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And that’s a wrap guys !

All the gifts have been posted. Apologies again for the slightly-more-chaotic-than-usual posting schedule, I did my best. Thank you to @magioftheseas, @nadisabug and @bidoofgodofdestruction for helping me and making another gift, you guys are the true MVP.

I really, really hope you enjoyed this event. As always, it was a pleasure to host it <3

#komahina secret exchange

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Title: Day Off

Author: @nadisabug​

For: @summer-owo-holdings-lp​

Pairing: Hinata x Komaeda

Warnings: mild language, other than that none

Prompt: 1) Beach 2) Singing 3) Post-Simulation

Author’s notes: I managed to use all three prompts this time, I hope you like it!!

“This is dumb.” Hajime stated, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. He was angry and Nagito knew it. Hajime had made his distaste clear from the very moment the met up to the moment they stepped foot on the beach. However, Nagito just continued to lay out the blanket he had carried, tugging on the edges to pull it taut across the sand. Hajime frowned and sighed. When Nagito still did not respond to Hajime’s complaint, he sighed again.

“Not spending time with you, of course, that’s not dumb,” Hajime grumbled. Hajime was so used to battling Nagito’s self doubt that it came natural to defend against it.

“Of course,” Nagito grinned, a gleam in his eye. He was teasing Hajime, not a rare occurrence by any means.

“C'mon babe you know that’s not what I meant,” Hajime sighed. Nagito glowed red at the nickname, which was partially Hajime’s aim. The other motive was to prevent him from firing back. No matter how long they had been dating Nagito still couldn’t seem to process pet names.

“I know, I know,” Nagito said, relenting. “But it still isn’t dumb. Fuyuhiko and the others are just looking out for you.”

Hajime snorted. “By preventing me from doing my job? How does that benefit them?”

“I said they were looking out for you… Babe.” Nagito said the word like it was a test, unsure of himself. Hajime grinned and a spark fluttered in his chest. Gods, it was like he was brand-new around Nagito, everything as good as the first.

What had happened was Fuyuhiko, Nevermind, Owari, and few other decided to forcibly give Hajime the day off. They cleared it with Makoto and Kirigiri, just to make sure, too. They doubled up into pairs to take care of his duties for the day, his meetings and checking in on how everyone was doing with thier jobs. It was a smooth operation, almost an intervention.

“You’re too fucking stressed out. You need to calm the fuck down,” Fuyuhiko had said. The others had just nodded in agreement.

It wasn’t the best intervention.

It wasn’t even going to work until Nagito put his hand on Hajime’s shoulder, gave him those eyes, and asked “please?” so sweetly and endearingly.

Then Hajime couldn’t say no.

Nagito finally finished setting up the blanket and the picnic basket and sat down, motioning for Hajime to join him. Hajime grinned and sat down- then plopped his head onto Nagito’s lap. Nagito let out a choked sound, but made no move to remove Hajime’s head from it’s makeshift pillow.

Hajime closed his eyes and shifted onto his back. Then, he really started to relax. The gentle crashing of the waves, the sound of Nagito’s breathing, the warm sun on his body - everything wanted him to unwind.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Babe?” Hajime finally croaked.

“Nyuh-uh-huh!” Nagito forced out a strangled response.

Hajime opened his eyes and looked warily into Nagito’s. His face was beet red and his breathing looked uneven. Hajime reached up with his closer arm and stroked Nagito’s arm. “Hey, you need to relax,” he added with a small smirk on his face.

Nagito began to nod, then shook his head. “How am I supposed to when you’re-” Nagito gestured wildly to Hajime.

“While I’m relaxing too?” Hajime said innocently, pouting just a tad.

Nagito scoffed. “Can you only relax by winding me up?”

“I will admit, it is quite therapeutic.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Well, comfortable to Hajime. Nagito was still tense.

So Hajime sung. He did have a talent for it, so he sang to hopefully calm Nagito down. It was not any specific song, it was just a harmony of notes he hummed. He could admit though that it sounded really good. It was almost as if he had a talent for it or something.

After a little bit, he finally felt Nagito settle down. His muscles relaxed and he leaned back to prop himself up with his arms. Hajime gave Nagito another few moments before he finally sat up. He looked to Nagito, now smiling dreamily, and smiled back.

“Wanna eat?”

Nagito nodded so they did. Teruteru had prepared the lunch, so it was by far the best packed lunch they had ever had. Cold finger fod and warm appetizers were packed masterfully so that they did not end up lukewarm. Although this lunch was top teir, Hajime couldn’t help but to think that he would have prefered it if Nagito made it. He preffered anything that Nagito did to be very honest.

They had been dating for almost a year now, more specifically around ten months. It was hard to tell because their relationship kind of just faded into existence. It just happened. After about a year of being out of the simulation they just were dating. There wasn’t any big confession, or giant heartfelt talk, it kind of just happened.

The moment Hajime realized he liked Nagito, though, was big for Hajime. He was talking to Fuyuhiko and the topic slowly shifted to Nagito.

“You guys are pretty close now, huh?”

“Yeah,” Hajime nodded. “Something’s bothering me though.”

Fuyuhiko raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Hajime sighed. “Well, it’s just…” He stopped a moment to collect his thoughts. “I don’t like how close he is to you.”

Fuyuhiko did not respond.

“It’s just he told me about his memories in the simulation and from school, about how you guys were always really good friends and how you guys talk so much and-”

“Are you jealous that he’s better friends with me?” Fuyuhiko snorted. “That’s dumb.”

“No, because it’s not just you,” Hajime sighed. Fuyuhiko stopped laughing and adopted an unreadable expression. Hajime wasn’t sure what he was thinking. “I don’t like how close he is to Nevermind, or Koizumi, or even Saionji. It’s just whenever he’s talking to someone I don’t want him to be…”

Then it clicked in Hajime’s mind. He didn’t want Nagito to be paying any attention to them because he wanted Nagito to be paying attention to him.

He liked him.

Hajime’s face grew red and he coughed, doing his best to hide his face from Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko did not let him live that down.

After they finished eating, they sat at the beach together talking until late into the night. Once the sun set they went back to Hajime’s room and slept. At the end, Hajime was very glad to take this day off and made a mental note to ask his peers to have more of these days in the future.

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

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Title: The Sun Sets

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @bidoofgodofdestruction

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina (other characters are just mentioned but you get some dr1 kids + Matsuda)

Rating/Warnings: T+ (violence, gore, murder, despair)

Prompt: “AU where Hajime didn’t become Kamukura, but he’s still ultimate despair, and Nagito and him spend time together”

Author’s notes: I love the idea of Despair!Hinata so much so I got really excited. What a rich fountain of potential! This is how it turned out. As much as I really wanted to dig in, I didn’t want to go too far with such a dark prompt, so it’s…a respectable 3.25K word length. There’s references to a certain song throughout because I’m sorry. (It’s from the Tangled animated series.)

He wasn’t a bad person. It wasn’t his fault. Everything he did—they deserved.

All he wanted was to stand proud. All he wanted was to be important. He had tried everything, he even studied his ass off and what did that get him?

It wasn’t his fault. He’s the villain, he’s sunk down to the lowest he can go, but it’s fine. This is just what happens when people get treated the way he did.

This fucker didn’t even get a chance to beg for mercy before Hinata brought down the bat. Again. Again. Again. It’s what they got for spitting on him, and it was what they deserved.

Hinata was panting, and the helmet was getting uncomfortable. Dropping the bat, it clattered against the ground, smearing the broken concrete with the same red as the sky above. Shaking, Hinata hoisted off the unwieldy Monokuma head off his own, and he was seized with the impulse to fling that to the ground too and stomp it into bits.

He gets halfway there, but is stopped by a lilting giggle.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’ll just hurt your foot.”

It’s true that the helmet is barely scratched. Hinata still kicks it, and it goes rolling until it smacks into the wall, right next to the fresh corpse. He doesn’t turn. He just waits until slim arms wrap about his waist and a head of fluffy white hair settles on his shoulder. A cold chain presses into his back.

“If you want to break it, you should use a metal pipe.” Komaeda Nagito giggles. “We can find another one. It’s no big deal.”

Hinata inhaled sharply.

“Is there even a point to keep wearing this stupid thing?”

“I don’t know.” Komaeda hummed. “Do you want to keep wearing it?”

He pushes Komaeda away so that he can pick up the helmet. He brushes off the dust, but doesn’t put it on, instead carrying it limply. He does look at the corpse once more, at the dark uniform that reminds him of when he had been a disposable reserve.

Well. He was still disposable even if he wasn’t a reserve anymore.

“Come on, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda cajoles cheerfully. “Let’s leave this body for the crows and go someplace nicer.”

“Guess there’s no reason not to,” Hinata muttered, pausing when Komaeda knelt down to pick up his bat. He gives an experimental swing at the air, and beams at him. Hinata’s lips simply pull into a straight line. “Let’s go, Komaeda.”

Komaeda frowned at him.

“You know I don’t answer to that anymore.”

“Komaeda Nagito,” he insisted. “We’re either going or we’re not.”

Komaeda sighed.

“I swear… I definitely spoil you way too much, Hinata-kun.”

–

It had been Enoshima Junko who opened his eyes, but the reason why he was there was because of Komaeda Nagito.

A so-called Ultimate Luck, Hinata had heard of him here and there. He was infamous even among the reserves for his creepy and condescending attitude. Komaeda would’ve been torn to literal pieces by his class if they ever got the chance, Hinata was sure of that.

As for his own feelings… They’re complicated.

Komaeda had found him among the corpses of the rest of the reserve course. Komaeda had stared down at him and wondered aloud, “Good luck? Or bad luck?”

He had knelt down, all wide-eyed curiosity.

“Hey. Can you hear me?”

Hinata had nothing else at the time. He had, in fact, been prepared to die with everyone else. But he hadn’t. Even a deity wouldn’t know why he had taken Komaeda’s hand that day. Especially when even Enoshima Junko looked disappointed he was still alive.

Komaeda is…not his only friend, per say, but probably the one he’s most used to associating with of Ultimate Despair. His madness is less overwhelming, more underlying, in the twisted edges of serene smiles and the small catches of breath between laughter. In some ways, he’s easiest to deal with.

That doesn’t mean Hinata can let his guard down. Even when lead to an open space, with dead leaves crunching under their feet and not a speck of other life in sight. This place used to be a park, going by the long rusted and crumbled heap that used to be a bench.

“Did you want to talk?”

“I just happened to stumble across you, that’s all,” Komaeda says, poking his cheek. “Are you doing okay? You’re getting a bit reckless.”

“What does that matter?”

“Hmm.” Komaeda pursed his lips. “Is this about Ikusaba-san? Aha, it’s pretty pitiful, right? Ikusaba-san really thought that hateful girl was someone she could trust. Someone she knew better than anyone else. And yet, she was so surprised when she was discarded without a second thought! Ehehe.” Komaeda clapped. “Such despair! What a fitting end to her miserable existence!”

“Matsuda had been the same way,” Hinata muttered. “Gave everything to her only to be thrown away like trash. Maybe the rest of the reserve course had the right idea.”

It’s only a matter of time before I get stomped to pieces, too.

“It wouldn’t be despairing if you died right now after all that’s happened,” Komaeda said. “Just disappointing. So, you should stay alive, Hinata-kun. Alright?”

“Fine.” It’s a half-hearted grunt of a reply, but Hinata had been facetious before. With how much spite he had, to die now would be nothing more than a shame. “It’s not about Ikusaba. I didn’t know her; why would I care about what happened to her?”

“Because under Hinata-kun’s brusque exterior lies a soft heart of gold!” Komaeda exclaimed, hands up and open.

Hinata stared at him. At the red of the sky. At the dead trees. Once again at Komaeda’s plastic smiling face.

“It’s a joke,” he chirped, that smile cracking a little before expanding. His gaze flickers between Hinata’s unimpressed gaze and the Monokuma helmet in his hands. “But you have been acting up lately. I can’t help but worry.”

An Ultimate is worried about me.

He wonders how his idiot past self would’ve felt about that. When it had been Enoshima feigning concern, she made him feel important. Significant. Valued in how tired, angry, and aggravated he was with everything. It had all been a farce, of course. Enoshima didn’t give a shit about him.

But, Komaeda was sincere to a fault. He had no need to trick him. He didn’t even need Hinata around.

Well. There was one reason Komaeda might want him around.

