Remember Me || Kamukoma

Ch | I

(Trying something new for once, it will be gruesome! I think?)
(Also I came back? Yay?)

Breathing heavily Nagito tried to regain oxygen, the gas mask is getting beaten up meaning more poisonous gas enters his lungs. Already Nagito has been coughing for the past week, the apocalypse was unforgivable and merciless.

"How about we take turns? I think my lungs will collapse any minute."

"Boohoo, just deal with. Lower peasants like you don't deserve such treatment."

Nagito has smiled, laughing at himself for thinking such a thing. They were right, he was at the lowest class in the pyramid. The ones that are tossed around and tolerated, for the most part. Nagito just simply place the gas mask on and made his way back outside, a five minute break was more than enough.

Once outside he instantly felt the effect, how it is slowly destroying his lungs, burning a throat and eyes. When he was outside Nagito likes to pass the time by guessing the gas that was in the air. Back at school he liked chemistry, he loved the elements and memorized all of them.

"Ooo, mustard gas. Must be a battle out here, better be more careful--"

Before finishing Nagito began to cough, his throat become dried, he needed water though because of the apocalypse water because impossible to find. Besides he only drinks water every three days, the higher ups drink on the daily. Reason is he was just less important.

Dragging along Nagito searched for material and scraps, to expand the warehouse where he lived in for months. He lived with three other people, all sharing a room. Just like him there were the lower class.

Nagito hurried along, the more he stayed out there the more he put his life on the line...which made him go slower unconsciously. The reason behind the apocalypse was from a bored highschool student named Junko Enoshima who thought it would be a good idea to spread despair. Causing mayhem.

Though Nagito hated despair, he always thought there was hope for everything and it was going to end of this despair but he knew it would soon engulf him. His vision became red, it was either the mustard gas burning his eyes or the despair.

Nagito smiled through his mask, chuckling. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to take off the mask, as he reached for the buckles behind his head he stopped when he heard screaming and crying.

And yet Nagito didn't know why he stopped, screaming of terror and crying weren't new things, they were a daily occurrence in the apocalypse. Though he slowly made his way to where the sound was coming from.

As he got more close he heard crunching, most likely bones and flesh being torn up. The sound made Nagito sick but he kept going, turning a corner he quickly stepped back as he saw a figure on top of what he presume the one crying of agony.

Peeking over he could see the back of the person.

"Such beautiful long black hair, looks so soft..."

Realizing he said it out loud he scooted away, completely hiding behind the wooden wall. Waiting for a few minutes Nagito turned back and still saw the person, besides their hair he saw they was holding something.

Though it didn't resemble any weapon, but instead a rock. That was covered in blood, a pool of crimson. Nagito couldn't help but be in awe he was fascinated by the person.

Nagito soon notice the blood spatter, he could only think of it as art. It was a beautiful image, and the artist was right there, only for long before they dropped the rock and walked away.

When the coast was clear Nagito made his way to the corpse, it wasn't recognizable. It was as if it was never human, Nagito eyed the rock, the tool that was used to create such a masterpiece. Careful as if it was treasure Nagito wrapped it in cloth, he held it close to him.

"Did you do that?"

Surprised Nagito quickly turn around only to find a higher up, who is actually the only friend he has. Chiaki, who stared at the body only inches away.

"Huh? Ah no, obviously not. I could never make such a beautiful piece of art."

"Art?"

"Yes of course, the style, the finesse it resembles fine art. Don't you see it?"

"...no, I don't. I think you've been here for too long, that busted up mask doesn't seem like it has a good filter."

"Oh I forgot we're outside."

"Let's just get back inside... what's that thing you're clutching? Something important?"

"Well yes, for me. Maybe not for you."

Chiaki just slowly nodded before walking back to the warehouse, Nagito followed in a joyous mood. He was on a mission to find the artist, who painted in blood.

Once back inside Nagito took off the gas mask and hurried to his room, luckily was the only one there. He found a good hiding spot to put the rock, just in time before someone barged into the room.

A higher up, the mean one Nagito calls them.

"Nagito! Where are the materials?

"Huh? Materials?"

"Well what have you been doing outside for the past hour?"

"Oh just admiring art is all!"

"Art? All the art museums probably been destroyed, god you're so useless. Can't believe we're wasting resources on you."

Nagito just smiled and listen as the higher up rambled on, it was more or less a routine now.

"It's almost nights out, how about you continue this tomorrow?"

He was right, so the higher up has no choice but to leave. At least Nagito won that conversation, looking at the rock one more time he walked to his bed, if you can call it that. It was only cardboard really. But it was manageable.

Nagito smiled happily as he closed his eyes, an unsettling warmth consume him. A sign of being effected, despair. Maybe it was too late, Nagito couldn't fight off of what he hated the most.

Now he really needed to find the artist, the time was ticking for his soon death.
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Word count : 1032