#* M: Hajime Hinata ; THERE’S A BIT OF HOPE LEFT

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

*This is a fan art of Ultimate Ask Blog (@ultimateask).

I didn't know until today that there was a story after Chiaki and Hajime got married in the blog, but as soon as I saw it, this image came to my mind and I drew it on impulse. (I have a drawing in progress and would continue to work on it today, but I couldn't help but draw this RIGHT NOW! 😆)

There is no story posted about the married Hajime and Chiaki actually being together (maybe?), so how they look is totally my imagination, but it made me inexplicably happy to think about their loving married life.

For those interested, here are the original posts:

[sassycheesecake]

The stadium is bursting with life and energy, people are ready to watch the long awaited game between Argentine and Japan‘s national volleyball team.

You came over to watch your husband play against his high school rivals, it’s been a dream of his ever since he left Japan.

Currently, you’re having a big heart attack, since you only turned around for a second to buy some onigiri snacks for you and your son, to find out said four-year old was just gone.

Panic flows through your veins along with adrenaline, you’re looking for that little brunette boy everywhere, when you remember that Mathéo has probably gone to look for his father.

Luckily at that time, Hajime Iwaizumi, 27-year old Athletic Trainer is currently helping Team Japan stretch for warm up when a heard a familiar voice of a child calling his name.

When the former Ace turns around in confusion, he sees Oikawa’s son, running towards him with big excitement in his dark brown orbs.

'Mathéo surely is a solid copy of his father.' Iwaizumi thinks as he greets his godchild.

"Mathéo, why are you by yourself? Where is your mum or your father?" The brunette crouches down as he looks around in concern to look for you or his best friend.

When you spot your son with Iwaizumi, you breathe out a big sigh of relief but you have to scold your son for pulling a stunt like that.

When the Athletic Trainer hears you, he is relieved that you found him and your son. But he is also happy to see you again, last time he visited you and Oikawa was almost over a year ago.

"Mathéo! Don’t do that again, I was looking everywhere for you! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" You scold the young boy and he looks incredibly guilty, almost ready to cry when he hears that you were so worried.

"I am sorry, mama. I just saw uncle Hajime and I wanted to say hello."

You sigh, feeling bad but also relieved that he is okay.

"I know but don’t run away from me again. Be glad it’s me scolding you and not your father."

"Yes, mama. I'm very sorry." Mathéo looks to the floor for a second, before looking at the Japanese players again, watching them with amazement and a big gleam in his eyes.

When you get up again from your crouched position, Iwaizumi notices something about you.

Your belly is having a small bump again.

"Has Shittykawa really knocked you up again?" He snickers a bit and raises a brow at you in amusement.

"Please don’t remind me, I had a moment of weakness with those eyes of his. Besides, Mathéo really wished for a sibling. He is already four years old. Can you believe that?" You look at your son in amazement and love, he looks exactly like his father, except that he has a very quiet personality, more like yours.

"How far along are you?" Iwaizumi interrupts your thoughts, looking at you with a smile, folding his arms.

"13 weeks now, Tōru really hopes for a girl this time." You grin at the brunette rubbing your stomach a bit.

"You shouldn’t run though, it’s not good for you during your early pregnancy." Still ever the concerned mother duck, Iwaizumi scolds you a bit.

"I know, I know, I was just in a huge panic mode, because I couldn’t find him." You sigh with a smile.

Iwaizumi smiles at you yet again and unbeknownst to you, a few players stopped their warm up, watching the interaction between you and their Athletic Trainer.

"I didn’t know Iwaizumi had a family." Hakuba states.

"Damn, she’s super hot. Too bad she is married ta our Athletic Trainer." Atsumu wiped a towel across his face, his brown eyes still captivated by the woman.

Hinata hears his teammates talking and looks over and sees Iwaizumi and a beautiful, breathtaking woman standing next to him, talking and laughing. For some reason you look very familiar but he can’t remember exactly where he has seen your face before.

All of sudden, you depart from Iwaizumi and the young boy who was watching the Japanese team, comes up to you to hold your hand.

When you turn a bit to see the players, you spot Hinata, giving him a bashful smile and a small wave at him, walking to the sides to look for your husband and his team.

Hinata can’t help but feel like you look extremely familiar, that young boy really reminds him of a certain brown-haired Setter that was once and honestly still is Kageyama‘s archenemy.

Iwaizumi turns back to the group and sees that some of the players are giving him weird looks.

"What?" He asks harshly into the round.

"Since when do you have a wife and a kid??" Suna frowns.

"What are you talking about?" Iwaizumi frowns back in confusion.

"The goddess of beauty itself that was just standin' next ta ya a minute ago." Atsumu clarifies.

"Also, I don’t know if you noticed but the kid looks nothing like you." Kageyama adds as well.

Iwaizumi finally understands but can’t help himself to be ticked off by Kageyama‘s last comment.

"Because she’s not? You have known me for what?Almost four months? You ever seen a ring on me or that woman visiting me at work? She is only a very good friend of mine. She used to be Aoba Johsai’s manager." The Athletic Trainer explains.

"That’s why she looked familiar! Her name is (Y/L/N) (Y/F/N) isn’t it?" Hinata is very excited and hopes to talk to you again, after meeting you in Brazil with Oikawa together almost 6 years ago.

"Well, believe it or not, it’s actually Oikawa (Y/N) now."

Another voice chimes in, the sentence carried with pride and smugness.

Some of the players tense up and almost growl at the sight of Argentine‘s official Setter walking up with an agonizing smirk.

"Nice to see you again Shōyō. Hope you and the suckers behind you are ready to lose." Oikawa just loves to rile people up, seeing the reactions of them are always a blast for him.

"The fuck did ya just say-" Atsumu growls and is ready to physically fight the opponent Setter when they hear that exciting voice again.

"Papa!" At the sound of his son‘s voice, Oikawa immediately turns around with a big smile.

Little steps run towards the brunette and Oikawa bends down to his son‘s height to catch him.

Standing up again to his full height, Mathéo smiles widely with closed eyes as he hugs his father‘s neck.

"Mathéo, this is Shōyō Hinata, your pa played with him in Rio when he visited the city. Can you say 'hi'?"

Mathéo turns to the orange-haired Wing Spiker for a second and immediately hides his face in his father‘s neck.

"Sorry about that, got my dashing looks but his mother‘s shy personality." Oikawa chuckles a bit, patting his son lightly on the back.

Hinata walks a bit closer to Oikawa‘s son, being extremely good with kids.

"Mathéo, do you also want to play volleyball when you grow up like your papa?"

Mathéo turns again to look at the orange-haired Opposite Hitter and hides his face partly to look at Hinata while being attached to his father.

"I do." Mathéo whispers out, still wary of the stranger.

"Maybe later on, you can show Shōyō how good you can receive already." Oikawa suggests to his son and he slowly comes out of his shy shell and nods enthusiastically at his father’s words.

"After of course, your amazingly talented dad has beat every single player. Especially Kageyama or the blonde idiot that only ranked second place in Japan‘s best Setter." Oikawa‘s pointy finger booped the tip of Mathéo‘s nose and the little boy squeals in delight.

"Mama said you shouldn’t say those words. They’re mean." Mathéo's face changes immediately again and he scolds his father, who in return just scoffs lightly at the words.

"Mijo, I am just telling you the truth, watch the game and you‘ll see what I mean."

"Okay papa!"

Oikawa farewells Hinata and wishes him good luck.

When the Setter seeks out his wife, he sees her standing by the sides, talking to some of his teammates.

Making his way towards her, he feels a great amount of pride flowing through his system. He’s got a family now and he is ready to show the world what he’s got.

Unbeknownst to Oikawa, lots of looks of glowering eyes follow the Argentinian Setter‘s movements, getting riled up by his words, they are ready to fight.

Let the battle begin.

[kamisama1kiss]

HII can i ask very kindly for a kageyama x iwa’s sister?? They met at kitagawa since theyre in the same year and reader decided to go to karasuno instead of sejioh like her brother. and she is the manager for karasunos team :33

pls and thank you if u do this request 🙏🙏

Awe, I love this 😭🙏 something about the manager trope. Like I would die for it if I could 😝🥛

{Will be using: She/Her/Girl}

~~~

Kageyama Tobio { Always there for each other }

The last year of Kitagawa for the both of them, having established a friendship earlier on in the years of middle school. Which only helped since she had joined the team to be manager, her brother had practically begged her to. "Karasuno? I thought you'd want to go to Sejioh." Questioning the setter which sat next to her in break.

"Well, I've heard a famous coach Ikkei ukai would return to the team. Still not 100% sure, though. " He nodded with hands in his pockets, "Going with Iwaizumi next year." Presuming she would be since the family bond,

"I'd have to see how it goes and such." A light shrug of her shoulder, looking at him as the eye contact was returned for a second before he hurriedly looked away, even a glimst of pink was dusted on his face.

"Well, whatever choice you make, I hope we can still be friends." Coughing in his line, looking around as if the wind was interesting to him.

"Of course." A lined thin smile on her lips, but before anymore could be said, the bell rang for class to start within a little. "Let's get going." A light punch on his shoulder before leaving to class.

It was a surprise when she had hidden what school she got into. It had gotten both Hajime and Tooru upset that she chose another school. Nevertheless, both of them let it go, one a bit longer than the other.

Nothing like that crossed her mind when she waddled down the school hallways, hearing voices in the gym being loud across the open doors. Stopping at the first door to hear the squeaks of shoes on the polished floor.

Someone tapped her shoulder, which made her spin around. "Are you interested?" A beautiful woman asked, having seen her looking into the gym for a while now.

"I uh.. yeah, is there perhaps a manager position open?" The mysterious woman smiled before pushing hair behind her ear, "There is actually. Was about to go looking for one since I'll be leaving next year."

"Come with me." It had been at least a little over a month since school started up again. As she elegantly walked into the gym with the girl following after.

Not long after entering the gym, all eyes we're on her. Sadly, she couldn't find Tobio, but she smiled at the rest of the team politely anyhow. "She will be a part of our manager team." The woman introduced me to them briefly.

"My name is {Name}. Nice to meet you all, I hope to be of help around." Waving with one hand as some smiled and waved back, other greeted back such a guy named Asahi who had been introduced alongside Daichi, Sugawara, and ect.

The gym doors we're sprung open as a familiar figure walked in with a short ginger, seemingly arguing with one another. "Tobio." She mentioned to herself in a whisper.

"Come on, you two, we have gotten a new manger for our team." Daichi, his voice easily booming in the mostly quiet room, but it wouldn't last long before everyone went back to practising.

"Hai!" They spoke in union, turning around to finally notice her. "I am Hinata Shoyo! It's a pleasure to meet you." The short ginger smiled widely at her and reached a hand out for a shake, she accepted and shook it. "The name is Iwaizumi {Name}."

As the interaction went on, then split. Kageyama stood and watched, feeling a sense of relief of having her her. " {Name}? I am glad to see you here." He said to her after Hinata had left off.

"Of course, I couldn't help myself. Plus, I see Iwaizumi at home all the time." Mumbling the explanation to him but pushing it away to smile. "I've missed you." She spoke even quieter than before. After all, they didn't have time to meet up in summer or anything.

He seemed surprised but kind of brushed it off. "No need to be so sentimental." Easily being able to pick up the fact his face had gotten pinker, scuffing before he lightly patted her shoulder and scurried off to practice.

She was left smiling softly, knowing it was his way of being 'kind'. When he went to the team, they all immediately accused them of dating, which he denied with red ears.

"Wow, the king actually got a queen. How surprising." Could be heard from the tall guy named Tsukishima Kei, with a green haired next to him laughing slightly at his words. "Could you shut up for once!?" Kageyama whisper shouted knowingly you could most likely hear it all.

The snow crunched under their feet as they walked. It was the weekend, which meant Kageyama and {Name} had the weekly hangouts yet again at the cosy coffee, which not many people knew of. Luckily.

Holding hands after some convincing from her side, he wasn't the biggest when it came to any sort of affectation no matter who it was. Letting it slide for maybe one or two individuals.

"The snow is only getting more intense." She muttered, looking up at him every now and then again. With only achieving a nod and "Hm, it is."

Raising a brow at his silence but shaking it off as they walked, it was a normal thing now lately. Almost as if he was shy to even mumbled out a proper word most of the time.

"Hey, uh, {Name}" he took a deep breath before stopping in his tracks. Looking at her as his hand squeezed hers lightly. "We've been friends for a while, right?"

His blueberry eyes looked around before meeting hers again, "Yeah, almost 4 years." His actions seemed more raw, genuine, and hesitant. "I've been.. Thinking." Forcing the words out. "We should go on a date." Speaking straightforward after moments of hesitation.

White snow flakes started to fall from the sky with a slow pace, embracing the duo. Her gaze fell to the snow, hand holding, before meeting his eyes. Finally, seeing his pink cheeks almost aluminating in the dark.

Grabbing both of his hands, pulling him closer, "I'd love to." She whispered into the darkness of the world.

~~~

I've loved Kageyama since day one of watching Haikyuu. Hope you all enjoyed reading!! ♡

[mania-sama]

orange juice

Orange Juice - Noah Kahan

➼ information ❧ Haikyuu ❧ Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru ❧ Additional Characters: Hanamaki Takahiro, Hinata Shouyou, Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou ❧ Tags: past alcohol abuse/alcoholism, soft! iwaizumi, athletic trainer! iwaizumi, sobriety, character study, relationship study, past oc character death, minor akaashi keiji/bokuto koutarou, drinking, don't worry about the tags this is mainly soft vibes i promise ❧ Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime hosts a party to celebrate his promotion to working for Team Japan's Men's Volleyball Team. When the party dims and most people have left, he invites Oikawa Tooru over. ❧ Word Count: 2,408 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 15 July 2024

When the rowdy people have left and the house gets quiet and gentle, Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a call.

“Do you want to come over?” He asks softly, one arm wrapping loosely around his middle. “Most people have gone home. There’s…” He pauses. “We have some orange juice left. The kids couldn’t drink the rest. It’s yours if you want.”

Oikawa takes a moment to respond. “I’ll be over in twenty minutes. Want me to bring anything?”

“We’d be happy if it’s just yourself,” he says, and he wishes he could blame the tenderness in his voice on intoxication. 

The orange juice in the main refrigerator is situated with some of his other liquids: almond milk, sweetened tea, and a few bottles of water. There are vegetables in one compartment, and a packet of grapes is haphazardly squished in with his egg carton that’s turned over on its side. It’s been more organized, but parties tend to throw things into disarray. Not only that, but Matsukawa’s kids had clearly been rooting around for his cheese sticks again.

All of the other liquids are in two accessible coolers on the back porch. He didn’t want any of the condensation or melted ice getting on his living room rugs, and besides, most of the guests enjoyed the light decorations and cool air his backyard provided. Thus, where the people were, the drinks followed.

Only four people remain in his house, not including himself. It’s hardly a party anymore, but he knows that doesn’t necessarily matter to Oikawa. Iwaizumi honestly hadn’t fully expected him to accept the invitation. Their conversation about the party beforehand had led to a tentative maybe, and only then if it was nearing the end and everyone was relaxing on the alcohol. Iwaizumi promised him at every invitation and every outing that he would be there in case he felt that the pressure was getting too much, but Oikawa refused each time. And each time, Iwaizumi let him do so without a single complaint.

It wasn’t Iwaizumi’s choice to make. He could only be there for him if Oikawa decided he was ready to try going out again.

He joined the four other men in the living room. Hanamaki is sipping from a beer, but it’s the same one he had an hour ago and still isn’t close to finishing. Bokuto and Akaashi lean on each other on the big coach, with Bokuto spread-limbed to take up as much space as possible. Though Bokuto drank quite a bit, he handles his liquor well and finished his last drink a while back. He keeps animated conversation, but surprisingly, the edges of intoxication seem to be dulling his boisterous tendencies rather than enhancing them. The last of them is Hinata Shouyou, who drinks from his third glass of water and makes the most noise in the room in his conversation with Bokuto.

“Is he coming?” Hanamaki asks, his voice hopeful as he sets his beer to the side. Iwaizumi confirms, and Hanamaki adds: “Good. That’s good.”

And it is good. While Iwaizumi would never judge Oikawa for staying home, that didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t have felt a shimmer of disappointment. This is his celebration party for getting the job for the men’s national volleyball team, after all, and he wants to share part of it with the person who made him fall in love with sports medicine in the first place. He wouldn’t be here without Oikawa, and he doesn’t want to celebrate without him.

Oikawa was the first person he told when he got the good news, obviously. And, obviously, Oikawa immediately sobbed his eyes out. It’s been a long, long journey for them. Even if Iwaizumi teased him relentlessly for his reaction, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel the same torrent of emotions coursing through him that threatened to make his eyes water, too.

Despite all the pride he feels for himself and what he knows Oikawa feels for him, too, they are haunted by the bitter current running under them. Even though they both have worked so hard their entire lives, only one of them has reached his dreams. The other had to quit before he crossed the finish line.

