[ With his eyes closed, the impact of the temple is certainly greater.
Nanako says they're there, and the feeling of teleporting has faded, so Souji opens his eyes, figuring that's signal enough.
What slight, soft smile was on his face completely drops when he takes in the gate, his heart leaping straight into his throat, as if it can escape his chest this way. His eyes are round, and he tries to keep his fingers from tightening or slackening on Nanako's where they're still holding hands. Everything about this is - an aching sort of familiarity to him, something horrifying and straight from the worst month of his life. Nanako might not understand its familiarity, but he does.
He remembers carrying her body out of the dungeon. He remembers how weak she'd been, her strained and tired voice. He remembers how hard it was for her to speak, let alone breathe.
Her heart stopped, in the hospital.
Souji had almost let them push Namatame in the television, so wracked with grief. But it wouldn't have brought her back, and it wouldn't have been the right thing to do, not when the real cause of all of Inaba's strife was still out there. It was like that choice alone was rewarded, too - when the doctors had told them that she was okay, that they resuscitated her, he'd nearly fallen to his knees.
That memory is the one that has him gently tightening his hold on Nanako's tiny hand, warm and alive in his. It gives him the strength to swallow the knot in his throat. ]
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Nanako says they're there, and the feeling of teleporting has faded, so Souji opens his eyes, figuring that's signal enough.
What slight, soft smile was on his face completely drops when he takes in the gate, his heart leaping straight into his throat, as if it can escape his chest this way. His eyes are round, and he tries to keep his fingers from tightening or slackening on Nanako's where they're still holding hands. Everything about this is - an aching sort of familiarity to him, something horrifying and straight from the worst month of his life. Nanako might not understand its familiarity, but he does.
He remembers carrying her body out of the dungeon. He remembers how weak she'd been, her strained and tired voice. He remembers how hard it was for her to speak, let alone breathe.
Her heart stopped, in the hospital.
Souji had almost let them push Namatame in the television, so wracked with grief. But it wouldn't have brought her back, and it wouldn't have been the right thing to do, not when the real cause of all of Inaba's strife was still out there. It was like that choice alone was rewarded, too - when the doctors had told them that she was okay, that they resuscitated her, he'd nearly fallen to his knees.
That memory is the one that has him gently tightening his hold on Nanako's tiny hand, warm and alive in his. It gives him the strength to swallow the knot in his throat. ]
So what's this?