Afflicted

by Igirisuhito

Summary:

Monokuma has a fresh new motive! Monomi has been a bit too comfortable lately, so why not let the chains go and let the biggest secret they're trying to suppress manifest within the simulation under the guise of illness?
[UPDATED AND REWRITTEN 2025]

Notes:

This fic was originally published in 2019-2020. I have since rewritten it in 2023 as my writing skill improved and added more chapters. Will it be completed? No. But I am proud of what I have done and think I would like people to see it. If you're revisiting this, hi!! Thankyou!! I love you!!

The first 3 chapters are in 1st person. Yes it's unpleasant. I wanted to make it game-like. I'm sorry. It's a bit funny.

Chapter 1: Pyrexia

“Hghh-GAH!”

I find myself shooting up out of bed with a start, my voice involuntarily ripping itself from my throat. I can feel my body shake with each laboured breath, heavy beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. My mind races as I desperately attempt to piece together exactly what had just happened. Had a nightmare woken me up? I couldn’t be sure, for it had disappeared just as quickly as it had come, out of reach within the dark depths of my mind.

“Weird…” I mutter to myself.

With my heart hammering away in my chest loudly, I decide to take a moment to allow myself to calm down. As I suck in a deep breath, I ignore my swirling anxieties, taking in all the sensations of my body to assess how I'm feeling.

I'm unbearably hot, skin burning beneath my fingers with an unusual heat. It has taken me a little while to become used to the tropical weather of the island, but this is something different, almost feverish. I wonder… is it even possible to have come down with something? Are there even viruses out here away from the mainland?

Pocketing the thought, I pull myself from the bed with a groan. The dull ache in my head quickly makes itself known, sending a shock through my sore muscles as I pull myself upright. I reach out and reflexively grip the bedpost as the floor sways beneath me, causing a feeling of nausea to bubble in my throat.

“Oh God,” With a hiss, my nails scratch into the wood in an attempt to secure myself.

Something is very wrong.

A loud click resembling the sound of a VHS being pushed into a player startles me and I spin around. I breathe an unexpected sigh of relief as Monokuma pops up on the TV screen, beginning to chirp away his cheesy morning announcement whilst swirling a fruity drink in one hand.

Turning away in hopes of tuning out the shrill voice that only seems to be making my headache worse, I spy my jeans on the floor and begrudgingly bend over to pick them up. My stomach lurches with vertigo, every movement only making me feel more like crawling back into bed and giving up on this bullshit forever. Frustrated by the thought, I aggressively shove my leg into one of the pant holes, stumbling a little as I throw myself off-balance like an idiot.

Despite my grumbles I pull them up to my waist, quickly zipping my fly and doing up the button. I move up to the buttons on my shirt, doing them up one at a time and cursing to myself when they slip between my sweaty fingers. The faster I make it to breakfast, the faster I can return to my cabin and go back to sleep.

I grab my tie from where it was slung over the canopy of the bed, sliding it under the collar of my shirt and fumbling with my clammy hands until I manage to tie a rather botched Windsor knot. I pull the knot tight to sit snug against my throat before going to loosen it a little.

I falter, however. For some reason I can’t quite place, it feels wrong to loosen it; like it’s somehow more familiar to keep it tight around my neck like a salarayman’s noose. Shrugging off the feeling, I loosen it anyway, opting to pretend the thought never even passed through my head. I’m not like that, I’m better than that. I’m an Ultimate after all, right?

Sitting down in the entryway with my sneakers in hand, I slip each one on without bothering to redo with the laces. When I stand myself back up my head feels impossibly light, consciousness slipping between my fingers and heartbeat thrumming away in my ears. I blink hard a few times, bringing myself back as I lean against the wall for support.

Jeez, I feel like shit.

I reach for the doorknob, twisting and slowly opening the door to a blinding world of white. The sun stings my eyes an unreasonable amount as I make a few slow steps outside. Shutting the door behind myself, I attempt to lock it, only to face the unfortunate reminder that Mioda had broken the lock on my door the day prior.

“Great,” I whisper sarcastically to myself, allowing my arms to drop weakly to my sides in resignation.

Leaving my cabin behind, I wander out onto the boardwalk, trying hard to keep my balance as I stare down at the planks. It feels like the waves beneath the wood are causing them to sway and shake, but I know logically that this isn’t the case. It’s okay, I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. With some breakfast and maybe a coffee, I’ll be fine. Probably...

I glance up, eyeing the hotel in the near distance. A relieved sigh escapes me. Thank God that the cabins are so close to where we all decided to meet for breakfast. Imagine if we had to walk all the way to Jabberwock Park every morning?

I shudder a little at the very thought.

Walking a little faster, I stride towards the bottom of the wooden stairs that lead up to the restaurant. I end up having to grip the bannister tightly to steady myself as I climb because it feels like even more of a challenge than usual. By the time I make it to the top I'm already out of breath again, lungs heaving as I extend a hand towards the sliding door. Just as my hand grips the door handle, a strange noise reaches my ears and freezes me in place. It sounds like… crying? The sound of somebody sobbing, seemingly coming from inside the restaurant.

Is it Saionji? No, no, not high-pitched and screechy enough. Tsumiki? No, it isn’t anywhere near whiny enough to be her. These are raw, guttural cries of grief, the crying of somebody who has lost everything.

It occurs to me that if I had just opened the door, my questions would have been answered. Quietly kicking myself for being an idiot, I open the door and step inside. The scene that confronts me is wildly different to what I ever could have expected. Owari has her face buried in Tsumiki’s chest, staining the nurse’s white apron with her unrelenting flood of tears. Such an unusual sight forces me to do a double take, blinking in disbelief.

"Ah! H-Hinata-san! I-I-Is there any ch-chance you could please give- give me a hand here?" The Ultimate Nurse stutters, clearly distressed and overwhelmed.

I startle, jumping slightly as I snap out of my daze of disbelief. I open my mouth and attempt to stammer out some sort of apology as I reach for Owari but instead find myself freezing dead in my tracks. My racing heart slows a little and I withdraw my hand back to my side.

"My assistance won't make any difference to her condition."

A voice completely devoid of emotion cuts through the room, a low monotone drawl from across my lips. My lips. I reach up and touch my mouth in confusion, as there’s no possibility that voice had come from my mouth completely involuntarily.

No, I must be mistaken. I glance around the room quickly, seeking another person the voice might have come from, but only the three of us stand in the restaurant.

“H-Hinata-san…” Tsumiki whispers with eyes wide in concern.

I snap my head back towards her, locking my eyes with hers as I attempt to silently express my panic. However, Tsumiki only flinches beneath my gaze, fingers digging tightly into Owari’s arm as she clings to the other girl tighter than she had been clinging to her.

“Hey,” A gruff voice breaks the tension, drawing everyone's attention to the stairs. “What the fuck is going on here?”

(Well, Owari doesn't seem to notice. She seems a little caught up in her crying right now.)

Kuzuryuu appears from the entryway with his hands in his pockets and a frown etched into his face. I can’t say I'm surprised he heard the commotion as I can vaguely recall seeing him loitering by the entry to the hotel lobby. He glances towards the two girls and then towards me, as if he's expecting some easy explanation that will make all this make sense.

"At first glance it would seem the stress of Nidai's loss has finally tipped Owari over the edge and into despair, but it's rather something much more sinister."

Again with that weird voice! There’s no denying that the words are coming from my mouth, but I barely feel them pass through my brain before I'm saying them. It’s so incredibly strange, like I've been possessed by some kind of pretentious ghost.

The gangster also appears to be confused by this, judging by the way his face screws up in disgust. “Wait, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks with a tone of revulsion, “Why the fuck are you talking like that? You sound like fucking Komaeda.”

“Huh? Who sounds like me?”

As if on queue, Komaeda emerges from the stairs with Nanami slowly towing along behind him. Her eyes remain glued to the console in her hands as the gamer gives no acknowledgement towards the scene playing out before her, instead wandering blindly over to the dining table before sitting herself down. Well, at least Nanami was acting like usual.

Kuzuryuu edges himself away from Komaeda, whom he seems to believe is standing much too close to him. “Hey bastard, say to Komaeda what you said to me!” He barks out the order.

I clench my hands into sweaty fists, adjusting as I attempt to relax my somewhat stiff posture. With an unamused glare, I stare at the two of them before letting out a huff, "I see no reason to repeat myself."

I shake my head and attempt to snap myself from this strange trance that seems to control every word that leaves my mouth. I naturally find myself walking over to Nanami’s side, paying no further mind to my classmates as I pull out a chair beside her and seat myself in it. Everything inside of me wants to beg for her help, but something forces me to bite my tongue and stay silent. I'm losing control of my own body and it's beginning to make me more and more nauseous with each passing second.

Nanami pauses her game, turning to look up at me with wide eyes. She seems shocked, almost as though she’s privy to the struggle that's currently raging away inside of me. She opens her mouth to say something, but remains silent for a moment before closing it and turning back to her game.

"Huh, it's not like Hinata-kun to act so prickly outside of a class trial!" Komaeda laughs like it's actually funny. “What exactly brought this on? Even if you had a rough time sleeping last night, I wouldn't expect an Ultimate like yourself to act so childishly. Has Nidai’s near-death encounter left you feeling like the rest of us are to blame?”

The reminder causes Owari to sob even louder, “COACH NIDAIIIII!!”

Despite the constant disagreement I seem to be fighting with myself, there’s no objectection when I choose to ignore Komaeda.

“W-Wait!” Calling out, Tsumiki attempts to gently push Owari off herself, persuading the other girl to stand on her own. “I-I think Owari-san is running a fever, she’s burning up like I’ve never seen before!”

“Huh?” Komaeda steps closer to them, seemingly intrigued by Owari’s tears, “Is this why Owari-san is acting so strangely? Surely Nidai-kun’s injury wouldn’t be enough to push her so far over the edge like this…”

“Look!” Tsumiki reaches out, grabbing hold of Komaeda’s wrist. He yelps as Tsumiki pulls him closer and forces his hand onto Owari’s damp forehead.
He retracts his hand the instant Tsumiki lets go, “H-Huh? She’s hotter than a stove! Is it really possible for a human to reach those kinds of temperatures…?”

His concerns are cut off by the sound of someone snickering, specifically a short girl who has just entered the building. Her cheeky smile remains hidden behind her small hand as she walks into the restaurant, Mioda trailing along behind her with a distant look in her eyes.

“Hey morons! Look, Ibuki-nee will believe anything I say today!” Saionji bellowed across the hall, enthusiasm unbridled. “Ibuki-nee! Tsumiki threatened to kill us all, go jump on her and restrain that pig!”

The colourful girl makes a bold salute, “Right away Hiyoko-chan!” Before flinging herself at the nurse who had only just managed to pry Owari off herself. She hits the deck with a scream, her skirt flying up as she falls to the floor with Mioda on top of her.
"My, my, what's going on?"

Sonia and Tanaka enter the scene, coming up the stairs slowly. A light flush is settled on Tanka's cheeks as he looks around sheepishly, fiddling with his bandages. Behind them trails a rather dejected looking Souda, who seems to be having a hard time dragging himself up the steps. Has Sonia's clear rejection of him really stolen his will to live that easily? Has he finally gotten the hint? For some reason I doubt it.

Tsumiki slowly stands herself back up, dusting off her apron as she rises to her feet. She lets out a little sigh of exasperation as Mioda pops up beside her.

"Argh you bozos are taking too long to figure it out!!" A shrill voice suddenly booms in frustration.

She startles, shrieking loudly before falling back to the floor again. Jeez, at this point it's probably better for her to just stay down.

A familiar monochromatic bear pops up out of seemingly nowhere and stands himself up on the middle of the dining tableamongst all the food, like some sort of animal. His screeching voice hurts my head even more; I'm in no state to be dealing with this kind of bullshit.

"Monokuma?" Of course Komaeda is the first to speak up with that annoyingly excited lilt to his voice. “If you’re here, does this mean…”

“H-Hold on!”

A competing high-pitched voice calls out from the other side of the room, appearing just as unexpectedly as the other one had. Well, not that unexpectedly. Bad things do come in pairs, after all.

“Monokuma! You’re up to something again, aren’t you?” Monomi points an accusatory paw to the bear, a scowl on her face. “And where’s Nidai-kun? Hurry up and return him first before you start pulling pranks, you dirty bear!”

“Nidai… Are you talking about the one who tried to resurrect his dead mother with the help of his brother?” Monokuma quizzes, playing coy.

“Huh?! Who the heck are you thinking of?”

“Jeeeeez! Shut up!”

Leaping off the table, Monokuma strikes Monomi with a hard punch, flinging her across the room as she screams. Her little rabbit body flies out the open window and off the balcony, seemingly disappearing to the waves.

“Now then, since the nuisance has been silenced, let’s go back to the topic at hand.” Dusting off his paws, Monkuma clambers back onto the table. “It’s taking you bastards too long to figure it out! All these unnecessary side-characters appearing is muddling and delaying the plot! You would think this was a poorly thought out anime adaptation!”

Kuzuryuu clenches his fist, stepping towards the table, “Huh?! I’m no fuckin’ side character!”

My headache continues to worsen as I loosen my tie a little, glaring up at the two of them in frustration. The room seems to be getting hotter with each passing minute, breathing becoming a chore with how thick the air is.

“So this is related to Owari-san’s high fever then?” Komaeda interjects, his hand pressed to his chin in contemplation.

Monokuma nods, “That’s right, this is the new motive that I’ve given you! This is the Despair Disease!”

There are scattered gasps and exchanged glances of confusion, Saionji specifically looking down to where Mioda-san kneels on the floor. She's still attempting to pull Tsumiki’s arms behind her back so as to restrain her. “...Despair Disease?” she questions.

“You know, there are itty-bitty native bugs living on this island, ones that can’t be seen by the naked eye.” With a solemn voice, Monokuma shares this odd factoid. “This isn’t a retcon, by the way. I just simply never told you about them before!”

...If that was a joke, nobody laughed.

“Anyway, these tiny bugs are capable of spreading and infecting people with an endemic illness known as ‘Despair Disease’.”

Tsumiki glances up, a confused expression on her face as she ignores Mioda’s weird attempts to tie her up. “D-Despair Disease… I’ve never heard of anything like that…!”

“Then shut up and lemme tell you about it!” Tsumiki shrinks at Monokuma’s loud voice. “As the name suggests, Despair Disease is a reaaaally annoying disease, causing a variety of despair-inducing symptoms in concurrence with a high fever. The symptoms tend to vary from person to person.”

He pauses briefly to twirl excitedly.
“For instance, Owari-san is infected with the Crybaby Disease… Hinata-kun has the Apathetic Disease. And Mioda-san’s seems to be the Gullible Disease, I guess.”
Huh?

Me? I’m one of the motives?

My heart pounds in my chest as I stare down at the table, focusing way too intently on the knots in the wood. It made sense, considering I had been feeling like death since I had woken up this morning. I reach up to feel my forehead, but it’s too hard to tell when my whole body seems to be blistering with heat.

I speak without thinking again, “There's no cure then, unless a murder occurs?"

Monokuma nods excitedly, hushed whispers making their way around the room. "That's right my emotionless friend! Unless you take advantage of your 'no strings attached' state and kill somebody, you could be stuck like this forever!"

My eyes become unfocused as the floor beneath me spins. I can feel Komaeda’s eyes creeping over me. His breathy voice as he asks Monokuma for more information. The words don’t quite make it to my ears, sounding muffled and distant, too quiet beneath the sound of my blood pulsing under my skin.

Monokuma has made us into the perfect candidates for a killing.

“Hinata-san… are you okay?” A gentle voice reaches out to me, but even that isn’t enough to make it through the torrential downpour of anxieties that wrack my body.

Just when I feel like it’s going to tear me apart, something inside me lets go, and amongst the sounds of Owari sobbing and Kuzuryuu yelling I find myself falling.

“Damn it Hinata, at least try to make it through the explanation! This is an important exposition for the story, you know?”

My head smacks hard against the table, throbbing pain rushing to my head for a brief second. It is quickly overwhelmed by a feeling floating as my vision darkens, dragging me away from consciousness.

Notes:

Hahah I fucking love writing monokuma

Chapter 2: Noncompliance

Summary:

The title of this chapter is a reference to Occupation Health and Safety. Those with emetophobia be warned.

A strange sensation pulls me from my rest. It is as though I’m being dragged, a heavy weight hauling me by my arms and making them ache with strain.

"...ant…d...t...an…….'s t-...eavy…."

