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The last days at the so-called funhouse had been torture for everyone. Especially for Hajime. Although he already had an experience with day-long periods of not eating, this was the first time he had gone fasting for so long. Surely, he could go for one or two days without food, he’d done it countless times before, but he had already fasted the day before being trapped with the others and his body was begging, screaming to him that it was time to eat something again.
When that annoying bear mentioned that they wouldn’t have access to a single piece of food unless someone committed yet another murder, he could feel his stomach sinking. He had made the mistake of hoping for that previous trial to be the last, of hoping they could finally find some peace amongst the chaos. It became obvious it was idiotic to hope for anything anymore.
Still, he couldn’t deny it, the fact that the mention of forced starvation caused a momentary spark of joy inside him despite the circumstances they were trapped in. It made him remember the excitement he felt every time his stomach grumbled was more than enough to give him the energy he needed, even if it was just for a moment. The weakness and dizziness that came with the underfeeding were a much-desired feeling that Hajime could only wish to experience once in a while with so many people watching him at the moment of eating. For now, he had to stick to damaging his teeth with purging if he wanted to avoid feeling like a disgusting, ravenous animal with no sense of self-control after every instance of sharing a meal with those stuck with him.
Sometimes he wondered what even was the point of it; why he was doing this to himself. He knew that his physical complexion was not so different from that of his classmates, and his weight was pretty healthy even. But then again, disorders aren’t always rational, and the feeling of disgust Hajime felt every time he looked at himself was something impossible to dismiss.
It made him want to hurt himself.
Of course, he had already gone through troublesome moments of self-injury. Those instances had left permanent marks all over the now-damaged skin on his shoulders and thighs. For now, he had convinced himself he was over that at least, although it was also unmistaken to say that he had only changed the way of inflicting damage.
He saw himself as worthless. Someone so inferior to those he admired that he could barely call himself human in his worst moments. He could only wish to be the shadow of those above him, and the only way in which he thought he could be any different from the rest of the people was becoming sick enough to stand out.
It was a fact he had always felt inferior to the rest, and now his feelings of doubt about himself had been confirmed by Komaeda.
A reserve course student, that’s what he called him.
To think he had even considered the possibility of being acknowledged as an ultimate by his peers. Could he even call them that now that he knew he was so different from them? It felt wrong to even be around them after discovering the truth. Now they were all sharing a meal that the girls had cooked for the remaining students to recover their strength after their prolonged, involuntary fasting. But was he even worthy of it? Could he have a single bite without feeling the guilt of wasting the hard work of his “classmates”? The answer to that was simple enough. He wished everything could be as simple as that.
With every bite, he knew he would feel his stomach getting fuller, heavier. Hajime also knew perfectly well this was in no way the place or the time to feel like this, but still, the spiral of thoughts came to him like a flood. He was average. So average in fact it hurt. At least ever since he discovered that he could make a change, his body was the only thing he believed to be at least slightly different.
He did know his weight had fluctuated between a few pounds extra and the “usual” for his height and age, at least he could try to feel better by telling himself that was not so common. That was until he decided to take the extreme decision of trying diet after diet and exercising until his body failed him. His parents didn’t notice at the time, thinking their son was doing his best to appeal to the ladies or just to get fit; they dismissed it as part of maturing, even though he was far from that. Even so, he couldn’t blame them, he was trying to hide it anyway.
And soon enough he could barely eat a plate of food without forcing himself to puke his guts out or fast for 2 days after finishing the meal. Now after having avoided food for so long, he really didn’t feel like having any despite his stomach begging him to put something in it. His mouth salivated like that of a furious animal in front of a freshly hunted prey, waiting to savor what was served in front of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt as though he physically couldn’t bring himself to pick up the chopsticks, or open his mouth, let alone chew and swallow. He just couldn’t. Not by his own means at least. Even now he still kept the food Monokuma gave them at the fun house hidden in secret.
“Dude, Hajime, are you okay? Eat something man, you look terrible.”
