{TFWSiHE/DR} Liliac
of course im doing a dagan ronpa arc for tfwsihe
after watching episode 11 i decided to write this up to deal w feelings and shit
Clapping.
It’s been a constant sound in my head all day. It began with an email. It was a vague plead — or maybe a threat? — to not return to Hope’s Peak Academy. It didn’t say more than that but ever since that first email I heard a clap. It began softly. . . but as the day drew out and more emails appeared, the louder the sound became. I’m not sure what it means, but slowly, it feels like I’m going mad. I know by this hour of the day Kuzuryuu would send me a text. Sometimes it was to chatize me for skipping class or to complain about something — even as simple as class was boring that particular day, how he ran into some idiot or a minor mention about how he was concerned about Komadea’s whereabouts, wherever he was. There was always some message left for me to read. . . but today, there was no such thing.
It felt wrong but I simply told myself it’s nothing for me to worry about. I know that. Maybe it was a busy school day and he has no time to sneak out his phone. . . but, in the depths of my mind, I know that’s bullshit. School already ended and yet there was no sort of contact. . .
Something was happening. I can feel it but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.
The only thing I’m certain of is that I can’t get in contact with anyone. No matter how many calls I attempt, all I can reach are answer machines after answer machines. Slowly, it was wearing me down and making my anxiety spike.
“Nanami-chan!” I gasped in relief. All my attempts to reach anyone was finally paying off. . . but it was uneasily dead quiet on her other side. Even when answering my calls, she usually would be playing a game one handed and my sensitive ears could pick up the music. I uneasily swallowed. “Nanami. . . are you okay?”
“Chiaki Nanami has passed on.” I froze. It was like everything shut down all at once. I will admit I’m surprised the phone didn’t escape my limp grasp as my jaw hug open as a fool, but could I really be blamed for such a reaction?
I didn’t want to believe it. It had a to be a prank. A rather cruel or un usual one because it would be easier to accept other than the fact my friend was . . . dead.
I tried to rummage through my brain for any possible explanation or reason. . . but I couldn’t find anything that stood out. It made no sense. Who would hurt her? She was always a nice and understanding person. Even eager to help me out on my project. . . who would. . .
Oh . . . Oh no . .
Was she attacked because she was helping me with my rehabilitation program? No. That can’t be possible. I put so much effort into it to made sure it wasn’t discovered. . .
But. . .
What if this really is my fault?
“You’re hyperventilating.” That cold and empty voice reminded me I was on the phone. I took a moment to compose myself and pressed firmly the phone to my ear once more. I have to see this. I have to see this for myself. It’s stupid but I don’t want to believe she’s actually dead unless I see the body myself. . . but then. . . If she’s really gone. . . I’ll have to accept it, won’t I? That helping me most likely caused her death. . . God. She didn’t deserve that for helping me. . . but. . .
I have to . . . I have to do my job. . .
“Where is the body. . .?” I practically feel disgusted by the words coming out of my mouth. I can’t believe myself. Asking to see my own friend’s body from a stranger.
“. . .Did you calm down that fast?”
. . .A really familiar sounding stranger. . .?
No way. It couldn’t be. . .
I must be going mad. . .
but. . .I know that voice. . .
“Ha. . .Hinata-kun. . .?”
The line went silent for a moment.
“She called me that too.”
“She? You mean. . . Nanami-chan?”
“You’re nervous.” For a moment, I dumbly blink. Was the line so quiet on his side he could easily pick up the sound of me tapping my nails against my desk? I place my hand in my lap to avoid anymore distractions in this conversation.
Still, that wasn’t a question . . . It was a statement. Hajime did the same thing, more as a means to point something out for entertainment, but the way he spoke made it sound like he made a rather clear, quick and intelligent observation. What happened to Hajime? He vanishes for half a year, causing turmoil and pain for both me and Nanami and then, all of a sudden, comes back as shit starts to fall apart. The worst part is that he, of all people, is telling me that my best friend is dead — in some uncaring emotionless voice.
Im just so. . .
“I’m. . . confused.”
