The Teardrop Promise

A Persona 4: Shin Megami Tensei fanfiction

By, Vivat Musa

Hospitals shouldn't be like this, Teddie thought.

The walls, the beds, even the nurses haunting the halls looked bleak. Everything was painted white. Not like a diamond or celestial white, but a drab white like dirty sand. Even the chairs were as uninviting as they appeared, metal constantly digging into your skin. It was like the doctors and nurses didn't even want the patients to get better. If they did, why would they design the rooms to feel so impersonalized and devoid of life?

If Teddie had it his way, a vase of bearutiful flowers would be displayed in every corner, and the walls would be painted cheery blues and yellows and greens, colors reminiscent of spring. Nurses wouldn't have such a curt, tight-lipped look about them, but rather a smile that would make their patients want to smile, too. The windows would be opened wide to let in the fresh breeze and the music of everyday life; children giggling, birds chirping, and cars rushing by. Patients would be reminded why they wanted to get better. If a hospital was like that, then Nanako would get well and—

And she would….

Nanako would…

Nanako.

Daydreams were torn away as reality made a jarring return. The memories of Teddie's own visit to the hospital and everything that had led up to it barreled over him like a tsunami.

Taro Namatame.

Heaven.

Nana-chan.

Dying.

The world whirled, blurs of white, red at the edges. His nose stung, eyes stung, burned with chemicals and medicine. His chest rattled up and down, fast, yet he couldn't breathe. Teddie groped at his chest, expecting to find a gaping hole where his heart was supposed to be, but feeling only linen and smooth skin underneath, completely unmarred by the turmoil inside.

The drab curtains were open, but the room was still cast in eerie shadows. It was so dark that it could have been mistaken as vacant, if not for the tiny body swallowed up in the hospital bed and the occasional beep of a machine. A metal chair, just as uninviting as the rest in the building, bit into the back of Teddie's calves. Teddie didn't know if it was rude to stand while your friend couldn't even get out of bed, but he didn't want to sit, either. Sitting made him feel like he was doing nothing, as if he had already given up. At least when he was standing he felt more in control. But any delusions of control drained away when he looked at the little girl whose chin barely peeked above the sheets. The ugly white pillow bleached her already pale face, and yet pronounced the feverish pink in her cheeks. Her tiny chest rose and fell in uneven, ragged breaths. Even her sleep looked exhausting.

Yosuke's voice thundered in his ears. "This all has to do with the world you came from! Can't you figure something out!?"

Teddie knew the words came from grief and hopeless frustration, and did not reflect any anger at him, specifically, but they still cut like broken glass—because they were true. It was his home world that was robbing Nana-chan of her life. And he could not stop it. He was powerless. Helpless. Not only did he not belong in this hospital, with the person he loved—and hurt—the most, but he did not belong here. This dimension, this world, this…gift.

The only reason he and the shadow world even existed was because of the human world. The shadows fed off the vibrancy and life of the parallel world like leaches, and yet no matter how hard they tried to prove otherwise, they were still just empty shells. Shadows. Not just the monsters that Teddie and his friends had fought, but the ones that linger in both worlds. They were that faint impression that mimics something bigger and greater than itself, but never comes close to the richness of the original.

Even now Teddie was afraid that one day he would zip up his bear suit and it would never come off, because there was nothing to come off—nothing inside but emptiness. Not even a single hair to remember the body that had been created to fill the void. Teddie knew that his fear would have become a permanent reality if Yu and his friends had not found him. Teddie would have wandered the shadow world forever without a true identity or purpose, eventually crossing that fine line between a shell in ignorant bliss, and a hollow monster like the ones he now fights, envious of what they cannot have. His friends had changed that for him. They had been the reason why he has shape and depth and color—not just an empty suit, but his own person, his own identity.

However, even with the Investigation Team's complete acceptance, there was still one thing Sensei and the others could not give him: a childhood. No matter how much Teddie wished they could, his friends could not go back to that phase of naïveté. Why would they want to? They had already crossed that bridge, experienced all the sweet innocence it had to offer, and were now embracing a new chapter of their lives. There was nothing left for them to go back to. Them, that is, excluding Teddie. Although the Investigation Team could not help him, he did find someone who could: Nanako.

