The Ending (Chapter 2)
Chapter 2: Stop the Time, Get Back the Time
Everything seems to come to a head.
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42542001/chapters/107864826
All the days blur together, Emu can’t really find a way to keep track of it all, nor does he want to. There’s a heaviness in his chest that he can’t quite shake, even as he pulls himself out of his bed every morning. He always felt tired, no matter what he did, but still, he forced himself to go about his days. Not that the passage of time made much sense to him, anymore.
The CR had been busy the past… well since that stupid game. Apparently the Gashat the game was in, the one they came back with, was the master Gashat that Masamune had during Chronicle, so it brought the efforts to bring people back further along. He should be happy about that, but still, he felt nothing.
He probably hid away in his room more than usual, these days. He’d get comfortable in bed and play games, Ai curled in his lap. More often than not, Graphite would come in, but even that didn’t really change much. Even though he would smile, it felt empty, just an act to try to prevent anyone from worry. There were more important things for them to worry about than him.
Today (he doesn’t really know what day it is, but that doesn’t really matter), Kuroto stops him when he emerges from his room, just past the acceptable threshold to have breakfast but just early enough he could get to Gemn without having to teleport. He expects that he’s going to get some lecture about skipping breakfast, again, and is prepared to find an excuse to hurry off. Surprisingly, that wasn’t what Kuroto had wanted to talk to him about, “Dr. Yaotome wants to meet with you today, proper. Remember, you said you were willing to meet with her.”
“Ah, right, I remember,” Sometime after Lovelica had appeared, but before he’d gotten kidnapped by the other him and Masamune. “I’ll… stop by the hospital at lunch.” It wasn’t like he was going to actually eat anything then, anyway.
Kuroto frowned, but nodded, “Don’t forget to eat something. I’m sure Burgermon would love to share a burger with you.” Burgermon’s enthusiasm for sharing his burgers with anyone and everyone at Gemn Corp was no secret, ever since his return. Tsukuru had once told Emu that it made him happy seeing how much everyone got along with Burgermon, and Emu was glad that Burgermon was able to exist like that, after the rockiness that had happened before.
Emu was already halfway to the door, though, “I will, I will.” Maybe, but even if Kuroto found out, he could always claim that he’d forgotten.
---
It really shouldn’t surprise anyone that when lunch time came, Emu went straight to the hospital, skipping over lunch. He was going to meet Yaotome like he said he would, and then he’d get back to work and probably pass out for a bit at some point (that was fine, he’d be fine). Dr. Yaotome was in the room she’d always been working from, working away, a strange Gashat plugged into her computer (he thinks Kuroto had mentioned something about… something like it helped convert Bugster data into human data, or something?).
She smiles when she sees him, “Emu, it’s wonderful to properly meet you!” Immediately, she pulls her chair out and turns to better face him.
For a moment, Emu stared, unsure of what to say, before he realized he was staring and decided he should probably say something. “It’s… uh, nice to meet you too, Dr. Yaotome…” Awkwardly, he sits down in the other chair in the room.
The smile on Yaotome’s face falters, and she sighs, “I… feel the need to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“Yes,” She stares at her lap for a moment, before returning her gaze towards him. “I want to apologize for what my father did to you, and what those who might have once worked with my father did to you.”
Her father… of course, Zaizen, the man who had separated Emu and Parad so many years ago. “You- you don’t need to. Apologize, I- I mean. That wasn’t your doing.”
She seems… not particularly surprised at his words, a smile returning to her face, albeit small. “Dr. Hojo said you’d say something like that,”
Parad, of course, knew Emu far too well, the reminder of which sent a strange and sinking feeling in Emu’s stomach. Tugging at his jacket sleeve, Emu put on his best smile, “Then that’s out of the way.” It seemed that his smile was convincing enough, as Yaotome’s smile grew, and she turned her attention back towards her desk.
Emu stands, a strange ache in his head suddenly coming and black fading into the edges of her vision. When Yaotome began to speak, he sat back down, body a little too hot, but the darkness fading away. “There’s one last thing I want to talk to you about, before you go,” He watches her carefully as she continues, ignoring a slight bout of lightheadedness. “We’ve finally found a way to turn Bugsters back into humans.”
