Title inspiration: "What Is My Life" (Jacksepticeye Songify Remix) by Schmoyoho

Something rattled and clanged, sending reverberations through his pounding head. His hands pulled weakly and ineffectually at their bonds as he curled in on himself, instinctively attempting to clutch at his temples. A harsh light fell over him, piercing through his closed eyelids, and he groaned.

"Come on, boy, it's time to give you back."

Wait, what was happening again?

Makoto didn't have time to ponder that as a firm but surprisingly gentle hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the back of the car. The hand led him through a small maze of motorcycles and automobiles, and he stumbled over his own feet, struggling to keep up with the larger stride and struggling not to collapse right then and there. He was just really tired…

"Good enough for you, girlie?"

"Naegi?"

Makoto jolted. He knew that voice, though it didn't usually sound so concerned, which was a sign that he should probably also be concerned. He looked up from where he had been staring dazedly at his dust covered shoes, and felt his aching mind light up in joyful recognition.

Kirigiri...!

He attempted to call to her, attempted to rush up to her, but something over his mouth prevented any words, and the hand on his arm held him firmly in place.

Oh, now he remembered. He was being ransomed.

Kyoko Kirigiri and a whole squadron from the 14th Division stood at the far end of what had once been a city square, long since blown to rubble, like most things nowadays. At least three trucks' worth of supplies sat off center towards the middle of the square.

Facing Kirigiri and the squadron on the opposite end of the city square, a small clan of nomads waited tensely for permission to claim their prize. And with them stood (in the loosest sense of the word) Makoto, the key to that prize, hands bound behind his back and a strip of cloth preventing him from having any say in the current negotiations.

"He's a little worse for wear, but he's alive," the man holding Makoto's arm called out to Kirigiri. "Again, is this good enough for you, girlie?"

"It'll have to be," Kirigiri conceded shortly. "Send him over."

"All right. Go on then, boy."

The hand released Makoto's arm and gave him a shove. It wasn't all that rough of a shove, more like a nudge, but it still nearly sent Makoto falling face first onto the cracked and dusty tarmac.

"Careful," the man, the leader of the clan, warned. "You're almost home, boy, keep it together for just a little longer."

Makoto found himself nodding, despite how badly it aggravated his head. The clan leader was right. He was in the home stretch. He would have plenty of time to collapse on the other side of the city square. On unsteady legs and stumbling feet, Makoto began to make his way across the square and towards his friends and allies.

He ended up collapsing halfway across the city square.

"What the–?! Shimura, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Don't fire! Everyone stand down!"

The clan leader's and Kirigiri's shouts, though identifiably harsh and tense, sounded strangely muted in Makoto's ears. He groaned, pressing his forehead against the ground.

He needed to get back up.

He couldn't stay here.

But Makoto's body was reaching a limit, exhaustion warping his senses, fatigue ruining his motor functions. Makoto almost didn't even notice the new hand wrapping around his arm until it pulled him to his feet. Through blurring eyes, Makoto looked up to see one of the guys from the nomad clan holding on to his arm. Makoto even recognised him.

'Shimura,' his hazy mind provided.

Compared to the other people in the clan who Makoto had interacted with throughout his time as a hostage, Makoto judged he had probably interacted with this guy the least. The man just seemed to have gone out of his way to not interact with Makoto. Despite that, the man had also probably left the biggest impression on Makoto, and not only because he was the one who had given Makoto the broken nose.

It was his eyes. There was something barely contained behind the hard layer of darkness and desperation, something that made Makoto both fear the man and want to talk to him.

Or at least there had been something contained. As Makoto looked up at the man, he could see what it was that had been stirring in the man's eyes, what was now in full view for him to see and identify.

'Oh, god.'

Makoto's adrenaline surged, his mind and senses clearing abruptly, just in time for him to hear someone from the 14th Division shout, "He has a bomb!"

For a brief second, Makoto caught sight of the makeshift explosive that had been concealed by the man's jacket. He caught sight of the trigger in the man's left hand. Then, the man wrapped his free arm around Makoto's throat, pinning Makoto to his chest, back right up against the bomb, as he faced the clamouring 14th Division squad.

"I wouldn't advise shooting!" the man spat. "Not unless you want to risk hitting your Ultimate Hope!"

Even from this distance, Makoto could see Kirigiri's jaw tighten in a rarely seen combination of frustration and fear.

"Shimura, what the hell?!" the clan leader bellowed furiously.

