Disclaimer: I don't own Den-O, I just like playing in the sandbox with the slightly battered toys it gives us.

AN: Based around episodes 39-40, with spoilers for them. Lots of speculation and abstractness in here, but hopefully someone finds it enjoyable! Constructive criticism always appreciated.

What May Be

I died.

I was stupid, just a boy, unconsciously convinced that the monster couldn't hurt me. Couldn't really exist. Was a dream, a nightmare at worst. Something I'd wake up from if things got too bad. Until my skin burnt, hot and fast; the concussion blast of the car exploding broke my ribs, snapped something in my neck, my head. Agony. Disbelief. Death.

I lived.

I was a boy, and it was one of the best trips of my life. I watched the stars, close and sharp through sensei's equipment; flickering and beautiful through my own. They all knew me--my name, my likes, my failings. My existence.

I watch myself die, the two possibilities, the two pasts equally clear in my mind. I know what it means, and I can still do nothing, either to quiet the dissonance in my head or stop myself from fading.

He watches me, horrified, not believing what's happening. I should hate him. Want to hate him, for making it necessary for me to do this--to fight, to die, to trade on my own existence to be what he is effortlessly.

But there is too much sorrow in his eyes already, and there's something more important to do before the dissonance tears me apart.

"Nogami. Don't worry about me. Take care of Deneb."

I don't get to hear what he says or see what he does. The dissonance peaks, agony with no pain, and I am nowhere.

I am nothing.

Nobody.

An existence that doesn't exist. A person no one knows well enough to miss. A grain of sand in an ocean of memories, easily misplaced and swept away.

No.

I am more than that.

I will be/was/want to be more.

A form, little more than a flash of color, but it is enough to cling to. Enough to define something as myself again, to start rebuilding what I am.

Armor. A defense, a protection, a hope for a future.

A sword. Heavy and perfect, made to fit my hand.

A crossbow. My weapon, not his. Not like any of theirs, though only a vague sense of who they are comes with these memories.

Battle. Over and over, a stream of violence and half-understood thoughts and motivations. Someone fighting with me, in me, trying to protect me. Someone important to me.

Someone not human. Imajin.

(Friend.)

I shudder, a deep breath filling my lungs as another wave of memories flood my mind. A name, a place, a train that is home and weapon and so much more. Almost enough. Almost enough to put myself back together again, slip back into the time-stream I've made indifferent to my existence.

Almost, but not quite. Still too many holes, too much missing from my memory. I exist now, but existence is a simple thing. Any Imajin knows that, knows the fragility of self, the ease with which it can be molded and shaped by their host. That is what I have made myself, what I could surrender myself to, but I must be more.

I must have a past. I must have a future.

A purpose.

A woman, beautiful and warm, her laugh lighting my life.

But that is not mine. Not my purpose.

A woman, beautiful and warm and broken, and that distance in her eyes is his doing, even if she doesn't know it. Even if she agreed to it. But she sees me. In my silence, my own distance, she sees me, cares for me, and I can't help but love her.

A boy, older than me but so timid in his voice and stance and bearing. Until I push him, and he fights me when I expect him to fold, and I want to hate him and blame him and damn the old man for loving him but I can't. I can't.

Airi.

Nogami.

Me.

It's enough. Enough to give me shape, to make me more than Zeronos's empty puppet, and Time softly accepts me back. Not gently, but she's never been gentle with me.

"Yuuto! Yuuto, what's wrong?"

Opening my eyes is harder than it should be. Seeing Deneb's face centimeters from my own doesn't improve my mood. Neither does the belated realization that I'm shaking, shivering violently despite the warm temperature. "Where..."

"Where are you injured?" Deneb runs a hand through my hair, and I glower at him, the knowledge that he's looking for blood slipping from his mind to mine. "Nogami and Den-Liner already returned to their time, but don't worry, I'll--"

I don't hear the rest of what Deneb says, my thoughts too jumbled by his mention of Nogami. Of course he's returned to his time. I remember it, just like I remember Den-O fighting, and winning, and the harsh, self-conscious relief of not having to use a card.

Just like I remember living, and dying, and disappearing.

Dizziness and pain flood my mind and I quickly move my thoughts to another topic. I should know better by now than to do things like that.

Deneb's worry gives me something else to latch onto, as does the fact that he's trying to "help" me out of my jacket. I stagger up to my feet, a half-coordinated shove and a glare moving him far enough away that I don't have to worry about him tearing my clothes by accident.

"I'm fine. Really." My equilibrium's already returning, the shaking subsiding to a barely noticeable tremble, and I force myself to smile at Deneb before heading to Zero-liner. "Come on. Given that Kai's responsible for this, Nogami will probably need our help."

My vision wavers again as I try to remember if Kai really is responsible for this, treading far too close to the tangled knot of paradox inside me. Deneb reaches for my arm again, but I step away. I'm not weak enough to need his protection.

"Yuuto..."

"I'm fine." I'll explain to him later, maybe, when the wound isn't quite so raw and fresh. "Let's go."

He doesn't protest again, willingly piloting Zero-liner while I sit down for a few minutes. I need to be ready for whatever's next--ready to fight, rather than being a hindrance to Nogami, and that means trusting myself. Trusting my mind and body not to betray me. Thankfully the worst effects of the paradox are already fading, the contradictions blurring around the edges, and if I'm careful not to directly approach the memories it shouldn't cause me any trouble.

It would be easier if I were Nogami. If I remembered only what really happened, not what might have or could have or may have, the final result dictated by what others believe happened wrapped around a few fixed points in time.

If I were Nogami...

But I'm not. I'm not a Singularity Point. I can't be Den-O.

I can only be me, Sakurai Yuuto, buying the world a chance--a slim chance--by erasing myself from it.

And hoping somehow, somewhen, that the reward will be worth the price.