Good Memories (before battle)
Gah...
See? You're already looking much better with those superfluous animal parts removed.
You're... serious about founding your own movement...!
I already answered that.
... But you'll need time. Under the Fauvists' wing, at least until you can fully cultivate your movement, perhaps -
... I don't suppose words have any meaning now.
The Docent raised her giant arm as though to strike us in her final act of defiance...
... then slammed it down upon the door we entered through instead.
All I can do is... buy time... for...
Mid-sentence, the Docent suddenly went limp like a marionette whose strings were cut.
... Dead.
And here I thought at least her last words were going to be succinct.
Ah. Thus we are made foes with yet another Finger, the Ring...
Let's not doom and gloom already, fellas. We beat an officer of the Fingers all on our own for the first time, didn't we? I see this as a pretty definite win.
... All on your own, huh?
C'mon, bro. I was fighting my ass off out here.
Herr Gregor has a point. The outcome of this battle would not have changed by a significant margin even if you had not been here, Kira.
This is more like it. Won't have to freak out over a mere B.B. anymore 'long as we're with Clock.
Ha! Don't start congratulating yourselves for achieving the bare minimum. Those who celebrate over so small an occasion don't deserve to stand beside the Executive Manag -
Well... I guess this isn't impressive at all to people who used to be much stronger, like Outis or Don Quixote.
Prithee, speak not such folly, for the joy of my compatriots is mine own!
Have you any inkling as to why she might have, in her final moments, elected to demolish the door?
Right? It's not like we've a shortage of doors in here.
Are we really debating the logical thought process of someone who was 2 seconds away from dropping dead? C'mon, let's get outta here so we can bring everyone else up to date.
Uh... Didn't I just leave this room?
Ishmael walked out through the door we'd entered through... and appeared from behind us.
Oh shit, where'd the exit go?!
Don't tell me the exit changes every time someone walks through it...!
... No. Can't be that easy.
I am... barred from enjoying the fresh air of the world outside,
no longer free to travel the mountains and cliffs as my feet would carry me... as the other members of the Pinky are.
I wish to no avail that I should be allowed to weave the delineations of Wings and Backstreets.
Hah.
So this is what she meant.
The Backdoor through which we traversed is a passage to the Corridor of the one called the Index Nursefather.
Cross the broken door we might, however, it avails us but a brief jaunt to the Pinky Nursefather's azure Corridor afore it returns us to this room...
... Room's now locked in a loop without a starting point. Won't matter what door we open.
<Is there anything we can do?>
... A rescue team will arrive in time.
As this location adheres to the regular flow of time, unlike the WARP trains... it will be approximately between a week or two from the present before we can return.
<That's pretty long...>
Well, the first problem we're going to have to deal with is food. As far as I'm aware, we should be good to go for at least 3 days - thanks, Rodya - so let's -
Uh, I didn't bring any snacks.
It's not like we were about to walk into one of the L Corp. branches or a dungeon, so...
Yeah... makes sense. Looks like we're going to have to give this room a thorough search, then.
*puff*
No need.
If there's no exit... we cut open our own.
What about the part where it... cuts into your memories, too? Deal with that yet?
No. The sword, it... still cleaves my memories with every slash.
Don't know what memory it'll slice away this time, but it'll be something recent... or one I hold dear.
Oi...! Wait! Don't be so bloody rash about it!
Other than me, no one but Heathcliff still remembers the person he holds in the loving depths of his heart.
Ever since the day of the sepia tempest, memory took on a special, precious meaning to Heathcliff.
Heathcliff suddenly reached out and grabbed Ryōshū's arm.
Though Ryōshū and Heathcliff's circumstances were undoubtedly different from each other, it was clear that Ryōshū's reckless attitude toward sacrificing her own memories triggered a sort of anxiety in Heathcliff.
... What?
Didn't you hear? Them nerds'll be here in a week or two to get us out.
Why don't we just... keep that sword nicely in that scabbard and wait it out?
The radio... doesn't work.
What if we went up to the rooftop and entered one of those doors up there? There are thousands of them.
Out of the question. By doing so, we will be putting ourselves at a greater risk - that of casting ourselves into the endless maze that is the Corridor.
Okay, but we're dead meat if that brick wall of a Maestro wanders right into this room. That wolf lady's last words, man... I'm seeing the flags!
It's a hella risky move, yeah, but... I think Yoshihide and her OP sword is our best bet.
Right, but what if we got lucky and they find us in a day or two -
Quit freaking out, H.C.
It will only be forgotten, not lost.
Well.
Good memories don't tend to last very long.
It's been a fun excursion, Clock.
I look toward the scabbard, expecting it to rattle violently as it did earlier, but it remains still.
The white blade soon reveals itself,
and cuts across the wall where the door used to be.
And naturally,
as the Arayashiki's blade cleaves through the wall, so does it Ryōshū's memories.
Aw, we were really getting somewhere…
The thin strands of Araya's image, which had just begun to coalesce, slowly unraveled and fell apart once again.
Even still, Araya released the blade without hesitation,
But it's ok. We'll try again, so...
conveying no resentment, no hatred, but a few words of consolation...
don't feel too bad.
... as her voice faded into the gentle dark with Ryōshū's memories.