The man laughed, a high pitched sound that sent chills down Makoto's spine. "I'm sorry, chief. Just know that I'm doing this for us. For the family."

Makoto writhed and thrashed in the man's grip. He wasn't trying to escape, he knew the odds of him being able to do that were abysmal, even without his less than lucky streak. But if he could just get the damned gag off–

"'For the family,' my ass!" the clan leader snapped. "You're ruining everything, you idiot!"

"Mr. Shimura," Kirigiri called, her voice cold but uncharacteristically tight. "Please drop the bomb trigger and release Makoto Naegi."

"Or what?" Shimura scoffed.

"Shimura, think about this," the clan leader said, voice lower but definitely just as pissed off. "What the hell do you think we'll gain from this?"

Makoto felt the man's body tremble. He heard another high pitched laugh rattle its way up Shimura's throat.

"Despair."

The word left Shimura in something close to a whisper. It only confirmed what Makoto had seen in the man's eyes, but it still made Makoto's heart drop into his stomach. If the tension in the city square had been noticeable before, it was damn near palpable now.

"Ma'am?" one of the 14th Division members called.

"Don't shoot," Kirigiri all but snapped.

Shimura laughed again, hugging Makoto closer to himself. "All I have to do is press this trigger, then me, the Ultimate Hope, and all these supplies go boom. Can you imagine...? The Despair of the Future Foundation, the world, the family...! It's absolutely assured!"

With one final jerk of his head, Makoto finally managed to free himself from the gag and gasp, "Wait! Wait, wait, wait, Mr. Shimura–!"

"Shut up!" Shimura screamed, tightening his arm around Makoto's throat. "You fucking brat, this is all your fault, do you realise?!"

"Listen," Makoto said tightly, "you don't have to do this. I know everything seems hopeless, but that doesn't mean you have to–"

"Yes I do! Goddammit, don't you understand what you've done?!"

"What've I done?!"

"You made us Hope." Shimura snarled into Makoto's ear, the final word carrying with it a mixture of terror and loathing. "I could see it in everyone's eyes. Everyone who talked to you, everyone who even watched you, they all came away with a little less despair. We only had you for two days, and your very presence brought Hope into the family."

"I don't understand...!" Makoto cried out. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"No! You've set us up! Painted targets on all our backs!"

Shimura let out a choked sound that Makoto couldn't identify. It could have been another laugh just as easily as it could have been a sob. "The Ultimate Despairs! All their fanatics! They're all out to obliterate Hope from this world, and once it gets out what you've done to us, they'll obliterate the family!"

Makoto's eyes widened. "When you said you're doing this for the clan..."

"If I spread Despair by killing the Ultimate Hope," Shimura rasped, his hand tightening around the bomb trigger, "and plunge the family into Despair by destroying these damned supplies, maybe the Ultimate Despairs will overlook us."

"Mr. Shimura..." Makoto took a deep breath. "Listen, you don't have to do this."

"Weren't you listening?!" Shimura snapped. "I just told you why I have to!"

"I know, and I understand! You just want to protect your friends! But listen," Makoto said desperately, "you've all survived this long, haven't you? None of you have fallen into despair yet, otherwise you would've all given up on each other forever ago...!"

"Shut up you damned brat!"

Makoto grimaced as the arm around his throat tightened, but he kept talking. "It's already a pretty scary thing to hope, I think, 'cause there's always the chance that everything could go wrong. And nowadays, it's even scarier."

"Exactly," Shimura hissed. "That's why I need to end your infection, right here, right now."

"I'm just trying to tell you I understand," Makoto retorted with as much gentleness as was allowed considering his current position. "You're scared, I get it, but there's no reason you can't take a chance. You and your clan, your family, you've already been pushing forward as it is! That's why you're all still here, why you're all sticking together, why you guys captured me in the first place...! And... ironically, that's kinda why you're doing what you're doing..."

Shimura stiffened.

"I mean, it's convoluted, but in the end, you're just hoping to ensure your friends' survival," Makoto said quietly. "Right?"

"...Tch." Shimura scoffed and lifted the trigger. "All the more reason to end this."

"No, don't–!"

BANG.

Oh, god...

The arm around Makoto's throat loosened, and Makoto could hear Shimura collapse behind him. With nothing to support his weak legs, Makoto quickly followed.

'No...'

Makoto turned on his side, towards where Shimura lay. His senses were warping again, but Makoto could make out a few things with sharp, almost painful clarity. The clan leader stood in the distance with the rest of Shimura's friends, tossing aside a gun. Shimura lay sprawled out on the ground with his eyes wide and unseeing, a pool of blood seeping out from the back of his head.

