Chapter Text
Breakfast has become a sort of comforting chaos.
Every morning it's a bundle of loud chimes from Ibuki, nagging from Koizumi, a loud and quite theatrical show of Akane shoveling food into her mouth at a worrying rate, with Teruteru's out of tune happy humming as he flips the meal into a smorgasbord masterpiece.
Mikan crying is a common occurrence, with Hiyoko biting or berating the nurse throughout the entire conundrum, while Nekomaru talks loudly over all the business about inappropriate bathroom tendencies during the meal.
The rest of the cast is more muted, at least; excluding Gundam's sometimes loud mannerisms of dark magic, Sonia chirping her excitement, and Souda wailing at the injustice of it all. The Imposter remains a solid presence, always at the side of Mitarai, who's face pallid has improved from it's skeletal haunt. And the ex-gangsters remain in a comforting silence, save Kuzuryuu's possible angry outbursts towards the rest of the casts inability to be quiet.
This was the ex-Despairs' morning.
Hinata wouldn't change a thing.
Except for the often absence of-
He's not here again, he notes, biting his cheek with a frown.
Not surprising, Izuru comments absently, his voice a still-somewhat-foreign presence midst the space of his own thoughts. He does dislike noisy places after all. It's likely this atmosphere gives him a headache.
Hinata's about to agree-
Understandable really. This behavior is absurd.
-and ends up rolling his eyes. Izuru, while tolerating and even protective of their friends, remains often annoyed or incredulous by the antics of them all. Hinata supposes he himself has had time to adjust into a permanent state of care and often exasperation, but the other occupying his head has yet to completely settle comfortably.
In fact, if Hinata thinks about it, Kamukura is rather indifferent to all of his friends except-
We should go find him.
Hajime sighs, teeth clicking on his fork as he takes a bite of egg.
I want to finish breakfast first.
His red eye gives a light pulse.
Go find him.
...I just said I want-
You've had plenty. And I'm bored. Let's go find him.
Hinata resists slamming his fist on the table. God, this guy! He's either too many I-don't-care's or too much my-way-is-absolute. Rubbing his temples in frustration, the brunette stands, releasing silverware from his knuckle white grip and letting the legs of his chair scream against the hard floor, a mere mosquito buzz among the already present noise.
It's Souda who takes notice. “Hey, where ya' going already?”
“Gonna look for Komaeda,” he mutters, his molars still pressed together and his face no doubt scrunched in reluctance. He holds no ill will in the idea of searching for Komaeda. Truly, the guy is much more tolerable now than he had been, he'd just appreciate if it was done on his own terms.
The mechanic seems to pick up on this. “Kamukura buggin' you again? What a weirdo.” Kazuichi stretches his arms behind his head. “That guy seems to hardly want to spend time with anyone but Komaeda. What's his deal?”
Hinata feels his mouth open, the pulse of his eye and the words about to leave his own mouth-
I find him more interesting than you and the others.
You whine more than I can tolerate.
- either is about to be said when he moves to bite his own thumb, casually trying to smother the dry replies Izuru has in store to whittle at the emotionally-sensitive mechanic. He feels Kamukura's scowl.
He tries a grin around the skin and nail, probably a noticeable grimace, and shrugs with a 'who knows', then turns around and leaves the dining space before the scene can escalate.
Izuru, predictably, speaks his irritation. I'd prefer you let me speak and act some of the time.
Some of the time?! This is the fourth time this week I've had to stop you from saying something rude! You especially can't say things like that to Souda.
The talent genius scoffs, and Hinata rolls his eyes at the mental movement of the other crossing his arms.
You could at least apologize for trying to hurt my friends' feelings, he grumbles, his feet carrying him towards the cottages.
My condolences your friend has such gaping insecurities.
Hajime throws his hands up.
That's as far as the conversation goes.
He knocks at Komaeda's cottage door as soon as he arrives.
No answer.
