The placid mountain wind slowly peters out, the unnaturally still and silent air creating an alien atmosphere where the boundaries of Taki and Mitsuha's separate times have blurred together. A pregnant pause hangs between Taki and Mitsuha, an undeniable tension building despite their peaceful surroundings. Mitsuha is the one to break the silence, the crunch of stones underfoot the only sound as she takes a step towards Taki.
"Taki. . .you're really here," Mitsuha says, more to herself than to Taki. She closes her eyes and smiles, reveling in the moment she had dreamed of for so long. After switching places so many times, after being separated by the distance between Itomori and Tokyo and the time of three years, after being held apart by death and time, Mitsuha and Taki finally meet face to face.
"Mitsuha. . ." Taki breathes. Seeing her is a joy beyond description, to finally be united with her. Taki steps forward and tightly embraces Mitsuha, as if he's trying to take in everything about her: how beautiful she looks in the dying evening light, the melodious sound of her voice carried by sweet mountain wind, how tangible and comforting she feels in his arms. With anyone else, he knows such a sudden gesture would be too forward, but there's a tacit understanding between him and Mitsuha, easily communicated just by being in each other's presence.
Mitsuha hugs him back, welcoming the physical and emotional contact. She's never felt so fulfilled or content before, like she's finally found her missing half. "You came all this way to see me."
"I could say the same for you," Taki says right back.
And it's true. Yes, Taki did try to save Itomori first, but in the end his struggle was in vain. He had managed to save a few people, and while he did keep Mitsuha from dying, in a sense, he also left her stranded in time. Bothered by the unintended consequences of his action, he gently pushes Mitsuha to arm's length. "I'm sorry, Mitsuha. I. . .I tried. And it's my fault you had to go through so much. If only I hadn't failed. . . ."
"No, Taki. Don't blame yourself." Mitsuha reaches out and takes hold of Taki's hands despite Taki's attempt to put distance between them. "I know you suffered too. You. . .you died in my place. And if it weren't for you, we would never have had the chance to meet like this. You've given me more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you."
Mitsuha gives Taki's hands a tight squeeze, silently reassuring him. The contented silent conveys more than mere words could ever hope to, but soon their attention returns to their important task. Mitsuha looks up at the comet, its tail shimmering in prismatic beauty, her eyes set in hard determination.
"Don't worry, Mitsuha," Taki tells her. "There's still time. But you've got a lot to do."
Mitsuha only nods, the ecstatic fluttering of her heart turning to anxious dread as she realizes that the fleeting magic hour is coming to a close. Taki seems to notice as well, for he pulls out a pen and present Mitsuha with an idea.
"Hey, Mitsuha. Just so we don't forget things when we wake up, let's write down our names."
Before Taki can start, however, Mitsuha takes the initiative and snatches the pen from him. Taki just accepts it and presents his hand to Mitsuha. She reverently takes Taki's hand and begins writing. Once she finishes, she lets Taki take the pen. He likewise takes her hand and starts writing.
But the tip of the pen leaves only a single black line before the pressure Taki's applying suddenly has nothing pushing back against it, only empty air occupying the space where Mitsuha's hand had been mere seconds ago. Taki blinks as he slightly loses his balance, not fully registering what's happened.
"Mitsuha?" he still asks. "Hey, Mitsuha?"
His calls go unanswered.
The sun finally disappears behind the horizon, heralding the end of the magic hour. Only then does Taki accept that Mitsuha is gone. It's bittersweet, but Taki will forever hold this memory dear. How comfortable and natural it was to be with each other, and their forced parting only strengthens Taki's resolve to find Mitsuha. Only then does Taki belatedly remember that he had forgotten one last important task: he hadn't returned Mitsuha's braided cord. All the more reason that Taki promises himself that he will never forget.
"I was planning to tell you, that wherever you are in the world, I swear I will find you again. No matter what," Taki says to himself. He continues to tightly grip the pen, as if it were his one remaining link to Mitsuha. "Your name is Mitsuha. I-It'll be okay. . .I'll remember! Taki. Taki. Taki. Your name is Taki. Your name is. . ."
Taki's heart falls when his memory fails him out of the blue. He had been saying her name just seconds before, but now he can't remember it. He immediately presses the tip of the pen into the palm of his left hand and starts writing, but his hand comes to a shaky pause when he can't remember her name. The pen wavers for a brief moment before Taki, defeated, lets it slip from his fingers. He slumps to his knees, arms dangling uselessly by his side, as he futilely tries to remember.
From the corner of his eye, Taki barely spies a dark mark on the pale palm of his hand, aided by the dying half-light of twilight. In that instant, he remembers just one, single thing: that so they wouldn't forget, they would write their names on each other's hands. Taki slowly turns the open face of his palm toward himself, his eyes widening as the characters on his palm come into view. Tears gather in his eyes as he comprehends what he's reading, but Taki can't help but smile.
"Writing this. . .doesn't help," Taki whispers softly, his words whisked away by the mountain wind.
Hey. . .who. . .are you?
Mitsuha runs as fast as she can, the wind whipping in her ears.
Who. . .who? Who is he?
The blaring sirens and Saya's emergency broadcast have long stopped; the only sounds Mitsuha can hear now are her own ragged panting and the chorus of insects oblivious to the danger above.
Someone precious. Someone I shouldn't forget. Someone I didn't want to!
Everything is falling apart and Mitsuha is running out of time.
Who? Who?! Who are you? What's your name?!
Mitsuha spares the quickest of glances up at the comet fragment, which proves to be a fatal mistake. She fails to notice the broken pavement in her way, and one of her feet slams painfully into the raised concrete and sends her tumbling to the ground. She bounces once or twice before finally rolling to a stop on her side, battered from the ugly spill. Mitsuha lays there with her eyes screwed shut, agonizing pain searing through her leg. She doesn't need anyone to tell her that something's horribly wrong.
It would be so easy to give up. Maybe this was how things are supposed to be. Fighting against fate and gods seems so foolish now. Why had she been trying so hard? She wanted to save someone, but who was it? If she can't even remember that person, is it worth it to keep trying anymore?
As her doubts echo throughout her mind, an unknown yet achingly familiar voice cuts through the chaos and confusion in her head, calming Mitsuha's fretful soul.
So that we don't forget things when we wake up, let's write down our names.
She opens her eyes and stares at her hand, her palm devoid of any writing—save for a single unfinished line. He never had the chance to finish, did he?
But she did.
So, somewhere out there, written on his hand, he'll know her true feelings.
And that's enough for Mitsuha.
Mitsuha's eyes blaze, her fiery determination easily matching the overwhelming might of Tiamat's heavenly flames.
This isn't the end.
She won't let it be.
Taki wakes up, his body sore in so many places that he doesn't bother trying to count. At first, he doesn't understand it, but when he gathers his bearings he realizes why he failed to have a restful sleep. Apparently, he had fallen asleep on top of a mountain. The last thing he remembers is climbing up here after leaving Okudera and Tsukasa behind. . .but that's it.
"Why am I here?" Taki asks no one in particular, not even himself.
Unbidden, a fuzzy memory flashes before his eyes: standing on this very mountain, a hand, smaller and softer than his own, takes his and presses the tip of a pen into his palm. Just as suddenly the vision came, it passes. Confused, Taki brings his hand up and slowly opens it, not sure if he'll even find anything there.
His eyes widen as he reads and rereads the black ink that does, in fact, mark his palm.
"What is this. . . ?"
Taki can't even remember who wrote on his hand, but the four simple words they left still bring him an inexplicable comfort, even through the gaping hole in his heart.
I love you too.
