Beneath an eternal sunset, a small dinghy bobbed back and forth atop the waves of an endless sea. At the insistence of the amber glow that leaked through his lids, the dinghy's lone passenger pried open his eyes and peered over the edge. In the distance, a tall man in an elegant white mask stood upon the water's surface, watching. Aside from the mask, his clothes were dark and plain, and his features similarly unremarkable.
The boy blinked, and he was gone.
He rolled over onto his side. With a sigh, he curled into a ball and shut his eyes tight once more. A thick fog had settled upon his thoughts, and all he wanted to do was wade into it and disappear.
"…I'll still be there – I promise..."
Faint voices emerged like shadows in the mist.
"…Get up! C'mon, get up…!"
The boy winced, shrinking deeper into himself. Please, leave me alone, he thought, but the voices persisted, dredging up fragments of half-remembered scenes that hurt to think about.
He tossed and turned, pressing his ear against the bottom of the dinghy, seeking to overpower the noise with the sea's rhythmic thrum.
"…I'll allow you one more week to consider your fate…"
A frustrated cry rang out across the horizon, and the boy rolled over the side of the dinghy and into the sea's embrace. Deeper and deeper he sank, allowing himself to become heavy, accepting the roar of the water as it rushed into his ears and nose and mouth. He floated precariously there, at the dark maw of oblivion, before his instincts took hold against his will, shocking him awake with a start.
Tetsuo studied the ceiling as he steadied his breath. He knew the aged, browning cork panels at once – the old school annex. Propping himself up onto his elbows, the surface beneath him wobbled slightly, and he found that he had been laid atop several desks pushed together to create a makeshift cot.
Groggily, he swung his legs over the side of the desks and wiped his face in his hands with a soft groan. The fog from his dream had yet to subside, and he was dimly aware of an insistent tug at the back of his mind that begged him to recall something important. For a while, he sat there numbly casting about in his head for answers before he was interrupted by the shuffle of footsteps outside the door.
"You're up."
Yoko stood frozen in the doorway, watching him intently from behind the lenses of her mask.
"How are you doing?"
The sight of her hit him like a flashbang, and a barrage of images, voices, and emotions sprang from the gloom in sudden, terrible clarity. Bitterness, melancholy, and fear seized hold of him in equal measure as he wrestled to put the recollections that flashed through his mind's eye in some semblance of order.
He saw himself crossing blades with Yoko and Gin, felt the indescribable heat of their Personas' magic, watched Megidolaon blister across the horizon in its searing white fury…
…And then, her voice. Comforting. Reassuring. Singing the song he'd played for her what seemed like forever ago. And after that…
Noise. Scrambled television and dialup tones, cut only by an ultimatum uttered in Nisekao's voice.
Tetsuo lurched off of the desks and stumbled towards Yoko on unsteady feet.
"Rin. Where's Rin?"
Yoko took a step back. Her mace was leaning against the doorframe, just out of Tetsuo's sight. She pushed back against the urge to reach for it.
"Hey, settle down, Tetsuo," she said, trying to keep her own voice calm, and finding it harder than she'd expected. "Just have a seat and we'll talk."
Her non-answer had quite the opposite effect of what she'd intended. Anxiety gripped Tetsuo with cold iron talons, squeezing the breath from his windpipe in short, frantic bursts. His fingers were digging into her shoulder blades before hers could even find the grip of her mace, his irises strobing between gold and black with manic energy.
"What happened, Yoko? Where's Rin?"
Yoko's heartbeat thudded against her chest. Speechless, her mouth opened and closed several times, trying without success to formulate the right words. She could practically feel his heart in the palm of her hand, a fragile glass sculpture teetering on a razor-thin edge, threatening to topple and shatter at the slightest provocation. So far, she'd managed to keep it together, but it had left her worn down, physically and mentally. The last thing she wanted to do was give this poor kid more bad news.
"Come with me," she said at last, and Tetsuo loosened his grip.
Silently, she led him from the annex and through the outdoor walkways that connected the two buildings. The sky had lost some of its scarlet hue, but dark thunderheads were gathering overhead, and the air smelled damp. Distant, low rumbling reached their ears, and Yoko quickened her pace until they were inside again under the harsh, familiar fluorescents.
After winding through several corridors, it became apparent to Tetsuo where he was being taken. As they rounded another corner, the nurse's office came into view, and hysteria got the better of him. Darting around Yoko, he lunged for the handle and flung himself inside.
