Title: Fickle Future (Sorry for anyone who thought this was titled Tall Kingdoms. That was from the fanfic I copied and pasted this format from. LOL.)
Fandom: Mirai Nikki
Characters: Akise, Yukiteru
Rating: K
Word count: 441
Summary: It's over. Isn't it? Narrative/Somewhat of a character analysis on Akise. Spoilers for Episode 22.
Song Recommendation:
Future Diary Original Soundtrack Volume 2 Track 5
A little gift for you guys. And I've been meaning to do this the second it happened in the anime. Most of you would know about it by then. I suggest that you do not read this if you have not read the manga or if you have not watched episode 22.
This kind of shock is different. It's disemboweling for him.
It's irreparable, confusing and genuine.
Nothing can fix this moment's mistake; his mistake. It's over.
Even he didn't see this coming. What was the future again?
It may the first time Akise doesn't have a solution. He wonders if he's failed as a detective—failed as Yukiteru's self-proclaimed protector. Guilt stings his wound; it's another reminder of his mistake.
Suddenly, the future doesn't matter as much anymore, as his vision fades and his head lightens, blood dissipating.
He tries to think, despite the lack of oxygen and struggles. Is this how it's like to die? Perhaps he was curious before. He lets out a bitter chuckle at the thought of his naivety.
He tries to mouth out words, words that taste just as sick, just as crisp, "God, what have I done?"
In retrospect, what Yuno did seems simple. Far too simple. Far too easy. Nothing's ever easy. It was one of the things he loved about being a detective—the thought, the challenge, the coercion of the game.
He feels sick. It's not even the gaping wound on his neck. Is this really him? Would he think like this? It can't be over. It might be disbelief, but he smiles.
The shame throbs within him, pushing him into his character.
This isn't me.
Akise coughs, blood flying, abstract in its complexities as it sails toward the ground. The boy stands, realizing the game isn't over and continues. This isn't over yet.
I need to tell him.
He chuckles as he struggles toward his endeavor: a single step. He wonders if Deus had something to do with it when he makes it.
His body moves, dragging the flesh and bones along the apocalypse of his home. He finds himself growing more clear headed as he presses on. Things begin to make more sense. The thing that makes the most sense, however, is the fact that he loves him.
His feelings are genuine. He's said it before; believed it before.
When Yukiteru comes into sight, he gives a slight smile, careful not to open his mouth. He probably can't tell; can't see, but he does. The taste of blood tests his tastebuds as he attempts to speak once again. The opening of his mouth is small and Yukiteru can't see the stain of crimson on his teeth. He's grateful.
He's prepared his message, his last words.
He doesn't need his Detective Diary to predict what will happen next.
He knows he'll see it, he knows he'll see him.
And maybe, as sight leaves him, as his body disconnects, that's enough for him.
It's enough.