Chapter Text
It wasn’t triggered by anything in particular. It was a reasonably normal morning; as normal as a morning after convicting a classmate of murder and condemning them to death could be, anyway. Monomi had come to inform them that she’d opened up a new island to them, as she had before, and they’d split up to search the new area thoroughly. It was all becoming an unsettling routine at this point.
It started as nothing more than an irritation in the back of his throat. He immediately attributed it to the dusty, stale air in the long-abandoned movie theater, and pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. It persisted, though, and no amount of clearing his throat could make it go away. He coughed into his hand, wincing as his chest tightened uncomfortably.
He slowly lowered his hand. Sitting on his palm was a single flower petal. After staring at it blankly for a few moments, he laughed so hard he coughed up two more.
“Yippee! Looks like we have our next motive!” Monokuma announced excitedly, popping up out of nowhere as he often did. “I can’t believe that actually came in handy.”
“Hm?” Nagito asked, still staring at his hand distractedly. The petals were a deep purple.
“It’s a backup motive I implemented just in case, but I gotta say, I didn’t actually expect any of you to fall in love in a situation like this,” Monokuma continued joyfully. “And not only that, but intense, passionate, unrequited love! This’ll do wonders for the ratings.”
Nagito raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at the ever-present security camera staring him down.
Monokuma snickered. “That was a joke! What kind of monster would stream a killing game live on television? Puhuhu,” he said darkly. “Anyway, are you going to deliver the motive, or shall I? I’ll give you the choice, out of the kindness of my heart. Since you’re slowly dying and all.”
Nagito’s head was spinning. “Ah…” he said, crushing his hand into a fist and stuffing the petals into his jacket pocket. “Wouldn’t it be better not to tell anyone just yet?”
Monokuma sighed dramatically. “Better for you maybe. But what’s the point of a motive if no one knows about it?” he pointed out. “Well, I guess that’s your answer then. See you, lover boy!”
“Wait,” Nagito said before the bear had a chance to disappear, trying not to seem overeager. Monokuma paused. “I think that keeping it a secret might make it even more effective. After all, it’s a slow-acting disease, right? The sooner they find out, the longer that person has to fall in love with me and save my life. It would be a shame to put such a lovely motive to waste, don’t you think?”
“That would be anticlimactic,” Monokuma agreed thoughtfully. “Luckily for me, you’re the one who contracted the disease! The odds of someone falling in love with you are nothing for me to break a sweat over.”
Nagito laughed loudly. “Haha, yes, I agree!” he said cheerfully. “Which brings me to my next point! I might be planning to kill them, you know. Like you said, the chances of them falling for useless garbage like me are less than none, so the only way to save myself would be to get rid of them, right? But if you announce the motive, they’ll probably all expect that from me, and be on their guard. They’d probably even chain me up again! You wouldn’t want to discourage a potential murder, would you?”
Monokuma paused in thought for a long time, facing away from Nagito and standing so still the boy thought he may have malfunctioned. Finally, he spun back around. “You’ve convinced me!” he announced brightly. “Fine, I won’t tell them for now. It’s not like you’ll be able to hide it for very long, anyway.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Nagito said thoughtfully. “Well, I’m positive good luck will come out of this, so don’t worry.” Monokuma waved him off.
“You better not disappoint me! You’re dying, after all, so you better make sure you go out with a BANG!” Monokuma said, before disappearing before his eyes.
Nagito stood alone in the theater for a long time, deep in thought. It wasn’t until the evening announcement rang throughout the empty building that he snapped out of it and walked back to his cottage alone, his fingers brushing thoughtfully over the petals in his pocket as he walked.
—
Hanahaki Disease.
He’d heard of it before, obviously. It was rare, so rare that many even thought that it was nothing more than an urban legend. Nagito had never thought much about it, and he’d certainly never considered the possibility that he’d contract it. After all, he’d long ago accepted the fact that requited love was something he could never have. He didn’t even long for it, really; he loved truly and deeply, and he didn’t care whether or not it was returned. He loved everyone on the island, and everyone else who had the talent to create a hope powerful enough overcome all despair. That was enough to sustain him.
