A/N:

Flightfootkeyseeker: Remember that scene in Future 3 where Makoto finds him staring at a vase of flowers? That's what he was off doing. Not really trying to hide from the other Despairs.

It's canon Makoto and co. don't know Izuru is Hajime (they're just as surprised as him to learn the truth in SDR2), so him introducing himself as Hajime seems extremely likely, especially since he'd be going by that name in the simulation. My guess is he wasn't trying to hide his personality (of course he knows everyone will be acting different in the simulation), but his identity as Ultimate Hope.

Guest: I was actually going to address that this chapter!

There were footsteps coming down the hall. He listened to the striding, the brief pause between one foot coming down and the other lifting, and by that alone he could deduce the person's height. Running through a list of everyone on the island narrowed down the suspects; then there were time and potential motives to evaluate; and in a matter of seconds he had pinned the most likely owner: Naegi Makoto. He lifted his gaze from Nanami's hairpin, curling his fingers around it protectively, just as the door opened and Naegi walked in, exactly as he'd predicted.

Izuru was not fazed by this. Hajime was freaked out.

…No, it was more accurate to say the Izuru part of him wasn't fazed, and the Hajime part was. He wasn't two people, he hadn't had any periods of blacking out and waking up elsewhere with no memory of how. He was one person, but with two sets of memories, and those memories have their own distinct personalities attached, and those personalities have bled into each other, mixing so he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Ergo, creating moments where he sometimes experienced two different reactions to the same situation. He was one person, just confused.

Waking up from the Neo World Program was…disorienting. He blinked gummy eyes open to the pod's lid, scattered memories spinning around in his head before falling into place. In the seconds between waking up and the pod opening, his brain examined and deconstructed all available information, reporting that not only did he have Hinata Hajime's and Kamukura Izuru's memories, but memories of his time in the Neo World Program. That had not been something he'd predicted, and for a moment he was pleased.

And then the scope of everything he'd done hit him like a truck.

His chest seized. His breaths stopped. Bile briefly filled his mouth. Hajime's lost morals had returned, and they gaped at everything Izuru had allowed—you could have saved Nanami, you could have saved the world, you could have saved everyone—while Izuru's intelligence started mapping out all the ways he could have stopped Enoshima. Instead he'd stood by for—what? Some test? And worse, he realized—

He'd been missing the point all along. Hajime's obsession with talent, Izuru's obsession with watching hope fight despair, those had been so wrong. Hope, despair, talent, those weren't the end goals. They alone wouldn't make life interesting or enjoyable. It was the memories and bonds you made with people along the way.

How had he not thought of such an obvious answer, as Izuru? How had he missed what was staring him in the face, as Hajime? If he'd stopped being so full of himself, stopped thinking he was absolutely right, for one iota of a second—

He lay there, frozen and overwhelmed, as silent tears spilled over his cheeks and around him the survivors of Class 77-B began to wail.

It took the Class 78 trio an entire day to calm them—primarily through sedatives. But even in that state, none of them had wanted to be away from their comatose classmates; as the Neo World Program's main building lacked dorms, several closets had hastily been converted into sleeping spaces. Hajime had immediately locked himself in his room, his head too tumultuous and his heart too knotted for him to interact with others, and tried very hard not to have a panic attack.

A week had passed since then. He'd spent a long time trying to decide what to call himself. He thought he might like "Hinata Hajime" more than "Kamukura Izuru"—the only memories attached to that name were bad ones. Still, discarding it completely felt wrong. As if he were trying to discard responsibility. By the time he'd scrutinized himself a hundred times over, he'd concluded he could never go back to who he once was. He was too emotional and empathetic to be just Izuru, but he was also too talented and analytical to be just Hajime.

So, a compromise was in order. He wouldn't forget either of his selves. He wouldn't object to Kamukura, but he'd prefer Hinata. That consensus had been pleasing to him, and just yesterday he'd informed the others of his decision. It was also the first time he'd spoken to them since they'd all woken up—his shame and overall emotional turmoil had kept him away. But they didn't seem to hate him for his actions, and the gratitude and relief their acceptance brought was overwhelming. There were still hurts to deal with. His emotional state still hadn't approached anything resembling 'alright'. But there was an unspoken agreement amongst them, that they would deal with the scars they'd left on each other in time. And until then, they would support each other.

Naegi smiled at him, as he always did, and placed a tray of breakfast on his bed—there wasn't room for a table in the tiny room. "Good morning, Hinata-kun. How are you feeling today?"

He answered as he always did. "As well as can be expected."

