The Sorrow of Love

If one listened closely, even from two decks below, they could hear the cries coming from the top deck.

That haunting melody lingered in the background, rising with each resurgence of hope, fading to deathly silence with each added level of despair. A lesser man might have been sent to his knees with nightmares, but Kamukura was not one of them. To him, the panic above was nothing more than rustling of grass, or crickets in the evening.

He looked up at a security camera. Slowly, it rotated right. He went right. This new hall was the same as the ones before. Boring. He waited for the next camera to guide him and turned that way.

At last, there was a difference. On the right, the fourth door down had been recently opened; this he knew from the lack of dust on the carpet in front of it. When he opened the door himself, he indeed could hear soft noises from inside. The bedroom itself was empty and the door to the washroom was closed, but there was light at the bottom of the door.

He opened it. The shower curtains were half-drawn. Peeking out of them were Naegi's legs and the front tip of his face as he brought his knees close. The rest of him showed through the curtain as shadow. Carefully, Kamukura pushed the curtain aside.

Naegi gave no sign of noticing, but Kamukura knew that he had. It was no surprise. He knew what he was to Naegi: a silent observer, just another part of the scenery as a piece of furniture was. Just as Kamukura had once wanted to be characterised. Those needs had changed though, had crumbled silently to dust as he had closed the chapter of his life that had once belonged to despair. There were new needs now; a new role for him to play.

Still, he said nothing. He waited, as he must, with patience that would have been surprising from anyone else. His broad shoulders filled the room like a barrier against the storm outside. Faint sounds from the top deck murmured at them from the vents, but they were too quiet for Naegi to notice.

"Are they okay?" Naegi finally whispered.

"Yes. Everyone is safe."

"They weren't supposed to start fighting," he said. "I was going to introduce them. They would have been friends. They were supposed to listen."

"I know."

"Owari-san shouldn't have. . . None of them should have. . . None of them listened. Not even Komaru."

There were answers to be sought about that last statement, but not now. Not from him. Kamukura crouched down so they were at eye-level and waited once more.

"I didn't spend that much time with Owari-san, did I?" Naegi said. The tremors in his tone were settling, his voice becoming solider as he came to a conclusion. A wrong one, but a conclusion, nonetheless.

"Naegi-kun," Kamukura said, "for the last two years, they were Ultimate Despair. Your classmates were the hope of the world, once. Who you chose to spend your time with doesn't matter. Their basic natures are meant to clash."

"No, you're wrong!" Naegi cried. "They're not the same, but that doesn't mean they can't get along. I'm the Ultimate Hope, and they love me!"

There was no hesitation in that last sentence. Naegi's classmates would have taken that as a red flag, not the reassuring promise Kamukura saw.

"They do love you. There is no doubt about that, but that has not always been the case. They clashed with you once. They feared you once. Their love took time. It took fear and blood and violence." Gently, he took control of Naegi's arm and made him feel the old scar upon his forehead. "Is that the fate you wish on your classmates?"

He shook his head fiercely. "It doesn't have to be like that. I can. . . I fix this. I can make everything right."

"In the end, we all make our own choices," Kamukura said. "Ultimate Despair chose to fight. That is not on you."

"No! I can fix this. If I just spoke to them – one at a time – I can . . . I can . . ."

"What is hope in the end, Naegi Makoto?" he asked. He brushed Naegi's arm away from his face. "It is a guiding light in the darkness; a voice of conscience. It is not despair, not an instrument of control as she used it."

His nose scrunched up. "Huh?"

"You can't control them, Naegi-kun," he said. "You can only guide them to the proper path."

"But if I can't . . . If I can't. . . I. . ." Strange gasping, hiccupping sounds escaped Naegi's lungs every time he breathed. Kamukura pretended not to notice.

Kamukura waited until Naegi's breathing calmed, until he no longer jerked forward with every gasp as if about to puke. He grabbed a tissue from the countertop and cleaned up under Naegi's dripping nose. "Do you remember when the Imposter showed his real face? Would that have happened had you not been there? Without you, Nevermind would never have handed away her crown, nor would Pekoyama had found herself again. You did this, Naegi-kun. Not I. Not Kirigiri. Not Komaeda."

"They wouldn't have done it!" Naegi grabbed onto his sleeve, eyes flickering with desperation. "They stopped before when I told them to. No one would have died!"

He said nothing. He didn't need to. Naegi had spent a year with them and knew what they were. Without Kamukura's answer to either confirm his statement or to whip him into a frenzy of denial, Naegi had to think about the contradiction to himself. It easy to read the emotions on his face: denial; guilt; anger; finally all collapsing into grief. Kamukura could see the pressure eroding his mental dam, eating away at it the way a fast river carved out a sand bed.

