As Kamuegi Week 2026 comes to a close, our hearts are overflowing with gratitude. Thank you to everyone who participated, shared their creativity, and helped bring this celebration to life. Your passion, support, and love for Kamuegi made this week truly unforgettable.
From the artists and writers to the readers, each of you played a part in making this week shine. We couldn’t have done it without you, and we look forward to celebrating together again in the future!
Make sure to tag your works with the #kamuegiweek2026 and also add your fics to the Kamuegi Week 2026 collection on AO3!
As Kamuegi Week 2026 comes to a close, our hearts are overflowing with gratitude. Thank you to everyone who participated, shared their creativity, and helped bring this celebration to life. Your passion, support, and love for Kamuegi made this week truly unforgettable.
From the artists and writers to the readers, each of you played a part in making this week shine. We couldn’t have done it without you, and we look forward to celebrating together again in the future!
Make sure to tag your works with the #kamuegiweek2026 and also add your fics to the Kamuegi Week 2026 collection on AO3!
While things of the sort would have been shocking on a regular day basis, an army of the undead rising from the grave didn’t seem to be such a shocking revelation with the planet’s current status. The Future Foundation had already boarded their windows and doors due to the influence of despair, it wasn’t much harder keeping the living dead out. Literal and figurative zombies, although one couldn’t be killed as easy.
It really wasn’t an issue, everyone inside was healthy and well-kept, up until there was a sneeze there, and a cough here. When grey skin and the smell of rot began to linger in the halls, it was officially deemed a contaminated zone.
Makoto wasn’t one who was willing to slay them all that easy, he believed they could be cured, they could be saved. Some had families, friends, and finally a reason to live. It would be such a waste of effort to let that slip away so easily. To let them slip away.
The ending of that decision was unfortunately inevitable, when Naegi progressed from a lively man to one who could barely move, his joints sore and skin sickly pallid—a bite on the shin hidden—they all knew time was a string wearing thin. He still believed there was a cure, he would save these people as he couldn’t do the others.
When his speech slipped away and his smell grew stronger, to the point where some couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him, further measures had to come into play.
Kirigiri knew it was her last option if any of them wanted Naegi back, summon the remnant who had the skill to potentially save the world, given the chance. Of course, the world was the last thing on his mind. The brunet lying on the bed, who he’d observed for months, was the only reason that something of such importance could have the possibility to exist.
“I will comply with you, under one condition. He comes with me.”
That wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Even if none of them agreed, Naegi wouldn’t be resident zombie of the foundation much longer regardless.
“Absolutely not! You live out there, do you not? The conditions are astronomically worse.”
Togami wasn’t sure about letting Makoto be taken either, but the way the bags under his eyes seemed to sag further in the yellowed light made it obvious, they would all probably get some good rest once he wasn’t a worry anymore. Kamukura wouldn’t have much chance bringing him back if all the others had fallen into death due to exhaustion, their guards all down.
That night, Naegi was taken from his bed as a zombie, and wouldn’t be returning until he was back to his normal self…as normal as that could possibly be.
At the shack he resided with the servant, there was no material to create a chain and collar as quick as he would need to, making a fire to forge would attract the undead due to the smoke. The white haired man was quick to comply and offer Naegi his chains, bowing as he did so.
“For somebody much more worthy than me..I would do anything..”
The servant seemed more than willing to make himself a guinea pig, predictable, but he may be useful for testing possible remedies on. Makoto was chained and kept in the empty room, his only signed of life being groans and creaks, whatever sense of self he had left in there must’ve been fighting quite hard to not be biting.
The tips of Izuru’s gloved fingers lifted the zombies chin, even with the possibility that he did lash out, he found himself confident in his abilities to be able to get back in time. It wasn’t a concern, the undead man’s head lolling back, being kept in place by the live hands, gloves necessary to keep his scent away, he wasn’t trying to torture him with that.
“Look at me,”
No answer, he stared out into nothing with those glazed eyes, truly looking further away in there then once assumed. There was one way to get his attention. With his right hand, he pulled off the glove off of the left. Important that he used that one, while being ambidextrous he still had slight dominance in the left, most likely remnants of his last identity. If he wanted to pull it away in time, it would have to be as quick as possible.
Near instantly, the zombie’s eyes focused on the fist in front of him, mouth beginning to leak drool onto the floor like a river. The knuckles ran slowly over his nostrils, Kamukura ignoring the dry blood that remained on his hand afterwards.
“If you decide to bite me, I will not be able to aid you. Do you understand?”
The brunet wasn’t listening, his lips being bit shut as to not go savage on the warm flesh shoved in his face. Izuru nodded, there was indeed some control in there, a good result, he would be able to work with this.