"urel….n…..t-m-t….ike…..you -an…ft another person, Souda-kun."

"I can't! It's not my fault he's so--"

"Ah-! Hinata-kun! Are you awake?"

My eyes flutter open, blinding white burning into my vision. I groan loudly, only just waking up and already feeling overwhelmed by the horrible sensations of my body. My head is pounding, temples throbbing with a dull ache. A thick layer of sweat coats me from head to toe, cementing my shirt against my back as I lay on the hard wooden floor.

…The floor?

Slowly, my eyes begin to focus on a mass of fluffy white hair hovering over my face. Unnerving grey eyes stare down at me, brimming with concern.
This is awfully familiar.

For a brief moment, I consider the idea of closing my eyes again and pretending Komaeda isn’t there, perhaps even wishing him away. However, when I look past him I notice that Souda is standing there too with his hands gripping my wrists as he pulls my arms to the sky. He looks uncomfortable, more so nervous than drained.

“You’re feigning weakness,” I sigh in exasperation, an irritated waver in my voice. “You carry heavy machinery on the daily and yet can’t lift a highschool boy with the help of another? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“W-What?!” Souda lets go of my arms, jumping back in surprise. They fall to my sides with a loud thud, and I bite back a wince of pain. “I wouldn't refuse to help my soul-friend in a time of need!"

My expression must have been doubtful, because he immediately reaches down to grab my wrist again, only for me to slap away his hand. “It’s not an issue. I can walk by myself.”

I set my palms on the floor beside me, using my arms to push myself up into a sitting position. Komaeda’s hand gently touches my back, uttering a quick “Wait-” before I was suddenly overcome with an unbearable pain piercing my skull. A small hiss escapes my lips as I falter, leaning back into his touch as I press my hand to my forehead.

"It's so incredibly brave of you to try to move yourself, Hinata-kun. However, Tsumiki-san said you should try not to in your state.” His breathy voice leans close to my ear, causing me to flinch away from his touch. “Souda-kun and I were going to take you to the hospital, since everybody else seemed rather… hesitant. Oh! Unless, of course, you don't want scum like me touching you."

"I don't. I can take care of myself."

Spitting those words, I take another go at standing up. I push myself from the floor, muscles like jelly as I force them to do their job. My knees tremble under my weight and threatening to buckle as I reach out to lean against the table. How had I even ended up on the floor, anyway?

Slowly but surely I pull myself to stand at full height, squeezing my eyes shut tightly so as to ease the splitting pain in my head. It's unbearable; the kind of pain that makes me want to scream and cry. But I can live with it if it means that I'm not being carried.

Blinking my eyes open again, I groan and shift my weight off the table. Komaeda looks concerned and even a little hurt, reaching out a hand that is hesitantly retracted. Despite his face, his eyes gleam with something darker and more sinister; intrigue.

A calloused hand slaps down on my shoulder, squeezing it with a reassuring grip, "Seriously Hinata, take it easy! You could hurt yourself!"

I do not feel reassured. I swat his hand away again before turning away from the two boys, forcing my weak legs to work as I walk away from them with a sway in my step as I make my way to the stairs.
Gripping the handrail tightly, I shakily make my way down each step, being extremely careful so as to not trip on my way down. Souda, likely presuming I am out of hearing range, mumbles quietly to Komaeda.

"What's wrong with him? Hinata would never turn down an offer to spend time together…"

After what feels like an eternity of just trying to keep myself upright, I step off the last stair. I find myself standing in the hotel’s lobby, the games room.

Sucking in a deep breath, I thread my hand through my hair. “Son of a bitch my head hurts…”

If I could compare the sensation to anything, it’s probably the most similar to someone hammering an ice pick directly into my skull. An insufferable, throbbing pain that only seems to grow more intense with every passing second. My skin is so sticky with sweat, it feels like puberty at its peak all over again. My vision blurs if I lose focus for even a moment. This disease Monkuma has inflicted us with is pretty damn unbearable.

I lean against one of the arcade cabinets, giving myself a moment to catch not only my breath - but my thoughts too. Why did I deny Souda’s help back there? I mean, I have no doubt Komaeda would try to kill me whilst I’m vulnerable like this, right? But Souda poses no threat, so why am I overwhelmed with this desire to deal with everything by myself?

I bring a closed fist to my chin in contemplation. Was I worried about looking like an idiot? Surely I’ve already embarrassed myself enough by fainting for the second time now… Not to mention that wouldn’t make sense. I have apathy disease right? That means like, not caring about things, right?

…It’s not worth staying here to ponder. I might as well make my way to the third island.

Pushing myself off the cabinet, I leave the hotel lobby and step out into the lodging complex. The pool water glistens beneath the sun, reflecting off any surface it can.

“Too bright…” I murmur to myself, squinting harshly.
Walking as quickly as I can without falling on my ass, I head towards the central Island. The sun has more bite to it than usual, prickling at the back of my neck and exacerbating my fever. Despite this, I grit my teeth and deal with it.

A feeling of dread crawls under my skin with each step I take closer to that hospital. By the time I’ve arrived at Jabberwock park, it’s become un-ignorable. A feeling I want nothing more than to share with someone. If I weren’t already so out of breath, I’d start running.
Towards the hospital, or away from it?

I don't know.

The salty air stings my cracked lips. It feels like my legs are going to give out beneath me at any moment, and yet I push on. I push on, no matter how much it hurts. It’s a painfully familiar feeling.
This must be despair, I realise.

I blink a couple of times at the red and white building that comes into view. I never realised just how close the hospital is to the bridge, but it makes sense, I guess. A feeling of relief washes over me as I pick up the pace a little, desperate to get inside.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

As I swallow hard, my hand stills against the door, hesitant to push it open. What, am I just going to run away? Let myself get sicker? That would be stupid.

Pushing open the door of the hospital building, I find myself standing in a small reception room. It’s painted a dull blue-green colour and bears a large white reception desk. Most of the room is taken up by a small assembly of chairs, forming what I presume is a waiting area. Kuzuryuu is lounged in one of these chairs in a position that most certainly looks uncomfortable, but very in character for him.

He startles when I step into the room, leaping out of his chair even though it looks like he had been awaiting my appearance.

“Oi, did you fucking walk here?! Fuck, trust Souda to pussy out like that. But what about Komaeda, where did that son of a bitch go?”

I blink slowly, staring directly at him. An embroidered eye patch covers one of his eyes and yet he only needs one to look as angry as a tantruming toddler. “I left them at the hotel.”

That enraged expression completely wipes off his face, leaving him looking stunned. “You… Why the fuck would you do that? You’re sick as a dog! You passed out at breakfast, asshole!”

“I recall.”

“Then why’d you--?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Kuzuryuu’s face twists in a scowl, before he suddenly sighs and drops the look. “Man, I don’t get this shit. Just go talk to Tsumiki, okay? She’s in the first room doing something about Owari’s fever.”

I give him a quick nod and walk past the desk into the hallway to what I’d guess is the wards. The hallway is an eerie blue colour, bearing an overpowering smell of sterility and chlorhexidine. I pinch my nose; who would have thought such a run down hospital could be so clean?

To my left there are numerous doors, numbered from one to four. The patient rooms of course being where we had found Kuzuryuu just the other day. To my right there are windowed rooms, filled with various medical equipment and… Cardboard Monokuma displays?

I decide not to question it and enter the first room.
Stepping inside, I quietly close the door behind me. Immediately I’m confronted with the sound of Owari sobbing her heart out, making my head throb with an unbearable pain. Her voice is beginning to sound hoarse, cracking with desperation. I can’t even feel sorry for her, not while she’s screaming like that.

Tsumiki notices my presence, whirling around with a wet rag in her hand that she had been previously dabbing against Owari’s forehead. “H-Hinata-san! I-I-I’m glad you’re- you’re here. If y-you’d like, um, y-you can go rest in the second room. I’ll be- um, w-with you in a sec!”

She sounds incredibly stressed out, and yet looks completely in her element.

"There's no need. While I'm content to stay here on the other's wishes, I do not wish for you to treat me." I lock eyes with her, my stern voice somehow not failing on my tongue.

For a moment, her face blanks with shock as she processes the words. Then her bottom lip begins to tremble and silent, fat tears spill from her eyes. "I-I-I'm s-sorry! I-I didn't know that- that I-I was in-in-inadequate in my n-nursing!"

I sigh in exasperation, finding myself rapidly becoming bored by her pathetic act. I don't wish to listen to her cry any further, nor had I any argument to make, so I simply push the door open and leave her alone to treat Owari.

As usual, my peace is short lived.

Stepping back out into the hallway, I find myself overcome by a sudden rush of vertigo and nausea. My balance fails and I stagger towards the wall, leaning against it with one arm as I stare down at the floor and attempt to still the spinning room.

Jeez, I feel like crap.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, clenching my jaw as I attempt to muscle through the sensation. The sound of light footsteps and Owari's distant sobbing is distracting. Slowly the footsteps grow louder, closer, accompanied by the soft sound of a metal chain clinking against itself.

Ah, it could only be one person.

"Hinata-kun! Kuzuryuu-kun told me you made it here safely." He says cheerily, as though it’s his intention to get on my nerves. "Ah, you look awfully unw--"

"I'm going to throw up."

"I know it's unfortunate that you ran into me again, Hinata-kun, but coming from you, that feels a little harsh…" Komaeda crosses his arms, looking almost a little hurt.

"No, Komae--!" I barely get the first part of his name out before I gag on it, forced to slap a hand over my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut tighter to force back the bile rising in my throat.

Komaeda's eyes widen in realisation, following closely with a soft "Oh…"

Before I can object, he grabs ahold of my wrist, bony fingers digging into my skin. I refuse to take my hand away from my mouth as he drags me along by the arm, pushing open the door to the second patient's room before pulling me inside. Inside the room is a little brighter than the dingy hallways of the hospital. I don't take too much notice however, as Komaeda is quickly ushering me to another door, presumably the ensuite bathroom.

Komaeda lets me pass as I practically dash inside, hands growing clammy and breath thick in my lungs. As soon as I spy the toilet, I remove my hand from my mouth to lean against the cistern, dropping to my knees and heaving into the bowl.

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes as I vomit and for a moment I'm a little glad I passed out before breakfast. My throat burns, each motion causing my body to shudder and my head to scream with agony. The sensation is just as Monokuma had described; utterly despairing.

After what feels like hours, even though it is more likely a few minutes, my stomach finally stops churning and begins to calm down. I wipe my mouth with a groan, body falling weak the moment the adrenaline wears off. Sinking even further to the floor, I lie my face down against the cool tiles.

"That's a little unsanitary, don't you think…?" A breathy voice reaches my ears, coming from somebody standing in the doorway.

"I don't care…" Murmuring against the tiles, I hold tight in hopes for the world to stop spinning. It does not.

There's a soft, patronising sigh and the sound of footsteps approaching. Komaeda carefully takes my hand into his and wraps an arm around my waist.

I groan in annoyance as he pulls me off the floor. "Come on Hinata-kun, sit up."

Propping my back up against the wall, Komaeda brings his cold hand to my forehead. It feels good against my burning skin and I quietly exhale in relief. Noticing this, he giggles a little.

"You're very hot." He smiles before turning his head away, as though a little embarrassed. "Worryingly so. I-I think I'll go get Tsumiki-san."

His hand pulls away from my forehead, I grab his wrist and bring it back before he can leave. "No, wait."

Komaeda blinks. "Huh? You don't want me to?"

"I… I don't want to be treated."

His expression changes from confusion to a rather pensive look, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brows. "Why wouldn’t you want to be treated, Hinata-kun?"

I sigh, pressing Komaeda's hand harder against my burning skin. It provides little relief. "I want to see what happens. I didn't expect this turn of events."

"Hm, is that really wise?" A dry laugh escapes Komaeda's lips, wheezy and quiet as though it was meant to be a secret. "I don't think this hospital would have the resources if you slipped into a critical condition. Besides, an Ultimate such as yourself shouldn't be forced to go through something like this."

"Your opinion on the matter isn't important, Komaeda. All I'm telling you is to not get the nurse." I state firmly, attempting to keep some sense of confidence despite my humiliating position. "Knowing the people here; it won't be long before a murder occurs and I'm free of this ailment."

Tilting his head to the side, Komaeda shoots me a rather intrigued look. "'The people here'? Do you not trust our classmates, Hinata-kun?"

With a shrug, I decide it's probably ridiculous to continue having this conversation on the floor. I push myself up into a sitting position, biting my tongue so as to force the room to stop spinning dangerously around me. Komaeda's face doubles briefly, dancing in my vision until I blink it back into focus.

"How could I? You're all psychotic."

The statement brings a horrified look of shock and hurt to Komaeda's face. Slowly, it begins to warp into a wide smile and he seems somewhat tickled, giggling breathlessly to himself. "I can't say I'm surprised you'd say that about me, but about the others too? And even to my face… has your new apathetic outlook made you unbothered by hurting people's feelings?"

"You can sit here and philosophise about Despair Disease and its symptoms all you like. I however," I sigh loudly, finding myself somewhat bothered by his musings. "I'm going to go get a drink to help this God-forsaken migraine."

Pulling myself up from my sitting position, I rise to my feet. My legs feel unsteady, weak beneath my body weight, but I reassure myself that a couple of deep breaths and I should be able to manage.

That is until I straighten myself up and a shocking pain pulses through my skull, shaking me to my core.

"Ghuh-!"

With a gasp, my legs give way from under me. Komaeda reaches out, wrapping his arms tightly around my torso, catching me before I go crumbling to the floor. He pushes me hard into the wall, propping me up by pinning my body in place as I lean into his shoulder.

The feeling of his breath on my neck tickles as he laughs dryly. I feel his skinny fingers grip tightly at the fabric of my shirt, caressing my back. "Ah, you probably shouldn't try to do that…"

"No shit. Let me go." I hiss, tightly gripping his shoulder as I try to steady myself.

His dry laugh turns into a sick little cackle, and despite his amusement, he makes no move to remove his hold. "You tell me to let go of you whilst using my body to hold yourself up? You're awfully strange Hinata-kun. I know you’re smart, so why don’t you try to stand on your own?"

Komaeda backs off, allowing me to stand on my own once again. Before I can get away, he removes one of his arms from my waist and places his hand over my own. "Here, put your arm around my shoulder. It would be best to just get you to your bed."

With a loud sigh of defeat I resign to looping my arm around his shoulder. He nods in acknowledgement before beginning to slowly walk us forward. The position is so weird and awkward, I find myself leaning most of my body weight onto him.

I can't help but worry; Komaeda never did have the most… solid frame. The likelihood of him snapping like a twig and hurting both of us seems rather high.

"Komaeda-- I really can do this by myself, you know."

"I know." Komaeda hums cheerily. "Thank you for allowing me to help you, even if garbage such as myself isn't worthy of touching you."

…I don't bother to entertain him with a response to that. Instead, I focus on moving myself forward with the help of his hold.

"You're doing an amazing job, Hinata-kun." He breathes in a hushed tone. The sound of his voice so close to my ear sends a shiver down my spine.

My knees bump up against something hard and I blink my eyes back into focus. I look up, realising that I finally managed to drag my pathetic body from the bathroom to the hospital bed. Komaeda also seems a little relieved, judging by the sweat beading on his forehead.

He slips his hand out from my waist, still holding my shoulder as he helps me lower myself onto the mattress. Soft pants of exhaustion leave my lips as I relax and lie myself down against the bed.

"God, I'm so hot…" I murmur to myself.

Komaeda glances down at me with a rather pitiful look on his face. He reaches over, pressing a bony hand to my cheek. His touch is consistently cool and I find myself leaning into it with a sigh. My eyes flutter closed and I feel his fingers press into the knot of my tie, pulling it undone from my neck. It's relieving, freeing.

"You should probably change into a hospital gown." In a low voice, Komaeda speaks. "Even if it's a pain, it will be cooler than wearing jeans."

Why is he being so quiet? Is he trying to be mindful of my migraine? How… considerate of him...

"I… you're right." Sighing in submission, I work my fingers to undo the top button of my shirt.

"Oh? You're going to change right now?" I can't help but notice how Komaeda's eyes lid as he locks his gaze on my chest. "My, you're a bit of an exhibitionist, aren't you Hinata-kun?"

Pausing the movements of my hands, I stare up at him with a rather dead expression. "What?"

Komaeda's smile strains, and he laughs awkwardly. "N-Never mind. I'll go get you a change of clothes, then."
"Do whatever you want."

