Chapter Text
The world, as Takuto recalls later, did not end with a bang.
Instead it drowns in silence—a silence that only breaks when he gasps, and the sound echoes in his ears as his eyes fly open to meet the dull, dirty, smudges of the ceiling above his bed.
The familiarity of the sight makes him relax for a fraction of a second before the memories of everything come rushing back to him. Takuto jerks upwards, trying to shift himself into a seating position, but all he gets is a wave of pain that slams through his whole body as it screams in protest from his attempt to move.
Takuto tries again, but he doesn’t even last ten seconds before he’s forced to give up because it hurts all too much. His body is sore in places he knows has never been sore before, and when he turns his head the side of his face stings from the punch that Kurusu had given him—
(the cold winter wind cuts into him as he hangs defeated, only alive because of the red, gloved hand that stubbornly clutches around his own.
“Please… let go of my hand.”
grey eyes flash back at him at those words, the defiant flame from their earlier battle now smouldering into determination—one so similar to his own, and yet so very different at the same time. they could never be the same, for they were the one who won.
“We’re going back together.” kurusu grits out the words in between clenched teeth, one eye closing as he winces from his continued extensions but still doing all he can to keep takuto from falling. “I won’t let it end like this.”)
Takuto feels his left hand throb from how Kurusu had held on so, so tightly, so determined to hold on for him when Taukto himself no longer had the will to. He’d held on all the way until his friends arrived, and even after that he continued to hold on as Morgana brought them out of the reality that Takuto had created as it crumbled into dust all around them.
There’s nothing left of it now, he knows. His Palace, his reality, his Persona—it's all gone. Gone just like Rumi.
Taukto squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself to breathe.
He fought, and he had lost, fair and square.
Now all he can do is to pick up the pieces.
Time, after that, passes by in a blur. Takuto doesn’t remember much aside from forcing himself to get out of bed every few hours in order to take care of his basic needs. He can’t recover if he stays stagnant on the bed, after all.
He knows the Thieves won’t bother to come and find him. For one, none of them know where he lives—and more importantly, they’ll be too occupied with trying to get Kurusu out of prison, where he’s gone to now that there’s no longer Akechi to take his place.
Takuto remembers how accomplished he felt then, to be able to alter that reality. It’d been the first thing he did once he realized the extent of his powers, as a show of gratitude to Kurusu. After all, if it hadn’t been for his help, Takuto knows he wouldn’t be here now.
He’d kept watch as Kurusu celebrated their victory with the rest of the Thieves, and later as they enjoyed their well-deserved rest. He’d felt the silent regrets of every one of them, the pain they’d suffered to bring about their reality, the hurt they had to bury so they could move on without it weighing them down.
It wasn’t fair, he had thought then, his own heart weeping for the pain they had to endure. It wasn’t fair that these children carried these burdens that were so unfairly thrusted upon them by an unjust society. They deserved to be happy after all that they’ve been through.
So that was what he did. He gave all of them what they wanted—friends, family, a place to belong. And to Kurusu, he gave a second chance, another opportunity to get what he was forced to let go from his grasp. He’d been so sure then how happy they would all be.
And they were—at least, for a while.
But even after having experienced happiness, they still ended up choosing the harder path. Even Sumire, who’d once been so broken that she could think of no other option except to end it all.
(“I don’t think what you’re saying is wrong either, Dr. Maruki… some people want to run from their pain and cling to some other version of reality… like I used to.
But the knowledge I gained through that pain, and my desire to move on… those are even more precious to me!”)
Could he have that strength too? Did he even deserve it now, after his failure?
He doesn’t know.
Or perhaps, he doesn’t want to know.