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The air is finally still.
The stillness clings to him. It wraps its arms around him. It fills his ears, his nose, his lungs, his throat. It suffocates him.
The city is destroyed. Rubble piles around him in mountains. A fire burns somewhere off in the distance, spewing ash and smoke into a sky already torn asunder. No one moves, no one breathes. The only sound is his heart, thumping, thumping in his chest.
They won. They won the war. Leo Akaba lies dead on the roof of LDS. His army lies dead in the streets of Maiami. They won.
And yet, as he walks, all he sees is the motionless forms of his allies. Yuzu, crumpled against the side of a skyscraper, half her face eaten away by what is unmistakably Starving Venom’s venom. Shun, frozen solid at the edge of the park, struck down by Rin’s Crystal Bell before they were able to find the Doktor. Gongenzaka, flat on his back, arms outspread, a giant mechanical fang through his heart. Tsukikage, pinned down next to the school and hacked to pieces, an Amazonness’s sword still lodged in his side. Serena, ribs crushed in, Lunalight Cat Dancer’s broken form sprawled atop Dystopia’s, at her feet.
And Reira. Out on the street in front of the ruins of the You Show Duel School, C/C Critical Eye still on their face, their body bruised from so many collisions with the Ancient Gear Giants that lie ruined around them.
He walks on. He passes them all, leaves their empty shells behind. He counts in his head to some number that is far, far too high. He passes into a part of the city he used to recognize.
“I could’ve told you, Reiji Akaba.”
Mieru is standing before him suddenly, hands on her hips, her entire body shaking.
“I could’ve told you what the cost of your war would be.”
She looks down and to the side, at the body that was once Yuya Sakaki, now twisted and contorted past any natural limits of the human body. One of Starving Venom’s jaws is clamped around his leg and dissolving it as they watch. A few feet away, thrown against the carcass of his dragon, is Yuri, neck snapped, blood pooling around him.
“It was written in the stars from the beginning,” Mieru says, voice now shaking too. A tear forms in the corner of her eye. “It was written in the stars. I could’ve told you.”
He watches as she squeezes her eyes shut, breathing uneven, hiccupping. Her tears are like great, shining pearls, oozing their way down to her chin and falling to the ground below. She presses her fists to her eyes and rushes away, shoulders still shaking.
He walks on, leaving Yuya and Yuri and their dragons’ deathly embrace behind him.
He walks the broken avenues of his home. Past children in blue jackets with mechanical gears piled beside them. Past children too young to have fought in this war, their dead monsters crushing their dead bodies. Past allies he doesn’t recognize, known to him only because they don’t bear Academia’s mark. Past bodies and blood and ruins and death.
It was written in the stars, Reiji Akaba.
He reaches Sawatari, standing up, standing still, eyes glazed over and empty.
“We won.” The words pass through the dry husks that are Sawatari’s lips. “Crow, he…”
Crow’s body is thrown at Sawatari’s feet, a spear through his side. Here, another ally he had forgotten.
“He…” Sawatari turns his head towards Reiji, creakingly slow. His eyes don’t focus. He crumples to the ground, and his hands flop limply to the dust.
He walks on, and leaves Sawatari alone with his guilt.
Look up at the stars, Reiji. What do you see?
That voice he hasn’t heard in what feels like a lifetime. The details have slipped from his mind; the words come to him instead with an impression of the feelings they once carried, with the warm, lively tone their owner bestowed them with.
I see constellations, I suppose, his own voice had said in reply. Calm, maybe a bit perplexed, but still unburdened by a war’s death toll. Over there is Cassiopeia, see.
I see a story. That had been the reply, hadn’t it? A grand tale, full of wondrous adventures, impossible loves, captivating mystery—all those things that truly make a life worth living. A voice full of awe, full of peace, full of a sweetness that is so far removed from the nightmare he inhabits now. And there, Reiji, see? There, high up there, in the place between those brightest stars? There is the spot for our story.
He passes the burned out shell of a hospital. His eyes detect movement amid the rubble, but he only walks on.
“Reiji Akaba!”
This new voice is furious. It is not the voice ringing in his ears. It is still familiar, but the stillness it broke has dulled his mind, and he can’t place it.
“Reiji Akaba!”
This time, Sora appears in the middle of his field of vision to identify himself. His eyes are red and his clothes are bloodied. The red of the blood is even brighter against the blue of his jacket. Academia’s jacket. Sora was a traitor, too.
“You ass! Was it worth it? Huh? Was it worth all these deaths?” Sora runs up to him. His face is twisted in rage. “What happened to your precious plan? Didn’t you tell us it would all be okay, if we just followed your plan? Is this what you planned for?”
His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, Reiji thinks he’s going to punch him.
Instead, he punches the ground in front of him. And he spits at Reiji as he walks away, leaving a dark spot on the ground. It looks as if yet another drop of blood has fallen at Reiji’s feet.
He walks on, and reaches his own building. It’s still standing, despite the battle, not even a single window shattered from the combined fury of four dimensions.
