Transcendency: Chapter 17
Title: Transcendency
Pairing: OT5, Matsumiya
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark Fantasy
Disclaimer: Plot is mine, Arashi is not. Unfortunately.
Summary: Down the rabbit hole they fell.
Author's Note: Poor Nino. I almost feel like 'angst' isn't a strong enough genre tag for this story.
Nino gazed around at the open space of their hotel rooftop. Nothing was out of the ordinary from what he was used to viewing up there. He could see the silhouetted greenery from beneath the tarp of their greenhouse and hear the soft and constant hum from their generator. Everything looked as it should, and yet for the life of him he could not recall his reason for coming up there. He stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell and wandered out into the open moonlight. As the silver light bathed his figure, his shadow was cast on the ground ahead of him. It stretched out towards their creations like a beacon guiding him to where he was meant to go. He followed its lead, moving with silent steps towards the generator.
When he neared the middle of the roof, his shadow gave a tremble and he halted, his eyes widening as he watched the intangible blackness take on a life of its own. It warped and split, forming four identical silhouettes that walked alongside his own now shadowless form. Nino spun around, seeking their source, only to discover he was still alone. With disappointment in his heart, he looked back at the ground. Every step he took seemed to birth greater to detail to the shadows at his side. He could make out the specific heights of each one, their slim figures iconic in his mind. Although their faces were solid black, without a trace of features to distinguish them, it mattered not to Nino. A smile graced his lips when he came to recognise exactly who the shadows belonged to even without being able to see their faces. Those slopped shoulders; those shapely hips; those lithe limbs-he would know them anywhere. Even if it ached that he couldn’t see their actual forms, having some small part of them with him again was more than enough to make his heart soar.
He crouched down and stretched his hand towards them. All four silhouettes mimicked him, reaching their arms out to him in turn. The shadows of their hands overlapped. For a fleeting moment, Nino could feel the warmth of their palms on top of his. He blinked and their forms became known to him. They weren’t quite complete. Their bodies were transparent; part of Aiba’s knee was missing and the top portion of Ohno’s head was slightly distorted, but they were there. He could see them grinning back at him, together as five once more. Nino’s smile widened, pure happiness consuming him.
Then a familiar and gut-wrenching noise sounded from above. The sound rocked Nino to his core, ripping every last shred of joy and hope from him.
“N-No,” he stammered. “Not again!”
He had half a second to realise what was about to happen before he watched, helpless to stop it. The forms of his friends began to flicker and fade, like the dying filaments in a lightbulb. One by one, the lasers hit. Nino could feel its sharpness ricocheting in the air as they struck all around him. It was so intense, it nearly knocked him off his feet. His screams for it to stop were drowned out by the piercing sound of the consecutive lasers. Each shadow disintegrated the moment the red light made contact with it. Nino dove forward into Ohno’s silhouette, trying in vain to protect what remained of his friends. It was all for naught as the laser seemed to pierce right through him harmlessly, its destructive power solely impacting the elder’s shadow. The dark form cracked and splintered; moonlight seeped through the fractures, stitching together like a spider’s web against a dark night. The fragments of light swelled to chase away the last of the darkness until all four silhouettes were no more.
Left alone and without even a shadow of his own, Nino crumbled. His cries to be taken as well were left unanswered.
Nino woke up in a cold sweat like he’d done for countless mornings already. But today was different. As the realisation hit that he had no one left to comfort him, no one left to offer him the support he so direly needed, it was all he could do not to break down in tears. It was his own fault. His dreams had tried to warn him from the very beginning that he couldn’t protect his friends, but he’d let his arrogance blind him. He wanted so badly to believe he could keep them safe and now the reality of his failure was staring him right in the face. He was alone. Just like his dreams foretold, he’d lost every one of them. Only this time there would be no waking up. They weren’t coming back and that was real.
Nino lay listless on the damp grass, his vacant stare affixed on distant nothing. His skin was cold and numb. He couldn’t even feel the rain as it drizzled down from the endless grey above. As the droplets hit his face, they mixed with the salty beads already running down his cheeks. The rumbling of thunder echoed in his ears, though he hardly heard it. The only noise his brain could process was that of the laser strikes. It didn’t matter that they had ended hours ago-he could still hear them clearly.
He’d made it less than half of the way back through the park from his friends’ final resting place before collapsing and passing out. He couldn’t be sure if it was more out of physical or mental exhaustion; between his chronic lack of sleep and the emotional toll of all he’d lost, he wouldn’t be surprised either way. He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there even after regaining consciousness, though he was confident it was more than a couple of hours. When his legs caved in, he spent the first few minutes trying to get up. Then his efforts died. For a while, his legs continued to kick and twitch half-heartedly, but even those movements had since ceased. Even after waking from his most recent nightmare, he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He just lay there, praying that if he did so for long enough, the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
Without blinking, his stinging gaze moved slowly to the dreary horizon. If he could just hold out a few hours more, his misery would end. A few hours more and his visa would be done. The laser would strike him down, death would claim him at last and he would finally be reunited with his dear friends. He closed his eyes peacefully and prayed time would move fast.
“Ninomiya-kun?”
The sound of his name had him furrowing his brows, though it was not enough for him to open his eyes. At first, he was willing to ignore the call. He assumed it was just another one of his delusions trying to talk him out of killing himself. Even if in the back of his mind a voice of reason was telling him that his friends never referred to him so formally, least of all the hallucinated versions of them, he ignored that too.
But when he heard someone call his name again, clearer and closer this time, he began to doubt himself. The voice sounded much older and was somewhat husky. Opening his eyes, Nino soon realised why. He blinked through the haze of tears and rain and peered into the distance to make out the indistinct shapes in front of him. The person who’d called out to him was not a figment of his imagination as anticipated, rather someone real. An older gentleman was walking towards him holding an umbrella. Trailing close behind him were two teenage girls under a shared cover of their own. All three of them were staring at him curiously.
Without bothering to lift his head, Nino narrowed his eyes on the trio ahead of him. Familiarity was itching just beneath the surface of his recollection, though he couldn’t quite place its source.
“Ah, I thought that was you,” the man said warmly as he connected the dots Nino could not. He suddenly gasped and held out his umbrella to shelter the young man’s saturated body. “You must be freezing!” Seeing the latter’s lingering confusion, he clarified, “It’s us. From the Mannequin game, remember?”
Nino stared at them a little while longer. While his prompting triggered the correct memory, it still took him a minute to respond. It wasn’t just that he was trying to recall their names; he was trying to remember how to even speak what with how hoarse his throat was.
“Ueshima-san?” he rasped uncertainly.
Ueshima nodded, but concern filled his gaze as he stared at him. “Are you alright down there?”
Nino could tell that he wasn’t really asking-the fact that he was lying drenched in the rain in the middle of nowhere certainly removed any doubt the man may have had-but Nino gave a small and weary nod regardless. He tucked himself up a little tighter, hoping they would go away and leave him be. He was not so lucky.
“What are you doing out here on your own?” one of the girls asked, coming forward. When Nino shrugged, her curious gaze scanned their desolate surroundings. “Where are your friends?”
Nino sniffled. “Gone,” he replied vaguely.
The teens exchanged disbelieving glances. “All of them?”
Nino nodded and shut his eyes again. He could hear the murmurs sweeping through the group in front of him, their shock over his revelation making itself clear even without him seeing it on their faces.
“It can’t be,” Ueto murmured, holding her hand over her mouth.
“And now you’re all alone?” her friend asked solemnly.
“You can come with us, if you’d like,” Ueshima offered before Nino had the chance to confirm his solitude.
