Chapter Text
Living in despair was a horrific existence.
Nagito lost count of the days, drifting from place to place, spreading misery and fear wherever he went. It was disgustingly easy for him, had always been, he’d been a walking talking curse for most of his life after all, it was why he clung to hope so strongly, so desperately.
Sometimes he wondered if he wasn’t always fated to become despair, he grew into the role so easily, so quickly, it was like breathing, or dying.
Fuck he wished it was like dying.
He never purposefully, actively inflicted his luck onto any one person, his preferred modus operandi was to slip his way into an unsuspecting crowd and to allow the natural progression of events to occur. Of course the deaths were still on his hands, but none of it was personal.
He supposed he should feel guilty, not working harder to pave the way for hope, but to be honest, his heart wasn’t really in it.
Couldn’t be, could never be, not when his heart was already dead. No, not dead, carved out, stolen along with her, and a gaping, bleeding hole was the only thing that was left.
It was funny, he hadn’t thought he still had anything in there to lose, yet another thing she’d surprised him with.
He’d wandered the country for months, unable to tell just how far he’d gotten when he finally made his way underground, sick of the sky and the polluted air that hurt his already sensitive lungs. Why he hadn’t died already yet from the abuse and the strain was anybody’s guess, including his own. He wished it’d finally happen already, he hadn’t anything left to live for, not anymore, even wanting his death to mean something had started to lose it’s appeal.
There just wasn’t any point, no point at all. He tried and tried and told himself he’d do it right and yet he still fucking failed.
“I don’t think you failed Nagito, it’s only natural that you’d want to be close to somebody, and I pushed you into it in the end…I’m sorry about that.”
Her voice still haunted him, a hallucination, a dream, but one he couldn’t hate no matter how logic told him he should.
“It’s not your fault, I’m the one who gave in inevitably.” He responded to her, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Once again he couldn’t help himself, she was the only bit of light he had left in his nightmare of an existence.
“Still…” She answered, and he saw her as well, hovering along a moss encrusted wall, her eyes concerned as they bored into him. “I wish you wouldn’t hurt all of those people, even if it’s not completely your fault.” She sighed, her expression drooping. “I…feel like I’m the one who failed all of you, that you’re reduced to this.”
He flinched, the words hurt, but then this was just his mind tormenting him, she wasn’t actually there to know what would and wouldn’t hurt, to know how to temper her words with sensitivity. Nagito’s mind was nothing if not merciless.
“No Chi,” He insisted, voice soft and as loving as it always was when with her. “We failed you, we couldn’t save you, I couldn’t stop you, I couldn’t kill her…” He bit out the word, teeth grit like fangs. “If I’d been a bit less self centered and focused on the bigger picture I’d realize what a threat she was, would’ve shot quicker, damn Hajime getting in the way.”
Then he stopped, sharp pain shooting in his chest, his eyes squeezing shut tight.
“…That wasn’t Hajime, and you know that.” Came her words. Soft. Accusatory.
“….No….no it wasn’t…” He admitted, tears falling down his cheeks. Familiar. Irritating. He couldn’t stop them either way.
“…I should’ve never left either of you alone.” He admitted softly to himself, it didn’t matter, she’d hear him no matter what.
If he hadn’t left…if he hadn’t been so stupid…he wouldn’t have lost both of them.
Wouldn’t he? Would’ve he? Wasn’t he part of the reason Hajime made his choice…?
Would he have made any difference at all?
“Hey, Nagito…where are we going anyway?” Her words softly asked, so realistic, so lifelike, but he knew she was just an echo, a memory, something to make his day to day a little more bearable.
His eyes gazed listlessly into the darkness, along rail lines that barely functioned, their power still sparking and dangerous but he still walked along irreguardless, dark tunnels dusty and rotting away with disuse, voices echoing along the distance from survivors, people retreating from the polluted air and darkened skies…they’d meet their end in these tunnels soon.
He was death, living and breathing, misfortune on two legs, he’d kill them all whether he wanted to or not.
“…I don’t know anymore.” He admitted, before dragging his still living corpse forward, inevitable undoing trailing in his wake.
He ignored her puffed up cheeks, pouting at him as she always did whenever he got particularly morose, only watching as he dragged himself past her illusory self.
