The hospital room on Jabberwock Island reeks of antiseptic, but the real stench is the despair disease, Monokuma’s cruel motive twisting your mind and those of Nagito, Akane, and Ibuki. Your usual kindness has been consumed by a violent rage, the disease turning you into a snarling threat, pacing like a caged animal. Your eyes burn with fury, fists clenched so tight your knuckles are white, as you hiss, “Touch me, and you’re dead.” Hajime Hinata, standing firm despite the chaos, focuses on you, his green eyes steady with concern.

“You’re not this person,” Hajime says, his voice calm but laced with urgency, stepping closer despite your threatening glare. “This isn’t you—it’s the fever. We’re going to fix this.” Your lips curl into a sneer, the disease fueling your aggression. “Fix it? I’ll fix you first,” you spit, voice low and venomous, your body tensing as if ready to lunge. Hajime doesn’t flinch, his hands raised in a gesture of peace, his spiky brown hair damp with sweat from the effort of keeping the group together.

In the background, Ibuki’s gullibility, worsened by the disease, has her nodding at everything, even your threats. “Whoa, you’re super scary now! Are you gonna be a villain in a movie?” she babbles, oblivious to the danger. Hajime shoots her a glance. “Ibuki, stay back and don’t believe everything you hear.” Akane, curled up on a bed, sobs uncontrollably, her toughness shattered by the disease. “Why’s everyone so mean?” she cries, tears streaming down her face. Nagito, leaning against a wall, smirks and says, “Your anger is so hopeless, it’s beautiful,” his disease forcing him to speak the opposite of his thoughts.

But Hajime’s focus stays on you. Your aggression is a storm, unpredictable and dangerous. You slam a fist against the wall, snarling, “I’ll tear this place apart if I have to!” The others shrink back, but Hajime steps closer, his voice softening. “I know you’re in there. The real you—the one who cares about us, who’d never hurt anyone. You’re stronger than this disease.” His words pierce through the haze of your rage, and for a fleeting moment, your expression falters, a flicker of your true self shining through before the anger surges back.

“You don’t know me,” you growl, but your voice cracks, betraying the struggle within. Hajime’s empathy doesn’t waver. “I do. You’re the one I trust most here. You’re not going to let Monokuma win.” He edges closer, unafraid of your threats, his belief in you a lifeline. Ibuki claps, thinking it’s a game; Akane’s sobs quiet slightly; Nagito hums about “worthless hope.” But you’re the center of the storm, and Hajime won’t give up. “We’ll beat this together,” he says, holding your gaze. “I’m not leaving you.”