Iwaizumi’s enjoying the company and contributing to the ever-present conversation when Oikawa steps into the living room twenty-five minutes after their call. He’s dressed smartly in a blue blazer, black pants, and the brown-rimmed glasses he hates but Iwaizumi loves. Before he has a chance to greet his new guest, Hinata jumps up to slap Oikawa’s back.

“It’s been forever! Glad you could make it!” He exclaims. It has been forever for Hinata. Their last in-person conversation had been back in Brazil; their correspondence since has been made completely of text messages and Twitter reposts. From the stories he’s heard, he knows that Oikawa was a huge help to Hinata when he was feeling homesick and trodden in South America. Hinata has been trying to meet up again, but their lives were too conflicting until today.

Oikawa laughs lightly. “Congrats on the national team, shrimp,” he says. “Never doubted you for a second.” Hanamaki coughs to mask his scoff, and Oikawa sends him a glare.

He moves to settle on the ground beside Iwaizumi’s feet, resting his back on the arm of the chair. One leg splays out while the other curls into his chest, the metal knee brace making a small, audible click with the movement. Iwaizumi doesn’t pretend to not notice it; he runs his fingertips soothingly over the back of Oikawa’s neck, and Oikawa relaxes marginally.

The conversation is a little stilted and awkward at first, but that’s to be expected. He acclimates quickly to the natural ebb and flow of the conversation once he grasps their dynamics. And though Iwaizumi and Hanamaki make an active effort to steer the conversation, Hinata ends up asking the burning question. His smaller stature makes it harder for him to sober up, regardless of the fact that he’s now on his fourth glass of water. 

“How long have you been sober?”

Iwaizumi is the one who tenses, his fingers stopping where he was absently playing with Oikawa’s collar. Oikawa doesn’t show much of a reaction. He smiles and answers: “A year, as of last month.”

Hinata grins brightly at him. “I’m really proud of you, man.”

“Thank you. It… hasn’t been easy. But, you know,” Oikawa inhales, “I’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge.”

The faint tension breaks under the joke, and their laughs turn back into easy conversation. A few minutes pass. Oikawa slowly pries himself off the ground. “I’m going to get something to drink. My mouth feels like the Gobi desert and my skin will break out if I get dehydrated,” he declares before sauntering to the hallway.

When you have known someone for as long as Iwaizumi and Oikawa have, you develop a kind of sixth sense. They are tuned into each other in a manner that no one else is, as if their nerves are wired to feel the other’s physical and mental receptions rather than their own. There is nothing that outwardly indicates any kind of distress at all. Hanamaki doesn’t even notice anything off until Iwaizumi gets up to follow Oikawa several seconds later. Their eyes meet. Hanamaki raises his eyebrows curiously.

“I’m also thirsty,” Iwaizumi says lamely, not really trying to hide his true intentions. Akaashi kindly asks for a glass of water, and Hanamaki lets him leave without a word.

He finds Oikawa leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything; just opens the refrigerator, pulls out the plastic jug of orange juice, and pours it out into a glass cup. He had set them all out for easy access to the guests. Only five remain.

Oikawa takes the cup when Iwaizumi hands it to him, staring at the orange liquid with a carefully neutral expression before taking a sip. “Thanks,” he says, and it’s nothing like the polite gratitude he gave Hinata when the spiker congratulated his sobriety. It’s two decades’ worth of pain and struggles for an attainable dream, only for it to lead to more pain and shattered goals. It’s the four years he couldn’t go a day without alcohol; it’s the year and one month he hasn’t let a drop grace his lips.

Then Oikawa sets the orange juice on the counter — an open invitation. Iwaizumi steps forward, wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s back and bringing him in close. Oikawa buries his nose into Iwaizumi’s neck, and his heart beats a little too fast; Iwaizumi can feel it against his own chest.

“What is it?” Iwaizumi prods gently, pressing a kiss to the crook between Oikawa’s neck and shoulder.

He doesn’t get an immediate answer, though he doesn’t need one.

Last month wasn’t just the anniversary of Oikawa’s sobriety. It was also the one-year death anniversary of Matsukawa’s wife, killed by a drunk driver.

Matsukawa had been at the party for a little while but had to take his kids home before they missed their bedtimes. He’d wished Iwaizumi well, and Oikawa, too, if he decided to come.

There was no bad blood between them. Oikawa didn’t kill his wife, and Matsukawa doesn’t blame him for struggling with addiction.

Oikawa’s hands tighten on his shirt.

A year and a month ago, Iwaizumi had called Oikawa to deliver the news. He’d been drunk at a bar, which hadn’t surprised Iwaizumi. He had just hoped he had a safe way home. Then Oikawa started cursing out all of the bartenders who’d served him in the past four years. His speech was slurred, and he’d stumbled on his way out of the bar. Into the phone, he swore off alcohol through choked-back tears.

I’m done. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!

A week later, he’d shown up to the funeral with Iwaizumi, completely sober, his hands stuffed into his pockets to hide the tremors.

“You smell like your awful shampoo,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi knows what he’s really saying.

You don’t smell like alcohol.

“Insult my shampoo again and I’m breaking up with you,” he replies with no bite. Oikawa starts to sway them to the slow song playing from Iwaizumi’s speakers.

They are missing a lively conversation. Hinata and Bokuto’s voices rise again, and Hanamaki laughs loudly. “It’s so hard,” Oikawa whispers underneath the laughter and late-night joy.

“When have you ever let that stop you?” Iwaizumi whispers back.

This is the first party Oikawa has been to in a year and one month. He hasn’t allowed himself to be this close to alcohol. He named a certain phenomenon as personal pressure, an intense desire to fit in even when nobody is actually telling him he has to. It’d be worse if someone did try to give him something.

I don’t trust myself to say no, he’d admitted. And I trust you, but. You know.

Iwaizumi hadn’t needed anything more than that. He’d seen the ways Oikawa had skirted authorities while knee-deep in his reliance, the places he’d hidden his bottles, and the lies that had flown from his tongue to keep himself afloat.

Life has a funny way of taking everything good and tearing it to shreds. Oikawa had his career going great for him. In Argentina, he played for a professional team and was working on his citizenship. Iwaizumi was proud and happy for him, even if that meant their friendship would be permanently altered to fit long distance.

They would likely drift apart and make new friends that they could be physically close with all the time. They would find comfort in it, eventually, and no longer be pained by the love they almost had.

Then Oikawa’s knee slid out of place and dashed his career in the blink of an eye. He moved back to Japan before he could complete naturalizing as an Argentinian citizen, and Iwaizumi returned from the United States with his master’s, intent on continuing his grad school education to work as an athletic trainer.

What he found in Japan wasn’t an Oikawa adapting to life as he had during his first knee injury in high school. He found an Oikawa who couldn’t adapt.

He bounced between one job and the next, unable to keep up his work ethic, and gradually moved into worse and worse apartments when rent became too expensive to accommodate his liquid expenses. His liver was failing. His skin was tinting yellow at his extremities and around his eyes. By official standards, he was a functioning alcoholic, but he was not a functioning human being.

Iwaizumi didn’t leave him in that whole time. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were there, too, filling in the gaps where Iwaizumi couldn’t. But nothing changed because Oikawa didn’t register that he and his relationships were being hurt by his actions. If Oikawa was in pain, then nothing mattered. He was used to that one way or another.

Seeing himself behind the wheel, that wheel, was different. It wasn’t himself and those closest to him anymore. It was his best friend’s wife.

Oikawa hadn’t been driving that day, but he could’ve been. He easily could’ve been the one who killed Matsukawa’s wife — a mother of two, a daughter, a friend, a human being. He’d driven drunk before. His plan could’ve been to drive to the park an hour earlier instead of hanging around the bar. He could’ve been the one drifting across the lanes, failing to see or think clearly in the overwhelming daylight. He could’ve been.

A year and a month is a long time. But, Iwaizumi thinks, it’s easier when he has people he can lean on. People he associates with positive experiences and times when all he had to worry about were the concerning amount of confessions he was receiving every week, the English test he couldn’t afford to fail, and whether or not he could beat the next high school volleyball team.

Oikawa shifts to lean his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Iwaizumi affirms, tilting his head up to kiss him on the lips. Oikawa’s wearing Iwaizumi’s favorite chapstick, the kind that tastes like Coca-Cola. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Oikawa exhales, his warm breath tickling Iwaizumi’s face. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[lilypadding]

the komaeda bodypillow

Crossposted on AO3 | Word count: ~3.5k | Credit for divider

⋆ pairing: hajime hinata x nagito komaeda

Summary: Wherein Hajime stresses about Nagito taking longer to wake up from the Neo World Program.

There is a body pillow of Nagito Komaeda. 

Now, Hajime wouldn’t have known that before this afternoon. In fact, he probably would’ve never found out about such an item— or ever had to touch it— or interact with it at all. 

And the idea of living in that blissful ignorance sounds heavenly. But, unfortunately, it’s unattainable. The ignorant world in which Nagito Komaeda’s body pillow goes undiscovered is out of reach for as long as Hajime holds the same pillow in his hands. So, he drops it with a loud:

“Oh my fucking God—“

The pillow lands on the floor of Hajime’s cottage. Makoto and Hina laugh sheepishly on the other end of the video call. 

“Ah, yeah, I figured you’d react like that…” Makoto says, clearly a bit embarrassed.

The palms of Hajime’s hands press into his eyes. He groans, loudly, maybe too loudly, to get his point across.

“What the fuck did I just lay my eyes on?” Hajime’s rhetorical question is pointless. He was hoping for Makoto to deny what he just saw— to somehow clear everything up, to cleanse the air and state that it’s not a fucking body pillow and that Nagito’s goddamn face and body wasn’t on it. 

“It’s a body pillow,” Makoto says instead; Hajime dissipates into himself, “Of Nagito.”

“Why.” Hajime finally lifts his hands off of his own face and stares into the computer screen. His face is burning red by now. He can feel that the pillow is right over his feet and he refuses to offer it a second glance. 

“Well, I mean,” Makoto shrugs heartily and rubs the back of his neck. Hina is sitting to his left, and her grin is undeniably more than amused. 

“I noticed that you’ve been having a hard time,” Makoto finally finishes, and somehow, his sincere smile makes everything feel that much worse, “And I figured you’d like something related to him.”

“And a body pillow was what your bright mind came up with?” Hajime’s face sours considerably. “You could’ve gotten me, like, a photo of him! Or, I-I don’t know! Anything but a…”

He finally looks down. The sight of Nagito— albeit, impressively well drawn— staring up at him with a small grin makes something in his stomach twist uncomfortably. This is downright creepy. 

“Oh my God,” Hajime draws out, grimacing. His pose… 

One of Nagito’s arms is draped over his head, sinking into the drawn lines of the sheets presumably beneath him. His other arm is covering his torso, and why on Earth is the hem of his shirt hiked up to expose part of his stomach—

“Who drew this?” Hajime tears his eyes off the pillow. 

“Oh, Ryota did!” Hina chimes in, her voice fighting off the urge to break into hearty laughter.

She’s clearly having fun. It makes Hajime want the Earth to swallow him whole. 

“Ryota?”

“Oh, yeah, he was a great help!” Makoto smiles, somehow proud of saying it. Somehow proud that he supplied Hajime with something so… questionable. 

“Makoto,” Hajime leans closer to the computer, propping an arm on the table holding it, “This is not a good present.”

Makoto and Hina both break into laughter at that. Hajime’s too busy in the thought of how embarrassing this item is to own, to have, to touch. What if someone finds out about this? 

“Seriously, why…”

“Listen, Hajime,” Makoto’s laughter has let up. The smile he wears is sweet. It makes Hajime want to pound his skull into a wall.

“I know I could’ve gotten you photos of him,” He continues, sincerity seeping out of his words, “But… you can’t do much with photos, y’know? If I gave you photos, all you’d do is stare at them and think too much. I wanted to get you something more tangible. Something you could hold.”

“Aha,” Hajime breaks into laughter, lost in disbelief, “Huh? Tangible? Hold? I- You’re acting like I need emotional support right now…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him. They look at each other. Then back at him.

“O-Okay, fine,” Hajime caves at their looks, “Maybe I do. But, I mean, don’t you think this is—“

He points at the pillow at his feet. They can’t see it from the angle of the webcam, but he refuses to touch it again.

“—Too far? An entire body pillow of him? I mean, you’re acting like I’m obsessed with the guy…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him again. They look at each other again. Then back at him.

“No,” Hajime immediately shuts down, “I’m not obsessed with him.”

“Well…” Makoto and Hina start at a high pitched voice. 

“I’m not!”

“Okay, you’re not,” Makoto agrees weakly, “But you’re clearly concerned about him.”

Hajime scoffs, “I— yeah, who wouldn’t be?”

“Hajime, you visit his pod every morning and night,” Hina says, her voice quiet and concerned. It’s almost condescending. 

“Because I want to be there when he wakes up!” Hajime says like it’s obvious, but his voice sort of dies when he finishes the sentence, “I mean- it’s been—“

“Three months,” Makoto finishes for him. Hajime’s thought process freezes in place. 

Has it really only been three months? Shit… 

“Since Hiyoko woke up, right?” Hina doesn’t ask anyone in particular. Makoto and Hajime nod. 

“And he’s the last one,” Hajime supplies emptily. “I thought he’d wake up a bit after Hiyoko, because everyone woke up within a few weeks of each other, but… nothing. He's still asleep.”

Those last words come out a lot angrier than anticipated. He almost regrets it, but he remembers every time that he’s woken up at odd hours of the night. Every time that the thought of Nagito waking up anytime soon bugged him enough to go down there himself. Every time he’d stared into his sleeping face. And every time he’d fallen asleep while there, slouched in the chair he dragged near the pod. 

It’s been happening a lot more recently. 

He didn’t need to do it. In fact, if Nagito were to wake up, he would be the first person to know. He set up the pod to signal an alarm device, which had been sitting on his nightstand since he made it. Like a baby monitor, but for comatose arsonists. 

Still, the idea of being able to be there right when Nagito opens his eyes is a lot more appealing than seeing him when his eyes have already opened.  

“Hey, cheer up!” Hina calls out, casting Hajime out of his thoughts, “He’s going to wake up, y’know. It’s just a matter of time.”

He almost laughs in her face but his self control proves stronger than expected. Just a matter of time. How many times has he heard that sentence now? How many times has he used it to reassure himself, despite how stupid he felt? 

“Yeah,” He agrees. How many times has he agreed to it anyways?

Hajime looks at the body pillow again. Nagito’s drawn smile is a bit daunting to stare at. But…

“Why did you have to pose him like that…” Hajime scans Nagito’s body. 

Hina giggles as Makoto starts talking:

“Posed like what? He looks like he’s relaxing.”

“He looks like he wants to fuck me,” Hajime argues with a flat voice. Hina goes into a new fit of hysterics while Makoto snorts. 

“Ryota drew him quite accurately, then,” Makoto says. It sends Hina into doubling over.

“What?” Hajime frowns into the computer screen.

“Anyways, if I’m being honest,” Makoto fights through a laugh, “I don’t know. I commissioned Ryota for a body pillow, and that’s what he gave me.”

“D-Do you even know what a body pillow is?” Hajime gapes. Hina finally starts calming down. 

“Um, no,” Makoto admits, scratching his cheek, “I wanted to get you a small plushie of him, actually. But that would’ve taken a lot longer to make, and it’d require resources we don’t have right now.”

“Y-You don’t even know the implications of having a body pillow of someone?” Hajime’s voice raises a few pitches higher than usual. 

“What? I mean, the worst thing you can do to a pillow is hug it…”

Lord. 

“It’s a harmless gift!” Hina insists with a bright smile, “I’m sure you’ll look back at this and laugh. Maybe you can even show it to Nagito once he wakes up!”

“I…” The idea of showing this to the living and breathing Nagito Komaeda is less than appealing. Many, many levels less than appealing. He doesn’t want to imagine how he’d react. Or act. Knowing him, though, he’d probably offer a weirdly knowing smirk to Hajime, teasing him without having to say a word.

God. Even the Nagito in his head is mocking him. Annoying. 

“Wow, did I break you?” Hina leans into the screen, her voice more prominent, “You’re red.”

“No!” Hajime fumbles and waves his hands, denying her, “I just thought of something.”

Hina seems unimpressed by the excuse as Makoto begins talking again.

“Well, we’ll let you go,” He says with a smile, “A meeting is coming up, and me and Hina both have to be there. We just wanted to quickly check in on you.”

“And get me to react to the worst gift ever…”

“Man, I hope you don’t hate me,” Makoto rubs the back of his neck, an embarrassed blush sprawling on his face. “Well, we’ll check in next week, okay?”

“Yeah!” Hina chirps up, “See you then, Haji!”

“Mhm.”

“Have fun with the pillow!” She sing-songs, and before Hajime can let out a stuttering mess of protesting syllables, the call ends and their faces disappear. 

A sick and nervous feeling rides up his stomach as he processes the call.

Shame explodes in his chest when he looks down at the body pillow again.

