I never said they forgot you by choice, did I? [Komaeda lifts an eyebrow.] But whether they were made to forget or forgot on their own, does it really matter? The memories are gone either way. They wouldn't know you even if they saw you.
[But this is interesting, because now Komaeda has a fixed point in his understanding of what Junko knows and doesn't know. She's correctly predicted what Naegi did, according to the file - but it's no more than that. A prediction. A guess. However accurate a guess it is, however clear it is that she saw ten moves ahead of even her own death...the fact is that she doesn't know. She doesn't know, and Komaeda does.
There's a certain arch satisfaction to be taken in that.
Before he can take too much breathless pleasure in feeling superior to such an Ultimate, of course, her slim hand is on his throat, nails scratching his skin. The word for the gesture that should come to mind first is 'threatening', so why do Komaeda's thoughts first supply the word 'intimate'? No; perhaps 'divine'. Divine in the sense of something so awe-inspiring, so breathtakingly beyond human comprehension, that it could strike a man dead. Not all that is divine is necessarily good.
And Junko's a goddess. It doesn't even occur to Komaeda to bother wondering what of. What else would she be a goddess of?
That sweet promise, that offer for the acceptance he craves from someone so incredible, is far too tempting given everything he knows on an intellectual level. But any amount of weight, they say, can be shifted if a lever is inserted in the right place. He's beginning to realize, in his feeble attempts at resistance, just how vulnerable he actually is to despair, that he can know so much and hate so much and still, somehow, want to fall to his knees before her.
But an attempt is made. A rather desperate and clumsy attempt, he feels it as such before he even gets the words out, but anything to jam her gears and stop her momentum before she rolls right over him.]
They're dead. I killed all the ones left alive.
[He doesn't know this for sure, and he doubts he was able to hide all his tells to that effect - well enough to pass for a normal person, but to fool someone like Junko? Borderline impossible. But it could be true, and he tries to hold onto that. He's still not sure whether or not he wants all his friends to be dead, Ultimate Despair notwithstanding...but believing he could have ended them, that he may very well have, is important. An act of open resistance against Ultimate Despair, his choosing - his having the strength - to turn his back on Junko, on his friends, on anything and everything wearing the aspect of despair. It's a battle cry against Junko, and a reminder to him of his resolve. Hope is much more important than trash like him, or any selfish desires for affirmation that trash might have.]
no subject
[But this is interesting, because now Komaeda has a fixed point in his understanding of what Junko knows and doesn't know. She's correctly predicted what Naegi did, according to the file - but it's no more than that. A prediction. A guess. However accurate a guess it is, however clear it is that she saw ten moves ahead of even her own death...the fact is that she doesn't know. She doesn't know, and Komaeda does.
There's a certain arch satisfaction to be taken in that.
Before he can take too much breathless pleasure in feeling superior to such an Ultimate, of course, her slim hand is on his throat, nails scratching his skin. The word for the gesture that should come to mind first is 'threatening', so why do Komaeda's thoughts first supply the word 'intimate'? No; perhaps 'divine'. Divine in the sense of something so awe-inspiring, so breathtakingly beyond human comprehension, that it could strike a man dead. Not all that is divine is necessarily good.
And Junko's a goddess. It doesn't even occur to Komaeda to bother wondering what of. What else would she be a goddess of?
That sweet promise, that offer for the acceptance he craves from someone so incredible, is far too tempting given everything he knows on an intellectual level. But any amount of weight, they say, can be shifted if a lever is inserted in the right place. He's beginning to realize, in his feeble attempts at resistance, just how vulnerable he actually is to despair, that he can know so much and hate so much and still, somehow, want to fall to his knees before her.
But an attempt is made. A rather desperate and clumsy attempt, he feels it as such before he even gets the words out, but anything to jam her gears and stop her momentum before she rolls right over him.]
They're dead. I killed all the ones left alive.
[He doesn't know this for sure, and he doubts he was able to hide all his tells to that effect - well enough to pass for a normal person, but to fool someone like Junko? Borderline impossible. But it could be true, and he tries to hold onto that. He's still not sure whether or not he wants all his friends to be dead, Ultimate Despair notwithstanding...but believing he could have ended them, that he may very well have, is important. An act of open resistance against Ultimate Despair, his choosing - his having the strength - to turn his back on Junko, on his friends, on anything and everything wearing the aspect of despair. It's a battle cry against Junko, and a reminder to him of his resolve. Hope is much more important than trash like him, or any selfish desires for affirmation that trash might have.]