“Are you lonely, Komaeda?” Despite the words, Hinata’s aware of how dull his tone is. It almost sounded bored, and he can’t say what his actual feelings on the matter are. If he feels anything at all. “Do you want me to stay the night?”

Komaeda sighed at him, unimpressed.

“You’re so annoyingly defiant. Haven’t figured out your place at all.”

“I don’t have one,” Hinata reminded him coldly. “My use as a reserve dried up the second Hope’s Peak fell to despair. And any use I had as a despair was negligible to begin with. You just keep me around because you’re lonely.”

“I don’t keep you,” Komaeda huffed, playing with the chain around his own neck. “You’re not a dog, Hinata-kun.”

I’ve been told differently in the past.

“You didn’t answer my question, Komaeda.”

Komaeda turned away, nose upturned.

“And I don’t plan on answering at all.”

“Alright.” Hinata didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll stay with you, then.”

Komaeda stiffens. Red touches his cheeks, but it’s not the red of despair. The way Komaeda trembles, however, may be akin to it.

Hinata just takes his hand. Squeezes. It could even be considered a romantic gesture, but to suggest Hinata’s capable of such a thing anymore is laughable. He’s barely human at this point, worn down to nothing more than impulses and irritability. Little more than an animal, really.

Even animals seek companionship. That doesn’t necessarily mean they feel love towards that companion.

–

The two of them are huddled together for the first class trial. Komaeda watches avidly as Naegi Makoto struggles to defend himself, as Kirigiri Kyouko speaks up with her findings, as Maizono Sayaka’s plans are brought to light. Hinata does stare at Naegi’s face when he finds out, taking in the betrayal and disbelief.

“It’s his own fault for trusting so easily in this situation,” he found himself saying. “He’s just asking to be used and abused.”

“It’s still such a shame about Maizono-san,” Komaeda said. “Such a bright presence. She could’ve turned out so much better.”

“They were all tricked so easily by Enoshima in the first place,” Hinata muttered. “Even I knew she wasn’t a good person from our interactions. These idiots happily locked themselves with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Komaeda elbows him.

“You shouldn’t be so dismissive towards your underclassmen.”

Hinata gives him a look but says nothing more. He just watches. Watches as their so-called underclassmen ‘solve’ the murder, watches as they sentence Kuwata Leon to death.

Hinata remembers that Souda had worked on every machination to be used for execution. He had been especially proud of Kuwata’s because, apparently, the two of them had been friends at one point. Hinata wasn’t surprised from watching Kuwata. Him and Souda had a lot in common.

And what did that get him?

“How unpleasant,” Komaeda sighed. “Kuwata-kun really was unfortunate.”

Komaeda almost sounds distant, and when Hinata watches him, he notes a flicker of something. Darker, curious, intent—a malicious flicker that rose to attention whenever that Naegi’s face was on screen.

“I really thought Naegi-kun would die first,” Komaeda says then, voice low. “But—I guess his own luck is not to be trifled with.”

No, Hinata thought. Maizono Sayaka just couldn’t bring herself to kill him after all the support he showed her. She settled for framing him instead.

Both lucky and unlucky, he supposed, and decided he didn’t want to think further on the matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t. Enoshima was just going to kill all of them anyway once she made her point, and then… And then…

I guess the Future Foundation will finally crumble with them.

–

“It makes you angry, doesn’t it?”

“It drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Aren’t you tired of being looked down upon? Stepped on? Being tossed aside like dirt?”

“I feel bad for you! So! I’ll let you destroy the world with me!”

He had suspected from the start that Enoshima Junko wasn’t a good person. She was grating and obnoxious, always in your face and shrill when she got annoyed. But the funny thing about being desperate is that you find yourself seeking validation even from people who get under your skin. People who drive you mad—encouraging more and more madness.

He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the same for Komaeda. If she had driven him the same way. Komaeda had claimed to hate her, passionately at that, but he shared the same fixation as everyone else.

She was too compelling to have anything but that effect. Something like that.

Although, really, Hinata knows he was just looking for excuses. He had been miserable and angry from the start, and she fueled the fire. Even if she hadn’t been there, he still…

…I’d still be trying to destroy myself.

Komaeda is sleeping comfortably on his chest. Komaeda often had nightmares and just the presence of another person was enough to keep him soothed. It’s pitiful. Seriously. Komaeda reminds him of himself and it really pisses him off.

And yet, even if he’d strangle his old self in a heartbeat, he can’t lay a hand on Komaeda. He’d have an easier time swinging a bat at Enoshima’s head. It was bizarre. It was uncomfortable. It had nothing to do with compassion or sympathy. It sure as shit had nothing to do with gratitude or obligation.

He just—doesn’t feel that way towards Komaeda specifically. He hates himself more than words can begin to convey. But he doesn’t hate Komaeda. His feelings towards Komaeda are complicated. Indifference. Apathy. Passivity. Nothing. But also…a pull. Like magnets drawn together.

Animals seeking company based purely on instinct.

Komaeda murmurs a string of nonsense, rubbing his face unconsciously into Hinata’s sternum. He smears drool. It’s disgusting, except Hinata doesn’t really care. It’s not any better or worse than being covered in someone’s blood, after all.

Tomorrow, there’ll be a new broadcast of their once underclassmen. That Naegi who Komaeda watched so intently has smartened up a little, given that he’s making some intelligent allies. Even then—Enoshima had outsmarted all of them. It’s still only a matter of time. Only a matter of time.

–

And then. That time never came.

–

“Hinata-kun? Can you hear me? Are you alright? Are you still moody? Aha. Well, it’s not like I don’t understand.”

Komaeda laughs, settling beside him like any friend would.

“Who would’ve thought? The one who took down that hateful girl was someone so, so—so normal. So unassuming. An Ultimate Lucky who wasn’t even that lucky.” Komaeda nudges him like he should be in on the joke this world has become. “Isn’t that underwhelming? Isn’t that depressing? I hated her more than anything and I never even… Naegi-kun didn’t even hate her, Hinata-kun. He still wanted her to live. He didn’t even hate her.”

“What a joke,” Hinata muttered darkly. “A total fucking nobody like that…? Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Komaeda sighed, head tilted back. “I was taken by total surprise.”

You watched him intently, though. You knew that kid. You must have felt towards him some kinda way—

And that just made Hinata angrier.

“Let’s go back to Hope’s Peak,” Komaeda chirped. “Let’s see if we can catch them.”

Let’s see if we can kill them.

“I suppose we should at least set up a proper funeral for that hateful girl and for Ikusaba-san as well,” Komaeda went on, eyes twinkling in the shadows. “Don’t you think so, too?”

Hinata doesn’t answer. Truth be told, he can’t begin to care about that. Not when he’s still fuming, still gritting his teeth, still grinding the molars to dust.

“You’ll give yourself a headache,” Komaeda scolds lightly.

Hinata bit his tongue.

“Y’know,” Komaeda goes on conversationally. “If a lackluster Ultimate Lucky is capable of that, I wonder what you’re capable of.”

In the next second, Hinata gripped him by the throat. Komaeda isn’t even startled, much less afraid. He just keeps smiling up at Hinata, curious and bright-eyed.

“Naegi-kun did have his precious classmates,” Komaeda murmurs, trailing his fingers along Hinata’s knuckles. “You don’t have anyone.”

Hinata stares at him before sighing, shaking his head as he released the other.

“I have you,” he muttered, gruff and cold.

“Oh!” Komaeda laughed. “That’s worse than nothing!”

–

Komaeda’s all kinds of chirpy and cheerful when they reach Hope’s Peak. He skitters about, excitable and nostalgic, yammering on and on about things that occurred, both on the broadcast and back when they had been in school. Hinata, for obvious reasons, had never been in the old main building, so he just listened half-heartedly as he trailed his fingers along the wall.

“And there was site of the first killing game!” Komaeda exclaims at one point. “Did you know? Hope’s Peak experimented on one of the reserves to make the Ultimate Everything.”

“I did know,” Hinata retorted. “I was one of the candidates.”

“E-Eh?! Really?! You never said that before!” Komaeda gasped. “What was it like? Was it utterly miserable and full of despair?!”

I didn’t know the full ramifications. What changed was—

“This is what’s going to happen to you,” Matsuda had snapped, smacking the desk where the files laid. “Is this really what you want?”

There were other candidates. Given how he had never been picked above others before, Hinata still wondered why Matsuda even bothered.

“Hinata-kun?”

He supposed it was for the same reason this guy bothered.

“It wasn’t really anything, Komaeda.”

Komaeda hums, even as he doesn’t hide his annoyance at being called by name.

“You cheated death twice, I suppose, considering what happened to that unfortunate little experiment. Aha, maybe you should have won the lottery instead.” He chuckles at the thought. “Aah, the thought of just dying alone on a hospital bed is so despairing! But I wouldn’t know if this is much better.”

Komaeda is faced away from him, skipping on ahead. Hinata follows without another word, all the way until they get to the stairs. The helmet weighs heavier and heavier with every step downward. Finally, they’re at the trial room. Komaeda looks around with blatant fascination. He quickened his pace to get to the bloodied mess that still stunk up the stale air about it.

Komaeda sighs oh so happily, rummaging through his case for his tools as Hinata slinks up behind him silently.

“How lucky,” he croons. “The hand is still in-tact…!”

Komaeda has a bit of trouble getting the chainsaw to start. He huffs, irritated.

“Urgh, why now…? Why when my greatest enemy is—?!”

Thwack.

Hinata didn’t hit him that hard with his bat, of course. Komaeda still dropped like a rock with a weak groan. Hinata swings down again, crushing the chainsaw to bits.

“H-Hi… Hi…”

Weakly, Komaeda tries to reach out, both for him and for the busted tool.

“W-Wh…”

“Sorry,” Hinata said, and he sets aside a device that makes Komaeda’s eyes grow hopelessly large. “Took this without asking. If you don’t forgive me, that’s fine.”

Komaeda makes a strangled sound of despair. When Hinata hoists him up, Komaeda flails in protest, screaming and clawing at his helmet until his fingernails break and blood is smeared over the dark metal. It doesn’t even slow Hinata down in carrying him out, and Komaeda can’t even stop him from detonating the bomb once they’re far enough.

–

Rather childishly, Komaeda is turned away from him, pretending he isn’t there even as he bandages up Komaeda’s fingers.

After a while, Komaeda announced, loudly and contemptuously, “My head hurts.”

“I’m surprised you’re still conscious,” Hinata remarked. “You’re hardier than you look.”

Komaeda scowled but shut his mouth firmly. It didn’t last for long.

“The others…are going to want you dead for what you did, Hinata-kun. And they’re going to blame me, too. How tremendously unfortunate.”

Hinata couldn’t care less about that. He had already figured he might as well make the world his enemy when he became the villain.

The remnants…the future foundation… It doesn’t matter who stands in my way. They’re all parasites as far as I’m concerned. Yes. Even him. We’d all be better off without any of them.

“She’s gone,” Komaeda whispered, then. His eyes fell shut. His breath hitches. “She’s really gone.”

Hinata discards his helmet once more. He scoots close, wrapping his arms around Komaeda’s shoulders and pulling him flush, back to Hinata’s chest. Komaeda stiffens as Hinata nuzzles into his hair.

You know it too, don’t you?

“Komaeda.”

“Stop,” Komaeda groaned, struggling a pitiful amount before slumping. “Don’t call me by name. Even if I did answer to it, I don’t want to hear it fall from your filthy reserve mouth.”

“Komaeda.”

You feel the same as me. We’re similar, after all.

Komaeda whines as Hinata breathes in. Hinata pulls back, turning Komaeda towards him and squeezing his shoulders.

“Komaeda,” he says, looking deeply into the other’s gaze. “Let’s destroy this world. All of it. All of it. Let’s destroy everything. Hope, despair—and the future.”

Komaeda stares back.

“Hi…nata-kun…?”

The sun sets on a new age, one without her. It’s still just as wretched, and Hinata’s as ready as he’ll ever be for it.

