 Naegi calmed down enough to address the last person in the room.
There was no answer. Another minute passed, and Komaeda finally unfurled. His spine went first, straightening out even as its owner failed to account for the changing center of gravity, and toppled onto his side. His hands were next, fingers extending and spreading until they resembled fans. Empty eyes positioned over hollow cheeks stared straight ahead.
Naegi considered that. He had meant every word he said in Komaeda’s defense. He hated what Komaeda had done to him, what he was doing... He wanted... he wanted to understand. He wanted to understand Komaeda, why he did the insane things he did, why he felt the need to do this. Because if he did, he could work with Komaeda. They wouldn’t need to be foes, because he... he didn’t think Komaeda was a bad person.
His own conclusion was a bit of a shock. But it was true. For all the silent resent Naegi had carried with him, he didn’t think Komaeda was actually a bad person inside. Just... confused.

Naegi’s request was greeted with gales of hysterical, fragmented laughter.
The laugher stopped. Komaeda’s haunted eyes sunk into their sockets.
He exploded onto his feet, nearly pushing past Naegi in his mad rush for the door. He was gone before there was any chance of talking to him, or following him out.
It’d been over a day since Naegi had a real conversation with someone. Yesterday’s mess between Kamukura and Komaeda had left him exhausted. He’d taken a nap shortly after, and woken later to find dinner waiting on the desk. He saw no one else the rest of the day.
The next morning, Komaeda had shown up with food like usual, but the usually energetic boy was reluctant to speak. He answered Naegi with downtrodden, simple words, and shied away from the younger Luckster like a dog being faced with a rolled-up newspaper. It happened again at lunch and dinner, until Naegi was feeling guilty for Komaeda’s behaviour –even though he knew this had everything to do with what happened with Kamukura and the photo.
He ended up killing time by listlessly wandering around and checking the walls for nonexistent weaknesses. Once there was absolutely no doubt that these walls had not been built with escape in mind, he slumped against one and thought about nothing. The steady ticking of the little clock became a background drone. He wanted to sleep, but couldn’t bring himself to start walking. Finally, he mustered up enough willpower to move, and crawled into bed. He rolled over, turning his back to his half-eaten dinner.
He slept uneasily, waking several times during the night. The last time he did, he awoke freezing and shivering, and he realized he was covered in sweat. He took a shower, but even the hot water failed to warm him. There was a new sort of anxiety consuming him from the inside out.
He poked at the salvaged Monokuma paw after that and to his horror, found that the bear’s sharp claws had not been removed. He immediately hid the paw under his bed – those things were dangerous – and did his best to forget it was there.
When Komaeda came in with breakfast the morning after, it was eight in the morning. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the sight of Naegi lying on his back on the carpet. Naegi mostly ignored him – until he saw Komaeda was smiling.
“Komaeda-kun!” Naegi scrambled up to a sitting position.
“Morning!” the other boy said cheerfully. He was wearing his familiar, warm smile. There was no trace of the misery that had haunted him yesterday. With this return to familiar ground, Naegi couldn’t help but smile back.
A... what?
The more Komaeda spoke, the more out of breath he became. He hunched over at the waist, shaking, arms wrapped around his stomach as if in pain. With his breathlessness came that wheezy laughter. This time however, it wasn’t scary. It was pitiful.
“That’s terrible,” Naegi said.
Komaeda’s laughter grew steadily in pitch, until his voice cracked and fizzled out to nothing.
Komaeda’s smile was not whole, but more like a crack formed from years of pressure. Was this really how he thought? If he did, then that explained a bit, right? Naegi looked at him now, and saw not someone who was insane or malicious. Just broken.
Naegi reached out. His hand stopped halfway. Could he really do this, even after everything the other boy had done?
He looked at Komaeda’s shrivelled form.
He reached out, and squeezed Komaeda’s shoulder.
The office’s dim lights made the old man look weaker than he was. Deep wrinkles accented his age, and the desk he sat at could have just as easily been there for support rather than status. As if further attempting to illustrate the old man’s maturity, a much younger man stood at his side. In a word, the younger man looked sharp; a strong chin formed the foundation of a slender face with long, slanted eyes. Pale skin, silver hair, and ironed, light-coloured clothing banded together for a powerful message: this was not a man who should be taken lightly.
There was one other in the room. This man lingered not close to the others, but leaned against another wall instead. A white fedora sat atop his light brown hair. His relaxed demeanour was a stark contrast to the other two, and he remained that way even after a knock at the door.
The fedora-wearing man walked over to the door, and opened it. Purple eyes greeted him. He smiled at the girl who did not smile back, and moved aside to grant her entry.
Five entered the office. They were directed to five waiting chairs lined up in a small arc before the old man and his desk. The purple-haired girl claimed the center seat (to the dismay of her blond comrade), and the other four positioned themselves around her.
Kizakura seemed to find that answer amusing. Perhaps for the good of the conversation, the old man chose to speak again.
The mention of that title had an immediate effect on the students. Kirigiri’s already emotionless expression turned rock-hard. Togami’s jaw tightened. Hagakure cleared his throat, staring at the wall. Fukawa bit her lip and wrung her hands together while Asahina glanced at her fellow classmates nervously.
“W-we all know why you w-wanted to talk to us.” Fukawa spoke in a tone that was both a whisper and a hiss.
“Retrieving him was your primary goal, correct?” Kirigiri phrased that as a question, but it was obvious she didn’t need it answered.
“Naegi Makoto is the one responsible for the fall of the Ultimate Despair.” For the first time, Munakata had spoken, and his powerful voice sliced through the room like a knife.
“If he was so important, then why did you wait so long to find us?” Togami demanded.
“One person paralyzed your entire organization,” Kirigiri repeated doubtfully.
“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Hagakure said, trying to give Asahina a thumbs-up.
“Th-that’s because it’s your fault, idiot!” Fukawa spat.
“You were supposed to stay within arm’s reach of each other,” Kirigiri said through gritted teeth.
“What did this person look like?” Munakata asked right away.
The three adults in the room exchanged looks, something that was not unnoticed by Kirigiri and Togami.
“What next?” Munakata said.
A mournful silence followed her words. Kirigiri had never been one to express much emotion, but if one looked, they would have seen her hands balled into fists.
“You lost them?” Munakata prompted.
“You lost the kid due to bad luck then, huh?” Kizakura sighed. He lowered his fedora, hiding his eyes.
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Munakata answered.
Four of the five students shook their heads. One, however, did not. Fukawa bit her lower lip nervously. Her face slowly heated up from nerves.
Munakata tossed the powder in her face.
It was immediate.
“What exactly did you see?” Togami demanded.
Silence followed as the implications of the Genocider’s story were understood.
Munakata and Tengan exchanged a look.
“Komaeda Nagito is a known member of Ultimate Despair,” was all Munakata said.
Asahina bowed her head again, tears streaking down her cheeks. They all knew the likely fate of those taken by Despair.
“How probable is that?” Kirigiri asked quietly.
Despite his determination to get out of here, Naegi found himself falling into a routine. Every morning, he woke about an hour before Komaeda would arrive with breakfast. He killed time by cleaning himself up and deciding what