I've fallen into a rabbit hole that has only gotten deeper. Let me walk you through the step-by-step way that my obsession with this idea progressed:

Step 1: Hajime contracts Despair Disease instead of Nagito
Step 2: the Despair Disease causes Hajime to act like / become Izuru Kamukura
Step 3: Hajime becomes Izuru Kamukura because he contracts some rift on "Talent Disease" because it fits perfectly with the canon idea that "Despair Disease gives them the opposite personality" seeing as Hajime was a Reserve Course student.

So, as enamoured with the idea as I am, I thought I'd indulge myself—and hopefully some of you—with my own shot at writing it out. I just love it so much.

And it'd bring me much joy if you could enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!


think ill of my talents

Day 4
Morning

The sweat is the first sign of something abnormal—and one that Hajime Hinata notices immediately.

The feeling of dampness, his shirt clinging to his chest, his shorts caked to his legs, cuts through his drowsiness. And it strikes him as odd. His body has gotten used to the tropical climate in the days since they've arrived. The air conditioning should have been on. He went to bed last night, T-shirt and shorts donned, with nothing amiss.

And woke up to his face flushed and feeling like his blood was warming under his skin.

His addled brain weakly recalls hearing Monokuma's morning announcement. Peeling himself from the bed, Hajime sits up. The room tilts slightly. Maybe I slept with too much blanket on, he thinks, grimacing.

The cold rush of the water splashing against his face helps. Hajime pulls his regular clothes on. The others would worry if he missed breakfast, and if he was being honest, he was itching for some company after what happened last night at the beach. Both hope and dread blossom in his chest, and he forces himself to believe that Nekomaru is alive and well as he makes his way out of his cottage, past the pool, and into the hotel lobby.

The air conditioning must be off here too. His face feels warm. Hajime pulls at the front of his dress shirt, vying for a bit of cool air. At least the room isn't spinning and he's not soaked in sweat like he was when he woke.

I'm fine. I'm steady, he thinks.

Focusing on himself, he misses the sobs, the blubbering from above.

Hajime exhales a warm puff of air and walks up the stairs from the hotel lobby to the restaurant.

-/-

"If you've also lost your mind," Hiyoko begins, "I will throw my zori at you. I will squash you like a dirty, little, insignificant bug."

Hajime is less taken aback by her hostile good morning than he is at the disaster in front of him. He doesn't respond, not when his confusion at seeing Akane bawling like a child steals all words from his throat. At seeing Nagito, calmly facing the sobbing girl with his back to him. And Ibuki, smiling at it all.

Either at the sound of his footsteps or wondering who Hiyoko was greeting, Nagito turns. "Oh, Hajime," he says with a cheery smile and his hand raised in greeting. "It's a beautiful sunny morning, isn't it?"

The scene of strong-willed, daring Akane bawling her eyes out juxtaposed with Nagito's nonchalant behaviour is boggling to say the least.

"What… what is going on here, Nagito?"

"Well," Nagito replies, glancing at Akane over his shoulder, "I'm not quite sure myself. A complete 180 in personality is abnormal, to say the least."

"You know you're the one person who doesn't get to say that after what you pulled in the first trial, right?"

The corners of Nagito's mouth turn up as he walks closer to Akane. "The one thing I've been able to discern from this—" Nagito places his hand against Akane's forehead. The brunette doesn't respond nor do anything to stifle her sobs. "—is that she has a fever. Quite high, at that. Isn't that right, Mikan?"

"Y-yes!" says Mikan, popping up from behind Ibuki. "I believe their fevers are the most likely explanation for both of their behaviours."

He doesn't like the sound of that. Not the mention of a fever, nor…

"I don't like those plurals you're using, Mikan..."

"A-aah! Uhm, well… Ibuki…"

"Ibuki," Nagito interjects, raising his voice to be heard over Akane's sobs. "That isn't Hajime Hinata. That is a replacement designed by Monokuma. Hajime flew one of the airport planes out."

Mikan shrieks, evidently displeased at Nagito's actions. Hajime expects disagreement, but Ibuki merely smiles. "A replacement! Hajime has left the island! I understand!"

"H-huh?" Hajime looks at the easy smile plastered on Ibuki's face before turning to Nagito—still smiling—and Mikan—still looking crossed between wanting to help and being unfortunately helpless. He looks back at the musician. Ibuki tilts her head slightly at him with a polite smile and vacant eyes.

He looks away. "So she… she just believes everything you tell her?"

"Precisely."

"I… was so shocked," blurts Mikan. "When I came in for breakfast, I said she should eat or else she'll become skin and bones, and—" Mikan's hands suddenly fly to her face. Hajime doesn't have to think hard to imagine how Ibuki took that statement.

"I just wanted her to get the proper nutrients..." she mumbles before seemingly remembering the boys again. "A-ah!" Mikan puts her palm against Ibuki's forehead.

"A fever," she affirms.

Hajime frowns.

"There's absolutely no way a high fever accounts for a change in behaviour this drastic."

"I thought the same," muses Nagito. "It's been four days since the last trial. It's not hard to imagine that there's something more sinister behind this."

"Sinister?"

Monokuma appears beside Hiyoko, startling the short girl as she scrambles towards the few others. "You hurt me with your cruel words! Or maybe it's a compliment?" The bear laughs maniacally. "Regardless, I decided that you guys were in dire need of some entertainment!"

"So it is your doing…" Nagito says thoughtfully.

"Your classmates are on their way! The explanation will follow shortly after."

Frantic footsteps rush up the stairs. Within moments, anxious and questioning faces fill the restaurant. Hinata steps back, leaning against the railing guarding the stairs that lead to the ground floor. With more bodies in the restaurant, it feels like the air has warmed, and the morning sun has no difficulty shining through the wall-tall glass windows and doors leading outside.

The room is bright and warm. He shuts his eyes.

"Alright! I know it's been a bit too peaceful since you've arrived on the third island, so I've decided to give you all your next motive!"

"Peaceful?" Kazuichi says, aghast. "Are we ignoring what happened last night?"

"That was an appetizer, and it might not even be a murder." Monokuma waves his hand dismissively. "Your actions are the main course! You're supposed to be killing each other! Lucky for you, the Despair Disease is a most wonderful and effective motive!"

Hajime zones out as the stuffed animal goes on about unseeable insects and unique symptoms, but he perks up at the mention of a high fever. It doesn't take a genius to speculate and the connection draws itself given this new context. His heart sinks even further as Monokuma continues:

"Who knows what despair those three are already feeling? Puhuhu, I'm almost jealous of them." Monokuma hugs himself, shaking in apparent excitement. He turns away.

"Wait," Chiaki says, hand splayed out in a stop motion. "Three?"