Every morning, one of the three Future Foundation members would come by to deliver breakfast and check how they were doing. But today something was different. The nails on Naegi's hands were freshly chewed to the quick. His face was lined with concern. He was fidgeting, tapping one foot erratically. Hajime read all this and concluded, "You didn't come here just for pleasantries."

"Aha, no, not this morning." He paused, rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly searching for words. "You see, I've been receiving a lot of messages from Future Foundation recently…"

"You're in trouble."

Naegi winced. "…Yeah. One of the higher-ups, Munakata-san, has been giving me orders to return to the mainland and explain myself. He's made it pretty clear he wants me to bring you all back with me, as…I guess as one last chance."

"But you aren't going to?"

"No. He'll just execute you." He paused, looking a little sad. "I'm sure this'll be the nail in the coffin that gets me officially put on trial, but I truly feel you guys deserve a second chance. And you've all made a lot of mistakes, but I trust that you guys really want to turn yourselves around."

A lump bobbed in Hajime's throat, and his chest fluttered with warm gratitude. He had to consciously remind himself to smile and convey that. It was—so strange. Showing emotion was so strange. His face had been a porcelain mask for so long that expressions seemed no longer natural, and his neglected facial muscles throbbed painfully when he did remember to use them. But he was trying. "Thank you."

A thought occurred to him. Future Foundation. Yukizome-sensei. He should say something about Yukizome-sensei, shouldn't he? Naegi, Kirigiri, and Togami had risked so much to help them. Perhaps that could be the first step in paying them back, in making things right.

"You should know, Future Foundation has a mole—"

"Please don't." He blinked. Naegi-kun was holding a hand up, his face pale and strained.

He took a moment to collect himself. "I know…I know there probably is one. We've had too many bad streaks for there not to be. But…I don't want to worry about that right now. I don't want to have that knowledge weighing me down while I prepare a defense." He chuckled. "A repeat of Ogami-san's incident is probably best avoided."

He wasn't quite sure what 'Ogami-san's incident' referred to. Ogami Sakura had been from Class 78. The Second Killing Game, perhaps? Oddly, his memories of watching the Second Killing Game weren't very clear; he just had a vague sense of being furious with Enoshima.

In fact, much of his memory between the Parade and a little after his trip to Towa City was spotty. He'd analyzed these remaining gaps and concluded he'd removed the memories himself. For what purpose, Hajime was not sure. He wanted to investigate them, but there was too much going on. He had to fix his mistakes and help the rest of Class 77-B, first. Then maybe he could do something about his strangely missing memories.

"…Naegi, this information is important."

"I know," Naegi repeated. "But what could I do with it now? I'm heavily suspected of treason. If I accuse someone else of being a traitor, things'll either devolve into wild accusations, or the higher-ups will take that as more proof that I'm a double agent. …No, it's best to focus on one thing at a time. I'll go, clear my name, clear you all, and then you can come forth and tell the rest of the Future Foundation about the mole."

"…You believe things will work out that way?"

"Of course."

He said it so simply, as if it were as fact as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. There was no ounce of deceit or guile in his tone. Just pure conviction. Hajime wasn't quite sure whether Naegi's decision was foolish, naïve, or a testament to his optimism, but found the other man respectable nonetheless.

"…You're a lot like Nanami." His heart twisted every time he thought of her, and there was a bittersweet taste on his tongue. This was the first time he'd spoken her name out loud since...before he went through with the Kamukura Project, if you didn't count the Neo World Program. He'd grieved her, as best he could with no memories and stunted emotions, during the Tragedy, but he didn't think he'd ever really come to terms with her death. Even now, it still didn't seem real.

Naegi reddened, but his smile was small and grateful. "That's high praise. She…must have meant a lot to you all, for the AI to take her form."

He didn't answer. He didn't think he had the words to describe what Nanami had been to him. She was more than just the woman he loved. She was what inspired him to start his plan for the Neo World Program, the one who showed him an alternate possibility to despair. In a way, I suppose you could call her my hope.

The shorter man coughed, aware of the awkward silence stretching. "Anyway, that's what I came here to tell you. Kirigiri-san, Togami-kun and I are leaving tomorrow. You and the other four just need to sit tight for a while. The island has plenty of supplies, so you should be fine until I can get this sorted out. Is there anything else you need, before we go?"

Inspiration suddenly struck. Almost without thinking, he tugged at his long strands of hair. "…Do you have scissors? I'd…like to start over."