Nagito Komaeda, animated, and posed a little too languidly stares up at nothing in particular. It’s hard to look at his face, because he’s grinning in a weirdly flirty way and he’s lively and it’s the last kind of expression that Hajime wants to see on a drawing of someone that’s been in a coma for a little too long. So, Hajime tries to stare at his chest instead. As if it made the idea of picking him up off the floor any easier. 

Christ. It’s just a pillow. 

Hajime kneels on the ground and grabs the top corners of it, hauling it up in his arms. The end of the pillow shuffles the lengthy box on the floor that it had been delivered in, knocking it on its side with a miserable flop. Holding it like this, the top of the pillow is just about level with his height, and the bottom barely scrapes the ground. Life size.

Disgusting. But just a pillow.

Hajime can’t shake the tense feeling of hugging it to his chest in this way. Like he’s admitting defeat and accepting the fact that this is fine in any way. As if hugging the incarnate pillow version of Komaeda is socially acceptable. The idea of anyone finding out he owns this crosses his mind and sends a cold breeze down his spine. He should throw it away. Any sensible person would. 

But it was a gift from Makoto. Albeit, misguided and naive. It would be rude to burn something… heartfelt. 

With a dissatisfied huff, Hajime twists in his place and makes his way to his bed— halting the second that his eyes catch his reflection in his full length mirror across the room. 

“What the—”

He hadn’t seen the other side of the pillow until now. It’d been facedown on the ground for the entire video call, and its existence had gone completely unnoticed. But it’s hard to disregard when it is staring back at him from the mirror. 

Hajime hurriedly pushes the pillow away from him, maintaining it at arm’s length and flipping it around. When the sight hasn’t disappeared and is instead staring back at him, his jaw drops. 

On this side, there’s a shift in Nagito’s pose. His head is turned to one side, offering a clear view of a side profile, an undeniable red flush drawn over his face. One of his hands is pressed over his mouth and cheek, palm facing up, as if defensively covering himself. His other arm is in a similar position to the first version of him, but his shirt is hiked up higher, leaving room for his pale hand to rest on his exposed torso. Hajime freezes at the sight, unable to move. Discomfort flickers in Hajime’s chest and his eyes avert the image immediately. Hajime’s stomach flips nervously and he rushes to flip the pillow around, refusing to give the drawing a second look. 

Seeing Nagito in any state like that felt wrong. Even if it was some drawing. 

Drawing. Ryota really had to draw all that, didn’t he?

-

“Well, n-no, I didn’t,” Ryota is fumbling over his words, his voice soft enough to nearly go unheard. He’s fidgeting with his own fingers, unable to maintain proper eye contact with Hajime. For brief moments in time, his hands find the tweed sweater he’s wearing only to pick at it.

Hajime sighs through his nose, looking around them. They’re walking near the pool of the hotel lobby, right after Ryota had joined the group for breakfast. Everyone had peppered him with questions about his life at Future Foundation, the conversation keeping a semblance of politeness. 

Words and mentions about the killing school life and high school memories went mostly unspoken, even now. Everyone’s voices always hesitate before bringing it up, and the conversations about it always end so quickly that it’s like they never started. So, they welcome their former classmate with open arms, infinitely opting for the positives instead of the past they can’t erase. 

After everyone finished their meals, they had scattered and pawned off private conversations with Ryota as if he were a valuable item, Hajime finally got to claim some time with him for himself by trailing after him from the diner. 

Ryota didn’t seem to mind at all— that is, until Hajime was glaring at him, refusing to let up. And Ryota didn’t have to ask why. 

“Then why did you have to draw him like— like that?” Hajime mutters in a low voice, despite the fact that the pool area was empty and bare, and no one was around to eavesdrop. Ryota stops in his tracks and spins around, his eyes drooping and stance slouching. The bright sun beats down on them, clouds having barely parted from the morning rain. 

“Listen, I was really weirded out with the commission at first,” Ryota replies, his voice still trembling, eyes darting. Wind picks up around them and Ryota’s hair flips into his face. “But who was I to question it? Makoto said he wanted a body pillow, so I complied.”

“Okay, well, didn’t he tell you it was for me?”

“Um, no, not until I finished drawing it…”

Hajime laughs, exasperated, facepalming with both hands. 

“Listen!” Ryota hurries the words out of him, “I offered to redraw it. I really did. But Makoto looked at it himself and said it was fine.”

“What?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, he kind of laughed, but said that it works fine. I even asked him if he’s shown the work-in-progress to you. When he said it was for you, I thought you’d commissioned it—”

“Why would you assume that?!”

“Makoto didn’t clarify that you didn’t know about until he shipped it out! I thought you wanted one, like, for real.”

“I— No! I never— Why— Why would I—”

“I don’t know!” Ryota protests, his shoulders hiking up, “I didn’t question it, okay? It’s just a commission. A weird one, but I’ve drawn weirder, so it really didn’t matter.”

“D-Didn’t you feel even weirder knowing this is a real person? That you’ve talked to before?”

“Uh, I tried not to think about that. Seriously, though, it’s not that weird.”

A new voice joins: “What’s weird?”

“Gah—!” Hajime jolts and spins around, hurriedly backing away. “S-Soda.”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Yes, a million times, yes.

“No. Not at all.”

Fuck.

“Cool,” Soda grins happily, “What were you guys talking about? Some weird thing?”

Hajime’s heart sinks to his stomach. 

“Ah—”

“It’s just about a commission I made for Hajime,” Ryota says, far too casually, way too easily. Hajime shoots him a death glare. Ryota crumbles in on himself at the look, and starts stuttering,

“I-I mean, it’s—”

“A commission!” Soda pronounces, clearly impressed, “Man, I really wanna see more of your art.”

He turns to Hajime, his pink hair swaying, and asks: “What’d you commission him for?”

Hajime freezes. And is probably visibility deflating. 

“Oh. It’s— nothing, really—”

“Just a pillow.”

Ryota. 

“A pillow?” Soda gives the two of them a deeply confused frown, but focuses on Ryota, “Um, I thought you did animations and drawings, that sorta shit.”

“I-I made some artwork for a pillow.”

“It’s really nothing!” Hajime yells despite himself. Ryota and Soda both stare at him as he fumbles, fighting to continue. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Hajime can’t look them in the eyes, “I just found his drawings calming, and— I thought it might help me get more sleep at night, if his art was��� in front of me…”

The excuse dissipates into the air, vaporizing alongside Hajime’s weakened voice. He clears his throat when both of them don’t say anything.

Soda walks up to him, but Hajime keeps his eyes away, trained on the ground.

A warm hand meets his shoulder, and Hajime has to force himself to look up. 

“You haven’t been able to sleep well, huh?” Soda’s face is genuinely compassionate and concerned. Hajime jerks at the sincerity, shrinking in on himself, a rise of embarrassment clouding his mind. 

“Yeah,” Soda nods slowly, his voice quiet. He stays silent for a second before tightening his hold on Hajime’s shoulder, reconnecting their gaze. 

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Hajime feels frozen in place by the intensity of the eye contact, but manages a feeble nod regardless. 

Soda smiles softly and nods, letting go of him and saying:

“You’ve been having some trouble with Nagito, right?”

“Huh?” 

“When he’s gonna wake up,” Soda supplies, shrugging easily, “Well, at this rate, if he’s going to wake up.”

Hajime swallows a lump in his throat.

“Ah, sorry,” Soda forces a smile, “I shouldn’t say that. Actually, you shouldn’t even worry about it! He has ultimate luck, after all. So he’s sure to wake up. Well, unless it’s luckier not to wake up from the dream he’s having…”

Hajime blinks at Soda. 

Soda blinks at Hajime. 

“I’m not helping, am I?” Soda says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Hajime can’t bring himself to respond. 

“Shit, man, sorry,” Soda winces at himself, “Don’t give such a sad look! Cheer up. He’ll wake up. I mean, all of us woke up. He just has more—”

“Mental instability,” Hajime emptily chants. The words have been used to describe Komaeda’s state (and the reason for remaining in the pod for so long) so often that they’ve drilled a permanent stop in Hajime’s head. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Soda mutters, shaking his head, “Plus, his—”

“Health complications,” Hajime emptily fills in again, “I know.”

“Hey, c’mon!” Soda nudges Hajime’s side. He winces at the hard touch, but Soda continues, “You’ve said that if he wakes up, there’s a chance his body’ll be better! That’s something to look forward to, huh?”

Hajime stares at him. Soda is acting impossibly optimistic.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hajime nods, clearly not assured of himself. Soda takes it anyways. 

“Right on!” Soda grins, clearly satisfied. Soda turns to Ryota and shoots him a grin while Hajime recuperates, having realized Ryota had been there the entire time. 

“Well, I’m off,” Soda announces, throwing up his hands and beginning to walk off, “I’ll talk to you later, Hajime!”

Hajime nods at him shortly, unable to get his voice to work, before returning his attention to Ryota. 

Ryota stares at him, offering absolutely no reaction for the conversation that just occurred. But it looked like he was forcing himself not to react, which was slightly annoying. 

Hajime takes a breath, tosses a glance at Soda’s retreating figure, and looks back at Ryota. 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Hajime asks. 

“U-Um, what do you mean?”

“The way that I worry about Nagito,” Hajime immediately regrets the word worry, “Everyone’s acting like I’m obsessed with him or something.”

Ryota blinks at him. “Well…”

“Oh my God,” Hajime shakes his head, exasperation slapping him across the face. “You guys- You guys are impossible. Just because I care about the guy. Unlike everyone else, apparently. Just because I’m worried for him, I’m obsessed with him, right?”

He begins to walk away with a final, “Don’t bother answering that.”

Ryota doesn’t reply or follow Hajime back to his cottage. 

[buffkitties]

Hajime Hinata... The character that is one of the most complex, yet he is reduced to nothing but a boring protagonist. It's quite ironic, isn't it?

A morally grey, reckless, and disturbed character behind the mask of a protagonist. Overlooked precisely because you play as him, and despite being him, somehow people do not look at his perspective at all.

Hanging out with people who say red flags, thinking, and saying red flags himself, admitting to himself that he was not above violence or murdering someone, and that he felt like there was a part of him that would do anything to leave the island.

Dependant on others, matching people's energy, not strictly in a positive way, drawn and attracted to Nagito Komaeda of all people, weak personality that bends under stronger personalities.

Becoming Izuru Kamukura, lacking in self-worth, yearning for things bigger than himself.

...A small summary of it anyway.

Hinata makes me sad when I think about him and the life he threw away for something like talent. Out of desire to become something, he, a nobody, became the embodiment of talent itself, losing himself in the process—quite literally. With his memories gone and everything that made him who he was, he became a shell of himself with undoubted issues with dissociation and depersonalisation.

From a plain, mundane life to a life that was supposed to be extraordinary, yet left him feeling unsatisfied all the time and lacking stimulation because nothing interested or entertained him anymore. Locked away in a room without a purpose except to serve one... something that he would be given as the tool he had been made. Manipulated into throwing the world into despair, and although he knew he was being used, he still allowed it because it was better than being in that room again without a purpose and because he wanted to find a bit of pleasure.

He was taken advantage of by the very school he idolised and craved to attend because they knew how badly he wanted to mean something and how he admired hope and talent. They took that dream, and they turned him into a lab rat, erasing clear traces of him while they used the money from the fee he paid to get into the school for that very experimentation.

He's tragic, even. Not just sad.

Bad self-worth, barely even acknowledged—most likely, not even by his parents, who signed the consent form on the project, given how he turned out and acted around others. Praise, compliments, being seen, all those concepts were pretty much foreign to him. Instead, his life had a lot more bullying and disturbing events. He most likely didn't have many friends, if he had any, and he even seemed embarrassed by the idea of friends and didn't occupy his mind with that concept too much.

The only friends he made had died.

In fact, the death of his only friend in the reserve course was what pushed him over the limit in the first place. He was hesitant, and he didn't seem that thrilled by the idea of joining the project, even leaning more towards declining. That, however, made something in him snap. That, being denied the ability to walk in, and then getting beaten up for simply wanting to know the truth. By the time he dismissed Nanami, his mind was already made up. He was not stable. His decision was reckless and done on a whim in the wrong state of mind. Impulsive.

He's a really beautiful and meaningful character to me. There is so much to him that I can't even fit in multiple long posts... Even if these are the obvious, I just think that many people don't care about it or pay attention to it—or him in general.

I'm very happy he was able to choose a future for himself in the end, with everybody else, living on their own terms and accepting everything, moving on and healing.

I wish he could have had an easier life. I know everything that I could possibly know about him, or so I assume, yet I never fail to find him interesting and great.

[1loer]

@polaroid-steam-room : 'Something with Imposter and Nagito, maybe talking about identity stuff? At least I’d feel like it’d make for a unique and kinda comforting convo between the two! Ok this ended up way less comforting than you probably wanted I'm sorry AHGUAEGHUEG m(__)m. I do want to explore that type of conversation with them post canon, buuuut i want to save it for a later date hehe :3c but! I still thought they could've had an interesting dynamic in game, especially in the first chapter. I realised its kind of weird Imposter didn't see through Komaeda's ruse, all things considered, so explored that instead. I hope it still sort of hits what u wanted!!!!!!!! thank u for suggesting these two. Getting into Imposter's head and thinking about them a bit more seriously was acc rlly fun!! <3 I hope u like it <3

There was comfort in control. 

Maybe that comfort was the reason they chose to wear someone as commanding and imperious as the Ultimate Affluent Progeny. 

Komaeda Nagito was a nebulous personality. Most of the others had been easy to read from the second they said ‘hi’. Even someone like Hinata Hajime, who had forgotten so much more about himself than the rest of them had, was an open and well-worn book to them. They could’ve perfected his presentation in a second, even without knowledge on what his talent was. But Komaeda had been a bit more difficult than that. He was elusive, keeping to himself if he wasn’t keeping to Hinata’s side. 

Normally, unless completely necessary, they wouldn’t bother themselves with trying to untangle a knot as tightly wound as someone like Komaeda. But, with this whole ridiculous mess of a so-called ‘killing game’ they’d been unwillingly entered into…Well, you need a knot to tie a noose. 

Komaeda stood off to the side, leaning against a wall, seemingly content to watch the party pass him by. Every now and again, they’d catch his eye twitch towards a table at the back of the room, next to where he stood. It seemed habitual; protective. The way someone would keep watch of their belongings they left at their table at a cafe when they went up to the bar to order. 

Again, perhaps in any other situation, they wouldn’t find reason to worry over something so unobtrusive. But from what they could see, there was no reason Komaeda should be so pre-occupied with an empty table. In a situation like this, quirks like that were the most important to keep on top of. 

“Komaeda, have you eaten?”

Komaeda acted surprised, even though there was no way he couldn’t have noticed their approach. Muggy eyes wide and blinking clear as they quickly snatched away from that empty table once more.  

“Oh, hello Togami!” He smiled gently, and tittered a laugh, “Of course I’ve eaten! How could I pass up the opportunity to try food made for us by an Ultimate like Hanamura?” 

They held out a plate towards Komaeda, so filled with food it was a strain to hold with just one hand, “Have another plate, you need it.” 

If his back wasn’t already backed against a wall, they were sure Komaeda would’ve taken a step back, “I’m okay, really!” he pleaded, hands up in polite rejection. 

“It wasn’t a request.” 

They shoved the plate into Komaeda’s chest, and on instinct he grabbed it. He regarded it tentatively, an awkwardly stiff tilt in his shoulders. 

“Ah, Koizumi was right. You really are forceful.” He laughed lightly, relaxing a little. Togami wouldn’t react to such a pointless statement, so neither did they. Then, with a tilt of his head, the brightness that on the surface seemed characteristic to Komaeda returned, “But I guess it is to be expected of such a capable leader.” 

But Komaeda’s brightness was just that. Surface level. He was good at it. Obviously very practised at it. He wasn’t surprised that no one else seemed to have noticed. Even Togami, they were certain, wouldn’t have noticed. Togami would find him distasteful, annoying, and someone so completely not worth his time that even finding these two words to describe him would be more effort than Togami would believe he deserved. 

In any other circumstance, he would’ve stuck to his guns with this characterisation. If he let his own beliefs and intuition bleed into his act, it would reveal the act for what it was. If there was one thing, they could confidently say about themselves, it was that they were good at what they did. The fact that even Hope’s Peak had figured them out to bestow them the title ‘Ultimate Imposter’ was shocking. But he supposed that only spoke to the capabilities of an academy like Hope’s Peak. But this was simply something he just couldn’t ignore. 

They would be the first to admit that they had been out of character. If faced with this same situation, they were certain that the real Togami’s actions would have been exactly opposite of their own. Togami was ruthless, selfish, cold, and above all else, a horrible loser and an even worse winner. To someone like Togami, the only thing that really mattered as much as his family’s name was winning. Togami’s, historically, didn’t lose. The Togami heir would not be the end of that streak. No, the real Togami in this situation would be the exact person Monokuma would want in his game, because Togami would play to win, and would not take even a second to care for the people in the game with him. 

