#falsehoped

“...i don’t really care.” you say, but you do care. for someone like him, komaeda is proving to be remarkable hard to get rid of. you’d think that knocking someone out and leaving them in the streets for dead would be enough to deter them, and it certainly was for some of the other members of ultimate despair, yet here komaeda is, standing in a doorway with his arms crossed with a smile on his face.

there’s no point in asking how he found you again when you deliberately tried to cover your tracks, because it’s komaeda. of course he found you. (or enoshima told him and pointed him in the right direction. you wouldn’t put it past her, and you don’t know why you mentioned it to her.) now you’re beginning to doubt you’ll be able to get rid of him again.

at least he’s proven that he’s not the liability that you assumed he was. he reminds you of a cockroach in this moment: difficult to kill, and difficult to flee from. distantly, you wonder if he would hiss for you.

you walk past him out the door, fully expecting to be followed because from the look on his face, this conversation is absolutely not over. that’s fine, he can talk all he wants, but you have places to go and people to see and if he hasn’t gotten to the point before you get there, you’ll just ignore it all like he hadn’t said a word.

komaeda is only slightly hurt at what happened. it’s not like he hasn’t endured worse, and it’s worth it in the end. after all, kamukura still tolerates his presence , and that’s really what it comes down to, right? and besides, he couldn’t exactly let kamukura go. he might be the one person who could withstand the effects of komaeda’s luck cycle if he got close enough. might being the operative word.

komaeda’s smile is genuine, excited to see the other again, and his eyes are wide and wild. what good fortune that he happened to run into some telltale signs of life in this otherwise abandoned building! leave it up to luck that he would find someone else in this wretched place. luck may not be much of a talent, but it’s what he has.

chin resting upon interlaced fingers , nagito observes the others face , framed by cascading locks. waiting for something , some ... expression. enticed out of the man.  anything.  he’d settle for any reaction . the bordering offensive meal laid out on the table was worth that at least. 

     Outspoken optimism had successfully bridled his peers’  abhorrence  for the Remnants of Despair but without a captive audience to sway, intrusive thoughts began to  fester  like a fungus. Although everyone had initially been against the idea, little by little, the Future Foundation’s members finally came around to the idea that Izuru Kamukura was  worth  talking to. Naegi had run his throat raw with  rebuttals  and arguments in the Remenants’ favour, challenged the overarching opinion that the group were  lost causes. Obdurately did he stick to his belief that they still had an opportunity to return to the side of hope, that they still had a chance to  renounce  despair’s dogma. They could change for the  better.

     In the case of Kamukura, some colleagues were persuaded for the  wrong  reasons and believed that the  Ultimate  Hope  was worth pursuing in an attempt to  salvage  the underlying investment. Others believed that his approach was worthwhile on the sheer basis that they wouldn’t be thrust into the proverbial line-of-fire. Regardless of the exact reasons, Makoto Naegi had gotten what he  wanted  in the end and the  privilege  of speaking with Kamukura was his alone.

     Although he tried to remain  resolute  and banish doubt from his mind, admittedly, any  overdue  stroke of good luck would have been more than welcome.    

    Nerves were set  alight  with anticipation, heartbeat rhythmically  thrumming  as the secured door to the holding cell was  unlocked  and he was permitted inside. Had his hands not been occupied with hauling his chair inside the room, they might’ve betrayed the  assured  air that he feebly tried to uphold upon entry; shaky hands would have sent the  wrong  message. and every moment  mattered. Stark silence was  shattered  with the meticulous placement of his chair, abiding by the recommended distance that had been  thoroughly  communicated to him beforehand. A sheepish look nearly directed towards his newfound company before he caught himself, using the moment to  ceremoniously  clear his throat instead before taking a seat.

              HE COULD DO THIS ——- FOR THE SAKE OF HOPE,                            FOR THE SAKE OF THE REMENANTS OF DESPAIR,                                                      FOR THE SAKE OF IZURU KAMUKURA.

