hinata hajime/izuru kamukura dependent to isola Housed in House 101
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seizonka:
There were plenty of instances where Rantaro caught the tail end of conversations between other people – that was bound to happen in a place with a lot of different individuals with varying degrees of knowledge about each other. He didn’t really bat an eye at hearing Hajime talk at first, didn’t even really react until the other person had taken a hold of his shoulder to keep him in place now. Confusion came to mind first – he really had never seen this person before in his life aside from maybe in passing once or twice, but nothing to make any kind of deep impression on him. Once that sheepish expression crossed the other person’s face, the whole of the situation made sense to Rantaro. With a light chuckle, he rubbed the side of his neck in reflected embarrassment; the other was probably already feeling awkward, there wasn’t any need to make it worse.
“Nah, don’t worry about it – plenty of people around here, it’s easy to make a mistake like that.” He reassured the other person, offering up a hand in greeting instead.
“How’s ‘bout this, I’m Rantaro Amami – now we aren’t strangers anymore, right? You mind if I ask you for your name? Oh and, sounds like you were looking for someone? I can help with that too, if you want. Two heads are better than one, yeah?”
“You just have the same kind of look as my not-boyfriend. Like uh, you’ve never brushed your hair in your life, and you got dressed after just rolling out of bed in the dark.”
Hinata was not actually trying to be insulting, he was just extremely blunt as usual. As he stood around Rantaro he could not help but think about Komaeda, they both had the same kind of feel about them, like they were just floating there, detached.
“Oh, sorry I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything by saying you look like the guy I’m not-dating.”
Yes, keep talking. There was nobody better at digging the hole deeper than Hinata Hajime. If only that was a talent he would have made it into hope’s peak. He pulled on his spiky hair, not getting flustered or anything.
“My name’s Hajime Hinata, I’m looking for a boy called Komaeda Nagito. I actually do have two brains, but they’re both pretty useless.”
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sotouso:
“Ouchie, that really stings, you know? Are you always that rude to people you just met?” Kokichi frowned, faking some teary expression. The tears were of course fake, but being called boring or not interesting really was something that did affect the trickster, that always aimed to make things more interesting, the most.
“You’re what now?” That was sure an unexpected answer. Was he also an Ultimate Student? But would that even make any sense? Though, there probably were others around besides the other fifteen he knew. Of course Kokichi didn’t believed him being the Ultimate Clown was a thing, but it did seem suspicious. “Hey, hey, you said you’re the Ultimate Clown dude, but, do you actually know about Ultimates?”
To the question about who he was, Kokichi could just give him a smug grin as answer. Well, time to introduce himself, even though he would of course lie a little about it. “I’m Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate supreme Leader of evil! I lead an organization with over 10,000 members! What do you say to that now, huh? Am I still that uninteresting to you?”
They both looked like the type of person who could not stand to be bored. At least that was the sense that Hajime got. Since they had boredom as a mutual enemy then maybe he could try to entertain
“Great, now I’m going to have to find a unicycle.” Hajime walked outside for a moment, and this conversation was heard in the street. He used all of the talents Hope’s Peak had given him at his disposal to find a unicycle in less than sixty seconds, and when he walked back in Hajime jumped into the air and did a hand stand, landing on the unicycle, before he flipped again and landed the proper way. He picked up a couple of chairs from the establishment and began to juggle them until the man who owned the cafe told him to stop. At which point he finally jumped down.
When he finished he closed is eyes playfully. “What a coincidence. I’m also the Ultimate Supreme Leader. I didn’t need an organization of 10,000 people because I only needed an organization of sixteen people to destroy the whole world.” Maybe it was just Kokichi’s small size but he suddenly felt like he was bullying a little kid.
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demoneating:
The equally ferocious response from the other young man was initially shocking, but only for a moment; after that brief moment had passed, Genya’s own tenacity was even more flared up than before.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?!”
Genya quickly realized that he could not shirk the other boy’s grip, so instead, Genya snatched Hinata’s collar in his own fist, holding it tightly. If he would not let go, then neither would Genya.
“Adult? You’re just a teenager!” So was Genya, but, that was beside the point. “Where the hell do you get off bothering other people?!”
Who raised him? That was a difficult question that would entail a long and complicated answer. But, Genya wouldn’t think about that right now. He was far too angry to think of his brother and their tragic childhoods.
“Piss off already, you weirdo!”
“I’m a twenty two year old who never finished high school. I’m basically just a neet, who failed to become anyone important that’s who I am.”
Hajime said without any pride at all. It was impossible for someone like him to have pride anyway. He was a reserve course student without any talent, or anything at all. He really should not be talking, but he kept running his mouth.
“You’re the one who’s annoying the hell out of me. You should thank me for being such a kind and considerate person and looking out for you, brat.”
Hajime said, at this point raising his voice just loud enough to win the screaming match. It did not seem that either of them were going to get anywhere at this point. The two of them both had stubbornness as their strongest personality trait.
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demoneating:
Had Genya been trying to eat a demon, or rather, the corpse of something he had assumed was a demon? Perhaps. Were his actions therein misguided? Probably. Did Genya deserve a kick to the face and a scolding? Absolutely.
He had brought this on himself, getting rash and trying to force something that could not be. Genya had felt weakened since arriving on this island, and worried that his own technique of eating demon flesh had been altered as well. In order to test this theory, Genya found himself in such a frustrating situation.
“Let go of me!” He screeched, shoving the other away. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Fuck off!”
Was Hinata right? Of course. Did Genya see that behind his anger? Of course not.
