Reborn into The Promised Neverland//RayxReader//

//Scars - Epilogue//

Hey guys! Forewarning: this epilogue is over 14K words. (That's more than double the longest chapter thus far). So you could say it's not meant to be read in one sitting. It's sort of like a goodbye, prolonged to be as long as possible. You can stop reading whenever you want, and come back whenever you want. Or you can binge it in one sitting – that's probably what I'd do.

Or maybe you won't read this, and you'll pretend like it's not over. (Which, I mean... fair ig)

Regardless, before you read, as a last request from me, I ask you get yourself a glass of water. Maybe a snack. Take a deep breath. Take your time. You've got plenty.

Before I go, if you see any mistakes, just... shhh... this chapter was way too long for my usual editing proccess rip.

Now,

Hope you enjoy <33

- - - 

TO: Y/N

September 5th, 2048

Mama said we shud rite you letters wen we miss you. But I dont no you, so I don't no what to rite yet. My name is Carol. I turn 5 in August. Im still lerning how to rite all the words. And today Im am kind a sad becus everywon misses you. They talk about you somtimes. Daddy Yougo says your brave but stuped. Daddy Lucas says that is a bad word and he shud not say that. And Poppy says alot about you but not relly the othr big kids, I think becus there sad.

But my new sistrs say things sumtimes. Alicia says you look like Norman. I dunno becus Norman looks like Norman? Alicia said also you like cookies. I like cookies too! Jemima says your nice, and like Emma, and Ray, and Norman, but also sillier. I like being silly.

I think we wood get along alot. Thats why im sad. I wish I remembr you, becus you sound lotsa fun and nice. And if I know'd you, I would not hav to ask about you, becus when I ask it makes them sad. Emma said that Ray used to be not sad, too, but I dont remember that. Mama says I was too yung. Its furs frusta frurts frustfated me.

Please com home soon so that every one stops being sad, and we can be frens!

LOVE CAROL

•

Boots pounded across the ground, as breaths heaved through laboured lungs. Running... running from something, but what? From who?

What was I doing here? These woods weren't familiar– or were they?

I don't remember... I don't remember anything. Who am I, even? How long have I been here?

I had nothing but questions– and every one begged another instead of an answer.

My fingers were rough from the effort of scaling the massive trees, a task I did with the same ease I continued running with now. The same knowledge I seemed to have of these woods, of survival, of these... creatures I kept running into.

How long would this go on? When would I stop running?

My foot snagged on something– a tree root? No, a rope!

My feet were yanked out from under me as the world suddenly spun upside down. My stomach felt as though it dropped to the ground and then ricocheted off of the treetops– it's a miracle I didn't barf.

Ugh. I never liked this part. My brow furrowed. 'This part' of what...?

"You... are not getting any easier to catch."

•

"You... are not getting any easier to catch." As he tapped my back, it was like a dam burst open in my mind, years of blocked-off memories flooding back.

"Really?" I said, grappling onto his neck to stop the sickening back-and-forth swinging. My foot was snagged in one of his traps, dangling from one of the branches soaring stories above our heads. I hadn't noticed it, concealed beneath the fresh spurts of green life across the ground. "You'd think the memory loss would prove a greater advantage."

Ray rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You know these woods better than any of us."

"Yeah, in memories I can't recall," I snarked. "Now would you kindly cut me down? I feel like I'm gonna hurl, and if I do, it's going to be on you."

Ray obliged, sawing through the rope with a makeshift knife. I fell onto my back with a pained grunt. "Really?" I seethed through my teeth. "There was no better way you could've done that?"

Leaning over, he raised a hand and helped me to my feet. "No."

"Charming," I said drily, stretching out my aching limbs, rolling my head from side to side. My clothes– a t-shirt and pyjama pants– were caked with mud and quite frankly disgusting, and I was sure my face and hair were none for the better. "How long has it been?" I asked.

"As of now?" Ray checked his watch. He was similarly dressed in dirty pyjamas– but at least looked a little better put together than I. "5 days."

"5 days! That's your shortest time, yet," I slung an arm around his shoulders, and we fell into step, boots crunching across the canopy of sticks and leaves. I was eager to get out of the infested woods – I didn't like being in them much. "Sure it isn't getting easier?"

"Yes. Last time took 13, remember?"

"Ah, right." My memory of the incident was hazy. "That was the time that I..."

"Befriended a nomadic tribe and ended up halfway across the continent, yes."

"Right... But I mean," I chirped, "Norman's caught me in 2 days before."

Ray's eyes rolled as he scoffed. "Oh please, it's bias."

"Bias??" My disbelief was apparent. "Whose?"

"X's."

I huffed through a grin. "You know what that sounds like?"

"What?"

"Like the voice of a sore loser."

"Whatever," sighed Ray. "We're about three day's walk from HQ... You wanna stop by Mujika's on the way back?"

"Hell yes!" I pumped a fist in the air. "I can't wait to take a bath... And see little LuLu."

He raised an eyebrow at the thought. "I'm willing to bet 'LuLu's' not so little anymore."

I let out a long breath, weaving a hand through my hair– which proved to be a bad idea, as my fingers didn't make it very far before getting tangled in the knots. "Probably not," I said as I extracted my hand. "Not with Mujika's... arrangement."

"They didn't want to see you die first," Ray said, giving my shoulder a comforting pat.

I leaned into his side, pursing my lips in a hum. "I know. That doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it." I kicked a rock, sending it skittering across the ground. "How many years do you think have passed since our last visit?"

"It's been 32 days in the human world, so about...  6 years here?" Answered Ray– the math was always second nature. "It's pretty much the equivalent of a month of their lifespan."

I relented with a little inward sigh. "Well, that's how they wanted it– and if X was fine with it, there's nothing I can do." Deciding that was enough brooding, I shook my head, becoming excited as I considered seeing the capital city again– but most importantly, Mujika, Sonju, and Lou. "Say, I wonder if Cozbi'll be in town."

Ray's face scrunched in distaste. "I hope not."

"Oh, don't be like that," I jabbed a finger into his cheek, an ever-sly smile etching my face. "You know you love her."

He pulled my hand down as he leaned in close, speaking through his teeth. "You. Wish."

Y/N,

Nov. 20, 2048

Hey! So, Daisy's been bugging me about writing for some time now. They're all really into this letter writing thing! If I'm honest, I don't really see the point. It's not like you'll see them, you know? But I guess I gotta write one anyway, so I'll tell you what's goin on. Update time!

So. Reina's become a scientist! She shuts herself in that little office of hers and labours over her latest project for hours. Sometimes I ask her what she's doing, but I won't lie, most of the time I don't understand a word out of her mouth. She really likes that there's so many people to help out with kids nowadays. Don't get me wrong, she loves them, but she's super excited about having her own career. Power to her, you know!

Hayato's writing! He won't tell me what it's about. He doesn't let anyone get a peak of his drafts – last time I tried, he shredded his manuscript and wouldn't talk to me for days! He's kind of rude like that. But he's got a whole mountain of books he's read, and it grows every day. It wouldn't surprise me if he's read every book ever by next year. I think he reads in his sleep!

Daisy's in school! She makes friends so fast, and she loves bringing them to visit. You should see their faces when they see our house – Hilarious! All her teachers love her because she's such a happy kid. She's also really gotten into clothes, lately! She models Gillian's children's designs!

Niko's in medical school! She can't graduate because of age restrictions, but several doctors have already accepted her as an assistant. She says she wants to be a nurse, because she wants to be someone who can make patients as comfortable as possible when they're struggling the most. It's really honourable. She and Hannah are going at it three months strong! I saw it coming for years.

Speaking of Hannah, she's grumpy as ever. But she's taking up baking! I think it might be because it's the only thing she was objectively better than you at... (don't tell her I said that.) But boy, are her pastries good! I wish you could try them!

Chris is still quiet. He babysits kids in the city, and volunteers at children's hospitals to read them books and donate toys and stuff. He wants to be an elementary school teacher. He's finally gotten over his big fat crush on you, and has started giving moon eyes to one of the other volunteers. I've only met her once, but she's great! A lot like you, just maybe a little more... reserved?

And then there's me! I'm not really doing anything, (lol). I help out around the house... but I tend to spend a lot of time sleeping, (oops!) But it's okay with me. I don't want to move forward without you yet.

Ah, is that depressing? Sorry! I just wanted to make sure you know I care. Lol. Who am I kidding? You won't see this anyway.

Love you always!

Poppy.

I was bombarded with a child the moment I pushed the door open. "Y/N!" This was Louise, a child left orphaned by the bandit's attack. She'd been alive some 220 years, which in demon, put her at about three years in development. Unlike Ray's assumption, in the six years that had supposedly passed here since I saw her last, she hadn't changed at all.