"A bear doesn't lie." The bear spins around and gives the girl a salute.

Not a word is spoken as the remaining students draw their own connections. Hajime meets several pairs of worried-filled eyes.

"Good grief. Do you really have time to stand around here?" laments Monokuma. He puts his hand on his hips and shakes his head. "At this rate, you wouldn't even see a murderer standing right in front of you, about to do you in."

The bear's red eye glows a menacing scarlet and a wicked grin spreads across his face. "There's another infected! So you better hurry it up unless you're looking to spread the fun!" Monokuma chortles, laughing heartily as he vanishes.

For a moment, no one speaks.

The students share a myriad of expressions ranging from shock to determination, but Hajime notices the common emotion in everyone's eyes: worry. As the—albeit self-proclaimed—most informed person in the room, he takes it upon himself to swallow the lump in his throat and answer the question on everyone's minds.

"It... might be me," he volunteers.

The pairs of eyes weigh heavily on him but the guilt of potentially being a danger to his friends is heavier than anything else. "I don't feel anything as drastic as those two," Hajime elaborates, gesturing vaguely at Akane's blubbering and Ibuki's easy smile. "But I woke up with something resembling a high fever."

"T-that's certainly peculiar!" Mikan says. "Seeing as no one has gotten sick since we've arrived!"

"Truly no strange symptoms at all?" continues Sonia before Kazuichi turns to her, whispering about how she should take a cautious step away for safety's sake.

Indeed, the few people nearest to him take a tentative step back, acting in stark contrast to Nagito who takes a step forward.

The white-haired boy's eyes shine. "Wow, I didn't notice a single difference when you arrived today! You continue to be different from the rest, Hajime. All this buildup surely must foreshadow how special you are as an Ultimate!"

Hajime ignores him. So does Chiaki, stepping in front of the Ultimate Lucky Student, eyes focused on Hajime. "Hajime, can we take your temperature?"

He nods. Chiaki turns to Mikan.

"I'm sorry!" Mikan says with a frantic edge in her voice. "I don't have a thermometer on me right now, but..." Mikan lifts a hand tentatively. "If I may, Hajime?"

Hajime nods again and Mikan walks over to place her hand against his forehead. The contact is brief as she pulls back suddenly.

"W-Why didn't you say anything if you were feeling this bad?"

"It's not too bad," he murmurs. "I'm conscious, aren't I?"

"That is not the threshold for bad you should be using," Gundham says gruffly from the wall, "unless you've decided to purchase an early ticket for the Netherworld."

A thoughtful expression crosses Chiaki's face. "Has anyone else felt any fever symptoms?" Chiaki calls, receiving shakes of heads no in return. "At least the fact that it's a high fever means we can say more definitively who has the disease." She gives Hajime a sympathetic look as she continues. "Mild won't cut it."

Kazuichi looks at him both worried and with a look that says he wouldn't willingly go near him in any circumstance. The distance he and the others are keeping from him betrays that much. "Any tears?" Hajime shakes his head.

"How do you feel about the idea of being a replacement designed by Monokuma?" Nagito asks, receiving Hajime's best withering stare in response.

Fuyuhiko scoffs, joining the circle of people surrounding Hajime at a distance and folding his arms. "Well, the bastard's certainly acting normal."

"My head hurts," Hajime replies, feeling the fog roll in like a familiar friend.

"The fact that you're telling us that actually proves my case."

The conversation is split by a wail from Akane. Fuyuhiko winces. So does everyone else.

"Aah, well… There are multiple patients that really need to be treated… C-Can we bring them all to the hospital?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Mikan," Sonia replies. Hajime feels a push from someone behind him, prodding him forward.

The walk to the third island is more treacherous than Hajime remembers. The tropical weather is unrelenting. Nature doesn't care whether you're sick or not. His feet drag on the ground.

Cool relief replaces the feverish warmth in his veins once they reach the hospital lobby. The hospital can be haunted for all he cares; at least it has air conditioning. Hajime sinks into one of the waiting room chairs as Mikan gathers Ibuki and Akane by the arms with promises to get them settled and for the rest to wait here on her lips, a request that Hajime has no qualms satisfying. The usually uncomfortable fake leather seat is a pillow after the trek, taking away some of the pressure on his aching limbs.

Chiaki sends him a sympathetic smile. "Hanging in there?"

"Hanging in there," he says, wiping his brow. "It's just… so hot."

"I'll get you some water," Sonia says, moving to the water cooler.

He accepts the paper cup from her graciously as the others start to converse. They've evidently lumped Hajime into the patient category so he sits out and listens, paying attention but secretly thankful for the rest. His classmates discuss isolating the patients in the hospital with others staying at the motel to be nearby. The discussion turns to the helping hands that Mikan will need. He's mildly surprised when Fuyuhiko decides to stay and help.

"It's not like I was meant to be here," Fuyuhiko says simply. "This time was loaned to me."

Hajime feels a sudden pang of sympathy for what Fuyuhiko's gone through recently. The loss and self-reflection that must have come afterwards must have been difficult and lonely.

"I'll offer up my services as well," Nagito says, smiling. "I touched both Akane and Ibuki to take their temperatures before everyone else arrived."

Everyone turns to look at Nagito and the cheery look on his face.

"Why the hell do you sound so happy about that?" Fuyuhiko says. "You better not be planning on getting and spreading the disease yourself."

Nagito chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. "I would never, Fuyuhiko. I'm just pleased that the bad luck of being exposed to the sickness has actually put someone as worthless as me in the perfect position to lend a hand."

Gundham eyes him critically. "This fiend… We shall have to watch him carefully lest he be chaos incarnate himself."

Fuyuhiko's face scrunches. "Whatever. I'll wring your neck before you even cough."

"I assure you, that won't be necessary," Nagito replies smoothly, smiling easily in the face of the threat. "Though I won't mind if you change your mind later on."

"Regardless, we have a plan now. Three patients, three caretakers, and five in the motel," Chiaki reaffirms. "Good luck, guys."

"We'll be in touch soon, definitely!" Kazuichi announces.

Chiaki, Gundham, Kazuichi, Sonia, and Hiyoko exit the hospital. Departing, they narrowly miss the footsteps tapping against the tiled floor, slowly getting louder until—

Mikan pushes through the hallway door. "They've finally finished changing!" She glances around and her expression morphs into shock. "W-where did everyone go?"

Fuyuhiko starts, "Well, Mikan…"

"Oh!" Mikan says, perking up. "They left to grab get well soon gifts, didn't they?" The nurse clasps her hands together and beams. "I'm so happy everyone is so thoughtful towards their friends…"

"No, well, you see…"

Nagito chuckles. "No, Mikan, they're not coming back."

"W-what?"