“…You’re so dramatic sometimes.” She grumbled.
He smiled, either way.
Confusion was what caused him to finally seek daylight again. Confusion and a lack of pain in his lungs. Air, crisp and clean, and voices, so many, too many to be pockets of survivors or delusional cultists, both drove him to seek out the branching tunnel, moving from debilitating disrepair to something more tended to, and eventually…
To sunlight.
People, people, so many people greeted his sight. People going about their daily lives, people living, people looking, mostly ignoring but he quickly ducked his way out of sight lest someone call the police on him, or whatever functioned as such in this place.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?” He couldn’t help but ask himself, looking quickly down-he still wore his old shirt, torn and ripped and filthy, his blazer having been stolen by somebody long ago…he’d gained a jacket to replace it, but overall he looked like a homeless bum-which-well…considering his living situation wasn’t completely inaccurate.
He knew the others had found themselves accommodations, but he hadn’t truly bothered. It just meant he was one of the more unpredictable ones, and anyway, who had a home in this day and age?
Apparently all the people in this city.
It was so strange, so interesting, he held himself as he swayed and shook over the implications.
Why, oh why had Enoshima’s influence missed this little pocket…?
“Why indeed…?” He asked, wide grin curling his lips, wide and wild eyes glancing back at the crowd. Was it his luck to be the first despair to ruin this place? Just him ending up here was an ill omen…what sort of hell was his presence going to bring…?
“Nagito, you’ve got a scary expression on your face…” Came her voice, soft, insistent, trying to break through his frantic mind. “You aren’t going to do anything terrible, are you? You don’t actually want to…not really.”
He ignored her, holding himself tight, nails digging into his arms until they started to bleed. “Just how is their hope going to overcome this predicament? Now that I’ve come, living curse that I am. Haha…to have survived this long, they must be something special. Who, or what is protecting them I wonder~?” He giggled, breathy voice wheezing softly as he glanced up, looking for the core of the city.
A large building dominated the distance, placed on a hill, perhaps….
“Is this hope, or a corrupted core?” He asked himself, smirk on his lips as he turned to fully face the building, a hand bracing against a wall. “How will you fare against my luck? Hopefully it ends well for you…”
She pressed against him, and though he felt nothing his mind gave him an illusion of warmth where her body would be. “Please, at least try to fight it a little. It doesn’t have to be like this Nagito.” She begged, though her voice didn’t hold any sort of conviction, sorrow staining the words and taking the heat from them.
She’d tried so many times before and always failed, it only further proved to him that he was no longer human.
Hopefully here, someone would finally kill him.
Towa City, he eventually learned was the name of the place he’d found himself. Towa Hills was the name of the building he worked himself towards. Nobody noticed him, nobody stopped him, they just ignored him, though surely they should’ve been more wary of who came out from the tunnels under their bridge. They should’ve known of the Tragedy, should’ve realized…but no. He wasn’t the first, nor would he be the last, of a long line of asylum seekers looking for shelter in a city untouched, Towa had done much to make this city a safe haven.
Towa, he was coming to find, was an idealistic idiot. Or perhaps a greedy one, he couldn’t yet tell.
Either way Towa was likely going to die, now that he had come to reside, it was only a matter of time, or how long it took for him to drag his sorry carcass up to those self important hills.
Only…he didn’t get the chance to finish the journey.
He’d only turned a corner, just one little innocuous corner, and the most surreal thing he could ever imagine stood in front of him.
Junko Enoshima was weeding a garden.
He blinked, shocked, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. Enoshima, miss despair herself, weeding a garden.
Weeding a garden. Domestic as could be. In front of an unassuming perfectly suburban house, complete with a fence-! The brains of the despair sisters, terror of the Tragedy, the gods damned Mastermind of the entire thing!
Weeding! A! Garden!
He let out a harsh breath, a laugh following that, his hand reaching towards his belt. “Haha…what a lucky break!”
“Hmm?” Junko glanced up at his words, then gave a bright grin, just as he started to draw a knife. “Oh, hi!”
Only for that knife to freeze just inches away from her throat, his hand shaking, trembling as he pressed it to her jugular, the blade just brushing against her skin, but no further.
