"A-Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but just… a little anemic."

Come on.

Come on!

There's no way that was unintentional!

Hajime examined Komaeda closely as he slowly crossed the room and disappeared into the kitchen area. His steps were withdrawn yet prideful—almost resembling the gait of a king marching to the gallows.

Hajime winced at the analogy, which certainly wasn't the most appropriate, especially given the circumstances.

No… that's not right!

If I back down, there's no chance I'll win!

And I need to win.

And…

Hajime stared at the back of Komaeda's head, eyes tracing tufts of messy, almost-too-white-to-be-real locks.

It's not just for myself, really.

It's for… his freedom. Justice.

If he really is innocent, there's no way I can just sit back and watch the real culprit walk free.

Hajime bit his lip, the gears in his head turning at a rapidly increasing pace. After some consideration, he determined the best way to continue would be through methods he was all-too-familiar with.

Cross-examination style.

"So, you're anemic," Hajime said, the pitch of his voice dropping towards the end of the statement to make it seem more like an uncertain answer that he sought to confirm.

"Correct," Komaeda responded, his tone considerably softened by the distance yet not lacking that usual bemused flair it constantly carried.

Alright.

I'm off to a good start.

I just have to keep going and pray that he's interested enough to go with me.

"Then, with that in mind, I think it's reasonable for me to ask if you take any… medications to combat the symptoms you sustain from your condition, right? Pills, maybe?"

It was quite obvious what Hajime was alluding to. Painfully obvious, even.

But that was intentional, of course.

"You're absolutely correct," Komaeda said. Something about it was odd. It didn't sound quite like his usual instinctual praise, and that combined with the lacking face-to-face element of this particular interaction made it difficult for Hajime to tell whether it was even intended to come off as anything even close to encouragement. "And… if you're anemic, the most logical course of action would be to take medication, hm?"

Hajime suppressed a sigh.

Of course. Komaeda actually answering all his questions without any of the dodging or weaving was nothing more than a distant dream.

"Well, that much is obvious," Hajime muttered, his words scented with the tiniest traces of sarcasm.

"But I did answer you, right, Hinata?" Komaeda insisted almost childishly.

"But it's not enough," Hajime countered almost immediately. "I'm aware of what's logical and what's not."

Well, for the most part, anyway.

Hajime pushed back his insecurities temporarily and continued. "Still, what I'm not aware of is whether someone like you would adhere to that sort of logic."

"That's…" Komaeda trailed off, rendered essentially speechless for a moment. "That's just to be expected of me, huh? My ambiguity frustrates you, doesn't it? I frustrate you, don't I?"

Suddenly, Hajime was met with the familiar urge to point his index finger and raise an ebullient objection.

He's wrong.

It was the truth.

Nagito Komaeda had his ways of determining things on his own, though he would rarely ever voice any of it. He struck Hajime as the perceptive type who picks up on the tiniest of things and just knows with not much else to it.

But this time, Hajime could proudly conclude that Komaeda didn't know everything.

If anything, when it came to matters regarding Komaeda to Komaeda himself…

He's just as naive as I am.

Maybe worse.

"...I'll admit, sometimes, the things you do can frustrate me," Hajime acknowledged. "But, as a person…"

His heart skipped a beat. Maybe even two.

Because, at this point, Komaeda had turned around to face him. His eyes were pulled completely open, pupils widened to match his apparent bewilderment. Taken out of context, anyone could easily mistaken Komaeda's expression for one belonging to someone who's just experienced a world-bending revelation.

The effect it had on Hajime was unnaturally powerful. The words he'd been so ready to declare had died on his lips, decomposing to the point of being incomprehensible.

"B-Basically, what I'm trying to say is…" Hajime took a deep breath, predicting that what he was about to say would receive a strong reaction from the other. "I don't hate you, Komaeda."

Oddly enough, Hajime's prediction was incorrect. Komaeda diverted his expectations by remaining silent, that awed look never leaving his face.

Komaeda did nothing but just stand there and stare. His hands were gripping the neck of a bottle made from tinted glass—Hajime could assume it contained yet another non-alcoholic beverage.