“Watch your fucking language you little shit!”
Hinata Hajime possessed the talent of the Ultimate Child Caretaker. However, at the moment he was too short tempered to use it. Both Hinata and Genya had the same fiery demeanor, they were both trying to look strong in that moment, but all that meant was they were both shouting at each other and neither of them was making any progress.
“You clearly don’t know how to act so don’t bitch and moan when an adult lectures you.” Hinata Hajime, a role model (not). Genya was strong, far too strong for a kid his age, almost as strong was an Ultimate but Hinata was strong. Or Kamukura was, rather. The kid could not escape his grip that easily.
“Who raised you anyway? Just for once can’t I run into somebody normal? Just one normal person that’s all I ask.”
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@seizonka
“Hey, I thought I said don’t go wandering off on your own. What if you get lost? Guys like you are no good when they’re alone.”
Hinata saw a boy in loose green clothing, with wavy hair and reached out without thinking. This morning he had woken up alone and figured Komaeda ran away again, and started wondering if the other boy wanted to be chased or something. Either way he had spent an entire morning scouring the city, and now he had some kind of headache commonly called Komigraine and was squinting to keep the sunlight out of his eyes.
When he saw the boy in front of him had green hair, not white, and was currently staring at the stranger who lectured him out of nowhere Hinata wanted to die a little bit. He quickly let go of the boy’s shoulder and backed off, scratching at the back of his spiky hair.
“Sorry, I mistook you for someone else…”, Hinata said, and then quickly tried to back pedal. “Please don’t take any life advice from me. I don’t know how to anything.”
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sotouso:
Kokichi surely didn’t expect this outcome. Who or what was this guy? Did he see him setting up the trap before or…? No, even if he did see it before, he still would need some inhumane reflexes in order to catch that bucket like that. That was a first to someone like him, that probably did this prank already a countless of times.
“Ohh…”, was all what Kokichi said at first with a blank expression. A little bit speechless at what he just witnessed. “Boring, huh…?” Now that was an insult that hurt the prankster. It was more boring that he had to be a spoilsport like that! “Interesting, no one called my pranks that before, y’know.”
“What’s up with you anyway, huh!? Did you maybe perform in anything acrobatic like a circus or somethin’ like that? I must say, that was quite impressive, though!~ What else can you do? C’moon you ruined my prank, so you better tell me now!”
“You’re not as unique or interesting an existence as you think you are.” Hinata knew he was being a little bit mean, but when he saw brats like this he could not help but want to put them in their place. Even though he was nothing more than a grown up brat that thought he was special.
“Yes, you’re right. I’m the Ultimate Clown. I’m not just a clown, I’m the entire damn circus. Even if you wanted to defeat my clownery, you couldn’t, I’m just on a whole other level. I’m the Clown Crown.” It was impossible to tell if Hinata was joking around with Kokichi or just being bitter, it was probably some combination of the two. The boy was naturally a sourpuss so he tended not to get along with those who liked to make jokes.
There was something familiar about the boy in front of him, that small frame, that body so thin he could practically see the bones underneath his skin, he had the appearance of a laughing skeleton. Hinata remembered the only other boy who had ever reminded him so much of a shinigami. In his heart he prayed that this boy and Komaeda would never meet.“Alright, I told you who I am, so who are you exactly? The king of fakes?”
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@demoneating
Hinata kicked the boy in the alleyway in the head. Even though it was none of his business he raised his voice and started lecturing the boy who was much younger than him. He would have made such a terrible senpai.
“You can’t just eat dead bodies off the ground! That’s unsanitary! Wash your mouth out with a bar of soap!” Hinata had already saw the end of the world. He watched humans destroy themselves and each other. The idea of cannibalism is not what had bothered him, but rather how unsanitary it was.
“You can’t eat raw meat either, you’ve got to cook it first. You’re going to get sick otherwise. Is that what you want? Do you want to get sick? Because that’s how you get sick.” Hinata said grabbing the boy by the ear and dragging him up so he could continue to lecture him in his face. He might have been the worst senpai of all time.
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like for a starter from hajime. If you want to plot my dms are always open.
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for-hope:
Because you look like… someone whose already dead. Past due. Hardly here at all. The way Hinata looks at him sometimes, he can see it, that same look he’d seen from so many people. Looking at something that shouldn’t still be here, a corpse rather than a person. What was that if not disgusting? He was used to it. Used to it. That look he’d seen so many times. So. So it only hurts a little bit.
If he pulled a gun on Hinata right now, would it jam? Would it fire? Would he be able to take it away, effortlessly, like a dance? Would it unjam in his hands? Would his luck shine so much brighter than Komaeda’s own unreliable excuse for a talent? Or would they be the hands of a reserve course student, clumsy and slow and —
And rough as they brush passed his collar and —
And how he wishes he was able to speak, speak in those few moments and say yes, yes I hate you, I hate you Hinata Hajime, you worthless, unworthy pathetic…
Something, anything before—
He’d never dared imagine this. He has no reference point, not really, for if this is a talented kiss or the sloppy and painfully average kiss of reserve course trash. He doesn’t know what this is, if the worlds going to invert or spring into color, but it just goes dark.
Oh, because he closed his eyes. Closed them for this endless eternity that he’d never dared think about. Not even that one night in the fun house, aching and unable to sleep, thinking about what he could even say if Hinata came to talk to him again, if he would, after all he’d already spent so much time and surely, surely he wouldn’t. Thinking about what it would feel like to tell him the truth — and then — No, he hadn’t thought about this, even then in that soundproof room.
