Archive of Our Own

My hand hovered over the doorknob of my bedroom—I hated how the beat of my heart felt in the narrow hallway of the dorm. It was loud, drowning my thoughts in audible dread. I knew Death awaited me on the other side, and I could almost picture his sorrowful scorn. But I wasn’t afraid to face him. It was the certainty of my decision that made my stomach twist and churn. For my sake, my friends’ and of course, his own, there was no reality that I had thought to kill him; having the option at all was laughable in its absurdity.

I opened the door to find him standing facing my bed, as he had always done in the past as the boy Pharos.

“Hey,” Ryoji said, “it’s been a long time since we talked like this in your room. Though back then, I had a different form and name.”

He had lived inside of me as Pharos—the incomplete form of Ryoji Mochizuki, harbinger of the Fall, and the Death Arcana. Standing before me now as a charming and youthful man, I actually found it easy to believe he was the catalyst for the end of the world. I supposed Death, if given a form, would have taken on a beautiful one, and perhaps that was the cruelest part of it all.

He sat on the hard mattress of my bed and gestured for me to join him. I sat by his side, and he eventually spoke. “It seems like you all decided to let me live. You’re all going to risk your lives on a battle you can’t win.”

Ryoji’s eyes looked as if he’d been carrying a grief he was never allowed to set down. He always looked like that. No matter how close he was, even having been sealed within me, part of him now was impossibly far away. As I allowed him to finish, he looked at me with a softness, yet it hurt, and sharply so.

“But they’re not the ones here right now—you are. I’ll say this one more time: if you kill me, Tartarus, the Dark Hour, and the memories of your battles will all disappear. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up as a normal high school student,” he continued, each word lingering in the thick air. “You’ll be able to live in peace until the moment of the Fall. But if you let me live, you’ll spend every waking moment until that day dreading your inevitable death.”

His voice, tight with urgency, resounded in my mind. It was as if all Death had ever wanted was for me to have an ordinary life. “Nyx can’t be defeated. It’s pointless to fight her.” he said.

Ryoji paused, noticing he’d been speaking for a while without a reply. He then asked me, prompting me to speak, to lay my sinful pride bare, “...Are you still thinking? Or have you already made up your mind?”

I answered simply. “I won’t kill you.”

Ryoji’s expression shifted slightly with the firm set of his jaw loosening, though it was clear his resolve would not falter so easily. The passion in his eyes was replaced by something far heavier. It was a look of desperation and intense defiance. “I guess I wasn’t able to change your mind.”

“Of course not.” I replied. I expected him to scoff, but he instead stared down at the hardwood floor—it wasn’t an expression of resignation.

“There’s still some time until midnight,” he said, “I didn’t want to have to show you this… But I have no choice.”

Ryoji rose from the bed and walked to the middle of the room where he stood still, and for a breath he almost looked fragile. Then, his body buckled as if something from the inside was tearing its way out—his bones stretching into an unnatural hunch before he levitated above the floor. Black metal coffins with corpse-blue reliefs burst from his back like tumors splitting the skin. I knew it in an instant, that I was staring at Death given form. Beneath the grotesque divinity, his sorrow still clung. What I saw was Death chained, suffocating and very much alive. It was an unfathomably beautiful sight.

I could no longer deny my feelings; I could no longer pass them as a mistake upon seeing what was before me. At that moment, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to pull him close. I wanted Death to cradle me. I was urged to defy the will of the universe itself. I wanted us, against all odds, to be one. To feel him inside of me… emotionally, spiritually, physically. The thought filled me with exhilaration. I prayed to the primordial goddess of night to please, allow my mortal body to merge with Death—to let us become an abomination of nature.

“Do you see? I am not human. I will bring death to this world until I am finally satiated. There is no need to hesitate over killing me.” he said. “Now, consider this very carefully. Is confronting Nyx what everyone wants?”

I was anchored to the bed. It was as if I was frozen in place.

He went on. “Some things in this world cannot be changed. That’s something you can’t comprehend. Memories are not set in stone; old ones can be replaced with new ones, creating a new reality. Don’t you think you should put a stop to everyone’s pain and suffering?”

Pain and suffering? A new reality?

“It’s up to you—only you can make this decision,” his gaze shifted to meet mine, so far beneath him, “Now…this is your last chance. Tell me your answer.”

I could not live without Death. It was like something unseen had sealed my throat shut. A decree handed down by fate itself left me unable to move as his words pressed in around me.

“Please kill me, Makoto. More than anything, I don’t want to see you suffer.” He begged me. “After all… you’re someone very special to me.”

My lips trembled. Then, all at once, a heat flooded my chest. Hearing him beg, my silence was shattered. There was a strength—no, a vulnerability—surging from within, and he finally began to hear my words.

“I won’t do it.”

“Why?” he laughed weakly, transforming back into a human, his energy dwindling with him. “I know you better than anyone, so somehow, I had a feeling that’s what you’d choose. Yet, I can only wonder how you could be so cruel.”

“I’m not being cruel. I’m sparing you.”

“In sparing me, you accomplish nothing,” his tone wasn’t malignant. He was never that way with me. “I will lose this form tonight. You won’t preserve me by showing mercy. I’ll have to watch you suffer until the bitter end.”

“You’re being selfish.”

“I’m doing this for the sake of your happiness,” he unfurrowed his brows, his expression softening like the sky once the sun had met the horizon, “how could that be selfish?”

My face was as straight as ever. “I wouldn’t be happy in a world where I wouldn't remember you. You haven’t given that a single thought. You’ve only considered your own happiness.”

