Chapter Text
Revolver can only watch.
He can only stare, eyes gold and blank, face betraying nothing, as the Tower of Hanoi collapses. As the last thing his father had created falls. As everything he'd worked on crumbles before him, everything lost.
He lost to Playmaker. His father is gone, his work, the tower, it's breaking apart, gone, gone, gone.
Maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's not. Only the future will tell. But the sense that he has lost so much in the process is an ache in his chest, vividly present now, slowly crashing into him like waves, crashing like the tower in front of him.
Out of the corner of his vision he can feel Playmaker watching him, senses there's something he wants to say, but Revolver doesn't give him the chance. He's watched enough.
He logs out, tearing his eyes from the end result. Ryoken lets out a small breath and opens his eyes, back in the real world, greeted by the very last warm rays of sunset, sky starting to turn dark outside. There's something that pulls him to look behind him, to his father's lying figure, cold and lifeless. He feels there's something he should say to him, even though he's long gone from the world; perhaps an apology, maybe an explanation, maybe all the thoughts and feelings he'd bottled in his heart ever since that day ten years ago when all he could hear were the children screaming, all for the Hanoi Project, all for a project his father would end up wishing to destroy.
But he says nothing, feeling eyes looking at him again. He turns slowly, Yusaku standing there and watching him, his brow creased just slightly. With worry, Ryoken contemplates, and almost wants to laugh. The boy that had sworn revenge on Hanoi, his enemy, worried for him. The boy he'd saved, the boy he'd given comfort to, all those years ago, looking at him with soft eyes and concern. It's all too much, the duality of the situation.
“It's over, now. You won.” Ryoken says, simply. Because what else is there to say? What else is there to do? He starts to walk away, moving past Yusaku, but he's quickly stopped by a hand grabbing his arm.
“No.” Yusaku's voice makes him turn, meeting Yusaku's green eyes, firm, vibrant, pulling him in. “It's not over, Revolver.”
“It is.” It's a whisper, almost defeated, but he refuses to crumble right now. “The tower is gone, my father is gone, Hanoi is over. There is nothing left for me to do.” 'I have nothing left.'
“You're wrong.” Before he even knows what's happening, Yusaku is stepping forward, his arms wrapping loosely around him and Ryoken can only freeze in place, arms hovering at his sides and unsure what to do.
“You're wrong.” Yusaku reiterates, firmer. “This...is only the beginning.” There's a small pause. “When I was trapped and felt like I would loose all hope, that I would fall into despair...your voice comforted me. It pushed me to my feet, to keep fighting. If not for you I might have given up. I might not be here. You gave me strength.” His arms tight the slightest around Ryoken and he manages to look down at Yusaku. “And I told you, ever since then...I kept wanting to save you. And I won't go back on my word.”
Yusaku lifts his head enough to meet his eyes again and Ryoken's breath catches. “This isn't over. You can walk on a new path, from now on. And If you are about to fall in the way, this time I'll catch you.”
Yusaku's words are sincere, Ryoken can sense no lie behind them or see anything false in his determined expression. It's funny, almost, but it's more puzzling than anything, how this boy, that'd had chased and chased after Revolver and Hanoi to crush him and have his revenge, is now reaching for Ryoken, saying there is some hope for a future Ryoken can't see. There's some many pieces in the picture that clash and don't fit, the fact they are enemies, but they keep being pulled into each other because of something different, a different feeling, warmer, comforting.
Ryoken feels the ache in his chest constrict his heart, feels it making cracks in the face he'd so carefully constructed.
He doesn't think he deserves this comfort right now, not from Yusaku of all people, after everything. There is still so much unsaid between them. So many loose ends, an unpaved path before them. But Yusaku is still reaching and it's so, so unfair, how his honest eyes are the thing that makes him crumble.
Something must have showed in his face because Yusaku's eyebrows crease, looking concerned again, but Ryoken acts fast; his arms finally move, wrapping around Yusaku's shoulders and pulling him back against his chest, not letting him see his face.
“You're a fool, Fujiki Yusaku.” His voice cracks the slightest, easily played off with a raspy laugh. “Helping the enemy, now?”
“Hanoi was my enemy. And it's done for.” Yusaku's words are slightly muffled against his chest. “There's no need for us to be enemies anymore...Ryoken.”
He'd been Revolver for so long, the use of his real name feels odd coming from Yusaku, yet his skin tingles all the same because of it.
“Hmph.” He doesn't know how to reply so he gives in to the urge to hide his face in Yusaku's hair. He knows he's shaking, crumbling, everything---the tower, his father's death, all they sacrificed, all that happened up to this point---crashing down on him with a massive force in that moment.
And it's here in Yusaku's unexpected embrace, face buried in his hair, that Ryoken falls, and falls, and falls, the tightness and pain in his chest coming loose and Yusaku is right there to catch him.