But they just couldn’t sit comfortably in that role. Despite what he knew of Togami, he couldn’t in good faith look these people in their eyes, people that were supposed to be his classmates, all just as confused and lost and scared as they were and tell them that he would throw them all under the bus if it meant getting off this island and getting back to his work. 

Luckily for them, for what they and the rest of their class could remember, none of them knew Togami Byakuya. So, none of them would question their motives for trying so hard to keep all of them safe. After all, when all was said and done, could they really claim the title Ultimate Imposter if they couldn’t even perform a personality out of character in a convincing way? 

“Fat is important to keep you alive. In stressful situations like this, eating well is especially important. I don’t want you dying for a reason as pathetic as malnutrition, especially not while I am your leader.” 

Komaeda chuckled amicably in place of a response, and accepted the plate completely, giving it another nervous once over. They treated him much the same, their eyes scanning him from the toe of his scuffed brown leather shoes (subtly expensive, understated and unnoticeable if you didn’t know what you were looking at) to the tip of the unruly, curly white mop of his hair (unnatural and unhealthy. All the more so when you caught sight of the pale, blushing, strawberry blonde that lingered in the crook of his neck). 

“Plus,” They started, folding their arms. Komaeda stared at him innocently, “It must take up a lot of energy, keeping up this facade you’re performing.” 

Komaeda tripped; Togami smirked. 

He recovered quickly, in the blink of an eye, smiling awkwardly and titling his head with a disarming curiosity, but they didn’t miss the stiffness that returned in his shoulders, 

“Ah, pardon?” 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Togami replied, cool and just slightly irritated. Then, that harsh, blunt cover fell back, and they looked away, “It's not an issue. I understand. More than you’d know.” 

Surprisingly, Komaeda actually seemed to back down a little, his guard dropping an inch, his smile turning wiry, “...I’m not so sure about that.” 

Despite themselves, they felt themself responding much the same. 

The more they thought about it, the more his facade made sense. They thought back to the confident way he tried to speak, the way he shakingly grabbed at the attention of his peers, his grip as perfect and practised as a baby grabbing for its favourite toy. That is to say, it was cack-handed and clumsy, and landed poorly every single time. They thought of how easily he sunk back from Saionji’s remarks, how he accepted them without protest. In those moments, he seemed much more comfortable than any other time they’d seen him. Then there was his attachment to Hinata, someone who, through no fault of his own, was the only true outcast amongst their group. With no idea of what his talent was, Hinata was, unfortunately, a bit lost amongst the rest of them. Who, with nothing else to hold onto, at least had the confidence of knowing who they were, what their role was. Komaeda was optimistic, friendly, and agreeable, even when he probably really shouldn’t have been, and seemed to care very deeply about how he came off to everyone around him. The effort he put in to clean this room for this party at such short notice was evidence enough of that. It was the only time they had seen him nearly brag about something he’d done or speak even close to positively about himself. He was meek and quiet, and overall, just seemed…

Lonely. 

Well, that was something they certainly could understand. 

“There is comfort in hiding yourself.” They replied, their eyes scanning across the room, checking in on the people happily enjoying the party around them. Oowari and Mioda were being a bit too rowdy and getting shouted at for it by Saionji (Hinata watched them from the sides, laughing a little at what they were doing, but not too much. Maybe he’d have to talk to him about all this as well), “The person I present myself as is never usually the person I really am inside, if I was completely truthful.” Their eyes spared a passing glance at Komaeda. The intense, unblinking stare he levelled them with was unsettling. Togami didn’t feel it, and held it back, just as insistent, “It’s a useful strategy for business. It keeps you separated from your work, makes sure you don’t take anything too personally so you can focus on one, clear goal. The total and complete domination of the Togami Industry, above all others.” 

Komaeda blinked widely, his heavy stare not really seeing Togami, before it drifted off to the side, “I suppose.” Then, he was back, bright and chipper, “I can see why the Togami company has historically done so well. You’re going to do amazing, once you inherit it.” 

“I know that well enough.” He shot back dismissively, then they relented, softening once more, “But…It’s not easy. The price you pay for that safety is…You can never truly get close to someone.” 

They hoped the weight of their stare matched the weight of their words, really made what they were trying to say, as Togami may say it, sink in. 

“...What a lonely life.” Komaeda said wistfully. For a moment, his bright eyes turned cloudy, his smile dropped. Like white noise, it was only when it was gone that they really realised how present it usually was. Then, once it returned, it stood out more than it ever had.  

Komaeda understood. They wished they could feel better about that fact. They felt their heart ache, just a little. Even if they had guessed as much, it was another thing to see their suspicions confirmed. Along with the sympathy came a spike of guilt they tried desperately to shake. They tried to remind themselves that they had to treat everyone with a level of suspicion. That is what Togami would do. The logical, clinical response to a situation so incredibly illogical, and what they needed to do to make sure everyone survived. But the guilt persisted, in spite of this logic. Komaeda had been higher than most on their watchlist, nearly higher than even Hinata, (who was the most suspicious out of all of them) only because of his closed off, peculiar demeanour. To suspect someone, just because they were a bit awkward, a bit unconfident, a bit…Different. Maybe it was what Togami would’ve done, but it didn’t make them feel any better about it. 

“‘Lonely’ is a pathetic word to describe the feeling.” Togami replied coldly. He locked eyes with Komaeda, and he shifted under his stare, “It’s a living hell.” They replied, a truth in their words so deep and unnatural to Togami, that for a small second, they felt uncertain. It was enough that, despite what he wanted, what Togami wanted, they broke eye contact first. It was dangerous, a little too far. Something in Komaeda’s face changed, and they quickly shifted gears. Togami closed his eyes, and smirked with a confidence they didn’t feel, “If you really wish to see these bonds between us all come to fruition as you say, perhaps it’s something you should consider.” 

That piercing look, stripping them like a nail through orange peel, disappeared. They felt it lift like a physical weight. Once it was gone, it was like it was never there in the first place. Komaeda smiled prettily, a slight glimpse of his white teeth peeking through, as he apologised, 

“Thank you for your concern, Togami. I’m sorry I made you worry.” 

Togami scoffed, “Don’t be stupid.” He scolded him, looking at him down his nose. Komaeda lowered his head, laughing quietly, and the control fell comfortably back into Togami’s hands. It was relieving. It made them stand on his feet a little steadier. 

“Ah, of course. I overstepped there, how lame of me.” Komaeda sighed. Then, a hard, serious look grew on his face, much more serious than was needed, “No, you’re absolutely right. I completely understand. It is exactly as you said it.” Komaeda looked at him, but it was…Different. Something disquieting sat in their stomach, like a small stray piece of burning shrapnel. A splinter that broke under their skin as it was recklessly pulled free. “In the end, above all else, your end goal must be your main focus, and you must be whoever you need to be to see that goal through to its glorious end.” 

Komaeda’s voice was the same as it ever was, breathy and light. But something was…wrong. Something undetectable, he couldn’t put his finger on it. He just knew something wasn’t right. Carbon dioxide. Silent, odourless. Deadly. 

The alarm blared in their head, a niggling beep they couldn’t ignore. 

“...And what is your goal exactly?” They asked. Years of practice kept Togami’s voice solid, portrayed none of the uncertainty they felt underneath his skin. 

Komaeda smiled. The beeping persisted. 

Togami didn’t flinch in the face of intimidation, so he didn’t swallow the nerves that built in the back of their throat.

“To see everyone here working together to make their hope shine brightly.”

Komaeda’s smile didn’t waver. The bright spark in their eye didn’t dim, and no matter how hard they pried, nothing budged. Everything stayed solid, real, genuine. 

So why did it all feel so…Wrong? 

“Hm…” 

That guilt they felt from before resurfaced. What had Komaeda really done to make them suspect him so harshly? Komaeda had been nothing but kind, nothing but helpful, and in his own, solid, truthful words, stated his plan was the exact same as their own. Komaeda had shown himself as nothing but their ally, supported their idea from the start, even while everyone else had cast doubt over it. Now they were suspecting him, because he smiled a bit weirdly? Because his stare was unsettling? Because he was a bit…Different? 

The circumstances were getting to him. This suspicion, distrust with no basis, was exactly what Monokuma wanted. Togami wouldn’t play into the hands of someone like Monokuma. He’d win on his own terms. They were inclined to agree. 

If there was someone to suspect, it just made this whole awful mess easier. With a place to point their finger, they’d know how to act, know how to win, know how to keep everyone safe.  

They changed the batteries in the alarm. Pushed the button to reset. The alarm stopped. They pretended it made them feel better. 

Togami huffed a laugh, and they turned away, with one final command, “Eat. You need fat on your bones. The island wind will blow you away.” 

“Yessir!” Komaeda replied playfully, his eyes scrunching handsomely as he giggled. 

Together they’d stand, divided they’d fall. That was the real truth at the centre of all this mess. It was what they needed to hold onto, in the face of everything else. Despite what Togami may want, they were not going to let any of them turn into murderers. 

There was comfort in control. But they would not let that comfort make a fool out of them.

[causeitsagame]

Fic: Aquila (6/8)

Pairing: Hajime Hinata/Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

Author: @miggylol

Notes: HOPE Y'ALL LIKE TALKING

Previous Chapters: in the tag.

Excerpt: All of those conclusions ran rapid-fire through Kazuichi's eyes, and he further relaxed. "Huh. Well, gotta say that this is a big surprise, man."

"You're telling me," Hajime said dryly. "His first reaction was to get pissed off at me about it."

-----

The next morning at breakfast, Hajime tried not to be obvious as he studied Kazuichi. Sonia would easily notice such an appraisal, while Akane would ignore anything short of a bullhorn against her ear while she ate. Kazuichi fell somewhere between those extremes, but unfortunately, Hajime wasn't quite sure where.

At least Kazuichi hadn't resented Hajime moving over to the cottages, thanks to a brief excuse of not wanting to leave Fuyuhiko out there alone. All of them knew far, far better than to say this out loud, but Fuyuhiko would be the least able to extract himself if some collapse, earthquake, or other crisis left him trapped. He might have as much raw determination as the rest of them combined, but determination alone couldn't lift a toppled tree.

At those few words of explanation, Kazuichi nodded knowingly and said nothing more. If Fuyuhiko insisted on going off somewhere, then at least he would tolerate Hajime's presence while throwing one of his anti-social fits. That was a good compromise until Fuyuhiko stopped stalking around like an angry cat and was once again willing to rejoin the group.

The cover story worked, but the ruse did leave Hajime feeling a little guilty. The excuse Hajime had given wasn't really a lie, but eventually, continuing down this path would result in straight-up twisting the truth. That, he wasn't willing to do.

Even so, while Kazuichi was a good and enthusiastic friend, he was…

Hajime paused to consider what label to use.

Kazuichi was reactive. Fuyuhiko was the one whose body might work against him if a crisis erupted, but it was Kazuichi who was the most likely to fall emotionally apart, by far. Hajime and Fuyuhiko pairing off might earn well-wishes from him, for all they knew! But it could also trigger a spiral of self-doubt where Kazuichi looked at the survivors, counted up the odd number of their small group, and then obsessed over every harsh rejection Sonia had ever given him.

"You keep looking over there," Fuyuhiko muttered as he worked at an orange's peel. "Going to tell him?"

"I know we'd talked about just staying private for a while," Hajime murmured back as he also reached for one, "but it feels different now that Sonia knows."

As if she'd somehow heard them, Sonia smiled knowingly from her nearby table. Perhaps they were leaning in a bit too close.

"Yeah," Fuyuhiko admitted. "Fine. Let's get it done."

Hajime nodded, but settled in for a real breakfast, first. According to Sonia's stated plan, the other three were headed back to the fifth island, while he and Fuyuhiko had another day of work ahead of them here. He'd need some calories in him.

"Okay, let's do it," he eventually whispered, and stood. Fuyuhiko followed suit, and went over to catch Akane by the arm before she could rush off to the dock.

Almost immediately, Hajime heard Akane say, "Oh, huh. Is that all? Sure, whatever." That easy? Dammit, Fuyuhiko knew what he'd been doing by claiming the girls as his targets.

"Hey, Kazuichi," Hajime said, and also caught Kazuichi by the elbow before he could head for the boat. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, man. What's up?"

"It's, uh…" Aware of Akane studying him, clearly about to comment on the situation, Hajime pulled Kazuichi into a nearby hallway. Its walls were lined with faded, yellowed posters about the musical act that was making a three-month visit to the islands, advertisements for businesses over in the second island's charming village, and encouragement to take advantage of the world-class room service menu. A small framed sign reminded them that reservations were recommended for the restaurant.

"Seriously," Kazuichi said once they were alone. Unfortunately, he was tilting visibly toward concern. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Me and Fuyuhiko got to talking, and we might…" Hajime shrugged, striving for casual.

"…Stay out there?" Kazuichi prompted in the silence. "You both said the cottages are a lot nicer. If you want to bother redoing the roofs—or managed to find some good ones—then hey, more power to you! Maybe I can try to get those electric carts up and running, huh? That way, you wouldn't have to keep walking back and forth." A grin erupted, and he leaned in with an amused, conspiratorial whisper. "Or you could just run him here and back. Ha! I just pictured his face if you offered to carry him."

"Ha, yeah, probably best to avoid that," Hajime weakly chuckled, and tried not to flash back to Fuyuhiko's proximity-versus-strength test from the day before. It'd be unfortunate if he started blushing here in the hallway. "Maybe we will stay. They are actually a lot nicer. But mostly, I wanted to mention that he and I…"

Kazuichi waited as Hajime fell back into silence, and popped his eyebrows up to prompt him to continue.

Wow, Hajime apparently did not have any Ultimate Tell Your Friend That You're Well On The Way To Hooking Up With Another Friend in his quiver of talents. After a moment of thought, he held up two fingers like he was making a peace sign. "He and I are thinking that we might want to be…" The fingers crossed. "…He and I, y'know?"

"Huh?" A moment later, clarity struck, and Kazuichi blinked and shook his head like a dog throwing off water. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah." Again, Hajime strove for casual, like this was a typical romantic pairing instead of forty percent of their known universe changing the social rules.

Kazuichi stared back at him in continued befuddlement. Then, unfortunately, he slid into worry as he turned to look toward the hall of hotel rooms. His stricken expression clearly said that he was recalling the wealth of other hotel options and homes left by previous residents.

Would Akane soon want to relocate to the second island that had been most popular with American tourists, to take advantage of its protected swimming areas and climbing cliffs? Would Sonia relocate to the elegant sprawl of the fourth's island top-end resort? Had Hajime and Fuyuhiko moving out and pairing off only been the first step in everyone choosing a path that led directly away from him?

Now for this, Hajime did have talents to draw upon. He silently thanked the therapist and psychologist at the back of his mind for putting labels onto all of those shifting emotions. Rather than acknowledge Kazuichi's deepening worry, he lightly continued, "Weirdly, it happened after a dream I had. I—well, Izuru, but it felt like me—was watching him lead a fight against the Foundation. We talked about it, afterwards. And got to talking about other things."

That was technically a lie, but Hajime didn't mind bending the truth of the timeline if it made Kazuichi feel better. As he'd suspected, it did work. Weirdly. But it worked.

Kazuichi worked through that, nodding slowly, and calmed down as he assigned deeper meaning to Hajime's words. It wasn't that people were finding better options than him; it was that Kazuichi Souda was, against all odds, actually the one in a better position. And he hardly ever got to experience that.

Hajime had been Hope's Peak's world-shattering triumph, and then the mastermind behind very nearly bringing back Junko Enoshima. Fuyuhiko had been at the head of armies that ruthlessly brought cities to their knees before putting bullets into civilians' heads. Kazuichi had certainly brought his own horror to the world, with all the devices he'd made for manufacturing Monokuma robots and helmets, or performing executions, or detonating dirty bombs across European cities. But his guilt had a slightly different feeling than theirs, for Kazuichi had always been following someone else's orders. Hajime and Fuyuhiko's memories had no such padding, as slight as it was.

If they'd formed a connection based on that recalled bone-deep regret, then it was understandable. It was a good thing to support each other, even. All of those conclusions ran rapid-fire through Kazuichi's eyes, and he further relaxed. "Huh. Well, gotta say that this is a big surprise, man."

"You're telling me," Hajime said dryly. "His first reaction was to get pissed off at me about it."

"Hah!" Kazuichi covered his mouth as soon as he'd barked out the laugh, and looked with continued amusement toward the restaurant door. "Is it wrong to wish you good luck?"

"Yes," Hajime said flatly, instinctively wanting to come to Fuyuhiko's defense. But then he paused, and couldn't help but say, "Thanks."

Kazuichi's grin held a few seconds more, then ebbed a bit. "So, is this, like, serious?"

"I don't know," Hajime admitted with a laugh. "I have zero idea. I know that I can wake the pods up, but not when, exactly. It would actually be nice to have those electric carts handy, but I don't know if it's worth clearing the trails for them, yet. And I know that I'm… I'm something with him, now, but I don't know what the label is. I really don't know these things. Believe it or not, that's actually a nice feeling to have."