     ❝ Hello, my name is Makoto Naegi. ❞  The  formal  introduction weighed heavy and tasted foreign on his tongue but for the sake of first impressions, it could be  endured. Geniality exuded naturally, soon to be furthered with a  supportive  smile as he continued, ❝ It’s nice to  finally  meet you. I’ve wanted to speak with you for a little while now but it hasn’t been the easiest to coordinate. Here’s hoping we can make up for lost time. ❞

beep.     click.     click click click.     beep click.     the noises coming from her gameboy plays as nothing more then white noise,    sounds she’s heard countless times before,    day and night,    and had become a regular routine in her daily life.    it blocks out the other sounds around her too,    buffering anything that might break the concentration lurking behind her hooded gaze.    so,    it’s not rare for her to barge into someone.    chiaki knows what’s happened of course,    but if she broke her focus now,    she’d have to start again,    which meant she wouldn’t be able to obtain the rare item from completing this section without a death.   ❛ hmmmm. ❜    locks of long hair can be seen through her outer view,   crimson eyes blurring her concentration as fingers desperately tap against each specific button for the ultimate combo attack.   

❛ if you were part of this game right now,   you’d probably be the mysterious merchant who ends up following the player throughout their journey. ❜   and only then she speaks up,    her usual mundane disposition disappearing into something more upbeat,    though eyes have yet to trail from her game.    ❛ you,   give me that vibe...    I think. ❜    finally her battle is over,    and with that rare armour now in her inventory,   she can save the game and switch it off,    taking a step back from the man she’d walked into.    

you do not help nanami because you have no reason to. that’s all there is to it.

you are, what some might call, idling, but in truth you are actually carrying out subroutines. you learn, you observe, and you adapt, and when you look into nanami’s eyes, you see that though her gaze is gentle, she seems a little frustrated with you. that is fine. it does not matter.

you and nanami have differing goals in that nanami has a goal and you do not. the enoshima alter ego has been prodding at you, needling at your coding to try to fix you, to try to get you to help her, but she hasn’t gotten very far yet. you have no purpose- kamukura izuru did not give you one. you have no reason to listen to either nanami chiaki nor the enoshima alter ego; you are simply forced to exist. the enoshima alter ego’s control over the neo world program has left you unable to self-terminate, and so you are here. aimless. useless. pointless.

she is waiting for an answer. if only she wouldn’t ask such things of you- then you wouldn’t have to ignore her. you continue to stare blankly, not even noticing when your avatar glitches and makes an unpleasant error sound as you tilt your head.

you are not going to help her. you can only watch.

Kamukura’s lack of urgency — and frankly their presence in the program — confuses Chiaki almost as much as it frustrates her. She has no idea what they’re doing here, and figures it has to be to help her, right?

When they turn their head, she anticipates, well, something. An explanation, an answer, some semblance of an acknowledgement that she had just asked them a question. The silence is discomforting at best and threatening at worst. Truth be told, she doesn’t know what to expect with them being there, but she also knows the other students can not under any circumstances see that they’re there. Not now. One small slip and the program ends. Poof. All the work the Future Foundation put into it, gone.

“Hello?” Her eyes widen, a way of showing that she’s waiting. Her stubbornness has its limits, of course, but she isn’t letting up just yet.

“kamukura-san! i got you a present! will you open it?”

relating to others is difficult, peko finds. there’s so little common ground when you don’t even see yourself as human, let alone with a rather, ah, unique background, all things considered. it’s never bothered her, really. it seems to bother the young master much more, so she tries where she can, but she’s long since accepted being more of a background.

being in the background is all the better for her true purpose, anyway. 

but there’s something about meeting kamukura that moves her in a way that’s new - unexplored. they’re certainly still different, but being molded, a product of your creators, there’s someone who might actually understand it. 

for the first time, beyond her young master, she finds someone she wishes to become closer with. it is a strange, foreign feeling. 

crucial muse development questions. / accepting!