Apparently, however, his body had decided one of those loves in particular was one that he needed to be returned. It had decided that it was either that or death.
Nagito clutched at his hair in frustration. Where was the hope in that? Slowly dying a painful, pitiful death, all because he still subconsciously believed that useless trash like himself deserved to be loved. A death like that wouldn’t move anyone forward. It would just be a pathetic waste.
What horrible luck. Well, all that meant was that there was good luck waiting for him on the horizon.
He pulled his notebook out from under his bed and quickly scribbled down the names of everyone on the island, sans Togami, Hanamura, Koizumi, and Pekoyama. He immediately crossed out Sonia, Nanami, Mioda, Tsumiki, and Souda without a second thought.
That left him with seven options. Nidai and Owari were both strong contenders, due to their physical prowess, but he didn’t think either of them had the mental capacity to carry out a plan as complex as this one would have to be. He crossed them off. Saionji certainly had the necessary malice to commit murder, but she was a terrible liar, and her attitude would make her difficult to convince in the first place. Cross. Tanaka was too unpredictable. Cross. Kuzuryuu was still hospitalized. Cross.
He stared down at the page. There was only one name left, glaring at him like a taunt.
He sighed deeply. Maybe his problem all along was that he’d been putting too much effort into convincing Hajime, and not enough into other possible candidates. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. Maybe it was because out of everyone, he was the only one who seemed to at least try to genuinely hear what Nagito had to say. Usually their conversations ended with him getting irritated and storming off, sure, but… it was like he was trying to understand. Nagito wasn’t used to that.
Maybe he just wanted to die by Hajime’s hand.
He scribbled out the last name with a bit more force than necessary, going back through the list again, this time with lower standards.
He made his decision and headed to the hospital.
—
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Nagito smiled brightly. “Not at all, Kuzuryuu-kun! I’m completely serious!” he said enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, you can leave all the planning to me, you’ll hardly have to do anything! Besides the killing me part, of course. But it wouldn’t be your first time, so does that really matter?”
Fuyuhiko glowered at him. “Get the hell away from me,” he muttered. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m fucking holed up in a hospital bed at the moment. I’m not in the position to be killing anyone even if I did want to.”
Nagito’s eyes brightened. “But that’s what makes it so perfect!” he explained. “No one would ever suspect you because of your condition! Don’t you see, it’s because of your situation that I need your help, in order to create the strongest, most powerful hope imaginable—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Fuyuhiko interrupted darkly. “No. Now fuck off.”
Nagito sighed, kicking at the tiles beneath his feet dejectedly. “What a shame,” he muttered. “And to think, Pekoyama-san gave her life to free you from this island, and you won’t even take advantage of this second chance she’s given you…”
Fuyuhiko sat up abruptly, his eyes burning. “Shut the fuck up, you bastard. If you ever say her name again, I’ll fucking kill y—” he stopped abruptly, wincing as Nagito’s face lit up. “I’ll break every bone in your body. Now go away. Jesus, I don’t know how Hinata puts up with you for more than five minutes at a time.”
At those words, Nagito almost immediately felt a tightening in his chest and an itch at the back of his throat. He coughed violently, nearly keeling over as he did so, and grabbed onto the wall as he stared down at the five or six purple petals in his hand dizzily.
Fuyuhiko stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell…?” he muttered.
Nagito grimaced, before shoving his hand in his pocket and laughing jovially. “Sorry for showing you something so unsightly! I’ll be going now!” he said with an enthusiastic wave.
“Hey, hold on, you bastard,” Fuyuhiko said, his tone low and serious. Nagito paused. “How long have you had fucking hanahaki?”
Nagito was quiet for several beats. “Hanahaki? Ahaha, you mean that fictional disease?” he asked casually. “I just have a bit of a cold, no need to waste your energy worrying about someone as worthless as me!”
Fuyuhiko glared at him. “Shut up, dumbass, I just watched you cough up fucking flower petals,” he snapped. “And I know for a fact it’s not fictional.”
That peaked Nagito’s interest. “Oh? How so?”
“Because I had it too,” Fuyuhiko said bluntly.