"No, no, no, no," Makoto whispered, dazedly and unsteadily attempting to maneuver himself closer to Shimura.

There was a lot of shouting going on around him, but it all might as well have been underwater for how much it registered in Makoto's ears. He did think he could hear someone calling his name, though he was, admittedly, not even trying to pay attention.

"Help," Makoto called hoarsely. "Someone, he needs help!"

The ever growing pool of blood painted an ugly but realistic picture, one that spoke of Shimura being beyond help. Yet Makoto still cried out frantically, until a hand, firm but surprisingly gentle, grabbed Makoto by the arm and pulled him away from Shimura.

Makoto looked up at the clan leader crouched solemnly in front of him, desperation in every word as he said, "He's your friend, right? Please, you have to help him...!"

The clan leader simply shook his head. "He's long gone, boy. Was in more ways than one."

Makoto knew that, of course. That didn't mean he could fully comprehend it. At a later time, Makoto would at least find it in himself to be grateful that he had not yet become desensitised to death, even after all that he had seen and been through. Right now, though, Makoto could only turn his paralyzed gaze from the clan leader to the body beside him.

"Why...?" Makoto rasped, the word coming out high pitched and shaky. "Why did you do that? He..."

"Like I said, he was already long gone," the clan leader intoned. "Someone had to do something."

"No, no, he... I could've... You didn't... If I'd just had more time, I..."

Makoto barely noticed when the clan leader's hand left his arm. He barely noticed as he was pulled to his feet and guided gently the rest of the way across the city square. He barely noticed as his hands were cut free and he was made to sit down on some kind of stretcher.

"Mr. Naegi, I asked how you're feeling."

"I'm fine," Makoto murmured, staring blankly down at his hands. "I mean, 'm a little banged up, and I think my nose is broken, but besides that..."

Makoto didn't know how long he just sat there, staring at his hands while the world continued to move around him. It probably wasn't very long, maybe a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Then, a gloved hand on his shoulder brought his gaze up.

"Kirigiri." Makoto smiled, or at least he sure hoped he did. "It's great to see you again."

The girl sitting beside him nodded. "The feeling's mutual."

"I guess I should thank you for coming to get me," Makoto said with a small laugh. "Not like I ever doubted you would."

Kirigiri simply stared at him. There was a crease in her otherwise ever stoic expression, one he recognised as her searching hard for something.

"Um, is something wrong?" he asked.

Kirigiri blinked and withdrew her hand from his shoulder. "Your nose doesn't look too good."

Makoto instinctively felt around his nose, only to wince as soon as his fingers made contact. "Yeah, it's kinda broken," he confessed tightly.

"I imagine it must be rather painful," Kirigiri said with a small frown.

"It's not as bad as it was. It just stings a bit."

"And what about your wrists?"

"My wrists...?" Makoto looked back down at his hands, pulling the sleeves of his dress shirt back slightly. Dark, ugly bruises stood out sharply against his pale skin, forming bracelets around each of his wrists. "Oh... I honestly hadn't noticed them..."

"Do you have any other injuries?" Kirigiri asked, bringing Makoto's attention back to her.

"Probably just a few more bruises. I'm mostly just tired." Makoto smiled again, and this time he was pretty sure he managed it. "Guess my luck is good for something...! Even though it is kinda the reason I ended up in that position."

Kirigiri closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before looking Makoto in the eyes again. "Naegi… How are you feeling?"

"Like I said, I'm tired and a bit banged up, but it's nothing I can't get through."

"No, that's..." Kirigiri shook her head, taking another deep breath. "I've asked after your physical wellbeing. But... if I'm going to be honest, I'm mostly worried about your emotional wellbeing."

A strange combination of deep appreciation and bruising sorrow make Makoto's heart feel simultaneously light and heavy. He broke Kirgiri's gaze, pressing a hand over his chest. The bruises there stung beneath his palm.

"Naegi?" Kirigiri placed a gloved hand back on his shoulder.

"...Do you think," Makoto whispered, not daring to speak any louder lest his voice start shaking and cracking, "if I'd just tried harder, Shimura wouldn't have... I mean, do you think there's any chance that..."

"...I don't know," Kirigiri finally said as Makoto trailed off. "What I do know, though, is that what happened was not your fault. He made his choice, and so did his leader. There's no use in getting hung up over 'what if's'."

