Chapter Text
Hope is a worldly expression of all things preferred and desirable. An unstoppable force of motion, never settling within more than several moments, whether seconds, minutes, weeks, months or years. It breeds greatness into the world through those who are capable of wielding it, it nets ecstasy and clarity to even those hardly worthy of it. Even when the ilk of despair is the only thing on the horizon, it's a mere matter of expediting a collision to clear the way for the greater force.
Talented people are hopeful people. Akin to individual messiahs in a sense, those who are gifted are the ones to make this world better, stronger. They're touched by hope, showing others that there is more on the horizon. Movers and shakers, innovators; they're able to create what was never thought possible, break the boundaries of what could even be considered human, to revolutionize preconceived theorems and methods to completely overhaul the current understanding in their fields.
Komaeda Nagito is a baleful figment among those ranks, an indigestible swill of a person just barely considered anything of the sort. He's unworthy of the presence of greatness he ambles around, unremarkable in any field other than his luck. His sole purpose to justify his ill-begotten position is to observe and make himself a proper stepping stool for those who truly, truly deserve their place in the hallowed halls of Hope's Peak Academy.
He follows at a distance the person exalted above even those talented.
The Ultimate Hope, Kamukura Izuru
The name, the title, it begets shivers down his spine. The man moves with grace, beauty, and perfection. Kamukura does not walk, he glides, his steps nigh imperceptible to anyone who were blind, never reaching the ears. They're swift and effortless, yet never does the man ever even appear in a rush.
In normal circumstances. In ordinary circumstances, Kamukura is never ever outwardly affected by petty, worldly occurrences. When Souda-san was unfortunately affected by his luck and was thrown into Kamukura’s direction, he merely caught him and set him down in such swift fashion it was awe-inspiring to Komaeda. The Ultimate Hope, instantly overcoming the despair of an Ultimate as promising as Souda meeting a grizzly fate on the pavement after a collision all Nagito’s doing. Even when Saionji had tampered with Hanamura’s soup, leaving them all heated and suddenly in the center of their heat cycles, Kamukura was unaffected, leaving the situation despite his rut billowing over the others.
No, no.
While not exuding a fearful atmosphere, there was an unease that seemed to rack the Ultimate among Ultimates on this day. He was expedient across the courtyard, once he'd left the hallowed halls of Hope’s Peak. Nagito had made the initial assumption that perhaps he'd an issue outside the bounds of the campus however he was baffled as he saw the Ultimate Hope make his way across to the building that festered and necrotized with the parasitic, purposeless division that solely made their way into the glorious campus with their wealth and no other skill or usefulness.
Only a collection of pocketbooks lightened by greedy, spoiled children, such ilk raised by egotistical, foolish adults who waste their money on a prestige not belonging to either group, a group below even Nagito's stained figure, fecal matter on the name of Hope's Peak. They were all only slightly above cowshit on the bottom of stalks of those meant to be there, beneficial to the institution to an extent with their tuition but rotting and burning the roots of the students, falsely cheapening the value of those who truly deserve their place by making the rarity of their graduation grow smaller. The alumni of the institution diluted by the volume of murky water that should not have contaminated the halls at all.
The least they could possibly do is keep separate from the pure Ultimates, the very least.
So why exactly was Nagito entering the sickening halls, in a half run after the most perfect among them who was a touch below running himself?
The filthy stared at them in awe and amazement and shock and Nagito's skin crawled as they lacked even the decency to prostrate themselves before even the one truly deserving.
Disgusting, pathetic, unworthy, profane, discourteous, contemptible ilk.
Still, Nagito kept his face stony, not wanting to share a smile with those who didn't even deserve to see one on his own face, as ghastly and sallow as it may be, much less look upon the Ultimate Hope in the flesh with nothing but fruitless, unworthy murmurs tumbling from filthy lips. It would not even suit him to scowl in their presence so he kept following Kamukura's ascent up the stairways, down the hall into a white double door left slightly ajar, even if his chest ached and his throat tasted sour with the effort he was unused to.
