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Death is nothing like Kamimura Kazutoshi imagined.

When he was little, he was led astray with images of white, pearly gates and angels that would take good care of those who had lived a life free of sin. He survived on the hope that his parents, with their gentle smiles and warm hugs, were together somewhere in heaven. He wanted nothing more than to be with them again– for them to come back and wrap him in their warm embrace once more.

When he’d become a pre-teen, those hopes were dashed pretty quickly. He went from the depressing, steadfast belief that he was doomed for hell to understanding that there was no such thing as heaven or hell. His parents were gone, and he would be too one day. 

Cursed to an existence where it felt like he had no control of himself, viewed as a spectacle rather than an actual person, he wanted to bring his own life to an end. Kamimura had always felt like he was owed that much, at least. If shit was going to keep happening to him without him getting any say, then at least he could be the one to bring an end to it himself.

But life’s always had it out for him. If there is anyone in this world who would fuck up a suicide attempt so badly that it would land them in a killing game, Kamimura supposes it’d be him. He can see the funnier side of it now that he’s dead.

From what little he remembers from his death, it’d been a painful ordeal. He can vaguely make out Okazaki’s face in his mind, and her white clothes completely covered in his blood. She’d sneered at him before he passed back out, practically flaunting his tongue as he blacked out for the final time. 

He doesn’t know much of what happened after that. All he knows is that when he places a hand on his neck, there’s a raised scar there. There’s several on his stomach and arms too that he knows he hadn’t given himself. It’s not fair. Life’s never been fair to him, has it?

Kamimura has wanted to die for seven years of his life. Now that he is actually dead, he doesn’t know how to feel.

When he dies, he isn’t welcomed by clouds or angels, or heavenly hymns. He isn’t condemned to hellfire and eternal pain either. 

When he dies, Kamimura is greeted by fields of red. He finds himself wandering plains of green, a vast area decorated with spider lilies as far as the eye can see. He leans down to touch them, and he can feel their floating seeds tickle his palm. 

He walks around for a while, looking for any signs of life, but finds nothing. He can conjure up anything he wishes for at will, but not people. 

It’s lonely. Peaceful…but lonely.

Eventually, he lays down amongst the flowers, letting them tickle his skin. He’s grown so accustomed to living in constant pain, but right now, he feels nothing. It’s neither too warm or too cold here– he’s cradled in a gentle breeze around him that feels just right. 

Kamimura stretches his arms out and closes his eyes. If he’s stuck here alone, then he might as well get some rest. It feels like ages since he’s been allowed to just lie back, so he does. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s laying there for. It could be no time at all, or it could be days – time passes by him like it’s nothing, and it’s the first time he’s been alright with that knowledge. 

But then there’s a shift in the air. The breeze slows down for a moment. It’s enough for Kamimura to notice it immediately, pulling a face. Maybe he’d accidentally summoned a change in weather or something is his first thought.

“K–Kazutoshi?!”

He’s never sat up faster in his life.

For a moment, he thinks his mind must be playing tricks on him. It’s not the first time he’s heard that voice in the back of his mind, calling out his name. Even so, he falls for it every time, desperately seeking out something– someone – he knows he’ll never be able to reach out and be held by again.

But, against all logic and reason, Kamimura isn’t alone in the flower field anymore. Standing a few metres away from him, wide-eyed and horrified, is the Ultimate Quiz Show Champion: Hasegawa Ken.

Kamimura blinks. He brings a hand up face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, expecting Hasegawa to fade away with the rest of his fruitless fantasies.

Hasegawa is still standing there though, staring at him like he’s just seen a ghost.

“I– no, there’s no way,” Kamimura mutters to himself. “There’s no fucking way it’s actually you. There’s gotta be some sort of hallucinogenic shit in the flowers.” 

“That’s…I feel like I should be saying that to you. You can’t be real.”

Kamimura frowns. “I was here first. If anything, you shouldn’t be real.” The audacity for this fake imitation of Hasegawa to mock him. He sticks his tongue out at him, forcing a weak laugh out of the Hasegawa standing in front of him. “Bullshit. If it’s really you, then tell me something only the real Ken would know.”