“You have no idea what just occurred.” I could feel my blood run cold in response to his cold and accusatory tone, but the worst part was that he was right. I’ve been so wrapped up in trying to learn programming and bring my project to life I’ve avoided school for the last several days. All of those e-mails begging me not to return to the school had no impact on that decision in the long run. I’ve simply been working so hard and it coincidentally allowed me to avoid whatever was happening outside the walls of my home. Whatever chaos that took my dear friend from me. . .
but. . . what about Hiyoko? Kuzuryuu? Tsumiki? My class? Are they okay?
"How dull. . .”
And like that, Hajime hung up on me.
The dial tone fills my ears, but to be honest, it barely registers to me. I’m at a lost for words and a thousand thoughts run through my head. It feels like static is consuming me and the only sound that can truly reach me is white noise. Even the sound of my cellphone clanking against the surface of my desk fails to rouses me from my horrified stupor. Normally I would have freaked out if my phone hit the floor, or anything in general, but I can’t find the will to care for it. Right now, it’s so minuscule in the scheme of things.
Goddamn it. Why wasn’t I there? I should have listened to Fuyuhiko and gone to class instead of hiding in my house to work on a goddamn program. I could have done something. . . I could have saved Nanami. . . I could have. . . I should have. I should have done something more. These thoughts only let the uneasiness in my stomach only grow and churn like a storm at sea. I cover my ears, trying to stop the pressure from building behind my eyes, but it’s useless.Even as my body trembles and I try to curl in on myself, the white noise is so loud and it’s jointing with the eternal clapping in my ears.
I can’t explain how or why, but I can simply feel it now. Something truly terrible has happened to the people I love and care for all while I was hiding in the comfort of my home.
This isn’t fair. . .
We made so many promises. I swore to show her life in places she couldn’t reach. And we. . . we made a promise to complete my rehabilitation program so we could help people. . . Damn it. Even if we were to ignore the promises we made together, Nanami must have had many more. She of all people must have had many things left undone. . . Things she wanted to see and do. The Class of 77-B. . . we were supposed to graduate together. . . and I . .
Slowly, I peer over my arms and through my tears, looking over the cork board situated next to my desk. It was covered in little bits and pieces of my memories of the time I spent in Hope’s Peak.
Neatly tucked into the bottom frame of the board were the stubs from various movies I saw over the year. Some tickets came from a few girl’s night that both Nanami and myself were dragged to. It was a bit awkward at first but the tension seemed to vanish as we made ridiculous remarks at the scenes. There were also the pleasant occasions where Kuzuryuu offered to take me to a movie because he just ‘happened’ to have an extra ticket and he thought I would be interested in seeing the movie in question.
On centered on the right side of the board I used two pushpins to hang the Omamoris from Tsumiki (good health) and Peko (safety and protection) by their colored strings right above the ticket stubs. Because of their thoughtfulness, I’ve come to hold the two charms close to my heart. I never expected anyone to come and visit me while I was sick around New Years, much less to bring me gifts. I don’t remember much of the visit because I was as sick as a dog, but, their care and thoughtful nature always makes me smile.
Above the Omamcoris hung a few specially chosen keychains on their own pushpins since I didn’t have space for all of them. Thinking back to how I acquired them amuses me. I wasn’t sure what to request for my birthday and I ended up asking for keychains. From what I’ve been told everyone searched high and low for their idea of what could be the best keychain to give me. I received an interesting assortment of keychains; animal shaped, shoujo, video game and some that were handmade.
The left side of the board was covered in Mahiru’s professionally taken photos from various events and scenes over the school year. Our beloved sensei was missing from them due to her transfer but. . . but we were so happy. . .
My chest feels like it’s filling with a great warmth as I think of my dear friends. That smile on my face quickly screws into the most determined look I could muster, and I clench my fists as I jump to my feet. There was a year’s worth of memories pinned to this board. Even if it’s so far away now, they’re still valuable memories that I simply can’t disrespect by sitting here and crying. It’s for that reason. . . I have to get up and so something. Maybe someone from my class isn’t hurt. Maybe they’re in need of help, right now.
And I ha-. No. I must find Nanami’s body.
If I can’t put her soul to ease soon, she’ll become a monster or a restless soul that will be shackled to this world because of those feelings of unresolved things. I can’t let her suffer a fate like that. If this is all I can do. Then I have to help her, one last time.