His throat grumbled, more so as one his thumb ran over his pursed lip, his purpled tongue rapidly licking it to savour the taste of the digit.
It was almost interesting to taunt him, but that’s not what was he was expected to do, he was supposed to be helping, and he would do so.
The glove was pulled back onto his hand once more, covering the bare skin much to the zombie’s dismay, it was obvious with the way his eyes trailed off into the distance again. His frame deflated, releasing a raspy moan.
“You are better at control than I thought. I knew your mind was strong, I have not seen such proof up close.”
His grey skin wrinkled as Kamukura once again lifted his head and pushed open his mouth, examining his teeth. Some sharp, most broken and shaved down. He’d been grinding them together, trying not to bite.
Impressive, a conscious zombie. Perhaps he’d have to document this in a journal to let him read once healed.
Now came the biggest issue, finding a way to resolve his ills, how to turn a dead man alive again. There were many possibly ways to bring him back to his senses. While electrocuting him may start his heart again, it would only be temporary due to the amount of time he’d been under. Going completely “Frankenstein” would likely kill him further, it may start his heart but would potentially stop his brain activity entirely, if the voltage was too high.
Human DNA was Izuru’s second attempt, Naegi had been particularly feral after being shocked a few times too many. He had extracted it from his own self with a needle, using the servant to hold the Zombie down as he inserted the tip, roughly smoothing his hand back and forth over the area to stimulate blood flow after the injection.
As successful as Kamukura had assumed it would be, Naegi’s new sprouts of black hair the next morning proved otherwise. Perchance his DNA entirely may not have been the best plan. Difficult.
***
It was completely trial and error, it would work or it wouldn’t. After he’d filled two pages of the journal with his multiple attempts for a cure, Naegi’s situation hadn’t improved much. A bone to chew on had resolved his agression and the issue of grinding his teeth, warmth and a wooden stove to ignite circulation in his veins, a mechanical vibrating vest to try and start his heart.
If he needed it, he would find it. Is this the feeling that Naegi felt while trying to save his co-workers? No. He knew Makoto, he’d spent months with him up to date, Naegi did not feel this way about his workmates.
..Feel, is that what was getting in the way? Would his vaccine have already been developed if he hadn’t the thought in his head to not hurt the luckster?
He barely even resembled himself anymore. His skin grey and purple, practically green. His freckles were faded, his hair was greasy and strands would loop around his fingers when they ran through it, falling out with ease. Every potential milestone seemed to be caving in on itself, even his olive eyes seemed to be turning the unappealing dead colour of a black and red slurry, the part that resembled him the most. Kept Kamukura grounded that Makoto was still in there, he hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him properly once healthy. He wanted it, he needed it, badly.
Perhaps it was his diet, he only accepted raw meat. Humans weren’t supposed to eat that, his regular immune system didn’t have the capabilities to support the bacteria inside of it, even if currently paused. He didn’t sleep either, or drink. Issues upon issues..there had to be a way to resolve them all at once.
“Have you always been so onerous?”
His red eyes gazed down at the zombie, who continued to gnaw on his bone. His fists opened and closed automatically, a suddenly rush in his heart rate, he felt the need to hold something tightly and shake it, maybe even throw it, was that a choking motion? ..Extremely difficult.
***
The final resolution—for the day—was cooked meat, water and sleeping pills, that he’d made himself, blended into a smoothie. If Naegi didn’t drink this, he may be a lost cause entirely..and yet, he didn’t find himself willing to give up so soon. Especially not as the zombie complied and drank the sludge through a pipe, a makeshift funnel. He had a habit of clenching when trying to swallow, it seemed to be a struggle, but perhaps that meant he was beginning to feel pain again? It also meant no hands near the mouth while ingesting anything.
His face was wiped off with a rag and he was right back to the bone. A checkmark in the notebook, he hasn’t resisted the drink and got some protein, double whammy. Turning to leave and wait the for the medication to set it, a soft groan behind him made him stop momentarily.
super late but here i am!! YURIII KAMUEGI LETS GO | crossposted on ao3!
warnings: drinking, aged up characters
Naegi was never a fan of clubs. She wasn't the kind of person to party. No, she's usually the kind of girl who would rather stay at home , and read manga. It wasn't that she hated parties but, the atmosphere just didn't suit her.
And yet, here she was.
She was getting kind of drunk, too.
"Hey, Makoto-chan!" Enoshima spoke, his face suddenly coming in full view. "Helloooo, earth to Makyutie-chan?"
Naegi blinked. Oh. How long had she been dozing off? She was pretty sure she was just with Kuwata getting drinks, but now as she looked around her, she realized that she was by herself on the counter. The bartender wasn't even there! She blinked her eyes a few times before her vision finally cleared.