Kazuichi's grin turned lopsided and softer, and he reached forward to clap his friend on the shoulder. The contact left him looking speculatively at Hajime, then at the doorway to the restaurant. If Hajime had to guess, Kazuichi's brain was reclassifying the number of romantic options on the island, rapid-fire.

Hajime held up his crossed fingers again. "Me and Fuyuhiko, remember? Literally just started something?"

Kazuichi stepped back. "Right, congrats! Hey, I'd better get to the boat, okay? Sonia and Akane are probably waiting for me." The girls' names brought that speculative glint back to his eyes, and Hajime said a silent prayer that all of them would return from the fifth island with no drama. The two of them adding romance to the equation really might have changed things.

Once the other three were headed for the dock, and it was once again time to focus on animal control, Fuyuhiko shot a hopeful look toward Hajime. "So? How'd it go? He looked like he was in a good enough mood heading out, but…"

Hajime nodded. "Yep." He paused for the length of a few steps, then carefully phrased, "He even wished us good luck."

"Hey, there's something." Fuyuhiko grinned. "Obviously, Akane didn't give two shits. Like I expected."

"Yeah, I noticed you grabbed the easier people," Hajime laughed, and lightly elbowed him. "You owe me."

"I owe you? You could've grabbed the girls before I did! Not my fault you don't know how to negotiate."

"You owe me," Hajime repeated. "I'm making you catch the first animal before I start working."

"Lazy ass," Fuyuhiko grumbled, and went off in search of a rope. "I'm not starting with the fucking chickens."

Hours later, they'd located several favored grazing spots and managed to relocate more than a dozen goats. The animals complained while they were being led, but now they happily grazed, or investigated a barn that their mothers and grandmothers had long abandoned. "So," Fuyuhiko wondered as they studied the ranch. "What do you do with goats, exactly?"

"Do?"

"It's not really like you eat them like the chickens, yeah?"

"Of course you can," Hajime idly mused, running through recipes in his mind for appetizers, entrees, and dessert. "Braised, curried, stewed. And with some fruit, honey, and goat cheese, we could—" He paused, then corrected himself. "No cheese." At least, not for Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko nodded, his mood improving after Hajime remembered that without being prompted. But then it plummeted, for his gaze shifted to the adjoining coop, now repaired and ready to once again hold a flock.

"Let's go catch some fucking chickens," Hajime prompted with amusement.

"They shit everywhere, you know," Fuyuhiko complained as they walked toward their next task. "All across the hotel sidewalks, all over the island. That's my biggest problem with them."

"I know. So you've said. Repeatedly."

That earned a sharp sidelong look. With a wry smile, Hajime shut up.

Ahh.

Romance.

At dinner that night, it felt rather like they were zoo specimens. Sonia and Kazuichi studied them openly with every bite, while Akane also made no secret of her curiosity whenever she reloaded her plate. "So," Hajime prompted, very deliberately. "Did you find anything at the police dock?"

"We did," Sonia nodded, but kept looking between Fuyuhiko and Hajime as she spoke. "They're set up for scanning for boats in distress out in international waters. We'll be able to track any approaching vessels from quite a long range, once the power supply is back there."

"That's good to hear," Fuyuhiko agreed, and speared a wedge of melon. "Stop staring at us."

Sonia obligingly focused on her plate.

"You too, Souda."

Kazuichi tried to act like he wasn't staring, and did a piss-poor job of it.

They'd calm down soon enough, Hajime told himself, and shoveled in some rice taken from the restaurant's stockpiles. (Across all six islands, he estimated that there was enough rice to last a group of fifteen people approximately eight hundred and fifty-seven years, if everyone consumed it with every meal.) This was the most exciting change for their group since Hajime confirmed that he had a strategy for waking up the pods, and it was no wonder that they were the center of attention.

It was still annoying, though, and so it was a relief when dinner ended and they could escape back to what they'd decided was home. "I sure hope we picked the right cottages," Fuyuhiko muttered as they sped their pace. Heavy clouds had begun to roll in overhead.

"We should be. I didn't notice any water damage on the floor from other storms." Still, those clouds were heavy and swollen, and so low that it looked like they might be able to reach up and touch them. Hajime's first instinct was to set off running to beat the storm. His second instinct was to offer to scoop Fuyuhiko up, as Kazuichi had laughingly suggested. He thankfully fought back both instincts, and they made it to the cottages with minutes to spare.

"Good luck," Hajime laughingly told Fuyuhiko as they each reached for their cottage door, three doors down from the other.

"Good luck," Fuyuhiko wryly echoed, and stepped inside.

When the rain started, Hajime held his breath for long, purposeful stretches, waiting to hear any traitorous plink-plink-plinks that would warn him he'd made the wrong cottage choice. None came. He slowly walked through the cottage's expansive footprint, lingering in a reading nook across from a wall-mounted television, and then in a small breakfast alcove, and finally before a small lounging deck above the water.

A glass door led to that small deck. For a while, Hajime watched the rain through it. There was no lightning, so thunder wouldn't wake him. The wind howled, though; they'd want to check the roofs again once the storm passed.

He wondered how long it'd take until rain on a tropical island stopped feeling out of place. For all that perpetual sun had felt suspicious while inside the simulation, it was pleasantly easy to get used to. Ah well, Hajime thought, and turned for his bed. (Across the islands, they'd located several thousand sets of bed linens. It'd be a lot of laundry to do, eventually.) Storms would refill the reservoir tanks.

With the sound of rain soothing him, Hajime flicked the overhead light switch conveniently placed next to the bed, and let the noises steer him toward sleep.

"Hey."

Hajime blinked awake, some minutes or hours later. Pressure gripped his chest as he struggled to see anything. After a few long moments, with effort, he could barely make out Fuyuhiko's silhouette at the cottage door. There didn't seem to be any rain behind him, now, but what scant light there was must have to fight its way through thick clouds.

His heart beat more freely as he focused on the shadow Fuyuhiko made against that backdrop. On most days, Hajime honestly could handle his years-ago memories, but he never did well when it felt like he'd woken back up into blindness. "Hey. What's up?"

"I thought about how it was even darker, tonight. I didn't know if it'd be a problem. And if there was a problem, I thought maybe it'd help if…"

Hajime bit down hard and didn't point out that he hadn't noticed how dark it was until he'd been woken up. "Yeah. Thanks. You didn't have to, but thanks."

"So, hmm, let me just…" Fuyuhiko murmured to himself as he walked carefully into the cottage, trailing his hand against the far wall for guidance as he went. The door automatically swung shut behind him and even the faint glow from outside vanished.

Memories reared up and clawed deeply into Hajime's mind, whispering that he was back there. He was fading. He was alone. But light soon erupted, and Hajime instinctively threw an arm over his eyes before he processed that it wasn't bright enough to hurt.

A lamp would keep him awake if it were close, but Fuyuhiko had cleverly chosen a small one around a corner, near the door that led out to the deck. Its light reflected dimly off the walls, and showed up over in the bedroom as only a faint golden glow like a faded memory of the sun. That was enough, though; when Hajime looked around, he immediately saw where he was. "Good idea," he admitted. "I should have thought of that."

Fuyuhiko nodded as he walked back to the sleeping area, unconcerned. "I did the same thing, at first."

"At first?" Here on the real island?

"After this," Fuyuhiko clarified, and gestured to the heavy scarring over his useless right eye. He'd left his eyepatch in his own cottage, but Hajime hadn't paid any mind to the injury until he pointed to it. "Heh. Should clarify that, I guess: after the second time I lost it." He grinned wickedly. "Losing an eye from the same socket three time's gotta be a world record, right?"

"Must be," Hajime agreed with dark amusement. At least it apparently wasn't a source of trauma, by now.

"Anyway," Fuyuhiko continued, slouching comfortably into an armchair next to Hajime's bed. "I couldn't see for shit, at first. My brain still expected to be seeing out of an eye that wasn't there, and so it was…" He trailed off and sat in silence. When he continued, his good eye directed enormous sympathy toward Hajime. "And so it was dark. Not all the way, but a lot darker than it should be."

Hajime nodded back, and found himself relaxing into the mattress. No, it wasn't the same thing, but it was a surprisingly strong relief to be understood even halfway.

"So, I left a low light on overnight in the bathroom," Fuyuhiko continued. "You remember how they had those glass walls? Wish I'd been able to turn it down even further, but it worked. It felt weird to be sleeping with a nightlight, but in case I needed to get up, I didn't want to trip into something and rip this back open." His thumb drew a line low across his stomach. "It worked for me, then, so I thought it might work for you."

"It's a lot better, thanks. Seriously, I should have thought of that." For all of the knowledge and abilities that had been forced into him, an ingrained social norm of 'only kids sleep with a light on' was apparently too strong to overcome. Hajime needed to get over that. There wasn't reason to follow everyone else's expectations, any more.

Silence took over. In it, Fuyuhiko's words echoed. When his stomach had just been stitched up, huh? Hajime frowned against his pillow in thought. That meant that Fuyuhiko had been struggling inside his cottage, feeling like he'd lost even more than half his vision… when Hajime had been completely alone with him at Hotel Mirai. Just like the two of them now. Huh.

Slowly, Hajime pieced together memories and really considered the aftermath of Peko's execution like he hadn't, before. Fuyuhiko had been left dying in front of them, drowning and choking on his own blood. They'd all been so caught up in adrenaline and fear that Hajime never really thought that deeply about what was happening to someone who still felt like a stranger.

"Hey. Fuyuhiko?"

"Yeah?"

Hajime hesitated before asking, "Tell me if you don't want to think about this, but… do you remember what happened when you got rushed to the hospital?"

A slight smirk edged Fuyuhiko's voice. "Which time?"

That put a smile on Hajime, too. "The first one."

"Yeah, I do. Not as well as the second time, but yeah." As he spoke, Fuyuhiko's voice sobered. "It was just me and him in that fucked-up hospital, and he was… laughing." Shuddering, Fuyuhiko rubbed his arms and looked surprised by the strength of his recollection. "That bear's fucking laugh. You remember it, right?"

"Right. Of course."

"I couldn't move at all, by that point. He said he needed to sew up some internal bleeding, and he…" Troubled, Fuyuhiko folded in on himself more. "He… twisted. Warped. I didn't understand what I was seeing, and probably thought it was just my brain dying off with the rest of me. But after what we learned at the end, I guess it must have been the Junko A.I. flickering in, a little."

Hajime frowned, picturing some horrific Monokuma/Junko monster looming over a barely conscious Fuyuhiko. "How do you mean?"

"He needed fingers to hold the scalpel. And after he warped… there were fingers. It looked." Fuyuhiko struggled for the word. "Wrong. Not that I could pay much attention to how that damn bear looked, but when I make myself think back on it, it was like I was being operated on by some glitch. Some hole in reality."

Hajime shifted uneasily. Scalpels had been mentioned, but no anesthesia. He didn't want to clarify. "Sorry for asking. Looking back on it now, I suppose I assumed he'd just… edited your code to not be dying, any more."

"Maybe he did that, too. But you know that sadistic prick would never give up the chance to slice someone open when he's got an excuse to do so. He'd want to hear them hurting." Fuyuhiko's gaze grew even more distant, and he looked suddenly, agonizingly sad. "I hope Nekomaru wasn't awake."

"Oh. Shit. Yeah."

"He couldn't have been," Fuyuhiko decided, though it sounded more like he was convincing himself. "Think about how the guy didn't have a care in the world, afterward. There's no way he would've been like that if he remembered that fucking bear ripping out all his body parts, one by one. He… he wasn't awake. There's no way. No way."

Whatever awful memories he'd earned on Monokuma's operating table now seemed irrelevant. Fuyuhiko's expression warped further for Nekomaru's imagined mutilation than it ever had for his own surgeries. Eventually, he laughed weakly and rubbed at his reddened eye. "You pick some dark fuckin' topics to focus on when you're trying to fall asleep, you know. That probably doesn't help things."

"Sorry." Hajime smiled lopsidedly at him. "You mentioning your stomach got me thinking, and… and this sounds really selfish," he admitted. "But it was easier to worry about what you went through. It was something else to think about."

"Easier to think about someone else," Fuyuhiko quietly echoed, and still sounded shaken by picturing whatever hell had happened to Nekomaru Nidai. Maybe, after everything, it felt wrong to worry about themselves. But at least they could still worry about each other.

They sat for another good while in silence, until Fuyuhiko stood abruptly up. "I'm talking about something else," he decided, and surprised Hajime by taking the far side of the bed. "And I'm talking," he repeated emphatically as he stretched out against the mattress.

Hajime let the brighter tone carry him back toward smiling. "We're not outside, now," he pointed out.

Fuyuhiko propped himself up enough to shoot Hajime a disbelieving look. "No, we're not outside, but what kinda fucked-up mood just got set? Anyway, I'm gonna talk, and you're gonna focus on my story and worry about me, until you fall back asleep."

"Okay," Hajime said uncertainly. Worrying about Fuyuhiko didn't sound like a good way to give him a restful night, but it seemed like a plan was in place.

"Kinkaku-ji," Fuyuhiko began. "One of the temples in Kyoto. You know it, right?"

"Never been there, but by name, yeah."

"Well, my parents decided that Natsumi and I needed to appreciate our cultural heritage. Or whatever. They were big on that. So, off we went to Kyoto, to see all the temples and watch all the people."

"And you were…"

"Four." Fuyuhiko laughed once. "So yeah, I didn't give a shit about anything I was seeing. We were at Kinkaku-ji when I started running around to burn off some energy, and fell hard against a stone staircase. Hard. Ripped the skin open down to the kneecap."

Hajime grimaced. "Ow."

"I was probably screaming loud enough to wake the dead. So I get rushed to the nearest hospital, and here's the thing: my parents had always told me not to trust any doctor I didn't know. Because otherwise, someone could dress up like a doctor and shoot you up with something, or convince you to go off with them, y'know?"

"Sure. I guess." That had certainly not been a concern in Hajime's own childhood, but he supposed it made some sense for Fuyuhiko's.

"So anyway, I'm screaming my fucking head off, and then a doctor that I don't know comes in to take a look at me." Fuyuhiko laughed at the memory. The warm, pleasant sound washed over Hajime and he felt himself smiling, too. "And so I grab a tongue depressor and try to stab him with it."

A laugh burst through Hajime's drowsiness. "A tongue depressor? One of those round sticks?"

"Yeah." Fuyuhiko laughed again. "It was handy to grab, but it didn't work very well."

"No kidding."

"So… that meant I just had to keep trying, obviously."

The imagined visual of a barely-out-of-toddlerhood, blood-drenched Fuyuhiko going absolutely ham with a tongue depressor on some bewildered doctor brought actual tears to Hajime's eyes. "Oh my God."

"They had to pin me down," Fuyuhiko proudly added. "And I never had to go back to another temple."

"I seriously don't even know how to respond." Hajime smiled up at the ceiling, noting how the dim light etched shadows around all of its beams and planks. It was good to have something to focus on. His gaze wandered downward, and Hajime sleepily amended: it was good to have someone. "Got any other stories?"

Fuyuhiko looked over to him and smiled, then began a calmer tale. "So I had this dog, once…"

Soon, Hajime realized that he'd missed a couple of words. Then, half of them. His breathing steadied and he slowly sank into calm, deep nothing. Memories stayed blessedly quiet as sleep took him, for the trauma that marked Hajime expected him to be alone.

By morning, the clouds were gone.

[kmhnsecretexchange]

Title: Just as the sun rises, we’ll meet again

Author: Hipster71elmWeebtrash (1queer-bookworm on tumblr)

For: shinakiham_soup

Pairings/Characters: Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Hajime Hinata x Nagito Komaeda

Rating/Warnings: General, no warnings.

Prompt: Fanfic: DR3 despair arc - what-if scenario detailing how Komaeda and Hinata could’ve met in a version of despair arc where Chiaki doesn’t exist

Author’s notes: Here you go! I chose your what-if alternate meeting scenario and may have taken some liberties…it became a little bit more like a meet-cute. But I hope you like it anyway, it was a very fun prompt to play with!

It is an odd time of day: the early hours of the morning.

While it is true that the night has its grasp on the body, burdening the limbs and clouding the head. Thoughts then gain the tendency to sink, allowing the gravity of them to linger and rake over every inch of oneself: leaving only the bright and buoyant to remain unnoticed. This is but a fraction of its grandeur.

For, once the weight of midnight has been thoroughly dusted off and the phantom of dawn is imposed onto the gloomy canvas of the sky: all is well and truly tranquil. At such a time, it’s likely for one to witness those billions of static lights dim as they’re steadily eclipsed by the rise of the glorious sun and its all-consuming brilliance.

And as humanity is wont to do, most miss it all. Catching but a glimpse of what it means to see all fall into despondency, then ascend with the silent constant that accompanies all light.

If one were to witness it as Komaeda has, then perhaps they might genuinely understand the true power of Hope.

-read more line-

Yet, even this despairful fact can be momentarily eclipsed by a stroke of fortune.

One such, is the enviable reality that the academy’s library is open at all hours of the day, allowing Komaeda to have the odd pleasant morning.

