#i am still thinking about komaeda | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idyllcy · 1 year

Text

fun to believe, but they always leave

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Smut. (not explicitly described but still), teacher/student, immortal/reincarnated mortal

Summary: The sun chases after the moon for eternity.

What's the point of living?

You're not quite sure yourself.

Friedrich Nietzsche would argue that there is no point in living. He claims the question is meaningless since we're in no position to determine whether our lives hold value, and stepping outside of the process of existence to answer is impossible. It's not like we're some omnipotent being watching all of this unfold. Nietzsche had even claimed that god was dead. You assume that may be where you end up one day. Philosophy majors were just as ancient as those who created it were. All your professors resembled stone statues put up in colleges. What was with them and having beards? But even if you pondered the universe for ages, you would never understand it. Love was just as complex yet, so much prettier to study.

As you step into the classroom again, you spot a new face among the same group of students that you studied in that class with. He's pretty. Yet, his hair is so white that you could almost mistake him as a teacher if it weren't for the fact that he had not a single wrinkle on his skin. You wonder if he's a student-teacher here. It wasn't uncommon that they taught classes, yet you're surprised at the male teaching a course on love of all things. He has pretty green eyes. You wonder if he could be aphrodite with how pretty he was. But alas, beauty was subjective.

You sit down at a desk, laptop out. The rest of the class files in, and the male you had been staring at steps to the podium. Resting his books onto the podium, he pulls out a laptop and a stack of papers. You tilt your head in confusion.

"Welcome to CAMSUA 428 - Love Eternally," The student-teacher hums. "I'm the professor for this course, Professor Komaeda. If you're taking this course, you're either a psych major, deliriously in love with someone, or you came to learn how to manipulate someone into loving you. I'm not one to judge," He pauses. "Did any of you read about me on rate your professor?"

"Yes! Your course sounds like a lot of fun!"

"I'm glad to hear that," he smiles. "I'm also a lot of analysis and everything. This class ranges from neuroscience of a person in love to the body habits of a person in love. I cover everything."

"Prof, are you married?"

"No," He shakes his head. "Unfortunately, the soul I am waiting for has not returned."

"But you wear a ring from on your ring finger?"

On Komaeda's ring finger rests a flower ring set in resin. The flowers are a little dried out, but it's still pretty. "Ah, that's from a childhood sweetheart."

"How old are you?!"

"That's a secret," Komaeda winks at them, a finger over his lips. "Wanna guess?"

"Twenty-eight!"

"Thirty!"

"427!" You blurt out. You're not sure why that number came to mind specifically, but it's left your lips before you can even think it through. Your professor looks familiar. You don't know why. He looks like he's barely in his 20s; why the hell would he be 427-

Komaeda stares at you, and he smiles. "All excellent guesses. Though, I wonder why one of you know how old I actually am."

"H-huh?!"

"Just kidding!" Komaeda laughs.

The light in the room shines on him in the center, causing him to stand in a nearly holy glow. He's pretty. You see the way the other students in the class stare at him in awe. Now that you take a closer look at him, the top buttons on his royal green button-up are open, his white turtleneck resting underneath. His sleeves are folded up to his elbow, and a gold watch rests on his left wrist. He stares at the class as he shifts his weight onto one leg; you take note of his cuffed black jeans and the skull chain hanging off the belt loop. He's wearing... are those combat boots? His hair is nicely combed, yet it had a sense of madness to it. Actually, it doesn't look that combed upon second look. The round glasses on his nose have little chains dangling off of the sides, and he smiles at the class. He looks straight out of a movie.

"Say, Y/n-chan, you didn't say that on purpose, did you? Think I'm too old for you?"

You're caught off guard when he calls you by name.

"I know a handful of you by name; please don't feel creeped out," Komaeda chuckles. "Pull out your syllabuses. We're going over that today."

Professor Komaeda resembles the moon almost. The way his voice is breathy despite young, and the way his eyes always look so distant while teaching. His voice resembles those of the sirens. He pulls and lulls you closer and closer to him. You kind of wish this was a lecture class instead of a discussion class. You stop caring when Komaeda flashes a pretty smile at you though. Oh, he's pretty. You wonder how old he was. There had been rumors that this year's professor was completely new instead of the old one. Apparently, last year's professor left after his wife was transferred to another school. But then again, according to the front office, he just took a year off last year. You wonder what kind of professor gets privilege like that.

You don't find it in yourself to care. You're much too focused on the way your professor looks no older than you. You'd fuck him. He doesn't even look like the hot professor in the dilf way; he just looks like a college preppy boy who ends up railing you stupid after the first date. You wonder if that's what he is. The corners of your lips curl into a smile unconsciously, and your professor takes notice. He doesn't comment on it, but turns to continue rambling about the syllabus. You want to kiss him breathless. You wonder how you're having such awful thoughts about your professor of all people, but you can't deny that you're not the only one who wants him in more ways than one.

"During the first quarter, we study the science behind love. Neuroscience is strange, and for the basic gist of it, your brain is royally screwed over when you're in love with someone," He chuckles. "Then, in the second quarter, we dive into the works of the works of Solaria and all the others. According to the artist, each reincarnation of theirs, no matter how far away, always found themself back at the museum their lover built them in their first life. It's kind of funny watching that relative find them after a century or two. Though, those are only rumors. Reincarnation is rare, if not completely a bluff."

"Ah, is it the artist Solaris? The one who has a recurring theme with the sky?"

"Correct!" Komaeda smiles. "Mi-chan, was it? Solaris is one of many souls that reincarnate and continue to pursue art. Have you been to the museum dedicated to them?"

"I have!" Another student calls. "Their art pieces through each life are gorgeous! And that portrait is so jaw-droppingly gorgeous! Professor, you kind of look like the portrait."

"I've been told," Komaeda smiles. "But that's not the point, because we're going to admire another piece of art by them. We're studying the man in the stars, not the man in the sun."

"The stars?"

"This one," Komaeda presents a photo on the board.

It looks like Komaeda. The blue of the night seems to cover him in a thin veil, the paleness of his eyes are so vibrant. The boy looks sick, yet he looked elated. The smile on his face and the finger pointed at the moon. The painting seems to come to life; the excited cheering of the boy rings through your ears. Eyes wide with fascination, you can almost hear his words. "There; there! Doesn't it resemble me? Right? Cuz I'm your moon?"

"Yes." You mumble under your breath. "It does."

Komaeda glances at you, and he chuckles. "But of course, this piece is compared to the sun piece later on. That one's in their museum, so we'll be going over it later on. There's a lot of parallelism in their works. It seems as if everything they draw reflects the stars."

"I heard their muse was a boy they grew up with."

"It was," Komaeda smiles. "You see him in a lot of their works, if not all of them. All of the paintings include him and two others, if not three. The pink haired girl, the brown haired boy, and then the black haired male. The three of them are always trailing behind the white haired boy. Other times, they sit on a cloth, a picnic set with them. The three of them are always smiling, the black haired boy only cracking a smile occasionally. They looked peaceful. Even in the scenery paintings under the stars or sun, there was never once when they weren't smiling."

The students stare in awe. "Solaria grew up without parents as an orphan who painted everything they saw. The paint they used was hand made at first, the majority of the colors were things you could find in nature. Eventually, they would meet their sponsor out in a field under the moon. It's anticlimatic in a way, but that sponsor would eventually grow to become their muse."

"How romantic!"

"Exactly!" Komaeda laughs. "So then the reason this class focuses on Solaria's works so much is precisely because of how they only loved one person in their life. There was no other in their relationship. Of course, other than them, we also cover all the other people. We just so happen to cover Solaria the majority of quarter two."

"Professor are you in love with them?"

"Maybe," Komaeda smiles. "After all, their life was quite the fairytale."

Komaeda is pretty. You don't know if he's caught on, but you haven't been paying attention for ages by now. It's funny. He looks exactly like Solaria's muse, the only thing different was the hair. Well, it's the same shade. You wonder if he's aware of that. Maybe he was addicted to the artist because they had painted someone who looked like him centuries ago. You ponder all the possibilities, but you don't worry about it too much. The content of the syllabus goes in one ear and out the other. You miss the entire syllabus. You don't even know that he left homework today. Oops.

Komaeda stares at the clock, and he smiles. "I'll dismiss you all early today. Go get some rest before your next class."

You blink out of focus, and then stare at the clock.

A handful of students rush out firsthand, and you slip your laptop back into your tote bag.

"Ah, Y/n," Professor Komaeda smiles. "Did you catch anything I said in class today?"

"No," You grin. "But I'll go over the syllabus when I get home. Mi-chan pays more attention than I do."

He clicks his tongue. "I'll just go over it with you right now."

He slips into the seat next to yours, and he smiles at you. "how old are you?"

"Trying to catch a case, professor?" You chuckle. "I'm not telling you."

"Just curious," He smiles. "Did you miss everything?"

"Almost." You grin. "I heard the part about Solaria and neuroscience though."

"The rest goes that we're working outside the majority of the time," Komaeda laughs. "And a handful of the classes are going to be at my place since my family holds all of their works."

"How rich," You mumble. "Alright. Anything else?"

"No," He smiles.

"Thank you, professor!" You grin, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

You stroll out the door, and Komaeda's eyes linger on you. You never change.

The world is an interesting place. Nothing determines the way we live. Many live just to live their life to the fullest. Why do people study? Knowledge is power. But is all that knowledge really power if the only thing you need to know is how to survive? What made man develop into what they are now? Why is mankind this way? Nietzsche said the world would end if mankind didn't stop destroying the planet, yet here we all are. The carbon in the air is worse than ever before, and we have barely a few years before carbon emissions, and the climate is changed permanently. So then why do people live? It's amusing to think of.

Komaeda only teaches one course in the entire university. He's well known amongst certain students; something along the lines of losing a hand in a bomb incident he caused. You're confused as to how a student who was a literal terrorist was teaching a philosophy course, but you suppose there is no sane philosophy student. The previous professor nearly destroyed his school, but then again, he has a cute little gamer girl wife. You wonder what you did wrong for the universe to hate you like that. When would YOU get a man like that? When would you live out the life of your dreams with a man who only loves you?

He's also never on campus.

You set your dinner tray down, and you stare at the Italian stained glass plastered everywhere on the windows. It had a nearly gothic vibe to the dining hall. It's never this empty, but then again, it's late into the evening. Traces of the sun are gone, instead, replaced with the blue glow you see from the moon. The glass would look prettier in the day, though. You sit down next to your roommate, her smiling at you.

"He looks familiar." You mumble.

"Well no shit, he looks like the boy in the portrait." Your roommate shrugs. "It's his relative, no?"

"No," You hum. "Same person."

"Huh?"

You open your laptop, and you show your roommate. "Our professor is either a direct descendant, has reALLY strong genes, or he's the same person. Since the professor lost his parents when young, there's no record of his parents whatsoever. I'm just assuming that he's the same person."

"So a reincarnator?"

"Maybe," You shrug. "But those are rare, so it might just be a coincidence. Wouldn't you fall in love with someone who adored you centuries ago to the point that you're hung up in a museum dedicated to your artist?"

"Perhaps," Your roommate smiles. "Have you read the first chapter on neuroscience yet?"

"Nope!" You grin. "But I know the basics of it."

"Why are you in this class again? You don't even need this to graduate?"

"Something told me that I'll find something important here." You smile. "Well, not that it matters. I just want to understand what creates art and the pieces that it adores."

Your roommate chuckles. "It's a shame, if you recalled your past life, I would have asked if we were friends."

"I have a feeling we were," You hum. "I always include you in my warmup sketches."

"And yet you're not an art major," She hums, a smile on her face. "Why'd you choose psychology?"

You stare at her. "Because science explains everything, if not putting a label on it."

"True," She mumbles. "But even then, with hands like yours, I wouldn't be surprised if you could create life one day."

"That'd be hilarious," You chuckle. "But it's pretty, isn't it? That hands like Solaria's could create such beautiful art. Their muse was gorgeous in their paintings."

"Yeah," Your roommate sighs. "I wish someone would love me like that."

"Oh, please," You grumble. "At least you have someone who loves you."

"You're single by choice."

"I'm really not," You stab your broccoli. "I get no bitches."

"Oh, you do," Your roommate mirrors your move. "Only under the pen name."

"Yeah, but that's not me," You shrug. "Say, if our professor is single, do you think I have a chance?"

You dodge the spoon she throws at you.

"The moon loves their stars. The nerves in your body seem to resemble the stars in some way. A bridge to another, the running and spinning to chase after it desperately. The neurotransmitters being held by the dendrites. The way your skin lights up at the softest of touches. Love is a strange thing." Komaeda hums. "Do any of us know the names of the chemical released when in love?"

"Oxytocin!"

"One more," Komaeda smiles at the student.

"Half," You mumble to your roommate, the two of you taking notes.

"On his nerves?"

"No," You mumble. "Not her. Someone else. I know who that someone is, but they're doing it on purpose."

"Vasopressin!"

"Good job," Komaeda raises his brows, a smile on his face.

"Close enough," You mumble.

"Y/n-chan, Mi-chan, do you two have something you'd like to share with the class?"

Your roommate pauses, and she stares at you.

"Professor, what's on your mind?" You thrust your chin gently.

Your roommate stares at you, eyes wide.

"Nothing, why?" He smiles, eyes closed.

"Catch that?" You mumble, your roommate clicking on the keys. "Lie."

"Are you psychoanlyzing me in class?"

"Reading your microexpressions, but yes," You smile. "Sorry about that, professor."

Komaeda sighs, and he goes back to the lesson.

"First one to figure out what's pissing him off gets free dinner."

"Oh, it is on."

"What part of the brain isn't active while we're in love?"

"Amygdala," You call.

"Correct," He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"What a genuine smile," Your roommate shudders. "Disgusting."

"He's barely any older than we are," You type a note into your doc. "He's irritated because I wasn't participating. Bingo."

"I hate you," She grumbles.

"The amygdala, frontal cortex, parietal cortex, and middle temporal cortex are all at minimum activity when you're in love," Komaeda smiles. "You know that euphoric feeling of being in love and fearing nothing? That's what love feels like. The amygdala is mainly for fear and anger, so the decreased activity in that area, which means you feel safe in their arms. To add on that, your frontal cortex makes decisions, which means love is blind. Literally."

You finish the notes, and you hum, closing your laptop.

Your roommate stares at you, something clicking in the back of her mind.

