Work Text:
Nagito smiled slightly as he worked. He threw the spear over the ceiling girder, and held the end of the chord. Then, slowly and methodically, he wrapped some tan rope around the pillars, making sure each length was long enough. He wrapped a small piece of rope around his left hand, before burning the end of it with his oil lighter. He lied down on the cold concrete, and put a strip of duct tape over his mouth, before tying the ropes on the pillars around his limbs, making sure not to let go of the spear. Then, he pulled out his survival knife. Nagito held his breath for a moment. This was it. Nagito plunged the knife directly into his thigh. Fighting back a choked scream, he ripped it out, and stabbed himself again, and again, and again, and again.
Soon enough both of his thighs were littered with deep stab wounds. Fighting back cries of pain, Nagito changed his target. He began to make deep lacerations in his left arm, slicing through his sleeves and skin like butter. Nagito stopped, catching his breath. The pain was immense, but he wasn’t done. In fact, he had barely begun. He shoved the knife into the Monokuma plushie beside him, and with a muffled cry, he drove his hand down onto it, before knocking the plushie aside, still tightly gripping the spear cord.
Now, all he had to do was wait. Wait in absolute agony as he slowly bled out on the concrete, waiting for the other inhabitants of Jabberwock Island to arrive and finish what he started.
Finally, after what felt like eons of pain, the door burst open. Nagito couldn't see it since the curtain was in the way, but he could easily hear the sound of it being kicked open, even with the creepy music blaring in the background. If it weren't for the immense pain he was in and the tape over his mouth, he’d have smiled. Then, he saw a small flame start to grow on the curtain, and soon enough, the whole thing was engulfed in flame. Nagito watched it, still gripping the spear’s cord tightly, hoping they would get the fire grenades soon, so the pain could end. Nagito heard shouting from the other end of the warehouse, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying over the loud music and the crackling of the fire. By now, most of the curtain had burned up, but Nagito couldn't see much beyond the raging flames. He just laid there for what felt like an eternity, though it was likely only a few minutes, subjected to the heat of the flames, and the pain all over his body.
Eventually, Nagito saw the sprinklers come on, dousing the fire. The fire slowly shrank just enough that he could just barely make out the door, and the people there. Hajime, Kazuichi, Sonia, Fuyuhiko, Akane, and Chiaki were standing there, watching the fire slowly go out. Each one had a fully intact red fire grenade in hand. Nagito’s pale skin became even paler. They were too slow. The sprinklers came on before they got back with the grenades, and now they weren’t throwing them. Nagito stared wide-eyed, as the fire was diminished to nothing but smoke before his eyes. He saw the six people before him start running in, only to be stopped by Monokuma, and then all leave. All Nagito could do was watch, unable to move, as they all left the building, leaving him alone with the smoke and the pain.
After a painfully long time, most of the smoke was cleared away, and the others came back. At this point, he was struggling to breathe properly with the tape over his mouth, and his eyes were streaming from all the smoke, or maybe from the pain, he couldn't be sure. He had been trying to get out, but with three limbs tied, and the last one with a knife sticking out of it, his efforts were futile, so he had had to just lie there and take it, but they were finally back. Throughout the time he spent lying there, he contemplated just letting go of the spear and ending his suffering, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. He wanted his death to have meaning. So, he just allowed himself to suffer.
Nagito watched as all the others slowly and hesitantly made their way towards where he lay. They ducked beneath what was left of the curtain, and finally, they saw him. Suddenly, all of their demeanors changed.
“UWAAAGGHHHHHH!!" Kazuichi screamed. "HE'S DEEEEAAAAD!"
"MMMHFF!" Nagito let out a muffled cry. Kazuichi quickly went silent, before screaming again,
"HE'S ALIIIIIIIVE!!"
"Silence, pest!" Sonia exclaimed, shutting Kazuichi up. She and Hajime quickly crouched down and began untying him. Sonia took the spear cord out of Nagito's hand and held onto it herself as she slowly started lowering the spear, before taking it away. Hajime took the duct tape off of Nagito's mouth, and Nagito immediately took a large gasp for air, sounding as though he just ran a marathon as he coughed and wheezed.
