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He had already lost track of how long he had been locked inside that dark, damp, and lonely room. Time had blurred into something meaningless, stretching endlessly. All Teruya could feel was his body growing weaker and weaker; ever since he had tried to log out, all he could experience was pain. Torture.
Logging out. After receiving his memories back from Sora, that was all he needed to do. Just one thing. Warn his colleagues at the Foundation. Warn Tsurugi. Warn Rei. That was it. Yet, the very moment he processed what felt like a chance at salvation, a fleeting glimpse of hope, cruel hands wrapped tightly around his neck.
Mikado had tricked him. Had altered him. Had ruined him.
The wizard had changed Otori, whose only objective had ever been to save his underclassmen, his friends. Into an obstacle. His mere existence had become a threat to their survival. Just by breathing, he was endangering them. Because he was alive, their rescue was delayed. Every breath he took was another barrier between those who needed saving and the co-workers attempting to do exactly that.
And now, alone, tied up, and completely bruised, all the man who had once been so determined to escape wished for was death.
All he needed to do was stop breathing. To become another cold, empty shell and rot away so others could live. Every second he remained alive, he felt himself turning into more of a burden.
He knew he wasn’t useful. He had realized that a long time ago. Back in the trials, long ago, with people whose faces he could barely remember anymore. People he had spent an entire school year with. People who once made him feel at home.
Back then, all he had done was make their lives harder.
He wasn’t the brightest. He couldn’t reason like Mekaru did. He couldn’t be strong, dependable, or useful the way Tsurugi was. He was nowhere near them.
All he ever did was create more problems. He asked stupid questions during trials, only for others to tear them apart. He wasted precious time with his stupid breakdowns. Deep down, he knew all he would ever do was hurt them more.
And yet, despite knowing all that, he had truly believed that this time would be different.
He had believed he could save someone. Anyone.
But he couldn’t even save a single person.
Because of him, Kokoro was dead. All he had needed to do was stay by her side, just that, and yet he failed at such a simple task.
That failure haunted him every day.
Being deceived by Nikei. Forcing these people to suffer through the same horrors he and his classmates had endured long ago, or maybe even worse..! Making them sleep on cold, filthy floors. Leaving them without proper food, water, or even a place to clean themselves.
He was disgusting. Filthy. Horrible.
His body grew weaker by the minute, and unlike all the times before, when he had committed cruel acts in the name of survival, now the only thing he truly wanted was to die.
That would probably be the first genuinely good thing he would ever do.
His eyes began to water, and soon he was crying. It was ugly, broken sobs escaping his throat. His neck, still bruised by the mastermind’s hands, burned with pain every time he made a sound. Each breath felt like fire beneath his skin.
And he knew he deserved it.
This was his punishment. One he would accept again and again. Someone like him didn’t deserve pity. Didn’t deserve help.
Someone like him was only deserving of death.
He had hurt so many people for the sake of his own survival. He had hurt his father. His friends. These innocent people he had been sent to save.
And he had hurt his best friend.
He had killed Haruhiko.
He knew it was his fault. He had no right to cry. No right to feel pain over a brutal, cruel death that had been caused by his own hands.
And yet-
His heart ached as his body slowly slid down the wall. He couldn’t reach out. Couldn’t move his hands. Couldn’t grab the most precious item he had left, the one lying broken right in front of him.
He had sworn to protect it. To honor his friend’s.
No- Haruhiko’s legacy.
And still, his foolishness had led to it being shattered, broken, and stained with his own blood. Just another thing he had ruined.
“...Ha… ru… hi… ko…”
A name he had no right to utter.
The name of someone who had once helped all their classmates. The name of someone who had sacrificed himself, alongside Satsuki, to save Teruya and the other survivors from starvation. The name of the man Teruya had killed.
It didn’t matter how many times he washed his hands. The blood he had spilled would never come off.
They had laughed together. Explored together. Spent an entire year as classmates.
And yet, once inside that killing game, those memories meant nothing.
