Our Song of Hope || Miori & Kamiya || Finale
With Micah tended to, Miori pushes herself to her feet, her left arm dangling weakly, hopelessly, painfully at her side. Itās a battle in and of itself just to stand at all; every move she makes, no matter how small, seems to amplify the sheer agony that radiates from her arm. Were she a different woman - an unchanged woman - sheād long since have given up on fighting. Sheād have hidden herself away somewhere she could be left untouched and unharmed. Sheād have left Micah to the wolves. Sheād have left all of them to the wolves, really, so long as it meant she herself stayed safe.
But here she is, injured and seething in pain and still standing despite it. Still fighting, even, because she finally has something worth fighting for. For as long as she can remember, her fight was an empty one. She wasnāt, in truth, aiming for anything. Sheād wanted revenge, sure, but only because it was all she could allow herself to want. Anything more would have been too much, too unrealistic. But now, armed with the strength of people she loves - of people who love her in turn - she has a reason to continue. A reason to push forward. A reason to fight.
She grits her teeth and forces herself forward, step by heavy step. Every single one hurts, but every single one is worth it. Her friends, her family, are worth it.
Eli, so unrelentingly kind and steadfast in his beliefs, is worth it. For a long while, she wasnāt sure where she stood with him, nor did she care enough to figure it out. But he continued, despite every hardship sheād subjected him to, to treat her with the same kindness he did everyone else, and in time he became one of the few she grew to cherish most. Such a simple offering of normalcy, however abnormal it may have seemed to her, did so much more than he could ever realize.
Hibiki, for all the difficulties and squabbles he came with, is worth it. Even before sheād begun to let people in, heād managed to worm his way into the back of her mind. It wasnāt that he had the energies of a little brother; he had the energy of her little brother, of a boy who seemed so unsure of himself and yet so devoted to the people and beliefs he decided to cling to. She isnāt sure where she stands with him now, but what times they had managed to share - the tradeoffs of dragging each other out of their shells, the back-and-forths that felt so much like she was talking to a mirror and a memory at the same time - were precious to her.
Micah, of course, is worth it. What more could she possibly say about Micah? Though he felt like a brother to her, he was far different from Hibiki. If Hibiki wormed his way into her heart from the start, then Micah grew on it slowly, like a weed or a moss. He was unexpected, and yet heād become so familiar. He, too, brought to mind a brother - her older brother, a boy who, in his own way, protected her in spite of his gentleness, who taught her what it truly meant to be human. She can only hope her song made it through to him.
Miranda, with every monstrous bit of her there might be, is worth it. At first, Miori could hardly seem to hold a conversation with her, both so wrought with suspicion and paranoia, and yet all it took was the lifting of her mask for the two to find common ground. It was so oddly easy to just talk with Miranda. They never even had to speak about anything serious; all they had to do was talk about Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook or Bridgerton. All they had to do was poke a little good-natured fun at their mutually terrible handling of feelings. All they had to do was exist around each other, and somehow everything felt so normal. She hopes she knows just how hard it was to come by normalcy, and how much something so simple meant to someone like her.
Raoul, as different as they were and as undeserving of his kindness as she was, is worth it. There was a brief moment where sheād felt little more than pity for him, though not so much pity she wasnāt poised to take advantage of his good nature. But as time passed and as she changed, she found comfort in his eccentricities. He was, in a way, as unfamiliar with the world as she was. Their circumstances differed greatly, sure, but what one of them lacked the other could easily cover and vice versa. He stood by her when hardly anyone else thought she deserved it, and for that she couldnāt thank him enough.
Shoji, in spite of the bumps in the road that was their friendship, is worth it. Of everyone, she never expected to become genuinely friendly with someone like Shoji. He was nothing at all like the company she normally kept, though in most cases thatās a good thing, just as it was in Shojiās. Though they couldnāt be more outwardly different, being able to talk to someone who seemed to at least kind of understand her plight wasā¦ refreshing. Past their shared troubles, though, he never failed to extend his understanding to her. Even if they didnāt see eye-to-eye, heād talk to her like he wanted to understand her. Regardless of whether or not he succeeded, his desire to do so alone was comforting. She hopes, at least, their chats gave him similar solace.