TRACE CALL?
>YES NO
I never thought there would be a secret passage under the statue of the school’s founder, Izuru Kamakura, if I’m remembering right, but . . . it certainly exists. Taking a deep breath, I pull out my cellphone to light my way as I descend down the stairs. As I did, I could feel something. Something malicious in the air. I didn’t like it. It was too quiet and eerie. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of what existed down here and what happened to my friends.
“You’re not paying attention.” A voice suddenly rouses me from my jumbled thoughts. I jerk my cellphone in the direction of the voice to find. . . a very strange boy standing there, who amazingly did not flinch or change his expression at the light suddenly being shined at them. Instead, he just stated at me and I stared back, confused. That was definitely Hajime's voice I heard, however — just like on the phone — he simply spoke in monotone and bored tone. It was strange. It was definitely him, without a doubt, but he looked nothing like the Hajime I remembered.
He was wearing the same the same uniform he would wear as a Reserve Course Student — black loafers and slacks held up with a black leather belt, a white dress shirt and black tie under black suit blazer with all three buttons undone — and his familiar greens eyes that I’ve come to known were replaced with sinister and calculating red eyes — which had odd target radar-like symbols running across his pupils. His short, shaggy brown hair — even his silly ahoge — was gone. It was’t as if he was bald, it was quite the opposite. It was like he had too much hair now. Long messy strands of black hair obscured part of his face and nearly reached the floor. Even stranger, his skin tone had changed as well. Hinata always had a tanned complexion and many cute freckles on his face but now, he was sickly pale and blank as a canvas.
“What. . . ?” He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned away in order to head into the darker depths of this place. I was hot on his trail but when I told him to wait, he seemed to move faster. God. He was still a smarts and an asshole, wasn’t it? Even after. . . whatever the hell happened, he hasn’t changed too much.
Hopefully. . .
But that little hope seems to vanish as we walk down the hall together in silence. The clapping is louder than ever before. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m in new territory . . . or if its because of Hajime. Even if he’s physically changed, I don’t want it to believe its because of Hajime. He sounds cynical but he’s a realistic person that happens to think and worry a lot more than mot people. He’s smarter than he gives himself credit for and despite that he’s a total snarker and a huge nerd, but . . . He’s someone I trust.
There’s no way he can be causing these sounds.
“I could kill you.” Alarmed, I suddenly stumble over my feet, causing me to crash into Hajime’s backside and fall flat on my ass. Glancing up, I noticed he wasn’t looking my way as he began to elaborate himself. “You’re the kind that trusts too easily. It leaves you open and vulnerable.” In a flash, Hajime spun around and raised his fist, however, I easily backflipped away. He blinked slowly, as if he was taking in this new information I supplied him with.
“Yuuki Kazehaya. . .” He speaks the name slowly, as if suddenly mystified by it. “That’s not your real name, is it? No preacher would have skills to so swiftly and easily avoid that hit.”
“. . .No. It’s not.” I reply softly as I get to my feet. My fingers shake as I pull the white veil from my face, undoing the magic that kept my identity a secret for the last year. It’s not like I need it any more anyway. . . If today is the day, it will be the same day I’m leaving and no one will be able to prove I ever existed. The olive Greek complexion of my skin returns to the ethereal pale and hastily cut black hair changes to a light shade of blonde before growing out to reach my shoulders in a instant. “My name is. . . Khrystie Melody."
“That wasn’t an illusion.” It was a simple statement. No disbelief or confusion in his voice. I nod my head. He hums in return. There’s something like. . . curiosity on his face but it’s hard to tell as he takes my wrist and pulls me down the hallway. I stumble for a moment or two but manage to keep my footing and follow after him.
The sounds become louder — almost too complicated to tell them apart from my own rapidly beating heart — but finally, after an endless series of hallways we enter a wide room . . . I finally see her. Laying face down in her own blood that escaped form multiple holes, as if she was violently speared to death, was Nanami. I could feel my legs shaking, almost ready to give out but I willed myself to move closer to her. Once I was close enough, and I knew without a doubt that it was her, I kneeled down next to her. At this moment, I could careless that there was blood on my knees and the edges of my brown uniform skirt. I continued not to care as I rolled my friend onto her backside. Her face was twisted in pain and sadness, tears and blood.
