[For most of his life, he's been compared to two members of the animal kingdom: monkeys and dogs. Both of them were pretty obvious connotations, to be fair (a hybrid of the two might lead one to believe he was a do...nkey.... or, an ass), given how much excitability and unrest he had coupled with his intense loyalty. And, really, Ryuji would be pretty pissed off if there was a third mixed into that chimera, but cats come to mind. When cats are ready to die and they know it, they go off alone to do it in peace and try to hide away from the rest of the world. And here he was, up in the observation deck, leaning up against a console and counting down the hours until it was going to be over.
He thought it would come, and then what? Somewhere, somehow, his spirit linked to another body of the same material and experiences up until the last two weeks would live on in his stead, and that guy would have a lot better time of making it through this. It just sucked, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
And the whole process of it happening... he's seen it in movies, read about it in manga, shit- seen it on TV when it happened to Haru's dad, it's always so dramatic, or has such meaning behind it that changes the course of events for someone else. He had told Haru that he remembered some sort of comment that when people pass, there are actually two deaths that occur; one when it physically happens, and once more, when the last person to remember you existed dies. And then there's a chain reaction from there, spiraling outward. Kind of morbid to think that this would be both in one fell swoop. His account ended here.
But there's no real pain or expressive remorse that comes along with it, Ryuji just... sort of drifts off asleep. It'll be impossible for him to remember what his last thoughts are, and maybe it doesn't really matter, because... some time later, his eyes open again, and.
Wait.
What?
He can feel his teeth closing when he tightens his jaw, see his fingers returned to their normal color- and his arm is fine. Gives it a movement to see if it still actually works. Ryuji's pretty often a confused person as he goes through life, but this is strange. The memories are still there- Dave holding his hand via a Ouija board, Ryo taking tissue samples and giving him painkillers, Ren talking with him right here, in this spot. He unzips the front of his kigurumi to check his chest, and there's nothing weird, no sign of the virus. It's a strange, weird feeling to wonder if you've actually died or not, because Ryuji definitely can't tell the difference.
And that's where he is, preoccupied with his own vitality, and not even realizing someone was nearby enough to call out to. Someone he may have really wanted to see.]
no subject
He thought it would come, and then what? Somewhere, somehow, his spirit linked to another body of the same material and experiences up until the last two weeks would live on in his stead, and that guy would have a lot better time of making it through this. It just sucked, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
And the whole process of it happening... he's seen it in movies, read about it in manga, shit- seen it on TV when it happened to Haru's dad, it's always so dramatic, or has such meaning behind it that changes the course of events for someone else. He had told Haru that he remembered some sort of comment that when people pass, there are actually two deaths that occur; one when it physically happens, and once more, when the last person to remember you existed dies. And then there's a chain reaction from there, spiraling outward. Kind of morbid to think that this would be both in one fell swoop. His account ended here.
But there's no real pain or expressive remorse that comes along with it, Ryuji just... sort of drifts off asleep. It'll be impossible for him to remember what his last thoughts are, and maybe it doesn't really matter, because... some time later, his eyes open again, and.
Wait.
What?
He can feel his teeth closing when he tightens his jaw, see his fingers returned to their normal color- and his arm is fine. Gives it a movement to see if it still actually works. Ryuji's pretty often a confused person as he goes through life, but this is strange. The memories are still there- Dave holding his hand via a Ouija board, Ryo taking tissue samples and giving him painkillers, Ren talking with him right here, in this spot. He unzips the front of his kigurumi to check his chest, and there's nothing weird, no sign of the virus. It's a strange, weird feeling to wonder if you've actually died or not, because Ryuji definitely can't tell the difference.
And that's where he is, preoccupied with his own vitality, and not even realizing someone was nearby enough to call out to. Someone he may have really wanted to see.]