#itoji

I.

Death was blissful for Itoji Miyagi.

The bang of the gunshot to his neck was nothing compared to the resolving note, the final chord Itoji played before dying a somewhat gruesome, if not comparatively mundane death. The warmth of blood travelling down his neck-- a phantom sensation more than anything else-- was more like a warm hug, an embrace from behind, reminding him that, despite everything, he did live. He lived for as long and as well as he could, well enough to be able to bleed over what he loved most.

The light was blinding but it also felt cleansing, washing away all the sins he had committed in this life-- maybe cleansing enough to be absolved of them. Had he done enough, he wondered, until the very end? Was he good enough in this life? The thought always plagued him, every decision he made in this crisis making him wonder if he deserved what came next. Well, whatever the case may be, he was about to find out. 

And so the light came, and it came, and it had not stopped coming. Itoji Miyagi wakes up staring at a light rather than… being in the light. That couldn’t be right, could it? He looks up, realizing that he’s lying down in some sort of pod, his own breath fogging up the glass above him. The pod opens, and suddenly the afterlife looks a lot like a laboratory. Slowly, hesitantly, he sits up, taking in the room around him. There’s more pods, and more people, is that--

The sigh is familiar and unfamiliar with the relief that touches it; a noise of someone trying to sound exasperated but succeeding only in appearing to release a breath that was being held. It’s short, like the footsteps that follow. It’s short, like the amount of time Itoji gets to process before arms wrap around his shoulders.

A gentle motion, meant not to jar him too much. The hand that rests on top of his head is gentle, too. Mingzhu hugs him, chuckling softly.

“Good morning, Itoji. You really did sleep in a bit too much, dear.”

A quick “Ah-?” escapes Itoji as he’s hugged, still taking in everything going on. Of course the voice, and the gesture, are familiar. Too familiar. And, with everything that’s happened so far, he assumes the worst—

“Mingzhu-san? Oh, no, they… they got you too…?!” His eyes begin to water.

Another laugh, this one punctuated by a pat to his head. “Now, now. Surely you don’t think me that careless as to go and do something silly like die. Fufu, I suppose it’s something of a long story -- in fact, you did us something of a favour...” That explanation could come in a moment. For now…

“You are not dead. None of us are.”

“I— None of us are—“ No, Itoji Miyagi had definitely died. There’s even a faint sharpness on the back of his neck, a warmth, the embrace of death still lingering around him… Or maybe he’s mistaken it for Mingzhu’s embrace. Mingzhu, who is most certainly alive, embracing Itoji, who most certainly died… Could it really be? Could he really…

Before he can stop it, the tears start running down his cheeks, and his mouth contorts to stop him from crying out in joy. He lets out the faintest of whimpers as he gently pushes Mingzhu off of him to wipe his tears— “Y-Your clothes, I-I don’t want to cry on your clothes”— and start looking around the room, recognizing the people around him, both those he had watch die and those he didn’t. 

Against all odds, Itoji Miyagi had cheated death twice.

“Oh, Mingzhu-san… What… How…” He does a scan of the room again. “Hades-san… I-I have to apologize to…”

Mingzhu leans back, giving Itoji the space to look at the room lined with pods that had become far too familiar to them; they can barely remember the unease at seeing it for the first time. And--

They give him a wry smile.

“Ahh, well… funny you should mention that. Regarding that favour you did us…”

He certainly had missed a lot, hadn’t he?

II.

For trapping him in a killing game for Lorde knows how long, Itoji is treated quite well by the Valhalla staff.

It takes a few days for everything to sink in-- the fact that he had died and yet is living now. He’s caught up on everything that he had missed-- killing the mastermind was the most shocking of it all, of course-- and he can’t believe that, despite the circumstances, the nineteen (or, eighteen, he supposes-- who would’ve thought Tomio to be a serial killer?) of them had survived two killing games. It feels selfish, almost, that he was able to cheat death twice.