“Oh,” Emu said, surprised, but not. He then remembered that it was a good, positive thing, and he should at least try to appear happy. “That’s good, that’s what you’ve been trying to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we haven’t tested it yet, but it’s an amazing step towards being able to bring people back,” now that we have actual access to their data, was left unsaid. She must have suspected his complicated feelings towards the Chronicle Gashat – or someone had told her. On one hand, he was relieved that finally, finally, things would be fixed. On the other… it only made him feel more monstrous. “For now, though, it’s simply a matter of giving it a try.”
“Who are you planning to try it on first?”
Still smiling, Yaotome answered, “It hasn’t been determined yet. I’d like to offer you the chance first, though.”
Offer him the chance? Him? His breath catches as he tries to process her offer. He could be human again? Was that even possible, did he even deserve it? He’s never truly been a Bugster – he still needed to eat and breath and drink water, still needed a mostly human amount of sleep. With the fact that he still had so much humanness to him, was it even possible to return him to fully being human? He didn’t die like Kuroto or Kiriya, he was an oddity in how he became a Bugster, would that affect the process? And given all he’s done, all the trouble he’s caused, the monster he’s become, did he deserve to be human again? Maybe it was better he stayed some mess of a Bugster-human monster.
Perhaps because of his tumultuous thoughts or the slight illness he’s been experiencing, it seemed that the room was spinning a little. He felt dizzy, bracing his hands against the edges of the chair, his body hot. “I… um…” He tumbled out, feeling worse than he had earlier. What was wrong with him? It must have been… been his Game Disease, that’s usually what it was. “I a-appreciate the… the offer but…”
“Emu?” Yaotome sounded concerned when she called his name. He’s already in the process of standing when he hears it, shaking and unbalanced. That… wasn’t normal. “Are you alright?”
---
Emu wakes up, greeted with the familiar white ceiling of the hospital. Oh, what was he doing here? He laid there, for a moment, listening only to the sounds the equipment in the room made as he tried to remember what had happened. There hadn’t been a fight – at this point, the Bugsters were dealt with by the vaccines, and when they couldn’t be, it was unusual for him or Kuroto to be called to help. So that wasn’t it. Had his Game Disease acted up? It was possible, but this was a normal hospital room, not the CR, and if it was his Game Disease, he’d be in the CR.
Last, he could remember… right, he’d been talking with Yaotome. She was finally at the point that she could return Bugsters to humans, and she’d offered to try on him first and he… he had been intending to turn her down, he remembers that. But he’s not sure that he actually got that far, he hadn’t been feeling well and then he was here.
The door opens and he hears Kuroto’s voice. “I should have known – I told him not to skip lunch but of course he didn’t listen.”
“I wanted to make sure he ate something, but he ran off before I could,” Graphite said, apparently and unsurprisingly with him, “it’s neither of our faults, Kin is stubborn.”
They’re talking about him, of course. Emu feels guilty, he’s obviously worried them. He closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend to be asleep, maybe then we wouldn’t have to face them. He wasn’t sure he could face them, not with the guilt pounding in his chest.
All he really seemed to do was worry them. He can hear the sound of chairs moving, and he assumes the two have sat down. “I don’t understand why,” Kuroto said, softly, “I thought… I thought things were finally better, and I knew that the game had made it worse but…”
“As I said, Kin is stubborn. He hid how he was feeling so as to try not to worry anyone.”
“Still! I promised mother I would look after him, and- and I can’t even do that!” Kuroto snapped, and dull thud informing Emu that he most likely had hit his legs with his fists. “I say I’m his brother… but he’s not any better with me than with anyone else.”
Oh… oh, that terrible feeling in Emu only got worse. He was a terrible brother, wasn’t he? Causing Kuroto so much worry and distress…
Graphite huffed, gently placing his hand over Emu’s. “It’s hardly your fault, Emu wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. Perhaps he might be content with Parad, but he made the same promise as you.”
He had. Yet when was the last time Emu had really done anything close to looking out for Kuroto? All he’s been doing is focusing on himself, on his own problems, and trying to simply keep Kuroto from worrying. But obviously that hadn’t worked, and those attempts had made it even worse. He was a terrible brother, and he couldn’t even keep his promise to Ms. Sakurako.
The terrible feeling in Emu’s chest grew, climbing through and into his throat, before settling in his head as a searing pain. He let out a gasp at the sudden pain, tightening his closed eyes in the hope of blocking out the pain. It did little, but he could tell that he’d caught both Graphite and Kuroto’s attention.
