Chapter Text
(11/05/2012: 1)
Servant was heading back to the Old School Building at Hope’s Peak Academy, the place of the Killing School Life, the place where the Ultimate Hope defeated the Ultimate Despair.
The first time he’d gone was to get Junko’s hand, but he’d been in too much of a daze to remember anything clearly. All he remembered was that he had to hurry.
Now he was here to explore the place where the Ultimate Hope had defeated the Ultimate Despair—specifically, the trial room. It was like him, after all, to pathetically cling to hope like the scum he was. Mostly, he just wanted to walk around it and replay the moment she was defeated.
He entered through the area where the giant metal door had once held Class 78 captive, and immediately turned right. He was here for the trial room, after all. Another right turn, and there were the red doors that led to the elevator—the one that would take him down to the trial room.
After Junko died, the mechanism controlling the elevator changed. Before, it had been operated remotely, but afterward, she wanted only Remnants of Despair to have access—so it was switched to an eye scanner.
He’d gotten the elevator to move and patiently waited for it to finish its descent. He felt giddy. Now, he could finally experience the trial room properly.
How exciting.
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened.
He was met with a familiar sight—he had closely watched the entire game through the broadcasts. Naturally, it was different from actually being there and seeing it in person. The decorations looked even tackier in person.
He spent a good while looking around all the podiums. He stood at Makoto’s and imagined the moment he became the Ultimate Hope.
He walked over to that woman’s podium. How disdainful and terrible. How amazing and wonderful. He was actually considering standing on it when he took a step forward—only to stumble over the edge of the platform.
He landed on his back with a soft thud. Lying there, he glanced up, and his eyes caught something bright—a big, red button glaring from beneath the seat of Monokuma’s throne.
Curiosity prickled at him. He hadn’t seen that button used in any trial, nor heard it mentioned anywhere. What was it for?
Against his better judgment, he pushed himself up, his right hand pressing into the cold floor. He shuffled closer, gripping the base of the chair, and climbed onto the first step. His heart beating faster, he leaned over and pressed the button. A strange noise echoed.
Then the chair began descending with him on it. “Whu-?!” He stumbled onto the seat of the throne and clutched it tightly. Was this some kind of secret elevator? What had Junko used it for?
As the chair continued its descent, he began to recall how several out-of-order Monokumas had tried to attack him on his way in; their facial recognition scanners seemed to have failed. What could that luck mean now?
The elevator jolted to a stop with a soft clunk, the chair lowering into a small, dimly lit room. He could hear the faint hum of electricity buzzing overhead from the single ceiling light. Servant blinked against the dull glare and took a tentative step forward.
The room was oddly ordinary—a cramped lounge of sorts. Against one wall stood a mini fridge, its door slightly ajar and filled with cans long past their expiration. Nearby, a cluttered countertop held a cracked coffee maker and a sink stained from neglect. A sagging couch faced a tiny table littered with dust and a crumpled newspaper.
His eyes landed on the wall calendar hanging crookedly above the couch. The last marked day was the day the tragedy began. So no one had touched this place since then?
Curious, he turned back the months. Nothing was circled—just crossed-off squares. He almost dismissed it as irrelevant until a single date, roughly a year and four months before the tragedy, the 1st of September 2009, was encircled in bright red ink. Bold letters screamed, “Start Day!!” Start of what?
His fingers traced the paper absently as he searched for an end date. Flipping forward, he stopped—almost eight months ahead of the current date, the 1st of January 2013, with another circle marked “End Day!!” End of what, exactly?
He had the timeline now. But for what? And why here, beneath the trial room? Logically, Junko would’ve set this up, but he couldn’t connect her to it. He couldn’t understand how she was involved other than the fact that her throne had been the elevator down here. Her timeline for the tragedy and the killing game didn’t line up with this at all.
She had to be involved in some way. Maybe this was a side project that could fulfill itself in her absence?
He supposed it was time to try the door. To his irritation, it was locked. All that was left to investigate was the four-digit key code for the box on the wall. He thought it might be one of the circled dates on the calendar—‘01/09’ or ‘01/01’.
Knowing his luck, he’d probably get the correct one out of the two options, and the consequences could vary depending on what he found inside. He paused, wondering about his luck—it had been inconsistent lately.
