Surviving is Not Enough

First and foremost, Jabberwock Island had been made for tourists. Appearance, thus, had been of the utmost priority. Even in the island's neglected state that was clear, and some structures made that more obvious than others. For instance, the low-lying, wooden bridges connecting each island to the central one had somehow escaped decay. Even the areas where moss crawled up the sides could be described as decorative.

Therefore, one wouldn't know anything was wrong with Fourth Island until they stepped off the bridge and observed the. . . well, the nothingness. Unlike the other islands, there were no buildings that could be seen from the island's entry point. The land was overgrown, twisted with brambles and choking weeds. The only manmade structure that could be seen from the bridge was a cracked road that led into a horizon of dunes.

Pekoyama observed this all with a feeling of disgust. This was an ugly, wild place with nothing to justify anyone's attention. Which was why she didn't understand why Naegi had chosen this island for an impromptu field trip.

"What do you think used to be here?" Naegi asked her.

"I don't know. The Family never visited Jabberwock. It wasn't secure enough."

"Well, maybe we can find some clues. It'll be like being a detective!" With that happy declaration, Naegi hopped off the edge of the bridge and onto the grass –

"Naegi-kun!" She sprung forward, reaching for the back of his collar. The fabric slipped just beyond her reach and as he touched the ground, everything slowed. If she were fast enough, maybe she could still reach him, maybe she could protect. . .

She forcefully shoved Naegi back towards the bridge with her shoulder. And there, alone, she waited. Nothing exploded.

She let out a deep breath. Considering the intact state of the bridge, it had been unlikely that any bombs had struck and buried themselves in this area. But it was always better to be on-guard. That was why she had asked Soda to build an explosive detector, which she had taken with her to this island.

She looked back. Naegi had pressed himself against one of the bridge's supports and she hated, hated how he looked at her. She'd seen him look at her like that once before, but that didn't lessen the sting because he should know that she would never harm him.

"It's safe," she said, hiding her own hurt.

Warily, he pushed himself off the support. He scanned the land around them. "From what?"

"Explosives that failed to detonate when they struck," she said.

Oddly, rather than worrying him, that answer seemed to give Naegi great relief. He smiled at her and said, "Then it's good you have that thing Soda-kun made."

"Yes, which only works if I go first."

He shrugged. "Lead the way, then."

"Where?"

"Just around."

At least he was listening. He was better than Kuzuryu in that way. Yes, Kuzuryu would always give in eventually, but at the same time, he viewed it as a point of pride to make a show of needless refusal. That said, she couldn't imagine that Kuzuryu would ask her to take him to a place like this.

"We should turn back," she said as she led their way into the island's interior. She swept the metal detector-like device over the ground. "Do you remember what they told us about this island?"

"Ultimate Despair got the jump on them here, so it took the brunt of their assault." He tapped his chin. "It's odd, isn't it? Why here and not Fifth Island where the military base was located?"

"You mustn't forget their priority is always despair," Pekoyama answered. "My guess is that more people were gathered on this island, or there was something on it that marked it as a place of joy. We shouldn't be here. I . . . There are things here that I do not want you to see."

"I know what you're not saying. I'll be okay. Jabberwock's been abandoned for at least a year, so any bodies they left behind would be bones." He nudged her playfully in the side. "Plus, I've seen corpses before – both with and without their skin on!"

That painful reminder hit deep, like a knife in the back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry for what?" Naegi asked, confused. "Hey, let's check out that spot!"

He pointed at a dip between two dunes that was crowded by prickly brushes. Her body turned automatically at his command, bringing the detector with it.

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

His eyes glazed. They went slightly out of focus, like he had erected a forcefield between them.

"Something we can use," Naegi said. "I'm hoping we'll know when we find it."

He padded along after her. She didn't want to be here. No good would come of it, but Naegi insisted and when he was determined to do something, not even a hurricane could make him bend. He kicked at the dirt on occasion, and dug with his toes the moment he saw anything shiny. They found bullet casing and shrapnel by the handful, but that didn't interest him.

As they drew closer to the other side of the island, the road became more tattered, the landscape less natural. Here, they found rubble. Most of it was metal, burnt black or twisted into unnatural shapes. It puzzled her. Many of the pieces didn't look like they had come from buildings. What had existed here?

"Doesn't it remind you of home?" Naegi asked.

"How so?" She sniffed; maybe it wasn't the sight he referred to.

"Our building was surrounded by a bunch of rubble, too, remember? Although the rubble didn't look like this," Naegi said. "This is a lot more metallic."

It was. She swept the detector over a piece, just in case. Behind her, something crunched as Naegi nosed around.