"They've decided that it's in their best interests to stay away from us."

Mikan visibly recoils in shock. "W-w-what?"

Fuyuhiko stares at him incredulously. "Jesus. Look, I'm no expert at this interaction thing, but you're even worse."

"It's no matter. Everyone knows the gist of what we're doing. Now onto more important matters…" Nagito says, triumph lining his tone. He sticks his right hand in front of him, palm facing the ground.

There's a brief pause as no one moves. Fuyuhiko looks between Nagito's eyes, the strange joy dancing in them, and his outstretched hand that he makes no effort in moving. "...What the hell's your problem now?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's a hand pile," the white-haired boy replies. "You know, like baseball players before a game or something." Mikan tilts her head and Fuyuhiko doesn't reply. "We're going to have to work together for the foreseeable future, so let's put our hands together and start our teamwork off strong!"

"Huh? This is a hospital. There is supposedly a contagious disease floating around, not to mention that one of us could be a walking carrier," says Fuyuhiko, lifting his chin at Hajime. "And you want us to put our hands together."

Nagito's smile widens. He doesn't move his hand.

"W-well," Mikan says. "We're going to be in each other's company anyway."

She puts her hand on top of Nagito's.

"Hajime, you hearin' this shit?"

"Team…" Hajime mutters to himself, feeling the word ring a bell inside his mind. A feverish fog creeps into his head, muddling his thoughts.

Fuyuhiko groans. "Oh no, he's lost it too. The hospital side doesn't stand a chance."

The pink-clad girl giggles. "There's hand sanitizer on the receptionist counter right now. And I can find you a pair of gloves right afterwards," she soothes.

"Come on, Fuyuhiko," Nagito coos, copying Mikan's tone. "I'm sorry, I know it's impertinent for trash like me to consider myself an equal teammate to you three, but we've got to get along."

Hajime's brain continues calculating. For a moment, the fog dissipates.

"I'll step out, of course. I'm not going to willingly endanger you guys when I'm probably the third patient," is what he says, but his brain tells a different story: a fun work environment improves efficiency, so fostering a good mood is a great way to bolster productivity—

"You're just grasping at an excuse not to join hands with these nutcases."

His thoughts melt away in his mind. "I'm not saying you're wrong," Hajime replies. He gestures to Nagito's and Mikan's waiting hands. "Well?"

"Alright, fine, dammit!" Fuyuhiko throws his hands up. "But if one of us contracts this damn disease tonight, I will personally suggest that they murder Nagito."

"I'm sure Monokuma is listening and overjoyed to hear that," Hajime says as Fuyuhiko's hand covers Mikan's.

"Three, two, one… to teamwork!" Nagito cheers, lifting his hand at the end of the countdown. Mikan follows suit, laughter on her face, whereas Fuyuhiko raises his hand but quickly pulls away, gruffly shoving his hands back into his suit's pockets. Though he appears annoyed, Hajime catches the smile playing at his lips once Nagito turns to Mikan.

He observes their expressions. Nagito's, calm as ever, a portrait of ease. Mikan's, the laughter on her face overshadowing the tension that was there when she hurriedly rushed the patients to their rooms. Fuyuhiko's, the boy acting cross, but there's a gleam in his eyes that betrays his actions and reveals his amusement.

The fog in his brain is gone. Yeah, as a team manager, this was the best thing to do for morale, he concludes.

The moment ends as Mikan's eyes widen. "Oh, I-I should check on Ibuki and Akane! And we need to take Hajime to his room."

Hajime frowns and Mikan giggles as if she has read his mind. "You might not be incapacitated in the same way Ibuki or Akane are, but you still have a high fever! You need to recover, and we need to keep the spread of the disease to a minimum for our safety too."

"Consider it your civic duty to stay in bed and do nothing," Nagito adds.

"Alright. I'll concede to that."

Mikan smiles happily at him. "U-uhm, I think I should be the one to check on the patients. Someone should see what the state of the second floor is like. And someone should go with Hajime to make sure he gets to his room safely…"

"Safely?" Fuyuhiko raises his eyebrows. "I can see his room from here."

"Y-yes, but we shouldn't let a patient go on their own! Plus, I haven't seen all the patient rooms. Someone should make sure that it's safe for him to stay there. And you could… organize it?"

Hajime nods. "Doing inventory would be useful." Although the convenience store and pharmacy are conveniently stocked, knowing what they have on hand to treat the patients with could only help them make a swift recovery, both from this Despair Disease and from the awful situation they find themselves in through Monokuma's interference.

"I'll take the second floor," Nagito says.

"Then you already know what we're doing," Fuyuhiko says, turning to Hajime.

They drop Mikan off at Ibuki's and soon enough Fuyuhiko and Hajime make their way to the third patient room. The room is dark until Fuyuhiko walks across the room and pulls the curtains open. Though the light makes the gray room less gloomy, the atmosphere leaves the impression that it hasn't been occupied in a while. Hajime sees medicine and medical equipment sprawled across the counter.

"Time for inventory," Hajime says.

Fuyuhiko's brow furrows as Hajime picks up the first item—a scalpel—and sets it on an empty stainless steel tray on the counter. "Oh hell no. You're going straight to bed before you cough on all those things."

"I'm not even in a hospital gown yet." He sets aside a jar of tongue depressors. "Besides, I'd feel awful if I let you guys do all the work while I'm still capable of helping," he continues. The feeling of being useless while surrounded by his talented classmates makes his stomach knot for some reason. Hajime eyes the instruments suspiciously. "Mikan's definitely going to have to sanitize these things later anyway. Who knows where they came from."

There's a faint but sudden crash of a door being flung open and colliding with the hospital wall. In the distance, Mikan wails, "Wait, Ibuki, nooo...! I meant this room, not your cottage!"

The boys look at each other.

"If it stops you from wandering out of your room," Fuyuhiko says, "then fine. But just that counter."

Hajime laughs as he returns to organizing the tools.

"You really feeling okay?" Fuyuhiko pauses in arranging cleaning supplies on a cart to gesture at Hajime from head to toe. "You still look like hell."

"Really? I thought high fevers were the biggest trend around here." There's a thin layer of sweat on his back and he can imagine the sheen glowing on his face. "Besides feeling abnormally hot when you all seem fine," replies Hajime, throwing him a wry smile over his shoulder, "Nothing."

Hajime places several vials of a clear liquid that looks oddly familiar on a tray before Fuyuhiko scoffs. "I don't know whether to be relieved that you're not psychotic or worried that you're showing no symptoms. Maybe you are just nursing a high fever." Finished with the cart, Fuyuhiko pushes it to the side. "Fat chance though."

"Nursing…" the word lingers on his tongue. A familiar taste.