He nods, evidently struggling to tear his gaze away from my chest as I continue to undo the buttons of my shirt. He finally seems to break away as I press my fingers into my tie, pulling it loose from my neck and allowing it to drop to the floor.

He leaves the room quickly, allowing the door to softly close behind himself.

Weirdo.

My shirt quickly follows, discarded on the floor without a care. I kick off my shoes, not bothering with the laces before wrenching them off along with my socks. My hands then move to my belt, undoing the clasp and pulling it loose before I unzip my jeans.

With a soft groan I lift my hips from the bed, carefully wiggling myself out of my jeans. They were unusually tight on my body, sticking against my skin with the sweat of the fever.

Another piece of clothing is added to the messy pile on the floor and I allow myself to lie back on the bed with a sigh of relief. It probably isn't wise to lie down yet, but the aching feeling in my legs is finally beginning to catch up to me and the spinning of my head still refuses to relent. Despite the rock-hardness of the shitty hospital mattress, the relief it gives by taking the weight off my sore feet is unparalleled.

A pale hand gently pushes the door open again, flooding the room with dull light. A bundle of ivory hair peeks through the gap, watching as I bury my face in the pillow so as to hide from the brightness.

Upon spying the pile of clothes, Komaeda slowly steps into the room, a light blue gown folded neatly in his hand. "Hinata-kun… are you doing okay?"

"No." I mumble into the pillow.

"I'm sorry about that." Komaeda's gentle voice whispers, accompanied by a soft groan of springs as he sits himself on the edge of the bed. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Water."

"Of course!" The bed creaks again as he stands back up. "Ah, I'll leave your gown here on the bed so you can change. Be careful now, Hinata-kun."

"Mhm…"

It takes a minute for me to muster the strength to push myself up off the mattress. Glancing around the room a couple of times, I confirm Komaeda's absence before slipping my legs over the end of the bed, slowly rising to my unsteady feet.

I pick up the gown from the edge of the bed. It’s incredibly lightweight, made of thin cotton, and yet the linen is rather soft.

Slipping my arms into the sleeves, I pull the left side across my body before tying a loose knot at the waist. The gown has a strangely modern design, but I guess that makes sense if this place was once a resort.

I sit myself down on the edge of the mattress, giving myself a chance to fully take in the hospital room. The blinds are drawn, leaving the room to only be dimly lit by the tropical sun breaking through.

Next to the bed is an IV rack and a bucket. Who knows what the bucket is for… On the other side of the room is a grey cabinet with a potted plant, a tall table, and a privacy screen. There's even a couple of pictures on the wall of something beyond the recognition of my bleary eyes.

The room feels strangely empty. Lonely, even.
Before I can entertain that thought further, Komaeda returns, carrying a tray with both hands. The tray holds a rather large jug of water and a couple of plastic cups, all a dull grey colour and perfectly unremarkable in appearance. He sets the tray down on top of the cabinet, right next to the potted plant, and begins to pour a cup of water.

Keeping his gaze focused on what he's doing, Komaeda begins to speak. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Well, I'm less hot…" I mumble.

"That's good!" Turning around, he thrust the cup of water in my direction with such a force it almost sloshed over the side. "I'm sure if we remain hopeful, you'll be better in no time."

I quickly wipe my sweaty hands off on my gown before taking the cup from him. He gives me a soft smile as I raise it to my lips, the kind of creepy expression that makes me wonder if he's serving me something poisoned.

It's just water, Hajime.

That thought is quickly washed away by the icy feeling soothing my throat, cooling the burning sensation and filling me with such a relief. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I tip the cup higher, ravenously gulping down every drop of water in the damn thing.

"Ah, you probably shouldn't drink too fast…" Komaeda murmurs, shifting his eyes. "You wouldn't want to make yourself sick again, would you?"

I finish the cup, sighing softly in relief as a drop escapes my lip. "Wouldn't that be exciting, though? To be so desperately seeking a release from pain only to make it worse with your own belligerence? Perhaps it's a little too predictable…"

"Belligerence? Haha, you're starting to sound a bit like me," Chuckling to himself, Komaeda reaches out towards my face. His fingers barely graze over my skin, a touch reminiscent of a snowflake landing on my cheek, before he wipes away the stray drop of water from the corner of my mouth. "How scary."

Flinching back from his touch, I scoot myself back further on the bed before leaning back against the mattress. The second my head hit the pillow, it felt as though a weight had been lifted, “It would be most unfortunate to have a mindset as boring as yours.”

The smile on Komaeda’s face dissipates as he draws his hand back to himself in an almost uncertain way, lingering for just a moment before dropping by his side, “I think it would be best for me to go, I still have to speak things over with Kuzuryuu-kun, after all. Please call for Tsumiki-san if you need anything.”

“Mhmm,” With my face squished into the pillow, I try my best to express a reply.

Komaeda mutters something to himself that is just out of ear-shot before I hear the click of the door behind him. I let out a sigh as fatigue takes hold of me, putting me under quickly and peacefully for what is probably the first time since I arrived on this damn island.

Notes:

I haven't read this in yonks and I'm not gonna lie... I know I wrote it but damn. Hot.

Chapter 3: Crimson

Summary:

Identity crises ensues! If you don't like needles, this chapter has a very detailed description of Hinata having an IV put in.

When I realise where I am, a horrible sensation grips at my chest. Fingers wrapping around my heart and squeezing, threatening to cause it to burst, leave me bleeding from every pore and unable to speak words without choking on my own blood.

The feeling of a dread that runs deep within our human nature. When we know we're at the end of the line, staring up at the snout of the predator that plans to eat us alive.

I'm in a classroom. The same place I've spent the last decade of my life. And yet, such a fear resonates deeply within me even now. The eyes of monsters crawling over my skin, whispering scornful things to one another.

"I feel bad for his parents. It's their money, after all. How selfish."

"So he's just a normal guy. Just like everyone else. He doesn't even have a talent."

"Seems like you can buy yourself any delusion these days; must be nice."

I dig my fingers harder into the fabric of my pants. Please, just leave me alone. I just want to…

A pair of pale hands slam down onto my desk, tearing me from my thoughts and causing me to jump. I cower further into myself, eyes burning as a stare down at those pale hands. There's an IV cannular poking from one of them, bruises dotted across the backs of both hands. The nails are chewed blunt and the knuckles stick out in a sickly way.

"You're insignificant."

A monotone voice drones, feeling as though it's near millimetres from my ear. Inky black strands of hair fall over the desk, shaking as somebody leans in closer over my head.

"A parasite to society."

I bite my lip harshly, hands fisting my pants even tighter. Why can't they just leave me alone? I didn't ask for this, I don't want this. I just want to be proud of myself…

I want to… stand tall.

Mustering the courage, I suck in a deep breath. I force myself to look up at this person, ready to tell them that they're wrong, that I'm more than what they say they am.

And somehow, I find myself looking up the snout of a predator.

A sickly looking man is hunched over my desk, clad in a hospital gown. His face is mere millimetres from my own, sunken crimson eyes piercing my soul. His skin is pale, almost translucent; and his expression looks tired, eyes lined with dark bags. The most horrifying thing was how young he looked, perhaps around my age.

His gaze remains locked on my own, refusing to falter or shift. I can feel him finally squeezing my heart past it's limit, causing it to burst in his hand, pure horror oozing through my guts.

"How boring."

I shut my eyes, almost begging for the world to disappear with my vision. My sadness twists, morphing into a burning hot anger, a seething hatred for the world that had put me here. I didn't ask to be born like this, and yet here I was suffering for it. It wasn't me who made the foolish mistake of biting off more than he could chew, and yet I was stuck with this existence.

I open my eyes, the world reappearing before me again; changed. Hazel eyes stare up at me, gleaming with desperation, failure, disappointment.

"You've never deserved to be an Ultimate."

This time it was my own voice leaving my mouth. I was the one staring down at the cowardly figure of Hinata Hajime.

"Your blind devotion to talent is worthless; it's pathetic that you continue to try to be something you cannot."

Hajime twitches, shaking as he turns his gaze down to the desk. It's a sad sight, watching him clench his teeth tightly as he attempts to bite back the tears burning his waterline. It fails, as usual, and they spill down over his cheeks.

I extend a hand towards his face, securing his chin firmly in my hold before roughly tilting it up towards myself. He looks distraught, broken, hopeless.

"This is why you're dying, and I'm here."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

A loud scream tears through my throat as I attempt to wrench myself from the boy's grip. My blankets are violently thrown from my bed, falling to the floor in a messy heap.

I blink a few times, eyes frantically darting around the room. Wh-Where did the classroom go? Where did that boy go? Where am I? Who am I?

I look down to my hands. There's small red crescents burned into my skin from my nails. They're shaking, palms shining with sticky sweat. It's unpleasant, gross.

Breaths come quick and uneven, burning my lungs and making my chest ache with exhaustion. My head is swirling with conflicting emotions, as though I'm having an endless argument with myself that I can't win. This doesn't make sense at all, I'm going insane. I'm going fucking insane!

A dry laugh escapes me, wracking my already painful chest. “Hah, hahaha…”

I bring my hands into my lap and ball my hands into fists, before letting out a horrifying scream. I can feel my heart pounding away, my painful emotions finally being released in a fit of despair.

I’m so scared. I'm going to die. I’m going to die and disappear forever.

No, that’s wrong. I've already disappeared. There is no more Hinata Hajime.

I’ve lost him again.

“P-Please t-t-take deep breaths, Hinata-san!”

Huh? Is somebody speaking?

I glance to my side, finding myself face to face with a grief-stricken Tsumiki. She’s grabbing at my arm, squeezing desperately in an attempt to pull my attention. It’s successful, I suppose, yet she is cutting off my circulation.

Reality sets in all at once. The first thing that becomes apparent is the painful stabbing in my hands; my nails digging into the flesh of my palms harshly enough to draw blood. A sense of exhaustion seeps into my muscles, causing them to burn with overexertion, a strangely unfamiliar sensation. I can feel a thin layer of sweat clinging to my skin, making it cool against the tropical humidity; causing me to shiver despite the warmth.

My cheeks are stiff with dried tear tracks, hair sticking to my forehead in an uncomfortable way. It's overwhelming, if I weren't already crying, I may have begun to. The sound of my sobbing is distant, yet bothersome. In an attempt to silence myself, I press my lips tightly together.

An expression of relief washes over the nurse’s face. “T-That's good, you’re doing great.”

I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes, attempting to rid myself of any thoughts. I was going to forget that nightmare, I was going to think about something else, focus on feeling better.

I… couldn’t bring myself to.

That boy had felt so familiar. A face I couldn't quite picture, couldn't place a name to. It was as though he was from a time I didn't know, one that no matter how hard I tried to remember, I could fathom his existence yet I could not… feel it. Alienating.

Those eyes were merciless, burning with passion. He hated me. Why?

I bundle the thin linen of my gown into my fists, squeezing tightly. It‘s hardly enough to hold onto and provides little comfort. Yet somehow it grounds me and my breathing gradually slows.

The adrenaline that had been coursing through my body is beginning to wear away, leaving me empty and worn. For a moment, I could have forgotten I was even sick. But there’s no denying the heavy feeling of tiredness that is now settling into my bones.

"Y-You're a natural, Hinata-san!" The nurse chirps, "Just keep breathing like that, I-I'll grab your blankets."

I nod my head and lean back against the bed, exhaling another deep breath. Tsumiki pops back up with the bedding, before tossing it messily over my body. Numerous apologies leave her mouth as she straightens the comforter, attempting to make the bed again.

"What…?" As I mumble my voice trembles on my lips.

"I-Is something wrong, Hinata-san?" Clearing my throat, I attempt to speak again. "What… is going on? Was that a symptom of the Despair Disease?"

She pats the comforter a few times to straighten out a crease, before wandering over to the table. Her brow is furrowed, lips pursed as she picks up the water jug Komaeda left there earlier. A drop of condensation rolls down the jug as she tilts it forward, pouring filling a plastic cup with cool water.

"I'm- I'm not sure."

I blink a few times, forcing myself to stop watching what she's doing. "How could you be unsure? You are a nurse, are you not?”

"I-I'm sorry!" She flusters, biting her lip as she slams the jug down into the table. "W-Well… y-y-you had a p-panic attack," as she stammers, the cup shakes in her hands. "I-It may well have been… I-I-I j-just can't be c-certain…"

Avoiding my gaze, she thrusts the cup of water towards me. I reach out, taking it from her hand with trembling fingers. The weight of it is heavier than I expect, or perhaps I have grown weaker than anticipated, as the cup slips through my fingers and goes clattering to the floor. The floor shines with the spilled water as my mouth hangs open, eyes fixated on the spilled cup.

"Uwaah!! I'm sorry I'm so so sorr-!!"

"No I…" I cut her off before she can whimper out an annoying amount of apologies. "I did not… I did not foresee that, it is my fault."

Tsumiki is near sobbing as she grabs a towel from the nearby cupboard. Towel in hand, she collapses to her knees to clean up the mess, cursing herself and mumbling all the while. It almost hurts to watch, unable to swoop in and quickly tidy it up before she makes an even bigger mess.

My eyes drift down to my hands, marked and red from where I had hurt myself earlier. My fingers shake ever so slightly, pale beneath the fluorescent light from above my bed. Such an unnatural shade can only be caused by poor lighting. I glance up at it, wincing as the bright light burns my vision and causes my aching head to throb.

Tearing my eyes away from it, I take a moment to look around the room, realising it has grown dark since I fell asleep. The only other light in the room creeps in from under the door and glows behind the curtains, reminding me of those unbearably clear nights that made it near impossible to sleep.

I lie back down on the bed with a huff, "My head hurts."

"Oh!" Tsumiki pops her head back up from the floor. "W-Would you like something for it? I-I-I know you said earlier that you did- didn't want me treating you, b-but…"

"Yes, I did. I'm having a rather difficult time deciding which would be least boring. To treat the illness and take away the motivation for murder would be rather anticlimactic. However, being in a drugged state that renders myself near useless and completely at the mercy of the despairs I look down upon; that would be different, unusual, perhaps even exciting." Rolling my head back against the pillow, I let out a loud sigh. "Observing how the symptoms manifest under such circumstances has been interesting, but it is likely I will tire of it in time. Like this headache, for instance: The pain does not change, a recurring ache behind the eyes. It bores me."

"Huh? Wh-What do you mean by 'th-the despairs'?" Eyes brimming with inquiry, she leans closer, towel clasped tightly in her hands. "A-Are you referring to M-Mioda-san and Owari-san?"

"In part, yes."

She perks right up, the corners of her mouth turning up in a grin. "Oh! Please don't worry about them, they're actually quite useless at the moment."

That smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Here, I'm going to start you on fluids and get you something for the pain, okay? Just sit tight."

I nod, and the nurse cheerfully wanders out of the room as though having had a complete mood turnaround. The sound of her footsteps follow her down the hall, and when I am certain she is far enough away, I kick back the covers, pulling myself out of bed.

My feet splash against the water on the floor, making me wince from the cold. Had she even looked as she was cleaning? I groan, reaching out to grab the wall as I cross the dark room. It's cold in the hospital, which defies all other logic on the island. Hospitals are meant to be kept above 18°C, at night the tropical weather rarely allows for it to dip below 15°C. It’s almost as though someone is constantly blasting the AC, which considering Monokuma's cruelty, is always a possibility.

I shiver as my gown slips from my shoulder, quickly pulling it back up. There's a chill on my neck that I am unfamiliar with. It's uncomfortable.

My hand finds the knob of the bathroom door, and I carefully slip inside. The door shuts with a click, and my hands fumble around for a light switch in the dizziness and darkness.

Clink

The room is flooded with a blinding light, forcing me to shield my eyes as I grimace. The bathroom is incredibly simplistic, consisting of only a toilet, sink, and small window. I startle as something else catches my eye, a portrait mirror positioned above the sink. Sunken hazel eyes stare back at me and suddenly whatever else I came here to do loses all importance.

Leaning my hands onto the sink, I push myself up close to the mirror, examining every discrepancy in my own reflection. There are dark circles under my eyes, dark enough that one could almost assume I had been punched. My forehead gleams with a cold sweat from fever. I bare my teeth and stick out my tongue, it seems as though I haven't brushed my teeth in days. My skin is sickly, almost translucent, and a dark flush colours my cheeks. My teeth worry at my bottom lip as I bring my hand to the back of my neck, slowly rubbing the back of my hair. My suspicions have been confirmed, I'm positive I understand what's going on now.

