(Spoilers abound for Goodbye [] and Second Scenario.)
As Eito pauses at the Wall of Fire, he wonders if anyone will run after him, or at least watch him leave.
Someone does. It ends poorly for the both of them.
Eito should’ve known, really.
As he left Sirei behind, approached the edges of Last Defense Academy, he admonished himself for having hope. For believing everyone would accept him back, that Takumi would lend him even an iota of trust despite everything at stake.
It hadn’t been about ‘doing the right thing’ or ‘redeeming himself’.
It’d been something more personal.
Not being alone, even if it meant looking away.
Too bad, so sad. He got unlucky. It could’ve been any one of them who glitched, but he ended up with this disorder and these memories, and he had to live with the consequences of his actions no matter the circumstances which caused it.
…He wondered if anyone watched him leave, even now. Did Takumi keep an eye out, debating on changing his mind even to the last? Or would someone else have a change of heart and plead his case before he vanished across the horizon?
Did…
Anyone care?
Likely not.
So Eito thought, as he stopped amidst the heat of the Undying Flames brushing his cheek. He’d open up a hole and leave the extinguisher on the other side, cementing his departure and his status as a foreign element. Just another thing to be burned away.
Right as he raised the device, a pittering from behind made him stop. Not encroaching invaders from across the barrier, not V’exhness or whatever else.
He knew this smell.
“Wait…!”
Eito’s heart stopped.
He gripped the sack Sirei gave him, turned around, only to realize there’d only been one voice, one pair of footsteps—and that now with his vision plunged into darkness, he had no reason to turn towards anyone speaking to him.
But, why…?
“Nozomi?” he said, and said girl ran, grabbing Eito’s hand and dragging him towards the Wall of Fire.
“I can’t leave you like this,” she said, breaths ragged as if she hurried the whole way for him. “Sumino—the others, they may have accepted you leaving, but…it’s not safe to go out there by yourself. Please, let me lead you somewhere you can take shelter in!”
Eito frowned, trying to tug his hand free, but he met with a surprising amount of resistance. “Nozomi…I appreciate the thought, but I know where I need to go. Sirei gave me directions for Second to Last Defense Academy. Your Team Leader made his choice. If it means anything, it makes me happy to know you wanted to see me off.”
“…”
“Nozomi?”
The shaaaaaaah sound of the fire extinguisher brushed passed him, and another hard yank had him stumbling forward. Nozomi transformed into a force of nature, desperate and determined to stay by his side no matter how much he resisted.
“I can’t let you go alone,” she said. “I trust Sumino…he means a lot to me. But if no one else is going to do the bare minimum of taking you somewhere safe, then I will.
“With the shortcut, it’ll only be two days of walking, and two days back,” she said, voice wavering before she took a deep breath, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. So, please, don’t worry.”
“I…”
Nozomi reacted the most dramatically to Takumi’s refusal. Her cries, her sympathy—not to say he least expected her to care, but for her to plead for his mercy? It left an odd pit in his stomach.
What a kind girl. Truly, how nice.
Almost too nice.
“Hm. I’ll try not to, then.”
He wished he had the courage to refuse her, but that pit craved company, no matter how grating and repulsive, so he clung to her hand as she guided him forward—until she let go.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot, It must not be nice for you to touch me.”
“It’s fine,” Eito said. “Now that I can’t see, the sensation of touch is somewhat more tolerable without having to perceive your hideous form.”
“I see…well, can you follow my footsteps? If I see anything dangerous, I’ll help you navigate.”
“Haha, if you say so, Captain Nozomi.”
A weak laugh escaped her. He mimed a little salute, and it turned into a brighter giggle. After that, though, conversation lapsed, and the two walked forward in silence. Heat soaked into Eito’s thick jacket and left him sweltering. However, with Nozomi around, he knew he’d need the layers if he wanted to handle being normal without throwing up the last meal he had back at the academy.