She tilted her head, "Enoshima-kun?" She asked, still quite unsure of what's happening.
Enoshima regarded her with a surprised look. "Wow, that drink we gave you barely had any alcohol! How come you're this tipsy?" He cupped her cheeks, an action that Naegi was already used to receive from the male. "I should've guessed you were lightweight."
Naegi gently shoved the hands away from her cheeks, the cold feeling weird against her flushed face. "'m not tipsy." She argued.
"That's what tipsy people say." Enoshima huffed. He then helped Naegi on steady feet, leaning close to her ear and whispered, "Someone's been staring at you the whole time by the way."
Despite her lack of a clear head, Naegi rolled her eyes. "I'm not interested in guys!" She yelled.
"It's a girl this time!" Enoshima exclaimed in excitement. "And she's totally your type: aloof and nysterious. I think you guys would look cute together!" He winked, putting his arm on her shoulder. This movement made Naegi stumble, and when she steadied herself, she found herself having eye contact with someone.
Oh. Oh wow.
Naegi's mouth slacked open slightly, looking like a deer in headlights.
It wasn't that the person was wearing a flashy outfit, not, it was the exact opposite. Instead, she looked like she was sucking the colors out of the club. The girl was wearing a halter top bodycon dress. It hugged her body in all the right ways, in ways that made Naegi feel things. Her locks of hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, and it made her silhouette more enticing. Naegi doesn't think she's seen anything else that could compare to this person.
"A-are you sure she's been staring at me this whole time?" Naegi stammered, suddenly feeling underdressed for this occasion. She nervously patted down her short khaki plaid skirt, and then fanned herself with the scarf on her neck. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?
Enoshima turned to the watcher's direction, and shrugged. "Eh, I could be mistaken. She's probably just staring at the bartender behind you for all I know. '
Naegi's face flushed in embarrassment.
"T-then why would you say those things to me earlier?!"
"Aww, did that get your hopes up? " Enoshima cooed in false empathy. He then ruffled Naegi's hair before making his leave. " All I know is that she's been staring real hard towards this direction. You're free to approach her, you know? It's about time you get yourself laid! "
It was impossible for someone to get any redder than Naegi, yet here she was becoming even redder by the second. Enoshima laughed at her expression as he finally left her alone.
Good. Naegi grumbled in her head. She turned away and faced the counter, throat suddenly feeling parched. She gestured at the bartender for a glass of water, and buried her head into her hands.
"Do you not party often?"
Naegi turned around at the unfamiliar voice. "Huh?" She paused, eyes wide in disbelief as she stared at the stranger before her.
Standing in front of her was the girl from earlier. At this proximity, Naegi realized how long her actually was. It fell right below her hips. Her eyes were a shade of red Naegi hadn't seen before in her life. Her height toweered over Naegi, making the latter strain her neck to meet her eyes.
Naegi took a couple of seconds before she finally found her voice. "U-um.. Are you talking to me?"
"Yes." The other immediately answered. She took the seat right next to Naegi, and her movements were so graceful it had Naegi fix her posture. With a hand tucking her hair behind her ear, she faced Naegi again, and asked, "Do you not party often?"
Naegi stammered in her reply. "N-no! I mean, no. Um, clubs aren't really my thing. And I don't drink that often."
"Ah, but the people you came in with are?" She questioned.
Naegi nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack. She nervously patted down her skirt, and she realized how sweaty her palms had gotten.
After a couple of seconds, Naegi asked, "How about you? Do you come here that often?"
"Hmm. Not really." She replied. Her gaze raked over, appraising her from head to toe. Naegi resisted the urge to shiver under her stare. "I initially thought things would be interesting today but I was already getting bored halfway. I was going to leave."
Naegi blinked. "Oh! Um.. what made you want to stay?"
The other only stared at her. It was a hard stare, as if she was silently telling Naegi to guess why. In the end, she didn't answer Naegi's question, but introduced herself. "I'm Kamukura Izuru."
"My name's Naegi M-makoto!" She quickly responded. Her voice was in a slightly higher pitch for some reason. "Nice to meet you!"
Kamukura only hummed her reply, and after that, the bartender had finally handed Naegi her glass of water. She immediately reached for it, and drank. Her throat was really parched. Naegi felt Kamukura’s gaze lingered over her figure, sharp enough that it made it feel like Naegi herself was being stripped naked. She tried to ignore the way Kamukura’s eyes stayed on her.
She set the glass down, fingers trembling slightly against the cool surface. Why was Kamukura looking at her like that? Is something on her face? Oh god, her make up was probably melting. She did have to skip using her primer because she ran out of it yesterday. She probably looked horrible now. Did she even bring her mirror today?
“You’re trembling.”