“Emu?” Much as before, he heard his name called with concern, this time by Kuroto.
Quickly, Graphite said, “He’s glitching,” His voice was mostly calm, but there was a hint of worry.
Oh, was all Emu could think, a pain searing through his veins, familiar in the worst way, just like when Chronicle ended. I might die.
---
“Either he was extremely stressed,” Saki said, sitting at the table in the CR, “Or something has changed the threshold that his Game Disease begins to flare at.”
Emu seemed… like he’d be okay, with time. He was in the CR now, his Game Disease having flared, though it was now slowly lowering, it seemed. It was compounded with his already bad state, as he hadn’t eaten much in a while, malnourished and dehydrated. But for now, it seemed he would recover, with time.
Yet his Game Disease flaring was a surprise. It hadn’t flared much since he’d first used Maximum Mighty X and it had seemed to stabilize his Game Disease. This seemed more like when his Game Disease and the Gamedeus Strain had flared at the end of Chronicle. Even then, though, it appeared to be different.
“Maybe it has something to do with whatever happened when he was kidnapped by Masamune and that evil him,” Kiriya suggested, taking a careful drink of coffee. “We still don’t quite know what they did to him, given their lack of real notes.”
Parad sighed, “We’ll have to try to figure it out. Not that there may be much we can do, even if that’s the case.”
“I suppose,” Kuroto sighed. He seemed upset, Parad didn’t blame him. First, Emu’s been distant and off since that game, had pushed them out and they couldn’t even feel anything from him over the bond. Then he collapsed while talking with Yaotome, and now his Game Disease has flared…
“I think,” Graphite began, “He heard us talking before. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep, I could tell.”
Frowning, Kuroto stared at his hands, clasped lightly on the table. “You think that’s what stressed him?”
“It possible, at least,” He stared into the window above the patient room, staring intently at Emu. “Regardless, something will have to give. I hope this… incident, will be the push he needs but…”
Kuroto looked up, staring at Graphite, “The push he needs? Emu will be alright…”
“From his Game Disease, perhaps, but in other ways…? We can’t be sure there won’t be a repeat, that he won’t just keep letting himself waste away because he can’t find it in himself to care.” Graphite stopped watching Emu through the window, looking towards Kuroto.
Hands balling into fists, Kuroto looks back down at his hands, “He’s going to be alright, he has to be.”
The tough truth, Parad thinks, is that Emu was in a terrible place, that much was obvious. And Graphite was right, something needed to change, he couldn’t continue on like this. It was dangerous and they could lose him if it did. The trouble was, none of them were really sure what to do – if there even was anything they could do.
“Graphite’s… right. Something has to change, this has gone on too long, we need to figure out how to help him.” Parad agreed, as much as he hated to.
“I’ll… I’ll talk to him when he wakes up.” Kuroto said, his voice distant. “We’ll… we’ll figure something out. He’ll be okay.”
It was saddening to see how much Kuroto seemed to be clinging onto that thought.
---
When Emu finally awakens, Kuroto gives him a little while. Partly because he didn’t want to risk overwhelming Emu, and partly because he didn’t want to have the conversation he knew they needed to. But some part of him is certain that Graphite and Parad are right, that it can’t go on like this. Just having no clue as to how to fix it didn’t make him feel all that confident.
Losing Emu scared him more, though, and that’s ultimately what gives him the courage to enter the room and see him. Emu looks… bored. Despite the game in his hands and the music of Taddle Quest coming from it, it was clear that Emu disinterested. Pausing in the doorway, Kuroto watched Emu, for a moment, before entering the room proper.
“Emu,” he called, prompting Emu to pause the game and set it down, looking over at him. “How are you feeling?”
There’s a small frown on Emu’s face, but he nods, “I’m… fine.” He stares at the black screen in his lap.
Pulling a chair beside the bed, Kuroto sits down. There’s a silence between them, for a few moments, while Kuroto searches for his words. Finally, he sighed, “There’s… somethings we need to talk about, Emu.”
“I’m sorry about worrying you.”
“It’s not that,” he takes Emu’s hand. “It’s not my worry we need to talk about. It’s that you’re here at all. You’re Game Disease is one thing, but before that…”
Emu looks up, though still not at Kuroto. “I’ll get better, I promise I will. It won’t happen again, I’ll… I’ll be better.” His words are rushed, urgent even as he refuses to turn his gaze to Kuroto.