In terms of how his luck had gone so far: first, there was the Medium-Level Bad Luck of being attacked by faulty Monokumas on the way into the school. Then came the Low-Level Bad Luck of tripping in the trial room—which resulted in the Unknown Luck of discovering the elevator.
This meant that getting the code right could be either good or bad luck. The same went for getting it wrong. Without getting inside the room, he wouldn’t be able to tell which.
Good luck if he got it wrong—and what was on the other side of the door was bad.
Bad luck if he got it wrong—and what was on the other side was good.
Good luck if he got it right—and what was on the other side was good.
Bad luck if he got it right—and what was on the other side was bad.
Because of the ambiguity of finding the elevator, the other side of the door being unknown, he really couldn’t tell. He was getting a headache from thinking about this.
He tried 0101.
Click. Hearing the box accept the code did nothing to ease his worries.
The box opened, revealing the key. Sure, the key was basically being shoved in his face, but did he really need to open it? He totally did… Maybe he should look around first.
He searched through the drawers and cabinets of the counters—nothing. Looked under the couch—nothing. He’d run out of ways to stall after checking the fridge for a false back or secret passageway.
He returned to the door with the key in hand and turned the lock, opening it. He was ready for something to jump out at him.
Nothing did. It was just another room—or it would’ve been, if not for the very conspicuous pod in the back right corner. Considering this was probably connected to Junko, whatever—or whoever—was in that pod was bad news.
The whole room gave him a bad feeling. It looked like a GP’s office.
There was an examination bed—he was very familiar with them—and a counter with drawers full of medical supplies: a heart rate monitor (BPM), thermometers, a respirometer, different types of needles and scalpels, an EEG, and even a small-scale X-ray machine.
He was familiar with most of the equipment.
It all seemed designed for monitoring rather than administering medicine. Even the needles were the kind used for drawing blood, not for giving vaccines or other fluids. Was this a place to monitor someone’s health?
He reached the top drawer, which was filled with documents—just what he was looking for. However, as he read, it became increasingly clear that Junko had almost nothing to do with this lab. None of the details mentioned her or suggested they were written or planned by her. In fact, it seemed entirely unrelated.
This place was meant to monitor an average person named Hajime Hinata and figure out what made him different from someone with talent. It was a study of talent by examining what made someone "untalented." It became clear that he was likely in the pod for that very monitoring.
The documents stated that Hinata was randomly picked from the Reserve Course and had agreed to spend over three years of his life as part of the study; he was to be monitored until his 19th birthday. He reached the page that detailed Hinata—a resume of sorts.
What?
(23/08/2009)
It was late August, just minutes after the home bell had rung. He was about to head home—he’d rejected the offer for on-campus accommodations after all. He’d probably burn down the dorms if he stayed.
He’d gotten a paper cut trying to pull his phone out of his bag. Holding his injured finger, he examined the cut and raised it to his mouth before pausing. His eyes drifted away, looking to the side.
There was someone looking at him. Time seemed to slow, and everything around him blurred. That person . What bright eyes… He felt himself become utterly captivated in one moment. They’d looked surprised for a moment, as if they didn’t expect him to notice them, before smiling softly at him, then everything went black.
He was later told that while looking off into the distance, he didn’t hear someone call ‘ball,’ and he was hit square on before falling into a fountain. He missed a week due to mild hypothermia and recovering from his head wound. There had been a party while he was away.
So much bad luck—all for just a few seconds of eye contact with… Hinata. And now, after being attacked by a bunch of Monokumas, he was seeing him again. It made him feel like even looking at him came at a great cost—as if he was lucky just to catch a glimpse.
Based on everything he’d seen and read so far, Hinata was inside the strange stasis pod in the back corner of the room. His mind felt foggy—desire and fear tangled together. What could the consequences of this be?
He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about Hinata. It was so irrational that he couldn’t even understand himself.
He looked over at the pod; the glass on top was so fogged that he couldn’t see inside at all. His cheeks flushed. He was desperate to know a random Reserve Course student he’d made eye contact with for just a few seconds years ago. How embarrassing.
It felt like his own heart had betrayed him—he despised the idea of love at first sight.
