Hiro didnât know what he intended to find when he came to the fringes of the world in the little free time he had when he wasnât fighting demons and wasnât looking for some sort of solution, but it wasnât this.
Naoya watched the void with a longing Hiro couldnât personally claim to know. And, hopefully, never did. He watched it as if any minute now he would reach out and caress it, as if he were welcoming it, a long awaited answer to a long and arduous fight.
Naoya was an odd one and sometimes difficult to understand. Then again, so was everyone else he was meeting these days. But a lone figure standing on the gleaming knife edge before the end of the world, the long black scar that swallowed everything in its path without pause, without empathy, without remorse, along with that look of heart-wrenching longing and dark contemplation⌠it was not hard to imagine what kind of scenario held Naoya under its swayâŚ
Still⌠Hiro didnât say anything, not yet. He watched Naoya from a distance, his presence seemingly going unnoticed in face of the great scar, until his footsteps began to carry him closer.
Hiro wasnât afraid to say something to Naoya. He didnât worry that heâd say something to make things worse. Hiro feared doing nothing far more than he feared doing something, anything. And that was as true in this situation than with any other he had faced these past few days. Naoya needed someone to talk to, for all the secrets he seemed to keep to himself and the sharp dangerous edges of his personality that kept people purposefully at a distance. So his feet carried him until he stood right by Naoyaâs side, where he too could come face-to-face with the void and stare into its endless depths.
He could think of a few things to say, such as:
 But for Naoya, he wasnât so sure he wanted to say it, regardless of its truth. Where someone like Daichi might take heart at the thought that he was needed and thought of, Naoya (who isolated himself, scorned others, and clearly knew how highly his skills were valued) might suggest Hiro only said so, selfishly, manipulatively, to keep him fighting alongside with the others for a better chance at victory. (And although factually that wasnât in itself untrue, working together would give them a better chance at figuring things out and for victory, it wasnât why Hiro wanted him by his side.) If Naoya truly wished to beâŚÂ embraced by the void, then Hiro didnât think he would be turned away just because someone thought he might be useful.
What he was, of course, was indispensable, but Hiro wasnât so certain Naoya saw himself that way. That he was important and valued not just because of his skills, but also because of who he was as a person and what he meant to others. Â
>Get away from there! Itâs dangerous!
âŚWas also something he wanted to but wasnât going to say. Naoya had made it abundantly clear that he wasnât stupid, nor unobservant. He knew what dangers standing near the void held. In fact, if it was as Hiro suspected, it was probably why Naoya had sought it out and now stood so close to it. Hiro couldnât divine his reasons, nor did he know them. But what Hiro did know was that he didnât want to receive a death clip of Naoya walking into the void, arms outstretched like he was finally coming home, without being there for him somehow. Â
Even now, Hiro didnât forcefully grab Naoya and pull him away. He would, eventually, if he had to. Just watching Naoya standing near the edge made him uneasy, but this wasnât about him. There would always be people in the world who stared at their own personal voids as if they were coming home, but it didnât mean you should pretend you couldnât see them, nor send them off with just a smile and a wave like it was all okay.
So that really only left one option:
As if suddenly remembering something, Hiro fished through his pocket and pulled out a coin. He flashed it in front of Naoyaâs face (who had assuredlynoticed him long before then) and said, âCheck this out.â He then, with a flourish and a flair for showmanship, balanced the coin on his thumb, held in place by his index finger, and then, with an expectant grin, flicked it with his middle. The coin soared away from his finger, bounced once on the ground once, and then rolled hurriedly away and into the void, disappearing from the world forever. Â
Hiro watched the void from where the coin disappeared for a moment before turning to look at Naoya.
âIâm not sure what I expected, but it looks like I am never getting that back. Wow.â
It was hard to tell if the demonstration was for Naoya as a subtle point, or if it was for Hiroâs own benefit and understanding. Or perhaps another entirely different as of yet revealed reason. Hiro stuffed his hands in his pockets. His smile faded as he adopted a more openly apprising expression. It took some time before Hiro spoke again, but he did not stumble on his words. Â
âI wonât pretend to understand,â Hiro said slowly and deliberately, meaningfully staring at the void before the two of them.Â
He looked over his shoulder at Naoya.
 âBut for what itâs worth, I think youâd be poorer for it.âÂ
Not the sort of quiet one might usually expect in an abandoned area, boards creaking and small animals scurrying, gathering up the last bits of food that remained in what was left of the streets and apartments that once filled Tokyo. The rubble was fresh, yet it didnât shift or settle, as one might expect of newly demolished buildings. They were a parting gift from invaders, a courtesy of the Septentriones, and now no sound came from them, despite wood and stone and cement all mixing together haphazardly. One might wonder whether any settling was suspended by some visiting aura, if somehow each brick and plank could sense their close extinction. After all, what use was it to collapse further if erasure was close at hand regardless?
Perhaps the animals sensed it too. No bird or cat or rodent dared step near these streets, even littered as they were with forgotten delicacies. The nearby neighborhood supermarket was undoubtedly filled to the brim with molding cheese and bread, spoiled meats and milk, fruit, and all manner of tempting offerings to scavengers who dared trespass dangerous ground. Given, it was far too late to safely remove any of those items now, as the half eaten-away sign advertising (one day only!) 50% off rice revealed. What kind of rice sold there was now lost to the void, the five starting to resemble a small hand the more it disintegrated. Naoya could see the fiveâs thumb peeking out from the voidâs embrace. Its larger portion lay just below, reaching, ever reaching, toward a safety it would never find.