Hinata could be useless and weak and nothing at all, but he’s so much stronger than Nagito will ever be. He’s so warm, so strong with his hands still around the collar of that old green jacket. Nagito is weak, so he stays one faint heart beat longer, and he hopes, he hopes that it won’t be the one that makes the difference, and then he ducks down, out of his too big coat still in Hinata’s grip. And runs.
He doesn’t know anything about this city, he has no idea where he’s going, and he’s putting all of his energy into keeping his weak legs moving as fast as he can make them. His luck - his luck will take him somewhere, and maybe, maybe if he moves fast enough it can be somewhere horrible. Somewhere that can only be described as Bad Luck. Maybe if he runs fast enough he can outrun whatever cosmic scales are shuffling around, are putting Hinata, Hinata with his lack of manners and rough voice and sweaty hands and chapped lips onto its balances.
Stupid. Hinata is so stupid. Matsuda-kun really was amazing, if he had had a hand in turning that boy into that crimson eyed raven haired god. He had no energy left in his brain to even be embarrassed by that thought. He had so little energy to start with and it’s quickly draining out through the streets of this strange city.
He swerves into a crowd, stumbling half blind, following it wherever its pushing and shoving too. Maybe Hinata would be too stupid to find him. Maybe Kamukura would be too bored. Too repulsed by the throng of boring masses, wherever they were heading.
He lets the movement of the crowd carry him, out of breath and dizzy until he slams into a metal pole. Ah. A turnstile. This is a train station then. He could get on any one of these trains and end up somewhere else. Somewhere even further away. Or he could get on none of them at all, he thinks, as one whizzes past close enough for the hot breeze to blow his hair back.
He’d tried so many times to control his luck. To direct it. All he ever managed to do was his best to push people away. To make sure they couldn’t factor into whatever happened next. Anything else always backfires. Is this for Hinata, that worthless, talentless boy? Or Kamukura, the man so loved by talent the world itself fell apart in his wake? For both of them? Neither? Can he even become a stepping stone for anything in a place like this?
He could always make things worse for Hinata by trying and failing to control it again. But if he does nothing, isn’t that as bad? He isn’t sure anymore. He’s been so confused ever since he’d woken up from that program. No, before that. Since he’d met that girl. No, before that, too. Maybe it was just his brain. It was full of holes after all.
His hand is shaking as he goes to mimic the people next to him as they slide their phones over the turnstile. But. But his phone is missing. The phone he’d had when he found himself here. It must have been in his coat pocket.
Of course.
Dejected, he slumps out of the way. The random faceless mob of empty blobs fills in the spot he’d been, keeps moving. But he’s out of energy. He can’t even make it to the benches, just sits down against a concrete poll and puts his head in his hands. The robotic one clicks and whirs, just to remind him how all his attempts to control anything end. He wants to curl his jacket around him, to hide in it. But it’s not here.
Frustrated. Anxiety ridden. He second guessed himself. He over-analyzed. He hated himself. He thought way too much and way too little. He was stupid. He was brilliant. He knew everything. He had no idea what he was doing.
That was just the kiss, and when Komaeda pulls away Hinata felt his stone heart drop into his stomach, and splash acid on his insides. He just slowly feels himself melt from the inside out, and for a moment he just stands there.
He forgot he had the talent of the Ultimate Track runner, that a person like him could easily catch up with Komaeda. All he does is reach his hand out after him. It is perhaps the lamest thing he has ever done in his entire life. Hinata was constantly hitting new lows, he was talented like that.
With Komaeda gone the crowd just looks like ants. Hinata saw cracks forming in the glass around him. He stayed still for a long time, simply letting the crowd pass by him. Then he caught a small light reflecting off a silver screen. He picked Komaeda’s phone up off the ground.
When he finally reached the place Komaeda was curled up, that boy’s pale skin glowed in the low light in front of him catching his eye. “Running away. What are you a little kid?” He asked finally. He had no idea if he was not feeling the emotions he should have been right now, or if he was just stopping himself from feeling anything.
Either was fine. He did not want to particularly feel anything right now.
He just wrapped his arms around Komaeda. For a moment it looked like a comforting gesture, but instead picked him up like a sack of potatoes and threw him over his shoulder. it was the most unromantic carry possible.
“You know what they say the definition of insanity is? Trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”
Hinata bobbed as he carried Komaeda through the crowd looking for somewhere isolated. Some part of him doubted Komaeda was even listening to him right now. Then, what was this? Venting? That was all they seemed to do around each other anyway.
When they were together they hated themselves a little less, or maybe they hated themselves a little more.
“You always just try to isolate yourself. Doing the same thing. Evertime. So boring.”
The streets were far too packed. Hinata did not see anywhere where they could be alone.
“Let’s just go back to my house for the night. I’m tired of dealing with people. And by people I mean you. And if you say ‘I don’t count as a person’ I’m going to suplex you.”
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sotouso:
@hopesoath liked for a starter
Kokichi was a prankster. Even if his old group wasn’t around, he still was one and would keep doing all kind of stuff to entertain himself. He actually invited another person to meet him at that one cafe, but while he was waiting in front of the main door for his ‘friend’, another stranger appeared.
That wasn’t his original plan though, anyone who would open the door now, would be greeted by some bucket of water spilling over them. Not that he had really a problem if it would hit someone else than his main target, but confusing that guy still surely would turn out to be fun!
“Hey, you! I wouldn’t open that door, if I were you!~”
Hinata did not stop at all as he heard the warning. The only change in his expression was a slight twitching of his left eye. His red eye seemed to go crooked for a moment before straightening back up again. If this were a manga, he would be hiding some forbidden power in his left eye, but unfortunately this was reality and therefore much more boring.
