Those dang one-shots that I can never seem to finish-
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Hajime's Third Person P.O.V.

The blonde mastermind trotted forward on her red high heels, smiling insanely as she made her way to the brown-haired boy sitting in the chair.

Hajime struggled against his bonds, feebly attempting to inch away from Junko.

Her polished red nailed grabbed his chin, forcing the scowling teen to look up at the person he hated most.

"Ko, dear. What if I play with Haji-bean here? Surely you would mind, right?" She turned her head away from Hajime's olive eyes.

"NO!" Ko tugged even harder and more desperately at the sight in front of him.

Why did Ko still care for Hajime? He was useless and such a disappointment. After all those harsh words he had thrown at the servant, just why did Ko still have feelings for him?

"Oh hohohoho," Junko chuckled to herself, rubbing her palms together in euphoria. "It's like killing two birds with one stone! I don't even need to touch Kokopuff and he will already feel so much agony just by looking at his boyfriend suffer! How despairingly beautiful..." She mumbled to herself, salivating at the thoughts of torture.

While Junko wasn't paying attention, Hajime had began to loosen his restraints, the burning rope that cut into his wrists whenever he moved them. Little by luttle, the rope loosened and fell apart.

Why hadn't they put him in chains like they had done to Ko? Was it because he wasn't physically strong enough? Well then...

"Despairingly beautiful..." Junko stroked her blonde pigtails, staring off into the distance.

Placing a finger to his lips, Hajime silently signaled Ko not to move or utter a word.

The white-haired boy clamped his mouth shut, worry dancing in his jade eyes.

His bones groaned with every step he took, and it felt as if his insides were on fire. His leg had a slight limp due to the impact of the car, which had possibly broken it.

It was too late for Hajime to care about those minor injuries now. He had to focus on finding a way out of this situation.

Stalking into the shadows, he tried his best not to make any sounds as his olive eyes took in his dark surroundings.

All he was able to see were boxes and more boxes. Where was the exit?

"Where are you going?" A hand gripped his neck with inhumane strength.

At once, the air in Hajime's lungs escaped from his mouth, and he suddenly found himself clawing the cold hand around his throat.

Hajime was heaved up into the air, a few centimeters off the ground.

His eyes watered due to the lack of air plus the pressure of Izuru's hand.

He needed air.

He couldn't breathe.

His vision swam in darkness, the dim light of the room fading in and out.

Before he knew it, the choke hold around his neck disappeared. Instead, a searing pain tore through his back, replacing it.

Violent coughs erupted from his lungs, and he could hear Ko doing the same.

"Junko... You should be more aware of your surroundings." Izuru warned, pressing a button located on the wall.

Still smiling, Junko put up a peace sign.

"It won't happen again!"

A whirring sound came from above Hajime.

Junko squealed with glee, squishing the stuffed bear in her arms. What was she? A child stuck in a seventeen year old body?

Hajime could see Ko screaming his name, coughing between words. But why did it sound muffled? Was there something wrong with Hajime's ears?

Then he realized where he was.

A thin glass box had been placed around him, thanks to Izuru.

"Welcome to the nightly Despair Talk Show!" Junko's voice announced.

"Today, we have our special guest, Hajime Hinata! The plain and boring reserve course student!"

Fake applause bounced off the walls, amplifying it.

"What shall we have him watch today? Any suggestions, Mr. Kamakura?"

A deep male's voice sounded in the intercom, obviously irritated.

"Shut up and get on with it Junko."

"Awww. You're no fun." She seemed to pout over the speaker.

The gears in Hajime's mind were turning at a hundred miles per hour.

What would Izuru and Junko have him watch? Well, if it was anything, it would probably be something despairing.

But there was nothing they couod use against Hajime. He had still not forgiven Ko for manipulating him in this sadistic game of death, and he had no immediate family or parents.

What possibly could they use against him?

A mechanical clanking sound came to life in front of him. There, from the top of the glass case, came a small flat screen T.V.

Static enveloped the screen, turning it into a blurry gray.

Hajime, who was beyond genuinely terrified and hurt, scooted farther from the device.

Several sounds of what seemed like gunshots filled the chamber at max volume, along with a girl's high pitched shrieks of terror.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a brown haired girl in a Pikachu hoodie desperately shutting her eyes at the person in front of her. She was holding a metal frying pan, most likely using it to defend herself from the flying bullets.

"What would be more despair inducing than to watch your beloved student council members die in front of your eyes? Upupupupu~"

Another shriek of horror erupted from the frail girl's lips as another round of bullets struck the chalk board behind her, leaving steaming holes.

From the back of the shooter came another middle aged girl. Using the katana in her palms, she struck down the shooter, decapitating the boy's figure.

Bright red blood flew across the air, staining the white walls with splatters of ruby colored liquid.

Hajime's mouth fell agape in shock.

No.

This wasn't happening.

This can't possibly be happening.

They're in Hope's Peak Academy for goodness sake. Such despair couldn't possibly have corrupted the representatives of the school.

Right?

Hajime's olive eyes couldn't seem to peel themselves away from the gruesome scene.

It was as if they were glued to the screen. He couldn't even look away if he wanted to. The reserve course student was completely frozen, unable to move the slightest muscle whatsoever.

Ko's screaming was deaf to his ears. All he could hear were the blood splatters.

One by one, each student council member's life were taken away from them by their comrades. Their deaths were absolutely horrifying.

He wanted to stop watching.

He couldn't go on like this. Any more woukd drive him insane.

"Stop..." His lips trembled at the words tumbled out of his dry mouth.

"Stop it..."

A couple's body were pinned to the ground by a gigantic spear that impaled the two through their chests.

The female begged for mercy, but she too, lost the color in her eyes as they dulled.

"THIS ISN'T HAPPENING! NONE OF THIS IS REAL! YOU PEOPLE ARE JUST TRYING TO DECEIVE ME!" Hajime yelled, fat tears running down his cheeks.

"Deceive you? Oh honey, this is real. You've got to accept the harsh truth of reality some day or another. So why not now?"

Outside the glass walls, Junko smiled triumphantly at the suffering brown-haired boy.

"Can you feel the despair? Feel it. FEEL IT! ISN'T IT GORGEOUS?!" She laughed, jabbing a finger at the glass case.

"This is all your fault. Your fault that Izuru became what he is now. Your fault that he summoned me. Your fault that I orchestrated this massacre on your precious student body council."

A wave of guilt rolled over all his other thoughts. People died because of him. It was HIS fault.

Something at the back of his mind disagreed with him.

It wasn't his fault. None of this was real. It couldn't be. Junko was just tricking him again.

"This isn't real. You're just playing with me." Hajime put on a brave face and accused the blondish-orange haired female.

She laughed, a sharp trill that overlapped with the continuous screaming of the teenagers in the T.V. screen.

"Me? Playing with you? Please. As if I would do that."

She looked at Hajime's reaction, but to her disappointment, he still didn't believe her.

"You still don't believe me? Fine then. Have it your way. Time to bring out the big guns."

The T.V. screen turned into static again.

This time when it flickered back to life for the second time, Hajime's breath caught in his throat.

His heart rate increased rapidly and he lost control of his breathing, his emotions. Everything went pummeling down in an infinite spiral of black and white.

There, on the flat screen T.V., were his friends, the Class of 77-B.