Contradicting Lou, the two demon royals had been changing gradually ever since the bandits' attack on the capital. Mujika had fully come into her role as queen, becoming a strong-willed advocate for the betterment of her people. She no longer leaned on Sonju for aid, who'd been providing such using his once experience as an heir to he throne. She now stood high and confident in her role, unafraid to put barons and citizens alike in their place. On the other hand, fatherhood had done Sonju well, as he had quite mellowed out – he still maintained his role as general, but enjoyed the home life, and spending time with Lou. He relished in teaching them the same things I once learned – though his new approach was far more... gentle, you could say.

Mujika wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me close, though my appearance was haggard. "You've grown again!"

"In a month? Please, Mujika, don't flatter me."

Sonju bellowed a snicker as he nudged my side. "She's just trying to make you feel better about being a runt."

"A runt?" Lou asked, all while giving the up-up hands to Ray, who scooped her off the ground upon noticing.

"A brat," elaborated the demon general. "An ankle-biter."

I jabbed my boot into his shin. "Don't listen to this old man, Lou. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"I'm not old! I'm in my prime!"

"Oh," Mujika sighed, "You'll still be saying that on your deathbed." She turned back to me with a kind smile, wiping some dirt from my face. "And don't listen to him. You've grown considerably since you left." She wasn't wrong there. In two years, I had grown enough to be almost level with her – the growth spurt was so sudden that I'd wondered if it was something about that human world air. "Now, I'd assume you'd like somewhere to wash up?"

My shoulders slumped with a sigh of relief. "I thought you'd never ask."

Her breath bubbled with a gentle, musical sort of laugh. "I'll have someone run a bath, then, and set out some clean clothes. One for Ray, too. Would that be nice?"

"Yes," I said. "Absolutely. Undeniably. How often do I tell you I love you?"

"Too often."

"Can it, old man!"

Within minutes I was reclining in a hot bath, feeling tensions from a five days I hardly remembered wash away. I was ever glad for Sonju and Mujika, who had been one of the only constants in these past two years. Taking everything in back home had been a nightmare; adjusting to waking up to a warm bed and a quiet house every morning. Often, I'd found myself wandering around aimlessly at odd hours, lugging around a body unaccustomed to so many nights of full rest.

It didn't take long for the others to start to notice my years in the demon world had changed me. With so much time spent so deep in paranoia, my senses had been stretched to the extreme – I was hyperaware of my surroundings at all times. It had never stuck out when I was still in the demon world; the defence mechanism had often been the only thing keeping me alive. But removed from that space into another, into a safe one, it was like being around a soldier recently returned from war. For a time, I couldn't sit with an open space to my back, especially not doors or windows. Sudden noises startled me, and approaching me from behind without calling out first was like begging for a disaster. Often my hands would flutter for my knife belt when I felt threatened, and when I realized it wasn't there, a surge of panic would follow before I could return to my senses.

The worst were the flashbacks. I would suddenly break from reality, feeling as though I was somewhere else – often exhausted, trudging through demon infested woods alone, knowing every sound could be a danger to my life. Other times it was crammed in a vent, the only sound my breathing, as my ears perked for any signs of a demon Archduke who was now a ghost. They didn't look like much from the outside, as I hid them well – I simply appeared to be staring into space, pondering a great subject at length. At least, that's what those who didn't know me before my fake death thought. But the keener ones and my family were often alarmed by my long, sudden stretches of silence– though they, too, hid their alarm well.

Showered with nothing but love and support, I had almost fully adjusted in this span of 24 months. The flashbacks were now scarce and brief, and though I still had trouble sleeping some nights, it wasn't a daily occurrence. Even in the demon world – a place I used to always feel on edge – I now reclined in a bath, no weapons within my reach, and the thought didn't make me afraid.

Dear Y/N,

Dec 11 2048

I'd never really thought about the afterlife much. Even after discovering Conny, what happened after death was something I'd never dared venture to consider. But lately I've been trying to picture where you are right now. As the kids end every week with at least one new letter, I just hope you can see them, wherever you are.

I hope you're doing well, because I am! I have Norman back, I have Mom back, I have Phil back, and I still remember every moment I cherished with them – with my family. That's the most I could ask for, right? I keep telling myself that.

I make myself think about you often, even though it can be hard. I do it for the kids, because they don't remember you as much as I do. I do it for Norman, who feels guilty for not spending more time with you. I like telling stories about you to the kids. It makes them happy, and it keeps the memory of you alive.

Actually, maybe I'm not doing so well after all. I guess I shouldn't lie to you, huh? To be honest, every time Carol or Sherry or someone else asks about you, I want to cry. And sometimes we'll accidentally set an extra spot at the table, and it makes me want to yell. Sometimes, I get so frustrated I curl into a ball, just so I can shut it all out. I only do it when I'm alone, though, since I don't want to make anyone worry. I've got to stay strong, you know! If I was supposed to be the leader in the first place, then I should be that way, now. I gotta step up, so wherever you are, you don't have to worry!

By the way, it'd be your birthday tomorrow! You'd be 13. We're planning on celebrating it – baking a cake and everything. I don't know how it will go yet, but hopefully everybody has fun. I think you'd like that.

Lots of love,

Emma

"I must ask you to stay the night, at least," Mujika said over dinner. Ray and I had joined them at the table, dressed in clean plainfolk clothes that didn't draw attention.

"We have about three days here before they notice we're missing," Ray says, pushing food around his plate. In the human world, only about an hour would pass in that time. "Of course, after that they panic until we're back."

Ray's deal with X had been a subject of anxiety for the first month in the human world – though that was the crafty little demon god's intention. The whole time, I'd been dreading the moment it was enacted – that Ray's memories would be taken away, that he would be taken away, or that his life was taken away– truly, I'd believed trusting him had been a massive mistake. One wrong decision, made in the heat of the moment, that had the potential to destroy everything. (I just hadn't been able to bear to say no to those eyes of his.)

Really, I should've expected something like this: a prolonged deal to provide as much entertainment to the little shit for as long as possible. At entirely random times, myself and someone from the group of seven who ventured to find me would have to play another 'tag' game in the demon world. Same rules as the one we'd played for the reward the first time: 14 days to catch me, or else I'd lose my memories and remain there. The only difference was that I had my memories wiped during the time of – if both parties were trying to find each other, the tag game would hardly last so long.

Norman certainly had gotten his wish – the chaos never ended.

It was unfortunate that it would hang over our heads forever – never knowing if this would be it; if this time would be time they failed; everything lost. It was certainly an act of trust – every time, I was putting my full faith that they would catch me in time. Contrary to what you might think, they were more concerned about it than I. I could see X's little mistake. In blocking my memories during the tag game, I never improved at running away. But though they couldn't see it themselves, the others were slowly getting more adept at catching me, and I knew that one day it would become an object of no concern.

Trusting Ray had payed off.

Dear Y/N,

01/15/2049

I suppose since it was me who suggested the letters, it would be wrong of me not to write one myself. Now, I've been keeping all of the letters in a box, just in case you see them someday. I'm no fool; I'm fairly certain you're still alive in the demon world, and that man Yuugo knows it. I'm fairly certain my son is convinced of it by now, too.

My son. It still feels odd to say that about Ray, but he doesn't seem to mind. Of the other children, they all seem to have forgiven me wholeheartedly – Emma especially, though some are more skeptical than others. Norman in particular. He doesn't seem to loathe me; he tolerates me, at least, for the sake of his family, but I don't believe I will ever truly regain his affection. For that, I don't blame him – I don't believe myself deserving of it. In fact, his disposition toward me is what I had been expecting from all of the kids. I'd expected worse, in fact. If they openly despised me, I would have welcomed that response.

I suppose I'm speaking more of myself than I should, in this letter to you. What I really want to do right now is thank you. For the brief time I witnessed you and my son together, he'd seemed more a person than he'd ever been before. It is a shame he's closed himself off so, but I suppose the greater shame is the tool I'd turned him into in his youth; refusing to accept who he was to me.

Thank you for keeping my children safe, Y/N. Thank you for sacrificing yourself to bring them – to bring all of us – to a space we can live safely and happily as a family. Though I often wish you hadn't when I see the affect it has had on all of them, I still believe it a necessity. Perhaps that makes me cruel.

I hope I do one day see you again. When that time comes, I'd love to see you as a child of my own. That is, if the thought is appealing to you.

Sincerely,

Isabella.

I spent the following day with a sword. Come on now, I might no longer have a need for weapons, but swinging them around was fun. I took turns sparring with the soldiers; kicking their asses was a refreshing delight. I wasn't all that out of practice, considering that Norman, with the help of the others, had outfitted part of the property with a dojo as an over-the-top 15th birthday gift. Even if it was triggering on occasion— I would suddenly find myself feeling as though I had to fight for my life — there was nothing so good at taking my mind off of things such as regaining my strength. Losing myself in practice and hacking mindlessly at a training dummy for hours, getting accustomed with all kinds of weapons; to me, there was nothing quite so calming.