For once in my life, I am not sure what to expect. Typically I can see the path laid before me with utmost clarity and anytime that path strays I find myself excited by the prospect of uncertainty. She always did have a way of dragging me off the beaten path, showing me the unpredictability of despair. Perhaps even my life is in danger?

Somehow, the thought brings a smile to my face.

My hand stills as I hear footsteps coming back down the hall. In a second I switch the light off and slink out of the bathroom, making an almost mad dash back to the bed before Tsumiki can catch me. Just as I manage to pull the sheets back over myself, she steps into the room, a plastic kidney dish in one hand and a small plastic cup in the other. She sets them down on the table. My eyes dart to the kidney dish; alcohol wipes, a pair of latex gloves, a tourniquet, a needle, a line, a syringe filled with clear liquid, and a bag of saline.

"D-Do you have any problems with n-needles, Hinata-san?" she stutters out, wandering over to the nearby sink to wash her hands.

I'm unsure whether or not I ever was, "No."

"That's good!" her chipy tone reminds me just how clumsy the nurse is. It's a miracle she even managed to bring such tools to this room.

Even so, she's a competent nurse.

She picks up the latex gloves, pulling them on one at a time with a rubbery snap. Leaning in close, she begins to prod at my inner elbow, caressing the skin as she attempts to find a suitable vein.

“Hm, t-there’s a vein there, but it’s weak since you’re so dehydrated. Could I get you to prop your arm up on a pillow?”

Giving her a nod, I reach for one of the pillows behind me. She quickly grabs a towel, which she places on top of the pillow before I rest my arm onto it.

“P-Perfect!” she elates with a goofy smile. “Now close and open your fist a couple of times,” her fingers graze my skin, “Get the blood moving again.”

I follow her directions. It seems as though the motions help, as next thing I know Tsumiki is ripping open the alcohol wipe and using it to wipe down the crook of my elbow. The cool liquid dries almost immediately, before she even has time to ready the needle.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “T-This is going to hurt a bit.”

“Mhmm,” with a hum, I brace myself for the feeling.

There’s a sharp scratch, and Tsumiki smiles. She removes the needle, leaving only the cannula sticking out of my arm. The nurse reaches for the syringe of clear liquid, before flushing the vein with saline. A chilly sensation rushes through my arm, unbearably foreign. “That’s cold,” I mumble.

“Ah!” a loud yelp pierces my ears. “I-I’m sorry…” she apologises, ceasing the flush.

The syringe is pulled away, tossed into the kidney dish. She then pulls a roll of medical tape from the pocket of her apron, ripping off a piece before using it to tape down the cannula. Once secure, she rises to her feet, picking up the bag of saline as she reaches up to hang it from the IV pole. The line is then pushed into the saline bag, and she takes a moment to allow it to drip through and push the air out of the line before screwing it attached to the device poking out of my hand.

The process of watching her work would be fascinating to the average person. How many complicated steps were involved in something so mundane for a nurse like herself, a task she could perform with her eyes closed. However, that mundanity was not exclusively experienced by her; as all I could feel was boredom watching her punch some numbers into the infusing machine attached to the IV pole.

So very boring.

A sharp pang of pain suddenly ripples through my brain. I suck air sharply through my teeth as I wince, bringing my hand to my forehead as though it will do anything to help.

"Oh, that's right!" Tsumiki turns to me with big eyes as she pries off her gloves. "S-Sorry, I almost f-forgot."

She picks up the small plastic cup she brought in earlier, extending it over to me. I take it carefully, observing it's contents. Inside there are two capsules, orange and white in colour.

"Painkillers?"

"Mhmm," Tsumiki nods, "These ones are strong but they're likely to make you drowsy," she begins to pour another cup of water as she speaks. "N-Not that I see that being an issue for you."

She places the cup of water onto the bedside table this time. I tip the pills into my mouth before picking up the water, washing them down with a cool drink.

"S-So," the nurse begins to put any remaining plastic waste back into the kidney dish. "Do you need anything else?"

I shake my head, placing the cup of water back down onto the table. Tsumiki flashes me a strained smile as she lifts the pillow out from beneath my arm, helping me get it back behind myself as I slide down under the sheets. Laying down, exhaustion hits me with the force of rushing water, weighing my body down and clouding my thoughts. Either the Painkillers were kicking in incredibly quickly or the adrenaline from the panic attack was finally wearing off, the latter more likely the case.

Picking up the kidney dish, Tsumiki turns off the light above my bed. She gestures towards a button to my right, "If you need to c-c-call me at all, p-press this okay?"

I mumble an understanding and she heads towards the door, her flats quietly tapping against the floor as she goes.

"Sleep well, Kamukura-kun."

The door clicks shut behind her.

Chapter 4: Crush

Ding dong, bing bong

“Ahem… Hope’s Peak Academy’s School Trip Executive Committee has an announcement to make…”

The monitor rang with a familiar sound, followed by Monokuma’s grating voice. That same despairing sound had brought Komaeda from his sleep every morning since arriving on the island, the same pre-recorded drivel to wear down everybody’s patience.

He rolls over, letting out a loud sigh before sitting himself up in defeat. As much as anybody would rather stay in bed all day and hide from the reality of the situation, they can’t. Besides, there are things to look forward to!

Yes, yesterday had been rather disappointing; the Ultimates had fought like children, panicking and arguing as they tried to throw one another under the bus. However, Souda and Kuzuryuu's hope had shined through miraculously, Souda putting together an effective way to communicate with such scarce resources whilst Kuzuryuu offered his strength in assisting the infected.

Paying no mind to Monokuma’s rambling, he swings his legs out the side of the bed. Komaeda stretches his arms over his head with a soft groan, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead.

Despite everyone's best efforts, he still has to return to the hospital to assist Tsumiki. She had her hands full yesterday with treating both the girls and Hinata, who has been incredibly uncooperative; it’s unlikely she ever got the chance to rest. Perhaps she has even finally convinced him to accept treatment?

Komaeda wanders into the bathroom, groggily reaching for his toothbrush. He wets it under the tap, squeezing some toothpaste on before beginning to brush his teeth. Lost in thought, his mind continues to ponder the Despair Disease and the significance of it being a motive, since it was pretty obvious the motive wasn't actually that horrible little performance Monokuma and Monomi put on at the cinema.

It’s been apparent to him since the beginning that the disease causing different symptoms within different people means that it’s reflecting something within their personalities.

In both Owari and Mioda for example, it seems as though their personalities have been completely reversed. Mioda; normally a free spirit who refused to take anything seriously, was now taking orders and believing every word told to her. And Owari, whose bravery is normally so bold it can almost be interpreted as arrogance, has become a sobbing coward who’s afraid of her own shadow. It was a stark contrast to her actions the previous night, attempting to go head to head with Monokuma.

Hinata, however, is a bit more complicated. Bearing apathetic disease, he reacted with very little emotion towards the people around him and the news that he had fallen ill, which doesn't seem to make sense if the opposite of apathy is bearing enthusiasm towards things.

Hinata is, if nothing else, incredibly unenthusiastic.
Komaeda pauses his motions for a second, biting down on the brush as he brings a hand to his chin in contemplation. "No, enfoozhiashm doeshn't make shenshe," he mumbles to himself.

Apathy’s antonym isn't necessarily enthusiasm; it can also be passion or concern. If one thinks of it that way, things start to make a lot more sense. After all, Hinata can always be seen stressing out over something. He tries so very hard to hide it, but the way he presses his hand to his lips whenever deep in thought truly gives it away. Not to mention the fact his confident façade usually comes crashing down during a rebuttal, revealing an incredibly nervous personality beneath.
Spitting into the sink, Komaeda begins to rinse his brush. “Ah, I really do think about Hinata-kun too much, huh?” he mutters to himself.

His mind wanders to the previous day; the way Hinata had started to change in front of him, how he’d begun undoing the buttons on his shirt with such fervor. Unable to pull his eyes away, Komaeda had instead let them linger, taking in the way Hinata’s tanned skin glistened with sweat. It‘s getting harder and harder to pretend that the fascination he has with Hinata is something innocent, that the burning in his cheeks wasn’t a fever from inevitably catching the disease, that the fact Hinata looked so much slimmer with his shirt on had to be a delusion.

“I’m forgetting my place,” the boy laughs breathlessly.

He tosses his toothbrush into the holder and leaves the bathroom. His jeans are awaiting him on the bed, neatly folded. He picks them up by the waist, allowing them to unfold with gravity. Stepping into them, he pulls them up to his hips before doing up the belt.
Once mostly dressed, he sits himself down on the bed with a sigh. He drags his shoes out from underneath, slipping his feet into them before doing up the zips.
Rising up from the bed, Komaeda makes one final trip to the bathroom. With his hands leant onto the sink, he stares deeply into his own reflection in the mirror. The eyes staring back at him are dull, lifeless, empty. His skin is pale, a pasty shade of alabaster amongst the tropics. Thin and wispy hair tangles around his face; it’s much too delicate to even consider brushing. And that’s all without mentioning his body, a pathetically skinny frame with no strength in it. A strong gust of wind would probably be enough to blow him off his own feet.

Deeming his appearance a lost cause, he shoots his reflection a bitter smile before turning to leave his cottage, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

Slinging it around his shoulders, he steps out onto the boardwalk. Water swishes beneath the planks, making him feel as if he was floating above the water. Not allowing himself to get too disoriented by it, Komaeda begins walking. He makes his way out of the hotel area and over the bridge towards Jabberwock park, then across the bridge to the third island.

There’s a cool breeze coming off the water that leaves a salty taste on his lips. The sun bears down on him, warm but never to an intolerable level. In fact, he’s never felt too hot at any point during his stay on the island, something that strikes him as rather peculiar. Even since childhood he has been rather sensitive to the heat. Is it possible for things to have changed during the years that he has forgotten?

Suppressing the thought, Komaeda pushes open the door to the hospital, an act that draws the attention of the people awaiting him inside. Tsumiki and Kuzuryuu stand in the reception area. Seems as though he’s interrupted their conversation.

“You’re late,” the gangster hisses. “I seriously didn’t think you were gonna fuckin’ show up today.”

A little embarrassed, Komaeda gives them a big smile, waving his hand. “I’m so very sorry,” he adds, “I never intended to waste your precious time waiting for my worthless self."

“The fuck?! What’s with that attitude?” Kuzuryuu glares daggers at Komaeda, jumping down from the counter he had been sitting on. “Are you fuckin’ with me?”

“Huh? No, not at all. Did I sound like a liar? That wasn’t at all my intention!”

Kuzuryuu huffs, “I could be damn mistaken sometimes.” He unclenches his fists, turning away from Komaeda with a click of his tongue. "Whatever. Souda should be calling soon to give us an update."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Komaeda turns his gaze towards Tsumiki, who has been silently standing off to the side. Her hands are tightly clasped together, toes pointed inwards as her teeth worry at her bottom lip.

“Good morning Tsumiki-san,” he chirps.

She startles slightly, staring at him with big eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. "Ah! G-Good morning, K-Komaeda-san!"

“How is everybody doing?”

"N-not great,” she trails off, getting a little quieter. “E-Everybody is in a s-stable condition… But Mioda-san and Hinata-san have been a little… d-difficult.”

Komaeda perks up a little at the news.

“Difficult?”

"Mioda-san has a t-tendency to get up and walk around, I-I guess.” Tsumiki shuffles her feet uncomfortably. “H-Hinata-san has just been… stubborn."

A soft chuckle slips from Komaeda’s lips, "Mioda-san has always been like that though, she's difficult to keep in one place! Truly such a lively spirit."

The nurse nods in agreement, not adding anything to what Komaeda has said. "Well…if you would like to see any of them, I think everybody's awake."

“Thank you,” a smile stretches across Komaeda’s face. “I may check in with Hinata-kun after we receive word from Souda. He was quite ill yesterday so I think it would be nice to see how--"

Before Komaeda can finish his sentence, the light on the monitor begins to flash blue, signalling somebody on the other end attempting to make contact. “Ah, what perfect timing,” he comments.

Tsumiki gives the boys a small bow before she returns to the hospital ward, leaving them to deal with the call. As soon as she’s left the room, Kuzuryuu answers it. The screen lights up with an image of Souda in the music venue, face pressed close to the camera. Some of the others are standing behind him, attempting to see over his pink hair.

"Hellooooo!? How is it? Can you see my handsome face?" His joyful voice screeches from the speakers.
"Yeah. We can see your ugly mug," Kuzuryuu grumbles in response, bitter about the mechanic's flippant attitude.

"Hmph! Well, we're all good on our end too! Can see your sad ass faces bright and clear."

Squinting, Komaeda peers a little closer at the screen, noticing a lack of diversity among today’s cast. After all, that bright orange kimono is difficult to miss. “Is Saionji-san not with you?” he asks.

Tanaka chuckles, crossing his arms across his chest with a knowing smile. "It seems you've noticed our departed party member. Alas, her cowardice knows no bounds and thus she has declared us to be her adversaries!"

Sonia clears her throat, signalling that she is willing to elaborate on Tanaka’s rambling.

“Saionji-san has locked herself in her room…” she trails off with a rather pensive look on her face. “She said that she wouldn’t be joining us again until the Despair Disease has been cured.”

“How unfortunate...” Komaeda sighs with disappointment, “An Ultimate shouldn’t be willing to give up hope so easily!”

“Saionji aside,” Nanami interjects, giving nobody the chance to react to Komaeda’s spiel. “What about you guys? How are you doing?”

“Shit,” Kuzuryuu hisses. “How else would we be doing?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the mechanic sighs in exasperation, scratching at his cheek. “Well, none of you guys are sick yet, right?”

“Haha, I doubt even a disease of Monokuma’s creation would strike us down that quickly,” Komaeda chuckles despite the absence of any joke. “We’re still in good health! Although…”

The way he trails off causes the Souda to quirk a brow, “Although..?”

“We would be even better off with more hands on deck. Surely you agree, Souda-kun?”

“Hell no!” with a grimace, Souda tugs his beanie back down. “Ugh, you just want all of us to get sick, don't you? Can we really trust Hinata and the girls being in your care?”

Kuzuryuu scoffs, rolling his eyes at Souda’s very typical display of delayed thinking.

“I don’t see you volunteering.”

“Guys!!” a shrill voice cuts through the air, “Please stop fighting!”

There’s scattered groans of displeasure as Monomi pops into frame, wobbling on her tiny plushie legs. Komaeda has to force himself to blink a couple of times, shocked by her sudden appearance on the other side of the screen.

“Huh? Are you seriously over there, Monomi-san?” he asks in an incredulous tone. “Is it really necessary for you to take such precautions?”

"Y-yes! It's too dangerous for me to get close to the hospital when I don't even know what's going on there…" She grabs ahold of her ears with her tiny stuffed paws as she speaks, voice shaking ever so slightly.

Kuzuryuu’s face pinches into a snarl, eyebrows furrowing deeply, “You’re fucking kidding me…” He slams a fist onto the counter, jostling the monitor, “why would a goddamn stuffed animal need to worry about catching a disease?!"

“Uwaaah! Please don't discriminate! The dD-Despair Disease is horrible and dangerous. It can even destroy this whole island!” The words are stammered out as quickly as the rabbit can speak them. “I know it seems inappropriate, especially since I'm your teacher and supposed to be protecting all of you, but until we can figure out how to deal with it… I'm gonna be on this side…"

There’s a blur of blonde and black as Kuzuryuu lunges forward, a scowl painting his expression as he slams the button on the monitor. The screen flicks to black, leaving only our reflections staring back at us.

"That shitty stuffed animal- she's seriously fuckin' useless! God I'm pissed off!" Kuzuryuu spits, seething to the point his small frame is shaking with rage.
Komaeda opens his mouth to say something, but before he begins to speak Hinata’s words echo through his mind. That disgusted expression he’d worn upon hearing Komaeda’s comment about Pekoyama's sacrifice just the other day. For once in his life, he decides to bite his tongue before the yakuza rips his face off with his own bare hands.

Said yakuza seems to have already pulled himself together without Komaeda’s help, anyways.

“Argh, dammit. It’s not worth it,” he grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”

With that final declaration, he pushes open the door to the hospital, storming out of the hospital and leaving Komaeda standing all by himself in the triage.

All alone in the hospital.

“Hah…” a shiver runs through his spine, forcing Komaeda to wrap his arms around himself, “Hahahah.” The dry laughter echoes around the empty room. There was nothing for them to do now but wait, wait and hope things got better. But in the meantime, it probably wouldn't hurt to go check up on Tsumiki, or Hinata, or anyone for that matter. Anything to get rid of this feeling of loneliness.