All Teruya ever did was frustrate the pilot. Make him angry. Fight with him. Again and again. All because of his recklessness.
The last time they had spoken, the last time he had seen Haruhiko’s face, heard his voice, had been during a fight.
And even after that, he was still a horrible friend, having tried to kill him by tampering with a gun he orchestrated for Haruhiko to find.
And still, he dared to think of himself as Haruhiko’s friend.
A title he would never deserve. Not in a million years. No matter how many kind acts he could perform, it would never be enough.
Tears streamed endlessly down his face. It hurt. Everything hurt.
‘Why can’t I just die already? Please… I just need to die.’
He knew he was going to die, but the way it would happen would only cause more pain.
He had eaten that poisoned dish knowingly. After days of starvation, the world just wouldn't be so kind as to give him a meal like that. With that opportunity, he decided that poisoning himself was the best way out.
The moment Iroha walked in with that plate, he already knew.
He had hoped, desperately, that it was all a nightmare. That the painter he had tried so hard to protect wasn’t involved.
But he knew.
And he wished she had stabbed him instead. Or choked him like Mikado had. Anything but this.
Even in death, Teruya Otori was still a burden.
He had been born to annoy. To ruin. To destroy everyone he cared about.
The tears finally stopped. Not because he felt better, but because there were none left.
His eyes burned. Keeping them open felt like torture. His voice was ruined, every sound unrecognizable as the damage done by Sannoji caught up to him.
He stared at the broken goggles on the floor. Glass scattered everywhere. His body was too weak to fight the ropes, yet he still tried, trembling, desperate.. To reach for the last reminder of happiness he had.
It was useless.
His body no longer felt like his own. His limbs wouldn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed. He felt an unbearable cold seep into him.
And he hoped, maybe, that this cold was death finally claiming him.
But it felt endless.
He wouldn’t die.
And he hated it.
‘Mekaru must be really mad at me right now, haha…’
She was probably furious he hadn't yet contacted the Foundation, even after receiving her code.. And Tsurugi was likely plotting something reckless on his own again.
He hoped they were okay.
He hoped they’d never hear the news. The news of how the most useless of the three leaders of the Kisaragi Foundation had died without saving anyone.
And maybe, just maybe.. In death, he could finally succeed.
His body grew numb. Cold. Empty.
He had no strength left in his body anymore, all the starvation, injuries and exhaustion finally catching up to him. And as his eyes finally gave in and began to close, he gave the goggles one last glance.
“..I’m… s… so… sor… ry… Ha… ru…”
The room finally fell silent, no longer echoing with the ugly sobs from the merchant. Otori had finally stopped resisting. And he welcomed the darkness that wrapped around him.
[ - ]
His eyes shot open, only to be welcomed by a blinding light and a clear, light blue sky. The sudden brightness almost hurt after so long being surrounded by darkness. He found himself lying on soft grass, the warmth beneath him gentle and unfamiliar, and all around him stretched a vast sunflower field, golden petals swaying calmly as if the world itself was breathing.
It was beautiful. Too beautiful.
‘What is this…?’
Slowly, he pushed himself up, his movements cautious, almost fearful, as if everything would vanish the moment his presence became known.
He looked down at his own hands. They were still covered in bruises, marks of everything he had endured, yet the ropes that had once dug so painfully into his skin were gone, as if they had never existed at all.
His breath caught.
Then he saw it.
No- him.
An unreal sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. The sight in front of him belonged somewhere far beyond anything he deserved, somewhere reserved for things untouched by blood and regret.
Yet, despite the bruises, the pain, the weakness weighing down his body, Teruya forced himself up.
He ran.
He ran with everything he had left, his feet sinking into the grass as he pushed forward, chasing that familiar warmth. His chest burned, his vision blurred, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Even if it was fake, even if it vanished the moment he reached it, he needed to try.
It couldn’t be real, it just-
Tears began to fall again, hot and uncontrollable, as the figure slowly came into clearer view. His steps grew heavier, clumsier, his malnourished body unable to keep up with the rush of emotion surging through him. The adrenaline wasn’t enough. It never was.
