Archive of Our Own

He ran.

Taking Patrasche, Natsuki Subaru fled, abandoning his oni companion as he raced away, determined to face this ordeal alone. He could not stand to see Rem die—not again, not by that cruel monster’s hand. Never again!

"I need to—" He clutched the reins of the black-scaled ground dragon. "I need to figure this out. I know I can! Even if I must die over and over, I need to—"

But Subaru knew.

The nasty-eyed boy knew he could not. He knew he was powerless to save them. He knew he was worthless. He knew he would never be able—with his weak and docile frame. The raven-haired youth could not wield a sword nor conjure flame. He could not summon the strength of a mountain like Reinhard, nor could he lead an army like Crusch. He was but a useless boy whose sole ace was dying and returning.

He understood his tears, and they fell freely—frustration, grief, anger. The emotions swelled in him like a storm, slowing both him and Patrasche until they came to a halt. Subaru lifted his head, his hazel eyes blurred by tears, gazing upon Flugel's Tree in the distance.

"Why—" he sniffled, his voice trembling, "WHY ME?!" Desperation twisted his features as rage overtook him. "WHY ME, WHO IS SO WORTHLESS AND USELESS?!"

Falling to his knees, Subaru struck the ground with his fists. "Why… why must I be so weak? Why must I bear this cursed Return by Death?! Why, why, why, why…?" The nasty-eyed boy collapsed, his tears flowing freely as he buried his gaze in the dirt. He was utterly lost. "I just wanted to be happy—to escape. I—I can't do this—"

He was still, his arms supporting him, his back bent over, his quiet sobs and barely audible mumbles the only sounds that filled the night air.

"I just don't want this anymore—I…"

"Why dost thou weep?"

"Who…?"

"Why dost thou break down?"

That voice—deep, archaic, and unfamiliar—resounded in the air.

"Who said that…?" The raven-haired youth, confused, lifted his head slightly, searching for the source.

"Why dost thou, who hath toiled greatly, who is granted myriad opportunities, and whose potential is boundless, weep upon the earth?" The voice was stern, as if displeased with Subaru. Yet there was something else—curiosity, as though it sought to provoke the broken boy.

"I—You—" Subaru raised his head fully, eyes darting around in search of the speaker. But no one was there.

A laugh bubbled from his lips—hysterical, dry, broken. "Hahaha… so this is what it feels like to go insane. Ah, just wonderful! Great!"

"Make no mistake, thou art not mad. Thy venerable self is verily real."

The voice held an unmistakable scorn.

Subaru chuckled bitterly. "Oh, is that so? Then where is this 'venerable self' of thine?"

"In thine Od."

The response was given as though it were the most obvious truth in the world.

"Oh? But I thought my Od was useless?" Subaru laughed again—a hollow, painful sound. "Useless, useless, useless…" He choked on a sob.

"Hmph." The scornful voice carried a note of disappointment. "Thou shouldst not belittle thyself as meager, for thou hast accomplished much in but a fleeting span."

"So much—heh." Subaru shifted onto his side, pressing his face against the cold earth. "The only thing I have done is manage to screw everything up—over and over again."

"Yet hath thou not returned to mend that which was broken, time and again? Dost thou not sacrifice thyself for those whom thou holdeth dear?"

The voice now bore a tone of admiration.

"All I did was defeat some Wolgarms. And even then, I was useless in the end."

"Thou art mistaken!" The archaic voice grew sharp with indignation. "Thou set forth the path of destiny! Thou chose diligence where others faltered! Were it not for thee, two candidates would have perished, an entire village reduced to naught! And if thou dost not act now, all shall be lost once more!"

"What can I do?!" Subaru snapped, his rage bursting forth. "Die?!"

"Each time I go back, I only end up ruining everything—over and over again!" The raven-haired youth gasped before continuing, his breath ragged with emotion. "I can't defeat Petelgeuse! I can't be the hero Rem needs, nor the knight Emilia desires! I am useless—in this world and in the last—and I HATE MYSELF for it! What can I do?! Tell me, O great and mighty voice from mine Od! What must I do to be the hero everyone needs?!"

"Thou canst begin by loving thyself."

Those words…

They stole the breath from his lungs.

Love himself? What madness was this voice spouting? How was he supposed to love himself? Why would he deserve to? He had done nothing worthy of praise. He was no mighty warrior, no chosen hero destined to fell a demon king. He was just Subaru. Useless, small, Subaru.

"I… I can't love myself…" His hazel eyes brimmed with fresh sorrow, his heart aching with the weight of his despair.

"And why not? Thou art brimming with potential! Thou art capable of reshaping this world for the better! Hath thou not gone back, over and over, driven by thy love for others? Deserving thou art of praise! Take Pride in thine achievements, and move forward with unwavering confidence!"

"I can't—I don’t deserve praise…" Now lying flat against the ground, Subaru gazed up at the sky. His tears had dried; there were none left to shed.

"But thou dost deserve it. And thou shouldst be glad to know that others think the same. The oni cherisheth thee dearly, and though flawed, the half-elf holdeth naught but hope for thee. Even the spirit hath come to respect thee."

"They… they can’t—it doesn’t—"

"Thou seeth not the extent of thine own deeds, dost thou?"

"I—I… No, I don’t…" The Japanese teenager fell silent. He hesitated, then considered the voice’s words for the first time.

"Then thou must rise in Pride, knowing thine worth and what thou art capable of. Thou must love thyself, for thou art not worthless!"

A pause.

"Didst thou not dream of being a hero? Then be one! If thou can but see how great thou truly art, then thou mayest yet claim that dream! So stand, move forward, and set thy will upon solving thine troubles!"

"Y-You’re right…" Subaru whispered.

Who was this? Who had come to him in this moment of despair? Who had given him this lecture, this motivation?

"Who… Who are you?"

If the voice had a face, it would surely have smiled.

"Before thou learneth mine name, tell me this—dost thou now accept thyself?"

"…"

"I… suppose I do? Now, at least?" Subaru answered, uncertain.

A sigh. "Fear not. In time, we shall work upon that."

Then—light. A cluster of luminous orbs formed at Subaru’s side, swirling like minor spirits before coalescing into a single shape.

Subaru quickly rose, standing himself upright as the orbs condensed into a figure—a man.

Regal in attire, his garments bespoke nobility, woven of rich fabric. Dark violet silk cascaded over his slender frame, his shoulder-length hair the same deep hue. His sharp eyes, piercing and unyielding, rested upon Subaru, his complexion ghostly pale.

With an air of grandeur, the man placed his right hand upon his heart and inclined his head slightly. His gaze met Subaru’s, resolute and commanding.

"Former Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult, representing Pride—Stride Vollachia."