No sooner had he forced his way in than he found himself pinned to the wall, staring into a mirror of his own frenzied expression, the ruby red lines of Pellinore's targeting system converging into a single dot on his forehead. Several seconds passed as Gin held him there, his chest heaving and incoherently forming sounds that were more snarls than words. However, Tetsuo's attention had already shifted to the prone figure on the cot behind him.
Rin lay there still as an oil painting, arms loosely held at her side, her pale lips slightly parted as though she'd just caught on to the punchline of a mildly funny joke. Her scarf, now dyed the color of the skies above, lay open at her throat with its still-jade ends trailing across the floor. Although layers of gauze hid the extent of the wound from view, two thin red slits like the fangs of a great snake still wept through.
Disbelief coiled itself around his guts, squeezing until it had all gone numb, and he went slack in Gin's hands.
"What is this?" Tetsuo said, to no one in particular. Rain began to drum against the roof.
"What is he doing here?" Gin hissed.
Yoko stepped forward. "The same reason you are. Let him go."
Gin took a brief glance back at his twin's body and let the Shadow fall from his hands. He collapsed heavily onto a short stool, and the anger in his eyes dimmed until only a blank, searching stare remained.
"She's…not doing well," said Yoko. "Mariko was able to stop the bleeding, but without real medical attention, I don't know what'll happen next."
Tetsuo blinked wildly in disbelief. His throat suddenly felt like it was full of cotton, and it hurt to swallow.
"What happened? She…she promised me…"
"You should ask Nisekao – or Nyarlathotep – or whatever the hell he wants to be called. After all, the two of you have a contract, don't you?" spat Gin. "At least, that's what he said before he..."
The words caught in his throat, and he turned away so the others wouldn't see him choke. It was such an unguarded, raw reaction that Tetsuo knew he was telling the truth.
A fit of frigid shaking gripped him. Was this because he had refused to hurt Rin?
"This wasn't what…I didn't want this…" he stammered.
"Then fix it," said Gin flatly. "Take control for once and tell Nyarlathotep you want to return to the real world."
Tetsuo seized up, and his breathing accelerated to match the breakneck pace of his thoughts. No matter who he sided with, he'd be making an impossible sacrifice. Would Nisekao even let him go if he asked? Once again, he could sense that his control over his fate was slipping through his fingers, and it was unraveling his mind like a skein of string.
"Tch. What did I expect?" scoffed Gin. "If this isn't enough to change your heart, what is?"
Turning his back to them, he bent over his twin and clasped one of her hands in his.
"Get out. If this the end, then I want to spend it with my sister."
"Gin, come on! What you're asking him to do isn't easy!" Yoko protested, but she may as well have been talking to herself.
Tetsuo reeled as though he'd been slapped. Feeling sick to his stomach, he turned and darted from the room as fast as his legs could take him.
"Hey! Nooo, no no no no, wait!" Yoko cried out, and with a backwards scowl at Gin, she took off after him.
Following the sound of his footsteps, she chased him all the way to the entrance, but by the time she burst through the front doors and out into the pouring rain, he was nowhere to be seen. The city had folded him into its embrace, and Yoko knew it wouldn't let him be found.
All at once, the weight of it all came crashing down on her, and she dropped to her knees into the mud.
"Come on! Tetsuo!"
Hot tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and she desperately tried to blink them back.
"I can't do this by myself," she whimpered. Then, unable to hold back any longer, she felt herself break.
• • • • •
Sha-shunk. Sha-shunk.
The wheels rattle beneath the train.
Sunrise shines
Through window panes.
He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd boarded. Seconds, minutes, hours…after a while, time became fluid as it melted together and lost its meaning. Outside the window, the same stretch of city skyline whizzed past over and over again like the backgrounds in old, cheap cartoons. It was only there out of necessity, the absolute bare minimum needed to establish a sense of place and direction. Ultimately, the train had no destination. What mattered was the impression of movement, of being carried somewhere very far away.
Tetsuo pulled his knees tighter up under his chin. The car was nearly full of Shadows, all bearing the same gold-rimmed ivory masks. They wore the suits of salarymen, the prim skirts and blouses of housewives, the grey blazers and houndstooth trousers of high school students, yet for all the familiarity, their eyeless, straight-ahead stares made him feel like he was sharing the train with a crowd of mannequins. They paid neither him nor each other any mind, and before long, Tetsuo found himself doing the same. He allowed himself to forget about Cloud Nine and Rin and Nisekao's deadline – to simply persist was effort enough.
