Work Text
Hajime Hinata was not Izuru Kamukura. Not anymore, at least, he told himself with a defeated sigh as he let his head hit the workbench. There was a jagged scar across his forehead from where his body had been opened, proving that he certainly was once Kamukura. Now, though, he only wished he was the red-eyed Ultimate Everything, as he failed yet again to create a functional prosthetic.Even with the help of the Ultimate Mechanic, Kazuichi Souda, and all of Izuru’s leftover robotics-centric talents, he still couldn’t make something good enough to replace Komaeda’s hand, let alone anything good enough for Kuzuryu’s eye. Tsumiki was a lost case— she’d surgically removed Junko’s uterus, rotting eye, and rotting hand from her, Komaeda, and Kuzuryus bodies, but if Hinata couldn’t make a measly hand, there was no way he could somehow create a functional uterus. Tsumiki seemed happy enough without hers, though. That didn't change the defeat that coursed through Hinata's mind, an uncomfortable surge of awareness of his own fallacies.
(Kamukura could’ve done it, but he really hadn’t liked any of them enough to do it for them, least of all Servant, who would’ve been the easiest botched transplant to correct and prosthetic to make. He did, however, feel Hinata’s affection for them bleed into his mind now that they shared his brain. It was a unique sensation. So many unique sensations had Kamukura experienced in Hinata’s head.)
Repairing the damage done by the Remnants of Despair and The Tragedy was… hard. Mostly, that was left to the Future Foundation, who shipped them supplies to the real Jabberwock Island. Hinata was grateful for that— he liked living out there, even if it wasn’t as perfect as the simulation. At least there was no malicious Junko AI or Monokuma to force them into a killing game. There was no perfect temperatures, no cooling breeze, but there was the real bodies of his classmates all around him. Besides, Hinata's job was just to make sure no one snapped and started killing. Most of the rebuilding was being handled by powerhouses Nidai and Oowari, directed by Mirai (the new name Imposter had chosen after being revealed as not Byakuya.)He’d like the island better though, he thought with spite, if he could get this hand to work. Komaeda was having real trouble around the island, and still was behaving oddly to Hinata after the revelation that he was a reserve course student and Izuru Kamukura, and that Hope's Peak had used a perfectly average person’s body to host the Ultimate Hope instead of someone more “worthy,” in his eyes.
(Kamukura knew Komaeda secretly wished it was him, hoping the procedure would somehow fix his medical issues. Kamukura also knew that it wouldn’t have helped.)
Why couldn’t Kamukura’s talents have carried over? Instead of being good at everything, like he had been, Hinata was just mediocre at most things. A jack of all trades, master of none. Better than a master of one, the original saying went, but Hinata had to disagree. Not only had Kamukura been a master of all, Hinata would rather be a master of one than kinda shitty at everything else. If he was a master of making prosthetics, a, uh… Ultimate Prosthetic-er…
(Prosthetist. Ultimate Prosthetist.)
One of those, then Hinata wouldn't be in this situation, and Komaeda, Kuzuryu, and Tsumiki would all have functioning organs and limbs. Hinata’s mediocrity just wasn’t enough to build a fully functional prosthetic hand with sensory input and movable digits from scratch. Maybe Komaeda was right, maybe Hinata wasn’t worthy of hosting Izuru if he couldn’t even make this one pet project work. Hinata slammed his head into his work bench with a loud groan, sending pieces of mechanics and delicate springs raining onto the floor in a nuts-and-bolts hail.
(It was pointless, Kamukura remarked quietly, to throw his hard work on the floor. This only served to further agitate Hinata, but it was an observation Kamukura felt he had to make before Hinata destroyed all their hard work. Kamukura liked working hard at stuff, instead of just doing it. Kamukura liked not having a talent at every single thing anymore. It was way less boring that way.)
Kazuichi opened the door just as Hinata began tearing up from the frustration. Kazuichi pushed open the warehouse’s doors with his hips, presumably, because in his hands were two plates of lunch that smelled heavenly. Somehow, even with the ration-like food they got from the Future Foundation’s shipments, Hanamura always managed to make something delicious. Oowari and Nidai liked catching fish, Pekoyama was good enough at hunting to occasionally trap a boar or skewer crabs on her sword, and Tanaka supervised food-prep to make sure Hanamura was being regular.They were like a highly dysfunctional family of mentally-unwell young adults trying to survive and recover from their trauma during the end of the world. Fun!
(Kamukura always saw them more like a regular friend group. He wasn’t quite sure how family dynamics formed between friends, even with the permanent proximity to each other. Maybe it was because of his own lack of family? Maybe it was because none of these suffering, mentally-ill, damaged people could ever make a family, let alone one with parent-child dynamics.)
Hinata smacked the table with his fist, keeping his head down on his desk. He was so unbelievably frustrated. Hours poured into his project, and he couldn't even make a single functional prosthetic finger. They'd have better use with forcing Naegi to come down and hoping his luck caused Komaeda's hand to spontaneously regrow! Kazuichi settled next to Hinata in another work chair. Hinata looked up to see Kazuichi looking down at him with a concerned expression just as Hinata accidentally let a tear slip, trailing down his face and clearing a track in the dark soot that coated his cheeks. “Bro? Are you okay? What is it?” he asked, and Hinata shied away from his eyes, tucking his head back into his arms. He liked Kazuichi more without his contacts, and he wished he’d cut off the last of the pink dye and let his dark brown roots continue to grow out. Only Hinata usually saw it, but underneath his beanie, the top of his head was all natural brown. It suited him, too.“Sorry,” Hinata managed, then wiped his tears away and took in a deep shuddering breath. His lungs had an unusual habit of fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird when he was nervous or upset about something. “I just can’t get the hand to work, and I got frustrated. I wonder if we’d be better off with Kamukura, after all…?” He had wondered the same thing hundreds of times since reducing Kamukura to nothing but an occasional voice, and choosing to part with Kamukura’s favorable talents. Thankfully, Kamukura kept shut this time, his soft voice noticeably not giving his input.“Dude,” Kazuichi said with a frown, putting his hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “We don’t want Izuru, man. We want you! Even if you can’t make a perfect replica hand right away, we all want you and not Izuru. Even albino freakshow wants you to make his hand instead of that guy, and that’s saying something. He’s been babbling about the hope he has for the completed thing for fucking days— seriously. You’re doing fine.”He was… right. Kazuichi wanted him here, he had made that abundantly clear. He didn't want anyone but Hajime Hinata working on this project with him. He was… wanted. He was special, and unique, and just as worthy as all the Ultimates. Maybe if he said it to himself enough times, it would fan up the tiny little spark inside of him into a roaring bonfire of self-confidence.Even if it just meant Kazuichi would smile at him again, that was more than enough reason in Hinata's eyes to try.Hinata managed a smile. He brought his hand up, and cupped it over Kazuichi's shoulder. They had a thing— not a thing, really, but a thing for each other. It had been left in silence, but Hinata knew what Kazuichi meant by soul bros, by two men closer than anything else. Kazuichi’s pink eyes, contacted and all, met his, and Hinata knew that even if making the hand with him took a million tries, it’d be worth it.