 

A blur of motion, his head hitting the floor.

The heel of a dress shoe digging into his chest.

He looked up. Hajime already knew who he would see.

“Pathetic,” Izuru said.

Hajime knew that he’d spent the last few months on the run, trying desperately to escape the thought of Izuru Kamukura and what he’d done. What he’d lost. It was a chase that he would never win; he feared that one day, the reality would strike and he’d be swallowed whole.

But he didn’t think it’d be like this.

He didn’t think he’d ever have to look at that face, identical to his own, shrouded in blackness, as if he seeped despair like toxic ink.

Hajime wanted to scream. Cry. Vomit. But all he could do was struggle for air as his chest was caved further and further in.

“Your people look to you like a god, expecting you to solve every single conflict that comes their way,” Izuru said, watching the boy wriggle against his sole. “Do you think they know how watered down you’ve become? How diluted your talents are, inside that worthless body of yours?”

Hajime’s vision started to shrink to a pinpoint.

“Any use you have, you owe to me.”

Izuru’s voice, Hajime’s voice, became more distant as he faded faster.

“Perhaps they wish that, instead, I had-”

The pressure on Hajime’s torso was abruptly removed, and his vision and lungs expanded once again.

Nagito was standing above him, fists clenched, face trained forward.

Nagito had shoved Izuru off of Hajime.

Izuru Tsumugi gazed at the front of his her suit where it had been rumpled from the blow. He She smoothed it out before regarding her attacker.

“Look at Servant, all grown up,” she drawled, tapping a finger on Nagito’s cheek.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t waver.

“You got what you came for,” Nagito said coolly to Izuru Tsumugi. “Now leave.”

Tsumugi gave one last look at the group before her. Twenty students in shock. One student vaguely impressed. One student still on the ground, gazing in wonder at the one student staring her down.

“Yes. I did,” she replied as she backed away, the twisted grin on her face shattering the illusion of the man Hajime no longer was.

********************

It was 9 pm.

Tsumugi had left maybe thirty minutes ago, leaving the group in disarray. They should have been planning what to do next. According to Kokichi, Danganronpa started in a week, but anything could happen between now and then. Instead, most retired to their rooms in a stunned stupor; Kokichi claiming the one Sonia had left empty when she moved to Gundham’s.

Hajime knew he was cutting it close, being out in the open so close to their enforced bedtime. After all, apparently they’d be “punished” if they were caught out past 10 pm.

He didn’t have a death wish, but he did want to find some way to rebel.

What a sorry attempt.

As Hajime neared the end of the hallway on his aimless quest, he saw a red glow creeping out from one of the few open windows. There was no night sky. There was just that horrible, horrible red.

But as he neared, he realized he wasn’t alone.

Hajime’s heart gave a painful thud at the boy sitting on the windowsill, gazing out at the desolate city.

He wondered if he’d been noticed.

“Tsumugi was wrong, you know.”

He had.

“What do you mean?” Hajime asked, scared that any wrong move would make the other hostile once again.

“When she said you were watered down,” Nagito explained, still looking away.

Hajime waited for him to clarify. He didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said back in the boat. As strange as it sounds, I think there was some truth to it, when you thought I sensed Izuru in you,” Nagito murmured. “I was attracted to Hajime. I cared for Hajime. But it was the hope inside you that I fell in love with.”

Hajime’s throat burned. Why was he surprised? He should have seen this coming, that Nagito would come to his senses. 

“But when I was with Izuru… it was his talent that drew me worship. There was something in him, too, though. Something he kept so hidden, that I’m shocked I was able to see it.” At this, Nagito finally turned to look at Hajime, an achingly beautiful smile on his face. “It was Hajime Hinata’s heart. Your heart, that I fell in love with.”

Hajime’s breath caught.

“You’re not Izuru. But you’re not the Hajime you used to be, either. I think… you were always meant to be like this. Hope and heart.” Nagito laughed lightly. “I guess I loved you even before you fully came together, huh?”

Hajime hadn’t realized that he’d been approaching Nagito, until they were about three feet apart. His stomach fluttered. “Does that mean you…?” Hajime ventured.

Nagito looked away quickly. “Nothing’s changed.” He slid off the windowsill and started to leave, before Hajime spoke.

“Then stop.”

Nagito blinked at the unexpected reaction. “Stop…?”

Hajime squeezed his eyes closed. Why did this have to be so hard? “If we can’t… be together, then stop telling me you love me. Stop holding my hand. Just… stop.”

Nagito crossed his arms, an oddly self-conscious gesture. “I’m sorry for forcing my-”

“I’m not going to stop trying to protect you. Not now. Not in this goddamn nightmare. But once we’re safe… Just tell me the truth. Just tell me that you want me to fuck off, okay? And I will. I won’t bug you anymore, I promise.” Hajime wished he didn’t feel his eyelashes dampen. He wished that the other didn’t see it. “Just... stop giving me false hope.”

“Tell you the truth? I’m not lying, Hajime,” Nagito said. Hajime wished his voice wasn’t so gentle.

“Then what’s the reason, huh? What’s the reason for jerking me around?” Hajime opened his eyes, the other dumbfounded in front of him. He didn’t have it in him to feel angry. He just felt… tired.

“I’m doing this for you , I can’t let you fool yourself into...” Nagito shook his head, a desperate sadness filling his expression. “You’re so good , Hajime. You’re so good that it hurts. It’s untouchable. And I’m… I’m nothing.”

“Nothing? Nagito, you… You’re everything .” He just wished he’d understand.

“Why would you ever think that?” Nagito whispered brokenly.

“Because we’re the same, remember? Isn’t that what you told me when we met?” Nagito’s eyes widened. Hajime wondered if he’d assumed he’d forgotten. “I don’t know why, but somehow you knew me back then. Right away. You knew what I would think, you knew what I would do, you knew how I would feel, and I didn’t let myself believe it, but somehow I knew you, too. It’s weird, but it’s like… we match. And when you left, I felt so empty. You wanna know why I tried so hard to wake you up from the simulation? It’s because I felt... incomplete. ”

Hajime wished he’d realized it sooner.

“And now that you’re here, and after I’ve spent so much time with you, I do know why. You’re weird, yeah, but you’re sweet, and kind, and a goddamn genius, and you keep me grounded when it feels like I’m floating away from everything and everyone. You balance me out.”

Nagito’s hands were shaking, his eyes trained on the floor. But he didn’t interrupt.

“And I wish we met before that goddamn simulation made us enemies, and even before Hope’s Peak made us hate ourselves more than we already did, so I wouldn’t be so damn terrified of feeling like this.” Hajime couldn’t stop talking. Not now. And maybe he’d regret it in the morning, but… “But I care about you. So much. And I’m sorry that it’s scary for you, too, and that the world has put you down so much that it’s hard for you to believe me.”

Hajime took Nagito’s trembling hand and placed it on his cheek. Nagito’s eyes finally met his; conflicted and scared and hopeful. “I’m not untouchable, Nagito. I’m right here.”

Hajime lowered his arm back to his side, but Nagito’s palm stayed, his thumb hesitantly running over his cheekbone. His fingers were cool, but they left fire where they touched.

“Don’t worry about what’s best for me. Because I know what’s best for me,” Hajime urged gently. You’re what’s best for me. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I…” Nagito swallowed. “...you. I love you. You already know that, but-”

“I love you, too,” Hajime interrupted, stopping the doubt before it could vocalize itself. Nagito cut off, eyes somehow wider than they’d already been. “So what… do you want to do with that?”

Emotions swirled on Nagito’s face. Disbelief. Fear. Longing. Love.

Nagito took one step closer, and another. He leaned forward, tilted his head, slowly, slowly.

Hajime didn’t move. Not now. He’d made his decision clear, and it was Nagito’s, now.

And Nagito stopped, lips a hair-width away, close enough to feel shaky exhales ghosting his face. Nagito was waiting for Hajime to pull away, to laugh, to be disgusted. A test. It was the final barrier of self-doubt his mind was putting up between them.

So Hajime placed his hands on the other’s shoulders. Not to hold him there, God no, not if he didn’t want to. It was to say that Hajime was here . That…

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Hajime thought he’d be more nervous than this. He was terrified when they’d nearly kissed back on the boat. But as he saw a small, hopeful smile grace the other’s face, his heart beat in a lovely hum, safety and belonging and love warming his chest.

And finally, finally, finally, they connected.

A press of soft lips against his. Brief and tentative and weird and wonderful.

Nagito pulled away, all too soon.

“Are you okay?” Nagito worried, searching for any sign that he’d be kicked to the curb.

“I… uh… huh?” Hajime said eloquently, his head feeling like it was filled with cotton. “Yeah. Yes! Are… Are you okay?”

Nagito nodded rapidly, his curls bouncing violently.

Hajime felt himself burst into a big, doofy grin.

“What?” Hurt flashed across Nagito’s expression. “Are you laughing at me?”

Whoops.

Hajime ruffled Nagito’s hair, earning a small noise of surprise.

Cute.

“No dummy, I’m happy, ” Hajime laughed, taking the other’s wrist to pull him back towards him.

“Happy,” Nagito marveled, before beaming back just as idiotically.

There was no hesitation this time, when Nagito cupped Hajime’s face to kiss him again.

No hesitation as they held each other close, smiling against each other, trying desperately to make up for all of the time they’d lost to fear and separation. To replace the pain with love, love, love.

They’d been thrown into a nightmare; with death and despair and red, red sky.

But that was something to worry about tomorrow. 

Far away from their little bubble of heaven in the depths of hell.

Chapter Illustration: https://katavicbun.tumblr.com/private/644615047111442432/tumblr_RuTbJWKa8i5CLUruB

Chapter Text

Around them, the world was crumbling.

Their prison was a city, abandoned by everything and everyone but despair; their cell a locked hotel that forced them to do nothing but dread what was to come. To dread the killing game in one week’s time that could very well be the end of thirteen innocent kids. To dread whatever may happen between now and… who knew.

And that was why Hajime felt so selfish for feeling so happy.

As soon as he shut himself in his room (or, the room that was assigned to him, which was scary and bad and something that he really should be worrying more about right now) , Hajime couldn’t stop replaying the past thirty-something minutes in his mind, trying to imprint the feeling of Nagito’s lips on his.

They’d kissed.

Granted, it was only twice, but it was enough to turn Hajime’s world on its head in the most wonderful way. Unsurprisingly, the majority of their time was spent by Hajime assuring Nagito that yes, he really did love him, and it wasn’t just guilt, and no, this was not some weird, roundabout form of divine punishment. But Hajime found that he didn’t mind repeating himself when they were sitting together on that windowsill, the other nestled against his side, arms wrapped around his waist. As Hajime felt Nagito’s scrunched, worried expression loosen to a contented smile against his shoulder, his words seemed to shift from reassurance to self-indulgence; he was finally able to vocalize those bundled up thoughts and emotions that had knotted themselves around his heart.

It was perfect.

Though, Hajime was a bit nervous at the prospect of seeing Nagito again. Spilling his guts felt right in the moment, but come morning, the memory would surely fluster him beyond belief. But he knew that any hint of avoidance would be completely misinterpreted as regret by Nagito. For his sake, Hajime needed to treat Nagito normally, no matter how embarrassed and exposed he felt. At least he had the night to steel himself-

Knock knock

Hajime flinched.

It wasn’t just the two Hope’s Peak classes that were in the hotel; Ryota had said that there were footsteps upstairs, right? Logic said that whoever was up there, locked in with them, wasn’t good. 

Hajime grabbed a lamp off the nightstand and crept closer, wishing that there was a peephole he could check first, before he cracked the door open to peer out at...

“Um…  hi,” Nagito said, nervously shifting from foot to foot. 

Hajime quickly raked a self-conscious hand through his hair (even though they’d just seen each other) before opening the door wider. 

“What’s up?” He greeted back, confused. Nagito was staring at the ground, picking at his nails, something clearly on his mind. 

A terrible thought occurred. 

 What if he was there to tell Hajime that what had happened was a mistake? That being with him was too risky, or too painful, or too… whatever? That Hajime was just an atrocious kisser?

But the thought stopped when Nami nosed her way through the doorway to say hello. 

“Uh… everything okay?” Hajime asked as the dog nudged past to investigate. 

“Yes!” Nagito answered immediately, before crossing his arms indecisively. “...no? Hm.”

“Elaborate?” Hajime shuffled to the side as an invitation, but Nagito kept himself planted in the hall.

Nagito looked away again, still fidgeting. “Being in Aozora again is… horrifying, and my theories on why we’re being forced to stay in our rooms are concerning, and the last time I went to sleep in an actual bedroom didn’t end well, and…” he trailed off. 

Hajime blinked. “You’re scared?” Realization struck and his face heated up. “Do you… want to stay here?”

Nagito’s blush matched his own. “I feel terrible about asking, but you said that I’m allowed to want to be near you, and-” He somehow went redder. “-oh, but I’m not lying about being nervous about being alone, I just thought that after our, um, talk, you’d mind the least out of everyone, but-” Redder. “-but that’s extremely presumptuous of me to think it’d be okay to invade your space like this-”

“Wait wait wait, it’s okay, alright?” Hajime stopped him before Nagito could talk himself out of it and then some. They almost made progress. He frowned. “Aren’t you cutting it kinda close, though? It’s almost-”

He looked at the clock. 