He walked forward anyway but rather than letting the bucket spill all over him he suddenly jumped up into the air with only half a second to catch it, then held it to his chest as he landed on the ground. Hinata Hajime would have just took the bucket to the head like a doofus, but Izuru Kamukura could predict exactly where the bucket would land and move faster to snatch it out of the air.
Hinata looked back at Kokichi as he offered the bucket to him. His voice was so lacking of any emotion it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. “Your prank is boring. Do better next time.”
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for-hope:
Komaeda stared intently into the bowl of noodles, as if somewhere in the messy overlapping swirls he might find its exact worth in the strange currency of luck that his life ran on entirely outside of his control, as if he might be able to decode the next terrible thing that would happen in the steam like some kind of augury.
He was still staring at it as Hinata spoke. The thing is, he’d gotten so much in his life without paying any money. But none of it had actually been free. Good luck, that he’d never had to worry about money once in his life. Bad luck, that the currency he did have to worry about was so much harder to manage.
He almost wished he’d just dropped the entire bowl when Hinata grabbed him, but all that happened is some of the liquid sloshed up and over the sides. He’d let go, on instinct, with his one real hand, but the prosthetic stayed holding on enough that only a few noodles and toppings spilled out over the side and onto the street.
“You’re really eager to manhandle me today, Hinata-kun, so don’t worry, you’re still the rude one, for sure.” He said, pleasantly enough. He shook out his hand. There was a red spot from where the hot broth had landed. How unsafe, serving soup so hot it could burn. He tried really hard to ignore the images flashing through his head of that cart overturning on the mans rush to his new spot. Maybe it wouldn’t happen, so long as Komaeda stayed here.
At least it didn’t hurt. Or maybe he just couldn’t feel it with the even more burning touch of Hinata’s hand on his hair. He really was so rude. If only Komaeda could ignore this as easily as he ignored the idea of the overturned cart. But he had years of practice navigating past one, and absolutely no practice with the other. He could keep fear from showing on his face most of the time, but right now, it wasn’t fear, but a hot blush creeping up his neck. Between that, Hinata’s hand, and the white hot ball of lead forming in his throat, the minor burn hardly registered.
Hinata is so close, his face is so close. His lips were— Komaeda tried to focus on his eyes, but his gaze kept drifting down. Just because it was too intense, looking directly at them, and not because the curve of the other boys lips kept drawing his attention. Komaeda would never be so presumptuous. “This must,” he breathed out as much as spoke, his breath too airy, “be unbearable,” being so close to someone like him. Hinata could already see the blush on his cheeks. He must be completely revolted.
“I’m sorry I’m so,” he swallowed, forced himself to try to make eye contact again, and failed, his eyes drawn like magnets to the bow of Hinata’s lips, “disgusting,” he finished.
The feeling of Hinata’s hand on his cheek, such a gentle touch, was far too much. He could hold onto the bowl of soup through the harsh tug, the lecturing to mind his manners, but something so soft? He shivered, and without realizing it, let the bowl of noodles fall from his prosthetic hand. He didn’t even realize until he heard it hit the ground and felt the contents of it splash against his pants. And because, for some inexplicable reason, Hinata had been standing so painfully close, naturally some of it got on him as well.
Hinata had given up a date and was kind enough to take him here to eat, and now he’d gone and made a mess of everything, as usual. This is why people avoided him. Something he would have known if they’d actually been classmates.
But they hadn’t been, had they.
Komaeda took the opportunity to look away and brush the noodles and vegetables off his pant legs the best he could. When he spoke again, the breathiness in his voice had frozen over into little shards of ice. They hurt his throat to get out, but everything hurt so he didn’t bother to stop himself.
“Kamukura has the talents to catch a bowl of noodles before it hits the ground.” He said, flinging a piece of pepper as far away from him as he could, which amounted to little more than a meter. “I think I’ve been pretty clear. There’s no point in me spending time around someone without talent.” All he did was make a mess. There was nothing for his luck to help nurture, there was no good that could come from him getting close to someone with no talent to speak of. They would only get hurt.
“What’s wrong with wanting to touch you? What do you not want to get reserve course germs on you or something?”
Hinata knew when Komaeda was just teasing him. If he was smart, he would just let it go. He was the opposite of smart, so he always got riled up and fell for it every time. If Komaeda had the slightest bit of self esteem, he could probably make Hinata putty in his hands just from how easy his buttons were to press.
Komaeda had this fragile look to him. He was soft, like falling snow. As beautiful as he was to look at from afar, as quiet, the moment you tried to reach out and touch him he would melt. That was the impression Hinata always had of him. Yet, there were times Hinata was far more sensitive than Komaeda ever was. Times like this. When he watched every twitch of Komaeda’s eyes, trying to discern where he was looking. Was he looking at him? Was he thinking of him? Hinata could read and predict facial expressions but Komaeda’s luck always made him a tad unpredictable.
No, even if Hinata did use his analysis he had no confidence at all in the results. He always thought he would gain confidence too when he finally got a talent. That was why he signed his name on the dotted line.
“Oh my god, nobody said you were disgusting. I told you not to call yourself disgusting, I literally... ugh I was worried about your health, you know because you look like... like...”
Sick.
Hinata did not even want to say it, because it was the one thing he could not control. It was the one thing that might take Komaeda away from him. He destroyed Komaeda’s happy dream and woke him up from the simulation, but he might just lose him again. Even if Komaeda does not decide to kill himself, he might just die anyway. It might not even be brain cancer, a random piano could fall out of nowhere onto his head.