He grabs a needle, the last of the items to put on the tray in front of him, and feels like he's held many before as well. Knows how to locate the injection site, to clean the area with an alcohol swab, to hold the needle like a dart—

Footsteps ring across the linoleum floor as the Ultimate Yakuza walks over, his eyes trained on his face. Hajime doesn't move.

"Dammit, your eyes are unfocused," the yakuza mutters. "To hell with that tray. I'm going to grab you that hospital gown." He flings open the closet. "Why the hell isn't there one in this room? Wait here. Put that needle down and go sit on the fuckin' bed."

The clap that Fuyuhiko gives on his shoulder jolts Hajime out of his reverie. "Ah—thanks."

Hajime moves and Fuyuhiko jolts. "Watch where you point that damn thing," he huffs, pointing to the needle still in his hand.

The smaller boy walks out and Hajime does what he says: he stares at the needle as the door clicks shut.

-/-

Hajime's fever worsens throughout the evening.

He spends all of it in his hospital bed, hating every warm sheet, every ray of sunlight filtering through the windows to torment him before the sun sets. He has Mikan pull the curtains on his windows when she comes in to deliver him dinner, and she leaves him with promises to nurse him back to full health and a bottle of pills.

Nagito catches him awake at some point and updates him on the communication system between the hospital and motel group—Kazuichi has put his Ultimate talent to good use. He also tells him about the other two patients: truthfully, Akane and Ibuki are doing no better than he is.

Hajime doesn't need Nagito to tell him that. He hazily recalls waking up earlier to Akane's wailing and another time to Fuyuhiko yelling "Dammit, no one use another idiom with Ibuki!" followed by footsteps pounding past his door.

In and out of it, the evening passes as Hajime sleeps.

-/-

Day 4
Nighttime

The window shows nothing but darkness the next time Hajime wakes up.

His head is groggy and his body is warm. Disorientation clouds his mind. For some reason, he gets the sense of warm summer nights, being out in the dark. He thinks of fireworks and yukatas on the beach before a headache rips through his thoughts and he only thinks of pain.

Monokuma wasn't kidding about the high fever, he thinks distractedly. What did Mikan say about the medication? He looks at his bedside tray, squinting to focus on the bottle of pills left there. Ibuprofen. 400 mg.Something I could take if I woke up and was feeling awful.

His current state certainly qualifies as such. His brain burns and rambles on—non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug, it was acetaminophen last time, cyclooxygenase antagonist—as he reaches for the drug. Once it's in his hand, he starts to sit up when a shiver racks through his body and he drops the bottle. It crashes on the floor and rolls under his bed.

Great, he thinks.

There's another bottle on the counter. Hajime straightens his slouch, takes a breath to steady himself, and reaches for it. Suddenly, his head feels like lead. A fog creeps in, clouding his head and obscuring his vision. He smacks the bottle and it goes rolling across the room.

Hajime sighs. "What rotten luck," he mutters beneath his breath.

There's no helping it. He removes the blanket, wincing at the loss of comfortable warmth even if he has an excess amount, and stands up, hand on the bed rail. He walks languidly towards the bottle. One foot in front of the other.

The door creaks open."What are you doing up, hmm?" says Nagito.

"I'm getting the ibuprofen I knocked over," Hajime responds as he reaches the bottle and crouches down.

"How clumsy of you."

Bottle in his hand, Hajime closes his leaden eyes and exhales. Once steady, he stands up and turns the bottle around, examining the label, the printed information.

"Do you need help walki—"

"Hold on," Hajime says, one arm moving to hand him the bottle and the other moving to grip the counter as the heavy feeling in his head returns. "Read this for me? I think it's expired... Severely expired?"

"Interesting. How late?"

Hajime raises his arm to offer Nagito the bottle once more. The other boy takes it and looks at the date printed on the bottom. Hajime swears he blanches slightly, if only a little.

"Wow. I'm surprised Mikan missed this. Though I do suppose she's quite exhausted after today," Nagito promptly pockets it. "I'll give this to her to properly dispose of later."

"To think I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't dropped it."

"That is most certainly a blessing in disguise."

"Ah, well… I guess I can look for another one."

Nagito opens his mouth, "Ah, allow me, Hajime. You sho—" but Hajime has already turned to the first cabinet on his right. He opens the doors to see the entire shelf lined with identical bottles of ibuprofen.

Perfectly stocked.

Nagito walks over and grabs one of the bottles, examining it. There's a brief moment before at last he says, "It's not expired at least."

"How lucky," Hajime breathes before stumbling.

The white-haired boy manages to catch him even with the bottle in his hand. Slowly, he walks Hajime, the boy breathing heavily, back to the bed. Once he's seated, Nagito examines the bottle again. A strange look crosses his face.

A stroke of what seems to be bad luck followed by some good fortune that blows it out of the water.

"I hope you cited what you just did because I've never seen more blatant plagiarism of my talent," says Nagito.

"And so it is, Nagito!" Monokuma chuckles, appearing from the floor. "Move over, there's a new Ultimate Lucky Student on the island!"

Hajime looks at the bear, puzzled, because what does he mean new, we've both been here all day, whereas Nagito crosses his arms, giving Monokuma a thoughtful stare. "Is that so?"

"The hell's going on in he—shit!" Fuyuhiko says, opening the door before seeing Monokuma and stopping. "Oh no. Fuck no. Should I get Mikan? No, no, she's currently doing a round of the other two and she just settled into a workflow—"

"We'll fill her in later," answers Nagito as he opens the bottle of ibuprofen and drops two white pills into Hajime's hand. "Just come in."

The door clicks shut behind the yakuza. "Alright boys," Monokuma says, "I'm sure it's no surprise that Hajime is the third lucky person afflicted with the Despair Disease! In particular, our resident amnesiac has the Talent Disease!"

"Talent?" Fuyuhiko asks. "What do you mean, talent?" He gives Nagito a glance. "What the fuck's he been doing?"

"I—" Hajime starts. The fog in his brain sweeps in and out like waves. He looks at the other boys in the room, feeling nothing but confusion and headache. "I'm the Ultimate Team Manager, aren't I? And the Ultimate Nurse?" he asks hesitantly. "And of course, I have good luck too..."

Fuyuhiko blinks before groaning. "This is a nightmare."

"They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," sighs Nagito, lightly placing a hand over his heart, "and I didn't know you felt that way, Hajime."

"So there you have it! You better move fast if you want to tell Mikan."

"Move fast?"

Monokuma grumbles. "Does no one read the notices these days? Teenagers. So disobedient. So out of touch." He points at them as accusingly as a stuffed animal can. "Lobby. On the whiteboard. Ignorance is not an excuse for your actions, and I'll lead the firing squad myself if you break the rules!"