It was Nanako who saw Teddie. Nanako who understood that behind the face of the young man was the heart of a child. Perhaps in a way she, too, had been trying to make up for the years that had put a divide between her and her peers after her mother died and her father found solace in work. The days spent where she and Teddie would build snow-bears, run amuck at June's, and simply have fun was their way of finding what they could not obtain alone. Those memories meant more to Teddie than any diamond.

Now to think that he could never play with Nanako again…

A lump formed in Teddie's throat. He placed his hand over Nanako's, his thumb caressing her cold, cold skin. "I'm so sorry, Nana-chan," he choked. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be okay. You wouldn't be in this horrid place, but where you belong—with Sensei and Dojima at home." Teddie squeezed the girl's hand, half-hoping for a reaction, but met with none. He exhaled, letting the air rush out like a deflated balloon. He thought the breath might condense to a wisp of fog; it was so cold. "You'd grow up big and strong and live a happy life. A life where you'd go to school, catch every dream you have, and fall in love with someone who'll treat you like the angel you are. None of that should be taken away. You deserve happiness…more than I do."

Teddie stroked a lock of hair that had fallen over Nana-chan's eyes behind her ear. "I'm not sure where you are in there," he whispered, tapping her temple gently, "but I wish I could follow you, so you wouldn't have to be alone. But I can't.

I'm not sure if you're mad because I saw your Heaven, but it's so beautiful, Nana-chan. So happy, peaceful, free of troubles. A place where angels sing and good guys always win. It's hard to compete with, isn't it? I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to stay there, not when the real world is so confusing—but there're so many amazing things waiting for you here, too. Yuki-chan was telling me about little men who live in gingerbread houses, and then there're these scrumptious things called garlands that you string on trees, but Yosuke says you're not supposed to eat the popcorn off. And Rise said that she'll give us a private performance. Can you imagine that, Nana-chan? Rise singing, just for us. And Yu said that he can't wait to have his little sister back to sing June's commercials, since he can't alone, not with his voice."

Did he imagine it, or did her eyelids flutter just then?

"I promise that once you get better, I'll show you everything the world has to offer. Fireworks, shooting stars, you name it. We'll have so much fun that Namatame and the hospital will seem like a bad dream; you won't even remember it. The only thing you have to do is open your eyes."

Teddie's voice cracked at the end of the sentence, but he smiled anyways. The first thing she'll see when she wakes will be a smile. Not the blank walls or ceilings, but a smile.

"Just wake up, Nanako," Teddie murmured, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "That's all you have to do, and I'll take care of the rest. I promise." He waited for some response: a squeeze of the fingers, a tilt of the head, anything. But there were only the sounds of her raspy breaths and the heartless beeps of the machine. "Wake up, Nana-chan. Please," he choked.

Teddie bent low, head bowed, over the bed. The side bars were ice biting into his stomach, but he didn't care. He lifted Nana-chan's tiny hand in his trembling one, and pressed her cold knuckles against his forehead, closing his eyes, lashes brushing his cheekbones.

"You're…you are my angel."

A lonely, gleaming tear brimmed on the tips of his golden eyelashes. The teardrop rolled down his cheek, leaving a glassy trace behind. It wobbled on his chin, and then—

D

r

o

p

p

e

d

.

For an evanescent second as the tear descended, water caught the light and fractured into a million iridescent rays, shimmering with all the hope and sorrow and love its creator had imbued it with. The light shattered when the teardrop splashed on Nanako's cheek.

One heartbeat.

Slowly…

Two heartbeat.

Breaking…

Three.

With his head still bowed, his fair hair falling over his sapphire eyes, Teddie straightened. His long fingers plucked his trademark rose from his collar, and placed it on Nana-chan's chest with the same reverence of laying flowers on a coffin. Then he arranged her hands over her chest, clasping the thin stem. The scarlet petals were the only color in the room.

Teddie leaned down and brushed a kiss on her forehead.

No words could hope to match what he felt, so he said nothing, and rose from Nana-chan's bedside. His steps echoed as he trudged towards the door, only the beeping of the machine to mark his parting. His fingers closed around the freezing doorknob and pulled. A shaft of light slid through the opening.

He took a step out the door—

His ear twitched at a faint rustle. Teddie froze. He didn't turn around-he couldn't watch another scrap of hope wither to nothing. Then something came again, something almost lost in the obtrusive beeps of the machine. Without his enhanced hearing, Teddie would never have caught the word, and it would have joined all the others whispered and faded when the intended person had already walked away. However, this word was heard.

"...Teddie?"

Teddie smiled. He stepped back, and closed the door.