#komahina #komahina secret #fanfiction

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( We have a couple of gifts that are still on their way, sorry for the delay, and please hold in there :D )

#komahina secret exchange

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Artist: @fishmum ~~

For: @magioftheseas

Prompt: Outfits with a rain/fish theme

Notes: wahh this prompt was very lovely to do. I love these kind of color palettes and as seen by my own name, i adore anything to do with fish and water. i hope this is to your satisfaction~~

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanart

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Title: Time Together

Author: @poisoned-monkey

For: @glazzzzzzzze

Pairings/Characters: Nagito Komaeda / Hajime Hinata

Rating/Warnings: E

Prompt: Traveling the world post-tragedy (dr3)

Author’s notes: I hope that you enjoy this! It was super fun being a part of this exchange again o(^▽^)o

Hajime slammed the door to their shared bedroom and sat down on the bed with his head in his hands, pulling at the strands of his hair that once again needed trimming. Nagito sighed as he put down his book, taking careful attention to insert a bookmark between the pages.

He scooted over and draped an arm around Hajime, gently prying one of his hands away from his face.

“What happened?” he asked softly, already knowing some version of the answer.

Hajime tore his glare away from the ground to give Nagito a frustrated expression, his eyes glossy.

Future Foundation had been pushing them both in numerous ways, Hajime especially. They intended to try and experiment on Hajime again; something about harnessing Izuru Kamukura’s power.

A tense silence sat in the air but it didn’t seem to affect Nagito as he rubbed soothing circles on Hajime’s back. After a good bit of waiting for the other to speak, Nagito decided to say something instead.

“How about this, Hajime.” he said moving to bring the other’s head closer to his chest. “We leave. Tonight or tomorrow. It’s your choice.”

Hajime tensed in his arms but allowed himself to be held. “You can’t be serious.”

Nagito hummed. “I’m very serious, Hajime.”

Hajime thought for a long while and then let out a deep sigh. “Could we even make it out there on our own?”

Nagito nodded. “We’ve seen worse, I’d say,” Images flicked through their heads of the various calamities they had experienced together and apart.

Hajime sighed and rubbed the hand that held him. “Well, I’ve always wanted to see the world.”

Nagito and Hajime left without much fanfare. A few solemn goodbyes to their classmates who swore they’d keep their departure a secret and then they were heading out on their own.  

They walked solidly for a week or two, just to get some distance between the Future Foundation and themselves. They passed the desolate and despair filled land without paying much of it any mind. Their missions hadn’t taken them too far out but far enough to see the devastation. Their own memories held much of the carnage.

When they reached their destination, Nagito gave an exhalation of relief. They could finally rest and catch their breath. The destination they had decided on was a small town on the coast, rarely visited by Future Foundation or much of anyone. But that didn’t mean they could let their guard down. This was Junko Enoshima’s utopia,; a world still tainted by her delusion.

The entrance to the town was heralded with a small, dirty sign without much design. The sign pretty much spoke for the whole town.

As they wandered the streets, they settled on a cramped looking family home that didn’t look too damaged. They scanned the house for potential hazards and settled down.

Nagito relaxed into a shredded couch and stretched his feet, Hajime offered him some water from their canteen. He took it gratefully, the water refreshing his parched lips and throat.

“I think we’ve gone a pretty good distance from them. It’s probably safe to rest up a little bit,” Hajime said, cracking his knuckles from where he stood looking out the window. Nagito nodded, more relieved then he’d say out loud. “I think so too. Perhaps we can even do a little sightseeing?”

Hajime smiled a bit. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

It went unspoken between them about what exactly the sights were in that destroyed world but they kept it between them in a companionable silence.

When nighttime came one of them slept while the other kept watch, Nagito offered to take the first shift so that Hajime could get some much needed sleep. During those past couple of weeks, he had run himself ragged. Hajime slept deeply and the usual tension he held about him was calm. Nagito smiled to himself as he smoothed down Hajime’s cropped hair. He hoped they made the right decision.

When morning came, Nagito suggested that they go out and explore the town, his sense of curiosity as prevalent as always. Hajime reluctantly agreed and they gathered their things and started out of the house.

They tiptoed down the small stone steps that lined the path outside the door and walked along the unusually tight walkways. The air was thick with the scent of the sea and pollution but it was a familiar scent for both of them. They peeked into the houses and salvaged what they could.

Nagito paused in front of what looked to be a gift shop and peered in through the dusty windows. He looked back at Hajime expectantly and Hajime gave him a nod. The door came open with a creak and a thin billow of dust.

Nagito walked in to see that most of the giftshop’s trinkets were torn or broken. He sighed dejectedly as he plucked a ripped stuffed animal from the ground, its button eye dangling from its plush socket. It truly is a shame to see such pretty things come to ruin like this, Nagito thought with a huff. He poked around a few more rooms but didn’t find anything particularly noteworthy, just forgotten memories.

Hajime was already waiting outside the building as he exited and offered him a pat on the back when he came out. Nagito smiled ruefully. “Well, I suppose I should have expected it to be like that. How about we check out the beachside?” Hajime nodded and they set off down the streets.

It didn’t take them long to reach the shore of the ocean. The water that lapped at the grey sand was murky but Nagito enjoyed being at the ocean in any capacity. It brought back fond memories for him, of Hajime and of the makeshift home they had made on Jabberwock Island.

“It’s nice to see the ocean again.” He remarked as he stared out at the sea with a soft demeanor.

“It is,” Hajime agreed.

“I’m very excited to see it come back to its former glory,” Nagito said, picturing blue waters and the sunny sky overhead.

Hajime sighed and crossed his arms. “…Do you think it’ll ever be like that again?” Nagito nodded and reached for Hajime’s hand, holding it reassuringly. With his other hand, he pointed up towards the sky, a sliver of blue in between the ever-present dark clouds.

“It’s other things as well. Small things,” He admitted. “but the world is healing.” Nagito said. From all the things we’ve done to it.

Hajime squeezed his hand and smiled at him, his eyes warm as any summer day. Nagito wondered if he deserved it.

“I guess you’re right,” He said, reaching into his pocket with his free hand.

“I found this hidden behind some junk in the gift shop and I thought you might like it.” Hajime said.  “Close your eyes.”

“How exciting,” Nagito teased as he closed his eyes and put his palm out towards Hajime.

“W-well it’s nothing too special,” Hajime said flustered, as he hurriedly placed the object into his hand. “Open your eyes.”

When Nagito opened his eyes he was met with a beautiful little marble. It had colors swirling inside of it and twinkled in the light. Almost like a tiny galaxy.

“This is beautiful Hajime,” He said holding the marble close to his chest.

Hajime looked relieved. “I’m glad you think so. Maybe some of your luck is rubbing off on me.”

Nagito laughed, leaning farther into Hajime. “Maybe so.”

#fanfiction #komahina #komahina secret exchange

[komahinasecretexchange]

Artist: @mystxmomo

For: @akito666us

Prompt: Library

Artist’s notes: I saw this prompt and got super exited. There’s just something about being in a library that’s inherently already relaxing, and the idea of them reading together is just… heart. I hope you enjoy it!

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanart

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: of justice and catalysis

Author: hajimehinataisnothim / @whatsupscythia (AmericanFrankenstein)

For: @coockiedrop

Pairings/Characters: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime, Komaeda Nagito, Ikusaba Mukuro, Ishimaru Kiyotaka (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: T

Prompt: Secret identities (Maybe one of them being a vigilante and other being a cop?)

Author’s notes: One of the prompts was secret identities and I fell in love. I don’t know how the Japanese police systems work, I just know they have some heavy corruption issues but honestly what police don’t? Another point; do you know how hard it was to write this without using Nagito’s name? Also Hinata says ACAB.

You can also read it directly on Ao3

The streets of Tokyo were boring.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true, Hinata supposed. He took a bite from the donut in his hand, absentminded. Because he wasn’t a slob it was wrapped in a napkin, the other hand clutching bitter black coffee.

The streets themselves were pristine, the trees lush with pink blossoms with petals that swirled into the air at the faintest breeze, and even the nights were tenuous work at their worst. The problem was that his mind often drifted to more exciting work in the field: chasing down criminals, precisely anticipating where gang warfare was likely to occur, and conducting behavioral analysis to catch a killer.

It was a shame, then, that he had never been good at any of those.

No, Hinata Hajime was a rookie in a sleepy prefecture in the middle of a spring afternoon. It wasn’t his first day on the job but the routine was solidified and unchanging. When school let out he would meander to the crosswalk and usher the traffic across, and when there was a storm he would patrol the bridges to see if the water overflowed. Crime was contained to a multitude of domestic affairs and drunken insults. Nothing worth serious dedication or dignity.

Still, a deep undefinable part of him could not help but crave excitement. It was why he had joined the police academy a year ago. The idea of cutting off a bank robbery, of saving someone’s life when they needed him most was riveting. It gave spark to his step and a smile to his face. To be the hero, the protagonist, to save the day at its darkest hour.

But how could he do that when the world was perfect?

“Check your ten, Hinata.”

He was still being shadowed by their squad leader Ikusaba Mukuro. As a rookie, he still had a lot to learn. Mukuro was the best of the best. She had risen through the ranks faster than any woman before her, breaking barriers along the way. Her uniform was always perfectly pressed, her stance steady and balanced, and her eyes cold as steel. While she was slim, she was also pure muscle. Rumors circulated that before she returned to Japan she had been part of a militia in the Middle East.

Hajime couldn’t help but be intimidated by her.

“Sorry, Ikusaba-san.”

It took him a moment to remember where ten’s hand on the clock face was (even though he could have mirrored Ikusaba’s gaze had he thought for one second). When Hajime had worked it out, he peered across the street to see a man shuffling down the sidewalk. In many instances he was normal, if not strange, with one exception:

He was wearing a gas mask.

“Is that normal?” Ikusaba turned to face him and he withered beneath her cold gaze. “Right. I’ll go check on him.”

(What an annoyance.)

He placed his breakfast atop the wall he had been leaning on beneath the bushes. It was unlikely this would take long, but he didn’t want a cat to run away with his food or a thousand other trivial annoyances that would make the day worse. Hajime found it wasn’t the hard grind that defined the day, but the moment-to-moment interaction that solidified the result.

Today was shaping up poorly.

He headed to the crosswalk to cross the road. Ikusaba’s eyes had to still be on him, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint her. This didn’t appear to be the time for jaywalking. It was likely a kid cosplaying or being edgy for the day, they’d get a talking to, and that would be it.

While he was moving, he kept his focus on whom Ikusaba had pointed out. The man stumbled and shuffled, not to the point of obvious drunkenness. It was a pattern of uncaring aloofness, how he floated and swayed as he moved, entirely uncaring. Hajime took note of the scuff marks branding his formerly-expensive name-brand shoes.

(Is this habitual?)

Whatever. He didn’t care.

His focused target hesitated at the outskirt of the wall, lingering one moment with his long jacket brushing the concrete. His hair was wild and completely white, too similar to how bleach left fabric to be real. His hands were swept into his jacket pockets, blending his arms into the folds of the fabric. All of his mannerisms were unkempt, careless. Odd.

When he ducked into the alleyway, Hajime didn’t hesitate to follow.

He didn’t often find himself in the sidestreets of his prefecture. In contrast to the sunny disposition of the main roads, the offshoots were cramped and cluttered, bins set aside on the street. It was muddy between the tile outline of a path that the stranger continued to trod down, into darker yet darker regions. The standing water from the previous nights’ rain splashed against Hinata’s tight-laced boots, staining them with dirt. Another annoyance added to the list on a shitty day.

Finally, the dirt path gave way to a concrete flooring behind an equally filthy restaurant. Hajime had seen the establishment often on his patrols; the food was excellent and the service was terrible. He didn’t visit often. The walls were coated with posters, promotions, and sports of graffiti he didn’t have time to give attention. Instead, his focus was drawn to the four foot stack of something shoved onto a pallet covered in a gray tarp. His target had stopped in front of it, his foot tapping idly.

Hajime reached for his radio, his hand hovering over his belt.

Then the man turned around, drew a gloved hand from his pocket, and waved.

Hajime looked behind him. No one else had entered the alley.

(Is this some kind of signal?)

He looked back.

The stranger was inches from Hajime’s face, tilting his head to the left.

“Oh good, you’re here! You’ve been following for a while. Join me.”

Hajime jumped back and fell backwards, down onto the concrete.

“You’re under arrest!” He barked out even though his back stung. It was the first thing that came to mind, unfortunately for his pride.

The man laughed. Whether it was his remark or the fall that elicited it, Hajime couldn’t tell. What he could tell now that he was up close was that the mask was a custom creation. While his voice would usually be muffled with a mask in the way, this one had small speakers built into the side. It was also actively distorting his voice.

