#naemeshi

[theamityelf]

"Be still, don't move" + Makoto/Nagito

(Okay, I leaned pretty wholesome for the Kamuegi one, and I already have a hunch that this one is taking my brain in another direction, lol. If someone wants wholesome Komaegi, all you have to do is ask!)

...

Makoto woke to the sound of someone humming.

His whole body was sore– a soreness only interrupted by a few distinct points of sharp pain –but he could feel that he was in a pretty comfortable bed. As he worked his eyes open, he had to fight against the interference of crusted tears that seemed to momentarily cement them shut. Which told him that he'd been asleep for longer than normal.

"Ah. I thought my terrible singing might wake you up. Sorry about that."

He focused his gaze on the face hovering nearby. He felt the vague, niggling familiarity that meant he was supposed to remember that face. He'd recovered a lot of his school memories, with the Future Foundation's help, but some things took longer to come back than others. And surviving a helicopter crash didn't help.

Wait! The helicopter!

"I was just very excited to get to tend to your wounds, is all," the stranger (or non-stranger) continued. His tangled, white hair stuck out in so many directions, it seemed to defy gravity; a ratty, striped shirt hung loose on his narrow frame; and a peculiar radiance in his eyes spoke to an excitement that was triumphing soundly over a deep physical exhaustion. "Of course, for your sake, I wish you had someone a lot more competent to assist you. But for my own, well...I am of course more than glad to serve you any way I can." A pink flush filled his cheeks as he offered up a strangely enthusiastic smile.

Makoto shook his head, baffled beyond words. "Serve me? Where are we? Where's...?" He shut his eyes for a moment, focusing. "I was in a helicopter. The...The city was under attack, and my sister...My friends..."

"Wow! You're so selfless, for someone who broke his leg in a helicopter crash."

He noticed, then, that his knee had been crudely bandaged into a thick makeshift cast. "Broke my leg?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, so I suppose you can take my words with a few grains of salt. It might not be exactly broken, but...I wouldn't recommend trying to walk on it."

Oh, that was never in question.

"It's funny. Your sister isn't nearly this injured. Did you try to shield her with your body, or...are you just that unlucky?" He seemed to delight in the question.

"You saw my sister?! Where is she?"

The delighted expression sobered into an apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to say that she isn’t here. She was made a prisoner of the Warriors of Hope. Ah, sorry! I shouldn't use such an inapt title in front of you, of all people. But I was able to hide you away from them. Fortunately, this house’s previous owners no longer have need of it. Very lucky for us, don’t you think?"

The second reference to luck stirred something in Makoto's mind. A name was trying to rise to the surface, very slowly...But he couldn't focus on that right now. "Who are the Warriors of Hope? What do you mean, my sister is their prisoner? And...are we still in Towa City? How long was I asleep?" His voice cracked as it became too painful to support it; it felt like he might have at least one bruised rib.

The non-stranger laid a pacifying hand on him, smiling besottedly. "There's no need to strain yourself. The world's savior has more than earned a nice, comfy spectator seat for this round. It's someone else's responsibility to prove hope supreme, right now. It would be far too easy for you. Not worth your time."

"But you said my sister is someone's prisoner!" Makoto tried to sit up, but the pacifying hand turned restraining, guiding him back down to the bed. He couldn't try again; the pain that had flared in his ribs would have grounded him if the hand hadn't.

"Be still; don't move. Ahh, the pull to heroism that emanates from you...It's a good thing I'm here to serve you, or who knows what you'd get into. Haha, just imagining it almost makes me feel faint..." One of his hands grasped his opposite arm, whereas the other remained in his lap. The latter was covered by a thick-looking mitten. (It reminded Makoto of Mukuro's tattoo and Kyoko's scars.) He looked giddy, exultant, and it didn't make sense. It didn't go with the horrible things he'd said. Something was seriously wrong here!

A part of a memory came into focus. A part of a name. "Ko...Ko-something..."

The non-stranger froze, suddenly looking almost fearful.

"Isn't that your name?" Makoto asked. "I'm sorry, I still have trouble remembering some things..."

Kyoko and Byakuya both had warned against being too open about what he did and didn't remember. They said that telling anyone how unreliable the recovered memory sometimes was, risked informing enemies that they could pretend to be friends. He knew that he should be more careful, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was a friend, or close to a friend. Maybe...a fond acquaintance?

But the look of alarm on his face seemed to mean Makoto had made some kind of mistake. "There's no need to remember me! I'm nobody. I don't deserve to be named by someone as incredible as you. Oh, I certainly hope you haven't been wasting your mental energy on something so pointless. I wouldn't forgive myself!"