It was too much, and still enough to capture and hold Hajime's eye contact for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, Hajime cut through the silence with a clearing of his throat.

"I, uh, think we should get back on topic," he suggested. It was a simple and logically sound diversion tactic. Kirigiri would probably be proud.

However, just as Hajime was about to give himself a mental pat on the back for his quick thinking, that supposedly foolproof diversion was dashed to pieces after a single question left Komaeda's mouth.

"Was I making you uncomfortable?"

His tone was sincere, though Hajime was certain his words were almost always used in a sarcastic context.

He considered the question again.

Sort of?

The interlude was uncomfortable, yes, but in its own special way. Whether it was good or bad, Hajime didn't have the slightest.

Still, he needed an answer. Hajime decided it would be best to push aside his somewhat-prickly nature for the time being in order to ensure better cooperation from Komaeda.

"No," he responded as smoothly as he could manage.

Komaeda nodded and emerged from the kitchen, with one arm held behind his back. He settled back down onto his seat and Hajime raised an eyebrow.

"Two, this time?" He inclined his head towards the pair of wine glasses sitting on the coffee table.

Komaeda chuckled, the sound soft and light. Hajime could hardly fathom the possibility of that laugh belonging to a cold-hearted murderer—or maybe he just didn't want to.

"I thought it'd be a good investment."

Hajime hummed and watched Komaeda fill both glasses with a light pink liquid. It looked almost exactly like actual Rosé, save for the slight difference in color intensity.

They both escaped back into silence, though it was a different flavor of quiet than the one previous.

The glasses were gradually beginning to drain. Hajime peered over the rim of his glass to notice Komaeda staring down at the bottom of his own. Wariness swam through the foggy depths of his eyes, and it was impossible to determine the cause of it.

Hajime put the glass down. The previously-sweet drink was now starting to feel sour and bitter on his tongue.

"That's enough digression, for now," Hajime announced, hoping to regain some of his assertiveness. "Right now, all I know for sure is that you're anemic. There's a possibility that this detail might be of use to us—again, I'm not sure exactly how yet—so any clarification would be optimal."

Komaeda just nodded, making it evidently clear that Hajime would have to do most of the talking.

Whatever. Not like it matters too much to me.

"So, please, Komaeda. Answer the question: do you or do you not take pills for your anemia?"

The ghost of a smirk played upon Komaeda's lips as the arm that was initially tucked away behind his torso was brought into view. And, in his hand was…

POP!

The lid was screwed open. Two circular pills came tumbling out of the opening, landing neatly in Komaeda's waiting palm.

Hajime stared at those pills for a little while until an invisible light bulb began to flash in his mind—a good sign that something new was about to be revealed.

"Those look… oddly familiar, don't you think?" Hajime asked satirically.

Of course, those pills were familiar.

Because Hajime had recently obtained one just like it.

"Mhmm," Komaeda responded nonchalantly. The label of the bottle—the pill bottle—was now facing Hajime. Surely enough, it read 'Hydroxocobalamin' in white bolded letters.

But I think it's safe to assume that the answer to my question is a yes.

And with that, something else can be confirmed.

"It's true, then. You're the one who brought the Hydroxocobalamin to the crime scene that night?"

Komaeda took a swig from his glass and swallowed both pills along with the cider, delaying his response by a few seconds.

"That's correct, Hinata."

Hajime breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally glad that ordeal's taken care of.

But… I'm not even halfway to the bottom of this whole disaster yet. I just have to keep on digging.

"How often and at what time do you usually take your pills?" Hajime pressed.

"Every night," Komaeda answered, his reply unusually prompt. "That is, if I don't forget to take them."

Hajime leaned back into the couch, his face tilted up to the ceiling as he sunk into his thoughts once again.

From what I just observed, he takes his pills with a liquid of some sort every night. Apparently, he's not so consistent with his routine, either, so that opens up a tiny hole in my reasoning.

Regardless, it's very likely that Komaeda brought that Hydroxocobalamin to the Devil's Turnabout on the night of the murder.

