A Future to Call Our Own

Prologue

Prologue

It's been months now. There's been no change in anyone's conditions. All of our friends that were once with us . . . though they were avatars, the simulation felt so real.
I'm not sure how much this hope can last. This hope that someday soon our friends will return to us. No, I believe in us! I believe in the Future Foundation and in the rest of us who have decided to stay here to rise hope on this island.
But . . . as I'm looking down into this face I never knew the truth from that whole time in the program, I could feel that hope falter that nobody would wake up. I didn't want to believe that they were in a coma, that they were in this state for months and possibly more months to come. In all honesty, I was terrified. Fuyuhiko's retreated to his cabin for a long time now. We haven't seen him for about two weeks. Akane tried barging into the door to open it, but it wouldn't budge one bit. We were concerned for him, along with all our other friends in comatose. All of us kept hoping for that slim chance that they would someday awake. We even heard that two of them might have a greater chance to wake up since they knew the truth about the Ultimate Despairs in the program. I'm sure you've heard of those two-- Mikan, and the one I've continuously seen.
I'm not sure why I've come here everyday, crying onto his bedside. I shouldn't care so much for the person who confused us so many times, who had told lies and avoided the truth. All for this worship cycle of his hope and luck . . . he's done so much.
. . . And I've been secretly wishing his luck would grant him the chance of living again. But, why? I always had to ask myself after I thought about it for a while. Why did I want him, of all people, to wake up?
I could wish for Mikan, or Peko, or Ibuki, or . . . anybody else. And I do. I honestly want everyone to wake up.
But then again, there's this huge thought swirling in my head.
"I miss you, Komaeda," I whispered what I had said constantly throughout this whole time of endless waiting.
I've cried too much. I can't cry again over this bastard. I can't. I . . . I can't . . .
My self-consciousness takes over my mind sometimes. It does things I wouldn't even dream of doing. Like, for instance, grasping his cold hand, holding onto it as if it were to hold mine back. But I knew he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't.
He's gone. He's not waking up. He's not going to. Nobody is.
Of course they wouldn't. Despair always takes over hope. Hope can resurface, right? Right?
From all of the obsession Komaeda shown for it, it can come back to us, right?
"It can, can't it, Komaeda?" I felt the tears, I didn't bother wiping them away, "Of course it'll come back to us."
I let out a sob, "Just . . . Just like you'll come back to me, right?" My left hand held tightly onto his one hand, my other moving onto his forehead, feeling through his hair with tears continuing to fall. "Why . . . Why am I like this? For you? For all the people here strung up in these beds, you?!" I continued to weep, feeling as though I was mourning the loss of everyone even before they were pronounced dead.
Tears continued to fall, blurring my vision as I stared at his closed eyelids for what seemed like the millionth time.
"It's . . . all my fault."
. . .

I am Hajime Hinata. I am Izuru Kamukura. I was the cause for all my friend's comatose's. I uploaded the virus. Chiaki is gone because of me. Junko Enoshima could have escaped because of me. I am about to lose the person I care about the most.
I am the cause to all of this. I am the cause to all of this. I am the cause to all of tH5A. I -m --T cUAJS -OR ------ KOM4aD9A i4S ---- D;-YI@NG ---AHMS - I a7M tH9! cA_UjSE f8@OR-- D--ES--PAI---R--
. . .