“I-I am?” Naegi laughed nervously. She reached up to the scarf around her neck, tugging at it to distract herself. “I-I’m not, though! It’s just really loud in here.”
There was a faint smile on Kamukura’s lips. It was so faint Naegi thought she was hallucinating. Wow, Kamukura was really pretty.
Kamukura was leaning a bit closer now, her hair spilling like ink across her shoulder in the most perfect way. Naegi resisted the urge to look at her chest. “Are you sure? It’s not because of me, is it?” She asked, her head titled.
Blood rushed up to Naegi’s face. “Hahahah… I-” The laughter broke off too quickly, too sharp. Naegi pressed her palm against the cool glass to anchor herself. Her face was burning. What is happening? Ohmygodwhatishappening. “I…I don’t think it’s because of you.” She started, though the words feeling like lies the second they left her mouth. Her throat was dry again. What?
Kamukura was only looking at her, her red eyes piercing on Naegi’s own. She felt like
she could just come undone from the stare alone. Naegi couldn’t look away.
“You’re sure?” Kamukra asked, her voice soft and velvet-dark, like it could slip under her skin.
Naegi swallowed hard. She’s so close. She’s so pretty. Someone save me. “I don’t know.” She whispered, the admission trembling out of her. “Maybe it is because of you.”
This time, Naegi was sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Because there the smile was again, only this time, it was deeper, and it felt like Naegi was being lured into the waters by Kamukura. Like a sailor being hypnotized by a siren.
“Good,” she murmused. “Because I want it to be.”
Kamukura’s words lingered in Naegi’s chest long after she spoke them. The club suddenly felt too small, too bright, too alive. It’s like all the noise came crushing at once. The atmosphere was so thick that Naegi could taste it in her tongue.
“Come with me,” she said simply, as if it wasn’t a request at all.
Naegi blinked, startled. “W-where?”
The other began to stand, her gaze on Naegi sharp, expectant. “Home.” She paused. “Do you want to come home with me?” She clarified.
Never before had Naegi’s reaction time been faster than it was right now. She immediately stood up, stumbling in the process. Her back was almost perfectly straight. “Yes, I do!” Naegi answered.
Kamukura’s hand was outstretched, and Naegi found herself taking it before she could even think. Her fingers were cool, steady, wrapping around Naegi’s own warm hands. Yet, even so, Naegi couldn’t bear to let go as they made their way outside of the club.
“You’re really pretty.” Naegi blurted out. Her eyes immediately went wide, and she slapped her own mouth with the other hand. “Oh my god, forget I ever said that.”
A small laugh fell out of Kamukura’s lips, sounding like music to Naegi’s ears. “It’s alright. I think you’re pretty, too.”
A couple of hollers and whistles reached Naegi’s ears when they passed a table. When she turned, she found a couple of her friends cheering for her. Some of them were yelling, and Enoshima winked at Naegi.
Red bloomed all over Naegi’s face. She pulled at Kamukura’s hand, and began walking faster towards the door. By the time they were outside, the streets were quiet and empty.
The walk to Kamukura’s apartment was a blur—Naegi remembered asking some questions, and she remembered a conversation here and there, but it all died down just as quickly as they started. The night air was against Naegi’s flushed skin, and she silently wondered when she was going to stop blushing so hard.
When they finally reached Kamukura’s apartment, Naegi’s nerves were a tangled knot. Kamukura unlocked her door with a casual flick, cool in her movements in ways that made Naegi’s stomach churn for an entirely different reason.
Naegi stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her. The quiet outside had been comforting, cool, but here it was deafening. Naegi felt like she could choke. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.
Kamukura moved with unhurried grace, slipping her sandals off in the entranceway. She continued walking before she glanced back at Naegi, her eyes gleaming like she’d already won something.
“You’re still standing there.” She mentioned, amused. “Do you always freeze when you’re nervous?”
“I-I’m not nervous!” Naegi protested, though her voice cracked in the middle. Why does her voice keep cracking?! Her hands twisted together, betraying her own words. Naegi slowly took off her own heels, and placed them beside Kamukura’s.
As Naegi walked up to Kamukura’s entranceway, the latter was right in front of her. She was standing so close that Naegi could feel the warmth radiating off her. “You are,” Kamukura whispered, a teasing tone in her voice. “And it’s… cute.”
Naegi’s breath was caught in her chest. Cute? She thinks I’m cute? The thought sent another rush of heat in Naegi’s face.
Kamukura was leaning away, and Naegi felt too cold without her. “You’re trembling again.” She paused. “Is it still the noise, or is it me?”
You. It had always been you. Naegi swallowed hard, following as Kamukura began walking. “It’s you.” She tried to laugh, but it came out awkward, brittle. “Hahah.. I’m just–uh, really bad at this.” She began untangling the scarf on her neck, and draped it on the chair.