"Mind if I try a round?"

As I pulled my sword from the ground, my face broke in a delighted grin. "Cozbi!"

The she-demon crossed the training field, her sword propped on her shoulder, draped in elegant robes that now marked her as the leader of her clan. She had fought for a place on Mujika's council, where she was now the youngest member to date, and attended all the deliberations she could. Unfortunately, the knowledge I had of her current position was purely through others, for I'd only seen her once, the first time I returned to this world after enacting the promise.

"Well?"

I raised my sword at the ready. "You're on."

She beat me eventually, as I fell back onto the grass, huffing for breath. "Where have you been?" I complained. "It's been almost two years! Every time I'm around you're nowhere to be seen."

"Two years?" she exclaimed, sprawled similarly across the ground. "It's been almost a hundred fifty! And it's not like your visits are ever announced – I'm a busy person!" Huffing, she pushed herself to her feet and offered me a hand. As I stood, she rested an arm on my shoulder. "It looks like we have a lot to catch up on, huh? In the meantime..." her lips pulled into a proud sort of smile, as we began walking toward the castle. "You look good," she said. "Happier."

I looked to her face, to the way she held herself with confidence, yet somehow with a humble air that was so unlike her. Though she and Mujika had started in entirely different places, they were both growing into self-respecting leaders. I had a feeling that while I'd been away, the two had been learning various things from each other. "You too."

Brat,

So, I guess the kids think you can read letters in the afterlife, or whatever. I wish there was a way to get them to you, but maybe you are seeing them somehow, so I'll write this like you are.

I hope you're doing well over there. I'm sure you'll be glad to know everyone's moved on by now. But that doesn't mean they haven't forgotten you– hence the letters. It started as Isabella's idea, but the younguns have really gotten into it.

I won't lie, it's been hard. To see them all suffering, and not be able to say anything is a major pain in the ass. I can't even tell Lucas, despite knowing how much he blames himself. Well, they all do, to some extent. Alicia came into my room crying last night. She was saying, 'Do you think if we gave her more cookies, she wouldn't have left?' and, 'The big kids keep saying it was to protect us. Does that mean if we were stronger, she would still be here?'

I couldn't do anything to comfort her. All I could say was that you were determined, and there was nothing anyone could've done to change your mind.

Lately I've just felt so angry. It used to be all I felt, for some thirteen years, alone in that bunker, losing my mind. Lucas tries to comfort me, but it's hard when he doesn't know what's wrong. I'm just such a lousy excuse for a father.

I lied earlier. I said everyone's moved on. But I think it's all just a front– the people of this family are all too smart for their own good; so adept at putting on airs. You know, aside from your boyfriend, I'm probably the furthest behind. How can I move on, when I know you're alive somewhere hurting, and there's nothing I can do to help?

It's ironic. You considered me a father of sorts, but I can't recall myself ever doing something fatherly. I was just an asshole. I don't deserve to be called 'Dad' by any of these kids, especially not you, Y/N.

Yuugo.

"What do you know! If it ain't the loverboy." At the sound of Cozbi's voice,  Ray's nose promptly scrunched as if he'd smelled something foul.

"I thought we promised not to bring in stray animals," he said, his thinned eyes looking my way.

Cozbi laughed mockingly, stalking his way. They'd both grown taller, but Cozbi and her demon blood had grown by a higher mark, and she now stood taller than him by nearly a foot. Of course, had to make it clear just how big the difference was, as she propped her hands on her hips and leaned down to him. "The nice thing about strays is that they're used to living around garbage," she said smoothly, "So don't worry, I won't do anything about you being in my presence."

"Guys!" I complained, (though I found squabble mildly amusing despite myself). "Can't you get along, just for a day?"

Ray's squint flicked my way. "No, so I'll be in the library," he said, shooting one I see you glance Cozbi's way before pushing through the massive doors.

The demon girl soon plopped down on my bed; my room kept preserved with all of my things, for when I stayed for longer visits. "Why'd you settle for that?" she complained. "You should've just stayed here with me!"

I rested my chin on my hands, elbows propped on the soft comforter of a bed that was plenty big for the both of us. "Cozbi, you have a fiancé."

"And?" She crossed her arms, lower chin jutting out. "Aurelia wouldn't mind."

"I dunno, Cozbi. Last time she shot me, it was just for existing. Finding out you're two-timing with me might actually end with my head on a stake."

"Hey," she defended, "That was over a century ago! She was just a little confused!"

I gave a small laugh. "I know. How has she been, anyway? And you? Since you're never around, you've got a lot to catch me up on."

"Boy, do I have some good stories. But if I share, you're gonna have to share, too."

"Deal."

And so we lay together for hours, taking turns talking about our respective families and their shenanigans. It was a welcome break from daily life, and though her presence brought back all kinds of memories, most of them I recalled happily. Some of them we reflected on aloud together, laughing about our shared stupidity – especially that time I introduced myself to Zev with a Ligma Balls joke. 

Yeah, no matter how much I tried, I doubted that was ever going to fade from either of our memories.

Cozbi had just finished telling me about how Benny had accompanied her to a council meeting and made a total fool of themself, and I sighed through my giggles, my stomach muscles starting to ache. 

She turned to me with a small smile. "You know," she said, "I never really realized that the way you were before wasn't supposed to be the norm, even when you said it. I meant it, when I said you look happier."

I let out a long humming sigh. "To be honest, even I forgot that I wasn't supposed to be that way. So much so that it became the norm, and returning to this... modern life has been harder than expected."

"Hey, but at least they have flying cars, right?"

"Flying cars," I nodded my agreement. "But, the convenience stores are still the same."

"You know I don't know what either of those things are, right?"

"Oh just wait until I tell you about smartphones."

She reclined on the bed, propping her arms behind her head. "Y/N, can I tell you something?"

There was a change evident in her tone, and I perked at the sound, gaze flicking her way. "Sure."

Her eyes were trained on the canopy of my bed, as her mask lay at her side, adorned with various beads and designs that marked her as a leader. "My name... It isn't really Cozbi," she said. Though my face twitched in surprise, I remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "I mean, it is – I've been going by it for like seven centuries. But it's not the name I was given. I changed it."

She heaved a long sigh, as she appeared to be looking at something else; something distant, almost forgotten. "It's Idalia. My parents always told me it meant our light – Behold the dawn. Something along those lines. They told me by naming me that, it was hope for a new day – it was hope for my future. So when all of them had died, my parents and my brother, I couldn't bear to hear it anymore.

"I adapted a new one. Aurelia told me about it, actually. She read it in a book. Kozbi was regarded as a wicked woman, and her death ended God's display of wrath, or something along those lines. So I took it – maybe hoping that I could do the same for my clan; that their sufferings were the cause of The One as a punishment. I thought that maybe I could atone, somehow."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I folded my hands over my chest, staring at the ceiling. "It's a beautiful name; Idalia."

"Right? It doesn't suit me. That's why I'd rather go by Cozbi."

"Hey," I complained, rolling to my side. "Even if it was to kidnap me, you pulled me out of the hellish repetitive daily life I was in. You did become a hope of sorts for the future – a new dawn, you could say. God knows where I'd be if we hadn't met, but in all honestly? Probably dead in a ditch somewhere. So even if you don't like it, you can't just say it doesn't suit you."

She pushed my face away with one hand, covering the embarrassed purple blush across her blue-toned face with the other. "You can't just say things like that, asshole."

I pulled her hand away, grinning. "Yeah? Well it's payback, asshole."

She scoffed, propping herself up on her elbows. "What, for the kiss? Say, does the brat even know about that yet?"

"Shut up!" I hissed, as my eyes flicked to the door in a panic, making sure it wasn't open.

"Well, that's clearly a no," she muttered, her eyes widening. "What, don't tell me you haven't even... Oh my god. You haven't kissed him yet!?"

"That's not your business!"

"It's been two years on your side! Not even once?"

I grabbed one of the pillows, wrestling to smother her mocking laugh. "Fuck off!"

"Hey..." the door creaked open to none other than Ray, just my luck. "Mujika said to–" he closed the door to avoid getting a face-full of pillow. When he pushed the door open again, he looked at me cynically. "Mujika said to finish whatever you're doing and come for dinner."

I buried my face in an additional pillow, pointing at the door. "Get out!"

As soon as the door shut, Cozbi burst into peals of delighted laughter. "Of all the things you are, Y/N, I never thought you'd be a coward!" She continued howling delightedly even after I kicked her off of the bed. "I've seen you fight demons ten times your size without breaking a sweat, and you can't– you can't– Oh my god!"