“For what? I haven’t even committed a crime yet. What would you even arrest me for?” He took another step closer.

“Yet?” (Was this person stupid? Dangerous? Dangerously stupid?) “ That’s not how this works! At the very least this is suspicious activity!”

“So you’ll arrest me from the ground? I guess they don’t make them like they used to. Officer Ishimaru gave me a rundown yesterday.”

Hinata overlooked the fact that apparently this twig of a man outran Kiyotaka for the time being. “I’m a rookie. This isn’t my forte. What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, the stranger knelt down and offered a hand.

Hajime hesitated, then took it.

His target was oddly strong, pulling him up on one solid motion. It brought a heat to his face that he couldn’t quite place as he steadied his feet on the ground.

He kept their hands clasped for a moment longer than necessary, then pulled away and let go.

(Oh well, more to over-analyze when I’m trying to sleep tonight. He’s talking again.)

“What’s your name?”

“Hinata Hajime.”

“Well Officer Hinata, I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you. I’m preoccupied.“ He swept his same right hand to the side, gesturing to the tarp while keeping the left in his pocket.

“I—You answer my questions! What is this for!?” He could feel his face growing flustered in frustration. The sheer inanity of it all was getting to him.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a bomb.”

(. . . a bomb. A bomb? An explosive bomb!?)

“A bomb!?”

The man rolled his eyes under the mask. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“This isn’t dramatic at all! Thank you, because now I know what I’m arresting you for. Domestic terrorism!”

He was ignored yet again.

“Do you know where we are?”

Hajime blinked.

(What?)

“No? Well, I guess I could tell you. We’re back behind the main bridge. This alleyway is a dead-end junk heap beside the intersection.”

“What does this have to do with—”

“Don’t interrupt.”

Hajime’s jaw dropped. It did little to affect the man in the mask.

“This bridge is essential for the people that use it every day. It’s become a crutch, a reliance. To lose it would be devastating, would it not? Despair-inducing? Imagine what kind of hope that could bring afterwards!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does! But I understand what you’re thinking. You know, someone as awful, as terrible, as lowly as me can’t possibly make a change. In fact, the only thing beneath me… is you.”

“Me?”

“The police state. The whole system is so thoroughly corrupted, rotten all the way through. Don’t tell me that you don’t see it. Or are you simply not looking? Is that it?”

“I…”

“You doubt my candor? Then let me ask you this: you too crave the abnormal to compensate for your painfully boring, normal existence. Am I right?”

“I—”

“Who knows. I’m probably wrong. Who am I kidding, I’m definitely wrong!”

Hajime whipped out the baton at his side.

(It’s time to make him shut up.)

“Or perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye.” The man’s tone stayed even. “Do you know what catalysis is, Hinata-kun?”

“We are not friends.”

“That’s harsh, but I understand. I am the scum of the earth, after all. I understand if you wouldn’t want me to explain it, I’m sure someone like you knows all about—”

Hajime’s patience had worn thin. “Go ahead and tell me!”

(Let him talk. Wait him out and Ikusaba will show up. She’ll know what to do.)

The man stilled.

Hinata felt as if he was being smiled at. Dread piled in his stomach—something was awfully wrong.

With a surprising amount of elegance, the criminal began his speech.

“It’s a chemistry term used for describing chemical reactions. Specifically, an increased rate of a reaction with the assistance of a catalyst. However, there is another meaning that often goes unrecognized; dissolution, destruction, and decay. These are all tied to the catalyst, of course, so the catalyst receives the credit. Don’t you think that the environment, the solution, deserves most of the credit?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I am a catalyst, Hinata Hajime. A sickly symptom of this world. And this is my catalysis.”

(He’s fucking insane.)

The tiredness he had fought off with coffee and unfettered optimism was beginning to set in his bones again.

“I didn’t expect you to understand,” he continued as if he could read Hajime’s thoughts (or perhaps he wore too many emotions on his sleeve; his bulged-out eyes were quite noticeable), “But I have a purpose. You have your ideals and justice, and I have my destruction. I think that makes us alike. One and the same. For you justice is your harbor, your anchor to the ordinary while allowing the hammer of the law to pound down and smooth the unnatural, the strange, the unwanted. And that is what you truly crave, is it not? The unusual? To be different?”

“You don’t know me at all.”

Hajime approached him. At the moment it was none of his concern that he wasn’t supposed to be using weaponry yet. All this talk about catalysts, justice, and destruction was not conducive to a safe, peaceful town.

The man shrugged. “And you don’t know me.”

He pulled his left hand from his jacket and along with it a stainless steel capsule not dissimilar from a water bottle. He tossed it underhanded to the ground towards the policeman.

“Who the hell are you?” Hajime put a foot on the canister, stopping it in place.

(If this is a distraction, it’s a bad one.)

“Finally, he asks! Now you’re making it fun, Hinata-kun!”

The canister spewed smoke into the air. Hajime realized his mistake too late.

“Call me the Ultimate Hope.”

Hinata coughed, waving in front of him to disperse the chemical spray. The baton did little to dissuade the atmosphere that covered him. Upset, he tossed it to the side and stepped forward.

Somewhere, there was a faint click.

It was then he noticed, faintly through the spray, a faint orange light.

At first he was confused.

(A flame?)

His eyes widened.

(A lighter!)

He clawed his way closer, eyes stinging.

(This is what that gas mask was for, wasn’t it?)

He was mentally cursing himself out for not doing anything to stop The Ultimate Hope (?) sooner. Waiting out a madman was a ridiculous idea. All he had to do was get him away from the bomb, and that would be that. He followed like a moth to flame, watching as it dipped and lowered.

Then he heard it.

A hiss.

The cloud in front of him grew darker, and suddenly, a force pushed into Hinata throwing him back. It wasn’t aggressive, it wasn’t an attack, no: the twisted vigilante was on top of him. His hands framed the rookie’s face like a portrait, arms wrapping around his chest and hips at an angle too impractical to attribute to anything but pure, dumb luck.

“I’m not sorry Officer, but I don’t want you getting hurt.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and Hajime could only imagine the look on his face.

Little did he know he wouldn’t have to imagine for long.

The explosive went off.

The world shook and groaned around them. Fire cascaded up into the air like a signal flare, highlighting his enemy—and savior’s—wild mane of hair like a hellfire halo.

Hajime was staring.

The back of his green jacket was also burning. Before he could speak to address it, the stranger chuckled.

“Oh that? It’s fine.” He patted his back as if it were nothing but a mere botherance. He pushed himself up, unfurling his arms from Hinata’s and drawing his hand up to his face. The metal of the mask jingled.

As he blinked to clear the gas from his eyes, Hajime felt a soft press against his forehead.

(Wait. .  .)

The Ultimate had slipped off the gas mask for a phantom mockery of a kiss.

When he pulled back, Hajime could finally see him.

The stranger was beautiful in the most grotesque of ways. His face was pale and thin, gaunt even, with dark circles beneath irises devoid of any color. His lips were red, cracked as if he were parched, and twisted into the most frightening smile Hinata had ever seen.

He stood up above him and cackled.

(That is not fair.)

His laugh was insane, and Hinata knew that he shouldn’t be feeling breathless for this reason but he couldn’t help it.

He was so caught up in the moment he didn’t notice that the Ultimate Hope had started walking.

The man, who Hinata could not possibly know was one Komaeda Nagito, walked over to the wreckage and chaos before them, threw up a peace sign with his fingers, and fell backward off the broken railing.

Hajime couldn’t help himself. He snapped out of his fever, sitting up immediately upright, then broke into a run to the new hole between the alley and the main road.

There he was, the Ultimate Hope, saved by the trash bags stacked beside the stream. He stood up, brushed himself off, and smiled. Then he slipped the gas mask back on and slunk away, only to turn back once.

Komaeda gave Hajime a short, mocking salute.

A soft, “oh,” escaped Hajime’s lips, but he would never admit it.

He stood in the center of the aftermath, his hat clutched in his hands and his world view thoroughly destroyed along with the bridge.

“Hinata.” It was the first time he’d ever heard Mukuro’s voice trill.

“What? Oh! Right. Right, the bridge.” The bridge was the last thought on his mind at the moment, but Ikusaba was attentive as always. She was behind him. Only now she must have considered this worthy of pursuit.

“Did you get a look at his face?”

Hajime thought of the walk, the wave, and the lighter. He thought of the gas mask, a helping hand up, and the fog screen. He thought about the crazy, rambling speeches and the ghost of his arms pushing Hinata down. He thought of the face of the Ultimate Hope himself.

His ears were bright red with blush.

(To hell with it.)

“No. No, I didn’t.” He lied.

“Did he give his ID? Or did he give a name?” Ikusaba demanded.

Hajime had only one answer.

“He called himself ‘The Ultimate Hope’.”

She crossed her arms.

“I hope we never see him again. For his sake.”

(I hope I do.)

Because for the first time in his entire normal life, Hajime’s heart raced with excitement.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

[komahinasecretexchange]

Artist: @glazzzzzzzze / @glazedart

For: @zettern

Prompt: Komahina holding hands at the beach post-game

Artist’s notes:

Just basking in the afterglow, after everything.

I tried using retro-ish inspired themes and colors here. This is also my first time actually trying lineless, hope you can enjoy it!

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanart

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: One in a Million

Author: @hadrian-pendragons

For: @fieldofsunflowers8

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina, background SDR2 cast

Rating/Warnings: T+, mentions of dissociation, self-harm, amputation, self-worth issues

Prompt: post SDR2 hurt/comfort, relationship angst

Author’s notes: I really enjoy exploring Komaeda’s mindset and Hinata’s stubbornness. I tried to mix some of your likes together, and I hope you enjoy!

Hajime stepped into Nagito’s cottage. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs, the kind of tiredness that only came with knowing several hyperactive former-terrorists in an enclosed setting. He’d been working all day, preparing to wake up the remainder of their group—some had been easier to wake up than others, and not everyone was being released from the pods at once. He didn’t think any of them could deal with multiple alarmed, traumatized, possibly insane classmates at once. So, one at a time it was.

He paused beside the lump on the bed, where Nagito was hiding underneath a mass of blankets, quiet and still and quite possibly dead, if not for the breathing Kamukura’s observation skills picked up for him.

Not a pattern that accompanied sleep… but not one that acknowledged his presence either.

A month ago, Nagito had woken up. He’d emerged from the pod with a fractured smile, looked at his arm—no, her arm, and it terrified and nauseated him to see his classmates wake up only to find a part of themselves missing and replaced by her, as if she held some twisted claim on their very being—and asked if someone could break it for him.

None of them went that far, and thankfully neither did Nagito, but the arm itself barely functioned. It didn’t move properly, didn’t react like Nagito wanted, though it was again only Hajime’s red eye that picked up on the odd tells that portrayed Nagito’s frustration. The next person they woke was Mikan, and despite the way she flipped between episodes of silent dissociation and a fake, bubbly smile, she put herself to work managing their…ailments. Mikan was the ultimate nurse, but she might as well have been their doctor, with how much she pushed herself to learn and create for their sakes.

She, with Hajime and Kamukura’s help, had managed to remove the arm. Souda had taken one look at them and gone missing, though Sonia said he was locked up in one of the mechanic labs on the other islands. Hajime had just wondered when Souda had learned how to boat.

It had been several weeks since. Nagito was still arm-less and hiding in his dark cottage, head buried under the blanket except for a tuft of his wild, white hair. Hajime sighed and pulled up the desk chair. He sat backwards, crossed his arms over the back, and leveled the lump under the blanket with a mismatched stare.

“Mikan wants you back at the clinic for a check-in and more therapy.”

No answer. He’d come to expect this. Mikan had been coming here herself to make sure he was healing properly and that the wound would be fit enough for a prosthetic… whenever they got to that point. Hajime thought it would take a while.

“Sonia says Souda’s working on something that might help.”

She hadn’t told them any details, probably because Souda hadn’t told her any—which he found bizarre. He accepted it, nonetheless. Ever since waking up, they’d all been different. Less innocent. Dulled, like mud in water. He wished, sometimes, he was the kind of person that could clear that water with but a few words and his will. But life was harsher than that.

“You should come eat with us today.”

Nagito had been quieter. A lot less hard to read, when his expressions were paper-thin and entirely too broken underneath, even if he still held onto the part of him that was perfectly-fine-if-totally-insane. Nagito also insisted that he stay away from everyone else. He didn’t say why, but Hajime remembered the comments in the simulation. He remembered exactly what Nagito thought of himself.

