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Mahiru was going to kill him.
And that wasn’t a phrase she ever wanted to be uttered ever again after waking up from that nightmare, but really, this was her last straw.
But she had to be better than her anger, didn’t she? Otherwise, who would take care of the remnants? Some of whom still had lingering despair nestled deep within them like rot and decay, as if the very foundation of their being would creak and collapse under the pressure of recovery.
The world needs them to get well; they're a liability and a threat after all – one small misstep would plunge them straight back into despair.
And this time, the Future Foundation won't smile kindly upon them. Not that they ever truly did to begin with.
Mahiru’s unfailing intuition always told her that Hajime was anything but a simple man, even after finding out the worst of the Kamukura Project. It was hard to miss the permanent look of exhaustion on his face or the way his eyes would glaze over as he’d stare into the distance when he thought no one was looking. Frankly, it looked like he would do his best to do anything and everything for his classmates, even at the cost of his own health.
As the thought stewed in her head a little longer, Mahiru realised that she might not have been as angry as she initially thought. But she still wanted—no, deserved answers.
The weight of her camera around her neck feels heavier than usual, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say that it was just like the time some brave soul tried to strangle her with her own camera strap as she taunted him with photos of the corpse behind them. Her hand reaches up to touch the burn marks around her neck, but she realises that she wouldn’t be able to feel very much anyway with all the flesh wounds littered everywhere on her hands. She’d have to wait to recover, and somehow that thought made her throat close up in fear.
She takes in a few steady breaths, in and out, trying not to choke on the humid island air that was thick with the smell of vegetation, rust, rot, and brine. After the third breath or so, eyes glued to her scarred hands as she counted each one, she heard the sound of quiet footsteps against the concrete.
The quick but silent footsteps come to a stop, “Hey! Sorry I’m late—”
“What the hell is your problem? You think this is some kind of joke?” Her gaze shoots up, purposefully channelling the anger she felt earlier this morning when she caught sight of her lost camera now returned with a neatly scribbled orange sticky note and a new picture.
“Look, I just got caught up with Komaeda’s appointment, and I—”
“I’m not talking about that; I’m talking about this!” She interrupts for the second time, eyes piercing and shoulders tense as her gaze flickered down to her camera. Mahiru quickly hits the power button and turns the camera towards Hajime.
It shows a slightly blurry picture, as if it wasn’t taken with the proper focus and time, but its contents can be seen, nonetheless. The entire class bar Hajime is at the diner, five squeezed into seats meant for three as they clamour over party trays filled with snacks. The only person that stood out like a sore thumb was Mahiru herself; back to the camera and a worried look peeking out from her side profile, gaze over the countertop searching and desperate.
Hajime pulls away, a half-guilty-half-neutral expression on his face that was no doubt thanks to Izuru, but it only served to frustrate Mahiru even further.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Mahiru snaps, lips a thin line as she lets her powered-off camera rest against her, arms crossed as she watches Hajime flounder and internally debate what exactly he wanted to say.
With a deep breath, he finally lets the words spill from him, “I’m… sorry for violating your privacy, and for using your camera without your permission,” Hajime says, “…But I’m not sorry for taking that picture.
And that, Mahiru thought, was truly her final straw. Anger boiled over as she dug crescents into her palm, mouth feeling dry as she felt it fester within her.
“How dare you?! I… I lose my camera, the one thing I have left of my mother, and you think you have the right to use it and tamper with it? Who do you think you are? Some kind of saviour trying to rewrite the past?”
Hajime, despite how easily he tears up usually, managed to hold his ground this time and patiently listened. He finally speaks, putting forward the single question that had been sitting on the forefront of his mind, “…Do you think she’d be happy with what you have saved on that?”
Mahiru knows what’s happening – she knows that she, too, isn’t immune to despair. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be. Maybe all she wants is to disappear – but she can’t do that, because she has responsibilities. She has to stay, even if it’s the last thing that she wants at times.
“Do you think I’m proud? Huh? W-What do you want me to do?!” Mahiru yells at him, a mere foot or two away from his schooled yet somewhat grief-stricken expression, and Mahiru’s beginning to think that it isn’t Izuru, it’s always been Hajime all along. Guilt cleaves through her, and the blurry vision turns clear once the tears start to flow uncontrollably. She breaks out into a wet sob, shrinking away into herself and unable to meet the other’s eyes, “I can’t… I can’t delete these pictures. I never will. Deleting them is like saying they never happened, and I—”
Mahiru chokes, gasping for air through her tears, “Hinata, all those dead bodies… the families they belong to…” She clutches onto his shoulders with a desperation he’s never seen in her before, “They’ll want to know, and I’m… the only one who knows.”
Hajime stays quiet as the sobs eventually settle slightly, like the beginning of a light drizzle after a storm. He carefully takes her hands, catching the way she jolts at the contact because no one, not even Hiyoko, had ever touched her hands before because she’d never let anyone. No one deserved to bear any more of her troubles or fight her battles for her; not after what happened to Sato.
