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It was not the fact that Chiaki’s torn flesh screamed in agony, nor was it the bullet lodged in her back, but rather the gentle tugging that mended them was what woke her. Her vision was blurry, but it caught where the sensation was coming from: a familiar young man focused entirely on stitching together the bloody mess that was her right leg.
“Ha…Hajime?” her voice was hoarse. Did her missing friend return for her? And when did he learn how to perform surgery?
The figure paused his work and looked up at her. His skin was pallid, opposite to Hajime’s warm olive tone. Yet the face was his, save for the scar that ran along his forehead and hairline, both covered by messy dark hair that reached past his waist. His red eyes, once soft hazel, pierced her like a dagger.
“Ah, you are awake,” he flatly stated. He resumed the procedure without waiting for a response. Without looking up, he asked, “I am not hurting you, am I?”
“N-no,” she answered. She attempted to assess her situation by sitting up, but her back and leg seized up in sheer pain. The back of her head thudded against the wooden table laying beneath her. It looked like they were in a quickly abandoned apartment.
“Please be careful,” he calmly said, “I have not yet gotten around to removing the bullet from your shoulder.”
“What…happened?”
“Ikusaba ambushed the Central Towa Train Station with the Spears of Gungir. Those who survived the spears were shot without prejudice.”
“What…?”
The memories returned to her. She was at the train station because of the evacuation order mandated by Hope’s Peak Academy, the premier school for gifted children. A student from the Main Course named Junko Enoshima manipulated her whole class to worship her and the concept of despair. She then convinced another student, Izuru Kamukura, the man tending to her injuries, to slaughter the entire Student Council. Not to mention the whole Reserve Course, those who had to pay to attend, committing a mass suicide at her command.
“How am I still alive?” Chiaki asked.
Izuru begun to wrap her leg in clean white bandages. “I was watching the event until I noticed you limping away from the station,” he explained, “and I saw Ikusaba shoot you.” He finished with the bandages, underneath she felt the sutures holding her aching wounds shut.
“Now,” he continued, changing the topic,” I need to remove the bullet, so I will have to flip you over in order to operate. Unfortunately, I do not have any pain medication on hand.”
“That was pretty obvious.”
“You did not wake until the end of the procedure on your leg. You have quite a high pain tolerance, Nanami.”
His delicate yet firm hands grabbed her bad leg and adjusted her onto her left side before placing her on her front. The process was agony, but she only communicated her discomfort through grunts and gritted teeth.
“Now I must sanitize the area.”
She was about to ask but the alcohol-soaked rag touched her raw flesh first, making her yelp. Trying to focus on anything else, she wanted an answer to another burning question.
“Why am I still alive?” She whispered. He was silent. She thought he did not hear her the first time. She opened her mouth to speak again.
“Ikusaba was about to murder you in the name of despair,” he interrupted. “Yet you continued to crawl.” He sliced into her shoulder. “A thought then occurred to me in that moment of observance. We had only met once, despite your insistence otherwise and calling me by a different name. But in that one interaction, you looked at me like no one ever has, including Enoshima.”
“You were my best friend…”
Izuru hesitated before continuing, allowing those words to hang in the air. “I still do not understand why you continue to say that, but my point was that you viewed me as a human being. Not as some tool to be used or a toy to be played with… I have no rational reason for my actions. I simply did not want to lose the only person who looked at me like that. Selfish, is it not?”
“It’s not selfish to save people you care about.” Chiaki winced as he dislodged the bullet from its resting place. He cleaned the wound and begun sewing it closed.
“I would not consider what I did full of care,” he huffed. “I incapacitated Ikusaba, but she managed to get a lucky shot at my face.” He pointed to the clean white bandage on his cheek. “You had passed out from blood loss at that point. I would say I was quite careless in that moment.”
He completed the stitches on her back. He slowly helped her up and gently led her to the couch. Her head spun. Everything hurt. She would have collapsed if Izuru was not supporting her. He carefully adjusted some pillows around her and laid a blanket on her lower half. He then turned to the kitchen, grabbing snacks and drinks from the pantry and fridge. He presented them to her with little flourish.
“You lost a lot of blood,” he bluntly declared. “You need to regenerate new blood cells as quickly as possible. Whoever lived here had a penchant for sugary foods and green tea. Better than nothing, I suppose.”
“Can I have some water first, please?” she pleaded.
“Of course.” He pulled a water bottle from the pile and opened it for her. “Thankfully the residents did drink water on occasion.”
Chiaki cracked a small smile. She knew he was not telling a joke, but either the delirium was setting in or a hint of her old friend had expressed himself. It would be just like Hajime to make that sort of comment.
Izuru stood up. “I need to leave now,” he said, “and I will return in a week at the latest to observe the healing rate of your injuries. In the meantime, do not leave this apartment.”
The idea of moving made her leg ache. “Not that I could, but why?”
“Enoshima’s despair campaign has spread across the city and beyond. The Remnants of Despair are still in the city, and there are an abundance of people that would kill you without hesitation. Do you understand?”
She nodded. Like a stealth mission, she thought, or a survival horror.
He nodded in return. “As long as you do not leave the apartment for any reason and make as little noise as possible, you should be safe.” Before he opened the door, he turned to look back at her. “Please get some rest, Nanami.” He slipped through the door and was gone.
