Archive of Our Own

It’s not the unraveling he fears. He thinks they’ve all been unraveling for quite some time now. There is anger and there is guilt, as there should be, and the undercurrent is incessant. It plucks and pulls at strings that are far too thin and fragile to be handled and they will snap—all people, Ultimates or not, are puppets to the whims of emotion.

But there’s an awful stagnancy brought by it, the joining of anger and guilt. One is defensive, something dependable and volatile to deflect the introspection brought on by their new reality and all the ugly little truths that have come with it. The other is pensive, seeking to hold these things, grasping at the humility that might bring change, something better, and so these conflicting processes come to a standstill, fettered to a surface where they will wither and die and taint the things meant to grow from them.

Hinata fears this standstill. He fears what might come of it.

He’s been made uncomfortably aware of his own. Kamukura holds Hinata’s guilt and anger in the palm of his hand like a gem, stroking along every facet, dipping into every ridge.

Hinata isn’t yet sure how he feels about this new psyche, this framework that has built itself up upon his own and thinks, feels, lives because of him. 

He does, however, find himself thinking of parasitism. He thinks of hosts who become hollowed out and husked, empty and free to use. He thinks of hosts who die long before it even comes to that, and wonders which he's in danger of becoming this time.

“Where have you gone, Hinata?” Was the first and only thing Komaeda had said to him.

I don’t want to disappear again.

*****

Emotions, Kamukura speaks to himself, are peculiar things.

Hypothesis: Anger and guilt are potent forms of grief. Grief is a benefactor of sanity — without it, there is no antidote for the poisons bled by pain, and so the mind and heart would wither.

Query: Will grief, if left long enough, wither the mind and heart as well?

Will the prolonging of something meant to ease pain result in an outcome that is just as painful?

Kamukura slips into their body when Hinata steals away at night, to a place where dreams don’t welcome him. He can feel the way Hinata strains, thrashing away from images and memories that are both Kamukura’s and his own.

He's felt the emotions Hinata keeps, that he lets rise to the surface when he believes Kamukura isn’t privy. He's witnessed Hinata cling to them like salvations, as if they whisper absolutions that will make everything better.

He goes over these emotions, again and again, with a fine-toothed comb. There is a barrier between them, borne of Hinata’s gentle disdain for him, that prevents Kamukura from speaking to him. So he must get to know him in the ways that he can. He must acquaint himself indirectly with the boy who gave up everything he was to become something he never intended to be.

What is astounding, he says, is the intricacies and complexities that emotions are built upon. Consider all the possibilities, and take into account the reasons and the odds that influence people to react the way that they do. No two people will process something the same. One will laugh where another may cry. If both cry, or laugh, they do so for different reasons, no matter how small. The only consistent thing about emotions is that, for those who have them, they are always there. 

Kamukura feels Hinata. He pulses and bleeds like a wound, all of his sutures ripping apart.

What isn’t astounding, he says, is that those who have the privilege of emotion are so quick to dismiss themselves as simple. To disregard the validity of their composition because they weren’t cast into the mold of a higher, exclusionary society. An individual who has everything can be incapable of feeling anything. There is nothing complex about this.

He thinks of Enoshima. He thinks of himself. 

Query: If life was snuffed out from an individual who lived only for despair, and life was snuffed out from a boy who lived for friendship and grief and hope, would they die the same?

*****

He has stopped looking at himself in the mirror.

The face Hinata Hajime wants to remember was astute and focused and handsome. If his hair was ever long it was only slightly more than usual, because he’d gotten too busy to get it cut. If there were bags beneath his eyes it was only because Hinata was a student and students, as everyone knows, have perpetual bags beneath their eyes.

The reflection tells him he’s somebody else now.

It tells him he is gaunt and hollowed, starved by a desire to be anything other than this. It tells him his skin has taken after the same corpse-pale gray he associates with Nanami, that one of his eyes is the same deep red as the blood that had pooled beneath her body when she told Kamukura she wasn’t ready to die.

It bothers him still, that she had recognized him, Hinata, so easily in Kamukura.

He wonders if his parents would recognize him.

He wonders if his parents are even alive. He tries not to.

Hinata is grateful that Kuzuryuu is the one who comes to see him tonight. He is grateful because Kuzuryuu never double-takes when he sees him and always saunters into the cottage like he owns it, always flicks a lighter and lights cigarettes for the both of them, always reminds Hinata of things he needs to be reminded of in ways that don’t make him feel as if he’s about to die.

“Somebody,” Kuzuryuu says, exhaling a slow breath of smoke, “is gonna blow their fuckin’ top off.”

Neither of them speak of Komaeda. They don’t need to—both know that the other is thinking of flames, manic laughter, a series of lies woven to look like a threat in order to distract them from the reality that truly was.

(Hinata doesn’t believe Kuzuryuu needs to know that when he thinks of Komaeda, he also thinks of silver eyes that sometimes still hold him as if he’s everything, full of a confused and hateful love that conveys a pain begging to smother Hinata down until he’s forced to say he loves Komaeda back.)

*****

The type of anger, Kamukura says, varies from person to person, often in terms of severity and the level at which it is felt, the emotions that drive it (shame, fear, jealousy, hurt?), how it will be expressed, the words they choose and the sounds they make, how badly it will scorch the soul.

Emotions are akin to pestilent disease. The anger of one individual can influence or ignite the anger of another through proximity alone. This is one reason why those that are angry with each other must often spend time away from each other in order to prevent or lessen the spread—an emotional quarantine. This is common knowledge.

The state of one mind influences another. The anger that stems from one individual is strong enough to ignite the flame in another. This is known.

The state of one’s mind influences their heart and soul. It influences that of others. This can be observed and proven. This is fact.

*****

Hinata had said to Kuzuryuu that, maybe if they all got together to talk about things, to smooth things over and understand, it would soothe the anger that settles in their stomachs like a virus.

This morning Kuzuryuu tells him, in a way that is equal parts polite and friendly and biting, that things are going to go to shit.

None of the spite is worn openly, at first. When Hinata looks at his peers, he sees snakes coiled in the shadows. He sees the glint of their fangs when they bare their teeth in the likeness of smiles, hears the bone-rattle warning as they dare each other to speak, wait for a holier-than-thou speech from someone who doesn't have a leg to stand on.