Nino shook his head without even trying to open his eyes. He didn’t want their pity. He could hear the whispers of their continued conversation despite them taking a few steps from where he was lying. None of them seemed concerned by the fact that he could quite obviously still hear them. But as awkward as it was to have them talk about him when he was right there, Nino continued his silence, clinging to whatever small hope he had that they would leave. If he had the strength, he would get up and walk away. Remaining where he was curled on the grass, he did what he could to block out their voices, though some of their conversation still managed to reach his ears.
“We can’t just leave him here,” Ueto argued.
“We can’t force him to come with us, Aya-chan.”
“But look at him. He’s clearly lost his will to go on. If we leave, he’ll die!”
“Is that true?” her friend demanded as she stared down at Nino. He could feel her unimpressed glare burning into him until the moment he opened his eyes to narrow slits and saw for himself the contempt in her expression. “Have you really given up?”
“So what if I have?” Nino muttered.
The girl scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. Don’t you have any pride?”
He refused to dignify her with a response and instead rolled onto his other side, choosing to ignore her until she and her companions left him alone. When he remained silent, she huffed in derision.
“You know, Sakurai-kun didn’t say much that didn’t make me want to strangle him but he did assure me of one thing,” she said, her tone sharp. “He said that we didn’t have to worry because you were on our team. He went on and on about how his amazing gamer friend never gives up until he achieves victory and that as long as you were there, everything would be okay.” She paused, her gaze searing into his back, and scoffed again. “So much for that.”
While she couldn’t see it from her vantage point, Nino’s face had contorted in painful nostalgia. His lips drew together, a tiny whimper escaping him in spite of his best efforts to keep it contained. Fresh tears streamed towards his ears at the memory of what his friends used to think of him. It only acted as a reminder that they were wrong to put so much trust in him.
“You may have lost your friends,” the teen went on, oblivious or otherwise indifferent to his heartache. “But are you really so weak that you’ll give up without even trying to fight?”
“Becky,” Ueto began but her friend cut her off when she turned to her.
“No. If you died, I would be devastated but I would also want revenge. I wouldn’t stop until I’d made the person responsible pay dearly.” There was a fiery passion behind every word spoken. She glanced back at Nino, her gaze stern with challenge. “Then and only then would I ever consider dying myself. At least that way I’d know my loved one wouldn’t have lost their life for nothing.”
Nino shut his eyes with an agonised wince. The last thing he wanted was to be told that by someone who couldn’t possibly understand his pain. She hadn’t experienced that kind of loss yet-she didn’t know the torment of losing everything, nor the guilt that came with being the one to survive. If she did, he was certain she would want to end it all too.
Becky clicked her tongue and sighed at his prolonged silence. “If you really want to die, be a man and do it yourself. Don’t be a coward and wait for the laser do it for you.”
Leaving her harsh words to resonate with him, she turned on her heel and stormed off. Ueto hesitated to go after her. Biting her lip, she glanced at Nino one last time.
“I’m really sorry for your loss,” she told him. “I hope you find peace.”
With that, she went scampering after her friend. Ueshima watched them leave before crouching beside Nino.
“Sorry about them,” he murmured. “Becky’s a bit of a spitfire, but her heart is in the right place. She’s the type that would do anything for those she cares about, much like you lot actually.” He looked thoughtful as he stared at the despondent young man in front of him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come with us? The company may do you good.”
Nino considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head again. As much as he knew Ueshima had a point in implying solitude would only do him more harm, he couldn’t do it. Surrounded by people or not, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was alone. All he wanted was to finally put an end to his misery-other people would only get in the way of that happening.
Ueshima furrowed his brows at his glum response. “Let me ask you something. That night…why did you help us?”
“It was a team game,” Nino croaked. “We had to work together.”
Ueshima shook his head. “No, there was more to it than that. When the game ended, you could have just walked away and went on with your lives, but you didn’t. You made sure we knew what to do to stay alive in this place.”
Nino fell to contemplative silence as he recalled the Mannequin game. It was true his motivation to team up with the other players stemmed from a fear that they wouldn’t complete the game in time otherwise, but there was no denying the other aspects behind their decision. Namely Aiba. His insistence on helping complete strangers was infuriating yet inspirational nonetheless. Getting to see each of his friends make a connection with their teammate that day-from genuine friends to allies to competition-driven rivals-had made them feel alive. It reminded them that they were still human, that they were still allowed to care for more than just themselves. And watching Ueshima and those girls forge a team of their own in the aftermath only confirmed the good deed they’d done. It was something that had stayed with Nino all this time.
“We were just as clueless in our first game,” he admitted. “But someone helped us-a total stranger who stood to gain nothing by telling us anything. But he did and we survived because of it.” Sighing, he confessed, “We wanted to do the right thing like he did for us.”
With a soft smile, Ueshima dipped his head. “You lot saved our lives and for that, we’ll always be grateful.” There was a small pause that sparked curiosity in Nino. The words that followed only furthered his sense of intrigue. “I’m not sure if you remember, but I swore to you that if we ever met again, I would return the favour.”
Nino blinked his eyes open and lifted his head a little to meet the older man’s gaze. There was his usual gentleness, but something else stirred in the dark depths of his eyes. Something fierce, something inspiring.
“You think you’ve lost everything, that your life no longer has meaning, but you’re wrong,” he said. “I wouldn’t be here-those girls wouldn’t be here-if not for you. As much as you’re hurting now, it will get better. You’re destined for great things, I’m sure of it. Your friends must have known it too. That’s why you’re still here. Remember, the memory of them lives and dies with you, so live for them. Make them proud. And then, when your time comes, die with dignity.”
He held Nino’s gaze as he let the weight of everything he just said sink in. Then he rose to his feet and padded away. As the cover of his umbrella vanished, Nino flinched when he felt the rain hit his cheekbones. It was the first time since collapsing that he truly noticed it was raining. He sat up, blinking several times as he wiped the icy droplets from his face. In doing so, the stains of his tear tracks were wiped away as well. He found himself staring after Ueshima. The older man stopped after only a few paces. He glanced back over his shoulder and smiled upon seeing Nino was now sitting up. He returned to the latter’s side momentarily. When the umbrella landed at Nino’s feet, he looked confusedly up at Ueshima.
“Get out of the rain,” he told him in an endearing tone. “You’ll catch more than a cold in this storm.”
Casting him another smile, he returned to the side of his two companions. Nino watched their retreating backs until they vanished into the distance. His gaze was drawn to the umbrella in front of him. For a few minutes, he didn’t move. He neither touched the umbrella nor lay back down. He just sat there in the rain, mulling over the profoundness of Ueshima’s gesture and his preceding comments. His desire to wait for his own demise had been dampened, as if the downpour had washed it away along with the evidence of his grief.
Dragging himself up off the grass, the sensation of the rain hitting his bare flesh disappeared as he stood beneath the cover of the gift given to him. His feet began to move before he realised. It was with slow, staggered steps that he made his way through the storm in the hopes of finding his way home.
---
Returning to the hotel filled Nino with a sense of absolute emptiness. As he padded through the doors, his steps seemed to echo in the vast barrenness surrounding him. A torrent of memories overwhelmed him everywhere he looked. He glanced at the sofa chairs where they’d spent their first night and pictured them gathered around, exhausted from the toils of their game at Tokyo Dome yet united just the same. He remembered their conversation back then and all the nonsensical theories they shared with each other about what this place could be. He saw the five of them passed out around the lobby, the spoils of their scavenging scattered on the table. Gazing over his shoulder, he imagined Aiba and Jun sleeping on each other’s shoulders by the window; Nino could still recall the encouraging words they’d spoken to one another that night.