He knocks again. “Komaeda? You in there?”
Still nothing.
Hinata scratches his head. Huh. I sorta just figured he'd be here eating toast. Should I-?
Check the door.
Click. Nope. Locked.
…Well what now?
A niggling of worry tickles his thoughts, but he pushes it away in favor of trying optimism as he feels Izuru's contemplation merge with his own. Where else would Komaeda be? Knowing him, it'd be the last place anyone would think to look, unless for some reason-
“Hinata-kun?”
Hajime turns to the familiar face he sought, seeing the pale silhouette of Komaeda approaching, green jacket draped comfortably over a robotic arm.
“Komaeda you're-...”
Here, is the word that fails to take off from his tongue, as his heterochromic eyes flutter in surprise, arms falling tight at his sides.
“-soaking wet!”
And he is. Everything from his chest downwards is dripping with the scent of saltwater. Looking closer, Hinata notices the goosebumps running along the pale plains of those arms, and the quiet clicking of teeth chatter as a passive, if somewhat strained, smile is sent his way.
“Ah. How very observant of you Hinata-kun,” Komaeda says, the words sharper than the expression that accompanies them, though a common occurrence around the Lucky student.
Ignoring the bland sarcasm, Hinata moves aside from the cottage door as his friend steps to it. “What happened?!”
Komaeda shifts his jacket in his hands, wringing out the small amount of ocean he's carried. “Well you see, I wasn't sleeping well and took a walk along the beach last night. The stars reflecting in the sea is a beautiful sight, after all.”
A stray white tress is blown out of pale green eyes. “I had lain my jacket on the beach, but the tide unexpectedly came out and carried it across the water. It turns out that one of the rock formations has a big enough crevice to just fit through, and is actually a small cave inside. My coat had been carried by the currents into that tiny cove, and when I went to retrieve it, the tide came once more and I was stuck inside for the rest of the night. I only just got out of it a bit ago.”
Hinata frowns as Komaeda tries the handle of the door, finding it locked and tilting his head as he casually continues his story. “It's a good thing the water only filled the cave up to my chest otherwise I would have drowned.”
The words come out so casual, as though the prospect of his close call was a topic to wave off, that the brunette is reminded of just how little worth his friend sees in himself. He may no longer have a constant stream of self-insults leaving his mouth, but that didn't mean he's cured in his confidence.
Emotions blow through him like a whirlwind. Some his own, some Izuru's, and others both. He has many things he could and wants to say, but none leave his mouth before his counterpart is nudging at him once again.
Hajime, ask questions later. He could get seriously sick. He needs a warm bath.
Olive and red eyes trace the light quiver coming over the entirety of his friend, and his worry flares violently. Right.
“Komaeda, you're going to get sick,” he starts, stepping forward. “Get in a warm bath, I'll pull some clothes for you, and then you're in bed for the rest of the day. I'll ask Tsumiki to come check up on you as well.”
Nagito shakes his head absently as he digs the pockets of his jackets. “That's not necessary, Hinata-kun, I can take care of myself. Ah, though my key seems to have fallen out of my pocket...must be in the ocean somewhere now.”
Ah. Sometimes Hinata forgets how much this guy makes him want to pull his own hair out.
Let's not. You already keep it dreadfully short and pointlessly spiked as it is.
Not now, Izuru.
I agree. Focus on Nagito.
After a moment of contemplation, the male in question seems to decide on something and without a word, slams a metal fist down on the handle, effectively breaking the lock.
“There.”
Hinata blinks. Well I guess that works.
Komaeda opens the door and smiles, turning to the other. “I'll be just fine. Thanks for checking up on me though.”
Before the sly albino can slip through his door and away, Izuru enters the cottage uninvited, closing the door behind him.
“I wasn't asking. I'm going to make sure you're okay.”
Komaeda bodily ignores him, draping his coat over a chair and clipping off his chain to set on a stray dresser. “Izuru-kun, I appreciate the concern, but it's truly unneeded.”