Hinata knows they expect him to ask for forgiveness first.

He can see it in the hardness of their faces, in eyes made blazing and bitter, darkened expectations blaring beneath the restaurant’s bright lights ( “For old times sake,” Komaeda had said, cloyed and sarcastic and snobby so Hinata gnashed his teeth and agreed with a snarl-turned-smile) so he doesn't ask. Let us blame you, they won't say, so he doesn't let them. 

There is a part of him that resents them for this.

And despite it all, he feels for them. He mourns for them. There are tears streaming down Saionji’s face because Tsumiki’s in the room. They turn their noses up and ignore Hanamura’s food in favor of hunger, though Hinata’s quite sure not all of them do it as a means of insult. Tsumiki clutches at her neck and shakes whenever she looks at Mioda, as if to ward off the shadow of her own hands turned noose. He watches them all try to block out the tap tap tap of Enoshima’s long, dead nails on cold wood. He watches them watch him with wide burning eyes that demand him to make it stop stop stop. 

A leader, he knows, is supposed to have a voice. A leader is supposed to look to his subjects or friends or enemies and know what needs to be said, what needs to be done.

(He wishes, for a moment, that the Togami in the room was the real one.)

When he looks to the people he’d like to believe are his friends he feels his voice die in his throat. He feels his resolve flake away like ash.

There is so much pain here.

His gaze locks with Kuzuryuu and he sees they are both thinking the same thing still: Komaeda . Komaeda, who once admired and loved them all more than anything in the world, now regards them with a hatred that is knife sharp and always pressing at their throats even when he isn’t present.

But Komaeda only tap tap taps Enoshima’s nails, head resting in his palm, gazing at Hinata. Always watching. Always waiting.

It isn’t a surprise that the silence is someone’s breaking point. He’s not even sure he’s particularly surprised by who it is.

Owari’s gripping the tablecloth that is the same bone-white as her knuckles. She shakes as if trying to stop a parasite from bursting out from beneath her skin, mouth snarled and ugly and tears brimming. When she stands, she hurls a glass of water at the opposing wall and Hinata watches it burst and shatter, listening to the shards patter like rain as they hit the floor.

“One of you,” she says, “fucked her corpse.”

She sweeps an arm across the table, scattering food and dinnerware to the floor.

“One of you disgusting fucking weasels fucked her corpse!”

A stone is thrown into the emotional stagnancy: the surface where things wither and rot ripples.

Hinata feels the blood drain from his face as he watches them all turn slate pale. Tsumiki twists her fingers in her hair and shrieks and shrieks and shrieks. Nidai shoves away from the table with such a rage that the legs scrape loud and hard against the floor as it’s thrown off-kilter and Saionji’s silent tears become raw and harsh, crescendo to an animalistic wailing that could only belong to a woman who hates herself and everyone else around her and it sets them all off. It's their own deep rooted grief calling out to them, and such an ugly introspective thing must be snuffed out.

So they tear into each other. They try to rip each other’s throat out with words. 

(All he can do is watch and he hates himself for it.)

Yet the noise they make is nothing compared to the steady, unrelenting drum of Enoshima’s long, red, dead nails on the table. Steady through the chaos. Steady because she was chaos.

When he looks at Komaeda, Hinata is certain that he knows.

He is certain Komaeda is doing it on purpose.

Hinata wonders if he is the guiltiest out of all of them. If he should be the one asking for forgiveness, to bear the brunt. He wasn’t brainwashed, after all. He stood at Enoshima’s side as Kamukura and watched the world rip itself apart. He brought her AI into the program.

Is the blood on my hands?

There is such an awful, agonizing ache in his chest.

*****

I am uncertain if I envy or pity them for being slaves to things that—for them—are made up of so many unpredictable and ruthless components.

I am certain, however, that I am beginning to worry greatly for Hinata’s wellbeing. I worry which parts of him might wither.

This is a strange occurrence.

Query: If the pestilence of emotion spreads to one who is supposed to be without, and therefore immune, what does that mean for him? What does it mean for those he might affect in turn?

*****

“It wasn’t very befitting of the Ultimate Hope to allow such a vulgar display of despair, now was it?”

Hinata doesn’t need to look away from the lobby’s window to see who it is. Komaeda is so very good at keeping his voice balanced on the crisp edge of ice.

“I don’t want to do this with you today, Komaeda.”

If there’s one thing Hinata can be grateful for, it’s the way Kamukura’s inability to feel blunts the edge of Hinata’s own emotions. He still feels, and quite strongly at that, but he is able to keep his head in his own harmful, backwards way. A way the others clearly can’t. 

Ah, but Komaeda. He knows how to slink his way around all sorts of things, doesn’t he. He always knows where to press and pry. He does what he can to hook his fingers into hearts and squeeze until they beat too fast and bleed too hard.

"Oh, of course not! After all, what could a Reserve Course student turned god possibly want with somebody like me, right?"

Hinata turns and Komaeda’s eyes are edged steel, his smile made of something even sharper. It’s not a look that’s easy to get used to. It makes him look too savvy, too sleek, like he can slip into any dark nook of conscience he wants and unearth all the unwanted, dirty things that are best kept hidden away.

“You know that’s not it.” Hinata finds his voice is always too quiet, now.

Lately, he finds it hard to find his voice at all.

“Mmm, do I?” Komaeda is very confident with the steps he takes towards Hinata, Enoshima’s nails dragging along the pristine hotel windows. Hinata does not step back. “You’re just too good for everything now, isn’t that right? Too good for them, too good for me, too good to even try to get your hands dirty for the right reasons this time.”

He realizes he hates it when Komaeda looks at him like that, full of snide displeasure. He wants to pluck out Komaeda’s eyes and plant daisies in his sockets so he can only ever look at Hinata in ways that are petal soft, with irises as warm and bright as the center of the sun.

(He realizes, too, that he wants to pull Komaeda apart. He wants to strap him down to the cold operating table and stick pins and scalpels in his skin, pry him open, peel back his scalp, carve at his skull. He wants to whittle at his brain until there’s nothing left but a perfect, terrible stranger. He wants to teach Komaeda what it means to be unmade.)

Hinata grits his teeth and narrows his eyes. “Can you just—” but can he what, exactly? Can he not feel? Can he not handle this in his own way? Can he behave in a way that benefits Hinata? Can he be less inconvenient?