But he can’t help but feel that this wasn’t an accident. For the first time since his first mutual killing game, he could picture himself living beyond tomorrow, beyond the next week. The future feels tangible, as if he could mold it with just one hand, even if the other’s been tied around his back. For the first time, maybe in his life, Itoji was excited at the prospect of living. And yet, there’s a pit in his chest that still hasn’t been filled, a grief that will stay with him forever… 

It’s another day of looking out the window into the futuristic world he’s found himself in from his accommodated room when a Valhalla staff member walks into his room, an oddly grim look on their face. They had been coming in periodically to give him updates-- health updates, how travelling back would ultimately work. It’s nothing out of the blue, but for whatever reason, they seem to approach Itoji with hesitation.

“Miyagi-san, I have an update on your home rift,” they say. Itoji turns his attention to them, cocking his head in curiosity. “I… I’m not quite else sure how to say this, but… Your home rift no longer exists.”

“It… It no longer exists?” Itoji repeats.

“It seems… the passage of time on your home rift was much more accelerated than we expected. Its universe has died, in simple terms.” They pause, looking down at their feet as they cement what Itoji has already realized. “There… There is no rift for you to go back to. I am so sorry.”

Itoji waits, sitting patiently, waiting for his heart to drop. For the sadness to hit him all at once, the same way it did when he realized Riho was dying, when he realized he had killed Senka, when he realized he had killed Hades-- but it doesn’t. He finds tears welling up in his eyes again, yet, despite it all, he can’t help but… smile. 

He imagines a world-- perhaps this futuristic one he’s found himself in-- where he can live again. It feels like so long ago, and perhaps now it really has, since he was able to do exactly what he wanted. His heart begins to beat faster, and he feels another embrace rush across his whole body-- relief. The tears stream down his face as it all sinks in. There was no death on the horizon, no more despair. No more apocalypse to fight in, no more people depending on him to save the world… 

In a way, this is (almost) everything he’s ever wanted.

“Miyagi-san?” the staffer repeats. “Are you alright?”

“I-I,” he stutters, “I… I think I’m going to be okay,” he says. 

As he’s wiping his tears, the door whips open. He hears panting, and, looking up through teary eyes, he sees a familiar woman. Long shiny red hair, familiarly warm red eyes, tearing up exactly in the same way he is. When he opens his mouth to speak, she does so at the same time, and their voices melt together in the same perfect harmony.

“Ito-chan,” she says.

“Ri-chan,” he says.

Riho rushes towards him, arms wrapping each other, and in an instant, Itoji Miyagi is whole again. 

III.

Muscle memory is a beautiful thing.

His fingers glide over the keys with grace, not a second thought taken to the notes being played. He hears, and he reacts, just as an accompanist should. 

The violin sounds exactly how he remembers it to sound, and the keys he plays complement them perfectly. 

His eyes closed, he doesn’t need to see to know that all of this isn’t just in his head-- that he isn’t alone anymore. 

The reactions are as to be expected-- anger, laughter. It’s embarrassing, in a sense, that Itoji’s standing here crying his eyes out when he’s the one who has done wrong. He knows deep down that he should stop crying, and just silently await his death.

CC’s attacks, Mayumi’s comfort, Eve’s question-- they all blend together. He can’t bring himself to look any of them in the eyes. He clutches at his neck, looking for comfort in the necklaces, his artifacts, but then he remembers that they too, are gone. 

The discussion about who to vote for goes over his head-- he hadn’t even realized that what killed Ikiryo was a trap of her own creation-- and instead he tries to stifle his own sobs as they work out whatever they’re working out. The pain in his side only increases and he reckons if the execution doesn’t kill him, his injuries might as well might. Well deserved, he thinks.

The votes begin to tally, and he’s unsurprised and unfazed. What does surprise him, though, is another presence. Mingzhu, again. He feels their gentle pats and, again, his cries stop. Ever so gently, he takes off the jacket they gave him and puts it around their shoulders. He wipes his eyes as he addresses them. He speaks softly, just to them, and no one else. 