Passing by the elevator, he flinched internally when he remembered the game that had destroyed them. Picturing his companions wearing those collars as they crowded into the lift, nervous tension hanging in the air as they awaited the rules of the challenge they had not wanted to be part of. He half expected the elevator doors to open again now and reveal the same collars that had threatened to take away his beloved friends.
He staggered on his feet when a new wave of mourning struck him suddenly. Like hitting a brick wall, a dizzy spell overcame him and he reached to grab a nearby pillar to steady himself before he lost his footing entirely. While his eyes remained dry, having no tears left to cry, his breathing was shallow and hitched. He dry-heaved, choking on the build-up of phlegm in his throat. His knees gave out and he slid to the floor, barely even trying to soften his fall.
As he lay on the ground, unable to find the strength to lift himself back to his feet, all his walls broke down. He only wished his dear friends were there to pick up the broken pieces of himself. He immediately regretted leaving the park. He longed to take back whatever weakness or strength had inspired him to haul himself back to that hotel rather than stay out in the rain. He thought he would be strong enough to handle being back and that surrounding himself with the memories of his friends would somehow bring him respite, but now he knew he was sorely mistaken. The pain was something he could bear no more.
“If you really want to die, be a man and do it yourself.” The words played over in his mind, taunting him like a challenge.
Lifting his shaky gaze, he stared at the stairwell entrance. He crawled his way over to it. He didn’t want to go on without them and with the reminders of all he’d lost poisoning the cherished memories he held so dear, he knew there was but one thing left for him to do to right this terrible wrong.
Upon reaching the seventh floor, he found himself hesitating. His first thought was to return to his room and grab the knife he still had hidden in his drawer. One cut and it would all be over with. In theory, it seemed like an easy way to end his agony, but he knew better. Past experience had assured him that killing himself by means of the blade was not such a simple feat. He could barely bring himself to make even a shallow cut previously and while his pain might be worse now than it was then, he doubted he would achieve the quick death he was seeking. It didn’t help having Ohno’s voice in his head, his pleading for Nino not to use the knife sending pangs coursing through his chest and making it impossible for him to step out of the stairwell.
So he pushed onwards up the stairs, working his way up level after level until finally he reached the door to the rooftop. He shivered when he felt the cold wind whipping against his body. The rain had eased a little, becoming more of a drizzle than an actual downpour. It soaked through his already damp clothes. Ignoring the ache in his heart as he was reminded of his nightmare, Nino refused to look down lest he see his shadow divide like it had done in his vision. His gaze drifted over the familiar scenery of the roof. The memories up here were no easier to deal with, he soon discovered. From the generator to the greenhouse, even the fairy light above him; there were so many cruel reminders of their success as a team. Together, they had been able to do anything. Together, they were happy.
He looked over at the railing and the cityscape on the horizon. He felt a surge of fortitude, his hands clenching by his side. Soon, they would be together again. He would make sure of that.
“Don’t do it, Kazu.”
The voice sounded before he could take even a step. Nino recoiled at the hated sound. He didn’t want to look back, already knowing what he would see if he did. His delusions weren’t doing anything to help ease his conscience or his pain. They were occurring more frequently than ever and with the five of them reunited in such a tortured fashion, he felt like he couldn’t escape.
Spying over his shoulder, he spotted the four familiar figures standing behind him. They were watching him with concerned looks, yet the warmth glowing in each of their gazes was unmistakable.
“Go away,” he growled at them, turning to look back at the edge of the roof.
“This isn’t what you want,” Aiba told him.
“Yes, it is,” Nino muttered.
“We know you better than you know yourself,” Sho replied. “You don’t really want to die.”
Wincing at how deep the accusation cut, Nino whipped around. His burning glare moved over each of their opaque forms. “I just want to join you, why can’t you understand that? I’m lonely!”
“You’re supposed to live for us,” said Ohno, his gaze soft with understanding as he looked to him.
“I can’t,” Nino whimpered. “It’s too painful.” He ran his hands through his hair, tearing at the roots in his desperation. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Ignoring the protests of his hallucinations, he stared at the railing. They couldn’t talk him out of it this time. He had to be with them again for real and he would not let his own imaginings get in the way of that. With a running start, he flung himself at the edge.
But while he had every intention of throwing himself over the side, his hands unconsciously flew out and grabbed the railing to bring his body to an abrupt halt. He tried again, only for his feet to collide with the side of the roof and force him to another stop. Leaning partway over the edge with the railing digging hard into his stomach, he stared down at the steep plummet to the concrete below. He tilted a little bit further. His head dipped past the threshold of the rooftop but it was not nearly enough to bring his lower body cascading over the side as well. He gritted his teeth and let out a haggard noise of frustration and defeat.
“Why can’t I just die?” he wailed.
“Because you want to live.”
Nino’s hands clenched the railing tighter when he heard Jun’s whisper. His legs gave out and he sunk to the ground. As he felt the four of them encroaching on him, their intangible arms reaching out as if to hug him, he lost total control. They weren’t his actual friends-they were but constructs of his own deluded imagining, visions brought on by guilt to fool him into feeling a little less lonely, and he was sick of it.
“Get away from me!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, swinging his arm out to claw at the empty air. “You’re not real. Just leave me alone!”
Seconds after the words left his mouth, he felt a distinct air of coldness sweep over him. He shivered and opened his eyes. The figments of his imagination were gone. He was alone, completely alone. He honestly wasn’t sure if they were keeping him sane or pushing him further towards insanity but no matter how much he hated his delusions, it always saddened him when he blinked and found them gone yet again. Now more than ever, he felt their absence. He immediately regretted his outburst and pleaded for them to show themselves again.
“No, wait! Come back,” he cried. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!”
He fell to his hands and knees where he’d seen them mere seconds ago, his voice breaking as he pleaded over again for them to come back to him. They didn’t.
“Please,” he whimpered. “I need you…”
His arms raised to hold himself, desperate to feel something real. He shut his eyes tight and waited for their presence to rematerialize, to comfort and give him strength the way he they always had previously. In his heart, he knew this time was different. He’d willed them to go and they’d done as he wished. The void inside of him grew immensely in their absence as he was left feeling completely and utterly isolated.
Sniffling loudly, he heaved himself up. He couldn’t bring himself to return to the railing, already knowing he didn’t have it in him to take his own life. He dragged his feet as he wearily forced himself back towards the stairwell. As he was walking, his gaze hardened into a glare when he looked to the generator. Its constant humming irritated him in a way it never had before, its very existence a callous reminder of how his priorities had changed. At the time of its construction, it had been a beacon of hope and possibilities. He would have done anything for the energy it provided, the thrill of what pleasures it could return to their lives immense. Hot showers, cold drinks, electricity for his games-all the simple enjoyments the generator had once promised them-they all meant absolutely nothing to him anymore. Now he only cared for those he’d built it with.
Picking up an iron rod from the pile of spare parts stacked at the back of the greenhouse, he approached the generator with steady steps. He couldn’t stand to look at it and all it represented any longer. With the nostalgic cheers of their triumph sounding in the back of his memory, he swung his arm above his head. Sparks went flying when he struck the device with all his might. Water exploded from the valves, drenching both the rooftop and Nino as he smashed the machinery to pieces. He didn’t care for the cold that soaked him to the bone. His chest heaved as he unleashed his full fury. He struck again and again, haggard yells ripping from his throat as he watched the destruction of all their hard work.
As he stood saturated among the wreckage, he felt nothing. Not sadness, not anger, not disappointment. There was only numbness in his heart. The rod dropped to the ground with a resounding clatter and he walked away in total silence.
