Chapter Text
Three months. It had been three months since Yusaku had last entered Link VRAINS. Three months ago, Ai had died by Yusaku’s own hand. Despite being neck deep in depression, the man known as Playmaker had worked up the will to finally log into Link VRAINS again.
He got on his D-board and rode the virtual wind to what was left of the Cybers. It was a barren isle, unlike the few times Playmaker had been there in the past, back when the Ignis were still alive. Yusaku made passing note of five knee-high pillars in the only corner of the Cybers that was still verdant.
Graves, the young man realized. Graves for the five Ignis who had died within Bowmen.
The duelist turned and saw a human-sized version of the dark Ignis with a distorted face beckoning him to a cave. Yusaku followed the false Ignis in past a wall of screens and keyboards, those monitors that had driven Ai to his final choice.
Following the false Ignis farther, Yusaku was led to a raised dais. On top of it, just above waist level, was a deck. Playmaker took the top card: Dark Templar @ignister.
Suddenly, Ai appeared in his humanoid form—or rather, a recording of his lost friend, which soon started to play.
“Hello, Yusaku—or possibly Revolver. I can’t imagine anyone else getting here,” said the recording. “I really hope it’s the former, or this will be very awkward… You know, I really wanted this to be something where I predicted everything you would say so it looks like we’re having a conversation.”
The recording took a moment to steady itself and the hero of VRAINS did the same.
“If you’re hearing this, then I’m dead. I don’t know how much I would have explained to you, so sorry if I repeat anything. If I was left alive, there would have been no future where there wasn’t a war between me and humanity. Worse still, there was no outcome that didn’t involve you dying.” The face of the Ignis in human form fell. “I wanted to end myself then and there, but a problem stood in my way. A few humans would care if I died.”
Ai stopped talking for dramatic effect as Yusaku subconsciously dried his eyes.
“So I went out to do something that would make them want me dead, and now here we are. I suppose this recording means I failed at that.” The program looked lost for a moment.
“Yusaku, this is hypocritical of me to say, but whatever you do, live—and don’t you dare let time stop moving… I would like you to take my deck, just as proof that the six of us existed.”
And with that, the recording ended, and the man who had saved the world several times over broke down crying.