After eight days of being chewed out by Enoshima’s classmates-now-zealous disciples of despair, checking on Nanami was like a vacation. He was a day later than he promised. Enoshima attempted to drug him to get him to spend the night with her. During one of the wakeful fits of his sedation, he escaped and passed out in a firebombed warehouse on the other side of the city. He still was not sure if she succeeded in her goal, but he would rather not think about it.
Let us see if Nanami has any survival instincts, he thought as he completed his lock picking and turned the apartment door handle, and if she really has what it takes to be a symbol of hope. What he saw next was possibly the most disturbing scene he had seen since the Tragedy began.
Trash. Trash was scattered across the floors, counters, and furniture. Food wrappers and bottles laid empty, some still containing bits of food and liquid. He was mildly surprised that insects had not started colonizing the living space.
There were pages torn from notebooks almost as numerous as the other types of garbage. He picked up one of the pieces. On it was scrawled a successfully solved sudoku puzzle in pencil. Center of all of the mess rested Nanami on the couch, expertly crafting yet another puzzle. She paid no mind to Izuru entering the apartment, lost entirely in the process of creating a challenge for herself.
“Nanami,” he greeted.
No response.
“Nanami?”
Nothing.
“Nanami!”
She finally noticed. “Oh hey, Kamukura,” she said to him, genuinely surprised by his appearance, “When did you get here?”
She said my name instead of his, he thought. The small gesture brought a strange little warmth into his chest.
“A couple minutes ago,” he replied, looking around the room in disgust. “Why is it such a mess in here?”
“The trashcan was too far away. Besides, it’s just me here. I’m not expecting polite company, am I?” She gave a cheeky smirk.
“No, but you should take care of a space, even if it does not belong to you,” he explained as he quickly picked up the garbage. “And may I ask about the sudoku puzzles?”
“Oh yeah! It’s been really boring being locked up by myself, which is fine but since I don’t have any gaming stuff or electricity, I fell back into one of my first interests.”
“I thought you were the Ultimate Gamer.”
“That’s a new title for me, but before video games, I really loved physical puzzles as a kid. I enjoy the challenge and the satisfaction of solving it…I guess I also needed something to help me distinguish the line between sleeping and waking, and playing video games in my head doesn’t help that…” She looked down, almost embarrassed by the reveal of this information.
Izuru paused. He found the new knowledge mildly interesting from what he had presumed about her. He tried to move on.
He returned to the topic of cleaning. “Do you not know how to clean up after yourself?”
“I do, but you told me to rest and avoid making noise. Crawling to and from the noisy trashcan would not be good for my health.” She gestured to her still wrapped leg. “I was only following doctor’s orders.”
He exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Are you always like this?”
“Pretty much. It’s what you get for saving me.”
“Please do not make me regret that decision.” He finished throwing away the trash into the squeakless hinged can, the only sounds from the items tumbling into the bag. “Is that noisy to you, Nanami?”
“Very noisy,” she answered, fighting to keep a straight face.
He shook his head at her attempt of a joke that excused her blatant laziness. “It does not matter,” he said while washing his hands at the kitchen sink, noting the low water pressure. That will make bathing more difficult. “I need to see how your body is reacting to the stitches seven days out.”
She was hesitant. “Do I have to get on the table again?”
“The couch will be fine.” He came over to her. He kneeled, carefully positioning her foot on his leg. He unravelled the bandages and revealed the healing stitches. The skin around them was lightly pink with dried blood and plasma encrusting it.
“Gross,” she commented.
“Your stitches are healing quite well. I would give them another week before their removal. Have you experienced any signs of infection?”
“My leg still hurts really bad and the stitches are starting to get itchy?”
He nodded. “It will be much longer before the wounds are fully healed internally, upwards to a year. The spears ripped through several muscle fibers. Do not expect to run anytime soon.”
“Darn, and here I was looking forward to the upcoming marathon.”
“There was not a marathon-”
“I was joking, Izuru.”
‘Just like you were with the “noisy trashcan?”’
“Exactly.”
He nodded, starting to understand the sort of humor Nanami leaned towards. He tried to ignore the returning warmth of his chest to her calling him by his first name.
“How has your shoulder been?” he asked, starting to look at her back injury.
“I can’t move my right arm above my head without it hurting.”
“The bullet tore through some muscle. Shoulder injuries are notoriously difficult to heal.”
“You should have told me that before I got shot.”
“I apologize. Foresight for every individual was not one of the talents I received.”
After silently analyzing the wound, he concluded out loud: “As with your leg, your back has healed quite well. The stitches are ready to be removed, if that is all right with you.”
“Sure,” she quietly replied.
He did his best to make the process as quick and painless as possible. “Done.”
“Izuru,” she asked, “What did you mean when you said you received your talents?”
Why did I admit that part so carelessly? He thought, somewhat caught off guard. I do not believe she is ready to hear what had to happen to create me.
“I do not wish to talk about it right now,” he bluntly stated. “We need to leave this place.”
“Huh? Why?”
“It is no longer safe. Electricity in this building has gone out, and the water will soon follow, and it will not be long before the riots reach here.”
“Riots?”
“Enoshima's efforts to spread despair across the world have been highly effective. The city is overrun with it and will not be rid of it anytime soon.”
Nanami’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” was all she said. She looked away from him.
He slowly placed his hand on hers. She remained despondent.
This is what is usually done to provide comfort to a grieving person, he thought. Why will she not acknowledge the gesture? Did I make a mistake in choosing her?