"You don't need to become anything more, Naegi-kun," he said. "You are already enough."

Teary-eyed, Naegi looked up at him. ""If I can't do this, then what am I?"

"You are still the Ultimate Hope," he said. "You haven't failed. That I promise."

The collapse of the dam was sudden, violent, and Naegi's skeleton seemed to melt and crumble with it. He keened; there was no other description for that long, high-pitched sound. Kamukura grabbed his arm and guided his fall away from the hard bottom of the tub. He redirected it into his own shoulder and didn't move as Naegi wrapped his arms around his neck and wept.

Kamukura turned his eyes toward the door and listened, making sure no one was there. Without a word, he scooped Naegi up and let him burrow into his chest as he carried him out of the room. His steps were as constant as a metronome.

"They hate me," Naegi whispered, lip wobbling. "Everyone hates me now."

"That meeting could have ended in a massacre," Kamukura said. "It has not. Why is that?"

Naegi mumbled indistinctly unintelligibly.

"You fell overboard," Kamukura said. "Obviously, you did not bare witness to it, but the fighting stopped immediately afterwards. Why would they have stopped if they did not care?"

"That was before," Naegi said. "But they hate me now cause I. . . I. . ."

"If your positions were reserved, would you have given up on them?" Kamukura asked.

Naegi's fingers dug into the back of his skin. He felt rather than saw him shake his head.

"Then there is no need to give up on them now. Believe in them."

Naegi's elbow jabbed into the flesh of his shoulder as he twitched. He pawed at the scar on his forehead. It was almost humorous considering most of the time Naegi forgot it was there.

"They do have a right to be upset with you," Kamakura explained. "This is no longer a fortress buttressed by a thousand expendable robots and benefiting from the aftermath of a societal collapse. This is a floating cage without medical care for fugitives that is actively sought by the remnants of civilization. It is easier for everything to go wrong, and the consequences are direr when it does. You need to follow the rules. The anarchy you observed when you lived with Ultimate Despair is dangerous here. Even a day's delay may allow a Future Foundation vessel to stumble upon us."

"They're not going to find us, are they?" Naegi's whisper was thin and frantic, but there was still traces of venomous hate.

"No. The delay was not that long," Kamukura said. "But had you not gone overboard and stopped the fighting, it could have been."

"I'm sorry," Naegi said into his neck.

"I know."

Kamukura stopped outside Naegi's room and listened until he was sure they would be alone. He opened the door and headed not for Naegi's bed, but for his bathroom. He placed the boy on the closed lid on the toilet and handed him a box of tissues so he could clean up. Naegi dabbed at his eyes, soaking up the shiny trails of tears and the gunk that had gathered in the corner of his eyes.

"This will not happen again," he ordered. Although he didn't think Naegi would try anything this grandiose again, a reminder with him was never bad.

Naegi nodded.

"Are you hungry?" When Naegi shook his head, he said, "Then sleep. Tempers will cool overnight. That will be the time to make amends."

"Would they even forgive me?" Naegi asked.

"Ultimate Despair is not angry with you," Kamukura said. "The others will come around in time. Your classmates have done worse to you."

"They had no choice. It was even me or Kirigiri-san. . ." Naegi mumbled. He shook his head and then looked Kamukura in the eye. "Is Kirigiri-san going to forgive me?"

Kamukura took a moment to observe the spark of maturity there, one that Komaeda had all but stomped into dust. "Kirigiri has a hard path ahead."

"Then no," Naegi said, resigned.

"That was not what I said. Get some rest," Kamukura ordered again. He moved as if to leave the room. Out of the bathroom and halfway out the bedroom, still within Naegi's sights, he paused as if just remembering something.

"Kamukura-kun?"

"I have something for you," Kamukura said. He moved out of Naegi's sight for a moment and grabbed what he had stashed in the room earlier. He returned to Naegi and presented it.

"You . . .! Kuma!"

Naegi snatched the away and wrapped himself around it, uncaring about how the stiches in the teddy bear rubbed against his cheek. He was crying again, but this time he wore a small smile. Kamukura really did leave the room this time. In the hallway, he observed for a moment, judging, before trying to close the door.

Naegi's voice came from the bathroom. "Kamukura-kun? Where was Komaeda-kun?"

"He remained in the hold."

Kamukura closed the door and walked away. A tiny frown tugged at his lips. He had been so close to marking that as a complete success.

When he emerged from the stairwell back to the deck, Asahina wasn't far away. That was no surprise. She would have been unable to tear herself away from the sight of her frantic friends, yet at the same time, she knew she had to stay hidden and thus, would have lingered here. He picked her out hiding in a covered lifeboat; every so often, she would lift the cover to peek outside. He approached during the time that cover was down, so that when she raised it again, he was all she saw.