9:59 pm. 

“Holy shit, Nagito!” Hajime squawked, abandoning all pretenses of politeness as he yanked the other inside by the collar. With his other hand, he slammed and locked the door behind him. “We have to be in a bedroom before 10 pm, remember? Or we get punished?” Whatever that meant. 

“I had to work up my nerve. Sorry,” Nagito mumbled. Hajime turned around and realized he still had a grip on the front of Nagito’s shirt, making him look more like a kicked puppy than usual. 

Hajime immediately released him and took a hasty step away. “Don’t apologize , I’m not mad, I’m just…”

His mind immediately started filling in the blank with excuses: on edge, nervous, grumpy. 

Then he remembered he didn’t have to lie anymore. 

“I’m just… you know, I don’t want you to get hurt. And I’m glad you’re here. And… yeah,” Hajime finished lamely. Smooth. 

But Nagito beamed like Hajime had said something profound. At least his expectations were low. 

When Hajime had gotten back to his room, he’d decided to change into the pajamas already hanging in the closet. He’d considered ignoring them and staying in his own clothes as a weird, petty way to rebel against Tsumugi. But then he remembered that he’d been wearing the same thing for days, and he didn’t especially want to sleep in jeans, so he decided to count his losses. With Nagito right there, though, Hajime almost wished he’d gone with his first instinct. 

Considering what had just happened, Hajime would have assumed that anyone showing up at his door late at night would have some less-than-pure ulterior motive. Had this been anyone but Nagito. 

But this was Nagito, and after getting bewildered permission from Hajime, he gave one last sweet smile before curling up in the small armchair in the corner of the room. His eyes had closed as soon as he’d taken off his prosthetic and settled down, but Hajime had a feeling he was only feigning sleep. There was absolutely no way he’d be comfortable being cramped up like that, but he probably wanted to be as little of a disturbance as possible, maybe to make Hajime forget he was there at all.

Fat chance.

Even so, Hajime didn’t want to make things awkward by calling his bluff, so he simply turned off the lights and laid in bed himself. “Exhausted” was an understatement for how Hajime was feeling, but he knew that he was far too tense about literally everything to do anything about it. He scrunched his eyelids shut, holding them still for as long as he could, but when he tried to relax, they simply popped right back open. So much for that.

He took a curious peek at the boy in the armchair, to find that his eyes were open as well. And staring right at him.

Hajime let out a very unmanly squeak of surprise.

Nagito immediately threw his hand over his own eyes with an audible slap. “I’m so sorry! It’s just that I can’t exactly roll over, and the chair happened to be turned toward the bed, and I understand if you’ve changed your mind about letting me stay for the night, and it’s possible that if I run fast enough, I might be able to make it back to my room before anything happens to me!” He rambled frantically.

It didn’t explain why his eyes were open, but Hajime wasn’t going to mention it.

Instead, he wordlessly held up the end of the blanket before Nagito could scurry off and get himself killed. Hajime figured that the implication was obvious, but he was completely unsurprised when the other didn’t get it and simply raised his eyebrows.

“That chair can’t be comfortable,” Hajime prompted.

“It’s… fine,” Nagito lied.

“You can’t even turn over.”

“I don’t move a lot in my sleep.”

“How can you even sleep sitting up?”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“You’re just playing dumb at this point.”

“...Am not.”

Good God.

Hajime held the sheet higher, one step from just giving up. “Just get over here, man.”

He almost followed up with a promise that he wasn’t going to make it weird, but that definitely would have been counterproductive. It didn’t seem to matter either way, though, since that seemed to be the push Nagito needed to finally relent and settle down next to him. Nami seemed grateful, hopping up where Nagito had previously been.

Nagito had placed himself at the very edge of the mattress, looking maybe even less comfortable than he had been before. The bed wasn’t big; definitely not meant for two people. Even though they weren’t touching, Hajime could feel Nagito’s body heat radiating next to him, and he realized that he probably made falling asleep a lot more difficult for himself. Hajime briefly worried that he had misread things; maybe Nagito would be happier sleeping in that armchair, and he’d forced him to do something he wasn’t ready for? But then he felt a pinky curl around his, too hesitant and shaky to be unintentional. Hajime spared an inconspicuous glance at Nagito, who was staring deliberately at the ceiling and harshly biting his lip. Experimentally, Hajime flipped his hand over to lace their fingers together. Nagito put on an oddly forced pout, like he was very deliberately trying not to grin. 

It felt like they were two high school kids on a first date, subtly trying to hold hands in the movie theater. For whatever reason, it struck Hajime as funny, and he couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh. “We’re bad at this, aren’t we?” He mused. 

Nagito immediately shot to a sitting position, his hand ripped away. “I’m sorry, that was-”

But Hajime had realized his own mistake as soon as he had made it, grabbing Nagito around the waist and yanking them both back down.

“Hold it. I said ‘we’, not ‘you’, yeah?” Hajime clarified. They’d ended up with Nagito’s cheek on Hajime’s chest and his torso half on top of him, Hajime’s arms still wrapped around the other. “I mean… I’ve never done anything close to this, and you…” Hajime fidgeted, before Nagito laid a comforting arm across his stomach. Warmth bloomed where it touched. 

“I’ve never… literally slept with someone,” Nagito mumbled, shifting to subtly hide his face against Hajime’s shirt. 

“Then we’ll be bad at this… couple stuff together,” Hajime said, adjusting his grip to run his fingers through the other’s hair. “No judgement.”

As his hold loosened, Nagito’s tightened, a Cheshire-catlike grin forming on his face.

Nagito would also be a strange guy, but Hajime had learned that it was a quality he’d very much started to like.

“I’ll stick around for as long as you’ll have me, but I think… things’ll be easier if we’re honest about what we want, right?” Hajime murmured. The weight of someone holding him close was gently lulling him into the slumber he’d thought was impossible.

“I want you to stick around for forever,” Nagito answered back, sleepiness dissolving his filter. His ankles loosely hooked around Hajime’s lower calf, an unconscious gesture.

The casual intensity of the statement suddenly made Hajime feel very awake.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” Nagito commented.

“Um. Yeah. It, uh. It does that,” Hajime stuttered out.

“...I love you, Hajime,” Nagito spoke again, mischief tinting his voice.

His heart beat even faster.

Nagito snickered. “I think things will be easier if we’re more comfortable talking about our feelings, right?” He mimicked.

Hajime tugged on a lock of hair. “I take it back. Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Nagito laughed a lighthearted protest, tilting his head away, but Hajime pulled him back and planted an impulsive kiss on his temple. This time, it was Nagito’s heartbeat that quickened, matching the pace of the other’s. Hajime smiled, still in slight disbelief and overwhelming joy at how the day had ended up, his lips brushing against silky curls. 

“Love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Had it not been for the death machine lodged in his brain, Nagito would have thought that his luck cycle would set the hotel ablaze, or cause some other similarly catastrophic event. Even then, he still wasn’t entirely sure the scale was balanced.

The night was sweet.

Perhaps the sweetest of his life.

No, definitely the sweetest of his life; completely innocent, but somehow more intimate than anything that he had done with Izuru. 

It didn’t take long for Hajime to drift off, the gentle rise and fall of his chest evening out underneath his cheek. But Nagito forced himself to stay awake for as long as he could, memorizing the feel of Hajime’s arms and the faint, woodsy scent of the crook of his neck, in case it was all some long, detailed dream to be forgotten in the cruel morning.

But Nagito had woken up in the same room, in the embrace of the same boy.

He didn’t move a muscle, afraid to wake Hajime up and drastically increase his chances of being thrown out the door. Or maybe the window.

And a while later, Hajime did wake up. He lifted his arms up to stretch, freezing when he remembered the weight on top of him. Nagito waited to be shoved off. Instead, Hajime’s stomach puffed up with a small laugh of wonder, and he was hugged closer ; a hand absentmindedly running up and down his back and combing through his bedhead. Hajime thought Nagito was still asleep; he was holding him because he wanted to. 

Hajime realized Nagito was awake when tears started to dampen the front of his shirt.

The night was sweet, but they could only put off the reality of things for so long.

“Kokichi said that Danganronpa starts in a week. We need to come up with a list of things we need to do before then to prepare,” Makoto said when they’d all gathered in the dining area for breakfast. Nagito wasn’t sure where it had come from; it seemed like cooking had been the last thing from Teruteru’s mind. The thought was kind of disturbing, and he considered skipping the meal altogether, but Hajime had sternly shoved an overflowing plate at him. 

“Yeah, I need to literally make one of the players!” Kazuichi interjected. “How the heck am I supposed to do that in a week!?”

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that earlier,” Kokichi chided, his feet propped on the table.

Kazuichi seethed. “You little-!”

“But it’s no problem, right? You’ve got Hajime and Alter Ego! Plus, Kiibo’s body is already built, too,” Hina chirped.

Kazuichi grumbled to himself, entirely unconvinced.

“Oh! We need to stop the game, too! Put that on the list!” Ibuki piped up.

“Y-yes, but… h-how are w-we supposed to d-do that?” Mikan worried.

“Dude, if we just stop the game before it happens, then Kaz won’t even have to finish the robot!” Hiro held a determined fist up. Kazuichi nodded enthusiastically.

“No. Even if we stop her now, she’ll still continue on with the game,” Byakuya said. “If Tsumugi is truly trying to follow in Junko’s footsteps, she’ll most likely only relent if the game is destroyed while in progress.”

“How are we even supposed to do that, though?” Akane asked through a mouthful of bacon.

“The Hope’s Peak game stopped when we caught Junko betraying the rules, and the Jabberwock game stopped when we forced a shut down,” Kyoko said. “Both were highly situational. Maybe we can use that knowledge to come up with a plan, but we won’t be able to count on repeating history.”

Heads swiveled in Kokichi’s direction. He raised an unconcerned eyebrow at the attention. “What? Am I supposed to think of everything?”

“You volunteered! Do you seriously not have a plan?” Mahiru demanded.

“Calm down, red. I’ll figure it out. We’ve got time,” Kokichi dismissed, leaning back further in his chair. “It just has to happen before we’ve crowned our winners.”

Hajime looked like he wanted to tip him all the way over. “No, we absolutely do not have time. Nagito’s got that pain-device in his head, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. But Tsumugi said that he’ll only kick the bucket after the eleven-ish shock. So we’ve got until there are five people, and her, left. Still a lotta wiggle room, Hajiman,” Kokichi corrected, his level of nonchalance completely unwavering. Nagito was in quiet agreement, but Hajime looked close to combusting. 

“We’re not gonna cut it that close! Plus, you saw how much that damn thing hurts him! And what if it fucks his brain up?” Hajime shot back, practically steaming.

A couple of confused looks glanced in their direction, probably thinking something along the lines of “I guess they’re fine, now.”

Right before the two had left Hajime’s room, Hajime insisted they keep… whatever was going on between them quiet. He’d said that it was because everyone had enough on their plate right now, and he didn’t want to add another variable to distract them. Though, Nagito knew it was more about avoiding the inevitable embarrassment of being mercilessly teased. Or judged for his choice. But before Nagito could take and run with the latter, Hajime rapidly insisted that it had nothing to do with shame, and that he’d be more than happy to announce it later, and that he by no means regretted his decision. And then made Nagito repeat what he’d said back to him. And then pulled him into a brief, rough hug.

Of course, Hajime made them look suspicious himself when he sat right next to Nagito at breakfast, despite the shouting match the two had the day before. Nagito thought about mentioning it.

He didn’t.

“Yes, I agree with Hajime! We must think of a plan as soon as we can!” Sonia announced. “Kokichi, now is not the time for secrecy. Please, tell us all you know!”
Kokichi huffed dramatically. “I have . And now I can’t find out any more because you guys forced me to be stuck in here with you.”

“It’s possible that we’ll be told more as the game gets closer,” Nagito pondered. “Junko gave out advantages and information to keep hope from being extinguished on its own, so she herself could snuff it out herself. Tsumugi will be betting on us to come up with a plan. She’ll probably encourage it.”

“So we’re doing what she wants us to?” Teruteru asked.

No one answered.

********************

And so, the week would become an anxious lame-duck period.

Soon after breakfast, Hajime and Kazuichi had disappeared somewhere to start developing an AI for Kiibo. Nagito and the rest of the group stayed where they were, trying to brainstorm any semblance of a plan that they could. All they had really done was come up with a list of any possibly-relevant consistencies, aside from the obvious trial and execution rules. If it still stood, the “two kills per blackened” regulation provided at least some relief; the longer they could delay the numbers from dwindling, the better. If the game could be halted before only two people remained, none of the deaths would be permanent.

Except Nagito’s.

And there was also the issue of memory loss. Both the 77th and the 78th class had their high school years stolen from them, and were returned only once they had left their respective games. If the new game was going to keep up the pattern, any leg up that Kokichi had by knowing Tsumugi’s secrets was useless.

But he didn’t seem concerned.

“Aw, you think I’d forget you that fast? Friendship means nothing to you, huh?” Kokichi sighed. “I don’t need memories, anyway. If I want out, I’ll get out.”

It was hardly reassurance.

The group had dissipated after a disappointingly short amount of time. Nagito hoped he was right about Tsumugi providing them with more information; otherwise, all they could do was come up with solutions to possible scenarios based on very little.

