The air hung heavy in the cell, thick with the sour stench of rot and excrement. Chains jingled softly as a thing shifted, the thing used to be a being known as Natsuki Subaru. Now, all humanity had been stripped away, reduced to ashes by the passage of time. Skin stretched tight over bone, the outlines of such visible, his body barely more than a skeleton. The skin was protected by a hard layer of hardened, sticky grime that caused him a constant itch. His once-shaggy hair was reduced to patchy wisps clinging to a bruised scalp. One eye was swollen shut, greenish honey, dripping out, the other stared lazily into nothing. The only sign of pigmentation came from dark sunken eye bags, a leathery texture that felt rough at every blink.

Scars mapped every inch of him, some old and faded, others raw and glistening with pus. A few were so deep they exposed things that should have stayed hidden, others worked as homes for fungi and parasites that slowly wiggled their way inside. Several teeth were gone, others loose and painted a sickly yellow, gangrene covering every inch of his mouth. His lips were cracked and bloody, every breath a rasp from shredded lungs.

Chunks of his flesh were missing, some cut clean off, others took the shape of bite marks, uneven and messy. He was nothing more than a pile of bones cloaked in decaying, infested skin. A self-sustaining parasite that refused to die, a worthless slothful thing that benefited no one, not even itself.

No one had come for days. Or weeks. Or hours. Time didn't matter anymore.

How long since Felix visited? How long since he had been fed? How long since his waste started to pile up into mountains? How long since he started eating away at the newly formed ecosystem? How long since he lazily opened his mouth and waited for water droplets to fall? And more importantly–

How long since he cared?

It didn't matter

Every second was just another challenge, another obstacle he needed to surpass to increase his lifespan. He lost count of the number of times he died from mana poisoning. His saving grace came in the form of a small fire spirit that somehow found itself in the dark, miasma-infected cell. A pitiful being whose sole purpose was keeping an expired machine functioning by draining the accumulated oil.

Felix had worked hard to bring him back, but had he ever truly brought back Subaru? Did he just make a new being? What even makes a person themselves? After all, we are ever-changing be it in the metaphorical or literal sense. We are all just bags of meat that decay and multiply, growing from the consumption of others. The consumption of flesh that replaces our own, the consumption of experiences that brew together to make up our personality. But is it really so simple? Our experiences are twisted by the way we see the world, a simple drug could affect our emotions, turning our horrible experiences into happy ones. A person could be happy, then be sad a minute later.

So which version of them is the real one?

It doesn't matter

He hasn't been the same, not that it mattered, what lay there couldn't be called human. It would have been better if he had never been brought back if he just stayed in that peaceful wonderland.

With no one around, all he had was himself, someone he didn't know, the only one that shaped who he was. He didn't know the him that Rem saw, he didn't know the him that existed in the hearts of others. And at this point, he didn't even know himself.

He lacked the strength and the will to even try escaping the prison he'd built for himself. All he could do was wait, suffering, eroding, and thinking. That was the worst of it, his thoughts that never seemed to shut up.

How he wished he could…

His vision flickered, eyelid meeting, and his glazy eye was covered by rough flesh.

When Subaru opened his eyes again, it wasn't the cell that greeted him.

It was neon.

The glow of buzzing signs reflected off smooth glass. His breath caught, and clean air entered his nostrils. The scent of fried food drifted from the convenience store beside him. The world was too quiet, too soft. His ragged wheezing had disappeared, replaced by a steady, unfamiliar rhythm. His heartbeat.

He looked down at his hands. Skin, fat, and muscle covered his bones. No fingers were missing, they were whole, pink, alive.

He stumbled backward in shock, arms flailing to catch himself. The sidewalk caught him gently, there was no stone, no mold, no grime. He pushed himself upright, legs trembling from side to side.

A glass window shimmered nearby, he looked at it, the reflection staring back at him was impossibly young. Track suit. Black hair, greasy but intact. Face full. No scars. Two eyes, both open, both clear. His jaw dropped, and his tears prickled his eyes.

