His fingers were trembling. Standing in the center of the lab, before the Phone Microwave (tentative), Ruka watched his own fingers twitch faintly, as if observing someone else entirely. His index finger rested on the send button. Just that — just that alone — felt so impossibly heavy. *(I couldn't press it. Earlier.)* That moment of hesitation, back at the end of Episode 6. In the end, Ruka had stopped his finger at the very last second. He'd been afraid. He hadn't wanted to disappear. He'd wished for a world where Okabe could smile — and yet, when it came time for him to vanish, his body had refused to move. But now. The clock's hands had already slipped past midnight. Inside the lab, a strange stillness reigned, broken only by the low hum of the Phone Microwave's cooling fan. On the sofa against the wall, Okabe Rintarou lay in a shallow sleep. His high fever still hadn't fully broken. Every so often, his brow furrowed in pain, and from his dry lips, a hoarse whisper escaped: "Mayuri..." Ruka gazed at that sleeping face. "[whispers] ...Okabe-san." The words dissolved into the air and vanished. Beside him, Kurisu stood silent. Arms crossed, lips pressed tight, she simply stared at the Phone Microwave's LCD screen. The skin around her eyes was still faintly red from crying earlier. A secret ritual, just the two of them. Daru didn't know. Mayuri didn't know. No one did. "[gentle] Makise-san." Ruka quietly spoke her name. "[gentle] I'm sorry. About earlier. I... got scared." Kurisu slowly shook her head. "[sad] ...Of course you did. How could you not be scared?" "[whispers] But... I'm all right now." Ruka turned toward Okabe once more. His sleeping face still looked pained. The face of someone who had watched his best friend die, over and over. The face of someone who had shouldered a despair Ruka couldn't even imagine, alone, and was still trying to move forward. *(It's because someone like me is here.)* *(That Okabe-san suffers even more. Maybe.)* That might not be true. Makise-san would surely get angry and say, "That's not true." But in Ruka's heart, it was a certain truth. All he could do was watch Okabe's back as he fought to save Mayuri-san. He wanted to be of help, but he couldn't. In that case. "[crying] Okabe-san." Tears welled up again. "[crying] I loved you. More than anyone. Always." Those were words he murmured only inside his own heart. He didn't voice them aloud. They didn't need to reach Okabe. They *mustn't* reach him. Because if they did, Okabe would surely try to accept him, to carry that weight. *(That... would be a problem.)* Through vision blurred by tears, Ruka tried to smile. He didn't know if he was succeeding. But he didn't want the last face Okabe saw to be one stained with tears. "[gentle] Makise-san. Please." Kurisu caught her breath. Her violet eyes wavered, wide. She seemed about to say something, but the words never came. She just shut her eyes tightly, then nodded — deeply, deeply. Ruka placed his finger on the send button. He'd been too afraid to press it before. But now, it was different. He had burned Okabe's sleeping face into his eyes. The furrow between his brows. His dry lips. His cheeks flushed with fever. All of it — all of it was precious to him. *(I'll disappear.)* *(But if you can smile...)* He put strength into his finger. *Click.* The small sensation of the button being pressed. In that instant — The CRT television connected to the Phone Microwave let out a sharp *crack* of light. For a single moment, the entire room was bleached white as midday. At the same time, the lab floor trembled faintly, as if in an earthquake. No — it was the world itself that was shaking. "—Ruka!" Kurisu cried out. Ruka felt his own outline dissolving. Starting from his fingertips, he became particles of light, melting into the night air of Akihabara. Strangely, there was no pain. He wasn't even afraid. He just felt... profoundly at peace. Just before he vanished, Ruka looked toward Kurisu. Their eyes met. Kurisu had both hands pressed over her mouth, tears streaming down her face, staring at him. "[gentle] ...Thank you." His voice might no longer have stirred the air. But. Kurisu saw it clearly — the way his lips, in that final moment, curved into a soft, gentle smile. —And then, the world was rewritten. In the empty lab, only the hum of the Phone Microwave's fan echoed hollowly for a time. --- Bright. Okabe Rintarou pried his heavy eyelids open. Morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, setting the dusty air of the lab aglitter. The familiar bustle of Chuo-dori reached him from a distance. His body felt strangely light. "...The fever's gone." He sat up from the sofa and pressed a hand to his forehead. The high fever that had plagued him for three days and three nights had vanished as if it had never been. The aches in his joints, the dull pain that had squeezed his skull — all of it, completely gone. *(I feel... refreshed?)* And yet. Right in the center of his chest, there was a strange sensation — as if a hole had been hollowed out. His body was perfectly healthy. But his heart felt empty. As if he had lost something terribly important. When he tried to remember, a fog rolled through his mind, and he couldn't see anything at all. "...Hmph. To think that Hououin Kyouma would be brought low by a mere fever." He muttered it in his usual style. But even though it was his own voice, it sounded terribly distant. His usual chuunibyou flair felt half-hearted today, the words quickly scattering into mist. He sluggishly looked around the room. On the whiteboard, Daru's scribbles. On the counter, a half-finished can of Dr Pepper. On the shelves against the wall, a mountain of electronic components of unclear purpose. The Future Gadget Lab, as cluttered as ever. Nothing had changed. And yet. His gaze stopped, suddenly, on the pipe desk in the center of the room. An empty chair. No one sitting there. *(Was someone... there?)