It’s all so harsh and it’s all so ugly and it’s 

all my fault I did this it’s all my fault

unfair for them all, and he knows that. He thinks maybe he knows it better than any of them, but he tells himself that’s a selfish thought clawing for pity, so he pushes his own feelings down and away, takes a deep breath.

Komaeda waits in silence, and Hinata notices that he doesn’t look so smug anymore.

He almost looks nervous.

‘Do you miss me, Komaeda?’ He’d like to ask.

Hinata turns on his heel instead, shoves out the front door and leaves them both with silence, the kind that says so much because of all the things that have been left unsaid. 

Looking back only makes things worse. 

So he doesn’t.

*****

I have come to the conclusion that Hinata’s grief is rooted primarily in guilt. He does not meet the eyes nor the words of his peers with his anger.

Query: If I cradle my guilt in the palm of my hand and look to it as if it were a mirror, in what ways would it distort my image? Would the deceptions whispered by grief warp the perception I have of myself?

Query: If I cradle the guilt of peers and friends who met both death and rebirth in grief and look to it as if it were a mirror, search it for answers like a lost man searches the depths of his soul, what would that do to me?

Hypothesis: I would fall apart.

*****

“Diazepam and fluoxetine, marketed respectively as Valium and Prozac, are medications used to produce calming effects and aid with the reuptake of serotonin.”

Tsumiki’s office is makeshift, at the very back of Rocketpunch Market. It’s hidden behind folding screens that are commonplace in hospitals to give the semblance of privacy. She speaks softly, the stutter she had when he’d met her in the program almost nonexistent.

“I hope you don’t feel I’m singling you out, Hinata.” She turns from the cabinet, something rattling in the paper medicine cup she has in her hand, her smile warm and fragile. “I actually slipped notes under everyone’s doors, but… only you, Nidai, Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama have come to see me.”

Hinata’s note was simple, signed by Tsumiki Mikan, asking him to please come see her to discuss matters pertaining to emotional, physical, and mental wellbeing.

He’d gotten that note a week ago. He’d been too nervous to come. Now that he has, he feels selfish, insensitive for letting her listen to and deal with his problems despite her being the one to reach out to him.

“It’s the lowest dosage,” she continues, sitting down and sliding the cup over to him. “Your body needs to get used to it and I need to monitor how it affects you—you have to be so careful with medications, especially when prescribing two at once.”

Hinata stares into the cup. Two pills. One round and blue. The other, a capsule, teal and white.

“Ah—!” Tsumiki startles suddenly, hand pressed to her chest. “Don’t feel that you have to take these, of course! It’s just an option. We can find other ways to help you cope if you’re uncomfortable taking medication.”

He feels bad for going so quiet. But he looks at her and sees that there is still a slight tremor in her hands, how the corners of her mouth shudder and flicker like her smile is about to die, as if she’s unsure if it’s okay for her to be happy, if it’s okay for her to pretend to be, and he is certain what he feels in his chest is heartbreak.

“What about you, Mikan?” He says softly.

There it is. The freeze, the falter. “I’m… I’m not quite sure what you mean?”

“How are you going to cope? Who’s going to take care of you?”

Tsumiki stays in her wide-eyed, faltering-smile stasis for a minute. But then it evaporates, and her smile comes back genuine and warm and happy, eyes squinting shut.

“This is how I cope! I may not be the Ultimate Nurse now, compared to you—” Hinata winces back an apology, “—but I have a lot of experience in this field regardless, and it makes me happy to know I can help somehow.” Tsumiki reaches over to grasp his hand. “There’s a lot I want to make up for. There are things I want to make right, and I have the capability to do so. There's more to nursing than medicine and injections and bandages. I did a lot of psychiatric work too. I want you all to be okay—I want to help you all become okay, and if you guys will let me do that, that gives me a way to cope. That gives me something to heal with.”

It’s so brief and it’s so sudden, but Hinata feels hope again. Just for a moment, but he is so grateful, and he grasps her hand back tightly.

“I’ll try the pills,” he says, tilting the cup towards him.

“Okay! Okay,” she says. “You’ll have to take them here and you have to show me that you’ve swallowed—I will not risk anyone saving them up to overdose. You must come see me here every day to get them and keep me updated. I will be taking all medications back to my cottage at the end of the day to make sure nobody gets hurt.”

So Hinata nods and does as she says: he takes the pills dry, opens his mouth to let her check, lets her fuss over him for a few extra minutes.

She sees him to the door after. “Naegi and Kirigiri are providing me with all the necessary means to help everybody. If there is anything you think you may need, please come discuss it with me so I can speak to them about it.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mikan.”

“Mhm!”

He is halfway out the door when she speaks again.

“And… Hajime?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she says, “for worrying about me.”

*****

Kamukura does not want Hinata to fall apart. He knows it is only a matter of time. 

However, he’s uncertain how to go about preventing it. He paces throughout the cottage, stippled by moonlight, frustrated that his ability to analyze and comprehend emotion does little to stop him from being hindered by the lack of his own.

As expected, I have answered one of my own queries. He settles at the countertop, drumming his fingers against it, gazing out to the ocean where the waves crest and lapse against the shore in a very predictable, rhythmic pattern. I see that grief, if left long enough, will indeed begin to eat away at one’s mind and heart—the antidote becomes the poison. Poetic in the cruelest way. The Tsumiki girl sees it happening too, in all of them.

He won’t speak to her about it, of course. He is too proud. To debase himself by relying on another for help is simply out of the question.

Hinata would know, too. What one does and experiences while the other is inactive or idle will be made known to the other once in control. Their private thoughts and musings, however, are not. Those are things that must be shared willingly.

There is also the matter of the barrier between them. Kamukura can feel it whenever he attempts to reach out to Hinata, as if there’s something membranous stretching between both psyches that prevents him from getting through. Kamukura could break through it if he chose to, but it isn’t as if he has even an uneasy trust built with Hinata. There is no trust at all. To breach what little boundaries Hinata has given himself would set Kamukura back even further.

That won’t do. He needs a better way. A softer way.

Hypothesis: The existence of a grief that eventually serves to wither the mind and heart implies the existence of a grief that serves to revive the mind and heart.