For whatever reason, she doesn’t fight it today. Her gaze goes from her hands littered in proud flesh scars to Hajime’s eyes, and anything she might’ve wanted to say dies on her lips when she catches the startlingly genuine and empathetic look in his eyes.
“You don’t have to get rid of them, you know.”
Mahiru’s breath stutters.
“Huh…?”
“You don’t have to delete them, just… make new memories.” Hajime’s voice is quiet, as steady as his hands are consistently warm, “We all have our burdens to bear, and while it’s not fair to pretend we never did anything, we can’t exactly go on constantly cursing ourselves, right? At least, that’s what I figure.”
Mahiru looks up at Hajime, finding nothing more than a kind smile on his face. Up close, she can almost see just how deep his own trenches run through his eyes alone. One red and one gold-green… there wasn’t a single being on the planet that could do such a thing if they didn’t hate themselves to begin with – especially before the age of despair itself.
She can’t begin to fathom just how hard he’s pushed himself to stand upright before her like this, supporting her like this. Mahiru can only hope and wish that she can do the same for him when the time comes.
Mentally, she says a small ‘screw it’ and slides her hands out of Hajime’s warm clasp, catching the small flinch before it was replaced with a jolt as she threw her arms around him, locking his arms at his side in her grip.
Hajime sighs contentedly, carefully yet somewhat awkwardly wrapping his arms around her waist, “…I’m no saviour either, you know.” He continues to speak soothingly, “I’m just a friend. I’m your friend. I’ve seen you on the brink of despair, looking at those photos with that terrified look in your eye and I…”
He pauses, contemplating his next words.
“I don’t want to see you fall again.”
Mahiru sniffles, burying her face against his shoulder and leaving a wet patch from her runny eyes, “I’m sorry Hinata, I’m… so sorry. I should’ve tried harder to—”
“You try more than enough. You do more than enough.” He interjects, lightly bumping his head with the side of her own, deep red flooding his vision, “It’s time for you to rest.”
The two of them stay like that for a few more moments, holding each other under the blazing island sun with not a lick of shade. It was just right; it was just the comfort they both needed, right here and right now.
She really thought she simply couldn’t take photographs anymore, not when her past stared her in the face every time she tried to. For a while, she feared that she lost her talent - that she lost a part of her that tied her down to humanity. But every time she looked at Hajime, and what he’d done for her, all she realised was that she was just a coward. Afraid to heal. Afraid to step into the future.
And so, she’d try.
Hajime was the first to pull back, gently unwinding his arms from her and chuckling at the patch of wetness on his collar, looking back at Mahiru to catch the apologetic look on her face. He shrugs, knowing damn well that the sun would dry it up in mere seconds.
After a beat of silence, he finally speaks again.
“You know, I never considered that maybe I might’ve just wanted to test your camera for my talent? I might not be a saviour but perhaps I’m just the better photographer?” Hajime jokes, a playful grin on his face that stayed steady despite the way Mahiru kicked his ankle while fighting back a smile, scrubbing away the remainder of her tear tracks with the heel of her palms.
“Not by a long shot.”
Hajime paused, a stupid grin on his face that Mahiru absolutely dreaded.
“…Huh. Good pun, actually.”
“Ugh, get help. That wasn’t supposed to—”
Her huffy reply was suddenly interrupted by the likes of Ibuki barrelling into Hajime from behind. Mahiru jumps back in alarm, hands instantly reaching for her camera as the two attempt to untangle themselves.
Or at least, one of the two attempted to untangle, while the other simply enjoyed her free human mattress. “Gooood afternoon-ing, Hajime-chan! How’s my favouritest freak in the world, after Ibuki herself, that is!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine, get off of me!” Hajime groans, gasping for air as he pathetically tries to wiggle out of her grasp, “Ugh, why are you so heavy!?”
“Grow a spine, Hinata.” Mahiru playfully scoffs and rolls her eyes as she scolds him, discreetly setting the camera down before either of them notice, “Anyway, you kids have fun, I’m gonna get going since I have to meet up with Sonia!” She announced cheekily while waving, turning away from the scene with confident strides and more levity in her heart than she’s felt in ages. And if she heard the sound of whining protests and betrayed yells calling after her as she left, she could just pretend it was the wind.
Mahiru pushes past the towering gate of the hotel, a cool breeze sweeping across the island and filling her lungs with fresh air. She picks up her camera again, eyes set on the screen in front of her with a wide smile – a genuine smile.
It wasn’t a perfect picture, not even close. The composition is a mess, the exposure is a tad bit too much, and it’s ever so slightly unfocused; but the sight of those two play-fighting pathetically against the floor with unrestrained joy and annoyance mixed into their expressions made up for it tenfold. To her, it was perfect. To her, it was the start of a new beginning.
Mahiru smiles fondly as she sets her gaze forward again, feeling both gratitude and love well up inside her for her friend, for the second time in her life.
“You can’t one-up me that easily, Hajime Hinata.”