Looking over her body, my sadness gave away to anger. Long before she was impailed, she was suffering. An injury to her right eye, the bone in her right arm is shattered, her leg stabbed with an arrow and a rather huge hole in her foot — too big compared to the holes in her body.
“Who did this. . .?” I find myself asking, my voice low and dangerous. Hajime simply stands behind me, shifting his weight onto one foot and crosses his arms. “Hajime! Answer me!” I snarl, snapping my head in his direction. To my surprise, his eyes widen with a margin of fear but that emotionless face appears once more.
“Junko. Junko Enoshima."
That name was some how familiar but I couldn’t quite place why. . . but, I’ll figure it out later. . .
“We need to go.” Hajime suddenly informs me. Without a response he calmly, but quickly, he makes long strides to one of the darker corners of the room where tall curtains obscure the view of anything behind it. Placing a hand to the back of Nanami’s neck and my other under her knees, I quickly hurry after him in order to join him behind the curtains. Plunged in darkness, I can feel his body pressing against mine and I’m certain the small sliver of light is showing off how flushed my face is. Either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
It’s. . . hard to tell unfortunately.
I open my mouth to question him but he quickly places his hand to my mouth. “Shut up.” With his other hand he points through the sliver between the curtain and the wall. Two girls stood around the spot where Nanami’s body previously bled out. . .
One was a rather tall young woman with an hourglass figure and . . . huge chest. She had big eyes and long, thick, strawberry blonde hair tied in two ponytails — one decorated with a white rabbit hairlip and the other used a large red and white bow. She was wearing a beige cardigan on top of her uniform shirt and a white tie loosely dangled around her neck. The sleeves of her white button-down top were rolled up to her elbows and the first few buttons were undone to expose the black bra she was wearing. To finish off her uniform, she was wearing a navy skirt and black platform boots with red laces.
The other young woman was a bit shorter with black bobbed hair and blue eyes but her eyes were much. . . sharper and precise than the other girl’s, which looked analytical. She was a bit paler than the other girl that made it easy to see the freckles that lightly decorated the bride of her nose. Her clothes were much simpler — boiling down to just a white dress shirt with a red ribbon around the collar, a brown uniform skirt, black knee length socks and loafers and a pair of light brown leather gloves.
The second girl was. . . off. No matter how normal she looked compared to the other girl, the way she walked and carried herself was as if she was a soldier but that couldn’t be right. She was only a high school student. Then again, Hope’s Peak Academy searched for all sorts of skilled children. . . maybe finding a child soldier wasn’t that hard for them. . .?
“Ehh? Where’s the class representative’s body?” The ponytailed girl questions, hands on her hips as she kicks around the puddle of blood.
“I don’t know.” The other replies. The ponytailed girl huffs before slamming her boot into the other girl’s stomach causing her to land flat on her back and proceeds to step on her stomach.
“You stupid ugly bitch, don’t you know how to do anything?!” Talk about a mood swing. Moments ago she seemed so laid back but in a split second she flipped to rage. . . .and the other girl looks like she’s really. . . enjoying getting stepped on.
“B-But — aaah! — I-I was with you t-the whole tim—eek!"
“Getting of on your little sister punishing you? You’re such a pig Mukuro!” The pigtailed girl grinned, kicking the black haired girl — Mukuro — in the side, forcing her to roll over onto her back. She expertly, and happily, takes her punishment as the pigtailed girl stomps on her backside. “Well, even if it is your fault the body is gone, it’s not like it matters. Chiaki Nanami is dead.” She ceases kicking Mukuro to let out a dreamy sigh as she clasps her hands. "and her dear friends have fallen into an endless sea of despair. They were the ones that probably took it, maybe they’ll crucify her body for all to see!”
"B-But didn't we miss one of her classmates?” Mukuro asks as she submissively sits on her knees before the other girl. The pigtailed girl suddenly looks bored. She begins to check her red nails and pick dirt from them. I couldn’t help but be baffled by this girl’s good swings. Seriously. What is up with her?