Hinata thought about it so much, that his hands started to shake. He felt himself drifting away from his own body. That was why when he watched the noodles fall he tried to grab for it, but clumsily they slipped out of his hands.
Kamukura would have...
Hinata read him loud and clear. Komaeda had no faith in all of the ability of a reserve course student to save him. Komaeda looked down on him, like everybody else. They all did in the end. Hinata suddenly grabbed Komaeda by the collar and jerked him back out of his chair.
“I get it already. I’m the last person you want to go on this date with. Why can’t you just ever... say that you hate me? Everything you say is so... So... Just, shut up already.” Hinata leaned in and pressed his lips hard against Komaeda. “I’ll make you shut up.”
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@yakuzabyblood
Hinata wanted desperately to get in good with the Yakuza. It’s not like he was any less of a low life than Fuyuhiko was, after all he tried to destroy the world once. Besides that Fuyuhiko was one of his precious friends from Jabberwock, he wanted to be close to him in this city the same way they were on this island.
Hinata walked up to him with all the confidence in the world.
“Hey, Fuyuhiko let’s go get some sake together like real men.”
That was a lie, he had no confidence at all. Hinata immediately crumpled.
“J-just a joke, I’m not a real man, I’m like barely a real person. We’re both over twenty now so in the eyes of the law we should be able to drink... well actually in the eyes of the law we’re both wanted crimminals.”
Hinata slapped his own forehead hard, to reign himself in. He really needed to get better at this whole talking thing. “Just...” He exhaled completely exasperated with himself. “Do you want to hang out?”
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animuras:
“What a compelling idea,” Furuta said. “Maybe you should.” Choose to just die, that is. While he was doing so much to steal Furuta’s role, he might as well. “It’d be doing us both a favor. You’re trying to be more of a hero right? What’s more heroic than that?”
He scoffed down when Hinata hit the back of his gloved hand. “You really are such a cheater.”
They were at the base of the stairs now. He did his best to tune Hinata’s rambling out. It must be nice, to be able to do that completely. He’d acquired many skills in his many parallel lives, but this one was always tantalizingly just out of reach. What he wouldn’t have done to have been able to genuinely just tune out Kijima. Alas, he’d be stuck hearing it all and improvising his own little parody play to keep himself from wanting any more than he already did to just slam the man’s patchwork face into the desk and then gouge his own eardrums out. He knew way more than anyone in the world could ever want to know about tap dancing with a peg leg. At least the tortures Kijima recounted were passingly interesting for a little. Easier to parody at least. And easier for Rank One, the character he played in his own parody play, to respond to. That was his little acting tip of the day. Even when the real conversation is unbearable you could just reply to the parody version with a parody character and stupid people can’t tell the difference.
But he’s not even going to bother to do that now. He’s not sure what the hell a parody of that would even sound like. Hinata Hajime’s hero speeches were already parodies. He suspects at least half the man knows that, too.
He looks ahead, up the stairs. “If this is you thinking less about yourself, I’d hate to have met you before.” It’s not funny, it’s not even particularly a good insult, and it’s probably endlessly hypocritical. but he’s tired. He’s really tired. He forces himself to take a step foreword, tries desperately to lie to himself that there’s any real possibility any more that this whole mess will really end in his death now that Hinata was here, because otherwise, he won’t even be able to go through with the play.
Whatever bullshit had inspired Hinata to play hero must have been filled with people for whom this kind of thing was inspirational and engaging. But he was a clown. The opposite of a person. So much the inverse that Hinata might well achieve his goal by going so far in the opposite direction. He was this close to not even caring enough to continue the show and just letting Hinata carry him to the roof and point the app and end it himself. He can try again later. Eventually, Hinata would get bored of this. Furuta could see that in him.
Still, somehow, he’s managed to get himself most of the way up the stairs. The roof is visible now, and at the far end of what he can see a bottom half of a figure. He forces himself up the rest of the way before speaking again, to Hinata, but loud enough that the thing he can now see will hear. It’s a double of himself wearing a button down shirt and slacks, a totally ordinary totally overlookable young man.
“Like and dislike aren’t really opposites, you know.” He stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets to stop Hinata from grabbing them again, his eyes fixed on the unmarred gloveless hands of the double in front of him. “Love and hate… they have a lot more in common with each other than they do with apathy.”
He took a step forward, then another, losing any interest in the answers he had come here to find more and more with each one. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught. One way to win the game is to know the rules better than anybody else, and be smarter than the rules right?”
Hinata felt like, this man in front of him was a kindred spirit. At least with half of him. None of the insults he hurled at Hinata were any different from what he heard in his own head all the time. on the surface they seemed to despise each other, but Hinata thought they might be able to also chat like good friends if Furuta ever let him.
Until then he supposed he was just going to play the role of babysitter. Furuta underestimated how good Hinata was at simply waiting and watching. It was perhaps the only thing those mismatched eyes of his had ever been good for. There was such a difference in their natures, even so distant from his own bodies all of Furuta’s movements were hurried, anxious even, like he could not afford to waste any time at all. His whole nature was impatient. Hinata was sluggish by comparison, or maybe half sluggish. Furuta tried to hide it, his movements were deliberate, practiced, but little escaped Hinata’s eyes.