“Bad at what? Talking to me?”
“N-no! I mean… maybe. You’re just distracting.”
Kamukura paused in her steps. And Naegi almost crashed on Kamukura’s back. The other looked back at her, her head tilted. It was like she was looking at Naegi as though the latter was a puzzle she already knew the answer to. “Distracting.” She repeated, her lips curving slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Naegi shivered under her stare, feeling weak in her knees. “You’re doing this on purpose.” She breathed out.
“Of course,” she said, her tone playful, dangerous. “It’s more fun that way.”
"We're live," Izuru said flatly. "Same rules as always. They're in the video description, if you're new. Read them or get banned from the live chat."
The chat was already filled with viewer questions. Thankfully, the rigorously-enforced "No greetings or pleasantries" rule reduced how many lines of text he would have to read to get to the matters of substance. So, he simply began answering questions, one after the other.
"Yes, this is considered a credible source for research papers. No, your experiment failed because barium sulfate is not soluble in water. I've been advised not to speak on open cases, but no, he clearly didn't do it. 63,289 meters, but that's a question for a calculator, and that's strike two for that user. Both translations are valid from different perspectives; empirical evidence doesn't rule either out. That's a conspiracy theory from a podcast, not a documented event. This isn't Stack Overflow, but you'll want to review your recursion loop. Yes, this livestream is monetized. Personal question, Google question, calculator question, personal question, and I'm not supposed to tell people how to make bombs anymore. Subjective, but the fall of Constantinople is the more pertinent event for that timeline. You're thinking of Atemisia Gentileschi, and I don't know how you got them confused. Personal question, calculator question, Makoto question. No, I don't care if my videos are played in a court of law. Yes, you're on the right track; there's no geometrical fault in the design, as you've described it. But given the character limit, you'll want to check with someone who can actually look at it."
He took a sip of water, nonchalantly bringing a 'World's Best Kisser' mug into frame for a few seconds.
"It would be hard to make a case for stalking, under your country's legal definition," he continued, "so child endangerment is probably the charge you want to emphasize. Obviously, I can't give a reliable diagnosis with so little information, but I'd say you should start by looking into clomipramine. I've been advised not to give any answer to metaphysical questions, even about Santa Claus, and you shouldn't tell strangers on the Internet your name and age. But happy holidays to you, too. No, don't start over; wait another three days. Yes, you're probably pregnant, but still check. Mods, pause the chat."
He turned just as Makoto opened the door. "You don't have to stop everything just because I walked in," he complained, as he pulled up a seat nearby.
"If I don't, about a hundred people are going to get blocked for forgetting the 'no emoji' rule," Izuru replied, casually grabbing the arm of Makoto's rolling chair and dragging it closer.
"Aww, I don't mind the emojis."
"Blocked," Izuru warned the viewing audience regardless.
"Do you want to switch now?"
"There are thirteen more questions that I didn't answer before Kazuichi paused the chat, but after that, yes."
Makoto dug through the mini-fridge beneath the desk, while Izuru answered the last few questions. He emerged with a bowl of grapes and munched on them while skimming the still-paused chat. So many words! He frowned, spotting one particularly ill-intentioned one.
"They're still asking that?" he sighed.
"Kaz," Izuru said, and the offending message disappeared. "It's fine," he added to Makoto. "I didn't answer."
Makoto popped another grape into his mouth gumpily.
"Last three. Yes, but find out if you have any skin allergies first. No, and you're functionally dividing by zero. And yes, that is the face I make when I hear Makoto coming, but don't get in the habit of asking rhetorical questions." He turned to his boyfriend, taking a grape from his bowl. "Now switch."
"Okay." Makoto handed Izuru the whole bowl; while his boyfriend was of the opinion that nothing Makoto did on stream was ever wrong, he at least cared enough to avoid aggravating anyone with his chewing. "Now, as always, I don't read as fast as Izuru or our mods, so I can only answer what I see."
"You read faster than some of them," Izuru corrected mildly.
"Well, that's just because it's her second language," Makoto dismissed. "You can resume the chat, Kaz."
New questions started flying by.
"Oh, wow. There are a lot of you today."
"Viewer retention has gone up," Izuru said. "I gather that a growing subset of our viewership is here for entertainment and not just to see their specific question answered."
"Well, that's cool. Um, the person who asked about your new dog? I think the first name was really funny. Person with the brother, it's probably better to tell him in person. If it makes you that anxious, maybe try telling him with your eyes closed? Or asking him to close his eyes? Or wait til he has his mouth full of food, so he can't react right away. That's what my sister does. The one about the hat: The point is to keep your head warm, right? Child one: You really shouldn't share your name over the Internet."
