"It Might Have Been"
When she woke, the first thing Kirigiri noticed was an awful pain in her lower spine. It was the kind of pinching pain that would go away if she gave her spine a good crack, but moving at all made it intensify. She stayed very still instead, blinking gunk out of her eyes. Her muddy brain sifted through the images her eyes delivered, trying to remember where she was and what she should be doing.
"Hmph. So much for keeping vigil," Togami scoffed from the chair next to hers. He had one long leg crossed over the other as he delicately lifted a mug off Naegi's desk and took a sip. "However, I will applaud you for not falling over."
She ignored him and squirmed until she found an angle that let her sit up without horrible pain. Her back sighed in relief as it left the hard angles of the chair's back.
"How long was I asleep?" she asked.
He shrugged. "A few hours. If you're not planning to fall asleep on me again though, I'll return to my room to rest. Some of us didn't sleep on the job."
She checked further down the wall where the window laid. The curtains were drawn, but there was a small gap in the center that allowed the morning sun to spill through. She gave her consent with a nod. Like her, Togami was no stranger to pulling an all-nighter, but still they felt the effects.
But there was no trace of exhaustion as Togami uncrossed his legs and rose. He walked with his usual swagger. Just before he opened the door however, he paused.
Togami said, "When Naegi finally wakes up, make him drink a bottle of water. Two, actually. I'm not sure if he there's any liquid left in his body after all that crying."
There was no mockery in his tone. It was simply fact. And it was the last thing Togami said before he left her there.
Kirigiri rubbed her eyes. She was sure she had put the pieces together. She and Togami had decided to keep watch during the night, but she had fallen asleep while he hadn't. Naturally, that implied that Togami had chosen to let her sleep and if that were true. . .
She pressed her palm into her forehead, letting the pressure stave off an approaching headache. If Togami had thought she had looked that bad, then she needed a session with Gekkogahara.
Although she had promised Togami to stay awake, something still tugged at her eyelids, making them heavy. She paced, letting her heartrate pick up, coaxing blood to pump through her arteries. Once her eyes were no longer trying to close, she took the extra steps required to bring her to Naegi's bedside.
It was Naegi's bed, but Naegi wasn't the thing that anyone would notice first. That honour belonged to Hagakure's snoring. Not surprising. He looked like the type to snore. Hagakure slept with his arms spread wide, though Asahina had claimed one in a loose headlock as she used his shoulder as a crude pillow. The Naegi siblings were on his other side. Naegi was tucked under an arm, hair tickling Hagakure's armpit. Komaru was sprawled halfway across her brother's body; there was a damp spot under her open mouth. Fukawa was nowhere to be found. That wasn't surprising either. Fukawa would only cuddle with Komaru and only when she was confident she wouldn't be caught. (Fukawa, of course, was no match for an Ultimate Detective.) Most likely, Fukawa had been spying on them nearby and had slunk after Togami.
She double-checked everyone was breathing, then returned to her chair to wait.
Asahina stirred first. The woman stretched her legs and opened her mouth in a huge yawn before rubbing her eyes. She dug an elbow into Hagakure's side as she propped herself up, but the man didn't wake.
"Oh," Asahina said as she took in the scenery. She blinked. "So, last night wasn't a bad dream."
Kirigiri shook her head. What would be the proper word for last night? An ordeal, perhaps. For once though, it hadn't been dangerous for her friends. Naegi had been screaming bloody murder at their upper classmen when they had finally arrived at Hotel Mirai, but he hadn't raised a finger in his classmates' direction. She hated to say it, but she had suffered some satisfaction at that.
Asahina was looking to her for direction, so Kirigiri said, "Togami-kun suggested Naegi-kun would be dehydrated when he woke up. I agree. If you can handle things here, I'm going to grab some water from the kitchen."
Asahina raised her chin proudly like Kirigiri had asked her to guard the prime minister. Kirigiri rose, smoothed her rumpled skirt, and left the room.
Upon stepping outside, a sense of wrongness swamped her. It was in the way the back of her skin prickled, in how it was a little too quiet. She wasn't alone. Something was watching her, and it wasn't Togami or Fukawa.
"I know you're there," she said into the wind. She waited, alert for any sound, any rustling clothing. The sound of the waves died away, as if they had heard her silent request for silence.
It didn't help in the end. Kamukura glided across the ground with nary a sound. If she hadn't already been looking, she wouldn't have detected him. He was the source of her unease, that was clear, for the air around him was shimmering with an unseen pressure. If she had been sleepy before, she wasn't anymore.
"I want to see him," he said.
"No." She put her body between him and Naegi's room. It would be little good if Kamukura wanted her to move, but it was still something. "You know better. I know you do."
He said nothing. He kept advancing. She dug her heels in, but her body felt weak, like she was a blade of grass that could only bend in a strong wind. And he was the maelstrom. A hair-rising pressure sloughed off him, like she was standing too close to an electric field.