"Ah. That preacher chick, right?" The pigtailed girl lets out a hum. "She was a preacher for some Goddess of Hope; Her lessons of hope, friendship, love and care captivated just about anyone who heard her sermons. . .” She shorts. “How ironic that she abandoned her friends when they needed her the most." The pigtailed girl starts to laugh, a sound that would later come to haunt me. "Upupu~ Maybe my loyal despairs will find her. Won't it be fun to watch all she's ever believed in and preached about fall apart before her very eyes." The young woman wraps her arms around herself, nearly salivating with joy. "To watch a woman of hope fall apart and crumble to utter despair is beautiful! What a joy it would be to watch that! Oh she'd be useful to my plans if she begin sermons of a new goddess! A Goddess of Despair!"
"She'd refuse, wouldn't she?” Mukuro asks. Immediately, the pigtailed girl stops laughing. She gives Mukuro a pointed look before grinning in an utterly delightful and terrifying way.
"That's why we have the Despair Video. All she has to do is watch it and she’ll become become my preacher and tell the world of the wonders of despair!” She giggles once more, spins on her heel and makes her way to the exit, a spring in her step. "Lets go Mukuro, we still have plenty of work to do~"
"C-Coming Junko. . .” Mukuro stumbles, rising after her feet to follow the young woman out of the room through the way they came. I, on the other hand, was frozen as I took in the information those two spewed.
Junko.
So the terrible woman who killed Nanami and harmed my classmates, was none other than a student at the school? How did such a student get into the school in the first place? What was her goal? What was her obsession with despair? I couldn’t understand this at all.
“What’s your next step?” Hajime questioned as he pushed the curtain back and stepped into the light once more. Right. I can’t stay here. The Tragedy is coming and I have to leave with my findings in order to help resolve this situation. . . but there was something I had to do first.
Kneeling down, I placed the lower half of Nanami’s body on the floor and used the hand placed at the back of her neck to tilt her torso back. I take a deep breath before raising my other hand to her chest.
“Nanami. . . please come out. . . I know it must be hard. . .dealing with the fact you’re dead, but, we can’t leave our friends the way they are. We can still help them. . . I can combine an AI with your soul, the culmination if all your memories, heart and feelings, and you can help rehabilitate them in the program. Help them realize who they truly are and achieve what only they can do.” And as I hoped, a sparkling ball of gray-pink light left Nanami’s body. Gently, it floated about, as if she was waiting.
“Will you really complete the rehabilitation program?”
“I’ll find help. . . no matter how long it takes, I will complete it and help our friends.”
“I’m glad. . .I want to see them all. Even if it's one more time. . .” I smiled softly, my expression torn between pain and genuine happiness. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a glass jar that had a string around its short neck and a cork selling it shut. Unsealing the bottle, an unseen force proceeded to suck Nanami’s soul inside and once she was safely inside, I sealed the bottle once more. Strangely, it felt familiar and melancholy as I held Nanami’s sealed soul. I don’t quite know why. . . regardless, stowing the bottle away in my bag, I lifted Nanami’s limp body into my arms and made my way to the exit.
Quietly, Hajime followed behind me.
Surprisingly, the rain had stopped by the time I emerged from the secret passage but I could hear riots in the distance — students demanding justice for reasons unknown to me — however, for the time being, I ignored them. As quietly as I could, I snuck through the thicket that surrounded the school and escaped from the campus. The soil was damp and easily gave away under my footing, causing me to slip and fall. I let out a yelp as I tumbled downward, thankfully remembering to clutch my friend’s body close to my own and save her from getting too messy.
A shrine is too far and I don’t want to bring her body home to her parents. . . so at the edge of a stream, I decided this would be a good place as any to prepare a small funeral for Nanami. With a motion of my hand, water raised from the stream to wash over Nanami’s body — removing dirt, specks of blood and mud — before returning to its source. I reach into my bag, I pulling out a sewing kit and the lovely white dress I received from my godmother for Christmas.
