The desire to write a multi ch fic of this concept is so high...
if you don't do it right the first time
If you had the option to do everything all over again, would you?
What would you change? Why would you change it?
What do you regret?
"You're a mean one as always, Sir Pheles," Renzou says, laughing weakly. The tired sound carries on as the wind passes by them. The young man remains curled up, his chin propped up on his arms which were curled around his knees. He stares forward with a blank look on his face. It's a nice night. The sky is clear, peaceful. It doesn't match Renzou's mood at all.
"I've already messed all this up once," he says quietly. There's blood caked beneath his nails, staining his fingers, his clothes. They haven't stopped trembling yet, no matter how much he wills them to still. "Are you really gonna give me another chance?"
The headmaster steps forward until he's standing on the edge of the roof right beside Renzou.
"Will you do it?" Mephisto asks, his voice light and curious, as if it was a simple matter like choosing what to have for breakfast.
"...Why me?"
At that, the demon king smiles, a sharp line that stretches widely. "You've always had the best potential, Shima-kun. But your motivation was lacking. Until now, hmm?"
There's rarely been a time where Renzou's life hasn't been spinning out of his control. He's been cursed since birth; it is the truth that he's lived with all his life. And he wasn't so naïve as to think that choosing this would change that but—
What do I regret? What would I do differently?
Too many things really.
One thing in particular.
"Yeah, okay," he says. Exhaustion clings to him like a threadbare blanket. There's a part of him that's screaming at him to say no. Hasn't this been enough? Can he really bear to try it all again?
Will anything really change? Will he fuck it all up again?
Renzou closes his eyes. Deeper inside of him there's a fire that burns and burns and burns, eating him up bit by bit, piece by piece. Was it guilt? Was it yearning? Was this his motivation? Was it desperation? Maybe it was anger. The long-seated bitterness he's nursed at the cruelty of the world. Resentment was an old friend.
Hope was a new one.
"Please..." The word bubbles out of Renzou's throat, a feeling so strong, so unfamiliar; it is suffocating. "Please let me try again...!"
His voice rings clear this time.
"Now there's a proper answer!" Mephisto answers, bearing his teeth. "Don't forget that feeling..." he cautions before he is twirling his umbrella and—
This is how Renzou starts his life over again:
When he opens his eyes again, he's lying on the grass, staring into the eyes of a man he's never met before, but one he recognizes.
"Can't say that's the most comfortable place for a nap." A bemused smile accompanied by a suspicious look is aimed at him.
"Dad!"
And there, running towards them, then clutching onto the robe of the priest standing over him, Yukio and Rin stare at Renzou, curious and wide-eyed and innocent. And small.
"You look like hell," Fujimoto Shiro says, offering a hand to Renzou. "Why don't you come inside?"
Renzou stares at the hand, then looks beyond it, at Rin, at Yukio.
He really did go back in time, didn't he?
"Thank you," he murmurs. The feeling of hope surges stronger than ever inside of him, shaking him at his core. He had thought he had run out of tears ages ago, but his eyes feel wet now. Yet, the smile that pulls his lips up at that moment is the most genuine one that he's smiled in years.
His fingers are steady when he takes Shiro's hand.