☆ In which a final promise is made. ☆
Your heart chills when someone emerges from the smoking depths of the lobby, blazing orange with embers now in full force, a figure so charred and disfigured you are unable to tell who they are until they actually speak.
"Fuck, that hurt." Niragi spits.
The militant lurches violently into view like a drunkard, singed from head to toe. By fight or by fire, he has been rendered completely unrecognisable; his silver piercings are blackened with soot, his skin smudged with ash, and something resembling a tattered blindfold is fastened to his head. In one hand, he wields a flaming torch - in the other, his rifle. He shifts each item as if weighing them, deciding on the better weapon.
"Should've just burned this dump down in the first place," he drawls.
Only once the torch in his hand is airborne do you realise that his words were a forewarning.
The flaming stick whistles through the air like a rocket and bursts upon the floor – just metres away from where you stand. Screams and fire erupt where the torch lands, igniting the threaded carpet and clinging to any stray fabric it can catch. Niragi sways on his feet and lifts his rifle; he aims into a cluster of residents and they scatter. "I'll clear this damn game myself!"
You reel back when the first gunshot rings with a resounding bang.
Someone slams into you, seeking desperate refuge from the pierced militant, and you bounce off a plaster pillar. Pain explodes through your body as your left arm collides with the structure, causing you to stagger. You catch a glimpse of the person who had run into you just seconds before the next shot comes–
Red bursts from their chest and they drop like a stone.
Niragi pulls the trigger once, twice, countless more times. People scramble frantically away from the ricocheting bullets and you duck behind the pillar to avoid being rammed into once more, although a hole is blasted through the top of it only moments later.
Over the edge of the pillar you just barely catch Usagi hurling herself at Niragi, followed closely by Arisu, and less than a heartbeat later the both of them are flung to the ground. Enraged, Niragi jabs his rifle at Usagi and Arisu throws himself in front of her.
"You guys..." Niragi slurs, baring his teeth into another wide grin. Arisu stares down the barrel of his rifle, wide-eyed and defiant. "I'll fucking kill you all!"
Arisu closes his eyes. He is ready to die, you realise, as long as Usagi is safe.
Her eyes widen when she realises it too.
"Arisu!" Usagi screams. She reaches out for Arisu as Niragi pulls the trigger–
Aguni barrels forward, shoving Arisu to the side.
You stare in horror as the bullet pierces Aguni's shoulder in an explosion of sound. He falters, stumbles, but keeps running. The expression of shock on Niragi's face morphs to irritation as he shoots again and again - but no matter how many bullets strike through Aguni's body he doesn't stop. He hollers again, as guttural as the last time but with a fresh, new edge of rage, and crashes into Niragi.
With a force that could move mountains Aguni slams into the militant, wrapping his arms around him in a deathly embrace and continuing to run. Aguni tears past the smoke and petrified Beach residents into the hungry flames gathered at the lobby's entrance. He never lets go of Niragi even as the man struggles against his grip, pounding his shoulders with the rifle, even as the both of them plunge screaming into the raging fire.
There are two final, isolated gunshots.
And everything beyond the flickering flames falls silent.
You sink slowly to the ground, pressing a trembling hand to the pillar's white plaster. Grey smoke swirls in their wake, shifting before your eyes as you digest what had just happened.
Aguni got what he wanted, in the end.
"Three minutes remaining."
You hear Kuina shout that there is no time left to spare, and follow the people as they swarm Momoka's body. They work in a strange kind of harmony to lift and carry her out of the lobby to the Fire of Judgement; swiftly and silently, like worker bees.
As you move with the crowd you see Arisu pause by Asahi's body. He kneels beside her, eyelids lowered, reaching out.
You keep walking.
Momoka's burning is a solemn affair, and the residents of the Beach gather mournfully as they watch twin flames dance over the hotel and Momoka's body. The young girl lies among many others, the smoking graveyard a reminder of how quickly and cruelly a life can be taken. You hear the chime of congratulations, someone's phone notifying that the Ten of Hearts game has been cleared, and the announcer's cheerful tone seems morbid in the current situation.
There is no glory to be had after a Hearts game, only the lingering senses of loss and regret.
Searching the sparse group of survivors your eyes land on a woman and a young girl, one with short hair and one with long, both with neat fringes. You breathe a sigh of relief for Asami and Nao stand hand-in-hand, murmuring quietly to each other. A little way away you locate Kuina and Ann at the forefront of those watching the fire twist and flicker. Arisu and Usagi stand next to the two women, close to each other, shoulders touching in a way that seems to say I'm still here.
You look away.
