A/N: Bad news is, I'm entering finals week, so my stress is off the charts and I probably won't even be touching my fics until it ends. Good news is, the pain ends next Wednesday. So until then, thank you to everyone showing support for this fic, it's like coffee to me, if I drank coffee.

The aftermath of the Second Mutual Killing Game of Hope's Peak Academy was a storm of activity and chaos. As soon as the students stepped outside, they were whisked away by the Future Foundation. Over the next few days the television blared with reports from vice-chairman Munakata Kyosuke, promising Class 78 was safe. Their memories had been restored to them, and they were currently undergoing therapy; they would be available for the cameras once they were ready. Shortly after, the corpses of the other victims of the killing game were extracted from the school, and there was a public memorial held for them a week after the game ended. It was broadcast live, and it was the first time the world had seen the six survivors since. They were all hovering close together, jumpy and tense, with every sudden noise making Naegi in particular flinch. But he was still able to go up and give a little speech about how much all his classmates had meant to him, and he only broke down crying after he'd left the podium.

A few days after that, Enoshima Junko's death was publicly confirmed. It had taken the Future Foundation some extra time to uncover her corpse, hence the delay, and even longer to identify it—there simply wasn't much left. Her remains had been missing pieces, such as an eye, an arm, and several organs, and her face had been so damaged as to be unidentifiable. But, Munakata said, the DNA tests had come back positive. It really was her, and she really was dead. Celebrations swept the globe when this was announced.

Soon, the survivors of Class 78 were constantly on television, being interviewed about their experience, their restored memories, their lost loved ones, their plans for the future. Naegi especially couldn't get a day's rest; Kirigiri's proclamation of him as Ultimate Hope had quickly caught on, inspiring the public, and the Future Foundation milked it for all it was worth. He became a figurehead, an icon, perhaps frazzled and unprepared, but doing his best. The culmination of all these small victories meant there was finally hope for the world being restored, and it showed in the faces on the screen.

None of this mattered to Izuru. It was a predictable outcome to a disappointingly predictable ending.

The game had been mostly predictable too, nearly all the behaviors and actions falling within expected parameters, but there had been outliers here and there—Fujisaki using the second motive to grasp hope instead of crumpling into despair, or Asahina's poor attempt at homicide, for example. Those rare occurrences had been enough to hold his attention, and he'd wondered if perhaps this would show him which of hope and despair was more unpredictable. Perhaps he would not need his plan after all.

And then Enoshima had to ruin it. Interfering, breaking her own rules, framing an innocent—rather than letting hope triumph naturally over despair or vice versa, she'd attempted to force an outcome. And by doing so, she'd invalidated all potential data; an experiment's results couldn't be kept if there was outside tampering. Worse, he could perfectly predict the only possible result: the students would defeat her. Hope was going to triumph over despair not because of its merits, but because of despair's own meddling.

He stopped paying attention after that. It had been slightly interesting when Naegi's luck saved him, but that had only lent credence to his conclusion. Naegi was to his class what Nanami had been to hers: hope. As long as he lived, he would prevent them from falling into despair. They had the means to challenge Enoshima directly now, and when they did they would win. And indeed, everything unfolded exactly as he foresaw. It was so boring it actually made him angry.

He couldn't even claim to be satisfied at watching that bitch die, because she'd enjoyed it. Leave it to Enoshima to find a way to spite him, even unintentionally. He was sure she would be laughing if she were still alive.

Involuntarily, he glanced down at his phone. He couldn't say why he did such a pointless thing; there was no need to check for messages. He only had one, a time-delay text received the day after Enoshima's death. It was short, simple, and he'd already memorized it: Don't forget your promise, senpai!

He hadn't. He definitely hadn't. Now more than ever, now that she'd robbed him of his answer. The Neo World Program truly was the only way he'd find it. And besides…he couldn't just let her get away with using him without repaying the favor.

There was just one caveat.

"Kamukura-kun!"

He slipped his phone into his pocket as Nanami rushed into his room. She was almost in tears as she blubbered, "I was watching the evening news, and they said—that Ultimate Despairs had been—my friends—"

Ah, so she'd seen the recent report on the strange new phenomena sweeping the globe: the mass suicides of the Ultimate Despairs.

