yogen | npc contact.3

( STOPPPP STOPPPPPPP OH IM SICKKKKKKKKK ok... so komaeda keeps his hands there shaking because deep in the recesses of his mind, he doesn't understand there's something COOKING in the arata bloodline. shake shake. )

Properly... I haven't met anyone with names like that yet, but if I pay attention to my surroundings... I should. I'll do that, say hi to everyone I meet.

( he huffs a little, not because he's upset, but he's entertained by the comment. luckily komaeda doesn't mind being a disappointment, but... )

It's the same reason why you said Saihara-kun was better suited for me, right? ( but he wants two names, let's see. ) Do I tell you two transfers, or two of the people who have always been here in this school?

[ NO DON'T HAVE THIS CONVERSATION WHILE TOUCHING HIS LEGS ]

That depends on if you mean "always," or simply for a very long time. The two aren't necessarily distinct.

( WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? WHAT IS YOU HAVING KOMAEDA TALK ABOUT. )

...Hm, a long time then, but we've all been here for quite awhile...

( he leans back from touching his legs, and instead he pulls up his sleeve, tapping his wrist where a yellow scarf is wrapped around his tallies. )

I started here with six, but that doesn't really tell me how long I've been here, I could have just had a good run in my one life.

( but he's not like rokkun who has been here since god knows when, so it's hard to choose between a transfer and a native in that sense. )

[ why are you asking me, I never know what Komaeda's talking about ]

That's true. It doesn't tell you how long you've been in between, either. I hope that puts those numbers into perspective.

( THEN WHY COULDN'T HE TOUCH LEGGG!!! )

Then... Kaneko-kun and Shujinkou-chan! I think I've made a connection, maybe, probably.

[ BECAUSE THAT'S WEIRD komaeda's weird, he can do what he wants ]

"Maybe, probably"? What sort of connection do you feel between you and them?

( HE'S JUST SOMEONE'S DADDY, AND KOMAEDA'S BEEN A DADDY WHATS THE ISSUE!!! )

Kaneko-kun had a strong urge to do something idiotic to me, so he must feel things that I don't. ( ... ) Shujinkou-chan seems to do her best, I like those that put forward an effort.

( good enough, even though this is none of his exact feelings. )

I'm more curious in their hope!

[ you can't just go up to somebody and say "this is okay bc we're both dads" and proceed to rub their thighs

... ]

That's nice. And what sort of connection do you feel between you and them?

[ One is the opposite of connection and the other is one-sided, do better ]

( can he have one more squeeze? )

...I feel as if Shujinkou-chan, in the right circumstance, could help bring hope. She's a boring, talentless individual... and those are the underdogs that give people the thought that maybe they can do something, and so watching her do and act causes a force.

( if he means on a personal level, komaeda's very personal with hope, but that's what it's always to him — actual feelings for people gets harder? because if he admits anything, his luck will remove them clean, and he's aware, so he remains mindful. saying something like this however does show he must have some good thoughts about her. )

Do you want me to talk about your son?

[ maybe if he eats his macadamia nuts

there's a very strong urge to repeat the question a third time, but maybe this is all Komaeda's got. Everybody here's going to die again eventually, so really, he has no need to worry about his rebound luck ]

I want you to talk about what you want.

[ And if that something is his idiot son... Mizuki crunches on another macadamia nut ]

( sighs, put one on the desk. )

You sound disappointed in me.

( no, he can just tell that he didn't answer the question properly because he avoided it purposefully, and he crosses his legs in as hands now rest in his own lap. )

Scum like me is capable of having friends, but... it feels as if it'll be short-lived, almost undeserving because it's me. I don't put that term to the people, and I focus on their hope, I want to have a hopeful connection. Even at the cost of my own life. Me and Shujinkou-chan are at a start... I finally sat down and listened to her problems, so I tried to help.

[ Yes he does. He offers Komaeda the nut bowl again. ]

Why must you deserve things? Why not just take what you want?

[ That hopeful connection. He knows how; he's capable of it. ]

Does something being short lived make it not worth it? Must things last forever?

( he'll take out four nuts, and he eats one to mull over the question, it's always been like that to him. not being able to deserves, not being able to take what he wants properly. he thinks chiaki also asked him this. )

...That's how it's always been, I can't deserves, because there are others who deserve it better. I'm their mediator between those with hope, and those without it. ( he pauses, chewing on another, they're not bad, but it gives him time to decide on what he wants to say. ) I can, and I do, but I'd give it to another, so it's never actually... mine.

( he's not trying to throw a pity party for himself though, this is how life was chosen for him, as someone who doesn't have an actual talent, one who doesn't give hope like the others. )

It makes you appreciate it more before it's gone. ...I usually go through life not thinking about those sorts of things.

Most people don't take the time to think. You know better than others, though, don't you, Komaeda? That hope is not a limited commodity. Hope begets hope... something for all.

[ Regardless of whether they deserve it. It's what he's always saying about his Ultimates, bringing about that shining hope whose light would envelop the world— and like it or not, he is part of that world. ]

So tell me. Why do you not deserve it?