"He's not awake," she said. She braced herself against the motel's wall with her arm, blocking the panther further. "You –"
"I want to see him." Every syllable was carefully enunciated. There was a sense of restraint, like before each word he had to consciously tell himself not to rip her arm off.
"You can't."
Slowly, he raised his arm. He placed his hand on her outstretched arm, and his fingers wound around her wrist and squeezed. The band around her wrist slowly grew tighter and she did not flinch, she did not show pain. She would not give him the opening.
"I. . ." His teeth grinded together. ". . . I need to see him."
She bared her teeth, too. "Why?"
He didn't answer her. The grip on her wrist tightened further, and she swore her bones shifted. But she refused to show it. Not to deceive Kamukura – he knew it hurt – but to keep herself strong.
He was so close to her. When he breathed, it heated her face.
"Move," he said.
Some primal part of her wanted to drop her gaze, to heed this force of nature. But she was a Kirigiri, proud and defiant. More importantly, she was a friend to those inside that room, and could not trust this Kamukura.
She eyed the hand on her wrist. Quietly, she asked, "Do you think this will make him like you again?"
The grip around her wrist hardened into a hot-white pressure so intense that she no longer felt pain. Then it was over. With a curl of his lip, Kamukura retreated. It didn't matter how much he wanted to see Naegi. Like her, his mind ran along the guiderails of logic and all the despair in the world couldn't completely take that from him.
"You didn't come here because you thought it was the right thing to do," she said. "So, why?"
"Why?" he rasped. "Why?"
He was as much mocking her as he was searching for a reason himself. How swiftly the balance of power had shifted. First, Naegi had denounced Class 77 instead of defending them, and now Kirigiri knew the answer to a question that Kamukura did not.
And so, she told him the answer. "You love him."
That searing pressure faltered. She'd grown used to it and not having it coat her skin made her uncomfortably cold. Nothing about Kamukura visibly changed, but something, somewhere did.
She sighed, releasing the built-up pressure in her lungs. "Come. Sit with me."
". . . On the ground?"
Point. She gestured with her eyes at the motel's dining room where there were real chairs.
Like her, Kamukura took his seat with perfect posture. Fitting. An uncomfortable position for an uncomfortable conversation. Her fingers drummed along the edge of the table as he kept his on his lap and out of sight. Abruptly, she remembered Naegi doing the same back on the boat. She also painfully remembered how she had seriously wondered if Naegi had been concealing a weapon.
"You should know your conclusion is fundamentally flawed," Kamukura said suddenly as he watched her through half-lidded eyes. "I do not feel –"
She cut him off. "Like you didn't for Nanami-san?"
That burst his bubble. He was wearing it again, that same muted anguish she had seen upon arriving at Hotel Mirai last night. It was majestic. But it was also frightening to see someone as legendary as Kamukura Izuru struggling to understand that he really was just another human.
"I know what you shouldn't feel," she said, "but what they say about you is meaningless. It's nothing but rumors. Truth lies in actions, in choices. You learn more from what a person chooses to omit than any written report, especially when it comes to you."
"You don't need buildup" he said. "State your theory."
"You're a senseless martyr," she said promptly. "You're so eager to throw yourself on the flames for those you treasure. Why is that? Do they mean that much to you, or do you mean so little to yourself?"
She didn't expect him to respond. It was a tough question to think about; tougher still to answer aloud. And indeed, he didn't. He just looked bored.
"You don't care that Naegi-kun tried to kill you. You'd let him try again if it pleases him."
"If it makes him feel better, then why not?" Kamukura said slowly, "After what I did to him, why deprive him of that release?"
"Because he has a real chance to succeed," Kirigiri said. "He's clever and most importantly, unpredictable. He may be the only person on this planet capable of killing you. You know that too, but you don't care because to you, that would be the commutation of your self-imposed sentence. That's what drives you, isn't it? Atonement for the crime you decided you committed years ago."
He didn't speak, nor did he move. He watched her.
"You always spoke of Nanami-san and yourself as if you were a team. You acted as if you decided everything together. As if you failed together. You never mentioned that Nanami-san went to that laboratory on her own. It's curious, isn't it? If Nanami-san's motive was to reverse your operation, why wouldn't you accompany her? How could she hope to accomplish her goal without you present?" She narrowed her eyes. "Why go alone unless you had refused her?"
His chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he were gasping for breath, but she heard no sound.
"You didn't know. She made the decision alone. You had no part in it. The people responsible for Nanami-san's death were the employees working in that lab, and Nanami-san herself."
A horrible screech drove itself into her eardrums. Kamukura was still seated, but that sound had undeniably been his chair's dragging across the ground as he pushed away from the table. If he wanted to spring, there would be nothing in his way.
"He deserves punishment," Kamukura said heavily. There was a strange cadence in this tone, a will to make her understand. "Hinata was nothing but a fool that lusted after talent. He sacrificed everything. He sacrificed her. And when I let down my guard, Hinata sacrificed him. But Hinata is gone again. I will make sure he stays gone."
