After I woke up, I was disoriented and felt numb. I felt so weak that I could barely lift my head.

Why was I inside such a small space when I woke up? It felt hard and uncomfortable, leaving me feeling trapped even once the top of my confinement opened on its own.

I had just enough time to see someone lean over me before I lost consciousness again.

Next time when I awakened, I was in a hospital bed. I could lift my head enough to take in three blank windowless walls, with a door on the fourth side. Next, I tried to look at myself to determine why I felt so strange. My hospital gown was too big on me and covered my legs so I could only see my feet poking out further down. My right arm looked fine aside from the needle supplying IV fluids. My left arm… was not there. A little past my shoulder, bandages wrapped around me tightly. From what I saw of the outermost layer, only the tiniest bit of dried reddish brown blood was able to leak that far.

Huh, that's unusual. I wonder how long it's been gone.

My thoughts were able to flow at what I considered a normal rate. They were not delayed by grogginess or intense confusion. Yet I didn't feel a panic as I logically knew I should. I also didn't feel pain, likely due to the IV in my remaining arm. I felt the sensation of pressure where the bandages were wound the tightest, but nothing more.

After sitting alone in that room for a bit, memories of the past started trickling back, but no emotions were attached to them. It started chronologically. First, my name and my early childhood when my dog died. Then, a few years later when my family's vacation ended up with me as an orphan. Following that was my survival after being kidnapped by a serial killer. My diagnoses of both lymphoma and frontotemporal dementia was next, and acceptance into Hope's Peak Academy.

The academy is where my memories come to a stop. I could remember why I was accepted; I was the Ultimate Lucky Student. That's the only reason my diagnoses hadn't killed me yet.

But, I had amnesia of the time between entering the academy and waking up now. When a nurse came in a while later, she explained to me that my classmates were here, and that they struggled to regain their memories. But from the way she said it, it seemed like they refused to visit me to enlighten me on what may have caused my amnesia and what I have forgotten.

Surely, they must have interacted with me enough at school to tell me at least a little of what I'm missing in these memory gaps.

The nurse left to get some food for me, and brought back a mechanic as well. He spoke of the potential of a prosthetic arm for me, but neither the nurse nor the mechanic stayed long after the explanation was complete and saw I had no further questions. They avoided talking about what happened to my arm when I brought it up. Neither had introduced themselves.

Thinking back to my classmates I pondered why they might not be visiting me.

Perhaps it's just that they can't physically move around yet, like me. But when the nurse and mechanic approached me, I could tell they were being cautious. Are they afraid of hurting me? Or of me hurting them? I don't understand. Is it because my arm is missing and they pity me?

The best description of what I felt was apathy. I didn't particularly care emotionally about regaining my memories or getting a prosthetic arm. I felt more of a curiosity, as if it wasn't my own life I was experiencing.

~*~

Several days passed and I was still in the hospital bed. I could move my remaining arm and lean forward a bit, but I was given orders from the nurse to rest as much as possible, despite feeling like doing anything but that. I wanted to get out of this room that i'd been in since I woke up. The small stack of books available were all incredibly boring by then, having read them each twice over. I requested more reading material but only one or two books had been added at a time. Surely, it had been at least a week since I first woke up and was taken here, and it was getting to me.

Is this anger? No, that's too strong. Agitation? Yes. Not being permitted to leave this room is an inconvenience that agitates me. I wonder what the wait is for. They have neither overtly said that my memories need to be regained in order to leave, nor that my prosthetic arm is a required procedure that demands I stay. Shouldn't I have a say in where I go and what I do?

When I voiced my thoughts to the nurse, she apologized and said, "A decision hasn't been made yet as to when you can leave this room."

I asked her whose decision it was, if not my own, and she responded rather cryptically that it was out of her control. Almost as if it was beyond the entire medical staff's control.

~*~

The only people to have entered my field of vision since awakening were the nurse, the mechanic, and before that, a strange man with a spike in his hair and heterochromia; one eye hazel and the other a dark red. He was the one who woke me up when I was in that capsule, I think. He visited a little while ago. Like the others, he seemed kind, but cautious. The topics he brought up were interesting at first. He went more into detail about the type of prosthetic options for me, including a robotic one that I would be able to control if I had it attached soon, before the wound fully closed and the shoulder formed scar tissue.

He asked me if I felt pain when I moved my shoulder in different ways, or if it was at all uncomfortable. His questions began to bore me, so I decided to bring up a topic of my own.