Returning to the lower levels, Nino was at a loss for what to do. He couldn’t bring himself to die and he couldn’t bring himself to live. He was at a stalemate with himself. As he walked by the countless empty rooms on the seventh floor, he could practically hear the echoes of his friends’ laughter as he recalled the many evenings they spent gathered around their little stove, cooking dinner and enjoying the freedoms that this world offered them. The sound hit him like a blow to the chest and made him weak in the knees.
He stopped in the doorway of Ohno’s old room. His morose gaze moved across the emptiness of the interior and he slipped inside before he could stop himself. He drifted aimlessly through the room, running his hand over the cold sheets lining the bed. Recalling the night he spent there, curled in the platonic embrace of his last living friend, he felt a familiar tightness in his chest. He should have listened to Ohno; they should have split up for their last game; he should have voiced his half-baked solution and at least tried to save them both; he should have fought fair like they’d agreed, even if it meant dying. Slumping down on the bed, he cradled his head in his hands, his whispered apology muffling through the skin of his palms.
Spotting the sketchbook lying on the bedside table, Nino couldn’t help feeling curious. So many times he’d seen Ohno absorbed in his drawings-drawings he was oddly opposed about letting anyone else see. It struck Nino as bizarre considering the elder had never demonstrated any aversion to letting them see his artworks in the past. Unable to help himself, Nino reached for the book. The first few pages were mostly landscapes of locations they’d previously visited. Tokyo Dome before its destruction, the streetscape around Hankyu, the jellyfish panorama, the tranquil hills surrounding the ryokan’s onsen. All were drawn with detail and precision. While there was a slight pang of dread that came with the memory of all that had taken place in those locations, there was no denying the sense of calm that spilled forth from the pages. It was a beauty he had not been able to appreciate at the time of the games. But seeing those places again through the perspective of his friend’s creativity, his feelings of melancholy were all but forgotten as he was reminded of just how inspiring the locations truly were.
Flipping the page, Nino’s heart fluttered at what he saw next. The image staring back at him was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. Suddenly, the reason why Ohno never let them look at his drawings made perfect sense. His complexion paled when he stared at the face gazing up at him on the adjacent page. Every little detail, from the thickness of his brows to his slightly crooked smile and the moles dotted above and below his lips, were drawn to familiar perfection. It was absolutely suffocating to look at.
“J,” Nino whispered, his other hand reflexively reaching to stroke the puzzle hanging from the chain around his neck.
The next few pages weren’t any easier to handle. The newest drawings etched across the white paper had him swallowing hard, and yet he was incapable of tearing his gaze away from the stunning artworks. It was like looking at real photographs. He could practically see the optimistic light shining in Aiba’s face, his beaming grin as radiant as it ever was in person. Sho’s sketch was as warm as it was handsome. Though drawn accurately with his earring and neck-length hair, there was a stark contrast to his yankee exterior as his portrait depicted nothing but tenderness. Gazing at him, Nino was not reminded of their hot-headed arguments or his friend’s sometimes rebellious nature, but rather felt cosseted as he stared into those kindly eyes.
Turning the page, Nino wasn’t sure what to prepare for. He half expected to see a blank canvass. He wasn’t convinced Ohno knew his own demise would come next, especially with how adamant he’d been about wanting to live. So when he saw a drawing of the five of them, Nino stifled a whimper. It was like looking at a snapshot of the night they had their first success with their generator. He and his friends were gathered together on what appeared to be their rooftop. Smiling from ear to ear beneath a string of fairy lights, the glasses each of them were holding were connected at the very centre of their circle as they gave cheers. It was a celebration not of their achievements or their hard work, but of their very freedom. Looking at them the way they used to be made Nino yearn to forget everything that happened these last few weeks. What he wouldn’t give to take it all back and return to how they were in that moment on the page.
Next to the illustration was a single word: Live.
“Live for us,” Ohno’s final words echoed in his mind, bringing with it a single, silent tear that trickled down Nino’s cheek.
He wasn’t sure whether to be upset or grateful for the surge of emotion he felt upon seeing the drawings. It drowned the numbness that had overcome his body, reigniting a powerful agony within him. But as much as it hurt, it reminded him that he was still alive, that he still cared.
Shutting the cover, his bangs fell to shadow his eyes as his head sank to his chest. He took a couple of deep breaths to gather what little composure he could muster. Then he rose to his feet. Tucking the sketchbook under his arm, he left the room and made his way to Aiba’s across the hall. He ducked inside and grabbed his friend’s running bag from where it was sitting near the foot of the bed. Nino checked the water bottle, sneakers and spare shirt that were already inside before slipping the drawing book in the main compartment as well. He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved on to his own room. He rummaged through his belongings, collecting a few necessities and the bare minimum of keepsakes that he could carry. He opened up the drawers of his bedside table, grabbing both the photo from the karaoke bar and the knife. He tossed a few spare items of clothing into the bag as well as a couple of packets of dried ramen.
Moving onto Sho’s room, Nino first scoured the assortment of books his friend had accumulated. It felt a little bit like he was in a library rather than a hotel room, but it didn’t stop the half-hearted smile from forming on his lips. He still found it ironic how much Sho had embraced his scholarly roots since they arrived in this place and the impressive collection of reading material in his room was only proof of that. Taking one of the maps as well as the lighter survival guides for added measure, he walked over to Sho’s wardrobe. He pulled the grey parka from its hangar and brought it to his nose, inhaling the faded scent of his friend. Rather than throwing it in the bag, he slipped his arms through the sleeves and zipped it up to his clavicle. It was a little baggy on him but he didn’t mind. The feel of the material put him at ease and made him feel at home.
Jun’s room was last. Nino collected the cards from the bedside table first and foremost; despite the younger’s departure some time ago, Nino had continued to leave the cards in his room in keeping with his promise to not obsess. He hesitated when he saw the tape recorder sitting on the table next to the incomplete deck. He chewed his lip, his hand teetering closer to the device without actually touching it. He hadn’t been able to listen to it since the morning he discovered Jun was gone, knowing it would only rekindle those feelings of guilt. But as he stood before an unknown venture, he found himself doubting whether he could leave it behind.
He clicked the play button, shutting his eyes as he listened to the first part of the recording. Hearing Jun’s voice again was as pleasant as it was painful. He missed the sound of his voice dearly but as the words themselves reached his brain, Nino felt a familiar heartache. Stopping the tape after only a few seconds, he decided against bringing it. The mementos he was taking of his friends were meant to inspire him to live and give him the strength to avenge them so that, as Becky to eloquently put it, they would not have died for nothing.
Leaving the recorder untouched by the bed, he finished scavenging the last space for the few items left to bring. Nino instinctively knew there wasn’t much else to take from Jun’s room. Between the necklace he was already wearing and the flower puzzle that now hung from its centre, he felt like he already had all items of sentimental value in regard to the younger.
Having gathered all he desired, he zipped up the bag and headed down to the lobby. He moved with swift and confident steps as he made his way through the reception, pausing only to grab the umbrella Ueshima gave him. When he stepped outside, he saw that the storm appeared to be clearing. The rain had stopped and while the dark clouds were lingering, a sliver of pale light could be glimpsed through the gloom on the horizon.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the place he’d called home for the last fifty-something days, Nino felt a bittersweet tug at his heartstrings. Deep down, he knew he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t stay there anymore. The memories were too much to handle and if he couldn’t die like he wanted surrounded by the reminders of them, then he would force himself to leave before he lost what little sanity he still had.
“I’ll make you guys proud,” he promised.
Turning back to face the horizon, his expression hardened in resolve. He stepped out into the street, his fists tightening around the strap of his bag as he strode into the unknown. A fire ignited in his gaze. It burned with a mix of passion and fury even as he spoke to the city ahead of him.
“You’ve taken everything from me, game master. Now I’m coming for you. Game on.”