Query: What causes one grief to take root over the other? If the malevolent form of grief stems from anger and guilt, what does the benevolent form stem from?

How would one get it to take root in someone else?

*****

The visits with Tsumiki put a pause on things, but in the after, the world is still gray.

It's frustrating because he knows it isn't. It’s not like he can’t see the color and the life in the world around him, feel the way it beckons him but he can’t make himself a part of it because there’s this filter over everything that nets him in and tells him he doesn’t deserve it, tells him he has done too many things to be worthy of the privilege of redemption and joy. It’s a forlorn dividing line that taints the beauty and potential of everything to make it limp and lifeless and Hinata is conforming to it.

He’s been thinking of things he shouldn’t.

There are moments before every check up, he thinks of ways to hide the pills from Tsumiki to do the very thing she wants to prevent, to commit an act she desperately wants them to turn away from, to not even consider.

(He never goes through with it. He doesn’t even know if he could overdose and besides, she’s trying so hard and it would crush her. It would crush her to know he tried to take his life away using the very thing she was trying to help him with.)

He doesn’t look at the ocean and see something fun or comforting or beautiful anymore. He sees an escape, thinks about throwing his body into the deep blue nothing and sinking, feeling the brine scrape and burn at his throat, his lungs fill and burst, his heart stop beating.

When the light winks from the chrome of the sink, he thinks of razor blades and steel edges, of bathtubs red to the rim.

And it scares him. It really, really does because 

I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I can’t see the way out how do I make it better

he’s felt this way before but it was a different kind of bleakness then, caused by being too small, too irrelevant, too nothing. What he feels now burns differently because he is too big, too relevant, too something.

There is a person who might understand, but Hinata is wary of talking to him, of letting him in completely. Knowing they share a body, that he can use Hinata’s body when he’s in the depths of unconsciousness, is already too much. The fact that Hinata can feel him right now is too much. They are so much closer than Hinata would like them to be.

Still, that isn’t to say there aren’t people who do try to understand and help. There's a furious knocking on his door that draws Hinata out of his stupor and he isn’t at all surprised to see who it is.

“Come on, bastard.” Kuzuryuu grabs his wrist and pulls him out from the cottage so fast Hinata doesn’t even have time to shut the door. “We’re going for a walk.”

After Hinata had failed to emerge from his cottage for three days straight—forcing a fretting Tsumiki to come to him—Kuzuryuu made the unilateral decision that the two of them would be going for walks each day, at any time and as many times as he deemed necessary.

They always spend the first bit in silence, and Hinata appreciates that. It gives him time to collect himself, to remind himself that they’re all still here, that he’s still here, regardless of what’s going on. 

“My biggest worry at the moment,” Kuzuryuu says, hands deep in his pockets, “is that one of these days I’m going to knock on that door and you’re not going to answer because you’re fuckin’ dead.”

Hinata doesn’t answer, not right away. He’s not entirely sure how. How can he console others when he’s incapable of consoling himself?

So he settles for honesty. “I worry about that too, Fuyuhiko.”

Silence again. It’s not uncomfortable or strained, but it is heavy. There’s a lot for the both of them to think about.

“I’m not going to let that happen, you know.” Kuzuryuu stops in his tracks. “I’ll sleep on the damn floor at your place if it means I’m there to stop you from doing something stupid.”

Hinata stops too and turns to face him. “There’s no way I’d let you inconvenience yourself like that.”

“Like I give a damn if—inconvenience, sweet Christ, you sound like the old Komaeda. You’re not a fuckin’ inconvenience, Hajime. You’re my friend, you’re everybody’s friend, and we’re going to get through this. We’re going to get through this together.”

And Hinata has to look down at his hands, his feet, the dirt. He has to because he can feel the burn, the sting, the tears welling and if he looks at Kuzuryuu he’s going to lose it and he can’t. Hinata’s the one who should be helping them, not the other way around. He’s the one with all the talent and ability now, isn’t he, he’s the one who got everything he fucking wanted—

“Do you remember,” Kuzuryuu’s voice is suddenly very, very gentle, “the third island?”

Kuzuryuu's soft hand on Hinata’s elbow gently propels him forward and they’re walking again. He closes his eyes, breathes, steadies himself. “Of course I do.”

“You and I were in that together, Hajime. We worked together, we worried together. This is like that, but this time nobody has to get hurt. Nobody has to die.”

The sun is setting. The sky is pink and peach and violet, made of melding beauty that takes Hinata’s breath away. It reminds him what it means to live, what it would mean not to live.

It’s brief and it’s not going to fix him, but it is a place to start.

“How are you even handling all of this?”

“Oh, I’ve had my moments, trust me.” Kuzuryuu’s smirking and Hinata envies him for it. “But I’m very fortunate to have Peko. We did everything together, even the… things before the Neo World Program. We were partners in crime, unfortunately, but it helps to have someone to share the pain with.”

There’s truth in that, and so Kuzuryuu does spend the night in Hinata’s cottage. Not on the floor—Hinata sets up a bed on the couch for him but Kuzuryuu perches at the edge of Hinata’s bed until he falls asleep, knowing when to fill the silences and when to let them keep. He understands things like guilt and wrongdoings and regrets , turns them into concepts that are acceptable, things that might be fixable. 

For once, there are no nightmares.

*****

Following my new observations and the reanalysis of both my previous observations and Hinata’s emotions before, during, and following his interactions with Tsumiki and Kuzuryuu, I have reached the following conclusions.

One: Grief, on its own, is unable to become malevolent. It is dependent on the emotions that accompany it – in this particular case, I am once again referring to anger and guilt.

Two: Guilt is not necessarily malevolent. It is rehabilitative in nature — it is not meant to destroy. Similar to grief, it depends on the emotion or emotions it is paired with. I have seen the effect of anger on guilt, the standstill it has caused and subsequently, the outbursts and fallout that have resulted from it.

Three: Guilt, when paired with love, such as the type Hinata feels when with Tsumiki or Kuzuryuu, is what provides the opportunity for catharsis and healing. 

It is the combination of these two things that will allow the benevolent form of grief to take root within Hinata and subsequently, allow for a healthy healing process.

I fully intend to help him through this.

Query: What, or who else, does Hinata Hajime love dearly and is also associated with guilt?

Nanami Chiaki. 

...

Komaeda Nagito.