Hope is something endlessly in motion that can be given to anything and anyone, and there are others who talents are to help those who need it... to have something you can control and assist others, which gives them more hope... it must be nice.

( it is something for all, but he also knows there's no hope in his mediocre talent, so all he has is to help those who have hope. same thing as always, he'll put his life on the line, but he pauses for a moment. )

It's funny to say this to you of all people... I never heard such words from my parents, and even during my admission to Hope's Peak Academy, they said I wasn't the ideal choice, that it was wasted on me. ...I denied entering, but they kept asking me to come back even though my talent was meaningless.

( but he respects hope peak so much despite knowing the good and bad about it, the hope that started from that place is what made the country what it was. he admires that place personally despite the horrible things that he did to it along with others, a place where hope shined bright and defeated despair. )

There's no need to lie to myself when it's said to my face over and over again, people don't make the most out of what's told to them.

You take the thoughts and feelings of others into consideration. [ ... ] Selectively.

[ The negative things. The positives seem to be wafted off to become part of the passing breeze. ]

Tell me about your talent, and what those others saw in it.

Do I...? I try to think of everything.

( that stands out, but he believes in them regardless, and so he sits and listens. he doesn't feel anxious, but he doesn't really like the latter part of the conversation, and that's because he doesn't like to talk about himself.

he eats his final nut, chewing slowly as he places his hands on his knees. what do people think of it? )

...It's a mediocre talent that brings no hope like other talents that I know. ( like how a detective can use their talents at the ready, figuring out a case step by step, how the musician can sing at any given moment and give hope to the people that hear it. though those skills aren't tangible, they can be seen, heard, give people hope that something will happen, a beautiful construct crafted to help the individuals around them find happiness and joy.

what does luck do...? )

...They don't believe in it, or I just didn't seem lucky, but perhaps it's because that luck didn't work for them? ( people died for komaeda's luck, he gains so much as others lose. ) There's various types of luck, two others have this same skill, but I find that their version is better than mine.

( truth be told, his is better than naegi's, but there is someone else whose luck is better than komaeda's. since this is about him, he only finds disappointment in himself. )

...I'm the Ultimate Lucky Student, hm... now anyway, if I graduate, I can just be Ultimate Luck again. ( he guesses there is one way to prove it, but... it's a lot to ask. ) Arata-san, will you try and kill me? Throwing knives, using guns, your choice.

[ leans back, swipes a dagger from the desk drawer, and stabs Komaeda in the gut.

It's a quick in and out, not enough to be immediately fatal, but give it some time. ]

( he doesn't mind how it's done, as long as the counselor goes for it, komaeda will accommodate accordingly, or so he thought. the desk doesn't break under him, because that would be too easy, and instead the knife piercing his skin causes a blinding, intense burning cold in that general area. the kind of sensation when a person touches dry ice with their bare hands, an uncomfortable feeling that settles in his abdomen. his body shakes, eyes slowly glancing down as he watches the blade covered in his own blood swiftly come out, hanging in the counselor's grasp. a few splatters of blood covers his pants, and komaeda's brain jumps from here to there, finally exhaling his breath he thought that he would choke on.

he gasps again, his body falling forward off the desk with a thump to the ground, and he isn't sure if that was tear in his body or what, but an area like that causes him to raise his organic hand to cover it. his entire body goes from one temperature to another, he's hot, and then he's cold, and he feels himself shivering just a bit as he that pinching sensation builds up in the area. his shirt absorbs the blood, causing a nasty blotch on his uniform, and a few drips manage to drop onto the floor underneath him.

if he hadn't pulled it out, this could be an easy fix with the right treatment, but he's left alone to his own devices. he coughs, accepting of this, but he isn't scared, no... it's more like he's been waiting for it. inflicting pain on himself is a whole different demon, but having someone else execute it without a second thought excites him, that his shock becomes excitement, and he laughs amused by this. the amount of blood that slips between the cracks of his fingers is questionable, and even inhale makes him feel sick, but he isn't displeased, rather as he tries to keep himself from falling completely while on his legs, and his one prosthetic that's holding him up; he looks up at the counselor with a smile. )

Nice aim...

( it's not bad, is what his brain manages to come to, and most of his senses are numbed anyway that this could be worse than what it is. he finds that there's nothing to be gained from his death though, and deep inside of his mind, he knows that he can't die hopelessly, he reminds himself his body will be used for more than just an example.

time's ticking. )

Ahahahahaha...! You did that... because you're guessing I won't die?

( isn't there a penalty for killing students here since he's a counselor? )

[ The warm hardwood grows hot with Komaeda's blood, the darkness only creeping in his periphery rather than swallowing him up whole. The counselor leans forward, elbows on his knees, and simply watches Komaeda bleed.

tick

tock

... ]

I guessing that you don't truly want to die. If you survive this, it will not be because of luck.

[ It will be because of Komaeda himself, his decisions, his actions. The counselor keeps his hands to himself, watching. ]

No... you're wrong, just not like this.