Looking over the length of the dress I decided it should be enough fabric to modify her uniform into a kimono and so, once I dragged my hands down her clothes, dying all of it white, and the sewing kit began to do the work on it’s own. The forces of magic lifted Nanami off the ground so it could work without any issues; first the red ribbon around the collar of her shirt was removed along with her backpack and placed to the side for the moment. The tools move with expertise and precision, snipping fabrics and seamlessly stitch fabric back together in order to create a unique but presentable makeshift kimono. With the job done, the tools automatically placed themselves back where they belonged.
“It’s folded the wrong way.” A shriek suddenly escapes me. With my concentration gone in an instant, Nanami ceases floating and falls, thankfully, into my arms. Looking to the source, I wonder why I had not expected this. Once again, it’s Hajime. However, this time he’s appeared with something over his shoulder. . . I can’t quite tell what is it is but I’m not threatened by them. . . but to be honest, I am anxious of him and him alone. Maybe its because I haven’t seen him in six months and he suddenly reappeared with no rhyme or reason? As glad as I am to see him, it is weird.
“Hajime, what the heck. . .?” I find myself muttering. “How did you find me?” He lets out a deep sigh, still carrying whatever is over his shoulder, and approaches me with a bored expression.
“The footsteps I followed matched your size and the imprints were deep enough in the mud to indicate whoever left the prints was carrying something of equal mass.” He simply explains. “You’re lucky no one found your tracks before I did.”
“Oh. . .”
Jesus christ.
What an intelligent response.
To save myself from this awkward situation, I motion to the object he’s carrying. It looks rather long. . . like. . . a casket?
“What’s that Hajime?”
“A casket. I made it myself.” He states, dropping it on the ground before me. For a moment I flinch, not expecting him to abruptly drop it, but as I examine it I can’t help but be in awe of the craftsmanship. No splinters, just smooth wood with a beautiful shine. Its not even awkwardly shaped at all. There doesn’t seem to be any flaws at all. It’s so well made that it would be impossible for anyone to tell it was made by hand.
“A casket? I didn’t know you could make one. . . “ I find myself murmuring as I carefully place Nanami’s body inside the box. Without blinking, Hajime leans down and begins to fix her kimono. In swift movements he undoes the obi to cross the front right side of the kimono over the left side. For a moment, I forgot that was the proper way the decease wears the kimono. I guess my head was in such a tizzy I didn’t even notice it.
“It’s my talent.” Hajime suddenly mutters as he pulls six yen coins from the pocket of his uniform. He gazes at the coins for several moments before placing them in Nanami’s limp hand and gently forcing her hand to close into a fist around the coins. He then places the hand on her chest and the other on top of it to make it look like she’s praying.
“I, uh, I didn’t know carpentry was your talent Hajime.” I fumble as I tuck her bag into the casket. Looking away from the face of my deceased friend I find Hajime staring right at me with his red eyes.
“It’s not.” I stare at him for several moments with a blank expression before it twisted into outright confusion. Then how did he make this casket? It’s too good to be something made by someone who has no talent or knowledge in how to make one. So, is he trying to say he just happen to have it laying around?
No.
That’s just. . . too bullshit to be real but what the hell did he even mean?
“What?”
“Super High School Level Hope, Izuru Kamakura. That is who I am."
If my face wasn’t screaming what the fuck before, it was now. It had to be. Izuru Kamakura? That was the name of the school founder and what the hell is SHSL Hope? Was hope even an actual talent? Even then, how does having hope mean you’re good at carpentry? Even if I was an individual training to become the next Goddess of Hope, this made no sense at all.
“Since when?” I demand incredulously.
“Ever since I woke up.” He responds calmly and as if this isn’t a troubling concept. “I am Hope Peak’s dream. A man with every talent, born to deliver hope to all. . . but, I lack the talent you posses. The feats you can do are no illusion but are impossible to perform. . . and yet you do. You defy all logic, reason and expectations. I suppose, that’s why I haven’t killed you. I’m interested in you.” My face flushed — to which he immediately responded with ‘not that way’ — but that didn’t make me feel any less awkward.
“I guess. . . that’s why you never reacted to me calling you ‘Hajime’, huh?”
“A useless name for a useless person.” He states this as if it was a fact. A fact that he was a useless person. Jesus Christ.
“I’ll fight you on that.” I huff, crossing my arms. “There’s more to life than talent and Hajime was a wonderful person.”