Nagito and Nami were mindlessly strolling through the hallways. Their official mission was to map out possible escape routes from the locked hotel. It was simply a method of feeling like they had purpose; even if they did find a way out, they’d simply be caught again.

All the room doors were closed, save for one: Kazuichi’s, where he and Hajime were working on making Kiibo more than just an advanced doll.

Nagito took a secretive look inside.

At the moment, it was just Hajime there, typing rhythmically on the laptop plugged into the robot’s chest. The jumbled strings of numbers and code on the screen meant absolutely nothing to Nagito, but it didn’t really matter, considering he was much more interested in the person in front of it.

Nagito knew that it was far from socially acceptable to watch someone without their knowledge, but he had no idea what rules applied in this kind of situation. Was it still creepy to stare at someone who (at least claimed to) love you back? It would probably be safest to step away and resume his pointless patrol, but at the same time…

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

Oops.

But when he turned around, Hajime didn’t look disgusted or angry; instead, his mouth was quirked up in a joking smirk, his cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment.

Nagito wondered what he would ever need to be self-conscious about.

He returned the smile and walked inside, taking the outstretched hand and kneeling beside him on the floor.

“Look at this,” Hajime grinned, quickly tapping on the keyboard with one hand, still holding Nagito’s in the other. 

Mechanical whines sounded next to them once Hajime’s thumb hit the enter button, and Kiibo whirred to life. Black eyes flickered on to reveal blue, and one foot choppily moved backward to tilt itself (himself?) into a standing position.

“Hello, Nagito Komaeda,” Kiibo spoke. His inflection was odd, but it could almost pass for human. An arm was lifted towards Nagito, palm turned to the side in an obvious gesture.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Nagito breathed. He complied, gently shaking Kiibo’s hand. The robot held on for a bit too long, and the fingers curled away awkwardly, but it was impressive nonetheless.

“Ask him something,” Hajime prompted, standing up to join them.

Nagito frowned. “Hmm… is it morally passable to send a robot into a killing game in place of a human?”

Kiibo stared blankly ahead.

“What? Nagito, no, that’s…” Hajime shook his head in confused exasperation, and turned back to Kiibo. “Tell us about yourself, Kiibo.”

“The temperature is 71 degrees Fahrenheit,” Kiibo answered.

“Okay, well, we’re working on it,” Hajime mumbled.

Before Nagito could respond, he felt an elbow accidentally brush his. When he whirled his head to face the other, Hajime did the same, noses almost bumping.

“Um,” Hajime said gracefully, blushing, but he didn’t move away.

Nagito’s heart raced in ecstatic anticipation, one inch away from closing the distance, but…

“Where’s Kazuichi?” Nagito whispered.

A toilet flushed in response.

Hajime closed his eyes and sighed, close enough for Nagito to feel the puff of air. He looked disappointed. 

Surreal.

Instead, he placed two fingers on Nagito’s chin, turning him to the side, before pecking a quick kiss on the apple of his cheek.

Hajime immediately released him, sputtering out goodbye’s and see-you-later’s, one step from imploding. It was hard to judge when Hajime would be overcome with bashfulness; he’d acted so confident the night before. Perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

As soon as Nagito exited the room, his feet planted themselves in the hall, as he placed a hand on his face where Hajime’s lips had been, an oddly wide smile splitting his expression.

He was wrong. The luck scale was definitely tipped in his favor.

Admittedly, that had a very ominous implication, but a voice caught his attention before Nagito had a chance to dwell on it.

“Way to go, marshmallow man! You finally hit that?” Kokichi seemed to materialize in front of him, peering up with an expectant grin.

Nagito blinked. “I hit… what?”

Kokichi stuck his tongue out. “Ugh, don’t even try! I totally heard you guys going at it like bunnies last night.”

“You heard us talking?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Really, talking? That’s dull.”

Nagito had a feeling he was just scammed out of information.

“It was so obvious you guys wanted to jump each other’s bones when you were screaming at each other yesterday,” Kokichi commented, leaning against the wall and examining his nails. “That’s why I gave that schmaltzy speech yesterday, ya know. I bet if I made up some corny love story, it’d finally wake up your-”

“That wasn’t made up,” Nagito interrupted.

Kokichi’s eyes flicked up towards him.

“Your motive about caring for someone involved in the next Danganronpa… that was true, wasn’t it?” Nagito continued. “I could buy simple boredom as a reason for someone like you, but…” He couldn’t quite explain how he knew, not with a concrete reason, anyway. It was more like an odd gut feeling, or a strange twinge of familiarity. He knew he was still going out on a limb, but Nagito’s confirmation was Kokichi’s subtle glance away, the almost-unnoticeable twitch of his fingers.

“Whatever,” Kokichi dismissed, propelling himself back into a standing position. “You’re just sassy ‘cause Hajiman’s gonna dump you tonight.”

Nagito flinched, horror creeping up his stomach. “He… did he say that? Are you sure? I knew he would eventually, but this soon? It was only a matter of time, I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but-!”

Kokichi blanked. “Wait, what?” 

“When did he tell you? How long has he been planning this? Should I-?”

Kokichi snickered and bopped Nagito on the forehead. “Wow, marshmallow man. Your thinker sure is unreliable, huh?”

********************

Nagito steeled himself for Kokichi’s warning to come true later that night, when most of the group were headed off to bed to avoid the curfew. When the hall was empty, Hajime paused with his hand on the doorknob to his room.

“Nagito, uh…” Hajime started, still facing away.

Nagito gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes shut, ready to be broken.

“...are you still… worried about being in your room alone?” Hajime finished awkwardly. 

Nagito’s eyes popped back open. 

“I mean… I’m not judging you, the whole hotel thing is… kinda creepy, and…” Hajime trailed off. He was staring intensely at the floor, a bumbling mess. A blush seemed to be a permanent fixture on his expression these days, but he was holding his door wide open, unintentionally blocking Nagito from going back to his own room anyway, even if he wanted to.

Good thing he didn’t want to.

So Nagito told Hajime that yes, he was extremely terrified of spending the night alone, and Hajime said that he really didn’t mind having the company, and that it only made sense for them to share the bed again. After all, they didn’t want to deny Nami of her armchair.

So, Kokichi had lied about Hajime wanting to break things off. Just like how he lied about his motives for joining Danganronpa, and probably many other things, as well. Strange lies based on nothing. “Trustworthy” and “Kokichi” would never belong in the same sentence, and considering how he was the basket the group had put all their eggs in, it should have been very concerning.

But liars could spot liars. And schemers could spot schemers. It sounded a bit coldhearted, but in reality, there needed to be someone like that in a twisted thing like Danganronpa. Good people could only see so far, without having their perspective shaken by some seemingly cruel individual.

Antagonizers could spot antagonizers.

But as arms unconsciously pulled him tighter, burying his face gently in pajama fabric, Nagito liked to think it was at least somewhat appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the third day in the hotel, the crowd had arrived.

When Hajime woke up, the first thing he’d noticed was the distinct lack of warmth that had been curled against him during the night. Instead, Nagito was standing a bit away, hair damp from the shower. It explained where he was, but not why he was staring so intently out the window, the red sky behind him forming a sort of devilish halo.

“Morning?” Hajime offered, voice hoarse with sleep.

Nagito didn’t answer, and simply pulled the curtain open wider.

Hajime frowned and pulled himself out of bed to investigate.

Although they were confined to the first floor of the hotel, the incline of the land underneath gave a formidable overhead view of the back road heading into Aozora. But at the moment, that same back road was covered by thousands of people, making their steady way into the city.

“Holy shit. Did they walk all the way here?” Hajime cursed, unable to look away from that zombielike horde.

“I’m not sure how else that many people would get here,” Nagito answered, concern painting his features.

“It’s all for the damn game, isn’t it?” Hajime muttered. Of course it was. They didn’t want to miss their grand spectacle. It didn’t matter if they weren’t active participants in this Danganronpa; they were laughable players all the same. Again.

“Fuck them. We’re going to stop it. We are ,” Hajime growled. They needed to. He needed to.

Nagito chewed his lip.

********************

Ever since Tsumugi had left the hotel on the first day, Toko had seldom left her and Komaru’s room. Hina assured everyone that she checked on her often to bring food, and Mikan frequented to tend to the comatose Komaru. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to do much; apparently, Toko was borderline unresponsive.

Hajime thought he knew why.

But then the nurse came rushing into the lobby, announcing Komaru’s consciousness.

Makoto was by his sister’s side in a flash, Hajime hurrying behind. 

“Tell me what’s happening! Please! ” Hajime heard Komaru beg even before he’d fully entered the room.

“We’ll tell you everything, okay? Just tell us how you’re feeling first,” Makoto said, but his promise did nothing to soothe the girl. Her eyes were wild and wet, her chest heaving with hysteria.

“How I’m feeling!? I’m… I…!” Komaru wheezed. “I was getting hit and shoved and kicked and scratched by… by people , and I don’t remember anything after that, and then I woke up in some weird room, and Toko won’t talk to me, and-!”

The aforementioned girl was hunched in the armchair, eyes wide and unseeing. It looked like she hadn’t changed clothes since she’d cleaned up from her massacre, and a plate of food was left untouched on the table next to her.

She remained in that shocked stupor all throughout Makoto’s hesitant retelling of the past couple days. Seeing Komaru’s horrified reactions to the nightmare they’d been thrown in was hardly easier than hearing the news the first time. It was a reopening of wounds that were far from healed, a twisted reminder of how fucked up their reality was.

“You should have made me one of the participants,” Komaru whispered through streaming tears. “I made things worse by attacking Tsumugi. I know I did.”

Makoto shook his head furiously. “No! There’s no way we would let that happen!”

“You attacking Tsumugi couldn’t have changed much,” Hajime spoke up for the first time. He was there as a doctor, trying not to encroach too much on personal conversation. “Her plan’s been in motion since… I don’t even know when. Months, at least.”

“And you did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect us!” Makoto insisted.

Komaru nodded, not looking entirely convinced. But she sniffled and shakily wiped her face, like she was trying to manually shift the mood of the conversation. “How did you even get me out? There were so many people, I-”

“I killed them.”

Three heads whipped towards Toko, still curled emotionless on the chair.

“You…” Komaru’s eyes filled up again. “Oh, Toko…”

“That wasn’t you!” Makoto insisted. “That was Jack! It wasn’t your fault, just like everything else she-”

“It was,” Toko interrupted, too mechanical to stutter. “I knew what she would do. But I pulled the trigger on the taser. I forced her to front. I wanted her to… to…” she faded out. 

“You were doing it for me,” Komaru whispered, half assurance, half heart wrenching guilt. 

“There was another way. There had to be,” Toko shut her down. “I took the easy way. All those years were n-n-n…” Her voice cut off with a choke, before breaking down completely, sobbing into her lap. 

“They weren’t nothing! You can’t blame yourself for-!” Komaru tried to go towards her, but she was far from feeling back to normal, stumbling before she could even take a step forward. Makoto caught her and helped her reluctantly get back on the mattress.

All she could do was watch Toko tear herself into pieces.

********************

The mood had hardly improved since.

Hajime and Kazuichi were working tirelessly on Kiibo, from dusk till dawn. Kazuichi had been right; a week was hardly enough time to make the robot workable. Alter Ego had even been putting in overtime, working by himself while everyone slept. Hajime never met Chihiro, but he was overwhelmingly grateful for his creation all the same.

“Kiibo, tell us about yourself,” Kazuichi prompted.

No response.

Sometime during the process, they’d accidentally sacrificed his voice recognition function for better speech capabilities. They didn’t have time for one step forward and one step back; they needed to run.

But if Hajime went one more moment without a goddamn break, he was pretty sure his head would explode, so when he saw a flash of white pass by through the hallway, he took the opportunity.

“Hey, wait up!” Hajime called, trotting after Nagito.

Nagito turned around at the voice, his face brightening at seeing who it belonged to. He met Hajime halfway, reaching out to grip his sleeve when they were close enough. “Is something the matter?”

“What? No, everything’s fine. I mean, as fine as it can be right now,” Hajime answered, a bit bewildered. “I just wanted to say hi. Is that okay?”

Nagito looked positively baffled. “You went out of your way to say hello? To me?”

Hajime snorted. “Yes…? That shouldn’t be that shocking since… you know.” Hajime couldn’t find it in himself to finish that sentence. Feelings were difficult for him to vocalize, for many reasons. “I mean. I’m not complaining that your bar for me is low.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

Nagito stared back with a strange intensity, glanced at the ground, looked back, and gave a decisive nod. Hajime watched in bemused confusion as the boy let go of his sleeve and took a step away.

“Hajime, I’d like to kiss you again. Is that okay?” Nagito asked with the oddest formality.

Hajime sputtered, his face positively on fire. “Oh. Oh! I mean. You don’t… You don’t have to ask first , I mean… We’ve already… you know! So…”

If Nagito ditched him on the spot, Hajime would completely understand.

Nagito furrowed his eyebrows. “Hajime, I absolutely need to ask first.”

Hajime winced, waiting for the onslaught of self-deprecation, but…

“You didn’t get the chance to be asked first in the past. And I… I was part of that,” Nagito insisted, disgust and hurt layered in his voice. “I need you to know that I hate that about myself, and I never want you to feel like that again. And that you’re different. You’re better than… him, and you’re better than everything you were put through.”

Oh.