And from that, it's also likely that his paying the bar a visit was planned beforehand, as well, which explains why he thought ahead to bring his pills with him.

Hajime bit his lip hard, but not quite hard enough to draw blood. He felt a slight itch at the back of his mind—an itch that, more often than not, signified that there was something that was going over his head. An absent link, essentially.

Just try to remember, he repeatedly told himself. Something's missing.

But where was he supposed to look for that missing element?

Wait. That first night, when I met Komaeda—it feels like so long enough, even though it was just a few days ago—we went over the events of the murder briefly. He was unclear about a lot of things, but… something, in particular, stood out to me.

Hajime squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, hoping the momentary blindness would help him focus and recall better.

"There's supposed to be more, right?"

"Of course, there is."

"Then tell me!"

...

"Then, I dissolved a couple of pills in the glass."

Suddenly, Hajime's eyes flew open. A wide grin found its way onto his face, forming from the feeling of pure pleasure he was experiencing from finally finding that missing link.

"'A couple of pills in the glass,' huh?"

Komaeda smiled too, though his was formed from a subtle sort of satisfaction than Hajime's. That knowing look was clear in his eyes, which was pretty rare. "Why? Are you… onto something?"

Hajime laughed, his grin morphing into a teasing smirk. "You totally did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Komaeda's eyebrows shot up as he held out his arms in mock surrender. "What did I do? What could you possibly be talking about, Hinata?"

Another laugh escaped from his mouth—Hajime really couldn't control it.

Of course.

Classic, Komaeda.

Not specifying what type of pill, not specifying whose glass said pills were dissolved in…

Another one of his games, I guess.

And now… I know. That information really was important, but I would've never known why before!

Those pills Komaeda was referring to—if he was telling the truth—are the Hydroxocobalamin tablets!

The deduction felt incredible to shed light upon. Not only was Hajime glad to have collected another piece of the Maizono Murder Case puzzle, but also…

"Do you know what this means, Komaeda?"

Now, Komaeda was genuinely curious. "Do you know?"

"W-Well, obviously. I was the one to ask, after all," Hajime mumbled, his testy side taking control temporarily. "But I… I think there's hope for this case, after all."

Hajime was slightly embarrassed by revealing this sentiment. It was natural, after all, for someone as guarded as him to express reluctance to showing earnest emotion beyond the shallowest points. His eyes were downcast, showing unnatural interest in the swirly patterns on the marble floors.

"Hinata… hearing that from you makes me truly glad. It makes me wonder why you would want to associate yourself with someone like me, anyway," Komaeda said after a period of silence. "Ah, but it wasn't exactly your decision, so—"

"That's wrong."

Hajime could hardly even understand himself and what he was saying. Those words had come so naturally out of his mouth, it was almost second nature.

But it's true, isn't it?

"I was… assigned this case, yes, but if you really were the repulsive person you claim to be, I would've just dropped it altogether," Hajime reasoned.

"...but you didn't."

"Exactly." Hajime offered him a slight nod in affirmation, busting out a small smile for good measure. "You get it, yeah?"

"I… I think..." Komaeda trailed off, and their roles of 'confident and not' were swapped in an instant. That air of conviction and almost smugness had fallen away, revealing the vulnerabilities that laid beneath. Of course, there was a possibility that there were more acts and this was just the tip of the iceberg, but something about that look in his eyes and the pinkish tint on his cheeks was telling Hajime that what he was seeing was genuine, or at least, for the most part.

I think I can manage without a verbal answer to that question.

"A-Alright, moving on…" Hajime winced at the stutter returning to his voice and reluctantly admitted to himself that his little burst of courage had fizzled out. "It's likely that the witnesses are going to include details about seeing you with those pills as a main talking point to prove your guilt. And, to be fair, it's not the dumbest of ideas, either, because—"

"It'd only be perjury if they specified any further," Komaeda interjected, effortlessly finishing Hajime's sentence.

"Right."

Although, there's technically nothing physically stopping those witnesses from committing perjury. There are only consequences if they're caught doing it, and the only way to catch them in their lies is through evidence.

Hajime clenched both fists and pressed them against the armrests of the couch. A temporary shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins.