*****

After the Funhouse, it isn’t uncommon for Komaeda to sling underhanded insults or backhanded compliments at Hinata to reprimand him for things he couldn’t control and things he could’ve if he’d only had the hindsight he does now.

But sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes, he puts himself in Hinata’s presence just to sit there and stare and treat him to silence and it makes Hinata angry and ashamed in the saddest ways, because there was a time when

we were friends and I trusted you and you trusted me and even after everything, even after you found out you said I didn’t matter but you still cared about me but you hardly acted like it and now you don’t at all, why won’t you talk to me, why won’t you tell me, why won’t you care about me why won’t you 

Komaeda always talked even when Hinata was wary or dismissive, always talked and always smiled, always said Hinata-kun or Hajime even when Hinata flinched away with teeth bared and all sorts of dark things in his eyes. Hinata never really learned how to deal with that, how he’s supposed to deal with this, if he has it in him to learn.

 (Is this the bitterness of tasting his own medicine? Is this the reality check he never asked for? Is this because he pretends he doesn’t understand what Komaeda was really saying to him in the hospital, when illness forced him to speak with a forked tongue?)

In this silence, Komaeda is close to and mimics him. They sit at the edge of the hotel’s rooftop, ankles crossed, looking out over everything and seeing nothing. They could almost be mistaken for friends. Hinata still wants to believe they are.

“Is this how you felt?” He tries. “Back when you… found out about everything.”

There is a very long, intentional pause before Komaeda answers. “No. I was much angrier than any of you are now. It’s almost disappointing.”

Hinata bristles. He can’t help it. Komaeda’s always so clipped with him now, always so condescending and annoyed and it hurts. Not once has he tried to make peace with any of the others, not once has he tried to communicate in a way that wasn’t to offend or off-put, not once has he tried to understand how any of them feel.

“Do you have to be such a jackass about everything? You’re just as guilty as the rest of us.”

Komaeda chuckles low and smooth, leaning back on his palms as he turns his head to look at Hinata, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he smirks. He is so infuriatingly, wretchedly pretty. 

“I never said I wasn’t, Hinata. Just because I’m being a jackass, as you so eloquently chose to put it, doesn’t mean I think myself exempt. I acknowledge what I am—I just happen to acknowledge what the rest of you are, too.”

“But you could at least try—”

“Try what, Hinata? Be more like who?” Komaeda snaps, drawing himself upright. It makes Hinata flinch. “Tsumiki? Nidai? Kuzuryuu? You? Put up a front all you want—none of you were doing anything before Owari lost her mind and I saw how eager everyone was to rip into each other, just waiting for the chance to deflect. You’re only playing the good samaritan because nobody else will do it for you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Komaeda? Are you for fucking real?” Hinata draws himself up from the ledge to stand and Komaeda follows. “Don’t you understand how hard this is for everybody? We’re still human. We can’t just ignore all the shit that’s been thrown at us. Why is that concept so hard for you to grasp? Why is it okay for you to be vindictive and angry?”

Hinata feels like he's been dragged through hot coals. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t how he wants things to be.

“ I’m the only one who hasn’t put up any fronts. Not like the rest of you. I’ve never hidden who I am, I’ve never pretended to be something I’m—”

“—that’s rich, Komaeda. Wanna talk about that first showstopper you pulled out for us? Nice, sweet, trustworthy Komaeda was actually planning for one of us to kill another from the start—”

“—I was the one who was supposed to die. Hanamura was supposed to kill me. How have you not figured that out yet? From that point on, I’ve always been honest about my beliefs.”

There’s an awful twinge in his chest, then. He can feel the mosaic of his heart shattering beneath his breast, and when he speaks again, the strength of his voice breaks alongside his heart. 

Komaeda’s beliefs.

Hinata hates that that reminder was all it took.

“So it’s true? What you said back then? You really do hate Reserve Course students?”

Is it true that you really hate me?

It’s hardly even relevant to the argument. It’s a stupid question. A hurtful question. A selfish question.

Komaeda gets that look in his eyes again, like he wants Hinata and hates that he wants him, so now he’s going to take it out on him.

Komaeda steps forward until they’re barely a hair’s breadth apart and raises Enoshima’s taloned hand to press it against Hinata's cheek, to make him feel the malice festering on her dead skin. Hinata tries not to react because he knows this is a slight, but his eyes burn and the world softens and blurs. Komaeda is upset with him, so he will push and press and jab all the buttons he can. Whether Hinata allows it or reacts to it is irrelevant, because Komaeda will do it regardless if the reaction he provokes is the one he wants. He will keep going until he is satisfied.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he can sound so gentle while he tears Hinata apart like this. “From what I understand, all you’ve been good for is moping around and making people worry needlessly, so they have to come rescue you. You don’t even bother using any of your artificial potential. Still a Reserve Course student at heart, even after all this. All that false talent wasted by your complete inability to use it.”

“In other words, you'd come to hate me either way. Reserve Course, Hope’s Peak project, it doesn’t matter.” There’s no more bite to his voice and there could be, there should be, but he’s tired, he’s so tired . All he has left are tears and a voice that’s too soft. “I don’t understand you, Komaeda.”

Something weakens in Komaeda, right then. There’s a chink in there somewhere. 

“You used to try so hard to.”

It’s Komaeda’s turn to walk away without looking back. Hinata thinks this silence hurts more. This time, too much has been said.

They have fallen so far apart.

*****

Even after all the time that has passed, Kamukura still remembers the suit he’d been wearing the day Nanami died.

There are no bloodstains or gore, no visceral connections like that. He remembers each loose thread, each crease, how the lapels hadn’t sat the way he wanted them to. There are many identical suits in Hinata’s—their—closet, but Kamukura remembers everything about anything. He is a stickler for details, because that is how he was made to be.

Her hairpin is still there in the pocket.

Even back then, when he hadn’t understood his connection to her, why the sight of her torn and bloody on the floor had evoked such a painful reaction, he had kept it pristine and safe. Always kept it with him for reasons even he couldn’t discern.

It seems Hinata had always been there, even though neither of them had known it.

It’s all been very interesting, to say the least. Now that Hinata and Kamukura are together in one body, he’s been able to experience everything Hinata feels secondhand. Kamukura even thinks he’s been developing emotions of his own. He would’ve been indifferent to all of this before.

