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"Kyo... suke..."
Her voice trips over the familiar name - much less familiar now, a part of her muses - as she stares up at the Remnant towering over her.
It's plain for all to see that this man has truly been corrupted by Junko Enoshima. One eye is haphazardly covered by bandages, the other a gleaming red. Instead of the formal attire he always wore before the Tragedy, there's a form-fitting tank top and skinny jeans. In all honesty, it looks more like something Juzo would wear (would have worn) than something benefiting the Ultimate Student Council President.
Speaking of Juzo...
She has to tear her gaze away from her friend's corpse (rapidly-cooling) and back to Kyosuke's one remaining eye. It's empty, devoid of all emotion, and she finds herself about to laugh.
At least Juzo didn't have to see him this way.
Stabbed in the back - quite literally. Somehow, she feels he might have been luckier.
"Chisa."
Kyosuke's voice - flat, emotionless, dull, three words she never wanted to be able to apply - pierces the oppressive silence, and she sucks in a slow breath. They're all that's left of this task force, and somehow she's fairly certain that there won't be any survivors of the task force.
He nudges Juzo's corpse with his foot, messy white hair still stained with his blood. "Pity. I would have liked to see the despair on his face."
Chisa can't find the bravery to move. All she can do is stare, transfixed by Kyosuke's radiance as she's always been.
He unsheathes his sword, crimson rivulets still rolling down the blade. "I'd say this won't hurt, but I've never been a liar."
She stares into his eyes, searching for some sign of humanity. Searching for some sign of the man she fell in love with.
She finds none.
A faint smile on her face, Chisa closes her eyes as the blade whistles towards her neck.
"If we ever see him again... do you think he'll be proud of us?"
Juzo stares her down, hurt hidden behind his blood-red eyes. Chisa shrugs - it's a question she doesn't have the answer to, as well as one she's been trying to decide for herself - and eventually decides to smile. "I think he'd be happy to know we're fighting for hope."
"Stop talking like he's dead."
Juzo rubs the back of his neck, apparently flustered. He doesn't like it when he snaps - after Kyosuke disappeared, whatever soft edges he may have worn on the boxer have reverted to razor-sharp corners - but he likes reigning himself in even less.
It's nice that he's making an effort, though.
"He's not dead," Juzo repeats, as though his words can make it real. "He can't be dead."
Chisa sighs, wrapping her arms around her friend's midsection. "We both... we failed him, didn't we?"
"Yeah..." Juzo trails off, returning the hug gingerly. "We did. We really did."
"Why can't I do it?"
Kyosuke stares down at the sword, then back to Chisa. Chisa Yukizome, someone who he should be able to kill.
The prospect of despair this great is intoxicating.
Still, he finds his grip on the sword weak, far too weak for someone who cherishes despair above everything else.
Chisa's eyes are squeezed shut as a bit of blood trickles down her alabaster skin, tears rolling down her cheeks. It's sad - he doesn't want her to feel sad - but he can barely breathe.
It's a struggle to suck in the tainted, blood-soaked air of the apocalypse, something he's previously relished.
"You..."
Chisa smiles - sadly, he realizes, but still smiling. "Juzo... was lucky. He didn't... he didn't have to see you like this."
She lowers her head, despite the metal biting into the flesh of her throat. If anything, he'd think she realizes it's even there. "But I still love you... Kyosuke."
His name on her lips sends a chill down his spine, and he stares her down, the blade shaking slightly as he does. "A bad decision, really."
He has to do it.
He can't not.
A sardonic smile perched on his lips, he raises the sword, ready to slice through flesh and bone until it encounters her jugular.
"I love you, Kyosuke."
The sword comes down.
The white-haired man sits on a dock of Jabberwock Island, trying to come to terms with his memories.
There's a gap, somehow. In one instant, a shred of memory overwhelms him, and in the next, nothing.
Gone.
"I'm glad it worked."
The voice comes from a wheelchair, and Kyosuke turns, staring up at the face of Miaya Gekkogahara. "I am as well."
"You're forgetting something."
It's stated so flatly that he can't help but nod, turning dead eyes down to the sea. "...who was that woman? The one in the simulation?"
Miaya smiles at him, a weak smile full of loss. "Her name was... Chisa Yukizome. A good friend of mine."
"Did I... know her?"
"Yes," Miaya replies as the setting sun casts them in shades of crimson and gold. "You two were very close."
"Did I... love her?"
"I think so." Miaya replies evenly.
"Did she... did she love me?"
"More than life itself."
"I'm sorry... Chisa. Juzo."
Flower petals weave through the air, and he bitterly remembers the day they graduated.
"I am... so, so sorry."
They'll never hear it.