Naegi gave him an understanding look, and said of course, and hurried off to get a pair. Hajime looked back at Nanami's hairpin. For a brief moment, he could envision it back in her hair, her uplifted face as she smiled at him. Then the same pin, lying in a pool of blood. His fingers tightened around it until the edges bit into his skin.

I'm so sorry, Nanami…to both of you. But I'll fix my mistakes. I promise.

In the two years since Enoshima Junko's death, things had improved in most of the world. Industries were up and running again, urban areas were being repaired, resources were being restocked, and violence was declining. Not so for one unfortunate city. All its civilians had been killed in the constant fighting; the only inhabitants left were combatants. Smoke, yells, and the sounds of battle rang across the city at all times of day and night. The wind carried it all up and into a tall tower on the outskirts, the flickering green lights on the front proclaiming Monaca.

Inside her base, Towa Monaca popped another chip into her mouth, wrinkling her nose as the stenches of Towa City wafted through a window. Life had never been kind to her, but it had taken an especially poor turn lately. First her game was ruined by Komaru-oneechan and her smelly friend, then her half-brother's resistance had gained momentum, and finally she'd had to live with Komaeda-oniichan for over a year. Over a year!

It had been fun for a little while, as he taught her new methods to bring despair and fulfill Junko-oneechan's wishes. But then. But then, the talking. The speeches. The blathering about hope and despair. It went on and on and on and before long she wanted to claw her eardrums out rather than listen to one more word. But she was an actress, had acted all her life, even better than Kotoko-chan, and she knew better than to cut ties with her only remaining ally. So she'd smiled and nodded and agreed and tried not to scream as months dragged by.

Then Komaeda-oniichan got sick, and Monaca found herself at a conundrum. Did she help him get better, or did she let him die to save her sanity? Before she could make a decision, some weird long-haired guy came with a bunch of other Demons and took it out of her hands. Her eager wave goodbye as they'd left with Komaeda-oniichan was one of the few genuine shows of emotion she'd ever displayed in her life.

Being Junko-oneechan's successor wasn't as appealing anymore, if it meant ending up as unhinged as Komaeda-oniichan. Now she spent her days watching her city burn to the ground, contemplating the futility of it all. Maybe she should just go somewhere else. Australia, maybe? Antarctica? Space?

As she yanked open another bag of chips, one of the laptops she'd set up for surveillance beeped. Monaca swiveled her chair around, green eyes zeroing in on the screen; incoming video conference request.

The number was from the Future Foundation.

She considered this. Monaca couldn't think of many reasons why Future Foundation would call her; they'd given up on negotiating for Komaru-oneechan and that other chick's safe passage, she didn't have anyone they could hold hostage, and she'd already spurned Komaru-oneechan's surrender terms. So what, then?

In the end, it was boredom and curiosity that had her answering. A call screen opened, showing a woman with copper hair and green eyes and a bright smile. "Hello, Monaca-chan!" she chirped. "I'm Yukizome Chisa, with the fifth branch of Future Foundation. I've been reading reports about you for some time, and they all say such glowing things. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," she responded, saccharine sweetness automatically lacing her words. "How'd you get Monaca's number?"

"I'm in charge of intelligence," Yukizome-san said, waving a dismissive hand. "Finding out this sort of thing is no big deal for me. But I'm more interested in you. Are the rumors that you're trying to become Enoshima-sama's new successor true?"

Monaca thought quickly. She had been making business transactions since she was young; she recognized the patterns at play here. Yukizome-san had made first contact, paid compliments, and was fishing for information about her status; she was interested in an alliance of some kind. Being the one called on put Monaca in a position of power, so she could afford skepticism and haggling. Finally, Yukizome-san had called Junko-oneechan 'Enoshima-sama', so she was obviously affiliated with the Remnants of Despair. She snorted in amusement. Future Foundation put a Remnant in charge of their intelligence? The irony there is so rich it's pathetic.

She wasn't interested in that successor stuff anymore, but it was best to keep her cards close to her chest. "Maybe," she sniffed haughtily, in her best Junko-oneechan impression. "Monaca's time is important, though; she can't just spare it for everyone."

"I'll be brief," Yukizome-san assured. "Recently my students asked for my help in a rather daring plan to revive Enoshima-sama. Nothing big, they just wanted me to make sure the vice-chairman didn't find out Naegi-kun captured them. And at first I went along. The despair Enoshima-sama's return would bring would be unimaginable!

