It's too much. It's too much to think about. She sits at the side of the street to catch her breath. Pulls out her gaming console. Fiddles with it aimlessly with her hands.
She thinks she's on... level six of Gala-omega or something. Pretty far along.
So she'd had an other. She was probably based on that other, before she was created. And Hinata and Komaeda... they probably knew it by now.
They hadn't told her. They ... had probably known she wouldn't react well when she found out.
Something had happened, obviously. She hadn't been around to be part of the Game. She'd been able to pull them all together, and without them... they wouldn't have been able to function. So they'd created another her to pull them all together -- and of course, once she was killed, it had almost driven them apart.
She was a clone, effectively. The second version of herself. So what did that mean? Who was she, anyway?
She'd started to get some confidence in herself, in who she was. In what her existence meant outside of the programming. But something had become very obvious from this memory: She wasn't the Ultimate Gamer. She was just a copy of one.
There was something sort of refreshing about that. And also definitely something sort of scary.
Breathe in, breathe out. Level cleared. What else did it mean?
Hinata and Komaeda weren't okay. They were missing. They were very obviously missing -- the class just... didn't have them. Komaeda had promised that without her, they might hurt but they'd be okay. But that obviously wasn't the case here.
She had to know where they were. But she didn't want to talk to them. She didn't know how.
Maybe part of her was hurting from the fact that they hadn't told her. Maybe part of her was still scared of what that meant. She almost didn't want to confront them about it. Let it live in a corner of her brain, and gnaw away at her. Who knew? Maybe it didn't matter. After all, she was only a symbol, right? Just a program...
No. She was a person, too. She deserved to ask.
... Probably.
Without realizing, she had started crying again, and was burying her face in her knees, the game console discarded.
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timeasmymeasure
8 August 2016
Date: 2016-08-21 10:28 pm (UTC)She races on, but as she does she slows. The images keep playing in her head.
Teruteru. Impostor-kun. Peko. Koizumi. Tsumiki. Mioda. Saionji. Tanaka. Nidai.
Kuzuryuu. Sonia. Owari. Souda.
Her.
It's too much. It's too much to think about. She sits at the side of the street to catch her breath. Pulls out her gaming console. Fiddles with it aimlessly with her hands.
She thinks she's on... level six of Gala-omega or something. Pretty far along.
So she'd had an other. She was probably based on that other, before she was created. And Hinata and Komaeda... they probably knew it by now.
They hadn't told her. They ... had probably known she wouldn't react well when she found out.
Something had happened, obviously. She hadn't been around to be part of the Game. She'd been able to pull them all together, and without them... they wouldn't have been able to function. So they'd created another her to pull them all together -- and of course, once she was killed, it had almost driven them apart.
She was a clone, effectively. The second version of herself. So what did that mean? Who was she, anyway?
She'd started to get some confidence in herself, in who she was. In what her existence meant outside of the programming. But something had become very obvious from this memory: She wasn't the Ultimate Gamer. She was just a copy of one.
There was something sort of refreshing about that. And also definitely something sort of scary.
Breathe in, breathe out. Level cleared. What else did it mean?
Hinata and Komaeda weren't okay. They were missing. They were very obviously missing -- the class just... didn't have them. Komaeda had promised that without her, they might hurt but they'd be okay. But that obviously wasn't the case here.
She had to know where they were. But she didn't want to talk to them. She didn't know how.
Maybe part of her was hurting from the fact that they hadn't told her. Maybe part of her was still scared of what that meant. She almost didn't want to confront them about it. Let it live in a corner of her brain, and gnaw away at her. Who knew? Maybe it didn't matter. After all, she was only a symbol, right? Just a program...
No. She was a person, too. She deserved to ask.
... Probably.
Without realizing, she had started crying again, and was burying her face in her knees, the game console discarded.