"What the hell happened?" Hajime asked as he worked on untying Nagito's right arm. Nagito didn't respond, he just kept gasping for air and wheezing pathetically. Suddenly, while untying Nagito's legs, Sonia accidentally bumped Nagito's thigh, right where he had stabbed himself, causing a strangled cry to escape his lips, the sound akin to that of a kicked puppy. Nagito squeezed his eyes shut.
"I am sorry!" Sonia apologized, as she kept untying him, more carefully now.
Soon enough, Nagito was fully untied, the only thing left was the knife still stabbed into his left hand, which Hajime decided should stay in until they could bandage it properly. Hajime gently lifted Nagito up, and began carrying him out of the warehouse. At first, he debated bringing Nagito to the hospital, but decided against it due to all the… less than pleasant memories he had tied to the place. Instead, he decided to bring Nagito to his cottage. All the way, everyone kept asking Nagito questions like; "Who did this?" "What happened?" "Why did you lie about the bombs?" Some people seemed worried, but they still seemed angry about the bomb scare. Nagito didn't answer anyone. He just kept quiet as they brought him to the hospital.
They arrived at Hajime’s cottage, and Hajime set Nagito down on the couch. By now, both he and Hajime were covered in his blood. Once Nagito was situated on the small couch, Hajime stepped back.
“Kazuichi, you run to the hospital and grab bandages.” Hajime ordered. Kazuichi ran off as he was told, all too eager to be away from Nagito. While waiting for him to return, Hajime found himself sitting down next to Nagito, gently rubbing his head to try to distract the boy from the pain he was in.
Finally, Kazuichi returned, panting, holding multiple rolls of bandage wrap. Instantly, Chiaki stepped up. She took one of the rolls of bandage wrap, handed it to Hajime, and then stood over Nagito.
"Alright, Nagito, this is gonna hurt, but it'll be over soon, yeah?" Chiaki said, grasping the handle of the knife in Nagito's hand. Nagito swallowed a lump in his throat, and nodded. Chiaki put one of her hands onto Nagito's for stability, and then, in one quick motion, she pulled the knife out of his hand.
"AUGHH!" Nagito screamed in pain. His breath was ragged and he was shaking violently from all the pain. Quickly, Hajime began wrapping Nagito's hand up in many layers of bandages, as Chiaki disposed of the knife. All the while, Sonia, Akane, Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko watched, Kazuichi visibly unsettled, and Akane was making a rather scary face. Silently, Hajime motioned for those who quite evidently did not want to be there to leave. More than happily, Kazuichi, Akane, and Fuyuhiko left, so it was down to Hajime, Chiaki, and Sonia.
"Hey, Hajime," Chiaki said. "We need to take off his jacket and pants so we can bandage him up and it would be better if a boy did it, I think." Hajime nodded reluctantly, and began removing Nagito's torn, bloodied jacket. He grimaced at the gruesome lacerations on Nagito’s arm, but said nothing. Sonia quickly wrapped up his arm, doing her best to not hurt him. Then, Hajime started to awkwardly pull Nagito’s pants down, which would've been a lot easier if Nagito was responding or moving, but he just sat there, wide eyed and shaky, as the fabric shifting over his stab wounds sent spikes of pain throughout his body. Eventually, Hajime got the fabric off of Nagito’s bloodied legs, allowing Chiaki and Sonia to bandage up the deep wounds, finally covering the last of his injuries.
Eventually, the girls awkwardly left. Of course, Hajime stuck around, (it was his cottage, after all) and sat down on his bed, facing Nagito on the couch. Hajime picked up one of the blankets from his bed and threw it over to Nagito without a word. Nagito could tell he had something to say, but Hajime kept silent for a while, fidgeting with his hands.
After a while, Hajime finally spoke.
“Why?” He asked. Nagito flinched slightly at his words breaking the tense silence.
“Why…?” Nagito echoed, feigning ignorance.
“Why would you do that to yourself?” Hajime asked, looking anywhere but Nagito’s eyes. Nagito looked down at his hands resting in his lap.
“Who says I did all that myself?” Nagito asked quietly.
“You were holding the spear.” Hajime said. “And what killer would leave their weapon in the victim’s hands?” Nagito went silent. He didn’t know how he could play this off.
“I just…” He started. He had nothing to say. He trailed off, refusing to look Hajime in the eye.
“Nagito, I just want to know… why?” Hajime asked again.
