Hifumi 1: Dying Thoughts

####

Undisclosed Location; September 11th, 1994

The dying man laid with his back pressed up against a tree, his broken leg stretched out in front of him. In his lap was a notebook and with the uncapping of a pen, he began to write. His characters became sloppier and closer together, like they tended to be when one was still in grade-school and only knew a few handfuls of kanji.

It reminded him of being younger, sitting at the kitchen table in his house; slightly plump but that was seen as cute at that age, his mother on the phone as he sat with a notebook in front of him as he tried to write fanfiction of his favourite book also spread out open in front of him; Boys' Detective Club by Edogawa Ranpo. Also beside him was a Diet Coke.

Gradually his writing had gotten better, and once he was thirteen he had been given the best gift of all; his own computer with a word processor for him to use as he pleased. Naturally, he did so, as even his sister had somewhat left him behind to hang out with Sayaka Maizono, and his parents never wanted anything to do with him anymore. Despite taking typing classes at school, getting the hang of it was slow work when one was actually trying to put words and sentences and paragraphs together and trying to remember which kanji meant which in each context. He kept at it though, and by the time of the outbreak he was at several hundred words a minute, though he never forgot about handwriting. The greatest novelists of all time wrote their projects by hand, after all, and his current style was one he was most proud of. It would be in that style he wrote his last thoughts in.

He wondered if his parents would be proud of him if they saw him now. He had made something of himself. He had lost his fat, and even though he was still technically a virgin, he was pretty sure he wasn't gay as his father always claimed he was.

Hifumi glanced down at his leg, broken and shattered and festering in a greenish-grey heap. His food was all gone and if it hadn't rained heavily for the past few days, he likely would've died from dehydration. He still had his gun with him; one round left after he fired the other two at Mukuro for leaving him behind. She was long gone now.

Looking back at it, it was her fault he was in this mess to begin with. Forgetting everything that happened prior with Hope's Peak; breaking his leg and leaving him for dead had been her doing.

They were driving together on their motorcycles; side by side by some steep cliffs when she suddenly drove up close to him and rammed her vehicle hard into the side of his own, making him cry out in surprise. The motorcycle skidded dangerously and smashed against a railing, making Hifumi fly off and roll down the cliff, hearing a crunch as something broke in his leg. He continued to roll and scream as his back smashed against a tree, making him pant. He finally glanced up and saw Mukuro standing at the edge of the rail, staring down at him with her face white.

"Mukuro, can you please hand me the rope?" He asked politely, almost fearfully. There was a long moment of silence before she started shaking her head. "Can't you hear me? The rope! So I can pull myself up!" She shook her head again. "Mukuro!"

He started trying to slowly drag himself towards her to see her expression, especially as her voice clearly drifted down towards him:

"I'm sorry. It's better this way. It was meant to happen like this,"

He kept crawling on, panting and finally get close enough to take in her expression; he shuddered. Blank and unconcerned. Her eyes weren't with him anymore. He hated her then, hated her as much as one could hate another, knowing she had planned that somehow, and subtly reached for his gun. "Mukuro-"

"She made me do it. If I hadn't done this, she would've, and would've done so much worse. She thinks you'll betray her and can't risk that chance," She stared down at him levelly.

"You betrayed her too! You were trying to give yourself up for hope!" He reminded her.

"I didn't though. Never once did I even let the thought cross my mind. We both need each other. We were born of the same womb, born to bring despair into the world. You were never in it, Hifumi. We may have sold our souls together, but now I want full price for mine," Her voice was a ghastly monotone. Hifumi pulled the gun out at that, aiming it at her and shooting. The bullet went long, bouncing off the railing loudly.

"You weren't expecting that, were you?!" Hifumi asked proudly. Mukuro's eyes were wide as she stared him down, taking a step back. He cocked the gun again and aimed it straight at her head, squeezing the trigger.

The shot ended up going long as well, and Hifumi began to slide down, hitting the back of the tree and passing out. Later he would assume it was Junko herself who interfered, preventing him from killing her sister before her time. When he finally came to, it was nearly dusk and Mukuro was long gone.

Eventually, he returned back to his writing.