The mere fact the door did not fully close surely warranted Nagito's concern. His own luck was not a strong enough force to even begin to alter that of Kamakura's which could only mean that Kamukura was surely out of sorts, but whatever could-
“Icchan, I told you you don't have to.”
“Show me.”
“Icchan, you should go be with your friends.”
…
What…?
Such… such insolence!
Speaking to Kamukura in such a way, making demands of him, speaking to him too familiarly.
Using such a childish, informal moniker for someone so far above your station!
Nagito stared at them, unable to see the fool speaking like that properly, though able to see the reserve course jacket on the chair.
He felt ill.
How could…
“Icchan, I'm okay so you should just- Izuru!”
Nagito stewed, rage slowly mounting at the insolence. He heard a rustling of fabric and he stifled a gasp as he saw Kamukura shoved away by the lowborn scum, finally revealing…
An irritated, reddened face. Choppy brunette hair that just barely hung below his ears. Green eyes that were narrowed with his annoyance . Skin darker, tanned from outside labour, though the revealed skin of his torso showed him to be hardly lighter than his face.
That portion that was unmarred by bruising, that is.
“Izuru, I've told you, we aren't ten anymore, if I were anyone else, you would-”
“Who.”
A heavy sigh. His face partially hidden by his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.
“No. Go back to your dorm. I'm more than capable of fending for myself.”
“Niichan, please .”
Nagito's heart froze in his chest at the near-whimpered words.
W-what…?
Kamukura's older brother's face softened and he gestured for Kamakura to sit on the edge of the bed. He gently took the Ultimate Hope’s cheeks in his grasp and pressed their foreheads together.
“It's okay… Don't worry about me, okay? I'm really handling it. It's surface level, no soft tissue damage so it's going to heal up fine! I'm going through appropriate channels most of the time, I just got a little, heh, carried away. He looks worse than me. Don't do anything stupid and just listen to big brother. I've never steered you wrong, have I?”
…
…
…?
Nagito felt hazy, soft. The hard lines of hate smoothed out.
“... You're not that much older. Only fifteen minutes.”
“Mhm. Niichan will make you kusamochi, so don't fuss, okay? You're getting along well with your friends, right?”
“They aren't my friends.”
The elder twin pulled back and Nagito felt a bit more able to think. The man frowned before raising his hand and flicking Kamakura on the forehead, who flinched slightly.
“Make them your friends. Don't be cagey.”
“They're boring.”
“No, they aren't, you're being lazy. Stop analyzing them and start interacting with them. See, there's one right outside, he's worried for you- Hey, you can come in now!”
Nagito startled and he could just barely notice Kamukura whipping his head towards him.
H-How…?
“C'mon, don't be so slow, don't make me look dumb, man!”
And so, clumsily, Nagito found himself prostrating before Kamukura and apologizing for presuming he was within his right to be a voyeur to his personal life.
“- Someone like me should never be so bold as to meddle in Ultimate Hope's affairs- ow!”
Nagito's head rose from the floor and he rubbed the back of his cranium. Above him, Kamukura's older brother's scowl was deep.
“Don't talk like that, Izuru deserves friends, not worshipers. I'm counting on you to look out for him so don't make me look dumb, got it!?”
Nagito gawked at the glare level down at him, somehow feeling like a bug beneath someone who should be inconsequential, and against his better judgment, words tumbled from his lips.
“My apologies, Kamukura-san.”
“It's Hinata.”
Nagito flustered and even if he longed to tell this man that he should be grateful to be presumed to hold the same surname as Kamukura, he bowed his head slightly.
“My apologies, Hinata-san.”
Hinata gave a smile and a nod.
“Thank you. Could you please make sure Izuru goes back to his dorm? I need to get back to my classroom.”
“Okay.”
..
…
….
As he walked beside greatness incarnate, Nagito found himself unable to focus, to give the moment of undeserved time within the most high Ultimate the due appreciation, his mind caught in a moment already past. Kamukura nodded to him as he entered his dorm room.
… Nagito decided that Hinata was the most presumptuous of them all.