“I…” Nagito trailed off. He forced a fake condescending expression, and changed his tone as he said, “Why should I tell you?”
“Huh?” Hajime didn't seem to expect that kind of reaction. “Fine, you don't have to tell me why you tried to do that but…”
“But?” Nagito echoed, still with an air of condescension.
“But nothing you just did makes any sense!” Hajime said. “If you just wanted to.. Y’know… die… Why didn't you just drop the spear? And why would you go that far with your injuries?” Nagito went quiet for a moment before speaking.
“None of your business, Hajime.” He said coldly.
“Nagito, please.” Hajime said.
“What makes a talentless Reserve Course student think he’s fit to interrogate an Ultimate?” Nagito asked coldly. Hajime sighed.
“Fine, then.” He said. “Just go to sleep.” Slowly, Hajime lied down on his bed, rolling over to face away from Nagito.
Despite Hajime’s technical presence, Nagito felt alone. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd done and how badly he'd fucked it up. Right now, he was supposed to be dead, and all those filthy Despairs were meant to be on their way to joining him. How could this even happen to him? He was supposed to be the Ultimate Lucky Student, yet his Luck failed him when he needed it most? How was that even possible? How could he have failed like this? Why did those sprinklers turn on when they did? Why didn’t they throw the fire grenades? Why was he still alive?
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Nagito awoke slowly on the small, uncomfortable couch. Nagito sighed. He only just woke up and he already felt like shit. Just yesterday, he botched his kamikaze plan, and now he was alive and in pain. He failed so miserably. He and the other Despairs should have been dead by now. Why did he have to fuck it up? He couldn't live with himself knowing what he did. He should be dead. Subhuman trash like him deserves to die. A small tear tracked down Nagito's cheek. Everything he ever wanted… To be the Ultimate Hope… It was all impossible. He was a Remnant of Despair. He was an enemy of hope. He and all the others need to die. They all deserve it.
Just then, a harsh knock on the door shook Nagito out of his spiraling thoughts.
"Hey, Hajime, or, uh, Nagito? It's uh, Kazuichi. Miss Sonia told me to come wake you ‘cause you’re missing breakfast." Kazuichi sounded nervous. Nagito couldn't blame him. Anyone would be unsettled knowing that a filthy creature like him was on the other side of the door. Nagito decided he couldn't be bothered to answer Kazuichi. He just opted to ignore him. He couldn’t bear the idea of eating a meal with everyone. He heard Kazuichi call out a few more times, before hearing the sound of footsteps walking away.
Nagito sighed, and just turned over. He doubted he could even stand with his injuries, much less walk to the door, so he just stayed put. Trash like him didn't deserve food anyways, so he might as well just stay in bed.
A few minutes passed with Nagito just spending his time staring at the ceiling. All he had to think about was the pain in his body and the dark thoughts in his head, so it was no surprise that he was absolutely miserable.
A new interruption hit him, this time coming in the form of Hajime waking up. Nagito couldn’t help but be surprised that the boy hadn’t woken to the sound of the knocking earlier, though.
"Hey, Nagito." Hajime said. Nagito sighed heavily. Why was Hajime talking to him? Shouldn't he want nothing to do with him after yesterday?
"What do you want, Hajime?" Nagito asked tiredly. He didn't have much energy, but for some reason he didn't want to ignore Hajime.
"I heard what Kazuichi said." Hajime said. “I should go get us some food."
“Oh.” Nagito replied.
“I guess I should get going now…” Hajime said, standing up. Nagito stared at him as he straightened out his shirt that he fell asleep in, and put on his shoes. After putting them on, Hajime quickly left the room, leaving Nagito to his own devices. Nagito couldn’t help but be confused as to why Hajime wasn’t afraid to leave him alone. Maybe he just figured Nagito was too beat up to do anything. Maybe he was right.
Eventually, Hajime returned with a plate of food in his arms. He handed the food to Nagito, who looked at it skeptically. Nagito just set the plate down on the floor in front of him. Instead of sitting down or leaving the cottage, Hajime just stood, staring at Nagito.
“What do you want?” Nagito asked, unsure of if he wanted Hajime to leave him alone or not. Hajime stayed quiet for a moment.
“Are… Are you okay?” He asked after a little.
“...Huh?” Nagito questioned, caught off guard. Why was Hajime asking him if he was okay?