Words swirled and bounced in Hajime’s throat, but they couldn’t form, couldn’t piece together. He didn’t know how long he stood there in silence, drowning in nameless feelings, before he felt a thin finger swipe under his eye.

“You’re crying,” Nagito murmured guiltily. “This was too soon, I… I’m forcing myself on you. I didn’t mean to take advantage. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just...” Hajime muttered thickly, unaware of the wetness on his face until it was mentioned. But one of those mysterious emotions came to the forefront; one that he could absolutely place. “I just really love you. A lot.”

Despite everything, Nagito was completely thrown off guard, looking like he was one second from combusting on the spot. “Hajime, don’t feel like you need to lower the bar for me as well! You-”

Hajime clasped Nagito’s face in his hands, effectively shutting him up. “ Please kiss me.”

Nagito heated up between Hajime’s palms. “I didn’t mean to pressure you!”

But Hajime felt the opposite of pressured when he leaned in.

They hadn’t kissed since their first. They’d come close several times during the two nights they had spent together, when they would open their eyes to find their faces a breath apart, or when their “I love you’s” were finally, finally reciprocated. But there was always something in the way. On Hajime’s side, it was nerves. He figured that it was the same for the other.

Nagito startled at the contact, then fluttered his eyelids shut as he returned the kiss. His touch was cautious, hesitant; his fingers traced from Hajime’s cheek to his jaw, glided down his neck, curved around his shoulders, stopped at his waist. Hajime smiled against him and tilted his head further to deepen the kiss, one hand smoothing across Nagito’s back and the other tucking a downy curl behind his ear. This seemed to give Nagito the confidence he needed. He smiled back, pressing as close as he could, tangling his right hand in Hajime’s hair, brushing their lips sweetly together. 

If Hajime’s brain wasn’t a complete haze, he’d be cursing himself for not doing this sooner. At the moment, he was convinced that the best thing he could have done would be to pull Nagito down towards him right there on the beach, when they had first met. 

Their first two kisses didn’t hold a candle to this. Maybe it wouldn’t be too inconvenient if Hajime’s break lasted a bit longer-

“Ew, gross! ”

Hajime and Nagito leaped apart. 

Kokichi was standing at the end of the hallway, pretending to vomit on the carpet.

Goddammit.

But before Hajime could yell at him to keep his fucking mouth shut , Makoto called back, out of sight. “Kokichi? Is everything okay?”

Kokichi gave them a wide, shark-like grin and winked, before walking off and answering. “No! Marshmallow man’s dog peed on the floor!”

“That’s… whatever,” Hajime grumbled. He very much didn’t want to disclose this kind of thing with the others just yet, especially Kokichi, and he wasn’t looking forward to whatever torment the little brat would inflict. But he supposed it didn’t technically matter.

He turned back around to tell Nagito just that, but it didn’t look like the boy had comprehended anything that had happened. He had the dazed, goofy smile of someone who’d had a bit too much to drink, and Hajime could practically see the birds circling above his head.

“Are… are you okay?” Hajime asked, still a bit foggy himself.

Instead of answering, Nagito slumped forward to embrace him, looping his arms around Hajime’s neck. He stumbled from the sudden weight, but returned the hug.

“Nagito…?” Hajime ventured, unsure if he should be charmed or concerned.

“Hmm?” Nagito replied, his happy hum vibrating against Hajime’s shoulder.

Charmed, it was. 

“You’re so weird,” Hajime laughed.

“Is that okay?” Nagito asked, his voice muffled and teasing; no hint of self-doubt, at least for now.

Hajime leaned his cheek against Nagito’s.

“Definitely.”

********************

Their tireless work seemed to pay off; on the fourth day, Kiibo was nearly finished.

“Kiibo, tell us about yourself,” Hajime asked. Kazuichi peered at the robot with anticipation.

“Of course, Hajime,” Kiibo said. “My name is K1-B0, but I recommend that you refer to me as ‘Kiibo’. My body has been in development for two months and two days, and my AI has been in development for three days. My creator is Kazuichi Soda, who is a super awesome dude.”

Hajime raised his eyebrows. Kazuichi grinned. “He’s an honest guy, what can I say?”

Hajime could have said a lot of things, but Sonia’s voice rang through the room first.

“Oh, he is adorable!”

The princess rushed in, cooing over the said robot. Kiibo regarded her blankly as she took his hands in hers.

“Kiibo, it is wonderful to meet you! Thank you for everything you are doing for us!” Sonia gushed.

Kiibo blinked. “Yes. I am meeting you.”

“Yeah, he’s not a real people-person, yet,” Kazuichi admitted. “That’s kinda the next step.”

“You mean like his personality?” Komaru joined them. Mikan had deemed her well enough to walk around, but she rarely did. Toko remained holed up in their room, and Komaru was adamant about leaving her side as little as possible. But Sonia assured her that it would do good to at least have a stroll around the hotel. Granted, it would have been better to give her fresh air as well, but that was a commodity that was off-limits to all of them.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long!” Alter Ego spoke from the laptop. “As part of my initial programming, Chihiro had provided me with enough data to mimic all of his classmates. With that, I can give Kiibo a personality by mixing theirs!”

Hajime thought that was a bit weird, but he was too appreciative to worry about it now.

“So, I was thinking: we take Mondo and Sakura’s personalities to make him, like, a super badass!” Kazuichi crowed. “He’ll be unbeatable!”

“And I was thinking that combining two fighters to make our robot would be really dumb , since we’re trying to stop anything violent from happening,” Hajime replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look at him, I bet he would be an absolute sweetheart!” Sonia argued, trying and failing to pinch Kiibo’s cheeks. He wasn't phased.

“You… huh?” Kazuichi said, completely crestfallen.

“If he’s gonna help stop Danganronpa, he should be a really good guy, right?” Komaru suggested. “You should put Makoto in there.”

“He should have a strong moral compass, too. He won’t remember his purpose in the game, so he’ll need to know not to kill, under any circumstance,” Hajime added.

“And he must be sweet!” Sonia chirped.

Alter Ego paused and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “My recommendation for Kiibo’s personality, based on your suggestions, is 45% Chihiro Fujisaki, 35% Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and 20% Makoto Naegi. Would you like to confirm?”

“He… He’s my robot! I should decide what he’s like!” Kazuichi whined.

“And it’s all of our asses on the line,” Hajime replied. Granted, they also had Kokichi on their side, but that offered an alarmingly small amount of comfort.

“Kazuichi, please! I believe that Alter Ego’s combination would be a marvelous match for Kiibo!” Sonia pleaded, still holding onto the subject at hand.

Fortunately, that seemed to be the push Kazuichi needed.

“Fine, fine, confirm,” Kazuichi grumbled.

“Wonderful!” Alter Ego chirped. “Kiibo, could you come here?”

Kiibo untangled himself from Sonia and obeyed, taking one of the cords hanging from the laptop and plugging it into the socket on his chest. It was difficult to tell with his complete lack of emotion or individuality, but now, Kiibo could function almost as realistically as any human could. 

Hajime hated being the Ultimate Everything, but at least it was useful.

“Is he okay?” Komaru asked when Kiibo fell into a sitting position, his eyes blacking out once again.

“He’s perfectly fine! The personality programming will take several hours, but he should be good to go by morning,” Alter Ego assured.

Hajime desperately hoped he was right. They had no time to spare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the fifth day, Kiibo was finished.

“Kiibo, tell us about yourself!” Kazuichi commanded proudly. He and Hajime had led Kiibo into the lobby that afternoon, dark circles under both of their eyes. Last night, the two lost track of time, accidentally shutting Hajime in the room when curfew struck. Since they were already there, they decided to pull an all-nighter to work on the robot.

Nagito very much missed the company.

“Hello, everyone,” Kiibo greeted with a quick bow. “My name is K1-B0, but please, call me Kiibo. I’m either two months and three days old, or four days old, depending on your definition of ‘age’. Kazuichi Soda is my father.”

Kazuichi squeaked in excitement, the glow of newfound parenthood on his face.

“I’m honored to work beside all of you to stop Danganronpa, so don’t feel any remorse for sending me in your place. I hope to do my purpose justice,” Kiibo declared, a smile on his face. 

“Oh my, you are just precious! ” Sonia gasped, before pulling the robot into a massive, and probably uncomfortable, hug.

“Miss Sonia! Why are you...!?” Kiibo stuttered. Nagito could have sworn he saw a blush on his cheeks. Hajime was right; he really was like a human, once he was given a personality.

“He’s not completely finished, but for right now, it should be fine,” Hajime said, while Sonia continued to coo over their flustered new friend. “He’s a learning computer, so he’s constantly developing, the more he hangs around people. So if you’ve got time, you should come see him. Talk to him. That sort of thing.”

“I demand that I get first dims!” Sonia insisted.

“Do you… mean ‘dibs’?” Kiibo asked hesitantly.

“His antenna is new, isn’t it?” Kyoko commented. “Is that simply for aesthetic reasons?”

“So… we gave him some of Kiyotaka’s good versus bad thingie, but like Hajime said, he’s still learning. He can answer easy questions,” Kazuichi explained, before turning to Kiibo. “What’s better, Kiibs: giving to charity, or stealing?”

“Charity, of course!” Kiibo answered confidently. “According to utilitarianism, our goal as a society is to make sure that the greatest amount of people receive the greatest amount of benefit.”

“Good, good,” Kazuichi nodded. “But what if the person is stealing money from a mass-murdering pedophile who’s already got like, a billion dollars? And that charity is to fund that guy’s mass-murdering pedophilic ways?”

“Well, you-” Kiibo started, then paused, a conflicted look on his face. “If the… so what you do is…” 

Hajime procured a radio-like device from his pocket, and spoke quietly into it.

Kiibo immediately perked up. “You should steal the money, and use it to hire a private investigator to find incriminating details on the mass-murdering pedophile!”

Sonia patted his head affectionately.

“Kiibo is pretty functional on his own, but if he’s at a loss at what to do, we’ll help him,” Hajime said. “Kinda like an inner voice, I guess.”

“‘Inner voice’? You’re saying that little Kiiboy the can-opener’s got a conscience?” Kokichi giggled.

“Don’t be fuckin’ robophobic, you-!” Kazuichi raged.

Kiibo looked thoughtful at the accusation.

“Will he possess his access to moral guidance in the technological hellscape he will be thrown into?” Gundham pondered.

Hajime chewed his lip. “We don’t know. Maybe all of this is useless. But if there’s anything we can do from outside the simulation to help, then we will.”

“I mean, it still looks cool though, right?” Kazuichi immediately brightened again. “He’s gonna be the star of the show! Plus, Hajime and Makoto both got that weird hair thing, too, so he’ll fit right in.”

“Wait, what?” Makoto blanked.

“Oh, fuck off.” Hajime glared, self-consciously scratching at his cowlick.

Nagito hid a grin behind his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the sixth day, they had run out of time.

“Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 am, and nighttime is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beautiful day!”

“Jesus, fuck! ” Hajime gasped, ripped from slumber. He jolted to a sitting position, roughly knocking Nagito back against the pillow.

“Mmf…” Nagito mumbled. “Was that…?”

It was.

What Hajime had assumed was a regular TV, mounted above the dresser, had turned on by itself. On the screen was none other than Monokuma himself. Because of course.

His beady eyes seemed to bore into Hajime, no doubt watching them all from those cameras placed in each room. Cameras that Hajime had been aware of immediately. He threw out a protective arm, backing him and Nagito up to the headboard. Like that would do anything.

“I forgot how cute you all look, tucked into your little beds! I could just eat you up!” Monokuma cackled, the sound piercing Hajime’s brain like an icicle. “But as sweet as it is, you guys’ve got a huge day today! Get your little butts to the lobby!”

The screen faded to static.

Hajime cursed. “I thought we had more time.”

He himself wasn’t sure what specifically he was referring to.

“It’ll be worse if we stay here,” Nagito said, picking the safest meaning to respond to.

“I know. Shit, I know,” Hajime winced.

Maybe if Nagito were someone else, he’d provide words of comfort. He’d say that everything would be fine, they would win, no one would get hurt. That there would be no despair. That hope could prevail even without darkness.

But instead, he kept quiet, pulling himself up to wrap Hajime into an embrace, holding him as long as they dared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An opening ceremony. It kind of made sense.

Actually, no. It definitely made sense.

Once all the hotel-dwellers were herded into the lobby, Monokuma giddily explained their itinerary for the day. The new Danganronpa contestants would be announced before the massive crowd, the old players introduced as guests of honor. Excluding Komaru and the dog, of course.

Tsumugi had officially reclaimed her original getup to fit in with the rest of her competition. Her identity would be unknown to everyone, creating a fun little guessing game for the viewers at home.

But Kokichi knew who she was.

He wondered if he’d ever get any of his memories back after the game was done. Because he sure as hell wasn’t holding onto them for much longer.

He and Kiibo had been “escorted” out by three of those brainwashed guards, forcing their little fanclub waiting outside to part like the Red Sea. Hands reached out to touch the two of them, snagging on clothes and grasping for contact. Kiibo had bumbled, cowering away from them and insisting that although he hadn’t been alive for very long, even he knew that this kind of thing was wildly inappropriate. 

Kokichi just grinned and claimed that he was much too used to rabid fans to be bothered. 