“Then why was I created?” Haji- no, Izuru questions, his tone as empty as before. “I was created because mankind needed someone with my talent.”
“Your talents aren’t even real!” I argue back. “Talents or hope isn’t something you can just. . . jam into a person! Talent is something that comes naturally and hope is something you inspire into others, you can’t just . . . fake that stuff!”
“And yet, here we are.” Izuru states simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Or, are you simply mad that you were never able to confess to who I was before?”
What.
“How pitiful. You never realized the extent of your own feelings. You showed all signs and symptoms of being attracted to the past me. You blushed often, kept eye contact, maintained physical contact, you were often lost for words, your breath caught and your heart excellerated. You were always excited to be by his side.”
“Just. . . shut up.” I weakly mutter.
To be completely honest, I have no idea if I liked Hajime or not. I never put thought into it before and to have all of this pointed out to me, when its too late to even talk to Hajime, is just. . . mockery? Its painful to think of what could have happened if he knew or if I knew sooner. I let out a dejected sigh before glancing around for some sticks however, Izuru flips out a lighter from the breast pocket of his coat. Huh. As SHSL Hope, he’s probably good with fire and pyrotechnics now. . . but I can’t help but be concerned that he’s just carrying a lighter. Ignoring it for the moment I take the lighter from him and with a flick of my thumb against the flint wheel, the lighter produced a small flame.
“Well, I know you’re with me Nanami but I want to make sure you’re properly sent off before things get any worst around here. You were a really kind and helpful person. . . thanks for everything you did. . .” I look to Izuru but his face clearly says he has no idea what to say. That or he really doesn’t care to say anything. Nonetheless, I drop the lighter into the casket, setting her Nanami aflame. For two hours, I stayed by her side until there was nothing but bone and ashes left behind. I was surprised that Izuru decided to return to the impromptu funeral and cremation after leaving forty five minutes in but he returned with a beautiful white urn decorated with swirling flower designs and two pairs of chopsticks.
Silently, we worked together to pull her bones from the ashes and carefully place them in the urn from her toes to her neck. Once all other bones were stored in the jar, we placed her skull inside and sealed it shut. I stared at the urn, suddenly apprehensive of it. Nanami’s remains are inside. . . but shouldn’t it be delivered to the shrine her family has a grave at? I don’t know where that is and I doubt I’ll have enough time before Jossie comes to get me.
“I’ll take care of it.” Izuru simply states, his eyes closed. “Your face says everything.” Thought his expression was bored, his eyes seemed to shine with a hint of pain. How long was he like that. . .? Even though he can’t recall being Hajime, he can feel pain for the loss of Nanami? Maybe, even though the mind cannot recall, his heart can? It was a strange concept but. . . maybe. . . maybe I can use it to improve my rehabilitation program.
Maybe. . .
“Wait, before you go. . .” I call out to Izuru. I reach into my bag and pull out a switchblade knife. “Take this.” Shifting Nanami’s urn into one arm, he takes the knife and expertly flips the blade out. He repeats the motion a few more times before pocketing the closed blade. "I’ve had this for a while, I don’t really remember where I got it from, but it’s gotten me out of some situations before. So, stay alive until I return to help you.”
“Help me?”
“I want to help all of my friends. . . I doubt you knew this would become of you. . . and my friends are suffering because of Junko. I want them to be happy and safe. . . so, once I finish the program, I’ll be able to come back. . ."
“. . .I’ll wait for that day.” He murmurs softly. “I want to see your idea of hope."
“Until then. . ."
“Until then."
Even if today is the day I was foretold about, the day I couldn’t avoid no matter what work I attempted to do to prevent it, I have to do something.
I was given the choice to kill class 77-B or find an alternate method to deal with them at the beginning of all of this but, long ago, I decided to take the ‘other’ option. The memories I’ve built have shown me the true feelings and emotions my friends have carried. There’s no way they would willingly bring forth The Biggest, Most Atrocious Despair Inducing Incident in Human History if they had any choice. . . and I cannot strike down a person who was forced or manipulated to do terrible things. Refusing to give help to those who need it is bullshit in my books.
One thing is truly clear to me right now.
My friends need help and I will give it to them, even if it takes me years.