And in front of all of them, threatening to tear everything theyāve worked for away, is Alou. Alou, who had so carefully danced around her in conversation, when she was still Nori and he was still just Alou. Alou, who had so thoroughly met her expectations as a liar and yet made her sick to watch. Alou, who sheād just barely begun to soften up towards.
In her grief-stricken state, sheād thought his words to be kind. Gentle, even. Like there was some sort of respite to be offered, even from someone like him. But she sees now that it was little more than a ploy. Sheās almost certain, seeing what he truly is, that he simply wanted to dissect her further, get closer to the roots of her misery. Not to help, of course. No, sheās sure he just wanted entertainment.
Thatās all they ever wanted.
He really is, she thinks, just like them.
āYou toldā told meā¦ beforeā¦ that I should be āless interestingā, if I wanted youā¦ to stop studying me. To stopā putting meā¦ under a microscope. And I assumeā now, that maybeā¦ it was because you didnāt understand. You couldnātā¦ understand the things Iād been through, orā¦ the things Iād felt.ā
Her words are forced and her breath is labored. The pain is palpable on her tongue, but still she carries on.
āIā¦ will make you understand what it feels like. To be human. To be me. Iā will make youā¦ know what itās likeā¦ to be afraid.ā
With what little strength she can muster, Miori reaches her one good arm up towards the tangle of threads. The one constant in her life, the one thing sheād always had, was music, and sheāll be damned if she lets anything get between her and her one steady stream of comfort.
She manages, even if just barely, to clumsily pluck a warm melody - ironically, one in the very same rhythm Alou had created when heād idly tapped his fingers against the table, back before he had let his mask slip. Before she had done the same with hers. The same soft blue light that had spilled from her lips before now flows from her fingertips, trailing along the threads as she plays them just like she would a harp. Like a river, the light follows the strands towards Alou, and seemingly harmless droplets fall against his skin.
At first, it almost seems as if the beast is enraptured by the music. All struggles cease, and Alouās eyes go wide as the harp begins to play.
ā¦ Something begins to sing in a ghastly choir with the melody, and you realize itās the low keening of the beast.
Alou flinches away from some unseen strike, eyes squeezing tightly shut as it raises its arms to fend off phantom blows. Claws and tail gouge harmless scores into the walls of the catacombs as Alou lashes out at nothing, momentarily distracted from his true targets. His wings flap uselessly as he bucks and screams, trying uselessly to take flight.
The skin on its back continues to twitch and jump to unseen pains, and hours and hours of Mioriās painful, personal experiences bombard and disorient him. It's only when his tail sideswipes the loom does he blink in confusion, the twang of hundreds of strings ripping apart in one blow pulling him out of Miori's sensory hell.
Whether or not she does any real damage - real physical damage, that is - is inconsequential to her. Her goal is as selfless as it is selfish; though she does truly want to distract him, pull his attention away to allow others room to act, she wants just as much to make him hurt. She wants him to feel everything sheās had to feel, everything sheās had to endure, to get to where she is now. She wants somebody to really, truly understand the depth with which her torment runs.
And what better person, she thinks, than a man who was complicit in it all along?
Micah had been the main focus on Kamiyaās part, if only to ensure that they all made it out alive, but, it wasnāt like he was ignoring everything else that happened. As Miori suffered an injury that couldnāt be avoided his gaze focused on her arm, trying to think of a way that he could help in this case, but, at this time there wasnāt much he could do to mend her wounds, or, for that matter anyone elseās wounds. The only thing he could really do was focus on the battle ahead, right? They were all trying to survive in the end, and, at this point he was determined to make it work.
Which is why Kamiya took in a deep breath, determined to finally do something right, to finally put an end to all the torture they had went through, he wasnāt supposed to be there, right? But it was as he made clear many times, he might not have been meant in hell, or, for that matter did the right things in hell, but it didn't mean he had to stop trying, right? Everyone else was doing their best in this spot, working to make Alou finally falter, to cut the strings that strung them all along throughout their lives. To finally live their lives as they were meant to live. This caused him to close his eyes, he might not have been able to create a mixtape like before, but, he could certainly try something, right?