My lip pulled up in a scowl as I stalked to the door. "If you don't stop, I'm eating your portion of dinner."

"Hey! That's just cruel!"

Dear Y/N,

March 22, 2049

I believe I'm one of the last to write a letter. The kids write you every week; detailing what it's been like at school, making new friends, and the like. I think they've got it in their heads that you see them, wherever you are. Little Sherry has been getting on my back about it some time now, so I figure I might as well – What harm could it do, you know?

Over a year has passed since we made it to this world. We have a house being built for us, and a steady income from numerous streams. The younger ones are just about done adjusting to this new life; the ones who never left the farms beforehand transitioned without a thought. It's been different for the littles in our family, the ones who escaped– frequently, they wake in cold sweats, their dreams hounded with nightmares of the things they've seen.

Isabella has been an unexpected godsend at those times. Though I don't believe I can ever wholeheartedly forgive her. She's a wonderful woman; kind, motherly; the children love her dearly. Though I've known for a long time she wasn't necessarily happy at Grace Field, and she did everything she could to keep us alive as long as possible – I hope she doesn't get me wrong, I'm forever grateful to her. But I don't think I'll ever be able to call her mother again.

Emma is doing well. She insists on never showing her hurt in front of the kids; in front of anyone, except on occasion, myself. In her mind, your death rests wholly on her shoulders – she was supposed to bear the weight of the reward all along; a burden she would bear gratefully in this timeline, too. But in her failings, it was you instead who bore a fate far worse than hers – that's how she sees it. Though she's moved forward; every day she spends happily with the children, relishing in her family, on occasion I catch her staring at empty spaces, at empty spots at the table, as if she could picture you there.

It's funny, though Ray is the eldest between us, I'd always felt more accustomed to the part. But in reflection now, I've realized that perhaps he always fit the part better than I. He was always cleaning up the messes Emma and I made in our youth; I would always follow her blindly into any shenanigan she proposed. He was good at keeping us out of trouble.

I suppose that's why I'm now so concerned. Upon our reunion way back when, I'd noticed that the roles had been swapped. Ray would follow you blindly wherever you may go, but at the time, I'd been too blinded by my rage to take a position to pull him – to pull you – back out of trouble. And now, it's too late for my intervention.

Ray always had a reputation of making plans quickly, but giving up on them just as fast. I've always felt this observation was off – on the contrary, the issue was that Ray just didn't have an interest in many things. Even when he read, it felt like he was gaining experience points, instead of doing something he enjoyed. In retrospect, he had been gearing up for death his whole life, so there was never a reason to find interests of joy, if he knew he'd lose them. But when he found a brief occupancy, something he was interested in, he was tenacious. He never gave up. That's why I can't fathom now that he has – not even as he wallows in misery, doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Doesn't speak. I fear it will destroy him; your loss. And the only one who could truly save him now would be you.

I can't think of anything to help; anything to pull him out of this despair he falls deeper into with each passing day. It's laughable. I'm supposed to be a genius.

I suppose in talking about the 'other two', as we have so been dubbed 'The Grace Field Trio', I should talk about myself. All things considered, I'm doing well. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that it's with an owl insignia I've built a company from scratch, with my friends at my side. We cover all sorts of things, ranging from medicine manufacturing and social welfare to engineering works and building construction. It's a useful sort of distraction – one I've managed to rope Ray into on occasion, when he hasn't locked himself in the basement library.

Ah, I've had to start another page. Perhaps there was more to talk about than I'd thought. I'll keep the rest short as I can.

I often lament on how little time we had together. It may be presumptuous to say that I'd always felt a kindred spirit in you, despite our minimal interaction. Perhaps it was something like a placebo effect – seeing your face reflecting mine had me subconsciously jumping to conclusions. I wonder about it, sometimes – how was it we are connected? Perhaps we are siblings; born of the same mother-in-training. Perhaps it was a coincidence; two clones somehow forming remarkably similar DNA. Or maybe we aren't even that similar genetically at all, and it was an entirely different combination of DNA that resulted in our similar appearance. In the end, it doesn't matter much, shared DNA or not. Regardless, though our time together was short, I see you as a sister in my memories.

One final thing before I give this letter away, to wherever the children are keeping their stash. I'd like to thank you. Every waking moment I now spend cherishing my time with my siblings. My life and yours has done well to teach me how quickly things should change. And though it was short-lived, I'd never seen Ray quite so happy as he was with you by his side. I pray he eventually recovers, and when he does, he looks back on those memories fondly.

With love,
Norman.

Though it was late spring in the demon world, as night fell, the air grew a tad chilly. We had to travel to Grace Field HQ from the capital city – thankfully, it wasn't a long distance to cover, especially on horseback. 

As Ray held onto the reins and I onto him, I couldn't help my mind wandering to Cozbi's word. A coward. I wasn't a coward, was I?

Perhaps I was. Things with Ray now were just so... okay. Gestures of affection, unspoken exchanges – sure, we hadn't put it into words yet, but it was more than enough for me. Just being by his side was enough, and I didn't want to risk losing that by making unnecessary moves. But maybe now I was comfortable enough in my place to stir a bit of mischief. Maybe I, as well as Mujika, was learning a thing or two from the demon girl.

"You know," I said, "A year ago, when I was saying goodbye, Cozbi kissed me."

Ray remained still, and my eyes thinned as I watched for a change in his demeanour. "Go figure," was all he said, and he appeared to remain indifferent, but I swear for a moment I felt him tense.

"Just thought I'd let you know," I hummed.

We soon arrived at Headquarters, our footsteps echoing through the long-since abandoned building. It was a little eerie without the lights, especially as nature been overtake the halls, vines climbing slowly through the windows and the pavement cracking with undergrowth. The Grace Field homes were no better off – Probably, we had another year in the Human world before they were completely erased.

It was a sobering thought; the gradual erasure of your past, but I suppose I knew it well. Seeing the human world now was both a reminder that my past once existed, and proof of its disappearance. Most cars are flying, but the convenience stores are still the same – My words to Cozbi summed it up almost completely. The human world now was so close to mine, yet its history was entirely different. It was pretty much an alternate universe. For example, the Promised Neverland Manga never existed, and nor did most name brands like Doritos or Coca Cola– (though they had remarkably similar replacements).

To any affect, living peacefully now gave me so much time to dwell on my memories; to recall things I had been slowly forgetting – family, friends, and my childhood home. To think that this first life, my original life, was such a small portion of my lifespan– hardly more than a tenth, in fact, as the life expectancy of humans had reached a century – it was a little bittersweet.

A hundred years old. The possibility of living that long alone was a new experience to me. I wonder, I thought, my eyes flicking to Ray, If he'll be with me then?

We submerged in the golden water, which reflecting spiralling lights all across the cave walls. As I exhaled bubbles from my nose, the whole pool started to shimmer, trembling just above our skin and clothes; never truly making contact.

When I opened my eyes, we stood in an alley, fresh snow dotting the ground. Cars passed by both on the road and overhead, as floating billboards played ads you could never skip. A little dystopian, that's for sure, but at least with the Ratris disassembled there was no corrupt government-style agency with their grubby hands fucking up everything.

Our breaths misted in the cold air, as Ray and I pulled our hands close to ourselves – medieval-style spring clothes offered little protection against the January air. We might've been a sight, pushing through the crowded streets dressed that way, but in fact, the occasional android passing by was a more impressive sight to those who cared to glance up.

With no money on our persons, it was a hassle to trek all the way back to the house, and though it wasn't the fault of the golden water, we were certainly soaked to the bone by the time we arrived. Though we had been transported here in late morning, the day now crept toward evening. 

Ray pressed in the pin while I tucked my hands under my arms, clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. He mumbled a few curses as the dexterity of his fingers had been sapped away by the cold, and it took a few tries to get the pin right.

We stepped into the hall, brushing snow from our shoulders, rubbing our arms so the warmth of the house might return heat to our limbs faster. "I hate that fucking demon," scoffed Ray through a shiver.

I nodded a miserable assent, blowing hot air into my fingertips. "You think X would be bored of it by now; making our lives living hell."

"Hey! You guys are back!" Don leaned over the railing, hand raised in a greeting, his lips tugging in a smirk. "You look like crap."

Ray crossed his arms over his chest, his teeth bared with a chatter. "It's cold!"

"Very cold," I agreed. "Too cold. Remind me why global warming hasn't killed winter yet?"

"Geothermal energy, the decarbonizing of the supply chain, stable food systems and the abolition of fast fashion."

"You know Ray," I replied, "having you around is like having a google home that never mishears you – or collects data for the government, for that matter."

His shoulders gave a small shrug. "Maybe I do work for the government."