“I would like to inform you that wounds such as these need to be washed. Am I wrong to assume that you did not bathe during the time I was gone?”
She shrugged. “Guilty,” she whispered.
“Would it…be appropriate if I assisted you to the bath?”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said as he swept her up in his arms, “you are my responsibility. I saved you from near death, so I might as well keep you from that point.”
She did not fight or say a word, but a bright red blush flooded her face as he carried her to the bathroom.
After the stitches were removed, Chiaki noticed an emerging pattern. Izuru would take her to a different part of the city, live there for a few weeks to a few months, get on the move again, rinse and repeat. She had to convince him to let her wander outside once in a while, which led to him providing an extensive list of what to watch for in case he was not there to help her, including swarms of robot teddy bears known as Monokumas, named for their black and white fur. She still struggled with walking far due to her bad leg, but she was just relieved to have a little autonomy back in her life.
The time they did spend together was occupied by puzzles concocted by the two of them on notepads, a pack of cards from a looted convenience store, and attempts at conversations. Chiaki had lost her fourth game of War when Izuru asked her an unexpected question:
“What was your life like before the Tragedy?”
“Is that what they’re calling it?” she asked back. “That’s an…unfitting name for such a horrible moment. What spurred that question?”
“You are well aware that I do not view people as very interesting,” he explained as he shuffled the cards.
“Okay…and?”
“But I have begun to realize something: I have become more curious about you. Despite your boring personality and simplistic understanding of the world, I find your voice and presence comforting. I suppose I wish to learn more about you.” He gave her the cards for the round.
She scanned the cards and then him. “What do you want to know?”
He placed the first card down, a five of clubs. “I want to know how you grew up, what you were taught to believe, everything before you began attending Hope’s Peak.”
Where is this curiosity coming from? She thought. She put down a seven of diamonds and claimed his card. His whole shtick is being disinterested in everything, isn’t it?
They each grabbed a new card from the pile. He placed a queen of spades down. The only thing Chiaki had that could go against it was the queen of clubs, so she selected that card.
“Well,” she said as she set up her three down-facing cards, “I grew up here in Towa City with my dad. He was an English teacher from America before he met my mom. He became a freelance programmer before I was born, so I grew up around computers and tech stuff.”
“What about your mother?” he inquired. His three cards had the higher value and swiftly stole her four cards.
She shook her head. “She…passed away when I was a baby. He didn’t like talking about her often, but he mentioned I looked a lot like her. Outside of the hair and eye color, I never saw it. She was very pretty based on the photos I saw.”
“Interesting. Did any other family members help raise you?”
“Not really. According to my dad, mom’s family did not like that he wasn’t their ideal Japanese man and basically cut him off after she died. His family was on the other side of the world, but he chose to stay and raise me here.”
Izuru put down a ten of diamonds. “That would certainly explain some aspects of your behavior,” he said.
“Yeah, my dad didn’t know how to raise a girl by himself. Add on that my dad was autistic and I probably am too, you get a weird girl that doesn’t know how to act normal. He wasn’t a bad guy, though. He’s the reason why I got into video games.”
“I would assume so if he was the only adult figure in your childhood.”
She then remembered she was playing war and pulled a jack of spades, taking his ten. “One of the earliest memories I have was learning how to play Minesweeper on his work computer. He also got me into all the different types of puzzles, but I think I genuinely fell in love with video games. For the longest time, he never made me feel bad for loving them.”
“The way you worded that last sentence, it seems a recent change had occurred. Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not. He remarried while I was in middle school. My stepmom was also a nice, pretty lady, though she seemed disappointed at how unladylike I was. She had a son a year younger than me.”
“So you had a brother?”
“Well, he doesn’t really present himself as a boy in the conventional sense and he thought he might have been nonbinary at some point, but yeah. They are great with computers. And he was much more put together than I ever was. Or so I thought…”
“Explain.” He placed down a king of clubs.
She had no choice but to give up her two of hearts. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is,” he explained. “you referred to your brother in the present tense, while your parents in the past tense. You somehow know he is alive. You are usually not this clumsy with your words, Nanami.” He concluded with a nine of hearts.
She shuffled uncomfortably on the ground. She sacrificed another card, an eight of clubs.
“The truth is that my stepbrother is Chihiro Fujisaki,” she revealed, beginning to feel her chest tighten. “One of the Remnants of Despair.”
He nodded. “I was not aware that you two were siblings, even if it is only through marriage.”
“We didn’t really interact outside of classes. They had their own life and friends. I…sorta did too. Academically and socially, Chihiro was a better girl and daughter than I could have ever been.”
“And then Enoshima got to them and the rest of Class 78,” he finished her sentence, “creating the Remnants.”
“Yeah…”
He put down his cards. She felt his harsh gaze on her. “Do you feel as if you are responsible for your brother becoming a Remnant?”
“Yeah,” she tried to control her breathing to little effect, making her voice waver. “We were both so busy, but I should have reached out to him more. We never got the chance to get close.”
“What would you have said?”
“I would have said…I loved them. They didn’t have to pretend to be someone they weren't. And they didn’t have to prove anything to anyone…”
“Do you think that would have been enough to save Fujisaki from despair?”
“I don’t know…” She paused before placing her queen of hearts. He remained transfixed on her. “Well, are you going to beat me again or not?”
