The silence in the dorm had transformed; it was no longer the sharp, agonizing kind that lingers in the aftermath of a gunshot. It had softened, settling into a profound and heavy silence—the kind that envelops a house in deep mourning.
Life, with its unwavering persistence, continued to unfold. Yukari continued to prepare breakfast, her movements steady and practiced, as the aroma of freshly cooked food began to fill the air.
Once again, Junpei found himself neglecting the simple task of doing his laundry, a small yet persistent reminder of the chaos that often enveloped his life.
Yet, the rhythm felt disjointed, akin to a melody that had lost a crucial pulse, leaving an emptiness that echoed in the silence.
Akihiko existed as the ethereal presence within our machine, a haunting reminder of what once was and what could never be again. He stepped out of his room, made his way to school, and even shared meals with us.
Yet, the fire had faded away. He navigated the world as if in a dream, his reactions languid and detached, as though he were drifting through a fog that blurred the edges of reality.
The vibrant, passionate energy that once emanated from him had gradually given way to a profound emptiness, a haunting stillness that lingered in the air.
The absence of his spirit was palpable, a chilling void that lingered in the room, and I didn't need my power to sense it. It was as if the air itself had grown heavy, a stark reminder of what once was.
A week had passed since the funeral when I stumbled upon Mitsuru in the command room. Her gaze was fixed on the personnel file before her—Shinjiro's—an enigmatic expression etched across her face, revealing nothing of the thoughts swirling within her mind.
"He wouldn't want this," I murmured softly, my back pressed against the doorframe, the weight of my words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.
She kept her gaze fixed downward, avoiding any chance of meeting the eyes of those around her. "What is it that you desire?"
"This." I made a sweeping gesture, taking in the entirety of the dorm, the heavy silence that hung in the air, and the palpable despair that clung to Akihiko like a shadow.
"The paralysis, He stood at a crossroads, weighing his options, and ultimately, he made a choice that would alter the course of his life forever. It was a choice laden with despair, a decision that weighed heavily on his heart, yet ultimately, it was his to make. Allowing it to obliterate the remainder of us... it disrespects that decision."
At long last, she raised her gaze, her crimson eyes heavy with fatigue. "What is it that you expect from us, Kaito? Shall we host a gathering? Act as if nothing ever occurred?"
"No," I said, my voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of emotion as I stepped into the room, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension.
"Nevertheless, we must persist in our commitment to embrace life fully."
"The desires of Strega, the longings of Takaya." To illustrate that life is fundamentally a passage marked by pain, leading us inevitably toward a final destination. We must demonstrate to him that he was mistaken."
I came to a halt right in front of her desk, the weight of the moment hanging in the air between us. "Our journey begins with the mission to bring him back."
Her brow knitted together in a deep furrow, a clear sign of her inner turmoil. "Akihiko? It is impossible to impose a timeline on someone's grief."
"I'm not suggesting that we should compel him to feel happiness."
"What I mean is that I want to remind him that he is not alone in this journey." Our gazes locked, and in that fleeting moment, the world around us faded away. "We must stand together, don't you remember?"
"This includes him, even if he is trying to break away from the formation."
A glimmer of comprehension danced across her features, quickly followed by a deep sense of determination that settled in her expression. With a gentle sigh, she closed the file, the soft sound echoing in the quiet room, a finality that lingered in the air.
"You're right," She stood tall, her posture aligning into that familiar, commanding silhouette that exuded strength and authority.
"Tonight, we embark on a mission. A modest operation under the light of the Full Moon. The Shadow may be weak, yet it represents a beginning, a flicker of hope in the vast darkness that surrounds us. We all eventually depart from this world. As a team."
As the evening descended and the green hue of the Dark Hour enveloped the city, we found ourselves standing in the entrance hall of the dorm, fully prepared for what lay ahead. Akihiko stood a little apart from the others, his Evoker resting in his hand with an air of unfamiliarity, as if it were an object from another world entirely.
"The target is a minor manifestation at the local train station," Mitsuru declared, her voice sharp and unwavering, slicing through the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded them. "An uncomplicated task of silencing."
"We infiltrate the area, carry out our mission to neutralize the target, and then make our strategic exit. Understand?"
