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“Why do you think I shot you?”
“I never really thought about it.”
Tsumuri frowns, not buying it. In general it’s a terrible idea to trust the words out of Ukiyo Ace’s mouth. It’s also true that she generally trusts his plan of action.
“I saw your face,” Tsumuri says. “You weren’t surprised when you died, you’ve made it very clear you thought it was best to disappear.” Ace frowns, just a little. Tsumuri continues anyways. “But why do you think I did it?”
Ace leans back and looks at her carefully. Analyzing. As though she wasn’t the one with questions.
“I think you’ve been in pain for a very long time,” he says. “And I’ve been around a lot, haven’t I? Testing you.”
“Is that you admitting it?” Tsumuri asks.
“It matters, what people choose,” Ace says. That’s an admission alright, for him. “You’ve impressed me, with the whole picture. Or is there something new?”
She hates how clever he is, how often he takes grand reveals in stride. But maybe that’s why…
“They’ve started two new Desire Grand Prix series,” she says. Ace’s eyebrow quirks. “…And you knew that.”
“I might have met a Tsumuri all in black, once before,” Ace says. “I’m sure it’ll find the ending it deserves.”
“And the other me?”
“I was just a player,” Ace says, as though any version of him had been content with that. “I wouldn’t know. Do you?”
Tsumuri looks away.
She thinks about the pain and helplessness she felt, chained up under Jitt and Samas’ hands. The betrayal she felt over Keiwa while also watching him wither in that place alongside her…
She thinks about Black Tsumuri separating from her. Even as she knelt there, in shock and horror at the blood which faded into rain, violent and messy and greyed from walls… it had almost been a relief. It had left her frozen and numb and confused and guilty all the more. She didn’t move, even when Ace left her, not until the end of the world.
She thinks about Black Tsumuri with the blank face, coming to her for help to protect people.
“It needs to end,” she says.
“It does,” Ace says. “How do you think you felt, when you shot me?”
“…Tired,” Tsumuri says. “And… relieved.”
That smile she made with Tsumuri’s face was the only thing Black Tsumuri had ever shown so openly.
“I don’t know what it means,” Tsumuri says.
“Alright,” Ace says, and they return to silence.
“Even if you accept it, do you blame us?” Tsumuri asks another day. “…Me.”
“Of course not, Nee-San,” Ace says. “I told you I was ready, and now we’re here.”
“That’s not what she… not what I… not what was wanted,” Tsumuri says. “Didn’t you say it’s what we choose?”
“Yes,” Ace says. “And?”
“I’ll never understand you, will I?” Tsumuri asks, frowning.
“I’d say you’re one of the closest,” Ace says. He grins. How can he treat this all so lightly?
“Am I?”
“You are my sister.”
“I’m not your—” Tsumuri groans, cutting herself off. “No, forget it. Why are you like this?”
“I’m just me,” Ace replies. “And you weren’t yourself.”
“She was me,” Tsumuri says. “She said I wished for it. I don’t know what that means.”
“It means whatever you decide,” Ace says. “Or did you forget Tycoon.”
“That’s different,” Tsumuri says.
She wanted to hate Keiwa, but mostly it had just hurt. She wanted to help him, and—
And she did, but…
“Is it?” Ace asks. “What do you want from these questions, Nee-San?”
“I…” Tsumuri thinks. “I don’t want to let that pain continue.”
Ace hmms.
“Alright then,” he says. “And now it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“…What?”
Ace grins.
“Why do you think I left you here?” He asks.
“Because your game needs a navigator.”
“No, not the first time,” Ace says, “The second time.”
…Oh.
“To watch over your temple, I suppose,” Tsumuri says. Except that doesn’t sound right because if that was all it was, she’s seen Neon. That was Ace’s idea of… “Was it something else?”
“Your wish wasn’t in that empty future,” Ace says. “I’ve always seen the way you watch over players.”
“You knew Ziin would come back.”
Ace lifts his hand like a fox.
“I had my suspicions,” he says. “But I knew more than that. I knew you would find a way with time.”
“I don’t know if I did,” Tsumuri says. “Why does she exist?”
“I always knew you had two people inside of you,” Ace says. “The navigator, and the woman who eats melon bread for lunch every day. I imagine there was also a lot of fear, knowing the stories of your predecessors.”
…Sometimes. Tsumuri always pushed it down. The guilt, the fear… it’s not like she could do anything about it.
Better to take what time she could.
She always enjoyed her time between cameras. And her time off it.
“I don’t think she’s either,” Tsumuri says. “Both belong right here.”
“Then what do you think she is?”
She…
She’s empty– no.
“Pain.”
But Tsumuri isn’t in pain, herself.
Not anymore.