Is everyone dead, I wonder? The Ministers of Hope's Peak? If so, know that I'm terribly sorry for what I did. I was led astray. Out of all other excuses that I know, that's the best one. The girl with the bear in her hair is just as real as the Despair Disease. And when the end finally does come and all of the good people come across me in their time of judgement, I will tell them that exact thing. I was led astray.

Hifumi read through what he had already written and frowned a bit. It sounded pompous and grand and hypocritical. It sounded as if even death couldn't have given him the dignity he longed for; that he fancied himself to be a king but Junko was done with him and left him as a miserable bag of bones beside the highway. No, he needed something better. But what?

I was something in Hope's Peak, he randomly thought to himself, and the simple ironic truth of that statement would've made him cry if he wasn't so dehydrated. He wanted to start his note over again, explain everything in the truest, palest, clearest way that he could. He wanted to write it and leave it for whoever would come across him, whether that be in a year or ten.

He thought for a while longer, tightened his grip on the pen, then finally started to write down:

I apologize for all of the destruction that I have unleashed, though I admit I did everything freely. Back before all of this happened, I used to sign everything I wrote, no matter how bad it was, with Yamada Hifumi. Every single thing, every single time. My school work, my fanfics, I even wrote it down on a small flat-roofed house in giant characters. But this time, I'm not going to do that. Rather, I'd like to sign this with a name that I was given back in Hope's Peak that I couldn't accept then, but I fully accept now. I want to die in my right mind.

He sighed the paper with a single character:

Hawk.

With that, he capped the pen, placed it back in his bag, left the notebook open on that page and placed it beside the motorcycle, then picked the gun back up and looked up at the sky. Everyone in his childhood always laughed and called him a wimp because he never followed through on even simple dares and challenges they asked him to do. Perhaps a single time would make up for all those other times, he mused.

He put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

East of Nagasaki, a woman and a man sat, a piece of meat being grilled inbetween them on a small fire. A light breeze blew and sent the smell of the pork out to some nearby wolves, and Junko Enoshima would toss out tiny pieces and watch and laugh as the wolves tried to destroy each other for the piece, but after a while even the wolves bored her.

She felt her wedges get buried into the sand everytime she shifted positions; they were white and rhinestone-encrusted to match her teal off-shoulder evening gown with cream veil covering her face. Aside from teal eyeshadow and lipstick, she wore no other accessories or makeup; her hair was left down for once. A tiny Kuma-chan ring was on her finger.

There was a lot on her mind that night.

At first she had been happy that the little girl had died, because secretly she was afraid of her, and had even told Kyoko Kirigiri that she had died from diarrhea and hadn't said anything. But was that true? She was once able to predict anything and everything that happened to her, but lately things had been falling more and more out of her control.

Kizakura had gotten shot.

The girl had eluded her at the last second, and how? She had known who the third spy was, she knew she did, yet she had been unable to stop her from jumping out the window and ending her life in such a barbaric way.

Who even was the third spy? Every time she tried to ask the spirits or whomever for guidance, she just received an image of the bright full moon and squirmy bugs. The image mocked her. It was one of the only things she didn't know, and she had no way of finding out anymore.

Then, there was Yamada. Yes, Yamada played his role perfectly well, dancing and running around like a puppet on a string. He did everything asked of him, yet even then he was only able to kill two of those stupid Ministers. Yes, one had been pregnant, but what difference did that make? The bomb was intended to kill every single one of them, yet they were mostly saved by the return of that little blind cunt. And Hifumi was dead anyway, but he had almost managed to shoot at Mukuro! She hoped her dumb bitch of a sister was trained enough to avoid any bullets, but the fact he was nearly able to take her head off was extremely troubling indeed.

If Mukuro died, then what? She'd have no heir of hers to pass the legacy of despair onto! No energetic nephew or glamorous niece.

"The food is done," Hajime announced, making Junko look over. She stared at him for a while, pouting cutely.

"I can't eat it with my hands like that!" She huffed, and Hajime glared at her as he gingerly handed her a piece of pork skewered onto a stick.

"You take this wedding thing far too seriously," He commented, eating a piece himself. He was dressed in a luxurious black tuxedo with white trimming.

"Of course! I need myself an heir!" She explained.