They were taken to an impressive stadium, perhaps used for some sport back when the world wasn’t a shitshow. Despite the sheer number of people they’d already passed through, the bleachers were filled and getting fuller. Still, they stayed quiet, not one whisper sounding from the masses. Kokichi figured they didn’t have enough going on upstairs to care much about conversation. 

It was only when they were gathered in a back room that Kokichi began to feel uncharacteristically antsy. Besides their zombie friends, Kokichi and Kiibo were the fifteenth and sixteenth teenagers (or, teenage- looking , in Kiibo’s case) to enter the room. Which meant that here with them, was-

“We need to look for Tsumugi,” Kiibo whispered. “What does she look like?”

Well yes, Tsumugi, too. Not quite what Kokichi was thinking of at the moment, though. 

“I dunno. Just look for tacky red fingernails,” Kokichi dismissed, peering around the group. “Can-openers can see color, right?”

Kiibo let out an indignant gasp. “I’ll have you know, I can see just as well as any human! That’s robo-”

But Kokichi had already locked onto his target. 

He was wearing a dark school uniform, just like the rest of them, but that out-of-place baseball hat was a dead giveaway. 

“Heeey, Shumai! Fancy meeting you here!” Kokichi sidled over to press his shoulder against the boy’s back.  

Kokichi knew Shuichi was in the cast. But he still hoped he’d changed his mind. 

Shuichi turned around slowly, mechanically. His eyes were unfocused, fixed on some point on Kokichi’s forehead. 

And they were swirling. Swirling with despair. Just like they had been the day before Shuichi had run away from him.

“What are you doing here?” Shuichi asked, but his voice had no inflection. 

Kokichi grasped his arms desperately. “Shuichi! I’m dying, and your kidney is the only match!”

Shuichi blinked. 

Kokichi scoffed. “You know why I’m here.”

Shuichi would have glared, had he been able to. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“Aww, you remembered?” Kokichi simpered. 

Shuichi stared.  

Kokichi smirked. 

It was living hell. 

Maybe it was a good thing that the guards chose to line them up then, on their way to make their grand entrance. Kokichi knew where the conversation would have headed soon, and he despised losing his cool unintentionally. 

Kokichi had long since grown accustomed to red sky; ironically, it was somehow more jarring when it had returned to normal for just a few weeks. But now it only seemed fitting as the sixteen filed on the turf. Kokichi supposed it would have been intimidating to most, being ogled by thousands of people, elevated so high and dead silent. Kiibo certainly seemed intimidated, nervously tapping his fingers on his leg, the small clangs echoing in the open space. The “honored guests” sitting in the first row didn’t seem particularly happy either, varying levels of fear and anger on their faces. 

The other contestants couldn’t find it in themselves to care. Neither did Kokichi. 

Nor did he care enough to listen to Monokuma’s spiel. Despair. Innovation. Entertainment. Despair. All-new cast. Despair. 

Though, curiosity did get the best of him during the introductions. After all, who didn’t want to meet their new classmates?

The descriptions were brief, of course. Monokuma didn’t dare spoil who the crowd should root for, or who they should want dead. Name and talent; that’s all the people were told. 

The Ultimate Pianist, Kaede Akamatsu. The Ultimate Anthropologist, Korekiyo Shinguji. The Ultimate Maid, Kirumi Tojo. 

“The Ultimate Detective, Shuichi Saihara!”

Kokichi cast a sidelong glance at the boy next to him, waving and smiling blankly at the crowd just like the others.

Shuichi was smart, and surely his deduction skills were impeccable. But a detective? He was still a normal high school kid, for God’s sake. 

Kokichi wondered if it was like that for the others. Tsumugi didn’t have access to Ultimates when she first cooked up the idea for the new game. So, she stole random teens who claimed to be volunteers, under the influence of despair, just like her. Maybe Kaede enjoyed playing piano, maybe Gonta liked bugs, maybe Himiko dabbled in magic tricks. But all of them having some godly talent? Hardly possible. 

“The Ultimate Robot, K1-B0!”

Kiibo flinched, clearly torn between politely addressing the crowd and standing tall with loyal hostility. Kazuichi cheered quietly from the stands. Fuyuhiko elbowed him. 

“The Ultimate Supreme Leader-”

-Must be Tsumugi. Wasn’t that what she was, the leader of the new Danganronpa world? It wasn’t very sneaky, that cheeky bi-

“-Kokichi Ouma!”

Huh. 

A bit overpowered, wasn’t it? It seemed kind of foolish at first; giving her enemy a sense of fabricated entitlement. However...

“Ultimate Supreme Leader”. What an ominous label. 

Tsumugi was setting him up to be the villain, wasn’t she? Making him “evil” would be making him a target. Someone everyone wanted gone. Killed. And honestly, “malicious fiend” was a descriptor that Kokichi’s personality meshed quite well with. 

He could work with that. 

Kokichi curtsied. 

The Ultimate Childcare Giver, Maki Harukawa. The Ultimate Astronaut, Kaito Momota. 

“The Ultimate Cosplayer, Tsumugi Shirogane!”

Oh, how cute. 

An absolutely unremarkable glasses-wearing, blue-haired girl waved a manicured hand, ignoring the intense attention from her treasured Ultimate Survivors. 

It was nice to see her. It was always good to know the face of the person whose grave you’ll dig yourself. 

“Rantaro Amami, the Ultimate- oh, looks like we’re out of time!” Monokuma squawked. 

Because they couldn’t have Danganronpa without their Ultimate Question Mark, could they?

“Take one last gander at these adorably dumb faces with their adorably dark despair! Because next time you see them, it’ll be on the big screen, with all of ‘em back to their chipper hopeful selves, memories wiped as clean as a buttcheek,” Monokuma sighed fondly. “The first time is always the sweetest, isn’t it? Don’t you want these little kiddies’ morales get torn to shreds?!”

The crowd intoned a synchronized “Yes.”

Any advantage Kokichi had given himself by snooping was gone. He was on the same playing field as everyone. Everyone except her. 

He could work with that. 

Distorted graduation music crackled from the speakers as the players were marched away. 

“Place your bets! Have your drinking games! Host your watch parties!” Monokuma’s voice trailed after them. 

The exit to the stadium was right by the survivors’ seats, anxiety radiating off them in waves. Kazuichi was sobbing, reaching towards Kiibo, telling him how proud he was of his robot son, and that he’d do great. Kiibo nodded determinedly. 

Their memories were going to be wiped. But if Kokichi had twenty-something Ultimates on his side, then maybe… 

Kokichi broke off from the line, placing a foot on the rail to vault himself up to his allies. He grabbed a handful of the startled Nagito’s shirt and yanked him within earshot. His boy toy next to him jumped up in surprise. 

“Look for a sign, marshmallow man,” Kokichi hissed in Nagito’s ear. 

He pulled back in confusion. “A sign…? What do you-?”

But Kokichi was ripped violently back down by a guard, forcing him back into formation. 

Nagito was smart. He’d understand when the opportunity came. If it came. 

But now, it was time to go. 

Chapter Text

“...Hajime?”

“Mm?”

“Are you awake?”

“I said ‘mm’, didn’t I?”

“Mm.”

In fact, Hajime had been awake for quite a while now; his internal alarm generally got him up around 8 in the morning, and the clock on the wall was currently flashing “9:03 am”. Instead, he’d kept himself glued to the mattress. If he stayed in bed long enough, maybe the day would never come. Maybe Danganronpa wouldn’t start in just a few hours.

He wondered if it was the same for Nagito. After all, he tended to wake up even earlier to take a shower, before settling delicately back under the blankets until Hajime woke up as well. But he remained in the same spot where he had fallen asleep; draped across Hajime like a blanket, his head resting on the other’s lower chest.

“Did I wake you up? I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable to have me restrict your breathing like this.”

“You weigh like, two pounds.”

“So then… you’re nervous about today?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really. Ever since they met, Nagito had the uncanny ability to read Hajime like a book. Once he got past assuming everything was his fault, that is.

“You’re not?”

Nagito let out a thoughtful hum. “We’re going to try to stop it. The players are going to try to stop it, too, I imagine. But dreading it beforehand is… useless.”

Hajime frowned, inclining his neck to look at Nagito. “I don’t get how you’re able to do that,” he said. At his words, Nagito rotated his head to face him as well, his chin digging slightly into the dip of Hajime’s sternum. “One minute, you’re all metaphorical and... unnaturally hard on yourself, and the next, you’re the biggest realist I know.”

Nagito’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry. I know I’m very disturbing to talk to.”

Like that, Hajime thought. He reached out a hand, tracing his fingers gently across the soft skin of Nagito’s cheek. Nagito leaned into the touch and smiled, recognizing Hajime’s unspoken disagreement.

“What do you want to talk about, then?” Nagito asked.

Hajime leaned up just enough to loop his arms under Nagito’s and slide him up his body until they were level. He really was quite light. “I want to talk about what we’re gonna do after all of this is over.”

Nagito placed his head on the pillow between Hajime’s shoulder and neck, his breath tickling the other’s ear. “We’ll probably help the Future Foundation in rehabilitating all of the Danganronpa players.”

“We’ll go back to live on the island,” Hajime said, ignoring him.

“Jabberwock was blown up,” Nagito pointed out.

“We’ll live on another island, then.” Hajime closed his eyes. “We won’t have to do anything we don’t want to. Or go anywhere we don’t wanna go. We can just… chill.”

“Hmm. Am I invited?” Nagito murmured, snuggling closer. His self-doubt seemed to ease up when they were close like this. Second-guessing someone’s affections was hard to do when you were wrapped around them, Hajime supposed. 

“Everyone here’s invited. You have to come,” Hajime replied. He wasn’t quite paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth, but that was fine. It was kind of nice. 

“I have to come? Why is that?” Nagito mused, absent-mindedly picking at the neckline of Hajime’s shirt. 

“We can be one of those stupid-happy couples in the class. Like, the kind everyone stays away from ‘cause it’s too sappy and gross,” Hajime said. It was also harder to be flustered saying goopy, embarrassing stuff to someone when they were sleepily kissing random spots on the side of your face. 

“A stupid-happy couple in the class? Like Sonia and Gundham?” Nagito kissed his jaw. 

Hajime opened one eye. “Sonia and-? Am I Sonia or Gundham in this case? ‘Cause either way, no.”

“Mahiru and Hiyoko, then?”

Hajime made a face. “Definitely not.”

“Akane and-”

“How about we just be ‘Hajime and Nagito’, yeah?” Hajime interrupted before he could conjure up any more unpleasant mental images. 

Nagito smiled before leaning up to kiss his lips this time, and lingering much, much longer. “‘Hajime and Nagito’. That would be nice.”

And it was Hajime and Nagito that ran right into Sonia when they were exiting the bedroom. Together. 

“Oh! Hey! Um! We were just, uh-!” Hajime’s brain overheated as Sonia’s eyes widened, the two of them very much caught. “We were just talking about, uh! You know, the game! Like how to stop it. And stuff.”

“Yes. Hajime is much too important to have relations with a dust mite like me!” Nagito piped up. 

Hajime gawked at him. Nagito shrugged helplessly.

“I, ah, just wanted to warn you.” Sonia ignored their fumble, but was very obviously biting back a grin. “Many of our friends are very welcoming of a distraction, right now, and it is nice to talk about something… positive.”

“What… are you talking about…?” Hajime blanked. 

Sonia's eyebrows rose. “You did not notice? They moved the nameplates!”

Hajime surveyed the hallway. So they did; but not all. Sonia’s plate was now next to Gundham’s on the latter’s door. Makoto’s was on Kyoko’s door, Peko on Fuyuhiko’s, Mahiru on Hiyoko’s, Akane on Nekomaru’s. Even Komaru had a plate now, hanging next to Toko’s. 

That was… concerning. There were cameras in every room; if their captors wanted an accurate read on who was sleeping where, they would be able to get it. That was probably how they knew to change the assignments around in the first place. It was almost like they wanted to be able to tell where everyone was with just one glance. Hajime wasn’t sure he wanted to know why. 

And it wasn’t like it was any cost or benefit to any of them. It was easy to guess who would be rooming with-

Wait. 

Cold dread creeped up Hajime’s spine as he turned towards his own door. Sure enough, he was greeted with two pixelated faces staring right back at him. 

His and Nagito’s. 

Nagito winced. 

Hajime started desperately scrabbling at both of the plates, but to no avail. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway; their door was the first in the hall. It would be impossible for anyone on their way to the lobby to miss. 

Sonia’s words suddenly made a lot more sense. 

“No one is judging either of you!” Sonia quickly amended. The corners of her mouth were trying and failing not to quirk up. “In fact, some were saying that they had guessed this would happen quite a while ago!”

Now Hajime really wished he’d stayed in bed.

“I am sorry,” Sonia amended, attempting to look it. 

If he went back inside his room alone, Nagito would have to face the onslaught alone. However, if they stayed longer in the room together , it would look much, much worse.

Hajime squared his shoulders and continued forward.

“You must tell me everything !” He heard Sonia whisper giddily to Nagito. He pretended he didn’t.

However, it was much harder to pretend he didn’t notice many pairs of eyes on the three of them as they entered the dining room. Sleeping past 9 am may have been common back at Jabberwock, but now, the situation was much too stressful for most of them to stay in bed and let their anxieties consume them.

So, they had a nice, formidable audience.