“Nanami-”
“Look,” she snapped at him, “I know I was a terrible sister and a disappointment of a daughter. I miss social cues and I don’t take care of myself like I should. I never got good grades because I would stay up all night playing obscure games online and from shady stores and those were all I talked about for the longest time. I’ve never had any close friends until I met Hajime and he-” she caught herself. “Nevermind,” she calmed herself, “Complaining won’t change how I screwed up my relationships. Let’s just play war and stop talking about this.”
She looked up at Izuru, expecting his usually bored expression. She was surprised to see his eyes softened with concern.
“Chiaki…” he started to say. “I apologize if my probing into your past opened any personal wounds. I did not intend for that in the slightest. And playing this card game does not seem to be helping.”
You think? She thought, frustrated with him. Aren’t you supposed to be hyper aware or something?
“Please forgive me, but I must ask you one more question,” Izuru said in earnest.
“What?” she gritted out from between her teeth.
“Do you believe if you could, despite everything Fujisaki has done, you would try to bring them out of his despair?”
She was caught off guard by such a question from Izuru of all people. Thankfully, it was not a difficult question.
“Yes,” she replied, “I would do everything I could to help them out of their despair.”
“And why is that?”
“Because…because they are my sibling and I believe they still have good in them.” She felt the release of tears down her face. “They, alongside the rest of their class, were struggling and were manipulated by Junko into despair. But I think they’re the only ones that can get themselves out. I don’t know if they’ll ever come back, but I want to be there for them if they do. Like the sister I should have been.”
Izuru digested the information in silence. Then he said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For your honesty. Your kindness. For your genuine hope in people in the face of despair. Despite your blatant flaws and mistakes, you are a good person, Chiaki.”
She wiped her wet cheeks with her hands. It was only after putting away the cards she realized that he had begun calling her by her first name.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT HELPING US ANYMORE?!” Enoshima’s voice echoed through what was once Hope's Peak gymnasium, now being renovated into a gaudy throne room. The Remnants glared at him with sheer malice but said nothing.
“I said what I said,” he calmly replied.
“What happened? Did you suddenly discover a conscience? Do tell,” she sarcastically asked. She sat on a red velvet couch in a pink leopard robe, a very lazy outfit for the former Ultimate Fashionista. Her red clawed hand soothingly petted one of the Remnants on her lap. He wore a dog collar labelled “Naegi” and seemed content.
They are truly shameless, he thought. I cannot believe I was convinced into joining this circus.
“Spreading despair across the world was interesting while it lasted,” he explained bluntly, “but now it is quite boring. Would you agree, Enoshima?”
“What?! No!” She screeched. “How could you be bored already?!” She threw Naegi off of her to stand. The boy stared at her confused and obviously on some substances. “We're just getting started, motherfucker! What about the world tour we’ll be going on next year?”
‘I have no interest in this “world tour” you are prattling on about.’
Like a switch, she flipped to a more cheerful expression. “Aw c’mon, Izzy! It’ll be fun. We're all going to travel the world for a year or two, dismantling governments and causing so much carnage!”
“Don’t forget about spreading despair!” One of the minions piped up.
“Thank you, Asahina!” Enoshima replied. “How could I forget such a key component to this plan? I love yooouuuu!”
The Remnants replied with discordant voices, “I love you too, Junko!” The noise involuntarily made Izuru’s skin crawl.
“Enough of this,” he stated.
“So that's it, then?” She asked in a somber tone. “You're going to leave the best thing you and this world has ever seen. What could be more important than this?”
He said nothing.
“Oh ho ho!” She giggled. “There is clearly something, or rather someone, isn't there? Is it that fat pink bitch you dislocated my dear sister Mukuro’s shoulder for?”
Ikusaba stood among her peers, silent and stoic. Her glare was sharply focused on him.
His face remained composed, but rage boiled within him. Looking back, I wish I did worse. Does Chiaki’s existence threaten them that much?
“You no longer need to worry about that girl,” he lied, “I killed her months ago.”
“Did you now? How do I know you're not lying? That's probably one of your talents.”
“The objective reality is that I stole Ikusaba’s kill and made her suffer until her last breath.”
“And how exactly did you do that?”
“By reminding her of someone she used to know and how he will never come back. Then I stabbed her.”
Enoshima pondered this information silently. For some reason, her silence was more unnerving than her threats. Then she gave him a large Cheshire grin.
“You know what? You're free to go.”
A collection of gasps, whats, and expletives erupted from the Remnants. She glared at them until they fell back into line.
Izuru bowed his head to her. “Thank you, Enoshima. I will take my leave.” He turned and walked across the scuffed wooden floor. The black and white Monokumas stood before the exit, staring him down as well. The hair on the back of his neck raised and he deftly leapt out of the path of the massive spears jutting out the ground. The robots were skewered on top of them, and he would have joined them if his reflexes were any slower.
He gingerly touched one of the spear shafts. “So predictable,” he whispered. He then continued walking towards the exit, not looking back at the monsters he used to consider allies.
Enoshima continued to scream at him. “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST LEAVE ME AND BE DONE! I'LL MAKE YOU SUFFER! I’LL MAKE SURE DESPAIR IS YOUR FIRST AND LAST FUCKING EMOTION!”
The recent fires and violent encounters brought soot and blood to the mixture of snow and ice, all to end up in the mud slurry Chiaki and Izuru had to walk through. She tried to not trip on the bodies left to freeze on the sidewalk. It had been the deadliest winter the city had ever seen, and they were barely halfway through it.