This, admittedly, wasn’t the prettiest daybreak. The sky was a firm wall of somber storm clouds that both hid any hint of light and threatened to rain at a moment’s notice. A perfect recipe for the typical melancholic day, the scent of petrichor at one’s doorstep, the chill of a dim sky and the inability to know for certain if the sun had ever risen at all.

It was all for the best, really, although it may superficially appear as a stroke of bad luck. For, Komaeda could have the reassurance that his misfortune could harm no-one but himself, the nonsensical hour and daunting sky detering all reasonable people.

If it were the middle of the day, the simple task of both stepping outside and entering the library would’ve surely wrought disaster. He can picture the dismay as the sunny skies are swallowed by a great wave of cumulonimbus clouds and the panic as the shelves rattled.

Though, nevermind the hypothetical dooms, Komaeda had been given a book recommendation and he was determined to find it. 

It was a collection of papers by a fairly modern astronomer: Nevermind had described it as both a rewarding and engaging read. A suggestion he was inclined to pursue.

Komaeda could admit that his urge was in part duty and curiosity. He wasn’t well-read in matters of physics or cosmologie as it hadn’t been an interest of his Father’s and thus, the closest approximation to it on the shelves of his home had been philosophical texts. 

That all meant that the words of the book’s title meant very little to him, presently. And there was, of course, no staff present that could aid him. As such Komaeda was left with nothing but a title and a vague sense of an author with which to comb the hundreds of shelves.

His dedication eventually leads to a touch of luck, the book appearing in the corner of his left eye, exactly at eye-level. It’s a tome, rather, wrapped in an emerald leather binding and its font appearing a tasteful copper.

Komaeda reaches towards it mindlessly, his body twisting to follow the movement purely as an afterthought and as his fingers graze the spine- his hand jolts as it collides with something notably softer than leather.

There is the briefest moment in which his hand lingers on the spine, his ring finger brushing right against the other’s index and their hands remain still. Another’s hand, just as bruised and just as unsteady and yet- sturdier, calluses and the odd speck of dirt under their alarmingly uneven nails. Nothing but the distant sound of the rumbling sky that often preceded thunder to prove that time hadn’t simply- stopped.

Then, their eyes meet. 

And Komaeda is immediately struck with the thought that this is an idiot.

An idiot with handsome green eyes. An idiot with tousled dark hair, short bangs thrown askew. An idiot who didn’t sleep well -if at all- and was hardly ever awake enough to take notice of the violet under his eyes. An idiot who lacked any sense and threw himself into conflict, seen by the scabs on his chin and the mottling bruise the size of a fist, on his cheek. An idiot who didn’t dress for the weather and left the house in a suit…A black suit. A familiar black suit.

…an idiot reserve course student.

Komaeda quickly snatches the book, slapping the reserve’s greedy hand away in the process.

“Hey- what the hell!” The idiot cradles his hand and has the gall to look offended. “I need that for class!”

“Well, you can’t expect me to really believe that a reserve course student could deserve this more than an Ultimate, someone with the capacity to actually create Hope in the world.” Komaeda answers smartly. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me-” The reserve’s frown forms easily, anger seeping into every crease of his face in an instant. “You’re so full of yourself it’s absurd! You don’t even have a reason! I actually need this book and you just-” He flounders. “Want it!”

Without so much as the decency to surrender his turn to speak, the fool continues with an air of mockery. “And what’s your talent anyway? The Ultimate Astronomer? Oh yeah, I remember now, you’re the luck guy. Well I don’t know how reading Burnell’s observations could help with that” He then stupidly adds, “or hope. So if you think I’m just going to stand here and let you-”

“You reserve course students are nothing but a plague, taking resource after resource without thought-”

“Oh, right.” The reserve interrupts him callously. “The people who actually pay to be here have no right to use anything on Campus-!”

Komaeda scoffs. “How small minded of you, it really is typical of a reserve course student to consider only the selfish option- no thought of sharing or relinquishing it to its rightful-”

 “Well,” The reserve mutters, his eyes widened by the mere thought. “I-I guess we could share it…”

Any and all of Komaeda’s ire is swept away with a single exhale, the reserve’s offer registering in his mind. “…I suppose we could, theoretically, both use it…” Komaeda relents, pressured by the fragile sense of sincerity that occupied the meager space between them. Although he can’t quite muster the ability to imagine what he’s proposing. “…simultaneously.”

The reserve course student simply stares at him in response, his eyes occasionally lowering to the book he supposedly requires. Komaeda breaks the silence. “You do know what simultaneously means, or do I have to explain that to you?” 

The frown is back. “How stupid do you think-” He stops himself and takes a deep breath, his -admittedly dapper- suit rising and falling in sync with the motion. “Okay, sure. That-that works. I shouldn’t need it for more than a few hours, anyway.”

Komaeda, still with a firm grip on the hulky book, starts towards the library’s common area and the reserve course student easily falls into step beside him. Neither rushing or meandering.

Komaeda ventures to ask, the tables not yet in sight. “What exactly do you need this for anyhow…you…” He meets the boy’s eyes, “I wouldn’t have guessed that astronomy would be a hot commodity for people like you.”

“It’s Hinata to you,” He quips, then he begins blabbering on. “And well, if you really want to know, this is for my astronomy thesis. I wanted to reference the initial notes made on the pulsar and compare it to the language used in today’s observational astronomy, maybe cite a few passages if it fits with my outline.”

Hinata then proceeds to give an entire spiel on what Komaeda can only rationalize as the death of stars and the telescopes, using far too many terms without relinquishing their definitions and presumedly with the assumption that Komaeda was well-versed in the subject already.

Hinata finishes with a dramatic sweep of the hands. “This is one of the only copies in the world with Burnell’s actual, unedited thoughts on the whole thing! Even the very first recorded use of the term pulsar! I couldn’t not include it!”

There’s an unmistakable passion underlying his rant, an earnestness that not even his unpleasant attitude could mask. It was clear in the faint flush of his sole pale cheek; the way his pace had started to match his as he’d lost himself in exuberant explanation.

 “So…” Komaeda averts his eyes. “you’re looking to become a researcher?”

There was something agonizing about that image. The image of this boy  -just as brash and just as stubborn-, poring over calculations, agonizing over theories, and spending his nights peering into the night sky through a million lenses. All just for a chance at uncovering the truths of the universe and giving humanity a fighting chance in the unending struggle for purpose.

…an image void of hope (as any featuring a reserve course student would) and yet, inexplicably brimming with it.

Hinata then grows uncharacteristically quiet, his previous enthusiasm suddenly dashed, until at last he says. “…I don’t think I’ve got much of a chance at that…it’s one thing to like the class and another to-”

Hinata stops, sheepishness giving way to a dawning optimism. “Well, I guess I could be, now, in a sense…” He shakes his head. “Whatever, even if it’s a hard class, that’s no reason not to try your best and try to have a little fun with it.”

Then predictably making far too many assumptions, Hinata asks. “What’s so weird about it? Do you Ultimates not write papers?”

“Well of course they do! Ultimate Students are constantly conducting research for the betterment of the world!”

“I don’t need the sermon- it was a rhetorical question you know.”

Komaeda huffs at the pitiful excuse. “Regardless of your intentions, to have the sheer audacity to imply that the Ultimate students could neglect their duties and stoop to a virtue as hopeless as sloth! You forget yourself and- your place!” Hinata’s scowl returns with a vengeance. “Although I don’t necessarily have first hand experience-”

 “Wait, you haven’t written a paper? Not even a memoir- I heard that was all the rage on your side of things!” 

“Well,” Komaeda sputters. “why exactly would anyone write about something as worthless as me?”

“You said your talent was luck, right? Who wouldn’t- of course I’d want to read about that! The fact that you can actually quantify your luck enough to call it a talent is interesting enough.” And he’d seemed so certain of that fact, that Komaeda was forced to agree, although he’d have argued that it wouldn’t be educational or worthwhile, if that were relevant. 

Once the two of them arrive at the muster of tables, Komeada finds himself strangely content with allowing Hinata to pick two chairs and unwilling to voice any protest when they find that to properly share it they must sit chair to chair, thigh to thigh.

Thus, the morning begins not with sunlight, but with the faint glow of the chandeliers overhead and the counterfeit warmth of fingers nearing just enough to turn a page. The hours creep up until it’s nearly time for classes to begin for the day, leaving no room for any further procrastination. 

Just as they’re about to part ways, however, just as Komaeda opens the door- it is only then that it begins to pour. Not the pathetic trickle of hours ago, but a true downpour that could easily drown a rat. Not the kind of rain that either of them could properly see in, nor escape without irremediably drenching every inch of clothing.

There’s a moment in which they both look at one another and realize that neither of them have an umbrella. Komaeda closes the door.

Hinata starts, glancing between him and the entrance. “So…I guess we’ve got to make a run for it…”

 “Well, at least the journey isn’t very far at all.”

Hinata’s expression shares nothing but melancholy. “It’s a ten minute walk. For me…”

“Oh…right.” Luckily, at that very moment there’s a crash and a decent sized umbrella rolls to Komaeda’s feet.

 “Huh, that’s convenient…” Hinata hesitantly suggests, tripping over his words. “I guess we should probably- I mean…” 

“That would be…logical…” 

And so…they do. They walk into the rain, side by side, under an umbrella that happens to be just the right size to shelter them both if they walk exactly shoulder to shoulder. Hinata’s forearm is strangely warm and if Komaeda were to turn his head, he might brush his cheek.

Then, not a minute into the journey, he hears Hinata’s voice. “…I think we will see each other again.”

Suddenly, Komaeda feels terribly self-conscious about the terrible weather. “Hopefully in better circumstances.”

 “Oh, it will be. Everything will be better.”

[thestarswillmournourlove]

Oops, You Died! ver. 1

Hajime Hinata

“Oh god no, please, please no-” The second Hajime recognized you, on the floor and covered in blood, it felt like everything froze. He couldn’t believe it; he didn’t want to believe it, but there you were, unmoving, just the same as he was.  He needed to move.  Whatever haze he had briefly found himself in was quickly shaken off as he dashed forward, trying to get to you as soon as possible.  Seeing you up close like this, he realized just how bad your injuries were. You had suffered before you died, it seemed, and the fact that he wasn’t there to do anything made his whole chest hurt.  He reached out and pulled you close to him, close enough to make sure nothing else could happen, when you stirred and groaned, the sudden movement jostling your wounds. “Wait, wait wait, you’re-!” Against all odds, a small fragment of hope began to burn in his chest: you were alive. You were alive, and that meant that maybe you could be saved.  But what could he do? He was still just a reserve course student with no talent to speak of, he couldn’t help you, he couldn’t stop the pain, he couldn’t do anything. It was at times like these where Hajime really wished he was someone else, anyone else, anyone who wasn’t so useless, who could actually help when it really mattered. Then he realized that even if he couldn’t do anything, there was someone here that could. There was only a brief moment between you first moving and his call for his brother. He felt like a kid again, like when he fell and scraped his knee and the first person he thought to call was Izuru, when he wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to ask for help, when things like ‘talent’ and ‘ultimates’ didn’t matter; maybe it’s because right now, all that mattered was making sure you were okay. To his credit, Izuru was quick: of course he was. After seeing the slight movement you made, he was already trying to figure out if anything could be done. Being able to see you up close, though, would definitely speed up the process.  As his twin checked you over, Hajime had pulled you a bit closer, resting your head against his heart. You weakly try to call his name, only to end up coughing up a bit more blood. “Hey, don’t--just hold on, alright? Anything you want to say, there’ll be plenty of time later, okay? Just focus on staying awake for me, please.” His voice was shaking, and you could tell he was only just barely holding it together for your sake. You tried to shake your head: you knew you’d die here, you just had to say goodbye. “She won’t make it.” You knew that, but Hajime didn’t. Hearing it said out loud, with such certainty, that small glimmer of hope was immediately stamped out. “What do you--that’s not right, that can’t be right, you--Izuru, do something! Please!” “There’s nothing I can do. She’s lost so much blood, it’s impressive she’s even alive right now.” Maybe in other circumstances, Hajime would have chided his twin for being so blunt, but all he could think of right now was the fact that you were dying, here in his arms, and nothing could be done. His attention snapped back to you when you shifted a bit in his arms. He reached a hand out, gently brushing some stray hairs out of your face, as if the slightest touch would snap whatever threads you were holding on by. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I’m sorry I can’t do anything, I’m--” He had been crying since the moment he saw you, but now he did nothing to stop them, letting them flow freely. His sentences, punctuated by broken sobs, were jumbled apologies and pleas. You called his name again, so quietly you were almost surprised he heard you. “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here, I’m--I’m listening, okay?” “...love you. I love you. Always. Remember…for me, yeah?” With great effort and what strength you had left, you spoke as clearly as you could. As soon as the words were said, you could feel the relief flooding your aching body: you had done it. You managed to hang on, just long enough. No longer needing to prolong the inevitable, you felt your body relax into his hold, eyes closing as you felt the darkness begin to take its gentle hold. Your hearing faded slowly, letting you hear his response, while the weakness in your body left you unable to reply. “I love you too, always, I promise, my sweetheart, my--” You went limp in his hold, and he just knew that you were gone. He felt cold. He was still holding you, still cradling you in his arms, as he sat there, quiet. His classmates are holding it together remarkably well, perhaps for his sake, and one of them takes a step forward, hand outreached to try and comfort him. “Hajime-” “Shut up! Shut up, stay away!” He held you closer, shielding your body with his: he couldn’t let anything else happen to you. Someone here had killed you, so as far as he was concerned, everyone here was a threat.  He may not have a talent, but there was something he could do now: investigate.  He was going to figure out who killed you, even if he had to do it on his own.

Outside, a stray bolt of lightning hit the sand, immortalizing the moment in a glass sculpture as electricity tore across the sky. 

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Family - Nagito/Hajime Fic

Prompt: Meeting the Family

Prompt from: @yearoftheotpevent

Media: Danganronpa

Genres: Non-despair AU, no talents AU (???), all three mainline games (+UDG) exist in the same universe, Hope's Peak is just a normal high school, pre-established relationship, fluff (?), nerds being nerds (ig)

Characters: Nagito Komeada, Hajime Hinata, Rantaro Amani, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Makoto Naegi (mentioned), Komaru Naegi (mentioned), Kaede Akamatsu (mentioned), unnamed parents of Nagito, Hajime, Makoto, and Komaru

Pairing(s): Hajime/Nagito, Makoto/Taka (implied)

CW/TW - Brief mentions of Nagito's backstory, implied adultery & divorce

Other Notes: wow my first danganronpa fic and it's komahina. I usually try to do rarepairs for these monthly challenges but I saw the prompt and the story had been laid out before me I just had too </3 (I'll do some more dr rarepairs in the future).

this is entirely based off of me seeing Rantaro's sprites and going "wow you look like you could be related to Nagito!"

I also have yet to beat drv3 so uhh if Rantaro's characterization is weird that is why olol

Word Count - 3888

“Hajime, would you like to meet him?”

“I’m sorry?” The wind tossed around the fallen yellow leaves carelessly, the trees swaying gently. The hot air trapped the humidity in Hajime’s clothes, and he felt at least five degrees warmer than he should’ve. It wasn’t as hot compared to the summer months, but sitting out in the sun still seemed to cook him alive. His clothes weren’t particularly heavy, especially compared to Nagito’s, but he seemed to be sweating like crazy. …It probably didn’t help that he was sitting directly in the sun, when all of the shade seemed to conveniently cover Nagito perfectly. How did he even survive in the summer heat with that heavy green coat of his?

Hajime made a point to sit as far away from Nagito on the bench as possible, not wanting to be smothered by said coat. The humidity killed any chance of Hajime allowing Nagito to get near him at all. Although, that didn’t stop Nagito from trying. Without properly scooting over, Nagito leaned to his left, his hand slowly crawling over to Hajime’s. With a heavy sigh, Hajime complied, his tan fingers intertwining with Nagito’s. They were both a little sweaty, but in this heat? That was just fine. It was an oddly serene moment, something they hadn’t had in a while. And, much to Hajime’s surprise, Nagito was being relatively normal about it all!

At least, until he asked that odd question. “Him? Who is him?”

Nagito smiled, a facial expression Hajime was familiar with. Even though his gray eyes were soft, Hajime knew better than to believe that he was about to say something even remotely sane. 

“I’ve just been thinking…” Not a good sign. “We’ve been dating for a while, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I think it’s about time that you met my family. That’s what couples do, I think.”

“What family?” Hajime asked before he could stop himself, an eyebrow rising. Last time he checked, Nagito was an orphan.

“Haha, ouch Hajime!” Nagito chuckled to himself, holding his hands up to his chest. “Although I don’t blame you for thinking that, it’s my fault you got the wrong idea about my family situation…”

With a soft hum, Nagito thought for a bit, a hand going up to his chin. Hajime could almost see the lightbulb appear over his head as he let go of Hajime’s hand. He shifted around in his pockets for a moment before pulling out his phone. Hajime scooted a little closer, leaning in as Nagito pulled up a photo.

“Who is that?”

