(550 words)
Fandom: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Rating: PG
Characters: Hinata Hajime, Komaeda Nagito
Summary: Short, unhappy, off-beat. Set after chapter 4 trial.
Title refers to my eye color headcanon for Komaeda and Hinata, because complementary colors are sexy.
<><><>
"Why do you talk like that, Komaeda?”
I blinked away the shock of being put on the spot, exuding as much nonchalance as I could muster. With a tilt of the head, I asked for clarification without revealing fear.
“Why do you have to sound so eager to run off and get murdered? When you act like that…” Hot bolts of clear goldenrod, focused on me—a stare that could melt lead.
“It pisses me off."
I believed I was beginning to melt, myself.
Whether his question was earnest, or he was just rhetorically declaring his displeasure, I couldn't help but fret inside. I didn't have much of a stomach for lying, but deflection was still a viable option.
"Don't misunderstand me, I'm offering my life as a means of turning the tables here. And although it's true I don't mind dying, I’m self-aware enough to realize my death would have to be meaningful.” That gut-wrenching anxiety redoubled as he scowled a hole through my skull in skepticism.
“It’s unfortunate for me, but I don't think I'm capable of anything but a complicated death."
He rested his face in both palms for a moment, taking a deep breath before staring back up at me with startling deference. It was as if that glare had flared out and exhausted itself, exhausting him.
"What are you talking about now—do you mean your luck? So you're saying you're immune to mundane deaths?" I shrugged. This late in the game, the details weren't all that important. He shouldn’t even have struck up a conversation—the other five would only grow suspicious. By all rights, we shouldn’t be speaking.
"I suppose I'm just saying the conditions would have to be specific. At the moment, I've been making my every decision based on the fact that I have nothing to lose. So the ante isn't high enough yet."
Hinata was quiet for a long time. He leaned back, pushing away from the book-laden table, the screech of wooden chair legs echoing through the empty library.
"I don't understand a word you're saying. So you don't think you'll die unless there's something at stake?"
"Or perhaps I'll die the very instant I finally perceive I have a reason to live. Being honest, though, I'm not sure even I could be that lucky." My smile could not have reached my eyes—cadet grey, cold and bereft of raison d'etre. He jumped out of his chair, and it was all I could do not to jump myself. The glare was flaring up again, the cooldown was over.
"Have you ever tried, I don't know, not thinking about life that way?"
"Not in a good long while, no."
I had to turn away then, because lately the heat in those eyes left me feeling so wretched I could barely breathe.
Perhaps because I had a job to do.
<><><>
They burst into the warehouse, and over the cacophony of music and machinations set in motion, I heard a voice scream out my name with trembling anger and piercing concern. An unexpected thrill, more pure than any I had ever known, wracked my body and at last, from the depths of my stuttering heart, I knew.
Time came to a standstill as rope slipped through my slackened fingers.
(1460 words)
Fandom: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Rating: PG
Characters: Hinata Hajime, Komaeda Nagito
Summary: Just a short, fluffy little Dangan Island fic about Komaeda's first experience with White Day.
Notes: Set during everyone's favorite canon non-despair AU, Dangan Island. This is really simple/dumb, but I just wanted to write something cute and self-indulgent for White Day. Carry on.
<><><>
One month ago, the hotel kitchen bustled with activity as the girls rushed to prepare a few precious chocolate treats. Now, the kitchen was empty but for Komaeda, who seemed to be the only one who felt a gift of handmade sweets ought to be reciprocated in kind. This was his first ever opportunity to make a proper White Day gift, though, and he was buzzing with nerves. Chocolate didn’t seem unique enough. Instead, he pulled a large box of eggs from the refrigerator.
When Komaeda looked at meringue, he saw a treat full of potential—it looked sweet, even a bit shiny, and it could be any flavor under the sun. The technique could be a bit tricky, too, so there was always the potential for catastrophic failure. That only made it more exciting. To him, it was that potential that made it special, but the underlying taste was also something mystical. He could never put his finger on it, but it had an indescribable flavor.
Komaeda had grown fond of making this particular treat in the care of his favorite nanny. Like the others before her, she was payed by his parents estate to attend his needs at home, and she was a talented chef. No one ever topped her. No one ever came to fill her shoes when she left, anyhow.