A rueful smile spread across his lips as he considered the possibility that Furuta might be smart enough to trick him. He had no problem being fooled by a clown. He suddenly pictured the bloody mess Furuta would leave him, if ever given the opportunity to. Hinata was certain they saw people the same way, just as pieces that could be easily broken, and moved around just as easy. He stopped considering that the moment he remembered if that happened Komaeda would no longer have anybody to come home to, and then started to hate himself a little for how fucked up that was.
“What could you possibly know about apathy...?” Hinata said as his expression went crooked.
He had grown so tired looking at the world in front of him, a world that never changed. A world that he could never be a part of except as a spectator in the audience. A world that he had no one to share with.
Hinata stepped back and watched as Furuta encountered his other. It occurred to him that despite all of his efforts in saving the other, if Furuta would die right here he would feel nothing. Furuta was not one of his friends, not one of the precious people on Jabberwock Island he needed to protect.
“Go ahead then. Kill your other self, or go back in time and kill that child before he could ever grow up into a human failure like you. If this is a game then I’ll make a bet, as much as a twisted freak you are I bet you do care.”
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esswordrer:
Meaningless, that was all she got to think about after some simple training on the Bamboo Grove alongside many other samurais and specialized fighters that wished to expand their knowledge. But… for what really ? The swordswoman had lost what she thought more precious to her, had died once for a REVENGE that wasn’t even of her planning, and had no purpose to live without serving as the tool Peko thought she ONCE WAS. Life had never given her the opportunity to be free, and when it finally gave her such thing Peko didn’t know what to do ( she should be alive to start with ).
Wooden sword unfolded, cutting through the air with both of her feet planted firmly on the ground as it gave her the balance needed for the movement. The gesture in her face showed concentration and determination, Peko felt like the world was focused within the sword and the training dummy in front of her. One step became two and with the short distance she sliced a hit towards her target. A PERFECT cut, it would have been effective enough to cut it in half if it wasn’t because of the material of the weapon, WOODEN, different from the blades she worked with back home. Perhaps in the future she could manage herself to get back that old shinai sword of hers, Meanwhile this will have to suffice her needs and the training she daily attended to as part of her routine.
It was no surprise that Peko had become more of a paranoid person after living through the killing game. Always partly attentive for a sudden attack, Peko was ready for the unexpected and what it was inside such criteria, that included someone sneaking up from behind in her direction. She did not hesitate with an intimidate attack taken like a warning as her sword pointed at Hinata’s neck.
❝ Hajime ? ❞
stater call. / @hopesoath
“You’re pointing a blade at my throat, and I barely feel anything. I wonder if you had killed me right then would I have...”
HInata’s voice trailed off. The Ultimate Swordsman could probably figure out a way to take his head off, though with Kamukura’s talents he would have seen it coming. Hinata really was happy to see his old friend in this city, but someone as painfully mediocre as he was he could not be goddamn normal about anything. He had been too caught up watching Pekoyama’s silent practice, admiring that she had what he never would the ability to try, fail and hone her skills. He forgot to announce his presence to her.
“Oh no, I’ve made things awkward. Can I not be the worst for like five seconds? Just... ignore what I said, and also the fact that I snuck up on you sorry! Kamukura’s got this thing where he can walk silently and I can do it too. It’s like a ninja talent, and you’re basically a Samurai so does that make us rivals? No wait, forget I said that it was dumb.”
She called him by his name Hajime. He wanted to be Hajime in front of her, even though he was looking at her with both the eyes of the reserve course student she had met on that island, and the dull eyed monster who dragged Pekoyama and her master into despair and just watched for his own amusement.
“Well, now that I’m done embarrassing myself I want to say... I’m happy to see you Peko, did you have a good dream?”
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animuras:
“You still sound like you’re talking about yourself,” Furuta said, letting Hinata drag him back from the edge before extricating himself and swiveling around. “But it’s really rather rude to project all that onto me without permission.” He huffed. He did stink, but no more than this whole city. Metaphorically and literally. Really, Hinata was talking to him like a dog now. But it was more fun to misread things on purpose.
“I think we’re supposed to formalize this therapeutic relationship before you get into the projection and transference, but here you are already asking me to shower with you? Oh my. I don’t think this is an ideal healing environment we’re building here.”
And then he let that mask drop like it was made of lead. Or glass. Because you could almost hear it shatter against the floor, even if this messy office space was carpeted.
When he spoke next it was serious. Or what passed for serious with him. In that sort of uncanny valley of serious. A little kids imitation of the adults around him and movie characters that had been perfected and refined over much longer than most kids have to do so. “You keep talking like you think you understand me. It’s annoying.”
Damn, why did he have to mention the smell? Ghoul senses were as much a curse as a blessing. Even with all this blood, which wasn’t a particularly offensive odor, the rot was the overpowering scent. Like the sewers. He didn’t particularly want to think about the sewers right now with some wannabe philosopher waxing all meaning of life and death and all that at him.
“But if your place is nearby, I supposed I could use your shower before we call this whole thing off.”
Then, he preemptively spun away from Hinata, who was no doubt about to try to grab his hand, or worse try to carry him bridal style. “Why don’t you just lead the way this time.”
“You keep talking like there’s no one in the world who could ever possibly understand you. It’s unbelievably pretentious. Have you tried crawling out of your own ass lately?”
Hinata countered, he was already far too used to dealing with clowns. For a person with the skills of the Ultimate Therapist, he was a person whose patience for others was zero. Or perhaps he just wanted to be seen that way. If he was seen as a person who never tolerated other people’s bullshit, then no one would ever get in his head and try to mess with him.
