#junko is much less averse to the idea

[aparticularbandit]

I think the scene I'm going to add to Monday's chapter - not the one I kept thinking about over my trip because I cannot remember what it was, but one I've been thinking about for far, far longer - is the Kyoko Kirigiri Is Ace And So Is Virgin Junko Enoshima But They Are Different Flavors conversation.

So that will be. fun.

[momota-kaiharem]

okay kaito and masaru right. they’re both my favourite characters from their respective games (rantaro and maki dni) so it makes sense that i’d want to see them interacting a bit but also... the parallels. the PARALLELS

they both have hero complexes and like, shockingly low self esteem? and this aversion to being scared. i think kaito is more well-adjusted than masaru just in that he’s better at putting on a smile (and i think his backstory is,, proooobably less traumatic than masaru’s, just speculating here) but he’s also a bit older than masaru? so he had more time to get that repression down pat.

i don’t know that i actually see kaito as a father type figure for masaru, i think he’s more of the fun uncle/older brother type who gradually gets more concerned about the kid the more they get to know one another. kaito would probably see a little bit of himself in masaru!! and not in that gross patronising way, but more like, you’re like a little brother to me and i don’t want you to make the same mistakes as i did, it’s okay to be weak sometimes.

also maybe the idea of kaito fighting masaru’s dad is a LITTLE bit cathartic to me. i am just a little creature, i cannot change this.

i want to write more content where kaito interacts with the warriors of hope... he’s just such an earnest and sweet role model type figure i can see him scooping them up with ease, and not to mention gravitating towards them. imagine if it had been kaito who found the warriors of hope up on the roof rather than junko, how much better things could’ve gone for them... ugh. is it too much to ask that the WOH get to have good role models and parental figures? please. i just. the catharsis. the Catharsis. i think they all deserve a good kaito hug.

(including monaca. i know she’s absolutely awful in the game, but come on, she’s a child. SURELY some of that could have been prevented with the right guidance. i have a hard time believing a kid who got abused like monaca did is inherently evil.)

[magioftheseas]

The Kamukura Files - Yasuke

Written for @the-hinata-project

Day 2: Izuru Kamukura -or- Perfection/Formal/Dystopia

Rating: T

Warnings: Language and references to torture/murder/experimentation because the Kamukura Project does not consist of good times. Bad times only.

Notes: Yeah, you bet your ass I’m writing MatsuKamu for Day 2 again. How can I not? Although it’s even angstier than last year. Whoops. This is probably the darkest the short fics will ever get though. Uh. Probably. I assume. Yeah. But I do love both of them and their dubious relationship oh so dearly.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

Once an idiot always a hopeless idiot. But, there’s more to it than that. There always fucking has to be. It’s a lot to deal with. A lot I was admittedly prepared to deal with, but a lot nonetheless. Because of fucking course, the Ultimate Hope, the Ultimate Talent, the Ultimate Lap Dog and Guinea Pig, would also be the Ultimate Chore.

Junko would laugh her ass off before trying to stab him repeatedly. It’s a good thing, then, that she’s instead going on a rampage in some other unfortunate place. It’s a bad thing that I won’t be able to keep this from her forever. Not with how enamored the old shits are at Hope’s Peak Academy with the idea of the Ultimate Symbol at their beck and call.

Although I was expected to beat out Kamukura Izuru’s more disobedient kinks when I wasn’t being blamed for him. Because what other reason could an emotionally constipated child locked in a damn cellar all day possibly have to be unresponsive?

God, the researchers are as stupid as they are inhumane. You’d have to be to sign up to be a part of this shit. What does that say about me, then?

“That while you treat me with more consideration, you are similarly stupid and inhumane,” was Kamukura Izuru’s obvious answer, blinking at me with the judgmental eyes of a dead fish.

“I don’t have a choice,” I retort, like I’ve never considered just staying in bed every morning. Just never getting up. Weak bitch I refuse to let myself be. “Besides, in my case I’m more curious.”