ā--I am not gonna fuck up this time, ever since Iāve gotten here Iāve alwaysā¦ Thought I was gonna die, ya know? I accepted that shit, I was prepared to die fer good anā never accomplish anythinā with my life, anā I was okay with that! āCause I knew it was rightā¦.ā A deep breath as Kamiya glared ahead, for once a determination he had never shown prior coming to light. āBut look at me now? Iām only half the fuck-up ya are, ācause thereās a difference here. Youāre so stuck in yer own goddamn head that you aināt seeinā ya had a chance fer good shit in yer life, but, that aināt the goddamn point, is it? Iāll show ya what everyone whoāve been there fer me did fer me anā youāll see that even if I fuck up, Iāll keep tryinā fer the people I care about.ā
Bringing his headphones up to cover his ears, the D.J. let the light in front of him take shape, it was akin to that which he worked with often, a D.J. booth where light seemed to erupt whenever a switch, or, for that matter anything was interacted with in this case. The booth in front of him was formed by the desire to do good, music was something he always knew, it was something he was proud ofā¦ And these positive forces were something that heād use to fight this battle, even if he was scared, even if he wanted to run away, there were people who depended on all of them in this case.
As the tune played out, light seemed to erupt from every note erratically, each note amplified as his thoughts continued to fixate on the people around him, the people who made him into this hopeful person. Of course, most of the people there have a special place in his heartā¦ But there were a few who came to mind as he continued to play his tune, focusing intently on the musical onslaught he was blasting out toward Alou, hard to really pin-point where it would hit, but, effective nonetheless in its own way.
Thoughts of Raoul, the man who had been there in his darkest hours, who had always had a smile on his face and positive things to say, a true friend who he would treasure forever. A man who he would gladly wear stupid party-city suits together with and laugh about their next future adventures, a man who he would always support, no matter how tough things got now.
Hibiki, the man who he viewed like a brother, the type of guy who Kamiya often tried to bring out of his shellā¦ The man who even past all the pain his actions had brought, he still thought about him in their darkest moments.
Ruby had a spot in his mind too, someone who he had thought wanted nothing more than to harm him after his failures, decided to forgive, she was one of the people who called him a friend after what had happened, and that was a friendship he knew heād treasure in the future.
Of course, images of Mirai and Minami were there, people who Kamiya knew he had hurt from his actions, who he knew likely would never believe in him againā¦ But there was always a chance, right? Maybe through his actions he could do right in their eyes, just this once.
Then came Shoji, a man who constantly brightened his day whenever they got back to the greed lounge. Along with Wakako, someone who he had idolized as a streamer, only to think of her as a dear friend once he got to know her better.
Olwin always was an odd one to him, but an odd one who always looked out for him when it came down to it, a friend who heād trust in the endā¦ And even if he couldnāt say something nice about Hisashi, he could at least say his cruggs were sick? That was something positive to drive this, right?
Yukiko may have been someone who hurt him in the past, but they were never enemies, right? Even past all the hurtā¦ There were positive moments he knew he shared with her, ones that he was certain even she would treasure deep down
Then came everyone else, it was hard to place exact moments for everyoneā¦ But he cared about them all deeply, to the point that the light intensified, focusing on the last person who came to mind, the one who had been there since the beginningā¦ Of course, those thoughts were interrupted as he heard Mioriās own tune, a tune mixed in with the pain of her past, making Alou feel what she had felt all her life because of thatā¦ Noticing that pain caused him to take off his headphones, holding them out brightly to her with a smile.
