All my Friends, This is the End. [Chapter 6: end]
injury tw (mentioning the ones from the execution), death tw, dismemberment tw (brief mention)
So. It was all over.
For him, anyways. Heād been executed. It had been.... rough, Junpei would admit, although he hadnāt really surprised. He had figured that the mastermind would be quite angry at him for the betrayal- but then again, wasnāt that what traitors did? Heād rather successfully managed to stab everyone in the back to at least some degree, so a brutal execution was to be expected.
When heād first opened his eyes after dying, heād assumed heād jumped. After all- he could never remember being a ghost. Whenever heād died, it was simply as if his existence.... faded. He just stopped 'beingā, as the darkness crept up and pulled him into a comforting nothingness. So, itād been natural to assume the same had happened there, right?
Except heād looked, heād seen his own blood, and heād seen all of them.
Heād thrown his hood up as soon as he realized that he was dead- if the others were anything to go by, that would likely mean his own body still reflected what itād looked like when heād died. While itād been quick, he still figured that the back of his skull would not be pleasant to look at.... not that the rest of him looked too pretty, either.
Naturally, heād wanted to get away. After all- they shouldāve all hated him, right? He was as culpable as the mastermind, regardless of the fact that heād wanted to stop the game- he was the reason all of them were here, like this.
And yet before he could leave, Mugman had thrown his arms around him and kissed him, and every wall Junpei couldāve possibly tried to throw up crumbled in an instant.
Everything seemed to move quickly after that, Junpei unsure of what really to say or do once everyone had filed out of the trial room. Heād followed the others, staying near Mugman for a while... but eventually, he needed space. He needed to have at least a little time to be alone.
He wasnāt thinking when he walked, simply wandering aimlessly through the park until he realized that his feet had brought him to the ride- the ride where Mugman had died. Where everything had gone so wrong, so fast.
Of course he wouldnāt show it, but his shoulder was screamingĀ in pain. Not just from the bullet, probably still in there- but the axe had further fucked his shoulder up quite seriously. The only reason he hadnāt been showing a ton of pain for that entire week had been the painkillers, and the fact that heād died before. It was easy to tolerate things when he could compare it to being literally stabbed, or having his arm cut off. Easy to pretend like every little movement hadnāt been hurting, especially as time went on and the poorly-done patch-job started to show wear.
After a few moments, his legs gave out and he slid to the ground, body weak. His left arm slumped to the side, bloodied and mostly useless at the moment, his back screamed in pain, and he had the worst headache of his life. Or.... un-life, perhaps. After all, he had died.
He didnāt really know how to feel right now.
On the one hand- he felt like heād failed, completely and utterly. Heād known that the trial wouldnāt be able to end things so simply, but heād still hoped that perhaps, he could figure somethingĀ out. But he hadnāt. And yet.... despite that, he couldnāt say it had been completely in vain. Every single plan heād come up with had broken down completely, he couldnāt say a single thing had really gone how heād wanted it to, but.. he was glad theyād dragged the truth out of him. He was glad they hadnāt let things rest.
It was selfish, really. Selfish to want to be able to tell the truth, after so much time of lying. Selfish for him to want his final act to be so cleanly struck down. But still, he was glad. Glad that they knew the truth, glad that heād been able to reassure them the best he could... and praying that theyād be able to overcome what remained.
He knew he couldnāt tell anyone who the mastermind was, still. It didnāt matter if he wasnāt around them anymore- he couldnāt. There was still too much at stake. He had no promise that Oswald wouldnāt be listening, and he would fully believe that the mastermind would still be willing to kill them all purely from spite- it was too dangerous. He couldnāt let the rest of them die, too.
Hero complex, or just a coward? He didnāt really know- but at this point, it didnāt really matter anymore. He was dead, and his role in this game was over. There were people who he wouldnāt be able to apologize to, people who he regretted not talking to before heād gone to help the mastermind... people who he wouldnāt ever be able to talk to now. Hopefully, someone who survived would know, and be able to tell them the truth about him- if it hadnāt already been made horribly clear.
For just right now, heād allow himself a little self-pity. He hurt too much to really do much else, after all.
Everything was coming to an end now, one way or another.
He could only hope that, at the very least... his friends truly would survive this.
