He awakes to the golden morning light, gleaming through the pale, translucent curtains. He can feel the warmth of the sun, waking up every bit of his body, as though he was growing into his body from a long journey of a dream. He is aware of his surroundings, getting up and looking around at his large bedroom, the door to the bathroom, and the messy bedsheets that sprawl around him. Shades that dawn over the wall and the door are breaking away from him; the night exits. Below his floor and beyond that pale wooden door, he can hear people laughing and chattering away — distant but he can feel the sweetness of the people's tones, heartily and genuine, as though nothing was bothering them at all. There was only joy for those people below, and he couldn't wait to feel that joy, too.
He gets up and he gets ready for the day, making his routines in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, dealing with his hair (struggling to keep down his cowlick), and getting dressed. He feels like a stranger walking around the room, but somehow he manages through. At the closet, he struggles to find a good set of clothes for his job, one that seemed professional enough but still comfortable. His bleary hazel eyes lay upon sets of clothes that he could not help but wonder about. Clothes that he certainly would not wear but have seen before. Something about those clothes that made him feel caring, as he smiles subconsciously at them.
When he is all ready for the day, he stumbles out of the room. He walks through the beige halls — walls looking freshly colored — towards the staircases. Cautiously he goes down the stairs, worried that his mind is still asleep to focus on ensuring that he would not slip and fall. As he descends, the voices he heard before — the sweet tones of laughing and chattering — grow louder and clearer. Suddenly, he feels himself more awake than before; the effects almost like caffeine to him.
Somehow he finds himself at a dining table in that house: a round wooden table with seats all around. Two familiar, yet unfamiliar faces sit past the table, playing together and teasing. Immediately, he smiles and calls out to them, wishing them a good morning. Their heads turn to him with large smiles, as both of them get out of their chairs.
"Daddy!" The two small children cheer as they give him a hug and kiss.
He returns the embrace, "And how did both of you sleep, hm?"
"I slept well!" The girl smiles, her light purple eyes twinkle, "I had a very good dream last night!"
"Yeah, but you made our room stinky," The boy taunts back, his light pink lips pout. "She farted all night and I couldn't handle it." The boy pinches his nose, closing one of his light green eyes (that seemed too similar to the man's own pair), as he waved the other hand before him.
"Hey!" The girl clenches one fist, "I did not! You're just trying to cover up for the fact that you were the one that farted."
"Did not!" The boy brushes his dark purple hair from his face.
"Did too!" The girl puts her hands on her hips and leans in. Eventually, she stands up straight and shakes the man's arm. "How did you sleep, Dad?"
He chuckles, "I slept… pretty alright, I think."
The boy looks carefully at the man, "Really? Because you seem like you're not even awake yet."
"O-Oh, no, I'm pretty awake!" The man waves his hands. "Just seeing my kids' faces, I feel awake."
"That's because he's pretty ugly, right?" The girl points to the boy. "It just wakes you up."
The boy clicks his tongue, "Or is it because of your smell?"
"W-Would you stop that?!" The girl cries. "Ugh, Dad, don't listen to him!"
"G-Guys, that isn't it." The man says sheepishly, "It's just seeing and hearing you both talking away so happily. It wakes me up with a big smile on my face, too."
"Aw!" The two kids smile toothily before giving the man a large hug once again.
"Hey, what happened to eating your breakfast? You both haven't even touched it." A sharp tone gives way into the environment. Sharp but surprisingly calming to the man. He felt himself feeling evermore pleasant at the sound. The children let go of the man, pouting as they return to their seats across the table. The man takes a seat, looking down at the meal set before him (was that there before?) then turning behind him to the source of the voice.
"And you three better hurry off, too, don't you think?" A woman that radiants familiarity to him sits down next to him, with a small smile on her pink lips. Her sharp, light purple eyes stare at the two children, arms crossed as though expecting an answer.
"Yeah," the boy replies, "But someone was distracting me."
"Hey! It wasn't me," the girl whines, shaking her hands up and down. "I-It was Dad! He came down and he distracted us!"
"W-What? Me?" The man panickedly questions, waving his hands in the same fashion as the girl. "I just wanted to greet my kids!"
He feels a hand upon his shoulder. Turning towards it, he sees that the pale hand belongs to the woman. Her stare peaks through her pastel purple bangs toward the children. He glances at the woman's stern look — a hidden compassion beyond those cold eyes (that he somehow knew of). He could not help but smile at her gaze before turning toward the children. The kids' looks toward the woman, on the other hand, were the contrast.
"You both know that I can see through your lies easily, right? It's a power I have," The woman states coldly, never batting her eyes at the two.
"S-Sorry, Mom!" The girl cries, clapping her hands together.
"But it really was Dad," The boy huffs.