An egg sandwich. He’d made it himself. He would’ve liked to make some for everyone tomorrow, if he had a chance.
…if only eggs weren’t perishable, he wished he could put one together for Nozomi on the road…
“Watch out!” Nozomi yelled and grabbed his arm. He stopped—she guided him around something, breathing a sigh of relief once the danger passed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You being here is already more than I deserve.”
“…Don’t say that,” Nozomi said. “I think—the way the others rejected you…was really unfair of them. It’s why I decided to sneak out.”
“You…left? Without permission? Or without saying anything?”
The lingering emptiness in Eito’s gut grew into a cavern. He wrenched his arm away, the back of his foot hitting a rock he almost tripped over before he regained his composure. “You shouldn’t be here, then. They might not take you back if you’re a deserter.” Not to mention… “Do you even have a fire extinguisher to return with?”
“I brought it with me, don’t worry,” Nozomi said. “It’ll be fine. This is the least I can do for you.”
“For me?”
Eito swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Why?”
Why anything, really?
A stupid question to ask. Nozomi guided him to the other academy because she was nice. Because she was kind, because she acted kind and helped others and from every perceivable source, did whatever she could do to look out for her peers.
So Eito experienced, and so he ascribed to her.
“…Because,” she said, “I had to.”
His breath hitched. “You didn’t have to do anything.”
“No—I had to bring you somewhere safe. It’s important to me.”
Important—why? Why again? Did robbing himself of his sight rob Eito of his self-awareness too? If Nozomi wanted to share, she would’ve said it already. He ran a hand through his hair and focused on following Nozomi. Whenever she grabbed him and escorted him around obstacles, he let her do so and tried not to flinch.
The least he could do, really.
All the silence, the lack of conversation made time stretch minutes into hours. Eito swore they’d already made it halfway there, but when Nozomi stopped, he took mental count and realized only a few hours passed.
“It’s getting dark,” she said. “It’s not safe to keep going, and we’re not in a hurry. How about we find shelter?”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you away any longer from your friends than I need to,” he said, though according to Nozomi’s trot off in a different direction, he had a feeling she didn’t give him a choice in the matter.
Very well. He followed.
Wherever she picked, he admitted to himself he didn’t see a reason to complain. Exhaustion burned through him. Anything would do—anywhere he could rest.
She led him somewhere cold, a relief compared to the hot sun they waded through all day. His shoes sank down into a soft carpet as the breeze whistled through gaps high above. The scent of weathered pages caught Eito’s attention, and he stopped.
“Is this a library?” he asked, and took a deep breath. Regardless of the answer, he knew this was the abode of a book lover. He could be at peace here, if it were somewhere safe to stay. Alas, this close to the school would be far too risky.
Then again—he only had until the missiles fired. Tomorrow, or a couple weeks later, did it make a difference if he’d be condemned either way? Not that Eito resented Takumi’s choice.
He accepted it. Nothing else lingered but the will to go on and accomplish what he intended to the moment he walked away.
If he’d been a bit more of a coward…
He would’ve stayed in the cage, for all the good it brought him.
“I don’t know,” Nozomi said after a long pause. He heard her pace around the room and tried to follow, only for his foot to collide with a stack of books. He threw a hand out and regained his balance, clinging to a shelf which rocked under his grip. “Hey, watch out!”
Nozomi hurried over and held his hand again. “Thank you…” Eito said. “What kind of books are they? From Futurum?”
Still holding onto Eito, he heard her shuffle through some pages. “I can’t read some of the covers, but others look like they’re from the satellite. Kind of…
“Or, maybe…” More flipping of pages. Nozomi gasped, and the book slammed against the ground. Eito felt bad for the poor novel. “These are banned books! Did—did those in charge eject them all here?”
He expected her to react with more shock, maybe even fear, but when Eito heard more page shuffling and even muttering, everything he thought he knew about Nozomi shriveled up and died.