“My brother. He’s the only other family I have left!” Nagito said it with such conviction that it was difficult to remember how heartbreaking it was. The photo was dated about three months ago, in the middle of the summer. Nagito and his brother, little brother, Hajime assumed, were in front of a store that Hajime didn’t recognize. Maybe it was out of town somewhere? Regardless, the other man in the image was nearly a splitting image of Nagito, or, perhaps more accurately, their parents. There were some obvious differences, sure. That was to be expected with siblings, but these two were similar in ways that Hajime didn’t even expect.

For starters, they had the same smile. In just a simple photo, Hajime could see the same curt smile that Nagito had on his little brother. That smile drove him nuts, as he could never tell what exactly Nagito was feeling at any given time. He couldn’t believe it was genetic. He almost had the mind to wonder which parent gave it to the both of them, before disregarding the thought. His little brother had light green hair, perhaps it was dyed? Hajime wasn’t sure. His hair had the same texture that Nagito’s did, albeit being much shorter and more controlled. His bangs were swept to the left side of his face.

“His name is Rantaro.” Nagito said, watching Hajime’s face as he looked over the image. Hajime’s eyes landed on the multiple piercings in his ears. There was one in his lobe and five along the outside cartilage. “He did all those piercings himself! I said that we had the money for him to get them done professionally, but he didn’t want to do that. Isn’t he so cool?”

“Rantaro?” Hajime asked, sitting up as Nagito slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Like, Rantaro Amani? Same guy?”

“Yup. Same guy. He took our mother’s maiden name when she passed. But according to the law he’s Rantaro Komaeda.” Nagito looked up into the sky, smiling to himself. “I’m excited to introduce you to him. Unless, you’ve already…?”

Hajime shook his head, leaning forward on the bench in an attempt to get some airflow between his shirt and sweaty skin. “I’ve seen him around but we’ve never officially talked.” He nudged Nagito with his elbow. “I can’t believe Rantaro is your brother. He’s really popular, you know.”

“I do know, Hajime!” Nagito grabbed Hajime by his shoulders, gripping onto him tightly. Nagito smiles, his light eyes filled with a loving somberness. “I was so worried about him for the longest time. But here, at Hope’s Peak, he’s making friends and he’s talking with people! I was terrified that he’d end up like me, but he’s not and I’m so proud of him.

“And, just between you and I, Hajime, I think it’s this school. I knew I had found a good place for him when we enrolled here. Aren’t I just the luckiest?”

With a slight nod of his head, Hajime grasped Nagito’s hand, intertwining their fingers once more. “So, when can I meet this brother of yours?”

A smile appeared on Nagito’s face once more. “Right now, if you’d like. I can drive to my place. He doesn’t have any after school activities on Thursdays, so he should be home right about now.”

Despite Hajime nodding and not protesting when Nagito led him to his truck which was parked in the Hope’s Peak school parking lot, a sinking feeling of dread pooled in his stomach. It wasn’t that Nagito was a poor driver, quite the opposite in fact. He followed all traffic laws, made safe decisions, and had never gotten a ticket (or, so he said). That didn’t stop the intense anxiety from gripping at Hajime’s heart when he strapped himself into the passenger seat of the car and tensed as Nagito placed the key into the ignition.

The engine shuttered and groaned. Nagito’s truck was a piece of work, and Hajime was fairly certain that it must’ve belonged to his grandparents with how old it was. There was never a ride that Nagito took Hajime on where he didn’t worry about being blown to smithereens due to a gas leak or something. The truck was a manual, and whenever Nagito changed gears, the engine would sputter and growl, and Hajime swore he could see soot coming from beneath the hood at times.

If Hajime could do the impossible and look past the poor condition of the truck, then Nagito’s actual driving skills were impressive to a scary degree. If he didn’t know Nagito as well as he did, he wouldn’t allow him within seven feet of the wheel. For the first few years of their friendship, and the first month or so of their relationship, he did just that. It wasn’t until a situation much like the one he was currently in, where he was on the passenger side of things. Nagito wanted to show Hajime where he lived and suddenly he was in the passenger side of the old, gray truck. He could’ve sworn he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. 

Nagito’s house was about a forty-five minute drive from Hope’s Peak, and it there was generally uneventful. Nagito and Rantaro lived in a large house, not exactly mansion level but it was definitely on the verge, that sat atop a large hill. There were a few other houses in the area, and Hajime had to guess that the taxes in such a place were astronomical. The first few times he went over to Nagito’s place, he hadn’t seen any evidence that he had a little brother. The house was…relatively bare, which only made it seem larger. He was sure that there were photos of Rantaro somewhere in the house, he just hadn’t seen them. He and Nagito mostly spent time in his bedroom or in the living room. He had to guess that Rantaro had been avoiding those rooms whenever he came over, so as not to disturb them.

 The truck pulled into the driveway, but not into the large garage. The door had been left open and a second, smaller car, had been parked dead center inside. The garage was big enough to fit two cars relatively comfortably, but the truck wouldn’t be able to fit on either side of it. Hajime turned to Nagito who grimaced, one of his eyes twitching as he put the truck into park and pulled the key out of the ignition.

“Rantaro…” He grunted quietly as he shoved the keys into his pocket. Hajime slung his backpack over his shoulder as he exited the car along the same time as Nagito, closing the door behind him. The truck beeped as Nagito locked it with the keys, slipping them into his pocket. Hajime hadn’t noticed before, but the keys had a small, beaded decoration on them. It didn’t look like anything else Nagito owned, so he had to wonder where it came from.

The pair walked over to the open garage and Nagito rubbed his forehead. “He could’ve at least closed it…”

“Haha.” Hajime looked at the car, supposedly Rantaro’s, and squinted. It looked…awful. He couldn’t point out the exact model, but looking at it, it had to be at least a decade old. It was a small black car with paint chips here and there, as well as a dent or two. Nagito had all this money, and he had yet to get his little brother a new car?

That wasn’t normally a thought that Hajime had, but he knew around the amount of inheritance that Nagito had gained, and buying another small car wouldn’t be hard on his income.

“He’s getting a new car for his birthday.”

“Sorry?”

Nagito smiled, pressing the buttons on the outside panel to close the garage. He gestured for Hajime to follow him as he began the ascent up the stairs to the front door. “I could tell what you were thinking, about his car, I mean. I know I seem awful for not getting him a new one sooner and making him drive around in that awful thing, but I knew I wanted to get him a new one for his birthday! So I had to make him wait.

“But you can’t say anything, okay, Hajime? It’s a surprise! He has no idea.”

“Yeah, of course.” Hajime nodded, his hands in his pockets as he walked. “Your secret is safe with me. Do you know what kind of car you’re getting him?”

“Mm…” Nagito hummed, “I’m not completely sure yet, but I have a few in mind.”

The two reached the front door, and Nagito jiggled the doorknob. Locked.

“Oh, so he locks the front door but doesn’t close the garage? Typical…” Nagito muttered to himself as he pulled out his keys. He fumbled for a moment, before getting the right key into the front door. It opened with a swift click and Hajime wondered why he didn’t just get one of those locks with a code instead of a key. Maybe the house was just built that way? He wasn’t sure.

With an apologetic look on his face, Nagito turned back to face Hajime. “Ahh, sorry about that, Hajime! Come on in.”

The door was held open, and Hajime walked in, Nagito following suit. Hajime had to pause when he entered the house. It wasn’t the first time he had been there, but he had to marvel at it every time. The interior was absolutely gorgeous. He slipped off his shoes at the front door, setting them next to the other pairs of shoes. He set them next to a pair of brown hiking boots, and he supposed that they had to belong to Rantaro. When he first saw them when he came over, he just assumed they were Nagito’s. But he had never seen Nagito wear them (nor did he think that Nagito actually hiked), so they must’ve been Rantaro’s. He quickly set his school bag on a nearby hook, making sure to not stray far from the entrance.

“Rantaro?” Nagito called as Hajime did small circles near the front door, glancing around for the slippers that Nagito had provided last time. He didn’t even want to think about stepping onto the shimmering wooden floors in his socks. “Are you in the living room?”

“Hey, Nagito? Where are-?!” Before Hajime could finish, Nagito grabbed him by the hand and pulled him onto the floor anyway. He looked at Nagito with wide eyes, his head cocking to the side in shock. Nagito raised an eyebrow before laughing softly to himself. He dismissed Hajime’s concerns with a wave of his hand and continued to drag him through the large house.

The pair entered the kitchen, and Hajime locked eyes with the one and only Rantaro. He looked almost exactly like the photo that Nagito had shown him earlier, his hair just being a bit longer. Only the piercings on his lobes had earrings at the moment, but he had other jewelry on. He had on a necklace with a leather chain and a crystal attached to it, and if he and Nagito were akin at all, the crystal was completely authentic (although Hajime couldn’t tell exactly). He also had a variety of bracelets on, being both metal and leather.

Rantaro was sitting at the table, one leg crossed over the other. He was wearing a thinly striped blue sweater, and he leaned into his knuckles. His backpack was a foot or so away from him, so Hajime suspected he had been doing homework, or had been using his laptop for something or other. The two soon joined him at the table, both sitting across from him. His green eyes flickered from Hajime to Nagito and he raised an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?” He asked, no sense of distaste or anxiety in his tone. It was just a simple, sincere question.

“I figured that it’s about time for you and Hajime to meet properly.” Nagito said, his hand subtly moving over to land on Hajime’s thigh. However, it was swiftly moved, their fingers now intertwined. “I’ve met his family, so it was only a matter of time until he met you.”

“Oh, cool.”

“And don’t worry, this visit won’t take long. You’ll be able to finish up your work soon.” Nagito stood up, and Hajime raised an eyebrow at him. He placed his hand on Hajime’s shoulder, looking down and smiling. “Would you like some tea, Hajime? I could make us some.”

“Hm? Oh yeah. That’d be great, thanks.” 

With a swift nod, Nagito walked away, leaving the two at the table by themselves. Hajime picked up on his intentions almost immediately. Nagito wanted him and Rantaro to try and hold a conversation without him. Which was reasonable, he supposed. That didn’t mean it was any less awkward. He knew very little about Rantaro, and was unsure of how to start a conversation with him.

Much to his luck, Nagito came through for him. At least for now.

“Rantaro, where’s the tea we got this week?”

To respond, Rantaro leaned to his side so he could look at Nagito. Hajime did the same. His face scrunched up slightly as he spoke: “In the garage I think.”

The cabinet door closed and Nagito looked at his little brother with exasperation written all over his face. “Why is it in the garage?”

“You said we didn’t have any room in the pantry,” Rantaro said, crossing his arms. “So you told me to put the extra packages in the garage when I brought the groceries in.” “And you didn’t bring any in when you saw that we were out?”

“I don’t drink tea, Nagito. I only drink it when you make it. So, yeah, I didn’t notice.”

Nagito muttered something that Hajime probably didn’t want to hear before walking off, presumably to the garage. Rantaro sighed, putting his crossed arms on the table, he pushed some of his green hair out of his face as he did so.

“Sorry about that.”

“Haha, it’s no problem. I ended up doing the same thing to Nagito with Makoto the first time he came over.”

There was a pause and Rantaro gave him a small smile of disbelief. “Naegi’s your brother?”

“My half-brother, yeah.”

“Which side?”

“We share a dad.”

Hajime hoped that Rantaro wouldn’t press further. He didn’t feel like going into the intricacies of the drama between their shared father and their mothers. It was a whole thing, and he was tired of hearing about it.

“Is Naegi as awesome of a brother as he is a guy?” “Yeah. He is. He’s pretty cool.” He was thankful for a brother like Makoto. In some other family, he might’ve been considered a bastard child or something. Maybe it was the bare minimum, but he was really appreciative that both Makoto and Komaru just treated him like another sibling. It was nice. Their mother was a whole other story, but he’d rather not think about all of that at the moment.

An awkward silence fell over the two, and Hajime figured he should be the one to try and start up the next conversation.

“So…I’ve seen you around Hope’s Peak.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah. I’ve seen you with uh, this blond girl? Is she just a friend or…?”

“Ah, Kaede?” Rantaro put the side of his face into his palm, really leaning into it. He smiled, his eyes drifting off to the side. “She’s a good friend of mine. If you get the chance, you should go to the music festival. She’ll be playing piano. She’s really good.”

“I’ll see if I can catch her performance.” Hajime nods, his fingers drumming on the table. “I’m going anyway. A few friends of mine are doing a performance.”

“Oh nice.”

Another silence.

Goddamnit, where was Nagito when you needed him?

“...You don’t really drink tea?”

“Yeah.” He hummed, his eyes rolling back to look at Hajime. “But Nagito does, so whenever he makes it I take some as well.”

The pair went quiet, except this time, it was to listen in on something else. Nagito’s muffled voice reverberated across the house, but neither were sure what exactly he was saying. There was another voice, and the two glanced at each other. Hajime stood up, unsure of what was happening. With Nagito’s luck (or bad luck, really), who knows who he could be talking to. His guard stayed up until the voices got closer and he recognized the person’s voice.

The beginning of the sentence was lost, but Hajime managed to get the last little bit of it. “...for something, not an emergency, but he said that it was urgent.”

Rantaro stood up as Nagito and the other person entered the kitchen, and both his and Hajime’s bodies relaxed. Standing next to Nagito was a familiar face, whose red eyes lit up.

“Hey Taka.”

“Hello Ishimaru.”

Taka placed his hands on his hips before smiling at the two. “Greetings to you both! I apologize for the intrusion, but Makoto sent me to pick you up, Hajime. I would have contacted you and asked when I should pick you up, but he said that it was urgent, so I simply did not have the time.”

“Urgent? Is everything okay? Is Komaru alright?”

“Komaru and the rest of your family are fine, do not worry about that.”

As Taka and Hajime continued to speak for a moment, Rantaro got up and slowly slinked over to Nagito. The two stood next to each other, watching for a moment before Rantaro asked something quietly.

“Who’s Komaru?”

Nagito leaned down a little and whispered back, “Naegi’s little sister. She goes to a different school.”

“Ah.”

“Amani!” Taka turned from Hajime after he finished speaking and placed his hand onto Rantaro’s shoulder. “I saw the video you turned in regarding our student body. You have quite a way with words! It was beautifully said!”

“Oh, hah, thanks.”

“I figured I’d tell you the next time I saw you in person, instead of via email.” With a smile, Taka put his hands on his hips once more. “I believe that it’s much more personal that way!”

Before Rantaro, or anyone else, for that matter, could say a word, Taka turned back to Hajime. Nagito could’ve sworn he felt a gust of air fly past him as Taka did so. The two exchanged quick words, with Hajime saying he’ll only take a minute to say his goodbyes. Taka left swiftly aftwards, giving Nagito a quick nod to thank him for allowing him inside his home. “Sorry about all this. I wish I could’ve stayed longer.”

“No worries, Hajime.” Nagito smiled, his hands shifting into his pockets. “I’m sure you’ll be back soon enough.”

A scoff left Hajime as he leaned over and pecked Nagito on his cheeks. It was especially chaste, but he didn’t want to embarrass Rantaro too much. “I’ll let you know what happened when I get home.”

“Don’t worry about it! You just take care of things.”

“And, I’ll see you around man. It was nice to meet you.” Hajime gave Rantaro a small smile and held up a fist. It took Rantaro a moment, but he caught on quickly and gave Hajime a fist bump.

“Yeah. Cya.”

Hajime, who just had too, gave Nagito one more goodbye kiss before walking back through the kitchen to the front door. He was followed by the two who lived there to send him off. He slipped his shoes back on, his bag slung over his shoulder. He opened the door, and once more he was hit with a wave of hot, humid air. God, he was so thankful for air conditioning. He gave Rantaro and Nagito a quick goodbye wave, getting one in return from the former, before leaving.

The only sound that was made for a moment or two was the sound of Taka’s car starting and then driving off. Nagito had shifted over to the front window and watched the car drive away.

“So.”

“So?” Rantaro raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

All Nagito got was a shrug. “He seems nice. I see why you like him.”

Nagito beamed. It had been a quick meeting, sure. One that he would’ve wanted to go on for much longer, but there wasn’t much he could do. However, a good first impression was all that he could’ve hoped for from both parties, and it had been successful! He watched Rantaro as he walked back into the kitchen, a smile still on his face. It had been a rough few years, for the both of them. 

But maybe, just maybe, things were getting better.

He had hope that was the case.

[a-tale-never-told]

The Abode of a Mechanic.

*Monday, September 11th, Souda residence, Late afternoon*

Okay! It's almost finished! Just need to add the remaining components and we'll be ready to-

BEEP!

Huh? Well, who's coming around here at this time and hour? I was certainly sure that we wouldn't be getting any customers today.

*He peers his head out the window to see a green, small-sized car, outside of the entrance. Upon seeing this, Kazuichi puts down his tools and makes for the door to confront the stranger*

Hey! Come out of the car and show yourself! What are you doing at my house, uninvited? Show yourself, will ya?!

*The stranger does as told, coming out of the car and revealing himself*

Well, you never officially sent me an invitation to your house, so you really aren't on any grounds to complain about being uninvited to some special event.