He remembered the despair disease. Nagito’s feverish demands for him to leave. Hajime still kicked himself for not realizing exactly what he’d meant.

He remembered Nagito’s body, and the trial that followed, and the overwhelming despair toward how someone could do that to themselves.

“Nagito—”

“I can’t do that, Hinata-kun.”

It was a soft, breathy, lighthearted tone. Nagito was the only one that still used last names among them. Hajime hated it.

“Can’t eat? Or can’t look at me?”

“Hmm… I think you might be too much for my eyes.”

Translation: I’m not worth enough to even allow myself to look at you.

Hajime clenched his hands around his elbows and bit his tongue to stop the biting reply that immediately wanted to slip off of his tongue.

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Am I?”

“You’re not alone here, Nagito.”

Silence once more. Hajime had enough. He stood from the chair and returned it to its place, then sat on the edge of the bed. He placed his hand on Nagito’s head and threaded his fingers through the soft, tangled hair he could get to. He tried to be careful, but Nagito still tensed at the touch.

“Stop that.”

“You’re being really stupid, you know that?”

“Why stay, then? Surely, you have someone you’d rather give your attention to.”

“What makes you think you know what goes on in my head?”

“Stop it.”

“You really think I don’t want to be here?”

“Shut up.”

Hajime grit his teeth, “Nagito, you know why I’m here.”

He jerked his hand away the moment Nagito shifted. The white-haired man sat up quickly, harshly, unworried about the bandages covering one side of his body, and reached out. Hajime didn’t fight it when Nagito grabbed him by the shirt with his single hand and almost, almost glared at him.

“Why?” He asked, voice shaky and alarmed and afraid. Hajime hated how much hurt he saw in Nagito’s eyes.

Nagito didn’t look away, though, and that meant a lot to Hajime. Both because he could barely look at his own reflection, at his two-colored eyes, without feeling nauseous, and because it meant Nagito was actually listening.

“I don’t give a damn about hope or despair, Nagito.” Hajime said, low and steady, letting the words he’s really wanted to say sink in. “None of that means anything to me. I care about people. I care about you. And I’m not going anywhere just because you think I should.”

Nagito’s face blanks. It’s almost similar to that unreadable expression. But there’s a glow in his eyes.

“How can you say that?”

Translation: You’re wrong about me. About us.

“Nagito,” Hajime reached up and placed his hands over Nagito’s. It was trembling and cold. Nagito was always cold. “We’ve all been through hell. We’ve all come back. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.” He tugged on Nagito’s hand, and Nagito let go without a fight. “You’re not an exception to that, ever. Not while I’m around.”

Nagito closed his eyes and tilted forward. Hajime wrapped an arm around his side and let that mess of hair flop over his shoulder, Nagito burying his face into Hajime’s shirt.

“I can’t believe that.”

“I’ll just have to prove it to you, then.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“Hajime.”

Hajime closed his mouth with a click.

Nagito took a shuddering breath.

“I can’t do this,” he says. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to not expect everyone to die. Everything to end. I don’t even know how long I have left.” He laughed. It was more of a wheeze. “I don’t know how to believe you.”

Hinata buried his face into Nagito’s hair. He closed his eyes and sighed. He was getting used to being tired. “I’ll just have to show you, then. We can do it together. You can learn.”

Nagito doesn’t speak again. Hinata just keeps him close, arms wrapped around his waist, trying to give him as much of his body heat as possible, because he really hated how cold Nagito always felt.

Nagito doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t kick him out or start cursing at him, either.

It’s a step. There were a million more to go, but Hinata was willing to crawl beside him if it meant Nagito could eventually stand with him.

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

[komahinasecretexchange]

Artist: @talentlessperson

For: @shippingrevolutionary

Prompt: Childhood AU

Artist’s notes: heyyy, so I know you asked for a comic, but I didn’t do that… I’m really, really sorry about that. I couldn’t give it adventure vibes either… It was originally gonna be a comic like you wanted but something happened which made me have to remake it. Things happened and then before I knew it it was already August so I had to resort to making a single piece instead. I’m reeaaally sorry about that and I understand if you’re disappointed. I hope this is okay instead.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanart

[komahinasecretexchange]

Fools

Author: @izurusfattiddies/fxckthisfxckthat

For: @hadrian-pendragons

Pairings/Characters: Komaeda/Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Hajime Hinata, and a splash of Izuru Kamukura and a few mentions

Rating/Warnings: Self Doubt, Hurt and Comfort

Prompt:  Hurt/comfort Hinata and Kamakura and trying to figure out Komaeda.

Author’s notes: This is actually my first ever Danganronpa fic! If the characters seem a bit off I apologize.  I had a lot of fun writing this however and I hope you like reading it!

Komaeda was certainly a man of… puzzling standing. While a seemingly normal person, the moment he opened his mouth made anyone jerk to a halt. He was needlessly self deprecating, and his mindset was far too complicated for most people to decipher. Even Kamukura had difficulty understanding him, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Then Komaeda would likely become boring. But Hinata wanted that. So they’d work together to figure him out. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

“I’m surprised you wanted to spend time with me.” Komaeda spoke as Hinata held out a trip ticket for him. Hinata sighs. “Of course I want to. You are one of my classmates.”

   “I’m not sure I’m worth wasting the-”

   “Where do you want to go?”

Komaeda paused then. Hinata could see the gears turning in his head, as if trying to figure out where Hinata wanted to go. A hand under his chin as he debated their options. “I suppose we could go to the beach…” And then they went off, changing into their bathing suits in their rooms. Though for a while, Hinata just stared into the mirror.

You know this won’t help, right?

“I just want to know him better, that’s all.”

You get attached too easily. It would be easier if I did this.

“You’re too cold. He’ll notice. He’s not an idiot.”

The little trip went well, though for the most part Komaeda stayed out of the water. They made a sand castle together, but a coconut fell on top of it as soon as they finished to Komaeda’s displeasure. He apologized for his luck ruining the event with the sweetest smile that almost made Hinata’s heart jump out his throat. Why was that smile so appealing? Hinata couldn’t tell you why but he just returned one of his own and reassured the other that it was fine.

But that smile kept him up that night. He couldn't wrap his head around why he felt the way he did. Hinata seemed to just be missing a piece of the puzzle. Izuru had other ideas however.

You l-

"No, I don't. I'm just curious about him."

...If you insist.

"I do insist."

Izuru seemed to have had their Hinata's feelings in order, much to Hinata's disappointment. The mystery of his own feelings had been solved by someone who couldn't feel in the first place. It was frustrating, to say the least.

The rest of the night is spent trying to figure out his own feelings and Komaeda. Trying to find out how he ticks. It didn't seem to click with him. All of those gentle smiles with such harsh words about himself. Holding everyone on such a pedestal due to their talent. His near obsession with hope. It was all just confusing.

The next day something suprising happened.

"Would you like to spend time with me? I know I'm not worthy of your time, but-"

"Sure, I don't mind." Hinata is quick to nip the self deprocation quickly. He has to admit, he's never liked when Komaeda goes on one of those tangents. "Any place in mind?"

Again, Komaeda seems to put just as much thought into his suggestion like the time before. "How about the library?" The curly haired male spoke up after putting far too much tought into his answer.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the building due to the nature of the island's set up. Pushing open the large door, the two enter. Komaeda seems to be on auto pilot then, maneuvering over to a certain section, Hinata just seems to mirror his pattern, following behind. "Know what your looking for?"

Komaeda nods with a small hum, crouching in front of the shelve, running his finger along the spines of the books. He seemed so focused, to the point where Hinata didn't want to break his trance. Soon enough, he plucks a book from the shelf, standing and reading the back for a moment before nodding to himself. "I've been looking for this for a while," Komaeda spoke up then. "It just always seemes to disappear when I came to get it. Just my luck really." He let's out a small laugh and that leaping feeling came back, a faint blush threatening to creep up on Hinata.

Komaeda's laugh seemed to have this way of lighting up the room. He wanted to know why.

"Is there anything you want to read?" Green eyes blink curiously at him. To be honest, he wasn't very big on reading. He mainly came just to spend more time with him.

"Not really, but what's your book about?"

Those same green eyes widen slightly, blinking a few times. Was... Was he not expecting to be asked that?

"Ah, I'm not very good at describing things, however-" He hands over the book, attempting to give a rough summary. The book was supposed to be a romance novel, and it seemed intresting enough even though he had no clue of what was happening, since he was jumping into the middle of the series. "If you want to, we could read it together...?" Komaeda offered.  

Well a little reading wouldn't kill him.

Apparently Komaeda read much faster than him, having to wait for Hinata to catch up before turning the page. Though it didn't help that instead of reading he couldn't help but to let his eyes wander over to Komaeda, focused on reading with his head propped up on his hand.

Like the little frown on his face when Komaeda was focused on something. Or his little reactions as he read something, from having his eyes widen a bit to that frown deepening, to a ghost of a smile.

At some point during Hinata's reading. He feels something hit his shoulder. He's quick to glance over and what he saw caught him off guard. Komaeda had fallen asleep and fell against his arm.

Had his eyelashes always been white? Hinata never noticed before now. And he swore he saw faint freckles across his face. A part of him wanted to wake him up but it felt like doing that was a crime. For now, he just draped an arm over him so he wouldn't fall.

You should tell him.

Kamukura spoke up, as Hinata lie awake in bed once again.

"Tell him what?"

That you like him.

"Of course I do. He's my friend." He laid an arm over his head, staring up at the ceiling. At this point he had the pattern memories. He wondered if the other rooms had the same pattern.

Don't lie to yourself. I see how you look at him. You're infatuated with him.

"Whatever."

Days turned to weeks, the two kept spending more and more time together much to their classmates' dismay. Stolen glances had been frequent among each other. It had been a wonder how neither had been caught, though Hinata swore he'd seen a blush creep up on Komaeda more than once.

But now it was the night before the end of their trip. Everyone had been celebrating how close they'd gotten, and they were enjoying their last night together in this strange predicament regardless of the storm outside.

Hinata didn't mind sticking to the wall, occasionally chatting with his fellow classmates. However there was something missing. Well, someone to be more specific.

He hadn't seen Komaeda in the past couple of hours which was strange. Komaeda might not have always spoken up much in the group, but he always lingered near by. Hell even Nanami had been chatting, playing video games with some of the others.

He decided to go find him and drag him back if need be. The rain had picked up significantly since the party had started, Hinata being drenched with minutes of being outside. He looked around the hotel, even going to check Nagito's room and having no luck finding the male. He keeps looking however and it pays off, finding Komaeda sitting on the beach.

He's soaked to the bone, curls clung to his face as he stares out into the ocean. He looked like a wet dog, to put it nicely. Hinata makes his way over, standing next to the other.

"You're going to get sick out here, you know that right?"

Komaeda flinched hearing a voice he hadn't expected, though he looked up with a smile. "I'd get sick regardless Hinata. You of all people should know that."

He sits down next to the other then. "Gonna tell me what's got you out here?"

The response he gets is a shrug as he returns to staring out at sea. "I know I should be happy, that we all get to leave but... I'm not."

"Want to tell me why?"

"It's pointless."

"I'm not so sure about that."

A few moments pass in silence, though it never feels uncomfortable, like when a conversation falls between two close friends, enjoying the silence and each other's company.

"Do you think we'll keep talking?" Komaeda finally spoke, breaking their mutal silence.

"What do you mean? Of course we will. I mean, we did spent time together as a class-"

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"My luck gets people taken from me, Hinata. People die, or abandon me, or worse. I'm a hazard. Being around me is dangerous." Komaeda seems to curl in on himself then, pulling his knees closer.

"Maybe I like danger-"

"Don't say that!" Komaeda snapped, taking Hinata aback. He's not sure he's ever heard him yell before. "This isn't a joke! People have died because of my luck! I don't want to lose more peopl because of it! Not when I care so much for you!"

"Komaeda..."

"I've lost so much because of my luck!I can't lose you too! I've been trying so hard to hold you and every one here at arms length! Yet you just came back over and over!" It was hard to tell, but he knew some of the water on Komaeda's face wasn't just rain.

"Because I care about you Komaeda. I wanted to understand you, fuck I still don't fully.  You're an amazing person,  I just wish you'd see that." He tries to keep his voice calm, reassuring even. Though Komaeda's distraught look made that hard.