It was clear that he didn't know everything yet. In fact, one could argue that he wasn't even close.

Still, there was one thing that Hajime was determined to believe.

Nagito Komaeda is innocent.

He has to be. Or at least, I want him to be, though I'll have to defend him in court either way.

"A good defense attorney has to have some motivation to defend," Yukizome would say.

And, as with most things, she was right.

That motivation has to come from trust. My trust in his innocence has to stand strong; my trust in him as a person poses little to no relevance.

But first, I have to sort a few things out. Like, for example…

"Something about this doesn't sit quite right with me," Hajime pointed out. He pulled out his timeline covered in notes, transcripts of Saihara's account, and dozens of arrows connecting them all hastily scribbled onto the page and pointed to one specific section of it. "The bartender's gone for a few minutes before coming back and filling a glass of water for the victim as per the suspect's suggestion. He gives the glass to her, she drinks it, and dies a few minutes after."

"And what of it?" Komaeda wondered.

Hajime shook his head. "I just found it odd. Up until now all of us—Saihara, I, and probably everyone else investigating this case—have been under the assumption that the poisoned substance was Maizono's wine," he began. "But, this hardly makes sense, given some of the evidence we already have. Maizono only started displaying symptoms of… whatever poison was put into his drink after she came back from the restroom, which also happens to be long after she finished her wine, too."

Now, it was Komaeda's turn to hold up his end of the debate that Hajime didn't plan on initiating. "But she told us she wasn't feeling well right after she returned, right? Wouldn't that allude to the wine being the poisoned drink?"

"Well… perhaps, but what really stood out to me was a different drink entirely."

Komaeda's eyes began to sparkle in fascination, almost like a mere spectator to a murder mystery rather than an active participant in one. "Really?"

Hajime nodded. "Yes. That glass of water that was given to Maizono just a few moments before her death, to be more specific."

"Hm… so, you're saying the water was the poisoned substance, not the wine?"

"Basically." Hajime scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, it's just speculation, obviously, but just couldn't ignore it."

What Hajime failed to mention was the fact that Komaeda was the one to suggest Maizono have that particular glass of water in the first place, which he suspected to be what led to her demise.

Oh. Right.

Hajime sighed, his shoulders slumping and his resolve weakening ever so slightly.

I thought Komaeda was probably innocent before after finding out about the Hydroxocobalamin, but if my theory's correct, he would look even guiltier. Especially in front of a jury.

And, with that, Komaeda was pushed right back to the brink of innocence and guilt once again. It was a balancing act—every time something new was uncovered, he would tilt from one side to the another then back again.

But, of course, it was impossible for Komaeda to remain on the edge forever. At some point, he would be shoved to either side.

And if he ends up on the wrong side by the time the dust clears…

Hajime gulped, nervous dread pooling up in his stomach.

I don't know what I'll do.

"You don't look so well," Komaeda suddenly commented, forcefully removing Hajime from his thoughts. He chuckled. "I wonder if you're the type to get seasick easily."

Hajime raised a questioning eyebrow. Seasick? Where did that come from?

"I mean, I've never gone on a boat before, so I'm not super familiar with the feeling," Hajime admitted.

"Well, don't worry about that. You're not missing out on anything, really," Komaeda remarked. "Boats, airplanes… they make me.." He paused, an indecipherable emotion crossing his face for a split second. "Uneasy."

There's something more to it, Hajime's subconscious told him. Something he's hiding, but not necessarily voluntarily.

"Why?" Hajime asked. "I-If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Komaeda let out a long exhale and avoided eye contact, leading Hajime to believe he wasn't going to respond.

But, as per typical Komaeda fashion, he diverted Hajime's expectations once again.

"The last time I went on an overseas trip was almost 10 years ago," he began. "My parents had just gotten a considerably large deposit, so they decided to take a vacation to Hawaii and dragged me along with them."

Hajime couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit jealous. His family was practically the definition of middle-class—perfectly average in terms of income with a perfectly average son.

They'd been on several domestic trips around the country, though those experiences weren't necessarily unforgettable.

