The Damage Report

"Moving day, huh?"

"Isn't it exciting?" Tsumiki said. "You'll finally have a room all to yourself again."

"Yeah," he said dully, remembering the eerily familiar room. He wasn't sure how to feel about this, for on one hand, he would finally be free again; but on the other hand, he would be sleeping in that room whose décor he associated with another time.

"Do you have everything?"

Clutching his stuffed rabbit, Naegi said, "I didn't really have anything here to begin with."

He called Kuma over, and then the three of them went on his way. Naegi had hesitated for a second, looking for Pekoyama, before he remembered that she was no longer assigned to him. It was a little upsetting, but it's not like she had moved away. He'd see her around.

As they walked, he fell behind Tsumiki so he could walk with Kuma. He reached over, looped his arm over the bear's neck, and turned his face into the fur.

"It's going to be weird staying there," Naegi said. "It's my room. Like, my room from before. It's not . . . it's kind of scary, when I think about it. They're not supposed to know that much about what I was like back then. I mean, I get that they've decided I'm part of their family, but it's just. . . it feels like an invasion of privacy, somehow."

Kuma did not answer.

They reached the trapdoor. Unlike everyone else's rooms, Naegi's new room was underground. Apparently, now that all the Despairs were in one place, both Kuzuryu and Nevermind were paranoid about being attacked – with bombers being their greatest concern. Apparently, they had deemed it safer for Naegi to stay underground.

The room, while still decorated like pre-Hope's Peak room, wasn't quite the same as he remembered it. Ultimate Despair had taken the time to spread around the items they had collected from his home. Stuffed animals jostled for space on either side of the pillows. The first shelf of the bookcase next to the bed had been filled – though Naegi could see that more than one of the books were damaged. A poster of Hope's Peak – he'd bought it in an emotional moment a couple of days after he'd been accepted – lay upon the right wall. They hadn't had the time to carve an opening into a wall for a closet, so they'd given him a dresser he hadn't owned back then.

"Do you like it?" Tsumiki asked.

He turned. She was looking at him so earnestly that he knew he couldn't tell the truth. Well, for that reason, and because he expected Ultimate Despair would be upset if he admitted he was creeped out.

Speaking of the others, he was glad that of all people, it was Tsumiki with him (although Komaeda would have been okay). He'd watched her all morning, studied every inch of her that he could see, and as far as he could tell, she hadn't replaced any of her body parts like Kuzuryu had. The others. . . he had done his best not to look or remember, but he still occasionally saw flashes of manicured nails and motionless eyes when he let his guard down.

A cast of shadows acted out their roles in his mind. Tall, leering figures, staring at him from above. That eye, in colour unlike the rest, was held in delicate hands as Ultimate Despair's Nurse stoked his face and prepped the syringe –

But, now wasn't the time to get distracted.

"It's perfect," he lied. He fit a smile onto his face and it didn't feel the least bit fake. "Really, thanks for doing all this. I can only imagine how much work it took."

"Umm, you would have to ask the others. I didn't bring in any of this. They did and I know it took them a while because . . . some things are h-hard to find now. The world . . . it's v-very different than how it used to be."

Her voice grew more distant as she spoke. Her hand rested on the frame of Naegi's new bed, gripping it lightly. She was no longer looking at him, no longer speaking to him. Whatever she was saying, it was about something bigger than him.

"Mikan . . .?"

She jumped. "B-but I'm glad they finished your room, because you couldn't stay in a hospital bed forever. That wouldn't be very nice."

". . . Right," he said.

Tsumiki was about to say something –

"You moved him already? I thought you were going to do it in an hour."

Komaeda was at the bottom of the stairs, looking around. Naegi quickly looked the older teen over from head to toe, making sure he was the same, that he hadn't gone and replaced one of his body parts while he hadn't been looking. (But Komaeda wouldn't do that, right? Not him. Never him. Not when he had been the one to stand up to Despair, not when he was so willing to throw himself down for Naegi's sake –)

"Oh. . . I didn't think there was any reason to wait," Tsumiki said.

Naegi couldn't quite place the tension he could taste. Though whatever it was, he was sure that it hadn't been there yesterday. He cleared his throat, drawing attention and snapping them out of whatever trance had consumed them.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Komaeda walked past him, and stopped in front of a blank section of wall. "Now that you have an empty wall. . ."

The Luckster whipped out a roll of tape and a piece of paper, and then taped the paper to the wall.

". . . We can start making your Hope Wall again!"

"Uh, is that your hope poem?" Naegi asked, already dreading the answer.

"What else would it be?"

He groaned.

They didn't stay long after that. Komaeda loudly announced that they should leave him be so that he could organize his room to his liking, and Tsumiki agreed. They filed out one after another, waving to him as they did.

He heard the distant boom of the trapdoor. It was just him now. He was alone.

He blinked.

He was . . . alone?

When was the last time he had been alone? He racked his brain for answers. The last time. . . it had probably been during that domino of events that had catapulted him into the situation where they needed to restrain him in the first place. He was alone now. He could have lots of alone time if he wanted to.

