[ The blood sprays everywhere—wearing white must be troublesome. The newly decapitated head writhed right under Akira's feet, trying to chomp at its ankles before it dissipates into black particles.
All they can hear are the soft echoes of a child crying. On the walls plays small memories in first person, having fun in middle school only to be told by his parents they're boarding a plane that same day. The friend's face remains blurred out, glitching in places, forgotten... And so is everyone else in those memories. They're blurred, glitched, censored.
"I couldn't be there for them."
Then the film races to another part of his life where there are some muffled words as he's looking at a different friend, at least based on haircut. Words string along carefully—I don't want to be seen with you because everyone thinks you're weird.
"It's better if I keep them at arm's length, so we can't hurt each other."
After that, every single person that shows up on the screen, in passing, or even engaging with him, has a solid X over their faces. The whispers change to different people of different ages calling him a ghost or a phantom because he comes and goes, drops everything and leaves it behind—even if it wasn't his choice. He merely exists, talks to no one, and doesn't initiate anything.
Akira doesn't watch any of it. He already knows what's playing since this is his dream, but he doesn't look at all happy with the solemn and apologetic smile on his face. All of this should have been hidden... It's been resolved and there are no residual feelings left. The remorse, the pain, and the loneliness faded over time. ]
I'm sorry you have to see all of this. At least the treasure is ours?
[ Even if the treasure doesn't belong to Kamoshida... Not even Retrospec, the pixel heart floats above this pedestal. He picks it up before tossing the heart over to Goro. It floats like a dandelion puff over and the scene changes to Akira's room, the room no one had the chance to see. It's plain with nothing on its walls except for curtains against the window; there's only a desk, a bed with blue sheets, a cat bed, and a cello case resting in the corner. ]
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All they can hear are the soft echoes of a child crying. On the walls plays small memories in first person, having fun in middle school only to be told by his parents they're boarding a plane that same day. The friend's face remains blurred out, glitching in places, forgotten... And so is everyone else in those memories. They're blurred, glitched, censored.
"I couldn't be there for them."
Then the film races to another part of his life where there are some muffled words as he's looking at a different friend, at least based on haircut. Words string along carefully—I don't want to be seen with you because everyone thinks you're weird.
"It's better if I keep them at arm's length, so we can't hurt each other."
After that, every single person that shows up on the screen, in passing, or even engaging with him, has a solid X over their faces. The whispers change to different people of different ages calling him a ghost or a phantom because he comes and goes, drops everything and leaves it behind—even if it wasn't his choice. He merely exists, talks to no one, and doesn't initiate anything.
Akira doesn't watch any of it. He already knows what's playing since this is his dream, but he doesn't look at all happy with the solemn and apologetic smile on his face. All of this should have been hidden... It's been resolved and there are no residual feelings left. The remorse, the pain, and the loneliness faded over time. ]
I'm sorry you have to see all of this. At least the treasure is ours?
[ Even if the treasure doesn't belong to Kamoshida... Not even Retrospec, the pixel heart floats above this pedestal. He picks it up before tossing the heart over to Goro. It floats like a dandelion puff over and the scene changes to Akira's room, the room no one had the chance to see. It's plain with nothing on its walls except for curtains against the window; there's only a desk, a bed with blue sheets, a cat bed, and a cello case resting in the corner. ]