A filler chapter? What? No waaaaaay~ Eh, whatever.
Also, to ThunderRaptor, who asked about any cameos from the Another Episode cast- I will admit, they will show up in this story. When? ... You'll just have to wait and read~ But yes, good question, they will be here. c:
Anyway, I hope you enjoy~! ... I'm sorry.
The gentle sway of the boat as it pushed through the water—accompanied by the light swishing sounds of the waves and ripples that trailed out behind the ship—seemed to be enough to put everyone on board asleep.
Almost everyone.
Hajime lay awake, staring at the ceiling as the waves crashed and the boat rocked, almost beckoning him to rest. He didn't want to rest, though. Because resting meant sleeping, not preparing, and when he would awaken after sleeping they would be in Tokyo, and if he didn't prepare before then, well, he wasn't sure what he would do. Everything was so messed up now—he didn't like this at all.
He blinked once, his gaze cast lazily at the sights in the cabin he stayed in. The small porthole nearby, closed to prevent birds and high waves from getting in, yet not sealed enough to block out the all too familiar scents of seawater and tropic winds. He looked at the walls—painted the colors of warm steel and raw wool— and the small lamp in the corner of the room, which its fluorescent light that normally illuminated the area was turned off now so the people on board the ship could sleep. Could being the keyword, Hajime mused. He shifted on his bed, or rather, the cot that he was laying on, to get a better look at things—such as the group's belongings on the shelf, and the cots that the other males were sleeping on. The girls were with Kyoko in another room, a few doors down, while the boys in here with Byakuya. Makoto had needed a place to sleep, since the rooms only had four cots, so the girls let him stay with them, as they had extra…
Hajime cringed, remembering their time in the funhouse. With Strawberry House and Grape House, the towers, when the boys didn't have enough space so he bunked with the girls, when they were starving to death, and Nagito's impossible luck with Russian Roulette, the fact that there was nothing special about him. When Nekomaru was killed—when Gundham was executed for it, because of their battle, their deal…
None of this would have ever happened if not for Izuru.
He gripped the blanket and tugged it over his head, trying in vain to block out the memories and the thoughts. This hadn't been the first time a night of sleep was lost in place of a guilt trip—Hajime just wished that it could finally be the last. He was almost used to having his guilt gnaw away at him. The despair would sometimes creep into the back of his mind—and although he knew it wouldn't go away, he wouldn't ever submit to it again. That's all they cared about, right? That he wouldn't go back to despair. It didn't matter how he lost sleep or lost his mind, it didn't matter how his head would spin with awful thoughts and memories, with blame and guilt and hate.
It didn't matter anymore.
None of his friends blamed him—possibly because they were all suffering from their own troubled memories—however few they recovered immediately. But still, he knew he blamed himself. If Izuru hadn't uploaded AI Junko into the Neo World Program, they'd all be rehabilitated—all of them—and they wouldn't have to remember what they did. They wouldn't have to have not only the baggage of past despair, but the deaths of the friends they waited for two years to wake up dragging them down as well.
As more of their memories from the Tragedy slipped in through their defenses, Hajime figured he couldn't dwell on it. He had to be the friend who could care for others when they needed him—much like in the simulation, when he had held everyone together. Well, he and Chiaki had…
He bit his lip, tugging on the covers again. Chiaki—while he was glad she wasn't forgotten about all together, it didn't help that the girl he grew so close too after everything they suffered wasn't even real. He had trusted her, felt more comfortable with her than anyone else on the island. He wanted to show her the world when they left the island, he wanted to explore places with her, and just keep her around. She seemed like a keeper. And yet, it all figured that none of that could ever truly happen. The burning fact that she couldn't be there in reality—whether it was cold and cruel, or those scarce blissful moments—the fact that she was only a distant and somewhat hazy memory, stung him in more ways than he would have liked.
He felt a dull, aching pain in the back of his mind, that went out to consume all of his senses, and once more questioned why he ever felt a love for despair.
He squirmed on the cot again, his eyes cast upon the ceiling as he didn't want to look around anymore. He didn't want to think about it—for thinking was remembering, and he could see why no one had wanted them to remember. He didn't want to remember it anymore. He didn't want to muscle through it anymore.
He just didn't want to do it anymore.
"… Hey, Hajime, are you still awake?"
