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Even decades later, Makoto can only stand outside those worn school grounds in a tired, reminiscent state. Every year since his escape, he’s thought about entering those seemingly haunted grounds, filled with lost memories of a past he tried so desperately to remember. He, much like those faded and aged brick walls, had seen much younger, more energetic days. But, as he knows better than any, time does not stop for anyone, leaving the older man to make slow, gentle steps through rusted, deteriorating gates.
Each step is slow, nearing painful, as the bricks below him ache at the forgotten weight of a human. Makoto presses himself forward with his cane, looking around the courtyard with a gentle smile.
Moss and vibes have long since wrapped around towering, broken light poles, large weeds have taken root between cracked sidewalks, flowers sway in that gentle breeze that leave him looking on dreamily. He slowly hikes up crumbling steps, gently using his cane to support him up as he uses fragile hands to push open heavy wooden doors. It creaks open, almost invitingly, having been untouched for all those decades since his teenage hood, as dust-filled, musty air surrounds him. He looks around dark halls, unprepared for those faded memories of a life he’d forgotten seeming to finally steadily surface.
The life before that fateful time - the peaceful life of an average teenage boy before the killing game, and even before despair had come to rule the world. A life before he’d become The Ultimate Hope, before he’d fought to restore humanity to somewhat of its former glory once more. And of course, life was still not perfect. He’d seen society before an apocalyptic era, and the aftermath of recovery in his growing age. Things had changed, never quite the same, but humanity was moving forward. People were coming together once again, filled with a belief in the future.
And the world no longer needed Makoto Naegi to make that dream a reality, not when a new generation of hope had been born and raised. Society was strengthening now, filled with promise that the future held its own hope. Even in the face of despair, people were fighting back - filled with determination - even understanding the balance between the two to experience life. With cities and towns being rebuilt once again and even academies developing to recover the world, he’d witnessed the structuring of a brighter future; one that would continue strong long after he would soon pass over.
Now, in the time of others taking the lead to continue his work, he could return to his roots. His muscles tired and his bones aged, wishing one last time to remember those years of being a carefree teenager in his nearing final moments.
Each hallway that he limped down revealed more of those lost memories that he’d been promised were erased forever - but now, they surface in his eyes as his cane allows him to slowly, weakly press forward. The ghosts of old friends follow behind him, it seems, as he hears shared laughter from empty classrooms. The sounds of shoes against tile floors between classes, the roar of boys wrestling against each other - even the sounds of the intercom echo in his mind. He thinks he can see Sakura walk beside him, her smile gentle as she watches him warmly. She seems to rest a hand on his shoulder, helping him walk as he smiles softly at her. Others slowly appear around him, too, all watching him curiously or with warm expressions - understanding, even.
The way Leon folds his arms over his chest as he eyes him curiously, the way Sayaka giggles softly when Makoto looks longingly at the ghosts of Hifumi and Celeste bantering playfully at each other in one of the empty, decaying classrooms. Makoto continues walking, allowing his brain to slowly fade those lines - allowing decay to flicker between reality and those lost memories.
But then one student in particular begins to surface before his eyes and his old heart begins to ache in heartbreaking familiarity. He can almost see him down that decaying hallway, his shoulders stiff and the back of his black hair cropped - and when that ghost seems to sense him and slowly turns around with bright crimson eyes, Makoto’s breath catches. It’s like falling in love all over again, reminding him of that first day of school when this very moment had happened.
And they stare at each other across planes of existence - and Makoto can only think about how angelic the other looks in that moment. He remembers feeling the same way all those decades ago, that warmth that left his shoulders sagging and his heart impossibly full. The way the sunlight had beamed through open windows, glistening against that uniform - giving him that angelic glow that had stopped Makoto in his tracks that day. Today was no different, leaving his mind to replay that fateful moment for him once more.
He feels hot tears form in his eyes as the other’s eyebrows furrow for just a moment, still staring at him in a long moment of analyzing gaze, before the ghost begins to grin widely in sudden recognition. He can hear the echos of boots rapidly running toward him, rushing to greet him as that ghost begins to sob before him.
And Makoto has to place a hand over his chest, breaking that eye contact with that ghostly figment to choke back a sob in dull, aching agony. That this wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. His mind is playing tricks on him now, either in cruelty or in blessing, but he just continues to cry.