“Should you be reading those, then?” Eito said. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”
“No one will know, right!? It’ll be fine!” Nozomi’s voice dripped with enthusiasm. “Do you want me to read this to you? It’s an old record of the arctics, a continent made of ice that used to exist on Earth!”
Eito laughed, left aghast. For someone so loyal to the cause, he didn’t expect Nozomi to explode in excitement at the idea of learning about information humanity has rejected for centuries.
Then again, she likely held some kind of special insider perspective, if she managed to sneak onto the mission. Maybe she already knew more than he assumed.
“You can, if you’d like—” he said, and Nozomi leapt into reading as if she’d held it back for ages. The two of them took a seat as she dug through all kinds of books about nature, culture, history, war.
He noted that she preferred natural history, in particular.
“Being able to see the open world like this must be a dream come true,” he said.
“It is…I’ve seen rain, mist—I’d give anything to experience snow, one day.” She closed the book she’d read with a satisfied thump. “Everyone else knows…you were in your cage, so you never got the chance to hear it, but—my mom was a researcher on cryptoglobin.”
Ah.
Hm.
“I participated in her research, and it was because of her I stumbled onto everyone in their pods and snuck onto the mission. But, before she—died, she let me read all the books she had that normal people never got to see. About the outside world, and all its wonder.”
“I see,” Eito said. “No wonder you’ve always been so determined to see this through.” She must’ve had all kinds of friends she wanted to bring to the surface of this planet.
Down to safety, down to comfort.
Must be nice.
Silence ruled again—until Nozomi hit the cover of the book she held.
“You know,” she said, “I don’t think I ever cared.”
Eito’s mouth flapped open, and closed again. Nozomi took his lack of reply as all the response she needed.
“About…humanity,” she said. “I thought I did. I believed with everything I had that I joined this mission to save humanity from destruction. But when Shouma revealed the truth—no, even before that, when you told us about humans being the real invaders, I started to think. About myself, about my mother.”
Her breath hitched.
“I…love my mother. I loved my mother, and I loved her dream. I wanted to do anything to make it real, to make what she loved what I loved. And she loved humanity, you know? She believed in the potential of mankind to last forever, to go anywhere and do anything we wished. So when she died, I took all her love and loved in her place.
“But it was her love, not mine. I’ve never even had a friend before I came here. I spent all my time either digging through the deepest corners of the library looking for books on the outside world, or in my mother’s experiments. What else could I have done?
“Who else…could I have become?”
Did she want Eito to answer? He didn’t know how. He followed the same dusted steps she did, hollowed himself into the same buried secrets as Nozomi—though unlike him, who clung to scraps of delusion and hatred, protecting himself from all the pain and fear, she found beauty in the remnants of the past she encountered. For the parts of the world no one but her treasured.
She could’ve become someone else, someone a little less desperate to cling to the love she lost, to the things she wished she had.
In some self-centered way, Eito felt glad she didn’t.
“We make the choices we do,” he said, “and we have to live with them. That’s all we can do.”
“…Right.”
Nozomi sniffled, and Eito imagined her wiping her tears away. “Even if I never had the normal life I wanted until I came here, I’m glad I was able to find it. With everyone…”
She trailed off.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t bring them up.”
“It’s fine,” Eito said, even if it really wasn’t, even if it reignited that burning desire to stay he’d all but extinguished until she mentioned everyone again. “It’s nice you managed to find those friends you wanted so badly.”
He didn’t mean for his comment to hit her like a slap, but the silence following left him wallowing in guilt. Nozomi so kindly offered to guide him to Second to Last Defense Academy, and he rewarded her with passive aggressive envy.
If Eito wanted to blame anyone for being driven away, he could only point at himself, a phantom of the past, a creation of hatred acting just as designed.
Just as designed…
But with a will.
The others had their own will, too. And they’d chosen to deny him trust after everything. He needed to accept that, with no feelings and no resentment.