“…senpai.” She purred, grinning a satisfied grin, idly fingering the metal of the blade. “Wow, first glance in months and already you’re tryin’ to cut me up! Did you miss me that much~” Condescendingly she patted his cheek. “And how’s despair treating you? Not good?” She tutted as he glared. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you’re the idiots who fell for my trap!”
“But of course, you’re the one most aware of that…aren’t you?”
He had no answer for her, just stared at her with hot fire that burned in his gut. Of course. Of fucking course she’d put in some sort of failsafe-something that worked the same way this fucking need to kill and destroy was etched inside his brain. He couldn’t kill her. Of course he couldn’t kill her, no matter how badly he wanted to. Needed to.
She wasn’t that stupid, even if she acted like it at times.
“Hum, I guess this is a bit too easy.” She pouted, seeming to think along the same lines he did, only with fresh disappointment rather that his frustration. Then she smirked. “But that look on your face is totally worth it! C’mon Nageets, how long has it been? Whatcha been up to? Didn’t I hear you were livin’ in a sewer lately?”
“…why haven’t you destroyed this place yet?” He found himself asking, in between all her poking and incessant prodding.
“Hhmmmmmm? You really wanna know?” She hummed, tilting her head and starring at him with wide, eerily focused eyes.
“It doesn’t fit.” He found himself going on, voicing his thoughts to her, his gaze flickering towards the house and the yard. “Why live here of all places? Why keep it untouched?” He narrowed his eyes. “There’s something in the house that you’re working on, isn’t there? Something you’ve kept from the rest of us.”
Junko scoffed. “Pssh, there’s tons of shit I’ve been keeping from you guys, don’t think you’re so special.” She said, lifting a finger to poke his nose with her nail. She then tapped her chin, a slow smile growing on her face. “Though…you aren’t technically wrong. Hmm, if you’re sure you wanna know about it, then…maybe…”
Then she grinned, one of those wide, terrifying grins that spelled nothing good. “Oh, I’ve got an idea…”
Then she grabbed him, hands like talons gripping tight to the front of his shirt, scratching at his skin and leaving marks, half strangling him as she pulled him past the yard and through the front door. He only had time to glimpse at the front entranceway before she yanked him through another door, before practically throwing him into a kitchen chair, his body half hanging off it before she slammed herself into his lap, chest facing his.
She had his knife (when had she grabbed it???) and angled the blade against his neck, so he was forced to lift his chin to meet her eyes.
“Y’know, I think we should rethink your current assignment of ‘half living corpse rotting his way in the metro.’ Rebrand you a bit.” She hummed, idly shifting the metal so it gleamed in the light.
“Am I getting new clothes alongside this ‘rebranding’?” He asked, voice dry, defeat in his shoulders and spine. He couldn’t kill her, he couldn’t defy her, he was already caught up in her game, honestly he just hoped she decided to kill him eventually. He stared listlessly at the wall, letting her do what she wanted for the moment.
Hopefully his luck would give him another opportunity, if not for her death than to at least mildly inconvenience her.
“You think I’d waist money and resources on your useless ass?” She scoffed, making a small nick on his neck, making him hiss and oddly centering him a bit. “Puh-leez! No, I’m thinkin’ more like a new job, since you seem to be doing jack shit compared to the rest.”
He shut his eyes, letting out a sigh. “My apologies on failing at being a terrorist.” He drawled. “I wasn’t aware that killing dozens of people at once in an incident of mismanaged construction wasn’t up to your standards.”
“You have no personality in your work, no passion! It’s just the same borin’ schtick.” She huffed, flicking the knife along his cheek and giving him another knick. “And then you spend months in the sewers-! Honestly Nagi,” She sighed, then leaned back, hands at her hips as she shook her head. “It feels like your soul ain’t in the job! I mean, I know despair is the point, but, you aren’t any fun! Why’re you half assin’ it?”
He glanced at her briefly, then looked away. “Maybe because the work is grotesque?”
“Bullshit.” She scoffed, scowling. “You were all gung ho at the start, dronin’ on about ‘hope rising from the depths of despair’ and all that bullcrap. I thought you were excited to get on board with this project! What gives?”
If possible he slumped more. “I don’t know Junko.” He sighed, his eyes idly starring at the door on the opposite wall. “Maybe I’m just having a case of conscience.”