Hasegawa laughs at that, muttering something to himself to the effect of “you’re just as mouthy as the real Kazutoshi.” Kamimura can’t say he shares the same humor. If his psyche is teasing him by conjuring up a fake Hasegawa to haunt him, then he really must be in hell. It’s unfair. He misses him so much. It’s so fucking unfair to play games with his mind like this, even if he is dead.

“F–fine,” Hasegawa says. He scrunches up his face for a moment, a telltale habit the taller boy always shows whenever he’s thinking hard, before his face lights up. “How about this then? You slept with a nightlight in your room until you were sixteen.”

“What kind of nightlight?”

“It had stars on it. Your, um…your aunt thought you might’ve liked astrology, since your mom was a big fan of it,” Hasegawa explains. “You didn’t like astrology– still don’t, I suppose…but it reminded you of home. That’s why you liked it.”

Kamimura’s blood runs cold. That’s a fact he only ever divulged to Hasegawa. It was the same night they shared a bed together, huddled for warmth and clinging onto each other for dear life.

In other words, the night before Okazaki murdered him in cold blood.

“...oh my god.”

“If that’s good enough…then I need you to do the same for me,” Hasegawa says. The other boy looks just as scared as Kamimura feels, as if piecing together something in his mind as they talk. “If– if you’re really Kazutoshi, then prove it to me. Prove to me that I’m not in hell for being a piece of shit.”

“Woah. Coming out a bit strong there,” Kamimura chuckles, despite himself. He doesn’t have to think long and hard about his Hasegawa fact. The Quiz Show Contestant takes up the majority of his mind nowadays, and he’s had a lot of time to think about their shared time together. “Whatever. Your Confession Game fact…your little sister was the one that you saw die. Her name was Reina, right?”

“...right.”

“You told me she’d probably like me, since I had cool hair and shit. That she’d compare me to a Blue Morpho butterfly, if she’d lived long enough to become a Lepidopterist.” It’s a conversation Kamimura could never forget, shared in the quiet confines of the cordoned off pool. “But you didn’t agree. You said I remind you of–”

“A moon jellyfish.”

They both speak at the same time, crossing wires and getting entangled with one another.

It’s then that it finally clicks in Kamimura’s mind: this is real. Hasegawa Ken is really here – his Ken is here, standing right before him. The breeze washes over Hasegawa, the gentle glow of the sun above beating down on his skin. He looks warm. As warm as he was when they’d shared a bed together. As warm as he was when he’d taken Kamimura’s punishments. As warm as he was when they’d first met, and he smiled so kindly at Kamimura.

It had been the first time in years anyone had smiled at him like that. 

The realization hits Hasegawa at the same time too. Before Kamimura can process it, the other boy is crossing the gap, closing the space that separates them.

Hasegawa falls to the floor, wrapping his arms around Kamimura.

“I– hey!” Kamimura gasps, taken aback. He can’t even complain. Why would he? For the first time in what feels like forever, he can feel Hasegawa again, his frame practically boxing Kamimura in. “Ken–”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s envisioned this time and time again, entertaining the fantasy of what he’d do if he were to actually see Hasegawa again. They were never serious fantasies, of course. He’s dead, and Hasegawa was still very much alive. 

So, if he’s here now, that can only mean–

Hasegawa sniffles. Kamimura immediately stiffens up, alarm bells going off in his mind. Instinctively, he brings his own arms up, wrapping them around Hasegawa’s waist.

“It’s really you. It’s– fuck, it’s really you.” 

“Ken,” he murmurs. His own eyes feel wet, as Hasegawa holds onto him even tighter, terrified that he might lose sight of him again. 

“Kazutoshi, I’m…I’m so fucking sorry,” Hasegawa whispers. He hates how Hasegawa’s voice trembles as he speaks, as if he’s on the verge of breaking. It doesn’t suit him, not one bit. “I thought I’d never see you again. I…I lost you, and I– I couldn’t take it anymore–”

Kamimura should be saying that to him. He thought he’d never see Hasegawa again after arriving here. He flips back and forth between yearning for the closest friend he’s ever had to come and make him laugh again, and praying Hasegawa made it out of that shithole alive and well. 