"I know that... But still, I can't help but feel–"

Makoto's breathing hitched, the start of a sob that he just barely managed to bite back. The buttons of his shirt bit into his palm as he tightened his hand over his chest. He took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, before letting it out with a sigh, the grip on his shirt loosening.

"It's stupid. I'm just a normal guy after all. It's not like I have the power to save everyone. But Shimura said it himself, I'm the Ultimate Hope, right? I just feel like everyone is expecting me to save everyone. And I want to save everyone, but I also know I can't, and I just..."

Makoto sniffed, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. Kirigiri's hand tightened ever so slightly around his shoulder. He appreciated that. It helped ground him.

"I'm sorry," Kirigiri murmured.

Makoto looked at her in surprise. "What for?"

"When I referred to you as the Ultimate Hope, back during the final trial in Hope's Peak," Kirigiri said, eyes shadowed by her hair, "I didn't realise just how much that title would actually mean. I'm only realising now just how much pressure I put on you by giving you that title."

"Hey, it's all right...!" Makoto exclaimed, hands hovering hesitantly as he debated whether or not to return her reassuring gesture. "You were just being nice. I'm the one who's getting all caught up in expectations."

"That's just in your nature," Kirigiri retorted gently. "You're optimistic and kind and always seeking to see the best in others. And I inadvertently gave the whole world a way to take advantage of that."

Kirigiri brought her gaze back up. To anyone who didn't know her well, it might have looked like she was simply glaring, but Makoto knew Kirigiri better than most. There was a deep-seated sadness behind the lavender of her eyes, and it nearly made him gasp to see it.

"You shouldn't be feeling the weight of the world's expectations," Kirigiri said. "It's... not fair."

Never had Makoto ever thought he would hear Kirigiri refer to anything as being unfair. It shocked him just as much as it warmed his heart.

"Everything's been unfair," Makoto agreed quietly. "The killing game, the Tragedy, all of it..."

Silence stretched out between the two of them. It wasn't an awkward silence. It was more like a moment of reflection and grief and finding solace in simply sitting there, with only each other for company (despite all the people bustling around them).

"Hey..." Makoto finally spoke. "What happened to the rest of the clan?"

Kirigiri withdrew her hand from his shoulder and straightened up. "They gathered up all the supplies we provided in exchange for you. I believe they're leaving right now."

"That's too bad… I probably should have thanked their leader for saving my life."

Kirigiri raised an eyebrow. "Their leader could have just been looking to save the supplies."

"Well, maybe, but that doesn't mean he didn't still save my life." Makoto looked down at his hands, his eyes caught by the bruises around his wrists. "They aren't bad people... They're just trying to survive, and they at least care for each other, so that's good, I think."

"...I did speak to the leader briefly," Kirigiri said. "He wanted me to tell you that you're stronger than you probably think. At least mentally."

Makoto smiled. It was a small and sad one. "Oh yeah? That's really kind of him. I don't feel all that strong."

Kirigiri sighed. "Naegi... It shouldn't be me needing to tell you this, but it's okay to just be human. If you're upset or hurting, it's not like I'll scold you for it."

"Ma'am." A 14th Division squad member jogged up to the two Hope's Peak Alumni. "We're ready to move out."

"Good," Kirigiri said with a nod, standing up from the stretcher. "I'll be accompanying Makoto Naegi."

"Understood, ma'am."

As they all prepared to return to the Future Foundation headquarters, a few of the more medically inclined squad members insisted that Makoto lie down on the stretcher. Makoto did protest at first - "No, really, it's not that bad..." - but the squad members' persistence, Kirigiri's stern gaze, and Makoto's own exhaustion ultimately won out. In less than five minutes, Makoto was loaded into a helicopter on the stretcher. Kirigiri sat beside him, and after another few minutes, they were taking off.

Makoto stared at the metal ceiling of the helicopter. The raucous chopping of the helicopter blades quickly became white noise as he waded through all the conflicting thoughts and feelings banging against the inside of his mind. Makoto bit down on the inside of his lip in an effort to keep it from trembling.

A gloved hand slid into his own, curling gently around his fingers. Makoto gripped the hand, took a shuddering breath, and, as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, let the tears flow.

If any of the other 14th Division members present in that helicopter noticed their Division leader holding hands with the Ultimate Hope as he cried softly, it became a silent pact amongst them to never once speak of it, to hell with expectations and professionalism. Just for a bit, they were both allowed to be free from it.