“Makoto…” My name sounded like a plea that escaped his lips, never meant to be heard.

“I didn’t understand what you meant that day… when you asked me if I wanted to be something more than friends. I wanted to ask you what you meant, but you left.”

“Is this the time to be discussing this?”

“Of course it is. This is the only time we’ll have.” I raised my voice. It was usually no louder than a whisper.

He was taken aback, but still wished to hear me. “In that case… Did you want to ask me now?”

“There’s no need. I understand it now.”

“You do?”

“Ryoji,” I had to tell him my answer, “I love you.”

“You…” he was stunned. His eyes began to sparkle. “You’ve come face-to-face with death numerous times. Not only that, but you’ve managed to look Death in the eye. You’ve seen his true form even—grotesque and malevolent. And yet… you can say you love me?”

“…I think you’re beautiful.”

“Ah,” he cried out. “…What is this feeling, Makoto?”

His composure finally fractured. His tears spilled over before he could stop them, tracing helpless paths down his cheeks. He swiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands, seeming irritated with himself, but that only made the tears fall faster. I couldn’t look away—the hitch in his breath, the gleam of his face and the redness of his cheeks—it put me in a trance.

Eventually, his hands fell uselessly to his sides. His fingers curled like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore. “It would take someone like you to try to defy fate, the laws of this world. I see that,” he said.

“If you love me, won’t you grant me my wish?” he asked.

“What is that?”

Ryoji took my hand and placed it on his heart, holding it close like a precious belonging. His grip on my fingers was tight and loving, as he parted his soft lips. “The end will soon dawn. There’s no avoiding it, so please…” the sadness in his eyes had settled, steady and resigned, “let it be by your hand. I don’t want to watch you break, for I love you too.”

“Makoto,” he uttered, “bring us peace.”

“Even if I forgot you, it would not bring me peace. I would wait forever if that’s what it took, for the moment we’re reunited, for the moment I can feel whole again. You’re part of me,” I wrapped my other arm around him, resting my head on the crook of his neck, “Let me remember you, Ryoji. Let me keep the pain as my reminder of you, and my tether to you. So you’ll never leave me.”

A sharp, broken gasp came out of Ryoji before he could stop it as I held him close. His chest rose too fast and too shallow, as if the air had suddenly turned thin and unforgiving. He pressed a hand on my back, like it would steady the ache spreading through him. Each breath came harder than the last. “There’s little time left. I have to tell you how to defeat Nyx.”

“Tell me.” I squeezed him harder, trying to lose myself in his scent—one both familiar and unsettling.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the highest floor of Tartarus,” he spoke through gentle tears, cradling me, “on the Promised Day, the 31st of January, that is where Nyx will arrive.”

I melted into his embrace. “So, I’ll see you again?”

“In a sense, yes, but it won’t be Ryoji Mochizuki that you’ll see.”

“Human or not, if we fail to prevent the Fall… I’m glad the last thing I’ll ever see is you.” My face contorted into a smile while tears befell my cheeks. I felt so warm.

“Makoto…”

“Say my name again, please.”

There it was again: the quick rise of his chest. To think I had such power over the divine force of Death. I felt so guilty. I was undeserving of his grace, let alone his love, but I was going to cherish this moment. “Did you hear what I said? Do you know where you have to be on that day? …Makoto?” His words sounded like a song. My name sounded like a prayer.

“Of course, I heard you. I’ll be there. I’ll come see you again.” I shut my eyes in bliss, in willful ignorance. I would be there to kill him most likely, but couldn’t that wait? Just for a while? Could the heavens wait for love? I hadn’t realized it, but I began to sob into his scarf, like a small child grasping his pillow after a horrible nightmare.

“I hate seeing you cry, Makoto,” he hugged me with both arms, “how can I make this stop when we can’t stay like this? I have to leave. We need to tell the others about the Promised Day.”

I wanted so desperately to interrupt, but hearing his voice was far more important. If it meant all I would ever hear was his voice, I would take a vow of eternal silence. “You can stay with me. I’ll tell them what you told me once you’re gone. Please.”

I looked at the clock behind him—my vision was blurred, but clear enough to make out the hands. It was nearly 11. We had only an hour left.

“Alright… but only because you asked so kindly.”

“You cried first.” I murmured.

“Sorry?”

“You started crying first, but I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to stop you.”

“Look at me now, then.”

I pulled myself off of him, using the sleeves of my school jacket to wipe my tears. He looked unreal. Like an angel. His beauty was fragile, and made holy by sorrow. How fortunate I was, in my mortality, to catch a glimpse of the type of perfection only achieved in desperation, the limitless imperfect.

“Please touch me… Make sure that I exist,” he pleaded, “feel for yourself that I’m actually here.”

I removed his scarf, allowing it to fall onto the cold floor. I leaned in. His breath hit mine, stuttering, scared that somehow this would cause us to disappear. Then, our lips touched, tasting like salt, like warmth, like evil. I closed my eyes and held onto the feeling that we weren’t meant to be, because that was all I would have left of him.

“It brings tears to my eyes… Why is that?”” he drew back, “Please, tell me… It’s painful deep inside…”

It was only for a fleeting moment that our lips parted. The fabric of my shirt was bunched and wrinkled in his fist as he pulled me in close, not letting go. Our lips crashed together messily and urgently, shaking and holding onto each other at the same time. When our tongues met and writhed together, the world, I, was gone. And the fire that consumed both body and soul overcame us.