It hurts Kuroto to hear, and what hurts even more is how he knows he has to respond. “I want to believe you, Emu, I do… but…”
Even without finishing his thought, Emu seemed to understand it, head falling again. “It’s alright.” His voice was strained, “I understand.”
The silence falls again, tense and terrible. Kuroto hated it, especially as it wasn’t even the end of the conversation. He couldn’t end it on that, he couldn’t ignore the other things they need to talk about. Yet Emu already looked so… sad. So hurt, even if he may have understood why Kuroto couldn’t bring himself to believe him.
Wasn’t it a shame that lying had become so common between them? Of their own wellbeing, of whether or not they’d slept or eaten. They’d fallen into a comfortable position, prior to that game, yes, but was it good for either of them? Kuroto wanted to think it was, but now he was doubting it.
“There’s something else,” Kuroto began, “I want to… how can we help you? We want to help you get better.”
Pulling his hand from Kuroto’s, Emu answered, “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps then, we need to change something,” Staring at his lap, Kuroto began to dread what he would say next. He’d tossed the thought around, gave it some thought, and though he hated it, he’d be willing, for Emu. He opens his mouth to say it, but nothing came out, not that Emu noticed. Sighing, he instead said, “Have you spoken about any of this in your therapy?” Even though they were no longer required to go to therapy, both Kuroto and Emu had decided to keep it up. Though Kuroto suspects he knows the answer to his question, as he is almost certain Emu skipped his last appointment, even though Emu had certainly been gone for the correct amount of time.
As expected, Emu answered, “No,” with a shake of his head.
“You should, then, next time,” Kuroto reminded, “That’s a part of the point.”
“I know, I know.”
Kuroto steels himself, determined to say what he’d initially intended to. “I… Maybe it would be… better if… better for you, at least, if…”
Quietly, Emu prodded with an almost fearful tone, “If…?”
“Somewhere else. That is, I mean, that you’re somewhere else – or rather with someone else.”
“Kuroto, that doesn’t make sense.”
“I mean… Emu, you mean the world to me, really you do, but… maybe… maybe it’s possible that, as we are, it’s better that we aren’t together. You should perhaps stay with Parad, or I could find somewhere else to stay.” Kuroto pulls his hands into his lap, tightening them into fists as he focused on them. “I don’t think we’re helping each other, as we are. And that it’s better-“
He's cut off by Emu’s barely audible “oh”. Staring intently at his lap, Emu’s lips wavered. “If that’s what you think.”
Reaching for Emu’s hand once more, Kuroto responded, “I just think-“
Shaking his head, Emu cut him off once more, “No I- I trust your judgement. God knows you can make it better than me.” There was something about his tone, something that hurt, but Kuroto felt he was too far in to backpedal now. “I’ll see if Parad will have me, or you can ask him for me.”
Unsure of what else to say, Kuroto stands, “I’ll… talk to Parad.”
The terrible feeling in Kuroto’s chest felt overwhelming. Like he’d made the biggest mistake of his life, but he keeps repeating to himself that it’s for Emu. That it’ll help. It has to.
---
After Kuroto came and spoke with him, time seemed to blur away for Emu, staring at the walls and the ceiling, letting time pass him as it did. Finally, the night came, as told by the internal clock of his game. Night.
Silently, he crawls out of bed, pulling the IV out carefully, and shutting off the machine that monitored his Game Disease. Even if anyone noticed he was gone, it wouldn’t be soon enough, he thinks. Pulling on his jacket, he then makes his way up to the roof of the hospital.
His steps are a bit unsteady, and he still feels tired and he shook in a way he never had before. Anxiety pooled in his chest, but he worked past it as he pushed the door to the roof open. Then he makes his way to the railing, leaning against the railing, holding it tightly.
Still, he was shaking, leaning further and further.
He always thought the view from the roof of the hospital was nice, pretty at this time of night, even. The lights of the city illuminated in the darkness, chasing it away yet only a little. The more he leaned, the more he wondered if maybe that would be the last sight he’d see. City lights, hiding the stars that he knows are in the sky from sight.
It wouldn’t be a terrible end, he thinks, closing his eyes. Besides, it was obvious… even if he disappeared, there was no one left to be hurt. Just broken promises.
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