But there was one problem with that.

He didn't know what to do.

He looked around his new room, suddenly panicky. Komaeda had suggested that he could rearrange things if he wanted to, but had he meant it? Was that what he was supposed to do? Or maybe he wasn't supposed to stay at all. Maybe he was supposed to follow them and they were waiting at the top, timing how long it took. . . It could be a test. He didn't know. The instructions had been too unclear.

He reminded himself to breathe. Not that it helped much. His chest muscles were cramping, and his lungs burned as if he were running at top speed. The relative blankness of the surrounding walls seemed to mock him. The world swayed as his brain was wracked with indecision. . .

Kuma pressed his snout into Naegi's hand.

He breathed through his nose. In. Out. Yes, that was right. Kuma was here. He wasn't alone. He scratched Kuma behind the ears and leaned against his body.

Yes, that was right. Here, under Ultimate Despair's roof . . .

. . . He was never really alone.


The office was dark. The blinds had been half-lowered in the windows, even though the sun outside was close to waning. Statue-like in his stillness, Munakata's eyes were closed as he waited in his chair. His head was supported by his arms, and his spine sagged and arched. A cellphone sat on the desk before him, shining with the last light of the latest message. Yet, he made no move to read it. Instead, Munakata remained still until there was a click, and the door to his office creaked open.

"Chisa," he said hoarsely, not needing to open his eyes. He knew Yukizome was the only person Sakakura would let pass during a time like this.

Her heels clicked against the ground as she walked towards him. A warm, gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and he heaved a great sigh in response.

"They've quelled the riots in the nearby cities," she said softly, as if afraid her words could break him.

His lips thinned. "What's the damage?"

"I don't know. It'll be at least a couple of weeks before we can say."

He opened his eyes. "That long?"

". . . I'm counting desertions among the damages."

He fought not to flinch. Yes, that was right. Desertions would be a big problem within the next weeks. The Survivor Six had been beloved by non-despairs around the world, but none so more than Naegi Makoto. He, the Ultimate Hope, the one who had conquered despair in its rawest form. He, the world's hero, who had quite the collection of admirers (The Naegi Cultists, as Sakakura snidely called them). It was no secret that recruitment had gone up drastically in the wake of Enoshima's defeat. It was also well-known to him that many of them had joined due to the fervour Naegi's victory had caused or, more alarmingly, out of misguided loyalty to the world's Ultimate Hope. It was natural, then, that seeing Naegi healthy and alive within Despair's hands, and apparently outright mourning their enemy would cause some to desert. Even worse, he feared some of them might maintain their devotion to their alleged Hope, and end up defecting.

"What about the cities beyond those limits?" he asked.

"Most are still ongoing. We hope to subdue the rest in the interior before tomorrow. But the ones in the outer areas will take longer to reach. Not to mention the riots outside the country."

He buried his head in his hands. He felt so weak. Here he was, leading the world's last bastion of hope; an organization that spanned the globe and had thousands upon thousands of agents. Yet, it seemed that all it took was a less than five minute speech from an ignorant fool to render him powerless. Naegi, truly, was terrifying. Ultimate Despair as well, seeing as they obviously understood how to use their captive. He'd been alarmed when the scouts started reporting that Ultimate Despair were amassing at their headquarters; it was rarely a good thing when Despairs gathered together. Clearly, he'd been right to be worried.

"Juzo wants to know if you want to give Ando-san's plan the go-ahead," Yukizome said.

"Remind me, which one is that?"

"The one where we pretend that Naegi-kun was a Despair agent this entire time, and the Killing Game was a plot to try and open a way for him to infiltrate the Future Foundation."

". . . We may have to," Munakata admitted.

Yukizome watched him. "But you don't want to."

Munakata leaned back. "Do you remember that teenager Division 5 picked up in sector G7?"

"You mean Mootori Koji?"

"I interviewed him myself. Do you know why we found him so close to Ultimate Despair's headquarters?" Munakata shifted uncomfortably. "He claims he was kidnapped and taken there."

Yukizome gaped. "But he's –"

"Alive? Yes, that is unusual. Mootori credits Naegi with his survival and what's more, I have yet to see any indication that he was being dishonest. If he were honest, then that would suggest that not only is Naegi not a Despair agent, but he has managed to maintain some semblance of sanity." Munakata's words took on a darker edge as he said, "It is possible that Naegi is Despair and he released that captive to fool us, but I can't figure out a motive as to why."

Yukizome sighed. She sat on the edge of Munakata's desk, not looking at him as she spoke. "I can see what you're saying. In some ways, it would be worse if he wasn't Despair."

Munakata was silent.

She kicked her feet. "But I don't think we should discard the idea of a traitor entirely. I've been thinking about it and. . . what if we've been focusing on the wrong people?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Explain."