His legs finally gave out, and he fell to his knees.
Before despair could swallow him whole, the figure began walking toward him instead.
He approached without hesitation, without fear, wearing a smile so warm and kind it felt like a knife twisting in Teruya’s chest.. A smile he didn’t deserve.
“Ruya, so here’s where you were!!”
That voice.
He would recognize it anywhere. No matter how many years passed, no matter how much blood stained his hands, he could never forget it. Those caramel-colored eyes still shone brightly beneath the sunlight, framed by tan skin and messy blonde hair, just as lively as he remembered.
Seeing him like this, standing, breathing, smiling. Broke Teruya in a way nothing else ever had. Not the killing game. Not Mikado’s torture. Not even facing his own death.
“Haruhiko…!”
He cried out, clinging desperately to the pilot’s waist, his arms trembling as his grip tightened. He was too weak to stand, too broken to hold himself together, and his sobs came out loud and uncontrollable.
“Eh?! Ruya, are you alright? Why are you crying?!”
Even from his knees, Teruya could see the clear height difference. Haruhiko was dead, he had been dead long ago, and with it somehow, Teruya had grown taller than the man who once felt so untouchably tall beside him.
Haruhiko didn’t seem to care.
He crouched down, gently cupping Teruya’s face in his hands, touching him with a care so delicate it hurt. Slowly, patiently, he wiped away the tears streaking down the merchant’s face.
“I…! I killed you, Haru…! Because of me…!! Because of me, you and Satsuki are dead…!!”
The words shattered as they left his mouth, buried under ugly, broken sobs.
“Hey, what are you talking about?” Haruhiko said softly. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”
This wasn’t real.
It had to be a hallucination. The poison. The starvation. His dying mind grasping at the last thing it wanted to see. That was the only explanation.
And yet,
Teruya couldn’t stop himself from believing.
With shaking hands, hands no longer bruised, no longer bound, he reached up, touching Haruhiko’s hair, his face, as if afraid he would disappear if he didn’t confirm it himself. Haruhiko looked confused, but he let him in, standing still as Teruya traced every familiar detail.
His hair felt exactly the same. His face was still soft beneath his fingertips. His nose still had that stupid bandage he always wore. The brown pilot’s hat sat snug on his head, and the goggles, his goggles, were there too, completely unharmed, not a single crack in the glass.
“See? I’m real!”
Haruhiko said with a bright smile.
“Now come on! Stop crying and come join me and the others!”
He helped Teruya stand, steadying him with ease. His body suddenly felt lighter. The pain that had consumed him for so long faded, almost miraculously, until it was nothing more than a distant memory.
Looking down at himself, Teruya noticed something else was wrong.
He was wearing his old uniform, the one he used to wear every day to Hope’s Peak. The one he wore to class, to laugh with his classmates. He was shorter again. His hands were clean, free of bruises, free of blood.
“…Yeah. Let’s go.”
He didn’t understand the feeling swelling in his chest, but he didn’t care. Not when Haruhiko took his hand and started leading him forward. He didn’t know where they were going, and it didn’t matter.
If it was Haru leading him, he would follow anywhere.
Haruhiko smiled at him, and Teruya smiled back. Everything felt warm. Bright. Gentle.
And strangely enough, he couldn’t remember what had been tormenting him before.
“Haru, slow down! I can’t keep up!”
He laughed.
For the first time in a long time, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
As they ran through the golden sunflower field that seemed to stretch on forever, hands tightly intertwined, their figures slowly disappeared into the light.
And as that warm dream embraced the failed leader of the Kisaragi Foundation, his breathing finally softened. His body stilled. His heart, worn down by guilt and suffering, finally gave out.
And with it, the obstacle, the burden, the mistake that had only ever caused pain, was finally gone.
Along with the man once known as Teruya Otori.
And maybe… maybe ending like this, was the closest thing to happiness he would ever allow himself to have.