“Huh?” He could recognize Kazuichi’s voice from a bit afar; by his slow response time, even Hajime could notice the lethargic aura he was carrying. “Oh, yeah… Don’t worry, I’ll get to it in a second.” Hajime smiled, or at least he tried to, showing a weak smile in order to try and ease off the worrisome look on his friend’s face. Although he wasn’t even sure if the mechanic would be able to consider him that after realizing he had no true talent to offer the world.
Kazuichi let out a worried grunt and put another piece of food in his mouth. Hajime watched as his hands moved the chopsticks until they met the other boy’s lips. He bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to numb out the grumble his stomach let out at the sight. Kazuichi kept chewing slowly as his face seemed to concentrate on his own plate, unbeknownst to the eyes taking note of his every movement. Hajime counted each bite.
« 17 »
A little above the usual range for soft foods, but below the suggested times one should chew before swallowing. Hajime watched how the food slowly made its way down the mechanic’s throat, making his cricoid cartilage move up… and down… It was then when the nausea started to kick in.
He was no better than anyone, yet he somehow, in a twisted way, felt superior. Superior for making it this far. Superior for having gone more days without eating than the rest of his classmates and for having the self-control to resist his body’s urges until now even if it made it twist, shake and grumble in pain. The satisfaction he got from watching others eat when he didn’t was something only someone as sick as him could ever understand.
Everybody was almost finished with their plates except for him, and the gazes his classmates threw in his direction were becoming apparent as he refused to even taste the food in front of him.
« Damnit. Eat something, you idiot »
If there was anything Hajime feared more than food, it had to be social pressure. He knew that as much as he wanted to escape it, he had to eat the plate of food in front of him if he didn’t want his classmates to get worried or suspicious of him. With this in mind, his hand trembled as he somehow managed to pick up the chopsticks, making every move as coordinated as he could to not appear as though he was afraid of a single plate of food, even if it was his actual situation.
«First chopstick between index and thumb, leaning on the ring finger. Second one is held by index and thumb, middle finger under chopstick… »
Of course, he didn’t need to remember these things, but keeping track of his actions made him feel in control of the situation at least. Made him feel better. Kept him from breaking down.
«I’m gonna be so bloated after not eating for so long, I’ll look disgusting»
With his free hand, he grabbed the glass of juice in front of him and made sure to get as big of a mouthful as he could to prepare his empty stomach without looking weird before guiding the chopsticks into his mouth. The now cold food rested on top of his tongue for a few seconds that seemed eternal before Hajime could bring himself to start chewing.
« 1… 2… 3… 4… »
He counted each bite making sure to get the so-called “nourishment” broken down and mashed as much as he could before swallowing slowly. After so long, the feeling of having something slightly solid going down his throat was more than weird to him. It was uncomfortable. That without mentioning the way it reminded him he had failed at containing himself before something as mundane as food. This wasn’t his first meal. Nor would it be his last. He could have waited a little more before giving in but no. The social appeal was more important than this apparently. If he really were committed to his goal, he would have lied saying that the food Monokuma gave them had been enough for today after not having anything to eat for so long. He would have lied saying his stomach hurt or that the nausea from walking over from the funhouse to the dining hall was still bothering him.
No, he wasn’t committed at all.
If he had been, he wouldn’t have kept going but with every bite, it felt as if his primal instincts of survival had taken over him a little more.
He tried to fight it but it was to no avail. His jaw trembled along with his hands as a single tear formed in his eyes. Losing control of himself because of a plate of food, it was pathetic.
« Disgusting, disgusting. I must look so disgusting eating at this pace. »
Hajime’s teeth gritted every time he swallowed. Was he making too much noise? Probably. He couldn’t tell, being too focused on the sensation of getting full at the moment. Midway through he took one deep breath. He knew exactly what this meant: his body was signaling him to stop, that it was satisfied, it had been enough.
But he kept going.
Every remorseful bite seemed to be getting a little bigger than the previous one, and to his demise, the bowl before him laid empty before Hajime could even notice it. He swallowed nervously, biting his tongue. He felt so full and so heavy his nervous body was making it hard for him to breathe calmly. He tried to steady his breath but his lips started trembling along with the rest of his limbs. Why did he finish the plate? Even if he had already failed himself, he could have at least tried to make it better by leaving some of the food. It being consumed by him was already a waste anyway.