Why else would I be doing this, if something in me hadn’t changed?

He knows Nanami’s hairpin will give rise to memories and emotions that are unpleasant for Hinata, but Kamukura isn’t doing it to be cruel—in addition to the reaction he believes it will provoke, it's to serve as an icebreaker as well, for lack of a better word. He wishes he had one that was kinder, but this is all he has to let Hinata know that there is something he understands, something that connects them.

He doesn't feel the need to hypothesize or query about the outcome. He would feel… inconsiderate, were he to treat this like one of his projects.

Normally, Kamukura is active during the night and only takes a few hours to rest before rising with Hinata. He wants to witness everything Hinata feels and says and does, to take in as much as he can to store for data and revisit when the opportunities present themselves.

Tonight, he doesn't sleep at all.

Throughout the night and into daybreak, he lies in bed and stares at Nanami’s pin on the nightstand, waiting for Hinata to wake. He relinquished control over their body immediately after going to retrieve it. He wants Hinata to feel as comfortable as possible. He doesn’t want to be intrusive.

Of course, it starts as he expected. Emotionless or not, he is still the Ultimate Analyst, and he can predict the outcome even for things he doesn’t entirely understand in full.

Hinata pauses when he sees it, then reaches out to grasp it. He doesn’t sob. His shoulders shake and his tears flow freely as he clutches Nanami’s hairpin, but not once does he make a sound. Kamukura feels the emotions flow through both of them; grief, guilt, but most importantly, love.

The barrier that had been between them for so long suddenly isn’t.

‘I forgot you had this,’ Hinata says. ‘I forgot there was still a piece of her left. I feel terrible.’

‘You shouldn’t.’ Kamukura makes sure to keep his voice soft. ‘There is much you’ve had to deal with. It is normal to forget even the important things.’

‘I feel like she would be so disappointed in us all. In me. I promised her we would take care of each other, that we would work together to pull through this. Look what I’ve let it come to.’

And then everything torrents from Hinata, every thought, every feeling, everything he’s been through; he tells Kamukura about the program, the trials, Monokuma, Enoshima, things Kamukura knew about already through their shared memory but never experienced. Hinata tells him about Owari’s outburst, his conversations with Tsumiki and Kuzuryuu, his argument with Komaeda even though Kamukura was present through all of these things and felt what Hinata felt. He expresses his anger towards Kamukura, every last bit that has simmered in his bones and blood and breath and Kamukura listens to it all. He is more than happy to, because Hinata needs this desperately, because Hinata is finally letting himself talk and that is enough.

There comes a lull, but Kamukura waits. 

‘I just—I don't understand any of it,’ Hinata says, once the moment has passed. ‘They—we—were meant to oppose despair. We were never supposed to fall into it. None of us were ever made for it.’

'Ah,' Kamukura answers. 'Not quite—we were remade for it. A person with the right amount of charm, wit and intelligence can bend even the strongest to their will. None fall harder than those with everything to lose, my dear. She needed all types of pain to break the world.'

Kamukura pauses.

‘You will need all types of hope to piece it back together.’

The truism almost makes him wince, but he isn’t wrong.

‘That’s the thing, Kamukura. I don’t know if I can. So much has gone wrong, everybody’s hurting, and I can’t help but think I could have prevented this from happening if I just—if I had just—’

‘You’ve placed so much of the blame on yourself, Hinata. You aren’t Enoshima. You aren’t even me. You’re all victims in this, though I know it may not always seem like it.’

Sharing Hinata’s body is different now, without the barrier. Kamukura can touch Hinata, in a way, reach out with his presence to touch Hinata’s, and so he does. If Kamukura were a separate entity, it would’ve been like resting his hands on Hinata’s shoulders to comfort him.

He doesn’t shy away.

‘Maybe, but I still feel responsible. I did… become you, didn’t I?’

‘It has always been your body, yes, but I was the one wearing your skin during the Tragedy. The actions taken during that time were mine, not yours.’

Hinata is silent.

‘You cannot fault yourself for the duplicity of others,’ Kamukura says. ‘You made a decision, yes, but you couldn’t have known the true intent of those you chose to believe. You had no ill intent. I have made decisions that have affected not only you and your friends, but the world as well. I allowed myself to indulge Enoshima’s manipulation, and I believe that made me the most lucid out of any of you. I was an observer to atrocities I could have stopped and I chose instead to stand by while they happened. I want to atone for these decisions. I want to help you get through this. Let me help make this better.’

Their body shifts as Hinata pulls himself out of bed and into the bathroom, flicking on the light. He places his hands on the sink, leans forward, and drags his gaze up.

It has been a very long time since Hinata has looked into a mirror.

‘Everything and everybody’s so fucked and broken.’

‘And that can be fixed with effort and time.’ The smile can be heard in Kamukura’s voice. ‘You have to put back every piece, that’s all. We will do it together.’

*****

Often, Hinata is the one in control. Kamukura’s talent influences him naturally, but he still has to put things into practice in order to truly understand and execute his newfound talents in ways that are personal to him. They both agree it would be too jarring for most of Hinata’s classmates to interact with Kamukura directly, but he is always a whisper within Hinata’s ear, helping him with whatever he may need.

It’s a strange thing to get used to, at first. Unless Kamukura decides to rest, it feels like he’s next to Hinata at all times, a presence lingering at his shoulder, observing and offering guidance. Hinata finds he never feels alone.

Over the course of time, he adjusts, and it becomes a very comforting aspect of their new relationship. When Hinata becomes unbalanced, Kamukura helps him restabilize. When he unravels, Kamukura is there to lace him back together.

He brings it up to Kuzuryuu during one of their walks, and he isn’t met with judgement or fear or resentment. 

Kuzuryuu is relieved.

"What I hoped for, hand to God, was for you to be like this. Kamukura or not.’” Kuzuryuu says. “I was scared shitless, Hinata. I thought we were gonna lose you. He’s fuckin’ welcome if he’s gonna help us sort this mess out.”

Tsumiki is the next one he tells about it, and a part of him expects her to panic, but she doesn't. In fact, when Hinata comes to her to tell her what’s going on and how it’s helped him, it makes her so happy she starts to cry. 

Throughout it all, she has been doing everything she can to help not only him, but everyone else as well, and he wants to help too. He feels ready to help, now.