"You don't understand! My luck hurts everyone I love! I can't let you get hurt too because I love you too much!" The words blurt out before Komaeda can stop them. He's quick to try and get up and flee before Hinata grabbed his wrist.

"Komaeda I know the risks involved. I know you think you're dangerous but I know better. I know you have barely there freckles. I know your eyebrows furrow when you read. I know you have a soft spot for animals. And I know how I feel about you."

Slowly, Komaeda turns to face Hinata again. "You do?"

For once, Hinata reacted on impulse, pressing his lips against Komaeda's.   He felt him tense at the contact before melting into the kiss. Saying it felt like two puzzle pieces clicking together felt like something from that cheesy romance novel, but it felt right.

Slowly, they pull away staring at each other. "Hinata-"

Suddenly a loud cheering is heard and Hinata's face burns a bright read as he recongized the sound.

"They finally did it!" Mioda cheered loudly. It seemed at some point the class had gone after the two as well. He also sees Souda forking over some money to Kuzuryu. He looks back to Nagito, who had a big smile worn like a medal.

Yeah, he was okay with this.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

[komahinasecretexchange]

Artist: @coockiedrop

For: @lunaeclipsedoesart

Prompt: I would be interested in Steampunk aus, Wonderland AUs, Victorian or ghost AUs! Anything au like

Artist’s notes: Hi! I chose the Wonderland AU and I hope you like it! In case it isn’t really clear, Hinata is Alice and Komaeda is the Cheshire cat! Once again, thank you to the mod, who has continued to host this exchange year after year!

#fanart #komahina #komahina secret exchange

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Visions

Author: @nadisabug

For: @cellophanerose

Pairing: Hinata x Komaeda

Warnings: mild language, other than that none

Prompt: I used two of the three prompts: Hinata being ‘haunted’ by Komaeda, who is still in a coma post sdr2 (whether the hauntings are real or not is up to you) AND Komaeda tracing Hinata’s “Kamukura project” scars when Hinata is overwhelmed with self-identity issues

Author’s notes: I really enjoyed writing this, I hope you like it! I will also be posting this to my AO3 so look out for that link later!

“Hinata-kun.” Gorgeous green eyes smiled at Hajime, arms open wide in an invatation that made Hajime’s heart ache.

Hajime was tired. That had to be it. He had just been relieved from duty by Fuyuhiko from watching over the program because he “was no use to anyone sleep deprived.”

It was a twenty hour shift he had just taken, marked only by the fact that Fuyuhiko worked four hours each day at the same time like clockwork. Everyone gave into the structure Fuyuhiko demanded, knowing that it was more for his wellbeing than anything. Nevermind, Kazuichi, Owari, and Fuyuhiko each watched over the simulation for four hours in rotating shifts, the last eight hours of the day designated as Hajime’s watch. Hajime usually did not abide by the rules, staying past his shift, and only Fuyuhiko had enough strength and little sympathy to tear Hajime from the monitors.

They knew once their peers began to wake up from the simulation - if they would wake up, Kazuchi was always wont to mention - their shifts would become shorter and shorter. However, they all knew Hajime’s would get longer and longer until he woke up. Hajime was obsessed with waking them up, using all of his talents and skills to manipulate the system into releasing them. He worked with the AI he met inside the simulation, Alter Ego, unlocking firewalls that barricaded them from previously accessing certain areas. He knew that they were so close. So close to waking them up. To waking him up.

So Hajime wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t slept in the past twenty-eight hours, or if it was because he was actually going crazy, but Komaeda was standing in front of him.

Crazy as it may seem, this was not a rare occurrence by any means. He had been seeing Komaeda everywhere, his eyes chasing his silhouette in peripherals, a flash of cream coloured hair when he opened his eyes in the morning, honeyed greens smirking at him in reflections.

But this, this was the first time the apparition had spoken.

Maybe Fuyuhiko is right, I am overworking myself, Hajime thought to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head quickly, then opened them back up, expecting his vision to be gone.

But it wasn’t.

Komaeda was still standing there.

Arms open.

Hajime couldn’t help but imagine himself running into them. He had much clarity since he woke up from the simulation. He had regained his memories, and with that, clarity on his feelings, on how he always felt, about Komaeda. The moments they shared in the simulation were some of his most treasured memories now, seeing as they did not interact much before the simulation. He knew that Nevermind still clung to her… what was it called, boat? No, a ship. Her “ship” of Hajime and Chiaki, but everyone else was aware of how Hajime felt. It was hard not to - Hajime was on his last thread of sanity, so keeping his mouth shut was hard. Not like he cared either. They could know or not for all he cared. He just knew that they knew and they knew that he knew they knew and no one really spoke about it. Well, except for Kazuichi’s occasional lighthearted jabs. They never quite landed right though.

But, despite the fact that everything was so peaceful and no one cared about anything here, Hajime felt himself growing angry. He had been working his ass off all day and all night to bring everyone back, to bring him back, and he had the gall to show his stupid sexy face all smiling and offering something that Hajime wanted so fucking bad but knew he could never have. It was just so…. so… infuriatingly Komaeda.

So he did what an overworked, stressed, tired, angry, and quite frankly horny person would do.

He briskly walked past Komaeda, flipping him off on his way.

After the initial acknowledgement, Komaeda became more talkative. He would chatter while Hajime worked, while he ate, while he pretended to sleep. Komaeda would just follow Hajime around, talking to him, and Hajime would ignore him. He figured out that only he could see him - not that it had been confirmed or denied at this point - and as a result wrote it off as a hallucination from being over worked. Playing into it would only make it worse, he reasoned.

“You should take a nap,” Komaeda murmured, reaching out to stroke Hajime’s hair. Hajime didn’t so much as flinch at the action. He knew Komaeda wouldn’t touch him. He hadn’t yet. And Hajime couldn’t let him know that he wanted it. Even if it was fake Komaeda. At least it would be good practice for when real Komaeda woke up, pretending not to crave his touch. If he woke up. “Or just rest even a little. Just because no one has woken up yet means you are a failure.”

Hajime continued to type on the keyboard.

“Such… such hope…” Ah, here he went again. “You could have left them. You could have left us all but you haven’t. There is nothing saying that we will wake up. Honestly, everything is pointing towards us not waking up. And yet still you persist, you push on, you have such hope that we will wake up. Quiet foolishly actually. Idiotic really. Sacrificing everything for just your bizarre hope that something-”

Hajime was glad Komaeda abruptly stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up his regimen of ignoring him if he hadn’t stopped speaking. However, he was concerned about why Komaeda stopped talking. He looked over at Komaeda and saw his eyes fixated on a single monitor, his mouth slightly ajar. Hajime stared at Komaeda a second longer than necessary before turning to the monitor he was observing. The displays for the still eleven occupied pods held a steady green light-active. Well, all except for one. Pod four was blinking orange. Deactivating.

Hajime ran to the pod room as fast as he could, completely forgetting on his way to notify the others.

He ended up not having to tell the others, as they ended up walking into the cafeteria where he was catching up the Ultimate Imposter to their situation. They were not happy they were left out of the beginning of the celebration, but they seemed to understand because of Hajime’s mental state at the moment.

During the celebration, Komaeda made only a short appearance. He strolled up to Hajime while he was alone at one point, leaning up against a wall next to him. Hajime gave him a smug look, then turned to the Ultimate Imposter. I told you so. I fucking told you so.

Komaeda just laughed. “Your hope was always stronger than any reality.”

Hajime wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made him feel warm for some reason. It wasn’t a normal compliment, not by any means, but it was a compliment by Komaeda’s standards. And for some ungodly reason, that was enough for Hajime. The vague but positive comments on Hajime’s hope still made Hajime feel happy, just as if Komaeda were telling him his hair looked nice, or his face was attractive or something.

…Maybe it was Hajime’s inexperience in dating. That definitely had to play a part, but it still took a certain kind of person to actually listen to Komaeda’s comments and hear them for what they actually are.

You were always strong. Stronger than anyone and anything.

That’s what he really meant. And it made Hajime feel good, even if it was just Hajime’s delirious hallucination of Komaeda.

And with the awakening of the first classmate, everyone else’s hope began to burn brighter. While they had been skipping out early on shifts before the Ultimate Imposter woke up, now they stayed late and even doubled up. They did make comments every once in a while that because they were six now Hajime could take four hour shifts as well, but those comments flew in one ear and out the other. As more peers began to wake up, Hajime began to work more and rest less. The World Destroyer Program he created was working, it was waking up classmates, but it still wasn’t waking up him. It wasn’t working enough. With each passing day he worried that somehow Komaeda was different, that maybe he wouldn’t wake up like the rest. And with each passing day, his theory only seemed stronger. Koizumi woke up, and Hiyoko, and Nidai, Teruteru, Pekoyama- and the rest. Next thing Hajime knew everyone except Komaeda was awake.

It stayed that way for a few days, which was not too abnormal. After the Ultimate Imposter woke up, it took a week for Teruteru to wake up. Yet, every single day that Hajime was awake and Komaeda wasn’t was one too many for Hajime. It was pain. Not to mention that when he did sleep he had terrible nightmares of the simulation. Visions of Chiaki being crushed all over again. Scenarios of Junko surviving despite all that everyone had done to prevent it. Images of Komaeda dead, blood everywhere. In every one, Hajime was just helpless. Useless.

Though those were the best dreams compared to the other nightmares Hajime suffered from. The ones about… the project. The worst part about leaving the simulation was regaining his memories of what happened at Hope’s Peak. And what happened when Kamakura was in control.

It was during one of these dreams when Hajime woke up screaming. He shot up in his bed, clutching at the sheets that were soaked with his sweat.

“What’s wrong?” A worried Komaeda fluttered to Hajime’s side. But he did not soothe Hajime.

Anger boiled in Hajime’s veins. Anger at Hope’s Peak. Anger at the ones who created the simulation. Anger at the people who created the Kamakura project.

Anger at himself.

So much anger towards him and only him. None of this ever would have happened. The biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history would have never happened. Nothing would have happened if Hajime just wasn’t so weak. So unhappy with his pathetic, talentless self. Kamakura wouldn’t have taken those lives. Junko would have never gotten the firepower Kamakura provided. The uprising would have never happened. Nothing would have happened.

It was all his fault.

He let out a strangled scream and stood up, kicking the sheets off of him, and stormed to his bedside table. Then, in one fell swoop, he threw the bedside lamp onto the floor. It shattered into a million satisfying pieces, the lightbulb letting out a little pop. He stared at the broken mess for a second. Then, suddenly and all together, all the rage that he had been seething drained from his body. He felt like an empty shell. A ghost.

He collapsed back onto the bed, elbows on his knees, back in a tired hunch. His scars hurt. He hurt.

He felt the bed shift next to him.

Hajime cleared his voice, hoarse from screaming, and spoke. “I hate how weak I was. How weak I am still-”

“Bullshit.”

Hajime looked to Komaeda. His eyes were hard and his face stern.

“I didn’t know you were that deluded to be honest. To think that Hajime Hinata is weak- hah! You are anything but weak. At the last trial, you were given two choices. What did you pick? Neither. You made your own choice. When you woke up from the simulation, Makoto told you to leave, Byakuya told you to leave, Kirigiri told you to leave. Did you leave? No. You stayed and created a program to wake us up. You are strong Hinata, you just don’t believe you are."

"But the mistakes I made-”

“Everyone makes mistakes! And I know everyone says that but its true. We are imperfect creatures. We speed, we cheat, we lie - everyone does wrong in their life. Just because you think your wrong that you did is the worst possible one out there doesn’t mean that you should hate yourself for it. Someone else has probably made the same mistake before. Its how life works. We make mistakes. We stumble. We fall. And when we do, we don’t hate ourselves for it, we push through and become better. Because we have hope for an even better future. We have hope for a future that is perfect because it is imperfect.”

“I don’t want to have hope for a better future, I want my life to be better. I want to not have made these mistakes. I want to not hate myself.”

“Well, no one can take back what has been done,” Komaeda reached out and stroked the scars on Hajime’s head. “We can only make the best of it.”

Hajime leaned into the touch, forgetting for a moment that this was a hallucination.

“How can I do that when I don’t even know who I am? I am not Hajime Hinata, and I am not Kamakura. I am some sort of freak in-between and I hate it.”