The bear disappears.

"Knowing him, that's not an empty threat," Fuyuhiko says. "We better go read that notice."

"The nightly transmission is right about now anyway. The motel group is probably already on the way to the music venue."

Nagito turns and leaves the room.

Hajime doesn't watch him go. "What happened to my long hair?" he breathes, words barely more than a whisper.

"You're delusional," Fuyuhiko says. "Go to sleep before I tell Nagito that the disease made you remember your talent and you deliberately kept it from him."

Fuyuhiko moves to follow Nagito out but stops before opening the door.

"...We don't know how to cure this Despair Disease," says Fuyuhiko finally. "Killing is the only cure? That's bullshit and none of us are gonna just accept that. The other two are way crazier than you, so you're the best hope we have for someone overcoming the disease on their own."

"You sound like Nagito," Hajime mumbles, falling back on his bed with a poof.

"Get some sleep before you take me to court." The suit-clad boy opens the door. "Good night, Hajime."

Hajime doesn't say good night nor goodbye, head lost in the warm fog.

-/-

That night, he dreams of a vaguely familiar classroom, of noise like poison. His mind screams, Leave me alone, but he can't do anything to prevent the voices from reaching him.

Each word spoken hurts. The words etch away at his being, his wish to be confident, until he feels like his identity has been lost.

...Who am I?

-/-

Day 5
Daytime

"Hajime!"

He awakes with a sharp gasp. The hot hand lightly but frantically rustling his arm stops.

"I-I..." Mikan stutters before bursting into tears. "...I'm soooo glad! I came to do a morning round of the patients and found you tossing and turning. I couldn't even rouse you…! You looked like you were in so much pain…"

Hajime wishes he could turn her volume down just a smidge. But at least her animated nature grounds him in reality, distracting him from the nightmare he was facing.

He looks at Mikan. This is what's truly real.

Hajime smiles wryly. "Thank you for waking me up then." While he's happy to be awake, he also notices the tension on the nurse's face. "It must be hard to nurse three people at once, but I'm depending on you and you're doing great."

Mikan visibly brightens at his words. "No problem! That's why I'm here."

She hands him a thermometer to take his temperature and he forces himself to relax as he places it under his tongue. When he hands it back, Mikan's eyes widen.

"39.2°C… That's awful, Hajime."

"Should a nurse really be telling their patient that?"

Mikan giggles. "I'm sure you would've drawn the same conclusion, but if you'd prefer a less forward bedside manner, let me know."

She stands, giving her nurse's apron a quick dusting as she does. "I'll go check on the other two now. Nagito and Fuyuhiko should be here soon if you need anything!"

Suddenly, his heart rate speeds prospect of being alone with only his thoughts is too much. Without conversation to fill the silence, Hajime is sure that poisonous words would creep their way into his mind once more.

He's just a normal guy who can be found anywhe—

"Would you mind if I walked around?" he says quickly. His voice sounds more strangled than he would like, and Mikan surely notices it, but Hajime gives her his best impression of a smile. "I just can't relax in hospitals."

The uncertainty on Mikan's face is easy to read. "We have to quarantine you, unfortunately…" she says sadly. "Y-You can't leave. And I don't recommend that someone as sick as you walk around."

His heart thunders in his chest. "Please," he says thickly. "I don't have to leave the hospital. Even just down the hall is fine."

"Well… I also shouldn't leave you agitated… or alone..." Mikan purses her lips before her expression clears and she turns to him. "How about…. you come with me as I finish my rounds? We can check on Akane together. But if and only if you can walk."

Mikan makes him walk a straight line across the room twice and then drink a cup of water before she relents. Hajime doesn't mind, eager to have something to do. He'd walk figure-eights or drink another two if it meant he could leave those toxic whispers behind. Once the nurse is satisfied, she opens the door for him.

"After you," Mikan says with kind eyes and her lips turned up in a timid smile. "We're only going a room over but let me know if you're feeling unwell so I can help you back here."

He shuffles to the door. As they leave, someone pushes the hallway door open. Fuyuhiko looks at Hajime and Mikan.

"What, you're walking out and about?" Fuyuhiko calls from the far end of the corridor. "What's got you in such a hurry to get out of bed?"

Normal.

The impulsive thought threatens to buckle his legs, but Hajime swallows and speaks past it.

"Gotta maintain my agility. I'm the Ultimate Gymnast after all. And the Ultimate Traditional Dancer."

"I can't tell if you're making a joke or dead serious."

"Why would I joke about my talents?"

"Nevermind," Fuyuhiko says flatly. "I can, and I wish you were joking."

"I don't," Nagito says as he pushes through the hallway door. "This is a remarkable thing for Hajime to possess. Having so many talents… a magnet for hope. A beacon. A—"

Hajime doesn't register the rest of the boy's words. He frowns. The idea of having so many talents has always felt familiar, but this time it feels like a different far-off bell is ringing in his head. The chime is still familiar, but…

The thought is wiped clean from his mind, turning it into a blank state.

...

Mikan's voice registers next.

"P-please follow, Hajime. I need to check—"

"—on the others, right," he finishes tautly. Hajime steps in front of her, causing the girl to scramble backwards, and promptly pushes open the door to Akane's room. A whimper escapes into the hallway.

"Ah, please wait! Don't push yourself, please!"

Mikan rushes to follow him and misses the confused glance the other two boys give each other.

The door clicks shut behind her.

For some reason, Hajime can think and see clearly now. Akane's going to be no better than she was last night. There's no reason to expect that sleep would have cured her if it didn't cure him or Ibuki, and if the latter had been healed, Mikan would have surely let them know already.

Hajime anticipates the way Akane turns her head to them when they open the door, the whimper that leaves her lips, and the way the sound immediately summons Mikan to her side. He side-steps out of her path fluidly as she scrambles to be at Akane's bedside, producing a handkerchief from her pocket and gently patting away the girl's tears.

There's no fear in his mind anymore. There are no unknowns he can be afraid of.

"Hajime?" Mikan says.

He slinks back to his room. Back in bed, he can't hear through the door what anyone's saying.

But he knows exactly what to expect.

How boring.

-/-

It's evening now.

The day passes uneventfully and it bores Hajime greatly. At one point, he was opening all the cupboards in his room, much to Fuyuhiko's shock when he opened the door with lunch. He can still hear Mikan's shrieks—still see Fuyuhiko's wince at the volume—to get back to bed rest, wailing about the dangers of overexertion. Nagito chimes in from the hallway with "Oh, overexertion must be something you're familiar with, Mikan" which prompts Fuyuhiko to leave Hajime's room, remind her that the boys are there to help, and demand that she get some rest in the on-call room.