"Arriving at Air Mall Station. The doors on your right will open. This is Air Mall Station."
The PA's gentle monotone pulled Tetsuo from his uneasy reverie as the train began to slow. When it finally came to a stop, the doors beside him slid open with a soft hiss and several Shadows shuffled past on their way out. He sat there for a moment, waiting for the train to start moving again, but the longer he waited, the more he wondered if it was waiting for him. Finally, one of the Shadows stopped in front of him, and extended its hand.
"Come on," it said in Hayate's voice. "Let's grab some ramen."
• • • • •
The ramen looked perfect, but Tetsuo couldn't find the appetite for it. Instead, he pushed the rapidly cooling noodles back and forth in the bowl, studying his reflection in the bubbles of glistening fat that wobbled across the surface of the broth. Beside him, Hayate pushed his mask aside and tipped the rest of his ramen into his mouth with a noisy, satisfied slurp. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he turned to Tetsuo and grinned.
"Hits the spot, huh?"
Tetsuo continued to stare morosely into his bowl. He felt pathetic for conjuring up this thing to pretend to care about him.
"Who's pretending?" asked Hayate. "I'm your friend, man."
An awkward silence ensued, filled in by the drone of the crowd in the background. Tetsuo's fingers tightened around his chopsticks.
"That's…only because I want you to be. Because…that's what you're supposed to do."
Snap.
The chatter around them ground to a halt, leaving only the sound of the broken chopsticks as they skittered across the floor.
"If we were back in the real world…none of you would even talk to someone like me."
Tucking his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, Hayate leaned over to scoop up the snapped chopsticks and placed them neatly back on Tetsuo's tray.
"Why's that?" he asked, turning to face Tetsuo. "Because of the accident?"
Somehow, Tetsuo couldn't bring himself to meet his cognition's eyes.
"It was like…no one saw me as a person anymore. It didn't matter whether they were disgusted by me or pitied me. I was just something…uncomfortable. Inconvenient."
Hayate's gaze softened.
"Oh. And you thought I was like that, huh? At least, the real me."
"I-" Tetsuo's face tightened as he struggled to think of what to say. "I don't know? You were…different? We had the same homeroom, but we never spoke much. Honestly...I thought you were kind of annoying."
Hayate winced. "Yeesh. I guess that's why you hated me in the beginning."
"No! I didn't...hate you. If anything, I was jealous of you. You cracked jokes even if you were the only one who laughed at them. You would always invite yourself to get food or go to karaoke with other people whether they asked you or not. You could trust people so easily, and when they rejected you, you acted like it didn't even bother you. But me…every time someone spoke to me, I couldn't help but wonder what they really wanted. Because it couldn't be my friendship. If I could've just been more like you, maybe I wouldn't have…"
Suddenly, his voice cracked, stopping himself from finishing the thought. Hayate slid a friendly arm over his shoulders.
"Hey, it's okay, man. Don't beat yourself up. It's not easy to let stuff like that go."
"That's what's nice about being here. It's easier not to care what people think because…I actually like who I am. There's nothing wrong with me, there's no extra baggage…I can just…exist."
"That's why you don't wanna leave, huh?"
Hayate's question hung in the air, unanswered. Tetsuo blinked, and saw Rin's pallid skin in the back of his eyelids. If he said how he really felt, would it be a commitment. A betrayal. It was more comfortable to leave his feelings ambiguous.
If Hayate knew, he didn't make it obvious. Instead, he leaned over and scooped up the bowl of cold ramen.
"Well, if you're not gonna finish that…"
• • • • •
Sha-shunk. Sha-shunk.
The wheels rattle beneath the train.
Daylight spills
Through window panes.
"Arriving at Yamamori Station. The doors on your right will open. This is Yamamori Station."
When the doors opened again and Tetsuo got off, only one other Shadow disembarked with him. He looked back over his shoulder, and both the train and the platform were gone, replaced by a dense spray of foliage.
Wordlessly, the two of them set off past the manor and up the path that twisted through the stands of ancient pines that dotted the mountain. The air was crisp and clear and quiet, so much so that not even birdsong disturbed it. Neither Tetsuo nor his partner were keen to interrupt the peace with chatter. Instead, he focused on the rhythm of his footsteps as they crunched against the gravel and fell into a comfortable, almost meditative trance until they reached the shrine at the summit.