He didn’t have much time now; he knew what he had to do.
As soon as his classmates started getting up off the table, he grabbed his things and started practically sprinting towards his cottage, this way Maybe he could burn off some of the calories he had just consumed a few moments before. Or so he thought. After closing the door behind him the first thing he did was take off his tie and shoes. After all the days they had been trapped he desperately needed a shower.
With a lightheaded feeling, he opened the bathroom door and practically collapsed against it once it was closed. Hajime grabbed his head and sighed. This was going to hurt. The moment he tried to check his hands to see how shaky he was he realized that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to trim his nails, which meant they had gotten longer than he was used to.
«Just fucking perfect. »
He sighted as he took off his shirt, then his pants; staying in his underwear. He soaked his fingers in water from the sink and kneeled in front of the toilet, lifting the seat and breathing hastily as he lowered his head. He knew it was better to stand and bend forward, that way it would be easier to get it all out, but kneeling was more comfortable, he would stand when he was halfway through.
He finally opened his mouth, guiding his index and middle finger into it. As he reached his throat, he started thrusting, forcing his fingers to hit the back of his throat once, twice, and over and over again, making himself gag repeatedly. Gag, and heave, and retch. He inhaled and exhaled after each time his stomach sunk inside of him, feeling the nausea build up and the bile reach his tongue. Eventually, it became too much for his body, and he panted before the first part of his lunch poured out of his stomach and into the toilet water.
Hajime looked at the mixture of semi-digested food. To think that it had been inside of him. It was disgusting. That was what he was feeding himself. What he was allowing to enter him. It repulsed him to think about the fact he would let himself get so worked up over that. A gruesome, yellowish bunch of nothing but wasted ingredients. Wasted time. Wasted effort.
He could have avoided all of this but instead, he decided to give in and let all he had achieved; all his pain go to waste.
He pushed into his throat again, teasing his gag reflex until another part of his meal was ejected out of his digestive system. Over, and over and over again until only drool came out of him. At that point, he tried his best to shake some of the thick spit out of his right hand before standing up and leaning down in order to start the cycle again.
This time his ring finger was added to the group, and three fingers made their way into his mouth, past his teeth, caressing the back of his tongue with every desperate motion, hitting his uvula as he reached for the epiglottis in order to trigger his gag reflex again, and again, and again. It burned so much. But “that’s just what I get for eating.” he thought.
His eyes had teared up so much they were now red due to the violent reaction of his body every time he forced himself to spew out another bit of food. Another bit of pain. Another bit of him.
The saliva dripped down his hand to his forearm, and onto his elbow, as he desperately coughed every time he left his fingers inside his throat for too long, not allowing himself to breathe until whatever big chunk of food that was in his esophagus was out of him, no matter the asphyxiation, or the scratching, or the burning. He wanted to be empty again, no matter how much it hurt him.
After a while, Hajime started to feel lightheaded again. Weak as his legs started trembling, forcing him to fall to his knees again. He hugged the toilet seat as he sobbed, gasping for air as his body kept shaking against his will. His face was covered in tears, drool, puke and snot. His throat was so sore that even breathing was starting to hurt him. The only things accompanying him now were his own gagging noises and moans as his stomach contracted painfully in response to him destroying his own throat with his nails and sharp thrusts.
«I shouldn’t have finished that; I really shouldn’t have finished that»
He panted, doing his best to avoid crying. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get everything out of his system, It was obvious from the start but he wanted to feel empty so desperately he just kept trying, no matter the pain, no matter the damage.
His nails scratched his pharynx too hard for once and he spat out blood.
It hurt. But it wasn’t enough, it was never enough. 30 minutes had passed and he was still trying to let all of it out of him, he was extremely unwilling to stop until he was sure he had gotten everything he could out of himself. He had already gotten pruney fingers from the exposure to the moisture of his throat and his knuckles were red; almost bleeding from the violently repeated friction they made against his teeth every time he thrust his hand into his mouth.