Despite the dark, she could feel the hungry, hopeless eyes of the denizens leering at her. Their gaze was more likely glued on Izuru, one of the causes of their pain. He ignored the stares and marched through the mush.
“How much further?” she asked. They had been walking since morning with no signs of stopping. The cold had sunk deep within her, making every movement jerky and tense.
“Not much further,” he replied bluntly. She knew he was not going to elaborate.
She puffed her cheeks, which also hurt with the cold. “Izuru, it is freezing and very late. I don’t think I can walk for much longer.”
“If you wish for me to carry you, you can ask.”
“I’m not asking to be carried. I’m asking to stop-”
A series of blinding colors filled the sky, followed by explosions that shook the ground. She covered her ears. Izuru quickly led her to an empty house nearby. The roof and walls did not keep the cold away, but they blocked most of the biting wind. It would be a tolerable place to spend the night.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, ears ringing and seeing spots, as they settled onto the floor.
“Probably Enoshima’s New Years celebration or her twisted version of one,” he answered, “I tried to get you as far away from the city center, but it seems it was not far enough.”
Wait. “Did you say it was New Years?” There was no way it was that time already.
He curtly nodded. “Correct. It is currently January 1st, 12:17 A.M.”
“Oh, um, happy birthday, I guess…” she awkwardly stated.
He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Does he not know his own birthday? She thought. “What do you think I meant?”
“Are you referring to the day I awoke as Izuru Kamukura? That was a process that occurred over the course of months-”
“I meant the day you were born.”
He blinked. “I was born today?” He asked the question as if the notion of having a set day of birth was possible for him.
“Well, I mean your physical body was born today. I think it's your eighteenth birthday.” She tried to avoid referring to Hajime. She had accepted that Izuru was not Hajime, and Hajime was never going to come back. Izuru always seemed uncomfortable every time she brought that subject up. Oh god, why did I even bring the birthday thing up?
Izuru was silent, pondering the news as another round of bombs shattered the sky. Chiaki ducked for cover while he remained standing. Her wrist was grabbed and led down to what used to be the house’s basement. He closed the door behind her, cloaking them in complete darkness. The room was frigid, musty, and cramped, but the explosions were muted.
A loud crack beside her made her jump, but it was only Izuru, holding a neon green glowstick out to her.
“You had that on you this whole time?” she asked.
“I have several more in different colors if you prefer something else,” he answered, beginning to rummage through his other pockets.
“Green is fine, thank you.” She slid to the dusty floor, her back to the wall. Izuru did the same. The hours spent hiking across the city was finally getting to her. Cold or not, she was ready to close her eyes and sleep.
“Chiaki?” Izuru quietly asked.
“Yeah?”
“I have been meaning to talk to you about this, but who was Hajime Hinata?”
Her eyes shot open and turned to Izuru. He was kidding, right?
“Wh-why do you ask?”
“Well, when we first met, you called me Hajime. You called me that a few more times on accident, especially after the incident with Ikusaba. And it is usually obvious whenever you think about him. You get this sorrowful look in your eyes when you look at me. I know that he was important to you and was, perhaps, more than a friend.”
She was grateful that the little light they had did not reveal her blushing. She could not believe that she was so easy to read. She hesitated saying anything. But Izuru Kamukura, allegedly created by Hope’s Peak Academy, had no idea where he actually came from. She had assumed that he did not care, but the truth might have been that he did not think to ask. This may have been the first time he was remotely curious about his past, and she pitied him.
“Okay,” she replied, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about him. Where should I start?”
He paused to think. “Perhaps when you first met him?”
She nodded. “I first met Hajime at Hope’s Peak. I was in the Main Course and he was in the Reserve Course.”
“Ugh.” Even before the Tragedy, there was constant friction between the Main Course, the students with assigned talents that were chosen to attend, and the Reserve Course, the students considered “normal” and paid their way in. Izuru clearly still thought lowly of them, despite their horrific deaths that he directly caused.
“Keep an open mind, would you?”
“Fine,” he groaned.
She began to describe what Hajime looked like: short spikey hair that shot out in all directions, light olive skin, sharp hazel eyes that changed from green to gold in the light, tall and lanky, the sweetest smile if you could get him to do it. She moved on to what he was really like. Blunt, sassy, stubborn, dense, short-tempered, swore a lot, yet intelligent, a bit of a poet, brave, kind, the type to listen to anyone about their problems. She smiled, reminiscing the memories. They only knew each other for less than a year, but she felt like she knew him her whole life.
She glanced down at the glowstick. “I tried to tell him that there was more to life than being considered talented. If only I knew how deep his insecurities went…and if I were a better friend…Maybe I could have done more…like with Chihiro…” She fell silent.
Izuru wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She blushed again at the unexpected gesture, still thankful for the dark.
His facial expression was neutral, though his eyes had softened considerably. “You were shivering,” he explained, “We will have to conserve body heat, if that is alright with you.”
She doubted that was the true reason. Yawning, she brought his face to her lips, kissing the faded scar on his cheek.
“Happy birthday, Izuru…”
“...Thank you, Chiaki…”
Izuru held the back of his hand to Chiaki’s forehead. No fever. She laid on a barren mattress, curled up into a ball. She had spent the last week with awful nausea. She only slept half the night, the rest of it spent throwing up bile and what little dinner she was able to eat. He had stayed awake alongside her.
“Well, you do not have a fever,” he told her, “but that does not rule out other illnesses.”