The milky way revolves around the sun. To people like her, they're just meteors passing by in your life. You stand at the center of everything. Nothing can touch you, you can touch nothing. It hurts. Loving you burns at their body until there's nothing but flames and smoke in their lungs. You're up in the sky to remind people that you exist. You spread warmth at a distance; you burn when close. If the moon froze everyone in their way, then the sun burned everyone who got close. Icarus lost his wings because of you. The boy who got greedy, who fell to his death at a single touch of you. The sun burns people who get close.

She supposes that you're not the only one.

Komaeda resembles the moon. The way his hair is pale without color, the way his skin looks dainty and delicate. He freezes anyone too close. The frostbite is hard to recover from. Komaeda doesn't have close friends. A simple look at him, and people would realize that he's the only one at the back of the room. He's the type to talk to people out of courtesy; yet never approach anyone first. He's cold. Perhaps that's why you were so eager to take up his case. Something to calm the ramming of your heart against your chest, anything to keep you cool-headed. But it's going to kill the both of you if you get too close. It's like mixing fire and water. It will never calm down.

So begins the vicious cycle of the sun chasing the moon.

"Professor," You smile at him. "Were you bothered because I wasn't participating today?"

"Huh?" Komaeda raises his brows. "No? Why so?" he rubs the back of his neck.

"I don't like liars, professor," You purse your lips, pouting at him.

Komaeda blinks, scratching his cheek. "Sorry. You just remind me of someone I study."

"Huh?"

"The newly arising artist? Ah, the one who paints the sunflowers like Van Gogh." Komaeda smiles. "I stayed up late last night, and I was a little annoyed at how their art style resembled Solaria's so much."

"Perhaps Solaria's their inspiration?" You look up, avoiding his eyes.

"Are you not telling me something?"

"Huh?" You stare at him. "No?"

"Mm," Komaeda hums, tapping his chin. "You see... I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm incredibly perceptive, which means I can tell a lie from the truth easily. Now, tell me what you know about what you know."

"No," You stare at him, all signs of lying gone. "I just know that they're an artist who visits the museum often."

"Well, many artists visit the museum often," He hums. "Have you been?"

"No," You shake your head, a smile on your face.

"It's a very nice place. You should visit sometime," Komaeda smiles.

Komaeda is kind to you. His words soothe you, and when you remain after class to talk to him more, there's so much that he breaks down for you. He doesn't ask why you didn't understand the piece and took the course, but he helps you digest it. It's hard to understand what the two of you are. Student and professor? Too foreign. Yet, saying the two of you were friends sounded strange. But then again, it's probably out of character to be sitting in a cafe booth with your professor discussing about Solaria's art.

"You know most of their early life, right?"

"Yeah," Komaeda smiles. "They were a pretty child, but they were poor. Their parents died because of a lack of doctors in the village, and they became a wandering painter. They took up side jobs to pay for the art supplies at first, before their art was found and then sponsored by an old friend. That friend became their muse."

"Their muse was gorgeous," You bite on the straw of your coffee. It hurts; you forgot it was your metal straw. "If someone as pretty as their muse was sponsoring me, I'd draw them for the rest of my life too."

"You draw?"

"A little," You smile. "In my free time."

"That's nice," Komaeda smiles. "Show me sometime?"

"If you'd like," Your eyes trail back to your laptop, and you continue typing. Komaeda has his laptop in front of him, the rays of the setting sun brushing his face. You want to stare. You really do. You force yourself to keep working instead. He isn't a student. Why are you out with him again? Wait.

"Ah, um," You stare at Komaeda. "professor?"

"yes?"

"Why are we at a cafe again?"

"You said you needed help with the assignment."

Oops.

"Right... I did," You blink. "I was not expecting to end up at a coffee shop with you."

"I don't do well in the classroom cold," He smiles. "My apologies. Is this a little too casual for you?"

"No," You shake your head. "It's just... a little strange, perhaps."

"Ah, because you're out with your professor?"

"Well, it's not like you're old or anything," You smile. "So unless they take your class, they probably won't know you're a teacher."

"I hope so," He smiles. "My luck has a tendency to wear out in moments like this sometimes."

"Is that so?" You continue on the assignment. "I heard that Solaria's original muse had a luck cycle as well. If you look closely on a handful of their pieces, you'll find traces of water on the canvas. Probably from rain."

Komaeda stares at you. "You noticed that?"

"I did," You smile. "Because I had a dream or something. Also, because Solaria's muse never married or had children, so the art belonging to someone that's a descendant sounds impossible."

"Is that so?" Komaeda shrugs, pressing his tea to his lips.

"Ah, back on our psychoanalyzing schedule," You laugh, a smile on your face. "How'd your family get your hands on Solaria's art?"

Komaeda stares at you, eyes mirthed. "How do you think?"

You smirk.

Komaeda's excuse for how he got the art was that he bought it from the black market. Though, it is arguable since the museum was started by the muse himself. There had been no records that he had any children, but people talked about how he probably never died. Immortals of their age weren't unheard of. Though, many of them died of heartbreak. You wonder if Komaeda is the muse. Well, it's not like it matters. Even if he was the muse, you find it breathtaking that he still loved them after so long.

His lectures grow boring sometimes. Occasionally he goes on a tangent about how love was filled with a hope that could overcome any despair. He makes a comment or two about how he's undeserving of it, but then he moves on before anyone can point it out. He has something about his confidence. Though, you don't really think too much about it.

Class ends at 4, and you pack your things up slowly. Your roommate ran off first chance for her date. You wonder what it feels like to be loved.

"Ah, Y/n-chan," He smiles. "Did Mi-chan run off?"

"Yeah," You hum. "Did you need something, professor?"

"I was wondering," He smiles. "If you were an art major."

"I am," You're not surprised he caught on so early.

"Could I see?"

You take your laptop back out, and you pull up a website of your art. Komaeda smiles at the art.

"So you are the rising artist?"

"yeah," You scratch your cheek. "Um, Solaria is kind of an inspiration, but I do genuinely share their love for the stars."

Komaeda stares at you, eyes glancing at the moles on your fingers and then at you. He smiles. "Your art is lovely. I'm sure Solaria would've loved it."

"You speak like you know her, professor," You chuckle as he scrolls through the rest of your art. He pauses at the sight of a child that looks like himself. "Is this..."

"Ah," You turn red, your neck burning in embarrassment. "It's going to sound weird but I see him in my dreams occasionally."

"Ah," Komaeda stares at you, and he smiles. "Perhaps a soul connection?"

"Like soulmates?" You close your laptop and slip it back into your bag.

"No," He shakes his head. "like memories from a past life."

"Maybe it was the bibliography that I read..." You brush it off, waving your hand. "Thank you, professor."

"Of course," He nods. "Stay safe."

Fondness. Komaeda was fond of you. You remind him of Solaria. Hell, you are Solaria. Their soul rests in you, even if you're not aware of it. No matter how many times you reincarnated, you were still them. Komaeda feels disgusted. Times and times he fell in love with you, and you had seen him as nothing more than a muse. Even when you were on your deathbed, you were still sketching him. You offered him no words of advice or love. You had always been like that. You had always seen him as a muse. In the first life, you adored him with the love that you would for a best friend. The second, you had adored him with the love that an artist had for a muse. The third, it was the love for a parent. The fourth, it was the love of someone who would never confess or accept. The fifth was the love for the sun and stars and the way he seemed to glow. You had never loved Komaeda with the love that one has for their lover.

He wants to throw up every time he's reminded that you're cursed to never love him.

"Are you cold?" Komaeda raises a brow. "You're shivering."

"It's a bit cold," You smile. "Don't worry about it. It's not an issue."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Komaeda frowns. It feels hot in the room. He can't tell if it's because he's normally cold or if it's actually hot. By the way you're shaking, though, he's sure that it's warmer than he's used to, and colder than you're used to. He wonders if it's the room. He takes off his coat, and he hands it to you. You reject it, a smile still on your face.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," You nod. "That was all I wanted to ask. Thank you, professor."

"The pleasure is all mine," Komaeda beams. "Stay safe out there."

You don't love him.

"Right, professor," You stare at him. "I hope I'm not intruiding, but how much do you make in a year? I heard the school doesn't pay well."

"Oh," Komaeda chuckles. "No worries, you're not intruding on anything. I make around 13,787,696 yen a year. I also yield from money, so it's quite a bit."

"Then... what do you do in your free time?"

Komaeda smiles. "I'm sure you know."

"I'll think of it," You grin. "Thank you for your time!"

"Pleasure was all mine. Email me if you have any other questions." Komaeda stands up from his seat, adjusting his sleeve.

"Of course, professor." You smile. "Have a lovely day."

You don't love him.

The sun chases after the moon for eternity. That's how it's been, and that's how it's supposed to be. Yet, Komaeda chases after you forever. Each time you're in his arms, he suffers. He's stuck in the endless space between the two of you. The sun has so many people adoring it, how could a simple moon be anything to compare with the other nebulas? The moon has her stars, so the sun had turned away; but the sun has his galaxies, so the moon had looked away. Komaeda will spend life after life chasing after you.

The first life, you had painted hundreds upon thousands of portraits of him and his friends. Even as a child, when you first met him as a child, you had sketched him in the sun. Though you gave him a small ring made of flowers, you were a painter. You painted until your fingers grew numb, but you had continued to. Even as you were old and sitting on your deathbed, you were still sketching Komaeda. He was your muse. He was ethereal in your eyes. The way his eyes were pale with fear because of his luck, the way his skin was light as a result of his childhood. The way his hair was pale without color, fading out into a pink that you adored. You had passed with a smile on your face.

The second life, Komaeda spoiled you with whatever marble you desired. You had chipped away at the rock until it came to life. The way Komaeda saw himself as a rock, one with life. You had called him the boy. Just the plain name of 'the boy'. Your skill was recognized everywhere, and you had created life with the rocks Komaeda had given you. His wealth ran endless for you. You would sketch the basics, and then you would bring them to life. The way you created wings for Icarus, patting the pink of roses onto the lips of Aphrodite, you did everything. You sculpted all of Komaeda's friends, all of them perfect copies. Chiaki's pink hair was replicated with granite, you making sure that it was accurate. Your hands traced Komaeda's skin, carving him to perfection. You created life with your fingers, even when the rock had crushed you to your death.

The third, you worked with gems. You had thousands of rocks provided to you by Komaeda. He never knew what form of art you would pick up in the next life. He found you when you were a child this time. In whatever life you lived, your parents never lived long enough to see you grow up. Komaeda had taken you in as your caretaker after finding you on the street, staring longingly at the craftsmen working with gems. You had joked about he never aged, and you had stayed next to him. You created thousands of jewels. You created all of Komaeda's accessory drawers. The green of the emeralds brought out his eyes; the red from the ruby brought out the tips of his hair. You had crafted each band carefully whenever you asked. Even when he requested a set of jewelry your size, you had joked with him. "I hope they let me call them mom." You died from lead poisoning.

The fourth, you had been a tailor. Every yard of fabric under your hands was treated with care. Komaeda had found you at the place he got his suits tailored regularly. You had never changed. With a brief discussion, he had managed to hire you to make suits for him exclusively. Any fabric you wanted to work with, he let you try. The silks from China, the satin from Greece, the cotton from the commoners. You worked with everything. Komaeda had requested little from you. Only a wedding dress your size, and a suit in his. Even as your eyes swirled with hurt while creating the dress, you had never told Komaeda you loved him. Even as you coughed from the smoke of the factories, you never stopped. Three days after the creation of the dress, you lost your life; and Komaeda lost his only chance.

The fifth life, you made people dance with joy. Your fingers would bounce off the keys of the piano, stringing the crowd's heart along. The sun and moon would bow for you, conducting the sky to shine along with the melody. Your music left the taste of honey on peoples' lips. Their mind was hazy with adoration for your pieces. Komaeda found you before you grew famous. He met you in the street under a streetlight, a violin in your hand, placing it into your case. He had recognized you immediately. But even as the chandelier slammed on top of you during your piece, your corpse had been found with a smile on its face.

The boy in your dreams is older today.

"Hey, my sun?"

"Yeah?" Your lips move unconsciously.

"Do you think... I'll ever be healthy enough for another sun portrait?"

"After that sunburn? I think not," You grumble, going back to sketching the boy lying down next to the window. "You're still recovering from that."

"I know... but I wanna-"

"No buts," You feel your lips curl into a pout. "Your parents are rolling in their grave right now."

"My nanny isn't," the boy folds his arms, a frown on his face. "Would you paint me once I recover?"

"I'm sketching you right now, am I not?"

"I know you are," he mumbles. "But I want another portrait."

"Maybe when you recover." You feel yourself in their body. "Say, what's your name again-"

"It's N-"

You wake up in a cold sweat. You stare at your hand and then at the mirror. There aren't any lead stains or blood stains from the dream. You reach for your notebook, and you sketch the same image down. Your roommate snores from her bed, and you paint out the boy's face. He looks exactly like your professor. You're worried, but as the sun rises and you step out of bed, you toss it to the back of your mind. Maybe you would pay Solaria's museum a visit sometime.

Even as you wander through the streets of the university, there's always something holding the back of your mind hostage. It's like the tale about the moles. You pray that it's true. The moles on your fingers and skin make you happy. One is on your ring finger, and another is on your wrist. You feel loved every time you see it. It's like your lover had adored you to pieces. It was a funny concept to think about. There was love about everything. You wonder if reincarnation was one. You would worry about that later.

Komaeda spends his days in his galleries and staring at the portraits. He lingers in front of a picture of a male in the sunflower field. He bears a striking resemblance to him. The piece is gorgeous. Komaeda misses the person who painted it. It had been centuries since he last saw them. He wonders how much longer their reincarnation would take to visit the museum. Well, it wasn't like he needed to wait. He knew where they were.

You bump into Komaeda on accident in the museum. You're in awe at the portrait of the same male who seemed to have taught your class. He looks breathtaking. The way the sun kisses his skin and the flowers hug him. The red on his cheeks from smiling is ethereal. He looks alive with his rosy cheeks and pretty lips. You know the art is from ages ago, yet he just looks so happy. The way he basked in the sun's light made you happy. You don't know why. The green jacket and white shirt make you nostalgic, an overwhelming amount of bitterness drowning you. You don't know what happened to him. You don't know why this piece makes you so sad.

"Y/n-chan?"

You turn to stare at your professor, eyes wide, lost in thought over a feeling you didn't know.

"Are you crying? What happened?"