He was a bit lost in thought as he set up the kitchen mixer. It was hard to believe a month had already flown by since Monomi’s big fuss over Valentine's Day. As soon as February rolled around, she marked the date on the large calendar in the cafeteria, and took every opportunity to remind the students that love was in the air. They were just teenagers, after all, and stuck in a bizarre situation to boot. It was no surprise when the tension over fuzzy feelings became rather unbearable.
Komaeda sighed, unable to still his fluttering heart. He was not exempt from this trend. In spite of his best efforts to keep his classmates at a safe distance, Hinata Hajime had stumbled his way through those emotional barriers, right into Komaeda’s heart. When he’d been foolish and collapsed from overworking somewhere on the island, Hinata would be there to take care of him. He sat and listened, to anything Komaeda had to say. No matter how many times Komaeda warned him of the consequences, he didn’t seem deterred.
Disarmed by this kindness, he fell head over heels in the blink of an eye. He could admit that to himself, but he had quite a different perspective on the whole situation than his fellow students. After all, in the unlikely event of reciprocated feelings, only bad luck would follow—the worst kind. In the end, nothing could come of his awkward crush. He knew his place this Valentine's Day should be on the sidelines, cheering on his classmates with a smile.
He watched Gundam's hamsters receive chocolate covered sunflower seeds from the princess herself. Even Owari managed to cobble together a sweet gift for Nidai. The girls that didn’t hand out chocolates made some to share amongst themselves, and they seemed to enjoy that, too. The spirit of the day was warm and pleasant, even over Souda and Hanamura’s loud complaints.
When Komaeda had arrived back at his cabin that day to find the arm of his mailbox raised, he paused out of suspicion. There was a flicker of hope for a moment before he tempered it, trying to rationalize it away. It was just a prank. Someone was just trying to remind him of the fact he already was well aware of—there was no one thinking of him that day.
The inside of the mailbox indicated otherwise.
At the mouth of the mailbox sat a tiny package wrapped in brown paper with no note, no markings whatsoever. Fingers shaking, he reached out and took it. Maybe the prank was more elaborate—perhaps it would explode?
But inside, there was a piece of dark chocolate in shape of the six pointed star, and one of Monomi's heart-marked playing cards. She'd given a few to everyone at the beginning of their field trip. That meant... someone wanted to spend time with him?
He was someone's... Valentine?
There had to be some mistake. Was someone pulling his leg after all? Komaeda knew better than anyone else—he was nobody special. No one among such sterling company would hold him in any special regard, no matter how much he wished that weren’t so.
Stricken with conflicting emotions over the anonymous gift, he staggered into his cabin and stayed holed up in there for the rest of the day.
Afraid of the consequences, he never tried to piece together who would stoop so low as to send the likes of him a Valentine. He still was more than happy to follow through with making a White Day gift for the anonymous admirer. Humming a little to himself, he was almost done whipping the meringue when Hinata wandered into the kitchen.
"Komaeda?”
Startled by the intrusion, Komaeda took a few steadying breaths before he could answer. He had to focus on not spilling the mixture.
“Oh, hello there, Hinata-kun, what brings you here?”
“I thought I heard someone back here, but I can’t say I was expecting it to be you.” He strolled over and took a peek at the preparations. “What're you making?"
Behind a sheepish smile, Komaeda felt self-conscious about explaining the truth of the situation. Still, lying didn't feel right. He took another deep breath.
"The truth is, last month, I received a rather unexpected sentiment in my mailbox… On Valentine's Day, you see."
He blushed as Hinata raised his eyebrows.
"Oh? So then… No way, is this your White Day gift? And handmade, too!" He whistled, impressed. "Didn't know you could cook."
Komaeda blushed harder as he started spooning the meringue into a pastry bag.
"Hopefully they'll be decent. I even prepared a note to leave on my mailbox, so they'll be noticed."
Hinata frowned.
"Sorry, you're going to have to explain that one."
Stiff and awkward, Komaeda tried to keep on with the prep work, piping the meringues out onto a baking sheet even as his fingers were trembling. His circumstances were embarrassing, but he was even more embarrassed explaining them to the one person he'd rather be making sweets for.