"Uhuh," I said flatly, "You know, I would be inclined to believe that if I wasn't sure you're on a watchlist somewhere for potentially dangerous individuals."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well for one thing, your order history on Nile alone is probably enough to build a bomb or two," I offered – Meet bootleg Amazon that's actually better because it pays all of its workers a living wage.

Ray's lips pressed into a hum. "I suppose with the things I have on hand right now, I could probably make a few IEDs."

"See? That is exactly what I'm referring to."

While we stood in the front hall, dripping melting snow onto the hardwood floor, Gilda made tea, and soon called us into the kitchen. We took our place at the kitchen island, and my legs hooked around the stool. "So, how was it?" the motherly girl asked. "You've been missing about five hours, which is what... 15 days?"

"Three of those hours were walking here from the city," Ray said. "We were only there for a week."

I hummed out a proud little brag. "He caught me in five days!"

"Five?" Gilda beamed, her hands clapping together. "That's great! Is it getting easier?"

"No. I was just lucky."

"Heya!" Emma called as she strolled in, Norman following closely behind. "Good to see you! So how was it? And how's Mujika?"

"She's well! Every time I see her, she gets even more queenly, in a good way."

"Louise?" Norman asked.

"She misses you all," I hummed. "A sweetheart still, but honestly, she really enjoys being a pain in people's asses."

"She takes after you."

I jabbed my elbow into Ray's side as he grinned into his mug. "No," I said pointedly, "She's too nice to you. It's Sonju she takes after."

"No no," Norman countered, leaning on a hand he rested on the counter. "I see it."

My brows settled over my eyes in a glare. "What are you doing here, anyway, Mr. Workaholic? Aren't you usually busy this time?"

"Hey, I'm not that busy!"

"No no," Ray said, "You are."

As his jaw set in annoyance, Norman's expression mimicked my glare from moments earlier. "Fine then," His brow creased dramatically as he rubbed a hand across his nape. "I'll just stop working, and you can enjoy living on the street, because my company is the only thing paying our bills."

My eyes thinned at the thought, as I rested my chin on my interlaced fingers. "Very well. Onlyfans it is."

Ray choked on his tea. I could almost see Norman's mind crack and explode into a million different pieces, his soul temporarily excavating his body. I could hardly maintain my straight faced, deliberating expression, as he struggled to put comprehensive thought together. "Only... Onlyfa..."

"She's joking, Norman, joking!" Emma pleaded.

"She's got two years before she can do that legally anyway!" Gilda added.

"Only two–"

My shoulders shook with the effort of containing my laughter, as I placed my head in my hands. "Calm down, Norman," I said through suppressed giggles. "I have no need for Onlyfans. I'd sooner settle on MMA fights or something."

Gilda slammed her hands down on the table, a dark aura exuding from behind her glasses. "That's such a waste of your visual aesthetics! You should get into modelling instead!"

I groaned – this was a conversation we'd had many times before. "I've already modelled a few of your collections..."

"If you tried," she complained, "You could be on the cover of Mode! You too, Norman!"

"But I was already on the cover of the 2049 edition..."

Gilda's head whipped his way, as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. "That was because you were the youngest self-made millionaire at 15!"

"Isn't that a good reason...?"

Even I knew about that cover picture. It still made the rounds on the internet, to this day. Everybody and their mother had heard of Norman Grace, the teen mutli-millionaire – would-be billionaire if he didn't pay all of his workers above the living wage and donate half his proceeds to various nonprofits and charities. Despite the fact that he rarely made appearances in the media intentionally, hundreds of unbridled simp posts were made daily, candid shots taken of him when he's in public. It's certainly an experience I never thought I'd have; seeing that happen to a sibling. But Norman seemed to find it amusing, at least. I certainly didn't think I'd be able to handle swathes of people asking me for a picture every time I wanted to take a walk – I especially wouldn't be able to act polite and civil.

It's a bit of a miracle his crazed fans hadn't found out about me yet. Every time someone in the family, present in the media, was found out to be connected to him – Take Gilda and her fashion business, or Anna and her ground-breaking medicine discoveries – their fame was boosted by the thousandth, headlines published within minutes reading, Meet the relatives of the youngest millionaire! or, The Grace Family does it again!

It was like being a Kardashian, but you were famous for a genius sibling instead your mom leaking your sibling's sex tape. Hell, we could probably have had our own reality TV series by now. I was sure Norman's receptionist turned down reality TV show offers by the hour.

By now, it was a miracle the paparazzi hadn't found where we live - the mild seclusion in the mountains, and the fact we didn't hire any house staff certainly helped. But it wouldn't surprise me if any day now, pictures of our front gates start being published on the news, captions reading, See the house of the Grace Family! Estimated 500 million dollar property! or whatever.

Even in this alternate universe, with an additional extra 30 years ahead of mine, the media and their little respect for privacy had hardly changed.

"Hey Y/N! Ray! You're back!" Poppy called as she strolled into the kitchen. "I'm gonna get everyone on dinner duty in here."

Since I'd returned, Poppy had volunteered to be a part of food preparation every day, as she'd set her sights on wanting to cook for a living. She'd said, Families who eat together, stay together, and wanted to open a restaurant that provided that cozy atmosphere that eating at home had, while also having the most affordable prices possible – like a pay what you can type deal. She was now using our kitchen as a construction site for menu items she was testing on the family. 

"Now get out, so I can start prep! Out, out!" She shooed us out like unwanted rodents, and set my half-empty mug of tea in my hands before promptly closing the door behind us.

"Well," Norman said, "I suppose I might as well go check my email."

"Workaholic," I muttered.

"Gym rat," he cut back.

"At least I don't struggle trying to open a pickle jar."

"I don't need to," Norman retorted. "See, there are a sea of people who would beg to open my pickle jars for me. In fact, with a single post on social media, I could completely abolish the market for pickle jars. I know, I'll have them stored in cartons, like milk. How would you like that, Y/N? Carton pickles?"

My eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know what, Norman? I'd eat them just to spite you."

"You guys are going to scare the children," Emma pleated. "And Norman, no carton pickles."

Norman's intense demeanour was tamed in an instant, like some sort of domesticated beast. "Of course, Emma. I was only fooling around."

My nose wrinkled. "Simp," I said, just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyebrows raised in a way that read, Oh yeah?, he wrapped an arm around Emma and leaned down, pecking her on the cheek. The girl reacted with a little smile, not minding the sudden PDA at all. When he turned back to me, Norman's ice-blue gaze was mocking, and it flicked Ray's way briefly. I'd like to see you try that. Oh, you can't can you? Wimp.

Well fuck, I puffed out my cheeks in annoyance, He's got me there. Taking a second to flip him off, I made a tactical retreat, making my way to my room. It was on the third floor of the house, a room that belonged to one of the once Grace Field mothers who moved out shortly before I returned. The hall was predominantly divided between the younger kids and adults. The hall above me held most of the Goldy Pond kids, and directly below me was Ray's room.

I changed out of the tunic and long pant-skirt of the demon world and into some of my own clothes. Often to Gilda, Gillian, and even Anna's dismay, most of my closet was things I had stolen. Most belonged to Zack and Oliver, but there was also some Poppy and Don, some Pepe, Nigel, Sandy, Gillian, and of course, a few of Ray's shirts.

They just kind-of... ended up in my possession. Sometimes pulled from the clean laundry, sometimes given as they were grown out of or not liked enough to keep. It made for a closet of mostly men's clothes, often far too big for me – but if you're not drowning in fabric, is it really a shirt? The only things that truly fit me right were things Gilda all but begged me to own, which turned out to be worth it – her athleisure line was really frickin comfortable.

By the time I was finished, dinner was ready, and people were starting to gather in the mess hall. As I passed by the front door, Yuugo pushed it open, carting around a group of kids. His face was sagging in exhaustion, as a brightly-smiling Lucas trailed behind.

"Dad," I greeted in amusement. After reading his letter, I was always sure to refer to him that way – sometimes Father when he was pissing me off, or Pops when I wanted to make fun of him for being old. "You certainly look delightful. How was the park?"

"Terrible," he muttered, stuffing his coat on the closet. "These two brats decided it was an ideal time to unlock their inner authoritarians and reign over the parkgoers."

"Their lives benefited from our reign!" A girl called Milly said. She was seven, the youngest of the plant 3 Grace Field kids. In fact, the youngest of the farm kids were now four, turning five.

Even Jemima and Alicia were eleven now – the same age Ray was when I first met him, which really put things in perspective. They were on the verge of completing a secondary school education as they balanced their life with studying and getting along with kids their age.

"You were at the demon world, right?" Lucas asked, pulling me in for a quick half-hug. "How was it?"

"Good! It only lasted five days, so we figured we had time for two more."