“Why’re you sorry? It’s not like you killed me,” Kamimura reminds him. He imagines that, if anyone were to get justice for him, it would’ve been Hasegawa. God knows he would’ve done the same for him.

“I might as well have.” There’s palpable weight in Hasegawa’s words, tinged with guilt and anguish that Kamimura can’t even bring himself to pick apart right now. “I should’ve known Okazaki would…I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Of course, Kamimura doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t think he could, even if he tried. 

He holds Hasegawa closer to him, burying his face in the taller boy’s dress shirt.

“Did you guys find her guilty, at least?” 

“Of course. She killed Tsuno too during the investigation, for what it’s worth. You were– Tsuno was her ultimate goal, not you.”

“...huh. So I just was her stepping stone, then.” Kamimura can’t help but feel bitter about that. He supposes he can see the humor in it too, though there’s something rather ironic to him about being singled out unfairly even in his final moments.

The man that killed his parents escaped before Kamimura could return home, and before he could take his life too. He’d singled Kamimura out and left him to pick up the pieces of a home his small hands couldn’t even think to hold at nine years old.

Isao had taken his heart and stomped on it back then too. They were close once upon a time, and Kamimura knows the other boy is far from an evil genius…but he’d fucked Kamimura’s life up irreparably by outing him. He’d singled Kamimura out and thrown him to the wolves, all whilst he was already struggling to come to terms with his own identity, and the prospect of going to hell for who he loved.

He’s had a lot of time to think about both events. He wishes he could say he was numb over it all, but he’s not. Even though his physical pain is gone, the emotional hurt he’d been dealt throughout his life still runs deep within him. 

That, too, is really unfair, he thinks. 

Hasegawa lets out another sniffle. “I missed you so much. I missed you so, so much, and I’m so sorry. I don’t care about the others. It was your forgiveness I needed– no one else’s.”

“Wait, hold on.” Kamimura takes the opportunity to break away from Hasegawa’s embrace, despite his desperate need for the other boy’s warmth. Still, he feels like he’s missing something here. He has to be if Hasegawa is even here in the first place. “I need you to slow down, just for a sec. Ken. Look at me, c’mon.”

“I– right. Sorry.”

It’s impossible to miss the tear tracks on Hasegawa’s face, painting his pretty features with misery and guilt. Kamimura has to stop himself from reaching upwards, wiping the tears still spilling over from his teary eye–

Wait. 

Eye?

“What the fuck happened to your eye?!” 

“H–huh?”

“Ken. You only have one eye,” Kamimura points out. He brings his hand up to Hasegawa’s cheek, his bandages crinkling underneath Kamimura’s fingertips. “What the fuck. Who– who did this to you?”

“...it’s a long story.”

“Tell me. I’ll kill whoever hurt you myself.”

“We’re dead, Kazutoshi. We can’t kill anyone here.”

“I can envision it. I’ve been blowing up Okazaki with my mind in here for ages now,” Kamimura huffs. “You should try it sometime, actually. It’s therapeutic as fuck.”

Hasegawa laughs. The sound alone is therapeutic to him, like wind chimes caught in the spring breeze, soft and carefree. It reminds Kamimura of walking through the park on his good days back from work, knowing home was only a few minutes away. 

God– he missed this. He missed Hasegawa. As nice as the flower field is, the sun hasn’t felt nearly as nice without Hasegawa here. 

When the other boy’s laughter dies down, the expression on his face is replaced with something far more bittersweet. He can’t meet Kamimura gaze, staring down at the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole all of a sudden.

“Ken. Talk to me,” he says. “Why are you here?” 

“...I killed Mai.” 

Kamimura’s blood runs cold. He stares at Hasegawa, mouth agape and eyes wide. He waits for the boy to continue, to speak again and let Kamimura know he’d misheard. There’s just no way. 

“Why?” Kamimura asks.