Nagito paused for a long time, allowing that information to slowly process. “Pekoyama-san?” he finally replied curiously.
Fuyuhiko grimaced, glaring down at his hands. “When I woke up on this island, it was gone. My lungs were clear for the first time in months. I know I couldn’t have gotten the surgery, because I still…” he said, trailing off and squeezing his eyes shut. He cursed under his breath. “I’m alive, so that only leaves one other option. And I don’t even fucking remember it. I’ll never forgive whoever’s behind this shit.”
Nagito was quiet. “How utterly hopeless,” he muttered under his breath. He was annoyed. Everything about this disease was ridiculously, completely hopeless. Fuyuhiko glanced at him, his expression notably less aggressive than before.
“Who is it?” he asked. Nagito laughed.
“That’s a secret I plan on taking to my grave, Kuzuryuu-kun,” he replied simply.
“The hell do you mean? It’s not like anyone on this island can perform surgery, you only really have one option here,” Fuyuhiko pointed out. Nagito felt a light bulb go off, and he smiled widely.
“That’s right!” he agreed. “I only have one option. I’m going to die from this disease, and it won’t be of benefit to anyone. But if you kill me, it’ll mean something, either for you or everyone else. Don’t you think that’s a better scenario?”
Fuyuhiko stared at him for a long time, his expression somewhere between concerned and thoroughly disturbed. “Hey… hold on a sec,” he said, holding his head in his hand like he was trying to process the information. “You’re joking, right? You’re just gonna give up and die without even trying?”
“Trying?” Nagito asked blankly.
“Yes, dumbass!” Fuyuhiko snapped. “I obviously mean that you should at least try to get whoever you’re in love with to love you back before you just kick the bucket!”
Nagito stared at him for a few beats, before chuckling darkly under his breath. “That’s impossible,” he said seriously. Fuyuhiko shuffled awkwardly.
“Oh, come on, I mean… yeah, you’re fucking crazy and weird as hell, but I wouldn’t say it’s impossible…”
Nagito smiled. “My undesirable nature aside, it’s impossible,” he clarified cheerfully. “Anyway, just think seriously about my offer, okay? I’m looking forward to working with you Kuzuryuu-kun!”
Fuyuhiko sighed irritably and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Get out of here,” he said, waving him off. He paused. “And change your fucking attitude. I’m not just gonna stand by and let you give up and die like a coward.”
“Haha, noted,” Nagito said without a hint of concern, waving over his shoulder as he took his leave. He discarded the flower petals into the garbage can on his way out.
—
He and Hajime Hinata were not friends.
Nagito knew, if Hajime were asked, he would agree with that sentiment. Not that Nagito minded. He was used to this, people not understanding him and being repulsed by him as a result. It didn’t matter, in the end, his pursuit of hope was too important to give up even if it meant being alone. That was something he’d figured out a long time ago.
It was a bit of a shame, though. He figured if anyone would be able to understand him eventually, it would be Hajime. Or maybe, rather, that’s what he’d hoped for. There was something about Hajime Hinata that he was particularly fond of, more so than the obvious fondness he generally felt for all of his talented classmates. He was… special. Nagito couldn’t really explain why, but that was how he felt.
They weren’t friends, though. However, that didn’t stop Hajime from spending time with him. Nagito found it overwhelmingly confusing when the other boy would often ask him to hang out with no clear ulterior motive. They would just walk around together and converse pointlessly, and even though Hajime was quick to get irritated or distressed over the things Nagito had to say, he would always listen. Nagito thought it was fair that Hajime didn’t understand him, because the reverse was also true. He didn’t get Hajime Hinata at all.
“You’re being weird lately,” Hajime pointed out as he sat with his back against a bookshelf, watching Nagito slowly disappear behind the pile of books he was surrounding himself with. “Are you up to something?”
Nagito chuckled under his breath, dragging his finger down the table of contents of the book in his lap. “Always, Hinata-kun,” he said simply. “I can’t say I know what you mean, though. I’ve been acting the same as usual.”
Hajime shook his head. “You haven’t been following me around and trying to convince me to kill you,” he said dryly. “And you’ve been… I don’t know, quieter. Like you’re hiding something.”