Pairing: OT5, Matsumiya
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark Fantasy
Disclaimer: Plot is mine, Arashi is not. Unfortunately.
Summary: Down the rabbit hole they fell.
Author's Note: Poor Nino. I almost feel like 'angst' isn't a strong enough genre tag for this story.
Nino gazed around at the open space of their hotel rooftop. Nothing was out of the ordinary from what he was used to viewing up there. He could see the silhouetted greenery from beneath the tarp of their greenhouse and hear the soft and constant hum from their generator. Everything looked as it should, and yet for the life of him he could not recall his reason for coming up there. He stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell and wandered out into the open moonlight. As the silver light bathed his figure, his shadow was cast on the ground ahead of him. It stretched out towards their creations like a beacon guiding him to where he was meant to go. He followed its lead, moving with silent steps towards the generator.
When he neared the middle of the roof, his shadow gave a tremble and he halted, his eyes widening as he watched the intangible blackness take on a life of its own. It warped and split, forming four identical silhouettes that walked alongside his own now shadowless form. Nino spun around, seeking their source, only to discover he was still alone. With disappointment in his heart, he looked back at the ground. Every step he took seemed to birth greater to detail to the shadows at his side. He could make out the specific heights of each one, their slim figures iconic in his mind. Although their faces were solid black, without a trace of features to distinguish them, it mattered not to Nino. A smile graced his lips when he came to recognise exactly who the shadows belonged to even without being able to see their faces. Those slopped shoulders; those shapely hips; those lithe limbs-he would know them anywhere. Even if it ached that he couldn’t see their actual forms, having some small part of them with him again was more than enough to make his heart soar.
He crouched down and stretched his hand towards them. All four silhouettes mimicked him, reaching their arms out to him in turn. The shadows of their hands overlapped. For a fleeting moment, Nino could feel the warmth of their palms on top of his. He blinked and their forms became known to him. They weren’t quite complete. Their bodies were transparent; part of Aiba’s knee was missing and the top portion of Ohno’s head was slightly distorted, but they were there. He could see them grinning back at him, together as five once more. Nino’s smile widened, pure happiness consuming him.
Then a familiar and gut-wrenching noise sounded from above. The sound rocked Nino to his core, ripping every last shred of joy and hope from him.
“N-No,” he stammered. “Not again!”
He had half a second to realise what was about to happen before he watched, helpless to stop it. The forms of his friends began to flicker and fade, like the dying filaments in a lightbulb. One by one, the lasers hit. Nino could feel its sharpness ricocheting in the air as they struck all around him. It was so intense, it nearly knocked him off his feet. His screams for it to stop were drowned out by the piercing sound of the consecutive lasers. Each shadow disintegrated the moment the red light made contact with it. Nino dove forward into Ohno’s silhouette, trying in vain to protect what remained of his friends. It was all for naught as the laser seemed to pierce right through him harmlessly, its destructive power solely impacting the elder’s shadow. The dark form cracked and splintered; moonlight seeped through the fractures, stitching together like a spider’s web against a dark night. The fragments of light swelled to chase away the last of the darkness until all four silhouettes were no more.
Left alone and without even a shadow of his own, Nino crumbled. His cries to be taken as well were left unanswered.
Nino woke up in a cold sweat like he’d done for countless mornings already. But today was different. As the realisation hit that he had no one left to comfort him, no one left to offer him the support he so direly needed, it was all he could do not to break down in tears. It was his own fault. His dreams had tried to warn him from the very beginning that he couldn’t protect his friends, but he’d let his arrogance blind him. He wanted so badly to believe he could keep them safe and now the reality of his failure was staring him right in the face. He was alone. Just like his dreams foretold, he’d lost every one of them. Only this time there would be no waking up. They weren’t coming back and that was real.
Nino lay listless on the damp grass, his vacant stare affixed on distant nothing. His skin was cold and numb. He couldn’t even feel the rain as it drizzled down from the endless grey above. As the droplets hit his face, they mixed with the salty beads already running down his cheeks. The rumbling of thunder echoed in his ears, though he hardly heard it. The only noise his brain could process was that of the laser strikes. It didn’t matter that they had ended hours ago-he could still hear them clearly.
He’d made it less than half of the way back through the park from his friends’ final resting place before collapsing and passing out. He couldn’t be sure if it was more out of physical or mental exhaustion; between his chronic lack of sleep and the emotional toll of all he’d lost, he wouldn’t be surprised either way. He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there even after regaining consciousness, though he was confident it was more than a couple of hours. When his legs caved in, he spent the first few minutes trying to get up. Then his efforts died. For a while, his legs continued to kick and twitch half-heartedly, but even those movements had since ceased. Even after waking from his most recent nightmare, he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He just lay there, praying that if he did so for long enough, the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
Without blinking, his stinging gaze moved slowly to the dreary horizon. If he could just hold out a few hours more, his misery would end. A few hours more and his visa would be done. The laser would strike him down, death would claim him at last and he would finally be reunited with his dear friends. He closed his eyes peacefully and prayed time would move fast.
“Ninomiya-kun?”
The sound of his name had him furrowing his brows, though it was not enough for him to open his eyes. At first, he was willing to ignore the call. He assumed it was just another one of his delusions trying to talk him out of killing himself. Even if in the back of his mind a voice of reason was telling him that his friends never referred to him so formally, least of all the hallucinated versions of them, he ignored that too.
But when he heard someone call his name again, clearer and closer this time, he began to doubt himself. The voice sounded much older and was somewhat husky. Opening his eyes, Nino soon realised why. He blinked through the haze of tears and rain and peered into the distance to make out the indistinct shapes in front of him. The person who’d called out to him was not a figment of his imagination as anticipated, rather someone real. An older gentleman was walking towards him holding an umbrella. Trailing close behind him were two teenage girls under a shared cover of their own. All three of them were staring at him curiously.
Without bothering to lift his head, Nino narrowed his eyes on the trio ahead of him. Familiarity was itching just beneath the surface of his recollection, though he couldn’t quite place its source.
“Ah, I thought that was you,” the man said warmly as he connected the dots Nino could not. He suddenly gasped and held out his umbrella to shelter the young man’s saturated body. “You must be freezing!” Seeing the latter’s lingering confusion, he clarified, “It’s us. From the Mannequin game, remember?”
Nino stared at them a little while longer. While his prompting triggered the correct memory, it still took him a minute to respond. It wasn’t just that he was trying to recall their names; he was trying to remember how to even speak what with how hoarse his throat was.
“Ueshima-san?” he rasped uncertainly.
Ueshima nodded, but concern filled his gaze as he stared at him. “Are you alright down there?”
Nino could tell that he wasn’t really asking-the fact that he was lying drenched in the rain in the middle of nowhere certainly removed any doubt the man may have had-but Nino gave a small and weary nod regardless. He tucked himself up a little tighter, hoping they would go away and leave him be. He was not so lucky.
“What are you doing out here on your own?” one of the girls asked, coming forward. When Nino shrugged, her curious gaze scanned their desolate surroundings. “Where are your friends?”
Nino sniffled. “Gone,” he replied vaguely.
The teens exchanged disbelieving glances. “All of them?”
Nino nodded and shut his eyes again. He could hear the murmurs sweeping through the group in front of him, their shock over his revelation making itself clear even without him seeing it on their faces.
“It can’t be,” Ueto murmured, holding her hand over her mouth.
“And now you’re all alone?” her friend asked solemnly.
“You can come with us, if you’d like,” Ueshima offered before Nino had the chance to confirm his solitude.