"Hey, Peko!" He touched her shoulder. "Want to give me a hand?"

She froze. Her spine tingled. That tone he had used. . . she knew it. From Kuzuryu. Not the Young Master as he was now, but from before, when his words had been cruel. She was Pekoyama Peko, though, a weapon from childhood, and thus did not flinch when she looked at her shoulder to see the skeletal hand cupping it.

Naegi, trying to hide his smile behind his free hand, burst into giggles. The skeletal hand was removed from her shoulder and found a home atop Naegi's other hand as he tried vainly to muffle himself. In his eyes, furious swirls pulsed and swamped her glasses. If she focused, she could them reflected in the lens.

"It wasn't that bad a pun, was it?" he said when she maintained her stoic expression.

"Put that down," she ordered.

"Don't worry, it's been picked clean. See? No diseases – promise!" Naegi held out the hand in both palms. If she moved quick enough, maybe she could take it from him.

"That's not why!" Pekoyama nearly shouted. "That's. . ."

"Dead? Well, it's not going to be more useful on the ground," Naegi said. "Besides, this is the best possible outcome. They died fighting for hope and now, in death, they have a chance to be of use to Hope himself. What more could they ask for?"

"You don't know they died fighting for hope."

Naegi blinked. Then he squeaked and tossed the skeletal hand as far away as possible. He backed up behind her, hissing with displeasure.

"Ugh, gross," he muttered as the swirls disappeared. "I could have been touching Despair. That's disgusting."

"You threw it away," she said, stunned.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

She didn't like this changed Naegi.

Naegi suddenly said, "That looks like part of a tent - a very burnt tent. Come on!"

At least he was distracted easily. She tried to turn her mind away from what she had witnessed, but could not. It was too invasive: the picture of him using a body part as a prop with the same earnestness he had used to express his belief in her or to bully Kuzuryu into dressing like a clown.

The tent fragment laid embedded near the top of a dune. Once she had cleared the area, Naegi climbed it with gusto. He planted himself on top of the dune, hands on his hip like an explorer laying claim to a new world.

"Who's that?" Naegi asked.

She stood next to him and squinted. "I think that is Komaeda-kun."

"Komaeda-kun. . .? Are you sure? How can you tell?" Naegi said. He went up on tiptoes, tilting forward like a dog tugging at its leash.

"Yes. No one else wears clothes like him."

"What is he doing here?" Before she could even guess, Naegi latched onto her arm. His full weight hit her at once, and she had to concentrate on keeping them upright rather than speaking. "There's nothing here. Is he following us?"

She squinted again. Komaeda wasn't looking in their direction and while he was known for stalking, he wasn't known for caring if he got caught. He didn't seem aware of their presence. Indeed, as she watched, he knelt and examined something on the ground.

"No," she said confidently. "He is not following us."

"Then why is he here?" Naegi demanded. She was sure it was the humidity, but his hair was wild like a kitten fluffing out its fur.

"He's looking for something," Pekoyama said.

Naegi fell silent. She thought he was satisfied, until that hoarse sound, a sound like was on the cusp of death, slunk out from between his teeth:

"Looking for what?"

"I don't know."

"There's nothing here," Naegi said. "Just garbage and metal and dead people. . . What does he want with those? What is he doing? He's not allowed. . . He isn't Hope. He's not allowed!"

"Calm down!" she said, alarmed. "We don't know that's what he's here for."

"What else would it be!?" He shrieked at her. "There's nothing else here. He isn't allowed to be here!"

"Naegi-kun . . ."

"He isn't. HE ISN'T!"

Anything alive on the island would have heard him and thus, so did Komaeda. Either Naegi realized that, or he saw her looking in that direction and looked, too.

"He's looking at us," Naegi said.

"Yes, he is - Naegi-kun!"

In that small period she had her eyes off him and on Komaeda, Naegi had bent over and vomited. She didn't move fast enough to save her shoes or the hem of her pants.

"Naegi-kun, what's wrong?"

He had been fine just a few minutes ago, but now not only was he drenched in sweat, he reeked of it. There was another strange, acidic scent she couldn't readily identify.

"He isn't allowed. He isn't allowed to have bodies anymore."

"When did he have bodies. . . ? I don't understand you."

"Make him go away. Tell him to leave."

He was throwing fists at her midsection, but she couldn't tell if he was trying to hurt her or just flailing. She caught his wrists easily and held them still. Naegi's head slumped forward, suddenly too heavy for his neck to support. The rest of him tried to follow a moment after.

His body was dead weight; she lifted it onto her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He was damp, that was to be expected. But there was more moisture than she had anticipated, until she realized where that acidic smell was coming from and what it meant.