"But eventually I realized something. The Ultimate Hope assisting the Remnants of Despair? Isn't that also despair-inducing? I'd dare say it's even moreso! Once I thought of that, it seemed only natural to quietly feed Kyosuke evidence implicating Naegi-kun's guilt. I was going to just give him a trickle at a time, let my students wrap things up before telling him where Naegi-kun was, but he ran off ahead of me and Gekkogahara-san ended up spilling it instead. I had to do some pretty fast damage control to persuade him to leave my class be and focus on bringing just Naegi-kun in, lemme tell you!"

"This isn't 'brief'." While Monaca was secretly impressed by Yukizome-san's cunning, a huge boulder of disappointment had crushed her chest upon hearing the plan to revive Junko-oneechan had failed—for surely it had failed, otherwise Junko-oneechan would have contacted Monaca by now. It was another constant reminder of life's nihilism, and she was sick of it.

"My point is, I don't know what became of my students' plan; I've lost contact with them. But this has opened even better opportunities. See, Kyosuke's on the warzone; he wants to put Naegi-kun on trial. It'll take him a few weeks to convince the other branch heads and put everything together, but I have no doubt it'll happen. He'll make it quiet but major. Gather everyone in one isolated location." Yukizome-san paused, as if to check if Monaca could see where she was going.

She could. "Making them perfectly poised to be taken out with a single strike. You want me to attack them?"

"Yes and no. I know someone else is planning to set something else up, but I thought you might like to get your kicks in too." Oh—Monaca recognized that look in her eyes. It was the insane one Komaeda-oniichan sometimes got when he was too deep in his philosophy talks. "Imagine—multiple attacks coming from different directions! The branch heads turning on each other, each suspecting the others of betrayal! Everyone wiped out except Kyosuke! It'd leave him in such despair!"

Monaca twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. It sounded very nice and thorough, yes—but not interesting. She didn't care much for spreading despair anymore. But Yukizome-san's plan offered the chance of getting her a glimpse of Naegi Makoto, the only thing she really wanted nowadays. Maybe, if this mysterious other participant removed Yukizome-san, she could get away with just observing, not participating.

"I like it," she decided, tapping one of her chips against her chin. "But I can't afford to leave Towa City now, I'm afraid." She was not stupid enough to walk into the hazard zone the Remnant was setting up.

Yukizome-san frowned for the first time, but the girl continued, robot schematics dancing before her eyes, "But Monaca's a genius, and she's already thought of a way to infiltrate the meeting! She just needs some information about your branch heads…"

The stress of her job and upcoming exam kept Chiaki from worrying too much about the Neo World Program—her friends were there, they'd be fine, she was sure of it. She mentally rehearsed how she would confess everything. Not to the entire Foundation, just Naegi-kun, she'd decided; if he was keeping her friends safe, she was sure he would keep her as well. Probably Gekkogahara-san too, to get permission to help Class 77.

The date for her exam came. It went by oddly mechanically, like test days back in high school. She woke up. She worried. She went in. She took it. She was told she would receive the results in ten days. And she left.

And then she found her unoccupied mind turning back to that singular question—when will they be done? When can I see them again? Impatience to be reunited, to not be alone anymore, wiggled in her chest. And underneath that, fear. Fear that they wouldn't want to see her. That her friends hated her for her role in their brainwashing, that Kamukura-kun had gotten bored of her and moved on.

Still, Chiaki was sure she could have waited days or weeks more for the results from the Neo World Program, if it weren't for two incidents.

The first was three days after her exam. Late evening, sitting on her bed finishing up her no accessories, no Materia Hard Mode challenge run of Crisis Core. Items were allowed, but only because the fights with undodgeable attacks would be impossible to beat without Remedies or Cure materia. A smile pulled at her lips as she lost herself in the enjoyment of gaming, cutting down the literal army of soldiers one after the other. She loved games on any difficulty, whether there were no restrictions or as many restrictions as possible, but she had a special fondness for beating challenges. It gave a heady feeling of triumph, victory, power, and that was something she needed lately.

Playing Crisis Core again brought back memories of one time she'd loaned the game to Sonia-san, who had taken a liking to Final Fantasy 7 and wanted to play the others in its storyline. The Ultimate Princess had stormed into her room when she'd beaten Crisis Core, sniffling and hitting Chiaki's shoulder when she laughed, repeating "you evil, evil woman! You knew! You knew how it would end!"

"So did you," she felt compelled to point out, patting her friend's shoulder to take the sting out of her laughter. You were told Zack died in Final Fantasy 7.

"That is beside the point! You did not warn me I would get so…so…"

"Attached?"