Shaking off that thought, he pushes open the door to the hospital ward.

The long corridor is quiet and almost eerily empty, a much different scene to the one he had seen the other day as everyone clamoured and pushed past one another to get to Kuzuryuu’s room. The only person standing in the hallway now is Tsumiki, wringing her hands as her eyes glance back and forth quickly between the ward’s entrance and the stairs. She perks up the second Komaeda enters her line of sight, something so unusual it throws Komaeda off guard.

“Oh, Komaeda-san!” she smiles wide, “H-How are the o-others?”

He walks towards her slowly with a smile, an action that reminds him of a person approaching a scared puppy. "I think they're doing okay,” he says in a soft voice, “Saionji's apparently holed up in her room though. She's scared of catching the disease.”

"Oh! Th-that's good to hear!” stammering over her words, Tsumiki begins to shake her head and wave her hands aggressively. “I-I mean! I-I-It's really unfortunate! I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t yell at me!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Komaeda chuckles. “I think I understand. What you meant is that it's wonderful that everyone's doing okay, but unfortunate that Saionji's already given up hope, right?"

The nurse stops her arm waving, pursing her lips as she stares towards the floor with a flushed expression. “Y-yes… Something like that.”

“That aside,” Komaeda’s eyes glance towards the door to Hinata’s room. “Is Hinata-kun awake? I’d like to see how he’s doing after yesterday.”

Tsumiki smiles a little, "O-Oh! Of c-course, he's been up for a little wh-while, you're f-free to see him…" Before Komaeda can thank her, she begins to speak again, "I should m-mention before you go in…"

He turns his full attention toward her, cocking his head to the side. "H-Hinata-san's a little… mentally unwell," she whispers.

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, Komaeda has to blink a few times to fully process his confusion. "I may be stepping out of my pace by saying this but… isn't everyone here? After all, I don't think Owari-san's stopped crying since she got here."

"Y-Yes! Th-that's true! I-It's just… Hinata's been a little… delusional. I-I'm a bit worried he m-might try to hurt you…"

A smile tugs at the corners of Komaeda's mouth, forcing him to suppress the urge to laugh at such an outrageous thought. Hinata could barely stand yesterday. It would be genuinely surprising if he could kill anyone in such a state, but if it's Tsumiki who's concerned, then that concern may actually be warranted.

"Please don't worry, I can fight off Hinata-kun if the need comes," Komaeda smiles so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Tsumiki gives him one last concerned glance before stuttering out, "O-Okay then." She takes off down the corridor, disappearing into Mioda's room.

"Well, that was odd," Komaeda comments to himself.

With Tsumiki’s approval for visitation, he strides up to the door of the second room with a little less confidence than before. He raps his knuckles lightly against the timber, wondering if Hinata is even going to answer. That is until a voice cuts through the thoughts fogging his mind.

"Komaeda."

There's a distinct lack of emotion behind it. A very simple statement of his name, no underlying anger or irritation. Despite the alienating feeling that comes with it, Komaeda assumes that the calling of his name is permission to enter, thus he turns the knob and slowly pushes open the door.

The first thing he notices is the fact that Hinata is out of his bed, instead situated near a white cabinet at the opposite end of the room. In his hand he holds a flower, presumably plucked from the potted plant in front of him. He makes no acknowledgement of Komaeda's arrival, instead keeping his eyes fixated on the crimson flower between his fingers.

Cautiously, Komaeda steps inside, his feet barely making a sound against the concrete floor. He slowly pulls the door, allowing it to shut behind him with a 'click'.

"Do you know the significance of the equinox flower?" Hinata suddenly speaks.

It takes a moment for Komaeda to realise that Hinata is talking to him, presumably attempting some sort of conversation with this odd topic. "Ah, I don't, actually. I've never been well versed in flower symbolism," he says with a soft smile.

"Buddhist scripture says that they sprout in the afterlife, guiding the dead toward their next reincarnation." Hinata speaks in an almost bored tone, as though knowing these facts is just second nature to him. "I can't help but wonder if that's why it was planted in this room."

"Haha," a nervous chuckle escapes Komaeda. "I don't think I understand. Are you implying that this is the afterlife? That we’re already dead?"

Hinata glances back towards him, gaze steely and judgemental. It causes Komaeda to shiver as an uncomfortable feeling brings the hairs on the back of his neck to attention. It's as though the other can see straight through him, pick his psyche apart piece by piece like a raven devouring roadkill. When Hinata speaks again, this unnerving feeling only continues to grow; "Do you honestly believe otherwise?"

"Well, it's obvious to me that we are still alive," a cocky grin spreads across Komaeda's face, despite him being confused by Hinata's statement. "Do you really think that this is the afterlife, Hinata-kun? I can't imagine that something like Monokuma would be awaiting us after death."

"Not exactly," Hinata says. "Not death in a traditional sense."

For a moment he is silent, seemingly mulling things over in his head. Inevitably, he shifts his gaze back towards the flower, once again fixated by it. "I believe this was placed here as a means of reminding me of my purpose. That I'm merely being guided toward my reincarnation as Hinata Hajime; that I have no control over what happens next, nor could I ever hope to predict it."

For a moment there he could have sworn he saw a smile tugging at the corners of Hinata's mouth. Unexpectedly, Komaeda finds himself at a loss for words.

"I… I don't quite understand what you mean."

"An inevitability."

He sighs in frustration, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Such a vague conversation with no concrete feeling behind it is just infuriating to Komaeda. The way Hinata is speaking is puzzling, incomprehensible, and Komaeda can't help but resent the way this disease makes him act. It’s almost as though he’s thinking of something, that he knows something, but simply refuses to be specific. It’s nothing like the Hinata he knew, the Hinata who could put together all the evidence to form a spectacular vision of hope.

No, Hinata had become a husk of his former self. An empty emotionless shell that not even despair inhabited.

And yet… he’s listening to Komaeda. He hasn’t willingly spoken to him since Togami’s death. Now here he stands at his illest; when he should be resting in bed, he is instead talking to Komaeda. Maybe it’s something as simple as being too exhausted to push Komaeda away, or perhaps after being cooped up in the hospital he has begun to grow lonely. Perhaps his outlook on life has changed. Either way, it’s more than Komaeda deserves. Scum like himself doesn’t deserve to get close to somebody as radiant as Hinata-kun.
Hinata’s voice suddenly cuts through his thoughts, tearing them in two.

“The others are staying in the Hotel to avoid contagion, correct?”

“Huh?” he startles, “Yeah that’s right.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Komaeda realises something. “Wait, how do you know that it’s contagious? You had already fainted by the time Monokuma disclosed that information to us.”

Pursing his lips together briefly, Hinata takes a small breath. “The fact Souda didn’t want to escort me to the hospital told me all I needed to know. It’s unusual for somebody like him to refuse to help an acquaintance out of sheer laziness.” He pauses, turning his full attention to Komaeda, “What made it apparent that Monokuma had revealed that to the class was in your enthusiasm to assist.”

Blinking a few times, Komaeda realises that Hinata is catching on to him faster than he would have expected. It’s strange, Hinata is definitely an intelligent person, but Komaeda couldn't recall him ever being this quick-witted. “What exactly do you mean by ‘my enthusiasm to assist’?”

“You would hate to be left out of the game, wouldn’t you?” Hinata glances back down to the flower in his hand, twirling it between his fingers, “You had to make up for how much you missed before Koizumi was murdered, so upon hearing about the newest motive, you just had to get involved.” The other boy’s bleary eyes narrow as he looks back up, staring straight into Komaeda’s eyes. “So, what do you plan to do, Komaeda Nagito?”

Komaeda’s body seizes. Time seems to freeze around him, his heart thudding away loudly in his chest and blood rushing in his ears. Hinata is suddenly no longer by the cabinet, but rather eye to eye with him. His nose is barely millimetres from the other boy’s, so close that Komaeda can feel the warmth of his breath on his face.

He can’t do anything but fixate on the boy before him, every sight and sensation feeling intensified by the air between them. Hinata’s lightly tanned skin, cheeks so flushed with fever that he can feel the heat radiating off him. His chapped, irritated lips, rosy red in colour. There’s murky swirls deep within those hazel eyes, glassy and sunken with fatigue. Even if he’s up and walking around, there is no doubt that Hinata is sick.
Komaeda’s heart races, but he doesn't understand why. This sensation is so incredibly foreign to him, he can’t even tell what it is.

Is he feeling attraction?

Or is it fear?

Slowly, Hinata lips part, dry skin sticking apart from itself. “Your intentions lie in dangerous places. Either you are planning to take advantage of our diseased states and murder Mioda, Owari, or myself,” he pauses, brushing his thumb against Komaeda’s chin before taking hold in a firm grip. “Or, the more likely scenario: you intend to spread the despair disease in hopes of indirectly causing a murder.”

It’s too much for Komaeda. He must be going insane. This isn’t the Hinata Hajime he knows.

A raspy little chuckle escapes him as he cracks a grin at the other boy. There’s a strange emotion bubbling in his chest. On one hand, it’s incredibly disappointing that Hinata had managed to catch on to him so early, before he had even managed to do anything. On the other hand, Hinata’s newfound insight has given him much to think about.

“I was right,” Hinata says, voice barely a whisper. “How exactly do you plan to pull something like this off?”

“I have a few different ideas,” drawing in a shaky breath, a smile cracks on Komaeda’s face. The one currently playing out involves Souda-san. “You see, if luck is in my favour, then he has already contracted the Despair Disease from merely touching your arms and the symptoms have yet to manifest. He’s the diseased hiding among the healthy, rendering the quarantine completely pointless.”

Hinata passively observes as Komaeda begins to spiral. “The hope brought on by every single Ultimate falling into despair will be magnificent! Even now you’re all fighting so hard against it, I can’t begin to imagine what it will be like to watch you all piece yourselves back together. Using your talents and brilliant minds, desperately trying to understand what the Despair Disease truly meant whilst figuring out the motive for the murder.” The lucky student wraps his arms around his waist, holding himself tightly together as if he’s going to burst from the uncontained excitement. He laughs dryly to himself. “Hahah, I can hardly wait!”

The room is silent except for the sound of Komaeda’s giggles. Hinata’s judging gaze lingers on him, before the boy finally sighs and lets go of him. “How boring,” he mutters.

“Ah, I-I’m sorry to have been such a dis-”

“Luck? How predictable,” Hinata spits, voice heavy with irritation. “Utilising a talent as boring as luck, hoping that it will bring about the despair you desire? I was right not to expect anything more from you.”

Every single muscle in Komaeda's body tenses as a primal fear takes hold of him. He stares with wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights, a rabbit standing before a starving wolf. And that wolf does not hesitate to pounce upon him the second Komaeda opens his mouth to speak.

Hinata grabs his jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks in a way that keeps his teeth from meeting. A strangled noise akin to a whimper forces itself from Komaeda's throat as he attempts to step backwards, going nowhere. His knees shake with weakness and yet his body feels strangely light. It's as though he is putty in the other boy's hands, completely submitted to his control.

"If you want to spread the Despair Disease so badly," Hinata begins, the harsh tone of his voice betraying his disinterested expression. "Why don't you take it?"

As he leans in close, Komaeda squeezes his eyes shut tightly. The adrenaline coursing through him has already convinced him that the next few breaths will be his last, that this is the part where Hinata finally does away with him. For some reason the very idea of dying by Hinata's hands doesn't sound so awful, causing an inappropriate sensation to stir in his gut.

A breathy laugh escapes him. It's ridiculous that this is how he's going to be done in, purely in the heat of the moment. It would barely even require a trial to determine that it was Hinata's handiwork. Imagining it only makes him laugh harder, until those laughs are cut dead by something warm firmly pressing against his lips, devouring the breath from his lungs.

His mind blanks. Feeling such a sensation is… unthinkable.

This can't be right, this can't be happening. Not to him. Not with him.

But the reality before him cannot be denied when Hinata's hot tongue grazes his own. The resulting electricity is enough to awaken him from his daze and Komaeda opens his mouth, eagerly locking lips with the other.

The euphoria flooding his brain is overwhelming to the point of dizziness. This is exactly what he has wanted, and yet he knows how wrong it is, how disgusting he is for taking advantage of Hinata like this. The bad luck awaiting him must be immense, perhaps so powerful that it could be the thing that finally ends his life.

Despite knowing this, Komaeda sinks into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Hinata's neck. As his chest presses against his, he can feel the burning fever radiating from Hinata's skin. It's very possible that he could catch the disease from him, that being so close only increases his risk, yet Komaeda can't bring himself to care. The prospect even excites him a little, coaxing a little moan from his throat.

Hinata's mouth tastes of blood and stale water, and yet Komaeda sucks greedily at his tongue. His ears are filled with the sound of his own beating heart and the wet noises their lips make as they rub against each other. A rivulet of drool drips from Hinata's mouth, rolling down his chin. It's getting harder and harder to breathe as he sinks deeper and deeper into him.
Pulling his face free from Hinata's grip, Komaeda separates the kiss. He gasps for breath, chest heaving and lungs aching. Hinata pants softly, staring at him with half-lidded, glazed over eyes. His expression is calm, unfeeling, unexcited. He's nowhere near as worked up about this as Komaeda is.

Komaeda feels his heart sink. How stupid he is for thinking Hinata could return his feelings like that. Why would he think it would be any different? Why would he hold such a worthless hope that Hinata would have felt anything more?

When Hinata speaks, his voice is hoarse, "K-Komae--"
He chokes on the name, face paling. For a split second, terror passes over his face, before his eyes roll back in his head. It all happens so fast as he slips from Komaeda's grasp, collapsing to the floor below.

"H-Hinata-kun?!"

Chapter 5: Crush

Summary:

Volunteering is a great way to make friends! I wouldn't recommend it to anyone ever! But I loved developing these relationships between Komeda and the others. I hope you enjoy reading these next couple of chapters as much as I did writing them.

Notes:

If you're coming back because you got a notification you were still subscribed to this fic, hi! I love you! Thanks for coming back! I have rewritten the whole fucking thing and you've probably forgotten anyway! If you're still interested, I'd recommend you start from the beginning or else it's gonna be a bit confusing! Love you, thank you!

Hinata lies sprawled out on the floor facing towards the ceiling. His body almost looks lifeless, save for the occasional twitches of his fingers and eyelids as neurons and muscles misfire in a feeble attempt to keep him conscious.

Kneeling down, Komaeda takes the boy's burning face into his hand and angles it towards his own. Hinata is incredibly pale, the flush of his fever the only remaining colour left on his pale skin. His breathing is slow and shallow, every little warm breath close enough for Komaeda to taste on his lips as he leans in close. It’s impossible to keep calm when Hinata is in such a state. 

"Hinata-kun! I understand if you're so repulsed by my actions that you've passed out, and I know it's more than I should ask of you..." The words spill from Komaeda's mouth, too rushed and barely intelligible, "But please give me some sign you're okay."

Komaeda’s hands start to shake, enough so that his hold on Hinata’s face becomes too loose to support the weight of his head. His face slips from his grasp, head lolling to the side as a soft gasp escapes Komaeda's lips. 

Did he kill Hinata-kun? No, that's ridiculous. You can't kill somebody by kissing them. Well, you can, technically, but not like this . Surely not?

He wipes the remaining saliva from his lips, subtle evidence of a possible cause of death. Carefully rising to his feet, he stares down at Hinata’s weakened form. Fear is beginning to take hold, anxiety burning through his bloodstream and forcing him to snap out of his petrified state. 

There's no way Komaeda can lose him, not to such a hopeless cause. Hinata-kun doesn't deserve to die such a pointless death by his own worthless hands. He deserves something grandiose, something exhilarating. 

This kind of death would just be… boring. Wasteful.

"Tsumiki-san!!" he calls out, his feet setting into motion as he makes a dash for the room's exit.

For a second, Komaeda realises that there was a chance that Tsumiki could have accidentally seen the repulsive things he did to Hinata-kun and a sense of relief passes over him that he collapsed before she did. Komaeda quickly scolds himself for thinking such a selfish thought. Hinata’s life is in danger and here he is, thinking of how glad he feels that Tsumiki didn’t see him sucking face? How pathetic.

There’s no doubt about it: It is his own luck that caused Hinata to pass out. It's protecting Komaeda from being caught preying on him. That realisation caused something deep within his chest to ache with repulsion, dread, undiluted terror. 