You don't know what to tell him. That you were suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion you didn't know? That you had no clue why you felt like crying? That the feeling of seeing someone for the first time in eternity burned the back of your head? That you felt like the artist was in utter bliss while painting the piece? The fact that you could feel the artist laughing melodiously as they painted? The fact that you were overcome with the suffocating urge to touch the painting? How would you even begin to explain it? It doesn't matter. You stare at your professor, tears dribbling down your cheeks. You're crying. Eyes wide with confusion, you're crying.

Komaeda panics, and before his mind can reprimand him for cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears, the thought is gone. You're crying. Fuck. You're crying in front of him. Are you crying because of him? Did he bring you that much discomfort? Oh, maybe he should go. But it isn't rude to leave someone you know crying by themselves? Komaeda feels bad. He stays with you, wiping your tears gently. His hands are a little rough, but they give you comfort. You're happy with it.

"I'm sorry," The words spill out of Komaeda's lips unconsciously. "Are you crying because of me?"

"No," You mumble, reaching to wipe your tears yourself. Komaeda offers you a handkerchief, and you mumble a gentle thank you. "I'm crying because the painting makes me feel some way. I'm just overcome with such nostalgia over the portrait. It hurts my chest."

Komaeda knows why it hurts. Hell, he remembers it. That is him. He even remembers the words their soul told him while painting it. The sun made him sweat a mess, but they went home with a rough sketch, and an even prettier portrait. They had shown it to him with such a big smile on their face. Komaeda had sworn nothing had ever shone so brightly. His parents scolded him for being out under the moon so long despite being a sickly child, but he had adored the portrait so much. He had it hung in his room. Even as they grew older and older, the life that they brought out in their art was still so alive. They had painted thousands of paintings in your past, every single one given to Komaeda after they finished. Komaeda has their paintings decorated in a room at his mansion for the day he meets their soul again.

The portrait under the sun was their best piece. The way Komaeda's eyes crinkled with joy, his cheeks red from the heat and embarrassment. Komaeda looked euphoric, the way his smile stretched from one side to the other, the absolute joy in his life. Oh, he adored it so much so. The sun had left him with a sunburn that they treated when they returned to the mansion. His sun had scolded him to tell them earlier, but the look on Solaria's face when they had finished the portrait was just so pretty. It was dazzling. He wouldn't have been able to tell them even if it killed him.

Komaeda has the best ones hung up in the museum he sponsors. Each one is signed under the same pseudonym, and though some people find art boring, the pieces bring light to their eyes. He loved them. He adored the childhood friend who sat him down for hours at a time and painted him times and times again. They were the sun in his life that brought him warmth. They helped him heal during the times that he needed to heal. Even as they had lay in bed, a pencil in their hand in the first life, they had never stopped drawing him. Their unfinished piece was Komaeda hunched over in pain before they passed. Komaeda can't stand to look at that piece.

"I'm sorry," You wipe your tears. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

"My family owns the museum," He smiles. "Every single piece in here is by the same soul."

"Soul? Solaria?"

Komaeda swallows. "They're a treasure to my- me."

You stare at him, eyes watery. "You're the muse?"

"Yes," Komaeda swallows. "Are you alright? You were crying pretty hard."

"Ah," You stare at him, eyes wide with newfound realization. "No. I just... Solaria's art has that effect on me, I guess."

Komaeda smiles. "Understandable. What brings you here? You could have texted me to give you a tour?"

"I didn't know you owned this place," You mumble. "Does that mean you have no family?"

"It's just me," Komaeda smiles. "I never married."

"So you own this place?"

"Everything I own is for my sun's soul to use," He smiles. "I work hard for when I meet their soul again."

"So..." You stare at him. "Are you a government secret?"

Komaeda laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "No, my darling student, I am not. In fact, the government knows I'm alive, but they don't do anything about me. I haven't done anything weird like the other immortals."

"Others...?"

"All of Solaria's muses were immortal," Komaeda smiles. "You'd be surprised at how many immortals are teaching at this school."

You blink at him.

"Professor Nanami, Hinata, Kamukura..." Komaeda counts on his fingers. "You know? All of them were muses."

You blink at him.

"Ah... do you have the portraits of them?"

Komaeda holds his hand out to you, and you grasp it loosely. He pulls you to the back of the museum and unlocks a room with a card. You let go of his hand, and you stare at the paintings on the wall. It's the other professors. You blink at the portrait of your roommate on the wall and pause.

"That's..."

"She's also an immortal," Komaeda swallows. "I don't know if she-"

"I suspected it," You mumble. "So this is a government secret? Are you all part of the men behind the curtain?"

Komaeda laughs. "No. We just choose to not tell people. It's much safer that way."

"I suppose so," You stare at him. "So, what made you trust me?"

"Solaria's art triggered... something about you. I guess," He smiles.

"Ah, do you have any of their sketches?" You turn to him, and he nods. "Which ones?"

"There was a boy laying under the sun." You mumble. "That I read about." You add. You don't think your professor wants to know that you keep dreaming scenes of Solaria's life.

"Oh, when I got a sunburn?" He pulls a drawer open, and he reaches for the sketchbook. "It hurt that day, and Solaria did not make it any better."

"I thought she was with you the whole day?" You take the sketches from his hand, and you pull out your phone. It's an exact copy of what you drew in the morning. Your face is relaxed, but your mind swirls with emotion. You have their soul. Their soul is yours.

"Are you alright, Y/n-chan? You look sick again."

You shake your head, a smile on your face. "No worries. You just look like you're in immense pain."

"I was," He chuckles, but his eyes are gentle with tenderness. "But they made it better."

"Did they have a name?"

"No," Komaeda shakes his head. "It was always Solaria."

You should probably continue to sign with Solaria on your art pieces.

"Anything else?"

You shake your head. "Thank you, professor."

Komaeda grows closer to you after the event at the museum. The two of you go out for coffee, and while it's taboo for a student and professor to go out for coffee every week to discuss an artist, the two of you stopped caring. Komaeda's way too old to care, and you're too into Solaria's past to give a fuck. You never bothered confronting your roommate about this whole thing, only asking her for advice on your art.

Komaeda spends a lot of time with you. For the most part, he forgets that he's in love with Solaria. You remind him of the soul, yet you're a completely different person in his eyes. He can't bring himself to compare you to Solaria. Yet, as you wave at him as the sun rises from their slumber, Komaeda finds a sense of peace with you. Maybe it was his sign to move on, not that he wanted to.

The students in the class are lively. When midterms end, the class throws a party. You tag along, mainly because your roommate had bet you fifty bucks that the professor wouldn't come. You had raised a row at her, lip quirked into a smirk, and tagged along. It doesn't take much to convince you to party. Though, you were drowsier at night. You wonder how you ended up tipsy at the edge of the second-floor balcony when you told yourself you wouldn't drink. However, the bigger question was why your professor was next to you.

"Hey, professor?" You giggle, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"You're drunk, Y/n-chan," He mumbles, taking off his blazer, resting it over your shoulders.

"You know," You spin gently, the glass of alcohol still in your hand. "I chased after the sun for eternity and rest while the moon illuminates the field. I am neither the sun, the sky, the stars, nor the moon, but I am an observer. I am the child that stares out the window of their worn-out cabin, dreaming of a love like theirs."

Komaeda watches you slow down, and he takes the glass from your fingers.

"I can only pray for someone to chase me like the sun chases the moon," You turn to glance inside the flat. "The way the moon loved the sun, but finally turned to notice how much the stars adored them. The way that the sun chased the moon but finally glanced ahead to stare at the plenty of nebulas that adored them. I want to be loved the way that the sky loves."

Komaeda stays silent from next to you, and he stares at you in a way that makes you lighthearted.

"Ah," You grin at him. "But who am I to wish for something only the stars have?"

Komaeda smiles. "Aren't you afraid of me taking advantage of you?"

You're drunk at this point.

"I'd jump you before you could do that," You smile at him. "Hm? Professor?"

Komaeda inhales sharply as you drape your arms around his neck. He leans against the railing, trying his best to keep his hands off of you. You look ravishing. The way your outfit hugged your figure in all the right places, and the way your lashes batted innocently up at him. Fuck. You're his student for fuck's sake. He grimaces and clings to the balcony railing instead.

"You're drunk."

"I won't regret this in the morning," Your eyes focus on his throat, and he swallows. "A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts, you know?"

Komaeda sighs, and his lips part.

"So?"

"You better not regret this in the morning," Komaeda doesn't resist as you press your lips to his.

Komaeda is a pleaser. He listens to every whine and beg that slips past your lips as he fucks you. He pays attention to when your expressions change, and the way you squirm under his touch. His touch is gentle, yet as he grips your waist to keep you in place, you think they're more firm than gentle. You wonder if he's fucked you like this in one of your past lives. Well, it's not like it matters. He must've taken up at least a lover or two while waiting for Solaria's soul. You don't mind. Your brain is too hazy to think straight anyway.

Komaeda wants to make sure you feel good. The only thing racing through his mind as he presses his lips to your skin is to please you. So he drinks up each sound that your pretty lips make. The purple and red decorate all over your skin in places you can hide. He's sure you don't want to get caught sleeping with your professor of all people, even if he is young. Komaeda drinks you up like you're the nectar of the gods. Like you're the water from the fountain of youth. He could spend eternity under you, worshipping you for your worth. So Komaeda makes sure that you know he loves you. Even if you won't remember it in the morning, he would please you to no end.

Komaeda worships you like the people adore the sun. To you, he's just an insignificant worshipper at your feet, doing his very best to please his god. Oh, you're just so pretty to him. You clench the sheets until they're stained with the remnants of you, your lipstick messy on his collar. He's sure he looks more of a mess than you, but he doesn't care. His wrist is drenched by you, but as he pulls another breathless whine from your lips, he supposes you'll be fine for the night.

"In me," You whine. "I want you in me."

He swallows, unsure.

"Please," Your mascara stains your cheeks, and you jut out your bottom lip for emphasis. "...Nagito?"

Who is Komaeda to turn down your request?

As Komaeda complies with your request, you mumble incoherent thoughts. It's usually mindless praise for how good he was, or a breathy whine about how it was too much. Komaeda doesn't stop until you finish, and even then, you're crying for him to finish inside of you. Ah, inside of you? inside? He can't argue with that if it's what you want. So as your eyelids finally flutter closed, Komaeda pants on top of you. You look so vulnerable under him. Komaeda gets off of you, and he stares at the room in his mansion. He has a brief fantasy before he gets to work to clean you off.

You wake up to the smell of takeout and a shirt draped over your body. It takes you a moment to recall where you are, and then turn an unrecognizable shade of red when you recall this is Komaeda's apartment. The shirt smells like him. Wait. No. Holy fuck, you fucked your professor. You wonder if any of your past lives had done this with him before. Well, it doesn't matter since you did. You get off the bed. You're glad he didn't fuck you brainless.

"Good morning," Komaeda smiles at you.

"I can't believe I fucked my professor," You mumble a quiet thank you before biting into the rice.

"Well, a lot of things are surprising," Komaeda hums. "I canceled class today."

"Because of this?"

"Yeah," He shrugs. "Also because we start studying Solaria's art next week and I need to pull out a couple of portraits to set up the room we have class in."

"Oh, right," You stare at his kitchen. "We have class at your place."

"Mhm," He hums.

"Um... professor?"

"I believe we are well beyond formalities, Y/n-chan," He raises a brow at you in amusement.

"Komaeda."

"Nagito." He leans onto his palm, staring at you. "You had no problem with it last ni-"

"I got it," You flush red again. "What does this make us."

"Up to you," He sips on his tea.

"Up to me?"

"We could've been a hookup," He grimaces for a moment.

"Annnd there you go," Your lips curl up knowingly. "You don't want it to be a hookup."

"But even if it isn't," Komaeda places his mug down. "You can't date your professor."

"You talk as if you hadn't fallen in love with the same soul again and again." You shrug.

"So?" Komaeda reaches for a biscuit. "What do you suppose we are?"

"I wanted to say friends with benefits," You mumble. "But I suppose it'd be professor and student."

"You're not fucking me for a grade, are you?" Komaeda raises a brow in amusement.

"No," You grin. "The grades would be a bonus."

"Too bad I don't do bonuses," He smiles. "It was on the syllabus."

"Another time when not reading has come to bite me in the ass," You sigh blissfully. "So what are we?"

"At this point," Komaeda mumbles, fingers dancing up your forearm. "It's a rhetorical question. We know what we are."

"I suppose so." You mumble, eyes distant.

There's no label for the sun and the moon. Lovers, perhaps? Yet, they aren't together. The sun attends to the people and the moon attends to their stars. They chase after each other on the brief moments of eclipses and rises. The sun kisses the moon good morning when the moon kisses the sun good night. The brief moments when the sun and the moon are both in the sky is what the two of you resemble.

The moon spends his mornings waking up in the sun's arms. Komaeda spends his mornings waking up to food that isn't from a local market down the street. He wakes up to actual food, and gentle kisses on his skin. Komaeda worships you, yet you love him the same. You're the one he wakes up to in the morning, and sometimes he falls asleep in your arms. With you, Komaeda feels loved.

He counts the dots on your skin in the morning, reminding you that it's normal to stress over things. He's old with wisdom, you're young with life. Komaeda wishes that one day you could become immortal. If you did, then he wouldn't need Solaria's soul anymore. Maybe he could introduce you to his coworkers. You'd get along well with Chiaki or Hinata. You seem like you'd fit right in. Komaeda tucks your hair behind your ear as the moon lights up your skin. You're really pretty.

Komaeda feels you press gentle kisses to his face when you wake up, and then leave the room to make breakfast. You like the way the sun hugs his skin. He looks holy under the rays of the sun. Komaeda's eyes meets your half-lidded ones, a peaceful smile on your face. You look mundane; like a cup of tea in the morning with a simple breakfast. Komaeda wants to stay with you forever. He didn't mind if you were staying with him for personal gain or private lessons; You were his.

But he should know nothing ever goes his way.

He's had many meetings with his luck, after all. Each time he had loved you, you had ended up dying because of his luck, two out of the five deaths you had experienced. Komaeda should know better than that by now. He stares at himself in the mirror less nowadays. He doesn't berate himself outwardly, settling for your arms instead as you massage his scalp and work out the knots in his shoulders. Komaeda should really know better by now.