It had now been a little under a month since the game's end, and the proof of Enoshima's demise had been the breaking point for her Ultimate Despairs. They had clung to the hope their leader had only faked her death, and once that was crushed, they became volatile and furious. She was a martyr for them, and for the past few weeks the world had suffered even stronger attacks in retaliation. Now that the surge of hate and the desire for vengeance had died down, many of them had decided to join their idol in death. Some had chosen otherwise, deciding that living with the despair of her passing and continuing to spread her legacy was the best way to honor Enoshima, but Nanami had no way of knowing who had.

Fortunately, he did.

"They yet live," he said. "The Future Foundation keeps records of all they know or suspect of being Ultimate Despairs…or Remnants of Despair, as they are now being called. Your friends are still listed as 'alive.'" He'd monitored the Despairs consistently, in case any approached this area, and Nanami's classmates in particular; while he could have used any of Enoshima's pawns for his plans, he would have preferred it to be Class 77-B. It was only fair he allow her friends the chance of salvation, given it was her hope he would be testing.

She exhaled in relief, placing a hand over her heart. "Thank goodness… Would you mind showing me? It's not that I don't believe you, I just…"

"Desire visual confirmation," he surmised, and got off his bed, striding to where his laptop was situated on his desk.

He took a seat, and Nanami leaned over his shoulder to watch him hack. It was evening, and though he hadn't started getting ready for sleep, she was already in her pajamas. A small part of his mind peeled off to take note of the way they slipped off one shoulder, exposing a long strip of pale flesh. Although he had seen her naked skin a multitude of times before, those had been strictly for her good health. Without that layer of professional purpose, there was something far more intimate about it. And that was...distracting.

Izuru mentally chided himself for letting his attention wander. Even if the task was easy, it was still pointless to fixate on minor details, however alluring. He firmly chased such thoughts away and returned his attention to the computer before him, scrolling through the databanks for the profiles on Class 77-B. Nanami visibly relaxed as he pulled each of the relevant ones up to confirm their status. They were alphabetized, surname first; as he scrolled down to Koizumi, Mahiru, she perked up in surprise and tapped his shoulder, indicating he should go back. Her finger pointed to the katakana characters forming his name. "You're in here."

"As expected." Although all the Future Foundation had was his name and a short summary of his history; the rest of his profile was filled with blanks and question marks. "To the best of their knowledge, I was responsible for the first killing game. Given how vital it was to the beginning of the Tragedy, it is only logical to hypothesize my association with Enoshima's Ultimate Despairs."

Though he couldn't see it, he could perfectly envision her frown. "That's not fair. I know trust isn't exactly a luxury the world has anymore, but declaring you a terrorist just because of a suspicion…"

"It is not entirely incorrect," he pointed out. "I was associated with her for a time, and they have no reason to believe I left."

She still seemed bothered, but let it rest. Wordlessly, he resumed confirming her classmates' statuses.

Nanami had handled the game as he'd expected her to—with difficulty, but persevering nonetheless. Anyone watching should have had the common sense not to get attached to any of the students, knowing what lay in store for them, but she had. She'd cried when they'd cried and laughed when they'd laughed. She was far too empathetic for her own good.

But then, that was a trait he would not have her lose. On Naegi, it had been boring, but on her it was…attractive.

Romantic attachments were still things he had trouble comprehending, the whys behind them inconsistent. Physical attraction made sense, it led to procreation and the continuation of the human race. But affection? Why did he feel that? At first he'd assumed it had been born of Hinata Hajime, and that was true, it had. But now it had grown and mutated into something of its own. The spike of anger and envy when she'd started praising Naegi, for example, had taken him off-guard. Hinata had never felt that, he'd never been in this situation. It was a feeling entirely Kamukura Izuru's, not Hinata Hajime's.

An unexpected occurrence. Something he couldn't foresee. It was almost enough to change his mind. Almost.

But the truth was, love wouldn't save him. Even Enoshima had loved someone, and it hadn't saved her either. Nanami was interesting, but the rest of the world still was not. And now that he'd had a taste of not-boredom, he wanted it all the time. Not just when he was with her. And for that, he needed to find which of hope or despair was less predictable. Meeting Nanami had only solidified that belief, as well as his interest in her hope.

The last profile—Tsumiki, Mikan—was closed, the nurse confirmed as alive. Nanami wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly. Her head was pressed against his cheek, allowing him to smell the floral fragrance of her shampoo. He breathed it in slowly."Thank you, Kamukura-kun. It takes a load off my mind to know they're okay."