“I could have eaten something bad,” she responded weakly. The exhaustion in her voice was palpable.
“Unlikely. I have ensured that all of the food and water we find is clean enough for consumption.”
“Okay, but there was definitely something wrong with the eggs we ate last night.”
What was wrong with the eggs? He curiously raised a brow at her.
“Did they not somehow feel all slimy and grainy at the same time to you? The taste was all sulfury and gross. Did you add something?”
“No, I did not.”
“Then it had to be the rice. Every time we’ve had rice this week I…” She shook her head. She put her hand to her mouth, as if the very thought of rice made her ill.
Izuru did not recall the texture or taste of any of their meals being off in the slightest. He tried to remember if the ingredients they had gathered had anything questionable about them, down to the finest details. He quickly realized that it might not be the food that was making her sick.
He felt like cotton was being stuffed down his throat as he struggled to speak. “Chiaki, do you remember…when we were…intimate a month and a half ago?”
A small smile formed on her face. “How could I not? The most awkward sex between two young adults, one that’s supposed to be talented at everything, in the history of forever, an experience both of us will probably be haunted by for the rest of our lives?” She said in a wistful tone.
Outside the annoyance at her disparaging comments about a rather mediocre sexual encounter, he stared at her with genuine concern. His heart was ready to rattle out of his chest, keeping him from forming a coherent thought.
Her face began to mirror that same sentiment. “Wait, you seriously don’t think…”
He remained silent.
“But we only did it once!” She rose from her resting place. “I had just finished my period…and it wasn’t even that fun!”
“I get it!” he snapped. “Bad sex between two individuals does not remove the possibility of pregnancy. Can we move past this, please?”
“There’s no way…” She held her head in her hands, fighting the growing panic that was clearly evident.
Izuru placed a hand on her arm in an attempt to comfort her. “Chiaki,” he said solemnly, “I am…so very sorry to have put you in this position…With how the world is…now bringing a child into it…”
He was not certain if it was the summer heat that was making him sweat anymore. What are these sensations? He thought frantically. And why are they keeping me from speaking coherently? All he could focus on was his own heartbeat, ringing faster and louder than he had ever felt it before.
He nearly jumped when Chiaki grabbed his hand and held it in hers. “Hey, it’s okay,” she softly spoke. “I’m scared too, but we’ll get through this together.”
Is that what I am experiencing? Fear? Over this of all things?
He shook his head. “No, I do not desire to watch you experience months of torment. This past week has shown that in blatant detail. Plus, it would not be ideal to keep a pregnancy in these conditions, as well as adding another mouth to feed.”
“But what if I want to keep it?” Her eyes sparkled with a stubbornness he had not seen in her before.
He could not believe what he was hearing. “Chiaki, are you not listening? Something could go seriously wrong medically and I…”
“What is it, Izuru?”
He felt weak while uttering the words. “I…might not be able…to help you.” He had only discovered the concept of fear and he already hated it.
Her eyes were full of sympathy and understanding. “Izuru, that is a risk I am willing to take. I want to keep our baby.”
Our baby… he thought with incredulity. She has lost her mind.
He sighed a breath he did not know that he was keeping in. “Alright,” he finally said, “I will support you during this ordeal, but if I notice any sign of physical harm to you, I will perform an abortion whether you want it or not.”
She hugged him. “Thank you for letting me have this,” her voice cracked.
“I hope you do not consider this decision lightly.” He was dubious, but if there was someone he would tolerate having a child with, Chiak Nanami was not the worst option.
Aside from dealing with pregnancy symptoms and the apocalyptic cityscape, Chiaki was pleasantly surprised with how uneventful the first three months were. She appreciated Izuru’s attentiveness to her health and needs, though he was overbearing at times.
Sometimes she liked to imagine Hajime’s reaction to them having a baby. He seemed like the type to panic, but she assumed he would share her excitement. The thought exercise usually ended with her in tears, missing her old friend more than ever. Izuru never pressed the issue, so they never talked about it.
They still had to move from place to place to avoid the Monokuma patrols, their numbers growing by the day. The distance they could travel grew shorter as it progressed. Her formerly bad leg gave her a lot of grief, as well as other aches and fatigue becoming commonplace. Izuru explained to her that her ligaments were loosening up in preparation of pushing a baby out of her body six months from now, which can cause old injuries to flare up. She did not enjoy being in pain all the time, but she marveled at her transformation with a sense of fear and wonder.
“I wish we could have reached a better place to rest,” Izuru grumbled as they settled for the night.
“At least it’s spacious,” she remarked.
The abandoned office building they were staying in had most of the windows missing, allowing the final days of summer to flow through it. Any resemblance to an office it might have had was broken and thrown across the floor.
The pair finished a simple meal from cans collected that day. Izuru kneeled before her, his gaze intense as always.
“Chiaki, with your permission, would you allow me to test something?” he asked.
“That depends on what you want to test,” she said.
“I simply want to see if I can hear the fetus’s heartbeat.”
She smirked. “Is that your excuse to touch the bump?” The bump in question was barely noticeable with a loose shirt on, but she noticed her hands going to her belly more frequently without much thought. Whether they actually wanted it or not, this baby was becoming more of a reality with each passing day.
He stared at her. “Chiaki, I am not some fool that is enamored by the process of pregnancy. I want to ensure it is alive and not going to kill you.”
“You talk about it like it’s an alien parasite.”
“Evolutionarily speaking, it is.”