Junpei and Yukari exchanged solemn nods, their faces reflecting a deep sense of gravity. Makoto offered his familiar, quiet nod of agreement.
Akihiko remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ground, as if the weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air between them.
"Akihiko," Mitsuru said, her voice firm and unwavering, a clear signal that there was no space for debate. "That was a command."
He recoiled slightly, as though abruptly pulled from the depths of a vivid dream, the remnants of its enchantment still clinging to him.
For a fleeting moment, his gaze locked onto hers, a spark of connection igniting between them, but then, as if weighed down by an invisible force, it fell away, leaving an unspoken tension hanging in the air. "...Yeah. Understood."
The mission was, as promised, straightforward and uncomplicated. The Shadow emerged as a pitiful, skittering entity, a manifestation of the collective unease stemming from missed trains and the relentless frustrations of everyday life. It posed no danger.
Yet, witnessing Akihiko engage in battle was a deeply agonizing experience. His movements, which had once been a blur of precise and powerful strikes, now felt sluggish and uncoordinated, as if the very essence of his skill had been drained away.
He moved through the day as if on autopilot, his heart and mind drifting far beyond the present moment, lost in a world of their own. Caesar emerged with a feeble presence, its lightning flickering uncertainly, lacking the strength and determination it once held.
With a surge of determination and unwavering trust in each other, Junpei and Yukari unleashed a powerful combined attack, finally bringing the Shadow to its knees. The battle concluded almost as swiftly as it had started.
As the group continued their journey home, Akihiko found himself trailing behind, lost in thought. I deliberately reduced my pace, allowing myself to walk alongside him, savoring the moment we shared in each other's company.
"It seems like you're holding back," I remarked, my tone gentle, not meant to blame but rather to share a realization.
He averted his gaze, as if the weight of unspoken words hung heavily between us. "What is the purpose of it all?"
"The point is that we remain here," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It is important to acknowledge that there are others who require our protection."
"Fuuka. Ken. Every single person in this city remains blissfully unaware of the existence of the Dark Hour. Your strength has always been your own, never solely for him."
"It was for this reason, this moment, that everything had led to this point." I waved my hand toward the slumbering city that enveloped us in its quiet embrace.
He remained quiet for what felt like an eternity, the only noise breaking the stillness being the soft crunch of our shoes against the frosted grass beneath us. "It doesn't feel like strength," he finally whispered, his voice heavy with unspoken doubts. "It feels as though... there is an absence of anything."
"I understand," I replied softly. "There are moments in life when the mere act of placing one foot in front of the other becomes the most powerful statement of resilience and strength you can make, and you don't have to do it alone."
As we continued our journey, an unspoken heaviness lingered between us, enveloping the air in a profound silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Yet, this silence felt distinctly different from the ones that had come before.
It was not merely the emptiness of his sorrow.
The silence enveloped them, a gentle and companionable stillness, as the first delicate strands of their connection began to weave together once more, slowly and with great care.
Upon returning to the dorm, as we began to remove our gear, Akihiko lingered for a moment, not rushing to retreat to his room.
He lingered for a moment in the common room, observing as Junpei and Yukari engaged in a playful exchange, their lighthearted banter revolving around the mission at hand.
It was a seemingly insignificant detail, a small thing that often went unnoticed in the grand tapestry of life. A subtle, nearly undetectable change. Yet, it marked the beginning of something new.
As the evening drew to a close and I prepared to settle into the comforting embrace of my bed, a gentle knock echoed softly against my door.
It was Mitsuru.
She remained silent. As she entered the room, she enveloped me in her embrace, resting her head gently against my chest. I embraced her closely, sensing the gentle, rhythmic pulse of her heart in sync with my own.
"He took a step tonight," she murmured softly. "Due to your presence."
"We all did," I said softly, gently running my fingers through her hair.
The canvas of our lives was indelibly stained by a harsh, uneven stroke of sorrow.
Yet, we were discovering that grief couldn't simply be painted over. You included it. You employed its dark pigments to infuse the brighter colors with greater depth and significance.
The journey stretched out before us, and the heaviness of Shinjiro's absence would linger in our hearts forever.
As I embraced Mitsuru in the stillness of my room, a deep sense of realization washed over me—we were finally, genuinely, making progress.
Together.