“Does it matter who you are?” Hajime didn’t know how to respond. But he did know what he wanted Komaeda to say. I still love you, either way, whoever you may be.

“And just for the record, I don’t hate you, whoever you may be.”

Hajime smiled. That was enough for him, for now.

“Thank you, Komaeda,” he murmured. And he meant it.

“Even the strongest have their moments,” Komaeda agreed. “And you are strong,” Komaeda asserted.

Hajime smiled and turned to face Komaeda. In the dim lights his eyes shone like beacons of hope, of acceptance, of… love. Before Hajime could even think he was leaning toward Komaeda his eyes closing his heart beating his mind swirling his-

“Hinata-kun!” Fuyuhiko burst into the room snapping Hajime out of his trance. He was still sitting on his bed, leaning towards an empty space.

“What?” Hajime responded to Fuyuhiko’s curious gaze. “I couldn’t sleep. Now what is it?”

Fuyuhiko seemed to shake his confusion off. “Get dressed. You’re gonna wanna see this for yourself.”

Hope burst in Hajime’s chest. He couldn’t wait to know. “Is he…?”

Fuyuhiko nodded.

Hajime never got dressed faster in his life.

When Hajime made it to the pod room, he was breathless. He ran up to Komaeda’s now-open pod and leaned towards it. Komaeda was still asleep, eyes firmly closed, which allowed Hajime a moment to catch his breath. About once he did, he saw Komaeda’s eyes begin to flutter.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” Hajime called out to his peer.

It took a moment, but then Komaeda responded. “Ahh… Izuru Kamakura?” Komaeda held out his hand towards Hajime. “No, you’re, uh, Hajime Hinata, right?”

Fueled by his earlier revelation, Hajime responded confidently. “They’re both me.”

“I suppose I should thank you for waking me up? I knew you’d make it to the lowest stratum- I believed in you." Komaeda lifted his head, seeming to remember something. "How are the others?”

Hajime just smiled as the door behind him opened, revealing the rest of their peers waiting outside the pod room. “You’re the last one out.”

Komaeda smiled. Then, he looked pointedly into Hajime’s eyes, a small smirk present on his face. “You’re hope was always stronger than any reality.”

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: So. Can I Hold Your Hand?

Author: @more-ofyou-tolove

For: @pandemonium-present

Pairings/Characters: Komahina/Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Mahiru Koizumi

Rating/Warnings: General audiences, no warnings

Prompt: Mahiru gives Hinata advice on how to talk to Nagito but he just fucks it up in the first few seconds

Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy this! Word count is 1,240.

“Okay, so, why did you want to meet up here?”

“Koizumi-san… Please… You’re the only one that can help me.”

“Uh… huh. And you thought about telling me this on the school roof?”

Mahiru tilted her head to the side as they spoke. In her one hand was a bottle of soda, and she took a quick sip before talking again. “All right, tell me.”

No words at first. There was obvious hesitation on Hajime’s part. “Come on, you didn’t bring me up to the roof for nothing,” spoke up Mahiru.

A deep breath.

“Nagito Komaeda.”

Mahiru almost choked on her drink. "I’m sorry, who?” She spat before she could stop herself. Covering her mouth, her cheeks turned as red as her hair. That was not meant to happen.

The only response to her reaction was a gentle laugh from Hajime. “The reaction I was low-key expecting,” he began, “Knowing you, however, you’d still help me out.”

Nodding, she stood up proper, getting Hajime’s attention as she pointed in a certain direction. “Over there. I often see him sitting over there to read. Before school, during breaks, lunch, after school; he always finds the opportunity to sit there and read.”

All right, such a simple location. “I’ll go talk to him after school today, then,” stated Hajime.

Another sip of her soda.

Even though Nagito doesn’t give off the greatest vibes when being around others, Mahiru does feel a little sorry for him. In actuality, she’s a little glad for Hajime for taking the first step.

“I wish you luck. You’re going to need it.”

Hajime turned around to leave, but paused and returned his view towards Mahiru. “Actually, come with me,” he stated and grabbed her wrist before she even had the chance to respond. “WH- Hintat-san!” She exclaimed, tightening the grip on her soda so as to not lose any liquid.

Good lord, where is he going?!

Down, down, down the flight of stairs they went, zooming past groups of students and the occasional teacher. Pushing past the doors, he circled to the back of the school building - the general field where the bench was.

“I’d like to know what you are doing-” Mahiru started before Hajime held up his finger to shush her. Eye roll. What is this boy up to?

At this point, she’s crushed her soda bottle.

Hajime suddenly went in another direction and dragged Mahiru along. “Here,” he said, crouching behind a bush and pulling her down with him. “I want you to be here when I go to talk to him.”

Head tilt. “… Seriously? You want me to watch you two?”

“N-No, not watch! Just… hide here and check occasionally as support for me.”

“Uh huh. Okay. Not going to guarantee that Komaeda-san won’t see me.” Mahiru shrugged.

—

“After school… right here…” Hajime mumbled to himself in order to calm down. He hoped Mahiru was correct about Nagito reading at this bench.

It’s been a couple minutes since the last bell rang, and there is no sign of the other boy anywhere. Oh well. Lost cause. He can try again some other ti-

“Ah, Hajime! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Oh. Too late now to leave.

“Hey, Nagito,” he straightened out his back as the white-haired male took his own seat next to him. Out of his peripheral vision, Hajime noticed Nagito smiling softly at him.

“It’s rare to see you still around the school after classes ended,” Nagito said, “Usually you head right on home. What’s the occasion?”

“I’m actually here to talk to you.”

“Me?” He titled his head at that. This is rather rare; nobody takes the time out of their day to talk to the lucky student. Mainly because almost everyone intentionally avoids him, however he doesn’t let it bother him. But to think that someone would actually want to talk to him - he’s not quite sure how to react.

Green eyes gazed away from him, “Y-Yeah,” Hajime stammered. Oh no, there goes his confidence. “I catch glimpses of you sitting here whenever you have the chance and,” he trailed off.

“And?”

“I don’t know. You looked - lonely. That’s the word I’m looking for, lonely. So I wanted to sit here and keep you company for a day.” It’s probably nothing too note-worthy, yet Hajime can feel his body trembling and his voice slightly wavering as he explained himself.

Nagito did nothing but stare at the other.

Was this a mistake?

Lowering his head, Hajime started to stand up from the bench. “I’m-I’m sorry for wasting your time like this. I’ll go now-”

“No, no, you can stay.”

Shuffle, shuffle.

“Oh, okay… if that’s what you want…” The brunette bit his lip.

Now he doesn’t know what to do.

The two of them sat on the bench in silence. Once in a while, a lingering student or teacher walked by but paid them no mind.

Where does he go from here?

“… I appreciate your company,” Nagito suddenly said.

“Huh?” The word left Hajime’s mouth before he could stop it.

“It’s kind of you that you decided to sit with me after school. It’s true that I do appear lonely, but it doesn’t really bother me all that much. Still, your presence is nice.”

Hajime felt his heart beating in his chest and his throat slightly close up. Damn it, he got this far, can’t back down!

“But what’s actually the reason you wanted to talk to me? Surely, it can’t be as simple as seeing I looked lonely,” Nagito continued, with a smile on his face.

Drat.

“You caught me,” Hajime finally uttered. He wants to hide, he really does. “There is another reason why I wanted to sit with you…”

“Mm, I knew it. Okay, I’m all ears.”

Hajime wrung his hands together. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he doesn’t know if it’s due to the warmth of the day or his face heating up. Whatever the case, he shouldn’t be leaving Nagito hanging for an answer.

“Um…” Crap, he should just say it. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d like to… hang out with me? T-Today?” The voice cracks were not helping.

Not even a second later and Nagito is beaming. “Sure, I’d love to. Rarely anyone asks me to hang out with them.”

… Really, after asking him just like that? Well, Hajime isn’t complaining.

—

Mahiru stood up from kneeling behind the bush, wiping the dirt off her knees and smoothing her uniform jacket. “Saw bits and pieces of what was going on,” she began, “I think that went well.” Stretching, she retrieved a clean tissue from her skirt pocket. “Now wipe your forehead. It’s so shiny it looks like you ran a marathon.”

“Haha, is it that obvious?” Dabbing his forehead, Hajime took in a deep breath. “And you thought Nagito would see you at some point. That didn’t happen from what I could see.”

“Of course, I was a decent distance away! I made sure to pop up when he wasn’t looking. Also…” She pointed to his jeans pocket and took out her own phone. “Let me give you Nagito’s number.”

“Wait, you have his number in your contacts?”

“Yeah - we had to work on a group project outside of school hours one time, and we needed a way to contact each other. Nagito didn’t give you his number, did he?”

“No.”

“Mm, must have overlooked it. Anyway… have fun tonight.”

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

[komahinasecretexchange]

Artist: @spaghetti4u

For: @fishmum

Prompt: Kamakura and the Servant interacting in some way (maybe walking around the ruins of Towa City or smthn)

Artist’s notes: I hope you will enjoy your gift! The prompts you gave were very interesting and helped me to study backgrounds which I barely do most of the time (I hope it’s okay). The piece is actually heavily inspired by the cover of the album “What’s happened to Soho” from the Correspondents which are a big Hikoma/Kamukoma mood for me, so I decided to make them a tribute with this art, go check them out if you have time!!)

#kamukoma #komahina secret exchange #fanart

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Silent Courtroom

Author: @redakara

For: @asktheshadowprince

Pairings/Characters: Hinata/Komaeda, mentioned Nanami

Rating/Warnings: Teen/No warnings

Prompt: Amnesia

Author’s notes: Not gone, only forgotten.

The building wasn’t quite moving, rather shifting, half-formed and transparent, completely white like the sky with hot pink outlining where walls should be. The outlining, too, glitched away and reappeared, the verticals and horizontals slowly stretching and receding in a form that loosely resembled a building. A completely uninteresting rectangle with similarly shifting outlines that were some forms of walls, furniture, and pillars.

Geometrical shapes floated innocently throughout it all, as if they were attempting to convince him that the content of this strange place didn’t defy logic’s dictating hands, that it made completely sense for buildings to shift in such a strange manner. Still, logic clung onto him like a leech and boldly insisted that everything here wasn’t right. Maintaining some degree of lucidity, just enough to recognize that this was a strange existence, he watched the nonsensical chaos continue as if it was supposed to happen. He clutched his skateboard.

Even so, the acknowledgement wasn’t enough to pull him out of the irregularity that was this half-dream, half-awake world where he watched the scorchingly bright white cityscape form and deform on repeat, looping until he memorized the patterns and anticipated each movement. How utterly boring.

What he didn’t expect was the complete halt.

The building’s outlines stopped stretching to touch each and make ends meet, the carefree polygons ceased in midair, and the rectangular building attained a new hue- brick red, the glue between the cracked bricks nearly tangible despite his distance from the building. Maybe a kilometer?

A failed attempt to take a step forward proved that his legs didn’t exist in this world, a huge inconvenience along with having no arms or mouth, just sight and hearing. Wind swished undramatically past his ears, masking the ominous echoing footsteps. He only knew someone else was in this world because of the sudden black, almost piercing his eyes.

Though they stood on the distant balcony of the nondescript, dirty brick building, he could feel the scathing glare from them and the sudden jolt ensuing from nearly undetectable, but alarming eye contact.

The person’s long, untangled black hair shifted as they turned slightly to their right in annoyance, leaning their left arm on the banister with a suppressed sigh.

“Clearly, you don’t remember me either.” Their voice was distant, emotionless, and cold, and nearly a whisper, yet completely audible. Laced into their voice was a nearly imperceptible hint of concern, almost as if they cared about his fate.

With a strangled attempt to return the remark with confusion, he realised that he also lacked a mouth.

“I suppose you could call us something like…best friends. Or maybe roommates fits the bill better.” They responded, answering the unasked question completely calmly, as if they knew they hit the nail right on the head and didn’t bother lingering on their incredible intuition. Instead, they simply turned back to their original position, relieving themself of a resting position.

With a loud finger snap, the front of the banister shifted away, and a brick staircase to his position replaced it, and black began infecting the once white areas like an injection, but the ever-present pink remained, holding their positions as outlines. With that, they began their drawn-out decline on the newly formed stairs.

“I am sure that he-…they all are worrying about us. Succeeding such an incident, all of them should be afraid. Perhaps we are the spine of it all.”

Five steps descended, twenty-six left.