The pavement itself had long been scarred by demons and demon tamers alike, having fought over whatever scraps of unspoiled food or territory that had since vanished from this world. Overgrowth and cigarette buds peaked out from beneath concrete, seeking to reclaim the earth here for itself. A defiant act in face of what was to come. Noble, but futile, and yet the growth made not a sound. No wind blew through the leaves of the few trees that dotted the area. No voices pierced the air, and the sound of traffic was conspicuously absent from what was once a busy road.
It felt⌠empty. Meaningless. As if the actions taken by those who once lived in the now bare apartments bore no influence on what was to come. As if all of humanityâs progress and innovations that made this place so bustling with activity before were nothing but a joke of the divine. The approach of the void was inevitable. Even the young chief with all his power and towers couldnât halt its advance, and he was a fool to try. Not the womanâs research, not even the leadership of the boy could save them in the face of monstrosities powerful enough to exterminate minor deities, or at least, not when they grew in power by the day. Naoya had seen this before; they wouldnât last the week.
Away from the frantic orders and communications and flailing of JPs members, it was here, in the midst of this once busy street, that all accepted its fate with quiet grace. The stone and wood, cement and undergrowth, 50% off signs and molded bread⌠All bowed before the will of the Void. Even Naoya himself was humbled before its expanse, taken with the great maw that tore at the sky.
A fitting place to meet his end.
He steeled himself to step forward, to meet that hungry expanse with gladness. It was a long process, certainly, one that may indeed last the entire week it would take for the outsiders to destroy them all. Which was fine in itself; one way or another, he would finally meet his rest. It was as he was imagining himself disappear, as he thought of what sensation may greet him upon stepping through, that he sensed another coming to meet its gaze. Another worshipper of the silence it promised, perhaps. Another seeker of its peaceâŚ
A single will which did not bend before the Voidâs might, out of place among the desolate rubble and smashed cars that littered the streets. All was accepting here, all was ready to embrace fate⌠but for a single boy.
Why bother to come here, then? For what purpose would he seek out the Voidâs beauty but to admit his futile struggle? Naoya certainly wasnât so daft as to believe the boy came to loot half-priced rice, but the alternative implied the boy may have known what he would find upon reaching this place. A ridiculous thought, with the effort Naoya had put into his movement. He had been thorough in covering his tracks, making certain none would find him should he finally step through, should he simply disappear from the pointless resistance that enshrined JPsâs R&D department.
The clang of a 100-yen coin hitting pavement interrupted his thoughts. It pierced through the once amiable silence as it gave a final protest on its path to oblivion.
Naoya turned to regard the boy more directly, frowning. Was this meant as a joke? Or perhaps an example? A warning? Despite his surprise, he couldnât help but feel a pang of envy for the coin. It had disintegrated into nothing, become nothing. Its history had been erased, its faults erased⌠The rust that once hindered the coin, the germs that had spread disease, the dents and scratches that had molded it through timeâŚ
His eyes flicked toward the empty space the coin had left in its wake, his expression tightening.
I wonât pretend to understandâŚ
So it was as he thought. A feeble attempt to undermine the programmerâs goals, to lengthen the amount of time before he was taken by that merciful blackness. A foolish gesture, but a practical one nonetheless. Best keep all able fighters at hand, else the world be swallowed. Live to the last man, attempt to pursue the survival so completely built into human instincts. A predictable goal for a leader.
âŚI think youâd be poorer for it.
Would he, truly? Would he lose anything from cheating his own fate, just as these âSurvivorsâ had thus far? Was he not executing the same action, taking hold of his dictated purpose and spitting in it? Is that not what the boy normally encouraged, normally nurtured? Yet now that his altered fate fell outside of convenience, it was discouraged?
He had already lost everything. It had all been ripped from him, stone by stone, just as surely as the buildings that surrounded them. His brother had been the first, but certainly not the most painful. His wife, his children, even his old friend as he once knew him had been altered beyond what he had bargained for, despite returning to his side. It had all become too heavy a burden long before he had been born into this new millennium. It just so happened this particular era provided him a means to take back the one thing that had been ripped from his grasp.
The choice to live or die.
âI believe I would gain something through the measure, though itâs not the sort of concept Iâd expect you to understand.â
Given, Hiro wasnât quite so common as to completely disregard a complex situation. He certainly couldnât deny the hope that the boy might comprehend, that one outside his situation could peer into it, could catch a glimpse of the clefts that had formed in the ice that encased him over time. He couldnât help but wonder, but hope, that on some level, this young boy could understand the tortures that had plagued him for eras.
Yet he couldnât quite put a finger on how to express himself, nor could he think of words that could possibly justify his train of thought, especially to one who knew nothing of his curse. Despite wishing to convey it for lifetimes, despite desperately hoping another might come to recognize his struggle, conventional terms simply would not be sufficient.
Here, at the precipice of his demise, he wished to leave a testament of what he once was. He wished to leave an explanation, a mark that proved his actions were warranted. As ridiculous as it was to justify himself to a mere boy, he wished to try. Perhaps this time, it wouldnât be for nothing. Perhaps this time, his words wouldnât be disregarded in the face of âcommon senseâ.
âPerhaps⌠A riddle, of sorts.â
He had conveyed himself thus in the past. While it hadnât completely resolved his situation, it had certainly netted him some useful insight on what actions could be taken (one of which, he now stood on the brink of enacting). Part of himself scoffed, proclaiming the boy not near the quality of the uncommon woman who had helped him so. Another part whispered of the accomplishments the boy had already made, that they were telling of the fact the boy was anything but common.
âWhat more can be done for a phoenix
âWhose meaning has long run dry
âThan to seal it in mercy of boundless slumber?â