“It’s a recent thing,” she’s saying to him, a few days later. She holds a thermos of hot tea in her hands. It's early morning and the air is crisp as they walk to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast. “Originally it was just Owari and I. She wasn’t eating for a very long time, and when she started again, she was only comfortable if someone was eating with her. These little support group meetings during mealtimes were actually her idea!” 

The two of them arrive earlier than everyone else—Tsumiki says she likes to get there before everyone so she can help people settle in and feel comfortable when they arrive.

Well, there is one other person there. It’s one of the last people Hinata would have expected.

"Hinata?" Hanamura pokes his head out from the kitchen when he hears them come in. "It's been… I'm very happy to see you here."

"You too, Hanamura. It's been a while." Hinata smiles and tries not to think about how the last time he really talked to Hanamura, it was to convict him of murder. "Are you part of these sessions too?"

"In a way." His voice is still smooth, but there's a noticeable lack of leer in it. "Darling Tsumiki came to me one morning and told me she was in need of my assistance—food for her and Owari! Of course, I think a part of her just wanted an excuse to spend time with me.” Hanamura chuckles. “Then more people started joining them and suddenly, I had even more reason to cook and more importantly, people to cook for.”

‘Ah, a soft-hearted pervert,’ Kamukura says. ‘A lesser of the many evils, certainly, but an evil nonetheless.’

Hinata stifles his grin with a yawn. “Do you need help?”

“Oh, no no no, cher!” Hanamura waves his hand and waddles back into the kitchen. “You rest easy. I don’t mind getting down and dirty!”

Hinata joins Tsumiki at the table and they talk about this and that until people start to arrive. The turnout is more than he expected. Owari, of course, and after her comes Nidai, Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama, Mioda, Koizumi, Tanaka.

A part of Hinata was nervous how they’d react to him (save for Kuzuryuu, who is so happy to see Hinata there he yells). But they greet him kindly and with smiles. This time, it isn’t a facade. There are no fangs to be bared.

“I’m tryna learn how to control my emotions better,” Owari says to him, just before breakfast is served. “I keep thinkin’ back, y’know, to that day. I keep thinkin’ bout what I coulda said or done differently.”

That’s how they all talk to each other throughout, bouncing off each other in quick bursts, about things they hope to learn or change, things they want to work towards for the future. Tanaka claims he comes only to “ see how the feeble mortals drag themselves back from the brink of destruction,” but Hinata’s not an idiot. He sees how Tanaka perks up when someone talks, how quick he is to respond to everyone.

The meetings are daily and Hinata attends each one. Sometimes there are multiple, at different mealtimes, and sometimes there’s only one. It depends how things go in the morning. Not everything goes accordingly; they’re still sifting through everything. Sometimes people get angry or hurt or scared, and they’d rather deal with it in their own way. Hinata has his off days, too. They’re all relearning themselves in addition to each other, and that’s okay. Hinata’s just happy that they’re starting to come together again.

But for the most part, things go great, and he hears even greater things. Things like Ibuki could never stay mad at Tsumiki-chan and It’s the manager’s job to help put the team back together and I miss taking photos of you all, I want to see you guys smile again , and Hinata realizes that even in the worst of it, they all still loved each other even if they couldn’t show it. That going forward, they will continue to love each other, even if things aren’t perfect.

It’s only a few days later that Tsumiki pulls him aside after an evening meeting to ask for help.

“I feel a bit rude about this,” she says, tapping her fingers together, “but there is something I’d like to ask for your—or Kamukura’s—help with. Only if that’s okay, of course!” Her eyes go very wide. “You’ve been doing so good and I don’t want to put any pressure on you, or make you feel like you have to, or—”

“Of course it’s okay, Mikan.” He rests a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

“Well, like I told you, my consultations and treatments have been going fairly well. Even those who don’t come to our meetings open their doors when I visit, or meet with me briefly to talk a bit when I ask to check up on them. Even Saionji talks to me now!” She’s smiling again, but the flicker of uncertainty is back in it. “The only one I’ve been having trouble with is Komaeda.”

Something in his chest tightens.

(During the days, to and from meetings, Komaeda and Hinata often catch sight of each other. They pretend they don't.)

“I’m afraid my skills as a nurse aren’t enough to get him to bring down the walls he’s put up,” Tsumiki continues. “He usually doesn’t talk to me at all and when he does, he says things that aren’t very nice.” She clutches her hands in front of her chest. “But I still care about him, Hajime. I want him to get better with us.”

Hinata doesn’t say it, but he really wants that for Komaeda, too.

“I’ll see what I can do for him. I have a lot of new skills at my disposal, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

‘That was a lie,’ he tells Kamukura immediately upon entering the cottage. ‘The last person Komaeda wants to deal with is me.’

Kamukura only hums. He sounds… amused.

‘Why,’ Hinata says, ‘does it sound like you’re trying not to laugh?’

‘You’re an exceptionally bright and observant boy, Hinata. Unfortunately, only when you want to be.’

Kamukura says it with affection, but Hinata slumps into an armchair to mope anyway. ‘Are you gonna tell me what I’m missing?’

‘I know you can figure this out on your own, but I will give you a hint: Komaeda has already given you the information you need to get him to open up to you.’

‘All Komaeda does is ignore me because he’s angry, or argue with me because he’s angry.’

‘And people say important things when they’re angry, isn’t that right?’

Among many other things, Kamukura reminds Hinata to think.

*****

The day has yet to break but Hinata is already up and dressed and ready, pacing around the cottage incessantly. 

Kamukura knows he intends to speak to Komaeda today and that he is nervous about it. He also knows that Hinata has nothing to be nervous about.

No matter what, it will always be in Kamukura’s nature to analyze and that is exactly what he’s done over the last few days. He is enamoured with the idea of emotion, of feeling anything, and Hinata feels so very much when it comes to Komaeda.

He is able to notice things about Komaeda that Hinata either can’t, or chooses not to. When he revisits the memory of their argument, he sees the way Komaeda’s honed sneer softened and faltered when Hinata snapped back at him, how the animosity was so quick to fade from his eyes when Hinata had cried, the way his shoulders had slumped when he walked away.

Out of curiosity, he probed around Hinata’s memories of the program just to see how it had been between them then, only to be completely stupefied by Komaeda’s openness regarding his feelings toward Hinata, even after finding out about the Reserve Course, and just how oblivious Hinata was to all of it.