* For an instant, something flickered at the back of his mind. Long hair. A gentle smile. Clear eyes gazing at him. But it vanished in a flash and never coalesced into form again. "...Must be my imagination." He shook his head once, then, to change his mood, opened the lab door. He stepped out into the hallway. The old wooden floor creaked underfoot. --- The same morning. A single set of footsteps climbed the stairs of Suimei-so. The lab door opened, and Makise Kurisu entered. She saw Okabe slumped on the sofa and let out a small, relieved breath. "[gentle] ...You're awake. How's your fever?" "[excited] As you can see, Kurisu! Did you think a mere cold virus could defeat this genius?!" Okabe folded his arms and struck a pose of triumphant laughter. Kurisu let out a sigh. Their usual back-and-forth. "[sarcastic] Huh. That's rich, coming from someone who was bedridden for three days." "[serious] That's that, and this is this." They continued their idle chatter. Progress on the experiments. Hacking into SERN. How Mayuri had bought another weird cosplay outfit. A normal morning at the lab. But deep in her heart, Kurisu felt a prickling, nagging sense of wrongness. Her chest was restless. An empty feeling, as if she had lost something precious. *(What... is this feeling?)* She looked at Okabe's face. He was laughing. His fever was down, and he'd regained his usual composure — the leader of the lab. Nothing was out of place. "[serious] Kurisu. Is something wrong?" Okabe must have been carrying the same sense of wrongness. He looked at Kurisu with a serious expression, not his usual posing face. "[serious] ...No. Nothing. It's just..." Kurisu searched for words. *(It's just... something is missing.)* She started to say it, then stopped. She couldn't even explain what it was herself. And things she couldn't explain fell outside the bounds of logic — her creed. To push the feeling to the back of her mind, she headed toward the workbench. She needed to start preparing for today's experiments. And then, casually, she noticed a single memo slip tucked into the corner of the workbench. She picked it up. It was a hastily scribbled note. A string of numbers. A date. What looked like a destination phone number. And a single line of text: *MSG: Don't get pregnant.* The handwriting wasn't theirs. Not Daru's messy scrawl, nor Okabe's idiosyncratic script. It was soft, careful — and yet, there was strength in the strokes. "..." Her heart gave a heavy thud. *(Whose handwriting...?)* For some reason, she felt she mustn't show this memo to Okabe. She didn't know why. But the restlessness in her chest warned her, strongly. She folded the memo slip and slipped it into the pocket of her lab coat. "[gentle] ...Kurisu? What did you find?" "[sad] ...Nothing. Just trash." She answered without turning around. --- Around noon. Okabe was wandering the streets of Akihabara, taking a walk. If he didn't keep his body moving, he felt he'd end up brooding over the hole in his chest. Chuo-dori was bustling with the holiday crowd. Maids handed out flyers. Anime songs blared at high volume. The usual Akihabara. And yet, it all seemed somehow faded — perhaps because of his own heart. Suddenly, his feet carried him, naturally, toward a back alley. A quiet corner of a residential area. There, he saw a torii gate. *(Yanabayashi Shrine... huh.)* He hadn't particularly intended to pay his respects. And yet, his feet stepped into the shrine grounds without hesitation. The vermilion of the torii gate had faded before he knew it. There was no one in the shrine precincts. Only the wind blew, quietly. He walked slowly through the grounds and stopped beneath a small plum tree. The earth at its base was slightly raised. Something was half-buried there. He crouched down and picked it up. An old *omamori* pouch. One of those small pouches often sold at shrines, the kind that might hold *chitose-ame* candy. It was stained with dirt and faded. Almost without thinking, he opened the mouth of the pouch. Inside was a single small slip of paper, folded up. He unfolded it. *Okabe Rintarou.* That was all it said. The handwriting was soft, careful — unfamiliar. Who had written his name here? Okabe felt his chest stir restlessly. Someone had come here for him. Had held this *omamori* pouch. He was certain of it — and yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall their face. He desperately searched the drawers of his memory. But there was nothing there. Just the wind blowing hollowly through the hole in his chest. *(Who... is it?)* He clutched the *omamori* pouch tightly. The shrine grounds were quiet. The approach hadn't been swept clean. A single ginkgo leaf fluttered down and landed at his feet. How long did he stand there? --- "[excited] Now then, Kurisu! Let us begin today's experiments! El Psy Kongroo!" The moment he returned to the lab, Okabe declared it in his usual style. "[sarcastic] You really are sick. Your fever's gone, but your head seems to be the same as ever." Kurisu sighed in exasperation — but the corners of her mouth softened, just a little. The usual scene. Everyday life began to move again. In his pocket, Okabe clutched the *omamori* pouch. He hadn't been able to throw it away. In her pocket, Kurisu confirmed the memo slip with her fingertips. She hadn't been able to show it to anyone — not even Okabe. Both of them felt something was missing. Neither could fill the hole that had been hollowed out. And yet, neither spoke of what it was. They couldn't. The grounds of Yanabayashi Shrine remained empty, as ever. On the approach that someone had always kept swept clean, another ginkgo leaf fell, silently.