Chapter Text
The corpse was still rotting when she returned.
Sullied in blood and bruised, the body of her mother laid motionless on the floor. The room was still dark, her father was still away, and the date was the same as when she had been sent to MILGRAM; nothing had really changed on the surface.
Amane knew this to be untrue.
The doubt that creeped inside her soul was new. It terrified her. She felt sure of everything before; that her father would be proud of her, that she was doing the right thing, that she was happy. The ideals she had lived by so far now were confusing; foreign.
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in her religion anymore. Her perspective on things had been changed, yes, but her faith was untouched. One of the only parts of her that stayed safe.
Still, she wondered if happiness was possible within the constraints that were set by the doctrine. Could she let herself be free of them while still holding onto her beliefs? A part of her truly wished for that liberation.
Was that desire as sinful as she had thought prior? She noticed she did not know anymore. The line between happiness and greed blurred so much for her it became indistinguishable. Her will too; it seemed to grow weaker and stronger by the minute, both at the same time.
Before she could stop them short, tears began falling down her face. She felt herself wanting to escape from the inevitable truth of her situation. The utopia she had made her life to be in her head was crumbling down in pieces, and she did not want that. She should not want that.
She started sinking deeper and deeper into that despair. Fragmented memories of her parents flashed through her head like a current. The good, kind and happy moments; the bad and scary ones too. They all intertwined into messy, bleak images that were making her spirit fall apart.
Was that doubt a trial? Or was it forbidden to feel this way?
Somewhere in between the downstream of pain, Es’s words during their final interrogation flew through her head, knowingly uninvited.
“Isn't it fine to change it into something that makes you happy too?”
Despite being unsure of it being a sin or a blessing, she willingly clung onto that idea.
Rays of hopeful, kind and frivolous conversations with the prisoners started clearing up the noise in her head. Having fun while playing cards with everyone, petting the fluffy rabbit that walked around the place everyday. The daily, usual chaos of life in prison during the beginning.
Less happy memories appeared too; Mahiru’s weakened state growing worse and worse, Shidou’s last words filled with compassion and care that she did not accept. The overall bleakness in the air she had tried to ignore by the time of Kotoko’s attacks. They were sad, but nostalgic, so she embraced.
She arrived back at the times she spent with Fuuta; how she did her best to help him through God’s teachings. How she reached out her hand to him, how he accepted it. Laughter, childish discussions that felt meaningful. She had fun those days… Little by little, her world had been expanding. She wondered if that was freedom.
The sensation reminded her of hope. If freedom was being happy through other’s joy, maybe it wasn’t that bad of a thing.
Her body shook with conflicting emotions head to toe, but she felt herself finally starting to calm down. Deep breaths, she reminded herself.
Keeping the promises she made to both Shidou and Fuuta fresh inside her soul, she took a glance at her mother’s deceased body; the body which was dead because of her.
A determination previously unknown to her suddenly took over her body. Her troubled mind felt like it was filled with clarity. Before she was able to regret it, she grabbed her mother’s phone.
“Deep breaths,” she told herself, her hands shaking.
She dialed the number slowly through the broken screen and called. Static resounded through the speakers, then a voice came from the other side. The person speaking asked her a question, probably. She ignored its contents, too focused on speaking the words she had prepared to concentrate on anything else.
With all the strength she could muster, she talked.
“...I-is… dead…,” she managed, immediately fainting afterwards.
More questions were asked, no answers were given. Amane was only half conscious; not awake enough to move or think, but enough to know one thing for sure.
Police were already on their way.
—
2019.
TRAIN TO TOKYO.
As the train got closer to the station and the scenery inevitably changed, Amane looked at the scars on her arm which her parents had left on her. Years had passed, but those would always remain the same.
She rolled her sleeve up again, hiding the hurt. Instead, she checked her phone again, smiling at her savescreen. It was quite simple; just her and her cat, an endearing scene of her mundane days.
A message popped on her phone from her tutor, the one who had helped her so much in this search. ‘Are you there yet?,’ it read. ‘Yes,’ she replied, as always, directly to the point. She skimmed through the more recent text history; details about her train ride for safety, a photo of her tutor cat sitting Airi-chan.
And of course, right before that, the Twitter screenshots of what Amane now recognized as Fuuta’s account. Pazuzu Soccer April 19th.
She could have just sent a message, but she had waited so long at that point that she took the first train available to her. Just as she was beginning to lose hope, God had sent her a sign. She was not about to let it pass.
The train slowed down. She wondered how Fuuta had changed, if he had changed. They had a lot to talk about, and she couldn’t help but feel excited.
“Fuuta,” she whispered to herself, almost as a prayer.
“I’m back.”