He was as silent as the dead. Her only choice was to drag him away from the site. But she didn't get far before Naegi sprung to life. He kicked and launched off her, and before she had fully turned around, he had charged into an area she had not checked was safe and dove at something on the ground –

Click.

With each pull of the rifle's trigger, the empty sound echoed. Yet even though he hadn't remembered to disengage the safety, even though he was untrained and there was no way he could reasonably hit a target at this distance, Naegi continued to try. The rifle's shaft remained unerringly centered on Komaeda.

She approached carefully. "Naegi-kun, put that down."

"No!" He clutched the rifle close to himself. Her heart thumped. The rifle was probably unloaded, but that wasn't a certainty.

"You don't know how to use that. You could hurt yourself."

"No!" He scrabbled away. Her attention was first caught by the blazing swirls, then by the fact that the mouth of the rifle's muzzle was currently resting against the bottom of his chin. Even if she had wanted to move, lead weights pinned her feet to the ground. She held her hands out wide, proving she was unarmed, trying to do anything but agitate him further. In her desperation, her mind latched onto the first thing anyone knew about him.

"Naegi-kun, please, put it down. You're the Ultimate Hope. We can't let you get hurt. Guns are very dangerous. Just. . . put it down."

With his eyes taken over, Naegi shouldn't be able to narrow them, but he did. But he was listening. Inch by painful inch, the rifle fell away from his chin. He tilted it towards her, not in a threatening way, but in an offer she would gladly accept.

Then he was shoving it at her. "Shoot him. Shoot him!"

She took the rifle before he could change his mind. "I can't –"

"That's an order, Peko!" he snapped. "I order you to shoot him!"

Saliva dripped from his chin. This wasn't the careless dribbling of someone caught in the delirious throes of despair, but the frothing of a rapid wolf. He growled deep in his throat, like he was going to lunge at her if she didn't obey.

She said quietly, "I don't take orders from anyone."

The growl shut off. His jaw twitched. The swirls in his eyes grew and shrunk as he wavered between the decrees of despair, and of the laws of the Ultimate Hope.

She checked the rifle. Empty. Good. Checked the horizon. Komaeda was still in the general area; no doubt, he had no idea she was trying to save his life right now.

"Naegi-kun, I will go tell him to leave if you stay here and don't move," she said. "Then we need to leave, too. Is that acceptable?"

Naegi didn't answer. His head was bowed. Abruptly, he staggered a couple steps away and she thought he was already breaking the terms of their unsolidified agreement until he retched. A second stomach's worth of acid splattered over the ground. She caught him quickly, lest he sway and fall into his own sick. Although she wasn't in direct contact with any of his pulse points, she could feel the rabbit-quick speed of his heartbeat. It made him squirm and gasp, and shudder like they were caught in a snowstorm.

"Promise. Make him leave. Promise."

"I don't know."

That was the only explanation Pekoyama had for them when she had returned to the motel with Naegi virtually fused into her waist. Even now when she checked out the window, Naegi had his arms around Pekoyama in a death-vice and his face burrowed into her lap.

From what Kirigiri had gleaned, once again, everything came down to Komaeda. Except Komaeda hadn't even done anything this time. This was something else. Naegi had never had such a reaction to simply seeing someone.

She explained all this to Gekkogahara, who promptly agreed. Kirigiri then continued to explain that while this was unscheduled and Naegi hadn't been forewarned, it was clear he needed a therapy session right now. That was obvious to her, so it bothered her when Gekkogahara hesitated.

"Kirigiri-san, have you and your classmates tried speaking to him?" Gekkogahara asked.

"No, I came straight to you," she said. Ah, that was what Gekkogahara was concerned about. "I told everyone to refrain from questions until we received further instructions."

Gekkogahara thought about it for too long. "I completely understand why you would want me to speak to him, but I'm not sure that's the best idea. I do believe that Naegi-kun trusts me. . . but I'm still across the ocean and he can't hug a computer screen."

"But . . . I'm not trained," she protested. She tried to handle Naegi herself once, and that had gone horribly.

"Then don't try to treat him. If he's as frightened as you say, this isn't the right time for me to pick at his brain, either. Remember the basics: listen; acknowledge his feelings; try not to fight him."

Her jaw tightened. "I don't want to make this worse."

"You won't if you remember what I said. Kirigiri-san, he needs his friends."

The call ended shortly after. Kirigiri took a deep breath and then stepped outside. Pekoyama and Naegi were exactly where she had left them: hovering awkwardly at the edge of the motel's boardwalk, Naegi still clinging to his protector. Other members of their class were clustered at the other end.

She nodded at them all. "My room."