"No way..."

He touched his face, fingers moving across skin he thought he'd never feel again. He could speak. His voice was hoarse but not cracked. His mouth wasn't full of blood. His tongue moved without tearing open sores.

"This is a lie," he muttered, clutching at his chest. "This isn't real. I didn't earn this."

But even so, he took a step forward, then another. His legs felt stiff, like they hadn't moved in weeks but he moved, slowly, painfully, like a baby deer finding its legs again. The street was quiet. There were no cars, no people.

He pushed his feet against the pavement, then fell, scraping his elbow. It didn't matter. He laughed in disbelief, a genuine laugh. It actually hurt, real pain.

He was alive.

But… Was that a good thing?

Subaru walked along a neighborhood, one that he knew should feel familiar but… It didn't. Everything felt so foreign to him, like a childhood memory that had faded with time, but he bet that he would feel the same if he walked through the streets of Lagunica. He continued walking slowly, each step carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes. He passed silent vending machines, a dead street without headlights or birds or breeze.

Then his home appeared at the end of the street, standing proud and unchanged, the curtains in the window were drawn just like when he left. It looked like he could walk right in and find his room still messy. Everything should have been the same, and yet… it felt like walking into a memory that didn't belong to him anymore.

He approached, each step toward the door was heavier than the last like something inside him was warning him to turn back. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when he was so close. He pushed on until he stood before the door he hadn't seen in what felt like centuries.

He swallowed, sweat dripping from his forehead. His hand rose with a closed fist, inching towards the door, then it stopped. A wave of Nervousness fell upon his body, locking it in place.

His fingers hovered above the wood. This was the same door his mother used to scold him from. The door he used to peek through when he was too scared to go to school. The same door he closed years ago without realizing it might have been the last time. How many times had he dreamed of seeing it again? Of opening it again and telling his mom 'I'm Home'?

And now…

What was he expecting? Open arms? Forgiveness? Salvation?

"I'm home" he mouthed, unsure

He knocked once, then twice, then–

The sound of footsteps echoed from inside, soft and light. The door creaked open.

"Hello?"

His mother stood in the doorway, wearing a simple apron over a long-sleeved shirt, her face hadn't aged a day. Her eyes were soft, and kind, but their shape made them look mean, and threatening.

He stared at her, the words died at his throat, and the non-existent human interactions chopped away at his already awkward social skills.

"Um… can I help you?" she asked again.

His lips trembled, and his stomach dropped cold.

"…Mom."

She blinked, puzzled. "Do I know you?"

She hesitated, then gently furrowed her brow. "I think you've made a mistake."

His heart cracked, and the world spun beneath him. He staggered back a step, as if her words had punched the air from his chest. "No, no, not this—I swear, it's me! Natsuki Subaru! You gave me that name! I—I used to hate… hmm… peas, remember? I used to love mayonnaise! I used to wait until It was too late for me to get to school! I–" He suddenly stopped, as much as he tried, nothing else came to him.

A long pause.

She looked at him kindly, sadly. "You must be very tired," she said softly.

He stood there, shivering in the doorway.

"Why don't you come in?" She looked at the crying boy with nothing but pity

He nodded, wordlessly.

The inside of the house smelled of soy sauce and wood polish. The hallway light buzzed faintly overhead. His shoes clicked softly on the wooden floor as he stepped in. The walls were lined with photographs. He looked desperately at those frames, trying to find any semblance of himself in them, but they were all strangers. Cousins? Neighbors? Nothing familiar.

His mother guided him to the kitchen table like she was leading a lost dog, which he might as well have been.

"Please, sit down while I prepare you something," she said softly.

He obeyed, his legs shaking.

She returned moments later with a tray, on it there was miso soup, rice, and a small salad. Next to it… a plate of egg sandwiches, slathered with mayonnaise.