There, they found a couple bottles of ice cold water waiting for them by the offertory box. Tetsuo took one and had a small sip before realizing he wasn't particularly thirsty, so he put the water back where he found it before wandering over to a cluster of rocks near the edge of the hilltop where the trees thinned. He found one that was flat enough to sit on comfortably, and stared out at the huge swathes of spruce-topped mountains that rolled into the distance like giant green waves. After a while, the Shadow came to join him and took a seat nearby – close, but not too close.
Tetsuo turned his head towards it.
"…Koharu?"
She nodded, sliding the orange skull mask up over her forehead with a sidelong glance.
"Mm."
He turned his attention back to the countryside. It wouldn't be so bad, he thought, to stay here for a while.
Several minutes passed before either of them spoke again.
"Am I bugging you?" she asked.
"…No."
"Okay. Good."
Farther down the mountain, there came the faint squeal of the cable car parked at the station, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze, waiting for no one.
"…I'm horrible, aren't I?" said Tetsuo.
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm a coward. I know what I'm supposed to do, but I just don't have the courage to do it."
Koharu gave him a solemn stare in return.
"I don't think being scared and being a coward are always the same thing. I think anyone would be afraid of what you're facing."
Tetsuo drew his chin against his chest and stared at the ground.
"What if I wake up and the real versions of all of you…don't like the real version of me?" He pulled himself in even tighter. "I don't want to live in a world where we were only friends in my memories. I don't think I could take it. I don't want everything that's happened to me here to mean nothing."
Koharu let out a small sigh.
"I get it. No one wants to be rejected for who they are. I don't think that makes you horrible. But…" She trailed off and thought. "I wonder if maybe you're selling yourself a little short. Do you really feel like you haven't changed at all after all of this?"
"Have I?" It was barely more than a whisper escaping his lips. "If I've really changed, then why did I attack them?"
Tetsuo buried his head in between his arms.
"Even if I wake up, would she forgive someone as selfish as me?"
The cognition beside him turned her gaze towards the horizon.
"I don't know. But…if you leave things the way they are, you'll never find out, will you?"
Koharu stood up, and her eyes found his.
"And I don't really think you're okay with that."
• • • • •
Sha-shunk. Sha-shunk.
The wheels rattle beneath the train.
Sunset ablaze
Through window panes.
A cheer went up from a pair of Fighting Vipers machines near the center of the dimly-lit arcade. From his spot near the vending machines, Tetsuo watched as a scrawny Shadow leapt up from its seat and thrust its arms into the air in victory. Its opponent immediately followed suit, leaning over the machines and pushing an accusatory finger into the winner's chest. A heated argument quickly ensued. Although their speech was little more than a series of guttural noises and shrieks, their tone conveyed the nature of the conversation easily enough. Eventually, the winner backed down, and beat a hasty retreat towards the exit. Unsatisfied, the other Shadow motioned to a couple of its friends, and they took off after it.
Tetsuo felt a large hand on his shoulder, and he looked up into the face of an enormous Shadow wearing a shield-shaped mask.
"Come," said Shibutani as he removed the mask and cast it aside. "Even if you don't believe there's anything you can do, sometimes your presence is enough to make a difference."
They found the scrawny Shadow in the alley beside the arcade, surrounded by the loser and its two friends. As soon as they heard Shibutani's footsteps behind them, they whirled about with a start.
"We can make it three-on-three, or you can beat it," he growled, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
The three Shadows didn't waste any time considering his offer and scrambled past Tetsuo and Shibutani, muttering darkly under their breath. The scrawny Shadow then gave them both a brief, polite bow before retreating back into the arcade. As Tetsuo watched it leave, he felt flush with the dull burn of resentment and shame.
"If only every conflict were so simple to resolve. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"
Tetsuo nodded.
"It's so much easier to do when you're strong. All I have to do is summon my Persona, smack around some Shadows, and everything goes back to the way it should be. It was nice to have an answer to my problems for once."
He looked up into Shibutani's gentle, dark eyes, and found them full of pity.
"And did that give you the peace you were looking for?"
He hadn't mentioned it directly, but Tetsuo knew exactly what he was talking about. Nisekao had given him all he could ask for, but his memories of that day had still persisted.
"I still don't understand…I could forget everything else, so why couldn't I forget that?"
"It's because you have a strong heart. Deep within, it implores you to do the right thing, even though it will cause you pain."