Otherwise he’d die with a blooming sickness in his chest. It’d fester on the surface of this wiped planet.
He couldn’t leave something like that behind, could he?
“…there has to be something…”
“Hm?”
Eito tilted his head, intrigued by Nozomi’s mutterings, but she clammed up. “Ah, sorry! It’s nothing!”
“Oh. I see…”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“Right—is there anything you want to read? I can look around.”
Latching onto Nozomi’s segue with the desperate desire he too had to change the topic, the two perused books while Nozomi read them aloud until sleep claimed them both. Though her voice grated him so, he preferred it to silence, for he knew once she left him and returned to where she belonged, he’d have nothing left.
They meant to leave the next day—but a storm provided an unexpected, though not unwelcome reprieve. The moment the first drops of rain landed, Nozomi leapt up and raced about the building. It took ages for her to stop.
“Sorry, I’m sorry—” she said as she guided Eito somewhere much more dry. “It’s just—the books, I didn’t…”
“You didn’t want them to get damaged?”
Nozomi stayed silent, then gasped. “Oh, I forgot one more…yes. I know they might’ve been okay if they’ve made it this far intact, but…wherever the owner is, I thought they’d be happy knowing someone made the effort to keep their books as far away from water damage as possible.”
“Right. The previous owner.” Who’d be annihilated in the coming days. Eito thought to bring it up, but Nozomi continued on as if desperate to get away from the topic.
“It’s nice,” she said. “The sound of rain.
Pitter-patter, it sang. Pang, pang, it called out.
The breaths of the world. A song all for Eito and Nozomi, while the others rested within the warm, welcoming confines of their family back at the academy. It made sense only two outsiders received this gift.
Though, if the planet’s will truly existed, Eito imagined it’d steal this wonderful memory back before they blinked. And maybe strike them both with lighting while it was at it.
A clap of thunder pummeled through the air much closer by, a loud bang which ripped a shriek from Nozomi as she buried herself against Eito. He lurched back, as if her touch ripped against his skin like fire and acid, and only then Nozomi managed to remove herself.
“…Sorry,” she said.
“You—say that a lot, don’t you?” Eito said, laughing through his indigestion. “But you don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Nozomi shuffled in place. Grasping for reasons. For a specific source of her guilt, coming up empty with every dive.
The rain’s song absolved her.
Just this once.
Right. She didn’t have anything to be sorry for. Even if she resolved to fight for her friends and not for her past burdens, in the end, Nozomi still planned to accomplish everything her mother wanted her to. Those goals placed in front of her, lofty and true, dangled close to her fingertips.
As long as she went back. To where she needed to go—after leaving Eito to his fate. Despite everything he did, Takumi chose to push him away, and everyone else watched him leave.
…
Was it fair?
By all accounts, Nozomi was the worst of them all. The others killed so many Futurans. They’ll be the ones to seal the demise of the planet. But they’d been created to do so, had the power to kill imbued in their veins, had their bodies and minds molded for warfare. They’d been crafted to do nothing but.
But Nozomi, born with the choice to choose, came here of her own will. Dejected by her life on the satellite she opted to abandon it.
As soon as she arrived, she should’ve known. All the other humans earned the chance to claim ignorance except for her.
The hum of rain scratched her ears.
What began as a song from the planet morphed into a punishing cacophony. Another clap of thunder made her wince. The lighting before did nothing to her, it was that thunder, that loud clap which sounded with the same fervent force as the sirens. It blanked her mind and pumped panic in her veins.
It issued a warning.
She’d never belong on this planet, as long as she stained it so.
“…I have more to apologize for than you,” she said, though she wasn’t sure how much she meant it. It only felt nice to say.
Eito laughed. A forced, breathy one, before another bout of thunder made Nozomi wince. Maybe a waste, maybe a memory, the two stayed silent and close. Both stained, yet within the wreckage of each other, could anyone tell?