Because I knew Hinata Hajime. He was a hopeless dumbass. I did wonder if I could change that just with a few tweaks of his brain. I’m still not sure if I did, and staring upon Kamukura Izuru’s head scars filled me with a feeling that was more uncomfortable than anything. Honestly, I kind of wanted to throw up sometimes.

Not that I had any right to. I still made the choices, under pressure or no. There’s only so much blame that I can toss off my shoulders.

And I find myself willing to toss less and less the longer I was around Kamukura Izuru.

He was the exact opposite of Junko in so many ways and yet similar in others. Both were dreadfully and ridiculously fucking unsatisfied, and yet while Junko was a chaotic force, Kamukura was the immovable object. What a disaster it would be when those two inevitably collided.

I didn’t—want that to happen, but I didn’t know how I’d prevent it short of just terminating the situation entirely.

There were rowdy days of Kamukura Izuru where that was a very real possibility. To call that terrifying would be an understatement.

“What are the tests for today, Matsuda Yasuke?” Kamukura asks without inflection. As if those stupid tests never involved poisoning him at one point. Sometimes. Often. Worse than that. “Observations today are that your mood is steadily worsening and that you have been losing even more sleep.”

And—something a little strange does happen. Kamukura’s finger runs along one of the shadows beneath my eyes. I flinch, but Kamukura, suddenly a curious fucking child, is undeterred.

“Sleep shortens your lifespan. An early death would be inconvenient. For everyone.”

“If you died, that’d be better for everyone,” I spit back and it hurts me probably more than it hurts him. “A world where you exist doesn’t have the best chances. So, why don’t you run away never to be seen again or something? Surely haunting the mountains would be more interesting than passively lying around.”

Kamukura’s thumb presses into the edge of my scowl and it’s too easy to break. I know this guy has more than enough capability to crush my skull with just a little force applied. While I have a natural aversion to dying, being killed by him would be the least of my worries.

“Someone like you isn’t meant to exist,” I whisper, almost urgently.

“Someone perfect?” Kamukura Izuru asks dryly. So much so that it’s beyond infuriating. “Yes, I am aware. It would be so easy for me to tilt the world, yes? It would be so easy to dig my fingers in and tear this planet asunder.”

He cups my face. I know he’s being intimidating just because he has a sick fascination with my expressions. Maybe it’s because no one else is making much of a face around him. The other researchers have less life than this guy, whose head was split, emptied, and stuffed again.

“You could ruin this world if you wanted to,” I just remind him. “But you don’t want for anything.”

“No, I do not,” he agrees. “But, I have no interest in complying with other’s inane desires, either. You have nothing to worry about, Matsuda Yasuke.”

“Idiot.” I pinch his cheek. “There’s still shit to worry about. You know everything and nothing at the same time.”

“Is that so, Matsuda Yasuke?”

“Can you quit holding my face while speaking so formally? It’s fucking creepy.”

Kamukura does pull back, his posture ever prim and proper as he sits at the edge of a dinky fucking bed. In a room with no other furnishing. Just a door and a couple of security cameras for the shitty-ass researchers to ogle Kamukura Izuru from.

“You really should run away and disappear,” I found myself muttering. “Or I should kill you myself.”

I tiredly wrap my hands around his neck. I squeeze. Kamukura Izuru stares back blankly. My reflection in that blood-red gaze looks haggard.

He’s such an idiot. But he’s someone I also can’t help but care about. It’s just a crying shame I can’t make him care about anything in return.

I sigh and let go of him. Without another word, I push past him and lie down on that dinky bed.

“I need a nap, so feel free to escape while I sleep. Just. Saying. Whatever.”

I already knew he’d still be there when I later wake, but it was wishful thinking. Maybe even hopeful. I might have even dreamed of lying there forever. With Kamukura Izuru’s creepy, miserable presence. Urgh.

“Have sweet dreams, Matsuda Yasuke.”

Idiot.