“...Have a good night?” Akane finally broke the silence. 

Hajime gritted his teeth, paying absolutely no attention to the amount of cereal he was pouring into his bowl.

“Yes, and you?” Nagito answered politely. Hajime wondered if he was trying to steer the conversation, or if he was simply that dense. With him, it could have gone either way.

“Really? You look kinda tired,” Fuyuhiko commented, like the traitor he was. Peko hid a small smile.

Nagito frowned. “We slept fine, I think. Though I understand that I’m quite unsightly in the morning.”

“‘We’? ‘We’?” Ibuki parroted, clutching her face in her hands in false shock.

Hajime now had way too much cereal, but he kept pouring.

“Oops,” Nagito whispered at his own mistake. He started to leave the bar with a singular piece of toast like usual, but Hajime instinctively threw a couple pieces of bacon on his plate before he could stray too far. Someone needed to care about his malnutrition.

“Yes, protein is important!” Nekomaru guffawed.

Cereal spilled to the floor.

Kazuichi held his hand up for a high-five when Hajime passed. He got the middle finger instead.

Nagito cheerfully returned Kazuichi’s gesture in Hajime’s place.

Even though Hajime and Nagito had sat together at the same booth each morning during their stay, the arrangement drew a lot more attention than it usually did, whispers and quiet laughs following them.

“We don’t have to sit together if it makes you uncomfortable,” Nagito said in a low voice, leaning across the table. The words themselves should have been passive-aggressive, but they were spoken genuinely.

“Huh? No, I don’t… I think that’ll make us look even weirder,” Hajime mumbled. He immediately realized the complete lack of reassurance in his statement, but Nagito nodded earnestly before they ate in silence.

After a moment, Hajime spared a brave glance around the room from the corner of his eye.

There were laughs and jokes, but it was the kind of lighthearted teasing that friends did. The fact that they felt comfortable enough to do so probably meant that they were happy for them, like Sonia had said. The four that Nagito had been kidnapped with were in that category, as well as Peko, Nekomaru, and Gundham (though it was hard to tell with him). Ibuki had shot Hajime two thumbs up when they made eye contact, Makoto was trying not to grin, and Kyoko gave him an embarrassingly-knowing look. And he supposed that, based on their interactions with Nagito in the past two weeks, Komaru and Toko would have been in the same boat as well if they were present. If Hajime hadn’t been totally and thoroughly mortified, it might have warmed his heart.

But it was nowhere near a unanimous reaction.

Ryota had his eyes nervously glued to his plate. Hina was muttering to Hiro, her eyebrows drawn in slight concern. Hiyoko was openly staring, though Hajime supposed his talk with her a month ago prevented her from vocalizing her judgement. Even Teruteru didn’t have anything to say about Nagito and Hajime spending their nights together.

Hajime knew they didn’t mean it cruelly; Nagito was a threat back in the simulation, and they hadn’t spent enough time with him now to change their minds. Trust came slowly. But the thought didn’t do much to stifle the annoyance pricking at his brain.

Nagito followed his line of sight and ducked his head, shame written over his features. “I’m sorry we couldn’t keep quiet about this for very long.”

Of course he was more upset about Hajime being judged, rather than himself.

“Hey, wait,” Hajime interjected, very briefly touching the other’s hand to get his attention. “You know I’m not embarrassed because of you, right? You know I’m just weird about this… relationship stuff.”

“Yes, you told me that,” Nagito dodged the question, avoiding eye contact. 

Great job, Hajime. You somehow made his self-esteem worse.

Hajime had explained to him many, many times what the secrecy was for, but even then, he’d known that Nagito would still take it the wrong way. Hajime’s aversion to PDA and Nagito’s need for validation was a bit of a hurdle that they’d need to overcome, at least once things cooled down. 

So, Hajime decided to not be a selfish asshole, and moved around the table to slide next to Nagito in the booth. He threw one arm behind the other’s waist to pull him roughly against him. Nagito’s head bopped onto his shoulder.

“Hajime…?” Nagito regarded him with bewilderment.

“I’m making a point,” Hajime grumbled, face on fire. 

More laughs. Akane let out a wolf-whistle.

Hajime pulled his arm away, figuring that the sappy demonstration was sufficient, but Nagito stayed right where he was, even with an uncomfortably-craned neck. An enormous, goofy grin was curled across his face.

“Reel it in, buddy,” Hajime muttered, heating up more.

Nagito tried, but the smile wouldn’t budge. He settled on slapping a hand over his own mouth to hide it instead.

********************

Despair was, according to all the times the definition was forced down his throat, the lack of hope. Tsumugi had told them that there was also despair in choice.

But what choice did they have besides doing exactly what she wanted?

Hajime wanted to just reject her expectations, to cover his eyes and ears to ignore the game that would be broadcasting any moment, even though it would be petty and childish and extremely dumb to forgo what little chance they could at gathering information.

But there they were; twenty-three trauma-ridden people, huddled around the currently-blacked-out TV, waiting for the show to start. Sure, there were screens in every room. But who wanted to be alone at a time like this? Komaru had been successful at dragging even Toko out of her room, though she hardly looked any more coherent than she had when Hajime saw her last. The only one who looked genuinely happy about the situation was Nami, as she pranced around to greet all of her friends, pulling nervous smiles and pets from everyone but Ryota.

Unable to sit still any longer, Hajime joined Makoto and Kyoko at a table, the former typing away at his laptop while the latter peered over his shoulder.

“Any luck?” Hajime asked, though he knew the answer.

Makoto shook his head. Ever since they’d been locked in, he’d been trying to contact the Future Foundation. To no one’s surprise, every time it had been unsuccessful. As an amateur mastermind, Tsumugi had overlooked several aspects that had led to her constantly-changing plans. But it would have been overly-naïve wishful thinking to think that the ability to communicate with the outside world would be another oversight.

“I guess that’s one positive about today, huh?” Makoto said, though his voice was uncharacteristically bitter. “With all the broadcasted stuff, at least the Future Foundation will know we’re in trouble.”

“They may be able to deduce where we are as well, if they recognize the stadium we were in and where it’s located,” Kyoko added. 

Hajime knew it would hardly help their case, and surely the other two did, as well. Even if they were rescued and in a safe location, the game would still go on. And if it went on too long, Nagito would still be…

Killed Connected.

Hajime was pretty sure he never even heard Nagito mention that aspect. He expressed some worry over the contestants, but never himself. And it wasn’t like he was in denial, either; Nagito wanted to stop Danganronpa, but he far from assumed that they would be successful. After everything they’d been through, Nagito never saw his life as a priority. If anything, he saw it as an obstacle. Hajime despised it.

But would it be cruel to convince him to appreciate his life when it was so in danger of being-

“You’re still sure that there’s nothing we can do to at least protect Nagito?” Makoto asked quietly, noticing where Hajime’s eyes had drifted.

“There’s no protrusion where the device was planted,” Hajime answered dully. “We can’t leave. We have no medical equipment, except for what we used to help Komaru. Mikan said the hospital was completely ransacked, and trying to do brain surgery without proper tools would be even more...”

Of a death sentence Dangerous.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not going to get that far,” Hajime dismissed harshly, leaving the two before they could play devil’s advocate, or give him well-meaning pity. 

Nagito was sitting between Sonia and Komaru, and by the look of it, the two girls were offering words of assurance, even though he surely didn’t ask for it. Toko was curled up silently by Komaru, and Gundham sat tall next to Sonia, occasionally booming about the perseverance of “the White One”.

Was it cruel that Nagito had a support network only now, right before he-

They saw Hajime approach, and Komaru scooted away from Nagito to make room. If Hajime’s mind wasn’t so preoccupied, he’d wonder if she had heard the “news”. Right now, it was hard for him to care.

Nagito perked up and smiled brightly up at Hajime before he took his seat. A lump formed in his throat at the sight.

Hajime couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed as he scooted closer than he would have, leaning into Nagito, needing to feel his reassuring warmth.

There weren’t any snickers from his classmates this time. Only unspoken waves of sympathy.

Nagito turned pink, shyly taking Hajime’s hand and squeezing it, filled with happiness at the gesture and nothing else.

Hajime wished Nagito cared about himself. Why couldn’t he have any shred of selfish worry?

For better or for worse, it was then that the TV finally flicked on. 

The group hushed, waiting with bated breath. For a moment, Hajime wondered if it was a mistake as the screen faded back to black. It was dumb to hope that Danganronpa had been pushed off air, but before Hajime had the chance to scold himself for wishing it anyway, the music started.

Hajime wasn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

High-paced action music played over a stylized video; a twisted TV show opening, prerecorded and expertly produced.

Short clips flashed by; too quick to react, but horribly, horribly familiar all the same.

Monokuma laughing. The execution of Leon Kuwata. Nagito- no, Servant - kneeling. The gates of Hope’s Peak Academy. Komaru, trapped in a different hotel room. The 77th class, back when they were actually a class. Five children, presumably the Warriors of Hope. Monokuma slamming the execution button.

The briefest of visual, wordless summaries of the first Danganronpa, ending with a shot of Mukuro Ikusaba, viciously murdered by the twin sister she was manipulated into adoring, and then impersonating.

“This is so messed up, man!” Hiro squeaked. Even Byakuya looked off-put.

The second Danganronpa was next. Their Danganronpa.

Hajime felt sick to his stomach.

Peaceful shots of the beach were brutally interrupted by a scene of Monomi, who Hajime hadn’t thought of in a very long time, getting maimed by Monobeasts. 

Then Chiaki, trying and failing to escape her own execution.

Not the real Chiaki, not the real Chiaki, Hajime chanted in his mind. It did nothing to mute the strangled, whispered cry ripping from his throat, audible only to the person he was clinging to.

Nagito inched closer, but he hardly looked better; face somehow paler, eyes somehow wider.

On Hajime’s other side, Komaru flinched when her and Toko’s battle to take back Towa City was thrust into the spotlight. 

The Future Foundation killing game was given a small bit of attention, with a sweeping view of the ‘players’, and a shot of Makoto in handcuffs as he waited for his punishment for helping the former Remnants of Despair. But what chilled Hajime even further was the juxtaposition of images taken right before the Tragedy. When they were relatively happy. When they thought they weren’t being monitored.

Sonia, Mahiru, and Hiyoko, chatting in a classroom. Chisa Yukizome, vibrant and alive . Nagito, before Hajime had met him, expression sweet and deceptively innocent. Hajime’s own face staring back at him, forehead unscarred from a surgery that had yet to be performed.

The gruesome slideshow ended, and words took its place.

“This story is not over.”

“A new killing game will begin again.”

A glimpse of the new players, and another blackout.

“Was that… a recap…?” Mahiru whispered in the silence.

“H-how did th-they get video of u-us when w-we were students?” Mikan trembled. “Wh-why did they sh-show it?”

“Same with me and Toko,” Komaru added nervously. “We didn’t see any cameras. I think?”

Toko shook her head.

How long had they been filmed? How long had they been watched? How long had they been controlled?

And the actual show began.

Soundless images scrolled across the screen, perhaps footage from a security camera, of various classrooms. So, it would be taking place in a school again, just like the first.

How clever.

It finally stopped when a blonde girl shoved her way out of a locker. Kaede Akamatsu, the Ultimate Pianist, if Hajime remembered correctly. She surveyed the room in shocked panic before the locker next to her expelled someone else. Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective. The second Ultimate Detective, that is.

At the sight of Kaede, he let out a frightened yelp. “Wh-who are you!? Are you with those other guys!?”

Kaede looked taken aback. “What other guys?”

“The people who kidnapped me! Wh-where am I…? What are you gonna do to me!?”

As assurance of her innocence, Kaede recounted the events that had led up to her capture. Or, the events that she thought had led up to her capture. All of this was fabricated, wasn’t it? Hajime doubted they’d believe that they had given themselves up willingly, under the influence of despair. 

The backstory Kaede had been fed was vague: she was walking to school, before she was forcefully stuffed into a car and knocked unconscious. But that wasn’t what concerned Hajime.

“Why me? My family’s not rich, and I’m no one special. I’m just a normal high school girl,” Kaede muttered thoughtfully.

“Me either… I’m just a regular guy,” Shuichi agreed.

“Did all of them forget their talents this time?” Imposter wondered. Everyone had lost most of their high school memories in the previous two Danganronpas, but only Hajime and Kyoko had forgotten what made them Ultimates. Perhaps this was just a way to differentiate this game from the others, but Hajime couldn’t help but think that there was more to it than that.

As soon as the two exited the room to explore the area, they were immediately chased around by… robots…?

“Wait, they’re reusing the Monobeasts!?” Hina gasped.

“No. They’re obviously different. They’re more humanlike,” Byakuya dismissed with a slight roll of the eyes. Hina glared.

The whole room perked up when the two assumed-protagonists entered the gymnasium, filled with the fourteen other players.

Including Kokichi and Kiibo.

“Look! Look!” Kazuichi slapped at the annoyed Akane, sitting next to him.

It was useless, but Hajime still tried to spot any sort of recognition, or purpose, or anything but absolute confusion in the two’s eyes.

“Do you want me to check on what’s happening?” Kokichi’s hesitant voice was barely heard over the pandemonium.

Kiibo said nothing and simply looked around frantically, fear evident.

“They could be playing dumb. It would be super stupid to give themselves away,” Hiyoko said.

