The days that followed Makoto's sacrifice were filled with an overwhelming silence, one that weighed heavily on each of his friends. The journey back from the mountain had been quiet, with none of them able to speak the words that were choking them inside. The absence of Makoto's voice, his laughter, and his unyielding optimism was a void that none of them could fill. He was gone, and the world felt emptier without him.
As they returned to the town they had all called home, everything seemed unfamiliar, as if the very air had changed since Makoto had left. The streets, the places they had spent their time together, now felt like memories tainted with sadness. They went their separate ways at first, retreating to their homes to process the loss, but none of them could escape the feeling that something was missing—something essential, something irreplaceable.
Riku found himself standing at the edge of his window, looking out at the streets below, yet seeing nothing. He couldn't stop replaying that moment in his head, when Makoto had jumped into the portal without hesitation, his face set with determination. It had been such a selfless act, but it also felt like a cruel joke. The universe had asked for a sacrifice, and Makoto, without thinking of his own life, had made the ultimate decision.
"Why did you have to do it?" Riku whispered to the empty room, as if Makoto might somehow hear. The tears that had been held back during their trek back to town finally came pouring out. His friend, his brother in everything but blood, was gone. And he was left with nothing but memories.
Daichi had shut himself away in his room, throwing himself into the physicality of training. He tried to lose himself in the effort, but no matter how many times he swung his fists against the punching bag, he couldn't escape the emptiness that lingered in his chest. He hated the helplessness, the guilt that gnawed at him for not doing more to stop Makoto from making that choice. The thought that they could have saved him, that perhaps they could have found another way, haunted him with relentless persistence.
Tenma had immersed himself in his work, distracting himself with anything that kept his mind from thinking about what had happened. He buried himself in paperwork and menial tasks, but even the simplest things felt pointless without Makoto by his side to complain about them or make light of their struggles. And when he could no longer avoid the grief, when the weight of the loss became too much to bear, he found himself outside, walking aimlessly, wishing he could change things.
Ichiro, always the calm one, had retreated into his thoughts. He spent hours sitting at the local park, staring at the sky, as though hoping for some kind of answer to why things had turned out this way. He had never been the emotional one, but the void left by Makoto's absence felt unbearable, and he found himself struggling to reconcile the reality of their loss. Why had Makoto, of all people, sacrificed himself? It didn't seem fair.
The funeral was a small, private affair. There were no grand speeches or elaborate ceremonies, just a gathering of the few who had truly known Makoto and loved him. His friends stood together, their faces pale and tear-streaked, each of them trying to hold back the sorrow that threatened to overtake them.
Riku clutched a framed photograph of all five of them—the one they had taken together during one of their many carefree days. It had been a tradition for the group to take a photo whenever they had a special moment, a memory to hold onto. This photo, the last one they had taken together, felt like a cruel reminder of what they had lost.
"Makoto, you idiot," Riku whispered to the photo, his voice cracking. "You never thought of yourself. You always put us first."
Daichi, standing beside him, silently placed a hand on his shoulder. "He loved us… more than anything. He did what he thought was right."
Tenma and Ichiro stood behind them, both of them silent, lost in their own thoughts as the ceremony continued. The wind blew gently through the trees, and the sky overhead was unusually clear, as if the world itself was grieving the loss of the boy who had brought them all together.
Once the service was over, and the last of the mourners had left, the friends remained at the gravesite, unable to leave. They stood there in silence, each one of them reflecting on what Makoto had meant to them.
It was Riku who spoke first. His voice was raw, but it carried the weight of the love they all felt for Makoto. "We can't let this be the end. We can't just forget about him. We have to live for him."
Tenma nodded. "We owe it to him to be strong. He gave up everything so we could be safe."
Ichiro placed a hand on the back of his neck and sighed. "He believed in us. Even at the end, when he was faced with the hardest choice of all, he believed in us."
Daichi looked up at the sky, his expression hardening. "Makoto believed in us, and that's enough reason for us to believe in ourselves. We're going to get through this—together."
The friends stood in silence for a long time, each of them lost in their thoughts but united by the common thread of love for their fallen friend. They knew there was no easy way to move on from the pain of losing him, but they also knew that Makoto wouldn't want them to fall apart. He had always been the one to pick them up when they were down, to push them to be better, to be more than they were.
And so, in the aftermath of their loss, they made a vow. They would continue living for Makoto. They would honor his memory by sticking together, just as he had wanted them to. The road ahead would be difficult, but they would face it as a team, united by the bond they shared.
They walked away from the gravesite, their hearts heavy but determined. They would carry Makoto with them, in their hearts, in their actions, and in their memories. And one day, they hoped, they would find a way to repay the sacrifice he had made for them.