“I… I don’t… d-deserve your kindness, Mingzhu-san,” he says. “Th… There’s better company than me… Please… S-Save your k-kindness for… someone who has earned it.” He then turns away, and doesn’t look back. 

He looks at everyone else now, and wipes his eyes, trying to look determined. But of course, as always, he looks like a fragile boy. All this time, he's tried so hard to lead, to be a part of change, but has he ever been capable? Has he ever been strong enough? 

For once, he wants to be strong; not just look strong, but be strong, to leave strongly, without looking like a broken mess. But he spoiled that chance the second he walked into the trial room. He swallows the rest of his tears and accepts this fate.

Then, softly at first, he begins to speak, his voice hoarse from crying. 

“I… I would trade places with either of them in an instant,” he says. “B-Both of them… deserved to live more than me… B-But I know my words don’t matter. I-I’m sorry… I’m so, terribly sorry…” 

He’s cried all his tears. He feels empty, but perhaps he’s felt this way all along. Twins come in pairs for a reason-- in many cases, one completes the other, and vice versa. Perhaps he’s been incomplete all this time. 

“I… I wish you all the best. If… If there’s anything to be learned, it’s that there’s always a way out. A… All of us are proof of that.”

Crying makes everything worse. Quite literally-- have you ever tried crying with broken ribs? Every sob, every breath in hurts more than the last, and it only makes him cry more. He tries to keep his cries quiet so he can hear what’s being asked of him, but everything feels blurry. Lowell’s soft voice, Tomio’s strong request-- he hears them, but it’s hard to register. Perhaps this-- this pain, this confusion-- is just what he has deserved all along.

He doesn’t even hear Mingzhu come up behind him-- the last person he wants to see, quite frankly, besides perhaps Persephone-- but suddenly he feels the warmth of a jacket around him. Has he felt this cold the whole time? And then his shoulders are being pressed and-- he feels calmer. The presence of another person, it calms him. He feels himself take a breath, and for once, it doesn’t stagger out in a sob. It comes out cleanly. 

When Mingzhu speaks, he’s able to hear them clearly. Then, suddenly, someone else is behind him. He feels the hands on his back and shoulder, and at first, he tenses up. But then Kou’s voice-- soft and kind-- floats in his ear, and he relaxes. In. And out. He has to breathe, he remembers, no matter how much it hurts. And after a moment without sobs, he takes a deep breath, and begins to tell his story.

“H...Hades-san and I… W-We were out on a morning walk…” he starts. “We walked from our room t-to the Agricultural District… Why did we go on a walk?! W-We never take walks!”

“W-We were walking, and we saw Ikiryo-san… B-But I d-don’t… W-We didn’t know her that well, s-so we kept walking… Oh God, why didn’t we turn around…? B-But all of a sudden…”

The tears start to come again, but he tries to hold back any further sobs.

“We heard a crash, a-and the tractor started… A-And we saw Ikiryo-san tailing behind it, tied to the back…” Itoji grimaces at the thought. “I… I ran over, a-and I stood in front of it… T-To try and stop it… Stupid, stupid, stupid… But it didn’t work, a-and the tractor w-went into the pond… W-With Ikiryo-san still tied to it…”

“I… Hades-san and I got on the boat so that… I-Ikiryo-san could swim to it… She could swim, why didn’t she swim?!” Itoji tenses up again at that thought. “B… But… S-Something followed us…” 

“I… I followed us… No, no… O-One of the fear clones of me followed us onto the boat… W-We didn’t even see it u-until we were in the middle of the pond… We could see Ikiryo-san… But then the clone started attacking us…”

“I killed Hades-san… It was… I was stabbing at us… No, no, it wasn’t me, it was the other me… But it was me… I…” 

Itoji’s brow furrows, as if confused. “I attacked… I attacked Hades-san… It was me, wasn’t it…? N-No,” He shakes his head at himself. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t… I tried to save Hades-san… I-I-I...” 