Thanks to Nozomi’s visual direction, they encroached upon the school after another day of travel. Though they began the day with a silent breakfast (where Nozomi not-so-quietly smuggled some of the books away for the road), at some point, Eito started to narrate.
“A wondrous morning—if only the chirping birds presented their beautiful voices alongside our journey, but the ruined ecosystem prevents even a bug’s chirp from breaking this pitiful silence."
Nozomi frowned. “I think it’d be better to appreciate what we have,” she said. “I wish the local wildlife wasn’t chased off, but there’s still flowers growing, and bacteria in pools of water. It’s not all gone.”
“Not yet,” Eito said, and she clammed up.
After all—could she argue? If life still persisted, once the Undying Flames swept the planet, who knew how much would survive. Likely, scientists on the Artificial Satellite long since developed countermeasures, planned species to introduced and mapped out ways to tear the beautiful, unique ecosystem of Futurum into pieces, gluing them back together into the horrific abomination dubbed The Second Earth.
Eito seemed sick as the pair dwelled on it.
Yet still, he was willing to be a part of it, even blinded himself for the cause if it meant everyone accepted him back.
Honestly. Maybe if Takumi killed him, it would’ve been easier to accept it all. At least then he’d have the hurt out of the way.
“…I’m sorry,” Eito said, to the one person who hadn’t abandoned him. A soft, pleading intent: please don’t leave.
Of course Nozomi smiled. Of course she stayed.
Because she was nice, wasn’t she?
“Could you tell me more about your life on the satellite?” Eito asked, and Nozomi stopped.
“I…” She shook her head, and started to walk again. “I don’t know how different it is from your memories.”
Eito snapped, almost out of instinct: “My memories don’t matter.
“…Well, most of them don’t.”
Nozomi brought a hand to her heart, gripping the fabric of her shirt. She wondered, for a moment, what it would be like to find out her past was nothing but a fabrication. If all the effort she put forth, if the person she made herself be had been nothing but fake memories fed into her head from some pod. If all the love she felt, all the sacrifices she’d made…
Had been nothing?
She’d probably kill herself. For someone, anyone. Whatever it took to be real.
“It’s a normal place,” she said, as if normal explained anything. “Filled with good people who don’t know anything about what lies outside, all trying to live as best they can. There’s not much taught about the outside world, but if you know where to look, you can learn all kinds of things. The climate’s always controlled and temperate, so there’s never any snow, or rain, or wind.”
There wasn’t much of anything for Nozomi there.
She shook her head and looked down. “When you don’t have anything else, it’s nice. Normal. But I’ve always dreamed of more.”
Dreamed of. Needed. Craved? The outside, an outside came as an escape from the world she seemed so trapped in. An insect crammed into a jar by a child with a drop of water and a dead leaf to rot next to.
Maybe that was why she felt so at home at Last Defense Academy.
A girl who hollowed out so much among empty husks.
And here Nozomi traveled with someone who accepted that profound emptiness, doomed to have nothing after being rejected. Willingly fighting to kill millions for the sake of her friends and the lives they could live…
Could any of them judge Eito, in the end?
Nozomi stopped walking. She hurried to Eito, and grabbed his sleeve, stopping him too. He stumbled and stilled, frowning.
“What if…we both went back?
“What if you didn’t need to leave after all?
“I know what it’s like. To be alone, to hide away from the world. In some way—I think, maybe, if I—”
“Please,” Eito whispered, “please don’t. Don’t…”
Nozomi’s vision blurred as she lurched forward, her simple touch turned into a hug. As selfish as it seemed, dragging him back felt as though it’d patch together a hole long since formed and nestled into her heart.
She placed too much hope on a neat, happy ending like everyone getting along, united like the stars strewn across the night sky she’d never seen until the beginning of their hundred days. Even then those stars—those unique, beautiful things—never looked right. They’d never be the same as on Earth.
Nothing stayed. Everything changed.
And some things…
Drifted.