Nino shook his head without even trying to open his eyes. He didn’t want their pity. He could hear the whispers of their continued conversation despite them taking a few steps from where he was lying. None of them seemed concerned by the fact that he could quite obviously still hear them. But as awkward as it was to have them talk about him when he was right there, Nino continued his silence, clinging to whatever small hope he had that they would leave. If he had the strength, he would get up and walk away. Remaining where he was curled on the grass, he did what he could to block out their voices, though some of their conversation still managed to reach his ears.
“We can’t just leave him here,” Ueto argued.
“We can’t force him to come with us, Aya-chan.”
“But look at him. He’s clearly lost his will to go on. If we leave, he’ll die!”
“Is that true?” her friend demanded as she stared down at Nino. He could feel her unimpressed glare burning into him until the moment he opened his eyes to narrow slits and saw for himself the contempt in her expression. “Have you really given up?”
“So what if I have?” Nino muttered.
The girl scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. Don’t you have any pride?”
He refused to dignify her with a response and instead rolled onto his other side, choosing to ignore her until she and her companions left him alone. When he remained silent, she huffed in derision.
“You know, Sakurai-kun didn’t say much that didn’t make me want to strangle him but he did assure me of one thing,” she said, her tone sharp. “He said that we didn’t have to worry because you were on our team. He went on and on about how his amazing gamer friend never gives up until he achieves victory and that as long as you were there, everything would be okay.” She paused, her gaze searing into his back, and scoffed again. “So much for that.”
While she couldn’t see it from her vantage point, Nino’s face had contorted in painful nostalgia. His lips drew together, a tiny whimper escaping him in spite of his best efforts to keep it contained. Fresh tears streamed towards his ears at the memory of what his friends used to think of him. It only acted as a reminder that they were wrong to put so much trust in him.
“You may have lost your friends,” the teen went on, oblivious or otherwise indifferent to his heartache. “But are you really so weak that you’ll give up without even trying to fight?”
“Becky,” Ueto began but her friend cut her off when she turned to her.
“No. If you died, I would be devastated but I would also want revenge. I wouldn’t stop until I’d made the person responsible pay dearly.” There was a fiery passion behind every word spoken. She glanced back at Nino, her gaze stern with challenge. “Then and only then would I ever consider dying myself. At least that way I’d know my loved one wouldn’t have lost their life for nothing.”
Nino shut his eyes with an agonised wince. The last thing he wanted was to be told that by someone who couldn’t possibly understand his pain. She hadn’t experienced that kind of loss yet-she didn’t know the torment of losing everything, nor the guilt that came with being the one to survive. If she did, he was certain she would want to end it all too.
Becky clicked her tongue and sighed at his prolonged silence. “If you really want to die, be a man and do it yourself. Don’t be a coward and wait for the laser do it for you.”
Leaving her harsh words to resonate with him, she turned on her heel and stormed off. Ueto hesitated to go after her. Biting her lip, she glanced at Nino one last time.
“I’m really sorry for your loss,” she told him. “I hope you find peace.”
With that, she went scampering after her friend. Ueshima watched them leave before crouching beside Nino.
“Sorry about them,” he murmured. “Becky’s a bit of a spitfire, but her heart is in the right place. She’s the type that would do anything for those she cares about, much like you lot actually.” He looked thoughtful as he stared at the despondent young man in front of him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come with us? The company may do you good.”
Nino considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head again. As much as he knew Ueshima had a point in implying solitude would only do him more harm, he couldn’t do it. Surrounded by people or not, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was alone. All he wanted was to finally put an end to his misery-other people would only get in the way of that happening.
Ueshima furrowed his brows at his glum response. “Let me ask you something. That night…why did you help us?”
“It was a team game,” Nino croaked. “We had to work together.”
Ueshima shook his head. “No, there was more to it than that. When the game ended, you could have just walked away and went on with your lives, but you didn’t. You made sure we knew what to do to stay alive in this place.”
Nino fell to contemplative silence as he recalled the Mannequin game. It was true his motivation to team up with the other players stemmed from a fear that they wouldn’t complete the game in time otherwise, but there was no denying the other aspects behind their decision. Namely Aiba. His insistence on helping complete strangers was infuriating yet inspirational nonetheless. Getting to see each of his friends make a connection with their teammate that day-from genuine friends to allies to competition-driven rivals-had made them feel alive. It reminded them that they were still human, that they were still allowed to care for more than just themselves. And watching Ueshima and those girls forge a team of their own in the aftermath only confirmed the good deed they’d done. It was something that had stayed with Nino all this time.
“We were just as clueless in our first game,” he admitted. “But someone helped us-a total stranger who stood to gain nothing by telling us anything. But he did and we survived because of it.” Sighing, he confessed, “We wanted to do the right thing like he did for us.”
With a soft smile, Ueshima dipped his head. “You lot saved our lives and for that, we’ll always be grateful.” There was a small pause that sparked curiosity in Nino. The words that followed only furthered his sense of intrigue. “I’m not sure if you remember, but I swore to you that if we ever met again, I would return the favour.”
Nino blinked his eyes open and lifted his head a little to meet the older man’s gaze. There was his usual gentleness, but something else stirred in the dark depths of his eyes. Something fierce, something inspiring.
“You think you’ve lost everything, that your life no longer has meaning, but you’re wrong,” he said. “I wouldn’t be here-those girls wouldn’t be here-if not for you. As much as you’re hurting now, it will get better. You’re destined for great things, I’m sure of it. Your friends must have known it too. That’s why you’re still here. Remember, the memory of them lives and dies with you, so live for them. Make them proud. And then, when your time comes, die with dignity.”
He held Nino’s gaze as he let the weight of everything he just said sink in. Then he rose to his feet and padded away. As the cover of his umbrella vanished, Nino flinched when he felt the rain hit his cheekbones. It was the first time since collapsing that he truly noticed it was raining. He sat up, blinking several times as he wiped the icy droplets from his face. In doing so, the stains of his tear tracks were wiped away as well. He found himself staring after Ueshima. The older man stopped after only a few paces. He glanced back over his shoulder and smiled upon seeing Nino was now sitting up. He returned to the latter’s side momentarily. When the umbrella landed at Nino’s feet, he looked confusedly up at Ueshima.
“Get out of the rain,” he told him in an endearing tone. “You’ll catch more than a cold in this storm.”
Casting him another smile, he returned to the side of his two companions. Nino watched their retreating backs until they vanished into the distance. His gaze was drawn to the umbrella in front of him. For a few minutes, he didn’t move. He neither touched the umbrella nor lay back down. He just sat there in the rain, mulling over the profoundness of Ueshima’s gesture and his preceding comments. His desire to wait for his own demise had been dampened, as if the downpour had washed it away along with the evidence of his grief.
Dragging himself up off the grass, the sensation of the rain hitting his bare flesh disappeared as he stood beneath the cover of the gift given to him. His feet began to move before he realised. It was with slow, staggered steps that he made his way through the storm in the hopes of finding his way home.
---
Returning to the hotel filled Nino with a sense of absolute emptiness. As he padded through the doors, his steps seemed to echo in the vast barrenness surrounding him. A torrent of memories overwhelmed him everywhere he looked. He glanced at the sofa chairs where they’d spent their first night and pictured them gathered around, exhausted from the toils of their game at Tokyo Dome yet united just the same. He remembered their conversation back then and all the nonsensical theories they shared with each other about what this place could be. He saw the five of them passed out around the lobby, the spoils of their scavenging scattered on the table. Gazing over his shoulder, he imagined Aiba and Jun sleeping on each other’s shoulders by the window; Nino could still recall the encouraging words they’d spoken to one another that night.