Everything would work out just fine. She didn't even care about the bride, or the third spy, or Hifumi anymore. Nagito had gone off on his own again, scoping out old deserted military bases for any kind of weapon she could use to destroy that pitiful Hope's Peak community with. Nagito was an enigma to her, and she could never properly keep an eye on him like she could her other followers. She sometimes wondered if it was for the best, as Nagito was the most elusive of them and confused even her at times. Once she had confirmed the bride's pregnancy, that very spring, she'd send her jets over to Hiroshima and destroy them that way. Maybe she'd have her followers develop a new type of cholera or plague, one that could instantly cripple them due to their new environment. Just a few drops of it into their water supply and then boom!

She finished eating the pork and tossed the empty stick behind her and heard the wolves rush past, growling as they fought over it. She laughed sadistically at it. It was a good night.

Mukuro gasped a bit as her motorcycle finally died down, some fifty or sixty miles away from where she had last left Hifumi to die. Knowing she still had to go on, she continued on her way, stumbling a bit as she felt one of her kitten heels finally break and she tossed it over the bridge she was on as a result. She untied her sweater and placed it over her head as a makeshift way to protect herself from the humidity, though once night fell she found herself heavily shivering.

She found it ironic that her motorcycle was just another tick on a long list of causalities. Not only that but Hifumi and the entire council and all of the people they had invited to that explosive wedding reception of theirs, and Sayaka Maizono's and Aoi Asahina's unborn babies on top of that. She was truly a soldier at heart, a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. All in the name of her sister and future husband. So why did she feel a tiny aching in her gut over it?

Mukuro continued walking, soon slowly realizing her sister would've wanted her to walk that whole treaty length of distance anyway; so when she'd arrive she'd be a dehydrated, voiceless husk, willing to do whatever was asked of her. But wasn't she like that already? It was Junko's idea to plant those bloody knives and seven-round gun under Hifumi's bed for the council to discover, after all.

The nights were chilly and she soon realized she had left her camping materials back in her motorcycle. Her stance was forever crooked because she was missing one heel and the other was about to break as well, she could feel it. She must've been delirious, she marveled at herself.

After another night, she felt the ground under her become shifty and loose and wondered if she had finally reached the beach. The air was heavy and smelled of salty breeze. In the distance was a nice, familiar singing voice. She felt drawn to it but remained where she was, not about to get closer.

"Big Sister! Big Sister!" Junko's cheerful voice reached her, and Mukuro spun around to find her younger sister grinning at her happily, wearing a bridal veil of her own. "I was so afraid that you'd be late, but of course even someone like you wouldn't be. After all, why would you be late to your own wedding?!"

Mukuro ignored her and looked around for her mystery groom, not seeing him anywhere. She inquired about his whereabouts, making Junko laugh.

"Of course he's here, but you can't honestly expect you're going to be allowed to get married in that, right?" Junko gestured to Mukuro's dirty bridesmaid dress. "I don't have much to work with, but trust me! I'll make you look just like a little doll!"

Mukuro gasped a bit in surprise and just closed her eyes as Junko worked her magic on her, never moving until her sister said to. Finally, she slowly opened her eyes and looked into Junko's mirror.

"See? A doll!" Junko exclaimed happily, while Mukuro widened her eyes.

She wore a tiny frilly black cocktail dress that shimmered in the moonlight with heavy combat boots. Both her gloves and veil were made from black fishnets, and her makeup was carefully-selected from an array of blues and reds to make her resemble a diseased corpse, bleeding from the mouth.

"Now you're ready!" Junko giggled and pushed Mukuro over to the fire where Hajime was waiting, Mukuro taking slow and unsteady steps. Hajime wasn't looking at her.

"Are you really my groom? I've dreamed about you sometimes. Mainly of my sister, but you were there too, sometimes," Mukuro asked carefully.

"Yes. We were promised to each other. Lucky me, huh? I get rescued from starving to death and one of those catches is I have to impregnate the sister of my rescuer. Lucky me indeed," He stepped closer to Mukuro and pulled her close, kissing her. Her eyes widened as she suddenly felt a dark need and pleasure fill her, urging her to touch herself and rid herself of the desire for good.

"But why?" She asked once he finally pulled away.

"Because she created the two of us purely for destruction?"

"She never made me,"

"Then who knows? I guess we're just unlucky like that," Hajime shrugged again.

"What's your name?" They were holding hands in the moonlight.

"Just call me Hinata-san," He looked away. Mukuro took a chill and quickly pulled her hands away from his. She could feel Junko's eyes on her, watching her, carefully studying her.