( he doesn't want to die hopelessly, there's nothing about this that serves a cause, but he rewinds his words into his head — what does he want? for komaeda to dig his fingers into the wound? he could, but that doesn't show anything but desperation, and he's not that sort of person at all. )

...Ahaha, isn't it such a pathetic talent ( thank you for reminding him, and he blinks hard as if trying to set his vision straight ), all I can count on is that... I was lucky you were an inch away from killing me.

( that's how luck would work for him, but a sigh as he tries to keep himself focused in his cold sweat. )

If I die here... how will I help them?

( it's like on cue, the blood sliding under his prosthetic, causing his upper body to fall forward, his face hitting the floor (barely missing laying face first in his blood), but his forehead does connect with the hardwood — a small, throbbing pain.

tick

tock

... )

[ Not like this, then like how? Will he orchestrate his own death once more? Will it even mean anything, when there are students who still believe "oh, well, he'll just come back, no big deal"? ... ]

Give me a little credit, at least. You being an inch away from death was not luck.

[ He gives Komaeda a gentle smile. It's one Komaeda has shown to many a person before. A mirror. ]

Your words will linger in their minds and souls long after you are gone. Their successes, their failures, they will be yours too. You have done a lot in what little time you had.

[ He has done enough. He is no longer needed. ... ]

But you still want to do more, don't you? In spite of how the fates twist around you... Are you going to die here, in my office?

( credit...? he thinks about it, wondering why he needs to do so, but it was his knife, his kindness by listening to komaeda's request, and his choice to stab there. sometimes luck can be a domino effect of instances, and this couldn't have happened without him. )

A... Ah... What was it a mistake? Or... ( his voice lowers, trying to keep his gaze up to read the other's lips rather than listen. a mistake on his behalf considering the smile, but why does that look so familiar? he's seen it before, he goes through his mind, a soft "oh..." leaves from his mouth as a realization. ) a lesson...?

( what has he done so far... rile them up, back them into a corner, become attached to some of these friendships, all he's done is made himself the enemy so they don't have to worry about anything else. just so they're united, standing under the same umbrella that will protect them from despair.

he exhales, his body feels a warm, tingling sensation down one side of his body, and his vision muddy, blurring together, or is that the blood coming in his peripherals? )

...No, no. That absolute hope... that they'll find will be theirs... ( all komaeda can do is help them go in the right direction, and even now, he tries to push himself up with his organic hand — his palm smearing red against the floor as his body shakes, it feels like there's a tear where he was stabbed, it's a never-ending pain that builds up, and he struggles to push himself up. if he can lift his head up properly, then...

maybe he is no longer needed, if he could hear those words, then it could give him incentive to die... or not. )

If this is fate... something I can't control... then I can't help what happens to me in this office... now can I?

( he coughs, and oh... what's that? a little blood coming up from his throat? hm... )

Mistakes are things you regret. This... You asked for this, Komaeda.

[ "Arata-san, will you try and kill me?" wasn't it? Whatever point he was going to prove— how his luck won't let him die, how he will survive and bring misfortune down on the counselor's head in return, whatever it was...

In this room, blood seeps and drips and stains the ground red. There is no void to run to. There are no powers to turn to. He has to wonder, in this place cut off from everything else, can fortune and fate still touch this boy who lies on the ground before him? ... ]

You resign yourself so easily to fate. Fate takes responsibility from your hands, and in return, gives you a convenient excuse. Is this truly fate? Will you die here, a pointless death? Or will you save your own life? You have the means.

[ The PDA digs into his side where he's fallen. Outside, in the hallway that feels lightyears away, he can hear a door open, the nurse's voice cheerfully returning a goodbye. The counselor sits in front of him, ever watching. ]

( but he doesn't regret it, so if he doesn't regret it then... it's not a mistake, yet, it's something he asked for knowing the outcome, even as his body burns, and his vision blurs. he's surprised that his hearing even works correctly — he thought by now the white noise would take over. komaeda knows better than himself, or perhaps the counselor knows too from being a mirror that komaeda has certain requirements to die; and a lowly stab isn't part of it. the idea of death tempts him, but not like this.

he gasps dryly, almost about to check on his own air as he groans in his slow movements. )

...Ah.

( the taste of blood feels stronger on his tongue, it's hearing the same words over again of how pointless such a death will be that gnaws at his thoughts. he won't die because someone decides it, and hearing things like fate... this being his decision... then his decision is that he won't die like this. he can't imagine just dying when he has so much to do, even if his time should have been spent by now, but there's so many people that need his help (one sided), and others that'll only wallow in despair if there's no one to guide them.

he couldn't stand it, he can't stand it, ah... he can't stand.

he tries to figure out the perfect way to respond. if he continues playing in such idle chatter, that'll be it, and he doesn't have tape slapped across his mouth, there's nothing that can muffle his screams as he lays low to the floor — it's not like last time, the throbbing pinch building up.

his head feels light, but he has to do something, would pushing himself up and moving cause issues? )

Ah —.. Akari-san...

( force it, lifting his upper body up so that he no longer has to feel the pda at his side — reaching into his pocket so that he can throw it over towards the door with what strength he has left. sometimes adrenaline and fear to die hopelessly is one hell of a drug, as he calls out again. )

AKARI-SAN....!!!

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