And then, Tetsuo felt it, deep in the very core of his soul. A calling, insistent, pulling him away from the idle comfort of the flimsy vignettes he'd been stumbling through. His heart was now somewhere far away and long ago, begging him to be tortured, to confront something real.
"…I have to go," he said.
The train was there beside them, its doors open, jingle blaring through the cold winter air.
"And I will be there when you need me again," said Shibutani.
• • • • •
Sha-shunk. Sha-shunk.
The wheels rattle beneath the train.
The dark surrounds
Those window panes.
"Yasoinaba. Yasoinaba."
Tetsuo stumbled onto the platform as if in a daze. Everything about the small, rural town felt suspended in time, like a scene crystallized within a snow globe. Although he had only experienced a small part of it on that day, Tetsuo navigated the deserted streets as though following the point of a compass, until at last, he found himself back at the place where his life had changed forever.
In many ways, it was just as he remembered it in those hazy, harrowing visions. In others, it wasn't at all. His family's car was long gone, leaving behind only a set of tire tracks in the soft dirt and a bowed, splintered tree where it had swerved off the road. Even now, he could still hear his mother's desperate cries as she staggered about in the half-light, realizing what it was that she would now have to do for the sake of her son.
A rush of emotion overcame him, and Tetsuo forced himself to turn away. He looked back towards the road and found Mariko, still as a statue, studying the chalk outline of a woman traced into the asphalt.
"You're Nanako Dojima." The words surprised him, as if someone else had spoken for him.
He blinked once, and she was a small girl. Twice, and she was Mariko again.
"I am…and I'm not," she answered. "The real Nanako is only six years old, after all. This form – Mariko – was something you invented yourself. Still, while I'm not entirely her, I'm also not entirely you. I know things about her that you couldn't know. Much like you are, she's asleep right now, drifting upon the Sea of Souls. The two of you are bound to each other by fate - by the events that happened here. Your hearts found one another out there in the collective unconscious…and made me."
"Right. I remember seeing you…on the news, that is," he said, his voice trembling. "I heard your story, and I knew. That lady Dad hit...she was your mother."
Guilt throbbed in his temples, pooled in the corners of his eyes, seeking the release he'd been denying it for years, yet there was nothing in Mariko's impassive expression willing to receive it. She was what she said she was – another cognition of his own creation, and she possessed neither the anger nor the loathing he sought.
"Mom was the only one of us who was unhurt. She must have realized what had happened right away – Dad was dead, and I couldn't feel my legs. The car could still run, so she panicked…and drove away. She did everything she could to hide what had happened. Buried Dad in the backyard, told our family and his coworkers that he'd run off and disappeared. Had the car scrapped at a junkyard outside of the city."
The tears ran freely now. His sinuses shrank, and his lips tasted of salt.
"She once told me that I had to keep it all a secret. I didn't need to be told. I knew why she did it. She ran to protect me. To make sure I wouldn't have to be alone. So…if you want to blame anyone, please, blame me!"
Tetsuo shut his mouth quickly. He was shouting.
Mariko approached him, regarding him with that same blank, unwavering stare. Then, she reached up, wiped his tears away with a thumb, and smiled. Sadly, softly.
"What good would that do? That's not what you want."
"I couldn't live with that secret. It was always there, with its fingers around my neck. Sometimes, it squeezed so hard that I wished it would finally crush me and get it over with. What I thought…what I hoped, was that if you could come to understand me…to be my friend, then maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to forgive me. And I'd be able to breathe again."
"You know I can't do that for you, Tetsuo. If forgiveness is what you want, then you should ask her for it yourself."
Even now, now that he craved reprimand, her voice was so gentle. Compassionate. Unbearable.
"I know."
A lull descended between them, and in that space, within labyrinthine subconscious, the faintest glimmer of resolve shone through the haze of fear that infested Tetsuo's thoughts. He could hide here no longer.
"…Mariko."
"Hm?"
"Do you think Dojima-chan would blame me for being afraid?"
Behind him, he heard the rumble of the train as it cut across the pavement, then the hiss of the doors, beckoning him aboard one last time.
"I think she understands what it's like."
• • • • •
Sha-shunk. Sha-shunk.
The wheels rattle beneath the train.
Starlight glitters
Through window panes.
Those lights above,
Growing dim,
Exchange goodbyes
Once again.