Among the many nights he stays over to study with you at your dorm, he never touches your stuff. He gets curious. Once. He peeks into your bag while you're off to grab the two of you coffee, and he's caught off guard. Carbon copies of Solaria's art. Each one was something you had asked him to see before. Were you an art thief? No. It's impossible. You couldn't have snuck something that big. You didn't even have the keys to the room to begin with. Komaeda racks his mind for an excuse. Something. He finds nothing, so he chooses to flip through the rest of the pages.

"I'm here with the order," You smile.

"Ah, thank you," Komaeda smiles. "Sorry, I wanted to see your sketches."

"Ah," Your face pales. "That sketchbook..."

He stares at you, noticing the way your skin turned white.

"The sketches... are they stolen?"

"Heavens no," You shake your head. "I could never do that to them."

"Then...?"

"Dream log," You swallow slowly. "I log scenes from my dreams."

There's a moment of silence. It's tense. The way that the string could be cut and either of you could bubble over with emotion. You aren't sure what to feel as you stare at your professor. You can see him fight back the realization. It hurts. He doesn't want to admit it. Maybe he does. Maybe he feels hurt that you hadn't told him about it. You stare at Komaeda's eyes, trying to read his emotions. Maybe you would feel better if you knew what was on his mind.

"you're the soul." Komaeda's eyes are wide with hurt, something bubbling in the back of his throat.

You stare at him, eyes swirling with emotion. You wanted to fall in love with him first as an apology for all the pain you had caused him before. You had never loved him with something romantic. It had always been a platonic love that left him longing for more. You felt bad at first. You're sure this isn't just a feeling of pity of guilt anymore. Great, the one time you actually tell him you love him, you accidentally hurt him.

"Did you... actually love me?" Komaeda stares at you.

You swallow, eyes meeting his, voice shaky. "I do. I still do."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

The sun burns anyone it grows too close to.

"It didn't seem like something important to our relationship," You avoid his eyes.

"I thought we trusted each other about everything." Komaeda stares at you, and you stare at him.

"I'm sorry for being a coward," Your voice is cracked as you put down his coffee on the table. You grab your bag, and you're out of the cafe. Komaeda stares at the coffee on the table. His chest hurts.

He isn't sure if it's from the fact that you knew you were Solaria all along or the fact that you had just left him at the coffee shop, but it hurt. He stares at the door to the store, and he sighs. He would apologize later, but he had to sort out his own thoughts first. Even if you weren't the artist or sculptor, your soul had always adored communication. Perhaps you were hurt because of how freely he communicated his feelings to you when he didn't know you were Solaria. But you weren't playing him. Perhaps you had just wanted to make up for the hurt you caused him in your past life.

Komaeda and you go about your ways. He teaches class about Solaria, masking his emotions about the artist. He didn't want to get you in trouble for something that could have been handled differently. You mask your emotions well. Had Komaeda not known what happened, he wouldn't have been able to tell that you were worse than before. He supposes he's the only one to blame for this. Maybe a part of himself had just convinced himself that Solaria could never love him. Maybe that was why he was so surprised at the revelation.

In the first life, you loved him with the love that you had for a best friend. He was the center of everything you did. Even if you had died before you could tell him that you loved him as one would love their partner; you prayed he could tell from the messy sketches and ornate paintings. The second, you had loved him with the love that an artist had for a muse. You wanted to give the stars in the sky to him, even if you couldn't. You prayed that the delicate hearts at the end of your signatures on his statues would tell him. The third, it was the love for a parent that you knew you couldn't love as anything else. He had raised you, and even if you weren't related, it was taboo to fall in love with your caretaker. The fourth, you loved him from behind the millions of cloths of fabrics. You had shown your love through the carefully crafted outfits of his. The fifth, you loved him as the sun loves the moon, quietly, without word. You had always loved Komaeda with the love that one has for their lover, but you had never told him in fear.

The two of you go back to the old cycle. Simple comments and plain questions after class. Neither of you overstep your boundaries, pretending that everything is fine when it's not. Your roommate grows concerned for you, yet you don't overstep your boundaries. The sun is supposed to burn everything that gets too close.

"Ok, dumbass," She forcibly sits you down one evening.

"Look, I-"

"I am not taking excuses right now," She glares. "Spit it out, Solaria."

You stare at her. You don't even have the energy to argue with her anymore.

"What happened between you and moon boy?"

"I told you," You hum. "We got into an argument."

"There has to be more than that. It takes a LOT to piss Komaeda off."

"It was about my identity," You sigh, changing into your sleepwear. "That was all. We're just... taking a break."

The moon freezes everything in its way.

Komaeda's words are only unpoetic when he's caught off guard. Usually, his words have a graceful ambiance around them. His words are lovely to hear; they resemble the siren's songs. His words hurt you that day. He feels awful. The urge to throw up each time he meets your eyes while teaching claws at his throat. When you stop after class to ask questions, he just wants to grab your hands and pray that you would forgive him. Yet, neither of you speak up, because the sun and moon are supposed to be in an endless cycle of chasing after each other.

Finals are around the week, and with each step you take inside of the classroom, you feel yourself grow sicker and sicker. Your stomach churns, but you still pull through the exam. Did he feel as bad as you? Was his heart clenching each time he saw you? You haven't bothered staring him in the eye since the breakup. It's the last final you have. You don't bother staying when you finish, turning in your paper to Komaeda. He stares at you, and the two of you pause for a moment.

"Thank you for this year, professor," You smile to the best of your ability.

"Ah," He flips through your page. "You missed a section."

"Sorry," You mumble. "I can-"

"It's on your mind, isn't it?" Komaeda's voice is quiet so no one else can hear. "If you want, we can grab dinner later."

You stare at him, paper in your hands crinkling.

"If you don't want to, it's fine," He smiles. "I just... want to apologize."

"I'll go," You mumble. "Where?"

"The same place as before," He hums lowly. "Stay safe."

"Of course," You sit back in your seat, pulling out your pen again to finish the final.

Komaeda feels bad. He has the urge to throw up. His stomach churns in disgust, and he stares at himself in the reflection of his laptop. He looks worse than usual. As each student turns in their test, he feels a little more of himself die. You finish your test at the same time as your roommate, and he stares at you walk off. Your roommate stays behind.

"Listen," Your roommate stares at him, eyes hard. "If you hurt Solaria again, you won't hear from any of us ever again."

"I know," Komaeda collects her test. "I know."

"We're rooting for you," She mumbles. "We've been waiting for the two of you to get together for just as long as you've been in love with them. It's their 6th life, please."

"I know," Komaeda doesn't have the confidence to meet her eyes.

Komaeda has no confidence in himself. Even as the two of you sit down to eat, it feels like the fruit is stuck in his throat, the fruit of the tree of knowledge. He wants to talk. Yet, as you stare at him and the two of you eat in silence, it's more suffocating than comforting. He's just glad you haven't gotten up to leave yet.

You stare at Komaeda, and you continue eating. His words are caught in his throat, huh? You don't rush him to talk. You needed to talk to him anyway. Your graduation was in a couple of days; it didn't matter. If he wanted to break things off, he could. You wouldn't blame him. Yet, as the two of you sit under the stars, you find yourself wishing he doesn't break anything off. You don't really want it to end. It'd be like wasting an entire life before you reincarnate again to find him again. You wonder if this life is the time you actually have to leave him.

"You mentioned once... that you had wished someone would chase after you like the sun chased the moon. You don't need someone like that," Komaeda swallows, staring to the side. His voice is quiet, but he still continues speaking. "because to me, you were my sun. Even if you had never turned back to look at me or love me like I did you for eternity. I adored each ray that was pressed onto me as you awoke life in everyone else. I never needed the stars of the sky if it meant you would look at me."

You glance at him.

"Because the world adores you. Because there's nothing worth more than you that could ever be bidded for. You were the sun of each age, turning the page to a new era. You were the Helios of the age, turning each new day and rising up to greet us in the morning," Komaeda laughs pathetically, running his fingers through his hair. "You don't need a story like the sun and the moon; because to you, everyone else is like a galaxy other than the moon. You would only turn to thank the moon as you found someone better, yet the moon wishes they were more to you. When will you learn to adore the moon like it does you?"

You stare at Komaeda, and your voice is quiet as it comes out. "The sun loves the moon, Nagito. Since centuries before, you had been deemed my moon. I was your sun. Does that not prove how much I adore you? Forgive me for being foolish and believing that you did not love me because of the stars. I love you; and I have loved you for eternity past."

His eyes widen at you, and his lips part in surprise. His eyes aren't hurt like before. He stares at you like you're a revelation. Like you're a sudden epiphany in his life. He stares at you with stars in his eyes. Like you had stopped the sun and moon's cycle to give him a longer moment of peace. Komaeda stares at you like he's in love. He stares at you like every single doubt in his life had just been a misunderstanding and that the sun had come out after a rainy day. Oh, you love him too? Was he dreaming? Oh, how could his luck finally fix him?

"As the moon loves the sun?" He stares at you, and you grasp his hand gently, giving it a squeeze.

"As the moon loves the sun."

And for the first time, the cycle stops.

#komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #dangaronpa x reader #sdr2 x reader #sdra2 x reader #☾.nsfw #☾.fics

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doctor-hopper · 4 months

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🌸 残桜 -zanka- English Translation

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Zansakura -zanka-, one of Komaeda’s character songs written and sung by Megumi Ogata, and so I started digging deeper into the lyrics only to notice there were a good handful of nuances that the English translation on the wiki didn’t quite capture. I’ve loved this song for a long time, and I thought I might try my hand at a quick translation of my own.

(Disclaimer: Though I’m studying Japanese, I am far from an expert, and I’m fairly new to translating Japanese songs. I will have surely made mistakes—if anyone more knowledgeable might disagree with a choice or see something I missed, I would love if you pointed it out!)

🌸 Lyrics

“See you again tomorrow,” I laughed—within my heart, transient cherry blossoms

A misty cloud of flowers with the hues of rising smoke beckoned me—as I finally managed to arrive,

A flower’s shadow wavered over the ripples in the water, then Fell [1]

Like the cherry blossoms opening as if to convey warmth

This life [2] that blooms in ordinariness and flutters down

Where will it land?

The hand of the ticking clock stops—from a heart in full bloom, a rain of cherry blossoms

A storm of flowers, a sudden wind—as I stopped still and opened my eyes,

Rafts of flowers had covered the surface of the water, drifting away

Like the cherry blossoms opening as if to mourn the passing spring

To live an ordinary life, and to die together [3]

If that could come true—alas…

If only the North Wind and the Sun showered down on everyone equally

When, after surmounting the storm, a great flower blooms—Hope— [4]

Before I knew it, just a single thing remained [5] for that withering branch

Plucked of its flowers and in decay, the wounds keep on thirsting, yearning

For the sake of the cherry blossoms opening as if to fight the coming winter

Until the day this ordinary life receives water [6]

It will continue blooming out of season…

🌸 Notes

[1] Written with an alternative character for “fall” that appears only here in the song, and that suggests not only falling, but also degrading or going astray.

[2] Written as “life”, but sung as “way/path”.

[3] The object of “together” is unclear—it could refer to dying along with the spring, or with another person. Discussed a little more here.

[4] Written as “big flower”, but sung as “hope”.

[5] Written with the same character for “remaining” used in the title.

[6] The verb is “to be watered/poured”. I was unsure. The previous translation went with “until the day this ordinary life is devoted”, i.e. the life itself is what gets poured out. But I think my interpretation might also work with the extended metaphor here.

#nagito komaeda #zansakura zanka #text #translation #lyrics #danganronpa #komaeda nagito #komaeda lore #megumi ogata

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sweetreserve · 2 years

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ღ — NAGITO RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

summary. idk you and nagito being cute. note: mentions of eating/food, medication.

pairing. nagito komaeda and (gender neutral) you — romantic.

genre. fluff (but ofc bits of mental illness); hurt/comfort; non-despair au.

a/n. remember when I said I would write during the summer lol anyways srry I haven’t posted the good ole serotonin ran out ;-; but here I am! decided to write something self-indulgent lol as always, apologies if there are any mistakes. hope you enjoy!

You and Nagito were friends for quite some time before entering a relationship. The man has a difficult time understanding his own emotions, especially negative ones, and you were afraid that you would make him uncomfortable if you confessed your feelings.

Nagito was closer to you than anyone else. He would always defend you if someone was rude or disrespectful, he always gave you his lunch (even if you had yours, in which case you tried to persuade him that you didn’t need his lunch and he should eat instead. You end up compromising and share lunches), and you always made sure to involve him in activities with your class.

“[Name], I understand if you would rather attend alone than with me. After all, I’m probably making everyone uncomfortable…”

You grip his hands. “Nagito, if I didn’t want you to come, I would have never mentioned the party in the first place. And you know, everyone cares about you. You’re important, and you deserve to have a good time like anyone else. Where I go, I take you! … I-If you’re okay with it, obviously.”

He lightly laughs and your heart pounds a bit harder. “Of course. Anywhere with you is always pleasant.”

Your classmates tease you when you come to the party still flustered. Nonetheless, they knew the special bond you and Nagito shared, and while some may have had reservations, they truly did care for the both of you. Things were going well!

… Until one day, Nagito began avoiding you.

“I’m sorry [Name], but it’s for the best we don’t speak to each other...”

Since then, every time you entered into his vicinity, he quickly left in the opposite direction. He looked away whenever you glanced at him. When you waited for him to walk home, he quickly and quietly ignored your presence. No acknowledgment, no greeting, and no walk home.

This came as a shock to everyone, of course. You and Nagito were always glued to the hip. So what happened? You went to Hajime for help, which led to a heavy conversation about him.

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, [Name],” Hajime said.

“But… why would he avoid me, then? Oh, Hajime, what if I accidentally hurt him?”

He shook his head. “I doubt you could do anything severe that would cause him to avoid you entirely. Maybe…” Hajime stood deep in thought. “… He realized that… You never left him…”

You frowned. “I mean, of course not. Why would that…?”

After a moment, you and Hajime looked at each other. Of course.

Nagito, the self-deprecating man, never imagined himself to find someone to love or someone to love him back. His upbringing was a cold one, and with his luck, it was no surprise that the thought of emotional attachment pushed him into a state of confusion, panic, and avoidance. You were suddenly a pillar in his life, and if you were to leave, his spirit would collapse. He was afraid, and you didn’t deserve to feel hurt by these new, unexplored emotions of his. So he left before you could say anything. Perhaps, you would forget about him. Doesn’t everyone in the end?