Academia’s attack is planned for two weeks from now. This is the voice he can’t quite remember, again. We have time to collect allies in Xyz. Its owner had run a hand through Reiji’s hair and tightened the scarf around his neck, after returning home from yet another spy mission. Your plan is going perfectly.
He climbs the steps, one at a time, up and up and up.
The voice shifts to something softer, to whispers in the middle of the night, to promises given in feather-light kisses.
It’ll be written in the stars, Reiji. Our story. You and me, for eternity.
He steps out onto the roof. Oblivion King Abyss Ragnarok’s throne sits on Leo Akaba’s legs. His head has been bashed in.
And he stands there, staring at the corpse in front of him.
He thought, when he arrived here, that he would feel rage. That he would feel sorrow. That he would want to shout and curse and cry at this mess of blood and limbs that he once called his father. But he only feels tired. He only feels empty.
And he only wants that voice. That voice, that had once whispered to him about the stars, about dreams and hope and love, about how they, the two of them, together, would bring down all that was evil and all that was wrong in their worlds. That had soothed him on nights when the worry left him wide awake, that had brought him happiness and laughter when all around him was grim importance.
“Reiji.”
And then there it is. This is the voice.
He turns, and there he is. Dennis.
Dennis stands there, orange jacket somehow spotless, one gloved hand resting on his hip. His mouth curls up into a mockery of a smile. “Ah, but what a mess you’ve made, Reiji.”
And Reiji is frozen. He can only stare, as his heart somehow still dares to beat.
“Dennis,” he finally manages to say. He tries to straighten to his full height. He raises one trembling hand to push his glasses up.
“What a tragedy, this day has become.” Dennis walks to him, and presses one hand against his cheek. He flinches.
The corner of Dennis’s mouth flicks upwards. “Now, now, Reiji, don’t be like that. After everything you and I have been through?”
He trails his hand down further, to his neck, to his exposed collarbone. Reiji shudders.
“Wasn’t it a fun game we played?” Dennis’s eyes are bluer in the day. They shine at Reiji, and he can’t look away. “Me, the charming, enigmatic stranger. You, the harried, trusting battle tactician.”
Dennis pulls his hand away. The wind is cold as it lashes against Reiji’s skin.
“The lies, the mystery, the intrigue!” He throws his arms up as he speaks, and his laugh grates against Reiji’s ears. “Truly, an edge-of-your-seat kind of show. You should be delighted to have been part of such a wondrous performance.”
He steps in close again, placing one hand on Reiji’s arm to pull him in. “Tell me,” he whispers into his ear. “Did I do a good job entertaining you? I know I enjoyed it.”
He lets out a puff of warm air that tickles the shell of Reiji’s ear, and it sends something horrible crawling up his throat.
“Oh, but that’s right,” Dennis says. “You never did fully trust me, did you?” And he laughs again, and this one is cruel. “But you needed me. That was the best part.”
Dennis steps away, but the terrible feeling doesn’t fade. It suffocates him, it claws at him until pain is shooting through every part of his body, until he has no choice but to release the words forcing their way out of his mouth.
“He’s dead now,” Reiji chokes out. “Akaba’s dead, and his insane cause is destroyed. Why are you still doing this?”
And it’s as if he flipped some kind of switch. Dennis’s smile drops. His orange hair droops against the sides of his face, and his hand falls from his hip.
“Have to see it through to the end,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that replaces the pain slicing through Reiji’s body with deep, crushing dread.
Dennis backs away, towards the edge of the roof. “The show must go on, after all. Isn’t that what they always say?” He laughs, once, softly.
Reiji only stares, eyes widening in horror as he watches Dennis reach the ledge that rims the roof. Then he rushes to him, a sudden, terrible realization fueling his movements.
“It’s not too late,” he says, and Dennis must hear the desperation in his voice.
But Dennis only shakes his head in response, his gaze turned down, hair falling forward to shadow his face. “Don’t stop me. I only stayed this long to see you again,” he says. “Our friends are dead, after all. I lost the war. And I lost you.”
His hand grips the ledge. Reiji sees his whole body tense, and then he pushes himself up, leaping onto it, feet crossed perfectly as he lands.
Dennis raises his head then, and his eyes are wild and shining with tears. Reiji reaches up to him, his whole body shaking. Dennis reaches back down to him, pressing his hands against the side of Reiji’s head. He gives him one last kiss.
“Don’t forget me,” he whispers. “Write us into the stars.”
And then he straightens, and jumps backwards, and a scream can’t even form in Reiji’s throat before he’s gone.
His fingers twitch against empty air.
The rooftop is quiet, and still. The only sounds he hears are the thumping of his heart and the dying echoes from a past life.
They’ll write us into the stars one day.
He turns away, from the edge, from the bodies, from the silence. He walks the hundreds of steps out of his building, and he returns to the ruins of the world he’d tried to save.
They’ll write us into the stars, and we’ll shine above everyone, my love.