"When can I get a wheelchair to go around outside this room? Can I at least get a different room that has a window?"

He seemed to hesitate before nodding his consent, "I'll see what I can do."

~*~

A few days later, I awoke to feeling my hospital bed being rolled. I was out of my room, but still laying on the uncomfortable bed. Inquisitively, I turned my stiff neck to see who was pushing me, and what the rest of the hospital looked like. Before I could get a good look at my surroundings, we had arrived at our apparent destination. Just before the door closed behind me, I felt a draft. It was warmer than the temperature I had gotten used to at the hospital, but not uncomfortably so. It was then that I noticed it was the man from yesterday who had taken me here, and that the airflow I felt wasn't a heater in the room, but was wind gently blowing inside from the open window of the room we currently occupied.

Despite my usual apathy, I felt something like… happiness? At the realization that one of my requests had been fulfilled. I thanked the man, and he nodded without saying anything.

Before he was about to leave, I decided I had another request. "Could you please tell me your name? I'm Nagito. For some reason, the other two I've seen haven't introduced themselves even when I asked."

I gazed at his hazel eye as I spoke, waiting somewhat patiently for an answer. After all, what could I do other than wait?

Warily, he answered, "... I'm Hajime."

"Nice to meet you, Hajime. I hope we can be friends," I responded automatically, politely.

Hope? Friends?

The words sounded strange after they left my lips. I intended to ask him if he might know why those words made me feel uneasy.

Did something in my past create a negative impression of those words?

When I opened my mouth to inquire, though, I screamed. It was startling to me, and I panicked, not knowing why I was screaming. Hajime called for the nurse; she approached me quickly and I felt a needle jab into my arm. After a moment, my thoughts started to drift away as my screaming died down. I had a surreal calmness blanket my mind, and even though I knew it was artificial, I appreciated the opportunity to think more clearly.

Why did I react that way?

I couldn't remember when I might have acquired an aversion to those words. Was it a long time ago? Is that why I couldn't remember? Or was it lost along with the rest of my memories of Hope's Peak?

"Do you want me to say 'yes, I'm crying because I was worried sick about my friend and now I won't be able to see him for who knows how long?"

I could feel a memory almost surface. As if it was teasing me, like putting food in front of a starving person only to take it away the moment they reach towards it. The memory - if it could be called that - was not of my own voice speaking. It was much higher pitched, most likely a female friend.

Why did I assume the voice was from a friend rather than just a classmate or teacher? Did I know the speaker?

A flash of pink hair with a pixelated barrette filled my vision, only to disappear right after.

Is someone else in the room? No… That must have been my imagination producing that image. Was it of someone lost in my memories?

I tried concentrating; I wanted to bring back that fleeting vision, if only to uncover what I'd forgotten.

"Nagito, please, we have to keep going!"

I gasped, hearing that voice again made me feel that much closer to remembering my past. But the effort of trying to remember was also causing a distracting throbbing in my head. If I was able to feel pain, i'm sure it would have been more accurate to call it a headache.

If I could only match the voice with the image of that person… That pink hair and barrette that seems as if it came from winning at an arcade game…Winning?

"I'm being suspended indefinitely, but everyone else gets to have their exams delayed. Everyone wins now!"

This time, it was my own voice that I heard, like an echo. In the background, I heard screaming again and someone saying to get another sedative, but I ignored it.

I'm so close… I know this is a memory of Hope's Peak Academy! Just a little more…!

"I'm afraid to lose you. I don't want you to go away."

Though the thoughts resonated with me, they were once again in the other's voice. The agonizingly slow revelations of memories had my throbbing head worsening till I broke out of my trance to lean over and vomit. Even after the meager contents of my stomach were gone, I dry heaved onto the floor beside my bed. I saw what I assumed were not hallucinations of the nurse approaching with another needle, and Hajime standing near me. They both had concerned looks on their faces, and when they noticed me looking at them, Hajime sent the nurse away to retrieve some cleaning supplies for the mess I made.

He looked into my eyes, and I looked back between his red eye and then over to his hazel eye, repeating this until I felt I might be able to speak. I coughed a few times, and asked for water, which he grabbed from a small table at the end of my bed. After taking a few cautious sips and making sure my stomach didn't object, I tried again.

"I need to know who that was."

He frowned, asking, "The nurse?"