Yuugo's nose wrinkled at the thought, blowing some hair from his face - which had gained several grey strands lately. "I think it's creepy," he said. "You could live out a whole lifespan there and not even two years would pass."

"That's what I've been saying! I've been back in this world for almost six hours, and over two weeks have passed over there!"

"I think it's cool," Lani said, shrugging past us in the hall. The little shit was taller than me now, even with his blonde hair spiked close to his head. "You don't age there, so you could go live there for a hundred years and then live a few years here and then go back and live there."

Thoma's lips pursed into a frown – he, too, was taller than me. I was starting to think I needed to invest in an array of heels and or platform boots. Ah, but maybe 12-inch heels would impede my ability to move too much. Then again, tape exists. Plus, with the right practice, I'm sure I could manage at least a jog in no time... "I don't believe the human mind is predisposed to process that amount of information," Thoma said. "It's not designed to last for longer than one lifespan."

"Predisposed?" I said, breaking out of my high-heel dilemma. "Who talks like that!?"

"Our biology professor."

"Yeah, we're auditing her university lectures."

"What the fuck?" I recoiled. "How old are you!?"

"Don't swear in front of the kids, brat!" Yuugo snapped.

I crossed my arms, rolling my eyes. "Says the reason Carol curses like a drunken sailor every time she makes a mistake."

"Come on guys," Lucas stepped between us before we could get any further. "Let's calm down before you decide to settle it with another sparring match. Yuugo, dear, you don't want to throw out another hip."

"Don't treat me like I'm old! I'm not even in my forties!"

My eyebrows shot up gleefully. "Yeah, Lucas, you should treat him like a toddler– since that's how he acts."

"This fucking–"

I slipped into the dining room before he could retaliate, ducking into the swaths of people heading to their seats. A massive room to accommodate a massive family, the seating was split up into several round tables like you might see at a banquet. It was Poppy's suggestion to change from the long, rectangular dining tables we'd grown accustomed to – sitting in circles made it easier to share food and to talk with more than just one person across from you. 

Much like at Grace Field and the other farms, a random group of kids, determined by a schedule set up at the beginning of each month, would be picked to help make the food, and another to help disperse it. Today, I was part of neither group, so I settled down at my spot as dinner was being served.

I understood well what Poppy meant by the importance of eating together – It was something even Mujika and Sonju pressed. To say food tastes better when you're with others may be cheesy, but I thought it held some level of truth. It was one of those things you didn't realize was true until you lost it, and now, I relished every moment spent in that dining hall, despite the noise, and despite the insurmountable mess it caused.

The dishes, the crumbs, the grease handprints on the walls – yeah, it certainly felt insurmountable. But thankfully, with everyone helping, it didn't take so long. It was pleasant, even, as the radio played a mash of songs mixed from everyone's tastes, and various conversations filtered throughout the room.

By the time dinner was finished, the younger kids would already be preparing for bed, and would be sleeping soundly within the hour. Everyone else split up – Anyone legal age would occasionally go out for some casual clubbing or light drinking, but aside from that, the house was big enough you could go without seeing anyone until breakfast the next morning.

I would sometimes kill time walking to the city with a group of friends. We'd stash up on snacks, and then spend the evening binging TV shows or movies from my era – some of which still existed in this alternate universe of Earth. Other times, they showed me their latest favourites – though three decades hadn't done much for the way the media functioned, nor its content, the way it was presented in film and other mediums was certainly different. It was interesting, and admittedly, a little hard to get used to.

Ray either tagged along or spent time in his office of sorts, which was packed high and low with little bits of machinery he tinkered with for fun – he tended to take apart preexisting machines and then put pieces back together to make different things. Engineering seemed a passion of his, and a significant portion of the house was outfitted with silly little inventions he made; little toys for the kids, motion-sensing doors, an iced Frappuccino maker in the kitchen – all sorts of things. In addition, he now oversaw the engineering part of Norman's company, and seemed to get something good out of taking away some of Norman's burden and organizing and overseeing projects that were within his area of expertise.

I often liked to kill time in there with him, watching him work while I absently read or doom scrolled on social media, casting the occasional glances his way. He would sometimes do the vice-versa, accompanying me to the dojo with one of his projects, where during the day I often taught others mixed martial arts for fun. I'd considered once or twice opening a dojo in the city and teaching more than just the family. Holding self-defence classes for women was definitely something on my to do list.

Aside from that, I too had taken a small role at Norman's company – a role that had been gradually growing in two years – its public relations. Despite spending what, six years away from it, I still seemed to have the best grasp of social media out of anyone in the family. It was pretty fun, being able to dick around on such a professional, high-regarded account, but on occasion, it also meant hosting formal events for the board of directors and competitors we intended to have good relationships with. Now, that one was a doozy. I'd had to learn a lot about that – a lot of which came from Vincent, who always managed to get on my nerves – but I appeared to be getting the hang of it, which was just in time for an event coming up in the next couple of months. I did also have to attend to make sure things went smoothly, which meant Gilda and Anna were taking me out shopping for formal clothes next week. It also that the media would probably get hold of my existence, but I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.

"Goodnight, everyone!"

"Night!"

As the others began to retire for the night, I made my way back to my room. A massive stack of letters sat on my floor, beside a large empty box. It had taken me until yesterday to get through them all – some kids had written once daily for several months, while others had only written one or two total.

I knelt by the box and pulled it open, preparing to stack letters back in, when I noticed something at the bottom. Tucked beneath one of the flaps was a letter I missed. As I leaned to scoop it out, I tucked a portion of hair behind my ear.

There was no envelope, just a folded piece of paper, and it was addressed to no one. I plopped down on the edge of my bed as I unfolded it. Lit only by the cool moonlight filtering through my windows, I recognized the hand the letter was written in almost immediately.

I often try to reflect on the day my feelings changed, but I don't think there was a moment in particular. It was a gradual shift, starting with something akin to annoyance, followed by curiosity, and then to some sort of... need. I do however know the day I became aware of the change.

I'm surprised it wasn't Goldy Pond that knocked it into me, but I suppose at the time I was a bit too preoccupied worrying about whether or not we'd survive. It wasn't right after that, either, when I confronted you about what you'd meant by 'someone like me.' No, it was a relatively normal day, all things considered. I'm sure you don't even remember it now.

We were searching for the golden water and the temple you'd seen in your vision with The One. Our group was weary with the pretty much non-stop travel, and we'd just finished searching the entirety of the Eastern side, and every location turned out a bust. We were on our way back to the shelter to regroup before searching the West end, and as night fell, we'd set up camp.

When you woke me up for my turn on watch, and your eyes tugged low with fatigue, you mumbled something along the lines of, 'Get your ass up.' And you took my place against the tree trunk, and within seconds had fallen asleep.

That was it. That was when I knew – knew it was different from the way I felt about anyone else. Stupid, I know. But I took my spot further down the branch, casting frequent glances over my shoulder to check on you. And at that time, I knew I would stay up the whole night if it meant you could keep sleeping.

I think I'm losing my mind. Every time I wake up, there's this brief moment of peace, where I forget you're not here. But it all comes rushing back a second later – that relief, torn away in an instant. The following second reminds me of how I used to feel when I was younger, like I had nothing to live for. And it scares me  – I never wanted to feel that way again. So I don't sleep anymore. I've started to hallucinate from the insomnia. I hear voices, I see shadows flit across my vision, and every time, without fail, I mistake it for you. But still, I can't get to sleep at night. 

My intellect has always been a source of my pride. It was something I worked hard to build. But now I'm going crazy, which as you can imagine, isn't very pleasant.

I confronted Yuugo the other day. I told him I knew you were alive. I think it's the lack of sleep, but I've become so utterly convinced in my denial that you're still out there. He thinks I'm out of my mind, too. So he pulled out a letter you wrote. Hayato read it to everyone. Listing out their dreams, and telling them to fulfil them. Mine was in there, too. I've no idea how you found out about that. Seeing the Mona Lisa or the Sagrada Familia was a dream of mine once, I guess. But I can't bring myself to go along on their dream-fulfilling escapade. I couldn't care less about seeing either of those things right now.

Yuugo gave me a seperate letter, too. It's from you. I can't open it. That's why I'm writing you instead, now. Because I don't know what I'm doing. And I don't know what to do. For the first time in my life, I'm completely and utterly lost. So I've started doing the only thing I really know. I'm learning. About the Ratris. About Mike Ratri in particular. Everything I can get my hands on.

I know you're not here, in this world. I don't trust Mike Ratri, but I know he's done everything he can to find you. Norman has his own people everywhere, too, though he's tried to do it without me noticing. They've checked all of the forbidden zones; no sign. But your promise left a loophole. A way to get back over there.