"We've been focusing on Naegi-kun, Kirigiri-san, and Togami-kun. But if you believe Naegi-kun isn't a mole. . . then maybe arranging his capture was part of the mole's agenda. I might be remembering incorrectly, but wasn't Hagakure-kun supposed to be with him when Komaeda attacked? And it is awfully convenient that Asahina-san set off a landmine that destroyed Kirigiri-san's trail."

". . . That is all true."

"It's something to consider," Yukizome said. She hopped off the desk. "But I wouldn't worry too much. I'm sure you'll do what's best in the end!"

Yukizome said her goodbyes. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Munakata in the otherwise empty room. The leader of the Future Foundation stared at the closed door for a while, then sagged as he felt the pressures of the world closing in.


Naegi carefully wiggled out the photo of him and Maizono from the album, and then grabbed the roll of tape that had been left behind. The picture soon joined the collection on the wall. He'd figured that if Komaeda was that intent on starting his Hope Wall up again, he should act quickly to make it his. Heaven forbid Komaeda decide the Hope Wall looked too empty, and make another poem to add substance.

There were a lot of pictures of him and Maizono, he noticed. Him and Asahina, too, along with Leon. Surprisingly, he had apparently posed with Ishimaru a lot, too. He wished he knew whether that was due to them being close, or just because those guys liked taking pictures. In a way, he kind of wished for both. He wanted to have been close to his classmates, of course, but the latter would explain why there were so few pictures of him with people like Togami and Kirigiri.

With regards to Class 77, they didn't appear all that much, especially not as the main focus. Mioda, however, appeared to have quite the knack for photobombing. She could be see diving across the background of the photos in almost 10% of them, and he wondered if she had done that to everyone, or just him. He'd like to think it was just him, but it wasn't like he had been Hope back then.

Nanami though. . . he glanced at the tabletop that held those pictures. There weren't too many of them, but they had been able to tell him something. Apparently, he and Nanami really, really liked their hoodies. They wore the same ones in every photo, and they always pulled the hood up! Nanami's hood had these cute little animal ears on it, too, and it made him shiver and wish longingly for something that would cover him more thoroughly. He'd changed out of his scrubs into a plain shirt and jeans, but he was still missing that last part . . .

He stared at the closet. He'd seen it in there. He'd ignored it until now. But his skin was prickling with cold and the photos he had been staring at made him feel almost naked . . .

Without thinking, he walked over to the closet and opened it up.

It was waiting where he had stuffed it in the back. That damn hoodie. Whether it was the same one he had worn here, or another taken from his house, he didn't know. He could know, of course. All he had to do was check the back, look for that ratty strip . . . But he couldn't do it. His chest tightened when he thought about it and when he reached for it, his arm jerked back and refused to make contact. He chewed on air.

But he was cold and lonely.

Somehow, he managed to grab the sleeve. His arm shook so badly that the vibration ran up the fabric and made the hoodie jiggle on its hanger. He. . . he . . . he gasped . . . he couldn't bring himself to look. Maybe. . . maybe he didn't need to. He didn't usually see the back of his hoodie, right? He could put it on without looking, without checking whether it was the same one.

Trembling, he draped it over himself. Rather than make him warmer, the hoodie felt like slimy cold against his warm flesh. He had to fight to breathe. It felt like he was wrapping a chain around his neck, and twisting it. But that was silly. It was a hoodie. It wouldn't hurt him.

His vision blurred as he stared at his arm. Just a hoodie. Just a piece of cloth.

But for some reason, he could resist bringing it up to his noise and inhaling –

His stomach lurched. There was no washroom, but there was a wastebasket by the desk, and he scrambled over to that and collapsed beside it. The sickness came at him in waves, and he spat up mouthfuls of bile that lingered and stained his throat. By the time it was over, he was crying.

Kuma stuck his nose into his face.

Naegi slunk over, fitting himself between the bear's paws, and underneath the chin. The hoodie hadn't warmed him, but Kuma was very warm. He tore the hoodie off, and threw it aside; it landed in a crumpled heap underneath the bed. Kuma was very warm, very soft, very patient as Naegi turned into him and sobbed into his fur.

"What's wrong with me?" he whimpered. A piece of clothing, his favourite clothing, shouldn't bother him so much. Yet that thing had left scars as deep as any made by a knife and even now, he shivered as he imagined it touching him.

Kuma did not answer.

"I don't . . . I don't know who I am, anymore."

Kuma's nose poked the back of his neck.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. His breathing began to settle. Naegi leaned backwards into that thick coat of fur, laid his head against that powerful chest. Kuma's heartbeat was steady and strong.

"I'm Naegi Makoto," he mumbled to himself. "I'm the Ultimate Hope. My favourite animals are bears. I . . . I survived the Killing Game and defeated the Ultimate Despair. I. . . I . . ."

And for what seemed to be no reason whatsoever, he started to cry.


Review Responses:

Harjas Sandhu: Lots of fun stuff happened in those two chapters! And the reason Kamukura doesn't beat everyone up is that it would ruin his fabulous hair.

Guest: But Hinata hasn't even been in this fic?

Mike: Yeah, that was not a fun chapter for Naegi. Though Kuma's having a fine time.