"No," I shook my head gently; it was still throbbing despite my nausea having gone down. "I need to know who the pink-haired girl is."

Hajime had a surprised expression on his face before looking away.

Had I imagined it?

"You need to rest for now. I think having a room with a window might not be as good for you as I initially thought, but if you can rest and stay mentally well, we can move forward with the procedure." Hajime's voice was kind but firm.

Confused for a second, I almost asked what the procedure was for, before I remembered that I no longer had one of my arms. Looking down at where my left shoulder ended in bandages, and the arm should have been, I decided that I needed to have my memories back more urgently than I needed to have my arm replaced.

"Please, I know I'm just worthless trash, but I need to know who it was that I saw."

Worthless trash? Since when was I so… self-deprecating? Is this how I was before my memories were lost?

"I guess I can add 'idiot' to the list of things that make me trash."

"Aaaargh! That was not my point! Can you not put yourself down for just one conversation?"

This time my words triggered a memory of the pink-haired girl and myself conversing. I held in the cry that threatened to burst forth, partially because my throat wouldn't allow it due to the recent screaming and vomiting, but mostly so that I wouldn't be denied my need to remember. My breathing became slightly erratic, so I held in my breath to try and appear calm.

"That girl..." Hajime began to speak, the hesitation in his voice was almost tangible.

Suddenly, I remembered. Everything. I breathed out the words as they came to me. "Her name was Chiaki." Tears had started to gather rapidly, and soon, it felt like unending despair was flowing from my eyes.

Memories flooded back to me, overwhelming me. I felt like I was truly feeling emotions and physical sensations for the first time. The throbbing of my head became a migraine. The throat that felt hoarse before now had an acidic burn to accompany it. My stump of an arm felt as if it was on fire. They combined with the vague memories I already had, and crashed upon me the memories that had eluded me until just then. I felt all of the happiness, all of the worry, all of the emotions and pain, all of the hope, and all of the despair combined into one devastating blow that knocked the air out of me. The scream I had tried to hold back came out as a strangled sob, turning me into a blubbering mess when I couldn't hold back anymore. Apologies fell from my mouth like verbal vomit.

"I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry I was too late…!"

I remembered the horrifying spray of blood bursting from her countless wounds all at once.

"I'm sorry I wanted to be your friend! I'm sorry I brought you only misery!"

I remembered her scolding me after I set up the bombing at the exams.

The fact that she cared enough to explain why she was worried should have been enough for me to realize that I shouldn't act so haphazardly!

"I'm sorry I dared to think of you as a stepping stone to hope when you are my only beacon of hope!"

I remembered the worst part about my reaction to her death; not relief at her no longer suffering from that torture, but relief that her agonizing execution could bring about a twisted hope.

"I'm sorry I became part of Despair! I'm so sorry!"

How could I have let an attempt at heroism in stopping the reserve students' revolt become the first, most despairful mistake I made?!

After what felt like an eternity of lamentation and regretful whimpers, I felt my energy deplete, leaving me numb once more. My breathing had returned more or less to a normal rate. I was starting to calm down, if only from exhaustion. My aching body felt like collapsing back onto the hard bed I sat on, but the sound of the room's other occupant clearing their throat made me pause.

"I think," A quiet voice began. Realizing Hajime was trying to say something, I tried to stifle my remaining sniffles to listen. Hajime began again. "I think, rather than drowning in despair, she would want you to believe in hope."

"Hope…" I tried to remember the emotions meant to be associated with the word, having had only despair fill me when I had spoken it moments before. I knew from my newly acquired memories that I had been obsessed with the very idea of hope. I could feel the concept filling my mind with a newfound serenity. My previous despair did not disappear, rather, the two coexisted within me. Finally remembering the last, most important detail my amnesia had stolen, I realized that hope really was what I craved, what I needed. And, I could feel it begin to take root in my heart. It was pleasant and motivating.

"She really was the Ultimate Hope to me." Drying my tears on the hospital gown, I continued, "No matter how much I regret my part in her death, I feel like you're right. That does seem like something she would say."

I paused thoughtfully, adding, "For now, I just need to grieve. But maybe then, I can start my repentance. Apologizing won't do any good, but knowing her, helping reduce the world's despair would be something she would have appreciated."

When no response was given, I looked up at Hajime, a small spark of warmth growing in my chest, "It's up to us to help spread hope."

We need to right our wrongs. Even if forgiveness is impossible for people like us, for the sake of hope, we must conquer despair.