“Wow, you must pay a lot of attention to me!” Nagito replied brightly. “I didn’t realize you would miss me trying to convince you to kill me so much, Hinata-kun, my apologies. But you know the offer is always on the table!”
Hajime sighed deeply. “I have to pay attention to you,” he said tiredly. “You don’t give me much of a choice.” Nagito laughed.
“Well if you got rid of me, you wouldn’t have that burden anymore,” he suggested brightly. Hajime scowled.
“…Forget it,” he said tiredly. He rested his head on his hand and eyed Nagito’s stack of books. “What are you looking for, anyway?”
Nagito hesitated, before reaching into his pocket and laying a purple petal down on the floor between them. “I’m trying to identify what kind of flower this belongs to,” he said. He paused. “I was walking and it blew into my hair.”
Hajime gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you that bored?” he asked. Nagito chuckled.
“When you have luck like mine, everything has meaning,” he explained. Hajime didn’t look convinced, but regardless, he grabbed one of the botany books in the pile and began flipping through.
They read in silence for the better part of an hour, before Hajime suddenly laid down a book in front of him and placed the petal on the page for comparison. “This has gotta be it, right?” he asked. “It’s got the same heart-shaped petals.”
Nagito glanced scrutinized the picture carefully. “Hm… maybe,” he agreed with a nod. “What does it say?”
Hajime picked the book back up and ran his finger down the page. “Morning glory,” he read. “Apparently it means… unrequited love, mortality of life, or love in vain.”
Nagito was quiet for several beats, before snorting with laughter. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Yeah, that’s probably it.” Hajime rubbed the back of his neck.
“That’s… depressing,” he said. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. With the situation we’re in, I doubt you’re gonna have to worry about relationship issues.”
Nagito chuckled. “One would think,” he said.
—
Fuyuhiko was back on his feet much sooner than Mikan’s medical advice suggested, much to Nagito’s disappointment. Well, there went the opportunity to use his condition to their advantage. What terrible luck.
The morning of his return, Fuyuhiko took the seat across from him at breakfast without a word. Nagito glanced over at the variety of other open seats along the table. “Did you need something, Kuzuryuu-kun?” he asked, absentmindedly mutilating his sausage with his butter knife. Fuyuhiko kicked back in his seat and shrugged.
“I’m just sitting. Am I allowed?” he challenged. Nagito chuckled.
“Of course. I’m afraid I’m not much good for conversation, though.”
“Hm. You seemed to have a lot to say when you were visiting me at the hospital,” Fuyuhiko pointed out, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it casually.
Nagito hummed. “On that note, I see you’ve decided to reject my offer,” he said sadly. “That’s a shame, Kuzuryuu-kun. I think we could’ve worked well together.”
Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes. “That’s right, so can you stop with that shit now?” he grumbled. Nagito laughed brightly.
“Of course not! I’ll just have to convince someone else,” he said confidently. “Hope will prevail in the end, no matter what. I know it.”
Fuyuhiko took a bite of his banana and deadpanned at him. “Right. Good luck with that,” he said. He paused, before pushing the bowl of applesauce he’d had along with his plate toward Nagito. “I know you feel like shit and eating seems repulsive right now, but soft food goes down easier. Not eating just makes it worse.”
Nagito blinked at him, but Fuyuhiko finished his banana and left before he had a chance to respond. It was true, food had become incredibly unappealing lately due to the constant, nauseating pressure in his chest and throat. He supposed Fuyuhiko would know that from experience.
Around lunch time, Fuyuhiko approached him for the second time that day, suddenly appearing and falling into step beside him as he made his way toward the library. Nagito narrowed his eyes.
“Hello again, Kuzuryuu-kun!” he said brightly, despite the irritation he was feeling. “Don’t tell me… could it be that you’re reconsidering?”
“What? Shut up,” Fuyuhiko replied with a roll of his… eye. “I just happen to be walking this way too.”
How annoying. He knew exactly what this was about, and he was beginning to greatly regret telling Fuyuhiko about his condition. Not that he’d done so intentionally. Still, he should count himself lucky that someone like Fuyuhiko would even bother being in the presence of someone like him, so he stayed silent.