There's a chance you're in that realm: no matter how slim, I can't just let it go. Even if it means I end up trapped in the demon world forever. If it comes to it, I'll make another promise with The One to bring you back. Even if it costs me my life. I don't care, at this point. I've made up my mind.

See you soon.

I love you.

Ray.

The house felt sickeningly quiet.

I'd read every letter in that box, letters from everyone who knew me – who was affected by my loss. They told me I didn't need to read them – that they were in the past, that they were embarrassing, that they never really thought at the time that I'd see it. But I had to – I had to get a glimpse of what I'd done. I had to process their grief in order to move on. I had to process my own. 

But here was Ray's. It was a grief he'd been so careful to avoid letting me see.

I'd almost fully moved on by now. But sometimes, in reading the letters, that guilt would start to fester. That was why I couldn't bear touching that box, some days. Why I couldn't bear to look at the letters. Norman's in particular had taken me out for a month. I could picture them quietly suffering so clearly in his words. I could see Ray, wasting slowly away. Dying.

He was alive now. The depression had all but fully disappeared, and he had been sleeping consistently for over a year. But I still saw it in his eyes, sometimes, when his circles grew dark, when he got so wrapped up in his projects he forgot to eat. I saw that kid I almost killed.

I had to see him now. 

An urgent, irrational fear propelled me from my room, silently so as to not disturb any who might be sleeping. I slipped downstairs like a shadow, my heart pounding in my ears. Standing outside of Ray's door, I raised my fist. 

Hey, a voice inside me said, what if he's asleep?

Then I'll wake him up.

I just had to make sure. Call it paranoia, call it PTSD, whatever you want. It was unreasonable, but for a moment, my heart fluttered irregularly with fear. I could not wholeheartedly believe Ray was okay until I confirmed it with my own eyes.

It took four seconds for the door to open after I knocked, and Ray filled the doorway, a mildly perturbed look about him. A damp towel hung around his shoulders, and his hair was droopy, still collecting water on the ends. 

I let out a silent breath of relief, but just as quickly realized that I was now just standing in his doorway. "Uh," I said, feeling quite dumb, "Have you seen Mary Shelly's Frankenstein lying around?"

Ray's brows drew together before he stepped deeper into the room, rubbing the towel across his head before tossing it to the floor. He dragged a finger across one of the bookshelves before locating the hardcover copy, and walked it back over. "So..." he said once the book was in my hands, "What are you really here for?"

My gaze slid away. Damn you, I thought.

His eyes flicked down to my hands, where I still held the letter unfolded, pinched between my thumb and the book. "Oh." He recognized it, and just as fast, deduced it to be the reason for my sudden appearance. "That... I forgot about that."

I held the letter out to him. "I figured. You can, uh... have it back?"

"Yeah." He took the letter and set it on one of the shelves. 

It was funny, a year or two ago, it might have made one (or both of us) cry. But we'd spent a lot of time resolving those issues, and aside from the initial panic – trauma response, whatever – it was now just a source of awkwardness.

"You, uh... You wanna talk about it...?"

I gave a wry laugh. "Not particularly." Still, anxiety still clawed desperately at my gut, searching for a hold. I rubbed a hand against my nape. Despite having no real reason to stay, I didn't want to leave.

"Then," Ray gestured toward his desk, piled high with little bits and bobs. "You want to see something?"

My interest was peaked in an instant. "What'd you make?" I set down the book as I followed him deeper into his room. There was a small space cleared amidst the junk on his desk, and Ray quickly took a seat and finished putting back together whatever it was.

"I'd seen them a bit online," he explained, "But I wanted to try my own hand at making one... there!" He set down the little tools in his hands and picked up a fitbit type thing – black in colour. "Put it on," he said, as he shuffled through some drawers. "It works mostly like a smartwatch, but it's got its own special feature..."

The thing on my wrist buzzed a series of buzzes, varying in length. "Test?" I echoed – My morse code was a little rough, but I was fairly certain of that translation.

Ray's face broke in a little grin as he held up a matching watch thing, this one coloured white. "This one just needs a few more finishing touches. But if you press and hold the side button, you can tap morse code messages between them, as long as you have cell service. Just for fun."

I took the other watch from him, turning it over my hand. "What the hell'd you take apart to make these?"

"A... lot of things," he said, taking it back. "A lot of stuff with technology that's patented – I didn't alter it enough to be able to put it on the market, so there's just these two... Oh, if you'd prefer the white one, I can finish it now..."

I pulled my wrist away from his grabby hands. "Pardon you! I like this one. But you should finish that one now, anyway. I wanna try it too."

He leaned back in his chair, puffing out his cheeks. "It'll take a few minutes."

"I can wait."

"Maybe more than a few minutes..."

My face pulled into a pout of mock offence. "Well, if you want me out of your room so bad, you should just say so."

"That's not..." He heaved a brief sigh. "I was planning to finish the charging ports tonight, too..."

"I don't mind waiting," I said again, reaching for Frankenstein before plopping down on the edge of his bed. "I've got the wonderfully homoromantic narratives of Walton and Victor to keep me company."

"If that's fine with you."

While my eyes skimmed over the novel, my anxiety gradually subsided as I stole glances his way. Ray remained intently focused on his project, lit only by his worklamp, his brows furrowed and the tip of his tongue protruding from his lips. He didn't look up once until it he was fully finished, after about an hour or two.

He put the other watch on his own wrist as he sat by the edge of the bed. "Can I see it?" I held out my hand for him while he made a few adjustments – adjusting the diameter of the strap, which was a bit too big for me. It was an odd little detail, how my wrists were a centimetre or two narrower than his. Not long ago, it felt to me, there wouldn't have been a noticeable difference at all.

It was a reminder that we weren't children anymore – Ray hadn't just grown taller, his shoulders had broadened, his voice had deepened (and no longer cracked hilariously, which was a shame), and, to my frustration, he retained a slight muscular build despite hardly ever doing anything to maintain it.

It was just a tad infuriating. My genetics just did not support muscle growth like his did – in order to bulk I'd have to eat thrice as much and exercise twice as hard – hence why Norman still gets knocked around by five year olds. Yet here Ray's ass was, holed up in his room 24/7 and still able to hold his own in one of my workouts. Bull. Shit.

"Is there a reason you're glaring at me?"

I squinted up at him. "Because your biceps are bigger than mine."

"That's not..." he looked down at his arms and then back to me, trailing off.

"Hey!" I complained, "That's when you're supposed to disagree. Like, No, Y/N, your biceps are wayyy bigger than mine! – Like that. Try it."

He let out a hum. "You know, I was raised to believe honesty is virtue."

"Oh yeah?" I retorted, raising a threatening fist. "I was raised to beat up people who pissed me off." 

"Nooo Y/N," he said, raising his hands above his head in defence. "Your biceps are way bigger than mine. Now would you please sit still so I can finish this thing before morning?"

I leaned back on my other hand, rolling my eyes. "Only because you asked nicely."

I watched him work as my hand rested in his. Much like our wrists, my hands were smaller, yet his hands were far softer than mine. On top of the many calluses, my palms were littered with scars, splattered with fading pink marks from Goldy Pond and a thick line from my trips to Day and Night. Smaller were the little mistakes dashing across my knuckles, from times I'd accidentally mishandled one of my knives, which occurred more often than I'd like.

Apart from my hands, these reminders covered my body, some larger than others, some faded more white than pink. Though the largest were often concealed by my clothes, the one by my collarbone occasionally poked through the collars of my shirts.

I didn't like them much. Rather, I didn't like them at all. They would throb sometimes with a phantom pain, some worse than others. And as I thought about it now, the marks on my hand started to tingle, a burning itch I couldn't scratch. As they began to shake, and Ray glanced up from what he was doing with the watch.

"Okay?" he asked. I nodded. "Your scars?"

"Yeah." He knew about it – though it happened rarely, the tremors were hard to conceal. I gave an irritated sigh, flexing my fingers and clenching it into a fist. "A pain in my ass," I muttered. 

"I'm sure," Ray hummed. His touch was cool on my skin, refreshing, as he turned my hand over and unfolded my fingers from my palm. His thumb traced idly across the scar that etched a line between my forefinger and thumb and across my hand. For two or so years, with my trips to Day and Night, the wound there had not really been allowed to fully heal. The scar would never really fade. 

I let out a small sigh, rolling my head to one side. "I could get them revised... The technology is good."

"Do you want to?" Ray hummed.

My shoulders gave a little shrug. "I dunno. I don't like the reminders, or the pain... But they're kind of... A part of me, you know?"

"I suppose..." Ray said. "For me? They're reminders of every time I failed. Yeah, it's painful. But at the same time... What's that thing you say? Bruised, but not broken?" His head tilted to one side, his bang sliding away from his face. "It's kind of like us. Scarred, but still healing. It's a reminder of how far we've come, or that's how I see it... But they're on you, not me. So if they bother you, you should get rid of them."

