Work Text:
Fujimaru Ritsuka stands, looking over the edge of the cliff, in a place far, far, away. Near the edge, dangerously so. His shoulders are slumped and his eyes empty. His once pristine Chaldea Uniform is torn and dirty. He shivers once.
“I used to believe in God, you know. Before all this started, before I knew what I really was. I went to church and prayed the prayers, and sang the songs. All the bullshit. At some point in my life, I began to question. When I learned about the wonder, the absolute wonder of science and mathematics. Their ability to model and predict our world. They were so … neat. I doubted. I thought ‘Is a God needed to steer the world?’.
“I was already doubting, when this began. This was the last nail in the coffin. The endless slaughter, the endless guilt. I don’t believe in anything, not anymore.
“It’s all one big joke you see. I’m surrounded by spirits of the dead, legends come back to life. My existence is proof that every probability curve has an end, and I can’t find him. I can’t find her.”
My voice breaks, even as I remember their smiling faces.
“I can’t bring any of them back. It’s a sick joke and all I can do is laugh.”
“HahahahahahahahahahahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAHAHAAAAAAH”
I laugh until my sides hurt, until tears are streaming from my eyes, and my head is spinning, and I see stars.
My hollow facsimile of laughter finally peters out; the echo of the last breathless chuckle sucked up, by the cliff’s edge.
And if I can’t find them, if I can’t bring them back, then there’s no point. None at all.
I’m fighting for pan-human history. For every possible future and every possible future humans have or could have experienced in the Old World, and I can’t do it anymore.
Fujimaru Ritsuka looks at the cliff’s edge, and takes a deep breath.