Maybe if I make it as a lawyer for Hope's Peak, I'll be able to get a taste of the high life, Hajime mused. I guess that's only just a fantasy, though, huh?

"And then?"

"Then, uh…" Komaeda drummed his fingers against the stem of his glass, producing taps in perfect rhythm. "Our flight was hijacked."

If Hajime was still drinking his imitation-Rosé, he would've probably spit it out out of pure shock.

"S-Seriously!?" he exclaimed incredulously, in disbelief that Komaeda could bring up such a catastrophic event nonchalantly.

"Yes," Komaeda affirmed. "It's a shame, really. They never did catch whoever was behind the whole scheme."

Hajime's eyebrows were pushed up his forehead to the point where they nearly met his hairline.

That's what he's most concerned about?

In that sort of situation, survival should be the priority!

Hajime expressed his opinion and Komaeda simply shrugged.

"Whether I was going to live or not wasn't the biggest issue at the time, nor is it now," he said a matter of factly, his lips quirking upwards in a small smile as if he wasn't discussing a potentially traumatic childhood experience. "I knew there was something fate had in store for me."

"...so?"

Komaeda laughed humorlessly, shaking his head as he did so. "Right after the culprits escaped, the plane crashed."

Hajime didn't give a response, because just didn't have one. So, Komaeda took this as a cue to continue.

"I was the only one who survived the crash."

Hajime frowned, the harsh realization beginning to settle in. "Then, your parents…?"

"Died. Both of them."

The way Komaeda spoke about his late parents was off-putting. It was almost like he didn't even regard them as being even remotely related to him, let alone being immediate family.

Needless to say, that jealousy from earlier had completely disappeared, and in its place was pity.

Forget being rich. I… I should be grateful that I still have my family.

Finally, Hajime was able to pinpoint exactly what was off about Komaeda.

He's… lonely.

Maybe he didn't care too much about his parents, but subconsciously… it seems like he's missing that sort of connection.

But, Hajime could only take his own theory with a grain of salt. He wasn't the worst at reading emotion, but he wasn't the best, either.

"To be fair, I should've seen it coming," Komaeda added. "Those sorts of things happen every time. They just… have to."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Hm… well…" Komaeda put down his glass and rested his chin on his curled-up fist. "Can I ask you a question?"

Just go with it, a voice in Hajime's head urged.

"Sure."

"Would you consider yourself a lucky person, Hinata?"

Where's he trying to go with this?

"Um… sometimes? I mean, I guess I do get lucky from time to time, but it's not that big of a deal."

"I see," Komaeda remarked thoughtfully. "Now, can I ask you another question?"

"Go ahead."

"Would you consider yourself an unlucky person?"

Why? Hajime silently wondered.

"It's the same thing, basically," Hajime answered. "I get unlucky sometimes, yeah, but why does it matter?"

"You see, Hinata…" Komaeda placed a pale hand above his heart, fingers outstretched upon his chest. "I'm both."

"How, exactly?"

"Good luck, bad luck… it's all part of a cycle, always on either end of the extreme," Komaeda explained. "Sometimes I think I have it figured out, but then something ends up throwing a wrench into the whole loop."

He's either extremely lucky or extremely unlucky.

That must explain what happened with his plane's crash, his parent's deaths, and his survival.

Hajime wasn't the type of person to believe in pre-determined fate. He liked to think that he was in complete control of his mind, body, and actions, and therefore in complete control of the outcomes, as well.

I… I guess I never really wanted to entertain the idea that there could be other determining factors that are out of my control.

Like luck, for example.

"So, your luck constantly shoves you into life or death situations? How can you even consider that as luck?"

"My luck gets me in trouble, but it gets me out of it, too," Komaeda added. "But it's not always fateful, you know?"

Do I know?

"Like, that ball over there," Komaeda pointed to the baseball on the bookshelf, "I lied about that, because I didn't catch it. It hit me right in the face, actually."

Hajime winced, imagining the pain of a baseball flying at 50 miles per hour colliding with his cheekbone. "So, that was bad luck, I imagine?"

