A/N: Just a bit of Hinata introspection.

Also, welcome, myself, to the Danganronpa fandom. I wrote this in a rather dire emotional state, so I'm not sure how I did with the characters, but eh. You can imply whatever you want into this, if you want. Or don't, if you don't want to. I don't mind.

That being said, I like KomaHina. The pairing itself, not the characters. Sounds weird, right?

Also, unbeta'd. As usual.

Enjoy.

Word count: 1321

Was it really worth the effort?

Hajime Hinata wondered. It had been God-knows-only how long days since Monokuma had them trapped on this island, and he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the dragging feeling that whatever he and his classmates were doing right now was going nowhere.

Sure, keeping up a façade of hope was still essential in front of the others, but in the past few days, it had more and more frequently occurred to him that maybe giving up would be the easier way out. It seemed as though nobody was trying anymore—aside from Nanami, probably—so what was the point of chasing after something that was not desired?

Although, it may have just been his desperate mind telling him this. Hinata didn't know anymore.

Of course, even Hinata couldn't deny the possibility of having the killings end abruptly, but deep down, he was painfully aware that it was his naivety playing a cruel game with his emotions. After all, if it had happened twice, who's to say it wouldn't happen again and again? If Monokuma was able to persuade them to abandon their morals twice, then he surely could thrice.

So, what was the point of fighting against fate, if the outcome could not be changed?

Hinata hadn't believed in fate; at least, not until now. He devotedly—stubbornly, even—believe that the future could be molded to his heart's desire if he tried hard enough. But how could it be changed when he was just a chess piece on somebody else's board? When you're not the one playing the game, you're no better than a non-sentient being, left to obey the orders like the subordinate you are.

Although, these dark thoughts may have come as a by-product of that day's execution.

"The stars are pretty tonight, aren't they?" came a voice from beside Hinata. The boy jumped a little and yelped in surprise, but it was also then that he realised he had been so engrossed in his own misery that he didn't even notice the boy sitting next to him.

"Komaeda," Hinata said, flicking his gaze briefly to the person beside him, "what do you want?"

Komaeda shrugged. "You seemed lonely. What are you doing here this late?"

"Couldn't sleep," came the brief answer, "so I came here to think."

"I see."

A few silent moments passed, making Hinata feel increasingly awkward. His mind—involuntarily so—wandered back to the day he had woken up on the island.

Where did it go wrong?

Oh, right, when Komaeda decided to turn go full psycho, he answered his own question inwardly, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat.

He hadn't thought about it much, but deep down, he as aware that he was hurting. Hurting because of a variety of different aspects, that is. It hurt to see his classmates turning against each other so easily, and it hurt that no matter what he did, he was still nothing more than a mere spectator in a battle of wills. And, although he was wary to admit it, he kind of missed the time when everything had been fine between him and Komaeda.

They had been friends once, after all.

How improbable it would be if he was thinking about the same thing, though, Hinata thought.

As Hinata opened his mouth to ask something from his company, he was cut off by the other boy's words.

"You know, I like watching the stars. They're free, so they can wander wherever they want," he said. That's that for having similar thoughts then, Hinata concluded with an even more bitter tone than before. "Or maybe I'm just being overly sentimental. After all, freedom is worth nothing as long as you have hope."

Isn't freedom hope itself, though? What is hope, really? Does it even matter what it is?

It was as if a brick wall was threatening to crumble right on top of Hinata's head. The situation made less and less sense, as did his morals and thoughts.

"As long as we're stuck on this island, there's no point in asking these questions, is there?" Hinata replied, both to Komaeda and himself, his voice tainted with bitterness from before.

"Perhaps," Komaeda said. "But you can't have yourself stuck on such mundane things as the killing or the despair coming from them, Hinata-kun. After all, they're so miniscule in the grand scheme of things. The big picture is always filled to the brim with hope, and despair is only a little detail on the canvas, can't you see?"

"That's an easy thing for you to say," Hinata borderline spat the words, "but it's more complicated for the rest of us. What's the point of looking at the big picture if we get lost, if we lose people between the details?"

Komaeda flapped down onto his back, his greenish-grey eyes fixated on the stars lighting up the pitch black sky.

"Achieving a greater good takes sacrifices, Hinata-kun," he said, his voice somewhat distant. "It's better than running around in circles, don't you think?"

"It's not when moving ahead means more people being killed," Hinata grumbled to himself. "Do you think this is hope, Komaeda?"

"Perhaps," came the very ambiguous and upsetting answer. "That's something for you to decide. Who am I to tell, anyway? There's only one thing I know, and it's that hope always overcomes despair."

"Even if it does, I'm not feeling like it's worth it," Hinata pointed out, and he really didn't. What was the point? What were they fighting for? Were they even fighting for anything?

If he were to put words into an image, he would have described his current feelings as an endless, dark tunnel, where he knew he was going somewhere, but because of the lack of light, he was unsure which direction was which.

He sighed. "Can't I just give up?" He was tired of this: of the island, of Monokuma, of the murders, of Komaeda's nonsensical ramblings, of everything.

Stunned silence greeted his words, which then molded into a weary, almost desperate kind of silence. Komaeda didn't say anything for a while, but Hinata could see he was contemplating. After what seemed like hours, the white-haired boy sighed too.

"Of course not," he said, "but why are you asking me this? A lowly being like me wouldn't know."

"I wish you'd stop this," Hinata said. "Maybe you would know if you didn't alienate yourself that much from the class."

"I can't help it," came the answer, along with a lopsided grin. "How would it look if I hung out with you guys? Preposterous."

"I'd rather you rethought these choices of yours," Hinata replied. "Sooner or later, you'll have to realise that degrading yourself does not help us. In fact-"

It only worsens the situation, he added silently.

"Is that why you want to give up?"

Hinata shrugged. "Maybe. That's something for you to decide," he said, the all too familiar bitterness, mixed with a hint of sarcasm dripping from his voice.

With another sigh, Hinata pushed himself into a standing position, dusting off his clothes in the process.

"I'll go back to the cottages. You do whatever you want," he said.

If he was going to be truthful, his mood was no better than how it had been when he decided to take a late night's walk. He felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and he wanted nothing more than to end this feeling as soon as possible. It didn't how, he just wanted this so-called 'school trip' to be over and done with, for good.

As he made his way away from the shore, he glanced back briefly at the lying form of his classmate.

"You know, Komaeda," he said, noticing that the other boy had his gaze fixed on him with raised eyebrows, "I hope we can be friends again, sometime."

Or something like that, he thought.