Chiaki’s illusion starred at him back, giving him a look filled with pity.
Junko crossed her arms. “Well that’s a load of crap, you didn’t have a lick of that even before I got into your head. I mean-!” she chuckled, hand rising to rub her forehead. “You tried to shoot me for christ’s sake! And I hadn’t even done shit yet! What kinda whackadoo just tries to off somebody based on a hunch???”
Nagito opened his mouth to retort, only to pause as the door he was looking at started to open, a person coming into the kitchen through it.
Not just a person, a child.
A little boy in a dusty mask and overgrown shirt.
“Um….uh….big sis…? Who’s that man you’re sittin’ on…?” The boy asked, Nagito’s eyes widening as his mind raced. He didn’t look older than gradeschool age, maybe third…? Fourth…? He was so small and he was with Junko Enoshima…?
“Hmm?” Junko turned, knife twirling in her fingers as she gave the kid a grin. “Oh, Jataro! Perfect timing!” She turned to Nagito again, her unsettling grin coming back in full. “I thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink, it’d be best if you guys got yourselves a new babysitter!”
“Why do you have a child?” Nagito asked, his mind pure static, thoughts racing and buzzing and unintelligible beyond that single, slightly panicked question.
She smirked at him instead of answering, getting up off his lap, his knife jabbed into her belt before she turned toward the boy. “What do you think, Jataro? I know he looks pathetic, but he’ll get the job done while I’m away, if he knows what’s good for him.” She glanced back at him, while the boy gave him a frown, a nervous look on his face.
“I-I dunno…he looks weird…are people supposed to be that pale?” Jataro asked. “A-and you said that…that…” Jataro turned back to Junko, his hands covering the lower half of his face. “You said that we couldn’t trust anyone else…Junko was the only one that was safe, right?” He whispered, though not quiet enough.
“Enoshima, why do you have a child?” Nagito asked again, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. Bad enough she used them for her plans, but children-? “Where did you find him? Where did you take him from?”
Children hadn’t…fared well in the Tragedy. Funny side effect that occurred when their parents all fell into despair, or if not their parents, then their neighbors. Their teachers. All the adults around them, the ones that should’ve protected them, instead giving into their worst urges…
At the very least he hadn’t had to see himself kill children. He didn’t know what he would do if he had. He didn’t even know if he was even capable, messed up as he was.
He’d always sort of…he’d always wished…never would’ve been a good idea, but… but…!
Junko’s grin only grew wider. “Hey, don’t worry!” She crooned, before lifting a finger in front of Jataro’s face. “I promise, this demon isn’t going to hurt you.”
Demon…?
“See for yourself!”
Then she picked up Jataro by the waist, lifted him like he weighed nothing and flung him as hard as she could at the kitchen table.
He reacted on instinct, not even thinking as he flung himself from the chair and used his body to catch the boy in his arms. He was lucky she’d thrown the boy in his direction. He was lucky the table hadn’t any sharp implements laying on it’s surface. He was lucky that he didn’t break the table, as he sensed it’d be taken out of his hide.
But that wasn’t nearly as important to him at that moment, as he quickly looked over the boy in his arms, checking for any injuries, and ignoring the wide eye’d frozen look of terror on what little he could see of his face.
He was lucky, most of all, that the child was okay.
For fucking once.
“There, see? He saved you! Just like I promised.” Junko, uncaring and heedless of the red hot glare Nagito shot her way said, as she reached over to give the boy a pat on the head. Jataro said nothing, just sat motionless, still in Nagito’s arms, like he was in a state of shock.
Nagito chose not to think too deeply on that, instead resisting the urge to pull the boy as far away from Junko as fast as he could, knowing it’d be a futile effort, especially with the picture he was currently piecing together.
He felt sick.
“So senpai,” She purred to him, smug grin on her face, like she knew she’d already won. “What do you say? Wanna raise these adorable brats with me?”
Brats…? There was more than one? Nagito pursed his lips into a thin line, but eventually, reluctantly, he gave in.
“Very well then Enoshima.” He conceded, bowing his head before her, curling his lanky form overtop Jataro, his arm cradling around the boy’s back. “It seems I have little choice in the matter.”
Junko scoffed, but grinned, showing teeth. “Welcome to the team then, big bro.”