Suddenly, the grip tightens upon the man's shoulders, pain shooting down his nerves. He jolts, wenching at the strength of the woman's grip, before turning to look at the woman's face. Cold again. But that couldn't fool the man (he thinks).
He pulls an awkward smile upon his face, cocking his eyebrow at the woman, trying to fake his fears toward the lady. Yet he knows somehow of this reaction.
"Then I… have to give him punishment," The woman coos, her pale face gives way to red as she inches closer to the man. The man unknowingly grins at the woman, who, in turn, smiles a small smile. The children before them groans and roll their eyes, as though they knew what the woman had meant by punishment. And the man knew as well of what was coming for him.
The woman's face is right by his, she whispers softly to him, "Wouldn't this be nice?"
He chuckles, awaiting for the soft touch of the woman's lips — the routine of their family mornings.
But that never came. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, and he finds his body sore as he sits up in a chair. His hazel eyes take in the area: a gray table before him with blueprints of some sort for reconstruction scattered across it and a mug of unfinished coffee that sits by his right elbow. He looks down at himself and finds himself under a sheet of blanket. He must have fallen asleep… again.
"Naegi, get up," A sharp, low voice interrupts the man's thoughts, but the man was far too dazed to focus. "You need to stop falling asleep at work."
"S-Sorry, Togami," The man stumbles out an apology. "I swear, I tried really hard this time to not fall asleep."
"Really? Because you seemed like you easily gave into sleep." The blonde man remarks.
"Oh, uh," Naegi sits up straight before rubbing his head, "Whoops…?"
Togami adjusts his glasses before sighing frustratingly, "Look, if you are not going to sleep well at home, I suggest you sleep elsewhere — not here, where we have much work to do. If all else, just stay home and rest, if need be."
"I-I know," Naegi looks down at the blueprints, "I-It's just that I really wanted to get stuff done here, too."
Togami walks towards Naegi and places a hand on the brunette's shoulder. Almost like the dream.
"Naegi, you realize it's been a year since that... final game, yes?"
Has it really been that long? Naegi chuckles weakly at himself before running his hand through his hair.
And yet, he had that dream yet again. The same one that he had imagined a long while ago, but had suddenly turned up more and more since that game. Out of everyone else, he should know the most that it was impossible — that his dream would never come true. And that was final.
"Y-Yeah. I… muttered in my sleep again, didn't I?" The sitting figure scratches his cheek sheepishly.
"Yes, but," Togami crosses his arms and looks away from Naegi, "While you may think of me as cold from time to time, I understand that situations as those… Where you lose someone that you deemed as a trusted person, are situations that are difficult to recuperate from."
Naegi sighs, laying his head back down on his arms and thinking more about the dream.
"I miss her. I miss Kirigiri…" Naegi mutters into his arm, but Togami hears him well.
The sitting man keeps to himself, thinking back on those events, how he has tried, with all his might, to move on from that for the sake of the world. He thinks of his dream once more that shatters back into reality — the blushing face of the woman inching close to him being abruptly replaced by the bloodstreaming face of the woman as she lied dead before him. All for him. The thoughts of the possibilities that he could have prevented this future stain his mind.
But it could not be helped. He did not know. He wished to cope with that thought, but the anguish and regret he felt from that day on was more than that.
"Naegi," Togami abrupts the brunette's thoughts, "I'm sending you home early today. You have not made much progress, and you would only get in the way of work. That and…" The blonde closes his eyes, "It would do you good to take some time alone."
Naegi pouts, looking down at the gray table. He looks back at the blonde, "I-I'm really sorry, Togami. I'll try to get something—"
Togami's hand goes up, ceasing Naegi's talk, "Nonsense. You'll only get in the way. Now leave."
Naegi gives into his superior's request, slowly rising from his seat before heading toward the exit of the offices.
But the man stops at the doorway, heading turning to the side, "Thanks… Togami."
Naegi could not see the other's reaction to his response, but he was sure that Togami would have been pleased with the appraisal he was given. Such a rare action from the taller individual made him feel as though he were in debt, but he was simply glad to be taking some time away from work to recuperate.
Why was it that this dream was becoming a constant for him? He had wondered constantly. It was harder for him before, when every day after that dream, he would have to wake up to the raw sense of reality — he was to blame for her death. The days where he would arise from his slumber only to realize that that dream would have been impossible to achieve.
And those final words that the woman had left him in that dream. "Wouldn't this be nice?" Those words haunted him the most. He had constantly thought perhaps both of them could live that life when they fix the world together — when things have began to settle down and they did not have to worry any longer. And even if their future may have not been carried out the same way that it was in his dream, Naegi would have just been glad to be with her. Together.
On that day, Naegi had gone home and began to weep horrendously for the long lost of his friend — of what was his dream with her and of what she meant to him. That loss — that will never be replaced for him. Gone, but for him, she will always be on his mind. She will always be the closest friend he has had for so long. And, she will always be his false hope.