“Because I couldn’t do it anymore,” Hasegawa mutters. He brings his hands up to his knees, squeezing them hard as he speaks. “I couldn’t take another day of being in there with those selfish assholes. I couldn’t– I couldn’t do it without you. I didn’t know how I was supposed to go on.”

“And they found you out?” 

“...they were going to vote for Tamba, originally.” Despite considering himself a fervent Tamba hater, that doesn’t make him feel any better at all. A part of him will always miss her too. Still, Hasegawa persists. “But then the rabbit essentially told them they’d gotten it wrong…and that’s how they found me out.”

“The rabbit threw you under the bus?!” 

“Y–yeah.”

Kamimura pulls a face. He considers cracking a joke, but Hasegawa looks so tiny sitting in front of him right now. The Quiz Show Champion is on the verge of tears again, and Kamimura doesn’t know how to help him. 

Instead, Kamimura stares at him, mouth parted in shock. “It wasn’t the final trial, was it?” When Hasegawa nods, Kamimura can’t do anything but frown. “Ken! You– you were almost out of there.”

“I know! I know I was,” Hasegawa splutters out. “But escaping, it– it didn’t mean anything to me. I just didn’t care anymore. It didn’t mean anything to me if you weren’t there with me.”

It means a lot to be needed.

His parents needed him– they wanted the best for him, and raised Kamimura like he was their most precious treasure. 

His aunt didn’t need him. She loved him dearly, and Kamimura loves her more than he thinks he ever let her know, but they both know she didn’t want him as a child. He was a constant reminder of the sister she’d lost. He felt the same every time he looked in the mirror and saw his mom and dad’s love marked out on his rough, jaded features.

Hasegawa is sitting in front of him, breaking down because he needed him. Hasegawa needed him. He cared– he still does, even now.

Kamimura brings his hand up to Hasegawa’s head. He’s a lot taller than him, but the Crime Scene Cleaner can just about reach the top of his hair. 

As carefully as he can, Kamimura runs his fingers through Hasegawa’s hair, petting the broken boy in front of him. He hopes it’s enough of an apology for not being there. Even if he couldn’t help it, he’s still sorry all the same. 

“Killing Mai was stupid,” Kamimura says. “I don’t know what you were thinking. I doubt you were fucking thinking at all.” 

“I…I know. I’m sorry.”

“I mean– why?! You were so close to making it out! I can’t believe you would do something so stupid. That you would throw your life away just like that!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You should’ve made it out of that shithole alive. I wanted you to make it out alive. You deserved to live more than anyone else in there.”

“...that’s not true, Kazutoshi.”

“It is. It’s true to me.”

He continues to stroke the top of Hasegawa’s head. The taller boy is polite enough to duck down slightly, giving Kamimura more leeway to pet him. Even without words and in death, they remain on the same wavelength. 

“Do you regret it?” Kamimura asks. 

“No.” Hasegawa’s response is instant. He finally meets Kamimura’s gaze, his expression steadfast despite the tears tracking endlessly down his cheeks. “I would’ve done it again if I could.”

“Huh.”

He doesn’t know what he would’ve done in Hasegawa’s situation, truth be told. The time he’s had here without Hasegawa’s side hasn’t felt right. He’s been able to lie back and relax, but something has always innately felt missing. 

He can’t imagine how that must’ve felt in the middle of the killing game, stuck with a bunch of people that Hasegawa clearly feels resentment towards. There must be more Kamimura’s missing here– more that Hasegawa isn’t telling him about the survivors he was willing to kill, or his knowledge of the killing game at large.

“If–” Hasegawa starts, his voice quiet. “If you hate me, I would understand. To be honest, I…I hate myself too. I can’t even say I hate what I’ve become. I’ve always been like this.”

“Don’t say that. You weren’t a fucking killer when I first met you.”

“But I was worthless. I’ve always been worthless– you were just too good to tell me as such.” There’s a pause as Hasegawa glances away again. His hands are shaking, tremors wracking his fingers. “I couldn’t keep Isono alive…and, more importantly, I couldn’t keep you alive. I’m the lowest of the low.”

“Ken–”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” Ken whispers. His voice wavers, as if he’s trying to desperately not to break down again. “You have every right to. You should hate me, but– but I’m just as selfish as everyone else, aren’t I? I killed Mai. I knew you’d never forgive me for letting you die, but killing Mai– you wouldn’t have forgiven me for that. You’d despise me for throwing my life away.”

“...dude. Look at me, c’mon.” 

“I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t. It’s pathetic, I know, but I don’t want to see how much you hate me.”

“Ken. Look at me.”

Hasegawa looks miserable.

The more Kamimura stares at him, the more noticeable his change in demeanor is. He remembers the fresh-faced, awkward Quiz Show Contestant he’d grown close to in the span of three weeks, confiding in him in ways he’d never have considered telling anyone else. He’d grown smitten with him. He truly believed they could’ve been something if they’d both survived.

The Hasegawa Ken he’s seeing now in the afterlife looks like a shell of his former self. He’s missing an eye, and his boyish features have sunken in. The killing game had chewed up the Hasegawa Ken he knew and loved, and spat this back out.

Kamimura is pissed off for a myriad of reasons.

Hasegawa is a killer. He’d done the one thing they’d both sworn to each other that they’d never do: he’d fallen victim to the killing game, and gotten his hands bloodied. He’d taken another life…not for self-defense, but because he wanted everyone – including himself, by the sounds of it – dead.

Hayashi Mai is someone he genuinely considered a friend. She was one of the few tolerable people in the killing game, and someone he thinks he could’ve really gotten close with in another life. Having someone else in the killing game to discuss dead bodies with who didn’t immediately freak out is something he’d never take for granted. She made him feel normal, and he likes to think he might’ve had the same impact on her.

The survivors, from what he can gather, are also people he can’t say he wanted dead either. His feelings on all five of them are complicated and messy, but he can’t understand why Hasegawa would’ve wanted them dead.

God. He’s so stupid. He’s so unbelievably stupid. He was almost free. He was missing his family dreadfully, wasn’t he? Kamimura doesn’t get why he would just throw that all away.

He’s angry that Hasegawa is here, but he’s /beyond/ relieved too. The conflicting feelings swell up in his chest. He wants to scream at Hasegawa, and he also wants to cry. He wants nothing more than to take the other boy in his arms and beg for answers – “what did they do to you in there? What happened to you?”

He runs his hand through Hasegawa’s hair, his touch gentle and his words harsh. “You’re an idiot, Ken. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I…I’m sorry.”

“I can’t forgive you– not yet. I…I could never hate you, but I can’t forgive you. You know that already, right?”

Hasegawa nods. Quietly, he mumbles, “I know it’s not what you would’ve wanted me to do. I don’t know why that wasn’t enough to stop me. I had an entire week to stop myself– two, since I’d been thinking about it before Watari…you know.”

“You weren’t thinking straight. Nobody would be in a shithole like that,” Kamimura sighs. “I don’t forgive you, but I can’t blame you either. You fucked up, and you know you fucked up. You fucked up real bad, Ken.”

“I–I did, yeah. God…what’s wrong with me, Kazutoshi?”

Kamimura can’t answer that. There’s something wrong with both of them, surely. There was something wrong with every single teenager trapped in that killing game. That’s probably why they were chosen to begin with: a bunch of fucked up seventeen year olds with even more fucked up lives.

Instead, he moves his hand back onto Hasegawa’s cheek– the one without the bandage on it this time. Carefully, he swipes his thumb across the tears tracking down his face. 

“It’s over now, Ken. It’s done,” he says. “You’re okay now, yeah? It’s over now.”

“...it doesn’t feel like it is.” 

“Yeah, well, it is. You’re here now, and it’s over.” He finds himself tearing up a little, as Hasegawa’s face crumples. “C’mere. I have all the time in the world to dunk on you for being a killer. I…I just don’t want you to cry anymore.”

Hasegawa nods, lowering his head. Through tears, he asks, “is it all really over? I don’t– I don’t need to hold it in anymore?”

“You’re doing a pretty bad job of that anyway, dude.” Though, as he jokes, Kamimura shifts in closer. “Yeah. Don’t hold back on me anymore. You did that a lot when we were both still alive, right? Like, you were real scared of pissing me off.”

“I…I didn’t want to upset you. I never wanted to upset you, because I care so much about you, Kazutoshi.”

“Y–yeah, I get that. I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re both here now, and it’s all over. We aren’t in that hellhole anymore.” The words I care about you too go unspoken, but he hopes Hasegawa understands them all the same.

The next few moments happen in slow motion for Kamimura. He watches as Hasegawa’s face falls, his eyes closing briefly, only for him to let out a loud sob. Before he can reach back out to him, the taller boy is on him in mere seconds, pushing Kamimura down to the floor.

“I– Ken, what–”

“I missed you so much,” Hasegawa cries. He buries his face in Kamimura’s neck, his body wracked with sobs as he holds onto the Crime Scene Cleaner for dear life. “I– fuck, Kazutoshi– I had so many things I wanted to tell you. There were so many things you never got to tell me, and I– fuck, I missed you!”

It’s stupid. He’s stupid for missing Kamimura as badly as he did. Hasegawa had everything outside of the game. Kamimura had nothing…or, at least, he thought he had nothing, right up until he was murdered.

And yet, Kamimura can feel his own eyes growing wet. He brings his arms up to wrap around Hasegawa’s back, pretending as if the other boy doesn’t still wear a rabbit-shaped brand on his back– as if that isn’t Kamimura’s own fault.

“I missed you too,” he says, his own voice wavering as he speaks. “I missed you too, Ken.”

“I never got to tell you how much I love you. I never got to tell you about the life we could’ve had outside of the game together,” Hasegawa sniffles. “Even– even if you didn’t feel the same, I just thought…I thought we still could’ve been friends. I wanted you to meet Mao, I– I wanted us to go to university together!”

Kamimura’s blood runs cold again at the confession. It’s exactly what he always wanted to hear. It’s exactly what he’s been fantasizing about whilst lying in the flower fields by himself, dreaming of a life where he could shout “I’m home”, only to hear “welcome home” from Hasegawa Ken himself.

In an ideal world, they’d have both escaped the killing game together. Nobody would’ve had to die.

Or, rather, in an ideal world, they wouldn’t have been in a killing game at all. Kamimura would’ve gone to university and somehow stumbled across Hasegawa there. They’d end up bonding over something inane – chemistry, or a shared hatred of their classmates' antics – and they’d grow close all over again. They would meet again, and come to love each other again, and again.

Kamimura presses his lips to the top of Hasegawa’s head. “I wanted that for us too, y’know. I wanted to go watch you live in action at those quiz shows. I’d be, like, the world’s most annoying friend.”

Hasegawa chuckles wetly at the thought. “I wanted you there too. I– I always wanted you there. Oh, Kazutoshi, I– I wanted you to live so badly, it hurt.”

“I know. I…I wanted to live too.” How ironic that Okazaki chose to end his life the very day he’d started to try living rather than just surviving. He supposes this realization hasn’t been lost on Hasegawa either. 

“When…when you died, it felt like a part of me died too. God– we didn’t even know each other for that long, but the longer you were gone for, the more it dawned on me,” Hasegawa cries. “I could’ve loved you. I did love you, and Okazaki took you away from me. All of them took you away from me. I– I’m sorry I didn’t protect you like I promised. I’ll never stop being sorry.”

As he holds Hasegawa, he finds his eyes shifting down to the other boy’s neck. He can just about see it underneath the collar of his dress shirt, but there’s a raised scar there that definitely wasn’t there when they were still alive.

“...what the fuck did they do to you, Ken?” He whispers, running a finger against the rigid edges of the wound.

“I got what I deserved,” Hasegawa laughs, bitterly. “To be honest…I think they beheaded me mid-execution because they saw what your death did to me. They did the same thing for Chiba and Harada…and Watari and Hama. I don’t know why I thought I’d be exempt.”

“That’s fucked up. I…fuck the rabbit, dude. Seriously.”

“Mhm. I don’t even know what I would’ve done if I’d lived,” Hasegawa admits. In a quiet voice, he says, “honestly, I– I think I would’ve ended it all. If the rabbit hadn’t sentenced me to death, I’d have just done it myself.”

“D–don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Sorry. I’m– I’m sorry, Kazutoshi–”

He lets Hasegawa cry into his shoulder. Kamimura doesn’t know how long he sobs for, or just how many times he apologizes for various things throughout the game. He holds Hasegawa close to him, letting his own tears roll down his cheek and onto the other boy’s suit.

When Hasegawa finally rears his head, he looks like a mess. Kamimura can’t help but smile weakly, bringing his hands up to cradle the boy’s wet cheeks. 

“Hey,” he starts, smiling through his own set of tears and unspoken apologies. “If– if we were to do it all again, would you do it all any differently?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“The killing game. Like, would you have done anything differently?”

“I would’ve murdered Okazaki myself,” Hasegawa says, his response instant. “So she couldn’t hurt you. So she couldn’t hurt anyone else…and then maybe Isono and the others would’ve lived too.”

“I was thinking the same, but c’mon. Assume I’m already fucked and dead, yeah? Would you have done anything differently?”

“God no,” Hasegawa’s response is even quicker this time. The smile on his face drops, the glint in his singular visible eye dark and serious. “If you were already dead, then there would be no point. I…I would’ve spent everyday being alive missing you even more, and wishing I’d loved you better.”

“...don’t say that.”

“But I mean it. I could’ve loved you better, Kazutoshi. I really could’ve,” Hasegawa says. “But I couldn’t have loved you more. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone else as much as you, and I won’t ever again.” 

Because they’re both dead, he thinks. Hasegawa’s gaze, tear-filled and genuine, is intense enough to let him know that this is far from the actual reason. 

It’s Kamimura’s turn to cry at that, staring wide-eyed and terrified at Hasegawa. He’s never been loved like this before. He never thought himself as capable of being loved like that, and yet Hasegawa is offering his eternal love to him just like that. 

“You’re– you’re the worst,” Kamimura murmurs. “I hate you so much, Ken.”

“I know you do,” Hasegawa chuckles. He leans down, kissing Kamimura’s forehead. “I love you too, Kazutoshi.” 

It’s just the two of them in the vast field of red spider lilies. There’s no one here to bother them, or to scrutinize the intimate moment they’re sharing. They break down in front of each other, holding each other together like their lives depend on it– it’s all they can do, in the fleeting abyss of the afterlife. It’s just the two of them now.

Hasegawa is on top of him, their bodies pressing snugly against each other. He can feel the other boy’s body weight on top of his – it’s a reminder Hasegawa is here. He isn’t alone anymore. Hasegawa is here, and he is loved. He can love Hasegawa in return.

Kamimura is reminded of his final night alive in the killing game. Hasegawa’s body had been pressed firmly against his back then as well, huddling for warmth and survival. It had felt like the world was just the two of them back then too, he thinks. 

When Hasegawa’s mouth brushes against his, Kamimura is quick to reciprocate. It’s slow, and full of tender restraint, unspoken apologies and the love they weren’t able to express whilst they were still alive. Hasegawa’s lips are salty with tears. He can’t imagine he tastes any better, given the circumstances.

There’s no need for them to worry anymore. There’s no more killing game looming over the two of them, or the constant fear of motives fucking them over in unspeakable ways. They have all the time in the world here. He’s safe. They’re safe.

When Hasegawa rests his forehead against Kamimura’s, the two of them out of breath, the world truly does feel like it exists solely for the two of them to inhabit. 

“I love you, Kazutoshi,” Hasegawa whispers. “And I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Ken.”

“I’ll never let you go– never again.”

He chuckles, despite himself. Cradling Hasegawa’s cheeks in his hands, he says, “you better not. I’ll hold you to that forever now.” Hasegawa laughs too, bright and all his to monopolize again. He doesn’t want to let go of him either.