Lord help me, I looked back down to my lap, closing my eyes, I am so in love with this boy.

So kiss him. Like a devil on my shoulder, Cozbi's voice rang in my head. I irked. WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR TWO SECONDS. I felt Ray's hand brush against my cheek as he pushed some hair from my face. And then, before I quite knew what was happening, he kissed me.

My breath halted so suddenly, it was as if he stole the air from my lungs.  And as he pulled away and avoided my gaze, all I could think at first was, You've got to be fucking kidding me. 

"Hey," I said, jabbing a finger into his collarbone, trying to keep my face from splitting in a grin. "That wasn't just to one-up Cozbi, was it? Because for the record, two years, and you've only just tied."

He muttered under his breath, his eyes still averted. "Not tied... technically..."

My brows drew together – clearly, he knew something I didn't. "What's that?"

"A technicality," he said a little clearer. "Goldy Pond." He leaned forward until he rested his elbows on his thighs. "You don't remember. You were unconscious, and I was checking your temperature, and bam!" he smacked a hand into his face. "You flung awake. Was out within seconds again. But it freaked the hell out of me anyway."

My mouth hung open before I dissolved suddenly into laughter, rolling back on the bed. "Oh my god! That's what that 'Ohthankgod' thing was about!?" I tried to stifle the cackle with my hand to keep from waking the whole house, but Ray's expression was too much. "That's amazing! Oh, I can't breathe."

As he leaned over me, his lips were pressed in a thin line. "You shouldn't laugh like that. It was a very pressing matter for 12-year-old me."

I took me a minute to get a handle on my giggles. "Since we're on the topic," I said, "You know that time at the Minerva hideout, when you, Emma, Norman, and I stayed up playing chess? In the morning..." I covered my face with my hands. "I woke up before you did."

"You were..." It took a moment before it clicked, a proverbial lightbulb going off over his head. "WHAT!? So you were just – Are you kidding me!?"

Giggles bubbled again from me, as I was unable to contain them. "I didn't know what to do!"

"That doesn't mean –" He grabbed at my wrists, trying to pry them away from my face. "Are you kidding!?"

"No!" I guffawed, putting up a fight before finally releasing my hands from my face, my laughter subsiding into delighted sighs. "Don't be so upset about it..." I said, "You have such a cute sleeping face. The way you rubbed your eyes was –" Pushing my hands back onto my face, Ray effectively cut me off.

"Are you done?"

"No," I snickered through my hands, taking in one last sigh. "Okay, maybe."

As Ray released me, I could see his face again – his lips pressed in a thin line, a deep blush painting his ears red. "Is there anything else I should know about?" he grumped.

I tapped my chin idly. "Not off of the top of my head. You?"

He considered it for a moment. "I don't believe so."

"That's good," I hummed, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. "But you know what? That Goldy Pond thing was a fluke. I don't count it."

"You don't, do you?" he echoed.

"No," I booed rather sadly. "Which means you're still tied."

"Oh," he said, "Well, that's a shame." He gave a small shrug like, What can you do? but he couldn't commit to the part so long before his face split into one of his teasing, lopsided smirks. "You're asking me to kiss you?"

"Oh, you picked up on that, did you?" I mocked.

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly, "I'm pretty good at that stuff, you know."

I rolled my eyes, pushing his hair from his face. "Just kiss me, idiot."

Face splitting in a grin, he did. This time at least, when he pulled away, he didn't immediately avert my gaze. However, he did feel it necessary to say, "Are you going to tell Cozbi about that one?"

I jabbed him in the stomach and he crumpled, rolling to the side. "You're seriously thinking about that right now? Why don't you go kiss her, then. That's one way to one-up her."

Ray's head shot up from the pillows, face pulled in a disgusted disbelief. "Don't even suggest that!"

"Then don't ask about her after we kiss!"

"You did it first!"

"It was relevant!"

It's a good things the walls of the house were thick, and soundproofed in many parts, else I'm certain our bickering would've woken everyone up by now.

"Fine then," Ray huffed, "No Cozbi after kissing."

"Or before kissing, either," I added.

"But what if," he rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand. "Hypothetically speaking, I were to kiss you in front of her?"

"Hypothetically," I said, "I think it would end in a fist-fight and one of you dead."

Ray considered the thought. "I suppose, hypothetically, I can see that."

"But," I offered, "We can kill two birds with one stone with the vice-versa. Hypothetically."

"What like, you kiss me?"

"Yeah," I said, "Like this." Grasping the collar of his shirt, I pulled him in close for another slow kiss. "See?"

It took Ray a moment to gather his senses. He inhaled sharply. "You do realize in the past twenty minutes we've kissed 300% more than we have in two years of non-dating-dating?"

"Well," I said, releasing the slightly stretched-out collar of his shirt, "Maybe as of twenty minutes ago, we should be dating-dating."

He lay onto his back, folding his hands across his chest. "I don't see why not. But what is the difference, even?"

"Hell if I know," I laid back, my head hitting the cool pillows. "Kissing, I guess. Dates, sometimes?"

"Dates?" he hummed. "Where to?"

"I dunno. Cafes? Book stores? Amusement parks? Wherever you feel like going."

He gingerly pulled my hand between us, lacing his fingers with mine. "Let's go soon, then. Tomorrow?"

"Sure."

So we spent some time planning future dates – all the places we wanted to visit together now as a couple-couple instead of a not-couple-couple. As the night wore on, I started to feel sleep creep into my limbs, tangled in his blanket.

"You know," Ray said, poking a finger into my cheek. "If you fall asleep in here, someone's gonna find out."

I squinted at him, pushing his hand away as I fought a yawn. "Most definitely."

"And if Yuugo finds out, it's me who's going to get all the shit."

With a huff I stood, swinging my legs off the bed. "Well, if you want me out of you room so bad, you should just say so." I rose to my feet, but I didn't get very far before his arm snagged across my waist and pulled me back down.

"I hate when you do that..." he mumbled.

"Then you should say what you mean instead of just complaining," I replied.

His lips tugged into a sleepy pout that almost had me melting right then and there. "I like complaining."

"I know," I smiled, tucking his bangs behind his ear so I could see both of his dark forest green eyes. "You never read my letter," I hummed. "Do you want to know what was in it?"

His eyes narrowed as his face scrunched together in thought. "No," he decided. "It was in the past. And probably sad."

"Yeah," I agreed, "probably sad. But the most important thing in it was that I love you."

"I know," He was blinking long and slow as I rested my forehead against his, his voice thick with fatigue. "I love you too."

"I know."

We fell asleep that way, tangled in each other's limbs – knowing we'd most definitely get shit for it tomorrow. But it was a sacrifice well worth the reward, as that night, we both got the most restful night of sleep we probably ever had.

• 

I hope you all get someone like that, if you don't have it right now  – A parent, a relative, a friend, or a partner who brings you so much peace falling asleep is never a conscious effort in their presence. If you don't have it quite yet, then I hope this ending is nice enough it follows you to a full night of sleep tonight – or tomorrow night, if you're reading this at an ungodly hour.

Yes, this fic ending is bittersweet. It's a little surreal – three years of my life right here. In the beginning, I used to get home from school, write until dinner, and then after dinner, edit and publish a chapter. Every day, over a thousand words a day, for weeks. It was my life. And I know it was that way for some of you.

I want to take the time to thank you for reading. Whether you've been with me since day one, or if you've just binged this entire thing in a day or two – Hi. My name is Anna. Some of you know me better than others. I'm now 17 as of February 2023. RITPN saved my life, no joke. And I never would've been able to get so far without all of you and your support.

Thanks for joining me on this journey. I'd love to be able to say it wasn't really ending, but all good things must come to an end, someday. Yes, I will be posting the prologue for the Rewrite as I publish this now. (The rewrite is the redone ver. of RITPN that I'm writing in my free time). However, that is not the sort of project I intend to finish. It'd be nice if I do, certainly, but it's not my priority – it can't be.

It's daunting. I'm getting older. I have to start thinking about making money and going to university. So the rewrite will be a very side project that I work on when I have nothing else to do – Don't get me wrong, I'd certainly like to finish it, someday. Maybe I'll even make some bonus oneshot chapters or something for this fic, when I feel sad about it being over– but that's most definitely not a promise, lol.

In the meantime, I'll look back on these memories fondly. I truly love these characters – Y/N is a part of me at this point. It's stupid, but I feel like I grew up with her. Just like I grew up with this community.

Thanks for everything, guys. I love you.

Bonuses:

Rewrite Prologue published! First chapter coming soon.

Link in comments here

That's all from me! Have a nice day <3