But… he couldn’t help being interested. After all, Hinata had agreed to miss over three years of his life to study talent. That had to be reason enough to want to know more, right? Love at first sight couldn’t be real anyway.
He was only interested because Hinata had made such a huge sacrifice. They had to be similar in some way—the level of admiration needed to make that sacrifice had to match how much he himself admired talent. Totally.
He debated with himself whether or not to open the pod. The evil, traitorous part of his brain really wanted to, but the other part said, “If we open it, wouldn’t we disturb the study?” That part was quickly defeated by, “Who would even be checking the results? There’s no one to stop us, so we might as well.”
He walked up to the pod. On its side was a keyhole labeled “Emergency Ejection.” Self-explanatory. It wouldn’t injure Hinata—hopefully. He tested the key he had used earlier, and to his surprise, the lid of the pod began to lift. He had expected a more complicated sequence for something like this.
He straightened up immediately. He hadn’t really expected it to work—it almost felt too easy. He heard the lid finish rising. He waited a couple of seconds, jittery. Would Hinata wake up before he did anything? Eventually, he peeked into the pod.
was Hinata? His hair had grown down to his ankles and was darker now. It pooled inside the pod. It looked strange on him. He was in a standard hospital gown, loose on his frame, exposing- ! …He pulled his eyes away from that and examined the medical devices attached to him.
He had an EEG strapped to his head—was the one in the drawer just a spare?—an IV in his arm, and a heart rate monitor on his wrist. There was a purifier, maybe, in the bottom corner of the pod.
He leaned in to peer more closely at the pod’s controls and, without meaning to, pressed a button. The pod hissed softly as mechanical arms extended from hidden compartments, moving with precise, practiced motions.
The arms began to detach the monitoring equipment—first the EEG sensors, then the heart rate strap. Last came the IV line, which required four arms just to handle it.
Hinata stirred slightly, his face scrunched slightly, but he didn’t fully wake.
It was cu- … He stood there for another minute, waiting to see if anything else would happen.
Nothing did. Hinata was just lying there, still asleep. Should he try to get him out?
He had leaned over, attempting to get a hold on him. It was rather difficult, considering his left hand was useless.
He’d managed to get a good grasp on him, and he’d gotten him almost entirely out of the pod before his questionable strength failed, and he dropped him.
He was definitely awake now—except he was still limp. His head hung forward as he lay against the wall.
He blinked—and then Hinata was looking at him. He’d sat up properly and was leaning forward, his head craned at an awkward angle just to see him.
“Who are you?”
Well, it was clear Hinata didn’t recognize him…
“My name? It’s not important…” He chuckled sheepishly. He mostly just wanted to ask about Hinata.
“Who are you?” Hinata repeated, same tone as before, staring at him without blinking. He didn’t even sound accusatory—just curious.
It left him a little unnerved.
“Ah… You can just call me Servant, if you want…” He wasn’t technically serving anyone directly, but he would—if he ever met someone hopeful enough. Like Makoto.
Hinata narrowed his eyes slightly. “Where am I?”
Hadn’t he signed up for the project? Shouldn’t he recognize this room?
“A secret lab under the Old School Building at Hope’s Peak.” Maybe that would jog his memory?
“What’s Hope’s Peak? What’s the Old School Building? What is the purpose of the secret lab? Why am I here?” Hinata kept asking, same unblinking tone as before.
He should’ve known the answers to those questions… Amnesia?
“Ah-ah-ah! It’s my turn to ask a question! In fact, I get to ask two!” He wagged his finger at Hinata, like he was scolding him—”Bad boy!”. This way, it’d be easier to get information out of him.
“Who are you?” He’d mostly known who Hinata was—at least, who had been listed in his file. The question had only been to test whether Hinata remembered who he was: his name, age, and so on.
Hinata opened his mouth to speak before promptly closing it. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze wandered to the side… was he pouting…? He looked nervous. His hands shifted on his lap.
“I don’t remember…” His name or anything? Hinata glanced down at his hospital robes.
“Call me Patient?”
Ahh, he’d found himself in a bad situation. He’d technically deceived Hinata to find something out. How was he going to tell him that he already knew his name and the details of why he was here? Maybe he should just let Hinata find the documents.
“Mhm! Do you remember anything about yourself?” He knew it was a long shot, but there was a chance that all Hinata had forgotten was his name.