Kirigiri was quiet as she observed the faintly pulsing swirls hidden in his eyes. How had Hope's Peak failed so badly and created this wretched creature?
"So, that's it then." Her arms crossed over her chest as she sunk deeper into her chair. "We're quite similar. We try to detach ourselves from emotion, but we cannot let go of our potent hated for the one we feel betrayed us. Our personalities are derived from the same mentality, and thus we have the same weakness."
"It's bold to claim we are the same," Kamukura said tonelessly and ah, there was that famed matter-of-fact arrogance.
"But we are. Don't you remember what happened on the voyage here? Not only did I fail to control my emotions, but I hardly understood I was lashing out because of them." She brushed her hair behind her shoulder. "That's the drawback, isn't it? By depriving ourselves of emotion, we also deprive ourselves of memories and experience to fall back upon. And so, when the time comes that we cannot control our feelings, we lack the ability to deal with them.
"It took me a long time to understand, but now that I've seen it grown in Naegi-kun, I do. You and him, this despair you exhibit, it's defensive. Naegi-kun feels afraid and helpless, so he becomes fearless and fixated on eliminating his enemies. You are overwhelmed by grief and your own self-loathing, so you retreat and deny your humanity and your part in it. Komaeda-kun has a similar story, too, doesn't he? Do you see what I'm saying? It was no coincidence that you three fell - it was always going to be you three. Because despair is a last-resort coping mechanism."
Kamukura's pinky tapped against the table. In anyone else, Kirigiri would dismiss it. But when it came from Kamukura, she knew she'd hit something.
"If this were true, you should be thankful," Kamukura droned. He stared at the wall as if bored. "Other people may have become angry at these accusations."
She didn't take the backhanded threat seriously. It had only been a couple of minutes ago that her life may genuinely have been in danger, but already the apathy – the despair – had claimed him again.
"If I have fallen into despair, then that would warrant treatment," Kamukura said suddenly, eyes glinting. "It would warrant Hope."
"No," she said before Kamukura worked up enough energy to make the trek to Naegi's room. "He is not your answer. He won't be your remedy because the Ultimate Despair was never your problem. It was always you. It began and will end with you, Hinata-kun."
Some life flickered in those eyes. "I am Kamukura Izuru."
"Is that what you think Naegi-kun says? Do you think he divides you into Kamukura Izuru and Hinata Hajime?" she said. "Or what of Nanami-san? She knew you before you restored your memories. If you and Hinata were truly separate, why would she had seen something in you worth saving?"
"Nanami-san had memories."
"And Naegi-kun?"
Kamukura adverted his gaze, acceding to her argument. In many ways, it was like a baring of his throat.
"Nanami-san gave you this life. If you want to atone, shouldn't you honor her and make something of it?"
He said nothing, but the skin over his knuckles tightened ever so slightly. There couldn't be a clearer sign that she needed to stop pushing for today.
"Leave Naegi-kun be," she told him as he stood up. "Don't follow me."
And as she finally returned to Naegi's room with two water bottles in hand, he didn't.
Knock knock.
The paired sound repeated a few more times, finally rousing Komaeda from his dreamless sleep. Huh. If he was this tired it must still be early. What rotten luck that someone would be knocking on his door at this time.
Still, if Ren insisted on having breakfast this early, then who would Komaeda be to deny him? After all, wasn't it Ren who - ?
That wasn't Ren.
"Oh! I wasn't sure if you would answer at this time. Not that I was trying to wake you up, I wasn't sure if you were sleeping here or. . ."
"Koizumi-san," Komaeda asked. "what is it? Did something happen?"
She laughed awkwardly. "No, nothing happened. Nothing else happened, at least. . . Anyways, if you're sleeping here, then you must have cleaned up your room."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not exactly. But I realized that if you put pile some blankets on the ground, it's basically a mattress."
"Oh. Um, do you mind I come in?"
"If that's what you want." Even as he agreed, he didn't move out of the doorway. He was too busy trying to understand why she would want that. "Are you sure nothing happened?"
"Nothing happened. It's just that last night. . . Umm, you said that your cabin had been trashed and that you were having a hard time cleaning it up with your injuries. So, I thought I'd come by and give you a hand." She said that part very quietly, like she was afraid God would smite her for it.
"Give me a hand," he repeated.
Her face went bright red. "Oh my gosh! I didn't mean to!"
He had no idea what she was talking about until he remembered his bandaged hands. "No, no, it's fine. I was just. . . I was a little confused. I appreciate it Koizumi-san, but you don't need to volunteer your time to help –"
"Yes, I -!" She bit her sentence off. "You can't do it alone, right? So, it only makes sense for someone to help out."
"I guess," he said dumbly, unable to refute her logic. "If that's what you want. Ah, where are my manner? Please, come in."