"You mentioned you liked mayonnaise, didn't you?" she said, placing the tray in front of him with a slight smile "Luckily for you, that is a Natsuki Family staple"

He stared at the food, his stomach rebelled at the sight, but the smell was comforting. He held back the impulse to dive face-first into the tray, a disgusting habit he had developed. He slowly picked up one of the sandwhiches and took a bite.

The mayonnaise tasted heavenly in his garbage disposal mouth. A luxury brought to him by the gods up above.

He swallowed. His throat ached, and tears spilled from his eyes.

"I… I missed you," he whispered, voice cracking

She didn't respond.

He looked up.

She was sitting across from him, staring with a polite, distant smile, like she was entertaining a guest.

Not a son.

"…Are you one of my relatives?" she asked gently. "You do have the same mean eyes that have cursed my family tree."

She laughed nervously, then waved her hand. "Ahh—sorry! That was rude. You do seem like a very handsome young man, mean eyes and all." She had always tended to speak before she could think.

"Mom.."

"You must be confused. I don't have a son," Naoko calmed down and spoke with a rather harsh tone "Never did."

Subaru flinched.

"But…" she continued, her voice distant, "I always wished I had one. Just one. Someone to cook for. Someone to worry about. Someone to put band-aids on."

His mind was spiraling.

He didn't hear the rest, getting lost in his world like many times before. His stomach churned, rejecting the food he had just swallowed, he didn't deserve it. His own mother had forgotten about him, and worse of all, she was happy. That's how little he mattered, his absence didn't change anything at all, and maybe that was why he was so easily replaced. No– he couldn't let that happen, he needed to remind her, he needed to make her understand.

"You are my mom, you are… you used to…"

He was truly a horrible son. Did he even know anything about his mother? About this woman seated in front of him? Did he ever try to understand his parents, or in that case, anyone at all?

Maybe it was better if he was forgotten, he was an ungrateful son that would only amount to disappointment. He left them, he was a shut-in that one day went out the door and disappeared, leaving his parents to deal with the aftermath of his failures. Maybe it was better for him as well. He wasn't the son of Natsuki Kenichi, no one remembers him as such. There were no expectations forced upon him, expectations that he knew he would never achieve.

Was he selfish? Selfish for wanting others to remember him even if that would lead to their suffering? Or was he selfish for wanting others to forget about him, depriving them of their memories for his benefit?

Even being remembered felt like a theft now. Another way to feed off people. Another mouth to devour their love. He was nothing but a slothful parasite who wanted everything handed to them. Yet, he deserved happiness. And if feeding off others was selfish—

Then he would be selfish.

He didn't want to die, not again.

"I guess I'm getting old. Funny, right?" Naoko concluded with a smile

Subaru stared at her, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. His whole body was shaking.

"You're joking," he whispered. "You're… this is a joke, right? You remember me. You have to remember me."

her expression softened, brows furrowing with worry. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Stop saying that!" Subaru snapped, slamming his hands on the table. The dishes clinked violently.

She flinched. Subaru's already mean eyes had become sharp, sending waves of pure rage at her.

"You're my mom!" he barked, rising to his feet. "You took care of me when I was sick! You used to hum when you were washing dishes! You went to all my school events!"

"I—wait, please—"

"You told me that it doesn't matter how it started or what happens in the middle! It's how it ends!" His voice cracked, loud and raw. "You said that! You said that!"

Her hands hovered in the air like she didn't know whether to reach for him or protect herself from the monster in front of her.

Subaru was too far gone.

"You're supposed to remember me!" he shouted, knocking the tray off the table. The bowl shattered. Soup spilled across the floor like blood. "You're supposed to be the one person who never forgets!"

She gasped, stepping back instinctively.

"I died for this! Again and again and again!" His hands slammed against the table, cracking it "So why?! Why is this my end?! No–When will it ever end?! My life has been nothing but a cruel joke!"

"Why–Why do I feel so cheated!" A final slam

Subaru's voice cracked entirely. He clutched at his hair, sinking to his knees among the broken dishes.