"My valentine was completely anonymous. Ah, but who could blame them? Who among our classmates would call the likes of me their valentine? Determining the recipient of my return gift is impossible, so I'll just put it back right where they put my gift. I hope they'll find it."
Hinata stepped closer as Komaeda pulled the spoon out of the bowl to refill the bag. Taking Komaeda's hand in his with gentle force, he leaned forward to scoop some meringue off the back of the spoon with his tongue. The softness of the gesture caused Komaeda to seize up, breath caught in his throat.
"H-Hinata-kun, please don't, this... this is for—"
Hinata looked him square in the eyes, meringue stuck in the corner of his lips. His lips. Komaeda knew he shouldn’t be staring but—
"For your Valentine, right? I know."
The kitchen echoed in silence.
"You... know?"
Brazenly reaching his fingers into the bowl as Komaeda stammered, Hinata sampled a bit more.
"I just wanted to try some of this stuff while it was still fresh. Avoid the wait. Since I'm here and everything." He tapped Komaeda on the nose, leaving a shiny meringue print behind on his dumbstruck face.
Avoid the wait, he said.
"Y-you—!"
Hinata laughed, and he sounded a bit nervous even as he took a clean dishcloth to Komaeda’s beet-red face, cleaning off the bit of sugar.
"I’m sorry about not leaving a note, but I chickened out at the last minute. You don’t know how hard it was to keeping it secret while I was stuck in here making chocolate with all the girls…” he muttered, turning quite red himself as he wiped off his hands.
“Anyway. I was planning on fessing up later that day, but you never left your cabin, so I was wondering if maybe you didn't take it well?"
Komaeda was at a loss for words. It was Hinata. After all that fretting, it was Hinata. Somehow, in that instant, he felt it could only ever have been Hinata.
"N-no, that isn’t—I mean, I... You're… I’m so happy you’re..."
His stumbling words were wrapped up in a sudden, warm embrace.
"Happy late Valentines Day, Komaeda."
"Hinata-k—!"
He could never put his finger on it, but meringue had an indescribable flavor. Perhaps it was the taste of first kisses, Komaeda mused. Or maybe it was the other way around.
(2084 words)
Cross-posted to AO3
Fandom: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Rating: T
Characters: Hinata Hajime, Komaeda Nagito
Summary: It can be it difficult to share space with someone who already fills your thoughts.
Notes: I’ve been struggling with writing a long, post-game SDR2 fic for a while now, so this was just a short exercise to vent some thoughts about Hinata and Komaeda between chapters three and four.
<><><>
The trial was grueling, even more so after it became clear the culprit had no intention of accepting our verdict with grace. After the votes were cast, Tsumiki slathered us in honeyed words, dripping with disdain. Emotions ran high, as always. No one else spared the time to care when she bared her smiling fangs at Komaeda, biting into him with poisonous pity. The flash of anguish on Komaeda’s face shocked me—she had rendered him speechless. I couldn’t look away; that brief exchange sickened me. It wasn’t the carefree way Tsumiki exposed Komaeda’s weakness, or even the truth behind her words. Rather, it was the horrified look on his face. It was a pure emotion—no pretense, no grin to mask the pain—she had hurt him, struck him deep. What was this feeling? Why did the look on his face make me so nauseous?
A life without love or forgiveness… On the surface, no one would guess such a thing would bother a guy like Komaeda. After all, he was prone to acting out in rash, dangerous ways, pushing people to the brink in the name of his beliefs. Still, if his dedication to that cause was strong enough, what exactly might he be sacrificing along the way?
“All I want is to foster everyone’s hope, even if that means being hated by you… Even it costs me my life.”
When I first heard those words, I’d brushed them off. I thought he was just making excuses but, in hindsight, things were starting to become a little muddled. What happened between us in the hospital, the things he said to me in his fever induced state—I’d acted like a coward. I’d all but stuffed my fingers in my ears and took the easy way out. But how was I supposed to respond to such a sudden, honest confession like that? Lying fever my ass—it allowed him to speak from the heart, for once, but I was not ready to listen.
Why did truth have to be so much more terrifying than lies?
