Chapter Text
Subject: Hope’s Peak Academy, Class 77 (“Remnants of Despair”)
Upon arriving to the mainland from the Jabberwock Island facility, subjects were taken into immediate custody by the Future Foundation.
Though the Neo World Program ultimately succeeded in reversing the subjects’ brainwashing—its initial goal—there were many unanticipated side effects, mostly due to [CLASSIFIED]. All subjects showed signs of post-traumatic stress in varying degrees, especially those who [CLASSIFIED]. In addition, due to what has been dubbed “Kamukura Fusion”, the subjects’ digital avatars have fused with their physical bodies, only partially reversing the intense self-mutilation many of the subjects performed while under Enoshima’s influence. For these subjects, physical therapy is required as well.
The “Remnants of Despair’s” true identities are considered classified by the Japanese government. This information is restricted to Future Foundation faculty and a select few trusted third parties. It seems counterproductive to expect these subjects to become fully rehabilitated while completely cut off from the outside world, much less while being intensely monitored “24-by-7” by both the Future Foundation and the Japanese government. However, according to the reports submitted thus far, an 80% rehabilitation rate can be expected within one year of treatment.
Objectively, per the Japanese government, the subjects’ crimes are punishable by a significant prison sentence and/or death, as is typically the case for domestic terrorism on this level. However, Makoto Naegi from the Future Foundation is in the process of negotiating with government officials on lessening the sentence, given the unusual circumstances.
“Good morning, everyone. I’d first like to say that on behalf of all of us here at the Tanaka Research Center… thank you for your continued support. We are incredibly grateful for all your donations—funds as well as supplies—, and it is because of you that we managed to continue our work, even through…”
A pause.
“We are safe. The entire country has been rebuilding, and…”
A sigh.
“I can’t believe it’s over. These last several years have been… They’ve been absolutely painful. I won’t lie to you. It’s taken all of my strength to move forward each and every day, having to watch the Tragedy unfold and spread as it has. But this place was always intended to be a safe haven, and by God, I intend to keep it that way. Even if I have to pay with my life, I will protect our family, friends, and staff.”
Another pause.
“They attempted to get in more than once. They… But our facility has world-class security, so thankfully, none of the attempts were successful. Still, I’ve been on edge. I keep worrying they’ll come back. That…”
Another pause.
“Nothing new to report. But we are safe. We are still safe, and we are very, very grateful for everything you’ve done. My only wish is that he was here to see… how much his… how much his work meant to you all.”
Naomi Tanaka quickly tapped the space bar on her computer, and the webcam’s indicator light faded. She took slow, deep breaths, trying to ward off the oncoming flow of tears; she’d done more than enough crying on camera for one lifetime.
The brief update video was not the best she’d ever done, nor the most coherent. Still, Naomi hoped it would be more than enough for their editor to work with. There was only so much she was able to post online, even after the Tragedy ended and the country gradually recovered, since so much of it was still classified. Her contact at the Future Foundation hadn’t updated her in a while (not even about…), so she figured it was better to err on the side of caution when it came to online updates.
They were fine. The facility was fine. Everyone was fine. That was all anyone outside of Japan needed to know.
Naomi closed the laptop as she rose to her feet and stretched. The small, cozy farmhouse was deserted, save for her and her own animal collection: the old and lazy Tosa, Gabriel, staring curiously at her from the couch across the room, and Choco, a long-haired dachshund she’d adopted from an American friend soon after Touya had left for Hope’s Peak.
Touya…
A shrill buzz drew Naomi from her thoughts, and her eyes immediately darted toward the source of the noise: a sleek, black flip phone that looked out of place in the otherwise rustic house. The caller ID read “Private Number”, which could only mean one thing.
“Tanaka Center, Naomi speaking.”
“Ms. Tanaka,” the voice on the other line greeted. “A pleasure speaking with you again.”
“Any news?”
“Yes. We’ve received the go-ahead to disclose some new information.”
“Okay.” She sat on the couch next to Gabriel, who barely moved an inch to accommodate her. Choco, seizing the opportunity, jumped into her lap. “When should I expect the write-up?”
“Actually, it’s about Gundham.”
Naomi’s heart skipped several beats. “Gundham? Is he okay? What’s going on? What happened?”
“He’s fine. He’s been recovering well.”
Naomi leaned back and uttered a silent prayer of thanks before asking, “When can I talk to him?”
“Within the next few days, hopefully. Maybe within the next few weeks, at worst. We’re… not authorized to give you the full details of what happened, but he’s… he’s been through a lot. But we wanted to let you know that he is alive. And for the most part, he’s fine.”