[If this was really the only thing that stood between him living and dying—regardless of how much time it actually bought him when coupled with everything he knows and feels—then her brother doesn't need that haunting his mind.
In fact—]
None of them do.
[At all. Not Aki and not Mitsuru. There are a lot of things that are better left unsaid, even if the truth is something that they're probably owed. Honesty and kindness don't always go hand-in-hand, and there are often times you are forced to choose between the two. They don't need to know he's in a hospital bed, veins plugged with wires, probably with some machine doing the breathing for him. The outcome might even be the same, in the end. And if not, he still sees a gravestone with his name on it somewhere along the horizon.]
I just died that night, all right?
[They'd be happy knowing he was alive, he's sure, even if it isn't currently much of an existence, but he doesn't need them thinking that they had maybe done something wrong. He lost the watch. The fault, ultimately, is his. And the dying part isn't something he regrets—or that his other self would; it had been what Amada had wanted. All he regrets is hurting other people in the process. If he could stop that, he would.]
no subject
[If this was really the only thing that stood between him living and dying—regardless of how much time it actually bought him when coupled with everything he knows and feels—then her brother doesn't need that haunting his mind.
In fact—]
None of them do.
[At all. Not Aki and not Mitsuru. There are a lot of things that are better left unsaid, even if the truth is something that they're probably owed. Honesty and kindness don't always go hand-in-hand, and there are often times you are forced to choose between the two. They don't need to know he's in a hospital bed, veins plugged with wires, probably with some machine doing the breathing for him. The outcome might even be the same, in the end. And if not, he still sees a gravestone with his name on it somewhere along the horizon.]
I just died that night, all right?
[They'd be happy knowing he was alive, he's sure, even if it isn't currently much of an existence, but he doesn't need them thinking that they had maybe done something wrong. He lost the watch. The fault, ultimately, is his. And the dying part isn't something he regrets—or that his other self would; it had been what Amada had wanted. All he regrets is hurting other people in the process. If he could stop that, he would.]