At breakfast the next morning, we were adjusting to Nidai’s ‘upgrades’ while figuring out our next move. Of course, Komaeda had to go and open his big, arrogant mouth again, dragging me back into the spotlight. So what if I still couldn’t remember my talent, by what logic did that make me the traitor? A traitor with no memories couldn’t be much of a threat, anyway. Still, that didn’t stop his cheerful words from planting seeds of suspicion in the others, even I could see that much. What the hell was his game—did he believe I was the traitor, or was he just pulling our strings again? He acted all the more pleased with himself when Monokuma baited us with our school profiles. As if learning my talent was supposed to be my end-all, be-all reason to exist anymore. What business was it of his, anyway? I resented feeling like he saw me not as a person, but as a puzzle—a puzzle missing just one, tantalizing piece.
In the hour before we all were supposed to meet up and explore the new island, I broke away from the group. Concerned eyes may have followed me, but I took off in a brisk walk towards the park to try and clear my head. The island sun was brutal as ever. After a lap around the perimeter, I wandered down the path toward the ‘statue’ and dropped onto the nearest bench. The palm leaves above me offered little shade, hanging still in the stagnant air. It was almost noon.
Trying to relax there in the blinding light, I didn’t notice him right away. He stood there in plain sight, staring up at the countdown clock, lost in thought as the sun soaked through his cotton hair.
“Ah—” I muttered in surprise, before thinking better of it, and his back went rigid. With a strange hesitance, he peered over his shoulder at me and offered a husky ‘hello’ before turning back to the clock. He seemed determined to keep staring at it, as if it were excuse enough to ignore me.
So it was a standoff.
I tried ignoring him. How hard could it be? I laid my head back on the bench and closed my eyes, but the angry red sun bled through, and inside I felt the same. Anger and hurt were bleeding through, as if cascading off of Komaeda in waves. Or was it coming from me? I hated that it hurt—my own pain betrayed me. At times like this, when it was hard to even be near Komaeda, I always thought back to his gentle voice on the beach. He was kind. He wanted to help me. I wanted to help him too, but what good was that feeling when I couldn’t even enjoy a moment of silence with him? Existing in the same space filled me with anxiety… because I didn’t know what he was thinking. Because I didn’t know what I wanted.
The tension was awful, and I couldn’t believe he was oblivious to it. Finally, I opened my eyes to see him him shuffling his feet a bit. He turned to lean against the base of the statue, facing away from me. Komaeda was fidgeting—uncomfortable, maybe? Because I showed up? Then a funny thought occurred to me—funny only because it made too much sense.
I wasn’t the only one out trying to clear my head.
So I said the first thing that came to mind.
“You don’t have a clue who the traitor is, do you? You’re just trying to stir things up.”
I could see a sad smile caress his face, even in profile, and he suffered a few false starts before the words came out.
"What I said back there—I take it that upset you?"
The urge to flip the bench I was sitting on almost overwhelmed me.
"Of course it did!" I spat back, insecure in the familiar nausea I felt upon seeing that flash of sadness. "No matter how you look at it, accusing someone of being a traitor over breakfast is just… rude." Feeling lame, I crossed my arms in a huff.
Komeada chuckled under his breath.
"It wouldn’t do to lie about it, though, you’re the most suspicious—the most interesting one of the lot. There’s something different about you, and I’m grasping at straws as usual, but maybe that’s it. Maybe it really is that simple—" and he finally leaned away from the statue to look me in the eye, "maybe you’re this supposed traitor?" Even as he said so, Komaeda looked doubtful, like he didn’t know quite how to feel about the idea himself. I leaned forward to the edge of my seat, struggling to keep calm.
"You sound like you’re not so sure it’s a bad thing."
"There’s no way I could make a judgment call like that!" He waved his hands in dismissal, trying to force a convincing smile. "Still, it’s not like we have enough reliable information to draw any conclusions. If you ask me, I think the word ‘traitor’ might even be a little misleading."
I frowned.
"What makes you say that?"
Komaeda crossed his arms in thought, but I didn’t miss him sneak me the briefest of sideways glances. He looked suspicious of me, but in an odd way—like he was wary of me encouraging a conversation for once. What was he worried about? Did Komaeda even get self-conscious? Somehow, the thought had never occurred to me.