“So, how far along is it?”
“Hm?”
“You know what I mean, dumbass. The hanahaki.”
Nagito sighed deeply. “It’s been about a week,” he said with a shrug. Fuyuhiko nodded thoughtfully.
“Good, you still got plenty of time then,” he said. “The sooner the better, though, once the fevers start it’s hell on earth. Not to mention breathing just gets harder and harder, and you’re gonna be puking up flowers every ten minutes…”
Nagito grimaced. He didn’t want to hear this. “I appreciate the concern, Kuzuryuu-kun!” he said. “You’re right, the sooner I get someone to kill me the better.” Fuyuhiko glowered at him.
“No, asshole, I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Nagito said coldly, his demeanor changing entirely. “But it’s funny, I thought I already told you curing the disease was impossible? Haha, my memory must be failing me!”
Fuyuhiko suddenly moved to step in front of him, his face twisted into a scowl. Nagito came to an abrupt stop. “Stop fucking brushing this off like it’s nothing, you bastard,” he growled. “I’ve been through it too, remember? I know how fucking awful it is. As if being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back doesn’t suck enough, suddenly you start dying from it… it’s such bullshit.”
Nagito chuckled under his breath. “Well, it’s my fault in the first place,” he said. “Only someone as useless as me would fall in love, knowing full well that no one could ever—”
“That’s enough of that self-degrading crap. You’re starting to piss me off,” Fuyuhiko snapped, cutting him off. “Listen up. I’m going to figure out who you’re in love with and get them to love you back even if I have to threaten them into it. Got it?”
It was rare for Nagito to be taken off guard, but he admittedly faltered at those words. He was quick to recover, however, and he laughed lightheartedly. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to waste your time and energy on something so pointless,” he said. “After all, you should be using your talent to create hope, not—”
“Anyway, if you’re not gonna tell me who it is, I’m gonna have to guess,” Fuyuhiko mused, cutting Nagito off once again. “It’s probably not Saionji or Mioda, right? Sonia and Tsumiki are super hot, but probably not your type… Nanami, maybe?”
Nagito stared at him with the flattest, most unamused look he could muster. Fuyuhiko stared back, unyielding and equally expressionless. They remained like that for several moments, until Fuyuhiko finally blushed and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not a girl, is it,” he said, more statement than question. Nagito remained silent. “Yeah, I kind of suspected, but I didn’t want to just assume…”
Nagito began seriously considering changing his plans, and murdering Fuyuhiko instead of the other way around. Sure, an Ultimate would be a much greater sacrifice than a useless waste of space like himself, but it would do the job of instilling hope in everyone either way, right? The only problem was that he would immediately be on the top of everyone’s suspect list. He would have to do a good job at framing someone…
“It’s you,” Nagito finally replied, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “I’m in love with you. Now that you know, are you going to make yourself fall in love with me? Would you be able to do that?”
Fuyuhiko blinked, before grimacing. “You’re fucking with me,” he said flatly. Nagito shrugged, and Fuyuhiko sighed deeply. “If you were serious, though… I guess I’d have to try.”
Nagito paused, before laughing loudly. “It seems the scary yakuza who was capable of killing everyone on this island really was an act,” he mused. “To think that someone like you would force yourself to care about someone as disgusting as me just to save my life, my heart is fluttering just thinking of it! Be careful, I might really fall in love with you!”
Fuyuhiko frowned and stopped his interrogation, clearly realizing this line of questioning was going nowhere. After a few moments, he glanced over at Nagito with a deeply serious expression. “Do you really wanna die that badly?”
Nagito had to take a moment to consider his answer to that. He certainly didn’t see much value in living, but wanting to die was a bit of a stretch. He just… “I just want to give people hope,” he concluded simply. “But let me make one thing clear, I don’t want to die from this disease. I refuse to, in fact.”
“So you’d rather be murdered?”
“That’s right! Now you’re getting it.”
Fuyuhiko grimaced and shook his head. “You’re pretty fucked up, you know that?” he muttered. Nagito laughed.
“No, no one's ever told me that before,” he replied brightly.