"Yes!" Sonia-san's eyes were bright. "He had kindness, courage, energy, strength…true qualities that would earn him a monument in Novoselic! He deserved better than…than to perish in the rain a traitor! It is most unfair and tragic!"

Chiaki nodded solemnly. "He was a true hero...with the heart of a puppy."

The reminder of Zack's nickname had gotten a giggle out of Sonia-san. But—something was wrong with that memory. Something hollow, something missing. Chiaki frowned, searching.

Sonia-san had giggled, and…and she couldn't remember what it sounded like.

Her breath caught. She paused the game, something she rarely did. Frantic, Chiaki dug through her brain, and—she couldn't find it. It wasn't there anymore.

She shot out of her seat, rushing to the other end of the room where her books were stacked in a small pile. Tossed them aside until she found the red leather cover she was looking for. Chiaki tore it open, shaking as she stared at the pictures within, tracing her eyes over the treasured faces.

It was a fruitless search for a lost puzzle piece. The photo album had preserved things over the months. The shape of Nidai-kun's nose, the exact color of Komaeda-kun's hair, the location of Tsumiki-san's beauty mark. Though she didn't have any photos of Hinata-kun, his resemblance to Kamukura-kun kept his face mostly alive in her mind's eye. Not an exact image, age had changed it somewhat, but enough.

But—there were things the album simply couldn't hold. Nothing big, most would say, just details. The sound of Pekoyama-san's voice. The exact way Hanamura-kun smiled. Mioda-san's singing. Try as she might, she just couldn't recall those things.

She was losing her friends, not to despair or the Future Foundation, but to time, her memories slowly weathered down. The realization made her feel like she'd been punched in the gut.

She put the album down. Tried to resume playing. Put the game back down too and curled up, wrapping her arms around her knees. The cutscene of Zack's quiet demise in the rain was coming up, and it just—she couldn't watch it. Not now. It resonated too deeply with her, a man separated from his loved ones, trying to get back to Aerith only to succumb to his wounds literally outside Midgar. Aerith, left hanging for years, clinging to the past until it started to choke her and she had to draw the line—

Stop! She yelled at herself, still trembling from that awful knowledge. Just stop. That's not going to happen. You're all going to see each other again. You're going to make things right. You have to.

But she was starting to forget—

I can't take this anymore.

It was whispered, quietly, by a small dark voice in the back of her head. It was a horrible, horrible thought, and guilt overcame her the moment it passed through her mind.

But—it was true. Or, well, to an extent. She hadn't given up on Kamukura-kun and her friends. She wouldn't. She just…didn't know if she could endure waiting anymore. It had been different before, when she was waiting for Hinata-kun, because she'd had her friends with her then, their support, and she'd still been—naïve. Innocent. Bad things happened, but to other people. Not the ones you cared about. And if they did, they could be overcome like in a video game.

Now she was alone, and she knew bad things could happen to anyone, taking them away from you so suddenly you were left wondering what happened. It had been a long, hard year and a half of uncertainty and loneliness and fear. Then impatience and anticipation for a reunion, rearing and having to be restrained like wild horses. And now this—losing bits and pieces of her precious memories—

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her forehead into her knees, and tried not to scream.

The second incident, and the day her resolve crumbled, was the day she received an envelope with her exam results. She squealed, clutching it to her chest, when she saw the papers within informing her that she'd passed the exam. The proclamation of her now being a licensed therapist. The key to finally being able to help her friends.

She knew she'd promised Kamukura-kun she'd wait, but after her latest realization, she just couldn't. But she couldn't just rush off recklessly, she reminded herself. She still had scars on her body and heart from the last time she had. Besides, she probably—no, she'd definitely need permission from Gekkogahara-san. Still, Chiaki went to sleep that night with a smile on her lips, and for once her dreams were pleasant, images of happy reunions playing out in her head.

"Congratulations, Watanabe-san!" Usami exclaimed when Chiaki proudly displayed the license to her the next day. Gekkogahara-san always kept her office open for an hour a day, for anyone to come in and talk, if they wanted. Luck was with Chiaki that day—no one else was there to speak with the Ultimate Therapist at the time, and she'd just put down the phone when she entered. "Not many of your fellow interns took the exam this soon, but all those who have, have passed thus far!"

"I'm glad to hear that," she smiled. Even if she barely knew them, being able to achieve a dream you worked hard for was always something to celebrate.

"You look like you have something else you want to say."

She nodded, straightened up, trying to look as formal and polite as possible. "I want to ask permission to collaborate on a project with Naegi Makoto of Branch 14."