Tch! Whatever, man. Forgive me for trying to protect my home from unwanted visitors like yourself. Now explain who you are and what the hell are you doing here before I force you out of the premises, okay?

My name's Hajime Hinata. I was driving to your house this afternoon to see if you could do me a little favor. See, one of my dad's cars got extremely damaged in a driving accident last weekend, and I was wondering if you could repair it? After all, you're the Ultimate Mechanic, right?

Well, yeah, I could. But you said your name is Hinata, right? Hajime Hinata, to be exact?

Y-Yeah? What's the matter with me introducing myself? Is something wrong?

...

Oh, so you're the guy Nanami was talking about! Well, that makes a whole lot more sense now, doesn't it?

*Kazuichi, without warning, frantically begins to shake Hajime's hand*

W-What are you doing?

Heh. Apologies for the rude welcome, pal. Didn't recognize you there for a minute. Name's Kazuichi Souda. I'm the Ultimate Mechanic. Nice to meet ya.

A pleasure to meet you as well, man. I've heard that you know me because of Chiaki, right? Do you know her?

Know her? I'm one of her classmates from Hope's Peak! She's a rather sweet-hearted gal, y'know? I'm supposing you're her old friend from the Reserve Course, aren't you?

Yeah. I've actually known her since when we were at elementary school together in Toyko. So, she's a very close friend to me personally.

Elementary? Dude, you've gotta tell me how you both met. Come to think of it, Chiaki never did tell me how she first met you. All I have gotten from her was that you two met when you were in the Reserve Course. There's so much history that I'm missing out on!

And why do you want to know about this in particular? Is it something that is truly valuable and important to you?

No, man! I just thought that it would be pretty cool and fascinating to hear about your history with Nanami, considering that she seems to have you in high esteem or something. So I just wanted to get your point of view on how you officially met Chiaki, considering that you're her childhood friend.

...

Well... I guess it couldn't hurt to at least explain to you the entire story of how we first met each other. But in the meantime, is there someplace where I can wash up a bit?

Sure thing, dude! The restrooms are on the left corner of the house if you need to wash yourself up. Considering that you look tired and sweaty, you might want to get a change of clothes the next time we meet, though.

I'll... be sure to keep that in mind.

Sweet! By the way, where's the car that you said needed repair? After all, your car looked pretty well refined and undamaged to me.

Well...*points to an incoming pickup truck* you'll see what I mean by that.

*Kazuichi turns his head around to see the pickup truck carrying the smoking, burnt remains of what was once a majestic car. The front hood, doors, and the rear bottom of the car had been torn off their hinges, and the windshields were absolutely shattered and all over the place. Two frontal tires were missing from the vehicle, while the other two looked flattened and deflated, and to top it all out, the interior looked as if it had caught fire*

Holy shit... how are you even still alive after that crash, man?!

Honestly, I have absolutely no idea as to how exactly I survived that to begin with. I got extremely lucky on that one, and considering the amount of car crashes that happen often, this was a particularly brutal one. I'm surprised that it took this long for anyone to pick this vehicle up.

Well, I'll... see what I can do from here. In the meantime, you just wash off and make yourself at home, alright? I'll let you know when I'm finished inspecting the damage to the car and how we're going to find a way to fix it if we even can repair it at this point.

Sure thing. Thanks again for letting me stay here man. I appreciate it.

No problem, man! It's the least I can do after treating you poorly earlier!

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Where’s Seiko?

She's just getting a few things to work on the medication for Mr. Tengan but to answer your question;

I think what happen was that despite removing everything of Hajime Hinata's entire identity and even memories, we couldn't remove his feelings or emotions.

——————————————————————

I see so even if memories are remove, what you feel from those memories might still be there.

It's like short-term memory loss; where you might forget something but the feelings are still there. I did read a bit about it from Dr. Kurokawa would wrote a theory that even if you don't remember something you'll feel some type of emotion from the experience.

——————————————————————

Ah yeah I think I remember Miaya talking about that book during our time at Hope's Peak, it's pretty interesting stuff. It's not exactly something I'm into but it is a very interesting topic to talk about.

——————————————————————

Mhm yeah, I did find Dr. Kurokawa's research on memories and emotions a very interesting bit of discussion and sees what connects memories with emotions or if you remove memories you'll have emotional memories.

Like for example, you ever heard of Clive Wearing?

——————————————————————

I believe so, he's a musician from 1985 that contracted herpesviral encephalitis, which caused severe damage to his nervous system. He experiences both retrograde and anterograde amnesia, and only experiences the world in intervals of about 7-30 seconds.

——————————————————————

Yep, that guy. Which while he loses memories for a short amount of time he still has emotional memories.

Like for example, he still remembers how to play the piano and one of the people he always recognizes, no matter what, is his wife.

He can never remember the last time he saw her, so anytime she's around, he hugs her like it's the first time he's seen her in days. Even if she just left the room and came back

So while his memories may not be all there, his emotions and feelings certainly are.

——————————————————————

Hmm... I guess that could be a good comparison to what happen to Izuru and why he had such fondness for you.

[mod-kyoko]

May I request the goodbye despair’s cast reaction to a random dude who’s a student at hope’s peak YEETING hiyoko in a pool with all her clothes on for talking too much shit, as she usually does.

this is hella funny thank you for this request

goodbye despair cast reacting to hiyoko being thrown in a pool

fandom: danganronpa

type: crack fic

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

hiyoko saionji

as the person who was thrown in the pool, she is pretty upset. her kimono was ruined, her hair came undone, her makeup is now running down her face, but not just from the water in the pool. the whole class was watching her climb out of the pool and do the walk of shame all the way to the bathroom. usually she likes to guilt people by sobbing loudly, but she was too humiliated to do anything but sniffle, wiping her tears with her soaking kimono sleeve.

ibuki mioda

silly ibuki thought it was a game at first, and that the guy would jump in right after hiyoko or something. she cackled. then when she saw everyone pointing and laughing, she quickly realized it wasn't a laughing with hiyoko type of situation, but rather a laughing at hiyoko situation. after that, she sort of just chuckled uncomfortably, and walked away, not wanting to be part of the taunting.

mahiru koizumi

being hiyoko's only true friend, she ran after her, but not before chewing EVERYONE the fuck out until they felt as bad as hiyoko did. mahiru was disgusted by the behavior and went to great lengths to comfort her friend. getting her dry clothes, buying her favorite brand of gummies.

sonia nevermind

like ibuki, she thought it was a fun game at first, and even clapped. but a frown quickly warped her features when she saw hiyoko's face scrunched in pain. if mahiru hadn't yelled at everyone, sonia would have. she didn't exactly like hiyoko, but a mature and refined person should not throw someone else in a pool with the intention of embarrassing them. she thought they should have handled her differently.

chiaki nanami

also the type to help hiyoko if mahiru hadn't. from the start, chiaki had a look of disapproval on her face. she knew immediately it wasn't a game or joke, it was done out of malice. she pitied hiyoko, and everyone else involved, for being so immature. once mahiru left to go comfort hiyoko, chiaki made sure to shoo everyone away.

mikan tsumiki

she was scared. scared of hiyoko's wrath. scared she was next. surprised hiyoko didn't unleash her wrath afterward. for some reason, she was feeling sad for her bully, but she didn't speak up, she just shrank away into the corner.

peko pekoyama

peko could give less of a fuck about the whole situation, she was above all of it. all of it was pretty immature. she didn't really have a reaction to it, she didn't stick around long enough. but she knew hiyoko had it coming, and so she felt no pity.

akane owari

almost jumped in the damn pool to join in on the fun, but decided against it when she saw everyone tormenting hiyoko. she was torn by inner conflict, one half of her felt bad for hiyoko, bit the other half felt that what the guy did was fair. it was the only way to get hiyoko to shut up. so, she didn't participate in the taunting, but she didn't do anything to stop it.

hajime hinata

literally did not know what to do. he thought hiyoko was incredibly annoying, but he never wished anything like this on her. he stuck around in the back to see the entire situation play out, and almost joined mahiru and chiaki when they were defending hiyoko, but didn't want to get involved.

nekomaru nidai

also very disappointed in everyone who was involved. he had an incredible patience when it came to hiyoko's antics, and never felt any animosity towards her. once hiyoko had run away, he made sure the people around him heard his passive aggressive remarks about the immaturity of throwing someone into a pool instead of voicing your concerns.

gundham tanaka

pities every single person in this situation, even the bystanders. but it's the kind of pity that means he's looking down on them. hiyoko definitely had it coming, in fact, she's lucky the devas weren't the ones who snapped at her annoying behavior. gundham wouldn't laugh or point, but he did stand there with his arms crossed and shook his head.

teruteru hanamura

bro is definitely chuckling, i mean she deserved it. maybe now she will learn her lesson. if the other guy hadn't thrown her in the pool, he would've.

kazuichi soda

he is one of the people pointing and laughing to be honest. god he is laughing his head off. he only stops after mahiru screams at him, but he grumbles about how she deserved it anyway, and why is mahiru defending her, and blah blah blah.

fuyuhiko kuzuryu

a little dumbfounded at first, but goes back to his conversation with peko right away. like her, he is also above this nonsense. yeah, hiyoko was annoying as he'll, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't at least a tad bit satisfying to see her get what she deserves. his lips turned up into a smirk.

nagito komaeda

doesn't necessarily feel bad for hiyoko, but it is truly an annoying situation. he looks down on the guy who threw her into the pool. not very hopeful of him to do. when he sees hiyoko around later he'll be walking on eggshells, even more than he already does around her.

ultimate imposter

also is torn by inner conflict. he sort of feels bad, but she was really annoying. he chooses not to get involved, and instead slinks away while everyone is laughing.

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my bad for posting this months after you requested it 💀

-mod kyoko

[hxpelessnurse]

Please repost do not reblog

CHARACTER SHEET ― FULL NAME: Mikan Tsumiki NICKNAME: Miks, Miki, Pig, a whole lot of other unpleasant names. ALIASES: The Ultimate Nurse, Super High School Level Health Committee Member, Plague (P5 AU Metaverse nickname) PRONOUNS: Cis woman She/Her/Hers HEIGHT: 5'4" (165cm) AGE: Verse dependent; 16 - 30+ ZODIAC: Taurus, Year of the Rooster SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Japanese, English, Korean

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ―

HAIR: Long, dark and choppy. Looks deep purple in certain lighting. FACIAL HAIR: None. EYES: Grey-lilac in colour. Often red and puffy from crying. SKIN TONE: Pale as a ghost. BODY TYPE: Slightly curvy. Pear shaped. VOICE: sharp, nervous, always stuttering and stumbling over words, but very sweet and soft. DOMINANT HAND: Ambidextrous. Both hands are dominant. Tends to use right slightly more though. POSTURE: Always shivering and tense. A little anxious ball of emotions, back always pin-straight. SCARS: Tons all over her body. Most are predominantly on her legs and arms. BIRTHMARKS: a beauty mark under her left eye MOST NOTABLE FEATURES: Her eyes and hair. Grey eyes are rather rare and her hair is always a wild mess. 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ― PLACE OF BIRTH: Kawasaki, Japan HOMETOWN: Tokyo, Japan or Jabberwock Island SIBLINGS: n/a PARENTS: Shinso Tsumiki (Father, half-Korean), Mitsuko Hanawara (Mother, Full Japanese, remarried), Daisuke Hanawara (Step-Father, Full Japanese)

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ― OCCUPATION: Nurse Practitioner CURRENT RESIDENCE: Hope's peak Dorms/Studio apartment in the Kichijoji district of Tokyo/Her cabin on Jabberwock Island. CLOSE FRIENDS: Ibuki Mioda, Mahiru Koizumi, Sonia Nevermind, Chiaki Nanami, Hajime Hinata, Kazuichi Souda. FINANCIAL STATUS: She is getting by. But she's not making a lot. DRIVER'S LICENSE: No. CRIMINAL RECORD: She has murdered a lot of people so... VICES: smoking, drinking, overthinking.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ―

LOVE LANGUAGE: Words Of Affirmation, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, and Quality Time. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES: She's a paranoid person when it comes to relationships so she will do anything to keep her partner. She can get a little overly possessive and be a bit of a yandere when it comes to her partner. She's also super clingy and willing to put out on the first date if it means they'll stay.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ―

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE: Crybaby by Melanie Martinez, Girl Anachronism by Dresden Dolls HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME: Reading romance novels, and watching horror movies. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: Left-Brained. SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL: What confidence? She has none.

Tagged by: @dxfiedfxte (thank you!) Tagging: @webbedphantom, @attractdistract, @more-than-a-princess, and viewers like you.

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter Sixty Four

Luctus Aglais Io

Pairing: Haikyuu!! x Fem!Reader

previous | next | 2099

"What do you want?" Suna asks the man. "Money? Drugs?"

"Like you've got any of that anymore," he scoffs. "Why do you want to leave here anyways? You're gonna be screwed if you leave, too, you know. No money. No home. Nothing. Don't act like your little girlfriend here won't leave you for someone else in the blink of an eye on the other side."

"There's more of us, you know," Suna then explains. "Fourteen to be exact. The odds are not in your favor, my friend."

"Yo!" Hinata's voice suddenly calls out. The rest of your group is walking over.

"What good timing," Suna smiles. "Did I mention most of us have guns, too? Pretty large ones, in fact."

"Go away. I have nothing," the man sighs, closing his eye again.

You and Suna exchange a defeated look before turning back to the others who are now approaching. Hinata, Oikawa, and Kenma get the closest and look behind you to see the sleeping man nearby.

"Oh shit," Oikawa whispers when he sees the fake sleeper. "Hajime?"

When you turn around, the man now has both of his eyes open looking past you toward Oikawa. "Fucking hell," he whispers to himself as Oikawa walks around you to get toward the stranger.

"Do you know him?" you ask, unintentionally ruining their reunion.

"This man was the co-owner of the casino I used to, well, co-own. Iwaizumi." Oikawa whispers in disbelief. "Hey, Hajime, do you really have a way out of here? You used to have a plane, didn't you?"

"You never shut the fuck up, do you?" Iwaizumi groans. "Yeah, I have a plane, but don't get your fucking hopes up. It's been broken. Why else do you think I'm hanging around this shit hole?"

"Dunno, maybe you were waiting for me," Oikawa grins hopefully. You've only seen these two talk for a few minutes, but you can already sense some kind of tension between the two of them.

"How 'bout this then," you begin to negotiate. "We'll help you with your plane, but then you gotta fly us out with you."

"Don't think I've got much of a choice between your guns and Oikawa's big mouth," he chuckles. "Alright, fine, but it's going to take some time even with the extra hands."

"Thanks, Hajime," Oikawa beams. "You won't regret it."

"Yeah, well, it's not like you'll last long. There's no food left. Not in the whole fucking place."

"That's fine, we got a bus and two cars," you interrupt. "Kenma and I will go get food. We can all share. Sound good?" you ask, turning towards Kenma.

"Fine with me," he nods back.

About a week later, you and Kenma head out on your last food run before finally departing from the airport. It's his turn to drive Yamaguchi's car, so you sit in the passenger seat beside him and watch as he puts the key in the ignition and places it in drive.

"You alright?" he asks as he drives out of the lot, heading toward the grocery store the two of you had discovered last week. "You look a bit out of it today, Y/N."

"I'm fine. Just a bit worried, you know. Like when we first got here, you weren't there, but Iwa said we'd be screwed even if we got out. All we'll have is ourselves. I don't know if Rin... if we'll..."

"All we can do is hope things work out," he tells you as he speeds down the road. "Suna cares about you. Everyone sees that. I don't think he'd leave just 'cause you're on the other side of the world together."

"Thanks, Kenma," you smile softly. "I used to think the same thing about you and Kuroo. I can tell how much you care about him. I mean, I don't think you'd still be here if it weren't for him."

"I don't think I'd be here at all," he nods in agreement. "But I'm glad that I am. God, he was a piece of work but my stomach still hurts every time I think about him."

"I'm sorry that it happened," you express as he turns into the lot of the grocery store. "He was a good person. He never wanted to harm or bother anyone. Shit, whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" you shake your head.

"You know that wasn't your fault, right? None of them. You aren't responsible for any of their deaths. Only Bokuto is to blame," he explains to you. "He was all kinds of fucked up in the head. You tried to help. It isn't your fault."

"He told me he wasn't going to leave," you whisper to Kenma as your eyes begin to fill with tears just like every other time you think about them. "He promised me that he'd stay."

"Promises and hearts have that in common," he sighs. "They're both meant to be kept, but end up being broken instead."

"You think we'll all make it out?" you ask him genuinely.

"I think," he begins as he looks out the window, "those of us who were meant to travel into the next world, will, and those who aren't, will stay behind."

"And you? Will you make it out?" you continue to question.

"Take it one day at a time, Y/N. We've still got a day or two before we actually take off. Let's go get food before the others get hangry, okay?"

"Sure," you nod as you watch him step out of the car and shut the door behind himself. Note to self: keep an eye on Kenma.

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