Ga Rei: Exodus Nine (IC)

[Katie]

Mikagura Mika
The End

She watches everyone else’s sacrifices with a forlorn look. In this world, which has existed at the Devourer’s behest, there is no hope, no matter what they claim. The being before them is invincible because the fabric of reality says it is so. No matter what they do to struggle, reality only knows one victor—the enemy. As they throw their lives away valiantly, pointlessly, she can’t help but feel miserable.

The future everyone is fighting for… doesn’t exist in this world.

Mika can feel this the most acutely of anyone else. Though everyone’s bodies may be wracked in numbing pain, she can feel the scope of her power shrink and fade away with every passing second. Knowledge, data, vanishing from the recesses of her mind at a pace that makes her feel sicker than the biting resistance her body puts against this unstoppable force. The one advantage she has, her ability to think faster than any event, is meaningless when all of the information she has vanishes piece by piece with every passing moment.

Despair entwines itself around her heart like a snake, threatening to crush the unrealistic, feeble strands of hope she has. She looks to the girl next to her, with her cerulean eyes burning with indignation, and remembers a promise she made.

Mika isn’t particularly sure if this is the right way to keep it, but like everyone else, she needs to try.

The plan comes to her in fleeting scraps, connections broken in every which way. She tries to memorize as much as she can before it’s erased, but as the seconds go by, she wonders if what she’s composed has any logic at all, and the things she’s committed to memory are no more than fabrications of an imagination that refuses to accept destiny. She doesn’t know, perhaps will never know, but it is a bright light of hope, that to her, shines a bit brighter than Ryuumonbuchi’s noble phoenix or the Knight’s honest radiance.

Her demon arrives with a wordless call in a flurry of droplets and snowflakes, and Mika impulsively hugs the Guardian of the North, because this is the end. Genbu, who has been at her side through thick and thin, will have to part ways from her. It is the Devourer’s disgusting enforcement of destiny. It’s cruelty, that’s what it is. No matter how annoying her protector may have been, it was a bond she couldn’t fathom giving up.

“I know this is selfish, but… don’t forget me. Please,” Mika says, her voice heavy, clipped, because the words struggle to come out. “Make sure Yamuna is okay. And… make sure he does the right thing. He probably will, but…”

Her voice trails off, but the bond between demon and summoner fills in the silent gap. No more words need to be said, so with reluctance Mika pulls herself away and faces her rival, her best friend, the person she loves the most, her face devoid of confidence. Pain wracks every fiber of her being, but Mika tries to smile, even if both of them know it’s terribly fake.

“I have a plan. It really sucks.” She whispers the rest into Nami’s ear, wishing they were words of comfort instead of a barebones explanation. Her girlfriend deserved much better than that. She deserved an idea that was truly able to get them out of this predicament here and now, an idea that didn’t require her to give up as well.

“I’m really sorry about this, Nami, but I don’t think there is any other way. I’d like to believe in Suzume too, but… there’s no guarantee if Yamuna will wake up, or if what she does can truly change fate.” Mika gives an honest assessment of the situation, her voice quiet and hesitant.

Still, Nami follows her lead. No matter how poor her plans were, Nami would believe in her anyway. No matter how painful, how negative, how detached they could be, Nami still trusted her judgment. It touched her, it really did, but she still felt guilty. Her ideas weren’t enough, not enough to be unfalteringly believed in.

The two walk together to a certain police officer, preparing his own form of rebellion. She isn’t sure if his idea would work either, but he probably understood the situation much more than the others, so it couldn’t have been too flawed.

Even so… Mikagura Mika is confident her way is more “correct” than any other option they have right now. Though it isn’t right, she fully believes it is “correct.”

“Hey, before you do anything too crazy,” she says to the deity that merely hours ago, she wished to kill with all her heart, “I’ve things to give you.”

[Akashic Record transferred.]

[Oracle Think Tank transferred.]

It’s an eerie feeling. Her mind feels sluggish, like she’s permanently in a state of waking up. Even the white expanse feels less detailed, as odd as that statement could be. Mika takes one glance at Nami and her heart aches at how she can’t see all the little things she loves, and she turns to Chronos, whose expression she realizes is too hard to read now. She’s lived so long with the Think Tank that the world feels a bit alien now, like someone decided to slowly blur out the details from reality.

Or, perhaps, it’s a property of dying. She can’t tell.

“Oh, and I suppose this too, since I still have it, even though it isn’t mine.” Yagami’s Reverie Complex vanishes too, but unlike the rest of her being, she knows where it is going. It’s a small comfort in this world she can’t predict, but she at least planned it out to know what to do next.

“You should take this too. Maybe prioritize it first.”

She hands over her sword, her gun, her COMP, her partner, her parents’ gift to her. Beacon, like her, was a product of this reality, so it would disappear with the rest of them. Still, it had things that were of some value to the oldest god of time, and he should have them before they disappeared utterly.

It seems odd to give a god the very sword that was meant to slay them, but this is a world where there are no real options left. The best she could do is put her hatred aside and hope that the being she entrusts this all to still had the same ideals as his master, though they became misguided so many timelines ago.

“And… when you see Chiyoko again, tell her we’re all still with her, even if… Even if we don’t make it. The Devourer can erase us, but not the memories, after all.”

It’s a bitter smile on her lips. The pain hasn’t subsided at all—it’s gotten worse, no doubt—and there is a dreary sense of cold that fills her entire body. It takes her a moment as she looks around, wondering how to stave it off, before seeing a hand outstretched. Even if it wasn’t warm, she could easily imagine it was.

Mika holds Nami’s hand and waits for oblivion to come.