"Even though they continue to terrorize the world?" he asked, briefly curious.

Her lips turned down into a sad moue. "Even despite that, yes," she said softly.

After Nanami left, Izuru leaned back and pondered her condition. Her depression had been treated and the medication he produced for her was unnecessary. Though the symptoms of her post-traumatic stress disorder were unlikely to ever leave, she had learned the sufficient skills to live with it. She had also reached a point where she no longer needed the cane to walk, except for aid on the stairs. Soon, that would not be a requirement either. Her reliance on him was coming to an end, and then he would have no reason to stay. It made his chest feel odd, like part of it had been scooped out with a spoon.

The text Enoshima had sent reared its head, her gleeful giggle and sickeningly honeyed voice rising from the ghosts of memory to recite the words. Don't forget your promise, senpai!

I have not, he thought, with a malice that briefly surprised him, but you are not my first priority, Enoshima.

Her artificial intelligence could wait until he'd laid out contingencies for Nanami's safety. He didn't care if the rest of the world suffered from his plan, but she would be safe first and foremost.

Putting down the now-empty watering can, Chiaki smiled at the pansies in satisfaction. The flowers she and Kamukura-kun had planted together had bloomed the very day Enoshima was defeated, as if they knew it was a day worth celebrating. Even the withered sakura trees looked a bit less skeletal, and the regular ones were defiantly, vibrantly green.

Rising from her kneeling position, she cracked out her back. Hard to believe it's been a year…

This time last year she hadn't been able to even lift her arm. And now—now she was able to live again. All the things she'd taken for granted before, things like walking and eating, were back in her power. Even the gap between herself and Kamukura-kun in video games had been growing smaller, slowly but surely.

The sound of a sheet snapping out caught her ear, and she glanced at the other end of the yard, where Kamukura-kun was hanging up laundry. Involuntarily, she smiled again.

She was glad she'd met him. Not just because he'd saved her life, but because she'd become a better person from knowing him. Less naïve. People in power weren't always benevolent or trustworthy, the good guys didn't always win, and the bad guys' legacies continued past their defeat. Hoping for the best sometimes wasn't enough, and you had better be prepared to work and work and work when it wasn't.

Idealism wasn't foolish, of course not…just something exercised with caution. Something she'd failed to grasp before, and almost died because of. But she had the chance to do differently now.

Approaching him, she called out, "Hey, Kamukura-kun…"

He turned, eyebrows marginally lifting in silent inquiry. A breeze picked up, lifting his hair and blowing it gently away from his face. And for a moment Chiaki slowed, eyes drifting across his features, admiring the line of his jaw and tallness of his nose. If she looked closely enough, she could make out a thin ring of paler red in his ruby irises, almost like a targeting symbol. It was fitting, considering that recently she felt caught in crosshairs whenever she met his gaze.

He really was handsome. She'd always known so, in a distant way, but hadn't really acknowledged it. It didn't feel fair, when she knew part of the reason she thought so was because of her feelings for Hinata-kun. But more and more often, she found the thought invading her mind, and not because of Hinata-kun.

And—and lately there'd been a feeling, fluttering delicately in her chest. A hesitant, not-so-little feeling that she'd been slowly growing aware of. When it had come into existence, she didn't know, but it had been born sometime in-between the therapies and the gaming and the countless other things they did together. It was new and a bit frightening, complicated but still easily condensed into a single thought:

I think I like him.

Like wasn't the right word, she knew; like was too weak and immature. Like made her think of schoolyard crushes and ten-year-old children and notes from secret admirers. But like was the word she was most comfortable using right now, so like it was.

Because—if she was falling for Kamukura-kun, it was nothing like falling for Hinata-kun. With Hinata-kun it had been fast and easy, as natural as breathing, a flurry of soaring feelings tempered by nervous excitement. With Kamukura-kun, it was more like…more like floating on the ocean. Deceptively comforting and slow, letting the waves gently bob you away until you looked around and realized you'd lost sight of the shore. Just so different it left her out of her depth, and like helped it seem less dizzying.

And then there were other questions, beyond the question of whether he returned her feelings or not. Questions like, could she expect him to be ready for that kind of relationship when even basic intimacy was strange to him? More importantly, could she expect herself to be ready?