"You have my permission to yell at them," he said.

"Say what?"

"You can yell at them," he repeated helpfully. "As much as you desire."

"You think I'm the kind of person that . . . Yeah, fine. I really want to yell at them. but . . . Hey! Is this a super sneaky way of trying to get me killed?"

"No harm will come to you. I will ensure it." He set his jaw. She recoiled, telling him that she knew he was serious. "I am going to tell them he is safe. The rest is up to you."

He turned without waiting for a response, walked towards the two classes without waiting for her. He could sense her energy though and knew she would follow. Save Kirigiri, who had disappeared, Class 77 and Class 78 were gathered around the rails. There wasn't a lot of movement, but that was a side-effect; despair sucked energy right out of your marrow. Even though Asahina was loudly grinding her teeth, they still walked up right behind Nevermind without anyone noticing. He coughed.

Nevermind turned sharply. Her pupils had dilated; no doubt, it had been a very long time since anyone had snuck up behind her, not when she was usually flanked by loyal subjects. It took her a moment to see past his threat and see him, and another moment after that to see Asahina.

"Asahina, you're . . ."

Several more heads turned at that name. They watched in silence. Waiting. Hoping.

"Naegi-kun is safe," Kamukura said.

"That so? How come I don't see him then?" Soda demanded.

"I put him to bed. He had a long day," Kamukura said.

"Sounds like we're having a slumber party in Makoto-chan's room!" Mioda crowed. "I'll bring the party favours!"

Asahina was nearly shaking. He met her eye and gave her a nod, granting her the permission she so desperately sought.

"Are you kidding?" she shouted at Mioda. "You nearly kill him, and you think you can just laugh it off and throw a party."

"We had no intention to hurt him." Nevermind stood tall, adopting her royal persona. "I behest you: apologize at once!"

"I have no idea what behest means, but I sure as hell aren't apologizing!" She took an aggressive step toward Nevermind, leaving one foot of space between them. "You're the reason he went overboard!"

"I told you: I didn't mean it." Owari picked at some earwax. In anyone else, it would have been a sign of boredom or indifference, but in her it was one of frustration and insecurity.

"It's not about that. It's about you trying to kill us." She pulled at her hair in anger. "What were you planning to tell him anyways? That we all suddenly decided to jump off the ship and drown?"

"I. . . I don't think we thought that far ahead," Koizumi said.

Togami, never one to be left out of a tongue-lashing, spoke up. He stared straight at Tsumiki. "And yet I thought this was about protecting him for some of you. This only proves that your need to endlessly murder outweigh any devotion to him."

"D-don't say that!" Tsumiki screeched. "Take it back!"

"You truly have gone too far," Nevermind said.

"Oh, shut up!" Asahina said to the queen's shock. "None of us wanted to fight you. I mean I might have wanted to punch a few of you, but we didn't want to fight. This is all your fault!"

It was quiet afterwards. Kamukura calmly pushed Asahina back, away from her opponent.

"You should return to the hold," Kamukura said to Ultimate Despair, even as he stared down Nevermind. "It is best for all."

More silence. Then Koizumi and the Imposter turned, trudging toward the cargo hold. One by one, the others peeled off to join them. Nevermind was last, but she did leave.

"Is Naegi-chi really okay?" Hagakure asked afterwards.

Kamukura nodded. "He is. You should let him sleep."

The danger was over. The truce implied. He left them there to come to terms with it on their own.

He returned to the bridge. It was quiet there. It always was. Idly, he examined the security feeds; no matter how quickly Alter Ego flashed through them, each one burned into his mind like lightning. Then without warning, all the screens went dark. The central one lit up again with a familiar face.

"Mr. Kamukura, sir?"

"Yes, Alter Ego?" he said patiently.

"Um, I heard about what happened out there. I guess this was the plan you were talking about, but. . . I don't think that was . . ." Suddenly, the avatar shook off its shyness and puffed out its cheeks in determination. "I don't like what you did!"

He had to shake off the strange visual echo before answering. "Nothing like this will happen again."

"Ah, okay. I believe you, but you were really cruel to them."

"My apologies," he said. He walked up to the captain's wheel and wrenched it to the right.

"Mr. Kamukura-kun!"

"The winds are going to change." He pointed at the sky Alter Ego could not see. "This angle will bring us to Jabberwock faster."

Below, he could see the last members of Ultimate Despair returning to the hold. He rubbed his thumb against the weathered wood of the wheel and mulled over the current state of things.

Togami routed. Kuzuryu bribed. Nevermind disheartened. Kirigiri overthrown. Naegi tamed. Kamukura was the only one left.

His eyes gleamed like blood.

That meant he could finally begin.