Currently, it's Nagito who sits beside his bed. He's the latest one appointed to check up on him. And also the latest one to tell him off for examining the medical instruments on the counter.

"With how eager you seem to be to get up and about, it feels like you're recovering," Nagito remarks.

Hajime examines his expression, gauging how Nagito feels about that statement.

"Are you wondering about what Fuyuhiko said yesterday?" Nagito asks. "Now now, I wouldn't actually try to catch the disease! It would have been silly for me to join the motel group being as exposed as I was." Nagito shoots Hajime an all-too-reassuring smile that doesn't change a single impression he has of the boy. "Besides, it would be quite drastic if I were to get sick too. I wouldn't want to burden poor Mikan even more."

Hajime thinks about how busy she is with Ibuki and Akane and himself. He thinks some more too.

"So that's how it is," says Hajime.

"Hmm?" asks Nagito, his quizzical expression flawless but still not enough to fool the boy sitting in the hospital bed. It only takes a moment for Hajime to decide that engaging in an intellectual conversation would be more worthwhile than letting Nagito continue to feign ignorance.

"Why do you believe it would be such a drastic change? If the three infected don't convince you, Monokuma said it himself: unique symptoms. You can't predict what sort of Despair Disease you'll get. And to paraphrase your own words, even my symptoms seem to be getting better so to speak." Hajime's voice is flat. "Your reason must be something external to the Despair Disease itself. Something concrete that wouldn't mesh well with being sick at all."

If Nagito is surprised, it doesn't show on his face. "My, my, Hajime. You've always been quick-witted, but maybe not so on the offensive." He shrugs, unconcerned. "For something concrete, what you're alluding to sounds awfully vague. I'm afraid I won't get it unless you spell it out for me."

"And I have no idea it might be specifically," Hajime replies.

The word stalemate hangs in the air.

The amusement is clear in Nagito's eyes although Hajime definitely does not share the sentiment. "I'll get you a glass of water," he says.

Nagito leaves while preaching cheerily about the importance of staying hydrated and spewing warnings of don't overdo yourself, Hajime! as he goes.

Then he's alone.

The next time the door opens, it's precisely three minutes and forty-two seconds after the door closes after Nagito, and it brings Mikan with a cup of water in her hand. Of course it's her. No one's footsteps are as light, and by rotation standards, she's the next one up.

"Hello," she greets. "I intercepted this from Nagito as I was coming down the stairs."

She walks to his bedside and places the glass down on the tray. "You seem… tired? You're acting more unresponsive than you were earlier." Once she's seated on the stool next to his bed, she takes an ice pack out of her apron pocket. Mikan smiles weakly as she extends it to him. "Maybe I shouldn't have let you out earlier, but hopefully it eased your anxiety just a little."

He doesn't reply.

Mikan doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes linger on his before she sets the ice pack down. "Get some rest, Hajime."

Hajime looks at the girl smiling her goodbyes. Her eyes are tired, slightly hollow. Her skin is slightly paler. It's not hard to imagine that Ibuki, Akane, and even him with his high fever were causing collective trouble for her throughout the past two days and one night. That she hasn't had the luxury of sleeping or eating as well as her body is used to.

He nods his response and she leaves.

-/-

Day 5
Nighttime

The curtain of night has been drawn across the sky and the muffled voices outside his door match that feeling of quietness. Those hushed tones are discussing him, undoubtedly. Despite knowing who, he turns to meet their eyes as they walk into the room.

"You're somehow recovering from your fever, but your personality is getting stranger."

Hajime stares blankly at Fuyuhiko. Both Fuyuhiko and Nagito are standing in his hospital room, the yakuza's eyes staring back, almost demanding, while the white-haired boy stands farther back, arms crossed, gazing at him with interest.

He could explain that he's actually not recovering from his fever—his forehead is still as hot as ever—he's just getting better at accounting for it.

Ultimate Analyst.

Being able to tell how exactly his condition is worsening. How it drags his limbs, lowers the amount of exertion he can endure until he breaks. He can understand his body—except it isn't really his right now, it's Hajime Hinata's—and understand exactly how much he could and should be doing. He could explain. But he's certain that, after examining the confusion already lining Fuyuhiko's eyes and the interest deep inside Nagito's, the questions would follow.

Fuyuhiko would initially show aggravation. "How the hell does someone simply account for their symptoms? That's not how the body works," he would retort.

And Nagito would pry. "What do you mean, Hajime?" he'd ask. Hajime can visualize it now: the step forward he'd take, the gleam of excitement in his eyes as Nagito tries to figure out the puzzle in front of him, looking for connections to his supposedly hidden talent.

He can see the scenario already, so why go through it?

Hajime stares.

"So cold, Hajime," Nagito whines, and Hajime doesn't react because he knew this response was coming as well.

"Does your Talent Disease make it so that you can withstand his creepy behaviour without flinching?" Fuyuhiko points to his companion. "Because then, damn, Monokuma was right. That is talented."

"While I can see why you might say that about certain things I have done," Nagito says, "I don't think my comment about Hajime's lack of emotion falls under that category."

"No, it doesn't," Fuyuhiko concedes. "But the way you're looking at him like the world's most interesting lab rat definitely is."

"No, no, no. Most certainly not a lab rat. If anyone was such a lowly creature, it definitely wouldn't be Hajime whose abundance of talents make him the most suited to create such a strong, outstanding hop—"

"Am I allowed to leave this room?" Hajime asks.

The two stop quarrelling and look at him.

"Mikan would be against it," Fuyuhiko says. "Hell, I'm against letting an empty husk roam free, too."

Nagito looks thoughtful. "He's been getting steadily better all day though… Maybe some physical activity and fresh air would do him some good?"

"Why do I think that you want to let him loose?" Fuyuhiko points to the glass pane beside his bed. "Prop that open and let him stare out the window."

"Ask Mikan for her opinion," Hajime says.

The boys look at him again. Nagito sighs. "If you insist. Where is she?"

"Probably Akane's room. She was crying up a storm earlier because she was too scared to eat dinner. Mikan was going to give her an IV for nutrients and dehydration."

"Duly noted."

Nagito leaves. In his absence, there's no discussion.

"Geez, your blank stare gives me the creeps," Fuyuhiko says when the silence gets too much and he's had enough of examining Hajime's expression. "If having a talent does this to you, then maybe we should be glad you don't remember your talent."

"These are my talents."

Fuyuhiko levels him with a hard stare as if daring him to say that again.

"You think ill of them," he says simply. "You shouldn't."

Nagito returns at that moment. As the door closes behind him, he leans back against it. "She gave it the all-clear."

"No fuckin' way."

"She did," repeats Nagito, crossing his arms. "Cited the risks of prolonged sitting and how maintaining physical activity can reduce the risk of falls after being discharged."