His words devolve into the useless sobbing again. Suddenly, he shakes Kou off of himself and puts his face in his hands. He violently wipes the tears from his face, then begins to yell. 

As the discussion continues, there is an eerie noise that halts everything. 

The elevator is rising.

The clunk of the elevator continues on for an exceedingly long time-- does it always take this long to get here?-- until finally, the elevator comes into view. Slowly, the doors slide open-- and Itoji walks out. 

His hand is on his side, no doubt covering and protecting the bruises and broken ribs that were observed earlier. His mouth quivers as tears pour down his face-- from pain or otherwise?-- and he walks slowly over to his own podium. Fitting, perhaps, that now both sides of him are completely empty. There’s an odd spotlight on him now, and he feels it. As he takes his place, he takes a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

Gently, just loud enough to be heard, he begins to speak. “I… I think...” He takes a pause, then a deep breath. 

“I think... I killed him. I… I killed Hades-san.”

Well. That was a lot of things that all just happened at the same time. Itoji’s eyes widen, and continue to widen, as the developments go on. Kiyoshi being clean, Servin refusing to do anything, Fleur getting… demoted?! Jesus, this really is a Killing Game that’s out of this world-- he could have never imagined anything like that happening in his first game. 

When Blep speaks, Itoji can feel his eye twitch. At least Fleur was mostly quiet and polite-- but now he has to deal with this Build-a-Bitch on top of everything that’s going on? He almost starts laughing-- this is just ridiculous! Regardless, he’s distracted as the trial continues. When Servin does their little spiel, Itoji speaks up.

“W-Well…” He sighs-- is it all over? “Since Servin-san is clean, a-and Fleur has those scuffs on their arm…Everything points to Fleur, right…? The marks, the mini meltdown... A-And the fact that they are explicitly now one of us-- a player.” 

He turns to Fleur and looks them in the eyes. In his own there’s a determination that even he’s never seen before. He looks across the circle of podiums at Fleur and leans forward.

Itoji has looked better, and has seen better. This is trial, what… eight? To think that he’d be in a trial room again after the first go around… he didn’t think it at all, actually. But yet, here he is, in the wee hours of the morning, trying to find out who killed someone while it seems most people were speaking. He does the same as he did last trial-- listen and wait, mostly. And when Tomio pipes up, he offers something as well. 

“I-If I might add,” he says to grab the attention of everyone. “Um, Kiyoshi-san,” he turns to the mentioned, “M-Might we see your arms and hands too…?” He speaks softly and politely at first, but his tone quickly shifts. “There’s… no way to do this lightly, but, you fit the size requirement… And clearly, y-you have some kind of motive. So it would be best to get you out of the way first.” 

"Ah,” he says after a pause. “A-And just so we’re clear…” He holds his hands up-- his short sleeves reveal clean and wound-free arms.

“I… was in my room all night. I… I didn’t see or hear anything else.” He puts his arms down.

Sit and observe.

Sit, observe, and adapt.

It’s what he’s good at-- hell, it’s what he was trained to do. Albeit, he never expected to be in the sky somewhere observing and participating in a murder trial, but it’s almost the same as doing it at a piano, if he closes his eyes.

Which is what he decides to do. He doesn’t even have to offer his alibi-- it all comes out in the course of the discussion. And maybe that’s for the best, because he feels as if he were to open his mouth and speak, tears would just pour. Listening to Atsushi… willing to risk execution to save his loved one… Is Itoji so different? He thought before that he might be, but now he isn’t too sure.

Regardless, when Kiyoko’s truth comes out, Itoji simply sighs. He hadn’t known Kiyoko at all, despite the fact that it seems like everyone else did, but he knows at least that if she says she didn’t mean it, she most likely didn’t. Though he knows it isn’t, he partially feels like it’s his fault, and that causes his hands to shake. Gently, he turns to Kiyoko to address her.

“Satoori-san… I am so sorry. No one.. No one of us should be allowed to decide who lives or dies.”