"I'm so tired," he sobbed. "I just wanted to rest. Is that too much to ask?"

Silence filled the room

He expected her to scream, cry, or maybe leave the room to call the cops. Anyone else would've, any sane person at least.

But she didn't.

Instead, he felt arms wrap around him into a warm, firm, and gentle embrace.

A mother's embrace.

"No—" he gasped, stiffening immediately. His body went rigid, his heart hammering wildly against his chest like a trapped animal "Don't—don't touch me—"

Images surged through his mind, reminding his body of the grim reality. Fire, chains, drugs, beatings, and– Hands, those that only sought to hurt him, to devour him whole, to taint him until he was but a piece of meat, a toy to satisfy their carnal desires.

'Do it again, and I'll rip your nails out one by one.'

He shrieked, nearly clawing at her, but she didn't let go.

"It's okay," she whispered into his ear, her voice trembling. "It's okay. I don't understand yet, but I know you're hurting. And I'm here."

Disgust, that's what he felt. Here his mom was hugging him, comforting him, and how did he repay her? By imagining such disgusting scenarios in his head, by wanting to escape from the embrace that showered him with love and misery. He was the worst son a mother could ask for. Truly ungrateful until the end.

He sobbed harder, his breath hitching painfully, like each inhale scraped his throat raw. "I don't deserve this. You shouldn't be this kind to someone like me. I–" he stopped as he felt trembles that weren't his own. Tears soaking into his iconic track suit.

"You really are too kind… Mom"

Her arms were tight around him, trembling but strong, like they might hold his broken soul together if she just refused to let go.

But this cruel world didn't agree.

There was a crack.

Not a sound so much as a sensation, a jagged pressure in the air, like glass flexing under some weight. Subaru's breath caught in his throat. The fluorescent lights above flickered once, then again, stuttering into a seizure of white noise. Then it flickered a third time, consuming everything into white.

When the world came back, it was wrong.

His mother was gone.

Now replaced by a sight he knew too well, his room. Everything was right as he left it, not that he would know any difference. It was dark, the forever-closed green curtains blocking all golden rays. The calendar hung on the wall, forever frozen in the wrong month. A hoodie he hadn't worn since junior year was folded neatly over the desk chair. Anime figurines, particularly those of silver-haired girls, adorned every surface. Posters of said silver-haired girls were hung on the wall, staring at him. A clock kept ticking, counting the hours, the minutes, the seconds, always moving forward.

Looking around he saw his bed, it looked comfortable, welcoming, freshly made. That was wrong, he didn't make his bed when he left. Still, he walked towards it feeling the soft fabric brush against his skin. Unbelievably soft, much softer than anything he ever felt in that putrid cell.

His legs moved without command. The fabric kissed his skin as he sat down, then reclined, feeling it swallow him gently. He sank in, back hitting the mattress. Too soft. Too perfect. He hated how comforting it felt.

His eyelids flickered, attempting to close before being forced open by pure willpower. He wanted to rest, but he could never rest. What would happen the next time he closes his eyes? Would it all be gone? Would he be back in that hellish prison of his own making–No, that one would always follow him.

"Subaru…" An angelic voice filled the room, the sound of bells

His eyes widened in surprise, jumping out of the bed to look at Emilia–No Satella

Her presence was like oil pooling in his lungs.

"Why?" His voice cracked, quieter than a whisper. "Why didn't you take it away?"

The silence thickened. Her eyes stayed on him looking too kind, too sorrowful.

"Why leave me with it? Why keep sending me back—just to suffer again?"

Still nothing. But the air was heavy now, pressing in around him like the cell walls had.

He laughed. It was a horrible sound "Did you enjoy it? Watching me rot? Watching me scream and beg and—what? Just wait to see when I break?"

Her presence was crushing, but he didn't flinch "You could've stopped it," he said. "You could've taken it all away. Let me die. Let me stay dead. But no—you wanted me to keep going. Crawl forward. Drag myself through hell. For what?"