The moon is full and round, and it too watches the outer walls of the Beach slowly crumble away. The hotel entrance, once grand and paneled with glass, is now shattered beyond repair. Bushes and vines of fire bloom in massive, blazing orange clusters through the broken door and at the lines where the hotel plaster meets outside soil. The rooftop is visible from where you stand, sparks colliding with the edges you used to sit on like shooting stars. You are certain there is nothing but ashes left of your post-it notes, your bracelets, your paper butterflies.
Yet you find yourself unsurprised when you see a flash of white move through the columns of embers in the hotel, unnoticed by everyone but you.
As the figure recedes further into the lobby, your feet begin to move.
Maybe it's the influence of the stars in the sky that lead you away, arranged in a twinkling linear compass pointing back the way you came.
Or maybe it's just you and the feeling of your empty hands, or the unfulfilled promises still lingering in the air.
You allow yourself to follow.
When you push carefully through the Beach's crumbling doorframe, the lobby is not yet completely consumed by flames. You walk past the small bodies of fire that creep along the hotel corners, finding it fortunate that the lobby is mostly plaster instead of wood. A small white table lies in wait at the foot of the room; on it is a single card, the revered Ten of Hearts that Hatter had sought after for so long.
A hand reaches for the card, clad in white fabric, but stiffens when he hears your footsteps.
Chishiya turns, and your heart jumps to your throat.
The blonde's eyes settle on you listlessly, still cold, although without the fear that had traced through his gaze barely an hour before. He raises his eyebrows a fraction as if to ask why you're here, as if he had never read horrible romance novels on your hotel-room floor, as if he had never known you at all.
But then you see his eyes stop at the injuries on your left arm and it's almost like muscle memory when you smile at him, something so easy and familiar that despite everything that had happened it just feels right.
And when you smile, the look in his eyes wavers with uncertainty.
He catches himself yet again.
"You shouldn't be here," Chishiya says flatly.
"I don't know if you should be the one to decide that." You murmur. Your words seem to travel an eternity before they reach him, even though the two of you stand barely a metre apart.
His jaw tightens. The reply he offers you is dull, lacking the colour your own voice has. "I thought I'd made myself clear earlier," he says tersely.
"You did."
You take a step forward and he eyes you warily, but you simply extend your uninjured hand to him. You wait patiently until Chishiya exhales and places his palm in yours, and you realise that the motion must be as ingrained into his memory as it is your own when his fingers curl between yours of their own accord.
The question forms swiftly upon your lips.
"Why did you look at me like that?" You say softly. "Back in the lobby. You looked kind of..." You trail away. Chishiya's eyes harden, and you almost wish you hadn't asked. Afraid, is the word you are looking for, but it seems to be wedged in your throat. You open your mouth to dislodge a hasty withdrawal, but then there it is again - the fleeting look of trepidation reflected in his features - and you know that this an answer you need to hear.
He is quick to repair the crack in his mask, quiet and sharp. "Kind of what?" He says, but the caution that edges his voice is unmistakable.
Suddenly you are unable to bring your own voice above the volume of a whisper.
"Chishiya, why did you say you were scared of me?" The trepidation is yours now, and the encroaching flames spark audibly at the lobby walls. You hold his hand is if it is made of glass, careful of its fragility, stopping it from melting in the heat. "What did you mean by that? You never told me."
There is a pause in which he inhales, recalling the moment. "I shouldn't have said that."
"But you did say it." You are unsure of whether this line of questioning will lead anywhere, given how Chishiya is prone to denial, but you find that you cannot stop yourself from pressing onwards. You hesitate, and the beat of silence between your words feels dangerous. "Maybe if you tell me, I'll be able to understand your decision better."
"What I said back then was a mistake," Chishiya replies coldly. "I've already given you all the explanation I can. I don't know what you want me to tell you."
Only, he does know - and you know it too.
Chishiya's palm warms over yours, and you wonder if he can feel what you are trying to convey. To be a Hearts player meant you were supposed to understand without explanation, for you to be able to decipher honeyed glances and disguised warmth and be content with what you find. But there are things that you, like everyone else, want to hear - even if it is only a reassurance of what you already know. That he does care, in a way that is as obvious as the unspoken I'm still here that flits between Arisu and Usagi every time they stand side-by-side. You didn't like the ambiguous notions that came with his arguments of self-preservation.
If this really was the last time you would be seeing him, weren't you owed at least this much?
You pause, deliberating on how best to respond; the lightness of speech you are used to with him resurfaces, the idle conversations you had kept with him most days forming on the tip of your tongue. "If you tell me, I'll split a cake with you," you offer, and Chishiya snorts in spite of himself. You smile, unable to help yourself. His eyes flicker. You forget, sometimes, how soft the colour of his eyes can be. "Maybe even three-quarters. Look, I'll even buy a matcha cake for you, since it's your favourite-"
Chishiya's palms are suddenly at your cheeks when he kisses you, chaste and hard. He breaks away just as quickly - his hands fall from your face and you stare at him, wide-eyed, your hand still suspended where he had abruptly pulled his fingers from yours. He exhales.