Of course, you had no intentions of leaving. If he didn’t want to be your friend, then so be it. But you were not leaving without having your feelings known. You told Hajime your goodbyes, and aimed to set things straight.

You finally got Nagito alone after multiple attempts of trying. His eyes were pained at your presence, expecting a scolding for leaving you. Maybe you were going to insult him. Maybe you realized what bad of a person he was all along. But you merely held his hands. He didn’t shy away.

“I think… I know why you suddenly left me, Nagito. And I respect whatever you want to do. But… But I want you to know that I never found you a burden. I want to keep spending time with you, and I don’t want you to go through things alone. You’re… someone special to me, Nagito.” You looked at him in the eyes. His eyes shined with tears. “And I want to be with you.”

For the first time, you witnessed Nagito cry in front of you. The man never let this side of him show with his normally calm and relaxed demeanor. But you knew it was because he never let himself feel and understand these unpleasant and scary emotions.

“You deserve to feel love, Nagito. I want you to be happy. If you’re happy without me, please tell me- "

“N-No! [Name], how could I be happy without you? That’s …. No. Rather, you would be happy without me.”

“That’s not true!”

“But it will. Don’t you see? Every moment you’re around me, your hope dwindles because of my luck — aha. How despairing. The longer you’re with me, the more despair corrupts your incredible hope. And you deserve someone who will uplift that hope… Not worthless scum like me.”

You hug him. “You’re not scum! If I wanted to leave you, Nagito, I wouldn’t be here. I want… want you - I don’t want… anyone else.”

You felt Nagito’s body shake in your arms. You didn’t know how, or when, you both collapsed onto the floor, but it didn’t matter. All you remembered was the sound of his heart beating, and his hair tickling your face. His face was tinted red, and you slowly caressed his cheek. At that moment, you vowed that you would never leave him, as long as he wanted you by his side. His luck would not stop you from loving him, and so he allowed your lips to press against his, despite the hammering of his heart.

The beginning of your relationship was rocky, full of push and pulls. Nagito was a lingering presence near you, hyper-alert of your proximity. This was new to him, after all. Every hug, every kiss, and every touch always started with a was this touch okay? Please let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable. Do you still love me? Am I doing something wrong -

“Nagito, love,” you say, pressing a slight kiss to his cheek. “I’m still here. It’s okay.”

His body tenses, but instead of pulling away, he gently hugs you from the waist. “… O-Okay. Only if you’re sure.”

However, once Nagito eased at your touch, and the both of you understood each other a bit more, Nagito’s true feelings finally blossomed - especially his affection for you.

He respects your boundaries, of course, and always makes sure you’re comfortable with his touches. But he cannot help feel his heart burst for your touch at random times. With a quick “is this okay?” he’ll wrap his arms around you and lean into your body. You laugh at his sudden affection, which causes him to become flustered.

“Hehe, I didn’t know you wanted to hug me this badly, Nagito.”

His cheeks burn. “Y-You said this was alright…” You feel him grow nervous.

To calm him, you place a small kiss on his nose. “Of course, I’m just teasing. I never want you to leave.”

You notice when he’s tired, he often forgets his usual rational and calm demeanor, and will flop onto your stomach and cling to your body without realizing what he’s doing. You like playing with his hair and massaging his shoulders as he slowly falls asleep on top of you. It isn’t until he wakes up that he profusely apologizes.

“I-I’m so sorry, [Name]! D-Did I do something wrong? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m such a -"

You quickly cut him off. “Nagito, you only fell asleep on me. It’s alright,” you said soothingly. “You’re very warm, anyway. Like a blanket!”

“[Name]…”

“I mean it! I promise, you did nothing wrong.” You kissed him and pulled him back toward you. “You may sleep on me as many times as you’d like.”

He sighs, but allows your touch and slowly closes his eyes.

You also realize that Nagito never spends a day without spoiling you to some degree. He’s… well, pretty rich.

“Nagito… ? What is this?”

“Oh, it’s just something I found when walking home. I thought it would look nice on you and decided to buy it.”

“… Isn’t this brand expensive?”

“… Hm, I suppose it is.”

“Nagito!”

You lightly scold him and tell him not to spend his money on such expensive gifts, especially material things. But somehow, there’s always brand new, high quality sets of markers and pens on your desk, or a new watch you meant to replace, or a new office chair to replace your old, squeaky one you’ve mentioned to him. He doesn’t stop giving you presents despite your assurances, as you were the ultimate hope of his life, and he wants to treasure you.

Nagito realizes a new world of hope just from being with you. You invite him to all sorts of places he’s never been to or things he’s never done…

… Like going to the theater! He loves to see you happy, so he has no opinions on the movie. As long as he’s with you, you could pick or do just about anything. Of course, with a bit of convincing, he’ll help you pick a movie and add his input, albeit a bit reluctantly.

Though, most of the time, the movie isn’t exactly your highest priority…

“Here, Nagito, try some!” you said, plucking a piece of popcorn and leaning towards him.

Nagito's usually absorbed in the movie and doesn't like to be distracted. However, once he hears your voice, he immediately turns toward you. “U-Um, but [Name], it’s your food…”

“Oh, we used to share food all the time! You know it’s alright.”

“But… isn’t it a bit different now?”

“… Nope! You’re still you, and I love feeding you. Here you go,” you say as you slowly inch the popcorn towards his mouth. He nods and blushes as he opens his mouth. He tries to pay attention to the rest of the movie! But it's difficult when you're around...

You also find out that despite Nagito’s luck causing accidents in the kitchen, his food is… actually pretty good? He tries making all sorts of your favorite meals when he can despite the trouble he has, and you often find him waiting for you to eat lunch together! Or go out if his food is beyond fixing. You try to convince him to eat if he’s hungry, but he can’t imagine himself eating alone anymore. Perhaps because of his feelings of isolation that slowly haunt him when he’s alone? Feelings of his life before you…?

Anyway, because he cares about you so much, and is naturally a very observant person, he’ll make sure you’re eating foods that are not only delicious, but healthy and nutritious! He sincerely doesn’t mind cooking or buying food for you, and will always come up with balanced meals! (Of course, you have to get him to eat. He sometimes forgets he also exists).

And because Nagito is observant, he notices when you forget to take any necessary medication.

Every morning he’ll place your pills on your bedside table, and he’ll ask you once you’ve eaten breakfast, or right before bed, if you’ve taken your medication. If you don’t have a schedule, he essentially creates one for you so you don’t forget to take any important doses. He always encourages you lovingly though - he doesn’t want to push your boundaries, but he also worries about your health, so expect him to be a bit concerned and motherly at times.

Reading is a hobby of Nagito’s, and you often find him reading before midnight. He has trouble sleeping due to nightmares, so reading before bed often calms him down.

Now that you’re here, though, his nights go much smoother! If you’re not embarrassed, you read his book of interest while he lays next to you, his white hair sprawled on your lap. Your voice, regardless of the way it sounds, relaxes him, and you realize after a few chapters that his breaths become slow. Nights without your voice become difficult to bear.

If it becomes a habit of you two, Nagito feels the need to read to you as well! He’s a bit nervous at first, but as he continues reading, you feel him become more confident and immersed into the story. You usually fight a battle between falling asleep to his beautiful voice or staying awake to listen to it, but sleep always overtakes you.

And when you wake up in the morning, Nagito is a koala at your side, never letting go of your body. He apologizes when he awakens, but you only hold him back tighter underneath the covers. Sometimes you pepper kisses all over his face and neck and hug him tightly, leaving a very flustered and weak Nagito. Sometimes, he tears up over the heartfelt affection. You’re intimate with him in a way he’s never experienced. And every morning feels like another miracle.

It is inevitable that Nagito will sometimes revert to his old state, isolating himself and questioning his worth. He’s much more approachable now, but his pain is nevertheless still very prevalent.

You feel him hold back a bit more, keep quiet when he normally says what’s on his mind, and wake up to an empty spot beside you. During these times, you make sure to remind him that you have no plans on leaving him.

“[Name], you shouldn’t touch me. I’m filthy. Disgusting… Don’t you see who I really am?”

You gently guide Nagito to sit on the edge of your bathtub. After turning on the faucet, you slowly remove his shirt.

“How could anyone touch such scum like me? Seeing your hope only proves that you’re too good for me…”

The warm water rushes between your fingers, and you feel a spark when your hands glide against his upper body. You rub small circles into his shoulders and back. His words tumble out slowly.

“Why would… anyone … want to see me… like this? Why…”

You work your way up to his scalp, and he ceases altogether. His eyes close, and he leans his head into your hands that lather his hair with shampoo. You whisper words of assurances.

“You’re beautiful, Nagito. Every day, I’m glad to have met you. You’re so kind, and respectful, and smart…”

You stay like that for some time, making sure he’s comfortable and relaxed as you wash him as gently and lovingly as you can. As you finish washing him, you notice his cheeks are wet. He doesn’t say anything.

“You must be cold, Nagito. Let’s get you warmed up and dry, okay?” You bring him close to you and press a small kiss on his cheek. He lets out a small sigh. “Okay…”

He cries when you shower him with such love. But he never pulls back. Every time you compliment him, he feels that it’s simply not real. But each time, with every touch, he slowly comes back to reality - a reality where you love him, and he’s allowed to love you.

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x gender neutral reader #daydreams [💭]

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fala-alfredo-pasta · 7 months

Note

What are you thoughts on Soumaeda ? Personally , it’s one of my favorite rarepairs . I like the thought of Komaeda constantly being blunt with anything and everything . Just saying shit to say it and half the time Kazuichi is like okay babe lets get you back to the mental hospital and the other half bro is just a flustered mess . Love them .

Yknow I coulda sworn I’ve written about my thoughts on these two before but I think I’m confusing it for all the times I just….thought about them extensively in my head lololol as you can guess I love them so very very much.

Soumaeda is one of those ships where you’re like: “yeah this is going to become unbalanced real fast” and you wouldn’t really be wrong honestly (but I feel that applies to most Nagito ships tbh. My boi really be out here manipulating everyone aye). But I do think the honesty aspect is their strong point—though Kaz would be the one to be the most blunt when they’re talking to each other if their interaction in Dangan S is anything to go by haha. Which is actually very refreshing because it’s evident that Kazuichi feels comfortable enough to just straight up tell Nagito his unfiltered thoughts about him:

I feel like if Kazuichi truly was scared or intimidated of Nagito, there aint no damn way he would have just been that honest to a guy he’s alone with. And while that interaction seems counterintuitive to Soumaeda, I actually really like it because 1. Kazuichi corrects himself from saying it’s not Nagito he dislikes, it’s his ideology he can’t get behind which shows he’s thought about it enough to make that clear distinction. 2. Despite how miscommunicated they are Kaz still tries to make it clear to Nagito at the end that he DOESN’T want Nagito to not talk to him. Rather he wants Nagito to talk to him more but just as a regular person rather than an Ultimate. And 3. Kazuichi has evidently thought about Nagito quite a bit considering he’s had enough time to also see how similar they are and perhaps is part of the reason why he wants to understand Nagito and be actual friends.

If anything, it really just shows how much Kazuichi has grown in his opinion on Nagito and how much he really wants to give Nagito another chance. Now, all that’s left is for Nagito to be slightly less self-depreciating enough to realize how much Kazuichi wants to be on good terms with him.

And hey look, I talk a lot of smack about the anime but if there was anything truly wonderful that came out of it, it was Nagito’s OVA and how it basically showed how much he really really wanted to be besties with Kazuichi. Or even in the regular anime itself, Kaz states he always gets hurt by Nagito’s luck when he’s around (and just him specifically) and given that Nagito’s luck tends to target those he’s close too/really cares about, one could then imply that Kaz is someone Nagito thinks fondly of to often be on the receiving end of his luck cycles. Dr3 didn’t give us much but it did give us inklings of Soumaeda and for that I am grateful.

And you know me, I’m always hung up on those friendships that develop towards romance type of ships. Its the slow burn, the build up to the pining, to the confession—and god have I’ve imagined Soumaeda going through all that a lot hahaha!

Honestly @austajunk has some great thoughts on their dynamics that I didn’t even think about until we started talking about them at length. I wish I could find some direct links to their old Soumaeda text posts but alas tumblr does not make finding them easy. But I know they’re there! If anything you can probs send Austa an ask too I’m sure they won’t mind talkin’ bout Soumaeda haha.