Despair. 

He can only assume it's that same twisted luck that guides him into Tsumiki's arms, causing him to bump straight into her as she's entering the room. All of the school's advice against running in the halls is wasted on the likes of Komaeda. They slam hard into one another with an "Oof." 

As Tsumiki goes crashing to the floor, the saline bag in her hand is squished into her chest, causing it to burst and soak her clothes with salty water. They stick to her body damply, clinging to her skin in an erotic way. Her skirt also flies up in the process, flashing Komaeda with an inappropriate amount of thigh along with her white underwear. 

"Uwahh! K-K-K-Komaeda-san!!" She squeals, pulling her skirt down in a desperate attempt to save her dignity as her face flushes a bright red. 

"A-ah, I'm so sorry you had to even accidentally touch somebody as disgusting as me!" Komaeda says as he reaches out a hand, offering to help her up. "My apologies for running, but it appears that Hinata-kun has collapsed."

"Wahh?! D-D-Don't worry about me, t-that's what you should be concerned about!" 

Tsumiki grabs his disgusting hand, allowing him to help pull her up to her feet. Without another word she scoots past him and into the room, abandoning the spilt saline bag on the floor. The nurse practically pounces on Hinata's lifeless body, throwing herself into her brilliant talent as she presses her ear to his chest and a hand to his forehead.

“He- he’s burning right up! Wh-why was he even out of bed?" She begins throwing a flurry of questions at Komaeda, all whilst examining Hinata's eyes for any sign of possible head trauma. "What was he doing before he collapsed?!" 

"He was…" Komaeda pauses, teeth teasing unconsciously at his bottom lip. Should he lie in this situation? Or is it better to tell the truth? Especially if something could go medically wrong for Hinata. Surely that couldn't possibly happen, though? It would be safest to lie, for both of their sakes. 

"Kissing me," he confesses. "We were making out."

The nurse's head snaps around, turning unnaturally far in a way that unsettles the boy before her. Her grey eyes bear right into him; an expression of rage mixed with shock. "A-Are you s-s-serious?! K-Komaeda-san, that's so irresponsible! You should know that you'll catch th--" 

“Are you really that gullible?" he slides his hands up the sides of his arms, gripping at the sleeves of his jacket as he pulls his eyes away from Tsumiki’s. “Don't you know that kind of thing only happens in fiction? It would be repulsive for somebody like me to take advantage of an Ultimate’s illness for my own selfish desires. The very thought makes me want to vomit in my mouth!”

Tsumiki narrows her eyes for a second in thought, before realisation sets in and they shoot back open. “O-oh! I see…”

“Ha, hahahah.” Bringing a hand to his mouth, Komaeda touches his lips absentmindedly as he glances toward Hinata's body still laid out on the floor. 

Was it wrong of him to say that? He can't have Tsumiki knowing his true intentions. She would stop him without hesitation. Perhaps the others would tie him up again, and then he would miss the murder and the investigation... How awful. But he can't shake this odd feeling that lying is the wrong thing, that he should tell the truth. There is a possibility that not being honest about the cause of Hinata's fainting spell could lead to complications further on.

It could even be the one thing that leads to his death. After all, his condition is somewhat worse than Owari or Mioda's…

But owning up would reveal his intentions and likely ruin any chance of allowing the Ultimates to shine even brighter…

No. Komaeda shakes his head free of the thoughts. The silence is dragging on too long, Tsumiki will start questioning his words unless he speaks up soon. 

“Well then… should we move him?”

"R-right!" with a few fervent nods, the nurse hops off Hinata's body, "Yes! Please help me get him onto the bed so I can properly tend to Hinata-san's needs!"

Hinata-san's needs… huh? How lewd. 

"Well then," nodding in return, Komaeda brings himself to Hinata's side and kneels down to the floor. "Are you okay getting his legs?" 

"O-Of course!" scrambling over to where his legs are sprawled out on the floor, Tsumiki quickly slides her arms under the back of Hinata's knees. "I'm r-ready to lift him when-whenever you are."

Komaeda hooks his arms under the boy's armpits, making sure to not take note of just how damp and sweaty he was with fever. There's a moment of eye contact, a quick nod, and then together the two lift him. 

Thankfully the hospital rooms are so small that they didn't have to move Hinata incredibly far to return him to his bed. Tsumiki rearranges his sheets, carefully tucking him back under the dull blue comforter as she examines his arms. 

"I-I-I was going to re-replace his IV… but it l-looks like he's p-pulled it out," with a rather disdainful expression, she glances over to the IV pole. "Again…"

Just as she said, there's a line pooled on the floor, the small tube that had presumably been in his arm now having smeared blood on the floor. The machine has stopped infusing. In fact, it has been switched off entirely so as to not alert Tsumiki. Any remaining fluid has now drained onto the floor, forming a small puddle of saline.  

"He's been rather uncharacteristically troublesome, hasn't he?" Unable to resist the urge, Komaeda chuckles as he glances over at the restless, almost pained look on Hinata's face. "I'm sorry, it's reprehensible that I would laugh at your struggle, but I could never see Hinata-kun kicking up such a fuss in his usual state."

There’s a short moment of agonising silence before Tsumiki bursts into giggles as well, clasping her hands together. "Y-You're right! H-Hinata-san is v-very different. But it's okay! We w-will get through this!" 

"That's the spirit! Your hope is amazing Tsumiki-san! For you to still have not given up on Hinata-kun like that… It's amazing! Truly nobody has such a dedication to their patients like that of the Ultimate Nurse’s!" As Komaeda takes a rather sharp inhale, he can't help the big grin that spreads across his face. "Seeing you in action like this has brought a worthless nobody like me hope and distracted me from all my worries!" 

Ah, my… worries. His smile becomes a little more strained. 

Tsumiki stares at the boy with a mix of disgust and fear, the enjoyment she had been feeling at receiving compliments long gone with the unsubtle reminder of just how unhinged of a person Komaeda really is. Despite this, he refuses to let his smile fall. 

Then it finally dawns on him that it’s probably time to leave her be and let her work in peace. 

He lifts his hand, "Well, I won't get in your way any longer,” he waves to her, heading towards the door. "Goodbye."

As he leaves the scene, Komaeda steals one last glance at the room. The spider lily Hinata had been holding previously lay in the place he had collapsed, presumably having been abandoned when he advanced upon Komaeda. It seems as though it has been crushed among the chaos, red petals scattered and bleeding onto the linoleum floor. He turns away quickly. 

He can't help but wonder why his mind is racing, unable to focus on his goal. Why does he feel so distracted? Why is he so s acred ? 

Hinata kissed him. He wants Komaeda to spread the disease. He told him to spread it. That should be his top priority. So why is he gripped by this desperate need to turn back? To return and sit by Hinata's side, taking care of his every need instead of spreading hope? 

As Komaeda steps out into the hallway, he shuts the door behind him with a trembling hand. That sensation in his chest only continues to grow as he makes his way back towards the waiting room.

He should be putting a plan into place: something that would allow him to spread the disease faster. Perhaps he can find a way to lure one of the uninfected here, bring them into contact. Or maybe he can bring the infected into the quarantined hotel? Or he can go back into Hinata's room to go check on him again? 

Or should he just tell the others that Hinata is dying and that he so desperately needed them to come do something about it before it becomes the fault of himself and his filthy luck; that the blood of an Ultimate coated his hands and he should be so deservedly executed. 

Unconsciously, his fingers find their way into his hair, winding themselves around the coarse locks and pulling tightly. There is a familiar sound ringing in his ears, the loud buzzing of a swarm of insects. Filling his ears and mouth and eyes with their filthy touch, tainting everything in sight, destroying the world before him. 

"It's your fault he's going to die," They whisper, barely audible beneath the white noise. "It's always your fault. You know this."

He cannot halt his racing mind from running over the possibility again and again. His lungs burn. It is as if a thick miasma is seeping over his brain, dripping down over his eyes, obscuring his vision and thoughts. He can't think straight. Everything is so overwhelming and suffocating that it's almost funny. 

It is funny, so he laughs. It hurts his chest and wheezes like the final pitiful exhale of a corpse, but he laughs. 

And he laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs! 

Until suddenly something hits him hard on the back of my head, knocking him from his daze and causing him to choke on his breath. 

"Oi. Stop freaking out, it's fuckin' creepy." 

Komaeda blinks a few times, his vision beginning to clear as those dark shadows are chased back into the corners of his vision. Through the haze of his eyes, the world slowly comes back into view and he finds himself in the hospital's lobby with a rather angry looking yakuza glaring down his nose at him. Kuzuryuu scowls, crossing his arms over his chest tightly and forcing himself to stand up taller. 

Ah, of course. How unsightly it must be to watch someone like himself being so pathetic. 

All his attempts to apologise are drowned out as he coughs and splutters, attempting to regain his breath. The world is much clearer now, his eyes readjusting to the tropical sunshine streaming through the windows. Looks as though he had sat himself down in the waiting area of the triage at some point, and yet he has no memory of ever moving from the wards. 

He unclenches his fists, fingers aching from the strain as they unfold and release his hair. The pain pulling at his scalp fades as he slowly brings his shaking hands down to his knees. To his frustration, he instinctively grips tightly at the fabric anyways, clutching desperately until the denim burns painfully into his palms.

As Komaeda slowly opens his mouth again, he attempts to say some sort of apology for his misgivings, but all that comes out is a raspy, "Ah," closely followed by a shaky, "Sorry." 

Kuzuryuu huffs, his nose crinkling as he prepares to spit some kind of insult. But before he begins ripping into Komaeda he pauses, leaving the two of them in sound silence for a few seconds (though it feels more like an eternity.) Eventually he sighs loudly, allowing his body to relax a little and posture fall. 

"He's fine," the gangster says in a rough voice. "Don't get so fuckin' worked up about it." 

"I'm… sure you're right." A breathy laugh forces itself out, as if squeezed out by the tight feeling in Komaeda's chest. "After all, you are an Ultimate."

"Wha-? You think being an Ultimate makes me right about everything?" Kuzuryuu scoffs, not in a tone as though he'e looking down on and mocking Komaeda, but more that he finds Komaeda's words to be… amusing? 

"They're wrong about you being crazy, you're just a fucking moron like me. Or maybe I'm the crazy one for even talking to you. Who knows?" 

It's difficult to think of what to say in response to that. Surely such a loaded statement can't even be responded to., but Komaeda has to say something. He decides not to think too long about it, instead choosing to laugh along with him, "Perhaps."

The small smile on Kuzuryuu's face gradually falls. The positive feeling in the air evaporates like mist and a heavy silence settles over the room. All that can be heard in the empty waiting room is the sound of Owari sobbing as though her life depends on it echoing down the corridor from her room. Eventually Kuzuryuu breaks the silence with a rather dramatic sigh as he plops himself down in the seat next to Komaeda's, leaning back in the stiff plastic hospital chair as best he can.

“I think I’m… starting to get your whole crazy ‘stepping stone to hope’ shit.” He pauses to scoff at himself, as though in shock that he's saying such a thing. “Ever since Peko saved me it feels like I owe this life to her, or to everyone else. It’s like it’s not my own anymore. Just a spare.”

"If I'm not wrong, you're referring to Pekoyama-san's sacrifice? It’s no surprise you feel that way, but there was very little you could have done to prevent her execution. It's possible that your interference may have even made things worse!" 

Kuzuryuu grumbles at the statement, but the fact that he isn't leaping to his feet to choke Komaeda out is a very good sign. At least, in Komaeda's opinion. Kuzuryuu instead hangs his head in his hands, muttering to himself, "It's that stupid fucking Monokuma’s fault." 

It's a pleasant surprise that he’s acting as calm as he is, considering the fact he reacted rather poorly when Komaeda brought up her sacrifice during Owari’s fight as well. Dancing around the topic just seems pointles. What Pekoyama did for the one she loved was amazing; there‘s no logical reason not to acknowledge that. 

"But what kind of fucking person am I to let Peko take the blow for me after all that I said? All the promises I made to her? It’s messed up. The only reason I didn’t die is because she shielded me, a tool ‘til the end." There's an awfully bitter tone dripping from Kuzuryuu's tongue as he says those words. He slams his small fist against his leg, seemingly growing more frustrated by his lack of action as he continues to think about it.

Komaeda shrugs, "Pekoyama-san was an amazing person. She sacrificed herself for the sake of your hope, so that you could continue to be a beacon for your family and the Kuzuryuu Clan. There's no point in being angry at her for doing the right thing…"

The right thing, huh?  

"What she did wasn't the right thing! The right thing would have been for her to stay with me!" Jumping out of his chair, Kuzuryuu glares down at him. "There’s no such thing as a ‘hopeful death,’ you dumbass!" 

Spreading hope is the right thing to do, so that's what I should do, right?

"Hey! Are you even listening to me? Jesus, you really are messed in the head." He scrunches up his nose in a snarl, "I'm trying to be more forgiving and a better fucking person or whatver, but you really piss me off; going on and on about how everything is great as long as it's for fucking hope!"

I don't need to worry about my feelings. I just need to spread hope like Pekoyama-san did. 

Komaeda looks up at him, locking eyes as he smiles widely at the Yakuza. "I think I get it now. Thank you, Kuzuryuu-kun, you are a truly wonderful person. I'm sure Pekoyama-san is proud of you."

"What?! What the hell are you talking about, you bastard? Don't go around saying things like that..." In an attempt to hide his reddening face, Kuzuryuu turns his head to the side and looks away from the other boy. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Komaeda raises his hands in a defensive position in hopes of calming him. 

"Whatever… just go take a break or something." Still refusing to look at him, Kuzuryuu grumbles, "I'll take care of things here, alright?" 

Komaeda nods. "Thank you, Kuzuryuu-kun, you really do make a brilliant leader."

"Just get out of here!"

Laughing softly, Komaeda carefully rises to his feet, still feeling a little dizzy from lack of oxygen. As Kuzuryuu begins to head back towards the wards, a realisation dawns upon him, "Wait! How did you know about what happened to Hinata-kun?" 

"Huh?" Kuzuryuu stops, spinning around to face him. "Because you came in here cackling like a maniac. You wouldn't answer my questions so I checked in with Tsumiki about it. By the time I got back you were still out here having a fuckin’ breakdown, just sat there babblin’ away about how you’re a murderer like a fuckin’ sicko creep."

"Ah," yeah, that sounds right, he thinks. "Sorry about that."

Kuzuryuu shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before pushing open the doors to the corridor and continuing on his way. 

Komaeda figures it was probably time he listened to Kuzuryuu and did as he was told. After all, this is too good of an opportunity not to take advantage of. He has to set his plan into motion. With a wide smile, he heads towards the entrance of the hospital, pushing open the doors before stepping out into the warm sunlight. 

Chapter 6: Tradition

Summary:

Does the timeline of this make sense? No. Did I put a lot of research into how to tie a kimono? Yes. Please be kind to my feelings

Komaeda draws in a deep breath, savouring the way the sun warms his skin and the salty air heals his woes. It’s incredibly soothing compared to the tense atmosphere of the hospital: something that will likely continue to worsen with Hinata's ever declining state.

Shaking the thought off, he shields his eyes and glances up towards the sun. It’s beginning to near noon, meaning the chance of encountering another person should be low. Surely the others would be doing something to bide their time, especially since there’s an abundance of interesting things to explore.

He doesn't need to look at his handbook to know that Souda’s probably scavenging Electric Avenue. Sonia had mentioned an attempt to investigate a cure on the night they had parted ways, so it’s likely she’s currently researching in the library. Tanaka will surely follow along with her plans, as will Nanami. Well, Nanami will at least be gaming in the library with them.

And according to Tanaka's account, Saionji is locked in her room.

He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, beginning to walk in the direction of the music avenue. It works to his advantage that he won't be gone for a suspiciously long amount of time; his destination is close by.

Everything would be fine at the hospital without him. In fact, it’s probably better this way. Who knows when his luck will strike and mess things up again?

His teeth snag at his bottom lip.

Glancing to the left, Komaeda eyes the movie theatre in the distance. A feeling of disgust and anger tightens his jaw, and he can't help but squint in disdain upon recalling that awful movie. Such a worthless waste of time for absolutely nothing.

No motive, no ideas on where they were and who was pulling the strings, certainly no further information on the identity of "World Ender."

At the present, the only thing that could be determined is that they must be an organisation capable of pulling together something truly massive. There’s nothing currently that leads to their identity other than Monomi’s affiliation with them.