"Stop," he says hoarsely, and the interruption sounds unusually bitter in his mouth. "Stop saying things like that. That matcha is my favourite. That you'll try to understand when I know you don't want to. Why do you have to make everything so much harder?" He runs a hand through his hair at the surprised look on your face, exasperated. He cannot seem to look away from the curves of your lips where your smile had previously rested. "I-"
You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him, cutting him off.
He leans back into you, as if the resistance he had been holding on to so desperately before had melted away with the flames that surround you. You barely even register the jolt of pain that shoots up your arm at the motion - your palms cup his face and one of his hands is at the base of your neck, the other weaving through your hair. The stars collect everywhere your skin touches, his fingertips lighting a night sky in miniature against your shoulders.
"What have you done to me?" He murmurs breathlessly between kisses, the words pressed gingerly to your lips. Coming from someone like Chishiya, you suppose, such a phrase borders on something confessional. And yet to your dismay he still utters after, "I can't give you what you want to hear."
"Just tell me why you're afraid," you whisper. "That's all I'm asking."
Chishiya sighs, and another kiss is pressed gently to the corner of your mouth.
"I'd never once doubted that I would keep surviving alone," he eventually concedes, "but the thought brings only uncertainty to me now.
"I don't think I can go back to the way I was," he says quietly. "Before you. Not anymore. "
"Is that really what this is about?" You feel a kind of wonder at the expression on his face, because it is the only time he has ever looked at you so...wistfully.
"It's the most terrifying thing I've ever known." He admits, with a humorless laugh. "And yet fear is not supposed to feel this warm. I never thought there would come a time where I'd hope so badly to have met you in a life that wasn't this one, but here we are."
And yet fear is not supposed to feel this warm. You feel the touch of a single butterfly against the insides of your chest, and you find that you don't need to hear anything anymore. "There's no need to hope for that," you say gently, "when I've already met you in this life."
He shakes his head. His blonde hair, gossamer like strands of moonlight, brushes against your cheek. "Nothing good ever lasts in this world," he replies, ever the cynic (for a second there you had forgotten how much the man loves to complain). "So how can I expect you to be the exception?"
You shrug, a movement that becomes more of a slight shoulder-raise due to your lack of space.
"It's a risk that everyone has to take at some point, I suppose." You give him another smile, as reassuring as you can make it. "I can take care of myself, Chishiya, I promise. I'm still here, aren't I?" You hold up your pinky finger and your smile grows wider. "Plus, you can't break a pinky promise. Everyone knows that."
At this Chishiya groans, the memory of your penchant for promises clearly resurfacing in the skeptical face he is making, and you laugh. "You promise me too - that you won't leave again. I'll come with you, okay? We'll survive together." You indicate your pinky finger with raised brows and a grin, trying to express that he would be losing out on a great bargain by turning you down. The blonde stares at you for a beat more, scrutinising your pinky with a defeated look.
"What is it with you and promises?" He sighs, but the corners of his mouth twitch. "You never do give up, do you?"
"Of course not!" You exclaim. "I still have to take you to Shibuya, remember? And you owe me cake." You prod him with your other hand.
"No, you owe me cake."
Chishiya sighs again but now he cannot hide his grin. He makes a big show of reluctantly holding out his pinky to your offered one, swatting at you when you poke him once more. "Alright, alright," he says, averting his gaze from yours to hide how the corners of his eyes crinkle, "I promise."
You beam, wrapping your arms around him in a jubilant hug, and he reciprocates your embrace with a chuckle.
"I promise too," you say, even though you are sure Chishiya knows you would promise over and over again for nothing in return, and you bury your laughter into the crook of his neck when he announces into your shoulder what a sap you are (you can feel the curve of his smile pressed against you, so you know that there is not only One Sap but Two).
There, underneath a thousand stars and the roof of a burning building, you've never been so certain that pinky promises really do last forever - or at least, that this one will.
When Kuina materialises in the lobby's entrance some time later, looking unsurprised, the three of you finally leave the hotel. With the echo of your footsteps mingling with the crackle of flames, it feels as if you are the only people left in the world.
You pass by the Fire of Judgement but the spectators are long gone, leaving only ghostly imprints of those who had taken shelter in Hatter's utopia. Overhead, the stars and moon light up your path into the unknown; you spare one last glance at the hotel over your shoulder, but you cannot make out the rooftop any more.
Chishiya and Kuina walk with purpose and you follow, hand tucked into Chishiya's. He rubs his thumb absentmindedly over the side of your hand and your shoulders are close enough to touch as you walk, brushing gently against each other every so often in a silent rhythm.
I'm still here.
Hello hello! There will be one more chapter after this one, so stay tuned!