The part of his brain that was Kamukura wanted absolute control over the situation. He pictured how easy it could be if he talked his way into becoming Furuta’s support. If Furuta relied only on him. If only Furuta stopped mouthing off. Furuta was pretending like it was his choice whether he got to die or not.
When they reached his own apartment HInata’s first action was to take what remained of his shirt off. He walked to the bathroom and removed all razor blades, medications, and any other toxic substances. “Bathroom’s free if you want to use it right now. I have no interest in being your therapist and I don’t really like you, so I’m not going to wash your back even if you beg me.”
As he walked by Furuta, Hinata started to take his pants off as well. He stepped out of them and stood in a pair of blue boxers with white floral print. Despite Hinata Hajime’s unassuming apperance, his body underneath his clothes was almost pure muscle with zero body fat. He put his clothes into a laundry basket and picked up the hamper. “I’m going to do laundry, when you get undressed I’ll wash your clothes too. You can borrow one of my suits from the closet, I’m taller than you but it probably won’t be much of a problem for just pajamas. Oh, do you want to sleep on the bed by the way?”
Hinata treated the entire situation in a completely mundane and casual way. It was almost odd how normal he was acting about this all. “Hmm, what are you staring at? I didn’t know you hated me that much just for trying to help you.” Hinata shrugged as he pulled on the waste band of his boxers and itched the spot on his back just at his tailbone that was bugging him.
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for-hope:
Hinata said something like that so shamelessly. He was right, of course, that holding hands was a skill all human beings should have. Just contracting a few muscles in his hand around that of another. Even someone like him, with only one real hand left - oh, not to insult the talents that had gone into this prosthetic he doesn’t deserve - really doesn’t deserve, considering why he needed it - what he’d done —
The memory of it only made his hand fall even more slack. He was vile. Disgusting. Horrible. No wonder, unlike all those people who could so easily hold hands, Komaeda Nagito was so inept at the task. So inexperienced. People could always tell what a rotten hand they would be holding. It was better this way. He looked down at the prosthetic. They had been right all along.
“Oh, no, not at all,” he said, a blank smile on his lips, “I’m used to it.” That wasn’t a lie. He was. He’d been alone so long by now it was probably easier to just stay like that. Even if Hinata had been right, as well.
He was sick of it. Sick with it. Sick because of it.
But. But it was so much better that he be sick instead of someone else. It was his horrible luck, after all. He should be the one to die because of it. He should have been—
He didn’t want to think of this either. His hand slackens even more. He was barely connected to Hinata now. It’s only the others grip holding onto his boney fingers. Such a tenuous connection. So fragile. With each step forward he could feel it fray even more. And the more it did, the more he wanted to break it. A clean cut. That’s for the best. But he didn’t. He just let Hinata lead him until they’re standing in front of a noodle cart.
It’s an unexceptional and obviously average choice. He was about to say as much, when Hinata launches into his confessional.
“Huh?” Is all Komaeda said in reply, at first. Hinata-kun was so strange. So transparent, even with his rough spiky exterior. Komaeda shivered, though he didn’t understand why. He’d seen all of this in Hinata-kun even before he’d seen those files. Someone like him. An outsider. An observer of talent rather than the holder of any. But at the same time… Hinata had seemed so much more than that.
Hinata was so much more than that. Because — because —
“Huh?” He said again. “Are you mixing yourself up with me? How terrible!” He’d said it himself, though. They were the same. That if they had been in each other’s places they might have walked each other’s paths. But still. “Someone like me? Really, how low.”
He looked up from the hand he’d been staring at, no longer touching Hinata’s. Eye contact is a strange thing. He used to practice it as a child, counting it out in his head, and somehow still always messing it up. Still, he tried. “It’s true, a regular reserve course student is lower than even myself, but you were chosen to become something so much more.” He remembered that overwhelming sense of presence, of talent, the second that gun had jammed. It was still there, hovering around the boring reserve course student, just beneath the surface. He started again. “You chose to become something so much more than that.”
He was out of breath by the time he stops talking, even that one short sentence. He didn’t think he could eat these mediocre noodles even if he wanted to, his stomach was so full of moths fluttering around, twisting in confusing spirals. Kamukura Izuru, the Ultimate Hope. Komaeda Nagito, Ultimate Despair. Hinata Hajime, the useless reserve course parasite. Komaeda Nagito, a mere lottery winner polluting a class of ultimates. A class of Hope. Of Despair.
He took a shaky step backwards, away from the noodle cart. It was all so twisted together, things that should be so clearly apart. It was sickening. Dizzying. “You’ve got it wrong,” He said, a line he’d used in a trial only because he hadn’t remembered, then, that the line belonged to the real Ultimate Hope, not the two of them here.
“Supporting talent, supporting the ultimates, it isn’t about earning a place among them.” How many times had he explained this to his classmates, to Yukizome-sensei. “And even still, it would be a waste to try to be of use to someone like me, anyway. A talent like mine…” He tried this whole eye contact thing again. “You said it yourself. What a worthless, boring talent.” This whole time, he’d quite forgotten the noodle cart and the man running it. So he jumped, ever so slightly when the man cleared his throat. Komaeda looked over to see him holding some kind of phone. “Look, kids,” He said to the two men who were both a good deal taller than him. “Just got a heads up that a prime spot opened up by the boardwalk.” He paused, as if they should know what that meant. When they clearly didn’t, he continued. “A break like this doesn’t happen everyday. No way I’m passing this up.” He reached into his cart and pulled out two containers and started shoving noodles into each, going down the line and throwing in all the toppings Komaeda was pretty sure usually cost extra. It wasn’t quite an ultimate talent, but there’s something compelling about the skill and speed of a well honed trade to it. Within a minute, he was handing the two containers over. “Here, my treat.” As soon as the containers were out of his hands, he started moving just as fast packing everything away. In another minute, he was pulling the cart off, muttering something about a ‘lucky break.”