"Maintaining physical activity? He's only been in here for two days!" Fuyuhiko says. "You expect him to wither just like that?"

The taller boy raises his hands in defeat. "I'm not questioning the Ultimate Nurse. You can question her decision yourself." Nagito huffs then gives Hajime a pointed glance. "Or ask the one right in front of you."

"For fuck's sakes."

Hajime, not the least bit surprised that Mikan said yes, gets up from his bed.

-/-

Hajime opens the door to the hospital and walks back inside. He didn't go far, not even outside of the hospital premises. Quarantine.

The fever is annoying, but there's a sense of clarity. As if he can see through the fog that has been in his brain since he first woke up disoriented and skin much too warm. He's definitely not as lost as the rest of his classmates.

These are his talents. He could even use some and not get caught. Hajime knows the others haven't seen him swim yet—they would have if Monokuma showed up just a smidge later that first day—and they would be downright shocked, maybe even impressed, to see the Ultimate Swimming Pro at work. But not suspicious. Not without any previous performance to compare to. He could do it sick, too. The Ultimate Soldier was trained to endure rough conditions after all.

He could manifest these particular talents and so many others, but his classmates would not even recognize them.

So then what's the point in using them in the first place?

How boring.

The lobby is dark with no one inside yet. The blue transmission light from the surveillance monitor casts an eerie blue glow against the counter. Hajime looks at the clock. The motel side is early. He walks up to the monitor and presses the button.

Chiaki's face lights up on the screen. "Oh, Hajime?" Her expression lights up right after. "I didn't expect to see you. How are you feeling?"

He weighs the pros and cons of responding before settling with a "Good." Then, Hajime examines her face. He thinks about whether he'd like to hear her comment on how his fever must have gone down since he's walking around or ask how the other patients are doing and where the other two boys are.

Her mouth opens, but Hajime opts to speak first. "I should go rest. I'm still recovering after all."

Chiaki blinks, but then nods, composed as ever. "Yes, of course. I'm glad you're doing fine." A soft smile graces her face as she says, "Sleep well, Hajime."

Hajime glances at her one last time, her carefree expression but the genuine care in her eyes, and is about to bid her a curt "Good night" when he looks by her ear and freezes.

His eyes hyper-fixate on the spaceship clip in her hair. His brain registers Gala Omega before the words are claimed by the fog in his brain again.

"Hajime?"

Chiaki tilts her head slightly, and Hajime's eyes follow the spaceship. For some reason, he can almost visualize it: the dark room, the clip in his hand.

The blood on his fingers.

The image drops as soon as he does. Not a single sound of protest spills from his lips even as his knees hit the tiled floor of the hospital lobby.

"Hajime! Are you okay?" There's panic in her voice. "Nagito! Fuyuhiko! Are you there? Help, Hajim—"

"It's fine, Chiaki. I'm okay," he grounds out, pain lacing his voice but mainly from the pounding in his head rather than the collision with the floor. He slowly props himself onto his knees. "I—"

The fluorescent lights turn on. "I told you, you bastard, this is exactly the sort of thing that happens when you let a patient out just because they seem to be getting better," Fuyuhiko growls, pulling Hajime up by his arm.

Nagito walks calmly to Hajime's other side, gripping the underside of his other arm. "He's okay, he just said so himself. Frankly, that's the most I've seen him emote all day." The white-haired boy looks into his eyes. "Did the walk recover your humanity?"

He doesn't need extraordinary analytical powers to tell that the question is pointed.

He shrugs off both of the boys with a surprising amount of force. "Yes," replies Hajime. "I… I can go back by myself."

Hajime sluggishly makes his way towards the hall. There's a moment of silence as the boys watch him go. Chiaki says nothing from the transmission.

Once Hajime is through the doors, Nagito smiles lightly. "I'll tail him. You two do the connection."

-/-

When Nagito reaches Hajime's room, the boy is already back in bed, Mikan sitting on a stool at his bedside.

She turns when he walks in. Hajime doesn't. The boy simply continues staring out the window, still and apathetic, as if the light teal of the hospital gown he's wearing is just for show.

"Oh, Nagito!" Suddenly, tears well up in Mikan's eyes. "H-his fever is still so high! I shouldn't have let him out! I'm sooorryyyyy!"

"Don't worry, Mikan," Nagito says. "He's back now. And I'm sure other than a few scrapes on his knees, he's just the same as he was before. No new revelations or anything."

Hajime looks at him then. There's no trace of a fever in his eyes, nothing lethargic about his movements. It's not a question that comes out of Hajime's mouth. "You're analyzing me."

"It would be a mistake not to," Nagito says simply. "Finding out anything we can is important. Were you three randomly infected, or did Monokuma select you for a reason?" He says. "Why Talent Disease? It fits the opposite theme, sure, seeing as you don't remember your talent." Nagito gives him a look as if daring him to refute his claim but Hajime remains silent. When it's clear that no rebuttal is coming, Nagito shrugs. "Your case is especially intriguing since you're still of sound mind. Are you another variable in hopes of inciting another murder?" He levels him with a strong gaze. "Or something else?"

"Y-you are interrogating a patient!" Mikan shrieks. "No no no, he has to rest! If he doesn't rest, he won't get b-better!"

It must be loud, Nagito thinks, to have her yelling right beside you like that. In a hospital, too, where loud sounds are out of place. But Hajime doesn't react, just keeps his eyes trained on Nagito's.

Nagito smiles.

-/-

Day 6
Morning

The sun glows on the morning of the sixth day since the last trial. A beautiful day for things to be amiss. A day that, once shattered, would serve as the perfect backdrop for a reminder of what kind of lives the students are trapped in now. Hajime hasn't heard a single footstep since sunrise but already knows.

"Hajime! Hajime, are you awake?"

Hajime, without responding, continues staring at the window, the ground of the third island illuminated by the morning sun. The door opens and Mikan meekly peeks her head in.

"Uhm… I've brought food for you." She walks in then, pulling a cart with two plates behind her. Breakfast for the patients. Her hair is unkempt and there are bags under her eyes.

"If you're feeling too unwell or want to sleep. I can put in an IV for you. This hospital is stocked with tons of different substances, there's no need to be worried!"

Hajime looks at her then.

"It's precisely because there are so many substances at your disposal that I don't think it'd be safe for anyone to take an IV from you."

The girl squawks and looks like she's about to cry. "W-why… I know I'm not the most reliable, but I'm the Ultimate Nurse!" Mikan protests. "I'm well-aware of what they do."

"A nurse. But today, a murderer as well. A likely day if any to betray your usual practice."

