The heavy clouds blanketed the sky, mirroring the weight pressing on your chest as you stood at the familiar train station. Snow drifted lazily through the chilled air, coating the ground in a thin layer of white, yet it did nothing to bring peace to the hollow ache inside you.

Yoko stood a short distance away, her coat wrapped tightly around her as though it would protect her from more than just the cold. Her brown hair fluttered with the winter breeze, and despite her usual cool demeanor, you could see the storm brewing in her eyes.

This wasn’t the Yoko who used to smirk at you in battle or taunt you with her sharp words. No, this was her—exposed, vulnerable, and burdened by the reality she couldn’t outrun.

“You… really chose it,” Yoko’s voice finally broke the silence, brittle but steady. She didn’t look at you; her gaze remained fixed on the tracks. “You chose his reality over… ours.”

Her words stung, but there was no anger in them, for once—just raw, unfiltered hurt.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you explain? How could you tell her that you couldn’t live with the guilt of her sacrifice? That seeing her—alive, whole—was worth it, even if it meant staring back at an artificial Yoko Akechi?

“I thought…” she continued, her voice trembling slightly now, carrying a deep tone, “I thought you knew me better than that.” She finally turned to face you, eyebrows furrowing. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be erased from your life, just so you could live some empty dream?”