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inordertobelieve[It was the worst thing. Like an out-of-body-experience, a perfidious nightmare. Teru felt sick and his legs seemed almost weak.
He was at home, but this was not his home at all. This was Kyoto, but not his Kyoto. A perfect copy.
Teru couldn't help but wonder, if this was a cruel joke the Author had decided to play on him specifically.
Today, a year ago, she'd pulled him into her world and had not once let him go home like so many others could. A year of torture in which Mikami had started to lock himself away in his soul even more, even deeper, not to be reached by anybody except God. A God who she took. Again.
Teru knew, it should not hurt. Light should not be at the Manor, he deserved better, he should not have been there in first place. But the second leave hurt even more than the first one, if it was possible. It hurt so much that he felt himself going completely numb from the pain. His own heartbeat was reduced to a faint background noise. Mikami could not feel his body anymore, as he kept walking. A ghost walking through a city of ghosts and he could not even bring himself to mind. His steps were steady, but he had nowhere to go. But as long as he kept on walking, he was still alive and functioning. Functioning was the only thing requiered to fullfil his duties. Teru did not need to be whole, he just needed to function and walk on and on.
And now he was here, in front of Kyouto's prosecution and his leg were only one go from giving in on him. It was the last place he'd reached on his walk through the city, his search for home, safety, himself. His appartement was not there... The house was, but the apartement was different and someone else lived in there, a messy NPC. There was nothing that would feel remotely like the place he had spent four years living at.
Dai Kyouto Sports Gym did not have him as a registered member in this Kyoto and his bank account had also never existed.
He was walking through the city, he lived in, like a ghost. Life in this city existed, went on and on, without him.
In this Kyouto he had never protected people, never made a difference at all. His existence was just meaningless.
But this was definitely the worst. Mikami had known it would be stupid to even go here. He knew office 4's name plate would not say 'Teru Mikami' in this place. Why he even bothered to go check was beyond him. It felt like masochistic self-torture.]
Excuse me, but who would be the prosecutor residing in office 4?
That's Takamura Ren.
Thank you...
[He turned around and walked out of the building, but once he was out he could not bring himself to leave. He turned around and stared up at the familiar building.
A year at the Manor and Teru felt like he would never be allowed to return home.
He sat down on a nearby bench, never taking his eyes of the building he'd spent most of his time in. Thoughts were spinning in his head, but he did not bother to catch and follow them. However, some were not to be avoided, they hammered against his mind, scratching the surface, leaving no room for anything else.
A year. A city without him. A world without God.
Teru's fingers dug into the fabric of his pants and his knuckles turned white. Usually he would have tried to avoid damaging his suit, but right now he wasn't really himself.
But there was nothing more to show his feelings, he could do nothing but hurt inside of his head. In a way he was locked into his own mind, caged without any chance to escape at all. Inside he could be dying again and again, but nobody would be able to tell by the way he looked on the outside.
His sanity was screaming at him, telling him to follow his schedule like he always would, but for once Teru did not feel compelled to listen. There was no schedule to follow here, it was impossible. In this Kyouto, Teru Mikami did not exist. God did not exist. He was thrown back to zero, an entire life had become meaningless. Of course, Teru knew, it was just the Author messing with worlds, but he could not feel it at all.
And he just sat there on the bench, hour after hour until the sun was going down. Just a man in a suit with broken eyes behind clean glasses.]
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