Though, Monokuma did say that the motive this time is the despair disease, right? Komaeda can't help but wonder why exactly. Is it simply because of the vulnerable state the others have been left in due to the illness?

Or perhaps it’s considered a motive due to something else?

Hinata knows something. He’s been acting strange from the effects of despair disease, but to speak of vague things as if they were common knowledge… it's strange.

"I'm merely being guided towards my reincarnation as Hinata Hajime."

What could he possibly mean by that?

Komaeda's shoes crunch rhythmically against the gravel, until the ground beneath him changes to asphalt. Looking up, his eyes are instantly drawn to that yellow neon sign.

Titty Typhoon.

He considers it a shame he did not learn more English in his youth. The name sounds very cool; there’s no doubt it's meaning is even cooler.

Reaching towards the door, Komaeda slowly pushes it open with his right hand. The sound of the hinges groaning echoes throughout the whole building. It’s empty; a ghost town without Mioda's singing to liven the place up.

Stepping inside, he carefully glances around the venue to ensure that there’s nobody there. Of course, there wouldn't be; it’s nowhere near time to call.
The lights must have been left on from this morning when the last call was. Monomi has no stupid rules about energy conservation, so it’s no surprise they hadn't been switched off.

No darkness means less spaces for surprise murderers to hide in.

Despite this, Komaeda can't resist the urge to double check, eyeing the darker corners of the venue as he slowly stalks his way across the room. All is quiet, there's no movement in any shadows.

Good. There can be no witnesses to this. This ambiguity of the crime will only make the trial more interesting.

He makes his way over to where the communication device sits: on the floor directly in front of the stage. It's a gaudy little thing, cheap pink plastic and buttons that make it reminiscent of a handheld game console. Leaning down, he picks the device up in his hands, almost dropping it in the process due to the sweat on his palms. With a firmer grip, he brings it a little closer.

It’s truly a mechanical marvel. Souda's abilities are nothing to be scoffed at for him to be able to create a telecommunication device out of nothing but scrap metal and spare parts, even if he himself is a rather pathetic human being. The range may be short, but it’s still incredibly impressive considering what he had to work with.

He will understand why Komaeda had to do this.
With the communication device held tightly in both hands, he slowly raises it above his head.

They would all understand, right?

Using all of his pitiful strength, Komaeda throws the device down, resulting in a pleasurable sound of crunching plastic and glass. Shards sprinkle across the concrete floor, scattering around his feet like tiny insects

He can't suppress the little smile that comes to his face. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of teenagehood, but there’s something so therapeutic about destroying something you aren’t supposed to. A giddiness reaches his brain as his stomach sinks through the floor. It's an awful feeling.

Collecting himself, he rushes towards the exit. He can't be caught so soon. His sneakers squeak hideously against the polished resin floor, but he mustn't be caught doing this.

"I-Is someone there?! C-C-Come out you p-pervert!!!"

His heart comes to a dead stop in his chest. That shrill voice came from within the music venue, to the right of the stage. It sounds muffled, is somebody…?

Komaeda's breath halts as he realises; he had completely forgotten to check the storage room. Just his luck, huh?

"I know you're there!"

The door slams open, a short figure stepping out with a loud huff. They're awkwardly clothed in a loosely tied kimono, blonde hair pulled up into pigtails that seem to be losing volume like deflating balloons.

There's no mistaking it: it's Saionji. Poorly dressed with her kimono hanging off one shoulder, puffy cheeked and red in the face, but still definitely Saionji.

Komaeda steps in front of the mess behind him, hoping to hide the evidence of his crime. "A-Ah, Saionji-san. I didn't--"

"Big bro Komaeda?!" Saionji's round eyes slowly narrow in a suspicious squint, until she's giggling. "I knew it, I always knew you were a lolicon! Hoping to get the jump on me whilst I was all defenceless huh?"

Shaking his head, Komaeda steps forward slowly. "No, not at all. I was actually--"

"Wait a second, you shouldn't be here!!" She looks down at him with a glare of repulsion, bundling up a handful of her kimono and pulling it closer to her chest.

"I was just taking a break. I wanted to see if anything needed cleaning up here." Smiling brightly, Komaeda dismisses her concerns with a wave of his hand. "I didn't think anyone would be here."

Expression morphing from disgust into a cheeky grin, Saionji snickers to herself. "Oooh! So Kuzuryuu kicked you out so he could get a break from you?"

His smile strains, "Something like that."

"Well, nothing needs cleaning up here, so go away! Go back to that disease ridden hospital with that dirty bitch!" Spinning around, Saionji begins to walk herself back to the storage room, dragging half of her kimono along the floor behind her.

"Wait!" Komaeda calls out.

The dancer stops in her tracks.

"You need help, don't you?"

There's a loud snort, and Saionji starts giggling again. "I don't want any help from you."

"I can show you how to tie it. You used to have somebody else do it for you, right?" He takes another step closer to her. "And now that Koizumi-san is gone…"

"Shut up!" Saionji whips around, face red from something he isn't sure is anger or embarrassment. "Don't you dare speak her name with your gross mouth!"

"So, you'll let me help you then?" Komaeda tilts his head slightly.

"I’ll only let you help me if you prove that you're clean!" Saionji points an accusatory finger in his face, forcing him to step back a little. "If you have no temperature, and go wash your hands, then you can come near me."

"Of course!" he says. "We wouldn't want to risk transmitting the disease, now would we?"

The girl squints in suspicion, but makes no further argument. Komaeda crouches down to her height, threading a hand into his hair and pulling his bangs out of the way. With a slightly shaking hand, Saionji reaches her hand out to his forehead, just barely touching the skin.

Her hand is small and warm. Just like a child's, Komaeda thinks.

She pulls back, holding her arm close to her body protectively, "UGH I feel like you just had a creepy thought!!! You're lucky I'm not screaming for help!"

Komaeda lets go of his hair, watching as she wipes her hands off on her loose kimono as though she just touched something disgusting. Well, she had, technically.

"Well, you're not burning up. Even if you are sweating like a whore in church. Seriously, how are you that sweaty?!" The disgusted look on Saionji's face would almost sting if it wasn't completely deserved. "Ugh, don't answer that. Go wash your hands."

"Anything for you, Saionji-san!" he gives her a big grin, which is met with even more repulsion.

He leaves her standing in the venue to go use the men's bathroom, which is tucked away on the other side of the bar. Komaeda pushes open the door and slowly steps inside, subconsciously looking around for any hidden figures.

The door swings shut behind him, causing Komaeda to startle with a jump. The bathroom has this incredibly eerie vibe, one that doesn't mix well with the faint scent of urine and alcohol. It's unnervingly quiet save for the buzzing overhead lights, which somehow makes the room all the more overwhelming. The exact type of unclean bathroom you would find in a music venue.

Screwing up his nose, Komaeda does his best to ignore the smell as he heads toward the sink. He places his hand under the soap dispenser, pushing the button in with his palm. Nothing. He pushes it again, and again. Still nothing comes out.

"Just my luck, huh?" Murmuring to himself, he turns on the tap instead.

Fortunately, that seems to work just fine. He rinses his hands under the water, attempting to scrub thoroughly to make up for the lack of soap.

His thoughts creep in as he stares at his pale hands, freezing under the cool water. He's incredibly fortunate that Saionji didn't see what he'd done, but she will point the finger at him in a heartbeat if the broken device is brought up. In fact, he probably won't be able to get away with it now, but that doesn’t mean his plan was all for nothing.

A possible break in quarantine is worrying no matter what precautions were taken. Komaeda has come into contact with Saionji, and he has no doubts that her pride would keep her from saying anything until the time was right. After all, who would want to admit to getting help from a freak like himself? And with their virtual communications broken, distrust will begin to spread. The Ultimates will stop being able to work together and they will fall apart; even tear at each other.

But that’s fine. After all, it paves the road to a new hope, doesn't it?

Would someone murder out of fear? Spite? Would someone take advantage of the ill just to end the arguing? Is there even a chance a sick person would commit a murder? No, that's silly. None of them are in any state to do something so brutal.

He thinks back to the dead look in Hinata's eyes, the way he gripped Komaeda's heart so tightly. How quickly he had kissed him and taken his breath away.

Perhaps… there is a chance.

Komaeda turns off the tap and shakes his hands, reaching for the paper towel. Just as he grabs the tip of the roll, a thought stops him in his tracks; will Saionji even believe that he washed his hands? It’s probably best to leave them wet just in case she doesn't.

Holding his hands out awkwardly in front of him, he pushes the door open with his shoulder and leaves the bathroom.

When he emerges from the bathroom Saionji is nowhere to be found. He blinks, glancing around the building, before noticing the ajar door of the storage room from where she’d appeared earlier.

Ah, it would make sense for her to head there. He wanders over to the storage room, slowly inching the door open so as not to startle her, "Pardon the intrusion…"

"Ugh, finally!" a shrill voice snaps. "What took you so long?"

He steps inside, noticing Saionji standing on the other side of the room. "Sorry, I got a little lost in my thoughts, haha."

Saionji is posed in front of a full-length mirror, attempting to figure out how she was meant to tie her kimono. She seems close to giving up though, as it keeps slipping off her shoulders everytime she moves.

"Ew! Why are your hands still wet?!"

"Well…" Komaeda looks down at his hands, still dripping with water. "I wanted to prove to you that I had washed my hands."

"You're such a freak, you know that? At least dry them off or something." Saionji hisses, taking a step back as though she suspected he would do something childish like flick water at her.

Instead of doing that, Komaeda wipes his hands off on his jeans. "Sorry about that."

"Whatever," huffing, she twirls around on her toe to look at the mirror. "Just don't put your diseased hands on me, okay? Even if you did wash them, they could still be dirty."

"Mhm," nodding, Komaeda gestures towards her kimono. "Now, start by bringing the right side--"

"I know how to do that!!"

Squawking angrily, Saionji pulls the right side of the kimono around her body. She then wraps the left side over the top, wearing it as if it were a loose robe.

"A-ah… Saionji-san…" Komaeda reaches out to help her, before pulling his hands back. "You need to pull it tightly around your body. Snug, like a cocoon."

Her face flushes in embarrassment, "Are you patronising me?!"

He shakes his head. Saionji then tries again, pulling the curtains of fabric tightly around her body, enough so that the fabric does not drape around her ankles.

"Next you'll need to tie the koshi-himo around to hold it all together. Did you bring that with you?"

Holding her kimono together with one hand, Saionji points over to the chair in the middle of the room where numerous strips of fabric are draped over the back, all of them different in colour and texture. He reaches over, picking up a thin strip of white fabric before handing it to her. The fabric is carefully wrapped around the front of her waist, then crossed at the back and brought back around to the front. She then sucks in a breath, tying a quick knot in the middle.

"Ah. That’s not going to hold."

Stepping closer, Komaeda reaches out and threads his fingers into the knot. Saionji begins to object, only to bite her tongue and avert her eyes with a pout.

Once the knot is undone, Komaeda loosens the fabric a little to accommodate for any movement. Carefully, he then twists the two ends of fabric together, pulling them taught towards her left side. He tucks the loose ends into the koshi-himo, making sure it isn't going to come undone anytime soon.

"I'm surprised that the Ultimate Traditional Dancer can't even tie her own kimono," a smug grin creeps it's way up his face.

"Sh-Shut up!" Saionji yells, hitting him hard on the head with her fist. "Mahiru-nee always did it for me! It's just easier when somebody else does it!"

Her face is flushed a bright red. Komaeda chuckles quietly, rubbing at the spot on his head. It didn't hurt at all...

She tugs down the fabric of the front of her kimono until it is covering the belt, then pulls back the kimono neck until her chest is adequately covered. Komaeda pulls the bunching out of the back, flattening the bright orange fabric against her back.

“There’s still another belt-- are you sure you’re doing this right?” huffing, Saionji gestures to the other belt laid on the table. “Or were you just looking for an excuse to touch me like some kind of pedo?”

“Ah, that one goes just below your bust.” Picking up the date-jime, Komaeda holds it up against her chest. “It might be a little inappropriate for me to put it on… but I can show you how to.”

Saionji snatches it from his hands, blushing slightly as she winds it around her chest and then to her back.

Komaeda nods, “And back to the front again.”

Following his lead, she brings the strips around to her chest, attempting to tie a knot. Komaeda, predictably enough, has to lend a hand with tying, respectfully averting his eyes as he does so.

Not that there’s a whole lot to look at, anyway.

He shuffles it around to her right side, ensuring it sits snugly; “Can you breathe okay?”

Saionji nods, puffing out her cheeks in humiliation. A dry giggle escapes Komaeda, who works on smoothing out any bunching.

"That looks good," he smiles. "If you turn around then I can tie a bow with the obi for you."

As Saionji turns around, Komaeda picks up the green fabric from a nearby table. She stands in front of the mirror, lifting her arms as he brings it around her waist.

He never noticed before, but upon closer inspection Komaeda realises that the obi is patterned with numerous little cat faces. It's cute, a little too cute for a sadist like Saionji. But nevertheless, he ties a big pretty bow, pulling it tight against her back before straightening any creases from the fabric.

Despite the fact it seems done, there is still another piece of cream coloured fabric draped over the chair alongside the obi cord. Komaeda takes it into his hand, a little confused about where he may have gone wrong or where it was meant to go. Saionji looked perfect, done up neatly in her little kimono and geta. He wonders if this is how fathers feel when they send their daughters off to her first summer festival. Except…

“What, you don’t even know where that goes?” she mocks, sniggering behind her hand. “It goes over the top, you moron. Even I know that!”

Snatching it from his hand, Saionji begins to fold the piece of fabric. She folds it twice lengthwise before wrapping it around her waist, knotting it just above the obi. Once knotted, she tucks the knot under the obi, leaving the cream fabric just peeking out over the top. Seeing it now, Komaeda is shocked he didn’t realise, but what’s even more perplexing is the proud look on Saionji’s face as though she had just put the entire thing on by herself.

He passes her the cord to the obi, allowing her to put it on herself; because surely even Saionji can manage a simple bow knot. She smooths out any creases on her lap and stands straight, giving the boy a cheery smile as she brings her hands together in front of her.

“Thank you, Big brother! Even if you only did this for your gross perverted agenda, I appreciate it.”

Komaeda is a little thrown off by the nickname and averts his gaze. “Ah, of course. Anything a nobody like me can do to help an Ultimate such as yourself is truly an honour.”

“Ugh there you go again being creepy,” she huffs, striding past him towards the storage room’s entrance. “I don’t know why you feel the need to say annoying shit like that. What does it matter? We’re all Ultimates here, aren’t we?”

She pulls open the door, her wooden sandals thudding against the floor as she steps out of the room. As she begins to pull the door behind herself, her tone suddenly turns dark, smile gone from her face as though it had never existed to begin with.

“If you truly believe that you’re beneath all of us and deserve to be killed, why haven’t you done yourself in already?”

Chapter 7: Lunch Break

Summary:

My last complete chapter. I most likely won't write any more than this. But I like this chapter a lot and think of it often. I wasted all this time writing komahina when Ibuki was the most fun bitch ever. Devastating!

“Jesus, what the hell took you so long?” Kuzuryuu snaps.

Komaeda has barely stepped back into the waiting room and yet the yakuza is glaring at him as though he single handedly caused this disease. From his perch atop the counter with one leg crossed over the other, Kuzuryuu looks a lot bigger and scarier than he actually is. 

“Ah, I went for a walk, but came into some trouble. You see, I was headed towards the music venue-”

“Forget it, I don’t care,” Kuzuryuu grumbles, cutting him off. “Keep it to yourself, I don’t want to hear about whatever ridiculous bullshit incident with your luck made you take so long. You can make up for the wasted time by offering those guys some of the food Nanami dropped off whilst you were on your dandy lil’ fuckin’ stroll.”

Kuzuryuu gestures to a large tray sat atop a trolley, stacked high with different sandwiches, snacks, and drinks. It looks as though it would have been way too much for just one person to carry, especially someone as small as Nanami. 

"Monomi also came to apologise from the other side of the door," the gangster jumps down from his perch, "Not that I fuckin' listened to her. She can save her apologies for when we're all dead to this damn disease."

"Hm hm. Monomi is pathetically useless, having her on our side wouldn't be worth much anyway." Komaeda sneers, “The fact she’s working with Monokuma aside.”

“And to use Nanami as a cover like that,” Kuzuryuu grumbles, leaning across Komaeda’s shoulder to grab a ham, cheese, and tomato. “That conniving stuffed animal, I could have ripped her to shreds if Nanami didn’t give me that disappointed look. Like I’m grateful she brought us food and all but damn-! She’s such a hindrance!”