Hinata looked down again and seemed to think for a second before saying, “No…” He seemed rather embarrassed by his memory loss.
“Not specific enough, Patient! Is it the type of amnesia where you remember some things, or is it ALL gone?” He pointed at Hinata, who looked at him shamefully, before frowning to himself, his eyebrows furrowed.
“I only remember my birthdate and sex, everything else is gone…”
He knew how old Hinata was; according to his DOB on the resume, he should be about eighteen years and nine months old, a bit younger than him.
“Ah. It’s my turn now. What’s Hope’s Peak?”
“An esteemed academy for those who are the top in any field to attend.”
“What’s the Old School Building?”
“Exactly what it sounds like! It’s the Old School Building from before the students were transferred to the East Quarter. It’s where the- ah… Never mind that last bit.” He probably didn’t need to mention the killing game. Hinata looked exceedingly curious as he cut himself off.
“What is the purpose of the secret lab?”
“I think it was just to monitor your vitals over a period of three years and three months. I found some documents earlier talking about it, and you were selected to participate. It’s a study of the untalented to better understand talent.”
Hinata may have been asking extra questions, but he didn’t really have anything else to ask. Setting up a turns system just to give up after two questions was just like him after all!
If he did have more questions later, he could just guilt Hinata over all his extra questions.
“If the documents you read earlier included why I was here, to be a patient, would they not include my identification? How did you get in here, as well? You appear to be around my age, so you shouldn't be personnel.” Hinata’s eyes seemed so much clearer now, as opposed to the unfocused look from before. He felt like he was being seen through.
… Well. He was surprised, to say the least. No point in lying.
“You’re right, I’m not personnel, and I’m only a bit older than you. To be honest, I was just looking around and found this area, and I guessed the code to get the keys too. The documents did have your name, DOB, and what class you were in, but that’s about it.” He felt a flicker of embarrassment at being called out like this. He hadn’t outright lied to Hinata, at least.
“Is this lab still running? It seems unlikely you’d be able to get in here if it were, and where are the documents containing my information?” Hinata didn’t seem offended that he’d withheld details; it was more like he’d already figured out why—and didn’t care.
“I wouldn’t say that the lab is still running; it’s been a while since anyone’s been down here. The calendar in the room behind us hasn’t been marked off in around a year and four months. The documents are in that drawer.” He pointed to the top drawer, which was still slightly open.
Hinata glanced at it before standing to go over to it. He stumbled, likely from not walking in over two and a half years, and fell into him. He was now holding Hinata in his arms. It was rather…
Hinata was barely shorter than him, but his knees had buckled, making a large difference. Hinata’s face was squished against his chest.
“Ah… Sorry.” Hinata pulled away and stumbled to the drawers.
He stayed where he was and waited for Hinata to finish reading.
“Hinata Hajime…? That doesn’t sound right…” Hinata muttered to himself as he looked over the documents. He wore a troubled expression. “Everything else seems right…”
Hinata walked back over to him, holding the documents. “Uhm, are you sure these aren’t fabricated? I don’t really think that the name is correct.” He felt a bit confused; was Hinata not really his name?
“It’s just that… I can identify the age and other details belonging to me, but I can’t connect the name to myself.” The name felt foreign to him?
“You don’t think your name is Hajime Hinata? I suppose it’s common enough that it could just be an alias.” He couldn’t really say because he didn’t know him, but Hajime Hinata didn’t feel like it fit the person in front of him.
“Yeah. Just keep calling me Patient.” Patient seemed to become disinterested in the conversation.
The silence between them stretched until Patient finally broke it.
“Where are you going?” he asked, nervously…?
Servant hesitated, then replied, “Towa City.”
Patient blinked. “Towa City?”
“Mhm! It’s a bit far. But…” Servant shrugged. “Want to come with me? Since you-”
Before he’d even finished, “Can I come?”
They both spoke at once.
“Oh.”
“It’s three months on foot though…”
“Yes?” Patient didn’t seem to understand the problem.
“Shouldn’t you cut your hair? I could do it for you.”
“It’s not in the way.”
(22/05/2012: 1)
“Servant, it’s getting in the way.”
Patient stood before him, holding his hair up so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. It had grown around ten centimeters in less than two weeks.