“Hey, that’s our alien parasite you’re talking about.”
He huffed in annoyance. “Your nonchalance about that fact is concerning. Are you going to allow me to use my enhanced hearing or not?”
She held her hands away from her body. “Listen away.”
He placed his hands on her waist and his left ear on her stomach. Despite his claims of not being “enamored,” she could have sworn that his stern face slightly softened.
“I do hear a heartbeat,” he said.
“That’s a relief,” she replied with a giggle, “Otherwise, the little movements I’ve been feeling in the last week would have had me worried.”
He paused to look at her. “You have been experiencing fetal movement for the past week and did not once think to tell me about it? You are seventeen weeks pregnant, Chiaki. You have to notify me about these significant developments.” He actually seemed offended by this withholding of knowledge.
Her smile dropped. “I didn’t think you would be interested. I know you haven’t been thrilled about my choice to keep the baby.”
He sighed. “While yes, I have not been enthusiastic about this process,” he explained, “I was the one who got you into this situation, so the least I can do is take care of you until it is resolved.” He spoke as if he were trying to solve a problem rather than his own unborn child. He resumed his listening to the heartbeat and the room fell silent.
“Do you want to hear some names I’ve been thinking about?” She awkwardly asked.
“Why?” he asked back. “They might not like whatever names you come up with and have to change them later. Quite the inconvenience, if you ask me.” He moved his head to the right side of her belly, trying to discern what he was hearing.
“I at least want to give them a name to start off with,” she retorted, “and they’re only suggestions.”
Taking his silence as a sort of yes, she continued. “Anyway, if it’s a girl, I want to name her Hatsukoi. If it’s a boy, I like the name Hizashi.” She figured if Hajime Hinata could not be there, the least she could do is name their child after him as a way to honor his memory.
“And if there were more than one?”
Confused, Chiaki looked down at him. “What do you mean?”
Izuru spoke with a serious tone, “I mean, if there was a second fetus inside you at this very moment, what would you do?”
What? Her mouth went dry. “I-i thought you didn’t like telling jokes, because that would be a terrible one to start off with.”
“Nanami, there is a second heartbeat.”
“How do you know that’s not my own heart beating?” She felt hers going faster than she was used to.
He got himself out of the position he was in, now sitting directly in front of her.
“Then allow me to explain,” he stated calmly. He placed a hand on the left side of her belly. “I heard a heartbeat on this side, even felt some movements.” He placed his other hand on the right side. “I also heard a heartbeat on this side at a different rate and movements alongside the other one.” He moved his hand to her chest. “Then there is the heartbeat that rang in the background of the other two: yours. Strong and steady, despite this surprising information.”
Her heart did not feel strong and steady to her. She shakily removed his hand from her chest and held it with both of her hands. “We’re having twins? Did you know before this?” She was barely speaking above a whisper.
Sensing the terror, he gently wrapped his hands around hers. “I suspected something when I noticed the diameter of your stomach was larger than it should have been at this stage, even with the additional weight gain,” he softly reasoned, “though today was the first time I was able to confirm my theory. But as of this moment, yes. We are having twins.” He allowed the gravity of the situation to sink in for her, perhaps even for himself.
After what felt like eternal silence, he finally spoke. “Chiaki, if you feel that you cannot continue with the pregnancy…because of the strain it would place on your body, more than it already has…and then raising two children…” he paused to clear his throat. “My offer still stands, though an abortion at this stage or later would be a higher risk procedure. I will support you regardless of your decision.”
She looked away from him, removing her hands from his hold. She let them rest on her belly, the bubbly sensations now representing two lives inside her. She kept the pregnancy in the vain hope of keeping Hajime’s legacy alive in any way possible, even in a world that seemed determined to forget his existence. It dawned on her then the cost of such a decision and how impulsively, maybe even selfishly, she had made it.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Izuru, I was already scared when I found out I was pregnant,” she answered, “and somehow I’m even more scared. I know this is selfish of me, but I want to see this through to the end. I have nothing else left to lose in this life.” She did not notice she was crying until he was wiping the tears away from her cheeks.
He then awkwardly raised his arms. “Do you need a hug?” he flatly asked.
The way the question was presented was absurd, yet she knew it was genuine. She threw herself into him, the crying beginning anew. Later, they slept in each other’s arms that night, the first since their sexual interaction, Izuru laying a protective hand on her stomach. Despite his denial, in his own strange way, he cared about them. All three of them.
The dust had not yet settled when Izuru began digging through the rubble of a post-Monokuma attack. Why did he allow Chiaki to convince him to return to the house they spent New Years in? Yes, she was nearly four months pregnant with twins, she had not slept well the night prior, her leg was aching horribly after an hour and a half of walking, and they happened to be passing the house while all these things were occurring, but he should have just carried her to a safer location. He should have stayed with her instead of scoping out an alternative place to spend the night.
He was able to push aside the smoldering timbers and crumbled walls. No sign of Chiaki yet. He reached what was once the kitchen, showered in shingles and glass. Her singed hoodie laid across the wreckage. Part of the concrete wall fell through the floor.
The cellar! He frantically thought. She must have gone down there for protection. She might be down there.
“Chiaki,” he called out through the hole made by the collapsed wall, “Chiaki!”
Hearing no response, he shoved away everything covering the cellar entrance, if it was still there. It took longer than he would have liked. The moment he saw the trap door he threw it open, nearly ripping it from its hinges. More dust and rubble greeted him in the cellar, most of it caved in.