"That's what I said," Izuru remarked. "Kazuichi, ban the ones who are telling us to kiss."
"Don't ban them!" Makoto laughed. "They're just joking about the mug."
"The mug hasn't been in frame for three minutes."
"We're not kissing on camera, guys. Hey, did my phone just-?"
"Yes," Izuru said, already removing Makoto's phone from Makoto's pocket and checking the most recent notification. "Yamada says 'Kiss.'"
"Hey, speaking of my friends watching our stream, hi Junko! Yes, we got the birthday invitation."
"Personal question," Izuru reminded. "That's Enoshima's second strike, Kazuichi. Note it down."
"We can't ban Junko from the chat. And good question, guys. Our next Q&A stream is still the same time next week; it's our react streams that are canceled, this month."
"Don't be so dramatic," Izuru added, in response to the latest chat responses. "You're not being abandoned. We have a whole backlog of videos you can rewatch. And that's a strike for everyone expressing their disappointment in a non-question format. Mods, please update the spreadsheet accordingly."
"Jeez," Makoto laughed, as always offsetting Izuru's strictness without even trying. "Don't worry, guys. I'll tamper with the spreadsheet for you later."
"I'm revoking your edit privileges."
Half-smirking, Makoto took a deep swig out of Izuru's mug, then went back to answering the chat's questions.
Makoto was not expecting to enter his dorm room to see his roommate completely set up, not to mention the nest in their bed.
Alphas and Omegas aren't supposed to room together. In fact, Omegas have a separate dorm building, yet here he is, entering an Omega's living space where he's supposed to stay.
Makoto takes a deep breath, though he wasn't expecting to get a nose full of cherries, the Omega having already scented the place.
Makoto isn't sure how the Omega could've possibly had the time to unpack all their boxes, build a nest on their bed, then scent the room while still being able to leave before Makoto even arrived.
Suddenly, someone walks past him and into the room, and judging by the strong scent of cherries that fill his nose when they pass, Makoto assumes that this is his roommate.
He's not sure how he didn't hear them coming, with their insanely tall platform boots, which make them stand about a foot taller than Makoto. Their long black hair ends at the top of their boots, around mid-calf.
"Hey!" Makoto greets, making the other pause and slowly turn around. They look Makoto over with a bored look in their piercing red eyes before making eye contact with Makoto and staring.
Makoto's smile falters and his hand stops from his wave.
They’re beautiful.
"I- uh… I think I'm your roommate," he says dumbly, probably embarrassing himself in front of the pretty Omega.
Said pretty Omega arches a well-kept eyebrow.
"I'd noticed," they say, their voice monotonous and a little quiet. Though, they easily make Makoto feel like an idiot.
"Y-yeah, of course you did!" he stutters out, averting his eyes.
He can still feel the other's stare.
"Are you just going to stand there?" they ask.
Makoto's eyes snap back up to meet theirs and his face reddens as he nods, hurriedly bringing in his suitcase and two bags.
His boxes had already been put in the room, and furniture was provided by the school, so he starts by unpacking his clothes.
His roommate had claimed the left side of the room, leaving Makoto with the right, which has the door to the closet. His roommate has claimed the left side of that as well.
Unfortunately for Makoto, the door to their bathroom is also on the left side, meaning he will have to pass through the Omega's space to use it.
He's been taught all his life that a big part of respecting Omegas is to respect their space, and their territory. It really hasn't been that long since Omegas were seen as objects, as lower, and there are still some people out there that see them that way.
Makoto doesn't want to even seem like one of those people, he doesn't want to disrespect an Omega, especially the one he apparently has to share a room with.
Though really, he'd just rather not disrespect anyone at all.
So Makoto saves his toiletries for last.
After making his bed, he starts setting up his desk, which is at the back of the room pressed up against his roommate's.
And too soon, Makoto is left with only his toiletries bag to unpack.
He grabs it and stands just on his side of the room, shuffling his feet.
The Omega looks over at him lazily from their nest. "Do you need something?" they ask, making Makoto jump.
"I just wanted to make sure it's okay to pass through your space to get to the bathroom," Makoto says meekly.
To say he's intimidated by the Omega is an understatement. They practically radiate an important aura, the air around them heavy with their dominant presence, and while Makoto has always been considered a weak Alpha, he's never felt the urge to submit to an Omega before.
It doesn't help that Makoto finds the Omega attractive.
The Omega who he's just realized he never introduced himself to.
"Oh!" Makoto says, just as the Omega opens their mouth to answer. He flushes when he realizes he'd pretty much interrupted them. "I never introduced myself, either! I'm Makoto Naegi!"
The Omega hums. "Izuru Kamukura. You may pass as you please."