"So we’re trapped between this ‘foundation’ and… whoever Monokuma represents, but we can’t know who’s in the right. When faced with a threat like Monokuma, though, it seems logical that the traitor is the lesser of two evils—if they are indeed evil at all."
I couldn’t even humor him at this point.
"They trapped us here and stole our memories" I countered, voice flat, but something in those words struck a chord in both of us. Memories.
Stolen memories.
That fake smile fell to pieces. He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes wide with some realization. Komaeda looked away, worrying at his left hand, muttering to himself, “Maybe we… Maybe we—”
"Maybe we deserved it? Is that what you’re trying to imply?" Even as creeping fear washed over me I threw my hands up in defeat, staring at him in piercing disbelief. "What on Earth could we have done to deserve something like this?"
He blanched, paler than the day he caught fever, and I shrunk back. What the hell was—
"I-I’m sorry, Hinata-kun," he muttered, shrugging out of discomfort. He took a small sidestep towards the path, like he was ready to bolt. "That fever left me with some nasty nightmares, and I just haven’t been sleeping well, lately. So."
I tried to lock eyes with him.
"Since when did you need an excuse to speak your mind?"
Footsteps frozen, he stood there wavering and it was so unlike any side of him I’d seen before. Maybe it served me right for bursting in and interrupting his thoughts, but I grew concerned in spite of myself. Concern for Komaeda was a rare commodity on this island. I didn’t like being its sole proprietor.
“Y’know what? Forget it. I’m sorry I even bothered” I said, launching myself off the bench in one swift motion. He flinched again, but I didn’t stop to look as I stalked past him, out of the park. I meant it, I was sorry. I felt sorry for myself because I felt sorry for someone like Komaeda. I didn’t know it yet, but that guilt complex was going to cost me big.
“Hinata-kun—”
I didn’t hear him. Even as his soft, tenuous voice dared to reach out to me, I convinced myself that I did not hear him.
I was a coward. I was not ready to listen.
<><><>
The trial was grueling, as there was no relief from my bitter disappointment even after the culprit accepted our verdict with grace. We cast our votes, and Tanaka-kun took his bow, and walked toward his execution with honor. His sacrifice was noble, overflowing with hope, but I had no praise to give. I was bereft. It was all for nothing—everything was tainted now, tainted by words in a large black binder.
The truth was a brutal departure from the pleasant lie we had been fed when we’d arrived.
Masks all torn away now, I could see my miraculous classmates for who they truly were. I could feel all the way to the roots of my deep-seated self loathing. We were monsters. Rather than trying to inspire such unworthy creatures, I knew then what my purpose must be. There was no more room for doubt—I had to steel myself against my wavering heart. Lashing out at Hinata-kun was the last thing I wanted to do, as it was a waste of time, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the only way I could mitigate such abject misery—I had to detach myself, in case he was not the traitor as I’d hoped. Still, did he have to look so pitiful, so deeply wounded? It was an understandable emotion—the words were sure to be hurtful—but why did that hurt me in turn? What was this feeling? Why did those sad eyes make me feel so ill at ease?
Vague memories kept trickling through the hazy filter of that fever. I could feel his sturdy arms carrying me to the hospital; I could hear his stern voice, making sure I got there. On top of all that, he even came to visit me. He came to visit me, and my luck made sure that, even though I poured my heart out to him in delirium, my secret would remain obscured. I wished I’d dreamed it all, but I knew that would be far too convenient. Fate had a cruel way of fulfilling my dreams while keeping them just out of reach.
Closing the large black binder, I stashed it back underneath my bed. I shuddered to think of how beautifully my plan might unfold if Hinata-kun turned out to be the traitor after all. The alternative was almost too painful to bear thinking about, but in the end, I wondered if what Tsumiki-san said held true…
Regardless of what I planned to do, could something like love transcend my sins?
First post. Uh.
This is intended to be a writing blog: primarily a fandom-related writing blog.
So, right, this is a fanfic blog. Keep the fog lights on, beware of passing ships.
Other fandom-related detritus may occasionally wash up here as well.
Safe sailing, comrades.
