[ But if it's not her fault, then whose is it? She's the big sister. The club leader. The upperclassman. It has to be her responsibility. It's always been her responsibility, hasn't it? Ever since they lost Megu-nee. It's all been her responsibility. Her fault. The others had never said it to her face, but they never told her otherwise. And on days when their electricity stores didn't stretch as far as expected or they ran out of food a bit sooner than she'd promised, she'd felt their annoyance, their blame. Whose fault could it be but hers?
But this isn't something as simple as miscounting solar cells or the cans of hardtack in a box. It's Ruu. Her sister, the most precious thing she'd had in that decaying world. And she'd still lost her.
And yet: she isn't to blame, he says. Not for Ruu. Not any of it.
She should protest. She should insist that she should've done more. That the blame is hers. But she's so tired of it. Blaming herself, fighting herself. And here Junpei is, telling her the words she's so desperately needed to hear the entire time they were locked in that prison of a school: it's not your fault.
Yuuri lets her head tip forward, rests her forehead against his and lets herself cry. It's not the wounded, gasping sobs from before but something quieter, less desperate and from a much deeper place of pain. She's crying for Ruu. Crying for Megu-nee. For the first time she can remember, Yuuri finally cries for herself and the life taken from her, rotted away to nothing on a dead island in a dead world. ]
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But this isn't something as simple as miscounting solar cells or the cans of hardtack in a box. It's Ruu. Her sister, the most precious thing she'd had in that decaying world. And she'd still lost her.
And yet: she isn't to blame, he says. Not for Ruu. Not any of it.
She should protest. She should insist that she should've done more. That the blame is hers. But she's so tired of it. Blaming herself, fighting herself. And here Junpei is, telling her the words she's so desperately needed to hear the entire time they were locked in that prison of a school: it's not your fault.
Yuuri lets her head tip forward, rests her forehead against his and lets herself cry. It's not the wounded, gasping sobs from before but something quieter, less desperate and from a much deeper place of pain. She's crying for Ruu. Crying for Megu-nee. For the first time she can remember, Yuuri finally cries for herself and the life taken from her, rotted away to nothing on a dead island in a dead world. ]