When he arrived home, the lights were still on, and the air was thick with the scent of garlic and fragrant oil. He unlatched the gate to let himself in, and just as he set his hand upon the door, the low murmur of casual conversation reached his ears. The sound of their voices caused him to hesitate. It would have certainly been simpler to harden his heart and turn away, but this wasn't indulgence for indulgence's sake. He opened the door, and stepped inside.
The scene played out like it was supposed to, the way he remembered it during the days when his father was there. He removed his shoes, left his bag by the stairs, and greeted his parents' beaming faces at the table. His mother asked him about school while his father loaded up his plate. He offhandedly gave them a pleasant lie about his day, then asked them about theirs, even though he knew it all by heart.
Natsumi Katsuji split her time between housekeeping and studying for the law degree she'd deferred when Tetsuo was born. She was brilliant and sharp-witted, but as his father had often joked, her only mistake had been settling for him. Although they'd been far from well-off, Tetsuo was almost surprised by how carefree she'd been back then. To see her laugh and banter like this with him and his father, he regretted that he'd forgotten this version of her until now.
Shinji Katsuji ran a small comfort food restaurant not too far from their home in downtown Toshima, but the word 'small' undersold it. Inside, there were two tables, one long, wooden countertop, and an assortment of seven seats that ranged from barstools to plastic chairs. The food was brilliant, but the neighborhood was seedy and foot traffic was sparse, so today, just like every other day, business hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped. Still, if Shin was disappointed, he never let it show. He wore the same effusive smile on his bad days as he did on his good days, and Tetsuo always got the impression that the restaurant never really mattered all that much to him. It was a means to an end, and just like a schoolkid at the end of the day, he was always happiest just to be home.
This was them as they truly were, free from any desire of his to envision them differently. The simple act of sharing a meal together one last time was more powerful than any fantasy he or Nisekao had ever managed to fashion, and it made his heart swell so much it hurt.
However, as all good things do, it came to an end, and much too quickly. The food disappeared, the conversation dwindled to mundane topics, and finally, the three of them rose from the table.
Natsumi, understanding that this moment was not for her, gathered her law textbooks from the endtable by the sofa and excused herself upstairs, but not before her son took her into his arms and hugged her goodnight. As he briefly rested his head on her shoulder, it was hard for him not to break down thinking about what he would have to say to her the next time they met. But that was a matter for the future, and as he watched his mother climb up the stairs and out of his sight, he was intensely grateful that she would still be a part of it.
And then, it was only them. A father and his son, standing at opposite ends of the kitchen, separated by an entire sea of souls.
Same as it had ever been.
Just as it had never been.
All of the raw emotion he'd been suppressing surged into his throat, his heart, his brain, choking back all the things he'd planned to say. Somehow, none of it seemed adequate. His willpower was fading fast, and Tetsuo began to think he'd made a mistake.
Shinji stopped in the middle of the plate he was washing and set it aside.
"It's about that time, isn't it?"
He crossed the kitchen, closed the gap, and placed his hands on his son's shoulders.
"Wish it could've been a little longer, huh?"
If only he'd said anything but that. Unable to hold back any longer, Tetsuo wrapped his arms around his father, clinging desperately to him like a small child.
"I-I can't do this," he mumbled in between heaving sobs. "Not without you."
"Yes, you can," his father murmured as he cradled him and smoothed his unruly hair. "You've got people waiting on you. Counting on you. They need you more than I do."
"I know, but…I don't want to wake up and realize that you're not there anymore. I-It's not fair that I have to say goodbye to you again!"
"Don't think of it that way. It's not about the goodbyes. It's about the time we spent before them. And I couldn't be happier to have had the chance to spend just a little bit more time with you."
Tetsuo clenched his teeth and grasped tighter at his father's shirt, only for his fingers to pass right through and dig into his palm. Shinji's form wavered in his hands, his serene expression shimmering before him. Tetsuo shut his eyes tight.
"Remember, no matter what happens next, I'll never be far away. I love you, Tetsuo."
When Tetsuo opened his eyes again, the house was dark, the table was bare, and he had sunk to his knees, his arms still frozen in the ghost of his father's embrace. He remained like that for some time, allowing his grief to run its course. And once his heart finally reached its capacity to hurt, he pulled himself to his feet and wiped his face dry. As he stood at the door, he took one look back at the place he tried to call home.
"I love you too, Dad. Always," he whispered into the dark, and gathering his courage, he set off again on his own two feet.