Passing by the elevator, he flinched internally when he remembered the game that had destroyed them. Picturing his companions wearing those collars as they crowded into the lift, nervous tension hanging in the air as they awaited the rules of the challenge they had not wanted to be part of. He half expected the elevator doors to open again now and reveal the same collars that had threatened to take away his beloved friends.
He staggered on his feet when a new wave of mourning struck him suddenly. Like hitting a brick wall, a dizzy spell overcame him and he reached to grab a nearby pillar to steady himself before he lost his footing entirely. While his eyes remained dry, having no tears left to cry, his breathing was shallow and hitched. He dry-heaved, choking on the build-up of phlegm in his throat. His knees gave out and he slid to the floor, barely even trying to soften his fall.
As he lay on the ground, unable to find the strength to lift himself back to his feet, all his walls broke down. He only wished his dear friends were there to pick up the broken pieces of himself. He immediately regretted leaving the park. He longed to take back whatever weakness or strength had inspired him to haul himself back to that hotel rather than stay out in the rain. He thought he would be strong enough to handle being back and that surrounding himself with the memories of his friends would somehow bring him respite, but now he knew he was sorely mistaken. The pain was something he could bear no more.
“If you really want to die, be a man and do it yourself.” The words played over in his mind, taunting him like a challenge.
Lifting his shaky gaze, he stared at the stairwell entrance. He crawled his way over to it. He didn’t want to go on without them and with the reminders of all he’d lost poisoning the cherished memories he held so dear, he knew there was but one thing left for him to do to right this terrible wrong.
Upon reaching the seventh floor, he found himself hesitating. His first thought was to return to his room and grab the knife he still had hidden in his drawer. One cut and it would all be over with. In theory, it seemed like an easy way to end his agony, but he knew better. Past experience had assured him that killing himself by means of the blade was not such a simple feat. He could barely bring himself to make even a shallow cut previously and while his pain might be worse now than it was then, he doubted he would achieve the quick death he was seeking. It didn’t help having Ohno’s voice in his head, his pleading for Nino not to use the knife sending pangs coursing through his chest and making it impossible for him to step out of the stairwell.
So he pushed onwards up the stairs, working his way up level after level until finally he reached the door to the rooftop. He shivered when he felt the cold wind whipping against his body. The rain had eased a little, becoming more of a drizzle than an actual downpour. It soaked through his already damp clothes. Ignoring the ache in his heart as he was reminded of his nightmare, Nino refused to look down lest he see his shadow divide like it had done in his vision. His gaze drifted over the familiar scenery of the roof. The memories up here were no easier to deal with, he soon discovered. From the generator to the greenhouse, even the fairy light above him; there were so many cruel reminders of their success as a team. Together, they had been able to do anything. Together, they were happy.
He looked over at the railing and the cityscape on the horizon. He felt a surge of fortitude, his hands clenching by his side. Soon, they would be together again. He would make sure of that.
“Don’t do it, Kazu.”
The voice sounded before he could take even a step. Nino recoiled at the hated sound. He didn’t want to look back, already knowing what he would see if he did. His delusions weren’t doing anything to help ease his conscience or his pain. They were occurring more frequently than ever and with the five of them reunited in such a tortured fashion, he felt like he couldn’t escape.
Spying over his shoulder, he spotted the four familiar figures standing behind him. They were watching him with concerned looks, yet the warmth glowing in each of their gazes was unmistakable.
“Go away,” he growled at them, turning to look back at the edge of the roof.
“This isn’t what you want,” Aiba told him.
“Yes, it is,” Nino muttered.
“We know you better than you know yourself,” Sho replied. “You don’t really want to die.”
Wincing at how deep the accusation cut, Nino whipped around. His burning glare moved over each of their opaque forms. “I just want to join you, why can’t you understand that? I’m lonely!”
“You’re supposed to live for us,” said Ohno, his gaze soft with understanding as he looked to him.
“I can’t,” Nino whimpered. “It’s too painful.” He ran his hands through his hair, tearing at the roots in his desperation. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Ignoring the protests of his hallucinations, he stared at the railing. They couldn’t talk him out of it this time. He had to be with them again for real and he would not let his own imaginings get in the way of that. With a running start, he flung himself at the edge.
But while he had every intention of throwing himself over the side, his hands unconsciously flew out and grabbed the railing to bring his body to an abrupt halt. He tried again, only for his feet to collide with the side of the roof and force him to another stop. Leaning partway over the edge with the railing digging hard into his stomach, he stared down at the steep plummet to the concrete below. He tilted a little bit further. His head dipped past the threshold of the rooftop but it was not nearly enough to bring his lower body cascading over the side as well. He gritted his teeth and let out a haggard noise of frustration and defeat.
“Why can’t I just die?” he wailed.
“Because you want to live.”
Nino’s hands clenched the railing tighter when he heard Jun’s whisper. His legs gave out and he sunk to the ground. As he felt the four of them encroaching on him, their intangible arms reaching out as if to hug him, he lost total control. They weren’t his actual friends-they were but constructs of his own deluded imagining, visions brought on by guilt to fool him into feeling a little less lonely, and he was sick of it.
“Get away from me!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, swinging his arm out to claw at the empty air. “You’re not real. Just leave me alone!”
Seconds after the words left his mouth, he felt a distinct air of coldness sweep over him. He shivered and opened his eyes. The figments of his imagination were gone. He was alone, completely alone. He honestly wasn’t sure if they were keeping him sane or pushing him further towards insanity but no matter how much he hated his delusions, it always saddened him when he blinked and found them gone yet again. Now more than ever, he felt their absence. He immediately regretted his outburst and pleaded for them to show themselves again.
“No, wait! Come back,” he cried. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!”
He fell to his hands and knees where he’d seen them mere seconds ago, his voice breaking as he pleaded over again for them to come back to him. They didn’t.
“Please,” he whimpered. “I need you…”
His arms raised to hold himself, desperate to feel something real. He shut his eyes tight and waited for their presence to rematerialize, to comfort and give him strength the way he they always had previously. In his heart, he knew this time was different. He’d willed them to go and they’d done as he wished. The void inside of him grew immensely in their absence as he was left feeling completely and utterly isolated.
Sniffling loudly, he heaved himself up. He couldn’t bring himself to return to the railing, already knowing he didn’t have it in him to take his own life. He dragged his feet as he wearily forced himself back towards the stairwell. As he was walking, his gaze hardened into a glare when he looked to the generator. Its constant humming irritated him in a way it never had before, its very existence a callous reminder of how his priorities had changed. At the time of its construction, it had been a beacon of hope and possibilities. He would have done anything for the energy it provided, the thrill of what pleasures it could return to their lives immense. Hot showers, cold drinks, electricity for his games-all the simple enjoyments the generator had once promised them-they all meant absolutely nothing to him anymore. Now he only cared for those he’d built it with.
Picking up an iron rod from the pile of spare parts stacked at the back of the greenhouse, he approached the generator with steady steps. He couldn’t stand to look at it and all it represented any longer. With the nostalgic cheers of their triumph sounding in the back of his memory, he swung his arm above his head. Sparks went flying when he struck the device with all his might. Water exploded from the valves, drenching both the rooftop and Nino as he smashed the machinery to pieces. He didn’t care for the cold that soaked him to the bone. His chest heaved as he unleashed his full fury. He struck again and again, haggard yells ripping from his throat as he watched the destruction of all their hard work.
As he stood saturated among the wreckage, he felt nothing. Not sadness, not anger, not disappointment. There was only numbness in his heart. The rod dropped to the ground with a resounding clatter and he walked away in total silence.