He supposes this is delayed - from decades of grief suppressed so deep, finally surfacing when faced with the remembrance of a lost lover long missed. He cries from heartbreak, from years of fighting in the name of the very love he had so little time with in this lifetime. And in this single moment, he can suddenly remember warm hands intertwined under wooden desks on sunset evenings and stolen kisses in bathroom stalls during hushed lunch periods. Those whispered promises of a future together snatched away in the apocalyptic era, stolen unjustly from between them. The promises of a lifetime of love between two lovestruck classmates, taken from him so early on.
He finds himself slinking to the floor, his worn legs struggling to keep him upright any longer as he allows himself to slowly fade from life. His consciousness seems to follow his gentle demise as his chest aches solemnly and dully - a reminder of his fragility at this ending stage of his life. But, even so, he doesn’t have regrets - taking the transition in hopeful stride. In those last blinking moments, he thinks he can see everyone clearly, then. Sakura, Saiyaka, Mondo, Hifumi, Chihiro, Leon, Celeste - and even the very boy he’d loved so deeply, stand before him, surrounding him. The last thing he sees before his vision fades is those crimson eyes staring down at him, worry and pity blatant as he tiredly smiles and relaxes into that welcoming dark abyss.
And then he blinks blearily and slowly, as if waking from an unexpected nap. He is no longer the old man he was, he realizes, as his body feels suddenly lighter. The dull aches in joints have disappeared completely - there is refreshed and renewed vigor in his sleepy movements. He is a teenager once more, he finds, as his eyebrows furrow when he sits up, looking down at much younger hands. Everyone’s eyes widen at him when he looks around, meeting tearful expressions. He looks behind him, watching his old body dissipating in the changing scenery of the school - into something far more reminiscent to what he remembered as a teenager. The hallways are cleared from decay as distant students begin to fill the space, those shattered lights above them are renewed and shining brightly down on them, that distant sunset settles into a soft orange glow through open windows, and the whole world suddenly feels refreshed.
And suddenly strong arms are wrapping tightly around him, squeezing him enough to make everything up until this waking moment seem almost like a bad dream. He smiles as he wraps his own arms around the taller boy collapsed before him, squeezing just as tightly as tears begin to slide down his cheeks in genuine, overwhelming happiness. He’s tangible - he can actually feel him again. It wasn’t a dream that he would suddenly wake from, but a genuine weight, a genuine grasp. His fingers curl into that uniform even more, holding the other chest to chest with him, never willing to let go again.
“You’re finally home, Naegi-kun!” A warbled, overwhelmingly happy voice cries into his ear.
And Makoto laughs then, a bubbly and heartfelt and relieved laugh, as he nuzzles into that warm nook, between that same, white crisp uniform and soft black hair. And he remembers all the times he’d done so before, only relishing now in the ability to finally embrace the other again. It’s all so warm in that moment and his heart is so overwhelmingly full, he’s sure his heart will explode once more. He can feel the other press hard against him until they’re both falling back against the renewed tile floor again. Hands unravel from around his torso to hold his cheeks, mere moments passing between them before warm lips are hurriedly pressed against his. He presses back just as fervently, a heated desperation felt heavily between them.
And it’s everything. Decades of guilt, sadness and bone-deep loneliness fade away in that moment; and all Makoto can do is kiss the other with decades of want. To portray a lifetime of love in a single kiss - it’s impossible, but he does everything he can to express it.
And he’s almost afraid to open his eyes at first, fearful that this will all fade away in that small moment. But when he does finally open his eyes again as their lips separate, he’s only met with bright, watery crimson eyes staring into his own happily once more. He smiles, wide and lovingly as he floats in a romantic bliss he’d long since forgotten. He leans forward to rest his forehead against the other’s, his body melting into his lover’s embrace. He wraps his arms around the other’s neck, never willing to let the other stray away - never wanting to go a moment without touching the other again. The other boy is so tenderly warm and his weight is so comforting against his own body; he thinks this really must be a slice of heaven.
And the other boy is holding him so tight - a silent promise to never let go again. Makoto can only cry happily in that moment, feeling whole again as his friends laugh softly around them.
He leans in, then, to hum warmly into their shared space with a tender voice.
“I’m finally home, Kiyotaka.”