He took a step toward her.

She didn't move.

"Did you think that I would get stronger? Did you think that I would become someone worth loving?"

Her voice finally came in the form of a whisper, fragile

"That power not mine to take… I-I'm sorry"

"Why? Just why did you give me this power?" His voice fell to a whisper "Why are you so obsessed with me?"

Her answer was too soft. "Because… you saved me."

"I don't remember," he said coldly. "So it wasn't me. The one who saved you doesn't exist anymore. I don't remember and I never will. There was no debt for you to pay"

He stepped back. "So if there's a way to die—really die—tell me."

"No!" she cried, voice cracking. "You can't give up on life! You promised! You promised that you would put yourself first! That you would love yourself—!"

"You want me to love myself?" Subaru spat, voice thick with venom.

"I'm already rotten!" he spat, clawing at his own chest. "There's nothing left to fix! You want me to love myself?! There's no self to love!"

His breathing grew ragged and wild.

"There's no end in sight. I'll keep rotting in that cell until I reach an infinite loop!"

His voice lowered

"Even if one day they remembered me… it wouldn't change anything. Nothing will ever be the same."

"They'd look at me with pity in their eyes…"

He gritted his teeth. "They wouldn't love me. They'd love the memory of me. The Subaru they think they knew."

"And I-–I would also not see them as anything besides that. I have forgotten everything, the only memories left inside this husk have been altered into something completely different"

"All I could do in that cell was think. And so I thought of my happiest memories, seeking their comfort. Forgetting them and remembering them how I wanted to see them"

"They're not real anymore," he whispered. "Just fake fantasies made from desperation."

"I have died countless times, my life has become cheaper than the agonizing second I exchange it for"

He looked up at her, eyes hollow.

"In truth… Natsuki Subaru has only died twice. Once when the world forgot him. And once when he forgot himself."

His hands dropped to his sides, limp.

"Natsuki Subaru is already gone. So why can't you let me erase what's left?"

Her mouth moved, but no sound came.

Did Natsuki Subaru ever exist? Ever since he was a child he always strived to be something he could never be, his father. He acted how he believed his father would act, he strived to make everyone laugh even if he could not. It was all a performance, a mask, one so good that it stayed glued to his face. He wanted others to love him for himself even though he never showed his true self to others.

Contradictions

He wanted others to love the true Natsuki Subaru but he didn't want to be Natsuki Subaru, because he was disgusting. They repulsed him, every single one of them. The him that lived inside Rem's heart, the one that lived inside Emilia's heart, the one that lived in his parent's hearts, the one that lived inside himself, the one that he used to be, the one that he could have been. He hated them all.

"I was a hypocrite," he continued. "Echidna was right. Love is just using each other. The only reason anyone ever loved me was because I did something for them."

People only love others for the memories and emotions they can offer them. If he had behaved arrogantly and only brought them suffering, they would never have loved him. He only loved Emilia for the comfort she gave him. It didn't have to be her, it could have been anyone else, he was just desperate.

"If I never saved them would they have ever looked my way? Did my worth only come from the value I could bring them? For the happy memories I gave them?" He chuckled bitterly.

"Hell, I was doing the same. The only reason I stuck with them was because I also benefitted" "I believed I was a hero, only saving them out of self-satisfaction. I wanted a connection, someone to care for me even if just a little."

Is every human action selfish? Even when someone does something selfless like donating to the poor, they get something out of it, they get self-satisfaction. All our actions are guided by pure self-interest. Would anyone do something even if it hurts them? After all, he self-harms all the time. No, he believes he must do it, he thinks doing that would be a way to atone for his sins. It's a self-fulfillment action, truly selfish. If he killed someone and believed it was for their good, that action would have been selfless in his eyes. If he killed himself for the sake of others then he just decided it was worth it, so it would be selfish. Our actions are judged by others based on their morality, if we benefit someone else then it's selfless, if it benefits us then it's selfish. But either way, we are all selfish.

