You still aren’t exactly sure what the meaning or correct translation of “Kattobingu” is. A portmanteau word, yes, but, do the two halves combine to create a whole new meaning or does it only amplify its separate parts? Perhaps you will never know. And, perhaps it is better that way.
“I build the Overlay Network! XYZ SUMMON!” is so fully hammered into the depths of your neurons now that whenever you see two or more monsters of the same level, you instinctively cry out for an XYZ monster, even if there are none in the vicinity.
You’ve grown desensitized to bright colors and horribly dressed people. They are like the flowers on the wallpaper in the bathroom that no one uses. You never look at them twice.
Numbers now hold special meaning to you. Number 96 in particular.
In your dreams, Kotori’s battlecry of “Yuma!” fills your slumber. You wander down an endless and dark corridor, Kotori’s cries for Yuma as diverse as tropical birdsong. You can’t remember if she said anything else important. It began with Yuma and it ended with you. Yuma is all.
Blinding light now reminds you of Astral’s censored crotch. Perhaps when you are in a darkened place, you could invoke the power of the Holy Crotch.
The mysteries of the Moon have been revealed to you. With a heavy heart, you know exactly who the Man in the Moon is.
The Arclights’ dog stares into your soul. You wonder what happened to it. Knowing Tron’s sadistic habits, you think that perhaps not knowing is a gift.
The Kamishiro Twins are actually deceased. Instead, two alien souls are inhabiting them and using them like personal flesh puppets. You try not to think about that too often. You try never to think about it.
Thomas’s Gimmick Puppet deck crawls around on all fours in your waking and sleeping hours. Whenever you are alone, you feel watched. The rafters creak in reply. You take in a deep breath and proceed to dust off your antiques. Someday. But not today.
The parallels between Heaven, Hell, the Holy and Unholy Trinity dance about in your mind. If the Numeron Dragon is the Great Creator, Eliphas and Astral as God and Jesus, Don Thousand and Black Mist as Satan and the Antichrist, then who is the Great Destroyer?
Late at night, you swear you can hear Kaito whistling off in the distance. No matter how tightly you shut your windows and lock your doors, the whistling persists.
Vector’s visage has burned itself into the back of your eyelids. You see him, in all of his chaotic glory eternally.
The weeks before the end of Zexal will live in infamy. You can still hear the weekly crying fests of the fans. You can still hear Challenge the Game playing on loop as the unlucky character(s) of the week’s life is flashed through the screen. Distantly, you think you can hear the writers’ besotted jeers and laughter. Perhaps it is just Vector. Since then you carry a pack of tissues and a mourning outfit just in case the occasion arises. Death is imminent. Death is eternal. Death is inevitable. Death frolics through Zexal like young children do in a schoolyard.
Sharks now hold a special place in your heart alongside the name Reginald.
Gilag devouring Ponta haunts your every waking moment, from the tanuki’s final screams to Gilag’s sated swallowing at the end. You never want to swallow anything whole again, not even yogurt. You methodically chew your yogurt and ignore the disapproving stares of passerby. They don’t understand the horror of having to bear witness to an Epicurean murder.
The sounds of orchestral arrangements, especially with heavy brass presence, will always make your blood pressure rise. Are you about to lose a duel and your lifelong spiritual partner? Is your friend about to betray you to fight in an intergalactic war? Is a shrunken man child about to kidnap your brother and torture him? You are never sure, but the brass band has turned into a harbinger of doom.
You aren’t sure what Zexal means. However, you can always feel its presence, lurking around your living quarters like a shadow. It began with Zexal and it will end with Zexal. You will be buried with Zexal.