She didn't think she was, not right now. She didn't know how to be a girlfriend, she'd have no idea what she was doing, and Kamukura-kun's route was probably hard mode. She just wasn't emotionally prepared for it; right now both a rejection and an acceptance scared her. So until she was at a point where neither did, she wouldn't confess.

And until then, there were other things Chiaki wanted—needed—to do.

"I want to go to the Future Foundation," she told him. "I have to do something to help the world rebuild, and help my friends. I think…I think I'm well enough for that, now."

He didn't look as if her declaration surprised him. He only gave her a considering look and finally said, "I also believe you have reached a suitable condition for your physical and mental health; however, a test would still be wise. If you show exemplary signs of recovery, I will consider you fit to leave my care."

"Thanks." Chiaki hesitated. The question she dreaded the most hung like a huge black shadow over her mind, weighing down the air between them. I need to ask it. "What…will you do after?"

"I will stay nearby for a time to ensure your integration into the foundation is a smooth one. After…I suppose I will wander."

"You, um…" She licked her lips. "You don't have to go. You could stay."

He did not answer for a long moment. "That is not possible. I will eventually need to concentrate my efforts on bringing your friends to the Neo World Program." Kamukura-kun fixed her with a hard stare. "Understand, Nanami, that I am not being altruistic. I am not saving your friends. I am only giving them the chance to be saved, and I am doing it because I get something out of it."

"What's that?"

"An answer," he said cryptically, and she knew he would say no more.

Chiaki nodded, quiet and solemn. She knew this was in his character. He was a neutral force, not a good one. But not an evil one either. Even still…I think I like him. "Okay…I understand. Will you stay in touch?"

Some of the hardness in his face smoothed out. "For as long as I am able."

She passed the test, but they did not leave immediately. They needed several days to get everything sorted out. Future Foundation policy was that all potential employees go to the third division for human resourcing. That meant moving to a new city, finding a new place to live. And, for Chiaki, finding a new identity.

She hadn't needed to ask why when Kamukura-kun told her. She'd understood.

Because the world thought Nanami Chiaki had died during the Parade, and that Kamukura Izuru was a Remnant of Despair. If it was known that a supposed Remnant had saved her life, and she'd then lived with him for a year, suspicion would fall on her. The Future Foundation's vice-chairman was aggressively anti-despair, and just because they were doing good didn't mean she could expect to be treated kindly if any of the people in charge found out about her relationship with Kamukura-kun. At best, she'd be imprisoned and interrogated about him, at worst outright executed.

So Kamukura-kun fabricated documents, birth certificates and school records and citizenships. Invented an entire history out of thin air. Made her memorize it until she could recite it as well as her real history.

It was…odd. Dissociative, in a way. It felt like she was existing separate from her real identity. But she told herself to think of it like an RPG. She was just slipping into the shoes of another character for now, and once it was safe—whenever that may come—she'd take them off.

Chiaki zipped up her last bag and looked around her now-empty bedroom. It was strange, to be leaving. This place had been her sanctuary, her home, for a year. She wondered what would happen to it. She didn't know whether Kamukura-kun had sold it, or even if he'd properly bought it in the first place. Maybe someone else would come along and make it their home. Maybe it'd just sit here and collect dust and eventually be overgrown with weeds. The thought made her sad, and she patted the wall as if in apology.

"Nanami."

Kamukura-kun was in the doorway, watching her. He must have just finished the last of the packing; there was still a bit of soil on his sleeves from transplanting the pansies into pots. Ignoring how her heart skipped at the way he said her name, Chiaki turned and smiled at him, hefting the bags. "…I'm ready."

The first time Nanami Chiaki crossed the threshold of this sanctuary, she'd been vegetative and had to be carried through the front door. The last time Nanami Chiaki crossed the threshold of this sanctuary, it was on her own two feet.

A/N: No, Chiaki will not be the 13th division leader, I'm just going to say that right now. It would just be too difficult to justify, with Chisa also a division leader. Toss in the whole point of faking an identity being staying unnoticed, and it just becomes impossible.

But hey, at least she's finally recognizing her feelings!

So, just for fun, I decided to look up the meaning of the flowers I had Chiaki and Izuru plant. And it turns out pansies mean remembrance. I wish I could say that symbolism was intentional on my part, but it wasn't. I picked out significant flowers completely by accident. It was such an awesome coincidence I just had to share.