“Kokichi would be able to pull off a lie like that,” Nagito answered. “But I’m not sure Kiibo would be successful, too.”

A new, high-pitched voice reverberated across the room, one that Hajime had technically not heard before. Though something about the cadence was disturbingly recognizable. “Okay, quiet down, everyone! Shimmy down, shimmy down!”

A female voice responded. “No, no, no. It’s ‘simmer down’.”

One more voice, not familiar, either. But the girl it came from was.

“Huh? Who’s that? Where are they?” Tsumugi fretted.

Like she didn’t fucking know.

Fury clouded Hajime’s mind, before he felt the circulation abruptly cut off in his left hand. Nagito was staring at the screen, unadulterated hatred filling his face.

“I’m here,” Hajime whispered, trying to put his own rage on the backburner. Nagito had been hurt by Tsumugi most of all.

Nagito nodded tensely.

Five of the giant… things that had been pursuing Kaede and Shuichi barged into the gym, forcing the students in a tight circle, talking and threatening and bickering. Definitely not the Monobeasts. “Should we take these for a spin by killin’ one of ‘em!?” One of the robots boomed.

Terrified protests rang from both the simulation and the hotel. 

More threats. More bickers.

“According to the schedule, the exisals aren’t supposed to show up till later!” One of the robots, “exisals” apparently, protested. Another scolded that they were supposed to read the script first.

There it was. Tsumugi’s first mistake.

“HA! Look at that!” Nekomaru bellowed. “She’s got no idea what she’s doing! This is gonna be a piece of CAKE!”

It was certainly too soon for wishful thinking, but Hajime couldn’t help but smirk. If Tsumugi really was upset, she hid it well.

The situation was “remedied” with the grand reveal of the exisal pilots: five more Monokumas. They were smaller and designed differently, and they called themselves the “Monokubs”, but it was hardly a relief. A fake-out.

The revolted expressions of his classmates told Hajime that the feeling was very much mutual.

But according to the bears, the players’ talents weren’t supposed to be forgotten. Tsumugi’s second mistake.

Abruptly, the image was cut off, replaced by static.

It was all a bit anticlimactic.

“Are we sure… that Tsumugi is still a problem?” Sonia asked hesitantly.

“That fool! True evil cannot be replicated; attempting to do so will result in chaos such as this!” Gundham laughed confidently.

“Do you think she’ll stop the game herself?” Ryota ventured.

Kyoko frowned. “This definitely doesn’t bode well for her. But after all she’s gone through to rectify her other setbacks, I doubt she’d stop now.”

As if in agreement, the display flicked back on.

The simulation restarted, almost exactly the same as before: sweeping shots of classrooms, Kaede pushing her way out of the locker, Shuichi soon after. Even their conversation was similar. But now, instead of the dark school uniforms they started out in, their clothing was more tailored to their talents: Kaede adorned in music note accessories, Shuichi dressed in a striped suit, though his hat remained where it was.

As confirmed by the Monokubs, who had appeared soon after, the students’ talents were no longer a mystery, though the events leading up to the restart were.

As the students traveled around the academy, meeting and introducing themselves to each other, Hajime relaxed very marginally with the lull in action.

“So, uh… Are we gonna have to watch this 24/7?” Akane asked, itching at her ear, already bored. 

“It looks a lot like how the Jabberwock game was filmed, so… I don’t think so,” Makoto answered. “We only got to see some of it each day; maybe somewhere between one and three-hour episodes. It’s a simulation; they can pause and fast-forward to make it more like… entertainment, I guess. But you guys said that time moved normally when you were there. It’s probably like that for them, too.”

A few days after the five Jabberwock survivors woke up from the simulation, Makoto had given them a copy of the footage of the game. He hadn’t pressured them to watch it, and Hajime really didn’t want to. But he knew it was necessary. He didn’t deserve the leader role of the group, but he still needed to try to live up to expectations.

While Monomi was still in charge, the video was untouched and uncut, besides the occasional switching of cameras. The theatrics and edits only occurred once Monokuma hijacked the simulation, and like Kaede, Hajime had been chosen as the main focus.

Surely Izuru’s fault. Everything was.

“When it is on, we only need to watch in shifts. Too much of the footage was pointless interpersonal drama,” Byakuya said. “As long as at least one person is watching and taking note of actual important information, we should be fine.”

Hajime was also quite aware of those dramatics. He dreaded to think how many people saw his many meltdowns. Or saw him in a swimsuit. Or saw him be dragged by Kazuichi to ogle other people in swimsuits. Or saw him all but have a brain aneurysm when Nagito asked to be fed while he was tied up on the floor.

Hina thankfully interrupted Hajime’s thought process when she pointed back at the TV. “Look, look! It’s them!” She bounced excitedly. The classroom Kaede and Shuichi entered was occupied by both Kokichi and Kiibo.

They were together. Did they remember? Were they talking about how to-

“Hey! Wait for me!” Kokichi screeched as he chased the other around the room.

“Please stop! Don’t come any closer!” Kiibo demanded, but he looked anything but commanding.

“C’mon! Wait up! I’ve always wanted to be friends with a robot!” Kokichi snickered like a little kid, still grabbing at Kiibo.

“Hey, wait! Make him stop! Kiibo’s delicate!” Kazuichi shrieked, to no avail.

“Wait… you’re a robot!?” Kaede gasped, and the two slowed to a stop. “Are you, for reals, a robot!?”

Kiibo gave a quick bow. “I am K1-B0, the Ultimate Robot! But please, address me as Kiibo.”

“Oh, he is still so polite!” Sonia cooed. “Perhaps he does remem-”

“I may have the appearance of a robot, but I am a high school student, just like you,” Kiibo explained to Kaede and Shuichi, still wide-eyed and impressed. “I was created by Professor Idabashi, the leading authority in the field of robotics-”

“He… He forgot me!?” Kazuichi choked. “Who the hell is Idabashi!? Why is he taking the credit!?”

“Of course he forgot you,” Hajime retorted. “Do you really think Tsumugi would let him remember anything that ties him to us? Professor Idabashi probably isn’t even real.”

Kazuichi sniffled.

“...And now I stand here before you all. See? I’m just like everyone else!” Kiibo finished proudly.

Kokichi blinked. “...Hey, do robots have dicks? Your backstory’s pretty flaccid for a robot,” he giggled.

“What the fuck!?” Kazuichi squawked. “How did Kokichi remember to bully my robot!?”

“I think that’s simply his personality,” Peko replied. 

“He raises a good point, though…” Teruteru mused.

“You can’t be the only one who gets to show off! I’ll introduce myself, too!” Kokichi chirped; a complete mood U-turn. “I’m Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader!”

And Hajime would bet anything that the false talent went right to his head.

Kaede leaned forward, as if to check if she heard him correctly. “‘Supreme Leader’? What… do you mean?”

Kokichi casually crossed his arms behind his head. “...oh. I’m just the supreme leader of an organization. That’s all.”

Kaede’s mouth fell open.

“I gotta say, it’s pretty impressive,” Kokichi continued cheerfully. “My organization has over 10,000 members!”

“Seriously!?” Kaede gaped. “The supreme leader of an evil, secret organiza-”

“Who knows? I am a liar, after all,” Kokichi grinned.

The groans of twenty-three people echoed throughout the hotel.

Hajime wondered if Tsumugi even bothered to craft a made-up backstory for Kokichi.

Unfortunately, the girl in question was the next to get the protagonist’s attention, though she ignored them at first. They poked at her, completely oblivious to the power she held. Hajime wondered how much she would put up with before she snapped, but she hardly seemed annoyed.

“My name is Tsumugi Shirogane. I’m the Ultimate Cosplayer.” She introduced herself in a soft voice, completely different from the chaotic joy she’d put on when she was “cosplaying” Junko Enoshima. “You might be surprised… I get that a lot, since I’m so plain.”

“I mean, it sorta makes sense. You have this strange, almost sexy aura about you,” Kaede complimented her.

“Kaede, run!” Hiro yelled uselessly at the TV. Hina shushed him.

Tsumugi smiled gently. “I just like making cosplay. I’m fine with others wearing them. But lately, more cosplayers are putting themselves before their characters. I’d rather wear my outfits myself, with love, than give them to people like that,” she explained. To the unknowing ear, she might have simply seemed intense; though that would be expected of the Ultimate Cosplayer. But knowing the real meaning behind the words…

“Love? Is that what she calls it?” Nagito muttered coldly.

Hajime couldn’t help but wonder what Tsumugi really was like. Kokichi had told them that all the volunteering participants, including Tsumugi, had never recovered from despair, and from what little he said about the boy who he cared for (though, he never disclosed who that was), their personalities were completely different when they were under Junko’s influence. Maybe before the Tragedy, Tsumugi really was the shy girl she was pretending to be. Or maybe that, too, was just a clever disguise.

But it was only curiosity. It didn’t matter who she was. Tsumugi had to go.

Once again, the students were herded into the gym, for a message that was a surprise only to them.

“I’ll start us off! Listen up! Here’s what we want you punkasses to do!” the blue cub, Monokid, roared. “My heart’s goin’ one hundred miles per hour! You ready!? It’s a-”

“Killing game,” the robotic one, Monodam, droned.

And the routine Hajime was much too familiar with was repeated. Denial. Fear. Anger.

The appearance of Monokuma, along with the mockery and patronization. The explanation, punctuated with sick glee.

The rebellion.

“No matter what you say, we’ll never participate in a killing game!” Kaede shot back. She was shaking, but her voice held the confidence of a leader. Of a main character. “Whatever you have planned, I’m not gonna let you get away with it!”

That’s what they all said, wasn’t it?

“That kinda defiant spirit is important to the killing game. It’s fun to watch the defiant ones eventually snap, and get their hands dirty! Everyone loves that kinda brutality in a death game! I just get so un bear ably pumped up!” Monokuma giggled. “Plus, as the headmaster, it’s my job to force you to do it!”

His cackles echoed throughout the gymnasium, followed immediately by that of the Monokubs. The same music that had been used for the introduction added a grotesque harmony; a soundtrack to the terrified faces of the newest class, flashing by, one by one. 

Kaede’s was the last, before Monokuma’s final message slithered throughout the building.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, but don’t despair quite yet. Tune in tomorrow to see your favorites in action! Because you never know; it might be your last chance.”

*******************

“We’re going to win,” Hajime declared.

After the broadcast ended, the group found that even with new information, there was still hardly anything they could do. Hajime wanted the confidence from watching Tsumugi crash and burn to last, but the ominous ending of that first episode was effective. If anything, Tsumugi was skilled at replicating the fear and despair all-too apparent in the previous games. Hajime left the watch party with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

But come nighttime, Hajime had convinced himself that they still had an enormous upper hand. The first two games had failed miserably, and Tsumugi had an amateur-disadvantage. Winning wouldn’t be easy, far from it; but it was absolutely doable. 

Though, “convince” might be too strong of a-

Nagito was curled up on the bed, reading some travel guide that had been in the hotel lobby. It fell from his hands when Hajime barged in from the bathroom, hair still dripping from the shower.

“Tsumugi’s worthless at this!” Hajime continued when Nagito didn’t respond, “She’s fucked up how many times now? At least five, right? Big fuck-ups, too! And we’ve got people working inside and outside to stop it. There’s seriously no way she’s got any sort of chance.”

Nagito offered a vague smile and scooted towards the end of the bed, his legs hanging to the floor. “Oh, Hajime. Hopeful as always.”

“Hopeful as always...? Aren’t you ?” Hajime asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmm…” Nagito placed his chin in his palm and reached out to take Hajime’s hand. “I do hope that the fifteen make it out alive.”

Hajime frowned. “That’s weirdly specific.”

Nagito shrugged, pulling him closer. Hajime was still largely bothered, but he relented to the request. Even once their knees touched, Nagito still lightly urged him forward. Hajime was sure the uncharacteristic boldness was some distraction tactic; his cheeks were unbearably hot, stealing all the blood from his brain as he climbed the mattress and into Nagito’s lap. His legs poked awkwardly out onto the bed, and he was afraid his weight would break the boy, but Nagito just leaned his face into Hajime’s chest and sighed happily, his arms looped around the other’s back.

“You’re all about hope. Shouldn’t you have it for yourself, too?” Hajime asked when his voice finally came back.

Nagito paused and leaned away to speak, though his eyes were still trained forward. “‘Wanting’ and ‘hoping’ are different things. I admire hope more than anything, of course. But it doesn’t mean I always have it.” He resumed his position.

Concerned, Hajime placed his hands on Nagito’s waist to push him back, just enough to meet his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Haven’t I told you that before? That you won’t understand me?” Nagito reminded him, looking almost annoyed. He moved Hajime’s arms to hook behind his neck, and, once again, hid his face in Hajime’s shirt.

“But I want to. That’s how this works, right?” Hajime protested and tilted Nagito’s head back up.

Instead of pulling away again, Nagito sat up straighter to kiss him, his hands sliding up Hajime’s shoulders to cup his face.

Ever since Hajime assured him many, many times that Nagito didn’t have to ask for permission for every single kiss, Nagito had taken and ran with it. 

And Hajime was even more sure that Nagito was just trying to shut him up. Even so, Hajime huffed out a surrender and held him closer.