And suddenly the food just stopped coming out.
Hajime panicked, he could still feel the chunks of food stuck inside his esophagus but they just wouldn’t come out. He tried reaching deeper, he tried drinking water and jumping to clean his stomach. Hell, he even tried punching himself as hard in the gut as he could but it just wouldn’t work out. He kept retching and gagging, making so much noise he was sure anybody walking outside of the cottages would be able to hear him because of how silent the island was, but it was useless. He had to give up. He had to give up and get away from the toilet seat. It was for the best anyway.
He sobbed. He sobbed so loud it embarrassed him to the point of crying even louder. A vicious cycle. He was pathetic. All of this was pathetic. He was so weak. If he hadn’t given in when he was served that bowl of soon-to-be-wasted food nothing of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have had to go through all that pain. He wouldn’t have had to go and injure himself. He truly was pitiful. What would the ultimates say if they saw him like this?
Covered in snot, sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyes red from the tears and his face smeared with his own, self-induced vomit. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. After some minutes, Hajime finally gave in and sat on the floor, curling himself up into a ball as he kept sobbing and panting, trying to catch his breath while doing his best to hide his face from the empty room.
Or was it from himself? He couldn’t know.
He felt the coldness of the floor tiles hug his body as he lay down on the floor now, looking directly at the bathtub with an empty expression. The tears hadn’t stopped, and they formed yet another drop of fluids next to his body. It was repulsive. He had already given up. Now he just wanted to disappear for a while, and get a shower.
Hajime sighted. When he tried to get up, so as to not crawl over to the bathtub, he could feel his body being both heavier and lighter than before somehow -a recurrent but nevertheless, disconcerting feeling.
He reached the edge of the bathtub and rested his body weight against it before sighting and taking off his underwear. His hand reached for the faucet and tested the water. After all he had made himself go through he deserved to at least let himself have a warm bath, didn’t he? The way the water slowly filled up the bathtub made him tremble a little, reminding him of the previously uncomfortable sensation of being full himself.
As he got inside the bath, feeling the warm water wash him away, he closed his eyes. Another sigh escaped him. He always felt this way after trying to compensate for the fact he ate something, The thoughts were recurring anyway, but these instances did nothing except worsen his current state of mind. A simple phrase, the mistaken conclusion that maybe he should just end it all right here, right now. It wouldn’t really matter, his classmates were probably used to the sight of dead bodies by his point anyway, would his make a difference? He knew that one of the only things stopping him was the fact he still felt disgusted by his naked body, and he didn’t want anybody to examine him that closely. To see how awful he actually looked. If anyone realized that it would probably be even worse for him.
Hajime tried to get the sticky drool off his fingers and mouth, washing away the tears and snot in the process too. The fluids made strings on his separated fingers. He inhaled deeply before rubbing his hands on his face and exhaling loudly. He was so tired. His head hurt, his throat hurt, and the blood from his knuckles dripped down his fingers and fell to the bathtub water, making red pints swirl around as he moved his extremities.
The open wounds stung. Swallowing hurt. His eyes fell heavy. He was sure if he kept his eyes closed for long enough he would fall asleep on the spot but after a few more minutes in the water, he decided to finally finish cleaning himself off and get out of the bath. He shook some of the water off and wrapped his body with a towel, walking out of the bathroom and into the room with shaky legs.
His bed looked so tempting right now, and the blankets were so welcoming when he lay naked on top of them. He just wanted to wrap himself with the fabric and lie there for a while. The night-time announcement would come soon anyway, he had the time.
After his body eventually dried off, he slowly got up to put on something to go to bed and brush his teeth. The stomach acid in his mouth had probably faded enough by that time to not cause damage while brushing anyway. Seeing himself in the bathroom mirror was enough to make his stomach sink again. He tried to look away until he was done, rinsing his mouth and spitting, realizing there was blood on it.
He cleaned the sink and got back to bed, hugging a pillow as he buried his face in the soft item. It smelled clean, like laundry detergent. After all he had faced today, he wished he could be as clean as that.