#anonymous #danganronpa #soumaeda #komaeda nagito #kazuichi souda #fala replies #a e i o queue

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theblackinnkeeper · 2 months

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Why I hate nagito komaeda

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that nagito is one of the most popular characters in the fandoms and is loved by many except for me so yeah this is kind of a hot take

Now I want to clarify that some of these complaints are subjective and that this is my opinion if you disagree that’s fine so let’s

Issue 1 nagito’s plans are kind of dumb

What’s is nagito’s goal? To see a great hope shine How does he intend to see it through? By pitting his classmates against each other to see who’s hope will succeed all this sounds like an interesting concept and it would be we’re it not for the small teensy weensy detail that we’re in

A (BLEEP)ING KILLING GAME

To me in a killing game the number one priority (outside of you know ending the game) is to minimize as many murders a humanly possible and for someone like nagito who wants to see hope shine brightly and to see the ultimate’s triumph over despair it really strikes me as jarring that someone like him is willing to side with the murderer potentially risking everyone’s lives after all wouldn’t it be more hopeful if every ultimate survived and overcame despair instead of putting one life over many

youtube

It’s things like this that make me question nagito especially considering how vocal he is about hope and how he’s constantly portrayed as one of the most intelligent characters in the series to me at least

Issue two nagito’s treatment of hajime

Nagito and hajime meet each other in the first few minutes of the game and hit it off instantly (curious how Komahina’s like to call hinanami forced and yet everyone in that camp swears hajime loved nagito despite knowing him for two days) then nagito reveals his darker nature hajime feels betrayed and it goes south from there. Now I am fully aware that despite hajime being annoyed with nagito throughout chapters 2 and 3 he still cared about him I ain’t denying that however it’s chapter 4 and 5 when a few red flags start rising for me

Now one thing I need to point out is that hajime was the only student that nagito genuinely cared about as a person (even during the deaths nagito’s laments were more to do with the talent as opposed to the person) so to see him treat hajime like this annoys me

Now normally somebody actually like someone is worthless isn’t enough for me to warrant their behavior as abuse heck it can even be funny at times

youtube

However if this is the only guy on the island who you cared about and you’re treating him this poorly over a subject he is very sensitive about over what basically amounts to “not knowing your place” (especially ironic considering the academy pushed him into it) I think we are going to have some problems

Now some have tried to argue that nagito doesn’t actually look down on hajime for being talented and that’s he’s actually just conflicted and I take issues with this because through the chapter nagito treats hajime how he describes a talentless person which to be blunt dead weight he acts condescending constantly tries to upstage the trial repeatedly talks down to hajime and insists he’s only good for sacrificing himself to the others

(“But hajime was ultimate despair” quiet you I’ll get their in a minute)

Issue 3 nagito’s reaction to the news

A common rebuttal towards these criticisms is that these students are ultimate despair and that we shouldn’t be so condemning of nagito and okay I suppose that’s fair however once we learn the truth in chapter six the argument is like this now

youtube

Yeah turns out the ultimate despairs were brainwashed (this isn’t a retcon look it up) which makes nagito’s whole gambit look really stupid in hindsight especially considering junko’s plan as well as considering he contributed indirectly to one of the murders

This also brings into question why nagito would trust what monokuma said because isn’t he despair? Hasn’t he been proven to be untrustworthy? Don’t you hate despair more than anything? Why are you trusting him! You should be smarter than this

Compared to asahina where I can feel more empathy towards her getting fooled because of how the situation was framed however I see no reason whatsoever for nagito to trust monokuma’s words especially since those typical lead towards disaster

Issue 4 nagito’s development (or lack therof)

Nagito has caused a lot of harm throughout the series and is the reason ai Chiaki is dead no one in the class really trusts him so what do you do with a character like this post sdr2

You give him the (bleep)ing Steven universe treatment

One of my biggest gripes with nagito’s character is how he was easily forgiven despite causing so much harm he caused to everyone

Now I’m not saying that nagito’s was the only bad person in the group by no means is that true however since these characters typically face consequences for the actions a la execution (and some even getting redemption arcs can you tell I love fuyuhiko) however nagito instant forgiveness without having to actually change or own up to his mistakes while others had to face consequences makes this especially jarring and makes this feel completely half assed

What doesn’t help is that in the same ova we learn that deep down nagito doesn’t genuinely feel this way and deep down wants to be normal and to be accepted this is good stuff and what do you do with it

youtube

More reasons why I hate the ova a lot have fans have tried to argue that he has changed subtly and one every argument I’ve seen feels like reaching especially with how limited his screen time is in the hope arc and two if he did it feels way to short to be believable

Now this is just my opinion and you can disagree if you want heck by the time i post this I expect the inbox the be filled with complaints from nagito fans within the next 10 hours or so but whatever this is why I hate nagito

#danganronpa #sdr2 #anti nagito #anti nagito komaeda #Youtube

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kmhnsecretexchange · 5 months

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Title: you can (we will) be better

Author: dedfish on AO3

For: logicdive (twitter) Pairings/Characters: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito

Rating/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Prompt: Post-Game — I feel like DR3’s ending for the cast of SDR2 is really underutilized, so it would be cool to see something going off of that! What’s it like having all these personalities crammed into a boat together to float around the ocean for the foreseeable future? It’s gotta get tense sometimes. How’s the sleeping situation? There can’t possibly be that much room in there, so maybe Hajime and Nagito are… roommates? Do they ever get off of that boat, and what kind of problems do they face with most of the world still thinking that they’re Remnants of Despair? Ships can be pretty dangerous places too, I can definitely imagine something going wrong… Lots of opportunity for hurt/comfort and relationship growth!

Author’s notes: this fic is set right after dr3’s anime, as dr2 cast+mitarai(i cant remember lore anymore) set out to sea!

i hope you all enjoy this fic! and logicdive i hope you like it too!!! (ahhhh sorry for the late post, i am still paranoid about the quality)

enjoy the fic :DD!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52595074

The scent of the sea breeze was sharp and unforgiving against Hajime’s nose. When they made the Ultimate Hope, they didn’t exactly take any considerations for their new Izuru’s comfort, expecting a machine of pure talent. Expecting Izuru.

It wasn’t like any of those scientists had gotten their own payback in the Tragedy, and grudges weren’t meant for those already long dead—long gone to whatever hell they belonged. But his sharp senses—the feeling of coolness untouched by the pollution of the Despairs against the morning’s sun—was wonderful, for a short second. And then he turned around.

Teru had managed to convince the crew to haul out a grill on deck, of all things. The plans for a celebratory barbecue were obviously in the works, fondness escaped through a small smile, but for a second, he wished it wasn’t there, the smoke annoying.

What was he thinking? He was glad that his friends could even celebrate in the first place. Their weary smiles—all of them except… Chiaki—were worth it. Even if the scent was truly awful, fat sizzling with greasy coals.

Nagito’ s presence swished into being a couple feet away, and Hajime waited until his footsteps echoed closer, before he turned around slowly.

His hair—it truly looked like clouds—bobbed along with a muted, yet not any less, cheerful smile. Happiness suited him, and Hajime let a smile out in response, waving a little.

“A toast, Hajime?” He asked, nodding to the drinks beside him. But they were—

“Cider?” Hajime leaned forward, the apples and cinnamon delicious on the wind, a relief.

Nagito let his grin fall into a half-quirk of a small smile, “Of course. How lucky I guessed a drink you would like, huh?”

Hajime couldn’t think of anything to say besides a grateful, quick thanks, and gladly took it from his hands. The mechanical one whirred, almost soundlessly, as Hajime brushed against cold metal. Nagito noticed his look, and he sighed.

“Is it truly that unsightly, Hajime?” He questioned, leaning against the ship’s railing. His coat clinked against the metal.

“No, no, it’s great—I was just wondering if we need to do maintenance—” Hajime quickly tried to backtrack, feeling his ears go bright red. Hajime of all people, making others self-conscious—

“Haha, I’m just joking,” Nagito smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he tilted his head against the sunrise, “but there you are.”

“Ah… that’s good,” the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. Hajime wondered if he asked, would it be too awkward?

“I was worried about you standing on the sidelines,” Nagito answered, surprisingly intuitive, “because, you know, you did great. And whenever Izuru used to be… bored, he looked like you.” He met Hajime’s eyes, before looking away.

“Thank you, Nagito. Really.” His denial hung at the end of sentence, but it would be a lie if he really didn’t just feel like an outsider. Just sometimes. “How much do you remember of… us? Me.”

“Enough.” He raised the glass to his lips, the light catching against crystals, and Hajime looked away. Hajime caught a sly smirk from the corner of his eye, and suspiciously glanced over, “I can, from what I remember—the hope inside of both of you, truly—it was fantastically—”

“Not again! Jeez, man. That came out of nowhere.” Hajime groaned, thunking his forehead against the railing, exasperatedly fond. He didn’t predict that today.

A chuckle rang out, low-toned but clear, besides him. Hajime tilted his head up, and watched the weak, golden sunlight play across his half-smiling, crescented seaglass eyes.

Beautiful. Wait, no, not like that! He firmly planted his face in his arms, determinedly ignoring his traitorous thoughts.

“I hope to surprise, Hajime,” Nagito’s elbow brushed against his. The ship slowly rocked against a wave, the sea’s spray crushingly loud. They had long sailed, and the journey away from the Foundation’s base had already been charted.

The silence was… nice.

And if Hajime could crystallize this moment—Ibuki’s laughter and Hiyoko’s dancing and Kazuichi’s whines and Sonia’s scolding with Tanaka’s musings for Imposter’s worry mixing into Mitarai’s giggles, Nagito’s contentment—it would be perfect.

He hoped this would be his future.

—

If Hajime had raised his head, or just looked up, he would see Nagito’s wistful tenderness, looking down on him.

He would see the slight, soft smile—but no, not yet. That was for the future too.

—

“Um, hey guys,” Hajime winced at how unsure he even sounded, “you… feeling good?” He glanced around the banquet table, attempting to plaster on confidence.

Everyone stared back at him. Hiyoko snorted, slapping Mikan’s shoulder.

“Are we a kindergarten class, you moron?” she grinned, lifting up an eyebrow.

“I certainly hope not,” Imposter whispered, barely audible. Mitarai weakly grinned and patted his shoulder.

“Ibuki feels amazing! This is a rocking boat!” Ibuki smiled, chin on her hands.

“Um… ah… yes? I agree?” Mikan uncertainly chimed in, still confused, with Hiyoko rolling her eyes.

Hajime sighed, smiling. He leaned back against the wall, and forcibly told himself to relax.

“Your complaints are noted, guys.” He briefly noticed Nagito’s white, fluffy hair from the corner of his eyes. Relax, Hajime, relax. You’re an Ultimate. “So, with the Future Foundation, we need to decide our next steps together. The way I see it, we can essentially go through with two options: Jabberwock… or back to Japan. Mixing both would be difficult, but also possible. I want all of our opinions to count.”

“Going back? But… we released that video… I mean, do I count? As part of you guys?” Mitarai asked, bags under his eyes seemingly deepening even further.

“We discussed this, commoner. Yes,” Imposter switched back to Byakuya, “you count as part of our class.”

“Yeah,” Haijime nodded, “you definitely count. The best way for us to figure this out is by discussion, but I think holding a vote would be helpful. Sonia, any suggestions?”

“Why, indeed! I think democracy is a novel idea that I certainly would love to experience!” Sonia’s eyes lit up enthusiastically, her smile beaming. However, her expression turned serious quickly. “Hajime, we should decide later, as we all, especially you, deserve rest.”

“Ha, yeah. I’ll… I mean, I think we had a good day today.” Hajime replied, a little sheepishly.

“And we’re back on a ship again!” Ibuki cheered, pumping up her hands. Chaos immediately descended, everyone’s chatter excited.

“How shall we decide on rooms?”

“Heh, how devilish. My Dark Devas and I desire to room with Sonia herself.”

“Huh? No way! We can room with the opposite gender? I refuse.”

“I AM FINE WITH WHOEVER! BAHAHAHA!”

“He’s gonna clog up our toilet again… anybody but him!”

They were kindergarteners.

“Guys,” Hajime sighed, “everyone can room with whomever they want. Not my business, but both parties have to approve. And first come, first serve for rooms.”

“Hajime… soul bro! I understand, I won’t let this chance slip by!” Kazuichi’s tears were a little excessive, but he marched off towards Sonia, obviously shooting to get a room with her.

The ruckus in the room reached new heights of noise, as everyone started pairing up. Hajime watched Tanaka and Kazuichi start arguing, and suddenly, he felt very, very tired. He slid down into a chair and felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, you were pretty quiet today too,” Hajime cracked a small, sincere smile. Nagito rolled his eyes.

“I spared everyone the torture today.”

“No, we like hearing you talk.”

“We? I’m not sure if that’s true. Mahiru holds grudges, from what I remember, and I’m sure Fuyuhiko believes me to be strange. Oh—Teru can hate me, though.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean we want you to shut up. They… changed, they don’t hate you,” because that would mean they would hate themselves for their actions too. “You can trust me when I say you should talk to them too. They’re pretty awesome.”

“Aha… I know. But you’re very kind,” Nagito responded quietly, “and… do you have a roommate yet?” Hajime looked up, opening his mouth to respond—

“Soul bro… you wanna room? Tanaka, that prick…” Kazuichi grumbled, dropping down next to him with a sigh. He looked incredibly disappointed. Hajime could guess what had happened.

“Kazuichi, I think I already have—”

Kazuichi’s eyes opened wide, jumping back and forth between Nagito’s hand and Hajime’s shoulder. A slow smile crept across his face.

“Oh. Ohhhh, I see, finally—not bad, Hajime, heh. I want you to know I support you.”

“I—what did I do? Finally?” He asked, confused. He turned to Nagito, who seemed equally as confused, judging by the furrow between the eyebrows. Kazuichi looked both elated and resolved, and about to burst into tears at any moment now.

“You don’t need to say anything, bro. You’ve got this—a bit of a… unique guy, but I can see it! Congratulations to you too, Nagito!” Kazuichi laughed, clapping them both on the back.

He turned to leave, but not before he turned to Hajime, mumbling, “And… Hajime? Erm, I’m glad you two figured it out—I was so oblivious…” Hajime just blinked, confused, “Of course, he wasn’t even interested… the girls’ swimsuits…”

He trailed off, sounding disgruntled even as he passed Hajime’s hearing range. Hajime didn’t know what to think, really.

Was there some miscommunication? It didn’t seem harmful, though, so that was excusable.

“Hajime, what just happened to him? He was weirder than usual.” Nagito’s expression twitched into an automatic smile, before falling into bewilderment. He grimaced, before he opened his eyes wide, turning ever-so-slightly pink. “Hm.”

Now, even Nagito? He was definitely missing something.

“No idea, honestly,” he stared after Kazuichi, watching him as he jerkily scooted near Nekomaru’s booming laughter.

“Then, well, would you still like to room, Hajime? I understand if I make you uncomfortable—of course, you might want to be with someone else, perhaps—I don’t want to make you do something out of obligation—”

“Of course, I want to.” Those words felt unexpectedly genuine, in a way that Hajime had difficulty adjusting to. Taking a deep breath, Hajime held out his hand. “Luggage? I don’t know where you kept yours.”

“Mm, it’s on deck. I can get it.” The breeze picked up, swirling the slight saltiness of the sea past him.

“No, please, don’t bother, Nagito. I haven’t had the time to adjust your hand yet—or do any maintenance checks for heavy weights—”

The sudden, bright burst of laughter that followed was beautiful, and it took his attention way too fast. Concerningly, it made him go blank for a second—like he was reacting, instead of knowing what and when and why and all possible escape routes and who was doing what and the Ultimates and he was the Ultimate.

It was… nice.

Nagito grinned, a small but genuine peek of joy, “Thank you, Hajime. We can do that after I get my stuff, okay? Don’t worry, Mr. Leader of Despair.”

“You…ugh… lovebirds! Get a goddamn room!” Fuyuhiko screamed, startling Hajime to attention. Had everyone else heard that?

Nagito went a bright red, like he was sunburned for a moment, before—

“Says you, baby gangster. Peko, he totallyyyy ruined the moment,” Hiyoko complained, poking Peko’s arm.

“I agree. I will remove him from this scene to let… that continue. Master? Let’s pick out our room, instead.” Fuyuhiko grumbled, but ultimately went off with Peko without another glance.

Hajime awkwardly scooted off to the side, feeling a bit embarrassed himself. He was not paying attention at all.

“Nagito?”