*******************

Makoto was right. Even though almost twenty-four hours had passed since the ending of the last episode, the next picked up as if it had only been seconds. Hajime was on the first rotation of show-watching duty (though, it seemed cruel to call it that), along with Mahiru, Ibuki, and Imposter, making them witness to the killing game announcement fallout. 

“Who’d go along with something like that?!” Kaito Momota growled. “No way I’m gonna play this messed up game!”

“This isn’t about ‘playing’ the game. It’s too dangerous to disobey him now,” Rantaro Amami replied calmly. 

“Forget about him! Just one less dumbass in the world to deal with!” Miu Iruma shot back. 

“ Hey! Quit fighting already!” Kaede shouted.

The players were shocked to silence.

“Ha! Kaede is Ibuki’s favorite character!” Ibuki chuckled behind a mouthful of popcorn.

After convincing the group to stop their arguing, they rallied together behind her to figure a way out. Gonta Gokuhara mentioned a manhole he had spotted while exploring the academy, and the class went off to investigate.

Hajime could see why Tsumugi had chosen her as the protagonist. He felt a pang of embarrassment on how not-leaderly he had acted in their own game.

When the class lowered themselves down the manhole, they found themselves in some industrial hallway. There was one out-of-place, wooden sign pointing down the lone tunnel, labeled “Exit”.

“That’s totally a trap, right?” Mahiru said. “There’s no way it’d be that easy!”

Hajime wholeheartedly agreed, and yet there they marched, with little resistance and hesitance. 

It couldn’t have been deadly; even Tsumugi went along with it. But the robotics and traps and pitfalls and obstacles forced them to retreat, again and again and again. Thank God for the fast-forwarding of the footage; Hajime wasn’t sure he could take hours of watching the group fail over and over, going towards an exit that couldn’t be the solution they wanted it to be. Hajime wanted to yell at the screen for them to just stop. But Kokichi beat him to it.

“You’re free to keep trying on your own, but forcing us to join you is basically torture,” Kokichi stopped Kaede as she tried to persuade them to give it a go just one more time. Exhaustion and frustration laced his voice. “You won’t let us give up, and no matter what you say, you have the moral high ground. When you say we can’t give up, you’re strong-arming us!”

Maybe he was harsh, but he was right; really, all they were doing was draining their morale on a useless task. Most of the others seemed that way, too; even Kiibo, the literal hope-robot.

But Kokichi cut the grateful thought short when he spoke again.

“We shouldn’t have to push ourselves,” he changed his tone in an instant. Manipulative. Sly. Cunning. “Let’s just find another way out, okay?”

“Uh! Uh!” Ibuki called out, panicked. “Ibuki doesn’t like how Kichi is speaking!”

Rantaro caught on, too. “...You’re talking about the killing game, aren’t you?” 

“Ah, so you’re gonna interpret it like that, huh?” Kokichi mused, a terrible glint in his eye.

“I knew it! We should never have sent him!” Mahiru snapped, her chair pushing out as she abruptly stood up.

“It was either him or one of us, Mahiru. You know that,” Hajime replied, but the coldness in his gut wondered if she was right.

“He’s supposed to help us, but he’s making it worse! What if he starts the game?” Mahiru shot back. “What if he was lying about wanting to end it, even before he lost his memories? People don’t need despair to be bad! ”

Hajime had feared that, too. He feared it as soon as Kokichi had offered himself up. But they were in between a rock and a hard place, and he couldn’t bear sacrificing any of his own.

He couldn’t sacrifice Na-

*******************

There was absolutely nothing to do in the hotel.

Logic said that there was really no need to only watch Danganronpa in shifts; after all, what else were they going to do? But Hajime found that he’d much rather pace aimlessly throughout the halls than bear witness to even one more second than necessary to the ordeal. Screens and speakers were mounted everywhere, but for the sake of sanity, all the TV’s were covered with blankets to block the visuals and muffle the sounds. There needed to be some escape, at least. 

Initially, Hajime had sought out Nagito. However, as soon as Nagito was free from his own shift, Sonia, Komaru, and Ibuki had dragged the poor boy into Toko’s room, and judging by the all-too-innocent smile Sonia flashed Hajime, it was quite easy to guess what the topic of discussion was.

Maybe Hajime would ask Nagito later what they had talked about. Or, was that allowed? Surely there wasn’t that much to talk about, they’d just kissed. Or maybe that was a lot to talk about? Sonia and Ibuki were Hajime’s friends first, maybe they wouldn’t judge too much. Or maybe that would make them judge him more? They had practically adopted Nagito as one of their own, they were probably super protective. Dammit, Hajime really needed to know what they were talking about.

But before Hajime could ponder the sanctity of girl talk for much longer, his directionless wandering led him to discover something new. Or, something different.

At the very end of the hallway, the door to the stairwell, which had previously been locked, was open. 

Hajime immediately raced towards it, then stopped. Should he get the others? As arrogant as it sounded, he doubted that having them around would lessen the danger all that much, considering he was the Ultimate… Everything, but it seemed like information too important to keep to himself.

But then again, someone could lock the door again while he was doing just that.

Hajime headed upstairs.

With all the anticipation, the second floor was very much underwhelming. Minus the lobby, kitchen, and numerous TV’s lining the halls, it was practically a replica of what they had already seen. Every room was the same, neat and untouched save for the already-on monitors, ready to be occupied. The stairs to the third floor were still blocked off, and still higher, Hajime could hear the footsteps of the hotel’s other nefarious occupants.

As he glanced automatically out one of the windows, he couldn’t help but marvel at how empty the streets looked. Kyoko had pointed out the day before that while Danganronpa was being broadcasted, the brainwashed crowd had gathered elsewhere to watch the show. Normally, they formed an impenetrable barrier around the hotel, just waiting for a glimpse of their idols trapped inside. 

Hajime tended to keep the curtains closed. 

After deciding that nothing was worth investigating, Hajime descended the stairs to announce the unremarkable news. But Makoto’s frantic shout from the lobby stopped him cold. 

“Guys, check the TV!”

Somebody’s dead. 

Hajime’s first thought. 

Nagito. 

Hajime’s second. 

With all social decency thrown aside, Hajime barged into Toko’s room and slid to the floor where Nagito was sitting. Hajime clutched his shoulders and swept a tuft of white hair off the scar on his forehead. 

“Are you okay?! Is it bad!?” Hajime demanded. He searched Nagito’s eyes for any hint of pain, but all he saw was concern. 

“Hajime, no, listen!” Sonia urged, pointing at the already-uncovered screen that the five had been tensely watching. 

“A time limit is now in effect! If a murder does not occur by nighttime, two days from now... then every student participating in this killing game will die!” Monokuma cackled from the speakers. The students were still reeling from the shock that the bear was (obviously) still alive. “So unless you wanna end up as smears, you might wanna take this game seriously!”

Shit. Shit. 

She wouldn’t. 

Would she?

Hajime raced to the lobby, the others hot on his heels. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Hajime demanded as soon as Makoto was in sight. Byakuya, Hiyoko, and Teruteru were already there for their shift, but the rest of their group was filing in quickly. 

“I-I don’t know! Monokuma just appeared, and…!” Makoto shook his head, eyes wide. “They already had a motive!”

The first-blood perk: the first blackened would get off scot free, no trial necessary. Which would have been very useful for everyone. 

“Tsumugi can’t actually do that, right?” Komaru fretted. “She’d just end the game!”

“Unless that’s what she wants,” Byakuya replied. “With the amount of times she’s already failed, she may want a do-over.”

A do-over that would kill fifteen kids. Fifteen deaths. 

Fifteen shocks. 

Nagito looked worried. Just worried. When Hajime reached to clutch his hand, Nagito gave him a reassuring smile. 

Why wasn’t he scared about-

“Why are you doing this!? How much suffering do you want to put us through?!” Kiibo’s outraged voice broke through the players’ panic. 

If only he knew. 

********************

“Um… Kaede and Shuichi have a plan to catch the mastermind. Miu made motion-activated cameras to take Tsumugi’s picture when she goes to the library to activate the Monokuma machine,” Ryota recounted. Hajime didn’t want to actually watch the ordeal, but he couldn’t stand not knowing what was happening. So, as soon as one shift ended, he jumped to get the report. 

“And after they catch her….?” Hajime prompted. 

“I… don’t know. They didn’t say,” Ryota replied, wrinkling his notes nervously. “But won’t Tsumugi know what they’re doing, anyway? If we can see them, so can she, right?”

Hajime gritted his teeth. “...What else happened?”

“Oh! Right,” Ryota cleared his throat and looked back at his paper. “Kokichi is still… antagonizing everyone, but he hasn’t actually done anything yet. Ryoma offered to be killed so that the blackened can escape and get help, but Rantaro said no, he’d stop the game himself. He didn’t say how.”

That would have been convenient. Extremely convenient, and completely guiltless. Though, Hajime wondered what would happen to a person who was set free from the game early. Would they wake up like normal, or would they be stuck in some kind of limbo? Either way, it was eons better than just waiting for all of them to drop like flies once the time was up. 

“How long till the time limit?” Hajime asked. For the real world, only maybe an hour and a half had gone by, but there was no telling how much the timeline had been screwed with inside the simulation.

Ryota fidgeted. “...three hours.”

Hajime peeked inside the lobby, where Sonia, Komaru, Kyoko, and Hiro were watching anxiously. Kaede and Shuichi were onscreen and sitting in the classroom that they had set up shop in, ominous sunset bathing the room in gold. They were talking about… something. Shuichi being unconfident? Hajime felt a bit bad for thinking it, but he really couldn’t care less.

“It’s super messed up, but like… Hiro ventured nervously. “...does anyone else really want someone to kill someone already?”

“You… you can’t just say that!” Komaru protested. “Even if it’s not real, it’s…”

She didn’t disagree, though. No one else did, either. 

And then the music started.

Distorted. Chaotic. Hyper. Mocking. 

Sonia clapped her hands over her ears. “Oh, that is horrid ! What is happening?!”

“Maybe it’s a warning that we need to start killing? The time limit is almost up…” Shuichi said from inside the television, as if to answer.

Piercing. Grating.

The monitors inside the simulation were flashing along with the tune, displaying overly simplified cartoons of murder: drowning, hanging, bludgeoning...

Neon. Blinding. Repeating.

Over and over and over and-

“What the fuck are we doing!?” Hajime snapped. “Why are we just standing here!?”

Something about that goddamn music had taken hold of the panic inside of him, ripping it from its hiding place.

“There’s nothin’ else we can do!” Akane shot back as the rest of the group poured into the lobby, lured to the noise like lambs to the slaughter. 

“The second floor is unlocked!” Hajime had forgotten to tell them; it seemed insignificant, compared to the announcement of the new motive that occurred soon after. 

There had to be something. There had to.

He pushed through his baffled classmates to march down the hallway, making eye contact with Nagito in the process, who was standing near the back. 

Looking worried. Just worried.

“What was on the second floor?” Nagito asked, wide-eyed. He started to move out of the way, before Hajime grabbed his wrist. “Haj-?”

He didn’t answer. Kept marching.

“What are we doing?” Nagito tried again. He was trotting to keep up, but he seemed almost afraid.

Afraid for the wrong reason.

No answer. Up the stairs.

“Hajime, please tell me-”

Nagito’s wrist was released as Hajime charged down the hall, throwing open doors and tearing the rooms apart to search for something, something, something, and maybe he would be able to focus if that goddamn music could just shut the fuck up.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs as his class pursued him.

“Making a mess isn’t gonna solve anything, dipshit!” Fuyuhiko scolded, trying to yank Hajime away from his feverish pursuit, but he was thrown off.

Thrown off with such a force that he slammed into the wall, against the window. 

And cracked it.

As soon as they had been locked in that first day, Hajime and his classmates had tried everything to break out. The windows on the first floor had taken quite the beating, from fists to chairs to heavy kitchen appliances, but nothing had even left a scratch. Whatever the panes had been replaced with was strong .

But there on the second floor, what Fuyuhiko had been pushed into was pure glass.

As he was about to voice his accidental discovery, Fuyuhiko was manhandled again as Nekomaru dragged him out of the way, before giving the window an almighty punch. The shattering glass was heard even over that terrible music, raining fragments down into the street below.

They were free.

Hajime sprinted towards the empty window frame. He could stop the game. He didn’t know where to go or how to do it, but it needed to happen now, now, now , before the time limit-

“Ah-!”

Nagito choked out a gasp. His knees started to buckle. Imposter caught him before he hit the carpet, but Nagito was clutching at his own head, groaning in pain and shock.

No.

NO.

“ Nagito!” Hajime screamed, grabbing the whimpering boy from Imposter.

Hajime thought they had more time-

Hajime pressed Nagito’s head into his shoulder, as if to muffle the pain from inside his head. Behind him, Kyoko raced into one of the rooms to check the TV, but Hajime far from noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, you’re gonna make it, you’re gonna…!” Tears streamed down Hajime’s face. They had an audience. He didn’t care.

The time limit was up. Fifteen people were murdered. 

Nagito was mur...

...No; Nagito was lifting his face from Hajime’s shirt, bewildered and pained but very much alive.

“That shock… was only setting one,” Nagito said in confusion.

Not daring to let go of Nagito, Hajime leaned back to see the screen in the closest bedroom. The music had shut off, and there on the monitor, eight students were standing in a loose circle. And in the center, lying motionless on the ground and doused in blood, was…