Tsumiki's expressions still haunt him.
Even now, he can't get her out of his mind.
No, that wasn't right. It wasn't just "even now."
Now more than ever, he can't get her out of his mind.
He was... Yes. He just might have been afraid.
He didn't fear death. He would welcome it with open arms if it came in the name of hope.
What he feared was turning. What he feared was what laid on the other side.
What he feared was becoming like her.
He understood hope and despair better than all of them.
If they were despair, then the answer was obvious.
He had to kill all of them.
It was a shame he couldn't express it to them.
They wouldn't understand.
No, that wasn't right. He didn't want them to understand. Or maybe he did. It would all depend on his luck, he supposed.
This was his love for them. His unyielding, everlasting adoration of them, of the hope that they should have eternally shone on the world.
His twisted, disgusting form of love. It was the only kind someone like him had to offer.
They all had to die. That was the only way they could be saved from the truth of themselves.
And if they survived his plan... well... then at least his worthless life would make for a truly worthy stepping stone towards true hope.
If they were able to best him, then he would gladly give himself up so that they could best despair after.
Some might have believed in another way. Some might have wanted to witness what laid on the other side of the trial he was sure to leave them facing.
It didn't matter.
Komaeda had no intention of sticking around long enough to see what he looked like when the curtain rose.