“Hm?” His face was still a little red, but it had settled into the impassivity he had held before. That face… was…

Maybe it was best if they left. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own choices, and it wasn’t like they were malicious, anyways.

He looked around, and no one was appearing to pay attention anyways, wrapped up in their own laughter watching Peko drag Fuyuhiko across the deck.

“Can we leave? Please?”

“Of course. Let’s do that—come on,” Nagito muttered, pulling on his arm in an uncharacteristic show of force. Hajime let himself be dragged to the open door, the wide sea still glinting blue.

He could resist. No one could beat him with his extraordinary talents. They were good enough to pull him away, to stop, to put some distance.

The Nagito in front of him was far, far better, though. Hajime followed, feeling his voice swept past him from the ocean’s winds.

—

“This place is nice,” Nagito smiled, tracing patterns on the mattresses.

The room was actually quite nice—cruise-worthy for sure, and definitely a good holdover until they decided where they would go. A thin breeze fluttered between the door, ruffling Nagito’s hair slightly. He averted his eyes; the feeling in his chest didn’t feel friendly, but not angry, either.

“I know, the Foundation gave us a good one.”

“Mhm.” Nagito bent down over the bunks, curiously leaning over the edges.

“Find anything?”

“Nope, haha, but it looks like they definitely need an Ultimate House—sorry, Janitor here. Ah,” Nagito winced and so did Hajime. Should he say something? He was the de facto leader after all, he should such address emotional vulnerability—

“You know, it’s totally fine to talk about her. She was… our—your teacher.” Hajime stared at the floor, but lifted up his gaze to Nagito’s pause.

“Then, if you don’t mind hearing, Ms. Chisa… I thought she came out safe. All those years ago, with the Foundation, once she left us,” Nagito slowly said, turning around.

“I knew you guys liked her a lot, right?” Haijime asked, feeling himself mechanically go through the motions of unpacking. He turned away; somehow, it was easier to ask when they didn’t have to address anything they said, without facial expressions that Hajime couldn’t control well.

“She brought us together,” a shuffling sound echoed through the room, “when no one else could. In part, she’s the reason—the reason why the good of us is here today. She made us into a real class.”

A seagull screeched in the distance, interrupting Hajime’s train of thought. He spoke almost automatically.

“I see. That’s completely valid, but,” And then, as a quick afterthought, “None of you guys did anything. She… the real one you guys knew… probably died in the Tragedy.”

“Yeah. We did a lot of dying.” Nagito forced out a short, painful laugh, and Haijime smoothed out a corner of his bedsheets, gathering his thoughts.

“You don’t get to say that… with us around. Either way, on the island or with the Future Foundation, we’ll make it up for the rest of our lives.” He watched as a sliver of moonlight fell onto his hands.

At least his hands were unscarred. Nagito’s soft noise of agreement rocked them into the quiet of the cruise.

“You want to go on a walk later, Hajime?”

In response, his heart almost jumped to his throat, and he felt unexpectedly flustered. What was wrong with a simple question, it didn’t mean anything besides an offer of spending time together. They walked plenty on the island, why this reaction now?

Still panicking, he replied hastily, “Tomorrow, maybe? I’m, uh, feeling sleepy. We did a lot today.” He internally face-palmed and whirled around to… stare at nothing.

“Of course. I’ll explore the ship tonight, ” Nagito patted his shoulder, almost nonchalantly, and raised an eyebrow at his stutter, but left it alone. “Goodnight, Hajime.”

“Goodnight, I guess,” Hajime called behind him, hopefully casual. He stared after him, as Nagito brushed past the door.

What was wrong with him?

—

He doesn’t sleep at all.

And for Nagito? He slips into the room at approximately whatever-o-clock, quietly rustles for a couple minutes, and doesn’t sleep either, judging from constant turning.

They stay awake, until Nagito falls asleep an hour later. Hajime doesn’t.

—

Hajime stared at the ceiling. Was he supposed to get up now? It was already morning—the windows told him that much.

He wasn’t sleepy, though. It didn’t feel close to his limit at all—according to Izuru’s memories, there wasn’t exactly a hard limit to the amount of sleep the Ultimate Hope needed.

Subhuman, huh.

Nagito rustled underneath his covers, quietly moving. He was probably awake by now too.

“You awake?” Hajime quietly whispered. If he was truly asleep, Hajime had regulated his volume to not wake him up, hopefully. Nagito huffed quietly, and he turned around, smiling.

His hair was even fluffier than usual, spread out upon the sheets, and haloing his bright, green eyes.

“Nah, of course I’m not awake. But hey, Hajime. You look… tired.” Nagito’s contented expression waned slowly, as he scanned his face.

“I didn’t get to sleep much.” Hajime smiled sheepishly, sitting up and running his hand back through his hair. “I did get some sleep though.”

“Whatever the Ultimate Ultimate says.” He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “If you’re not too sleep-deprived, how’re you thinking of a short walk? I heard it’s good for you.”

“The Ultimate Nurse, Pediatrician, and Psychologist certainly seem to think so,” Hajime smiled, gesturing out to the hallway, part of him aching to those words.

The hallway’s carpet muffled their steps, making everything that much quieter in the face of dawn. A new day.

“Do you have anywhere in particular you’d like to see? Future Foundation spared no expense on whatever cruise ship this used to be.” Nagito’s hair bobbed along every step they took, almost beige in the lamplights.

“Not particularly. I can guess how most designers would want anything.” His footsteps were always quiet anyways. He tried to deliberately make them louder, to match Nagito’s. “One thing I learned from all this is,” Nagito smiled, turning to face Hajime, “never say you know everything about anything.” His shoulders bumped against his, and Hajime narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Mhm, sure, All-Wise-And-Knowledgeable.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Nagito’s hand seemed only a whisper away and Hajime almost wanted to reach out, “but whatever floats your boat.”

“You dork.”

“The trashiest dork.” The weak sunlight brought a rose-gold tint upon everything and—well, everyone. The entire cruise ship seemed much more peaceful and calm, and Hajime could see why people got up early. On purpose, though, ugh.

“I believe that.” He joked. Hajime glanced down over the railing, watching the murky, deep blue waters. It reflected the ship’s paleness, and it was nice, too. Maybe. It looked scary, though.

“Come on,” Nagito motioned over to a glass door, “we aren’t going to brood near the sea today.”

“Aw, no,” Hajime rolled his eyes fondly, but he followed along anyway, “brooding, my favorite activity.” And, “Where are you taking me?” Hajime questioned slowly, watching the green coat bob from side to side.

Did he have a million of those? How did he manage to keep all his coats from Jabberwock?

“Well, as a part-time Ultimate, I found a pretty cool spot when I looked around last night,” Nagito turned into a smaller, more dim hallway, “and it really was quite, ha—lucky ultimately. And hopeful.”

Finally, he stopped suddenly at a simple, wooden door, where Hajime might’ve crashed into him, if he hadn’t had experience with Nagito leading him around anyways. He still almost tripped, though.

“You could be an Ultimate Joker too, with that,” Hajime groaned, slapping his forehead. How did he get stuck on a ship with this guy?

Well—rhetorical question.

“What?” Nagito frowned, opening the door. “I found it quite funny in my head.” He looked so disappointed, Hajime almost felt bad—key word, almost. But—ugh.

“It was super, erm, creative, though? I… don’t really know what else to say about it though, it just falls… sort of flat.” Hajime tried, okay.

This was exactly why he left the compliment business to literally anyone else.

“And—ow, wait, why did you stop?” Hajime grumbled, rubbing his forehead. Nagito’s hair was surprisingly fluffy.

Kinda cute.

No, no, stop this, no—not right now. He was not having those thoughts right now.

“Because we’re here, of course!” Nagito steered him to his side, happily staring around him. “I call it the Cruise of the Tough, Traumatized Ultimates: There’s a Garden!”

Real trees—a scattering of bonsai, with lavender circling around what was evidently an artificial spring of water—that were fashioned to look like an artificial garden, flowing around pebbles and drapes of flowering vines.

They stood on marble, a paved walkway winding around the sauna, with overgrown lavender and mosses peeking out between the cobblestones. In this world—in this time, it was almost untouched by the outside world.

It hadn’t been torn down by Despair, or tainted by it. A luxury even Jabberwock couldn’t count as.

…but it was tainted by a bit too much algae, judging from the thin green film across some of it. And also, what was that name Nagito just said?

“What the heck did you just call this?” Hajime blinked once. Before blinking again. He definitely heard that right.

“Hm? You mean there’s a garden? …I called it a garden.”

“With a couple other words, I think. But… I mean, thanks for showing me this. Pretty good luck, I’d say.” Hajime’s cheeks hurt. When had he broken into such a huge smile?

Nagito beamed widely, before nudging Hajime’s side. “My present for you! You’ve seemed down lately.”

“…ah. I can’t argue against that, but I thought—with the ship being down for so long, any plants would’ve been cleared out for Foundation preservation.” Hajime walked closer towards the lavender, poking it. It shook slightly.

“I thought so,” Nagito’s agreement echoed slightly. “Luckily, they missed a spot.”

The quiet peace of the impromptu visit was nice, broken only by the occasional gurgling of the spring’s waterways. It was probably clogged as hell, Hajime considered it a miracle the seawater was still being recycled back and forth, in whatever system the ship used to use for first-class passenger entertainment. Maybe he could clean it—he might as well, with all the free time they would have. With either decision.

The lavender’s buds brushed against his hands, and Nagito’s shoulders visibly relaxed. His shoulder bumped against Hajime’s, as he leaned against him. It strangely did feel casual—nice, although Hajime did notice his heartbeat speed up.

Ever so slightly, but still.

“Really, I’m glad you showed me this… Nagito. I’m happy to see this, honestly—especially since you found this place on our cruise ship?”

“Yes, of course. And what are best friends for?” Hajime stared up at Nagito, shocked. Best friends?

“We’re best friends… yeah. Uh, yeah,” Hajime felt like he was back in those earlier days before the game, stuttering and bright-faced in the face of Nagito’s friendship, “But how can I even beat this? This is… amazing.” Hajime felt like he was violently going to explode from… embarrassment, was that it?

“You don’t need to compete with me for something we both share, Hajime,” Nagito’s eyes were bright and knowing with… something, “And I just wanted to give you a place I knew to relax, sometimes. Especially with everyone deciding between Jabberwork and—”

Nagito was probably going to be the strangest best friend he had ever had. Kind of the most insane one he’d ever known, but hey. He wasn’t much better.

And—he had wanted to ask Nagito something else as well.

“Well,” Hajime rolled his eyes and turned towards Nagito, “Do yourself a favor and take breaks with me too. You hypocrite—I have no idea what thoughts go on up there.”

“Says you, leader. And kind of the whole reason we’re all alive in one—haha, mostly—hopeful piece.” He joked. Nagito elbowed him slightly, the only tell for his humor in his slight, barely noticeable smirk.

“I can’t take all the credit, you know that. What you did in the game—” Hajime tried to clarify, noticing Nagito’s expression cool.

“—what I did in the game was not… hope—argh. You know that.” Nagito’s cheer turned more strained, as he noticeably stiffened. Tension snapped into place, the atmosphere growing cold.

“I know. I’m not making excuses. I know you did terrible things, and I’m electing to also consider what good you did do,” Hajime replied, feeling slightly… angry. He didn’t want him talking about himself like that. Nagito’s arm whirred beside him as he stood up—the lavender crunched underneath him.

“I can’t do this right now, Hajime,” Nagito murmured. Tiredness overshadowed his posture, his expression cold and… terrified. “I’ll call it an early night. I’ll see you later.”

His footsteps sounded all the way to the door, before it screeched open. Nagito paused for a second, before he continued into the hallway. The footsteps disappeared then, too.

“I’ll… see you, too,” Hajime told nothingness. The door swung shut, creaking back awkwardly.

“I just… I wanted to make him feel better, at least. And, it’s not like I’m wrong—ugh, why am I like this…” Hajime buried his head in his hands, closing his eyes.

Everything just felt off. Wrong. Or maybe he was the one who was weird, instead. What was even wrong with him?

First, the isolation he felt from everyone else—that was understandable, things changed after he split with Izuru. His emotions—they kept on malfunctioning at unrelated situations. Now, his ability to even talk with his friends?

“What’s even going on?” He groaned. He raised up his head, squinting at the lavender.

The lavender rustled back, like that was supposed to be an answer.

“And why the hell am I talking to a plant!”

—

“Well, um… I don’t think you’re compromised by puberty or anything else physically? And, um, mentally, you’re still the same from our previous check-ups—I can ask for an evaluation by a psychiatrist from the Foundation. You—you probably don’t have anything wrong, still?” Mikan half-questioned, half-commanded. She flipped through his records on a clipboard, looking uncharacteristically serious.

She then looked back up. “W-What do you think you’re struggling with, Hajime?”

“I get like these… palpitations. I also get… emotional at weird times? I normally don’t feel much of anything, though,” Hajime responded, staring at his hands. He squinted at his shoes—they kinda looked dirty. And the clock was ticking. And what was this weird therapy roleplay?

Mikan blinked, slightly incredulous. “I… You’re supposed to feel emotions, n—normally. But, of course, Izuru—I would consider that as a good sign, that you’re feeling that. That you’re feeling, at least. More concerningly, moving on… when do you get these palpitations?”

Hajime sighed, slamming his head down on the table. It barely hurt. “Okay, that part’s fine—but for the interruptions, I have no idea! It just happens whenever. And I don’t think there’s a physical factor to that.”

“I read about this kind of situation! Ahaha… um… is it around… a certain guy? Maybe?” Mikan looked side to side, before leaning in. “Perhaps… Nagito?” She blushed violently, visibly excited. Was she really that interested?

“No… wait, maybe yes. It could be the feelings of friendship? But I don’t feel it around Kazuichi, or anyone else.”

Mikan blankly stared at him, before she slapped her forehead. “O—Of course. Of course, it’s and then they were roommates here. I’m literally—get out.” Her expression turned dark, almost angry, shadows looming over her eyes. She suddenly looked very much like an Ultimate Nurse… and ha… he felt like he was in danger.

“What do you mean? Get out? Wait, but you didn’t tell me why—”

“Go and talk to your best friend, Hajime. I s—swear, jeez,” Mikan rolled her eyes, looking less uncertain, “So that was the i—issue.”

“Mikan… your sarcasm, I don’t really get it—” Hajime raised his hands, flinching back from her annoyance.