Makoto nods, practically whimpering out a 'thank you' before he scurries to the bathroom.
He closes the door behind him softly and finds that he's once again been left the right side of the sink.
When he's done setting up his side of the sink, he exits the bathroom and starts stacking up his empty boxes. He saw an empty box drop off just by the entrance to his dorm building, so he'll take them there.
As he struggles to stack them all to carry them down, Izuru speaks up.
"It'll be easier if you break them down," they say, the smallest lilt of amusement in their otherwise monotonous voice.
"Oh, right," Makoto says, embarrassed as he starts to break down the boxes. He can feel Izuru's eyes on him, tracking him until he's out of the door.
Childhood Friends/Ice Skating/Hockey/College & University
...
It started with a raffle.
Not much was known about it; just that Hope's Peak was periodically selecting households to serve as host family to a unique prodigy. And even that only came from the letter they received in the mail. Shockingly little had leaked to the news or Internet.
All Makoto knew was that one day there was a Hope's Peak envelope in the mail and his mother took him and Komaru shopping for new nice clothes. And then a little later, his parents woke them up really early one morning and they got dressed in the new nice clothes and waited outside the house for a car to pull up.
And it was kind of cold.
When the car came, first a man in a white labcoat came out. And then a boy who looked Makoto's age. Surprisingly, he didn't look at all as tidy as Makoto and Komaru did; his formal suit was rumpled, like he regularly slept in it (and perhaps had been, on the ride over), and his hair was shaggy and fell just past his shoulders. His eyes were bright red and seemed to lock onto things really hard.
The guy in the labcoat talked to Makoto's parents, saying a bunch of words: "situational learning," "non-disclosure," "compensation"...
The other boy was paying attention to the grown ups, so Makoto waved hello at him.
The red eyes flicked to him expectantly. Like now that he had his attention, he was supposed to do something.
Makoto couldn't think of anything on the spot and ended up just filling his cheeks with air, like a pufferfish.
The boy blinked. Then filled his own cheeks with air, in response.
Makoto placed his hands on his own cheeks and slowly compressed them until all of the air was expelled.
The other boy followed suit.
The deflating-balloon sound they both created made Komaru start giggling, which in turn made Makoto laugh, and the other boy watched them both with a look of incomprehension.
The man in the labcoat glanced over at them and remarked to Makoto's parents, "The children are seven and four, correct?"
"Yes," Mr. Naegi said.
"Close to the project's age. Most of the previous households had either babies or older teenagers. He's had encounters with children in this age range before, but..." The man trailed off, like the rest of the sentence didn't matter. "Anyway, he has no food allergies. We'll be back for him in two days."
And just like that, the man drove away, leaving the boy behind.
Mr. and Mrs. Naegi greeted the boy formally and kindly. He offered up a silent bow, his eyes ever-watchful.
"Your teacher said we can call you 'Project,'" Mrs. Naegi said.
The boy didn't answer or even nod.
"Can he talk?" Makoto whispered.
"Several languages fluently," the boy replied.
"Oh! You weren't saying anything," Makoto explained.
The boy just stared.
"I thought you couldn't talk, because you didn't say anything," Makoto further explained.
The boy blinked. "And you understand now that you were incorrect."
"Yeah. So, your name is 'Project'?"
"No."
When he didn't elaborate, Makoto's mother explained, "Project is just what we're supposed to call him. The man said we're not allowed to know what he's actually called."
While she spoke, the boy walked past all of them and entered the house.
Makoto felt like the rest of them entered pretty soon after that, but by the time they did, Project was completely missing.
Komaru was thrilled; she started running around the house shrieking, "Hide and seek! Hide and seek!" While she did that and their parents called out Project's name and started searching as many child-sized hiding places (and the backyard) as they could, Makoto thought about it for a while and decided that his job was to set a trap.
He went to the pantry and grabbed a snack he thought Project might enjoy: a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels. He sat it down in the middle of the living room, hid behind a bookshelf, and waited. Staring through a gap between the books to see if Project took the bait.
It actually got pretty boring pretty quickly. He heard Komaru stop chanting "Hide and seek!" and start playing one of her computer games. His parents sat down at the kitchen table and started poring over the many-paged letter they'd received, trying to figure out what they were supposed to do if they didn't know where Project was.
Makoto thought about giving up.
He checked his wrist as if he were wearing a watch.
And then suddenly, a pair of red eyes were meeting his through the gap in the books. "Why are you staring at that bag of chocolate-covered pretzels?" Project asked.
Makoto yelped, almost kicking a row of books out of place. But then he grinned triumphantly. "There you are!"