“…” “You want me to cut it for you?”
“Yes, please.”
He sat down to cut Patient’s hair. As he did, his mind drifted back to when he first met him.
(11/05/2012: 2)
“All right then, if you say so!”
Patient was saying that it wasn’t getting in the way. But that was right now; following logic, it wouldn’t be long before his hair was actually dragging on the ground.
“Do you want to go now, Patient?”
Patient glanced around the room before nodding.
As they made their way out of the room, he turned back to look at the documents left on top of the drawers.
“You don’t want to take your resume or anything?” It was Patient’s only connection to his past besides this lab, which he’d already agreed to leave.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess I’ll grab them.” He waited at the doorway before realizing he should get the keys from the pod.
Once they’d actually left the lab and entered the lounge, Patient stared at the Monokuma throne with evident disgust. He’d glanced around the room before his eyes settled on the obnoxious object.
“What is that? It’s so… tacky.”
“The elevator out of here.”
“Why does it look like that?”
“Ah… I don’t know why the creator decided to use such… ugly decorations for it, but it is in line with her usual style.” Everything about her was despair-inducing.
“…”
They got on the chair, Patient sitting on it awkwardly. He had to stand on the first step and lean over Patient to get to the button.
“Why is the button on the bottom of the chair?”
“I think it was to hide it?”
Once they’d ascended back to the trial room, Patient let out the most despaired sound known to man.
“More-!?”
Patient seemed to desperately want to escape the poorly decorated room.
They’d reached the outside of the Old School Building and within 0.2 seconds, Patient asked, “Servant, why is the sky red?”
“Oh, it’s pollution. You actually can’t breathe for too long out here; you either have to use a mask that can filter the air or take frequent breaks. I have a mask,” he held up a gas mask, it worked well enough. “In fact, I have two; the second was a spare, but now that we’re travelling together, it’s definitely good luck that I had it!”
If he didn’t have the second mask, their journey time would be significantly lengthened—having to take a ten-minute break every ten minutes would double the time spent.
Naturally, the disadvantage of the mask was that he wasn’t safe from Monokumas; they couldn’t use facial recognition on a gas mask after all.
The typical response would have been to remove his mask the second he saw one. The problem with that was they were unfortunately very fast, and he’d likely already be getting mauled by the time he tried to remove it.
It was fine. Probably.
(22/05/2012: 2)
“All done!” He showed Patient his reflection in one of the few windows that weren’t broken.
“It looks like my photo on the resume… You even kept the weird thing on the top.”
How observant. It would’ve felt wrong to cut it off…
He really did look like Hinata now. More correctly, “Hinata’s” Photo, and the “Hinata” he’d seen before.
(23/05/2012: 1)
He’d been worried about travelling with Patient. Patient didn’t have protection from any Monokumas; even if he removed his gas mask, it’d probably make it easier for him to get mauled.
He debated taking longer routes that had fewer Monokumas. They were walking and talking about something random—probably small talk, judging by his thoughts.
He’d already told Patient about the Monokumas.
If you see some weird half-white, half-black bear with a weird red eye, tell me. If it’s heading your way, run.
Why?
They’re Monokumas and they were created specifically to maul and destroy, so if one’s heading to you, it’s planning murder.
He was hoping Patient would take his advice and run if he saw one. He was disproven when, in the middle of their conversation, a Monokuma appeared and started charging toward Patient.
He reached out to grab Patient’s wrist, and in that moment the Monokuma blurred backward.
He heard a loud crash and saw a crater in the wall of an abandoned store. Seconds later, the Monokuma in the crater exploded.
Did Patient…? No way. It wasn’t possible. He turned to look at him.
“What is it?” Why was he being so normal about this?
“Y-you just killed a Monokuma…” He was gaping at him.
“Yeah.”
“…”
“Uh… Sorry? I didn’t think you’d be able to outrun it at the speed it was going, so I kicked it…”
His worry was almost entirely dispelled, replaced by utter shock. Not that long ago, Patient had been stumbling around the lab. Now he was kicking Monokumas 14 feet airborne and making craters in concrete.
Patient was kinda scary…
(24/05/2012: 1)
He’d realised something.