Gekkogahara-san's eyebrows rose. "You want to start a project? So soon after getting your license? Why?"

Chiaki opened her mouth. Closed it. For the briefest moment, she thought about confessing everything. Just telling her who she was, how she'd survived, why it was so important she help Class 77. Gekkogahara-san had a more lenient stance on Remnants, she knew. Maybe she'd understand Chiaki's reasons and help her.

But she remembered the snippets she'd heard of Gekkogahara-san's talk with Munakata-san. How she'd seemed willing to help him catch 'traitors'. Chiaki was sure the woman had good reasons—she was too gentle to do something like that out of malice—but if she'd done it once, who was to say she wouldn't do it again?

She just…didn't know for sure. And she was too afraid of acting rashly again. So Chiaki fudged the truth. "Um, I'd rather not say too much about it right now…if he doesn't agree, there's no point. But it's very important to me." Hating that she was about to manipulate the other woman, she added, "It's…a dream of mine."

Gekkogahara-san steepled her fingers, eyes lost in thought. She sighed. For a long time, the only sound was the ticking of the clock and the quiet whirr of Gekkogahara-san's laptop.

"There is an important board meeting being held tomorrow," Usami finally said. "All of us branch heads are attending, as well as Naegi-kun. So you won't be able to speak with him anytime soon, I'm afraid. However, I can give you his contact information so you can try to arrange a meeting with him. If he agrees to work with you, you can come back to meet with me, and we can talk resources."

Equal measures of relief and guilt shot through Chiaki. "Thank you. That's—this means a lot to me. Thank you."

Gekkogahara-san was quiet. "Wait until after you speak with Naegi-kun to thank me. Depending on how that board meeting goes…" She stopped short, shook her head. "Well, he might be…inconvenienced, for a time."

Suddenly, Chiaki realized what Gekkogahara-san had said. That Naegi-kun would also be attending the meeting. Did that mean the Neo World Program's rehabilitation was over? So, maybe…the meeting is to discuss the results? The spark of hope she'd been nourishing caught flame in her chest. If he was able to go to a meeting, then her friends hadn't hurt him, which meant they weren't in despair anymore, right? That had to be it.

Then, memories of Munakata-san's fury towards Naegi-kun reared their head. And Gekkogahara-san's tone had sounded worried. Her mouth briefly dried at those implications, before Chiaki forced them down and focused on her mantra: everything will be alright. Everyone will work their hardest and everything will be alright.

"Before you go, can I ask you a favor?"

Chiaki blinked, a little surprised. What favor could she do? Well, it wasn't like she was going to say no just after being granted her own. "Um, sure. What is it?"

"My mother lives with me," Usami explained. "Recently she was administered to the hospital for a broken ankle. They just called me and said they're releasing her tomorrow, but as I said, there's a board meeting that day, so I can't bring her home. Would you mind doing that for me instead? Normally I'd ask my personal assistant to do this, but she's already got a prior engagement. I'll pay you extra since it's on such short notice and it's not part of your duties…"

"Oh, it's no problem. What's the address and time?"

Smiling gratefully, Gekkogahara-san gave it to her, and she nodded, jotting it down in her phone. As Chiaki left, she was only thinking about getting to speak with Naegi-kun soon, rehearsing what she'd say, and anticipating the reunion with her friends that was sure to happen.

If she'd known that would be the last time she ever spoke to Gekkogahara Miaya, she would have said more. "Thank you for everything", perhaps.

But she didn't know, and she didn't say those words, and her regret for that would stay with her the rest of her life.

A/N: Unanswered questions I had after DR3: why did Class 77 not tell Makoto and co about Chisa? Why did Monaca know about this super-secret Future Foundation meeting? How did she get in position to kill Miaya?

Chisa helping her students by hiding their presence at the NWP is a headcanon I've had for a while, but I'm still not sure how much she knew about Tengan's plan. Like we saw her give him the videos, so she was banking on him using them eventually, but was she actively conspiring with him to arrange the Final Killing Game? Did she get betrayed? Or was she counting on dying all along? It's one of those things I think works better ambiguous, so in the end I had Chisa be vague about the details. How much she and Monaca really knew about Tengan's plan is up to you.

Finally, there's nothing to indicate how long passes between SDR2 and DR3. Probably not too long, Kyosuke would want to jump on that treason problem fast, but probably more than a couple days—organizing a big meeting would have taken time, and I don't like the thought of the SDR2 cast waking up "instantly". A month sounded right to me.