“I mean like… emotionally, physically, are you okay?” Hajime asked again. “I care about you, you know.” Nagito was quiet for a moment, before putting on his most friendly smile and speaking.
“I’m fine, Hajime!” He said, sounding a bit too upbeat. “No need for you to be all worried for trash like me!” Hajime frowned.
“Are you sure? I mean…” Hajime trailed off, just looking Nagito over before quickly changing the subject. “And don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“Sorry…” Nagito said, kicking himself internally. Why was he apologizing to an Ultimate Despair? Hajime is both a talentless Reserve Course Student and a Remnant of Despair, so why the hell did he apologize? Well, it wasn’t like Nagito was any better. He was a Despair too. He couldn't act like he had any moral high ground over Hajime when he was just as bad. Hell, he was even worse.
"...Nagito?" Hajime's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Huh?"
"You looked really sad all of a sudden, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yep!" Nagito said, forcing another obviously fake smile.
"Okay then…" Hajime responded, obviously not believing a word Nagito was saying. "Well, just make sure you eat this, then," He said, gesturing to the tray of food. "And uh, just… know I'm here for you, okay?"
"Hajime, you really don't need to waste your time on scum like me!" Nagito responded in a tone far too casual for the words he spoke.
“Nagito, stop that.” Hajime said. Nagito went silent, so Hajime continued. “It’s not healthy to talk about yourself like that, you know. Anyways, I need to go. Just… remember what I said, okay?”
“Uh huh.” Nagito agreed half-heartedly as Hajime walked out the door, closing it, and leaving Nagito alone again.
Nagito rolled over with a sigh, and looked at the plate of food on the floor. The food Monokuma provided was always good but it was nothing next to Teruteru’s food. Teruteru… How many people had he poisoned with his food? How much despair had he spread with such a hopeful talent? Nagito felt sick to his stomach realizing that the food he had eaten once was a weapon against hope. Nagito felt even sicker to think he once admired the Remnants of Despair like a small child admires their favorite celebrity. Worse still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate them all. They were horrible, the scum of the earth, and each and every one of them deserved a horrible painful death, so why? Why could Nagito not stop thinking about that damn Reserve student? Everything about Hajime should disgust him, and yet he keeps having horrible, detestable thoughts about him. He shouldn’t feel any kind of attraction to someone like Hajime, and yet he did, and it made him feel sick.
A silent tear fell down Nagito's face. He was such a failure. Such worthless scummy garbage that doesn't even deserve to be alive. His face contorted into a sick smile. Oh, how he hated himself. Without a doubt, Nagito would die on this island. He would make sure of it. After all, he was going to die anyways. He only had half a year to a year to live, so he might as well make his death mean something. He might as well take down the other scum of the earth down with him. Maybe then he’d almost be worth something.
Nagito laughed bitterly. That was wishful thinking. Even if he took down all the Despairs with him he’d still be worth less than dirt. Hell, even just making that comparison was an insult to dirt. At least dirt served a purpose.
“Aha..!” He chuckled nervously. “Ahahaha!” His breathy wheeze-like nervous laughter picked up into a full on hysterical laugh. “Ahahahaaahahahhaaaaaa! Aahhh Hahahhahahahahaaaa!” Nagito doubled over, wheezing, laughing uncontrollably, and coughing. Insane sounding laughter always seemed to take him over when he was nervous or upset. He clutched his chest and throat as he fought to regain his breath as he wheezed. He was even more out of breath than usual. His illnesses really were doing a number on him, huh?
As he regained his breath, Nagito brought his knees up to his chest, wincing as the blanket he had been given rubbed over his sensitive legs. Nagito buried his face into his pillow. Slowly, he rubbed the bandages covering his stab wounds, ignoring the pain. He slowly started unwrapping the blood soaked bandages on his right thigh, grimacing at the sight before him. The flesh in his leg was torn and shredded. The wound was still actively bleeding, mixing in with the dried blood, forming a sickening pool of blood that almost resembled the texture of partially curdled milk. Slowly, Nagito put the bandage back. It didn’t really stick now that it had been removed, but Nagito couldn’t care less. He kept gently rubbing over the bandages, as he slowly reached his hand up to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse. Nagito smiled slightly. His pulse was weaker than it had ever been before.