Komaeda just stood there, bowl of noodles in hand. “Lucky. Huh.”
“Umm... thanks guy...”
Hinata noticed, not that he was looking or paying extra special attention to Komaeda or anything, or closely observing the details of his pale face, with shallow cheeks, and delicate feminine features. Not like he was over analyzing every single twitch of that face or anything. Hypothetically though if he were doing that, Hinata would have felt apprehension just at that moment as two cups of ramen were shoved into their hands.
He would have turned the man down right away. A small fluttering butterfly of a feeling told him that Komaeda’s heart was fluttering in the same way. Delicate. Careful. Precise. That was all the things he needed to be with Komaeda. Those were also all the things that Hinata never was around Komaeda, as his rudest, most aggressive self was drawn out. “What’s with that face, huh? Don’t be so difficult, just say thanks when someone gives you free stuff.” Hinata complained, looking at the ramen in his hand. He grabbed the back of Komaeda’s head and encouraged him to bow as the man in the kart disappeared. Hinata definitely did not think about how it felt to have Komaeda’s white, starched hair rough against his hand. Not thinking, it was the one thing he was good at. “I thought you were supposed to be the polite one, and I was the rude one. Don’t just go changing it up like that, I’m not just here to get dragged along by your whims you know.”
That was a lie. Hinata would continue letting himself get dragged along by Komaeda. Because he thought they were the same and he needed to save this person so like himself. Because he thought he was the only one capable of saving Komaeda. Because he wanted to prove he was stronger than Komaeda’s luck. You could take your pick, Hinata could come up with as many reasons for his relationship with Komaeda as there were stars in the night sky. It was something he was always trying to throw away, it was something he desperately never wanted to let go of.
“Hm? There’s something wrong with your face- no wait, that wasn’t an invitation for you to start describing how ugly your face is. You sick or something?” He had yet to remove his hand from Komaeda’s hair. He wondered what it felt like, a gentle tug at the scalp from pulling at such long and unwieldy hair. No, focus idiot. Hinata leaned in and pressed his forehead against Komaeda’s. If he needed an excuse he could say he possessed the talents of the Ultimate nurse. “You’re all cold, wet and sticky like normal so it’s not a fever or anything. Still, your face suddenly got all red...”
Hinata drew back for a moment. Their faces were lined up, centimeters away from each other close enough that they could share the same breath and all he could do was stare with the dull deductive eyes of Kamukura.
He had no idea why Komaeda was suddenly acting so melancholy. Other than that he was Komaeda, but that reason was not enough to satisfy him. Hinata finally let go of his hair and took a step back, his fingers trailing along the side of Komaeda’s face before he drew his hand back to his own cheek. “You say that I’m just like you, and then you we’re nothing alike. You can’t just change your mind as it suits you, you know.” Hinata said, grinding his teeth in frustration. He knows he should not let his annoyance show because Komaeda considers himself a burden and an eyesore, but he does anyway. “When you first woke up from the Neo World Program you called me Kamukura. You’d rather it was him speaking with you right now then me, huh? Is that what it is? So if I’d never chosen to have that surgery then I wouldn’t be worth your time at all?”
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aiprcgrammed:
she couldn’t help but drift her eyes to hajime and away from the lights, guessing why he was so distracted. chiaki had noticed hajime’s eyes staring at her the entire time yet she didn’t seem to mention anything about it once. she was always oblivious “we can light it together. you and chiaki were friends, of course she would want you to remember her. i think it would make her very happy.” chiaki tries her best to smile in order to ease whatever was making him anxious. she scans the area just a little more, running towards the lights to grab two only to come back minutes later to hand him one.
“hmm. i don’t think chiaki thought of herself to be very normal at the beginning due to her talents but as for me, i guess i don’t. it’s difficult to imagine when you’ve been built as an ai with a lack of knowledge in things like that.” at least knowledge on typical every day life as a normal girl, because all that just wasn’t considered when she was created, only knowledge on her friends and how her friends see her. “you must know more than i do, hajime, huh?”
Hinata still felt that he was nothing more than a stain on Chiaki’s memory. If only she had run into someone else that day in front of the fountain. That guy at least, would not have failed to save her, and dragged her beloved class into despair. It probably hurt her more, that her friend had done all those things. To stop himself from trembling, Hinata shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Yeah she was definitely a weirdo...” Way to talk about your dead friend that way, you ass! Hinata quickly tried to say something else so he sounded less insensitive. “When I first met her I thought n the future she was going to turn into a NEET... I was that worried for her as a human being.” No, you’re making it worse.
It should be simple, all he needed to do was open his and move his lips in conjunction with his tongue to talk but for some reason he kept screwing it up. He strained himself to smile, with twitching lips. He was pretty sure a blood vessel in his forehead was going to burst from how hard he was trying.
Chiaki was always watching him, but maybe she would not notice. He hoped. Hinata winked at her. It looked more like he was having some kind of eye twitch.
“Yep, that’s me. I’m the most normal milquetoast wishy washy guy I can think of. You could call me the Ultimate Mediocrity. So if you have any questions, just rely on me for once...”
For once. Because Chiaki was always helping him and he had yet to do a single thing for her.
“Do you know about festivals? You know, fireworks, and yakisoba, and wearing yukatas...?”
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