“Then you don’t deserve to get it, I’m s—surrounded by the dumbest Ultimates ever.” She slammed her clipboard down on the desk, shaking in anger. “And talk to him! You adorab—agh, idiots.”

“But he got angry at me? I tried to talk about his actions in the game, and he kinda just left? I don’t know what happened!” Hajime, flustered, tried to ask. He needed to figure out what to do to fix this.

“O—oh, see now, that’s important. But still—go find him! Komaeda always likes to talk with you, and he’ll understand if you honestly just talk about it. Kids, I swear,” Mikan grumbled, before straightening up with an almost manic energy. She started shoving Hajime to the door, smiling menacingly behind him.

Shocked, Hajime could only follow along, before remembering, “And—wait! I’m bad at this stuff, what do I—”

And the door shut right in front of him. He sighed, as Mikan’s giggling faded with her retreat into her and Hiyoko’s room.

“Everyone’s insane, why did I even try.” Hajime groaned, trudging through the hallways. Time… to find Nagito. —

“Hey, Nagito? You okay to talk?” Hajime asked, slowly approaching Nagito on the ship’s deck. The evening’s sun flitted briefly over the clouds, before hiding behind the clouds again. He looked… lonely.

No better time than the present to get it over with.

“I am, of course. I would like to first apologize—” He started.

“I’m really sorry—”

“Oh.”

“Ah… yeah, both of us, I guess. But truthfully, you did nothing wrong, you… meant to say it from a sincere perspective. I reacted strangely… I just needed space.”

“I still brought up something you were uncomfortable with. And the game is a sore spot for all of us—I don’t blame you either, Nagito.” Hajime sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his head.

Nagito flashed a small smile in response, before falling back into seriousness yet again, “Still. I think we can both accept each other’s apologies?”

“Of course, yeah. Mikan literally pushed me out of her room—it was funny. ” Hajime grinned, before throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Nagito stiffened visibly, before asking, “And why—why were you in her room?”

“To ask her how to apologize to you. She was kinda weird though.”

“A—Ah, of course.” Nagito turned a slight shade of pink, looking slightly embarrassed. “I have no idea what got into me.”

“Um, yeah. Don’t worry—a common misunderstanding—you’re still definitely my best friend.” Hajime clapped his shoulder, grinning at him. Jeez, Nagito did overthink sometimes.

“Ah—yeah, best friends.” Nagito smirked, raising his eyes to the sky. “Best of friends. I’m fine with that for now.” He meaningfully looked back at Hajime, but what was that… undertone?

“I’m glad, honestly. You are. But also… I wanted to ask about you wanted to do? As well?” Hajime continued, trying to not read too much into that. Was it just him… or was that kind of… nah. Probably not, ha!

“Go ahead. Is this about where we’d head from here? For Jabberwock or back to Japan?”

“Oh, yeah. I think we’re going to meet up for it tomorrow… I just wanted to hear what you thought first.” Nagito nodded, seemingly deep in thought.

“Well, I’m for Jabberwock… actually. I don’t think what we did can ever be… redeemed. Or forgiven. And I don’t want to lose all of the class again so soon. Is it surprising?” Nagito smiled, looking down to the waves crashing against the ship. “You might’ve expected more from me—I do want consequences, but not at the cost of our lives.”

“That’s… I’m glad to hear that. It was honest.” Hajime murmured, lost in thought. He glanced at Nagito’s regretful smile. “But I was thinking about Jabberwock—and it might not be such a great idea after all.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“We’re only alive because of the Foundation’s grace—from the killing game we saw happening, it’s obvious the Foundation’s still unstable.” Hajime winced at the thought of Mitarai and the board member’s plan. “We owe them a lot, and hiding in Jabberwock while the world thinks we masterminded it all… it’s a good short-term plan, but it won’t last. Just like how we can’t blame Junko for everything we did, we can’t be blamed for everything the Foundation did.”

He looked out into the sea, watching as a seagull swooped on the horizon.

“It all gets out eventually.”

Nagito nodded approvingly, shifting towards Hajime. He let out a quiet breath of laughter, before glancing up.

“I see… you’re not wrong. I wouldn’t want the Foundation’s masterminds to escape infamy so easily either—but you propose we… go back to Japan? We will most likely get killed.”

“That’s my struggle as well. I don’t know how I can lead the class on this.” Hajime sighed.

Nagito’s eyes lit up, suddenly. He excitedly whirled around, “Not if we wait. Not if we let the world rebuild itself first. Why did we think we had two options in the first place? Since when did we let those options choose our lives?”

“That is… true. I had only thought that because…”

“Exactly, because we thought we were faced with either being cowards or getting sent to our deaths. But that’s not the case—the Foundation can bring us back from Jabberwock whenever we want.”

“Wait—yeah! If we take credit for the Foundation’s killing game for now…”

“… We can simply expose the truth of the incident later. We’ll face consequences, rightfully, for what we did do. And not only that—we’ll share what happened to us—how Junko messed us up.”

“We can’t let the world think those in despair were responsible for their actions… the brainwashing… What Hope’s Peak did ensure is that we should never have a Hope’s Peak again, but the Foundation didn’t learn from that because they refused to learn—they refused to look away from talents as the ultimate source of all Hope.”

“Especially what they did to you. And to Izuru. Talent shouldn’t ever be made like that again—and the public should know that. Hajime, what they did to you sucked.” Nagito scoffed, placing his hands on the railing.

Hajime laughed, feeling freer the first time in days. He threw his arms around Nagito in their first, real hug, and his ridiculously fluffy hair tickled his nose. Nagito was so, so warm, and this was awesome—why didn’t they hug before? Nagito let out a small, choked noise, before hugging back, gently.

“You’re amazing, Nagito.” Hajime replied, muffled in Nagito’s hair. He let himself enjoy the warmth a little longer, before raising his eyes up to meet Nagito’s.

“… And so are you,” Nagito whispered, his expression peaceful, if not a bit flushed again. Was it the wind?

“Ah, we should probably get inside. But c’mon, let’s find everyone—we got to do something.”

“I-I thought this meeting was tomorrow?”

“Well, now, it’s not.” Hajime let go… a bit regretfully. He would’ve hugged longer, but Nagito was starting to look concerningly red. “Let’s round up everyone from their rooms—I’ll take whoever I find back down into the banquet hall.”

“… Were you also referring to, uh, me?” Nagito looked confused, concerned, strangely flushed, and somehow determined at the same time, before awkwardly pointing to himself.

Sorta cute. Erm, nope, not thinking about it, not thinking about it—

“Yeah, of course.” Hajime agreed, before gently elbowing him. “Who else?”

Nagito gasped, before spinning around, with a new fire of determination within his eyes. He immediately started walking inside, grabbing Hajime’s wrist. Hajime flailed around for a second, shocked.

“Wait—wait, uh, not that fast. You don’t need to rush?” Hajime questioned, still allowing himself to be pulled along for some—no reason.

“I’ll grab anyone I see. Let’s do this. Now.” Nagito was unusually fast now, almost running.

Hajime… felt like he excited him a bit too much, with those words maybe? He sighed, still half-smiling.

“Alright—but jeez… fine. Let me go, I’ll get to the left side.”

“I’ll do the right. Prepare to be amazed by my speed.” Nagito grinned threateningly, before turning around the corner. He let go of his hand, waving goodbye and almost immediately disappearing into the hallway.

Hajime groaned. This guy, seriously…?

… He was the dorkiest dork he had ever seen.

The best one, though. Not that thought, again? Was this puberty or something?

—

The banquet door slammed shut, and with that, Hajime had an entire class of slightly startled, disgruntled, oblivious, or surprised Ultimates. Except for Peko and Fuyuhiko. Hajime had no illusions as to whether anyone could drag them to wherever the pair didn’t want to be.

“Alright, guys. Sorry for the sudden meeting.”

“—Yeah, it was sudden, alright.” Akane grumbled. “Is there any food here? I’m hungry.”

“Oh, yes, here Akane! Would you like to try my—” Teru grinned, before reaching into his pockets.

“Nah. Pass.” She instantly declined. Hajime pointedly stared at the both of them, before slapping his forehead. These kindergarteners.

“—But, Nagito and I had a bit of a revelation regarding the cruise ship’s destination. For Jabberwock, or for going back to Japan. We wanted to ask you guys what you thought about it.

“… I see this couldn’t have waited?”

“Not really… but, I do apologize for getting you guys out here so late.” Nagito chimed in, looking relatively… unapologetic.

“It was perfectly fine! Most of us were just goofing around anyways… I speak for both myself and Mahiru…” Sonia replied, perfectly composed and kind.

“I was just playing pool…”

“I FINISHED TAKING A SHIT.”

“Hajime… just kinda interrupted Imposter and my, uh, anime. It’s okay! This sounds… more important.” Mitarai muttered, looking faintly anxious. Scratch that, very anxious, judging by how much fidgeting he was doing.

“Indeed, commoner. Now—let Hajime and Nagito speak. What do you two propose?” Byakuya-Imposter questioned, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, to put it simply,” Hajime looked around the room, making eye contact with each of his friends, “We don’t have to choose Jabberwock. Or the Foundation and Japan. Because, there’s a third option—to do both.”

“That would be ideal… indeed. But how?” Sonia questioned, raising herself from her chair.

Nagito nodded, raising a hand to his chin, “We can do so by splitting our time—to go back to Jabberwock now, and to go back to support the rebuilding of the world later on.”

“But—we should just return to Japan fully. If we truly want to support our victims—”

“Princess, that is not allowable by this dark one,” Tanaka turned towards Sonia, raising his eyebrow, “Seeing as that would result in our unfortunate demise, as my visions of the future warn.”

“Tanaka—I understand but, what we did, what I did to my people—” Sonia whispered, obviously heartbroken.

“No one’s dying today. None of us will be sacrificed.” Hajime interrupted, urgently stopping her from turning towards obvious shame, “Because we’ll go to Jabberwock to outwait just that. To let the Foundation stabilize the world, to prevent any further uprisings of Despair right now.”

“And,” Nagito smoothly joined in, “We will still allow the Foundation to take responsibility later. We’ll face our consequences—with the actual good we’ll be able to do, once we’re allowed into the rebuilding of Japan.”

“You’re just going to allow the Foundation to recover then? And then come back? But wouldn’t that undo everything—everything we did that video for?” Mahiru asked, quietly motioning to them all.

“That will undo it,” Peko seriously replied, “But that might be for the best. I do not wish for Fuyuhiko to be viewed as a monster… for that too.” She glanced towards Hajime meaningfully, then stared at Nagito, before she looked away.

Hajime… understood that feeling now. Not wanting someone to be deemed guilty—in reality too.

“I think it’s a great plan, as it lets us not be killed! Or run away, right, Coach?” Akane shouted excitedly. Nekomaru laughed, a booming sort of laughter that shook the room.

“INDEED! HAHA, WE CAN LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER DAY!”

“But what if… we get sentenced to death anyways? After we rebuild the world… and we come back.” Ibuki quietly spoke up, uncharacteristically doubtful.

“Then, we’ll argue our case, and we’ll defend ourselves fairly.” Nagito put his hand on his hip, while narrowing his eyes, “Consequences—we can’t just ignore those. We also have an Ultimate Lawyer here. And the Ultimate Prosecutor, etc. …And I guess Class 78 with the Foundation will probably be willing to lend a hand. After all we’ve done.” He gestured to Hajime, who felt himself blush a little from the embarrassment.

“I’ll do my best… and I’d say, we probably have a fighting chance. Compared to what’ll happen if people find us hiding in Jabberwock, like… idiots.” Hajime sighed, leaning against Nagito’s shoulder. The future sounded tough.

“Ha… yeah… I think that sounds pretty good. And those Monokumas all across Japan, I personally wanna still go back…” Kazuichi responded, looking a bit defeated. Nekomaru patted his back, and almost knocked him over.

“Kazuichi…” Hajime whispered, almost feeling a little proud. He really had grown, huh. “And remember what we resolved at the end of the killing game?”

“We’ll keep on forging our own path to the future, you mean?” Fuyuhiko asked, furrowing a brow. “Of course.”

“Yeah, where we learn from our mistakes?” Akane laughed, emboldened.

“And we won’t hide from our actions.” Nagito’s quiet voice carried across the room, as he met Hajime’s eyes.

“Well, of course, nothing’s over then, right? We’ll have to say how everything happened,” Kazuichi muttered, somber. He raised his eyes towards Tanaka, who, curiously enough, nodded in response. There was definitely a story there.

“Haha… if you think about it, Hope’s Peak—they tried to hide everything, and it came up anyways,” Teru agreed, looking around nervously.

“An’ we can’t let them forget that! We need to remind ‘em of what happens when you do that stuff to talent—when you become Despair like that.” Akane’s mouth was completely full from the snacks, but she somehow managed to talk around it anyways.

“I sincerely agree. We should face our past, present, and future with open eyes—we shalln’t run away!” Sonia victoriously grinned, pointing her finger forward… at Mitarai? Unexpected—but all the more welcome for it, as Mitarai nodded violently.

“To be honest with you guys, I don’t even want to run away. And there’s no way I’m leaving Hajime to clean up our mess alone.” Nagito added, shifting closer to Hajime’s side

“Hehe, looks like lover boy is stuck—”

“Oh, Hiyoko! This is serious,” Mikan sternly reprimanded. She happily glanced at their intertwined hands, “…and we both,” Mikan smiled at Hiyoko, “will go back. To Jabberwock and Japan—Future Foundation—everything.”

“I’m glad. And Hajime,” Nagito peered through his eyelashes mock-shyly, “you’re coming to Japan with me, right? As my best friend?”

“Maybe,” Hajime started, before frowning, “well, actually—that’s a stupid answer. Of course.”

“But… still, thanks.” He whispered.

Did Nagito hear that—well, judging by his hand’s comforting squeeze, he did. And his gentle expression, and his pretty, teasing seaglass eyes—argh.

That bastard was so—ugh. Did best friends usually make each other blush and hold hands? Yeah, probably.

(“The gayest freaking besties I’ve ever seen… and then, they were roommates. Ugh,” Hiyoko grumbled.

“I know, that’s what I said!” Mikan whisper-shouted.)

As if hearing his thoughts, Nagito laughed quietly, before knitting their hands together. It was time to face everything and everyone, and he did feel terrified. His heartbeat was racing, pumping like it had in the trials—Nagito’s fingers were cold with anxiety. But, hey, with Class 77 all together?

Things were gonna be better.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2 #dr3

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