A Ballad in Three Acts || Itoji || Epilogue
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.
This, he thinks, this is everything I’ve ever wanted.