(Kamukura finds, even now, that Hinata can be emotionally dense at the best of times. It’s endearing in a way that is also moderately infuriating.)

But Kamukura knows, too, that thoughts of Komaeda or being in the presence of Komaeda has always made Hinata’s heart beat a little faster, always made him feel a little dizzier and Kamukura knows that now, Hinata understands why, but he is too stubborn to fully accept it.

It’s foolish, really. Hinata’s blushing, his palms are slick and he is breathing too fast. It is normal to be nervous about confrontation, but his reasons for being so aren’t simply platonic.

I see. For the first time in a while, Kamukura speaks to himself. I believe I understand.

Hypothesis: The first emotion to wither is love.

The last emotion to wither is love.

This is all very fixable.

‘Are you aware that I find astronomy somewhat intriguing?’

‘Oh, you do?’ Hinata perks up, eager to think of anything other than Komaeda. ‘I know most things bore you, so that’s really interesting!’

‘Well, you and Komaeda are also interesting. You remind me of the sun and moon,’ he says. Hinata flounces onto the bed and sighs, but Kamukura keeps going. ‘You are meant to shine, and he is eclipsed and held tightly by you. You are destined to be the most brilliant thing in his sky. I believe that is something Komaeda did not anticipate. I believe there are many things happening, both with the others and between the two of you, that Komaeda did not anticipate. Not only is he learning how to handle these things, he is learning how to accept them as well.’

For a moment, Hinata is quiet.

‘I forget, sometimes, that he’s just like us. He feels just the same as we do.’

'I do understand where you’re coming from. Komaeda often expresses himself in ways that are far from what is considered the norm. But I believe he is quite broken, Hinata. I believe he is hurting quite a bit.’

Something in Hinata shifts. His apprehension becomes determination.

*****

Since the day Kamukura gave it to him, Hinata always pins Nanami’s hair clip to his shirts. It makes him feel like she’s still with him, that she’s there watching over him even though he can’t see her. It calms him down.

It seems to have a similar effect on Komaeda, too.

“I remember that,” he says when Hinata approaches him. “She wore it every day.”

Hinata tries to smile. “I thought I would, too. To remember her.”

“I know Kamukura gave it to you.” There’s an accusation in Komaeda’s voice. “You wouldn’t have been around when she died.”

Even though Hinata is attempting—and beginning—to understand where Komaeda is coming from with his bitterness, it still hurts. 

But Komaeda’s hurting too, and Hinata wants to be there for him.

“I know, but she still means a lot to me. All of you do.”

Komaeda goes quiet, but it’s a bit different this time. He’s still upset, yes, but the silence is softer. He’s not staring at Hinata like he’s the most upsetting person in the world.

Hinata has been trying very hard to put his analytic and therapeutic skills to use, though he knows it takes more than just understanding and talking about things to make everything better. Hinata himself still has a long way to go, but it helps to have people to heal with . 

“It must be so easy for you, with your built in support system. Kamukura’s there to pick up all your pieces. The rest of us aren’t so fortunate.”

He sounds so, so tired.

“It wasn’t easy, Komaeda. It hasn’t been easy, for me or you or anyone else.” Hinata pauses, and before he can think too hard about it, reaches out to grasp Komaeda’s hand. “But I think that’s even more reason for us to come together. And Komaeda,” Hinata squeezes his hand, “I want to understand you. I want to be there for you. I want you to feel that you can come talk to me.”

Komaeda stills for a very long time, regarding Hinata in a way that makes him nervous, but not for the reasons one might think.

‘He’s dying, isn’t he.’

Kamukura is quiet for a very long time. ‘Komaeda believes he is dying.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I will tell you in good time, my dear. There are many things I need to confirm for myself. But I know, no matter what it is, we will be able to do something about it. For now, just enjoy being with him.’

Eventually, Komaeda laces his fingers with Hinata’s.

“I do… want to talk to you, Hinata. About a lot of things. I just don’t think I know how yet.”

“Then we don’t have to talk, if you’re not ready. We can just be .”

And when Komaeda finally, finally smiles, Hinata catches himself thinking about how pretty he is in the sunlight and moonlight and all the lights that come in between.

“Hinata-kun,” he says, pulling Hinata towards him so he can wrap his arms around him, “I’ve never hated you.”

Hinata’s arms curl around Komaeda’s waist as he tucks his head into the crook of his neck. “... I know.”

A part of him always has.

*****

I had asked myself, in the beginning, if an individual who lived for despair and an individual who lived for friendship and grief and hope would die the same.

I hadn’t bothered to consider how each had lived.

When Souda comes to Hinata to tell him he wants them to repair the ferry terminals together, they work as a team. They rebuild, they put their world back together, bit by bit.

When Enoshima came to Kamukura to tell him she wanted to take over the world, she crafted the illusion of teamwork. They dismantled, they took their world apart, bit by bit.

When Tsumiki comes to Hinata to fall apart, because she has carried the burdens of others but never her own, he holds her. He becomes what she was to him; a guide, a comfort, a presence that is always there. He puts her back together, slow and steady.

When Enoshima came to Kamukura it was never to fall apart, because she was the creator of the burdens they now bear and only ever took pleasure in her own. He never held her. He became what she wanted him to be; a tool, an excuse, a presence always there to be used. She picked him apart, quickly and carelessly.

When Komaeda tells Hinata that he wants to try again and start over, he tilts Hinata’s head until he can lock their lips together, tongue and lips joining as Komaeda kisses him slow and hard. Adoring and tender. Soul crushing. It lasts forever; they have all the time in the world.

When Enoshima told Kamukura they were meant for each other, she’d pushed and pulled him down and grasped at him like a thing, clawing lines into his skin. Possessive and desperate. Soul crushing, for all the wrong reasons. It lasted forever; there is more despair in the loss of time within a world that is dying.

The answers have been there all along.

The question should never have been about death. It should have been about life.

He has one more to ask.

Query: Can an individual who had given himself to despair learn to live a life of friendship and love and hope?

A sleeping Hinata is being cradled by a sleeping Komaeda. Kamukura loves them both more than anything in the world.

He has his answer. 

He can. There is a place in the world for everything.

Even those that have withered can rebloom.