There's a pause. Then, as if a switch is flipped, a flush grows on her cheeks. The spirals in her eye swirl as Mikan lets out an excited squeal.

"Izuru!" She raises her arms as if to hug an old friend.

Hajime doesn't move. "I won't be here for long. I anticipate Monokuma relieving us of these symptoms as soon as the killing happens. Or rather, is found, at this point."

She joins her hands together happily. "Ahh. I should've known you would see through me immediately, Izuru! You're so perceptive. Just like her." Mikan practically drools as she speaks.

"Go," Hajime says. "Fuyuhiko will be in the lobby soon. And if you're really planning on covering your tracks," he states, voice passive as ever, "you should at least pretend to feed three patients." He doesn't even glance back at the two plates on the cart. "Though I wouldn't offer any at all. If you supposedly offered us breakfast, you should've noticed Ibuki missing, and Hajime might catch on to that."

Mikan sighs happily. She slinks to the door but not before retrieving the tray of food by his bedside table and pulling the cart behind her. The door opens smoothly, and Mikan casts one last glance behind her, her face back to her normal colour, her eyes alert like a nurse's on duty. Hajime watches the craziness, the spirals in her eyes, fade away like a predator slinking into hiding after setting a trap, waiting for its prey.

"Goodbye, Izuru."

"Goodbye, Remnant."

The door clicks shut as she leaves. Izuru Kamukura doesn't see her again.

-/-

Day ?
Nighttime

At least, not until they're on the boat.

Hajime checks up on her. She did take a tumble after all, partly at the hands of the boy standing beside him in his fervour to meet another. And even nurses need help from other nurses sometimes.

Nagito stares at the water, absentmindedly flexing his hand, unbothered by the faint mechanical whir. He seems peaceful, at least until he abruptly turns towards Hajime. "Well?"

Hajime laughs sheepishly. "Sorry. I zoned out. What did you say?"

"I said, now that we've seen what it's like back there, do you think you can do it?" Nagito nods his head toward him briefly. "You, as the most talented person around. I don't know what exactly you envision the future to be like, but I know you're not giving up on hope."

The waters are dark and gray. They lap against the boat as they prepare to sail back to Jabberwock Island despite having left not too long ago. And the skies are cloudy and crimson. It's certainly not a sight one would see in a normal world. It would take a lot of effort to rid the world of what brought it to ruin, some of those things brought by their own hands.

"They called me the Ultimate Hope. That was what Izuru Kamukura was supposed to be."

And Izuru Kamukura had many talents, all of them for one talent in particular. A talent surrounded by purity and good.

Makoto Naegi hadn't yet gained that talent at the time when Hajime Hinata became Izuru Kamukura. No one had won against the Ultimate Despair when he signed the consent form. After all, the world hadn't yet fallen into despair. Although hope itself was researched as the true end goal, Makoto's talent in particular—other than his good luck—had not been researched in the same way and distilled into him.

He wondered how the other boy's hope varied from his. If not simply due to mindless curiosity stemming from the camaraderie of having the same talent, then because the world as it stood now was dark. And it would take a lot of effort to restore the world to what it once was.

They'd both have roles to play in what's to come. And they both knew that of each other if the look they had shared was any indication. Two hopes, playing important roles in two different places.

"I'd like to be the Ultimate Hope," Hajime says simply.

Footsteps sound across the wooden deck. "Hey!"

The two turn away from the railing and the sea to see Fuyuhiko, one hand shoved in his suit pocket, the other gripping a video camera. "I found one, just like you asked," he says, looking at Hajime. "Not that I know what you want this for anyway. We're not done with videos yet?"

"Great. Thanks, Fuyuhiko," Hajime says gratefully, walking away from the railing and grabbing the camera from him. "Can you tell everyone to gather at the portside entrance?"

"The… what?"

"The left entrance," he reiterates. "When facing the bow, or the front. The entrance we entered from by the docks."

"Ah. Alright. Another request without explanation, but I trust you." Fuyuhiko scoffs before giving him a smug look. The black eyepatch patterned with frenzied orange lines was intimidating, but somehow the boy looked anything but. "Not like that needs to be said. After all the shit we've been through and ever since we woke up, even when there were only five of us, you've always seemed like you know what you're doing."

"You're getting mushy, you know?"

Fuyuhiko scoffs for real this time. "Shut it. I'm going to round people up." The yakuza turns and walks away, waving his now free hand, empty without the camera, goodbye as he goes.

Nagito peels himself away from the railing. "Hmm. A video with everyone?" The thoughtful look on his face clears as he addresses Hajime. "Are we perhaps going to be the Ultimate Despair again?"

"You're quick to catch on. And also very blunt." Hajime suspects that most of Class 77-B wouldn't want to hear those words just yet. It was hard enough to face what they've done, and even if they did, it wouldn't mean that they were over it quite yet. But they had time and a bunch of other people who had gone through the same thing in each other, their precious classmates. They could—and would—heal together.

Hajime eyes Nagito out of the corner of his eye. "But you've always been one to not be too disturbed by things."

"Guilty as charged, our trustworthy leader."

Nagito moves to pluck the camera out of his grip and turns it over in his hands. "A video of things as they are now though… We won't seem like the Ultimate Despair people have grown to know."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll be doing all of the talking. And we have the Ultimate Animator on our side now as well. I'm sure he could do something to make us seem more like what we were." Hajime points to one of his eyes before winking said red eye playfully.

"I see," Nagito says, conceding gracefully. "You've thought this through, then. There was nothing to worry about whatsoever."

In the distance, Hajime hears footsteps and the congregation of far-off voices. "People are probably starting to gather by the portside entrance. We should go."

He starts walking down the ship's deck, shoes echoing resolutely against the wood, the sound of waves regular and calming under the scarlet sky. Hopefully it'll be brighter once dawn breaks.

Nagito matches his pace. It's the Lucky Student who breaks the silence.

"You know," Nagito says, "you are the Ultimate Hope." He gives him a smile, not uncommon, but surprisingly genuine. "In more ways than one."

It's a loaded statement, but Hajime smiles too.

"Thanks, Nagito."

And as the crowd of his classmates comes into view, Hajime gets the sense that Chiaki is cheering him on from wherever she is.

End


Thank you for reading!

I mentioned how I was—still am—in love with this idea. I spent days which turned into weeks of rewatching playthroughs of Chapter 3, aiming to write something full-bodied enough to be a possible alternative chapter from the game but also interesting enough to read as a story! It was so much fun reimagining allusions and hints from the game in this context, not to mention making my own.

I have so many revelations and elaborations that I'm ready and eager to share, but I'm sure you're feeling quite done with my story by now. And I think gushing over all that I poured into it might ruin the magic of the little details, making those connections yourself. So I leave you with a thank you again!