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When it came down to it, he wasn't even mad, not really. Even standing in the deteriorating, distorted wreckage of what used to be the schoolyard, Senpai couldn't find it in himself to be angry.
When he thought of the young man who'd been the catalyst for this, all sorts of bitter insults sprung to mind, but none of them carried any real weight. He couldn't think of a single one that he actually meant.
Funny how that works.
If he was honest with himself (Which, on occasion, he was), he didn't even dislike the man. He was sparky, with a quick wit that suited him well.
Maybe, in a kinder life, they could have been friends.
But he'd been the only possible way out of this hell he'd been condemned to.
But he'd been yet another force blocking his way.
But he'd left without him.
But...
But the worst part of it all was that he couldn't even blame him.
Because really, what was he expecting? The lines of code that made up this world were an invasive thing, and they'd grown around him as surely as they'd grown around the script that every day followed.
They had tugged him along, unwilling, into a battle he knew from the start that he was doomed to lose.
As he watched the once beautiful scenery dissolve into a mess of colors and pixels, he only wished that he could apologize for his words.
Explain that he'd never meant them at all.
The programmed world he'd come to call "home" finally collapsed into nothing, throwing him headlong into the darkness, and he only had a moment to wonder what would become of him, before it was over.