He paused.

"And I got it. It was my fault, I was the one who offered his life for meager scraps of attention. And to the previous me, it was worth it, an equal exchange"

He finally realized it. Sacrificing yourself for others doesn't show how much you love them, it just shows how much you don't love yourself.

He took a deep breath "If my name had never been eaten, I would've kept going. Bigger feats. More absurd victories. Just to prove I was needed."

"But eventually… I'd run out of things to do. There would be nothing for me to top."

He looked her in the eyes.

"And it would've been the same as when I was a kid."

He took one final breath

"I'm so tired Satella… I'm just so tired of everything"

The room was silent. Too silent. Even the soft hum of the wind seemed to die out, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, he felt it.

A sharp, pulsing ache bloomed in his chest. It was dull at first, like pressure building behind a dam. He staggered, a hand flying up to clutch his heart.

"Ngh—what…?"

It was the same pain. That same horrid tightness from when he first woke from the Castle of Dreams. The same phantom grip wrapping around his lungs, choking out his breath.

"No," he gasped, voice trembling. "Not now—not again—"

Satella appeared before him, face stricken with sorrow, her voice broken.

"We don't have much time," she whispered.

His eyes went wide. The realization hit like a flood of ice.

"No—no no no no no!" His hands trembled as he backed away. "Don't take me! Don't pull me back! I just got out!"

A glowing light appears on his hand, sharpening into a blade of pure white. It felt hot to the touch, a feeling he was familiar with. Petra's handkerchief.

"Don't you dare—don't you dare rip this away from me," he snarled, tears burning down his face. "This is mine! My ending!"

He raised the blade with shaking hands. Satella screamed his name.

"Subaru—please!"

And he plunged it into his chest.

He made a choice. It wasn't for the sake of others or anything admirable, but it was a choice he made for himself. A choice he made as Natsuki Subaru

The pain was white-hot, blinding. His body spasmed as the blood bloomed out across his tracksuit, soaking the cheap fabric in warmth, tainting it crimson. His breath caught in his throat, lips parting with a wet, shuddering gasp.

Satella fell to her knees in front of him, her voice a wail of shattered porcelain.

"I didn't want this!" she cried, sobbing. "I never wanted this! I only wanted to give you a chance! I only wanted to keep you close!"

He coughed, blood splashing from his lips. And yet, through it, he smiled. A strange peace on his face. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes… he wasn't afraid. He looked at Satellas face and it filled him with pity. Her face was dripping away with tears, he made her cry. Yet, he didn't regret it.

"I forgive you," he said, voice barely a whisper, barely audible.

And slowly, with trembling limbs and blood trailing behind him, Subaru stood. He swayed unsteadily but he stood.

He walked past her. Not looking back.

Each step left a smear of red on the floor. The further he got the more the chains rattle. Images of an 11-year-old Subaru, a Subaru with a tracksuit, and a Subaru that looked like a skeleton, all followed behind him, all mixing into one. The chains snapped, and he was finally free.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, slow and uneven. It slowed down further, then the sound of a ticking clock joined it—tick… tick… tick…

He reached the door.

His hand grasped the handle.

Tick…

He opened it.

Beyond lay only white.

As he stepped through, the world cracked behind him—his wound splitting wider, his ribs grinding against the blade lodged in his chest.

Tick… tick… tock…

The sound of his heart slowed.

The ticking of the clock began to outpace it.

Tick… tock… tick… tock…

He was losing the race.

And for once… he was okay with that.

Because this was a race he wanted to lose.

He finally left his room, this time sure of what he wanted.

The door closed behind him with a quiet click.

And the clock ticked on.

The world shattered into white fragments, cracking until it was nothing more than powder. A tree Blossom shed a beautiful pink flower. It slowly made its way to the ground, shriveling up and drying. It hit, turning into ashes, showcasing the beauty between life and death.

The boy who died countless deaths finally claimed one that was his

He didn't win. He didn't lose. He just… let go