"No," She finally whispered, looking from her groom to her sister. "I don't want to do this anymore. I can't do this," And with that, she took off running, the sudden adrenaline rush allowing her to keep her balance on the sand.

"How foolish of her. She genuinely believes she can outrun you," Junko said darkly. "Hajime-kun...go rape her,"

"W-What?!" Hajime stared at her for just a moment of disbelief before he realized the stakes of the situation. Junko hadn't intended to just carry an heir; otherwise she would've asked Hajime to do that with her. No, her true plan was to force the two of them to fall into despair.

With a nod, Hajime took off running after Mukuro, easily catching up to her due to his enhanced speed. He yanked back on her hair and made her whip back in surprise, trying to elbow him.

"Sorry," He said before he tackled her down to the ground, tightly gripping her wrists to hold her down. The despairful arousal he had intended to see in her eyes, the expression that had haunted his own dreams so much...was not there. "Look," He carefully took one of her hands and placed it on his crotch, feeling her tense up at the warm and heavy sensation.

"No," She declared again, fruitlessly.

"OMG, let the bridal consummation begin!" Junko eagerly cheered from somewhere near them. The bright moon shone down on them.

Hajime slowly unbuttoned his pants and allowed his member to fall forward, and for once in her life, Mukuro felt emotion; true terror.

"Make him stop...you can stop this," She looked around for Junko, sensing her presence but not seeing her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to press her legs together tightly, but Hajime just pulled them apart easily, making her gasp out in surprise.

The moon...if I just look at the moon, it'll be over sooner, Mukuro told herself, glancing up at the moon. She heard Junko's laughter just as Hajime forced himself into her, making her cry out in simultaneous pleasure and pain. Her features flushed as Hajime continued to thrust into her.

When he cummed that first time, Mukuro cried out in sheer agony; she felt molten lava coursing through her veins; filling her womb up and making her stomach burn. Hajime just kept going, pulling her face closer to his and kissing her. His eyes flickered from red to green to brown to hazel to pink to blue to yellow to even her own purple, finally making her scream. The second time, she cummed herself, and still Hajime continued going, filling her up endlessly with the feeling of molten lava and dead leaves, all while Junko laughed eagerly and the moon shone down on all of them.

The moon was nearly down when Hajime started cooking more pork for himself, his new bride, and the sister of the bride, though certainly not by choice. He remained silent as he cooked while Junko stared at Mukuro in fascination. Her eyes were blank and far-away; the stare of a doll. She had one hand in her lap, the other by her side. Curious, Junko picked up the hand in her lap and placed it in front of her mouth; there it remained. Junko then set it back down and all she got in response were two fingers twitching. She poked her cheek, then her eye. Still no response.

That didn't matter at all though. Mukuro was pregnant, she was sure of it, pregnant with her darling little niece! She couldn't wait. Mukuro existed then to purely be an incubator. She just had to grow her child, birth her, then kill herself if she so desired. But never before then.

"The food is done," Hajime gave Junko hers, and Junko responded by tearing smaller pieces off of it and feeding them carefully to Mukuro. The older woman ate a few pieces willingly, but most of them just fell out of her mouth. Junko just pouted.

"Come on, Big Sister, don't start trying to starve yourself now! Your daughter needs nutrition too!" She huffed. If Mukuro kept this up, she'd likely need to be seen by Mikan Tsumiki, probably. As much as that thought disgusted her, she needed to do what was best for her heiress. She caught Hajime's eye and grinned. "Nothing's better than some great food after some great sex, am I right? Isn't this such a romantic honeymoon, spending it out on the beach like this? Most people would kill for a honeymoon this nice! Be more grateful!" She laughed again.

The next morning, she had Hajime pack everything up and toss it into their car. He carried Mukuro into the car as well, sitting her in the backseat next to Junko, where she sat silently and still like a docile doll. Hajime set off, driving back to New Nagasaki.

"Break up with your man and get with me, girl, get with me, 'cuz that man of yours just ain't good for ya, he just ain't good for ya...!" Junko sang happily, nudging Mukuro. "Hey, didn't you used to hang out with that singer? You really get around, dontja, Big Sis?!"

Hajime stepped on the gas harder. Mukuro glanced out the window. Neither said anything.