Returning to the lower levels, Nino was at a loss for what to do. He couldn’t bring himself to die and he couldn’t bring himself to live. He was at a stalemate with himself. As he walked by the countless empty rooms on the seventh floor, he could practically hear the echoes of his friends’ laughter as he recalled the many evenings they spent gathered around their little stove, cooking dinner and enjoying the freedoms that this world offered them. The sound hit him like a blow to the chest and made him weak in the knees.
He stopped in the doorway of Ohno’s old room. His morose gaze moved across the emptiness of the interior and he slipped inside before he could stop himself. He drifted aimlessly through the room, running his hand over the cold sheets lining the bed. Recalling the night he spent there, curled in the platonic embrace of his last living friend, he felt a familiar tightness in his chest. He should have listened to Ohno; they should have split up for their last game; he should have voiced his half-baked solution and at least tried to save them both; he should have fought fair like they’d agreed, even if it meant dying. Slumping down on the bed, he cradled his head in his hands, his whispered apology muffling through the skin of his palms.
Spotting the sketchbook lying on the bedside table, Nino couldn’t help feeling curious. So many times he’d seen Ohno absorbed in his drawings-drawings he was oddly opposed about letting anyone else see. It struck Nino as bizarre considering the elder had never demonstrated any aversion to letting them see his artworks in the past. Unable to help himself, Nino reached for the book. The first few pages were mostly landscapes of locations they’d previously visited. Tokyo Dome before its destruction, the streetscape around Hankyu, the jellyfish panorama, the tranquil hills surrounding the ryokan’s onsen. All were drawn with detail and precision. While there was a slight pang of dread that came with the memory of all that had taken place in those locations, there was no denying the sense of calm that spilled forth from the pages. It was a beauty he had not been able to appreciate at the time of the games. But seeing those places again through the perspective of his friend’s creativity, his feelings of melancholy were all but forgotten as he was reminded of just how inspiring the locations truly were.
Flipping the page, Nino’s heart fluttered at what he saw next. The image staring back at him was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. Suddenly, the reason why Ohno never let them look at his drawings made perfect sense. His complexion paled when he stared at the face gazing up at him on the adjacent page. Every little detail, from the thickness of his brows to his slightly crooked smile and the moles dotted above and below his lips, were drawn to familiar perfection. It was absolutely suffocating to look at.
“J,” Nino whispered, his other hand reflexively reaching to stroke the puzzle hanging from the chain around his neck.
The next few pages weren’t any easier to handle. The newest drawings etched across the white paper had him swallowing hard, and yet he was incapable of tearing his gaze away from the stunning artworks. It was like looking at real photographs. He could practically see the optimistic light shining in Aiba’s face, his beaming grin as radiant as it ever was in person. Sho’s sketch was as warm as it was handsome. Though drawn accurately with his earring and neck-length hair, there was a stark contrast to his yankee exterior as his portrait depicted nothing but tenderness. Gazing at him, Nino was not reminded of their hot-headed arguments or his friend’s sometimes rebellious nature, but rather felt cosseted as he stared into those kindly eyes.
Turning the page, Nino wasn’t sure what to prepare for. He half expected to see a blank canvass. He wasn’t convinced Ohno knew his own demise would come next, especially with how adamant he’d been about wanting to live. So when he saw a drawing of the five of them, Nino stifled a whimper. It was like looking at a snapshot of the night they had their first success with their generator. He and his friends were gathered together on what appeared to be their rooftop. Smiling from ear to ear beneath a string of fairy lights, the glasses each of them were holding were connected at the very centre of their circle as they gave cheers. It was a celebration not of their achievements or their hard work, but of their very freedom. Looking at them the way they used to be made Nino yearn to forget everything that happened these last few weeks. What he wouldn’t give to take it all back and return to how they were in that moment on the page.
Next to the illustration was a single word: Live.
“Live for us,” Ohno’s final words echoed in his mind, bringing with it a single, silent tear that trickled down Nino’s cheek.
He wasn’t sure whether to be upset or grateful for the surge of emotion he felt upon seeing the drawings. It drowned the numbness that had overcome his body, reigniting a powerful agony within him. But as much as it hurt, it reminded him that he was still alive, that he still cared.
Shutting the cover, his bangs fell to shadow his eyes as his head sank to his chest. He took a couple of deep breaths to gather what little composure he could muster. Then he rose to his feet. Tucking the sketchbook under his arm, he left the room and made his way to Aiba’s across the hall. He ducked inside and grabbed his friend’s running bag from where it was sitting near the foot of the bed. Nino checked the water bottle, sneakers and spare shirt that were already inside before slipping the drawing book in the main compartment as well. He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved on to his own room. He rummaged through his belongings, collecting a few necessities and the bare minimum of keepsakes that he could carry. He opened up the drawers of his bedside table, grabbing both the photo from the karaoke bar and the knife. He tossed a few spare items of clothing into the bag as well as a couple of packets of dried ramen.
Moving onto Sho’s room, Nino first scoured the assortment of books his friend had accumulated. It felt a little bit like he was in a library rather than a hotel room, but it didn’t stop the half-hearted smile from forming on his lips. He still found it ironic how much Sho had embraced his scholarly roots since they arrived in this place and the impressive collection of reading material in his room was only proof of that. Taking one of the maps as well as the lighter survival guides for added measure, he walked over to Sho’s wardrobe. He pulled the grey parka from its hangar and brought it to his nose, inhaling the faded scent of his friend. Rather than throwing it in the bag, he slipped his arms through the sleeves and zipped it up to his clavicle. It was a little baggy on him but he didn’t mind. The feel of the material put him at ease and made him feel at home.
Jun’s room was last. Nino collected the cards from the bedside table first and foremost; despite the younger’s departure some time ago, Nino had continued to leave the cards in his room in keeping with his promise to not obsess. He hesitated when he saw the tape recorder sitting on the table next to the incomplete deck. He chewed his lip, his hand teetering closer to the device without actually touching it. He hadn’t been able to listen to it since the morning he discovered Jun was gone, knowing it would only rekindle those feelings of guilt. But as he stood before an unknown venture, he found himself doubting whether he could leave it behind.
He clicked the play button, shutting his eyes as he listened to the first part of the recording. Hearing Jun’s voice again was as pleasant as it was painful. He missed the sound of his voice dearly but as the words themselves reached his brain, Nino felt a familiar heartache. Stopping the tape after only a few seconds, he decided against bringing it. The mementos he was taking of his friends were meant to inspire him to live and give him the strength to avenge them so that, as Becky to eloquently put it, they would not have died for nothing.
Leaving the recorder untouched by the bed, he finished scavenging the last space for the few items left to bring. Nino instinctively knew there wasn’t much else to take from Jun’s room. Between the necklace he was already wearing and the flower puzzle that now hung from its centre, he felt like he already had all items of sentimental value in regard to the younger.
Having gathered all he desired, he zipped up the bag and headed down to the lobby. He moved with swift and confident steps as he made his way through the reception, pausing only to grab the umbrella Ueshima gave him. When he stepped outside, he saw that the storm appeared to be clearing. The rain had stopped and while the dark clouds were lingering, a sliver of pale light could be glimpsed through the gloom on the horizon.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the place he’d called home for the last fifty-something days, Nino felt a bittersweet tug at his heartstrings. Deep down, he knew he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t stay there anymore. The memories were too much to handle and if he couldn’t die like he wanted surrounded by the reminders of them, then he would force himself to leave before he lost what little sanity he still had.
“I’ll make you guys proud,” he promised.
Turning back to face the horizon, his expression hardened in resolve. He stepped out into the street, his fists tightening around the strap of his bag as he strode into the unknown. A fire ignited in his gaze. It burned with a mix of passion and fury even as he spoke to the city ahead of him.
“You’ve taken everything from me, game master. Now I’m coming for you. Game on.”