Chapter Text
Forget the fact that you’re living in a world where death is not a certainty, as long as you have extra lives purring at your feet.
Forget the fact that you have a friend whose hair can turn into tentacles, and his arm can swallow both: A) a trembling Kozaka-C minion and B) homemade takoyaki.
Maybe the greatest, fantastical notion of all is—that you’re loved.
*
…. Well, that’s the general idea.
To the uncertain, anxious Tetsu I wrote, desperately afraid of being left behind by his dearest friends, and mired in self-loathing—I wanted to tell him something. That’s the whole reason for this story.
I wanted him to know: that he’s loved. They love you, you know, just for the way you are. Your loud voice, your endless memes, the way you avoid eye contact like the plague, your obscure references that nobody knows about half the time.
In this story, Rito couldn’t promise Tetsu forever. But doesn’t that make every second they spent with each other all the more precious? Something about the beauty of impermanence, and treasuring a flower in full bloom while it lasts.
Hey, Tetsu. If Rito can still love you while you look like a sopping wet cat, then you have nothing to worry about.
If you ever get lonely, just look at the halcyon horizon. Every morning, Mana brings you clear blue skies, Wen paints you blushing, candied clouds, and most of all: Rito brings you the dawn on a silver platter, shoving aside the overcast gloom to make way for the radiant sun.
… What’s left to say? I guess thirteen thousand words was enough.
If I could put it simply:
This is a story about love.