He furiously dug through the piles of rock in his way for what felt like ages. Despite his strength and stamina, a heavy ache was setting in his arms and back. The sweat stung his eyes and open wounds acquired from the excavation.
There was no trace of Chiaki, not even a drop of blood save for his own, in the cellar. He released a dusty, defeated cough and closed his eyes. He had no clue where she could have gone. How could he have allowed for this to happen?
“Izuru?” A quiet voice asked from above. He squinted up at the entrance. Chiaki stood at the threshold, eyes full of worry.
Instinct took over and he bounded up the stairs, wrapping her arms around her. She almost fell back from the force of his hug. He pulled away and held her with manic eyes.
He began firing questions at her while quickly assessing her body for any injuries. “What happened? Where did you go? Are you okay? Are the children-”
“Hey, calm down!” she told him, cupping his face in her hands. “I heard some commotion outside, and it was some nice folks listening to the radio.”
“Radio?”
“Yeah, after Junko and the Remnants left the city, there’s a guy with a radio show that keeps track of all the Monokuma patrols,” she explained. “Anyway, the survivors have created designated bunkers in case of those patrols. I wasn’t given much choice in staying at the house.”
“I thought you were buried alive,” he said breathlessly, “and I did not want that tiny cellar to be your final resting place.” His arms drooped to his sides.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She tenderly picked up his hands but paused. His hands were bloody, raw, and filthy from digging. He could barely feel them. He then noticed during his assessment of her, he had smeared dark red handprints all over her body.
“I apologize for the mess,” he mumbled. The adrenaline was seeping out of his body, leaving him exhausted and barely able to think. All of this from the remote possibility of Chiaki being dead. He felt like a feral animal worn down from a long chase. Was that…was that what true fear felt like?
“You keep the gauze in your left pocket, right?” Her question interrupted the spiral he felt himself going down.
“No, that’s where I keep my knife,” he blankly responded, “It would be on the right side. Why?”
“Actually, that’s perfect.” She grabbed the small pocket knife and then reached for the gauze. She began slicing long pieces and crudely wrapped his hands with them. He did not have the brain power to critique how poor a job she did.
She then began to lead him away from the wreckage. The sky was orange from the sun setting. It was bright blue when Izuru found the destroyed home.
“I spent over three hours digging with my bare hands,” he muttered.
“Then let me take care of you,” she replied sweetly. “I saw an apartment complex still standing when I left the bunker. I think we can stay there for however long you need to rest.”
He silently nodded. He should have been relieved that his friend was unscathed. Instead, he could not shake how he felt like a failure to her. He was supposed to be the Ultimate Hope, yet the idea of not being able to be there for her nearly broke him.
When Chiaki woke up the following morning, it was not under a stained popcorn ceiling, but rather an open blue sky.
She found herself under an outcropping of stone, colored with moss and erosion over the course of years. The autumn breeze blew cold but the sunrays that reached her gave a little bit of warmth.
It was disorienting, to say the least.
“Izuru?” She asked out loud. “Izuru, are you here?”
No response.
He must have brought me here during the night, she reasoned to herself, though he really should have been resting after the incident instead of…whatever he does when he's out.
She noticed their supply bag and rummaged through it for any food that could be eaten right away. They could make a meal later. As she nibbled on some sweet bread, she spotted something else poking out of the bag. She pulled out what was a nearly folded piece of paper, unintentionally crumpled by her. She began reading the note:
Chiaki, I am sorry for doing this, but our time together has come to an end. I know I promised I would be there for you, but I am afraid I can no longer do so. I am not leaving because I think you are weak. Rather, it is because of my own weakness. Despite all of my talents and abilities, I cannot be in multiple places at once. I would never forgive myself if you could not find an escape. Even if I did stay, I would continue to be in the shadow of a man you loved but no longer exists. I must confess that when I rescued you over a year ago, I did it under the belief that you could embody hope in the face of Enoshima’s despair. Instead, I learned you were a quiet, complicated person that I think I grew to love. You and the children will be better off without me. The forest is unknown but you will find safety there. Knowing you, you will succeed. I will never forget you. I do not blame you if you wished to forget me.
Her vision blurred and she felt the tears falling from her face. Her body racked with sobs. The light kicking inside her was the only thing keeping her from fully spiraling. She tenderly touched her side in an attempt to calm the sensation. It was the strongest feeling from the babies yet, like they were trying to offer some comfort in the face of such a crushing revelation.
“Thanks guys,” she said aloud with a faint smile, “I guess it will just be us for a while.”
She weighed the words in her mind. She wanted to be sympathetic to his fears and worries, but the patience ran out. She did not hate him, she could not, though she felt bitter bile build at the back of her throat at the thought of him. She knew she could not stay there and wallow in misery.
You saved my life, cared for me, knocked me up, and you expect me to just forget you? Her sorrow transformed into a growing rage. She was close to screaming at the sky. I can't believe I nearly fell in love with him. Though he is right. I have to live. For myself. For the twins. For Hajime…
Faced with the options of waiting for trouble or going into the forest, she got the pack ready and set on her back. She crossed the brown field of grass to the trees.
The forest is unknown but you will find safety there.
She took a deep breath. A year and a half together, and this is how it ends? She thought, clutching the letter in her hand. He couldn't even say goodbye.
Chiaki had to live. For herself. For the twins. For Hajime.