Patient was in… rather impractical clothes for three months of travel. He hadn’t looked before, but he didn’t even have shoes on.
Patient was constantly trying to fix his hospital robe; walking around made it keep coming loose. Very inconvenient and-
Patient’s clothes technically were a problem. They didn’t look warm, and he was constantly stopping to fix them. They weren’t practical for travel, especially since he didn’t have shoes on. Servant also didn’t like finding himself distracted so often.
“Shouldn’t we go find you more suitable clothes?” he asked after Patient stopped to fix the robes again .
“Ah, I was just gonna deal with it because I didn’t want to force a detour on you…” At this point, a detour would be faster. If they visited a clothing store, there should be bags too.
They had some items with them that were annoying to carry; he’d become frustrated after losing another can of food over a bridge.
“We need bags anyway; it’ll be more convenient if we get you some actual clothing and shoes at the same time.”
Patient nodded in agreement. They’d probably find a store if they walked around enough.
…
“Servant.” He stopped and turned to Patient. He was pointing at a store that still seemed like it was in good condition—in fact, the lock on the door was still secure and undamaged.
Perfect.
All they had to do was pick the lock, he thought—seconds before Hinata picked up a brick and bashed the door’s lock to pieces.
Yet again, he found himself agape at Patient’s actions. The door creaked open.
The interior of the store was consistent with the condition of the door—it looked untouched. Very convenient. What wasn’t convenient was that it was a high-end store. Not a high-end athletic wear store, but one for… formal attire?
At the very least, it was a store for men’s clothing. It would’ve been rather unlucky if they’d found a women’s store, particularly the type that only had dresses—was it called a boutique?
He was off track. Suits offered more coverage, but they would probably restrict Patient’s movements more. Actually, if they got one in the right material, it could work.
Patient didn’t seem bothered that the store’s clothing wasn’t exactly what they were looking for.
“We should probably get multiple sets of clothing. Do you want to go get the bags?” He was already used to Patient’s stoic attitude.
“Sure.”
He walked over to where they had bags and immediately grabbed the biggest two. They were messenger bags, not particularly large but they’d work.
He started putting all the items they’d been carrying into the two bags: canned food, water bottles, scissors, a crowbar (it stuck out of the bag a little), medical supplies, the spare clothes they’d already obtained (no major articles of clothing, just things like socks from convenience stores), and even a bar of soap (it was in some weird little container for protection; Patient insisted).
By the time he’d finished putting everything in the bags, Patient was already done collecting clothes and had changed. He was in a simple black suit, with a tie too. The jacket was loose to the degree that it looked almost like a cardigan; he hadn’t bothered buttoning it.
He had loafers on. “These were the most comfortable shoes they had; ideally, sneakers would be better.” Patient kept reading his mind…
He was holding other articles of clothing that would probably fit both of them, and his old robes from the lab.
“What do you wanna do with those?” he gestured at the robes.
“Ah… Despite how inconvenient they are for walking, they are comfortable. They’d probably work for sleeping.”
He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing him in those robes again…
They made their way out of the store, putting their gas masks back on.
(25/05/2012: 1)
He woke up to find Patient staring at him. This was normal. Patient always woke up earlier than him. What was not normal was that Patient’s left eye was red.
“Huh?” He blinked.
“What is it, Servant?”
He couldn’t think of any logical explanation. Why was his eye red? If it were despair, wouldn’t both of his eyes be red? Was it slowly spreading from being with him? Was that why it was only one eye? Patient didn’t seem particularly inclined toward hope or despair?
“You- Your eye…” He pointed at it.
“What about it?” Pointing at his eye wasn’t exactly going to tell him that it was red.
“It’s red.”
“What?”
“Your eye is red.”
“…”
Patient looked at him with an expression of mild confusion. “It is?” He nodded. Patient reached his hand to his eye before pausing; a physical examination wouldn’t confirm anything.
“That’s weird.” Upon closer inspection, Patient’s eyes had a different pattern in them too; it was akin to a target radar.
They had a broken shard of glass from a mirror; it still had its backing. He reached for the messenger bag it was in. Why was it that whenever he needed to get something from these bags, it was always at the bottom?
He eventually got it and handed it to Patient. Seeing his eyebrows raise slightly at his own reflection was kind of funny.
“That’s really weird.”