"Mhmm! And, of course, the good luck was getting the ball signed," Komaeda added before sighing. "Although, I can't say that signature would hold much value today, if any at all."

"A fall from grace, then?"

"Essentially."

Huh. I guess that's interesting, but I can't say it's important enough to press on.

Same with his supposed luck cycle. I don't think it'd hurt to examine it a little, just for the sake of it. If I'm going to associate myself with him and his case, it's just… due diligence. Sort of.

"Then…" Hajime's eyes wandered to the clock, his half-heavy eyelids raising slightly upon coming to the realization that it was nearly midnight. "I think I should get going."

Komaeda pulled his lips into an exaggerated frown. "Aw, that's a shame. I was going to ask if you'd like to come to Eleven Madison with me."

Hajime blinked, taking a few moments to just sit there and stare.

Eleven Madison Park!?

What's with these goddamn rich people and their ridiculously expensive restaurants?

"N-No thanks, maybe some other time," Hajime politely declined, adding that last bit out of pure instinct. Unfortunately, Komaeda latched onto it in an instant.

"Really? You'd want to?" Komaeda asked in disbelief, his eyes wide and so blindingly innocent to the point where Hajime didn't know what he was supposed to say.

I'm a lawyer! Besides this case, I have so much more to do! I don't have an unlimited number of nights to spend at these kinds of places!

But taking one more look at Komaeda's eyes made it evidently clear that Hajime didn't have the heart to turn him down.

"I… I guess? Just… not tonight, okay?" Hajime finally mumbled.

Komaeda beamed. That overjoyed smile of his was all Hajime needed to see to know that he (probably) had made the right decision.

"Thank you so much, Hinata! You don't know how much this means to me, so please don't worry about the money! It's my treat!"

But he's the one who's paying…

So why does he feel like I'm the one who's doing him a favor?

My company can't possibly be that extraordinary, can it?

"D-Don't worry about it," Hajime insisted, his cheeks burning up from the oddly-growing tension between the two.

As he began to pack up his things, Hajime could hear Komaeda rambling about the dinner… appointment he had in mind.

"Would tomorrow night work for you? It is Friday, after all!"

"Ah, then again, I wouldn't want to interrupt plans you might have with people of higher importance on such a significant night…"

"But what about Saturday? U-Unless you enjoy having your weekends free, that is! In that case, I think maybe it's best that we—"

"Friday's fine," Hajime finally interjected, wanting to end Komaeda's seemingly endless cycle of doubt.

Seriously, though. 'People of higher importance?' I'm a rookie lawyer, not a celebrity!

Without warning, Komaeda reached out and grasped both of Hajime's hands in his own and squeezed them tightly. The simple act reminded Hajime of their first meeting at Grand Central Terminal. It was weird and slightly unnerving then, but now…?

"Great! I'll be looking forward to it!"

Hajime just nodded dumbly before finally stuttering out a coherent response. "L-Likewise."

As he watched Komaeda's grin double in intensity, Hajime couldn't help but wonder what the hell just happened.

I'm going to have dinner with a murder suspect.

The whole reason this is happening in the first place is my own carelessness.

I shouldn't have gotten his expectations up, but now, there's nothing I can do to bring them back down again without hurting him in some way.

Slowly and nervously, Hajime returned the smile.

This is just… further investigation! I'm only trying to analyze his psyche!

Because, if Komaeda really is the mystery he seems to be…

I have no choice but to figure him out.

A/N:

"Damn these rich people."

— Probably Haruhi Fujioka, at some point.

In all seriousness, I really hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and the romance doesn't seem too forced! It's pretty difficult to integrate the right amounts of murder mystery and romance into the plot, so it's pretty easy to end up with an imbalance of the two.

This chapter was sort of a relationship-development one, so you could probably tell that it's a little more romance-heavy.

Lol, this is kind of unrelated, but if you're looking for a published murder mystery novel to read, I definitely recommend the 7 ½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, (or 7 Deaths, depending on where you live.) It's one of the best books I've read in a while, for sure.

Again, I absolutely love it when you comment/review! It makes my day, so please feel free to share your thoughts on the story so far!