♡ᏦᝪᏦᏆᑕᕼᏆ ᙭ ᑎᗩᏀᏆᎢᝪ♡

●Two●

(I'm back, thanks ya'll-)

And so here our story begins. If you're here, you're most likely aware of the setting, either that, or it will most certainly be recognisable to you. Hope's Peak. In this world, there was no Junko Enoshima the Ultimate despair- merely Junko Enoshima the Ultima Fashionista. In this world, the Kamukura project was indeed a success, however he was sent to future foundation for constant monitoring of sorts.. Right now, Hajime was Hajime. No Ultimate Hope. Merely a sleeping ex-reserve-course boy. But this story isn't about him, at least not entirely. Even if it were, you aren't here for him. So why not skip all of this? Skip it all to what you so desparately wish to read? To see? To immerse your minds and hearts in? Come now.. I shall do just that.. after all, as the author, I live to serve your expectations in a satisfactory manner..

That night, Komaeda could not sleep. For how could he? The dreams purged his mind as if they possessed predatory instincts. He was no stranger to being 'prey', of course. However this time it bothered him. Ah... I suppose predatory isn't a suitable word for the type of dream it was.. nor is purged.. allow me to rephrase. The dreams sat in his mind, unmoving. They were vague and possessed no explicit meaning. But Komaeda knew there was something more. Call it merely a hunch, a simple gut instinct however, as the Ultimate Lucky student, you must take such feelings with thought. He reached up and ruffled his entanglement of white he called hair.
"Ahaha.... 4? That has to be the longest i've slept in years... how nice.."
He spoke with his usual raspy time. He sat there for a few moments, his breaths whistling like those of a man on his death bed.. which, he didn't mind such a thing being true. But it wasn't. He heaved in some breaths and pushed his legs to the edge of the bed. Komaeda was a rather sickly boy. Though he managed to scrape through life with his scarce good luck, he remained ill. For, if he was cured, it would be a miracle. And such things do not exist. At least not for Nagito Komaeda. He yawned, most likely to make up for his current lack of oxygen intake as he stood. Once more, checking the time, he supposed he should begin his morning routine. He always did like having some time to his own thoughts before dragging himself to the crowded, noisy mess of an educational building known as school. He didn't even consider it educational by any means. It was merely a way for children of all ages to build their own, minature social heirarchy to mimic those of the outside world. Where the strong, athletic, healthy thrive and anyone else is either left to watch on the sidelines or forced to thrive of scraps of human decency. It was a twisted place and, no matter how much Komaeda wished to, he could not escape it. It didn't help that he was one of the lowest on said heirarchy. He wasn't athletic, nor strong, nor healthy by any means. He didn't even look good. It merely made life hard for the pale boy and his slowly deteriorating health. Both mentally and physically. He let out an exasperated sigh as he began running the tap to his bath.

'What...' he wondered, '...could the unfortunate soulmate of mine be doing..?' But alas, such answers were to be revealed in the next entry.

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•°♡ Swanta, signing out.