They decided to go over the documents again to see if they mentioned anything relating to spontaneous eye color changes.
It was to be expected, but they didn’t. Maybe it was genetics?
He knew that eyes could change colour at points during someone’s life, typically only once and when they were younger. However, he was pretty sure heterochromia was something you had from birth.
“Servant. Servant. Servant.” He snapped out of his thoughts and looked to see Patient tugging on his shirt’s hem, repeating his name.
“Ah. Yeah?”
“I’m bored of thinking about my eye. Can we go do something else?” He wasn’t sure what else there was to do besides keep walking to Towa.
“Oh. Sure.”
“?!”
(15/06/2012: 1)
They’d been talking while on their way to Towa, and he’d said something along the lines of, “I don’t know why Patient’s still hanging around me, I’m human garbage after all?” He was met with sudden silence.
Patient shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking away for a moment.
“You’re… the only person I know,” he said quietly. “The first person I’ve ever met… that I can actually remember.”
He swallowed, cheeks flushing faintly. “And, well… you seem to know a lot. About things. And quit saying you’re trash, I wouldn’t be travelling with you if you were.”
He became embarrassed.
“So, you’re like a baby duck imprinting on the first being it sees?” He chuckled. Patient was so cute. He aptly chose to ignore Patient saying he wasn’t trash.
“Knock it off.” Patient huffed, lightly punching him on the arm.
“Owww, you’re so mean to me, Patient!” It didn’t even hurt; he was playing it up for a - joke? Maybe he wanted Patient to feel a little guilty…
Patient looked off to the side before muttering a “Sorry…” under his breath.
He didn’t expect him to actually apologise; he felt a bit guilty then. Patient was too kind to him.
They’d hit their next rest point early. Maybe it was because, after apologising, Patient had stayed silent the entire walk and sped up his pace.
He’d attempted to talk to him, but he looked deep in thought.
After they’d finished unpacking and setting up where they’d sleep, Patient grabbed his shoulders and stared directly into his eyes.
“I have something to tell you.”
He was initially very curious.
His curiosity died out when Patient began to explain in detail to him every single thing he’d done for him and all of his ‘good’ attributes. He went as far as to say that he’d be dead without him.
That was definitely a lie; he saw how that Monokuma flew.
“Servant, I have absolutely zero idea as to why you think so lowly of yourself. So, I have a question.”
“Uh… Go on…” He was flustered after being complimented for fifteen minutes straight.
“Do you value me and my opinion?”
He didn’t expect that.
“Uhm… I- I value your opinion… -! Ah! And you!” Getting so attached to him was scary.
“All right. In my opinion, which you value, you’re not garbage. You’re a cool guy. Stop saying stuff like that.”
He appreciated that Patient was trying, but it was exceedingly unlikely that this conversation was going to significantly change his ideals or view of himself.
“To enforce this, any time you say something self-deprecating, I will spend 5 minutes listing all of your good attributes and complimenting you.”
Oh God.
(18/08/2012: 1)
They’d been captured.
Moments after setting foot in Towa, they’d been knocked unconscious and had woken up in separate rooms.
They’d both managed to make their way to the main hall. He’d gotten lucky finding it as he was mostly just wandering around, wondering where he was. He’d made use of the fact that the Monokumas in Towa still had the same basic facial identification for the remnants of despair. Patient, however…
He’d probably beaten all the Monokumas on the path with brute force.
If one of the Warriors of Hope—he now knew their name—had a connection to whoever was manufacturing the Monokumas, they’d probably know that he was a remnant of despair.
The official leader was some red-haired boy. He was very temperamental. He doubted that his status as leader was anything besides superficial.
He suspected that the girl in the wheelchair was the actual leader, as she seemed to make all the decisions. Not to mention that the red-haired kid had been elected by rock-paper-scissors.
They’d mentioned something about a demon-hunting game and were particularly excited about sending Patient down there.
He was mostly an afterthought. “I guess we can send the other one down there too…”
He’d managed to get them not to kill both of them with continuous begging. Patient stood there silently; it was quite obvious that he simply wanted to beat up the obnoxious children.
They were to be servants to the ‘Warriors of Hope.’