There it is again.
Hinata and Kamukura both feel it, the swell of affection. Komaeda seems to be the only individual on the island able to always tell the two apart, even while they wear the same face. The others speculate, but are never as assure in their switch as the one before them now.
Hajime can feel Izuru almost purr under the acknowledgment. He internally rolls his eyes.
Why does he call you by first name and not me, anyways?
Are you jealous?
Smug bastard.
As if!
“-back to breakfast with the others.”
Hinata jolts, missing the majority of what's said and is too slow to respond when the bathroom door is closed behind a disappearing silhouette and the lock clicks into place.
He frowns, biting his lip.
Is it really okay just to leave him like this?
Of course not. Find some warm clothes and put them outside the bathroom door. We can head back to the kitchen and bring back a beneficial breakfast on a tray. And I intend to stay with him the rest of the day.
Hinata tongues his cheek. I agree on most of that, but...all day? Don't we have other things to do? I mean I'm concerned too but if he's just resting...
And that's when he feels it. The swarm of protectiveness washes over him like a torrent. Guilt. A fierce sense of duty; and the tingle of carefully concealed devotion.
...Izuru...you-
I should have been there.
Hajime winces at the fervent snap of words flooding his head.
My luck can cancel out his, but left alone, his luck will wreak havoc and burden him once more. I will not allow him to live in that fear any longer. I should have been there last night to prevent this.
A moment of silence. Hinata blinks at the impossible development playing out before him. Izuru...he...
“I see...”
The brunette exits the cottage, closing the door behind him quietly, and makes his way up the path back towards the rest of the islanders.
_
By the time he's back, stopping at the threshold of the cottage and balancing a tray of breakfast in his arms, Komaeda is a lump of blankets on the bed.
There's no heavy snore or congested rumble, only the hum of the small corner fan and the light breath rising and falling from pale lips.
Placing the tray on the first flat surface found, Hinata hums lightly, scratching his head. Guess he's already asleep.
Incorrect.
...Huh?
He's pretending.
What? How can you tell that? And why would he be?
His breathing pattern is just the slightest unsteady. As for why, it is likely he predicted our return and is trying to avoid the encounter.
Hearing this, he frowns. Why would he not want to talk to us?
It is possible he has guessed my own thoughts in that I intend to stay near him to subdue his luck. In turn, this might be his way of giving us an out so that we may leave. Or perhaps that's his desire. To be left alone.
You don't sound sure. Hinata raises his brows, surprised.
Nagito Komaeda is a complex character. I have had few times in which I have been one-hundred percent certain of his thought process.
The other occupant can't help but notice the veiled affinity in Kamukura's words. He gulps his suspicions for another day, however, and instead notes on his happiness that the talented individual sharing his body has begun to appreciate his friends.
Unlike most of your other friends. Fanatic simpletons.
Hajime rolls his eyes. Nevermind.
Picking up the tray once more, they carry it to the bedside table, shifting a small crooked lamp from it's center to make room. They move slowly, careful not to clatter the silverware despite the suspicions of false-sleep.
Hinata turns to leave, planning to let Tsumiki know to stop by Komaeda's cottage, and find a good book to bury his nose in while he sits at his friend's side for the day. Perhaps he'll grab a cushion for the chair while he's at it.
Before his body can get momentum however, Izuru stops with his knees to the bed.
...what're you doing?
Hajime goes ignored, as the Ultimate talent quietly observes a delicate face, and without hesitance, reaches forward, sliding across a soft cheek before brushing back a piece of cotton hair.
...Izuru! Wha-?!
“Rest well, Nagito.”
Taking his hand away, Kamukura pivots and leaves the cottage, setting out for the Ultimate nurse as planned.
Hinata swallows hard, one hundred scolds at the ready all falling into a pit in his stomach. He stays silent.
He's not sure it's his place.
_