Eito tensed, and pulled out of her hug. Discomfort etched across his face, he snapped: “Don’t treat me like a pity case. I chose to leave. If you’re going to project your own desires onto me—”
He turned away. “Then I’ll go the rest of the way on my own.”
…
“Thank you for everything.”
Nozomi watched him leave. A long, drawn out moment of emptiness bloomed into a pit which consumed her whole. The bag slung over his shoulder, hung over his existence like a guillotine, was the last thing she saw before he disappeared into the distance.
Many days later, almost too long, almost not long enough, Nozomi walked to Second to Last Defense Academy.
Her friends died. They all gave their lives to save the planet, having barely pulled through only to watch in horror as V’exhness annihilated the satellite, as Sirei followed the iron grip of humanity’s will and protected the very same weapons turned on Futurum.
Only Takumi’s burnt, battered body and his last words greeted her in the end. They’d made her stay behind due to the final bout of rejection symptoms her body forced on her. She’d only have died with them if she tried to fight.
She should’ve died with them.
But carrying their twinkling hopes suited someone like her just fine, too. Maybe she’d fine a corner of the bleak, empty sky to die in.
…
No.
She couldn’t.
She shouldn’t.
She carried more than the dreams of one dead person, now. She held onto so many hopes they burned her inside out. She lived for the dead—for all of them, and nothing but.
But still.
Even still. She hurried to the other academy, hoping to see a familiar face. Maybe he found a place to hide from the battle pets (how stupid) or knew of a commander built shelter prepared to survive the flames (how foolish), or—he used his hemoanima, somehow (how disgusting disgusting disgusting—)
It took her several days. Much longer than her last excursion. Without the proper supplies packed, she started to hobble around the evening of the second day, and had all but dragged herself to the academy by the time she made it. But she had bigger concerns.
She could’ve raided the school’s supply and given herself more time.
But why would she visit for selfish reasons like that?
“Aotsuki?” she said, standing in the entrance hall. No response. “Aotsuki!?”
Her voice echoed and caught onto every shadowy corner of the emptied school. She noticed signs of people having come through, likely refugees breaking in for supplies based on what went missing. Not a can of food remained. A lot of the furniture had been taken away, and even some tech salvaged with all kinds of devices torn apart.
The Futurans deserved to cannibalize the school for all it was worth. But the fact signs of people entering haunted her at every corner without a hint of Eito left filled her with dread.
Her voice grew hoarse, and she ran back outside, around the courtyard. She passed by the gates several times, and she noticed on the seventh lap the dried bloodstains, broken shades and decomposing flesh clinging to bones littered about the academy’s entrance.
She must have not noticed until now. Must have tried to ignore it.
Really…
How could she be so selfish as to expect him to live?
Nozomi threw up over Eito’s remains, however unkindly. Of course—of course. Eito spoke to Sirei before he left. The robot must have instructed him to kill himself with some kind of weapon or bomb as soon as he made it to the other school. That’s why his bag seemed so heavy, that’s why he never let Nozomi look in it!
That’s why—the selfish servant of humanity, up until the end, would never allow one of their creations to leave without a condition, or fight, or…
“Aotsuki…” Nozomi fell to her knees and fumbled for what she believed to be the skull. Something which resembled it still, part of the jaw blown off, chunks of rotten flesh and even some hair still clung to the top, a massive cavity demonstrating where something had beat his head in. Trembling hands brought it inside and to the courtyard.
A heavy heart buried it. The rest of his corpse made her stomach turn at the thought of salvaging it, so she left it at that before more stomach acid flung out of her. The hunger meant nothing in comparison to the pounding weight of failure.
She planted a stick for a grave. Not like a cheap machine produced tombstone meant much more, but at least she would’ve been able to carve a name into it.
At least he would’ve been remembered. In some way.
…
…
“Why?”
Nozomi’s voice came out hoarse. Tired. How long had she been sitting there?
“Why wouldn’t you come back with me?”
“Why wouldn’t you let me understand you?”