"Hey, it's okay," Makoto said. "Please, I just-" He winced. Yeah, too much talking for his poor ribs. "Just need you to explain," he whispered, "what's going on here. The city, my sister..."

Ko-something's face softened at the first sign of pain. He dabbed the sweat from Makoto's face with a cold rag, smiling dreamily all the while. "Poor hope. As I said, you're not allowed to be the hero for this round. Your sister is alive. The city is...well, it's certainly not thriving any longer, but it's not entirely defenseless, either. And you are perfectly safe here. I will use my every breath to ensure that, especially."

Makoto wanted to say something, but the throbbing in his ribs forced him to just focus on breathing, for now. There were so many things he needed to follow up on, with this person he had definitely known before. Why was there a chain around his neck? Why did he seem to know everything that was happening? What was happening? Where did he know him from? Was it from Hope's Peak? What did he mean when he said he didn't deserve to be named? And what did he mean by all that servant stuff? Why had he saved Makoto and not Komaru, if they had been in the same crash? If it was just Ko-something alone, it probably would have been impossible for him to carry two people at once...Most likely, he'd carried Makoto first, because he was so injured, and then he'd gone back for Komaru and found she'd been abducted by those Warriors of Hope people. That made sense, right?

And he still hadn't gotten an explanation about the Warriors of Hope. The name sounded friendly, but the assertion that they were keeping Komaru prisoner definitely didn't. Ko-something had said the title was inapt.

There was so much going on, and breathing hurt.

"My friends," he said weakly.

"They're both alive, too," Ko-something assured him sweetly. "Everyone is alright. They all have their parts to play. And you" (He wiped the cool rag over Makoto's lips, even though there definitely wasn't any sweat there. He did sometimes drool in his sleep; maybe some of that had dried on him?) "just have to enjoy your vacation. Consider me entirely at your disposal to make your stay here more comfortable. Unfortunately, I can't always be at your side; I do have another job. But I'll give you a way to call me, and I promise you I will always rush right over. Nothing over there is more important to me than you. Oh! And you can call me Servant." That smile seemed...really genuine.

Komaeda. That was his name. Komaeda. And...he was from Hope's Peak. Another class. Another...

"You're like me," Makoto realized. "Ultimate Lucky Student."

Komaeda's smile tensed into a rictus of...what looked bizarrely like shame? "You can call me Servant," he reiterated, almost desperately. "Or whatever else you'd like to call me. I can understand if you don't think someone as unworthy as me should be allowed to be called a servant to the Ultimate Hope himself."

"This is wrong....I...I just-"

"I'm privileged to be under the sound of your voice, but I think you should hold off on talking much right now. It's clearly taking a toll, and I wouldn't be a very good servant if I let you puncture a lung." He presented a bottle of medicine and poured a bit of it into the cap. Makoto noticed he held the bottle between his knees to open it, rather than using both hands; his covered hand still lay in his lap. But he did use that hand to hold the cap steady while he poured into it. "This should help with the pain and help you to get some real sleep. Here."

As Komaeda brought the medicine to Makoto's lips, he could just hear what Byakuya, Toko, or Hiro would say about accepting medicine from someone so suspicious. But...he was already at Komaeda's mercy in every other way. He couldn't move, couldn't leave. His hacking gun was nowhere to be seen, and he had no way of calling for help, at least for now. If Komaeda wanted to hurt him, why would he have gone to the trouble of bandaging him and...?

After only a moment's hesitation, Makoto parted his lips and took the medicine.

Komaeda's pupils dilated slightly. "Thank you for your trust," he breathed, maybe more exultantly than Makoto would have liked. "I swear, for all my filthy word is worth, that you will not regret it. I'll guard you with my worthless life, I'll keep you abreast of all the good news, I'll attend to your every need until my final breath. Of course, I mean, until the battle is won. Of course, I will return you to your friends once the danger has passed. Yes, of course."

The tone Komaeda used when he said "of course" reminded Makoto of the many times Komaru had dismissively said that she'd get to something "later" and then inevitably forgot.

"Komaeda?" he tried to say, but he found that his speech slurred on the way out. He blinked and found that his eyelids were heavy.

"Shhh," the upperclassman shushed him, with adoration in his eyes that didn't match the friendly but casual rapport Makoto remembered from school. "Don't fight it. As I said, my hope deserves a good rest. I'll be back with your dinner by the time you wake up. I'll...try to have something that's worth eating, heheh."