ā--Cāmon, ya wanna play our songs together? Maybe we can remix yers intāa somethinā a little brighter, yeah? I promised ya weād get ya a brighter future, I think whatāll hurt this jackass more is knowinā that past everythinā yer still movinā forward even past all the bullshit heās thrown atācha.ā
By the time she hears her name, Miori is so focused on her own melody she can hardly register anything else. Sheād love to say itās simply because sheās distracting herself from the searing pain in her arm, but thatās not the whole truth. No, itās far too easy to get lost in the pain of the past, and for far longer than she should, Miori does just that. For what little strength she has left, she forces as much hurt as she can into every string she plucks, and still it doesnāt feel like enough. Not until she hears Kamiyaās voice, and sheās pulled back out of her own headā¦ and back into the reality where her armās been obliterated. The pain feels as though it hits her all at once all over again, and she lurches forward, fingers falling away from the threads. Still, she manages to turn her eyes to Kamiya. The one person who really, truly stuck by her, who loved her, through everything. Every mistake she made, every step she took towards a better her, every wall she ran herself into, he was there, and thatās enough to keep her going. She still has trouble wrapping her head around why heād never left her behind after everything sheād put him through, but sheās learned by now questioning his resolve will get her nowhere. Heād made it clear from the start heād stay by her side in spite of how hard she tried to push him away, and for that she couldnāt be more grateful. She smiles at him through the pain, and with a shaky hand reaches out to take the headphones he offers.
āIāā¦ Iād like that. Iā¦ justā need some help. I donātā¦ think I can stand onā my ownā¦ for much longer.ā
Obviously there was a lot Kamiya could say about Miori, she had lied to him from the beginning as Nori, and kept her true identity a secret, she had in fact stabbed Olwin in the past, a move that left a negative opinion in the minds of others, and she did also set up the trap which led to the death of Minami, Mirai, himself and herself in that caseā¦ But there was more past that, she was someone who always kept him on the right path, when he was scared or anxious of the situations she always was there for him, just as much as he was always there for her, offering a shoulder to lean on and a genuine connection, genuine understanding of the pain both of them felt in their pasts. Which is why he nodded to her, of course once she was done putting on the headphones, offering a shoulder to lean on once more like they always did for each other.
ā--You donāt gotta ask that, okay? Ya know ya can count on me! Hasnāt gone too wrong fer us yet! Gyhahaha! Just hold on a lilā longer anā weāll get outta here in one-piece, okay? Ya trust me on that, right?ā
His positive energy shining, as he motioned ahead to Alou, preparing to continue his own song alongside Mio in their final battle, the one thatād start them off on a path to a brighter tomorrow, one they both would share together.
She laughs, but even a light chuckle draws a wince out of her. As concentrated as the agony is, it still manages to make everything a little more painful. Or a lot more painful. It varies. Hurt aside, she wraps her good arm around Kamiyaās shoulders and leans against him for support (a feat made much easier by the fact sheās returned to her actual height, thank god).
āI knowā I donāt have to ask. ā¦ Force of habit. Iāllā Iāll be okay. Justā¦ help coverā for me later, when I haveā¦ to come up with a whole new identity forā for the hospital staff, okay?ā
ā--Iron Giselleās a pretty good name? Could probably roll with that?ā
āā¦ If I was a really shitty superhero, maybe. Weā we canā¦ workshop it. Later.ā
A laugh followed from them both, as their song of hope began. Unable to make use of her good arm any longer, Miori begins to sing the same tune sheād been plucking earlier. This time, though, itās different - the notes are brighter, bouncier, and her voice, however weak it may be, is warm. Hopeful. Like she has days worth looking forward to. Kamiya continued his own song, the joy and whimsy of his own tune, the melody mixing together as the lights of both of their songs danced around. Where Mioriās song may have been a river, this was a wave, as the glowing blue and gold notes seemed to surround Alou, a constant wave of song bashing against him. Where Kamiyaās notes were erratic, hard to predict, they were more in tune with Mioriās own song, flowing and bright, focused on one common goal as the two continued to play their song.
A brighter tomorrow was possible, and this song was both Kamiya and Mioriās way to make it clear, not only for themselves, but for everyone there. The friends they made along the way, those who wished nothing more than the worst for them, and even for the one who had cast them into the depths of hell, that even through the misfortune, they would all continue to step forward.