No one watched her anymore. There was no Takumi to put his feelings upon her, no Moko to give her encouragement, no friends to help her once she collapsed, unable to move a muscle.
But she had something left.
This horrible, buried resentment, ready to escape the moment she let her guard down.
And scream it did.
“You’re just as selfish as the rest of them. Protecting me…even to the end, leaving me alone. I don’t—I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone again. I don’t—!”
Nozomi coughed, sputtered, and collapsed over Eito’s grave. Hateful, just this once.
“I don’t…I wanted to protect everyone, too…”
Maybe we have this, she thought, head burning. This one feeling we can share.
.
“…Hello?”
Nozomi turned around, face to face with a group of children, an adult behind them grasping onto a bat. Futurans, maybe. Most likely. Definitely.
For a brief moment, she wondered why she still understood them. The cryptoglobin left her body. She was just like any other human, now, cut off from this world. So why?
Maybe—it was Takumi’s last wish. Part of it. For her to find a place on this planet and bridge a gap no other human tried to. If wishes worked that way, she’d need to thank Takumi when she met him again.
“Um…”
She pulled herself away from Eito’s grave, and with shaking arms, held out a hand. The children stayed distant, the adult remained tense, but after a long pause, the one in the front spoke up.
“Did you…know the one who died here? He was strange.” She frowned, dissatisfied with her description. “He had this silver hair. And these dark glasses. And he was…one of the adults told me he was an invader. An invader who stole the power of the planet’s heroes.
“But he saved us. Did you know him?”
…
Did she?
Nozomi laughed—one which turned into a cough from her dried, parched throat. The adult behind the children tensed, though made no move to attack yet.
“I…” Did they understand her, too?
She didn’t know. She had to try anyways.
“I knew him. I don’t think I understood him, but I knew him, and I knew how much he cared. He might’ve been created to be an enemy to the people of this planet, but he died wanting a place to belong like anyone else.”
She looked back at the patch of soil pulled over Eito’s broken skull. Right—if she understood him, maybe she could’ve brought him back. Convinced him, convinced Takumi.
Sealed his death against the intercept system, like with the rest. Only death awaited him, but in that instance, he’d die accepted.
But maybe Eito didn’t want that.
And who was she to tell someone created to follow a path what choice he had to make?
Nozomi placed her free hand against where she buried Eito. “I put him to rest here. You knew him too, right?”
The orange haired child stepped forward. The adult raised a hand to stop her, but she stumbled forward regardless and knelt in front of Eito’s resting place, next to Nozomi. When the other Futurans saw the two sitting there in peace, after some hesitation, they moved to join the pair.
When they left, hours later, Nozomi went with them.
Once again, an outsider in a world she’d never quite fit in to. But maybe it was just fate, in a way, to become a guiding star of hopes for hollowed out corpses. She’d carry those ill-fated lives.
With all those ill-fated wishes.
And the actions of one person, who she knew, who knew her, who’d shared so much—yet so little. Even to the end.
Never quite…
Understood. Nozomi knew how that felt, at least.
As Eito laid there, dying amidst the dirt and rubble as the Undying Flames ate at the parts of his body still attached together, he thought back to when Nozomi huddled close to him during the thunderstorm. He thought about the sticky feel of her flesh even through his jacket, about how sick he felt with the momentary contact.
He remembered imagining something better. Fighting off the initial disgust and feeling for the Nozomi underneath it all.
He wanted it to end.
He never wanted her to leave.
He wanted…
…
Maybe leaving had been the better choice, after all.
An existence of craving and pain. Wanting and hating. A miserable life, all things considered, one he’d put a stop to when he got the chance. Just as he promised.
When he was sure Nozomi wasn’t listening, he whispered a quiet apology. He knew she’d want to stop him, figured she came for that reason alone. But no matter what, he wouldn’t go back with her.
It was…for her own good, really.
And she’d comply. She knew how to be good.