“You could call this our vacant room. One of us is out, the other is here. Something is wrong is both of us are here at once. They are awaiting your return, not mine. Go back, Hinata.”

Eleven steps descended, twenty left.

“There’s not enough space in this world for us to meet here simultaneously. I will not disappear if you leave.”

Twenty-two steps descended, nine left.

“I am once again asking for you to leave.”

Twenty-eight steps descended, three left.

The person halted. “You know what will happen if you don’t move.”

He couldn’t move. His legs were gone.

Thirty-one steps descended.

“Very well, then.”

With slow, practiced, and daunting footsteps in his direction, the person suddenly wielded a knife. A voice whispered in his ear. “This world is whatever I wish it to be.”

Without an expression shift, despite claiming to be best friends, they emotionlessly stabbed the knife into his side. The obscene sound of metal piercing organs replayed itself in his head, looping like a catchy rhythm. The audio of the knife divorcing from his body was worse than the original noise, somehow.

“Forced pain. I’m sorry.” They didn’t sound sorry.

“Goodbye.”

He awoke surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Two of them, to be specific. A girl, purple choppy hair and a permanent meek expression carved into her muscles. An androgynous man, shoulder-length curly white hair appearing more brown at the ends like color escaped from his hair. The girl was visibly shocked, the man just teared up with a bright smile. She ran off, calling out an apology and a brief explanation.

“Hajime…” The man let an unfamiliar name slip past his lips. And in an unbelievable flash, the white-haired man was sobbing into his chest, bending in an uncomfortable position from his wooden chair.

“Tsumiki said you..you might never wake up.” Hiccup, sob. “But…I knew you could get through this. I’m so-” He paused once more to rub his eyes, smiling. “-happy.”

“Oh..yeah, that’s, um great!” Was it too rude to push him off after expressing his happiness at his well being? Yes, likely. After such a strangled response, surely he would pull himself off of him, right? Of course, he was right. The beautiful- wait, what- male sat upright in his chair in abrupt fear. If nothing else, he was predictable.

“Oh, is something wrong, Hajime? I’m sorry I touched you, I-” Somehow, he already knew a self-deprecative rant was incoming.

“No, it’s just-”

His sentence cut off when the purple-haired girl walked back in with a file in her hands.

“Hinata! Y-you’re awake now, so, i-if you don’t mind, I just want to ask you s-some things.” She said, clenching a file in her hand. The paper already crunched slightly in her hand. Gentle, indecisive, scared of being too confrontational or confident. Predictable, once more.

He ignored the oncoming chill sourcing from those thoughts.

“Actually, I’d like to ask you something first.”

“Yes, a-anything.”

“Um…well…who am I?”

——————————–

Once Komaeda and Tsumiki (as they had introduced themselves) came down from the sudden shock of his question, Tsumiki handed him a file and left to alert the rest of the island residents. Was it a small community? Did he have many friends?

“Your name is Hinata Hajime. Your blood type is A, you’re one hundred seventy-nine centimeters tall. You weigh sixty-seven kilos and your chest size is ninety-one centimeters.” Komaeda listed off his physical traits in his soothing voice, but even Hinata could hear the hidden panic in his words.

“We seem…close.” Hinata pondered out loud.

“You were my first friend, Haj-…Hinata-kun. Of course we’re close.”

He couldn’t help but to notice that Komaeda kept more distance between them compared to when he first woke up.

The unspoken question hung in the air, but was left unanswered.

“You’re friends with everyone here too. I’m sure they’re dying to see you again.”

An obvious desperate attempt to ditch the conversation, but an attempt that he tried to follow regardless.

——————————–

Imposter is kind. Hanamura is perverted. Koizumi is harsh. Pekoyama is intimidating. Saionji is rude. Mioda is cheerful. Tsumiki is meek. Nidai is strong. Tanaka is…interesting. Komaeda is wonderful. Sonia is not princessy. Owari is hungry. Kuzuryu is strangely comforting. Souda is friendly. Mitarai is wary.

He repeats it to himself, over and over, until names and faces match.

——————————–

Tsumiki still smelled faintly of vanilla, but the pollen had disappeared and replaced itself with the factory aroma of chemical-loaded cleaning supplies. The smell was intoxicating, following her as she tripped over her own feet with a tray of empty syringes. To imagine her intentions with them was nearly terrifying despite her incessant, profuse apologies. As she rearranged the empty shots in size order, he could only feel like he could do better.

A ridiculous fantasy, but one that he couldn’t help but to entertain. Her hands were shaking as she set it down beside his uncomfortable hospital bed. She exclaims another apology as she excuses herself to go grab more supplies.

She was…adequate. She took care of people without expecting an apology or anything in return. He wondered if he, too, could do that.

Even as he sat, helpless in a purely white hospital room, he still had the nerve to think of himself as above her. The quiet voice in his head whispered it like a cacophony, but not in an unfriendly way. A silent reminder. Nothing more.

She returned, nothing but a filled syringe clenched tightly in her left hand, like it would disappear if he loosened her grip even slightly. He let a light sigh tumble from his lips.

How boring.

——————————–

A lone girl sat on a bench in front of a fountain. She sat there, without acknowledging the presence of the spectator. She flicked around a joystick and clicked buttons in perfect harmony, never missing a beat as her face remained placid. The left side of the bench appeared painfully empty when she sat closer to the right. If he closed his eyes hard enough, he could almost feel a similar console in his hands as he sat beside her, clicking the buttons with as much precision and expertise as her professional self.

But the memory was no more than an unattainable fantasy. It dissolved like an uncoated pill if he looked away for even a second. He didn’t sugarcoat it for himself, simply let the memory slip through his fingers.

When she appeared again, it was more painful. A fatal wound leaked onto the ground, drowning her in her own blood. With such wounds, breathing was laborious and even the slightest hopes of living died along with her body.

She already knew she was dead, yet her spirit refused to give up. A faltered attempt to stand on her destroyed feet only proved further that her life was already over. But she still found it in herself to breathe out meaningless words that she thought carried weight.

Her will to keep living meant nothing. She meant nothing. She was boring. She was weak and let herself die. He watched, a voyeur to her pain.

Somehow, he still found himself looting her Galaga hair clip.

Even stranger, he found himself crying, too.

——————————–

Nanami. Nanami Chiaki.

He hated forgetting her, but hated more to remember how he did nothing to save her.

——————————–

Most returning memories centered themselves around Chiaki, but this one was different.

It was Komaeda this time, but not quite Komaeda. His hair was clearly the same, but his mechanical arm was a real arm. But that wasn’t his, either. Long, merciless red nails and a mismatched skin tone gave the impression that it was a woman’s arm. Longing for a forgotten green and red oven mitt only grew at the disgusting sight.

The aforementioned arm fell quickly to his mouth as if he was laughing at him. No noises found their way out, he just kept it in the same spot.

“Isn’t it so disgusting?” Komaeda inquired.

“Rather, impressive that you’ve managed to keep her arm from rotting.” An empty compliment, just for the predictable flush to appear on Komaeda’s face.

Komaeda swatted her hand up and down as if in refusal. “Don’t waste your praise on me, Kamukura-san. I’m just a lowly servant.”

Feelings shifted through him like someone studying the contents of a file cabinet. Still, he remembered feeling nothing but the cold night air.

“Aren’t you cold, Servant?” Kamukura answered nonchalantly. “A metal collar is bound to breed cold, correct? Winter’s solstice is to occur soon.”

Servant’s face went redder, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the embarrassment. “If I was cold, what would you do about it?”

“Bring you back to the children, naturally. I’m rather busy today if you didn’t know.”

“Can’t you humor me just for a bit?”

——————————–

Time proved effective in restoring his memories. The puzzle was far from complete, but the edges were set in place and he began to form a vague picture of the past.

Nobody told him that they, on this island, had assisted in destroying the world in the name of Enoshima Junko. Nobody told him that they, on this island, had entered a program to help restore their hopeful selves where a series of gruesome murders and executions occurred at the hands of Enoshima Junko’s AI- one that another him released into a world meant for hope.

Nobody told him about his relationship with Komaeda.

——————————–

Hinata had asked Komaeda to join him on the second island’s vast library. With the bridge in progress, they ferried themselves over to it in silence. Komaeda was never the type to enjoy meaningless conversations, after all. So they kept to themselves, nervously poking at whatever while trying to get over to the island safely. It’s quiet, but not awkward as they step off the boat in sync.

The walk to the library wasn’t uncomfortable, but awkwardly brushing hands and stuttered apologies in response almost put him under the illusion that it was.

Memories of the past attempted to convince him that it was fine to be close to Komaeda, but it felt wrong when he wasn’t quite that him anymore. So he kept himself in line, stopped himself from impulsively grabbing Komaeda’s hand, and stopped himself from kissing him gently and calling him by his first name- at least until Komaeda was fine with that.

“So…why did you ask me here, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asked, very obviously trying to lace innocence into the undertones.

“I know the truth now.”

Hinata was never the blunt type, but that definitely took the cake in terms of being direct.

“What truth? I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you-”

“I know we were together, Komaeda. I know about us being the Remnants of Despair, and I know about the Neo World Program.”

There, it was out. Komaeda looked incredulous for a moment, but blinked. His eyes weren’t quite so wide anymore. He breathed out a sigh in apparent acceptance.

“It was stupid to think you’d never know, huh?” Hinata could hear the fake smile hidden in his voice, dying the tone a soft shade of red.

“I guess you know now. Surely you’re disgusted, right? To think that you were close to someone like me….I don’t know if I’d be happy, either.”

“No, that’s wrong! I’m…I want to try this again. I might not be exactly the same, but I want to be by your side. If you’d like that, I mean.”

The boy opposite him didn’t say a word, instead took both of his hands in his and smiled. And that was confirmation enough.

——————————–

As long as it took to remember Nanami, Komaeda, and Enoshima, it took longer to remember the strange file resting in the only computer on the island. With a vague name such as PCS as a folder with only two items, two folders with the names “Observers” and “Users”, it left him clueless as to the true nature of whatever the nature of the files were. Nobody else seemed to know either.

Saionji told him to figure it out for herself and continued walking with Koizumi, who said that though the words seemed familiar, she didn’t know quite what they meant.

Owari shrugged and continued eating meat, never giving a conclusive answer. But the confusion in her eyes was enough to see that she didn’t know at all.

So skimming the files within the folder was sufficient at the moment. Two files rested quietly in the observer folders, code destroyed beyond belief. The one called Teacher.exe simply opened to a screen of editable binary, letters half-complete and words irrecoverable. It was nearly impossible to figure out what it was, other than that its name was Usami.

Student.exe was more confusing. Rather than the expected text editor of messy binary, a screen opened but full of missing pixels. A sound played, unidentifiable and sounded like a noise a computer would make. So he closed the files, hoping that whatever was in there remained intact, which it likely would.

The memory rush was like watching a horror movie with a sudden jumpscare. That was Nanami, it was Nanami fucking Chiaki. Her code was nearly unsalvageable, but in just good enough condition to be understood and rewritten. He guessed that, since the computer sat in the room he was told he went to often, he was trying to repair Student.exe or Teacher.exe.

With the Student.exe file nearly cohesive, already starting to be pieced together once more, it was more likely that Student.exe was almost repaired, that maybe they could have Nanami back again.

With that in mind, he let his talents take over.

——————————–

A knock at the door tore him away from the screen. More accurately, two brief knocks that were firm and almost loud, as if their fingers joints alone kissed the door. Groaning as his nearly numb legs carried him over, he opened the door unenthusiastically, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.

Komaeda stood there, hair tied back into a small ponytail, wearing no jacket and pajama pants with his everyday shirt as he walked in without an invitation. He simply smiled, sat beside the chair that Hinata was already returning to, cupped the side of Hinata’s face in his hand, and kissed his cheek tenderly.

“Komaeda, I-”

“Shh…she’d be so happy that you want to bring her back, but I think she’d also tell you that you’re overworking yourself. Come back after you rest.” Komaeda insisted. He wasn’t the insisting type, so Hinata could already taste the desire for him to rest hidden in his words.

“If it makes you happy.”

Hinata stood up, legs slightly less tingly and shaky, and walked away from the computer, not before forgetting to save his progress.

Somewhere, a half-finished program contained in a computer smiled for no reason other than her own happiness.

Student.exe just watched, program left open and let out a small laugh.

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction