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Akane knew he shouldn’t have messed with time in the first place.
But he was a clock keeper.
Choice wasn’t something Mirai and Kako gave him, not with their obsession with keeping time steady.
Still… he was grateful.
Grateful that they had finally managed to drag the old world back after defeating that cursed entity.
His superiors hadn’t been thrilled—Tsukasa still walking around was proof of that—but Mirai, after all his sobbing pleas, had convinced Kako that another reset would snap reality apart for good.
So here they were.
Ao-chan was alive. Everyone was safe—or as safe as anyone ever was, considering half their friends were corpses.
At least Mitsuba was a stable school mystery now. Minamoto kouhai accepted that with only a small pout.
Yashiro-san would keep living, which was good for everyone’s sanity. Mostly Honorable Number 7's.
Tsukasa was still odd as ever, but he and Hanako had made up.
Akane refused to think about the other members of the broadcasting club. Not unless forced.
Lemon, of course, was unbothered by it all. What luxury it must be to stay outside their mess.
Prez…
Prez did not look happy.
Akane didn’t move when the punch landed. He just let it snap his head to the side, sharp and deserved.
Prez had given up his mother’s life to make this world possible—all so Kou could still exist.
The punch was only fair.
After all, it had been Akane who made the reset necessary. Who had dragged them all through deaths upon deaths.
It was a wonder no one else had hit him.
So Akane closed his eyes, bracing himself for another blow. Maybe a stabbing. Maybe electrocution.
He wouldn’t stop it.
Instead—
Arms closed around him. Tight. Crushing, so fierce he could hardly breathe.
“Thank you,” Prez whispered, voice cracking apart.
Akane’s eyes flew open.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. I didn’t—if you or Kou hadn’t—” His words tangled, strangled, like they had when he’d found Kou’s body in the well.
His shoulders shook. “I was so scared—”
Akane froze. Completely blank.
Prez never cried. Prez never hugged him. For a second, Akane thought it had to be a mistake—that Teru meant Kou, not him.
But then the words sank in, and the tears started.
Because Akane had been scared too.
Terrified that he couldn’t save everyone. That Ao-chan, Yashiro-san—his friends—prez—would be lost forever.
Terrified that Prez would never forgive him.
His throat tore open on a sob. He couldn’t even lift his arms to hug back, too drained, too stunned, but the apologies tumbled out anyway.
A million “sorry”s, a thousand broken “thank you”s.
And through the blur of it all, he realized he was glad too. Glad he’d fixed this ugly mess.
Glad to be here, in this world, alive enough to feel the weight of Teru Minamoto’s arms crushing the air from his lungs.
From the side, Ao-chan smiled through her own tears, clinging to Yashiro-san.
For now, that was enough.