Project reached through the shelf and covered his mouth with one hand. (It was a strangely rough hand. The skin of his palm wasn't very soft.) "When people watch TV, it's because things are moving and making sounds," he said. "When people watch animals, it's because they're alive and might do interesting things. Why are you watching a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels? Why aren't you bored?" He lowered his hand, to let Makoto answer:
"I was. But I wanted to see if you'd come out."
"So you did something strange because you expected me to ask you why?"
"Well, no. I thought you'd maybe want the pretzels, and that you'd come and get them."
"Like a mouse trap."
"Yes."
"I see. So your goal was to find me, like everyone else, but your method was based on a faulty premise."
"Does that mean you don't like chocolate-covered pretzels?"
"I've never had them. And I'm not a mouse."
Makoto shuffled out from behind the shelf, grabbed the bag of pretzels, offered it to Project. "Here. You should try some. Do you need help opening the bag?"
Project stared at the bag for a second before opening it perfectly and taking one chocolate-covered pretzel out. He put it in his mouth, chewed it for a long time, in different parts of his mouth, and then finally swallowed it. "Hm. Give me the rest of the bag."
Sensing a moment of leverage, Makoto held the bag out of Project's reach. "I'll hold the bag, and I'll give you them one at a time. Okay?"
Project looked at his outstretched arm like it was an uninteresting toy. "Did you know that your family is not entitled to financial compensation if I injure you?"
"I don't know what that means. Do you want another pretzel?"
"Yes."
Makoto reached in the bag and gave Project another pretzel. "You have to keep not hiding, so I'll give you more. We could play on the computer with Komaru, if you want. She's my sister."
"I already have a computer."
"Yeah, but it's different when you play with different people."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Because different people have fun in different ways, so they can make you think things are fun that you didn't think were fun before."
Project stared at him and didn't say anything.
"It's this way," Makoto said, leading the way to the computer room.
Project followed him.
Komaru was playing a game where she ran a bakery and baked cakes for different customers who wanted different things. "Chocolate cake, vanilla frosting," she was whispering to herself urgently.
"When this round's over, switch to two-player," Makoto said.
"I want another pretzel," Project said. He was sitting on the bed a few feet away, so Makoto threw the next pretzel to him.
Project sprawled onto his back to catch it in his mouth, then straightened back up like nothing happened.
"Wow! That was really cool!"
Komaru screeched plaintively, at the prospect of something being cool behind her back.
"I always try to catch them in my mouth, but I'm really bad at it," Makoto continued.
"Other people are bad at most things," Project said while chewing.
"It's rude to talk with your mouth full," Komaru said, with the exact wording and cadence of their father.
"I want another pretzel."
For the next hour, Makoto and Komaru played on the computer, periodically offering Project turns on the game (which he always declined) and throwing pretzels to him from across the room whenever he asked for them.
(At some point, Mrs. Naegi peeked in on them and was visibly relieved that they'd found the missing house guest.)
When it came time for breakfast, Izuru wolfed his portions down as if he hadn't just finished a whole bag of chocolate pretzels.
"Wow. You were really hungry, huh?" Makoto said.
"I have a high metabolism."
"What's that?"
Project took a long time explaining that, and Makoto felt like he learned something, but he still didn't understand most of it.
For most of the day, Project didn't hide. Sometimes he did, but mostly he didn't. And eventually, they got him to play two rounds of the cake baking game and irreparably destroy their high score in pinball.
When nighttime came, he put on a pair of Makoto's pajamas. Mr. and Mrs. Naegi said that Project could sleep in Makoto's bed while Makoto slept in Komaru's room, but when Makoto snuck in later on during the night, the bed was still turned down like his parents had left it, and Project wasn't there. He and Komaru got flashlights and tiptoed around the house looking for him. They found him curled up in the pantry, so they went and got the blanket from Makoto's bed to put on him. Then they left him alone.
It was a strange and interesting couple of days. Makoto had fun, but he wasn't sure how much Project did. When the man in the white labcoat came and took him away, Makoto realized that they would probably never see each other again.
And then a few weekends later, he woke up to see Project sitting on his bed. "I installed CakeBakerz on my computer," he said, in greeting.
"You're back?" Makoto said, somewhere on the trail between sleepy and excited.
Project didn't answer.
"I didn't know you were coming again."
"Neither did Hope's Peak. I ran away from this weekend's host family. I would have done it last week, but I had to steal secret files to figure out your street address. I slept on the way, last time."
"You ran away?!"
Project was silent for a second, then said, "I don't know where your parents' legal culpability falls, in this matter, but I don't think Hope's Peak will press the issue, as long as I go back with them when the weekend is over. Do you want me to leave?"
"No! I just...I didn't think you had that much fun, last time you were here."
Project thought about that for a second. Then he filled his cheeks with air.
Makoto laughed, at that. And he filled his cheeks with air, too.