He’d blathered on about how they made up for each other's weaknesses and how more servants were better than fewer. He would be in a bad situation if they chose to have only him as a servant and send Patient down to be hunted, by himself.
When the topic of names came up, he introduced both of them.
The pink-haired girl judged them severely. “Patient? Servant? Hmph. So uncute… Servant works but Patient doesn’t make any sense!”
“Ah, well, Patient has amnesia, he can’t remember his life at all except the past three months. He’s even forgotten his own name! He picked up that name Patient because I found him in a hospital gown.”
Seeing as he’d ditched the hospital robes and was now wearing a suit, his identity as a patient wasn’t exactly obvious.
They’d ended up being assigned a room in some corner. A room. They were staying in the same room. No problem.
Then he actually saw the room.
One-
One bed.
He-
It. It seemed big enough to fit both of them. There wouldn’t be spare space, however. They’d be close… He knew that getting something above a single was already pretty good, considering they were servants.
He just hadn’t considered that there’d only be one bed.
Maybe he’d just sleep on the floor…
The worst part of all of it was that Patient didn’t seem disturbed at all. The first thing he’d done was dib the left side of the bed. “It’s facing the door.” Ever the logical one.
He’d even patted the bed. “Come on, Servant.”
Patient was going to kill him like this.
They’d been allowed to rest on the first day because they’d travelled a while and would be, “Useless, if you guys can’t even walk anymore then you won’t be able to serve us! So go sleep first!”
He’d sat on the very corner of the bed, right side of course. Distance was fine.
Distance was fin-
Hinata was behind him, had his hands on his shoulders, and was whispering in his ear.
…
(25/08/2012: 1)
They’d been sitting in their room waiting to be summoned when he noticed Patient observing him intently.
Patient tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied him. “Have your eyes always been grey?”
“They’re back to grey?”
His eyes had been red when he was fully in despair. It had happened to all of his classmates. They were probably back to grey since he was actively going against despair now. It could also have something to do with Towa.
Interestingly enough, the skies were blue when he got there, and there hadn’t been Monokumas anywhere but the weird floating castle thing on top of Towa Hills, where he was currently staying.
“Back to? Were your eyes grey before?”
“Yeah. It’s my natural eye colour.”
“Oh. Before you kinda looked like a vampire.”
“You’re one to talk.” Both of his eyes may have been red, but Patient’s had this weird target symbol in it that made it seem like he was aiming to open fire every time he looked his way.
Patient’s hair looked darker too. If both of his eyes were red, he’d be the one who looked like a vampire.
Patient seemed to become disinterested again and went back to laying down. He was about to leave—he’d gotten as far as standing up—when he was yanked back down to the bed.
“They didn’t say we were supposed to go see if there was anything they wanted,” Patient’s arms snaked further around him, “just wait here with me.”
Patient had way too much influence over him…
“Fine…”
(01/01/2013: 1)
He’d woken up early. Earlier than Patient, for once.
Patient’s hair had seemed to have been growing faster recently. He’d been cutting it more often to make up for it, until Patient had no choice but to let it grow when Kotoko-chan stole the scissors… It hung nearly to his ankles again. It had gotten darker too, almost black.
He stepped out quietly. Today was important.
According to what he’d overheard, the Future Foundation planned to ‘rescue’ the hostages in the apartments. He was especially curious about Komaru Naegi—the Ultimate Hope’s little sister.
Monaca had mentioned her in passing, and he had to agree: she’d make a perfect Ultimate Despair.
A battle between siblings. Hope vs. Despair. How poetic.
He considered that she’d likely need help becoming the Ultimate Despair. After a year and a half trapped inside with no contact with the outside world, she was hardly ready to carry any Ultimate title.
He’d meant to observe the events of the day alone, appear when he needed to. But he’d ended up remembering that it was Patient’s birthday; he thought it might be nice to bring Patient along—it could make a half-decent birthday present.
Ah, but Patient wasn’t exactly one to care about hope and despair. He could cook him something? … That might be more of a punishment than a present. He wasn’t really used to celebrating birthdays.
When he returned to their room, Patient was awake.
He was hunched forward on the bed, clutching his head in both hands. His breath came in short, ragged bursts.
“Patient…?” Did he have a headache? Maybe he should get him some water.
Patient’s head snapped up. Both of his eyes were red.