The voice was a low whisper, yet loud enough that Hajime was able to tell who it was. He sat up on his elbows, glancing over to the mechanic's cot—the pink haired boy was sitting up, his back against the wall and his knees brought up to his chest.
"Yeah, I haven't slept yet…," Hajime mumbled back.
"I could tell—the cot kept squeaking every time you moved," Kazuichi murmured, a ghost of a smile on his lips, before it disappeared and he curled in tighter on himself. "… What do you think will happen when we get there?"
"Get where? Tokyo?"
"Yeah… do you actually think things will be okay?"
Hajime chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, trying to come up with an honest answer. Did he? No, not at all. But that wasn't very reassuring, was it? "Honestly, I don't think it will be—at least not right away. Who knows?" he whispered. "Maybe it'll be better than we think? Maybe we're just being paranoid…"
"The paranoia might be justified, though…," the mechanic sighed, trying to make eye contact with Hajime, even though the room was practically pitch black.
The Reserve Course boy shook his head, feeling a little defeated at the thought, "Yeah, it might be… it'll be better if we don't think too far ahead, though. Let's just see how it goes and take it from there?"
"Because that worked so well on the island, right?"
Both males turned to the final survivor in the room, who was resting face up on the cot and musing out loud—whether it was to himself or the two them, they weren't really sure.
"H-Hey… Fuyuhiko—,"
"It's true though, right?" he hissed, his voice quiet, though quite aggravated. "Because… see where that got us? Just going with it and having blind faith that things would be alright—isn't that what got everyone killed?"
No, Izuru got everyone killed.
Hajime flinched, unconsciously brushing a hand through his hair and gripping at the locks as if to tug the thought out of his mind. No, don't dwell on that right now, he chastised himself. He couldn't focus on it—regret wouldn't change what had already happened. It wouldn't bring them back.
"Believing in each other, and believing in ourselves that we could overcome it… and did it work?" His voice was getting sharper—Hajime didn't fail to understand his irritation. "No, it didn't. Because we still lost more than half of our class, hell, our fucking friends—sticking to the belief that it wouldn't be so bad… and even after two years, just going with it has gotten us where?"
The room was silent for a moment.
"They're still gone… she's still gone. And now that we remember, we're just supposed to forget and live on? Try to look for the good things?" A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, his voice strained and angry. "… What good things are left?"
Hajime was sure the boy's rant had completely shifted from the original topic—he assumed the shorter male was finally venting his frustrations about the situation. Still, Hajime couldn't deny that the words were piercing him in an all too personal sense.
"It doesn't really matter what you answer, anyway," the young yakuza said softly, his tone suddenly sounding tired and defeated. "Because… because even if you say that we still got out alive, and that we're over our Ultimate Despair days… what's actually gotten better? Honestly…"
Fuyuhiko rolled over onto his side, turning to face the wall.
"What's there to hope for now?"
"H-hey, dude…," Kazuichi whispered, obviously feeling much worse after the blonde boy's vent.
There was no response.
"Fuyuhiko…," Hajime tried again, still quiet. He was worried—not only because Fuyuhiko's way of thinking wasn't helping anyone at all, but if that's how he felt, would he really be alright? Or would he crumble once again…?
When there was no reply, or even sounds of acknowledgement from the smallest boy's cot, Hajime tried again, a bit louder.
"Fuyuhiko…"
Nothing still. Hajime tried, his voice raising a little more again.
"Hey, Fuyuh—,"
"Sssshh," Byakuya's voice slurred sleepily from the final corner of the room. "Keep your voices down, and go back to sleep," he hissed, obviously irritated, and not fully awake, either. Just awake enough to scold them for waking him at all. "We'll… we'll be there soon in the morning, and I don't want to hear any complaints of being tired… besides, some people are trying to sleep, anyway…"
Hajime bit his lip, wanting to press that they couldn't sleep and it was easier to talk it out, but upon remembering Fuyuhiko's sour opinion on the situation at hand, and how Kazuichi was obviously going to jump on the same train now—he figured it would be best to try and sleep.
So as he lay down on the cot, closing his eyes and trying to think of anything but their current troubles, he felt himself finally drifting into sleep.
At least when he was asleep, there were no dreams. No guilt and no reminders. No pain and no despair.
Just blissful nothing.
Once again, I have no beta for my stories, so... sorry if I miss a typo or two.
And, well, until next time- bagels to those who review~