Komaeda nods in agreement, listening to Kuzuryuu ranting away. It’s true, Monomi is a painfully useless character, but there were at least a few occasions in which she came in handy. She’s easy to take advantage of and sees nearly everything that happens on the island, letting a lot more slip than Monokuma. 

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Kuzuryuu sits himself back atop his spot on the counter. He seems to like it up there, Komaeda makes a mental note of this. He trots over to the trolley, gazing at the pile of different sandwiches and snacks, seemingly raided from a random vending machine. Their diets have been diminishing in quality ever since Hanamura had tragically passed. He feels a pang in his chest.

“Is Tsumiki alright?” Komaeda breaks the silence.

“I checked in with her after you left, she’s keepin’ a real close eye on Hinata’s condition.” Kuzuryuu states, “He’s stabilised, just runnin’ a high fever.”

“I see…” Feeling his shoulders relax, Komaeda breathes a sigh of relief. “What about the girls?”

“Well Owari’s been crying, naturally. She was complaining she didn’t get much sleep last night because she was scared. Of what? I don’t fuckin’ know.” The gangster grumbles. “She doesn’t seem to be getting any worse, at least.”

He pauses to unwrap his sandwich, taking a chaste bite before continuing his synopsis. “Mioda’s fine, ‘could at least hold a conversation with her. She tried to follow me out of the room though, I’m startin’ to suspect she might be gettin’ clingy, like when you try to say goodbye to your old man but he just follows ya out the front door and keeps talkin'.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised Mioda would get lonely cooped up in a hospital room.” Komaeda laughs dryly.

"Mm. Hence why you should go and entertain her;" Kuzuryuu huffs. "I'm taking my lunch break."

"Of course, I won't taint any more of your free time with inane conversation." Komaeda smiles as he sets his palms against the trolley's push bar. 

Without another word, he begins to push the trolley down the hall, just barely catching a glimpse of Kuzuryuu scarfing down his sandwich as he exits the triage. The trolley's wheels rattle loudly as it moves, causing Komaeda to wince. He barely makes it a few metres before the trolley knocks into something blocking his path, something that hits the floor with a loud thud and a scream of terror. 

"Noo Komaeda-sama! Please don't run me over!" It shrieks. "I'm sorry I stole your jacket that one time and I'm sorry it looked better on me, I always knew you'd come after me one day but I never expected you'd run me down!" 

"Huh?"

Peeking around the trolley, Komaeda is met with a peculiar sight. Mioda lies sprawled out in front of the trolley as though she had been the victim of a car crash, her hair sticking in all directions and face filled with agony. She holds her ribs protectively as she chokes out her final words. 

"I-I never… learned how to play the bass…" 

And with that she wheezes her last breath and dies, laying limply on the floor as her eyes fall shut. It's a painful death, the Ultimate musician gone far too soon. But the good always die young, and without her musical talents the world will surely fall to despair. Her hope was truly a shining light on this island, and she will be deeply missed. 

"Mioda-san, I know that someone as lowly and uneducated as myself has no right to be lecturing the Ultimate musician…" Komaeda trails off, eyes fixated on the girl's corpse. "But I think it's pronounced 'beyse' ."

"SHIT!!!" She yells out, immediately springing back to life. "That must be right, how embarrassing that I would ever get it wrong in the first place?! My final words, gone to waste… I'm so sorry Komaeda-sama." 

Mioda slowly lifts herself from the floor, messy hair falling around her shoulders as she uses the trolley to support herself. She stumbles on her feet and her skin is incredibly pale, cheeks flushed a bright red. The little horns on her head seem to be drooping even, a clear indicator of the punk's declining health.

"Are you okay? Shouldn't you be in bed?" 

"Well, to tell you the truth…" she trails off, staring towards the floor with a gaze of uncertainty. "It’s been pretty boring doing nothing but sleeping all day. And it would trouble you if I did nothing but sleep all the time, so I was hoping that I might be able to help you with something..."

"But it seems like so far all I've done is get in the way!" She smiles sadly. "It’s better for me to be resting in bed where I'll be out of everyone's hair, right?"

“Well, I can’t say we couldn’t use more hands around here…” Komaeda mumbles. “But if you overwork yourself you’ll just end up even worse off than before, so I guess it is best if you rest.” 

“Aye aye Komaeda-sama!” Straightening herself up, Mioda makes a stiff salute. “I’ll head back to my room at once!”

“Ah, wait.”

Komaeda reaches out, grabbing ahold of her wrist as she goes to leave. She startles, turning back towards him with wide, scared eyes. He thinks that this might be the first time he’s seen her truly terrified, hands shaking as she makes no attempt to escape his grasp. Trapped like an animal in a cage.

“Did you want a sandwich?” says Komaeda nonchalantly. 

“I-If I'm allowed to, Komaeda-sama.” 

He lets go of her, instead reaching to grab a sandwich and a box of apple juice, “Anything else?”

“If it’s no trouble Komaeda-sama, may I also take that packet of choc chip jerky there?” Mioda points towards a brightly coloured red package stacked upon the trolley.

“Of course, just go ahead and sit down and I’ll bring them in for you, okay?”

Mioda bows deeply, wobbling a little on her feet when she stands back up and marches herself back into her room. Once she is out of sight Komaeda lets out a little sigh. Wandering around like that, it seems as though Mioda is going to be troublesome as well. It must be scary though, having no control over your words and actions like that, forced to walk around in a daze all day.

“Will I be like that?” he asks the empty hall. 

That fearful look in Mioda’s eyes, a silent beg for help. At this point he's getting used to people looking at him with such fear, like he's a murderer. It's not like she's wrong to be scared. With that in mind, Komaeda bundles up her food in one arm and grabs a bottle of bright purple sports drink with the other. 

He brings the food into the room with him, spying Mioda settling herself back into the hospital bed. She smiles expectantly like a little kid sitting down for a picnic; something much too wholesome for Komaeda to be thinking of in the middle of a killing game. 

He puts the food down on the end of the bed, just close enough for Mioda to reach. She stares like an expectant dog, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth.

“T-That’s for you, Mioda-san…” Komaeda mumbles, “You can eat it.”

Mioda reaches for the sandwich, holding it in her shaky hands. She hastily unwraps it, taking a massive bite as soon as Komaeda gives her a nod of permission. The first half disappears quickly, she must have been starving...

"Kmmaeba-smma," Mioda begins with a mouthful of sandwich, reaching for the second half. "If it's appropriate for me to ask this, I wanted to know if you've ever considered which instrument you'd play in my band before?" 

Struck with shock, Komaeda stares at her with his mouth agape. "Huh, your band? Why would you want someone like me to join your band?" 

"Weeeell, I can't guarantee you'd get along with anyone, but the most iconic bands are the ones constantly having feuds right?!" She cackles, taking another ravenous bite from her sandwich. "Having someone as crazy as you would make for some wicked drama and ballistic music!!"

"I guess that makes sense," he laughs dryly, "I don't think I'd ever be able to fit in in a group like that."

"Well, if you say so sir!" 

Komaeda presses his fingers to his lips in thought. "Though, I did take piano lessons growing up. Not that I think piano really fits in a rock band…" 

"You could always hit the keyboard, if that's more your thing!" Mioda grins. "Ooooh!" she suddenly screams loud enough to startle Komaeda, "I can totally see you rockin' a keytar! Electric blue hair, sexy lip piercing, every show would turn into an absolute bitchfest with all the chicks trying to get at you!!"

"Haha, I'm not so sure how I'd feel about that…" a wide smile stretches across Komaeda's face as he runs a thumb across his bottom lip. "A lip piercing sounds like a liability, knowing my luck it would be ripped out before I even left the store."

"Naw! Just don't pick any fights and nobody will get the chance to do that!" Grinning ear to ear, Mioda gives the most mundane advice he had ever heard in his life. "Heheh, well… for you that might be easier said than done. 

"I can't disagree with you there." He laughs. 

With Mioda all set up with her food, Komaeda figures he should probably not spend too much time on her. After all, his own stomach is eating away at itself and he hasn't even brought Owari her lunch yet. 

He hovers awkwardly towards the corner, "Well, make sure to rest up once you're done eating, okay? I gotta go check on Owari." 

"Yessir!"

Just as Komaeda is stepping out the door, the sound of Mioda's voice brings him back. "You know…"

"Hm?"

"Koizumi-sama was right, you do make a great housewife. If only you loved me enough to make a bowl of chicken soup for me, I wouldn't have had to divorce you and take the kids!" She looks down with a sigh, the heavy burdens of being a single mother weighing on her shoulders. 

"I'm sorry Mioda-san…" Komaeda grips his chest tightly, shirt bunching beneath his fingers. "I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. In the meantime, I'll settle for longing gazes on the weekends when I get custody…" 

The musician looks back up with tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. "Go! Go before I can change my mind!" 

With those final words, Komaeda storms out of the room dramatically, closing it a little too forcefully behind him. He lets out a melodramatic sigh, not quite willing to give up the act just yet. 

Mioda seemed to be having fun. She didn't hesitate to eat and despite her weariness, she still has the energy to hold her brilliant smile. She must be feeling better already, but surely a disease can't be cured with just bedrest and an IV. 

After all, it doesn't seem Hinata's condition is getting any better. 

He’s so fickle about treating it, too. Of course he's right to be, as it would be a shame to come out the other side of a motive having learned nothing about their circumstances. A conclusion like that can't really be drawn so soon either, since he still hasn't checked in on Owari's condition. If the cries are anything to go by, there hasn't been much improvement on that front.

With an egg salad sandwich in one hand and a bottle of orange juice in the other, he wanders further down the hall before carefully pushing open the door to the third hospital room with his hip. Quiet sounds of snivelling and sobbing suddenly go hush quiet as he steps into the room.

Komaeda glances over to the hospital bed, spying Owari's cowering form. Her hands shake as she uses them to cover her mouth, eyes wide and shiny. “G-Ghost…” She stutters out.

“Hm?”

Owari’s hands drop from her face as she desperately shuffles back on the bed, determined to distance herself from whatever she was so scared of. She cried out in terror, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, “A-A T-T-TALKING GHOST!!”

Confused, Komaeda does another glance around the room. It dawns on him that either there’s something she’s seeing that he isn’t, or - “Me?”

She nods, sniffling loudly. “P-Please don’t hurt me…!”

“It’s just me, Komaeda Nagito.”

“...”

“Your classmate…”

“...”

“You called me a [insert funny thing she called him or mean thing she said about him]”

She immediately relaxes, breathing a loud sigh of relief. “Damn, you're so pale and skinny I-I assumed you must be dead…” She flashes a smile, which immediately falls, “W-Wait, isn’t this worse?” She begins to shake, “A-Are you coming to k-kill me too? P-Please, I’m afraid of dying!!”

She’s already worked herself up into hysterics again before Komaeda can get another word in. So much for coming to help her, all he's managed to do is make her crying even worse. 

Resigning to his own uselessness, he picks up a sandwich loaded with pulled pork. Owari flinches as he extends it towards her, dewey eyes staring at him as though she's expecting him to beat her to death with it. 

"It wouldn't be fair of me to kill you in such a pathetic state. How pointless would that be? The trial would be over in seconds!" Komaeda laughs, "I'm not stupid enough to think I have a chance against the Ultimate Gymnast, anyway." 

It's not true, but it seems to calm Owari down a little. She takes the sandwich from his hands, staring at it as though she's unsure what to do with it. It's a miracle it's managed to survive this long near her. 

"You haven't eaten since yesterday, right? You'll feel better if you do," As he says this, Komaeda extends the bottle of juice towards her. "If you go too long without eating, you'll lose your sexy figure. I'm sure Hinata-kun would be devastated."

Thwip! Within seconds the bottle has been snatched from his hands as Owari devours her sandwich. No matter how sick she is, her heart cannot lie. 

"Haha, you should slow down…" Komaeda mutters all too late. 

She's already too far gone to heed his warning. Within seconds the sandwich has disappeared, the juice crushed down along with it. There's a few moments where Owari seems satisfied with her efforts, before she bursts back into tears as though nothing happened. 

“I’m scared, Where’s coach Nidai?!” She holds a firm grip on her hospital gown as she sobs loudly. 

Threading his fingers into his hair, Komaeda stares at her blankly. It's like some kind of sick joke, and he's very quickly becoming tired of it. Well, it is a sick joke, every part of this scenario is a joke. 

It seems it's time to throw in the towel. It's not even worth trying to give her some semblance of hope. With an exasperated sigh, he shuffles towards the door, twisting the knob quickly as though trying to escape before she can notice. 

"Wait! Don't leave me alone…" Owari cries, reaching out towards him. "Please… tell me where the Coach is?" 

Komaeda looks back towards her. Her eyes are sad, scared, desperate. Her hair sticks to her cheeks, cleavage exposed as her gown hangs loosely from her shoulders. 

"He's out training. He'll be back later, okay?" 

Owari swallows, then nods. Giving her a weak smile, Komaeda slips out of the room and into the hallway. 

The tension eases from the shoulders the second he's out of the room, accompanied by a deep sigh. He should have expected trying to console Owari would be a fruitless and exhausting venture and yet he tried anyway. 

It's fine, at least it's over now, he's only got one more meal to deliver. 

He looks at the last sandwich sitting on the cart. One left for Hinata. Just his luck. Grabbing it as well as a bottle of water, he heads back towards the middle room. As he reaches for the handle, his stomach churns, forcing him to freeze in place as he bites back a nauseous feeling. 

As if waiting for that cue, the handle turns itself. Komaeda steps back, the door narrowly missing his nose as it swings wide open. Tsumiki, still firmly grasping the door handle, slowly looks up at him. She startles, letting out an incredibly high-pitched scream. 

"K-K-Komaeda-san!" She squeals, clutching her chest. "D-D-D-D-Don't scare me like that!" 

"Ahah, I'm very sorry about that," giving her a soft smile, Komaeda holds up the goods. "Is Hinata awake? I figured I'd bring around lunch." 

He attempts to peer around Tsumiki, only to have her hands waving in front of his gaze. "I-I'm so sorry, but he's r-resting right now…" She stammers.

"Oh, I see… would you mind if I left these here for him?" Komaeda asks. 

Tsumiki hums, rocking on her heels and staring towards the floor. "Weeeell, he's rejected a-any food that I've offered him so far… b-but I can take them into his room, for you."

As she takes the sandwich and drink from his hands, Komaeda attempts to force back the memories of their earlier altercation. "Is he doing better?" 

"H-Hinata-san's very tired. His condition is stable, b-but he hasn't w-woken up yet…" She mumbles the last part of the sentence. 

"Oh…" Narrowing his eyes, Komaeda watches the way Tsumiki fiddles with something in her pocket. "Thank you for watching over him so carefully." 

She nods, biting her lip as she retreats back into his room. The door delicately closes behind her, leaving Komaeda alone in the empty hall again. There's a tight feeling of dread in his chest. 

Before he can act on that feeling, a small hand grabs his shoulder. "Leave her be, Hinata will be okay." 

"I know." Responding curtly, Komaeda turns around to look down at his classmate. "He wouldn't die from a disease like this, I can't imagine that would be entertaining to Monokuma."

"Yeah, butcha were starin' at that door like you were plannin' to ask for its lunch money." Kuzuryuu  crosses his arms, a doubtful glare in his eye. "Never mind, did you manage to get the others to eat?" 

He looks down the hall towards the empty cart, a singular drink left perched atop it. "Everyone except for Hinata," Komaeda answers. 

He walks up to it, grabbing the last drink off the trolley before extending it toward Kuzuryuu. "Here, you didn't get one earlier, right? You need it more than someone like myself does." 

Eyes darting down to the bottle of milk in Komaeda's hand, Kuzuryuu 's brow furrows. "The fuck’s that s'posed to mean?" 

"Oh, you know-" 

The gangster cuts him off, "Because I'm fuckin' short?" 

"Well…" With a shrug of his shoulders, Komaeda grins, "Am I wrong?" 

"YOU FUCKIN' BASTARD!! I'LL KILL YOU!!" 

Notes:

Thanks for catching up with me... Reading this back I realise I really knew nothing about rock bands. Unfortunately I'm now in love with the lead singer/guitarist of one. Fuck a lip ring, an eyebrow piercing is where it's at.

Notes:

Thankyou for reading! This was just a fun alternative I wanted to explore. Yes, I started the fic pre-covid. And yes, I avoided as much reference to that as possible.